They moved too quickly through the crowd for me to get a better look, but if one person owned shoes other than flats then there was hope for these flat-feet fairies too.
Moyeth tugged at my arm. “Des, move along. They are expecting us.”
I spotted the shoes again and had to turn to follow their path, but then the gateway we had come through loomed before me. Nothing like the branches we had passed through, this side was a solid wall of smooth black marble. An archway, made of the same stones as the buildings surrounding it, reached as tall as a house.
I stretched out to touch it and Jax caught my wrist.
“Not a good idea,” he said as I pulled my arm free.
“Why, will it swallow me whole or something?” I chided, coming to touch it again.
Moyeth grabbed my arm this time. “Something like that,” he said as he turned me around. “We really must be going now.”
Jax took my other arm and they both began to lead me away.
“Do you mind? I’m not a fucking dog for you two to drag through the streets.” I yanked my arms back from their grip.
“Giovanya?” A woman called across the crowd.
My mother’s name. It still hurt to hear it. It hurt to think of her. What would she think of me being here? Did she ever intend on telling me the truth? Would she have brought me here herself? Too many questions I would never have answered. I shook my head, trying to dispel the thoughts.
“Giovanya?” the woman called again, and every person within earshot glanced around until his or her eyes fixed on me.
What the hell?
They began to whisper to each other. “It’s her,” one said. “She’s here,” said another. Most were inaudible, but it was clear they were all whispering about me. I had become the main attraction of a sideshow, complete with two brute bodyguards.
The woman stopped abruptly about a meter away.
“You are not Giovanya,” she said, peeking out from underneath her large red hat.
My head became hazy. Something pulled on my mind. There was a feeling as if my brain was swelling, suffocating my thoughts and then, giving way to darkness.
I dreamed of beasts and blood once again, but this time, I didn’t wake screaming. Instead, I came out if it slowly, the hums of muffled voices interrupting the sound of blood splattering the blades of grass.
I wish I knew what it meant. Mum would have known.
Growing up, I’d had to endure people bombarding my mother with stupid, self-centered questions about their ridiculous dreams, and yet there I lay, wishing I could do the same.
To some, three months might have seemed like forever. But not for me. I could still see her as clear as if we had spoken minutes ago. Even now, I could picture Ma’s naturally tanned skin, glowing as she danced through our always-open house the way she did every evening, twirling me around the kitchen, singing our song.
Da, da, da, de, da, da, da, do,
feel the earth’s love,
free the sparrow,
take no chances,
all is precious,
Desmoree is all that there is.
All you need is…
Something? For the life of me, I couldn’t remember the missing word. I played the rest out in my head, seeing us dance as we spun and hopped around the table.
Keeps the silver light from fleeting,
oh how I love you, my Desmoree,
my love, their hope, the purest Fairy.
“Bloody hell, Mum, you could have told me you were being for real.” Though perhaps I wouldn’t have believed you if you had.
Frustrated, I listened closer to the voices muttering nearby. I opened my eyes but swiftly closed them again. The bright light stung and I raised my hands to rub the stars away.
“Again. And slowly this time,” I whispered to myself as I flickered them open once again. The ceiling was bright and I turned my head towards the voices. The rainbows of light swam again, but this time around Jax, Moyeth, and another figure—a tanned, slim woman holding a big red hat. They spoke in hushed tones, huddled together at the end of a narrow corridor. The girl in the red hat looked familiar but I couldn’t place her.
Who are you? She sauntered back and forth on her toes precisely as my mother used to. I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, but when I stood to go question her, I stumbled and had to steady myself on the door jam.
I opened my mouth to call out to them, but no noise escaped before I sensed the same pull on my mind and everything started to fade once again. The last thing I remember—warmth. Arms wrapped around me.
When I opened my eyes again, I peered into the greenest whirlpools I had ever seen.
“Jax, did you come at me with that knife again?” I was resting in Jax’s arms, on the floor in the doorway.
Moyeth and the woman stood over me, frowning. The woman clasped her hands so tightly in front of her that all color seemed to have drained from her fingertips.
“I’m fine, let me up,” I said as I pushed Jax away and tried to stand. My knees buckled and Jax and Moyeth both grabbed my arms to steady me.
“You should be laying down,” Moyeth scolded, still holding one of my arms firmly in his large warm hands.
“Do you normally faint a lot?” Jax asked.
I leaned on Moyeth for support and moved towards the bed. “Faint? No, never.” I find your concern ironic, I wanted to say, given the fact you tried to kill me not twenty-four hours ago.
“What happened?” I asked them especially slowly, considering my questions often bewildered them and resulted in completely unrelated answers.
“We don’t know, dear,” the woman began, but stopped when I turned to face her. “My, you look like your mother.”
“You do too, kind of,” I muttered with a glance up and down her petite figure.
A laugh entirely too big for her small frame bellowed from the depths of her belly. If I hadn’t been fixed on her when she did it, I would of never have guessed the deep roar had come from her. “Well, my dear…” She smiled, crinkling her eyes up at the corners. “You are my great granddaughter.”
My delight met with skepticism as I estimated her age—she could not have been more than forty.
She must have noticed the cogs turning in my head. “I am three hundred and seventy-one human years old, but a young fifty-three in Stalisies years.” She grinned. “My name is Grace,” she said, lowering her head in a sort of old-fashioned bow.
“Did I hit my head when I fell? I don’t feel well. Maybe I should sit.”
Moyeth removed Jax’s hand from my other arm and helped me onto the bed.
Grace sat on the side of the bed, her brow creased. “Something is happening to you, I don’t know what yet, but Traflier is on his way. He should know more.”
“Who is Traflier?” I groaned, my body struggling to awaken. I could barely hold onto one conscious thought. It reminded me of the morning after a night in the city; I didn’t go often, and when I did it was usually so that I could take photos at sleazy clubs so they could promote on social media how awesomely sleazy they were. A last-resort gig for when rent was due—usually after I had spent an exuberant amount of money on a new pair of Manolos.
My shoes. How long have I been here? I have to get them. Wait, is she still talking?
“… three hundred and two in Stalisies years.”
“Wait, how is that even possible?” I asked, trying to focus on her words as the room began to spin once again.
“Traflier is the eldest of our kind. He is the leader and protector of the Fey. Without him, our kind would have gone extinct a long time ago—and he just so happens to be your great, great grandfather.”
“Well, I guess he could know something to help me, then,” I said, thankful that my mind had stopped spinning.
“I surely hope so, my dear girl,” a deep voice said. An older man stepped through the doorframe. Light appeared all around him; the colors he wore vibrated around his skin. It swelled, overflowing
down his body. The rays snaking out at his feet, reaching out across the floor before they sank back into him to circle yet again.
“My name is Traflier,” he said, “and I am so glad to have you home.” Traflier reminded me of Tolken’s description of Gandalf the grey: distinguished, strong, and powerful. He wore a dark blue cloak, its edges hemmed in blood red, and he carried himself like royalty.
“My mum never mentioned you. But she didn’t mention any of this, either, so I guess that makes sense. Look, do you know what is wrong with me? Why I keep fainting?”
Grace stood and Traflier took her place on the side of the bed. “You are perfectly well, my dear. Your body simply needs to adjust. You have not been within the walls of Sayeesies since you were in your mother’s womb.”
He turned to Jax “What do we owe this pleasure? I don’t believe we had a meeting this week.” He was less aggressive toward Jax than Moyeth had been—though Jax crashing through the ceiling and burying him under a pile of debris probably had something to do with Moyeth’s distaste.
“I’m at her will.” Jax motioned towards me whilst bowing his head.
“Don’t say that,” I spat.
Jax stepped back against the wall.
“I see what you mean, Moyeth,” Traflier said, turning his head to the side slightly. “She does have some fire in her, so much like her mother. She will be a great power.”
“What power?” I asked as the room began to spin again. “I don’t feel good.”
I blinked slowly, as the familiar tug on my mind pulled everything into darkness.
When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a big white room. I gazed up at the high tower ceiling that glistened in the muted light. The smell of flowers drifted around my body, surrounding me in an invisible, scented cocoon of lavender, lily, and rose. I started to float.
“This is way better than the beast blood nightmare,” I said. The invisible mist lifted me higher and I peeked for a moment, over my shoulder, at the floor below. I couldn’t see it clearly, only making out the basic outline of what might have been a large white bed. Looking ahead, the ceiling came into view and a large round skylight crafted from intricate, stained-glass squares shimmered, it’s elaborate pattern almost coming to life as the light moved behind it.
I floated higher towards it. My heart pounded faster, and my breath quickened. The symbol became clearer the closer I got, and what had once looked like one symbol, now seemed to be two symbols intertwined perfectly to appear as one.
The ceiling inched closer. I could see the small bubbles of air caught in each cut of glass. I pushed out against the cold rippled surface.
“The Dazerarthro is coming, you must be prepared,” whispered a voice in the air.
The glass splintered and cracked against my hands, but before it shattered completely, I awoke.
Grace leaned forward, stroking my forehead with a damp cloth. “Desmoree, how do you feel?”
“I miss my mum,” I said under my breath.
“Me too. We have both lost a great deal,” she said, dabbing my forehead again.
“I had the strangest dream.”
“You had us worried,” she said. “It is so good to see you awake. We tried everything we could think of to wake you, but nothing worked.”
I felt something in my hand and raised it to see what it was. “What the hell am I doing holding the Noxuer?” I screamed, sat up, and threw it at the wall of stone opposite me.
Grace fell backwards off her chair.
“Desmoree,” Moyeth scolded.
“Des,” I corrected, keeping my eyes locked on the Noxuer sticking out of the stone. “I go by Des. My whole name is so odd, and I prefer not to have to spell it to everyone I meet.”
Grace laughed. “Your mother did always prefer names she could shorten,” she said as she repositioned herself on the chair beside me. “Your mother was quite a woman, you know.”
I thought I had known, but the truth was, I clearly didn’t know her at all. Apparently my mother could fly, aged extraordinarily slowly, and had god knows what other secrets hidden behind the life she had created for us.
I turned my head, not wanting to meet Grace’s gaze. I took in the room, but couldn’t see past the masses of flowers that covered every surface. The flowers’ glistening silver petals shone; looking at the brilliant light from each petal was like gazing directly into the sun. I raised my hand to my eyes to shield me from their glow and I caught sight of Moyeth intently regarding the Noxuer imbedded in the stone.
“Sorry,” I said as I rubbed at my palm. A tingle remained where it had rested against my skin. “I guess it was a bit of a shock to wake up holding something capable of bringing death to everything it touches. Sue me.”
“That was what I was beginning to tell you, my dear.” Grace touched her hand to my forehead as if she were checking my temperature. “We could not wake you. Moyeth was beside himself with worry, but Jax collected as many of the dandielillies he could find—unusual aren’t they?”
I nodded in agreement.
“They have the ability to help heal their kind—the Tanzieth. He was about to go and search for more when he remembered he had the knife in his bag; he believed you were the best keeper for it because it did not affect you. He put it by your side and, in your sleep, you reached out and grabbed it.”
“My darling Desmoree, you are awake?” Traflier ambled into the room. “Jax went a little overboard with the dandielillies, I see.” He glanced around at the silver-bloom-filled room. His eyes fixed on the Noxuer in the wall. He walked over to it and, without the slightest hesitation, pulled it from the stone.
“Was it the knife that woke me up?” I asked, propping myself up a little.
“It is more likely that the Dandielillies did their job,” said Traflier, “and helped you to recover your energy. The years spent away from here took a toll on your body, but it appears your strength has returned.”
My mind wandered back to my dream from earlier. The fragrance lifting me up, it had been the flowers, the dandielillies. Star-shaped petals and a scent of rose, mixed with a touch of lily and lavender. I closed my eyes, trying to picture the symbols on the ceiling of the tower. I felt light and somehow free, as if the scent surrounding me had somehow given me strength.
“Des!” Jax sounded delighted as he entered the room, both arms cradling a huge bunch of forty or more dandielillies. He dropped them to the floor and stared at me in excitement.
“What?” I asked impatiently. I never could overcome the fear I felt standing at the front of my year six class, expected to explain photosynthesis. Flashbacks sped my heartbeat and I took a deliberate, slow breath to calm myself.
“You are awake,” said Jax, “but how?”
“I think it was the dream. It could have been the flowers, or maybe both.” I stared at the hole in the stone where Traflier had removed The Noxuer and remembered the whispering voice from my dream.
“Why is the Dazerarthro coming, what does it want?” I asked, scanning the room for a reply. But Moyeth, Jax, and Grace left the room without a word.
I considered Traflier, who had positioned himself on the seat beside the bed. He took my hand it was warm and soft, just like my mother’s had been. His, too, had many creases formed over years of hard work.
“The Dazerarthro is a force of energy capable of controlling any being with a soul. The Chaser Scrolls foretell the Dazerarthro will emerge, stronger than before, wild and destructive.”
“Wait, so it has attacked Sayeesies before?”
“Yes, and I have managed to defeat it each time. But this time something is different, this time I might lose more than my own kin; we could lose the existence of the Fey as we know it.”
“Your kin?” I asked. “I had more family?”
“We did,” he said, a shadow falling over his face. “After the Dazerarthro and other events, it is only you, Grace and myself that remain.”
I wanted to ask more about the family I would never
know but could see it pained him to talk about it. “Why is this time different?”
He squeezed my hand a little and gave me a curt nod. “The translation in the scroll is a little sketchy, but from what we have deciphered, the Dazerarthro will take possession of a physical form. The mortal ties from that being will bind to the Dazerarthro, giving it access to a power that it will use to eliminate its enemy. It is how Jax came upon you that night.”
“What do you mean?”
“Jax had an informant who tracked an abnormal energy to you, though he did not know, at first, who it was he had found. The seers sent Moyeth to collect you, but Jax found you first. They have been searching for your mother for years with no luck, up until three months ago when they began to receive flashes.”
“When Mum died,” I said, a tear escaping the corner of my eye.
“I’m so sorry, my dear. Your mother must have guarded your location, but when she died, the shield died with her. Now, my dear, did you say something about a dream? I would love to discuss it with you. Dreams can be visions of what is to come, moments past. Sometimes they are of no particular importance,” he said, flailing his hands around, “but many of our kind are blessed with seeing to some degree.” He placed a hand on mine and leaned closer. “You could tell me about it if you wish.”
I replayed the entire dream, the tower, floating and being afraid of crashing through the top, but when I mentioned the symbols, he stood and reached around me to the side table. He pulled out a piece of paper and an unusual pencil—part of a branch sharpened to a point, stiff sap forming the ink.
I took it and began to draw. It flowed smoothly, the sap bonding with the paper perfectly. I drew the first of the symbols easily, Traflier staring eagerly at the paper as I drew.
“The eye of light,” he marveled. “May I see?” Traflier reached for the paper, but I grasped it to my chest.
Enchanting the Fey- The Complete Series Page 3