Enchanting the Fey- The Complete Series

by Rebecca Bosevski

  “So what do you teach Traflier?” I asked, desperate to fill the awkward silences.

  “Horticulture.”

  “You are teaching him about plants?”

  “Pretty much. I can grow anything.”

  “And what is he teaching you in return?”

  “Tanzieth have trouble casting magics, but he says I am different, stronger, so he is helping me learn how to cast.”

  “Cast, like spells?”

  “I guess you could call them that.”

  “Sounds like you lot are more like witches than fairies, with the brews and casts.”

  He laughed again and my stomach flipped.

  What the fuck!

  “We are Fey, there is no such thing as witches.”

  “Says you. I’m thinking if fairies are real, and prophecies and monsters, then witches and dragons might as well be too.” I took a bite from a sweet bun he had placed on my plate and looked at the sea of people dancing.

  “Well, dragons—”

  My eyes shot back to him. “No fucking way. Seriously, there are dragons?”

  “There used to be. They no longer exist, or are in hiding, not a single one has been sighted in centuries.”

  A cough came from my left and I looked up to see Moyeth glaring again at Jax.

  “We should go.” Moyeth said holding out his hand.

  “Yes, sure, the seers. Okay, let’s go.” I said, ignoring his hand and pushing my chair out to stand. “See you later, Jax,” I said, turning to follow Moyeth back into the labyrinth of cobblestone corridors.

  Moyeth didn’t talk as he led me further away from the lights, and sounds of the feast. The sky threw muted light down the crevices created by the tall stone buildings flanking every walkway, and the smooth stones under my feet began to cool, creating a tingle in the soles of my feet.

  “You should have worn shoes,” he said, glancing for a moment back at me and my feet. “I might have to carry you over the next part.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said before I saw it.

  The path ahead was no longer lined with lovely, smooth stones. Instead, it was covered with spikey thistle that had fallen from the vines, growing up the walls before us.

  “Okay,” I said stopping just before the first thistle covered stone.

  Moyeth rolled his eyes, somehow managing to avoid looking childish.

  Man that is annoying.

  He placed his arm around my waist and scooped me up, his other arm supporting my legs from under my knees. I put my hands around his neck, but resisted the urge to rest my head on his shoulder. If I had been wearing white, it would have looked like the perfect bridal carry. Instead, I looked straight ahead. The vines grew thicker the deeper we walked into the darkening the corridor. The thistles Moyeth stepped on cracked under his feet, releasing a pungent smell of vinegar.

  “Not too much further,” he said, nodding towards to corridor ahead. “The light up there, can you see it?”

  I could. It was a small flicker that grew brighter with every step he took. “Is that where they live?”

  “Yes, the siblings all stay together. They are quite old and are only visited upon approval or, as in your case, their own request.”

  “Why do they want to see me?”

  “I don’t know, but their vision was clear that you must come.”

  “Wait, what vision?”

  He stopped a few feet from a wooden door, lit only by a single oil torch that was fastened to the wall beside it.

  “They sent a request to a receiving Fey; she informed me of your invitation.”

  “What’s a receiving Fey?” I asked, feeling like there were way too many things I still had to learn.

  “All Fey have strengths in different areas, but some of us have stronger magics inside, magics like the receiving Fey. They are uniquely able to receive visions directly from the seers. They are also responsible for writing the scrolls.” He put me down on the stoop of the doorway. “We are already late. This is where I leave you. I will return when they inform us you are done.”

  “Wait, you aren’t coming in?” I hated to admit it, but I was a little scared.

  “You were summoned, not I. Only you can go in. Do not be afraid, but remember, be careful with your questions.”

  I nodded then knocked lightly on the door. It creaked open slightly and I looked back at Moyeth for a moment before walking through.

  The warmth of the floor was what hit me first. Then, a low beam that caught me smack in the middle of my forehead. “Fucking hell,” I cried, rubbing my head and hunching forwards so as to not hit the following one as well.

  “Hello,” I called to the empty hallway. “Is anyone here?”

  “We are here” said one voice—old, female.

  “For now,” said another—male, also old. His voice was strained, almost bored.

  “Do not scare her away,” came a third—female and sweet-sounding, maybe younger than the first.

  I followed their voices to the end of the hall, where it opened to a large sitting room. Two older ladies sat on an orange sofa opposite two older men in armchairs. One of the men had his nose buried in a book, the other three were looking right at me.

  “Hi, I’m—”

  “We know who you are,” the grey-haired woman on the left said. “Please take a seat, we have been waiting for you.”

  “Always waiting,” the man with his head in a book mumbled in the same bored tone.

  “Sorry if I’m late,” I said, taking a seat in the only available chair.

  “You were right on time, dear. Matter no mind to Francis there,” said the sweet-voiced woman.

  They all had varying colors of grey hair, the two woman the lightest, the man yet to speak the darkest—his still looked to hold streaks of his natural brown hair amongst the greys.

  Holding my stare, he smirked. “Yes, she will do. I now see what you saw, Rosaline. She does have great power. Corinne, do you see it?” He never took his eyes off me.

  I looked to the women.

  The sweet-voiced one—Corinne—nodded. “Yes, I do.

  “Francis, will you get your nose out of that book and properly greet our guest? After all, she is the one we have been waiting for.” The other male said.

  Francis peeked up over the edge of his book in my direction. “I do not see it, Halo,” he grumbled and returned to his book.

  “Wait, I thought you all had to have the same vision for it to be made prophesy.” Moyeth had said that hadn’t he? I questioned my memory.

  Corinne giggled. “They can think what they like.”

  “So the prophecy about me, it said I would defeat this evil thing. Is that real?”

  “You will save them, yes. You will save us all,” Rosaline said, reaching forward to the table between us all and pouring a silvery liquid into five tiny teacups.

  “But I can’t do anything,” I protested. “I don’t have any magic.” I took the glass offered to me by Rosaline.

  Francis mumbled again, under his breath. “What is that annoying noise?”

  “What noise?” the other three said all at once.

  Rosaline waved her hand towards him, “there is no noise, Francis. You are lost in your own mind again, go back to your book.”

  “We are all getting on, it appears, a little faster than expected. But we will be thankful when we can move on and no longer be tied to this place, this time” said Halo.

  “Move on?” I asked before catching on. “Oh, you mean when you die? Why wish for that?”

  “We have been tied to this place far too long.” Rosaline replied.

  “Tied how?”

  “Do not ask too much,” she continued—“only what you must know. We do not have much longer; the light will be rising soon.”

  “How do I learn everything in time to save everyone? How can I possibly win?” I asked, taking a sip of the silvery liquid. It ran smoothly down my throat, tasting of black plums.

  Corinne answered first. “You w
ill have to awaken your gifts.”

  “Then protect them,” said Halo next, downing his glass in a single slurp.

  Rosaline frowned at him. “Your power will be immense, that you need to know. Have faith that the rest will come.”

  I wasn’t really getting a lot out of this visit. “So I’ll win?” I tried again, downing the last of the drink and placing the teacup back on the table with a clamor.

  Francis looked up from his book. “Win, lose. It will end, that is all that matters.”

  “Lose? I could lose?” I wanted to stand up, but the room was spinning.

  “Calm yourself, my dear.” Rosaline placed a hand on my knee. “You will succeed in your task, I have seen that you will. Ignore Francis, he is all but gone from this place; his mind cannot see the visions clearly.”

  “But you can?”

  “I am the last that can without being close to the subject. This is why I requested to meet with you. I wanted the others to see what I had, that we soon would be free. That you will be the power that saves the Fey.”

  “Does anyone else know?”

  “Now that is not something that you need to worry yourself with,” said Rosaline. “Do you have any other questions before we retire?”

  “Yes, yes, ask us about the cute one, please do?” Corinne giggled from beside her.

  “The boy is important, she should know,” Francis grumbled, not bothering to look up from the book this time.

  “What boy, what cute one?” I asked excitedly.

  Rosaline smiled, crinkling the corners of her eyes. “He will help you to see your power, he will be with you till the end. This is all I will tell you, so please do not ask me more.”

  “What? No way, come on, you can tell me more than that. Surely?”

  “It is time,” Halo said, standing from his seat and walking out a door to the left. “Thank you, Desmoree. Until we meet again.”

  Rosaline stood. “Yes, it is time. We must retire. Thank you for visiting with us. Please take these as a gift from us.” She lifted a small box from beneath the coffee table. “I believe they are your size.”

  I opened the box on my lap to reveal a beautiful pair of silver ballet flats. “Wow, thanks!” I said slipping them onto my bare feet.

  “Now it really is time, please this way,” Rosaline said, gesturing towards the way I had come. “Forgive me for not taking you myself. We cannot yet leave this place, but soon. Soon we, too, will be free.”

  “Thank you,” I said to the all, walking back down the corridor, not really any better off than I was when I had entered.

  I opened the door, glancing back to the room where Corrine still stood in the doorway, watching me leave. I waved to her and she smiled and wriggled her fingers at me in a wave. I stepped through the door onto the thistles, my new pretty shoes protecting my feet, and made my way back up the alleyways until I could once again hear the thumping of the music.

  “What the hell,” I said aloud. “One dance won’t kill me.”

  I headed towards the music, hopeful to find those pretty green shoes, and maybe, just maybe I would meet the boy they’d been so secretive about.

  I danced for a while with the Fey, disappointed to not see Moyeth or those pretty shoes again. I decided to head back to my room. Yawning as I opened the door, the sky still glistened with the light of a late afternoon.

  “I have to find a way to keep track of this time,” I said to myself, walking through the small hallway to the room Traflier had provided. Too exhausted to do anything else, I threw myself under the covers and quickly fell asleep.

  Upon waking, the room looked much the same except for a small tray of some type of fruit bread and sweet tea that sat on my bedside. I sat up, took a sip, wished for coffee, and grabbed for one of the books. I turned through the pages, skimming the lines as I took a bite of the yummy bread. It smelled like apricots and berries, and was still warm and soft as if it was baked fresh that morning. The sweet tea was okay, not great, definitely not coffee, but I drank it down between bites anyway. The shoes the Seers had given me lay where they had fallen from my feet when I fell into bed.

  I miss my shoes.

  I turned another page, contemplating whether or not I should go and find someone who could take me through the portal like Moyeth and Jax had so I could retrieve my shoes, when my mother’s image—drawn in perfect detail—stared back at me from the page on my lap.

  I froze and peered deep into her eyes, letting my mind drift back. She had been so cold the morning I’d found her asleep in her bed, but not really asleep, never again would she be ever really asleep. I leaned back into the pillows, closed my eyes and let my memories of her take over my mind. It had been so long, and I missed her so much.

  I awoke what could have been several hours later. Though the light was dim, it appeared to be rising, becoming golden and bright as the moments passed. The light filtering in through the stained glass windows twirled across the ceiling, rising and falling where the rays met the ornate ceiling medallion. I sat up, the book still in my lap. My gaze darted to a small mark on the bottom of the page. Someone had doodled in the book.

  “That’s pretty rude,” I said aloud. I had always been disgusted with how some people treated books. They would dog ear pages and leave coffee stains on the covers. In high school, I was the only one who had returned my English books looking as if they were brand new.

  I studied the doodle in the corner; it was one of the symbols in my dream. The eye of light—my mother’s symbol, Traflier had said.

  I turned the page, hoping to read more about who my mother was before she left Sayeesies, but was greeted only by a torn page, savagely ripped from the book. Its mangled edge showed nothing but a few spots and lines.

  “No way!” I yelped as I leapt from the bed in disbelief. On the backside of the drawing of my mother, there was my song—the one my mother had sung to me.

  Dad a 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 Parabellum,

  Keeps the silver light from fleeting,

  Oh, how I love you,

  My Desmoree,

  My love

  Their Hope,

  The purest Fairy.

  OH MY GOD. My song, the one I had grown up listening to, was in The Book of L. The sound of my mother’s beautiful voice drifted into my mind.

  Parabellum was the bloody word!

  I couldn’t believe I had forgotten. I’d always questioned what Parabellum was, but my Ma said that the words had come to her along with the tune. She never offered any other explanation, and for some reason I never actually needed one.

  I decided to find Traflier and ask him about the song, and the missing page. If he wrote The Book of L, he should have been able to tell me everything I wanted to know.

  I turned the next page: a list, starting in no apparent order, of names and dates.

  A register.

  Tanzieth births listed along with in many cases, dates of death.

  A chill vibrated through me as I scanned every entry for my last name, Shale. The names listed were ones I did not know and, fearing my father’s name was one of them, I closed the book. Moyeth and Jax had alluded to my father being alive, but I hadn’t had a chance to ask them more about him.

  The Book of E & L had referred to a ruler or leader in its texts, but it did not specify names so I wasn’t inclined to assume it was my father.

  I went to get changed to go and see Traflier and frowned at my choices. A few black and a few white shirts hung beside three pairs of black pants. The ninth Nazieth were clearly more concerned with the Dazerarthro than my lack of clothing choices.

  I’d continued to faint a lot since my arrival, and being unable to shop while unconscious, Grace had brought me a few belongings to hold me over until I could go out and pick up something new for
myself. I settled on the white shirt, not wanting to look ninja-like in all black.

  Flipping open one of the Stalisies books to where it contained various maps, I scribbled the path I would need to follow to find Traflier onto a scrap of paper. I threw on the simple flat shoes Grace had left me, grabbed The Book of L, and stood in front of the closed door for a moment, my hand resting on the handle.

  I still didn’t fully believe I wasn’t dreaming. Always at the back of my mind, I figured I would wake up in my apartment in Enmore.

  Just turn the handle, Des.

  I took a deep breath and opened the door.

  The golden light of Sayeesies sky warmed me to my core, my skin humming at the caress of its glistening rays.

  “Here we go,” I said as I took a step into the world—no, the life—my mother had left behind.

  The walk to find Traflier shouldn’t have taken more than a few minutes, but I found myself having to stop every five or so steps to take in the magnificence of Sayeesies.

  The cobblestone corridor I eagerly strolled through appeared to be centuries old. Its cobble walls were cracked and stained by time. I ran my fingers along their warm surface, and the distinctive clay scent filled my nose. As with everything else I had experienced in Sayeesies, the stones radiated an energy entirely its own.

  I stopped about halfway through the corridor, catching sight of a small mark on one of the floor stones. I crouched, an easy task in basic flats.

  I miss my shoes.

  The marks on the stones were not unlike the ones from my dream. Many more stones bore marks, etched into the worn surfaces long ago but still visible if you took the time to look. Grime had settled in the cracks of the old stones, and symbols and blended them together. Most were simple curves and straight lines, joining at every point, a continual pattern. One in particular took my fancy—a bent spoon encircled by wavy, twisting lines.

  “None of those are mine.” Moyeth startled me and I fell from my bent position, ungracefully onto my ass. The Book of L fell from my hand, but I managed to hold onto the map I had drawn. “That one there, though, is close,” he said, ignoring my embarrassment altogether. He pointed to the bent spoon as he knelt beside me, running his fingers along its pattern with fondness.