She marched on, and only slowed her pace to gather edible berries, mushrooms, or water once in a while. Her thoughts drifted, tedium claimed them, and she began to reminisce about the hours she’d spent with Fayeth. A small part of her knew it was a stupid thing to do, but she chose not to listen to it. She had to do something to amuse herself during the long journey.
And thinking about her bath with Fayeth in the elven spring restored some of her energy. The queen had such an exquisite figure. Leyla wished to have Fayeth by her side, if only so they could have entertained each other when they grew bored of marching. She would have loved to ask Fayeth questions about her past.
Nevertheless, they would not meet again. She’d accepted that when Furore had brought her to the road. If she did meet Fayeth, the spirit would have failed her. Fayeth didn’t want Leyla to travel to Xenthien.
Or, to be fair, she didn’t want her to break the laws of her home. Leyla supposed Fayeth wasn’t wrong, but if she had to become a criminal to be free, she would become a criminal.
Although, she had to admit to herself that she would have preferred a less cowardly method to achieve her goals. It seemed callous to fake her own death, especially when Fayeth carried enough souls on her narrow shoulders. Poor elf.
She wondered if Fayeth had cried over her, like she’d cried over her own people, and came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the road. Leyla recalled Fayeth crying in her embrace and how she had promised to be her champion, fight dragons for her, yet now she fled with her tail between her legs.
She’d told herself that she didn’t want to give Fayeth the wrong idea about the two of them, and it had become one reason to raise her walls, but she’d already said so much more in their shared dreams. She’d held the elf close and consoled her. They’d promised each other the world with their kisses.
Her grandfather may have instilled her with hopes of freedom, but he’d abandoned it himself to become a decent man. Leyla doubted he looked down on her with pride today. The old guy might have been proud of her for bedding an elf, a queen no less, but he would have scolded her for abandoning Fayeth in the manner she had.
Her behaviour had transformed her into a coward. Furore had stolen her spine. She couldn’t deny it to herself, yet she hated to accept it as an aspect of her personality. If Leyla had ever truly hoped to become Fayeth’s equal, and return to the elf’s side in the future, she squandered that dream beyond redemption with each step she took.
She didn’t deserve someone as good as Fayeth. She may as well retrace her steps and return to the elf this moment. Perhaps if she apologized and groveled, Fayeth would show her mercy. Perhaps Leyla didn’t care if she made it further east than the Freow Woods. Perhaps every relationship meant giving up a little freedom in exchange for love.
If she arrived in Xenthien, Leyla would be on her own, and there was a chance no one would hire her as a mercenary. She’d lost both her armour and sword. She didn’t have more than a few gold coins in her pocket. At this point, she was a lost cause.
Leyla kept walking, not because she wanted to get farther away from Fayeth, but because she swore the spirit had tricked her into this. And she wanted to beat Furore. How could she have been dumb enough to surrender everything except the clothes on her back?
She fantasized about making Fayeth laugh again, and tried to recall the exact sound of her laughter. She longed to see Fayeth as happy as she’d seemed in the beginning. No one had behaved like Fayeth around her before. Leyla had thought herself plain, or unattractive, until she’d met the striking elf.
“I’m a fool…”
No response, no one was anywhere near, yet she almost shouted Fayeth’s name at the top of her lungs. Perhaps that would have brought the incredible queen to her side.
Woodland Fairytale
“Mother, this is Nimue. Nimue, this is Fayeth.” Syvis introduced them to each other by the road the humans had claimed for themselves. Tsarra and Atrin lay on opposite sides.
“The pleasure is mine.” Nimue placed their right hand on the chest of their leather tunic, bowed to her as someone might bow to a queen, and offered a polite smile.
Despite meeting this elf in the flesh, Fayeth still couldn’t tell whether they were male or female. Nimue might be described as handsome, though their blend of feminine and masculine features neutralized each other and made it impossible to guess their gender. Their voice didn’t clarify a thing either.
“Are you a man or what?” Fayeth raised the bottle of pixie cider in her hand to drink.
Syvis slapped her palm over her face and screamed into her hand. “Let’s pretend this meeting never happened,” she said, pulled Nimue away by their arm, and knocked Fayeth’s bottle out of her grasp, so it fell and cracked against a rock. “I don’t know where she keeps finding these bottles. Never told her where I hid them.”
“Syvis.” Nimue removed her hand from their arm and looked into Syvis’ eyes with a tenderness Fayeth could appreciate in a potential match for her daughter. “Your mother hasn’t insulted me. I can handle myself. We haven’t gotten a chance to get to know each other yet, so give us time.”
“Fine.” Syvis crossed and uncrossed her arms before she settled for tugging on her hair. “Can’t wait to watch this disaster unfold.”
Nimue turned to Fayeth and bowed again. “I’d hate to disrespect the queen of peace, when I do have noble intentions with your daughter. I’m a man. I hope to sire children one day.”
Fayeth had been called dozens of names after her failures as queen, ranging from the insulting to the degrading, but she’d never been called the queen of peace by anyone. “You plan to have children with my daughter?”
“I do.” Nimue nodded. “With your approval, of course.”
“We don’t need her approval!” Syvis stomped her foot on the road and tugged on her hair until Nimue put a stop to the self-destructive behaviour.
Syvis was correct. They didn’t need to ask for her approval to have children. Besides, Fayeth didn’t want to imagine what would happen if she refused to give it.
“Why did you call me the queen of peace?” Fayeth asked and steered the topic away from children.
“Yes, why? Do explain.” Syvis frowned.
“If it hadn’t been for Fayeth’s wise choices in a difficult era, elves may have perished on the sword of humanity,” Nimue said. “We may not be what we once were, but we live on.”
Fayeth didn’t agree with him. His stance struck her as too pragmatic. “Are you sucking up to me to gain my approval?”
“Absolutely.” Nimue chuckled. “But I think it’s true regardless. Another golden age for elves will come. We were here long before humanity, and we’ll be here long after. Thanks, in no small part, to you.”
“Is this why you were eager to meet my mother? So you could flirt with her!” Syvis growled. “I’m standing right here, Nimue. I hear the tone you’re using.”
“I think you’re mistaken, but you have my approval.” Fayeth retrieved the leather flask on her belt which she’d filled with pixie cider instead of water when Syvis hadn’t been around, and pushed it into Nimue’s hand. “How about you prove me wrong? Surely, this dream of yours starts with new elves.”
Nimue blushed, bowed to her in a rush, and clutched the flask like a precious heirloom. “As you say, Fayeth.”
“Meeting you was my pleasure.” Fayeth stepped away from the couple. “We’ll have to meet again, when I’m feeling like myself. For now, I ask that you excuse me. I want to have a look at this blockade your village erected.”
“Are you sure you’ll be fine by yourself?” Nimue asked. “The humans remain in the area.”
“Don’t underestimate my mother.” Syvis grabbed his arm and dragged him into the forest on the south side of the road. “She can tame every human she meets.”
Fayeth didn’t hear Nimue’s response, and though she tried to feel happy for her daughter, her thoughts soon refocused on everyone she’d lost. She didn’t need some you
ng whelp telling her she’d made the right choices. She could respect Nimue for his honesty, but she had a suspicion his relationship with her daughter wouldn’t last unless she fell to her knees and begged Furore to handle Syvis’ love life too. She hadn’t forgotten what the succubus had told her in their kitchen. She’d just not understood the full extent of her words earlier.
Furore was the new goddess of love. The old wouldn’t resurface.
Regardless, Fayeth found it difficult to care about love at all. She envied Syvis’ happiness. Why did the gods want her miserable? Why couldn’t the dead have told her to grant Leyla passage?
Her body yearned for the powerful arms which had held her, and had done so every hour of the last three days since she’d found Leyla drowned. Fayeth would never rest in the girl’s embrace again, yet her brain wouldn’t cease its torture of her skin. She’d been happy for the first time in forever, and she wouldn’t forget it soon.
If she could have rewound time, she would have packed her belongings, told Leyla she loved her, and gone wherever the girl wanted to travel. Fayeth could have left the elves in the past and explored the world with her new lover. They could have visited faraway lands neither of them had heard about before.
She’d committed a mistake when she’d denied Leyla’s request. The dead shouldn’t get to make demands of the living. They should move on into the afterlife, rest, and find the peace the gods denied the living.
Fleeting
“Do you have regrets?” Furore, dressed in full steel armour and helmet, appeared next to her. She looked exactly the same as she’d done when they’d first met. It couldn’t have been a little more than a week since that fateful meeting, yet it felt longer.
“Could you give me my armour?” Leyla sighed. “My sword?”
“Oof, you only regret losing the worthless possessions the king of Algora lent you?” Furore crossed her arms behind her head and started skipping backward. Apparently, the armour the spirit wore didn’t encumber her. “I thought you missed a particular someone. Someone, you want to touch and kiss.”
“I do miss Fayeth,” Leyla said it out loud, and that only made her miss the elf more.
“Mhm.” Furore nodded. “I could smell love leaking out of a broken heart. Such a bittersweet scent, and it’s up to me to decide what to do with it.” The spirit stopped in her tracks and sniffed the air. “Huh, that is the smell of love, isn’t it? I was wondering why some mortals smelled different, lately. It’s not a lack of sex.”
Leyla walked past the spirit, glanced over her shoulder, and considered asking Furore to bring her in front of Fayeth. The queen should get a chance to judge her for her crimes, even if they only amounted to cowardice and stupidity.
“Wait!” Furore snapped back to reality and pointed at Leyla. “I have two questions for you that need answers this instant.”
“Feel free to…” Leyla stiffened as the spirit reappeared right behind her and placed her gloved hands on her shoulders. Furore hadn’t made any effort to hide that she could move several meters without being seen.
“Don’t focus on me.” Furore squeezed her shoulders. “Focus on the road.”
Leyla did as she was told, but noticed nothing out of the usual. She’d stared at the road for days on end, and despite how she knew she walked toward Xenthien, the road always looked the same. The trees grew tall on both sides. No animals or birds ever seemed to exist until she stepped into the underbrush.
“Would you risk your life for Fayeth?” Furore gripped Leyla’s chin to keep her head straight when she bored of staring at the road.
The change in the environment was subtle. She thought they moved forward, slowly, yet her legs did not walk. It looked more like the trees started moving in the opposite direction, like she and the spirit slid along the ground.
“If Fayeth needed me to shield her from danger, I would, but she’s capable enough on her own.”
“Irrelevant, in her current state,” Furore said, shivers ran up Leyla’s back. “Would you forsake your country for a shot at altering the future to our liking?”
“I suppose.” Leyla shrugged. She’d already planned to desert in Xenthien. Without her grandfather to persuade her otherwise, she had no loyalty to Algora.
The trees moved faster and faster, whisked by, until it became impossible to deny that she somehow moved forward without walking. On the horizon, she could see people move in front of some kind of wall of vines which blocked the rest of the road. If she didn’t slow down, she would die when she collided with that blockade.
“I knew Fate sided with me when I picked you two at random.” Furore chuckled. “That bitch loves drama.”
They came to an abrupt stop before any of the people by the blockade spotted them. Leyla recognized the woman stumbling ahead of the others as Fayeth, and unfortunately, the ten soldiers sneaking up on her were not elves. They were human.
Had they drugged Fayeth? Why did she walk like a drunk?
“I’m unarmed, outnumbered.”
Furore slid a hand down her side, took her by the hand, and made her grip the hilt of some kind of weapon. Leyla glanced down and saw that it was a jagged dagger crafted from brittle glass. She doubted she could defend anyone with such a weak-looking weapon without breaking it.
“Careful with Grinja. She kills gods.” Furore released her. “Now, let the fun begin. Let us mark this day as the beginning of our rebellion. Go forth, my champion. I believe in you.”
“I’m not your champion. I’m defending my love.” Leyla gritted her teeth. She would attempt to reason with the soldiers, but when that failed, she might really have to fight. She didn’t want to kill in Furore’s name.
“Quiet, human. This doesn’t concern you.” Furore pushed Leyla forwards so she continued sliding along the road. “Grinja, do your worst.”
Leyla bumped into Fayeth, faced her fellow soldiers, and could have sworn the dagger breathed in her grip.
Not Dead, Yet
“I thought you’d died!” Fayeth sounded furious and relieved at once.
“Furore…” Leyla didn’t want to confess to her cowardice, especially not with a crowd of soldiers who were starting to draw their swords. But if she didn’t, she could never become Fayeth’s equal. The elf had to forgive her. “The spirit faked my death, so I could escape and fulfill my goal, but I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want freedom.”
“Magda, was it?” Nathaniel, her former captain, revealed himself by removing his helmet and uncovering his sullen face. “I thought I recognized you. What do you think you’re doing? Our orders are to bring diplomat Herielas east. Has the forest confused you? Don’t you know what side you’re on, woman?”
“I do.” Leyla gripped Grinja hard and hoped she’d get a chance to injure Nathaniel. How could he not know her name? She’d served under him for months. “I’m protecting the woman I love from brutes. I’m a deserter.”
“What a pointlessly gallant gesture.” Nathaniel readied his sword. “You’ll die as the cretin you are. No one will remember your family when the king hears of your desertion. Their lives will be snuffed out.”
She hated the man for dragging her family into the situation. They may be selfish and terrible people, but they did not deserve to die for her choices.
The other nine soldiers encircled Leyla and Fayeth. They knew they didn’t have to fight, if they could keep them from running from Nathaniel.
“You love me?” Fayeth whispered. “Really?”
“I think so.” Leyla tried to shield Fayeth with her body. “I sure hope I do, or we’re both about to die for nothing.”
“I’ve walked with the dead for centuries.” Fayeth fell to her knees, placed her palms against the dirt on the road, and started chanting in elven. The wind grew stronger around them and stirred up dust and dirt. “You’ll restore my light to the living, I fear.”
“Enough of this witch’s tricks!” Nathaniel lunged for Leyla.
She parried his sword with the peculiar dagg
er, but only barely. If his attack had meant to kill her, she would have been dead. He seemed to be testing her. Not that she understood why, since his sword was twice the length of her dagger. Did he intend to kill her without getting a single scratch on his armour?
Leyla wished Grinja had been the size of a sword. It would have made it easier to fight the captain and his soldiers. She had obvious disadvantages when she used a dagger against ten soldiers clad in armour.
If she hadn’t been around magic the last week, she would not have believed a wish could make Grinja grow in size, but the dagger did lengthen and broaden to satisfy its new wielder. The demonic weapon chose her side. Furore had lent her the dagger to defend Fayeth, and that alone made it possible to ignore how Grinja unsettled her.
Leyla gripped the larger hilt with both hands, struck at Nathaniel, and wished to disarm him. If she could disarm the captain, she could make the soldiers listen to her. No one needed to die.
Of course, Grinja listened in her own way.
Fayeth’s chanting echoed in Leyla’s ears, and the sudden power in the sword tore her from side to side. Grinja made Leyla dance around her opponent. Nathaniel failed to predict her erratic movements and defend himself against every lunge of her living, breathing sword.
Leyla ended up behind Nathaniel, Grinja cut off both of his hands. He screamed, blood gushed out of his stumps, and nine soldiers rushed them at once. Leyla may have disarmed the captain, turned him into a non-threat, but she couldn’t fight nine angry men and women. She would die.
Fayeth slammed her palms against the road and chanted louder until the wind obfuscated everything around them.
Leyla lost sight of the soldiers, coughed as dirt entered her mouth, and tried to get an idea of where the next attack would come from.
She heard the soldiers coughing, and Nathaniel screaming, but she could only see Fayeth’s hair flailing at her side. The wind tore at the elf till Leyla feared she might get tossed into the sky.
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