by Joey W. Hill
As remarkable a sight as all that was, when Uthe’s attention slid back down toward the stream, he found something even more arresting on the bank a few hundred feet below them.
A female fairy and a snow white horse stood together there. The horse’s golden tail was braided with the purple, pink and silver flowers. The colors were on the white flanks, small handprints, like a child had decorated the horse with ink made from the flowers’ essence. The female Fae had long brown hair, caught in intricate coils and threaded with more of the flowers, the remaining fall of hair tumbling down her back between her wings, a green and gold color. She leaned against the horse’s side, her shoulder pressed into the creature’s shoulder.
In the water, another girl played. This one didn’t have wings or pointed ears, but Uthe knew from Keldwyn that there were a remarkable number of Fae races, whose features and forms were similar to the diversity of the animal world he knew. A birdlike creature was flitting around her, dipping down to use its barbed tail and leathery wings to splash the girl as she retaliated, laughing. The bird made a piercing cry. As it twisted in the air and spouted a short gust of flame, Uthe realized it was a small dragon, with amber-colored scales and a tail whose tip was shaped like a pointed axe blade.
It was not the only wrong assumption he’d made. As the horse lifted her head from the water, a spiral golden horn on her forehead caught the sunlight. The unicorn’s delicate nostrils flared and she snorted, drawing the Fae girl’s attention to their arrival. Her eyes were large for her petite features, outlined by dark, thick lashes. She spoke to the girl playing in the water, then turned and moved toward them, so swiftly her wings lifted her off the ground, her bare feet teased by the tips of the meadow grass.
“Can you use your wings to fly like that?” Uthe asked Keldwyn, curious.
“Mine are more ornamental, though they can give me a lift advantage during fights. But like a cape, they can get in the way. Such as when my opponent tries to grab onto one.” Kel tossed him a significant look, reminding Uthe of their fight on their stairs in Savannah.
“If I remember, you used that hold to electrocute me.”
Keldwyn hmphed, but they left off the conversation as the fairy descended within a few feet of them, her soft smile dazzling. Her eyes were grey-green like smooth tree bark, her skin smooth as glass and the dusky color of the Oriental beauties Uthe had seen in his travels.
Her slender body and limbs reminded Uthe of a willow tree. The vivid green and gold of her wings were layered like its leaves. She wore an earth-colored pendant around her neck, framed by the neckline of a gossamer green tunic that clung to her supple body and separated into more layered leaf shapes around her slim thighs. Though her ears were pointed like Keldwyn’s, they were longer and angled to mold close to the sides of her head.
While her expression indicated warm welcome, she said nothing right away, looking between Keldwyn and Uthe expectantly.
“This is Catriona,” Keldwyn said. “She is a dryad. Catriona, this is Lord Uthe.”
A dryad. That explained the impression of a tree. Uthe extended a hand. When she placed hers in it, curious, he bent over it courteously. Nothing about this place suggested a contemporary handshake would make sense. “My lady, it is a pleasure.”
She surprised him by holding onto him as she turned to Kel. “How long can you spend with us today?” Her voice was breathy music like a gentle breeze, welcomed by the senses in whatever portion it was offered. Uthe realized she was older than she appeared. An immortal trait shared by vampire and Fae but, as Rhoswen had pointed out in her meeting with Uthe, it was the way one spoke, body language, or a certain look in the eyes that revealed maturity. While Uthe could not guess her actual age, she was an adult, though very young by Fae standards. Perhaps forty years.
“We can spend the afternoon,” Keldwyn told her. “What would you like to do?”
Her gaze swept the meadow, the unicorn and her young friend. The girl had come out of the stream and drawn closer, taking a seat on a stump. The dragon curled in her lap like a kitten, but he was so large he hid most of her, the long tail wrapped around her calf. The dragon blinked at Uthe with gold eyes.
“I think we should play here,” Catriona said. “You need to relax with your friend. I’ll braid your hair. You don’t usually leave it down like this when you travel. If you’re going to fight monsters, you’ll need it out of your way. It would be embarrassing to be dead because your long, flowing hair is in your eyes.”
The girl behind the dragon giggled. Keldwyn cast her a mock intimidating look and she tried to subside, ducking behind her scaled friend, but she was obviously already familiar with the Fae Lord and had no fear of him. “This is Della,” he told Uthe. “She is Catriona’s human friend.”
At Uthe’s surprised look, Keldwyn explained. “We have blocked human passage into our world for some time, but Queen Rhoswen has always shown limited tolerance for special human youngsters, particularly if they are respectful believers in the Fae world. She creates crossing points in their gardens and natural play spaces. Della is one such special child. Though quite impudent,” he added, raising his voice and tossing her that glare again. “I shall have to turn her into a bright blue frog to teach her manners.”
“Ribbit, ribbit!” Della responded, dislodging the dragon so she could hop across the ground like an amphibian. Though she was somewhat chubby, she moved with great energy.
Uthe’s brow creased. The same insight that told him Catriona was an adult told him that Della was less mature than her apparent age, around sixteen years old.
“She is what the humans would call slow, or mentally challenged,” Keldwyn said low, reading his face. “An underdeveloped mind. But here, she is at ease.”
“Will she not be missed?”
“She crosses over in her mother’s garden.” Catriona supplied that explanation. “She is out of view for less than a blink, even if she spends the whole day here. You are compassionate, my lord. It matches what Kel told me of you. Most of it.”
She sidled closer to Keldwyn, sliding her fingers through his loose hair and tangling there, giving the freed strands a significant look that he answered with a narrow-eyed warning. Her lips quivered against another smile, though this one she suppressed. Uthe sensed she’d once laughed more freely, but the joy was still there, just exercised more cautiously than before.
“What did Kel tell you of me?” Uthe wanted to know.
“After Lady Lyssa, he respects you more than any other vampire. Maybe a little bit more than Lady Lyssa some days, but I think that’s when he doesn’t agree with her on something.”
“What about the days he and I don’t agree?”
Her eyes danced. “He says vampires were a mistake by Creation and will shortly be ended by their own stupidity. He also calls you names.”
“Nothing I haven’t called you to your face, Lord Uthe,” Keldwyn said, unperturbed. “Stubborn ass. Brainless primordial ooze.”
“I’m so relieved it was nothing truly derogatory.”
“Maysie made some of her cakes for you.” Catriona changed the subject, turning back to Keldwyn. “She didn’t lace any with love potions. I checked. I’ll get them and some mead and we’ll have a picnic.” She gave Uthe another studied look. “You are very handsome, in a different way from most vampires,” she decided. “More lines on your face, but they make sense. I understand better now why he likes you.”
As Catriona ran off hand-in-hand with Della, the unicorn and dragon in pursuit, Uthe was bemused by the declaration. Up until now, his understanding of Kel’s regard for him had been clouded by the motives of their respective worlds. Catriona had no reason to tell him anything but the truth, did she?
Keldwyn didn’t look discomfited by her revelation, which was even more unsettling. “Love potions?” Uthe questioned. Keldwyn winced.
“Maysie is quite lush and lovely, and as sturdy, stubborn and loyal as a brick wall. She has not taken the hint in several decades, sure t
hat I will eventually tire of my travels and want to settle down in her cottage with her. When Catriona was much younger, she lost her mother and her father abandoned her. Maysie would care for her when I had to be away. She seems to have no sense of the difference in our classes, or why that should matter.”
“I expect you haven’t been sufficiently cruel enough to make that clear. Or maybe she does know it and thinks you could be happy with a simpler life. It is usually true, but not always possible.”
Keldwyn made a noncommittal noise. Wandering into the shade of the purple and pink trees, he dropped down onto the grass, leaning back on his elbows and stretching out his legs. His natural sensuality couldn’t help but draw Uthe’s close attention, unless he wanted to stab out his eyes to deprive himself of the pleasure. Keldwyn tipped his head up to look at him, his dark hair falling back and coiling on the grass. His lips curved.
“Come closer, vampire. I’m not the one who bites.”
He could argue that point, but Uthe found no reason to resist sitting on the grass next to him. Keldwyn turned on his hip, his hand lying loosely along it.
“Is a simpler life what you discovered when you served with the Templars?”
“Yes. And no. I didn’t come from excessive wealth, but there was no simplicity to the life I lived before I joined the Order. A very structured, predictable life proved…a way to peace. Later on, when they developed the Rule, with all its tenets for eating, sleeping, living, it almost eliminated the need for independent thought outside of battle. For a short time at least, that was easier. I embraced that.”
Keldwyn remained silent, compelling Uthe to reach deeper. He wanted to say things to Kel he hadn’t ever said to anyone, perhaps to reassure himself that his thoughts, the lessons he’d learned, would be remembered, even when he couldn’t recall them. In that way, he would still somehow exist, even without an awareness of himself. “The things a soul actually needs is a short list. Yet the Rule stilled the clamor even for those. I centered my desires on God’s Will and for a short time I found contentment. In that state, you believe the things you long to have will be answered in time, and that is enough.”
The sound of wings and running footsteps told him Catriona was returning. He met Keldwyn’s serious eyes but the Fae said nothing as Della knelt at Uthe’s side and Catriona sat down in front of Keldwyn’s thighs, using his body like the back of a chair as she spread out the cakes and the stoppered bottles of mead. Della pressed up against Uthe, peering into his face. “Your teeth are funny. Sharp. Like knives. Can I see them closer?”
Uthe obligingly bent. They shot forth, a quick snap that had Della jumping back and then giggling as he spread his lips in a comic snarl. Before he made them retract again, he let her draw closer and touch, but he clasped her wrist to control the movement so she didn’t press against a tip and break her skin. Hearing the beat of her blood through her throat, hunger stirred. It reminded him of what Keldwyn had said about needing to feed soon after his arrival in the Fae world. Who had he arranged for a meal?
He wished he could regret Keldwyn letting Uthe feed off of him. But even if it dimmed the appeal of any other option, he couldn’t. If he’d only been able to feed from the Fae Lord once, he would prize that memory. As for whoever the source was, it was just food. He would thank Keldwyn for the consideration.
The stubborn, intolerant, pointy-eared elitist. He’d called Keldwyn that once or twice in the heat of debate.
“Would you take a bite, Lord Uthe?” Catriona extended a small piece of the cake. “I remember Jacob said vampires can eat a little.”
“I will. And if I end up taking Maysie as a result, it will be Keldwyn’s loss.”
“Like she would suffer a vampire.” Keldwyn scoffed. “She’d make you her drudge, sweeping and scrubbing the floors.”
“Nothing wrong with honest work.” Uthe chewed. “These cakes might be worth an eternity as a drudge.” He took a sip of the mead. “Though I’m now mindful of the fairy tales which say to eat or drink in the Fae world might keep you there forever. I may never be allowed to leave.”
“That will be up to Kel, not what you consume,” Catriona said. Keldwyn sent her a cryptic look which she returned with an innocent blink. She threaded her fingers through his loose dark hair once more, seeming to enjoy touching it as much as Uthe did. “Della, let’s take care of my lord Keldwyn’s hair. Shall we? Go collect some meadow grass for me. We must make it tight and fast, a warrior’s style, for I fear he will be facing some formidable enemies on this trip.”
Keldwyn touched her mouth, now in a somber moue. She was obviously under no illusions that his time with her today was not casual chance. She tilted her head into his hand, pressing her cheek against his palm. Uthe wanted to tell her that he would compel the Fae to stay if he could, but he didn’t wish to patronize her. He knew little of the feelings of those left behind when a soldier went into battle. He’d always been the one going, never the one staying.
The moment passed. With a squeeze of Keldwyn’s leg, she hopped nimbly over his hip and positioned herself behind him when he sat up to give her better access. Uthe stretched out on his hip to watch.
Even if he could compel the Fae to stay behind, there was no logic to that. The increasingly unpredictable state of his mind had been calmer for the past day, but if it flared, he’d need a companion whose steadiness he could trust. His mission was important enough to be worth both their lives. That didn’t necessarily ease that decision for Uthe, but at least Keldwyn was a peer. He understood the risks and made his own choices.
Kel. That’s what Catriona called him, and what Uthe was starting to call him more frequently in his own mind. He remembered the look on Keldwyn’s face the one time it had slipped from his lips, his pleasure at Uthe calling him familiar.
Catriona had produced a comb from somewhere, and was working it through the Fae Lord’s hair, the fine strands turning into flaxen silk under her ministrations. She was making idle conversation about what she and Della had been doing, things Maysie had said, and asking questions about the ball the vampires had held for Rhoswen. She asked how Jacob and Lady Lyssa were doing, particularly Jacob. The girl seemed very attached to Lyssa’s servant, and Uthe wondered what experiences they’d shared together. However, females always gravitated toward Jacob as a general rule. Not for the reasons the camp followers used to trail the Crusader armies, but because the boy had a particular way about him. It told women he could be trusted with their wellbeing. Despite Lyssa’s formidable nature, he expected that side of him called to her softer emotions as well.
Uthe tuned back in to find the Fae Lord watching him. Kel responded amicably to Catriona, but his eyes never left Uthe’s. Uthe’s gaze shifted, not because it bothered him to be caught in those onyx depths, but because he enjoyed watching how Catriona handled his hair. She’d woven four braids and twined the meadow grass in them to add to the binding. Two of the braids were slender ropes which followed his temples, behind the pointed ears and back, to be twisted and tied with the other two. She wrapped the full length in more meadow grass, forming a secure tail that kept every stray wisp from his face. When she finished, it was a very warrior-like look, enhancing the formidable edges of his features, lips, cheekbones and brow. Well, it was warrior-like, until Della stuck a few tiny yellow flowers here and there among the braids.
The Templar Code had forbidden long hair. Too many knights in the secular world had cultivated “flowing locks” to go with their ornately decorated horses and studded armor. St. Bernard had beseeched the Templars to eschew such trappings, only outfitting themselves as necessary to serve their fight in God’s name. In their first few years, they wore only what was donated to them. Even the white mantle had remained unembellished for some time, no red cross until Pope Eugenius had authorized the cross of martyrdom for them.
Uthe’s hair had been long when he’d joined, and Bernard’s exhortation had not come for well over a decade after that. Yet, as if anticipating the nature of the
role he was embracing, one of the first things he’d done was cut off his hair, and he kept it cut. The physical perfection of a born vampire was undeniable, but he’d done what he could to minimize it. Fortunately sweat and desert sand were good at concealing a fair countenance. Well, unless a male looked like Kel, as Cai had observed so brashly.
Uthe wanted to stroke the braids along Kel’s temples, trace the outline of his ears. He hadn’t done that yet, touched his ears. He’d intuited that was an exceptional intimacy, akin to a vampire placing his fangs against another vampire’s throat. But he thought of doing it now. If they were alone, he would sit behind Keldwyn where Catriona was now, inhale the fresh scent of cut meadow grass and yellow flowers as he leaned close. He’d press his forehead against Keldwyn’s back as he enjoyed a leisurely exploration of his ears, his shoulder, his biceps. He’d sit silently, so still in this meadow where he could be like Della, no fear for a lost or a poorly functioning mind.
He snapped himself away from that line of thinking. This was the temptation of leisure time, this meandering that could go to melancholy or self-indulgence. “…all should take care of the sick, and he who is less ill should thank God and not be troubled; and let whoever is worse humble himself through his infirmity and not become proud through pity.”
So said the Rule. He was not a child, and Della’s protection here was not effortless, no matter if it seemed like a magical world where nothing bad could happen. Protection always required vigilance from someone, somewhere. No world was without sin.
Della had sat back down in front of Uthe so she could lean against his bent knee, easy with physical contact with a total stranger. She had no reason to doubt her safety here, and he was glad of it. The dragon perched in the tree over him, his tail twitching not far above Uthe’s head. He hoped dragons weren’t like birds, with their profuse amount of droppings. Glancing up, he met slanted eyes that seemed amused, curious and highly aware. He expected the creature would be greatly offended by his concern, though not above acting exactly like a normal bird if Uthe annoyed him.