Weald Fae 01 - The Steward

by Christopher Shields

  “I’m sorry, that was silly. Your kind probably can’t die,” I said.

  “Actually, and I’m going to be in trouble for saying this, but yes, we can die. It’s not an ending as you likely perceive it, but our memories, our essence can be eliminated. Our Naeshura, or energy, never disappears, but it can take a new form.”

  “Like reincarnation?” I asked.

  “Perhaps, but since I haven’t died, I cannot say.” He smiled, still staring across the lake.

  “Smart ass,” I said, beginning to recover from my emotional turmoil. “So, where is Caorann now?”

  “I’m not sure. Other Fae have told me that she took bird form and for the last two thousand years she has not ventured far from where the cottage once stood, in what is now known as Glenariff Forest in the County Antrimm, Ireland. For centuries, there was a legend among the local people that the beautiful golden bird was an omen—that sadness and heartbreak were soon to follow wherever it appeared. The golden bird’s song was mournful, and anyone who heard it was rumored to be dragged into the deepest recesses of despair and madness. But like so many Irish tales, the lore of the golden bird vanished—long ago combined with and perverted into the stories of the banshee I imagine. If she is still in Ireland, she keeps to herself.”

  “So that’s why relationships are forbidden, because we die?”

  “No, Maggie, they are forbidden because we don’t. Caorann is but one example, and probably not the worst I could tell you. When Fae love, it forms the base of an eternal relationship. That is how it has always been with my kind—the connection is forever. Fae do not make a connection easily and we only make one during our existence.”

  He smiled. “Those connections simply continue on and on. There is little chance for a Fae pairing to end, except in the exceptionally rare event that one ceases to exist. The clan wars left many Fae wounded to the core when one-half of a pair was slain. We learned that when one died, the other soon followed, or rather, it was best if they did. The survivors likened their existence to being torn in half. Some of my kind destroyed entire cities in grief induced rage.”

  During the next few moments, I considered all that he’d said and understood perfectly the point Gavin was making. The rule was necessary for the sanity of the Fae and for the well-being and safety of people. I wanted Gavin more than ever, especially after hearing the emotion in his voice and seeing the warmth in his eyes, but I knew that was impossible.

  With all the emotion hidden from his face, Gavin shocked me. “This is why it is so important that I know, right now, if it is possible for us to work closely together without risking an emotional attachment.”

  My head spun when I considered the words. It was obvious, though I hadn’t considered it until now. Gavin was meant to be my Treoraí, my guide. I knew I’d get a guide, Sara told me as much. How could I not see it? Gavin showed up in Eureka Springs just before I did. He’s playing the part of a sixteen-year-old and he’s my neighbor. It was right there the entire time.

  “You’re my Treoraí, aren’t you?”

  “Possibly. I’ve been selected to be your Treoraí, but it’s not final. I can only fulfill that duty on the condition that you fully understand what it involves. I will be your guide, and therefore, a part of your life for as long as you live, so long as we fully understand and agree to the limits placed on us. I’m afraid my kind, both clans, are even more serious than before—if we agree to this arrangement and things go too far…” he paused for a long moment, “it is essentially a death sentence.” He smiled at me, but I sensed how serious he was.

  My chest tightened with a surge of adrenalin. “Oh my god, they’d kill me if we fell in love.”

  His expression changed, his features hardening. “No, not you. Take no offense, but you’re not their concern.”

  Hearing those words made me see stars. With my head spinning, my mind struggling to comprehend anyone bringing harm to Gavin, one thread wrapped itself around my thoughts and strangled the rest. I realized if I said no to him being my Treoraí, or if I showed him any indication that I was already attached, he couldn’t be my guide. That also meant he’d leave. The fear of losing him extinguished my anger almost instantly. I wanted him in any capacity that I could have him. I wasn’t in denial either—having him around for the rest of my life, unable to express how I felt, might end up making me completely miserable.

  For a split second I tossed around the possibility of telling him that I couldn’t do it, but I was weak. I resolved to do anything I could to keep him close to me. Self-control and reason abandoned me. I knew there was danger, a real danger that I might not be able to hold it together and I couldn’t promise him that I could remain in control. But he was strong. So far he hadn’t shown a scintilla of interest in me. I’d simply have to trust that he could keep an emotional distance, and in the pit of my stomach, I knew it would be all too easy for him—he was magnificent and immortal, and I was anything but.

  I gathered my wits and did the only thing I could think to do. I punched him in the bicep. Bewildered at first, he just stared at me.

  Before he could talk, I answered. “If you think you can keep your hands to yourself, buddy, I can handle it on my end. It’s not like I’m into the whole perfect teeth, Greek god body, immortal thing. I’d like you to be my Treoraí. Besides, who would they replace you with? Chalen?” It made my shoulders shudder.

  He stared intently into my face, clearly trying to read the images flashing in my mind. In my head I wrote ‘cut it out’ on a new sheet of mental paper. He finally broke into a smile.

  “I don’t get to make that decision. I was selected to be the next Treoraí just after you arrived ... but it’s not automatic—there are others who can step in if there is a need.”

  Now I was very curious. “Who selected you?”

  “The Seelie Council. After what happened with your father, we knew that you or your brother would be the next Steward. When you arrived two weeks ago it was obvious to Sara that you were the one.”

  “Why me and not my father?” I still wondered why they’d skipped a generation.

  “It could have been him, but when your dad was not much younger than you, Sara determined that he could not be the Steward. None of the O’Sheas of that generation could be.”

  Gavin paused and looked intently into my eyes as if he were looking past them. It was like he sought something further back in my mind.

  “Sometimes it skips a generation, and sometimes something happens to the intended Steward. A generation was skipped at least once before—the generation of your great, great, great grandparents, the generation prior to Lola, if I’m getting all the generations correct,” he said grinning. “A Steward must have a connection, though usually unawakened, to at least one of the elements, and that connection is created by inherent traits and learned behaviors. The connections appear in some families, like yours, and are passed from one generation to the next.”

  “I feel like you’re speaking in riddles. Sorry. What do you mean by inherent traits?” I asked.

  “I’m sorry—I suppose it does seem like a riddle. I forget that you only started believing in us yesterday,” he said, pointing his index finger to his head. “You’ve got some catch-up learning to do.”

  I cleared my throat and rolled my eyes at him. He laughed.

  “You passed the Earth trial why?” He paused.

  “I don’t know, because I’m Earth aligned?” I guessed.

  “Maggie, think about it. You passed the Earth trial because you possess an inordinate amount of self-control. While I didn’t see the trial, Sara said that you were able to calm yourself down and control your body in the very situation you feared more than any other. That’s quite a feat. I know you’ve seen the carvings in the temple—they are maps. They tell you the personal attributes that correspond with the primary elements. Earth and body, Water and mind, Air and spirit, Fire and soul, those are the pairings.”

  He looked into my eyes again and smiled. �
�She was correct about you.”

  “Who? Sara? What was she correct about?” I asked, trying to ignore the amber flecks in his eyes.

  “She said you were gifted.”

  I loved hearing that, though I had serious doubts about whether it was true. Still, to have Sara and Gavin call me gifted was incredible.

  “Do I sense doubt?” he asked with a smirk.

  “Oh, not much, only the tiny, itsy bitsy amount of lingering doubt any human girl would have after spending an hour and a half trapped in a cave on her head—probably not the most dignified way to take the Earth trial. I’m sure you heard that part?”

  He began laughing. “No, but please, spare no detail.”

  Rather than recount it, I played it back in my mind—except the part about him—and listened to the awkward soundtrack he provided while trying to stifle his laughter. After a few moments, a smile settled on his face. He was so easy to be around.

  “Sara was absolutely correct—you really are in control of yourself.”

  “Now you’re mocking me?”

  “No, honestly, that trial played on one of your deepest fears and you turned your nightmare into a situation you could laugh about. Maggie, that’s amazing. Everyone has fears. Everyone. Few people have the ability and willpower to work through them. That is what I mean by gifted.”

  The goofy, toothy smile I got anytime someone complimented me spread across my face. “Thanks. I hadn’t really thought about it that way. So this inherent trait, it’s something I was born with?”

  “Well, yes and no. Members of your family have traits that empower them to become Stewards, and much of that can be attributed to genetics. As men are fond of saying, the raw material is there. You were born with the ability, the connection—the way your mind works—but the fully developed trait isn’t purely genetic. The Council has always picked Stewards based on more than natural ability. Who you are and how you deal with various situations has a great deal to do with other things—your friends and family shape you, and so does every situation prior to this moment in time, good and bad. I don’t know the exact criteria, but Sara does. She is much older than me, and much better at recognizing what the Council is looking for. She has selected each Steward of the Weald Fae for 160 years—all except Pete O’Shea.”

  EIGHT

  SPECTACLE

  I had to know, so I looked at him squarely in the eyes.“So, the truth, why are you so frickin’ beautiful?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gavin said with a straight face.

  “Bull!” I said, raising my voice a little. “Why did you choose to be so beautiful?”

  He got a half-smile on his face and tilted his head just enough that the butterflies in my stomach lurched back to life. “Have you ever read stories about my kind? Read any stereotypes about us?”

  “I thought all of those were garbage?”

  He nodded his head. “Mostly, they’re terrible, but even authors who are horribly uninformed get it right about one thing. We are narcissistic.”

  I smiled, imagining him with gossamer wings.

  “I’ll have you know, Miss O’Shea, I have never adorned myself with insect wings, nor any wings for that matter. Stereotypes die hard, I guess.” He shook his head trying not to act amused.

  I thought it was only natural for the Air aligned Fae to take a bird or insect form at some point, as Devin and Sara made it sound like that was the norm, but it occurred to me that I’d never asked.

  “Are you Air aligned?”

  “No, I am not, and I’m surprised—I expected the question sooner.”

  He grinned, and grabbed another handful of stones. He began flicking them at the lake, one by one, as he’d done for the last thirty minutes. “I think if I’m going to be your Treoraí, you should guess.”

  I liked this game—it gave me an excuse to focus on him. I stood up and walked a few steps backwards to take him all in. The sun was high in the blue eastern sky and beaming down on him from behind. His hair, tousled in the morning breeze, shiny and black, framed his dazzling face. He lifted his hand just slightly and flicked a rock into the water. The muscles in his arm and chest moved under the blue fleece, flexing and relaxing when his arm fell back across his thigh. He was playing with gravel, I thought, so maybe he’s Earth aligned. I remembered in the cave when Devin transformed into the blond model, he too expressed disgust at the thought of having wings. For some reason, though, Earth didn’t feel right.

  I considered Water as I walked to his side. He lived near the lake, and seemed relaxed here on the beach. Sara explained to me that Water was tied to intellect and the essence of life. I considered those qualities as I watched him toss one more pebble at the lake surface. His back had the shape of a ‘V’—his shoulders more than twice as wide as his waist. The big muscles running from his neck to his shoulder, and those that ran across his upper back flexed and relaxed in unison. Water was a good option, I thought, but he seemed more visceral.

  I walked around him and he turned his head to follow until the morning sun was in his face. His eyes were the color of chocolate, dark chocolate, but for a few flecks of golden amber that reflected the sunlight. “Fire,” I said. I could tell by the grin on his face that I was correct.

  “So, what can you do?” I asked, “If you want to be my Treoraí, I should get a demonstration first.”

  He continued to focus on me, not moving a muscle or even blinking. From a tiny white cloud that floated above us, a bolt of lightning streaked through the sky down to the lake, hitting only two hundred yards away. I screamed and flinched when the crack of the thunder rumbled past me. Justice sprinted across the beach and disappeared up the trail. Gavin smiled devilishly.

  “Is that enough?” he asked.

  My heart was racing from the surge of adrenalin coursing through my veins. “No, show me more,” I begged.

  He had a wry look on his face, and lifted one eyebrow. He tossed one of the pebbles in his hand toward the lake. It burst into a fireball as soon as it left his fingers, striking the water in a trail of smoke, making a hissing sound as the bright flames sank below the surface before going out. I couldn’t stop the audible gasp that filled my lungs. He looked back at me and smiled. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  Gavin placed his hand against the side of the dead tree stump he sat on. I expected to see it burst into flame, but instead green shoots appeared inside a gaping crack that ran down the side of the log. Within a few seconds the shoots were several inches long and tiny buds began to form. At first I assumed he was bringing the tree back to life, but I realized that wasn’t the case when bright yellow dandelion blooms erupted and turned to white puffy seed heads in front of my eyes. A breeze picked up, blowing the tiny seeds onto the rocky beach. Within ten seconds the sequence repeated itself and thousands of dandelions emerged all around us. I stood there, agape.

  “Oh, not a fan of dandelions?” he asked. With that, each one burst into flames and disappeared into tiny blackened spots on the rocks in front of me.

  My mouth hung open for several seconds until he laughed.

  “Did you make the breeze?” I asked.

  “Wait!” He paused to laugh. “After all of that, you’re asking about the breeze?”

  I thought it was a perfectly reasonable question. “You’re Fire aligned—wouldn’t a gust of wind fall under the Air category?”

  He nodded his head. “Yes, it does. I’m not very good with Air, but the same principles that work with Fire energy also work with Air, Water and Earth.” He shook his head. “We don’t fit into neat categories. Naeshura is Naeshura—energy is energy. Most of us are better with one element than any other, ergo the whole alignment thing, but most Fae can manipulate all the elements to some degree, though it often requires physical contact. Then there is the Aetherfae who has balance with all elements.”

  Thinking back to Sara and the cave, it made sense. She is Air inclined, but helped me manipulate stone. Then I rem
embered what Aunt May had showed me in the Gazebo. In the center of the room, she pointed at the mosaic in the floor. There were four equal-sized circles arranged so they all intersected at exactly the same place in the center. A fifth circle, centered in the middle, overlaid the others. She said that the fifth circle represented Aether, the center. She said it was an ancient symbol for transcendence and insight.

  “Aetherfae? As in Aether, the element in the fifth circle, from the mosaic symbol in the floor of the Gazebo?”

  “Gazebo?” he mused. “An interesting and innocuous choice of words for that particular structure.” He shook his head. “But yes, Aetherfae does refer to a Fae who has mastery over the elements, but it’s more than just controlling them. Aether is the balance and harmony of all four—it is the understanding of the very essence of existence, and being in harmony with it. You see, I can control all four elements, but I cannot bring balance to them simultaneously.”

  “Do you know any Aetherfae?”

  “Only one—Ozara,” he said.

  “She’s on the Seelie Council?”

  “Yes, but Ozara is more than that. Ozara brokered the peace between the two clans and remains the only Fae the Unseelie truly fear. As you’ve probably guessed, Ozara’s ability to control all of the elements makes her a very powerful Fae, but her ability to create and control Aether makes her lethal. It was Ozara who brokered the deal with your family—she likes the O’Shea clan.”

  I was still curious about Aether, and what role it played in another term I’d heard in the cave. “How does a Maebown work into this?”

  He studied me for a moment with a small grin forming on his thick, masculine lips. “A Maebown is the human equivalent of the Aetherfae. A few humans develop a considerable ability to sense Naeshura, others learn to channel it, and some even learn to alter it. Maebowns are humans who have learned to find the balance in all four elements. Throughout history, there have been only two Maebowns. The first was an Egyptian who lived around five thousand years ago—the last was a Celt who lived nearly two thousand years ago.”