Illera's Darkliete: A Coming of Age Fantasy

by Gail Gernat

  Illera had no pot to make tea, so she gave a mushroom to the creature, who stared at her brows furrowed and finally put it in its mouth and began to chew. She took the fleshy leaves and slit them with her hoof knife, letting the sap drip into the open wound. The creature hissed and spat, jumping from his place on the rock only to sag down again a few feet further on.

  “I’m sorry,” Illera told him, “Usually I can process the juice, so it doesn’t sting, but I can’t here. I hope you can put up with the pain.”

  The ogre growled something incomprehensible. Illera continued, squeezing the sap into the wound, angling around the creature’s body until she got to its armpit. Then she took the moss and packed it over the gash. She gave the beast another mushroom to chew on and sat beside it to wait. Every few minutes she ran her hand a few inches over the moss bandage.

  The day declined and the night stole upon them. Illera continued to run her hand over the treated wound. The creature panted beside her. Twice more she gave him mushrooms and gradually his breath quieted, and he fell asleep. Nearing dawn, Illera herself dozed off. The creature’s stirring woke her.

  “What manner of thing be this?” It towered over her.

  Illera rose to her feet. When it was wounded on the ground, the beast had not seemed so tall nor so massive. The moss hung in tattered strips from the thin red line of the wound. The skin around it was pink and healthy. The beast stood, bunching its prominent muscles.

  “It looks good today.”

  “What are you?” it asked her again.

  “I’m just woman. My name is Illera.”

  The creature ducked its head. “I am Frak, Windsinger of the tribe belonging to Targ of the Shul. Why would you, a woman, heal me, an ogre?”

  “Pleased to meet you Frak. And why would I not heal you? It was in my power to do so, and you were in need, how could I withhold that from you?”

  The beast shook his head. “Your manner of thought is strange to me. I will think on it as I travel home. Know this, Illera, human woman; Frak Windsinger owes you a life debt.”

  The ogre bent his head to her once more, then left, climbing the steep hillside as easily as a mountain goat. Illera took a handful of grain and chewed it thoughtfully as she descended.

  This part of the country was not familiar to her as were the castle environs. To reach her goal she needed to head east, to find Faerie Bay. Taking her position by the sun, she walked towards it, gradually descending from the hills to lower ones then rolling grassland. The forest was left behind. At first, she felt nervous and exposed, but she realized that they could not track her and Madean was a big place to search for a single missing maiden. So, she tripped along delighting in the warm sun and the sounds of life surrounding her from the singing of the meadowlarks and finches to the comforting hum of insects. There were farmhouses and people scattered through the countryside, but she could see them well enough in advance to avoid going near.

  The sun traveled overhead and moved to warm her back as she headed towards the invisible sea. The land smoothed out, becoming flatter and the farms were closer together and harder to avoid. The sky darkened as the clouds piled overhead. Illera had barely enough time to get her cloak fastened before the Thunderer let loose with his bolts and rain.

  Feeling the exhaustion of the miles and the healing, she staggered and fell, so she found an overhang on the lee side of a slight hill and folded herself into it, with only her cloak exposed on the outer side. It was a little dryer than the fields, but chilly. Her stomach was beginning to complain, but she told it to be quiet and tucking her hands in her armpits, curled into a ball and slept, lulled by the drumming of the storm overhead.

  “Ow!” She unfurled, hurling herself out of her meager shelter.

  A small boy stood before her holding a sharply pointed stick.

  “See, I tole you it war somebody.” He said to the taller boy beside him. Both boys were dressed only in frayed, ragged pants. The pouring rain sluiced over their heads and cascaded down their skinny naked chests. Their feet were bare and callused. A small drove of sheep bleated around them, eager to be gone to the shelter of a fold.

  “Who are you?” demanded Illera.

  “I be Kest, and he be Ades,” the taller of the boys told her. “We’s just watchin’ th’sheep.”

  “Yes, Lady, come w’th’us. You c’n shelter within th’sheep an us,” the smaller one put in.

  “Thank you,” Illera told them.

  They set off with their small band of animals and Illera trailed behind them until they came at last to a cozy stone pen, roofed tight with heavy timbers and thatch. The boys bedded the sheep down, and soon the warmth of the animals crept through the structure. The children offered her a share of their supper of well-cured bacon, cheese, and bread. Illera gratefully accepted, offering them, in turn, some of her grain. It was a silent and solemn exchange. The boys shook out some dusty hemp bags and made her a bed. Illera sagged down on it and was instantly asleep.

  The bleating of the sheep leaving for the pasture in the morning woke her, and she continued on her journey. This day was gray and dull, the sun choosing to hide its face behind a thick swaddling of clouds. Illera persisted, trudging east, trotting when she could, but walking at as fast a pace as she could maintain most of the time.

  The land was inclining downward, the grass growing sparser and changing from a fine bladed variety to one with coarse, sharp edges. The tang of the sea was in her nostrils. She hurried. The southern curve of Faerie Bay spread beneath her. The low sandstone cliff guarded the bay and Illera searched for a downward path to the glittering white sand. The rock was sheer and unbroken, gliding smoothly to the sea. Illera flopped on her belly and inched backward over the cliff, hanging on with hands as her feet scrambled against the rock for toeholds. Her muscles gave out, and her fingers slipped from the edge. Down she tumbled to the beach, the hard curve of the rock guiding her path. She landed stomach down and winded; gasping for breath.

  Feeling dizzy when she sat up and more than a little disoriented, she gazed around at the strange area. The sand had an unnatural shimmer and the blue-green waves rolling onto the beach had a glamour about them she had never seen. The cliff rose up, sparkling walls against the roiling sky; particles of mica shining without the sun. Farther down the beach six long brown shapes lay in careless abandon on the sand.

  Illera went towards them, straining her eyes and making out that they were seals. Half of them humped over to the water and dove into it before she got close. Two others moved to the edge of the water, waiting to see what she would do. When she continued, they too took to the depths. Only one lay in the shining sand watching her approach. She began her song. Its head came up, and it watched her with white-ringed eyes. She admired it from a distance for a few minutes, pleased at the sleek mottled coat and large shining eyes. She shook her head, for the seal seem to change, elongate and grow legs and arms. It stood upright and walked towards her. The song died in her throat.

  He had the same grizzled hair as the seal; a thick, sleek beard covered his face and continued down his chest. His loins were covered with a sealskin garment, but hairy legs protruded from that. His eyes were large, dark and seal-like and his teeth small and pointy when he smiled. He stopped a few feet from her and regarded her with his head cocked to one side.

  “Lera?” he asked.

  “My name is Illera, if that is what you are asking.”

  His nose went up into the air, and he sniffed. “You are human,” he stated.

  “Yes.”

  “And yet not.”

  “Who are you?” Illera took a step back, frightened as she had never been of animals.

  His smile was daunting. “I am the guardian selkie. Why are you in Faerie Bay? This is no place for humans.”

  “I’ve come to find my mother,” declared Illera.

  The selkie nodded his head. “The daughter whom Lera bore to the human who stole her heart.”

  She looked at the selkie, unsure
what to answer.

  “It was my understanding of the bargain that you were to remain human, not become part of the Sidhe.”

  “I…I don’t know anything about a bargain. I’ve only come to find my mother.”

  “Why?” the creature demanded in a voice of iron.

  “Well, you see, my father…uh…made a marriage alliance for me, without my agreement, to this…uh …person who has a nasty reputation. And …I…uh…”

  “And you have this feeling of doom about it,” the selkie finished for her.

  “Yes, exactly,” replied Illera wondering how the creature understood so perfectly.

  “That is the elf in you, that sure certainty of the outcome of your course in life.”

  “Oh, then…”

  “You are right, of course. The marriage alliance will be a disaster. But, for all that, you must go through with it. You are half human, and as a human, there is no place for you among the Sidhe.”

  “No,” cried Illera stamping her foot, “I’d rather be dead than have Torul as a husband.”

  The selkie gave her a sly smile. “I can do naught for you with regards to your mother. Only Sidhe can travel to our land, and you are half human.”

  “Has there never been a case where a human, or part human traveled to your land? I’ve heard the legends.”

  The selkie nodded his head. “It has happened, but as you know from your legends time moves differently in our dimension. Any who leave the here and now can only return decades or centuries in the future. All they know is dead and gone. It drives humans mad. That is why we do not permit such travel anymore.”

  “But I don’t want to come back. I just want to go and stay there forever, to be with my mother and get to know her.”

  The selkie’s eyes began to glitter. “You wish never to return to Madean?’

  “Yes, I wish to leave here and never come back.”

  “I understood you resisted the marriage because you had no wish to leave Madean and yet now you flee from it?”

  Confused, Illera shook her head. “Yes, I felt at first I couldn’t leave Madean, but since Madean throwing me out, then I feel I have no choice but to leave.”

  “Even if it plunges Madean and Frain into centuries of war?”

  Illera hesitated. “I can’t marry Torul.”

  The selkie nodded his head as if he had made a decision. “Very well, remove your dress, the weight will pull you down too much.”

  Illera stripped off her cloak, jacket, skirt, and blouse and stood there in her camisole and bloomers, shivering a little with the wind blowing about them from the sea. The selkie nodded again, taking her arm began to pull her towards the ocean.

  “But, but Mr. Selkie, I can’t swim,” she protested.

  The selkie snorted. “I can’t imagine a creature that cannot swim. But you don’t need to in this instance, for I shall take you.”

  The hands hardened to claws, piercing her skin and it smiled at her with a hungry rapacity that terrified her. She pulled back, digging her heels into the sand and struggling against the painful grip.

  “Now little halfling, remember you wanted this, you wanted to disappear.” It snarled at her.

  “I wanted to go to my mother,” Illera screamed pulling back towards the shore as it dragged her ever deeper into the water. She could feel its hunger, a burning desire to feed on her flesh. Horror swept over her.

  “Can’t always have what you want,” it snapped back, becoming more bestial by the moment.

  Illera screamed; a terrified shriek howling from her throat.

  “Hang on!” She thought she heard the words drifting to her on the wind.

  The selkie looked over her shoulder and snarled again. It tried to drag her faster, but she fought harder, flailing at it with her free hand and kicking it where she could. She leaned back towards the shore, dipping her shoulder into the chilly waters. A thrashing sounded behind her. The selkie let her go, and she tumbled under the waves, fighting to get her feet beneath her again. A great commotion was stirring up the sand and churning the waves into foam. As her lungs were about to burst, a large hand pulled her upright, and she found her footing.

  Waist deep in the water Lark and Raven fought with the selkie. They were fully clothed in their armor, and Illera felt a thrill of fear that one or the other might slip under the waves and be pulled down by the weight. The selkie fought ferociously, brandishing a silver sword, but the men battled even more fiercely. Ashera caught Illera by the arms and pulled her back to the sand where she stood shivering and riveted to the action in the water. It seemed like hours that the men exchanged blows with the selkie. Finally, Lark turned a thrust and Raven plunged his sword into the beast, running it through to the other side. The seal man collapsed, and the warriors dragged him through the surf to the shore to deposit him at Illera’s feet.

  She knelt down, feeling the life running out of him. She rushed for her pile of clothes and snatched up the bag. Tearing it open, the grain spilled to the sand. She sifted through it until she found the fleshy leaves and slitting one open she dripped it into his deep piercing. She placed her hands over the wound and concentrated. The blood stopped, forming a gelatinous mass under her hands. She applied the remains of the healing moss and held it there with her hands, willing life and strength into the creature.

  “What are you doing?” demanded Lark.

  “I’m healing it.”

  “Are you demented, that thing tried to kill you?”

  “It was only doing what it thought was right. It’s a living creature, and it doesn’t deserve to lose its life because of me.”

  The selkie opened its eyes. “I was taking you below the waters to kill and eat you,” it told her candidly.

  Illera looked square into its eyes, “I know.”

  “So why should you heal me?”

  “As I already told another creature, why not? If I can do good, should I not?”

  The selkie nodded. “I understand, but do you?” He lay back on the sparkling sand.

  As she concentrated on the selkie’s words, Illera saw with depressing clarity that despite the pain it might bring to her, that she must go to Frain, and if it must be that she marry Torul, then the lives of generations would be saved by her sacrifice.

  She poured her strength and healing into the selkie, finally collapsing beside it in the sand. Ashera wrapped Illera’s cloak around her and sat close sharing body heat. Lark and Raven had a fire of driftwood pieces going. Raven came over and put a cup of hot soup into her hands. The pieces of meat were still hard and the broth watery, but Illera thought she had never tasted anything quite so good. She drank it to the last drop.

  As the day was declining, the selkie rose. The wound was only a memory on his hairy chest.

  “Lady Illera, my name is Shwawnigon. As you know in the Sidhe, our names have power. You have my name and my loyalty.”

  It bowed low over her hand then strode to the sea. It waded out until the water reached its waist and turned back to her. A strange glow surrounded it.

  “You will travel north and thereby save the kingdom, and by saving the kingdom, you will save yourself, and the Darkliete sent from beyond to illuminate this world. We will meet again, Illera, daughter of the Sidhe. I will tell Lera her child fares well.”

  The selkie dove into the water and vanished from their sight. A cold wind was rising, making Illera aware of the tears that tracked down her face and the damp underwear she was wearing, covered only by the soiled cloak.

  “Why are you crying my Lady,” Lark inquired softly. “He was your enemy and tried to kill you.”

  “But he made me know myself,” was her whispered reply.

  Chapter 4

  Lark was a speck trudging back to them from the west and Raven a similar spot moving towards them from the east. Illera warmed her hands over the tiny flames as she watched them grow larger in tiny increments. Crouching beside the princess, Ashera placed the last stick of driftwood on the flames.

&
nbsp; “I hope they found a way up and off this accursed beach.” Ashera rubbed her hands briskly.

  Illera looked past Raven to the sea where the setting sun blinded his eyes and dyed the waves crimson, violet, orange, and magenta. She noted the line of his shoulders and the way he held his head.

  “I don’t think Raven found any access to the grasslands.”

  The warrior woman grunted. “Maybe the other one was more successful.”

  Illera turned to watch Lark, her eyes straining to pick out his silhouette against the darkening cliff. She noted his normal jaunty stride was shorter and he appeared to lift his feet against the sand with more effort.

  “I don’t think Lark found anything either.” She sighed.

  “By the Thunderer, do we have to live here the rest of our miserable lives. Surely others have come to Faerie Bay and left again?”

  Illera smiled up at the taller woman. “I’m sure they have. But I came not intending to leave, and I think you probably came down about as precipitously as I did.”

  Ashera chuckled. “Yes, that we did. We come over that headland with the sound of your screams in our ears; the horses nearly foundered. The two squires were down off their horses and over that cliff before I even clapped eyes on you being dragged into the water. T’was a rare sight indeed to see them tearing over the sand like that, and what could I do but follow without a thought as to how we were going to make it back up that cliff. And a good thing too, I was there to drag you out before you drown.”

  Illera put her hand on the other woman’s arm. “Yes, Ashera, I never did thank you for pulling me out. I do appreciate your help, and I’m sure that the kingdom will someday owe its freedom to your assistance today. Thank you.”

  The giantess looked startled. “You are very welcome my Lady, but it is unnecessary to thank me. No one ever thanked me before for doing my job.”

  Illera smiled at her and turned back to the fire. The men were coming closer as the sky grew ever darker; the heavy cloud cover blanketing the light over the land. Raven broke into a slow jog, arriving with a slight puff.