by S H Cooper
He ignores us and sweeps up a flight of curved stairs.
We step out on to an open air terrace. It’s bordered by stone pillars and a rail, all covered in creeping vines that twist upwards and fan out across the ceiling. Fragrant little flowers, white with golden specks along their petals, grow along the vines. Low tables, not even half the height of the one we eat at at home, are spread throughout the terrace. Fae are seated or lounging on large pillows around each table, sharing food and drink from large plates and bowls.
Firodyl takes us to a table set apart from the others on a small balcony. He tells us we may sit on any of the pillows except the golden, embroidered one. That is the Halofain’s. Supper has been laid out on the table: platters of fire-roasted chicken, minced beef pies topped with gravy, colorful vegetables, brown bread rolls with thick slabs of butter. Evening has settled and in the last, dim light of day, I can see the fields and hills spread out below the balcony.
Drake pushes one of the pillows aside and sits on the ground, his back to the balcony rail. He folds his arms over his chest and glares suspiciously down at the food. Joseph takes a bit of everything and tucks in with vigor that draws attention. His table manners, or the lack of them, aren’t quite what the fae are used to, it seems.
“Have some, Drake,” he encourages our sour brother. “It’s really good!”
Drake grunts and doesn’t move from his cross-armed position.
I lower myself gratefully on to the nearest pillow and sigh with relief, glad to be off my feet. Torren perches on the table edge beside me and tells me what she’d like. We share a plate, and I cut up some of the chicken and carrots for her.
Firodyl also sits at that table. He doesn’t speak. I’m suddenly shy again, too much so to eat like Joseph is in his presence, and can only nibble on one of the rolls.
With an air of ceremony, the fae picks up a pitcher of water and pours a cup for each of us before filling his own.
Torren beckons me closer and whispers, “He’s treating you as an honored guest. Fae visitors will usually serve their hosts first as a way to thank their host. When the host pours, it is a sign of respect.”
“Do we thank him?” I ask, worried that our ignorance of their customs will be seen as rude.
Torren shakes her head. “No. Wait until he is done his drink and then offer to refill it for him. That will be your thanks.”
I make a point to keep an eye on Firodyl’s cup and, when it’s empty, I reach for the jug of water.
“Would you like more?” I ask.
He lifts a brow, possibly surprised that I am offering, but nods. I carefully fill his cup again, praying silently I don’t spill any. Pouring a drink has never been so stressful! Once I’m done, he lifts the cup towards me and takes a sip. I take it as a sign of approval. Torren exhales softly and relaxes a bit. She had been just as worried that I was that I’d make a mistake.
Firodyl warms slightly after that. While still reserved, he breaks his previous silence.
“There was another with you when you arrived,” he says.
Drake shifts, on his guard. Before I answer, I glance down at Torren to see if I should speak. She nods.
“Aye,” I say.
“Where did he go?”
I think on my next words carefully. I don’t want to offend Firodyl by telling him Erik didn’t trust his people, especially not after the kindness they’ve shown us.
“He wanted to go home.”
“We didn’t want him with us anyway,” Joseph adds.
“You mean he did not want to come here,” Firodyl replies knowingly.
“No, he didn’t,” Drake says. There’s a challenging note in his voice and I want to shove a piece of the minced beef pie in his mouth to keep him from speaking any more.
Firodyl fixes him with a dour gaze before turning to me again. “He was a friend of yours?”
I twist my braid in my hands and bite my lip. How could I describe Erik, exactly? “Not a friend, really. He’s someone we know from our village.”
“Good,” the fae says. “There was something...off about him. It wasn’t right. I felt it as soon as you entered our lands.”
“That’s just Erik.” Joseph laughs.
But Firodyl isn’t laughing.
“Be that as it may, I would stay away from him, McThomas children. The earth shuddered beneath his feet.”
Drake scoffs and leans back against the pillar behind him. Maybe the Kilkaraban land could sense Erik’s distrust and didn’t trust him in turn. It sounded like something fae land would be capable of. I’d have to ask Torren about it later.
The Halofain joins us shortly after, taking his seat upon his golden pillow at the head of the table. He has my mother’s shawl around his shoulders. Firodyl fills his cup from a jug of red wine as soon as he’s settled.
“Why do you all look so serious?” the Halofain asks. “Tonight is one of celebration! We are among new friends. Come, tell me of life in Moorsden. It has been long since I’ve heard of the human world.”
We take turns telling him about our home. Joseph describes the village in great detail. I talk about Mother and Father. Even Drake pipes up to tell the Halofain about being in the knights’ ranks. Joseph can’t help himself and keeps turning the conversation back to the Kilkaraban. The fae lord listens with great interest and asks as many questions about us as Joseph does about him and his people.
Torren has long since given up on trying to keep Joseph’s curiosity in check, even when Firodyl shoots her pointed looks.
“You may stay the night if you wish,” the Halofain offers graciously as our meal comes to an end.
It’s tempting. My feet ache terribly at the mere suggestion of walking again and I can’t deny how tired the rest of me is too. Joseph also looks like he wants to accept. But Drake, despite having developed respect for the Halofain, declines before we can answer.
“We should keep moving,” he says. “The sooner we can find the cure and return to Father, the better.”
“We need to rest at some point,” Joseph says. “Especially Mary.”
I wish he hadn’t pointed me out specifically. I already feel like a burden enough as it is. I pout down at my empty plate, hoping the Halofain won’t think less of me because of it.
“It will take a few hours’ time before everything is in place to see you on your way. At least allow yourself some rest until we are fully prepared,” the Halofain insists.
“What’s being prepared, exactly?” Drake’s eyes narrow slightly.
“We’ll be happy to accept,” I cut in yet again before Drake can say something that will get us in trouble. “Joseph’s right. I could use the rest.”
“Very good.” The Halofain inclines his head. “Please show them to a guest chamber, Firodyl.”
Our guest chamber is small, but comfortable, furnished with a pair of beds and some chairs in front of a fireplace. After Firodyl leaves us, Joseph flops on to the nearest bed with a yawn.
“This is the most comfortable thing I’ve ever lain on,” he says.
I sink into the second one and have to agree. We haven’t been gone from home for long, but it already feels like ages since I was last in my own bed. I curl up, bunching one of the pillows beneath my head. Torren stretches out on one of the others that lines the wooden headboard.
“Come on, Drake,” Joseph says sleepily. “You can’t stay awake forever.”
“You sleep.” Drake has taken a seat in front of the fireplace. “I wouldn’t be able to, anyway.”
“Suit yourself,” Joseph mumbles, and it isn’t long before he’s snoring.
I’m unable to keep my eyes open any longer and soon join Joseph in slumber.
I feel like I’ve only been asleep for a moment before there’s a loud knock upon the door and Drake’s voice calling for the person to come in. Firodyl’s voice follows, saying that everything is ready and if we are still eager to leave, the Halofain is waiting for us.
I almost groan when I hear
Drake state with absolute certainty that we’re ready to go.
“Wake your brother and sister, then,” Firodyl says. “I’ll wait in the hall.”
Joseph stirs more easily than I do. Drake shakes my shoulder and pulls me upright when I whine in protest.
“Come on, Mary,” he says.
“Why can’t we stay the rest of the night?” I ask plaintively.
“Because we don’t have that luxury. Don’t forget what we’re doing here. Father can’t wait.”
His words are like cold water over me and I’m ashamed of my childish behavior. I slide off the bed, take a moment to rebraid my hair, which had become unkempt in my sleep, and gently wake Torren.
As much as I would have liked to stay and get a full night’s rest, Drake is right: Father cannot wait.
Chapter Fourteen
The Halofain is once more on his throne when we are brought before him. He’s speaking in fae-tongue, his words rising and falling like gentle waves. I only recognize one word: Gladfife. Servants are buzzing about as he talks, disappearing through doors I hadn’t noticed before. Joseph mumbles under his breath, trying to repeat any of the words he happens to catch. If his example is anything to go off of, fae-speak doesn’t have quite the same ring to it when spoken by a human.
“He’s ordering that food be brought to us,” Torren translates in a whisper. “And a new cloak for you, to replace your shawl.”
“He doesn’t have to,” I say anxiously.
“You do not turn down a gift from the Halofain, Mary,” Torren replies. “It would be terribly rude!”
“How will they help us?” Drake, always pragmatic, leans down to ask. “Horses?”
At least he’s showing a bit more respect now and not asking the question loudly. I have the feeling we’re very lucky he didn’t offend the entire court enough to throw us out. Or worse.
“No, nothing like that. Obviously they wouldn’t just give their prized steeds to children,” Torren snorts.
“I’ve been riding since I was a wee lad, fae,” Drake says.
“Aye, which isn’t near long enough. These are Kilkaraban bred horses we’re talking about! Not the mules you might find in a human pasture.”
“How then?” I interject. It’s getting tiring having to keep these two from stepping on each other’s toes for the sake of peace.
“I don’t know the right human word for it. In our tongue, it’s foras drochta. Doorway magic is probably closest.”
At the mention of magic, Joseph is no longer interested in the language being spoken. He’s at my side again, grabbing my arm like I might have missed what Torren had said.
“Doorway magic? Do you mean a portal? Like the great wizard, Infaris, used when he banished the dragon, Teronoch, to the realm of shadow?”
“I...maybe?” Torren looks at me with a confused wrinkle in her brow. “What is he talking about?”
“It’s a story,” I explain with a giggle.
“Aye,” Joseph continues enthusiastically. “Teronoch had been attacking the city Infaris lived in. To get rid of him, Infaris opened a portal to another world, one of shadows and constant storms, and forced the beast into it!”
“Uh, then yes, I guess foras drochta is a portal. Except we’re not going to any other realm. Just Gladfife.”
The reminder doesn’t dampen Joseph’s spirits at all. He nudges Drake, trying to get his twin to share in his excitement, but Drake pushes his arm away with a displeased grunt. He’s gone a bit pale and tense after hearing how we’ll be traveling.
“We’ll be ok, Drake,” I say helpfully. “The Halofain wouldn’t do anything to hurt us. He’s helping.”
Drake just grunts again and looks away. Nervousness doesn’t agree with him. I pat his arm while Torren, who’s caught on, is making a poor attempt at hiding her snickers.
“Big, bad Drake isn’t afraid of a little doorway magic, is he?” She clucks her tongue in mock sympathy. “Poor wittle human!”
“I’m not,” he snaps, but it just makes her laugh harder.
Before the two of them can get into it again, the Halofain holds up a hand for silence. Immediately, the throne room is so quiet that just breathing seems too noisy. The Halofain smiles.
“Many years has it been since I’ve had mortalkind in my court,” he says. “But I hope it will not be so long before it happens again. You have earned the trust of our sister, Torrenthalian, and so you have earned ours as well. Your journey is a noble one, but it will not be easy, and so I send you away with these. Do not think of them as gifts, but as tokens of our newfound friendship and markers of your place among the Kilkaraban court.”
The wall beside the throne seems to simply open up and a trio of red haired fae glide out. They are each holding something, and come to stand before me and my brothers.
Joseph is given a small book bound in deep red leather. There is a crest on its cover: a golden tree sprouting from a seed. His eyes are wide as he takes it. He opens it immediately and carefully flips through the first few pages, but they’re all blank. When he looks up uncertainly, he’s handed a quill pen, its feather dyed red to match the book, and a small, covered ink well.
“When you have the words for your story, young poet, you will be ready, and I will be waiting,” the Halofain says.
Joseph’s hands are shaking slightly as he clutches the book and bows deeply. No one’s ever given him a proper diary before. It’ll be the first time he’s able to write on something that isn’t leftover scraps of parchment. The gratitude and wonder shining in his eyes as he gazes down at it fills my heart.
When Drake is presented with his gift, he looks from it to the Halofain, obviously waiting for an explanation. I try to inch forward subtly, but can’t quite see around Joseph to get a clear glimpse of what he’s been given.
“For you, warrior son, a silver dove. A symbol of friendship. You carry a great weight in you. A responsibility to protect what you hold dear all by yourself. It is a heavy burden, but you bear it well. May this dove remind you, though, that you are never as alone as you might feel,” the Halofain inclines his head.
“Thank you,” Drake says, but I can hear that he’s still puzzled.
I have to admit that I am, too, when I finally get a look at the silver dove. It’s a small, delicately carved bird that looks tinier still sitting in the middle of Drake’s palm. It looks like something a lady might pin in her hair or on her bodice, not something you’d give a knight’s squire.
He closes his fingers over it all the same.
When it comes to be my turn, I am given a deep purple cloak, just as Torren said I would be. I curtsey in thanks, but the Halofain chuckles.
“This is merely a poor replacement for your shawl,” he says.
I don’t know what he means about poor. It’s beautifully woven and lined with white fur around the hood. It reminds me of the noblewomen I saw once, when they visited Moorsden for a winter festival. They looked like princesses.
The servant is still standing in front of me, waiting patiently, and I quickly drape the cloak over my arm so I can accept the item she’s offering to me.
It’s a glass vial, simple and as long as my forefinger, on a thin silver chain. Inside is a golden liquid that swirls slowly when I lift it.
“You don’t yet know what you are,” the Halofain says. “But you will. And when you do, this will guide you.”
“Thank you,” I murmur.
As with Drake, I don’t understand what he means or what the gift really is. I slip the chain over my head anyway and tuck it beneath my dress’ bodice. The vial feels warm against my chest.
“And to you, little sister,” the Halofain says, and Torren hastily faces him in surprise, one small first pressed to the center of her chest. “You alone remain of the Dhomnal court. May its name not be forgotten.”
“May its name not be forgotten,” the fae respond, and they all kiss the first two fingers of their right hand before touching them to their foreheads and placing them o
ver their hearts.
“Aye, Halofain,” Torren says somberly.
“I would offer you a place here, among your people. A court to call your own once more. A home.”
Indecision flickers across Torren’s face and her wings beat is irregular and quick.
“Never will I receive a more generous or gracious offer, Halofain,” she says, choosing her words carefully. “But my heart shall always dwell in the court of my parents, and their parents before them. I shall remain of Dhomnal until I ascend beyond the setting sun and am with my family once again.”
There’s a tense restlessness over the room. The fae are avoiding eye contact with Torren, their expressions ranging from shock to anger. If turning down gifts is considered rude, refusing a place in their court must be as bad as if she’d flown up to the Halofain and slapped him across his face.
The Halofain, however, only nods. He gazes down at her with a warm, knowing smile. “Then Torrenthalian of Dhomnal, your court yet remains, and I only ask that you count the Kilkaraban as your ally. You are welcome within these halls whenever you wish.”
“As you will be welcome in mine when I reclaim our lands,” Torren says.
The Halofain claps loudly once and his court is at attention. He stands. “We have kept you from your journey long enough. I believe the halomirs will have completed preparations. This is where I leave you, children of the high captain. May the road be kind to you in the days ahead.”
We’re crowded together and ushered quickly out of the hall. We don’t have a chance to thank the Halofain again or say goodbye. The guards take us through one of the doors off to the side of the throne and down a long hallway. Unlike the one leading to the throne room, this one is bare stone and the torches burn with normal firelight. The ground slopes gradually downward and the air becomes cooler. Our shuffling steps echo off the walls. The guards don’t look back or speak to us. They seem eager to have us gone.
I notice the smell first. Like smoke and the sharp, crackling scent of air right before lightning strikes. Drake clenches and unclenches his fists. He’s never cared for magic, even when he thought it was just the stuff of Joseph’s stories. He has trouble trusting in things he can’t see or touch. Although he’s going along with everything well enough so far, getting him to actually go through a portal might be difficult.