The Obsidian Arrow

by Craig A. Price Jr.

  His feelings became overwhelming. He relaxed his mind into a state of serenity. Lately, there had been mixed emotions clouding his judgment, which only seemed to get worse the closer he got to Anaela. He wished more than anything that she could see past her obligations as a kheshlar and give into the emotions he could see entangling in her mind. It had been foolish to assume as much, and he shouldn’t expect her to either. He had obligations he had set forth himself. He knew he shouldn’t be focusing all of his attention on her. They came to see the faeries to create an alliance to fight the draeyks and daerions, who would inevitably flood into Sudegam. Not to mention the force of nacropi being formed by a team of necromancers. At least that was what Andron had claimed. He trusted Andron’s words, as the human warrior had saved him more than a few times.

  Anaela sat next to him, letting her smooth feet fall into the cool water. She smiled at him before waving her feet back and forth. He noticed her dark green toenail polish glitter in the clear water. His focus strayed as he took in her beauty and innocence. She wore a frayed green linen dress with snowflake lace that clung tight to her petite figure. Her hair fell straight to her shoulders, where it came up in one large curl on each side of her shoulder. It was one of the most beautiful hairstyles Searon had ever seen.

  Anaela shifted, blushing slightly before glancing away into the mist arising from the river. Searon’s gaze didn’t shift, however, as he continued to admire her beauty from head to toe. The ocean wasn’t too far away, but they weren’t on the beach. Faeries loved the beach, but they wouldn’t live on it. Instead, they lived in the trees, bushes, and hills surrounding the beach. Most humans would only see the faeries as dragonflies, butterflies, and other exotic winged bugs flying gracefully through the sky. At night some faeries appeared as fireflies to the untrained eye. It was a glamour the faerie magic presented as a front to prevent themselves from being found. Searon was able to see past the glamour only because of the small mix of faerie blood inside of him.

  Searon froze as something soft grazed his left foot. His thoughts shattered when he noticed Anaela’s foot against him. She tensed, frozen, as shivers traveled along her bare arms. Her eyes met him. She withdrew her foot from his, but he wasn’t easily dismissed. Searon pushed his foot forward to meet with hers once again. He noticed as she shivered even more. Her eyes closed as her hands clenched at their static touch. Electricity seemed to trickle between the two. He stroked the top of his foot against the bottom of hers for several long minutes without her flinching. Warmth replaced the chill inside of his heart. A hidden smile tried to make itself known on his face.

  Suddenly she flinched, jerking her foot away. Her eyes opened as she quickly shifted her feet. He watched her intensely as she glared at him in what seemed like cold anger. Her lips pursed. He knew it wasn’t anger, but rather frustration at the situation. Her face may have shown anger, but her eyes gave her clouded emotions away. He wished she would display the passion hidden deep within her eyes.

  “Stop,” she whispered.

  She turned to leave, and Searon stood, grabbing her arm. He held her tightly so she couldn’t escape. She spun to glare at him. Her forest-green eyes penetrated into his with such reluctant passion that his knees felt like butter. For many long moments, the two stared at each other without daring to move a breadth.

  “Anaela … please.”

  She blinked. “Don’t.” She shoved his hand from her arm, storming away.

  “Bloody fool,” Searon cursed himself as he smashed his fist into his forehead.

  He always seemed to be at a loss for words when around her. The worst part was knowing she felt the same as he. Most of the time, he was unable to read women’s emotions, but he was sure of hers. Or at least, he desperately hoped he was sure about her emotions. Perhaps she didn’t feel the same way as he did. Maybe he wasted his time with her. The breakfast in the morning could have been only to thank him for taking the floor, and for being there to listen. He was a bloody fool to think it meant any more.

  She didn’t need to be involved with the likes of him anyways … As she said, he was a mere human, while she was a goddess: an immortal kheshlar. The likes of him couldn’t even compare to her fairness. She was the last known of her kind, a rarity, and something like him could not be worthy of her love. He knew this, but it didn’t stop his heart from wanting what it couldn’t have. The problem was, even if he could have her, he would still want her. It wasn’t the fact that she was untouchable, it was her. Ever since the first moment he had seen her, his world began to swirl out of focus. Before he awoke to see her for the first time, his mind had been so wrapped up in revenge that he had been blinded to the finer aspects of life. He was set on a course of revenge. All he could focus on was the death of his wife and son. Truth be told, that memory began to fade when he met Anaela, and not in a bad way. The bad night of terror that used to haunt his dreams each night was replaced with happy memories of Victoria and Kellen and their life together.

  Whether Anaela felt the same about him or not, he knew he needed to get over himself and look toward the larger picture. Focusing was hard when she stayed on his mind. He needed to give her a rest and focus on the present, rather than on what he hoped could be accomplished in the future. Perhaps a way could be found for the two of them, but for the moment, he needed to focus on convincing the faeries to join their alliance. The problem was, he wasn’t sure how. There was nothing he could offer them that they would desire.

  He pondered that as he put a pair of leather boots on and left the river behind. Walking in silence, besides his thoughts, he made his way into the faerie town. Dozens of faeries, either with two large wings or four smaller ones, hovered around him in every direction. He felt at a handicap surrounded by so many faeries. Not only did they have magic while he did not, but they also had the ability to fly. He was stuck to their size without either, and somehow he had to convince them his game was a just one … and a fun one.

  Searon sat next to Anaela at the oval table inside a small room, listening to the faeries chatter. They sat at one end of the oval, where the faeries could observe them cautiously. However, instead of the faeries asking them questions about why they had come, they talked amongst themselves. Some played games with their hands, singing songs, while others created sparks of magic to electrocute each other playfully. They threw various objects around the room at each other, a few pieces of colorful leaves crashed into Searon’s forehead more than a few times. He refused to flinch or move a muscle. Instead, he waited patiently for the meeting to begin.

  He wasn’t accustomed to the faeries’ way of life, and so he was not sure if the playful manner was their way of beginning serious discussions. With all the aspects of war balancing inside of his head, there didn’t seem to be any room left for play. There had to be a way to get these faeries involved in the action, but they seemed content to ignore his presence. A glowing sphere of yellow light shot his way in the blink of an eye. Without knowing how to react, or if he could defend against it, he reached out to catch it with his ungloved hand. It glittered profoundly with a series of flickers every few seconds, as if trying to escape his grasp. At first it angered him to have magic thrown at him, but a laugh eased his frustration.

  He turned to his left and saw Anaela giggling, covering her mouth. When she noticed him studying her, she turned away, blushing. All of his anger disappeared to be replaced with happiness. Instead of getting frustrated at the magical act, he balanced the sphere of magic in his hands before tossing it toward a faerie. Instead of catching it as he had, the magic collided with the blue haired faerie, shocking her. Bewildered, he glanced around to find everyone as surprised as he.

  A pink light appeared in the already colorful room of blues, greens, and yellows. All the other colors appeared dim compared to the flawless bright pink light. The faerie who stepped through the light wore no clothing. Green vines spider-webbed over her flesh, covering her body from lustful eyes. Her lavender-and-pink sparkling wings shimme
red with blues and greens, reflecting the faeries who surrounded her. Only one word described this mother faerie: divine.

  “Mother,” Searon whispered as he bowed his head in respect.

  Even he felt enthralled, willing to do her bidding. He clenched his fist—feeling his nails dig into his flesh in order to keep himself in control. Next to him, he saw Anaela averting her eyes from the mother faerie; it almost seemed as if she observed him from the corner of her eye. He felt bad somehow, for glancing upon the mother faerie’s perfectly shaped body in Anaela’s presence. As if by doing so, it would somehow disrespect the wood kheshlar.

  “Let the games begin,” the mother faerie whispered in a voice as sweet as honeysuckles.

  An actual game didn’t follow, but rather a feast with conversation and laughter. Bright exotic foods were passed around. None appealed to Searon. He didn’t find many bright green, blue, or yellow foods tempting. However, he recognized squash, and he piled some on a plate. He tried a few spoonfuls of an odd-colored mush, which appeared like mashed potatoes, except bright blue or green. The flavors tasted exotic and sweet, almost too sweet for his taste. He found it one of the rare times he wished he had salt to dim the sweetness.

  Anaela appeared to enjoy her food, as she should, without a spot of meat on any of the plates. The lack of protein concerned Searon more than the strange colors. Without any meat or salty taste, the sweets only seemed like dessert. It did not bode well for Searon to survive off only sweet vanilla cake. He stuck to his squash, which still seemed sweeter than normal, as if it were drenched in honey, but at least it wasn’t as sweet as the mush.

  When the mother faerie finished her meal and noticed Searon had done the same, she turned to him with a smile. “So what game is it that you would like us to play?”

  Searon pondered for a moment, stroking his chin. “Have you ever heard of Crossguards?

  She laughed, smiling broadly. “There are too many rules and tactics for us humble faeries to get involved with a strategic game like that.”

  “I don’t plan on playing by the rules, nor do I plan on playing with simple wood pieces. This game is going to be much more fun than that, much more real.”

  “You’re not planning on starting a war with us, are you?” she asked.

  “There is no war to start, it is already at our doorstep. All I want to do is even the odds.”

  “By breaking the rules?”

  “Exactly. I already know you don’t care for following the rules, no faerie does. I’m not asking for you to be a standing pikeman or swordsman in the middle of a board of Crossguards, rolling the dice for a chance of life.”

  “What is it that you are asking?”

  “To be those pesky blood flies on a battlefield who blind you from the slash of a sword, but you can never seem to swat away. There are no rules to this game, only fun.”

  “I give you credit, Lord Searon, for intelligence of who you speak with. You know your audience well. Such a feat would be entertainment to us; however, you forget one thing.”

  “What is that, Mother?”

  “Our price is not as simple as that.”

  “What is your price? Surely it’s not gold, for you have no use of such things.”

  “It is not,” she whispered. “But until you can figure out what it is we would desire … I’m afraid we cannot join this game of yours.”

  “I see.” Searon pondered. “Tell me then, Mother, is there any help you can give for our quest?”

  “Let me see your weapons.”

  Searon furrowed his brow, but unsheathed his claymore nonetheless, placing it on the oval table. Anaela peered at him with squinted eyes, but when he nodded, she placed her bow and quiver next to his weapon. The mother faerie stood, flapping her four glittering translucent wings. They seemed to flutter as fast as a hummingbird when she hovered over their weapons. She gently touched his claymore before quickly withdrawing her hand as steam appeared.

  “You claim not to hold magic, Searon, yet your sword pulses with it. It has been enchanted with a strong magic.”

  “My brother forged it for me.”

  “His skill is chaotic. Once he develops his skill with magic, allow him to strengthen the magical bonds on it—only the one who originally enchanted it can change the magical effects.” She turned to him with her cold pink eyes staring deep into his. “I’m also aware of the faerie magic you held in your hand before you deflected it to another faerie.”

  “What of it?”

  “In order to freeze magic, it takes magic—magic of a rare kind, Lord Searon. You may not have creation magic, but you have another sort, prevention magic.”

  “Magic has been used on me before. I have been frozen into a solid wall of ice.”

  “Yes … but were you trying to stop it, as you did this sphere of light?”

  “No … I was unaware the ice was coming.”

  “There lies the difference. If you can open your senses to feel magic heading your way, you will be able to prevent it, and not only that, but harness what comes at you, redirecting it in another direction. So even if you cannot create it, you can manipulate what is already there.”

  Searon stared, dumbfounded, at his hands. He lowered his head, rubbing his eyes.

  “Is this help satisfactory to you, Lord Searon?”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  The mother faerie lifted Anaela’s bow, inspecting it carefully. “The craftsmanship of this bow is flawless. Are you its creator?”

  “I do not know, Mother. My memory fails me.”

  “Ah, yes … I can sense it. A wood kheshlar lost amongst the high. You desperately seek for answers of your kin. Whether they’re still alive, and even worse, if they are, why they haven’t come for you.”

  Anaela dipped her head. “It’s hard sometimes.”

  “I never said it was easy.” The mother paused. “What element do you favor?”

  “Element?”

  “Fire, ice, or poison?”

  Anaela’s eyes lit up. “Ice.”

  A pink vapor seeped from the mother faerie’s hands, absorbing into the arrows in Anaela’s quiver. Each arrow shook in turn before all of them became still. She smiled. “You favor the obsidian arrow?”

  “Yes … only obsidian arrows were in my quiver when I came to, and so ever since, I have sharpened my own obsidian glass for my arrows.”

  “Never again will you need to sharpen arrows, for your quiver will never grow lighter, and each arrow will be cold as ice in your enemy’s flesh.”

  Anaela’s jaw dropped, yet nothing came out for several minutes. “Thank you,” she finally said.

  “If this is all you require for now, Searon, then I call this council to a close. Rest well tonight as you think of what you can trade us to play your game.”

  “Thank you, Mother.” Searon bowed his head. “May the gods in the sky smile upon you tonight for your hospitality.”

  The mother faerie bowed before leaving the room with each faerie following her one by one in turn. Searon sat for a few more minutes with Anaela by his side before rising to his feet. He held his hand out for Anaela to take. She smiled as she got to her feet.

  Her frowned as he regarded her. “Do you know what it is they want?”

  “No … it is a riddle for them, part of their game.”

  “We do not have time to play games. An army approaches Sudegam as we speak.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  Without another word, Searon turned from her, heading for the door. He didn’t know what they were to do if he could not dissect the riddle. Above all else, what did faeries desire? Nothing came to mind, and so he stalked from the council room into the forest to clear his thoughts.

  Chapter 43

  A calming breeze brushed against Arria’s hair, making it flutter behind her head. She stood at the edge of the forest, staring blankly toward the long white-sand beach, watching the ocean. Too many years had passed since she’d seen the beautiful shimmering water. Seagull
s soared across the sky, many croaking, and a few diving toward the sand to find a crab or fish. The sound of waves crashing against the open beach echoed in her ears; she was half tempted to rush out and meet the waves.

  Arria wondered if any other lands resided across the vast ocean. She wondered if they held as much beauty as the one she stood on. A part of her always wanted to travel across the seas to find more life, but something always held her back. It could have been comfort, or perhaps leaving her sister behind kept her in the land of Calthoria. She wanted to show the power of magic to Starlyn and have her sister by her side. Starlyn was nearly as hardheaded as Arria though, and she knew the likelihood of accomplishing it would be slim. There were so many things Arria wished to show her sister.

  Arria still wondered where she had gone wrong in the previous war. The victory had nearly been in her grasp. With only a few more moments, she could have saved their mother, but she had been too late, and Starlyn too quick. Starlyn was the one who stopped her that day. Arria tasted victory too soon; it had been bitterly sweet, until her sister stopped her.

  She cleared her head before stepping out of the forest into the soft sand. Her hand reached her bosom, unlacing the plate mail clinging to her body. It fell to the ground in a ringing clatter, followed by her lower armor and boots, until she stood bare against the ocean breeze. Her soft black skin, flawless at every curve, glistened in the sunlight. Nobody was around and she felt the need to breathe. She had gone a long time without exposing herself to let her body breathe in the way it was meant to. It was hard remembering the last time she’d had a bath, and she knew she wouldn’t have an opportunity again for a long time. A battle approached, and there were many things she still had to do.

  When the water first touched her skin, she shivered, not realizing it would be so cold. She walked forward until her entire bosom fell underneath water before she began rubbing her body to take off the crusts of filth. Her body may have looked perfect, but she knew it had been weeks of sweat and blood since she had last cleansed herself. The salty water surrounding her body made her feel relaxed. She swam for a while on her back before she felt well and clean.