Resistance

by Allana Kephart

  Unbeknownst to him, I had already been traveling these parts for quite some time by that point. The few animals I’ve run across have been rather docile and curious, and I’ve never seen any of those ‘wild humans’. Rumors of a rebellion run wild amongst Khan and his halfwit friends, but I don’t believe in their versions of the story. They like to believe the rebellions are a bunch of humans who band together and burn flags and yell into the sky while they try to figure out how to read. If that were the case, someone would have complained about the noise by now and it would have been removed. Right now the Courts are in denial, and I think that’s a mistake.

  I see the claw marks of the wolf I visit nightly — I call him Ralph — deeply embedded on a tree trunk and know I’ve found my usual resting place. Taking a breath, I pull my nightdress up and settle on the soft lawn; waiting for my friend to arrive for his late night snack.

  Ralph is magnificent. He is large for his breed with a huge head and thick, white fur covering his entire body, with only a few brown wisps here and there. I first met him here, in this spot, when he was passing through with a few others — two grown females, a smaller male and two pups. It was the dead of winter, shortly after another punishment I’d received due to my brothers’ concealment of the truth, and I’d needed time alone. I had been resting against the very tree I lean against now; letting silent tears fall from my eyes as I breathed in the crispness of my element. When the wolves showed themselves, most just sniffed in my direction before deciding I was harmless and continuing on, but Ralph and the pups seemed fascinated. I brushed it off —after all, many animals are curious about the Fae — patted the small black pup on the head, and continued to feel sorry for myself.

  The next evening, Ralph was sitting alone by the tree where I’d first seen him. He approached me like a lost friend and sat there patiently while I cried out of despair from my horrible life, and we’d been meeting there ever since. I only started sneaking him food a few days ago, when my father was paying me no mind. Tonight I have scraps of lamb, a favorite of Ralph’s and the bane of my existence. I tug the folded napkin from my undergarment and unwrap the meat as I look around for any sign of fur. It’s nearly two a.m. now. He’s late.

  I shouldn’t be so offended that a wild animal skipped out on our dinner date, but there is a part of me that is hurt and worried. I shake off my feelings and set the cloth with meat beside the tree. I can’t wait forever, after all, or I might be crawling in the window for the nightly three a.m. bedroom check and have my fingers removed…or something equally displeasing. As I’m rising from the cooled ground, I hear leaves crunching and twigs snapping behind me. My brow furrows and I look toward the sound. “Hello?”

  The sounds stop for a moment and I wonder if it’s Ralph. He’s never stomped around like a cow before, but perhaps he’s hurt. I take a few steps closer. “Ralphie? Hello?”

  Silence greets me. I rest my hand on the bark of a tree and lean further into the shadows. “Who’s there?” I call, a little louder now. My wolf would have made a whine by now, and I won’t deny I’m getting frightened. “Show yourself!” I demand; hoping the authority in my voice will scare off a weak-willed animal. Surely it can’t be anyone who understands what I’m saying.

  The shape of a man becomes evident and I eat my words and scramble backwards in shock. A guard, maybe? My heart pounds in my chest at the thought. Dear God, what will Father do to me? Have my head, no doubt. In his eyes, getting caught sneaking out for a second time warrants public humiliation; execution. My stomach churns in my gut when the man steps forward…only…he’s no one I’ve ever seen.

  The man is tall, around six feet-one inch, and heavily built, with wide shoulders and thick limbs rippling with overworked muscles. Reddish brown hair is cut short on his head, and blue eyes that hold nothing but malice glare into my navy ones. His mouth, framed by deep lines that indicate he scowls frequently, curls into a wicked smirk as he takes in my size. I’m a good foot shorter and only weigh in at a measly one hundred-ten pounds. He could squish me with his baby toe.

  “Hello,” I start quietly. I straighten and push my blonde hair out of my face, trying to concoct an escape plan. He stinks of iron and blood and grime. A human. “Are you lost?”

  He doesn’t reply for a long time, just stands there and observes me. Perhaps I am wrong to assume he has malevolent intent. If he wasn’t so large, I’d look for a branding somewhere. For all I know, he’s just wandered off from someone’s property and honestly doesn’t understand what I’m saying. Some Fae don’t even teach their humans to speak — I don’t exactly find that fair, practical or kind.

  He’s still staring at me. I open my mouth to ask to see his brand when he finally responds. “Oh, no,” he breathes. “I’m exactly where I need to be.”

  He lumbers toward me and I feel panic rise in my throat. “D-Do I know you?” I stutter; feeling my heart rapidly pounding against my ribcage. My parents wouldn’t send a human after me — they consider them too stupid to clean the floor properly, let alone retrieve a princess. I had always believed in the rebellions, but now that the possibility is staring me right in the face my mind is screaming this can’t be possible. When he continues in my direction, I muster every ounce of courage and demand, “Stand down.”

  He laughs; a small, wicked sound and I freeze. The look in his eyes is purely animalistic. “Don’t make this hard on yourself, faery bitch.” Within a moment his hand drops to his hip and returns with a long iron blade. The smell invades my personal space and I gasp at the stench; feeling a terrified cold settle in my bones. “I’ll be quick. You’ll barely feel a thing.”

  My feet slam against the ground as I try to run without even making the conscious decision to do so, but his giant hand comes snapping down; grabbing a fistful of my long hair and yanking me back in front of him. He’s unimpressed with my escape tactics and I open my mouth to scream, but it chokes off mid-gasp when I see the iron blade being flipped around in position to enter my chest. I reach up and wrap my small hands around his beefy wrist; using every muscle I have to keep the weapon away from me.

  Shock takes over his facial expression and he growls and shakes me by my hair. He wasn’t expecting me to fight back, and he definitely didn’t expect I’d be able to stop him for any length of time. I can feel the iron getting to me, though, even without it on my skin, and he can tell. He smirks at me. “Come on, girl, just let it go.” The knife takes on a new angle, and if my arms give out it will go straight through my throat. “You know this is pointless. You know I’ll win,” he hisses at me and starts to push. I feel the tip of the knife getting closer to my jugular and I know I’m about to lose my footing when—

  “Sean!” a Scottish-accented voice yells.

  The sound startles him enough into turning, and he drops my hair in the process. I don’t even look up at the Scot’s voice, rather I take the opportunity to grab the weapon from his hands. The iron burns my palm and I cry out as the oaf turns. He reaches for me and I automatically swing; feeling a slight resistance before I stumble and land flat on my butt. The man lets out a wounded sound and I look up to see blood on his face. The cut is jagged; trailing from the outside of his eye to just beside his lip, looking almost like a tear. His eyes light with anger and he grabs the blade I dropped during my fall, but before he can stab me to death, another figure is between us.

  “Are you fucking crazy?” the shorter man yells, his arms raised defensively. He has a completely different air about him than the man who attacked me; a kindness in his voice I find comforting.

  “She came at me!” Sean insists. I try to work out a disagreement but the world is spinning. I’ve only been in such close proximity to iron once, and it’s worn me down to the point of exhaustion.

  The Scotsman looks at me and I feel my eyes widen. Even in my semi-drugged state I can tell he’s like me — a faery. His hair is a bit longer than my attacker’s, and a few auburn strands fall onto his face. His eyes are hazel and bright, and he almo
st looks concerned about my well-being. I’m almost too stunned to notice the mercy in his eyes. Why in the hell would one of the Fae be with such a man? “Yeah,” he says after a moment. “She looks like a real savage.”

  “I don’t have to explain myself to you, faery,” my attacker, Sean snipes; a sneer on his face.

  “Flint?” A strong, feminine voice sounds from where Sean came from and I turn my head to see her. She’s small, only a few inches taller than me, and the Scotsman is instantly caught up in her presence. His jaw tightens and I wonder if he’s okay with how infatuated with her he is. “What the hell happened?” the dark-haired girl asks; staring at the wound on Sean’s face with mild irritation.

  “She tried to kill me,” Sean says defiantly, and I hear the other man, Flint, scoff. “I told you we should’ve just chopped her. She’s vicious!”

  “No,” I manage, but the only one listening is the dark-haired girl. She’s looking at me with caution and slight disgust, but I still see a hint of the same pity I saw in Flint’s gaze.

  “Just because you can’t cover your own ass—” Flint starts, tearing his gaze away from the girl to scowl at him.

  “Shut up! Just shut your fucking mouth!” Sean screams, getting in Flint’s face. The shorter man doesn’t even flinch, and I swear I hear him chuckle. “You shouldn’t even be here!”

  “Enough!” the dark-haired girl yells, cutting off whatever Flint was about to retort. “You’re only drawing attention to us.”

  “None of this would be happening if you’d shot this fucker on sight, Fianna,” Sean says, gesturing to Flint.

  Flint snorts. “You’d be dead by daybreak if she did,” he says. “Your plan was suicide.”

  “I swear to God—”

  “What did I just say?” the girl, Fianna, hisses. “Sean, take a walk. Flint, help me with the girl. We have to go.”

  Sean’s face goes purple in fury when Fianna doesn’t side with him. “Fi—” he begins, and she stares him down. Flint still hasn’t moved, and I can tell from his body position he isn’t scared of the man at all. This only seems to piss Sean off further, and he lets out a groan and turns away; throwing his hands out in frustration. Fianna turns her glare to Flint. “What happened?” she repeats.

  He just shrugs. “Sean had her by the hair with a knife on her when I showed up. She got him in the face and then fell.” He sticks his hands in his pockets and turns to me again, watching me with mild curiosity. “She seems harmless, Fi,” he says, studying me like a fine artifact. I squirm and move my eyes between the two. The effects of the iron aren’t dissipating as much as I’d like them to, what with Fianna’s armor on. The faery is unarmed from what I can tell, and I have to wonder how he’s still upright in the presence of these people.

  “We’ll see,” Fianna retorts, her lips curling down. The faery’s eyes break from mine and I see he’s watching her again, totally enamored. He opens his mouth to say something and quickly shuts it; looking heavenward, as if annoyed by his own thoughts. Fianna, oblivious to his interest, stretches her neck and sighs. “We better get going.”

  Flint watches her pull a vial from her pocket and I tense. I dig my nails into the dirt under my hand and try my damnedest to pull myself up and away. It doesn’t matter that the man is one of my own. He is conversing with humans — with intelligent, armed humans — and I am simply a means to an end. My movement almost causes an irritated flame to rise in Fianna’s eyes, and she comes to kneel in front of me.

  “Fi—” Flint says, stepping behind her, but she’s not listening. She places a hand under my chin, her index finger digs into the joint where my jaw meets my skull, and then she forces my mouth open. She pours a concoction onto my tongue and I gag; eucalyptus and herbs overpowering my senses. I yank away from her and cough; turning my face away as I feel tears in my eyes, which makes it hard to see. I don’t know what she slipped me, but I can already feel the world getting foggy around the edges. I vaguely wonder if I’ll ever witness another snowfall.

  “I’m sorry,” Fianna says with an almost regretful look before she stands, and Flint replaces her as she walks away, surely to find the other man. I feel Flint’s hands on me, rolling me onto my back, and I somehow breathe out, “Don’t kill me…”

  Flint looks personally offended and shakes his head. I see his lips moving but I’m too tired to comprehend the words he’s saying. His eyes soften and he slides his arms under me as he rises; holding me to his chest. I feel him breathing as my head lulls into his chest, and as he starts to walk away from the scene the darkness swallows me.

  Chapter 15—Eirnin

  July 2102

  It’s a cloudless spring day and I hear the birds chirping while a slight, sweet smelling breeze rustles through the trees. I see a cream-colored house so huge it has to be considered a mansion, with trees and gardens all around. The estate is huge and well cared for by workers I’ve yet to see out and about. I’ve had this dream before and I feel excitement gather in my stomach at the knowledge of what comes next. I hear raised voices from inside the house and then a door slams and she’s running; long, white-blonde hair flying behind her like a flag waving in the breeze. There is an old book clutched in her hand as she seeks solace amongst a grouping of artistically placed shrubs a slight distance away from the house. Her bare feet make no sound as they pound against the ground, and I’m struck by the picture she presents.

  She is slight in stature, shorter even than Fi is, but she dominates the scene whenever I dream of her. Her blue dress is simple and falls to just above her knees, not overly girlish in its slight frilliness. Her features are fine and almost doll-like in their perfection, and her skin is an alabaster backdrop to the midnight blue pools of her eyes. Beautiful isn’t a strong enough word to describe her, in my opinion. Even when she’s sitting as she is now, in the dirt with her knees drawn to her chest, she is breathtaking to me. Her head rests on her knees as tears slide down her face, and her pain lances through me. These dreams jumble my emotions in such a huge way. I hate seeing her sadness, but can get drunk from just looking at her face.

  This little slip of a girl has me completely captivated and I don’t even know her name. She sniffles and something in my chest constricts as her shoulders shake with sobs. I can feel the desperate need for escape, acceptance and love coming off her in waves, and wish as I have each time I’ve had this dream that I could take the loneliness away from her. I promise myself that I will find her and bring her someplace where she can find all she’s yearning for. I’m beginning to think that this girl, whoever she is, will play a part in whatever I am supposed to accomplish with the gifts I’ve been given. There will be some kind of connection between the two of us; that much I know for sure. I feel it already.

  She sets her book down in the dirt, hides her face in her hands and makes an angry noise in her throat. She uses her hands to dash the tears from her face, looks off into the distance, and her desire to be anywhere but there comes through loud and clear. Her dark blue eyes are fierce; still shimmering with tears as she drags her bottom lip between her teeth and looks over her shoulder at the magnificent house she’s never felt at home in. I wish I could tell her it will all be okay soon. I don’t know how I know this, but I do. She won’t be stuck there forever.

  I wake up with excess energy thrumming through my veins – a combination of the girl from the dream and knowing my sister will be back tonight. I lie on the bottom bunk in Aodhan’s bedroom and let myself dwell on the beautiful, sad girl from my dream. I began dreaming about her over a year ago; nothing earth-shattering, just seemingly random snapshots into her life. I believe she may be living at one of the Fae Courts right now. It’s just a feeling I get when I try to probe my mind for answers to the puzzle of her appearance in my dreams. I wish for the hundredth time that I had some way of knowing when I’ll finally meet her. Sadly, my gift doesn’t work that way. I’m not the most patient person on the planet, and each of these dreams feels like someone is taunting me with the endl
ess possibilities.

  My musings are interrupted when my cousin Neall knocks on the door and pops his head inside. “Eir, Aodhan — Momma says it’s time to wake up and have breakfast now.” His cherubic face splits into a grin when he sees me lying there with my eyes open, and I motion him over. He giggles and launches himself into the bed, landing with a hard thump on my ribs. I let out an exaggerated breath when he lands and pretend that he knocked the wind out of me; groaning loudly.

  “You’re getting too big to do that, buddy. One of these days we’re gonna knock A’s bed down,” I tell him, and grin at the happiness on his face at being called ‘too big’ for something. As the youngest of my cousins, I’m sure he gets tired of being treated like a baby by everyone. I ruffle his hair. “Go tell your mom we’ll be right out, ’kay?” He runs off bellowing my message. I chuckle and roll out of the bed and to my feet. I look at the top bunk and see my cousin lying on his back with an arm thrown over his head, his face covered by his pillow. Did I mention I snore sometimes?

  I’m just about to poke Aodhan in the ribs when I hear, from under his pillow, “Dude, if you touch me I’ll break your fingers.” I bite my tongue to hold in a chuckle. I forget sometimes how well he knows me.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man. Time to get up — I smell pancakes,” I tell him, and pull a tee shirt over my head before pulling his door open to go join the rest of the family for breakfast. I hear him mutter, “Liar,” as I pull the door shut behind me and laugh.

  I’m still hyped up after breakfast, maybe even more than I was when I woke up. I’m not surprised though, since I drank three cups of coffee and inhaled a tall stack of my aunt’s pancakes and bacon for breakfast. Now I just have to fill the hours between now and when Fi comes back without driving myself or anyone else insane. I know when she returns, everything will change for me. I don’t know if that will be good or bad, but part of me is looking forward to the challenge. I amuse myself for a few hours by playing a dozen or so games of Go Fish with Neall after helping my aunt clean up the breakfast mess. He beat me soundly in more than half of the games, and has now perfected his gloating face. He won’t listen to my excuse that I don’t play this game nearly as often as he does. Apparently that’s not a valid reason to suck in his eyes.