Evenstars of Aeweniel

by Willow Sova

  If I play to win, then this is what I must do.

  Then tilting her hip to kiss her pale buttock, he espied the faeries dragging his dagger within reach and a large lily—a Cunny Tickler. At first, the sight of the flower perplexed him. But once he heard their faint snickering as they marched it toward her fleshy gap, Thalion could have burst into laughter were it not for his dire circumstances.

  With a hand to each knee, he pried her legs wide open, allowing Orin and Oriel to thrust the Cunny Tickler into her sex. Medlinya squealed, bucked, and writhed like a snared wildling. Her sword clanked as it tumbled to the ground, and Thalion picked up his dagger and prowled over her. “My Princess, has your lowly elfling yet coaxed the nectar from your walls?” he asked, rocking his hips to conceal his treachery.

  “Oh yes… yes… mmm… yes!” The princess seized his buttocks with icy hands, nails keen as razors in his flesh. She steadied herself, glared at the elf, and yanked him downward by his hair. “Don’t you forget: Your place is between my thighs and to do my bidding, not the wretched half-blood’s!”

  At those words, the faeries plunged the lily to the hilt of her cunt, sending her gyrating once more. Her raptorial grip on the elf weakened until her arms fell away, and her hips and limbs grew sluggish. Delirium was finally setting in.

  The scales are now balanced in my favor! She’s powerless!

  “Enjoying the waves of euphoria, my Princess?”

  “Oh yes, yes!” she squealed with head teetering.

  Thalion raised the sap-laced dagger, its cool steel glinting blue-pewter in the moonlight. “Then ride on!” He drove the blade into her heart. She twitched and flailed as the steel sank in and ravaged her blood with the poison. And as her breathing tapered off to a hush, and she released her last breath, he said, “Though wicked as you are, you don’t deserve such bliss.” Rivulets of red flowed from the wound and wept onto the mossed chaise. Her eyes froze open, and her head lay languid, cocked to one side. Medlinya fell limp.

  Hunched over her lifeless form, the elf bore his weight on the dagger and tried to recover the energy her cruel game had cost him. A crack of lightning pierced his ears, and the ground rumbled and quaked as Gwaewon’s roots slithered around her deathbed, spurring Mystic to squeal and roar, rear up, and bolt off. Thalion then leapt off the lounge, rushed toward Sparrow, and freed her from the cage of vines. And the forest floor fissured beneath Medlinya, swallowing her up, body and stone.

  They stood in shock, enveloped in each other’s arms, and watched while Gwaewon groaned and hissed as it consumed the princess, and the turbulence of her burial place eventually faded into whisperings of whirling leaves. Thalion then embraced Sparrow with such enthusiasm he made her gasp.

  “Oh, thank heavens you’re safe. Please forgive me.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “I promised I’d never let anyone hurt you again but failed you miserably,” he replied, voice anguished, and then tore away from her.

  “This wasn’t your doing,” she reassured him. When she shivered in his arms, he realized they were both still naked. One wish and they were clothed once again: Thalion in his sage doublet, black trousers and boots; and Sparrow in a cornflower blue velvet gown with silver floret trim and buttons, and grey lace slippers for her dainty feet.

  “If I hadn’t persuaded you to stay, all of this would never have happened. We can leave Aeweniel and find our way home again, wherever you desire, so long as you’re safe from harm.”

  “I am home, Thalion, as long as I’m with you. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been since being with you.”

  “Sparrow, my feelings for you are beyond words,” he whispered. The elf swept her dark tendrils behind those softly pointed ears and looked into her eyes. There, traces of tears lingered. “I love you,… more than you’ll ever realize.” Thalion cupped her flushed cheeks and leaned in, suckling her pink lips before parting them with his tongue. She moaned as their tongues swirled, enjoying his thoughtful strokes. After a while, she pulled away.

  “And I love you. Though I resisted saying so to guard my heart. But that part is now yours to keep.” She took his hand and placed it above the slope of her left breast. Hearing her declaration gave Thalion wings, lifting him beyond his physical form, farther up than the angels. How he had longed to hear her say those words. As her heart pattered beneath his palm, he admired the lively copper flecks in her eyes ignited by the torchlights. For a time, these sensations brought him back to his earthly self… and a calmness lulled over him.

  Then all the serene beauty of that moment was lost when a droplet of blood wept down her forehead. The thudding against his palm faded into whispers, and the rose of her lips and cheeks waned. Clouds of grey guttered out the sparkling amber of her eyes, and she collapsed in Thalion’s arms.

  “No!” The elf dropped to his knees to catch her fall. “This can’t be happening!” Aranhil rushed toward them with Oriel and Orin in tow. “Don’t leave me, Sparrow! Please, don’t leave me!” He embraced her hard, and the collar of his sage doublet wicked away the blood dripping from her hairline.

  “We must take her to Saeldur at once!” Turning to the faeries as they hovered over his shoulder, Aranhil commanded, “Fly to Saeldur’s as fast as you can. Let him know what transpired here. We’ll arrive soon after you.” On that last word, trails of green light blurred behind Oriel and Orin as they flew off.

  “I fear it’s too late. Medlinya destroyed the vial with the antidote, and the walk is too far in time to save her.” The elf held her waxen cheek and swept his thumb over her livid lips, his chest flaring with pain. For what seemed forever, his heart ceased beating.

  “You’re not thinking clearly! I’ll shift into my dragon and fly you both to his cavern. Time is dwindling, but there’s still hope so long as she’s alive.” Before he could respond, Aranhil shifted and then lowered his titian-scaled beast to the ground. Thalion staggered to his feet. He laid her on top and then mounted the dragon. After securing one arm around Sparrow, he balanced himself with the other.

  In a twinkling, the creature ascended high into the indigo sky and rushed past the glistering stars with such celerity, they all appeared to have dusty tails like comets, their white plumes lingering in the deepening blue. But Thalion was focused on Sparrow. She was his only concern. And his worry was now growing, as the spirited dance of her raven hair whisking in the wind seemed the sole fluttering of life within her.

  “Stay with me, my sweet Sparrow,” he said after kissing her, his voice frail and broken. “Please, my love, stay with me.”

  CHAPTER 20

  FADING STARS

  As soon as the beast landed, Thalion slid down the sleek scales of its withers with Sparrow in his arms and ran toward the cavern’s entrance where Saeldur was standing. Accompanying the healer were Limwen, Oriel, and Orin perched on the horns of a gargoyle sprouting from the black limestone bluff. Before entering, he turned to his brother, who was now in his elven form and shuffling toward him with shoulders slumped. The flight had depleted him, but his wilted lids could not conceal the melancholy in his grey eyes.

  “Thank you for everything you’ve done tonight,” he said, eager to tend to the girl.

  “I know you would’ve done the same for me.” Aranhil passed a fleeting glance over her pale face before his eyes flitted away toward the shadowy forest.

  Thalion suspected memories of Evelyn were worming their way into his heart and wished to spare him from the burden of the night ahead, one hinging on the uncertainty of Sparrow’s fate. So he told him, “I must go, but please get some sleep. I worry for you,” and then dashed through the cavern opening. Saeldur and Limwen followed behind him.

  But fatigued as he was, Aranhil did not heed his brother’s words. Instead, he walked along a trail away from his lonely arboreal abode. When Oriel and Orin flew in pursuit of him, he faced them and said, “Sorry, but I wish to walk alone,” and strode on, chancing no protests. Doleful, the faeries looked on as the elf slogged through
the tenebrous forest and continued to weave through the black-boughed timber and the lancing blades of vaporous moonlight until he disappeared from sight, ending the night’s journey wreathed in the arms of Lady Maple.

  Back at the cavern, Thalion carried the girl into a dusky bedchamber, laid her on the bed, and covered her with woolen blankets. The carnelian walls gave the room an auroral ambience—a far contrast from the still ghost that was Sparrow: An ashen figure with lips of blue.

  Limwen flew in and perched atop the trellised headboard of wrought iron. The Elven Master followed and placed some items on a nightstand near the bed. He lifted Sparrow’s wrist and took her pulse and then everted her lower eyelids to expose the minuscule webs of red vessels. In a blink, their tiny threads bled grey. He reached for the silver box on the night table and laid a hand upon it, hesitating with bated breath.

  “What’s wrong?” Thalion’s heart felt wrung of all its volume when he read the worry on his face. Saeldur’s countenance was one of lost hope, akin to one he wore when he tried to save his beloved, Gaeleth. Thalion never forgot that look.

  “I am concerned. I do not know for certain if the measures I take here will work. I have never healed a human before.” The healer gave the box several nervous taps with his fingers as he leaned over it, brooding.

  “I never told you—she’s only half human.” The elf unveiled those soft-pointed ears from behind her black hair, regarding her with spiritless eyes fraught with guilt and a sense of impending loss.

  “Her father is… Erynion?” he asked, his shock restrained, unlike what Thalion had expected.

  “Apparently so.”

  Saeldur bowed his head in deep thought and drew in a long breath, as though biding his time to search for words. “Still, I am not so sure that changes anything. Not being as well-versed in human or halfling medicine, I am afraid treating her may kill her.”

  “But if you do nothing, she’ll die.” His heart silenced long between beats.

  “Yes, she will. I just want you to know the outcome might be the same despite what I do here. You need to prepare yourself.”

  “Prepare myself—for what? To meet my own end? Because that certainly will be my fate if she dies.” While he understood his friend’s sentiments, he harbored a slight resentment at his words. How can I accept losing her? She’s my Evenstar. My Everything. I’m to blame if she dies.

  “Do not let your emotions taint your reason. One tragedy will be one too many without you adding to it.” He moved in to console his young friend with a pat on the shoulder, but Thalion cut the gesture short with a petulant glance.

  “My mind isn’t addled with hysteria. I speak from my heart, much as you did with Gaeleth. You’ve never been the same after you lost her.” The Spiritswayer flinched as though that truth had scalded him. Then he looked down at the pale girl. “I’m sorry, Saeldur. I shouldn’t have mentioned her.”

  “No. You are right. I am not who I once was. With Gaeleth gone, a part of me dies every hour of every day,” he replied, his glassy eyes softening with empathy.

  The healer then opened the silver box inscribed in black with Elvish runes and removed the glass feather and the vial of luminous blue liquid—the antidote. He pinched the sooty wick of a candle, setting it aflame, and passed the sharp tip of the quill over it until it flared like kindling. Then lowering it into the bottle, he siphoned the potion, illuminating the shaft once it was filled, and turned her head to palpate along her neck to find her jugular. Saeldur cleansed her skin with swabs of pure white linen he had soaked in a goblet of wine, extracted the quill, and sank its tip into the thick vein. Her vessels illumed blue beneath her skin as the remedy channeled throughout her body. Wordless, they hovered over her and waited for several seconds.

  “Shouldn’t something have happened?” Thalion raked his fingers through his hair, his impatience boiling over.

  “If she were a full-blooded elf, I would have expected her to respond immediately once the antidote coursed through her system,” he replied, feeling her forehead. “Given she is a halfling, my expectations are unknown.”

  “Perchance it’s slow to work since she is a halfling. Is that possible?”

  “You are asking me questions for which I have no answers.” The Elven Master set the drained quill on the nightstand, and Thalion could hear the frustration in his voice. “But, yes, that may be a possibility. Though it is only conjecture.”

  “Is there anything else we can do for her?” he implored.

  “There is no other remedy for Lothuial’s poison. We can only wait and keep her warm to ensure her complexion and heart rate improve. Maybe it is best you go home and get some rest. I will look after her for the evening and send word to you with any changes.”

  “No, I can’t abandon her. My only place is with Sparrow. I’ll stay and keep watch over her.”

  “Very well,” Saeldur replied, wearing a face of defeat. Thalion wondered if he was so easily trounced by his protest to stay, or by a sense the battle to treat Sparrow was lost. “I will be in my bedchamber. If she awakes, most likely she will burn with fever if the antidote shows any promise. Make sure to blanket her with the cooling minerals,” he said, waving a hand toward a pewter chest on a bureau, “and have Limwen send for me at once.”

  “I will. Thank you, Saeldur.”

  “Let us hope your thanks is merited come morning.” He took her wrist again, silencing himself for a few moments. “Her pulse is slightly stronger, maybe there is yet hope. Have Limwen fetch me should you need me.” After storing the vial and quill back into its case, he walked out and closed the heavy oak door behind him.

  Only shedding his boots, the elf slipped under the blankets with her. He snuggled close, cocooning her to keep her warm, and nestled his head in the crook of her neck. Thalion kissed her and whispered, “My love, please don’t fade away. Amidst the darkness, you’re my Evenstar. My Ethereal Light.”

  The memory of their first night at Dragonfire drifted before him. With the play of lights from the sky on her fair skin and the liveliness of her eyes watching the fire within the clouds, thrilled by the wonders she was beholding, Sparrow surpassed the allure of all the elven ladies of Aeweniel. She was so enthralled by the beauteous light, as he was with hers. And her euphoria was contagious, infusing him with joy he had never known. She was so alive. And for once, he was so hopeful to share his life with someone who truly loved him. But seeing the girl now, lying by him, lifeless, he wondered if his wish would meet a happy end.

  “I should’ve told you when I realized you were the fair maiden at Shakespeare’s play.” The elf tried to dispel the coldness of her skin from his thoughts. “It was then I knew we were destined to be with each other. And I refuse to let you go.” Thalion pressed himself against her, seeking to warm her, to melt into her. Aside from his words, silence pervaded the air. And for the first time since Sparrow’s arrival, he felt alone again.

  More alone than ever before.

  “No, I won’t let you go, my gentle lady.”

  Day and night he lay by her side, watching for any signs of her revival. The glow of her Isilmë Stone had since died out once her body turned frigid. Each day, Saeldur had offered him sustenance to lift his vigor. But Thalion refused it all. “I can’t be apart from my precious lady,” he would tell him. And though he tried convincing him otherwise, the healer understood too well his friend’s intentions.

  “Is there no counsel I can give that will save you from despair? Your entire hope is in Sparrow, and if she”—the words caught in his throat—“if she leaves this world, I fear all will be lost to you as well.”

  “Even beyond the grave, Medlinya has wielded her final blow. All else doesn’t matter,” Thalion told him. And in truth, nothing else did. Not his heart lulling longer between every beat. Not his waning spirit. Not the warmth of life leaving him.

  All is lost to me forever now.

  The elf closed his greyed eyes, mourning her silence, the loss of her warm light. Remorseful
over persuading her to stay with him, Thalion kept replaying the story of their last hours together, imagining things had turned differently, favored them joyously. Weary, he opened his eyes, wrapped his arms around her, and leaned in to kiss Sparrow for what he feared was the last time.

  “Forgive me, Sparrow. I’m to blame for you leaving me so soon,” he whispered, before drifting off to sleep.

  A sennight had passed with no change in her plight. But on the eighth night, Thalion awoke to the blinding moonlight filtering through the enchanted windowed ceiling and tilted his head to view the evening sky. The heavens were alive with moonglow and the flicker of silver stars that rippled down the auburn walls, bathing their bodies with lunar mist. Then the elf rocked his head toward Sparrow and saw her Isilmë Stone luminescing a vivid blue, the warmth of her prompting its glow.

  She must be with fever! He sprang up and touched her forehead. The damp heat of it glossed his hand. Droplets of sweat seeped from her hairline as she wheezed and groaned. “Limwen, fetch Saeldur—posthaste!” The owl flitted off in a flurry.

  Thalion jumped up and tore off the layers of blankets. After wishing her clothes away, he carried the chest of cooling minerals to the bed, set it down, and poured them over the girl, entombing her body from neck to toes. The stones clanked as they showered over her and she shifted beneath them.

  “Th-Thalion, where am I?” Sparrow struggled to sit up, scattering minerals onto the stone floor, her voice a gravelly murmur. “Oh… my stomach is aching horribly.”

  He placed the empty chest on the floor and sat beside her. “Keep still, my love. You’re at Saeldur’s.” He swept her wet tresses from her face. Her sweat was beading black, and the natural pink glow of her cheeks was returning. Lothuial’s bane is finally leaving her, he thought as the healer scurried into the bedchamber. “I think she’s rid of the poison! Her color’s coming back!”