Shadows & Secrets part 1
Lately, I’ve been reading a bunch of fiction stories that feature Fae, some holding to traditional folklore, others not, and it’s inspired a story of my own. I’ve decided to use the same dual perspective I used for Elixir, with POV swaps marked by character initials, so many of you will find that familiar.
D
Emerald eyes narrowed, their focus intent on the creature before them. Golden curls bounced, gleaming in the sun as the girl danced through the garden. Her laughter was bright and carefree as she twirled in her powder blue dress. Ebony-furred ears flicked, adjusting and readjusting to the unpredictable sounds of the girl oblivious to her audience. The small crunch of mulch was masked by the girl’s giggle, but the sharp tang of magic was noticeable enough to announce his companion.
“You have an unseemly fascination with this mortal child, brother,” the voice chided deep and low beside him. He did not bother to tear his gaze from the girl, already knowing the disdainful look his brother would have on his face well enough. He also didn’t deign to try explaining, having tried numerous times before. His brother would never understand. His opinion of mortals would remain the same as the rest of their kind regardless of his little brother’s feelings.
“Is there something you require?” He knew there was, but as usual Pedr never volunteered anything if he could help it.
“Father wishes to see you,” Pedr replied. Pedr sounded almost bored and proceeded to groom his paws with disinterest. An act, he knew, for if it had been Pedr summoned before their father he would have been quaking in fear, at least, on the inside. Always in such control his brother, never a whisker out of place, no bit of fur ruffled. He could never seem to mirror that level of control, his emotions always bright waves that came bursting out. It was part of what drew him to this garden so often, to the girl that reveled in such emotions.
He took a deep breath, trying to push aside the disappointment of a visit cut short and keep the terror at what possibly awaited him at bay. Knowing it would be worse the longer he delayed, he closed his eyes and slipped into the shadows.
Caedryn sat the ancient throne, his posture regal and cold. A small tremor of relief rippled through him from ear tip to tail at the sight, for his father did not sit in his malk form. Instead, a tall, almost human-looking male awaited him. There were no creases in his face or white in his jet hair to indicate his hundreds of years in age, but that was as typical for Fae as the pointed ears were.
Striding on silent paws, he shifted out of his own malk and approached the throne. He bowed down on one knee with fluid grace, his short black hair just long enough to curtain over his face as he inclined his head.
“You wished to speak with me father?” He dared not look up and instead studied the sleek polished stone that made up most of the floors in the castle. Glittering bands of gold and burnished copper sliced the endless pitch of the stone and iridescent flecks of crystal twinkled up at him like stars.
“Since it has come to my attention that you find this court so tiresome that you’d rather spend your time observing mortals,” he tried not to flinch at the sharpness in his father’s tone, “I’m sending you south to look into a puzzling matter.” He waited, head still bowed in submission, for his father to continue. “It appears the mortals down there have developed a weapon of some sort that has managed to harm numerous lesser Fae enough to have them clamoring in panic. You will infiltrate the mortals and discover more about this weapon. All your time observing them should make the task simple enough.” He could hear the sneer in his father’s voice, but he held a neutral expression as he rose.
“Their secrets will be yours,” he said, each word tasting foul in his mouth, but it was what his father expected, their purpose as he was frequently told. They were the Fae of shadows and secrets, spies and assassins of the highest caliber. His feelings, however, were inconsequential and would likely get him killed if he voiced them. Instead, he bowed smoothly at his waist and strode out of the chamber, his back straight and head held high.
C
She sighed softly, her head turned towards the window and the beautiful day she was unable to enjoy. Instead, she was stuck in a dusty library listening to the monotonous drone of some lengthy account of supposed importance. She knew she should pay attention, but her thoughts, like her gaze, kept returning to the riotous colors dotting the grassy hills outside. A nasally wheeze ended the drone and she snapped back to attention.
“Your father will not be pleased to hear you were not a studious pupil today, Lady Cáit,” her teacher chided. He was barely more than a walking skeleton, his skin wrinkled and hanging in folds like the parchment he so often carried about.
“Then perhaps we should not inform him since he has so much on his mind already.” She knew it had a slim chance of working, but with the latest issues with the wild, viscous Fae along their borders it just might. A wave of a bony hand was all the dismissal she needed and she practically ran from the room of scrolls and stale air.
Brilliant sunshine greeted her as she burst from the doorway, free at last. Soft strands of chestnut hair lifted in the fragrant breeze as she made her way to the meadow littered with wildflowers. She collapsed bonelessly onto the soft grass, brightly-colored blossoms bobbing almost in welcome around her. She sprawled her arms and legs wide, grass tickling her skin as the sun warmed her. Closing her eyes, she tipped her head back, breathing in nature’s perfume deeply. A softly lilting chuckle announced the end of her solitude, but she smiled knowing it was simply her best friend. A soft thump sounded beside her followed by a tired sigh.
“You really are a cat,” her friend joked, “lounging in the sun as if there’s nothing more important to do with your time.” Cáit chuckled at her friend’s ongoing jest about her name. She stretched on the hillside, working out the stiffness sitting at the desk in the library for hours had caused. Her mother’s little kitten, always bounding about and letting her curiosity get her into mischief. Even now that she was technically an adult she couldn’t help that urge to play and explore.
“Shall we explore our latest find?” Cáit had been fascinated by the strange ruins they’d found while hunting for blackberries days ago, but then rains had come and curtailed further investigation. Her friend seemed hesitant to agree.
“I don’t know, Cáit,” she replied nervously, “what if those were Fae markings?” Cáit knew it was possible, there were stories that the Fae had a court with ruling lords that cared little for the affairs and lives of humans so the ruins could have been theirs.
“You’re right Maeve,” she agreed reluctantly, “it’s probably safer to avoid it, especially with the increased Fae attacks.” A shout in the distance had Maeve sitting up.
“Wish I could lounge with you longer, but I’d rather not take more beatings from that spoon.” Cáit nodded, giving her friend a quick hug. She knew the head cook’s spoon well in spite of her father’s status so did not fault her friend in the least. Left to her own devices, Cáit began strolling through the wildflowers, her fingers gently brushing the soft petals reaching for the sun.
Her wandering took her to the edge of the village, a low stone wall the only indication. Beyond the wall, she could see the rolling hills dotted with roaming clusters of white. A small wooded area nestled beside the wall, just big enough for rabbits and other small game to flourish amongst tangled brush. Blackberries were plentiful there too she knew, having ventured there often. She hopped up and walked along the top of the wall, her soft leather boots easily gripping the rough stone.
As she reached the trees she thought she heard a yelp of pain. It sounded oddly human and she wondered if a young hunter had accidentally gotten stuck in his own trap. She stuck to the dirt trails and tried to track where the yelp had come from. Her ears straining, she finally picked up soft whimpers. Cáit rounded a leafy bush and saw it was not a hunter at all, but a jet black animal.
She approached cautiously, watching as it pawed at the iron jaws clamped onto its back leg. She studied its sleek body, triangular ears, and long fluffy tail. All clad in inky black fur. It looked feline, but was far bigger than the cats that usually kept the local rodent population in check, somewhere between a fox and a wolf in size. Any smaller and the trap likely would have severed the limb it clamped onto.
Cáit was close enough now the creature noticed her presence, its green eyes almost glowing as it stared at her. She paused, expecting growls, but it merely studied her.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” she murmured softly, “I want to help.” Those emerald eyes held her gaze and she could almost see the understanding in them. This was no mere animal she realized, her mouth going dry, but she took a steadying breath and continued her approach. It sat quietly as she knelt before the trap. With careful fingers she reached the release latch and pulled. The sharp metal jaws went slack and she gently pulled it away. The wounds bled worse now and the creature whimpered softly, its whiskered muzzle investigating the punctured flesh.
Surprisingly bold, she nudged the creature’s face out of the way, her other hand digging into the satchel she always carried. Her hands were steady as she cleaned and treated the wounds with salve, each movement completed with practiced ease thanks to years bandaging up herself and Maeve when their adventures lead to scrapes and cuts. A soft bandage was wound around the creature’s leg, a stark white patch over the shadowy limb.
“There,” she said proudly, “it’ll take awhile to heal, especially if you can’t stay off the leg, but there shouldn’t be any lasting damage.” Cáit couldn’t help smiling as the creature reached up and nuzzled her cheek, obviously thanking her for the help. “These woods are full of these traps,” she warned, “it would be safer to take your hunting elsewhere.” She stood and turned to head home. She could feel the creature’s eyes on her as she did, but didn’t look back as she made her way out into the sunshine.
D
He sat in the blood-soaked grass, his gaze on the female as she walked away. The strange-smelling jaws sat beside him, his blood still coating its jagged fangs. It was like the glossy metals he knew well, yet somehow not quite the same. Rough and black it had clamped onto him with brutal efficiency. Something about the material had prevented him from shifting and thus freeing himself from it. A trap she had called it, but not for him. She had talked to him as if she knew he understood so he figured it was likely she knew he was Fae and not some woodland animal. If these traps were not designed to catch Fae, but were dangerous to them, he wondered if they could be considered weapons at all. More information would be required he decided and stood, testing his back leg cautiously.
He padded along the dirt path quietly, ready to jump into a shadow at a moment’s notice. It was a brash plan, but he had nothing better right now. The strange traps in the woods had him uneasy and feeling woefully lacking in information. The female did not glance back even once as she made her way out of the woods, making his task all the easier. A small blessing considering the painful wound caused him to limp and hobble rather pathetically.
She followed a stone wall for a while, its shadow offering him cover, before turning and entering a hilly field of wildflowers. The blossoms gently bobbed and waved as she made her way along, teasing his instinct to pounce and play. Another female, older and rounder than his rescuer, approached, waving at the girl and shouting. His Fae hearing picked up the word cat and he panicked, ducking down further into the tall wildflowers and grass. He crouched, listening intently, as the woman reached them.
“Ah, there you are Lady Cáit,” the older woman huffed, “Maeve was hoping you could help her with the apples since Irene is still sick.” He watched Cáit nod and follow the woman as he stayed hidden. It puzzled him that a lady would be asked to assist such a task, let alone accept to do so. He admitted to himself that her behavior in the woods and even the fact she was in them alone also didn’t match up with the noble ladies he was used to observing. With both humans off on their way, he took in the buildings of the village. They did not seem any different than those he had seen before with their thatched rooftops and stone walls. Only two were taller than the others, a brightly painted sign swinging outside of one. He recognized it as the local inn, which meant the other was likely the lord’s manor. Slipping from shadow to shadow, he made his way to the manor and slipped inside an open window.
The room was sparsely appointed, but everything was finely made, showcasing wealth without being austentatious. A meeting room or study he decided from the layout of chairs and the large desk. He peered out into the hall, grateful it was also empty. He prowled along, his leg throbbing with the use, and snuck glimpses into the rooms as he went.
Finally, he spied the finely decorated room he was looking for. It was decorated much more simply than he expected though he found it fit the girl better. Instead of the large vanity being piled with beauty products there were flowers and unusual finds. He saw shells and feathers as well as a tiny animal skull bleached and clean. A trove showcasing a love for adventure and exploration over sitting pretty making idle chatter. He had a similar collection hidden away in his own room though it consisted of human knick knacks over those found in nature. Turning his attention to the rest of the room, his eyes landed on the stacks of books surrounding a well worn armchair. Shifting into his other form, he plopped down and grabbed the topmost book. He chuckled quietly and looked through the rest of her chosen reading selection, not at all surprised that it was brimming with wild tales of adventures in far off lands.
He noticed the rest of the room had more traditional hobbies displayed. He stood and went to the art easel in the opposite corner, brushes and paints neatly awaiting use beside it. Like her books and trove, he saw a love of the outdoors in her art. A stringed instrument propped up against the wall caught his attention next and he found himself wanting to hear her play. Most Fae tended to favor pipes and drums, but he had developed a love for the fiddle, an instrument his father abhorred.
His curiosity took him to her bedroom, a cozy nest of a room. The walls were draped in richly illustrated tapestries depicting forests and oceans. The bed was piled high with blankets and pillows that begged him to snuggle and rest. His leg echoed the cry for rest and he caved. Shifting back into his malk form, he buried into the plushness and waited.
Continue Reading: Part 2
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This was great!