Shadows & Secrets part 8
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C
Cáit trailed Lonán and Deryn, her pack heavy on her back. Deryn had offered to take her violin since he had no pack of his own though she wondered if he should have taken her pack instead. She glanced to her right, her best friend easily keeping pace beside her, face brimming with barely contained excitement.
“You are allowed to be nervous,” she whispered to Maeve, “I know I am.”
“Oh I’m quite terrified,” Maeve admitted, “Fae are dangerous, we all know that. I certainly wouldn’t mind acquiring a hottie of my own though.” Cáit watched her appraise Deryn and nearly burst out laughing as he added a jaunty swish to his walk, obviously well aware of the attention.
“With your standards I think even Fae males would have difficulty meeting them,” she said. Maeve’s impossibly high standards were practically a running joke between them after so long, but Cáit still worried about her friend.
“I don’t know,” Maeve countered, “if the snobby brother is as good looking as your kitty I may lower them… slightly.” Cáit softly laughed along with her.
The woods loomed ahead, massive trunks of oak, maple, and pine crowded together, creating a dense wall of foliage. Lonán guided them to a gap barely wide enough for them to pass through.
“Be mindful of where you step,” he warned, “watch where I step and avoid piles of leaves or needles.” She nodded along with the others and they headed in.
The sky had been morning bright when she entered, not even time for lunch, yet now she had stepped into a twilight realm. The air was heavy with moisture and the smell of the moss which hung in great swaths on the branches. Ferns, their delicate coiled limbs dusted in dew, stretched lazily between the mighty tree trunks. White, tri-petaled flowers clustered in the gaps between the greenery. The dirt trail was narrow and meandered through the undergrowth. Ferns reached only to her knees for now, but she spotted many ahead that looked closer to chest height. The gloom was the biggest hindrance to their journey, disguising jutting tree roots as flat dirt and making harmless chipmunks into startling threats.
Cáit walked in silence, her focus solely on avoiding a twisted ankle and following the others. Maeve was equally quiet which, while unusual, was quite understandable. Time was hard to track in the murky forest and she was already sure she wouldn’t be able to backtrack her way out. While she had only been heading forward the path had been far from straight and she spied numerous offshoot paths amongst the ferns that looked no different than the path they were on.
The trees abruptly ended and a grassy clearing drenched in the afternoon sun had Cáit blinking repeatedly to adjust to the sudden brightness. A blanket was set out and Cáit unpacked the lunch Biddy had packed. Four sacks were tucked atop the clothes and other supplies. The first had an M on it so she passed it to Maeve. An L and C came next. The fourth and heaviest sack did not have a letter. Instead, a rather cheeky drawing of a cat’s face proudly proclaimed its owner.
“Quite the glowing recommendation,” Maeve quipped, chuckling heartily as Deryn began eagerly digging into the generous meal.
“Indeed,” she agreed, “though I’m not sure how he can fit any of it after the towering breakfast she brought him this morning.” Deryn glanced up at her with wide eyes, his mouth crammed full of meat and cheese. Lonán chuckled and it startled her enough she turned her attention to him.
“Leave him be,” he advised, “unlike us he hasn’t enjoyed Biddy’s spoiling for years.” Cáit nodded in agreement, remembering what Deryn had said about the Fae only being hunters. She still couldn’t help smiling at the way he looked, cheeks crammed full, more squirrel than cat. Her heart warmed at Lonán’s gentle defense, pleased to see the two weren’t at odds.
“Most Fae have high metabolisms,” Deryn eventually explained, “our magic also uses up a great deal of energy.”
“Is that why there are nightly feasts?” Maeve asked, her hazel eyes sparkling with curiosity. Cáit had read the same stories so leaned forward with interest as well.
“They aren’t usually nightly,” he corrected, “the main ones are at the solstices and equinoxes, usually consisting of three to five nights of revelry. I’ve noticed humans also celebrate during those times.”
“We do,” Cáit agreed, “we will be celebrating the harvest festival next month.” She watched as Deryn nodded, likely remembering her mentioning it before.
“You said those are just the main ones,” Lonán prompted, his voice so soft Cáit almost didn’t catch it.
“Most Fae enjoy gossip and schemes,” Deryn explained, “such gatherings are perfect for both. Not much reason needs to be given for a court to hold a revel so they are rather plentiful.” Cáit caught the way Deryn worded his answer and it seemed she wasn’t the only one.
“Most?” Maeve questioned, “I take it you don’t care for such?” Deryn shook his head.
“I may be a prince of the court best known for hoarding secrets, but I’ve always found such events rather unpleasant.” She watched his lips tilt upward. “I would frequently find ways to slip away, much to my father’s constant vexation.”
“And your brother?” Cáit nearly choked on her water at her friend’s question.
D
Deryn felt warm in a way that had little to do with the afternoon sun. The meal Biddy had packed him had been as delicious as he expected, but it was the way his companions treated him that had him nearly purring with contentment. It had been far too long since he had enjoyed such relaxed, playful banter with anyone.
The conversation took an unexpected turn when Maeve brought up his brother and he had to pat Cáit’s back as her water went down the wrong way. He was surprised that it seemed Maeve was undaunted by his earlier comments, but figured only meeting Pedr would probably truly satisfy her.
“He used to join me,” he told her, remembering the two of them making a game of sneaking away, “though that stopped once he began his court training. Now he seems to thrive on political maneuvering like the rest of them.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but from their sympathetic gazes he knew it was still noticeable.
“We still have a ways to go,” Lonán reminded them, “and I’d rather not deal with these woods at night.”
The conversation ended there and Deryn winced internally at having ruined the mood. He helped pack away the blanket as the others readied to resume their trek. A soft squeeze on his shoulder had him turning.
“If I ever meet that brother of yours there will be a reckoning for all the hurt he’s caused you.” He felt his throat close up as he stared into Maeve’s hazel eyes, their depths lit with a fire that had him pitying his brother. They softened into pools of honey as he returned the squeeze and nodded, his voice lost to the emotions swirling inside him.
The trek resumed and Deryn found himself pondering his companions. His friends, he realized, in spite of the short time they had known each other. He could practically hear Pedr scoff at him. Weak, pathetic mortals were considered beneath his elder sibling though he found himself wondering if Maeve would be an exception. A memory surfaced that had him nearly tripping on a tree root.
They lay in shadow, the delicate scents of spring blossoms dancing on the breeze as the musicians performed for the guests. It was peaceful up here, unlike being in the throngs gathered below, and Deryn sighed quietly. His brother lounged beside him, their courtly attire shed in favor of midnight fur.
“I can’t believe Father expects me to actually mate with one of those tittering females,” Pedr griped, “I can barely stand talking to any of them.” Deryn turned to his brother, curious.
“Last I checked mating didn’t involve much talking,” he quipped back, earning a glare in return.
“They’re not even that pretty.” The sulky comment would have had his eyebrows lost in his unruly mop of hair in his other form.
“They’re Fae,” Deryn said, “beauty is a given. You have me curious now, big brother.”
“I…” His curiosity spiked higher as his brother seemed at a loss for words. “I want my match to be like fire, like the sun.”
“Fire Fae are low level,” he reminded his brother, “not much in the way of intelligence either.”
“Not a fire Fae,” Pedr agreed, “but a female with their molten gold eyes and wild red hair. A female with a sharp mind and even sharper tongue.”
“Sounds a bit much,” Deryn mused, “even for you.”
“Exactly, little brother.”
Deryn blinked back to the present though his mind kept repeating his brother’s description. He risked a glance behind him and took in Maeve’s coppery red hair. It was not only contained in its typical braid, but wrapped up further to prevent it snagging as they hiked. He imagined it would be quite wild if unbound and her hazel eyes were as close to gold as he’d seen any human’s be. He shook his head and tried focusing on the trail instead of matchmaking his brother to his fiery new friend. Pedr had changed quite a bit since that conversation, but he wondered just how much.
C
Cáit knew something was up when Deryn had an almost imperceptible stumble. Her curiosity was further piqued when he glanced back, his focus not on her, but Maeve. She scurried beside him as he shook his head.
“Copper for your thoughts,” she prompted, earning a smile.
“Just remembering a very old conversation I had with my brother,” he replied.
“About girls?” Cáit asked. He nodded in reply. “Since this concerns my best friend I’d like a bit more details.”
“It was during a spring equinox revel,” he explained, “back when he snuck off with me. He complained father was demanding he choose a mate and he found the selection… lacking.” Cáit couldn’t hide her surprise if she’d tried.
“Fae are known for their beauty,” she mused, “just how high are your brother’s standards?”
“He told me he wanted a female like fire,” he replied, “gold eyes, red hair, sharp mind, and even sharper tongue.” Now it was Cáit’s turn to nearly trip. She had to admit that description more than fit Maeve, especially the sharp tongue.
“But you said he looks down on humans,” she reminded him, “as unusual as Maeve’s mother was, I don’t believe she was Fae. Then again, I didn’t believe my own mother was either.”
“I’ve never seen eyes that shade in humans before,” he admitted, “Fire Fae are known for them along with red hair, but they are lower elementals and have somewhat lower than average intelligence when compared with high Fae.”
“Maeve’s mother was a bit…” she paused, searching for the right words, “scattered and forgetful, but she was like sunshine, always cheerful and smiling.”
“Scattered and forgetful,” he repeated thoughtfully, “that fits with the fire Fae I’ve met. Where is she now?” Cáit winced, remembering the accident and its aftermath.
She had been playing by the lake with Maeve, their chubby limbs tanned from hours in the summer sun. Maeve’s mother had been lounging on a blanket watching them splash about. Lonán was on a small boat with his father learning how to fish. It had been a calm, sun-drenched day and many of the other villagers were also down at the lake. A cry drew her attention and she saw the boat rock and capsize. She saw a bearded head resurface, but Lonán didn’t. Shouts of alarm echoed around her and many dove into the lake to search for him. He was found and brought to shore, unconscious and pale. She caught snippets from the adults nearby and realized he wasn’t breathing. Maeve clung to her, hazel eyes wide with fear, and she tried to stay calm for her friend.
Maeve’s mother collapsed beside Lonán, her wails of distress carrying over to them as they watched helplessly. She hugged Maeve, letting her friend bury her face into her chest and sob.
A hush fell over the crowd and soon amazed gasps replaced the cries of anguish. She watched Lonán sit up, disoriented, but alive. Cáit didn’t know what had happened, but ran over to hug the often grumpy older sibling.
Later that night, however, news arrived to her parents that Maeve’s mother had been stricken ill. Over the next few weeks, Cáit watched as the once glowing woman slowly guttered out like a candle. Even years after her passing, nobody could explain what had ailed her.
Cáit shook her head, still partly in the past. She had been so young, yet she still couldn’t make sense of it.
“Mom gave me her fire,” came a soft voice. Cáit looked up to see Lonán had stopped and turned to her. “I died that day, drowned in that lake, but she gave me something that brought me back. She didn’t look the same when they buried her, everything was duller and darker, like a fire was put out.”
“So it’s possible she was indeed a fire Fae,” Deryn mused. Lonán looked thoughtful for a moment then resumed leading the way.
D
Deryn scented the Fae well before any signs were evident in the brush. He closed the distance between himself and Lonán, laying a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“We’re close,” he whispered, his senses straining to pick out the Fae likely watching them.
“The area is just up ahead,” Lonán confirmed softly. “There are no traps beyond this point.” Deryn nodded and strode forward. The air was even thicker with moisture here and dew glistened from the ferns and moss. Darting shadows in the undergrowth caught his eye, confirming the presence of Fae. Straighten his back he took a deep breath.
“I am Deryn, son of Caedryn, High Lord of the Cat Sith,” he announced, pouring every ounce of authority he could into his words, “The Woodland Fae’s concerns have been heard and I come with a solution to end the strife plaguing my brethren.”
A small shadow detached from a nearby tree and approached. The Fae was the size of a small child, though its green skin and mossy hair was far from human. Big watery black eyes looked up at him and he could tell his friends were unnerved by the lack of white in them. It sketched a low bow and wheezed a reply that reminded him of creaking wood.
“We of the woodland welcome our brethren of shadow,” it replied, “it gladdens us to hear you bring a solution to the humans’ treachery. Are these gifts you bring with you?”
“These mortals are here under my protection and will not be harmed or bargained with,” he countered. “I shall speak with your mother and share my solution.” The Fae nodded and turned to lead them forward. Before following, he turned to his friends, noting their worried expressions and uneasy scents.
“Share no names or information,” he warned, “do not eat or drink anything no matter how tempting, and agree to nothing.” He watched them each nod and continued. “I do not know if the grove mother will accept mortals into her counsel chamber. Stick together and do not wander if we are separated.” He felt Cáit take his hand and give a reassuring squeeze.
“You can do this,” she said softly. He nodded then turned back to the Fae and followed.
The signs of Fae increased as they made their way forward. Tiny dwellings tucked between tree roots and little doors dotted along tree trunks announced the smaller denizen of the wood. Tall, slender shadows danced from tree to tree, following their progress, and told him the local dryads found his cadre fascinating. Sprites soon made an appearance, their fluttering wings sparkling like iridescent rainbows.
The ferns parted around a large mossy mound, a round wooden door proclaiming it more than a simple hillock. Their guide knocked a series of quick raps and it opened. He recognized the hunched figure as the grove mother as she entered the dappled sunlight, but a second Fae stood behind her still shrouded in shadow. His eyes widened as a familiar scent wafted to him.
“I bid you welcome Deryn, son of Caedryn,” the grove mother greeted, “I believe you know our other guest.” She turned to her companion and they stepped out of the shadows.
“It is good to see you are well, little brother.”
Continue Reading: Part 9
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