Echoes of Fae: Book One of the Divine (14 page)

              “I have been investigating as well,” Jax explained. “In my travels I had noticed these creatures. There are villages that close and bolt themselves away every night and will not accept outsiders.”

              “How fast are they multiplying?” Melody asked, her heart racing uncontrollably. She was very afraid of this development. She had seen the old man and none of them expected him to rise. Who stole him and how? Did someone capable of such an incantation have to be close to him? She shivered. Jax looked down at her, his face unreadable. She tried to smile but felt her face falter. Instead, she slumped down onto the ground and wrapped her arms around her knees. She needed to stop shaking but felt it only worsen.

              “Melody,” Thane said, kneeling beside her. “Calm down, Sister. You are panicking,” the Healer said quietly. “Breathe deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth.” Thane instructed softly. Jennifer led the rest of the group away from the Pramacretine. She could hear them continue to speak. “I know you are scared and you should be. This is scary. We have to remain strong and aware. We are surrounded by incredible people who will help us and you are incredible in ways we do not yet know.” Thane droned reassuringly. Melody felt her heart slow and was able to calm down. She put her face on her knees and looked at her brother. Thane smiled down at her.

              “You look so young and small,” the Healer said wryly. “I remember when Father brought you home. We were so angry and confused when he sent word of you. When he arrived at the palace with a one-year-old, all of our doubt and anger fell away. Such a little thing and so very cute,” Thane said, smiling. “Father loved you best of all of us, which always angered Alastaf. Father could not help it, though. You are a force, you always were.” As Thane finished his reminiscing, he looked at his sister. She was staring at him, tears running down her face. He looked at her questioningly.

              “I did not think Father loved me best,” she admitted. “I thought he did not love me.”

              “Oh, on the contrary!” Thane said through laughter. “He doted on you. He was strict because of the dangers you would face. Remember, you conceived in the same manner as Rovingae. Father wanted to ensure you would find strength on your path.  It was a testament to him that his hard work was successful. You should have seen him, though,” Thane said, his face alight. “He bragged of you to all. He cried when you cried. He bent to your every wish, even if he made it seem like he did not.” Melody laughed at Thane's story.

              “This must be why Alastaf hated me so much,” Melody whispered. Her expression revealed sorrow and disappointment. “Did he not know it was never my fault?”

              “Of course he did,” Thane said, placing his hand on his sister's shoulder. “Melly, he loves you. We all do, we always have. You are impossible to hate. Alastaf never hated you; he was jealous and angry with Father. Sometimes, his anger boiled over at you. 'Last has never been good at being gentle. Father trained him to be diplomatic and aloof.”

              “He was so angry,” Melody argued. Thane nodded and hugged her.

              “He will not always be,” The Healer stated. “But you must break through his wall to find the brother you want in him.”

              “Why did you not tell me this sooner?” Melody asked, hurt.

              “I did not know before,” Thane said. “When I left I thought as you did, that he hated you. However, as I grew and learned about the nature of people, of different races, I found clues of what he really thought and realized he never hated you, or me. He was envious of our closeness and angry with Father for his differentiation. 'Last is to be Pacretine, so his upbringing was different than ours.”

              Melody smiled and leaned against her brother a moment longer before she dragged herself off the ground. She made her way back to the rest of her friends and smiled wearily.

              “This is big,” Melody said to all of them. “I am dismayed to find that our family is not properly informed of this situation and I hope that upon our return we will begin to handle it accordingly.

              “In regards to my incantation, we know we can be injured or worse by mortal means but we also know we are all quite capable of protecting ourselves. We also know these bodies have souls in them that Rovingae is destroying. My incantation will protect you from her stealing your soul. Once it has left you, she cannot get it. If you do die by mortal means,” Melody paused, taking a breath. “Your soul should be safe from her.

              “Now, since we are on a particular mission, Haroah,” Melody said, indicating her half Helacorn friend. He stepped forward and knelt before the Pramacretine. Melody sighed and waved him up. “I do not mean to be ungrateful, but I would prefer if you all would try to address me as equal. I expect you to respect anyone, so if you treat me with respect we will be fine.

              “Haroah's sister is missing and we have a lead to find him. I have held us back long enough and I do hope we have not lost too much ground.” Melody finished, turning to Jennifer expectantly. Jennifer shook her head in response.

              “They are near. Maybe a few hours. The man is not moving her,” Jennifer stated.

              “Her name is Cybil,” Haroah said. “She is ten and nine years now.”

              “How old are you?” Yirah asked, surprised.

              “I am twenty and two,” Haroah answered.

              “You are very close in age, then,” Melody said. “I did not know that.”

              “Mother and Father were together for only a half a decade before Father was killed by Helacorn males,” Haroah said. “Father was C'ghalie.”

              “A mixed coupling is not uncommon for Helacorn women,” Yirah explained. “A mixed marriage, however, is an affront to our culture.” The Helacorn guard laughed. “Our males are so insecure because their women do not want them so they claim some cultural nonsense for the dilution of the race.” Yirah eyed Haroah appreciatively. The six of them gathered their things and set out once more.

              As they traveled in silence, Jax remained tranquil, his face showing unmovable concern. Jax stared at Melody, every muscle in his body tightened. He did not know why this concerned him. The whole of the world’s pressure was on her petite shoulders. He could sense her fear. He wanted to break into the crowd and scoop her up and away, hiding her from the demanding good and the merciless evil. He wanted to free her, to relinquish her from her fate. Melody caught his eye, her face glowing. He did not smile, but his eyes brightened.

              Cybil awoke hesitantly. Her eyes sparked with the tinge of pain she felt on her back. She could smell Ether. It was pungent, causing her eyes to water, but she also realized the Ether was an incantation of pain relief. She sat up carefully, intermittent pain running along her back. She stood, wobbly, her head swimming with effort and confusion.

              “Where am I?” She called out, her voice sounded small in the large room. She saw a nose poke into the doorway, followed closely by a pair of eyes and crooked lips.

              “I’m s’pose to watch ye…” The peeking creature whispered. “In case ye hurt, or ye need anythin’,” he said, poking the rest of his head in, looking at her. His eyes widened. “Oy, ye’re even prettier awake,” he observed. He was a Gnome and he was quite aged. His eyes were bright but a very dull yellow. His nose was as short as he was in height. He stood to the doorknob. Cybil was young but being half Helacorn, she was rather tall. Everyone knew her father had always told her she took after her mother. Her father was a tall and handsome C'ghalie. Haroah had many Helacorn features, but remained wingless. Realizing she had been thinking silently, Cybil invited the Gnome inside.

              “My back hurts…” Cybil gasped.

              “So it should,” the small man said as he bumbled in with a silver tray that held a variety of provisions. She looked at him questioningly.

              “Ye were almost killed in a fire, lady. My master has saved ye and brought ye here to heal,” the Gnome stated. Cybil felt tears well up in her eyes.

              “And my mother?” She whispered. The Gnome took notice to her expression and the sheen of liquid in her eyes. He put the tray down beside the bed and stood in front of her. His small face was miserable.

              “We dinna’ know if she lives, my lady,” he said, patting her hand consolingly. “But we didna’ find her in your home. Not burned up or anythin’,” he declared. “We also dinna’ know who started the fire, or if it were an accident,” the Gnome finished. Cybil fought her tears as the little man stared at her. “I am sorry, Lady,” his plump face was distraught. She shook her head.

              “I am okay. I mean, I think I am,” Cybil reached behind her and felt for her wings. Her eyes widened. “My wings!” She screamed, fumbling about the room. Cybil's panic overwhelmed the little Gnome, who ran out of the room to fetch his master. The tall, dark man was already on his way after hearing the noise. He stood beside the door, listening to her screaming. The Gnome stood in front of him shaking. Rictor went inside. Cybil was huddled in a heap on the floor, her voice drawn between calling for her mother and screaming uncontrollably. Her voice, underutilized and injured in the smoke, could not take the abuse and gave out.

              It did not take long for Cybil to stop moving. She was very weak. The Helacorn girl lied on the floor with tears spilling from her eyes. Rictor knelt down beside her. He had known Cybil's father long ago and was sorry for the girl. The only reason she was alive was that Feruun, Rictor’s Gnomish assistant who had seen the fire on his way home from Market. He ran home as fast as his tiny legs could carry him to fetch his master. Rictor did not make it in time to save the house, but had saved the remaining occupant. He had been burned quite badly also as he went through the whole house searching for the parents.

              They found Cybil on the second floor. She was in a small room lying beneath a fallen mirror that had caught on fire. The whole house had caved in and she was in a lot of burning wreckage. Rictor was grateful for his horse’s speed. Cybil’s wings were in tatters when he found her, the right one being broken at the shoulder blade. It appeared as though she had protected herself with them and it had been quite effective. When he had gotten her to the inn, which they found in Ferumt, the old cook had assisted him in the amputation of the Helacorn girl’s wings. They were growing infected with filth and third degree burns. Rictor did not want to, but the burns made the wings hazardous dead weight.

              He placed a hand gently on Cybil's arm, his dark eyes bathing her in warmth. Cybil choked slumped over so she was lying in the floor. Her body was long and dark, which Rictor recognized as unusual on a Helacorn. Her hair was dark, as well, but her eyes were light blue with a turbulent purple tinge to them. Rictor knew he was only a decade younger than her father was. He had seen Haroah once or twice before the boy left home when he was small so he could make wages and help support his family. Rictor was around ten years older than Cybil. Rictor remembered Haroah from before he left and how sad his parents were that he was gone. Cybil was eighteen or nineteen at the most and had never met her brother. Cybil was a surprise to her mother, and her neighbors. Helacorn were nearly infertile, often having only one or no children in their lives.

              Rictor had not been very surprised, as the mixed couples were often very fertile, pure Helacorn couples were very rarely successful in procreation. It was custom to blame the infertility of the females, since the males were so virile and strong and the females tall, thin and intelligent. In fact, it was the opposite. 

              “What happened to my wings?” Cybil whispered so quietly Rictor had to strain to gather the words.

              “You instinctively protected yourself from the inferno and your falling house by wrapping yourself in them,” Rictor said, rubbing her arm. “I have been meaning to put some cleansing oils on your burns, but I am afraid I could not get past your frightened kicking when I touched you. I guessed you were having dreams. You may be growing ill,” he whispered the last line apologetically.

              “I do not feel feverish,” Cybil said quietly. “I think I am just upset, really.”

              “You are lucky to be alive, Cybil,” Rictor said bluntly. “Your wings saved you. I did not get there in time to get you out of the fire. I just got there in time to save you from suffocating,” as Rictor spoke Cybil calmed herself. Her wings were not necessary to her survival. She knew she would miss the sensation of flight but she thought she would definitely miss her life much more. Rictor’s hand on her wrist was comforting. He had always been very kind and soft spoken. She wondered why he lived alone with a Gnome. Feruun stepped lightly into the room, his little legs quivering. He looked at Rictor apologetically.

              “There are people knocking,” Feruun said too loudly out of his anxiety. His eyes were wide and frightened.

              “You may let them in,” Rictor said softly. As the Gnome scurried off Rictor helped Cybil up. “They are here, finally. I shall have one of the women help you into some clothes. They brought a Healer, so he can help with the burns,” Rictor said mysteriously. Cybil nodded. Rictor made his way to the entrance hall; he felt drained and wished nothing more than to continue his experiments in peace. As he walked into his entry room, he saw four very beautiful women waiting as they conversed with the excited and captivated Gnome.