The Silver Thread

Copyright © 2012 by Emigh Cannaday

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please visit www.emighcannaday.com.

Book Cover Design by
Fiona Jayde
| Interior Design by
The Deliber
ate Page

I’d like to thank Maureen, Jessica, Emily, & Anne, for all the valuable feedback and assistance.

I can’t thank my husband enough for supporting me in every way while I was preoccupied in another world, but here’s my attempt: Thank you, Biscotti.

Dedicated to those who still believe.

Talvi hoisted the saddle from his horse’s back and sent the weary animal into the white pasture, where two over-fed mares stood. Out of habit, he peered through the falling snow, looking for his twin sister’s grey mare, but he knew it was pointless. The mare was dead. Yuri was undead. He might never see her again.

It was a late winter snowfall, thick and heavy and wet; the kind that covers every twig and branch of every tree in a soft layer of cottony fluff. The trees of the forest surrounding his home were mostly made up of silver poplar and white birch. Their trunks and branches appeared ghostly and pale in the snow. Talvi might have appreciated the beauty around him more if his boots weren’t soaked from walking so long in it. He decided Ghassan could wait just a little bit longer for his well-deserved hay and grain, and let the saddle, reins, and bridle slip from his hands beside the barn door. He was too exhausted to bother hanging them up properly. He trudged through the deep snow towards the sprawling hacienda across the quiet yard. Although he and his companions had covered hundreds of miles of terrain on foot, these last few steps seemed the longest. For almost three months he slogged through snow and sleet with his closest friends and family. They had traversed bleak plains, winded through frozen forests, and crossed icy rivers. The foothills of the mountains were treacherous in some areas, and they had barely escaped not one, but two avalanches. And even though he was a wanderer by trade, Talvi detested winter travel unless it was the short ride into town to warm his spirits at the pub. It was his opinion that during winter, any sane creature belonged in front of a fire, where they should be pacified by good food, good wine, and if they were truly blessed, good company.

He came to a robust side door, lifted the latch, leaned his weight against it, and put a false smile on his face before stepping into a wave of heat that caressed his numb cheeks and nose. As he entered the cozy kitchen, he could hear the squeals and laughter of his mother, his older sister, and her small children from down the hall. Talvi passed through the room to find them reunited with his brother-in-law, Asbjorn, who had not even had a chance to take off his coat or hat.

Asbjorn had been missing for a year on the wrong side of a broken portal, and it was feared that he might not return. It was discovered that he had been trapped on Earth, with no way to get back to his family. Now he had managed to cram both his children and his wife into one enormous bear hug, while two fairies hovered above them, visible only as soft, small orbs of orange and purplish-blue light. Talvi’s mother had his older brother Finn in her arms, and his cousin Zaven smiled happily beside them, already having gotten his welcome home hugs.

“Oh, you’re here; you’ve finally returned home!” Althea exclaimed. She let go of Finn after kissing his cheeks, and turned to her youngest son, embracing him close. “Where is everyone else?”

She glanced over Talvi’s shoulder toward the kitchen to see her husband Ambrose joining them, but no one else was there.

“They’re on a different schedule,” Asbjorn said, looking first at his wife, then at his in-laws, and then back to his small children whom he still held tight. “There is much to tell that little ears need not hear. And my, how they have grown in all this time.”

“Daddy, you need a bath,” Stella pointed out, pinching her tiny nose as she made a sour face. “You’re smelly!”

“Then your tale must wait,” said Talvi’s mother, wiping her eyes as she let go of him. She had expected all of her friends and family to return home together, and happy as she was, she still felt her heart sinking. Stella reached out for Talvi, urging him to take her from Asbjorn’s arms.

“You need a bath too, Uncle Talvi,” Stella informed him as he held her on his hip. “You smell like Daddy.”

“I believe I shall
not
have a bath. I think you
like
how I smell,” he teased, nuzzling her with his overgrown sideburns, which made her squeal and squirm. But rather than pawn his niece onto someone else and make a dash for the wine cellar, he only looked at her, studying her. He had only been gone a few months, a fraction of her lifetime, and yet she looked so different. She seemed older. But perhaps it was just he who had changed, he whose perception had shifted.

“Where is the girl with hair like the fairies?” Stella asked in her sweet little voice. Even though Talvi’s body was beginning to warm up, he was abruptly chilled by Stella’s innocent question. The fairies shared a sympathetic glance as they waited to hear Talvi’s response.

“You mean Annika?”

His niece nodded. Talvi was surprised she even remembered Annika.

“I believe she went home,” he said, trying to give a confident smile while he shifted her weight in his arms.

“But why didn’t she want to stay? I thought she liked you a lot,” Stella demanded.

Talvi’s throat swelled in response to his little niece’s precociousness, and his eyes stung. He didn’t know how to respond. Stella’s simple question had such a complicated answer. It wasn’t as though Annika had simply said ‘later’ and taken off. She had been sucked through the same broken portal that Asbjorn had come flying out of. Her body had been ripped out of Talvi’s protective arms…arms that had never let her go unwillingly until that one moment. That one moment had played over and over in his dreams, in his waking life, until it was no longer a painful memory. It was his painful, every day existence. Thankfully, his best friend, Runa, was close by to answer for him. She chose her words carefully before she spoke in her wispy wood-nymph voice.

“I think she
did
want to stay, but she is not from here, so she had to go back. She missed her family,” Runa explained, trying to sound as optimistic as possible, but in reality, none of them had any idea if Annika was safe with her family or not. Runa’s answer must have been less than satisfactory to Stella, because she was at that age where children begin to ask ‘why’ over and over. Talvi tried to answer as best as he could without saying too much, but he began to grow exasperated with her. Small children were not his area of expertise.

“Darling,” Anthea said as she turned to Asbjorn, “let’s bring the children upstairs, and I’ll prepare a bath for us. I was just about to do the washing, so there is plenty of hot water available for when the others should like to take their baths. The washing can wait another day.”

“Thank you,” Zaven and Finn both said at the same time. Talvi handed his niece back to Asbjorn before returning to the kitchen with everyone else.

“Would you like a cup of tea, Dardis?” Althea offered, reaching for the kettle. There were two small orbs of light; one purple, and one orange. Without hesitation, the lights burst with a flash, resulting in two human-sized fairies now standing in the kitchen.

“That would be lovely,” said the purple-eyed fairy through her chattering teeth. Her tiny pointed nose was still bright pink from the cold, making her look slightly like a circus performer. She pulled up a chair next to the hearth to enjoy her tea while she thawed out.

“Would anyone else like some tea?” Althea asked.

“I suspect Finn has gone to fetch something a bit more warming than tea,” Zaven said, nodding his head toward the cellar door, which was ajar. Sure enough, Finn returned quickly with a heavy, lumpy sack in one hand and a distinctly-shaped bottle in the other. Talvi recognized it immediately, and snatched it away from his brother; his spirits lifted for a moment. Wine was for every day, but his father’s precious fairy brandy was only enjoyed on special occasions.

Finn set the sack on the counter, and then took out the special brandy glasses from the top shelf of the china cabinet. Talvi uncorked the long, narrow-necked bottle, poured a glass for everyone, and then held his own glass to his nose. It made his mouth water, this divine drink that he had missed for so long. Made from peaches and apricots, there was nothing else quite like it, thicker than wine, but lighter than mead, and within a single sip, he could feel it flood into his arms and legs. By the third taste, it had reached his fingers and toes. It was definitely more effective than tea at warming him up.

He leaned against the counter next to the sink, which was serviced by a pump rather than hot and cold water faucets. His father tended to the fires while his mother tended to what would soon be cooking over them. It was her way of saying ‘welcome home’, and a more appreciated way of mothering her grown sons. The fairies huddled at the hearth beside her; their delicate, tiny limbs warming quickly by the heat. Talvi was content to tend to nothing more than his brandy glass. It was comforting, hearing his parents’ playful bickering, the fire crackling, and the beginnings of an excellent dinner. It seemed like a distant memory, not the present moment.

“Chivanni, would you be a dear and put these into the broth?” Althea asked the orange fairy as the carrots and potatoes she was rinsing in the sink began to pile up. She glanced at Talvi’s gaunt face with deep concern. “We must be certain there are plenty of extra helpings tonight. My poor boy looks nearly starved to death.”

“It’s not from lack of things to eat,” the fairy said, and gave a little wave of his slender hand. The chopped vegetables rose and casually float over to the hearth single file, before sinking into the pot of near-boiling water without so much as splashing Althea.

“Then what is it from?” she asked, growing more concerned for her son.

“Lack of appetite,” Chivanni answered discreetly, and Althea gave a subtle nod of understanding. Ambrose topped off Talvi’s glass before setting the narrow bottle on the counter.

“Shall we drink to your recent marriage, then?” he asked with a wry smile as he raised his glass. Talvi glanced at his wedding band. Nothing slipped past his father.

“You ask as though I would object at drinking to anything,” was Talvi’s smart-alec response. He raised his glass to his lips, nearly spilling the precious brandy as his mother gasped and dropped the knife she had been using onto the cutting board.

“Talvi Anatolius, you didn’t!”

“He certainly did,” Finn replied, grinning at his brother.

Upon his mother’s insistence, Talvi set his glass on the counter and held his left hand out for inspection. The lamplight from above made the ring shimmer with an ethereal glow, and she smiled at the tiny phrase inscribed inside the platinum band.

“
Mo reis to comp anya vlatzee
,” she read softly. “How lovely that you had it written in Fae.”

“We performed the ceremony on the solstice, just as it was written in the stars,” Dardis informed her after taking another drink of her tea.

Althea let go of his hand, and took a step back to eye her youngest son; wild-haired, clad in black, and looking like nothing but trouble. Even though his eyes had dark circles under them, they still managed to cast a mischievous twinkle.

“The one child I never thought would settle down, and then you do so without my knowledge? For shame!”

Talvi gave a little smirk and shrugged.

“Mother, I did no such thing. You were given three hundred years notice that I was to be married this winter,” he quipped, grinning so wide that his chapped bottom lip split open and began to bleed. Althea held her tongue, and turned her back to him, hiding how upset she was.

“I doubt you
will
settle down anytime soon,” Ambrose commented, seeing his wife’s response. “You are not certain where your bride is, are you?” Talvi’s brazen smirk melted away.

“He has it narrowed down to two continents,” Zaven answered for his cousin. Talvi licked his bottom lip before emptying his brandy glass in one large gulp, distracted by the bloody aftertaste. For not having a drink in months, he still felt uncomfortably sober. He knew Annika’s primary home was in America, but he also knew it was a very large country. Finding his new wife might take the better part of forever.

“You have had less to work with in the past, and still been victorious,” Runa pointed out, refilling Talvi’s glass.

“I assume you are not staying long,” his father said.

“Asbjorn and I are leaving in the morning. Finn has already promised to look after Ghassan in my absence, however long that may be,” Talvi said quietly, glancing sideways at his cousin, then his brother. He was dreading what was coming next.

“You’ve not even taken off your boots and you’re ready to leave again?” Althea asked, her voice shaking. “And how can Asbjorn part with Anthea and the children so soon? Couldn’t you at least wait until Yuri returns, and then search for Annika?”

“It’s not likely that Yuri will return anytime soon,” said Talvi, feeling an old, deep anger beginning to awaken. A wave of bitterness washed over him, and the comfort of finally being home was lost.

“But at least she is still alive,” Ambrose said, his voice breaking. Again, Finn and Talvi’s eyes met. There was so much to tell.

“No, Father,” Finn began to explain. “She walks, but not in the world of the living.”

Talvi caught a glimpse of his mother’s expression. Her mouth was a thin line across her face; her eyes were liquid pools of the darkest brown.