Dark Fey Collection

Chapter 5

The afternoon was warm and full of birdsong. The childfey she guarded were playing contentedly in the gamesyard and Ayla, along with her friend Nayina, was resting in the shade of a broad archway of flowering wisteria. The bordering forest encircling the gamesyard on all but one side was quiet on that unusually warm day, as if all its myriad inhabitants lay resting during the heat of the day. Its dark canopy spread invitingly cool, green shadows upon the ground at its feet, enticing even the most wary to step into its shadowed depths. Ayla and her friend sipped refreshing mint tea, fanned themselves absently with their translucent wings, and spoke of unimportant matters. The day was calm and quiet, filled with giggles and warmth, yet, unexpectedly, a fleeting shadow caught Ayla"s glimmering amber eyes.

Turning her head sharply in the direction of the forest, she could not disguise her distraction as she sought the elusive image at the border of the woodland. Nayina paused as well and turned to watch her friend with curiosity, fully aware of her gift of sight and the fact that she saw far more than the average Fey. When she looked, Nayina could see nothing except green shadow and shaggy undergrowth, but Ayla"s eyes were fixed on something and her mouth fell open in a gape.

“What do you see Ay?” Nayina inquired softly. Her friend shook herself and turned back to face her with a shrug and a smirk.

“Nothing, I guess,” she replied offhandedly, taking her glass in hand once more and bringing the cool beverage to her lips. “A shadow, a flutter, probably nothing more than a deer,” she offered more obligingly as she turned back to look once again upon the playing younglings. Nayina accepted this explanation of her odd behavior, but she did not fail to notice her friend"s repeatedly furtive glances toward the same direction of woodland where she had previously gazed so intently and she did not fail to see the puzzlement in her expressive amber eyes.

She said nothing more about it, but Ayla found it difficult to keep her thoughts on those whom she guarded. As the afternoon waned and parents came to collect their wee cherubs, Ayla and her friend bid each other good eventide and went toward their separate homes. Yet even as she traversed the sparkling alley of cedars, which led from the daylight nursery where she spent much of her time, and the diminutive cottage she called home on the borders of the village, she saw and heard little. Her thoughts were turned inward as she mulled over what she had seen or, at least, what she thought she had seen.

A Dark One.

Shaking her head, she scoffed aloud. It could not have been. The Dark Ones could not enter the realm of Jyndari during daylight, it was impossible, despite the fact that what she had seen had been immersed in the green shadows of the forest and protected from the rays of the sun by the duskiness of the woods. She had never heard of a Dark One being seen during the day tide, so it certainly could not have been one of the Reviled. She argued with her own thoughts, turning the possibilities over and over in her mind, shifting her opinion first in one direction and then another.

What she had seen, what she thought she saw, had been everything she ever imagined a Dark One to be: dreadful in appearance, menacing in action, demon-like, drawing shadows unto itself like smoke filling a room, but she had only seen a fleeting shadow. For one brief moment it lingered in the darkness of the undergrowth like a wolf, slinking secretly along its way. It could have been anything. Shuddering involuntarily, she shook her head again. Certainly it had been a wolf or a deer. Surely her fearful mind, filled with years of dark imagery and whispers of dread, had seen only the fleeting shadow of an animal in the dim light beneath the trees and had invented the remainder.

She spent her eventide alone, making certain to light candles in every room and out in her small garden, as well. She sat in silence and studied the writings contained within an aged, little book: the Dark Texts, wherein were contained the collected warnings about, signs of, and protections from the Reviled. Many times during her solitary read, her head snapped up at an unexpected sound or suspected movement, but each time it was only her fear that haunted her. At last, soothed by her research and her repeated self-assurances of her own silliness, she went to bed.

The balm of early summer advanced and Ayla kept her regular schedule of morning practices and learning at the Temple, luncheons with her closest and, in truth, her only friend, Nayina, and afternoons filled by the giggles and coos of her precious, entrusted ones. After those responsibilities were discharged, she would often attempt to join in the revelry of other youthful Fey who were closest to her in age, joining small gatherings or buoyant parties during the coolth of eventide, but very often she would return home afterward disappointed by her own inabilities to connect with or even understand the complexities of youthful jocularity and flirtation. Ever more often she felt doomed to a life alone with her fears and suspicions.

“I promise, you will like him,” Nayina coaxed her one steamy afternoon in the variable shade of their now green and flowerless Wisteria arch near the gamesyard. “He is just your age and he is quiet, like you.”

Ayla listened to her friend"s optimistic enticements, but grimaced. “Perfect. We shall spend the evening staring at our feet in utter silence.”

Her friend sighed impatiently at her cynical remark, but Ayla conceded. “I shall go. I must make a greater effort, I am completely aware of it. Besides, I have never actually been to Summerfest before. Must I dress in anything special or bring anything?”

Nayina could scarce contain her excitement. It was not very often her sheltered friend agreed to join in during celebration time, especially if it also meant entertaining the attentions of someone of the opposite s*x. “It is not a masque, just a party; an excuse to go out under the twilight, dance and make merry. If you want to bring something, bring some of your honey mead you are always drinking in private. It is made for sharing, after all.”

Ayla leaned closer and drew a secretive, diaphanous wing around them. “What is he like?” she queried with open interest. She had precious little experience with malefey. Few found her odd upbringing appealing and even fewer found her quiet, reserved nature tempting. Nayina smiled, because, although Ayla was a beautiful young Fey, she had never had a proper suitor and she felt this was unfair and unjustified. Ayla was extremely intelligent and interesting to talk to and she was as inclined to mirth and joviality as any youth. One simply had to gain her trust.

“Oh, he is so very nice, Ay, not conceited or arrogant in any way. He is a book-learner, like you. His parents sent him off to the Temple to study the Ceremonies of the Shifting Seasons and the Rites of Entrance and such as that. They dedicated him to be a Celebrant.”

Ayla listened intently, her thoughts fascinated by the possibilities this young Fey presented. Perhaps he would be the one to finally understand her. “And is he fair?” she whispered coyly, receiving in answer a fervent nod of approval from her eager friend.

“He is so fair! Blonde hair so bright it is nearly platinum, eyes so blue they are said to be the rarest shade of cerulean, and his wings! Oh Ay, you will simply melt when you see him!” They giggled in secretive delight and unfurled their wings to let in the trace of afternoon breeze. The remainder of the day was spent in frivolous chatter and Ayla was truly happy as she fluttered home to prepare for what promised to be her first pleasantly memorable gathering.

soThe vale selected for Summerfest was on the boundary of the village, set against the backdrop of Veryn Falls, a waterfall that plummeted from the peaks of the Ryvyn Mountains. Splashing from the heights hundreds of feet above, Veryn Falls" crystalline waters were cushioned by a multitude of moss-covered bastions and ivy-laden arches before it fell into an emeraldine pool at its base that stretched out its bountiful hand and flowed through the village, supplying water and life to all. The broad clearing around its precincts sparkled with hundreds of tiny lanterns strung through the surrounding forest canopy and was brightened by cheerful fires and glowing torches scattered throughout. Tables of food and vessels of drink were placed advantageously, musicians played the flute and the drum, lacewings flitted and darted, and the entire area was alive with palpable joy and anticipation.

Ayla and Nayina arrived somewhat later than expected, for even as excited as she was Ayla needed quite a few last minute reassurances before she agreed to set off with her friend. As they crossed the glowing alleys of cedars and beech, they talked about the young malefey they would meet that evening and the promise of flirtations they would have. Although their discourse was light, Ayla"s thoughts were troubled. She was aware of a presence pursuing them. It kept to the shadows deep in the forest and she perceived it more with her mind than her eyes, yet it was undeniably present. She said nothing to her friend, half convinced that it was her own nervousness that set her on edge and made her fear the darkness around them, but when they arrived, distracted by her unsettling musings, Ayla hovered shyly behind her amiable friend and listened, without joining in, to her vivacious banter.

“Ay, this is Mardan. Mardan, may I introduce my best friend, AylaYna.”

She had fallen into her own thoughts and had not been aware of his approach or of Nayina"s polite conversation with him, but suddenly and without fore notice Ayla found herself confronted by the most handsome young Fey she had ever seen. His blond hair, cropped unusually short and full of curls, was nearly white in the sparkling light around them and his eyes were indeed the most breathtaking sky-blue imaginable, stealing her breath away as well as her voice. She bowed awkwardly to him as he smiled and inclined to her, but she could think of nothing to say.

“She is a bit shy, but if you are patient, you will not be disappointed.” Nayina leaned nearer to him and spoke softly in Mardan"s delightfully pointed ear. He smiled graciously and reached for Ayla"s hand.

“I hate parties. Shall we go sit by the falls and watch the lacewings?” he suggested with conspicuous courtesy and, without waiting for her to either agree or disagree, led her off in the direction of Veryn Falls. Ayla glanced back at her friend with a raised brow of surprise and a delighted smile and Nayina turned away with a giggle of glee, hoping for the best.

Mardan"s hand was warm over her own and did not tremble as hers did with distinct nervousness. He said nothing as they swept over the party towards the softly "plashing waters of the falls and she stole the moment to inspect him with an inquisitive gaze. He wore festive clothes; a silken shirt of silvery-violet and leather pants of deep emerald green, the vivid colors accentuating the whiteness of his magnificent, white, feathered wings. Of course she knew all malefey had such powerful wings, sometimes twice as long as they were tall, but even with such knowledge she could not take her eyes from him; he was tall and strong of stature and simply breathtaking in his male beauty.

They alighted on the cool, damp moss surrounding the falls and she smiled at the refreshing touch of the viridian waters trapped within the plush carpet of green beneath her feet. Mardan looked down upon her and smiled as well, patiently waiting for her to breach the silence. She stammered uncertainly, then shook her head.

“I am sorry; I am simply not very good at conversation,” she apologized with a self-deprecating sigh, expecting him to make a concurring, derogatory remark, but he only shook his head and continued to stare down at her with an amiable grin.

“Neither am I really.” He had been told by Nayina that she was as funny and light-spirited as any other Fey, but her upbringing by gloomy theologians had made her almost unbearably cautious. He understood this aspect of the scholar"s impact on a young person, having experienced it firsthand himself, and was determined to draw her out in spite of her uncertainties.

Watching the reflected light of the falls dance over her coppery tresses and glimmer in her amber eyes, he tried not to notice her painfully inept flirting ability. She was lovely; there could be no denying the fact, and he did not mind her reserved nature, as it was far more agreeable than the overzealous bubblings and blatherings of some. Slender and delicately graced, her ivory complexion hinted at the color of the palest rose; her lacy, gossamer wings were alluringly elegant and her mannerisms were demure and poised.

“Great, we can sit in silence and stare at our feet,” she murmured in a rueful jest, anticipating that at any moment he would excuse himself from her disagreeable company, but her sarcasm made him laugh and the sound melted her heart. She glanced up at him in surprise and then smiled dimly.

“I would have no qualms about staring at your feet,” he hinted cautiously, seeking any measure of reassurance that she was pleased by his attention and he was not disappointed. She grasped his hand more securely and turned a coy shoulder to him, her wings fluttering in her delight and this simple indication of her contentment was all he needed.

They walked for a long while around the emeraldine pool at the base of the falls and then sat on a nearby bench of marble and rose-quartz stone, watching the lacewings dart and flutter in the sparkling light. He spoke softly to her of his training at the Temple and his parent"s hopes that he would become a Celebrant, a high priest of ceremonies. She shared her own unusual upbringing. She made little mention of her uniquely special abilities, but explained her specific training in relation to the Dark Ones in preparation of her life as a Guardian.

They spoke softly; they sat closely, and they shared the eventide quietly as the revelry went on without them. His touch became lighter, more captivating, and her smiles grew more blushing and breathless. The eventide"s breezes were cooler than was comfortable so near to the falls, but they were reluctant to leave such pleasing surroundings so he sheltered her from the chill with his broad, arched wings attentively. Several times, when silence fell between them, he gazed down upon her ardently and had to force himself back into conversation.

In what seemed like moments the midnight horns called to all, announcing the end of the day and the beginning of night and she knew, as the lights faded, safety indoors was essential. Could it be possible they had spent hours in each other"s company rather than minutes? She gazed up at him and sighed.

“We must go,” she said with evident disappointment in her voice. It was the last thing in the world she wished to do. Mardan stood and took her by both hands, returning her gaze with a warm smile.

“I shall not dispute that which you know so well; I shall only point out that such a pronouncement makes me exceedingly sad,” he said in a heavy tone and she closed her eyes, awash in emotions utterly unfamiliar to her.

“You are so poetic,” she sighed under her breath, almost unaware of the fact that she had actually spoken the words aloud and he smiled even more affectionately at her.

“May I have the honor of escorting you to your door?” he asked quietly and she nodded without a sound. They left the party together and crossed the alleyways with deliberate slowness, loathe to part from each other. When they reached her small cottage he circled above with her, unwilling for their evening to end in spite of the fact that everywhere lanterns were burning low and fires were being extinguished. He glanced down upon her unassuming cote and private little garden lined with herbs and edible flowers, filled with birdhouses and lanterns that were a picture of simplicity and the smile that had turned the corners of his handsome mouth all evening grew broader.

They alighted by the front door at last and he turned to capture her in his encircling wings before she could step back. He drew her hands, which he had scarcely released all evening, closer to his broad chest, nearer to his heart so she might feel it pounding, and gazed down upon her with all the warmth he felt glimmering in his brilliant eyes. She gasped at his close embrace and telling stare. She was foreign to love, but she did not pull away from him.

“I have a confession to make, Ayla.”

She gazed up at him curiously.

“I had a far more pleasant evening tonight than I anticipated.” His honesty brought a smile and a blush to her face.

“As did I, Mardan; I was so afraid…” her voice trailed off as he raised her hands to his lips and kissed her fingers softly. Her head spun with dizzying sensations at the warm touch of his mouth, her lashes fluttered and her vigilance faltered. Drawing her closer with his hands as well as his embracing wings, he leaned nearer to kiss her gently upon her lips. She froze at the unfamiliar contact, then melted.

His kiss lingered, tantalizing her for long, breathless moments, but it id not deepen. He kissed her lips, then traced the delicate contours of her cheeks and nose, teasing the sensitive pulse rushing at her temples, tempting her to lean back into his arms so he could whisper soft kisses over the arch of her neck. She shuddered with pleasure and a sigh rushed from her lips. Pausing, he drew back and breathed deeply, smiling at her after a moment of profound concentration to regain control over his own hammering senses. They stared at each other.

“I should like to see you again, AylaYna, very much so,” he said in a heavy tone and she beamed at him, overjoyed.