Dark Fey Collection

Chapter 7

Of course, Ayla could not maintain her anger toward Mardan for long, it was as impossible as refusing to breathe, but, almost imperceptibly, her uncertainty about him began to grow. Slowly, like twilight fading into a moonlit night, she began to doubt the sincerity of his feelings for her. More and more frequently she struggled with the thoughts that he was like all the others, that he held her unusual abilities suspect and that he would eventually grow tired or bored of her, break her heart, and move on. Long nights passed as she tossed and turned in tormented dismay; endless afternoons dragged on like years as she waited for him to visit her or write to her when he was away at the Temple; dark, torturous thoughts haunted her mind, compelling her to make the first move and end things before she could be hurt.

And all the while, the presence of her tormentor haunted her.

“I saw him, Nayina,” she confessed one rainy afternoon as they sat quietly watching the little ones in the nursery garden. Certain immediately of whom she spoke without needing to clarify, Nayina jumped in surprise.

“When? Where? What does he look like? Is he handsome? Did you talk to him? Who is he?” Her questions tumbled out in a rush, as if she had been holding them back for months and only now could finally ask them. Ayla shook her head.

“I saw him a few weeks ago. It was the morning Mardan and I fought. He was following me through the pear grove and I turned suddenly and saw him, but only for a moment.”

“Did you recognize him?”

Ayla shook her head. “I have never seen anyone like him before.” She described the brief vision she had of his appearance and Nayina smiled teasingly.

“No wonder you fought with Mardan!” she implied mischievously, but Ayla was not amused. His visits had become too frequent and he remained silently and invisibly watching her for longer and longer periods of time.

“Mardan and I fought because he thinks I am odd, just as everyone else does and I finally realized it!” she snapped, jumping up from their lounging place to stalk away from her friend towards a nearby, indoor brook that babbled and tumbled through the garden. Nayina gazed after her in surprise, fluttering after her to alight nearby.

“You of all people ought to know exactly and without any shred of doubt how Mardan truly feels about you,” she quipped with a hint of irritation. Ayla knew she spoke the truth, but for some reason beyond her own comprehension, her impression of Mardan"s affection had become confused by her own fears and doubts. She simply was no longer sure and she could not ascertain the truth from him, either by sense or by word. As a Celebrant, he was separate, aloof, and far more difficult to read than many. Shaking her head, she redirected their conversation back to him.

him“He did not talk to me, although I tried to make him. He just watched me. It is all the time now, Nayina, and I do not know what to do about it.”

Her friend did everything she could to temper her anxiety at hearing this admission before speaking. She knew Ayla could easily misinterpret any measure of concern in her present state of mind. “All the time?”

“Nearly, he never talks to me; he never comes out of the shadows; he is just there, watching and listening.”

Nayina contemplated the few facts she knew and then gasped. “Ay, is he a Dark One?” she breathed warily, her voice a whisper in case, even now, he observed them. Ayla winced, even though the thought had already occurred to her a hundred times. She turned secretively toward her friend and shook her head.

he“Everything I have ever been taught about the Dark Fey does not apply to him, Nay, except that he remains hidden in shadow. He has not tried to hurt me. He has not tried to take any of the children I guard. He has not opened any portals. He is just there. I cannot explain why, but I certainly cannot call him Reviled for that.”

Nayina straightened and spoke more authoritatively. “This has gone on long enough. I remember the first time you saw him in the gamesyard and that was months ago. You need to tell someone other than me. You need to at least tell Mardan.”

At the mention of Mardan"s name Ayla cringed and shook her head.“He already thinks I am peculiar, just like everyone else, but if I told him that some strange malefey has been following me around and watching me for months and I have done nothing about it, he will surely end things. Even worse, he could bring the Elders into the matter and I would be a prisoner again like I was all those years. I just cannot tell him Nayina, and you must promise me that you will not tell him either!”

For many long weeks Nayina tried to convince her friend of her error of judgment; that Mardan no more thought she was odd than she did, but her success was limited. Too many years of scrutiny had come before. Ayla knew only too well that she was isolated and set apart from her fellow Fey and this knowledge had become a thorn, forever piercing her perceptions. There was little anyone could do now to change that. Ayla struggled with her insecurity daily, whether it related to Mardan specifically or everyone in the village in general. Some days she had very little doubt in her mind of his fondness for her and enjoyed their growing affection immensely; other days it was all she could do to trust even a single word from his mouth.

Ayla never spoke about her misgivings with Mardan. She was fearful of his reaction to that truth and she was unwilling to worsen the situation by verbalizing her doubts. She believed, as most Fey did, that words had nearly limitless power once spoken and believed. She refused to give her foolish inclinations such an advantage over her. Yet, although she made a conscious effort every day to keep her thoughts aligned with the Light, her uncertainties ultimately won out.

As the seasons shifted from autumn to early winter and a shroud of cold darkness began to fall upon the beautiful village of Hwyndarin, the Fey gathered together for one final celebration of color and brightness. They dressed in glittering, bejeweled costumes; decorated their homes with sparkling lanterns carved out of hallowed gourds; carved wooden and pumpkin decorations; filled their porches and gardens with sweet baked treats and sugary indulgences for any passerby to enjoy, and played a multitude of musical instruments in a discordant symphony of joyful sound. Parading along the avenues from home to home in dancing, fluttering, gleeful revelry, Fey of all ages enjoyed the company of their friends and family while eating and drinking the sweet temptations of the season and at the end of the evening"s festivities all Fey, young and old, joined together to venerate the passing of the Season of Light.

They gathered in the Clearing of the Stars, where the forest canopy contracted and one could gaze up, out of the forest, into the glittering night sky enchanted by the glowing moon and the sparkling stars overhead. Together, they began the incantation of the changing seasons led by their village Celebrant, their voices subdued and solemn after a full day of laughing and singing. They paced through the intricate dance which marked the ending of the growing and gathering seasons and the beginning of the season of cold darkness with austerity. Bowing, pausing, stepping, clapping, pausing, clasping hands, passing, turning, pausing, releasing, taking to wing, alighting and repeating until the midnight horns rang through the clear, cold night air. The sharp tones signaled more than just the ending of the day; they heralded a somberness that descended upon the village as silently as the first winter snow.

No longer would the days be warm and bright; they would be cold and bleak. No longer would the shushing of emeraldine leaves and the luscious scent of flowers fill the air; there would be only the creaking and groaning of barren branches in the icy gales of winter. No longer would the songs of thrush and cicada ring through the canopy overhead; there would only be silence and the scrunching of snow underfoot. Many months would pass in the uninviting coldness of winter and many Fey would not venture out into the bleakness any longer than their responsibilities required.

Ayla and Mardan, along with Nayina and her companion Reydan, had shared the pleasantries of the evening together. Dressed in complimentary fashion wearing vivid silks, broad hats with bright plumes, jingling bells upon their ankles and trailing streamers from their wings, they had enjoyed their portrayal of jesters completely. Yet now, after the horns sounded, they removed their bells and the instruments that had played all evening fell silent as the Fey returned to their homes in quiet introspection. Bidding their friends a hushed good eventide, Ayla and Mardan turned towards her small cote upon the fringes of the village and Ayla once again felt her isolation. How long would she suffer her loneliness? How long would she remain an outsider among her own people?

Mardan could easily sense the shift in her spirits and when they reached her door, he paused to draw her close in a warming embrace. Long they stood in each other"s arms and Mardan did not confuse the pure sentiment of the moment by bending to kiss her, in spite of the hammering of his heart. Rather, he stood quietly and simply held her, completely aware of the trembles coursing through her and uncertain as to their cause or cure. She did not speak, but clung to him like a child in a raging tempest who is frightened by the storm around her and, after many long moments, he pulled away from her.

“Are you alright, Ay?” he asked softly, afraid that his genuine concern might light the increasingly short fuse of her temper, but, instead of becoming irritated, she sighed bitterly and brushed a trail of tears from her cheeks.

“No,” she replied miserably. Mardan"s concern intensified and he took her small hands in his own.

“Ay, I do not want to upset you and I do not want to argue with you again, but I know something has been troubling you these past weeks. Can we not talk about whatever it is? If I am doing something to offend or displease you, I cannot alter it unless I know what it might be?” He spoke softly and to his surprise, she burst into tears and flung her arms about his shoulders, burying her sadness in his comforting embrace. Tenderly, and without regard to the hour, he led her inside her cottage and closed the door behind them.

Vigilant to refresh the porch lantern with oil and then the many small lamps around her home, he returned to her side in the small parlor only after seeing to these vital tasks, sat down beside her upon the roll-back settee, and encouraged her to tell him what was upsetting her so prodigiously. She tried to contain her emotion so she could speak plainly, but to her dismay she realized she could sense his presence.

his“Oh, not now,” she breathed in exasperation, utterly confounding Mardan, who turned his head to one side and stared at her with a furrowed expression, bewildered.

“What have I done,” he asked uncertainly, but Ayla shook her head.

“It is not you, Mardan. You have done nothing wrong. I simply…” she struggled to find the words, but they eluded her. Distracted by the sensation that he was unusually close and desperate to be alone in order to discover his intent at long last, she attempted to bounce to her feet, but Mardan caught her wrist and refused to permit her to escape.

he“Then why do you treat me this way?” His tone betrayed the weeks of frustration he had suffered while attempting to be patient and understanding. She turned to look at him sadly.

“Mardan, I am sorry, truly I am, but perhaps what everyone says about me is true: perhaps I am strange,” she explained with resignation, but he shook his head.

am“I do not think you are strange. I think you are keeping something from me. I do not know how to prove that you can trust me, but you can, Ayla.”

She gazed at him thoughtfully. Should she tell him of her tormentor? Would he understand her reasons for tolerating the long months of his visits? Could their relationship survive such a disturbing revelation? She hoped it might, but she was not given time to deliberate further.

his“Ayla.”

AylaFor one brief, horrifying second Ayla heard a whisper that made her jump to her feet, wrench her arm from Mardan"s steady grasp and spin round in desperation seeking the source of the sound she had just heard. Mardan watched her transfixed, astonished beyond words by her irrational behavior, but she could not bring herself to stop. The whisper had been so soft, but she had heard it. He had clearly spoken her name.

He“Did you hear that?” she turned and asked Mardan abruptly. He got to his feet slowly, perplexed as well as curious.

“What did you hear?”

Ayla turned back to gaze out the parlor window, stretching her senses forward like a fisherman casting a net into dark waters. He was there, just beyond the margins of the forest; yet he had whispered her name and she had heard it.

He“Did you not hear it?”

“Hear what, Ay?”

“My name. It was a whisper, but it was my name, I am sure of it,” she exclaimed hurriedly, heedless of how peculiar such a statement sounded. Mardan stood quietly a moment, endeavoring to fathom her suggestion. If she had heard a whisper, then the speaker should have been within the house, within that very room, but she was staring out the window toward the forest. Mardan stepped closer.

“Someone whispered your name from outside?” he asked, clearly puzzled, however when she spun around on her heel to rebuke his disbelief he reiterated swiftly. “Ay, I did not hear anything, but if you heard a whisper, surely it did not come from outside.” His attempt to illustrate her actions in some logical context made her pause. Of course, he was correct. She realized how ridiculous she appeared, but she only wanted to seek answers to her many questions about him before he disappeared again.

him“I must have sensed it,” she muttered, half to herself. Mardan raised an eyebrow at this and shook his head, but said nothing more; her conduct simply too baffling to abide.

“You heard nothing?” she asked again, ceasing her restless pacing to gaze up at him, realizing at last how he stared at her with a completely confounded expression. Raising her hands to mollify his obvious irritation, she retraced her steps to him, shook her head and drew a deep breath before delving into a long withheld explanation. “I realize how crazy I must sound.”

He did not deny it.

“But I have not told you about all of my abilities, mostly because I was afraid you, just as everyone else, would think I am odd.”

all“Ay, you say that all the time, but I have never heard anyone say anything against you.” Mardan contradicted her, but she barely heard him.

“I was chosen to be educated as a Guardian because of my unique abilities; I can perceive truth from lies without hearing a single word; I can ease another"s suffering through empathic contact, and I have highly attuned senses far beyond the normal ranges.”

Mardan listened with curiosity, but he did not interrupt her progress with the multitude of questions erupting in his mind.

“For several months now I have been aware of a presence, a presence that is not always with me, but comes and goes of its own accord, yet unfailingly returns again and again. I sense when he is present and when he is gone and, although I cannot make him speak to me to tell me why he should be here at all, I have been waiting, trying to determine his purpose and decide upon a proper course of action. Because I was so uncertain, I only spoke to Nayina about it.” She fell silent and watched closely as Mardan absorbed all she had just revealed, certain he would shake his head, utter some cruel reference at her expense and take his leave of her, but he only stood quietly and gazed back at her. After several protracted moments, he broke the silence with a single question.

“A presence?”

She nodded.

“A male presence?”

maleShe hesitated at his specification, but agreed again.

“A male presence that will not divulge his purpose for intruding upon your privacy, yet whom you allow to continue to do so without inquiry?”

Ayla swallowed hard at this further clarification, but agreed once again. “I know that sounds,” she tried to explain herself further, but Mardan"s jaw tightened and his brilliant eyes narrowed.

“Do you know how that sounds?” He rebuked her with a tone she had never heard in his sweet tenor voice before and she cringed.

Do“It sounds crazy, which is why I have not told anyone. Everyone thinks I am crazy enough,” she spat defensively, but he ignored her justification.

“It sounds very dangerous to me, Ayla.” His use of her full name and the soft tone with which he made his statement made her check the hateful thoughts suddenly swirling in her mind and brought her gaze to his. “Who can say what his intentions are? And, Ay, truly, no one thinks you are crazy.”

She stared at him, mystified. She had anticipated that he would be angry or, perhaps even jealous, but she never expected him to be, first and foremost, concerned with her welfare.

“I was trying to discover what his intentions are by reading him,” she said softly. Mardan insisted that she explain what she meant, yet when she had given him a description of the extraordinary ability she possessed he stepped back from her with a darkening expression.

“You have spent months attempting to "read" this trespassing, inexplicable stranger, but you mistrust me and fail to confide anything in me when I am here, in the flesh, every day; neither hiding my intentions nor seeking to manipulate you?”

Ayla stared at him, horrified by his clarification of the truth. Hastily, she attempted to explain that she had never quite thought of it that way. She had only hoped to not jump to any unfair conclusions about him that might lead him into harm or under scrutiny. She knew how uncomfortable it felt to be analyzed, particularly by the Elders, and she never wished anyone to undergo such an ordeal, regardless of their actions. He had never harmed her or given her any indication that he would. She was careful to discern as much through her senses each time she became aware of him and had she felt in any way threatened she would have told someone immediately.

himHeMardan"s opinion, however, could not be swayed, in spite of her verifications that she had used due caution in dealing with the stranger. He felt betrayed by her lack of trust in him, particularly in light of so serious a situation, and he could not be convinced that she would take him into her confidence either now or in the future. His impression of their relationship had been shattered and he told her as much with as even a tone as he could manage while constraining his anger before he turned toward the door.

“Mardan, I am so sorry!” she cried from her heart and he paused and turned back to gaze at her sorrowfully before he pulled the door open and went out into the dimness of the cool night. Ayla watched him go from the empty portal, her heart breaking into a thousand pieces of ice, but she could not blame him for feeling betrayed and angry. She recognized her mistake, though it came too late and there was, now, no way to set things to rights.