Chapter 42 Faith
Faith
I’d never get over how the fae borders worked.
There we stood less than a pace away from the human/autumn border, and yet, to the naked eye, it looked as if my homeland continued to the horizons—the snow-capped Nettorian Mountains to the north, the rolling hills of the Sudinar region to the south, and directly ahead of us, the Sheylic Plains to the east. Only, I knew the second we stepped past the barrier that the heavy snow of the plains would be replaced with damp earth littered by discarded leaves and the undeniable sweet scent of autumn.
I wondered if a human not touched by magic or the fates continued walking, if they would indeed find the grasslands to the east—as if the fae realm never existed—or if they’d find some reason to turn back.
“Nyleeria?” Sidrick asked, pulling me from my musings.
I shook the thought away. “Sorry,” I said, knowing they were waiting on me.
“It’s okay if you need a moment,” Tarrin said.
“No. I’m good, really,” I assured them. “Just got lost in my thoughts for a moment.” I didn’t miss the glance Artton and Kaelun shared, the latter obviously using his unara to read my emotions to confirm my truth. “Everyone good to go?” I asked.
I wouldn’t say they were nervous, but it was clear as they nodded that three commanders had slipped into their roles the second I’d asked the question. While I didn’t think Kaelun truly capable of looking like a soldier, he too had a more serious aura about him.
“All right.” I stepped up to the barrier which I could feel more than see. “Let’s do this.”
The instant I raised my hands Sidrick’s unara shielded us, the sensation similar to the sound barrier Amos had trapped me in, albeit less oppressive. I shivered from the memory, then steeling myself, I pressed my palms against Wymond’s border.
When I’d pushed through to reach Tarrin, I’d been panicked and hadn’t really paid any mind to how it felt—other than resistant.
Even still, it was different this time. Almost…
thicker, if a magical barrier could be such a thing.
Closing my eyes, I breathed in slow, rhythmic breaths, trying to link to the essence of the magic whose sole purpose was to keep us out.
Like I’d done with the Mother countless times, I connected with the primordial part of me that had created all things—the very essence of what stood between me and the fae realm.
As I slipped deeper into the side of myself that was ancient and yet current, something shifted. It was as if the magic of the barrier turned its gaze to me, like I’d been staring into the starry sky one moment, only for the stars to stare back at me the next.
Hello, my children, the spark deep within me seemed to call. The magic vibrated under my fingertips in what could only be described as excitement. My hands began to slip through the border, like ice slowly slushing beneath my palms—and then, the ice vanished.
I could no longer discern where I ended and the magic began, and while deep down the feeling was disconcerting, what mattered was that I was now in control—the experience wholly different than our last encounter.
Opening my eyes, I willed the border to create an opening, and it obliged my request without hesitation. “It’s ready,” I said.
When no one moved, I glanced at my companions, who looked at me with awe so openly it bordered on dumbstruck. “Guys?” I prodded.
Artton blinked as if coming back to himself. “Right,” he said, clearing his throat, “the three of you go through and make sure it’s clear. Spark and I will follow.”
Without issue, the others ducked their heads one at a time as they stepped into the Autumn Court. A moment later, a rock landed in the snow.
“That’s our signal,” Artton said.
I nodded, and the two of us joined our companions.
The part of me that was still magically connected to the border felt it close behind us once we were through and at a safe distance away.
Settled, my eyes fluttered shut as the golden late-autumn sun caressed my skin with its soft warmth against the nip of frost in the air.
Stars, I missed having seasons. Don’t get me wrong, there were advantages to perpetual summer, but the human side of me that had grown up with seasons craved Lumnara’s cyclical nature.
There’s something to be said about the slower cadence of autumn and winter that makes one crave a good book, warm blanket, and a dancing fire.
“Do you know where we are relative to Wymond’s palace?” Artton asked, and I didn’t have to open my eyes to know he was talking to Tarrin. Though cordial, he’d never use that tone with those he considered family.
Stepping out of my reverence, I opened my eyes and joined the others.
Tarrin hadn’t answered; instead, he was taking in his surroundings as if he were tracking game.
Kneeling, the dampness from the sodden ground seeped into the fabric of his pants as his left knee rested upon it.
Tarrin didn’t seem to mind as his hands dug past the deep, discarded foliage of muted reds and yellows.
The golden hues of this court softened his hard lines while accentuating his teak eyes.
“The river,” he finally said, turning his focus to Sidrick. “Can you hear it?”
The summer fae nodded, and I cursed myself for not having as good of a command of my fae senses.
“How far out would you say it is, and in what direction is it closest?” I had to give it to Tarrin—it was smart relying on our—or I guess their—heightened abilities.
It was then that I noticed the mutual respect they’d fostered during their long hours of training to get him ready for this.
I’d never put any mind into their sessions, now I wondered how much they’d actually talked when they weren’t trying to kill each other with swords.
“At the speed it took us to get here, half a day, but that was in the snow. So three, four hours max,” Sidrick answered and glanced to Artton, who nodded in agreement.
“That’s what I thought,” Tarrin said, dusting his hands off as he stood up.
“We’re actually closer than anticipated, which means our maps were wrong or something about the magic of your land displaces human realm landmarks.
Either way, we’re about two hard days of walking, or three if we pace, from the palace.
We could follow the border today. The land is flat but exposed.
Alternatively, we can cut into the forest, but this close to the river”—he shook his head—"we’re asking for trouble.
My advice is that we head due north along the border, and cut inland about an hour before dusk, which will take us to a secluded cave that I’ve never seen anyone else around. "
“Why is it unpatrolled?” Sidrick asked.
“I suspect it’s because your kind tend valen over walking, so unless a patrol was explicitly asked to walk the region, we should be safe.
Wymond and Thaddeus are paranoid, but at a closer radius to the palace.
Besides, they tend to lean on the High Lord’s magic to sense intruders—which is lazy if you ask me. ”
“Can’t argue with you there,” Artton mused, and my jaw wasn’t the only one to drop to the ground. “What?” he said in defense. “I don’t like who he is as a person; doesn’t mean he’s not a good tactician.”
“Careful, Artton, that sounded a lot like a compliment,” I said, parroting the words I’d thrown his way when he’d given me my first compliment.
He shook his head sending his eyes skyward, but he’d never be able to convince me that he hadn’t smirked as he turned away and walked northward without another word.
Tarrin was right—the path we took was exposed but easy to navigate.
As if they’d discussed it before we’d left summer, we were now in a kind of loose diamond formation with me at the center.
Artton was leading with Sidrick at my back, and I was flanked by Kaelun to my left and Tarrin to my right—no doubt because it was my stronger side, and while he was very good with a sword, the truth was that he was human, and his lack of magic made him the weakest of them to protect me—should it come to that.
A couple of hours in, the magical threads of elemental magic flickered in and out of focus unbidden, like a hunter signaling their partner with a piece of looking glass by reflecting the sun.
“Hi there,” I whispered under my breath, and the world became alight with so many threads I couldn’t see past them and had to stop walking.
“What is it?” Sidrick asked, almost running into me.
“Her access to elementals has been restored,” Kaelun answered to my left, though I still couldn’t see him through the strands.
“Just like that?” Artton asked, his voice close in front.
“That’s not normal?” Tarrin said.
“Kaelun,” I said, reaching for him blindly as I tried to stay calm from my lack of sight.
The magic was beautiful, but what if I couldn’t see past it?
What if there was something wrong? “I can’t see.
” My hand connected with his bare forearm—the magical leathers having receded their sleeves as the day warmed.
“I can’t see,” I said again, this time more panicked.
Kaelun didn’t answer; instead, he took a deep breath and relaxed. A heartbeat later, the magic of his unara was like mist along my bare skin. “Ah. I see,” he said, and something in his tone soothed me enough to stop my panic from taking over. “It’s really quite beautiful.”
“Kaelun, please.”
“Sorry,” he said. “Look for a golden thread—it will be slightly thicker than the rest.”
I searched frantically through the infinite threads, but it was like trying to read the page beneath the current one, the thin parchment obscuring them. “I can’t see it, Kaelun,” I said, my voice shaking.
“It’s okay, Lady Nyleeria. You’re safe. It’s just, you’ve never had access to elemental magic in the Autumn Court, so right now you’re attuning to the wrong court, which happens for us naturally. I’m assuming it’s because you were tapped, and you used arcane magic to cross over.”
“How do I fix it?”
“If you can’t see it, then feel for the one that vibrates differently from the rest—like an instrument that’s out of tune.”
It didn’t take long before I felt exactly that. “Now what?” I breathed.
“Now, you pluck it in your mind’s eye as if you were summoning an element.”
Taking a breath, I reached for the vibration and plucked it. Every thread turned a stunning coppery gold that shimmered like the sun dancing on a lake before they all disappeared and I could see again. “Stars,” I said, putting a hand on my chest. “That was—”
“—intense,” Kaelun answered for me, a bright smile on his face.
“Yeah.” I chuckled. “Will that happen again?”
“No.” He shook his head. “You’re good to go and should be able to wield normally.”
I looked up at Artton, silently asking for permission to summon. He nodded, his lake-blue eyes drowning in relief.
As promised, without issue all four elements billowed above my right palm one after another, and I was finally able to take a breath.
The afternoon sun abandoned us much earlier than I’d become accustomed to, and I was grateful we reached the cave shortly after our breaths began to billow in the cloudless, crisp night air.
Like in the Summer Court, Kaleatia was absent, though the other moons offered more than enough light to aid Tarrin as he led us during the last leg.
When we arrived, Sidrick and Tarrin went to hunt while Kaelun stood guard at the mouth of the cave.
The entrance was narrow enough that I was surprised Tarrin ever attempted entering with his large frame.
Artton and I had to shuffle sideways for twenty paces or so before the neck opened up into a beautiful cavern that was home to an underground spring.
Kneeling over the tiny stream, I washed my arms off then splashed my face, the cool fresh liquid washing off the last few days.
“You know,” Artton said from behind me as he laid our bedrolls around the smokeless magical fire he’d conjured, “you realize you can summon water now that we’re on fae lands, you don’t have to cower over a dribbling stream to wash yourself.”
I splashed my face again, then cupped my hands together and let them fill with water before bringing it up and drinking it down. Standing, I flicked my hands before wiping them on my pants as I joined him by the fire. “Old habit, I guess. Besides, it doesn’t taste the same.”
Laying out the last bedroll, he side-eyed me. “You mean it doesn’t taste like sentiment and decaying leaves?” he quipped.
“Ha. Ha.”
Smirking, he sat on the bedroll beside me. “Do you miss it?” he asked, and my brows furrowed not understanding his question. “Being human, I mean.”
“Oh,” I said, taken aback. “I’m not sure.” I shrugged. “I haven’t really thought about it. Though I’d be lying if I said my heart doesn’t lust for the days when a blade was just a blade and a fire was made the good-old-fashioned way.”
A sad smile caressed his mouth, but he didn’t press further allowing us to slip into our thoughts.
“Artton?” I asked after long minutes.
“What is it, Spark?”
“What if I’m not what you all need me to be? What if we’d all be better if we let one of you take the spark? What if—”
“Stop,” he said, cutting me off, and it was an effort not to look away from the swirling intensity of his azure eyes.
“Stop questioning if you’re meant to be the spark—if you’re good enough.
It’s insulting to the ancients that sacrificed everything to preserve our essence.
You act as if you’re Nyleeria, and it is some sort of parasite that can just be taken out and passed to another.
Have you ever taken a moment to think about why it would’ve killed you if Thaddeus succeeded? ”
I shook my head, and he gave me a hard look that had me swallowing, the sound almost too loud in the empty cavern.
Leaning in, he said with great gentility, “Don’t you get it?
Don’t you understand why I call you Spark?
You’re not Nyleeria who shares her life with a magical entity.
You are the spark. Your very being—your soul—is the spark. Not Nyleeria.
“Your human body, your human identity—gods even your fae body—are ephemeral. When you talk of giving away the spark, what you’re actually saying is that you’re willing to give up your soul. And that, even if it were possible, is something none of us should ever give away. No matter what.”
My mouth went dry as words failed me. It wasn’t even what he said—stars knew I’d had moments when I’d felt that truth—it was the conviction in which he spoke about the ancients.
About me. About my soul. His truth held a gravitas to it, as if the ancients themselves had bestowed this knowledge on him.
I wondered what it would be like to have that kind of conviction or, I supposed, that kind of faith.