Chapter 7 Faron
FARON
R ain came at midday, sudden and heavy. Faron and Iris huddled underneath a rare sycamore tree growing in the tall grass fields surrounding the road, attempting to wait out the storm, but after several hours, it was clear there would be no break anytime soon.
“It looks like we are sleeping under the stars tonight,” Faron told Iris.
The coyote whined at him, and he could practically hear her stomach rumble.
He sat with his back against the sycamore, and when he closed his eyes, it did not take long to sense the groundhogs in the nearby fields.
He stretched radiance toward one, stirring it from its lazy slumber and filling it with a sudden, panicked need to exit its burrow.
“That way,” Faron said, opening his eyes and pointing. “If you don’t mind a bit of mud, you will find your prey. I’ll prepare a fire while you hunt.”
Iris returned minutes later with the bleeding groundhog in her mouth. She plopped it down beside the fire he’d built in the shade of the tree, positioned so the thick trunk blocked the wind. Faron hovered over that fire protectively, using his coat to guard against the occasional raindrops.
“I knew you could do it,” he said, grinning at her. The coyote’s eyes narrowed, and she nudged the groundhog’s body with her nose.
“Fine, yes, I helped a little. Just enough to make the creature stir and race about. You did the actual hunting.”
He’d thought Iris unhappy with the nature of the hunt, but then she curled around behind him and shook to splatter him with a massive spray of water from her fur.
“Fine,” he said, drawing a knife while grabbing the groundhog. “Next time, if the weather is poor, I’ll make our dinner come to us and spare you the rain.”
Iris plopped down beside the fire, its light flickering across her fur, and closed her eyes. There was no need to wake her once the groundhog was properly butchered and cooked. The smell was enough.
Faron made sure she got the larger portion.
The rain ended come nightfall, far too late to do any traveling.
Faron appreciated the slowly growing gaps in the clouds nonetheless.
They allowed the stars to shine through, lighting up the fields.
The grass rolled like ocean waves in the wind, a beautiful sight to behold.
He gently stroked Iris’s fur as she slept contentedly beside him, and he let the hours pass. Sleep would come in time, but not yet.
Calluna was calling for him.
The heavy rains meant the dirt road cutting the little kingdom of Argylle north to south was an ankle-breaking mess.
Faron abandoned his tree, careful not to rouse Iris, and then returned to that road.
He walked among the puddles, his boots sinking into the mud.
He looked into them, seeing his tired face, his brown coat, and the reflection of the clouded sky above.
Looked, until one was brightly lit by a clear field of stars, and it was not his face that looked back, but what appeared to be a girl with raven hair and deeply freckled nose and cheeks.
Her eyes were black and silver, shimmering with radiance.
Stars brighter and clearer than the ones in the sky above shone like diamonds within her irises.
“You’re back,” Calluna said. Her voice emerged slightly muffled from the water, as if she lurked just underneath the surface. “I’m… I’m happy you’re back.”
The angle to her visage was strange, as if she were actually peering down at him.
It was the nature of her communication. Somewhere across the breadth of Kaus, Calluna huddled over still water.
Ponds were her favorite choice, and he thought he saw little reeds blowing against her dark dress.
It needn’t be natural formations, though.
She could seek him out with a bucket and some sewage, if she must.
“You don’t sound all that happy,” Faron said, and he smiled at her. “I pray the years have been kind to you.”
Calluna leaned closer to the water’s surface. She was sitting with her legs tucked against her chest and her arms wrapped around her shins. Her chin rested atop her knees.
“The years have been years,” she said. “Long and lonely, as they always are.”
Faron crouched before the puddle and studied his little sister’s mannerisms, the way she picked at her dress, and how she refused to return his gaze.
“You’re nervous,” he said.
“No, I’m not.”
“You are a terrible liar, Calluna. Always have been.”
He grinned at her, trying to elevate her mood. She bit her lower lip, then looked away.
“Do the clothes fit you well?”
“Better than one could hope,” Faron said, accepting her change of subject without protest. He leaned back a little to better show off his outfit.
“The coat in particular is very nice. I’m impressed, the quality is much improved over these past decades.
And it’s worlds better than the fur coats they used to wear. Do you remember them?”
“I do,” she said, and softly smiled. “The eastern kingdoms were atrocious, everyone covered in fur and fuzz and coats so heavy they looked like fat little animals. Thank the stars they’ve gotten better at spinning wool fibers. Now everyone wants to look sleek and long.”
“Then I must enjoy it while I can!” Faron said, well aware that human fashion would forever ebb and flow, with the occasional dips into truly wild tributaries. His grin settled into a soft smile. Her nervousness worried him, and he had a suspicion he knew the cause.
“So how is Eder?” he asked.
Calluna flinched as if struck.
“Good, he’s good,” she said, refusing to meet his eye. “Keeping himself busy studying the skies.”
Faron crossed his arms. “What did I say about your lying?”
Her gaze snapped in his direction. Her features hardened, her true strength washing away her shy demeanor.
“Then you know. Who told you? Was it Sariel?”
“It was.”
“I should have known. Don’t trust him, Faron. Don’t ever trust him. He… he’s bitter, he’s angry, and he’s ashamed of his own mistakes. Whatever he’s told you, it was to win you over to his side.”
“His side,” Faron said softly. “Side of what, little sister?” She glared but did not answer. “Then you know. You know that what he’s done cannot be forgiven. That neither his religion nor his kingdom can be allowed to stand.”
All around Faron, in pools of water great and small, appeared a dozen matching visages of Calluna glaring at him. The water rippled, but not from the faint wind.
“Stay away, Faron,” she said. “Stay west. Don’t come to Racliffe. Don’t come to the Tower Majestic.”
“Why not?” Faron asked. “What is it you fear I will find?”
Her rage bled into sorrow. Calluna was ever driven by emotions, and they overwhelmed her completely. Tears trickled from her star-filled eyes even as her voice remained as hard as stone.
“We’ve spilled enough of each other’s blood. Let Eder have his kingdom. It’s what he deserves, after what Sariel did to him.”
Faron crossed his arms. “We made our vows.”
“Vows Eder never shared.”
“Enough, Calluna! No crowns. No thrones. That is our law. Even if I were to forgive him for anointing himself a king, I have met one of his preachers. He has given radiance to humanity. I know you’ve seen it.
I know you’ve witnessed their disgusting, tainted version of our gifts.
For you to allow Eder to commit such a crime, to see it spread, and then defend him—”
“Stop!”
The scream burst from every puddle. Water sprayed with it.
Faron endured the outburst. When the ripples stilled, only the largest puddle contained Calluna’s visage.
She stood, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
Mud caked the lower edge of her dress. The moon shone brightly above her, outlining her body in white.
“There’s no saving you,” she said, her voice colder than ice. “There’s no saving any of you.”
And then she was gone.