The Blessing of Equinox Page 4

  Chapter 6

  Marsilia continued to stroke the fur upon her shoulders as they walked. It was equally smooth as silk and soft as down. The sun caught on it and shone like fine polished silver while a dark undercoat ate the light each time she moved.

  As much as she was still worried for her father and was anxious for this quest, she was also incredibly touched and overwhelmed by her sisters’ gesture. They had all called her ‘little sister’ since she had met them shortly after Eudon adopted her, but this was so much more than a cute name.

  She was one of them, now part of an extended family of beauty and magic. She knew precisely what the stole meant - that they would die for her, as she would die for them, and that they would begin to share their magic with her. It remained true that she would never share their near-immortal longevity, but there was so much she would be able to learn from them!

  But only if they managed to defeat this dark witch before the nightmare claimed them, sought out their magic for some unfillable void.

  For another couple of hours they traveled until the sun shone high overhead, the dwarf silently following in her wake. A part of her wanted to talk with him, as her only companion, but her mind was once more turned to their quest. She doubted he much wanted to hear her fretting, her anxiousness. After all, he had been so adamant about setting a tone for their task and they were still only in the first half of the day.

  “We should stop to eat,” Fjell said from behind her. “And rest.”

  A break in the trees ahead gave a glimpse of his mountain, still a fair distance away. A momentary flurry of determination nearly made her reject the thought of stopping, but she knew he was right. They had been walking for hours with hardly any stops to rest. If she didn’t rest and eat, she wouldn’t make the rest of the journey in one day.

  “Alright,” Marsilia sighed and nodded ahead. “That fallen tree up there looks like a good place to sit.”

  As they reached the fallen tree on the side of the path, she dug in the bag Rohesia had given her and pulled out a loaf of fresh bread, some hard cheese and a parchment folded around dried apple slices. They settled on the log and she handed half the bread to him and began to divide the cheese and apples.

  “You aren’t one for much chatter, are you?” she inquired.

  Fjell paused, giving her a side-long glance. “Ye’ve a lot on yer mind. I didn’t want to interrupt yer thoughts. Figured ye’d talk if ye wanted to.”

  Marsilia paused in breaking the chunk of cheese apart and glanced at him in surprise before letting out a small laugh. “That’s… fair. Thank you for the consideration.”

  The towering dwarf shrugged the thanks off as he took the cheese she offered and crumbled a corner on to his bread before taking a bite. He chewed for a moment, watching the woods before swallowing and speaking. “If ye’ve got a mind to hear, I can answer any questions ye have about the Fae Realm best as I can.”

  “Best as you can?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she handed over his half of the dried apple rings and popped one in her mouth.

  “Aye,” he said, piling the rings on his uninjured thigh. “I know the dwarven realms, the surrounding areas, and a bit of the Elves’ realms.”

  “Ah,” she said, nodding in understanding. “Alright. Any protocols I should know in meeting this dwarven king?”

  Fjell shifted, frowning, and slowly chewed before finally answering. “Call him yer majesty. Bow when introduced and before departing - or curtsey if ye want. Just be respectful. Yer not part of the courts, so ye have a bit of leeway on courtesies.”

  Marsilia nodded, considering as she finished chewing. A thought surfaced and she spoke it before fully thinking it through. “Why are you concerned about meeting the Mantle of Autumn?”

  ‘What?” he asked, looking over at her with something between disconcertion and disbelief.

  “When you and Elder Rohesia were fighting about how to make this quest go faster, you said it was bad enough you had to face the ‘new Autumn’. Did you do something to upset her? Or… did you hear something about her?” Marsilia asked, turning on her seat upon the fallen tree to better face him.

  Fjell remained silent for a long moment, taking another bite of bread and cheese, she was sure, to buy time. Finally, he swallowed and looked back to her. As he did, the sunlight caught his eyes so that they flashed gold once more.

  “Nay, I’ve not upset her - I’ve never met her,” he said evenly. “But what I’ve heard of her makes her a force to be reckoned with. I don't try to meddle in such matters anymore.” When she met him with a confused frown, he laid his bread in his lap and continued. “She was raised to her position about fifteen years ago. Not only did she claim her throne through guile and insight rather than straight out violence… Ye know of Mab, aye?” At her nod he continued, turning his gaze to look out on the forest again.

  “As soon as the crown was on her head - and I mean at her coronation, as soon as she was crowned - she turned on a heel and went toe to toe with Mab and won,” he said, turning his gaze back to meet hers. “She’s either incredibly powerful or incredibly brave, but probably both. Regardless, she is cunning, deft, and clever and has from all accounts stolen Queen Mab’s General away and claimed him as her own. And we’re to go ask her a favor.”

  Marsilia’s stomach dropped and she put her food down in her lap as well. “I see,” she breathed out the words and looked up at him. “We will just have to make this work. We can’t fail.”

  A faint smile tugged at the dwarf’s lips, barely visible behind his beard, and he nodded. “Aye, we will. Lady Ylva - the Lady of Spring - I know. She’s a warrior like me, and of a just mind. I’m sure she’ll help us, and maybe give us some tips on convincing Lady Isabel.”

  For a long moment, the young witch sat in silence considering. Everything Fjell had heard was just rumor, wasn’t it? As such it was possible they were getting themselves worked up over nothing. So what if she had stood up to Mab? That made her impressive, not someone who would turn their quest away. Surely the Lady of Autumn had good reason to have done such a monumental task.

  “Well,” Marsilia said calmly, breaking off chunks of cheese and bread to pair with a piece of dried apple. “Let’s just take it one matter at a time. How do we get to the Fae Realm once we reach your mountain?”

  Fjell nodded and was about to answer when a bolt of dark energy hit him squarely in the chest, knocking him back off of the fallen tree.

  Marsilia sat stunned for only half a second, her gaze following the dwarf as he fell back and grunted as he impacted the ground. The same dark energy that had claimed her pa crackled over him and he bared his teeth, eyes squeezed shut.

  In an instant, the white witch was on her feet, bread and dried apples flying through the air. Snatching up bow and arrow, her gaze darted about, searching the shadows of the woods.

  “Well, now,” an awful voice crooned from several shadows. “The girl from the other night.”

  Narrowing her eyes, Marsilia searched, slowly raising her bow and drawing the arrow back to half her pull. “Fjell,” she whispered over her shoulder but he did not respond and she dared not glance back. “We are leaving these woods,” she called instead to the shadows.

  “Are you now?” the shadows answered, the voice undulating between a raspy, dry tone and a nearly melodic resonance. “No, I think not…”

  Shadows began to creep along the ground, slithering more and more quickly towards Marsilia and she lurched back, only to find herself up against the fallen tree. Panic began to well in her stomach as she sputtered an incantation of protection.

  “That is a pretty blade upon your hip,” the shadows hissed, unaffected by her attempts. The vines of darkness lashed towards her. “Elven. Do not think me a fool—”

  Fjell stepped over the tree, the black magic still crackling over his tall frame. His eyes glowed like molten gold as he moved past her, his face contorted in equal parts determination and rage. He hefted the shield on his left arm befo
re slamming the flat of his axe against the wood. Taking a stance before her as if bracing for a charge, he roared into the shadows, a deafening bellow of challenge. The dark magic evaporated from him, the very shadows of the woods shook and trembled, and those slithering vines of darkness that had nearly closed on her evaporated.

  Even though he faced away from her, Marsilia still felt his war cry rumble through to her very heart and her pull on the bow slackened as she stared at his back in shock. So loud was his yell, she barely heard him when he growled under his breath at her a single, short word.

  “Run.”

  Her bow in one hand, the arrow in the other, she gathered her skirts up in an unsightly mess and ran without care for exposed legs. It was only a few moments before she heard Fjell’s heavy footfalls catching up to her, but she did not look back. She could feel the dark witch’s eyes still upon her, raising the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck. A sickening howl echoed from deeper within the woods, answered by another, and another.

  “Go!” Fjell shouted from just behind her.

  “I am!” she cried back.

  Without warning, she was suddenly lifted off the ground and she let out a shriek - only to find herself swept up in the dwarf’s arms. His face set in determination, his long legs took them flying through the woods with alarming speed. Marsilia held tight to her bow, throwing her free arm around his neck to keep from getting jostled out of his grip as he sprinted.

  The howls died behind them and they broke free of the edge of the woods and on to a cleared field where sheep bleated distress at their sudden appearance. Fjell slowed to a stop a dozen yards from the woods and lowered her back to the ground with ease. Without a word, he drew his axe and shield again and turned back to face the forest, watching.

  Marsilia drew another arrow and stepped half behind him, watching as well. For a long, agonizing moment, nothing came forward and no sound save the sheep reached across the field. Breathing heavily, she began to lower her bow when a shadow caught her eye.

  Snapping the bow up, she stepped clear of Fjell and loosed her arrow before darting behind him and his shield once more. A yelp sounded in unison with the thump of the arrow hitting home and the sheep all began to bleat in terror, running farther back from the woods.

  Snarls followed that yelp and three demonic dogs lurched out of the woods - one with an arrow protruding from its shoulder. Their fur was slick and smooth, almost as if oiled. Their eyes glowed an unearthly green, flashing with each snarl and snap their salivating maws let forth. Fjell bellowed his challenge once more and the pack charged him.

  Marsilia hastened away from them, drawing another arrow from her quiver. The dwarf laid in to the beasts with his axe, beating them back with his shield. She raised her bow once more and drew the arrow back to her cheek, taking careful aim. Already one beast lay dead at his feet, but the other two were circling, attempting to flank him.

  Letting out her breath slowly, she found her target and released. The arrow flew true, digging in to the eye of one of the beasts. It let out a pitiful, sharp yelp, and collapsed to the ground, unmoving. The remaining demon dog snarled and snapped once at Fjell before backing up a few steps, then bolting back to the woods.

  Firing one last arrow after the beast, Marsilia lowered her bow and watched as her arrow skimmed just past it, embedding in the ground. The beast vanished into the woods and the field grew quiet.

  Fjell dropped to a knee but a moment later, his axe falling to the grass as he clutched his chest, breathing heavily. Marsilia's breath caught in her chest and she rushed to his side, dropping to her knees before him, pushing his hand aside.

  The area where the dark magic had first struck him was singed, the cloth burned through and already, dark bruises were forming. There was an unsettling wet sound to his labored breathing. Muttering under her breath, she turned to dig in one of her bags and pulled forth a vial of clear, pale blue liquid.

  “Drink this,” she said, looking back up at him, but froze under his gaze.

  Remnants of his battle rage still creased his brow, and the molten gold glow of his eyes was only now beginning to fade. “Say ye ask nothing,” he said, raising a hand to close over hers and the vial. A dry cough made him grimace, but he gritted his teeth and continued. “Tell me ye’ll not hold this healing over me later.”

  A moment of irritation flared through her. How many times did she have to tell him that wasn’t how she operated? But just as quickly, those thoughts died. Despite his fierce countenance, she could see uncertainty in his gaze and she couldn’t help but wonder just how much Rohesia had taken from him over the years.

  “I gift you this healing and ask nothing in return,” she finally answered.

  A subtle tension eased from his shoulders and he nodded, taking the vial and downing its contents in one go. A shudder passed through him and he gritted his teeth. There was an audible squelch as his chest expanded in a deep, dry breath. He grunted once at the inevitable pain as cracked bones fused back together, then breathed more easily. Raising his gaze to meet hers once more, he let out a slow, even breath and nodded once.

  Handing the vial back to her, he stood and stared into the woods once more. “We need to keep moving.”

  “Yes,” she said quietly, standing as well, but paused.

  One of the brightly colored strands of beads around his neck was now an ashen gray, dull as charcoal. He caught her gaze and looked down at the piece. Reaching up, he snapped the cord, letting the dull beads clatter to the ground.

  “Its magic is spent,” he said by way of explanation and turned to continue their trek across the field.

  Chapter 7

  “Just a minute,” Marsilia called to him.

  Fjell turned back and watched as the white witch trotted over to reclaim her wayward arrow. The adrenaline from the flight and fight was wearing off, and though his lungs were no longer filling with blood and his ribs were knitting back together, he ached. As resilient as dwarves were, he doubted he would have been much protection for her if he’d gone untreated.

  And yet, there had been genuine concern and worry for him in her gaze, when she gifted the healing. It wasn’t a matter of self-preservation for her. She truly cared, just as she clearly cared about those two dryads they encountered that morning.

  He didn’t want to like her. She was a witch, and he’d had nothing but trouble from her kind before. They had been the source of every significant misery in his recent years.

  As he watched, warring with his inner thoughts, she turned back. Holding the arrow up with a triumphant smile, the witch began jogging back to him.

  She was hard not to like, though. A part of him wondered if it was simply from loneliness, for a desire to have friends again. He viciously quelshed the thought.

  “Are ye not going to collect from the felled beasts?” he called as she approached.

  Marsilia shook her head, slipping the arrow back in her quiver as she moved past him to continue their journey. “No, the hellhounds’ blood will eat through the wood. I don’t want to chance getting it on my other arrows.”

  “Ah,” he answered, falling in behind her. “Ye’ve got some skill with that bow, I’ll admit.”

  “I told you my pa taught me to hunt,” she answered, then frowned, glancing back at the woods, then him. “How long do you think until the dark witch comes for us again? What did you do to her? I saw the shadows tremble when you yelled. What sort of magic was that?”

  Fjell rubbed a hand over his mouth to hide his urge to laugh at the onslaught of questions. “Ye really don’t know much about dwarves, do ye.”

  “No,” she confessed, falling in beside him as they waded through the grass. “We didn’t exactly get any of your lot coming by the cabin.”

  He nodded in understanding. “To answer yer first question, we’ve maybe an hour before she’ll be recovered enough to try at us again. That’s plenty of time to put good distance between us, and I’d wager she’ll be a bit more wary the next go �
�round.”

  Marsilia nodded and relaxed slightly. She started to open her mouth, he was sure to ask yet another question, and he quickly pressed on before she could.

  “We dwarves work in the magics of the earth and fire - metals, gems, glass and the like,” he said. “We create things and when we do, they’re infused with magic.” He reached up, touching the remaining beaded necklaces that hung down his chest. “The one I used, I made a long time ago, for another fight, for someone else.”

  He trailed off for a moment, his mind threatening to wander to the past and he ruthlessly pushed the memories away, continuing. “Took me a moment to reattune it to myself. I never figured I’d need to use it, so I’d never bothered.”

  “That yell,” Marlisia interrupted, frowning. “Is that how you activated it’s magic?”

  Fjell did laugh then, a short bark of amusement. “Nay, that was purely for effect. Think about it - ye feel yerself on the edge of victory, then I step forward, bellow my war cry and yer magic locks down. I wanted to give that kerling second thoughts about so brazenly attacking us again.”

  “What does that mean? Kerling,” she asked, looking up at him as they walked. “What language is that?”

  “Yer just full of questions, aren’t ye?” he asked, glancing aside to her. “It’s Norse. It means ‘old hag’.” He shrugged. “Quicker to say than ‘dark witch’ or ‘evil being’ and figure it’s probably apt.”

  “Kerling,” she said, testing the word on her tongue. “Kerling. I like it.” Looking up at him again, she frowned. “Why do your eyes glow sometimes? Is it when you use your magic? They glowed by the fire too.”

  Letting out a breath, he chuckled slightly. He had not so expected to open the floodgates when he got her to start talking. “Yes and yes… Dwarves eyes glow when we activate the magic we’ve infused in an item, when we’re making those items, and in the presence of fire.”

  “Why fire?” she asked.

  He quirked an eyebrow, looking down at her. “It’s tied to our craft,” he said with a shrug. “Everything we make involves fire in some aspect - forging, melting glass, or giving us light to cut gems.”