A Faerie Tale

Sauria Boxelder stood in her garden, watching the troops march past. Villagers were lined up along either side of the street, fists outstretched above their heads as the soldiers made their way out, on the path to Ferelith.

Rajani’s people were among them. They were easy to spot; unusually tall, humanoid shadows with murky features. Darkness swirled around them like tangible clouds of black smoke. They walked confidently alongside the pale, sun-starved men who’s clumsy, shaking hands held swords or bows.

As the last of them passed through the copper gates of the village, two young teens pulled them closed. Sauria watched the men and shadows until they disappeared into the tree line. With the clang of the gates closing, she turned toward her home.

Our army is pitifully small. Sauria thought to herself. At least we have Rajani. They had his men. They were stronger than they appeared. Sauria almost expected her husband, Ulmus, to be standing in the doorway, waiting for her. It struck her belatedly that she had asked him to leave with the army. Anticipation wound its way into her chest.

Compared to the other Royals, the Boxelders’ house was fairly quaint. Melisadne was the least wealthy, and least developed, area of Faerie. Most of the residents made their money by trading with merchants who sold their products second-hand at the Shadow Market. Their houses were small, compact, and mostly uniform; two small bedrooms, an open-plan main room with a small kitchen, and one bathroom. Water had to be heated over a fire, and electricity was rationed. They didn’t have a functioning military, and the citizens were politically divided.

Sauria had grown up here. Generations of her family had ruled before her, and as a result, she was used to Melisadne’s less-than-fortunate circumstances. In the past, this area had been teeming with valuable resources. It was not that way anymore. A bustling town had fallen into disrepair under her parents’ supervision. The entirety of Southern Faerie was weak and divided. She knew that she couldn’t continue to rule like this.

Even with her encouragement, and rewards for raising a child past the age of one, her citizens were dragging their feet. The population was continuing to decline.

It was because of those circumstances that Sauria had begun her plan of overtaking Faerie. Perhaps it would have been easier to target a smaller, or closer, area, but taking control of Ferelith would put her in charge of the entirely of Faerie. She was blinded by jealousy and greed. She craved the recognition, power, and adoration that Corian Frostal received. Ferelith was flourishing while Melisadne was floundering. Vengeance burned in Sauria’s chest when she thought about it. The bitter, acrid taste of hatred rose in the back of her throat. She clenched her fists at her sides and brought herself back to reality.

----

The siege was incoming. Everyone in Ferelith was preparing for it. Spies, scouts, and shifters had been coming back, day after day, with reports of the Melisadne army drawing closer, alongside reports of shadow people walking amongst the Fae. Shadow people implied the use of magic. Warlocks were among them.

Corian stood by the window, rocking the newest addition to their family in her arms. A beautiful baby girl named Nova. Corian cradled her to her chest and looked up to watch the sun rise. She froze.

Approaching from the distance, visible only because they were without tree cover, was a large group of people. Shadowy figures blurred amongst the solid ones. Corian’s heart dropped.

Quickly, she rushed into her bedroom and shook her husband awake. Fennec blinked at her for a few seconds before registering the concern on her face.

“The army has arrived.”

The next few days were a whirlwind of activity. Fennec gathered the garrisons, holding urgent strategy meetings every couple of hours. As the attackers grew closer, Fennec began to urge Corian to take their children and go to Arista to stay with her parents. Corian reluctantly agreed, and bundled all five of her children into a covered wagon.

The drive to Arista was relatively short and uneventful. The house was not far past the border. Even so, Corian couldn’t help but feel nervous and watched every step of the way. Anxiety twisted in her chest like barbed wire.

The carriage pulled up in front of the Lostwood manor, and the driver stepped down from his bench. After a moment, the door swung open, and Corian breathed a sigh of relief.

“Lest you need to move quickly, my Queen, the carriage and I shall stay at the inn. Please, do not hesitate to contact me should you desire to go home.” The driver curled forward in a bow, directing his last few words toward the ground.

“Your graciousness is appreciated,” Corian said, warmly. She began ushering her children into the house as the driver unloaded their luggage. “Get to the inn safely.”

The driver bowed again and climbed back up to his bench. The horses began trotting off in the direction of the inn. Corian followed her children inside, closing the door behind her.

----

When the sun had set and the army had stopped to rest for the night, Ulmus spread a blanket over the bumpy ground and used his pack as a pillow. Too anxious to sleep, he stared up at the clear sky and began counting the stars.

Ulmus wasn’t entirely sure about this. Sauria had been adamant, though. The siege was going to happen, it was going to be successful, and if he was going to come home, he had to bring the baby with him. A baby for them to raise together under their eventual rule of Faerie.

Sauria was a powerful woman with a lot of drive. She was also a jealous, vengeful woman who took what she wanted without regret. The older they got, and the longer they went without children, the more delusional Sauria seemed to become. Her hatred for those with families was directed specifically toward the rulers of Faerie -- the High King and Queen. When Corian had announced the arrival of her fifth child, a healthy baby girl, Sauria must have snapped.

Ulmus had been young and naïve when the two had first met, and she had carefully molded him into her perfect partner. Quiet, complacent, submissive. He had been with her for so long that standing up to her was nearly impossible. He had been trained out of asking questions. Whatever she said, went. Whatever she wanted, was done. Ulmus had no say in the matter, but he was expected to carry out the heavy lifting. So, when she told him that she wanted Corian’s newest baby, he had no other option. Perhaps it would be better to get killed in battle, so he wouldn’t have this weighing on his conscience for the rest of his life.

Ulmus shifted on the uncomfortable ground. The dirt was slightly damp, and the thin blanket was beginning to soak through. He rubbed a hand over his face roughly, his palm scraping against his stubble. He pressed his knuckles against his eyelids until pops of colour sprang from the pressure. He tried to relax.

He had never considered himself an evil man. He had grown up in Arista, on the opposite side of Faerie, as a halfling; half-human, half-Fae. He had happened upon Sauria during one of her protests against the Crown. He had been attempting to simply pass by, but he had been drawn in by her beauty and allure, and couldn’t pass up the chance to get to know her. He wasn’t sure he agreed with her politics -- he still wasn’t -- but that had been a distant concern, up until now.

The next morning, as the sun was rising, Ulmus struggled to his feet with the rest of the army. He was stiff from lying on the ground all night, and exhausted from getting so little sleep. As they set off, a shadow fell into step beside him. Ulmus snuck a fearful look at the figure. Wisps of grey floated from the black mass like an extinguished match. The blur where the face should have been turned to match Ulmus’ stare.

“Can I help you?” The shadow’s voice was deep and gravelly. Ulmus shook his head, weakly. In his silence, the shadow laughed. It was a coarse sound, like rocks scraping together. A shadowy appendage lifted toward where the face would have been. After a moment, a face began to form within the smoke. A human face. “I’m only human.”

His tone had gone from gravelly to smooth and sarcastic. The shadow’s face was young, a man in his early twenties. He had sandy brown hair and pale green eyes. Strands of hair flopped across his forehead and he brushed it away with a still-shadowy hand.

“Richard,” Ulmus grumbled, a flash of recognition growing into mild annoyance. Richard Lottle was a human merchant that Rajani had called in as an assistant for the kidnapping scheme. Apparently, he had experience in the field. Richard laughed again, but this time the sound was clear and hearty. His childish grin was almost contagious. “Why do you look like that?”

“What part of this plan made you think I wouldn’t need a disguise?” Ulmus felt his face flush. He supposed Richard knew what he was talking about. To him, Richard just looked like a kid, but he was already a career criminal.

“So... is there a plan?”

“What do you think I do for a living?” Richard asked, indignantly. “Of course there’s a plan. Raj and I worked it all out. Trust me, we take this shit seriously.”

Ulmus nodded, a little embarrassed. He felt nervous. Richard’s face disappeared back into the cloud of smoke and the two lapsed into silence. Richard seemed comfortable, strolling like he was taking a walk in the park, and Ulmus was busy trying to keep his hands from trembling at his sides.

“How are you going to do it?” He asked, after a few moments.

“The less you know, the better,” came the gruff reply. “I just need your help pulling it off.”

----

It was noon on the third day of staying at her parents’ house. Corian had just received a letter from Fennec that assured her they were holding the line and there had been no advancements. He underlined that there was nothing to worry about, and the conflict was set to come to an end soon.

Corian followed her four eldest children out into the field behind the house. She brought Nova in a rocker and laid out a blanket. There were large trees adorning the lawn, perfect for climbing. Corian watched her children play for a few moments before she took a book out of the picnic basket she brought with her, and laid down. She only managed to read a chapter before she fell asleep under the sun.

She woke up to a crash and a scream. She jolted awake, her eyes immediately focusing on the biggest tree, in the far corner of the yard. Five-year-old Dinae was crumpled on the ground, her siblings crowded around her. Panic crowded out every other emotion. She bolted upright, the blood rushing to her head. The world spun around her and tendrils of black crept into the edges of her vision. She had to get to Dinae.