Aerisian Refrain, page 25
part #1 of Beyond the Sunset Series
Silence fell at the end of her speech. Hands on hips, she faced her accusers down. “Well?”
Chapter 34
Threat
Chagrined, Braisley raised her chin. “Very well, then. The truth is, our male counterparts were banished because of a threat they carried to Aerisia. A threat to the Artan. A threat that you, alone, may have the power to carry out.”
The two women from Earth looked at each other, bewildered.
“How could I be a threat to her?” Annie demanded. “She’s the Artan.”
“Yes, and they desired to be a part of that,” Sorelle said, stalking closer to the young woman. “They wished to have a part in the creation of the Artan.
“She is of our world and beyond. From another place, another time, she will come,” the fairy quoted. Like a predator, she stalked back and forth in front of the girl, who flinched but did not forfeit her ground. “They knew the prophecy as well as any of us. If they could sprout the proper bloodlines, birth the proper child, the power of the Artan would be theirs to serve and to direct.”
“Can you imagine the power they would have wielded were these plans to come to fruition?” Aureeyah joined in. “Even the potential of such power was worth whatever role they had to play and whatever lengths they had to go.”
Silence drifted over the room. Cole looked first at Lady Hannah. The color had somewhat leached from her cheeks and the anger from her countenance, but she did not seem mollified. His gaze drifted to Annie next. She was much the same. The two women stared at one other, separated by a few paces and the magnitude of the story just revealed.
“So…you’re saying the male fairies served the Dark Powers, then?” Hannah finally tore her gaze from her friend’s to address the fairies.
“Well,” Braisley admitted, somewhat reluctantly. “Although I could accuse them of many things, I cannot accuse them of that. They had no need to draw strength from the Dark Powers. They’d magic of their own. They had no wish to be subject or beholden to any other entity. They wanted all power for themselves.”
“Then if—then if this is true, how did I get the luck of the draw? How do we know there aren’t more of them out there? More people like me, I mean. Running around. How do we know Earth isn’t populated with their descendants?” Annie gathered her wits to ask.
“To begin with, although their magic could be carried by either sex, they ensured their power would only manifest itself in females since it was the Artan they wished to sire,” Sorelle replied. “Further, what they tried to accomplish was no mean feat. Due to such misuse of their magic, from what we assessed, their plan failed more often than it succeeded.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning a fairy assuming human form in an attempt to sire a child? It simply did not happen as they hoped. Very few children, that we are aware of, were spawned. And our brothers—the ones we caught—were questioned most thoroughly, believe me.”
“You mean tortured,” Lady Hannah put in. All eyes turned to her.
“Whatever you wish to call it,” the fairy ruler responded loftily. “Nothing was done that was not necessary.”
The Artan shook her head, disgust on her features. “This is awful, this whole mess. And I still think it seems pretty farfetched. You’re saying they only successfully fathered a handful of children. If that’s the case, the odds of that magic and that bloodline surviving long enough to even show up in her, in Annie, must be high up in the millions. For it to show up with any power? Maybe the billions.”
“The odds of her carrying the bloodlines are enormous indeed,” Lord Contrey put in soberly. He’d said nothing, till now, but when he did speak all turned to him in respectful silence. “For her power to manifest itself in force, it must be derived from both sides of her lineage. As you said, my lady, for that magic to persist in bloodlines and be carried down with any effect is indeed remarkable. But for those bloodlines to meet, mate, and produce an heir?” He shook his head. “The odds are tremendous.”
Now everyone was staring directly at Annie. She closed her eyes, shook her head slightly. “No. No, I won’t hear this. I don’t believe it. It’s impossible. Ain’t happenin’.”
“Annie,” Lady Hannah said kindly but firmly. “You can’t just check out on this. Something must explain your gifts. I’m not saying for sure this is it, but what if it is? Tell me: I guessed by looking at you that your heritage was Native American. What tribe are you from? Was it your mother’s side or your father’s? Also, what was your other parent’s heritage?”
Annie stood still so long with her eyes shut that Cole thought she might refuse to answer. Finally, her lashes lifted, and the warrior saw the glint of tears in their deep purple depths.
“My father was Cherokee,” she said. “Half Cherokee. My mother’s family was Irish. Daddy told me her ancestors immigrated to the States from Ireland during the Irish potato famine.”
“Sooo…we’re talking two groups of people known for their beliefs in the supernatural.”
“I guess,” Annie shrugged. “What’re you getting at?”
“As much as I hate to tell you this,” Hannah explained, “from all my time here in Aerisia, I’ve come to believe that most ideas of magic and magical creatures and the supernatural on Earth have their roots in Aerisia, due to the fact that our worlds were once joined. Which leads me to something else. I know the Irish are famous for their historical beliefs in fairies and the fey. Doesn’t their folklore include stories of the fey falling in love with humans and kidnapping them, keeping them for a while? And of Samhain, when fairies could travel freely through the human world, or places like standing stones and mushroom rings where fairies lived? Maybe those legends reflect gateways where male fairies from Aerisia were able to pass to Earth easier.”
“If you know all that, you know more than me,” Annie said, somewhat bitterly. “The way Mama abandoned us left me with such a sour taste in my mouth growing up that I—well, I just never cared anything about her ancestry or her legacy. Daddy always said my gift for music came from her side of the family, but, other than that, I really don’t know anything.”
“I understand,” the Artan said sympathetically. “Do you know anything about the Cherokee and their mythology, their histories and traditions? Did your father or any of your other relatives ever tell you stories that might relate to this?”
She thought a moment. “Daddy used to tell me stories when I was a kid of the Yûñwï Tsunsdi'—or, little people. He said they were like dwarves or fairies. I don’t remember much about it in particular. They were just kid stories he told me at bedtime, ya know? Then there were also the Nûñnë'hï. They were immortal spirit folk who sometimes appeared as human warriors and were usually helpful to the Cherokee. Apparently, they liked music and dancing. Sometimes hunters in the hills would hear their drumming and dance songs, but if they tried to track them the music would move, and the hunters never could find them.
“There were other stories too. I remember Grandma telling me about the Stoneclads: rock giants, and the Aniyvdaqualosgi or Ani-Yuntikwalaski. Those are the Thunderers, or powerful storm spirits. If they took a shape, it was usually human, and they were okay with people.” She smiled wryly. “I guess it’s no wonder we’d have legends about great storm spirits, living in Tornado Alley.”
“That would make sense,” Lady Hannah agreed. “And while I can’t say for sure if any of those legends, from either the Cherokee or the Irish, are the direct result of male fairies assuming human form and visiting Earth, you have to admit there are some eerie similarities between them and what the fairies have told us. Also, I’m assuming you noted the emphasis on music and dancing in these stories. Even you said you thought your music and your strange abilities could be linked. I could definitely see all of this being interrelated…if it’s true.”
“I don’t want to believe it’s true,” Annie admitted.
Cole regarded her with pity. This could not be easy for her, having her beliefs in her ancestry ripped apart with this extraordinary tale. He knew nothing of his human ancestry: only that the Scraggen had created the Simathe to be born of normal human parents, from whom they were taken and raised by other Simathe. He knew nothing of his father or mother or grandparents. He did not need to know. They would have passed on, centuries ago. Still, he could imagine the perplexity of having all he’d believed about himself rent by a single revelation. That was what Annie endured now, with a brave face and troubled eyes. More than anyone, Lady Hannah understood her pain and looked upon her with genuine sympathy.
“I know that feeling,” she smiled sadly. “Unfortunately, choosing not to believe in something doesn’t change facts.”
“These can’t be facts. There should be more proof.”
“Proof? Consider your voice, your music! Your song summoned dragons. It called out to fairies. The male fairies’ power was closely intertwined with music—that is all the proof you need! That is how we deduced what you are. Beyond that, look at your eyes. The proof is there in your face,” Braisley insisted.
“My-my eyes?”
“Eyes of that color are singular to the fairy-touched,” Aureeyah said softly. “Which can mean those who are descended from fairies, but also those brought into close contact with them, or perhaps blessed by fairy magic in some extraordinary way. I do not imagine they are common upon Earth.”
“No,” Hannah agreed, “but some people do have them.”
“If they have them, they are fairy-touched. Not to her extent, of course, but as Lord Contrey said, she is extraordinary. For her gifts to have manifested themselves as they have, fairy blood has united from both sides of her lineage. She is the one they have waited for. She could bring ruin to us all.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” Lady Hannah demanded sharply. “Even if she does have fairy blood, I’m the Artan. She’s not. The male fairies didn’t sire me. As far as we know, they didn’t have any part in my heritage. So how can she possibly be a threat to me?”
“Because they will take her and use her, if they can.” Finally Lord Ilgard spoke, rising to his feet, looking down at his wife. “Above all, they sought power. They failed to sire you, but now they have her.” He indicated the other woman from Earth. “They have a tool to free themselves from banishment. When they do, they will contest your power. They will wield her like a weapon against you.”
Sheer silence held sway. It was as if the Simathe High-Chief uttered a prophecy, not an opinion. His wife stared up at him soberly.
“That’s why you came back, isn’t it? You came back early because you believed I was threatened by Annie and you wanted to protect me.”
“It is well that he did,” Braisley said, equally solemn. “We merely suspected her heritage when she played, and her music summoned me. Tonight, she sang, and not only did she call forth a dragon, but I tell you such a tremor went through our lands that she could have called each fairy to her side. Great power attracts power. She drew a dragon. She drew us. She will draw them, even from the world where they are banished, mark my words. It may not be now. It may be years in the future. Who can say? But it will happen. And when it does…”
The silence that fell was heavy, solemn. It was Annie who broke it. Her voice was soft, but her hands were clenched together in front of her, as if to hold all of her energy, her defiance, her protestations in place.
“I’ve been accused of a lot of things,” she said. “I lived my life in the spotlight for nearly ten years. I know none of y’all except Hannah know what that means,” she said, glancing about the room, “but it means every single thing I did, every word I spoke, the clothes and jewelry I wore, the way I fixed my hair, the songs I sang, the people I talked to—every bit of it was open to inspection by the entire world. I was a celebrity, so rumors about me made the front page of every news website, every magazine, every TV headline. Most of them were completely unfounded. I’m not unused to having my character and reputation smeared. I accepted that’s how it would be when I chose to make music my career, and that’s how it was.
“But this?” She bit her lower lip, shaking her head. “This is the most unfounded rumor and the worst lie that’s ever been told about me. Do you really think—” She looked directly at Lord Ilgard, challenging him—“I would do anything to hurt your wife? She’s been my friend from the instant we met. I come from a world, an industry, where I practically had no friends because I couldn’t trust anyone. Everyone was after something. Everyone wanted something from me. Not Hannah. She accepted me as I was, for who I was, and gave me loyalty and friendship. You can’t buy that kind of relationship. I know. I had all the money in the world, and I didn’t have it. I would never hurt her.”
She turned to Lady Hannah, as if pleading with her to understand and believe. “I don’t care what they say. There’s no power on Earth or Aerisia that could make me betray you. Not some banished race of fairies. Not some alleged ancestors. Not some powers I may or may not have. You’re my friend, and I don’t take that lightly.”
“I believe you,” Lady Hannah replied, looking back at her head on.
However, from the dark expressions of those present, Cole judged that she was the only one who did, besides himself.
Chapter 35
Keeping Company
“I don’t think they believed me,” I said.
My companion didn’t answer, and the words drifted away into the peace of the night. That was okay. After the debacle in Hannah’s chambers, talking really wasn’t a requirement. I glanced over at the man beside me. When I’d stormed out of Hannah’s rooms, so had he, trailing me without a word back to my rooms. I’d been upset, so upset it was all I could do to hide it. I thought I’d managed pretty well until we were at my door and I was about to go inside. The Simathe warrior accompanying me had pointed down at my hand.
“Would you care for company?” he asked. “Or would you rather be alone?”
I was slightly bewildered until, glancing down, I saw what he’d seen. All of those pent-up, concealed nerves: my hands were shaking. The rest of me was outwardly calm, but I hadn’t been able to hide my shaking hands. I’d been so full of fear and fury that I left before I lost my composure altogether. Maybe I should have waited to hear more of what the fairies had to say, but what would I have heard? Real answers, or simply more accusations?
Accusations that were horrifying because of a certain ring of truth. Their story rang in my ears. Me, descended from fairies. Male fairies. What did a male fairy look like? In my head, I kept seeing a creature neither bird nor human. A creature with black-feathered wings. A creature who’d said so many things I didn’t understand at the time, but now were beginning to make sense. Terrible, terrible sense. Things like,
You called to us. Your blood called to us. Your voice summoned us. We have been observing you and waiting, waiting until the fullness of your strength was evident.
You do not know yet the extent of your powers, but you will. And when you do—remember us.
That night in Orlando. That brand new adrenaline spike I’d felt as I sang my closing number, and the crowd’s insane response. That same night, the presence first appeared in my dreams. Had that been the night we’d somehow linked?
No, I couldn’t think about that now. I couldn’t think about any of it. I had to calm down first.
“Maybe you could sit with me for a while,” I’d said, and he had nodded, following me into my rooms.
Not wanting to be cooped up, I’d passed outside, into the stillness of the night. I collapsed onto a chair on my balcony, and he seated himself on the matching footstool next to me. For a long time, we sat in silence. My comment about no one believing me finally broke the silence, but Lord Cole didn’t reply. Maybe because I was stating the obvious and there was no point in denying it. Instead, he pulled a small block of wood and then a knife from an inner pocket of his jerkin. The pieces looked tiny in his large, capable hands, hands I would’ve assumed were more used to wielding weapons than whittling wood. But in the darkness, he sat there, the knife moving, etching, making tiny little motions that worked the wood into some design in his mind.
“How do you do that?” I asked, thankful for a change of topic.
His gaze flickered up to me. “What?”
“Whittle. In the dark. I wouldn’t think you’d have enough light for that.”
There was moonlight and some light spilled out onto the terrace from my room, but it didn’t seem adequate.
“I am Simathe,” he said. “Darkness or light—it matters not to me.”
“So you can see in the dark, is what you’re saying?”
“I can.”
That added up then, thinking back to how easily he’d guided me through the forest the first night we met. Another distinctive of being Simathe. Another piece of the puzzle that was this man. This strange, silent man who’d stood by my side and even spoke up for me when nobody else besides Hannah had. Who sat with me now, disregarding the rumors and even his Simathe brothers’ obvious disdain.
Despite his telling me earlier that maybe he wasn’t the best person to confide in, it was easy with Cole, which was why I liked him. There was no need to fill up space with empty words. No need to force a conversation. It was easy to be silent with him. To just be near him. Even as I realized that, welcomed it, I understood how dangerous it could be.
To distract myself from those thoughts, I said, “Tell me something about you.”
He didn’t look up from his carving. His hands didn’t pause. “What would you hear?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Just anything, I guess. I know you’re Simathe. I know you’re a warrior. I know you’re a lord. I know you were attacked by a dragon. Tell me something else about you.”
“Little to tell,” he said, continuing to twist and move the wood, the knife. “I spend my life serving Treygon. I do as my brothers have done. I protect this land.”
