Promise of Dusk (Endings #1)

Chapter 46

We make it through the tunnels, the way back unbarred, just as I remembered it. I wonder if the king did it to ensure I could leave. I wonder if he waded in the waste himself to remove it or if he just knew that this path was clear.

Fionn shoots me distrustful glance after distrustful glance. I can see in his eyes he will kill me given half the chance.

It is silent until we reach a suitable exit, the light of dawn peeking through the holes in the lid stone.

As soon as we breathe the fresh air, I feel the need to run. To get away from Fionn and his looks. To run far from the castle and the horrible things that happen there. To get away from Erron and my betrayal of him and Gwen. To sail across the sea and forget my miserable life. I think it’s the shock wearing off. I can only hope one day I’ll stop feeling like this.

We steal some clothes for Fionn. A pair of dark linen trousers hanging from a windowsill and a dark blue lightweight tunic billowing from a line. Once he is passable, he dons a light cloak, drawing the hood up to hide his emaciation, the filth that lingers over him will have to wait. I admit begrudgingly to myself that he still looks handsome, even in such a state.

A familiar maroon door greets me, and I pass it to head down the alleyway, the group following behind me.

Facing the brick wall near where the madame stopped, I knock on the stone, feeling rather foolish. A few paces down, the stone wall moves, retracting backwards before moving aside as a head pokes out. The man says, looking befuddled, “Down here next time, miss. I almost did not hear you.”

My face warms as I lead us down the stairs, down the hallway and into a familiarly garish office.

The space feels small with all of us in it. Gwen wanders about, fondling baubles and feeling the texture of fabrics. Erron still aids Fionn in walking. Fionn’s leg appears to be broken after having watched him, though he won’t let me close enough to really look at it.

The bookshelf-door swings open and there she is. The madame looks like the cat that ate the cream as she wanders in. “Well, well, well. Look who did it. I’m afraid I’m growing rather impressed with you, healer.”

“Madame, thank you, for your help. We came to seek more information, if you will give it. We come to seek our friends. Would you have any more information about where they may have gone?”

“Ah yes, I do have something that belongs to you. It will be here any moment. You picked quite the time to show, the king has been gone since a few days after you left. My birds say he’s coming back soon, with quite the company. I’m sure he will be delighted to realize he’s missing one of his most prized prisoners,” She says demurely, lighting up a smoke.

Erron speaks next, “I believe you have some answering to do, Banshee. When last we met, I told you to keep the secret of my people. I believe I threatened to wipe you from the face of this realm if you so much as uttered a word about us. And yet, here we are, because you went back on your word.”

She’s grinning slyly, blowing a cloud of smoke out from between two red-painted lips. “Would that you had even half your power here, Erron. You’re so handsome when you’re angry. It almost makes me want to let you try. It would be nice to feel the warm hands of a Fae male again.” She flickers a glance at me. “I thought you might let this one time that I broke our deal slide, my lord Donn. Considering what kind of prize I led to your den. You should really thank me.”

Erron’s jaw flutters as takes her measure. It’s like watching a mountain lion and a wolf stare one another down. “Never again,” he says, letting the offense slide like a slow, calculated surrender of a battle.

“I thought you might feel that way,” she says smugly.

A shadow fills the doorway.

Not just a shadow. The Shadow.

Elva stands there, looking stricken.

I can’t help but gasp her name in elation.

She’s as beautiful as ever. Her midnight skin aglow in the candlelight. Her hood is down for once, revealing her closely shorn hair and elongated, pointed ears.

She rushes to us after a beat, murmuring our names in astonishment. She gets a good look at Fionn and gasps, “What has happened?”

“What happened to you?” Fionn growls.

His anger surprises me.

“You were gone that day. Just gone. What exactly, was more important than coming back that evening?” he interrogates .

The madame chimes in, “She was coming to see me, boy. She remembered me from our last interaction and couldn’t resist.”

Elva shoots the banshee a look. “I saw Alyx leaving. I remembered who ran this pleasure house and wanted to ensure nothing was amiss. Luckily, nothing was. Unluckily, by the time I returned…” She glances nervously at the madame. “Everything had fallen apart. I didn’t know if you were alive or dead. Eventually, after finding nothing about anyone, I returned. I offered my services in exchange for access to her birds. I’ve been trying to find everyone.”

She had been watching me—spying on me. The thought stings, but I suppose it may have been justified.

She sees the look on my face. “I just wanted to allow you your space, but I wanted to make sure your ignorance was not being exploited.”

I nod, waving it off, though another thought occurs to me.

I turn to the Banshee. “Why didn’t you say that she was working for you when I came by searching for help? It would have been helpful to have Elva when I was risking my life, racing across the country to get to the mounds. Was it just amusing to you?”

The Banshee’s face darkens. “I don’t appreciate being questioned, faeling. Your friend was already halfway to Gormes by the time you stumbled in. You did not seem inclined to wait. Neither does it look like your lover had the extra time.”

“We aren’t lovers,” snarls Fionn. He looks at Elva. “You should know. Your little friend here isn’t what she seems.” He eyes me. Erron shifts more of Fionn’s weight back on his bad leg. Fionn gasps in pain before snarling at Erron.

“Watch your mouth,” Erron rumbles .

“She should know,” I state, a lump in my throat. “Tell her Fionn. Let her decide.”

He does. He spares no details of our time imprisoned while we were together. He tells her of that day in the throne room. He tells her the whispers the wicked king poured in his ears. He tells her of Gwen and Erron, who then introduce themselves stiffly. He tells her of what occurred in the cells just hours ago.

I wait for her judgment. When she offers none, I say “If you would like to hear my side, I could tell it.”

She merely looks at me, stoic as always. “Perhaps while we are on the road. You’re no traitor. Let us go.”

The utter faith she has in me is like a balm to my abraded heart. She gives me the slightest of smiles as I walk up to her.

“It’s good to see you,” I say, softly.

A slow smile creeps onto her face.

“You too,” she replies.

What else could I say to her? I’ve missed you. I was scared you would hate me. I was worried that I would never see you again.

All these things would make me sound like a child, but I feel them all the same.

Instead, I ask, “Do you know where they are?”

Elva nods. “I found them recently.” She looks down, sighing. “They’re a bit on edge. Have been ever since I found them. Konan won’t leave Aine, but Aine is in no shape to go anywhere. Armund wants to stay with them.” She pauses, then adds to both Fionn and I, “They thought you were dead.”

Even Fionn has stopped glaring at the topic of conversation.

“What do you mean Aine is in no shape to go anywhere?” I ask, my heart stumbling. “She wasn’t hurt. She was fine.” Besides what she witnessed.

“She’s okay. You’ll see. She is just… not as she was.” Elva sweeps for the doorway, grabbing onto the crook of my elbow. “We shall go and get them. The sooner we are all together again, the better.”

Fionn says, “All of us should go.”

Elva eyes Fionn’s legs. “You won’t make it. Not on that leg. We will bring them back here and you can see them then.”

“Either Gwen or I should go with you,” Erron says. His surly expression says he’s considering dumping Fionn on the ground.

“Sure. But be quick about it.” Elva stops in the doorway. “Clio can get you to our meeting point.” She indicates the madame. “I want out of this cursed city today. I crave the full weight of my power. I’m sure you all understand.”

Gwen nods, wide-eyed in agreement. “I’ll go. Erron, enjoy the cripple.”

Fionn glares in protest at being addressed as such.

Erron looks like he wants to argue, but he lets her go with a pointed glance.

“As always, it’s been a pleasure, Elva.” The madame gives her a heated look before turning to me. “Alyx, don’t forget our bargain.”

“Why not just ask me now?” I ask.

“Because you don’t know the answers yet.”

I nod, apprehensive. I’m not sure how many revelations I can survive.

Walking out the door between Elva and Gwen, I’m eager to see the others. I’m eager to see my mission through. I’m eager to see Aine, and make sure she is whole. I’m eager to see her, to reassure myself of her resilience. To be able to reassure her that she never has to be alone.

As we walk, it feels like a hole is being slowly punched through my chest.

Elva was correct in saying that Fionn would not have made it.

Gwen and Elva’s long-lived bodies are lithe and graceful, easily scaling the rocky wall. They now wait at the top, watching me in amusement.

If I’m part Fae, my body is not yet aware.

My every muscle tremors in fear and weakness as my hands grip onto the rough stone. I scrape my foot against the wall, seeking a hold that was so easy for the others to find. The noon sun beats down on my black cloak, heating me past comfort. Waves crash against the cliff below, only serving to worsen my fear.

I climb as Gwen chatters.

“Don’t worry, Alyx. If you fall, we’ll sing songs of your bravery,” Gwen chimes from her place, seated at the edge, feet kicking happily. Her heels sometimes hit the wall, causing bits of rock to fall in my face. “I’m still impressed you got on Rignon.” Elva doesn’t flinch at the mention of the dragon. She was debriefed on our way here. She only watches me with her intent, midnight eyes. “I was betting he takes a bite out of you just for the mere fact that you thought he might let you. Erron will give me shit about that forever. Next time we make a bet about you, I’ll be sure to bring you in on it. He is an unbearable loser, but an even more unbearable winner.”

She pauses as I make another stride upward.

Turning to Elva she asks, “What are the odds she makes it to the top without needing help?”

Elva considers for a moment before she says, “Fair. ”

“Want to bet your bow on it?” Gwen holds her hand out in proposition.

Elva eyes it with disgust, “No.”

I reach the top. Face level with Gwen’s swinging boots. If I wasn’t so sure I would fall, I would rip her boot off and throw it in the sea.

Hauling myself over the edge takes every modicum of residual fear-fueled strength.

Elva swiftly stands, holding her hand out to bring me to my feet.

No rest for the weak.

The rest of the narrow path along the rocky cliffside is pocked with crumbled rock and drop-offs. The waters in the Gulf of Ashri dance in the late-summer sunlight. The ship-docks along the outside of Raith are just around the bend, out of sight. Merchant boats sail in the distance, the noontime sun bearing down on boats of various sizes flying flags of varying colors and symbols. I recognize some as belonging to the high houses of the eastern continents. Theirs is a collection of many small countries, ruled by the wealthiest families of each country. They tend to stand peacefully with one another and the other countries across the sea.

Amidst the boats is an eerie specter, the Isle of Tori. The dark protruding isle is abandoned, due to the lore of its accursed land. Some people say ghosts sing there day and night, and you can hear it when the city is quiet. They say that the soil is all ash and the ground more likely to crumble beneath your feet than draw forth life.

As our boots tread the crags, I search for a cave or an outcropping. None appear.

A scuffle behind me freezes me in my tracks.

Looking back, Gwen is grappling with a large, pale- haired figure.

Only when the knife is locked between their two hands do I recognize him.

Konan.

“Who are you?” he growls.

Gwen growls back, words lost to the animalistic need to defend one’s life.

“A friend. One of yours. A Fae woman from Danu,” Elva shouts, leaving them to their skirmish.

Gwen’s rich brown hair falls back in their struggle, revealing her ear’s pointed tips.

Only then does Konan pause, his eyes flickering over her face, catching more than once on her ears.

“How?” he asks, still holding her on her back foot.

“I went and found them. The rest of the Fae of Danu. If you’ll release her, we can discuss it further. Hopefully in the company of Aine and Armund,” I say, hoping to deescalate this before Gwen rips his throat out with her teeth. I see her eyeing it.

He only lingers a moment before disengaging with bared teeth.

“Aine felt you coming,” he says, looking to Elva.

She jerks her chin in acknowledgment.

Elva keeps on, leaving the rest of us to follow.

Konan advances to walk behind me, leaving Gwen to the rear. “Where have you been? Where is Fionn?”

Where have I been? Dying. Coming alive again. Crossing worlds. Dealing with kings.

“Fionn is alive. Injured, but alive. That is why he couldn’t come with us. I’ll wait to explain until we are with the others, the story is too long.”

He grunts in annoyed acquiescence.

His brutish form used to intimidate me. Now it’s a small sort of comfort when my shoulder brushes his chest.

Elva ducks into the side of the rock, an opening I would never have caught.

I follow her.

The cavern it hides is sizable, large enough to fit all of us standing or laying. The space is lit with a modest fire in the center.

“Alyx.” My name is a gasp from across the fire.

The lighting is still playing tricks with my eyes because I don’t see him until he wraps me in his gangly arms.

“Armund,” I say with a smile, squeezing him back.

“I thought you were dead,” he whispers into my hair.

“It would never be that easy,” I reply lightly, pulling out of the embrace. Never mind how close that came to being true.

“You were never going to fall off that wall,” comes a small, halting voice from across the flames.

A voice both familiar and foreign.

I walk slowly towards the voice, feeling the heat from the flames as I circle around the fire.

“I might have,” I reply warily.

Aine sits on a piece of driftwood, not looking towards me, but towards dancing flames in shades of violet and orange. Her hands cupping her elbows, she leans into the warmth in front of her.

I want to go to her. I want to reach out a hand, but she seems so distant.

“You were sturdy. Like a mountain in a storm. The only thing that wavered was your breath.”

I look at the others, scattered around the cave. Armund leans against the cave wall, arms crossed. He gives me a small, encouraging smile. Konan hovers behind my shoulder. Elva and Gwen linger at the edges, observing us .

I wish we didn’t have such an audience.

“How did you see that?” I ask.

“I see everything now.” She pauses. “And nothing.”

I take the seat beside her. She turns her face towards me when she feels my arm brush hers.

Her eyes.

They’re the same beautiful hazel set in an almond shape, but now they only look towards me—look through me, unseeing. Moving back-and-forth slightly, like when they’re closed and you’re in a deep sleep.

She looks lost. Like she’s been wandering for some time and is on the brink of accepting that she will never find her way back.

She’s blind. How, I’m not sure. But my insides are shrieking in outrage. I’m one big knot of destructive vengeance at the thought of what she’s lost. Of how scared she must be. How she lost the people she should be able to depend upon, always. And then lost her sight as well.

I close my eyes against the onslaught of emotion.

I don’t realize my reaction until her hand settles on mine, burning warm against my frigid skin. I look at her.

“It’s okay,” she says.

Her comforting me in this moment causes my rage to flare, the air turning so cold that I can see our breath. I grip her hand tightly in mine, unable to bear not holding onto her in some small way.

“No. No it is not okay. Who did this?” I hiss, jerking around to look at Konan.

Elva speaks up when Konan looks too angry to speak the words, “Nobody, specifically. It is a soul-wound. Sometimes, with the Fae, we experience something so traumatic it manifests in physical symptoms. Those wounds are unlikely to heal—she is unlikely to see again. It occurred after that day, in the alley…”

Just the mention of that day makes my stomach bottom-out.

It was my fault really, that we were all there in that alley.

I want to beg her forgiveness. I want to tell her I’m sorry for the rest of my existence. But somehow it feels wrong to make this about me, in any way. To all but force her to forgive me in front of an audience. To force her to think about that day for even a moment more than I’m sure she already does. I swallow my shame, breathing deeply.

Instinctively searching for my center, I pull my power back into me. The air warms slightly.

I look at her. She’s waiting on my words. I feel like they have weight now—too much weight.

I drape my arm across her small shoulders that carry so much and say, “I’ve missed you.”

She smiles, brilliantly. Just as brilliantly as always.

I think it might kill me.

“I’ve missed you too.”

I’m thankful she doesn’t see the tear I shed. Pulling her firmly under my arm, I squeeze her until I have to force myself to stop before I hurt her.

As the others begin quiet talk, full of inquisitions and updates, I interrupt, “We are going to get out of this place.”