The Arkanist

Chapter Four: The Faey

Chapter Four: The Faey

I found myself in the woods, alone. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure how I got there, but I was there nonetheless. Some things you just can't question in life. This was one of those times.

            The forest at night, you must first understand, is a strange place.

            One might think it quiet, eerily silent, the deep shadows muffling any sound of life or motion. Quite the opposite is true. Loud and restless it hums, engulfing your footsteps; as when most of the outside world sleeps, the forest is alive. Alive with the voices of a thousand songs, all in chorus, all struggling to be heard.

            I wandered its wooded labyrinth, playing my part, the moonlight shimmering pale and cold against the snowy carpet. My feet crunched as I went, the tips of my boots wet and frozen. I tugged at my collar as the wind whistled its way through the trees, all grey and naked, their leaves long forgotten, hidden under the white. At times, I would hear their limbs rattle like bones and it sent a chill down the length of my spine.

            I followed a pale, whispering brook down a gentle hill as it flowed over smoothed stones. I didn't know where I was walking. I didn't care. My feet were frozen, my hands were numb, my face had gone hard and raw and still I walked, no, roamed. Walking means you have a purpose, a destination. I didn't have one of those. Not really.

            In time, the brook led me to a small river, which ran through the wood like a spike of silver, its dark surface sparkling in the starlight. I stopped at its edge. It was too wide to cross and too deep. I didn't know how far to either side of me it went, or even how deep it was there, so I simply remained where I was. My eyes were heavy, yes, but I wasn't tired. I didn't need to start back, not yet.

            That led me to another problem. I didn't know where I was. I supposed I could follow my tracks, but tracks are easy to lose, especially at night. My best bet, I deduced, would be to follow the brook, believing it would lead me back the way I'd come, relatively, at any rate. I hoped.

            That was when I saw him.

            Across the river, upon a little white hillock, all crowned in pale birch trees was a boy. And he was dancing. He wore a white shirt and green pants that cut just below his knee. His hair was black as the night sky and his face was pale as the moon, seemingly glowing. I knew the look immediately. He was faey.

             I bit my tongue and held my breath. He didn't seem to notice me, not at first. Not until I stepped over the twig, at least. It wasn't one of those flimsy twigs that snap with the gentle grace of ones fingers. No, it was the kind that split your ear in half. Just my luck.

            It snapped with a crisp determination, loud and clear, like a sword through butter it ripped the nightsongs of the wood into utter silence. I stopped still as stone, frozen in fear, my ribs fighting to keep my heart behind them.

            Then the faey stopped dancing, and turned toward me, and I, looking a ripe fool, my shoulders arced in suspense, foot still over the broken twig, moonlight pouring over me, stood for all to behold. For some reason, I stared directly into his eyes. I wished I hadn't. They were sharp as swords, I remember, and purple, fair as lilac, yet deep as violet petals, still cold somehow, and distant, as though they saw things I did not, or could ever see. They made me shiver slightly, deep in my heart.

            The faey began to walk toward me then, down the slight hill and through the trees, his soft, weightless feet dancing over the snowy ground. I say danced, because even though he had effectively stopped dancing, he still walked with a certain grace and litheness that I thought magical, and was deserving of something more accurate than simply walking. He crossed the stream without touching the water and stood before me, a good deal taller, his face truly glowing, like metal caught against the sun, black lips pursed. I felt his intense gaze study me, and peer into my soul.