Faeren Fantasies 1- Legacy

Thomas

Every bone in my body ached and groaned like an old man while I dragged my feet along a dusty path in Thorne, just another stop on the way to see the Mad King before he ripped my head from my body. At my side, my closest friend William whistled cheerfully, biting into the pastry he had purchased from a stall we had passed a couple streets back, powdered sugar cresting his chin like a five o'clock shadow. He could whistle, he had nothing to worry about!
People were out in force today, adding to the headache building along my temples, a byproduct of the alcohol I'd drank last night to wash away the sour taste of defeat.
Eyeing the normally quiet streets with derision, I muttered to myself, "Where has everyone come from today?" Thorne was normally quiet. Bordering on a ghost town under the frosty touch of the Holly King. I wiped my hand along a windowsill, the wood covered in a fine layer of moss and the first whispers of snow.
The answer to my question was provided not ten seconds later, in the form of a woman being dragged down the street, held aloft by two Guards who looked like they were struggling with her. William paused, taking another bite of his pastry and snorting at the sight. She was a thin, scraggly looking thing, with black hair that was cut short just above her shoulders, keen brown eyes that scanned the crowd, lingering on objects that glittered. Her eyes swept over us, every muscle in my body tensing, my breath catching in my throat as we locked eyes, before she continued her examination of the street, a scowl on her face. My wings lifted slightly at some imperceptible challenge, nearly tearing the back of the plain cotton tunic I was wearing. I fought to calm myself, resting my hand on the pommel of my sword, a bead of sweat rolling down my brow despite the bitter chill in the air today.
Gods, what had that been?
I glanced away, scanning the crowd lining the streets to watch a woman be executed. The people in Thorne had nothing better to do, I supposed. Dirty, frostbitten savages. Which was why I was here. I needed a master thief to help me, otherwise I would be getting a very similar march back home through the streets of Falias.
A cry of indignation from the woman dragged my attention back, her bare foot flying up to kick a third Guard in the chest when he tried to put a hood over her head, screaming, "The noose?! I was supposed to get a choice!" She left a dirty print on his shirt. There was surprising strength in that kick, because she knocked him back a couple steps, the hood dropping to the ground.
William looked to me, arching an eyebrow, waiting for me to do something. I supposed I should be intervening, considering I was a Captain and they clearly looked in need of aid in getting this woman to meet her fate.
Like every Captain in the Mad King's service, I had undergone training to calm prisoners expected to meet execution. I'd been top of my class.
That didn't mean I wanted to intervene today, when I was still nursing a hangover and my own bruised ego. Sensing the direction of my thoughts, William pushed, "Tommy, she needs help. Look at her."
Sighing, I pinched the bridge of my nose, striding forward while the three Guards attempted to keep her still.
"Miss! Miss!" I called out, the three Guards looking to me in surprise. I flashed the gold Crest given to me by the Mad King, displaying my title as Captain of Faeren.
She was crying where just minutes before she had been scowling, tears rolling down her dirty cheeks. For her to be this filthy, she either lived in the lower districts of this place, or she had spent a significant amount of time in a cell. Waving the third Guard aside, who brushed down his shirt in annoyance, I stepped in front of the woman, keeping my voice low and calming, "Miss, it's okay. Can I speak with you for a moment?" The crowd was murmuring all around us, but I brandished to a nearby bench. The Guards frowned disapprovingly. What did it matter if we broke a little bit of protocol? This woman was already going to die. Sitting on a bench while we spoke wasn't going to change that.
She sniffled, wiping at her face with the back of her hand, leaving a streak of mud across her skin, her eyes red and puffy from crying. I led her over to the seat, the three Guards hovering uncertainly nearby. The shackles on her wrists rattled as she sat down. Now that I was close, I could see that the brown in her eyes had little flecks of ice-blue through them, like snowflakes across a dark sky.
"Miss Valenta," the Guards said in introduction, hurrying away to handle the crowd, urging them to empty the street and wait in the Town Square. They began moving, many of them walking slowly, trying to linger in an attempt to witness our conversation.
William joined us, hovering near the corner of the building we sat in front of, his hand on his sword. Prisoners had attempted to get the jump on us before.
"Valenta is a beautiful last name." It was also vaguely familiar, although I couldn't place why. Maybe her name had crossed my desk before in one of the reports on the dangerous criminals in the area.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a clean handkerchief, holding it out to her. She glared at it like it would bite her, until I said, "Here." Taking it, she wiped at her face with it before handing it back. William exchanged a glance with me that read volumes.
"You said you had a right to choose how you died, Miss Valenta. Were you not given that privilege?" Everyone, regardless of their crime, was given the choice. Why would she not be?
"The Oak Queen arranged her execution herself, Captain." A flicker of anger shot through me that I quickly tamped down on. William was the only other Faery near me currently, but it would do no good for even him to notice my ire toward our Rulers.
"Regardless, she should have been given the choice," I argued, Miss Valenta looking to me in shock. Had nobody tried to fight for her rights?
"Have you had your Last Rites read to you?"
She shook her head, mumbling, "I don't believe in the New Gods."
Fair enough, I didn't either. Grabbing out the pocket-sized book I carried, full of prayers from the Old Gods, I opened it, passing it over to her. She ran her fingers over the worn-down, soft cover, sniffling again. William scoffed at the horror on the Guards faces. The Old Gods were outlawed in this part of the world, but who was going to stop me? The Holly King? The Oak Queen? Neither of them would dare attempt to kill a Captain of the Mad King.
Already, Miss Valenta's heart was beginning to slow in its racing. Death-row prisoners were like wild horses. They needed to be calmed.
"Can you read?" Some prisoners needed the prayers read to them. If it was the case here, I would read whatever prayer she wanted.
She snorted through her nose at the question, palming slowly through the pages, caressing the names of well-known prayers. Her eyes flicked over the words confidently enough, but it could be a clever con. Plenty of people clung to their ego, right until the end.
The Guards retrieved the hood once again from where it laid on the ground, and the woman beside me went stiff again, her fingers tightening on the book, nearly puncturing one of the pages with her fingernails. I laid my hand on her arm, and her eyes shot to me, looking for reassurance.
"Miss, if you are facing the noose, it is better if you cannot see it."
She looked wholly unconvinced, her breathing coming faster, her heart skipping a beat in its chest.
"What's your name?" I asked to distract her. The Guards were approaching once again.
She gasped down a little breath, stammering out, "Enessa."
"Enessa Valenta." Her name rolled off my tongue like silk slid over a body, "That is a beautiful name." It was also a Fae name. I scanned her again, as subtly as I could. She was definitely human. Round ears, long black hair, plain skin dotted with freckles and other markings.
"My older sister is a Half-Fae," she said, answering my unspoken question, like she got the look a lot. I smiled apologetically at her, until she added, "Veralyn Valenta."
William choked on the next bite of his pastry, hacking it up, the little ball of half-chewed dough rolling into the mud and snow at his feet as he stammered, "The Holly King's daughter?!"
That was why her name was familiar?! She was related to Fae Royalty?
I paused, looking to the three Guards for confirmation. They all nodded. I swallowed thickly.
The Oak Queen must have acorns made from steel, to be executing the half-sister of the Crown Princess of Thorne. She must have been trying to start a damned war!
The Thorn of Thorne was her nickname in Faeren. Everyone knew the Holly King had planned to marry her to the Mad King.
A bell tolled through the town, summoning people to the execution. She whimpered.
"Were you allowed to see your sister? Have a final meal? Anything?" I questioned. She shook her head, her black hair swaying.
The Oak Queen must have lost her damned mind. I would need to let the Mad King know about this once we returned to Faeren. He might be so angry with the Oak Queen that he forgot about my own failure...
"You know what, I think you should hold onto that for now." I brandished to the prayer book, her knuckles turning white around it. It might bring her comfort while she hung, although I doubted anything could bring comfort while you died of suffocation.
If she hadn't been allowed to see her family, there would be no familiar faces in the crowd for her. From the sounds of it, the Oak Queen had arranged this funeral in the hopes that it would be completed too quickly for the Mad King, or the Thorn of Thorne, to prevent it.
"Do you want me to come with you?"
She nodded, her eyes glazing over in a daze, the three Guards stepping forward again.
"No hood," she begged desperately, snapped back to reality at the sight of the dirty hessian cloth, "I don't want to be blinded."
"Very well. No hood," I murmured, rising and extending my hand to her like she was a Princess and not a prisoner. Her fingers were clammy as she held my hand, the other still gripping the prayer book like it would save her.
We walked silently through the streets, more people appearing the closer we got to the Town Square, where she would meet her end. She drifted numbly at my side, anchored by my hand and the prayer book. Her tears had dried up.
From the corner of a building, an Oak Court Faery spat, "Thief!"
"I didn't steal anything!" She breathed in horror, "Not this time!"
Thief. The word rattled through my brain like sand in a baby rattle. Thief. Thief. Thief.
William and I's eyes met in unison. He dipped his chin in agreement.
I let a tangle of my Magic drift over to him, sinking through the wall around his mind.
'Contact the Mad King at once. See if he can get this girl pardoned immediately.' I didn't have the jurisdiction to save her, but he did.
William and I had come to Thorne to find a master thief crazy enough to help us steal from a King of Faeren.
This girl was a thief who might just be desperate enough to help us in what very well could be a suicide mission.
Fate was funny sometimes.
William dipped his chin, a subtle acceptance of the orders, and peeled down a side-street. He would use Magic to contact the Mad King. I only hoped he got through in time.
We had maybe five minutes at the most before this opportunity was swaying in the wind.
The Town Square of Thorne was a circle with seven streets heading in different directions, forming the Faery Star- the Faeren Crest. The houses here were two or three storeys tall, each one made from dark black bricks that were covered in frost, making them shine in the sun. An artist's easel sat off to the side, Enessa studying the canvas on it, seeming to calm for a second at the sight of the painting. It was of sun-kissed fields in Faeren, with a little cottage. Nothing too special, when put side-by-side to the rest of Faeren.
Compared to this place, it must have looked like the Summerland for Enessa.
An unmelting winter, that was what all of the world faced if I didn't find that damned artifact, and the Mad King did not replenish Faery Magic.
For thousands of years, the Holly King and the Oak Queen battled. Faeren allied with the Oak Queen simply because eternal Spring was much better than eternal Winter.
Looking at the frostbitten faces of the people who now watched me escort a woman to her death, I didn't want to experience the cold bite of winter for the rest of my life.
'William, how's it going?'
'He isn't answering yet!'
I steeled myself with a deep breath. We had time. Not long, but enough, hopefully.
The gallows had been made from wood, erected overnight, the rope that would end Enessa's life swaying gently in the wind. She shivered, her fingernails leaving crescent moons in my palm. How many times had I made this very same walk, escorting a myriad of prisoners? Plenty of people had clutched that same prayer book until the life left their eyes.
All a part of the training. Keep calm, talk to them like an old friend, offer support. Keep talking. Letting the silence sink in, allowing them to think about what was about to happen, was the worst thing you could do.
The crowd had gone quiet. It seemed Enessa was mostly unknown to them. Interesting. The Guards had seemed more familiar with her than these people did. She must not have come from the East District, where she was about to be hung.
I swiped my thumb over the back of her hand, murmuring an Old Gods prayer I had learnt off by heart for this very moment. She whispered along with me absentmindedly, her voice trembling. Those too-keen eyes of her swept over the crowd, looking for her sister, her voice constricting when she could not see her.
"I'm here," I reassured before she could begin panicking at the lack of familiar faces, "Do you know the next words in the prayer?" Distract her, and she would keep calm. The calmer, the better.
"Uh... Um... Through the tall oak trees, along the edge of dreams, Cenunnos comes calling-" Her words caught in her tongue, her gaze snagging on something up on the gallows. A golden bracelet on a pillow. The bracelet was being held up by a green-eyed Faery with a sneer on his face. Her jaw clenched. The scent around her wavered, becoming a deep, deadly fury. Bottomless in wrath. That was the kind of fury I expected to come from a Faery. Her sister must have rubbed off on her.
"YOU!" She seethed, throwing my hand away from hers as she tried to storm up the steps, the Guards wrestling her to her knees at the top step, the green-eyed Faery snorting.
"You set me up!" She screamed wildly, "'A few nights in a cell' you promised! 'Nothing you haven't endured before!' I haven't endured this! You lied to me!" Everyone paused, looking between the two of them.
The green-eyed Faery met her eyes coldly, and he purred, "I have no idea who you are." He turned to the crowd, chuckling, "The lies of a desperate woman."
The crowd laughed with him.
A barrage of insults left her lips as two Guards dragged her over to the noose. I hurried up the steps, studying the green-eyed Faery. He wasn't anyone I recognised, but I knew that bracelet. It belonged to the Oak Queen, just some useless piece of junk she used to plump up her vaults when travelling.
By the Green, this male had stolen from the Oak Queen, and framed a human for it.
And he was about to get away with it!
My voice was desperate as I asked, 'William?'
'Nothing. I'm sorry! He isn't answering!'
Damn it!
Enessa was hyperventilating again, the green-eyed Faery being escorted away by a group of Guards. He was important enough to require an escort, then. I would need to track him down afterwards. Why steal from the Oak Queen? Just for bragging rights? Compared to the other, magical jewellery in her possession, why go for a plain gold bracelet? It seemed only I noticed the way the Green-Eyed man swiped the bracelet as he walked by, dropping it into his pocket.
Enessa had proclaimed her innocence earlier, when that Oak Court Faery had called her a thief. She'd said she hadn't stolen, not this time. Which meant she was a thief, just not in this instance.
We needed a thief.
William and I had been scouring Thorne, asking every thief we could find, and all of them had refused to accept our mission. They called it suicide, madness.
Only the Mad King could halt the execution, but he was about to miss his chance.
An executioner approached, standing to the left of her, reaching for the noose, placing it around her neck. She stiffened, squeaking in fear, and a man from the Oak Court unrolled a scroll, reading aloud, She clutched the prayer book closer, scanning the crowd again.
"I want to see my sister!" She pleaded, "I didn't steal the Oak Queen's bracelet! I swear!"
Gods, if you were listening, let the Mad King pardon her now. Let the stupid parchment appear in my hand right this very moment so I could give this woman a second chance.
The executioner tightened the noose, and she flinched, letting out a shuddering breath. Her knees wobbled on the platform that would soon drop away.
'William!' I shouted into my mind desperately, 'Will, we need this girl! There is nobody else in Thorne willing to help us!'
My friend didn't answer, but I felt his own desperation and despair. Fuck! Fuck!
"Enessa Valenta, daughter of George and Elizabeth Valenta, sister to Princess Veralyn Valenta, we hereby sentence you to death. May the Summerland be warm and kind to you."
Tears dripped onto the wooden platform from Enessa's eyes. I heard the shift of wood as the executioner gripped the lever, beginning to tug it.
I jammed my hands into my pockets, trying to stop myself from intervening in some way, my fingers brushing against the scroll the King had given me when I first began his mission to retrieve the missing artifact.
An idea popped into my head. It was reckless and would definitely get me killed, but fuck it!
I unsheathed my sword at the same time the platform fell out from underneath Enessa.
I sliced through the rope that would have held her up, the crowd gasping as I pulled out the rolled up scroll, shouting, "The Mad King has pardoned her! Look!" Repeating the order in Faereveyn, I shook the scroll, preventing any Faeries who might be in the crowd from getting too close a look at it, glancing over my shoulder to Enessa where she now wobbled in the dirt underneath the platform. Her wide eyes looked up at me, the blood rushing from her face.
She dropped to her knees.
And then slumped into the mud.