Last Fae

Chapter 27 ~ Elders

It was another two days before I was allowed to leave my room. I had been pacing the cramped floor for hours. I had watched the sky turn from impenetrable darkness to bright sunny day through the high window on the back wall above my bed.

Mum, or Salina as she had advised me to call her until the Elders had decided my fate, was supposed to be here when the arrived. She was supposed to get here early and walk with me to the meeting. I'd asked her to stay with me but she had other things to attend to. At least that's what she'd said. Now I was starting to think she just didn't want to be here.

Footsteps outside my door halted my pacing. The jingle of keys being pulled out and the scrape of the key entering the lock. I held my breath eyes fixated on the featureless door. It released soft groan as it was pushed open.

I stepped back.

Two men dressed in black stood in the doorway. They both had guns strapped to their sides and knives at their backs. They looked similar to the Fae who had shot me. Milan, I think Salina had called him. Their features were different but the way they dressed and how they held themselves it was as if they had been trained. Like an army or a guard.

The Fae had always been peaceful. We used our tricks and our wits to get us out of tricky situations and could resort to hand to hand combat only if our lives were at stake. But we didn't use weapons, not knives and especially not guns.

The two men didn't say a word as they strode into the room and grabbed me by the arms. I tried not to resist as they dragged me from the room. They walked just fast enough that I had to struggle to keep up with them. Pain jolted from my chest, resounding through my body with every step.

We strode down a long corridor lined with blanked doors just like the one I had been hidden behind for the last few days. The sterile smell of a hospital clouding the air. When we reached the glass doors to the world outside I faltered and was met with a forceful tug.

"Keep moving." The gruff voice of the Fae to my right grunted at me.

The world outside looked identical to the Earth they said I had left behind. The sun was a familiar glow in the sky above, the trees were various shades of green, the occasional orange tinge seeping through. The ground beneath my feet was firm and solid. A gentle breeze pulled goosebumps from my skin.

I took a deep lungful of the fresh air. Savouring the flavour of the outside world. My head turned from side to side trying to take in everything we were striding passed. Brick houses lined the street, each one immersed in its own mini forest, a shroud of trees shielding it from its neighbours.

They weren't traditional Fae houses; the growth and coercion of trees to form unique dwellings that were alive and natural. These were human houses. Built rather than created. Not alive but dead.

Was everything I'd known gone? Were all of the traditions and beliefs a thing of the past? What were the Elders for if not to maintain our history. Who we are?

We marched on. The crunch of the loose gravel underfoot was the only sound to be heard. It was like we'd stepped into a ghost town. Not a single person walked the streets, not even a stray animal to be seen.

"Where is everyone?" I asked, doubtful that anyone would answer the question. The only acknowledgement I received was a prod in the back.

As we got further down the street a few Fae poked their heads out of their houses. They stared, probably intrigued by the swirl of colours that was my aura. The twisting swirls of violet and silver that waged an endless battle for dominance.

Once we were passed them they crept outside and started to follow us down the street. The longer we walked the greater the gathered crowd became until the crunch of gravel turned to a constant grind of feet.

I ignored them as much as I could. The urge to search each face that appeared was almost overwhelming. If not for the iron grip on both my arms I would have conceded and turned around to face the crowd. How many of those faces would I recognise? How many of them would remember me?

We marched on and a wall rose up ahead of us. A single, multistory building stood at the end of the street. It was almost church-like in appearance with its pointed turrets, stained glass windows and smooth sandstone appearance. It had no doors, just a wide arching entrance hall a couple of metres deep.

The walls of the entrance were scarred with carvings of Mythics. Or Traitors as the Fae were calling them now. There were Vampires, Witches, Dragons, Wolves, Sirens, and Daemons all lined up in neat rows. Droplets of blood fell from their bulging eyes and nooses looped roped necklaces around their necks.

I sucked in a deep breath as we passed by the scene. I closed my eyes; trying to shut out the image. But behind closed eyes, Kellan took the place of the Wolves. Brave, little Tia took the place of the Witches. Darren, the place of the Daemons. On and on.

"Death to the Traitors." Every Fae who entered must have whispered the words. They echoed back and forth. When the words started to fade another wave would repeat them and they would loop around again. It was an endless tirade.

I knew too many Mythics. It had barely been two weeks since I was kidnapped and I knew too many Mythics too well to wish this torturous death upon them.

How had the Elders managed to convince everyone that their version of events was true? I had believed it too. I sighed. But I had been isolated and alone. Surely, together, they could have realised the truth. That nowhere near as many Fae died that night as we had seen fall.

We stepped from the tunnelled entrance and a hush fell over the gathered crowd behind us. We had entered a cavernous chamber. The building was a single room, the ceiling was domed and must have been a few stories up. The shuffle of feet was the only sound, but even that was enough to make the room sound crowded and busy. The noise bounced around, bounding up the walls, hitting the ceiling and diving back down to its origins.

Violet banners lined the walls. They matched the purple rug that ran from the entrance to the raised platform at the opposite end of the room. On the dais were seven chairs. Each one held an Elder.

"Why are there seven?" I whispered under my breath. The whole room froze.

Up ahead the central Elder raised a single finger from where it rested on the arm of his chair and the crowd released a collective breath. We started moving again.

There should only be five Elders at a time. There had always been five.