Fae Conundrum

[Flamebird]

A purple sky, coated in clouds and sprinkled with stars, hung over the landscape. Raiaera's ill grasslands hosted a few sick trees, spotted here and there. The village they entered was pathetic. Hatch roofed cottages were poorly designed. The sheer amount of waste, mud, and overgrown pastures were enough to make one vomit. Felicity had to cover her nose as she followed her half-elf teacher towards a pub.

Lightning bugs swarmed around the flame lit lanterns as her teacher boldly marched through thick mud. The brown ooze was putrid, Felicity was sure it was not just mud they were walking through, yet the woman paid no notice. About ready to puke, the fifteen year old waded through the squishy stuff with clear revolt on her face. She had no idea why they were here.

“A-Ash – I mean!” Felicity kept forgetting her mentor’s new, weird pet peeve, “Ayleth, what are we doing here?”

Ayleth guided them towards a larger building, triple times as long as the tiny stick houses. The hay roofed building was surprisingly reinforced with stone. The hanging sign above the door read The Mad Stallion. A tavern.

Ayleth stepped up the small, two steps. She tracked mud and horse dung behind her, “A mass murderer named Evander Songsliver frequents this pub. We’re here to end his crime spree.”

Felicity was weirded out by her choice of words. Then again, it made sense. Ashla recently lost her husband. It tore her apart so much, she left everything else behind. While sailing a passenger boat, Ashla kept to herself, alone in her quarters. She barely ate, rarely coming out the entire trip. Not wanting to disturb her after such a loss, Felicity let her be. Right after they landed in Raiaera, Ashla seemed dead set on some sort of goal she kept hidden from her. Felicity only could hope Ashla – or Ayleth’s – darker mood was only a temporary result of grief.

“The nearest Bladesinger is, like, twenty miles away,” Felicity protested, “Are we really going to escort him the whole way?”

Ayleth did not respond, instead opening the shabby door to the pub. The moment the door opened, they were met with the lonely sound of a bard strumming his off tune lute, attempting to master it. The rum even smelled awful, the elven inhabitants barely drank it. Instead, only a small group gambled in the corner as several others spoke of their hopeless businesses over a round, crude oak table. The pub was quiet and depressed. Felicity doubted there was a criminal master housing here.

Ayleth seemed more sure of it, boldly walking towards the tavern. The quite sad looking bartender, with a pathetic frame and long, thin, greasy hair, continued to rub a stain off his counter. “How may I-“

Ayleth cut him off, her voice loud and stern, “Evander Songsliver. Where is he?”

The group of talking elves turned from their mushy, tasteless mashed potatoes. They watched the young woman with intrigued discomfort in their blank eyes. Felicity felt butterflies flutter in her stomach as deathly silence ensued. Several long, uneasy seconds later, Ashla sharply pulled a dagger. Felicity gasped in shock as her leader pointed it at the keep. In a bitter, quiet, emotionless voice, she threatened, “I asked you a question. If you don’t answer me, I will hurt you.”

The tavern keep immediately voiced Felicity’s bewildered, frightened thoughts, “You-you can’t-“

The brunette jumped onto the filthy counter. The growing crowd of spectators shouted in shock as she drove her boot into his chin, sending him back. His back hit the shelf behind him. He fell, a multitude of empty shot glasses falling around him. Some hit his body, letting blood.

Felicity extended her hand, stepping forward in stunned horror, “Ash-“

Ayleth shouted this time, a dark seriousness to be heard in her voice, “It will be the knife next time! Tell me, where is he!?!”

Terrified, obviously, he cried out in horror, “In the back! My only bedroom! Go take him, just please spare me!”

As he held his various cuts from the glass, Ayleth lowered her blade. Apathy stung as she put it away, “Thank you.”

She hopped down the counter. Felicity watched, pale and wide eyed, as Ayleth stormed past her. “Come, Felicity.”

Felicity only could take a couple frightened steps towards the entryway Ayleth swung open. She disappeared into the dark room. Felicity stood there, sick to her stomach, as the sound of a sword unsheathing sounded. Then…

*Slithk!*

A gasp, a cry, a whimper… Silence .

Felicity finally lost her lunch.

Several moments after the murder, Ayleth emerged from the room. Blood stained her black blouse. Her sword was in its sheath, but she held a blood stained rag in her hand. She tossed it into a garbage tray like it was nothing of concern. Zero emotion showed on her ice cold face as she stalked towards the door, “Job done. Let’s move on.”

As she disappeared out of the door, Felicity’s mind spun. Lightheaded, she barely kept her balance. Fear bolted through her body, devastating like lightning, as she stood frozen.

She-she’s just- Tears welded up as she vainly comforted herself, It-It’s a phase, that’s all! The grief is getting to her. She’ll be back to her old self soon… right?

As tears pounded the floor, her heart thudded with the weight of lead. When she heard her name called from the door, it took every ounce of strength in her being to follow. Her steps were hesitant and full of foreboding.

~ ~ ~

An unstable creak pulled her out of the trance. Atop the branch, she gazed upon the frozen over roof. Wait, was that… a blade buzzsawing through wood?

She eyes grew to the size of dinner plates as she looked down. A shriek escaped her as she cried, “YVONNE!”

She hastily leapt down the entire tree. Her sturdy frame barely took the collision with the earth, dealt no harm. She had landed on her feet, a dirt cloud floating after the thud. She rose, eyes riddled with panic and fear. It seemed unnatural, the way she took a step back, throwing her hand. “What were you thinking?!” The scream rang across the ruined street. All the people nearby stopped and stared at the growing scene. Freshly awoken from a traumatic flashback, Felicity had an unbridled rage and terrified fear behind her voice. She was pale, sweating, shaking. Yvonne seemed speechless, shocked, as the redhead continued to rant, “Who knows where this tree could fall! It could of killed me or toppled over the house, you-“

With a bellowing moan, the tree fell safely against the ground, diagonal from the yard. Right next to it, the broken seesaw awaited its reforging. As the branches and leaves still resounded in shaken defeat, the seventeen year old fumed, regardless of the safe outcome.

She started to hyperventilate. Ice cold eyes, frozen, zapped in and out of vision. The sounds. Oh, those terrible sounds of death, torture, screaming. Red. The color red resonated in her mind. Right there, Yvonne stood. Right there. Was Yvonne just like her? The question was ridiculous, but the all consuming anxiety cared not. Fear. So much fear. She gasped, her chest tightening in pain as a mass panic attack shredded her violently to pieces; from the inside out.

Her thoughts were disjointed, broken.

Need to get away! Run! Run!

What if this bond she had so fondly forged broke like that again?

She'll bring you pain! Hurt you!

It happened once, it would happen every other time.

RUN!

Felicity turned and ran away from it all.

Fear.

Fight or flight kicked in. Flight won.

Unrelenting fear.

Tears fell from her face, leaving a trail of agony behind.

Unbearable fear.

She cried, mouth gaped. Eyesight blurred. Tunnel vision took over. She had no idea where she was running.

She just had to run.

Fear.