Sprite

Valin slipped away quietly, his feet making barely a mark on the snowy ground. He needed to get away, if not to his own bright world, then at least to someplace untainted by human presence. It was happening again. That man, Norah’s other grandfather, saw too much. Valin had caught him looking at the three of them, measuring, comparing. It wouldn’t be long before he realized that the sprites were not mutants. How much longer before he noticed their one weakness and used it against them?

Valin shook his head angrily. Hadn’t he tried the same thing once with disastrous results?

He found himself at the nexus where the watery gate had sent him in answer to his unspoken desire to return to the one place in the mortal world where he had once been happy. As with Leane’s gate, his had deepened into a woodland pool, frozen now and covered with a layer of snow. Neistah’s gate had brought him very near to Valin’s. Was that his son’s desire? Had Neistah finally forgiven him for abandoning him all those years ago? Their twin ponds now converged to form an hourglass not far from Hanan’s estate.

Valin knelt down and laid his palms flat against the snow, pressing down until he touched the frozen surface of his pond. Steam rose gently to frame his face as the ice melted beneath his touch.

Desire. He hadn’t meant to love Ree, the mortal woman who bore his half-mortal children with their legacy of bright red hair. She thought him a foreign prince, which he was, after a fashion, although more foreign than she ever dreamed. Unlike Neistah, Valin never flaunted his differences. At the beginning, Valin planned to seduce a mortal girl and take the child. His own touch of mortal blood would have made it possible. But he had grown to like Ree and Arlin, her warrior brother, and when the first child was born, Mira bright of hair with her mother’s laughing eyes, Valin stayed. He used his influence to dampen their mortal perceptions. Whatever differences they saw in his children they attributed to Valin’s foreignness, and overlooked the rest. Ree suspected. She was the children’s mother, and Valin’s lover. Her people had legends of his kind, but they were of the bright ones, godlike and cruel, not of the watery ones like him who tended to be more capricious and self-indulgent. Valin was careful never to let her see him swim, and, unspoken, she kept their children away from the water also. Yes, Ree knew that what she had married was not exactly human, but she never said a word, not even to Valin himself.

He did not consider himself unfaithful to Anais. Ree was mortal. He and Anais were not. Sprites took their pleasure where they would, but their hearts they only gave away once. Anais had Valin’s heart. She had sent him to the mortal lands and asked him to make a child with a human woman. Neistah had been their only child, for all their trying. It was the same with all of the sprites. If Valin had betrayed Anais and the rest of the sprites, it was by not bringing his half-human offspring to faerie immediately after their birth. He’d thought he had time. Circumstances had proven him wrong.

Arlin tossed Valin a metal-tipped spear and the point grazed Valin’s arm. He hissed in pain at the unexpected contact, and quickly grabbed the wooden shaft, turning the iron spearhead away from him. Arlin’s eyes widened as he saw the weeping red burn across Valin’s arm. That was the first time.

After that, Arlin watched Valin carefully. Valin was just as careful not to let himself come into contact with iron in Arlin’s presence. But it was inevitable in a warrior society. Valin’s own sword had a carefully wrapped handle but the blade was of necessity iron. He was quick enough that even during battles, he could avoid being cut. Iron weakened him nonetheless, and Valin caught Arlin looking at him speculatively more than once.

There were other signs as well. Ree aged, but Valin didn’t. Their oldest, Mira, was nearly grown, and the youngest barely walking. Valin should have shown some signs of aging. Not only Arlin eyed him uneasily. Villagers muttered the word ‘fay’ beneath their breaths, and wouldn’t look in his eyes, which made it hard for Valin to exert his influence on them. Except for their bright red hair, his half-mortal children showed none of Valin’s other attributes, unlike Norah, who carried his blood on both sides. Still, the others, Arlin first among them, cast suspicious gazes on his offspring too.

That awful day, when instead of attacking the enemy, Arlin suddenly turned his sword on Valin and cut across his cheek, opening up a blood gate to faerie, Valin had no choice but to abandon his mortal children, and Ree. Arlin and his followers had chased him through the ripped-open gate into faerie, poisoning the land with their iron weapons and tainted human blood. Valin had fought them, then, but they would have died eventually anyway. The land protected itself, even as it died.

Valin lay, panting, on faerie ground. Dead mortal bodies surrounded him, Arlin’s closest, with Valin’s mortal sword buried in Arlin’s chest. Already the land blackened all around them, and the air pulsed fiercely with the forced gate as Valin’s own blood dripped steadily onto the ground. Shakily, he wiped at his bloody cheek and closed his eyes, willing the vertigo to subside. He didn’t know how long he lay there, half-expecting more mortal incursions through the gaping blood gate. Eventually, he got to his feet. The land remained blackened and dead, but there was no trace of the mortal bodies who had lain there beside him. The gate now shimmered faintly, and blood flowers dotted the far side. Only Valin could use the gate now. He shuddered, and turned away.

Much later, perhaps years later by mortal standards, Valin went back to the mortal realm. The village where he had lived with Ree and his children was gone, destroyed quite some time ago from the looks of it. Anais held him while he wept, for Ree and for the children who could have strengthened their bloodline.

Valin had never known until he met Norah that not all of his offspring had perished that fateful day. Some must have survived, and continued his bloodline into the present. Water bubbled under his hands, sending a cloud of steam into the air. When the opening was large enough, Valin slid through into the frigid water and immediately arrowed for the bottom in search of the gate that led back to the great northern lake. Desire was an elusive thing. The gate no longer existed, or rather, Valin did not desire it strongly enough. He thought briefly of opening a vein, creating another blood gate here underwater where it would pose little risk, but decided against it. Using a blood gate would be his last resort, should Avery prove to be another Arlin.

X x X x X x X x X

For some reason, Jenny wasn’t afraid of Leane. She climbed onto the sprite woman’s lap, much to Leane’s delight, and snuggled against her while Norah sat uncomfortably across the room.

‘She knows you are your mother’s favorite,’ Leane commented gently, making Norah sit up in surprise. Miriam’s favorite? It wasn’t true, and anyway, Jenny was too young to read such inferences. ‘You think so? I don’t. Norah, for all that you are one of ours, you’re one of theirs too, and your little sister knows it. She will come around. You’ll see.’

Norah had her doubts. Her grandfather, Alan Avery, had not spoken one word to her since her little revelation in the kitchen. Right now, he was in Papa’s old den, arguing with her parents over her very existence. So far, they’d had the presence of mind not to mention Neistah, who was thankfully absent from this little gathering.

Alan Avery stormed into the parlor, trailed by Miriam and Jim. He halted when he saw Leane holding the toddler, and his eyes narrowed further when he spied Norah. “Where’s the other one?” he demanded. Without waiting for a reply, he launched into another tirade. Waving his arms at the two sprites, he sputtered, “You mean to tell me that it was coincidence that these two share exactly the same mutations?”

“They found each other because they shared the same mutations.” Jim tried placating Avery. “If you remember, I captured the first Sprite years ago, and stories about him have been floating around ever since. Is it any wonder that people with similar mutations would seek out others like them?”

Avery’s eyes took on a calculating gleam. “Yes, you did find the first Sprite, didn’t you? Right around here, wasn’t it? Though I heard he escaped right before you and Miriam got married.” His gaze swiveled to Norah. “Interesting, isn’t it?”

“What are you implying, Father?” Miriam asked, although her face had paled. Many of the changelings had been present when Norah’s true parentage had come to light. Any one of them might spill the truth if pressed.

“Who is she?” he demanded, pointing straight at Norah. “Is she my granddaughter at all?”

Norah didn’t think his words would pierce her through the way they did. Her heart felt like a stone in her chest. She wished she was anywhere but here.

“Of course she’s your granddaughter! Just because she has. . . .”

“Don’t tell me that! I know what your grandfather was up to! I heard the stories. One of the men who helped capture the Sprite came to work for me after. He told me some things, which at the time I dismissed as foolish superstition, but now I’m not so sure. Norah!” He grabbed a metal fireplace poker and tossed it across the room.

Norah made an awkward grab for it, nearly impaling herself in the process. She stood, holding the poker firmly in both hands, and glared in affront at her grandfather. Leane, still holding Jenny, was amused. ‘Good thing he threw it to you and not me,’ she sent. ‘Look at his face!’

The man seemed astounded that Norah had not flinched at all at the touch of iron.

“Father!” Miriam shouted in shock. “You could have hurt her!”

Avery’s jaw tightened. “Obviously, I didn’t,” he said, turning on his heel and striding out of the room. “I’ll be leaving shortly. Don’t think this is over.”

Norah couldn’t take the pitying looks her parents were giving her. “Excuse me,” she murmured, pushing her way past them into the hallway. She wished she could swim, but it was too cold and everything was frozen over. Not for the first time, she regretted leaving Anais’ bright world. Grabbing her coat and a pair of the deerskin boots that went over her feet without rubbing against her ankle fins, Norah went outside, squinting in the reflected glare off the snow.

“Norah, wait!” Will called to her from the porch. He ran down the steps, slowing to match her pace. “I’ll walk with you. Roselle’s taking a nap.”

Miriam still would not allow Roselle and Will to stay together, but she let them spend time alone in Norah’s old room during the day, since they were eventually to be married. Norah nodded to Will. She could use the company. They left the muddied pathways near the mansion and made tracks through the woods. Norah headed for Black Pond, just for a place to go, even though she knew she couldn’t go swimming. Will took her arm when they had to climb over fallen tree limbs.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asked. Dampness soaked into the hem of her long gown where it dragged in the snow.

“No. Are you?” Norah cocked an eyebrow at Will, knowing full well his layer of fur, his particular mutation, kept him very warm indeed. She felt it through the touch of his hand on her arm.

Will smiled. “No,” he answered.

Norah relaxed against him. “I still can’t believe you and Roselle are having a baby,” she said wistfully. “That’s wonderful.”

“Yeah,” Will replied. “It is. Norah—if only I had known about you earlier, things might have been so different. I love Roselle, but you--.”

Norah stopped walking. “You never even looked at me until—until you found out I was a sprite,” she said. “Don’t pretend it ever was otherwise.”

“You wish it had been, though, don’t you?” Will put his hands on her shoulders. “I was a fool, Norah. I should have realized.”

“I am the same!” Norah replied angrily, pulling away. “I even tried to tell you, but you didn’t listen. What does it matter what I am? Either you love me or you don’t!”

“I love you!” Will replied desperately.

“No, you love what I am,” Norah said, folding her arms. “Not me.”

“It’s the same thing!” Will tried to kiss Norah, who wrenched herself away from him, stumbling a little in the snow.

“Go back to Roselle,” Norah said, brushing snow off her gown. “Whatever I am, you can’t be, and that’s what you really want.” As she said the words, Norah realized they were true, and she felt a little sad, as if she’d just lost something precious. Will stood before her, shocked into silence at last. “Go home,” she told him wearily.

When he still didn’t move, Norah did. She ran, glancing once over her shoulder to see if he would follow her, but he stood as if frozen where she’d left him, staring after her. Norah blinked away tears, knowing they were only for what might have been, once. She hoped Leane was right, and once she put some distance between her and Will, the pull she exerted on him would fade, and he would forget his attraction to her—or rather, to the sprite that she was.

She ran faster, wishing she could swim, wishing she could go somewhere nobody knew her. A jagged stick poked up out of the snow, a snapped branch that had fallen during the storm. Norah tripped, and the stick grazed her left leg, leaving a bloody scratch on her shin. “Ow,” she said, sitting down in the snow.

Norah didn’t think she was that badly hurt, but she heard a roaring in her ears, and her head felt as if it were wrapped in a fog. No, wait. It was fog! The snow around her was melting steadily, throwing up waves of fog that completely obscured her vision. Norah rubbed her leg, which had already stopped bleeding, and moved to try to escape the fog. Should she call out for Will? She took a step, and suddenly the fog was gone, her winter coat was much too warm, and she found herself face to face with Breyan. Breyan!

He caught her arms, pulling her close to him. ‘Norah, I heard you calling me,’ he sent, pressing little kisses on her hair. ‘What have you done?’ His eyes roved beyond her, to the gaping hole that still spewed gobs of fog into faerie. Norah looked, too, at the mortal world she had just stepped out of—this time there had been none of the shimmery vagueness that usually marked a pathway into faerie.

‘I—didn’t,’ Norah replied in confusion. ‘I was running, I fell . . .’

Immediately Breyan ran his hands over her, taking off the heavy coat, tugging at her boots. His hands paused at the scratch on her leg. ‘You just did this?’ he asked. Norah nodded. Breyan closed his eyes and concentrated. If he was speaking mind to mind, Norah didn’t hear it. Breyan drew him to him, and wrapped one arm around him as he faced the opening between worlds. Through it, Norah could hear thrashing in the distance and a muffled voice—Will—calling her name. She involuntarily started forward, but Breyan held her tighter, shaking his head slightly.

A little while later, Lara and Anais appeared, both uncommonly dressed in light armor of overlapping wooden slats and more of the silky garments the exact color of their own hair. They carried what looked to be swords, although they were a buttery brown color. Their expressions were grim.

‘A blood gate,’ Lara said. ‘We will have to guard it until it fades. Breyan, take Norah to Anais’ pool for now. It does her no good to be here, and we can’t let her go back in case she draws others to the portal.’

A blood gate? Where had Norah heard that expression before? ‘What about Will?’ she asked anxiously. She could still hear him faintly on the other side.

Anais touched her arm gently. ‘Go with Breyan. I will speak to your mortal lover. Have no fear, I will not let him cross. He will be safe.’

‘Safe?’ Norah realized what Anais had said and her face flamed. ‘He’s not—he’s not my lover,’ she said belatedly. ‘He’s my friend. He’s just worried about me. Shouldn’t we find him and let him know I’m all right? He’s been to faerie before. Neistah said so.’

Breyan kissed the top of her head. ‘It’s all right,’ he sent. ‘If he’s your lover. I can wait.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘You’ll always come back to me.’

‘He’s not!’ Norah insisted.

‘Norah, he can’t come here,’ Anais said gently. ‘Did not your father explain that the boy’s mortal blood poisoned the land? The place where Neistah brought him still lies dead and unusable. At the time, there was no help for it. Neistah took the mortal boy away before the land could return the favor. For all that boy’s wishing, he can never belong here. I will speak with him. I’ll make sure he gets home safely.’

Norah let Breyan lead her away. Her coat and boots sat in a forlorn little pile at the edge of the blood gate, which still pulsed angrily, a mere step away from the mortal world. The last thing she saw before they rounded a bend was Anais stepping through the breach, splendid in her faerie armor, and Lara, garbed similarly, standing at attention at the very brink of the gate.

X x X x X x X x X

On his way back to the Hanan estate, Neistah paused, listening intently. The other changeling patrols had made it through the storm relatively unscathed, and Neistah had found them in the process of aiding the very people who had been hunting them, much as Neistah had done himself with the stranded road crew he’d led back to Datro. Neistah had left them to their efforts after informing them that the Hanan lands were to be considered a safe haven for their kind.

Another group was just ahead. It seemed like they were coming from the Hanan estate, which didn’t make much sense. Warily, Neistah made his way around the back of their group. Sure enough, these were hunters, armed to the teeth, and disgruntled about something. None of them appeared injured; in fact, they appeared quite well-fed and rested. Still wary, Neistah approached, not allowing the hunters to catch a glimpse of him just yet. There was more here than met the eye. However, he spied several of Miriam’s homemade lunch baskets hanging off the arms of some of the men, and he relaxed. They must have stopped at the Hanan place, then.

Relieved, Neistah stepped out, intending to make his presence known. As the hunters became aware of him, several guns swiveled in his direction. A tall man with dark hair and a grim expression strode forward. “Grab him,” he said gruffly. Immediately, his hunters surged forward, abandoning their guns for chains made of iron. Neistah, taken by surprise, found himself immobilized before he could react. The iron drained his strength and he slumped, dazed, to the cold ground.