Axylia — Elia (1)

There was a yell in the distance. Elia panted as she sprinted through the trees. Her face, hooked nose and thick brows, were thrown into sharp relief by the moonlight. Her eyes were focused on the ground, looking out for anything she might possibly trip on.

There was definitely someone chasing her. She’d known there would be, when she had climbed over the wall and disappeared into the forest. There had been twenty of the King’s Guard right there. At least one would have taken up pursuit.

Elia didn’t know of any safe spaces nearby. Kelir was surrounded by mountains, and she’d never learned the pathways through them like the travelling merchants. She’d never even left the city walls before, and now she was fleeing. If she ran into anyone else… Her platinum hair and sea-green eyes, the defining marks of Fae, would betray her. In the human land of Kelle, she broke the law by breathing.

Her pursuer seemed to be getting closer and closer. Elia threw a wild look over her shoulder to see if she could see the soldier, and it cost her. She sprawled onto the ground, her ankle twisting underneath her and immediately blossoming in pain. She quickly rolled under some low-hanging branches, and peered through the leaves.

The man had evidently seen Elia fall, as he stopped nearby her — but he didn’t seem to know where she had gone. He looked around for a moment, dark, shoulder length hair falling across his face.

“Come out, come out, little fairy,” he crooned. “Come on, ye nasty —”

Something attacked him, a blur that flew at him from the trees. There was a grunt, and then the attacker stood. The soldier did not.

“Where are you?” the attacker muttered.

He was tall, with short hair and brown skin. His clothes were worn, as if he had been travelling for a while. Then he stepped into the moonlight, and Elia saw his platinum hair. A trick? She decided not to move, until she could be absolutely sure. She wasn’t going to be another of the Fae executed in the square.

A girl burst through the trees. “Jordan!” she whispered. “Are you alright?”

Jordan nodded. “Shh,” he said. “There’s another.”

The girl glanced at the human body on the ground, then peered through the trees. Elia shuffled backwards to make sure she was completely hidden. The girl couldn’t have been much older than Elia herself. She had platinum hair also, pulled back in a loose braid that ended at the small of her back. She was petite, but had the presence of kings.

“Elf?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Jordan answered.

Elves? Elia shuddered, and then cringed when she heard the leaves rustle on her back.

“Wait,” Jordan whispered. He turned around. Elia held her breath.

Then, in a flash of platinum hair and muscle, he darted at her, seizing her arm and pulling her out of the tree.

Elia hastily stood up, brushing down her dress and looking Jordan straight in the eye. Pain stabbed in her ankle as he scanned her, his gaze lingering on her hair and eyes.

“Who the hell are you?” he said.

“You first,” Elia said.

“Jordan Hawthorne,” he said. He jerked his head at the girl, saying, “Anwen Wrandove. Now you.”

“Elia.”

Jordan’s lips pursed. “That all?”

Elia frowned, keeping her mouth shut.

“Listen,” Anwen said, stepping forward. “We’re Fae.” She held up a hand as if to illustrate her point, and a flame appeared in it. Elia gasped. She’d never seen Fae fire before. It seemed to burn brighter than an ordinary flame, dancing wildly in Anwen’s palm. So it was true, then. These people were not pretenders. “We’re not here to hurt you.” Anwen dropped her hand. “So what are you?”

Elia pulled the cloth off her head, freeing her hair short. “I’m Fae,” she answered finally.

“What are you doing out here, then?” Jordan cut in.

“You think Kelir’s happy with Fae in the walls?” Elia shot back.

Jordan looked as if he was going to retaliate, but Anwen touched his arm warningly. “How old are you?” she asked.

“Seventeen.”

“Ah,” Anwen said. “So that’s it.” She smiled slightly. “I take it your powers have manifested, then?”

“Haven’t tried it yet,” Elia said. “But yes, I think so.”

“I suppose the humans wouldn’t take kindly to that,” Anwen said. “You must be on your way to Kendrin?”

“Yes,” Elia answered.

“So are we,” Anwen said. “We’re returning to the capital. You should travel with us.”

“I don’t want to be a bother—” Elia began, seeing Jordan frown.

“I assure you, you’re not.” Anwen smiled. “It’s safer to go together, anyway.”

Jordan glanced at them, then trooped off through the trees.

Anwen and Jordan had horses tied up not far from the base of the mountains. Anwen and Elia shared one, Jordan leading the way along the rocky path through the mountains. Elia held tightly to Anwen. She’d never ridden a horse before, and she was not inclined to fall in front of Jordan.

A mile from the mountains, they came across a small farming village. Carefully, Anwen secured her braid at the nape of her neck and pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, effectively hiding her hair. Jordan also pulled his hood up. Elia took out her cloth and wrapped it around her head like she had done in Kelir.

The village was eerily quiet. Elia looked at the moon. She couldn’t tell what time it was — it was probably late. Jordan jumped off his horse and tied it next to a barrel of water and hay. Anwen had to help Elia dismount.

They headed for the only building that still had light. Elia saw that it was an inn.

“Don’t talk,” Jordan said to Elia. “Be invisible.” He pushed open the door.

The inn was full of laughing farmers and merchants. No one noticed the three Fae that had just entered their midst. Anwen and Elia sat at an empty table, while Jordan went to the bar and talked to the owner quickly in a low voice. After a minute or so, he straightened up, dropped a few coins on the bar, and headed back, carrying a plate of bread.

“He’ll let us stay for the night. Only one room.” He placed the bread on the table. “And this is stale.”

“Better than nothing,” Anwen said, reaching out for a piece. She handed a slice to Elia, who took it gratefully. Jordan looked like he’d rather let her starve.

The bread tasted better than Elia expected. “So,” she said, “why are you in Kelle?”

Anwen paused, her hand hovering over the bread still.

“War,” Jordan said indifferently, but he kept his voice low.

“The war ended ten years ago,” Elia said.

A decade ago, but Elia still remembered it. It had begun before she was born. The woman who raised her — her mother, as far as she was concerned — told her that her real parents had died in the war. Apart from that, it had barely touched her. It was all up north, past the mountains and across the plains. She had grown with the stories of brave men who lead down their lives for the humans in Kelir, and the evil magic-wielders who brought chaos onto the land.

“Then another war,” Jordan replied.

Elia didn’t believe him. Another war? The three races had made peace, agreed on their borders and allowed each other to do what they liked in their own nations. Besides, to step over the borders of Kelle meant death for any Elf or Fae. Everyone knew that. Only one Elf had been sighted in Kelle since. And now, two Fae. Three.

“We’ve learned better,” Elia said. “We signed treaties. We all did.”

“Try telling the Elves,” Jordan said.

Elia frowned.

“Don’t,” Anwen said carefully. “She doesn’t need to know.”

“I want to know,” Elia said.

“There isn’t anything to worry about,” Anwen said. “Jordan is exaggerating the threat.”

They resumed their meal in silence. Elia was exhausted. She’d never suspected she was Fae, even though all the obvious signs were there. Only this morning had her mother told her everything, and helped her climb over the wall. Elia had left her there on the other side, to face the guards. She must be dead by now, Elia thought. The realisation felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. And now, she was sitting in a crowded tavern with two Fae who were going to take her to Kendrin safely.

It was like a beautiful dream and a nightmare, all at once.

Anwen swallowed. “So how did you survive in Kelir? I believe green eyes are not uncommon in humans, but your hair is.”

“I covered it like this,” Elia said, grateful for a distraction. “I never went outside without a cloth on my head.”

“Clever,” Anwen said. “But no one ever suspected?”

“Most of the peasant girls cover their hair,” Elia answered. She motioned to a couple of farmer women behind them, who all had their hair covered like Elia’s. “I was a flower girl, it wasn’t hard to blend in.”

“Was it bad?” Jordan asked. His question was that of a soldier’s, with no emotion attached. It was simply curiosity, and a need to understand what Elia supposed was the enemy. He had set his bread down beside him, resting his forearms on the table.

“Not all the time. I was comfortable,” Elia replied. “But I worked in the square. In the square, there are… executions.”

“That sounds terrible.” Anwen reached out and took Elia’s hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. Elia was glad for it, and was glad for Anwen’s affectionate nature. She was warm, unlike anyone she had met.

Jordan, on the other hand — well, Elia had only needed to watch him kill that guard to know that Jordan was not a man to cross.

“We’d best head to bed,” Jordan said. “I want to be gone early.”

They left the now empty plate on the table and followed Jordan down a hall. He opened a door into a small room with only one bed. Without discussion, they all seemed to agree that it was Anwen’s. Elia and Jordan lay down on the hard floorboards on either side.

Elia wasn’t sure how long she lay there, the hard wood digging into her back, trying to block out the sounds of the still busy bar. She sensed movement beside her, and saw Anwen’s face next to hers, hanging off the bed.

“Do you want the bed?” she whispered. “I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

“I couldn’t,” Elia whispered back.

Anwen shifted over. “Then we’ll share. Come on, you must be freezing down there.”

“Jordan’s on the floor too.”

“Jordan’s a solider.” Anwen raised her eyebrows, waiting.

Elia sighed, and climbed up. It was infinitely more comfortable, even if the mattress was lumpy. Anwen’s warmth was comforting.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

And finally, Elia fell into sleep.