Away with the Faerie by Naomi M-B (read a book TXT) 📕

Shit.

While the ones on the page were immaculate and faultless, the ones in his head were… less so. Not that he was going to admit that. With an expression of superiority, he waved the book away. “Don’t bother me with these silly things. I have no concern over things like that. All I see are scribblings and all I hear are pointless words.” He turned away, chin tilted up arrogantly. There was a pause. Then a booted foot planted itself between his shoulder blades sending him head first into the newly finished lake.

“What do you hear now, huh?!” Rowen demanded, grinning despite himself.

Tarentell looked up at him, clearly unamused. “Well now, I hear water as well as pointless words.” With that he sighed and stood.

“Can’t think of a- What you doing?!” The last words came out as a squeak.

“What?” Tarentell raised an eyebrow as he placed the robe he’d just removed on the shore. “I’m going to have a bath. I’m wet as it is.” The thin cotton thermals that he wore beneath the shapeless robe clung to every contour of his body.

Clearing his throat, Rowan looked pointedly away. “It’s winter! It must be freezing.”

“It’s not that cold,” Tarentell replied, bending down to pull off his boots and leggings. Placing them beside his robe, he stared up at Rowan who was acting rather flustered. “Rowan,” he called. The boy looked at him just as he was removed his shirt.

“Oh for crying out loud!” Rowan swung around, folding his arms grumpily. “Can’t you just use your powers to dry your clothes out?!”

“I am doing that,” he replied, shaping the water from his clothes into a long thin tendril. He didn’t know why but… he felt the need to do something out of character. Avoiding Rowan wasn’t doing anything to help clear his confused mind. Maybe the answer would be to spend more time with him. Maybe build up a kind of tolerance.

A rare smile curved his mouth as he wrapped the water tendril around Rowan’s leg. With a sharp flick of his wrist, he pulled, dragging Rowan through the air into the lake. There was a tremendous amount of splashing as a disorientated Rowan tried to work out what just happened. He wasn’t happy when he found out. “You bastard!” he yelled slamming Tarentell against the bank.

“What?” Tarentell demanded. “You pushed me in. Surely I was allowed revenge. Isn’t that how your tiny brain normally works?”

“Why you-” Scowling furiously, Rowan balled his hands into fists, shoving him harder. “This is what I hate about you! You’re so high and mighty about everything, acting like you’re oh so superior just ‘cos you’ve got some fancy magic tricks!”

“I’m high and mighty?!” Tarentell exclaimed. “You’ve got to be joking. You strut around like you own this place, casually giving me orders. And when things don’t go your way you resort to physical violence! And you get so worked up about tiny, petty things!”

“Me?! You’re the petty one,” Rowan yelled. “You get all upset because of one remark and sulk like a baby for weeks!”

“Oh so when I’m talking to you, you get annoyed,” Tarentell growled. “But when I don’t talk to you, you also get annoyed! Make up you’re stupid tiny mind!”

“If we’re getting onto stupid minds,” Rowen shouted. “Why don’t we talk about you?!” He grabbed Tarentell’s still burnt arm and shook it. “Do you have any idea how goddamn stupid that was?! You’re reckless and don’t even value your own life! What would I have done if you’d died?!” Silence met his words. Shocked, Tarentell stared at him, eyes wide. After a moment, Rowen realised his mistake. “W… We. What we have done? We, not…” But it was too late. The words were out in the open. Instantly releasing him, Rowan backed away slowly. “Get that look off your face. Shut up!” He was scared. The idea was astounding. He was actually scared that Tarentell was going to make fun of him for that.

“I suppose,” Tarentell said slowly, “the good thing about you is that… you’re honest. I find that impossible. I find it impossible to be completely honest with anyone… even myself.”

Eyes widening as well, Rowan stared. “What do you…?”

“I wasn’t avoiding you because I was sulking,” Tarentell admitted. “I was avoiding because you make… feel. And I don’t know how to handle that very well.” Both boys stood stock still. “You’re braver than I’ll ever be,” he sighed. “And more stubborn. And also narrow minded in certain respects. Oh, honesty is very strange inde-”

“Shut up,” Rowan ordered as he took his hands.

The two kissed for the first time.

*

“You’re going to be fine,” Rowan was mumbling, his hands gripping tightly on Tarentell’s fingers. “Please, you have to be come through this. You’re stronger than this. You know are.”

Was he though? He wasn’t sure. Strength felt like a distant memory. Especially with the green woman beside him, her tendril like fingers leeching power away from him.

“You held back lightning for three days,” Rowan reminded him, thumb stroking the burn scars. “You can’t let this beat you. I won’t let you!” There it was. That anger, that defiance, burning boldly against both reason and logic.

The green woman pressed a kiss against Tarentell’s cheek. A gasp rattled his throat and his eyelids flickered.

The end was near.

*

Months passed with very little event. News came from the war. It didn’t seem like either side was gaining dominance. It would stretch on for quite a long time, Tarentell guessed.

“Stupid Færie, the sooner they give up the better,” Rowen muttered, stretching out across Tarentell’s legs to bask in the sun. Summer was coming quickly, eager to devour the cold of winter. The heat and light was helping many things. Everyone seemed calmer and the good weather was encouraging new plants to grow.

After a lot of work, they’d been able to sort out the problem of money and buy seeds and livestock to replace that which they’d lost. It was remarkable how much the two were able to solve now that they were no longer at each other’s throats. They still argued but it was less aggressive than before.

“The sooner they give up, the sooner I have to go back to the Warlock training,” Tarentell reminded him, poking Rowen’s forehead.

“The sooner they give up, the sooner we can tell the Warlocks how stupid their training program is,” Rowen retorted. “Either that or I beat it into them.” Tarentell laughed. He’d been doing that a lot recently. It was odd. The first time he’d done it, everyone had stared at him, bemused.

“Well, sadly,” Tarentell teased, some of the old superiority sliding into his voice. “We Warlocks are a lot stronger than you give us credit for.”

“Oh really?” Rowan raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Because I’m pretty certain I could take you on right now.”

Smiling, Tarentell opened his mouth to give a retort. Then, he saw Myah hurrying towards them, face twisted with concern. “What’s wrong?” he demanded. “What’s happened?”

“Someone’s sick,” she said. “Really sick. We have no idea what it is.”

Sickness. That would be there undoing. Færie couldn’t get sick, their bodies were too in tune with nature. Humans on the other hand…

It was clearly a virus made by magic. It was vicious, a green rash that burned the skin and attacked the internal organs. Each person to fall victim to it struggled against it for about three to five days before they fell into an agony filled coma. They screamed until their throats were raw, until their voice boxes were shredded. Then they just writhed. It would continue for another two days before they breathed their last.

The first ones to succumb were either very old or very young. Despite everyone’s best efforts, they could do little to hold it back. Within a week four people had died. All of those already ill were quarantined far away from the healthy in an attempt to stop the spread of the disease. But it did little good.

“The only way to cure it is by Færie magic,” Tarentell said, walking toward the village hall. Beside him, Rowan said nothing.  “So… someone is going to have to find a Færie and persuade them to help. How though… I mean, they’re easy enough to find but talking to them is difficult. I met one when I was younger a green wo- are you listening?” he asked. He stopped and turned only to find that Rowan wasn’t following him. Instead, the boy was on his knees, bent over, arms around his torso. “No,” Tarentell whispered.

“Taren,” Rowan gasped. “I… I think… I think I’m…”

“No no no!” Tarentell raced over to him, grabbing his shoulders. “No, please no.” Fingers shaking, he pulled up Rowan’s shirt.

There it was.

The sickly green rash. Just a little at that moment. A splodge of mottled green just below his diaphragm.

“Rowan…” Tears stung his eyes for the first time in so very long. Mind floundering, he could do nothing but stare. This couldn’t be happening.

This wouldn’t happen. Not if he could help it. Knuckling his eyes, he pulled Rowan to his feet. There was no way in hell he was going to let the Færie win.

*

“Rowan you need to eat.” Myah was always so caring. She stroked a warm hand across Tarentell’s freezing brow.

“I want to stay with him,” Rowan mumbled.

“Eat something here then,” she sighed. “Some soup at least.” There was silence. After a moment, she left.

“I’m sorry, Taren,” Rowan whispered.

*

“I’m leaving in the morning,” Tarentell announced to Myah as she laid damp cloths across the fevered brows. “I’m the only one that can.”

With a sigh, she sat on the floor beside him. “I thought you would. I’m not going to do that thing where I beg you to stay. Because I know you won’t.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I love my brother too and if you can help him I’m not going to stop you. But… I want you to promise that you’ll try your hardest to come back safe.”

“I’ll try,” he replied. They looked down at Rowan. He was resting, eyes closed, but it was clear by his straining muscles that he was struggling. He was fighting for his life.

“He’s happier, you know.” She was smiling. “Ever since you came back. He’s been a lot happier. We missed you. I mean, I know we were just children but, we both saw you as family. And to lose you and not know why until years later… It hurt. But ever since you came back, I’ve seen him smile more. He was upset at first because you were… so… strange. We both remembered you as the little boy who loved spiders. But you’d become someone who didn’t seem to know how to love anything. When you stormed off from a fight, he’d always smile just a little bit. Because he’d managed to get an emotional reaction. So. Help him. Please and come back safe and sound.”

When the sun rose, Tarentell placed a kiss upon Rowen’s forehead. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised. Then he got to his feet and left.

It had been so many months since he’d left the village. In the past, travelling merchants had come to them leading their livestock and carrying their seeds. The land outside had grown wild without anyone there to maintain it. Dead trees fell across the path, weeds and ivy grew thick in abundance.

With each step, he sent a ripple through the natural world around him. “I wish to speak to the Færie,” he said. “I wish speak to the sickness giver.” He stamped harder. “I wish to speak to the Green Woman.” His voice echoed through the plants and the trees. Again and again, he repeated those words, walking deeper and deeper into the wilderness.

Who calls?

The voice was barely a whisper. It didn’t seem to come from anywhere. It spoke from the wind, the rustling of leaves and the stamp of his feet beneath him. “My name is Tarentell,” he