Author's Note: Hey guys! This is my first published fic and I'm really excited!
Reviews welcome!
No infringement intended.
*SPOILERS*
Diaval shivered and pulled his coat closer around his shoulders. The air had a chilled gust to it, a wet and penetrating force that made Diaval wish for his water repellant feathers. But it was because of the rainy weather that his mistress Maleficent had decided that he would be better off running his patrol on two legs instead of wings.
Diaval didn't understand why these patrols were even still necessary. Ever since the fall of the mad king and Lady Aurora's coronation, the kingdom of Men and the Moors had been peaceful and quiet. Though, there seemed to still be some distrust between the fae people and the humans. Only a few daring and mischievous faeries had trickled into the lands of Men. These mainly consisted of pixies and drudgers that took pleasure in tipping cows and souring milk, and basically causing trouble for the outlying farmers and not at all helping with the quest for friendship between the realms.
Even fewer Men had ventured past the old borders, despite that Maleficent had removed her wall of thorns. And those who did dare to venture past the standing stones were of Queen Aurora's royal party, when she brought anyone at all.
Aurora had not forgotten the love of her old friends and had remained enchanted with the Moors. She visited often, though not every night as it had once been before the breaking of the curse. Her new duties kept her away much of the time, and the whole of the Moors missed her. But Maleficent understood that the responsibilities of ruling the kingdom fell solely on Aurora's shoulders as she had yet to marry. Though, many could guess at her affection toward a certain young prince…
Aurora was as busy fixing the wounded kingdom of Men that her father had left to disarray in his paranoia, just as Maleficent was at mending old bonds that she had torn apart in the Moors during her bitter quest for revenge.
Diaval smiled a little despite the beating spring rain. Both Maleficent and Aurora were turning out to be very good leaders indeed. Aurora was kind and generous to her people, and Maleficent was sturdy and wise. The two made the land strong and bright again.
The enchanted man kept these thoughts close as he trudged through the mud and sopping underbrush of the forest. They kept his heart warm even though he was freezing out in this storm.
Diaval wondered again at the necessity of these trips. Even though there had been a year of peace, Maleficent still liked to be aware of the goings on at the borders and the surrounding lands. Diaval supposed that she still had some control issues that she was working on, with herself at least. She always sent him to wander the woods for three days out of each month, even though the ent guards could do so in half that time and deliver the exact same news, which Diaval supposed was also due to her control issues. Though she'd never said it outright, he was flattered that he was the only one she trusted the task of surveillance to.
Though, he was less flattered and significantly grumpier that he could not have done so in his normal beautiful form. Grey clouds had been gathering and increasing just before the appointed day of his rounds, and Maleficent decide that he would make this trip on the ground. He had argued that he could fly in the rain just fine. But, not surprisingly, she had refused to listen.
"It's not a question of if you could fly in it, it's whether you could see anything," his mistress had said, walking away with no more than a flick of her wrist. A swirl of yellow magic and she was gone and he was human. A closed argument.
"'See anything,'" Diaval now grumbled. There was nothing to see! The closest any Man had come to the woods was the nearest farmer on his wheat field a mile off of the old border, and a few young boys daring each other to touch the standing stones.
Diaval snickered when he had though about one little blond boy who had actually made it to the stones. As he had reached out a quivering hand, Diaval had squawked at him. That's all it took to send the whole pack running home squealing like babes.
He wasn't supposed to deter "visitors", as Aurora had said. It was not very diplomatic. But he hadn't been able to resist such a hilarious practical joke.
Ugh, Maleficent was rubbing off on him.
Diaval thought about just turning around and going home, and then paying off some lowly grunt to check the southern end of the border when he got back to the lagoon.
But that would definitely make his mistress… irritated, to say the least. Better to just finish the rounds here in the north and get going as soon as possible.
He stayed close to the end of the tree line, near enough that he could just see the open field on the other side of the standing stones. He wasn't exactly sneaking; he was just staying where he was comfortable. Besides, no use in getting into a situation out in the open fields with no means of escape besides these two irritating human legs. Again he wished for his lovely wings that would have made the trip twice as fast, and in Diaval's mind, safer.
Diaval was thinking about how good it would feel to finish this pointless run and be back in his own feathers again, when there came to his ears a noised that dashed his hopes for an eventless journey.
Off somewhere in front and a bit to the right of where he now walked, an infuriated yell rebounded off of the standing stone that Diaval was approaching. Diaval stopped and listened closely.
The beating of the rain stifled it somewhat, but there was definitly a sound of a struggle taking place near by. There was shouting and a dog's bark.
Diaval broke into a slow run, wanting to find the source quickly, but not run into it blindly.
As he got closer to the standing stone, he could make out the voices of several people, whom Diaval was sure were human. As the noise escalated in volume, Diaval scanned the field looking for any movement. About thirty yards from the standing stone, Diaval sighted a group of humans in a half ring around the stone.
They were adult Men, carrying whips and short swords at the ready. They all were taking turns striking at something that they had encircled and corned against the stone. They taunted and laughed maliciously, making crude jokes as they antagonized their prey.
Diaval crept closer, using the trees for cover, not worrying about the humans' poor eyesight and sense of smell. The men were probably hunters out –
Just then the men's prey lashed out and broke the line so Diaval could see inside the ring. There in the middle stood a two–legged, not a beast of fur or feather. It was shorter then the men but stood tall and proud. Diaval could not tell if it was a faerie or human, nor if it was male or female, as it was shrouded in a dark wrap of cloth. The clothes were once rich and well made, though now they were soiled and muddied from the exchange now taking place. He supposed it was human boy though, as it held a sword of it's own, probably made of iron that would have burned a faerie, and Diaval had seen few female Men that carried swords.
At its side stood a horrid black dog, snarling and gnashing his teeth at the circle of Men, protecting his master and standing guard as the ugly beasts were known to do.
The shorter human slashed at the men with grace, but a sort of hurriedness that betrayed his fear. The man on the receiving end barely parried the blow before it met his face. Then the ring closed in on the boy again. Diaval, unsure of what to do, crept closer, and could now hear the voices clearly despite the rain. He could even hear the labored breathing of the youth that told Diaval that this had been going on for a while.
"Come on now, put that thing away before you hurt yourself," one of the men said to the boy with a sneer.
"Yeah, or before you really make us angry," another agreed.
"It would look as though you boys are the ones we're waiting on," the boy replied, his voice tired but high pitched with youth. "I've held you off thus far. It appears that you're toying with me to hide your own fear."
Diaval was surprised at the boy's cheekiness.
"Watch your tongue, urchin," one man said. "We still out number you and your mangy mutt, even if you've picked off a few."
Diaval cocked his head at this (a habit of his).
Then a gleaming deeper in the field caught his eye. There an abandoned sword made an indent in the muddy grass. Only a few feet away lay another man, unmoving. Further in, Diaval could see another floundering in the churned grass as if struggling from a wound.
Perhaps this boy really was more than these ruffians could handle.
"Yes," the boy answered the man. "Seven of you ganged up on little old me and you only lost two so far at the hand of someone half your age. Not threatening or emasculating at all."
On man pointed his sword at the boy and growled.
"Give us your valuables and we'll be on our way."
The youth tilted his head to the side, (something that Diaval found endearing).
"Oh, but this is such fun. I would hate for my new friends to leave so soon."
Diaval couldn't tell if the boy was suicidal or trying to cover up his fear with sharp words, but either way, it was heightening the tension in the already taunt air.
The fraying ends of the situating snapped again when the boy's dog leapt at the nearest man and grabbed ahold of his arm with his dagger like teeth.
The man cried out and rammed the dog's head into the standing stone, dazing the beast.
The boy lunged at the man when the brute kicked the dog in the head, but the youth was stopped by the others. They shoved him back from the injured animal, who appeared to not be breathing.
"Last chance, wench," the man with the bleeding arm said. "Or else when we take your gold we'll make sure to take your life as well, just like your mutt's. And perhaps…" The man ran the edge of his blade down the front of the boy's shirt. "We'll take much more..."
Diaval didn't have time to wonder at this comment before the boy struck out again with his sword. He locked blades with the man so quickly, that the falling rain blurred their images into one.
"Don't make me laugh," the boy growled into the man's face before shoving him into the mud.
The man to cried out as the boy stabbed the him in the gut before he could recover his sword or balance. The boy didn't flinch or skip a beat, and spun into the closest man standing, knocking him aside as the boy wrenched his whip from his grasp. When the man reached for it again, he fell back with a well aimed kick from the boy.
The other men advanced on the boy, hacking at him with knives and swords. The boy ducked at the first blow and dropped to the ground. The boy slid on his belly between one of the men's legs, then flipped over onto his back. Before the man could turn, the boy strung the whip around his leg and shoved him forward with a kick in the arse. The man tripped and went down with a heavy splash in the mud, and a groan of pain came from his downed companion underneath him.
One of the two men left standing sliced down at the boy on the ground, and the boy very nearly met his end. But the mud helped him and he slid away to the side. The man tried for another hack, but the boy lashed out with the whip and caught the man around the neck. The man dropped his sword and clasped the rope that snaked around his throat.
The boy tried to pull him down, but the man was strong and yanked the whip almost out of the boy's grasp. The boy recovered the handle of the whip and instead hauled him self up out of the slick mud using the man's own strength.
The boy grabbed his sword in one hand and met the last man's knife with a clang, while not letting go of the strangling man.
The boy and the man with the knife thrusted and parried for what seemed to Diaval like second. Hidden, Diaval watched the fight with wide eyes and stood stalk still, as if under an enchantment. Well, under a stupor at least.
Finally, as the strangled man was choking and falling to his knees, the boy knocked the knife away from the other man, barely stopping his own blade just before it met the man's throat.
They both stood panting for a moment staring at each other, the man with hatred and the boy with victory.
"Run," the boy said. "Run away and tell every ruffian, thief, outlaw, and bandit that Faylin Silverwolf is not to be tested." As if to emphasize his statement, the man with the whip around his neck collapsed to the ground with a thud.
The last standing man backed up slowly, holding his hands up in surrender, then turned and bolted.
Diaval could not believe what he had just seen. By all the laws of nature, the smallest of any species never wins a fight when they're out numbered seven to one.
He wondered briefly if perhaps he should tail this impressive victor for a while.
The boy trotted toward his injured fury companion, when the man the boy had tripped with the whip sprung up and grabbed a hold of the boy before the youth could react.
"Now you've gone and done it, you bitch," Diaval heard the man growl.
The boy tried to strike the man, but the man only grabbed his wrist and forced him to drop his sword. The two struggled, the boy having lost his edge of speed now that he was caught. The man was physically stronger than the boy, and it didn't take long until the man had forced the boy up against the standing stone with his arms pinned above his head.
"Get off of me you hog ugly, rat raised, son of a snake, petty thief!" the boy screamed in the man's face when the latter pulled a knife from his shirt sleeve.
The man cackled at this, bringing the knife to the boy's throat.
"Let's see if your tongue tastes as sweet as it talks."
The man pressed his mouth to the boy's lips, shoving the younger up against the rock so that the boy was trapped under the man's massive body.
Diaval was then dumbstruck.
Diaval could hear the boy screaming under the man's mouth.
Then it was the man screaming, pulling back and putting his hand up to his bleeding mouth.
"Yohu bith! Yohu bick ooff my tong!" The man screamed in agony around the blood that came surging out of his mouth. The rain washed it down his chin and neck, making him look like a carnivore coming from a fresh kill.
The boy spit out a chunk of flesh, and reached to wipe his own mouth when the man struck the boy on the side of his head with the hilt of his knife.
The boy fell to the ground looking dazed. The man jumped on top of him in an enraged fury and started to hack at the boy underneath him.
The blade cut through the flesh of the boy's abdomen. The boy cried out and grabbed the blade of the knife, only for it to be drug across his hand and resulting in more blood. The man hit him in the head again and the boy fell completely limp.
Raising his knife above his head, the man readied to kill the boy once and for all.
Diaval didn't remember the shock wearing off. He didn't even remember moving. But suddenly Diaval was tackling the man into the mud and wrestling the knife away from him. Diaval managed to pin the man's arms, but he thrashed and tried to throw Diaval off. He would have too, if the man hadn't spotted something just above Diaval's head.
The man suddenly froze with eyes full of fear.
Diaval grimaced internally.
Oh, please don't be the –
But it was.
The big black dog was right in front of his face, snarling and frothing as Diaval looked up at him.
But the dog wasn't looking at him. He was staring down at the man on the ground, his black eyes full of vengeance and hatred.
Diaval didn't like dogs. Hated them, in fact. But he certainly was grateful at that moment that he and this dog appeared to be on the same side.
Diaval looked down at the bandit.
"It appears that you were not meant to be a crow's prey tonight," Diaval said with a smirk.
Getting up slowly, Diaval released the human, though the man didn't dare to move under the dark eyes of the dog.
"He's all yours," Diaval said to the dog.
On cue, the dog lunged at the man and the man scrambled back. He fought for his footing and was off through the field like a frightened deer with a wolf on its heels.
Diaval only watch for a second, certain that the man wouldn't make it very far, and then turned back toward the boy on the ground.
He walked over slowly, treating the boy like a wounded animal. Diaval was sure that he was unconscious, but he didn't want to startle him if he wasn't.
Kneeling down, Diaval cautiously placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.
There was no response.
Diaval gently rolled the human over, laying him flat on the ground. Diaval lifted the cloth of the boy's hood that had fallen across his face, hiding nearly all the boy's features except his eyes, which were closed to the world.
He meant to check to see if the boy was breathing, but upon removing the covering, he was shocked into stillness.
What lay in the mud before him was not a common human boy at all.
It was a strikingly beautiful young woman.
…
Diaval sat with his mouth hanging open, unable to make the scene he had just witnessed and this new revelation blend into one comprehensive memory. How could a female human display such power and ability? They were not like the fae folk women. They were submissive and dutiful, not daring and free from pretenses. Not that he knew a lot about them, only ever being an observer and a spy. And not that he dislike them, in fact he loved Aurora immensely. He'd just never seen them act that… masculine, Aurora included in that.
Diaval shook his head to allow himself to think clearly. He looked down at the boy's – girl's – woman's – whatever – female's injury. She was bleeding heavily from her stomach and though it wasn't too deep, it didn't look good.
Diaval took off his coat and tunic (which he'd been forced into wearing because this blasted, featherless body had a tendency to be vulnerable to cold weather, such as the lovely conditions of the current moment) and started to tear the shirt into strips. He folded the strips and laid them into the wound, using the excess to bind it around her middle.
Suddenly her hand shot up and grabbed a hold of his wrist.
Diaval's eyes went to the girl's face, which was bruised and bleeding aswell.
The girl stared up at him with rage and distrust, ready to break the arm in her grasp at a moment's notice. Her jaw was noble and used to being upraised. Now it was set and angry, but there was a quiver that betrayed her pain. The lips that had spit insults at the bandits were thin but graceful, with a womanish arch. Her eyes were a stormy grey-blue, seeming to swirl with her thoughts and fury. She seemed to him to be a shiny, but sharp thing. Something to be desired, but not touched.
If Diaval hadn't been a bit frightened of her, he would have thought her magnificent.
"Remove your hands from me, villain," the girl growled.
Diaval wasn't sure exactly what to say. So he decided to go with the obvious.
"You're wounded," he said, not daring to wrench his wrist away.
"At the hands of you and your filthy companions," she spit.
Diaval was a little hurt by that. He took pride in his hygiene.
"I was not one of the men that attacked you, milady," Diaval said. "I saw your struggles from the trees and came to aid you."
The girl didn't look as though she trusted his word. Her grip was loosening, but he didn't think it was intentional, judging from the blurriness that was creeping into her eyes.
"Why didn't you help sooner then?" the girl demanded.
Shamed crept into Diaval's heart. He didn't wish to admit his fear, so he fudged the truth.
"I… I didn't wish to get in your way," he said lamely.
But that made the girl smile a little. The rain started to collect in tiny pool around her upturned lips, making them shimmer like her eyes. She looked as if she were turning to glass.
"Such a charmer. A craven, but a charmer," the girl replied.
Diaval was glad the storm made it dark so that she could not see the blush that crept into his cheeks. Craven raven… He shook his head to rid himself of the thought.
The girl winced suddenly and let go of his arm so as to grab at her injury. She pressed lightly, then though better of it and took her hand away.
Looking back up at Diaval, she fixed her face in a scowl again and tried to shove her self upward. She winced again and would have fallen if Diaval hadn't been there to catch her.
"Lie still, milady," Diaval said softly.
The girl glared up at him, but this time with thought.
"I suppose I have no choice then," the girl said as her eye began to droop in exhaustion.
"You'll have to trust me," Diaval said as he began to wrap her injury again.
"It would seem so…" the girl said drowsily. "But will Thrasher?" the girl asked with a wicked smile.
"But will who –"
The familiar growl of a certain big, black, ugly canine came from just in front of Diaval's face again.
Diaval looked up to see the girl's dog frothing and baring his teeth, just as before. Except this time his spittle was red with fresh blood, he was looking at Diaval, and the two of them were not on the same side anymore.
Diaval looked down at the girl without moving his head.
She smiled and looked satisfied despite dropping into unconsciousness.
"Sir, meet Thrasher. Thrasher meet…"
"…Diaval... Folk call me Diaval," he said quietly. He couldn't believe that he had been lowered to the level of being introduced to a dog.
"Well, Master Diaval, Thrasher is my partner and guardian. I doubt that I have to explain that Thrasher wouldn't take very kindly to anything that he deems as… improper treatment of his lady. So I doubt that I even have to warn you what will happen if you dare to touch me in anyway that is not in assistance toward my recovery."
"No explanation necessary," Diaval said without taking his eye from the mangy creature.
Diaval saw the girl smile again out of the corner of his eye.
"Good. Thrasher, he's a friend," the girl said to the dog as she began to drop off. "Don't kill him unless you have to..."
The dog didn't look convinced, but at least he stopped snarling.
"By the way, I'm called Faylin..." the girl whispered. And then she fell completely into the world of unconsciousness.
"So I heard," Diaval grumbled.
Slowly, watching the dog, he began to finish mending the girl's wound. The dog – Thrasher – didn't stop him, but watched every move he made with distrustful eyes.
When Diaval had finished, he gently picked the girl's shoulders up and wrapped his coat around her soaking wet form. Then he picked her up all the way, and stood up with her in his arms.
Thrasher growled when he did this. Diaval glared down at him.
"I'm taking her to where she can be helped."
Thresher growled and stepped forward.
This was ridiculous. He wasn't going to be dictated by an animal!
Well. Not while he… wasn't one. And not by a horrid dog of all things.
Ugh, he really was starting to pick up two-legged traits. Not that knowing who you're better than wasn't a raven quality, just that humans and faeries took it to a whole other level.
The dog continued to growl and stalk forward.
Diaval sighed and lowered his pride.
"Look," he couldn't believe he was arguing with a dog. "She'll die out here. I can take her to someone who can save her. Growl at me all you want, but all I want to do is help."
Thrasher stopped growling but continued to glare at Diaval.
"I don't like this arrangement any more than you," Diaval said grudgingly.
That seemed to pacify the dog. For now.
Diaval hefted his charge and started off toward the woods, with Thrasher trotting right by his side and staring at him like he was a piece of meat. A piece of meat that was not to be trusted.
I hate dogs, Diaval thought as he started the journey home.
Just a note: I know I use 'Men ' and 'men' intermittently, but it's on purpose, I swear. It's the difference between referring to them as a race/species, and just their age/gender. It changes (or is supposed to) the implied tone with the different caps.