I really enjoyed this series by Mercedes Lackey. One of my favorite authors. I borrowed them all from the library first, but only purchased the first and third volumes. The second (Greek) is a must read to get the third. The fourth (Snow Queen) seemed not completely thought out; somehow rushed but drawn out at the same time.
So I decided to see what could had if you toss a vampire/werewolf into the genre.
Tradition, the presents that binds all things both magical and normal, sounds harmless enough and people think they can't be forced to do anything inside or outside of it. No, it pushes and shoves at everything just because it senses a familiar set of circumstances being forged. It doesn't care if the end of the tale is a 'happily ever after Cinder girl' or a 'that's so sad, good thing it didn't happen to me Ladder Locks or Fair Rosalind.' Most people that Tradition notices never get the full tale, maybe one in a hundred Cinder-girls get their prince, but it keeps trying even if the prince was born a princess instead. The Fair ones – Elves, brownies, dyads, and the like – are bound to this force and the magic that it generates so they help it along, usually to their advantage. They also get help from special humans all whom their own tales didn't work out. One race of people, who belong to one set of traditions and tended to explore lands of other traditions, which have minimum control over them are the Moon-folk or as some of people preferred the nightwalkers.
Some Moon-folk protect others kill; all forced to carve the flesh of the living as fresh and dripping as possible. The one group of the Moon-folk prefer to be referred to as the true people of the night never looked upon the sun's burning light and avoided contact with most humans though never the elves, for they wielded silver and could not be insulted. The Were-folk among these people could tolerate the sun but are subject to a predator's instincts in the light of the moon. Feared and even hated, Tradition holds few happy paths for their kind. That is the story known among the furred, feathered and scaled. They are always gossiping among themselves and anyone who can and will listen. The elves can understand them naturally, also those that have consumed the magic within the blood of dragons. As potent as strong whiskey to humans say the Moon-folk, but it tastes worst.
The Elven lord breathed carefully. The wounds that healed centuries ago still throbbed from the pain of the Cold Iron bridle. The current first born of that the Heirresta royal family had recently been suffered the curse he placed on his family left dead on the palace steps by his black stallion. How dare that drunken prince treat his sister like a mortal whore and not know he happened to be the stallion he stole from her. He walked further from the palace, no longer wanting to hear the celebration in the court. His birthright taken when the iron bridle touched him, he could not be king not when the world saw him hidden behind a mask.
He raised his eyes to the surrounding woods at a sound. He wished to see no one and no one to look upon him. The sound of hooves continued and he saw a white shape through the trees. The long face of a horse peered around the bend. Not white but a pale bay with dark eyes that were bright with cleverness and worry. The mare bowed her head, "Forgive me, my Fair Lord, I was unaware of the ownership of this land." Her shape built unfamiliar, her forequarters deep, her face broad like carved granite. She was meant for work, heavy work; an impressive, though no genteel lady.
The Lord nodded and waved her forward, the animals didn't care about his scars. The animals never showed any disrespect to any elf. She gladly came, "Forgive my bluntness, my Lord, but are there no Moon-folk to give you healing."
"Moon-folk? Healing? What do you speak of?"
"My rider is one such creature. On the full moon of the mid-summer's night a Moon-folk could willingly shed their blood to heal the elves of any wound, no matter the cause nor the age. Her price is mere friendship and the hope that one day no one will need her to shed her blood."
The Lord removed his mask his cheeks and corners of his mouth lay terrible gouges that still looked fresh. "She can heal this. She can make the pain stop."
The mare came closer and focused one eye on him. "Yes, but I have lost her. A strange storm brought us to these foreign lands. It separated us. Perhaps you have a means to find her." The mare tossed her head and looked toward the sun. "I just know she's getting into trouble without me to watch her, thinks she can save the world that Moon Lady."
"What is your name and tell me more about your Lady," the Lord said.
"I am Windrose of the Shujun herd. My rider is Sonya, daughter of the Night-people and the Were-people. She is a mere century old and her parents filled her head with tales of the moon knights and the great wars against the shadow lords and other nasty creatures." Windrose groaned. "Forgive my manners. By mortal standards, I think she would be called attractive in a scary sort of way. Her skin is quite pale, her people are often described as having moonlight skin, I believe. Her eyes are quite dark. I was once told that she was lucky to have my aid that we were a match set." The Lord smiled and immediately winced. "Perhaps, we should find her even without the midsummer's moon her blood would give relief." The Lord nodded and motioned Windrose to follow him.
Sonya groaned, waking face down in the dirt was hardly pleasant. Her limbs throbbed from the storm's winds that brought her to this land that smelled and felt so foreign to her. Magic. That was the only explanation. But why? The Dark Lord was finally gone. Peace was returning to the continent.
"Windrose!" she yelled for her hoofed companion. Nothing. Sonya pushed herself away from the ground. The surrounding environment was a dense forest, the broken branches above told the truth of her bruised body. She drew her sword knowing its magic had protected it from breaking. She pushed herself up. Windrose was nowhere nearby. The forest was cold and unfriendly. Somewhere evil lived here.
She wandered about cautiously for hours it seemed; the forest revealed nothing only a despairing darkness where no hope of victorious light would overwhelm it. She grew weary and began to think of other options when the sounds of hooves and feet reached her ears. A smell of mortals and horses reached her nose but also the reek of trolls. Not as bad as an orc though. She quietly approached, the forest opened to a road. A sorceress in black, black silks and embroidery of webs, rode past Sonya's hidden form. Power and an icy chill surrounded her being; even her horse's breath was visible. Probably a dark one. Behind her came a small company of trolls. Among them walked a nobly dressed young man and a warhorse. Both prisoners struggled against their bonds. Sonya frowned; she knew she was in no condition to give immediate aid. Hence, she followed them to a black palace. Of course it would be black to match the mistress, Sonya thought.
Sonya waited. She hoped the trolls celebrated their mistress's victory and her hope was rewarded. She sheathed her blade and climbed the outer wall, easily slipping past all the guards. The young man was held in a lonely dungeon. He was plainly upset and angry. Sonya slipped into the hallway; no one was in the entire wing. She opened her belt pouch and pulled out a thin roll of leather, no longer than her index finger. Inside was a dagger, empowered to open locks. She inserted the tip into the keyhole it clicked. Sonya entered and shut the door. The young man glared at her with a little fear mixed with the anger. Sonya smiled though not too wide; she remembered most strangers stayed nervous when presented with one of nightwalker blood. Sonya approached, "Quite a poor position you're in. Tell me why and I will help." She removed her long sword and held it out to him.
He brightened and accepted the sword. "I am Prince Julian. I was on a quest to find a bride and heard about a sleeping princess. I failed her."
Sonya shrugged and rested a hand on his shoulder, "Not yet, dear prince. The recent storm will prevent me from helping you much in this task, but I sense you will not need more aid than I can offer. My sword will protect you from all magic. I will free your horse; the path is up to you." She placed the dagger into the shackles' keyholes.
The prince stood with determination and confidence radiated from him. "A moment highness, remember you must escape the palace then through the woods. There will be many dangers between you and your princess. Be wise in your actions." Julian nodded. Sonya leaped into the rafters and to Julian's sight seemed to fade into shadows.
Julian turned away and took a deep breath. She followed Julian into the hall and down the stair. Through a window on a landing she saw his horse and leaped out. She landed unintentionally on the single guard. Oh well. The warhorse stared wide-eyed at her. She shook her head and went to his hobbled feet. Moments later, Julian arrived to find his horse ready to bear him.
Sonya sat on the wall watching the prince and the approaching trolls. She sighed and focused her strength to her back as she had learned from her mother. It's not so much as power or a spell, my daughter, but the will to control your body rather than your body control you. The skin grew and made room for the bones that developed from her shoulder blades. Her skeleton became even lighter as the flesh and the hollow bones of her wings grew and formed sliding her flesh through the special slits in her armor and cloth. It barely hurt anymore she knew her body well enough now to keep the nerves from reaching their places until each joint was fully formed. The joints rose to the top of her head. Each black wing was longer than she was tall. She beat her wings and winced, the storm had not been gentle to them. The muscles strained to move in the proper motion and the skin itched where it had been weakened or torn earlier. The trolls shouted as the prince mounted. Sonya smiled and pulled the cord she had tied to the bridge release. Before Julian could be forced to fight the drawbridge behind him fell into place. The horse spun around and pelted into the woods.
Sonya waited, it was too neat and simple, there had to be a complication. A woman's enraged scream made her feel better, so here is the complication, though the sorceress hit the right pitch to cause Sonya to winced as it reached her poor ears. They watched the prince slow at the thorns that bared his path and hacked at them. The long sword sliced through easily. The sorceress shrieked, "Shorten My Way!" The woman literally flew past Sonya and moved toward the thicket][m
"Whoa, that's a useful spell," Sonya whispered and slipped off the wall. She slowly glided to the thicket and saw a palace beyond it. Sonya felt a large amount of dark energy compounding where she knew the sorceress might be. Then a dragon-like wurm appeared in the same spot. It was only about twice the size of an elephant. The Dark Lord's personal hounds had mounted larger flyers, though the dark ones never actually changed themselves into anything. At least, she never heard of one doing so.
The prince gathered his courage and attacked. Sonya landed on the palace's outer wall and watched the fight. The prince won leaving the carcass behind as he entered the palace. The sorceress seemed healthy enough it would have been quite a waste of good flesh and the meat would heal her injuries and replenish her strength. She quickly devoured the thin woman's flesh, bury what she couldn't eat as the thicket turned to ash and the palace bells chimed three times. The layer of power that hung over the land lifted, not completely though. The gates opened and Sonya could see the court awaiting the victorious prince. The cheers went up as the princess accepted the proposal of the prince. The prince raised Sonya's sword in joy. Wait a second; you are not keeping my blade. She checked herself for blood or gore first.
Sonya jumped into the air and landed at the open doors. She smiled pleasantly and entered ignoring the stares. Julian led the princess to the winged woman. Kneeling he said, "My Lady, your aid has save us." He offered her back the long sword.
"It was my joy to aid you," taking the blade she said, "Rise and be happy."
The princess bowed her head, "Lady, who are you? Where do you hail from?"
"My name is Sonya. I hail from lands beyond the ocean. My people give our alliance to the moon and its calming light. Now that you are safe, I shall take my leave." Sonya turned and quickly left, leaping into the air as soon as she cleared the doorway.
"A Godmother," the princess whispered. "She must be a new type of Fairy Godmother, the Moon Fairy." The court nodded preferring that explanation for the mysterious woman and the instinctual fear that surrounded her.
Sonya flew to the nearest body of water. She yanked off her boots and landed in the shallow water. The water was clean and cool in the early night. She stretched, the wings spread to their full length. She stood in the quarter moon and reached into her pouch again. She pulled out a bag of white silk, inside was a round hand mirror. The black glass was set in a platinum case, but reflecting nothing. Sonya set the mirror in her hand to catch the moon's light.
"Ralon, Ralon, I need your help," she said. The mirror showed nothing. Sonya called again for the spirit in the mirror. He did not answer. Sonya frowned and then set the mirror on the shore.
"That was very neatly done," a woman said. Sonya snarled and drew her sword. The woman stood at the tree line wearing a violet ball gown. "If a tad strange." The woman moved closer. Sonya blinked letting her eyes focus further. The woman was younger than she thought. She wore a white wig, lots of jewelry and a staff like the ones the wizards of her homelands wielded. The outfit was completely inappropriate for the terrain.
"What riddle is this? Sonya asked maintaining her guard.
The woman laughed, "I'm sorry. You're a stranger here are you not? Of course, you see I was coming to help that prince but that nasty sorceress beat me to him. Then I was trying to figure out a solution when you showed up. I swear I thought you were a dark one, at first. Quite disturbing, that skin and your movements child. Never mind, your … eating habits."
"Child?" Sonya hissed, "You are a human. I am a Moon-folk and will be a hundred and two years by midsummer. Who are you?"
"Oh, silly me," the woman raised her hand and a ball of light appeared further eliminating the area. "I am a Godmother, Godmother Lizza."
Sonya blinked lowering her blade, "you're joking. Godmothers are mere characters in children's tales…" Sonya paused remembering the legends and myths that usually had some basis in truth.
"I am a Godmother, I help make the dreams of others come true. Though dreams are dangerous things at times." Godmother Lizza waited and sighed, "Well, do you mind telling me who you are?
"Sonya," she answered sheathing the sword. "I am…was a member of the moon guards for the lands of Moonmyste. Where am I?"
"A long way from home, I'm afraid… Do you only eat…?"
"No, no. Not normally, the sorceress's carcass was merely there. My kind are blessed with strength, power, and long life to protect but cursed to only be able to consume fresh flesh and blood to maintain these abilities and our very existence. There is always a price, pay now or later but you will always pay. I won't need meat for at least a week now."
The Godmother nodded both in understanding and relief. "Well, that's settled. Why don't you come to my home for a time? Perhaps I can find your Ralon?"
"Thank you," Sonya gathered her boots and the mirror.
"Stand near me," Lizza raised her staff, "All forests are one." The ground beneath their feet shook and rose several inches. Sonya gripped Lizza's arm; the Godmother padded her hand. "Don't worry the forest is taking us home." The mound moved through trees at a shocking speed.
This is different. Sonya watched and tried to judge how far they had gone, she failed even with her night-vision the forest moved by too fast. Windrose would be envious. Soon they slowed and a warm yellow glow appeared through the trees. It became a lovely cottage, perhaps two rooms within.
"Home, come along," Lizza said,
"I wouldn't want to force you out of your bed."
"What are you…? Oh, Sonya. It's much bigger inside," Lizza said leading her to the doorway. It led into a kitchen that should have filled the cottage. There were other doorways leading to other rooms. "Mind your wings. I'll introduce you to the house's Brownies."
Sonya stuck her head back outside and reevaluated the size, she had never seen a place where it was different sizes on the interior. She folded her wings down tightly and stepped inside. She looked around and was quite please with the country and homemade warmth that filled the atmosphere. She had always preferred this style to the rich and impersonal beauty that most palaces possessed, even though her kind were suppose to be regal creatures. She often had laughed at her relatives over that thought. Lizza returned followed by three people. They stood waist-high to her but they appeared to be quite old.
"Sonya, these are the Brownies. Master Knob, Mistress Daisy, and Master Ned." The Brownies stared at Sonya.
"You keep a beautiful home," Sonya said nervous under their stares.
"Your kind never come to our shores," Daisy blunted.
"You know what Sonya is?"
"Of course, she's one of the moon folk. They left our lands long before humans could become Godmothers," Knob said. "She is the first I've seen but all the Fair know what the base signature of their power looks like."
"Base signature?"
"He means your aura," Lizza explained.
"Oh… it is nice to meet you all. Lizza, you said you might be able to help?"
"And I will, but it's late. We'll begin tomorrow, first thing in the morning." Sonya was giving no chance to argue as Lizza nodded to the Brownies and left.
Sonya frowned and unconsciously flicked her wings hitting the table. Pain laced through the nerves and she clutched her shoulder as those muscles throbbed for a moment.
"Easy Lady. Better recall your wings for the night," Ned insisted. "The Godmother wants to take you to meet their majesties, first."
"That doesn't mean I can't be frustrated about my missing friends," she said walking outside. A moment of concentration and the bones deformed back into her skeleton, the skin shrank and changed from a black leathery hide to smooth over a pale soft back. Sonya rolled her shoulders. Should have rested more before flying again. The sound of the withdraw matched that of bones slowly yet quietly shattering, and worst it made her back itched like bad bug bites, never comfortable.
"Very good, Lady. If you would follow me to your room."
Sonya followed Ned out of the kitchen, up some stairs and down a hall to a large bedroom. The bed was massive; it could have fit her wings comfortable or a family of five.
"There is a nightgown under your pillow. My Ivy will wake you for breakfast," Ned bowed and left.
This is very nice. Sonya looked around at the mostly green fabrics and golden woods. I know someone who would be very jealous, thinking of a certain clan-sister that indulged herself regular. She gladly removed the dark leathers and mail, and donned the nightgown of green silk. Her sword placed against the bed and the still silent mirror on the nightstand. My friends will be fine, nothing can harm a mirror spirit; Windrose is far too clever to be caught, and my sweet firebird has never reaped any misfortune for all her stealing.
"Good Morning," piped an all too cheery voice as the curtains were pulled aside.
Sonya winced at the golden light, "Nightwalkers are not morning people," She hissed pulling the covers over her head, "Hence the name."
The Brownie, who she assumed was Ivy, ignored her grumpiness and examined her clothes. "Lady, these are hardly proper for an audience with their majesties."
The shaking of her mail caused her to open an eye. Ivy tsked at the apparent rough treatment her clothes had received. "I am a warrior not some palace flower that fears a little dirt."
Ivy sighed and yanked the cover away from Sonya's face. Sonya frowned and finally sat-up as Ivy leveled her with a calculating stare, "Light complexion; dark yet shiny eyes; a quiet prettiness," she muttered and headed to ward a wardrobe.
"What… thank you, I think?"
Ivy waved her hand. After looking about Ivy returned with a pile of cloths: A white shirt, a dark blue bodice, and… "I don't like skirts," Sonya said as politely as possible, "and a shawl or something I can't take the sun's light for too long."
"You can't meet their majesties in breeches!"
"The elven courts I've visited never had a problem with that. Great Moon, I've trounced quite a few elven knights in their own practice courts, even in a skirt once."
Ivy stamped her foot, "That doesn't matter we have no clean breeches!"
"Then at least something other than pink," Sonya snapped.
"But…" Sonya glared at the skirt and Ivy realized she was fully prepared to shed it in order not to wear it. "All right, how about a soft blue." Sonya nodded. "Show me your foot. Only barefoot in the garden, everywhere else wear shoes." Ivy grabbed her foot with rough hands; then she pulled out the promised blue skirt, thick wool shawl and leather shoes. The Brownie vanished out the door with Sonya's things.
"Don't wash the pouch!" Sonya shouted.
"It carries magic, I noticed," Ivy snapped as if Sonya had insulted her. I probably did, but that would have been the fourth pouch I lost. Sonya quickly dressed and hurried to the kitchen.
"Why the sword?" Lizza asked.
Sonya blinked, "Oh, it's a habit. Now about my mirror spirit." She sat the hand mirror on the table.
Lizza shook her head, "I need to introduce to the Fair before I'm allowed to help."
Sonya snorted and slumped into the chair.
"Lady, is there any I can offer you?" Daisy said.
"Milk, if you please or water."
"Milk?"
"It comes from an animal hence the Were-people can consume it." The freshness of the milk helped greatly to lighten her mood.
"Come along now and remember…"
"The fair ones are immortal, beautiful and deserve my respect as well as allegiance. Does that about cover it?"
Lizza glared for a moment and smiled, "You have met some of their kind before." She led them out the garden gate and into the forest.
"Yes, the lands of Moonmyste are border to three of their great forests. No one with half a brain would cut down a tree without receiving permission from the dryads or without the promise of a new tree to replace that lost. Those were the laws before the Dark Lord before he burned the vast Alenten woods to build his army from the ashes of the fallen elves." Lizza stopped and rested a hand on her shoulder. "The light rose again, we drove him back. His hordes were cut down, his flying-mounted hunters brought to ground and butchered. The price was so high, as a moon-lady of the older clans I had visited the elvish kingdoms many times and knew many elves in that forest. To see their eyes dull with death… tore at my soul. All creatures had suffered, but the light rose to a new dawn and a chance to rebuild." Sonya's eyes were very bright.
"You do not speak of this often, do you?"
"No, I should that is what everyone says. It will lay like an open wound till you bleed out. I will handle my grief as I see fit."
Further into the trees a white light shone in a clearing where a vast variety of Fair were waiting for them. Their majesties were as flawless as any of their rank should be: tall, silver-haired with the graceful points of their ears peeking through, and dressed in layers of fine gossamer silk that could only be woven by their people. Lizza stopped and bowed a few feet from the court. Sonya didn't, she stopped a few feet from the queen and kneeled with hands clasped in front of her heart.
"Truly a Moon-folk that knows her rights," the Queen said.
Sonya rose smiling broadly, "my people cherish yours. Why would I forget and insult you, majesties."
The king laughed richly, "I have missed the wit and the ways of the moon-folk. Although you, I sense, are different than the ones I recall."
"Perhaps, because I am no pure blood. I wield the power of both sides of the moon-folk." The king nodded.
"Godmother, the Lady has our respect. Aid her however you see fit," the Queen commanded.
A unicorn paced forward, quite uncommon for anything to interrupt a pair of elven royalty, "I carry a message from the scarred Lord." Their majesties frowned at the stallion's rudeness but Sonya intercepted them and cupped her hands around its muzzle. The unicorn sighed and concentrated, they were not the brightest of creatures but they never forgot anything. "He found a hoof-sister, Windrose. He wishes to be healed."
"He shall have healing, may I have Windrose?"
A high pitched whiny filled the quiet forest. Hoofs rang like bells toward the clearing. Sonya dropped all dignity and manners the moment Windrose entered throwing her arms around that strong arched neck. She hardly noticed the elven lord that sat upon the saddle. Windrose pulled away to rub her nose against Sonya's face. "I was so worried, Sonya. Have you been keeping out of trouble?"
Sonya laughed, "Of course not, why would you ask such a thing when you know my answer?" She noticed the rider and politely bowed her head. Around them the court was breaking up, though their majesties remained their eyes upon the Lord. Windrose tossed her head with a whicker.
The Lord dismounted and peered through his mask at her.
"Yes, there is a cure for Cold Iron. No, I don't read minds."
The Lord closed his eyes and in their subtle way looked limp with relief, their majesties looked stunned. "When?"
"The next midsummer's full moon is coming after this winter, is it not?"
The Lord nodded confused, "Why that moonrise?"
"I'm not sure myself; but Tradition states the moon-folk and the injury elf meet on the shores of lake, does not matter where. The elf brings a silver or silver-plated dagger and a cup or goblet of some sort. As the moon reaches its zenith or after, just needs to be close, the nightwalker pierces their flesh allowing the blood to fill the cup. The elf drinks the blood and all wounds are undone."
"That's it. Five centuries of this could have been undone on a single night," he whispered.
Sonya blinked, "Well… I wish we had known there was a need for us here." The silent grew uncomfortable quickly.
"You know," Lizza said with a bit of mischief, "Since there is time, we could make a little quest out of this."
Sonya smiled and mockingly rolled her eyes, "Why do I think I'm not going to like this?" The elves looked interested they enjoyed using Tradition and quests to their advantage.
"Now that royal family would jump at any chance to lift the curse and give the elves an acceptable apology, right?"
The queen smiled, "So the Godmother appears with a message of hope."
The king nodded, "The appearance of a nightwalker…"
Sonya shook her head, "No, too simple and neat, my Lord. How about an appearance of a firebird, who may know a cure for the terrible misery," Sonya smiled at the scarred Lord, "of the Fair who was wronged. I know of one who would delight in this mischief."
"A quest for the firebird!" yelled a masculine voice in her pouch. "Oh yes, Sintasia would love such a game."
"Ralon," Sonya snapped and yanked out the silk bag, "where in the name of the moon have you been?"
"Searching for Sintasia, of course," said the bodiless face in the black mirror. "Found her too, picking cherries in a king's orchard again."
"Tell her where…"
"Been there, done that. Though this quest would make her hurry," Ralon chuckled.
"Yes after so and so finds the firebird. She explains that the only nightwalker is imprisoned someplace where the elves can not go, like an Iron Mine."
"Though she is bared by silver," the king said recalling the weakness of the moon-folk. Sonya made a face at him. "But what hardship would exist for a human." They glanced about as they felt the air almost hummed with the power of Tradition.
Godmother Lizza arrived in the capital of Heirresta. It was draped in mourning. Footmen came to her glass carriage and helped her out; another conducted her to the royal family. The king and queen swallowed their sorrow and welcomed her waiting for her counsel.
"My grief to the lost of your son but I do bring hope for future generations." That got their attention. "For many years my fellow Godmothers and I have looked for the means to undo the pain that your ancestor inflicted upon the Elven Lord that has not healed." Both were surprised to hear that the Lord still suffered but they realized it made sense for they were forced to suffer with him. "A rare firebird, who knows many secrets even ones that are lost to the Fair, has been spotted in this very kingdom. They have a weakness for fruits of great sweetness, but they are timid and will curse anyone who would imprison them with poor fortune."
"Then how may we succeed?" the king pleaded.
"I know your own apple orchard will be ready to harvest soon. Perhaps she will be lured by them. Have your sons wait for her, it is up to them to prove worthy to ask for her aid."
Within a month the apples ripened, that morning the gardeners reported a tree thoroughly robbed – all the rip fruits eaten to the core and the rest discarded on the ground.
That evening the oldest son, now, set up guard on the nearby trees. The guards found him asleep in the predawn hours with another tree picked bare. The next two nights his brothers tried and failed, found asleep at their posts.
The fourth night the first son tried again, determined not to be lured to sleep as before. He stole his mother's sewing needles and stuck them into his clothes so they would scratch his skin. At midnight he heard a bird singing and stung himself repeatedly as sleep tried to overcome him. Through the trees a floating light could be seen. Then it stopped in a tree; the prince crept forward as the song ended. In the lower branches, daintily eating the apples was indeed a bird. The bird's feathers shimmered and glowed of all the colors of fire. She ignored everything about her feeling perfectly safe. The prince quietly came into the open and kneeled before her, "Lady."
The bird squawked in surprised, beat her wings, and a half-eaten apple fell to the ground. The prince was half-afraid she would leave. The rustle of feathers quieted and he looked up. The firebird remained with an almost surprised, if a bird could look that way, expression.
"Lady," he began again, "you are welcome to as many apples as you desire. I understand you have a great wealth of knowledge, I wish an answer if you have one?"
The firebird sat very still for a moment and then tapped a single claw on the branch. The prince begged her with his eyes. The firebird clacked her beak and hopped off the branch landing as a maiden. Her plumage preserved in her dress and wing-like cape; her bright, red hair hung unbound down her back framing her ivory face. She gave him little time to examine her before she snapped, "It helps if I receive a name and a question, young man."
The prince jumped, "Stephen, Prince Stephen. Forgive my rudeness."
"As rudeness it was."
The prince bowed his head, "My family is cursed by the elves. Apparently, a prince scarred an Elven Lord and those wounds haven't healed."
"The fool used Cold Iron," the firebird shook her head, "there is only one kind of creature that can help and they only have that healing power on a midsummer's night. You need one of the nightwalkers. They are rarer than I in these lands." Stephen looked dismayed. "However, I know of one that would help if they could."
"Where? Please, my Lady?"
The maiden sighed, "She is imprisoned in a mine within a cage of silver, a metal she dare not touch for the same reason an elf would avoid Cold Iron. What or who holds her is unknown."
"But what mine, how will I know?"
"I only know it beyond the southern woods of this palace," the maiden transformed into the bird again and flew to the branches to continue her meal.
Stephen opened his mouth and then closed it realizing he was dismissed. He left the orchard and wasn't surprised to find the other guards asleep. He left them alone it was safe enough. He woke his parents and brothers and told them what happened.
"It sounds dangerous," the Queen said
"Probably less dangerous than riding that stallion," the king said. "We don't have much choice midsummer is not very far from winter and the forest backs up right up to the Torken mountain range. It may take months to search them."
"And we should search them ourselves. It would insult the elves if we didn't," Michael, the second son insisted.
"We'll do it together," Stephen said firmly though he felt as if a great weight was trying to force him to say something else. "Well prepared too." The brothers nodded and the talks ended shortly after.
The following morning, the brothers left well prepared, a packhorse tied to each of their saddles. All were hopeful though the weight of the hope was heavy. Within a few days they reached the forest. At the crossroads hobbled an old woman. Stephen lost in his thoughts didn't see her. Michael was consulting a map. Jonathan watched her and winced at her obvious bad leg.
"A crust of bread me Lords," she begged. Stephen and Michael jumped. "Me family was lost last winter and the master turned me out."
"That's hardly decent treatment for an old woman," Jonathan said looking to his brothers.
Stephen glanced at the tree line and sighed dismounting. He helped the woman to a rock by the road sign. "We can do better than mere piece of bread. We have time and more than enough to share." Jonathan smiled and pulled out some of his rations.
"Point made, I can't find any sign of a mine on the map, but a Lord who can't treat his people right I could," Michael agreed.
The woman smiled and easily rose to her feet, "I call no one master. Your courtesy has earned you aid." The woman pulled out a long wand and waved it about her. She, sort of, de-aged along with her rags. Her ears came to points and her eyes were cat-like. "I know of what you seek."
The princes kneeled before the elven woman, "Far better manners than the prince who insulted me and injured my brother. Should you succeed, the curse we shall lift.
The Lady you seek is bared from the moon that is her life's blood
However we can not go where the Cold Iron bud
Follow the river for a half and a day,
Then up the rock where light will not lay.
There you will find the gilded cage
And the wurm that holds her in bondage.
It will not give up its prize,
There the Lady's swords with magic lies
To give you strength to complete this task
And in the moonlight will she bask." The elf became silent and with a soft glow of light vanished.
Stephen rose, "Well, at least it's not impossible." His brothers nodded.
"This does explain why they couldn't get the healer themselves. But the part about the wurm worries me. Those things are like dragons," Michael groaned.
"Michael, wurms are dragons. Well, soonest begun, soonest done."
Stephen glared, "Jonathan, you know I hate that phrase. Besides," he said pointing up, "it's getting late. We should find a campsite and rest."
They followed river and within the two promised days the river bent into the mountains where the noon sun's light could not reach. They tethered their horses, armed themselves and lit the lanterns before climbing the rock. Soon they found a cave entrance; it smelled like an unused forge. They looked at each other confirming their resolve. The cave had indeed been a mine once – carts, shovels and pikes lay scattered along the ground. The mine split several times but only one path was not a dead end. Deeper and deeper the three princes walked.
"I wish we had brought some water, at least," Michael whispered.
"Hush," Stephen hissed. Three more bends in the path and the tunnel had a growing red light. Stephen motioned his brothers back the other way. "That light probably leads to the main lair."
"So, what's the plan?"
"Plan? I'd like to know what we're up against first," Stephen whispered, his brothers paled in the lantern's light. "Michael what did the elf maiden say that we can use now?"
"Well, there's one wurm, the Lady is in a silver cage, and something about magical swords."
Stephen whispered, "All right, Jonathan, you're the one with the soft hands you free the nightwalker and get her out of here. Michael, we are going to find those swords and … kill the wurm."
Michael frowned, "Why does the baby of the family get the girl?" Stephen and Jonathan groaned. "Just joking."
"Ha ha, leave the lanterns and come on," Stephen hissed moving back towards the light. The path did indeed open up into a large cavern. On the far side was a silver-like cage hanging from the ceiling and in the middle of the floor slept the wurm, a big wurm. Stephen swallowed and poked Jonathan. His little brother paled further but moved. Michael grabbed his arm and mouthed. 'Be careful.' Jonathan nodded and crept along the wall. Stephen and Michael went the other way. After a few paces Michael yanked Stephen's sleeve and point to a pile of coins. Thrust into the pile were two thin long swords, the blades gleamed attached to ebony hilts with pale blue stones set in the pommel. The same thought crossed their minds – How do we get the blades without waking the wurm?
Jonathan could hardly breathe as he slide passed the wurm; the head alone was twice as long as he was tall. Under the cage he climbed up the wall onto a shelf. Lying on the floor of it was the oddest-looking lady he had ever seen. Her skin was covered with short black fur. A set of wings wrapped her like a cape. She looked as though some mad man mixed a probably a once attractive lady and a wolf and then decided to add wings. Jonathan shook his head in disbelief and focused. He stepped out and balanced himself between the shelf and the cage. Only then did he look for the lock. It turned out to be a simply latch. He lifted the catch with the smallest of sounds. The nightwalker's head shot up her black eyes darted about before settling on him. He stared at her face. The short muzzle was strange enough but she was thin, stray dog thin. Bared from the moon that is her life's blood.
He smiled at her trying to reassure her. She narrowed her eyed and bared a mean set of fangs. Jonathan swallowed and mouthed, 'This is a rescue.' He opened the door hoping she wouldn't attack him. It creaked loudly. They both looked to the wurm.
It raised its head quickly coming level with the cage. It opened its mouth and emitted a bell-like tone that sounded a lot like 'MINE!' The nightwalker howled in fear lunging for Jonathan. He held her and pulled her out of the cage. She was light, frightening light.
Behind the wurm, Stephen and Michael grabbed the swords shouting for Jonathan to run. The wurm spun its head and snapped at them. Stephen swung scratching the wurm's nose. It screamed and attacked madly.
Jonathan tried to ignore the battle, helping the nightwalker to the ground. She was very frightened, her fur was puffed out and her claws cut into everything they touched including her own tattered dress.
"Michael!" Stephen shouted. His brother was knocked down, pinned under the claws of the wurm. Recklessly, Stephen charged the wurm his sword upraised. As he swung, the sword seemed to leap out of his hands and buried itself into the chest of the wurm. It screamed and thrashed about. Stephen ducked the flailing limbs and dragged Michael out of range. Finally the wurm laid still.
"Jonathan!" Stephen yelled.
"We're here," he said coming around another pile of coins. He was carrying the nightwalker now. "She's not doing too well. We need to get her outside."
"We will," Stephen said and touched the Lady's arm "As soon as we wake Michael, all right?" The Lady nodded.
"Stephen, your face." On his cheek a deep gash lay bleeding.
He shrugged, "It will heal. Why don't you set the Lady down and get the lanterns?"
Jonathan left quickly and Stephen turned back to Michael. The nightwalker hissed at the messiness of Michael's leg. "Yes, he probably won't be able to walk on it again." He removed his belt and tunic and began bandaging. Jonathan returned not only with the lanterns but also the nimbler of the packhorses. "Good thinking, we'll need him."
Jonathan grinned, "This old man never would remain where you put him. He followed us in." They laughed as they loaded their semi-conscious brother onto the packhorse.
Stephen elected to carry the nightwalker. He swallowed his surprised she weighted no more than his own young cousin. Her fur was soft like a cat's though her imprisonment left a tad unkempt. Midsummer is far enough in the future, we could take care of her. There's no reason the elves should have to see her like this. Just a little time and some good food. His thoughts remained on this vein until the exited the cave. It was late and the moon was raising high. The nightwalker turned to the moon and grinned. The moment its light touched her fur she purred, a deep-throated purr that Stephen felt all the way into his toes, among other places. Jonathan laughed seeing his brother vibrate and then blush. "Mm, feeling better?"
The nightwalker nodded and spread her arms and wings as if to embrace the moon. They watched her antics for a while.
"Stephen, Jonathan," Michael groaned, "Who are they?" He pointed near their horses. There appeared to be a large group waiting for them. The princes recognized elves and unicorns. There were also little men with goat legs who had horns coming up out of their hair, and tall, shrouded beings. Most of the group the prince didn't know what they were, but for most was the elf maiden who had guided them and with her was whom they guess was another elf wearing a mask. The princes made their way down nervous under the speculation of the Fair group.
Stephen set the nightwalker down before kneeling with Jonathan. Michael couldn't dismount so he bowed low over the packhorse's neck. The nightwalker bounded forward like a cat and looked at the masked elf.
"So you have succeeded in bringing an end to all this pain," the man said motioning to his face. The princes wisely remained silent, though a little irked about having their own family's pain brushed aside. "Very well as promised the black stallion will no longer come for the heirs."
The princes bowed and whispered apologies and what not. Confused and uncomfortable they began to stammer unsure of how to be dismissed from such powerful beings. Out of the corner his eye Stephen saw a familiar light, the firebird as the maiden lighted on a rock watching them. When she captured his attention she made a shooing motion. He realized that they had already been dismissed and quickly grabbed his brothers and their horses and left bowing to the Fair Ones.
The Fair Ones, nightwalker and firebird waited till the princes' noise no longer reached their sharp ears. The firebird lunged at the nightwalker wrapping her arms around her waist laughing loudly, "What fun?" The group joined her mirth.
"Let me go Sintasia, this fur's is really getting itchy," chuckled Sonya. She dropped to all fours and shook herself violently. Rather than shedding the fur like a mortal animal the fur actually shortened and vanished into her very skin like her wings did. "Oh much better." Sonya stretched like cat and growled, "Moon, I need a bath in the worst way." The elves laughed again, Sonya did look exhausted and a little greasy. "Oh yea, very funny. Let's see one of you go a week or four without bathing."
The Lady straightened and placed a hand on her throat in mock shock, "My dear, we are elves and that simply would not do." That sent everyone into another peal of giggles.
"What's all this? Come on let me in on the fun," said a new comer from inside the cave. He carried the swords in a single forepaw. His red scales seemed paler in the moonlight. The young dragon was half the size that the wurm had been, but a little magic made the princes believe he took up more space.
"My dear Firediamond. You were brilliant," Sonya said waving him over. "You had me going with all the roaring and thrashing. Although, a strike to the heart kills a lot faster than your display."
Firediamond hung his head sheepishly, "It's not like we got a lot of time to practice," he mumbled.
Sintasia hugged his muzzle surprising him, "Oh, don't listen to her. I'm sure you were great."
He raised his head proudly, "I like her. She is supportive."
"Enough of this already," Godmother Lizza said, "It's late. And the feast is tomorrow."
The Lord nodded, "True, and being this close to Iron does us no good." The Fair broke up quickly.
"I will see you at midsummer, Fair Lord," Sonya reminded him.
"There is nothing that would make me miss it," he said firmly and took his sister's arm before vanishing to the Fairie Realm.
"Well, I guess that's it," Lizza said with a smile. "Firediamond are you pleased with your reward."
The dragon nodded, "Of course two piles of elven treasure, but… could I keep one of the swords?"
"Not Mine!" Sonya snarled lunging for her precious blade. The dragon dropped them and hopped backwards to avoid her claws that lengthened in the rise of emotions. "You silly scales. The blade was a gift from my parents. And if someone hadn't put the metal through flesh spell on them you would be very dead. I could never give it up."
"No not after everything it have brought you though," Windrose said in agreement. The mare nudged her rider and coaxed her to mount. "Come along there's a nice, clean pond near here. Nothing but water sprites there to disturbed you." Windrose gently wheeled about nodding to those still present before walking back through the trees she had emerged from moments ago.
"Then there were three," Lizza watched them go before turning to the dragon and firebird. Only to find the firebird arranging her skirts and cloak comfortable across Firediamond's back. "I assume you two are going some where?"
Sintasia smiled, "Firediamond invited me to meet his family and see a true dragon lair. We have no such creatures in Moonmyste."
"Off with you then, though remember my home is open to you and your friends."
"I know the way; tell Sonya I'll see her soon. Although I probably should go back to the land of Moonmyste before Tradition decides to kink," Sintasia said as Firediamond raised his wings, beating them hard to rise into the night sky.
Lizza waved and looked around. Alone again, why am I thinking such thoughts after all these years. I have everything I could wish for and plenty of company, what more could I want. Lizza shook her head and rapped her staff on the dirt, "All forests are one." The forest sped her away leaving the Tradition to settle in this vaguely familiar tale though there the path would be broadened.
Sonya leaned against Windrose's shoulder, the mare lying on the shore of the chosen lake. The months had passed well, Sonya like the Godmother well enough, even acting as tester for questers. She didn't even need a disguise. The one that didn't ignored the sickly, pale woman but instead helped, received the aid of a moon-folk or as they were beginning to call her the Moon Fairy. The idea stuck her as quite silly, a dainty fairy that consumes raw flesh when strangers were not looking. She glanced up from the blade she was carefully engraving and judged the moon's angle. Not much time left, where in the name of the Moon is he? Midsummer had finally come, her nerves beginning to itch. It always happened whenever she felt there something she could or should be doing.
Finally, the Fair Lord arrived, without fanfare and companions.
"You're late," she said sheathing the blade.
"It took me some time to compel everyone to let this moment be special to me," his eyes shone fiercely, Sonya could almost smell his desire to keep the moment special. It didn't surprise her in the least; the other elves she had healed had felt the same way.
Sonya rose and heard Windrose stand and take her own leave. She held out her hand, "Then take the moment as I am willingly to shed a bit of life for you."
The lord swallowed and moved forward as though in a daze. His mask fell away as he reached her, he nearly stopped to grab it but Sonya took his arm. "You no longer have a need for masks," she said. He nodded beginning to feel dignity and pride that had been lost slowly return. Sonya held out her hand again and the lord placed the silver blade in her palm. The skin hissed slightly at the touch of the silver, but Sonya ignored it and wrapped her fingers around the metal that would leave a burn more severe than the ones the Fair Lord was currently plagued with. She raise her other arm and pushed back the sleeve. The Lord held out a goblet to catch the precious drops. Sonya hardly noticed as the metal sliced into the flesh of her wrist. She angle the blade the slice open veins but cover the wound so that the blood would run down to the tip before dropping into the goblet.
The Lord listened as Sonya flesh began to burn, Tradition held them firmly in place neither able to stop the damage that the silver was creating. He understood why Windrose and Sonya had repeatedly said 'a willing Moon-folk' the process could take her life. Looking at the blood that dripped they saw pale violet light thread itself into each drop – the power of the Midsummer moon. Sonya gritted her fangs, the two for piercing grew to their full length, and to her shame tears of blood began to make their way down her face. They watched as the goblet filled with painful slowness. The burns creep into her hand and pain lanced through her nerves, the silver's influence reached the bones in her bleeding forearm and her other hand and began the slow process of burning them black.
The Lord trembled at the sight and focused all his strength against the power of Tradition till he could udder a single word, "stop!" And as if it had been waiting for that action Tradition released them. The Lord staggered careful not to lose the goblet. Sonya fell to the ground releasing the dagger and hugging her hands to her chest. She refused to let a single sound escape until she notice the Lord was standing over her. She looked at him horrified, "What are you doing? The blood loses its strength very second. Drink, damn it!"
The Lord put the goblet to his lips and swallowed as fast as he could. The blood tasted like Moon Lily wine but headier. He had always thought that anything that could heal his wounds would have to be very powerful. This was beyond anything he had used to put him in a drunken stupor. The power came alive almost as soon as it was inside of him, his face felt very warm and the pain of those wounds dulled. Even the injuries he had told no one about, the ones caused by spurs deadened. The warmth left soon after being noticed leaving behind no pain. It was gone, he absently dropped the cup and touched his face, the skin was smoothed, no scars or burns. Very little can forced an elf to cry for it is a show of grief to them an emotion they did not readily express, but to his surprise a single tear formed and fell away from his face. Rather than quietly meeting the grass, he heard it land on something else. To his eyes he saw the open wound that Sonya had inflicted on herself. His single tear, which gained power in the moon's light, lent that strength to heal those wounds.
"As bad as silver is, the power invested in a rare tear of elven joy makes it worth the little bit of blood," Sonya said slowly regaining composure.
"It could have killed you, and you knew that," he accused.
"Yes, but you didn't let me die. I couldn't tell you that it had to be you to stop it," Sonya explained examining her injuries and wincing as she tried to uncurl her flesh-scorched fingers. "That's Tradition holding a mountain's worth of power over us. You had to push for it to end; this specific path is held in every set of Traditions. The Moon-folk are completely locked into their role in this as are the elves."
"You still could have died."
"Fair Lord, I think you have a kingdom to return to. I intend to take up Lizza offer of hospitality and exploit it till I personally can't stand it any longer. Now, shoo before I trounce you."
The Lord looked her over, "With what?" Sonya growled playfully and kicked at him. He laughed and to her surprise bowed to her before pulling his magic about him.
Sonya sighed. Windrose walked up and kneeled so that her rider could mount, "So what now?" The mare asked starting back to the cottage. "Looks like things are going to be more interesting here rather than the homelands."
Sonya shrugged and nodded, "Guess I'm just cursed to have an interesting life."
"Good because it looks like there may be plenty of work ahead for the Moon Fairy."
Sonya growled at the annoying nickname and then froze, "What do you mean, Moon Fairy?"
Windrose whickered evilly, "Oh… you didn't know by helping that prince kill the sorceress and wake the princess YOU are that kingdom's new Godmother."
"But…" she stammered.
"See what you get for always getting involved?"
Sonya groaned and slumped over Windrose's neck and buried her face in the mane, "What am I going to?"
"What you always do, refuse to keep your nose out of other people's business. Try not to howl, Lizza and the neighboring Godmother will teach you what you need to know… Oh by the way they both fully except you to take over management after that Godmother retires."
"WHAT? You knew! If my hands…"
"Which is why I am telling you now, you can't box my ears for at least a week and by then you will have accepted Tradition's path. Besides, this suits Tradition better, you know. It didn't know what to make of you. Lizza was frightened it was going to send something or some unfortunate hero to kill you. Tradition likes for things to be tidy, no matter how annoyed we mortals get with it."
Sonya groaned defeated and hung her head, "No good deed goes unpunished."
Windrose tossed her head, "Well, it will be an adventure. Stop being so depressing."
Only after they arrived at the cottage did Sonya remember the forgotten dagger and goblet. She smiled knowing the path that now would be taken and how a peasant woman would find them and try for her own 'happy ever after.' However, that was a Traditional Path in her homelands, I hope it doesn't kink the paths here. Wait a second, Nightwalker paths can't kink the paths because their tales have been going everywhere for years, she thought.