Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Hellboy characters, settings, etc. The original characters and plot of this story are mine though. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from this work.
Chapter 36
The shimmering effect which presaged the dragon magic at work in Elfraine had just registered on the periphery of Nuada's vision when, without warning, a cataclysmic torrent of white-gold light and magic ripped into his body and tore through the very fabric of his being. He arched up instinctively as it seized hold of his own Fae power and entwined him in a vast web of enchantment, its sublime and transcendent beauty piercing him to the core. His hands were stuck fast to the young dragon's blood-drenched chest in an unbreakable bond of magic, and all he could do was surrender to the blazing torrent and ride it out. There was such a force of... life around him as he'd never before known and then as suddenly as it had hit him, the cataclysm ceased and he fell backwards.
He was shaken to the marrow of his bones, and a momentary confusion beset him; he felt as if the four winds of the earth had just blown him around all four corners of the earth. But though he had never felt so vitally alive, Nuada was left with a vague, nagging sense that something was... missing. As he regained his senses and knelt back up again, he looked at Elfraine and the wounded dragon. She was still clinging to the young creature's neck, her hair covering her face and spilling over her shoulders in a tumble of deep-brown waves that seemed alive with glinting threads of white-gold light, and he realised with a start that somehow, he'd felt her presence with him in the amaranthine web of magic. To his further astonishment, emerald-green eyes, which only moments before had been dimmed by the dull sheen of death, now looked up at him with bright interest and the dragon started to move, trying to get out from under Elfraine.
Brushing aside her hair, Nuada placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her gently. "Lady, look," he said in a low voice filled with wonder, as he stared at the young dragon. He noticed the wounds on the creature's body had completely disappeared, much as Elfraine's wounds disappeared whenever she sustained an injury. His eyes narrowed. The dragon before him was far too young to have survived such a fatal wounding. Only a dragon at the height of its powers could have done such a thing. Either that, or...
Struck by a sudden thought, he glanced down sharply at Elfraine only to be brought up short. She was still lying prostrate over the dragon's neck and he realised she was not moving. A feeling of apprehension licked through him as he quickly rolled her over and eased her onto her back. The young dragon sprang up and skittered away briefly before returning with his sister to peer down at Elfraine's supine form. They nudged her with their noses but she just lay there, unmoving. A wild tumble of curls fell about her face and, with her eyes closed and her long, dark lashes fanning out over porcelain-pale skin, she looked like a beautiful, sleeping doll.
Nuada searched urgently for signs of life and was relieved to see the rise and fall of her chest though it was shallower than he would have liked. He placed one of his hands over her heart and the other along her neck, and was reassured to feel the pulse of life still strong within her. Apparently she'd only fainted, and if she'd felt but a fraction of what he just had, then it was little wonder. Whereas he was born of magic, she was not and if he had been shaken by... whatever it was they'd just shared then he could only imagine how it had affected her.
Sharp eyes of dark gold looked out on the impenetrable blackness surrounding them. The usual glare from the human street lights was noticeably absent, and the only illumination was coming from the carriage lamps on either side of the balcony doors. As well, the roads below, usually so full of the harsh, discordant sounds of humans scurrying to and fro, were strangely silent. Though the darkness no longer appeared to harbour any more shadow creatures, it occurred to Nuada that they'd be better off inside. He could fortify the room with a stronghold charm, similar to the magic concealing and protecting the Troll Market. It should keep out anything that might still be lurking in the inky blackness of the night, for a while at least, and give Elfraine time to recover. And once she'd recovered, she could answer some questions about what had just happened... because he had no doubt that what had just happened was entirely down to her.
He hooked one arm under her knees and the other under her shoulders, and lifted her effortlessly but a sudden stab of pain in his leg reminded him of his own injury; he would have to look to that later. The previously-wounded dragon picked up the Silverlance in his mouth whilst his sister picked up Nuada's sword, and they followed the Elven prince inside.
Nuada laid Elfraine on the couch and then quickly crossed back over to the door. He closed it and passed his hands over the wooden frame and glass, infusing them with a magic which strengthened their innate properties and afforded some protection against any occult force that might seek to breach the bulwark. After doing the same to the windows and walls, he returned to Elfraine and knelt down beside her. The wound on his leg suddenly flared in another biting paroxysm of pain but he gritted his teeth and ignored it. He could still walk on it and besides, he'd suffered worse in his time.
Adjusting his leg so the wound did not pull unnecessarily, he gave Elfraine a gentle shake. "Lady Wylde," he said softly. She remained unresponsive. He shook her a bit harder and spoke more loudly but still she didn't stir. Several more attempts at rousing her only met with the same result: nothing.
Leaning back, Nuada frowned at her. She showed no sign whatsoever of recovering and he was fairly certain this was not normal for her. He had a good idea by now of what had just happened and they didn't have time to let things run their natural course. Stronger measures were obviously required and if he was right, there was only one sure way to recall her to her senses. But he was utterly loath to do it... because it meant he would have to say her name - her given name... Elfraine... or Elf Queen.
He struggled fiercely with the idea as he looked at her unmoving form, and cast about all the corners of his mind, trying to find some other way which did not involve having to go to such galling lengths. But if, as he suspected, she was in the thrall of magic, then he had to face the unpalatable fact that it was the only thing he could do... for his sister's sake. Still, at least there would be no one to witness his degradation, he thought, taking what little comfort he could from that until he remembered the dragons. He swore softly as he half-turned his head and shot them a look. They were sitting a little way behind him, to one side, and watching on with great interest... and right next to them, and just as interested, was that ginger-furred anathema called Goblin. Scowling fiercely, Nuada swung his gaze back to Elfraine and set about the distasteful task.
Leaning over her, he covered one of her smooth, pale cheeks with the palm of his hand and ran his thumb lightly over her soft, dusky pink lips before catching at the bottom one and gently pulling it down, parting her mouth a little further to allow him better access to do what he had to. Then he called upon his Elven magic and bent his head until his dark lips were only a whisper away from hers. With his broad shoulders and the long fall of his pale, gilt-tipped hair shutting out the curious gaze of their audience, Nuada gave Elfraine his breath, threaded now with the white-gold light of his magic, and said her name with steely determination.
"Elfraine." His voice was low and deep, and it reverberated with a feeling which caught him totally unawares. He couldn't understand it... not in any way. It was almost as if he'd been waiting forever to say her name... and yet it was practically the last thing in the world he wanted to say. He paused for a moment, knocked off centre, but quickly recovered and completed the act, summoning her breath to him - and with it, her consciousness - before saying her name once more. And as he drew out her breath, it sparkled and shimmered with flecks of sunlight which escaped up into the air. The evanescent motes settled on his hair, turning it, for the briefest instant, into a glistening waterfall of sun-dappled silver before vanishing.
Magic clung to Elfraine like an ethereal veil, its delicate scent and celestial harmony delighting his senses, and Nuada was utterly beguiled. Given the dragon magic in her, he supposed it should have come as no surprise and yet somehow, it did. And though it formed no part of the enchantment he worked, he closed the almost imperceptible distance between them and brushed her lips gently with his own, a feather-light touch of firm flesh and a warm whisper of breath. He could taste the fading traces of magic on her along with everything else about her which was familiar to him by now - her warmth, her light and her joy - and as he deepened the kiss and savoured the feeling that washed through him, he might have mused on just who was working the enchantment.
Suddenly, the subtle spell was shattered. Elfraine moved, reaching up for him, and Nuada broke off the kiss, startled. For the second time that night he was left feeling shaken but he had no time to meditate on what had happened. Her eyelids fluttered open and he found himself looking into deep, shimmering pools of amber brown, agleam with myriad flecks of antique gold. He watched, fascinated, as the magic released her from its thrall and the golden glow in her eyes slowly faded.
... ...
Elfraine had been aflame in the incandescent heart of a brilliant, blazing sun but a voice set her name to echoing through the furnace, and though it had been a sublime and beautiful sun, and the fire everything she'd ever wanted, yet the voice compelled her. It summoned her by name, its low, husky timbre vibrating through every fibre of her being, and pulled her away from the burning star to lay her down in the middle of a heavenly dream in which Nuada was slowly kissing her awake. .. and suddenly, that was everything she'd ever wanted. After some moments, she reached up to touch his face and hair only to have her reverie rudely interrupted as he abruptly stopped kissing her and she fell from Heaven with a nasty jolt. Elfraine opened her eyes to find his lean, chiselled features only inches away from her face, filling her vision, and she knew a feeling of sharp relief. The fall of his hair brushed softly against her cheek and he was staring at her intently, his own golden eyes banked with the fierce fire of the sun she'd so recently been ablaze in. He was leaning over her, and as the heat from his body burned into her and she breathed in the warm, earthy scent of him, it seemed she hadn't fallen so very far from Heaven after all.
Elfraine was about to reach up for Nuada again, when a sudden wave of nausea briefly overtook her. "Wh-what happened?" she asked unsteadily, dazed by the unaccustomed feeling and more than a little disconcerted both by her strange fancies and his intense regard. All of a sudden, memory returned in a brutal rush. "Poppet!" she cried out as she struggled to push herself up.
Nuada pulled back in surprise. Surely she was not calling him 'Poppet'... and why was she suddenly so upset? There was a movement to his right and the dragon who'd been wounded rushed forward and nuzzled Elfraine.
She threw her arms around the young creature's neck and reached up to hug him, wincing slightly as his hard scales bit into her soft skin. "Oh! You're alive!" she exclaimed; the surprise and relief was clear in her voice.
The reason for her momentary distress suddenly became apparent but a nasty suspicion started to form in Nuada's mind as to the other... though if he was honest with himself, he was glad to be distracted from the perplexing riddle of what they'd just shared, both out on the balcony and here now on the couch. While he had no doubts about the searing, sensual pleasure and bone-deep satisfaction he'd taken in the joining of their bodies earlier, he was thrown totally off balance by the sublime and intimate connection they'd just shared through the two acts of magic, a connection which left him with both a strange ache and a feeling of great ambivalence.
"Poppet?" he enquired icily now, the word fair freezing on his tongue as he sought refuge from his uncertainty.
"Yes," replied Elfraine. She was still groggy and disconcerted, and wasn't thinking clearly otherwise she would have taken note of his chilly tone. "Mistress Moppet and Master Poppet. As I believe I've already told you, I don't know their true names – and even if I did, I couldn't use them – so that's what I call them," she explained, confirming his nasty suspicion. She gave the young dragon one last hug and released him. Another wave of nausea washed over her and she fell back on the couch, shutting her eyes against the long-forgotten feeling.
Nuada turned his head and watched grimly as Poppet ran back to his sister, an expression of distaste marring the Elven prince's hard, handsome features. He swung back to Elfraine with an accusing glare. "By the Gods, they are dragons," he bit out, "not... not babies or dolls! If you had to call them anything, then surely you could have chosen more... fitting names."
Elfraine squinted at him through one eye and decided that, heavenly kisses notwithstanding, she didn't like the expression on his face. His head was tilted to one side and he was looking at her with those golden eyes of his as if she were the strangest specimen of life he'd ever seen. It struck her, rather belatedly, that he was annoyed with her and she thought she knew why. "Ohhh," she moaned, half in protest at the sick feeling in her body and half in dismay at her slip of the tongue. She'd anticipated his disapproval of the endearments she used for the dragons, and hadn't meant to ever let him know about them. She could only put her lapse down to the unfamiliar nausea besetting her.
"Yes, but they were baby dragons when I found them," she informed him, aiming for a tone of condescending superbity and falling far short as another wave of nausea racked her body. To her own ears, she merely sounded pitiful. And from the look on his face, that was how she obviously sounded to him too. "Well, I had to call them something," she muttered defensively. "And besides, they don't mind the names."
A sudden chattering from behind him told Nuada that the dragons were indeed perfectly happy with their sobriquets. Swinging his head around, he regarded them for a moment with a frown on his face. He had no intention of arguing about it now, but they were going to have to settle on something else in due course; if he was to have the care of them, he was not going to call them Poppet and Moppet. "Very well then," he said, with a final stern look at both Elfraine and the dragons. "We will leave the matter there... for the present."
"Ah yes, your 'later' list," murmured Elfraine.
That earned her a sharp glance but before Nuada could say anything, she was overcome with dizziness and distracted him from his dark thoughts about what dragons should and shouldn't be called.
"Oh, God's Blood! What is wrong with me?" she groaned. "What... what happened?"
"I was about to ask that question of you," Nuada replied. "What did you do out there?" he asked, with a brief nod in the direction of the terrace.
"Me?" exclaimed Elfraine. She tried to push herself up on her elbows once more and succeeded this time. She thought she might be starting to feel better. "I... I did nothing! Well... I... that is to say... I did what I always do," she replied, furrowing her brow in bewilderment as it struck her that things had not gone as they usually did when she used the dragon magic. "But I had no thought of doing it," she added quickly. "It - it just did it itself... and nothing like this has ever happened before. For a start, I wasn't physically injured, and... I - I had the strangest dreams... and I've never come out of the magic feeling so awful!"
So, it was unintentional and she had no idea what she'd just done, or rather, what they had just done... together, thought Nuada as he ran his eyes over her. She was looking a bit steadier and he moved back slightly to allow her to sit up properly.
She swung her legs over the side of the couch and sat so that she was now at eye-level with him. "Do you know what happened?" she asked. She looked into his face and winced as another wave of dizziness and nausea took her by surprise. So much for feeling better. "Ohhh," she wailed, as she pressed a hand to her forehead. "I haven't felt this... this sick in four hundred years! I don't like it!"
Nuada arched a brow at her. "You have been ripped to shreds by the Hounds of Odin and you have just taken more killing blows from those... shadow creatures than I could keep count of, and all without a word of complaint. And yet here you are now, making a great deal of noise simply because you feel a little... nauseous," he observed, bitingly.
Elfraine scowled at him as she held her head in her hands. He wasn't being in the least bit sympathetic and she was beginning to form her own theory as to what had happened outside on the terrace. Her reaction out there had been entirely instinctive, and she strongly suspected she felt so terrible now because there'd also been a certain Elven prince hanging onto the wounded dragon at the time... and it was somehow all his fault. Nuada's next words only seemed to confirm her suspicion.
"The sickness will pass shortly," he informed her, coolly. He paused for a moment, obviously reluctant to continue. "Between the... the two of us, we have just worked one of the great feats of magic," he explained grudgingly. "We... joined together in the heart of magic and pulled the dragon back from the brink of death."
"Well, you needn't sound so pleased about it!" muttered Elfraine sarcastically.
Nuada wasn't exactly in the best of moods, thanks to his disquiet over what had just happened, and her tone set a match to his already-smouldering temper. "Forgive me, Lady Wylde. I did not think to ever find myself working such a feat of magic with a human," he retorted, snidely.
"Then one might wonder why you ever did such a thing in the first place, Your Highness," shot back Elfraine, now convinced he was to blame for her sickness. "And it's not the only thing you've done with a human recently, either," she reminded him, with a narrow look. "You didn't seem overly upset about that as I recall!"
Nuada swiftly leaned in close and placed his hands against the backrest of the couch on either side of her head, trapping her between his arms and crowding her uncomfortably. "I believe I had little choice in the matter of the dragon, milady. You seized hold of the reins, as it were, and would not let go," he snapped. He wisely ignored her other charge.
"Well, I'm sure Poppet is most relieved that I did," she snapped back, saying the dragon's name with great relish and more than willing to take credit for the whole thing if it meant she could claim the moral high ground.
His lips compressed into a thin line of annoyance; she had him there. He inclined his head stiffly in acknowledgement of her point and pulled back slightly. "Indeed, as am I," he admitted tersely.
"In fact, had I not seized hold of the reins, you would have allowed Poppet to die!" continued Elfraine, in full flight now and rather ungraciously determined to press home her advantage for all it was worth. "You were merely going to ease his passing! Thanks to me there are still at least two dragons in this world. Had it been left to you there'd be..."
A muscle in the side of his jaw twitched dangerously and Nuada swiftly pressed a hard, white finger to Elfraine's lips, cutting off her words and giving her a sharp look of warning.
She finished her sentence anyway. "Only one!" she rushed on.
Anger flared hot and bright in his eyes. He clamped his hand over her mouth and leaned in close again. "Be quiet!" he hissed in her ear. Taking a deep breath, he tried to rein in his temper however she grabbed hold of his wrist and attempted, unsuccessfully, to wrest his hand away from her mouth. He took another deep breath and pulled back slightly but all he saw was a pair of big brown eyes staring defiantly at him and he had to take another breath... and then another one. He might still have succeeded in mastering his temper but he felt her mouth move against his hand and then, unbelievably, she bit him! For the briefest moment, he stared at her with stunned incredulity, and then incandescent rage took over and Nuada did the only thing he could think of; he seized her by the arms, hauled her up against his chest, and proceeded to kiss every thought but him out of her head.
When he finally tore his mouth away from hers, he noted with grim satisfaction the dazed, misty look in her eyes, and the rapid rise and fall of her chest. "Don't ever do that again," he ordered tersely, half-panting as he struggled to bring his own breathing back under control.
"I... I won't," murmured Elfraine breathlessly before lapsing into distracted silence as she stared dreamily at his lips. She didn't even notice that she was no longer feeling sick.
Her response was everything Nuada could wish for. His temper was quickly assuaged and a triumphant smirk spread across his face.
Elfraine snapped out of her smitten trance at the sight of it. "So long as I am not pushed to my limits again," she added acerbically.
His smug expression rapidly disappeared. She was... impossible! It was obviously time to set right some of the misconceptions she appeared to have about the whole episode out on the terrace. "I do not, as a rule, explain myself," he began, in a measured tone. "But I will make an exception in this instance, if only to lay the matter to rest once and for all. Had I known we could save Pop... " With a sharp intake of breath, and an even sharper look at Elfraine, he stopped just in time and corrected himself. "Had I known we could save the dragon," he enunciated, "I would have done so without hesitation. However, I did not know and in any event, I have never performed such a feat before. To do so requires the magic of one of the great dragons of the earth and by the time I was old enough and skilled enough for such work, there were no more great dragons left in this world. There were only the younger ones, and they, of course, were all eventually exterminated by your kind."
He hesitated for a moment and gave her a questioning look before continuing on, less certain of his facts now. "You must have something more than the gift of immortality. It is the only explanation that makes any sense. You are the likely catalyst for what happened on the balcony, though the Gods only know how we managed the thing if neither of us had any idea what we were about." He frowned in thought. "It may be too that the dragon's own nascent magic played a part."
Elfraine opened her mouth and drew breath to speak but Nuada hadn't finished yet. "As to your feeling sick," he continued on, overriding her attempt to say something and sounding ever so slightly condescending to her ears. "From what I have heard of such matters, it is only to be expected. It was also your first time performing such a deed and you are not born of magic. Should you ever do such a thing again, I believe it will go easier with you."
He paused and before he could add to his words, Elfraine leapt in to have her say. "So, it was virgin territory for both of us then," she observed quickly, with a look of wide-eyed innocence.
Nuada's eyes narrowed and his grip on her arms tightened fractionally.
"No wonder you're so overset," she continued on blithely. "I trust that now you're also, ah, broken in as it were, it will go easier with you as well next time, though we can take things slowly... if you're still a bit jittery about it all."
His fingers dug painfully into her arms and Elfraine was skewered by a pair of sharp, auriferous eyes as her words fanned his temper once more. She had to bite the inside of her mouth to stop herself from laughing at his baleful look of masculine pique, though she couldn't quite keep the gleam of amusement out of her eyes.
"There will not be a next time," he told her in no uncertain terms.
"If you say so, sweeting," she replied nonchalantly, as she chucked him under the chin and winked at him. Taking quick advantage of his fuming silence, she shrugged his hands off her arms and pushed herself up off the couch.
Her action forced Nuada to stand as well and take a step backwards. A shadow of pain flickered across his face as his wounded leg protested the unexpected move, and Elfraine suddenly recalled his injury.
"Oh, Nuada! Your leg! I'm so sorry to tease you when you're hurt," she exclaimed. "Here, sit down and let me have a look at it." She moved aside so he could take a seat.
There was no doubting the concern in her voice, and it effectively doused the last smouldering embers of his temper.
He took a seat on the couch and leaned back to look up at her. "If you bring me water and a cloth, I will see to it, thank you," he said.
"I'll certainly get water and a cloth," she replied, walking over to the kitchen sink. "But please, let me tend to you. I do have some experience seeing to injuries," she assured him, as she filled a large bowl with water.
"But not recent experience, I take it," he remarked, dryly.
Elfraine immediately recognised his oblique reference to the dragon magic. "Not in respect of myself, no," she replied, with a small laugh. She walked back to the couch and put the bowl of water and a clean, damp cloth, down on the coffee table before heading for the bathroom. Pausing at the door, she turned back to explain. "I did, of course, have some... basic experience prior to 1615. In those days we had to shift for ourselves in matters medical. And then in 1915, when I was back in Turkey – to visit the memorial of a... a good friend, and the grave of her young son... to pay my respects to them before heading up to Greece - I met..." She paused as two memories entwined and cast a brief shadow on her heart. "I met a medic from the Antipodes. He... he was stationed with the Australian Army Medical Corps, at Gallipoli, and he taught me more about the science of Hippocrates than I ever wished to know."
Shaking off her melancholy thoughts, she slid Nuada a sideways look. "You'll be pleased to learn that I've polished up my hard-learnt doctoring skills in recent times by practicing on Goblin. It seems he gets into a fight just about every other evening," she added, before quickly disappearing into the bathroom.
Nuada was not at all pleased to learn that her most recent experience involved patching up a cat, and he shot the irascible feline in question a dark look. It didn't surprise him at all though to hear that the fractious creature got himself into trouble as often as he did.
Elfraine came back out of the bathroom carrying a first aid kit under her arm and drying her hands on a towel. She returned to the couch and put her supplies on the seat beside Nuada, and then knelt down before him. After pushing back the severed edges of his pants, she inspected the wound on his thigh. Thick, dark-gold blood congealed along the length of the laceration, and she quickly and gently washed it away with the damp cloth. Nuada's hiss of indrawn breath told her that for all her care, it still pained him. After she'd cleaned up the injury, she could see it wasn't serious but it was nasty enough and would still require stitching, which was never pleasant for the person being patched up. At least it was a clean cut and would be easy enough to sew shut. A sudden thought struck her and she gave him a considering look. "I wonder... could we fix it in the same way as we fixed Poppet, do you think?"
"No, I do not think so," he replied in a tone that brooked no argument.
There was a moment of startled silence. "Well... well... fie on you then!" she spluttered at last, arguing anyway. "I know you said there'd be no next time but I can't believe you'd be so stubborn as to cut off your nose to spite your face."
"That is not the case at all," he answered, with a sharp edge to his voice. "If it were a matter of life and death, then I would, of course, take whatever measures were necessary but..." He stopped abruptly. "What, by Aiglin, are you doing?" he asked impatiently as he looked down at Elfraine. She'd placed her hands gently on either side of the wound and was staring at it, her brow furrowed with intense concentration.
"Seizing the reins, as it were," she replied, "or at least, trying to. You're going to need stitches, you know, and fixing it this way will obviate the need for that and spare you the discomfort." She frowned even more fiercely. "Why is this not working? Perhaps if you were a bit more cooperative..."
Nuada raised a brow at that but let it go. "So, you cannot summon the dragon magic at will then," he murmured thoughtfully.
"No, it would seem not," she conceded peevishly, as her efforts failed yet again.
"No doubt because you are human," he theorised, sounding, once again, more than a little condescending to Elfraine's ears. "It must come forth only when you are in immediate danger or in pain... or under great stress," he added, as he thought of how she'd reacted when the young dragon had been fatally wounded.
"Well, that's no bloody use then, is it!" she muttered. "At least, not to you. I only wished to spare you the unpleasantness of being stitched back together again."
Leaning forward, Nuada took hold of her chin and raised her face so that she was looking up at him. He winced slightly as the wound pulled painfully. "Do not fret about it, Lady. Your desire to spare me any discomfort is appreciated but you could be an Elven healer and I would still not permit you to use magic to help things along. I prefer to let minor wounds heal of their own accord, with only such physical intervention as is absolutely necessary."
"Why ever would you want to do that?" Elfraine asked, more than a little puzzled.
"Because it might serve as a reminder not to be so careless next time," he replied succinctly.
"Oh," she murmured. There was a brief pause as she digested that piece of information. "I... I see... And do you remember... to be more careful?" she asked curiously.
Nuada gave a wry smile. "For the most part I do, though it's a lesson that obviously bears repeating every now and again. And now, if you'd be so good as to sew me up..." He released her and leaned back against the couch once more.
"Of course," she replied, giving him a soft smile. On impulse, she stood up and leaned over to drop a quick kiss on his cheek. "I'll be as careful as I can. For all that you can find a purpose in it, I don't like the thought of adding to your pain in any way."
A warm feeling washed through him at her words and something lurched in his chest. He reached up and caught her head, burying his hands in her hair and holding her in place as he leaned forward. "You won't... at least, no more than I can bear," he murmured against her lips before taking her mouth in a warm kiss that was over far too soon for the liking of either of them.
Elfraine grasped his wrists and leaned her forehead against his, taking a deep breath. "Well, I... I'd best make a start," she whispered.
"Yes," he agreed softly, as he slowly let her go.
She sank back down to the floor, sitting between his legs as he leaned back in the couch. Reaching over his good leg, she retrieved the first aid kit and set it down beside her. Half-turning, she opened up the box and took out a pack of sterile needles and nylon thread. "I'll see if I can't make a neater job of sewing up this wound than has been made with some of your previous injuries," she remarked casually as she threaded the needle.
"By all means, do your best," replied Nuada, "but I am not overly concerned with appearances. So long as it holds together, that is all I ask."
"I can promise you it will hold," Elfraine assured him. She tied a knot in the thread and turned back to him.
He'd pulled down one side of his shirt and was examining a particularly nasty-looking scar on his shoulder. "Mr Wink was certainly no tailor," he murmured.
"Mr Wink?" she inquired, pushing aside the torn edges of his pants once more.
"He... he was a good friend. He saw to a great number of my wounds over the years," explained Nuada quietly, pulling his shirt back up.
Elfraine raised her eyes to his face. She guessed from his tone and words that Mr Wink could no longer be counted amongst the living. "So, your scars are not just badges of honour then but also memories of a friend's care for you," she observed softly, before turning her attention back to his wound.
Nuada looked down at her bent head. "I suppose they are. I hadn't thought to consider them in that light," he murmured.
"Hmmm." Elfraine carefully held the edges of the wound together. She flashed him an apologetic look and then started stitching.
Nuada gritted his teeth as the needle pierced his skin and leaned his head back against the couch, waiting for the sharp pinch of the next stitch. But Elfraine started talking again and distracted him from her ministrations.
"It's more than simply the means to an end with you, isn't it," she said, without prelude.
"What?" he asked, as he looked down at her again. He was mystified as to what she could possibly be on about now.
"Fighting," she answered.
He shook his head. "I still do not take your meaning," he said, as puzzled as ever.
Elfraine smiled up briefly at him before continuing with her stitching. "You raise it above its mundane and pedestrian purpose, and take it into another realm altogether," she explained. "You make almost an art form of it. When I watched you out on the terrace before, I could see that divine spark of... oh, I don't know." She stopped sewing for a moment as she considered the word she was searching for. "I'm not sure 'creativity' is quite the right thing to call it, given that anyone on the wrong end of your weapon surely faces imminent destruction." She gave him a wry look before resuming her sewing. "Perhaps 'brilliance' is a better word to use in respect of the art of combat. Yes, that's it," she decided, happy now with her choice. "You have that divine spark of brilliance - or ability, if you will - which so few do, wherever their talents may lie."
"You are in danger of turning my head with your lavish, and surely undeserved, praise, Lady," he disavowed.
"I would not have counted modesty amongst your virtues, Your Highness," she said, giving him a teasing look from under her lashes. "Sit back Nuada, and allow me to wax lyrical over you for a little while. It may not happen again."
"Very well then," he agreed, with a lazy smile. "Heap your accolades upon me if you must. I'll not naysay you."
"Once again, you are too kind. You see how easily it becomes a habit if practiced enough," she counselled mischievously. "No. For the likes of me, and indeed, for most of the world, fighting is simply a means to an end. Some might actually become quite adept in the discipline but nevertheless, they still remain utilitarian practitioners. For the likes of you though, it goes beyond that. It's a passion... something which speaks to your soul and which must find expression in return. It involves every part of your being, and you know it intimately and naturally... in a way which few others do. And it's that special, innate knowledge which gives you a hand up to the pinnacle of attainment, and which allows you to lift your art out of the ordinary as you strive to be the best you can possibly be."
"I do always endeavour to be the best that I can," Nuada agreed, surprised by her insight. "But I would hardly say I've reached the pinnacle of attainment in respect of my efforts. It seems there is always something to improve upon."
"I suppose it's in the nature of genius to keep your eye fixed on the peak and never look down to see how far you've come," Elfraine mused. "You may take it from me that you quite cast the rest of us in the shade with your skill, and such things as you feel you have to improve upon must surely be nothing more than mere trifles."
"You have some experience in such matters?" he asked, as he arched a brow.
"I do," she affirmed, confidently.
"I see," he remarked dryly, thinking she talked about herself. "And where does your particular 'genius' lie?"
"Me?" she exclaimed in surprise. "Good God, no. I don't lay claim to genius of any sort. No, I merely speak as one who has been privileged to witness great talent twice before in my life."
"Oh?" he inquired, skeptically.
"Yes," she replied, emphatically. "Messrs Shakespeare and Bach... Johann Sebastian, that is."
"Ah yes, your beloved playwright and... who was that other one? A musician of some sort wasn't he," remarked Nuada, sounding supremely unimpressed.
"A musician, certainly, but first and foremost, a composer," corrected Elfraine, a little testily. "And only the best that ever lived."
"That is debatable," he countered. In reality, he had no intention of ever engaging in such a debate, and he most certainly wasn't going to tell her he'd actually met the composer, in the spring of 1718 when he'd been forced to endure the hospitality of some German prince, of the House of Ascania, in order to run another human to ground: a human who'd committed the vilest of crimes against some of the youngest and most defenceless of the Fae. "And I would most certainly argue against being lumped in alongside two humans," he said resolutely instead.
"Nonsense!" she exclaimed, hiding a smile. "You are in very good company so you needn't turn your nose up at the comparison. But if you don't like it, by all means think of those of your own kind in whom such genius resides... and feel free to lump yourself in alongside them instead. And now, I think we're all finished here," she noted, quickly tying off the thread.
Nuada's eyes narrowed at her words but as he looked down at the neat line of stitches which now held his wound together, he decided it would be churlish to take her to task. "It would seem you do have a genius of your own, after all," he remarked.
Elfraine laughed at that. "Please don't tell me it lies in sewing. I cannot think of a more disheartening thing, unless perhaps it's cooking!"
"I was not going to say sewing," he assured her. "While you are certainly a very capable seamstress, your genius would appear to lie in the art of distraction. I felt the first stitch go in, and then you started talking and after that I barely felt a thing."
"Well, I suppose it's a step up from sewing," said Elfraine, with a rueful smile. "You'll have to be careful of those stitches for a week or two," she warned him. "Then after that, they can come out."
"They can come out in a day or two," Nuada corrected. "The Fae heal more rapidly than humans," he explained quickly as she opened her mouth to argue the point.
"Oh! That's certainly an advantage," she remarked instead.
"But not so much of an advantage as you have," he murmured.
"No," she agreed, with a grin. "Now, if you're happy with my handiwork on your leg, I'll tack these edges together next," she offered, gesturing to the tear in his pants.
"Thank you," he murmured.
She started to put tacking stitches along the torn edges, and spoke again as she did so. "I've only ever met two others who possessed a similar innate gift as you for the arts of Mars, though you still stand head and shoulders above them. My cousin Hal was one."
"A human," Nuada sneered dismissively.
At their words, Goblin, who'd been sitting quietly by the dragons, sprang up on all four paws and arched his back, his fur standing on end. He hissed threateningly at Nuada and in return, the Elven prince pinned the surly cat with a malevolent look.
"Yes, a human... obviously," agreed Elfraine, rolling her eyes at Nuada's altogether predictable reaction. "And the other was a Jiniri."
Nuada tore his gaze away from Goblin.
"Surely you could not object to her. I met her in Constantinople, not long after I discovered I was immortal," continued Elfraine.
Nuada looked down sharply at her. She had his full attention now.
"I only knew her for a little under six months but she was one of the best friends I ever had." A wistful note crept into Elfraine's voice as she spoke. "Amongst the many things I have to thank her for is the fact that I recognised the Varangian sword in the BPRD armoury the other day... the one which your sister used to such good effect against the shadow creature that attacked her."
A strange feeling of... anticipation, almost, was slowly clawing its way up through Nuada's gut now, and he tensed as Elfraine continued speaking.
"My friend had such a sword, and to say she knew how to use it would be an understatement. Had you ever seen her fight with it, you would not be able to dismiss her as easily as you do poor, dear Hal. Though, of course, with her not being human, I'm sure you would have thought favourably of her from the outset... just as I'm sure that if Hal wasn't human, you would have probably quite liked him too," she added, placing the last stitch in the now-mended tear and then tying off the thread. She pulled back to inspect her handiwork with a critical eye, drawing breath to speak again as she did so.
The whisper of memory that had stirred in Nuada's mind when he watched Elfraine fight out on the terrace was now fairly clamouring in his head, and he found he couldn't even take issue with her assertion that he might have liked her cousin. He could only stare at her and let the inexorable flow of her words wash over him.
"She was the one who taught me how to fight, you know, though you shouldn't attempt to judge her skills by my poor application," Elfraine continued, looking back up at Nuada with a self-deprecatory smile.
And at her words, the tide of remembrance burst through in full flood and he suddenly knew why fighting alongside her had felt so strangely familiar.
Elfraine paused, and a shadow of grief passed over her face as she remembered her friend. "The world became a darker and emptier place the day..."
"The day Dihyā al-Kāhinat died," Nuada broke in quietly, saying the words he'd never said aloud and closing his eyes against the pain it cost him to do so now.
Elfraine froze as even the power of speech abruptly deserted her. She couldn't have torn her eyes away from his face had her life depended on it, and she struggled to comprehend the full import of what he'd just said. After a long moment, she found her tongue again. "You... you knew her!" she whispered, stunned by the incredible coincidence.
Nuada's eyes snapped back open and fixed on Elfraine. "Knew her?" he exclaimed bitterly. A mirthless smile twisted his dark lips as memories of the past pressed in on him. "She was everything to me and I would have done anything for her. I loved Dihyā and would have taken her for my wife but I... I stupidly thought I had other priorities to see to first, and time enough besides, and whilst I was so... so diligently employed, death claimed her instead."
Elfraine was taken completely unawares by a swift stab of jealousy and was immediately horrified, and disconcerted, by the petty, selfish feeling. It was quickly replaced with sympathy and compassion as she reacted to the bleak sorrow and savage self-recrimination she heard in his voice. "Oh, Nuada," she said softly as she gently squeezed his hand. "I'm so sorry."
Her own memories of her friend crowded in and suddenly, she drew a sharp breath and gripped Nuada's hand even harder, her nails unconsciously digging into his flesh, as one recollection in particular stood out starkly from the rest.
He glanced down at their joined hands and then back to Elfraine's face, and was arrested by the stricken look he beheld there. But before he could say anything, she gazed past his shoulder and started to speak.
""A warrior from out of the West; proud and fair. He moved like the wind, swift and silent when stealth was called for; or raging in full fury when force was needed to carry the day... and always, always delivering justice and retribution for our kind with flashing blades of silver that never missed their mark."" Elfraine dragged her gaze back to Nuada's face and looked into his golden eyes. "And... and he never knew," she whispered cryptically.
There was a moment of silence and then she spoke again, almost reluctantly. "Nuada, though Dihyā never told me your name, I... I think she was talking about you when she said those words to me."
Nuada found he could make no response. There was something about the look in her eyes and the tone of her voice which chilled his blood, and he was gripped by a sudden sense of foreboding.
With a heavy heart, Elfraine pushed herself away from him and stood awkwardly to stare down at him for a moment. Though she would have given almost anything not to be the one to have to do this, there was no putting it off. She walked over to the wooden desk from where she'd retrieved her diaries earlier, looking for all the world as if she was about to mount the scaffold. Opening the top drawer this time, she pulled out an old, gold locket, the chain of which was threaded by a delicate, silver filigree ring.
Nuada stiffened as he recognised the finely-wrought piece of jewellery.
Elfraine carefully undid the locket chain and removed the ring. She then did up the chain's clasp again and placed the locket back in the top drawer. As she returned to the couch, she felt like Atlas standing on the western shores of Gaia and bearing the weight of the celestial spheres on his shoulders.
Stopping in front of Nuada, she held out the ring to him.
He stared at the exquisitely-crafted pattern of Aiglin, the father tree, the gnarled trunk of which was designed to encircle the finger of the wearer. An intricate profusion of foliage flourished all around the heart of the tree, forming an elegant entanglement which belied the delicate fragility of the individual leaves. And as he stared at the ring, Nuada remembered both the day he'd finished making it and the day he'd given it to Dihyā, with such love for her and such renewed hope for the future as he'd never thought to feel again.
"I... I think this might belong to you," Elfraine prompted gently as she continued to hold the ring out to him. "Dihyā gave it to me the day she died."
His eyes flew to hers. "You... you were with her when she died?" he asked, a strange mixture of hope and astonishment threading his voice.
"I was," replied Elfraine.
He shifted his gaze back to the ring and hesitantly took it from her. "I... I made this for her and gave it to her the last time ever I saw her. It was meant to seal my promise that I would return and make her my wife," he said, a bitter hint of self-reproach creeping into his voice once more. He looked back up at Elfraine again. "Would... would you tell me what happened... how she died? When I finally returned to Constantinople to claim her, I learnt she'd been dead for many years and I could find no one able to tell me anything about the circumstances of her death."
Elfraine sank to her knees before him and clasped his hands between hers. "Oh, Nuada! Of course, I'll tell you everything. But before I do, my dear, there's something else you need to know, though I'd give almost anything not to have such terrible tidings for you... for I know it's only going to cause you great pain." She briefly pressed her forehead to their linked hands, as if gathering courage, and then looked up at him.
His feeling of foreboding returned in full force as he saw her fathomless brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and it was as well she had hold of him in some way because at the next words she spoke, every nerve in his body went numb and he felt as if he'd been hurled off the edge of the world.
Speaking softly, Elfraine told him what he would never have known otherwise. "Nuada, Dihyā died avenging the murder of her baby son... the son she bore you almost four hundred years ago."
.
.
References:
'Shift for ourselves': appropriation of Sir Thomas More's words as he mounted the scaffold before being beheaded in 1535. ("I pray you, Mr Lieutenant, see me safe up and for my coming down, I can shift for myself.")
Antipodes: the point on the Earth's surface which is diametrically opposite to another given point and can be connected to it by a straight line running through the centre of the Earth. In the United Kingdom, "the Antipodes" is often used to refer to Australia and New Zealand.
Gallipoli Campaign: aka the Dardanelles Campaign or the Battle of Çanakkale (25 April 1915 – 9 January 1916, during World War I). The campaign was a failed attempt by joint British/French forces to capture the Ottoman (Turkish) capital of Constantinople (Istanbul) and secure a sea route to Russia, and there were heavy casualties on both sides. The campaign was considered one of the greatest victories of the Turks and a major failure of the Allies, and it resonated profoundly for all nations involved. In Turkey, the battle is perceived as a defining moment in the history of the Turkish people. It was also the first major battle undertaken in the war by Australia and New Zealand, and is often considered to mark the birth of national consciousness in both of these countries.
Hippocrates (c. 460 BC – c. 370 BC): an ancient Greek physician, referred to as the father of Western medicine.
Arts of Mars: the martial arts, Mars being the Roman god of war. The term 'martial arts' although now most strongly associated with the fighting styles of eastern Asia, was also used as early as the mid-sixteenth century in respect of European combat systems.
Jiniri: female Djinn. (Djinn: Arabic spirits, or genies, who inhabit an unseen world in dimensions beyond the human world in Islamic mythology. The djinn, humans and angels make up the three sentient creations of God. The Koran mentions that djinn are made of a smokeless and scorching fire, and they have the physical property of weight. Like human beings, the djinn can also be good, evil, or neutrally benevolent.)
Dihyā al-Kāhinat: O/C inspired by and based (very) loosely on Daya Ult Yenfaq Tajrawt (c. early 7th century AD – c. late 7th century AD). A Berber religious and military leader who led indigenous resistance to Arab expansion in Northwest Africa. Al-Kāhinat (the female priestess-soothsayer) was the nickname used by her opponents because of her reputed ability to foresee the future.
Atlas: (Greek mythology) sided with the Titans in their war against the Olympians and was condemned by Zeus to stand on the western shores of Gaia (Earth) and hold up the sky on his shoulders.