Chapter Eighteen –
A Conversation of the Light and Dark
Wake, Princess.
Elowyn started from her sleep, with a violent tremor of her entire body. Returning to consciousness, she became aware of sight, sound, smell, and feeling again.
She was lying on an uneven but soft and springy surface of some sort, with something that felt like a coverlet of heavy velvet drawn over her. The air that was now touching upon her bare collarbones, throat, arms, and face was cool and slightly moist – the air of nighttime, with a fragrance that reminded her of pine and dew. Around her, as she remained lying still, on her back, with both her eyes closed, she could hear a few noises. There was a fire crackling somewhere nearby, and, her sharp faery ears detected, however faintly, the music of crickets chirping; an owl making its solitary cry.
And she heard breathing.
All at once, reality and memory rushed back to her. She had run from the palace – from Iordania and the vampyre nobleman, Lord Valdeth – and galloped into the woods with Orpheus; a monster had attacked her there, a horrible creature with five lion-like heads and the whipping, barbed tail of a wyvern. And then – and then he had rescued her!
Jaedin.
Her eyes flew wide open.
The scenery that she saw about her was nothing like the forest that she had last seen; no, this place where she lay, on a makeshift bed of wild heather boughs, was anything but the wide-open, tree-filled forest. This was a cavern: a small cave of some sort, apparently.
Her 'bed' had been placed somewhere near the back of it, against the craggy stone wall, allowing her to look out across the rest of the space. Indeed, there was a fire that had been built in the middle of the surprisingly even, sandy floor, and a little more than twenty feet to the front of her was the cave's opening, a perfect round door through which she could catch a glimpse of the night sky, with the moon and stars shining brightly in its expanse.
It was late at night.
Her eyes, however, were soon wrested from their perusal of the panorama just outside of the stone cell that she was now inside of, for she had – at last – marked the shadowy, cloaked figure who had was sitting before the fire, crouching like a large predatory cat of some sort. The hood of the cloak, which was gray, had been drawn over its wearer's head, but Elowyn knew, without a doubt, whose face and features lay just beneath its shelter.
But where were they? Where had he brought her to, and why? Why had he rescued her from the horrific monster – the ranthar – and then brought her here?
Didn't he desire her dead…?
No.
She sat up, feeling dazed and lightheaded.
"Valdeth…" she murmured.
Instantly, the cloaked head turned towards her, unnervingly fast; she saw the gleam of silvery eyes in the firelight, as it glanced off of them. She shuddered, recoiling.
The figure stood, moving slowly, elegantly, and began to walk towards her.
"I am here, my lady…"
His dry, cultured voice, that had captivated so many, drifted to her out of the darkness, giving her the sensation that he was right there, next to her, even though her eyes told her that he was still several feet away. Elowyn restrained herself from shrinking back…in fear.
Instead, she spoke.
"Where are we…where have you brought me to…why is it so dark?"
"Because…as you may well recall, Princess…I do not much like the light."
He had revealed himself – it was true then!
"So it is you," she bit back, her voice full of ice and loathing. "You admit it."
Just then, a terrible wave of pain assailed her, seeming to emanate from the back and side of her head. Elowyn put up a hand to the source of the pain, without thinking, nearly doubling over when the pain increased.
Vaguely – only just – she sensed that he had suddenly moved much more quickly, and had taken a seat beside her on the low makeshift bed. The instant that she felt his strong, living warmth beside her, his form that radiated power in tightly coiled dark waves: fitting up against hers seamlessly, she wanted to shy away, to distance herself from him. But there was no evading him this time, as before…she simply couldn't move back.
Cool, deft fingertips brushed against her skin: ungloved, she realized, for the first time. She closed her eyes, willing the pain to go away, quiet and still, as Jaedin – hoodless now – looked down upon his beautiful young charge, assessing the bandage that he himself had placed on her head, earlier that day.
He had ridden past the boundary of the White Realm once again, crossing back into the mortal world, and found that they were now in a part of Elvendome that he had never before visited. It seemed to be sparsely inhabited, and this was an advantage for him. He wouldn't have to continually concern himself with the thought of her friends coming along after her.
After him.
Having taken this into thought, he rode on – Elowyn's Pegasus following close behind the entire time – until, several hours later, he had found a satisfactory refuge: a small cave that was located on a stony hillside, a narrow pathway leading up to its mouth. There, he had employed his knowledge of battle wounds and their treatments to nurse the injured princess.
Apparently, the ranthar had done most of the damage, but not all. The princess had three huge, long gashes across her torso and chest, from when the creature had swiped her out of the saddle, and several more smaller – but no less painful, he had ascertained – cuts and bruises. Her arm had been badly twisted under her in her fall, but nothing had been broken; more than four of her ribs, however, had been cracked, and come dangerously close to puncturing one of her lungs. Fortunately, Jaedin knew more than a little about tending to various wounds…
Now, he sought to check on the convalescence of the swollen knot that was on the back of her head, just behind her right ear. It had been bleeding profusely when he had first taken her into his arms, but then, most head-wounds will do that, he knew.
Gently, so as not to disturb the healing skin, he lifted away the wrapping and glanced over the damage. Appearing to be satisfied then, he turned briefly aside and began to sort through something that was lying at the foot of the bed, on the ground.
Elowyn watched him, her eyes careful and wary.
Why had he rescued her…
At length, he turned back towards her again, and she shrank back, almost involuntarily: driven by her immense fear and hatred of the entity that she saw before her. Jaedin did not react. Now was not the time to begin another fiery but strangely exhilarating battle of the wits with her; he could not hazard furthering her injuries, nor would he.
And so, without comment or change of expression, he leaned forward again and brushed his fingertips over the wound, applying both the healing salve that he had made and his own regenerating magic. Elowyn closed her eyes as he did this, savoring the vanishing of the dull pain that had been throbbing in her head, and, at the same time, wondering – How is it that something so cruel could be this gentle, this deft…?
She had had such a thought before.
Recalling that made her open her eyes.
Jaedin finished replacing the bandage and drew back from her, but only enough to look into her eyes. They sparkled and glowed, like gems of sea-jade, even in the low firelight…
"It is you," she whispered, meeting his gaze directly.
"Once again, Princess," he said, drawling the words nonchalantly and calmly, in response to her question, "You have managed to shed light on a dark situation."
And with that, he made a slight, airy gesture of one elegant, long, ungloved hand: the curves and lines of its muscles, skin, and ligaments catching the firelight and shadow.
Immediately, the fire burst into a hearty roar, allowing them to see one another by full light at last – clearly. They were silent, gazing into one another's eyes for a moment: cold, feminine fury on Elowyn's part, darker and more indescribable emotion on Jaedin's. Finally, she spoke.
"What made you come here – back to me – again, Dark One?"
The corners of his full lips lifted, ever so slightly, in a show of wry, almost rueful amusement, but she couldn't decide at what. She did realize, however, that it made the scar on his upper lip seem more visible, and it reminded her that he – no matter what he looked like; no matter if he looked as if he was around her own age – was the denizen of millenniums before her time, and the master of evil beyond her comprehension.
How carefully, then, must you tread, Elowyn…
All Jaedin made in reply to her question was a simple, almost forthright answer. Pulling her blanket – which, she belatedly marked, was in reality his cloak of black velvet – up around her body, shielding her from the night's chill air, he looked at her and replied, "The same thing made me follow you here that made me come to find you the first time, Princess. Know it as a command that I could not let go unheeded, if you wish – know it as destiny, if that is what you want. It could be many things…"
He stood, looming over her at his great height, and Elowyn followed him with her gaze. She had just noticed, also, that her gown was gone – evidently, it had been so torn up and such an inhibition to treating her, that he had seen fit to have done with it. Now, she wore a nightgown-like white shift; it appeared that he had transformed her ruined apparel into that. There was a peculiar tightness around her upper torso, and one that did not come from a corset…more bandages, to protect and heal the wounds from the ranthar.
It was almost past believing. He – the Dark Lord of Sytherria, her veritable sworn enemy – had rescued her from a monster…and then tended to her wounds.
This, from the one whom I thought would have left me to die…
"Why?" she whispered.
The liquid mercury eyes gazed down at her: speculative and unreadable, otherwise.
"I do not desire for anyone else to have this pleasure," he said, in a low voice; she was reminded of its edge of a vicious, hissing snarl and subsided slightly. "I will not allow anyone else to take you – to imprison and hold you, as I have…"
His words said more than just that…
"Now…rest; get some sleep, my Sea-Jade." She felt his fingers come down, and gently stroke through her hair, as those of a parent's might with that of their child. But Jaedin was no parent of hers, and he was far from friend or kin, as well. Elowyn put her hand up and circled her fingers around his wrist, making it evident that she wished for him to stop. Still, the silvery eyes bent their unchanging regard on her. "We have a long journey to make on the morrow – a road that we must not tarry on…" he told her, softly.
Elowyn felt breathless: sick with dread.
"Whither to?" she asked.
A pause.
"The Black City, Fair One. Sleep…"
The Black City…to his Queen! No – no – I will not go there! No, you cannot make me – you cannot do this! NO…
But the deep, kind black void of unconsciousness claimed her, and she knew no more.
* * *
Hours later, Elowyn awakened again: slitting her eyes very carefully open and scanning her surroundings. Through the mouth of the cave, she saw the snatch of sky and scenery, and the sapphire-blue hue of the sky, almost entirely bereft of stars, told her that dawn was fast approaching. Dawn…morning…daylight.
She gave a great, shuddering sigh then.
This morn would be the beginning of yet another horror for her, if she did not escape. And she couldn't; her dark captor would not allow her to elude him a second time…
Wait.
Dawn…morning…
Daylight.
Jaedin was a vampyre.
He had already spent several days out in the sun – if she recalled it aright, vampyres could not stand more than three days' exposure to the daylight; hence, they were nocturnal.
And therefore, he could not now follow her with any safety to himself, were she to make a bid for her escape!
She hadn't any idea of where she was; all she could tell, at that moment, was that they were no longer in the White Realm. But this mattered little. She had long been adventuring out in the wide world, with not a map or compass to guide her footsteps, and sojourning in unknown places was hardly a frightening concept to her. Wherever she was, she would simply move as quickly and inconspicuously as she could, and make all attempts to soon find some of her comrades.
But – she must escape now.
One glance around the cave showed her where her companion slept. He was sitting up, leaning against the wall of the cave, near its entrance. She would have to go past him in order to get out…but she could do it. She would – she had to, as there was no possible other way for her to escape. And she could hardly make herself vanish into thin air. Such a talent was indeed known to the faeries, but she – in her seventeen years – had not yet mastered it.
Stealthily, she got up.
He slept deeply, when he did indeed sleep, she remembered. That first meeting in the Tower…he had already been awake for a while, by the time that she had made her attempt to get out of the bed, she had decided, and nothing she had done before then – no movement or noise from her – could have awakened him. He had, in all likeliness, been without rest for some time while transporting her back to his realm with him, and now…
Her progress went unmarked. Elowyn brought the cloak along with her and pulled it on around her shoulders.
It was noticeably long and heavy on her, having been made for a much taller, stronger person – but it would have to do. She was not just about to go running off through whatever countryside she was now in, wearing nothing but some sort of nightgown. Yes, her apparel was acceptable enough, but a nightgown…?
The cloak had his scent in it.
She inhaled it every time she took a breath: deep, powerful yet subtle, tinged with dark spices and incenses that she could only name a few of. It reminded her of him as a dragon, when he had taken that form: great, black, and imposing, a living embodiment of the shadows.
How she strove to clear that from her mind!
Then, with a deep breath: mentally preparing herself, she set her shoulders and looked to the cave's mouth. Once again, she was going to escape the Dark Lord of Sytherria, and they would not meet up again unless she had her friends with her…
But you must ask yourself, Elowyn: what are your feelings of that, exactly? Do you want to find him again…for him to find you again? What might come then…
She shook her head, gazing without emotion at the cloaked figure of her companion.
That was yet another thought that she refused to linger upon.
And so, without another moment's pause, the young faery princess slipped out of the shadowy cavern that she had spent the night in, with her nemesis to guard her, and stepped into the cool morning. The chill air bit her bare feet, whistling about the white silk of her gown, and she drew her pilfered cloak more closely about her, eyes casting about her for a few seconds. Then, she heard a surprising and thoroughly unexpected noise – a soft, breathy nicker.
"Orpheus!" she exclaimed, in an incredulous, overjoyed whisper.
She flew down the narrow pathway that led up to the cave, which was situated halfway up a rocky hillside, and ran to her old friend, pulling his head down by the bridle and caressing his large, horse-like face with undisguised happiness. He had followed her through peril and toil, yet again!
Mounting up quickly then, she murmured to the Pegasus, who swiveled his ears back to hear her: "Let's go – the gorgon sleeps, but I do not know for how long! Off with us."
The Pegasus again needed no urging: he had been distrustful enough of the dark figure who had carried off his young mistress, and now it was a delight indeed for him to leave the memory of that far behind. He spread his wings and took off at a gentle canter, his hooves making no noise on the dewy green grass—
And within moments, the princess and her winged companion had soared off into the dawn.
Jaedin, and whatever he had meant for her, was left far behind.
For now, was her grimly realistic thought.
Only for the moment.
* * *
A/N: And now, a special note from the authoress, and everyone's favorite Dark Lord…
(The scene which the reader now "sees" before himself/herself – come on now, work with me; thank you – is one of an empty, Broadway-esque stage. And coming out of the wings to approach the microphone set up in its exact center is none other than Kates, dressed in the elaborate golden ballgown from Once Upon A Time, borrowed from the oh-so-kind Odessa-Gadriel, and Jaedin, in his typical black velvet tunic, breeches, and cloak. Kates looks very pleased with herself.)
Kates: Ladies and gentlemen, enchanters and enchantresses, sorcerers, erstwhile authors and authoresses, fans and fellow friends, thank you for being here tonight. It is an honour to have had you along, thus far, on our journey through adventure, peril, and word-fencing. *grins*
Jaedin: However, now, if we may, the Authoress and I would like to take a brief measure of five minutes to do a favor, for a dear friend—
Kates: DarkSlytherinAngel, this is for you.
Jaedin: In a fantasy world where the characters speak with nearly as much scathing sarcasm and humor as I do—
Kates: (in an undertone) Although I think that would be hard to do for anybody.
Jaedin: (cuts off to glare at her shortly) And princes go running around picking up girls off of the forest floor…
Kates: While the heroine steadfastly behaves in a manner that she prefers, while ignoring the sanctions and trammels of society—
Jaedin: (low voice) Good word. Lord of the Rings-esque.
Kates: (winks at him) I try. (normal voice) While the authoress of it all gives vague, entrancing hints of even more adventure, romance, and humor to come in the future, you will find the tale of Christina. This story is marvelous – the way that the characters talk is a refreshing blend of both a fantasy world and the modern vernacular; the setting is almost reminiscent of Lord of the Rings with all the mentions of forests and trees, and such, and if you at all like my alter-ego, Princess Elowyn, of this story—
Jaedin: And I do – I really do…
Kates: (blushing) Jay…knock it off…not on stage, there's too many people waiting for us to finish… Criminy. Where was I now? Oh yes…if you like Elowyn at all, you'll like Christina just as much. She is AWESOME. For lack of a better word. Anyways, this story is great, and Jaedin and I have both intensely enjoyed reading it. So give it a whirl!
Jaedin: This has been an official announcement by the protagonists of True Hate and True Love – a favor done for DarkSlytherinAngel by two of her friends – yes, friends, I can be nice…when I want to – and fans. Until the next chapter, my friends…
Kates: And never underestimate the importance of the little blue button at the bottom of the screen! R&R…
(They walk off, and the stage goes to dark. Next chapter, then…) @{--------------------------