Disclaimer: I do not own the Tairen Soul Series by C.L. Wilson. I do own Angela and anything non-canon.
Ch. III: A new world
Angela awoke to the sound of birds chirping and soft lyrical voices. She slowly stretched trying to remember her surroundings. The first thing she felt was...clean.
That's right. She thought groggily. That Fey Lord said something strange and then I collapsed like a pacheeta.
Angela blinked and propped herself on her elbows. Gasping she marveled at herself. The soft, pale blue linen nightgown is utterly divine against her skin. Angela gaped at her hands.
They were delicate with healed callouses.
The bruises are gone. She thought awed. Angela felt dizzy and groaned.
"You're awake." Marissya said kindly as she approached Angela. "I'm so glad, ajiana. You've had a terrible time."
Stunned, Angela's dizziness briefly cleared as she stared at Marissya true blue eyes.
"L-L―Lady Marissya?" She stammered. Her alarm causing her vitals to overwork and Cyr rushed in. Scandalized, she pulled her cover up to her chin.
"Las ajiana." Marissya crooned, adding soothing shei'dahlin weaves. "You must rest. Cyr means you no harm."
"Where's Ravel? Sian? Torel?" Angela's voice was strangled and she saw Cyr narrow his eyes, looking every inch a legendary Fey warrior. He intimidated Angela. Why is he here? She thought bewildered.
"They are doing well, ajiana." Marissya said firmly. Her eyes softened. "What do you know of the Fey?"
Ajiana? Angela thought. Maybe that's my name in Feyan? She shook her head.
"Um, nothing really my lady." She stammered, forcing herself to retreat from Cyr's observant amber gaze. "Just that you come annually for Celierian-Fey relations. And, that one is to keep their distance from Fey warriors because they're so deadly." Biting her lip, she whispered, "And, uhm, I wanted―I wanted to thank you for what you did for my mother." She blushed, trying to ignore Cyr's attention.
Marissya gently placed her very feminine hand on Angela's knee making her feel more self-conscious. Who bathed me? She thought mortified.
"Your mother?" Marissya asked sadly.
"Felicity Michaelson, my lady," Angela said quietly. "You came after she had the fever. Papa―Vandar Michaelson―and I already lost my brother a few years back in a horseback accident…" Angela looked down at Marissya's beautiful hand unable to maintain eye contact. "We just couldn't afford to lose Mama, too."
Angela sat there confused as to what she was really feeling. Oddly enough she felt emotions roiling from Cyr. Don't be a pacheeta. Angela thought furiously.
Marissya raised her hand to lift Angela's chin and to look her in the eye. "Then I am glad I could help, ajiana." Angela blushed, leaning into her touch. She feels like a mother, too.
"What happened?" Marissya pressed, her heart clenching. Oh you love-starved child.
Angela's soft, full lips thinned into an angry line, making Cyr tense. "The Eld came." She said fiercely. "Papa was so thankful―he made a weapon to help the Fey. Somehow they found out." Her eyes blurred with tears. "It was the crows they bewitched."
"The crows?" Marissya echoed.
Angela remained captive to Marissya's soft touch. "I'm not crazy." She said defiantly. Her heart thudded in anticipation toward rejection that her mother's savior would think so.
"You're not." Marissya agreed solemnly. "I merely wanted to ask how you discovered it."
Embarrassed, Angela quickly answered. "They di'n't act like crows normally would, y'know? They were too silen'. They hardly cawed and some of 'em stayed in the same place for several hours. It ain't natural." Her Norban dialect slipped in her anxiety to tell the truth.
Marissya nodded. "Such are our findings in nature when the Eld have a presence." She regarded Angela thoughtfully. "Most mortals cannot see that."
"My brother, Kyle, was a good archer and taught me a few things." Angela said grimacing. "Then Papa hid most of his work in a spot under his smithy." Her eyes clouded. "Papa said to guard his work with his life," she took a breath. "He said he'd hold off the Eld and that I should hide deep in the woods. I tied his scrolls onto my legs and took off running."
The panicked scenes of her past bombarded her mind. She choked. Angela felt a strong hand on her shoulder. She relaxed into it slightly. Keeping her eyes closed she forced herself to continue, her jaw clenching. "Mama was healed and ran in a separate direction from me. The Eld, they tore her clothes off and threw something on her. It smelled like meat slime or something. They chanted and the lyrant came from nowhere. Three of them tore her to shreds." She gasped, her tears trekking down her face unawares. "Papa jumped one of them and tried to get to Mama." Angela trembled. "And the Eld―the Eld said since they knew neither of my parents could read or write then that meant there were no plans." Angela's shoulders shook. "They said I would be spared since I don't know either." Angela blurted.
It had been a dream of Angela's to become literate enough to read some Feytales from a book her mother purchased as an impulse for her children one prosperous summer from a traveling tradesman. As a child, Kyle and Angela would reenact the illustrations and create their own Feytales. Most children are allowed to learn. Except her family needed every available hand since Mama's dowry was her small family farm and Papa had his smithy. Angela was in her first month of an apprenticeship to Maestra Knowles, a local seamstress who often traveled to Celieria City to sell her wares, invited Angela for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to learn.
Angela was so thankful and proud. She had thought, with her savings mostly going to her family, she could save a few pieces of gold to donate at the Church of Adelis and take lessons from a priest to learn to read and write. Unfortunately, her brother died leaving behind a grieving fiancée. It left her as heiress to both the small family farm and the smithy. Her aging parents lamented that Angela had to take over.
She is effectively doomed to be a spinster once her parents died.
And everyone in Norban knew it.
Marissya pulled Angela into her embrace. "Oh ajiana," she said sincerely, her compassionate eyes fierce. "I'm so sorry for what you've suffered." Angela sobbed into the regal fellana's silken dress feeling ashamed to ruin something so expensive. Knowing she would never be able to repay Lady Marissya after all the fellana did for her―giving her hope and a reason to live chief among them―offended her and caused her grief-stricken tears to intensify. Marissya spoke reassuringly to Angela in Feyan. Her soothing weaves lessening the emotional impact.
Cyr wanted to punch something. His hand had slipped from Angela's shoulder.
«Control yourself Fey.» Marissya commanded in contrast to her maternal care. «She needs her shei'tan.»
Angela slumped and was carefully replaced on her pillow. Angela shuddered her teeth chattering.
Cyr immediately wove a ruby robe for his shei'tani and frowned along with Marissya just as Ravel, Sian, Torel, Bel, Rain and Ellysetta entered.
Marrisya winced attracting attention. "Sieks'ta," she apologized, quickly sitting down. "Angela has extensive exhaustion and wounds." Now Marissya is exhausted.
"Ravel," she said suddenly. "I want you to try a Fire weave with Cyr's Air weave together."
Wasting no time, Ravel approached one side of Angela's bed while Cyr did the other. The tension palpable between them. Together, they did as Marissya commanded. Angela shied from Cyr's Air weave and her hand gripped Ravel's arm with surprising strength despite her wasted body. She sighed in contentment, hoisting herself up subconsciously and clutched Ravel's arms. Angela snuggled closer to Ravel, making the Fire master blush and glance at Cyr. Sian and Torel flanked the young shei'tan immediately.
Cyr had no Fire talent. His magic in rank order is Air, Earth and Spirit. Jealousy coursed in his veins. He forced himself to look at Angela with Marissya's words echoing in his mind.
"She's too malnourished to maintain her own body heat." Bel remarked.
"Aiyah." Rain agreed. "Perhaps...Ravel, I want you to guide my Tairen's flame into wrist guards Cyr can create." Tairen fire is eternal once placed into a canister*. Rain wanted to soothe Cyr's bitterness toward Ravel and quickly. He could not afford another complication―especially within his ranks. Besides, he hoped it would endear Angela to Cyr.
Cyr created two large wrist guards for her slender arms. They were intricate with Gentle Dawn and Sunset roses inscribed in them. He passed them to Ravel without looking at him. The roses would act as the pulse point for the Tairen flame.
Ravel carefully extricated himself and replaced her on the bed despite her shivering protest. Ellysetta wove soothing shei'dahlin weaves to placate her.
Rain led Ravel outside the healing tent and Changed into his Tairen form. The Fire master guided the magnificent flaming tunnel into Angela's wrist guards. The roses glowed. Throughout the metallic and leather wrist guards contained the flame. Ravel carefully supported it with a warm Air weave as both Fey returned to the tent.
Angela struggled against exhaustion.
"Las ajiana." Marissya said caressing Angela's face. "You're safe. I promise." Angela settled in a strange place between lucidity and exhaustion.
"What happened?" Ellysetta asked as Rain and Ravel reentered the tent. Marissya succinctly explained everything confirming with Sian, Torel and Ravel. Cyr remained silent and attached the Tairen-flamed wrist guards to his shei'tani's slender wrists.
Ellysetta carefully took Angela's other hand as Angela's eyes fluttered opened after being suffused with warmth. Something pulled her consciousness as she stared at verdant green eyes of the commoner-turned-Feyreisa. She's gorgeous. Angela thought awed and dismayed.
"What is your name?" Ellysetta asked kindly.
"A―Angela Felicity Michaelson, my lady." Angela answered nervously.
"Hello Angela," Ellysetta said kindly skimming Angela's mind who shuddered slightly. Her filled with fear. Ellysetta's eyebrows raised. "You sense me like I sense you." she said thoughtfully. She regarded Angela with intense interest. "Do I know you from somewhere?"
Angela gulped. "No ma'am." Ellysetta's eyes softened. She could feel the disorientation and physiological ordeal Angela's body undertook to survive from the woman her age. Ellysetta knew exactly how disoriented she felt to be surrounded by the glorious Fey. She changed herself in Spirit making Angela gasp as she returned to her mortal form. "How about now?" Angela frowned. "Are you Master Baristani's daughter? The woodcarver?" Recalling where she heard Ellysetta's surname.
"Aiyah." Ellysetta confirmed, returning to her true form. "How do you know my father?"
Angela thought. "I remember seeing him in Maestra Knowles' shop once looking for something for his daughters for All Souls' Day." She gave a little shrug. He had spoken of his daughters asking what Angela thought would look well on his red-haired daughter in particular.
Ellysetta nodded. "Would you mind showing me this magic from your memories? Or Marissya? I know it's hard for you to talk." She said kindly. "I don't want you to strain yourself."
Angela felt Marissya's weariness. She frowned at the sensation. Straightening, the young woman sat up with Cyr's help, making her stiffen; but she returned Ellysetta's gaze. "I don't want to overtax Lady Marissya." Angela said quietly. "She's helped me enough already."
"Just close your eyes and think of everything that happened you'd like to share." Ellysetta encouraged. Ellysetta projected her consciousness to Angela, causing her to still. The Tairen fire settled her.
She remembered. Her eyes clamping shut. Little white lines of strain appearing around her mouth.
Flashes of unnatural crows and the red and black magic she glimpsed running away from her home. The lyrant screams froze her blood and stiffened her bones. The world fell apart in a blur of trees and moonlight. She ran to the river. Her brother said water dulled the scent for many predators' prey.
A priest offering her the vial of anti-demon holy water after asking for something. But he felt...like he carried a darkness located toward his heart. They were small pieces. What was it? Some people she met had the same chill near their hearts. Some with more intensity that others.
Stones thrown at her from former friends and neighbors. Living in the Greatwood Forest after realizing her entire home was pillaged and unable to return to reclaim her birthright. What would be the point? She is already spinster-labeled despite being 24 and some months. Angela had too much baggage for anyone else to consider. Besides, she was certain she would be mistreated by any potential suitor since she did not have her family's protection.
An Eldan woman giving her a loaf of bread. She felt wrong to Angela. Why? Most Norbans gave her the creeps. Was there a conspiracy?
Losing the farm and the smithy hurt; but she felt oddly free of it. She was looking forward to find the Fey first then maybe return to become an apprentice seamstress again like she wanted. If she survived.
Several of her neighbors felt...like a subtle stirring of darkness edging them to harm her. "Petchka!" among other lewd chants. She knew she had to always run from men.
Spying Sian and Torel after listening to the Norban townsfolk whisper, gossip and criticize. She realized she could find them later. They had spoken to Ol' Man Brind Paldwyn. Her mother often gave him what little extra she could through Wilmus Able for his small house past Carthage Road. Perhaps he would loan her a blanket for the night? The demons got closer. She felt the Dark magic surround her and it drove her mad with fright and self-preservation. She would leave with or without seeing Sian and Torel tonight. She was always hungry.
Some instinct guided her to the very clearing where Ravel was injured.
Angela opened her eyes only to see fierce, opalescent and swirling Tairen eyes. Angela felt like a trapped doe in front of a predator. Cyr's presence felt comforting. He squeezed her shoulder gently. Alarmed at how slender and frail she is.
"Las shei'tani." He murmured. Her heart slowly returned to its normal beat, surprising her.
"Those rultsharts!" Ellysetta cried fiercely. Removing her hand she said something quickly in Feyan to everyone present.
"Ajiana," Marissya soothed. "We will let you rest after a moment. There's something Ravel, Sian and Torel would like to do." She gave Cyr a stern look.
Angela was weakening but she felt calmer as she turned to the three warriors she escaped death with She missed the shei'dahlin's chiding look toward her shei'tan.
"Angela Felicity Michaelson," Ravel vel Arras said solemnly, taking her hand and kneeling. She gasped. "Of my own free will, I pledge my life and my soul to your protection. None shall harm you while in life or death I have power to prevent it." He withdrew a black fey'cha and slashed his palm and fisted his hand, he let six drops of blood splash on the dagger. "This I do swear with my own life's blood, in Fire and Air and Water, in Spirit and Azrahn. I do ask this pledge to be witnessed." He placed the dagger in her hand. Angela's fingers reflexively curled around it.
"Witnessed," Bel said equally solemn.
"Witnessed," Sian said softly.
"Witnessed," echoed Torel.
"Witnessed," Rain, Ellysetta, Cyr and Marissya said.
Angela stared at Ravel. "It is my right," he answered her unspoken questions. "You've saved my life more than once, kem'falla."
Sian vel Sendaris and Torel vel Carlian wasted no time mimicking Ravel's actions and as one they slit their palms and proceeded to hand her their fey'chas. Her other hand closed around their hilts.
"If your blood drops on any of our blades we will know where you are instantly and come to your aid." Ravel explained. "No matter what we are doing or where you are."
"I―thank you," Angela said sincerely, blushing. She wanted to deny their oaths but knew she could not. "I hope to be worthy of such an honor." She lowered her gaze.
The wrist guards began to pulsate quickly and it was then she realized they were on her. "These are gorgeous." she murmured marveling at the roses and the craftsmanship. Cyr straightened, his chest puffing slightly.
She frowned as the Tairen fire became more prominent in the Gentle Dawn roses. What does this mean?
Marissya checked her wrists. "Incredible Cyr," she complimented. "The Gentle Dawn roses signify her vitals, aiyah?"
"Aiyah, kem'falla." Cyr explained and Angela turned to look up at him confused. "The Sunset ones are an emergency power source." «I hope she never has to use it.»
"Angela needs her rest." Marissya announced. And so do I. «Don't overwhelm her just yet with the shei'tanista bonding, Cyr. I would rather explain it to her gently. She will need another woman.»
«Doreh shabeila de, kem'falla.» Cyr answered. So shall it be, my lady.
Everyone demurred to Angela who could only nod, surprised and alone with her shei'tan.
I am almost positive I made up the "containing Tairen fire in a canister." Please correct me if I am mistaken. Let me know if there are any typos or misspellings of the Feyan or English languages. I want my FanFiction to be the best I can make it. ~JHS.
