Autumngrove #2

in which Ava is impaled

For Chapter 1 click here

This map is a work in progress but presently outlines the Otherworld

Have you seen the Autumn Lord,
     Upon a cool crisp night?
And watched him walk within his grove,
     Beneath the pale moon's light?
The elfin prince, he never sleeps,
     Til dawn is full and bright.

---

It was the sweetest apple I had ever tasted, more like honey than fruit. Its juices dribbled down my chin, and I savored the flavors bursting on my tongue. Such a thing would have been splendid in a turnover.

Tingles began at the tips of my toes and worked its way upwards. I felt as if I had just drunk a few mugs of fresh cider, and my eyes felt bright and alert.

And though my stomach warmed with pleasure, a shiver ran down my spine. The air chilled around me, and goosebumps rose on my skin. The shadows surrounding me deepened in darkness, and I looked up at the moon. A passing cloud obscured it.

Suddenly, claw-tipped fingers dug into my shoulder and hurled me around. The apple tumbled from my hand, and I raised my sword, turning to face my foe.

Moon light glinted off Papa’s blade as I pointed it at the man’s chest. His robes were violet in appearance, and its silk shimmered with golden leaf patterns. The man’s sleeves were wide before tapering to his elbows, where scaled black gauntlets rested on his forearms.

What must such garments cost? They were akin to what I had heard of in the far east, past deserts and grasslands and mountains, where silk and teas and jade were traded. And what use were his gauntlets in such raiment? They looked as if they’d never seen combat.

My eyes finally lifted past his high collar and up to his face. The first thing I noticed was his mask, the second, his long and pointed ears.

Not a man, then, but a fairy.

His face was pleasant in appearance, I supposed. He possessed no wrinkles, and he had no facial hair on his chin or upper lip. My eyes snagged on the elaborate silver mask that seemed plastered over his left eye and high cheekbone.

Then my eyes lifted to his hair. It was like a fine brush dipped in ink, and it was partially pulled back while the rest spilled behind his shoulders like waves of polished obsidian.

He even smelled like chrysanthemums. My aroma was more like fresh tilled earth that often caked my nails as I worked in the fields. Perhaps this fairy was an alchemist of sorts and used this garden for elixirs.

Surely, this fairy was a fine specimen, with his sharp angles and skin that shined in the right places, but how could he do anything in such extravagant clothes? He looked as if he had never worked a day of labor in his life, and he most certainly had never had a case of fleas or lice. Perhaps parasites didn’t exist here.

Our eyes locked as I pursed my lips, and his expression appeared to be that of anger. A dark circle clung underneath his right eye, and I wondered what fears must a fairy have to lose sleep over.

My eyes darted to his shapely lips as he opened his mouth. Then, he proceeded to speak in a language I did not know. His voice raised and dipped in sharp waves, and it sounded nothing like the guttural notes of my own tongue. Were his canines longer than normal?

He lifted his gloved hand, and before he could do anything else, I pressed the tip of the sword against his chest. The silk tore, and his lips clamped shut. He only raised his eyebrows and stared down at me, as if daring me to run him through.

This creature harnessed magic, and I had no idea if he planned to cast some sort of spell over me. Aunt Dahlia’s stories had always warned caution of giving fairies information, but I needed to find a way back home. I needed to get back to Papa, and this fairy didn’t seem keen on killing me yet.

I almost laughed at my own thoughts. Here I was, standing in a magical garden, pointing a blade at a fairy. Though I was stronger than other young women my age and was the second best axe thrower in town, I doubt I could compete with an otherworldly being, even one so dainty looking as this one.

My eyes met his again as I asked, “Who are you? Where am I?”

His irritation dissolved, and he cocked his head to the side, surveying me again. His calculating eye lingered on on the top of my head and my damp kerchief. Silence stretched, and the wind blew, and the leaves rustled against the night sky. Was he trying to read my thoughts? Was that a thing fairies did?

This time, when he opened his mouth, he said, “I am the elf lord Eleden, and I rule over the Autumn Court. You stand in The Garden of Twilight, my land’s most prized and protected grove.”

It took me a moment to process his words. There was an accent I couldn’t place, and his tone was more tense than cordial. His canines were indeed longer than average, and they gleamed like pearls in the moonlight.

Then Nevinne’s words rang in my ears: Soon, you will both be taken to my master, and your offspring shall suffer for your alliance with The Autumn Lord.

Papa had allied himself with the fairy in front of me, and he had used some magical water to bring me here. There was some plot afoot then, and my father was caught in the crossfire.

“You do not understand me,” Eleden said. He extended his hand and offered, “Intellegisne verba mea?”

My brows furrowed, and I replied, “I understand you fine. I apologize for taking your apple, but I believe I’m dreaming, and it’s been an age since I’ve tasted something so sweet, and apples have always been a weakness of mine.” My eyes raked over him again before I mumbled, “Although I do not know why my mind would conjure you.”

I was rambling like a child caught with her hand in a jar of honey.

He didn’t respond, so I cleared my throat and continued with, “My father made a bargain with you. Is that why I’m here? What deal has been struck?” Using my free hand, I tapped my chest and offered, “I will gladly take it in his place.”

“I’ve struck bargains with several fathers,” he said thoughtfully, “but none have involved daughters who walk through magical barriers as if they are nothing and survive eating apples of immortality.”

Magical barriers? Immortality? The dream was growing odder by the minute.

Before I could blink, he had already moved. It was as if he had slid like a shadow, and too late, he had a hold of my wrist, and my sword was thrown from my hand. His grip was strong, and I couldn’t budge, and now, my best weapon lay shining in the dew-wet grass.

“Tell me,” he said, “were you sent by one of the courts to beguile and steal from me?” His eye hardened, and he forced out, “Your naive allure will not work on me. Tell me, whom do you serve?”

Already, this Eleden was getting under my skin like a bad itch, and his flowery scent flooded my senses. He must have some sort of enchantment on him, to make me want to lean in, and I fought against it. I moved my right hand to my belt and hatchet.

“Beguile you? Allure you??” I said, glaring at him. “Do I look like someone with such traits?”

Aunt Dahlia spoke of my oak-like sturdiness, and that my speckled skin was lovely as a sparrow’s egg, but I knew the men my age often preferred the willow-like and unblemished figures of Irma and Dorothea. According to Old Oswald, the best thing I had going for me was my good birthing hips.

Papa had socked him quite nicely.

Eleden’s hand caught hold of my chin, and the tips of his cold gloves pressed into my cheeks. There it was again- the feeling of claw tipped fingers pressing through leather.

I blinked as he leaned closer and held my face in place. His grip wasn’t painful, but I was rooted to the spot. I was more surprised than angry. The action reminded me of mothers tricking their toddlers out of angry fits by utilizing confusion.

His right eye gazed into mine, and for a moment, it was as if I was staring into a starlit sky of indigo and violet. I saw his pupil widen, and he leaned forward until we were nose to nose. It was if I stared into the nightly heavens.

His lips silently formed words, and his warm breath tickled my lips and tasted like cinnamon and honey. Fear shot through me like a lightning bolt as pressure formed in my chest. The static feeling was back, and without thinking, I raised my hatchet out of its belt loop.

A crack resounded as the butt of my axe slammed against Eleden’s silver mask. It splintered and fell like glittering stars as he stumbled to the side, clutching his face.

I had never hit a person with a weapon before, and my arm throbbed from the impact. Papa’s sword lay a foot from Eleden, and I dashed over to it.

I picked up the weapon and turned towards Eleden, whose hand still covered his left eye. If I were to strike, it would be now. Already, my heart beat furiously in my chest, and sweat beaded my hands and forehead. My pack suddenly felt too heavy on my shoulders.

Yet I stood there, frozen, staring at the fairy. I had never killed anything but chickens and fish. Even Papa slaughtered the pigs and goats. But to kill a living being capable of speech, with fingers and toes and eyes that peered into one’s soul? He wasn’t a man, but I couldn’t just kill him, even if it was a dream.

“You are stronger than you appear,” he grumbled. Still clutching his face, he smoothed out his robe with his free hand and added, “You took advantage of my blind spot. It’s commendable, but I would advise you not to attack me again.”

With a huff, I lowered my sword and scolded, “I won’t do it again, but I’m not sorry for hitting you. A Lord should know better than to invade a woman’s personal space uninvited. And just so you know, I am not a beguiler, I have no allure, and I have not been sent by any court.” I said the last sentence with hard consonants. “This is simply a bad dream, sent to me by some malevolent spirit.”

He didn’t reply, only looked me up and down. Recognition sparkled in his eye.

I slid my hatchet back in it’s loop and turned, saying, “I have apologized and defended my position, but since you don’t seem open to apologizing, I’ll hasten to find my cat and wake up from this nightmare.” There was a path that ran like a river through the garden, and in the distance, it disappeared into an aspen forest. It I looked east there was a mountain range, it’s jagged tops caked with white, and I turned to glance at the manor.

Where could I go? I was in a land unknown to me, and there was no chasm for me to leap into and wake up from. I could ask Eleden, but he and his apples could rot for all I cared. Perhaps I could climb the manor’s spire and jump off? That would surely wake me up.

“Aveline,” he said. His voice wasn’t pleading, but commanding.

My eyes narrowed as Eleden looked down at me. He didn’t seem the least bit angry that I had hit him upside the head or lectured him, and I was annoyed that he knew my name.

“Your eyes are new trees and budding flowers,” he said. “Of fawns, and flora, and honey. You have the eyes of Charles the Champion, and you share in his stubbornness and strength.”

I couldn’t tell if it was a compliment or an insult. Was this an attempt to charm?

“Look,” I said, “I don’t know what you mean by flowers and fawns, but my father’s facing some ancient hag named Nevinne and he is by himself. This dream has conveniently forgotten about my cousin and my aunt, and I would like very much to wake soon.”

He finally dropped his hand to his side. The side of his face was completely hidden in shadow now, and I couldn’t make sense of it. No light penetrated his skin, and the darkness blended with his hair.

His eye trailed a floating blue orb that hovered between us. Then, he said, “If Nevinne has found him, then he sent you here for protection. No doubt he is drawing her away as we speak, likely from the rest of your kin. However, it is unfortunate that you were transported so close to my golden apples.”

That sounded like Papa, alright. He didn’t have many fears in life, I knew, save one- that I’d get sick or injured and die.

This was more certainly a dream, yes, but the logic of it was fading quickly. I’ve had vivid thoughts before, like the pixies I used to play with in the forest, or the time I petted a worpentinger in a hidden glen, or the time Rori rescued me from a Tatzelwurm. Now, my imaginations poured out only in my sleep.

“Alright dream, that’s enough,” I called out. Spinning around, I shouted, “Let me wake up now!”

I was only answered by the wind and the sound of a bat flying up above.

Eleden snorted. “Your acting is no good. Stop this naivety.”

I rolled my eyes. I had been caught up in dreams before, and there were other ways in waking.

I offered up the sword to Eleden. “Here, since there is no abyss, run me through with this, please. It will speed things up. I got a good whack at your head, after all. You should return the favor.”

For a moment, he didn’t speak, and I feared he’d deny my request, and I’d somehow have to strike myself with my hatchet. It didn’t sound very practical. Usually, there was a chasm around, or a pool to drown in, or a monster that chased me. Those nightmares were particularly abundant during certain times of the month.

“If it’s a request you want, then let us make a deal,” he said. “Promise to stay with me in my court and answer my questions, and I will then cut you with this blade.”

“Too vague,” I replied, shaking my head. “Your cut could be shallow, and I’d be stuck here.” I patted my stomach and said, “I want you to run me through first, a good blow to my trunk, and then I’ll promise to stay in your court and answer your questions, at least until your deal’s done with my father. Heck, I’ll even garden for you, as it’s clear you’ve let those weeds run amuck.” I pointed at the nettles growing a few feet away. I had often gotten too close to those plants in thickets along the creek, and I had discovered I was immune to its stinging effects.

“Then it’s a deal?” He asked, testing the waters. “You will stay with me until your father fulfills his end of my bargain?”

“Only if you promise me you’re not a necromancer,” I replied, crossing my arms. It would be my luck to have him conjure me back up to complete this outlandish tale.

He stepped back and tightened his shoulders. “Do you take me for some dark wizard? Such a thing is for hagravens and followers of the old ways.”

I arched my brow and said, “And yet you do not say you’re not one. It’s highly suspect, my lord.”

That certainly offended him. He placed his left hand over his heart and said, “I vow upon my life that I am no such thing, and never will I try it!”

Finally, I had got gotten under her skin. Smiling, I extended my hand and replied, “Alright then, that’s good enough for me.”

Eleden stepped forward and grabbed hold of my hand. When he didn’t do anything, I frowned and attempted to shake it. It only had him furrowing his brow in confusion.

Ah, well. Perhaps elves didn’t shake hands.

I pulled back, readying myself for the sword. Soon I’d wake up, and Aunt Dahlia would be making mead, and Papa would be whittling away, and Rori would be outside, singing his rhymes while playing his lute.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Eleden asked. “There’s still time to turn back. The magic hasn’t fully set yet.”

“You’re as cowardly as my cat,” I teased, popping my knuckles. “If you’re a proper lord, then you’ll honor your word. Or are you as delicate as you look, elf lord Eleden?”

My heart was beating wildly again, and the fairy stared at my smirk. Static buzzed along my skin, and for a moment, I thought as if I may be having a heart attack. Before I could change my mind, Eleden reared back, grit his teeth, and then drove father’s sword into my gut.