Dark Fey Collection: The Complete Series

Excerpt from Dark Fey Collection

Darkness lay thick and unyielding like a heavy mantle that smothered from every direction at once. Pungent and prodding, the intense murk was sooty with the condensing smoke of a thousand fires, which was the only source of light permitted in the, otherwise, bleak city. As it curled in the streets and avenues, turning frequented ways into misleading paths that made even those most familiar with them turn about more than once to reorient themselves, layers of damp mist leached downward from the leaden sky. Out of the dimness that poured from the ashen buildings and sank from above, voices of discontent and misery echoed among the shadows. Unmistakable cries of torment serrated the dense atmosphere; yet, from those same environs, delirious laughter also careened into the brooding night. The opposing sounds confused the ear and twisted the heart with uncertainty and dread.

The city was rank with a foul odor that was sour and reeked of sulfur. It was the city's chief source of kindling that burned in grates and braziers. Drawing close to these fires in order to escape the permeating cold and extract some meager warmth or to find any sense of direction also meant breathing in the malodorous stench that twisted the stomach until it could be born no longer and chased the one seeking momentary solace back into the shadows. There was little warmth in the darkness. An unshakable, seeking chill melted through clothes regardless of the protection of layers. In the ominous gloom, buildings seemed to press together to stay warm, their misaligned, shoddy workmanship betraying their untended state. Some leaned precariously, some were half fallen over in tatters, some were little more than a collapsed hovel and on every street raucous taverns and brothels tainted the air with lascivious noise and drunken abandon.

Through the curling shadows and dusky fog, a willowy, silent figure moved. Draped in an obscuring confusion of shadow that it seemed to carry along with it, the figure stole silently down the street. Muffled by the thick smog that twisted in the air, the form made no sound whatsoever, but drifted past the raucous taverns and foul brothels like a ghost brazenly wandering through the haze. None who passed this cloaked figure took notice of it. No heads turned as it paused at the corner beneath a spluttering lamp of burning, sulfurous, gas. Not a single bystander gazed in its direction as it moved silently down the narrow street towards the edge of town and when it turned the corner, disappearing into the blackness like a shadow melting into graying twilight, no trace of its passage was left behind.

Turning the darkened corner, the ebon shadow paused, the silhouette of its garments contracting as if the figure were doubling over and a muffled sound, like that of despair, slipped outward into the murk. Silence greeted this hushed cry, but as if in echo, a child's wail pierced the heavy gloom. The keening sound was not close by, yet it pealed through the dismal atmosphere like the sharp clangor of a tolling bell and all who heard it shrank from the sound, stifling the evidence of such misery in whatever escape lay close at hand. The amber liquid contained within a bottle, the glittering secret injected directly into veins, or the fleeting, wanton embrace that left a deeper yearning than what it satisfied were momentary releases from the anguish of everyday life.

As the half seen figure stood motionless, the piteous sounds of the city gathered around it like moths drawn to an open flame demanding to be noticed in spite of the listener's desire for deafness. Reality in the Uunglarda was caustic as acid and burned just as deeply and it compelled the figure to move hastily onward.

* * *

Ayla stood silently, her thoughts tumbling in a thousand directions as she gazed down upon Mardan who was still sleeping in the Nursing Ward. Beside her, his own thoughts predictably restive, Gairynzvl did not speak, but waited as patiently as his agitation would allow while she attempted to reach out to their unconscious friend. Tears threatened to prevail over her chaotic emotions as she stretched forth her senses into the peaceful void of Mardan's essence. She anticipated touching nothingness, darkness, and quietness, but her acute senses were met with the gentlest of thoughts. Gasping aloud, she opened her eyes to stare down at him with exhilaration thrilling through her, waiting expectantly for him to pierce her with his brilliant cerulean gaze, but he remained asleep.

Gairynzvl turned to watch more attentively, his unspoken questions about their friend answered by a flurry of excited emotion and confusion that poured from Ayla unchecked. Her emotions fluttered briefly, but she refocused her attention and tried again when one of the Healers drew closer. He watched curiously with a penetrating viridian gaze as she closed her eyes and reached to touch Mardan upon his chest so she could feel the strong, rhythmic beat of his heart and sense the pulse of his essence. Where she could perceive only frightful stillness the day before, she could now hear the soft notions of his dreams. Where terrifying weakness had been present only hours before, she could now feel the strengthening rush of life-force returning within him and she could not contain her elation at the discovery. Drawing back from the light touch she had extended, she muffled a prodigious sob and burst into tears.

“What do you sense, Ayla?” Gairynzvl asked softly, moving to draw her into an embrace even as the Healer stepped forward to check Mardan's condition for himself. She shook her head, delighted, although observably confounded.

“He remains adrift, but I feel strength returning to him. I can hear his thoughts again, though they are quiet.” Gazing down on him, she smiled amidst her tears. “He is dreaming.”

Gairynzvl turned to look down at Mardan with an unexpected feeling of relief. Although it had been only days since the motionless Celebrant had tried to kill him with the spell of Inflicted Pain, he could not deny that he was pleased he would survive. He watched him curiously, wondering about the depth of his sleep and how it had restored him, but his attention was diverted by the noise of Ayla's piercing confusion and he turned to look down at her with an unreadable expression. “Why, then, are you perplexed?” he asked bluntly, a familiar rush of agitation with her perpetually swirling emotions replacing the brief moment of thankfulness he experienced at her unexpected discovery. Twisting away from him, she rebuked him sharply.

“Stop reading me without my permission!” Her caustic tone made him flinch and step back. Their agitated tones caused the Healer to pause and look up at them uncertainly, although he did not withdraw, and Gairynzvl shook his head.

“I am not reading you Ayla. Anyone can see that you are confused, but you cannot blame me for hearing your thoughts.” Before he could complete his sentence, she reproached him again.

“You are always reading them!” she accused vehemently, but her anger only served to annoy him further. Arching his wings aggressively, he stepped forward confrontationally. Staring down into her upturned face with a potent combination of indignation and unanticipated desire he spoke slowly in a low and measured tone as he explained what she already knew perfectly well.