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Across the Veil (NornSavant x Strangefate)

NornSavant

Planetoid
Joined
Jan 30, 2014
Prologue

Concerning the Elland Missive...

50 years ago a mass of portals opened over England, specifically over Sheffield, Mansfield, Nottingham and Derby. And through those portals poured the Fae hosts. Creatures of aspects both beautiful beyond belief and hideous beyond measure. The armed response was treated like sport. The Huntsmen's steeds could exceed the air-force in every way. No weapon was capable of harming the invaders. On the land goblins, redcaps and bogarts tore ground forces apart while the Bean Si had units killing each other and then themselves. The last ditch nuclear detonation meant to kill them at the heart of the portals simply filled the night sky with the image of a great rearing horse of fire.

Across the world other portals had opened and other parts of the globe labored under their own invasions, America fought elementals, South America hosted bands of returned ancients, dragons and beasts roamed over Asia and Europe. Hope seemed lost, humanity went to ground.

Lightning raids, guerrilla warfare and hidden bases helped humans stay alive and even reclaim some territory in the next several years but it has become an agonizing stalemate.

Recently though, in a clear indication of internal strife, some of the Fae tribes violently turned on each other. One of these tribes, designated tribe Elland for its location near Halifax, contacted Quiet Company Freeman 820 a suicide scout unit far forward of the human territories. The Quiet Company linguist reported that the message was a request for an envoy, an emissary, to be sent to parley for possible benefits to the surrounding humans. Whats more, the message was in English. There has never been a report of a Fae speaking English or any other terrestrial language since the invasion.

This is to confirm that such an individual has be located and rushed to the Freeman base. All indications are that Quiet Company Freeman 820 will meet the established time window. Information on the volunteer to follow...



Chapter 1 – The Feast on the Lawn


“What are we about, Boss?” hissed the scout, her face lined with dirt and grime, eyes lost in the dim predawn shadows, lurking in her hard features. Crouching beside her, the bearded man moved his jaw but nothing passed between them. The scout, known only as Forward Five, breathed out slowly a sound of annoyance just for him as they sat motionless in the shallow hole just big enough for the two of them.

Around them, the woods began to lighten, the cloudy gray sunrise washing away the ink of night, making the trees bouquets of ashy reds and gold, the floor of the wood a wet patchwork quilt.

“Is it true? We just giving them away now?” breathed Five. Her eyes tracking across the pale tree boles, seeking in the motionless brush between.

“Shut.” whispered the Boss tracking his rheumy eyes to their right flank, careful, so carefully looking across the leaves.

“They don’t even have to hunt us anymore, we just deliver 'em now. Is that it?” She hummed and Boss clicked his teeth indicating the conversation was over. A muscle jumped in her jaw, anger, boiling. Beyond their hole nothing moved, in their hole all was quiet, so quiet.

They could both hear the approach, like a squirrel, some rodent, a trundling rummage in the leaves and then nothing, another and then silence. Five's knife was up out of the mud now, hovering hidden between the sodden mess of the last four hours and her knees, ready to dart like a snake.

The quiet voice sounded like a breeze miles away. “Arrival Boss.”

The messenger splayed out under the leaf cover, a net spiked to sit twelve inches off the forest floor. Twelve hours of leaf fall and it became the forest floor and made a one foot crawlspace for the scouts to their positions, movement invisible, serpents in their own garden. The bearded man gave a tiny nod.

“Right, switch on three, one, two...” and on three the Boss leaned back and slid out of the hole as the new scout slithered in where he had been while Five shrank slightly to give some space. The whole thing was like a wind in the willows and then Boss was gone, silently shifting off toward the base while his relief was squeezed in beside Five.

After a few quiet moments of scanning the forest she gave him a knock against his knee asking if he wanted a hand job in field-speak, he gave her a deliberate knock back asking if she wanted one. A few more moments went by, tense and hard between them before they relaxed a little. Each knew the other to be human now, a Fae-touched would have gone for it, they always do. Five lowered her blade back into the mud, putting the snake to bed for a little while longer.

------​

Boss slid into the trench and crouched down onto the wooden board marking the beginning of the base, it followed the excavated ravine in a downward slope as the leaf-cover hung above letting in only pale strands of light. Within three steps he was met by Sketch, a thin weed of a boy with a dusting of a wiry dark chin beard. He spoke to the boss softly putting an arm around his shoulders, they walked as one.

“Shes here boss, preliminary says she fits. Shes in medical right now getting prepped, we are on schedule but only just.” he said and Boss stopped at the steps the led down. Only two step but it was the difference between duck walking and walking a dark hall like a human.

“Are we giving her away Sketch?” Boss asked turning hard blue eyes on the thin young man who picked out his meaning right away. He shook his head and responded.

“They hunt us at will, they can take people whenever they want? They don't need to ask for them. They don’t need deliveries. This is something different. I don't know what but something new is going on out there as we are sitting at the end of the spear Boss.”

The bearded man thought for a moment more with the younger man's arm around his shoulders still. The he nodded settling his face into a mask of resolve and they went down the steps making for medical and history.

The medical facility was a series of stacked crates and boxes forming a tight labyrinth to a back examination area. It worked well that the scouts could just pull supplies out of the walls and even better that they could be packed with dangerous items like knives and swords for later use if need be. The Fae just shrugged off more modern weapons but they respected blades. In some way they were willing to be killed by a dagger but couldn’t imagine dying to a bullet. Another mystery of the Fae, you can only kill them if they agree to it.

Medical was the deepest part of their winding trench and the scouts also called it the last stand. When Boss and Sketch maneuvered through the tight turns of boxes they were alone. All the other scouts were out, they knew what was happening, they were doing their jobs. But it made the base feel like a grave.

Sketch flipped a page quietly and stopped. Boss stopped as well asking with silence. Sketch handed him the paper with the volunteer's vitals. Boss looked at it before turning back to the young man, fury clenching at his bearded face.

“Her mother? They chose someone with a family? Jesus Christ Sketch! Jesus!” He said spitting the words. Sketch stepped close, it was an ominous gesture. Theirs was a silent base, no noise, no outcries. Anyone who tried had to be shut down. Even the Boss.

“This has to go this way Boss, we are out of time.” Sketch whispered. “Don't drop this ball.”

“This is wrong.” Boss said low, like a challenge.

“Tell that to Forward Three.” Sketch said invoking the first scout to give his life to keep the base secret. The first scout to die horribly on his watch.

Three long tense heartbeats passed between them and then Boss whipped around like a jackknife making for the examination room. Sketch followed. It had been too much, but this had to happen. He told himself again, it had to happen.

The curtain wall was up, a Winnie the Pooh blanket wherein Pooh was fooling about with a jar, Piglett looked concerned and Rabbit seemed to be strolling without a care in the world. Boss sank onto the stool on this side of the curtain and consulted the paper in his rough hands.

A moment later the curtain slid back and Forward Eight stepped back to allow the volunteer some room. Eight was a mass of muscle and he was also their primary doctor.

“Shes good Boss, all measurements in line, no yellow.” He mumbled in a sharp Kiwi accent. Boss nodded picking her out of the dimness. Still buttoning her fatigues, what did Eight do? Some sort of mach speed workup no doubt. Medical molestation for the good of mankind. This kid won't be catching any breaks today.

She had a tight hairdo, not a decent buzz, what was that? A Pixie cut? Boss sent another silent prayer aloft, God almighty don't let me die to irony. Her eyes were pools of shadow and the togs hung on her like sacks. She was a bit on the skinny side. She had already been told about the silence factor. He motioned and Eight stepped forward ushering her right up to Boss, moving her only inches away, their foreheads nearly touching. It must have seemed so rough. He once again wished in his hardened heart that he could be kind to someone, just once. But no breaks today.

“Foster? Violet Foster? That you?”
 
Afraid. The entire trip that’s all she'd felt. Ever since she’d left Halifax Bend really, fear had been her one constant companion. She knew people died out behind the suicide lines all the time. Throughout her whole life, she’d seen the disfiguring injuries and horrible traumas suffered by scouts while working in the hospices. And those were the lucky ones, the ones who got out and were in good enough shape to move someplace further away from the front.

There was an immediacy to that fear though which kept her mind focused. It kept her from having to think about what came afterwards. Success being far scarier than anything in between. If she made it, she would be alone among them, these cruel fickle creatures that they’d all lived in fear of every waking moment of their lives. It was better not to think what happened then, what they would do to her. There wasn’t any point. Nobody knew. That information simply wasn’t available. People just did not came back when dealing the Fae. Violet suspected in her heart that would prove true for her as well.

Really, she had no idea why they’d picked her even. She was nobody special. She wasn’t a leader or a great soldier or a brilliant scientific mind. It seemed ridiculous to place so much on the shoulders of someone as inconsequential and ill-suited herself. It was like a dream or some novel, only in this story being the chosen one came with no special abilities or favor. It was just a death warrant. So why did you accept? She’d asked herself that a hundred times but had no real answer. How could she have said no? All those important people telling she was the only one that fit all the Elland’s demands and that the missive had to be followed to the letter. To send anyone else, no matter how better qualified, would risk offending them or worse. So it was her and only her and how could she say no to that when all around her people were risking more and sacrificing themselves for less every day?

Now here she was huddled in a trench with only dread all around. Backwards was no longer a possibility, forwards was the end of everything she’d ever known, and almost certainly her life. She had sat there numbly while the doctor checked her over like some beast of burden. He wasn’t at all like the medics she was used to back at Halifax Bend. He was an intimidating block of muscle and if she’d been inclined to make a fuss (which she wasn’t as a rule) one look at him likely would have changed her mind. She was still buttoning up her baggy outfit when he ushered her over to one he’d called Boss, feeling vaguely ridiculous. These were people who dealt with life and death danger everyday and she didn’t belong here. She knew that and they must know it too.

“Yes. I’m Violet. Foster, I mean. I’m ready for…” Violet paused and ran her tongue over her dry lips. Ready for what exactly? She didn’t feel ready for anything except maybe to crawl into the nearest hole and pray they forgot she even existed. “I’m ready.”
 
Boss shook his shaggy head. “No. No, here you are Forward Eleven. We are going to call you Ell or Ellie if you make a girl of it.” While he whispered, Sketch appeared from the dimness and laid his hand on Boss’ shoulder, tapping his fingers in a rhythm.

“In 80 seconds you will leave this base and be escorted through the dragon’s teeth to the road. I will make sure your…” He caught himself with a click of his teeth. “I will make sure everyone knows you were ready.” Sketch gripped his shoulder again and he rose quietly from the stool taking Violet’s arm, holding her close. He smelled of sap, damp leaves and controlled fear.

“I wish I could tell you that things were going to be okay but all I know is that this is all new. Nothing like it has ever happened before. I don’t know what you are going to find but I think if you bring to that what you brought here… well, you will be ready.”

Moments later two scouts, a wire thin woman with a scar that dragged at her right eye and a dark skinned man with a shaved head, appeared from behind Sketch who flattened to one side making room. The long knives in their strapped scabbards rested their well used hilts against the soldiers' chests. The Bald one had a sword as well, thick bladed and rounded to its point, a chopper, hanging at the belt. This was not going to be a flight of elegance. They reached out for Violet but Boss didn’t let go right away.

“You have anything you want to leave? Anything to send back?”
 
Violet nodded her understanding. Forward Eleven. Ell. Her eyes trailed over to her right as a thin boy probably no older than herself, if that, joined them or rather joined the one called Boss, tapping at his shoulder but otherwise ignoring her presence. Despite the quiet, there was an intensity to the whole room that had her nerves jangling, although she tried not to show it. It was entirely out of her hands. In a way it was out of theirs as well. There was no point in making it more difficult on them by acting as frightened as she felt.

“No, I…” She hadn’t brought much. She didn’t have much to bring. Just a few personal things and an old folded up photograph of her parents before she was born. She thought about sending that back to her mother or maybe something written down, something that sounding encouraging, a see you soon, everything will be fine. In the end though, she shook her head, glancing at the soldiers with the scars and well-worn blades. “No. I don’t guess so. I’m okay.”

It sounded hollow even to her but it was the best she could manage. Violet told herself she would simply do what they said out there and they would get her through. They did this sort of thing everyday. Except when they did it, they got to come back afterwards. She was going out there to stay. I don’t get to come back, she reflected, a cold empty feeling settling into her stomach as she finally let that thought linger. I have to stay. With them. Until…

Even that she didn’t know.
 
“Yeah you are.” Boss whispered and reached up to touch her shoulder letting go of her arm. The Scouts hustled her forward, one hand on her head to keep it low, hands on her arms keeping her upright and moving. Sketch reached out and touched her shoulder as they slid past him. It was a touch of reverence, a touch fit for a Madonna or a messiah.

As she approached the exit, the slit where the leaf-net had been rolled away and the raw silver light of the morning forest poured in, the scouts took her over almost entirely sweeping her forward and up, popping out of the narrow opening and thumping her boots back onto the bare ground. Without the leaf net it was just dirt and slick soil patches leading into the brown woods like a road with no yellow bricks.

Before them other scouts began to rise from the brush and bramble like ghosts, knife spirits of the wood, their faces smudged and marked with dirt, scars, an eye-patch. Each one reached out and touched her as she passed, a shoulder, a hip, her hair. Was this how they said goodbye, how they wished good luck?

Without time to return even a single gesture the edge of the wood devoured the trio like a malicious surf and in a moment they were in the deep gold, the shadowy world between the fire lit canopy and the dark domain of night-crawlers and mole crickets. The scouts guided her between the thick boles of trees grown wild and feral, hard skin gone to a rough hide, their roots gripping individual worlds of jasmine stems and bright swaths of wort, slimy fungus ledges spiraled around the great trunks, inviting the casual climber.

The sprinting minutes became a wolf pack's journey, a long loping run with the scouts quiet and deadly and Violet thumping through the brush and dodging wet limbs and roots. They ran crouched with swinging arms like jungle creatures, crossing her path back and forth, touching her arm to send her right or left. Did they run at night like this, mindless and driven by instincts, touches for words?

Just as the ache started to creep into Violet's legs they broke free of the deep gold, bursting from a bramble wall parted with a single stroke of the big sword, the strands snapping back like barbed wire set free. Across the gentle incline another line of woods marched toward them with every step, trees with white trunks like planted ivory. Ash? Poplars?

The hill sucked at Violets strength, vampiric, but Scar snagged her in an abrupt move like a martial arts throw hoisting her over a shoulder without missing a step. He thin shoulder dug into Violet like a knife but the pace kept up. She could feel the scout's breathing, controlled and even, disciplined like a machine. Blade led them now, running point. Violet could not see or hear him, but she knew he was there.

The white trees whipped past them, thin. So different from the savage bulk of the deeper woods. The ground cover was just soft green shoots, lily-like fronds and ferns. New growth eternally spring in the soil, peeking up through the drifts of soft red leaves.

She could feel the end coming, it was something about Scar's pace, her posture. She was getting lower, her steps becoming more defensive, more wary. In a moment the world spun to a stop, a jarring roller coaster moment and Violet was back on her feet while Scar knelt to one side still breathing deep and quiet. Blade stood at her other side taunt as a deer, eyes outward

The woods ended behind them and at their feet a field-stone wall demarcating a drop off of some three feet to an asphalt road. Directly across the road, a field of sunflowers stood at attention, the warm sun just tipping their upraised blooms. The nearest ones turned slowly, winding on their thick green stems to face across an ancient chain-link fence at the trio. The notice slowly spread to every flower on the front row and then back into the field as row after row of the legion silently turned their great dark single eyes toward them. The motion continued out across the fields into horrible, misty infinity.

The town squatted in its ruins to their left, houses tipped over, roofs laying shattered and spread out like a vase dropped amid walls untouched.

And there in the Y intersection of the road leading into town, a horse drawn carriage that might have come out of some story book. Its dark bulb of a coach perched amid the four tall spoked wheels. There was no driver apparent but a dark horse stood very still in the tracings. Tall coach whips were cocked beside where the coachman's seat must have been. It was unnaturally dark with a hint or iridescent blue about it, but the distance kept it indistinct.

Scar slowly rose and touched Violet's shoulder as did Blade. The touch of goodbye.
 
As they led her out of the trenches, Violet kept her head down, letting them propel her forward as the scouts of Quiet Company touched her gently in passing. There was a strange otherworldliness to it all that made her uneasy but also strangely thankful. This might very well be her final contact with other people, quite literally the last human touch she would ever feel. So in a way it was good they ushered her on so quickly or else she might have lost her poise altogether, and she did not want to cry in front of these people. She would at least let them think she was half as brave as them and deserving of their hopes.

The race into the forest was a blur of flurried motion. The only reason she didn’t immediately lose her way or footing was because the scouts were there to guide her every move. Within the first ten minutes she lost her sense of direction. Five minutes after that she couldn’t have found her way back to the outpost if she tried. Eventually Violet’s legs turned rubbery and her pace slowed, her chest hammering, feeling certain she would have to stop, she would just have to stop and rest, no matter what they wanted or expected. It was at that moment the one called Scar grabbed her mid-stride and tossed her over one shoulder like a sleepy child. Violet wasn’t certain whether she should be embarrassed or thankful. Mostly she was just content to catch her breath again.

The next thing she knew she was back on her feet and they were exiting the woods. For a moment there was something so still and peaceful about the abandoned town that it became beautiful even in its forgotten ruin. That was, at least, until she noticed the sunflowers, bending their great heads in their direction. Not a few twisting in the wind as she might have thought, or a trick of the light, but row after row in an unnatural choreography. Any beauty she might have admired was quickly smothered in that awful realization.

Violet started as her escorts touched her shoulder. She turned to see them stepping away, back towards the forest, and knew that they were leaving her now. At that moment her mask finally did break and the young woman’s fear was clearly visible on her pale face. She wanted to beg them to stay, to at least come with her until she arrived wherever she was to end up, although she knew that couldn’t happen. In truth she just wanted to go home. This was a mistake, she wanted to say, I’m sorry I deceived everyone. I can’t do this. It has to be someone else.

The time for that was long past though, if ever that would have worked at all. Violet suspected that ‘no’ probably never would have been an acceptable answer anyways. What were her wants compared to what might be achieved here if the Elland were pleased by their response? It could change everything. I have to be brave. I have to try.

Easier thought than done though. Her legs still burned from the arduous hike as she forced herself step by step to approach the carriage. It looked almost like an illustrated page from a children’s book of fairy tales. Of course such books weren’t really for children anymore. When all the dreadful and impossible things inside them were suddenly real they had lost all whimsy and ability to delight. So while the carriage might have been beautiful if seen as a painting long ago, in the here and now, right in front of her eyes, it filled her with a sinking dread. Violet knew without being told that she was expected to climb inside, to be whisked away to god knows where and what. Her hand reached tentatively for the handle, wincing as her fingers touched the thing, as if she expected a painful shock.

Please, she thought, knowing her life was now in the Elland’s hands. Let them be sincere and kind, and not like the others. Let this not be in vain…
 
The carriage itself was a deep black with a ghost sheen of blue that played across its panels like some great carapace. The coachman's seat was empty but the traces were quite tight on the horse. The unfortunate animal did seem to be a real horse and it was terrified. Violet could see it shaking, its skin flicking madly and nearly wet with lather. Its eyes rolled wildly and it stepped from side to side but seemed to be pinioned by the lines of the carriage which did not move at all.

The thick door of the vehicle swung open as she reached out. It was propelled by a tiny brass spring at the top, or at least it looked like a spring, or a shaft, or a rod perhaps but it withdrew instantly and in memory seemed to resemble a tiny arm and hand more than anything else. But with the door open, it had disappeared into the dark interior.

Heavy scarlet hangings layered the walls, their brocade patterns catching the light from the advancing morning. The cushioned ledge of a long couch seat was just visible in the shade and from the interior wafted a thick scent of flowers like some hidden floral cave.
 
Violet took a step back, startled as the door swung open. “Hello?” she asked cautiously, peering into the darkened carriage. The horse could be heard stamping and snorting under the control of its invisible master up front and she had more than a little sympathy for it. The survival-oriented part of her brain screamed for her to turn around, leave this thing, but logically there wasn’t any other choice. A glance over her shoulder found the Scouts already gone. There was no going back. Forward was the only option.

Stepping up into carriage, she took a seat on the bench, wrinkling her nose at the strong scent of flowers that wafted over her and wondering what came next.
 
The interior of the carriage was rounded and lavishly hung with the scarlet draperies. The door had an oddly round window framed by the hangings. The upper hemisphere of the seating area was a collection of bronze and brass arabesques inlaid into the ceiling. Even in the dimness their strange circling paths promised vertigo if one were to follow them too long.

The door began to slowly shut like a bank vault, a ponderous closing, sunlight narrowing to a thin crack around the circular plate and then with a clunking snap it was closed leaving Violet in the fragrant dark with only the round window for light and it had very nearly succumbed to those red drapes.

No sooner had the door touched home than the whips gave a double crack sending the horse into a fit of fearful cries. The whole rig shuddered with the effort of the beast pulling at its weight but it was a moment more before it began to move, spoked wheels grinding forward over the dusty asphalt road.

And when it started moving there was a sudden scrabbling above her. Some small creature was grabbing for purchase amid the curled carvings in the ceiling. Violet could now clearly see a small being no longer than half her forearm, maybe two hands long. It had nearly transparent wings easily as long as it s body and as it frantic tried to rearrange itself as a hidden shape among the many above Violet, those wings shimmered a dragonfly green. Its body gleamed a brassy bronze and flexed entirely naked. It had a set of smallish breasts but also a tiny erect penis jutting slightly past thin hips.

She struggled and twisted until she noticed Violet watching her and then snapped into a shape, small arms akimbo, legs cocked outward. Her hair was a shock of gold, like a candle flame caught in the act of being hair. No longer holding on to anything though, the small figure only hung in the air for a moment before tumbling into the cushions across from Violet with a muted thump.
 
Violet found the interior of the carriage vaguely unsettling, too dark by far, and seeming like nothing but red where the light peeked through draperies. Not to mention there’s no one driving it. She jumped when the door finally swung shut and then again when the carriage leapt into motion. Taking a deep breath and crossing her arms tightly over her chest, Violet berated herself for being so skittish. It was understandable, but she couldn’t spend the entire time behaving like a frightened mouse. Not that that wasn’t what her hosts probably already thought of them as -- mice. Lab mice, maybe.

Her resolve was immediately tested upon hearing a noise above and Violet ducked back, halfway expecting something horrible to fall on her head. Instead was, well…she didn’t know what exactly. A little person. A fairy, perhaps. She tried to remember exactly what she recalled about such creatures and cursed herself for not at least bringing some kind of guide. Something with a danger rating might have been nice, one to ten how likely it was to kill someone, one being guaranteed, ten being not nearly as fast as you’d like.

This creature looked safe enough though, cute almost, like anything miniature. Of course she knew from stories that some of the Fae were so beautiful that their appearance alone was enough to fatally entrance a mortal. She watched it struggling, almost as if it wished to hide itself, before falling onto the adjacent seat. Violet continued to stare for a moment until finally curiosity took hold. “Um…hello? Are you alright?” Her tongue ran nervously over her dry lips. “I mean are you like my escort or something? Do you talk?”
 
The little creature popped a small head up, its hair snapped to attention a moment later. She had solid gem-tone blue eyes and a sweet, heart-shaped face full of mischief. She was of course naked but didn’t seem to notice in the slightest. Sitting up on the seat she opened her mouth and made a sound that sounded somewhere between a singing cricket and a warbling frog.

Beyond the round window, the buildings of the town slowly wandered by, none of them particularly intact. Their destruction seemed as much an act of nature as of the invasion. One house, a two story apartment amid the debris of others like it, was bowed out like the moment after an explosion, its every brick and board separated. But each of those bricks, each board was held in place by vines and trees warped around their structure capturing them in their outward collapse, freezing them in geological time.

The wild haired imp hopped up to stand on the seat in an instant and adopted a fighting stance like a Victorian boxer, little feet dancing back and forth, tiny fists curled inward and circling around. But a moment later she thought better of that and shifted to a stance with her hands on her slim hips looking Violet over, her jewel eyes critical. Her penis was still very erect but she didn’t seem to notice that either so it seemed quite natural on her.

They passed another house where the front had been ripped off leaving the inside entirely intact. Everything in it hung as if the people had just disappeared and the teacups had yet to tumble. At the downstairs table a bit of toasted bread hung in mid air, a bite gone from its corner. A paper hung open over the couch as if just thumbed open. In an upper bedroom, before a pink rimmed mirror, a princess brush hung in midair, part-way through a brushing stroke that it would never finish.

The bronzed being touched her chin in consideration and then came to some internal conclusion. With a little dance step she offered a bow and her tall hair seemed to flop over. Then she straightened up with a sawtoothed grin just short of wicked and offered a miniature hand to shake.
 
Violet had set no rules for herself when it came to dealing with the Fae. Things had simply happened too quickly for her come up with any kind of plan. Nor had she been given much advice. Perhaps nobody knew any to give, contact with the Fae generally being so final, or perhaps no one really expected her to survive long enough for it to matter.

Still, as she found herself being drawn in by the little creature, Violet knew she should be cautious. It might be dangerous, terribly dangerous, however it looked. Yes, Violet knew that, but that didn’t keep her from being charmed by the creature’s behavior. By the end of its little pantomime boxing act, she already felt a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Perhaps if she had glanced at the window instead and caught sight of the strange and eerie ruins they were rattling past, it might have wilted just quickly. These things went unnoticed though. Her attention had been entirely captured by the little winged man.

Or woman, she thought, not quite able to decide which between its small breasts and pointed erection. The latter might have seemed distractingly lewd or even threatening on a larger creature but the effect wasn’t quite the same on something so small. When it shifted its feet and dropped into a bow, Violet returned its grin with a genuine smile, leaning forward in her seat in order to extend the first two fingers of her right hand.

“Hello. My name Violet.” She already knew it couldn’t speak, at least not in a language she knew, so she could only hope it understood her own words. “I’m… I’m the one the Elland asked to come. It’s very nice to meet you.”
 
The smile was already turning into a shark's grin when the words “I’m the one the Elland asked to come “ fell between them. The little creature jumped back like she had been stung, flopping her hands and wheeling legs to land in the knees-and-elbows version of a knotted string.

Her wild hair shifted and a face popped out from between cupped hands with a chirrup. She stood abruptly and her wings snapped out in a dizzy flutter to lift her up a few inches as she squinted at Violet, taking in her face. Then she huffed out a dejected sigh and her wings snapped back in letting her fall to the cushion like a grumpy matryoshka doll.

She stumped to the edge of the cushion and held her hand out again, this time more like it was a duty. She impatiently waved the extended fingers closer and then reached out and gave then a shake before leaping through the air to land in Violet's lap and flop over like a teenager on her bed.

Beyond the window, the town slowly rolled by, signposts bleached white from the sun and peeling their reflective paints into the wind, flowers and wild vines blaring up every surface, a violent shout of nature through the patient works of man.

The little creature splayed out over Violet's lap and uttered an exaggerated snore cranking her mouth open to make the point even as her little cock stood up at its eternal twelve o’clock.

The carriage that had been ambling along began to pick up its pace and there seemed to be an air of urgency about it, an expectancy in the funeral floral scent.
 
Violet could not help but notice the effect that mentioning the Elland had had on the little creature. It leapt away, jagged grin receding into something more uncertain. Whether the name alone commanded fear or granted her a kind of safe passage among the Fae, it was hard to know. Perhaps both. She had the uneasy feeling though that she may have just escaped something by the skin of her teeth. Cute or no, there was at least a fair chance her erstwhile travel mate had meant her harm up until that moment, even if it was now stretched out peacefully on her lap, looking as harmless as a housecat.

You need to stay sharp, she reminded herself. Don’t just judge them by how they look or even what they say. Always assume the worst.

Yeah, right, great advice. Assume the worst. And then do what exactly?

Violet preferred not to think about that. If she lingered too long on just how helpless she felt right now she’d be too frozen to do much of anything when they arrived at their destination. It was important she make a good impression on the Elland if it was at all possible. Leaning back, careful not to disturb her little guest, she turned her head to watch the scenery speeding past and tried to let her mind drift. She wouldn’t sleep, there wasn’t much chance of that, but the journey through the woods had been exhausting. She could at least shut her eyes for awhile and try to get whatever rest she could before facing whatever lay ahead.
 
The carriage moved with its muffled silence, isolated. The outside, harsh sunlight once so uncommon in these lands streaming down, motes of willow fluff burst from their stems, wandering through the day. Cloud shadows, drifting titans sliding across the ruined town, scrubbing away the memories of its past tenses.

After a time the carriage hung into a turn, the sweat drenched horse clomping though wrought iron gates sprung wide on the road. A sign rusted around its white edges turned partly in toward their route showed “Smith Art Gallery”in letters many times traced in some color unmentionable.

The tall wheels bumped over the exposed drainpipe that spanned the broken ground before the gate and the little fae sat bolt upright on Violet's knees, deep blue eyes opening, blinking.

In a moment she hopped up and landed on the soft flooring, little bare feet flapping. She dashed up to the door crouching under the window, pressing her ear against the panel there, listening like a spy.

The coach pulled around the drive of the two story building, a stately manor house complete with roman columns supporting the thick concrete portico, a single wide door still emerald green that stood half open revealing a shield-wall of doors inside their tall window glass halves dark. Three steps walked up to the raised porch and the coach pulled around into the grass leaving a generous swath of walkway up to the entrance before coming to an abrupt stop that seemed as much a surprise to the huffing horse as to Violet.

The little creature giggled a cricket's cackle and rubbed her little hands together before gathering herself up like a waiter at a snooty restaurant complete with one arm folded just under her little breasts. A white dish towel hanging there would have made the image complete. She held up a single finger to signify the importance of what was to come and with a practiced gesture she reached over and gave the door a double rap, just a knock with her hand.

The door sprang open in an instant, so fast it rocked the coach itself. The little thing laughed like a fiend hugging her tiny sides then looked at Violet as if to share the elation of the act.
 
Violet peered out the window in puzzlement as the carriage pulled up outside the manor house. Somehow it wasn’t what she expected. She’d assumed there’d be some kind of settlement or city or maybe even a vast palace rising up over the treetops. Something magical and strange and otherworldly. I don’t know a thing about these people…or creatures, or whatever they are, she realized. She couldn’t even know for certain that they’d sent this carriage. She was flying almost entirely blind.

Violet smiled uncertainly as her little traveling companion capered about the floor before gesturing at the door, laughing altogether too much when it shot open like a cork, causing her to gasp. “Right. Very funny,” she muttered, peering out the opening and finally forcing herself up to her feet. Disembarking from the carriage with ginger steps, she stared up at the manor home and its row of off-white pillars. So far the Elland weren’t much for greetings. They could have at least had someone waiting. Violet reflected just how badly she wanted a guide or someone to give her some clue as to what was happening, what was expected. Even though they’d only been together for a very brief time, she missed the scouts more than she could say. At least they had known where they were going.

Heading up the walkway, she cupped her hands around her mouth and called out. "Hello? Anyone? Could you stop being mysterious even for a second?” Violet could hear the frustrated tone in her own voice. Open by insulting your immortal godlike hosts. A brilliant start, V. Sighing, she walked up to the green door and rapped on it lightly. “Hello? Please someone answer me. I’m here to…” She swallowed, unable to complete that sentence. “I’m here.”
 
As Violet moved away from the carriage, it seemed to tremble behind her, possessed with a nervous energy, a current in its panels. The whips attached to the seat waved idly and the horse sensed that something was wrong, eyes rolling in terror, feet stomping.

The little creature flitted up behind her making a tiny-throated yodel as she called out. Spying the open door she snapped a finger in the manner of “aww shucks” but she stayed close to Violet all the same.

Clearly unable to wait a moment more, the carriage unfolded insecticide legs ridged along their backs with wicked barbs. They pulled from the existing carapace with a rending shriek like nails from old boarding. The wheels became pods of tentacle-like legs and the whips snapped at the poor creature of the horse already caught in its viney clutches. The dark beetle creature threw itself forward and impaled the horse, piercing its flesh with the claws and pincers that seemed to mold and mesh in the dark form of the horror.

Crimson geysered and splattered on the panels, now become dark armored plates, only to get sucked up and drawn away into the huge insect's shadowy presence.

The horse quickly disappeared but less merciful were the sounds of tendons tearing and bones breaking, the hard popping sounds escaping the hidden maw that devoured the once familiar creature. A portent perhaps, everything known slipping away into the gullet of one monster or another. The feast on the lawn, the blood offering, or just a bit of lunch for some unearthly denizen.

“Oh, you are here. I am so glad to finally meet you.” said a voice very like the wind in the leaves. It was a whisper just for Violet and it reached out to her, the sound of it stroking her cheek.

The being standing just outside the door was mournfully beautiful. She had powerfully red hair with strands of gold and her face was a collection of angles and smoothness, tilted eyes filled with pitch black like the night sky full of clouds and stars hidden somewhere deep within. He pale bare shoulders shone like ivory and the gown she wore started out a brilliant red like her hair but as it molded over her form it became a more subdued orange until it cast into brown and shadows around her hidden feet.

The gown drifted away into a train of fall leaves that lifted away from her on a wind Violet could not feel. Her curves were sensual without being voluptuous. He breasts were slight enough to be undemanding, her hips slim enough to let her gown fall easily around them.

But in her shape there burned something darkly passionate and sexual, a sudden desire like might grasp at one in the last days of autumn, the sense that time was passing and these perfect days might soon be gone. That mournful sense that kisses had gone unknown and caresses had lived through summer only in dreams while now here stood the final moments before bitter winter and what to do but want desperately for them to be real.

She smelled of the deep woods, of ferns and rain and fresh earth. Her smile spread pale lips to reveal all too white teeth. “How nice of you to come.”

The creature feasted on the remains of the horse, hunkering its round bulk over the scarlet pile. The little creature from the carriage hung partly behind Violet's right shoulder and peeped a word of undecipherable wisdom. But language barrier or not, Violet knew a warning when she heard one.


Chapter 2 – The Lady of Hours
 
Violet turned at the sound of the horse screaming and her hands rose up to her mouth as the color drained from her face. She swallowed a startled cry but not a shudder as blood spattered the shiny blue carapace of the carriage. The poor tormented horse, terrified throughout their journey for what was now clearly good reason, did not last long enough for her to feel pity or sadness for it. All she could think as she heard the bones crunching was that she’d been sitting inside of that thing. She’d been inside of it! At no point had she guessed it was alive, that it was capable of such horrifying violence.

She was still watching as the remnants of the horse's entrails slithered onto the grass, only to be sucked up into the insect thing’s maw, when a voice snaked its way into her ear. Any hope she might have had of putting on a brave face and making a strong first impression was gone. Violet spun to meet the voice’s owner with large hazel eyes round with terror. She couldn’t find her voice, couldn’t think of anything to say, as the autumn woman smiled at her with teeth like a strip of polished ivory. “Ah. The, the horse…the carriage, it…”

Her little companion chirped something from her shoulder and it served at least to help bring her back into the moment. Violet sucked in a deep lungful of air, her breath sounding quivery even to her own ears as she slowly released it. “I’m sorry,” she forced herself to say as politely as possible. “I just didn’t expect…” She tried to push the image out of her mind, knowing even now the carriage was still back there, scuttling through the blood and gristle, devouring that unfortunate animal’s reminds. “Th, Thank you for meeting me.” The thought flitted through her head that the woman might have heard what she’d said before while still thinking herself alone. Please, please, don’t let me have offended them already. “My people sent me here like you asked. I hope I’m what you wanted. We only want peace with you, I swear.”

She realized of course she hadn’t even discerned the most important fact and a slight flush crept onto her pale face. “I mean, you are one of the Elland aren‘t you?”
 
The fae woman looked at Violet with a deep sympathy crossing her features like a cloud.

“Oh you poor dear. Where is your mind? What silly things have you been told?” She said in a voice like soft summer, each word splashing against Violet, a sweet jolt of sound. The Autumn lady glided closer. There seemed no steps beneath the hem of her leaf trained gown. The scent of ferns and rain took on an exotic flavor when she was close, as if the whole world were narrowing down to just the two of them. Her face was milky and smooth with sharp cheeks natural touched with color, pink lips and a dagger edge nose.

“Forget what you have been told.” She urged tipping her pointed chin downward slightly but keeping the focus of those deep black midnight eyes on Violet. Her voice was like standing in a warm rain and its sound seemed to sink into Violet's skin leaving a sweet feeling in its wake. It was what warm vanilla would sound like if it were not a scent.

“Know that you stand before the Summer Court of Dreams and Queen Caoilainn, Princess of Blossoms, Lady of Song, Baroness of Callings, the Chained Tyrant and Warden of the Punishing Flame resides on its throne.” She gave that a moment to sink in, her dark eyes narrowing as the smile turned wicked, as if she hoped the string of unknown titles might strike even more fear into the heart. Then she went on.

“I am Etaine, Lady of Leaves Lost, Prisoner of the Summer, Countess of Breaths Stolen, Dream Shaper and Flesh Caller, and your guide. You must obey me in all things and I will try to help you give no offense.” She said returning to her pained look of sympathy before adding “Daunting.”

The little creature that had followed Violet out of the carriage peeked over her shoulder, two full blue eyes beneath a flare of golden hair rising straight up like a signal fire. Etaine noticed and gave her a short hiss. She hopped up onto Violet's shoulder and grabbed a handful of hair to steady herself, then returned a tiny tongue stuck out with clear malice aforethought. Etain's light russet brow's ticked upward.

“You seem to have made a friend already. That vermin is a knock. It is very good at opening things, doors, bottles, rib cages. If you plan to keep it you should take care to feed it or it will open everything it can reach.” She said lightly. But she was clearly unmoved by the irascible little thing.

“I imagine that you have questions? Did you bring anything with you from your caves?”
 
Violet felt captured in the warm sweet flow of the woman’s voice and the deep black pools of her eyes, an unmoored ship under the effects of a tide too strong to resist. There was little hope of remembering the string of strange titles she’d just been given. All that lingered were the vaguely threatening words -- tyrant, punishing, stolen, chained, flame. When told she must obey in all things, that this woman would be her guide, she nodded numbly. That had been the very thing she wanted moments ago but now that it was here, doubt crept in. For all her sweet words and sympathetic looks, the fae did not seem like someone it would be wise to place her full trust in.

But she had so few choices in the end. None at all really, when looked at plainly. She must try to please this strange woman if for no other reason than that the consequences of not pleasing her might very well destroy whatever chances she had here.

Violet was surprised when the little creature from carriage peeked around her shoulder, tugging at her short hair, making faces at Lady Etaine. She had thought it might leave when they reached their destination. Now she was being told it had befriended her. Another friend she couldn’t exactly trust, but she still felt a tinge of gratitude nonetheless. Better to have an uncertain ally than to be entirely alone.

“Not a lot. A toothbrush, some clothes,” Violet replied, glancing down at the baggy fatigues she still wore. She ignored any implied insult in the word caves, determined to be courteous and as exact as she could with this strange imposing woman. “As for questions, I’d mostly like to know what your people expect from me. I wasn’t really given any orders. I just… Why am I even here? Why offer to speak to us and why through me? I'm nobody...”
 
Etaine took in her answers with a subtle nod. “Well, it seems I will not be punishing you, how clever to admit bringing these clothes. I think the queen may very well be correct about you. However...” She leaned closer bring with her a sense of quiet vertigo. “Never refer to yourself as nobody again. Only the queen may offer titles.” He black eyes flashed with a hidden anger.

“Until then, you are you and than only. You have no name, no title and no significance.” And then she smiled as sweetly as a lover from years again finding her heart once again. “Except to me of course.” Knock, who had ignored Etaine studiously, was gazing into Violet's exposed ear, one thoughtful finger in her chin.

“Come” Said the Fae woman. “We need to get you ready.” She said ending the words in a hummed tune that seemed to ride the wind on its own. It was very nearly something half remembered from Violet's youth, maddeningly familiar but she just couldn't quite grasp it.

Etaine turned and drifted up the steps without seeming to take a single step, past the open door and into the house. Violet had little choice but to follow.

The interiors was quickly a maze of white washed walls crowded with elaborate frames and pictures of all manners of creatures, huge cats lounging beside small houses, red pool reflecting faces like a portrait, horrible smashups of features that might have been faces but inspired such revulsion it was hard to follow a single line of their forms. The all seemed a little deeper than a normal painting, as if Violet might reach into one and caress the image within.

Etaine led her up a wide flight of stairs and then down a hall that might have belonged in a palace somewhere with its sumptuous carpets and statue collecting niches. Then they went up another smaller set of stair and then a spiral staircase that wound up past a wide open floor with dark walls and no furniture at all, up to yet another floor. The leaves the drifted from the edge of her dress fluttered back past Violet and lost themselves down the hallways or into the paintings, a few of them becoming permanent parts of the paintings unless they were there the whole time and Violet had just missed it.

Surely there were not these many levels from outside, certainly there were only two or three stories but it was getting hard to remember. The scent from Etaine wafted around her like alcohol making Violet feel free and trapped at the same time. At some point Knock had flitted off and upon one or another turns in the tall labyrinth the fae woman turned and her eyes seemed the only real things in the whole scene. It occurred that perhaps they were all in a painting, just smudges of pigment to be appreciated from some snooty passer-by. It was a gigglesome thought.

“This is your room.” Etaine said ushering Violet inside. As soon as she passed the door frame, the stupor lifted, Violets eyes unclouded and she breathed in the clean dusty air of a room long unused.

A four poster bed sprawled from the corner out into the room with gauzy blue drapes falling from its canopy. Polished wood flooring described intricate diamond patterns and a series of two bureaus stood against the far wall. A mahogany door stood in the deep green wall beside them. A round floor length mirror stood tall just this side of the bed and two high backed chairs sat by the end of the bed looking like visitors from some other room.

“Are you alright? Travel through the house can be disorienting so I am told.” She said seeking out Violet's eyes with her own.
 
Violet wasn’t certain if the Fae woman was teasing her with the things she said or deathly serious. Lady Etain left her unbalanced between her enticingly sweet smiles and sudden flashes of frightening anger. She felt at constant risk of saying or doing the wrong thing, something that might shift the woman’s mood permanently to the latter extreme. Consequently, Violet said very little at all, following obediently in her wake, forced to listen as she hummed her frustratingly familiar tune.

As the pair of them glided up winding staircases and through vast halls -- or less glided than scurried in Violet’s case as she struggled to keep pace with her seemingly weightless guide -- she tried to take in the various paintings they passed. The artistry seemed so detailed, so real, yet the subject matter repelled her in nearly every case. She could not understand why such beautiful rooms would be decorated with such appalling art, although it may have been just as well that this was the case. If not for the hesitation she felt at the images, Violet might have reached out and touched one despite herself. And she could she swear she’d seen some of the leaves wafting from Etain’s train sail right into them…

That was impossible of course. Then again so was almost everything she’d witnessed since the scouts had left her side. Violet despaired at keeping up with it all. Would Etain expect her to remember everything she’d said so far? The autumn lady noticeably had not deigned to answer any of the questions she’d asked her earlier. The woman’s help was very likely only going to be given on her own terms and upon her own choosing. So far the first Fae she’d met had not harmed her, which was a relief, but neither had she done much to ease her fears.

By the time they reached their destination, it was the forest march all over again. Violet was fairly certain she couldn’t find her back to the front door if she wished it. At least the room itself looked normal though. She was relieved to see the furnishings were simple sturdy wood and that none of the grotesque paintings from the hallways decorated these walls. “Thank you,” she said quietly, running a hand over the bedspread as she stepped inside. “It’s very nice. It was a little. Disorienting, I mean. But I’ll be fine now. Am I expected to meet with anyone else today?” Violet was very tired, exhausted mentally as well as physically, not to mention filthy from her trek through the forest, but still determined to hold up to whatever her hosts wished and make the best impression she possibly could.
 
“Expected.” Echoed Etaine, a wistful crossing her perfect face. “I like the sound of that word, expected...expected.” Then she turned her face back to Violet.

“Yes indeed, you will meet the Queen at the banquet.” She said letting her dark eyes roam down over the rumpled fatigues.

“But those savage things will never do.” Etaine shook her head letting her rich red hair swish around almost as if it were underwater. “Your dress will never fit over those awful sacks.” She reached out as if to touch the heavy canvas top before thinking better of it and pulling her pale hand back while making a soundless snapping gesture.

“I suppose they have a clever way of coming off? I could help if you need.” She added suppressing a malicious smile into a dreadful smirk.
 
Violet watched Etain with a mix of caution and curiosity. The strange things the Fae said might have been charming, were in a way charming, but for the unease she felt around the woman. When Etain reached out to touch her shirt, she flinched and very nearly backpedaled. “No, thank you,” Violet replied maybe a little too quickly to her offer, trying to ignore her discomforting expression. “I mean, I’m okay. And they just come off like any other clothes…”

Obviously, she almost added, but managed to hold that back, trying to remain polite despite the Fae’s strangeness. Disrobing in front of this eerily beautiful creature wasn’t exactly something she wanted to do but she saw no way around it. She couldn’t meet the queen dressed in dirty rumpled fatigues. Even she knew that.

Stepping away from Etain, she quickly pulled the top over her head and placed it atop the bed. Then she sat down and unlaced her boots, pulling them free one at a time, followed by the drab baggy pants. Beneath them Violet was wearing just a simple white cotton bra and panties, her body pale and thin with small breasts and slightly curved hips. She tried not to look too self-conscious as she glanced back to Lady Etain. “I could probably use a bath before I change, if that’s at all possible. I spent the whole day running through the woods to get here…” She was also terribly thirsty and needed use of a restroom but decided it best to only ask one thing at a time from her host.
 
The Fae woman watched Violet shrug out of her fatigues with a wonder that might have been mocking if it were not so earnest. “Just like any other clothes.” She said to herself gliding to one side to get a better look at the pile. “How unusual. I thought I spoke your language but you keep saying things that I just don't understand.” The she raised her dark alien eyes to Violet.

“You seem skittish, coltish, frightened, but it is the Queen's will that no harm come to you. Unless someone is willing to pay a very dire price, none may visit ill upon you.” And just as quickly her form flared into a whirl of leaves, a sudden and alarming rustling like some beast leaping from the forest edge. And almost in the same instant Etaine formed right in front if Violet, her leaves knitting together in a seamless bode and gown, a fall of sunset hair, one arm casually over Violet's shoulder and the other hand laid gently over her collarbone, a gesture away from the neck or the breast. Her breath carried the scent of rain, her touch was electric like a thin current of sensual fire touching Violet's nerves. Her pale face was close enough to kiss.

“I am rather a special case though. I have to see that you cause no offense and I have orders to acclimate you to the Queens wishes. I will have to change you according to the Queen's plans. Ahh ah.” She tutted bringing a soft finger to touch Violet's lips.

“The Queen has such plans, for you and this whole world. But you are the key. You are the first piece of a puzzle that will change everything. And I want so much to devour you.” Etaine's nose was just inches away, her dark eyes holding Violet hostage.

“But having seen what Queen Caoilainn was willing to do to the Winter Court of King Dubhaile, myself included...” She shook her head breaking part of the spell, was her look fear, trepidation?

“I may not be familiar with your kind, but I know that these...” She said running the finger from Violet's lips down her chin and to the strap of her bra leaving a trail of soft fire like a path of kisses. “...are still clothes.”

Etaine let her mouth drift a little closer to Violet's, she breathed out and her scent was a distant forest, dew and gray morning. The the leaves rushed again away from her, a sudden flurry that reformed into Etaine sitting primly on the edge of the bed.

“When you have disrobed, I will help you get clean and then see to your gown for the feast.” She said as casually as if she had been sitting there the whole time, mercurial as thought itself.
 
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