#nectarmoon

[ellaofoakhill]

Nectarmoon, Part Three

And here’s the last tftem update in 2021. Don’t worry, the story’s not done by a long shot; Ella and Meline have lots of adventures coming up. I’m kinda glad I get to end the year by showing you guys some of my favourite writing ever.

Anyway, I hope you’ve had a happy holiday so far, and 2022 is kinder to you than 2021. Take care, and enjoy.

Meline heard that scream. She knew that voice. That name. The terrible, desperate rage that had consumed her on the docks so long ago filled her. If she died trying, the fire in that clearing would be snuffed out. Her wings roared, then snapped tight to her back. Meline plummeted to earth. Words of power thrummed in her heart and blood and bones as her feet hit the ground. It yielded, inches from Chultaroth’s head. Deeper and deeper, until it could give no more. Her fist pulled back, her whole body winding up. One more word, and her voice thundered through the ground, heartbreak and fury given one mighty target.

“Worm!”

The earth snapped up as her body twisted, her fist whipped out in a perfect line, and the dragon turned her head.

Meline was blinded by the light of her own fist as it struck, punching elbow-deep into flesh. Blood poured from Chultaroth’s head as it snapped away, wobbling on her long neck, and Meline’s fist wrenched free. As she fell to the ground, her eyes recovered, and Meline saw a glowing against Chultaroth’s neck.

Gobs of what had recently been teeth spun from the dragon’s mouth as she spat. Her uninjured lip pulled back in a wild snarl. Her jaws were aglow. “That. Stu—”

She shrieked as the glowing spot leapt from her neck with a sound like ripping paper. It took Meline a moment to identify it. “Ella!” She catapulted herself into the air, hooking her arms under Ella’s and bringing her to earth as softly as possible. Ella’s shin twisted just below the knee. It wasn’t supposed to do that. Meline set her hands on Ella’s leg and spoke. As the bone started regaining its proper position and knitting together, she felt a hand on the back of her head. “Yes, just—”

Ella pulled her into a kiss so fierce Meline forgot what was happening. “Hello, gorgeous,” she said, flopping back in a clammy sweat. “I don’t suppose you can put me back together less painfully?”

Ella never complained about pain. “I can do it quick or I can do it painless—”

“—Or not at all!” Meline grabbed Ella and jumped sideways as Chultaroth’s tail smashed where they’d lain an instant before.

Meline turned, brandishing her fists. Ella groaned behind her, struggling to rise. The dragon arched her neck. “I will enjoy incinerating you.”

“Want some more teeth pulled?” Unless Meline downed another tonic, Chultaroth would see through her bluff any second.

“Ha!” Chultaroth inhaled with a sound like a screaming gale. She opened her bloody mouth. The back of her throat flared. A shrieking snarl tore through the night, and Rickard the fox crashed into Chultaroth’s head, teeth scraping at her neck.

Meline felt a hand at her shoulder. “Splint my leg!” Ella barked, “I need to get back in there!”

“With what!” Meline spun around. And understood.

Tatters of hardened slime hung off the glowing silver spear in Ella’s hand. Four inches long, its head shaped like a willow leaf with crosstrees like stag antlers, its haft leather-wrapped, with a star sapphire as its wheel-shaped pommel. Writing in a script Meline didn’t recognize covered it end to end.

Ella’s expression was grim satisfaction. “With this.”

“I don’t think there’s time—”

Ella’s elytra snapped open, her wings spread, rippling red glass. Supporting herself with the spear, Ella pulled herself up. “Then I’ll improvise.”

 This was as bad as when Elmum fought her dad. Selva couldn’t watch, but was too scared to look away. Vesi stood beside her, under the one bush that wasn’t burning. Vaness was hugging Selva. Vernon led Coarser to them so he could rest, then plunged in. He was tiny next to Chultaroth, but he was real good at wedging his horns between scales.

Chultaroth thumped her wings down and heaved, sending one fox bouncing with a pained yelp. The other bit the end of her tail, dodging wings and claws and teeth.

The nice fairy had dragged Felix over to them. He was awake, but too hurt to move; Vaness thought he had broken bones. The nice fairy had asked for his bow, and Felix, groaning, gave it. Selva couldn’t see him, but every now and again she heard a tiny arrow clink off a scale, or a little thwack as it hit flesh. Red spots blossomed on Chultaroth’s wings. She was getting madder, roaring and thrashing. Vaness wondered under her breath if they were keeping Chultaroth too busy to use her fire again.

A screech came from overhead. Then another. And a hundred more. Big shapes dropped through the trees. Most dropped water over the fires, with hissing steam. A few dropped balls of black shiny stuff on Chultaroth that burst open. Selva saw little black things swarm over her body, and Chultaroth’s roars got even angrier. A few bigger shapes dropped too. Their laughs chilled Selva even with the fires. Metal scraped on metal. Sparks flew from Chultaroth’s back.

Selva kept her eyes on two bright lights, flitting through the smoke and sparks. Once, Elmum flew close enough for her to see. She had a spear that flashed and flew at the dragon, before zipping back to her hands. Every throw pulled a snarl from Chultaroth. She spun and snapped and flapped her wings, but Elmum was too quick. And Melmom… she wasn’t so fast as Elmum, but now and again there was a thud, and Chultaroth would stagger as her shoulder, her leg, her wing, or her head shivered from an attack Selva barely saw.

Vaness was cursing under her breath, which normally would’ve had all Selva’s attention. Under all the fear, hope bloomed in Selva’s heart.

“Enough!” Chultaroth stood on her back legs, wings spread, and spun. The fox on her tail was flung off. Selva heard a thump and a yelp in the trees. Chultaroth twisted her neck, and fire shot down her back and wings. Selva heard yells and shrieks as drakles and critters jumped away. The smell of burnt meat hit Selva in the face. She retched. Vaness did too. The tip of Chultaroth’s tail caught Vernon in the side. He was bowled into the undergrowth. Selva heard a curse.

Two falling stars collided high above. There were three shrieks. Selva only realized one of them was hers when her throat cracked. They hit the earth a stone’s throw to Selva’s left. She ran. Vaness was faster. They weren’t moving when Selva caught up. Vaness was over them, hands to necks.

“They’re alive,” she choked. Selva’s legs wobbled. She felt a little thump against her chest. She pulled out her harp. It wasn’t broken.

“But not for long.” Selva’s head snapped around. That huge head, those bone-white teeth, were so close. Chultaroth raised her voice. “A valiant effort, smallfolk. But no force in all the worlds may deny a dragon her due. If it is any consolation,” she spread her wings; her jaws began to glow, “you will share a lovely pyre.” Selva looked into that furnace. She set fingers to harpstrings—when did she strap it on?—and began to pluck. It was really out of tune. That wasn’t important now.

As Chultaroth’s mouth flashed white, Selva began to sing.

 “Fornmy dhu,

Frimmy dhu,

Vylmy dhu,

Rummy shridshan dhu,

Fevé myrvlodha.”

Ella stirred from her daze. A slight pressure at her throat roused her. Shapeless blobs floated across her eyes, crackling sound. A dark, angry thrumming. Then delicate notes, accompanied by a small voice. Beneath it, around it, was a dull roar.

Ella blinked several times, and raised her head. Her leg was still an agony, but her vision and hearing were clear. She did not immediately believe them.

“Azldha dhu,

Duddha dhu,

Dodha dhu,

Movntha arenldh dhu,

Fevé myrvlodha.”

Fire danced a hair from her and Meline, who lay stunned in her arms, blood trickling from her nose. But not a tongue touched them. They should both have vaporised in white-hot flames, but Ella just felt… warm. And the shapes the flames took! Daisies, roses, violets, cherry and apple blossoms every colour of the rainbow. Foliage and flowers so thick she almost missed the little shape before her, fingers plucking, head upturned, right hand actually touching the inferno curling about them. The song she had sung at the wedding was soft and rich on her lips. Ella could have been deaf and heard the magic in it.

Meline stirred. Ella gave her a tiny shake, and pointed. After a moment, Meline covered her mouth with one hand.

Umthefmy dhu,

Umdlommy dhu,

Fa, frunmysh dhu,

Umfrnmysh vrur nenr dhu,

Fevé myrvlodha.”

The blasting flames tapered off as Selva sang the last line. Chultaroth stood before them, panting. Her eyes widened; Ella would never forget that look of slack-jawed awe.

Selva finished her song, tottering on her feet. Vaness caught her before she struck the ground. The flames, as if at the snap of a finger, went out. Vaness picked Selva up, and backed away.

But for the crackling of the remaining fires, there was silence. Meline struggled to her feet. After she got the spear upright, Ella joined her, using it as a crutch. She opened her elytra, ready to fly in an instant.

“How… interesting,” Chultaroth said. It sounded forced. “It’s been fun, but I profess myself bored. How do you smallfolk taste with—”

“Give it up!” Meline shouted, resetting her nose with a small crunch.

Ten pupils focused on her. “Pardon—”

“You’re spent. You can’t keep fighting. Leave now, and we won’t kill you.” Ella saw shapes rising all around. One might have been Sali, Arthur another; all black and grey with ash.

“I’m not going any—”

“Has it not sunk in yet?” Meline took a step forward. Ella saw her leg tremble; she doubted the dragon noticed. “You haven’t killed even one of us, worm. We are picking ourselves up. We are rallying our strength. And if you aren’t gone in five minutes, we’ll bury you.”

“Call me ‘worm’ one more—”

“Shut! Up!” Meline roared. Several drakles jumped. “I will call you worm until you deserve better!” She stalked straight at those eyes. The force of them was waning fast. “You don’t know Oak and Stone’s history, ignorant beast. We know what dragons can do. And we know they can be killed. Since its inception, this town has prepared for your wings on the horizon. Had you stooped on the town, you would’ve gotten six harpoons in the guts for your trouble.

“We fought for our freedom once, long ago. We fought for our lives. We know tyranny, we know your style of self-congratulating theft.

“And even if you kill us here, now, our places will be taken. We will rise up again, and again. And again. Until you leave. Or we mount your skull on the lighthouse as a warning to all your kind.”

She was at Chultaroth’s nose. The dragon’s forelegs trembled; Ella suspected it was from more than exhaustion. Chultaroth snorted; nothing came out, not even smoke. Her eyes widened the instant before Meline kicked her in the lip. Chultaroth recoiled.

“Try again! I’m ready! In fact,” Meline looked about her, “we’re all ready.” Ella scanned the clearing. The crackling flames and smoke had hidden the approaching defenders. They stood at the edge of the trees. Most were fey and drakles and the little creatures. But four more foxes, and badgers, and other creatures besides, waited. In the trees were pterosaurs, their riders invisible in the gloom.

“Who…” Chultaroth’s head snapped quickly around, “Who are you?”

Meline barked a laugh. Her hand went to her torc. “I?” Ella was too far away to tell, but Meline’s grin sounded savage. “I am the Wild Rose. Now get out of my sight.”

Chultaroth held her gaze. Meline returned it unwavering. Finally, Chultaroth spread her wings until the death and blood tattooed on her skin stretched translucent. With a flap and a pained grunt, Chultaroth pushed off. Another, and she was almost above the trees. Ella limped to Meline, who refused to collapse until the last wingbeat faded away.

 Meline gradually woke to the smell of Ella’s hair, and one powerful arm draped over her. She squinted. Two soft grey eyes peeked out from behind a curtain of crisp blonde. “Good evening, sleepy,” Ella said. She nuzzled Meline’s nose and kissed her. “How’re you feeling?”

“Well,” Meline’s throat felt like she hadn’t used it in a month. She tried to sit up, and bit back a curse. “Like I got hit by a cart.” She flopped back’ looking up at the cottage ceiling. “I haven’t been this stiff in ages.” She looked out. The sun was setting again. “How long was I out?”

Ella sat up and called. “Selv! How long was Melmom asleep?”

Feet pattered, the door swung open, and Selva sprang across the bed. Ella let out a squawk as Selva crawled into Meline’s arms. “Thirty-two nights!”

“Thirty—” Meline bit back another curse. She’d let one slip in front of Selva a while ago. The child had eventually dropped it.

“You pushed yourself,” Ella said, running a hand through Meline’s hair. “In twenty three thousand years, I’ve never seen anything like it.” She nuzzled Meline’s head. “You were amazing.”

Meline nuzzled back. Selva adjusted her place in Meline’s lap. The movement pulled the blankets sideways, revealing Ella’s cast. Meline looked up at her. “Who—”

“A drakle nurse in town here,” Ella said, noticing Meline’s gaze. “It itches something fierce, and her re-positioning the bone fragments was…”

“Elmum had a cloth in her mouth when they did it!” Selva said. “She cried lots!”

“You weren’t there! And there’s nothing wrong with crying!”

“Vaness told me!”

“Anyway,” Ella said, “I may have been a bit reckless in my recovery, and started walking too soon, and…”

“Your muscle turned to bone,” Selva said.

“Who’s telling the story, Selv?” Ella said, touching her nose in admonishment. Selva scrunched tighter against Meline. “Anyway, yes, so they removed that, and said if I didn’t listen, they’d amputate.” Her smile was crooked. “I’m fairly sure they were joking.”

Meline ruffled Ella’s hair. “You’re an idiot. And lucky. I would’ve slapped you upside the head and tied you to a rock for a week.”

“I know.” Ella chuckled. “But I’ve got the hang of my crutches, now.”

A thought occurred to Meline. “Speaking of crutches, where’s that spear?”

“The guildmasters are crafting a sheath for it,” Ella said, “and then it’ll rest in town hall until it’s needed again.”

“They haven’t gifted it to you? You pulled it from the dragon’s belly.”

Ella shook her head. “The wind told me it’ll be needed here.” She looked out the window. “I have many weapons in my armoury, Meline. The only one I didn’t make with my own hands was the sword my teacher gave me when I left her. Besides, that spear is the stuff of legend.”

Meline raised an eyebrow. “Legend, you say?”

Ella nodded. “I’ve examined it while you were asleep. The mayor sent for some loremasters. They’re translating the inscriptions. But Meline, that spear is old. As in a million years or more. There’s similarities to the oldest Feyish writings I’ve seen, but it’s either even older than that, or the inscriptions are in a language other than Feyish. The songs written about it have likely been lost.”

Selva shifted. “Well,” Meline said, giving Selva a kiss on the forehead, “no one will forget your song any time soon, Selva.”

Ella threw her head back and laughed. “Nevermind! Selva’s the hero of the night! The miracle child who turned dragonfire to flowers with song!”

“It just… happened,” Selva said. Her face heated up under Meline’s hand.

“Well, it’s a good thing it did,” Ella said, leaning forward and giving Selva a kiss. “You saved many lives, my dear.”

“Couldn’t any fire fairy do it?”

Meline scratched her chin. “… Yes. With a song. Words of power won’t break a dragon’s control over her own fire. But not many fire fairies your age could do that.” She hugged Selva tight. “You still did something amazing. So for a while, at least, you’ll have to put up with folks calling you… Dragonsong?”

Ella snorted. “That is precisely the name everyone’s using. And you’ll never guess what I—”

“Dragonspear?”

Selva laughed. Meline did too, at the look on Ella’s face. “So how long do we have before they kick us out of the cottage? I imagine Sali would put us up.”

Ella laughed again. “Meline.” She took Meline’s shoulders in her hands. “We saved Oak and Stone. I pulled a spear from a dragon’s throat. Selva bent dragonfire to her will. You punched a dragon in the face! We have numerous assurances that we’ll be put up here for ten thousand years, on the town’s coin, if we want. Though I’d rather head home as soon as I can ride. So… do you want tea and barley cakes?”

Meline’s stomach, waking up after over a month, howled. “Yes,” Meline squeezed Ella’s hand and gave her a kiss, “I want them very much.” She levered herself out of bed, and shuffled around to help Ella, who seemed perfectly comfortable hefting herself onto her crutches. “Anything else happen while I was asleep?”

Ella’s mouth was open when Selva all but shouted, “Elmum widdled on a rock!”

“On a…”

“Stop stealing my news!” Ella laughed, aggressively ruffling Selva’s hair. Selva ducked behind Meline.

“When will we know the result?” There was only one reason any fairy—let alone the bashful Lord of Oakhill—would squat on a rock. A moonstone, Meline guessed.

“As soon as Vaness—” Hooves clattered on the gravel path, and feet hit the ground before the clattering stopped. Selva scampered to open the door. And nearly wore it as Vaness barged in.

“Auntie El! Auntie—” she set a hand on Selva’s shoulder to steady the girl. She was breathing hard, like she’d ridden at full gallop.

“Well?” Ella said. She stood up straight on her good leg.

Vaness didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to. Her nod said everything.

Meline shrieked. She simultaneously threw herself into Ella’s arms, and stopped herself from doing so. The wash was she banged her right knee on the corner of the kitchen table. She laughed and cried tears of wild joy while pounding the table in pain. Ella and Vaness pulled her upright. Through her tears, she saw Ella grinning and crying, too. Meline put a hand on Ella’s belly, taut with laughter, and prayed no more excitement would visit until this little one was born.

[fairypaw]

Zinnias; the thought of an absent friend.

[cinnamogai]

heyo! i know this is a weird request so feel free to decline, but could i have some names related to sardonyx from steven universe in a kind of warrior cats style? sorry if this is too specific or not specific enough! i hope you’re having a lovely day!! :DD

i tried my best with these, i never read warrior cats but i did have a friend in fourth grade who really loved it lol. did watch steven universe though so!! 1/2!! i have to thank @amouragender for giving me advice regarding this request, i had no clue how to start oops.. under the cut!! <3

names..

amberstar

goldlight

honeydawn

nightshine

sleekflight

vixenhaze

rosebeam

sunnysong

nectarmoon

poppyheart

shimmermist

[fireshell]

ALLEGIANCES:

THUNDERCLAN

LEADER ---

Cherrystar -- ginger-and-white she-cat with brilliant blue eyes and an easy to spot scar on her cheek.

DEPUTY ---

Chestnuthaze -- sandy-brown tom with white spots growing on his fur and amber eyes.

MEDICINE CAT ---

Specklemask -- mottled tom with white around his amber eyes; previously of kittypet origin.

WARRIORS ---

Sootstone -- dark gray tom with even darker paws and blue eyes.

Spiderdawn -- black she-cat with red flecks and amber eyes

Toadwhisper -- brown tabby tom with blue eyes

Lionbriar -- fluffy ginger she-cat with orange eyes and excessive fur around her neck and a scarred muzzle

Lightningspark -- black tom with midnight blue eyes and white paws, chest, and waved patterns spreading from his chest.

Copperpoppy -- dark ginger tabby tom with green eyes

Talonslip -- dark brown tabby with a white chest and green eyes

QUEENS ---

Hollowbuzz -- cream colored she-cat with darker brown stripes and black tipped ears and golden eyes

Croakblaze -- orange she-cat with a white throat and paws (mother to Sparkkit, a she-kit; Cypresskit, a tom; and Dapplekit, a she-kit)

Yellowflower -- yellow she-cat with blue eyes (mother to Dovekit, a tom; and Flowerkit, a tom)

Sharpbriar -- brown tabby with yellow eyes (mother to Ferretkit, a she-kit; and Finchkit, a mute tom)

ELDERS ---

Dustfur -- sandy gray tom with yellow eyes

Redraven -- mottled tom with green eyes

Rubbleheart -- stone colored she-cat with amber eyes

Primroseclaw -- black she-cat with red flecks and green eyes

RIVERCLAN

LEADER ---

Fogstar -- black-and-white spotted she-cat with blue eyes

DEPUTY ---

Flutterhawk -- a fluffy cinnamon colored tabby with golden eyes and long whiskers

MEDICINE CATS ---

Nectarmoon -- red-silver tabby she-cat with amber eyes (Apprentice: Turtlepaw)

WARRIORS ---

Waveheart -- wiry chocolate-silver tabby with green eyes

Blazeweed -- chocolate-shaded tortie she-cat with green eyes (apprentice: Loudpaw)

Starlingfeather -- skinny brindled black tortoiseshell she-cat with amber eyes

Poppyspeck -- marmalade tabby tom with yellow eyes (apprentice: Dewpaw)

Twigstem -- brown she-cat with darker brown paws and tail and yellow eyes (Apprentice: Cloverpaw)

Rosebud -- pinkish-cream tom with copper eyes (Apprentice: Frostpaw)

Prickle-eyes -- snow-white she-cat with strange, pink eyes

APPRENTICES ---

Loudpaw -- Lilac tabby tom with light-yellow eyes and massive paws

Frostpaw -- white she-cat with heterochromatic blue-orange eyes

Dewpaw -- blue she-cat with green eyes

Cloverpaw -- black tabby tom with yellow eyes

Turtlepaw -- taupe-brown tom with orange eyes

QUEENS ---

Cricketsong -- fluffy black she-cat with green eyes (mother to Curlkit, a she-kit; Aspenkit, a tom; Barkkit, a she-kit)

Creekshine -- chocolate tortoiseshell with copper eyes

ELDERS ---

Vinedusk -- black-and-white patched tom with cloudy amber eyes

Oatfur -- A brown she-cat with a stump for a tail and amber eyes

WINDCLAN

LEADER ---

Talonstar -- A fluffy, chocolate brown tabby she-tom with blue eyes

DEPUTY ---

Newtwhisker -- A golden tabby she-tom with yellow eyes

MEDICINE CAT ---

Mintheart -- Cream point she-cat with blue eyes (Apprentice: Wrenpaw)

WARRIORS ---

Marigoldwing -- apricot colored she-cat with very faint stripes and orange eyes (Apprentice: Wrenpaw)

Aspentuft -- chestnut brown tom with amber eyes

Hickoryscar -- chocolate smoke she-cat with yellow eyes

Waspflame -- red smoke tom with a flatter muzzle and copper eyes

Applestream -- cinnamon tortoiseshell she-cat with pale orange eyes (Apprentice: Parsleypaw)

Oatflower -- caramel colored fluffy tom with green eyes

Antdusk -- fluffy black she-cat with orange eyes (Apprentice: Plumpaw)

Volebark -- sandy-brown tom with yellow eyes (Apprentice: Sheeppaw)

Grasshaze -- cinnamon calico she-tom with orange eyes

APPRENTICES ---

Wrenpaw -- a short, brown-tabby tom with long ears and green eyes

Parsleypaw -- frosted tabby she-cat with golden eyes

Plumpaw -- brindle tabby tom with yellow eyes

Sheeppaw -- shell cream cameo she-cat with green eyes

QUEENS ---

Ottermoon -- seal lynx she-cat with blue eyes

Junipersnow -- lilac silver tabby with green eyes (mother to Honeykit, a she-kit; and Ivykit, a tom)

Olivesky -- cinnamon colored she-cat with white patches and orange eyes (mother to Maplekit, a she-kit)

ELDERS ---

Snailgorse -- a small, cream tabby tom with spiky fur and green eyes

Mothberry -- brown tabby she-cat with orange eyes and a pink nose

SHADOWCLAN

LEADER ---

Olivestar --- fluffy, black tabby tom with orange eyes\

DEPUTY ---

Patchsnake -- black-and-white she-cat with a muscular frame, long tail, and yellow eyes (Apprentice: Hawkpaw)

MEDICINE CATS ---

Sootsnip -- fluffy gray tom with orange eyes

Stagrunner -- brown tom with white spots and fluffy tail and yellow eyes

WARRIORS ---

Doeskip -- brown she-cat with a cream belly and long ears and golden eyes

Snowshine -- chubby, snow-white tom with yellow eyes

Frogsplash -- tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat with green eyes

Thistlejaw -- black tom with low-grade, tuxedo cat markings on his cheeks/chest and blue eyes (Apprentice: Fernpaw)

Wolfwatcher -- dark brown tabby she-cat with a cream chest/belly and orange eyes

Coyotetuft -- a cream bicolored tom with blue eyes (Apprentice: Strikepaw)

Lightingfrost -- blue lynx point she-cat with blue eyes (Apprentice: Woolypaw)

APPRENTICES ---

Fernpaw --- patched tabby tom with yellow eyes

Strikepaw --- ginger tabby she-cat with cream spots and green eyes

Hawkpaw --- fawn tabby she-tom with white flecks, more noticeable around their cheeks/chin/paws, and light green eyes

Woolypaw --- wiry, light cream tom with copper eyes

QUEENS ---

Thrushbelly --- brown tabby she-cat with black flecks on her belly and yellow eyes (mother to Pebblekit, a she-kit; Quailkit, a tom; and Shadekit, a tom)

Bumblebee --- cream and darker cream-striped she-cat with blue eyes

Sagefoot --- brown she-cat with black paws and hazel eyes

Littlelion --- very small, golden tabby she-cat with golden eyes (mother to Moonkit; a tiny tom)

ELDERS ---

Maggotlichen -- Near furless tom with blue eyes

Pointedmint -- Fluffy yellow she-cat with blue eyes

Sleeksky -- A sleek, skinny blue tom with green eyes and a twisted paw

[ellaofoakhill]

Nectarmoon, Part Two

“Art!” Meline bellowed, springing from the ground to the rooftop he was standing on, eyes skyward. His longbow was enormous; Meline wondered if even Havel could draw it.

“Meline!” His smile showed his pointed teeth, his eyes in the moment they flicked from the sky hard and bright. “We are lighting the decoy fires now, and dousing the rest.”

No need to ruin our night eyes. Meline looked up. “It was never a question of if a dragon ever showed up, was it?” She replied in Low Draconic.

Art barked a laugh, dropping into the same. “They’ll smell hope from almost as far as gold.” The thud of enormous wings shrank away into the sky. “This one’s cautious. Looking at where we’re weak before she strafes.”

“Where’s the mayor?” Meline asked, hefting a fist-sized stone from the pile.

“On his way to the portal,” Art said. “He’s a brave enough one, I give him that; it took the entire house united to write into law that in the event of dragon attack, the head of office must immediately leave through the portal.”

Meline nodded. She could just see it circling against the stars. A common tactic against a fortified town; gradually circle lower and lower, hypnotize the defenders, then twist and fly a straight course, catching them from wild directions before the defenders could shoot. “Vaness and Selva are headed that way now. Maybe they’ll meet him.”

“Helluva night for it,” Art said.

Every light in Oak and Stone went out. And then the decoy fires were lit. Huge, high, and bright, no one would stand anywhere in their light. But they made deep shadows, and hindered the dragon’s sight.

“Oi! Coming in southwest!”

Meline saw it too. No longer streaking across the sky, the shadow merely grew larger. In seconds it’d be on them. Meline readied her stone. She thought she heard someone scream.

It roared.

An avalanche of sound, so deep Meline felt the roof shake, a blast of rage and hate hotter than the hells’ guts. Every instinct told her to run, hide, pray to her ancestors to save them. She held her ground, slowly pulling back her arm, waiting for it to come close.

Others were not so wise. On the edge of her vision, Meline saw stones and arrows loosed too soon, tricked by fear and inexperience. Each wasted shot was one less argument to make the dragon reconsider recent life choices.

It swung skyward. Meline lowered her arms. “What’s it doing?” Out of range of even Art’s longbow, at far too high an angle for the town’s ballistae, Meline saw that enormous head turn toward the portal. Meline remembered the scream, just before the roar. “No.”

“What?” Art was ready to draw back the instant that monster dropped.

“It knows someone’s headed up the mountain!” Meline said, lapsing into Feyish. She dropped her rock, her hands trembling so bad they might fall off. “Art, get the riders kitted up. They need bombs, water, whatever. That thing will light the whole island ablaze!”

“What—”

“Now!” Meline shouted, as the dragon began to wend its way north. She ran for the roof edge.

“Where are you going?”

“To grab a drink!” She jumped.

 Vesi was getting tired. She was so big with calf, how could she run at all? Selva clung to Vernon’s thick neck. Even he must be scared, but he wouldn’t leave his cow. Selva’s harp case bumped against her back. She looked back over her shoulder. Vaness was watching behind them.

They weren’t the only ones going this way. A few critters were too, mice and squirrels, bats, even two foxes. On Vernon’s back, Selva could’ve barely reached their belly fur, but they were running too. And some fey, mostly fairies, a few gnomes and gremlins.

The thudding of those wings high, high above, followed them.

They’d started near the front of the group. Now they were near the back. The trees were thick overhead, when Selva heard another rushing wind.

“Incoming!” Vaness screamed.

Selva looked up. She saw a huge mouth—how was it so close?—bright as the sun.

Then fire.

Selva had no words for it, yellow, orange, red, spilling, rushing, blasting from that white-hot mouth. The closest she came was one time Elmum had told her about a river she’d seen a long, long time ago, so fast it pulled up trees and shattered boulders. Where was she? Where was Elmum? Where was Melmom?

Ancient trees were on fire. Scrub and ferns were gone. Selva’s skin felt like it was gonna blister. She heard popping and cracking. Was it wood? Rocks? Critters? Someone was shrieking. Vaness’s hand clamped over Selva’s mouth. It stopped.

The mouth snapped shut.

Selva looked around. A boulder on the side of the path was a pile of red splinters. The gravel of the path glowed cherry red. Selva couldn’t hear wings.

“Is everyone alright?” A voice bellowed over the flames and the ringing in Selva’s ears. A short, squat fairy rushed over to them. His head was shiny, with a little cloud of dark hair on top of his head. It smoked. His little spectacles were cracked and covered with soot. His clothes were torn and black. Selva saw a shape get up off the ground. Felix must’ve fallen off Vesi’s back.

“We’re fine,” Vaness said. Her voice sounded funny with the ringing.

The fairy’s eyes met Selva’s. He frowned, and shook his head. “Your sister’s cut, probably from that rock.” His voice turned warm as he took off his cloak and tore a strip off. “I can bandage that, but we need to keep moving before the dragon returns.”

He was reaching up to hand the strip to Vaness when a voice, deep like rocks and smoky, and smiling in a way that reminded Selva of her father, spoke.

“You know, one would almost think you were avoiding me.” The gravel crunched. Selva looked up. And up. And up. Into two huge golden eyes with ten black pits. “I can’t imagine why; it is, after all, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

 Ella’s wings were all but spent. Even with their lift and their thrust, flecks of foam bordered Coarser’s mouth. His flanks were slick with sweat, and his breath was growing ragged.

“Can you do this?” she called. After a moment, he grunted, his hide flashing red and gold. He would not slow down.

Ella set a hand on his hot shoulder. “Good. Thank you. I—”

The flap of enormous wings thudded down the trail. Let them be safe. Please let them be—

Golden light flared in the dark forest. Ella felt the heat, saw the glow against the dragon’s belly. The smell of brimstone and woodsmoke hit her like a brick wall. Ella felt something in her crack.

“Go!”

 Meline’s feet struck the earth. It flexed beneath her, shooting her into the sky again, high above the ferns. Her wings were making a difference, but the dragon’s shadow had already disappeared into the redwoods. She prayed to ancestors and spirits that everyone was safe away. So long as the guardian remained on duty within the portal, the dragon could not pass through.

She put a hand to the third phial of fairy tonic on her bandolier. The witch had not been hard to persuade once Meline said who she was. Should she down another? Too much would leave her in a bad, bad state for at least a week; who knew how many would need it tonight. Please just let Ella have them across.

Fire blasted the trees. Meline’s heart stopped. She downed the third phial without feeling it, and pelted on.

 Each smoking nostril could suck Selva in. She smelled rotten eggs and smoke. She would’ve thrown up if those eyes hadn’t held her. Elmum once described a dragon to her. She said even the best words in the worlds couldn’t capture a hint of a hint of its terrible power; she wished Selva never understood that.

Where was she?

“I believe introductions are in order,” that voice said, dragging Selva like a hook in a fish’s lip. Selva’s ears knew the dragon was speaking another tongue, but she understood. “It would be the height of ill manners, after all, to not know the names of my subjects.” That hung on the air above the spreading flames. “As beings of rather lower station than myself, I think it appropriate that you speak first, dear hearts.”

Selva opened her mouth.

“No one,” Felix said, pulling back his shoulders and taking his bow, “is lord o’er me.”

Those eyes looked away; Selva could breathe again. All ten pupils focused on Felix. The dragon could crush him with one toe. Selva saw coils and coils of thick muscle and copper scales bigger than shields that rippled in the firelight. She saw glittering jewels, and gold and silver on its belly. As it focused on Felix, two wings, tight against its sides, began to open, wider and wider, flushing the colour of blood. Selva had seen tattoos on the drakles and fey in Oak and Stone, but drawn across those wings…

Selva leaned over Vernon’s side and threw up.

“I’ve heard tell of the defiant few,” the dragon said, its head, big enough to swallow a fox, dropping to Felix’s level, “who do not recognize their superiors. I think that quite rude, don’t you?”

“I’d know my superirs if I saw ‘em,” Felix said. Selva heard his voice tremble. “An’ there’s more ‘n’ just me’d stand up t’ th’ likes o’ you.”

The lips of that mouth pulled back. Teeth taller than Felix shone glossy white. “Little man,” the dragon said, “do you think me a bully? A braggart? A leech? You have me wrong. There are dragons on Nidd who would crush this town under heel. I only wish to establish a home for myself. High up the mountain, on one of its flanks. A fine vantage point from which to spot trouble on the horizon.” The dragon’s pupils grew, wider and wider. Selva could feel their pull. Why was she scared of such a deep, soothing voice? “If I lay claim here, I can protect you all from the villains among my noble kind. I would need no food, as I am a fine hunter, and the shoals and reefs about these islands are rich. All I would ask—”

“Are you quite finished?”

Ten pupils locked onto the fairy who tore his cloak to bandage Selva’s head. They narrowed to pinpoints. Selva’s heart pounded.

“You dare interrupt?” Coils twisted about, forelegs like tree trunks crashing in front of the fairy. The dragon snorted, blasting smoke and cinders. “Arrogant fool! I seek to help—”

“Spare us your lies, beast!” he spat, looking over his spectacles. “Many of ours have fled the rule of your kind, crushed by your tithes and scornful promises. We know how dragons dominate the weak and manipulate the brave. Let me guess, you demand gold and silver at least equal that we give to the sea serpents for permission to fish their oceans?”

“Ha!” That bark of laughter was so like her father’s Selva whimpered. Vaness hugged her closer. “You deal with those vipers? For a bit of fish? All that wealth at the bottom of the ocean?”

“Those are their schools of fish, which they tend, which they need to eat and live,” the fairy said, standing taller. “It is only right we pay them for what we take. And they have proven time and again that they deal fairly with us, will even steer our ships to safe harbour in a storm. I have never once heard of a dragon doing the same.”

The dragon’s pupils grew so big one of them could swallow Selva whole. She was almost pulled to the ground. How could that little fairy still be standing there? “I came here, hoping of warm welcome and honour, thinking maybe, in one small corner of the world, the smallfolk would possess a trifle of sense. I chose to come peacefully, to show you my claims of strength were not idle boasts, to give you the chance to house me willingly. I shall establish my hoard here, with your leave or no. But the ungrateful will not be spared my breath.”

“Then don’t spare me.” The fairy held out his arms. He was all alone. Even under those eyes Selva knew he wouldn’t give.

The dragon looked surprised. Vaness screamed, tried to haul Selva with her out of Vernon’s saddle. Coils wrapped the both of them, pulling them into the air. Selva could hardly breathe.

“Are you so certain,” that voice said, and Selva heard the teeth in it, “that you will not budge? Even if children die by your stubbornness? By your arrogance?” Selva felt Vaness’s hand wriggling.

“What choice is that?” the fairy said, his voice cracking. “I’ve no guarantee you won’t crush them anyway. And how many more children will starve, and die, and live in rags because we submit now?”

“Is that a refusal?” Air rushed past Selva’s face. One huge eye was all she could see. The coils were nothing. That gaze was a mountain. “Children. This callous fool reckons you worthless. I would have spared you.” The coils tightened.

Selva couldn’t scream, or even cry. Vaness groaned, wriggling and pushing.

“See the price of defiance, f—” Silver flashed in front of Selva’s eyes. Vaness stabbed her knife deep between two scales. The dragon screeched. Its tail jumped, and Selva sucked in air as they slid free. She heard a twang. She and Vaness hit Vernon’s broad back with a thump that knocked the wind back out of her. The dragon swept its tail across the ground. Selva heard a curse, and saw Felix fly through the air. He hit a redwood trunk with a thud.

“How dare you!” The dragon roared, its mouth aglow, eyes wild, pupils shrunk to pinpricks. The death tattooed on its wings twitched as it gathered itself.

The most beautiful sound Selva had ever heard thrummed in her ear. A horn, clear and sweet and brave. She’d know it if she lived to be a million. She forced herself to breathe.

“Elmum!”

 As Coarser thundered up the path, and she saw tiny shapes clustered about the feet of her worst night terror, Ella realized she’d made one small, crucial miscalculation: she was as heavily armed as a dodo. Not, she supposed as she put horn to lips one last time, that even her longest pike would be much use.

The dragon was howling like it had stepped on a nail. It stopped when it heard the horn. A head as assailable as a cliff face snapped toward her.

“I’ve got it from here,” Ella said, “take Selva and Vaness and go for the portal.” She sprang from Coarser’s back as he immediately came to a stop. Another worry. Would he even be able to run?

That thought was driven from Ella’s mind. A wall of anger struck her. She looked straight ahead. She did not meet those eyes. The teeth, claws, and nigh-impenetrable scales combined were marginally better.

“Come you to face me, brave hero?” a scornful chuckle rumbled through the ground. “A brave one indeed. No armour? No lance? Not even a noble steed?”

Ella swallowed. She took a step forward. “My steed knew more of nobility in his first moment than you will in your last. As for armour and lance… why would I need them?” She made her voice as casual as possible. Which was not very.

A pause. “I suppose they might stick in the throat.” That titanic head lowered. Ella dropped her eyes. “That’s the first consideration your countrymen have shown me.”

Ella shook her head. “I am not of Oak and Stone, dragon.”

“That would explain that. Yet your manners are flawed, my dear.” The dragon’s voice was a dry hiss. “It is common courtesy to look your host in the eye. At least among the civilized.”

Had she been fresh, and her heart not wrung with worry, Ella might not have been goaded. The hypocrisy of this beast claiming civility snapped something. Ella glared into those eyes, brow furrowed, mouth a grim snarl.

“Elm—”

“Hush, child.” Ella willed Coarser to get her gone, already.

The dragon curled its neck back, its ten pupils narrowing. “I see.” It blasted smoke from its nostrils. Ella swept it away with her wings. “You are marked.”

Ella took another step forward. “Kulkarax assailed Fey long ago. He burned, and plundered, and murdered for eight thousand years.” Ella steeled herself. “We put out his eyes and threw him into the sea in chains.”

The dragon’s lips curled back. “You met his gaze and were not broken.”

Ella shook her head. “I remade myself.” She took another step. “Your gaze is a spring breeze compared to his.” Another; she was under that maw, now. Ella could’ve counted individual coins and goblets on the dragon’s neck. “I will not break again, worm.”

The dragon’s pupils filled its entire eye. “It is a tremendous honour for a dragon to name herself to you before you die.” She drew herself up, and up, and up, swelling with indignation. “I am Chultaroth!”

In the furthest back of her mind, Ella wondered at her lack of fear. As that neck, wider than a tree-trunk, came down on her. As she raised her arms and spoke a word of power she did not hear herself say. As the weight of sky and stars fell upon her shoulders. As her hands closed about an object, glued fast to Chultaroth’s neck in the hardened slime of her underbelly, that roused a chuckle of bitter irony. The only fear she felt, as she was flattened beneath heat and darkness, was a muffled scream that would not stop.

“Elmum!”

[ellaofoakhill]

Nectarmoon, Part One

Meline woke to sounds of retching from the next room. It stopped, she heard the hand-pump, then gargling and spitting. Finally the soft pad of Ella’s feet as she stole around the bed and climbed back under the covers. After a moment, Meline rolled over, draping an arm over Ella’s waist. She pushed her face into Ella’s back just behind her shoulder blade.

“Didn’t wake you, did I?” Ella asked.

“’T’s not a problem.” Meline gave her a squeeze. “Let’s go back to sleep.” The days in Oak and Stone were hot this time of year, even with shutters drawn and doors firmly shut to keep out the light. “We’ve a big night ahead.” But as she dozed her way back to sleep, a thought occurred to Meline…

“Are you feeling okay, Auntie El?” Vaness asked as they ate breakfast. The sun was setting. Their little cottage faced west, offering a perfect view of the harbour and ocean. Beneath them was a sheltered cove, about which clustered several other nectarmoon cottages. They had already fished and dove in the pool, turning up shrimps and small fish and shellfish. Selva had to be told repeatedly to wait after eating before she could swim. Ella had to wait almost until lunch. Coarser, Vesi, and Vernon happily waded in the shallows with her, munching on the occasional strand of seaweed.

Ella gave her niece a questioning look. “Did you hear yesterday?”

“And the day before,” Vaness said, “and the day before that.”

“Sorry. I think I’m a bit sick, is all,” Ella said with a shrug. “It happens to everyone, after all.” As Meline sat with tea kettle in hand, Ella saw her eyes widen, and her mouth slacken. Ella caught her eye, and raised her eyebrows. Meline gave a mysterious little smile, and shook her head.

“You two are going out in the dinghy, right?” Vaness said as she ate. Fruit was rare on Nidd, but an evening salad of fiddleheads mixed with berries much like juniper, along with a thick meal of pine seeds and milk—or water, Ella found it sat better with her stomach—was satisfying. Along with a few rashers of dragonfly.

“There’s a nice little spot I haven’t visited in ages just offshore,” Meline said, “so I thought we’d make a night of it.” Again with the smile. “What do you two have planned?”

“Swimming!” Selva threw her hands in the air.

Ella bit back a snort. “What else?” she said. “There’s lots to see. Little hidden places on the mountain, different stores and restaurants in town. And don’t forget your harping!”

Selva’s eyes widened. “Oh yeah!”

Vaness chuckled. “I’m sure we’ll find lots to do.” Ella gave her a thankful smile. She was glad Vaness had decided to stay after the wedding; Selva grew more curious by the day, and every extra eye kept on her was a helpful one.

They finished breakfast shortly thereafter. Vaness and Selva were taking a short walk before swimming, with Vernon, Vesi, and Coarser accompanying them. Hugs and kisses given, farewells said, and Ella took Meline’s hand as they headed for the boat, loaded up for a quiet night of fishing.

 Meline almost passed her old fishing spot. The shore had changed over the millennia, and it was only by the spike of red rock jutting out of the waves that she recognized it. If she looked hard, she could spot the shoal below; it only poked above water at the double neap tide. They dropped anchor, and Meline began setting lure to line.

“How long has it been since you last fished?” Ella asked. She was watching ships enter and leave the harbour.

“Some centuries,” Meline said. “Sali gets seasick in a bathtub, and Art… uh, it’s less fishing and more hunting for him, so my main fishing buddy was Celia. It… lost its lustre after she died.” She handed Ella a rod. “Shall we see if you can rekindle the spark?”

Ella smiled as she took the rod. She hooked the line under one finger, wound up, and cast off the port side, the line hissing as the spool unwound. Meline’s was off the starboard shortly thereafter. They sat back-to-back. For a while, there was no sound but pterosaurs and waves on the distant beach.

“How’s your stomach?” Meline asked, slowly reeling in her line. Her glowing bobber was just visible as it rose and dipped with each swell.

“Believe it or not, the boat actually soothes it,” Ella said, “like being rocked in a cradle.”

Interesting choice of words. “How’s the rest of you feeling?”

“Hmmm…” Meline heard the slow click of Ella’s reel. “I find myself eating more than usual,” she said. “…and…”

“Yes?”

“You’re wearing your witch’s hat now, yes?”

“Yes.”

Ella chuckled. “You know how Selva’s started running at me with a hug first thing in the evening?”

“Hard to forget when she missed last night and ploughed into the counter.” Meline shook her head; Selva was lucky she just got a swallow’s egg, and not stitches.

“The last time she connected,” Ella said, “she hit me in the chest, and it hurt.”

That tracks. “Question.”

“Ask away, Mel.”

“When was the last time you bled?”

There was a pregnant pause. Even the pterosaurs quieted. With anticipation?

“You mean…”

“I do.”

Meline heard Ella scratch her head. “I mean, it’s not abnormal for my cycle to jump around… but this is a longer break than usual…”

“How long?” Meline pressed.

Ella sighed. “Six months? Ish?”

Right around the time we proposed, Meline thought. Makes sense.

“Do you have a test I can take?” Ella asked. The best word to describe her tone would be “stunned”.

“Not on me,” Meline said, “though I know someone in town we can get the potion from. When we get back—” Meline pitched sideways. Ella was on top of her, forcing her into the bottom of the boat. “Ella, what—”

“Shhh!” Ella had thrown her hood up. Her eyes were wide, unfocused; she was listening. There was only the waves. Meline tensed with understanding. There was only the sound of the waves.

A thud shook the air. Out over the ocean. Again, closer. Closer. Meline twisted so she could see, and looked up at the night sky, bright with stars and three moons. Her flesh froze.

To the northwest, near the horizon, a dark shape blocked out the stars. It was growing. Larger with every rise and fall of a colossal pair of wings. How could something so huge move so fast?

“Ella?” Meline shook her. “Ella! We need to warn the town. We need to warn them now!”

Ella didn’t move. “How? We’ll never make it in time.”

“Your horn!” Meline pushed Ella off her, practically pulling it from around her neck. “Blow it! Sound the alarm! Even a minute could save lives!”

“Not send people into a blind panic?” Ella’s complexion was ashen.

“There are shelters underground, remember? They’ll know what to do! Hurry!” Meline barely kept from shouting.

The fear never left Ella’s eyes, but she furrowed her brow, and stood. They felt the gale of the dragon’s passage; any lower and its tail would’ve grazed the rock. Ella murmured words of power, layered one over the other. Her horn gently glowed. She took an enormous breath, swelling with the effort. The moment her lips touched the mouthpiece, her horn flashed whiter than lightning.

Its blast was dread and impending massacre, so loud and raw Meline had to cover her ears to keep from leaping over the side. The dragon flew on, straight for Oak and Stone.

Ella was sweating by the time she lowered the horn. Her fear-scent was palpable. “They’re warned. Drakles on the mainland probably heard that.”

Meline lowered her hands. “I should say so.” She gave herself a shake. “We need a plan. Everyone who can’t fight needs to find a safe place while we drive this thing off.”

Ella looked at her like she’d said Oakhill was an ash tree. “You think anything short of heavens or hells can stop that monster?”

“Yes.” Meline’s hands were shaking. “This town is not submitting to the likes of a sootmouth. Now start rowing!” Meline contradicted her order by grabbing both paddles and hauling on them. The boat lurched as the anchor caught. She swore, almost shoved Ella out of her way, and started pulling up the anchor. Ella’s hands closed over hers. “Let go!”

“Meline.” Ella’s voice sounded much steadier. “We are not going to make it ashore quick enough if we take the boat.”

“Then what do you suggest!” Meline rounded on Ella. And remembered they’d gotten married just seven nights ago.

Ella’s wing covers spread wide, crystalline silver in the moonlight, her wings panes of glass. Though her eyes were deathly serious, the tiniest smile played at the corners of her mouth.

“We have these wings for a year and a day,” Ella said. She held out her hand. “Shall we use them?”

Meline’s were already spreading as she took it. “Go find Selva and Vaness and the animals,” she said. “I’ll help with the defense.”

“But—”

“You’re probably pregnant with our child.” Meline would not be argued with. “You are plainly terrified of dragons—”

“—name me one non-dragon who isn’t—”

“—and will not be useful against this foe. Get the girls and the animals safe home.”

They locked eyes. “I’m coming back once they’re safe.” Ella’s voice was hard. “I am not raising our child without you.”

Ella rarely insisted on anything. Meline would have more success pulling the moons from the sky than changing Ella’s mind.

“Fine.” She grabbed Ella by her shirt and pulled her into a kiss that cracked their teeth together. She savoured the smell of Ella’s hair and the feel of her hands as they crushed her waist.

They pulled apart, and jumped into the air, beating their wings. Ella flew for the cottage. Meline made a beeline for the town.

The dragon would likely be there already.

 Selva felt like she was stuck in honey. Everything was so far away, even Vernon, and she was sitting on his back. Vaness led, Vesi followed. Coarser… went to find Elmum? That scream ripped the world, and everyone in town was rushing, and he was gone.

“Vaness, what is it?” Selva had to shout.

“I don’t know,” Vaness said. Now they were running out of town, the crowd was thinner. Vernon growled and shook his head, and everyone got out of the way.

“Wee lass!” Selva knew that voice. She whipped around. Felix made his way through the crowd. He had his axe. “Where y’headed?”

“The portal,” Vaness said. “Auntie Ella said we should head home if the town were attacked. Can you lead us?”

Felix looked back and forth between them and the town. He stepped back. His axe almost fell out of his hands. Selva looked.

A huge thing blocked out the stars. Its wings came down. Thud. The lights of the town fell on two wings like a bat’s, and a glittering belly.

“Run!” Felix bellowed over the sound. “Folla me!” Selva turned around as Vernon lowered his head and lifted Vaness so she slid onto his back in front of Selva. Vesi surged forward and did the same to Felix. Her scream ripped through the night as they ran up the path.

Selva looked back once. She wished she hadn’t. A roar so big and deep and hungry she thought the islands must be scared tore everything. Even so far away, Selva saw two glittering eyes in the sky, catching the light from below. They saw her.

 Ella’s wings were tiring. She had flown non-stop to their cottage, sounding her horn again and again. Everyone on both islands would know something was wrong. Meline said they had hiding places and defences. Ella had never prayed so hard in her life that they would hold. She alighted at the cottage door. No one was there. The lights were out. Selva and Vaness had likely been in town anyway.

Ella turned toward Oak and Stone. Every instinct screamed at her to run. She knew what a dragon could do. Fire, claws, insatiable greed, and hunger were far from the worst: long ago, she had looked a dragon in the eye.

Fear, terror, grief, and despair hauled from the depths of her soul, her mind’s eye, twisted, forced open so all it could do was watch, nothing in her strong enough to look away. Was that why people fascinated her? Many of them had died fighting dragons, and been broken by them. But there were many heroes among them who had looked a dragon in the eye undaunted, could even raise sword or lance and thrust it into that vitriolic heart. After twenty thousand years, could she hold even a candle of a candle to that?

The thunder of hooves jarred her from her thoughts. Coarser trotted around the bend in the path.

“You came from Selva?”

He nodded, breathing lightly.

“How far?”

He did not know, thoughts and feelings a maelstrom across his hide. He spun on the spot and stamped. Ella almost smiled. She strode to his head, took it in both hands. “I’ll lighten your load as best I can, old friend. But you need to run like the hells’ whitest demons are snapping at your hocks.” She pressed her forehead to his. “Can you do that?”

His snort was divine fire. Ella vaulted into the saddle. “Let this be the night we ride into battle together!” Coarser started into a walk, then a trot. As he broke into a canter, Ella spread her elytra, her wings fanning wide. She raised her horn, poured her anger, her desperation, her fear for her daughter’s life into her heart and throat.

As she gave voice, Coarser screamed, his fury and hers meeting, even as a roar that shook land and sea rent the night. But Ella set her brow, raised herself in the saddle. Not this time.

Her wings thrummed. Coarser stretched longer with every stride. Into the fire, into the ruin of that dread shadow over town.

“Fly, my valiant boy!” Coarser roared, his stride growing still longer.

She would not falter again.

[ellaofoakhill]

The Ice Cream Pail

Meline woke with a stretch and a groan. It was the last afternoon of September. She dressed, opened the kitchen window, had a quick breakfast of timothy bread and a saskatoon with tea, and gathered her medicine bag, her staff, and her mantle, along with her pack. Tonight was a gathering night.

In the time between times, after sunset but before the first star, Meline whistled a tune and opened her door. And jumped back with a start.

Fetched up against her door was an ice cream pail. It was upside down, and poking from beneath it was a plastic bag. It was the bag, snapping in the breeze, that made Meline jump back. It would’ve caught her full in the face if she hadn’t moved. As it was, the bag did touch her braid. The smell of burning hair filled the room, and Meline was seized with a fit of coughing.

Once she recovered, Meline used the tip of her staff to shut the door. A bit of bag still poked in under the jamb, but Meline was not about to open the door again. She cut off the smoking tip of her hair.

“Okay,” she said to herself, “I have a plastic bag and ice cream pail sitting over my front door, which will burn me down to nothing if I touch them. No problem. I’ll just stroll out my back door and go get help!”

She opened her back door and stared at the enormous plastic bag sitting over it. It had cuts and holes in it, and out of these poked more plastic bags. It wasn’t directly in front of the door, at least, but the narrow stair leading up from Meline’s back step left no way around it. Even in the gentle breeze, the waving, snapping bits of plastic would be sure to strike her.

Meline took a deep breath. Maybe tonight was not going to be a gathering night.

She went to her bedroom window and started piling furniture. Once her room was in complete disarray—it had taken a long time to get the bed, the dresser, and her bookshelves to cooperate—she climbed up on her dresser and tried the window. It slid open. Grinning to herself, she ducked her head through, then her shoulders. Chest and waist just slipped through, and then Meline’s hips caught. She scraped and pulled, but the moss kept breaking just as she got purchase. She looked back over her shoulder. No, she thought to herself, I’d never make it out this window any time after my six hundredth birthday.

After some wriggling and pushing, and more cursing than many fey would expect of her, Meline tumbled back into her room, whacking her skull against the headboard of her bed. Rubbing the sparrow’s egg swiftly making itself known, she went to her kitchen. She pulled out her measuring string. Her hips gave her no chance against the kitchen window.

Meline took a few deep breaths. “My front and back doors are blocked. I cannot escape through my windows. I blocked my cellar door last autumn with a rock bigger than Havel could lift, and it’s outside, where I can’t touch it, so my magic’s out.”

It was getting dark. Meline spoke a word of power, and her wall crystals glowed to life. She blinked, and looked back at them.

She hopped down from the window, and took out a small chrysoprase box. She lifted the tarnished silver clasp, and flipped up the lid. On the bottom of the lid was a crystal mirror. In the box was a series of square glass beads. Each bead had a letter in the Feyish script embossed in it.

She spoke a word of power, and the mirror flashed to life. Meline saw she had sixty-four unwatched messages. With one finger Meline tapped the letters that spelled Ella’s name. Shot in the dark.

“Fairy not found.” Meline supposed, since they’d been exchanging letters for almost three months, it should be unsurprising that Ella didn’t have a scrying mirror.

Evelyn was next on the list. The mirror crackled, and then Evelyn appeared in the mirror.

“Hi, Evelyn, it’s—”

“Hello, this is Evelyn and Vedris of Pondside. We’re out at Oak and Stone just now, so if you wouldn’t mind leaving a short message, we’ll get back to you soon.” A thought seemed to occur to the Evelyn in the mirror. “Oh, if this is Archie, we reached an accord with the crayfish. And Meline, we’ll be expecting you for lunch night after the first quarter. Ta-ta!”

Meline bit her tongue to keep from cursing. When the mirror chimed, she said, “Evelyn, it’s Meline. I have an emergency, and can’t get out of my house. If you could recruit a stoat or a fox, or even a couple leopard frogs to come help, I’d be very grateful. I hope you’re well, and you get back very soon.” She closed the box, waited a moment, and re-opened it.

Her parents were much too far away to be of any help. Felix was at a concert in Oak and Stone. Gillian was visiting her in-laws until the first quarter. Julian was on his nectarmoon—Meline remembered after scrying she’d attended the wedding. Millie was actually home. She was also forty thousand years old, mostly deaf, and altogether unable to do anything herself to help. She said she’d try to flag down a nice bunny, though. Meline thanked her, and patiently explained that rabbits did not like being called bunnies, and never had, and it hadn’t been acceptable to call them that for over three thousand years. She wasn’t sure how much Millie heard and how much she pretended not to hear.

So that was every fairy Meline knew and trusted outside Oak and Stone. The fluttering plastic under her door mocked her.

She went back to her kitchen window. She laid a hand on the bare earth. She spoke a word of power, felt it ripple in the ground. She took a deep breath. And howled at the top of her lungs. “Is there anyone who can help me? I’m trapped in my house!”

How could the normally sweet sound of cricket song, she wondered, suddenly become so grating? The moon started to rise.

A quarter of an hour later, she did the same again. And then again. And again. By the fifth time, she didn’t care what she said, if someone would just pay attention. Just as she finished a stirring tirade which would’ve turned her father’s face permanently red, and stalked away from the window, she heard a flap. She turned back, and flushed. A red bat was crouched by her window with a broad grin.

“I was just flapping past, dear,” she said, wiggling her impressive ears, “looking for moths, and couldn’t help but overhear. What was that you said about the wood-rasp and the cricket strigil?”

Meline’s face could’ve boiled granite. “Nothing important!”

“Oh, well, have a fine night, then!”

Meline’s hand shot out. “Wait!” The bat stopped and turned around. “Alright,” Meline said, “what’s your name?”

The bat pricked up. She swung her impressive wing around in a tottery bow. “Maia Squeak, at your service.”

Meline gave a perfunctory curtsy. “I’m Meline of Wild Rose. If you deliver a message for me, I can give you four cutworms for your trouble.”            “Ooh!” Maia squeaked. “The babes do love their cutworms! What’s the message?”

“Uh… give me a moment?”

“For four cutworms I’ll wait an hour,” Maia said as Meline dashed to her cupboard and pulled out an envelope and a sheet of mothwing parchment. She took a quill and wrote:

 Ella,

There’s a plastic pail over my front door, and a plastic bag blocking the back. I can’t get out of my house. I’ve scryed everyone I know. Help will likely not come until late tonight at the earliest. I’m okay, but please come quickly. I l

 Meline.

 She threw the letter in the envelope the instant the ink was dry, addressed the envelope, and gave it to Maia. “Take that to Ella of Oakhill,” she said. “She lives in the oak by the house in the yard on the far side of the pasture. Please hurry.”

Maia nodded her head. She crouched, adjusted her grip on the letter, and sprang forward, digging her wrists into the ground. Her long arms extended, vaulting her into the air, and with a powerful flap—Meline’s shutters banged against the wall—she was a black spot in the night sky.

 Meline started reading, and gave that up. There was nothing she could cook that didn’t need her to gather ingredients. She played solitaire, and Fey’s Bend. She cleaned her kitchen, the living room, and the dining area. She even tried to rearrange her bedroom furniture.

The night was old when she sat at the table, poured herself a goblet of rosehip wine, and munched on a honey biscuit. She glared at the plastic poking out from under her front door.

“I hope Ella gets here soon,” she said, to hear someone talk. “She’ll probably bring Coarser, and Havel.” She chuckled to herself. “He’ll make someone very happy someday.”

Meline mulled her half-finished goblet. “Ella’s not impossible to read, but hard enough. Is that how nobles are? Different manners, different sensibilities?” She sipped. “It’s been nice, you know? Having someone to talk to, who clearly wants to talk to me. We’re really different—she’s a lord, I’m a witch, she works metal, I harvest the fruits of the earth, she’s tall and strong and has the ageless beauty of a glacier lake and I… can’t squeeze out my bedroom window.” She swished her wine. “So… why do I think she loves me back?”

Still thinking along these lines, Meline was starting on her second goblet when a sound rolled through the window that stopped her heart.

Ella’s horn. Just on the edge of hearing, but she’d recognize it anywhere. Meline rushed to the door and flung it open.

The bag flapped up and snagged on her wrist. She cursed, wrenching her hand back and slamming the door. Her hand turned angrily red in seconds, and blisters started rising on the last two fingers.

The horn sounded again as Meline, cradling her hand, grabbed a pot from her kitchen. The redness was spreading. It’d be above her elbow in minutes if she didn’t do something. She

dumped six cups of fine clay and one of charcoal in the pot, and added the last of her water. She mixed them until the consistency was even.

She pulled out a small sealed jar labelled “Fairy Tonic”. She unscrewed the lid—the pain grew only slightly more agonizing—and, with a dropper, squeezed three drops on her tongue.

She swallowed, and resealed the jar. Then she immersed her hand in the clay, and let out a sigh. Her hand only felt like someone was burning it.

She allowed herself a moment to savour the relief before she began speaking. Words of power flowed from her tongue. As the lights around the room dimmed, the clay began to glow. Softly at first, but as Meline layered word upon word, it glowed brighter, until it blazed like a white sun.

The air thrummed. Meline was so focused she didn’t notice the third horn blast, much closer, or Maia land outside her window, beady eyes wide with wonder.

Meline took a deepest breath, spoke one final word, and the magic ended. The clay went out, and the only light in Wild Rose shone in through the windows.

Meline put a hand on the worktable to steady herself. Even with the tonic, she was dead on her feet. She slid her hand out of the clay, which crumbled as she moved. It was bone-dry and steaming. She felt her hand. It was slightly warm, and had the waxy, bumpy texture of burnt skin. She’d keep an eye on it the next few nights, but the poison had likely been drawn out.

“Meline!” She looked up at the window. Maia, whom she’d just realized was there, hopped aside as Ella came into view. “Are you alright?”

“You came.”

Ella grinned. “Of course I came! Now are you alright?”

Meline nodded. “Yeah.” She’d never let me live it down if I tell her how this happened. “There’s the ice cream pail out front, and another bag at the back door. The pail’s got a bag stuck under it.”

“I’ll see to them,” Ella said, “In the meantime, stay put. Havel’s coming behind with the rest of the gear.”

Meline waited by the front door. There was a tapping and a hammering, with muffled curses. Plastic scraped against wood and earth. Meline saw the plastic under her door draw tight. She eased the door open, and it slid out and away. She closed the door again.

After a short pause, there was a knock. Meline opened. She rushed forward as Ella lowered her head. Her forehead banged against Ella’s helmet. Their stifled curses turned to laughter.

Then Meline’s arms were around Ella, and Ella’s were cradling her, her fingers stroking Meline’s hair.

They held each other for a moment. “Havel is going to be disappointed he couldn’t help rescue me, I think,” Meline said, still chuckling.

“Havel will be happy enough to help haul away this trash,” Ella said.

Meline was crying. The wet spot by her ear suggested Ella was likewise.

Ella spoke so gentle and quiet Meline would’ve missed it if her mouth hadn’t been so close.

“I love you. Please don’t scare me like that again.”

“No promises,” Meline said. They both chuckled, a bit wetly. Meline turned her head, raised Ella’s visor, and kissed her. “I love you too.”

[ellaofoakhill]

Thirteen Months, Part One

“What have we got?” Meline said as Vaness came into the kitchen carrying the mailbag. Selva looked up, as did Ella. Havel was pouring himself a cup of milk. Little Andru was asleep in the scarf about Ella’s chest.

“There’s a letter from home,” Vaness said, setting it in her spot, “a flyer for a new stall down at the Party Grounds, a tax form for Auntie El, and…” Meline heard a jingle as Vaness pulled out a box wrapped in glittering red paper, “… this?”

Meline’s hands started to tremble. Her eyes snapped to Ella as Vaness handed her the box. It fit in her palm. She undid the ribbon, peeled the paper back, opened the box, and pulled out a silver sleighbell.

“What’s…” Meline heard the floor creak as Havel turned around. He said a word she’d never expected of him.

Vaness threw the crumpled-up mailbag at him. “Don’t curse in front of Selva and the baby! Now what’s the bell mean?”

Meline pulled her eyes away from it. “This is a warning from Sand Nidollas.” She looked up at Vaness’s blanching face. Everyone knew his story. “We have thirteen months before Dramfa visits these lands with his fifteen-hundred-year feud.”

“… Oh.” Vaness apologetically looked around the table. “He doesn’t come to Fey.”

Ella shook her head, setting one hand on Andru’s head. “He wouldn’t. He is a person, after all; warped and shrunken, but he’s no power beyond Gaea.” She looked back down at the bell. “His vendetta with Nikolas is all that binds him. If Krambas were to kill his former friend—”

“—Nothing less than a Fey host could stop him,” Meline said. She shook her head. “In all my years I’ve never been anywhere close to their battleground.”

“And now we fight on it,” Ella said.

“What!” four voices said, with varying mixes of surprise and anger.

Ella shrugged. “What choice do we have?”

“Leaving is out of the question?” Vaness said.

“I am the seat of fey power here,” Ella said. “If I am gone, the people can be used as hostages. So long as I’ve a single live toe on my estate, Krambas can’t so much as enter their home.”

“So you have to fight.” Havel’s tone was flat. Meline glanced at him. That Ella had almost died on their nectarmoon, and he’d no idea anything even happened had torn at him. And if any force in the worlds was more dangerous than a dragon...

“If I don’t, he will tear Oakhill down looking for me,” Ella said. “I will meet him on a field of my choosing.” She took a deep breath. “I shall consider with great care where that might be. If I can hold him off, weaken him even a little, until Nikolas comes, we can banish him for another year.”

Meline’s hands stopped trembling. “What’s this ‘I’ business?” There must’ve been something dangerous in her tone; she had Ella’s undivided attention. “Do you think I’ll let you fight alone?”

Elle looked like she was about to say something stupid that she’d immediately regret. “The Revolution you fought in was ten thousand years ago.”

Yup. “Havel? Vaness? Would you take Selva and Andru and play with them for a bit?”

“But this is really important!” Selva said as Vaness picked her up, “and what’d that word mean?” Meline waited until they were gone. “I won’t lose my wife because I wasn’t there.”

“I’ve trained for combat all my life,” Ella said. Her tone sounded like she was about to pull a thorn from an infected wound. “When was the last time you trained?”

“Tomorrow.” Meline latched onto Ella’s momentary confusion. “I know I’m old and fat. But if you think I can’t whip myself into some shape other than round, I will happily prove you wrong. Besides, you’re still recovering from having Andru.”

Ella raised her eyebrows. “First, who has called you old and fat? I have words for them.” Her tone was glacial. “Second… are you suggesting we get back in shape together?”

Say again? “… Say again?”

Ella stood. “I’m not at my best just now. Neither, from what you’ve said, are you. Krambas will be here in thirteen months.” Her mouth set in a hard line. “The idea of losing you terrifies me. But I don’t want to leave you or Selva or Andru, either, and you will all be in danger if he kills me. The best way to keep either from happening, then, is to take every boon I can.” She reached out a hand to Meline. “So please, Mel… won’t you pump some bronze with me?”

A reflexive terror had shot down Meline’s spine at the idea of Ella dying. Now Ella had one good idea. Meline took her hand. “I will do a good deal more than that, El…”

 My Precious Teacher,

I pray this letter finds you well, and you have overcome the illness which beset you last you wrote.

I write out of great need beyond my spiritual endeavours. Thirteen months hence, I must face Krambas, the person possessed by the Goat-Footed One. I accept that I may die attempting to subdue him. But I shall do all in my power to live, to continue along the spiritual path I walk under your tutelage.

I ask your help. I know your age limits you; the lives of gremlins are too short. If you can, I entreat you, my guiding light, to stand with me against this darkness. I am young, and weak, and my worldly strength alone will not defeat this creature who has chosen down the centuries to hurt and steal and kill.

Please lend me your strength, you whom even the powers above welcome as a great hero, you who cast the light of compassion and wisdom.

Send me your answer with all haste. Whether you come or not, I thank you for your gifts of guidance past. May your nights be warm and calm, the moon beneath your feet shine kindly, and every living being know your peerless grace.

Your humble student,

Ella of Oakhill

P.S. The cookies are Meline’s. She sends her warmest regards. Please enjoy them.

 Meline unlocked the door to the armoury, and flipped on the light. Not that she needed to; there was lots of light from the window.

Immaculate but spare, it was a room Ella spent considerable time in, Meline hardly any. The floor and walls were smooth and flat. Weights and striking boards and pads were spaced about the room. On the far wall were high copper doors locked with Ella’s fairy key; all the weapons of Oakhill in one spot. The interior of that room was lined with copper Ella had pounded spells of staying into; dragonfire would hardly warm them.

Meline wore short pants and a chemise briefer than she was comfortable wearing in front of anyone but Ella. Under it she wore a garment Ella had adapted from people a short while ago, and professed it made hard, fast movement far more comfortable for women. It couldn’t hurt.

She tied back her hair, took a sip from her pot of water, and began to warm up. She’d already been up and down the stairs once—the stitch in her side came sooner than she liked—and now walked through the routine Felix had taught her.

Then came the weights. Some looked like clubs, but swung slowly in the correct manner, they offered an excellent challenge. Others looked like stones with wooden handles. Still others like copper shoes. Ella’s collection of conditioning equipment was impressive. She even had a painstick.

After the weights—and a bit of a breather—came the striking board. That at least she’d no trouble with. Her hands were ugly, but almost indestructible.

Her forms she at least remembered, but she did not feel comfortable with them. She stuck with the striking, throwing, and grappling; mostly because she was feeling spent.

As she stretched—once she could’ve brought her knee to her shoulder without effort; such was no longer the case—and sipped her water, Meline was glad she’d done this first practice by herself. Ella’s offer was touching, but if Meline was going to look pathetic in front of her wife, she at least wanted to know how pathetic first.

 Havel jumped when Ella touched his shoulder. “Yes, Master?”

Ella hefted herself up and sat on the bench. “You’ve been out of sorts the last two weeks.”

“I have?” She nodded. “… I have.” Ella waited, though she was quite sure she knew what was bothering him. “It’s Dramfa.”

“I thought it might be.”

“And you’re going to fight him.”

“The people will be in grave danger if I do not.”

“And…” Havel wrung the jeweler’s hammer in his hands, “and I can’t help.”

Ella took a deep breath. “Not with the battle, no.” His shoulders sagged. “You understand why?”

He nodded. “Because he’s as far above you as you are above me.”

Maybe even further than that, Ella thought. “My best chance of survival will be fighting him without reserve or distraction.” She set a hand on his shoulder. “I will not be able to do so if my son is on the battlefield.”

Havel made a sound between a grunt and a squeak. He nodded. He had Ella in a damp, bone-crushing hug before she quite knew what was happening. Andru squawked against her chest.

“But there are other ways you can help, Havel,” Ella said, wriggling her own arms free and patting his back.

He gave an enormous sniffle. “Like what?”

“I’ve taught you how to sense the protections about Oakhill, yes?”

He set her back on the bench. “Yeah?”

“I will need you to monitor them. If they fall, the worst has happened.” She took his arm in a fierce grip. “I will do everything I can to survive. But if I die, you and Vaness need to take Selva and Andru to safety. That will ease my mind. Will you do that for me?”

He gave his broad nose a tremendous blow. “I will, Master.”

She nodded. “Good. I ask you to stay with Vaness that night and watch the little ones.”

“Of course, Master.”

A thought occurred to Ella. “Unrelated, but I am due back in Fey in fifteen years or so. This time,” she clasped his forearm, “I want you to come with me. Us, I suppose; I’ll hardly leave Meline and the children behind.”

Havel goggled at her. “I’d love to, Master,” he said, wiping his face, “but shouldn’t we focus on getting you through Dramfa?”

“Yes, we should,” Ella said, “which brings me to a task you can assist with now, which could save my life on that fateful night…”

 “Are you sure I’m ready for this?” Meline said as she and Ella entered the armoury. Havel and Vaness were in the shop working on a project Ella had set for them.

Ella laid Andru in his crib by the door. “I would hope so, after a month,” she said. “Besides,” she leaned in close, “I like seeing you in that outfit.”

Meline scoffed, giving her a smack on the arm. Ella laughed. Easy for her to; her baby fat was melting off like butter. She was already back in her old cotton shirt, though Meline noticed her pants were as yet the maternity pair Meline had stitched.

The warm up and strengthening exercises went as expected; it didn’t cut Meline’s pride at all that Ella outdid her in everything. They even used each other as weight, which had them both giggling.

As Meline started her forms, Ella paid close attention. “You said Felix taught you these?”

“Yeah.” Meline gathered herself on one leg, then squatted almost to the ground, and stepped out to the side without coming up. Still almost on the ground, she pivoted to face the opposite direction, and saw Ella copying her.

“How’s my form?” Ella said. She sat as low as Meline. Her weight distribution was good.

“Turn your weight-bearing foot in a shade,” Meline said. Ella complied. They continued through the form, Meline correcting Ella as needed. Ella never argued, never complained, and the only questions she asked regarded application and technique.

They moved on to hand-to-hand. Strings of attacks, blocks, and grabs, interspersed with questions. Meline knew Ella had her beat in experience, her technical proficiency was much higher, and she knew how to use her reach. But Meline had seen war. She had been tested and survived, again and again. Against a larger opponent she drove in close, dropped, grabbed, and threw, or pulled a leg out from under and bore to the ground.

After set combinations came light bouts. Of course Meline was still out of practice and condition, but she came closer to pinning Ella than she’d expected. Ella was still by and large the winner. Meline was exhausted by the end; she’d never let on, but she was quietly glad when the hour struck.

“How worthy an opponent was I?” she asked between gulps of water. Ella had Andru back in his scarf, and was nursing him.

“Hmm… you definitely know more than Havel.”

“I would hope so.”

“I would say you gave me as good a fight as my most senior students in the past would,” Ella said.

“How long have they been training, then?”

Ella shrugged. “Fifteen thousand years?” Meline almost spat out her water. “I was surprised, given how long it’s been since you practiced.”

“That’s… encouraging, I suppose,” Meline said.

“Very.” Ella was suddenly very close. She had a hand about Meline’s waist, and pulled her close. “You’ll make a difference, watching my back, Mel.”

After a moment, Meline relaxed into Ella’s embrace, with Andru gurgling between them. She hoped Ella was right.