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She’s taken a turn for the worse again.
He doesn’t have a horse with him, only his own two feet, but Tighnari doesn’t let that stop him from running as fast as he can through the forest. It’s nighttime, impairing his vision, but he makes use of what little light the moonlight provides and what he memorized of the route from his hut to here.
There, he has the majority of his medical herbs and tools. He’ll be able to properly treat Collei at home. He just has to make it.
“Hold on a little longer,” he murmurs to the groaning girl in his arms. “Just a little bit longer.”
“The wind is so loud,” Collei whimpers, turning her head. “The light’s too bright.”
It’s nighttime, Tighnari thinks grimly. There’s hardly any light.
“T-Tighnari. The light, it’s—it’s getting closer.”
Oh, that’s not good. “Hold on, we’re almost to the spacious part of the forest. Just keeping talking if you can Collei, don’t—“
“She – aghhh, my head – she’s looking at us. Tighnari, look. It’s a faery.”
“What?”
“I’m so jealous,” he hears a soft voice whisper into his ear.
Tighnari jumps in fright and almost loses his balance, turning to look for who just spoke.
There, dressed in pale petals and with great golden wings flapping behind her, is a faery. A faery who is watching him with a supercilious look on her face. She must have been the light Collei was talking about.
Tighnari isn’t sure how he feels about that.
“You get to have that child,” the faery continues. “Don’t you know that it’s cruel to show off what I don’t have?”
He needs to be careful with what he says. His heart is still racing in his chest, but Tighnari takes a few breaths to calm himself before saying, “Forgive us, noble faery, for trespassing upon your territory. We will be sure to leave straight away.”
“No no, stay a while.” The faery flies close, too close. Her fingers touch Collei’s hair, who seems to have passed out. “Stay a long while.”
He’s heard about this. About faeries who find and kidnap children, taking them to their world regardless of how humans feel about it. They’re relentless creatures, beautiful only in visage but as sharp and cruel as thorns.
“We can’t,” Tighnari says, backing up. “She needs help.”
“Oh, but I can help.” The faery’s smile is merely bared teeth. “I always help what’s mine.”
“She isn’t yours. She’s human.”
“I need only take her and she won’t be anymore.”
“Respectfully, I will not let that happen.”
“And I,” says the faery, her eyes as hard as rock, “am not letting you leave until I have a new soul to call my own. I’d suggest you leave the girl to me, little mortal. I imagine you wouldn’t like it if I got angry.”
No, he wouldn’t. But Tighnari doesn’t want Collei to fall into the clutches of the fae, not when she still has so much time left for the mortal world. She has a life here. She deserves to have a choice.
But angering a faery will only result in tragedy for the both of them. Tighnari needs to come up with a solution, quick.
“If I cannot stop you from taking a soul to make it into one of your denizens,” says Tighnari, “then may I offer myself instead?”
“You?” The faery simpers, turning to fly on her back and stare up at the night sky. “Why would I want you? You are hardly the sort of pure child my kind adore so.”
“Maybe so, but I can offer my services as an herbalist. I have extensively studied the forest’s bounty, and I have had years to refine my knowledge as a healer—”
“Useless,” the faery says, waving away his life’s work like it holds as much weight as the night’s gentle breeze. “All of it is knowledge meant for humans. For mortals. What use does my kind have for a little mortal medic?”
Stung by such a blase rejection, Tighnari frantically searches for anything the fae might like. “I may not be a child, but I have had experience caring for them. I can offer my services as a childminder, or perhaps, if I may, I can assist midwives.”
“The children of the fae are hardly raised with human traditions,” the faery says, but there! She’s looking at him now. Her interest has been piqued. “I don’t think you know what such work truly entails.”
“Perhaps not now, but I could.”
“You are hardly fit to be turned into one of us. You are too embedded in this world, too stuck in its ways.” The faery points to Collei, golden eyes sharp as she smiles. “That girl is young, and she is sick. She is in the perfect state to be turned.”
That sounds awful. “I,” Tighnari says quietly, “have never been opposed to learning more about the forest. It is my life’s work. It is what I love most.”
The faery’s smile widens. “I think you’re lying.”
“I think,” says Tighnari, “that no matter what happens today, I will never look upon the flora and fauna of the world’s forests with anything but adoration.”
“...sincerity in a human. How precious.” The faery stares wistfully at Collei, and he resists the urge to turn and hide her away from those piercing eyes. “Well, I suppose having you wouldn’t be such a bad idea. One with the heart of the forest – yes, perhaps you could be very valuable indeed.” She moves toward Tighnari, an expectant grin on her face. “Alright then, I shall take you in her stead. Put the girl down, unless you wish for both of you to be taken to my world?”
“Wait,” Tighnari can’t help but say, stepping back. The faery’s wide smile begins to twist into a snarl, and he hurries to say, “I will go with you! But first, Collei needs help. I can take her to my home and quickly give her a tincture for her pain. You can follow if you’d like.”
“You shouldn’t have given me her name,” the faery says, and Tighnari goes cold. “Names have power, mortal, and you’ve effectively given me total control over her.”
Fear is the most inconvenient thing to have ever been invented. It frazzles the mind and makes self-control the slipperiest slope to climb. Mastering himself, Tighnari says, “Perhaps I have, but you cannot go back on your word. You have already said you’ll take me.”
“I did, didn’t I?” muses the faery, a mildly irritated look on her face. “I concede this point. But I don’t think I very much like the idea of you leaving this forest. Think of something else to do, mortal.”
Fear closes its grip on his heart again, but Tighnari refuses to let it cloud his judgement. Think, Tighnari, think! There’s nothing in the immediate vicinity he can use to help Collei. He’s already spread a paste over her skin to try and soothe the pain, but it can only do so much. It would take a work of magic to help her now. Magic he doesn’t have.
…magic the faery has.
“Can you heal her?” Tighnari dares to ask. He’s already bartered himself away, and upheld the faery’s promise of leaving Collei alone. There isn’t much more that can happen.
The faery’s lips quirk up. “If you allow me to take her to the land of the fae—”
“Out of the question,” Tighnari snaps, before shutting his mouth as he understands what he’s just done. He’s just interrupted a fae – a being that only knows the reverence of humans – in a discussion where she holds all of the cards. She’s been entertaining his arguments thus far, but who can say this isn’t where her patience runs out? Has he just jeopardized his chances at negotiation—
But thankfully, the faery only looks amused. “I cannot erase the illness’ existence. I can, however, transfer it to another.”
For a cold, awful moment, Tighnari’s brain moves faster than his heart. For a terrible moment, he stands in the dark forest holding Collei’s fragile body, looking down at her and remembering her clumsy attempts to help him in his work. He remembers the inexperience in her eyes, the way she takes time to even choose a vial.
I am skilled. I have more to offer this world.
It’s one of the worst things he’s ever thought, as both a medic and, more importantly, as Collei’s friend. It feels absolutely awful to know he ever thought it – he’s sick to his stomach, wishing he could take Collei somewhere away from him. Rationally, he knows it was just an intrusive thought. Logic is at the forefront of his mind after all, has been ever since he realized he must barter with this fey being.
Besides. Anyone would reflexively try to distance themselves from the decision he is about to make.
Fear is really such an awful thing.
“Could you,” Tighnari says, looking at Collei’s pained expression, “transfer the illness to me?”
“I could, certainly. But…” The faery dips low, bringing her face so close to his that he can smell the gooseberries on her breath. “Could you do that? Accept such a torturous burden on yourself, when you could easily let me take the girl and act as though nothing ever happened?”
She’s barely finished speaking when he says, “I can and I will.”
“Oh?”
“Collei is young. She has not had my education, nor does she have my experience in work, but she has time to learn. She has potential to become something greater than I. Besides…” Tighnari holds Collei closer to him, doing his best to hide her away from those predatory eyes. “She never asked for this. If I can help her, then I will.”
“‘She never asked for this,’ hmm?” The faery stares at him as she crosses her arms, unblinking. “I suppose things change when you do ask for it. Alright, if that’s how you feel, I shall permit your request.” She grins at him as she comes close. “I hope you don’t regret this.”
He watches her warily as she takes one of Collei’s arms, lifting it to her lips, and kisses the dark patch of skin. Tighnari is amazed to see the darkness recede, leaving behind only unmarred, healthy skin. Even in sleep, Collei seems to sense what has happened and lets out a happy sigh.
The faery turns to him, lips blackened. “That is a nasty illness,” she says, raising her eyebrows. “Not dissimilar to a curse. Are you sure you want this?”
“Yes.”
“Put the girl down, and lay on the grass. You won’t like this, not one bit.”
He follows her instructions, ready to leap up in case she tries anything. Thankfully, she heads straight for him, flying low and taking his left hand. She kisses his forearm.
Oh.
Tighnari seizes with pain as his bones suddenly feel like they’re trying to break themselves. Just existing suddenly hurts terribly. He regrets this, he regrets this so much, he should never have—
He twists his head to the side, trying to get away from the pain, and sees the serene Collei sleeping on a bed of grass. Tighnari feels pain in his heart.
Oh, Collei. Is this what you’ve been feeling all this time?
Tighnari slowly reaches for his ward, gently running his fingers over her delicate wrist. She smiles in her sleep, curling up like a comfortable cat, the way she should always be. And now, she has the chance to live free of this pain.
“May I – ugh – may I try to—to take her to my home?” Tighnari manages to ask, leaving his hand where it is to try and conserve his energy. “Collei must not – ah – must not be left here alone.”
“Oh, I like you,” the faery says, alighting on the ground and kneeling beside him. Tighnari can barely protest as she picks him up, so concentrated on trying to work through the debilitating pain in his bones. “Even now, limp with pain, you’re trying to look out for her. You have a noble heart, sweet fox, and a silver tongue.”
Feeling a sudden weightless sensation, Tighnari forces his eyes open to take in his surroundings. The wind is blowing almost sweetly against his skin, a soothing balm to the pain, but this—this isn’t right. “Where are you—” He grits his teeth, hoping the sudden wave of throbbing pain in his arms will settle soon. “-taking me? Collei—she needs—”
“I have been patient with you,” the faery says. “But I think you’ll find my patience has its limits. The girl will be fine. You, in the meantime, have promised to become mine, and I will hold you to your promise. I’ve been looking for a consort anyway.”
“C-Consort!” Tighnari coughs weakly and lowers his voice as best he can while still retaining his incredulity. “I have agreed to no such thing.”
“You said I could take you,” the faery says, simpering once more. She weaves through the trees, bringing them deeper and deeper into the forest. Tighnari can even begin to pick up the sweet scent of fruit in abundance. “It’s not my fault that you didn’t specify what for.”
Ah. Of course, I would fall to the tongue of the fae in the end.
“You have knowledge of the forest’s bounty, are experienced in childcare, have a noble heart, and possess the tongue of a fox. Yes, I think you’ll do nicely, especially as a fox-fae.”
No, Tighnari thinks as his vision begins to go black around the edges.
“As my consort-to-be, I’ll give you a gift. Your little ward with grass for hair will find herself sleeping in a grove of butterfly bushes, undisturbed and well. There, does that comfort you?”
There’s way too much to protest against, too much Tighnari still has to do in this world, so many people he wants to say goodbye to, but this faery won’t accept that. So all he can do is say, “My name is Tighnari.”
The faery stops talking.
The leaves of the grey willows whisper in the night’s wind, the breeze so cool it has begun to lose its soothing quality. Tighnari turns his head, hiding his face in the faery’s shoulder, shuts his eyes so tightly he begins to see stars, regrets it, and tries to relax his facial muscles. Being ill is absolutely awful.
There’s a strange sound in the air. It’s not the rustling of the leaves, nor is it the hooting of an owl. It’s not even his own breath.
Then the faery opens her mouth, and Tighnari realizes that she’s humming.
“My name,” sings the faery as Tighnari smells fruits and, more importantly, mushrooms, “is Lumine.”
Then everything is too bright for a moment.
Tighnari passes out.
“I’m jealous of you, girl. Having such a staunch protector might have changed my fate, all those years ago.” Lumine sighs as she lays the sleeping Collei down in a grove of butterfly bushes, wondering if she should leave a basket of bread and cheese nearby. It’s probably best if she doesn’t – she might accidentally cause Collei to seek a faery ring.
“Ah, well. He’s mine now. And who knows? Perhaps one day he’ll even be this forest’s king.”