Chapter 6

I sighed, unsure which was the least pleasant prospect, being lost alone, or being lost with this dark-haired mage. I did not argue his control of the reins and let him steer us into the trees.

“I did have other plans for the night,” I muttered under my breath.

“Not important ones.”

“You don’t know what I was about, so how can you judge?”

“Well, perhaps I should say, my needs are more important than yours.”

“Excuse me,” I took the reins back from him, annoyed. “My horse. It is awfully dismissive of you to assume your needs are more important than mine when you don’t know what they are.”

“That spot over there,” he pointed as we entered the trees. There was a space between the trees that I would have normally avoided, its circumference uncomfortably round, too similar to a fairy circle for me to step without unease within it, although I could see that it was not marked as such. The trees grew heavily around this spot, but one had fallen, creating a gap in the canopy through which the moon shone like a beacon.

“You’re a village girl on a horse riding to the neighbouring village during the night at a walk,” he continued. If someone were dying, you would ride at speed. Therefore, my guess is that you intended to see a witch or a warlock for a love spell. As I said, my needs are more important.”

“I was riding to a good-witch. My mother is convinced that my baby brother is a changeling.”

“Unlikely,” he replied as I drew Coryfe to a stop. “Your mother will get over it.” He slid from the horse. “We should start a fire.”

I was tempted to urge Coryfe on and leave him behind. However, he was a mage. I did not know what other spells he had that he might use against me if I tried to do so, and that same magic might be useful in keeping me alive until I found my way back home.

“Just be wary,” I cautioned him. “This spot is very circular. Perhaps the foliage hides a fairy circle?”

“Nonsense,” he dismissed my concerns. “I would sense the magic if it were so.”

I dismounted and unsaddled Coryfe as the mage sat on one of the branches of the fallen tree and drew from a bag he wore under his cloak, a small book, bound in leather, with curls of metal protecting the corners and clasping the covers shut.

“We need a fire,” he said to me, his fingers stroking the cover reverently. There was no writing on the cover or binding, but I could see something had been embossed into the leather. Perhaps the embossing was the shadow of writing that had once been picked out with ink, but which time had faded or flaked away.

“Then you should gather some wood,” I suggested. “If you wish me to use my bow to catch something to eat.”

He looked up at me and arched his heavy brows. “Is that right?” I met his eyes and raised my eyebrows back. He returned the book to his bag. “Very well,” he agreed standing and began to collect the dead wood off the forest floor.

I hesitated, unwilling to leave him with Coryfe whilst I hunted. I might return to no horse and no mage.

“I feel we have a trust issue,” he observed.

He flicked his long black locks back over his shoulders. The tips of his ears parted the hair, delicately pointed. There was some Fae or Elven heritage in his lineage, I realised. It would explain the wild beauty of his features. I had never seen someone with brethren so recently in their line that their ears retained the points, however.

There had been a time, in the past, where the fairy brethren and mankind had intermingled more freely, and there were many families who held a strain from somewhere in their past as a result. More recently, at least according to tale, the Fae were more likely to take a child sired with mankind back into their realm, thus seeing someone with Fae heritage amongst us, was becoming rarer.

I knew this only through story, there was no one of brethren heritage in my village that I knew of. But, according to the stories, they were usually identifiable only by their unusual beauty, a certain grace of movement, or a light in the eye. This mage certainly possessed all of those charms.

“How do you propose we surmount that?” He asked me.

“How about you give me that book, and I trust you enough to leave you with Coryfe?” I suggested boldly.

He considered me for a long moment. “I went to a great deal of effort to get this book,” he said slowly, reluctant to part with it.

“Then you’ll be less likely to ride off on my horse,” I held out my hand.

“Don’t open it,” he cautioned me bringing the book out of his bag. “It’s magic.” I put the book into my bag. He watched the transfer suspiciously. “What is your name, girl?” he asked me.

“What is yours?” Names were tricky things. In the wrong hands, they could be used for mischief.

“Rivyn,” he met my eyes with his. I did not think he lied.

“Siorin.”

His lips curled in something that might have been a smile on another face, but on his was just a baring of teeth. His premolars were the same length as his canines, and both were sharply pointed. He was definitely not all mankind, I noted warily, wondering if I had fallen into a brethren trap of some sort. He had, after all, well and truly lured me from my path.

“Well, now that we’re officially acquainted, how about you find us something to eat?”

I took my bow and arrow deeper into the trees, keeping my ears pricked for the sound of hooves, not quite trusting Rivyn would not make off with Coryfe despite the book in my bag. I reached inside in order to feel it’s binding, reassuring myself that it was truly there. It had occurred to me that the mage might magic it away somehow.

Not a Fae forest he had said, however my stalking through the undergrowth scattered a family of stick-like imps, sending them scurrying away in a wild rustling of leaves, and further along, what looked to be the floating of thistledown in the breeze, was actually a flock of fairies harvesting the sweet sap that oozed from the trees.

I had just felled an unfortunate rabbit when I noticed something glinting, suspended between the trees. I drew closer, suspiciously.

There was a fairy entangled in a spider web. I could not tell its gender as it was trussed so tightly, with only its little feet and part of its face visible. Its struggles had attracted the attention of the web’s owner, and the fat spider was making its way towards its victim.

“It’s my night for rescues,” I commented to it. It hissed at me. “Come now, that’s no way to treat someone who’s trying to help.” I used my dagger to slice it free of the web, sending the spider scurrying, and knelt to carefully unwind the sticky gossamer from the captive.

It took some time, and I heard the mage call my name in the distance.