Chapter the Twenty-sixth

In less than two weeks more than fifty fairies were found. It was remarkable, how they had been there all along, so well-hidden- but so present, so ready to come out an aide someone they had likely never heard of. So ready to gain back their freedom.
Fairies they found often knew the whereabouts of other fairies, who knew the whereabouts of yet more fairies. It became unnecessary for Rayne to do much leading at all. In the next month the warband tripled its size, then continued to double. They could no longer pass inconspicuous through the country- but it no longer mattered. The Llorleyans wanted the fairies. They really did.
There was but one fairy mentioned that was not found. This fairy was not Apria, Tamello’s cousin, who the discovered with the other fairies Parmese and Showvay (old friends of Wynd). But a fairy named Life mentioned a fairy she hadn’t seen for much longer than the fairies had been in hiding. A fairy named Sundark.
This fairy, as Rayne was informed, was named because he had been born on the day of an eclipse. It was a highly literal name, not meant to be symbolic at all. But, as Life said in an uncomfortable voice, perhaps it had become so.
"He was a strange one," she said. "Didn’t talk much, and lived on a bog, though those things in themselves aren’t really bad. But he was arrogant and ambitious and… Well, to be honest," admitted Life quietly, "I’m not sure you’d want him out in the open anyway."
Rayne wondered at this, but said nothing. They made a quick search of his old home, but he was not to be found, and, by the looks of it, had not been there in a very long time. Rayne couldn’t say she was very sorry about it. The very place sent her into a fit of shivering.
There soon came a small but defining incident upon which Rayne made an important but rather ill-timed discovery. Actually, it was less of an incident so much as an occurrence.
They (being Rayne, Tamello, Violet, Bronden, and three fairies named Gavin, Coll, and Sandra) were gathered around a fire one night, and Bronden was talking. Usually in groups, Bronden retreated into silence, but tonight he opened up and was telling stories, to the occasional strum of Tamello’s guitar.
Rayne was studying his face in the firelight, listening not so much to the tale as to the rise and fall of his voice, when it occurred to her. I’m in love with him, she thought. It didn’t register fully until she thought it again. I’m in love with him.
She rose slowly, and, trance-like, walked away from the fire. Someone called after her, but she paid no heed. Huddling and the base of a tree with her arms around her knees, she thought it over.
It was completely impossible. Bron was likely over two centuries old, give or take several decades. He was a fairy. He would never… And beyond that, he was distant and quiet… and intelligent and courageous and strong and- underneath the shell he sometimes wore- he was absolutely wonderful. There was no longer any question of pitying him- he was above pity.
Yes, it was impossible. But it was true. Rayne was in love with a fairy. With Bron.
**********
A flute played a haunting tune in the night. Above the dark treetops, a crescent moon glowed in the velvet sky. But below the trees, a troupe of figures, both silent and laughing, sorrowful and merry, beautiful and frightening, walked slowly on the shadowy woodland path. A faint glimmer hung about their feet, hair, and white raiment, like stardust falling from their wings.
The music they played was as they were- ethereal, somehow sad, joyful, and strangely chilling, all at once.
As the flute’s music went on, the scene changed. Instead of dark trees, the figures were now under a bright green canopy of trees, with hazy sunlight streaming down. They laughed and danced and flew and sang and played. The group was one and the came as the one that walked under the moon.
Apart from these golden, laughing fairies sat another, a very young one. He looked barely sixteen, which is no more than a child in fairy years. His green wings sand a melody all their own. A lady-fairy, fair and golden and clad in a silvery-white hooded cloak, sat by and caressed him tenderly. She gently played a light tune on a guitar, and the boy laughed and sang with her. Near them sat another young fairy, with honey-colored hair and peach-colored wings, and the two had a resemblance that suggested relation to each other.
Suddenly the scenes began switching back and forth. They saw swords enter the merry dance. The moonlit travels flickered in and out. The haunting music went on and on. Screams shattered the merriment, but nothing would or could disturb the music.
They saw the white lady rush the little green-winged boy and honey-haired girl into the forest. Tears pouring down her face, the lady kissed her son, pressing him against her. Then she told to flee, to run for his life and hide himself until it was over.
Hiding in a tree, unwilling to leave their family and friends, the young male saw everything while the female fainted. The young one could not tear his eyes away. He saw the destruction of the fairy camp. He saw his father fall, protecting his mother. Then he watched his mother violently slain. One by one his kinsfolk and friends fell to those terrible swords. What had they, a roving fairy troupe, done to deserve it? Played music. Played music and danced among the trees.
The scene flickered back and forth to the dark-night path, cutting what came next into jagged segments.
The flute played on.
The little fairy flew down, leaving his cousin in the tree. He wept, kneeling in the midst of his fallen people. He stroked the long neck of a mandolin smashed beyond recognition, and his fingers traced harp-strings that would never play again.
He pulled the guitar out of the rubble and clutched it to him. It was only a little bit damaged.
He looked around him through tear-glazed eyes at the death around him. So many dead friends and family lay there, never to get up.
He raised his head to the darkening sky, and screamed. Then he faded into swirling darkness.
On opposite ends of Llorleya, Tamello and Aria woke simultaneously in the middle of the night. Aria’s eyes burned. Beads of sweat materialized on Tam’s forehead. They had shared a vision.
Tamello stood quietly and picked up his instrument. He gently played a soothing tune on it, and began to lull himself to sleep. But all the while the haunting, ethereal melody of the flute in the vision floated through his mind.
**********
Aria and her army were nearly in reach of Torlith’s castle. Aria stood on the crest of a hill, and she could see it there- blotting out part of the evening sunlight. She sighed. "We’re not ready yet, can’t you see?" she whispered to herself. "Please, sun, set slower. Give Rayne more time."
It was then that a group of people came to join her on the hill. This was Raphael, Noonstar, Gilligan, Peter, and Loth. She looked at them silently as they seated themselves on the grass, and she copied their motions, waiting to hear what they would say- for by the troubled looks on their faces, they had something on their minds.
Raphael started.
"I’m sorry, Aria, but we can’t wait for Rayne and the fairies any longer- if she’s found any at all," said the star gravely. He crossed his arms over his chest.
Aria’s eyes closed. Sorrow filled her, but she accepted the words. "I know. It has been on my own mind as well. We need a battle plan." She sighed. "We must first allow Torlith the option of surrender," she said, her face hardening. "I do not think he will accept it, but we must try- we shall be noble, if he is not.
Noonstar nodded approvingly at his granddaughter. "Spoken as a true queen."
Aria turned a sad smile to him. "That is the least I can hope to be for my people," she said, looking around at those around her.
Gilligan put an arm around her shoulder. "You are that and more," he whispered into her hear.
She smiled, blushing. Peter, who had said nothing but was listening to all, smiled (he liked his foster daughter’s fiancé.)
"My heart’s wish is to wait longer, but as it is," Aria continued, "I would have the army prepare to face Torlith alone."
Loth spoke. "I fear some may be discouraged at facing this- this menace you say Wynd spoke of- without the fairies."
"I know," said Aria. Sounding just a bit sharper than she meant to, she said, "What do you suggest I do about that?"
Loth looked back coolly. "Encourage them. Stir their desire for freedom."
A small, mirthless smile played on Aria’s mouth. "I’m afraid you are much better suited to that, Loth, my friend."
Loth copied her smile. "I can teach you some pointers."
Raphael put a brisk end to this exchange. "The fact is, Loth is right. We stars will fight valiantly, fairies or no, but I cannot pretend that even I do not wish they were here. And what about after Torlith refuses surrender, as we all know he will? Aria, you may have to give a speech."
"Then I will," she said resolutely. "Loth, what were those pointers you were talking about?"
****
Under the wide, pale blue sky of morning, Aria stood before her army. Though a large assembly, everyone was silent, and Aria could hear the last birds of autumn singing in the distance. The lovely sound fell on her ear, but it held no meaning for her. Today she must pour herself into the encouragement of her people, as a queen must, and she had no energy to spare for delight in birdsong. Not yet.
Who knew hope could be such a hard, determined, tiring thing? Aria thought.
A year, maybe even half a year ago, Aria knew she would have been shaking like a leaf in a gale to be standing there. But she had changed since then. She had found many things she had once though lost forever. Her dreams were in reach. She had seen wonders that were almost impossible to imagine. Now, neither Torlith nor being a queen had any power to frighten her. She did not tremble.
Afterwards, she was never able to recall what she had said. She could only remember her voice gliding over the crowd, as if borne on the wings of the wind. She remembered a ripple of hope, like sunlight, spreading across the faces of her people, but she couldn’t recall what she had said to make it happen. She was to wish she could remember, for soon she would need that hope more than ever.
Only one thing she could hear herself saying. It was, "Don’t be afraid. We are standing together, and we can win Llorleya’s freedom."
****
The Llorleyans were assembled around Torlith’s castle. Though many wished to immediately began a siege, or dare Torlith into the open, Aria still insisted they try to talk to him. No one thought it would do any good.
Torlith did obey them so far as to come out and stand on a balcony with some soldiers. But without waiting for Aria to speak, he signaled to the man at his right side. The man held up a tightly rolled paper. With a flourish of his arm, he unfurled it as though it were an enchanted flag.
"The terms of surrender," he said in a bored, droning voice that did not match the malicious expression on his face, "are as follows:
"One: The Llorleyans will surrender Aria, who calls herself Queen, to Torlith." (He did not say explicitly "to be put to death", but everyone knew the truth of it.)
"Two: They are to lay down their weapons and come peacefully. Any found resisting King Torlith’s army will be killed.
"Three: The Elves, who have allied themselves so unfortunately with Aria, are likewise to surrender. As punishment for joining his enemies, King Torlith claims a… small portion… of their land. Again, any found resisting will be killed.
"Finally, King Torlith demands nothing less than complete fealty from those who are not killed. Swear this, and he will let them live with only small payment for their crimes.
"These are the terms of surrender set by Torlith, King of Llorleya."
The man finished and let the paper snap back into a tube.
Shouts of rage broke out from the murmurs that had been circulating. Aria called clearly and calmly, "We do not accept the terms! But perhaps you would wish to surrender?"
Torlith did not answer, just stared down at them. "Perhaps the people of Llorleya would like to know what kind of queen"- the word spoken scathingly- "they have chosen to follow," he said. He raised his voice, and his leering smile made them sick.
"You follow a coward! When your country was liberated by myself and her family overthrown, your princess hid. For years she blended in among you and let you all suffer and sorrow without lifting a finger. And when she did lower herself to come to me, she still did nothing until I figured out her identity! And what did she do then? Run again and abandon you all! If the elves hadn’t found her, you would still be abandoned. Is that the queen you want?"
Aria, back ramrod-straight, held her head high, refusing to lower herself and be cowed by Torlith’s accusations. And when he had finished, her mask of solemnity broke.
"Torlith, your insinuations do not stand," she said, suddenly laughing. "Everyone here knows how I have ceaselessly fought for Llorleya, or how all I did I did in preparation for the moment when I would get this chance for her freedom- yes, even hiding for the time when I was too young to fight. This loyalty and trustworthiness can be shown for anyone in this crowd," she said, waving her arm to the people. "They have also not forgotten that it was you who put us in bondage in the first place. I have lived among my people for years now. I have suffered and celebrated with them, and now I will fight alongside them."
Cheers rose from the army.
"I say again, Torlith- We do not accept your terms of surrender."
"For Llorleya!" cried a shout of many voices.
But Torlith had not finished. "Then I have something to show you," he called, signaling to one of his men. Then came a sight that made Raphael start forward with a murderous fire in his eyes, and only Tyri clamping his huge hands on the other star’s shoulder could keep Raphael from flying upward in a fury. For, being led out on an iron collar and chain, was Wynd.