Chapter 10
Fiorina crept away from the glade and the tethered horses, and with a deep sigh of relief shed the clothes that had rubbed her milky skin almost raw during the hours of daylight. I wish that it could be different, she thought as she squeezed the juices and oils from a fat grey toadstool and rubbed the thick and soothing liquid into her hurts. But I must remain covered, she chided herself as she considered returning to camp comfortably nude, I promised not to distract him, it is difficult enough to guide his thoughts away from me without adding extra temptation. She glanced again at the hated and chafing deerskins before sighing deeply. And turning, walked quietly toward the merry sound of cascading water that marked the waterfall.
This is much better, she sighed, as the chill waters gurgled around her calves. Being from a race that never wore clothing of any kind, Fiorina felt no cold. Even when snow lay thick around her forest home she would wander freely, skipping through the deep, white drifts. So the chill spring melt waters that flowed from the white capped peaks above merely soothed away the aches of a long day in the saddle as she slipped below the surface and dived down into the submerged bowl at the base of the falls, the millennia of churning water having cut deep into the bedrock. How long has it been? she asked herself, since I last came here. Many years, she realised. Her self imposed imprisonment had cut off so much of her world, but better than the alternative, she acknowledged with a shudder as memories of the veritable herds of lustful Satyr that had haunted her footsteps flooded into her mind.
Below and behind the waterfall lay a cave, an ancient formation created when the world had been born of fire and molten rock. A cave that connected to the labyrinth of subterranean passages that snaked and wound through the heart of the mountain like worm holes through a rotten apple. A cave that signalled the end of a deep and dark tunnel, that if followed, would bring a traveller to the very heart of the Goblin's deep dark domain. Not that any Goblin would travel that path, the passage having been sealed centuries before, for they all knew that to wander into that darkness meant suffering and certain death.
In that cave Shilla had made her home. Not that many would describe the cold vacant space as a comfortable home. Ever dark, solely a place to lay her head when the need for sleep took her, and little more.
And so Fiorina stepped from the water and called a name softly into the darkness.
“It has been many years my sister.” a thin voice replied, a cold voice, a voice without feeling or compassion.
“Too many years.” agreed the Nymph as she stepped deeper into the cave, her keen eyes searching the absolute and everlasting night. “But I come to visit now, and to beg your indulgence.”
“I know of your companions,” replied the sprite quietly, “The forest is alive with gossip and rumour,” she laughed, the sound almost mocking. “At first I dismissed the whisperings, a Nymph clad in the skins of forest animals, this is surely a jest, I told myself.”
“It is no jest,” replied Fiorina quietly, “And maybe that understanding will lead you to believe that it is vital that my companions be permitted to cross your stream, we do not have time to travel to the bridge.”
“Fiorina. Destroyer of hearts, the eternal temptress, divider of nations... why are the lives of these creatures important to you? You have never lowered yourself like this before... your heart is as cold as mine!”
“A plague is coming,” sighed the Nymph, “Maybe it will touch you not, this I understand, except...” she paused, drawing out the moment, hoping to add a little more gravity to her words, “Except if the new power that is rising opens the deep passage to your home.”
“Of little consequence,” Shilla replied dismissively, “They blocked the path because of me, to keep me out. I am the horror that lurks in the darkness... they fear me. Those creatures bother me not.”
“As you say sister,” Fiorina sighed, understanding that she would not be able to use fear to sway the cold hearted Naiad, “But this new power will threaten my kind, and all of the other free races of the world.”
“Free races,” spat Shilla in disgust, “Free. At liberty to wander, to explore at will... I hate them all, be they pure of heart or filled with the purest evil. Come not to me to bargain for them.”
“Then I ask for me. Sister, let them pass safely for my sake.”
Shilla slithered from her comfortable hole in the rock, her form changing from the lithe and sinuous slipperiness of an eel into the more pleasing form that matched the shape of her visitor. Pale skinned, nubile, beautiful, the form that she used to lure her victims into their watery graves.
“You implore me on your own behalf, but you never answered my question... my sister. Why are these creatures important to you? Why do you debase yourself... covering your beauty, ignoring your instincts... begging!”
Fiorina swallowed hard, the admission that flooded her heart and formed her words a confusion. A solitary tear trickled down her cheek as she whispered the words that she had long felt herself incapable of uttering.
“Because I am in love.”
“The Elf?” asked Shilla quietly, seeing the Nymph nod.
“Then this is momentous news,” she continued, “And you are prepared to give up everything that makes you what you are, for him?”
“I am,” Fiorina whispered, not trusting her own voice as emotions flooded, I am prepared to give up everything, she admitted to herself for the first time, a firm commitment rather than speculative thought, “I have been lonely for too long... and so has he.”
“Are you truly sure that you want to begin this journey with him, are you positive that he is the one?”
“I have never been as sure of anything before, the time has come, and he is the one.” Fiorina declared with confidence, “So will you permit us to pass... for me?”
“For you,” Shilla nodded. “And now I have news for you, and a warning. There are whispers that the Wulver are gathering on your trail, the Fairies are talking.”
“The Wulver!” Fiorina shuddered, within her boundaries, they troubled her little, fearing to enter her realm, but outside, in the dying forest...? “Do the Fairies say how close they are?”
“Maybe a day behind you, but they travel fast. Take my advice sister, cross before the break of day, and do not pause until you reach the mountains. The Wulver and the Kros hold no great love for each other... but, if memory serves, the Kros hold no love for you either. I'm afraid that you will soon find yourself between the hammer and the anvil, and only you can decide who will strike you the hardest.”
“I thank you for the warning,” replied Fiorina, an urgency now in her voice, “I must leave you, I must warn him.”
Shilla smiled, some small part of her stony heart joyful for her friends happiness. “Have no fear of the Wulver, none will cross my river and live, they will be forced to take the bridge. That will buy you a few more hours.”
“I am deeply in your debt,” whispered Fiorina as she wrapped her arms around the sprite and hugged her close, “I will never forget your kindness and understanding.”
“Be happy,” Shilla whispered as she watched the Nymph slide gracefully back into the water, “And good luck, my sister.”
“Mushrooms!” declared Feron with delight as Fiorina stepped into the ring of firelight cast by their blazing camp-fire, her arms laden with edible fungi.
She had needed time to think, so many thoughts and emotions had flooded her mind since the admission in Shilla's cave. Elation and joy filled her heart, and her spirit soared as she realised that Tillendur truly was the one, the partner that destiny had brought to her door. And he loves me also, she laughed, I have no need to ensnare him, he has given his heart freely to me... yes, he still has doubts, but he will soon understand my devotion to him. Yet despite her joyfulness a dark shadow threatened her mood, a menace loomed large over their journey casting an icy chill on her heart. We need not fear the Wulver, she decided, they are still far behind, and Shilla will not let them pass, we will
be safely in the realm of the Kros before they set their filthy paws on the northern bank. But how safe will I be? Their memory is long, do they still lust for vengeance, or have they forgotten me completely? With a sigh she had accepted that before the next moon rose she would have the answers to her questions.
Returning to her folded deerskin shirt and breeches her defiant spirit rebelled, a little while longer, she thought with a shudder, delaying the moment that the skins would obscure and irritate her natural form. And with a playful laugh she turned and plunged deeper into the forest gathering herbs and fungi as she wandered.
“Cold cuts of wild boar, and hot smoky mushrooms, a feast fit for any king.” chuckled Feron contentedly as he wrapped the thick and juicy fungi in the herbs that Fiorina had gathered and dropped them into the glowing embers.
“What news of your friend?” asked Ulaff as he mixed flat-bread dough in a wooden bowl.
Fiorina smiled, he had avoided addressing her directly all day, his comments pointedly directed through Tillendur.
“The news is both fair and foul,” she nodded, “We may pass the waters safely at first light, but there is a growing threat behind us... the Wulver are on our trail.”
“This is not good news,” Feron turned from his mushroom parcels, concern clear in his expression, “How does your friend know of these things?”
“She hears whispers, as do I, and Tillendur, but this is her home, she is attuned to the quiet speech around her more than we are. But it is not all bad news, they are far behind, and they will not follow us across the water, they will be forced to divert to the bridge, which is a great distance downstream. It is many hours travel, even as the wild wolves run.”
“That is some small consolation,” nodded Feron as he returned to his cooking, flipping each charring herb wrapped parcel in turn, “So we will have a good lead over them when we have crossed the river, mounted we can easily outrun even the most determined pack.”
“The Fairies alerted them,” she told Tillendur privately, “As you know they delight in gossip and spite.”
“This is true,” replied the Elf, yet his thoughts and worries became clearly revealed as Fiorina probed his mind.
“I am sure that the Fairies know nothing of our purpose,” she assured him, “They simply wish to cause trouble for a small group of wanderers, they wish to sit comfortably in the treetops and watch the sport develop as the wolf people hunt us down.”
“You are probably correct,” Tillendur agreed, “But that is not my greatest concern.”
Fiorina nodded gravely, “It had also occurred to me. They may have spread their mischief to the north, the Kros probably already know that I venture out of my enclave and journey into their realm... Yes Tillendur, I am frightened,” she nodded as she read his thoughts, “But no, I will not turn back, my place is at your side.”
“Then we have a decision to make,” he nodded as his expression turned more serious, “I will fight for you, to defend and protect you, as will Ulaff, I know this without asking, but can we ask Feron to walk into danger, to protect you, when he does not know the truth of what you are?”
“You know his heart and mind better than I,” she replied, “It is a decision that only you can make, but regardless, I will not reveal my true form to him, I understand the minds of Dwarves. They are loyal creatures, but their greatest flaw is their obsession with all things valuable and beautiful. Even the love that he has for you will not be strong enough to protect him from his feelings for me should he see my face.”
“Then we are agreed,” nodded Tillendur, “Remain veiled, and I will tell him as much of your story as required to win his heart over to our cause.”
“Our cause, or the cause?” she questioned with a playful wink.
“The two are the same now in my mind.” he whispered and felt her joy blossom.