Bound by the Mist (Mists of Eria) (3 page)

Her Internet search had turned up such names as ljósálfar, Tuatha de Danann, aos sí, and daoine sídhe. Were these mythical beings all the same? Did it even matter? Maybe all those years of therapy pointed to the truth—that she’d lost it long ago.

Bending over, she picked up her bag to turn and leave when the old woman from behind the desk came up to her and spoke. “I see you were looking at books about elves, my dear? Did you find what you needed?” The woman’s sharp eyes watched her closely.

Cal cringed mentally. She didn’t feel like talking, especially to an inquisitive stranger. “Very interesting stuff but not quite what I was looking for.”

The woman gave a good-natured smile. “May I be of assistance? I’m the owner of the store, so I know every page and book here. I might be able to provide the knowledge you seek.”

Cal laughed self-consciously. “No, thank you. I think I’m getting too caught up in those tales. It’s not like they truly happened or even—” Before she babbled on, she cut herself off.

The woman gave a soft laugh. “Don’t be so quick to disbelieve. It’s been said reality has some basis in myth. For us, this may be a truth that is only hinting at other beings existing. Any other true knowledge may have been lost to time, seeping into memory as nearly forgotten tales. Many are all too ready to deny any magic in life. Are you?” She ran a loving hand over a row of books, and the numerous bracelets on her wrist clanked against each other. “I can't answer that for you, my dear, but use caution if you choose to play in their world. Elves, faeries, spirits—or whatever you prefer to call them—were not as they are now portrayed in popular children’s movies. They weren’t to be trifled with. It was play nicely or not at all,” she chided, as though Cal were a kindergartener who couldn’t keep her hands to herself.

A feeling of wanting to run to safety overwhelmed her. Too bad she didn’t know the location of that coveted place. This was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? A possible answer? “I thought elves were beings of nature?” For some reason, she’d always equated nature lovers with peace. What she had read in mythology, though, didn’t comfort her much in that vein. Capricious, narcissistic, and other similar adjectives could be ascribed to the beings she read about—along with the fact they rarely tolerated humans well.

“Oh, they were. You have to remember nature can be both beautiful and perilous. Although their wrath could be deadly, their kind didn’t seek to harm. At least, it was so in the old days…so I’ve heard. Mortals always treaded somewhat warily around the Fair Folk. For good reason I might add. Human foibles were often thought of as a weakness to be avoided.”

Cal couldn’t believe she was encouraging the old woman. “So mortals were inferior to them, they believed?” And probably still believe. She shook an inward finger at herself, telling herself to stop this insane conversation. Whether she meant with herself or with the woman, she didn’t know.

“Oh, my dear, I’ve never been inside the head of one, so I couldn’t rightfully give a motivation to their beliefs and thoughts.”

“Well, they seemed sort of arrogant in their views.” Ambivalence leaked out of her voice.
Her hands trembled, forcing her to interlace them in front of her
.
All this jibed too closely with her views of those mysterious people she saw years ago. It was consistent with dreams of her elf, too. Her
elf? Her dream elf? That couldn’t be right. She didn’t even know him, despite starring in some strange and steamy dream with him.

“Come off sounding arrogant to you, hmm?” The elderly woman laughed, her round face creasing into a smile. “That they did. Or at least, they could come across as so. Some had such an air of detachment about them, again lending to this impression. Whether that came naturally or was put on, I don’t know. Maybe their self-assurance sprang from seeing and knowing their place in the world. Of course, this all is conjecture.”

Cal fought to keep her jaw from hitting the floor. “Of course.”

This had to be the most bizarre conversation she ever had, and given her history, she’d had plenty. The woman could very well be a loon. But what if she wasn’t and spoke the truth? Cal didn’t trust her own rationality right now. Was she sinking fast, only armed with paddles of paranoia?

When the woman didn’t speak, she cleared her throat. “Do you have any other words of wisdom?”

“No, dear.” She reached out and touched Cal’s cheek. “What ails you can’t be found in a book. Or online. You would do well to remember that.”

A chill of fear crawled up and down Cal’s spine, then took up residence in her heart. The previously subtle incense that drifted on the air intensified, smothering her. How…what did this woman know?

The woman’s eyes twinkled before she turned around, effectively dismissing Cal. “Goodbye. And remember, life is rarely as it seems. There are always choices. Maybe not ones you prefer, but they are still there, nevertheless.”

“B…but….”

The old lady shook her head, already walking away. “Now is not the time. Don’t come back until the time is right.” Her affable tone carried a hint of warning that discouraged further questions.

When the time was right? What the heck did that mean? She followed the woman out of the cramped aisle. The old lady slipped behind the desk as Cal all but ran to the door and exited without a backward glance. The bells chimed overhead but soon ceased their song when the door shut, leaving her adrift in her confusion.

Chapter 3

From the balcony Relian watched the morning sun come up over the ridge of mountains that flanked the valley. The coolness of the railing he leaned against seeped through his thin tunic and trousers. He welcomed the feeling, for it settled the heat of his mind and body.

His sleep hadn’t been restful, but that was nothing new. She—the woman, the girl—haunted him as surely as any spirit could. And now he knew why. They were one and the same.

Memory hammered at him, and his mind drifted back to an evening ten years ago. The celebration started normally. The participants danced, sang, and feasted—until they noticed her, the young human girl who observed them through the forming veil. Her feat caused surprise, and yes, fear. Rarely were humans sensitive enough to feel the veil’s magic, let alone have ‘the sight’ to be able to peer through the rift it sometimes formed between the two dimensions. His people attributed the incident to her young age and the condition of the veil. In the past when elf and human mingled, children often saw what their parents could not.

But none of the other humans with her in the glade-like setting had been aware of the veil, not even the other children. A shudder ran up Relian’s spine. That time seemed so long ago. Yet ten years was nothing to an elf. What bothered him the most—something he would never admit to anyone—was the lingering effect she had on him. A human who probably hadn’t seen any more then thirteen summers shouldn’t have any pull on an elf. He felt a connection, an affinity to her he could never reason out. She’d been but a human girl and a child at that.

And then when the veil had taken…. Relian slammed his hand down on the balustrade. No, he wasn’t going there. Humans weren’t meant for Eria. His dreams had to remain a secret, and he must forget her. Too bad his mind and body didn’t seem to know that.

He dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his temples. All this pondering upon humanity, matched with his disturbingly sexual dreams, made his head pound. The present needed his thoughts. The past did not.
Hollow words,
echoed a voice in his mind, chilling in its truthfulness.

The air, fresh and beguiling, called to him. He luxuriated in its caress, taking it deep into his lungs. He sent one longing glance over the distant landscape before he turned away. How he wished he could roam out there free. Unfortunately, there was no time for such indulgence this morning, not for Relian, the prince. Right now, his role as one of his father’s advisors, not to mention his position as heir, called him to duty. And after those roles had been dispatched for the day, he would become a captain of the guard once again.

He set his teacup down by the remains of his breakfast. Entering his chamber, he slipped on formal robes. Early morning light trickled through the shutters and threw shadows into relief against the cream-colored walls.

The silk sheets on his bed beckoned. But his father had called a council meeting of his advisors to be held after breakfast. Relian couldn’t be late. Every morning for the last couple weeks, he ate his meal from the comfort of his balcony, not going to the great hall every other day or so as customary—something he knew caused whispers. If he were late to a meeting, it would only cause the questioning murmurs to grow in magnitude.

Going to the table, he poured herb water into a basin. He dried his hands off and picked up the silver circlet that lay in a silver box. Adjusting it upon his brow, he deemed himself ready. Relian opened the door and saw a chambermaid poised to knock, her hand raised. Her startled eyes met his. He gave her a slight smile and left the chamber, the familiar swish of his robes comforting him.

He arrived at the council meeting. The air, rife with a sense of frustrated helplessness, mimicked his mood perfectly as the council dragged on. White-washed walls closed in about him. Relian shifted in his cushioned chair. Though quite comfortable, the seat threatened to become molded to his rear.

Little had been decided. Not that anything ever was, at least not without a lot of deliberate thought and planning first. As king, his father would make the final decision but allowed the rest of the council their indecision for now. They had to undertake some course of action, though, in truth, he didn’t know what to suggest. All here knew well enough what plagued their land, but finding the solution was another matter entirely. No, there was no simple answer. A chill of foreboding settled over him. Looking to outside sources, ones not of their world, might have to be considered.

One of the councilors, an elvin male of indeterminate years with nondescript sandy hair, spoke. “The magic is not renewing itself, and what remains is disappearing. Without this magic, our defenses become weaker and the darkindred will soon overcome them. We have to restore balance before we lose all.”

His father’s advisor, Avrin, shook his head. “What do you propose we do? We know the connection, or lack thereof, between our worlds influences the drain. Both dimensions need to be brought back into balance. All that remains is how to do so. But unless the human world is ventured into, we’re at a loss for now.” He ended his short speech with a piercing look around the room.

The room went silent. Avrin said the one thing many were not ready to consider—that the human world might have the answer if they would only look there. Even Relian, favoring that some plan of action be implemented sooner than later, would pause in going that far. His people avoided the human world at almost any cost, though the exact reasons behind that had become murky. They kept themselves separate from humans for so long they were now an insular society, something he’d never before minded. But now…that world held
her
.

The king, who’d been quiet, held up his hand for silence. The deceptively young contours of his face were set into lines of implacability, and his calm, authoritative tone matched his outward mien. “These concerns are pressing upon everyone’s mind. Let us think on all we’ve discussed and start afresh tomorrow morning.” With a slight nod, he dismissed everyone but his son. “A moment with you, Relian.”

The weight of his father’s gray gaze burned an imaginary hole between Relian’s shoulder blades. He turned around and bowed, touching his fingertips to his forehead in a gesture of respect. “Yes, my king,” he answered formally, using his father’s title as everyone hadn’t yet vacated the room.

His father looked at him for a moment, a frown furrowing his brow. “You are not looking well rested, Relian. I believe you need a peaceful night to yourself.”

Relian’s mind froze at the use of his name. This, plus the concern in Talion’s voice, signaled that a torrent of parental interference awaited him. Best to stop it before it could be unleashed. “I have been busy, Father, as we all have been. We are full on all fronts with the enemy at hand, not to mention the issue of the fading magic.”

Mild irony infiltrated his tone, for his father appointed him many posts to oversee, which kept him busy from daylight to dusk. What did his father expect? Relian didn’t mind the responsibilities, and normally, sleep would only be a small issue, even with the long hours he kept. Though he didn’t need a lot of rest, he still needed some. His forays into the dream world kept him from getting the proper amount. This all affected his mood negatively. While he could hide this from most, his father, damn him, would sense something amiss.

His father’s blonde eyebrows snapped together, frustration turning his eyes black. Talion waited for him to offer up more information. Relian snorted to himself. Well, his father could wait forever. “With your leave, my lord.”

Relian slightly bowed his head in deference and walked away before his father could dismiss him. The rude gesture wouldn’t be lost on the king. No, his father was quite astute and would watch him unrelentingly now. But by the Mystics, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

***

Cal dropped down on her bed. Somehow, she’d made it back to her humble disco-era room, and for once she didn’t mind its decor. She needed to sleep. It didn’t matter how freaky her dreams got, because she couldn’t function anymore. Her manager at work had let her off early because she “looked frazzled.”

Just enough light trickled in from the hallway for the mirror across the room to confirm that. Hair mussed up, dark circles under her eyes. Yeah, like death heated up in hell one too many times. She winced. Frankenstein had nothing on her. Even her friends said so. Well, not the last part about looking like Frankentein, but the hell part, yes.

Instead of heading straight home as she should’ve, she’d caught up to some movie-going friends. She hated the prospect of telling them the truth, so she didn’t. Had the manager needed her? No, of course not. Customers had been sparse. If her friends bought that story, she couldn’t tell, but they didn’t inquire further. Really, she probably hadn’t fooled anyone, given the way she trailed behind the small group like a zombie scenting flesh.