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Faenir’s raven hair fell behind him, tousled in the nightly winds. Only the twisted twin braids tumbled across his chest. He was a vision of ruby, white and gold. The tunic he wore was far grander than mine. It was lined with a strand of gold at his neckline which dipped dramatically to expose the shadowed curves of muscle hidden beneath. Across his shoulders were plates of gleaming brass metal which draped into a cloak of similar toning at his back. What kept his outfit in place were the vivid, large stones of ruby pinned at his chest.He dripped in wealth, and I realised quickly that I gawped at him as he did me.
“I was hoping you would have changed your mind and this evening’s festivities would be forgotten and thus missed,” Faenir said as I reached the gravelled path he stood upon. That was his greeting, not that I expected a polite hello or cared for it.
“You would have liked that, wouldn’t you…?” I brushed past him, uncaring, as though I knew where I was walking to. In fact, I did not. What was left before me was the Styx, yet I could not imagine how else we would leave Haxton.
“It would have saved a rather large amount of discomfort, that I cannot deny.”
I smiled at the idea of Faenir being uneasy. “What a shame.”
The sound of his footfalls, crunching over the pebble-stoned gravel informed me that Faenir followed. Within a few strides he had passed me, strolling towards the stretch of water that spread out around the manor. “Come, it is best the ferryman is not kept waiting.”
I didn’t get a chance to question him as I was forced to quicken my pace to keep up.
The same wooden dock I had seen days before was now glowing beneath the light of a hovering flame. A boat had moored against it, rocking gently by the lapping of dark waters it rested upon. In it stood a figure draped in heavy folds of material that even the lantern he held could not penetrate to reveal his face.
Although I could not see his features, I felt his hidden gaze follow me, judging and cold. My hand moved for the handle of the knife I had brought with me, buried in the belt of my trousers, one that Faenir did not know about. Or perhaps he did, and he enjoyed the idea of me being armed.
I faltered a step as we reached the haunting figure. Faenir did not share my sudden discomfort as he took to the dock in silence. I allowed myself only a moment of hesitation before I chased after him.
“May I?” Faenir offered a hand as he stood beyond the boat. Not once had he regarded the figure who stood within it or cared to notice that a third person was even among our presence.
I glanced to his outstretched hand and frowned naturally. “That will not be necessary.”
I wondered if Faenir could hear the lie in my voice. Standing upon the rickety dock I was more than aware of the shades that waited within the darkness of Styx’s water. I could not see them, but their presence was as real as the silent figure within the boat and Faenir’s outstretched hand.He did not lower it, not until I forced myself to take a cautious step into the boat which swayed awfully beneath me. It stilled only when Faenir climbed in; his presence was the heavy pressure that kept it from rocking.
“With haste, Charon.” It was the first time Faenir spoke to the figure, and I found myself loosing a breath in relief that my mind was not making his appearance up as some cruel vision. “And may I take this moment to remind you that strays are not permitted entry to Haxton without my consent.”
The figure turned, hoisting the pole the lantern was draped across. Water sloshed and I soon noticed that the pole extended far beneath the dark waters of the Styx. With a great heave, the boat began to move.
“Myrinn Evelina wished to speak with you, Master,” a whispered voice replied from beneath the folds of his cloak. The sound was both awful and pleasant, like the scratching of nails against glass.It rattled the evening winds as though echoing among the dark in which it spoke from. “I cannot deny the bloodline oflife.”
“Bloodline or not,” Faenir responded, voice tight as though he held back his true wrath, “You are mine, Charon. Not theirs. If you are so careless to make such mistakes again then you shall find yourself returned to the pits of the Styx where I dragged you up from all those years ago. Do you understand?”
“Indeed,” Charon replied softly.
Faenir did not respond, clearly satisfied the hooded figure would listen to the reprimand as a result of escorting Myrinn to Haxton.
Neither spoke again. Instead, their silence gave way to the rushing of water that sang beneath the small vessel as it cut across the lake.We glided across the Styx with ease, aided by the motion of the staff-like pole that Charon pushed in and out of the water.
Faenir simply watched me as Haxton Manor became a dot in the distance. I was glad for the quiet, for I had nothing to say to him. Although the tracing marks his eyes left across my body made me want to itch the feeling from my skin.All I wanted was for this journey to end so I could speak with Myrinn. I cared little for anything else.
“You are cold,” Faenir broke the silence suddenly. It was not a question, more a statement, and he was not wrong.
I had not noticed the chill until he spoke. Then I realised the ache in my jaw was from the chattering of teeth and my limbs quivered violently as our boat ripped through the winds.
“Do not concern yourself with—” Before I could finish Faenir had shifted the cloak from his back and threw it over my shoulders. It settled upon me like the falling of a feather, slow and gentle. But I could not deny the warmth his body had left imprinted upon the material. I chose not to refuse him as I hugged it closer to me, giving into a moment of weakness for the reward of comfort.
There was no thanks to share, nor did Faenir expect it.
We fell back into our silence as the boat moved towards the far-off shore and the outline of mountains that crowned it.
Home. Auriol. Run.
My attention fixated on the silhouette of that monstrous tree. The closer we moved towards it, the sharper the edges of its blurred outline became.
Noticing my attention, Faenir spoke up. “The Great Tree signifies the very heart of our realm. Nyssa, it is called by the same name of the Goddess that planted its seed at the beginning of time.”
It felt as though I held a coveted book in my hands, ready to open the page and uncover wisdom that no other had the luxury of knowing. No matter how my interest burned I had to show a lack of care to Faenir.
