Faolan was having the second-shittiest day of his life.
The ley line spat him out from between like a cat vomiting a hairball. He looked about the same as he lay in the mud gathering the strength to continue. He struggled to rise, stumbling before finally standing upright and lifting his face to the rain. It was hot, sobering, but offered him no relief from his pain and exhaustion.
Attempting to get his bearings, Faolan surveyed the surrounding wilderness. There were no visible landmarks in the dense forest, so he reached his senses out to the leys – to no avail. There was nothing left of his magick to wring out, all of it used up getting him this far. He could feel the ley beneath his feet but no further.
He was close. He had to be.
Capable and self-assured, there was typically very little that could shake Faolan. Yet as he stood in the downpour, trying to determine how close he was to the southern border of the Summer Court, his chest constricted. His heart thundered, he choked on his labored breaths, and his head was spinning. It was a feeling he'd never truly experienced before he’d discovered that Amaryllis was missing: panic.
Titania’s justice had been swift and, though the investigation supported his innocence, nearly fatal. If it hadn’t been for his brother’s quick political maneuvering, Faolan might have been burned before the Court for failing to protect the Summer Princess.
Living had not been much of a mercy. Faolan had been stripped of his rank, fitted with a charmed tracking and tethering bracelet, and shipped off to a shitty job in the hottest part of the Summer Court. His family distanced themselves from him, hoping to save their good reputations from the dark smear on his. Whispers followed him, hushed voices accusing him of the unimaginable. He had lost everything. Worst of all, Amaryllis was gone.
Years were nothing to the duanann, but Faolan had felt every day, every minute like a stone slowly crushing him. For years he had cried out for her in the dark, reaching down the bond between them to prove that she was still out there. There was never an answer.
Silence, agony, guilt – they circled him like sharks, chipping away at his will to endure.
Then, a voice called to him through the dark. Clear, sweet, and so painfully unsure, he'd mistaken it for his cruel imagination at first. He'd wept at the chime of Amaryllis’ voice in his mind. She was alive. She was alive. The line of promise encircling his pinky had burned with his renewed conviction, with hope. Once more his life had purpose.
It had been easy to decide to leave the Summer Court. As soon as he knew she was beyond its reach, he’d abandoned his life without saying goodbye to any of it, without regret or even hesitation.
Getting out of the Summer Court wasn't easy. Lorcán was certainly helping, but he couldn’t cross into Summer territory to pull Faolan out. It was on him to cross the border, which meant traveling to the remnants of the Spring Court was his best shot at escape.
At first, it had been almost too easy. Then, without warning, he'd been yanked from between. Faolan stumbled, alarmed and confused as he tried to keep his feet under him. His wrist burned like it was on fire, the bracelet superheated from traveling between. He had the distinct feeling of someone pulling his hand… toward Vhora. It was a warning that he was beyond the permitted length of his leash. It was a gods damned alarm alerting Summer of his flight.
Over and over, he dove between only to be pulled out. He'd cloaked himself in magick, given everything to make it. He had to make it. There was nothing left for him to give now. He'd have to go the rest of the way on foot.
Pain shot up his arm, white-hot. Faolan looked down and pushed back his sleeve. The bracelet was bright in the darkness of the stormy forest. Dark, spidery tendrils crept over his skin and his limb was heavy. The acrid scent of burned flesh stung in his nose and he quickly yanked the sleeve back down.
Panic seized him, nausea making him unsteady. No. She was alive and waiting for him. He had to make it. He had to keep going.
Faolan slogged for what felt like an eternity through the dark until he finally reached a vantage point. In a flash of lighting he could see a river in the distance and he sucked in a breath. That was it: the border between Summer and Spring.
Strength renewed, he picked his way down the steep incline. Rain continued to pour down, making the way treacherous for his tiring body. Faolan pressed on with as much speed as he could manage. Help was on the other side of that river, waiting for his signal.
The trees grasped at his clothes and hair. The muddy bank sucked at his boots. The current struck him hard, pulling him under. Everything in this humid, miserable corner of nowhere held him back, but Faolan refused to fail now. A little farther and he could rest. A little more, and he'd see her again. He grasped at their bond like a lifeline and his hope carried him forward.
As soon as he pulled himself up onto solid ground on the far bank, Faolan withdrew a wooden cylinder from his pocket. He twisted it, the top half splintering off with a loud crack, and held the open end skyward.
An arrow struck his shoulder with a wet thunk and a second whizzed past his ear. He cried out, staggering. The flare shot off at a sharp angle, twisting and squealing over the treetops. Faolan dropped the spent flare and whirled around in time to avoid being skewered as a Summer Court soldier rushed him.
Adrenaline supplied the strength he didn't have to meet the attack. The former Knight Captain grabbed his adversary by the wrist, angled the blade away, and locked him in melee proximity. The soldier maneuvered and his elbow jabbed Faolan's chest. With a grunt, he drove his knee up into the soldier's gut and his opponent wheezed. As he doubled over, Faolan shoved his fingers into his helm for purchase. He spun them both and used the soldier as a shield against two more incoming arrows. Both shots penetrated the soldier's plate armor. Faolan took the sword from the dying soldier’s hand and let him fall limply to the ground. He reached back and snapped the shaft of the arrow still protruding from his left shoulder with a string of curses.
Two archers stood on the Summer Court bank, already preparing another volley. Beside them, an individual dressed in the garb of a Knight Captain stood with his hand extended over the water. Two more soldiers were crossing the river – running over the top of its frozen surface.
There was no possible outcome where he won this fight. The adrenaline that had fueled his defense was quickly draining out of him, replaced by a bone-deep weariness. The rain on his shoulders felt heavier than before. Faolan had a moment to feel sorry that he'd made it this close to freedom, to Amaryllis. He regretted that his death would sadden her. He regretted a lot of things, actually. Gritting his teeth and ignoring the tremble in his whole body, he braced himself to meet the approaching soldiers. He wouldn't go down without a fight.
The ley line spat him out from between like a cat vomiting a hairball. He looked about the same as he lay in the mud gathering the strength to continue. He struggled to rise, stumbling before finally standing upright and lifting his face to the rain. It was hot, sobering, but offered him no relief from his pain and exhaustion.
Attempting to get his bearings, Faolan surveyed the surrounding wilderness. There were no visible landmarks in the dense forest, so he reached his senses out to the leys – to no avail. There was nothing left of his magick to wring out, all of it used up getting him this far. He could feel the ley beneath his feet but no further.
He was close. He had to be.
Capable and self-assured, there was typically very little that could shake Faolan. Yet as he stood in the downpour, trying to determine how close he was to the southern border of the Summer Court, his chest constricted. His heart thundered, he choked on his labored breaths, and his head was spinning. It was a feeling he'd never truly experienced before he’d discovered that Amaryllis was missing: panic.
Titania’s justice had been swift and, though the investigation supported his innocence, nearly fatal. If it hadn’t been for his brother’s quick political maneuvering, Faolan might have been burned before the Court for failing to protect the Summer Princess.
Living had not been much of a mercy. Faolan had been stripped of his rank, fitted with a charmed tracking and tethering bracelet, and shipped off to a shitty job in the hottest part of the Summer Court. His family distanced themselves from him, hoping to save their good reputations from the dark smear on his. Whispers followed him, hushed voices accusing him of the unimaginable. He had lost everything. Worst of all, Amaryllis was gone.
Years were nothing to the duanann, but Faolan had felt every day, every minute like a stone slowly crushing him. For years he had cried out for her in the dark, reaching down the bond between them to prove that she was still out there. There was never an answer.
Silence, agony, guilt – they circled him like sharks, chipping away at his will to endure.
Then, a voice called to him through the dark. Clear, sweet, and so painfully unsure, he'd mistaken it for his cruel imagination at first. He'd wept at the chime of Amaryllis’ voice in his mind. She was alive. She was alive. The line of promise encircling his pinky had burned with his renewed conviction, with hope. Once more his life had purpose.
It had been easy to decide to leave the Summer Court. As soon as he knew she was beyond its reach, he’d abandoned his life without saying goodbye to any of it, without regret or even hesitation.
Getting out of the Summer Court wasn't easy. Lorcán was certainly helping, but he couldn’t cross into Summer territory to pull Faolan out. It was on him to cross the border, which meant traveling to the remnants of the Spring Court was his best shot at escape.
At first, it had been almost too easy. Then, without warning, he'd been yanked from between. Faolan stumbled, alarmed and confused as he tried to keep his feet under him. His wrist burned like it was on fire, the bracelet superheated from traveling between. He had the distinct feeling of someone pulling his hand… toward Vhora. It was a warning that he was beyond the permitted length of his leash. It was a gods damned alarm alerting Summer of his flight.
Over and over, he dove between only to be pulled out. He'd cloaked himself in magick, given everything to make it. He had to make it. There was nothing left for him to give now. He'd have to go the rest of the way on foot.
Pain shot up his arm, white-hot. Faolan looked down and pushed back his sleeve. The bracelet was bright in the darkness of the stormy forest. Dark, spidery tendrils crept over his skin and his limb was heavy. The acrid scent of burned flesh stung in his nose and he quickly yanked the sleeve back down.
Panic seized him, nausea making him unsteady. No. She was alive and waiting for him. He had to make it. He had to keep going.
Faolan slogged for what felt like an eternity through the dark until he finally reached a vantage point. In a flash of lighting he could see a river in the distance and he sucked in a breath. That was it: the border between Summer and Spring.
Strength renewed, he picked his way down the steep incline. Rain continued to pour down, making the way treacherous for his tiring body. Faolan pressed on with as much speed as he could manage. Help was on the other side of that river, waiting for his signal.
The trees grasped at his clothes and hair. The muddy bank sucked at his boots. The current struck him hard, pulling him under. Everything in this humid, miserable corner of nowhere held him back, but Faolan refused to fail now. A little farther and he could rest. A little more, and he'd see her again. He grasped at their bond like a lifeline and his hope carried him forward.
As soon as he pulled himself up onto solid ground on the far bank, Faolan withdrew a wooden cylinder from his pocket. He twisted it, the top half splintering off with a loud crack, and held the open end skyward.
An arrow struck his shoulder with a wet thunk and a second whizzed past his ear. He cried out, staggering. The flare shot off at a sharp angle, twisting and squealing over the treetops. Faolan dropped the spent flare and whirled around in time to avoid being skewered as a Summer Court soldier rushed him.
Adrenaline supplied the strength he didn't have to meet the attack. The former Knight Captain grabbed his adversary by the wrist, angled the blade away, and locked him in melee proximity. The soldier maneuvered and his elbow jabbed Faolan's chest. With a grunt, he drove his knee up into the soldier's gut and his opponent wheezed. As he doubled over, Faolan shoved his fingers into his helm for purchase. He spun them both and used the soldier as a shield against two more incoming arrows. Both shots penetrated the soldier's plate armor. Faolan took the sword from the dying soldier’s hand and let him fall limply to the ground. He reached back and snapped the shaft of the arrow still protruding from his left shoulder with a string of curses.
Two archers stood on the Summer Court bank, already preparing another volley. Beside them, an individual dressed in the garb of a Knight Captain stood with his hand extended over the water. Two more soldiers were crossing the river – running over the top of its frozen surface.
There was no possible outcome where he won this fight. The adrenaline that had fueled his defense was quickly draining out of him, replaced by a bone-deep weariness. The rain on his shoulders felt heavier than before. Faolan had a moment to feel sorry that he'd made it this close to freedom, to Amaryllis. He regretted that his death would sadden her. He regretted a lot of things, actually. Gritting his teeth and ignoring the tremble in his whole body, he braced himself to meet the approaching soldiers. He wouldn't go down without a fight.
