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The priest washed the bodies of Gabriel and Tristan with rags soaked in a milky white liquid on an altar at the centre of the city’s graveyard. The moon hung overhead, its light breaking through a bare, twisting canopy, as soldiers gathered around the burial site. Shaking branches of thyme over the bodies, the priest hummed a solemn tune. The act was to guide Gabriel and Tristan’s spirits back to the Life Stream, the resting place and repository of souls for the fey.
“May these two find their way back to their origin, their lives a fleeting moment on the material plane, destined to live on forever in the cycle of reincarnation.” The priest pressed their hands together and bowed deeply over the altar as silence hung in the air.
Dai motioned to Fendrick, “Though your kind can’t see it, their spirits just departed this world.” The crowd followed the nothingness above the two bodies to the sky, and Fendrick followed along despite his imperception.
“Thank you, Dai,” whispered Fendrick.
“It will be but a sparrow’s breath before these two mighty warriors return, in whatever form the El’Dorei sees fit. May we be blessed by their presence once more.” The priest stepped forward, “We will now begin the burial.” Four other elves dressed in white robes approached from the flanks of the ceremony site, each pair of them lifting their respective body onto cloth stretchers. Slowly, the two were lowered into individual graves, and their bodies covered in soil. The sound of dirt being shovelled onto the pair filled the silence, covered only by the occasional cough or shuffling of weary feet.
“Your souls have returned from whence they came, and your bodies have been offered back to Eden. With that our ceremony is complete. Thank you all for joining us this fine evening.” The priest bowed deeply to the standing crowds of soldiers, who returned the favour.
“I know death is a frightening and painful thing for your kind, Fendrick, but you need not worry for Tristan or Gabriel. With a proper sending ceremony, they will return, when they are required. Just not as we know them.” Dai patted Fendrick on the shoulder as they walked towards the graveyard’s exit, shuffling behind the slow queues of other soldiers.
“I appreciate your reassurances.” Fendrick undid the top few buttons of his shirt, easing up the pressure on his neck and chest. “I’m glad that we could get them home.”
“Aye. I wouldn’t have let them rot in that forsaken forest. Not like my family. Come, we’ll drink to them tonight alongside our comrades.” Dai raised his eyebrows towards one of the queues of soldiers, heading to the barrack’s mess hall.
“I’m sorry, Dai – Fenerra has me rushed off my feet. I must attend her. She barely gave me enough time to see Tristan and Gabriel off.” Stopping a few metres outside of the graveyard, Fendrick offered a hand to Dai.
“I had almost forgotten why we struggled to get on, you teacher’s pet.” Dai jibed at Fendrick, offering a light smirk to betray his teasing. “Get going then, I wouldn’t want to see you get on her bad side.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow, Dai.” Shaking hands, the two said their farewells and Fendrick began making his way to the palace. The clamour of the crowds faded as he made his way into the city proper. Passing between the harsh azure glow of the streetlamps, Fendrick stepped up the spiralling staircases to the upper levels of the city, their marble steps cracked and crumbling away. Before long, he had made his way to the palace courtyard. Nodding his way past the palace guards, Fendrick stepped into the shadow of the great tree. Pearlescent light shone off of the alien fruits of the palace gardens, washing the area in a murky blue glow. Fendrick rubbed his hand over his shoulder; the feeling of being watched was one he was used to – the city streets were full of prying eyes and opportunistic rogues – but the cloying sensation always grew as he stepped closer to the palace. Today was no exception.
“Sir,” the guards at the front door of the palace stamped their spears to the ground as Fendrick approached.
“Evening; Rita, Gira.” Fendrick gave a knowing nod to the guards, before pushing open the huge, intricately decorated wood door.
As the doors squeaked shut, Fendrick was consumed by the silence of the palace. The moonlight shone through the window above the door, providing a smattering of pale, natural light to the hall. As he walked towards the stairs leading to the throne room, the twisting, gnarled wood braziers at either side of the staircase burst into life with grey-blue unnatural firelight. Shadows crawled around the palace grounds as Fendrick stepped up the stairs, his eyes and ears filled with ephemeral stimulation. He’d learnt that it was no use to try and ascertain the source of the ephemera; the palace was a living being of its own, and he could feel its animosity towards him each time he stepped into its bowels. Making his way to the top of the staircase, Fendrick rasped on the mahogany knocker of the throne room’s door.
“Come in.”
Fendrick pushed open the door and stepped into the chamber. Sat in her throne, he could see Fenerra being hand-fed by a slight elf dressed in drab robes.
“Fenny, how nice of you to join me. How was the funeral?” With a wave, Fenerra dismissed her aide, who shuffled away to one side of the room. “No, I meant out,” Fenerra shot daggers at the elf, who collected their robes and dashed past Fendrick, slipping out of the rapidly closing door.
“Hard, but I appreciate you allowing my attendance.” Fendrick bowed slightly, while continuing towards the Queen.
“Oh boo, come here.” Fenerra pulled the air between them taut with her index finger, and Fendrick felt himself being drawn to her. Her long brown hair flowed over her deep inset collarbones, framing her beautiful but angular face that was making kisses at Fendrick. With a snap of her fingers, her throne extended its width, and she pulled her legs up onto its surface. She circled the space beside her with her long, spindly finger, designating Fendrick’s objective. “I’m sorry that Tristan didn’t make it.”
Fendrick sat alongside her, and she moved to rest her head in his lap. “Have our scouts worked out who his killer was?” Stroking her hair, Fenerra purred.
“Yes. You’re not going to believe it, but it was the prince. Of Inarell. Ifan ap Rhydian.” Fenerra chuckled lightly, before stroking Fendrick’s knee over his slacks.
“The prince? Why would the Inarellian prince be in Fandelran?” Fendrick caught the gaze of Fenerra as she looked up at him.
“No idea, my love. An unhappy coincidence, I’m sure. But Tristan felled their princess, and I’m sure that’s riled up those unruly imperialists. One less nuisance to deal with in our endeavours to control the Well.” Fenerra’s gaze dropped back as she curled up into his lap.
“Their princess…” Fendrick looked away, across the throne room towards the glass panes inset in the walls to his right. The gnarled roots of the great tree twisted around the palace, blocking the view out further than a few hundred metres. Snapping back to Fenerra, Fendrick brushed her hair behind her long-pointed ear before reaching his arm to stroke her shoulder. “Have we taken control of the forest yet?”
“Almost. Without Holiwier, the protections on the forest are weak and absent of the magic of the Well, the fey there are falling into line to have access to our stockpiles.” Yawning, Fenerra clasped her hand on Fendrick’s, intertwining her fingers in his. “Come, let’s retire to bed. I have a great many favours to give to my Champion of Fandelran.”
