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Dranian Evelry and How it all Began in Ashi-Calla Village, Part 2

It was hard to find the girl with no name most of the time, as she always seemed to be hiding. But Dranian crossed her here and there. She'd shoot him a subtle smile from far down the road, or she'd playfully tug a handful of his jacket as they passed each other in the street. They didn't stop to talk—that would only draw attention. But he became acutely aware when she was in view, or passing by, or busy doing something a stone's throw away.

To make things more interesting, Dranian studied at the tree-cove library and mastered the art of elftouch. She'd nearly squealed when he traced a phantom finger along the back of her shoulders from far away as he hid behind a trunk in the woods. She'd spun with wild eyes, looking around at the woodcutter fairies chopping logs, and Dranian had nearly laughed out loud—which would have been startling enough to anyone who heard. It became a game when she noticed him hiding there. He felt a poke right back and he shrieked, alerting the woodcutter fairies all through the forest. When she did it again, it became clear she'd mastered the art of elftouch in her lifetime too, and far better than he had. He hadn't been able to scamper out of the forest fast enough as she'd poked him over and over until he was out of sight.

Dranian used his next month's coin to buy a new spear—a larger one, carved with the forest beauties of Ashi-Calla. It was strikingly magnificent and better than any other thing he owned. Weeks earlier, he would have thought he had no use for such a weapon. A half-spear would have been enough to fend off the forest creatures. But he had a strange new ambition to learn to use a full-sized weapon now. To make something of himself.

The woods became his training grounds. He fought the trunks, stabbing and slicing, and leaping high over fallen logs. He became faster at running, faster at stabbing, faster at everything with each passing day. He became obsessive, so focussed that he lost track of hours and missed work. He endured several tantrums from his father and even one from his mother who until now had hardly acknowledged his existence. He became so engrossed in the hope that he could be useful as a spear-wielder that he didn't even notice when the girl went missing.

He came back from the woods one day, drenched in sweat and rain, his spear slick in his grip. The village roads were muddy and puddles formed in the uneven places. The rain almost drowned out the sound of the shouting males gathering around the forest hall. Dranian meant to walk by and let them be, but he glanced over, curious what all the fuss was about.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw one of them shove a bright-eyed, black-haired female into the log wall of the hall. She looked afraid; she looked angry.

"You little witch!" the fae spat at her. "How many of our dreams have you tried to slip into? Did you think hiding what you are would save you?"

Dranian watched in dismay as the males crouched to pick up large stones. He found himself moving toward the scene, found himself bringing his spear to life. He found himself shoving the males out of the way and standing in between them and the girl with bright eyes who had never been given a name.

The males observed Dranian's spear, one of them taking a step back. Dranian didn't know what to say—if he should announce his intentions. If he should beg for mercy. He didn't say anything at all.

"What are you going to do with that?" one of them asked with a mocking snarl. Fairy eyes narrowed on him, their new target, and suddenly clear thoughts vanished from Dranian's mind. He thought he might tip over. His heart took on a new, uneven rhythm as he felt himself trapped back in a place he had been before—the subject of their hatred.

Quiet sounds of the girl weeping came from behind him. Dranian felt his chest tighten amidst his body rejecting his control, his hands beginning to shake. One of the males easily smacked his spear away; it ripped from his grip and rolled across the ground.

"Are you really going to take these rocks, Evelry?" another male asked as he tossed his rock into the air and caught it again. "Or are you going to move out of the way?"

He should move. He should run and take the girl with him. But…

His mind fell into chaos, spinning, turning blank. He forgot where he was as his breathing became heavy and fast.

Rocks began to fly. Dranian hardly knew what he was doing, hardly remembered his own name, but one thing he did know—that this girl would die if he didn't do something. He took a rock to the shoulder as he spun around and placed his body over hers, holding his arms up to shield her face. Rock after rock pelted his back and he gritted his teeth, his mind melting and sharpening and blanking. The girl cried, whispering his name.

He did not know her name to say it back.

Only when he collapsed did the fae grow tired of it. They laughed as they walked away, and while the colours in his vision turned to blurs, Dranian lost his consciousness and was swept away into slumber.

A voice appeared on the cusp of his dream, not threatening to come in, not pushing. She just cried and said, "Stay alive."

Dranian could hardly move the next morning when he awoke in his bed. He wondered why his father wasn't in his room, shaking him awake, yelling at him for not being at work. He winced as he peeled back his covers and tried to stand.

When he came into the main space of the hut, he realized the rest of his family was missing, too.

"Father?" he dared to call, finding his voice dry. He swallowed and tried again, "Father?"

Still, no one answered.

Dranian came outside to blinding sunlight. His eyes stung like they were full of sand, and he lifted his arm to shield himself.

When he did, he saw his father and his mother waiting for him. Along with six fairies in rich-looking crimson robes, complete with expensive leather forest boots, jagged-edged pauldrons, and detailed threaded pictures of black land dragons across their chests. One of them held a flag with a family symbol Dranian didn't recognize.

"There he is. That's the son I was telling you about. The one who has mastered the way of the spear." His father's voice filled Dranian's ears. He felt for his pocket but realized he didn't have his spear with him. His father left the fairies in crimson to approach Dranian, and Dranian slowly lowered his arm.

"Father—?"

"You've been sold to this family as a fairy guard," his father stated matter-of-factly. Then, too quiet for the others to hear, he said, "You have shamed me in every way possible up until now. The last thing I ever ask of you is to keep your illness contained until you're long gone so they don't send you back to me."

Dranian's mouth parted. His father's claims didn't sink in—they couldn't. Because they couldn't be true. But as Dranian perceived that his father showed no signs of remorse or regret, he placed a hand over his heart where it began to thud. And thud. And… No. He could not do this. Not now; not when his father had made this one last request of him…

"Dranian!"

His head spun toward a girl racing from the forest. She had a thin green wreath in her black hair, a bruised lip, and tears in her eyes. Dranian noticed his half-spear strapped to her waist by a belt.

His father stepped in to cut the girl off, and for the first time in his faeborn life, Dranian shoved his father aside. His father blinked in surprise as Dranian strode past him to meet the girl.

He caught her. She caught him.

They caught each other.

He wanted to tell her that he'd been sold. That this was goodbye. That his father hadn't found a way to love him after all, just like she'd said. But words were hard, and so, she spoke for them both.

"I've been sold, too," she said. "Word spread through the village after those fairies found out about me. A passing merchant ship just purchased me as a slave. The captain went to see my mother as soon as he learned what I could do."

"What can you do?" Dranian asked. Still, after all this time, she'd never told him. But he shook his head. Now was not the time. "What's the name of your ship?" he asked quietly instead.

She cast him a weary smile. "You'll never find me," she promised. "The captain will use me to harm his enemies. I'll be hidden away forever, probably in a cage."

Dranian's lip curled. "The name of your ship," he said again, growling this time.

His parents called from behind him, making threats. His father would grab him soon if he didn't go.

The girl looked back and forth between his eyes, seeming to change her mind. "The Mycra Sentorious," she whispered.

Dranian filled his chest with air. "I'll work hard, and I'll become rich," he promised her. "And I will find your ship and purchase your freedom. Just hang on until then."

Dranian was torn back from her, and she was yanked the other way by the fairies in crimson. A series of hands shuffled Dranian through tall grass until he was lifted and thrown onto a reindeer. His wrists were tied and tethered to the deer's antlers so he couldn't escape.

He looked back at the girl with no name, at his childling home, at his village. He took it all in one last time as he was led away by a cavalcade of deer and beasts that would take him to his new home.

Four weeks later, Dranian got word the captain of the Mycra Sentorious had been driven mad with nightmares and had sunk his own ship to the bottom of the Twilight Lakes with his whole crew on board.

No one aboard the ship had survived.

Dranian spent eight years serving the House of Lyro, being mistreated only until Shayne Lyro, the heir apparent, decided that no fairy should be allowed to torment his fairy guard but him. The spoiled, white-haired Lord only needed to hand out a few punishments of his own—laughter-driven rampages involving the tearing out of tongues, the throwing of enchanted daggers, and the shoving of disobedient fools off the pagoda—for his new rule to stick. This one single grace gave Dranian the courage to survive; it was the security that made him have no reason to panic most days. And after a year of being a terrible guard in the beginning, Dranian Evelry from Ashi-Calla Village started to excel in his role for the first time. He became useful.

One night in his third year, he allowed himself to think of the girl with no name whom he had decided to forget about. He snuck off to the Lyro library at midnight to study "dreamslippers." It was only then he understood the magnitude of what the girl had been and why her power was so coveted and feared. It was then he understood how her ship must have gone down, too. That she had likely drowned an entire crew, along with herself. The thought left a dreadful pang in his chest. He put the book away, along with his curiosity. At least she was at peace now. At least she would never be tormented again.

When Shayne Lyro lost his title and was sent off to the Silver Castle, Dranian had nowhere else to go. So, he followed the young Lord in secret. And there, he came upon the ward of Queene Levress; a village-born fairy like Dranian, who had risen to power from nothing. The ward's name was Cressica Alabastian, and he was the greatest fighter Dranian had ever known in his young faeborn life. Watching him on the training grounds shifted something in Dranian's spirit.

From that day forward, Dranian aspired to be like the great Cressica Alabastian. He swore his allegiance, vowing to give everything he had to the Prince of the North Corner, including his life, should it be required.

Never once did he regret it.