"The Winter Unseelie´s Daughter-Chapter One" by Charlene ´The Amazing Bubble Girl´ M. Mattson

Chapter One

The Woodland Cradle

Xamia, Landana

1730, Third Era of Alora

Early spring had descended upon the small town of Xamia, coating the lower plateau to the west of the town in flowers, and letting the forest to the east of the town spring into bud.  Xamia itself was coming alive with farmers beginning work on their land and the merchants planning their trips south for trade.  In the forest to the east, another was planning a trip for trade, though he was only going to Xamia.

          Which is just as well, Ross White thought, looking in mingled alarm and pride at the pile of furs and smooth boxes of bows he would be taking to Xamia to trade for supplies.  He had managed to pile everything into the small two wheeled wagon he used for supply runs, but he was beginning to wonder if his elderly stallion Leopold would be able to handle the load. 

          “What do you think?” he said aloud to the graying brown stallion who whickered a little and sighed in resignation.  His aging hound Ruty gave the pile a similar look.

          “Yeah, you’re walking,” Ross said to the hound who whuffed a little.  The young man raked back his long brown hair and hitched Leopold to the wagon, resolving to walk beside the wagon rather than ride and load the wagon down further.  At least we don’t have to go too far.

          Despite the heavy load, Leopold pulled the wagon with a will down the rough road that his wagon had made over the years.  Ruty trotted beside the wagon, his nose gathering in the smells of spring, but he was well trained enough not to go haring after very scent.  Spring wasn’t the time for hunting, and the dog knew it as well as Ross did.  Ross watched the surroundings as well, not out of concern, but in appreciation.  After four months of ice and snow, it was nice to see greenery again and smell something other than wood smoke and frost.  He almost regretted leaving the edge of the forest and entering the town of Xamia.

          Xamia had been a strong part of Ross’ life for as long as he could remember, though he never actually lived there.  The town was a nice place to visit, but he couldn’t imagine living there.  He had lived in the forest all of his life and while it made for a quiet life, it also made it difficult for most of the townspeople to treat him with any degree of trust.  The Xamia woodlands held more rumors than trees and since he lived there, he tended to be lumped in with them.  However, there were a few townspeople who didn’t bother with such suspicions, and it was there Ross made his way.  His biggest human friend was the owner of the large goods store, a giant of a man named Rorik whom Ross had traded with for as long as he could remember.

          Rorik was in his customary position behind his counter when Ross came in.  The large, older man hadn’t changed much in the years Ross had known him-he had shaggy dark hair and stormy grey eyes.  All that had changed over the two decades that Ross remembered him was a speckling of grey in his hair and the deepening of laughter lines on his craggy face.  These were directed towards Ross as he came in and the young man immediately felt as though he had come to his second home.

          “Wonderin’ when I was te see ye agin,” the man rumbled, shaking his hand and smelling of tobacco and cinnamon.  “After the snow melted, I figured ye’d be lookin’ round for refills.”

          Ross smiled in return.  “I think I did pretty well for myself this winter,” he said.

          “Uh huh,” Rorik said, his eyes gleaming with doubt.  “I’m sure.  Still, you’re probably missin’ fruit and cloths.”

          “Fruit’s overrated,” Ross chuckled, watching Rorik begin heaving bags and crates over to a large oak table where all dealings were done.  Rorik gave him a mildly sharp look and Ross hastily changed the subject.

          “I could use some nails,” he said.  “The wind tore off some of the roof and I patched it, but nothing can beat nails and wood.”

          “Aye.  Ye don’t want to have tarp o’er yer head when the spring rains come,” Rorik said with the wisdom of someone who had lived in the same region for a lifetime.

          Ross eyed the growing pile of boxes, sacks and crates and whistled a little.  “It’s a good thing I brought a lot of furs,” he said.

          “Yer last bunch brought in a bundle,” Rorik said.  “Hope you brought more like them.”

          “Come see for yourself,” Ross invited and they trooped outside where the pile of furs and boxes seemed even more pronounced.  Rorik whistled a little when he saw Ross’ largest furs-the rough black grey fur of a primeval bear. 

          “How’d you get this?” Rorik asked, fingering the rough fur.  “Usually it takes a whole band to bring one of these down.”

          Ross put a finger to his lips.  “I took it off the loser in the fight for mating rights,” he said.  “But don’t tell anyone I scavenged it.”

          Rorik laughed shortly and nodded.  “No one’ll hear it from me,” he promised.  “I’ve got someone who’ll be interested in this piece.”

          “I brought a bunch of bows too,” Ross said, digging the boxes out from the lower chamber in the wagon where the wood gleamed.  Here Rorik looked even more interested.

          “Some of those storms made it impossible to hunt,” Ross said.  “I’m going to need some more steel.”

          Rorik’s face darkened slightly.  “That’s going to cost you lad,” he pointed out.  “I haven’t made my mountain run yet.”

          Ross shrugged.  “That’s all right.  I can wait.”

          Rorik carefully opened the boxes and whistled a little, making Ross feel a bubble of pride rise in him.  “I’m sure you can get a good price for those,” he said.

          Rorik nodded.  “Word of your work is getting far,” he said.  “I got an order for these from the shamia tribe to the south.”

          Ross felt his eyes widen.  “Really?”

          “They give them to their newest hunters,” Rorik said.  “They’re perfect for the young ‘uns.”

          Ross blinked and managed not to look to proud of himself.  “If they need anymore…” he hinted.

          “I’ll tell you,” Rorik laughed.

          They went back inside with the furs and boxes and there Rorik began tallying up the goods that Ross would need.  However, the merchant’s mind clearly wasn’t on his work; his dark eyes were distant and he was only absently throwing things together.

          “Rorik,” Ross said, trying to puncture through the strange mood that Rorik was in.  “What’s wrong?”

          Rorik’s eyes snapped back to reality.  “Nothin’ really,” he said.  “Jest rumors goin’ round that Xamia’s soon to play host to the last of the Morris Riders.”

          Ross tilted his head a little.  “What are the Morris Riders and why do we care?”

          “They’re a bunch of… well, Mistress only knows.  Cavalry from the west I suppose, though they don’t owe allegiance to anyone but themselves.  They’re goin’ to be greeted with a lot of suspicion round these parts-supposedly, they’re cursed or some such thing.”

          Ross snorted.  “Don’t these people have anything better to worry about?”

          Rorik smiled faintly, but his eyes were still looking distracted, so Ross sensed that thee was more to it than simple rumor.

          “Rorik?”

          “This bunch is different.  Said that some of their past leaders ran with demons and dark fey.  And now, they’re all but gone.”  He shook himself a bit.  “Ah well, not yer concern I suppose, though it’ll probably be worth a look.”

          Ross shrugged a little.  “Maybe.  When are they coming?”

          “Jest in a day or two,” Rorik said.  “Should be interestin’ anyhow.”

          Ross nodded a little and helped Rorik reload the wagon with everything he had traded for and a small bag of silver besides.  Then he urged Leopold back to the woods where he made his home, his mind still full from Rorik’s information.

~

          When Ross got home, he found that he had to dodge around a large mushroom ring that had sprouted up in his absence.  He stared at the wide capped, tall mushrooms for a moment and then looked at his house where a familiar figure stood on the windowsill, arms crossed over her bare chest and stomach.

          “Bello,” he said, jumping off the wagon and carefully navigating the mushroom ring.  The tiny fairy waved a little at him, but waited until he was standing over her before saying anything.  He could make out her diminutive features far better from here; the fairy was only about four inches tall with a cascade of thin black hair and white skin like the mushrooms she lived in.  The only clothing she wore was the leather belt that held her tiny rapier so he could see her tiny breasts and bare legs. 

          “What are you doing here?” Ross asked, shoving open the door and window so that he could start bringing in his supplies and let Bello in the house.

          The mushroom fairy snorted in exasperation. “Our last ring burned down,” she said and Ross stared in shock at her.  “Oh we’re fine.  Taki got into a fight with a pseudodragon and lost control of her magic.  Now we’re out a home for a bit, so we’ll need to stay here if you don’t mind.”

          “I don’t mind,” Ross said comfortably.  He had known Bello his entire life as well-the tiny fairy had the heart of a lion and kept a strict watch on her clan of fairies.  He had seen her fend off everything from fire ants to giant hornets; her clan was the safest in the forest.  “How is everyone?”

          “Six sproutlings,” Bello said, shaking her head a little.  “Six.  I couldn’t believe it.”

          “Nothing wrong with that,” Ross said.  “It’s good that your clan is growing.”

          Bello fiddled with her rapier.  “I don’t like it,” she said, startling him out of stocking his pantries.  “Many sproutlings means deaths as well.”

          Ross bit his lip.  “That’s a little pessimistic, don’t you think?”

          Bello shrugged with the air of someone who wasn’t going to explain something to someone who wouldn’t understand and Ross pulled his mind away as well.  He gave her a sly look.

          “Been busy this winter then?” he asked.

          Bellow snorted again.  “None of them budded from me,” she said and Ross blinked again, remembering suddenly that mushroom fairies didn’t have children the way that humans did.  She ignored him in favor of restoring order among her clan who were all clambering around the packages that Ross had yet to open.  Although Ross couldn’t hear what she yelled at them, it must have been something threatening, for they backed off.

          “If they’re patient, I’ll feed all of you,” Ross laughed.  It wasn’t as if a feast for mushroom fairies would cost him much-just honey, bread and tea.  Bello gave him a wry look and whistled at her clan.  This seemed to be a signal to help Ross, for he found many of his packages mysteriously piling up by the door and in the lean-to.  Fairies.

          Afterwards, as Bello’s clan savaged a loaf of bread and a bowl of honey, Bello settled with her thimble of tea and eyed Ross shrewdly until he was forced to look at her.  The tiny fairy had a frown on her face.

          “I heard that the Morris riders were coming into Xamia,” she said as Ross finished pushing the last of his things into their places.

“Yeah.  What do you know about them?”

Bello shrugged.  “Mortal horse riders.  Other mortals act silly around them.  They had some stains of unseelie a little bit ago.  Other than that, they’re just mortals.”

“Stains of unseelie?” Ross asked in mild alarm. 

Bello nodded a bit.  “I don’t know anything about it,” she said. 

Ross frowned though.  “Do you think they’re… dangerous?”

“I don’t know.”  Bello eyed him keenly.  “Are you going to see them?”

“You’re the second person to ask me that,” Ross sighed.  “Maybe I should.”

“Then you can tell me about them,” Bello said, grinning a little.  She looked around the room where her clan was in varying stages of stuffing themselves and shook her head.  “Come on!” she shouted.  “We still have moving to do.  Out!”  She winked a bit at Ross.  “We’ll leave you alone for a bit.’

          “Yeah,” Ross said and watched the fairies fling themselves out the open window around Bello.  Their chieftess went last, back flipping out the window.

          Ross spent a few happy minutes listening to fairy laughter outside while he unloaded the last of his crates, noticing with a smirk the new cottons and bedding that he’d neglected to tell Rorik he needed and that Rorik had given him anyway.  He was about to set up his new bed when the laughter outside abruptly silenced.  The quiet rang in his ears and drove him to his bow and quiver and outside where even the birds had quieted.

          When he saw the figure standing quietly on the other side of the mushroom ring though, he lowered his bow.  It was a woman, but she was tall with woody brown skin and long green hair.  The oddest part was her eyes which were the color of hardened tree amber that had been worn smooth by time.  She didn’t even have pupils, but Ross knew she was looking straight at him.  The mushroom fairies had disappeared.

          “Lady,” he managed to get out.  He’d never had dealings with the more powerful fey of the wood, though he knew they existed.  The reality of their existence struck him like a hammer blow.  “Can I help you?”

          ‘The Morris Riders come,’ she said in a voice that sounded like wind through leaves.

“I know,” Ross said.  “The fey seem interested in them.”

‘Their bloodline carries the unseelie,’ the dryad said.  ‘They are to be wary of.’

“I heard something like that,” Ross said.  “I didn’t know if it was true.”

‘It is.’

“So why are you here?”

‘To warn you hunter.  The Morris Riders are dangerous and they carry one in their numbers now who is an outlander, strange for mortals.  The unseelie blood in their veins may cause them to do dangerous things.’

“To Xamia?”

The dryad shrugged.  ‘To anyone.  To other fey.’

          Ah, Ross thought.  The fey thought of themselves first and everyone else a distant second.  However, the arrival of the dryad gave him pause for thought.  If she was worried about trouble, then he should be too.

          “I’ll keep an eye on them,” he said.

          ‘For a time anyway,’ the dryad said cryptically and vanished into the surrounding trees.  Bello came out when she left and perched on the cap of her mushroom.

          “A forest Queen,” she said, her white skin a little drawn.

          Ross nodded a little.  “If she thinks I should check out those Morris Riders…”

          “Then you should,” Bello finished and dove back into her mushroom home.

~

          He was made aware of the arrival of the Morris Riders a couple of days later when the mushroom fairies outside set up a terrified uproar and tried to flee deeper into the woodlands.  Ross charged outside to see Bello narrowly keeping order with a pained look on her face.

          “Bello,” he said over the clamor of her people.  “What’s going on?”

          “There’s the taint of unseelie close by,” she said between shouting at her people.  “We can feel it-it burns.”

          “Take your people inside my house,” Ross said.  “You can keep an eye on it while I’m out.”  

          Bello nodded and half herded, half bullied her terrified clan into the cabin.  She went in last and cast Ross a worried look, but she didn’t say anything and Ross only nodded a little before walking towards Xamia.  Leopold would be better served at home, but Ruty trotted beside him, his ears flopping uncertainly.

          Xamia was dead quiet when he arrived, other than the sound of hoof beats on hard packed road.  The source of the noise came from a dozen horses, all with well armed riders in dark armor.  All of the horses looked swift rather than heavily muscled, so that the one muscle bound stallion stood out, as did his rider.  She was being given a berth by all except for one tall man with black hair.  He chatted easily with her, but she only respond monosyllabically.  Ross made his way to the dry goods store where Rorik was standing in the doorway, watching the riders with his eyes narrowed.

          “That’s them,” Ross said.  He was starting to feel strange as well-a slightly painful tingling that started in his stomach and ran up and down his body.

          “Yep,” Rorik said.  “All except for the woman there.  I don’t know where she fits in.”

          Ross studied her as well.  Unlike the men who carried two swords or massive bows, she had a double ended blade slung sideways on her saddle for easy reach.  She had shaggy black hair jaggedly cut to her shoulder blades and hard brown eyes that had seen too much violence for a woman who was at least three years Ross’ junior.  Her right eye was highlighted with a curly black tattoo that started just above her eyebrow and ended in the middle of her cheek.  Her stallion stood a full head taller than the leader’s bay and was covered in bunched muscle rather than the lean lines of his companion horses.  She seemed to sense his scrutiny, for she suddenly turned on him, her stallion coming to a full stop, and yanked him into a forced scrutiny that was only broken when the leader of the Riders stopped as well. 

          It was from this man that Ross felt the strange painful tingling.  He didn’t look like anyone so strange-he was an inch or so taller than Ross and several years older with carefully trimmed black hair a little roughened by travel and laughing blue eyes.  However, even Ross could feel what Bello had felt-the taint of something dark around him; not precisely evil, but shadowed.

          “You’re the first ones I’ve seen here good sir and lad,” he said, leaning a bit in his saddle to shake Rorik’s hand and nod cheerfully at Ross.  “Where are the others?”

          “They’re… uh, a little nervous about strangers,” Ross said diplomatically.

          The man laughed.  “Well that’s nothing to be surprised about,” he said, straightening again.  He nodded again to the pair and followed his riders towards the inn, leaving the strange woman behind.  She continued studying Ross as though he was something interesting and vaguely strange and he stared back.

          “You are not scared?” she asked and he jumped a little.  Her voice was harsh and rasping and looking closer, he could see why.  There was a long scar across her neck, from one side to the other as though someone had tried to cut her throat at one point.

          “No,” he managed to say.  “Should I be?”

          She gave him another long look.  “No,” she finally rasped.  “You are wiser than these… eishas.  Rabbits.”

          Ross gave her a wry look.  “They seem to think they have every reason to be worried.”

          She smiled slightly and patted her stallion.  “We stay at place to eat and sleep for a time.  Maybe see you.”

          “Maybe,” Ross said, taken a little aback.

          “I am Xhawna,” she said.  “This is Raven.”  She patted the stallion’s neck and he arched his neck proudly.

          “I’m Ross.”

          “We meet soon, yes Ross?” she said.

          “Yeah,” he said, still too startled by her rough gregariousness to even think of saying otherwise.  She only nodded and her stallion followed the others towards the large inn that graced the end of the street.    

          Once they had vanished into the inn, Ross let himself relax and looked over at Rorik who was shaking his head slightly.  He lifted an eyebrow at the older man.

          “She’s definitely foreign,” Rorik said.  “I can’t place where she’s from though.  I wonder why she’s here?”

          Ross shrugged, still a little bemused by both her and the man who had a cloak of shadow over him, despite the sunny spring day and his cheery blue eyes.

~

          “You felt the unseelie influence,” Bello said when Ross brought it up with her back at his cottage.  “Anyone can; it’s what makes humans so uneasy around them.  Some say that one of grandsires married a half unseelie and that’s what you’re feeling.”

          Ross frowned a little.  “But I don’t think they’re going to come rampaging through here,” he slowly decided.  “I don’t even think they’re staying in Xamia for long.  They’re staying at the inn, nowhere permanent.”

          “Maybe they won’t, but where they go, other things follow,” Bello said sagely.  “Things that are drawn to the darkness.”

          Ross felt himself grow tense.  “But they’ll deal with anything they drag here, won’t they?” he asked.  “They wouldn’t just leave us to fend for ourselves.”

          “They’ve always dealt with things like that before, so I’ve heard,” Bello grudgingly admitted.  “Their leader is supposed to be a good man.”

          “Right,” Ross said.  “He certainly didn’t seem evil or anything.”

          “Still unseelie,” she said and jumped out of his windowsill and back to her mushrooms.

          That night, Ross awoke feeling both unsettled from prickly nightmares and a sudden drop in the temperature.  He got up shivering and looked outside.  To his considerable shock, the ground was thick with frost and ice, the mushroom ring had shriveled and died, and the trees were laden with thick icicles.

          By the gods…  Ross took up his beautiful longbow and a quiver of arrows and bolted outside where his breath hung white and heavy in the air.  He could hear Leopold whinnying in surprise and Ruty scrabbling in his blanket for warmth.  However, most of his attention was caught up in the dead mushroom ring.  Of the little fey, there was no sign.

          That more than anything infuriated him and so he swept his cloak around his shoulders, threw himself aboard a startled Leopold, and spurred him towards Xamia where the Morris Riders, the unseelie leader, and whatever they had brought with them had to be.  In his fury, in didn’t take him long to push through the ice to the town which was equally frozen over and growing worse with every passing moment.  All of the houses were dark, including the inn which Ross strode to and hammered on the door of until the bewildered innkeeper answered.

          “Where is he?” Ross snarled.  “The Morris leader, where is he?”

          Zeke, the innkeeper, gave him a frightened look and shook his head.  “When this… ice storm hit, he left with his riders, saying he had to find the source of it.  I haven’t seen him since.”

          Ross snarled and shoved the door closed in the startled man’s face.  If Bello and her clan are dead because of this, I’m going to rip out that Morris’ heart, an irrational part of him thought.  The rest of him was far more concerned about what could have caused the weird ice and he swept around Xamia, searching.

          At the edge of the town, he finally saw someone.  There was a tall woman surveying the damage, a cruel smile touching the edges of her blue lips.  She had long white hair and cat like blue eyes that were so cold they almost sucked the breath from Ross’ chest.  She was stately in white furs that draped around her shoulders and down her back, though the rest of her clothing looked like smooth leather that left her arms and shoulders bare.  She didn’t seem to notice the cold though.  She had long pointed ears and patterns of frost graced her cheeks and shoulders.  As soon as he got close enough to smell a mixture of clean snow and frozen air around her, her eyes flicked to him.  Leopold squealed in fear.

          “Mortal,” she murmured, her voice sliding like iced wine around him.  “Is this your home mortal?”

“What have you done?” Ross demanded, nocking an arrow to his bow.

Her smile grew and she fondled the white furs around her shoulders.  “I am taking back that which is mine,” she said.  “Bringing home the son of Aerin Fejld.”

The leader of the Riders, Ross realized.  “He’s not here,” he said.  “Stop doing whatever you’re doing.”

The woman tilted her head a little.  “Such a shame that he has run,” she said.  “No matter.  This land, and the ones around it, will suffice to hold my attention until he returns.”

“You can’t do that,” Ross said, raising his bow.  “I won’t let you.”

She laughed a little.  “Return to your ice locked woodlands or flee human.  You cannot harm me.”

“I can try,” Ross gritted and let an arrow fly.  To his shock, she merely drifted aside and the arrow flew by harmlessly.  She arched an eyebrow and shook her head. 

“My turn now I suppose.  A shame.”  She flicked a hand and Ross was suddenly surrounded by a vortex of stabbing ice pieces that sliced into him.  He screamed in agony and then in numbing pain.  Leopold reared and shrieked as well, throwing Ross off in his agony.  For a long moment, both he and Leopold were sure they were about to die, but then he was abruptly yanked from the vortex by a strong pair of hands.  The woman’s head snapped up a bit and her cat eyes narrowed.  Ross though could only dazedly see the black hide of a massive horse and a woman aboard.

“We leave now Ross White,” a voice rasped near his ear.  “These lands are not ours now.”

He tried to protest, but she hauled him over the front of her saddle and urged both her stallion and an exhausted and wounded Leopold into a gallop. The woman merely laughed behind them, the echoes mocking Ross until he fainted.