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Erik’s heart pounded as he ran, louder than the hoofbeats of his pursuers, louder than his own thoughts, ducking through hedges and around trees.
Sanctuary , his instincts screamed. Sanctuary.
Well, sanctuary would be all well and good, but there were no churches in the Manglegrove; there were no people in the Manglegrove. There would be no safety for him, not unless he could throw off his pursuers somehow.
The dense and twisting foliage seemed to suddenly open before him, and Erik was too much a pragmatist to let such a golden opportunity go to waste. Diving through the narrow passage in the greenery, he pulled vines to cover the entrance again. The leaves fell into place as if designed to, and Erik watched with a smug sort of relief as the constable and his lackeys thundered past.
"Finally," he muttered, turning to move deeper into the tangled brush. The twisted branches almost seemed to part before him, which was all to the better; the thorns in the Manglegrove could get to be several inches long, and Erik liked his face scratch-free.
Just when he was beginning to wonder if the passage would ever end, he saw the glow of sunlight just ahead. Hopefully, he'd be able to get his bearings, find his way back to town to meet up with Derk, and–
Erik found himself in a provincial little town.
He stopped, just outside of the tunnel, to take in the sight; quaint little cottages along winding dirt pathways, a stream running through the length of the town, horses and cows grazing loose on the village green, and happy, round-faced people wandering about their daily business. There was something odd about it, though, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.
"Ooh, hello there!" A young women's voice sounded near and above him, and Erik jumped, whirling to face–
A young woman with long blonde hair under a bright red headscarf, leaning on a fence blocking off the ledge where she stood and waving down at him.
"I havenae seen you around here before," she said, an odd accent shaping her vowels and curving her consonants, one that he almost recognized. "Ye must be pretty lost to end up in Cobblestone!"
Erik blinked, and then put on his most winning smile.
"Uh, hi. Cobblestone, you say?" He couldn't say he'd heard of it. "I gotta admit, I didn't know there was a village out here in the Manglegrove."
The young woman tilted her head. "Is that where ye came from?" she asked.
"I came through there, yeah," he said, turning to gesture to the hole he came through only to find a solid stone cliff where the passage should have been. "Uh–"
Laughter, soft and bell-like, came from above him. Erik looked up again and found the young woman grinning behind her hand.
"Ye must be so confused," she giggled. "I suppose I ought to bring you tae El; he can explain things well enough." With that, she seemed to vanish from the ledge, only reappearing when she stepped out from around the corner of a nearby building.
"Come on, then!" she called, waving to him brightly.
Erik jogged over, for lack of a better plan. "So, who or what is 'El'?" he asked.
"El's me best friend," she replied cheerfully, "ever since we were wee babes. He keeps us safe!" She paused, and then gently rapped her knuckles against her own head. "Oops! Trust me to forget me manners entirely; I’m Gemma!"
As friendly as she seemed, Erik was still on the run. "Call me Tealeaf," he said. Ruby's little pet name for him would serve for now.
Gemma gave him a look of surprise, but nodded easily enough. "Should’ve expected that," she said, apropos of nothing at all. "Anyway, there's El's workshop up there."
She pointed to the top of a hill, where sat a little house, a shed, and a three-walled forge with smoke billowing from the chimney. The sound of a hammer on hot metal could be heard, getting louder as they approached.
"Are you sure we're not interrupting?" Erik asked, suddenly and unaccountably nervous. "I, uh, wouldn't want to be rude or anything."
"Oh, he won't stop working just because we're here!" Gemma said breezily, practically skipping up to the open wall and knocking on one of the support posts. "Oh, El!"
The hammer strikes didn't pause. "What is it, Gemma?" a voice called from inside, melodic and smooth as a song.
"We've got a visitor! One of your lost souls, I think?"
The hammer paused in its rhythm.
"...I'll be right out!"
Gemma blinked, but recovered her smile in short order. "Well, I guess he will stop working," she said.
"Is that… bad?" Erik asked.
Gemma shrugged, but had no time to reply before the source of the voice stepped out of the forge.
Later, Erik would have the wherewithal to be embarrassed about how fast every thought left his head when El walked into his sight. He was tall, with broad shoulders and muscular forearms, silky brown hair tied back into a tail at the base of his skull. A fine sheen of sweat lent a gleam to the fine features of his face, wiped away with a soot-streaked cloth in his large hands, which he stuffed partly into a pocket on his leather apron with an uncanny sort of grace. Most striking of all, though, were his eyes, bluer than the skies and almost luminous even in the afternoon sunlight.
"Hello," he said with his beautiful voice, somehow musical. "I'm El; welcome to Cobblestone."
"...hi," Erik said after an embarrassingly long second.
"Tealeaf here’s just arrived," Gemma chirped, "and we thought ye'd like tae know."
Surprise, there and gone. "I hope it wasn't too stressful for ye," El said, a look of concern creasing his brow. "I tried to make sure it would be a smooth transition."
"Uh," Erik managed intelligently.
"Ye needed somewhere safe, did ye not?" El asked.
Erik could only nod.
"I think he was being chased," Gemma offered helpfully.
Erik gestured to her. "Y-yeah, that."
El frowned, looking back toward the place Erik had entered through. "Well, whoever they are, they won't find ye here," he said comfortingly.
"...okay?" Erik's confusion was only growing.
El must've picked up on it, because he gave a sheepish little smile. "Gemma, I'm going tae explain things to Tealeaf over some tea. Could ye make sure no one interrupts if it's not an emergency?"
Gemma smiled and nodded. "I'll tell Cole to let people know, and Sandy can stand guard." With that, she bounced off, presumably to find 'Cole' and ‘Sandy’.
...which left Erik alone with El. Cool.
El gestured toward the cottage. "Shall we?" he asked, and Erik found himself nodding without meaning to.
“Sure,” Erik said, “lead on.”
Loading . . .
El’s cottage looked smaller than it was from the outside. Erik would’ve guessed two, maybe three rooms, maximum, but when he walked in, Erik was greeted with the sight of a large sitting room which had three clear exits. Unless all three were closets – which they weren’t, since Erik caught a glimpse of a well-lit kitchen through one as El ducked through to fetch the tea set – El’s house didn’t fit in its own floor plan. Just one more thing about Cobblestone that didn’t make any sense.
“So,” El began, sitting at the table with his tea, “I’m sure ye have questions.”
“Yeah.” Erik sprawled gracelessly in his seat. “Let’s start at the beginning; what is this place?”
“It’s a sanctuary,” El said. “Cobblestone is a place which reaches out to those who need help.”
Erik narrowed his eyes. “So, like... magic?”
El beamed. “Exactly! This place was created eighteen years ago to keep an infant prince safe until he was old enough to take back his kingdom, and, well... we just kept picking up more people.”
“Who created it?” Erik asked.
El shifted in his seat. “Well... that would be my mother, Queen Eleanor. She was part fae, on her mother’s side, and when the kingdom of Dundrasil fell, she had just enough magic in her tae save me and some of the castle servants.” He waved his hand vaguely. “All of the people in the village are either former Drasilians, their children, or random people who stumbled in over the years needing help.”
Erik paused. “You’re... wait, you’re the prince? And... and part fae.” How many times could Erik’s whole worldview get flipped on its head in one afternoon?
“Aye!” El took a sip of his tea. “How d’ye like the biscuits?”
Belatedly, Erik shoved one in his mouth, only to cough. The flavor was fine, but the texture was–
“Och, now, ye cannae be having Drasilian shortbread without tea,” El chided, still smiling. “They’re designed tae be eaten with something tae wet your whistle.”
Erik took a hasty gulp of the tea, and, sure enough, the sandy consistency turned into something he could actually swallow.
“R-right,” Erik said, smothering another cough. “Tastes, tastes great.”
El nodded. “Any other questions?”
There were a lot, but only one really dug at Erik for the moment. “When we came up here, Gemma said I was ‘one of your lost souls’? What’s that mean?”
All at once, El sobered. “...When I was born, there was a prophecy,” he said. “That Dundrasil would fall, and that I would have tae go on a great journey to restore it to its former glory.” He shuffled his feet. “And, well, it was also prophesied that I’d have companions tae share in my burdens and my joys.” He gestured to Erik. “I suppose Gemma thinks that you may be one of them.”
Erik frowned. He’d never been one for fortune telling. “And what makes her think that?” he asked.
“Our eighteenth birthday is coming up,” El said, “and that’s when I’m supposed tae leave, make my way through the world gathering the ones who would stand with me against the darkness.” He paused. “But the real thing would be... probably how ye introduced yourself.”
For a moment, Erik was only more confused. “How I–”
Oh.
El gave a lopsided smile. “My first companion is to be ‘a tealeaf of unmatched devotion’, or so the prophecy goes.”
“So, I–” Erik fell forward onto the table with a groan. “If I’d just introduced myself normally–”
“–then I’m sure the prophecy would have reflected that instead,” El said soothingly. Somehow, despite himself, Erik found himself soothed. “I was hoping tae finish all the equipment before you arrived, but it is what it is.”
Erik’s interest was quite thoroughly piqued, and he looked up from the table. “Equipment?”
El nodded. “I’m tae forge special weapons for each of my prophesied companions, with my own hands and magic.” He brightened. “Would ye like tae see yours?”
“Please,” Erik said, surprising himself with his genuine interest.
El stood, moving to the far door, and ducked into a room which looked like an armory. In moments, he’d returned, holding in his hands the most beautiful pair of daggers Erik had ever seen, all blue and gold and black with a strange shimmering quality to the metal.
“I crafted these with liquid gold, crystallized time, dragon’s tears, a branch of Autumn, and a robin’s first song,” El said, offering the daggers to Erik as if everything he’d just said wasn’t completely impossible.
Erik took the daggers in his hands, though, and felt the weight of them, and something simply felt... right.
“They... they’re beautiful,” he said, feeling clumsy and ill-spoken.
El’s expression was gentle, patient. “They’re yours,” he said. “I made them for you, Tealeaf .”
“My name's Erik,” he blurted, the only thing he could even think to say.
El looked both surprised and pleased, and Erik thought there weren’t many things he wouldn’t do to see that look on his face again.
“I thought ye would be cautious with me a bit longer,” El said. “I do carry the blood of faeries; we are known tae steal names given to us.”
It’s yours , Erik almost told him.
“Do you want it?” he asked instead.
Something strange passed through El’s eyes for a moment, a twisting of the light in them, that was as frightening as it was beautiful. It passed quickly, and that unbearable gentleness returned.
“Better not,” he said, not unkindly. “If I took your name, then what would I call ye?”
“Yours,” Erik said unthinkingly.
El inhaled sharply, and his hands were on Erik’s hands, and everything was suddenly warm and electrifying, like the air before a storm, and Erik met the sky in El’s eyes, and the light there was all-encompassing, and Erik’s lips parted, and El was so very close , and–
El closed his eyes, and it stopped.
“I’ll have tae be very careful with ye,” El said, a tremor in his voice.
Erik nodded, a little dazed.
“I think that’s enough talking for now.” El led him to a couch and had him sit down. “Why don’t ye take a wee rest, love? I must get back tae forging, but tonight, I’ll tell ye all ye may care tae know.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Erik managed, his tongue like molasses.
El smiled. “Rest,” he said, pushing Erik until he was horizontal on the couch.
And Erik must’ve been more tired than he thought, because as soon as his head hit the cushion, he was asleep.
—Fin