Insides convulsing, Mira bent over the edge of the tub. Every hair and feather trembled against the dozenth dry heave. She felt the sense that she should be ashamed, but it was only that. She couldn’t find true fault in herself, none that anyone could disagree with anyway.
She’d faced humans and goblins, giants and ravenous beasts. But a demon? Cramps seized her stomach again at the thought.
By the time she’d finished, Mira felt a lot less like a victorious knight, and a lot more like a drowned pigeon. Her feathers were soaked through. It would be hours before she could even think about getting airborne again.
A part of her considered asking Echo for help with a proper preening, but the moment the duchess’s name crossed her mind, she winced. The sight of her lying on the ground, wings and limbs at odd angles, sent a wave of guilt through her.
Her mission as a knight, to protect her charge, failed.
The voices of the others reached her as she approached the door to the tavern’s main room. The calm, idle tone of their chatter was like a knife to the heart.
Taking a breath, she forced a peaceful expression upon her face. They couldn’t see her self-recrimination or reproach.
“About time,” Echo snarked as she stepped through the door. “I was about to come make sure you’d not gone and grown gills on us.”
They’d pushed two tables together in the middle of the room. Brother Luke had joined them. Holy words flowed from the priest’s lips as he tended to the last of Echo’s injuries. Vivveen’s bright smile pounded the dagger deeper into the knight’s heart as she reached them.
“Sorry, my lady,” Mira apologized. “It took forever to get all that blech out. I don’t think there’s a drop of oil left in my feathers.”
Rising to meet her, Echo reached out and ran her fingers through them. “So it would seem.” Pulling out a chair, she motioned for Mira to sit. “I’ve got a lovely saffron-rose oil. Once they’ve dried, I’ll take care of them for you.”
Guilt twisted Mira’s smile. “That’s okay, my lady. I’m fine with mine.”
“Nonsense,” Echo said dismissively. “That human made swill isn’t fit for a sparrow let alone my knight.”
“Dwarf,” Mira corrected her. “It’s dwarf made.”
“Bloody hell, woman!” Echo’s face twisted in unabashed disgust. “It’s a wonder you can fly at all!”
Norm slid the knight a pint of the strongest stout the tavern had to offer as she took her seat. She’d barely a chance to adjust herself before Vivveen slid into her lap. Mira had to consciously stop herself from wrapping a wing around the child and soaking her, too.
“Not a whole lot of options in Sitri,” Mira completed her thought. She glanced to the bar. “Armand not back yet?”
Healer shook his head. “Hard to say when they’ll turn ‘round. Ain’t no way to let ‘em know it’s over, after all.”
Echo sighed. “I’d have sent Orbish, but…”
Mira tensed. The little familiar had been so brave. If not for him, she’d have flown straight into Romiér’s waiting spell.
“I’m sorry, my lady.” Mira patted Echo’s arm.
“Don’t say that.” A sharp breath huffed from her nose. “He’s being melodramatic enough without someone encouraging him. At this rate, it’ll be a miracle if I can get him to rematerialize inside of a fortnight.” Echo couldn’t resist the wry smile that found her lip at Mira’s obvious confusion. “Familiars are spirits, love. That physical form was destroyed. Not him. It’s no small feat to actually kill one.”
“Pardon me, Lady Echo,” Brother Luke interjected before turning to Mira. “How are your injuries, dame knight?”
“Pretty sore, honestly,” said Mira. “But I think Healer got the worst of them.”
“Wish I could’ve done more,” Healer grumbled. “Weren’t much I could do in the thick of it, though.”
“What about you, Zhel?” Mira said to the nu-duwar. “Still feeling… curse-y?”
The night elf took the barest sip of water. “I feel as if I’ve eaten my fill for the next decade.”
Echo laid a soft hand on Mira’s. “And of the rest of you, my knight?”
Mira turned to find Echo’s knowing eyes upon her.
“It’s not often the gods are so direct with mortals outside their clergy, Dame Mira,” said Brother Luke.
“’Specially Myria,” Healer added.
“Are you okay?” said Healer.
Sighing inwardly, Mira nodded. “Yeah,” she lied. “I’m fine. Head’s a bit swimmy, stomach’s been better, but I’m good.”
But she was far from fine. The pint sitting before her was as appetizing as the foul waters of the marsh itself. Even the notion of food twisted her stomach.
“Mira,” Echo said knowingly.
“I’ll be okay, my lady, pastors, really it just caught me off guard, y’know? First, some lady’s calling out my personal name— and it’s been years since I’ve heard that —then the next thing I know Echo’s…” Mira shook her head. “I just need some time for my brain to stop being scrambled eggs, okay?”
Doubt dimpled Echo’s cheeks as she squeezed her hand. “As you wish,” she all but whispered.
Vivveen craned her neck to look up at the woman. “Personal name?”
“We zephyrni all bear three names,” Echo explained. “Our public name, our family name, and our personal name.”
The little girl’s brow furrowed.
“It works like this,” Mira interjected. “Our public name is the one we give people, like how my public name is Mira, and our family names are like our last names that tell people what family we come from, like how Echo is a Zeerie. We don’t mind telling people our public or family names, but our personal name—” Mira shook her head. “Only our family and closest friends know our personal name.”
The child cocked her head. “What’s your private name?”
“Ah tut-tut!” Echo interrupted. “It’s very rude to ask a zephyra her private name.”
Vivveen’s head fell in shame.
Mira hugged her. “It’s okay, downling. You didn’t know.”
“At least you’ve only three names,” Rosalie chimed in. “We Yesha keep so many that we end up forgetting half of them. I truly can’t remember what I was born as at this point. I think it started with a Q… or was it a Z? One of those letters that isn’t used much; I think… or was it Evelyn? Brianna?”
“Still say it’s strange you wee ones don’t pick your own names.” Healer laughed softly. “When we go’thial come of age, we choose our name. Let the whole world know what we want to be thought of.”
“There, see?” Echo shot Vivveen a smile. “Every culture has its own naming practices. It’s perfectly alright not to know every one of them. No sense in being ashamed, is there?” Vivveen shook her head. “Good girl. Now,” she flared her wings as she stretched her arms up over her head, “we’ve still some time before they get back. Anyone fancy a cuppa?”
The green that spread across Mira’s cheeks echoed the look on Zhel’s face.
Rosalie chuckled at their discomfort. “You tall ones enjoy yourselves. I’ll fly out and let the villagers know it’s been dealt with.”
***
It would be a lie to say Mira knew the first thing about the music of Larris sur L’eau, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate it. Night was firm upon the marsh. The villagers had raided the last of their provisions to throw in impromptu celebration, a “fais-do-do” as Remy called it.
Wines and spirits flowed. The most amazing dishes were thrown together despite their diminished supplies.
Head swimming with brandy and crawfish, Mira stumbled from the crowd in desperate need of a break. Her feet ached from the constant calls to the dance floor. She hardly had a chance to breathe between songs. The dainty duchess seeing to that personally.
She staggered in search of a quiet place, finally finding one near the docks. She slumped against a stack of crates.
“Looks like you’re having a good time,” came Norm’s muttered voice.
Turning her blurry, doubled gaze upon him, she snickered. “Di’n’t think you’d be missin’ the party.” Grunting, he shrugged. “Wha’s wrong? We won.”
“Did we?” he grumbled.
Squinting hard to bring him into focus, Mira cocked her head. “Well, yeah. I mean, did you miss the big ass corpse next to the windmill?”
“No,” he said flatly. “And that’s the problem.”
“That’s a problem?”
He nodded. “A big one.”
“There you are.” Echo’s voice wafted down the pier. “I thought I’d lost my dance partner.” Looking from Mira to Norm, her brow knitted. “Something the matter?”
“Norm says us killing that Ebon Maw thing was a big problem.”
Eyes hardening, Echo’s attention snapped to him. “We agreed!” she hissed.
“Agreed?” Mira sputtered. “Agreed on what? How could killing a demon be bad!?”
A throat growl rose in Norm’s throat. “It’s not that we killed it that’s the problem, it’s that it left a body!”
Features twisting in confusion, Mira’s feathers fluffed. “Dead things tend to do that.”
“Mira,” Echo began. “Do you understand what a demon is?”
“A monster?” she replied simply.
Echo shook her head. “No, my knight. They’ve more in common with Orbish than us. They are spirits. Malevolent spirits, but spirits nonetheless.”
Understanding washed the color from Mira’s face. The familiar’s final moments replayed in her memory. Romiér’s vile spell tore the creature in half, but there was no blood, no viscera. Only a puff of smoke and he was gone.
Hand flying up in search of Charlotte’s enchanted broach, she turned her panic stricken eyes to them.
Guilt filled Echo’s face as she laid a hand on hers. “Norman and I’d agreed to give you and the others this night. The gods know this town needed a victory, some sense of hope, but—”
“It’s not dead,” Mira muttered.
“Yes and no,” Norm barely whispered. “That one is dead, but that’s the problem. What Romiér summoned wasn’t his master, or at least, what he got wasn’t.
“That was but a legion, Mira, a low ranking demon in service to a greater lord, and legions haven’t the ability to empower warlocks.”
Visible shudders shook the knight at the fresh memory of the battle. The lingering aches and pains of combat cut through the numbing brandy. That thing had swatted Echo like a fly, shrugged off sword and dagger as inconveniences, and tossed Cerberus aside as easily as a child threw a ball. If not for Myria’s direct intervention, none of them would’ve survived, and it was just a legion.
“Mira?” the tiniest, sleepiest voice called.
They turned from each other to find Vivveen and Caleb at the base of the dock, the little girl wobbling under the weight of sleep.
A warm smirk curled Norm’s lip. “Come on. It’s late. We’ll talk to the others in the morning. But for now,” he clapped Mira on the shoulder, “we need get these two to bed.”
“You can’t seriously expect me to be able to sleep after you drop all this on me, do you!?” Mira hissed in as low a voice she could.
[At this moment, none of us are in any condition to deal with it,] Echo said, switching to zephyrni as the children approached. [I need to research this Ebon Maw. Figure out what it is we’ve run afoul of, but for now, all you can do is rest.]
She was right. Mira couldn’t deny it. She took two wobbling steps, sending two pairs of tiny feet scampering to her.
“Mademoiselle chevalier!” Caleb gasped. “Are you okay?”
Leaning heavily on Norm for support, she nodded. “I’m alright.” The airiness of her voice nearly betrayed her nerves. “Just too many grownup drinks. That’s all.”
“I think Master Norm is correct, fledglings,” Echo added. “We all should be getting to bed.”
They made their way back to the tavern. Calls cried out for them to rejoin the festivities, but victory had fled the knight. The children provided the perfect excuse for them to leave the celebration.
In truth, though, Mira was spent long before Norm’s revelation. Slumber weighed upon her. By the time the girls were back in their room, she’d barely the energy to change into her nightclothes.
She slunk into bed, and soon found the tiny form she’d grown accustomed to taking her place next to her. Wings curling around Vivveen, Mira drew her tight. Cuddling close, a sigh of contentment filled the child.
“Goodnight, Vivvy,” Mira whispered.
“Bonne nuit,” Vivveen breathed from the edge of sleep, “Mama Mira.”
The whole day played and replayed within the woman’s mind. Romiér, the demon, Myria, she struggled not to shudder. But as the child’s little fingers twisted in her feathers, warmth filled her heart with the light of hope.
Hope? Raising her head only slightly at the thought, Mira’s eyes sought Echo.
The wizard’s head hung over her book, its pages glowing faintly. She was lost in study.
Perfect.
Laying a gentle kiss on her cheek, Mira whispered in her ear, “My name is Aurelia, my Iteeri.”
About the Author
A. S. Raithe is a fantasy author living near Pittsburgh with his wife and children. Always the creative type, it wasn’t until high school and being introduced to a local bestselling author that he found his passion for writing. He took time away from writing to attend college before being convinced by his wife to pick it up again shortly after their wedding. Outside of writing he enjoys exercise, baking, gardening, folklore, music, and hiking.
