Faerling

Book 1, Crystal Mirrors

Part I

Genna watched through the clouded glass of the window, staring unblinkingly at the man outside. She knew he thought her shack uninhabited, as he peered through the blinding rain at her front door, and she wondered what he'd do when he found her inside. Not that it was truly her home, but she had been there for nearly four months now, and found herself with little desire to move on. She moved away from the window, suddenly realizing that perhaps this man was the original owner of the hovel, and at the same time, hoping he wasn't.

The door flew open and rain blew in before the stranger hurriedly shut and bolted the door behind him. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew an object the size of a pebble, and at a whispered word, the pebble blazed into light, easily lighting the single room of the shack. Instinctively Genna shrank back against the wall, wishing for a place to hide.

She knew when he saw her by the sharp indrawn breath and the scrape of his sword leaving its scabbard. "I cannot harm you," she hastily assured him in a shaky voice.

He didn't replace his sword as he moved closer to her, his eyes widening as he noticed her gently pointed ears, wide eyes, slender shape, and green-tinted hair. As he stared at her, so she stared at him, looking up to see him dark-haired and dark-skinned, broad-shouldered, towering over her. Genna began to know what he was thinking.

"So I'm of the Faerie. So what," Genna said calmly. "'Tis no shame."

The stranger chuckled in a rumbling voice. "No, no shame, but rather a surprise. It's not exactly usual to run into a half-Faerie when I'm just looking for a place to stay dry." He bowed low, a mocking smile on his face. "My many apologies for invading your home like this."

Genna recalled the stories she had heard about Faerie retribution on unwanted visitors and wished, not for the first time, that along with the looks, she had also inherited the powers of the Folk. "You needn't

worry about anything. 'Tis no more my own home than 'tis yours." She raised her chin defiantly, daring him to guess that she had nothing to defend herself with.

He backed up and sank into a chair by the dilapidated table in the center of the room. "And what are you called, Faerling?"

"Genna," she said softly, fully aware of the insult implied by the name given to those of partial Faerie blood. "And who are you, mighty warrior?"

He laughed again. "To me, that sounds like a good enough name. However, you may call me Alec Ravenwood."

Genna nodded silently and turned back to looking out the window at the rain. A few minutes later, Alec started speaking again.

"Genna?" She spun at the sound of her name. Alec was leaning back in the chair, feet propped on the table, picking at the arm of the chair with his dagger. "I was thinking," he continued, "that I might just be looking for a companion..."

"Companion?" Genna squeaked, her face paling.

"Not like that, Faerling," he reassured her. "I have need of the Faerie magic in my travels."

"I have no magic," Genna stated, cutting him off, suddenly angry with herself for admitting this fact.

Alec raised an eyebrow. "Well, then, perhaps the other interpretation of my offer..." His voice trailed off as he saw the look on her face. "I didn't mean it, Faerling," he said softly. "It was a joke. I take it you haven't spent much time with people if you don't recognize a joke when you hear one."

"No, I haven't," Genna said matter-of-factly. "And I think 'twas rather a rude joke, too. People may take Faeries and Faerlings as having bits of fluff for their brains, but 'tis not my way to be like that..."

Alec cut her off. "Please, don't get so upset."

"And why not?" Genna asked.

"Why don't you have magic?" Alec asked, changing the subject. It was beginning to occur to him what a ridiculous situation he was in, sitting in an old shack in the middle of a huge rainstorm chatting with a magicless member of the Folk.

Genna turned back to staring out the window. "When came time for me to be born, my mother was banished from the Folk for they could see that I would not be of them, except in appearance. She died without their magic to sustain her, leaving me alone in the woods. 'Twas pure chance that brought two adventures my way, to find a babe starving in the wood, and 'twas they who brought me to the church of Mirya to be raised." Genna laughed bitterly. "'Tis my guess they thought the Goddess of Magic would look favorably upon one of her children living in her house of worship. "'Twas a mistake however, and the goddess let her priests and priestesses know this, as one tragedy after another fell upon the town while I was there in the church. Finally, it burned down and I had to leave. I heard later that the town, 'twas fine again since I had gone, and the priests blamed me for all the trouble that had befallen. So 'tis my fate to be forever without magic."

Alec was surprised at all she'd said. "How have you lived?" he asked. "How *do* you live now?"

Genna laughed. "I do believe it is quite possible to survive in this world without magic," she said, laughter still bubbling in her voice. "Or do you, Sir Mercenary, find it so difficult that you must rely on spells to live from day to day?"

Realizing the truth of this, Alec had to smile. "It's just, I thought the Faerie could only survive by magic."

"'Tis true, but I am only a Faerling. Half my blood runs humankind."

He nodded. "My offer still stands. I could use the company, and if you've survived this long alone, I assume you might be help to me."

"How do you know you can trust me?"

"I don't." Alec stared at her, a frank expression on his face. "But what better way to find out than by spending a night in a shack with no one but you for company?"

Genna easily saw the truth of that and, without answering the original request, curled up in the chair and slowly faded into sleep.

Faerling is copyrighted by Deb Atwood.

Copies may be kept for personal use but may not be redistributed without the expression permission of the author.

Tryslora Eloran (deb_atwood@fac.com)