Thura.
When I get back, it seems Tarek and I are long overdue for a conversation about abilities. Being that it solves nothing at the moment, I tidy up my anger and set it aside to be revisited later. Instead, I focus on Eacon, who’s still standing at the dead-end side of the alleyway with her hands raised. She’s calm and her gaze is assessing. I push through the loads of questions currently bombarding me about thura and how it all works, and concentrate on the bigger issue at hand…where I am and why.
“If you’re not here to hurt me,” I concede, and a wave of relief moves through Eacon’s gaze and countenance, “what are we doing here then?” I ask, just as a boisterous group of sailors strides past the mouth of the alley.
I turn slightly so I can keep them in sight as well as Eacon. My sword is clutched in my hand, but my body blocks it from view of the sailors. They don’t even glance our way as they pass, teasing one another and hollering about their plans for the evening now that the cargo has been unloaded and the ship they work on is docked for the night.
The alleyway begins to quiet again, just in time for me to hear Eacon say, “We’re here to right some wrongs.”
I turn fully back to her and lift one eyebrow with annoyance.
“Is it a fae trait to answer every direct question with cryptic bullshit?”
Eacon laughs lightly, her gaze lighting up with fondness. “You and the Scorpions are a lot alike, no patience for sarkar shit or clandestine adventure.”
I scoff.
“Please, those three seem to be full of nothing but sarkar shit and clandestine everything.”
Eacon laughs harder.
“Maybe so, but it’s not hard to see what it was about you that transfixed the Scorpions so completely. You four fit perfectly,” she warmly proclaims, but I’m done with theyou were meant to beshit that I really don’t need shoved down my throat right now.
I’ve heard it all before from lips more appealing than Eacon’s, so she can cut the nonsense. I sigh, and Eacon smiles wider. She runs her gaze over my face and nods as though she can perfectly read how I’m feeling about all of this.
“A long time ago, I met a fae named Yaren. She found me when I was lost and helped me discover not only my way, but myself. She was one of the most beautiful souls I’ve ever met. I thought we’d have years upon years together, learning and loving and making this world a better place than we’d found it. Fate had other plans though. Some vile bastard happened upon Yaren and decided all of that loveliness needed to be shattered.”
Eacon grows quiet, the look in her eyes suddenly tortured and heavy. Her hands and arms curve in front of her as though she’s holding something that isn’t there, and then her eyes squeeze closed as though the memory she just quickly recounted to me is as fresh today as it was the moment she found her Yaren…and I have no doubt that Eacon was the one to find her. It’s evident in her every breath that she discovered her love, dead or dying. It’s in the way her hands clutch at a phantom body, at the horror and pain that radiates out of her like it’s seared into her very being forever.
It all happens in less time than it takes to inhale. The way the strong and warm Eacon seems to fold in on herself with a sadness so thick and pervasive that it makes my chest grow tight. I’ve felt and witnessed my share of pain, but what I’m witnessing right now feels so much more visceral. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to live with all of that inside of you every day. It’s a kind of loss I’ve never known and hope I never do.
“I looked for him, the man who stole her from me,” she tells me softly, her eyes still closed and her hands still clutching at a love that’s no longer there before her arms fall slowly to her sides. “There were times I thought it would be impossible to track him down. I had almost nothing to go on. A scrap of cloth Yaren ripped from him. A few strands of hair. The impression his boots and hands left in bruises on her body. But I never gave up.”
Eacon opens her eyes, the azure blue of her gaze alight with determination and fury as it settles on mine with unfaltering purpose.
“I wandered the four courts and beyond, always searching. It’s how I found the Scorpions before they were Scorpions. Once, I would have left the lot of them to suffer and not given it a second thought, but I saw things differently after Yaren. She chose good where possible. She fought for justice and decency whenIdidn’t even know what they meant. I learned though.
“In those moments when I could have either walked away or intervened, it began to feel as though there wasn’t really a choice. I didn’t seek any of the orphans or other downtrodden out, but when they fell into my path, it was as though I could see perfectly what Yaren would have done, and in those quiet moments, she was with me. I still feel her every time I take the path I know she would have,” Eacon confides as she presses her palm to her chest.
I’m touched by the pure reverence radiating from Eacon as she speaks, and my throat constricts with emotion. Goose bumps rise on my arms, and a shiver scurries up my spine as though the world is telling me thatthisis important. That Eacon isn’t just speaking for herself, but for the divine, for the fates themselves even.
“I choose good when I can find it,” Eacon declares, moving closer to me. “At first, it was simply so I could feel Yaren again, but now it’s a part of who I am.”
At some point while listening to Eacon’s story, I lowered my sword. I debate for a moment whether to ready myself once more or to put the weapon away and follow wherever it is Eacon wants to lead me. Or maybe it’s something else that’s guiding my path right now. I’ve never believed in the spirits or the things that might lie beyond. It always seemed pointless to dwell on something that couldn’t be proven one way or the other. It’s not as though some mystery force has ever done much for me, but the conviction in Eacon’s eyes as she talks about feeling Yaren’s presence past the veil of death, about living for someone she loved even though they’re gone, it resonates with me.
“How do you do that?” I ask as I slip my sword back into the sheath belted around my hips. “How do you see the good beyond everything else?”
Instead of answering, Eacon walks past me, and I turn to follow her. She steps from the alley out onto a stone path that runs past the entrances of several shops and taverns. In the distance, fae stroll casually down the wide walkway, some veering off into one establishment or another. Not many are wandering as far down as Eacon and I find ourselves. I look around and guess that’s probably because the taverns on this end are more worn and dilapidated. I don’t have much experience with things like this, but I’d wager a fae could find a good amount of trouble behind the worn doors of the establishments all around me versus what they’d find within the others down the way.
I’m both wary and fascinated by everything I see. It’s overwhelming. Every fae feels like a threat even though most of them are simply minding their own business and not anywhere close to me and Eacon. I find myself tensing and ready for an attack at any moment, regardless of the easy strides and warm smiles painted across the faces of the strangers on the street. Eacon’s gait is smooth and her steps sure. She moves toward the busier end of the pathway, crossing over until we’re closer to the commotion and activity of the docks.
Huge ships are moored to long piers, and fae move about like chirp ants busy loading and unloading things, while more vessels float off in the distance awaiting their turn. Orders are bellowed out from every direction as we get closer to the water. I’m astounded by the organized chaos of everything that’s happening all around me. It’s as mesmerizing as it is baffling. Questions start to pile up in my mind as my senses quickly become overloaded by the smells, sounds, and sights. I don’t know if I want to shut it all out or throw myself in the mix until I’ve mastered it all.
Inhaling deeply, I attempt to ground myself against the onslaught. The scent of excrement isn’t so cloying, but now it’s been replaced by pungent sweat, salt water, and too many bodies who reek of both as well as a mixture of other things my nose and mind can’t identify.
“Over here,” Eacon directs me, and somehow I hear her command despite all the shouting and calling back and forth that’s ringing in the air.
I follow the mysterious fae away from the clamor and craziness, the deep red of her leathers making it easy to keep my eyes glued to her. Fae hustle to and from everywhere, and I’m grateful that no one ventures too close. It’s like they can sense the overwhelming desire I’m struggling with to stab anyone who gets within reach. I didn’t realize it would be this difficult to be around so many beings at once, but everything in me is screaming that it’s not safe, and I’m battling to get control of the panic that’s starting to crawl up my throat.
