The Gathering by Kimber Grey

Author:Kimber Grey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fae, faery, elven, wizard, wizardry, sorcerer, sorcery, magic, medieval
Publisher: Kimber Grey
Published: 2018-08-01T00:00:00+00:00

Forty-three

Northern Mountains

Vera knew she wasn't dead; she hurt too much to be dead. All around her, she heard voices over the winter, beyond the cocoon of snow smothering her, but she couldn't wake. She couldn't understand them, and their foreign words washed over her like a dream. Then the snow was gone. The winter was gone, and she felt hands carrying her. She tried to speak, but all she could force herself to say was, "girl . . . cliff . . . help." when darkness took her again, it was a relief, a reprieve from pain and weariness.

* * *

Vera struggled out of the heavy slumber that held her down. It took a significant effort, but she forced her eyes open. She didn't hurt, and she was bathed in brilliant light and warmth. The sun? She flinched away from the light, turning her head. Tiny blades of grass tickled her cheek, and the rustling sound of trees dancing in a gentle summer breeze met her hears. Much more carefully, she opened her eyes once more. She was in a small glade of closely trimmed grass, surrounded by thick forest. Here and there, a bird song rang out, and a butterfly's wings caught the sun. She was warm and draped in cream silks as light as the air.

"Mmmm." She let out a soft breath. "H-hello?"

"Faiden Trade Common," a male voice inquired. Vera turned her head to see a comely elven male sitting cross-legged to her left. He was also dressed in silks, but his attire was brilliant blue with delicate gold trim on every seam. His eyes were kind, but old for his features. It had always been hard for Vera to discern an elven's age. After their early twenties, the signs of aging were very subtle and varied greatly between elven races. The man could have been any age between thirty and a hundred. His chestnut hair had no gray, and his brown eyes were sharp and slightly upturned. His ear points and arched eyebrows were not overly distinctive. Vera couldn't discern any specific bloodline other than common elven.

"Uh . . . yes," she replied hoarsely.

He lifted a cup to her lips, and she realized she hadn't noticed it before. When she hesitated, he explained. "Water, clean water with essential minerals." His pronunciation was odd, and strangely familiar.

Vera sipped gingerly, then deeper from the clear, cool water. It tasted like the spring not far from her home in Wymarre. She lay back against the soft mound under her shoulders and head, facing the elven again. "Am I dreaming?"

He smiled and shook his head, setting the cup aside. It disappeared, and he spoke slowly with a somewhat labored mastery of the language. "You have slept through the night and half of the day. Our herb worker is confident that you will heal fully on your own. You are very strong."

Vera frowned, something nagging at the back of her mind. She was forgetting something. His accent was strange, but she was certain she could place it if she listened long enough.

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