Servant of the Draca

by Murray Eiland

The shadows of the thick forest quickly surrounded Moira, who was searching for a herb called “purple leaf.” Her decrepit body was making it more of a chore than it would have been on her better days, but she had finally found it. It was the rarest and most potent of plants; the only cure for Ava’s convulsions. She couldn’t let her sister’s child succumb to her ailments.

Back at her hut, the child lay in the arms of one of her maidservants.

Moira handed the leaf to the closest helper, who swiftly made a potion. From the bowl, beautiful butterflies emanated, wildly running through the stale air. Moira crushed a single butterfly in her wizened hand and instructed one of the attendants to hold the stricken girl. She placed the nearly dead insect over Ava’s lips, and watched as it turned to dust. After her ordeal, the girl drank a few sips of water.

Seconds later, Ava’s eyes were wide open. She laughed gutturally, recovering her spirits for a brief moment. The look of her mother, Iona, was rebirthed in her.

“Aunt,” she muttered.

“Hello, child. Thy hands... are cold.”

Ava was already of age, truth be told, but her distant relationship with Moira forced both of them to keep unusual formalities.

“What happened to me?” she asked.

“You were suffering, Ava. And now you are cured.”

“I am grateful to you, Aunt.”

If only Moira could have done the same for Iona. But, alas, she was no longer in the world of the living.

“Ava?”

“Yes, Aunt?”

“Thy dear mother...” Moira paused. She brewed hot water in a cup. The putrid smell of the Tea of Memories started to permeate the room. “Rather than tell you, I will show you. Drink,” she said, as she offered the cup to the young girl.

Ava was ready to see and hear the past she had asked about three nights ago. Moira stared blankly at the smooth clay wall of her hut as her niece drank the tea, ready to induce a deep sleep to show her tales of old and almost forgotten memories.

* * *

The sisters ran into the forest. Moira, who was more familiar with the ways of the forest than her sister, ran ahead.

“Moira! Wait! I don’t want to be alone,” said the younger sister, evidently frightened. Moira got a thrill every time she put her sister into eerie situations. She was, after all, the favoured child. It was Moira’s way of regaining a bit of respect; something her parents — the healers of the village — never gave her.

They stopped on the banks of a river, which was said to be dangerous. Their parents warned them of the water spirits that lived there.

In a moment of evident confusion, Iona felt mesmerized and frightened by the movement of the water. Moira, on the other hand, hid behind a gigantic tree, with the notion of scaring her when she approached.

She squatted behind the trunk, covered by the beautiful foliage. She closed her eyes in a moment, expectant, trying to be as silent as possible.

But many seconds passed till she realized she could hear the awkward steps of her sister no more.

Her eyes met the river. A dazzling, shimmering object floating on its surface caught her eyes.

From that moment she moved by compulsion, stretching her arm forward; her body was being drawn towards the enigmatic object. Neither her mind nor her body was hers. The perplexing material clouded her mind, concealing her sister’s cries. Iona, desperately shedding tears, called out to her sister with all the strength she could gather.

As soon as she touched the glowing orb, Moira let out a sharp cry. Iona closed her eyes, out of fear. At once her sister disappeared, leaving no trace. Were the fairies of the water somehow involved in her sister’s kidnapping?

She covered her face with her delicate hands, kneeling on the grass and hugging her knees in an attempt to protect herself.

Moira opened her eyes to unfamiliar surroundings: watery and confusing. Her environment looked as translucent and clear as water itself, but she was not drowning. She breathed very well, in fact. Without implicit knowledge of the situation in which she now found herself, her only sensation was a connection with the golden sphere. Its brightness almost called out to her. It floated with her, like a dancing firefly guiding a child on her way home. An intense pain came from Moira’s back and shoulders. Something was hanging from her back; something she couldn’t describe.

Though the atmosphere muffled them, every sound pierced Moira’s ears. Yet she could not hold back her cries of pain.

“Don’t yell, child.” A voice spoke to her.

“Who... who are you?”

An emerald fairy of heavy appearance looked at her straight in the eyes.

“I’m the one they call Renata,” declared the fairy. “I’m a spirit of the water, and so are you.”

“What?”

“What you heard.” The fairy had a wand, which she used to summon a mirror. A moving reflection appeared right before Moira, showing rosy-tinted wings rising behind her shoulders.

“I’m a water... fairy?”

“Yes.”

A thunderous clamor interrupted the conversation. A sapphire blue fairy ran towards them, calling for Renata, in an evident hurry. She didn’t greet her but whispered something in the other fairy’s ears. Renata nodded at the blue fairy.

“An urgent matter has befallen us, child. Come with us. The Draca needs all the fairies to perform her healing ritual.”

* * *

Small mirrors decorated the moving castle where The Draca lived. It was a floating, dreamlike structure; the walls moved with sounds, laughs, cries and memories. The flow of the water changed continuously, but neither Renata nor the other worried fairies seemed to care about it. It was probably Moira’s human perception that made her look at the castle the way she did; ancient pictures of ancestral fairies hung from the floating walls of brick and stone. On top of that, she was still feeling uncomfortable about her wings.

“Child, please pick up that box,” said Renata, pointing to a wooden box located in one of the long castle halls.

“Child I am not. My name is Moira.”

Renata seemed surprised to hear Moira’s determination.

“A name is a sign of respect,” she nodded. “Very well, Moira. Please, pick up the box.”

Moira had no notion of rebelling or escape. Her wits had not left her but rather formed a conviction that escape was not yet possible; compliance was her only option. And so, Moira followed Renata, as she proceeded through the kitchen picking out various colorful potions.

“Renata,” said Moira. The child pointed at her shoulder with her eyes.

“Yes, Moira?”

Moira’s vision was heavily blurred. She touched her shoulder blades, as her strength swiftly left her body. Her palm was covered in blood, which was also staining her newly acquired wings.

“I cannot. Renata, I...”

Then, her body and all that she carried fell to the floor, lifeless and insensible.

* * *

“Have you regained your senses?”

The girl awoke with nagging pains in her neck and back muscles. She squinted her eyes, feeling as if she hadn’t slept in many days, unsure as she was of how time passed in the world of water.

“What ails me so, Renata?”

“Silence, dear. The bleeding is usual for the new ones, though how it impacts your body depends on the person.”

“You didn’t mention that before.”

“I didn’t deem it necessary. You are not bleeding anymore, either way.”

“I suppose I should be grateful. I want to leave now, Renata. I don’t belong to this world. I want to find my sister. I want to go back home.”

“Moira” — her tone changed ever so slightly — “there is only one way out of our land. You won’t make it alive if you don’t go through us. You need to see the Draca, first.”

“Then why did you not go to her without me?”

“Your ailments prevented it. We need the presence of all fairies, old and new, for the Draca to be properly healed. It is tradition.”

“I don’t understand how I can be of help without your healing knowledge.”

“You will be able to properly learn our ways soon enough. For now, we only need your soul to be within the realm of the Draca.”

* * *

In that most fantastical castle, multitudes of beings congregated before the entrance. The severe atmosphere was clearly reflected in the faces there present. Just through an enormous door, the great hall was well guarded by tall figures. Their faces were covered by golden helmets, and they wore silver chainmail that reflected light. Unable to see their eyes below the hefty helmets, Moira nevertheless felt their glare continually passing across the room scrutinizing every face, every look.

An enormous regal being emerged when the doors were opened towards the throne room. She was about nine feet tall; the tallest entity Moira had ever seen.

Her dress was of the purest of silver, with a tail as long as infinity itself. Her eyes were grey and cloudy. She moved slowly in front of her crowd, gracefully drifting on the heavy water engulfing the environment. She seemed to be more moved by the sound of the voices of her assembly. Moira’s intuition told her this being was blind.

The girl also perceived that the fairies, while they were all packed into the throne room, seemed to be grouped by their clothing. She couldn’t tell why, but those who wore the shiniest attires were closer to the Draca. On the other hand, those with less polished garments were pushed to the sides.

“Welcome, my eternal beings.”

The room became completely silent. The Draca’s voice echoed through the halls, like a loose whisper into the abyss.

“Stay close to me, Moira” said Renata. “Be sure not to get too close to the Ancients.”

“The Ancients?”

“The oldest, and most beautiful fairies of the land; those are what we call The Ancients. The noblest of families get that title.”

A young-looking fairy approached the Draca, helping her wash her hands.

“Who’s that?”

“That’s Fiona. She used to be the newest fairy, that’s why she looks so young. She has chosen a path of servitude and loyalty.”

The Draca’s head pointed at Renata, waiting.

Renata whispered, “Keep quiet. Move only when I tell you.”

Moira frowned. She was not planning to move at all.

Renata approached the leader, following Fiona’s aid to the elder being.

“The time for the ritual has approached, Draca,” she said with a reverence.

“Renata, you have been a good healer and friend for a long, long time. Every passing century I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it for another ritual.”

“Be not worried, my Draca. We will not let your light wither. Your kingdom will live forever.”

“Who has offered themselves for today’s sacrifice?”

“We found two young ones. One speaks a lot and questions all she sees. The other has been induced into a silent panic. She has not spoken since we found her.”

Moira frowned. Was Renata talking about her?

“Have their wings flourished?”

“One went through painful but prolific growth. The other has not thrived. Her wings are short and silk-like. They don’t seem strong enough to propel her.”

“Who do you think is more appropriate for the sacrifice?”

“They are very much alike, in body and age. It’s their souls what makes them so different.”

“Bring them here, Renata.”

In a moment, Renata turned to Moira, and grabbed her hand with force. The rest of the fairies looked at her, immobile. It was all customary to them. Renata didn’t seem unkind in that moment, just... apathetic. As if she wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

“What? No! Renata! What are you doing!”

Renata’s strength felt unmatchable. Moira kicked and shouted, but no one seemed to care.

“Draca,” said Renata, “This is the older one. Both are sisters of the same mother.’”

“What? Sisters? What do you mean? Let me go!”

Renata made Moira kneel. She grabbed both her hands, casting a spell. A magical green rope bound her hands tightly.

“Renata! What are you doing?”

No answer came from Renata.

That’s when Moira saw Iona, kneeling right next to her. Two other fairies uncovered her face, showing a terrified young girl, muted by the panic. She looked at her sister but didn’t dare to raise her head.

“Moira,” she whispered, “help me. Please.”

Moira looked at the Draca, angered and desperate, helplessly attempting to be freed from her magical ties.

“We summoned you,” proclaimed the leader, “to help our Kingdom live till the end of Time.”

The crowd nodded, silent.

“I will explain our ways, young ones. One will donate her life to me. The other will be returned to the land of those who live as humans and will be welcome to our realm anytime she wishes to return.”

“Your eyes shine; your hands are nimble,” said the Draca. “You are both young, I cannot choose, myself; I will let thee, Moira, pick both your destinies.”

“What? Why? Why do I have to choose?” Moira appealed.

Though her heart trembled, to her surprise her voice was distinct. Her mind was calm and clear. Moira wondered if her magical ties were controlling more than her hands. Were the fairies controlling her words? Was she speaking by herself?

“We respect age amongst families. Age, to us, is the fundamental indicator of wisdom. And you, Moira, are the elder between you and your sister.”

Moira looked at Iona. She seemed tired, as if she didn’t want to fight anymore. Her eyes looked drained of all emotion. All she had left was the word of her sister.

Moira...she was the one to decide.

Is this decision binding? Moira thought to herself. Why would she need to sacrifice herself for the greater good? Why would she need to give her life to let her sister live? There was no other way; they couldn’t both flee. They were trapped. She had to choose, and the Draca was growing more impatient by the second. Iona had never suffered a moment in her life. Her parents preferred her to Moira, every waking moment. Iona was prettier, had more friends, she got on well with the family better than Moira could ever dream of.

Everyone liked her sister more than her. People said that Moira was too convoluted, too argumentative, too stubborn, not submissive. She would never find a husband. It was true. Moira was all that. She was not her sister.

However, she had never been given the chance to shine the same way her sister did.

“I... I have made my choice.”

“What?” Iona’s weak voice cried out. “No! Moira! Don’t do it! Don’t hurt yourself for me!”

“I shan’t, sister. I will not be the one to suffer. Not this time.”

“What?”

“A decision has been made!” announced the Draca. “Free the older girl. Let the ritual commence!”

Moira’s magical ties fell from her wrists. With a final glance at her sister, she ran through the multitude, back to the nursery where Renata had healed her. The younger girl didn’t understand what was going on; her screams were quietly muffled as Moira left.

“Goodbye, sister. Goodbye.”

* * *

The effect of the Tea of Memories had worn off.

Ava’s eyes were filled with tears. Moira attempted to comfort the child, but Ava quickly withdrew, preventing any sort of touch.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!”

“Ava,” said Moira, trying to keep her calm, “I’m not going to do anything to—”

“I would rather die than remain here with you. Monster! You killed my mother! Bring her back!”

“I... I cannot bring her back, Ava. I’m sorry. I cannot. I just thought you deserved to know the truth.”

“I hate you! Never, never, see me again, Aunt Moira. Don’t talk to me or Marius ever again!” The young girl quickly ran out of the hut, looking for her brother.

Moira sat in silence. She watched the child as she ran away. She couldn’t blame her for her reaction; not at all. Ava’s family had been destroyed, thanks to Moira’s own selfishness.

However, there was a very small part of her that was still proud of her decision. To all parents and families, she hoped her tale would become a lesson: never let the fairies know who the favorite child is. She prayed to the water fairies for Ava and Marius not to make her own parents’ mistake.