Eris Vanserra Fanfiction-A Land Of Lavender And Thistle-Book One

CHAPTER III

Ruth

I was having that dream again.

One in which the world was made of ruby, copper and gold, the wind soft and cool, just as I liked it. And in the distance, I could hear the lulling melody of a flute, its sound so gentle and pure I couldn't resist it.

I lifted myself from the ground covered with fallen leaves, despite the rich treetops with fresh apples arching above me. I took a deep breath, then began walking toward the mesmerising play of the flute.

I don't know how long I stalked over dry leaves, old tree trunks and rough stones, but I didn't appear to get any closer to the source of the flute. Biting my lip, I halted, scanning the trees around me. My hips began to move then, swinging in the rhythm of the supple yet cheerful music. Even my fingers drummed against my thighs, my bare feet tapping, all on their own, like the song took control over my body.

I needed to find where it was coming from.

However, the trees stretching in every direction didn't look all that different from the ones I woke up surrounded with. Was I going in circles? The music hadn't become any louder or quieter, no matter how far I went.

Suddenly, a rapid beat of a drum accompanied the flute. I grimaced at its false playing. Yet, the drum gradually became louder and louder, until it completely consumed the beautiful song of the flute …

I jerked awake, my hand already holding the dagger I kept beneath my pillow.

The drum continued to echo throughout the bedroom, making me frown. Then, I realised it was no drum.

Within seconds, I kicked my feet out of the bed, aware of the world around me completely, as well as the clamour bouncing off the walls. What my mind interpreted as a raging drum was the sound of someone banging their fists on the front door of the cottage, mingling with Brux's deep bark.

Padding out of the bedroom, my eyes adapting to the darkness of the house, I advanced to the door, my dagger's blade cold against my skin as I hid it behind my forearm. I unlocked the door and opened it, ready to give my unwanted visitor a piece of my mind, when Giselle nearly fell into the house. I caught her arm, steadying her on her feet as the lantern in her hand lit her face, her red-rimmed eyes tearful, terror etched in her features.

"Giselle, what are you doing here?"

She wept and her legs gave out, pulling her to the floor where Brux began licking her tears-damp cheeks. "They took him! They took him, they took him, they took him!"

"Who? What are you talking about?" She cried harder and I regretted my sharp tone. I placed a hand on her neck, massaging the taut muscles there, just as Mama Amelia taught me years before. The crispy night air washed over the cottage, the smell of rain from earlier that evening curling up my nose. "Giselle, talk to me. What happened? Where is Warren?"

Her head snapped up and she screamed, "They took him! The fairies took him!"

For a moment, I froze where I knelt beside her as I got sucked away into the past. Every memory I had with Warren – every laugh, every joke, every banter – flashed before my eyes.

Then, it all zeroed to a single word: fairies.

Blinking, I forced myself to remain calm. My hands were trembling, my teeth were chattering, my blood was boiling.

I hauled Giselle inside the house, hoping to guide her to one of the chairs at the other side of the room. Although, her body sagged to the floor again once she was far enough from the door for me to close it.