The Forsaken Prophecy

Chapter Seven

It was cold, dark, and claustrophobic within the tube. The door had closed behind them, Rowen assumed, but they had been moving so fast she wasn't sure if the sudden lack of light was from the closing door or their distance from the opening.

Suddenly, there was no more tube beneath them, and Rowen and the little girl plummeted five to ten feet down into a pillow.

Rowen took in their surroundings using a dim light that glowed as she got her breath back. When Rowen finally registered that they were in a cart that seemed to be made entirely of memory foam but was softly glowing, she sighed in relief. She was safe.

Her relief quickly turned to fear for her friends.

Rowen, reminded of her pint sized aquaintance by a mournful hiccup, glanced down to find the child sucking her thumb, eyes glazed, curled against Rowen. When she gently set her down, the girl curled into the fetal position. After a short mental discussion with herself, Rowen let her be.

She stood up carefully and gazed down over the edge of the cart. She saw nothing but blackness. The same went for everything around her, except the faintly glowing carts. She watched as færies and humaniods faded into existence as they flew from the tubes above the carts--even they were cloaked in blackness. Most of the færies immediately began to fly, but when they realized there was a cart to catch them, they carefully lowered themselves into it.

Finally, the carts jerked forward, then slowly began moving much more smoothly. Rowen looked again at the lost child, who was now restlessly asleep. Rowen couldn't rest.

A shadow moved to her left and she whipped her head around just in time to see Ayren buzzing past. "Ayren!" she shouted, then clapped a hand over her mouth as the noise echoed loudly in the near silence.

Ayren stopped and turned. "Oh, Rowen! I was looking for you, actually," he admitted. 

"Where's Jason? And how did you know to find us here? How do you know about this place? Why are you looking for us?"

Ayren laughed and held up a hand. "I'll explain soon. Anyway, you have no clue where Jason is? Do you know if he's behind or in front of you?"

"I don't know," Rowen said desperately, her voice cracking. "Find him, please."

Ayren nodded briskly and took off. When he returned, he found Rowen rocking the now-awake little girl on her lap.

"What's your name?" asked Rowen in the sugary sweet voice typically used around small children and cute animals.

"Amarinda."

"That's a pretty name!"

Ayren cleared his throat. "I found Jason. He's fine. A woman in the cart next to his is sobbing hysterically about her lost daughter, though."

Rowen hefted the toddler up into his arms, and her carefully flew off. Rowen smiled at the scene: an indifferent government ambassador carefully and gently cradling a baby in arms strong enough to snap a man's arm in two...

When Ayren returned a second time, he landed in the cart, making it sway a little more profoundly, and sat down cross-legged. "Jason threatened me about being alone with you."

Rowen blushed. "Ignore him. He's...weird stuff's happening with him."

"Well, maybe he can let his tension out. We could go a few rounds."

Rowen dubiously eyed the færie's bulging muscles, thought of Jason's bony form, and shook her head vigorously, allowing a small smile to shade her lips.

Ayren laughed quietly. "I'm completely joking. I would never hurt you. Or your friends," he added as if on an afterthought. All the humor was quickly wiped from his gaze, and he met Rowen's gaze steadily until she shifted uncomfortably and looked away, blushing yet again.