Tonnilark sat among his fellow Summer Children listening to the tales of the dream merchant. As tall as a shrub with skin the color marigolds and eyes like the bottomless depths of the sweet water sea, Tonnilark was the most magnificent of the crowd. He was faster than a lynx, wittier than a fox, and braver than a wolverine. Often the Summer Mother herself called him to court.   

"Traveling through the shadowland are mortals in droves," Torgovets exclaimed, as he pulled a memory from his sack. His voice was accented heavy with the death of Winter. "This young boy still grasped the dear hand of his mother as they both crossed. Hope and joy, mingled with trepidation does it hold."

Torgovets passed the memory around so others could examine the exquisite emotion held inside. The lock on top prevented anything but a glimpse, but a glimpse was all the fey needed to know its worth.

"Two chunks of beryl or a nugget of platinum will make you the proud owner of that fine experience," Torgovets continued. He was an impish creature with yellow saucer eyes and a long black tale. He had a toothy grin, no lips, and skin the color of lead. He was one of the few who could travel the shadowland without fear. Not of fey, nor of mortal lands; only a few knew his true nature. The Summer Mother allowed his travel, so the Summer Children gathered around to hear his tales, and buy his baubles.

Tonnilark grasped the memory,and jolted as the flood of emotion hit him. Hope and joy, mixed with trepidation was something he had never encountered before. The feeling was bittersweet and actually sent a chill through him.

He handed the memory to the outstretched hands of another Summer Child. Tonnilark had visited the mortal side more than once, and as the bravest of the Summer Children, he knew that mother and child mortals did not keep the same emotions, as adult mortals so often did. "Were you able to barter for the mother's memory?" Tonnilark asked, his voice like the flapping of a great eagle.

Torgovets turned his grey skin towards Tonnilark and smiled, "Those of light skin I doubt would be interested in such a thing. I carry that ware to the Winter Children." He gave a slight bow in apology.

 "I would know the mother's memory," Tonnilark said smiling back, "If beryl is what you seek, I have it," he added quickly producing four perfect specimens of the gem. Like Tonnilark, the treasures he produced had a perfect yellow hue.

Torgovets eyed the gemstones greedily. The Winterlands paid handsomely for such beauty. He then looked back to Tonnilark who had quickly placed the gems back in his pouch. "Warn you thus, Summer Child, the memory of the mother contains neither hope nor joy. Trade I will with you, but require the payment first," he said, licking his lips and eyeing the pouch at Tonnilarks side.

"A bargain shall be struck," Tonnilarks said producing the gemstones again and passing them to the merchant.

Quickly the child's memory returned to Tonnilark as the merchant produced the mother's experience. Not allowing the other Summer Children to touch the object, Torgovets passed the object directly to Tonnilark.

Fear, despair, agony, and hatred hit Tonnilark like a boulder crashing down a mountain.

Torgovets stared intently at Tonnilark, afraid the Summer Child would demand his gems back, but he saw no such desire.

Tonnilark steeled himself, stood, and walked stoically to his favorite spot, a glade on a peak surrounded by blue pines. He ignored the queries and prods of his friends and siblings.

Once he arrived, he sat with his back to a tree. The sons and daughters of spring tweeted and flitted about, a great reminder of the blessings the fey had bestowed upon the land.

Summer Children had been reared to enjoy the lands Spring had made. They represented joy, pleasure, and carnality. Tonnilark had always been different. Like his siblings he did love joy, pleasure, and carnality; but he had always felt like Winter when he saw the ferret eat the kit. He had asked the Summer Mother what it meant, and she had just replied with a smile and told him there was more to life than joy, pleasure, and carnality. Justice was a Summer word, and like everything else Summer, there was a Winter equivalent; revenge.

Ever since that meeting, Tonnilark had pondered on the statement, however, he never made any headway. The kit becomes a rabbit and eats the seeds of a bush. Does the bush deserve justice? Does the rabbit deserve to starve? It was the natural way of things, and Tonnilark understood that a mountain gives its gems only after a hole is dug.

Humans were different however, they were not of Spring, Summer, Autumn, nor Winter. Humans were of all and of none. They could experience all emotions, sometimes on a single day. Their lives were short but so rich. In fact, Tonnilark had become the bravest of all the Summer Children simply because he wanted more gems so he could experience more memories. The more gems he harvested, the more the dream trader would give. Although this was the first time, Tonnilark had traded for a Winter memory.

He sat against his tree and braced himself, and then opened the mother's memory first.

    #

"Kulak," a vile a man spat. He pointed a weapon at the mother who held her son fiercely.

"Please, I have no money, no food. They have taken it all. We have nothing!" she pleaded, fear poured from her like a torrent.

"You kulaks are always hiding something!" he said raising the weapon to his shoulder.

"Please," she begged again, "We have already given the Dear Father everything!"

The vile man made a gesture with his hand. Several men with similar weapons surrounded the woman.

"Where is your husband?" he asked angrily. He was tall for a human, broad-chested, and black haired. He had a large bushy mustache which flapped when he yelled. He wore the same clothes as the men surrounding the woman.

"He is in the Norillag," she replied, crying.

"A family of criminals," he said while motioning for the two men to grab the woman.

Fear and anger swelled from her, she was no criminal.

"We know you have wheat! The traders saw you loading it!" the man said pointing his weapon accusingly at her.

"Please, we do not even have enough to fertilize a field! We have no wheat, the men lied!" she yelled.

"Perhaps we can fertilize the field in another way," he said an evil look on his face.

Terror filled her heart, and she began to sob. She grabbed her son and attempted to comfort him.

He was young, only just four, and didn't understand.

"Turn and walk," he said pointing to the large barren field behind her house.

She did as she was ordered, what choice did she have? Death was far better than some of the things she had heard had been done to other kulaks.

"Mommy, where are we going?" her son asked frightened.

Anger filled her heart, but in her rage, she repressed the fear. She clung to the anger like a weapon. A weapon for mercy?

"We are going on a picnic," she told her son smiling as they walked through the field. She continued her voice growing stronger, "Your father will be there too. He has honey, milk, and fresh bread."

#

The memory stopped abruptly. Tonnilark knew the woman had no more memory to give, as that was the last thing either of the two had experienced.

The Winter emotions were so intense, so vivid.

He found himself grinding his teeth and clenching his hand.

Tonnilark examined the son's memory and found it to be similar, except with the mother's determination, the mention of his father, and the promise of food, the son had seen hope.

The Summer Child pondered the experience and replayed it numerous times. Unlike the bear that eats the deer, he found no reason for the man to kill the woman and child. He knew that humans didn't eat other humans. He also knew that most creatures didn't intentionally create fear in their prey. Sure fear was had, but it was never so hateful.

Tonnilark examined the boy and mother. He touched the memory of their souls and reached out to touch the land. In an instant, he found the places of their greatest feelings. The rush of the woman's first kiss in love. The night of her wedding; fear of a different sort, but fear mingled with burning desire. He found a different love, the love of a mother and child. Tonnilark concentrated on that emotion, and although he couldn't experience it himself, he could find it. Like the fox tracks a scent, Tonnilark began to track the feeling.

He picked up his memories, and his possessions and looked down with strange bewilderment. His hand, the hand where he had touched the Winter memory, was black as night, halfway up his arm.

Tonnilark had always been praised for his beautiful skin, and now he had a stain.

Normally the fey would have run to the Mother or other fey, but his affliction was second in his mind. He didn't know why but he wanted the man in the memory to be hurt.

Tonnilark had traveled the mortal realm often and knew that creatures could be especially dangerous there. More than once, he had been chased by wolves, treed by bears, or hid from an eagle. In service to the Summer Mother, Tonnilark had received a blade of grass blessed by the Mother, Father, Daughter, and Son. Similar to the Winter Icicle, the Autumn Leaf, or the Spring Sprig, the Summer Blade was a fantastical object of perfection.

The blade never dulled, was as verdant as an emerald, and could not be bent or broken.

Tonnilark had never used it on an animal, and only ever really used it to harvest gems from the mountain. Now he had visions of the green blade slicing the human.

The Summer Child retrieved his blade from his nest and proceeded to Man-pupu-ner, one of the places of folding.

"My beautiful Tonnilark," the voice came like a rainbow and filled the air with the smell of honeysuckle. Butterflies flew around indicative of the Summer Mother's breath.

Tonnilark turned and bowed. The Queen of the Summer Court stood atop thickets of red roses. The gown she wore sparkled and scintillated with the myriad of gemstones encrusted in silk; a gift from the mountain.

As she spoke more butterflies wafted from her mouth, "Your heart holds Winter, and your hand holds the Summer Blade. Please tell me, my child, where do you go with such things?"

His face down and his body bent in prostration, Tonnilark responded with truth, as only the fey could reply, "I seek to hurt a human who hurts other humans."

"Why would a Child of Summer care about the mortals?" she asked, her voice a beautiful medley of colors.

 "I," he started, but couldn't find the words. Why did he care?

The time of countless cycles had given the Summer Mother wisdom beyond reckoning, "I hold you, my son, at the top of my court. A mission you undertake so lightly? We are not of the mortal realm, whose emotions change faster than the winds. What you do, will have dire consequences, not just for you," she warned.

Tonnilark looked down at his hand, the black began to fade slightly. Then the fear of the mother with her son flooded back into him as he met the Queen of the Summer Court's eyes, "I must," he said, determinedly.

She was not taken aback, and she perhaps knew that he would respond as such, "Tonnilark, justice is of the Summer, revenge of the Winter. Do not destroy yourself by seeking the wrong thing."

Tonnilark bowed his head again, it was impolite to stare at her grace.

He waited for several heartbeats before realizing she had left.

Tonnilark stood and looked at his hand. It was black up to the elbow.

He shook himself and turned back towards Man-pupu-ner, a determination in his step. The Queen had not ordered him to stop, nor had she insisted that what he was doing was wrong, only that he should be careful.

After reaching the seven large stones, Tonnilark sat in the exact center and began the song of sending. It was a song taught to him by the Autumn Crows, just like the Spring Storks taught them how to return.

One-hundred heartbeats later, and he was in the land of mortals. Unlike the Summer, the air was frigid, the sky filled with clouds, and water sprinkled from the heavens. The animals in the mortal realm were the same, but no longer saw him as a few, but prey or a predator. No bird would speak to him.

Tonnilark was thousands of paces away from the farm which he sought. While he might seem like prey in the lands of mortals, he was quick, witty, and dangerous. More than one trick resided in his mind.

He also had no need for food, although he enjoyed the milk of a goat, placed on a saucer at the back door of a home, on the Summer Solstice. Of course, he wouldn't say no to goat's milk, on a saucer, at the back door at any other time of year.

His clothes shimmered like the silk of a spider bejeweled in dew, as did his blade. Fey items remained firmly as part of their lands, and could never fully come to the mortal realm.

The mission had officially begun, and he started south.

The first thing he noticed was the Winter ingrained in the lands. He had come previously several hundred, maybe even thousands of times, and every time felt similar; a mix of all seasons. No more, the Winter Father held the lands firmly in his icy grip.

No sooner had he traveled the distance a deer runs in a minute, when he heard grass fall under the foot of something massive.

He spun deftly, drew his blade, and raised his hand preparing to make the sign of forgetting.

A wolf, black as pitch, with eyes like the noonday sun stood before him. It stood half a shoulder higher than the largest wolf Tonnilark had ever seen. Its teeth were the purest white ivory and showed no decay, dirt, or dent.

"I saw you cross the bridge, little morsel of Summer," he said, his voice deep and powerful, yet somehow soothing.

"I am no morsel of yours, Winter Wolf!" Tonnilark shouted, holding his blade forward, "And you will find, I can sting worse than the largest bee!"

"Winter Wolf?" the animal asked, his voice resonated with offense, "There are none other like me sunny," he said and then laughed deeply at his own joke.

Tonnilark tilted his head in curiosity, the creature before him was not of the mortal realm, and therefore could not betray words. The beast also made a joke, which the Children of Winter rarely did.

"You are not of this mortal world, tell me, creature, what court do you pledge your allegiance to?" Tonnilark demanded, looking around. There were no others in sight.

"Neither King, nor Queen, nor Duke, nor Dutchess, do I proclaim fealty," he said circling Tonnilark.

"Yet you are fey!" Tonnilark accused, matching the creature's movements.

"Yet I am fey," the creature admitted, stopping in place.

"Enough banter, are you enemy, friend, or other?" Tonnilark asked. It was usually rude in fey circles to make such demands of the fellow fey, but Tonnilark felt his question justified. The creature had, after all, approached him, and called him a morsel.

"I am now, neither enemy nor friend," it responded eyeing Tonnilarks sword hilt.

"Yet you approached me!" Tonnilark said thinking himself clever, "Therefore you are interested in me, and the questions I answer could determine our status. I pray you hurry creature! I have little patience for conversation this day."

"Off to kill a human?" the creature asked.

Tonnilark narrowed his eyes, but he was compelled to either flee so he could not answer, or answer in truth, "I am."

"Tell me, why would a Child of Summer, with a gift from the Queen, be seeking the death of a mortal?" the creature asked, and then sat on its haunches.

Once again, the Summer Child couldn't betray words, so he spoke truthfully, "I truly do not know."

The large wolf nodded, and closed his eyes in contemplation, "Has this human wronged you, or the court somehow?" his deep voice asked, less accusingly than before.

Tonnilark decided to indulge the creature, a few minutes of conversation could help him understand his own motivations. He sat as well and placed the blade point down on the ground between him and the giant beast.

"No, and yes," he said honestly.

The wolf smiled a toothy grin.

"A riddle with a half answer!" he exclaimed.

Tonnilark once again looked quizzically at the creature. He did not behave like a normal fey. Normal fey hated riddles that didn't have a singularly perfect answer.

"Who are you?" Tonnilark said, and then regretted the rude interruption. The creature had allowed Tonnilark to ask a few questions, and it should have been the wolf's turn.

Had Tonnilark been asked the same question he would have given his name, and the court he claimed. The creature, however, seemed to steel itself for a true naming. A naming which was more honest than the one Tonnilark would have given.

"I am the portent of sorrow to those who disgrace even the Winter King. I am the courier of the wretched. I travel the shadow and seek those who deserve eternal torment. I am The Grimmaz," he said puffy his chest proudly.

"I'm Tonnilark," Tonnilark said unimpressed.

Slightly deflated The Grimmaz look incredulously at the small fey.

"Why would The Grimmaz, follow me to the land of the mortal?" Tonnilark asked.

"Have I not already answered your question, little Golden Rose of Summer?" the Grimmaz asked.

Tonnilark looked up at him surprised. Only the Queen had ever called him that. It was one of his few true names. He was the Golden Rose of Summer, the knight errant of the Summer Court.

"How do you know that name!?" Tonnilark yelled.

In response, The Grimmaz opened his mouth and released a breath that was as thick ice fog, and just as cold. It enveloped Tonnilark, and the Summer Child closed his eyes and slumped in a stupor.

#

Tonnilark found himself frolicking among the glades and trees of the mortal realm. He played tag with the humans who were still young enough to see him, and not be frightened. He pulled a young child from the cliff edge before she could tumble into the rapids below. He fought off a bear, scratching at the base of a tree, where another boy had hidden.

He stole a silver cherry from the Spring Garden and delivered it to the mom of a dying infant. Ever grateful, the mother put fresh honey and milk at her backdoor on the Summer Solstice.

He blessed the weddings of the Woad People, by gifting them the blessings of two children in a single womb.

He had done much for the mortals of the realm and had gained much in return. Their memories, laughter, and love had all left an indelible mark on his soul.

#

Tonnilark sat up quickly, his memories had flooded into him with The Grimmaz breath, but just as soon as they had come, they were gone with the breeze.

"You see, Child of Summer," The Grimmaz said as he stood and began to pace again, "With a look into your eyes, I can see your soul."

"Why have you shown me those things that have come and gone?" Tonnilark asked the happiness that had previously filled him began to wane.

The Grimmaz stopped his pacing and with one leap came eye to eye with Tonnilark, "How does the Golden Rose of Summer hold Winter in his heart?" The Grimmaz retorted.

Tonnilark was not used to Fey answering questions with questions.

The Grimmaz backed away slightly and said, "I can only see those actions which make a soul. Your heart holds Winter, yet your soul holds Summer. Your hand wanes and waxes like the moon. Will your hand serve Winter, Summer, or something more?" The Grimmaz asked.

Tonnilark looked down at his hand noticed the color had changed back to marigold, with only the fingertips remaining dark.

"I will take you to a human for which my hand and heart turn black," Tonnilark said, and then turned once again south.

The Grimmaz followed without comment.

#

Tonnilark arrived at the place of death and despair. The farm was abandoned, but not damaged. The smell of decay filled the nostrils of both creatures as they approached.

"Do humans no longer seek the Autumn Blessings? Do they leave their dead to rot above the earth like a common animal?," The Grimmaz asked rhetorically.

"They no longer seek the blessing of any court. Even now in this land they have stopped decorating the trees during winter, no longer praise Spring for the harvest, or ask our Blessings on the days union," Tonnilark said bemoaning a time long past, "Even Winter regrets this transformation," he said looking down.

The Grimmaz loped forward, following the smell of death, before stopping at two bodies. Their corpses were bloated with rot. Large blood stains had darkened, and their clothes contained holes.

"Weapons used in such manner, are not of any court I know. Even Winter slices with meaning. This was," Tonnilark looked for the word, "just wasteful. Without reason."

"I have traveled the shadow for countless ages," The Grimmaz said, "Murder for passion, envy, and fright are common. Murder for hate is less so, but it does happen. This has the stench of hate, but not hate of an individual."

"The words you speak belong to the Winter Court. Surely he has a hand in this," Tonnilark said accusingly.

The Grimmaz looked back at Tonnilark, "Long you have lived, and you have not seen the power of mortal emotion? You frolic with the nymphs, but know not the passion of a betrothed first touch? You have seen the beauty of the land, but know not the artist who captures it with dyes and brushes. No Tonnilark, Winter had no hand in this. Just as Spring has no hand in a mother's tears when her child is born."

Tonnilark contemplated this for a moment. He had often looked upon the throws of passion, of two lovers first touch and envied their coupling.

The Grimmaz suddenly spit something on the ground in front of Tonnilark. The fey picked it up and examined it.

"Copper and lead. Shaped weirdly, like a long acorn or a thin pine cone," he said examining the heavy object.

The Grimmaz growled a little, "A bullet. The stench of murder still hangs on it."

Tonnilark had vague ideas of the Winter lexicon, but he was confused upon the multiple mentions of the word murder.

"That Winter word you keep using, murder," Tonnilark started but soon realized he was looking foolish. He had met the Children of Winter numerous times, and while they were an unpleasant lot, they weren't murderers. He wasn't quite sure the distinction.

The Grimmaz made an exasperated sigh, "Spring and Summer, always so naive," he said, and then proceeded with an explanation, "Murder is killing without true purpose and with selfish intent. The eagle kills the rabbit because it must eat. If the bird does not slay the rabbit, then the bird dies. So it is with many animals. When the eagle is sated, does it continue to kill rabbits?"

Tonnilark thought about that question and decided that he had never seen a hawk kill a rabbit, without eating it. "No," he answered.

"As I have said, murder is usually connected to passion," The Grimmaz stated.

Tonnilark sneered, "Murder is not a Summer word!"

The Grimmaz growled a little, and then shouted, "Do not interrupt Child of Summer, or alone you will be on your journey!"

Rebuffed, Tonnilark nodded.

"Passion, envy, and fright lead to murder. Hate with passion, hate with envy, and hate with fright are the typical causes. Hate without passion, envy, or fright, but hate with apathy, is what murdered this woman. A very dangerous combination. Hate for the sake of hate," The Grimmaz said.

Tonnilark continued to be confused. The Grimmaz was speaking words of Summer mixed with words of Winter.

"Such things should be antithetical to each other," The Grimmaz said softly contemplating his own words.

Tonnilark had no notion of many of the ideas The Grimmaz spoke, but his heart was stern.

"You can follow this rock?" Tonnilark asked.

"I can follow the bullet to the one who tainted it," The Grimmaz said, "But I warn you, Child of Summer, I warn you with the knowledge of ancients past, and time eternal; what you find at the end of the trail will not be a murderer, but a choice."

Tonnilark shook his head again, not quite understanding of what The Grimmaz was referring.

This time The Grimmaz lead through the countryside. Never once did he waiver, and as the sun dipped behind the mountains, Tonnilark noted that his entire sword arm took on a distinct shade of twilight.

The Sun's twin held high in the sky. The night was clear, chilled, yet somehow bright.

The large wolf led him to a town west of Man-pupu-ner. Only a few houses had lights shining through the windows. Music played in one of the taverns; however, it was not the music Tonnilark had heard before. The music carried no joy, no passion.

"The one who tainted the bullet is in that building," The Grimmaz said indicating the tavern, "Will you wait, or will you seek your destiny now?"

Tonnilark was once again confused at the question, The Grimmaz was speaking like the Queen or Duchess.

"Injured I have been before, and I do not desire a repeat. I will meet the man alone, and demand satisfaction," Tonnilark said grabbing his blade and swinging it in a figure eight.

"Let us wait then," The Grimmaz said.

The night went by slowly, and Tonnilark paced to and fro. Anxiety was an Autumn word, but Tonnilark had known it before. He recognized and attempted to channel it into Summer. Instead, he found that anxiety like Autumn only preceded Winter.

Finally, the music stopped, and three men, all carrying long spears of wood and iron emerged from the pub. They wore the same clothing Tonnilark had seen in the memory. The clothes were dull and brown except a giant red star with a hammer and sickle in the center, made of copper, and plated in gold.

The men stumbled, intoxicated about. Their voices were loud, and they appeared jolly. They were oblivious to the two fey.

"Will you approach them now fey, or will you wait?" The Grimmaz asked, curiosity raging in his eyes.

"A human keeps company with his peers. Winter grasps my heart. I long only for Summer. Let this task be finished," Tonnilark said as he strode forward towards the three men.

He stopped in front of them, just a few paces shy until they finally noticed him.

"Don't you know there's a curfew!" One of the men yelled, "Go home before I smack some sense into you," he said slurring his words.

Tonnilark spoke and understood all languages, but even he was having difficulty following the slurs of an intoxicated man.

Steeling himself, he presented his blade in a salute and swiped down, "I am The Golden Rose, Knight Errant to the Queen of Summer, and I seek satisfaction for your deeds!"

All three men paused for a moment and then began bellowing in laughter.

One of the men raised his voice a few octaves and began mocking the small fey, "I am Tonya Ark Golden Goose of Summer."

The other two roared, bent over, and grabbed their stomachs.

Between fits of laughter, the one in the middle pulled his rifle from his back and aimed it threateningly at the fey, "Off with you before you regret kid!"

The Grimmaz strode forward and caught each one's stare with his golden eyes. The laughter ended immediately and fear washed over their faces. The other two pulled their weapons from their backs, but only held them defensively.

The Grimmaz exhaled a dense fog.

#

Tonnilark stood among three men all in the same uniform as the men outside the tavern. In front of him was a woman with a bloody face and a swollen eye. Beside her lay a man, a large bleeding hole in his chest.

"Please comrade, I am pregnant!" she pleaded.

"They all say that!" he responded, "But don't worry if you don't fight it won't hurt."

She began to sob, and only muttered "Please."

Tonnilark saw the first man, the leader, walk forward as he unbuttoned his pants, the other two went around to hold the woman.

The Grimmaz didn't stop the memory, and Tonnilark was forced to watch the horrific act unfold.

By the end, all three men had taken turns violating the woman.

She laid comatose, bloody, and bruised, but still breathing.

"Can't have this kulak blabbing to the commissar," the one in the middle exclaimed, "Anatoly, it's your turn," he said pointing to the man on the left.

Tears streamed down Tonnilarks face, as the cold icy grip of winter grasped his chest.

Anatoly readied his rifle, placed a bayonet on the end, and stabbed the woman in the chest.

She made no noise.

#

The memory faded and Tonnilark stood motionless, his dark skin reflected no light.

The three men stood motionless as well, the shared memory, alcohol, and strange wolf overloaded their minds.

With a flash Tonnilark sped towards Anatoly and whipped his Summer Blade neatly through the man's shins, both legs separated neatly, and blood spurted as he collapsed to the ground screaming.

The other two, seeing their comrade laying on the ground, panicked and began to run away from the most significant threat, the wolf.

Instead, they found Tonnilark recovering from his swipe, already twirling to strike out at the one in the middle.

They were men used to a fight, however, and the middle of the three brought his rifle down in an effort to intercept the blade.

Weapons of iron and wood were no match for the Summer Blade. Tonnilark barely noticed the resistance, as the emerald green weapon cleaved the Mosin Nagant neatly in two, and then continued along its path striking up through the man's groin and into his abdomen.

With a shriek of pain, he cried out and fell. The sound of the two pieces of rifle soon followed, accenting his shouts.

The third man seeing his friends cut down so easily, went to his knees and began to beg for mercy.

A small fog went over Tonnilarks head, as a vision of woman pleading for mercy enveloped him.

Shaking off the distraction Tonnilark strode purposefully to the man and stared him in the eyes.

A low growl followed by a deep voice broke through the shrieks of pain, "Do you strike because they hurt you? Do you strike for anger? Or do you strike for something," The Grimmaz paused, "more?"

Tonnilark looked the man in the eyes, Autumn and Winter held his face in fear. Tonnilark wanted the man to suffer, but a spark of Summer still resided in him.

With a clean stroke of his blade, the man's head fell neatly to the ground with a thump. Shortly after his body thudded too.

The screaming to his left brought the focus back to him and walked to the man on the ground clutching his abdomen and screaming.

Tonnilark shoved the blade through the man's throat, severing his spine from his brain. A look of shock and confusion washed his face, as he transitioned to the Shadowlands.

Finally, Tonnilark walked to the man who was screaming and clutching his legs. "Join your friends," he said, and with a tinge of pleasure he stabbed the man in the exact place, he had stabbed the woman.

The Grimmaz sat on his haunches and looked around before speaking, "You could have made them suffer."

Tonnilark nodded, determination on his face, "Winter holds me still, why is my skin dark as twilight? The deed is done!"

The Grimmaz shook his massive head, "Was it Summer or Winter that guided your hand, for a fey must be governed by one or the other."

Tonnilark was about to respond when three distinct pops filled the soundless void of night, "Tonnilark the Golden Rose, I have been sent by the Fey Court to bring you to judgment," said Grey Flake, the Knight Errant of the Winter Court. She was accompanied by Petal Bloom and Red Leaf, the Knight's Errant of Spring and Autumn.

Tonnilark sheathed his blade and walked purposefully with them. They were his peers, his true peers. The champions of each court. They would not have been able to appear so abruptly without their lieges power infusing them.

Tonnilark looked around to say goodbye to The Grimmaz, but the large wolf was nowhere to be seen.

#

The court was to be held in the city of coral, a location-neutral to the fey courts of land, and Tonnilark found himself seated on a coral chair, facing the four royals on their thrones, each a champion at their side, except the Queen, who sat in shame alone.

The cave they presided in glowed with blue and green luminescence, and small crustaceans could be seen scurrying about.

"Tonnilark," the Prince of Tides said formally, "The Golden Rose of Summer, you are accused of violating one of the most sacred of all pacts, the unnatural slaying of three mortals. While the deed has in fact been verified, a peer of the court will be afforded the opportunity to present an argument for extenuation or mitigation."

Tonnilark looked up at his queen, but she only stared ahead, Winter on her face.

The senior of the court, the King of Winter spoke first, his voice was cold and icy as a glacier at night, "Golden Rose of Summer, why have you betrayed our most sacred pact, and spilled the blood of these mortals?"

"I," Tonnilark started. As with all fey, he was incapable of lying. Unfortunately, he didn't know the truth either. He wasn't sure why he had done what he had done, other than it needed to be done.

The four royals sat patiently for him to respond.

"I do not know," Tonnilark said.

As with all fey rulers, they were wise beyond comparison. As old as the Earth itself, the Queen, King, Duke, and Duchess were impossibly patient.

Tonnilark stood for several hours in an attempt to answer the question. Even though he despised Winter, he knew that a fey of his station should treat the King with the utmost respect.

"Were you guided by curiosity?" the Duke of Autumn asked. The transition from life to death was his domain, and he often found that young humans would throw small animals in an effort to see what happened.

"No," Tonnilark responded.

The Duke of Autumn sat back.

"Hate?" the King of Winter asked.

"Yes," Tonnilark answered, "But not just."

The Queen of Summer kept her mouth closed. Sitting in shame, she would limit her comments, as was the tradition.

The Duchess of Spring reminded Tonnilark of the little children he used to play with. Her innocence reminded him of the little boy who was stabbed with a bullet.

"I wanted the boy to be...happy," Tonnilark said. He wasn't pleased with the word happy, but he had no other word for it.

"Happy?" the Duchess said, her voice a melody, "Tell us Tonnilark, of what boy do you speak?"

Tonnilark removed the memory from his satchel and placed it on the ground. The King of Winter called it forth, and he gazed upon it, until finally, he said, "A memory more suited to my dominion, yet I feel Summer's warmth upon it as well."

The Duke and Duchess both examined the memory as well, and each sat contemplating.

Finally, the Queen, shamed as she was, spoke her voice impassioned, "Tell me my young songbird," she said invoking one of his true names, "The cuts you made upon the mortals with my blade, what guided your hand? Summer or Winter?"

"I don't," he said, lowering his eyes to his liege, "know."

A deep voice broke into the court, and the three Knight's Errant drew their weapons in surprise. The Court of Fey could not be so easily disturbed.

"You are not welcome here," the King of Winter said.

The large wolf strode next to Tonnilark and sat on his haunches.

"The Queen," he said in a half bow, "has beckoned me. I witnessed the events that unfolded, and I bear witness now to Tonnilarks actions."

"No doubt caused Tonnilarks actions!" the Duke of Autumn decried.

The Grimmaz shot a glance at the Duke who shuttered.

The creature released a large breath, and the court was engulfed in fog. From the moment The Grimmaz met Tonnilark to the time of his capture was presented to the fey royals.

Once the time had passed, they returned to the present and contemplated Tonnilarks actions.

"Ha, wolf, I see that you did indeed trick this innocent fey into doing your bidding," the Duke protested.

The wolf let out a guttural growl, and the Duke was once again silenced. "No trick, only truth. I gave him the information he desired, no more, no less."

The King and Queen both nodded at the statement.

Then in a rare show, the Queen climbed down from her throne and strode to the King. They conferred for hours before the Queen finally took her seat.

With a flick of the Queen's wrist, a scroll appeared in each royal's hand.

The Prince of Tides, without emotion, spoke, "The deliberation is complete. Mark your findings, and as is our treaty, shall read the verdict without attribution."

The four scrolls floated to the large blue fey, and he plucked each from the air. Within moments he read the verdict and sentence, "Tonnilark, the Golden Rose, Knight Errant to the Summer Court, and Champion of the Queen is found guilty of drawing blood with a sacred weapon. It is hereby returned to the Queen, and maybe relinquished at her whim."

Tonnilark drew Winter's sadness upon his face as the emerald blade vanished from his side.

The Prince of Tides continued, "Tonnilark a fey of the Summer Court is stripped of his title, and no longer bears the banner of the Queen."

Tonnilark began to cry. The sword was a tool, nothing more, but the title was a piece of him. One of his true names. He no longer felt whole.

Finally, the Prince of Tides read the last of the sentence, "Tonnilark of the Summer Court is banished from the Summerlands until the moon no longer circles the Earth."

The last one hit like a hammer. All of his friends, his nest, and his home would be lost to him forever.

"Do I hear any objections?" the Prince of Tides asked.

"I declare that Tonnilark of the Summer Court may return once to gather his possessions and say his goodbyes," the Queen said.

The rest of the royals nodded in agreement, and the Prince took note.

"Very well, Tonnilark of the Summer Court, as is written, you may return once, and then, the sentence shall be carried out in full," he said formally, and then added, "The treaty has been fulfilled once more, may the sea and the land continue to live in harmony."

"In harmony," the Court responded.

#

Tonnilark wore Winter's mantle upon his heart. His chest was heavy with sadness, and his stomach was knotted. He said his goodbyes and gathered his things. On his way to Man-pupu-ner, he was stopped once again by the Queen.

"My sweet little songbird, where will you go?" she said butterflies flitting from her mouth.

He bowed his head, still proud to be of the Summer Court. He bore no anger towards his liege, only shame.

"I do not know my Queen," he replied.

She knelt down and embraced him, "I elevated you from a small songbird because you saw the joy in life. You didn't worry or care about the next meal, you only sang for the joy of it. Your voice was beautiful. I will never regret that day, my little Tonnilark."

"Thank you," Tonnilark responded, tears of joy welling in his eyes.

"Now I must elevate you further, for you have seen when the joy is taken from others, what must be done. I will miss you, my little songbird, but I am proud of you, my Black Rose of Summer," she said.

Tonnilark felt the power flow into him, as he was christened with a new true name.

She released the embrace and looked him in the eyes, "Be my weapon for those that would steal joy from another. Do it in my name."

For the first time, Tonnilark saw pain in his mistress's eyes, but only for a moment.

Slightly confused, Tonnilark cocked his head.

The Queen of the Summer Court held her hand over the ground. Root and stem flowed up taking rocks and crystals with it. Soon a long spear with the head of black crystal formed.

"Take this lance, it is yours until you betray its oath," she said handing the spear-like weapon to him.

Tonnilark stood amazed but eventually nodded.

"Now go, the Prince of the Shadowland awaits you," she said.

Tonnilark turned and left, new emotions, not of any court sprang into him.

He soon found himself at the mortal side Man-pupu-ner. A familiar wolf sat staring at him.

"The Prince of the Shadowlands?" Tonnilark asked?

"The Grimmaz to you. Use not my true name," The Grimmaz said.

Tonnilark only smiled, he would not be alone.

"It has been millennia since I have traveled with a companion, and I welcome it. So please forgive my outbursts, tiny Summer Morsel," The Grimmaz said.

Tonnilark laughed, "So what now winter wolf?"

The Grimmaz growled, but answered almost cheerfully, "Autumn is a coward and only lets things transition naturally, you and I will seek out the worst of humanity, and send them towards the shadow."

"Sounds fun," Tonnilark said smiling, "Let's go."

Without comment, the great wolf grabbed Tonnilark by the scruff of his neck and threw him on his back as he loped off towards another village.