The Fateless: Errata Read online

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Thanks for reading!

  The Fateless

  Errata

  Seri Anne Lynn

  Fae Rose Publishing

  For my daughter, Cheyennea, my mother Doris, my husband Eric, and my best friend Kael. Thank you for the faith you had in me to do this, thank you for the effort you’ve taken to help me on this journey and the motivation you’ve given me to see it to completion.

  Additionally, thank you to all the friends I’ve made along this writing journey. Thanks to my beta readers and colleagues who have helped me get this far, and a special thanks to Emé Savage, Elle Wolfson, and Luke Partridge, all wonderful authors. I Thank you for your feedback and support.

  And last but not least, thank you to all of you who are reading this book. I hope you enjoy it!

  Fairy Song.

  ~ By Louisa May Alcott

  The moonlight fades from flower and tree,

  And the stars dim one by one;

  The tale is told, the song is sung,

  And the Fairy feast is done.

  The night-wind rocks the sleeping flowers,

  And sings to them, soft and low.

  The early birds erelong will wake:

  ‘Tis time for the Elves to go.

  O’er the sleeping earth we silently pass,

  Unseen by mortal eye,

  And send sweet dreams, as we lightly float

  Through the quiet moonlit sky;--

  For the stars’ soft eyes alone may see,

  And the flowers alone may know,

  The feasts we hold, the tales we tell:

  So ‘tis time for the Elves to go.

  From bird, and blossom, and bee,

  We learn the lessons they teach;

  And seek, by kindly deeds, to win

  A loving friend in each.

  And though unseen on earth we dwell,

  Sweet voices whisper low,

  And gentle hearts most joyously greet

  The Elves where’er they go.

  When next we meet in the Fairy dell,

  May the silver moon’s soft light

  Shine then on faces gay as now,

  And Elfin hearts as light.

  Now spread each wing, for the eastern sky

  With sunlight soon will glow.

  The morning star shall light us home:

  Farewell! for the Elves must go.

  Chapter One

  Birthright

  “A

  bsolutely not!” Biscuit reacted with such surety that the tips of his pointy ears burned red. His dear wife Clover feared he might wear a path pacing the wooden floor of their little stone and briarwood cottage.

  “But Da...” Tatty shifted in the soft parlor chair.

  Still, he couldn’t hold back on objecting to his little Tatty Buttons going off to the Otherworld all by her lonesome. The thought of it made the ‘so-delicious-they-should-be-famous’ dandelion honey oatcakes that Clover made especially for him each morning flip-flop in his tiny belly.

  This is so unfair, after all it is her fourteenth naming cycle anniversary, and all the other pookas gave their kin access to the Otherworld keystone on this memorable day.

  In the Faerie world pookas receive their name during a momentous ceremony a year after they are born. Once taken to a collection site the first thing they pick up becomes their first formal name. For example, Clover picked the prettiest thing she saw, a fat green clover. Biscuit must have been hungry since he went for a very tempting biscuit.

  Tat, however, was an exception. The traditional naming rules didn’t apply, since she already had a name when found, or so the note Biscuit and Clover found on her claimed. And it was a beautiful name. A perfectly suited name for the precious little tawny golden-haired human. Tatyana.

  In keeping with tradition at her first ‘birthday’, or the anniversary of the day they found her, the ceremony commenced. Little Tatyana, or Tat for short, accompanied her foster parents to the local collection site. She chose a colorful selection of buttons. And everyone knows the last name is the dwelling from which one lived, so that is how she became ‘Tatyana Buttons Briarden of the Dorn of Knottagin in the Province of Northern Breah’.

  That day had been a happy one; today however, was not.

  Tatty is not pooka, there is no mistaking that. She easily towered over them by a good three pooka sized heads or so, making her appear to be the parent. Only the tiny wrinkled creases around the pooka’s eyes and mouth gave their true age away.

  It is exceedingly rare to see a human child in the Faerie Notherworld. Human children don’t really look like fae at all. Tat’s complexion is a nice, supple milky pink and her eyes as blue as a clear day’s sky. Pookas though, are altogether different. Their skin is so pale it is almost translucent, and their usually blue eyes glimmer like diamonds when the light strikes them just right. And there is no doubt their impish slim figures are a definite trait of the Fae as well.

  Pookas are tiny by human standards, perfect for getting in all the little crevices at collection sites, impeccable at finding that exact thingamabob that humans with their big gawky hands and arms threw away with little to no regard of its value. This is the Pookas’ job after all, given to them by the merciful Goddess Serendi, to collect and use the things humans lost or tossed away.

  Clover and Biscuit never cared if their foster daughter didn’t appear to fit in; they loved her just the same as if she’d been born to them. They raised her as pooka, so why was today any different? What reason did her da have to refuse her this sacred custom?

  Clover leaned near her husband, who plopped into his favorite chair. Rubbing his shoulders gently, she tried to calm him. “Biscuit, now let’s just stop and think for a moment. She’s our daughter, and it’s tradition after all.” She tried to be the voice of reason knowing he was so prone to rash decisions.

  The pouting from Tat and the pleading from Clover almost did Biscuit’s stubbornness in. The firm expression looked so out of place on his child-like face. He softened it for just a second. Then decided he must stand resolute, “No. There’s just no way in Shadderah I’ll let my little Tatty Buttons go to the Otherworld alone!”

  “But Da...” Tat slumped forward, making her look much younger than she is. “I know I’m not pooka, but all the other fae kin get to use their family’s keystone when they turn fourteen, and I’m fifteen now.” Tat fidgeted for a moment. “It’s just because I’m human and you don’t really trust humans. That’s it, isn’t it?” She bit back a tear eagerly trying to escape down the side of her angry reddened cheeks. Playing with a loose thread on her part emerald green part yellow and white polka dot tunic, Clover had so lovingly pieced together, she feared what they might say next.

  “Don’t be ridiculous Tatty,” Biscuit crossed his arms, “of course we trust you. You’re our daughter, pooka or not. But I am sorry, we still can’t give you the keystone. There’s just so much out there that you don’t understand, so much that can hurt you. Now sweet one, please try to understand. You can’t go and that’s the end of it.”

  “I’ve got it!” Clover piped up as if she’d solved a great mystery, “Tatty dear, what i
f Biscuit and I take you on the next collection run with us? We could all go together. We haven’t done that in such a long time...” she trailed off, remembering a thought she had stashed away years ago, “that would be so much fun, wouldn’t it?”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea either,” Biscuit sighed. “Don’t you remember what almost happened last time? We simply can’t risk it.”

  “What!” Tat stood up, “I was just a baby then. How can you hold that against me? Ba, tell him! You know I’m more responsible now.”

  Clover stepped towards Tat, wanting so much to take her in her arms and hold her like she did when she was just a wee one, knowing what she said next would be painful for Tat to hear. “Oh sweetness, you know Da means well, but he is right, accidents happen.”

  “Ba! Now you’re against me too?”

  “I’m not against you Tatty, and neither is Da. We just want to keep you safe.”

  Tat shifted her awkward gait, crossing her arms before changing into an angrier tone.

  “Safe? I see what’s really going on here. You just don’t want me to grow up and leave. You don’t really want me to go on a collection run. And you don’t want me to be like any other normal fae!”

  “But you’re not any other normal fae, pumpkin.” Biscuit choked out the words, “And that’s enough of this. You can’t have the keystone; you can’t go and that’s the end of this discussion.”

  “I just don’t get it Da! You say you trust me. You tell me I belong here with you and Ba, that deep down I’m pooka just like you, but then you treat me like... like I’m different,” she spat out the words like it was the first time she’d thought of such horrible things and it left a bitter taste in her mouth.

  “Well, you are different Tat. You’re not pooka,” he let out a deep sigh wishing he didn’t have to acknowledge what came next. “The thing is... well... you’re... Errata.”

  “Biscuit!” Clover covered her mouth as if she were the one who said something unfathomable and was trying to stuff it back in. She knew it was true, but they didn’t speak of it unless it was absolutely necessary.

  “Well, it’s time we all admit it. That’s why you can’t have a keystone Tat, and you can’t go back to the Otherworld. You’re Errata and it’s forbidden, and I will not lose you over something so silly as tradition.”

  Errata? Why was that word so familiar? She struggled to remember. Ah... Right, Errata, a human word… it meant something like… an error on a list of recorded errors, or was it to wander, err, or stray? She knew it was something like that. Bluntly put; an Errata is a mistake, and a big one. Being Errata meant there was a divine error made, and as a result you were unclaimed by one of the seven Gods or Goddesses of Fate.

  But why is that such a big deal? She tried to understand what it was they were making such a fuss over. What was it her Da told her so long ago? It went something like: ‘In both worlds… human or fae, or even fae kin, we are each marked on some part of our bodies upon birth by a seal. It’s an invisible seal except for those trained to see it. A seal set justly by the Gods that guide us to our predetermined lot in life. And if someone is Errata, it means they got overlooked and never received their seal.

  The memory clicked and it all made sense. The information came from a part of a history lesson Biscuit put a lot of emphasis in teaching her. She remembered the rest of his words then.

  ‘Without such a seal, you shouldn’t exist. But it did happen, on rare occasion, and that meant your life had no purpose, no plan, no path.

  This of course, throws off the balance of all things.

  And to make matters worse, an Errata can touch any rightly marked being of their own kind and it would also remove that being’s seal as well; causing even more Errata to exist. Even worse than that, if a human Errata removed another human’s seal, it would allow them to see the hidden world of the Fae and then all manner of things would become askew’.

  This hadn’t been a problem for Tat in quite a while. Not since a mishap when she was an infant on a routine collection with her new pooka parents. Taking her first steps, she tripped, landing near a passerby. It was then that they realized the implication of it all. They declared never again. It was just too risky.

  If such an occurrence took place, it would be comparable to starting a plague. They couldn’t allow any chance of that happening. If it did it would draw the attention of the Gods. And that would mean the eradication of their precious little Tatty Buttons.

  She was an odd thing, a human child growing up with fae. But all that knew her grew to love her and accepted her as one of them. And they would never forsake her. All the pookas in Briarden had vowed to never let the agents of the Gods know that an Errata lived among them.

  For the most part, she grew up happy with her fostered pooka life. Although, as years grew on, Tat yearned to know her own kind, and this day should have been her chance to do so. The time when she should by all birthright have access to go to the Otherworld from this point on, be it today or whenever she wanted.

  They might have brought me to this world, but it is still my birthright as fae kin, isn’t it? What right do they have to tell me differently?

  “How can you say that to me?! I hate you! I hate you both!” Tat stomped out the rounded side door of the cottage, slamming it behind her so loudly that for a moment Clover thought the whole place might fall in.

  “She hates us?” Clover’s voice broke as tears flooded her face.

  “You know she didn’t mean that love, just give her some space. She’ll come around.”

  But ‘coming around’ was far from Tat’s mind. The better option was more like getting as far away as possible. She ran as fast and as far as her fallible human body let her, until her chest ached and the air in her lungs felt as if it would explode.

  Dropping to the leaf covered ground she slumped against an ancient black and slick-bark Carpenella tree. Watching through the long thin tree branches she saw the sun setting in the distance over the Knottagin mountains that enclosed their little vale of Briarden. As the sun curtained the horizon signaling the end of the day, she felt it also meant the end for her hopes of seeing the Otherworld.

  Her birthday was nearly over.

  This place, it was the only place she knew – so why then did it feel so foreign to her? No one ever made her feel unwelcomed or implied that she was an outsider of any kind. This Errata thing couldn’t matter that much, could it? But it undeniably mattered; and mattered a great deal.

  All she could think of at this moment was that she was unloved and unwanted, but that couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t be. Biscuit and Clover are the best parents a girl could have. So why then did she tell them she hated them? She knew she didn’t truly hate them. Actually, she hated herself for saying that.

  She drew up her knees to her chest and dropped her head on them, clasping them as if she were hugging someone, but there was no one. No one to hug, or to hug her back.

  Mew....

  Startled at the tiny sound and pawing of a bit of black fur just at her ankle, Tatyana looked to see her pet puffball of a pooka-kitten, Tok. Tat stroked the v-shaped row of little red spikes sticking out of Tok’s head and the spiny comb that ran down the kitten’s back. Tok flipped her pointed red tail and flexed her black bat like wings in response. Tat relaxed; glad she wasn’t alone; her best friend was with her.

  “Oh Tok,” she exhaled deeply. “It’s my naming cycle anniversary. It’s been fifteen years since they found me at the collection site and brought me to the Notherworld. I wish they would’ve left me...” she began to cry. “Then I wouldn’t be this stupid Errata thing, I would just be human and like everyone else.” It wasn’t true and she knew it, but upset teenagers rarely dwell on facts.

  Tok perched on Tat’s knees. Tat trailed her fingers through the kitten’s long silky ebony coat. “Ba and Da... they never hid the truth from me at least,” she continued as if Tok understood every word she muttered. “They never softened it by lyin
g either. They found me on top of the collections heap,” she sobbed. “My real parents threw me away just like all the other junk humans make and don’t want anymore. They just put me there in the trash bin and left.”

  Tok stretched her head up, nose to nose with Tat’s and nuzzled her as if to say ‘there, there, it will be all right’.

  “It’s their fault!” Tat screamed as if the words screamed loudly would change the reality of it and Tok’s fur bristled. “Now I’m Errata and it’s all their fault. They did this to me. If they would’ve just left me. Well, you know what Tok?”

  Tok mewed as if to enunciate her perplexity.

  “I deserve to go back; I deserve to know my people. I will take my birthright. That’s right! It is my birthright. So, I will take it and I will go. I will get the keystone and show them I can do this!”

  Not having the courage to face them, Tat waited until it was well beyond dark and long past their usual bedtime before deciding to go back to the cottage.

  Tiptoeing through the parlor and down the hall, every infinitesimal thing made her heart skip a beat. She froze at every sound, from the wind blowing the little glass bells of the wind charm that hung on the porch, to the ridiculously loud harshness of Biscuit’s snoring. How Clover slept through that racket was anyone’s guess. Freezing in place even from hearing her own heartbeat, which to her was louder than Biscuit’s snoring, she began to panic.

  She slipped past their room as if she were a mouse avoiding the house cat. When she realized she was in the clear, she silently darted into her room. She didn’t dare flip the shutter up on the bioluminaire. Moonlight amplified by the rounded bubbled glass window illuminated the room with an eerie glow, but it would have to suffice.

  Opening her painstakingly carved wooden clothing cabinet, she paused a moment to remember how proud Biscuit was when he presented it to her on her tenth naming cycle anniversary. She felt so grownup back then. She shook the memory out of her mind before she reconsidered this whole thing.