《Foxglove》


 Chapter 1

    It was the dead of night when Jet¡¯s alarm woke him up, its vibrations shaking him into wakefulness as his pillow writhed beneath his head. Blearily fumbling under the fluffy mass, he mumbled curses and snares as it bounced out of his grasp. The cursed thing, created to awaken him with movement rather than noise, consisted of various moving parts that made it a challenge to grab and stop. Of course, this made it even more effective as an alarm, since he had to struggle with it for several moments before he could disengage it. He¡¯d purposefully chosen such a design so he wouldn¡¯t have to worry about waking his mother. She wouldn¡¯t disapprove of his escapades, however he didn¡¯t want to cause her any undue trouble. If anyone saw him sneaking out she would, inevitably, be the one fielded the complaints and judgment for it.


    Jet finally caught the cursed thing, letting loose a soft hiss of pain as its moving parts pinched the delicate web of skin between his thumb and forefinger. He set it on his nightstand, resisting the urge to slam it down in frustration and thereby render his recent struggles moot. He slept fully clothed on nights he planned his escapades, having only to retrieve his boots from where they rested beside his pack by the door. Stooping to pull on his boots, he shouldered one of the straps to the bag before standing. He opened the door and crept to the entryway of their home, peering suspiciously in the direction of the kitchen in case his mother had decided to have a midnight snack.


    The tunnels outside their apartments were clear, as they should be at this time of night. While someone was up at all hours, his neighborhood was mostly populated by the gnomes who worked during the ¡®day¡¯. If anyone found it odd they followed a day and night cycle while living underground, they never mentioned it where he could hear. Regardless, he was able to walk unmolested through silent halls of paneled stone walls and paved floors brightly lit, despite the hour and their subterranean nature, by faerie lights set into the wall every few feet. If he desperately needed to avoid notice he could have used access tunnels and headed to the outskirts of the burrow. However those tunnels, hardly used and often still under development, were unnerving to him, lit as they were by sputtering torches and dimly luminescent mushrooms rather than the magical faerie lights he was used to. With any luck, he¡¯d never have to tread those paths, especially not in the dead of night. Even knowing the only souls to ever wander those tunnels were his fellow gnomes did nothing to assuage his fear of those dark corners.


    Shaking off the chill brought about by the fear his fanciful imaginings created in him, he noticed the floor beneath his feet had begun to take on a slight incline. Jet slowed his pace as he approached what he recognized as the final corner before on of the many mouths of the warren. This was a smaller outlet, rarely used and, if he was right, then Chalcedony would be the guard on duty tonight. Jet peeked the corner slowly, and was rewarded almost immediately with the sight of Chalcedony¡¯s slouched form. Chalcedony was old, fat, and lazy, often taking this out of the way post so he could sleep the night away. Bushy white eyebrows hid his eyes, however given how his chin was tucked into his chest and the rasping, gurgling breaths that sounded out as his chest lurched and heaved, it was safe to say the old gnome was deep into his nap.


    ¡°Sleep tight, Chalcy.¡± Jet whispered as he crept by, the phrase almost a ritual for him at this point. His footsteps fell quieter on the ground as the stone floor gave way to soft dirt near the mouth of the warren, and he could hear the faint rattle of leaves far above as the lazy breeze danced between them. He took a deep breath as he emerged into the night, savoring the first fresh air he¡¯d had in days. Though it was the middle of the night in the heart of the forest, the dark did little to hinder Jet¡¯s eyes. Gnomes were born to toil in the dark beneath the earth, after all, and the faint light of the moon and stars through the canopy above was more than enough for him to see by. A controlled burn, ordered by the council, had cleared out much of the undergrowth around the warren a short time ago which improved visibility immensely. It was doubly lucky for him, since the first part of his journey wouldn¡¯t be bogged down as he hacked and tore his way through thick undergrowth which was quite the chore for Jet who stood around a foot tall, an average height for a gnome.


    Jet forged ahead across the clearing and entered the tree line through a game trail, exactly where it had been described to him. He would occasionally stray from the path when he saw animal tracks and plants, though he was always quick to return to it lest he find himself lost in the woods. Normally he¡¯d thoroughly gather whatever samples and specimens he could get his hands on, but he had a destination in mind tonight and couldn¡¯t afford to waste time dallying in areas he could come visit again in the morning. After all, a few days past a traveling myconid trader had informed him of a nearby hotbed of mushrooms and fungus that the pallid, fleshy merchant stopped at to camp when he came to trade with the burrow. It had claimed the vale was bursting with various species, some of which Jet hoped would be unknown to him. He¡¯s already run every test and combination he could think of for the limited reagents and ingredients he could find back in the warren and its immediate vicinity. He was dying for novel material to work with, his curiosity being the most common reason for his escapades into the Wylde at night.


    An image flashed through his mind of his mother waking to find him gone and the worry he¡¯d cause her, the phantom guilt momentarily overriding his nerves. Another part of him was frustrated by what he worried was a childish reliance on his mother. Well into his second century of life, Jet was an adult by the standards of his people. He still lived with his mother partly out of concern, her fragile heart never fully recovering after his father¡¯s disappearance. His absence had left both of them to depend on the other, though despite her fears she never stopped him from taking risks like leaving the warren.


    She would probably even encourage it. He thought with a rueful laugh.


    No, Jet knew that the guilt he felt stemmed from how their community would react to his behavior. Older gnomes were, by their very nature, opposed to risks and change. Despite being tinkerers and inventors down to the last gnome, they believed progress and change had to come slowly, with utmost care and caution. As stolid and firm as the stones they sprouted from, they frowned upon wanton innovation and reckless curiosity, claiming it put the whole warren in danger. Not that any of them would be so forward as to stop Jet themselves. Instead the matrons and elders would tut and frown when they saw him and his mother in public. They¡¯d make backhanded remarks and post concerned notes on their door, corner them in pointed conversations about his peers -who had grown up to be proper citizens- contributing to the warren without causing trouble. His mother would never let it show, but it almost certainly wore on her.


    His worries, which had settled into a malaise that hung over him like a shroud over the next hour of walking, were overwhelmed by the rising tide of curiosity and wonder as he neared his destination. Dozens of small mushrooms up the trees in small step-like shapes, the largest of them big enough for Jet to believe he could climb them all the way to the treetops hidden in the darkness above. Glowing lichen draped like strings from the branches above in iridescent green tresses, glittering fireflies weaving between them in tight little dances, while stubby patches of mushrooms in various shapes and sizes sprouted amongst the dark hollows nestled in the roots of trees. Jet couldn¡¯t help but gaze in wonder as a curious firefly descended to hover near him, it in turn regarding this strange new observer with interest.


    I wonder if I could catch one. Jet thought, nibbling at his bottom lip as he considered the idea.


    He was considering the feasibility of some sort of net launcher when the sparkfly flitted away. At first he thought it had sensed his ill intent, but a distant basso rumbling seemed the more likely culprit. His curiosity pushed him towards the source of the noise even as part of him wanted to wait and see if he could lure a sparkfly into his specimen jar. Scuttling forward, he pushed his past clumps of tall grass and ferns until the undergrowth parted to reveal the source of the disturbance. Jet nearly tripped as he saw them, two giants standing in a clearing with their heads together, talking. He tilted his head back to take them in, his eyes widening while his pupils pushed his inky black irises into thin bands, their subterranean nature allowing him to pierce the murky darkness of a forest at night to analyze the pair in great detail.


    They were facing him, though in their deep deliberation and the black of night they failed to notice his presence, allowing him to see their features clearly. Rounded ears, coupled with their sheer size marked them as humans even if you disregarded how obviously uncomfortable they were in the Wylde. Without taking his eyes off of them Jet pulled his notebook from his satchel and jotted down what he saw, intending to amend some of the inaccuracies on record in the council libraries. Though these were the first humans Jet had ever had the fortune of seeing, Jet was -if he were to be completely honest with himself- slightly disappointed. They looked altogether too much like overly large, stretched out gnomes. The shorter of the two had tanned, leathery skin and pudgy features. His brow was slightly more prominent than his friend¡¯s, casting shadows over beady eyes perched sullenly atop a nose that looked as though it had been broken several times.


    His companion was only slightly taller and had a sickly look to him, his flesh hanging loosely from his bones. Dark circles framed his eyes and accentuated his otherwise pallid features. He had a hawkish nose and a wide mouth with thin lips. He hunched slightly as he spoke with his partner, as though he was cowering before the shorter tubby man. Both of them wore drab, coarse clothing, composed of more patches than original cloth. Jet was unsure of human standards, but as gnomes the two would be very unattractive.


    Jet decided associating with humans was perhaps too adventurous an activity for tonight. As he began backing away from the humans, he saw the shorter one grab a mushroom off of the ground, the mushroom in question freezing Jet in his tracks. With its rolling frilled cap a deep blue interspersed with white spots, it was known as a Night Sky mushroom and was easily one of the most lethal you could find in the Wylde. The foolish beast was lifting it to his mouth, and without thinking Jet began to cry out a warning. Both humans froze and snapped their eyes to him, pinning Jet in place with their gaze and leaving him squirming in discomfort. Part of him thought to run, however the pair closed the distance with long strides he couldn¡¯t hope to match. He hoped the humans would be kind to him, though a thought popped into his head as the pair loomed over him and he couldn¡¯t help but release a desperate little giggle.


    Do we even speak the same language?


    ***


    Thom had been having a rough day so far, a day that had been preceded by a restless night of vivid and uncomfortable dreams. It was almost a relief when he was awoken in the small hours of the morning by Gregor. His, quite literally, partner in crime had pulled him from bed with the promise of a job from the Merchant. The promise of their typical reward was enough to entice him out of his bed even as his body protested, wracked as it was with shivers and cold sweats despite the balmy air of their coastal city. If anything, fear of their patron made his shivering worse, and turned his stomach with queasiness born of nerves. The pair of them slipped through Westgate as the sun began to crest the horizon under the disinterested gaze of the sole guard posted there. As small and out of the way as the gate was, it saw little traffic even during the hustle and bustle of midday, and its remote, unimportant nature meant it was normally assigned as a punishment for delinquent, lazy guards, or as a rest stop for those past their prime. This typically meant that the guards there were usually unlikely to notice or care about who in particular passed through their post. Their lack of diligence was all the better as far as Thom and Gregor were concerned.


    It was only once they were certain the guards at the gate were no longer able to see them, Gregor opened his rucksack and pulled out a small paper package. Hands shaking, he unwrapped it to reveal the down payment the Merchant had provided them for this job. They split it and took it there, hiding poorly in the shadows of a lone tree while honest and hardworking farmers toiled and stared at them from the corners of narrowed eyes. Neither Thom or Gregor particularly cared to notice these gazes. On the contrary, as soon as his dose hit him Thom lost himself in ecstasy. It was no exaggeration to say he didn¡¯t remember the next several hours of their trek.


    So fully did he fall into his vice¡¯s embrace that, without Gregor¡¯s firmer mind and the well maintained, easy to follow nature of the road, they wouldn¡¯t have gotten anywhere at all. Finally coming back to reality, he was displeased to find himself in the muggy mid-afternoon heat, the stagnant air almost immediately making him feel faint. His body vocalized the complaints he¡¯d ignored in his bliss, his stomach growling sullenly about missing both breakfast and lunch. Dinner the night before hadn¡¯t been much either, for there was little he could buy with promises. He¡¯d spent the rest of his money on Dust days prior. He dared not utter any of this aloud though, as Gregor had little patience for complaints and would not want to return to reality only to hear Thom¡¯s muttered dissatisfaction.


    Blinking blearily as he twisted his head about to release some of the stress in his neck, Thomas somewhat shocked to see that they were nearing their destination. He knew this because a densely impassible forest loomed in the periphery of his vision. He endeavored to keep it there, refusing to regard the woods directly until he absolutely had to, just like he did every time they came here. Thom thought he could hardly be blamed for his discomfort seeing as the Wylde was magic, old magic, and absolutely everyone knew it. His mother had told him many tales featuring this place, just as her parents had told her, and their parents before them. Generations of Midburg citizens had learned to respect and fear the Wylde. Fairy tales and horror stories, this forest housed them and everything in between.


    It certainly looked like a forest of dreams and nightmares. The king¡¯s rangers tried to make sure the underbrush and new saplings didn¡¯t grow too close to the road, but their efforts stopped at a point probably sixty paces from the hard-packed earth of the highway. The border where their care and toil ended was clear cut, a dense wall of vegetation shadowed by a thick canopy and crawling with all sorts of colorful creatures that could be seen flitting from branch to branch or scurrying across the loamy soil. Thom could hear the cries of strange birds and the rustling of animals moving to and fro, fear quickly reasserting itself in his heart as the last dregs of his previous euphoria slipped away. It compounded the weakness he felt in his knees as well as the lightheadedness that had plagued him since he sobered up.


    This close to the Wylde, stone markers flanked the highway on the left-hand side. Colloquially known as wardstones, they were thought to mark the boundary of the forest¡¯s territory. They meant nothing to Thom, though Gregor took an interest in how many they passed, counting them softly under his breath. On the right were open pastures and fields, dotted every now and again with the homes of farmers. In this distance a vague backdrop of buildings, the sound of a church bell tolling carrying softly on the breeze. The nearness of civilization made the forest seem all the more alien to Thom. Though he fought down the rising tide of fear that churned in his stomach he couldn¡¯t help but notice as his breaths came faster and his palms grew clammy with sweat. Gregor spoke, breaking the silence and startling him.


    ¡°Alright, this is the thirtieth stone since we hit the fork. The Merchant said we should head straight in from here.¡± Gregor said, grinning as he saw Thom jump in fright at the sound of his voice.


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    ¡°Right here? But there¡¯s no path or nothing. It¡¯s no different from any other spot in this blasted forest.¡± Thom said, struggling to keep the whine he felt bubbling up in his stomach from being heard.


    ¡°I hear ya, I do, but this is where he told us to go. Into the treeline, and then eight hundred paces straight and we should find the spot.¡± Gregor replied, fishing about in his pack


    After a few moments of rooting about Gregor¡¯s face lit up as he seemed to seize upon something and he pulled his hand out. Cupped in his palm was an old bronze disc, almost like the fancy watches gracing the windows of the shops in the Inner Quarter. The front face of the disc, which would lift open when in use, had an etching of a ship on it though it was nearly worn away by time and use. Thom had seen this old heirloom of Gregor¡¯s several times and knew the ship etched into the disc had several rows of oars and triangular sails, a look decidedly foreign to Thom even with all his familiarity with the docks. Gregor claimed it was a family heirloom from generations back. Thom had little reason to disbelieve him and even if he had doubts he was sure to keep them to himself. The portly man was extremely defensive of it, and Thom remembered Gregor growing red in the face and violent when he had suggested selling the antique to tide them over after miserable days of sobriety. Gregor found the piece important enough to resist the call of the Merchant¡¯s wares, his strident opposition to the idea of pawning it speaking volumes to Thom about how important it was to him


    ¡°Good, you remembered the compass.¡± Thom said, mostly to break the silence.


    ¡°Never leave home without it.¡± Gregor replied distractedly as he opened the device.


    Thom didn¡¯t quite understand how to use the thing, however Gregor checked their heading quickly, nodding in satisfaction as they departed from the wardstones. As they got to the treeline, Gregor reached for his sheathe where it hung at his hip, pulling free his knife, a weathered thing that had seen better days. Despite its rusty spots and nicked blade, Gregor managed to score a tree with it, leaving a deep mark in the wood. Satisfied, Gregor moved on for several paces before doing it again. Between the blazes he left and his compass, Thom was becoming more confident that they would be able to find their way back out again.


    They continued like this for a while, carefully stepping over or around underbrush and roots. Occasionally they would have to circle around trees or other such obstacles, however Gregor made sure they always returned to the path. When the Merchant said something, he meant it and if he said straight into the forest, then he did mean straight into it, potential obstacles be damned. The pair of them were quiet aside from Thom¡¯s occasional nervous outburst and the cursory grunt in reply given by Gregor. Listening to the hoots and calls of the forest, Thom was frightened by how few he recognized. He wondered if perhaps there was some sort of bogeyman out there mimicking those sounds like his mother used to tell him when he was young. Be good, she¡¯d say, because naughty boys get taken by the goblin king who bakes them into savory meat pies! Then she¡¯d growl and raise her hands over her head like she was a foul goblin who¡¯d cook him into a pie herself. Thom¡¯s wistful smile at the memory faded fast as he realized he had not been a particularly good boy recently.


    After a nerve wracking hour, Thom and Gregor finally emerged from the undergrowth into a small clearing. It had taken far longer than they had expected, though in retrospect neither of them were outdoorsmen or in particularly good shape, so perhaps this should have been expected. The afternoon sun was already starting to get low and it was likely they¡¯d have to camp out in the forest for the night. This wouldn¡¯t be the first time they¡¯d had to do something like this while working for the Merchant, though Thom hated it all the same. Grumbling under his breath, Thom pulled out the canvas sheet they would use for shelter tonight and got to work setting up their tent while Gregor sat on an old log, taking long pulls from his waterskin. The portly man was breathing heavily and looked to be in a mood, a not uncommon frame of mind for Gregor after manual labor or exercise. Thom made sure to keep any complaints to himself though he¡¯d have appreciated some help.


    He was done with the tent in short order and set about putting together a campfire. They were fortunate the clearing had plenty of fuel and he was able to get a nice blaze going. As soon as he got the fire going Gregor pushed him aside and prepared to cook dinner. In the past Thom would have been perturbed by this treatment, but years of exposure to Gregor¡¯s poor temper and worse manners had inured him to this sort of treatment. Perhaps his last meal being a distant memory and the promise of food was enough to mollify him. Gregor boiled a pot of beans he had brought, of which he got the lion¡¯s share. They ate silently, Gregor¡¯s general demeanor coalescing into a foul aura as he distractedly chewed on the rather bland beans.


    ¡°Worrying about Stephen?¡± Thom guessed. He was rewarded with a look of surprise from Gregor, who clearly wasn¡¯t aware of just how much he let his emotions show.


    ¡°Is it that obvious?¡± Gregor said gruffly. ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t like leaving the boy alone like this. Who knows what trouble the runt¡¯ll get into.¡±


    ¡°Then we should probably get what we can for the merchant so we can get you back to him as fast as possible.¡± Thom said with a small grin. The faster they get back the better, as far as Thom was concerned.


    Gregor nodded and pulled his rucksack to him, opening it up and pulling out several items. A small pile of thread, pins, gears and other such odds and ends quickly formed on the ground next to him. Thom had always marveled at how much Gregor could stow away in his pack and tonight was no exception. Once he was satisfied he had everything they needed, Gregor gathered them up in his hands and began moving around the glade with Thom in tow. Together they assembled the various mechanical pieces, creating snares in the mushroom patches, and threaded the outside of the glade with tripwires attached to a variety of traps. Towards the end they were working by the dim light of their camp fire. The boughs above them ate up all the moonlight, and outside the small circle of light put out by their torch was an inky impenetrable blackness.


    They were working on their last trap of the night, which was proving to be more difficult than the rest. Due to long hours at work with tiny parts, their fingers were raw and tired. Their eyes were strained and weak from attempting to focus under flickering light, and Thom¡¯s legs were numb from the knee down since he¡¯d been crouching for so long. Gregor was red-faced and seething with frustration when he finally snapped.


    ¡°Damn it, would you get me a light? I can¡¯t see the string!¡± He snarled.


    ¡°Can¡¯t we just call it for the night? We¡¯ve set all the other traps, I doubt we need this one.¡±


    ¡°Just get me a blasted torch.¡±


    Of course this was the moment the campfire decided to go out, long neglected and deprived of fuel as they distractedly tinkered with their traps. It took their eyes time to adjust to the darkness, and Thom fully expected to see Gregor¡¯s grim, scowling countenance emerge from the inky blackness as his eyes adjusted. To his amazement the shadows continued to recede even further, revealing his foul tempered friend much as the camp fire had, if not better. Looking up, he was amazed to see some sort of plant structured like ropes, hanging from the trees like rigging and glowing with a ghostly light.


    ¡°They¡¯re glowing! Did our firelight drown it out?¡± Thom said excitedly.


    Gregor stifled a harsh rebuttal, twisted face softening in wonder as even he was taken in by the sight revealed before them. The luminescent growths brightened further, almost as though they were emboldened by their attentions. The enchanting material grew up the trunks on some trees, but grew far more plentifully in the branches, developing into long strands draped across the boughs above them. Before their very eyes small glowing lights began to fade into existence, flitting lazily about the glowing tresses. Thom was about to comment on the beauty of this strange dance when he noticed Gregor wasn¡¯t even paying attention, instead crawling forward on unsteady knees. Uncertain about what he was looking at, Thom shuffled up to him catching up to Gregor as he began pawing at the dirt in front of him. After several seconds of work he pulled up a few small mushrooms. The colors were muted and dim in the poor lighting, but they had milky white stalks with dark caps. The caps were further speckled with white spots, which called to mind images of clouds against the oncoming night sky to Thom¡¯s mind.So mesmerizing was the sight, Thom was startled when Gregor spoke.


    ¡°I think this might tide us over for a bit, Thom.¡± Gregor said with a soft smile even as his eyes burned with a manic delight.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Thom¡¯s voice quavered, as he had an idea of what Gregor was hinting at. There was only one thing capable of getting either of them this excited, after all.


    ¡°You ever heard of mushrooms that give you vision before? My father mentioned them a lot when he was talking about my ancestors. They¡¯d use these to speak with spirits and local gods.¡±


    Thom wet his lips with his tongue and paused for a moment before saying, ¡°No, I¡¯ve never heard of mushrooms like that. Are you sure these are the right ones? ¡®Cause I really don¡¯t think we should be eating random fungus we find in the forest.¡±


    Gregor scoffed at him and was about to toss the little mushroom back when they heard a small voice shouting. They both snapped around to see what looked like a miniature humanoid emerging from the brush at the rear of the clearing. It looked terribly frightened, shaking and quivering under their gazes. At least that''s how it seemed to Thom since, aside from the shock of white hair crowning the diminutive creature¡¯s form, it was dark as shadow. Thom met Gregor¡¯s eyes, and saw his slight nod. Thom nodded in return and together they began to approach the creature. Thom did his best to keep his face placid and calm, with his hands out low to look as harmless as possible. Despite this his heart was pounding in anticipation.


    ¡°Hey little guy. Was that you yelling?¡± Gregor¡¯s voice was sickly sweet, and anyone who knew the man personally would be disturbed by it. Nevertheless Thom hoped the falsetto voice would have a calming effect. To both of their surprise, the creatures answered.


    ¡°The mushroom you were about to eat was poisonous. It almost certainly would have killed you.¡± It responded meekly. Thom shot Gregor a fiery look of triumph, which was quickly quelled as Gregor responded with a warning glare.


    ¡°It¡¯s a good thing you were here then! I thought it was a mushroom my father had mentioned before.¡± Gregor replied. ¡°He used to say my ancestors would eat it and speak with the spirits. I always wanted to try it out.¡± Thom noticed the little sprite seemed to calm upon seeing Gregor¡¯s grin, though to Thom it looked like the grin a shark would give a fish.


    ¡°The only spirits you¡¯d be speaking to with that mushroom would be in the afterlife.¡± The creature said dryly. Its eyes, dark spheres that glimmered as they caught every scant bit of light, appeared mirthful. ¡°Although I would be very interested in collecting a sample of the mushroom, if you don¡¯t mind? The Night Sky is a rare mushroom and I haven¡¯t had a chance to do many tests with it. Would you mind terribly if I took it off your hands?¡±


    Thom and Gregor looked askance at each other. Sample? Tests? What the devil is this little thing talking about?


    ***


    ¡°No, I don''t mind. I¡¯ll just set it here.¡± The shorter human placed the mushroom a full arm¡¯s length in front of him, then backed off to allow Jet to approach. The taller of the two seemed to take the other¡¯s lead and fell back with him. Jet approached the mushroom slowly. While he felt he should be cautious, the two humans seemed just as surprised as he was about the situation, smiling nervously as they looked to each other for reassurance. Jet understood this was probably their first time speaking to a gnome, however he was emboldened when they agreed to give him the Night Sky. It was really quite rare, and yet they gave it up without any fuss or request for compensation.


    Perhaps this is to my advantage, Jet thought, they seemed to be inclined to communicate. If so, maybe I can convince them to assist me in gathering samples!


    Jet mulled over this thought as he swung his backpack around in front of himself and began pulling sample containers out. He took his knife and whittled off long, thin chunks of the mushroom and inserted them in the glass phials he had brought along. Once he was satisfied he had enough to at least begin his experiments, he capped off his sample containers and wrote a quick label on them before tucking them inside his backpack. Task completed, he looked up at the humans.


    ¡°Thank you for your help! My name is Jet. It is a pleasure to meet you.¡± He smiled warmly. ¡°I¡¯ve never met humans before. I must say, the stories don¡¯t really explain how tall you are!¡¯


    ¡°Ah, my name is Gregor and my friend here is Thom.¡±


    Jet¡¯s gaze hopped between the two humans. His trepidation was fading quickly as they spoke to each other, aided in its passing by the opportunity he sensed looming over him. He pressed his palm down on top of his own head, then moved it in a straight line into the shorter human¡¯s leg. It looked as though he only came halfway up the calf on humans. While they weren¡¯t as gigantic as the stories said, they would do.


    ¡°Say,¡± he said. ¡°Do you think you would be able to help me out?¡±


    ¡°Help you out¡­ how?¡± The taller of the two, Thom, said nervously


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s nothing dangerous. I just want to get some samples of the plate fungus growing on the trees there, like little ledges. You see them? And I¡¯d like to get some glowing lichen if you don¡¯t mind assisting me?¡± Jet¡¯s excitement was mounting, and he knew he couldn¡¯t hide it well. This was what made him such an adventurous, and therefore ill-regarded, gnome. As soon as he saw an opportunity to sate his curiosity, he had to take it. The two humans looked at each other in surprise, and seemed to communicate with their eyes for a few moments before nodding in agreement.


    ¡°Yeah, it shouldn''t be a problem. Happy to help out even. My friend here will lift you up since he¡¯s a bit taller than me if that¡¯s okay?¡±


    Jet nodded and approached Thom. His heart rose into his throat as the giant picked him up, its huge hands fully encompassing his waist and legs. Once he was firmly in grip and level with Thom¡¯s torso, Thom brought him over to the tree. He lifted Jet up to a point he was able to carve off a few pieces of the plate-like fungus growing out of the tree in front of him. However the lichen was out of reach.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Thom do you think you could get me a little-¡± His request was cut off as he was whipped through the air, mouth clicking shut. Before he could think he was slammed, hard, into something metal. It cracked against his skull violently, and left him dazed. By the time he was able to clear his vision, he heard the creaking of old metal and a clang as it came to a stop. Sitting up, Jet could see he was in some sort of cage which was being locked before his very eyes.


    ¡°W-what¡¯re you doing?¡± His voice sounded shrill to his own ears. It was embarrassing, but neither human paid him any mind. Instead they were dancing about like loons, mad grins upon their faces, only stopping to light a torch and inspect Jet. Under their wide eyes Jet found it difficult to speak again.


    ¡°See? I told you the Merchant is never wrong!¡± Gregor shouted. Sweat was forming on his forehead and a feverish look had come into his eyes.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be able to get another hit off of him yet!¡± Thom¡¯s manic glee was undercut with desperation. In the new lighting Jet could see the sunken cheeks and darkened eyes of the humans. They reeked of some sickly sweet smell, and neither seemed to be entirely sane.


    ¡°Let me go! I don¡¯t know what you think you are doing, but I will not forget this insult!¡± Jet tried to sound forceful. His small voice felt inadequate before the giant¡¯s gales of laughter.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so little one. You¡¯re coming with us. You¡¯re our big score for this expedition.¡± Gregor leered at him through the bars of the cage. ¡°Thom, let¡¯s pack this one up and get ready for bed. We might get lucky and catch another in the traps tonight, but they¡¯re certainly going to stay away if we have this torch burning.¡±


    Thom snuffed the torch they had lit as Gregor held Jet¡¯s cage in one hand, opening his knapsack and pushing aside various odds and ends to make room for him. Finally satisfied, the pudgy giant placed the cage inside. After swaddling it with spare clothing, Gregor seemed confident the cage and its denizen were secure.


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll leave the top open so you can get air, but you best be quiet tonight.¡± He said in a vaguely menacing tone.


    ¡°What do you want from me?¡± Jet said fearfully, ¡°Let me go, please.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want anything from you lad, it¡¯s the Merchant who wants you.¡± Gregor laughed ominously as he walked away. Jet was left with a cold lump of dread in his stomach as he laid on his side trying to think of a way out of this. Minutes turned to hours, and the humans settled into sleep. They worried the light of the fire would drive other potential victims away, but Jet thought the raucous snoring was more likely to ward off any would-be prisoners. The cold metal of the cage wicked away his warmth and it was many hours before sleep would come to silence his fears.

 Chapter 2

    Tourmaline was not, by most standards, an important part of the gnome burrow. She knew many people would tell her differently, especially her father who was technically mentoring her through her apprenticeship, but in her mind the gnome responsible for ¡°moving debris and dirt out of the tunnel¡± was not critical to the burrow¡¯s continued function. Even when she finally learned enough to assist in finishing the walls and floors of the tunnels of their home, there would always be someone capable of doing her job, taking her place. She thought it only natural, then, that she saw far more value in her hobbies than in her work. Much to her father¡¯s dismay, no amount of badgering or griping could convince her otherwise, leaving the old gnome no option but to gnash his teeth and grumble when she started talking about alchemy.


    It was only thanks to her mother she got away with it at all, really. Where her father would yell and lecture, her mother just tutted and fluttered her fingers as if to say she would handle her husband, so Tourmaline should just go and do what she wanted to. In the kitchen, packing a lunch for herself and Jet so they could discuss his late night expedition and review the materials he acquired, she suspected another argument was forthcoming if her father caught her before she left. She would have liked to go with Jet, however if her father caught her sneaking outside the burrow at night he¡¯d lock her in her room for the next decade. She was barely allowed to leave the burrow during the day and she knew even that much worried her parents to death.


    Humming to herself, Tourmaline grabbed all the necessary makings for sandwiches, as well as some of the roast leftover from last night¡¯s meal. She secured her food in her basket, wrapped in cloth or crammed into jars as needed, before realizing she¡¯d forgotten something critically important. Cheese. Grabbing a decently sized wedge from her family¡¯s, quite extravagant, stockpile, she turned back to her picnic basket only to discover her mother standing directly behind her.


    Tourmaline let out a yelp and threw the cheese at her mother in shock. Thankfully Beryl fully expected her reaction, even seeming to enjoy it as her arm snapped out and caught the cheese mid-air, before effortlessly tossing it into Tourmaline¡¯s basket.


    ¡°What do you think yer doing, sneaking up on me like that!¡± Tourmaline tried to sound put off, but couldn¡¯t help but smile indulgently at her mother.


    ¡°I was thinking my little girl was up to some mischief again and I ought to make sure she was properly provisioned for it.¡± Beryl replied, her aquamarine eyes sparkling. She reached past Tourmaline to grab a jar of jam and bread before continuing. ¡°I¡¯m going to have to put up with your father¡¯s grumbling all day today, aren¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Mom, but I do appreciate your noble sacrifice in the name of science and progress.¡± Tourmaline said, not looking the least bit apologetic as she moved aside to allow her mother access to the counter where Beryl began to slather bread with the sweet red slime. Tourmaline grimaced as she watched. She couldn¡¯t stand the overly sugary stuff herself.


    ¡°The things I do for you lovebirds.¡± Beryl said with a flick of her butter knife, sending a streak of strawberry jam across Tourmaline¡¯s cheek, who attempted to both wipe herself clean and protest her mother¡¯s statement at the same time.


    ¡°It¡¯s not at all like that Mom! Jet and I are just two alchemists on the cutting edge of science! We¡¯re comrades more than anything.¡± She finished her objections about the same time she got the last of the jam off of her face. Tourmaline scowled, wetting a kitchen towel down for one last wipe to make sure she was spotless. She couldn¡¯t stand the stickiness of dried sweets, and she¡¯d be out and about for a while today. Her mother just disbelievingly sighed at her.


    ¡°Ah yes, science. It makes all of you young folk act up. Why, I heard Cinnabar and Pyrite snuck into the back tunnels to do some science together the other week. Mayhaps, I think, of the biological kind¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not how it is, not in the least!¡± Tourmaline repeated with a squeak as her mother sauntered away, tittering. Tourmaline felt her face warm and flush red, prompting her to take a moment and breath. Her mother¡¯s well targeted teasing aside, Tourmaline knew she had it easy. Her friends -other than Jet, that is- were already talking about the pressure to find a partner and settle down, to become a true part of the community. While some of them had already started to court each other, many were hesitant, especially considering the fact they¡¯d grown up knowing every other gnome their age in the warren. They knew all the dramas and all the history in such a small community, which meant a lot of gnomes waited until the Grand Moot and tried to find potential romantic interests there. Tourmaline didn¡¯t find either camp appealing. She wasn¡¯t sure if she ever wanted to settle down. She couldn¡¯t imagine herself with any of the gnomes she knew, and betting on a complete stranger didn¡¯t seem much better. As far as Tourmaline could tell, if she was going to marry it was a ways off yet.


    With so many obstacles to a successful romantic life, Tourmaline was quietly happy her parents chose to take issue with her pursuit of alchemy rather than their lack of a grandchild. They were content to let her approach it at her own rate, though she knew her mother would haunt her if she wound up an old biddy alone in her dusty old quarters. Laughing softly to herself, she picked up her basket and left the kitchen. From the kitchen door to the front entrance of the house was only a few paces and Tourmaline hoped with her mother distracting him, her father wouldn¡¯t even notice until she was long gone. Treading as softly as she could down the entryway, she was only a pace or two from the door when her father¡¯s voice rang out.


    ¡°If you think your mother can distract me with jam and bread, you¡¯ve got another thing coming, little miss!¡± He roared. Tourmaline¡¯s shoulders slumped and she turned to face him, suppressing a giggle and a smile as she saw him. Her father, Bazzite, was short and stocky even by gnomish standards. Years of moving about stone and earth had given him thick muscles, though it did nothing to change the fact he had to look up to talk to just about anyone. Even still, he would have cut an imposing figure standing at the end of the hall, arms crossed and foot tapping against the floor, if not for a few details that belied his composure and pointed to a hasty interception of his daughter. Firstly, he had clearly lit the candle he was holding in haste, as it was standing lopsided on its plate, dripping haphazardly over his crossed arm and onto the floor. In his other hand a half-eaten slice of bread slathered with jam. Occasionally he would uncross his arms as he either burned himself on the melting wax or took another bite of bread, and at some point in his haste he had managed to get a stripe of jam across the bridge of his nose. This all resulted in him cutting the least stern figure Tourmaline could possibly think of, and evidently her mother felt the same as she stood behind him covering her mouth to stifle her giggles while waving an apology at Tourmaline.


    ¡°Sorry Dad, I thought I¡¯d be gone before you noticed.¡± She snickered.


    ¡°At least try to apologize correctly.¡± He sighed back with a put upon look on his face. ¡°I wish you wouldn¡¯t sneak around behind my back. The both of you.¡± At the end he looked over his shoulder at his wife, and both Beryl and Tourmaline sobered quickly.


    ¡°Well¡­¡± She began hesitantly. ¡°It¡¯s just, neither of us are going to change our minds on it. So I wanted to avoid the argument.¡±


    ¡°This is exactly why I was worried about you hanging out with that boy. Sneaking out, not telling us where you¡¯re going. It¡¯s disrespectful, and dangerous!¡± He was getting louder at this point, clearly irate.


    ¡°We¡¯re not even leaving the burrow! I¡¯m going straight to his house, and then to the workshop!¡± Tourmaline was beginning to yell back. Her mother was trying to get between the two of them, raising her hands to try and calm them. When they got into it, however, the whole world fell away.


    ¡°He¡¯s already got you going behind our back, how long before you start leaving the burrow with him on his little scavenging missions?¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t make me sneak out, you did! Because every time I try to do what I want to do, you make it a fight. What do you have against Jet? Against progress? Against alchemy!?¡±


    Ah there is it. She thought. It¡¯s gone and become a fight.


    ¡°His ¡°alchemy¡± is dangerous! Progress is slow, steady, and safe. This haphazard experimentation is going to get him killed, just like his father! I just don¡¯t want you to go down with him.¡± Her father roared, panting to get back his breath in the silence afterwards.


    Tourmaline rocked back on her feet, stunned by this revelation. She didn¡¯t know all the details of Jet¡¯s father¡¯s death, and even if it was the result of some alchemical accident, it didn¡¯t give him a right to distrust her with her own agency and safety.  It did, unfortunately, make his worry far more understandable to Tourmaline. Her mother was looking between the two worriedly, uncertain about this new ground they were treading. Beryl came from another burrow, and evidently wasn¡¯t familiar with this bit of her new home¡¯s history. Meanwhile her father was looking down and away, perhaps ashamed at himself for blowing up on her and spilling secrets he wasn¡¯t meant to share. She was in the midst of formulating a response when a knock at the door cut her off. Neither her nor her father were in any condition to entertain guests, so her mother moved past them to open the door, giving Tourmaline a little nudge with her hips, pushing her back enough to open it. Tourmaline shuffled back and came to a stop beside her father, neither looking at each other yet. Instead both strained to hear the conversation at the door, yearning for a distraction.


    ¡°Yes? Oh, hello!¡± Beryl said in a friendly tone. Whoever was out there was speaking too softly for either to hear. Tourmaline could barely discern it was a feminine voice, forced to put together the conversation from the half she could here.


    ¡°Yes, Tourmaline is here¡­ No Jet hasn¡¯t been by¡­ Okay, okay hold on, why don¡¯t you just come in and ask her yourself?¡± Tourmaline perked up at the mention of her name, concerned by the note of worry she heard in her mother¡¯s voice. Beryl stepped out of the doorway and let in a woman Tourmaline knew quite well. Diamond was Jet¡¯s mother, and Tourmaline had known her since her early childhood, when she met Jet at school. Normally graceful and reserved with an impassive demeanor, today Diamond was looking stressed and frazzled, hair awry and eyes darting around the room as though searching for something. A pained look flashed across Bazzite¡¯s face, and Tourmaline suspected he was worried Diamond had heard him mention Jet¡¯s father. If she had she made no mention of it, locking eyes with Tourmaline instead.


    ¡°Hello Lina, Bazz. I¡¯m sorry to bother you so early, but have either of you seen Jet?¡± She attempted to hide it, but a note of panic wormed its way into her question. Tourmaline looked to her father and mother in concern, and shook her head before she spoke.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m sorry. I was just going to meet up with him actually. He isn¡¯t home then?¡± She asked, and Diamond shook her head. ¡°Well, have you been by our workshop? Sometimes he gets so excited to start I have to meet him there.¡±


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    ¡°I checked there and it looked like he hadn¡¯t been by yet. Even worse¡± She continued, ¡°His backpack is still missing! I¡¯m worried he never came back last night.¡±


    The poor gnome matron¡¯s voice became tremulous as tears gathered in her eyes. Tourmaline¡¯s father stepped forwards, and for a brief moment Tourmaline was worried she was going to see a smug expression on his face as his thoughts said ¡®I told you so!¡¯ To her relief, and immediate guilt, he instead put his hand on Diamond¡¯s shoulder and attempted to reassure her.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, I¡¯m sure he didn¡¯t get too far from the burrow. Tourmaline should be able to tell us how to get there, right?¡± He said as he looked to his daughter for confirmation. Tourmaline swallowed her shame at thinking so poorly of her father, and shook her head.


    ¡°He told me what it was he was going to look at but I¡¯m not sure where. He was going to look at a mushroom glade in the forest nearby.¡±


    Tourmaline wracked her mind for any further details as Diamond¡¯s expression crumbled into something despondent and pained, her only lead drying up right in front of her.


    ¡°Oh! Oh yes, he said he got his information from that traveling trader! The myconid one? He should still be in the square!¡± Tourmaline said excitedly. Diamond made as if she was going to rush out the door, but Bazzite¡¯s grip on her shoulder tightened.


    ¡°Hold on a second, we¡¯ll go with you.¡± Not waiting to hear any argument, he immediately passed by her on his way to the door and grabbed his boots off of the rack of shoes. He did the same for Tourmaline and Beryl, gently tossing them their shoes. All three pulled them on quickly as Diamond danced from toe to toe, her nerves growing by the minute. As soon as they stood she was out the door, nearly running down the hallway ahead of them. Tourmaline¡¯s family hastened to keep up, the patter of the group¡¯s rapid footsteps echoing through the still empty halls. It would be a bit longer yet before most of the other gnomes woke and began their days, though the early hour didn''t stop them from running into - sometimes almost literally - the few gnomes who were up and moving about. From the narrow residential tunnels the group made their way into the wider thoroughfares reserved for businesses and government buildings. Here the stonework of the tunnels became more ornate, perfectly fitted stone slotted together seamlessly beneath their feet, gorgeous reliefs depicting gnomish legends decorating the walls and ceiling. The avenue the group was traveling down was one of eight spreading out from the center of the burrow, making the plaza they approached more of a town octagon than town square.


    After some time they came to the town square, which featured immense sculptures of legendary gnomes and, of course, the fairy nobility who ruled over all creatures in the Wylde. Spiral staircases sat at four equidistant points from the center, wrought iron banisters spinning up into a level above, and into the sub-level below. The group took the nearest stairways, shocking an elderly gnome gentleman as he exited onto the main floor. Tourmaline, bringing up the rear of the group, apologized and steadied him before taking the stairs two at a time to catch up to her family on the floor below. The lower shopping arcade was dense with traders and stalls, an amazing display of the varieties of magical creatures you could find in the Wylde, albeit only those among gnomish sizes. Pixies, another form of earth spirit, were the second most common pieces behind the gnomes themselves, their slender frames and pale skin a sharp contrast to gnomes, who were generally stockier and stronger. Bluecaps and coblynau were the next most common, banding together into groups of their own to take strength in numbers, though the pixies still outnumbered them by a significant degree. Interspersed between those three species were isolated examples of even more foreign and esoteric species Tourmaline couldn¡¯t begin to name. She homed in on her family, somehow far ahead of her and already at the stall of the myconid trader.


    Myconids were an interesting breed, each one¡¯s shape and size dependent not only on the type of mushroom it grew from, but also the personality of the individual myconid. While most had a mouth to intake ¡°food,¡± the remaining features were entirely extraneous, grown or carved into the body of the mushroom as a matter of form over function. As far as Tourmaline knew it didn¡¯t actually hurt them, but the practice gave many people she knew mixed feelings. Coupled with their haunting, raspy voices myconids had developed a bad reputation among those who were the type to let their first impressions dictate their behavior. This myconid must have been at the mercantile business for a while, as seemed completely unruffled by the gnomes all but yelling at him unintelligibly. It waited until the party had exhausted themselves and were trying to catch their breath before it spoke.


    ¡°Hm,¡± It droned, ¡°What seems to be the issue? You don¡¯t seem to have complaints about my products, but what else would you need with a merchant?¡± The mushroom creature spoke slowly, drawing a protective arm over its merchandise which consisted mostly of various edible fungi. Before anyone could catch their breath and yell at the poor trader more, Tourmaline cut in.


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m so sorry to bother you but, you see, my friend has gone missing and we¡¯re hoping you can help us find him.¡± She blurted. The myconid tilted its head in confusion, sending a small dusting of rusty red spores into the air.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a tracker or a guide, so I don¡¯t know how I can help. But if you say that I can, then I will.¡± The myconid¡¯s voice remained low and slow as it droned, but Tourmaline vaguely felt a sense of energy and determination emanating from the being.


    ¡°Actually, my friend came by here a couple of days ago. You directed him to a nearby mushroom glade for alchemical reagents?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes, the swarthy gnomeling!¡± It chirruped back. ¡°Has he not returned?¡±


    His question was evidently an afterthought, for Tourmaline hadn¡¯t yet responded before the myconid was bringing forth some sort of parchment and a charcoal pencil. With quick movements, almost unnatural given the sedentary lives most fungus lived, the myconid sketched out a rough map of the area around the burrow, and various landmarks on the way to the glad. Below the illustration it seemed to write more detailed directions. Looking over it once more to be sure it was accurate, the mushroom seemed to be satisfied, handing the parchment to Bazzite.


    ¡°If you need me to show you the way, I¡¯d be happy to show you personally.¡± It said as it puffed itself up confidently.


    ¡°Thank you so much, but that shouldn¡¯t be necessary! C¡¯mon Dad, let¡¯s go find him!¡± Tourmaline said excitedly, grabbing her father by his forearm. She rushed away only to be yanked to a stop by his unmoving form. Looking back she saw a look on his face of deep consideration.


    ¡°No, Tourmaline I want you to wait here with your mother and Diamond. I¡¯m going to inform the council and get the city guard to come out there with me.¡± He said firmly. Tourmaline went to argue, but he held his hand up to forestall her.


    ¡°Stop. This isn''t about you adventuring or breaking tradition. We don¡¯t know what happened to Jet, and if he¡¯s in trouble or danger I want to have people there who can help. And I certainly don¡¯t want to put my family in danger.¡± He said with a wan smile. Diamond balled her hands in frustration before speaking up.


    ¡°I have to go and make sure he¡¯s okay. Say whatever you want but if I have to I''ll just sneak out right behind you.¡± Diamond stated defiantly. Bazzite looked aggrieved for a moment before a thoughtful look crossed his face.


    ¡°Alright, I can understand that.¡± He said kindly before looking at his wife. ¡°Beryl, you take Tourmaline home and make sure she stays there. We can¡¯t afford to waste anymore time here.¡±


    Before Tourmaline could interject he and Diamond were dashing away. Her mother gripped her shoulder far more tightly than was comfortable, and was the only thing stopping her from pursuing them. Her mother refused to meet her gaze as she escorted Tourmaline back to their home and for her part Tourmaline didn¡¯t give her mother any grief. Tourmaline understood why her father didn¡¯t want her to go and she knew she wasn¡¯t likely to be of much help. Even knowing her own helplessness, part of her wanted to struggle out of her mother¡¯s vice-like grip.


    They arrived home in silence, her mother immediately going about cleaning the house, pulling Tourmaline along in her wake. To tidy up was always Beryl¡¯s response to stress, and this was perhaps the most furiously her daughter had ever seen her clean.It was hours before they finished the various chores Beryl managed to cook up around the house. Beryl started dinner next and cooking was one of the few things she refused to share with anyone, finding it apparently bothersome to work around others in the kitchen. Kicked to the curb, Tourmaline had to admit that filling one¡¯s time with menial labor was better than mulling over the situation as she had little to do but sit on the sofa and watch the front door. Her only relief was when her mother asked her to set the table, spots for each of them and her father, plus additional spots for Jet and Diamond.


    The dinner was made, a soup of some kind, and cooled with no change in the tense atmosphere of their home, nor any news. Every time footsteps could be heard in the hall outside Tourmaline and her mother perked up, looking expectantly at their door. Without fail the footsteps passed into the distance, leaving them crestfallen and more worried than before. Beryl tried to serve a bowl to Tourmaline, however it remained untouched, neither of them up to eating. Leaving the pot on the stove, Beryl moved out into the living room to sit with Tourmaline, clasping their hands together. Just as the silence and pressure got to be too much and Beryl opened her mouth to speak, the door to their home burst open. Tourmaline and Beryl both shot out of their seats and rushed to the entryway to see Bazzite standing just inside, dripping wet. Kicking off his shoes and wiping the water out of his eyes he looked at his family with somber eyes.


    ¡°Did you find him?¡± Beryl asked hopefully.


    ¡°No. By the time we got there it had started to rain, but it was clear some big folk had camped there.¡± He said as he pulled off his shirt which was wet clean through. ¡°There was no sign of Jet though.¡±


    ¡°Mortals!? What were they doing in the Wylde? What about Diamond, is she okay?¡± Beryl said worriedly, questions falling from her mouth in a babble, speaking the words as fast as she could formulate them.


    ¡°Diamond is distraught, she¡¯s staying with a friend of hers for now. As for the mortals, who knows what they were doing there originally but it seems likely to me that they wound up taking Jet.¡±


    ¡°Well what are we going to do now? Are we going to follow the humans?¡± Tourmaline interjected.


    ¡°There¡¯s not much more we can do.¡± Bazzite said sadly.


    ¡°Surely we could go to the Queen! There¡¯s rules against mortals coming into our forest and doing whatever they want.¡± Tourmaline argued.


    ¡°Sure, if we had proof the mortals even did anything. There¡¯s no proof they even saw Jet, let alone harmed him. Even if they did take him, we don¡¯t know for sure he didn¡¯t go voluntarily. The Queen wouldn¡¯t be happy if we went to her with what we had now.¡±


    ¡°So we¡¯re just going to give up on him?¡± Tourmaline was crying now, tears clawing their way out of her eyes and down her face even as she tried to fight them.


    ¡°There¡¯s even the possibility the humans had nothing to do with it, perhaps he was taken by one of the many threats in the Wylde. We have no idea where to start searching for him.¡± Bazzite met her gaze with stern conviction in his eyes, making sure he had her attention before continuing. ¡°This is the very reason I didn¡¯t want you out adventuring like him in the first place.¡±


    Tourmaline was stunned for a moment by what her father said. Beryl spoke, trying to stop the argument she knew was coming. Her words were lost as Tourmaline vented her stress and anger at her father.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯d turn this into an opportunity to lecture me!¡± She shouted. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you were so cold-hearted.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what-¡± Bazzite tried to explain himself but Tourmaline was having none of it. In a shocking display she shoved her father aside and stormed out of her home. Her parents were taken aback by her behavior, her mother descending into quiet sobs in the silence that followed. Bazzite made no move to follow her, knowing he had gone too far. He simply guided his wife to their bedroom to allow her to rest. He told himself he would have the chance to explain himself to Tourmaline when she cooled off and returned.

 Chapter 3

    Pug¡¯s day had gone from bad to worse in a horrid type of escalation, almost as though he had dared the universe to do its worst. Something he would never do, of course. Pug knew full well just how awful and capricious the world could be, and wisely chose to mitigate life¡¯s reasons to visit misfortune upon him by keeping his complaints to himself, never daring the universe to up the ante. Despite his Pug¡¯s reluctance, and against his protests, his father had ousted him from the house to roam the village. His father seemed inclined to believe his melancholic mood was due to a lack of socialization.


    Pug knew he meant well of course, however good intentions did little to alleviate his trepidation at the moment. Once Pug was outside of the safety of his home, it was only a matter of moments before the other fairies took note. He could feel their eyes peeking out from behind leaves and through darkened windows, whispered words half hidden by hands over mouths. Imagined or not, the feeling made him duck his head and bring his shoulders high, as if he could hide himself from their attention. His footsteps quickened, the thudding of his feet resounding in his ears as he made his way along the wooden platforms his village was built upon, a network of crisscrossing boardwalks and rope bridges connecting the scattered buildings in a half-hearted attempt to make the village traversable for outsiders. He knew no one on the ground would see their village nestled among branches and hidden in cloaking leaves, the wider thoroughfares disguised as broad boughs. The hidden nature of the village offered him no comfort, as what he wanted to hide from resided in the village itself, soaring through the air all around him.


    As though summoned a voice rang out, ¡°Well if it isn¡¯t the mothman himself!¡±


    Though it sounded jovial on the surface, there were barbs beneath the cheery veneer. A hidden malice colored the words, only evident to one who had been on the receiving end for so long. Steeling his resolve, Pug turned to Kudzu, the fairy who called out to him. Kudzu and Pug were of a similar age and height, however their similarities ended there. Calling Kudzu¡¯s build athletic was something of an understatement. He was likely the single strongest fairy in the village, muscles clear and well defined beneath sun-tanned skin. His hair, as black as a moonless night, was slicked back in a curly, tousled mess. Perhaps most catching of all were his purple eyes, a deep and full color, fully displaying the hostility their master harbored for him. Surrounding him were several other fairies, his posse of sycophants. His twin sister Belladonna was at his side, a little thinner and taller than he was, her long hair the same deep shade of black, the same eyes peeking between her carefully managed bangs. They were identical even down to the particular shimmer of disdain that danced in her gaze.


    The rest of their coterie surrounded them in a loose crowd, the few fairies assembled with them representing the majority of the people his age in the village. Aconite, Kudzu¡¯s closest friend, stood beside Rose, both of them deep in conversation and ignoring Pug, much to his relief. Tulip and Lily were more engaged, sneering at Pug as Kudzu closed in on him. Their delicate features and the striking color of their wings, normally things of beauty, were intimidating to Pug. His own mousy, mottled brown hair and wings had their mundanity exemplified by the pale green color of his eyes


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have anything better to do?¡± Pug asked, exasperated. Kudzu stopped in front of him, a look of annoyance flashing across his face. From the corner of his eye Pug could see Belladonna circling around him behind him. The pair of them were wolves, nipping and harrying at him.


    ¡°If you would just ask, I''d be more than happy to paint these eyesores over for you.¡± Belladonna murmured, fingers poking at Pug¡¯s wing, causing it to flutter unconsciously.


    ¡°You¡¯d have to fix his hair too. At least then he could pretend to be normal.¡± Kudzu dashed forward and tugged at Pug¡¯s hair, pulling back with a laugh as Pug lashed out, all the while hissing in pain. Pug continued to frown angrily in his direction, but did his best to keep Belladonna in his line of sight. He could feel his face starting to flush as his eyes burned from holding back tears. Years of this hadn¡¯t dulled his response to their jabs, most likely because they were right. He didn¡¯t look at all like any other fairies in the village. Their wings were those of butterflies, bright and patterned, their eyes were colorful like flowers. He was dull in comparison, wings brown and mottled while his eyes were a flat stone gray. His skin was pale and freckled, blemished with scars from his adventures.


    While Pug was proud of the hard work he had done to earn those scars and his uncharacteristic muscles, he knew it just set him even further apart from the rest of his people. His pride was a weak defense before their judging eyes and harsh words. Kudzu¡¯s face lit up as inspiration seemed to hit him, and he grinned wickedly as he leaned in to Pug¡¯s ear.


    ¡°It¡¯s no wonder your mom abandoned you, if you came out looking like this.¡± Kudzu whispered with gleeful malice.


    A burst of fury rose up quicker than lightning through Pug and he lashed out, pushing Kudzu away from him. Kudzu didn¡¯t expect the attack and was caught off guard by the strength in Pug¡¯s arms, stumbling backwards and into his sister Belladonna. She was not expecting the sudden push either, and her light form was bumped over the edge of the bough they were standing on and into open air where she fell with a surprised and unladylike squawk. She floated back up relatively quickly, a sour look on her face as slow wingbeats brought her back to the boardwalk. Kudzu caught himself before falling and immediately fell into a rage, the foul expression forming on his face finally a match for the wickedness in his gaze.


    ¡°You¡¯d do well to not talk about my mom again.¡± Pug warned him, his heart beating rapidly as adrenaline hit him. Fear and shame were gone now, replaced with a focused heat that built in his chest and his hands until they felt as if they were pressed against hot coals. It had been a long time since anyone had talked about his mother, and for good reason. It was just about the only thing he¡¯d fight them on, and it was generally accepted that the rise they got out of him was rarely worth the black eyes and fat lips they¡¯d take home.


    Much to Pug¡¯s surprise Kudzu didn¡¯t even bother to respond, instead lunging at him and knocking him onto his back. Apparently his lifelong enemy had become much more comfortable with roughhousing. Caught completely off guard and unready to catch himself, seeing as usually the arrogant sod preferred to talk his way out of trouble, Pug fell back and hit the back of his head on the wooden boardwalk with a crack that sent stars across his vision, leaving him dazed. Kudzu wasted no time straddling his chest, using his positional advantage and leverage to deal out several heavy punches to Pug¡¯s face before he could block them. The barrage didn¡¯t last long though, Kudzu already letting up as he struggled to regain his breath, chest heaving. Kudzu was strong, but he had no training and little self control. His wanton approach to violence caused him to exhaust his energy far faster than he should have, however Pug made no move to retaliate in the brief lull he had been granted. Not yet. Once he caught his breath, Kudzu smiled viciously and leaned forward.


    ¡°I know all about your mother you-¡± Was all he managed to say before Pug whipped his head forward and into Kudzu¡¯s nose.


    A muted crack vibrated its way through Pug¡¯s skull before the sound reached his ears, creating a disjointed echo as Pug heard Kudzu¡¯s nose break twice. The other fairy howled, pulling himself back and cupping his hands around his nose, blood already running down his face. As he did so Pug threw his hips up, unbalancing Kudzu and sending him falling towards Pug. In an effort to keep Pug from headbutting him again, or getting thrown off entirely, Kudzu threw a hand out to brace against the ground. Giving him no time to recover, Pug snared the arm Kudzu was using to support himself with his own and pushed at Kudzu¡¯s side with his free hand while he twisted his hips. Kudzu finally brought his other hand away from his face to stop him, but it was too late. The pair of them rolled, swapping places as Pug came out on top. Rather than pummel Kudzu, Pug simply repositioned his free hand on Kudzu¡¯s shoulder, leaning back as he did so to put strain on the arm he still had trapped against his body.


    At first nothing changed, but as the force and weight on Kudzu¡¯s shoulder increased, pain began to work its way across his face. Pug had made sure to trap his foe¡¯s free arm under a knee as he pinned Kudzu, and the darker fairy had no way to contest the hold. Perhaps it was his imagination, but Pug thought he could almost hear the creaking and popping of Kudzu¡¯s arm growing in intensity as time went on. Finally Kudzu broke, his firm countenance crumbling as a whimper escaped him. Seeing this caused Pug to relax, releasing Kudzu¡¯s arm and rolling backwards out of his hold onto his feet in a crouch. Standing unsteadily Pug pressed his palm to his face as he realized a small trickle of blood was working its way free of his nose. A little thrill of exhilaration coursed through him as he watched Kudzu struggle to stand, apparently more disoriented by Pug¡¯s headbutt than either of them had realized. He was finally helped up by a serious looking Belladonna. Behind the two of them their coterie stood in a cluster, displeasure writ across their expressions. Aconite was attempting to press forward and fight Pug himself, but was being held back by Rose, who whispered calming words to him. Her eyes flicked briefly from Aconite to Kudzu and Pug, but her expression was inscrutable. Perhaps she didn¡¯t like Aconite¡¯s odds in a straight fight. Pug flinched as a new voice spoke, her arrival unnoticed in the midst of his confrontation with Kudzu.


    ¡°You all made quite the disturbance, considering you managed to get my attention all the way from my room.¡± The voice emanated a short distance to Pug¡¯s right, slow and melodious. Pug turned his head, wincing slightly as an abused muscle complained, to see Orchid, the last of the fairies his age in the village. Her obscenely long, never-been-cut-once hair was bundled in her arms, its silky white waves kept safe from the ground below by her diligence and the gentle caress of her magic that kept it weightless and untangled.


    ¡°If I heard this, then we all know someone else had to as well. I¡¯d recommend you all go home before an elder arrives and finds something better for you to put your energy towards.¡± She warned. Her tone was even and calm, face impassive even as she warned them away. Her pink eyes gave nothing away other than a burning desire to be free of this inconvenience immediately.


    Aconite froze and a brief look of worry crossed his face as he considered the chores they¡¯d find themselves doing if an elder did stumble across this scene. Deciding to heed her words, he helped Belladonna prop Kudzu up and together they flew away. They measured their wingbeats diligently, careful to remain in sync so as not to drop their bleeding and bruised parcel. As they flew, Belladonna cupped a hand filled with the glowing green light of magic to Kudzu¡¯s face. The other fairies took off after them, though not without Lily and Tulip giving Pug dirty looks as they flew away. Orchid and Pug watched them until they were gone amongst the leaves and branches before Orchid turned to look at him. She placed her delicate fingers under his chin and firmly tilted his head this way and that, getting a good look at his face.


    ¡°If I hadn¡¯t seen Kudzu I would¡¯ve said you lost this fight.¡± Orchid teased, her joking tone underlied by a note of worry. If he didn¡¯t know her better he might¡¯ve gotten whiplash as she moved to this from her previously dull and uninterested tone.


    ¡°That bad, is it?¡± He asked wryly. She gave him a cute frown, tweaking his nose in irritation before turning away.


    ¡°Follow me. I¡¯d like to get you cleaned up, though I should remind you that I can¡¯t use healing magic like Bella can.¡± She said as she strode away. Pug hastened to follow, and as he caught up to walk beside her she spoke again.


    ¡°I worry about you, dealing with Kudzu and the others.¡± Concern wreathed her voice. It was a conversation hashed and rehashed a thousand times before.


    ¡°Sorry.¡± Pug said sheepishly.


    ¡°And you interrupted my reading with all that bother.¡± She continued, her voice taking on a piqued tone. Despite how aloof she was, he knew it was her way of saying she was glad he was okay and moving past it. In the past she¡¯d rant and rave for hours, but time had dulled her temper somewhat. Especially after they¡¯d been banned from seeing each other for a year after she took a particularly vicious bit of vengeance on his behalf. Her father was insistent she behave like a proper lady, and using magic to glue Kudzu¡¯s eyelids together was not very proper or ladylike in his estimation.


    ¡°Heaven forbid I interrupt your reading. Kudzu and I are lucky you didn¡¯t pass judgment on us.¡± Pug teased, giggling as Orchid responded with dissatisfied harrumph.


    The two walked the rest of the way to Orchids house in friendly silence, broken seldomly by idle chatter, a state of being both found oddly comforting. Pug remembered spending a lot of his early childhood simply sharing each other¡¯s presence, Orchid reading on the side as he got up to some mischief on his own. He appraised her as they walked, remembering the mousy fairy who was scared of her own shadow and the world beyond her manor, let alone her magic. Now she exuded a quiet confidence, speaking her mind without hesitation or restraint when she felt she needed to, much to her father¡¯s dismay. Shirking her lessons, and the social roles her father had raised her to play, she spent her days immersed in her interests. Reading, writing, painting, and playing her lyre, she lived a life of idle contentment.


    Once her petite build had made her look frail and weak. Now, however, she exuded an ethereal quality that was only enhanced by her calculated disinterest in the world beyond her passions. So engrossed was she in her own world that her very appearance was bent around them. Her clothes were long, loose fitting robes or dresses that required little fitting or effort to dress in, completely unlike the corsets and dresses her maids had once forced her into. Her hair had gone uncut for years now, the waves of full, thick locks long enough now that they ought to drag on the ground behind her when she walked. Her hair, much like her robes and skin, were shades of porcelain white and, also like her robes, were enchanted with minor magics to make them buoyant and resistant to filth.


    This buoyancy was just enough to keep it all weightless and, coupled with her general affinity for shades of white, worked to make her look like a wisp of smoke, or perhaps a rolling bank of fog. She was ever wreathed in folds of cloth and silken eddies of hair, the only point of color being piercingly green eyes that regarded others from the shadowed recesses of her general nimbus of being. Her eyes hid her feelings flawlessly, the only expression in them being the sharp points of curiosity and the flash of light as they flicked from one target to the next.


    In total her looks added up to her being regarded as disquieting or ghost-like, despite her beauty. Pug knew she preferred it this way, as it helped to discourage prospective suitors or strangers trying to be overly friendly. Coupled with her bad attitude, she¡¯d almost certainly given her father an ulcer or two by now as his desperate search for a well-to-do man to marry into the family came up empty time and again. Catching Pug staring, she arched a quizzical eyebrow and flashed a mischievous grin at him, causing a blush to blossom on his cheeks. Scowling he quickly turned away but not before catching the infuriating smirk on her lips.


    Rather than make excuses, which would only earn him further teasing, he turned his attention to the neighborhood around them. Nestled in the oldest part of the village, the buildings here were built into a hollow of the tree, stacked upon each other to conserve as much space as they could. As the village had expanded outward many of the homes had been joined together to create mansions with multiple stories of patchwork aesthetics. Orchid¡¯s family was venerated and well respected, and so their home was one of the largest, three stories tall not including the basement and attic, all of which was built directly into the tree. A living home built with fairy magic, sculpted directly into the wood.


    Orchid burst into her home, throwing open the door with the disregard only someone raised with people to pick up after them could channel. She darted up the stairs with little in the way of greeting, leaving Pug to smile apologetically at the poor maid standing in the foyer, staring with owlishly wide eyes after her mistress. Anxious to return to her safe space, Orchid was nearly at the head of the stairs before she remembered Pug¡¯s wounds. Embarrassed, she turned around and called back to the maid.


    ¡°Bring me something cold for Pug¡¯s eye, as well as a clean rag for his lip.¡± She hesitated for a moment before adding, ¡°Please.¡±


    Unseen by Orchid, the maid gave a small smile as she curtsied. It had been a while since Pug had been by to visit, but all of the household staff had known him since he was a toddler, and were quite fond of him. Pug smiled back at the maid and gave a small wave, though he ducked away before she could ruffle his hair as the maids of the household were wont to do, having known him for most of his life. Orchid ran the rest of the way to her room, throwing open the door in a huff. Pug slid in behind her before she could slam the door in his face, a wry grin forming as he found his opportunity to tease her in return.


    ¡°You¡¯re just as awkward as ever. Plum Blossom is essentially a member of your family at this point, isn¡¯t she? And here I thought you were actually looking like a lady for once.¡±


    ¡°You be quiet or I¡¯ll have the maid bring some brandy to clean your split lip with.¡± She hissed back at him.


    They stared at each other a moment before each of them began to laugh. Together they sank to the floor, sprawling out on her lush carpet. Orchid let out a sigh of relief as the comfort of being in her own home relaxed her while Pug simply focused on soothing his various bruises. It was only moments before the door popped open, Plum Blossom pushing it open with her hip as she brought in  a tray with a bowl of water and a towel. She struggled to keep her expression neutral as she saw them, however Pug could have sworn a slight twist of her lips betrayed her amusement. Their lady would certainly never lay on the floor of her own volition. Only Pug could bring out her bad habits, a behavior that her maids all seemed to find adorable and encouraged as much as they could.


    Pug dipped his chin in thanks, however his easy grin turned into a scowl as Plum Blossom exploited his defenselessness to tousle his hair. Grumbling about how Orchid¡¯s maids always seemed to treat him like a child, he reached for the towel to dab his wounds only to have his hand slapped away by Orchid, shooing him away from the platter. Picking up the cloth, she soaked it in the cold water before wringing it out into the bowl and bringing the damp cloth to his lip. Plum Blossom decided to leave it to her mistress, humming happily as she closed the door behind her.


    Pug, still nursing his hand from Orchid¡¯s strike, gave her a reproachful, sullen glare. Orchid only scoffed in return, pulling him to his feet and sitting him at the edge of her bed. Looming above him, she worked at cleaning his face with surprising gentleness, though her ministrations held a subtle strength that held him in place. Caught between staring into her eyes, at her chest, or into empty space, Pug rapidly alternated between all three. He could only be grateful that the fairy maiden was far too focused to notice, or she would certainly avail herself of the opportunity to tease him while he was, quite literally, in the palm of her hand. Pug finally settled on watching her enchanted hair and robes drift lazily about, the tepid air currents of the closed room still enough to nudge them about in all their weightlessness. It almost appeared as if each individual lock and curl, each pale fold of cloth, were dancing with one another in a lazy waltz. Some minor spell, too small for codification in grimoires and likely passed from mother to daughter by word of mouth for generations, kept any of it from tangling or binding up. He hardly noticed when Orchid pushed the damp towel against his eye, only startled from his reverie when she spoke.


    ¡°The water that cloth is soaked in has an herbal remedy that should reduce your swelling.¡± She said in a stilted manner as she read from a small note the maid had left on the tray beside the bowl. ¡°Huh, pretty neat.¡±


    ¡°Amazing¡± Pug smiled back at her. ¡°Any details on how long I have to keep it there?¡±


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°No idea. It looks like you¡¯ll just have to stay here and suffer through your treatment. Until this evening at least. I imagine you¡¯ll be bored.¡± She replied as she finished tying the bandage tasked with holding the compress in place. Pug suspected she was taking advantage of the situation to keep him around, though he didn¡¯t particularly mind.


    ¡°Oh the horror.¡± Pug shot back sarcastically, falling onto his back in an exaggerated swoon.


    Orchid, satisfied with her handiwork, walked away and retrieved her lyre from where it was carelessly left on the floor. Settling into her chaise lounge near the window, she snapped her fingers and released the enchantments on herself. Immediately her hair and robe went limp and fell, creating a cacophony of susurration as they hit the ground. Rearranging herself so she was more comfortable even with her hair wreathing her, Orchid nodded to herself contentedly and began to play a soft tune.


    Pug couldn¡¯t help but laugh at her awkward attempts to distance herself from her previous openness, though he wisely bit it back lest she hear him laugh at her expense. Checking his bandage to ensure it was firmly affixed, he stood and moved over to a large wooden chest by the wall. Opening it up he could see many of the toys the two had played with through their childhood inside. He was rooting around, looking for something in particular when Orchid paused her playing to speak.


    ¡°Things are only going to get worse after today. With Kudzu and the others, I mean.¡± She clarified.


    ¡°I know. I shouldn¡¯t have reacted like I did but¡­ he insulted my mom.¡± Pug said. A fortunate discovery stole his attention before the memory lit his temper again. ¡°Yes, you still have it!¡±


    Alongside his exclamation Pug withdrew an old wooden staff, which was still wrapped in the ragged old cloth he¡¯d used to preserve it.


    ¡°Of course I still have it.¡± Orchid reassured absentmindedly, plucking at a few strings on the lyre.


    ¡°Do you remember when Rose¡¯s mother Briar would show up to train us? Me on the spear and bow, you on your dainty little sword.¡± He smiled at the memory.


    ¡°I remember being hot, sweaty, sunburned, and hating the world, yes.¡± Orchid stated dryly. Briar was always easier on her than she had been on Pug, so he felt she had little room to complain.


    ¡°Such a delicate flower.¡± Pug teased as he unwrapped the cloth to reveal the wood of the staff, worn smooth by years of work and sweat.


    Orchid stuck her tongue out at him before resuming her playing. To the sounds of music Pug moved through various forms and strikes, a reliable way he¡¯d found to bleed some of the remaining aggression and rage he felt. He had a similar training weapon at home, put to use often in recent memory as life around the village grew more difficult. Peace was elusive here, and he often found himself leaving for days at a time, only returning to reassure his father he wasn¡¯t hurt or dead. The Wylde beyond the village was dangerous, and keeping up with his training had saved him more than once. He tempered his irritation, which urged him to move quickly and aggressively, favoring slow, graceful movements that were unlikely to agitate his bruises or loosen the bandage over his eye.


    Occasionally Orchid would sing as she played, and at one point directed Pug to move a podium to her side so she could take notes as she played. She would stop to amend a lyric or note, then continue with the song. She either completed or grew tired with the piece, as she closed the journal she was using for songwriting and propped her lyre up against the wall on the floor. She lazily pulled her novel out from underneath a one of the many pillows that threatened to swallow her whole, and began to read. This was relatively common for her, to flit from one thing to the next. It was perhaps her most whimsical and fairy-like trait. Pug wrapped up his exercises and sat on her bed, exhausted by the day even though it had only just begun. He meant to say something or Orchid, but in the light of the midday sun and the softness of her blankets he was powerless to resist the spell of sleep, and was almost immediately curled into a ball and softly snoring. Orchid smiled to herself as she glanced up and saw him fast asleep. The room took on a relaxed air as she read her novel to the backdrop of Pug¡¯s sleep filled murmurs.


    ***


    Pug awoke some time later, though how long he¡¯d been asleep was at first indiscernible. He must have been asleep for quite a time as the light in the room had grown dim. The room was quiet and still, and Pug wondered where his friend was. Expecting to see her asleep on her chaise lounge he rolled over, only for his breath to catch in his throat as his eyes met her as she loomed over him. Her face was within a hand¡¯s breadth of his, and her hair was floating again, locks curling around and framing her eyes which seemed to glow in the shadows. Grinning at the surprise on his face, she leaned back so he could sit upright.


    ¡°I finally got you to wake up. I''ve been trying for a while now.¡± She grinned. ¡°You look like you saw a ghost or something though.¡± Orchid tittered as she embraced her image as a phantom-like fairy, lifting her hands in dual claws as she pantomimed attacking him.


    Pug made no move to correct her as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, conveniently hiding his flushed face. Calming, he looked out the window, confirming the sun had begun to set. A little embarrassed, he returned his gaze to Orchid and apologized.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to sleep for so long. Sorry for leaving you all by your lonesome.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense. Being able to pursue my hobbies without feeling like I have to cater to your whims is why I like you so much.¡± She reassured Pug. ¡°Though I¡¯m afraid we must end it for today, someone is here to see you.¡±


    Pug looked at her quizzically. He couldn¡¯t imagine anyone would be looking for him, and even if they were he didn¡¯t think they would look here for quite some time. His father would know of his friendship with Orchid, however he wouldn¡¯t be likely to look for him sometime yet. Orchid saw his confusion and shrugged helplessly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know who it is or how they knew to look here.¡± She stated.


    ¡°How do you not know who¡¯s at your door?¡± Pugs brow furrowed in confusion.


    ¡°Our butler is the one who answered the door. He just told me someone was out there.¡± She said defensively.


    Rolling his eyes at her rich-girl-helplessness, Pug rolled out of bed. She sputtered indignantly as she read the look on his face, but didn¡¯t manage to say anything cohesive before he was out the door and striding down the hall. Though he did his best to hide it he was anxious at the thought of what sort of emergency would warrant someone seeking him out here. He pulled the bandage and compress from his face, where they were sitting rather haphazardly after being battered to and fro in his sleep. Satisfied his eye wasn¡¯t too swollen, he approached the butler by the door with a nod. The butler nodded back as he stepped aside, and Pug opened the door. In the dim light outside Pug could make out a village guard, looking impatient and frustrated. Recognizing Pug immediately the guard let out a relieved sigh.


    ¡°See, there he is. Now you stick with him and don¡¯t bother me any further.¡± The fairy blurted in a rush, before flapping his wings hurriedly and rushing into the night.


    The second figure rushed up to him, seeming relieved to see him. The figure got closer than he was comfortable with before tilting her face up to look at him. Simultaneously she pulled back her hood, shocking Pug with her familiar face.


    ¡°Tourmaline? What in the name of the Queen are you doing here?¡± He exclaimed.


    Before she could say anything, a chilly voice called out from behind Pug. ¡°Tourmaline? How do you know this gnome, Pug?¡±


    Looking over his shoulder, he saw Orchid¡¯s face was a mask of displeasure. She was never one to enjoy new people so he hastened to explain before she lynched him for bringing a stranger to her door. Gesturing at Tourmaline, he introduced them.


    ¡°Orchid, this is Tourmaline. She¡¯s a gnome I¡¯ve become acquainted with recently. I help her and her friend forage in the forest sometimes. Tourmaline, this is Orchid.¡± He said hurriedly.


    ¡°Hello Orchid, it¡¯s a pleasure to finally meet you. Pug has told Jet and I so much about you, it¡¯s a bit like meeting a celebrity.¡± She said softly, a weak smile on her face. This mollified Orchid somewhat, her frigid demeanor thawing. Pug turned back to his gnomish friend.


    ¡°You¡¯ve never roamed so far from home before. Is everything okay?¡±


    Getting a better look at the gnome, it was clear she was in some sort of distress. Her clothes were muddy and worn, and her face was dirty. Her hair was matted and tangled, her eyes wide and bloodshot. Pug went to question her further but was interrupted by Orchid, who put a hand on his shoulder.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get her into a bath and get some food in her belly before you start interrogating her, okay?¡±


    Pug stepped aside and allowed Orchid to lead Tourmaline away, swallowing his questions. He returned to Orchids room and paced about, gnawing at the worry and frustration in his heart. After a while Orchid returned to inform him Tourmaline was in the bath now and the staff were preparing a meal. Apparently her parents, both village elders, would not be eating at home tonight.


    They sat together in silence while they waited for Tourmaline to return. While the quiet between them had previously been pleasant, this one was fraught with tension. They exchanged a few bits of small talk, wondering what dinner would be -probably something foreign Pug couldn¡¯t pronounce- or whether Pug¡¯s father was wondering where he was yet - Pug was sure he wasn¡¯t. Just when Pug felt as though he couldn¡¯t take the waiting anymore the door opened and Tourmaline was led inside by Plum Blossom. Her dirty clothes were temporarily replaced with spider-silk pajamas of Orchid¡¯s, the gnome clearly unnerved at the open-backed design of fairy clothing, a design meant to accommodate their wings and probably felt a little too open to the gnome.


    Tourmaline plopped herself down on the bed next to them as several other maids filed in, bringing stands with trays for their meal, as well as silverware. They were followed by the butler, who had a cart staked with various dishes. He served out a slightly opaque vegetable broth, salads, some sort of berry pie, and roasted grouse before taking his leave. It was a decidedly simple affair for Orchid¡¯s household, the butler and his aides leaving quickly. Pug and Orchid were eager to question Tourmaline, however they were unfortunately too slow, as the gnome fell onto the meal ravenously as soon as she had the opportunity. The two fairies looked at each other with arched brows before smiling and following the gnome¡¯s lead, though at a more reasonable pace.


    The food was delicious and despite Pug attempting to match Orchid in speed, as to not look like a gluttonous boor, the leisurely pace at which she was eating was far too slow for his stomach. He wound up finishing his meal right after Tourmaline. Orchid watched the two lean back and pat their stomachs with twinkling eyes. Pug began to ask Tourmaline about their earlier conversation when the Gnome sat bolt upright as she remembered why she came to the fairy village.


    ¡°Jet¡¯s missing! I think he was kidnapped by humans¡± She blurted.


    ¡°What? Humans? Why would Jet be anywhere near humans? Why do you think they took him?¡± Pug asked, questions tumbling out one after another. ¡°Why were you so worn out, dirty, and hungry by the time you got here? Your burrow isn¡¯t far from here.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, let me start at the beginning. See, Jet had bartered for a good location for alchemical reagents from a myconid who stopped by our burrow to trade¡­¡±


    The tired little gnome explained her story between long yawns, clearly sleepy now she had eaten. After Jet hadn¡¯t returned home when he was expected to, she and her family had gone to the myconid merchant who was all too happy to direct them to where Jet was supposed to have gone. Her father took some city guards and searched the area, but could not find Jet. He did find a recently abandoned campsite there, and believed humans were the ones who had stayed there. Despite knowing humans were in the forest the night Jet disappeared, her father didn¡¯t believe they had enough evidence to take before the Queen and the Queen¡¯s blessing was necessary to pursue the Wylde¡¯s justice upon the humans. Frustrated and upset at her father, Lina had run away from home without packing much of anything.


    The brave gnome had first gone to the clearing where Jet had supposedly disappeared, but didn¡¯t find anything to clue her in to his current location. Not wanting to give up on him, she decided to seek out help the only other place she could think of. She backtracked, her goal in mind in the opposite direction of the clearing Jet had disappeared from her home. It was risky, and if her people had caught her they would have forced her to stay. Because of this she had little in the way of provisions, and nothing but the clothes on her back which were meant for comfort rather than travel. All this to find Pug. He was her friend, yes, but moreover he had built something of a reputation as a reliable helper, taking on odd jobs for whoever asked. If anyone was going to be able to help her, it would be him.


    Orchid listened to the story with rapt attention. She didn¡¯t know much about Pug¡¯s life outside the village, and was surprised to hear he was living like an adventurer from the stories told to them when they were children. Once the gnome was finished speaking she took a deep breath as though she had forgotten how to breathe while telling her story. Tourmaline looked to Pug, who had sat through the entire explanation in stoic silence, expectantly.


    ¡°Sure, I¡¯d be more than happy to help. Jet is my friend too, after all.¡± He assured Lina, pushing her back into her seat as the gnome leapt up.


    ¡°We¡¯re definitely not leaving tonight! I have to get some things ready if we¡¯re going to go on a long trip. Besides, you need to sleep before we do anything.¡± Lina looked as though she wanted to argue, despite being on the edge of nodding off in her seat.


    ¡°Here in a moment we¡¯ll head over to my place. We¡¯ve got a spare room, you can rest there while I get everything in order.¡±


    ¡°Tourmaline can stay here for tonight, actually.¡± Orchid cut in. ¡°We have more than enough rooms.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure? I don¡¯t want to take advantage of your kindness. She¡¯s my friend, after all.¡± He replied, uncertain.


    ¡°Having a young woman stay in a house along with two bachelors would be a poor look for all of us. Don¡¯t you agree?¡± She asked, sweet words reinforced with a glare of her narrowed eyes.


    Pug coughed and turned from her pointed gaze, nodding in agreement. Tourmaline would have blushed if she had any presence of mind to do so, but the gnomish maiden had already succumbed to the plush softness of Orchid¡¯s furniture. Seeing the gnome was well into the land of dreams, Pug stood and made his way to the door. He opened it but stopped before leaving the room, addressing Orchid.


    ¡°Thank you for taking care of her. If you¡¯d bring her to my place in the morning, we have some things to do before we can leave.¡±


    Orchid nodded rather than reply as Pug left the room, clearly deep in thought. Orchid brushed a few loose hairs out from Tourmaline¡¯s face as she watched the gnome sleep. With worry nestled deep in her heart Orchid left the room, closing the door behind her. She would sleep in a guest room, just for tonight.


    ***


    Pug¡¯s walk home was uneventful, though the village could have been on fire and he wouldn''t have noticed. He was deep in thought wondering why anyone would want to bring harm to Jet. The little gnome was friendly to the point of fault, and brimming with childlike wonder and curiosity. In Pug¡¯s mind only someone truly evil would endeavor to harm him. His imagination idly dreamt up thoughts of evil wizards and foul demons, Pug shaking his head to clear the images away. It was likely far simpler. Jet got lost, or perhaps he was attacked by a hawk or some other wildlife. Creatures of the Wylde their size tended to be easy prey for a lot of creatures. Regardless, Pug knew exactly who to speak to about his next step.


    The windows of his home were lit by candles and lamps, the only one this late at night. Pug did not even realize the oddity, and instead walked right in. He was so deep in thought as he pulled off his shoes and headed to his room he entirely missed his father, Erinus, sitting moodily at the dining room table. His father, shocked at being ignored, stood from the table and called out to him.


    ¡°Hey! Where were you? Do you have any idea how late it is?¡± Pug jumped, shocked out of his reverie. Turning to his father, he completely missed the frustrated look on his face.


    ¡°Dad! Good, I wanted to talk to you about something.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I wanted to talk to you too. Where were you? Kudzu¡¯s father came by trying to say you assaulted his son.¡± He said exasperatedly.


    ¡°Ah, sorry I¡¯m late, I ran into Orchid today. We hung out for a little bit like we used to, but I fell asleep and woke up pretty late.¡±


    ¡°You fell asleep!?¡± His father cried, pulling at an errant lock of his flame-red hair.


    ¡°Well her bed is really soft.¡± Pug explained innocently.


    ¡°In her bed? Asleep in her bed? Dear Queen, what are people going to think?¡±


    ¡°C¡¯mon dad-¡±


    ¡°Wait, a woman came by with a town guard earlier looking for you. She looked like she had been crying. Was because-¡±


    ¡°Oh yes, she found me at Orchid¡¯s. I¡¯m glad I got the chance to introduce the two of them.¡±


    ¡°You introduced them! Ash and Oak boy, you don¡¯t mean-¡±


    ¡°She fell asleep at Orchid¡¯s too! So it¡¯s not just me!¡± Pointed out.


    ¡°She did too? How could you do that to Orchid!¡±


    ¡°Well I didn¡¯t want her too, I was going to bring her back here but Orchid insisted she stay with her tonight.¡± He explained.


    Pug was just now focusing on his father, confused by the path the conversation had taken. His concern spiked as he saw his father sputtering, red-faced and angry. His old man had quite the temper when set off, a truly passionate fairy down to his bones. Pug wasn¡¯t sure why his dad was so upset until he thought back over their conversation so far. Though he had been distracted he remembered the gist of it. His face flushed as the realization of the nature of his father¡¯s misunderstanding struck him, and he backed up with his hands in front of him as a warding gesture as he tried to defend himself.


    ¡°Now wait-¡± He began, but Erinus was brooking no argument.


    ¡°Boy, I¡¯m as familiar with the passions as any other fairy. Perhaps more-so.¡± He growled


    ¡°Dad really, this is a misunderstanding.¡± He tried to reason in vain. His father was now circling the table to get to Pug.


    ¡°But to toy with a woman¡¯s heart like this is unacceptable. I know I raised you better than this.¡±


    ¡°Look, it''s not my fault your dirty mind has you confused. If you¡¯d let me explain-¡±


    ¡°Dirty mind? You think I¡¯m a pervert? A depraved fiend, do you?¡± His father was veritably roaring now. As Pug knew from experience, there was no reasoning with him when he got like this. He also knew according to village bylaws he was an adult fairy, and he would be damned before he let his old man spank his ass ever again. Deciding the better part of valor was indeed discretion, Pug took off out of the room and through the house, throwing furniture into his father¡¯s path and dodging him where he could. Erinus on the other hand charged straight and true like a bull, tripping over obstacles and slamming into walls. The resulting ruckus was loud enough to wake their neighbors who, down to the last fairy, smiled and thought about how long it had been since they had last heard a fight like this. Used to the commotion, the common response was to turn over and go right back to sleep, though Mrs. Tulip brewed a cup of tea and sat in her recliner listening to the drama until it came to an end.


    After what felt like an eternity, the two fairies had come to a stop, both panting heavily. Taking the opportunity to prove himself innocent, Pug hastened to explain what had happened today to his father. After several minutes his father¡¯s anger subsided, and a thoughtful look grew in its place. Mulling it over as he listened, his father nodded along as told him about the missing gnome, and his friend Tourmaline coming to seek his help. After he finished his story, Pug waited to see if his father would go off again. Instead the old man remained calm, and spoke in a more normal tone.


    ¡°So I expect you want to help the young lady then¡± He asked.


    ¡°I do. I know you might object since this will be my longest trip yet but-¡±


    ¡°Nonsense. We¡¯re fairies, spirits of whimsy and flight. We¡¯re made to dream, and to follow those dreams. Why, I left the village myself around your age!¡± his father interrupted him with a wave of his hand and a smile. ¡°Besides, after your tussle with Kudzu, it might be wise to give him a little room to breathe.¡±


    ¡°Looking at the others, I find it hard to believe we¡¯re spirits of whimsy and dreams.¡± Pug said bitterly, bringing his fingertips to his split lip.


    ¡°Some people waste their dreams, waste themselves, on small and petty things.¡± Erinus said gently, placing a reassuring hand on Pug¡¯s shoulder. ¡°They hope to be popular, well-liked, to fit in. Personally, I¡¯m of the belief that dreaming of helping someone is a far grander thing.¡±


    Pug smiled at his father. The old man cleared his throat, not used to saying such sentimental things. Turning away in embarrassment, he continued.


    ¡®¡°Is there anything you need from me before you go?¡±


    ¡°Actually if you could pack two travel packs for me, I would really appreciate it. I¡¯m exhausted, and I want to get a good amount of sleep before we set off tomorrow.¡± Pug asked gratefully.


    ¡°Consider it done. Is there anything else you can think of?¡± Pug thought for a moment before nodding enthusiastically.


    ¡°Could you get me a sacrifice for Baba?¡± He asked, his exhaustion forcing him to choose sleep over getting the sacrifice. His father grimaced at the thought, but nodded anyway.


    ¡°Sure thing. I¡¯ll have it loaded up in a wagon come morning. It might be a little later, depending, but it¡¯ll surely be there before noon.¡± His father said. Pug couldn¡¯t help but smile as his old man¡¯s time management skills leaked through


    His father headed to the front door to make arrangements for the sacrifice. Pug bade him goodnight, and shuffled off to his bed. He didn¡¯t even bother disrobing, instead falling flat on his face into the mattress. He was far too tired to think over any of his worries, however, for a brief moment, he did wish he was back in Orchid''s soft, soft bed.

 Chapter 4

    Pug woke from his sound sleep to the distant thudding of a fist on his front door. He shot up in his bed, startled but not yet fully aware of what was happening, blinking dumbly in the dim light of his room while residual numbness worked its way out of his limbs. With one hand he tried to knead life back into his leg, while with the other he wiped fruitlessly at his eyes, which were gummed shut. He had to be extra careful of his nose which was still sore to the touch. The phantom knocking showed no sign of slowing, instead mercilessly increasing in speed and intensity as time went on, though Pug only stood once he was completely sure he wouldn¡¯t fall immediately. Moving through his house, he bumped into a few doorways and pieces of furniture before coming to the front door, where he had to use a hand against the doorframe to pull the door open, earning a harsh little squeal as the jammed together wood parted.


    Orchids frustrated face peered through the crack at him, almost flush with the door as it opened. The young fairy lady forced the door open without allowing him to move, throwing Pug on his rear with a yelp. Pug glowered as she strutted in and looked around his home, her face wistful as she remembered the days she spent here years and years ago. Lina crept in behind her, likewise swiveling her head and taking in her surroundings, all the while exuding a quiet curiosity. Upon seeing Pug sitting on the floor she hurried over to offer a hand up, earning a brief look of gratitude before the young man returned to glaring at his childhood friend.


    ¡°This place hasn¡¯t changed a bit over the years.¡± Orchid said, ignoring Pug¡¯s sulking.


    Pug gave her a noncommittal grunt before looking at Lina, smiling gratefully as she pulled him to his feet. ¡°Are you feeling a bit better? You looked exhausted yesterday.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m feeling much better, though you¡¯re looking worse than I thought.¡± She teased, gesturing vaguely at him, and given his sleep addled demeanor and still swollen nose, he could see what she was getting at. Pug opened his mouth to give her a bit of light teasing back when Orchid interrupted him.


    ¡°I thought you said you were going to have everything ready?¡± She asked, quirking an eyebrow at the obvious lack of ¡°readiness.¡±


    ¡°I was gonna but I got into it with my old man, and by the time I got him settled down it was late and I was so tired I passed out.¡± He explained with a rueful smile.


    ¡°Got me settled down huh? You¡¯re two hundred years too young to be talking about me like that.¡± His dad roared jovially as he kicked open the front door, causing everyone to jump in surprise. Erinus grinned wolfishly at Pug, and the young fairy swallowed nervously. He was going to be getting an earful about being alone with Orchid and Lina, even if it was only for a moment.


    ¡°Orchid, great to see you. It¡¯s been far too long,¡± He continued, eyes still on Pug. Orchid seemed to be enjoying Pug¡¯s discomfort. ¡°And you must be Lina. My son told me about your troubles last night. I¡¯m sorry to hear about your friend.¡±


    Erinus clapped a rough hand on Lina¡¯s shoulder, though the gnome was built so well she hardly shifted at the force. Still, her eyes began to water, and Erinus hastened to draw attention from her. Clearing his throat he set down several packages and bags he had been cradling in his arms. Pug looked on in interest, spotting dried meats and fruits as well as other provisions for their journey.


    ¡°I tried to wake you up but you wouldn¡¯t budge. I figured I¡¯d let you sleep off shiner and get your supplies for you.¡± Erinus said, tweaking Pugs nose as he did. Pug scowled half heartedly through the dull ache this caused, but smiled in thanks in the end.


    ¡°I only got enough for two people however.¡± Erinus continued, eyeing Orchid rather pointedly.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to be staying behind. My father would never let me leave, and if I tried he¡¯d send the whole village after me.¡± Orchid clarified dryly. ¡°We stopped and got Lina some traveling clothes on the way here as well. Though it was a bit of a hassle to get them fitted for her.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m built for moving dirt, not flitting about among flowers and such! I won¡¯t be traipsing about with my bare back hanging out neither.¡± She protested. By the way Orchid tittered, it was clear she¡¯d been picking on Lina for a while.


    The conversation died down as Pug picked up their bags, making sure they weren¡¯t missing any supplies before handing one off to Lina. Orchid and Erinus retreated to the dining room and continued their conversation while Erinus made tea, excited to see each other and determined to make this a proper visit after not seeing each other for so long. Satisfied they both had everything they needed to camp out on their journey, the Pug and Lina joined the other two in the dining room for a quick meal before they left. A simple fare of sandwiches and tea was hastily consumed, the lion¡¯s share of what Erinus had prepared going to the two latecomers to the meal. As he made more sandwiches for himself and Orchid, Erinus spoke again.


    ¡°I got your offering to Baba all set up too. It¡¯s in a wagon with the guards at the foot of the tree. You¡¯ll have to push it yourself unfortunately.


    Pug grimaced but nodded. Baba¡¯s wasn¡¯t far from the village in any case, though he disliked the added delay. Washing down his food with the last of his tea, Pug stood. Lina, done long before him and reclining in her chair with a contented look on her face, scrambled to stand alongside him. The two shouldered their packs, which had been left hanging off the back of their chairs, and moved to the front door, with Erinus and Orchid following close behind. Pug turned to say his goodbyes and found himself wordless. Orchid stood before him, trying her hardest to look cool and collected despite the fact he could see the muscles in her jaw rigid and tense under the skin, her delicate hands clenched tightly. He bit his lip, worrying at it as he considered what he should say, or could say at this moment to reassure her.


    ¡°Well, you¡¯ll be eager to go. Baba is out of the way of the gnome village, and the wagon is going to be a bit of a hassle to pull. You should set out now before it gets any later.¡± His dad said boisterously, curiously obtuse.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry too much, I¡¯ll send word once we reach Lina¡¯s village. I¡¯m not sure how much farther this will take me, but I¡¯ll try to reach out when I can.¡± Pug assured her, though it looked like it did nothing to relax Orchid. He reached out and took her hands in his, gently working her fingers apart and rubbing the small crescent divots her nails left in their wake.


    ¡°Hey, if you worry too much you¡¯ll tarnish your image.¡± Pug teased.


    ¡°My image?¡± She asked, confusion writ across her face.


    ¡°You know, your image of an aloof ice queen unswayed by the worries of the world.¡±


    ¡°Oh is that how you see me? I¡¯ll be sure to give you the full ice queen treatment as soon as you get back.¡± She snapped back, turning her face away from him. ¡°I¡¯ll have you retell the story of your little adventure until you go hoarse in the throat!¡±


    ¡°I was probably going to do that anyways.¡± He said, too fast to stop himself. Orchid¡¯s eyes flashed as she whipped around to stare into his eyes.


    ¡°Ah, in case you won¡¯t object to editing the manuscript I write about you, then?¡± She said with a saccharine venom in her words. Pug winced, the secondhand embarrassment of reading his biography uncomfortably potent, but reasoned it wouldn¡¯t be so bad spending his time working on his story with her. Assuming this little expedition wound up being story worthy at all.


    Satisfied Orchid was feeling a little less sullen, Pug set off for the lifts with Lina in tow. Though he worried about running into Kudzu and his gang, the pack of miscreants were nowhere to be found. This time of day the market was in full swing, stalls and storefronts busied by fairies on various errands, interspersed here and there with foreign visitors, though they were rare. Perhaps it was only natural, seeing as terrestrial species were unlikely to enjoy being suspended so high in the air, and avoided Pug¡¯s village like the plague. Gratitude towards his father washed over him again as he remembered he would have had to wade through this morass to pick up supplies if Erinus hadn¡¯t taken care of the shopping earlier. Thankfully the nearest set of lifts was in close proximity to the market, which were rarely used by the fairies themselves. Their wings allowed them to visit the forest below at any time, so the lifts were only for earthbound races, and their sparse visitation meant they saw little traffic.


    Stepping onto the lift, he was immediately rewarded with an insight into the plight of the flightless. Lina stood on the boardwalk behind him, pale-faced and licking her lips. Her hands were gripping the nearby railing with white knuckles as she stretched one foot out to tap the lift. Cocking his head Pug reached out to pull her onto the lift with him and Lina yelped, scurrying back.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t scared of heights, are you?¡± He asked sardonically, an amused lilt in his tone.


    ¡°Heights aren¡¯t my favorite thing, no, but I can get over that.¡± She muttered, eyeing him.


    ¡°Then what¡¯s the problem?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if it''s because you fairies are so carefree, or because you can all fly, but your safety standards leave something to be desired.¡±


    ¡°How do you mean?¡± Pug blinked, confused.


    ¡°Not only do you not have railings in most places, but the railings you do have are too flimsy! Look at it, it¡¯s made of twigs! And the rope is made of woven grass!¡± Lina was gesticulating wildly at this point, somewhere between fear and irritation.


    ¡°We live in a tree. Everything¡¯s made of twigs?¡± He said, deliberately obtuse. As Lina sputtered and raised her hand to object he lunged forward and snagged her, pulling her onto the lift.


    ¡°You know I didn¡¯t mean-¡± She broke off into an ululating cry as, before she could object, Pug hit the lever responsible for the lift¡¯s motion and sent them on their way down. Lina quickly wrapped her arms around his torso, gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut.


    ¡°You bastard!¡± Lina groaned.


    ¡°Gotta make up for lost time.¡± Pug said cheerfully. ¡°You know, since I woke up so late- hurk!¡± A distinctly unflattering noise forced its way out of his mouth as Lina squeezed his stomach even tighter. Mercifully her grip was below his wings, otherwise they¡¯d be crushed with her gnomish strength, however Pug was almost certain the pressure of her grip was causing his ribs to creak. He opened his mouth to try to calm her, or apologize, or anything, but found wasn¡¯t quite able to inhale enough to speak.


    So it was the pair made quite the comedic duo as they descended, much to the delight of the ground guards below. They pointed and chuckled as the gnome went from pale to a deathly white while the fairy simultaneously went from red-faced to purple. After long enough Pug was fearful of passing out the lift touched down, depositing them onto the earth. Relieved Lina fell to her knees and grabbed handfuls of soil, bringing them to her face and enjoying their rich scent. Pug, on the other hand, braced himself against the trunk of the tree his people called home and took in great heaving breaths. Pug returned to normalcy first and, after laughing at Lina, approached the ground guards with her icy scowl on his back.


    ¡°Hey, you guys should have a wagon here for me? Dropped off by Erinus?¡±


    ¡°Aye, your Da left it with us this morning. I already sent one of the lads to fetch it for ye.¡± The captain, who was the older of the two guards, replied. It was rare for a fairy to ever reach a state one could describe as ¡®wizened¡¯, yet somehow this grizzled guardsman had reached it. Whether his apparent age was due to a glamor or an actual reflection of his age was anyone¡¯s guess, however Pug suspected a glamor seeing how none of the village elders were nearly so wrinkled.


    The head guard gestured behind himself, vaguely in the direction of the guard shack nearby. The wooden construction used to have stables built for visitors but, due to the wide variety of creatures used for transport by the small folk of the forest, it was rarely used and later torn down. In its place a large pen was built with high fencing in the hopes such an arrangement would allow visitors to house their wide range of eclectic mounts with little trouble. It was from the pen the wagon was retrieved, pulled by a long, sleek, furry creature.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t this a pleasant surprise! Slink, is that you?¡± Pug cried in delight.


    ¡°Say, if it ain¡¯t Pug! Just the cat I was lookin¡¯ for.¡± A voice cried back from the wagon. It suddenly increased in speed, sending the poor guard guiding it out of the pen scrambling. Pug cried out and lifted his arms, trying to slow the overeager marten.


    ¡°Hey now, be careful with that!¡± He yelled, not truly expecting his friend to heed him.


    The marten and accompanying wagon turned into a sliding stop, sending the wagon skidding in a wide arc. The guards at their post were displaced by the commotion, ducking for cover as the wagon whipped past. It miraculously came to a stop moments away from striking Pug, who stood unflinching. As soon as it came to a rest he leapt onto the side of the wagon and pulled back the sheet covering its contents, only relaxing when he saw it was all in good order.


    ¡°What in the Queen¡¯s name do you think you¡¯re doing, Slink?¡± He scolded.


    ¡°Relax Pug, my guy! I know how to handle myself around jalopy like this.¡±


    Pug saw Lina in the periphery of his vision as she recovered from her trembling and shaking, only to look at him with confusion and trepidation writ clearly on her face as he argued with Slink. Pug couldn¡¯t help but feel sympathy for the gnome, since Slink unabashedly emanated an aura of danger. Despite his cute rounded ears, shiny black eyes, and soft brown fur, she could see his sharp teeth flashing in his mouth as he spoke and his eyes flicking from one area to the next as though he was constantly on the hunt for prey. She stilled completely, even ceasing her breathing, as those hungry eyes stopped on her.


    ¡°Who¡¯s the dame? You finally gotta squeeze?¡± The creature¡¯s tone was light and cheery, but to anyone aside from Pug his deliberate accent rendered him opaque and difficult to understand.


    ¡°No, she¡¯s just a friend.¡± Pug laughed. ¡°She needs help finding someone, another friend of mine named Jet. What about you, what are you doing out this way?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right, I¡¯m in a bit of a bind!¡± Slink said urgently. ¡°The boss¡¯ brat up and vanished, and he¡¯s got us out here like a bunch of private dicks lookin¡¯ for the kit. I was hopin¡¯ you¡¯d be willin¡¯ to pitch in and help me find ¡®im.¡±


    ¡°Normally I¡¯d be more than happy to Slink, but I¡¯ve got a prior commitment.¡± Pug replied, waving towards Lina. ¡°We are headed over to Baba though, she might be able to help you.¡±


    ¡°Woman gives me the heebie-jeebies, but if you¡¯re gonna be there then it¡¯s worth a shot.¡± Slink mumbled, half-lidded eyes glaring suspiciously in the direction of Baba¡¯s hut.


    Pug looked to Lina and arched his brow, as if asking for permission. She clearly wanted to say no, her skepticism writ clearly upon her face. Finally she met Pug¡¯s eyes, a question in her gaze. Pug nodded his head, reassuring her and she gave a tentative nod in return, pulling herself to her feet before dusting her hands off on her trousers. Pug smiled at her and then to Slink, gesturing back at the nervous lady.


    ¡°Alright, it¡¯s settled then! I have to say, it¡¯s going to be much easier getting to Baba¡¯s with you pulling the wagon. Before we set off, let me introduce you two. Slink this is Lina. Lina, Slink.¡±


    The two nodded to each other, the marten taking in Lina¡¯s wariness with wry amusement. Pug apologized to the guards for all the commotion as they set off. Lina spent the time getting to know the new addition to their party. It was slow going as the pine marten seemed to simply devolve into madness at random times, spewing heavily accented slang the gnome had, to her great benefit, never before been exposed to. When this happened she would look to Pug for help but the fairy would just smirk irritatingly and ignore her.


    ¡°So how¡¯d a doll like you meet up with an egg like him?¡± Slink asked, another perfect example of his confounding words. She understood how she could be related to a doll, but what made Pug an egg? Lina and Pug were both walking alongside him rather than riding in the cart in an attempt to spare him some effort. It was due to this quirk of positioning Slink got to enjoy Lina¡¯s confusion and Pug¡¯s scowl at the same time. A wicked grin formed on the marten¡¯s face, though only Pug knew him well enough to tell.


    ¡°To answer your question, i-if I understand you right, my missing friend actually introduced me to Pug. They met while they were both out exploring the forest, and Jet regularly enlisted Pug into helping us during our outings. His wings are a boon when it comes to gathering ingredients.¡±


    ¡°That sounds about right. This sap would help anybody with a pulse!¡± Slink cackled.


    Pug let the two go on like this for a time, trading stories of their mutual friend aiding them in their endeavors, though Slink notably kept the details of his adventures sparse. Pug was glad to see Lina open up a bit to the marten, though her trepidation seemed to never fully leave her. Slink, while a bit of a rapscallion, was all in all a good guy. The most impressive proof of this was the marten¡¯s assistance in pulling the wagon, and thanks to this act of charity they made good progress along the trail to Baba¡¯s, which was barely wide enough to accommodate the wagon. The forest around them was in good spirits today, with small animals dashing to and fro and birds chirping merrily in the distance. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves in the canopy above them, and Pug took a moment to close his eyes and enjoy the birdsong. In moments the ambient noise around them faded out into tense silence, the fairy¡¯s focus on the sounds around them suddenly serendipitous. Of course the breeze persisted, as did Lina and Slink¡¯s chattering, but the small game of the forest had gone deathly still.


    Pug raised his hand in warning, though Slink noticed the change in atmosphere almost as soon as he did. Lina, a veteran when it came to traveling with Pug, understood immediately, her mouth shutting with a clack mid sentence. Pug narrowed his eyes and panned his vision back and forth, Slink and Lina looking about warily as well. After a few seconds all three looked at each other, grim expressions confirming none among them could identify the source of the disturbance.


    Pug reached into the wagon and withdrew their weapons while Lina hastened to free Slink from the harness attaching him to the wagon, working swiftly despite her evident discomfort being so close to the marten. Once she was done Slink shook himself, as if dismissing the weight of the wagon, and dashed away silently. The path they were on wrapped around a large tree up ahead, and Slink crept forward in the shadow of the tree, peaking past it cautiously. Following, Pug tossed Lina her satchel and wooden cudgel. She likely would have preferred a shovel or pick, which were familiar to her and devastating weapons if employed well, but she had failed to bring any and the fairies had little need to dig or mine.


    The two crept up behind Slink, who was quivering with a barely restrained urge to bolt. Peering past his furred friend, it took only moments for Pug to focus in on the source of his distress. The forest opened up into a small clearing here, with the path skirting the outside. Almost directly across the clearing from them was a fallen tree, pitted and rotted and mossy with time. Cowering in the shadow of the trunk was a marten kit. The small animal looked fragile and afraid, and was perhaps only just barely old enough to see by Pug¡¯s estimation. Lina almost burst out from behind the tree herself upon seeing the helpless child, but Pug held her back.


    ¡°The forest is still too quiet, and clearing is wide open.¡± He explained to her questioning gaze. ¡°We¡¯ll move around the edge of the clearing, to be safe.¡±


    ¡°Plus the kid is usually pretty rambunctious. Somethin¡¯ must¡¯ve scared him stiff to have him cowerin¡¯ like .¡± Slink added, keeping a concerned eye on the kit.


    In some stroke of ill fortune, however, the kit saw Slink peering about around the tree and his face broke into a bright smile. The kit broke out into a sprint straight towards them, taking him into the open. Cursing, Slink broke out into a sprint and took off for the smaller marten. Lina and Pug were taken completely by surprise, with the latter managing to grab onto Slink¡¯s pelt at the last possible moment, causing him to be yanked off of his feet and whipped along as he was pulled away by the frantic marten. Lina recovered quickly but found herself too slow to hitch a ride as well, instead sprinting along behind her companions as her breathing devolved into huffing and puffing.


    The clearing remained mercifully quiet other than the soft sound of Slink¡¯s paws against the turf, and the noticeably louder thudding of Lina¡¯s booted feet. Pug availed himself of the opportunity and pulled himself atop his friend so he could look around, an act Slink would have vigorously complained about in any other situation, the proud carnivore resenting being made a mount. Rubbing his shoulder, which ached from taking all of the stress of clinging to Slink, he craned his neck too and fro. At first the fairy couldn¡¯t see anything, but a horrid feeling made itself known in his gut before creeping up his spine. Tilting his head to look above them he was startled to see a massive owl bearing down on them, its silent wings spread wide and its brutal talons already poised to strike. Its yellow eyes were fixated on Slink and Pug, and with dreadful certainty Pug knew that this creature was what the kit had been hiding from. It seemed the owl had decided a fully grown marten would do more to sate its hunger, particularly if it managed to snag a fairy as part of the deal, for it was completely disregarding the kit. Though perhaps it simply intended to crush them before turning its attention back on the marten child.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    With no time to plan Pug did his best to warn his friend, crying out as he leapt off of his furred back. He felt Slink¡¯s body twist as he turned to see what had alarmed Pug, but the fairy had no time to wait for his assistance. Instead he beat his wings hard, and launched himself towards the owl in a wide curve, his spear at the ready. The owl, caught off guard by the smaller creature¡¯s ferocity, decided to take the fairy out first. It banked slightly to meet the fairy head on, though even with its course correction neither of them were properly positioned for the clash. Pug, unable to get his spear properly angled, found his weapon simply skittering off the rough skin of the owl¡¯s feet. Likewise the owl did not manage to pierce Pug with any talons, though the edge of his clawed foot still struck the fairy, buffeting him and sending him careening to the forest floor. Pug struck the ground with a rough thud and rolled a fair distance before coming to a rest on his back.


    The owl looked around wildly for Slink, close enough to the ground now to be threatened by the vicious little predator. Much to its surprise, the marten hadn¡¯t stuck around to help his friend. Rather, Slink had run to the kit and snatched him up in his mouth by the nape of his neck, lugging the kit back into the safety of the tree hollow. It flapped its wings with frustration, about to set off after the martens. It had a vanishingly small chance to catch them, however Pug was one who preferred to stack the odds in his favor. He quickly flipped his grip on his spear and threw it at the owl, bouncing it harmlessly off the avian¡¯s thick feathers, though it still fulfilled its purpose and brought the bird¡¯s attention back to Pug. Its head snapped around in that unnatural way owls did, its too-wide eyes full of irritation as it regarded the battered fairy. Pug, still trying to catch his breath after being thrown to the ground, was breathing raggedly and unable to make an escape for himself. Deciding to rid itself of an irritant, the owl rounded on Pug.


    Swooping around, it snapped at Pug with its beak. The viciously cruel implement was moments from eviscerating Pug when the fairy let his fear-weak knees go out from under him, sending him into a loose, floppy roll. His would-be assailant passed overhead, wind whistling through its beak as it snapped shut. Pug wasn¡¯t out of the woods yet, for despite its apparent bulk when compared to beings like Pug and Slink, the owl made an agile mid-air correction and attempted to tear at the fairy once more.


    So focused was the owl on Pug that it came as no small shock when a feminine battlecry rang out. The owl, having missed Lina since she was so far behind and perturbed at the thought of yet another nuisance to deal with, turned his head to assess the new threat. In a stroke of ill luck, the predator turned its face right into a flask full of some vile fluid mixture. The flask struck it on its beak and broke open and the liquid inside, upon contact with the air, ignited in a reaction was more light than heat, producing a blindingly brilliant flash and a crack of sound sent the owl reeling.


    Using the momentary distraction, the stout gnome slid to a stop beside the owl, putting all of her running momentum into a swing of her cudgel. Twisting her hips and leveraging every bit of muscle she had, the gnome swung her weapon into the bird¡¯s legs, and was rewarded with a snapping sound as the rather delicate bones there crumpled under gnomish strength. The bird let loose a keening screech and flapped its wings, pushing itself away from this new threat. It blinked its eyes rapidly, but the spots were slow to fade from eyes meant to be keen in the dark of night. Slink, rushing back across the clearing now to assist his allies now that the kit was secure, issued a challenging snarl to compliment Lina¡¯s shrill battlecry. Deciding it wasn¡¯t quite hungry enough for this, the owl let loose a keening moan and took off, beating its large wings rapidly. Conjuring a storm of air with its departure, the onrush of wind was strong enough to blind and halt its assailants as it took to the sky.


    On the ground Lina stumbled over to Pug, who was still struggling to stand. The impact had left him unable to pursue the owl even if he had wanted to, a large bruise already spreading its way across his chest and the breath only now beginning to return to his lungs. Lina gave him a rough once over, all the while keeping her eye on the sky in case the owl returned. Her demeanor was tense and rigid, prompting Pug to speak to alleviate the tension.


    ¡°What was it you threw at the owl?¡± Pug asked, partly to distract and partly from genuine curiosity.


    ¡°An alchemical concoction reacts violently with air. Jet discovered it a few moons ago.¡± Lina said tersely, her mouth twisting with remembered discomfort. ¡°Your friend¡¯s servants got me whatever supplies I asked for.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t like having someone to boss around? You seemed to enjoy ordering Jet about.¡± Pug laughed, grateful to see Lina¡¯s tension melt into a scowl.


    ¡°Jet needs a little guidance, or he¡¯ll get himself killed.¡± She retorted, prompting a genuine chuckle from Pug, delivered with winces as the motion agitated the bruise on his chest. Jet was the kind of gnome to lose himself in his interests, oblivious to the world and dangers around him. In Pug¡¯s opinion, which he kept to himself, it was perhaps just as likely that Jet was engrossed in some research or project as it was that he¡¯d actually been kidnapped.


    Slink trotted over to check on the fairy and though Pug was on his feet by the time he arrived, apparently the marten wasn¡¯t confident in his friend¡¯s ability to travel. Slink dashed off to the wagon, weaseling himself into the wagon¡¯s harness. Pulling it was slow and uncomfortable without somebody to properly fit him in the harness, but he was able to pull it to Pug¡¯s side in short order. Together Tourmaline and Slink convinced him to ride in the wagon, though Pug felt they were perhaps worrying too much.. Dutifully the first thing he did was check the offering was intact before settling in.


    ¡°Thank you for bringing the wagon this far, Slink.¡¯ Pug coughed. ¡°I know you don¡¯t have any more reason to go to Baba¡¯s since you found the kid, but I¡¯d appreciate it if you would bring us the rest of the way.¡±


    ¡°¡®Course Pug, I¡¯d be happy to. Especially considering you almost got bumped off saving my bacon, see?¡± Slink said with a wry grin.


    Slink set off, slowly at first so as to not jostle Pug though it wasn¡¯t long before the fairy prodded him to speed up. Lina doubted she had become an expert in marten mannerisms in the brief time she¡¯d known Slink, but it seemed to her the marten felt a little guilty. He¡¯d constantly crane his neck around to look at Pug, earning himself a sharp reprimand when in his distraction he drew the wagon over a rock and nearly bounced the fairy out of the back of the wagon. Lina walked behind them, doing her part to keep an eye on him. His new injuries were stacked on the bruising and swelling from the night before, leaving Pug looking decidedly discolored.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to help me, Pug.¡± She said, voice quavering as guilt and anxiety finally surfaced within her. ¡°I¡¯m not sure you can anymore. We¡¯re not even a full day into our journey and you already need to recuperate.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay Lina, half of this isn¡¯t even from the owl. Besides, the Wylde is dangerous and you¡¯ll need a friend out there. Anyways, these bruises won¡¯t be much of a concern soon.¡± He assured her, a wave of the hand dismissing her concerns.


    ¡°What¡¯s supposed to mean?¡± She asked, confused.


    ¡°Baba¡¯ll make him right as rain, Lina.¡± Slink cut in with confidence. ¡°She¡¯s a wise woman.¡±


    Lina bit her tongue at their vague and unhelpful explanation. Realistically there wasn¡¯t much could be done to get Pug back into good shape in a reasonable time frame. Despair began to creep in, her thoughts were taking dark paths as she wondered whether or not she would be able to locate Jet without Pug¡¯s help. She was mercifully interrupted by the arrival of the kit, who slammed into Slink hard enough to cause the larger marten to stumble.


    ¡°Watch it Leaps! We¡¯ve got a delicate package in the back of this crate.¡± Slink chided.


    ¡°Thorry Thwink.¡¯ The kit, Leaps, said with a lisp even Lina had to admit was cute despite her misgivings.


    ¡°Just stick close to me kiddo. We''ve gotta get my friend here where he¡¯s going and then I¡¯ll get you home to your pa.¡±


    ***


    Slink took the rest of the trip easy, his worrying over Pug abating somewhat as he refocused on the kit, making sure the rambunctious child didn¡¯t get himself into any more trouble. Thankfully Leaps seemed far more interested in hanging out with Slink, telling a grand story about how he was nearly accosted by the owl while he was out adventuring. Slink kept his pace slow, reducing the strain on Pug and helping his short-legged companions keep up with him, allowing Lina to remain at the rear of the wagon and keep an eye on Pug, who had long since ceased chiding her about her worrying. As she did her mind began to wander and a question she¡¯d had when she was first introduced to Slink occurred to her.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to ask, and I¡¯m sorry if this is rude, but how exactly are you guys named?¡± She blurted out.


    ¡°Say, what do you mean by that?¡± Slink asked over his shoulder.


    ¡°Well the gnomes in my village are all named after gemstones. I was wondering what it was with martens. It seems like you¡¯re named after¡­ verbs, I guess?¡± She finished nervously as Slink stopped and turned to stare at her. After enough of a pause to make her worry she¡¯d said something rude, Slink belted out a laugh.


    ¡°Mellow out Lina, I¡¯m not gonna get sore over a goofy question like .¡± Slink chuckled. ¡°Slink is just a nickname. My full name is Slinks-Through-Shaded-Boughs in the common tongue. It''s a little long though, so people call me Slink.¡±


    "That''s interesting, and your friend there?¡± She nodded to the kit.


    ¡°I¡¯m Weaps-Bwanch-To-Bwanch!¡± Leps slurred proudly. Lina smiled at the overeager kit.


    ¡°Well, aren''t you an articulate little guy.¡± She cooed, earning a goofy wide grin from the kit.


    ¡°Yeah, they sure grow up fast. Only last week did this one¡¯s eyes open, and in a few more he¡¯ll be a regular goon for the family.¡±


    Lina smiled, unsure of what Slink was trying to say but sympathizing with his plight. She heard from her parents all the time that she had grown too fast, and it seemed this experience was relatively universal. She was at a loss on how to continue the conversation, but her preoccupation with her awkwardness vanished as the underbrush fell away to reveal what she assumed was their destination. Lina couldn¡¯t help but gaze in wonder at the sheer size of the home they were approaching.


    A short distance in front of them sat a small river island, nestled in the bifurcation and rejoining of a stream. The river itself was not overly large, though it would be dangerous to any of their party if they were to ford it unprepared. Thankfully a bridge was placed over the river on both sides of the islet, allowing for a full crossing. The bridges themselves were wide enough for several wagons like their own to cross side by side, and was only the beginning. Though it was simple with wooden walls and thatched roof, the cabin in front of them was many times larger than any single building Lina had ever seen, looming over them even from this distance. Planters in front of the cabin grew a variety of herbs and vegetables, and in an open window a pie sat cooling. The fact the pie was large enough to house a gnomish family in comfort was not lost on Lina.


    Their entire group was tense as they made their way across, footsteps resounding against the wood. The singing of the birds and merry babbling of the river beneath them did nothing to relax Lina, who was wondering exactly what she had gotten herself into. Leaps was also unnerved, crowding into Slink and causing the larger marten to stumble over him occasionally. Slink himself was the most relaxed, though tension still kept him taut and poised to run, and as they moved from the bridge onto the stepping stones leading up to the door he called out.


    ¡°Meat wagon here! Get your meat before it expires, Baba!¡± He yelled, smirking as Lina shot him a dirty look. Before she could chide him the massive door to the cabin shifted open, and a literal giant strode forth, footsteps resounding through the earth beneath their feet. The giant in question was a woman, with gray hair and wizened, wrinkled skin. She squinted down at them for a moment before a look of recognition flashed across her face and she smiled.


    ¡°Ah Slink! Ever the joker, aren¡¯t you?¡± She crooned. Her voice was probably weak compared to other beings her size, but Lina found it to be thunderous.


    ¡°And who are your friends?¡± she inquired.


    ¡°I¡¯d love to explain, Baba, but our mutual friend here is hurt, and he needs your help.¡±


    Baba frowned at and slowly lowered herself to get a better look at the wagon, her old bones audibly creaking. Her knees in particular were piercingly loud, and a grimace of pain worked its way across her face, but she persevered and peered intently into the back of the wagon. Seeing the fairy laid up inside, she let out a concerned cry that set Lina¡¯s ears to ringing.


    ¡°Pug! What happened to you my boy!¡± She fretted. The ruckus brough Pug back to reality, turning to meet her concerned gaze with eyes fogged up with pain and fatigue.


    ¡°Hey Baba. We got into a little tussle with an owl on our way here. He wanted to snack on Slink, and I wasn¡¯t having it.¡± He grinned.


    Baba tutted disapprovingly and scooped the party and their wagon up in her hands. Lina clung to the side of the wagon as her booted feet sank slightly into Baba¡¯s skin, soft with age. Leaps clambered up on top of Slink, who dangled helplessly from the harness that attached him to the wagon. Confident in her grip, Baba spun on her heel in a maneuver that was perhaps too graceful for her apparent age, and brought the lot of them inside with a series of long strides.


    The inside of the house was well maintained, from what Lina could see. A fire crackled happily in the fireplace, and various herbs hung about to dry. A table dominated the room, with various utensils, items, and foodstuffs scattered about its top haphazardly. Baba set them on the table beside a massive mortar and pestle, and Lina had a sudden, silly fear the giant was going to grind them into dust. Rather than doing something so horrific, Baba turned and grabbed a shallow pan from its place against the wall, sliding it onto a grill sitting in the fireplace. She took a bucket and hastened outside, returning in moments with river water which she added to the pan. Fluttering about, the elderly woman grabbed several ingredients from shelves on the walls, as well as cuttings from the herbs hanging about. She tossed them into the mortar and pestle and began grinding away, the motion so brisk it shook the table and brought Lina to her knees.


    Once the giant was satisfied with her work she turned and added it to the cauldron, causing it to go through a rapid change in colors, shifting from one to the next faster than the eye could follow before settling into a vibrant green. Lina thought as an alchemist she should understand at least some of what the giant was doing, but watching the Baba taste test the concoction before adding in pinches of several other ingredients left the gnome thinking this was something outside of alchemy. A final taste of the brew left Baba satisfied, and she pulled the pan off of the fire just as it began to boil. She set it carefully on the table near the party before turning and grabbing a nearby lid.


    Lina was about to inquire as to what the mysterious giant was doing, and precisely how it would help Pug, when Baba turned and snatched Pug from the back of the wagon. Lina protested but was stopped by Slink, who curled his tail around her to hold her back. This halted the gnome just long enough for Baba to plop Pug into the pan she had just taken off the fire and put the lid atop it. Lina yelled wordlessly at this development and struggled against Slink¡¯s tail until the marten was forced to reach over and grasp her by the shoulders to keep her from running at the pan, but didn¡¯t stop her from screaming at the giant.


    ¡°I thought you were going to help him!¡± She screamed, tears beginning to form in her eyes.


    ¡°Oh no deary, I¡¯m so sorry. I should have explained.¡± Baba said, a soothing tone in her voice. ¡°Think of it like an herbal bath, or a sauna. He¡¯s going to rest there for a bit and absorb the healing vapors.¡±


    ¡°A sauna?¡± Lina snarled incredulously.


    ¡°Yes, a sauna! Have you never been? You must go at least once.¡±


    Lina was about to snap at the giant, recklessly forgetting the discrepancy in their sizes in her anger, when the lid of the pan began to jiggle and clatter in place. After a few moments of apprehension, the lid to the pan slid aside and a burst of fragrant steam billowed forth. Two pale arms sprouted up over the lip of the pan, glistening with moistures and scrabbling for purchase against the metal. Eventually they took hold and Pug was able to lever himself up before crossing his arms on the lip of the pan and setting his weight on them. It looked, for all the world, like the fairy was taking a relaxing dip in a pool. Lina felt a pressure grow behind her eyes as she regarded her clearly maddened fairy friend.


    ¡°Get the hell out of there before you cook, you loon!¡± She sputtered.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright Lina, this isn¡¯t the first time Baba¡¯s had to slap me into one of these baths.¡± He said, energy returning to his voice.


    In fact, to Lina¡¯s amazement, the ¡®herbal bath¡¯ as they called it seemed to be working miracles on the fairy. Already his blackened eyes and bruised face were clearing, returning to a normal coloration before her very eyes. He seemed to move easier as well, as evidenced by the fairy pulling himself along the rim of the pan to face Baba. His wings fluttered slowly but happily as he faced the giant. As he did Baba returned with a small pastry she set in front of Lina and the martens, which she gestured for them to eat.


    ¡°Sorry to put you out Baba.¡± Pug apologized, chastened.


    ¡°Oh it¡¯s fine, little one. If I wasn¡¯t taking care of all the strays and miscreants wound up on my doorstep I¡¯m sure I¡¯d go mad from boredom.¡±


    ¡°Who are you calling a miscreant!¡± Slink cried through a mouthful of pastry, offended.


    ¡°Yeah, I was being quite heroic, if you think about it.¡± Pug defended himself.


    ¡°What¡¯s so heroic about violating the natural order?¡± Baba said, firmly but not unkindly. Both Pug and Slink sobered at and while what she said piqued her curiosity, Lina was far more interested in the food she¡¯d been provided. Mollified by seeing Pug healthy again, she promptly dug into the treat provided by Baba, and was outpacing both martens in her snacking campaign.


    ¡°Owls eat martens, boys. While I¡¯m glad you saved the kit you should be aware you flew in the face of the natural world in doing so. There will be repercussions.¡± She warned.


    ¡°I know Baba, but I¡¯d do it again if I had to.¡± Pug said, understanding but clearly not repentant. Baba sighed but accepted .


    ¡°Now I know Pug¡¯s in good hands, I¡¯m gonna take Leaps here back to his dad.¡± Slink said, clearing the air of the momentary awkwardness.


    ¡°Alright Slink, you take care of yourself out there.¡± Pug said, sad to see the marten go.


    They said their goodbyes to the two martens, who jumped the gap from table to window sill with ease and dropped out of view. Baba walked to the window and watched them go, ensuring they were safe at least as far as she could see. After a time she nodded in satisfaction and turned back to Pug and Lina. Lina was feeling a little exposed now she and Pug were alone with the giant and wished the martens had stayed, surprised to find them less frightening than Baba. The old giant settled into a chair before continuing the conversation.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suspect you came here just to get your booboos treated.¡± She teased. ¡°What did you need from me?¡±


    ¡°First thing¡¯s first Baba, we have to do this the right way.¡± Pug said, clearing his throat. ¡°We have an offering for you, Elder, if you would be so kind as to accept it.¡±


    Baba nodded and reached over to the wagon, pulling the sheet covering it free. Inside was nestled what Lina would have called a giant strawberry tart, if she didn¡¯t have the pastry Baba had set before her to compare. It took up nearly the entire back of the wagon, and Baba gently fitted a nail beneath it to pry it up from the snug fit. Taking it in hand, the pastry seemed miniscule to her, though Lina knew it would have taken hPug and herself at least half a day to eat it by themselves. Baba opened her mouth and threw it inside, consuming the entire treat in one bite. She seemed to enjoy the taste, cupping a hand to her cheek and chewing slowly to savor it.


    ¡°That was the offering?¡± Lina blurted. ¡°I thought it was something way more important than .¡±


    ¡°What could possibly be more important than sweets, child?¡± Baba joked. Apparently satisfied with her offering, she turned her eyes to Pug. ¡°Your offering was satisfactory, little one. In honor of the agreement between your people and I, you may beseech of me one favor.¡±


    Baba¡¯s words seemed to have a formal weight to them, and Pug nodded back gravely.


    ¡°My friend Lina is looking for a missing friend. We were hoping you can show us the path to him, wise elder.¡±


    ¡°I will render aid as best I can within the rules of our compact.¡± She intoned. She turned to Lina and spoke to her in a more casual tone then. ¡°Alright little gnomeling, tell me exactly what happened and we¡¯ll see if Baba can¡¯t work something out.¡±


    And so for the second time in as many days Lina found herself explaining the situation back at the gnomish village and her missing friend. She explained what the myconid had told them, and her father¡¯s failure to find Jet. Though she thought she had drained these wounds last time she had told her story, she found herself choked up and spilling everything. Her long, lonely trek to the fairy village, hoping her parents weren¡¯t worrying about her, even up to Pug and Slink being attacked. Baba listened attentively and did not interrupt her, until she wound up choking up towards the end. Only then did Baba reach out and stroke Lina¡¯s hair.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright little one.¡± Baba murmurs as the gnome begins to relax. ¡°I¡¯ll help you find your friend. Tell me, did you bring anything of Jet¡¯s?¡±


    ¡°No, I didn''t think to. Is it going to be a problem if I didn¡¯t?¡± Lina asks worriedly.


    ¡°It would have been helpful to get his scent, so to speak, but I should be able to find him regardless. Go ahead and pluck a few of your hairs and drop them into the pan would you?¡± Baba asked sweetly.


    Lina complied, though she was confused. As she did so Baba turned and plucked Pug from the bath, which had grown lukewarm at this point. He gave a half-hearted yowl of displeasure which was quickly silenced as she set him down in the midst of a fluffy towel to dry. Lina hastened over and dropped her hair over the lip of the pan into the fluid inside. She saw now after Pug had soaked in it for a time it had turned into a sky-blue. The addition of her hair sent another spasmodic flickering of color through the liquid, after which it settled into a pleasant lavender. Tourmaline, disquieted by the mysterious concoction, scurried over to Pug¡¯s towel and sat next to him. Baba, at least, seemed satisfied with the coloration, and lifted the pan to her lips, drinking the whole pan in one gulp. Lina gagged as she did, and even Pug looked uncomfortable.


    ¡°Baba, that¡¯s really gross!¡± He whined.


    ¡°Hush up now. I don¡¯t want to be drinking your bathwater either, but you fairies have all the right components to make a good scrying potion, and I¡¯ll not let it go to waste.¡±


    As she spoke Baba¡¯s eyes began to emit a thick mist fell heavily from her face, and she tilted her head back to look at the ceiling. Pooling the mist in her eye sockets hid her eyes, and accentuated by a glowing light emanating from her pupils. Lavender light filled the mist and then broke through, painting the ceiling in swirling eddies and rolling banks of color. Something in the way the colors moved caused Lina and Pug to grow nauseous and both were forced to look away, though not before they saw the beginnings of shapes coalescing in the light. Baba¡¯s voice underscored the event with a deep, guttural humming and her fingers drummed out a rapid staccato rapidly descended into an impossible tempo. It set their teeth on edge, and the two were about to break and run when the noise calmed.


    They looked up and saw Baba gasping quietly. They waited for her to calm before slowly crossing the tabletop, approaching the giant cautiously. Once Baba caught her breath and relaxed she opened her eyes, which had mercifully returned to normal, and addressed them.


    ¡°Your friend is still alive.¡± She stated breathlessly.


    ¡°Thank the Queen, where is he?¡± Lina said urgently. Pug placed a hand on her shoulder to restrain her eagerness, which she shook loose almost immediately.


    ¡°¡­ I do not know.¡± Baba said, confused.


    ¡°What do you mean you don¡¯t know Baba? You¡¯ve never not known.¡± Pug sounded worried as he voiced his concerns as Lina nodded along.


    ¡°Something is hiding him from my sight, though I know not what. What I do know is the humans your father suspected were the ones who took him.¡± Baba said, meeting Lina¡¯s eyes. ¡°And I know where they will be next.¡±


    ¡°Where Baba? As soon as you tell us we¡¯ll head out.¡± Pug stood and stretched as he spoke, wringing out his clothes to attempt to dry them.


    ¡°They will be at Hummingbird Hearth in a fortnight. I must warn you, if you fail to catch them there, it seems likely you will never see your friend again.¡±


    Despite the seemingly urgent nature of the scrying Baba did and Lina¡¯s desire to get started as soon as possible, Baba insisted they stay long enough for Pug to dry out. While they waited she was kind enough to provide additional supplies and even shared some alchemical reagents with Lina before sending them on their way. The kindly giant was clearly fond of Pug, providing assistance Lina suspected fell outside of her agreement with the fairies and their village. Pug, sitting by the fire which was a roaring blaze when compared to his size, dried out relatively quickly and set out as soon as he was able to fly again.


    The two of them departed, bidding Baba a fond farewell was slightly marred with trepidation and worry. Pug in particular looked perturbed, and when she asked he explained Baba had never had problems with her magic before. Tourmaline didn¡¯t really grasp the severity of the situation, but if it was enough to worry Pug then it was enough to gnaw at the pit of her stomach. The pair remained quiet for a long while after the house disappeared into the forest behind them.


    Baba watched the tiny duo go and sighed in worry. It was rare for something to be able to thwart her scrying, and she couldn¡¯t help but worry about what, precisely, the two of them were walking into. There was little more she could do for them, despite her concern, due to the compact allowed her to live in peace here with the creatures of the woods. Baba brought her pie in and shut the window, setting it down before going to sit in her rocker and lose herself in her thoughts. The pie, once anticipated, sat uneaten on the table as she fret through the night.

 Chapter 5

    Jet had decided nothing could be worse than the inside of a human¡¯s rucksack. He was almost eager to meet this dreaded ¡°Merchant¡± character at this point, if only for the agony end. Hours of being rocked back and forth as the humans walked, rather erratically in Jet¡¯s opinion, had left Jet sickly and weak. He had already vomited twice, the second time thankfully producing only bile. The humans, now seeming to Jet to be very experienced in the art of kidnapping, had swaddled the cage in cloth to mute any sound he made. While may have protected their belongings, it left Jet trapped in a humid, swelteringly hot, enclosed space with his own vomit. The fumes, stench, and stuffiness worked together to leave the gnome feeling faint, the resulting torpor leaving the gnome in a near comatose state.


    In this manner the minutes bled into hours beyond Jet¡¯s notice, for time all but stood still in his limited perception. After a time, half the day at least, the suffering was temporarily brought to a halt by the portly human¡¯s call to rest. It took some time for the giants to settle, however Jet could still discern the difference as the rhythmic clomping slowed and the direction of their movement changed. Finally the bag he resided in was set down, the top opened and the vomit covered parcel inside. The cloth wrap was removed gingerly, the human apparently none too thrilled at the prospect of handling the sodden material. Light flooded in, as well as fresh air, rejuvenating the wilting gnome even as he flinched away from the brightness.


    Disgusted by the vomit, sweat, and filth, the portly human called to the skinny one. Dutifully the lankier of the two approached with a waterskin. He stood at as far a distance as he could, squeezing the skin and spraying water into the cage, trying to clean the cage and Jet both in one fell swoop. Thinking quickly, Jet turned his face upwards to drink as much of the water as he could, almost whimpering as the spray abated. Hanging the cage from a tree branch with roughspun thread, the pair trundled off to tend to their needs. His decision to drink the water they used to clean him was wise, as they made no move to provide for him as they ate their meager meals and sipped from their waterskins. Jet''s stomach howled at the mere sight of food, so he ignored it in favor of soothing himself with the feeling of the sun on his skin and wind in his hair.


    It was all too soon the humans returned and wrapped the cloth, which had also been set out to dry, around the cage. The cloth, and Jet himself, were still damp, the leftover moisture making the humidity even more unbearable than before, carrying with it the acrid scent of vomit. Hardly enough time to brace himself, Jet was thrown to the floor as the horrid swaying motion began again. Jet, wanting nothing more than to take his mind off of his misery, listened in on the humans as they chattered back and forth. He kept his eyes half lidded and unseeing, as he knew fully closing them would only serve to make him more ill. As the humans spoke he painted each one in his mind¡¯s eye.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe our luck. I was certain we were going home empty handed.¡± The skinny one spoke, Jet recreating him from memory and the sound of his voice which was reedy and thin. He was probably not so gawky and odd-looking in reality, but Jet¡¯s ire at the lanky human meant he lent him an unfortunate aspect.


    ¡°I keep telling you Thom, the Merchant never steers us wrong!¡± The fat one blubbered, slimy words slithering past oily lips. Jet didn¡¯t remember if he had flapping jowls, but decided to give them to his mental image all the same.


    ¡°I hope this critter is worth a good bit of Dust.¡± Thom said, an antsy tone rising in his voice. While Jet was uncertain of what this Dust substance was, it was all the same clear the skinny one yearned for it.


    ¡°You know he never lets us want for Faerie Dust. I¡¯m sure the little one here will be worth a fair amount.¡± The fat man reassured, and Pug imagined he could hear the words blubbering past a mouth watering with want.


    Jet lost track of the conversation at this, his joy at their mental caricatures fading as the misery reached its peak. Idly he remembered each of the fairies he knew and couldn¡¯t say he remembered any of them being dusty, really. He thought for a moment they might have been grinding up fairies to get the dust, but quickly shot the idea down. The process would only net them fairy paste, if anything, and it wouldn¡¯t be usable for much of anything beyond meat patties. Besides, he was a gnome! It wasn¡¯t like they¡¯d get any fairy-dust for grinding him up. Unless they were too dumb to realize he wasn¡¯t a fairy at all, which he wouldn¡¯t put past the oafish giants.


    Jet heard little else of interest as the miles and hours crept past. Eventually a bit of excitement arose as his unwanted travel companions slowed. Jet harbored a small hope he¡¯d be freed for another bit of fresh air, but the arrival of a third, hitherto unheard, voice made it clear this stop was different than the previous. A pang of fear rang through Jet as he worried they¡¯d arrived at their destination, though a few moments of quiet listening dissuaded him of notion. The deference they showed to this third voice was mummery, nothing more than motions gone through to cover up their fear and caution as they endeavored to move past this obstacle.


    Realizing this, Jet did his level best to attract the attention of this third voice. His cries for help, if they could truly be called cries, were weak and hushed as he was unable to draw up the energy he needed to alert this new voice to his presence. The air in the pack was hot and heavy, almost wet with humidity at this point. Before long his calls died down, frustrated tears making themselves known as warmth stole into his eyes. He pressed his hands into them, tears stymied as he bemoaned the cloth muted him and made this cage such a hell.


    The third human finally allowed his captors to progress, muttering some vague dismissal at their backs as they scurried away. The heavyset one who carried the pack had somehow managed to hear Jet¡¯s cries for help, for he jabbed his elbow into the side of the pack and knocked Jet prone. Fiercely desperate, Jet cried out one final time. For a few moments he thought no one heard, until a cry sounded out and brought his captors to a halt. The voice was higher in pitch, more delicate. Jet would wager it was a woman, if humans trended as gnomes did. He could feel Gregor fidgeting nervously as he panted on the floor of the cage. Approaching footsteps sent his heart soaring, and he heard the feminine voice speak again.


    ¡®Stop there you two.¡± The voice said with notes of accusation. ¡°I¡¯d like to inspect your bag.¡±


    ¡°What seems to be the problem, Warden?¡± Gregor squeaked, voice trembling.


    ¡°I¡¯m quite certain I heard a noise from your pack.¡±


    ¡°A noise? There¡¯s nothing in any of our luggage that would make any noise.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to search all of your luggage. I distinctly heard it from your pack there.¡± The woman¡¯s voice was colored in shades of frustration, and in his mind¡¯s eye he could imagine her pointing out the pack he was in. ¡°Poaching is a rather serious offense.¡±


    Jet wasn¡¯t thrilled to be mistaken for an animal, but he¡¯d be whatever he needed to be to get himself out of this situation. He tried to sound off again but his throat, sore and worn by vomiting and his initial cries when his captors had taken them, only allowed for the faintest rasping.


    ¡°Go ahead and set down your bag, then step away.¡± Her tone was one of finality, and brooked no argument.


    The bag Jet was in shifted as it was unslung from Gregor¡¯s shoulders. It swayed as it hung from the human¡¯s hand, prompting another bout of nausea from the gnome. It seemed he didn¡¯t want to set it down, but left with no other option he brought it slowly to the ground. Jet could hear the approach of booted feet on stone, and then a sudden shift and faint light as the mouth of the bag was opened. Hope soared until a voice in the distance screamed. The hands which had begun to grip the cloth swaddled cage withdrew as the woman¡¯s attention was drawn elsewhere.


    The guard moved away, unknowingly leaving Jet in peril as they tried to ascertain the source of the scream. Jet could hear a commotion kick up in the distance, in the same direction the scream had come from. To his horror and dismay, the woman searching the bag swore and darted away, her running footsteps pursuing the source of the disturbance. Seeing their opportunity, one of his captors scooped up the bag in an abrupt, rough motion and set to running. For a time all Jet could perceive was pounding footsteps and harsh breathing as he was slammed around in his cage, being roughly introduced to every sharp edge and hard corner.


    So severe was the beating it seemed that Jet blacked out at some point, perhaps in a subconscious effort to spare himself more torment, for the next thing he knew they were stopped. The two humans -especially Gregor, he imagined- were breathing heavily. One of them knocked on something, presumably a door, and they waited for a few breathless moments before a creaking sound was heard and they were let inside. The humans were quiet still, catching their breath but doing little else as Jet massaged several spots on his body that were aching and bruised from being tossed about. All around them small sounds were being made, familiar to Jet somehow though he could place none of them. Without warning Jet was suddenly pulled from the pack and the cloth binding his cage was pulled away.


    Spots bloomed across his vision, as he was blinded by spears of sunlight piercing the dim light of the indoors, Jet eagerly gulped up fresh lungfuls of air. Wiping at his eyes, he cleared them enough to look at his surroundings. As his vision cleared he was tempted to paw at his eyes again to clear them, disbelieving his own eyes. At least now he knew what had sounded so familiar to him, for on shelves and tables, hanging from the ceiling and crowding the dark nooks and crannies of the floor all around him were cages. Every cage he could see housed fellow creatures of myth and magic, some of them of races Jet was familiar with, many of them strange and foreign to him. Pixies and sprites, wisps and salamanders. A nebulous shadow bounced along the bars in one cage, and across and above it what looked for all the world like a transparent ball of jelly wobbled forlornly. All of it lit by shafts of sunlight cutting through grime-covered windows, small rectangular things set high in the walls as though to discourage outside observance of the room.


    All of this was driven to the back of his mind as he regarded the man behind the counter, who watched him impassively as his cage was set on the countertop. Jet saw with the lower periphery of his vision as some unknown apparatus was withdrawn from beneath the counter. His curious nature yearned to investigate it, however he found his eyes fixated on the person before him, unable to look away. This man, who must be the one referred to by the humans as the Merchant, was strikingly handsome. Pale skin sat on high cheekbones, and wide gray eyes were framed by long lashes. His lips were perfectly formed, pale pink. Jet knew, though he knew not how he knew, any humanoid race, magical or mortal, would find the man striking. At the same time, Jet was terrified of him.


    His eyes, at first seeming to be doe-like and clear, were lifeless and cold. His lips, shapely and smooth, looked cold, hard and artificial. He showed no teeth in his smile, and an irrational part of Jet feared the creature before him had a mouth full of fish hooks in place of any normal formation. As his pale, thin fingers reached out and touched the cage, a deeply rooted and animalistic instinct in Jet sent him scurrying as far as he could away from the man.


    ¡°My apologies, little one.¡± The ¡®man¡¯ said, saccharine sweet words underlined with a vague, lazy gesture to their surroundings. ¡°Despite how long I¡¯ve done this, I forget how easily disquieted your kind are.¡±


    His words were clipped and perfectly enunciated. Jet felt as though the creature before him arrived at the words the same way you got the solution to an equation. You put together all the factors and variables, and you got an answer. In this way the smiling thing in front of Jet mimicked conversation, deducing what it needed to say without any interest in truly conversing. Jet¡¯s panic was diffused as the humans, who had been forgotten up to now, spoke and split his attention, though his eyes never left the thing before him.


    ¡°What do you think sir? He was right where you said he was.¡± Gregor said eagerly. Jet was disgusted and amazed they were able to stand so calmly before the beast. Even Thom, the weaker willed of the two, was brandishing a wide smile.


    ¡°Of course he was.¡± The Merchant chuckled, dry and fake. ¡°Though I am disappointed, there was supposed to be another, a female. Did she escape you?¡±


    The two humans looked at each other confused but Jet felt his breath catch in his throat. Normally he¡¯d have gone gathering samples with Tourmaline. How could he, this thing, even begin to suspect Tourmaline would be with him? Worry for his friend shot through him. Would they return for her as well?


    ¡°No sir, this one came out there alone.¡± Gregor said nervously, like a chastened child before his parents. The Merchant stared at him silently, the too-long silence causing a film of sweat to bead on Gregor¡¯s upper lip, before remembering it was supposed to appear to be human. At least was how it looked to Jet, as the thing shook itself slightly before plastering on a smile.


    "That''s alright, the sight isn¡¯t always accurate. This one will suffice.¡± It assured them. ¡°Now, onto the matter of your payment.¡±


    The Merchant turned, rooting around in a cabinet as the two human¡¯s eyes lit with a hellish sort of glee. Shortly the Merchant turned back around, a leather pouch stuffed near to bursting in each hand. Hunger reinforced and subsumed the glee, and Jet expected them to snatch the bags greedily as their bodies bent under the weight of their need. But they didn¡¯t. Rather, Gregor swallowed deeply before speaking.


    ¡°Are you sure? That¡¯s far more than usual.¡± He said, though his eyes ogled the pouches in a fashion could almost be described as lewd.


    ¡°Certainly. I prepared the reward for two specimens. In any case, I hope the bonus goes a long way towards consolidating our little arrangement here.¡± The Merchant said congenially, though Jet didn¡¯t miss how his eyes glittered darkly.


    Given permission, Thom and Gregor each darted forward and snatched the pouches away. While Gregor tucked his portion away into the same pack that had carried Jet here, Thom opened his pouch and reached inside. Jet was unable to see what was inside the pouch, but Thom withdrew his hand with his fingers pinched together. He tilted his head back and held his pinched fingers together above his face. He rubbed his finger and thumb against each other and a fine powder fell forth, as though he were spicing a meal. The powder fell onto his upturned face or, more accurately, into his open eyes. The last of the shimmering dust drifted onto his upturned eyes and Thom began to blink rapidly. Jet could see his eyes begin to dilate wildly until they seemed to be no more than twin pools of inky darkness, the pupils nearly eclipsing the iris. Not done yet, he stuck first his finger then his thumb into his mouth, by all appearances rubbing what vestiges remained on them into the soft flesh underneath his tongue. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°It''s good to see this batch is as much of a hit as the others.¡± The Merchant said dryly. Gregor gave Thom a scowl,nodding towards the Merchant when Thom couldn¡¯t comprehend the root of his displeasure.


    ¡°Sorry sir, it¡¯d been a bit for me. Sir¡± Thom said meekly. It looked like he tried to focus on the Merchant, but whatever he had just taken was working rapidly. A flush was entering his cheeks and a look of ecstasy stole across his face even as he struggled to fight it back.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do my utmost to reach out before you get desperate again. Until then, however, you two should go home and enjoy yourselves. I need to get my new guest settled in.¡± The pale imitation of a smile was turned upon Jet once again.


    As the thing spoke it stepped around the counter and began to usher the two humans out the door. Gregor was quick to comply, though Thom dawdled and gazed emptily into the distance, occasionally focusing on invisible points near to him before relaxing into the middle distance again. Gregor was forced to grab Thom by his arm and haul him bodily out of the building, the taller man hardly seeming to notice or care. The front door opened to dimming sunlight, Greg heaving his companion out onto the dirt outside where he fell sprawling. The last Jet saw of the two was Gregor helping his partner up with a look of frustration writ clearly on his face. Jet disliked the two humans and resented them for their trickery, but he could honestly say he was sad to see them go. He didn¡¯t want to be left alone with the Merchant.


    Speaking of, his new captor went about bolting the door to the building shut now the two humans were outside. He flipped several locks on the door, and even dropped a bar in place to hold it closed, much like you¡¯d see on big castle doors in picture books and fairy tales. Satisfied, the Merchant began to relax as he walked back to Jet, prompting the gnome to crawl back and press himself into the furthest reaches of the cage. For as the thing relaxed, it began to change.


    Like a fat man letting out his belly at the end of the day, the flesh on the Merchant began to droop and sag. It peeled away from the underlying bones and hung loosely. In some places the bones also sagged low, with sickening pops and muted crunches as they worked themselves free. It was especially evident in his cheekbones and his jaw, which flopped lopsidedly, hanging open with the tongue lolling out slightly. The left eye went lazy, rolling down and in. The right arm seemed to grow in length as well, giving the creature a gruesome aspect. As it reached the counter the changes seemed to stop, though did little to assuage Jet, who whimpered in fear, though he did not know it.


    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s much better.¡± The abomination sighed. ¡°Now, where to put you.¡± He brought the cage up to his one good eye, and gazed inside at Jet as he said this. It was then Jet, exhausted, hurting, and horrified, fainted before the creature¡¯s horrid slack-jawed smile.


    ***


    Thalia had finally achieved her dream, and it was turning out to be something of a bother. After years of work and study, and arguing with her parents, she¡¯d joined the Wardens. The illustrious force responsible for policing the capital city, and king¡¯s seat, Midburg. The intrepid professionals, the only guards she knew of who had aspirants attend schooling to join, handled everything within the walls, from customs at the port to murders in the slums. Since she was a child a fortuitous encounter with the Wardens had seen her aspiring to join their ranks, yearning deeply to put on one of their blue uniforms, crisply ironed until every seam was straight and there was not a wrinkle in sight. She had trained and studied twice as much as every other student in her class, until she was confident she could ace the entrance exam for the Warden¡¯s academy. Then, once she was in, she trained and studied all over again.


    Her efforts had hardly stopped once she won her admittance into the Wardens, instead they had accelerated. She surpassed every measure the academy had for her until she was finally graduated and put into service. Though her mother and father proclaimed how proud they were, she could see in their eyes they were worried and still not at all convinced that they wanted their daughter to pursue this path. Still, Thalia knew this was what she was meant for. She had donned her uniform for the first time, eager to solve crimes and unravel mysteries. She wanted to be a hero for another little boy or girl, just like Warden all those years ago was for her when he had returned her father¡¯s wares and saved her family from the poorhouse. Only¡­ she didn¡¯t get to do any of that.


    Thalia¡¯s dreams of investigating each crime to its end, of apprehending ne''er-do-wells and villains, died under a tide of mundane matters. She was made to patrol the market, man the guard stations where citizens could come for aid, though more often than not she found herself providing directions and chatting with the elderly. She broke up more bar fights and helped more lost children find their parents than she cared to remember. It wasn''t that she didn¡¯t find the work satisfying, it just wasn¡¯t as impactful as she had hoped. She resolved to do her job to the best of her ability, hoping one day she would move up to be an Inquirer, senior Wardens who actually worked investigations, talked to witnesses, and sussed out clues. It was somewhat disheartening to learn her dream was still further off, but with the habits she had built she persevered


    Finally, as days turned to months and months turned into three years, Thalia was given the chance to work under an Inquirer. A new drug was taking the slums of the city by storm, and they were already seeing mounting thefts and the beginnings of gang violence. The Inquirer¡¯s task force, overwhelmed, understaffed, and with no leads they opened recruitment to try and bolster their forces. Thalia had all but thrown herself at them. She was quickly given the blue cape that would signify her as a member of the Inquirer¡¯s troop, and though she was still considered a rookie by many she was brought into the fold. It was there she came to know the drug they were hunting was called ¡°Faerie Dust¡¯ and while it wasn¡¯t dangerous for the users in most cases, it was highly addictive. Want of the drug was driving the addicted to rob, burglarize, mug, and just generally pry money from the hands of citizens in whatever ways they could think of.


    It was at this moment, the height of her eagerness, she was crushed. Inquirer Reid, the officer in charge of the investigation, issued posts and duties to all the new recruits and Thalia found herself doing all sorts of menial work. She was sent across the city where she was instructed to grab office supplies, ferry reports, file evidence, and pull information from various archives. Thalia suspected the grizzled old Warden had little faith in her, despite her years as part of the Wardens, her spotless record of stellar performance. On the other hand, perhaps it could be her record and experience were the reason for her mistreatment. Maybe the grizzled old veteran, who had spent his entire life serving as a Warden, didn¡¯t trust this precocious upstart. Whatever the case,Thalia had been consigned to doing various odd jobs ever since. Today, however, was the worst of all. Today the city guard, commonly known as Skullcaps on account of the cervellieres they wore and professionally known as the Hounds, had notified them of some sort of incident by the western gate involving a man, who they swore was a Faerie Dust addict, and his wife.


    Though Thalia wasn¡¯t confident the Hounds knew a Faerie Dust addict from a drunkard, Reid had thought it worth looking into, though not enough to take anyone actually important to the investigation away from it. Therefore it was obvious Thalia was to be sent. She had just arrived at the gate, and was about to take the narrow and dingy alley she was told held the home of the suspect in question when she heard a distant, weak cry. Thinking a child was calling for help, she cast about her gaze only to see Old Moody at Westgate, slouched against the wall, talking to two men who had clearly just entered.


    One of the men was tall and whip thin, while the other was portly and sweaty and rather ill-tempered by the looks of him. Uncertainty gripped her for a moment as she failed to find the source of the cry, and she narrowed her eyes, focusing on what her ears were telling her. She heard the noise again, and though Moody seemed to either not hear it or not care it sounded very much like it was coming from somewhere near where he drooped himself lazily against the wall. Moody finally waved the two men on, clearly no longer amused by bothering passersby. As the two dingy looking strangers began to wander away, the fatter of the two reached back and struck his pack with an expression of fearful frustration


    Thalia was suspicious of the man¡¯s behavior, which was compounded with his near feral appearance that was commonly affected by the people in the slums. She called out to them and both men snapped their heads around to look at her, eyes wide. The pudgy one somehow seemed to sweat even more as she strode towards them, while the tall one looked ready to bolt. Old Moody had heard her call out, and though he looked confused he approached the pair with her. Thalia was confident they wouldn¡¯t attempt to run while flanked by a Warden and a Hound, despite Moody¡¯s infamous reputation for being unprofessional and lazy.


    ¡°Stop there you two.¡± She said in her best professional, yet kind voice. Despite what she suspected, until proven otherwise they were innocent citizens. ¡°I¡¯d like to inspect your bag.¡±


    ¡°What seems to be the problem, Warden?¡± The portly man sounded mouse-like and tense, all but confirming to Thalia he was guilty of something.


    ¡°I¡¯m quite certain I just heard a noise from your pack.¡± Thalia said, stifling a grin as she saw the tall one¡¯s eye twitch. She thought it likely they had a small animal in their pack, and neither looked to be a huntsman. Perhaps they were smuggling some wild animal to sell to a noble as a pet?


    ¡°A noise? There¡¯s nothing in any of our luggage that would make a noise.¡± They were becoming desperate, glancing over their shoulder as Moody loomed behind them. The old guard attempted to look as threatening as possible. He didn¡¯t want to be chasing them through alleys and such, after all. The sooner they gave up the sooner he could go back to lounging at his post.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to search all of your luggage.¡± Thalia felt the smile on her face grow sharp and a little wicked. ¡°I distinctly heard it from your pack there.¡±


    She pointed at the rucksack the man had slung across his shoulder, before adding, ¡°Poaching is a rather serious offense. Go ahead and set down your bag, then step away.¡±


    Despite looking like it was the last thing he wanted to do, the fat man slowly lowered his bag to the ground. As she approached Moody placed a hand on each of their shoulders and moved them back a few steps. She opened the bag, and was confronted by a cloth covered bundle. Deciding this was more than a little suspicious, she went to remove it when a scream pierced the relative silence of Westgate. A scream which issued forth from the very same cramped and shadowed alleyway she was initially called here to investigate.


    Emerging from the shade at the mouth of the alley was a scrawny, unkempt man. His eyes were red and puffy and his skin pallid, and it seemed as though he was wasting away as his skeletal collarbones and shoulder peaked through the neck of his shirt, which hung loosely on his frame. Despite how weak he looked, he was forcibly dragging a frumpy woman who was clutching at his waist, both arms wrapped tightly around him. The woman was presumably his wife, considering how she railed against him for spending every last coin of his pay on Dust, for going so far as to steal from her, and their children. She was yelling and crying, and the man was stoic faced and cold as he attempted to pry her loose with one hand while the other sheltered something against his abdomen, away from her clutches.


    Thalia was standing to step in when the woman finally broke his hold, and freed the contents of his cupped hand. Out spilled several silver coins which sparkled beautifully in the sun as they tumbled away from him. Additionally, a small pouch also flew free and as it did so its drawstrings loosened, opening the mouth of the bag and spilling a small amount of iridescent blue dust into the air. The now empty pouch tumbled lazily through the breeze until it settled onto the road in a poof of dust and detritus. There was a moment of silence, just long enough for Thalia to register the tension in the air, and then the man was atop his wife, striking at her with heavy blows and wailing as she cried out and held her hands up.


    ¡°What have you done you vile witch! Do you know what you just cost me? What I¡¯ve lost?¡± Might have been what he cried, Thalia thought, though she struggled to understand him past his animalistic rage and body-wracking sobs.


    Thalia and Moody both sprung into action, booted feet pounding across the cobble as they leapt on the man. His almost supernatural strength was made evident as each of them took an arm and they still had trouble keeping him down. Worst off was Moody, who had the man¡¯s wife pummeling him about the head and shoulders as she begged them not to hurt her husband. Through all of this Thalia vaguely got the sense the two men she had stopped had fled the scene, but there was little she could do about it now.


    It took several minutes of wrestling with the screaming man before the guards on the outside of Westgate had bothered to check in on the commotion. Startled by the scene before them, they had rushed in the gatehouse and grabbed man-catchers, which they used to pin the man by his neck as Thalia got her manacles on him. As soon as her manacles were on the man had calmed down, almost eerily quickly, before beginning to cry. No words were said as he sobbed like a child. Thalia got him on his feet and enlisted Moody¡¯s help walking the man back to the Warden¡¯s headquarters. Thalia stopped briefly to pick up the pouch he had dropped, intending to log it as evidence.


    It was an arduous walk to headquarters, with the man sobbing and dragging his feet, and Moody complained and also dragged his feet, so it took them twice as long to get back as it took Thalia to get to the gate in the first place. Moody dismissed himself quickly and quietly as she handed the man over for processing, and submitted his pouch for evidence before rushing right back out to Westgate. There she forced Moody, just settled in after getting back to his post, to help her suss out any leads on the two men they¡¯d detained before all the commotion.


    A bit of asking about saw them speaking with the owner of a small food stall who catered to travelers as they arrived in the city. Thalia, amazed she hadn¡¯t seen the man earlier, couldn¡¯t help but advise him this was the worst possible gate to set up a food stall at. At this the young man laughed, and told her his family had a similar stall at each gate and one down by the docks. Good naturedly he gave her what information he had, directing her towards another alley, though was not so surprising as all roads but the main one that came into Westgate were alleyways. An extension of his goodwill, the young man offered her a roasted chicken drumstick, which she declined.


    Moody saw her off, snacking on his own drumstick as he returned to his customary spot by the gate. Thalia stalked through the alley, attempting to follow in the fugitive¡¯s footsteps despite the fact there was little in the way of tracks. After tracking and backtracking, and threatening two teenagers who looked like they were up to no good, she finally arrived at what she was told, by an old granny who couldn¡¯t help but reminisce about a time when this neighborhood was nicer, was a place the two men frequented.


    Tired, agitated, and well past the end of her shift at this point, Thalia left the muggy sunset outside and entered the building. Inside were rows of shelves lined with cages, full of various animals such as cats, dogs, bunnies, and all other sorts of pets. If the two were smuggling in an outside animal as an exotic best, then perhaps this pet store was in on the deal. She eyed the only person present, who stood at the back of the room behind the low shop counter. He smiled beatifically at her as she approached and asked how he could help her. Something like a warm fog stole over her thoughts as Thalia was taken aback momentarily by the sheer beauty of the man.


    If someone had told her he was a prince in disguise she wouldn¡¯t have doubted it for a moment. Steely gray eyes peeked out at her from under heavy lids, and his lips pouted delicately. She was so stunned by his appearance she only gave the barest description of the two men she was looking for. He unfortunately was unable to help, though he said he would keep an eye out for them. She felt like she was watching herself go through the motions as she apologized for wasting the man¡¯s time, though he assured her it was of no consequence. Even going so far as to jokingly point out he didn¡¯t have any customers, waving his delicate hands at the otherwise empty store. As Thalia made her way to the door she heard a noise, at once familiar and unfamiliar. Turning sharply, all she saw was a small rabbit with beady black eyes nibbling fiercely on some greens. Perhaps that was what was in the man¡¯s bag then, a rabbit stolen from the king¡¯s wood. Was it really worthwhile to concern herself over something like a rabbit? Should she really trouble a decent citizen over something like this?


    Thalia thanked the man once again for his time, and left the store in a haze of bliss, gleefully forgetting the shopkeep and the store itself as soon as they were out of her sight. Never noticing how the man smiled from behind the counter, or how the smile took on a somewhat cruel aspect as he watched the Warden leave. Nor did she see how his cruel eyes fixated on the bunny, which quailed and cowered in its cage.

 Chapter 6

    Pug and Tourmaline hastened down shadowed paths in companionable, if somewhat tense, silence. The news about Jet had come as something of a mixed blessing. Finding out he was alive and not wasting away in a beast¡¯s stomach brought no small measure of relief, however with it came a tide of confusion. What could humans want with him, why would they take him? Worse, it seems like they¡¯d only have one chance to catch up with them. A fortnight to reach Hummingbird¡¯s Hearth was cutting it close by any stretch of the imagination. Something more weighed on Pug¡¯s mind however, prompting him to gnaw on his lip and issue deep sighs periodically.


    ¡°Alright, out with it then!¡± She snapped, elbowing Pug. To his credit Pug looked suitably abashed, though he still tried to hide his worries.


    ¡°Out with what? There¡¯s nothing to be out about.¡± He said quickly.


    ¡°I know you''re worried, and I know you¡¯re trying to save me some suffering but watching you mope like you are is honestly worse than just about anything you could tell me.¡±


    Pug gnawed at his bottom lip for a few moments, lost in thought. His eyes flicked up into the trees above and then down, skimming her face before swinging to look out into the trees behind her. Tourmaline sighed, well used to Pug¡¯s particular idiosyncrasies but losing patience all the same. Her internal pressure was at its peak, and she had just opened her mouth to harangue him further when he finally spoke.


    ¡°The thing is, I¡¯ve never seen that happen to Baba before.¡± He said it so softly she barely heard him, his face averted as though he was nervous to meet her faze.


    ¡°Seen what happen?¡± Tourmaline said, confused.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a spell of hers fail like that, never seen her thwarted.¡± Pug said, mulling over this oddity. ¡°And I¡¯ve seen her work many magics.¡±


    ¡°Well, she looks like she¡¯s getting pretty old.¡± Tourmaline replied, her tone one of idle curiosity. ¡°How long has she been around?¡±


    ¡°As long as I can remember.¡± Pug said with a shrug. ¡°The cabin on the stream has always been there, and always been hers.¡±


    ¡°There, nothing to worry about then. You know the mortal races don¡¯t live long, she¡¯s probably just showing her age.¡± Tourmaline explained gently.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure Baba would ever let something like time slow her down.¡± Pug said with a wry grin, though he looked more calm now. Tourmaline deftly hid the worry she felt, a coldly burning little nugget resting in her chest. Pug being unsettled over the matter was enough to make her wary, however she was also relatively sure Baba wasn¡¯t human. After all, no human she¡¯d heard of, over the course of her studies on various and niche topics, could outlive a fairy¡¯s memory.


    They lapsed back into silence and, despite the worry she nurtured, this one was more amiable than the previous. More relaxed now than the last time she had passed through, Tourmaline saw an abundance of interesting flora in the environment around them, repeatedly breaking from the path to grab samples where she could. Her short little legs and dense frame meant she soon exhausted herself by scurrying through the underbrush, but she didn¡¯t let daunt her. Pug watched with wry amusement as Lina huffed over to a patch of moss and scraped up a bit with her knife, only for her eyes to light up part way through as she saw a particularly interesting rock on the ground a short distance away. She would mutter the name of what she gathered under her breath as well as its common uses. It was an old trick to keep her mind sharp and cement her knowledge, but it had the unintended side-effect allowing Pug to hear. The mischievous fairy amused himself by peppering her with questions, which she felt beholden to answer in the midst of all her distraction.


    ¡°Moonfern! We rarely get this back at the village.¡±


    ¡°And pray tell, what does that do, master alchemist?¡± A lilting tone in his voice confirmed he was teasing her, and had no true interest in its properties. Still she answered, excitement written clear on her face.


    ¡°If taken as a tea it lulls you to sleep rapidly, and in a cream it can provide mild pain relief. Look here!¡± She cried eagerly, already moving to the next item of interest as she gestured to a small mushroom growing from the bank of a river.


    ¡°This is a smeltshroom! I¡¯ve only ever seen this in books.¡±


    ¡°What in the Queen¡¯s grace is a smeltshroom?¡± Pug laughed, imagining a fiery little furnace burning in the stem of a toadstool.


    Rather than spoil the surprise, Tourmaline simply smiled mischievously and gestured at the colony. Pug inched forward cautiously, craning his neck to get a better look. The specimens were amazing, the fruiting body a sinuous and flowing construction of lustrous metals. Silver and gold melded together in ways so perfect they seemed natural, but were certainly magical in nature. A master craftsman could spend their life attempting to recreate what nature made here, and this beauty wasn¡¯t even the most amazing part. Strewn across the river bank, like the tossed away work of a mad jeweler, the growths caused the water to simmer and boil where it touched them. Periodically mushrooms would vibrate and begin to glow, emitting a gout of steam as the water around them evaporated in an instant. Slag would be spat from the gills of the mushroom, mixtures of sand, stone, and other unusable materials. The slag would sizzle and pop as it struck the water, and after the slag had dispersed the mushroom would begin to ooze a molten liquid that would cool into new additions to its striking metal body. The whole process took but a few minutes, minutes passed Jet by without his noticing as he was enthralled by the display before him.


    ¡°What in the hell was that?¡± Pug whispered.


    ¡°That was a smeltshroom! I¡¯ve only ever seen them grow on ore deposits or forgotten piles of scrap. I suppose the underground part of it, the mycelium, is growing all throughout the river bank and eating the ores carried here by the river.¡± Lina seemed to be excited over his interest in the matter, rushing headlong to explain everything she knew. ¡°It uses magic to smelt them down and grow, hence the name. Those little balls of slag it spits out are actually spores!¡±


    ¡°The name smeltshroom seems particularly on the nose.¡± Pug jabbed, however it fell flat as he wasn¡¯t able to stifle his amazed grin.


    ¡°Do you mind if we wait here a moment? I want to gather some spores and try growing these back home. I¡¯d like to experiment and see what all they can eat.¡± Her eyes were feverish with imagined experiments, though Pug was inclined to take a breather anyways.


    ¡°Of course, it''s about time for a break anyways.¡± Pug said, unslinging his pack with a content sigh. ¡°Though I am curious about something you said. How, precisely, does it grow here? You said the river washed ores down here?¡±


    ¡°Well, it probably took root during the dry season and started consuming the alluvial deposits left during the rainy season. I can¡¯t imagine it taking root otherwise. ¡°


    ¡°Alluvial?¡± Pug said, tasting the new word, its form novel and interesting.


    ¡°Alluvial deposits are just what the river leaves behind it carries from elsewhere. The reason there¡¯s silver and gold in this one is probably because this river starts up in the mountains. Over the ages the river wears the mountain down and frees the ore, which is carried by the river to deposits like these. The smeltshrooms themselves likely came from the mountains as well.¡±


    Tourmaline departed on an excited rant, talking about the metals could be found in deposits like this and how the smeltshrooms took on the qualities of the metals they fed upon. Pug smiled and listened as he pulled the rations from their pack to make a meal, allowing his mind to drift and simply relax in his friend¡¯s chatter. For Lina¡¯s ration he was able to secret it from her pack even as it hung on her back, after which he walked around to her front and pressed it into her hands. He watched as she accepted the parcel without ever looking at it, distracted as she chattered away. When Lina was impassioned she could go on for hours, until she was exhausted or miraculously satisfied she had explained her point. Pug left her to it, and though he harbored secret doubts a river could truly wear down a mountain, he trusted her on the matter as she was the far more knowledgeable of the two of them.


    Satisfied she would eat her portion of the food when she paused her chattering to breathe, Pug slid into a seated position with his back to a tree. He listened to Tourmaline, his mind only half aware of what she was saying while his mouth kept him in the conversation with vague affirmations. His eyes wandered over the glittering flow of the river, up and over the trees towering above them. Here and there he could spot a pair of birds hopping from branch to branch, chirping eagerly before taking flight. A squirrel carried food in its mouth, cheeks bulging as it skittered past. Pug let out a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he had been holding, and chuckled ruefully. He always found himself more at ease once he was away from the fairy village, though some part of him was dismayed at what that implied about him.


    Tourmaline looked over at him, seeming to sense his melancholy mood. Both opened their mouths to speak at the same time, but were cut off by the rapid patter of footsteps approaching and the rustling of underbrush. Lina visibly tensed, but Pug waved a hand at her casually and the tension in her frame eased away slowly. Moments later Slink burst out of a nearby bush, sliding to a stop between the two of them. The marten seemed happy to see them, swaying back and forth as though dancing as he tried to look at the both of them at once.


    ¡°I thought you left to drop off your boss¡¯ kid?¡± Pug said, walking around Slink so the marten could see both of them at the same time.


    ¡°Hey there, Slink.¡± Liina¡¯s voice quavered only slightly, her face betraying none of her nervousness at being near the marten. Pug was proud of her, but decided it was probably best if he kept to himself for the moment. Slink wouldn¡¯t miss the opportunity to poke fun at the gnome, and Pug didn¡¯t think it would take much to break her composure.


    ¡°Hey there yourself doll.¡± Slink blurted with a happy little hop before turning a joking glare upon Pug. ¡°At least she said hello, you mook.¡±


    ¡°Oh hello Slink, my best pal. What made you decide to grace us with your presence?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t think you can flatter me, kiddo.¡± Slink snorted. ¡°I dropped the kit off with his Pa, and the kid wouldn¡¯t shut up about you, kept tellin¡¯ his dad how you guys helped save him. Now his old man thinks you¡¯re the cat¡¯s meow, told me to come help you guys out.¡±


    Pug narrowed his eyes in suspicion but kept his voice even. ¡°Really? That¡¯s awfully nice of the don.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, it ain¡¯t all that. I think the boss wanted me out from under foot and figured this was as good a way as any.¡± For a four legged carnivore, Slink managed to kick his feet in embarrassment fairly well, causing a disjointed feeling in Pug at the disconnect between what he was and the very bipedal expression of discomfort.


    ¡°Why does he want you out from underfoot, Slink?¡± Pug ribbed, recovering quickly.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Slink hedged, drawing the word out long past its natural lifespan. ¡°Maybe I was the one watchin¡¯ the boss man¡¯s kid when he took off.¡±


    ¡°Sounds about right.¡± Pug rolled his eyes. ¡°Did you want any food? We didn¡¯t pack for three, but I should have a bit to spare.¡±


    "That''s mighty kind of you, but I snatched a vole on the way over.¡±


    Pug noticed Lina blanched, and he assumed she was disturbed at the idea of the marten killing something on the way over here. Something was most likely the size of a gnome or a fairy. He thought it was admirable, how she choked back her bias and attempted to move on. It was then he caught her eye, and she looked at him questioningly as he ate his share of the food. Pug gestured back at her hands, her face flushing as she realized she had been holding her share of the food the whole time. She scurried over to sit beside Pug with a murmured apology and thanks, notably keeping Pug between herself and the Marten. If Slink noticed her pointed avoidance of his person, he was chivalrous enough to let it lie.


    The three of them chatted, the fairy and the gnome between mouthfuls of food. It was about halfway through the meal Pug started to feel as though it was him having two separate conversations, rather than a conversation among the group. With no small amount of frustration he started fielding the comments back and forth, until they were essentially having a conversation through him. With the flow established, he suddenly stood up and left to relieve himself. The entire walk into the brush he snickered at the awkward image of Lina and Slink haltingly continuing the conversation. Even Slink had looked relatively flustered. As he meandered back he dropped in the midst of Slink explaining the leader of the martens - Pug refused to let the furry little tyrant force him to call him ¡°don¡± in his head, at the very least - was preparing for war. Apparently a few of the Speakers of the Forest, which was a better name than ¡®talking animal people¡¯, were provoking each other. People going missing, turning up dead.


    ¡°Sounds like it''s in our best interest to get Jet back as soon as possible, for a variety of reasons.¡± Lina whispered, perturbed by the news.


    With somber thoughts of war and chaos the party set off again. Lina quickly resumed the frenetic pace of specimen hunting, though it seemed she hadn¡¯t rested long enough to get all of her stamina back. She slowed to a shuffle, trudging back and forth, and then fell onto her bottom as she stooped to pull a particularly vigorous growth out by the root. She blinked dazedly at Pug as he caught up to and passed her.


    ¡°Well come on. We certainly don¡¯t have any time to wait on you.¡± He teased over his shoulder.


    Tourmaline looked like she wanted to spit nails, but lacked the breath to do even that. Pug slowed to a stop, wondering if he would have to carry the gnome. With her well muscled build and his light frame he doubted he could bring her far. It was to his shock Slink approached and, in the manner of his namesake, fell upon Lina before the gnome realized he was there. In a whirl of activity the marten bit the back of her shirt and lifted her into the air, setting her down gently upon his back. Lina hardly had the energy to look afraid, much less flee.


    ¡°Look, you¡¯re dog-tired miss.¡± The marten said quickly, hoping to head off any protests most likely. ¡°And since you¡¯re my buddy Pug¡¯s moll, I think I can give you a ride for a little bit.¡±


    Pug felt his face flush at Slink¡¯s comment and shot him a glare, which the frustrating weasel pretended not to notice. Thankfully the gnome had bigger issues on her plate, if she would have even understood what the marten implied. The gnome was taking a bit to mull it all over, a look of genuine distress on her face as her tired legs argued against the fear in her heart. Before either of them could speak up, Slink continued.


    ¡°I¡¯d even be willing to help you gather more of those herbs and stuff. If you want.¡± seemed to seal the deal. The exhausted alchemist gestured weakly into the distance.


    ¡°...Under that oak tree?¡± Lina muttered.


    ¡°Yeah, what about it?¡±


    ¡°I want some of thistle.¡±


    Pug was quite tickled to hear Lina speak so meekly, her normal energy and exuberance subdued in Slink¡¯s presence. He tried to hide his smile, but it was as though Tourmaline could sense his mirth. Her head whipped around with surprising alacrity given her exhaustion and her eyes pinned Pug to the spot. He jumped in shock and half lifted his hands in the air as a gesture of surrender, the smile never falling from his lips.


    ¡°And you.¡± Tourmaline hissed.


    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am.¡± Pug said, hoping compliance and a helpful attitude carried in his voice.


    ¡°You fly up there and get me some leaves from that tree.¡± She pointed at a nearby tree whose first branches were easily forty feet above the ground.


    Pug gave a sigh he hoped sounded long-suffering and dramatic before taking off. He wasn¡¯t going to be the one to tell the gnome no, not after she tamed her fear of the marten in her quest to improve her alchemy. A little pride warmed the cockles of his heart as he flew away, though he¡¯d never inform the gnome of it.


    ***


    Several hours later and pride had decayed and cooled into bitterness and exhaustion. In the manner of all academics, the gnome knew little restraint once her eye was drawn to something, and she had Slink and Pug running themselves ragged to gather ever more samples. The only reason he wasn¡¯t more irate was Lina had hopped off Slink as soon as she had the gumption to do so, and ran about on her own while simultaneously directing Pug, who had the unfortunate trait of being able to fly, into the treetops overhead. Slink, freed from his position as steed, was relegated to pack mule and laden with all the materials the gnome was gathering. Since she only had so many containers, Tourmaline had wound up using rope to literally lash bundles of miscellaneous junk to the marten. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    This behavior saw the three of them stumble up to the guards at the mouth of the gnome burrow, sweat-slick and out of breath. Slink was so overburdened and exhausted his furry stomach was at risk of being rubbed bare against the path beneath them. Pug¡¯s back, particularly the muscle group related to his wings, had gone from aflame to numb and loose feeling, which was worrying. He could hardly twitch his wings, and neither arm wanted to raise above shoulder height. Lina looked just as bad, though her eyes sparkled gleefully as she cataloged her gains. The guards, an older gnome named Chalcedony and a young gnomish lad named Nephrite, had already sent for a hand to assist them in bringing in their goods, as well notifying her parents of Tourmaline¡¯s safe return. They had attempted to pester Lina about her whereabouts, but found she didn¡¯t have the attention to respond and so relegated themselves to eyeing Slink and Pug in an accusatory manner.


    ¡°What¡¯s the deal with these bozos?¡± Slink grumbled, though he made sure to keep it quiet enough to not be heard by anyone but Pug.


    Pug could sense real irritation in his tone, which was a rarity for his furry, lighthearted friend. Martens never seemed to fare well under any authority but their own, but that wasn''t the issue here. The issue was their accusatory glares and their tense grip on the spears marked them as guardsmen. In particular the marten bristled with agitation when the gnomes addressed Pug, speaking to fairy in tones that were clipped and terse at best. The gnomes probably assigned no small amount of blame to Pug, his guilt or innocence -the latter of the two being far more unlikely in their eyes- of no particular relevance. Pug pulled the marten back a bit to keep the guards out of earshot and explained Lina¡¯s situation, hoping to get the marten to see things from the gnomes¡¯ perspectives.


    ¡°So you¡¯re telling me she ran away from home and traveled alone through the woods to seek your help?¡± Slink would have arched an eyebrow if he could have, instead opting to regard Pug with an air of incredulity. ¡°And there¡¯s nothing going on between you two?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve just worked together before. She clearly saw how heroic and competent I am while I was on the job.¡± Pug stated, cloaking his voice in a veneer of false vanity.


    ¡°Yeah, sure. More like she knows you love trouble like molls love a cat with scratch.¡± Slink muttered. ¡°You¡¯ll come running to assist any fella in a lick of trouble.¡±


    ¡°Run that one by me again?¡±


    Slink just scoffed and turned his fuzzy head to look at the guards again. Pug didn¡¯t have the energy to convince him, and instead leaned up against the marten, enjoying his soft fur. Moments later, far too soon in the weary fairy¡¯s estimation, a gnomish lass by the name of Jadeite arrived with a porter who was drawing an empty cart behind him. They worked together with the guards and the new arrivals to get all of the alchemical reagents loaded and tied down, and then they set off into the burrow. Slink made his excuses and scurried up a nearby tree to bed down for the night, claiming he didn¡¯t like being underground. Far more likely, in Pug¡¯s opinion, was the marten simply trusted the gnomes as much as they trusted him, which was to say not at all.


    ¡°¡®Bye Chalcy, Nephy.¡± Lina called tiredly as they moved on. The two guard¡¯s waved goodbye, however Pug felt their eyes on his back long after they¡¯d become nothing more than smudges in the distance.


    As they marched through subterranean halls of the burrow they drew the eyes of nearly every passerby. Many were grateful and surprised to see Lina, and just as many regarded Pug with hooded, suspicious glares. Rather than kick up a fuss Pug simply moved to the other side of the cart the porter was drawing along, between it and the wall, trying to keep it between him and the majority of the pedestrians. He knew gnomes were an insular people, but this was a bit much. His irritation tempted him to rant and rave against them, for why would he return with her if he had taken her from her home in the first place? He was somewhat gratified to see Jade smile an apology at him, which he returned with his own weary grin. At least not all of gnomekind was against him.


    After what felt like an eternity of walking, which Pug added to the growing list of travails he had to undertake to rescue Jet, they came to an intersection. Lina bade the porter to follow her and asked Jade to take Pug to her family¡¯s residence. Catching Pug¡¯s surprised expression she explained.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to take all of this to our lab. Can¡¯t have it overflowing my parents'' suite can I?¡± She said, trying to be lighthearted though her voice broke on his name.


    ¡°Alright. Just catch up quickly, otherwise your parents will break out all your childhood drawings and your diary.¡± Tourmaline scoffed as he said it.


    ¡°I only have research journals, thank you very much.¡± She said with a flourish before continuing on her way. The porter followed after her, sweat beading on his forehead. Pug said a solemn prayer to the Queen for the wellbeing of the poor man before following Jade into the residential tunnels. Without Lina here to incriminate him most people passing by merely looked at him with curiosity, though he could see as the rumor mill struggled to catch up as occasionally someone would frown and stare him down as he passed.


    He distracted himself by talking to Jade. He had thought as much by her slender and delicate frame, but she did not come from a mining family like Tourmaline had. Jade¡¯s family were jewelers by trade, and she had joined the guard against her parent¡¯s wishes. Apparently she was attempting to win some independence from them even as they continued to arrange dates and suitors for her. She was in the midst of telling him about her last suitor, a blubbery whale who was the son of a renowned merchant in another gnomish settlement when a heavy hand settled on Pug¡¯s shoulder. He turned to find himself staring into piercingly blue eyes.


    ¡°Hullo sir.¡± He managed to utter as Bazzite spun him around to grasp him by both shoulders. The motion woke Pug¡¯s exhausted muscles, and they made their dissatisfaction known by aching and burning raucously.


    ¡°Where is my daughter, fairy?¡± The stocky gnome growled at him. Hitherto Pug had the good fortune to see Bazzite only from a distance, where his disapproval was conveyed purely through displeased expressions and an aura of intolerance. His intimidation factor was much greater up close.


    ¡°She said she wanted to stop by her lab to drop off some of the samples we¡¯d gathered on the way here. Isn''t that right?¡± That last bit was directed at Jade, who nodded eagerly.


    ¡°That¡¯s right Bazz, she should be by later this evening. They had quite a bit to unload.¡±


    ¡°Samples? You were busy gathering herbs while Jet was missing?¡±


    ¡°Not my idea, I assure you.¡± Pug tried a winning smile, but Bazz simply scowled and looked at Jade.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take him the rest of the way from here.¡± He announced, before turning and stalking away. Pug shot a pleading look at Jade, who smiled apologetically and scurried away.


    ¡°Traitor.¡± Pug muttered, though he had to admit he was being somewhat unfair.


    Bazz didn¡¯t utter a word the entire walk, and several times Pug had to kick into a jog to keep up as Bazz threaded his way through congested halls. By the time they arrived at what Pug assumed was Lina¡¯s home he felt lightheaded and faint. Bazzite threw open the door and stormed inside, going deeper into the home where Pug heard a door slam closed. The home was dark and murky, and Pug felt as though he wasn¡¯t welcome. He¡¯d have turned and left then but the idea of stumbling around the warren, whose populace seemed inclined to regard him with suspicion, sounded far less appetizing. Nervous and without a chaperone, Pug closed the door behind him gently and called out.


    ¡°Hello?¡±


    Bright green eyes flared into existence a few feet in front of him, eliciting a yelp from Pug. A melancholy laugh emanated from the direction of the eyes, and a lantern flared into light. Blinking through the tears brought on by the sudden light, Pug could seeTourmaline¡¯s mother, also previously only seen from a distance. She had a small sad smile as she spoke.


    ¡°I apologize, we forget not everyone can see in the dark as well as we can.¡±


    "That''s quite alright, Miss¡­¡± Pug let it trail off, prodding his mind in vain as he attempted to dislodge the memory of her name.


    ¡°Oh, please just call me Beryl. I was just making dinner for Bazz and I, but I heard I should be expecting Tourmaline, a fairy and some sort of weasel?¡± She asked sweetly, a little confused as Pug smiled. He was amused at someone else calling Slink a weasel, though he doubted she would understand the humor in it and quickly stifled his grin.


    ¡°You won¡¯t have to worry about the weasel, just Tourmaline and I tonight. My name is Pug, and I¡¯m thankful for your hospitality.¡±


    ¡°Ah, not that there was much hospitality given.¡± At this she shot a dark look into the recesses of the home, presumably where Bazzite had disappeared.


    Pug was quick to assure her there were no hard feelings, and offered to help with the dinner since it was clear she was going to have to expand the scope of her operations. Beryl politely declined and instead offered Pug the use of their bath, which he eagerly accepted. She led him to the bath, lighting several sconces with small candles sitting in pools of half melted wax. She showed him the operation of the bath, which used two knobs and runic magic to heat the water to the preferred temperature. As soon as she was gone Pug threw himself in the bath, letting the hot water soothe his muscles. He had to be careful of his wings, which fit poorly in a gnomish bath, but beyond minor inconvenience it was heaven on earth for his sore and fatigued muscles.


    Pug enjoyed the bath until he felt as though he were going to pass out, so loose and relaxed he almost couldn¡¯t pull himself out of the water. He toweled himself off slowly and fluttered his wings as fast as he could manage to try and dry them. Beryl had left out some clothes, presumably Tourmalines or Jets, which he put on the pants from immediately. The shirt, however, would not accommodate his wings, so he was forced to fashion a sort of loose robe from a spare towel.


    While he had thought it a creative solution, Beryl tutted in disapproval in the way only a mother could when she saw him. She approached with a pair of scissors and took the shirt she had provided out of his hands, snipping two paths into the fabric of the back of the shirt from the bottom almost to the shoulder. Once done she helped him into the shirt, aligning the slits with his wings. While it was not the most comfortable thing in the world, it worked and her promise to wash his clothes as soon as she was able mollified him. He realized only now his pack with spare clothes was likely up in a tree with his marten companion.


    Though he attempted to cover his own portion of the chores, Beryl firmly dismissed any possibility of him washing his clothes for himself, and so Pug found himself sitting on a couch in the living room and listening to the distant clatter of kitchenware. Warm, relaxed, and eminently glad to no longer be walking, Pug allowed himself to slump over and close his eyes, gently entering a much needed nap. He was vaguely aware when Tourmaline arrived and spoke with her mother, and tracked her through half closed eyes as she went to the bath.


    Some unknown amount of time later, for he must have slipped into a deeper sleep than he intended, he was shaken awake by Tourmaline. Freshly bathed and dressed in clean clothes, she worked to towel dry her hair in vain, the thick sheet of curls greedily hung onto water. A loose lock of her hair hung in front of her face and dripped water onto him, causing his nose to twitch and bringing a scowl to his face as soon as he woke.


    ¡°You¡¯ll get a cold if you don¡¯t dry yourself off right.¡±


    ¡°Please, gnomes aren¡¯t as frail as you hollow boned fairies.¡± She shot back, striding away.


    Pug grumbled as he pulled himself upright, stomach growling. His clothes were wrinkled and disheveled, and he knew his hair was probably splayed about in all sorts of crazy directions. He rubbed at his face where the texture of the couch had left pressure marks before following Lina. He almost froze when he entered the dining room behind her to see Bazzite sitting at the head of the table, but luckily kept his composure. He ran his hands through his hair, the effort meant to hide his now shaking hands as much as it was to tame the unruly mess.


    Turning his attention to the table, he took in the assortment of dishes as well as pitchers full of liquid red and purple and smelling vaguely of fruit and berries. A cursory inspection of the items saw most fit to eat, his constitution being somewhat different than a gnome¡¯s, and the drinks provided were merely juice, nothing more. He heaped his plate full and ate with gusto in the face of the tension hung heavily over the table. Lina looked as uncomfortable as he felt, however a day of traveling and scavenging left her defenseless to the allure of food, and she filled her plate, and emptied it, with great rapidity.


    The atmosphere remained unpleasant, even beyond the sound of two ravenous animals eating. Lina¡¯s parents starkly contrasted their daughter and her friend, eating slowly and quietly while they pointedly avoided eye contact with each other. Pug had intended to distract himself with his meal for as long as he could, however fairies had smaller appetites than gnomes and he was soon stuffed to the brim. Unable to manage another bite he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach contentedly, studiously avoiding looking at Bazzite.


    By the time the last of Lina¡¯s family had finished eating Pug had already, in his boredom, imagined vague faces into the swirling gray of the stone ceiling he could no longer unsee. He almost cried out when Beryl brought a candelabra over to the table and the faces disappeared as the light revealed the uniform gray color of the stone, dismayed as he was by the erasure of his phantasmal friends. He bit his tongue however, for he suspected fairy-like whimsy would not be appreciated tonight. Beryl and Tourmaline worked together to clear the table, Pug once again forced to relax rather than help. If ever courtesy and manners were a burden, Pug reflected, then it was now as he could do nothing but wither under Bazzite¡¯s disapproval.


    ¡°Mom, Dad, I¡¯d like you to put up Pug for the night if it¡¯s no trouble. We¡¯ll be leaving tomorrow, so we won¡¯t be in your hair for long.¡± Tourmaline attempted to pass it off with casual ease, but her voice warbled as her nerves came to the fore and laid clear the lie of her confidence.


    ¡°If Pug doesn¡¯t mind sleeping on the couch-¡± Beryl attempted to speed along the topic, but Bazzite cut her off.


    ¡°Leaving?¡± Bazzite said the word calmly, the weight of the room¡¯s atmosphere seeming to double.


    ¡°Yes, I asked Pug here to help me find Jet and bring him home.¡± Pug shrank as she mentioned him, but thankfully Bazzite was busy staring at Lina.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you understand young lady, you won¡¯t be leaving this house for at least a year. The burrow for at least a decade.¡±


    ¡°Are you seriously trying to ground me right now!?¡± Tourmaline spat, volume rising. Pug was distracted by her wording, letting curiosity take him on a flight of idle curiosity. He always assumed grounding had been a term for fairy children because it meant, well, grounded. As in you couldn¡¯t fly. He found it funny gnomes had it, being as they lived underground and all. Does that mean they were glued to the roof when they were in trouble? A small voice in the back of his head cried out in frustration however, reminding him even if it wasn¡¯t his place to participate he still shouldn¡¯t abandon his friend in this argument.


    No more whimsy. This is a very whimsy unfriendly environment right now!


    A brief stray from reality saw him returning to the pair of them going at it with ever greater fervor.


    ¡°You disappeared, and right after we lost Jet! Do you know how worried we were? Your mother could hardly eat, she was so worried about you!¡± Bazz was roaring at this point. Pug had to hope stone walls offered better sound dampening than the wood he was used to back home, otherwise the neighbors were certainly going to hear their debate in vivid detail.


    ¡°I had to find someone who actually gave a damn about my friend. Pug agreed to help me look for him without hesitation! You told me he was probably resting in a hawk¡¯s belly.¡±


    ¡°Pug!? The fairy who aided the pair of you as you went gallivanting across the forest without a care in the world? It¡¯s a miracle something like this hadn¡¯t happened before now. Speaking of, if Pug is so damn reliable, where was he when Jet was taken?¡± He gestured in Pug¡¯s general direction, not bothering to address the person he was belittling.


    Pug made to speak up and defend himself explaining he only covered for them when they, first of all, told him they were going out. Outside of the times he was guarding them, Pug tended to stick around the near side of the fairy village. His protests were lost in the din of Bazz¡¯s shouting, ignored.


    ¡°And who¡¯s to say Jet isn¡¯t crow feed at this point?¡±


    ¡°Pug¡¯s friend Baba used her magic. She told us Jet is still alive.¡±


    ¡°Baba!?¡± Bazz said incredulously as he turned to Pug. ¡°You took her to a witch?¡±


    ¡°Now see, ¡®witch¡¯ is a term with negative connotations. I prefer to call Baba a ¡®mystical hermit¡¯.¡± Pug explained, helpfully, he hoped.


    ¡°This is ridiculous. Fairies are the least responsible of the Wyldelings! All they do is lounge and play sorry little pranks. I am forbidding you from going on this adventure with this fairy, and that¡¯s final!¡±


    ¡°Forbi-¡± Lina was about to retort when a stern voice cut her off.


    ¡°Alright enough¡¯s enough!¡± Beryl didn¡¯t raise her voice or put emotion into her voice like her husband or daughter. Instead she spoke with a quiet intensity that made even Lina and Bazz sit up straight.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been hoping the two of you would settle this like the adults you are but it looks like I¡¯ll have to step in. Lina, honey, running off like you did was immature and terrified your father and I deeply. We didn¡¯t know where you were or what happened to you. We weren¡¯t even sure we¡¯d get the small amount of closure Jet¡¯s mother has gotten. Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am.¡± Lina said quietly, as chastised as Pug had ever seen her.


    ¡°Now, Bazz my love. Our daughter is a grown woman. You can¡¯t go grounding her or forbidding her from doing anything. What we should be doing is supporting her and helping where we can, so she feels like she can turn to us when she needs to. She may be your little girl, but she isn¡¯t so little anymore. Got it?¡±


    ¡°Yes my darling.¡± Bazzite said, trying to soothe her rage. Amusingly, after being chewed out, Lina and her father had identical looks of embarrassment and apology on their faces. It was enough to bring a giggle rising up in Pug, which he struggled to stifle.


    ¡°Pug!¡± Beryl continued, startling him so thoroughly the rising giggle sank to a premature grave.


    ¡°Ma¡¯am!¡± He cried, unsure of why he was going to get a tongue lashing, but quite certain he deserved it.


    ¡°I apologize for Bazz¡¯s words. He was unfair and insulting not only to you, but to your people.¡± She said, softening. ¡°I hope you¡¯ll find it in you to forgive him.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I am sorry Pug. I was assuming things about you because of stereotypes I heard second hand. Please forgive me.¡± Bazz said, apparently contrite. Pug made a show of thinking about it, putting an upset look on his face.


    ¡°Well, as you may know, we fairies are known far and wide for being fickle and shallow creatures.¡± He paused for effect, savoring Bazz¡¯s discomfort under Beryl¡¯s harsh gaze. He knew if he made a hassle of it he could get her to excoriate him further, but really wasn¡¯t Pug¡¯s style. ¡°Therefore, I suppose you can rest assured all of those insults will surely be forgotten by tomorrow.¡±


    Bazz sagged in relief and Beryl favored him with a small smile. Meanwhile Lina kicked him underneath the table for harassing her father. Pug simply smiled in reply, which only earned him another kick.


    ¡°However, I do want to clarify one thing. I am expecting you to look after my daughter Pug.¡± Beryl continued, her eyes cold and hard.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry ma¡¯am. I¡¯m known far and wide in my village as a paragon of unfairy-like conduct. I am quite boring as I am both responsible and serious, and I keep my promises. I¡¯ll look after Lina and do my best to see Jet back home.¡±


    Beryl relaxed and she reached across the table to set her hand atop his own, the kind action for some reason bringing a feeling of comfort and familiarity to Pug. One he didn¡¯t fully understand. Perhaps his mother would have made a similar gesture had he known her. Pug mulled over this as they all dispersed to their respective beds, he himself laying face down on the couch to allow his wings some much needed space. Despite the weight of his forlorn thoughts and his earlier nap, he quickly fell into a deep slumber.

 Chapter 7

    The Merchant was absolutely furious and Jet, for the life of him -and he suspected his life might very well hang in the balance-, could not figure out why. Jet was racking his brain for some sort of solution to this dilemma, eyes averted in horror from the Merchant, as in its ire the creature seemed to have lost control of itself for the muscles in its face were writhing like skewered snakes and the bones were clicking and grinding against each other incessantly. The whole spectacle was terrifying, the noise pursuing and pressuring Jet into the corner of his cage, while the Wyldelings in the cages around him moaned and cried in the grip of sheer horror. Jet attempted to force his own revulsion and fear at the atrocity unfolding in front of him into the back of his mind, however before he could do so the Merchant flung himself at Jet¡¯s cage in a sudden, mad rush. his palms slammed down onto the shelf and shook the entire length, producing the jingling of rattled metal and small screams of fear from the other prisoners in equal measure.


    ¡°Who are you, someone so powerful would come looking for you?¡± the madman snarled, covering Jet in a fine spray of spittle.


    ¡°Who do I know?¡± Jet asked back, confused. ¡°Do you mean the guardswoman? I swear, I have no idea who she is!¡±


    The rage on the Merchant''s face flared in intensity at his reply and Jet despaired. He truly did not know the woman, though he suspected she was the guard who had almost saved him at the city gate. To his amazement, a few hours after his kidnappers had sold him to this abomination she had come into the building, walking straight up to the Merchant without so much as flinching. Jet couldn''t believe she did not sense the creature for what he was, however her face remained impassive, making no noticeable reaction. Jet couldn¡¯t help but wonder if all humans were dense, as neither Gregor or Thom had behaved like they could sense the wrongness of it. Regardless of how dull this particular human was, Jet still held out hope she would save him. His disappointment was dwarfed only by his confusion as her eyes slid over his cage without seeing, and his cries fell on deaf ears. He had come to forgive her, for he now suspected the entire establishment was riddled with wards and glamours.


    ¡°No you wretched fool, I don''t care one whit about the warden.¡± he laughed, if the noise he made could be called a laugh after being so thoroughly swathed in rage. ¡°I mean the one who came after! The one whose mere gaze nearly buckled the wards I¡¯ve laid upon this pitiful hovel.¡±


    Suddenly it clicked for Jet, what the monster was so concerned with. Shortly after the human guardswoman had left a palpable aura of tension had cloaked the building. Though it was hard to truly read the creature, the Merchant began to seem to Jet as though he were haunted, a rabbit harried by the fox. In the blink of an eye magical runes flared to life all over the walls, ceiling, and floor. The light they put off increased in intensity until it became blinding, and the aromatic scent of woodsmoke tickled Jet¡¯s nostrils. The Merchant scowled then, his ruined visage of a face becoming even more unpleasant as pain crept into it. Without warning the pale luminescence of the sigils faded, and in the aftermath of the event pale flecks of frothing spittle could be seen at the corner of the Merchant¡¯s mouth. Jet had assumed the event had little to do with him, but apparently the monster before him felt differently.


    ¡°Sir, I don¡¯t know how I can convince you, but no one I know is even slightly versed in magic.¡± Jet pleaded, hoping the creature would sense the truth behind his words.


    ¡°And there are none among your people? No wise woman, who would seek out a missing son of the village?¡± The Merchant replied suspiciously.


    ¡°None that wise! My people would look for me, but not far. In all honesty they probably think I got carried off by a hawk.¡±


    ¡°By a hawk?¡± The Merchant asked incredulously, and Jet nodded sadly.


    ¡°One got my cousin Pyrite a few seasons back.¡± He explained morosely. ¡°It¡¯s more likely to happen than you might think.¡±


    ¡°Carried off by a hawk¡­¡± The Merchant murmured in the cadence of a man lost in thought. It disturbed Jet how alike this thing was to a real person, once the bones and muscles in his face began to click and pop together. ¡°Perhaps it wasn''t you, little one. but you best behave before I suspect you to be too much of a nuisance and cut my losses.¡±


    The particular intonation the creature used left little for Jet¡¯s imagination. Jet swallowed the knot forming in his throat and nodded, relieved in the knowledge he was proven innocent in the matter of the wards and whatever triggered them. With the matter apparently resolved, the Merchant pulled Jet¡¯s cage off of the shelf and brought it over to his desk. He set Jet off to the side and knelt, rooting around in a shelf below the desk and out of Jet¡¯s sight.


    Jet took the opportunity, while the creature was distracted, to search for some method of escape. He didn¡¯t hold out much hope, however he couldn¡¯t help but feel like he had to try. Unfortunately the Merchant kept his countertop rather bare, and Jet was unable to find anything of note before the creature emerged from beneath the counter. Jet attempted to seem innocent, but the monster flashed him a knowing grin as he set the item he retrieved in the center of the desk. Jet tried to investigate the object, standing on the tips of his toes to catch every detail. It was a flat, wooden board with the only ornamentation being a seven pointed star carved into its face. At each point of the star was a glass sphere set halfway into the wood. His stomach sank as the cage was lifted into the air, one smooth motion carrying him across the counter and set it down in the middle of the board. The cage¡¯s diameter fit snugly into the heptagon in the star¡¯s center, as though it were designed to. In retrospect, it likely was. The Merchant laughed at Jet¡¯s curiosity and concern


    ¡°This won¡¯t kill you, little one. Though, if you¡¯re willing to tell me what you are, we can skip this step entirely.¡± He said it quite amicably, which only made Jet more reluctant to offer any information. Jet shook his head, his refusal firm despite his fear. .


    "That''s fine. It¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve got to use this anyways. Even though you¡¯re not willing to share with me, I¡¯m more than happy to explain what I¡¯m about to do to you.¡± All amiability had left the monster¡¯s tone, and his intonation turned flat, bland, and lifeless.


    ¡°This crystal right here, and the others like it, represent the elements. And these grooves connecting them all are channels for energy, bringing it into the crystals.¡± He gestured as he spoke, pointing out the parts of the board as he explained them. Despite the situation, Jet¡¯s naturally curious mind was eating up all this information.


    ¡°Now, each of these crystals is enchanted to only let in a certain type of energy. We have earth, wind, fire, water, wood, metal, and aether.¡± The Merchant continued, seeming to take as much pleasure in teaching as Jet did in learning. ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking, classically there are only five elements. Thankfully our island friends in the western sea brought the idea of metal and wood as elements about one hundred years past.¡±


    Jet nodded, completely invested in the creature¡¯s explanation. This new elementary theory was rather intriguing, and the implications for his own alchemy would be nearly limitless. Wood, in particular, made sense to him, as previously the green men of the woods and the dryads had been considered closest to the Earth element. Metal though, why wouldn¡¯t it be a subset of earth? With these questions running through his mind, Jet hardly noticed as the merchant began to carefully fill the grooves in the board with a silver, metallic liquid.


    ¡°So the theory behind this device is relatively simple. It channels your aura and its energy, running it into the glass spheres. I¡¯ll record the brightness and color of the crystals, and use information to find out just what you are. Understand?¡±


    Jet started, believing he had heard something concerning. A creature¡¯s aura was a part of them, a reflection of their life force. He turned to ask for clarity when the Merchant spoke, the words of a language unknown to Jet. Their sound crackled and popped percussively, the syllables seeming to Jet¡¯s mind to be formed of the void and absence between the noises made. Then, a cold pain was tearing through him, ripping its way through his stomach and up into his heart. Jet gasped and collapsed immediately, slumping to the floor of his cage as his extremities went numb with chill. Head pounding, Jet curled into a ball to try and preserve even the smallest kernel of warmth. He used what shaky breath he could muster to blow into his cupped hands, though he didn¡¯t feel a difference.


    ¡°I forgot to mention, drawing the energy out of you would be an exceptionally unpleasant experience.¡± The glee in the Merchant¡¯s voice made it clear just how likely it was he had ¡®forgotten.¡¯If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Jet craned his head about, desperately looking for an end to his suffering. He saw, from his prone position at the edge of the cage, the silver liquid in the lines of the heptagram shining with a pure white light. The few crystals immediately in view were clear and without color, and so Jet had to squirm and struggle to turn and look at the crystals behind him. There he could see one crystal filled with dusty gray-browns and dark shadows, which shone bright enough to create splotches of color, visible on the back of his eyelids when he blinked. Next to it, far dimmer, was a crystal filled with metallic colors. Copper, silver, gold, each glittering dimly as though at the end of a darkened tunnel or in the bottom of an unlit drawer. The Merchant took note of these crystals, then moved to each clear crystal in turn. Apparently he wanted to be sure none of the crystals were simply too dimly lit to be seen. He paused for a particularly long time on the last, focusing on it with squinted eyes. Still, Jet couldn¡¯t help but feel he lingered longer than necessary, basking in the gnome¡¯s pain.


    ¡°Pardon me, but the air crystal requires a bit more attention than the rest.¡± He said, a note of mirth returning to his voice. ¡°Now, let me turn this thing off so you don¡¯t expire while I¡¯m checking your results.¡±


    A humming noise Jet hadn¡¯t yet perceived ceased, and the cold tearing at him as it stole his energy withdrew reluctantly, lingering deep in his bones. Jet was finally able to unclench his jaw and breathe, heat slowly filling his chest and beginning to radiate outwards, chasing away the lingering chill. The Merchant was looking through a book, tutting and speaking to himself.


    ¡°Definitely too small to be a dwarf or a svartalf. Too stocky to be a pixie. Coblynau?¡± The monster leaned closer to Jet, giving him a brusque once over with his eyes. ¡°No, I don¡¯t believe you¡¯re ugly enough to be a coblynau. I think, given your size and elements, you¡¯d have to be a gnome. Am I right?¡±


    The Merchant¡¯s eager face looming over him, all Jet could do was nod. Terror cloaked him, fearful any further resistance would see his energy drained by the cursed board. Triumph flashed across the Merchant¡¯s face, striding away to a nearby bookshelf. The cursed creature pulled another book free, this one appearing to be a journal. Grabbing an inkpot and quill, it began to write.


    Jet was struck by the idea that, even as exhausted as he was, this was likely the best opportunity he would have to escape. His foe was distracted and likely considered him incapable of fleeing, and would be slow to react. Jet was small, if he could get somewhere to hide he might have a chance. With a lurch Jet shot up and threw himself at the wall of his enclosure. The cage, taller than it needed to be to hold the gnome, lent itself to his efforts as its top-heavy frame began to teeter, then fall. With a clang the cage fell on its side, slamming Jet¡¯s face into the bars even as he attempted to brace for it. He felt blood begin to trickle from his nose, however he wasted no time staunching it. Jet could hear the Merchant begin to stand from where he stooped over his journal, attention drawn by the noise. Thinking quickly he pushed against the now horizontal bars of his cage, its curved nature lending it to entering a roll even as the wide base made the motion a diagonal affair.


    Despite the awkward cant of the cage, Jet managed to roll it off of the desk, sending it careening into the floor below. Jet braced himself before he hit the floor, though it did little to help. The unfortunate gnome was bounced off of what felt like each individual bar on the cage as it twisted and bent around him. By some miracle, he was spat out of the cage in the midst of the tumble, landing in a sprawl on the wooden floorboards of the shop floor. The thud of footsteps against the floorboards reverberated against him, forcing Jet to wipe the blood and dust from his eyes as he scrambled to his feet, lurching towards the distant doorway.


    He cast a hurried glance over his shoulder to see if the Merchant was pursuing, only to see the monster standing idly by his desk, seemingly amused by the situation. Deciding not to look this particular gift horse in its mouth even as worry begins to gnaw at him, Jet faced forward and summoned reserves of strength he didn¡¯t know he had and pushed himself towards the door. A quarter of the way, then half, and then it was only a quarter to go. Between rapid breaths and desperate blinking to get the bloody sweat out of his eyes, Jet almost didn''t see the shadows by the door darken and twist, coalescing into a dense ball of darkness. He steeled his resolve, for there was no other option but to bull through whatever foul magics the Merchant used to bar his way.


    From deep within the shadows two orbs flared into crimson life, all the furies of hell seemingly contained within. A rumbling, resonating growl began low and rapidly escalated into a cacophonous bark. Except, wasn¡¯t quite a fair way to describe the sound issued forth. It had all the ferocity of a lightning strike, and all the emotional impact of a slammed door punctuating a heated argument. Jet¡¯s heart stuttered as the sound seemed to impact him physically. Faltering, Jet fell into a slide on his knees, hoping to slide underneath the baleful orbs he knew now were its eyes. Instead they dipped sharply, and out of the murk a charcoal black snout emerged and dipped down into his path. The impact knocked out what little breath he still had out of his chest and sent him flying backwards with a dismissive flick. As he soared backward Jet caught sight of the creature in the shadows, a thick skulled mastiff with overly large fangs, dyed in the light of the new moon and given embers for eyes.


    Jet hit the ground hard, skidding across the wooden boards. Despite this, he knew he would never have another chance, the monstrous Merchant sure to make his cage even more secure if he was caught again. Thinking quickly, he took the lingering momentum of the landing and used it to roll back to his feet. Jet geared himself up for a sprint, managing to take only a single step before the beast barked again. Now it was on this side of reality, the bark¡¯s already powerful impact was even more tremendous. Every part of Jet suddenly threw itself into a stop, the noise freezing his body by assaulting his mind. Somehow Jet knew if the dog -though calling this thing a dog felt wrong, for it was to a dog as a revenant was to a man- if it were to bark again he would not survive it. The thing huffed, preparing to draw in the air for one final baying report, jowls fluttering as it made to end this life. Mercifully, a sharp whistle cut through the air, stifling the beast. With a disappointed chuff it strode away, its nearness a cold presence on his skin.


    Sheer terror locked Jet in place as paws pattered past him and the heavier footsteps of the Merchant approached. He made no effort, could not make any effort, to evade as he felt the Merchant¡¯s hand dip down to grab him. Only once he was well in the air and beyond the shadowy mastiff¡¯s reach was he comfortable enough to open his eyes. By that point he was already before a nearby shelf, crowded with a variety of other creatures in cages. His replacement sat there, door yawning open to receive him as he was set gently inside. His legs folded numbly underneath Jet before he could catch himself, leaving him kneeling.


    ¡°That beautiful beast acts as my security, by the by.¡± The Merchant said lightly. ¡°He¡¯s known as a Black Dog. You may not be familiar with his breed, but I guarantee if he¡¯d barked a third time there wouldn¡¯t have been enough left of you to dissect.¡±


    The Merchant confirmed the dread premonition Jet had felt under the gaze of the beast. He had been told stories of the thing as a child, the type of frightful tales told around a campfire to elicit screams from children. The malevolent thing he had just encountered, with its baying portent of death, was far too real for his liking.


    There has to be some way around it! I just have to search for the opportunity. Jet thought, eyes panning around the room.


    ¡°Additionally, my little gnome, this is what it costs to employ such fine security.¡± As he spoke the Merchant strode to the shelf opposite of Jet, and pulled a cage off of it.


    Inside was a sickly looking creature with waxy skin and short black hair which ended in a blue flame, which marked it as a Bluecap. They were cousins to gnomes, and if they weren¡¯t living in communities together then their settlements were never far apart. The Merchant opened the cage and reached inside, grasping it with his thumb and forefinger as he lifted it by its ankle. Withdrawing it from the cage, the Merchant flicked his wrist and casually tossed the Bluecap through the air. Jet tracked her arc, for now she was in the light he could see her with greater detail, until it came to a vicious and abrupt end. Just as she began her descent the Black Dog leapt out of the shadows and snatched her out of the air with its great maw, silencing her tinny screams with a sickening crunch. Quite content, it chuffed happily and took its prize back to the door where it worried at the corpse for a time, producing a series of vile and obnoxious noises.


    Jet simply stared at the point mid air where the poor bluecap¡¯s flight, and life, ended in a tragic terminus. For some reason he couldn¡¯t seem to muster any feelings, as though over the past few days he had simply ran out of them. His mind was a howling void as he struggled to put the past few moments into a proper perspective. The Merchant, monstrous and merciless, shook his cage, the sudden stimulus catching Jet¡¯s attention and awakening him to at least one emotion. Guilt. Tears flowed freely from his eyes as he regarded his captor, who smiled his false life smile.


    ¡°So now you see. Attempt to escape, and you either die or go back to your cage. Either way, someone else is going to die for your attempt. So be a good boy and sit in your cage until I need you, okay?¡±


    The Merchant sauntered away, not waiting for an answer. He moved into the back rooms of the building, wherein a normal shop would store excess stock and do the administrative work traditionally left behind the scenes. Jet dimly heard his thudding footsteps moving below him, and before long there were distant screams. Jet shook, dreading reality and hoping for it all to be a dream, he couldn¡¯t stomach being at the mercy of this creature. Tears continue to flow freely as Jet locked away any thought of freedom or escape. It couldn¡¯t be worth it, not if another would suffer in his stead. With what little will he had left he summoned his innate gnomish magic and wrote a message into the floor of his cage. Something for others to remember him by once he was gone, and a warning to someone who would repeat his folly.

 Chapter 8

    Tourmaline and Pug left the burrow well before noon, despite the not so subtle persuasions of Lina¡¯s father, Bazzite. In fact, it seemed to Pug his constant nagging had the opposite effect, hastening Lina¡¯s efforts to depart. The irritated gnome did insist they stop by the myconid who had sold Jet the information one last time, but the poor fungus wasn¡¯t able to do much more than confirm the information than he already had. In a rare break between pleading attempts to get Lina to stay, Bazzite explained the guilt-ridden ¡®shroom had spent most of his recent free time searching the nearby forest with the guards in an attempt to find the barest hint of Jet.


    ¡°Now the council is calling off the search, I''m not sure what the poor fellow is going to do.¡± Bazzite¡¯s words were heavy with melancholy. ¡°I hope he stays, no one blames him for what happened.¡±


    Lina¡¯s face twisted in irritation for a brief moment, her displeasure making itself known against her will. Whatever her thoughts on the council¡¯s decision, she maintained a terse silence, broken seldomly with small talk. Pug shuffled along, grateful to not be dragged into any unnecessary conversation with Bazzite, who was still less than pleasant to deal with. Lost in thought as he was, Pug yelped in surprise as Lina stopped in front of him and he ran into her rock-solid form. Lina hardly noticed the impact, exclaiming as an idea came to her.


    ¡°We should probably let Diamond know Pug and I are going to go searching for Jet.¡± She frowned as Bazzite shook his head, shutting the idea down even as it left her mouth.


    ¡°No, we shouldn¡¯t. Getting her hopes up now, before we know anything for certain.¡± Bazzite said softly.


    This too seemed to irritate Lina, though Pug sympathized with both sides. The gnomes seemed to have written Jet off completely, a premature decision Pug found particularly irksome. On the other hand, their lack of faith in his and Lina¡¯s abilities was understandable. They were children by the standards of their peoples, and the Wylde was not known for the hospitality shown to those who wandered from their homes. Many of the locals who heard Lina¡¯s plan looked at her with a mixture of disappointment, disapproval, and pity. The looks they gave Pug, particularly his wings, would have started fights in other circumstances.


    It put a significant damper on what was an otherwise pleasant stay for Pug. He found the cool subterranean sprawl to be quite comfortable and soothing, the dim lighting and hushed quiet making him feel at home. It was certainly a far cry from what Orchid¡¯s father, a fairy of high standing, much renown, and de facto dignitary of Pug¡¯s fairy village, had to say about it. If you listened to the man you¡¯d think he was called to the underworld itself. Pug¡¯s relief upon leaving the burrow, emerging from the tunnel system into the morning light, was entirely due to his eagerness to be free of the thinly veiled hostility of the gnomish community.


    Despite how pleasant he found life beneath the earth, the open air invigorated Pug. With a joyous whoop of excitement he took to the air, wings instinctively unfurling in the light breeze and catching the air. With a few heavy wingbeats he gained height, swooping and diving as he gave himself the exertion his body craved. Grinning like a fool, Pug pirouetted to wave at Lina, only to be taken aback by the scowl of disapproval Bazzite wore. Bazzite grabbed her by the shoulder, turning her slightly as he spoke too low for Pug to hear. By the look on her face, he was probably trying one last time to convince her to stay. The guards at the mouth of the burrow¡¯s tunnel agreed with Bazz, eyeing Pug while they took up supporting positions behind Bazzite¡¯s back.


    It¡¯s not my fault you guys can¡¯t understand how good this feels. Pug thought sullenly.


    Other Wyldelings generally regarded fairies as irreverent and care-free, due in particular to their tendency to shirk responsibilities and simply fly away. Pug couldn¡¯t blame them, being poor wingless creatures they couldn¡¯t understand the allure of it. Unfortunately this lack of understanding didn¡¯t prevent them from judging his ability to keep Lina safe, much less to bring Jet home. A mischievous idea overtook him then, and Pug smiled devilishly. He turned his back on Lina and her entourage, whistling sharply. Two short notes and then a long one, which he held until his breath ran out and its piercing shrill faded.


    It was only a moment before rustling in the underbrush was heard, catching the gnomes¡¯ attention. They began to mutter amongst themselves nervously, choking off into startled squawks as Slink burst from the foliage, sending a spray of twigs and loamy debris flying. The marten panted raspily, beady eyes scouring the clearing around the burrow for whatever caused Pug to issue his emergency signal. Upon seeing Pug¡¯s malicious grin his face twisted with wrath, which suited Pug¡¯s purpose even more.


    What Pug saw when Slink burst into their little clearing was an old friend who, in the middle of breakfast, was called to Pug¡¯s side by their long established emergency signal. The gnomes, however, saw a predator as large as they were, whose snout soaked in blood which held scraps of fur and specks of dirt. His teeth were similarly bloodied and may have had chunks of flesh stuck between them, though Pug didn¡¯t care to look too closely. His anger, which was solely directed at Pug, was a mask of animalistic rage to the gnomes. The judgemental cretins grew pale and broke into a nervous sweat as they scurried back to the mouth of the tunnel behind them. To Pug¡¯s surprise and her own credit, Lina separated herself from the group even as they grasped at her to pull her back. Pug could see her throat work as she swallowed nervously, however she approached Slink with long strides. Pug descended and landed lightly upon the ground beside Slink.


    ¡°You¡­ sent the¡­ signal?¡± Slink said between breaths, eyes narrowed. ¡°Where¡¯s the emergency?¡±


    ¡°They were the emergency.¡± Pug explained, gesturing back at the gnomes.


    ¡°And what is that supposed to mean?¡± Slink growled.


    ¡°I¡¯m curious about that as well.¡± Lina asked testily. She certainly didn¡¯t appreciate them frightening her fellow gnomes, particularly with her father amongst the victims of this particular prank.


    ¡°I thought it might clean up their attitude a little.¡± Pug said cheerily as he reached up and flicked a bit of fur off of Slink¡¯s snout. ¡°You missed a spot.¡±


    Slink grumbled and turned away to sulk, ignoring Pug¡¯s attempt to mollify him. Lina strode back a few paces and said her goodbyes to her father, standing a distance away to prevent them from just grabbing her. Bazzite was certainly upset, however his attitude seemed to shift as he regarded Pug and Slink. Certainly not pleased with either of them, but perhaps a bit more confident in them than he had been Or perhaps more confident in Slink, who displayed the evidence of his dangerous nature upon his maw.


    Giving one last tear soaked goodbye, and a message for her mother despite saying their goodbyes earlier, Lina turned and strode away from her father. Slink departed as well, walking slowly until Lina caught up to him, but paying no particular care for Pug at the moment. Pug trudged after him, giving one last look over his shoulder to the gnomes behind him, whom he graced with a cocky smile and a wave. Bazzite¡¯s scowling face followed him until they rounded a bend on the trail, disappearing from sight.


    ***


    ¡°What in the Queen¡¯s name was that?¡± Lina finally snapped and asked. ¡°Did you have to frighten them? I¡¯m going to be in so much trouble, I¡¯ll never hear the end of it.¡±


    The trio had made good time since leaving the burrow, though they were lucky they often had paths and trails to follow. Occasionally they had to cut through the brush, an act that would become the norm as they moved further from the civilized areas of the Wylde. Trade and travel between communities here was a rare and difficult thing, but entrepreneurial spirits always found a way, their perseverance providing Pug¡¯s troupe with the majority of the paths they used. Most of the clans of the forest kept to themselves, and there was little reason or impetus among Wyldelings to build official roads. Travelers in the Wylde relied on paths other¡¯s wore into the forest floor or game trails left by the wildlife, and their own sense of direction to make it anywhere here. It hadn¡¯t taken long before Tourmaline had scrambled onto Slink¡¯s back, allowing Pug to take the burden of blazing the trail solely on his shoulders.


    ¡°How about you come down here and help me out, and I''ll be more than happy to explain myself.¡± Pug snapped as he attempted to reach behind himself and free his wing from where it was snagged on a particularly stubborn bush.


    ¡°What do you think, Slink? Should we help him out?¡± Lina asked, her tone of a petulant child.


    Instead of answering Slink leapt up and used a nearby tree to circumvent the bush Pug was struggling with, his sharp claws easily finding purchase on the bark. Tourmaline clung onto his back tightly as he slithered forward and dropped off the tree, landing in front of Pug with casual grace. Pug grumbled under his breath as the marten trotted away with Lina in tow, freeing his wing after struggling for a while longer.


    Upon freeing himself, Pug found he had been left behind and was forced to scramble to catch up to his travel companions. Huffing with the added exertion, he couldn¡¯t help but level a glare at Lina¡¯s back. A glare he dropped after taking a few moments to calm down. Perhaps it was part of his nature, indeed the very nature of all fairies, to be petty and vindictive. It was rumored they took after their larger cousins in regard.


    doesn¡¯t make it okay, does it? He chided himself.


    He prodded the guilt he ought to be feeling from where it hid in the more reasonable parts of his mind, bringing it to the fore and forcing himself to feel it until it eclipsed his irritation. With his more responsible side winning control, he was forced to evaluate his actions and found them quite reprehensible. Which meant there was only one thing to do and with a deep sigh took with it the last of his stubborn resistance, he spoke.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. What I did was childish and petty.¡± He apologized.


    ¡°And what, exactly, are you sorry for?¡± Lina¡¯s frosty tone caused him to pause, but the pair of them slowed to a halt which he took as a good sign.


    ¡°I...¡± Pug began hesitantly, struggling to find the words he needed to explain himself. ¡°I didn¡¯t like how they were treating us. How they were treating me, rather. It felt like they didn¡¯t trust me to keep you safe. I thought I¡¯d give them a little shock, sort of put them in their place.¡±


    The trio walked in silence for a time. Pug was nervous and his sweat wasn¡¯t entirely from exertion. He kept his eyes on the ground under his feet, not wanting to risk meeting their eyes. Finally Slink spoke, displeasure coating his words.


    ¡°I like you Pug, but you made me out to be a monster, see. I¡¯m not your thug, not your man to use when you want to buck a bunch of saps.¡± A sharp flick of the tail punctuated his statement, a hint of a smile entering his tone. ¡°I have to say though, it''s nice to see you can act like a fairy sometimes.¡±


    Pug didn¡¯t think his head could bow any lower, however the guilt in his heart redoubled and pressed down upon him. The hurt in Slink¡¯s words was readily apparent and wounded him in turn. Still, Pug couldn¡¯t help but crack a grin as the marten teased him, a sign his furry friend would be willing to forgive him eventually.


    ¡°I¡¯m with Slink. You¡¯re usually so serious I was beginning to wonder if you were actually a fairy.¡± Lina taunted, looking over her shoulder.


    Pug did his best to look aggrieved, but despite himself a relieved grin worked its way across his face. Lina giggled at the way his face twisted against his will, enticing Slink to turn and watch as the fairy struggled to control his expressions. By the time the group broke through the underbrush into the next clearing they were all laughing with the kind of relief that comes when you¡¯ve reconciled with friends. The day was bright and fresh, their journey just resuming after their temporary rest. All of this contributed to a sense of ease and cheer as they stepped back into the sunlight, the sudden brightness blinding them, the group physically and emotionally exposed, completely unprepared.


    A hissing whistle split the air, ending in a sickening thud reverberated through Lina¡¯s frame. She cried out, hands twisting to reach her back, and fell from where she was perched on Slink. Simultaneously a wooden shaft sprouted from Slink¡¯s shoulder, the marten twisting around violently as he snapped at the source of his sudden pain. Pug was moving, hand outstretched to offer assistance but something struck the small of his back and brought him to the ground. Pushing himself roughly onto his back with his hands as his lower body seized and froze with the pain and the impact, he found a ragged, scrawny goblin crawling out of the brush and up his legs with a bloodstained stone gripped tightly in its hand.


    Goblins were, as a rule, hideous creatures. Rumored to be Wyldelings who had sided with darkness in the days of yore, believed to be cursed by the Queen for their betrayal. Their skin was withered and gray, split and gnarled like tree bark. Where they remaine, rotted yellow teeth were filed to points, though every other tooth in this particular goblin¡¯s maw was cracked or chipped. Dark eyes glittered with malicious intent and savage intellect filled Pug¡¯s view as the creature drew itself up onto its knees, rock brought over its head to be slammed down onto Pug. Past its looming, grotesque form the imperiled fairy could see two more goblins, virtually indistinguishable to the one straddling him now. One had a bundle of short spears, if you could call crudely sharpened sticks spears, strapped to its back for throwing while the one next to it simply carried a crude club hewn from a log or stump and reinforced with stones along the striking service. Pug could hear more goblins behind him, as well the snarls and yips from Slink as the marten fought back. Lina was frighteningly silent, but Pug had no time to worry for her.


    The goblin straddling Pug let out a ululating cry, overly long tongue squirming obscenely in the air. The creature believed it had secured its kill and the honor to go along with it, but the fairy hastened to disabuse the twisted abomination of notion. Pug struck out with his palm, his diminutive size belying the fact he was one of the strongest fairies in his village. His open hand collided with the tip of the goblin¡¯s chin, snapping the mouth full of jagged teeth closed on its pallid and wormlike tongue. ,Recoiling from his strike, the goblin instinctively brought its hand to its mouth as its eyes watered with tears of pain. Pug capitalized on his enemy¡¯s shifting center of gravity and surged forward toward it. In a flash he had the upper hand, the goblin pinned beneath him and his knife in his hand, withdrawn from its sheath on his waist in the blink of an eye. His spear was still being carried by Slink, who wasn¡¯t in any position to deliver it to him at the moment.


    Pug lashed out, blade a silver blur as he split the flesh of the goblin¡¯s throat, leaving it in the dirt behind him as he rolled to his feet. He brought his knife up in a guard as the two goblins he¡¯d sighted earlier approached, the pair of them eyeing their dying comrade with disdain. Death among goblins was common, the survivors believing themselves stronger than the deceased regardless of how powerful the dead were in life. Their society, if you could call it that, was a brutal and savage climb to the top of the hierarchy and there were no records of a slow and peaceful death among their kind.


    One, armed with a club, stepped past his dying comrade and raised his weapon with such ease that it seemed weightless. The other flipped one of his short spears into a throwing stance, chittering something incomprehensible to his club-wielding ally. Pug was no slouch with a knife, and he was confident in his reflexes, but he wasn¡¯t sure he could parry a thrown spear at such a short range. The goblin¡¯s warped grin, which showed it understood just how vulnerable he was, vanished in a blaze of light.


    In the middle of its throw a glass flask, sparkling in the sun, soared past Pug and struck it in the chest. A metal ball inside the flask struck the side and cracked the container, exposing the liquid contents to open air wherein they immediately ignited and covered the wretched creature in hungry flames. The spear buried itself in the dirt between the javelineer and Pug, its wielder suddenly too preoccupied with other matters to follow through on the throw. The club wielding goblin stared in horror at his comrade as he screamed in agony, uselessly rolling on the ground to try and put the fire out, allowing Pug to glance over his shoulder to thank his surprise benefactor. He was glad to see Lina grinning triumphantly, if somewhat green around the gills, though her smile turned into a mask of fear as she gestured urgently behind him. Pug looked back to his remaining foe in time to see the club coming at him in a wide swing. The fairy attempted to dodge out of the way, but something caught his trousers, tripping him and bringing him to his knees. The club whistled through the air over his head as the goblin failed to correct its trajectory in time, his inexperience and lack of training on full display as the goblin was pulled along by the weight of his weapon.


    Pug took the moment the goblin needed to recover to look down and figure out what he¡¯d tripped over, irritated to see the first goblin gripping his legs even as the last of its lifeblood trickled into the earth. It cackled madly at him through teeth stained brown with what passed for blood among its monstrous kind.  Frustration welled in Pug as he stabbed at it, the resilient little monster twisting its head around to dodge the blade. All it needed to do was buy its compatriot enough time to finish the job, its brutish companion lifting its club for a strike would crush Pug into a pulpy mess. As the club leapt towards him with brutal speed, Pug flapped his wings, hard. He couldn¡¯t properly take flight with his extra baggage, but the wingbeat was enough to push him back and bring his tagalong into the line of fire. The club¡¯s arc terminated in a crunch, cutting the mocking laughter of the grappler short with a gargling exhalation. Before the fratricidal goblin could ready its club to try again Pug sprinted straight at it. Gripping the club with one hand and forcing it down and away from him, Pug lashed out with his dagger and planted it square in the goblins chest. He kicked the thing away as its grip on the club loosened, taking the unwieldy weapon for himself.


    Pug spun around with the club in hand, assessing the situation. Lina had collapsed in the dirt where he had last seen her, motionless. A smattering of fallen goblins laid some distance away from her were frozen in twisted poses, faces masks of pain and flecked with sweat and specks of white, frothy spit. Their pathetic state was likely the product of Tourmaline¡¯s alchemy. Pug yearned to go to her, however Slink¡¯s sprinting form caught his eye. The marten was streaking to the far end of the clearing, calling out a warning to Pug as he ran. Pug couldn¡¯t hear him over the distance and the sound of his blood rushing in his ears, however his eyes caught a gray blur sailing through the air towards him. He hastily raised the club to intercept the projectile, a sharp crack resounding and the club shivering in his hands as a stone ricocheted off of it. Slink reached his destination in the same moment, the goblin slinger going down under his furry bulk.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Pug glanced about quickly to be sure there were no other surprises waiting for them, seeing nothing but dead goblins. and the writhing, screaming slinger Slink was tearing into as the marten¡¯s blood frenzy came to a head. With no threats readily apparent, Pug ran towards his prone friend. Her face was pale, framed with damp locks of hair which was plastered to her face with a mixture of sweat and blood. Her breaths were shallow gasps, and upon closer inspection he saw a deep gash just above her ear. A sharp gash sounded as Slink returned from his slaughter and saw the wound for himself. Flicking his gaze over to Slink, he saw the marten was looking rather dire himself. Two short spears jutted out of his hide, and several lacerations marked him, including a shallow one split his upper lip on his right side.


    ¡°Did you see what took her down?¡± Pug said tersely as he rushed over to Slink and pulled first aid supplies from the bags the marten carried. Given the marten could still move, Tourmaline had priority for treatment.


    ¡°The slinger got her. She¡¯d just finished off the pack that had come at her when the stone struck her head.¡± Slink looked down on the gnome with concern.


    Pug set to work immediately, imminently grateful for the poor equipment and even worse training of the average goblin. He was even more thankful for the hardy nature of gnomes, for even with all the handicaps the goblins had, he was certain if the stone had struck him in the head he¡¯d be dead now. As it was he was the healthiest among them, hardly impaired by the bruise spreading along his back where the grappler had struck him. He cleaned Lina¡¯s head wound as thoroughly as he could, not trusting the goblins to clean or maintain their weapons. Once done he applied a magical salve he¡¯d learned from Baba, before wrapping her head in bandages. Tourmaline likely had her own salves and poultices among her things, but trifling with an alchemist''s equipment without their guidance could only lead to ruin. Lastly he tilted her slightly to pull up her shirt and look at her back, where she was initially struck. Thankfully nothing more than a bruise was blossoming there, and while it would hurt like hell her life was in no risk from particular injury.


    Then it was on to Slink. The stubborn marten categorically refused stitches, doubtful of Pug¡¯s skill in the matter. Pug didn¡¯t admit it to his friend, but the doubt was well founded. Any stitches from the fairy would make you wish you¡¯d left the wound to heal as nature intended. They finally settled on a truce where Pug wouldn¡¯t stitch the wounds, but the marten would allow him to clean them all and apply his salve. The truce didn¡¯t stop the marten snarling and yipping as the spears were pulled from his hide, nor did it stop him from whining as Pug forced him to stay still and allow the salve to dry on the wounds, forming a sort pseudo scab.


    ¡°Is the dame going to be alright?¡± Slink asked softly, peering down at Lina in concern.


    ¡°Gnomes have notoriously thick skulls.¡± Pug reassured, hoping the worry he felt wouldn¡¯t bleed into his words and be heard by the marten.


    Slings were efficient weapons, and he couldn¡¯t help but call in his mind''s eye the bruise spreading across the gnome¡¯s back. Her kind were built hardy, but a blow to the head was a dangerous and mercurial thing. Recalling the flight of the stone he deflected and the impact it made against his club, which had since been discarded and his knife reclaimed, he knew if it had even hit him in the chest he¡¯d be in dire need of a healer.


    ¡°Are you able to move? Think you¡¯d be able to carry her?¡± Pug changed the subject.


    ¡°My shoulder is going to be a little weak. I could carry her, but it would be slow. We¡¯d have to be careful.¡± Slink explained, his tone apologetic.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get her on your back then. All this blood is going to attract attention.¡±


    Pug suspected Slink would have paled at that statement, if his furry friend was capable of doing so. There were things in the Wylde you absolutely did not want to run into, much less wounded and carrying an unconscious gnome. Those things would be attracted to the scent of blood, death, and rot like bees to a flower, and they couldn¡¯t afford to be here when they showed up. Pug had to employ his wings to help with lifting Lina onto Slink¡¯s back, the marten dipping down to make it easier to get her in her seat. If the marten felt any pain or discomfort he refused to let it show, remaining stoic as Pug tied Tourmaline onto his back with rope. Once he had her secure, he pulled his spear from where it hung among their bags, and loaded himself up with as much of their luggage as he could, hoping to somewhat alleviate the burden on Slink. He made sure he could still fly, and if the exercise took more exertion than normal then that was okay for now.


    That begged the question of where they went from here. Turning back to the gnome village was probably the wisest course of action. They¡¯d have actual healers there, with real experience dealing with head trauma. Of course, he¡¯d probably never be allowed to see Tourmaline again seeing how he had failed so miserably to keep her safe, and they certainly wouldn¡¯t let her continue her search for Jet. She¡¯d never forgive him, however even in light of all of that in combination with his ruined pride, he was beginning to believe it was the right call.


    Pug turned to get Slink¡¯s input on the matter when the crack of a tree branch being pushed aside sounded out behind them. The pair of them turned to regard this new threat, eyes widening and jaws dropping in horror, for from the side of the clearing near where they¡¯d initially entered the cursed place was one of the very beings they hoped to avoid by fleeing the area. Billowing gas sacks and uncountable humming wings kept the thing, for which Pug had no name, aloft. The beast nearly defied description, an amalgamation of disparate pieces of other creatures.


    It, whatever it was, made the decision for them. With any luck it would focus on the goblins and leave the wounded trio be, however it certainly wouldn¡¯t allow them to slip past it and return to the burrow. Worse, if they brought it back there it may become a threat to the gnomes in the long term. Slink seemed inclined to agree, nudging Pug into the woods as he backed away from the monstrosity. Once the underbrush hid them the pair bolted away, intending to get as far from the clearing site of the battle as they could.


    ***


    Their journey continued with the pair in much more somber spirits than they had started out in. Occasionally they would hear a disturbance in the forest behind them or, worse, the sounds of the forest would quiet as though danger loomed. Unknowing abomination that it was,  it appeared as though the monster was following them to some degree. He took on the role of a pathfinder as they wandered deeper into the woods taking to the air to find the easier and safer paths to traverse. This was as much an effort to put the memories from his mind as it was to be useful to Slink, who was suffering under the combined weight of his cargo and his wounds. It wasn¡¯t long before the soreness in his back was reawakened, strained from constant flight under the burden of the bags he still carried. He refused to give any of the load to Slink, even as the marten insisted upon it. Still, he wasn¡¯t so proud as to pass up any opportunity he had to walk, giving his wings a break any time their path did not need his input or surveying. It was not long before even this became excruciating, his legs burning under the weight and his sore with repeated impacts.


    Still, neither Pug nor Slink made any complaint. Indeed, neither of them even spoke much to one another, the both of them paranoid, furtively glancing about for the source of every movement and noise. Soon the afternoon faded into evening, and evening into night, the pair of them relaxing slowly as they began to understand the distance they¡¯d put between themselves and the creature. Unfortunately as the tension left them they began to slow, the adrenaline sustained them finally running dry. Pug was on the verge of calling for a stop when they rounded an ancient old oak and found themselves face to face with a decrepit old castle. The thing sagged with the weight of years and deterioration, stones having tumbled free and settled at the base of its walls like toys scattered in front of a child¡¯s toy box.


    Slink and Pug locked eyes, the pair of them exhausted enough to agree with nothing more than the expressions on their face to sleep there tonight. The fact it was abandoned, falling apart, and most likely haunted did little to dissuade either of them, their weary bodies long past caring at this point. Anything was better than lying out in the open waiting for more goblins, or worse, to ambush them. Pug came abreast of Slink, pausing to check on Tourmaline before they continued on. Her breathing was shallow and her face pale, though it looked like some color might have returned to her complexion. He hoped so, at least. He brushed a lock of hair out of her face and her lips twitched, perhaps speaking in her dreams.


    They trundled down to the gate of the fort, treading on the vestiges of a path nearly entirely reclaimed by nature. The gate ahead of them stood out among the age and decay of the surrounding furnishings, the wood bright and freshly hewn. The only part of the gate that looked like it was original to the fort was the metal banding that held it all together, a long strip of blackened iron worn with age, faint speckles of rust beginning to eat at the material. Pug nodded at the suspiciously recently redone gate, startling as the gate opened and began to swing inward. Slink glared suspiciously at it, the darkness inside the courtyard giving the aperture the aspect of a beast lazily yawning its mouth wide to accept them inside. The stones lying about, shed by the wall and battlements as age wore at the structure, framed the mouth-like orifice like old crumbs from forgotten meals. Pug shook off the rising suspicion that, should he cross the threshold, he would be its next meal.


    A light flared into existence beyond the gate, growing closer. Upon emerging from the gateway the small light illuminated a wizened old man. The poor, ragged fellow was whip thin and his clothes hung off his body in voluminous curtains. A red knit cap perched atop his head and flopped with each clomping step he took. This sandwiched his eyes with his bulbous and similarly reddened nose, leaving them shadowed. The old timer was missing more than a few teeth as far as Pug could see as he smacked his lips gummily.


    ¡°Can I do ya fer?¡± He babbled. Slink gave the fairy a particular look, making it clear Pug was the one expected to do the talking.


    ¡°I hate to be a bother, but could we stay the night? We were waylaid by bandits and our friend was hurt.¡± Pug explained slowly.


    ¡°Nuh food fer ya.¡± The old man smacked his lips.


    "That''s alright, we brought our own food.¡± Pug reassured him, not unkindly.


    The elderly man scratched his head in thought. He inspected under his fingernail, presumably to see what the scratching had freed. Uninterested in his finger¡¯s bounty, he blew whatever it was away with a harsh exhalation. His casual uncouthness brought Pug¡¯s sense of smell into the line of fire for the man¡¯s rancid breath, and it brought tears to his eyes. Pug tried to cough them away inconspicuously as the man continued.


    ¡°C¡¯mon in. Gots some blankets for yas. Maybe some herbs or some¡¯n. Yer friend looks like she could use ¡®em.¡±


    The old man was gruff, to be sure, but apparently quite accommodating. He led them through the ward and into the keep proper. It was hard to see much in the evening gloom, but what he did see was as poorly repaired and maintained as the outside of the castle led him to believe. Except for the gates themselves, at least, which had Pug very curious.


    ¡°Do you live here all alone?¡± He ventured, probing delicately.


    ¡°Yessuh. E¡¯ryone else lef ages ago.¡±


    ¡°And you stayed? Why?¡± He asked curiously as the man nodded.


    ¡°Only home I known.¡± He said simply


    Conversation ceased then, the old timer done with talking and Slink and Pug far too exhausted to hold the conversation on their own. He led them into the great hall of the keep, a wall in the far corner crumbling and taking the floor of the room above with it. Pug and Slink choosed a portion of the floor as far from the breach as possible and brushed it clean of the larger debris. Pug laid out Lina¡¯s bed roll before pulling her off of Slink¡¯s back and laying her atop of it.


    He took the opportunity to check his friends¡¯ wounds, exchanging Lina¡¯s bandage for a new one. The poultice seemed to be working, preventing the wounds from festering and going septic. In fact, the wounds seemed to be healing a little faster than naturally would. Baba had earned as many tributes as he could carry once he was back home. His mood was only slightly dampened by the fact that, even with Baba¡¯s nearly magical medicine, Lina showed no signs of waking up.


    ¡°You said you might have some herbs?¡± Pug called to the man, who lingered in the near distance, eyes glittering softly.


    ¡°Yessuh, if¡¯n you¡¯d be followin¡¯ me.¡± He moved with surprising alacrity given his apparent age, for he was almost at the stairwell before Slink spoke up.


    ¡°There¡¯s something hinky with this guy.¡± The words rasped forth in a harsh whisper. Pug gave him a reassuring pat on his good shoulder.


    ¡°I know Slink but it''s better it happens now than when I¡¯m dead asleep, see?¡± He said, mimicking Slink¡¯s accent.


    Slink looked unconvinced but nodded in agreement anyways. Pug propped his spear up against the wall, but made sure he brought his knife with him. With a whispered reassurance he would watch Tourmaline, Slink gave his friend a look of concern as Pug moved into the darkness. Moving at a light jog he caught up with the old man quickly.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name, old timer?¡± Pug asked nonchalantly. Regardless of what happened next, it would be nice to have a name for the man.


    ¡°Red.¡± The man was still terse, however it didn¡¯t seem he realized Pug¡¯s suspicions.


    ¡°Red? Why¡¯s that?¡± He asked, genuinely curious.


    ¡°Hmm.¡± The wizened face took on a thoughtful expression as he hummed in thought. The humming, and thinking, went on for long enough Pug was growing concerned. Finally Red¡¯s face lit up and he pointed at his own head. ¡°Hat!¡±


    ¡°Because of your hat huh?¡± Pug snorted. ¡°Fair enough.¡±


    The stairs opened up into what would have been the lord¡¯s bedroom. Or given the remote nature of this fort, it would have more likely been the garrison commander¡¯s. Nearly the whole outer wall had fallen into the wilderness below and the only furnishings were a moth-eaten bed and a worn down dresser next to it. The dresser was between the bed and the open air, rather precariously positioned, water damaged bulk teetering over the void. Red gestured at the dresser, however, indicating to Pug the promised herbs were inside.


    How convenient. Pug thought to himself snidely.


    He sidled along the narrow stretch of floor he had to maneuver with, inching closer to the dresser. Falling wouldn''t kill him, or even risk hurting him, but it would leave him vulnerable and unable to respond for a moment. After a few shuffling steps he made it to the drawer, bracing himself against the adjacent bed while he pried the drawer open. As he worked at it he spoke.


    ¡°Well Red, I¡¯ve got one more question.¡± Pug spoke a little louder.


    The wind had picked up as the evening cooled and now howled along the ragged edges of the breach in the wall. They had climbed three stories up the tightly enclosed spiral staircase to arrive here, and were relatively high up for most people their size. Red harrumphed, a reaction Pug took to be permission to continue.


    ¡°You said you were here alone, Red. So how¡¯d you get that fancy new gate installed all on your own?¡± Pug asked, palming his knife as surreptitiously as he could.


    He turned to look at Red, expecting the man to be where he left him at the door to the room. The man was not as old and frail as he seemed, for in a flash he was bounding towards him. He leapt over the bed, crossing it diagonally and slamming into Pug, grasping the hand held the knife in an iron grip. Red¡¯s other hand clenched tight around Pug¡¯s throat, firmly choking him.


    ¡°Thought you were clever, boy?¡± Red snarled.


    His mask slipped, the illusions reinforced the image of a doddering old man falling away to reveal glowing yellow eyes burned sullenly in his recessed eye sockets. Spittle flew from his mouth in a fine spray, covering Pug¡¯s face. Pug tried to respond, his voice reduced to a choking gurgle that consumed any snide remark he would have tried to make. He hadn¡¯t known what this man was before, but as the illusions fell away the truth became clear. He was a powrie, which should have been obvious in retrospect given his red knit cap.


    ¡°I saw what ya did t¡¯ my boys. They wasn¡¯t smart or strong but they was mine, fairy.¡± He leaned in even closer, until Pug could feel the heat of his skin. ¡°Ya beat ¡®em, and ya left ¡®em there for monsters to pick at. Yer going to pay for that.¡±


    Pug found it annoying that the goon spoke so clearly now, after dropping the facade. His accent before had been grating, but it was far more suitable for the powrie than the menacing stone he used now. He tried to turn his hand and slice at the powrie with the blade he held, but the yellow eyed man noticed and slammed Pug¡¯s hand against the dresser, sending the knife clattering to the floor.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s time for you to listen. I¡¯m going to kill you and gut you and soak my hat in your innards.¡± So that¡¯s where that smell is coming from! ¡°And once I get my youth and my power back, I¡¯m going to go down there and kill your furry ferret friend. The girl though, the girl she¡¯ll be glad she¡¯ll never wake again.¡±


    Red punctuated his sentence with a wicked smile. Pug snarled and spat, his throat working against the constricting hand to speak. Another dull gurgle made its way out, and the powrie¡¯s eyes belayed a morbid curiosity. He loosened his grip to allow Pug to speak.


    ¡°Wassat, fairy? What¡¯re ya tryin¡¯ to say?¡±


    ¡°I said you forgot one thing.¡±


    ¡°Wassat?¡±


    ¡°Bumpkins like you can¡¯t fly.¡± Pug smiled viciously and pushed against the bed, throwing the both of them into the open air.


    The powrie grasped desperately for the dresser, but the unbalanced furniture tumbled off the edge with them. His hold on Pug¡¯s throat loosened further in his surprise which allowed Pug to worm his way free, though the powrie¡¯s ragged nails tore furrows into his throat. Pug hovered in the air as he watched Red tumble through the air. The unfortunate servant of darkness never got his bearing and landedtop first into the rubble in the ward below. Pug drifted lazily down the impact site, sheathing his knife and rubbing at his wrist where the powrie had held him.


    There, lying among the stone was the broken body of Red. The powrie tracked Pug with hateful eyes and his mouth worked to speak though he made no sound. Pug touched down lightly and leaned over, resting his hands on his knee. He regarded the dying creature coldly, watching him suffer dispassionately for a moment before speaking.


    ¡°Also, my friend in there, he¡¯s a marten.¡± Pug announced pettily.


    Confusion wracked Red¡¯s features as the light faded from his eyes. Pug waited a bit longer until he was sure Red was no longer with the living before staggering back inside the keep. If Slink hadn¡¯t thought it odd Pug was entering through the front door after going upstairs, he was certainly alerted when he saw the blood flowing down Pug¡¯s neck and soaking his shirt. Pug waved a dismissive hand and approached their baggage, freeing the medical supplies for the second time this day.


    Pug plopped himself down next to Slink heavily. Using a waterskin he soaked a rag and cleaned his wounds before applying the same poultice and bandage technique he had for Lina and Slink. As he worked he spoke, mostly to keep himself awake.


    ¡°How¡¯s Lina?¡±


    ¡°Breathing. She¡¯s not gonna hop up and dance a jig, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking. How¡¯s the old fogie?¡±


    ¡°Would you believe me if I said he was sleeping peacefully?¡± Slink chuffed at this, jostling Pug who was leaning up against him at this point.


    ¡°What was he?¡± Slink said, disquiet shadowing his voice.


    ¡°A powrie.¡± Pug said, going on to explain as he felt Slink¡¯s confusion through his warm fur. ¡°A red cap. They¡¯re a higher form of goblin. They soak their hats in the blood of those they slay, using dark magic to keep them young and strong. This one had been a long time between soaks, though. He was about to dry out and perish.¡±


    ¡°Any relation to those goblins who jumped us earlier?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, he made it sound like he was their boss. We shouldn¡¯t expect any more of them, goblins are pretty timid without a strong leader to wrangle them.¡± Pug assured. ¡°If any are left alive, they¡¯re scattering to the hills.¡±


    Pug left it at that as he finished applying his bandages. He put away his supplies and set them to his side, but didn¡¯t have the strength to stand and put them back in their bags. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trying to muster the strength he needed to do a few more things before stopping for the night. He vaguely heard Slink ask something further, but before he could ask the marten to repeat himself he was drifting off into sleep. He was fast asleep when Slink curled his body around him, covering Pug with his tail to keep him warm through the night.

 Chapter 9

    Thalia woke to muted sunlight, dogs barking, birds singing, the muted chatter of people beginning their day, and the piercing ringing of her alarm bell. Her eyes snapped open, immediately beginning her search for the annoying little thing, hoping it hadn¡¯t gotten far. She was lucky to catch it early, the device sitting on the edge of her nightstand with its legs dangling over the edge. Its uncannily human face was turned toward her and Thalia was once again convinced there was a petty, mischievous intellect driving the thing. Eleanore swore up and down any item left her shop was nothing more than a complex machine, unable to think or feel. Thalia had her doubts, as the alarm clock her friend had gifted her seemed to delight in startling her awake. Crafted in the form of a little man, the figure was constructed of silver and was painstakingly fashioned into the likeness of a man in a military dress uniform. Strapped to its chest like a marching bass drum was a large, proportionally to its size, bell. Scale it up to human size and it would look like it was a member of the All King¡¯s Day parade. It performed its function as an alarm clock by slapping its hands onto the bell in a swift staccato had the clapper inside careening back and forth wildly, creating a high pitched cacophony that felt like it would wake the dead.


    Reaching out slowly, delicately, Thalia attempted to pat the automaton on its head, the trigger which would silence the devilish thing. She hoped one day it would make this easy, but today was not that day. The metal man adroitly leapt to its feet and lashed out, slapping her hand away. Thalia couldn¡¯t help but let out a squeak and stuck the finger the thing had assaulted in her mouth to soothe the pain. She gave the annoying thing a venomous glare, and it returned the favor by thumbing its nose at her. Thalia rolled out of bed and onto her feet in a rage, but the little automaton was faster, hopping off the nightstand and onto the floor with a metallic clink. A series of tinkling musical sounds issued forth as it broke out into a run, each footstep making a distinctive clinking could barely be heard under the continuous ringing of the bell.


    She let out a harsh curse under her breath as she scurried after the thing. The cursed creation wouldn¡¯t stop until it was caught, and ignoring it wasn¡¯t an option. It would follow her around the house at a distance, allowing for no peace. Although Thalia needed no more reason than simple petty annoyance to stop it, it was also true many of the townsfolk were wary of the automatons Eleanore created, the magic and mechanical machines she called Eidolons. Her neighbors just barely managed to stomach the fact she allowed it in her home, they¡¯d not fare well with a drawn out morning commotion if she chose not to bother with the thing and let it run free. It took her two laps around her bedroom to catch the thing, leaving her feeling sweaty and filthy by the end of it. Thalia couldn¡¯t help but feel like the machine let her catch it, couldn¡¯t help but perceive a smug sort of aura coming off of it. Whatever Eleanore said, the device gave off the impression it was too clever for its own good. Still, it was a gift from a dear friend, and she¡¯d not give it up easily. Her neighbors knew first hand, and no longer broached the subject of the alarm clock.


    Thalia checked the time on the clock installed into the little automatons back, making sure she had enough time to bathe before she started her day, as she usually did since receiving the Eidolon from her friend. Thalia set the device in its place on her nightstand as she navigated to the bathroom adjoining her room. As she ran the tap she couldn¡¯t help but remember Eleanore¡¯s father, a brilliant man who had brought running water to the city of Midburg only fifteen years ago. Pioneering the modern sewage system, he¡¯d turned the city from a filthy cesspool into something that was almost pleasant, and cities around the nation were following suit. Eleanore was racing to catch up to, and soon surpass, her father¡¯s many achievements. Her Eidolon¡¯s were critical creations that were going to change the nation, and perhaps even the world.


    Thinking of the satisfaction her friend found in her work naturally led Thalia¡¯s thoughts to her own work, and her dissatisfaction therein. Nothing had changed for the Warden so far, her superiors giving her the runaround as they ordered her to complete menial tasks and chores all around the office. Even the senior Wardens on the team found her busy work to do, keeping her well and clear of any acne of actually participating in the investigation. Her report regarding the two suspected smugglers she¡¯d chased through town was taken and given to another team, the smuggler¡¯s connection to the Faerie Dust investigation tenuous at best. She¡¯d retraced her steps on her own time, always coming back to the storefront with the stunningly attractive owner. For some reason though, she couldn¡¯t bring herself to step inside and speak with him again. It was true she had no reason to be there as a Warden, but she was on her own time. She didn¡¯t feel like she was nervous to speak to the man, though his beauty might have warranted it. Whatever her nerves, finding the store had proven to be the real obstacle, as tracing her steps seemed to send her in circles.


    She put any thought of work from her mind as the copper tub filled, sliding into the hot water and letting out a contented sigh. There were more things to life than work, like this bath, or the dinner she had scheduled with Eleanore on her next day off. She needed to visit her parents too, even though her father would badger her to quit the Wardens and come work at his shop. She found his concern sweet, even if he was a little pushy about his concern for her safety. Dinner with Eleanore though? was always enjoyable. Her thoughts idled for a moment as she daydreamed, fantasizing about good food and even better company. She was only slightly peeved when the Eidolon slapped its bell once, letting her know she had to get moving or she¡¯d be late.


    Thalia left the warm embrace of her bath with a sullen sigh, unplugging the drain and wrapping herself in a fluffy towel to dry. She finished getting ready in the bathroom, applying a light spread of cosmetics in a method she referred to as ¡®professional style¡¯ in her own head. She¡¯d always worried senior Wardens and Inquirers would find too much makeup to be unprofessional, so she saved her energy for days off to get truly dolled up. She tied her hair back with a leather thong before slipping into her uniform, a routine was now optimized by experience. The straps and buttons of the uniform were done up quickly, brass buttons glimmering softly as she gave herself a once over in the still slightly foggy mirror. Satisfied with today''s look, which was every other work day''s look, she strode out of the bathroom, returning the small wave the Eidolon gave her as she left with a wave of her own.


    She waved to her neighbors as she emerged into the morning light, several of them gathered together in the yard across the street to keep each other company as they washed clothes. Elsewhere along the street others brought in firewood, or scurried down quietly on their way to wherever they needed to be day, the occasional diminutive forms among them likely children headed to their apprenticeships. A few of the neighborhood brats had finally come of age at once, leaving the area quiet and empty. This neighborhood was one of the nicer in the city, and the families here paid well to see their children learning under the finest artisans, if they didn¡¯t train them in the family business instead. Mikhail, her neighbor, emerged from his timber framed red brick home with a basket of clothes, clearly intending to join the others for the morning chore.


    ¡°No Alexander today? Did he manage to slip off before the sunrise again?¡± She teased. Alexander had a tendency to try and shirk what work he could and Mikhail had the tendency to let him.


    ¡°Boy hit his thirteenth year last winter. He¡¯s off with his mother learning to smith.¡± Mikhail said, a sigh of relief close behind.


    ¡°Already? I could have sworn the boy lost a milk tooth just yesterday.¡± Thalia furrowed her brow, a little unnerved at the ruthless advance of time.


    ¡°Aye, I remember that!¡± Mikhail favored her with a good natured glare. ¡°You told him fairies would come and steal his tooth if it didn¡¯t come out soon. He was so scared he could hardly sleep until it came out.¡±


    There was a moment of quiet happiness as the two of them remembered Alexander¡¯s preoccupation with fairy bogeymen coming to steal his teeth. It was as sweet as it was brief, for Thalia had to get to work and Mikhail was eager to join the gossip-mongers circle around the wash basins. Thalia made her goodbyes, giving one last parting jab over her shoulder.


    ¡°Don¡¯t fret too terribly about your empty nest.¡± She jabbed. Mikhail had always spoiled his children, and now his youngest was on his way to becoming an adult Mikhail wouldn¡¯t know what to do with all the time on his hands.


    ¡°They grow up far too fast. You won¡¯t be laughing when you¡¯re in my shoes, mark my words.¡± Mikhail grumbled back, sassily slapping down his wash basin with the other¡¯s. A hearty chuckle bubbled up out of Thalia as he scrubbed his clothes a little more viciously than he had to.


    Her pace picked up all on its own as she fell into her usual rhythm. Thalia¡¯s pace had always been brisk and business-like even before she had managed to get into the Wardens, and it served her well as she navigated through the crowd of her fellow pedestrians. Her neighborhood wasn¡¯t far from Hob Street, one of the main thoroughfares cut through the middle of the city and acted as the economic heart of Midburg. Skilled craftsmen operated out of a variety of storefronts, interspersed with stores that saw to every conceivable need. Indeed, the First Bank of Midburg called Hob its home, its elegant marbled exterior standing out against the gray stone streets and red brick buildings around it. It loomed proudly over the intersection of Hob Street and Parade Boulevard, aptly named for the celebrations all but shut it down each season. Wagons and palanquins pushed past each other in a dance brought them all frightfully close to colliding. Pedestrians, far more delicate, flowed like water around the outskirts of the square in distinct clumps that were large enough to fight for right of way. Stalls crouched in front of storefronts where they could, temporary constructions made permanent by no more than the passage of time and the patchwork repair of their owners, who hawked wears with loud cries and wild gesticulations.


    The place was rife with opportunity for pickpockets, and every day passed without a traffic accident was a miracle in and of itself. She wisely kept her coin purse tucked away, though her aura as a Warden was enough to drive most would-be thieves to easier prey. Without breaking stride she slapped a coin down on the countertop of a familiar stall, snatching the proffered kebab from the tanned hand of the man running the grill. He gave her a wink and a smile as he pocketed her payment, an amount would normally have been broken up into change. In Thalia¡¯s mind it was well worth the slight tip to have her breakfast ready and waiting for her every morning, for she preferred her meal more heavily spiced and less thoroughly cooked than most and the time she saved on waiting for it to be done right went directly into extra sleep every day. She ate as she walked, wolfing the juicy, flavorful meat down with manners so poor she could almost hear her mother scolding her. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Inquirer Reid¡¯s opinion of her was unlikely to improve if she were to arrive with a mouthful of food and she was quick to finish eating as she passed through the front door of their office, tossing the wooden skewer in the wastebasket. She used her pocket mirror to check her teeth for any stuck food, found she was in the clear, took a deep breath and pushed into the room set aside as a command center for their investigation. The room was about half full now, meaning while she wasn¡¯t early she was most certainly not late. She stood near the back of the room, letting the remaining Wardens that were trickling in take the available seating just in time for their morning briefing to begin.


    The last of her coworkers drifted in, bleary eyes taking in the available seating. Inquirer Hart looked none too thrilled to be here, and gossip amongst the Wardens made it clear he was riding out his position until he could retire. He sat at the periphery of the room in a broken down, slumped over wreck of a chair that had outlived its life as furniture. Hart¡¯s head tipped back as soon as he was settled, and Thalia suspected the man had fallen asleep. She eyed his face, with its crow¡¯s feet and salt-and-pepper hair and tried to confirm he was napping. Her little game came to an end as the telltale clicking of Inquirer Reid¡¯s cane sounded down the hall. In a flash Inquirer Hart¡¯s eyes flicked open and he sat upright, apparently ready to appear alert for Reid¡¯s benefit. Reid threw open the door, his eyes finding Hart immediately, tightening with suspicion but moving on quickly as he failed to find anything remiss about his behavior.


    Reid stood before the podium at the front of the room, pushing papers about on its flat surface. The briefing itself ran about the same as every other before it, a general status update given by Reid before he turned it over to his sub-commanders who gave their reports and fielded any questions before moving along. Thalia herself didn¡¯t have any reporting to do, nor did she actually answer to any of the sub¨Ccommanders under Reid. No, the Inquirer made very sure she answered directly to him, and she found herself nowhere near anything even remotely important or dangerous.


    Still, she paid close attention as each of them spoke, hoping to learn from their example and understand the investigation as deeply as she could. A small hope still burned in her chest Reid would give her more responsibilities, more duties beyond grunt work. That said, as far as she could tell little progress had been made. Excuses were made and promises given, but they were no closer to figuring out where the Faerie Dust was coming from. Reid looked less than pleased, and Thalia could sympathize. This was the royal capital, and certain authorities were almost certainly leaning on the Inquirer to achieve some sort of result.


    The last Warden¡¯s report dwindled off into a nervous silence, one lasted a heartbeat too long before Reid began to issue his orders. For the most part they boiled down to ¡°stay the course¡± with the occasional change up in a patrol route or a dispatch to a point of interest. Thalia liked to think she waited patiently as Reid addressed each of them in turn, but her fingers twitched as she tapped her foot rhythmically against the floor. She ground her teeth as Inquirer Reid¡¯s eyes slid over her without pause, eliciting several sympathetic glances from the other Wardens as they left the room. Reid turned to gather his papers as the room emptied, forcing Thalia to approach him, long strides carrying her to his podium. Reid glanced at her as she stopped, pausing for a moment to listen to her speak.


    ¡°What are my orders sir?¡± Thalia hissed through her teeth. His gaze returned to his reports


    ¡°Ah yes, I need you to run these over to the Archives,¡± he waved vaguely over a stack of papers set aside on the podium. ¡°And this is a list of items I need you to pull while you¡¯re there.¡±


    Thalia bit her tongue and accepted the sheaf of paper from Reid with no word complaint. More busy work to keep her out of the way, but all the same someone had to do it. She simply turned on her heel and stalked out of the room with the papers clutched close to her chest, eyes burning. She felt his gaze on her back but she didn¡¯t return it. Thalia fled out of the building and out of the street, pawing at her eyes. Pedestrians scattered before her upon seeing the expression on her face as she all but ran to the Archive, its stark edifice looming above as she approached.


    Thalia had become a known element at the Archives, where the various archivists and clerks knew her by face at the very least, if not by name. The older clerks responsible for handling the removal of items from the had not warmed up to her at all, watching her with hawk-like eyes and pursed lips as they accepted the files she turned in. They tutted and clucked, turning to the arcane management system they used to sort and organize their dockets and files, parsing and pulling apart the esoteric rules designed to foil any outside intervention. At least was how Thala felt, as she still had not learned their system to any respectable degree. Most of her time was spent trekking up and down the various aisles in tow behind fresh young archivists who were still learning where everything was. Brushing dust off of old tomes and binders spanned the breadth of known writing mediums, from parchment and vellum to papyrus and paper, Thalia hunted down the items on Reid¡¯s list. The only thing they didn¡¯t have were stone tablets, though Thalia wouldn¡¯t be surprised if some were rattling around in the basement.


    How long it took her to emerge from the stacks she didn¡¯t know, couldn¡¯t know, not with the windowless walls and the unchanging magic lanterns illuminating the interior of the building. She wasn¡¯t sure how helpful Anatomies of the Wylde: of Fairies and Hobs by Jonathan Holden would be, as the running assumption was Faerie Dust was not something fairies made at all, but it wasn¡¯t hers to reason why. Instead she ferried the requested items to the front desk on a trolley issued out specifically for such endeavors, its age made apparent by the sticky limping nature of one of its wheels. She double checked her list as she went, making sure she had everything Reid wanted. She triple checked it as she piled them on the front desk, the clerks noting what she was taking and packaging them neatly. She had only failed to acquire a book that was on hand in the Archives once, but the sheer disappointment he had expressed then made her loathe to do it again.


    By the time she checked out she was left with a stack of material spanned from her hips to her chin. It was unfortunate, then, that the trolleys were not to be taken from the Archive. A fact made abundantly clear by the clerks every time she came here. She was forced then to cradle them with her hands and take small, waddling steps. While the Archive wasn¡¯t far from the Warden¡¯s office she operated from, it was a good few blocks she was forced to take at a crawl. She didn¡¯t want to see how any of the old biddies at the Archive would react if she damaged any of their materials, though she wanted to call to the office for help even less. Several Wardens passed by her going to and fro from the office, most of them looking harried and stressed though all of them made sure to clear her path. Some shot her teasing smiles as they saw her predicament and though none made to grab the stack of materials, one nice young man was kind enough to hold the door open for her as she made her way inside. Likely none of them wanted to risk the Archives ire if they were to damage their precious papers.


    It was at least somewhat gratifying to see Inquirer Reid had the decency to look slightly apologetic upon seeing her struggling with the stack. He sped across the room as quickly as his hobbled steps would allow, the hand wielded his cane struggling to keep up. When he reached her he picked up each book, reading the title aloud before distributing amongst the Wardens in the room. The individuals he distributed them to were fresh recruits with little experience, much like Thalia herself. Unfortunately there were few rookies on this investigation, and when everyone had a book Thalia was still left with a little less than half the reading material she¡¯d originally had. He gestured at the books and papers left in her hands in a way that meant he expected her to read them as soon as she could. Thalia let out a sigh and sat at her desk, coming face to face with Anatomies which sat atop the stack.


    ¡°Alright Jonathan Holden, let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got for me.¡±


    As she thought, fairies were not particularly dusty, and no part of them was addictive or hallucinogenic, at least not naturally. Setting aside Anatomies she moved onto the next title, which looked even less likely to be helpful. This continued for her entire shift, the monotony broken up only once when she found a particular essay written in Middish, which she had to send off to be translated. She¡¯d made an appreciable dent in the stack by the time Inquirer called an end to the day. Her fellow Wardens collected and locked up their resources and reports, handing over what they could to the night team, who was more of a skeleton crew who existed to make sure if any incidents of note happened over night there was someone on hand to take care of it. Thalia¡¯s position had no night shift equivalent, so she wedged a clean piece of silverware between the pages of the book she was on before packing up. The one nice part about her role is there was little urgency to it, and she could easily finish off her reading tomorrow. She made her goodbyes to the other Wardens and strode off into the dimming sunlight.


    She retraced her path from this morning, dyed red in the sunset and far less crowded than it was morning. She stopped by the kebab cart and got her dinner, exchanging trite pleasantries with the vendor before meandering away. She ate as she walked, savoring the meat now she had nowhere important to be. She remained vigilant, eyeing alleys and shadows for criminals and pickpockets, though none made themselves apparent. Instead she saw children returning from their apprenticeships, meeting to play in the scant few hours of sunlight that remained between the end of their workday and curfew. She remembered how excited she was attending the school where they trained hopeful Wardens, meeting with her school friends in cafes and restaurants. She saw the children home, without them noticing, as they filed into the houses on her block. Their energy had put a smile on her face, one died as she opened her front door and entered her home.


    Her home was a mess, furniture tossed about and flipped over, dishes scattered across the floor and nearly every other surface. Her walls were spattered with the remnants of her trash bin, her paintings and portraits askew or laying on the floor. Heart pounding Thalia drew her blackjack, a feature of her Warden¡¯s kit she had never had cause to use until today. She strained her ears, trying to sense if whoever did this was still in her home. She moved through her hall, checking room by room, each one of them as devastated as the last.


    She came to the last door at the end of the hall, her bedroom, and pushed it open with her club raised high. The bedroom was mercifully empty, though the damage was the worst here. Her covers were shredded and her pillows torn open, spilling their feathery guts all across the room. The chaos was so intense she almost missed her only clue. For, nestled there amidst the carnage atop her bed, was a neat little pile of white chrysanthemums.

 Chapter 10

    Pug woke with crusty eyes and a mouthful of fur. He sputtered and spat helplessly as he cleared his eyes with one hand, the other struggling to lift Slink¡¯s tail. He stumbled free after a bit of wriggling, his newly available hands pulling clumps of hair off of his tongue as he stumbled out into the morning light. He shuffled over to the well and pulled up a bucketful of water which he used to wash his face and rinse out his mouth of the last few stray hairs clung persistently to the deepest crooks and crannies of his mouth. Once he was cleaned, or at least cleaned as he could be with nothing more than a bucket of cold water, Pug refilled it and nearly lost it as he pulled it out of the well, the rope securing it snapping and falling apart. Pug gave the mangled old cord a frown before tossing it back in the well. It wasn¡¯t likely anyone would be using it again regardless.


    In the darkened hall Pug set about doing the chores he would need to start the day. He kindled a fire and withdrew a pot from their collective baggage to boil water in. He, of course, found one in Lina¡¯s bags but was more than a little uncertain if he should use it. He scraped at the inside of the vessel with a questing finger before withdrawing his hand and sniffing at it tentatively. It didn¡¯t smell very alchemical, but he wasn¡¯t sure it meant it wasn¡¯t contaminated by some concoction or another.


    ¡°What are you doing with Lina¡¯s pot?¡± Pug¡¯s eyes flicked over to Slink, who was watching him with a bemused grin. The fairy covered his startlement with a cough and a quick retort.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to make sure I won¡¯t accidentally poison the water.¡± His words were terse and clipped by embarrassment, though he hoped the marten didn¡¯t pick up on it. He slapped the pot down over Slink¡¯s nose before the marten could say anything. ¡°Now smell this and tell me if it¡¯s clean.


    ¡°It¡¯s clean, it¡¯s clean! It just smells like metal.¡± The marten¡¯s voice was tinny and nasally as he whipped his head back to free his snout. He skittered back, eyeing Pug and the pot in his hands warily. Pug ignored him though, satisfied if the marten¡¯s finely tuned sense of smell hadn¡¯t picked anything up then the pot was at least mostly trustworthy. He filled the pot with the contents of the bucket and set it on the fire before tossing it away into the shadows in the corner of the room


    While he waited for the water to boil Pug moved over to Lina, who had been hidden under Slink¡¯s tail until the furry creature had fled from the might of the pot. Pug¡¯s so-far congenial mood soured as he checked her over, noting she was just as pale as she had been the night before. Slink¡¯s fur was stuck to her sweat-slick skin, and the only positive change Pug could see was her breathing had deepened and normalized overnight. Letting out a sigh, Pug picked himself up off his knees and went to his bags, where he rummaged about for a few scrap articles of clothing, which he cannibalized for rags. These he dropped into the now boiling pot of water, watching them intently for several minutes before using his knife to fish out the largest looking of the batch. This he let cool to the point of handling before bringing it to Lina. He paused for a moment, standing over her, shooting Slink a look.


    ¡°She hears nothing about this.¡± His voice was flat and serious.


    Slink sobered and looked away as Pug began the awkward and painstaking process of bathing an unconscious friend. The silence of the hall was broken by the occasional shuffling and groaning, punctuated by sharp whispers of ¡®why-are-gnomes-so-blasted-heavy¡¯. He laid the gnome back down on her bedroll with a sigh of relief once he was done, immediately fishing out the rest of the smaller rags. These he used to clean her wounds, most of which were small and innocuous and not at all life threatening. The worst by far was the wound on her head, the flesh around it red and inflamed even though there was no pus in the wound. Pug cleaned it thoroughly and applied another poultice before applying a fresh set of bandages. While he had the materials out he did the same for Slink, who dipped his head in gratitude as the fairy worked.


    done, he dried and dressed Lina as best he could in some of her spare clothes. He took up the old bandages and rags he used to clean her wounds and began to feed them to the fire. Slink watched on with a curious twinkle in his eye. As Pug tossed the last scrap in, he spoke.


    ¡°Why¡¯d you burn the bandages?¡± Slink asked, his tail covering his nose as the foul smelling smoke wafted past him.


    ¡°Goblins were just living here, and they¡¯re likely to come back once we move on. They never forget a hovel they can scurry into. They¡¯re wicked creatures, and a shaman can work many fell magics with someone¡¯s blood. It''s best not to let them have access to it, even if it is old and befouled by the time they get to it.¡±


    Pug¡¯s mouth twisted in disgust. Goblins and evil magic were topics disturbing enough to leave a foul taste in his mouth. The idea of them digging up their trash pit to pull dirty rags out of it turned his stomach, and when Slink spoke again he was grateful for the distraction.


    ¡°Sorry I couldn¡¯t be of more help with¡­ well, all of it.¡± Slink said sheepishly.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright Slink, we each have a job to do. Hers is to heal, mine is to help her while she does .¡± A mischievous grin split his face as he continued. ¡°And your role my friend? Your role is to carry her.¡±


    ¡°Alright, alright, cool it for a second. We¡¯ll load her up after I get a chance to eat something.¡± Slink sighed. ¡°You stay here, I¡¯ll be back lickety-split.¡±


    Slink bounded out through the gaping hole in the wall of the building, his wounds hardly impacting his dexterity. Pug was left with little else to do but eat his own food in silence, keeping a concerned eye on Tourmaline as he forced down what he could before packing up their things. He¡¯d have to figure out some sort of treatment for her soon, or else he¡¯d have to start making broths to try and feed her. Worry gnawed at him with no distractions to keep him otherwise occupied, and he brushed a lock of hair from her face, half hoping she would grumpily slap at his hand for disturbing her slumber.


    Thankfully the marten returned surprisingly quickly, no evidence of his recent meal aside from the vague scent of blood. His meal was evidently very satisfying, for he suffered through the laborious process of getting the gnome onto his back and getting her strapped in. Pug had the marten take an experimental lap around the building to verify everything was secure, adjusting a few of the ropes and straps for Slink¡¯s comfort. The marten seemed to be confident he could go the distance, though neither of them were sure what distance would be precisely, so they set off and left the keep behind them.


    ¡°I suppose we should backtrack to the gnome burrow. What do you think?¡± As much as it stuck in his craw to go back to them, his friend¡¯s life was in the balance here. He began to brace himself for the welcome he¡¯d receive after what he¡¯d let happen to Lina, but Slink surprised him.


    ¡°I know of a village that¡¯s pretty close to here. One with a healer.¡± Slink¡¯s voice trailed off nervously.


    ¡°And what¡¯s the matter with it, Slink? If it has someone who could use healing magic then that¡¯s Lina¡¯s best bet.¡± As much as he wanted to push for them to depart immediately, Slink wouldn¡¯t show so much trepidation if there weren¡¯t real concerns.


    ¡°It¡¯s in the Owl King¡¯s territory. As a matter of fact, it''s right next to his roost.¡± Slink looked away with the marten equivalent of a scowl.


    ¡°Wait, what? How is the heart of his domain so close?¡± Pug asked incredulously. He hadn¡¯t noticed them crossing into Owl territory, but then it didn¡¯t really matter to him. Not like it did to Slink.


    ¡°We¡¯ve been in Owl territory for a while, honestly. I thought it would be fine if we were just skirting by and traveling during the day.¡±


    This new information brought Pug to a stop as his mind whirred, considering the implications. Owls and martens were natural enemies, and even the intelligence of the variants found in the Wylde did little to assuage the hate and fear. They were supposedly at peace for the moment, but Slink wasn¡¯t supposed to be in their territory. No one would bat an eye if a trespassing marten were slaughtered here, in fact many of the Don¡¯s martens would say anyone foolish enough to cross into Owl lands deserved it. Pug wanted to warn Slink away, but the marten seemed to know what he was thinking and preempted him.


    ¡°Stop right there Pug. It wouldn¡¯t be good of me to leave a friend in a bind and if I did go, what would you do with Lina?¡± Slink asked calmly. ¡°Poor girl needs to get to a healer soon.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right, I wouldn¡¯t be able to carry her far.¡± Pug admitted. ¡°As soon as we get her to this village though, I want you to get out of here. Capiche?¡±


    ¡°Capiche.¡± Slink chuckled, disregarding Pug¡¯s stern tone as well as the stance he took with his hands on his hips, the fairy trying to muster up some sort of authority.


    The conversation died then, but not in a way that was uncomfortable or awkward. They fell into the same pattern as they had the day before, Pug ranging out and scouting the trail ahead and guiding the marten past any obstacles or dangers. The only difference this time was Pug had to do his best to follow someone from in front, which was more difficult than it sounded. He did his best to alleviate the issue by making sure to ask Slink for landmarks or directions, only to be frustrated by the fact the marten operated on an instinctual level.


    Despite that they still made good time, Slink¡¯s shoulder evidently healed enough to support Lina¡¯s weight at least a little better than before. They were both still worn, and had to be careful not to over-exert themselves as they moved. Pug found himself walking alongside Slink fairly often, worrying over Lina whenever he could. He tutted and fluttered about, dabbing away sweat until Slink would snap at him. Then he¡¯d go back to scouting, only to begin the cycle again when he wearied too much to fly.


    It was to both of their relief, though perhaps more to Slink¡¯s, who was at his wit¡¯s end with Pug¡¯s fussing, when they stumbled across the village Slink had mentioned right around noon. Despite being in the air at the time Pug failed to see the village, twitching in surprise as Slink called out to him. Pug looked about, seeing nothing. They had just breached into the space below the outstretched arms of a massive oak tree. It''s great boughs and wide leaves allowed enough sunlight through to see, though the area was dim like it was perpetually under the approach of a storm. In such a dark, damp environment, littered as it was with leaf litter and detritus, an abundance of mushrooms grew. They flourished in the shade of the tree, clustered between massive roots in dense packs.


    The majority of the mushrooms were of the iconic cap-and-stem variety, though each of them grew far larger than Pug was accustomed to. Even stranger, they were all vividly coloured in such a manner as to be strikingly vibrant even in the shadow of the oak. The caps ran the gamut of colors, across the entire spectrum, perched atop milky white stalks stubbornly holding their garish hats to the ground. In any other creature such vibrant colourings would mark them as poisonous, and Pug had no reason to suspect these mushrooms were any different. It was only then Pug saw small forms scurried to and fro, between the thickly set stalks and underneath the riotous colors of the caps. Indeed, the mushrooms were actually arranged in a pattern, the very largest amongst them set in the middle, and the rest radiating out in a spoked circle from it.


    Before his very eyes Pug watched an individual walk right up to a mushroom and pull it open, revealing a door set into its flesh. The creature strode inside of what Pug now realized was not just a fungus but perhaps a home or business. Pug dropped lower to get a better look at the hustle and bustle of this strange little village, unfortunately catching the attention of the guards. Immediately they began to point to the outer edge of the village, where the two roots framed it opened wide and burrowed more deeply into the ground. They made gestures Pug was accustomed to, those landbound beings everywhere made when they wanted you to get down on their level. Pug floated away from the village and to its edge, landing in front of a rather surly looking guardsman.


    ¡°Announce yourself and your purpose here.¡± The guard said, his voice like the hollow whisper of wind through trees.


    Pug normally would have respected the guard for getting straight to the point, but he found himself somewhat distracted by the creature¡¯s visage. Its body was made of pale yellow fibrous strands interwoven and bundled together in the rough approximation of a bipedal form, though it had no discernable features. No nose, mouth, or eyes were set in its ¡®face¡¯, the being¡¯s surface instead a porous mess of gaping holes where the gaps between each strand of material made itself evident. The thing looked like a straw doll, or like it was made of wicker, but its material was far more flexible and robust than either. This was made evident as it brandished a spear at Pug threateningly.


    ¡°I apologize for the intrusion, but my friend got hurt by goblins during our travels. I was told there was a healer here, and I was hoping we could seek aid here.¡±If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°You want me to not only let strangers into our village, but let them seek our shaman?¡± The myconid, for Pug was relatively certain that¡¯s what this being was, scoffed. ¡°And where is your friend? I see no one with you.¡±


    Pug bit his tongue, the guard¡¯s mule-headed nature frustrating the fairy. Perhaps this one was descended from something particularly toxic, as his personality suggested. He forced himself to take a breath, advocating patience as he continued to converse with the guard.


    ¡°My other friend is carrying her here now. I was scouting ahead, and certainly couldn¡¯t carry her while flying.¡± Pug gestured behind himself to where he assumed Slink would be in a few moments.


    They myconid twitched, a reedy whistling seeming to signal it inhaling in preparation of some sort of snarky comment when it seemed to notice something over Pug¡¯s shoulder. Pug looked and saw Slink, right in the nick of time, trotting up. The marten was clearly eager to be beneath the cover of the mushroom canopy.


    ¡°Hey Ellie.¡± Slink¡¯s tone was chipper on the surface, underlied with iron. ¡°Do you mind if we get past you? Our friend here needs some help.¡±


    ¡°Slink. This is the last place you should be, ermine.¡± The mushroom-thing said, though Pug noticed it withdrew the spear it had been menacing him with. He struggled to hold back a chuckle as yet another person misidentified Slink, earning himself a glare from the other two members of the conversation as muffled noises of amusement slipped past the hand he pressed over his mouth to stifle them.


    ¡°I¡¯m a marten, and you know that.¡± Slink huffed.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to speak to the mayor about this. Wait here, and make sure you stay out of sight.¡± Ellie nodded towards the sky, indicating exactly what he wanted Slink to be wary of.


    Slink sat primly, hardly batting an eye under the withering scrutiny of the guard. Pug was shocked as the myconid simply shuffled away, clearly trusting them to remain where they were. Fairies didn¡¯t take guarding their village seriously either, but at least theirs was in the air above the forest floor. What made the myconid so confident he left the two of them here with no supervision? Perhaps Slink was simply well known and trusted?


    ¡°Well come on then, we don¡¯t have time to wait for this bureaucratic hullabaloo.¡± Slink hopped to his feet and trotted into the village, catching Pug entirely off guard.


    As he scurried after the marten, he came to believe Slink was simply known here. He knew his way through the village, sliding sinuously between people, stalls, and buildings with purpose, all the while responding to various greetings and well wishes from myconids who clearly knew the marten. The myconids were a diverse species, each one of them different from each other. They reflected the entire variety of mushrooms the fungus kingdom could encompass, and within the border of their village few of them made any attempt to look even remotely humanoid. Pug waved and nodded at them as he passed, but couldn¡¯t help but feel as though they stared after him awkwardly, as though affronted by this stranger in their midst. He was reasonably grateful when Slink finally slid to a stop in front of a mushroom near the center of the city, therefore making it one of the largest in the village. This particular specimen seemed to be larger than Orchid¡¯s mansion, though apparently its size did little to intimidate Slink who simply pushed open the door set into the flesh of the building with his snout.


    ¡°Inky are you in?¡± Slink cried into the open doorway.


    Pug could hear someone yelp in surprise, and the clatter of knocked over items and faint cursing sounded off. The cursing gradually drifted closer until a wispy, ragged looking myconid stood in the doorway. While their facsimile of a face did little to convey emotion, myconids seemed to have mastered body language for the new arrival looked incredibly surprised to see Slink in its doorway. This myconid had taken on a humanoid form, something Pug was beginning to think they did when they worked in roles where they were expected to deal with non-myconids. Inky looked all the world like the classical image of a witch, a wide brimmed hat shadowing what would be her face. Curtains of thin flesh material mimicked hair, which fell to her hips. Thicker sheets of mushroom flesh draped around her to make a dress-like formation. Its hem hung a hands-breadth from the ground, and the off-white color of the flesh made Pug think of an old wedding dress. Everywhere the panels of meaty white material came to an end it darkened, rapidly deepening into a pitch black condensed on these edges and seemed to drip away like¡­ well, like ink, Pug supposed.


    ¡°Slinky, wha-¡± Inky began before cutting themself off when they saw Lina on Slink¡¯s back.


    ¡°Oh my! You there, help me get her down!¡± Inky snapped, a sharp gesture indicating she meant for Pug to assist her.


    He leapt to immediately, untying the knots kept Tourmaline secured and lowering her gently into Inky¡¯s waiting arms. He took the gnome¡¯s legs, working together with the myconid to haul her inside through the yawning doorway. Inside the mushroom was a cavernous hall, each side flanked with rows of small cots with a thin sheet reminiscent of a mushroom¡¯s gills separating each of them and giving the occupant therein privacy. Pug could see a few shadowed silhouettes but little more, though most of the cots Pug saw were empty. They took Lina to the nearest cot, for even with the two of them she was rather heavy, and laid her atop it. Inky immediately began to look over her head wound.


    ¡°What is she?¡± The mushroom snapped.


    ¡°A gnome!¡± Pug replied almost without meaning to. He had to wonder if all myconids were so straightforward and direct, or just the ones he¡¯d had the pleasure of meeting today.


    ¡°Gnome. Good, I¡¯ve worked with gnomes before. Let¡¯s see¡­¡± Inky muttered to themself, lost in thought. Their pale fleshy face remained placid and serene, but their body bent under the weight of their stress as they considered solutions. Then the myconid seemed to remember Pug existed and waved him away.


    ¡°Go outside. I don¡¯t need you looming over me while I do my job. Go make sure the marten isn¡¯t making any trouble.¡±


    Pug hesitated, reluctant to leave Lina alone with the strange msuhroom. He wanted some sort of assurance she would be alright, but the myconid healer was already moving on, closing the membrane curtain surrounding Tourmaline¡¯s cot with a snap. Pug sputtered, wishing there was something more he could do for her while knowing all the while there was not. He was at least wise enough to know interrupting a doctor at work was a terrible idea, and so found himself doing as he was told. He strode outside to check on Slink, but the marten was nowhere to be found.


    Pug peered around in the gloom, the shadow of the oak tree redoubled by the thick fungal ceiling developed where the caps almost touched each other. Once his eyes adjusted he saw Slink off in the distance, by the largest mushroom sat in the very center of the village, which dwarfed even Inky¡¯s medicine hall. The marten was deep in conversation with a familiar face, Ellie, and another myconid who was wearing what Pug could have sworn was a three piece suit.


    Pug debated going to his friend¡¯s aid, but the conversation looked rather benign and he could not help but worry his own presence would disrupt . Since Slink was going to be busy for the foreseeable future, Pug sat down on the stoop in front of the door to Inky¡¯s hall, slumping back. A deep seated weariness, confusion, frustration, and worry warred for attention in his mind, and he struggled to put his thoughts in order. Bending forward, he crossed his arms over his knees and laid his forehead on them, closing his eyes.


    Though he only meant to rest for a moment and get his thoughts in order, he immediately drifted off into sleep. Having failed to get his thoughts and feelings in order, the sleep he found himself in was fretful and tense, a heavy weight draped across his mind as the vistas of color splotched darkness opened up into troubled dreams. Slowly form took shape, rough hewn walls and muddy floors, the air thick with humidity and the rank stench of sweat and filth.


    Distant crying could be heard, as well as yelps of pain. Pug tried to crawl through the mud, knowing he had to leave this place, but the thin slurry was slick and the floor of the room seemed to tilt to work against them so he was always crawling uphill no matter which way he moved. After ages of struggling he managed to grasp at a doorway, the floor behind him nearly ninety degrees in an effort to stymie his progress. Beyond the doorway tightly packed stone corridors wept blood from the mortar between stones, flooding the halls. The blood grew inches deep rapidly, and soon he would drown. He sloshed onward, navigating blind through snaking tunnels echoed distant screams, echoed his own screams until he could no longer tell where each piercing wail of despair had come from.


    He threw open door after door, their rough wooden bulk swelling with the thick moisture of the blood soaking them. They caught on door frames and the thick mud coating the floor, working with the weight of the blood, which was nearly hip deep now, to keep them closed. Each room he opened held twisted and ruined corpsed, menacing visages torn and cracked open by the long fall taken onto unyielding stone. They would bob as they floated in the fluid pouring in, twisting and turning until the redcap¡¯s twisted face came to resemble faces much more familiar and friendly. Had he killed them just as surely as he killed his enemies? Their exposure to him simply a poison killed slowly rather than the quick mercy of the blade? Jet, Slink, Lina, the scene repeated itself behind every door he opened until at last he came to the final door set at the end of the hall.


    He all but swam to the door, the blood up to his shoulders. Pug had to brace his leg against the doorframe to pull it open enough for him to see inside. An immense pressure behind the door forced it open against the weight of the blood, knocking him back. A tide of pale flesh cloaked in dirty brown wings poured forth in a torrent, nearly burying him. Pug backed away, but out of the tide of wings and body parts a bone white hand shot forth. The blood around him was like tar and Pug could do nothing to evade the hand as it reached for him. The tip of its fever reached his forehead as the echoing screams became crying and laughing, and it touched him.


    ¡­and it was¡­


    ¡­so cold¡­


    ¡­hoarfrost formed in his mind¡­


    ¡­the blood on his face thickened into a half frozen slurry as the hand caressed his face and-


    ¡°Pug!¡±


    Slink¡¯s wet nose was pressed against his forehead, its chill touch startling him awake. Pug twisted away, falling off the stoop in his hurry to flee the cold sensation. His eyes were drawn wide and his heart was pounding. His mouth was dry, but his throat was so tight it felt like it was swollen shut. He swallowed, loosening the know in his throat achingly slowly.


    ¡°You okay?¡± Slink asked, concern clouding his expression.


    ¡°Yeah. Yeah, I¡¯m okay, just a bad dream is all.¡± Pug¡¯s words were shaky and Slink eyed him skeptically, but the marten didn¡¯t push the issue further.


    ¡°If you say so. Anyways, I spoke to Inky a little bit ago. She¡¯s a good dame, whip-smart, and she said Lina was going to be alright.¡±


    ¡°Really? Where is she, can we see her?¡± Pug shot upright in excitement and tripped over his own feet, numb as they were from his brief nap on the steps outside Inky¡¯s hall. Slink caught the falling fairy gently with his snout and pushed him back into a seated position.


    ¡°Slow down a second, bo. Inky says she needs to be under observation for a little longer to make sure nothing¡¯s wrong with her head. She¡¯ll be snoozing for a few more days yet.


    ¡°Days?¡± Pug whispered. Did they have days? They had to be at Hummingbird Hearth soon, and it was still a distance off.


    ¡°Hey, pay attention chief. I need you to keep up cuz I have to get out of here. Night¡¯s coming fast and the last thing I want is to be right underneath the Owl King¡¯s roost when they start their hunt.


    Slink nodded at the massive oak tree the village was built in the shelter of. Pug gave him a surprised glance before worriedly staring into the branches above. He couldn¡¯t see anything, but that didn''t mean there wasn¡¯t anything there, especially when it came to owls. Who knew what eyes were watching, and what they saw.


    ¡°The Owl King lives in this tree? You have to get out of here, now!¡± Pug whispered harshly, prompting Slink to roll his eyes.


    ¡°I know I do, so listen up! The mayor is going to let you crash in his place until Lina¡¯s all better okay? He¡¯ll probably have you do some odd jobs around the village, but you¡¯ll be taken care of while she¡¯s here.¡± Slink gestured again with his head, this time at the grand mushroom in the center of the village where he¡¯d been speaking with Ellie and the other myconid before Pug had fallen asleep. ¡°


    ¡°What about the cost of Lina¡¯s care?¡± Worry clawed at his heart as yet another issue laid itself at Pug¡¯s feet, though thankfully it was quickly resolved.


    ¡°These guys owe me a favor or two, so don¡¯t worry about any of that. Just do me a favor and don¡¯t cause them any trouble.¡± Slink reassured him.


    ¡°Right, help with chores, keep my head down.That¡¯s doable.¡± Pug grinned.


    ¡°Excellent. I gotta hightail it outta here. Stay out of trouble and hopefully I¡¯ll be seein¡¯ you around Pug.¡± Slink made to leave, but found himself held in place as Pug¡¯s hands gripped his coat.


    ¡°Wait, aren¡¯t you going to meet up with us after this?¡± Pug choked out.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so, Pug.¡± Slink said gently, not quite meeting his eyes. ¡°I got some news from the mayor that I''ve got to get back to the Don. I¡¯m sorry, but this is as far as I go.¡±


    ¡°Right, well. Thank you for everything up to now Slink. Take care.¡± Pug tried and failed to hide his sorrow, his voice choking as his throat tightened painfully.


    The marten was already moving though, not looking back as he sped away. Clearly he wanted to be far from the owls come sundown, and Pug couldn¡¯t blame him for . Unfortunately it seemed to Pug without Slink, they had just lost any chance of getting to Hummingbird Hearth in time. Pug dropped his head into his hands, considering his options. He could go now on his own, and with his wings he could probably make it in time. He¡¯d travel lightly and rest seldomly, but it was doable. However, could he leave his friend here, in a village full of strangers? If something happened to her now he wasn¡¯t sure he could ever forgive himself.


    Pug ground his palms into his eyes as tears of frustration tried to make themselves gnome, smearing his hands wet with moisture. It wasn¡¯t long before the tears flowed enough to run out of his hands and down his arms. His only solace in the moment was that myconids couldn¡¯t cry, so he had nothing to be embarrassed about as he cried in front of passersby.


    Yeah, solace. He thought with grim humor did little to light his heart.

 Chapter 11

    Six whole days had passed since Pug arrived in the village. For six whole days he had been inundated under a litany of chores, and if getting to Hummingbird Hearth on time had been difficult before then it was impossible now. And as though the entire village was working together to keep his mind off of his dreary thoughts, the tasks kept coming in. He carried all manner of groceries and luggage, he transported wares and supplies, delivered mail, and once had even served as a secretary for the mayor. He was kept unremittingly busy from the moment he woke until the instant he collapsed into his bed. When he tried to ask after Lina he was told she was stable, but still needed time. When he asked after Inky he was told she was too busy to meet with him.


    So it was completely understandable, at least in Pug¡¯s admittedly biased opinion, that on the seventh day he would see his friend and he would cut down anyone who stood in his way. When he missed his morning check in the mayor, one Mister Crab Brittlegill, went to check in on his guest. He found the fairy in his room, fervently sharpening the head of his spear with his knife laying bare on the bed beside him, clearly next in line. Crab met Pug¡¯s gaze, looked deeply into the eyes of a man who had been given the runaround for a little too long, and promptly delivered the good news he¡¯d meant to share at their morning meetup. Lina had awoken the night before, and was finally able to accept visitors. If the myconid breathed like other mortal races, it would have let out a deep sigh of relief as the fairy stalked past him and out the front door without a word.


    ***


    The gnome was curled up into a ball at the bottom of a deep, dark hole. Stone surrounded her on all sides, and this was good for she was of stone and earth, gems and metal. The gnome dreamt no dreams and thought no thoughts, yet she was content. She did not want to dream, or to think, and the pit she resided in was good for because it hid her from such flights of fancy. She wasn¡¯t sure how long she had been in the pit, but over time she became aware of a distant light.


    Nebulous and faint at first, a green tendril of luminescence crawled its way down the stony walls of the pit. At first it was a distant thing, its glow hardly noticeable, but as it slowly quested forward with inquisitive probes the light intensified. It poked and prodded and doubled back from dead ends, slithering ever onward, ever deeper. Finally it reached the gnome, and seemed to be what it wanted. It enveloped her in leafy fronds and thick vines, bundling her tightly before it began to retract itself out of the mouth of the pit. Even though she was comfortable and content, the gnome did not struggle. To struggle would invite thought and strife and discontent, and she didn¡¯t want to think, didn¡¯t want to feel those things. To want to stay was to invite hopes and dreams, and she did not want to dream.


    So the gnome chose to remain content, and stayed in her leafy cocoon. She continued to not think, and refused to dream. She did not notice that outside of the green light encapsulating her a greater luminosity was taking hold. White and pure, this new light promised thoughts, feelings, dreams, and therefore pain. The gnome would have to enjoy her contentment while it lasted for soon enough it would be impossible for her to hold on to it.


    ***


    Pug flew low over the streets of the myconid township, whose name he was still unable to pronounce, disturbing pedestrians as he weaved his way through narrow city streets. Several myconids ducked and called out in irritation but he ignored each of them, favoring the loudest among them with a bitter frown. He¡¯d tried to go with the flow of foot traffic but myconids live with only slightly more urgency than their non-sapient fungal cousins. As he finally closed in on Inky¡¯s hall he cut his wings and dropped from the air like a stone, hitting the ground running and pushing through the doorway.


    He sped across the few short steps to Tourmaline¡¯s bed, the one closest to the door, where he¡¯d set her what felt like ages ago. Standing at her side was a nurse who leaned over her sleeping form, checking her vitals. She spun on one heel as he skid to a stop, her rather dull and expressionless doing absolutely nothing to hide the irritation she felt. She held one squishy gray finger to her faux lips, shushing him.


    The sense of worry Pug felt when he saw Lina was all too familiar. It had grown cold and numb in the days he hadn¡¯t seen her, but now it sank into his stomach like a leaden weight. She looked the same as she had when he¡¯d last seen her, though bathed and treated her skin was still sallow and thin. Her chest rose and fell with deep breaths, but her eyes remained closed. Pug bit his lip and gave the nurse an inquisitive glare. She forestalled any exclamation he would make with an outstretched appendage moved in a way he assumed was meant to be soothing. The nurse pulled him away a fair distance so they wouldn¡¯t disturb her charge.


    ¡°What happened? I¡¯d heard she awoken-¡± He began before she cut him off with a hiss.


    ¡°Shush, Meat.¡±


    Her voice had the same bland tone as most myconids he¡¯d spoken with, though with its own particular notes and flavors which indicated to Pug while she was being short with him, she was not being unkind. Neither was her nickname cruel. Indeed, many of the fungal lifeforms seemed to have conceptual difficulties with the idea of creatures being made of meat. To them it was a quirky characteristic, even if to Pug it sounded a little crude.


    ¡°Lady Meat is fine.¡± She reassured him. ¡°She is simply tired from healing. She sleeps now, and will wake when she is ready. The difference between now and before is you can wake her by yelling and slamming doors.¡±


    Pug was gracious enough to ignore their last jab, though he did feel the need to respond to at least one part of what she said.


    ¡°Please, don¡¯t call her Lady Meat. She¡¯ll definitely take the wrong way if she hears it.¡± The mushroom nurse at least had the decency to look confused.


    ¡°But she is a woman, yes?¡± She demanded. ¡°And she is meat! Tougher meat than you, but still meat.¡±


    ¡°Just trust me on this. Her name is Lina, you should call her if you can.¡± Pug insisted, gentle but firm.


    ¡°Your silly names are too much for me.¡± The nurse had now acquired the aspect of a jaded old biddy in Pug¡¯s mind. An old grandma who didn¡¯t have time to deal with young people''s idiosyncrasies anymore. ¡°She will be Meat and you will be Man Meat, then.¡±


    ¡°Hey, wait! That¡¯s even-¡± Pug sputtered.


    ¡°No more! It¡¯s final.¡± She stated before walking away, leaving him mouth agape.


    Pug had to chuckle, and secretly hoped she was just teasing him, though he doubted she understood the common tongue well enough to do so. He wasn¡¯t aware of any other patients in the clinic, so he wasn¡¯t quite sure what she was busy with aside from avoiding this conversation. He sat down on the stool at Lina¡¯s bedside with a small huff, wrapping her hand tightly in his own. Her hand was warm, which he took to be a good sign, and her face no longer drawn with pain, nor was it covered in sweat like it had been on their journey between the fort and the village. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    As eager as he was to hear her voice, to be absolutely certain she was okay, Pug had to resign himself to being patient. The urge to wake her bunched up in his throat and took up residence with the worry seemed to be a permanent feature there these days. Even if he did manage to wake her, he¡¯d wind up in trouble with both the nurse and Lina, who probably wouldn''t be in the best of moods. She¡¯d have every right to be angry with him. He led them straight into attack.


    Shaking his head, he pushed thought down, locked it away with the growing pile of things he didn¡¯t want to think about. In a futile attempt to force himself to relax, Pug crossed his arms on Lin¡¯s cot and laid his head atop them. He was a hand¡¯s breadth or two from her face in this position, and he suddenly found himself nurturing a small interest in seeing the exact moment she woke. He fixed his eyes, unblinking, on her face which was actually kind of cute. Though he¡¯d never admit to her.


    Perhaps it was arrogant of him to assume such a relaxed position, for within moments he could feel the weight of sleep beginning to deaden his limbs. He¡¯d not slept well since they arrived at the village, harried by nightmares that woke him from his slumber despite his exhaustion after days full of chores. Here, beside his treasured friend, he found himself relaxing enough to begin to drift away. His breath subconsciously synced with her deep, even breathing as his eyes crept closed.


    ¡°Pug?¡± Days worth of confusion hung on one simple word.


    Looking back, Pug would never be able to tell if he had managed to sleep, or if she had woken the very moment he let go. It would certainly be in character for her to wake at such an inopportune time as the moment he fell asleep. Whatever the case, hearing his name from her lips brought him to full awareness without even a speck of sleep lingering in his thoughts. He snapped upright, wiping the drool from his cheek where it had begun to pool. Tourmaline didn¡¯t seem to notice, her eyes, which were clear and bright, taking in their surroundings. A bit of color had returned to her face and he was struck by how different, how lively her expression was. How it completely contrasted her wounded stillness of the days prior.


    ¡°Where are we? What happened?¡± She looked a little lost, questions burning in her eyes as faced him.


    ¡°W-what do you remember?¡± Pug stammered, dumbly, still startled by the sudden turn of events.


    ¡°We¡¯d just been ambushed by those horrid creatures. I was going for my satchel, but that¡¯s the last thing I really remember. A bit of fighting after that?¡± She frowned, her face twisting with concentration.


    Pug nodded and cut in, filling her in before she worked herself up. He explained the ambush, and the hit she¡¯d taken from the goblin slinger. He told her about the journey to the myconid village in broad strokes. He¡¯d attempted to circumvent the fort entirely but his friend was more alert and astute than he¡¯d expected and she questioned him intensely when he stumbled in his explanation. Pug reluctantly covered the fight with the goblin¡¯s boss, flinching when he saw the guilt flash through Lina¡¯s eyes. He¡¯d expected her to react like this, upset she¡¯d not been there when he and Slink were in danger.


    ¡°You were hurt so badly, you couldn¡¯t have done anything to help even if you¡¯d been awake.¡± Pug said soothingly, trying to assuage her, in his opinion, misplaced guilt.


    She seemed slow to accept she bore no responsibility for her condition, at least until Pug chided her rather sternly about taking on burden¡¯s she didn¡¯t have the right to bear. He finished off the tale with their arrival to the village. She didn¡¯t seem to have any questions about the monstrosity that had entered the clearing after their fight, which was good as he was still unsettled by the abomination. There was a moment of silence as Tourmaline guzzled water directly from the pitcher left at her beside, her hand raised to forestall any talking. Only once she¡¯d completely drained it did she lower her hand and allow him to speak again.


    ¡°Slink was amazing though. He carried you, and the majority of our gear all the way here. Make sure you thank him next time we see him.¡± Pug stated. Everything had happened seemed like so much less in retrospect, though Lina looked upset to have missed it all.


    ¡°Next time we see him? Where¡¯d he go?¡± Tourmaline looked a little hurt he¡¯d abandoned her, but Pug was quick to explain.


    ¡°He had to leave pretty quickly.¡± Pug stammered. ¡°Apparently we¡¯re right under the Owl King¡¯s roost, so this isn¡¯t exactly friendly territory for him.¡±


    ¡°Is he going to meet up with us?¡± Tourmaline asked, biting her lip. ¡°It¡¯ll be hard to get to the Hearth without him.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll deal with it later, for now you need more rest.¡± Pug stood, preparing to leave. ¡°I know you gnomes are sturdy but you took some serious hits.¡±


    Pug studiously ignored the surge of anxiety her words brought him. They weren¡¯t going to make it to the Hearth, but telling her now would only distress her. He assured himself he¡¯d talk to her about it when she was feeling better, but her ponderously slow movements and weary eyes had him wondering exactly how long would take. Biting back his worry like a rising tide of bile, he grasped her shoulder and gave it a squeeze before she sank back into her cot.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, we¡¯ll talk later. I know I''ve been sleeping for days, but I¡¯m actually quite tired.¡± Lina¡¯s words were faint and slurred, eked out between jaw-shattering yawns.


    ¡°I¡¯ll come visit when I¡¯m done with work.¡± Pug half-whispered, punctuating his goodbyes with a small wave.


    Tourmaline¡¯s bleary gaze followed him out the front door, though she looked tired enough he wasn¡¯t sure she was comprehending anything she saw. He emerged from the healing hall into the vibrant light of the noonday sun, and found himself standing on a street that was nearly deserted. Myconids tended to avoid the brightest and hottest times of day, making the middle of the day a traditional period of rest in their village. Pug wasn¡¯t sure why, but whatever the reason it allowed him to fly as fast as he pleased back to his temporary accommodations.


    Reassured of Lina¡¯s health, he threw himself into his work with gusto. He¡¯d hardly touched down before setting about his chores, cleaning the floors and furniture, taking out the rubbish and the other odd jobs they had laying about. Pug found the trash the fungal creatures left behind to be terribly interesting. There were never any scraps of food in the trash bins, nor paper. Trash in the myconid village tended to be scraps of metal or stone, glass and other inorganic things. Pug hadn¡¯t seen what they did with the rest of the rubbish, and he had a feeling he really didn''t want to.


    Pug¡¯s workday was relatively uneventful, though he ran into the mayor once in the midst of his work. He apologized profusely for taking the morning off, though the mayor firmly reassured him it was fine. The fairy was grateful for his forbearance, and for the work in general if he were being honest. The constant manual labor kept him from dwelling on the churning sense of unease in his gut.


    He went for lunch a little later than he usually did, stopping by the kitchen in the middle of the afternoon once he had completed his chores. Myconids didn¡¯t have to cook their food to eat it, but they seemed to enjoy the taste and had a particular fondness for meat. The mayor¡¯s chef gave him a veritable banquet of meats to choose from, and Pug studiously picked the dishes he could identify from among them. The chef swore all of his ingredients were above board, but Pug couldn¡¯t help but worry the fungus people had a different philosophy regarding what was edible. Pug brought his modest meal back to his room as eating alone seemed to be the norm here in the village.


    The food was delicious, if a tad over- or undercooked depending on the dish. They understood seasonings with a clarity few chefs back home could match, but they understandably had a wider range of tolerance for how thoroughly cooked their meats ought to be. Likewise, meat was rarely integrated into other dishes. Instead they were served as steaks, or strips were breaded and fried. He finished it quickly, having little else to do and nothing to occupy his mind.


    Sitting in silence, his heart began to whisper. Lina was awake now, and one way or another meant they were leaving. He¡¯d gotten her hurt once already, and without Slink with them it was sure to be more risky. Was he going to get her hurt again? He¡¯d very nearly led his friend into death in the pursuit of Jet, and he wasn¡¯t sure he could justify it . The idea of Tourmaline leaving the village at all made him want to puke.


    As the rising tide of dread and fear began to choke him Pug¡¯s mind scurried for a way out. Looking at the problem from the other end left him feeling just as helpless. The thought of abandoning Jet had him feeling just as twisted up inside, guilt taking its spot beside its bosom-buddy self loathing at the mere thought. He fretted over his options long into the night, and when he finally got to sleep it was a fretful and restless thing. His dreams, terribly and horrifically familiar to him now, smelled of blood and echoed with screams.

 Chapter 12

    Pug woke the next morning in a malaise of bleariness tinged through with a stress induced energy. He awoke earlier than he needed to but lacked the will to leave his bed, instead tossing and turning in the wee hours before he was finally forced to reluctantly dress himself. Emerging into the hall outside only partly put together, he beat his wings lazily as he walked. It wasn¡¯t enough to lift him off the ground, but it did make him feel a bit lighter at least. He briefly considered going to visit Lina, however he decided against it when he remembered the conversation looming on the horizon.


    Resolving to put off the truly arduous tasks towards the tail end of his day, he leapt to his chores with an alacrity that surprised the mayor and his servants. They left him to it however, seeming to read his mood in his body language and wanting little to do with it. Pug didn¡¯t notice their aloofness, indeed he thought of little at all as he worked. While such empty-mindedness was soothing in the moment, it had the downside of making the day pass in a flash. He tried to find more work to do, only to find himself chased out of the mayor¡¯s home by the lead servant. The slender, wisp-like mushroom bid him to return in an hour or so once dinner was ready, leaving him in the street with few reasons to procrastinate visiting Tourmaline.


    Shuffling away from the mayor¡¯s home under a cloud of gloom, he kept his eyes downcast as he thought how best to broach the topic weighed on him. He walked the town¡¯s streets today, nodding and greeting other pedestrians mechanically as he slid between them. A few myconids had seen him flying about the day before, and hardly hid their complaints regarding the irrationalities of ¡®meat¡¯. They gave him the myconid equivalent to glares as they sped around him, turning the faux faces and sensory organs to glare at him.


    He arrived at the clinic having made no progress deciding how to approach Lina. With no other options, he resolved to approach her head on and steeled himself. He threw open the door and, though he thought himself prepared, found himself frozen in the opening by Tourmaline¡¯s disapproving stare. She sat straight up in her cot, eyes bright and sharply focused on him, a slight frown curving her lips.


    ¡°What took you so long? I¡¯m bored.¡±She snapped, clutching her blanket tightly. ¡°They won¡¯t let me play with the samples we took on the way here!¡±


    ¡°They probably don¡¯t want you poisoning yourself while you¡¯re still recuperating.¡± Pug replied wryly.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t poison myself!¡± Indignation colored her cheeks as she puffed out her chest. She thought for a moment for deflating slightly. ¡°Probably.¡±


    ¡°Sorry for the wait.¡± Pug smiled guiltily. ¡°I had to do chores for the mayor, it''s part of the deal letting us stay here.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t exactly the truth, but it was close enough to mollify his friend for the moment. She nodded, her mood noticeably improving with his arrival. Pug regarded her closely, impressed by her gnomish constitution. Truly the healer was a large part of her recovery, but a discreet conversation with her had revealed Lina¡¯s own resilience was no small matter. It wouldn¡¯t be long before she was able to travel again. He was so intently focused she startled him when she spoke.


    ¡°I wish you didn¡¯t have to pay our debt all on your own.¡± She frowned. ¡°I wish I could do more to pay them back.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you worry about that.¡± Pug stated firmly. ¡°You¡¯re still recovering. I can handle doing some chores.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t be able to stay to make it up to the mayor anyways, we¡¯re already way behind schedule aren¡¯t we?¡± Lina asked, nervousness creeping into her tone. ¡°What¡¯s the plan, Pug?¡±


    Pug looked away, the hard knot of tension had formed in his chest since she¡¯d been hurt growing painful as his chest tightened. He ran his tongue over his teeth as he considered what to say. He could lie to her, reassure her, but dishonesty with his friends wasn¡¯t in his nature. He¡¯d already taken this too far, in his own opinion. With a shaky breath he made his decision and spoke.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have a plan Lina.¡± He said with his eyes on her hands where they sat in her lap, not willing to meet her gaze. ¡°I think we missed our window. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Baba said if we missed him at the Hearth, we wouldn¡¯t find him again.¡± She whispered back, voice raspy.


    ¡°She said it was unlikely.¡± Pug amended for her, though they both knew he was grasping for a silver lining. If Baba was pessimistic about their odds then it might as well be impossible.


    ¡°Don¡¯t bullshit me, Pug.¡± He watched as her hands tightened into fists around her bed covers, veins popping as her muscles tightened. ¡°You¡¯re giving up on him? Just like that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not. I¡¯m still going after him.¡± Pug growled, meeting her gaze.


    ¡°Okay, next time lead with .¡± Tourmaline frowned. ¡°I¡¯ll ask again, what are we going to do?¡±


    ¡°We aren¡¯t going to do anything. You are going to stay here and rest.¡± Pug stated firmly. ¡°I¡¯m going to go send a message to your dad to let him know you¡¯re here, and then I¡¯m going to set off for Hummingbird Hearth.¡±


    He didn¡¯t think she¡¯d take it well, and he was right. While Tourmaline was too stunned to speak, he could already see the heat rushing to her face and how her lips tightened with anger. His next move was cowardly and he knew it, guilt weighing on him even as he sprung up out of his seat and darted for the door. She¡¯d never forgive him, but it was better she lived to hate him.


    Pug had thought her stunned enough he could get away, but he hardly made a step before her hand snapped out and grabbed his wrist at an astonishing speed. She yanked him back towards her rather suddenly, losing his footing as he was violently slammed into the side of her cot. Then, deceptively gently, her other hand cupped his chin and tilted his face towards her. She didn¡¯t look nearly as angry as he expected, but he couldn¡¯t help but stammer out an excuse.


    ¡°If I drop most of my gear, if I fly the whole way and push myself I should be able to make it there.¡± Pug pleaded. ¡°It¡¯ll be close but it''s the best shot we have.¡±


    ¡°Why are you trying to leave me behind? He¡¯s my friend too, hell, he¡¯s more my responsibility than yours.¡± She said gently, and Pug loathed it. Anger he could deal with, but this? He wasn¡¯t ready for this.


    ¡°You almost died Tourmaline, do you realize that?¡± Anger was doing its level best to choke him now, and the unpleasant prickling behind his eyelids warned him he was about to cry. ¡°I was completely helpless to do anything. If Slink hadn¡¯t brought us here you wouldn¡¯t have woken up again.¡±


    Pug didn¡¯t yell, not like his dad did when he was upset. Pug¡¯s voice got quiet and fraught with withheld emotion, awkward and raw and he hated it. He abhorred the heat that came to his face as he fought back frustrated tears. He pressed his lips into a firm line, harshly but steadily drawing a deep breath through his nostrils, managing to normalize himself enough to continue.


    ¡°After I acted like I could take care of you in front of your people, I couldn¡¯t bear to send you back to them in a box, Tourmaline.¡±


    ¡°So, what, you¡¯re leaving me here because you¡¯re worried about how they¡¯ll think of you? Your reputation?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to leave you here because they were right. I can¡¯t protect you. At this rate I¡¯m going to get you killed.¡± He growled, cutting her off. ¡°This is too big, Lina. We¡¯re further from the woods I know, far from support, and I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going to happen next.¡±


    An oppressive silence covered them then, the kind makes you feel afraid to break it. Pug wasn¡¯t sure what Lina was thinking or feeling. If he were being honest then he had to admit he wasn¡¯t sure what he was feeling at the moment. All he knew was he still couldn¡¯t bring himself to meet her eyes as she released her deathgrip on his arm. She lifted to his shoulder and squeezed him gently before leaving it to settle there, a simple comforting gesture sent a knife of pain through his heart. Lina spoke, her voice soft and kind.


    ¡°You know, you¡¯re so adventurous and brave sometimes I forget you¡¯re a fairy.¡± She chuckled. ¡°And then you go and ruin it by saying the most selfish things!¡±


    Pug¡¯s head snapped up and he met her gaze, mouth opening in protest. She clapped her hand over it, shushing him.


    ¡°Despite my name, I''m not some precious treasure to be kept and protected. I chose to be here, to travel with you to save my friend.¡± She said firmly. ¡°It''s my fault I was taken by surprise by stone. You didn¡¯t risk my life, Pug, but you surely saved it. You idiot.¡±


    ¡°But-¡±


    ¡°No, none of that. I made my own choices, my own mistakes, and you don¡¯t get to take from me with your self pity.¡±


    Her response gave Pug pause, the weight behind them prompting him to consider her words for a moment. Perhaps it was some inherent bias, or years of escorting her and Jet through the woods, but at some point he had started to regard her as a responsibility, a parcel to be delivered. How¡¯d he feel if he got hurt, if she left him behind? He¡¯d feel like a liability, not a friend or partner.


    ¡°Even if you wanted to come, there¡¯s no way we¡¯ll make it to the Hearth in time, not if we go together.¡± Pug stated with an air of finality. ¡°I have to fly there to even have a chance of making it in the timeframe Baba gave us.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a good thing I have an idea.¡± Tourmaline¡¯s eyes sparkled with epiphany, and a smile curved her lips as she considered it.


    ¡°Well what¡¯s this idea then?¡± Pug asked excitedly, only to be cowed by Lina¡¯s glare.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think you owe me an apology first?¡± Tourmaline¡¯s tone brooked no argument on the matter, not Pug would have fought her on this. He was coming around to her position, and he thinked at the very least he ought to ask for her forgiveness.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Tourmaline, for being so selfish and caught up in my own head.¡± He bowed his head slightly as he spoke, hoping the remorse he felt was clear to her. There was a pause, long enough he started to get nervously fidget, before Lina spoke.


    ¡°As long as you don¡¯t treat me like a delicate flower, I forgive you.¡± Tourmaline allowed, favoring him with a small smile. ¡°You were reminding me of my dad, honestly. You two might get along better than you think.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± Pug¡¯s tone was doubtful, a displeased frown flashing across his face. ¡°Setting aside for now, what¡¯s your idea?¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we ask the Owl King to fly us there?¡± She asked excitedly.


    Pug¡¯s first instinct was to shut it down given how trepidatious Slink had been to get involved with the owls. On the other hand, while martens and owls were natural enemies the owls had no real reason to show them any hostility. They¡¯d likely have to offer something of value, or perhaps owe the Owl King¡¯s court a favor but was a price Pug could live with. Slink would be less than pleased, but Pug was sure he¡¯d forgive them if they explained the situation. Tourmaline, seeing Pug mulling over the idea, nudged him excitedly.


    ¡°Well? Would it work?¡± She asked. ¡°Could they get us there in time?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯d get there faster than I would alone.¡± Pug admitted. ¡°Owls are a damn sight faster than I am, and can fly for far longer.¡±


    ¡°We can make it!¡± Tourmaline gave a little fist pump, causing Pug to laugh.


    ¡°There¡¯s no guarantee they¡¯ll say yes.¡± Pug cautioned, trying in vain to set reasonable expectations. ¡°We¡¯d need to go talk to them first, before we can say anything for sure.¡±


    ¡°So time is of the essence? Excellent, turn around real quick and I¡¯ll be ready in a moment.¡± Tourmaline said as she threw back her covers.


    Pug whipped around to put his back to her before he saw anything he shouldn¡¯t, seeing as his friend was clad in little more than a shift. He tucked his chin and stared straight ahead, right into the floor, while bringing his hands up to work as impromptu blinders. It was all unnecessary, seeing as he¡¯d seen it all while caring for her while she was wounded, but he blushed crimson nevertheless. He couldn¡¯t help but hear her soft little grunts as she struggled to get dressed, and felt her shifting the cot as she wiggled around.


    ¡°I can wait outside!¡± Pug said. He attempted to stand from his chair, only for a firm hand to press him right back down.


    ¡°Oh no you don¡¯t. I¡¯m still not convinced you wouldn¡¯t just take off without me.¡± She opined. ¡°You and I are joined at the hip until we get to the Hearth.¡±


    ¡°What if I need to go to the bathroom?¡± Pug said, only half joking.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got nothing I haven¡¯t seen before.¡± She said, echoing his thought from earlier and causing the heat in his cheeks to spread to his ears, likely making them a bright red.


    Tourmaline removed the firm hand held him down from his shoulder, leaving Pug speechless with embarrassment. He had no intentions to leave her behind after their heart-to-heart, and now he was terrified she¡¯d chase him naked through the streets if he attempted it. His discomfort only grew when the nurse strode in, withering under her gaze as she clinically examined his now apple-red complexion. She looked at Tourmaline next, clearly upset the wounded gnome was up and about. Whatever she would have said was stifled as she suddenly recoiled, warded away but what Pug assumed was a venomous look from Tourmaline.


    Without comment the Myconid nurse turned around and walked right back out of the infirmary. A few moments later Lina walked around the cot and pulled him out of his chair. She was dressed in the clothes she had been wounded in, now washed and mended with fine stitching. At her behest they were out the door in mere moments, headed straight for the mayor¡¯s office to collect their things.


    Pug was escorted inside the mayor¡¯s home under Lina¡¯s watchful gaze, standing off to the side as she thanked the mayor profusely for his assistance while the mayor simultaneously thanked Pug for his aid about the village. Pug managed to say his goodbyes to the mayor before Lina prodded him to move on, heading to his room to collect their supplies. He was grateful he managed to say goodbye to some of the servants he had met during his residence here, and those he saw promised to pass his goodbyes to those who were absent. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Their things remained packed in their bags and containers, untouched since he had been here. It made it easy for the pair of them to load up, shouldering their packs with relative ease. Pug noticed Lina struggle for a moment to get the second strap on her shoulder, but he made no mention of it. His gnomish friend eagerly checked her alchemical components and reagents, having desperately missed them in the couple of days she spent lying awake in her cot. Once they were properly loaded up they holstered their weapons, slipping out of the room and back down the hall into the waning light of day.


    Pug was grateful on Tourmaline¡¯s behalf the trunk of the grand tree sheltered the village, and housed the Owl King¡¯s Court, which was not far from the mayor¡¯s manor. The wooden behemoth towered over the two of them, stretching so far into the sky they had to look straight up to see the point where the boughs split from the tree, and even then distance relegated many details to blurry interpretation. The tree was wide as well, its circumference stretching off into the distance in either direction. Circling the tree was manageable, however on this side neither of the pair saw an easy way up the trunk. Tourmaline, slightly dizzied from exertion and weakness, sat down on a nearby stone as she looked upon it.


    ¡°Alright, so how do we get up there?¡± She asked breathlessly.


    ¡°I¡¯m not too sure. I could fly up there and negotiate, and then have them come back down to pick you up?¡±


    ¡°Like I said-¡± Lina began, her gaze icy. Pug finished her thought for her, cutting her off.


    ¡°You and I are joined at the hip until we get to the Hearth.¡± Pug sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what else to do. It¡¯s far too tall to climb, even if you weren¡¯t injured.¡±


    A shuffled footstep behind them announced a new presence. They turned to see the mayor of the township trotting up to them, no apparent signs of exhaustion evident. The old mushroom walked up to them, looking the tree up and down. Pug and Lina joined him, the three of them regarding the tree, which was in fact quite majestic, silently. After a few moments of respectful silence, the mayor spoke.


    ¡°I thought you might be headed here.¡± Brittlegill explained. ¡°The owls are certainly the fastest way to get where you¡¯re going in the time you need to get there.¡±


    ¡°Do you know a way up?¡± Pug asked, not at all surprised the mayor knew the intricacies of their situation. He imagined Slink had been very forthcoming.


    ¡°The easiest way would be the lift.¡± The mayor stated simply. ¡°You¡¯re right though, you wouldn¡¯t want to climb it. bark has deceptively few handholds.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a lift?¡± Pug started. He didn¡¯t think the terrestrial myconids would have any need for something like .


    ¡°The Owl King expects tributes every now and then. ¡°The mayor explained, seeing Pug¡¯s surprise. ¡°We had one built to expedite the process, and make it a fair bit safer.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s the lift? I don¡¯t see it.¡± Tourmaline interjected, craning her head about curiously as she tried to find it.


    The mayor shot them the closest thing he had to a mischievous grin, or at least was how Pug interpreted the expression. The myconid official sauntered up to the trunk of the tree and stretched out an appendage, pressing against the part. To their mutual amazement the bark swung inward on hidden hinges, revealing a massive lift capable of carrying cargo to the top of the tree. The pair of them gaped in wonder as the mayor gestured them in, their first steps on to the platform echoing slightly up the shaft carved into the wood of the tree. Crab Brittlegill closed a gate and engaged a lever, starting the lift and taking the three of them up to the Owl King¡¯s Court.


    A brief inspection of the lift showed it was made of the same wood as the tree surrounding them, most likely from scrap material created during the hollowing of the channel. Greased chains supported it on either side, glinting sullenly in the dim light of the single lantern hung from the crossbar arching overhead. The lantern swayed from side to side on its hook as the lift glided up the shaft. Pug could see now the walls of the channel cut into the tree were sanded smooth, and treated with some sort of solution if the darkened grain of the wood were any indication.


    It made sense, as otherwise the channel would fill with sap or begin to rot. The more Pug thought about it the more he had to admit it was a wonder. Tourmaline seemed to agree, her fear of heights forgotten as she regarded the construction with interest. Her lips were pursed in thought as she examined the wood of their lift, assuming the two materials had received the same treatment. He watched as she leaned over to speak with Brittlegill, their conversation drowned out by the rattle of chains against gears. Whatever his answer, it seemed to satisfy Tourmaline as the inquisitive gnome gave the myconid a bright smile as the lift rumbled to a stop. She pranced off of the lift gleefully, pulling Pug along as he waved his goodbyes to the mayor.


    ¡°Good luck!¡± Crab Brittlegill said cheerily, disappearing from sight as he flipped the lever and reengaged the lift.


    ¡° was unnaturally fast, wasn¡¯t it?¡± Pug mused, peering over the lip of the opening to watch as the lantern¡¯s light dwindled and faded into the distance.


    ¡°It was! The mayor wasn¡¯t willing to share all of their secrets, but I''ve got some new compounds to mix when this is all over.¡±


    Pug looked over at her curiously, an amused smile forming on his lips as he saw she already had her journal in her hands. The gnome recorded her findings before she could forget them, snapping the weathered tome closed with a thump. No longer distracted by her discovery she favored Pug with a frown as she saw him, leaning halfway into the void left behind by the lift.


    ¡°Get over here before you fall.¡± She chided, lifting a hand to forestall him from reminding her he could, in fact, fly.


    A sharp clack resounded through the small hollow they stood in, prompting the two of them to stop their banter. They looked at each other with wide eyes before scanning the branches and canopy all around them. Perhaps it shouldn¡¯t have come as a surprise given how silently an owl can fly, but the piercing eyes of the entire court of owls looked down upon them from the murky shadows between the branches. Even in his shock, Pug knew the noise alerted him and his friend to their presence had been purposeful.


    Pug peered into the branches above them to see more than a dozen owls perched in what he had just moments ago perceived as empty space. Their eyes glittered in the low light of the hollow and, now their guests knew they were there, they twittered and hooted amongst themselves energetically. They seemed to be interested, or perhaps, amused by their guests though the muted sounds of their conversation slowly withered and died out as each owl turned to look to the edge of the hollow stood furthest from the roost.


    Sitting there was an owl easily half again as large as any other owl present. It twisted its head back and forth as it eyed them inquisitively. At one point he hopped to one side, bodily shoving aside the owl perched there. Pug swallowed nervously as the other bird, a creature many times his size and an impossible obstacle for a fairy like himself to move, was shoved aside like it was a fledgeling. Pug realized with no small amount of trepidation this must be the titular Owl King. Pug maintained eye contact as the bird blinked, well, owlishly, and licked his lips nervously as it cleared its throat to address them in Common.


    ¡°Ah, um, pardon but I rarely converse in this tongue. Am I correct in assuming you two don¡¯t come from the village below?¡± The Owl King blinked again as he finished his sentence, and every other owl Pug could see blinked at the same moment.


    The eerie synchronicity forced Pug to suppress a shiver as he replied. ¡°You would be correct, your Majesty, though they were kind enough to host us for a time. We¡¯re travelers, visitors to this place, and we were hoping to negotiate a favor.¡±


    ¡°So you aren¡¯t one of the funny talking mushrooms?¡± The Owl King asked, squinting.


    ¡°My apologies sir, my name is Pug and I¡¯m a fairy.¡± Pug clarified. ¡°And this is my companion Tourmaline.


    ¡°I¡¯m a gnome.¡± Lina cut in. A glare from Pug prompting her to add on a belated, ¡°Ah, your Majesty.¡±


    ¡°A gnome and a fairy traveling together, here to ask a favor of me?¡± The Owl King hooted merrily. ¡°What could I possibly assist you with today?¡±


    ¡°My apologies for imposing, but we urgently need to get to the Hummingbird¡¯s Hearth, my lord.¡± Pug repressed a shudder as they blinked in unison once again, continuing, ¡°A friend¡¯s life hangs in the balance and we¡¯re on a time limit. We hoped you might spare someone to carry us there.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± the Owl King hummed. ¡°I don¡¯t see any reason to refuse you, but I don¡¯t know what we¡¯d ask for in return. It¡¯s a short flight for one of us, and we don¡¯t need anything you could provide us. Suppose we just call it a favor then?¡± Blink. Pug could almost swear he heard a sound as so many eyes closed in unison.


    ¡°I would appreciate any assistance you could give, and if you¡¯re ever in the area of the fairy village I¡¯d be happy to assist you however I can.¡± Pug stammered, taken aback by the Owl King¡¯s apparent generosity which detracted from how unnerving their blinking was.


    ¡°So be it!¡± The Owl King chirped excitedly.


    Suddenly, as though released from some unnatural compulsion, the owls around them burst into a flurry of activity as they squawked and flapped their wings. With proper court decorum put to rest the owls began to hoot and titter amongst themselves excitedly, seemingly arguing over who would get to ferry their guests to their destination. Eventually a sleek, dusty brown she-owl stepped forward, bobbing its head. She pecked sassily at a few challengers, batting them playfully with her wings until they forfeited. The Owl King gave a subtle nod as she stood before him, apparently accepting her bid for the task.


    ¡°I will have Danica here take you in a moment, once she¡¯s ready.¡± She bobbed her head before fluttering away into the night. ¡°While we wait, tell me. What troubles your friend? I¡¯m most curious.¡±


    Pug was grateful when Lina took over, chattering away excitedly with the Owl King. She was heartened by his affable attitude and quick decision to aid them, though Pug couldn¡¯t really blame her. The fairy took the moment to relax, closing his eyes and savoring one of the few victories he¡¯d had recently. He had to give it to Lina, asking the Owl King for aid was a brilliant idea. It was at that moment, as he was riding high, the prominent crunch of talons gripping a branch drew his attention.


    A new trio of owls had winged their way into the hollow of the treetop, expert precision allowing them to weave their way through the branches and leaves. The rear two of the trio were still landing, joining the rest of the owls in their conversations. The third, whose arrival had snapped Pug out of his relaxation, had landed beside the Owl King. They conversed softly in their native tongue before the newcomer turned to regard Pug and Tourmaline. Pug felt a tug on his mind as they looked at the owl, finding him to look somewhat familiar. He was large, the next biggest after the Owl King himself. He realized who the newcomer was in a flash, and was about to urge Tourmaline to leave when the owl began to speak.


    ¡°Father, who are our guests? What brings such rare visitors to our kingdom? The owl¡¯s words were velvety and suave.


    ¡°These visitors came to us for a favor, Owen. They need to travel quite the distance to save a friend of theirs.¡± The Owl King hooted as the newcomer, Owen, tilted his head at Pug and Lina. Pug shivered as a spark of malicious glee lit in Owen¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°Father, I fear you have been tricked! These are the very same hooligans who attacked me a few days ago, in the company of a marten!¡± Owen favored Puig with a smug look as he finished his accusation.


    The Owl King and his court grew remarkably still as whatever compulsion welded the common owl to their lord¡¯s will stole over them again. More than a dozen pairs of eyes full upon Lina and Pug again, and the weight of them pinned Pug in place. Tourmaline, on the other hand, hadn¡¯t yet realized the owl was the same one they had fought before, though Pug could see the surprise and horror beginning to dawn on her.


    ¡°Is this true, little fairy?¡± The Owl King whispered, punctuating his query with a blink.


    There they go with that blinking thing again. Pug thought mirthlessly, shivering as the subtle noise they made crawled up his spine.


    ¡°My apologies, we didn¡¯t knowingly trick you. We weren¡¯t aware your son was the owl we fought.¡± Pug explained, though he held little hope honesty would save him now.


    ¡°They attacked me while I was hunting!¡± Owen cried indignantly, all but shouting over Pug.


    ¡°Where do you get off attacking another talking animal? Shouldn¡¯t you be hunting normal prey?¡± Lina interjected scathingly and Owen¡¯s eyes widened in surprise, his wings subconsciously flaring out to make him seem larger in his shock.


    Clearly the young owl didn¡¯t know he¡¯d been pursuing another intelligent creature. Ignorance was no excuse however, and the martens were unlikely to forgive the attempt. Pug could see as the Owl King processed this information, his eyes hardening and hollowing, losing all emotion. Pug swallowed nervously as the Owl King¡¯s demeanor changed, and when the large bird of prey spoke again the air was so thick with tension it almost vibrated with stress.


    ¡°It seems we will have to prepare for the marten¡¯s retaliation. must come later, however.¡± The Owl King intoned, staring at his son. Once Owen was suitably cowed he turned back to his guests. ¡°On the other talon, you insulted my son. I have promised you aid, and will not break promise, but the laws of the Wylde demand we address this insult. Don¡¯t you agree?¡±


    Under the laws of the Queen, Tourmaline and Pug could be seen as the guilty party here. An Owl hunting for a meal was a natural thing, and to intercede is to disrupt and insult their way of life. While the pup was of a higher order of marten, it could still be argued it was still eligible to be prey for a higher order of owl. Even if they argued their way free of any severe punishment, the process would take time they didn¡¯t have. It would be even worse if the Owl King forced them to bring in someone from the Queen¡¯s court to judge it all impartially. While the King was obliged to keep up his end of the bargain, he was able to put it off until his grievances had been redressed.


    left Pug few options, none of them good for Jet¡¯s longevity. If he were any other manner of creature, they might have had no options. Indeed, Tourmaline looked confused by the Owl King¡¯s declaration. However Pug was a fairy, the closest thing to being true-blooded Sidhe, and their litigious nature lived on in him. There was one final option that would force the Owl King to fulfill his bargain tonight, however it was arguably the worst available to them. Seeking reassurance, Pug reached out and grabbed Tourmaline¡¯s hand, squeezing it tightly.


    ¡°How badly do you want to make it to the Hearth?¡± Pug whispered.


    ¡°What?¡± Tourmaline asked, confused.


    ¡°Are you willing to risk your life for it?¡±


    ¡°Obviously.¡± Tourmaline scoffed, gesturing at herself, only having just recovered from her wounds.


    Pug smiled at before turning his gaze back onto the Owl King, proclaiming, ¡°I contest your claim. Your son offered insult to the martens, one of whom was among our party when we found him. Our interference was just, and if satisfaction is to be taken then it will be taken from your son.¡±


    Owen looked between his father and Pug with wide, ignorant eyes. Likewise, Tourmaline looked confused, though what had occurred was relatively simple. By becoming the accuser, Pug laid the groundwork for his next step. He¡¯d stolen the Owl King¡¯s momentum, and followed up quickly.


    ¡°In order to right the wrongs perpetrated by your son and to address the insult he issues to my friends, the martens, I challenge him to a duel.¡± Pug declared, quickly continuing before anyone could interject. ¡°That is, if the thought of fighting something other than a toddler doesn¡¯t scare him away.¡±


    ¡°You bug-winged cretin, I¡¯ll tear your guts out with my beak.¡± Owen hissed. ¡°I accept your challenge, on the condition you bring your friend with you. I¡¯ve never eaten gnome before.¡±


    ¡°Owen, you fool.¡± The Owl King screeched, battering his son with an outstretched wing.


    It was too late, however. While either side could have argued before a Court official they were the slighted party, a process which would have delayed Pug and Tourmaline for far too long, a duel was a much more immediate affair. Duels were old law, from the early days of the Wylde and the Court, and remained relatively unrestrained by modern trappings. Indeed, any attempt to stall the duel to prevent them from getting to Jet in time would be heavily frowned upon, and the Court may even impose penalties for doing so. Now Owen had accepted the duel, he¡¯d taken the possibility of a trial out of his father¡¯s hands. Or talons, rather.


    ¡°Very well, a duel to decide who is just.¡± The Owl King muttered angrily. ¡°It will take place at midnight. You will be free to use your weapons, as an owl¡¯s talons are considered a weapon in their own right. Prepare yourselves.¡±


    At the King¡¯s declaration the multitude of avians watching the proceeding began to hoot and cheer, once again free of their King¡¯s odd compulsion. Pug hadn¡¯t realized it had gotten so late, but upon hearing the hour a weariness began to take him and his stomach growled loudly. He realized now he¡¯d been so caught up in Lina¡¯s plan he hadn¡¯t eaten. Shepherding Lina to a remote corner of the treetop, he dropped his bag and pulled free his knife and spear, setting both aside. Reaching into his pack he pulled free a small chunk of cheese and hard bread, which he wolfed down ravenously. It was an hour or two after sunset now, and while they didn¡¯t have long to wait it was more than enough for him to get some food down before the fight.


    ¡°What the hell just happened?¡± Tourmaline muttered, digging a ration free of her own pack. ¡°Why¡¯d you ask for a duel with the Owl Prince?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the quickest solution. If his temper hadn¡¯t gotten the better of him, they could have bogged us down for days while we argued over whether we insulted Owen, perhaps even waiting for a Court official to mediate.¡±


    ¡°Alright then, we¡¯re dueling. Assuming I have no experience in dueling, which I don¡¯t, what¡¯s our plan?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to like what I have to say here.¡± Pug began. ¡°But the reason he chose midnight is because they can see far better at night than I can. Maybe even better than you, though your eyes are built for being underground. Worse than that, you¡¯re still not fully recovered.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to sit this out.¡± Line said stubbornly, her eyes flashing.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m not telling you to, though I don¡¯t think Owen would let you anyways.¡± Pug chuckled. ¡°No, what I¡¯m warning you is he¡¯ll probably go after you first. Predators tend to target the weak and wounded first. It¡¯s instinctual.


    Pug watched as fear tried to worm its way into Lina¡¯s heart before the gnome got herself under control. She took a deep breath, steeling her resolve, before opening her eyes and looking at Pug. She pulled her alchemical satchel to her chest, holding it close.


    ¡°Alright, so you won¡¯t be able to see and I can¡¯t fly. I¡¯ll be weak and easy to target, so he¡¯ll pick me off first then kill you while you¡¯re helpless. Is that right?¡±


    ¡°Exactly!¡± Pug said cheerily, testing the sharpness of his blades.


    ¡°What do we do?¡± Tourmaline asked, evidently exasperated with her friend¡¯s relaxed attitude.


    ¡°Luckily for us, I have something that might resemble a plan.¡± Pug favored her with a wicked grin.

 Chapter 13

    Several hours later night had pulled its dark cloak over the sky, and an inky blackness had fallen over the wild. Distant beasts called out, chirruped, and rustled through the woods below, but in the hollow of the treetop it was eerily quiet. The owls had taken up their perches in the branches, encircling the hollow entirely. The area there, which Pug now realized had been artificially flattened to make a place for offerings and landbound creatures who came to address the court, would be the arena for their duel. Across the smooth wooden circle stood Owen, hopping side to side in his eagerness to begin. At least, that¡¯s what Pug assumed. Honestly, the owl was nothing more than a slightly lighter blob against dark backgrounds, the clack of its talons impacting the wood resounding rhythmically informing Pug the bird was moving. The moon was waxing, and it should have been bright tonight, but the canopy above blotted out the majority of the light.


    Unsettled by his relative helplessness, Pug reached out a hand and grabbed for Lina. The distracted gnome let out a little squeak as his hand found her, not expecting the sudden contact. Pug paid it no mind, pulling himself closer to her as he tried to feel less exposed. Lina leaned in herself, bringing her mouth close to his ear as she whispered to him, her hot breath tickling his ear.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t much of a plan you know.¡± She said, still skeptical.


    ¡°You have anything better?¡± Pug asked archly.


    ¡°No¡­¡±


    ¡°Then by default it''s a great plan.¡± Pug smiled, convinced he could feel her rolling her eyes at him. His amusement was cut short as the Owl King spoke.


    ¡°My family, we are gathered here to bear witness to this duel to settle my son¡¯s perceived slight against the martens/ This duel is held in accordance with the law of the Wylde and the Court. As is custom, the duel will run until one side surrenders or dies. Are there any objections?¡± The Owl King waited to allow for any concerned parties to make their objections known. Pug shivered as the allotted time passed without remark, the Owl King¡¯s voice once again seeming to come from the shadows all around the fairy. ¡°Are the combatants ready to begin?¡±


    Tourmaline gave Pug¡¯s upper arm a squeeze as the fairy called out his acknowledgement to the Owl King. She broke away from him, making sure the pair had enough distance to avoid being taken out all at once. The Owl King signaled the beginning of hostilities with a piercing hoot. Pug brought his spear up in front of him in an attempt to ward off a frontal assault, at least. He could vaguely perceive a large blob disappearing into the murky shadows of the canopy, a gust of wind confirming the owl had taken wing.


    Silent flight is terrifying when you¡¯re on the other end of it. I have no idea where he is. Pug thought to himself, gorge rising as desperation and fear gnawed at him.


    He tilted his head back and forth, looking with his peripheral vision where he could, though it was only marginally better. Seeing twisting shadows in the darkness instead of pure darkness wasn¡¯t at all reassuring. His ears picked up nothing, and whatever other senses he had were drowned under his instincts screaming at him to run. He held himself in place with sheer will, trusting Tourmaline to support him.


    She¡¯s weak but you¡¯re blind! He reminded himself sternly, just as Lina called out.


    ¡°On your left!¡± She cried, voice shrill.


    Pug snapped around in an instant, bracing his spear against the floor just before something slammed into him with tremendous force. His breath was knocked from his chest, but he was rewarded by a warm spatter of blood soaked his hands and flecked his face. His spear was torn from his hands as he was forced to the ground, the convulsing and shrieking owl pinning him. He gasped futilely for air, pushing against the sharply taloned food held him. Pug knew he was blessedly lucky his spear had struck true, the wound distracting Owen and preventing the owl from finishing him, but he didn¡¯t have long before the owl returned to task.


    The fairy¡¯s hands traced the outline of a gnarled and knobbly toe to a smooth talon, figuring out just how Owen had him pinned. Mice in his position were generally rapidly eviscerated, however he was no mouse. Pug freed his dagger and snaked his arm free of its position by his side, though it was awkward and painful to extricate it. The owl¡¯s foot was scaly and tough, but Pug thought of one particular weakness. Turning the knife and stabbing forward, he slid the blade along the talon to its root, where it met the skin, and wedged the blade as deeply into the crevice as he could. Then, he twisted it and pushed it against the talon, using it for leverage. Doing so he was able to tear the blade through the flesh and scaled skin at the base of the talon, what would be the cuticle on another being. This resulted in what was, essentially, the worst hangnail Pug had ever seen, earning a pained squawk from the owl.


    Owen shifted and turned, his focus on Tourmaline as the gnome harried him from a safe distance. As the bird¡¯s torso twisted something cracked across Pug¡¯s face, eliciting a cry of pain from the fairy that achieved a sick harmony with the shriek of pain from the owl. Hearing the owl''s pain Pug realized what the foreign object must be, and dropped his dagger to grab at it, finding the blood-slick shaft of his spear, pushing it deeper into the owl¡¯s chest. Owen didn¡¯t care for this sudden assault, rearing back to retreat from the spear and, in doing so, alleviated some of the pressure on Pug¡¯s chest. The Owl Prince was apparently fed up with the little fairy continuing to be a nuisance, as Pug felt his mass bear down on him, only held at bay by the sharp head of the spear which buried itself deeper into his flesh as he pushed against it.


    ¡°¡®Ware!¡± Tourmaline called out, prompting Pug to screw his eyes shut tightly.


    Her intervention couldn¡¯t have come at a better time, as the butt of the spear slipped from its holdfast in the wood beneath him, and his arms buckled and gave way under the weight of the owl. Something hissed as it whistled through the air towards him before it terminated its arc somewhere above him, an earsplitting crack resounding through the night with deafening intensity. Simultaneously a ferociously bright sun flared to life on the other side of his eyelids, painfully bright even behind closed eyes, and a wash of heat warmed his face. However bad it was for him, however, it must have been worse for Owen who was looking right at the source of the light with his wide, nocturnal eyes. The keening the owl made was felt rather than heard, since Pug¡¯s own ears were ringing in the aftermath of the detonation, but the agony was evident. Pug felt the beast rear back, pulling himself free of Pug¡¯s spear as the fairy maintained his grip, the owl falling to the ground with a thud.


    Pug opened his eyes and was surprised to find, even though dim, he could somewhat see in the aftermath of the explosion. Popping up to his feet he jumped onto the prone Owen¡¯s chest and sprinted along the length of his body. Upon reaching the neck he twirled his spear about and plunged it into Owen¡¯s mouth, silencing the keening with a squawk. Owen attempted to stand and shake him off, but Lina arrived just as planned, stomping on one of the owl¡¯s legs. Her strength and mass meant the bones crunched immediately, and Owen squawked an exclamation of pain past the spear in his mouth but stopped trying to shake him.


    ¡°Concede.¡± Pug said flatly.


    The fairy was resolved to finish the fight one way or another, and it had to end before the specks of light, which he was seeing by, faded. If it came down to it, Pug would kill the Prince before darkness took hold again. Owen met his eyes, full of spite and anger, only to deflate upon seeing the resolve there. A moment¡¯s more of hesitation, and the owl spoke.


    ¡°I concede.¡± He hooted softly.


    Pug turned his gaze to the Owl King, the only one of the avian court who seemed unaffected by the flash bomb. The King eyed him silently, and Pug couldn¡¯t read what he was thinking. After what felt like an eternity he straightened, making his already tremendous bulk even more evident.


    ¡°Unfortunately, it seems to me you lost the duel, and died in the attempt.¡± The Owl King said simply. ¡°A tragedy to be sure.¡±The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Pug croaked, throat tightening.


    ¡°Thanks to my foolish son, a war with the martens is inevitable. Our only chance, given how weak we are now, is to strike first.¡± The Owl King explained, not unkindly. ¡°I can¡¯t take the chance you¡¯ll warn them.¡±


    ¡°We won¡¯t be in a position to tell anyone anything once we get to the Hearth.¡± Pug pleaded.


    ¡°It matters not, the risk is too great to leave a loose end like you running around. You¡¯d likely come to the martens¡¯ aid if they asked, and after your performance today I can safely say I don¡¯t want them to have access to an asset like yourself, or your alchemist friend there.¡±


    ¡°Hey, hey! I¡¯ll really kill him!¡± Pug warned as the Owl King hopped from his perch onto the floor of the arena, regarding his son Owen who looked at him piteously.


    ¡°I have other sons, this one was a bit of a dolt anyways. Do you have any last words?¡± The King asked. ¡°I want to assure you, no harm will come to either of your peoples. I bear you no ill will, it''s just bad luck you¡¯re in this situation.


    ¡°Bad luck?¡± Pug laughed bitterly. ¡°It''s been nothing but bad luck since I left my village.¡±


    Pug looked over his shoulder at Lina, her form becoming nebulous and vague in the growing darkness as the lights floating around them winked out. He could see she was holding a small glass orb in her hand, their last resort in the event the flash bomb didn¡¯t pan out. She assured Pug the contents of the orb, when mixed with the smaller glass vial inside it, would create a toxic mist. It was viciously lethal, which was why the gnome was backing up to the edge of the tree trunk. She met his eyes and nodded, her lips thinning into a determined line.


    They grow up so fast. Pug thought with a mirthless chuckle. She¡¯d fully fallen into the adventuring role now. The fairy braced himself, preparing to sprint to the edge of the arena and leap off into the void of night below. He¡¯d be able to slow their fall enough for it to not be lethal, though they¡¯d be in a bit of a predicament.


    "That''s very kind of you, your Majesty. But no, I don¡¯t think we have any words for you.¡± Pug spat, words barbed and bitter.


    The Owl King looked at him with grave disappointment, as though let down Pug had no parting shot to give him. He made a gesture with his wing and the owls encircling the arena tensed, readying themselves for their assault. Tourmaline lifted her glass flask overhead threateningly. In the midst of the chaos, as Pug prepared to leap from the tree and catch Tourmaline, he paused as he saw long, sinuous forms drop from the boughs above, their squirming shapes difficult to distinguish from the shadows.


    Each owl was beset by three or four of these shadows, shadows twisted and climbed along the large birds until they were able to get at their throats. Other owls succeeded in keeping their assailants from their most vulnerable areas, letting out frightened chirps as the shades tore at them with vicious snarls. Dark stains, which Pug presumed was blood, spread across their feathered coats. In moments the owls, who had been poised to strike down Pug and Tourmaline, were detained or dead. Lina was so shocked the poisonous flask nearly fell through her numb fingers, forcing the gnome to scramble to catch it. Pug watched nervously, his attention torn between the deadly weapon his friend was fumbling with, and the two shadows broke off from the rest to approach them.


    ¡°Now that,¡± the shadow on the left began, his voice familiar. ¡°That would have been the right kind of situation to use the emergency signal.¡±


    The tenebrous forms resolved themselves into Slink, as well as an older, grayed and scarred marten. Pug and Lina both sagged in relief, the former withdrawing his speartip from its position a finger¡¯s breadth from Owen¡¯s eye, and the latter throwing herself into a panic as her fingers, numbed with relief, nearly dropped the flask onto the floor. She rapidly disarmed the flask, pouring the clear fluid out of the orb and pulling the yellow vial free.


    Pug gratefully stepped away from the defeated Owen, handing the Owl Prince off to a marten enforcer before moving to greet his friend, Tourmaline just behind him. Pug eyed the older marten curiously, uncertainty pressing to the fore as he noticed the deference Slink gave to his elder. Pug stopped himself short of the pair, tentatively introducing himself and Tourmaline. Completely worn out by the day¡¯s events, he wasn¡¯t at all affected as Slink introduced them to the Don of his family. Luckily the Don seemed to have his hands full managing the sudden coup he had subjected the owls to, and hardly noticed or cared for their rudeness.


    ¡°Slink! I thought you¡¯d left?¡± Lina cried, admonishment coloring her voice.


    ¡°Well, I had to share some information I was giving regarding just how many owls were at Court. Plus, we had to retaliate for the attack against our pup.¡±


    ¡°You had an informant?¡± Pug asked, curious. ¡°The mayor?¡±


    ¡°Yes and no. He was simply passing along a message from his patron.¡± Slink said, nodding to an owl, the only one with no guards shepherding her, who sat deep in discussion with the Don. Pug realized belatedly the owl was none other than Danica.


    ¡°What does Danica get out of all this?¡± Tourmaline asked, looking at the owl.


    ¡°Well, somebody has to lead the owls after all of this.¡± Slink gave his best approximation of a shrug. ¡°We get a friendly owl in charge, and she gets to prevent any more of her family dying for the King¡¯s ambition. We weren''t the only enemies he made with his attempts at conquest.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s about damn time there was an Owl Queen.¡± Tourmaline muttered, earning a grin from Pug as he nudged her with his elbow to quiet her antics.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you guys have overcome your political strife and all, war averted and everything, but she was going to take us to Jet.¡± Pug said, exhaustion starting to seep into his words. ¡°What are we going to do now?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m still more than happy to assist you with .¡± Danica cut in, her voice smooth and pleasant, completely unruffled by her violent overthrow of the previous regime. ¡°After all, I do have you to thank for my sudden promotion?¡±


    ¡°You do?¡± Pug wondered.


    ¡°Indeed, you two made the perfect distraction to catch the Court off-guard. We took far fewer casualties, on both sides, than we expected.¡± Danica eyed her fellow owls where they sulked under the watch of the martens.


    Relief hit Pug all at once, dropping him to his knees as the tension left him. He couldn¡¯t help but laugh, a soothed sort of chuckle rose out of him for no better reason than the simple reality he was no longer under the threat of death. The duel had been a far closer thing than he would have liked, and he¡¯d nearly despaired when the Owl King refused to honor their victory. He hardly looked up as the Don approached, eyeing Pug warily.


    ¡°Is the kid alright?¡± The Don asked gruffly.


    ¡°Yeah boss, he¡¯s just¡­ been through a lot over the past couple days.¡± Slink reassured, using his tail to pat Pug on the back.


    ¡°Good, I¡¯m not going to put anyone in danger by inducting a liability into the family.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re inducting us into the family?¡± Pug cried, the incredulity of the idea causing another cascade of giggles. ¡°We¡¯re not even martens!¡±


    ¡°I hadn¡¯t noticed .¡± The Don said dryly, his tone and posture effectively conveying to the fairy it was time to settle down and pay attention.


    ¡°What you are, are two people who saved my child and aided one of my most trusted lieutenants. Truly, this is the least I can do for you. Now, hold out your right hand, both of you.¡±


    Pug and Lina did as he bid, holding their hands out in front of them. Quick as lightning the Don struck, biting each of them on the wrist and though he only nicked them, it burned wickedly. Pug pulled his hand back with a hiss, checking the severity of the wound. To his surprise he saw no wound at all but instead a tattoo of a marten wrapped around his wrist like a bracelet. One look at Lina confirmed she had the same, her eyes wide with wonder as she inspected it.


    ¡°This mark identifies you as a member of my clan. Please, do everything you can to be worthy of it.¡± His reward issues, the Don sighed, looking at the owl prisoners. ¡°As much as I¡¯d like to stay and chat, I have other business to take care of. We¡¯ll manage them long enough for Danica to take you where you need to be.¡±


    The Don turned and walked away, snapping orders at the guards and their owl prisoners. The martens began to drag the birds away, working in teams to herd them. Pug wasn¡¯t sure what would happen to the unfortunate birds, but he imagined it wouldn¡¯t be too terrible. Danica would want subjects, after all. Pug glared at the Owl King as he was pulled away, the unknowable intelligence behind the large owl¡¯s eyes glittering with malice.


    Slink said his goodbyes, promising to stop by once everything was settled and they returned with Jet to explain just what being a part of the family meant for them. Danica waited for them patiently, flaring her wings dramatically as the pair approached. With little fanfare she grabbed the pair in her talons, leaving them dangling as she took off into the night. Despite the discomfort of being caged in the grip of a ferocious hunter high in the air above the forest floor, Pug felt himself begin to drift off. Across from him Tourmaline had already fallen asleep, exhausted by the recovery of her wounds and the stress of the day. Pug allowed himself a hopeful little smile as his eyelids closed, finding himself lacking the will to open them.

 Chapter 14

    Thalia snuck out of Eleanore¡¯s family manor in the early hours of the morning, conveniently forgetting to notify her friend she was leaving. She knew when Eleanore woke up and found her missing she¡¯d be absolutely livid, but their argument the night before remained unresolved and Thalia didn¡¯t have the heart to try to avoid her friend in her own manor. Thalia had told Ellie she¡¯d needed to stop at her house and get clothes, her spare uniform, and some toiletries. Eleanore had been less than thrilled by the notion of her returning home, a dissatisfaction had turned into a slow burning irritation had exploded when Eleanore had realized Thalia would only need her uniform if she intended to go back to work.


    ¡°Someone broke into your home, Thalia. Tearing up your place was a threat, and there¡¯s only one thing in your life worth threatening you over.¡± Eleanore did her best to convey her seriousness, but she squeaked when she got irate and it was very hard for Thalia to take her seriously.


    ¡°You think they¡¯re threatening me over the investigation? I¡¯m barely even involved, Inquirer Reid¡¯s made sure of .¡± Thalia replied, bitterness tinging her words. ¡°I don¡¯t know anything worth threatening me over.¡±


    ¡°Then why was your place busted up? Why wasn¡¯t Inquirer Reid targeted?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, I really don¡¯t. Whoever it is though, I doubt they¡¯re still lurking around.¡± Thalia said wryly.


    She¡¯d let the matter drop and retired to Eleanore¡¯s guest bedroom, claiming she was exhausted by the events of the day. And she had been exhausted, but she¡¯d intended to get an early night¡¯s rest so she could slip out of the house in the wee hours of the morning. Now here she was, walking briskly through the pre-dawn light. The streets were mostly empty, the occasional pedestrian hurrying past with their shoulders drawn high to ward off the light breeze carried with it an unseasonal chill. Most businesses she passed already had someone inside, preparing for the coming day.


    Thalia¡¯s subconscious routed her to the kebab stall instinctively, realizing with disappointment he probably wasn¡¯t awake yet. She frowned and stalked down a side street, hunching her own shoulders as the tips of her ears grew cold. She kept a rapid pace and it wasn¡¯t long until she was walking down her street, past the homes of her neighbors, glad none of them were out and about this early. The arrival of the Wardens, whom she¡¯d called for after discovering her house in a complete state of disarray, had not been a secret, and many of her neighbors had spent the night alternating between rubbernecking around the Wardens and consoling Thalia in between bouts of questioning. Various wardens had arrived, interrogated her, and called their superiors. The process repeated itself all the way up to Inquirer Reid himself who took one look at her weary expression, and Eleanore¡¯s frothing-at-the-mouth rage, and told her to go get some sleep.


    She¡¯d like to avoid another scene like the night before, with her neighbors fussing and cooing over her. So she skulked down familiar streets that were made slightly sinister by the memories of the night before. Latent tension and fear seemed to weigh on her shoulders as she began to dread what she might find waiting for her in her home. She jogged the last little bit of the way, fumbling numbly in her pocket for the key to her home. Thalia bit her lip and steadied her breathing, suddenly realizing she was terrified of opening her own front door.


    She managed to get her key in the lock on her second try, and before her fear could stop her she pushed the door open and stumbled into her home. A harsh exhalation, disbelief and shock, hissed passed her lips as she regarded her foyer. She¡¯d expected to see a mess, the ruin of her home ruthlessly combed over by the Wardens investigating the scene. What she hadn¡¯t expected were the flower petals, oblong little ovals of soft white, strewn across the floor and the ruined remains of her furniture. A cursory glance confirmed they were from the same white chrysanthemums, but hardly registered. Someone had been in her house, again, since she¡¯d been gone.


    Her fear was pushed aside to make room for rage, her nails biting into the flesh of her palms as her fists clenched. Her lip biting grew in ferocity, until it could almost be called a gnashing, even as she struggled to still her heart. She moved into her home with soft steps, closing the door lightly behind her as she caressed the pommel of her baton. It reassured her, its weight and presence, as she crept through the building. In a less tense situation she might have scoffed at the idea of having to creep around her own home like a burglar, but the tension balled up in her throat silencing any mirth.


    Slipping down the hall like a shadow she checked each room as she passed, a grim mirror of the day before when she¡¯d returned to find her home in tatters. Curiously, other than the petals strewn all about, there was little out of place in her home. It was hard to be certain given the chaos, but everything seemed to be in the same spot as it had been when the Warden¡¯s left the day before. The curtains were drawn but the morning light managed to sneak in, turning the ruined vestiges of her furniture into ominously looming shadows. The sunbeams shone a spotlight on dust motes dancing in the face of her surreptitious movements, and in her wake. She reached the end of the hall, the only room left unchecked in the house, her own bedroom. She set her jaw and reached for the door, struck by the eerie feeling she was being watched.


    Spurred on by thoughts of unseen observers she pushed the door open bodily, twisting to slam it closed behind her. Her momentary glance down the hall failed to reveal any lurking intruders, and the feeling of being watched did not fade even as the door shut. She scanned the bedroom with her gaze, confirming there was no one in the room either. Haunted by feeling she could not justify, by the itch between her shoulders that told her someone had their eyes on her, she took long strides across the room to her dresser. She stopped on the way to grab her travel bag from a dusty corner of her closet. She packed as quickly as she could, a feeling of panic creeping in on her, the desire to flee growing right alongside it. She crammed garments into her bag almost randomly, haphazardly taking whatever was in her reach.


    Before long she¡¯d crammed her travel bag full to bursting with clothes and found herself struggling to tie it closed. She grasped the fabric around the mouth of the bag tightly in one first, straining to cinch it closed with the leather cord intended for purpose. After a few half-muttered curses and angry jabs meant to compress the clothes that little bit more she needed, she tied the opening shut. The bag bulged and the seams strained under the load, but she still allowed herself a feeling of momentary triumph. She reveled in it for only a moment, unwilling to linger here long. It was at that moment she realized, with growing horror, something she had missed in her hurry to get into her bedroom.


    Her bedroom, unlike every other corner of the house, was completely remade. Every scar, every bit of debris, all of it vanished like the last vestiges of a nightmare. Her nightstand and dresser, both shattered and broken when she¡¯d seen them last, were whole again. Closer inspection failed to even find any scars, their wooden frames smooth and unblemished. Her bed was made, neatly put together with the pillow and blanket whole and unblemished. In fact, there wasn¡¯t a single rogue feather anywhere in sight despite the sea of down feathers had been strewn about. Her room looked like it had never been touched.


    , in particular, sickened her. It felt like someone was playing with her life, unmaking and remaking her most private and secure place at their own whim. Her stomach roiled with stress, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut and take a deep breath. Who knew a return to normalcy could be so shocking in the right context? Whatever the case, she wasn¡¯t going to stay in this unwanted and unlooked-for bastion of order in the chaos was her home. To her eyes it was clearly the mouth of the flytrap, intending to close on her the instant she let it. Rather than think over the implications of it here and now, she turned her back on it and, upon double checking she was ready, prepared to leave.


    If the sight of her bedroom remade had been a slight breeze to ruffle the hair of her composure and courage, the sights she saw jogging back to the door were a hurricane. The slightly horrified worry she felt grew into abject terror as she saw each room she passed was put back together like the break-in had never happened, like the wardens hadn¡¯t ransacked her home for clues. Furniture stood tall and unblemished, the floors swept clean. Her bathroom mirror was whole and clear, the water-stained floorboards now shining with a lacquered finish in the first rays of the sun. Her kitchen was no longer full of shards of broken crockery and disarrayed cutlery. The house had minutes before held the ruined remains of her personal life now looked pristine, hardly lived in. Her panic, redoubled by each miraculously clean and intact room she passed, drove her to sprint down the hall, her pack of clothes slapping against her back. Thalia hardly stopped as she hit the front door, throwing it open and leaping from her porch to land in a skidding stop on the street outside.


    Almost as soon as she had cleared her threshold the feeling of being watched had dissipated, leaving her strangely calm as the tattered remnants of her mind-numbing panic drained away like rain down the gutter. Panting with exertion, she looked back at where the front door had rebounded shut with the force of her exit, half expecting something or someone to pursue her. With a shudder she readjusted the bag on her shoulder and walked away. Her pace noticeable quickening after the distinct sound of her door locking pierced through the still morning air. She was at the end of the block when her stomach growled, startling her out of her paranoia. With a small laugh she decided she¡¯d get a kebab on the way home.


    ***


    ¡°You went back to your house? Without telling me?¡± Eleanore all but yelled, dropping her fork and knife onto her plate with a clatter. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Thalia shushed her as she made soothing motions with her hands, smiling apologetically to the family at the table next to them. The Warden idly fingered the neckline of her shirt, frowning inwardly. She¡¯d hoped her friend wouldn¡¯t think too hard about Thalia¡¯s fashion choices tonight, preferring to enjoy each other¡¯s company. After all, Thalia had little in the way of clothes when she¡¯d first come to Eleanore, but she¡¯d salvaged what she could earlier that day. This outfit was one of the few she¡¯d managed to reclaim, the dress shirt and trouser she had worn to her graduation into the Wardens. Of course her eagle-eyed friend had noticed, though the ruse had lasted until the appetizers were cleared.


    ¡°Quiet down would you? This is a pretty nice place you got us into here, and I¡¯d at least like to try my dinner before they kick us out.¡± She waved her hand in a shushing motion at Eleanore, earning herself a stinging slap on the wrist and a wicked glare from the fierce little inventor.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Thalia hissed sullenly, massaging the back of her hand. ¡°I know you didn¡¯t want me to go but I needed to pick up some clothes at least. Besides, you don¡¯t handle spooky stuff well, you would have hated it.¡±


    ¡°I hate it more you did it all alone, and hid it from me!¡± Eleanore replied, slumping into her chair as she sulked. She looked at Thalia and scowled. ¡°Oh, get stupid grin off your face.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re so cute when you worry about me though.¡± Thalia teased, lapsing into comfortable silence as the waiter came with their food.


    All joking aside, Eleanore was not prone to baring her thoughts and feelings in public, in front of strangers. She was easily embarrassed, and Thalia was loath to even accidentally shame her friend. It didn¡¯t matter to Eleanore if she was the only one who felt embarrassed, or even if the embarrassment was in front of a waiter who would forget them moments after they walked out the door, she hated it all the same. So Thalia made sure to only poke fun at her friend when it was the two of them. It was blessedly easy for Thalia to change tack, the arrival of her food consuming her focus. She had ordered a simple beef stew, and relished every savory spoonful of it. It was inconceivably difficult to ruin a beef stew, and the dish was far safer than the fancy, exotic food the restaurant intended to serve to their high status patrons.


    It wasn¡¯t often she ate in establishments like this. Food stalls were one thing, but establishments where you sat down and ate were a relatively new import, brought in by immigrants traveling from across the seas. The closest thing Midburg had to restaurants before their arrival were taverns and pubs, where you could get something to snack on while you drank. The fare there was simple, pleasant in its own right, but lacking the complexity, skill, and care these restaurants displayed.


    These establishments remained a novelty, primarily enjoyed by the well-to-do but Thalia suspected it wouldn¡¯t be long before similar places opened up for commoners. Likely with simpler dishes than what the upper classes ate, for it seemed like the dishes of the wealthy were a status symbol in their own right. Many were complex and foreign, requiring esoteric practices to enjoy them properly. It seemed as though it was a badge of honor to be capable of eating the most disgusting, complex, or challenging dishes. And the more obscure and mysterious the dish, the more expensive they got.


    Thalia looked at Eleanore''s dish, a far more complex thing than her own stew. It had a name in a foreign tongue Thalia didn¡¯t dare try to pronounce, and had a similarly alien method of consumption. Little shelled creatures, boiled until the shells turned dark, were cracked open. The insides of the shell were scooped out with a specialized spoon that had sharp, serrated edges. They were then laid onto a thin slab of meat, cut from an opalescent steak that reminded Thalia of abalone shells. It was then rolled up, skewered, and dipped in a brown sauce that singed Thalia¡¯s nostrils when she smelled it. Lastly it was coated in shredded greens before being eaten, the entire roll consumed in one bite. Thalia couldn¡¯t help but wonder how it tasted, and imagined it was quite savory.


    ¡°Hey Ellie, what is that? What does it taste like?¡± Thalia asked excitedly. She met Eleanore¡¯s disapproving gaze and realized her friend had said something she had completely missed. ¡°Sorry, were you saying something?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, this behavior is hardly surprising to me anymore. It¡¯s called sarendi and it tastes a lot like lamb chops, actually. The sauce is a butter and spice sauce, and the veggies include green onions.¡± Eleanore explained as she made a roll, skewering and dunking it in the sauce. When it was done she held it out to Thalia, who chewed it thoughtfully before deciding her friend was right.


    ¡°As for what I was saying before,¡± Eleanore continued, giving Thalia a pointed look Thalia responded to by doing her level best to appear attentive. ¡°I was asking if you had told Inquirer Reid about your experience at your home?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I stopped by the office after I got my kebabs.¡± Thalia growled out her reply, scowling reflexively. ¡°He chewed me out for going back to my house unaccompanied.¡±


    Thalia bit back a snide remark as a smug ¡°I-told-you-so¡± expression spread across Eleanore¡¯s face. She frowned at her friend in mock anger before continuing.


    ¡°He sent a few of the Warden¡¯s over who¡¯d investigated the house day. They confirmed what I saw, it was like nothing had happened. The old timers were pale as corpses, couldn¡¯t stop muttering prayers and making curse wards every time they saw me for the rest of the day. After that drama, Reid decided I needed a few more days off. Probably at least partly because the old timers could hardly stand to be in the same room as me.¡±


    ¡°Elderly superstitions aside, Inquirer Reid isn''t wrong. Someone came and trashed your house, and either the same person or someone else entirely came and put it back together like it was all a dream. You could act a little more distressed.¡± Eleanore said primly between bites of her meal. ¡°I¡¯m genuinely surprised he didn¡¯t take you off of the case.¡±


    ¡°Oh, he tried. I was basically begging him to let me stay on. I think he only caved because he didn¡¯t want to see me cry.¡± Thalia admitted wryly. ¡°In any case, I doubt I¡¯ll be doing anything but desk work from here on out.¡±


    Eleanore looked like she wanted to say something, but instead let out a long, exasperated sigh before returning to her meal. The conversation drifted to lighter topics from there, due in no small part to Thalia¡¯s subtle directions. She asked about Elenaore¡¯s projects and plans, something Eleanore couldn¡¯t help but gush about. She went into great detail, at length, which spared Thalia from having to talk anymore about her home or her work. The mere mention earlier had reignited the eerie feeling of eyes on her back, and she worried she wouldn¡¯t sleep soundly that night.


    Besides, I really do enjoy listening to Ellie ramble about her passion projects. It¡¯s like she has endless enthusiasm.


    Time passed quickly as Eleanore planned the next stage in her automaton development out loud, Thalia doing little more than making vague noises of assent or curiosity to keep her friend going. Eleanore was so invested Thalia had to flag down their waiter to get their check herself, her friend only breaking her rambling to protest as Thalia paid for her portion of the meal. They stepped outside into the cool evening air, the breeze biting at Thalia¡¯s skin a bit more than she expected. Eleanore shivered beside her, and only then did Thalia really take in her friend¡¯s outfit. Thalia was not overly acquainted with women¡¯s fashion, through a mix of her job requiring her to wear trousers and her own disinterest. She hardly deviated from her uniform on her days off, and even now wore pants offered her comfort and freedom of movement.


    Eleanore, on the other hand, was a lady and her dress was likely to be on the cutting edge of what was fashionable. In many instances Eleanore herself made certain styles fashionable, even though her friend seemed to lack any understanding of just how much social pull she had. It was a simple affair, a red sheath dress clung to her skin almost desperately. It accentuated her figure, coming down from her right shoulder to wrap around her breasts and her waist. There it blossomed out a little, a pattern of faux layers working elements of black fabric into the dress did nothing to hide her wide hips, indeed almost seeming to enhance and embolden them, the ruffles ending in an asymmetrical hem exposed a little of her left thigh.


    Thalia shook her head in wonder her Eleanore, little Ellie, could wear something so bold. she could wear it so confidently. Thalia still remembered the meek girl who had hid behind the school, working on little gadgets and gizmos far from the eyes of her peers or her teachers. It made her glad to see her friend¡¯s confidence growing, even if the dress left her arms bare and exposed to the cold. Eleanore rubbed at her upper arms with her hands for a moment before giving up and cupping them in front of her face, breathing into them to warm her chilled fingers.


    Thalia removed her overcoat, only recently reclaimed from the restaurant¡¯s coat rack, with a small flourish. She set onto Eleanore¡¯s shoulder¡¯s gently, pulling it tight around her front to shield her from the chill. Eleanore looked up in surprise, gratitude flashing in her eyes as she took hold of the fabric, holding it close.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± Eleanore mumbled, tucking her face under the collar of the coat. Thalia thought she was trying to heat the inside of the jacket with her breath.


    ¡°Of course, my lady. May I walk you home?¡± Thalia¡¯s voice dripped with overacted chivalry, which Eleanore ignored gracefully.


    ¡°You may.¡± Eleanore secured the collar of the coat with one hand, extending the other from the folds of the coat.


    She let it dangle limp at the wrist, intending to be led by the hand. Instead she found herself letting out a yelp of surprise as Thalia took her hand and kissed her fingertips teasingly. Thalia glanced up at her friend to see her face buried even further into the jacket, only glittering eyes visible. Eyes rolled at her in exasperation, causing Thalia to giggle.


    ¡°You look good in that dress, Ellie. I¡¯m glad you wore it, even if it is a little cold out.¡± Thalia said. Scooting to the side as they maneuvered past another group walking the other way down the street.


    ¡°Ah, finally you say something! I was worried you didn¡¯t even see it.¡± Eleanore said with a playful frown. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to compliment the lady when you first see her, not at the end of the date. Don¡¯t think acting the gentleman now is going to get me to forgive you either. No matter how much you flatter me you¡¯re still not off the hook for leaving me behind today.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not trying to flatter my way out of trouble or anything. I¡¯m just thinking, you should keep that dress tabbed for when you find a suitor you like out of all the ones your mom¡¯s arranging for you.¡± Thalia felt she¡¯d made a mistake as soon as she finished her sentence.


    ¡°Oh yeah, you¡¯re definitely going to be helping me in the lab tomorrow. No vacation for you, miss.¡± Eleanore said, giggling as Thalia let out a groan.


    As the sky darkened and the streets emptied, their banter became the only noise to be heard. Thalia relaxed, for tonight she wouldn¡¯t be alone. She¡¯d be with a friend, and far from her house, the source of her anxieties. Yet for some reason, she couldn¡¯t seem to shake the feeling she was being watched.

 Chapter 15

    Eleanore bit back a chuckle as she heard Thalia break out into a string of curses for the tenth time in as many minutes. Her low, muttered swearing died down slowly, replaced by the clattering of tools. Eleanore knew better than to check on her friend, as the last time she had tried to draw out whatever was bothering her friend, the taciturn warden had shut her out completely and simply scowled down at the worktable in front of her. Eleanore instead chose to focus on her own task, focusing on the finely crafted replica of a human hand rested on her own workspace. This iteration was made out of rather plain steel and completely undecorated, a test model she didn¡¯t have to worry about damaging. Which was good, as the process of animating the hand and testing its limits had so far involved a lot of trial, error, and damage.


    She was treading new ground with this project, starting from scratch in a lot of ways. Most of her other automatons either had simple clamps to grip with, or had the tools of their trade built into them, and so far there had been no need for dexterous manipulators. It had been the simplest option at the time and after foraying into making a functioning hand out of steel and magic, Eleanore was confident a pincer remained the easiest solution. Getting the fingers to articulate, to give them enough strength to be useful but not so much they destroyed themselves, it was all a massive headache. Setting limits on how far the fingers could bend back, or curl closed, was a high priority. Her first simulacrum had self-destructed when instructed to close into a fist, as she had failed to account for the fact it had no way to detect when it was fully closed and had constricted itself into scrap metal.


    One rather obvious rune later and the hand was able to tell when it was touching something, but would stop just as it touched it. Her test objects, a few bits of crockery and half a dozen eggs, kept slipping through its fingers and shattering on the workshop floor. Calibrating it to grip a little tighter meant it was crushing those same eggs in a spray off yolky gore. So on and so forth, until Eleanore was pulling her hair out at the roots. She couldn¡¯t even look at her previous designs, the lot of them being designed for industrial work, not delicacy. The prospect of dedicating hours or days of time to fine tuning the minute details of her enchantments and runes until it operated like she wanted was unappealing, to say the least. She¡¯d leave the work to an apprentice, if she trusted anyone well enough to have them take the role.


    Despite her youth, her eccentric nature, Eleanore believed she understood at least a bit of how the world worked. Her automatons, and the cutting edge magic and metallurgy went into them, were incredibly valuable. The method of their construction was a constant target of corporate espionage, and more than half of her development and manufacturing time went into churning out failsafes that would trigger when the casings were breached, and false-positives to obfuscate any information might survive. It killed her to do that to her own creations, but it was better than her work falling into more nefarious hands than her own.


    It was for those, admittedly somewhat paranoid, reasons she refused to take apprentices. She refused, even, to allow her parents into her workshop. Much to their frustration, the only person she allowed into the workshop was Thalia. An exception to her rule wasn¡¯t based on anything logical, though she wouldn¡¯t admit to anyone but herself. She doubted Thalia understood her work well enough to share it with anyone, even if she did so unintentionally. No, Thalia just had a way of making her feel at ease, a feeling would usually serve to help her be more productive.


    Usually being the operative word, her focus once again being disrupted as Thalia erupted into another bout of swearing. Eleanore finally turned around and looked at Thalia, her back to her as she bent over her workspace. Even from her awkward angle Eleanore could see Thalia sucking on her index finger, nursing a painful pinch she¡¯d received from the mechanism she was working with. Thalia was currently in charge of putting together the parts for another hand, just in case the one she was testing now had an unfortunate, suicidal, accident. Eleanore smiled lightly at Thalia¡¯s frustrated scowl, which she could only see in profile, and decided she looked cute when she was upset.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to be any help like this.¡± Eleanore declared, walking over to Thalia and firmly but gently pulling the half-constructed metal hand from her grasp. ¡°Do you want to tell me what¡¯s going on, or do you want me to guess?¡±


    ¡°Nothing¡¯s wrong, I¡¯m just tired. Didn¡¯t sleep well last night.¡± Thalia murmured, tucking her hands under her arms defensively.


    You still haven¡¯t realized you cross your arms when you lie. You¡¯re so dishonest. Eleanore thought to herself with a barely suppressed giggle.


    Part of her was concerned, uncertain if it was okay for a Warden to have a tell like . She was sure Inquirer Reid, a man who was far more perceptive than most would assume, already knew about the habit. The few times she¡¯d met the man she¡¯d felt he was rather vocal about how things could change and improve. If he¡¯d not said anything to Thalia, then she wouldn¡¯t. Besides, she liked having an idea of when her friend was hiding something from her.


    ¡°Looks like I¡¯m guessing then.¡± Eleanore chimed, her voice carrying a slightly singsong quality with it. ¡°Hm, I think¡­ you¡¯re upset Inquirer Reid made you take more time off?¡±


    Thalia¡¯s frown lines grew deeper and her shoulders hunched higher, a clear sign Eleanore had hit the mark. The Inquirer had been less thrilled with Thalia returning home, and the almost magical reversions to the state of her home left him nearly crushed under the weight of his paranoia. He¡¯d doubled the amount of time she¡¯d had to take off to recover, and Thalia had shared the fact she¡¯d heard rumors he was looking to replace her. It was blatantly obvious exactly what was bothering the Warden, which made it so much more amusing she tried to hide it.


    ¡°And you¡¯re probably thinking you¡¯d be more help out there investigating right now, rather than helping me put together these stupid little hands for my tests?¡±


    ¡°I never said that!¡± Thalia said defensively, guilt making her a bit too passionate.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I think they¡¯re stupid too.¡± Eleanore teased. ¡°Come on Thalia, I know you better than you think. Why are you trying to hide it from me?¡±


    ¡°Sorry Ellie, it¡¯s just, I know I¡¯m close to figuring something out with this whole Faerie Dust thing.¡± Thalia explained, frustrated.


    ¡°Of course you are sweetheart.¡± Eleanore said sarcastically, masking the pleasant little jolt she¡¯d felt as Thalia called her by her nickname. "That''s probably why someone tried to kill you.¡±


    ¡°First of all, no one tried to kill me.¡± Thalia protested. ¡°They broke into my house and tore up the place, which might count as a threat. But then they fixed it, so I¡¯m not even sure how to count that. Secondly, if I¡¯m close to figuring this out, then it¡¯s my job as a Warden to see it through.¡±


    ¡°I know it''s more than a job to you,¡± Eleanore sighed with exasperation. ¡°I just wish you¡¯d be a little more careful.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± Thalia said solemnly, slumped a little.


    ¡°Which is why I¡¯ll go with you today as we do a little off the books looking around.¡± Eleanore offered. She knew she was feeding a bad habit here, but Thalia was going to be moody all day if nothing changed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know about taking you with me¡­¡± Thalia hesitated, though her eyes were alight with excitement.


    ¡°I guess you¡¯ll just have to keep me safe.¡± Eleanore said, affecting a nasally, haughty tone elicited a small chuff of amusement from Thalia. ¡°Besides, maybe it will give you a greater appreciation of how much the rest of us worry about you while you¡¯re gallivanting about.¡±


    Thalia hesitated, her expression worried. She gnawed at her bottom lip and drummed her fingers on her desk as she considered the offer. Eleanore knew she had her, eventually. The urge to get back to work would win out eventually, but she figured she could tack on one final blow to speed the process up.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t take me with you I¡¯ll tell Inquirer Reid.¡± Eleanore smiled wickedly.


    ¡°Tell him what?¡± Thalia exclaimed. ¡°I haven¡¯t done anything yet.¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t done anything yet. It¡¯s almost guaranteed you¡¯ll try to slip away on your own at some point.¡°


    Eleanore saw the guilty expression on Thalia¡¯s face, but decided not to press the matter. Instead she stepped closer and patted her friend on the shoulder. With her other hand she gathered up the scrap and spare parts Thalia had been working with.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get cleaned up and packed away and then we can go investigate to your heart¡¯s content. I assume you have some leads?¡± Eleanore asked, hardly surprised as Thalia sprang up excitedly, her dejected slump already a distant memory as she began stashing tools in drawers and putting parts back in their bins.


    Eleanore, slightly in awe of how quickly Thalia¡¯s mood could change, turned back to the hand she was working with. It would take her a little time to undo her enchantments and to smudge out the temporary runes. It was inconvenient and time consuming to reapply them, but she kept very thorough notes so she wasn¡¯t too concerned about losing any progress. It was better to spend an hour every morning setting everything back up than to have it stolen. Thalia thought she was paranoid of course, Eleanore could see her shaking her head incredulously out of the corner of her eye. Thalia hadn¡¯t been there when she¡¯d returned from a shopping trip to find all of her trash cans emptied, the contents taken in a wildly disturbing violation of her privacy.


    ¡°Something sticks out to me about each of my encounters at home are the chrysanthemums. They were meant to be a message of some kind.¡± Thalia mused, completely oblivious to Eleanore¡¯s musings.


    ¡°I believe you¡¯re right on count. There has to be some reason for leaving such an obvious message.¡± Eleanore agreed.


    ¡°I suppose the first step would be to hit the library, and then the Archives. See if we can¡¯t rustle up some folktale or cultural connection. I¡¯ll be honest, I¡¯m not sure how to investigate a flower.¡± Thalia admitted sheepishly.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you the officer of the law here? I feel like you should have a process for this.¡± Eleanore teased. Thalia opened her mouth as though she was going to offer a snippy retort but Eleanlore cut her off. ¡°I would think, if one were to research a flower, one would start with a flower shop or perhaps a botanist.¡±


    Thalia drifted into silence and mulled over what Eleanore said, which suited her just fine. She finished cleaning the model hand and deposited it into the cabinet beside her workspace. Dusting off her hands, Eleanore looked up to see Thalia regarding her intensely. Suddenly nervous, she double-checked her desk.


    ¡°What? I didn¡¯t miss anything did I?¡± Eleanore asked, concerned.


    ¡°No, it''s not . I was just thinking, you¡¯re pretty brilliant.¡± Thalia smiled. ¡°You don¡¯t happen to know of any flower shops nearby do you?¡±


    ¡°Luckily for you, our butler¡¯s niece runs a plant nursery not too far away.¡± Eleanore grinned.


    ¡°Really, Gerald¡¯s niece? Let¡¯s go talk to her!¡± Thalia was already moving to the door, leaving Eleanore scrambling to grab her keys before she trotted after her.


    Paisley¡¯s shop was quite literally just down the street, perfectly positioned where two districts met to allow her to offer her wares to both the nobility and wealthy merchant class, as well as the working middle class of Midburg. Her nursery was an expansive, sprawling thing, its courtyards shielded from birds by a cage of wrought iron bars were delicately shaped and decorated. She¡¯d purchased it from Eleanore¡¯s father for a pittance after a fire had torn through the factory that had sat on the lot previously.


    In Eleanore¡¯s opinion there was something eminently pleasing about talking to a professional about the field they were passionate about. Even if the field was completely foreign to her like - for instance - botany, the fiery passion lit Paisley¡¯s eyes as she went over the history of the white chrysanthemum in Midburg was satisfying to see. Paisley greeted them warmly, a warm acquaintance if not a friend after many years of running into each other due to her uncle¡¯s position as Eleanore¡¯s family butler. Her nursery was fairly busy, busier than Eleanore expected, but she was happy to take time between assisting customers to help them, her endless stream of words interspersed with conversations directing customers to certain plants, or checking them out as they made their purchases.


    Between the distractions she informed them that, prior to trade being opened with the Western Isles, white chrysanthemums hadn¡¯t existed in their nation. Their people, therefore, had not developed any mythology or folklore around this particular flower, the trade with the Western Isles being a relatively recent development. The raiding from their fierce, seaborne neighbors had only abated around a hundred or so years ago after a particularly vicious plague gutted their economy and forced them to barter for their goods rather than take them by force.


    On the other hand, while white chrysanthemums had little cultural identity among their people, they had tremendous cultural impact in the Isles. There they were believed to be one of the Flower Paths, the three roads leading to the gate of the afterlife. Each road consisted entirely of one kind of blooming flower, and the Chrysanthemum path was the one tread by human souls on their way to the next life. Chrysanthemums were therefore used in many funeral arrangements and memorials, and considered to be flowers of death. Eleanore¡¯s mood quickly turned sour at the realization the flowers strewn about Thalia¡¯s home were literal death threats, but the Warden didn¡¯t seem to mind.


    Thanking Paisley for her time and her insight, they left the building. Neither of them bought anything, Eleanore because she wasn¡¯t sure she¡¯d be able to keep a plant alive and Thalia because the Warden was the type to hardly notice houseplants. Paisley didn¡¯t seem to mind though, the greenthumb eagerly returning to ¡®tending to her babies,¡¯ as she said. Eleanore turned from waving her last goodbyes and nearly ran into Thalia, who stood on the street with a pensive frown on her lips, her fingers playing with her hair idly as she thought.


    ¡°That was informative.¡± Eleanore said cheerily. ¡°Where to next? We could still check the library and the Archives if you wanted to, but¡­¡± She trailed off.


    ¡°But it makes more sense to go talk to our local Islander population, and talking to the Islanders means going to the docks.¡± Thalia finished for her, eyeing Eleanore with concern.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been to the docks before Thalia. Sure, they¡¯re loud and dirty but that''s not the end of the world.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re more dangerous than you might think.¡± Thalia warned. ¡°More so the slums and neighborhoods in the area, where we¡¯re going to find the people we actually need to talk to. It''s not the best place to bring a wealthy, beautiful young lady. Hell, it¡¯s not even a safe place for Wardens, honestly.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not really wealthy, honey.¡± Eleanore deflected, abashed.


    ¡°Ellie, I really think-¡± Thalia began before she cut her off.


    ¡°Oh don¡¯t you ¡®Ellie¡¯ me with those doe eyes!¡± Eleanore cried, striding forward and grabbing her friend by the wrist as she dragged her towards the docks. ¡°Don¡¯t make me go get Inquirer Reid and tell him what you¡¯re up to.¡±


    ¡°Alright, alright!¡± Thalia caved, laughing. ¡°You¡¯re coming with me. But, one last thing before we go.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± Eleanore put her hands on her hips, attempting to give Thalia a stern look brooked no argument. meant she was completely defenseless and entirely surprised when Thalia licked her thumb and brought it to Eleanore¡¯s face, dragging it across her cheek before Eleanore could react.


    ¡°You had a little bit of potting soil on your face somehow. Don¡¯t worry, I got it.¡± Thalia grinned impishly as Eleanore felt herself flush red.


    ¡°Oh, get on with it you little gremlin.¡± Eleanore scowled, swatting at Thalia¡¯s retreating form in a fit of pique. The Warden laughed uproariously as she scampered away, leaving Eleanore pawing at her cheek in consternation.


    ***


    Eleanore walked beside Thalia, trying her hardest to appear cool, calm, and collected. She¡¯d been full of confidence outside the plant nursery, however now they had entered the slums she found herself aching to be joined with Thalia at the hip, huddled next to her suddenly far more composed and confident friend. Thalia was used to wearing trousers and a shirt out in public as part of her career, but Eleanore hadn¡¯t been in public in a pair of pants before. She felt oddly exposed, like she could physically feel the eyes on her as they walked down the street.


    She hoped her mother¡¯s web of informants didn¡¯t reach as far as the slums, or she¡¯d find herself coming home to a tongue lashing. Eleanore¡¯s mother had always insisted when she was in public she wore the finest of dresses, of the most modern fashion, and a full accoutrement of accessories and makeup. Her mother fondly referred to it as ¡®a lady¡¯s battle rattle¡¯ and would be absolutely livid Eleanore had left home without it. thought in mind, Eleanore ducked her head and pulled her cap down around her ears, hoping no one recognized her. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Thalia, of course, was completely unbothered by Eleanore¡¯s plight. The Warden was reluctant to wear formal dress even to the most solemn ceremonies, and frankly looked like a fish out of water in a dress. Eleanore couldn¡¯t help but feel put out that her friend didn¡¯t feel as scandalized as she did, upset as she was with herself for feeling that way. She banished a flash of resentment with a sharp exhalation, turning her attention to surveying the immediate area.


    The area was far nicer than she expected, almost as though the locals worked to spite the ¡®slum¡¯ label the city had burdened them with. The buildings were aged and worn, bordering on decrepitude through sheer age more than anything else. These streets were among the oldest in Midburg, a city built upon the water and grown by trade routes coming in from the sea. Wealth and care maintained the centralized government buildings just a few blocks away, but the wealthy who had built their fortune on the docks moved to more pleasant biomes as the scent of the polluted wharf and the plants processes the fish brought in every evening pervaded the slums.


    The poor, the disaffected, and the criminal moved into abandoned homes and estates under the cover of the wealthy¡¯s exodus and the miasma of rotted fish meat. Almost none had legal right to live there, but the dense tangle of tightly wound alleys and streets among crowding buildings in addition to the poor recordkeeping of early deeds and titles meant any effort to clean out the slums was stillborn in the Warden¡¯s headquarters. Still, despite the unsavory elements calling it home there was relatively little in the way of litter or gutter grime and citizens shuffled down the street at a relaxed pace which indicated how safe they felt. All told, it was not at all like what she had been told by other well-to-do ladies and gentleman at the soirees her family hosted. She mentioned as much to Thalia, who nodded.


    ¡°Well first off, there¡¯s far more empty houses out this way than people, so it''s not as crowded as you¡¯d think. A generation or so a plague came through, carried by a ship from a city north along the coast.¡± Thalia explained, Eleanore listening raptly. ¡°The Isle has just managed to quell their plague, but the measures to prevent an outbreak were still in place. The king at the time was able to quarantine the district but the docks suffered a lot of losses, and the population still hasn¡¯t recovered to what it was.¡±


    ¡°You make it sound like it was a different sickness than the one ravaged the Isles.¡± Eleanore stated, question implicit.


    ¡°It was. An entirely different set of symptoms seemed to come from the tribes of the northern hinterlands.¡±


    Eleanore was shocked, the likelihood of two plagues hitting nearly simultaneously to each other seeming incredibly unlikely. Relegating it to a historical curiosity to be researched later, she continued the other half of the conversation.


    ¡°Given the situation, shouldn¡¯t this district be much worse off?


    ¡°Well,¡± Thalia hedged. ¡°The people here, they don¡¯t much like Wardens, or any government interference. There¡¯s still resentment for the quarantine, a lot of people feel like they were left to die.¡±


    ¡°And?¡± Eleanore asked, unable to see where this was going.


    ¡°And they endeavor to make it a place the government doesn¡¯t have to go. They maintain their own order here, almost like a smaller city inside our own.¡±


    ¡°So like all great anti-establishment groups they maintain their distance by cleaning the litter and painting their homes?¡± Eleanore asked skeptically.


    ¡°Anything too egregious and they risk the city council or the mayor taking notice. Obvious filth, poverty, illness, and crime would attract the Wardens. They keep it clean and neat here so they can go about their business without involving us.¡±


    ¡°You say business,¡± Elanore narrowed her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m assuming their industry is of an illicit nature?¡±


    ¡°Probably.¡± Thalia answered honestly. ¡°But with no evidence and no one reporting it the Warden¡¯s aren¡¯t getting involved. Speaking of how unwelcome Warden¡¯s are, let¡¯s stop dawdling and get to looking. ¡°


    ¡°What are we actually looking for?¡±


    ¡°Dust addicts and people of Western Isle descent, I suppose.¡±


    Eleanore wasn¡¯t all too sure she could tell the difference between a Dust addict and a normal, non-Dust addict, but she kept her doubts to herself. She¡¯d just point them out to Thalia until she was right, and then she¡¯d know what they were like for future reference. She and Thalia had little to show for their investigations so far, few people being willing to even speak with them. Those who did had little to say as they gave terse, one word answers before excusing themselves as politely as possible. Thalia had just managed to corner another Islander when Eleanore turned and saw the Dust addict.


    It was immediately evident, even to her untrained eye, the Dust had its claws deep in the poor creature. His pale skin and unkempt hair framed eyes were shot through with pitch black streaks, originating from his pupil and shooting out around the back of his eyes, in which colorful sparks twinkled merrily. Chapped and split lips oozed blood into a rictus grin as he stumbled unseeingly into walls and tripped over his own feet. Beyond the immediate symptoms, Eleanore somehow got the sense the man was somewhat ethereal, like he might just vanish into the next shadow or move twenty paces down the street in the time it took her to blink.


    Eleanore reached out without taking her eyes off the man, poking Thalia in her side. Her Warden friend was distracted by the Islander, an old biddy who rattled off heavily accented words so fast and aggressively the poor warden had trouble keeping up. Feeling Eleanore¡¯s hand tugging at her clothes Thalia dismissed the crone, turning around to see the withered man stumbling past them. Thalia shook her head and pulled Eleanore closer to her, away from the man. Feeling Eleanore¡¯s questioning gaze, Thalia explained.


    ¡°We wouldn¡¯t get anything useful from him. He''s so high right now he probably doesn¡¯t remember his own name.¡± Thalia said, her voice soft and sad.


    ¡°Are they all like that?¡± Eleanore whispered, shuddering at the image of the stained yellow teeth smeared with blood, that horrible forced smile.


    ¡°No, he was one of the better ones. At least, for how dosed up he was.


    ¡°What?¡± Eleanore gasped.


    ¡°He was stuck in a blissful dream, or perhaps caught in the midst of some hilarity. Sometimes the things they see, hear, or feel can be very sad, or terrifying, or inspire fits of rage. Anything, really.¡±


    ¡°I see why you guys are so eager to get to the root of this.¡± Eleanore admitted in a whisper.


    She shuddered and looked down the street where the wan, wasting figure had finally vanished from sight. Even though she no longer saw him she could still envision him, stumbling, tripping, and bouncing off of walls as he floated through the streets. If he was a good case then she could only imagine how disturbing and dangerous the bad ones could be. It was little wonder the Wardens had established an entire taskforce to root out the source of this infection. She was pulled from her dark thoughts by Thalia¡¯s grunt of frustration.


    She knew she was stating the obvious, but something told her a little kick in the pants would go a long way with Thalia. The Warden bit her lip and scrunched her eyebrows together, thinking. Eleanore watched her friend with an expectant gaze as she lined up her thoughts. Thalia wasn¡¯t known for her intellect, though she wasn¡¯t stupid either. The Warden truly shined, however, when it came to intuition, to pattern recognition and leaps of logic. Eleanore wasn¡¯t disappointed as after a few minutes of terse silence a look of realization dawned on Thalia¡¯s face.


    ¡°They don¡¯t grow here, do they? The flowers.¡±


    ¡°White chrysanthemums? No, Paisley mentioned she¡¯d had a hard time sourcing seeds.¡±


    ¡°And no one else sells them?¡± Thalia asked excitedly.


    ¡°No, there¡¯s not exactly an abundance of florists. Paisley knows them all personally, so she¡¯d have known what her competition sold.¡±


    ¡°Then what do the Islanders who live here do for funerals then? It''s a fortnight either way, and that''s considering if the ship knows they need to bring the flowers.¡± Thalia explained eagerly. ¡°They¡¯d wilt by the time they got here!¡±


    ¡°So? Maybe they use a local replacement?¡± Eleanore argued, more for the sake of discussion than true belief.


    ¡°For something as important as their funeral rites?¡± Thalia arched an eyebrow. ¡°They¡¯re way too invested in their culture for .¡±


    ¡°That still leaves us at a dead end. We have no idea where the Islanders would get them, even if they were using them for funerals.¡±


    ¡°Actually, I might have an idea about .¡± Thalia grinned.


    Thalia grabbed her wrist and took off into a jog, pulling Eleanore along behind her. They pushed deeper into the slums, where the tangle seemed to condense upon itself until the buildings leaned against each other like drunken comrades carrying each other home in the early hours of the morning. Eleanore, poor, studious Eleanore, spent the vast majority of her time either socializing at tea parties and soirees, or bent over her desk tinkering away at some new device. These hobbies lent themselves poorly to running down the city streets, and it wasn¡¯t long before she was gasping for air. She was eminently grateful when their pace slowed, the looming rooftops breaking apart to reveal blue sky.


    Thalia let her wrist go and Eleanore immediately stooped over, putting her hands on her knees as she took in great heaving breaths. She was surprised to see, upon taking stock of the situation, they were standing at the edge of what looked like a small farm. Upon further thought, it was likely the space had once been something like a park but it had since been converted into a public garden in the truest sense. Plots of land had been set aside to grow tomatoes, cabbages, carrots, and other crops. A corner had been converted into a ramshackle chicken coop, several teenagers shoveling waste out of the coop into a waiting wheelbarrow while under the supervision of an older gentleman who was hunched with the weight of years.


    She could feel the sullen, smoldering gaze of the people here and she was only caught in the periphery of their animosity. Every eye here was pinned directly on Thalia, her uniform blatantly declaring her as a Warden, as the legal representation of the authority they resented. Thalia strode forward, completely unperturbed by her lukewarm reception. Eleanore trotted after her, keeping her gaze on the path in front of her. While she walked she centered herself by considering how her work could impact the people here. An automaton to plow the fields? To harvest the crops? One to shovel out the coop, or to collect the eggs? Could she make one with the adaptability to repair their homes? was one of the reasons she even bothered fiddling with the simulacrum of a hand. Specialized tools were too expensive to build for every task, especially by herself. Creating a general use model could pick up the same tools as a person would expand their usefulness a dozen times over.


    Her focus was disrupted as Thalia came to a sudden stop, Eleanore nearly running into her back. She looked at Thalia as her friend let out a small whoop of triumph. Following her gaze, Eleanore was shocked to see a small patch of flowers, or what used to be a patch of flowers. A small fraction of the poofy white blossoms remained upright, though even those were missing petals or featured bent and twisted stems. The majority of the patch was churned up soil and shredded vegetation, a few scattered petals the only evidence the few chrysanthemums remaining were merely the survivors of some sort of disaster.


    ¡°I don¡¯ recall calling the Wardens, an¡¯ I don¡¯ think they ought come out this way if¡¯n I did.¡± A voice snapped out, its timbre not unlike the creaking of wooden beams sagging under their own weight.


    The pair of them turned to address the newcomer, finding themselves staring down the business end of an old, splintered cane. At the far end of its length were the steely gray eyes of an Islander, her form diminutive with age. Supporting her was a boy, an adolescent, though by the look in his eyes you¡¯d think him a man of many years. He regarded them warily, and subtly tried to interpose himself between them and the old woman. Thalia gave the boy a warm smile, which seemed to only serve to foment further distrust as he gripped the woman¡¯s clothes tighter.


    ¡°My apologies ma¡¯am, but would you happen to know who ruined your flower garden?¡± Thalia asked kindly.


    ¡°If I know, I darn sure woul¡¯ not tell you.¡± The woman said archly. An awkward silence stretched between them.


    ¡°What is this place?¡± Eleanore asked, more to breach the silence than anything.


    ¡°A farm.¡± The boy mumbled, glaring.


    ¡°Whose farm?¡± Eleanore stifled her irritation. She was trespassing in his place, it was only right she be polite.


    ¡°It¡¯s our farm. We work the lan¡¯, an¡¯ everyone gets a piece of wha¡¯ comes out.¡± The woman stated flatly, as though she was daring Eleanore to say something about it. ¡°Nothin¡¯ here is of any concern to you¡¯s, so how about you shove off back where ya came from?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for intruding upon you ma¡¯am, but I think I know where your flowers went.¡±


    The woman arched her brow, and though she was reluctant she followed Thalia a bit further into the plot, away from prying ears. The woman urged the boy to stay behind with a gesture, hobbling away on her cane. Eleanore and the boy stared at each other, the lad clearly dissatisfied with her presence.


    ¡°Hello, my name is Eleanore. What¡¯s yours?¡± It came out stilted and awkward, but it was the best she could do.


    ¡°Are you talking about my real name, or the name I have for people like you?¡± He scowled.


    ¡°I-I wasn¡¯t aware there was a difference? I¡¯d prefer your real name, if possible?¡± Eleanore asked, feeling a little out of her depth.


    ¡°My name is Rjalf, but the people like you call me Stephen.¡±


    ¡°Is it alright if I call you Rjalf, or is that rude?¡±


    He was taken aback by this, the question new and foreign to him. He considered it for a time, lips pursed in thought. Just as he was about to answer, a harsh exclamation from the street caught his attention. Both of them turned in response to the sound to see two men standing on the road. One was native to Midburg, his form tall and lanky. The other was a squat, portly man, his features lit with hardly restrained fury was clear even from where Eleanore stood. The boy swallowed nervously and balled his tiny hands into fists, the skin around his knuckles going pale with the tension. He took a hesitant step towards the street before looking back to the old woman he¡¯d arrived with.


    ¡°Mama Bo, my pa¡¯s here!¡± He cried. The woman and Thalia broke from their conversation to look at the boy, Thalia¡¯s gaze going to his father. Upon seeing him her eyes hardened, shards of flint sparkled dangerously in their sockets.


    ¡°You can call me Rjalf, lady.¡± He clarified quickly, almost like he was afraid she¡¯d hear it, before running off.


    He ran up to the pair, to the chubby man who was clearly his father, and an Islander. The man cuffed Rjalf across the head as soon as he was within reach. Snagging him by his ear he pulled the child away even as his youthful voice let out cries of pain. The workers cleaning the coop and harvesting the crops ignored the exchange, hardly favored either of the men with a glance. Those looks they did give them were almost as unpleasant as the looks Thalia received. Their malice was split as Thalia returned to Eleanore¡¯s side, her focus singularly directed at the two men who were already about to vanish from sight.


    ¡°Did she have any leads for you?¡± Eleanore asked, sighing as she was once again forced to keep up with Thalia as she jogged out of the park.


    ¡°No, she had no idea who could have done it, though she helpfully confirmed for me leaving the flowers in my home was essentially a death threat.¡± Thalia laughed mirthlessly.


    ¡°So what are we rushing for now?¡± Eleanore wondered even as they rounded the corner and began to trail behind the men, using the shadows to hide them where they could.


    ¡°I recognize those men.¡± Thalia said. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure I stopped them a while back for smuggling something into the city.¡±


    ¡°So not related to the Faerie Dust investigation?¡± Eleanore asked, causing Thalia to bite her bottom lip.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. They¡¯re clearly users, the both of them.¡± Thalia admitted, though she didn¡¯t let up in her pursuit.


    They followed the men at a distance, making sure to draw little attention to themselves. It hardly mattered, as the two men were locked in conversation, the short, chubby one only breaking from it to yell at his son or to strike him with the back of his hand. The boy, Rjalf, hardly looked up from the ground, keeping his gaze low and his hands down to prevent showing anything that could even vaguely look like defiance. The few times he didn¡¯t he was rewarded with brutality, and Eleanore completely understood his reluctance to draw more attention to himself. This also meant he failed to look behind them and see the Warden and Eleanore skulking around.


    ¡°Are you going to arrest him?¡± Eleanore asked, despairing at seeing the boy being so mistreated.


    ¡°I can¡¯t exactly detain him while I¡¯m supposed to be on vacation.¡± Thalia explained. ¡°Even if I did, Reid would have my ass.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d have your what?¡± A soft voice called from beside the two women, prompting the both of them to jump in fright, turning sharply to address the source of the voice.


    Standing there, in uniform, was Inquirer Reid. The cane-wielding Inquirer was flanked by two senior Wardens. All three of them had narrowed eyes and an aggrieved tilt to the curve of their lips. Eleanore could hear Thalia swallow nervously, her throat bobbing as it caught on the lump of tension caught in it. Thalia managed to snap out a salute, her hands steady and expression placid even as her knees quivered and shook.


    ¡°Inquirer Reid! My apologies sir, I didn¡¯t see you there.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, I didn¡¯t want you to see me anyways.¡± Reid replied dryly.


    ¡°What can I do for you sir?¡± Thalia asked, studiously avoiding meeting Inquirer Reid¡¯s eyes while simultaneously striving to not appear as rude or inattentive.


    ¡°I was just checking up on you.¡± Inquirer Reid smiled, a gentle thing marred by the frothing intensity in his eyes. ¡°I received a message from Eleanore¡¯s mother asking to find the two of you. Apparently a friend of hers saw one of my Wardens leading her daughter to the docks.¡±


    Eleanore flinched, resisting the urge to swear under her breath. It was silly for her to feel like she¡¯d jinxed them by worrying about being caught. Her mother had friends and informants all over the city so it was only a matter of time before someone saw them.


    ¡°We¡¯re just going out on the town sir, no harm in it.¡± Thalia lied through her teeth, her eyes fluttering about as they ran from Reid¡¯s glaring counterparts.


    ¡°Ah, so it was just an outing? A play date?¡± Inquirer Reid rasped.


    ¡°Yessir, having fun with a friend sir.¡± Thalia licked her lips.


    ¡°And those two men you¡¯re following, are they friends of yours? A double date, perhaps?¡± Reid asked, pressing the attack. Thalia remained silent, unwilling or unable to provide an excuse. ¡°If I went and spoke with them would they recognize you? They wouldn¡¯t show any symptoms of extended Dust use?¡±


    ¡°Hypothetically speaking, sir, if you were to ask them if they recognized me they may very well say yes.¡± Thalia said innocently, her gall leaving Eleanore unable to stifle a chuckle. A chuckle died quickly when Inquirer Reid¡¯s flat eyes glanced her way momentarily.


    ¡°Most people would be happy to have some time off, Thalia.¡± Reid said, words grating out through clenched teeth. ¡°Especially after what you went through.¡±


    ¡°Yes sir.¡± Thalia swallowed again.


    ¡°Most people would leave their friends behind if they were going to go on an illicit, dangerous, and off-the-books investigation into the shady part of town.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Reid, sir! She didn¡¯t have a choice.¡± Eleanore interjected, blabbering nervously. ¡°I threatened to tell on her, sir.¡±


    ¡°Who were you going to tattle to?¡± Inquirer Reid asked.


    ¡°Uh, you, sir.¡± Eleanore said, her mouth sticky and dry with nerves.


    Inquirer Reid pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes scrunched closed as he fought off a headache. Shortly thereafter he began to massage his temples, apparently needing more intense stress relief. Finally, with an exasperated sigh as though he hadn¡¯t managed to abate the oncoming migraine, he opened his eyes and regarded Thalia wearily.


    ¡°Alright Warden, since you¡¯re ready to get back to work why don¡¯t you go ahead and tail those two poachers.¡±


    ¡°How long have you been following us?¡± Thalia said, voice laced with an undercurrent of wonder.


    ¡°Now, Warden. Catch up to them now before they completely escape you.¡± Reid snapped. ¡°Oh and you¡¯ll be undergoing situational awareness refresher training once you¡¯re officially back on duty.¡±


    Inquirer Reid pinched his nose again as Thalia whipped around to look down the street where she had last seen the Islander only to find the group rounding a corner in the distance. Inquirer Reid sighed as the Warden took off after them, deadbolt sprinting to catch up before they took another turn and she lost them completely. Eleanore felt a pang of sympathy for the Inquirer. She could only imagine what it would be like to be Thalia¡¯s direct supervisor. She waved back at Thalia as the Warden called her goodbyes over her shoulder, leaving her alone with Reid and his men.


    ¡°Now, Miss Eleanore. Your mother is requesting your presence at home.¡± Reid said to her.


    Eleanore, a grown woman, felt the icy knife of fear plunge into her heart at those words. It was only somewhat soothed by the warmth of her irritation at being controlled and shepherded about once again. She stalked home, forgetting to say her goodbyes to Inquirer Reid. The aged Inquirer let out a sigh and watched her go. They were close enough to the edge of the slums now she would get out without any problems, though he gestured for one of his subordinates to follow her out, just to be safe.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if those two are a match made by the gods or twin furies sent to torment me.¡± He muttered under his breath, his remaining guard snorting with amusement.

 Chapter 16

    Pug found the act of riding another creature as it flew to be a curious experience. It was certainly little different from riding in a wagon or carriage to spare his feet from walking, but it still galled him to have another ferry him about. Some part of him felt as though the sky was his domain, and being outclassed like this was an affront to his fairy pride. He tamped the feeling down as Danica maneuvered, swooping low over the treetops with her wings seemingly a hair¡¯s breadth of the leaves. Whatever reason she had for dropping altitude so perilously was lost on him, though the rapid execution of it confirmed to him he¡¯d had no chance of beating an owl when it came to flight. Even if he could, he certainly wasn¡¯t strong enough to tote Lina along.


    Thinking about his gnome friend triggered a sudden flash of concern. Pug pushed himself upright, hands still buried in Danica¡¯s feathers and gripping tightly to stop himself from being pulled off of her back by the wind. He looked over his shoulder to check on Lina, finding her hunched over beside him with her face pale and her hands in a deathgrip on the feathers beneath her. If the gnome¡¯s abuse of her feathers caused any discomfort, Danica kept it to herself. Poor Tourmaline had beads of sweat on her forehead, an amazing feat given the headwind they were facing tended to wick away moisture. Pug shifted himself over and leaned into her, using his head and shoulder to create an impromptu shelter to diminish the noise of the wind enough for them to speak.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± Pug asked his friend.


    Several seconds passed without comment, Lina simply turning to stare at him through slitted eyes. He frowned and nudged Tourmaline with his elbow, prompting the gnome to respond with a bout of low, fierce grumbling.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Pug asked.


    ¡°I said ¡®stop bothering me¡¯ you stupid little fairy.¡± Lina growled at him while her eyes, barely visible through the crook of her elbow, eyed him venomously.


    ¡°Right, my mistake.¡± Pug replied, lifting one hand in an assuaging gesture. He couldn¡¯t hold her attitude against her, the terror and helplessness she must be experiencing far greater than he could understand. Worse came to worst, he could at least fly to the ground if he fell off.


    Having no good conversational partners, Tourmaline being too terrified and Danica being too far to hear him over the wind, Pug found himself letting his thoughts wander. He found it interesting the newly minted owl matriarch was willing to carry on her back. Her reputation would suffer for it, certainly. Though her reputation was likely to be rather poor anyways, considering she led an insurrection by the owls¡¯ mortal enemy. His worries, suitably mulled over, morphed into new worries, as they were wont to do. He hoped they were still operating within Baba¡¯s timeframe, they would arrive on time. He hoped he¡¯d know what he was looking for when they got to the Hearth, the old witch giving them little more than ¡®Go here and you¡¯ll find something helpful.¡¯ Pug found himself unable to resist the urge to count the days since he, Lina, and Slink had begun their journey, desperate to assure himself they were still on time.


    Pug knew rehashing the same concerns in an endless loop wasn¡¯t accomplishing anything, however there was nothing available to distract himself with. Danica was too busy flying and was unlikely to want to talk to him in any case, Lina was far too wrapped up in her admittedly justified fear of heights to engage with him, and the novelty of seeing the treetops from above had worn on him. It was with no small amount of gratitude he greeted the rising sun, its blazing edge just beginning to peak past the horizon. His joy grew to outright elation as he realized Danica was slowing and bleeding altitude, a wide banking turn bringing them into the canopy below. The owl slid between the boughs with practiced precision, spreading her wings wide and beating back the air to kill the last of her forward momentum. She hovered for a moment before realizing Tourmaline wasn¡¯t getting off anywhere but ground level. Forced to abandon her prior plan of perching on a branch in the trees, Danica dropped the last few paces to the ground.


    Pug leapt free of Danica¡¯s back once she touched down, letting out a squawk of surprise as his legs gave way under his weight and sent him into a sprawl in the dirt. Spitting out dirt and churned up plant matter he turned and saw Lina still clinging tightly to Danica¡¯s back, the owl matriarch regarding him with an exasperated and helpless expression. Pug sighed and struggled to his feet before leaping back on Danica¡¯s back with a flutter of his wings. He gently shook Lina, murmuring soft reassurances they were, in fact, on the ground and the gnome was safe to look around herself and confirm it. Tourmaline snuck a peek from under her arm and leapt from Danica¡¯s back the instant she saw they were on solid ground. The gnome collapsed much like Pug had, but she seemed content to nuzzle the soil like a child returned to her long missed mother.


    Pug watched with no small amount of amusement as Lina scooped up handfuls of dirt and brought them to her face, crumbling the clods of earth and detritus between her fingers and watching the soil fall from her hands to the ground. It was as if she didn¡¯t fully believe where she was, though her moans of relief seemed to indicate she was slowly starting to accept reality. Shaking his head at her antics, Pug waved Danica away and the owl took off immediately, moving with an alacrity actually hurt Pug¡¯s feelings. The matriarch took off with a beat of her powerful wings, not even bothering to say goodbye. He supposed it made sense as she did have a nation to run, and they were probably some of the worst passengers she¡¯d ever carried. Still, he waved at her as she flew away though he doubted she saw it in her eagerness to escape.


    Leaving Lina to reacquaint herself with solid ground Pug surveyed the area, seeing Hummingbird Hearth for the first time. He¡¯d heard stories, most inhabitants of the Wylde had, but he found every story he¡¯d heard to fall short of the mark. He was standing at the edge of an enormous clearing, a clearing in the shape of a perfect circle as near as Pug could tell. The uniformity of the clearing felt unnatural, the outer edge being ringed by at least two dozen trees, each of them equally distant from each other. They weren¡¯t as large as the massive redwoods he called home though they were quite magnificent in their own right. The smooth trunks towered over the rest of the forest, the first branches splitting off the trunk above the tops of the surrounding trees. The boughs and branches of the trees reached out to the trees beside them in the circle and directly across the clearing, twisting and tangling their branches together in a dense, ceiling-like weave.


    The end result of their interwoven growth was the canopy above was not unlike the interior of a dome, the vaulted leafy ceiling giving a sense of openness to the grove. Each of the trees forming the periphery, which in his head he was beginning to refer to as the pillar trees, had masterful carvings in the side of the tree facing into the clearing. The carvings were all of a woman in flowing robes standing with their legs together and their arms lifted high overhead. Her upturned faces had sharp features, a pointed upturned nose perched above full lips with a mischievous curl to them. With eyes a slight bit larger proportionally than most other races gave a cute, almost kitten-like cast to her face. Wild hair was just barely tucked behind her pointed ears, where it flowed into the trunk seamlessly.


    The carvings were captivating and lifelike, so much so Pug expected them to shift and move when he took his eyes off of them. Closer inspection revealed their feet were blended into the wood near the base of the tree as well, making it appear as though below the knee her legs sprawled out to become roots. Each pillar tree stood as such, hand in hand, and a feeling of awe crept on Pug. Once he had absorbed as much of the artistry as he could Pug turned to inspect the clearing they encircled.


    The main body of the clearing was occupied by a pond so still and clean it seemed as though a giant mirror had been set into the earth. The water was so reflective he could not, in fact, tell what lay beneath its shimmering surface and a deep foreboding filled him at the thought of disturbing the placid waters. The pond terminated in an abrupt and clean edge, another perfect circle, and a dense thicket of flowers sprung up right at the water''s edge. Without rhyme or reason the plants on the edge of the pond grew and bloomed into the upper bounds of how large they could grow with no heed given to the season, climate, or habitat they were beholden to. Daylilies, petunias, hibiscus, all of it and more grew side by side in a riotous explosion of oranges, yellows, reds, pinks, and purples. Pug could even see his namesake nestles among them, the sight of the foxgloves causing a warm tingling rush to pour forth from his chest and into his extremities, his skin abuzz.


    The soft sound of footsteps on dirt drew his attention to Lina who was stumbling up, still shaky with residual fear. She hardly watched where she stepped, forcing Pug to catch her as she stumbled over a slightly upraised bit of turf. Her gaze never left the pillar trees which she gazed at in unadulterated wonder as Pug pulled her to her feet beside him. They stood side by side and watched as iridescent birds, the namesake of the Hearth, flitted back and forth from flower to flower in a frenzy. The fleeting creatures zipped through the air above the pond with such rapidity they blurred into colorful comets. Each dash and pirouette was faithfully reflected in the mirrored surface of the water below, creating a mesmerizing whirlwind of colors and motion made it hard for the pair to count the hummingbirds. Silently the two of them pointed out especially flamboyant or beautiful birds to each other, gesticulating but hardly daring to make a sound in fear of startling the hummingbirds and breaking the magic of the moment.


    Pug was especially captivated by a particular specimen approached on the side opposite Lina, its muddled green and vague blues causing it to periodically vanish as it camouflaged itself with the wooded backdrop. It was only as it paused to feed from a massive hibiscus blossom it became visible, stark against the bold yellow and pink petals. The thrum of its wings, beating too fast to see, was somewhat frightening to Pug. While he knew they were likely so delicate as to do little damage if they connected with him, their blindingly fast fluttering made him nervous nonetheless. He couldn''t imagine his own wings moving so fast, he¡¯d be constantly worried they¡¯d wrench themselves free of his back and shoot off into the sky. Pug was unfortunately forced to look away from the object of his fascination as Lina squeezed his hand sharply, her gnomish strength causing his bones to creak.


    Pug winced and turned to his friend, prepared to tell her off but found himself brought face to face with another hummingbird. How the creature had gotten so close he did not know, as it was easily within reach if he were simply to reach for it. He realized suddenly he heard no wingbeat, or any sound at all. Even the wind ought to be put off by its flying was absent. He could more clearly hear the hum of the bird to his left than find any sign of this hummingbird''s presence. Tourmaline stared, mouth agape as the bird cocked and tilted its head, fixing its dark eyes on each of them in turn. Its feathers were a deep ruby red, a color so uniform it seemed as if the bird was carved from one chunk of gemstone. Seemingly deciding neither he or Lina were food or a threat, the hummingbird took off along the shore of the pond.


    Pug tracked its flight avidly, their purpose in coming here all but forgotten. It might have remained that way but the red comet snapped to a stop midair with a muted whump, not unlike the sound of a stack of papers made as it was dropped on a table. The blur of a bird that had moments before been moving faster than Pug could easily follow suddenly came into focus as it slammed into a dead halt before plummeting. To Pug¡¯s confused relief it fell only a span or so before it came to a stop midair, dangling from some construction Pug couldn¡¯t see.


    With a wordless cry Lina took off towards the fallen hummingbird, Pug shortly behind. As they came closer the situation clarified itself, for they saw the hummingbird was suspended mid-air by a lattice of remarkably fine filaments. For a moment Pug thought they were some sort of massive spider-web, but a closer inspection revealed none of the sticky glue a spider would use to trap its prey. Instead the bird was held in place as the loosely drooping filaments wrapped around it, particularly its feet and beak. As the heady high had overtaken him due to the beauty of the place fled before the flood of anxiety rising up in him he began to take in details around them he¡¯d previously missed.


    The most egregious detail he¡¯d missed were the two wooden posts driven into the ground a good distance apart, the posts holding an array of thin, nearly invisible, threads. Posts were mostly hidden in the massive flower patch, however the area astound them was slightly trampled, blossoms smashed, stems bent and broken. The array of translucent, yet surprisingly durable, filaments were split into two purposes Pug could see. A vertical ¡®wall¡¯ of more taut, firmer lines were what had initially caught the hummingbird as it tried to fly through them. Those had knocked it out of the sky where it fell into the second group, a ¡®floor¡¯ of slack filaments that served to get twisted up and tangled around the hummingbird as it struggled. And it was still struggling, twitching and fluttering its wings as it kicked its feet, but each attempt to free itself only served to ensnare it ever further.


    Unsheathing his knife from where it rested at his hip, Pug circled the net cautiously. Making doubly sure there were no secondary traps or protections he¡¯d get tangled up with himself, Pug lifted into the air with a few tentative wingbeats. It took time but he controlled his ascent and remained on the lookout for any unpleasant surprises as he made his way to the top of the nearest post. Touching down atop it, only after he¡¯d thrice checked it for anything nefarious, Pug crouched and leaned over the edge above the first layer of filaments serving as the top of the ¡®wall.¡¯ Gathering the first few cables in his hand, he swiped at them with his knife. They gave way thankfully quickly, the taut threads snapping and giving way with an audible twang.


    Satisfied he could break the trap, for there was little doubt in his mind it was a trap, he considered the most efficient way to free the ruby red bird. He could shimmy down the length of the post severing the cables one clump at a time, but sounded time consuming and, more importantly, boring. Rather, he climbed over the far side of the post and hugged the construction, his hands just barely meeting on the other side. There was still enough leeway for him to align his knife over the surface the threads emerged from, so he got his knife into position and lessened the pressure his thighs were maintaining on the post to keep him in place. He began to slide down the post immediately, his inner thighs and front of his torso warming with friction. Aligned and pulled by his weight, the knife sliced through each of the threads with a curious pop, a sound only a cable under tension could make.


    Proceeding far faster than he would have had he chosen to climb along the post addressing the threads one by one, Pug was desperately glad whoever had built the trap had sanded it down. The worry he¡¯d take a high velocity splinter into a sensitive area was a pressing one, and though he was too deep in to stop he did pull his face as far from the post as he could. The process was quick though, only snagging when he got to the bundle of threads that made the ¡®floor¡¯ of the trap. Since they were left slack the knife had a bit harder of a time cutting through them, though he quickly solved the issue by wrapping them in his free hand and pulling them until there was no slack, then quickly sawing at them with his knife. Once it was completely severed the net holding the hummingbird drooped and carried its prisoner to the ground.


    Tourmaline immediately got to work with her own knife, scurrying around the hummingbird as she hewed and sawed at the netting. Pug checked to be sure the friction hadn¡¯t burned through his clothes, patting his more delicate areas nervously to assure himself they hadn¡¯t been worn away, before darting over to join his friend. The subject of their rescue was thankfully calm, its dark eyes making its exact thoughts and feelings a mystery as it watched them set about freeing it. The process only took moments with the both of them working on it and the bird shot free as soon as it could sense freedom. There was little in the way of a thank-you, though Pug thought he saw the bird stop and look back at them once it was a good distance away from the trap. It bobbed up and down in the air, an act Pug chose to believe was akin to a nod of gratitude, before zipping off to join its brethren in the flowers around the pond once again. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Who would set something like this up?¡± Lina asked with disgust, looking over a bundle of netting as she turned it over in her hands. ¡°Setting up a trap like this in a place so¡­¡±


    ¡°Sacred?¡± Pug finished for her. Lina nodded thoughtfully, her somber gaze never drifting from the threads in her grasp.


    Pug trotted over to the other post, no longer in urgent need of dismantling though it still posed something of a threat. A sigh escaped his lips as he decided he¡¯d cut this one the boring way, his chafed thighs still sullenly burning as they reminded him of how little they enjoyed his previous escapade. After several minutes of hacking at the cables and cursing under his breath, the nearly invisible threads tangled in the dirt, likely beyond all recovery and use. With only the posts remaining, Pug mulled over how to break down the rest of the trap. He turned around as he heard Lina stomping over, splashing about dirt and mud as she kicked the dirt in frustration. She was clearly even more affected by the sudden souring of their wonder upon seeing the Hearth than he was.


    The irate gnome strode right up to the first post and planted her feet. Gripping it tightly she began to rock the post back and forth, the supernatural strength hidden in her small frame easily moving the wooden post. It wook only moments until there was a series of cracking sounds as the post began to break, separating itself from the rest of the body below the earth. The post tumbled to the dirt, collapsing atop the pile of netting left discarded in the dirt. Without pause she walked over to the other post, repeating the process.


    ¡°It''s not a perfect solution, but at least no more critters will be snared by it.¡± Lina said, somewhat apologetically.


    ¡°I doubt the hummingbirds are going to complain about how it looks.¡± Pug said, a teasing lilt creeping into his words. ¡°Besides, it''ll be reclaimed by the forest soon enough.¡±


    The sharp report of a branch breaking underfoot perforated the relative calm of Hummingbird Hearth, cutting Tourmaline off as she opened her mouth to retort. The namesake hummingbirds all vanished immediately, zipping into the shadows of the forest. Turning, Pug was astounded to see giants striding into the clearing. Mimicking Lina and himself in form, the creatures were many times their own size, towering over them. Enormous beasts, their footsteps resounded through the soil and their voices bordered on the edge of being painful to hear. Even worse, the massive creatures knew they were there, malice burning in their eyes as they glared at Pug and Tourmaline.


    ¡°The little monsters went and broke the Merchant¡¯s net. He¡¯s going to blame us for Gregor, mark my words.¡± The taller and lankier of the two spat. His features were narrow with beady, crowlike eyes glittering above his hook-like nose.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry Thom, I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll forgive us if we bring the scraps back to him with the culprits in hand.¡± The shorter of the two replied. His face was pig-like and brutish, and hostility all but oozed from him.


    Pug reached out and grasped Lina¡¯s shoulder, pulling her to him as he shuffled back from the rapidly approaching giants. Tilting his head close to Lina, Pug spoke in a low voice though he doubted he had to go far. The giants, which he reasoned to be humans, were large enough he doubted they could hear his comparatively small voice easily.


    ¡°I¡¯ll distract them, you hide in the underbrush.¡± He advised Lina, shushing her and continuing as she tried to argue. ¡°There¡¯s no way we can fight these guys in a straight up brawl. We should try to run away and figure something out from a safe distance.¡±


    Lina didn¡¯t look very happy about it, but she nodded in acceptance. Even with her gnomish strength it was beyond her ability to go toe to toe with these creatures, and she knew it. She took off towards the nearest clump of flowers while Pug took to the sky, flying as quickly as he could into the face of the shorter, nastier human. The human, Gregor, reflexively went to swat Pug away, however Pug was too nimble and easily dipped and dodged around his meaty hands. Pug was surprised to find that while the giants were faster than their size would have him believe, they weren¡¯t very dexterous at all and had trouble catching him. Pug wasn¡¯t the fastest flier he knew by any means, yet the humans seemed painfully dull and clumsy in their attempts to swat him from the air.


    Pug flew closer to his target, harrying him with little jabs of his spear or slashes of his knife. Soon enough the beast was sweating and red with anger, swearing as he swiped fruitlessly at empty air. Small slices and cuts were peppering Gregor¡¯s face, each weeping miniscule rivulets of blood. Pug was under no illusions he could win this fight, in fact he was sure all he had done so far was annoy the human. However he was confident he¡¯d be able to keep this up for a bit longer, at least long enough for Lina to get away. was, until a sharp cry caught his attention.


    Darting away from Gregor and gaining enough altitude he didn¡¯t have to worry about the short human, Pug pivoted to the source of the cry. The taller of the two creatures must have decided helping his friend was fruitless, for he had broken away while Pug was distracted and closed the distance between himself and Lina, snatching the gnome up from the flower bed before she could make good her escape. She was held fast in the human¡¯s grip while its other hand went about withdrawing a cloth sack from its belt, which it struggled to open with one hand. Taking the chance afforded him by the stubborn drawstring on the burlap sack Pug dashed through the air towards the skinny human, Gregor¡¯s cry of warning at his back.


    Pug flew the fist holding his friend as the taller human stumbled back to avoid him. Deciding to target the human¡¯s thumb, as it was the only digit exposed enough to damage, Pug began his assault. Swooping in, the fair jabbed his spear forward and into the flesh underneath the tall human¡¯s thumbnail. Thom responded with a howl of pain, as he expected, but his grip on Lina didn¡¯t loosen. With a frustrated curse Pug left his spear where it was embedded, flitting up a little bit above it. Before Thom could react Pug stopped beating his wings, dropping his entire body weight onto the haft of the spear whose head was still embedded under Thom¡¯s fingernail.


    With a wrenching tear and a pop the spear twisted free, gouging a vicious tear in the vulnerable meat and releasing a gout of blood. Thom¡¯s hand snapped open as the human shook out its wrist, as though he could fling free the pain, before bringing the savaged thumb to his mouth where he sucked on the wound. Lina was dropped onto the ground, landing on her rear with a thump and a dazed look on her face. Pug continued his plummet to the ground, landing next to her and giving Lina a rough slap on the back to get her moving before again.He made one pit stop as he collected his bloody spear from the mud before lifting off again.


    With both giants now focused on him, Pug resumed his plan of being a general nuisance. Alternating between the two he continued his pattern of leaving small cuts and prodding with his spear. Thom only defended himself one arm, still sullenly sucking on his wounded thumb like an infant. Gregor had both hands free, however his substantial lack of height made it a bit easier for Pug to evade him. He managed to keep them distracted for a few minutes, watching Lina disappear into the flowers from the corner of his eye. He was about to break away and hide himself when his luck finally ran out.


    Peeling off from an aborted lunge with his spear, Pug didn¡¯t sense Thom lashing out from his right. Suddenly struck by what felt like an avalanche, Pug was batted straight into the ground. The fairy hit with enough velocity to plow a furrow into the soft earth, and bounced a fair few times before coming to a rest, each impact sending a series of cracks resounding through his body. When he finally came to a rest Pug was a ball of pain, hardly able to open his eyes. He wasn¡¯t sure what was broken, but he was pretty sure he had more broken bits than not .


    Letting out a weak moan, he tried and failed to move as his body refused to respond. The barest of twitches sent hot agony through him, each breath shallow and weak as anything deeper than a gasp had him coughing wetly into the mud. At the periphery of his awareness he perceived rapid, heavy footfalls approaching him before he was roughly lifted into the air. The movement jostled his wounds and sent a cascade of rending pain through him. Pug protested weakly in the form of further moaning, but his captor either didn¡¯t understand, didn¡¯t care, or both. Pug felt the third option was the most likely.


    The rough hands held him aloft by pinching his wings together, so Pug¡¯s whole weight was on his wings. This would also have been an extremely uncomfortable experience had the whole of Pug¡¯s rib cage not been splinters in his chest. Between fits of pain and faint spells where he threatened to lose consciousness, Pug could hear the human was holding him speak.


    ¡°Give it up¡­ your friend¡­¡± Gregor threatened vaguely. Pug wasn¡¯t sure exactly what the human was trying to say. Only after what felt like an eternity of concentration Pug realized the human was using him to get Lina to turn herself in. Pug hoped the little gnome didn¡¯t fall for it. He was relatively certain he wasn¡¯t going to survive the day, even if the humans didn¡¯t finish him off. His insides didn¡¯t feel quite right, and he coughed up a concerning amount of blood even as he took a mental inventory of his condition.


    Through half closed eyes Pug saw as Lina emerged from a cluster of flowers. He cursed inwardly as Thom darted forward and grabbed his friend, not hesitating to shove her into the same burlap sack he had been struggling with before. Thom stored Lina somewhere outside of Pug¡¯s field of view before coming back and picking up the snare Pug had destroyed. He must have passed out at that point, as the next thing he remembered he was being shaken roughly by his wings. Pug wanted to cry out, but he was even weaker than before and could barely force his breath past his lips.


    ¡°Damn Thom, we wanted to capture this one.¡± Gregor laughed. ¡°You damn near killed it in one strike!¡±


    ¡°The little pest mutilated my thumb!¡± Thom cried indignantly. It sounded like he had something in his mouth, and Pug figured he was still nursing his wounded thumb.


    ¡°Honestly I¡¯m glad you did it. The little bastard cut up my face real good.¡± Gregor shook Pug out of frustration, sending fresh waves of pain skittering through his body. ¡°We¡¯ve caught plenty of fairies for the Merchant before anyways. He won¡¯t miss this one. Especially not with wings like these!¡±


    ¡°Never seen a fairy with wings like . Aren¡¯t they usually more colorful?¡±


    ¡°Maybe it''s the runt of the litter or something. Disgusting if you ask me, they look dirty.¡±


    ¡°Should we stick around and try to catch another hummingbird?¡±


    ¡°No¡­¡±


    The words drifted out again. They were replaced by a deep droning noise. Pug couldn¡¯t see the source of the noise, but he felt its reverberations in his chest and the back of his teeth. A cloying sickly warmth pressed against his face, and he was finding it hard to breathe. Worse, his limbs felt twisted and cramped, pressed into his chest and he couldn¡¯t extend them. A terrible weariness stole over him then, a weariness overtook his pains and drowned them, numbed his extremities and pressed in tightly against his eyes. The weariness might have overtaken him then but a voice, deep and full of hate, reverberated through the darkness.


    ¡°Little fairy, are you awake? I want you to be awake for this, as I repay you for the hassle you gave me.¡±


    Pug cracked an eye, dried blood near sealing it shut. Still he was able to see Gregor looming over him, leering at the fairy he still had pinned in his grasp. The pudgy human smiled a warped, malicious grin. He licked his lips, not out of any dryness but out of some twisted anticipation, and spoke.


    ¡°For all the hassle you caused little fairy, I¡¯m going to make you pretty again.¡±


    Pug regarded the human with confusion. Either the human wasn¡¯t making any sense, or Pug had finally lost his faculties to the pain. It was only as the human pressed a finger at his back and began to pull with the hand grasping his wings Pug understood. The wounded fairy let out a small cry of protest, kicking his legs and flailing his arms weakly but he was in no condition to fight back. With a sickening rending noise and a sensation like having the skin flayed from his bones Pug felt something come free. Something shouldn¡¯t ever be apart from him. It felt like he¡¯d been gutted, a cold emptiness filling his torso.


    Pug hardly registered it when he struck the ground. Neither did he perceive the thudding footfalls of the giant¡¯s departure. All Pug could feel were the two rents in his back felt for all the world like cold flames eating away at him. All of his broken bones and mangled organs were nothing compared to pain, loss. Strength poured out of him through the wound, and a deep lethargy began to settle. Pug resigned himself to this fate, dying in the dirt of Hummingbird Hearth. He could not amass the strength to so much as twitch. He would not be walking, or even crawling, away from this.


    Some unknown time later consciousness crawled upon him once again, bringing with it fresh reminders of his twisted and broken form. Something was tugging at his shirt, pulling at the collar like a cat snagging its kitten by the nape of the neck. Pug¡¯s left eye, frozen open with mud and blood and irritated with dryness, saw ruby feathers shifting back and forth in its limited field of view. The ruby hummingbird had returned, though Pug didn¡¯t know what the silly little creature hoped to accomplish. It painstakingly dragged him through mud and grass, each jostle certainly aiding Pug¡¯s broken bones in their quest to pierce his every organ.


    An excruciating eternity later Pug¡¯s open eye perceived the mirrored surface of the pond. In it he could see his own reflection, smeared with dirt and blood and swelling with tremendous bruises. One arm was twisted unrecognizably, and though the other looked intact it drooped lazily and would not move no matter how he focused. Everything below his breast was out of view, but based on how it felt it was unlikely to be in better shape. Pug wondered why the bird brought him here just as it dropped him, plunging his broken body into the chill waters of the pond. Pug would have flailed or panicked if he could have, but instead the waters of the pond subsumed him quietly. It poured through lips too weak and dry to stop it, and invaded his nostrils. A distant part of him was aware he was drowning.


    Is the silly bird mercy killing me? Pug thought incredulously.


    It was only a while later Pug realized he probably should have drowned. He wasn¡¯t sure how long he had been in the pond, but he had certainly been breathing straight pond water for a while now. In fact, the pain had subsided somewhat. He wasn¡¯t going to go singing and dancing, but he was no longer crippled by pain. He could curl his toes and wiggle his fingers. Both eyes blinked, shaking off the filth loosened by the water. He was able to crane his head about and look down at himself, and to his disbelief he was almost completely restored. Pug took an experimental deep breath and found not only could he do so without slicing his lungs to ribbons against his ribs, but the water flowed in without pain or discomfort. Pug wondered if perhaps he had died, when suddenly a narrow beak plunged into the pond and speared his top.


    Once the owner of the beak was confident he was securely grasped it began to plunge up and down, shaking Pug about as though he were a piece of laundry with a particularly stubborn stain or blemish. In all actuality, Pug saw quite a bit of blood and filth come free of his clothes as he was shaken about, though did little to garner his acceptance of the matter. With a sudden jerk he was wrenched free of the pond and slammed onto his back in the dirt. Backlit by the open sky above the glade and the sun, the ruby hummingbird twisted its head to regard him with its beady black eye. The creature must have been satisfied by whatever it saw, for it quickly took flight and left his field of view.


    Pug still felt two lines of pain on his back, but beyond it seemed the mystical waters of Hummingbird Hearth had cured him of most of his wounds. Pug was still far too weak to move however, and so he laid for a time considering his situation. Lina was gone, taken by humans. He thought it likely this was the same fate Jet had suffered. He wanted desperately to pursue his friend and her kidnappers, but he could hardly lift his hand at the moment. There was also the issue of his wings. Without them he would be forced to walk after the giants, a losing proposition if he had ever heard one. Pug began to despair of saving his friends when he heard the thumping footsteps of a giant approaching. Using all of his strength he tilted his head forward to look at the approaching creature. It would either be his salvation or his doom, and he was in no condition to change his fate.

 Chapter 17

    Thalia slapped at her neck as yet another of the unholy insects of the forest alighted on her sweat-damp skin. The creature, a shadowy blob in the gloom and murk of the thick forest at evening, made a horrifically solid sound as its hefty chitinous form rebounded off of a nearby tree. Thalia shivered in disgust despite herself and grumbled as she reiterated to herself -in her own mind, of course, lest her quarry hear her- this is why she moved to the city. She hated bugs, mud, and the odd humidity seemed to build up in the Wylde. Grimacing as she kneeled into the underbrush she narrowed her eyes and peered through the shadows. She was no ranger and stalking prey through the wilderness was profoundly not within her skillset. She¡¯d barely had enough time to send a message to Inquirer Reid informing him she was pursuing her quarry outside of the city, let alone alerting the rangers her quarry was heading into the Wylde. Even if she had known at the time, which she hadn¡¯t. She¡¯d have to hope Reid would send them after her, if only to bring her back to be reprimanded for taking a little too much leeway with her orders. It''s not like she could have known when he told her to capture them they¡¯d be leaving Midburg, could she?


    Returning her attention to the muddy earth in front of her, it only took a moment for her to find the deep furrows in the ground where her quarry had traipsed through without a care in the world, reassuring Thalia she was still on their trail. Stifling a curse as she stood back up on aching knees, she settled for a sigh before setting off after the pair. Pushing aside low hanging branches, she still felt the phantom sensation of insect legs scurrying across the skin of her neck, forcing her to ask herself what she was doing out here. Surely, she reasoned, the two poachers had to return to Midburg at some point? As soon as they had left the city she should have turned around and gone to Inquirer Reid for support. He could have had the Skullcaps and Wardens put a watch on the gates and simply detain the two when they returned.


    Yet for some reason Thalia had felt called to be here, sallying forth from the city without any support. After all, who knew what damage the two of them could perpetrate outside the city? Furthermore, it was her duty to protect the citizens of the kingdom at large when and where she could, was it not? Thalia almost managed to convince herself she had pursued them entirely for such altruistic reasons, and not because she loved the hunt, hungered after the satisfaction of being the one to bring them in. Remembering the two of them had escaped her once already chafed at her as she worried what crimes they may have propagated directly because she failed to catch them.


    Unable to even stomp her feet in irritation in fear of giving away her position and alerting the two poachers, Thalia ground her teeth and pushed through a particularly thick bit of brush with perhaps more force than necessary. She stumbled through as the plants gave way with less resistance than she had anticipated, catching her feet in an area of relative openness after the dense clutter of the underbrush behind her. Relieved as she was to have a little space, she checked her surroundings for her quarry. They had quite a lead on her, as she¡¯d had to stalk them from afar on the road here and they were both more confident in the Wylde than she and didn¡¯t have to worry about not making a racket as they traveled. She assumed they were a good hour or two ahead of her now, but didn¡¯t mean they hadn''t set up camp in this convenient clearing. Only once she was satisfied there was no one immediately present did she allow herself to take in the sight.


    Her breath was stolen away as she inspected the clearing, a great mirror-like pond ringed on all sides by enormous flowers. In fact just a few paces before her the grandest assortment of blossoms she had ever seen bloomed, a riotous collaboration of all the colors she could name and a few she suspected she could not. For the second time today Thalia regretted not paying more attention when her mother had instructed her in the flowers, plants, and names of such things. Instead all she could do is gape at each plant, though even with her limited knowledge she could tell there were several varieties of plants here that wouldn''t normally coexist or share habitats. Part of Thalia yearned to pluck a blossom ro bring home to Eleanore, to touch the perfect reflection of the wooden canopy reflected in the pond just to assure herself it was truly just a reflection but she didn¡¯t. Something deep within told her to meddle with this place was a bad idea, she was a tolerated guest here but the situation could quickly change.


    Indeed the shadow of this foreign, unnatural, dreadful feeling sobered her instantly, quelling the awe and wonder she had been feeling. Forcing herself to analyze her surroundings with a more critical eye she noticed the trees almost immediately. Ringing the pond and flower patch with artificial, too-precise spacing, the trees were set equidistantly from each other and each displayed meticulous carvings, all in the shape of a woman.Thalia was struck by the primal feeling she had seen such a creature before, if not the same one depicted here. As Thalia analyzed the feeling she wondered if perhaps she had not seen it, but her ancestors had lived alongside such beings. That her very blood was warning her of the danger and power the woman on the trees carried, and in the face of the mysterious threat the remnants of her desires to meddle in the affairs of the grave dried like mud on a hot summer¡¯s day.


    Eager to be gone from this place, Thalia turned her focus back to looking for traces of the poachers she had followed out to this place. Clear signs of habitation pervaded the area from trampled and broken down plants, to the remnants of a fire still smoldering. They¡¯d intended to camp here certainly, but something had driven them off. Following their footprints, sometimes by guesswork and other times by treading through paths torn through the dense flower patches, she was surprised to see familiar patterns emerge. She may not have been a woodsman or a ranger, but her Warden instincts were honed and trained for crime scenes, and the tracks she saw wouldn''t have looked out of place in one of Midburgs muddy back alleys. There were clear signs of a struggle and two different blood patterns in the foliage, though one was unusual in its light coloration and when she touched it with her fingertip and brought it closer for inspection she marveled it smelled quite sweet. More curious than that, Thalia saw what looked to be extremely tiny bootprints, smaller than even the tiniest child. Standing upright, her thought process was completely unraveled by a bright red blur swooping towards her face, right at eye level.


    Thalia flinched away and brought her fists up in front of her face defensively, hunkering behind them in an attempt to prevent the projectile from striking her. She peeked past her hands nervously as the impact never came and was relieved to see the red blur was nothing more than a hummingbird. It floated in front of her patiently, watching with dark eyes as she lowered her guard. As motionless as it was, Thalia was able to see it in great detail. Seamlessly smooth feathers and consistent coloring almost tricked her into believing the creature was carved from stone, despite the blur of its wings and the fact it was hovering at eye level above the forest floor.


    She approached the bird cautiously, half convinced the creature was the familiar of some witch, or perhaps a vile fey creature came to trick her. When she got within a certain distance it fled from her before coming to stop a few paces away. Thalia looked at the bird curiously, wondering if there was some intellect at work behind its enigmatic black eyes. Tentative steps away from the bird saw it fly closer and chirp in irritation until she resumed walking towards it. Once she was moving the way it apparently wanted it would fly a distance away and wait for her to catch up. Part of her warned this was clearly an intelligent denizen of the Wylde, and she should flee before she was cursed. The other, louder part of her, the Warden part of her, prodded her to follow the creature.


    Shrugging and shoving the part of her feared the mystical and unknown into the back of her mind, Thalia strode after the hummingbird. Though the little red blur did nothing to indicate it, she got the sudden sense it was excited by this turn of events. It bolted through the air once more as she got close enough, flying over to the edge of the pond. Once there it began to circle in place, chittering wildly. Trotting up to it, Thalia moved up to the shore of the pond, coming to an abrupt halt as she saw a diminutive form laying on the shore. She tried to look at the hummingbird for confirmation, or perhaps further information, but the gem-like apparition was apparently satisfied with this outcome for it vanished into thin air with nary a trace. Thalia whipped around in an effort to track it but found the effort to be futile, unable to find the deceptively clever bird again


    Frowning, she turned back to the small humanoid thing before her which was laying face down in the mud, its head tilted to the side so it could breathe. As she knelt and brought herself closer to the creature she became aware of two horrendous rents in its back, pooled blood beginning to dry into a thick crust over them. Given their symmetry and odd placement, Thalia¡¯s couldn¡¯t help but wonder if the wounds were the result of a sacrificial rite, or perhaps torture. In either case, on a human the wounds would be deep and likely fatal. Thalia unsheathed her knife from her belt and carefully brought the tip before the tiny being¡¯s face, the flat of the blade as close as she could get to it. She withdrew it quickly and checked the knife, both shocked and relieved to see a small bit of fog near the tip evaporated almost before she could register it. The creature, whatever it was, was still breathing.


    Is this the work of those two? Thalia thought grimly. Even if it isn¡¯t, even if this thing isn¡¯t human, could I abide by leaving it to die?


    With a sigh she cut away a strip of cloth, the cleanest she could find, from her uniform and used it to bandage the wound as best she could. Picking the creature up gently, she cradled it against her chest like an infant. Except, she kept it face down with its face free so it could still breathe. She crossed her other arm over it, sheltering the tiny being from the growing cold of the night while simultaneously putting pressure on the makeshift bandage. Satisfied she had done all she could with her limited resources, Thalia turned and fled the clearing as quickly as she could. She made her way out of the forest with far less care than she had made her way in, only slowing to orient herself by her tracks or the various markings she had left on the way in to guide her back out. The trek back to Midburg was a long one, and she was not certain the little creature she held in her arms would make it, but she¡¯d give it the best chance she could by moving as quickly as possible.


    ***


    It was dawn by the time Thalia made it back to Midburg. The Skullcaps at the gate almost didn''t let her in, not recognizing the wayward Warden through the various layers of dirt, grime, and foliage covering her. They¡¯d quickly changed their tune when she tore into them, recognizing if not the appearance of the Warden, then at least familiar with the tone a Warden took when unlucky Skullcaps got in their way. Whispers about her appearance and whether she was the Warden Inquirer Reid was looking for the day before began almost immediately, but Thalia paid them no mind. Instead she broke into a run once she was through the gate, pelting down the city streets, weaving her way through any obstacles in her path. She had no idea what to do with the creature in her arms, so she decided to bring the issue to the smartest person she knew. It was lucky she was as familiar with Eleanore¡¯s workshop as she was her own home, she just had to hope her friend was there.


    Thalia¡¯s gamble was thankfully rewarded, the first bit of good luck the beleaguered Warden had seen in hours. Bursting through the door to Eleanore¡¯s workshop she scared her friend witless, prompting the tinkerer to leap from her seat and stare at Thalia witlessly with bloodshot, sleep deprived eyes. It took a few moments before Eleanore was able to recognize her, but when she did the effect was immediate. Stomping up to Thalia, concern and anger warring in her expression, her approach was intense enough to cause trepidation in the exhausted Warden. An anxiety grew even in spite of the fact a tiny voice whispered how cute Eleanore was when she was upset.


    ¡°Where have you been?¡± Eleanore began, though she quickly changed tack when she saw what Thalia had in her arms. ¡°What in the gods¡¯ names is that?¡±


    Thalia wordlessly pushed the little person into Eleanore¡¯s arms, ignoring her sputtering protest. ¡°I don¡¯t know what it is, but it''s dying. I found it in the Wylde, following those two poachers from yesterday.¡±


    Thalia¡¯s exhaustion mounted as she watched her friend calculate how far away the enchanted forest was. Anger began to grow again on Eleanore¡¯s face, entirely replacing the concern there as she realized how dangerous Thalia¡¯s little trip had been, how isolated and at risk the Warden was out there. Seeing the oncoming tirade and deciding to cut it off, Thalia interjected.


    ¡°So, how do we save it?¡± Thalis blurted before Eleanore could blow up on her.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°W-what?¡± Eleanore stuttered, surprise cutting away at her wrath. ¡°Save it? I have no idea, I¡¯m not a doctor!¡±


    ¡°But you know magic right? I mean, your automatons run on it.¡± Thalia said desperately, getting the dreadful feeling she was grasping at straws.


    ¡°What does that have to do with this?¡± Eleanore cried, holding up the limp and lifeless form of the tiny humanoid helplessly.


    "That''s a creature of magic, isn¡¯t it? I was kind of hoping¡­¡± Thalia trailed off, hands gesticulating vaguely in a circle.


    ¡°It¡¯s an entirely separate thing to use enchantments to move metal and to heal the mortal wounds of a magical creature!¡± Eleanore protested. ¡°In fact, most wizards believe natural magic and magic mortal races practice are entirely different!¡±


    ¡°Magic is magic!¡± Thalia protested feebly. She was exhausted, both mentally and physically, and dirty, and regardless of how she felt about magic and mystical creatures she didn¡¯t want the poor thing to die, even if it couldn¡¯t help with the poacher. Feeling heat begin to build up behind her eyes, Thalia blinked rapidly to drive the tears away. Eleanore snapped back a reply, not yet sensing her friend¡¯s mood.


    ¡°The source is the same, but the structure of our two magic systems is completely different! There¡¯s no telling what would happen if I even tried¡­¡± Eleanore stopped as she saw Thalia¡¯s expression. Stepping forward, she reached her free hand forward and patted Thalia¡¯s head gently, having to get on her tiptoes to reach.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Thalia.¡± She stated, her voice calm and soothing. ¡°This isn¡¯t the time to be freaking out. Not for me, and not for you.¡± Thalia nodded, blinking back tears that were suddenly fighting even more ferociously to get out.


    ¡°Here¡¯s what we¡¯re going to do, Warden.¡± Eleanore stressed Thalia¡¯s position slightly, and the reminder of her rank and responsibility resonated with the Warden. She felt her back straight and her shoulders square, the tension in her brow smoothing. ¡°You¡¯re going to go report to Inquirer Reid. He¡¯s worried sick about you, but more than he should be able to get assistance from the royal mages. Hopefully they¡¯ll know a bit more about how to help this little guy.¡±


    Thalia swallowed, forcing down a painful lump in her throat she hadn¡¯t known was there, feeling a measure of calmness return to her. The long night and stress of keeping the creature alive had worn on her, but knowing she could count on Reid and the Warden¡¯s aid buoyed her. Even if she knew he was going to be less than happy with her, and she¡¯d likely be in for a stern lecture when this was all over. Thalia moved to leave but stopped abruptly, looking at the tiny human-like being in Eleanore¡¯s arms.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best to make sure he survives.¡± Eleanore reassured her. ¡°Now I know you¡¯re tired but if we¡¯re going to save him you have to go, and you have to go now.¡±


    As she said it, Eleanore ushered Thalia to the door, pushing the tired Warden by bumping Thalia with her hips. All the while Eleanore reassured the Warden she¡¯d watch after her charge as the Warden voiced concerns. With one final gentle-but-firm push from Eleanore she found herself standing on the street outside the workshop once again. Thalia hesitated for a moment before shrugging tiredly and breaking out into a loping run towards her office where she suspected Reid was waiting, stewing in his anger.


    ***


    Eleanore waited with bated breath as she listened through the door, only releasing it when she heard the rapid patter of Thalia¡¯s feet against the cobblestone street. She allowed herself a moment of relief, now she knew her friend was going to be alright, before the limp form in her arms twitched and moaned in pain. Suddenly, frightfully aware of the state of her new ward, she rushed back over to her workbench and made a rough cot for the creature to rest on out of an old overcoat she¡¯d left laying on the back of a chair.


    Deliberately setting the creature on its stomach so as not to agitate its wounds, Eleanore peeled back the makeshift bandage Thalia had used. Grimacing at the ghastly rents opened in the poor thing¡¯s back, she opened a drawer on her workbench and pulled out a few basic medical supplies she kept on hand in case of an accident with her work. Hoping the creature didn¡¯t have any odd, mystical, antagonistic relationships with basic first aid supplies, she used distilled water she had on hand to clean the wounds and a small swab of cotton hastily but securely wrapped around a dowel to make sure the wound was clear of debris.


    Satisfied she¡¯d cleaned the wounds as best she could, Eleanore found herself torn on how to proceed. Did she clean it with strong spirits and apply an ointment like she would her own wounds? There was a non-zero possibility the poor thing would react poorly to any treatment she attempted. The old tales told to children had numerous examples of magical creatures reacting poorly to iron, silver, and all sorts of materials. She was in the middle of her internal debate when a knock at her door shook her out of her deliberations.


    Eleanore had been rather engaged in her treatment of her patient, so she wasn¡¯t certain how long Thalia had been gone. Her gut told her the warden hadn¡¯t been gone long enough to inform Inquirer Reid, gather a wizard, and make it all the way home. Still, not a moment could be wasted in this situation so Eleanore sprung up from her perch on her stool and ran to the door of her workshop. She threw it open to find not only was it not her dear friend, or Inquirer Reid, or a wizard from the court, but rather an old crone she¡¯d never seen before. The wizened old woman had a kindly face and curly white hair pulled back into a bun, but her eyes were dark as night and colder than stone. Eleanore was struck by the understanding this was an old woman and so much more.


    Taking advantage of Eleanore¡¯s momentary hesitation, the elderly matron pushed past her and strode into the workshop, deceptively strong despite her apparent age. Eleanore shook herself out of her stupor and ran to catch up to the old woman, moving around her to stand in front of her and stop her advance, but the crone simply walked into Eleanore¡¯s chest and burst into smoke-like vapors. These vapors dragged across Eleanore¡¯s skin, cold and thick, circumventing her entirely. Eleanore turned around just in time to see the vapors coalesce back into the old woman, who continued walking as though nothing had happened. Eleanore opened her mouth to say something but found no words, following the woman cautiously. It was clear to Eleanore if the old woman meant her harm then there was little eleanore could do to stop her.


    The woman strode right up to the diminutive creature laying on the workbench before coming to a stop. To Eleanore¡¯s eyes it looked like the woman hesitated as her emotions overwhelmed her, her face filling with concern, worry, or perhaps even guilt. She reached out a trembling hand, fingers hovering just above the wounds Eleanore hadn¡¯t had the time to pack and bandage.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t, ah, do to him.¡± She said meekly, flinching as the old woman shot her a contemptuous glare.


    ¡°I know you didn¡¯t, fool.¡± She snarled. The crone took a deep breath then and closed her eyes. When she opened them and spoke again she was far more calm. ¡°My apologies. I thank you for what you¡¯ve done for my friend. Clearly you attempted to help him as best you knew how, but if we don¡¯t act soon he will die here.¡±


    ¡°You know how to save him?¡± Eleanore asked excitedly, and was gratified when the woman nodded. ¡°Is there anything I can do to help?¡±


    ¡°I think there is. My friend, Pug, is a fairy. Are you familiar with fairies?¡± She asked, continuing once Eleanore nodded her confirmation. ¡°Fairies are the essence of freedom, of whimsy. They¡¯re born to flutter from amusement to amusement, to glide above the earth and all of the terrestrial concerns associated with it. If you¡¯re familiar with fairies then you know they should have wings, and those wings are as crucial to their being as the heart.¡±


    ¡°But not your friend here?¡± Eleanore asked, curiosity getting the better of her. Thankfully the woman was lost in thought and simply nodded in response to her interruption.


    ¡°Pug here is a little special. He doesn¡¯t know it, but his blood helped preserve him, as did the waters of the Hearth. Nevertheless, he is still dying. His magic pours from the tears in his flesh like blood, its loss not stymied by the likes of salves and bandages. Without his magic he will soon fade away.¡± Sadness washed across the woman¡¯s face of such intensity and depth Eleanore¡¯s own heart ached to see it.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what I can do to help you or your friend. It¡¯s beyond my ability to regrow his wings.¡± Eleanore stammered.


    ¡°No, we won¡¯t grow him wings.¡± The matron laughed, chasing away her grief. ¡°You are far more comfortable with artifice, are you not?¡± Eleanore nodded, not entirely surprised this stranger would know . Her work was becoming rather famous, though she wondered how far word had traveled to reach the ear of a creature like this.


    ¡°Then find any wings you may have, miss artificer, and bring them to me. Even if they are of metal and human magicks, I can use them to grant my friend a stay of execution.¡± A look of grim determination took hold of the old woman, and Eleanore sprung away to do as she bid.


    A few minutes of rummaging about her bits and baubles and spare parts for her contraptions awarded her with a pair of wings. She¡¯d initially intended to use them to manufacture a flying tray to carry her tools for her as she worked. It was unfortunate that even with her skill at enchanting she was unable to make them fly, but it seemed the crone was confident in her ability to succeed where Eleanore had previously failed. She rushed back to the old woman, hesitating for a moment at a distance as she heard the old woman murmuring to the crippled fairy.


    ¡°Oh Pug, I¡¯m so sorry this had to happen to you. I¡¯m sorry for my part in leading you to it.¡± She said, whispered words full of pain. ¡°Even more, I¡¯m sorry for the pain and trials loom over your future. If you were to die here, as you ought, you would be spared these pains. I think, however, if you were given the choice you would choose to live. I¡¯ll do all I can to give your life back to you and pray I¡¯m not wrong.¡±


    Before Eleanore could digest what she¡¯d heard, the crone turned around and held out her hand. Eleanore scurried forward and set the wings in her palm and watched as her creations were scrutinized with a discerning eye. The wings were made of silver and modeled after the four wings of a dragonfly. The internal shape of the wings beyond the silver outline were a finely shaped filigree brought to mind creeping vines and thorns. This was all set to the backdrop of a thin membrane of paper, a luxury she¡¯d specially ordered for this project, was supposed to catch the air. The crone looked curiously at this membrane before tearing it away from each wing. When Eleanore cried out against the sudden vandalism the crone gave her an arch look.


    ¡°This will do nothing but fall apart in the first summer shower. Besides, he doesn''t need material there to catch the air. It''s magic.¡± The crone explained with a wink.


    The woman turned back to Pug and promptly shoved each wing into the gaping wounds in his back. The poor fairy groaned in pain even in his unconscious state, and Eleanore flinched in sympathy. The crone cupped her hands over the fairy¡¯s form and began a low chanting. A silvery glow began in her hands and drifted down in small motes, each shining and twinkling. Where they struck the wings, the fairy, and even the table they began to glow as well until the whole area was shining. This light grew in intensity, and the chanting grew in volume, until Eleanore¡¯s ears were ringing and her eyes watering with pain. Worse, a dull ache began to form behind her eyes, but still the human kept her eyes open and watched the ritual taking place. Her inquisitive and inventive nature reasoned that if she could learn from this her own magical working would benefit greatly.


    She privately doubted, however, the process would work. The wings were set in the wounds crookedly, and there were no joints or mechanisms to allow for articulation. Even if the gashes in the fairy healed he¡¯d just be left with two chunks of metal sticking out of his back. Eleanore wisely kept her mouth shut on this particular topic, understanding the woman in front of her was a being perhaps even more magical than the fairy on the table, and not an enemy Eleanore wanted to make. Only moments later the glow began to dim, and the crone stepped back from the work desk, breathing deeply.


    Despite her fear of the old woman, Eleanore¡¯s curiosity got the better of her and she scrambled forward to look at the result of the woman¡¯s work. To her amazement the previously crooked wings were now properly aligned and evenly spaced. Indeed, the two wounds were nothing more than scars, though each was shiny and metallic as though the silver of the wings had bled into them. The dragonfly wings protruded from these scars seamlessly, appearing to be as much a part of the whole of the fairy as its arms or legs. The wings twitched fitfully, as though getting settled into the new body they found themselves.


    Trembling with excitement, Eleanore turned to the crone to interrogate her on how such a thing was possible. For mortal races, magic had to be told exactly what to do. It would not have moved the wings and arranged them to be more anatomically similar to the true wings of a dragonfly. Eleanore wanted to know whether the crone had done all of this purposefully, or whether the magic had just followed this course naturally, like it had seemed to Eleanore. Unfortunately as Eleanore turned to ask her questions she saw she was unlikely to get any answers.


    The woman was once more turning into the same thick, dark vapor she had before. This time though, it seemed to be against her will. A grimace marred her kindly face, and her dark eyes were wide with strain as her body seemed to come apart before Eleanore¡¯s very eyes. Particles and bits seemed to be pulled away from the crone¡¯s form, turning into streams of dark mist made long ribbons to the door of the workshop. It looked for all the world like a great whirlwind was pulling the crone in, though Eleanore did not feel even a breeze. The whole event happened so quickly before she had a chance to register what was happening the old woman was gone, the last smoke-like tendrils that were proof of her existence being pulled through the cracks of the workshop door.


    Eleanore, at a loss for words, simply sat down heavily on her stool. She looked at the fairy on the top of her desk, now resting peacefully. Color had already returned to the creature¡¯s skin, and Eleanore felt confident he would survive. She just hoped he would be able to answer some questions about what, exactly, happened here.

 Chapter 18

    Lina couldn''t have known the journey she had been forced to undertake in the captive care of the two humans echoed the journey Jet had taken the day he disappeared. It was unfortunate for Lina, even if she didn¡¯t know it, the lazy Skullcap was once again in command at the gate, allowing the two villains to enter the city without any obstruction. Further, no interested Wardens or concerned parties happened to be passing by as they entered the gate, though humans slid into the nearest alley as quickly as they could. They skulked through back alleys on a long and circuitous route to the Merchant, keeping to themselves and shuffling away from anyone they passed. It was blatantly suspicious behavior, but the residents of the slums of Midburg had little time or energy to invest in engaging the two troublemakers, who had a less than sterling reputation even for the area.


    So Lina was tossed around, sick and nauseated by the constant motions of the bag they held her in, a bag that smelled vaguely of vomit. Worse, she was within a cage within the sack, and so many of the sudden turns and sharp jostling resulted in the poor gnome being bounced off the bars of the cage. By the time the humans arrived at their destination and finally slowed down, Lina had several bruises and small lacerations which did nothing to improve her mood. As the sack opened and bright light seared her eyes she resolved to at least bite one of the humans, just to get a little payback.


    Glaring angrily through squinted, watering eyes, Tourmaline tried to maintain her composure as she fell onto her rear. The humans hardly paid her any mind however, instead setting her down on a large wooden surface so firmly the gnome, who was just starting to stand again, was pitched over onto her face. Lina swore up a storm, rubbing at her poor nose which had suffered the worst of the fall, as she righted herself.


    Her string of gnomish curses and threats of harm, so vivid her mother would have blushed to hear them, died in her throat. Looming over her cage on the other side of the oaken expanse her cage was set upon was, unequivocally, the most beautiful being she had ever seen. And it was wrong, entirely and horrifically wrong. Lina¡¯s startled mind attempted to leap to the nearest comparisons she could draw to try and ground itself. The closest thing she could conceive of to compare it to was a magnificent sculpture made of teeth, or a historic portrait made with blood and fecal matter. The end result was undoubtedly and astonishingly beautiful, but the materials and processes made it caused the mouth to twist and bile to rise.


    Hollow eyes stared down at her from a deific face, crowning a small yet undoubtedly cruel smile. Lina felt herself begin to shiver, but couldn¡¯t look away. Her instincts screamed if she looked away from this predator then it would surely strike in that moment of weakness. She almost sagged with relief when the creature looked away from her, directing its awful gaze towards the shorter of the two humans. Lina saw the creature''s mouth contort with displeasure from the periphery of her vision as it addressed Gregor, and Lina knew the creature felt the humans were little more than garbage.


    ¡°One gnome? I sent you there to catch a hummingbird, isn¡¯t that right?¡± It asked, a saccharine sweetness dripping from its words. ¡°I was even so kind as to provide you with a net.¡±


    "That''s right, sir.¡± Gregor muttered darkly. His grudging attitude came as a shock to Lina, who couldn¡¯t imagine


    ¡°So, did this gnome happen to fly into the net instead?¡± Sarcasm edged in on its tone.


    ¡°Well we were standing a bit away when we heard a little bit of a commotion. We came back, thinking we might¡¯ve made our catch, and when we did we saw this little troublemaker and her friend tearing down your net!¡± Gregor pointed at Lina then, as though trying to redirect all the displeasure onto her.


    ¡°Her friend?¡± Its curiosity was clearly piqued. It inspected the cage, then looked at Thom expectantly. When the tall man shook his head it focused back on Gregor, eyes narrowed. Lina supposed this meant the short, fat human was the nominal leader of the duo.


    ¡°A fairy, with gross little wings. Dirt brown, they were.¡± Gregor clarified. ¡°We didn¡¯t catch one. Unfortunately Thom, the big oaf he is, hit it a little too hard while we were trying to save the net.¡± Gregor blamed his friend as easily as he breathed. Thom, appalled, clearly wanted to argue the point but his mouth snapped closed as the creature let out a low growl of frustration.


    ¡°Let me get this straight.¡± It began, grinding out each word through clenched teeth. ¡°I gave you two a tip on a special spot before any of the other Dust addicted scum I work with. I gave you a specially crafted net, at my own expense, mind you, and all I ask you for is one measly bird. Instead, you return to me with a gnome. I already had a gnome, one you brought me, if I remember correctly.¡±


    A part of Lina perked up when she heard . It looked like Baba was right, and being at the Hearth at the right time would lead them to Jet. Lina just wished the witch would have been more open about what catching up to Jet would entail. The image of Pug, face contorted with pain, as they tore off his wings flashed through her mind alongside the horrible tearing sound it made as the wings came free of muscle, sinew, and skin. Tourmaline wasn¡¯t sure she¡¯d have let Pug come along if she knew it was going to end like . She refocused on the conversation rather than let the rising tide of despair consume her.


    ¡°Even worse, you fail to capture either the fairy was there, or a hummingbird like you were told to. I suppose my net was damaged by the little vandals, which is why you didn¡¯t stay and capture one for me?¡±


    The creature was almost snarling by the end of its rant. It took a deep breath, which it let out slowly, and the twisted and contorted features began to slacken and return to a state of serene calmness. The bared teeth were hidden, and though the mouth hid them was not smiling, neither was it belying any rage or displeasure. Still, the two humans both looked suitably cowed. Or so Lina thought until Thom spoke out.


    ¡°We brought you fairies before! Other poachers too, I saw ¡®em in the cages.¡± He said defensively, gesturing to the shelves behind them.


    Tourmaline was shocked and appalled to realize the shelves were lined with cages much like her own, different in shape and size while function remained the same. Furtive eyes looked out at the exchange between wooden slats and metal bars. One creature, small even when compared to Pug or Lina, was in a cage clearly meant for a bird. The thin gray thing alighted on the perch a small songbird would have sat on in different circumstances. Lina noticed almost right away all the creatures held here, she could see at least, were on the smaller end of the spectrum as far as the inhabitants of the enchanted forest went.


    The largest thing she could see was a false dragon, a reptilian creature that looked just like its namesake, though a fraction of the size. This specimen was fully grown, almost ten feet long, though much of it was tail. Its enclosure was far too small though, and it curled in on itself almost twice over. The wings were pulled close to the false dragon¡¯s body, but even still they rubbed against the bars of its cage, rubbing patches of scales away and leaving raw and pink skin showing. Lina felt sympathy for the poor critter, but a long suffering sigh from the monster behind the counter drew her attention back to the threat at hand. Apparently the foul thing had finally mustered the will to respond to Thom¡¯s idiocy


    ¡°You have brought me fairies before, yes. However, every subspecies of fairy I know of are brightly colored, whether they have beautiful butterfly wings or iridescent wings like those of the mosquito hawk that lives around ponds and streams. I would¡¯ve liked to inspect this aberration.¡± The creature sighed disappointedly. Lina, on the other hand, nearly shook with rage to hear her friend called an aberration by the freak in front of her.


    ¡°No matter. I¡¯ll set about getting the net repaired. In any case, it''s time for your payment.¡±


    The creature pulled open a drawer on its desk then, and rummaged about inside. It pulled out a small pouch in short order, tossing it haphazardly at Gregor. The thick human had the courage to look insulted by the payment he received. His piggish eyes glittered dangerously as he looked up at the creature.


    ¡°This is half of what we usually get.¡± He growled, fists clenched so tightly the blood fled from his fingers and they turned deathly pale.


    ¡°And you brought me a third of what you had opportunity to catch, and less than what I asked for.¡± It replied, tone firm. The look in the being¡¯s eyes made it clear it would brook no further argument on the matter. ¡°Be grateful I¡¯m not giving this net to someone else. There are many who would jump at the opportunity to earn a little extra.¡±


    He gave the humans an arch look and waited silently. Seemingly satisfied when neither responded, he continued. ¡°Return to me in a few days, the net should be ready then. Oh,¡± The creature exclaimed, almost as an afterthought. ¡°Would you be so kind as to put the gnome on the shelf? There should be a spot free on the top shelf, near the door. I won¡¯t be needing another gnome for a while.¡±


    Thom wordlessly grabbed Lina¡¯s cage and moved to comply. Lina was secretly grateful for the lack of pushback on the humans¡¯ part. She¡¯d had about as much as she could stand of the monster¡¯s presence and wasn¡¯t interested in being caught in the middle of an argument. Thom silently shoved her cage into its place, which was between a wall and a very despondent looking ifrit. Behind him Lina could see Gregor stalking outside angrily, yanking open the door and letting a flood of sunlight in. Still, despite their obvious displeasure neither of them dared risk slamming the door to the shop, instead closing it gently behind them.


    Perhaps the humans are a little more wise than they look. Lina mused. She certainly wouldn¡¯t want to anger the creature, the one standing perfectly and unnaturally still behind the counter, not if she was in their shoes. The creature in question seemed to wait until it was sure they were gone before moving, writing a quick note in a small book it withdrew from beneath the counter. Once done it tossed the book back under the countertop and strode away, moving through a door to a room in the back of the building and then, by the sound of it, down a set of stairs and into the basement.


    Relieved the creature was gone, Lina turned to her new neighbor and tried to get his attention. She hissed at him and waved her arms through the bars of her cage, but the smoky little fiend paid her no mind. Though she didn¡¯t want to be too loud and draw the attention of the master of this foul place, she needed some form of contact in this moment. Thoughts of Pug and Jet, the latter of whom she¡¯d failed to locate on any of the shelves, were assaulting her and she needed to distract her.


    ¡°Hey, Ifrit!¡± She called out, too soft to be a yell but too loud to a conversational volume.


    Rumbling growls issued forth from the very air around her and, already fraught with tension, her composure broke as she squeaked with fear. Peering about, she saw a suspiciously dark shadow in the corner of the room by the door. Even as she watched more shadows seemed to be pulled into it from nearby, diminishing these little pools of darkness yet making the room no brighter in the process. Two glowing pools of red appeared in the midst of the shadows, and the inky black material pulled together into the shape of a dog. The thing was large, easily four feet long and three feet tall at the withers. Tourmaline recognized it immediately as a Black Dog, easily recognizable from the horror stories told around campfires by young gnomes all over the warren. She quickly pulled back from the bars of her cage, trying to put as much distance between herself and the Black Dog as she could. Satisfied she¡¯d settle down, the growls from the beast slowly subsided and though she could no longer see it she could feel the pressure of its malice dissipate as it once more melded into the shadows


    ¡°A bit smarter than your friend, aren¡¯t you?¡± A dry voice said, crackling like twigs on a fire. Lina looked at the ifrit in surprise, and the creature shrugged. ¡°Seemed like you weren¡¯t going to shut up until I spoke to you. You were going to get us all in trouble at that rate.¡±


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    ¡°Sorry about that. I just wanted to talk to someone. This has all been a bit... overwhelming for me. My name is Tourmaline, though you can call me Lina.¡± She said with false cheer, trying to be as positive as she could, though the ifrit just snorted and shook his head. Lina realized what he said, however, and her false cheer was washed away by real excitement. ¡°Wait, you said I was smarter than my friend!¡±


    A quick flash of shock flashed across the ifrit¡¯s face before he shut it down. He turned his back to her as though to end the conversation. Tourmaline pressed her face against the bars of her cage as though she could physically reach the ifrit and shake the answer free.


    ¡°Please, I¡¯ve been looking for my friend. He¡¯s another gnome like me, named Jet. You know him, don¡¯t you?¡± Lina pleaded, but the ifrit ignored her.


    ¡°Just tell me what happened to him? He¡¯s my oldest friend.¡± She begged.


    Her pleas fell on deaf ears, the ifrit firmly ignoring her now. Part of her, deep down, knew his unwillingness to answer her questions meant nothing good for Jet. Still, she couldn¡¯t know for certain until she confirmed it herself, and in any case only terrible things awaited her if she stayed here. All she could do for her friend was escape and confirm his condition herself. Thankfully the fool humans hadn¡¯t thought to search her or strip her of any of her gear, content to toss her into the cage as they found her. Sure they¡¯d taken care to make sure she left her more obvious weapons in the mud, but her pack was still on her back, hidden under her cloak to ward off unwanted prying. Even better, the monster hadn¡¯t inspected her too closely either, overwhelmed as he was with the incompetence on display by the two poachers he¡¯d hired out. In all the frustration and arguing and threatening, she¡¯d been placed on her shelf with every bit of her alchemical reagents still on her person.


    Lina already had a rough idea of how to get herself out of her cage, the worry being the additional variable of the Black Dog. As long as it was present it was likely any attempt at escape was doomed to fail from the start. She shook her head stubbornly, trying to knock free the pessimistic thoughts plaguing her. Perhaps if an opportunity arose she¡¯d get her chance to break out, and maybe spring a few more people besides. The taciturn ifrit was necessary for her escape plan, however. Lina resolved to whittle the fiery little spirit down and get his promise to help her, and perhaps some information about her erstwhile friend while she was at it.


    ***


    Thalia had to hustle to keep up with Inquirer Reid¡¯s long and hurried strides. Even the court wizard, one Rufus Magnolio, who was a good head taller than Reid, was breathing heavily as the unlikely trio ran to Eleanore¡¯s workshop. Even in the midst of a sprint, Reid still continued the admonishment he started when she first arrived at the old Warden¡¯s office this morning. This tirade had continued from the Wardens¡¯ headquarters to the palace, only temporarily halted as Reid slipped inside and quite literally dragged Rufus from his scrolls and tomes.


    By this point Thalia had begun to tune out Reid¡¯s rant. Not out of lack of respect, or boredom or anything of the sort. She was just exhausted from her long trek out to the forest and back. At this point every iota of energy she had was focused into remaining upright and not passing out mid stride. She understood Reid¡¯s point of view, filtered as it was through the haze of sleep deprivation and distraction.


    She realized as soon as she had walked into the office she was in for a world of hurt. Reid had opened up on her, convinced she¡¯d fled from his ire over her disobeying her mandated leave of absence. When she explained she had pursued the poachers, as ordered, the old Inquirer changed tack, continuing to chew her out for new and exciting reasons. Even barring just coming back and reporting to Reid they had left the city so they could set a watch, the Inquirer was more shocked and appalled she hadn¡¯t requisitioned a horse. Thalia felt stupid thinking back at that particular part of the lecture, the remembered emotions a pale imitation of how truly shortsighted and ignorant she had felt in the moment as she was lambasted in front of the other Wardens.


    In a desperate attempt to shift the focus of the conversation from herself, she mentioned the fairy she had saved thinking the good deed would buy her at least an ounce of leniency. It did stop Reid in his tracks for a moment, but the old fox¡¯s mind was as sharp as ever and he was perfectly capable of continuing a dressing down even as he planned their next steps. Ordering her to follow, he¡¯d set off for the palace to collect a wizard immediately. Speaking of the wizard, Thalia turned her attention onto the gangly, pale man.


    The wizard wasn¡¯t much to look at. In fact, if Lina passed him on the streets she wouldn¡¯t give him a second glance. Average looks and a bland, expressionless face were accentuated by the completely benign and non-threatening aura Rufus possessed. Even pulled from his studies and apparently completely uncertain what he could do to help the unfortunate fairy Reid was taking him to, Rufus was rather cheery. He made sure to wave to the people they passed, apologizing over his shoulder as they all but pushed people out of the way. He even smiled at Thalia reassuringly, even if the effect was somewhat mitigated by his overall lack of substance.


    Not Thalia felt she needed reassurance. Certainly the little creature was a witness and she¡¯d prefer if it survived, but she¡¯d set the expectation for herself the creature might not survive since she¡¯d first gathered it into her arms. There was precedent for mystical creatures to testify, so it would be nice to have it take the stand as a witness when trying the two poachers, however the wizard and Reid had both insinuated there were additional reasons to ensure the safety and well-being of the fairy. After a bit of pressure they¡¯d told her there was a treaty between the kingdom and the Wylde, though both clammed up when she pressed them for more details.


    Thalia was shaken from her thoughts as, in her exhaustion and distraction, she ran straight into the doorjamb of Eleanore¡¯s workshop door. Rubbing her aching shoulder, she was aware of Reid¡¯s telltale scowl deepening and the concerned glances of Rufus and Eleanore. The former she gave an apologetic glance, complete with wide puppy dog eyes which caused Reid to scoff and turn away. Thalia and her looked to Eleanore and her work desk, amazed to see a little humanoid sitting at the edge of the desk looking back at them curiously.


    ¡°I thought you said the fairy was dying.¡± Reid muttered. ¡°He looks well enough to me.¡± Before Thalia could respond Eleanore leapt in.


    ¡°He was dying. Luckily we were able to replace his wings, which were torn out, and seems to have stabilized him.¡±


    We? Thalia mouthed at her past Reid¡¯s back, but Eleanore couldn''t see her past the wizard, who she was introducing to their little visitor. Rufus had closed in on the fairy, uncomfortably close if the little creature''s expression was any way to tell. Watery brown eyes peered over bent and crooked spectacles as he poke and prodded at the fairy¡¯s new wings.


    ¡°You did this?¡± He asked, skepticism clear in his tone. For some reason his doubt in Eleanore got Thalia¡¯s hackles rising. The Warden tried to figure out why, but her overworked and sleep deprived brain refused to give her any hints.


    ¡°Not alone. A woman came into my workshop, though I don¡¯t think she was really a woman at all.¡± Eleanore stammered nervously, subconsciously tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as she fidgeted. ¡°She did some sort of ritual to get the wings in place. The wings themselves are spare parts for my automatons, but she seemed to think they would work just fine.¡±


    The wizard nodded as she explained and withdrew a small writing pad from a hidden pocket on the inside of his shirt. Rufus began to jot down notes and sketch out the fairy¡¯s wings, much to the little creature¡¯s discomfort. Sensing her part was done in this particular incident, Thalia crept over to her work station and sat down, using her arms as pillows on the desk as she laid down. Despite her exhaustion, sleep was slow to come, so she watched on with amusement as the wizard interrogated the fairy about his new wings. Much to Magnolio¡¯s dismay, most of the technical questions seemed to end up with the fairy or Pug, as he proclaimed proudly when Rufus asked for his name, simply not knowing.


    Before long Reid stepped in and questioned him, getting a description of the poachers and an account of what happened in the glad Thalia found him in. Pug was able to give clear descriptions of the two humans he encountered and advised them he had a friend, a gnome named Lina, who was kidnapped. Reid¡¯s stress level visibly increased when he heard another denizen of the enchanted forest had been harmed in this incident, teetering dangerously for a moment under the weight of this epiphany.


    ¡°I assure you, we will do everything we can to capture these two poachers and get your friend back. Any assistance you can offer would be more than acceptable, though I acknowledge we are in violation of the treaty and in no position to ask for your help.¡± Reid said solemnly, even shocking Thalia as he bent into a small bow.


    ¡°Treaty? What treaty?¡± Pug¡¯s face twisted as he raked his memories for any mention of a treaty. Apparently coming up short the fairy simply favored Reid with an inquisitive expression, much to Thalia¡¯s relief. An explanation finally coming, she propped her head on her hand and blinked the bleariness from her eyes. She jumped in surprise as Eleanore stepped up beside her and slid a cup of tea, which she seemed to have procured like magic even though Thalia knew it wasn¡¯t, into her hands. Thalia thanked her friend with a quick smile, which Eleanore reciprocated before taking a sip of her own tea. Together they focused on Reid as the Inquirer began to speak.


    ¡°I can understand humans not remembering the treaty any more, but a creature of the Wylde?¡± Reid grumbled, casting his irate faze about the workshop, receiving shrugged shoulders and unknowing stares in response from all but Rufus who nodded sagely. ¡°Well to make a long, bloody war short and palatable, to stop Wyldelife and boogeymen from kidnapping people, turning them into stone, trapping them inside of cursed paintings, and all other manner of magical mayhem our country agreed to set aside certain tracts of land for their use and we would not take any harmful action against the creatures living in those lands. The largest and most well known of these lands is the forest you went to last night, Thalia. The agreement was drawn up between the king at the time and the Queen of the Sidhe, who rules over the forest and all the creatures inside.¡±


    Reid paused for a moment to make sure he hadn¡¯t lost anyone. Rufus looked like he wanted to interject, likely to add further detail but Reid quieted the wizard with a quick shake of the head. Rufus frowned but didn¡¯t interrupt even though he was clearly dissatisfied.


    ¡°The agreement was far more complex than what we are able to discuss right now, of course.¡± Inquirer Reid said, mollifying the wizard with a soothing hand gesture. ¡°But the idea was we could defend ourselves from any creatures in our territory, which meant we didn¡¯t have to leave ourselves open to attack from the more nefarious beings. Likewise the Sidhe and their subjects could defend themselves if we trespassed and became aggressive with them. What happened to Pug and his friend is clearly a violation of the treaty, and if we don¡¯t resolve this soon the Sidhe could retaliate or seek punitive action through the treaty. We really don¡¯t want either of those things to happen, I guarantee you. Which is why I brought Magnolio here, to try and save your life.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d be more than happy to help you however I can. Even without the treaty, my friend is still somewhere in this city and I need to save her. We were also looking for another friend of ours who went missing, and I think he¡¯s here somewhere as well.¡± Pug said, standing though he was still quite shaky and weak. ¡°If need be I can fly about and search the city, see if I can¡¯t find the two humans who caught us.¡±


    As though he meant to demonstrate the little fairy beat his new wings rapidly. So rapidly it seemed to even take him by surprise, given the look on his face. The flying little man pirouetted and swooped, testing out his new wings before they suddenly froze mid-flight, sending him careening back into the desktop where he impacted with a tiny thud. His face twisted into a grimace as he pawed uselessly at his chest just above his heart. Everyone in the room lurched upright to get to the fairy, thoughts of this hitherto unknown treaty now at the forefront of their minds.


    Magnolia was the first to reach the fairy and whispered a few arcane syllables covered his hands in crackling corposant energy. He cupped the fairy with them, the energy wreathing his hands seeming to flow into the fairy like water to a sponge. Though no one else understood what he had done, the cantrip the wizard cast must have provided him with some sort of reassurance. Nodding sagely, the wizard turned back and addressed the rest of them with particular care given to Reid, who looked as though he was about to have a heart attack from stress.


    ¡°He¡¯s fine. It looks like he did a little too much too fast.¡± He assured them. ¡°I can¡¯t say for sure, but it looks like these new wings of his might not be as efficient as the ones he was born with. They¡¯re leeching a fair bit of his magic from him when he uses them to fly.¡±


    Eleanore bit her lip guiltily, clearly thinking her wings were at fault, but Rufus was quick to clear her conscience.


    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault, I think the person who healed him was more concerned with him surviving than how efficient his flying was. Give him a bit to sleep and recover and he¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Rufus had tried to cheer Eleanore up, however she still gnawed at her lip as regarded the unconscious fairy. Seeming to make up her mind, she began to rifle through various drawers and chests, putting together a small mat for him to rest on. Thalia almost went to help but was stopped by a firm grip on her shoulder. She looked behind her to see Reid, his stern expression letting her know she¡¯d better wake up and make damn sure to remember what he said next.


    ¡°As soon as the fairy is capable, I want you to help him find those poachers. Until you do, you don¡¯t need to worry about the Faerie Dust case.¡± Reid quickly raised his other hand to forestall her complaints. ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking and it''s not an excuse to get you away from the case. This is legitimately just as big of a concern, if not bigger. You¡¯re already involved and you¡¯ve seen the culprits, it makes little sense to put someone else on this matter.¡±


    Reid patted her shoulder and took a few steps to the workshop¡¯s door before pausing for a moment. Thalia looked at him curiously as he gave one last parting remark.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll be back to checking the archives for me in no time.¡±


    Staring after the chuckling Inquirer, Thalia decided it was time to take a page out of Pug¡¯s book and promptly used her desk as a bed.

 Chapter 19

    Pug sat with his head between his knees, fighting back the urge to vomit as he tried to calm his heart which was pounding as though he¡¯d run a mile. He tilted his head to regard his human host, Eleanore, as she returned with a shallow dish full of water. Pug managed to incline his head slightly in a gesture of gratitude before dragging himself to his feet and shambling over to the dish. He didn¡¯t begrudge the humans for not having any crockery suited for his size, though he did find it a little embarrassing to be lapping at the dish like an animal at a watering hole, scooping up handfuls of water greedily. The only positive he found with the situation was he could dunk his head into the saucer when he was done which went a long way to cooling him off. Thirst slaked and dripping wet, Pug sprawled out on his back and let out a deep sigh.


    ¡°I know what the wizard said, but what do you think?¡± Eleanore asked, lips pursed and brow slightly furrowed with concern. ¡°There wasn¡¯t anything wrong with the ritual was there?¡±


    Pug found the quirky little tinkerer adorable, reminding him of an upscaled Tourmaline, the resemblance sending a vicious pang through his heart each time he perceived it. Even though she¡¯d had little to do with his current situation aside from providing the materials she still endeavored to somehow feel guilty. In Pug¡¯s estimation she¡¯d saved his life, a fact the human seemed incapable of understanding


    ¡°Your wings are perfect, Lady Eleanore.¡± Pug reassured. ¡°Besides, if the person who performed the ritual is who I think they are, there¡¯s no way they made a mistake.


    ¡°She was under a bit of duress there towards the end.¡± Eleanore replied, an echo of misplaced guilt still haunting her words. ¡°Though maybe she prepared the ritual beforehand? I mean, she sent you into that situation with little warning.¡±


    Pug conceded to himself she did have a point, though he wasn¡¯t quite ready to admit aloud. Baba used her power of prophecy to direct them. Was it possible she didn¡¯t know what was going to happen to them in Hummingbird¡¯s Hearth? Pug shook off the musings he had no answers for, though he resolved to ask Baba some very hard questions when he got home. Realizing he had Eleanore watching him anxiously, he forced a smile for her.


    ¡°I think I just need to build some stamina and learn my limits with these new wings.¡± Pug gestured vaguely over his own shoulder, an awkward move pulled on his already strained back. Frowning slightly, the fairy continued. ¡°I¡¯m actually a good bit faster now, and far more maneuverable.¡±


    ¡°That makes sense, in an unexplainable, mystical kind of way.¡± Eleanore said pensively, clarifying her thought process as she saw Pug¡¯s confusion. ¡°Those wings are modeled after a dragonfly. In nature they¡¯re remarkably agile, capable of omni-directional flight.¡±


    ¡°I just wish I could use all the extra agility.¡± Pug groaned, ineffectually craning his head around to try and look at his own back and wings. Failing to set his eyes upon the source of his woes he settled on glaring down at his feet as he recuperated.


    Pug stood when he finally felt strong enough, though not entirely well enough to stop his legs from quivering under his own weight. Pursing his lips he stubbornly beat his wings at a slow, rhythmic pace, increasing the tempo gradually. Stopping himself just before he achieved lift-off, he closed his eyes and focused on his new wings. While he wasn¡¯t sure how, precisely, he could achieve this ¡®omni-directional flight¡¯ Eleanore spoke of, he needed every edge he could get so he was determined to figure it out. Perhaps it was fate, or a lucky accident, right as he settled into a nearly meditative trance Eleanore knocked something over on her desk.


    The clatter pierced his serene observation of his own body right as it began, his body flinching away instinctively while his conscious mind looked on. In moments he felt a muscle in his back move in a way it shouldn¡¯t have been capable of. Or perhaps it was a muscle he didn¡¯t know he had, or hadn¡¯t had until Baba healed him. This new muscle pulled at his top right wing in a way was disgustingly horizontal, adding sideways momentum sent him cartwheeling across the desk. A burst of stars clouded Pug¡¯s vision as the side of his head struck the top of the table beneath him, his prior upwards force suddenly working with gravity once he was upside down.


    Eleanore looked up from her dropped mechanism and stood to assist, but Pug forestalled her with a wave of his hand. She eyed him warily as he closed his eyes and once again turned his focus onto his wings, considering this development. Now he had a bead on this new muscle he was able to work it, finding its parallel above his upper left wing. Following how these new growths interacted with each other and his wings, he was able to sense a dense cluster of muscles. Tentatively investigating with his fingers where he could, he was shocked to find the musculature of his back had radically changed. These additions, placed above and below his wings, were soft to the touch but still distinct. Most disturbing of all, he hadn¡¯t even noticed the changes until he¡¯d gone looking for them, his body feeling deceptively mundane.


    ¡°Baba moved my muscles.¡± He frowned. ¡°Or grew new ones, I guess.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, moved your muscles?¡± She asked incredulously.


    ¡°You cued me into it.¡± Pug explained. ¡°These wings are different from my old ones, all the way down to their function. To make me capable of flight again she had to make me compatible with wings designed for a different style of flight. It makes sense, I technically have two more wings than I used to.¡±


    ¡°So you think she moved other muscles around? Wouldn¡¯t that leave you with deficits elsewhere?¡± Eleanore asked, leaning forward excitedly in her chair.


    ¡°I think she tried to grow as many new ones as she could, but she was in a bit of a rush. I think that¡¯s part of the reason why I¡¯m so exhausted when I try to fly.¡± Pug lost himself in thought for a moment before continuing, much more somber now. ¡°I¡¯m missing a lot of the strength I need to use them, and I¡¯m subconsciously using up all my magic to make up for it.¡±


    ¡°I hate to be the bearer of bad news but you shouldn¡¯t be able to fly without magic anyways.¡± Eleanore pointed out.


    ¡°All I know is, if a fairy damages their wings they have a harder time flying.¡± Pug shrugged.


    ¡°Maybe it''s psychological? Or do your wings act like a force multiplier for your magic? So if the system isn¡¯t in good shape, isn¡¯t efficient, you wind up burning through your magic faster?¡±


    Pug, curiosity piqued by something that Elanore said, began to ask her to expound on what she¡¯d just said when he was cut short by the workshop door opening. Inquirer Reid and Warden Thalia shuffled into the room, smiles breaking out across their faces when they saw him flying, even if he was only hovering an inch or two above the surface of the desk. Pug waved at them delicately, the act engaging his new muscles in an unforeseen way and causing him to wobble dangerously. Reid shuffled over, giving an appreciative grin and slow clap as Pug recovered without falling. He smothered his grin as he gave his report, the contents of which were less than ideal.


    ¡°Still no sign of the guys who took your friend. We have all of our Wardens keeping an eye out for them as they make their rounds, and we¡¯ve asked the Skullcaps to do the same.¡± Reid stated, a hint of frustration coloring his voice. ¡°Unfortunately Thalia is the only Warden who''s gotten a good look at them and she can¡¯t be everywhere.¡±


    ¡°They have me running across the city every time someone so much as sees an Islander or anyone acts even a little suspicious.¡± Thalia complained as she sat down, bending over to rub at her calves and pull off her shoes.


    ¡°I appreciate you doing so much to find my friend.¡± Pug said to Thalia, inclining his head in thanks.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, it¡¯s our job. Besides, this is twice now those guys have gotten away from me. It¡¯s started to get a little personal.¡± She half joked, shifting around restlessly as she pushed away her dissatisfaction.


    ¡°I think my endurance is only going to improve if I keep using my wings. If you¡¯d like, I can help you search.¡± Pug advised, allowing himself to fall to the ground as got a drink from the saucer beside him. Thalia and Reid exchanged an uncomfortable glance, which Pug caught. ¡°What? Am I not allowed to help look for my friends?:


    ¡°Technically no.¡± Reid said slowly. ¡°Legally, only officers of the law can work an investigation, unless we bring someone in as a consultant. It prevents any conflicts of interest and inappropriate handling of our cases.¡±


    ¡°Besides, the treaty with your Queen is in enough danger with the two missing gnomes we already have. Putting you in harm¡¯s way might not be the best thing for us politically, right?¡± Thalia mused, looking to Reid for confirmation.


    The Inquirer simply gave a weary nod of his head and wiped his hand over his face. Being reminded of the weight of what was at stake took its toll on him, even if it was only for a moment. Pug slumped a little, his motivation drying up a little at the revelation. Eleanore swatted at the two Wardens, gesturing at Pugs slump-shouldered posture. Reid tutted at the inventor, chuckling as she favored him with a withering glare.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what, if you get to the point you won¡¯t pass out while you¡¯re looking, I¡¯ll see about getting you signed on as a consultant. Sound fair?¡± Reid said with a small smile.


    ¡° sounds fair to me sir. As eager as I am to help, I don¡¯t think my friends would be too happy if I hurt myself looking for them.¡± He replied, gratitude welling in his chest.


    I¡¯ll try not to make any of you worry, either. He promised silently.


    Reid quickly said his goodbyes, burdened with far too much work to linger for long, and Thalia shuffled off to her room to sleep, allowing Pug to return to his own devices. With Eleanore¡¯s help he came up with an exercise routine that would hopefully help him build a little stamina. By the end of day Pug was able to fly around the room for a quarter of an hour without passing out and falling out of the air.


    The following day saw Pug¡¯s energy levels soar even higher, starting the day off with a flight that lasted for a whole twenty minutes, though he took it at a leisurely pace. Doing laps around the workshop rapidly got boring, however, and Pug was soon working in loops and dives, dodging obstacles and sharp turns. In the evening he was able to maintain his highest speed for ten minutes straight, and he could resume flying after taking only a short rest. Eleanore spent the day tinkering with a little construct in the shape of the man, smiling devilishly whenever Pug asked her what it was for.


    It turned out the automaton was a training instrument designed to run around the workshop and throw bits and bobs of debris at the fairy as he flew. The threat of being knocked from the sky by a tightly wadded ball of paper added urgency to the simple maneuvers he had been practicing. The first few throws he failed to dodge, stunned out of the air as his focus was wrenched from the delicate control of his new wings to the impact of the projectile. In a scant few hours he was able to dodge the majority of the projectiles and the ones that hit him were no longer guaranteed to down him.


    Thalia and Eleanore took dinner with him each evening rather than leave him alone, something Pug was incredibly grateful for. The three of them discussed how rapidly he was recovering, almost having fully regained his full flight capabilities in a matter of days. Pug confirmed for them the growth was unusual even for fairies. Children among his people were only able to flutter around just above the ground for a minute or two before they had to rest. Flight was something you had to work to learn and practice to get good at, like walking or swimming.


    ¡°Baba must have accounted for more than we thought.¡± Pug stated with a shrug.


    ¡°Is Baba really talented? To do so much in so little time?¡± Eleanore asked, more curious than doubtful. The tinkerer was keen to obtain any further information she could about the foreign magics she¡¯d seen that day.


    ¡°Baba¡¯s lived in the forest as long as I can remember, and just about everyone nearby visits her for one reason or another. Whether they¡¯re looking for advice or herbs and potions.¡± Pug said.


    ¡°She¡¯d have to be pretty powerful to live in the Wylde all by herself.¡± Thalia said past a mouthful of beef. Eleanore gave her a withering glare and Thalia hastily swallowed her food, taking a drink to wash it down before she continued. ¡°You thought she was human?¡±


    "That''s what it seemed like.¡± Pug mused. ¡°But based on what Eleanore said, might that not be the case?¡±


    ¡°The magic she did that day wasn¡¯t human, that¡¯s for sure. And she turned to smoke right after, which isn¡¯t something humans are known for.¡± Eleanore said wryly.


    She made it a point to swallow her food and dab the grease from her lips with a napkin before speaking. An act she made sure Thalia saw by staring at her pointedly as she did so. The warden simply gave her friend a sweet, incorrigible smile. Thalia very purposefully and loudly swallowed her own morsel before replying.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    ¡°I have some good news.¡± Thalia said brightly. ¡°After giving Reid a progress report, he¡¯s tentatively cleared you to help with the search. He still wants you to take it easy, he seems a little worried your sudden improvement was somehow too good to be true.¡±


    "That''s great!¡± Pug said excitedly, unconsciously fluttering his wings at the news. ¡°I just wish he wasn¡¯t so busy, I¡¯m sure he¡¯d feel better if he saw me in action. The little throwing machine Eleanore created hardly hits me anymore!¡±


    Pug puffed his chest out proudly, hands on his hips in what he considered a triumphant and heroic pose. The two humans covered their mouths and snickered at what they considered to be a tremendously cute, and not at all impressive, display. Luckily Pug paid them no mind, returning to eat his food with great gusto. All the humans who had seen him eat were compelled to ask him where it all went, an inquiry he could only answer with a shrug as he wolfed down his own body weight in food. He greatly enjoyed human cuisine and found himself preemptively mourning the fact he would have to say goodbye to it when he returned home.


    ¡°Yes well, incidents with Faerie Dust users have been increasing lately and he¡¯s at the point he needs whatever results he can get coming out of his jurisdiction.¡± Thalia explained somberly, mirth leaving her tone.


    ¡°I wish we weren¡¯t associated with this menace.¡± Pug grumbled. ¡°Fairies aren¡¯t particularly dusty or anything.¡±


    Thalia snorted, shaking her head at Pug¡¯s complaints before turning the conversation to lighter topics. She slyly suggested that Eleanore manufacture a second throwing machine, leaving Pug sputtering for excuses about how such a thing wasn¡¯t necessary and he was recovering just fine as it was. The three of them continued to laugh and joke, the conversation turning from the myriad of stressors and crises looming over them. They split apart relatively early, Thalia and Pug exhausted by long hours of work. Thalia departed for her room while Pug climbed into a wooden box, the bottom covered in layers and layers of padding. Thalia had teased it looked like the type of contraption one brought a stray kitten home in, but Pug found it astoundingly comfortable regardless of her teasing. He fell asleep face down in the bundled up cloth, his silver wings sticking straight up in the air.


    ***


    Pug often wondered if, perhaps, he was a little unlucky. Not so much as to be a walking disaster, but he¡¯d found that, in general, if he were to let fate take its course he would generally wind up on the bad end of any given deal. His father often told him ¡®failing to prepare was preparing to fail,¡¯ and advice had gone a long way to ameliorate his natural tendency towards ill fortune. It was particularly unfortunate he had no way to prepare for the task of searching for his missing friends.


    It was surprising, then, he¡¯d found his targets only on the second day of looking. So incredibly implausible was this stroke of good fortune the fairy spent a half hour sitting back on his haunches regarding the pair. First he thought he might have made a mistake, then he thought perhaps this was all part of an elaborate trap. It took a focused effort to persuade his paranoid side that the two kidnappers had no reason to suspect he was even still alive, much less hunting them through their home turf.


    Perhaps being able to search from the air was the advantage that had allowed him to find his quarry. He was able to cover much more ground, far quicker than the earthbound humans. Additionally, the Wardens were unfamiliar with and unwelcome in the slums. He¡¯d followed the ragged and worn looking duo from shady looking drug den to the bar, from the bar to a soup kitchen ran by a kindly old priest, and from the kitchen to the streets of the city proper, where they promptly knelt and began to beg from anyone who passed even remotely close to them, booze still on their breath and eyes dilated madly.


    Pug decided these two, drunk and high on the street in the middle of the afternoon, probably weren¡¯t setting a trap. It was the question of how to process that had him stumped. He couldn¡¯t exactly apprehend the two of them himself. He could go get Thalia or Reid, but these two had been moving from place to place constantly and he worried he wouldn¡¯t be able to locate them again if he left. Now would be just his luck.


    A rumbling purr grew into a yowl right behind him, and Pug turned his head to see a large black tomcat stalking up to him. His nerves thrummed as he regarded the feline, who was worn and scarred from a tough existence on the streets. Instincts creamed at him to flee, however Pug suspected it would do little good for him to try it. The beast outweighed him, all sinewy muscle and lean danger from years living on the street. It hadn''t needed to make its presence known to him either, so perhaps some sort of deal could be had.


    ¡°Hello friend, do you think you could help a fella out?¡± Pug asked cheerily, stilling his thrumming heart as the tom hissed back at him. The beast only had one eye, the other a mass of scars only partly hidden by the stripes of its gray and black fur.


    ¡°Listen here, I don¡¯t need any of your sass alright? I have a job for you, if you¡¯ll take it, would have a hearty reward. Elsewise you can shove off, or I can fly off if you¡¯re going to try and make a meal of me.¡± Pug chided the cat. In response it scoffed at him before sitting down.


    ¡°And what could a creature like you hope to offer me that would be more appetizing to me in this moment than you yourself?¡± The cat replied before leaning forward on his front paws and pushing his rear end back and up, stretching while he yawned widely. Pug didn¡¯t miss the fact the cat¡¯s lips pulled back to reveal its viciously sharp fangs.


    ¡°How about an introduction? My name is Pug, a fairy. And you are?¡± Pug inquired.


    ¡°Ah, yes. I suppose you wouldn¡¯t know of me, being new here and whatnot. My name is Bartleby, King of the Cats.¡± Bartleby mewed back, mischievous glint alight in his eye.


    ¡°You¡¯re the king of the cats?¡± Pug asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.


    ¡°Sure, why not?¡± The cat smiled, a grim and dangerous thing.


    ¡°Alright your Majesty, would you be willing to help a poor commoner like me?¡± Pug asked drolly.


    ¡°Of course, as King I suppose I must help you, no? Noblesse Oblige, and all .¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re so gracious, Majesty.¡± Pug replied dryly. ¡°Do you know Warden Thalia?¡±


    ¡°Of course I know her. I know everyone in my kingdom.¡±


    ¡°Uh huh. Well, would you be so kind as to bring her over here for me? I¡¯ll make sure she gets you a tasty fish for your trouble.¡±


    ¡°And how am I supposed to bring a human over here? I¡¯ll certainly not talk to the beast.¡± The cat said, disdain dripping from his words.


    ¡°Well I dunno your Majesty, I''m just a commoner. I wouldn¡¯t dare direct you as though I knew better than your esteemed highness.¡± Pug couldn¡¯t help but snipe at the feline.


    ¡°Quite.¡± The cat narrowed his eyes at him. ¡°Very well, I will endeavor to bring this Thalia here immediately. Be prepared for her when I do.¡±


    Bartleby stalked away without another word, dismissively ignoring Pug¡¯s waved goodbye. The fairy gave an exasperated sigh, deciding it was worth the annoyance if the cat managed to bring the Wardens. He kept an eye on the criminals, but Thom and Gregor seemed quite content to remain begging in the gutter. Pug couldn¡¯t help but overhear them from his perch and he found himself forced to pay attention to their conversation with little else to distract him.


    ¡°Damn misers, they¡¯re not sparing us so much as a glance!¡± Gregor scowled at a passing woman who, in response, picked up her skirt and all but ran away from the grimy addict.


    ¡°We need another job Gregor. I can¡¯t live like this.¡± Thom was all but sobbing at this point. The look Gregor gave him actually took Pug aback, causing the fairy to reel back from the unbridled malice and disgust in Gregor¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°I know . You don¡¯t need to keep telling me, do you?¡± Gregor leaned into Thom, teeth bared. Thom shrunk away from him, shielding his face against his shoulder.


    ¡°N-no, I¡¯m sorry. Of course you know.¡±


    ¡°In any case, the merchant hasn¡¯t called for us yet.¡± Gregor scowled. ¡°And you know we can¡¯t come to him.


    Pug¡¯s heart leapt as he realized they were probably talking about the same individual they¡¯d mentioned on the night they took Tourmaline. He almost fell off his perch as he leaned in to listen further, however the two grew sullen and silent at the mention of their patron. Or so he thought. Instead, the two of them were focused on something on the ground before them. At some point, without them or Pug seeing exactly when it happened, a pouch had been dropped on the ground in front of them. A pouch drooped open slightly and released a small trickle of shimmering powder.


    ¡°G-gregor, is -¡± Thom began but was cut off as Gregor pushed him back in an effort to propel himself forward.


    Just before the portly man was able to snatch up the pouch a gray-black blur leapt in front of him and scooped it in its mouth. Turning to look at Gregor and Thom with disdain, the cat held in its mouth the pouch and what looked to be a piece of paper. It¡¯s one golden eye flicked up to Pug before it took off down the street in a flash.


    ¡°Bartleby?¡± Pug cried in confusion, though thankfully his voice was drowned out by Thom¡¯s screech of anguish.


    ¡°Catch it Gregor! That filthy stray stole the Dust!¡± Thom cried as he scrambled past Gregor, who was popping up onto his feet after falling face-first into the street when Bartleby snatched the pouch.


    The two shot after the cat, surprisingly fast given their poor health and weakened state. Pug, likewise, took to the air after them, wondering what Bartleby was doing. This certainly wasn¡¯t what Pug had planned. Thankfully the cat made no attempt to truly outpace them, nor did it try to lose Gregor and Thom by going into some small nook or cranny the humans couldn¡¯t fit into. Instead it led them down streets by just barely outpacing the criminals, the pair of them shoving people aside in their desperation to catch the cat, and Bartleby seeming to have a grand time sowing so much mischief.


    It was only due to his position in the air Pug was able to see the cat''s grand design. Block by block he was leading them into the more populated and well policed areas of the city. In fact, it looked like if Bartleby got his way he would lead them right to the Warden¡¯s headquarters. Indeed, the two addled men followed the clever creature right to the last place they wanted to be, taking a hard turn that sent Gregor stumbling, knocking several people over in front of the station.


    At the same moment, Pug saw Thalia come around the corner in front of them. For a moment he was astonished by the sheer peculiarity of this coincidence, though he realized Bartleby must have arranged for her to be here. Indeed, Thalia completely ignored the two criminals she¡¯d been spending days hunting and instead honed in on the cat. Seeing the paper in the feline¡¯s mouth, Thalia went beet red, a snarl twisting her face as she charged right towards Bartleby. The clever tomcat leapt to the side at precisely the right moment, however, and she went crashing into Thom and Gregor right as Thom stopped to pick his friend up off the cobblestones. All three went down in a tangle of limbs and muttered curses.


    The wardens in their headquarters were drawn outside by the cries of outrage and swearing as Thalia and the pedestrians knocked over by Gregor made their displeasure known. As they rushed outside to see what caused all the commotion, Bartleby simply leapt up a series of ledges and overhangs until he was atop the roof of the building adjacent to Pug, overlooking the debacle. The wardens were pulling the tangled bodies apart and Thalia,looking upon the people she¡¯d tripped over in her efforts to secure her prize, gave a surprised cry and promptly arrested the two miscreants.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Pug asked, panting with exhaustion as he set down beside the cat. Bartleby responded by placing the pouch and piece of paper at his feet before speaking.


    ¡°I brought her to them, didn¡¯t I?¡± Bartleby purred, smugly licking his front paw.


    ¡°Sure, but why did you bother bringing them here too? Seems like a lot of moving parts to a plan like .¡±


    ¡°So it would seem, however, I actually had them meet in the middle. Warden Thalia was across town when you sent me to find her.


    ¡°You went from the slums, across the city, got her attention, simultaneously attracting Thom and Gregor¡¯s attention? Somehow knowing precisely what they wanted and where to get it?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Bartleby licked his paw demurely. ¡°I led them precisely where I needed them to be, right when I needed them to be there.¡±


    ¡°That would imply you were in two places simultaneously.¡± Pug pointed out.


    ¡°So it would seem.¡± Bartleby cooed smugly. The cat turned away from Pug then, flicking his tail at the fairy dismissively as he did so.


    ¡°Hey wait, don¡¯t you want to stick around for the fish I promised?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d prefer not to. The Warden was quite angry that I stole paper from her. If I were you I¡¯d give it back as soon as you can.¡±


    ¡°So angry you¡¯d skip out on a tasty fish?¡± Pug grinned


    ¡°I suppose so¡­¡± Bartleby said, turning back to regard Pug over his shoulder with his one good eye. In moments he was fading into smoky transparency before Pug¡¯s very eyes, leaving only one glowing golden eye hovering midair before it closed, literally winking out of existence.


    ¡°King of the cats.¡± Pug muttered. ¡°Just like dad warned, cats are weird.¡±


    Deciding the mysterious cat wasn¡¯t worth the trouble, Pug shrugged. Grabbing the pouch and the paper Bartleby had left behind, Pug stepped off of the roof and glided down to Thalia. The pouch was a little heavy, dragging him down with enough force he had to beat his wings ferociously to stay aloft. He landed on Thalia¡¯s shoulder with a gasp, breath shaken from his body by the intensity of the impact. Thalia turned to look at him, eyes fixated on the slip of paper he held.


    ¡°You! How did you get that? Was damn cat your idea?¡±


    ¡°That cat? Never seen him before in my life. Lucky he brought you here though.¡± Pug said, hardly trying to make himself sound believable. Thalia grimaced and snatched the paper from his hands, nearly pulling the fairy off his feet. Pug had to wonder what was so important about the paper she took it over the pouch full of drugs in his possession, but felt it wise not to ask.


    ¡°Did you read it?¡± Thalia said sullenly.


    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t have the chance.¡± Pug answered honestly. She believed him this time, crumpling the paper up and stuffing it into her pocket. ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°So we caught them. What now?¡± Pug asked, attempting to direct the conversation away from what appeared to be a sensitive topic. .


    ¡°Now we have to interrogate them until they tell us where your friend is.¡± Thalia said, sighing as she sized the two criminals up. She was likely wondering just how hard they¡¯d be to break.


    ¡°Excellent.¡± Pug said with a sinister grin, clearly expecting a dank, dismal gaol and hooded torturers plying their craft. It seemed the fairy had come from a world where interrogations were far removed from what the Wardens of Midburg believed an interrogation to be. It was only a matter of time before he would find himself severely disappointed, his imagined torments crumbling before the relentless, glacial advance was the Warden¡¯s interrogation technique as they seemingly attempted to bore the criminals into spilling their secrets.

 Chapter 20

    Thalia kept her head down, her eyes locked onto the floor to prevent herself from meeting Inquirer Reid¡¯s gaze. The ill-tempered veteran was currently in a heated, yet still whispered, argument with two Skullcaps, who had taken the prisoner she had detained into their custody a few hours beforehand. It oddly reminded Thalia of being a little girl, when her parents would have veiled arguments with barbed words and harsh tones hidden behind a facade of civility meant to shield their daughter. This wasn¡¯t the first time Reid had tried to get past the guards who were keeping them out of the old watch-house that served as the Skullcap¡¯s headquarters. Each time he had been rebuffed with discourtesy bordering on outright insult and a growing air of hostility.


    Indeed, the seizure of the two prisoners had almost come to blows with the Skullcaps all but outright threatening the Wardens on the scene, whom they vastly outnumbered. It nearly gave Reid an apoplexy, seeing as Wardens as an institution technically outranked every man and woman in the city guard. Reid had issued message after message to the various offices of the Ministry of Law, the body oversaw the Wardens and the city guard and the enactment of the legislation both groups enforced, and to various nobles sympathetic to the Wardens. Thalia and her fellow Wardens were sweaty and sore from pelting back and forth across the city, yet no matter where they turned they were stonewalled. Some nobles even went so far as to refuse to meet with the Wardens, speaking through intermediaries or firmly shut and secured doors.


    With no end to the perplexing situation in sight, Thalia felt hard-pressed to keep her spirits up. Pug had already become severely disenfranchised with it all, settling into a morose slump atop a nearby crate. The sound of hurried footsteps drew both of their attention, and the pair were elated to see Eleanore scurrying towards them, nodding to the Wardens and ducking her head to avoid the half-lidded stares from the Skullcaps. She and Reid exchanged a brief nod though the Inquirer didn¡¯t miss a beat, continuing to spit venom unrelentingly at the Skullcaps.


    ¡°Hey.¡± Eleanore said with a small wave.


    She looked a little nervous, which was perfectly understandable. This was rapidly turning into a standoff between the only two law enforcement agencies in the city. In fact, Thalia hadn¡¯t seen a normal pedestrian or civilian in hours, the citizenry canny enough to sense something was going on. She felt a pit begin to open up in her stomach as nebulous worry began to crept up on her. Almost instinctively Thalia moved to take a defensive posture around Eleanore, giving her shorter friend a reassuring smile as Eleanore regarded her with uncertainty.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been hearing rumors going around saying the Wardens and the Skullcaps were at each other¡¯s throats. Hadn¡¯t realized how true it was.¡± Eleanore nodded towards Reid. She let the silence hang, clearly intending to let Thalia vent if they needed to.


    ¡°They took our suspects off of us as soon as we detained them. They don¡¯t have power, not without some sort of documentation from the courts or the Ministry of Law.¡± Thalia explained, her voice more venomous than she expected.


    Apparently I needed to vent a little after all. She thought with a rueful smile and a shake of her head.


    ¡°Worse,¡± She continued. ¡°We were so outnumbered, Reid had no choice but to turn them over. As insane as it sounds, we almost broke out into open conflict with them.¡±


    ¡°We could¡¯ve taken them.¡± Pug groaned. ¡°We should have fought them off.¡±


    ¡°Even if they¡¯re in the wrong, it sets a bad precedent to fight them in public. Both institution¡¯s reputation with the citizenry would have been ruined.¡± Thalia repeated for what felt like the thousandth time. Eleanore gave a little giggle as Pug let out another groan fraught with agonizing boredom and angst.


    ¡°The most frustrating part is we¡¯re getting rebuffed everywhere we turn. The few nobles actually meet with us are hardly any help, talking in circles incessantly.¡± Thalia finished explaining, some of her anger relieved by venting on her friend.


    ¡°Well that¡¯s very unfortunate.¡± Eleanor frowned at the lingering Skullcaps, the guards completely oblivious to the tiny woman¡¯s disfavor. ¡°In better news, I have a little something for you.¡±


    The inventor gave Pug a little jab with her index finger, which for the fairy was more like getting sucker-punched in the solar plexus. The fairy involuntarily let out a puff of air and wrapped his arms around his stomach. He collapsed onto his rear and eyed Eleanore sullenly, his glare growing particularly pointed as she smiled, completely oblivious to his discomfort.


    ¡°What is it?¡± He wheezed, crawling back to his feet.


    Eleanore excitedly withdrew a small wrapped object from a satchel she had strapped to her side. Shrouded in what appeared to be a kerchief, she was not able to tell what the item was other than it was long, thin, and cylindrical. With a wordless cry of exultation Eleanore yanked the cloth away from the item. The beauty and craftsmanship of the object took her breath away, and from the periphery of her vision she could see Pug was equally dumbstruck. Held in Eleanore¡¯s hands was a masterfully created work of art, a spear of dark iron. The solid shaft of metal was inlaid with intricately twisted lines of silver interspersed with simplistic flower buds. It produced the visual effect not unlike that of vines crawling up a trellis, with all the vines coming together at the tip to fully wreath it in silver.


    ¡°You made it in the few hours we¡¯ve been waiting here?¡± Pug said, awestruck.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been stress tinkering.¡± Eleanore said defensively. ¡°I already had a lot of the material handy.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± Pug grunted absently, managing to voice his skepticism even as he leaned in closer to inspect the piece, entirely enraptured. So invested was he in admiring the weapon he let out a mewling, wordless cry of complaint as Eleanore began to withdraw it.


    ¡°If you¡¯re not happy to have it, I had the perfect little automaton I could put this on.¡± Eleanore teased.


    ¡°No!¡± Pug wrapped the spear in his arms like he was hugging it, which did little to stop Eleanore from lifting the spear and him along with it. ¡°It¡¯s just so beautiful! I¡¯m surprised you can make something like this so quickly.¡±


    "That''s more like it.¡± Eleanore smugly set the spear, fairy attached, on the crate. Pug went straight back into gazing at the weapon adoringly. As Eleanore turned to look at her, Thalia put an aggrieved expression on her face.


    ¡°And nothing for me? Your best and only friend?¡± She pouted.


    ¡°Shush you. I¡¯ll make you something very nice once this is all settled.¡± Eleanore knocked her shoulder into Thalia¡¯s as she stood next to her friend, earning herself a jab from Thalia¡¯s elbow in response. Eleanore frowned, a thought seeming to occur to her. ¡°You¡¯re not my only friend.¡±


    Thalia laughed as her friend shoved her in irritation and the trio returned to silence broken by intermittent conversation and the occasional murmured jest. The eccentric little tinkerer had lifted the mood, Pug¡¯s flagging spirits bolstered by the gift, and Thalia simply glad to have her friend by her side. Her presence had an effect that managed to persist and soothe even in the face of Reid¡¯s stormfront-like approach. The thin veneer of control did little to hide the Inquirer¡¯s frustration or exhaustion, though the tightness around his eyes softened somewhat as he regarded the trio, particularly Pug¡¯s child-like wonder and fascination with his new weapon.


    Taking a deep breath and looking around, Reid seemed to decide there was little to be accomplished by having every Warden under his command lingering in the street. He began to send Wardens home, thanking each of them quietly. Thalia was heartened by how many of her allies wanted to stay and support the Inquirer, though it took little argument from Reid to convince them to leave. Everyone was dead on their feet, and few protested more than once or twice. Still, when it came her turn to be relieved, Thalia hesitated.


    ¡°What about you sir? Surely you¡¯re not going to stay here?¡± She asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m staying. I don¡¯t know if they¡¯re being truthful or not, but they said they expected an update from the Captain of the Guard soon.¡± Reid sat with his back to the wall, leaning into its support. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles hanging under them in thick crescents.


    ¡°Then if it''s alright with you sir, I¡¯ll stay for a little longer.¡± Thalia said, standing firm as Reid eyed her irritably.


    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re the most invested person here.¡± Reid mused. ¡°Suit yourself Warden. I just don¡¯t want to hear any complaints tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m off tomorrow sir.¡± Thalia arched her brow.


    ¡°Not if we get our prisoners you¡¯re not.¡± Reid said, laughing at Thalia¡¯s scowl.


    Thalia let out a long suffering sigh, though it was mostly in jest. She¡¯d be glad to end this little sideshow and get back to her investigation as soon as she could. The poachers had consumed far too much of the Warden¡¯s time and attention, leaving the Faerie Dust case idling. Reid settled in to rest, his eyes half closed as he entered into something akin to a meditative state. Feeling the late hour, the evening chill, and her own fatigue Thalia slumped down into a seated position next to Eleanore, her back against the wall of what appeared to be a tailor¡¯s shop catered particularly to dress uniforms for the Guard. She stared at the front doors to the Skullcaps offices, fighting to keep her eyes open. Thalia hardly noticed as she slumped over and began to lean against Eleanore, using her shorter friend as a support.


    An indeterminate amount of time passed before the sound of doors being thrown open and her name being harshly whispered, in conjunction with a sharp jab in her side roused her. She was unsure if she slept or if the wait wasn¡¯t as long as she¡¯d thought it would be, but the Warden clambered to her feet and moved to stand beside Inquirer Reid. They watched as a procession of people trickled out of the guardhouse in a stream, Eleanore sidling up behind her to poke Thalia in the side once again.


    ¡°I think you drooled in my hair!¡± Ah, so she had fallen asleep.


    Before she was able to assuage Eleanore¡¯s displeasure, Thalia was frozen in place as the last two people departed the building, easily recognizable even though all could be seen of them at first were their silhouettes against the brightly lit interior. The first was Simon Linz, Captain of the Guard and commanding officer over all the Skullcaps in the city. His presence alone would not have been surprising, given it was their guard house. Annoying perhaps, as they had been told repeatedly he was unavailable and not in the building, but not shocking. But alongside him was Inspector General Totterheim, the highest ranking Warden in the city, and the person their team had sought out most ferociously as their primary hope of getting their prisoners returned to them. Thalia shot a glance at Inquirer Reid, but her senior Warden was just as shocked as she was.


    ¡°General Totterheim, sir?¡± Reid called out hesitantly. The General looked around lazily before his gaze settled on their little group. He leaned into Captain Linz and muttered something, which got a laugh and a large smile out of the man, before turning and striding over to them.


    ¡°Ah Reid, I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here. I have something for you.¡±


    The general rooted around in his pockets, apparently searching for whatever it was he had to hand off. Thalia took the brief moment to inspect the man, having only ever seen him once, at a great distance, when she was sworn into the Wardens. The Inspector General spent the rest of his time at his office in the Ministry of Law. His job there was, as Thalia understood it, purely political and had little bearing on the average Warden¡¯s day to day. As with most high profile jobs required intense politicking to attain, it seemed to pay well given how opulently the man was dressed. Some poor furred animal had been slaughtered to make his scarf, and his jacket was a fine dark leather with burnished golden buttons gleaming in the fast fading light. As he checked the inner pockets of his coat, she could see the clothes beneath his jacket were riotous colors and Thalia knew, despite not being as fashion-aware as Eleanore, this man was dressed for mingling with nobility. Deep-set eyes glittered dully about a bulbous and red nose, and his mouth was completely hidden by his bushy gray mustache. He wore a fancy little cap, from under which little gray curls poked out. He ought to have looked like a nice old man, but Thalia felt there was something cold and hungry in his aspect. As though his shoulders bent under the weight of some dark ambition.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Ah, here we are.¡± Totterheim presented a slip of paper pulled from his breast pocket, pressing it into Reid¡¯s hands. ¡°Now, I don¡¯t know where all your subordinates went, but you¡¯ll want to round them up. Lazy buggers.¡±


    ¡°Sir?¡± Reid prompted, bristling at the insult to the Wardens.


    ¡°That paper there has the location where they get the Faerie Dust.¡± Totterheim said in passing, distracted with the buttons on his coat. ¡°Your little friend¡¯s¡­ friend, should be there too.¡±


    ¡°Pardon me sir, what was that?¡± Reid exclaimed, simultaneously bringing the hand with the paper in close, as though he worried someone would snatch it away.


    "That''s where they go to buy the Dust. You know, the thing I¡¯ve been having you investigating? It also, luckily, happens to be the place kidnaps mystical creatures.¡± The general finished buttoning up his jacket, and gave himself a little pat down, as though checking his work. Satisfied, he flashed Reid a smile. ¡°Apparently they were told to bring creatures in and they would be given Faerie Dust in return.¡±


    Reid sputtered before giving a dumbfounded, ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know Reid, but I do look forward to reading about it in your report. Which you¡¯ll write once you get back from arresting the dealer, this guy they call the Merchant, tonight.¡±


    ¡°Tonight!?¡± Reid protested


    ¡°Well, you don¡¯t have to write the report tonight, it is late. However, I am ordering you to strike the building tonight. We don¡¯t want him to catch wind we¡¯re onto him, now we''ve caught his lackeys.¡±


    ¡°Sir, if you would be so kind, how did you get this information?¡± Reid said, each word clipped and terse with frustration and the tense sort of bewilderment of a man who¡¯d been duped and would slip into anger as soon as he figured out the trick.


    ¡°From his lackeys, which you arrested. I just said that, Reid.¡± Totterheim said slowly, as though speaking to a child. Behind him Captain Linz gave a dry laugh, though he studiously avoided the searing glares of Reid and Thalia, attempting to pretend as though he saw something hilarious on the ground.


    ¡°I apologize sir, this is all just moving a little fast for me.¡± Reid explained through gritted teeth. ¡°If you would be so kind, why were our prisoners taken from us? Why were the Skullcaps allowed to interrogate them? And if time was so sensitive, why were we not brought in on this before now? We¡¯ve been out here for hours trying to get in contact with you, or anyone else who could enlighten us on the situation.¡± Reid fumed, before adding a belated, ¡°Sir.¡±


    ¡°You know how this goes, Reid, you were just the victim of bureaucratic mismanagement. I got it all smoothed out, I got you your lead. Now you just need to follow it.¡± Inspector General Totterheim turned and strode away, seemingly fine with ending the conversation there. Inquirer Reid was not so inclined.


    ¡°We were all but threatened to hand those men to the Guard, despite this being our jurisdiction.¡± Reid protested. ¡°This isn¡¯t over, sir, the Guard has too much to answer for!¡±


    ¡°Yes, Inquirer, it is over.¡± Totterheim caught up to Linz and the two resumed their conversation, quickly disappearing down the street and into the long shadows of the encroaching shadows surrounded by lackeys and sycophants.


    ¡°What the hell was that?¡± Thalia exclaimed. Eleanore put her hand on Thalia¡¯s arm reassuringly, but it did little to calm her anger.


    ¡°Warden.¡± Reid cut in calmly. His tone was benign, but a heat lingered in his eyes. ¡°Go gather the rest of the investigation unit.¡±


    He regarded the paper he had been given, crumpled and wrinkled in his clenched fist.


    ¡°Apparently, we have a bust.¡±


    ***


    The ifrit across the way looked on with poorly feigned disinterest as Lina rummaged through her alchemical supplies. Pouches, sachets of herbs, and small vials of reagents were pulled out and analyzed before being tossed back into her pack. Occasionally she would set something particularly interesting aside, such as this cluster of metallic fungus. Once she was satisfied with her little pile of ingredients, the last thing she removed from her pack was a small and worn trowel.


    Taking the trowel, Tourmaline approached the bars of her enclosure, a few of which were rusty, grimy, and deteriorated. It seemed like whoever had procured the cage had felt little need to maintain it, though what meant for its previous occupant she did not know. Part of her felt she ought to be offended at the poor state of the device enclosing her, however she quickly remembered the cage wasn¡¯t truly what was keeping her here. Deliberately turning her thoughts from the cursed hound and the ink black shadows it lurked in, she set about her task once more. Even if the cage wasn¡¯t the primary line of containment, she still needed to overcome it to escape. Steadying herself with a deep breath, she scraped the rusted bar with the edge of the trowel, cupping her free hand below the worn tool.


    In her eagerness she worked far more vigorously than she ought to have, drawing too much attention to herself. At first it was just her nearest neighbors, who hardly had the presence of mind to worry about what someone else was up to. Those who did have the wherewithal to look on did so with dead eyes, staring glassily through half-closed lids. It would have been fortunate had they been the only neighbors she had to worry about, but they were not. A low rumble and abrupt movement compelled Lina to pause, the Black Dog stalking through the aisles and tilting its head side to side as it hunted for the source of the noise. Keenly disinterested in being made, Tourmaline stepped back from the bar she was working on.


    Pulling back into the shadows of her confines she held her breath in anticipation,dreading the moment the cursed beast bayed and alerted its master. The soft patter of its footfalls persisted for many moments as it strode back and forth, though it appeared to be unable to find the source of the noise disturbed it. Giving a dissatisfied little chuff, it slunk back to its corner and flowed into the shadows like it was of the same material, though its eyes remained glittering in the darkness.


    After several more minutes of waiting silently, until the Dog¡¯s eyes shut and their dark glimmering ceased, Lina resumed her work, more slowly and quietly this time. Before long she had amassed a sizable mound of rust and other detritus in her hand. She hoped the filth wouldn¡¯t compromise her mixture, though she did her best to sort out the worst of the contaminants. Once she had the rust as clean and pure as she thought she was going to get it, she placed it in a pile next to her other ingredients before resuming her work. She only had to interrupt herself one more time on account of the Black Dog, though this time it was simply going about its usual rounds and didn¡¯t seem to be alerted to her activities.


    After essentially cleaning her entire cage, Lina took the rust she had gathered and added in her alchemical ingredients which included the shiny metallic fungus and metallic powder from her pack. Kneading it all together, she added a vial of clear liquid would work to soften the materials, allowing them to become soft and malleable like clay. Soon her mixture had homogenized into a brownish red paste. She was technically not supposed to expose her skin directly to the liquid she had added, which was technically an acid, but this wasn¡¯t her lab and she had no gloves here. She simply had to be mindful not to touch her eyes or any other sensitive areas, and to hope her skin could handle the abuse for a little longer.


    Taking a small handful of the paste she had made, she smeared it across the back side of the locking mechanism holding her cage door closed, wrapping some of it over the top until she felt certain she¡¯d applied enough. As she stepped back to regard her handiwork she caught her neighbor, the ifrit, looking at the pile of paste she left on the floor of her cage, obviously curious. Seeing she had his interest, she grabbed another handful of the paste and shaped it into a ball. Glancing around to be sure no one saw, she underhand tossed the paste into the ifrit¡¯s cell, where it rolled awkwardly, one side flattened from the impact of its landing. The ifrit arched an eyebrow, looking from the brownish puck she¡¯d tossed him, to her, and back. He crawled over and picked it up tentatively, analyzing the material, though he made no move to put it on the lock to his cage as she had.


    ¡°What is this?¡± He inquired archly. Upon giving it a sniff he scrunched his nose and looked likely to toss the goop out of his cage entirely.


    ¡°It''s our escape plan. All you need to do is get it on your lock, and when we get our chance you light it up with your fire magic.¡± Lina said excitedly.


    ¡°And it''ll do what? Dissolve the metal?¡±


    ¡°It will melt through it, actually.¡± Tourmaline corrected.


    ¡°Uh huh. And the Black Dog won¡¯t notice?¡± Skepticism dripped from the ifrit¡¯s tone


    ¡°Well the idea is to wait until we have an opportunity to use it. So the beast will be distracted.¡± Tourmaline explained patiently.


    ¡°Listen little gnome, I¡¯ve been here for quite a while. We don¡¯t get opportunities in this place. Even if the Merchant is in his workshop in the basement, out of the shop entirely, Dog is always here. It¡¯s always watching us.¡± Fatalism clung to his words like a dark shadow as he spoke, slumping back into seated position with his back to Lina.


    ¡°It¡¯s better than doing nothing isn¡¯t it? If we never get the chance, then that¡¯s fine. But I¡¯d hate to have a shot and not use it because we weren¡¯t prepared.¡±


    Tourmaline thought she hadn¡¯t gotten through to him, but after a moment of deliberation the coal black ifrit stood again and approached the lock to his cage. He applied the paste, mimicking what he had seen Lina do earlier. Once he had used all of his paste he returned to his seat. Feeling an opportunity to make a connection, Lina spoke again.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d give in quickly. I thought I¡¯d have to spend a few days convincing you.¡± She flashed a tight smile at his back.


    ¡°That¡¯s precisely why I did it now. I didn¡¯t want you badgering me every day until that lunatic takes me to his workshop and kills me.¡±


    "That''s a bit gloomy. I¡¯m telling you ifrit, we¡¯re getting out of here.¡± Lina said, half to convince herself.


    ¡°Eschen.¡± The ifrit muttered. Taking her silence for confusion he elaborated. ¡°My name is Eschen.¡±


    ¡°Doesn''t that mean ash?¡± Lina pondered aloud.


    ¡°Well what¡¯s your name then, gnome?¡± He cracked back, irate.


    ¡°...Tourmaline.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that a rock?¡± He said flatly. Tourmaline shook her head and grinned. Naming conventions among mystical creatures seemed to be universal.


    ¡°Alright alright, I get it. Just be ready for our opportunity Eschen. It¡¯l be closer than you think.¡± Tourmaline said, hoping her optimism wasn¡¯t misplaced.


    ¡°Whatever you say Tourmaline.¡±


    ***


    Each Warden on the Dust investigation was present and accounted for. Some were blearily blinking sleep from their eyes, and more than one had been drinking when they were rounded up, but they were all here. Pug perched on her shoulder with his spear in hand, tapping his fingers in sequence on the haft in a nervous tic. All eyes were on the storefront Totterheim had directed them to.


    Reid was talking to the court wizard attached to the Wardens, probably double checking to make sure the magical defenses on the building were actually going to come down before they accidentally fried themselves running into them. While it wasn¡¯t uncommon for gangs and the like to employ a hedgewitch or conjurer, the quality of the wards on the store was disturbingly high. The wizard had already called in a few others to help him pull it down, preserving some of his energy so he wasn¡¯t insensate when they actually breached the building.


    ¡°Alright people, gather round.¡± Reid whispered, waving at a few of the Wardens too far to hear.


    ¡°The wizards say they can bring the arcane defenses down shortly. Alphonse, I want you on point when it happens.¡± Reid continued, addressing the large Warden directly. Alphonse was a mountain of a man and the primary doorkicker in the squad.


    ¡°How will we know when the wards are down? I want to be extra sure this time. My toes are still tingly from last time.¡± Alphonse said slowly, turning to look at the Caimon, the wizard.


    ¡°Look, no one expected a second layer of wards! Besides, you¡¯ll see these wards coming down. There¡¯s enough power in them to blow your foot clean off, let alone make your toes tingle.¡± Caimon replied, doing little to relieve Alphonse of the doubtful expression on his face.


    Alphonse certainly wasn¡¯t thrilled with the idea of losing a foot, but before he could say anything the other wizards advised they were ready to start with a flurry of whispered words and quick hand signals. Half of the wardens lined up on either side of the front door, while the other half circled to the back. After giving the second group a one hundred count to get into position, Reid signaled the wizards. There was a chorus of arcane chanting and a sudden crack. Light flashed, blinding Thalia as coruscating energy flickered up and down the walls of the building. As the last of the flickering bolts of power faded, Alphonse planted his foot solidly in the middle of the door.


    There was the sound of splintering wood and then a body was pushing at Thalia¡¯s back, and she was pushing at the back of the person in front of her. The entire team of Wardens bulled into the shop, and from what Thalia could hear the back door of the shop was experiencing a similar event. Thalia stopped as she cleared the doorway, suddenly struck by a sense of familiarity. She had been in this shop before, seen these shelves and these aisles. But where nothing had been amiss before, now there were cages upon cages full of creatures. Things looked like tiny people, a lizard with eight legs, a pile of rocks in the vague shape of a bull, so many magical and unnatural beings stacked on top of each other in one place.


    A twinge of pain flashed through her mind as the memory she had of this store roared to the forefront of her thoughts. For a brief moment the world spun as the idea of what was tried to overlay itself over what is. Clearly the enchantment on this place had been strong, if the mere memory it made still tried to deceive her. Unfortunately the momentary distraction was not without cost, and a large black shape barreled into Alphonse, carrying the large man into the darkness of the unlit room with a cry of surprise and the sound of vicious snarling.


    At the very same moment a door to the back rooms of the building flew open, and the Merchant stood there. His eyes were alight with rage and power, a sickly yellow-white light also shone in his outstretched hand. As bolts of sick light leapt towards them, Caimon stepped forward, speaking words of power and erecting a shimmering half sphere of force in front of the Wardens. Before the bolts impacted Thalia swore she saw a flicker of sparks and something catch flame on one of the shelves, but suddenly found herself with greater concerns as one of the bolts of light the Merchant had thrown slipped past Caimon¡¯s shield before it fully deployed. The bolt caught her on the shoulder and she felt her entire arm go numb as she was flung through the air, twisting as she flew back out the door, taking the last Warden entering the shop in the stomach, sending both of them back into the night.

 Chapter 21

    Lina shot upright as the door to the storefront flew inward, slamming against the wall with a resounding crash as it was thrown on its hinges. Before she could fully process what was happening the lock to her cage flared into brilliant light and an acrid stench singed her nostrils.


    Even though Eschen had acted disinterested in her escape plan, the ifrit had been ready to fulfill his role in the operation. Lina stumbled to the door of her cage and pushed it open in a spray of molten iron and sparks, only to be knocked over as the entire shelf jumped with the force of an impact.


    Crawling forward on her hands and knees Lina leaned out of her cage over the edge of the shelf, looking down at a large human being pinned underneath the Black Dog. His arms were raised in front of his face, desperately trying to stop the creature from savaging him. Tourmaline wished she could help the poor man, but she had other goals and there was frightful little she could do against such a monster. Instead she ran to Eschen¡¯s cage, helping the diminutive flame sprite through the slagged opening to his cell.The ifrit staggered weakly past the smoking remnants of the lock and paused when his eyes fell on the Dog. More humans were pouring into the shop under a withering assault of magical energy, their spherical ward flashing and popping as it fended off the attacks.


    Lina pulled Eschen along behind her, staggering over to the next cage on their shelf. Its occupant, a spider the size of a house cat, frightened Tourmaline. The gnome¡¯s hands shook as they worked the latch on the cage door. Eschen shook her shoulder in an effort to get her attention, however she¡¯d finally freed the latch from whatever rust or contact weld held it closed and pulled the door open. She stepped back to allow its occupant through, however the arachnid cowered further into the cage instead. Its black orb-like eyes shimmered from the shadows as Eschen¡¯s efforts to grab her attention intensified. Eleanore turned to snap at him only to find Eschen wasn¡¯t looking at her at all but staring into the shop floor, his expression wracked by horror.


    Following his gaze Lina saw the Merchant in all his monstrous glory, wreathed in a pale glow twisted about his frame in thick vine-like cords. The same cables of energy crawled along the floor and up the shelves nearest to the merchant. When they touched someone, either the invading humans or the creatures trapped in their cages, their victim would crumple like a puppet with its strings cut. They didn¡¯t cry out even as their visages twisted in pain, instead only whimpering weakly as the power began to subsume them. The spider, likely realizing it had even odds of being assaulted by the tendrils of foul, sickly power if it stayed in its cage, scuttled past them and up into the shadows near the ceiling. Tourmaline pulled Eschen from where he looked on, enraptured by the horror of the Merchant¡¯s display and pushed him towards the next cage on the shelf.


    Eschen stopped her only moments later, stepping in front of her as a figure touched down on the shelf in front of them. The ifrit glowered at the newcomer, but Lina¡¯s heart soared as she recognized the man in front of them. She rushed forward, pushing past Eschen and slamming into Pug¡¯s chest, rocking him backwards. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tightly, the fairy grunting as his thin bones bent under the pressure. Still, he hugged her back, pressing his face into the top of her head. The moment couldn¡¯t last for long among all the chaos and as they broke away from each other her hands brushed something cold and metallic.


    Peering around his back curiously, a rising tide of miserable guilt forced its way from where it boiled in her gut to her throat. Memory flashed to the sickening tearing sound his flesh had made as they pulled him apart. Even as she gaped in awe at his new wings she couldn¡¯t help but mourn his loss. He¡¯d be disfigured in the eyes of his peers, even more so than he had been before. The delicate silver filigree was interwoven with eddying currents of prismatic magic that allowed her friend to fly, making him look as though he flew on wings crafted from the auroras of the night sky. It was beautiful, mesmerizing, and wholly unnatural, last fact being the key fact in the eyes of many fairies. Pug caught her staring and, correctly inferring her awe and wonder, smiled smugly.


    ¡°Are you just going to stand there and ogle me? I¡¯m more than my wings, you know.¡± Pug laughed, dodging away from her as slapped at him. ¡°Is that how you say hello to a friend who came back from the dead?¡±


    ¡°It''s strange, people in the stories usually don¡¯t come back from the dead prettier than before.¡± Lina flicked one of his wings to demonstrate, causing it to hum momentarily like a tuning fork.


    ¡°Did you just call me pretty?¡± He said, batting his eyes at her.


    ¡°I said you were prettier. You¡¯re still ugly for a fairy.¡± Lina stuck her tongue out at him as he faked a pout, her heart lighter than it had been in days upon seeing her friend again


    ¡°I don¡¯t mean to interrupt, but perhaps we should move along?¡± Eschen piped up from behind her, gesturing at the chaos unfolding on the shop floor below.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, this isn¡¯t the place for a reunion. We need to free as many prisoners as we can.¡± Tourmaline sobered, mirth drying as she remembered their still desperate situation. Pug stepped around her as she considered their next move, greeting Eschen.


    Tourmaline let out a half-hearted grunt of annoyance as Pug tousled her hair, eyeing the fairy as he held out his hand to the ifrit. The ifrit regarded the outstretched limb in confusion for a moment before tentatively reaching out and grasping the fairy¡¯s hand. He held it uncertainly as Pug shook their joined hands up and down, and gave a confused smile as Pug broke the handshake.


    ¡°I¡¯m Pug, a friend of Tourmaline and a fairy, despite the wings.¡± Pug said cheerily.


    ¡°My name is Eschen. The gnome pressured me into helping her escape. I am an ifrit.¡± Eschen replied bluntly


    ¡°I take it you haven¡¯t found Jet yet?¡± Pug asked Tourmaline, tense with concern.


    ¡°No, I haven¡¯t seen him since I got here.¡± Lina said quietly.


    A thin film of tears obscured her vision for a moment, but she wiped them away before they could fall. Eschen looked away awkwardly, shuffling his feet, which Pug saw but didn¡¯t comment on, though the fairy narrowed his eyes at him. He suspected Tourmaline knew the ifrit knew more than he was letting on, but was afraid to press him. Perhaps deep down she worried about what he had to say.


    ¡°I¡¯d love to help you guys free these people, but the Warden¡¯s are entirely unprepared to fight the Dog.¡± Pug walked to the edge of the shelf, ready to drop into the void below.


    ¡°Between the Dog and the Merchant the humans aren¡¯t going to last long.¡± Eschen reasoned. ¡°We ought to rescue as many of our own as we can and flee. We can bring this to the Queen, she has the strength to deal with this monster.¡±


    ¡°The Merchant would be long gone with everyone we failed to rescue by then.¡± Tourmaline said quietly.


    ¡°I have friends down there.¡± Pug said, and Tourmaline knew he¡¯d go to fight no matter what she said. ¡°You two focus on getting as many people out as you can.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡± Tourmaline hoped she sounded confident, her voice didn¡¯t betray how viciously rapid her heart was beating. ¡°You just keep Dog from barking.¡±


    Pug gave her a quick nod and a trademark mischief ridden grin before stepping off the shelf and into thin air. Tourmaline hustled over to the next cage, whispering reassuring words to the occupant as she fiddled with the lock. She couldn¡¯t help but notice Eschen refused to meet her gaze, guilt writ large across his face. She favored the ifrit with a sharp kick to the shin and, once she had his attention, tilted her head at another cage. Whatever he knew, it didn¡¯t change the fact they had to save as many people as they could. Jet would never forgive her if she, in her haste to learn of his whereabouts and his fate, ignored the plight of those right in front of her.


    ***


    A lump grew in Pug¡¯s throat as he soared away from his friend. Parting from her so soon after finding her again tore at his heart, however he worried if he didn¡¯t help the wardens none of them would make it out of here. Caimon was doing everything he could to hold off the magical assault by the creature allegedly owned the store, a being called the Merchant, though Pug felt naming convention might be a little on the nose. However, left no one with any particular supernatural expertise to hand the Black Dog. Alphonse was still wrestling with the thing, his arms bleeding from where the beast had savaged him as he held it off. The foul beast had already broken free from the warden once, pouncing on another warden and bringing the poor man down. While Alphonse pulled it off of his comrade as quickly as possible, the fallen Warden hadn¡¯t stood back up. Alphonse hadn¡¯t let the beast free since, his expression one of grim determination.


    Every now and again a bolt or writhing feeler of pallid and sickly energy would break through or slip past the shield Caimon was maintaining and strike someone. Sometimes it was a glancing blow and a yelp of pain, but others were brought low, squirming and cramping with pain. Pug had been thrown free from his perch on Thalia¡¯s shoulder when she¡¯d been hit, the impact, not blunted by Caimon¡¯s wards, throwing her straight back outside. He had left his friend outside in the dirt of the street, gasping for air through the pain. He¡¯d been forced to leave her in the care of the second wizard who remained outside. There was little he could do for her now besides end the fight as soon as he could. Pug didn¡¯t see Reid either and the fairy was forced to hope the Inquirer was alright and taking command of the situation.


    Pug drew back his wings and dropped, weaving between stray shreds of energy floated through the air like sullen thunderclouds. Aiming himself with the barest of twitches, he dove at the Black Dog where it sat on Alphonse¡¯s chest. The burly Warden¡¯s strength was failing and the monster''s maw was opened wide as it struggled to get its jaws around his throat. It was, therefore, entirely unprepared for Pug as the fairy slammed his booted foot into its eye. A deceptively pathetic yelp sounded as the creature flinched away from him. Pug grit his teeth and thrust his spear into its ear to anchor himself in place and give the beast little room to resume its assault on the beleaguered Alphonse. The hound shook its head viciously in a simple but effective attempt to dislodge him.


    His teeth clacked closed as he was jerked to the side, his arms shot through with searing pain as he was pulled along after the beast. Alfonse shook his head to clear his vision, eyes going wide in incredulity as he saw Pug where he clung to his spear. The Dog, distracted as it was by Pug¡¯s persistent attempts to kick it in the eye as he was flung about, didn¡¯t realize Alphonse had gone on the offensive. Most people would have had a difficult time managing an effective blow from the floor, laying on their back after being ruthlessly savaged. Alphonse, a mountain of a man, didn¡¯t have that issue. He belted out a vicious right hook and caught the monster on its jaw. The blow caught the creature entirely unawares, snapping its head to the side and into one of the many shelves lining the store. Heavy as it was, the Dog jostled several cages from where they perched when it impacted. The enclosures fell with their occupants still inside, screaming as they crashed onto the three combatants where they remained entangled with each other. Several cages burst open, their occupants scattering to the winds as they fled the chaos. An empty crate clipped Pug, his spear tearing through the Dog¡¯s ear as he was sent to the floor.


    Another, full of a misty yet oddly thick and viscous gas, landed on the Dog¡¯s back where it got pinned between the dog and the shelf. The gas inside congealed into a blob, the vague impression of faces appearing in its glistening surface as though creatures were trapped inside and pushing against its outer membrane in a desperate attempt to escape. Hollow eyes and shadowed mouths opened wide, and a muted keening could be heard. The bars of the cage, which had been carved with runes to keep whatever it was inside, had bent and allowed, if not total escape, at least some interaction with the world outside its cage. The silhouetted faces pushed out and into the Black Dog¡¯s smokey fur. The Dog yelped again and attempted to pull away, but the creature in the cage had latched onto it and was carried along as the Dog tried to escape.


    The Dog, deciding discretion was the better part of valor, scurried away. Alphonse was still struggling to his feet, the blood he¡¯d lost leaving him faint and weak. Pug stabbed out with his spear in an effort to slow the beast and scored a light hit against its back left paw, earning himself a vicious kick to the chest for his trouble. Knocked back against the cage that had fallen on him, Pug took the moment to unlatch the cage and free the captive. The being inside, some sort of chimeric combination between a toad and a hare. It wriggled its nose and flicked its ear in thanks before hopping away.


    Alphonse finally pulled himself to his feet and Pug flew up to perch on his shoulder. Pug was forced to brace against the sweat-slicked skin of his neck as the human¡¯s chest heaved with his panting breaths. The pair of them regarded the Black Dog with no small amount of concern as a low rumbling began in its chest. Its coal red eyes flicked across the storefront and assessed the situation. Apparently deciding the situation was untenable it opened its slavering jaws wide and issued forth a mournful howl. Its intensity caused Pug¡¯s bones to vibrate, an echo of e haunting noise reverberating throughout the building. Waves of sound set teeth to rattling and cages jittering wildly against the wooden platforms they sat upon.


    A lull emerged in the fighting as people recovered from an assault was, at the same time, sonic, mental, and spiritual. Even the foul man-like Merchant, wreathed as he was in dark power, paused for a moment and placed a hand on his chest as though checking his heart still beat in his breast. Pug remembered the stories his father had told him and while he¡¯d like to believe his father was simply trying to scare a recalcitrant child it was entirely possible the myths were true. If so, this dread baying would spell their end soon enough. Alphonse, seemingly in agreement about how urgent the situation was, traded his blackjack for a wickedly sharp shortsword he withdrew from a sheath on his hip.


    Alphonse stalked forward with Pug on his shoulder, stymied momentarily as the hound bayed again. Pug¡¯s heart leapt as he realized one more howl would mean their end. An immense rush of relief coursed through him as the Dog¡¯s howl ended in a pained yelp, a massive spider having scurried out of the shadows to sink its fangs into the Dog¡¯s flank. With the fell sound no longer chilling his heart or deadening his legs Alphonse charged forward. The spider, as well as the ghostly gelatinous thing in the cage, continued to assail the Dog even as Alphonse plunged his shortsword into it. Alphonse was so intensely focused on stopping the Dog¡¯s third howl he hardly seemed to notice his dark new allies. Foul black ichor and gray meat reeked of the grave flew free of the creature as the trio indulged in the butchery of their foe.


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    Pug fluttered his wings and flew a short distance away, landing on a shelf just outside the reach of the carnage. The fairy took in his surroundings, looking for opportunities to assist as he stretched his back to alleviate the fatigue had built up after his flying today. It didn¡¯t seem as if the Dog would be doing anymore of its wretched barking and he didn¡¯t think there was much he could do to aid the very capable beings attending to its destruction. Instead it appeared as though Caimon was beginning to falter dangerously. More bolts of energy seemed to get through his shield than be stopped by it, and the wizard¡¯s clothes were tattered and singed by a multitude of near misses. Those few Wardens still in the building hid almost directly behind the wizard now. Their faces were grimly set, and many of them looked to be the victims of glancing strikes and burns themselves.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to help the others! Whatever you do, don¡¯t let that thing bark again!¡± Pug cried to Alphonse, but the human didn¡¯t seem to hear. His eyes were wide open and dilated with fear and his lips were pulled back from his teeth in a fierce snarl, though Pug couldn¡¯t say if it was knowledge of what the third bark would do or simple instinct had enraptured the Warden.


    Pug zipped off, flying low to the ground and as close to the shelves as he could. He didn¡¯t like his odds if the dark wizard saw him approaching and endeavored to stay out of sight as long as he could. Occasionally he had to weave between fallen cages, their occupants reaching between the bars though whether they sought succor or savagery was unclear. Whatever the case, he had little time to spare and did his level best to stay beyond their reach. He mollified his growing guilt by promising to free them once they¡¯d won.


    This worked until he came around a fallen shelving unit to find a wisp attempting to burn a helpless myconid. Pug banked his wings and dropped, tumbling along the ground as the wisp turned and fired a ball of flame roughly where he would have been had he stayed the course. He came out of his tumble into a roll, coming to his feet within a spear¡¯s length of the wisp. He lashed out at it, the iron in the spear nicking the entity, which appeared as a ball of white flame with blue tips. Even without a mouth, or lungs, it made a sound Pug assumed was not unlike a scream of pain, of cracking logs and fat burning on the pan, before fleeing the source of its pain. Running on, a quick glance at the myconid told Pug if it was alive, it would not be for long.


    Many of these creatures are little more than wild beasts, even if they are magical. I hope Tourmaline is taking care when releasing them. Pug thought, a grimace working its way across his face.


    Shaking the thought from his head the fairy set off in a run, leaving the horrific scene - and the vague guilt of failing to save the myconid - behind him. He covered the last stretch of his journey quickly even though he ran rather than fly, coming to a stop behind the last bit of concealment between him and the Merchant. Pug peeked around his cover, a broken floorboard was torn up by the impact of some stray bolt of magic and left standing nearly straight up out of the floor. The Merchant wasn¡¯t looking his way however he was certain the fell thing would notice him soon enough if he tarried. He was only going to get one shot at this before he made himself a target to the monster and he was going to give it everything he had.


    Ducking back behind the board, Pug pressed his back to the wood and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath the fairy began to tune out the sounds around him, the crackling of burning wood and the screeching and yammering of the mystical creatures, the cries of pain from the Wardens and the locust-like buzz of the power wreathing the Merchant.One by one Pug acknowledged and dismissed the sounds, consolidating the silence and tranquility of his mind. There in stillness was a power innate to him, seen in his mind¡¯s eye as a droplet of luminescent purple and pink, rippling and twisting above still, black waters reflected the colors back in perfect clarity.


    Every fairy, every magical creature of the Wylde and beyond, was born with power. This was Pug¡¯s, and though he¡¯d never trained to use it, not like the wise women of his village or Baba had been, parts of it came to him instinctively. It flowed like thick sap from his heart and he directed it down from his chest into his arms where it pooled in his hands. It wanted to go no further than there, reluctant to leave his body. It rebelled as he pressured it, pushing it down and leaving only one route for it to escape- into his spear. He was breathing in ragged gasps and a splitting pain ran front to back across his skull before his magic finally entered the weapon, first a trickle and then a torrent. It flowed into the spear in a cycle, tip to heel. Soon enough his magic pulsed in the weapon, making it feel as though the solid metal shaft had its own heartbeat.


    Opening his eyes, Pug regarded his weapon in wonder. The haft was covered in a twisting root-like growth wrapped over his hands and crawled up his arms to the elbow, while the tip was wreathed in a thick and dark mist rolled off and fell onto the floor. Looking closely at the tip Pug could see where tiny droplets of liquid beaded on the smooth metal, making it appear as though the iron and silver were sweating. Even as the droplets evaporated into mist more took their place. The stress of using his innate magic and the strain on his body from using his new wings compounded on each other as the fairy fluttered his wings again. He forced his wings to beat faster. He only had a little to go and then, one way or another, it wouldn¡¯t matter if he could fly anymore.


    With a sharp and shrill cry Pug flew straight into the Merchant¡¯s ankle, plunging his spear in deep. He could hear the Merchant snarl and twist about to see what had stung him, but Pug was already gone. He struck twice more, once on the thigh and another on the buttocks before briefly pulling away. The cloth around each injury was stained with dark and noxious fluid wept from the wounds, Pug¡¯s magic going to work quickly. The Merchant¡¯s gaze had found him by then, and the giant threw out his hand and released a magical blast at the fairy. Pug twirled around it, the foul energy filling his nostrils with an acrid, cloying scent, swiping at the Merchant¡¯s outstretched hand and scoring a cut across his palm. Something like agony shot across the Merchant¡¯s face, though Pug was unsure if the creature could truly feel pain. It drew its hand back and regarded it incredulously.


    ¡°Poison? What poison could you have that affects me?¡± The Merchant screeched. ¡°I, who have sampled every poison and venom between the Crumbling Sea and the Green Wastes!¡±


    Pug didn¡¯t grace him with a response. He worried if he did the monster would perceive his uncertainty, worried feeding the foul thing any information would allow it to solve the riddle of the toxin now ate at it. Instead Pug swooped forward and stabbed at the Merchant again. This time the creature backpedaled, and as his focus wavered his magic began to disperse. Thick cords of ruinous energy, which had carpeted the floor and walls nearest the Merchant, thinned and waned and the energy bolts assaulting Caimon¡¯s ward abated entirely. The wearied and battered wizard did not fail to seize the opportunity for vengeance.


    Twisting his hands about and muttering arcane verses in a clipped tone, the wizard''s shield began to fold on itself. Like a flower blooming in reverse, if the flower were made of ephemeral glass, the ragged sides of the protective barrier spiraled into a wickedly sharp point. One viciously cruel point was aimed directly at the Merchant¡¯s back With a cry the wizard pushed the iridescent lance of energy forward at a blistering speed. Still, the creature they faced was no man, and did not react as a mortal ought. The Merchant twisted out of the way with cat-like grace, the spearing point missing the small of his back though it still severed one of the monster¡¯s arms just below the shoulder.


    Caimon let out a cry of despair as he crumpled, the last of his vigor spent. Pug, exhausted as he was and entirely invested in the wizard''s final spell, didn¡¯t react to his ally¡¯s failure in time. Even as the Merchant lost one arm to the spell, his other hand found Pug in the air and grabbed him. Before he could even think, Pug¡¯s legs were enveloped in the iron grip of the man-shaped atrocity. The foul thing smiled at him even as the stump of his arm bled, though the fluids issued forth were most unlike blood, being clear and only vaguely clouded with pus-like emissions. It made as if it were going to speak, surely to gloat, at least that¡¯s what Pug thought it was going to do. Rather than suffer it, the fairy threw his spear. Viper-quick, the iron implement flew true and sank halfway into the monster¡¯s pupil.


    Though the Merchant hissed in displeasure, the affected eye never so much as blinked. As fluid, black and polluted, poured from its eye, the Merchant simply smiled wider and squeezed Pug ever tighter in his grip. Pug gasped as the pressure increased, and flaring pain shot through his left leg as it snapped. Pug pummeled at the hand holding him with his fists, but it did nothing to stop the vice-like hold the Merchant had on him. A dim corner of Pug¡¯s mind reflected perhaps recent days had shown he should refrain from fighting giants in the future. Assuming he had a future.


    Pug began to grow faint from the pain as the Merchant laughed, a low and guttural sound one would expect cesspit possessed of malevolence. Pug told the monster as much, earning a vicious snarl and a redoubling of the pressure brought to bear on his trapped legs which caused the fairy to cry out Through tear-filled eyes Pug almost missed it as the Ifrit was accompanying Lina ran into view. Dashing along the nearest shelf, the flame spirit held in one hand a sack. As he drew even with the Merchant he reeled back and threw his parcel at the abomination, using all of his built up momentum and strength. The sack sailed true through the air and behind it, issuing forth from the hand that had thrown it, was a bolt of flame. The flame caught up to the sack thrown right as it careened into the side of the Merchant¡¯s head, setting alight. The contents of the sack, which were unknown to Pug but apparently very volatile, reacted violently.


    Vibrantly bright sparks exploded across the Merchant¡¯s skull in a fan of light and noise, setting him ablaze. It, for the Merchant was surely not a man or a woman or anything in between but an aberration, smiled on even then. The strength of its grip never wavered even as its flesh caught aflame like it was soaked in spirits. Its face withered and charred quickly, though not like meat ought to but more like paper. Blackening, shrinking, and cracking as it was exposed to blazing heat. One eye was consumed in the conflagration but the other remained fixed on Pug, his spear glinting in its center as black, brackish fluid sizzled and popped in the flames. Pug¡¯s left leg sheared into two pieces in another place simultaneously with his right thigh. The sound of their compounded snapping could be heard even above the roaring bonfire was the Merchant¡¯s head. Pug desperately tried to work his way free and pressed against the Merchant¡¯s hand with all of his might, attempting to pull his legs free to no avail. He wasn¡¯t sure which he should dread, being crushed or burned to death as the monster holding him went up like dry grass in a lightning strike. Distantly Pug could hear his friends and allies crying out, but one voice in particular dominated his attention.


    ¡°With wings like yours, you¡¯re something of an anomaly among fairies, aren¡¯t you?¡± The Merchant said. His voice was dry and raspy, but his tone sounded like he was talking about the weather.


    ¡°What?¡± Pug asked, somewhat dumbfounded by the casualness of a man who was burning to death, on the losing end of  a life or death struggle.


    ¡°I would have liked to cut you open.¡± The Merchant sighed, his voice dulling as the head damaged his throat and tongue. ¡°Perhaps your organs deviated from the norm as well.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a damn monster.¡± Pug whispered through the pain, conviction and disgust dripping from his words much like the poison dripped from his spear. It must have been just as potent, for the Merchant snarled in reply.


    A dark blur burst into view then, Thalia¡¯s blackjack striking the Merchant¡¯s arm at the wrist. Seeing no effect Thalia whipped her blackjack back before bringing it down on the same spot. This time the arm gave a little, but still the pressure didn¡¯t abate. The merchant tried to jab at her with his elbow but Thalia slipped back and answered with another strike. The Warden¡¯s face was stoic and cold as she put her weapon to use, striking the same location again and again with unerring precision. Certainly the bones on the spot must have been naught but powder but still the Merchant persevered, never loosening his grip.


    ¡°Fool woman. You failed to save these creatures when you first walked through my doors, and you¡¯re sure to fail now.¡± If Thalia heard him, she didn¡¯t show it. Instead she dropped her blackjack to the floor and drew her blade.


    ¡°Dog! Attend to me!¡± The Merchant cried out for his hound as he backed away from Thalia. A rictus grin was the only expression could adorn his face now his lips had blacked and curled back like old parchment, however for a moment he seemed to give off an aura of smug satisfaction and dark mirth as a shadowed form barreled towards them from where the Dog had last fallen. The approaching figure was obscured by the smoke choking the room which had emanated from a dozen small fires, born of Tourmaline¡¯s compound and the Merchant¡¯s own energy bolts, which had now grown into an appreciable blaze. So it was that the monster was taken by surprise when the form turned out not to be the Black Dog at all, but Alphonse.


    The burly warden tackled the Merchant, hitting it at the hip and pinning it to the wall. Before it could muster its unnatural strength to drive Alphonse away, Thalia swung her blade down in a silvery flash and struck the same point she had been hitting with her blackjack. The flash parted and the bones, now shattered, were unable to turn the blade. The sword swung clean through and severed the hand entirely. She dropped her sword and leapt for the hand holding Pug, snatching it out of the air before it could strike the ground and jostle the wounded fairy. Alphonse jumped back from the Merchant, and both of them regarded the thing warily, just out of reach.


    Thalia pried the fingers back from Pug, as they were still grasping the fairy tightly despite no longer being connected to their master. Once she got him free, she flicked the hand away and into the flames now covering the store. Nestling her wounded compatriot in the folds of her jacket, Thalia turned to regard the Merchant.


    ¡°Surrender creature, and you¡¯ll face justice. I can¡¯t guarantee what it will look like, but you won¡¯t die here.¡± Thalia said evenly. Pug was amazed she even considered arresting the thing, but thought perhaps there was no truer reflection of his friend¡¯s character. Her eyes were steely and merciless, and no love was lost for the Merchant but she would see it was treated fairly under the law.


    ¡°Surrender?¡± It gave a burbling laugh. ¡°Even if I were to survive these wounds, I wouldn¡¯t suffer the depredations of captivity and humanity. Not again.¡±


    The flames wreathing the creature spiked in intensity. The thing laughed even as the flames ate at it voraciously. The smoke coming off the thing seemed to smother and choke them, pushing them back. They stumbled away from the bitter stench, the two humans propping each other up while Pug struggled to remain conscious. A veritable tide of creatures scrambled past them to the exits, and the humans followed them through the rapidly decreasing visibility.


    Pug was only vaguely aware of it when they pushed through the doors and into clean air. The night was cool and refreshing, and Pug let the breeze wash over his face. Thalia laid him on his back atop a crate or something like it and told him to stay there. Then she and Alphonse disappeared from view. Pug¡¯s head flopped to the side, and he looked at the scene outside the store front. The store itself had at some point completely gone up, and a bucket brigade was already working towards putting it out and soaking the nearby buildings to avert its spread. They had to step over the unfortunate wounded and dead, who were half submerged in the ankle deep, ashy water washed over the cobblestones.


    Several of the forms laying in the street were unmoving, horrific burns and blast marks covering their bodies. The still living among them called out for aid, but the street was too narrow for help to reach them quickly. As he looked at the scene Pug couldn¡¯t help but feel like it was a vista straight from the underworld. Yelled commands and cries for help were muffled to his ears, and his eyes were drawn to two diminutive forms that pulled themselves up onto his platform. It took him a moment to realize, but he was looking at Lina under all soot and grime. He saw tears had carved two clean tracks through the soot on her face and he tried to sit up to console her but found his body unwilling to move like he wanted.


    ¡°What happened?¡± He croaked.


    ¡°It¡¯s Jet.¡± She sobbed, falling to her knees beside him. ¡°I never found Jet.¡±


    She pressed her face into his shoulder and her sobs became muffled things. The Ifrit turned away and sat on the edge of the crate, legs dangling over empty space. Pug stroked Tourmaline¡¯s hair reassuringly as he laid on his back. He watched as the stars above were lost in the smoke, and as the cries of the wounded faded into silence.

 Chapter 22

    The days after the raid on the Merchant¡¯s base were a whirlwind of activity, the majority of which passed by in a blur. Pug was carried back to the workshop in Eleanore¡¯s gentle embrace and laid down in his cot with explicit orders to rest and recuperate. The doctors Eleanore and Reid brought to see him concluded that, while they were distinctly unfamiliar with fairy biology, it seemed as though the Merchant had broken his legs. Based on how he felt, Pug was inclined to agree with their diagnosis. Neither Eleanore or Tourmaline wanted to leave his side as he recovered, the latter arranging her own cot to sleep in just beside his. Pug normally did not enjoy being fretted over and pampered, however, given the situation, it seemed like Tourmaline needed something to occupy her mind.


    On the other end of the spectrum, Reid and Thalia hardly stopped by at all. Even on the first day, when Pug was delirious with pain, fever, and fatigue the two Wardens were only able to stop by long enough to make sure he was going to recover. Tourmaline speculated the Wardens were avoiding them, punctuating her point with a sullen grumble before stomping away to sulk. Pug had disagreed with Lina¡¯s theory at first, believing it to be the product of the gnome¡¯s frustration with the Wardens. As time went on and Thalia continued to fail to visit, as even Eleanore was kept in the dark, Pug began to suspect his gnomish friend was onto something.


    Perhaps he began to embrace her opinions because she wouldn¡¯t stop talking about it. The gnome was entirely disenchanted with humans, disgusted they allowed such a monster to live among them. It only became worse as when Eleanore let slip the information Thalia had the opportunity to rescue Jet, she had stood in the very store he was held captive in and had walked away. No matter how often Pug attempted to remind her the entire building had been ensorcelled and enchanted beyond measure, Tourmaline¡¯s opinion of the Warden never changed. In fact, she began to suspect Thalia was deliberately withholding relevant information about Jet in an attempt to hide her own guilt.


    Pug¡¯s doubts didn¡¯t go far. He thought he knew Thalia relatively well, as well as he could know her given how much time he spent with her. In particular the days leading up the raid had been spent in near constant companionship. It was rapidly becoming obvious to him Thalia was avoiding them, but in an effort to spare herself any guilt or recrimination? didn¡¯t at all fit the Warden he¡¯d come to know. It was more likely, in his opinion, that she thought she was doing them a kindness by hiding from them. He just wished Thalia would stop by long enough for him to tell her he¡¯d rather know the truth than live in suspense.


    He¡¯d formed this opinion after nearly a week of ruminating. By the time the second week with no word had passed he¡¯d found his patience thoroughly tested, though not in the least by Lina¡¯s constant complaints. He thanked his lucky stars when, at the dawn of the third week, Reid and Thalia stopped by the workshop. Pug¡¯s heart went out to them immediately, the pair looking worn and beaten down. Reid looked particularly poorly, his skin pale and perpetually damp with sweat. Sleep deprivation had carved deep lines into his face and stamped dark circles under his eyes. It seemed as though the Inquirer hadn¡¯t slept a wink since he¡¯d been let out of the hospital. Pug thought he ought to still be in the hospital, the Inquirer¡¯s heart having almost stopped when he took a magical bolt to the chest. It failed to kill him outright, however he had spent the entire raid fighting for survival under the ministrations of the wizard and medics in the street while his Wardens fought and died inside the store.


    And die they did, by the handful. Reid gave Pug as much information as he could about the aftermath of the raid, though Pug couldn¡¯t bring himself to interrogate the weary Inquirer too hard.Quietly, Reid disclosed the team at the backdoor hadn¡¯t had a wizard. They hadn¡¯t had much in the way of magical defenses. Though, the ones who came in the front hadn¡¯t gotten out unscathed either. Several had been hit as Caimon¡¯s shield began to fail and the Black Dog had managed to kill two Wardens in their attempt to save Alphonse. Caimon himself survived though the wizard slept for a full week after the raid, recovering his drained magic.


    Grim news delivered, Reid seemed to want to change the subject. He introduced himself to Tourmaline, smiling politely through the gnomes surly greeting. Lina pouted and stamped her feet, however she still grabbed the human¡¯s outstretched finger and bobbed it up and down in an approximation of a handshake.Tourmaline looked ready to burst with questions and accusations, though she managed to hold her tongue. Reid asked about Pug¡¯s recovery and Pug politely confirmed he was on the mend though his legs were still in splints. He still wasn¡¯t able to fly for long, though he was getting closer to his old times.


    ¡°Probably because that¡¯s the only way you can get around.¡± Reid laughed, his tone a tinge sour.


    ¡°Hopefully my legs heal soon or they¡¯ll atrophy and I¡¯ll have to fly everywhere.¡± Pug replied with a smile he didn¡¯t really feel.


    Thalia and Eleanore emerged from the back room, talking in low tones. Their faces were flushed and voices rough with contained emotion, Eleanore grasping onto Thalia¡¯s sleeve. Thalia jerked her arm away, pulling her sleeve roughly from Eleanore¡¯s grip. She passed by Reid like a stormfront on her way to the door, leaving the befuddled Inquirer to stumble to his feet after her. It was in his momentary distraction, Pug struck.


    ¡°Inquirer Reid, I know you¡¯re probably busy with the aftermath and reports and everything.¡± Pug spoke quickly. ¡°But Lina and I, we¡¯re wondering if you had any information on our friend?¡±


    Reid froze in the middle of standing up, looking between Pug and Thalia¡¯s stiffened back. Thalia¡¯s shoulders slumped as she turned around, and she only got smaller under Reid¡¯s intense gaze. Pug saw Eleanore put her hands on her hips and give Thalia a look screamed ¡®I-told-you-so¡¯. It seemed this was, perhaps, the root of their argument.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t told them?¡± Reid inquired in a low tone.


    ¡°Pug was still recovering, I thought it would do more harm than good.¡± She explained.


    ¡°And you feel responsible for failing to stop the Merchant the first time you saw him.¡± Tourmaline stated flatly.


    ¡°Of course. I¡¯m not above saying I felt guilty.¡± Thalia paused, swallowing thickly. ¡°And afraid. Afraid of how both of you would take it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m well enough to hear it now, Thalia.¡± Pug said with a wan smile.


    Thalia opened her mouth as though to reply, finding herself too choked up to speak at first. She cleared her throat and blinked her eyes, hard, in an effort to stave off the tears Pug could already see beginning to form. With a deep breath she mastered her heart well enough to speak, though her voice was still tremulous and weak.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to say for certain, given the fire. We¡¯re not certain we managed to free all of the captives on the main floor.¡± Tourmaline paled then, though Thalia didn¡¯t seem to notice. ¡°Moreover, we found evidence of a basement and the¡­ remains of the Wyldelife he¡¯d brought down there.¡±


    For a moment Thalia looked as though she were going to vomit, and Reid was quick to interject.


    ¡°The fire got to the basement, of course, but we were able to recover some of the records the Merchant had kept. I won¡¯t go into it into too much detail, but it appears as if the ¡®Faerie Dust¡¯ moniker was a product of the monster¡¯s sick sense of humor. In a very literal sense the Dust was made of Wyldelife, and other supernatural creatures.¡±


    ¡°Several of the beings who were willing to stay and answer our questions confirmed they¡¯d seen a gnome brought to the basement as well.¡± Thalia took back over, nodding her thanks to Reid for the momentary reprieve. ¡°Based on their testimony, what we recovered of the Merchant¡¯s research logs, and the state of the building, we believe it''s unlikely Jet survived.¡±


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    ¡°I see.¡± Pug said, at a loss for words. Tourmaline clenched his hand in her own, nearly crushing it in her grip.


    ¡°The ones who died in the fire.¡± She whispered. ¡°Is it my fault?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Thalia said firmly. ¡°Don¡¯t you ever think that. Without the distraction of the fire, without the assistance of the creatures you freed, we might well have all died that night.¡±


    Tourmaline didn¡¯t reply, bringing her hands up to hide her face. Pug put his newly freed hand on her shoulder, but couldn¡¯t think of a single thing to say to reassure her. He realized there was likely nothing he could, or should, say. Sometimes you had to let a friend hurt and all you could do is be by their side as they processed it.


    ¡°Thank you, for telling us.¡± Pug said simply.


    Pug reached out a hand and Thalia extended her own, the little fairy grabbing the tip of her index finger. He smiled at her and he saw it nearly broke the Warden. Whatever happened in the days going forward, he didn¡¯t want Thalia to hold onto this guilt. She seemed the type to need a burden and if she were going to carry one he reasoned it ought to be the burden of responsibility, not blame. Thalia¡¯s composure crumbled then, and she swept her small friends up into a nearly crushing embrace. Eleanore was close behind, though Reid only looked on from a distance with a faintly bemused expression.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t tell you.¡± Thalia blubbered. ¡°I was afraid you¡¯d blame me for failing to save him.¡±


    ¡°You did everything you could. You¡¯re only human, after all.¡± Pug mumbled through a mouthful of cloth. Thalia shook her head and let out a small chuckle that was quite nearly drowned out by her tears. Pug was moved by how much the duty-bound human truly cared.


    Pug managed to extricate himself from the crushing hug and murmured words of comfort. If Tourmaline was still bitter the humans had withheld the information so long, he couldn¡¯t tell it. She had her face buried in Eleanore¡¯s shirt as she sobbed, the human cooing and stroking her back gently with two fingers. Pug felt wholly unsure what, precisely, he could add to . Indeed, Pug found he couldn¡¯t bring himself to cry, or rage, or feel much of anything at all. He felt like he was looking at the world through a pane of thick glass. The realization sent a jolt of fear through him, though even that was muted and distant. In a scramble he tried to remember the last time he¡¯d worried about Jet or thought about him. Had he just not cared about Jet? What kind of friend, what kind of person did make him?


    His thoughts only picked up speed as he turned over every stray thought and errant emotion in a vain attempt to find his grief. The emotions he thought he should have been feeling were nowhere to be found. Instead a rising tide of nebulous something began to choke him. It was as though there was too much, too much to hear and see and process. It was about to overwhelm him when he felt a firm and reassuring presence at his back. Pug looked up and saw Inquirer Reid staring down at him, his normally stoic expression softened by compassion.


    ¡°It''s okay, you¡¯re in shock.¡± Reid murmured. ¡°You can¡¯t rush this kid, you have to let the feelings come to you when they¡¯re ready to.¡±


    ¡°But I don¡¯t feel anything, at all.¡± Pug whispered. ¡°That can¡¯t be right.¡±


    ¡°When the time comes, you¡¯ll feel it. You won¡¯t want to, but you will.¡± Reid paused, a darkness filling his eyes told Pug the old Inquirer knew all too much about grief. ¡°You may not cry, or rage. Everyone does it differently, but it will come all the same.¡±


    Reid¡¯s reassurances did little to assuage Pug¡¯s worries, the words hollow and falling flat to Pug¡¯s ears. He had little control over how he felt, but to be devoid of anything at all haunted him far more than he thought any other feeling could. He knew all he could do was move forward, however for a brief moment he wasn¡¯t sure he could. Perhaps he¡¯d be locked in this moment forever, unable to change or move on. Tourmaline, perhaps sensing his inner turmoil, broke away from Eleanore and Thalia and moved towards him. Pug met her eyes, helpless, and what he saw there finally broke him. With a blubbering cry he all but tackled Tourmaline, the stout gnome absorbing the impact without budging. As they held each other and cried, all Pug could think about was how her eyes held softness and care and, more importantly, what they didn¡¯t hold.


    She doesn¡¯t blame me at all. Pug wondered, realizing how deeply he had wounded himself in his own guilt.


    ***


    It was quite a while later the last of the tears dried and the last snotty kerchief was stowed for washing. The four of them had exhausted themselves with their emoting, what with Tourmaline, Pug, and Thalia crying their hearts out why Eleanore busied herself with reassuring and consoling her friends. She¡¯d made about a dozen cups of tea throughout the ordeal and was beginning to look a little haggard and worn herself. Or at least, as haggard and worn as a lady of her standing could afford to look. Inquirer Reid had maintained his stoicism, compassionately choosing to vacate the premises when it became evident they weren¡¯t going to calm down in short order. He returned a few hours later and a few kebabs richer, which he shared amongst the party. Thalia, in particular, seemed oddly happy with the food though Pug couldn¡¯t tell why.


    ¡°I have something I¡¯ve been meaning to ask you, Pug.¡± Thalia asked, the first to break the awkward tension formed in a room full of people who had just watched each other cry.


    Pug cocked his head, curious. He had a mouthful of kebab he was working on, but he nodded at the Warden to continue.


    ¡°What magic do you cast on your spear? I¡¯ve never seen anything like it. Are you a wizard?¡± Thalia blurted, and though she was the first to vocalize it, curiosity was evident on everyone¡¯s face.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a wizard or sorcerer or anything of the like.¡± Pug stated. ¡°That was just my natural magic.¡±


    ¡°Natural magic?¡± Thalia echoed, while Tourmaline nodded sagely. She¡¯d be familiar with the concept, but some concern must have occurred to her as she stopped nodding along and pursed her lips.


    ¡°The creatures of the Wylde and other supernatural sorts are all beings of magic, to one degree or another.¡± Pug explained, clearing his throat. ¡°While we can learn to cast spells using our magic, most of us just use what comes most easily to us. This is called our natural magic, as it tends to exemplify some part of our nature.¡±


    ¡°And your magic made you poisonous?¡± Thalia arched her brow.


    ¡°Fairies are nature spirits, we¡¯re each named after a particular flower. My flower happens to be poisonous, and I channeled a bit.¡± Pug explained, trying to remember how they explained it in his nursery school.


    ¡°How do they know what to name you? Is there a test or something that tells your parents what plant you take after?¡± Eleanore chimed in, inquisitiveness sparkling in her eyes.


    ¡°Our parents don¡¯t name us? We¡¯re born named after the concept we represent. Tourmaline is the same, in a way she¡¯s a tourmaline spirit.¡± The humans appraised Tourmaline with eyes full of newfound appreciation and wonder, however his gnomish friend finally seemed able to voice what bothered her.


    ¡°So you are the same! I¡¯ve been wondering what kind of flower a pug is.¡± Tourmaline said, consternation written clearly across her face.


    ¡°Pug isn¡¯t my name!¡± Pug tittered.


    ¡°What?¡± Lina cried.


    ¡°Pug is a nickname, Belladonna and her coterie used to tease me with it.¡± Pug chuckled. ¡°I asked everyone I knew to call me by name, so it wouldn¡¯t have power over me anymore.¡±


    Tourmaline gaped, stunned at the revelation. Pug got the sense his friend was upset though he wasn¡¯t sure why. He tried to meet her eyes but the gnome studiously avoided his gaze. Before he could prod her as to what was wrong his attention was called elsewhere.


    ¡°What¡¯s your real name then?¡± Thalia interjected, oblivious to Tourmaline¡¯s mood.


    ¡°My name is Foxglove.¡±


    ¡°Then where did Pug come from?¡± Eleanore wondered


    ¡°I¡¯m named after a moth. The foxglove pug lays its larva in the flower. It¡¯s a play on my true name and on my wings.¡± He spread his wings to show them, momentarily forgetting about his maiming at Gregor¡¯s hands. ¡°Oh. Well my wings were brown and tan, you know, before. Fairies usually have beautiful, colorful wings.¡±


    ¡°And sets you apart from all the other children.¡± Eleanore grumbled, meeting Pug¡¯s gaze with sympathy. ¡°I know how it feels, Pug, and I¡¯m sorry. They probably won¡¯t like your new wings all that much either.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯d find some reason to mock me no matter what.¡± Pug smiled at Eleanore reassuringly. ¡°I can guarantee these are going to be the most beautiful wings in the village. Well, aside from Orchid¡¯s.¡±


    Something in his tone must have given him away, some note of wistfulness or loneliness. In any case, both Thalia and Eleanore perked up at Orchid¡¯s name and began to question him with increasing intensity. Their badgering about who she was, how long he¡¯d known her, what she was like, kept him from addressing Tourmaline like he meant to. It wasn¡¯t long before his friend shuffled away to lie upon the cot Eleanore had provided for her. Assuming her terseness had been born of fatigue, Pug resolved to let her sleep the pain of the day away.