Fiction: The Beastheart & The Faeries

Part One, The Beastheart

Lives lay in moments wasted. But they both knew the value of reading the situation. The lay of the land. Plunging in on perilous impulse, however noble, could mean their own lives added to the tally. They would not have used words like ‘tactics’ or ‘strategy;’ to the two of them, it was simply prudent to watch and think and plan before acting. 

They watched as the hobgoblins made sport of their prey. They had tested themselves against the devil-goblin hybrids before and always their mettle proved superior. But this was a delicate scenario.

There was a whole fist here and this created something of a challenge but without needing to communicate, they both sensed the hobgoblins’ captives had a power of their own. They had, presumably, been stripped of their weapons or implements. But it was hard to tell exactly. It was hard to see the captives with any detail.

For the hobgoblins captives, trapped in a small metal cage hanging from a tree branch, were faeries. They must have been transferred there from a trap. They could see the netting used in setting the trap. This was interesting. Just the idea of hobgoblins capturing faeries and apparently interrogating them was challenging. The faeries they had met were useless.

These faeries weren’t like that. This much was obvious. And they were the prey of the Hobgoblins, which said everything about their allegiances. There were two of them, a brightly colored one with sunbright moth wings, and a dark one with black butterfly wings.

She noticed the bright one talk, and then the hobgoblins argue. She elbowed her companion, who had been carefully noting and cataloging each individual enemy, ranking them based on threat and opportunity. 

They both watched the two hobgoblins bickering. They seemed to be the senior-most. This was interesting. Had the bright faerie caused this? If so, then perhaps they were no mere travelers, civilians. They might be counted on to meaningfully contribute to their own liberation, given the chance.

Images and emotions blurred together in a language more efficient than speech. A debate. Two approaches. Kill them all, or snatch the captives and run. Merits to either, dangers to both.

But there was something they knew, and their minds were so similar they both conjured the knowledge at the same time. No need to communicate when you think the same thoughts in the same moment.

The hobgoblins were intelligent, scheming. Not always fanatics. Properly motivated, they could be relied upon to retreat. But this would not be possible if the battle created too much confusion.

They needed two things, in other words. Body count sufficient to motivate the retreat, and a command structure capable of calling for it. This was a delicate thread to weave. But their needle was exceedingly fine.

She pointed her longspear singling out one hobgoblin, a female. She was obviously the witch of the fist, festooned with skulls and talismans and covered in black tattoos.

They agreed on a plan. The beast loped off into the forest while she waited, measuring heartbeats, to give him time to get in position.

The hobgoblins were still arguing. Good. If they were being manipulated by the speech of the bright faerie, then the two faeries might be able to affect their own escape. But no reason to take chances.

She gripped her longspear, stood, and walked into the clearing.

—

“We should have avoided the clearing,” the dark one said.

“You’re right!” the bright one agreed with a resigned sigh. “This is the only reason clearings exist, as far as I can tell,” she gestured to the whole situation they were in.

The dark one agreed. “The trees get bored and make clearings for no other reason than to be audiences for the inevitable dramas that ensue.”

“Well,” the bright faerie said, watching the escalating tension among the hobgoblins intently. She spoke with an eternally carefree air, but her eyes were locked on the developing argument. “I for one intend to give them quite a show indeed.”

“Once again,” the dark one said, “I find your intentions unimpeachable.”

The hobgoblin captain stabbed a finger at his lieutenant and the lieutenant took a step back and put a hand on his falchion. 

“Escape from these bars seems more and more likely by the moment,” the bright one observed.

The dark one nodded. “And escape from the clearing?”

“Oh,” the bright one said with a lofty air, “I very much doubt we’ll get out alive, there are thirty of them.”

The dark one nodded. “But our lives will be bought at a very high price and the story they will tell afterwards…,” he sighed.

“It’s almost a shame,” the bright one turned to the dark one with a look of love. “To imagine we might live.”

The dark one smiled, and winked at her.

Suddenly, the argument stopped. And the entire fist turned away from them.

“Brother, look,” the bright one said.

“Oh ho ho,” he replied, watching a young lady, human of all things, walk alone and unafraid into the clearing. “A new actor lights upon the stage,” he said.

“A hero! If I’m any judge.”

“Darling, no judge ever had more authority. I hope you’re taking note of her features and demeanor. I cannot wait to hear what feats of legend you grant her in your next epic.”

“I am indeed. Brother do you note her dexter arm?”

A hobgoblin obscured his view. “Is that…dexter to her or dexter to us?”

“Oh forgive me,” the bright elf watched the human while she twisted her faerie body a half turn and tilted her head. “Dexter to her,” she concluded.

He craned his head. “Ohhhh,” a sigh escaped his lips. “This is a hero of legend. She comes, bearing not just a spear, but a story. Sister!” he said as he stared at her right arm, “do you see how intricate the making? That is no mere arm of bone, that is a device. The craftsmanship!”

“Oh she must be victorious here. We must see to it. Look at her raiment. Cloth armor, in purple. Certainly a noble. And that spear. The longspear of a templar from the court of Lord Tear unless I miss my guess.”

“You do not. I say it is a gift.”

“Of a surety. Our hero would not battle Lord Tear, she would be his willing ally. Even if only temporarily.”

“Indeed, it must be an award for some impossible deed.”

The bright faerie nodded. “I will make sure of it.”

Her brother gasped. “She braids her hair and the ribbons of her raiment! She has taste dear sister!”

“Ah vanity! All this, with style and grace. If this is our savior, I could not have conjured a better. I may have to…,” she turned to her brother. “I may be forced to omit details lest the critics accuse me of overwriting!”

“Well they do that anyway,” her brother said.

“Yes but in this case they may be correct.”

“Quiet sister, she speaks.”

—

The hobgoblins in the clearing stared at her, incredulous. But, she noticed, the nearest ones took a few steps back and crowded together. Good, she thought. She had learned from her master the value of theatrics.

She also noticed, for whatever reason, perhaps the discord the bright faerie sowed, the gathered hobgoblin fist were waiting for her to speak. This banished any doubt she might have had.

“Hear now the speech of my lord Uldric, Count of Vašra!” she announced. The gathered hobgoblins looked at each other with some confusion. Was this someone they should have heard of? Who was this young human female, who stood before a whole fist and addressed them without fear?

“I come bearing a message from my lord for the captain of this fist. Who shall receive it?”

The hobgoblins all looked to their captain, who walked forward, the human bones hanging from his belt rattled against his greaves. He looked to his witch, to his lieutenant for support. He appeared deeply unsure whether he was in trouble or if he should dispatch this human.

He stood before her. “What is the message?”

The young woman looked at the ground and shook her head once. Then she looked back at the red-skinned devil-goblin looming over her. She took a deep breath and let it out with an exasperated sigh.

“I am squire Talisia, herald to Lord Uldric. You will introduce yourself properly before we proceed.”

The assembled hobgoblins looked at their leader, many of them frowning. The captain frowned and stood a little straighter. “It is Captain Hor’kylut of the fifth fist under Surgav, Death Captain to Bloodlord Varrox who speaks. What is your business here?”

“I have come to recover my companions,” she nodded at the cage across the clearing, her voice unbothered but direct.

She thought she saw the bright little faerie clap her hands in glee several times. Probably a trick of the eye.

“Your….” the captain started and he looked from the imprisoned fey to the lone human. He sneered. Some of his people laughed. “Hm,” the devil-goblin captain mused. His bravado inspired his soldiers and this inspired him to greater bravery.

“Where is this, ‘Lord Uldric of Varza?’” Captain Hor’kylut made a show of looking around the clearing. “Is he nearby? Fetch him and bring him to me and perhaps I will listen. Perhaps I will…trade these two,” he gestured to the cage, “for you and your master.”

The young woman shook her head, a look of deep regret on her face. “Very well,” she said. “I will summon Lord Uldric. I had hoped to spare Bloodlord Varrox, whose power is known to all, from the humiliation of losing an entire fist. But it seems you are committed to your own deaths. I would not have guessed these two,” she said nodding at the cage, “were worth your lives, but if it is the eternal enmity of House Vašra, Bloodlord Varrox seeks, I will supply it.” She turned to leave.

–

“Is she bluffing??” the bright faerie asked.

“She is an excellent herald,” the dark faerie said, watching the young woman intently. “She spake truth at every word except the last.”

“Ah so there is a Lord Uldric of Vašra?”

“I believe there must be, and she is his herald. ‘Vašra.’ An eastern county by the name, she is far from home. I believe this is something like a bluff but she weaves the truth and falsehoods so tightly, I cannot…”

“Wait,” the bright faerie said looking around the clearing, noting how the herald was positioned exactly opposite them in the clearing and every hobgoblin had their backs to the two faeries. “I recognize this story. She’s not bluffing. She’s stalling.”

—

The lieutenant, eyes wild, rushed forward. “Captain!” The young woman stopped, and turned to listen.  “What if she speaks truth?? What are these two pixies to us that they be worth our lives?”

Hor’kylut sneered at his lieutenant and turned his back. He looked at the witch who stood apart. She glowered at him, her normal expression, and shook her head once.

“Our lives?” Hor’kylut said, turning to his lieutenant and raising his voice. “Our lives? To who? To this?” he stabbed a finger at the young woman. “A single human? Against an entire fist?! Why should we not…,”

The young woman interrupted him. The fact that this was even possible spoke volumes to everyone in the clearing except the hobgoblins. “My lord is not unreasonable,” she said, and once again she had Hor’kylut’s attention. “He understands you cannot return to your master empty handed. Therefore,” she said raised her voice so all could hear. “I am empowered to negotiate on his behalf!”

The hobgoblin captain wasn’t having it. His men were confused, he tried to show strength. 

“An interesting proposition. But as you see,” he said, extending his arm to gesture at the cage. “We already have everything we want. And you,” he looked the young woman up and down, “have nothing we need.”

She scanned the clearing, making sure not to let her eyes rest even for an instant, on the witch. She finally looked again at the captain. His helm lacked the curving horns and ceremonial enemy skull of a death captain. It was one of the main reasons she assumed she would win.

“You’re wrong,” she said, and her voice had gotten quieter. They had to strain, some lean in, to hear her. She stood so casually, leaning on her spear, there was no sign that she thought a fight might break out in an instant.

“You think?” Captain Hor’kylut said, amused. He looked at her arm, her spear. “You have…something to offer us? This spear perhaps. And that arm,” he said momentarily transfixed by her prosthetic. “Very…valuable?”

She articulated her fingers and the golden fingernails gleamed in the sun.

“Beyond price,” she said. “But I have something even more valuable to trade.”

“More..!” Hor’kylut got very excited before getting himself under control. Not very bright, she thought. He looked her up and down, wondering what treasure she hid. “Tell me!” he demanded.

She let the moment build for a moment looking, expressionless, at the captain, then his lieutenant. Several of the lancers and firerunners in the back took a few steps forward to hear better. She waited until she was sure they were all giving her their full attention.

“Your lives,” she said. She spoke as neutrally as one commenting on the weather.

—

“What dialog!” the bright faerie said.

—

Captain Hor’kylut, expecting a quite different answer, recoiled in anger making a noise like “Angh?!”

She stood up a little straighter and raised her voice, there was steel in it now. “Surrender those two, now, no more talk. And I let you all go free. Otherwise….”

“Otherwise?” the hobgoblin lieutenant asked in spite of himself. 

“Otherwise none of you leave this clearing alive.”

Silence for a moment. They were already terrified and she’d done nothing. She had them. She held the initiative in her hand, waiting only for a perfect moment to unleash it.

The captain snapped out of it first. “She’s bluffing!” he barked, but she detected something in his voice. Hope. He hoped she was bluffing. “She’s not alone, search for her companions! We’ll have no ambushes this day.”

Six lancers lead by a helltrooper immediately plunged into the forest. The fist tried going back to being a military unit but it was too late. They no longer knew where they stood or who was really in charge.

“Guard this one,” Hor’kylut said, and six lancers surrounded her. She noted that their longspears meant they stood at a good distance. Far enough away that she would not be bothered by their burning acid hellblood when they died.

“Now,” Captain Hor’kylut said, walking back and forth, feeling in charge again. “Either my scouts flush your allies out, in which case perhaps this negotiation will continue with many more hostages on my side. Or you truly are alone in which case we will prepare a larger cage for you.”

Talisia shifted her weight and looked up at a lone hawk circling high overhead, wholly incurious about events below. This lack of interest caught the hobgoblin captain’s attention.

“Oh, perhaps your Lord Uldric will come to your aid!” Hor’kylut half-bowed, mocking her.

“You would not wish it so,” Squire Talisia said, her eyes still on the hawk. She lowered them to look at the twisted face of Hor’kylut. “Had you seen what happens to his enemies.”

Her calm confidence and the way she invoked her absent lord once again gave Captain Hor’kylut pause. Then a sound from behind him.

They all turned to see the scouting party emerge from the thick forest. The firerunner had a green tattoo across his right eye. “Captain, the forest is empty!” he reported as his men followed him into the clearing. He was standing very near the metal cage with the two fairies in it. “Surely we are the only threat within HYAARGH!!!”

The firerunner’s body suddenly split in half at the waist, a heavy white blade slicing him in two. A great gout of blood erupted from him as both halves of him fell into a pile.

A giant white feline bounded out of the forest, landing by the cage, each end of his bifurcated tail tapered into something like a knife as long as a halberd blade. One was covered in pink hobgoblin blood.

—

The fairies turned to each other in delight and said, at the same time, “She’s a beastheart!”

—

The lancers braced to attack, and the giant cat let out a deafening bellow. Five of the six hobgoblins were blasted back, off their feet, landing on their backs. One stood alone. It thrust its lance at the pantherous beast, piercing its skin, but the big white cat ignored the wound.

Squire Talisia spun her longspear about her and lightning erupted from the tip. In a moment, six more lancers were dead.

Captain Hor’kylut had a raging lightbender before him and an equally devastating human behind him. He pointed to the burning witch.

The witch twisted her arms around each other in a manner that should not have been possible, and three hell troopers translated next to Squire Talisia, the blast of superheated brimstone that heralded the hell troopers’ arrival seared her flesh and scorched her armor.

—

“Sweetie, darling,” the bright faerie said. “I believe this would be the most dramatic moment to affect our escape.”

“Of course,” the dark faerie said, bowing, “you know I was only waiting for your say so. I would never dream of acting in an anticlimactic manner.”

“What would audiences say?” the bright faerie agreed. “And after our savior has played her part so well.”

The dark faerie produced from his decolletage a tiny–or long if you were a faerie–needle with a hook at one end. He flew between the bars of his cage, his tiny wings beating slowly but scooping up more than enough air to keep him aloft, and faced the lock.

Inserting his hooked needle, he deftly unlocked the cage with a single twist, and then flew back inside the cage.

“After you,” he said, deferring to the other faerie.

“Ever the soul of tact,” the bright faerie said, and pushed the unlocked door to the cage open. They both flew out into the fray.

—

The white catbeast leapt on the lone lancer and, with a growl, twisted its head sideways grabbing the lancer by the torso. He bit down and bring pink blood sprayed out, scalding the cat’s lips. The cat took no notice of its own searing flesh and shook the hobgoblin several times in rapid succession, bones snapped, the hobgoblin squealed, and the cat threw its head back, swallowing the hobgoblin whole.

The assembled hobgoblins looked on in shock. Several of them chose to igore their captain, and start running in whatever direction was convenient.

The faeries meanwhile made a beeline for their captured equipment.

“Ignore the captain and his lieutenant,” the bright one said as she strapped a tiny stringed instrument across her chest. “Focus on the…,”

“Yes I think I’ve intuited our new friend’s strategy,” the dark faerie said picking up several black knives and inserting them into various parts of his outfit. “Quite sound.”

The bright faerie flew toward a knot of hell trooper hobgoblins. She produced a tiny plectrum.
“Darlings!” she said, and played six rapid chords. The first four a prelude, and the hell troopers turned to look at the sound. The last two, a thunder.

The hell troopers flew backwards, landing prone, their flails knocked out of their hands landed several feet away.

Meanwhile the dark faerie flitted across the battlefield, tiny explosions of black ash heralded his translations, allowing him to dodge several attacks until he was right behind the burning witch.

A black dagger in his hand, he plunged it into the neck of the witch, slicing right into a main artery. The witch screamed. He removed his blade and a torrent of blood emerged causing her legs to buckle for a moment.

Then a spear, the elven longspear of a templar in Lord Tear’s court, hit the witch square in the chest, piercing it through, the tip visible protruding from her back.

She fell to the ground, dead. 

The hobgoblin captain looked around. His lieutenant, most of his lancers, his hell troopers were still alive, but in an advanced state of terror and disarray. The world had gone mad in just a few heartbeats. With most of his battalion still intact, he bellowed “Retreat!!”

The bright faerie joined the dark as the young woman walked calmly toward the witch’s corpse, a dozen hobgoblins running past her in terror. She put her boot on the dead witch, and pulled her spear free, wiping it on the witch’s body. 

She planted the haft of her longspear on the ground and took a casual stance, a smile played across her lips as she watch the two faeries hovering in the air like butterflies. Occasionally they swapped places, darting like dragonflies.

“Well met,” she said, and smiled.

Part Two, The Faeries

“Greetings, acolyte of ancient Dyrvis,” the dark faerie said.

“I…,” Squire Talisia was confused. “I don’t know…who that is.”

The bright faerie smiled broadly and her eyes crinkled when she did so. “It is no matter, herald. They know you.” She looked at the lightbender on the other side of the clearing. “And you keep their tradition alive. And honor them.”

“A song!” the dark faerie said. “She deserves a song!”

“I couldn’t agree more, let’s see where inspiration takes us.”

The bright faerie fingered the notes of a chord and this time her instrument was bright and delicate, not thunder like before.

She began to sing.

“With a sigh

She saw a lone hawk circling in the sky.

She let fly

And foes fell fast until their blood ran dry.”

She listened as the song continued, marveling at the way the bright faerie wove the events of the last few moments into a beautiful song, like summer, like a madrigal. At one point the dark faerie joined in and their voices harmonized unlike anything she’d ever heard before. It made her heart ache.

Her feline companion padded over and sat on his haunches, purring loudly in approval at the music.

The song finished and the dark faerie clapped. Talisia added her own applause and her companion’s tail thumped against the ground.

“Oh darling,” the dark faerie said, “you must submit this to the next meeting of the lyceum. You simply must. Say you will.”

“Oh I couldn’t, it’s far too crude. Many more revisions ahead, I fear. I felt the explicit references to our enemies quite artless didn’t you?”

The dark faerie tilted his head. “I did feel as though the elegant imagery of the hawk and our feline friend here,” he said indicating the lightbender, “somewhat clashed with the more…,” he looked around the clearing at the dead hobgoblins, “ah, literal references.”

“I quite agree, metaphor is so much more powerful and frankly I want the song to be uplifting and joyful, it should make others feel,” she and her brother turned in the air to face the squire, “how we feel now,” she finished, smiling at their new friend.

Somehow, Talisia found herself blushing.

“We already know your name, Squire Talisia, Herald of Lord Uldric Count of Vašra” the dark faerie said. “I am Asphodel and this is my sister, Acanthus. We will not bore you with our titles, the sun will be setting in a few hours and there simply isn’t time.”

“Oh but one title for you, please brother.” She turned, excited, to Squire Talisia. “This is my brother, Doctor Asphodel.”

The dark faerie bowed. “Your servant, mistress.”

“Doctor?” Talisia asked, unfamiliar with the term in this context.

“My brother just finished the advanced studies course at the Gloaming School¹,” Acanthus said with pride.

“The gloaming,” Talisia said with awe.

Asphodel tilted his head deferentially. “An obscure school, nothing like as fine as your College of Black Ash, of a surety.”

“Oh you are being modest, brother!”

“Fair sister, dost thou accuse me of self-effacement? Perhaps it is as the terrans say. There is a first time for everything.”

“You’re brother and sister?” Talisia said looking from one to the other. “But you look so different.”

Acanthus, the bright, moth-winged faerie turned to her brother. “Oh she is wise,” she said.

Her brother Asphodel nodded. “Observant. A hunter’s instinct for coloration and classification.”

“Shall we enlighten her?”

“Oh I think we must.”

The two faeries turned to face the young human woman and said, in unison;

“She’s/He’s adopted,” they each tilted their head toward the other.

They looked at each other sharply, frowning. Different faces with the same expression.

They each sniffed and looked away.

“Opinions differ” Acanthus said haughtily.

“The accounts, irretrievable,” Asphodel said, shaking his head with regret.

“Witnesses, sadly, unreliable.”

“Calendars, contradictory.”

“Mustn’t overdo it darling,” Acanthus said.

Asphodel bowed. “I lack the author’s sense,” he conceded.

They were so tiny and animated, at first she thought them like children. But seeing them interact, listening to their speech, they were obviously well into adulthood. How long do faeries live? she wondered.

“I’ve met faeries before,” Talisia said, “but they were…different.” She found it easy to relax among these two, even after such a battle.

“Ah yes,” Asphodel’s voice dripped tragedy. “Our lamentable cousins.”

“I’m afraid you haven’t seen them at their best,” Acanthus said.

“They were like us, once.”

“When the world was young.”

“But they were created to serve, you see,” Asphodel said.

“All the elves, as you call them, were.”

“Yes and when our creator…left.”

Acanthus shrugged. “They went, well there’s no other word for it, they went mad.”

“They mean no harm!” Asphodel pointed out.

“Not at all!” Acanthus agreed. “All they want to do is serve and, if a terran–excuse me–a human wanders into their wood, well…”

“They can’t help themselves.”

“It’s a gruesome end, I hear. For those who fall under their spells.”

“Worse, I fear, for the loved ones of those ensorcelled.”

“If it’s any consolation…,” Acanthus began.

“(Which it isn’t,)” Asphodel muttered.

“...their victims have no idea what’s happening. They only see what the fey want them to see, only hear the sweet music they play. Of course, their food isn’t real, cannot nourish. But the humans don’t notice.”

“Perhaps it’s…perhaps it’s not the worst end,” Asphodel said, his brow furrowed in deep sadness.

“Darling it’s far too beautiful a day to develop our own calculus of demise.”

Asphodel pulled himself together and put on a brave face. “You’re quite right.”

“But who are…,” Talisia began, not knowing how to ask her question. “Who are your people?”

“My sister and I are courtiers of the Hypoxid Court.”

“Our father is the queen’s consort!” Acanthus said.

“What does…,” Talisia didn’t mind admitting ignorance to these two. “What does ‘Hypoxid’ mean?”

Acanthus smiled broadly, “It is a family of flowers!”

“All the faerie courts are named thus.”

“As are many of the courts of our cousins, the elves of the wode.”

Relaxed, nearly happy, Talisia reached out her right hand without thinking, to scratch the head of her feline companion. This caused the faeries to burst into activity.

“The arm!” they both said, flying around her right arm in spiral circles.

Acanthus removed a small eyepiece from a pocket and applied it to her right eye. “Such workmanship. The arm that threw the spear!” she added.

“Oh it’s a prosthetic!” Asphodel said, looking at the join between living flesh and sorcerous bone.

“Pray tell, lady,” Acanthus said, “How didst thou come by such glorious equipage?”

She snatched her hand away, went to hide it behind her back and realized what she was doing. She shifted her longspear into her right hand and tried to stand casually.

The two faeries retreated, aware they had crossed some line, unsure how to proceed.

“We meant no offense, lady,” Asphodel said, wounded.

“It’s all right,” Squire Talisia said, gripping her longspear. The golden talons at the end of her right finger dug into the wood. “I…I lost my arm in…,” it was obviously difficult for her to get the words out. “In service to my…my lord and he…,” she looked at her arm. “He made…,”

Both faeries looked at each other, somber. Something passed between them. Knowledge that their new friend carried deep wounds that could not be seen, but which lingered just under the surface of the great bravado she showed in the clearing.

“Lady,” Acanthus said, “we were strangers but a single turn of the moon ago,” she pointed to the high moon above, slowly but noticeably spinning. “And now we are friends,” Acanthus flitted forward so she was two feet from Talisia’s face. The tiny moth faerie was so beautiful, her heart-shaped face was tiny and perfect with wide, blue eyes and perfect chin and nose. Like a painting of a young noblewoman. 

“And if I am any judge,” the faerie continued, “I think we will be friends forever. We require no explanation, if explanation clouds your heart. For my brother and I, whatever events led you here must be joyous, else we would be strangers to each other.”

“Quite unacceptable,” she heard Asphodel say behind her.

“In time, you may find the wounds in your heart lift, and you will grace us with the story. Until then…?”

Squire Talisia took a deep breath and relaxed. She glanced at her right hand. Why couldn’t she talk about it? She was proud of it. Why did she feel shame whenever anyone asked?

Noting the conflict in the young woman, Asphodel took the initiative. “Until then, you must introduce us to your magnificent, royal companion!”

He flitted down to address the lightbender. When it seemed Talisia would not answer, lost in thought, Asphodel introduced himself with a bow.

“And what is thy name, great lord of the hunt?” the dark faerie asked. The lightbender snorted, indicating his disinterest. Or his lack of offense at the proximity of a stranger. 

The squire pulled herself out of her reverie and answered. “Max,” she said. 

“Max??” both faeries said at the same time, incredulous. 

“‘Tis not a name,” said one. 

“‘Tis barely a syllable,” said the other, feigning disgust.

“Oh it must be a diminutive,” Asphodel realized.

“Of a surety. A…pet name would you say?”

“Oh sister,” Asphodel said, nodding his head deferentially, “thou art the smith and all the world’s words your metal.”

“Well now let us see, brother. What could ‘mmacks’ be hiding?”

Asphodel removed a thin black polished stick from his vest. It was about two of his handspans long. He took a smaller white cylinder from a pocket, revealing several others inside, inserted it into the end of the thin black stick, and with a flick of two fingers, the end of the white paper cylinder ignited. Very decorously, he held the stick between index and middle finger while the white cylinder at the other end smoked, its end now glowing red embers. All the while he watched the lightbender, and thought.

He brought the stick to his mouth and drew air through it. Talisia’s eyes went wide.

“It must be an irony,” he announced before pursing his lips and blowing the white smoke out.

“Of course!” Acanthus said, clapping her hands together. “You pierce the very heart of the matter, brother. Such an impoverished syllable is but a costume, worn to obscure untold riches.”

Her brother nodded as he sucked on his smoking stick. He pulled it from out his lips. “Import,” he pronounced.

“Station,” she agreed.

“Nobility,” he concluded, indicating the regal beast’s mane and mien with his smoke stick.

“Agreed. Thus the only answer can be….”

They both looked at each other, smiling with love at their sibling bond. They turned back to the giant white feline superpredator.

“Maximillian,” they announced in unison.

“Yes!” Talisia said with enormous relief multiplied by astonishment. “How did you do that??”

“Oh,” the dark faerie said chuckling and waving her approval away with one hand, genuinely embarrassed by the compliment. “‘Tis but a parlor trick, young squire. Barely worth a comment.”

“Maximillian was…,” the girl looked to her companion whose head was almost the same level as hers, even though he was reclining on both sets of paws. “After my mother had me, they were going to have a…,” she reached out and petted Max’s head idly. The great beast’s eyes became slits. “They were going to name him Maximillian.”

“Ah,” Asphodel said.

“And after the…complication…,” Acanthus guessed, “thy father procured this magnificent beast as a proxy, to ease his young wife’s sorrow.”

“No,” the squire said idly, absentmindedly. “No, I found Max. Or he found me. I named him.”

Asphodel’s face became stone, while Acanthus blinked away budding tears to hide them.

“Victories are glass,” the bright faerie spake.

Her brother nodded. “While tragedies are fingerprints.”

“Lady pray tell,” Acanthus said, as Asphodel reached out, gingerly, attempting to pet Maximillian. The great beast did not object, and the dark faerie, delighted, began grabbing great tufts of white fur in his little hands, kneading them. Maximilian purred like a thunderstorm.

“How came you here? You are far from your home, if I am any judge.”

She took a deep breath, chose to omit most of the story. “We seek the folk of Wend. A village in Dalrath north of here.”

“A whole village?” Acanthus asked.

“Aye,” Talisia said. “Some evil causes the forests to grow together, choking off trade with Dalrath to the north. The folks of Wend feared that soon they would be cut off, and all of Dalrath consumed. They packed this fear and everything else they had onto carts and sought a way through the forest along the old road.”

“But the old road is gone,” Acanthus guessed.

“Aye,” Talisia agreed. 

Acanthus nodded. A picture was growing in her mind. “But these are not your people,” she noted.

“No, it is a favor my lord does, for the baron of Dalrath.”

“Ah, a great deed selflessly done. No wonder you carry so much pride in your station,” Acanthus observed.

“Why are you here?” Talisia asked. “How did you get captured?”

Asphodel flitted away from the lightbender, who promptly fell onto his side and closed his eyes for a nap.

“Methinks our causes are as intertwined as our fates,” Asphodel said, flying up to meet Talisia’s gaze. “Our queen stays carefully neutral in the late unpleasantness between the Orchid Court and Fallen Irranys but this witchery worked on the wood,” he said, gesturing to the forest at large. “Our queen made it known she seeks knowledge of this sorcery. It presages a great coming evil.”

“The forest is changing,” Acanthus said, her voice grave.

Asphodel nodded. “Do you see the sky?” he said, pointing up.

“Yes?” Talisia said looking at the clear blue sky, with clouds like massive flying cities sailing past.

“Ah, perhaps our eyes are more attuned,” Asphodel said to his sister.

“It is very faint, brother but yes,” she said, turning to Talisia, “We find a thin orange tint in the air. Barely noticeable even to us, but…,” she paused dramatically, “growing.”

“It’s all related, we fear,” Asphodel said.

“What’s causing it?” Talisia asked, her face suddenly serious. 

“What? We do not know.”

“How? Why? Equally elude us.”

“But where? Whence comes this power? This we flatter ourselves to think we know,” Acanthus said.

Asphodel licked his finger and held it aloft. “Equinox, if I’m any judge,” he said.

“The Dying Realm,” Acanthus said, shaking her head. Talisia looked between them, not understanding.

“I suppose it was too much to ask, to expect The Shadow Over Two Lovers’ Hearts to watch her world waste away.”

“True, but honestly, this does not seem her style.”

“No, true,” Asphodel said. “I would expect the Lady of Winter to arrive with armies and a fall of snow that never ends.”

“It is a mystery, but one we shall solve.”

“Shall we avaunt miss, and meet your esteemed lord and master?” Asphodel asked.

“Yes,” Talisia said, her voice dreamy, concentrating on something else as she looked south. “But it would please him greatly if we found these townspeople before we did.”

“Of course! We must locate these missing villagers, tend to their fears, and bring them to Lord Uldric.” She flitted closer to Talisia. “He would be so impressed with you, wouldn’t he?”

Talisia started to blush again, she wasn’t used to someone who could see her thoughts so easily. “I hope so. I think so.”

“It’s simply the least we can do for you lady. We are not like our fae cousins, you’ll find. Who forget dawn each noon and are surprised by every sunset. Our memory is very long indeed. You saved our lives. It would be our privilege to attend thee. For as long as it takes. Wouldn’t it, brother.” She looked around. “Brother?”

“I’m afraid I can’t!” they heard Asphodel say. Looking around they found Maximilian on his back, paws in the air, eyes shut contentedly with the dark faerie, wings spread out, lying nestled in the thick white fur of the animal’s belly. “For I have found Arcadia and intend never to move from this spot.”

Acanthus and Talisia both laughed.

Asphodel lifted his head to watch, and wondered when was the last time Talisia had occasion to laugh so heartily, without fear.

¹: An elven equivalent to the College of Black Ash