THE CART CREAKED AND rattled away into the night. The sounds of the encampment soon faded, but they guessed the Faroon would very quickly mount a chase once the survivors worked out where their captives had gone. Thankfully, they were not the only ones on the move. Yaarah’s low whisper informed them that they were fourth in line.

Xiximay the Phoenix Fae explained softly that this was due to the pass beyond being particularly narrow. Traffic through the gate was regulated in either direction in order to avoid snarl-ups farther along.

She then took command of Allory’s sack with a low hiss, “Hands off, pretty boy,” most likely to Varzune, and crawled inside too. “Room for another?”

The sparkly one cleared her throat nervously.

“You’re not the only one who glows in the dark,” Xiximay grinned.

Not a comforting smile. Allory tried not to think that this was like sharing a sack with a tetchy Dragoness. She and Sabline would get on a treat.

The other Fae thrust out her right hand. It was missing half of the little finger and had calluses on top of the worn patches. “Xiximay. I like to play with fire. Obviously.”

“Eep … uh, sorry.” The dark fingers clamped hers briefly. Wince. “Allory. Sparkly troublemaker.”

Why she said this, she had no idea, but the dark Fae chuckled roughly and said, “I can tell. Is that why you’re shaking so? Don’t worry, I’m a nectar drinker like you.”

Suggids. Perfect mind-read or what?

Plus, real flame flickered in the other girlfae’s irises. No cause for alarm, right? Just healthy respect. Guess that was like the sparkle in hers, only a different manifestation of Faerie magic. This girlfae was like a beautiful, dark ember that smouldered constantly with its own inner flame. No wonder Varzune’s antennae had perked up at the sight of her – yet, Allory could not help but wonder if that might not be a little too much flame. Yaarah or Sabline controlled their fires. Was this Phoenix Fae wholly in control of hers?

Harzune smacked their sack, demanding silence. Judging by the sudden increase in weight, he threw another piece of sackcloth on top just in case. Xiximay hissed as if she imagined warming up a few torture irons with her breath.

Everyone listened to the sounds outside. Paperwork checks. No problem. Being a beast of thoroughness and particularity, the Golden Purrmaine had even thought ahead to purloin the paperwork for his cargo. Yaarah presented it to someone in a faultless Faroon accent. First check done. Allory heard the Chameleons carefully spreading out, getting close to the two Elves, hiding the other non-sparkly Scintillants behind two barrels, earning a hiss as someone dared to tickle Princess Ashueli in passing. Varzune! A strange glint entered the dark Fae’s eyes as Allory mouthed the name. What?

The process took forever. A whining voice, most likely a merchant, complained bitterly about a restricted cargo for which they had signed letters, but these were insufficient according to the gate guards. “Pull aside!” someone shouted. “Let the others through!”

The official back-and-forth took forever. Allory wondered if bribes might be needed.

“Warning,” Sabline hissed suddenly.

Boots. Gruff voices in that thick accent she remembered from her abortive capture back at her colony. With a loud rustling sound, the tarpaulin was drawn back and, if she heard right, Marakusian officials holding lanterns checked over the cargo. Allory lay perfectly flat beside the Phoenix Fae and tried not to sparkle. At all. Not the slightest waft of cooler air disturbed their hiding place. Xiximay heated the interior like a portable oven. Nor could Allory edge away from Miss Flames-You-Much.

Someone said, “All good.”

At the same time, however, another male voice called, “Shut the gates there!”

Sabline let rip with a curse, as did a number of other carters ahead and behind. Her sack-companion hawked and spat aside, the spittle sizzling with heat. Amidst the commotion, Allory picked up that one of the Dragons had called for the gate to be shut while an investigation was made into allegations lodged by the Faroon in the camp. Not everyone was happy about this, including several new voices she identified as Dragons – the volume of their cart-shaking thundering being a minor clue. Even Yaarah raised his voice querulously, saying that he was Faroon and he knew of no such thing.

After a brief, sweat-inducing cross examination of the Felidragon, Allory heard wings snap and with a huge whooshing sound, the Dragons winged off to join what sounded like a gathering of irritable thunderheads not far off. Her sack-companion grimaced, coughed and made an unhappy face at no-one in particular.

“Nice work, Goldie,” Sabline purred archly.

Harzune hissed, “Stay in disguise!”

“This is ridiculous!” a man roared, his heavy boots thumping past their cart. “We’ve limited time to get through the ravine before daybreak. Come on, open up!”

“The Dragons have the only key,” a woman complained in yet another accent. Traders from all over, Allory guessed.

“Great!” Sabline growled.

“We have to move,” Yaarah muttered worriedly, by the sound of his voice, looking back over the cart and its cargo toward the tent camp. “It’s getting heated back there. Any minute now …”

“Idiots have it locked tight!” said another man.

Allory wriggled toward Xiximay. “I’ve an idea. Can you make space for me?”

“More troublemaking?”

“I suppose so,” she replied doubtfully. “I’ll need Ash, Zzuriel and a humdinger of a diversion. It all depends on –” the other Faerie levered open a gap for her with her muscular arms “– alright. Zzuriel, pssst! Over here. How much damage can you do to gate locks and how quickly?”

“Ooh, Allory’s on the warpath,” Harzune approved. “Zzuriel?”

“Whatever does she mean?”

“How long before you can make metal or wood cold enough to shatter it?”

Murmurs rippled around their group. Support, Allory made it. Why did she always assume the opposite?

“Depends on the size and thickness,” came the reply. “Fifteen seconds? Maybe twenty … I can’t really estimate, but I know I can do it. More than.”

“And for a diversion?” the Elf inquired, arching an eyebrow eagerly.

Aye. Hard to fathom how much that one loved a good scrap. She might be a fellow female creature but some things about her tall friend were impossible to understand – for this Scintillant, anyways. Put her together with the Phoenix Fae and Sabline … aha!

Allory giggled, “Well, warrior Princess, whatever could one do with fifty sneaky Chameleons, a Phoenix Fae who likes to play with fire, and a Sabrefang who’s invisible in the dark? Hard to imagine, right?”

“Burn and blast!” Xiximay chortled, slapping Allory’s shoulder so hard she yelped in pain. Not apparently noticing the effect of her blow, she added, “So, how do we apply the freeze?”

“Ash, can you help Zzuriel to use her head?”

“First time for everything,” Varzune quipped, drawing a snort of laughter from Frostbite and a much less approving response from the Phoenix Fae. “Harzune, you taking notes there, brofae? This is called innovative strategizing.”

“Shut the trap, there’s a good fellow, and let us doughty warriors sally forth to sow mayhem amongst the enemy ranks.”

There went his habit.

Ashueli gave Herotoes a ‘simmer down’ quirk of her eyebrow. What were friends for? The Chameleon scratched his neck unhappily and probably uttered a few archaic execrations beneath his breath.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Shortly, to the tune of a muffled, startled mewl from Yaarah and a gurgle of murderous anticipation from Sabline, the plan swung into chaotic motion. Wielding a Diamond Fae, the heavily disguised Elven Princess nipped off to frost the gate bolts – the beams, to be accurate, Allory realised belatedly as she peeped at the action from beneath the tarpaulin at the front of the cart through a gap held open for her by Fakori, the Purewish Fae. She made a mental note to ask about his particular Fae powers. Wishes? Could wishes really come true?

Those gate beams were thick enough to give Dragons pause. Maybe he could just wish the smaller gates open?

Meantime, the Chameleons spread out and Xiximay snuck off toward the front cart in the queue. While her dark colouration provided definite advantages in the gloom, the camouflage effect was offset by her hair and body tattoos glowing like live coals.

Allory popped up beside the Golden Purrmaine in order to see better, hiding behind his illusion to observe as Zzuriel, eyes shut to aid her concentration, had already turned a three-foot section of the first gate bar as white as winter’s own bite.

“This is going to take time,” Sabline said.

“The Marakusians are alert – maybe distracted right now, but these are no fools,” Yaarah stated, pointing to a contingent of heavily armed, green-skinned soldiers standing to the left of the gate beside an official-looking small building on wheels. Aye. Allory’s eyebrows twitched. Someone had built that small office to be wheeled aside in case of need, such as opening the immense, Giant-stopping main gates, she supposed – which most probably translated as never.

Right he was. The gate was braced with metal-reinforced beams no less than ten inches thick. Even the lethal Zzuriel was having to exert her powers to their utmost, but Allory sensed her joy in the work, a clear emotional response: ‘At last I can do something useful with my curse.’

Yaarah said, “Sabline, you and Ashueli will need to take on the soldiers, hrrr-mrrr. Can Harzune handle the bottle?”

“Most likely.”

“I suggest you steal one of those nice large sledgehammers,” he added. “There’s one standing right beside the office.”

“I like you more and more, scholar.”

This would be the part where a certain Scintillant’s cunning plan had become a touch thin on the details, one had to admit. Joining up with the Princess, Sabline briefed her rapidly. They handed Frostbite over to Harzune, who had to juggle her in his hands despite the protection of Ashueli’s armour.

“Hey, you! What are you doing there?” roared one of the soldiers.

Instant mayhem.

As if possessed by a single spirit of vengeful destruction, the Elf and the Sabrefang launched themselves at the squad of soldiers. Ashueli spun in behind Sabline’s opening burst of Dragon fire, spitting necks and wrists and knee joints with the four whirling points of her zalish blades. Astonishing precision. The Marakusians folded up around their combined assault as if struck by invisible magic. Meantime, Harzune put Zzuriel down perhaps to give his frozen fingers a chance to thaw as he smashed repeatedly at the huge bolt with his hammer. Not enough. Even when he reversed it to use the pointed end to chip out chunks of ice, his furious hacking was unable to do enough damage as quickly as they needed.

Drawing together with good discipline, the enemy soldiers pressed back hard. They were well-armoured and strong, working to cover one another as they tried to surround the Elf, whose blades moved so fast now, Allory could only follow them by the winks of silver they threw about in the uncertain lamplight – oh, and now firelight, as one of the carts erupted with a low, hungry sound of rushing fires. The Marakusian carter screamed in dismay.

Xiximay had joined the party.

“Sabline, need you at the gate!” Harzune called. “Chameleons, relieve her!”

The Elf’s whirring blades suddenly found space as unseen Chameleons slipped amongst the fray, the jabbing of their favourite weapons having an instant impact. Sabline raced back to the tall, wide gate, sizing it up for a second before she coiled, whirling the hammer over her head. She bellowed, “Make way!”

The hero grabbed the bottle in both hands and rolled aside.

CLANG!!

The major beam shattered, but the gates did not open. Sabline cursed as she dropped the hammer, wringing her paws briefly before snatching it up again. Perhaps backlash from the blow?

“Freeze the lock!” she roared.

Harzune whirled back again, almost fumbling Zzuriel in his haste – his left arm appeared to be frosted up to the elbow! Had he touched her skin by accident? Crying out in alarm, Allory finally found her wings and shot away from Yaarah’s side toward the Chameleon Fae. Behind, she heard the Felidragon yell something about a squad of Dragons incoming. They must have heard or seen the commotion; the distances were not great.

Her eyes flicked to the Princess. Ashueli moved with terrifying speed, making her foes appear clumsy, slow, incapable. She never seemed to be present for a counterstrike to land. Leaping upward, she whipped her swords out sideways and forwards simultaneously with blows too fast for even Fae eyes to follow. The Marakusians bellowed in fear and closed up their ranks, trying to huddle beneath their shields as the Elf danced over them like a one-woman wrecking team. Havoc! One against two dozen? No issue. Back to the fore. Harzune pressed Zzuriel’s forehead against the lock despite the damage to himself. The white frost had crept up to his left biceps.

“Sabline!” he gasped.

Racing toward them in a trail of scintillance, Allory smiled grimly as she suddenly became aware of that harp music playing in her soul. Again! That melody she remembered now with delightful clarity, so … inspirational.

Before her expanding, startled gaze, the white of winter frost resolved into its tiniest detail. Her eyes glinted at the tracery of cold working its way deep into metal and wood, into the foot-thick surface of the minor gate and the massive metal lock embedded in it. Exquisite. With a wailing, wintry song vibrating in her throat, she tracked Sabline’s movement as she wound up a tremendous blow with the hammer while Harzune, alert to the danger, whipped the white Fae out of harm’s way. As the hammer swung at the lock, Allory’s song struck an eerie, reverberating pitch of joy.

Sabline gave the strike her all. “BRRREEAAAKK!!”

KRRRLOONNGGG!!

So powerful was the impact, white dust and shards exploded around the hammer handle, obscuring the Sabrefang’s body for several long seconds. The cloud began to dissipate just in time for the double gates to sag and collapse backward with a ground-shaking thump. Not just the beam. Wow. That was some decent wrecking.

Sabline emerged far more white than black, her expression wavering between flummoxed and self-satisfied.

The Dragoness’ eyes flicked to Allory. Mini-shrug. It worked, right?

The Princess yelled at Yaarah to get the cart moving.

GRRAAARRRGHH!! he bellowed.

One way to get the lizards to respond. So fast did he take off, several barrels toppled off the back. Then, he began to shout at the other carters to make the most of the opportunity. Whatever was he doing? Their cart surged past the others in a wild overtaking manoeuvre. Yaarah thundered again at the lizards, making the terrified creatures put on an extra spurt of speed.

Disengaging from the Marakusian soldiers, Ashueli spun and suddenly swayed backward so far, her sable curls almost touched the ground. Oh! Sabline had hurled her hammer at the soldiers! Despite Ash’s best effort, the sledgehammer’s solid metal head pinged the royal snout on its way past, before smashing into the squad with a satisfying crunch. Ash pinned Sabline with an incredulous glare. The Felidragon held up a paw in apology. Crimson spurted into the Elf’s left hand.

As Yaarah swerved the cart toward the gate, the companions largely abandoned the fight in favour of flight. Somehow, they got aboard in one piece, despite that the rear end jounced nearly three feet into the air as the Felidragon rammed the wheels over the fallen gates. Ash and Sabline, already having found positions in the cart’s rear, heaved several large crates overboard to add to the confusion.

“That’ll lighten the load,” smirked the Dragoness.

The Elf agreed, finishing her sentence, “And snarl up a few of those fools. Over here, Sparkles!”

Left behind? She was terrible in battle. Distracted by everything. Shaking off the spectacle of two carts and four Dragons bearing down upon the suddenly undersized gate area at speed, Allory streaked over to the team, only to be pushed onward at once by a tan hand and a black paw. “Help Harzune.”

Ashueli and Sabline shared an incredulous stare.

Thinking alike? Giggle.

She had just landed beside Harzune in the middle of the cart, realising that four Chameleons played pass-the-girlfae with Zzuriel’s armour-wrapped bottle – the bitterest cold steamed off it once more – when all eyes by some coincidence rose as one to regard the gap they had charged through. A smouldering orange streak hurtled into one of the discarded crates which lay right atop the fallen gates. At the instant of impact, it ignited, setting the crate alight. A beautiful, eagle-like creature made of pure flame erupted from the pyre, voicing the haunting shriek of a bird of prey. Yet in the instant it began to swivel toward the fleeing cart, the magic it commanded guttered and failed.

Behind the Phoenix Fae loomed a huge crimson Dragon, its throat gleaming as the fire gathering deep in its chest intensified and began to swirl eagerly. That could only mean one thing. Fireball.

Ashueli vaulted out of the cart. Rising flames silhouetted the Elf’s form as she sprinted across the gap with astounding speed. Impossible speed – surely, surely that had to be magic? If it was, Allory did not recognise what type. The incoming fireball, three feet in diameter, seemed to blossom in the shattered doorway. Two carts thundered beneath the hovering Dragon, bent on a collision course with each other and the gateposts.

The Princess did not falter for a millisecond.

As the dark, smoking form of Xiximay slumped back into the conflagration she had started, Ashueli scooped her up and dived aside in a single seamless movement. KAABOOM!! The fireball detonated against the crate, whooshing upward in a pyre twenty-five feet tall. The oncoming lizards and their carters faltered and slammed together in a terrible collision that shook the ground, blocking the gap almost entirely. Flames licked around the wreckage, spreading rapidly.

Even departing, Allory flinched at the wave of heat. Ash rolled smoothly over her tucked shoulder, protecting the unconscious Phoenix in the cradle of her arms, and sprang back to her feet in a single, seamless bound.

“Unreal,” Sabline murmured as the Elf’s long legs ate up the ground back toward the fleeing cart. Ash juggled the still-smoking Faerie from hand to hand. “The speed she moves …”

Allory turned to her hero. “So, Herotoes. How are we feeling?”

His jaw clenched, betraying pain he would never admit to. “Pretty chilled. Why?”

“How’s about we don’t knock that arm, alright?”

Harzune nodded. “That would be more than a chip off the old block, eh?”

Now he was joking like Varzune? He must be far more worried than he let on – and that made her, in turn, realise that maybe sometimes, heroes could not give themselves permission to be unheroic. Allory summoned up her other Allory, the one who stamped holes in granite.

She growled, “I’ll see to that arm. Now.”

His yellow eyebrows peaked, but the hero moved over to her. “Thank you.”