"From among the four [Fae, White, Black, and Arcane] magics, Fae is the most sweeping in its applications. It is also the most difficult to acquire. Even for the elves, it is well documented that a tribesman can only wield the magic belonging to their tribe and their god. For anyone without a Fae soul, wielding Fae magic requires a catalyst made from the stones and metals of that realm to bridge the gap between the True and the Fae.”
-Fundamentals of Magic Theory,
Shiminsmir Cleffoot, PhD, et al.
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MELLARK
The group headed onward with Mell in the lead. Her eyes may have been seeking breaks in the bright foliage, but her mind was on Gale. She has a connection to Dara. That was the one certainty in what Fenn had said. He seemed willing–even eager–to upend modern magic theory. Mell was not. The magic Gale wielded required a connection, either a natural one or a catalyst.
She hadn’t noticed any catalyst.
If she was right, then Gale was a Wood Elf wielding Dara’s magic, and her conjurations should be magical creations rather than summons. It was the most logical conclusion, even if it was an insult to Galendria’s “good standing,” or some such nonsense. Mell was getting the impression that most of what she knew of Gale was not flattering to her Etnfrandian standing. Well, she liked her this way: adventurous with a touch of spunk.
The young she-elf hovered beside Fenn, her rich, coppery tonality a compliment to the sun-speckled forest. Mell smiled to herself and pushed through a patch of leaves erected on thin stalks, which clung to her as she passed. Finally, on the other side, a grove of narrow trees sporting long, shining leaves stood before them. Unlike the gnarled and bent one that comprised most of this forest, these had smooth bark broken by rings of spines where the leaves had once grown. She came to a halt, pleased that the hunt had ended. Fenn had been right, these were the trees. Near the top, clusters of pink fruit huddled in bunches, as if afraid.
Afraid, she could see, of the strange winged creatures that swarmed in the treetops. They were not entirely unlike the club-tailed ones Fenn had dubbed clebshoth, but these had almost no tail at all, and their wings were spread like webs over the bone structure beneath, decorated by an angular texture as much like overlapping scales as feathers. They snatched the fruit in their long snouts, ripping them between sharp teeth. Mell cringed.
“Well, I think we found the fruit,” she pointed up, “but does anyone have any clue what those… dinosaur-bat-things are?”
Fenn pushed his glasses up his nose and leaned toward them. “Ah,” he shook a finger in the air, “those. Those would be the reason the pixies won’t harvest the fruit themselves. They're an omnivorous reptile in the shoth family. Well, a Faerie reptile, which is not the same thing as a Trueplane one. These are warm-blooded and tend to–”
Mell shot him a warning look and he cut short his ramble. I suppose I did ask.
“Anyway, they were once used to drive out especially troublesome pixie colonies. There was a whole comedy about it in Olyvaer’s Collection of Fae Folk Tales.”
“Omnivorous, huh?” She grimaced. “I don’t really care to get bit myself.” She rubbed her hand at the thought of those needle-like teeth boring into her skin.
“I doubt they will bother us,” Fenn approached the bottom of the tree. “They don’t seem to mind us now.”
He was right. None of the creatures had spared them a glance as they squawked to one another. Still, she had her doubts.
Fenn reached up and gripped the trunk, prepared to shimmy up the tree. It was over twice his height, but no more than thrice. He may be able too…
“Not so fast.” Krid gently pulled him away by the collar of his tunic in an undignified gesture. “Stop volunteering for danger; that’s what I’m here for. I will bend it so one of you can cut down a clump.”
Mell suppressed a smile. The Captain made a valid point, but by Lorthen was he direct.
Krid scanned the grove, then shifted to a shorter tree a few feet over. Watching him reach up felt like watching a snake uncoil itself, his form unfurling to a surprising length. He grasped it as high as he could and pulled. At first, the tree bent easily, then it resisted. The reptilian bats squealed and screeched, flashing their teeth as they shifted around the tree for balance. But they made no move toward him. Mell chewed her lip, anxious. Krid worked his hands higher up and pulled again, this time beginning to lift himself just slightly off the ground.
Crack. The sound erupted from the tree as it bent a few more inches.
At once, the whole forest attacked. The sky darkened to near dusk as the trees creaked and crowded around. They loomed overhead with branches pointing toward them in menacing wrath. A sudden wind kicked up, and the flying creatures took to the air. They screeched and swirled in a swarm around them. Gale’s scream split through the rush of wind.
Mell dropped and raised her hands over her head, the dread of those tiny teeth possessing her. She should have feared the talons. They pulled at her cloak and hair, tearing at them. Cuts burned like splinters, and her heart rattled inside her chest. Nearby, Krid growled, and Mell heard a creak and a thud.
It stopped as suddenly as it started. The trees straightened. The wind slowed. The critters circled slowly, then landed in the treetops. Mell took a deep, calming breath and surveyed the others. Syrdin, ever one to appear in dire moments, stood beside her, zheir daggers held in a defensive stance. Krid had released the tree, and it had settled upright again. Galendria was unharmed, huddled in a squat on the ground, hands over her delicate ears.
Mell shifted her gaze over to Fenn, who remained frozen in hesitation. He met her eyes. His were wide open, like her mouth. His expression conveyed, Was that what I think it was?
Mell nodded, closing her mouth. Collective Sentience. The forest itself had reacted to the pain of one tree.
“What in the Arsdark was that?” Syrdin spat.
Krid growled again. “Are those birds magic, or did I just find a dust devil in a forest?”
“Well, technically everything here is magical. That is the nature of the Faeworld.” Though his hands shook as he straightened his glasses, Fenn’s words were a little too matter-of-fact. He was met with glares. “But I believe this was an excellent example of how the interconnection between the living creatures within the Fae can behave a lot like an anamalian nervous system, causing a pain reflex when any one part is hurt.”
“And in Allspeach?” Krid chuckled.
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
“You gave the forest a boo boo, and it didn’t like it.” Syrdin’s tone was serious, but Mell knew from experience that zhe was half-joking. Zhe turned to Fenn. “So, no more hurting or breaking things?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “nothing alive.”
Unfortunately for them, everything was alive.
“But Fenn, what if something hurts us first?” Concern laced Galendria’s question.
Fenn opened his mouth, but no words came out. “Ermm.”
Mell could guess what Galendria feared. “If those pixies hurt anyone again, we will hurt them back. If the forest doesn’t like it, well tough.” Mell gave Fenn a hard look. “Same goes for anything else.” She faced the yuka trees, then turned to the members of their group. Their eyes were on her, not Fenn.
Fine. She nodded Syrdin toward the tree. “Do you mind?”
“Right.” Without another word, Syrdin leapt between two trees, using one to launch zhemself higher on the other. Zhe reached the canopy in a few bounds and pulled a dagger. Deft as a leopard, zhe chopped down two fruit clusters while Fenn and Krid scrambled to catch them as they fell. No wind. No towering trees.
One of the reptilian creatures screeched and swooped at Syrdin. Zhe ducked it easily and dropped down from the tree, landing crouched on both feet. “There. Got them.”
“Impressive!” Krid might have clapped if his hands were not full of fruit.
Mell sighed in relief. “Thanks Syd.” That could have gone much worse. “Let’s head back.”
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GALENDRIA
Gale thought the sun sat lower in the sky, even just a tiny bit, when they strode toward the Pixie hollow, their newfound yuka bunches in hand. Fenn fidgeted as they approached, his steps slow and halting. She couldn’t blame him. She felt a sense of dread about it, too.
Then they crossed the line of bright mushrooms. Her mind was taken, for just a moment, with the magical beauty of the hollow: the loveliness of the low trees, the elegance of the sunlight as it dappled the mossy ground, and the warmth of the faint glow emitted by the pixies. Then she recalled the danger of it, shaking off the strange euphoric feeling. Fenn hesitated, and Mell took the lead.
Gale didn’t know the language, but she recognized the greeting from an old Art song. One didn’t need to speak a language to sing it.
“Respectable pixies,” Mell called out in Faerish, “mysch kennov dea yon yuka.” She held aloft the bundle of fruits. A dozen or so of the tiny terrors zipped out, pulling the cluster from Mell’s hand. Gale shivered. These things may look cute, but… she peeked at Fenn, eying the blood stain on his chest. He was smiling dumbly, gazing at the pixies.
“They’re so beautiful,” he breathed in awe. “I should sketch them!” He pulled out his notebook and began working.
“Fenn?” Gale stepped closer to him, leaning around from his side. He did not acknowledge her.
She glanced around. Mell was still conversing with the pixies in Faerish. Syrdin was once again nowhere in sight. Krid stood at Fenn’s shoulder. She peered into Fenn’s face. His pupils were dilated and his lips were curved into a smile, far too broad.
“Krid,” Gale whispered, “I think something’s wrong with Fenn.”
The giant lizard-man didn’t respond. When she turned to him, his eyes, normally slitted like a cat’s, were round and almost entirely black. Just the rim hinted at green. Her hands began to tremble. She placed one on Fenn’s arm, gently disrupting his drawing.
He beamed at her over his book. “Aren’t they just amazing, Gale?”
A pixie–the butterfly one from before–flew up and began to parade herself on the edge of his page, turning her hips in a bawdy display. He held up the book and giggled like a shameless child, then started speaking to her. Gale only understood the words “beautiful” and “graceful,” but it was enough to know he was flattering her. The pixie flew up into a little spin, giggling more. Gale’s face burned. What, has he been fox-nipped, now? And by a pixie!
More of them flew down from the trees and started circling him. Krid, too, was agape at the pixies. His mouth was open and he seemed to be breathing a smell.
Gale shook Fenn’s arm. “Fenn, these things tried to kill you earlier. What are you doing?”
“Relax, Gale, these creatures are too magnificent to be dangerous.” That euphoric smile only broadened.
“Mell,” Gale called, her panic rising, “I think we have a problem.”
The pixies danced about Fenn’s head and zipped around his person.
“Just a second, they’re giving me directions.” Mell sounded businesslike, not so much as turning her head.
Some of the pixies began to lift Fenn’s glasses. Gale swiped at them and waved them off. “No! Stop that!” Anger began to mingle with her fear, alongside a bitterness she had no name for.
The pixies released a cacophony of laughter, and though she couldn’t be sure, Gale thought she saw one blow a raspberry at her.
Fenn gasped, offended, and turned to Gale. “Why would you do that? They were just having a bit of fun!”
She gawked at him for a moment, overcome by the sting of that bitterness. Then the realization struck her, and though she had never seen it done, she knew.
“Mell, now! We must go! Fenn and Krid have been charmed!”
“What?” Mell spun.
Syrdin appeared from behind a tree. “You heard Flower Power, it’s time to go.” Pixies scattered in surprise as zhe grabbed Krid’s elbow. “Help me pull him out of here.”
While Mell gave a polite bow to the pixies and joined Syrdin, Gale tugged Fenn by the arm that held his notebook. “We’re done playing with the nice pixies, time to go back to camp.” She tried to sound gentle, but when he didn’t move, she heaved him with all her strength.
“But I’d like to draw a few more of them.” He resisted her pull, trying to bring the page to his pencil. Gale glanced down at his drawing. Where there should’ve been a little elf-like sprite with insect wings, she saw a goddess of an elf with magnificent, feathered wings and gorgeous, flowing locks that almost covered her. Gale flushed with a mix of horror and shame. Indecent. He’d have time to find that embarrassing later. Now, surrounded by the shrill laughter of the powerful little casters dancing about them, she heaved him to the edge of the hollow.
He fought against her, scrabbling and flailing. An elbow jabbed her. It bruised her sternum and with it, her feelings as it knocked her back. She nearly let go, and the sudden shift in her weight sent Fenn tumbling. She swung him back, and he fell to the ground just outside the mushroom line. He blinked and shook his head. Anger clenched her fists, pain. Fear. Hurt.
He didn’t know what he was doing, she tried to reassure herself.
She spared a glance for the others. Mell and Syrdin had managed to drag Krid out. It seemed he had struggled, too, and much more effectively. Syrdin was holding Krid’s sword, and one of his axes was in his hand. He took Mell’s order to leave easily.
A pixie wailed her disappointment and tossed her glittering dust at Fenn. Gale stepped in the way and felt a wave of that euphoria hit her. The world glowed like amber lamps at night: golden, warm. The pretty pixie beckoned her invitingly. No. She held her head as the feeling clawed at her, then released.
“What’s going on?” Fenn was blinking at her from the ground, his glasses askew.
“I’m getting you out of here,” she pulled him up.
He no longer resisted, but he did not follow quickly either. He looked around, feet barely moving. “What happened?”
“Later!” Galendria spat. Through tear-blurred eyes, she could see pixies hovering across the edge of their village, eager. Whether they were eager to catch the last of their entertainment, or to follow, she did not care to find out. “Run!”
She finally pulled Fenn into a trot. One of the pixies tossed a little spear at them, and Gale squeaked in fright–much to the pixies’ pleasure. To the sound of their laughter, she doubled her pace. Fenn in tow, she rushed headlong into thickets of underbrush. Thanks to Beauty, the pixies did not follow.