“What it means,” he said, “is that you probably need to do what the council has commissioned you to do and lop off the head of the monster. After that, we can figure out next steps.”
“No one said anything about next steps,” I said.
There are always next steps,” Faelix said. “Seriously. The monster is only one part of the problem.”
“The sprites are another part of the problem,” I added.
“No. Not necessarily. The sprites may be an indicator of other problems and since there is some correlation between monster and the sprites disappearing for the forest, it isn’t outside the realm of possibility that they are somehow connected.”
My head started to spin, which was saying something because I’m not only really attractive I’m also really smart, remember I escaped the faerie circle. Genius level smarts. Faelix, however, seemed on a different level.
“How do you know any of this?” I asked. While I didn’t have any real idea of what faerie culture was like inside their coverts, nor did I have any idea what it was like to be a male faerie, I was getting the idea that Faelix was talking about things no male faerie should know anything about.
“I spent a lot of time in the library and listening at doors and in corners,” he’s said. “Given enough time, you pick up on things and then the mind mixes it all together and starts to work through different ideas and before you know it you’ve got theories that need to be tested and questions that need more than guessing and ….”
Faelix trailed off.
I thought I understood where he was coming from, not wanting to really assert oneself when everyone else had dismissed them based solely on sex or appearance. At the same time, I was working against a deadline and needed to figure out what the best way to use Faelix and his ideas to my ad manage. I didn’t think he was wrong, but his ideas didn’t really pick up where killing the monster left off and the best anyone could come up with was remove head from body and see what happened next.
We continued to talk, my intent was to investigate and question as much of what Faelix was willing to share and discuss and explain, when needed, as I could before I had to bond with a sword through what very well might be murder.
Murder didn’t have the same effect on me as it would on others. One of the truths in my existence is a radically different view of mortality and morality. Regardless of what Ethan proved to be, I’d go on living, and this would be an impossibly small blip in a long life. If I ever thought of it again, it would be contextual and only as a reminder that I’d done something. My conscience wouldn’t be bothered, and my future actions wouldn’t be changed.
As I sense the change from false dawn toward dawn, I got up and pulled the satchel ocross my body. I put my notebook and pen and ink inside, though not hidden, and picked up the sword. It was lighter than I remembered from not very long ago, and with the scabbard in one hand I stepped out of the tent, Faelix flying up to and landing on my satchel, before crossing the short distance to Ethan’s structure. With the slowly increasing light of day, the façade seemed to fade away for a bit and I could see what Faelix and the others had tried to explain to me.
I moved into position next to the opening and waited.
Quietly steeling myself against what I knew was about to happen, I grabbed the handle of the sword with my right hand and prepared myself to move faster than humanly possible.
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Standing next to Ethan’s structure and for the first time, I heard noises that can only be described as well-maintained and oiled machinery. I didn’t know for certain as things like that didn’t widely exist before I’d been trapped. But the sound of metal on metal, the vibrations of movement, were definitely distinct. Whatever was behind the entry wasn’t normal and it wasn’t an aspect of the forest or someone camping and doing research. As far as I could tell.
Within a hare's breath, Ethan opened the structure and as he stepped out and turned to look at me, already in motion with the sword coming free of its scabbard and the blade signing through the air, he had just enough time to say, “Don’t do this,” before his head was separated from his body and rolled across the loam of the forest floor.
As I’d swung the sword and removed Ethan’s head from his body, I deftly moved away from the body and spray of blood that always follows a beheading and watched, in slow motion and in real time, things fall apart. Ethan’s head came away clean, a lot like a guillotine, and there was blood, but in addition to the blood there was blue light and then red and yellow and orange and as it hit the ground I could see the red and yellow and orange suddenly spread to the dry underbrush and burst into flames. The fire didn’t last long as the loam was moist, but it lasted long enough to immolate the head leaving something disgusting behind.
Faelix had launched himself off of my satchel the instant I’d started to swing and I watched as he followed the head to the ground and then leapt away from the spout of flames. Even through the fire, the faerie was curious about what Ethan was and why he was a monster and for the first time I realized he wasn’t human and was really something unnatural and dangerous. I just didn’t know how because what I was seeing didn’t align with my experience or vast knowledge of almost everything.
My attention, split between head and Faelix and the body. The neck had as expected a spout of blood, but the lights didn’t seem to follow the same pattern and when it hit the ground it didn’t catch fire.
By this point, Faelix was curious about the body and I can’t say that I blamed him, but as he approached the body he was brought up short.
“Don’t approach that,” Moment said in a commanding voice.
“Damnit,” Faelix said and immediately retreated to my satchel and slipping in under the flap.
“I had nothing to do with, uh, with him,” I said.
I was, obviously, not referring to Ethan’s now very unmoving body and the weird remnants of his head.
Along with a Moment was what looked to me like a small army of faeries in armor and holding swords and bows and arrows and pikes. They surrounded both Ethan’s body and head as well as me and I was guessing Faelix in my satchel. I didn’t want to have to fight them, since I knew my powers and magic weren’t suddenly back, I was guessing that would happen in a sudden inrush of power and then me exploding with pent-up desire to use magic, which in turn would change everything around me. Since that didn’t happen and Moment was still hovering in the air not far from my face I held up my hands in what I understood to be a universal gesture of please don’t attack me I’m not your enemy and I think you already know that.
She didn’t attack, nor did any of the other faeries, though not attacking wasn’t necessarily a better thing because she also looked about as mad and ready to burst as anyone I’d ever seen before. Prior to being here, I would’ve turned that back on her, the anger and frustration, but given how well things had gone over the previous evening and the return of my satchel and the promise not to trap me ever again, I thought it was best to just stand back and let what was going to happen happen.
Which, in this case, most likely had more to do with Faelix than me. Even if the faeries somehow wanted to pin his escape on me. I don’t know how that could happen, especially since Faelix was literally the first male faerie I’d ever encountered, but stranger mind boggling mental gymnastics had been attempted on me before. And I wasn’t particularly interested in repeating the past. Not right now.
Along with the faeries there were the gnomes and Borrowind seemed eager to show up and see what was going on. Bal was there, alone, along with Olga and others of the animals that had been at the council meeting. All of whom seemed pleased and confused.
Being pleased was an extension of Ethan being beheaded, which made sense. They’d were pretty insistent However, the confused I didn’t quite get until I, again, realized nothing had changed as far as I could tell when it came to the magic.
“What happened?” Borrowind asked.