Murtoa exits the trunk winder, the caterpillar-like vehicle that specializes in travel through the great forest. He finds Gyrryth, mostly naked, as the lizardman scrubs himself down under the hose. It’s water from the tanks in the vehicle, so it’s clean water, but it’s not heated. Still, the spellshot is contentedly bathing. He notices Murtoa, stating, “Forgive my dressed-down state, Sir Murtoa…”

“No need. I’m no inquisitor.”

Gyrryth chuckles warmly, “Indeed. I appreciate your hospitable nature, my friend.”

Mury nods, “Same.” He looks around calmly, asking, “Maerin and Schieranna aren’t back yet?”

Gyrryth pauses his shower for a moment, replying, “I have not seen them. Though, I don’t imagine the Great Spirit would inform me.”

Murtoa sighs. “We’re going to have to load the hoppers if we want to keep the boilers lit. Either we do a circle, or we’ll need to…”

“Mmm… After just bathing, it would seem a shame to do such a laborious task.”

Mury nods. “My thoughts exactly.”

Gyrryth suggests as he turns off the hose and begins coiling it, “I do believe, though, particularly from above, the smoke from the scrubber should be visible enough. If nothing else, both of them should be able to follow the smell if we do not end up here again.”

The unorthodox knight nods, “That’ll work. Let’s see if Coco is ready to move.”

Gyrryth nods. “I shall make a final pass and ensure we have collected our-...”

“-RRYYYYYY!” The two silence and listen, searching for the source of the voice.

“MURY! MURY MURY!” A breeze sweeps by the two, carrying the voice, though the speaker catches up quickly, smacking into Murtoa’s visor with a ‘clunk’. However, the fairy -or rather- spirit, immediately recovers her senses and begins frantically explaining. “Mury! Mury! There was a sky and the bird but the sun and the air but we blew and the smoke and whooosh! But it swished, and we flew but it came and we hid but then you left and we looked but when I…!”

Murtoa and Gyrryth stare at her, but she’s speaking too rapidly and incoherently to make complete sense of.

Coco walks down the ramp, grumbling, “Oi, we goin’ or wha’?”

Schieranna continues rambling, “But it wasn’t my fault and I tried but magic and the gone and-...”

The teen approaches, “Wha’ got her all in a huff?”

“Please! Listen! I-... and the-... but the whoosh!”

Just as Murtoa starts to say, “Calm-...”

“Where’s Maerin?” asks Coco sourly.

This halts Schieranna. Her eyes water, and she whimpers, “I-... It wasn’t… I didn’t… It wasn’t my fault! Please!”

“WHERE’S THE SOGGY BAE!?” shouts Coco. She grabs Schieranna, snarling, “WHERE IS SHE!?”

Schieranna sobs, “I’m sorrrry! I-I-I looked away f-f-for only a moment to tr-try to find you, but you were gone… a-and… wh-when I looked back… Sh-she was gone!” Schieranna sobs, and she presents Maerin’s flask.

Gyrryth states the obvious, “We… have not moved…”

Murtoa gently takes the flask, though, studying it for a moment. He states almost facetiously, “It seems she got to have some, at least.”

Coco snarls, “This is serious! ‘Specially if she soggy in’er thinkin’ blob! YOU lost her!” The teen turns her anger back to Schieranna, “You were supposed to pr-!”

“PLEASE DON’T SAY IT! Please! I-I-I still have so much time! Please, I’ll help her! I swear!”

“YOU PROMISED NOTHIN’ WOULD HAPPEN!”

“I KNOW!” Schieranna slumps. “I know… But, it happened so quickly. A-And… I… she doesn’t have… m-... magic…”

Coco shakes Schieranna as she shouts, “SHE TRICKED HER WISH ON A BAD GOOB!”

Schieranna sobs covering her eyes. “I’m sorry! Please… I-I’ll do anything! Please!”

The glyph. Use the glyph.

The voice comes from within, and Schieranna looks up. “H-Who said that?” Her eyes widen. “Th-The glyph!” Schieranna darts out of Coco’s hands, facing Gyrryth for once. “Use your glyph to find her!”

“Of course!”

“Before that,” states Murtoa. “Calmly tell us what chased you.”

“I-I don’t know!”

“Describe it.”

“It had… eyes like diamonds… l-like the beetle! A-And it had… um… Se-... Eight… Six? Legs? I can’t remember! It had more legs than us!”

“Scales or an exoskeleton?” asks the warrior as he takes a look into his gear bag.

“Exoskeleton. B-But, it left! And, Maerin was still in our hiding place. There’s no way it could fit!”

“Well,... We’re fortunate it wasn’t scales. Paesstokker would be problematic.”

Gyrryth nods. “And soldiers would be able to reach a fairy in most places, I would think.”

Murtoa nods. “Which means, whatever took Maerin may still have her alive.”

Coco backhands his chest sharply, hissing, “You say tha’ like it’s optional.”

Murtoa replies objectively. “I’m not god. There are situations where the best we can hope for is vengeance. And vengeance has a poor return.” He looks at Gyrryth, “Is there a way to pinpoint when we’re getting close? I’d prefer not to arrive without knowing what has her.”

Gyrryth replies with a head shake, “Not with the glyph I prepared. Usually, a triplex is prepared, and a special apparatus is needed.”

Murtoa nods, and Coco growls, “Let’s just go!”

Murtoa instructs her, “Take the helm. We’ll clean up quickly and join you.”

The four quickly do their parts, boarding the winder and joining Coco in the cockpit as she begins driving towards the direction of the glyph. Murtoa says to Schieranna, “We need to know where you were when she was taken.”

Schieranna nods. “I-I’ll point out the tree…” She looks around nervously, trying to make sure she doesn’t make another mistake.

Wait! Don’t drive straight at it. Like the Solaghoul!

Schieranna, realizing it has to be Lykha, says quickly, “W-Wait? Don’t drive straight at it… Like the solagoo?”

“Tricksie?” asks Coco as she drives.

Gyrryth says with amusement, “She dare not fail us even while behind a veil.”

Schieranna puffs herself up, saying quickly, “What does it even mean!?”

Murtoa replies calmly, “She’s telling us to simply not drive straight at it, and to hold heading as much as we can. As we get closer, the angle of the tracking spell will change.”

“You got all of that out of that nonsense?”

Murtoa chuckles, and Gyrryth and Coco discuss the best heading. The human warrior replies to the spirit in Lykha’s body, “Of course. Lykha is a part of our team. And, Maerin is as well." Schieranna looks down solemnly, but Murtoa says gently, "She didn't recall you."

The spirit looks up at him, and he adds, "Lykha is extending you trust. She knows you're more powerful than all of us." Murtoa then says on another subject, "I'm going to make sure the winch cannons are armed and primed. We may need to climb."

Coco taunts sourly, “Don’ get sticky, Traita.”

Mury looks at her for a moment. He replies, “I won’t.” He climbs up through a hatch in the back of the cockpit to the exterior of the vehicle, carefully inspecting the turrets on top of the cockpit, as well as the cable reels and winch motors.

Schieranna, however, is left deep in thought by his statement. Because the contract is woven through magic, it only takes a simple violation and an accusation of such to revoke the contract, meaning if Lykha simply declared that Schieranna didn’t protect Maerin, they would switch. And, even from her entrapment in the spirit prison, Lykha is providing assistance in a bigger way than the spirit could imagine. The spirits are very powerful. Few dispute that, even given their current predicament. However, Schieranna has never had a ‘team’ before, and yet these five people, bound together by little more than fate, implicitly trust each other so well, an incomplete thought is complete to all of them.

And, amidst that level of camaraderie and trust, Lykha has extended a hand of trust to Schieranna in hopes of testing her. If the spirits are worthy of being trusted with Lykha’s most precious commodity -her friends-, then the exchange -the trust- can continue.

Schieranna clenches her fists and psyches herself up. She can muster the force of nature giving breath to the world. She may be hindered by her reliance upon her abilities to not fail, but she will still have them at this team’s disposal.

Schieranna perks up when she recognizes the woodland around them. “There! That’s the tree! Murmur! The tree! It’s that one!” He peeks down inside to see where she’s pointing, and Coco directs the vehicle to the open space near it. Murtoa states as he grabs the hatch to climb back down inside, “Good. We’ll search for clues-”

Without warning, the whole vehicle takes a nosedive, and the team is shaken around. Fortunately, Coco is buckled into her seat, but Gyrryth slams against the dashboard and roof as he tumbles through the cockpit, managing to keep himself somewhat under control.

Schieranna screams, ducking as the ceiling drops towards her, though her hovering flight otherwise protects her from the violent shaking.

Of course, the fourth member of the team currently present was still outside of the vehicle, and the hatch is currently closed, but not locked.

They can hear scraping and groaning around the vehicle as sand, mud, and leaves splatter the windshield, and thumping on the roof of the cockpit indicates Mury is still up there -if barely-. The hatch wheel suddenly whirls, locking the hatch down, and then scraping follows thuds as he apparently climbs up the back of the trunk winder.

Coco screams, “What was tha’!”

Gyrryth shakes his head, trying to clear the daze and Schieranna looks around frantically. What happened? What does she do? What is Mury doing?

“Coco, stop the tracks. I’m dropping the anchor.”

Coco snatches the radio handset, shouting at it, “You daf’, Love!? I lose turns onn’e pitwall, we be huffin’ san’ fas’er ‘an’e grifspider!”

“Do it! Trust me!”

Coco sighs, grumbling as she shuts down the forward momentum of the tracks. The vehicle groans and creaks as something seems to swirl and slide around the vehicle’s cockpit.

Schieranna asks desperately, “What is this? Mury!? Mury, can you hear me!?”

Gyrryth replies calmly as he massages his head, “It would seem we’ve found another of the forest’s traps.”

“I was peepin’ for a longoon the whole run!” Coco retorts defensively as she all but dangles from her seat from the current angle of the cockpit.

“It’s quicksand. Much more difficult to discern than a river.”

Murtoa’s voice comes over the radio again, “Okay, the back segments are holding for now. Give me a minute to get to the rear winch cannons.”

“What do I do, Mury!?” cries out the spirit.

Coco replies gently, “Haf’ta click the squeeze.” She holds the radio microphone up and holds the button down for the radio. Schieranna hovers sheepishly closer, asking, “M-Murmur, is… is there anything I should be doing?”

“Fairies are sensitive to air content. I assume you are too. Let me know if the air starts to taste thin. I’m keeping the winder sealed so it doesn’t flood. The air will also keep the winder from sinking as much… hopefully.”

“HOPEFULLY!?” snarls Coco.

“Just stay calm. You’ll use more air if you’re agitated.”

Schieranna looks at Gyrryth who is nodding in agreement as he takes a seat on the floor. Gyrryth says philosophically, “Few situations are aided by panic.”

Schieranna asks nervously, “W-What about Maerin?”

There’s a moment of pause, and Schieranna hovers to Coco again. Coco holds up the radio, and Schieranna asks, “Murmur, what about Maerin?”

“She’s too light to have sunk into the pit. You would have noticed her screaming. We’ll be out in a minute. Coco, the cannons are both loaded. Aim and fire at the nearest tree to the one on the winder’s right.”

Gyrryth stands up as Coco replies, “Onn’e Love!”

The drakyk says quietly, “Allow me. Be prepared to follow further instructions.”

Coco nods. “Aye.”

Gyrryth heads to the back, and Schieranna hovers briefly after him, but then hovers towards Coco. She hesitantly and indecisively bounces between one option or the other. In neither case can she do much of anything.

She settles on staying in the cockpit, asking softly, “Does… Lykha usually find herself in this position?”

“Wha’s tha’?” asks Coco as she makes some adjustments on the panel in front of her. One of the gauges centers its needle, while another tilts a little from the angle -a compass-.

“I don’t… I feel… useless.”

“Aye, Tricksie brains it. Bu’she wrong. I can’ne make fire from me fingers or fly like a zipbug. She done ran away into ye’ hidey boggle when she had’ta choose ‘tween me and ‘Bando. Says somethin’, that.”

A boom fires from the back, shaking the vehicle briefly, and the cockpit tilts a little.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Coco shouts into the radio, “Oi! We sinkin’ ‘Bando! Get us out!”

“I know. Quicksand is no joke. I need you to run the winch in short bursts and run the tracks as slow as you can in reverse.”

“Slow!? You think I wanna spend me whole life in’nis tube!?”

“Please trust me, Coco. If you try to go too fast, you’ll either sink more or rip the winder apart.”

Coco grimaces and hesitates. She glances at Schieranna.

“Aye, Love. Goin’ slow.” She tells Schieranna, “Zip quick an’ tell Gyrryth. Winch in short run.”

Schieranna nods, “Got it.” She darts to the back with all of her speed, though she notices something that she can’t put into words just yet. Anxiousness, maybe? She finds the drakyk, and she swallows her pride and contempt. “Spellcaster, Coco says to tell you ‘Winch in short run’.”

Gyrryth nods. “Indeed. Thank you, Great Spirit.”

She crosses her arms, saying sourly, “I don’t need your praise.”

“Of course not. I merely doubt you would accept my apology. Regardless, I shall endeavor to give a proper one as soon as possible.”

“A-… Apology?” asks the spirit confused.

Gyrryth nods. “Ignorance is not a fine excuse, but I was ignorant of the true nature of the spirits and the magic I have been fortunate to wield. I shall sing the praises of the spirits who have saved my life many times, and request rather than utilize.”

She looks down, fidgeting. “O-... Okay… See that you do, spellcaster, and I might forgive you.”

“I long for such a day, Great Spirit.”

She nods. “I-I’m going to check on Coco. Sh-Short runs.”

Gyrryth nods, cycling the switch intermittently.

Schieranna flies with a more calm pace back to the cockpit.

The anxiousness doesn’t seem to leave this time.

Coco is grumbling, “Sand, wata, monsties… Great Forest? More like Great-...” She notices Schieranna and stops, stating placidly, “‘Bando said to just keep doing this.”

The spirit nods. A tangy, ashen smell finds her nose, though, along with the anxiousness. At first, she wants to put it out of her mind, since the vehicle runs on fire. However, the anxiousness picks at a statement Mury made; I’m keeping the winder sealed so it doesn’t flood.

“Air! The air’s getting thin… A-And smoke. Tell Mury!”

Coco fumbles nervously with the microphone, gripping it and saying, “‘Bando! Bogglesly gabbin’ the air’s thin and smoke!”

“Boggle-sly?” asks the spirit, confused. “Is that supposed to be me?”

Murtoa’s voice answers, “Hang tight. Schieranna, when I tell you to, run a steady air current up along the overhead. The burner might flash over, so it’s imperative you keep the air current running. Understood?”

“U-Understood. B-But, I can’t create air. I can only manipulate it.”

“I suspected so. That’s why you must focus the current along the ceiling. Fresh air should return to you via the floor, as long as you keep the air stream strong all the way out. Don’t try to pull air. Let it come to you.”

“I understand! I’m ready!”

“Opening the hatch now. If you see fire, start immediately.”

“Got it!”

Schieranna can feel a slight pop in her ears, and she knows the rear hatch must be broken of its seal. She watches intently up the hall.

“Okay, the hatch is open. Start sending air. Strong current along the ceiling.”

Schieranna nods to no one in particular, and she does as instructed. She uses her spiritual magic to send the air around her in a tight stream along the ceiling with a slight swirl. The swirl should help keep the air tight along the ceiling, preventing inadvertent mixing if the burner does in fact flash over and begin burning the fuel in the hopper.

Coco holds her helmet as her hair flips around wildly, and the air circulates quickly. The temperature seems to drop a little, and the anxiousness relents from Schieranna as she can taste the more natural air from outside. She didn’t even realize the air tasted that much different in the winder, but she can tell a distinct difference now.

And, sure enough, she’s able to keep a good current going with fresh air.

Murtoa’s voice comes across, “Good work. Doesn’t look like the burner is burning out, but if you can, keep going. Coco, this pace is good. I’ll keep the hatch open for now. Let me know if there are any other problems.”

“Aye, Love.”

Coco teases Schieranna, “Still feelin’ useless?”

Schieranna smiles. “Definitely not.” She saddens a little, though, asking, “Wh-... What would you do… if it was Lykha?”

Coco shrugs nonchalantly. “Dunno. Be different, o’course. Tricksie nayso delicate as she fancies. Boomed a goob up good when we met.”

Lykha’s voice fills Schieranna’s mind only, That was an accident!

Schieranna smiles. “I see.”

The wind spirit continues sending air with a smile.

She would trade quite a lot for friends like Lykha has.

***************************************************

Coco storms out of the trunk winder once it’s on solid ground, and she confronts Mury with Schieranna hovering over her shoulder. “Oi! Wha’ was tha’, ey!? Strapped up hangin from me bones mashin me machens!”

Murtoa simply nods towards the front of the winder, which has curved some from the vehicle trying to reverse and turning a little on the soft ground. Coco and Schieranna look, and Coco’s jaw drops.

The entire cockpit was submerged at its deepest, easily distinguishable from the mud and sand clinging to the second segment’s roof as well where it started to follow the first segment in.

Mury replies sincerely, “Sorry I had to leave you alone inside. I had to react quick and get out of the way before I got pulled in too.” He adds warmly, “You all did well. Thank you.”

Schieranna smiles, but she quickly returns to task. “Maerin?”

Mury replies as he looks towards the tree. “No signs of struggle, but we found footprints.”

“Footprints!? You think I wouldn’t notice footprints?”

Gyrryth replies, “Not to disparage Sir Murtoa, but even he was not attuned enough to see them.”

Mury nods, “It’s true. I would’ve missed them. They’re very small.”

“Small?” asks Coco. “Like a wee machen or balah?”

Murtoa shakes his head, “No. Too small for a human or a southerner.”

“Definitely not a drakyk,” adds Gyrryth.

“Wai’... Don’ tha’ jus’ leave tricksies?”

Murtoa and Gyrryth are quiet as they both ponder, and Schieranna remarks, “Wait, why doesn’t that seem the most plausible?”

Murtoa replies, “Even wishless fairies can fly. Maerin walks when she’s tired because her body is a little heavier than most and her wings are scarred. These beings approached and left on foot. Including the perimeter scouts.”

Schieranna tries thinking as well, but she admits, “I still don’t fully get it. Why is that a big deal?”

Gyrryth offers, “Fairies fly almost silently as is, including Maerin. And, they didn’t try to engage you when your back was turned, meaning they had no airborne scouts. If they were normal fairies, they would likely have ignored or killed Maerin. But, if they were fellow wishless fairies…”

“It’s not adding up,” concludes Murtoa. “That’s all. Whatever the case, small bipeds seem to have taken her, which is more fortunate than a monster… for now. Given that she was taken on foot and not very long ago, we may be able to track them from here. Gyrryth, do you mind guarding the trunk winder?”

“While I am disappointed to not be present at Maerin’s time of need, I shall ensure she has a mobile home to return to.”

Murtoa nods, “Thanks. If you insist on going, one of us needs to stay, and I figured my armor…”

“No need to explain. I was simply being honest. Bring the Mature One back with haste, my friends.”

Schieranna hovers in front of the drakyk spellshot, and she says confidently, “I won’t fail her a second time. I will trade my priveledge to be here for it.”

Gyrryth nods in approval.

Murtoa looks at Coco, “Coco…”

“I’m goin’.” She adjusts her gear bag on her shoulder and fastens the chinstrap of her helmet.

“Even though…”

“I can’t right get my revenge on you two if she be bu’ a memory.”

Murtoa’s helmet tips only slightly, but his posture seems to be rather approving, rather than intimidated. He nods, replying, “We’ll do everything we can. Let me lead, though. And, if you have what we discussed…”

“Right here!” Coco pulls a small device out of her pouch, and she grips the simple trigger on its side. She then pulls a ripcord, but nothing happens. She explains to Gyrryth and Schieranna, “Nabby-rattla!” She releases the trigger briefly, and the device makes a painfully obnoxious ratcheting/whistling sound that’s rather difficult to ignore and causes Schieranna to have to cover her ears. Coco explains after she squeezes the trigger again, silencing it, “‘Case I get grabbed with a muffle’o’gab!”

Schieranna grins excitedly, but then switches to, “That’s… Why didn’t you give Maerin one!?”

Murtoa replies as he leads the way forward, “We didn’t know Maerin might get grabbed. We thought you were only going up.”

Coco adds softly, “Also, I only tinkered one. I-I’ll make more…”

Murtoa replies, “This is no one’s fault. Focus on getting Maerin back.”

Coco looks at him, accusing softly, “YOU said…”

“I don’t want to abandon anyone. But, we all have to be prepared for the possibility that something could happen too quickly for us to prevent. Anything else, we need to keep our wits.”

Coco nods, and Schieranna finally understands why his pace seems to be so slow and lethargic; he’s moving meticulously and carefully. Murtoa of Lakia, who specializes in slaying colossal monsters of the land and sky, has survived the most terrible terrors the world has to offer, and he did so out of luck -not dying instantly- and caution -planning and adapting at a careful pace-.

Murtoa replies softly as he crouches behind a bush, “If I had fired my cannon instantly, I would have missed, and they’d still be dead.” He whispers even more quietly, “And, so would I.”

Coco seems to turn pale at this revelation, and Schieranna realizes he’s making a reference to something only they know. That said, she gets his point. If he rushes out of panic, he’s more likely to make mistakes.

Schieranna didn’t panic. She just didn’t think. She attacked the colossus thinking she could knock it out of the sky. Maerin wanted to retreat, and they likely could have planned if need be.

In the quiet, however, she suddenly notices… a rhythm. There is a beating that could sound like a heartbeat, but a rapid one. However, it is more musical than a bodily function, with a changing melody, though consisting only of drumbeats from what she can tell.

She whispers, “Do you hear that?”

Coco nods. “Aye.”

Murtoa nods. “Drums. Stay on guard. Schieranna, try to find Maerin without being spotted. I’ll approach from the ground and draw their attention if I can.”

“D-... Do I grab her and run?”

“If you can.” He peeks around the bush. “Don’t rush, though. Just make sure she’s okay, first. We don’t know what we’re dealing with, and unless they’re aggressive, we don’t need to annihilate them.”

Coco growls, “You ain’t gabbin’ for this machen.”

“Coco, keep your distance and run interference if it falls apart.”

The teen nods. “Aye, Love.”

Murtoa stalks towards the sound of the drums as Schieranna darts up into the air. The human warrior checks his gear, ensuring it’s fastened well and that he has a mental inventory.

As he walks, he passes a rather large totem carved of an old fallen branch. It depicts a reptilian creature with big teeth, a long neck, and a small warrior with a sword. He keeps walking. Probably a good thing Lykha traded with Schieranna.

He approaches the apparent village calmly, having to duck to enter the well-lit trunk of an ancient tree with a near-fossilized hollow trunk. The space inside is massive, and given the smoke and the drums, likely keeps most wildlife away, including most colossi that could approach the trunk.

The drums continue musically, though the rhythm seems to be cycling a fairly simple, continuous tune with tribal-looking warriors pounding on the drums with their heels.

Murtoa scans the crowd. At a glance, it would be easy to see these individuals simply as tiny people, as their wings -if they have them- are not apparent. It’s more clear now, though, that they are in fact fairies, though the ones that have wings seem to have them bound behind their backs.

They notice him, and the drums slow to a stop. A muffled voice cries out in the silence, and Murtoa looks. Maerin is alive and appears to be physically unharmed, but she’s bound to a throne-like seat as younger fairy women paint tribal markings on her.

“EE-Goo-GURAAHH!!”

The tribe-members all cheer together, and dozens of them rush him, but Murtoa holds his ground. He towers over them, and they aren’t charging him with spears. They’re rushing him excitedly.

Murtoa looks down as young fairies; children, by the looks of them, push on his shins, along with some young women.

The apparent chieftain, a female fairy wearing an elaborate tribal mask with brightly colored tassles and feathers, calls out, “BUURAH! Ee, ee-goo-gurah! Shee MAKA!” The others cheer, and Murtoa says calmly, but loudly over their cheering, “Look, I know you can understand me.”

The chieftain shakes her head, bellowing, “Nanaana eek gree trunokka!”

Murtoa sighs. He orders, “That fairy is my friend. Give her back peacefully, please.”

The chieftain shakes her head, repeating, “Nanaana eek gree trunokka!”

The warrior steps forward, careful to not harm any of the villagers, but also rather obviously shoving them clear of his boots. He looms over the chieftain as she holds her ground holding a ceremonial spear, shaking the threatening-looking mask. For an animal, it would probably be quite effective at distraction. Murtoa states, “You’re wishless fairies. Fairies speak the common tongue. I know you can understand me.”

The chieftain stares up at him. Some of the fairy maidens are offering Murtoa food and drink from the ground, while a few others swing close to him on hanging swings to offer him tributes, but he ignores them.

“Maerin is a friend. You cannot have her.”

“Goddess,” murmurs the chieftain. She rallies the others, chanting, “Huu gree honn tokka tokka!” She repeats it, and many of the other tribe members join her in chanting the phrase.

Maerin cries out through the gag, and the maidens painting her resume painting markings on the mature fairy’s abdomen, chest, and back. Maerin squirms, and Murtoa states coldly, “I’m not going to play nice if I have to.”

The chieftain faces him, pointing the spear at him. “She fertility goddess! Sacrifice to Neekimuugorr and restore fertility to Zaereens!” The fairies around him cheer together, while some cry tears of joy and bow to Maerin.

“How do you figure?” asks Murtoa bluntly, and Maerin squirms while rambling behind her gag. She’s undoubtedly trying to urge him to forget the tribe and rescue her.

“Body prophesized in legend! Zaereen of immense matronly beauty and distinguished fertility appear! She save from Zaereen curse!”

Murtoa is quiet for a moment. He’s not one to cast judgment on anyone’s beliefs, particularly religious or prophetical ones, but he also knows better than to allow some to be carried out blindly.

“You understand Maerin has spent her wish, don’t you? She is not able to bear children.”

“Nay! Figure of goddess! Sign of fertility before Zaereen!”

“How many have you sacrificed to this… Neekimuugorr already?”

The chieftain is suddenly silent.

Murtoa reacts skillfully, throwing his hand out in time with a lean to catch a tiny figure falling. Schieranna, discovered in the upper parts of the trunk, cries out as she lands in his hand, tangled in a net. “Let me go! What is this!?”

The Zaereen chieftain snarls, “SHE NO WELCOME! BEGONE!”

Murtoa keeps Schieranna out of reach as the Zaereens taunt her.

Murtoa says calmly, realizing the wishless fairy tribe wants a sacrifice, wants blood, and just generally feels betrayed by a lot of the world, trying to exert control over what small portion of reality they can.

A fairy who still has magic represents every bit of their loss of control and identity. He gets it.

“She’s a friend as well. But ignore her.“ He indelicately puts the spirit-fairy into his gear bag, securing the fasteners. She shouts, “Hey!”

He says with his arms crossed, “Let’s negotiate.”

The Zaereens all look to the chieftain, confirming every single one of them is as he expected; a former normal fairy whose wish was spent one way or another.

Murtoa kneels lower, which puts the chieftain almost to his head level with the twisted root she’s standing on. He says calmly, “I won’t let you sacrifice Maerin. But, I will hear an alternative.”

The chieftain crosses her arms, sourly retorting, “Give children.”

Murtoa sighs. “You know that’s impossible.”

She instantly turns, shouting, “Yukka heegi naana!”

Mury places his hand in front of her, halting her from marching away from him. “I’m not your enemy. If I could, I would. Let me prove I’m your friend. Killing Maerin won’t help anyone.”

The chieftain’s face is hidden behind a mask, but it’s clear she’s deliberating.

She growls, “You human. Humans and drakyks and fairies take wishes. Zaereens have only Zaereens. Zaereens love Maerin. Zaereens worship Maerin. Where human when Zaereens find Maerin?”

Murtoa sighs. “You got me there. She was escorting her.” He pats his gear bag, indicating Schieranna without saying her name. “And, here I am. Asking for Maerin back. She serves no purpose to anyone but us.”

“You fight for?”

Murtoa nods without hesitation. “Of course.”

“You pass trial for?”

He nods again. “I will face any challenge.”

The chieftain looks to some of her apparent senior advisors and tribe sub-leaders. They briefly discuss it in their language, and more than once, some of the advisors glance at Murtoa. The maidens painting Maerin finish their work, kissing her abdomen even as the inebriated fairy growls at them.

The chieftain faces Murtoa. She declares proudly, “Human and Fairy face Neekimuugorr in Rite of Goddess Moon!”

The human warrior sighs under his breath, “Of course it’s a holiday…”

He withdraws Schieranna, helping free her from the net. She grumbles, “You stuffed me in your bag?”

“You were safer in there if I had to run. Maerin would have joined you.”

She sighs, straightening her hair and Lykha’s outfit. “So, what’s going on?”

“We’re going to face their god.”

“What!?”

“I leave it up to you and Lykha which of you assists me. Make the decision quickly before we start. We’ll need to plan.”

Schieranna tenses. Does she let Mury have his trusted companion back, or her own access to higher magical potential? She’s already developed an appreciation for how both can be used.

Either way, a human knight and a tiny companion will have to find out what the Neekimuugorr is together.

*************