“Now, we need to be quiet!” Rono said, in a voice that wasn’t very quiet. “Ma and Da don’t know we’re gone!”
They had left the path long ago, and now, they prowled through the undergrowth again. A wall of interwoven black branches blocked the way, and beyond it, Vayra could see the embers of fires—and a few gray tents.
The two halflings slipped through the hedge wall easily, but Vayra was much taller. She bent down to try to slip through the hole in the fence, but the branches still resisted her—it felt like they were trying to push her backwards. After a few seconds of trying to fit through gently, she tucked her chin and plowed straight through, not worrying about how many branches broke or how loud it was.
When she emerged, she stood up. The camp had been built into a small clearing, and it looked a lot more permanent than she’d expected. Lots of the tents had bases made of stone, and a few even had walls that climbed up a little higher—about half her height—before a round fabric roof began.
“You’re being too loud, Ms. Vayra!” Rono complained.
Vayra looked down at the halfling girl and was about to retort, when a guard (a full-grown halfling, which wasn’t saying much) hobbled over. He didn’t wear any armour, only a dirty green coat that couldn’t close over his large belly. His pistol looked more like a musket in his grip.
“Who goes there?” the guard demanded, cocking his pistol. He, like the halfling girls, had a head of fluffy brown hair and pointed ears, and he walked with a proud gait.
“It’s just us!” Rono exclaimed.
“And who’s this big folk you’ve brought wanderin’ into our camp, hm?” He looked at Vayra specifically. She was twice his height, but he still looked up at her and scowled—an intimidating sort of scowl, or at least she figured it was supposed to be. “Trying to steal away our children? They make nice slaves in your mining camps, hm? Crawl into little tiny crevices and pull out your precious minerals. Maybe if it was a midday luncheon, it could be justified, but not—”
Vayra knelt down so she was the same height. “I found these two wandering around in the woods, sir. At night. Alone. I came to bring them back safely.” She winked at Rono—a promise to not tell anyone about the Ignimaids.
“Ah…well, then, in that case, we must speak with Mr. and Mrs. Pattin at once!” the guard said. He grabbed Rono’s hand, and marched off towards the far side of the camp, where a slightly larger tent overlooked the rest.
A wooden porch wrapped around the bottom of the tent, only a step up from the ground. First, the halfling guard hopped up, and he dragged Rono and Fora behind him. As soon as they made it to the top, he bent down and rapped his knuckles against the boards.
A few seconds passed. Someone shuffled around inside the tent. A yawn followed, then the tent’s flap swung inward. An older halfling, perhaps thirty or forty years old, poked her head out. As soon her head turned towards the two girls, she stomped out and grabbed both of them by the wrist, then dragged them inside without saying anything.
Vayra glanced at the guard, hoping he might tell her more. He didn’t. A couple seconds later, a bit of soft scolding seeped out of the tent—in a foreign language that she couldn’t make out. It was unmistakably scolding, though.
As she waited, watching the guard nervously, she shifted back and forth on the balls of her feet. She contemplated stepping inside and saying something, but neither of the older halflings—the Pattins—sounded aggressive. Just worried.
Finally, the flap swung open again and both of the older halflings stepped out. They looked much the same as their daughters, though a little more plump in the faces, and they both had weary eyes.
‘They did just get woken up,’ Phasoné pointed out.
That was true enough. But Vayra also noted their calloused hands and a few scars here and there, and she figured these halflings weren’t as peaceful or fun-loving as the tales had predicted—the few tales she had heard about them.
Besides, she hadn’t even seen a garden of any sort on the way in, and they were supposed to love gardening.
‘Product of the times, perhaps? At least little Rono seemed pretty excitable.’
Vayra snorted, then knelt down in front of the Pattins. Mrs. Pattin dismissed the guard with a wave, then crossed her arms and looked at Vayra. She said, “So you’re the one who found them?”
“I am, miss.” Vayra dipped her head respectfully, then said, “I tried to convince them to go home, but they weren’t listening. And I couldn’t carry them both at the same time.”
“You big folk seem to be gettin’ bigger by the day,” said Mr. Pattin. “Ah, not that big, though. Not big enough to lift that load.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“I’m sorry, mister,” Vayra said, dipping her head to him as well. “But I made sure that they were safe. I didn’t let them too close to the Lavapots”—that, of course, was a lie, but two worrying parents didn’t need to know that—“and I made sure they came back here safe and sound. Not even a singed hair.”
“What were you doing in these parts, anyways?” Mrs. Pattin asked. “They said they found you sleepin’ in the woods!” She approached Vayra, then walked a circle around her. “Oh, you still look tired! You poor thing!” With her pinky and thumb, she pinched Vayra’s scarf and lifted it up. “Well, it’s not companyman garb, certainly!”
Mr. Pattin grumbled, “She’d have stuck to the company trail if she was.”
“I…I came from south of the mountains,” Vayra said. “I’m looking for the Narvelpeare Facility. Do you know where it is?”
“You want to go there?” Mrs. Pattin exclaimed, then covered her mouth. After a second, she whispered, “It’s not the most cheery place, these days. Some God-heir forced his way in and took over.”
Vayra nodded. “I’ve heard. My…uh, my brother is there. He works there. I needed to make sure he was alright.” That was mostly true, after all. But it wasn’t just her brother. All her friends were there, and they were people worth protecting.
Both of the Pattins shared a glance, then they leaned closer and whispered to each other—like they were an older echo of their mischievous daughters. Only they spoke in a language that Vayra couldn’t make out.
Once they were done, Mrs. Pattin walked past Vayra. The halfling woman beckoned Vayra towards a fire pit just below the porch, where some embers still burned. A charred log popped, spewing sparks into the air.
“Love, can you bring out the leftovers?” Mrs. Pattin asked. “There should be a few rolls in the pantry, and I’m sure…miss, uh…what’s your name, miss?”
“I’m Vayra.”
“Lobie Pattin Niseville,” said Mrs. Pattin. She patted a stone near the edge of the firepit, then, with a smile, she sat down on it. Then, she pointed to another stone on the other side of the embers. “Take a seat, dear. Adowise will be back with some food for you.”
Vayra sat down on the stone on the other side. It would have been the perfect height for a halfling to sit in, but not for her. Her knees almost came up to her chest, and the only way she could get comfortable was by hugging them. As soon as she was settled, she said, “I really should be going…you can tell me where Narvelpeare is, right?”
“I can,” Mrs. Pattin said. “Now, Ado and I were talking. He’s been to town, lately, and it sounds like there’s a bounty on someone that looks like you. An orange-haired girl, pointy ears, blue eyes…” The halfling woman narrowed her eyes. “...red tattoos, too, I suppose. Or are those really feathers beneath your skin?”
Vayra looked down at her shoulder, where she’d first seen the band of reddish orange feathers starting to push up. They hadn’t yet broken the surface, and she doubted they would until she got more powerful. “They’re, uh, they’re real.”
“Either way, Rono said you could make your hand glow. Take it you’re a God-heir, then, like the bounty said?”
They must really have thought Phasoné was prolific…
‘Not everyone can ask me personally if I’ve been having many children,’ said Phasoné. ‘Nor are they the most educated people.’
Nor was Vayra. But at least Vayra had a Goddess in her head to tell her what she needed to know.
‘That too.’
“Are you…alright, Vayra?” Mrs. Pattin asked. “Or is it common that the big folk stare blankly off into the distance after being asked if they have magic?
Vayra shook her head. “I—I’m—”
She could tell Mrs. Pattin that she was the Mediator, but what good would it do? If their daughters were any indicator, they wouldn’t believe her.
Vayra pursed her lips, then lied, “Yeah. I am.” She let go of her knee and held up a finger. “But I don’t want any trouble. Like I said, I just want to get to the Narvelpeare Facility.”
“If it means anything, Lobie, I don’t think she can be all bad,” said Mr. Pattin. He stepped out of the tent, carrying a wicker basket full of plain buns. He set it down by the embers and said, “Take your pick, miss.”
Vayra thanked him with a smile, then picked a few buns up out of the basket. They were hard, and a little stale, but it was nothing worth complaining about. “Thank you, Mr. Pattin.”
“At your service,” he said, then sat down next to Mrs. Pattin.
“I was just telling her about the bounty poster, love,” Mrs. Pattin said.
“I’ll be as careful as I can,” she said. “I promise, I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I know which way to head.”
“If you’ve been to the Lavapots, then you know the flow channel.” Mrs. Pattin looked over her shoulder, then pointed her finger in a general northeast direction. “That way, ish. Follow the channel as far as you can away from the mountains. It doesn’t branch, and you’ll reach the Narvelpeare Facility soon enough.”
Vayra stood up, still chewing on her third bun, but both of the halflings raised their arms towards her. “Wait!” they exclaimed.
Then, alone, Mr. Pattin said, “You helped our daughters, and by extension, the whole camp. You can spend the rest of the night here, resting, right? We’ll make you a bed, and you can sleep the night, at least.”
Vayra was about to protest, but she knew it would be unwise to resist.
‘Good. You need to sleep,’ Phasoné told her. ‘Half a night won’t kill you—or spell the crew’s doom.’
“And…by any chance, do you have Stream water?” Vayra asked. “I’d very much appreciate it if you did.”
“We should still have some water from the river, for the ponies,” said Mr. Pattin. “There should still be a few wisps of that magic water stuff in there. You can do whatever you God-heirs do with it, if you’d like.”
“Thank you so much.” Vayra bowed her head. “Now…if you don’t mind, I’ll take you up on that offer, and get back to sleep.”