by A. C. Salter
He nodded to Limble, signalling him to begin tying one end of the sling to the feet of the thrush while he tied the other to the feet of his finch. It wasn’t an easy task, the birds being both petrified and tired. Once done, Dilbus commanded the birds to rise, lifting the sling and hefting the severed head off the ground.
“It’s too heavy, Sir,” Limble said as the head came back down amidst a flurry of feathers as they frantically beat at the air.
“Then by the Blessed Mother, grab a hold and help,” Dilbus snapped as he climbed onto the head and withdrew his sword once again. “We need to return before dawn.”
He began hacking the ears from the skull while Limble gripped what was left of the lank hair and pulled. His wings wafting swiftly as the head began to rise.
One gristly ear had been partially chewed by an animal so it took little effort to finished the job of severing it, while the other, which had been lying flat against the ground, retained much of the skin. The green rotting flesh finally gave and the ear tumbled to the forest floor, relieving the head of enough weight to allow the birds and Limble to bear it skyward.
The task done, Dilbus sat down on the goblin’s forehead and watched the trees go by. There was little he could do bar being a passenger on the most gruesome form of pallet imaginable. Yet he had time to think and go over the plan. The morning was fast approaching and if they wanted to be ready for the rescue attempt, they had much to do.
“Can you see movement yet?” Dilbus whispered from his hiding place beside the window ledge. They had striven to be finished before the goblin in the hovel awoke, but it seemed they needn’t have rushed.
“Only his chest, rising and falling as he snores,” Limble replied from the window. “Do you think he suspects anything?”
Dilbus sucked on his tooth as he glanced over the work they had accomplished: the large demon they had created from a pole, a shirt they had taken from the corpse and the head they had fixed atop it. Long sticks and twigs were positioned inside to give the impression of a wide body. As long as the wind didn’t tease it to reveal that it had no more substance than a scarecrow, the plan might actually work.
“Yes, he knows we’re here,” Dilbus replied, seeing no point in lying. “That’s why he sang that song yesterday. To let us know, that he knew we were here. But I doubt he suspects a rescue attempt.”
Limble’s eyebrows drew together. “Unless it’s a trap. He may have sung the song to let us know that he knew we were here, and knew that we knew that he sang it to let us know that he knew…”
“Shut up. It doesn’t matter,” Dilbus snapped irritably. “What about Genili, can you see her?”
“She’s on the table, sleeping in a jar.”
Dilbus nodded while going over the plan once more in his mind. It was a long-shot, and depended greatly on the goblin’s reaction, but it was doable. If not, he would find himself in a jar. He doubted his one pathetic wing would end up on a sparkly brooch, though.
“Then let’s get this madness underway. I want to be homeward bound on the river by noon.”
Limble breathed deeply and flew away from the window, heading in the direction of the door and the trap they had set.
“Good luck, Sir,” he whispered as he passed.
“And to you,” Dilbus said softly as he placed both hands against the bark pane that replaced the glass. Luck was a commodity that had rarely shown its hand throughout his life. He only hoped it had been saving itself for this precise moment, giving a lifetime’s worth of luck in one sitting.
He waited until Limble had begun to saw the rope that held the huge mock-up of a demon in place before putting his weight against the bark.
The final strand of the rope gave beneath Limble’s knife and the entire demon fell against the door making a clatter as bones and twigs struck the rotting wood.
Using the loud noise to cover his own, Dilbus shoved against the bark and it creaked open to reveal a gap wide enough for him to slip through.
He held his breath as the goblin sat up in his cot and stared at the door, his green face mottled with indentations from a straw-filled pillow.
“Wazzat?” he muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stretched his arms out and paused mid-yawn as a rapid tattoo of beats knocked on the door.
“Who’s there?” the goblin demanded as he climbed from his bed and hobbled across the squat room, grasping a dagger from the table as he went.
Dilbus followed the lumbering giant until he was sure that he was out of his sight, then heaved the rest of the bark from the window and carefully placed it on the sill.
The door creaked as the goblin pulled it open. He squinted as he glared out into the pre-dawn grey, his wide nostrils flaring as he sniffed the damp air.
“Who…” he began, then stopped, one trembling hand covering his mouth while he raised the other, the dagger shaking wildly in his grasp. “But…but…you’re dead,” he stuttered, cowering down and sinking to his knees. “May the Blessed Mother take my soul, it was an accident. I didn’t kill you intentionally.”
Dilbus heard the snap of another rope, followed by the woven strands rushing through a pulley and the demon swung into the room, a skeletal arm pivoting on a makeshift hinge to point an accusing finger at the weeping goblin.
“Sorry…sorry…sorry,” the feeble creature pleaded as he began to crawl away, raising his hands protectively above his head. Dilbus squirmed beneath the demon to rush outside.
Sure, that the plan was working, he put his fingers to his mouth and whistled. A moment later and his finch appeared at the gap in the window. He hurriedly climbed onto her back and glided down to the table.
“Genili?” he hissed as they landed beside the huge jar. The fairy sat up at the mention of her name, shocked face beaming as she recognised him. “Don’t worry, I’m going to get you out.”
The lid was securely shut and he wouldn’t have the strength to flip it open, not even with the combined effort of Limble, wherever he was. His friend should have flown inside to join him by now, but it wouldn’t be uncharacteristic of him to have forgotten some of the plan.
“Make yourself into a small ball and cover your head,” he ordered her as he drew his sword. Breaking the glass would make an unwanted noise, but he didn’t know how long the goblin would be before realising he had been tricked.
With Genili curled up in a tight ball, he struck the glass several times before it fractured and then shattered.
Genili let out a scream as the fragments showered around her but mercifully she appeared unharmed. Dilbus grasped her around the elbow and lifted her back to her feet before propelling her to the finch.
“Quickly now, climb on. We don’t have much time,” he said as he leapt upon the bird. Tears streaming down her face, Genili wrapped her arms around his stomach and held on as they jumped from the table and flew for the open door.
They made it as far as the demon before it slammed shut, severing the scarecrow’s skeletal arm. It fell to the floor with a clatter, followed by the rest of the fake giant, the head hitting stone and making a sickening crunching noise. Above it stood the goblin, yellow teeth showing through a grimace, Limble’s legs kicking from beneath his curled fingers.
“Thought you could outsmart me?” the goblin said as he made to grasp them, but Dilbus steered the finch out of reach and made to circle back to the window.
“No, you don’t,” said the giant as he crossed the room in two strides and blocked the way out, his dagger making playful figure of eights in the air. “Stupid little fairies,” he laughed, his pot-belly bouncing under a hide vest.
Terror, like none he had felt since the war, sent chills through his blood. Dilbus glanced about him but there was no escape.
“Hold on tight,” he bellowed to the frightened girl clinging to him and then pulled on the reins, aiming the finch’s beak for the fireplace.
They dived below the goblin’s swinging arm and in the same arc swept up above the cauldron and into the brick hearth, the darkness of
the chimney shrouding them as they ascended.
The finch suddenly screeched as she struck a bank of soot, her wings flinging wide and catching the thick black sides, spilling both Dilbus and Genili from the saddle. They tumbled to the open mouth of the cauldron, the gaping basin seeming to widen to reveal the cold slop from the previous day. Chunks of meat floating amidst the detritus of cabbage, bilge water root and animal bone.
Struggling to locate the cord of his prosthetic wing, Dilbus grasped the string and yanked.
His wing flicked out and he instantly gathered air and attempted to grab onto Genili’s spinning body. He was kicked in the face before finally gripping her by the collar and hauling her upright.
“Fly,” he shouted.
She locked her arms onto his and opened her own wings, teeth biting her bottom lip in determination just as thick green fingers wrapped around the pair of them.
“Nicey-nicey, no bitey-bitey,” the goblin chuckled as he sandwiched them with his other hand. The vice-like grip squeezed all the air from Dilbus’s lungs and he couldn’t draw a breath. White stars began to fizz on the edge of this vision before he tumbled again and he struck the hard, unforgiving ground.
“Sir,” Limble said. The shape of the portly fairy wavered into focus as Dilbus raised himself into a sitting position.
“Where’s Genili?” he asked as the rest of the room stopped spinning.
“I’m here,” she said, pulling on the arm that she had been holding the entire time. Dilbus patted her reassuringly before regarding the predicament which he now found himself in. If a predicament could be assigned to such a muddle of a trap.
“Now three little fairies, I have here,” the goblin sang as he snapped the lid of the cage shut and slid a heavy iron bolt across the lock. “They’ll make a pretty jewel for my lady to hold dear.”
“What happened?” Dilbus asked Limble as he drew his sword and stabbed the fleshy part of the goblin’s hand as he raked his finger along the metal bars of the cage.
The goblin yelped and withdrew his hand, the sword still imbedded to the bone.
“Little fick pick,” he hissed as he pulled it free and flung it on the floor. “I’ll be enjoying slicing you apart.”
Dilbus cringed away from the long fingernail that was thrust against the cage, knocking the entire box back along the table.
Limble collapsed onto the floor and lay his head into his arms.
“He was acting,” he said nodding towards the now closed door. “No sooner had he come out, cringing the way he did over the threshold, than he snatched me from behind the head of the demon. He knew we were there the whole time.”
Dilbus watched as the goblin shoved his arm into the fireplace and reached up into the chimney. A moment later he withdrew it, grasping the struggling finch which was now covered in soot and screeching for all it was worth.
“And they brought me breakfast,” the goblin said, bashing the bird’s head against the thick wood of the table before throwing the limp body into the cauldron, including the saddle and packs. Dilbus felt remorse for his finch, she had been a good bird. It was a shame they’d decided to place the silver javelin on Limble’s thrush, otherwise it may have gotten stuck in the goblins’ gullet when he ate.
The vibration of the impact was still travelling along the planks and into the cage as Genili buried her head into Dilbus’s chest.
“It’s alright,” he said, attempting to soothe her while brushing hair from her damp face. Yet he felt anything but alright. In fact, they were as far from alright as possible. Caged in a goblin hovel, days away from Farro with no chance of a rescue, and expecting to be cut into pieces to be used for decorative jewellery.
“Sir, what are we going to do?” Limble asked, his voice carrying the melancholy tone of defeat.
“We’re caged,” he whispered, not wanting to share his words with Genili, but it seemed that even his second-in-command was reducing himself to a blubbering child. “There isn’t a lot we can do except wait for an opportunity.”
The straps of the prosthetic wing were digging into his waist and chaffing his hip, the heavy contraption fell with a clunk as he undid the buckles.
“Does anybody know we are here?” Genili mumbled, regaining control of her emotions and wiping away the tears.
“No, sorry, it was only Limble and I that attempted to rescue you. It seems we didn’t do a very good job.” He glanced away from her, shame burning with failure. “Have you seen the others that were taken from Farro?”
Genili curled her legs up to her chest and rested her chin atop a knee. “They’re all dead,” she said, her eyes following the goblin as he placed fresh kindling beneath the cauldron and began to strike the flint from a tinderbox. “When I arrived, there was only the serving girl here that that had gone missing a few days before I did. The rest had already been…” Fresh tears began to run down her face as she stared along the table at the many sharp knives and tools. “Then she too was spread on the wood, face down and bound at wrist and ankle. She screamed as the monster cut away her wings, laughing as he placed them beside her so she could see. I think she fainted. I hope she did, because then he…he.” She curled her hand into a fist and slammed it into her other palm, startling a yelp from Limble. “Flattened her and threw her body into the fire. He grinds down the charred remains to make fairy dust.”
Dilbus put an arm around her, noticing the many jars that sat along one of the shelves, filled with black dust, the dust of many dead fairies.
“I don’t want that, I don’t want him to take my wings,” she spluttered.
“I won’t let him,” he said, although how he was going to prevent it eluded him. He knew better than most what it was like to lose a wing.
“How did you end up here in the first place? We’re days of bird-flight away from Farro.” His gaze fell on other gruesome objects around the room before picking out a crudely drawn picture, painted above an empty shelf taking pride of place. From the mould and dust gathered around the rough wood, leaving a circular patch, he guessed that it was missing a jar. The picture was of a fairy that seemed to spark recognition.
“I can’t remember much, it’s all a bit fuzzy. I was on my way to collect things for the baker in the Aviary, when I was stopped by a fairy in a willow on the edge of town. He wanted to show me something in his beetle trap, a fancy gem lamp I think it was. When my head was turned he placed a handkerchief on my face and the next thing I remember is waking up here.”
“Who was the fairy?” Dilbus asked, unable to draw his gaze away from the picture on the wall. He had seen that fae before.
“I couldn’t tell, the shadow of the willow hid him.”
“Dylap,” Dilbus blurted out as he absorbed the painting more and saw the spines that were drawn over the fae’s back.
“It wasn’t the Dylap,” Genili, said, shaking her head. “He was with Ebbin, they were worm collecting.”
“Not that, the picture, look.”
He pointed to the space above the empty shelf where he suspected the god-created vessel had sat.
“How does he fit into all this?” Dilbus asked, but was then distracted by a shadow looming over them. He glanced up into the goblin’s grimacing ugliness.
“Now breakfast is slowly simmering, let me see what these new delights are about,” he said, sliding the bolt back and opening the cage.
Dilbus put himself in front of Genili, pain already dancing through his many joints as he strained away from the grimy fingers. Yet it was Limble that the goblin grasped and snatched out of the cage. His chubby cheeks squashed flat against a finger knuckle as he squirmed inside the grip, feet kicking beneath the palm.
Dilbus had never felt so helpless as he watched his friend carried over to the table full of tools, slamming the lid of the cage shut and sliding the bolt.
“May the Blessed Mother save us all,” he said, as if she could somehow deliver them from this evil.
21
Revelations of Falon
It was an odd feeling, settling into the black feathers, a familiar warmth as if he had done this all his life, yet still his memories eluded him. Falon - it was his name - it felt right but he was still Dylap. He was the fairy found by the night watch: ground-dweller, worm-gutter, bird-soother of the Aviary, friend to few, hated by most. This was the fairy which he was, not a god-created brother to the falcon. What he found strangest of all the revelations that Crayl attempted to explain, was the fact that Farro was his home and had always been so. Yet the falcon couldn’t explain why it had changed so much or where he had been all this time. Storm-kissed, god-created, brother to a falcon – there were many questions he wished to know the answers to, but Crayl eased him into waiting for his memories to return. With them, all would be explained.
They flew above forest geese, the large white birds heading north in a V formation. They passed them and were out of sight in a single breath, such was Crayl’s speed.
The falcon had explained that he had found him on the bank up river, that he had been in the hands of a pair of goblins who were squabbling over him. The jar he was kept in slipped into the water as one goblin struck the other over the head and it was washed away in the Twine and lost amongst the rushing torrent. How he had ended up in the jar in the first place, Crayl couldn’t say, and so they flew north to the area for answers. Although the priority was to find Genili and the other fairies that had been taken.
And you say that the creatures who stole the fairies of Farro, were the same evil that squabbled over me? Dylap asked, his mind working over the vision the falcon had shown him after he’d thought Elaya had been the one. It turned out that the fairy who held the handkerchief had only disguised himself as a split-wing. Through Crayl’s mind, he watched as the kidnapper rode the beetle trap out of the city and along a lonely track to a fallen tree. He then bundled the unconscious Genili into a glowing sack which he tied to a waiting crow. The crow flew north along the same course they were heading and so he hoped to find answers to both riddles. Where the missing fairies of Farro had been taken and where he had been all this time, maybe even who he was.