by S L Mason
“Call out, brothers, there was one still up there before the floor fell.” His lips smack with moisture on every word.
How is he not coughing?
A voice calls down from above. “Gral, there’s no one left up here. She must be down there.” A few pebbles fall on my head.
“We have fresh kills, so don’t waste your time looking for the straggler, Tarnnel. We know where she’s going.” The gravelly voice from earlier drifts up to me. I pull the shadowy magic closer around me. Tarnnel must be the lip smacker. The dust gives me cover, but lack of visibility heightens sound.
A humph from a hard landing off to the left reminds me, it’s time to move. I time my steps with that of the goblin, anticipating our distance and keeping it.
“Ween, call the wind to clear this dust, I can’t see the blood,” Tarnnel calls to a third. I freeze in place. The scent of rotting meat and congealed blood wafts over from the dwarf-like creature.
If I open my mouth to breathe, I take in dust; if I keep breathing through my nose, I’ll retch. I pull the front of my chemise up over my nose. My own scent of dirt and sweat is preferable to a meat market without power for a week.
My goblin cover was on the move again, and I match his steps, moving down to the next floor. My footing finds a level surface and a breeze filters through the outline of an arched door. I move closer to the opening, hoping to follow a wall and keep to the safety of the shadows.
The light breeze turns to a blowing gale, clearing the hallway in under two minutes. I find myself standing a few feet from a wall and surrounded by no less than five stunted little goblins with dripping-wet red hats.
“I told you she was down here,” Ween quips. He pulls a large meat cleaver from over his shoulder. He lips pull back into a leering smile, revealing a mouth filled with pointed blood-stained teeth. The cleaver’s edge gleams with an eerie light and rust-colored stains. The blade itself is a rectangle with a curling hook on the top edge next to a hole. He heaves it up and down, allowing the back of the blade to smack into his meaty paws.
“She smells different from the others, Gral.” Trennal smacks his lips and wipes his dripping nose across his sleeve. The wet trail from his nose began its course anew from his nose down to his lips. The mucus from his nose was making his lips wet.
I screwed up my nose on one side, gross.
Trennal pulls two blades from either side of his stunted torso. The blades resemble his friend's, encrusted with rust.
Gral’s gravelly voice cuts through the tension. “I can’t smell her over the others. Make short work of her and let’s go. I don’t want to miss out on the rest.” He reaches up and scratches at the red-pointed stocking cap stuck to his head, then pushes the brim back, leaving a red gleaming trail behind. I watch in morbid fascination as the red trail coalesces and runs down the side of his gnarled face to drip off the wispy hair on his jawline.
The fear I should feel from their words didn’t hit full force until I scan the rest of the hall. Three girls lay in different positions, all with unseeing eyes staring into a future they would never reach. Two with white hair and one with black, all had blood as red as a cherry. Next to each one stoops a hatless goblin. Their bald heads shined with rosy moisture. One hand held on to a cap as they used them to wipe up the bloody pool surrounding each girl.
“Gral, can this one be mine? I want her.” Trennal smacks his lips and pulls them back into a smile of glee. Oh, I’m fucked. The sound of three wet hats slapping onto the bald pates of the goblins made me swallow back the saliva pooling in my mouth.
I refocus on the leader and Trennal.
Gral replies, “Finish it quick, we won’t wait!”
The four turn to follow the hallway to the next stairwell. In the flash of an instant, I’m on my back, blinking back the stars again. Trennal’s beady black orbs stare down at me emotionlessly as he studies me. He flips one of the knives in his hand, turning it over, the blade pointed down and away from him.
I kick a leg up at him and it meets his hip, knocking him off balance. Then, I let my magic rumble begin. I turn to my old standby, lifting rocks and dust and spinning my magic tornado.
The flying debris pelts his body. But he is up like lightning and moves into the maelstrom.
“I’m not worried about a little dirty wind, human,” Trennal taunts.
I don’t take the bait. Instead, I put one of Puca’s lessons to good use. I picture myself at the other end of the corridor and appear there.
“You’re a tricky one, I’ll give you that.” Trennal remarks. “You’ll have to be smarter than that to beat me. We Redcaps live a long time. It’s the blood, it gives us immortality. Your blood should last me a century at least.” He sucks in a long, wet snuffle and runs his sleeve under his nose. It does nothing to slow the flow of mucus from his nasal passage.
Using my power to move in an instant, I hopscotch down the stairs to the next floor. Smacking lips keeps pace behind me with each new flash. I am never going to shake him this way.
Bursting from the curved stairwell, I have enough time to scan the corridor before I flash to the other end.
Magic wakes turn to the left at the end of the passageway and continue on. I scramble over a new pile of debris for my next flash and come face to face with a gnarled visage. One side of his face is scrunched up as if squished by giant fingers. His black marble eye blinks twice.
The shock of our meeting wears off, and he raises his cleaver over his head. I flash a kick to his exposed gut, knocking him down the other side of the rubble.
“She’s over here, Trennal, come kill her before we do,” Gral calls.
Taking in the new terrain, I’m surrounded by five little goblin-like creatures, their redcaps dripping with blood the scent of rotten meat lingers along with the dust.
The goblin with the pinched face jumps to his feet takes a breath and flashes to my side. I have enough time to face him, then I hang in the air for a split second and the floor drops out and gravity takes over. Humming, I create a floating spell. Pinch face tumbles down to the next floor, only to be covered by rocks and wooden beams.
I float down light as a feather. The crashing of stone on stone covers Pinch face’s head, followed by a sickening crunch. His hat changes from red to an earthy brown then shrivels down to the size of a garden gnome.
Glancing up through the gaping hole above me, I can finally see them for what they are. Nothing more than garden gnomes with redcaps. Who the fuck ever thought these were cute?
Crunching rock reverberates off what’s left of the walls. A moment later I land flat on my back next to the open lifeless staring eyes and a pool of blood. I return the fixed stare with one of surprises. Dripping followed by slapping fills the dust-laden air, and behind me, a sickening squish filters through the grimy air. Scrambling to my feet, I spy other bodies littering what’s left of both upper and lower hallways. None of the blood grew mushrooms. The dead girls are still too human. I cough on dust and grim, to cover the cry clawing to get out.
The rumble starts in my chest moving outward to fill the space around me lifting every object into a floating position.
Smacking followed by a fart causes me to turn and duck as Trennal slashes his cleaver at my head. He misses most of me, but rends a hole in my shirt, nicking my arm. The blue blood wells up and drips onto the floor.
A deep blue mushroom sprouts, glowing with internal Fae light throwing its gloom over the already creepy scene.
Whistling up the wind, I push all the floating gnomes out of my way. “Don’t bother, brothers, she’s too Fae—her blood’s no good to us,” Trennal yells as he spins away in the windy vacuum.
Gral replies, “But if we kill her the rule of wild continues.”
A blade whizzes past my face and I hum it into my hand, then return it to its owner only to miss. Multiple thumps are followed by crunching and a grunt.
Using the wind to clear the dust, I can’t win without visibility.
“Wenn, fix
her Fae tricks!” Gral demands.
Wenn follows with, “it’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring. He went to bed and bonked his head and the Fae took him before the morning.” Wenn’s voice rings out the counter to my magic. My eyes find the source of four grunts as each gnome finds his feet.
I hum my protection around me along with my shadowy cloak, then flash to the other end of the passage. The yawning archway promises an exit to a new floor.
And I flash down the twisting tower at breakneck speed. But the gnomes keep pace, flashing past five floors and down two corridors before coming to a large room edged on all four sides with balconies only to meet on the far side into one open stairway. It trails down one floor, then splits back into two. I count at least ten levels, the lower the floor the darker the gaping abyss.
Whipping, my head back and forth like any normal prey, I flash to the top of the second flight. I rumble in the shadows, pulling away the light.
The first gnome turns the corner, following the balcony’s edge. I pull a finger blade and throw it and watch the magic wake pushing it to maximum speed. It buries in Gral’s chest, and then I thrust it deep into the cavity, slicing through the gnarled heart hidden there.
Flashing to his side, I watch as he sinks down to his knees, clasping at the bloody hole in his sternum. His redcap slips over the edge into the black chasm, desiccating and shriveling as it goes till it carries no more weight than a feather drifting from one side to the other.
One down, three to go.
The knotted, ugly face transforms before me. What had appeared to be a gnarled gnome or goblin fades away to reveal its true form. A young human boy no more than seven. The magic of the cap had twisted him into that horrible beast. I scream in frustration. Everything in Fae is fucked. Evil is good, good is evil.
Why can’t just one creature I kill be bad, for real?
I pound my fist into the wall, it crumbles as the plaster falls away. I swallow back my rage and flash back to the lower levels.
CHAPTER 23
The shadows cloak me, and I pull back into their inky embrace. Fae sight works best at night, but even mine can’t discern gnome from shadow. My only saving grace is the wake waves. They tattle on everyone, lighting each object similar to dolphin sonar.
The three remaining redcaps breach the archway and come to a halt. The fallen form of Gral is on full display before them. They each take a different direction.
I flash to the next floor down, buying time for my next move, enchanting as I go. I’m banking on them flashing down the stairs and only touching down in a few locations. I hum several protection circles, hoping to trap one or two.
Wenn is their caster, the only one with magic.
“We know you’re out there, Fae,” Trennal taunts me as he flashes down another level.
They murmur amongst themselves, and each heads a different direction at every floor. I flash down to the next landing while humming the next trap. Then, I step into the shadows, cloaking my movements. I am ready to flash to the next floor, but a redcap appears in one of my circles. He clasps his sickle-shaped weapon in both hands. A smile scrapes across his withered face, sinking his eyes into deep crevasses and forcing the warts to stand out.
“I got her! Next floor, brothers,” Wart boy yells to his creepy friends. Ternnal flashes next to him. I flash to the balcony on the other side of the room just outside my next trap. The wakes from the other side ticks back from the protection circle as it takes hold.
“Wenn, I can’t move—save me!” Warty screams in irritation. The edge of his sickle scrapes over the magical barrier. Wenn’s song fills the air while working over the trap, to no avail. I sang it fresh into the world of magic—the old counter song would never break what I brought forth.
I hitch a half smile and flash to the next floor down.
The gravelly voices three floors up reverberate back and forth, throwing angry wakes in every direction.
“Sorry, Bagga, but I can’t get ya out.” Wenn’s statement only fortifies my belief that my magic is stronger than theirs.
Bagga’s screams cut the air; they must have left him behind. I flash down to the next floor, deeper into the chasm. I’ve lost count how many flights I passed—there must be a bottom. But every flash brings the fear they’d dug a stairwell deep enough to reach China.
The light at the end of this hole is rectangular. I flash to the center, landing at the base of a window. The glass is colored with the stained pieces of crystal, each shaped to fill a part of a picture. Dirt and age mask the visage, leaving only the outline of a woman standing next to what appears to be a stag. The horns rise even higher than the woman’s head, and I can only just make out the cloven hooves in the glass closest to me. I crane my next back to get a better view, but only a dim light filters through. I can’t make out the color of the woman’s hair—it could have been white, but the age and filth clinging to the crystal obscure all but a raised outline.
Dust and gravel filter down and land on my head and shoulders. I lay my trap encompassing the entire landing, then flash to the upper balcony to watch and wait.
Stepping back into the shadows, I pull the gloom of them around me.
Wenn flashes first onto a stair above the landing. He turns his head, surveying the area, taking a moment to examine the window. I hold my breath as his leg breaks the magic barrier and he plants both feet on the landing. He moves cautiously into the center. “Trennal, it’s clear!” Wenn calls out.
Trennal flashes onto the opposite rise and waits for a few moments, then raises his foot in the air, only to place it back down. He grabs the handrail and leaps over the side and onto the next flight down.
Fuck, I bit my lip. One to go.
Wenn moves to join him and smashes against the invisible wake line holding him. He opens his mouth to sing, but the sound bounces against the wakes and returns to batter him.
Following the wall and the shadows, I move along the balcony directly across from the window and the stairs. The Fae light glints through the crystal, highlighting the image for a second—I see wings, then it’s gone. I shake my head to remove the spots; I’ve grown so accustomed to the dark. I’m still blinking when my face smashes into the banister, then splintering wood and the weightlessness of freefall replace my vision.
I float before gravity takes over, and the wind pulls at me as the ground rapidly approached. I hum, but the impact pushes the air from my lungs. As panic overwhelms my senses, I struggle to force air into my chest. It rattles and then the rumble ignites, creating my own skin of protection.
“I told you I’d get you,” Ternnal’s lips smack out. The heavy thump of Ternnal landing next to my battered body is followed by a long snort.
I move to stand, but a blood-covered boot presses into the side of my head, forcing my face into the grimy floor. I blink away the grit, blowing away dust bunnies with my nostrils. The weight of his boot grows, coupled with a long bout of flatulence.
Ternnal calmly orders, “Release Wenn and Bagga!” He snorts phlegm into the back of his throat and hocks it on to the ground not far from my face.
I cough out a dry laugh. “You think I’ll free your friends to help kill me? You have the brain of a six-year-old.” Internally, I cross my fingers I got his real age correct.
Ternnal’s blade slides into my line of sight and taps the stone a whisker away from my nose. Smacking his lips together, he draws in a deep breath. “Fae like pretty. Wouldn’t it be a shame to ruin your pretty?” His remark would have scared the shit out of me just a few months ago, but not now.
Pretty and ugly are nothing more than a state of mind—the outside can be altered. Love is the only thing able to create beauty.
I’m buying time to regain my strength. The small area of the room within my line of sight sits empty and littered with chipped stones, splintered wooden timbers, and dust.
I blink away the settling particles and the shadows beyond shift. Ternnal lifts the blade and announces.
“Say goodbye to your nose, little Fae.” His boot rocks my head back and forth against the stone.
I move my body in time with him, working my hand over a blade handle. With his last rock, I roll away and fling the blade, slicing his swing arm.
I pull my legs up toward my face and back to the ground, I use the momentum to launch onto the balls of my feet. Sliver slides from its scabbard with a chilling ring and melds to my hand. I flash to the base of the stairs.
Ternnal roars, “You can’t get away, stupid Fae-ling.” He flashes to my side and attacks with his cleaver, cutting left then right.
I parry both attempts to cleave me in two, and the metal rings like sweet bells on Christmas Day. Moving up the stairs, I lure him on. He continues the attack, slashing and thrusting. I fend off, bobbing this way and that taking a new step back each time.
“You Fae-lings always retreat, but at least you put up a fight. Unlike humans.” He spits a loogie at me, as he says it. “Humans are worthless,” Ternnal snarls on the last word.
“That’s funny… aren’t you human? I mean, without that disgusting hat you’re just like them,” I respond with shallow breaths and a raging heart. One more step.
“I haven’t been human in thousands of years. My cap made me more.” His reply lights up his eyes and he raises the heavy cleaver over his head.
Waiting for the last possible moment, Ternnal leans in, pushing his full strength behind the blow. I step to the side turning at the same time and plant my foot in his ass as he passes by, adding a whistle for extra force.
Ternnal trips over the final tread and tumbles into the protection bubble. His cap slips off his head and lands next to me.
“No! Give me my cap back, I’ll do anything you want. I don’t need to kill you. I’ll make the others stop, I promise.” Ternnal crawls on his knees, hands clasped in front of him.
“Swear fealty to me for all time.” My eyes dart from Trennal to Wenn. “You, too, Wenn, or I’ll leave you in there to die.” I snarl.
Both gnomes’ mouths open and close like guppies. Ternnal sputters, “Yes, I swear to serve you for all time. You are my lady, I will obey you in all things.” He lowers his head and sniffles.