“Yeah, it’s…it’s really pretty,” he said abruptly, sitting up. “Just wait until you see the forests. Oh, and the streams. Everything here is…perfect.” He stared off to the side where the fox had been sitting, but it was nowhere in sight. Playing cat and mouse, then. Yup, definitely not the time, nor the place. Not now, not ever. She would make sure of that.
At the sound of spluttering giggles, he turned to find Sir Kipling sitting on Lily’s chest, giving her nose a thorough cleaning. He must have been sneaking about in the grass and, having completed his inspection of the immediate area, decided to make himself useful.
“Come on, Kip. Baths can wait. We need to make tracks.”
Sebastian got to his feet, reaching down to help Lily to hers. She was still rather giggly, and he wondered how long the effect would last. Not that he minded this happier, more lively version, but he was rather fond of her prickly side. After all, easygoing people weren’t much fun to tease.
With a sigh, he looked down and spotted Sir Kipling, head low, fluffy hindquarters skyward, about to pounce on an unsuspecting toad. “Oi!” He snapped his fingers in the cat’s direction. The toad, thus alerted, seized the opportunity to make a quick getaway. Lily’s feline glared up at him in consternation, but Sebastian wasn’t impressed. It was hard to be intimidated by a cat whose belly you rubbed on a regular basis. “I wouldn’t hunt anything here if I were you. Not all the animals are as they seem. That toad, for instance, would have singed your whiskers off…or made your tail disappear, depending on how vindictive it was feeling.”
Lily giggled again. She put a hand over her mouth to try and suppress it, but it leaked out around the edges, probably on account of the look of abject horror on Sir Kipling’s face.
“Humph,” the feline huffed. “Laugh all you want. Just wait until you touch the wrong leaf and break out in purple spots or grow a third ear. See if you get any pity from me then.” The insulted cat turned away from his mistress, twisting around to clean his tail, as if that would somehow ensure its continued visibility.
Sebastian grinned, then did a double take, eyes widening to saucers and jaw dropping open. Was this place playing tricks on his ears, or had he just heard Sir Kipling talk?
“Uh, Kip. Say something.”
“Excuse me?” The cat looked at him archly.
“I heard that!” Sebastian exclaimed, pointing at the cat excitedly. “I heard you talk! I mean I understood you, or whatever. Why can I understand you?” He looked between the cat and Lily, brow creasing. He hadn’t really heard words, more like a whining meow, but the memory of meaning shone in his mind as if he’d physically heard the cat speak.
Lily looked as confused as he felt, which was good since it meant she was starting to think straight. She must be adjusting to the air. It would be unwise to go gallivanting off into Melthalin with someone high as a kite who wanted to touch every shiny thing they saw. The shiny things around here tended to bite.
“I don’t know. Maybe…” She trailed off, face transforming into that faraway expression she always got whenever she was looking without her eyes. Wizard-y stuff, in other words. There was silence, then a small gasp escaped her lips. “It’s so strong,” she murmured.
“What? What’s strong?” Sebastian asked, sharing a glance of mutual annoyance with Sir Kipling whose tail was flicking back and forth impatiently.
Without replying, Lily cupped her hands in front of her as if catching falling snowflakes. Lips moving soundlessly, eyes staring into nothingness, she looked like she was casting, but he hadn’t known she could do it without words. At least, he’d never seen her do it before.
Watching her intently, he saw a flicker like a spark of electricity between her palms, and suddenly the night was lit with a blinding flash of light. Startled, he cried out, hand rising automatically to shield his face. He heard Lily say, “Oops,” and the light diminished.
Night vision completely ruined, he lowered his hand to see a small ball of sparking light in Lily’s palm.
“Turn that off,” he hissed. “Do you want every fae in the area to know we’re here?”
The light vanished. “My magic—the Source—it’s so strong here. Inside me, around me, everywhere. It’s like I’ve been drinking from a dripping faucet all my life and now I’m standing in a tropical downpour!” She laughed in delight, looking up and raising her hands to the sky as if she could feel the raindrops on her skin.
Alright, so maybe she still had some adjusting to do.
“That’s great, really great,” he said, reaching out to catch her forearm and towing her in the direction the fox had disappeared. “Now, we’d better get out of here before someone or something comes to investigate your little fireworks show. Not all the fae are as fond of humans as Thiriel. Actually, none of them are, but some are a bit more open about expressing the un-fond feelings in their shriveled little hearts.”
By the time they’d reached the edge of the meadow, he’d regained enough of his night vision to see where they were going. The tall grass had been a bit much for Sir Kipling at their hurried pace, so Lily had picked him up and he rode on her shoulders, claws dug into her jacket and fluffy tail waving about as he used it for balance.
Sebastian stopped, holding out a hand to catch Lily as she inevitably ran into him in the dark. Making a shushing noise, he stilled, letting the sounds and smells of the forest surround him. It was unusually quiet, but then it was September, and most of the insects had died or gone into hibernation. An owl hooted in the distance, the sound mixing with the normal rustlings and whispers of a forest at night—though normal didn’t exactly apply when it came to the fae realm. He smelled pine needles and damp leaves, so he knew they were somewhere in the northern hemisphere. Not that it mattered. Thiriel’s court had no geographical location. It wasn’t something you found, it was something you were drawn into.
Eyes searching the darkness, he finally spotted what he’d been hoping to see: a faint silver glow reflecting off leaves and undergrowth. It approached slowly, getting brighter and brighter until the silver fox emerged from a nearby bush.
“I figured you’d be back,” Sebastian said sarcastically.
You always did like your little games.
Sebastian snorted. That was rich, Thiriel accusing him of playing games.
“What?” Lily eyed the fox with suspicion. “What’s funny?”
“Nothing,” Sebastian said quickly. Feeling defiant, he sought Lily’s hand in the shadows and entwined his fingers with hers. It was very dark in the woods, and he didn’t want her to get lost. At least that’s what he would have said to her if she’d protested, but she seemed to be of the same mind and gripped his hand tightly.
They set off after the fox, forced to move slowly through the dense wood. Sir Kipling had jumped down from Lily’s shoulder, able to move more easily on the forest floor and preferring to make his own way rather than get smacked in the face with tree branches.
“There’s usually more light than this,” Sebastian whispered as they wove between the trees. “But I think you scared them away with your spell. Give it another fifteen minutes and they’ll be back.” He didn’t elaborate on who “they” were. She would figure it out soon.
Sure enough, after a time spent stumbling around with only a bit of silver glow to illuminate their path, lights did indeed begin to appear. Lights, meaning pixies. Pixie was a general term he used for small fae, and almost all species could glow. He wasn’t too firm on the biological details, he just knew that pixies loved playing with light, especially when it meant showing off to each other.
At first they kept their distance, appearing as tiny, multicolored pinpricks of light blinking on and off throughout the wood like fireflies. Then their curiosity kicked in—the eternal bane of all pixies—and the nearer ones started to gather, slowly at first, then in increasing numbers. Their whispered giggles and peeps of interest sounded like a quiet symphony of crickets who’d been drinking too much caffeine.
Lily stopped, watching them with wonder and not a bit of nervousness. Wanting her to maintain a healthy respect for fae in general, he decided not to point out that pixies were, by and large, harmless, though they could be mischievous when grouped in large numbers. They tended to egg each other on.
In fact…he watched carefully as several of the braver ones flitted forward to investigate the newcomer. They were more shy about him, sensing his fae magic and knowing he wasn’t just a defenseless human. As soon as the surrounding pixies saw that their fellows were unharmed and having much more fun than they, the swarm converged. Lily yelped in alarm as she was suddenly surrounded by dozens of tiny creatures, most smaller than her pinkie, some even smaller than her fingernail. They inspected her from head to toe, crawling inside her bag—no doubt looking for edible morsels—and playing with the loose strands of her hair.
That was the last straw for Lily. She waved her arms above her head, attempting to ward off the inquisitive swarm. But they just made it into a game, seeing who could get past her defenses to tug at her hair and ears.
“Ack!—Sebastian—get them—off me!” Lily’s words were punctuated with more arm waving.
“Aw, be a good sport, Lil. They’re just having a little fun. Besides, they’ll like you better if you play with them.” Sebastian grinned, pausing to enjoy the spectacle.
Then a group of the little troublemakers realized her glasses weren’t attached to her face and attempted to make off with them. Lily swore, grabbing for her spectacles and holding them tightly to her face as the rest of the pixies realized there was a new game to play and joined in the tug-of-war.
Sebastian decided it was time to step in before Lily accidentally hurt one of them.
“Alright, alright, break it up.” He came closer, waving a hand carefully around Lily’s face until the thieves were forced to flee. But as soon as he turned around, they were back, and in greater numbers. The look on Lily’s face was no longer annoyed. It was scared. Sebastian knew the pixies weren’t malicious, just like little children: focused on the moment and incapable of realizing the consequences of their actions. He wasn’t sure why they were so interested in Lily—perhaps they could sense she was a wizard?—but, if he didn’t act soon, someone was going to get hurt.
Before he could do a thing, a larger streak of light approached through the trees, moving so fast it was a blur. With a furious war cry—a drawn-out squeak to Sebastian’s ears—it whirled about Lily’s head, scattering the smaller pixies like bowling pins as they scrambled to get out of the line of fire. It then landed on her head and squeaked a diatribe of threats and insults at the retreating pinpricks of light. The swarm had dispersed, and though a few still hovered at a distance, they seemed to realize it was time to get back to their own business.
“P—Pip? Is that you?” Lily asked, voice only slightly shaky.
The pixie squeaked and hopped from Lily’s head to her shoulder, giving her a sympathetic pat on the neck—her ears had already been tugged enough for one night.
Sebastian laughed. “You little pipsqueak! How did you know we were here?”
Pip launched into a complicated explanation that he could barely follow—it had taken years of practice to understand pixies even when they were talking slowly—but he got the general idea. “Wait, you were sent? What do you mean they knew she was coming? Who—”
More squeaking.
“Alright, alright, calm down. Of course you can come with us. I would have asked you anyway, to keep those little buggers off.” He gestured around them and several peeps of alarm were heard as lights vanished into the underbrush. “You seem to have taught them a lesson.” He winked at Pip, who did a few excited loop-de-loops before coming back to land on Lily’s shoulder.
“So, care to fill me in?” Lily raised an eyebrow and Sebastian’s smile faded just a little. This was going to be complicated.
“Come on, we’d better keep moving, I’ll explain while we walk.”
They headed off again after the silver fox, who had stopped to watch in interest as they were mobbed by pixies. The wood was lighter now, faintly lit as far as the eye could see with various fae going about their nightly business. Pip stayed with Lily, throwing a few choice squeaks at any other pixie that got too inquisitive. Sebastian grinned to himself. For a pixie, or even just a fae in general, Pip was unusually affectionate. And it was obvious she had become quite fond of Lily—a sentiment he shared. He only wished he could express it as freely as Pip did.
“So…” Lily’s tone was back to normal: businesslike and slightly peeved.
Sebastian sighed, trying to decide how to proceed. If he said too much, it would confuse and worry her. But too little, and she would be unprepared. “I guess the first thing you should know is who’s in charge around here. Now, I haven’t met any of them except Thiriel, but the fae are ruled by two kings and two queens. Don’t think of them like human kings and queens, though. They aren’t married, they’re more like siblings, or…well two sides of the same coin. They’re dualities of the same aspect. All of the fae are ruled by these dual aspects of growth and decay—”
“Like creation and destruction? Life and death?” Lily asked, sounding interested.
Sebastian sighed. “No. Not like that at all. I know the difference seems arbitrary to us, but it’s very important. Thiriel is the fae queen of decay, the opposite of growth. Not creation, growth. She is not the aspect of destruction, but decomposition. Creation and destruction are intentional things done by someone to something. They don’t happen on their own. Thiriel doesn’t destroy things, she simply breaks down things that have already been destroyed. Like how leaves on the forest floor decompose into dirt.”
“Okay…I’m following you so far.”
“Maybe it’ll make more sense when you understand that the fae are stewards, not rulers. Their job is to see order maintained, rules followed. They make sure the wind blows and the rain falls, that plants grow and produce fruit. They aren’t the ones who created the order, or the rules, they just make sure nature functions according to its purpose.”
“But…mundane science can explain natural phenomena in terms of chemical reactions and the laws of physics. So what do the fae have to do with it?”
Sebastian shrugged, reaching up to hold aside a branch for her to go under. “I don’t know that much about science. I’m a witch, not a scholar. But you know, as well as I do, that magic and science aren’t contradictory. They’re just two ways of looking at the same thing. All I know is that the fae are part of the earth’s natural workings. They are nature.”
“Then why are they all here instead of living among humans?” Lily asked
“Well…” he rubbed the back of his neck, at a loss.
Careful, caretaker. Her eyes have not been opened. She will not understand.
Of course Thiriel was listening in. That’s what glowing fox messengers were for, right?
“They’re mostly hiding from demons,” he finally said. There, that was true. “Demons can’t enter the fae realm, at least not without help. From what I understand, fae can do a lot of what they need to do here, and what they can’t, well,” he shrugged. “It’s easy enough to pop back and forth.”
“But why would they need to hide?”
Dang it, if she would only stop asking questions.
“You should know that,” he shot back. “Didn’t they teach it in wizard school?”
“You mean didn’t Madam Barrington mention it?” Lily said testily.
“Er, yeah.”
“Not exactly. Our focus was on the wizarding arts, the use of Enkinim and dimmu runes.”
He threw up his hands. “Okay, okay. I get it. Magical Creatures 101, coming right up. So you know there are four types of beings who use magic: humans, fae, demons, and angels. Well, three if you count demons as just fallen angels, which they are. Anyway, humans are the only ones who, you know, draw power directly from the Source, or whatever it is you call it. The others are literally made of magic
. They can only use what powers they were created with. That’s why there’s high fae and low fae, greater demons and lesser demons.”
Lily nodded, stepping carefully around a thorn bush.
“So, demons, being demons, always want more power. They can get it two ways: possessing humans or corrupting fae. Poor little guys like Pip would be in real trouble if a demon got hold of them. It doesn’t happen often, but it happens. Fae always have to be on their guard in the human realm. Humans are a piece of cake to hide from compared to demons.”
Seeming satisfied with the explanation, Lily remained silent, probably mulling it all over. Sebastian was about to continue his general overview of fae society when she asked another question.
“So who makes the rules?”
“What?” Sebastian’s train of thought was derailed by the seemingly out-of-the-blue change in topic.
“You said the fae keep the rules, not make them. So who makes the rules? Who’s in charge of the fae?”
Sebastian didn’t reply. He couldn’t, really. He didn’t know how.
A yip from the silver fox saved him, drawing their attention to the side. He’d been so absorbed with their conversation he’d forgotten to follow their guide. They’d walked straight past where the glowing creature had stopped.
“Come on, this must be it.” He waved Lily over, and Sir Kipling appeared from behind a bush, sticks and leaves tangled in his long fur.
They approached to see the entrance of a low cave in the hillside. It looked dry, at least as far as could be seen by the fox’s glow. The smooth floor was covered in a thick layer of leaves and forest debris.
“You’re expecting me to go in there?” Lily asked, aghast. “There are probably spiders. I do not cope well with spiders.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll eat them for you,” Sir Kipling offered gallantly, sidling over to rub on her ankle, then rearing to put his forepaws on her leg in a silent plea to be picked up.
“I feel so much safer,” she muttered, though with a tiny smile as she bent to retrieve her cat in shining armor. Or at least a shiny collar.
Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Legends Page 12