Fell Beasts and Fair

by C. J. Brightley

  “Evening, Mr. Greycoat,” he said. He worked hard to keep his voice calm and light. Nope. Nothing odd going on. Not a thing.

  The elf spun gracefully in his direction. His hand found a resting place on the hilt of his sword.

  “Ah, Mr. Underhill,” he said. He stared at Danny with his pale blue eyes. “I feared thou hadst forgotten our appointment.”

  “I ain’t forgot,” Danny said. “I been busy.”

  “Of course. I trust thou hast had a pleasant All Hallow’s Eve? Oh, and happy birthday.”

  Danny risked a glance toward his cabin’s door. No signs of movement. Good.

  “It ain’t my birthday till tomorrow, Mr. Greycoat. And if I might say, after the last dozen years, I’d have thought you’d figure out I can’t pay the rent right now.”

  Greycoat made a slashing gesture, and Danny felt a stabbing pain at his temple. He gasped and fell to one knee as the world spun around him.

  “I’ll thank thee to keep a respectful tone, pooka,” the elf said.

  Danny looked up at him and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. In the cabin, he heard the shuffling of feet, a stifled groan. His pointed ears instinctively pivoted toward the sound. If Greycoat heard, he didn’t give it away.

  “Do not forget, child,” the elf said. “Thou wert the one who bargained with me for seisin of this valley and the mortal world beyond it. Thou wert the one who agreed to my terms: one non-negotiable favor, paid every year on or before the thirty-first of October. Thou art too young to be so forgetful.”

  Yeah, I really should have thought that one through, Danny thought.

  He tried again. “Be that as it may, I’m busy. Tomorrow’s November first, you understand? The Pooka’s Day. Anything the deathlings leave in their fields after tonight is rightfully mine, but it won’t last forever. If I don’t take it now, I don’t eat this winter.”

  “So you keep telling me.”

  There was another stifled groan from the cabin, followed by a sharp shushing noise. Another trickle of sweat snaked down Danny’s neck.

  “Why can’t you come earlier?” the pooka said. “Why do you always gotta wait until the very last minute?”

  “Because I can,” the elf said, and smiled.

  “Yeah, that’s what I figured,” Danny muttered.

  “Now, down to business,” Greycoat said. “I propose—” He stopped abruptly and whipped around.

  Danny gazed at his cabin door. His heart sank.

  There was the little boy, halfway outside, one of Littleberry’s friends tugging at his arm, trying to hold him in.

  “Thou hast guests,” Greycoat said. His thin lips pulled back into a grin. “Thou didst not tell me.”

  “That’s ‘cause it weren’t none of your business,” Danny said.

  Greycoat either didn’t hear him or wasn’t paying attention. Instead, he addressed the boy.

  “Hello there!” he said, his voice dripping sugar.

  The little person, eyes wide with fright, kept pulling on the boy’s arm. The girl, maybe nine or ten, appeared in the doorway and set her hands on her brother’s shoulders. Neither seemed able to pull their eyes away from the elf. The will-o’-the-wisps bobbing above his head had them mesmerized.

  “Betsy!” their mother called from inside.

  Greycoat dropped to one knee.

  “I had meant to demand of thee a mortal child,” Greycoat said. “What sayest thou, Underhill? I would forgive thy yearly debt for two fine changelings.”

  “No!” Danny blurted.

  “Be sensible,” Greycoat said. “‘Twould spare thee time and effort to give me these. Thou couldst spend tomorrow collecting thy bounty in peace.”

  “Well, yeah, but—”

  “‘Twould be to their advantage as well, yes? They’re slaves: that much is clear. What have they to hold them to human earth? I could give them their hearts’ desires. Make them great. Powerful. Thou knowest this, Underhill.”

  Their mother came to the door. Danny tried to read her tear-stained expression: bewilderment, fear, awe. She’d heard everything the elf had said. She looked over her shoulder. Somewhere in there, her husband lay dying. What could she do for her kids alone in the world?

  If Danny had kids, he couldn’t imagine giving them up. But if he thought it would give them a better life?

  What was going on inside that head of hers?

  Greycoat reached into his topcoat pocket.

  “What beautiful children,” he gushed. “I have some chestnuts. Do you like chestnuts?”

  He produced a paper sack and poured some nuts into his hand. Faery food. One bite, and keeping those children out of Greycoat’s claws would be a hundred times harder.

  The little person grunted, but the boy was too much for him. He pulled free and stumbled onto the grass. His sister shuffled after him.

  A second little person appeared in the doorway. “Danny!” he squeaked.

  “Now wait right there!” Danny shouted. “Those kids are under my hospitality. You can’t just—”

  Greycoat gestured again. Danny bent over and grabbed the sides of his head. Visions of torment passed before his consciousness: sheets of frigid water pouring over him, blinding lights, cold iron spikes piercing his flesh.

  “Tone, Mr. Underhill,” he said coolly. “Besides, they are mere deathlings. The Law of Hospitality doth not apply to them.”

  “Well, I say it does!” Danny grunted.

  “Then what sayest thou to two years’ relief instead of one? Two years for two changelings. ‘Tis only fair.” His eyes never left the children.

  “What is thy name, young man?” he whispered.

  “T-Timofy.”

  The little boy reached tentatively toward the treat in Greycoat’s outstretched hand.

  “What sayest thou, Madam?” Greycoat asked the mother. “Shall I make thy children free? Shall I take them to a place no slaver can ever reach?”

  “Don’t say anything!” A voice called from the edge of the woods.

  Claudia appeared.

  Greycoat was on his feet in half a second.

  “He doesn’t care about your children, Susanna,” Claudia said.

  She nursed a block of wood in her hands, no bigger than a brick. It had been carved into a vaguely human form, but stooped and snarling and angry like a wolf. A tiny mirror, flashing in the moonlight, was fixed to the figure’s belly.

  What kind of magic is that? Danny wondered.

  The mother hesitated. She opened her mouth to say something, but her words couldn’t find their way out.

  “Thou dost these deathlings no service, young lady,” Greycoat said as his eyes trained on Claudia. He flexed the fingers of his right hand. His will-o’-the-wisps grew brighter and bluer.

  “M-miss Claudia,” the mother whimpered, “Lige…”

  She raised a hand, and the mother held her peace. “I’ve no quarrel with you, sir,” she said. “But those children are my responsibility, not his.” She gestured toward Danny with her chin. “And I mean to get them to Salem before daybreak.”

  Greycoat smirked.

  “Thou wouldst be wise to leave them be,” he said.

  “I was about to say the same thing to you.” She began to chant.

  “Thou art loyal, no doubt, and brave. Be thou not stupid. Thou canst not—”

  Claudia raised her voice. A mist began to swirl around her wooden figurine.

  Greycoat whipped forward his hand to unleash a faery blast.

  At the same time, something shot from the figurine—a glowing white ball of mist, but it was as fast as a cannonball.

  Greycoat flinched. His blast struck harmlessly high in the trees.

  Danny rolled out of the way. The mist had taken form: mostly human, but stooped over like something half-bestial and with an angry scowl. It sported a shield of animal hide on its left arm, and in its right hand it held a war club. It was on Greycoat in a heartbeat, pounding at the elf and driving him back from the cabin door. />
  Timothy stood stunned. Danny leaped forward and scooped the boy up in his arms.

  “This way!” he called to the big sister. He grabbed her by the collar and hauled her to the cabin door.

  Littleberry just beat him inside. The little person had Claudia’s satchel. He spied where the injured man lay on the floor and hurried to his side. Three other little folk were already gathered around him.

  “Tend to your brother,” Danny told the girl. In a second, he was back outside.

  By oak, ash, and thorn, he thought. What next?

  Greycoat was fending off the mist-man with his sword. The side of his head was swollen and bloody, and he held his left arm close to his body.

  Danny couldn’t help but enjoy the beating this strange woman was giving his landlord. Then realization set in.

  I am in so much trouble!

  He had no love for his landlord, but he sure didn’t need Greycoat’s buddy the Erlking as an enemy.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he called. “There’s no need for—”

  “Out of my way, pooka!” Claudia thundered. She advanced on Greycoat with steely determination in her eyes, which never left the mist-man she was controlling.

  Greycoat fell to one knee.

  “C-can’t we just talk about all this?”

  Claudia intoned another command. The mist-man hoisted Greycoat like a sack of potatoes and caught him in a headlock. Claudia smacked him on the hand with her walking stick. He dropped his sword, and she kicked it away.

  She walked around the elf and the mist-man, tracing a circle in the ground with the tip of her stick, chanting as she went. Then she reached into a pocket on her skirt, pulled out a small pouch, and strewed a fine, silvery powder around the perimeter.

  As she finished her chant, the air shimmered: her magic circle came to life. The mist-man dissolved into fog and blew away. Greycoat’s orbs of faery fire vanished just as quickly.

  Greycoat surged forward, but hit an invisible barrier where Claudia had drawn her circle. He recoiled as if from a hot stovetop.

  “Underhill!” he spat.

  “N-now… Now, Mr. Greycoat…” Danny started. “This lady, sh-she ain’t… I mean, I ain’t never seen her before… and—”

  “Get me out of here!”

  “Do it and face my hunter.” Claudia held up her figurine. Danny jumped back.

  “She’s bluffing!” Greycoat insisted. “No deathling witch can throw that much magic. She’s spent.”

  “You’re welcome to test the man’s theory, Mr. Underhill,” she said. The rumble in her voice shook Danny to the core. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  Claudia glanced toward the cabin. “I need to see about Elijah. Invite me in.”

  Danny’s eyes bounced between Claudia and Greycoat. Even injured, the elf was seething with anger. “M-miss Claudia, I—”

  “Now.”

  Claudia rummaged through her satchel and set a jumble of tiny packets and bottles on the floor beside Elijah on a handkerchief of homespun cotton. The little folk had cut away the leg of his trousers, exposing a cleaned but very nasty bite wound.

  The figurine Claudia had used to summon that “hunter” thing lay at her side.

  The mother knelt beside her husband.

  Littleberry and his friends huddled in the corner, trying to distract or entertain the two children. They shot Danny worried glances.

  Claudia set a short, thick candle at the wounded man’s head.

  “Light that candle,” she commanded.

  Outside, Egil Greycoat cursed in his native tongue.

  One of Littleberry’s friends squeaked with fright.

  Danny pinched his brow. As if it weren’t bad enough he was caught in this mess…

  “What am I gonna do?” he muttered. “I am in so much trouble!”

  “Underhill!” Greycoat barked.

  “I said light that candle!” Claudia rumbled. “I don’t have all day!”

  Danny stooped over and produced a spark of fire in his fingers—not faery fire, but a real fire that ignited the candle’s wick when he touched it.

  “He’s right,” Danny whispered. “You ain’t got much magic left.”

  “Plenty to deal with the likes of you,” Claudia said. She began mixing ingredients in a wooden bowl. “Fire magic isn’t exactly my specialty—but that doesn’t mean I can’t turn you into something tasty if the mood strikes me. Understand?”

  “Now listen here!” Danny said.

  Claudia turned away. She stirred her mixture into a pungent salve while chanting under her breath.

  “I ain’t done nothing to you!” Danny continued. “You’re the one trapping my landlord in a magic circle, barging into my house…”

  She started rubbing the salve into the wound on Elijah’s leg.

  “By oak, ash, and thorn, woman! Egil Greycoat is a pretty important fae in these parts! Sure, I don’t like him, but I’m stuck with him, ain’t I? I figure you and your passengers will be moving out as soon as he’s able to walk.” He gestured toward the wounded man. “But what about me?”

  “Underhill!” Greycoat called from outside. “Get me out of here this instant!”

  “You see?” Danny said. He shook his head and leaned back against the wall.

  Elijah expelled a breath. Claudia caught his wife’s eyes and nodded. She smiled and started to weep.

  “Now you listen, Mr. Underhill,” Claudia said. She rose to her feet. “You left open a portal into the Wonder. My passengers knew nothing of this world or its dangers—until now. If it wasn’t Greycoat, it might have been any number of things: ogres, water panthers… I’ll bet there are even horned serpents around here. Am I right?”

  “Now, wait—”

  “I’ve already told you these people are my responsibility. I promised to see them through to Canada, and I mean to do it.”

  “Underhill!”

  Danny sighed. The throbbing pain that had been creeping into his head finally exploded. “Miss Claudia, I understand about keeping promises. I really do. But… Egil Greycoat!”

  “Underhill, come thou forth at once, or thou art a dead man!”

  Danny crumbled to the floor, his head in his hands.

  “What are we gonna do, Danny?” Littleberry asked. “Without you to look after us…”

  “I know, buddy. Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out.”

  He opened his eyes. Claudia was looking at him. Her expression had softened.

  “Don’t you have passengers to look after?”

  She glanced over her shoulder. Elijah had drifted off to sleep with his head in his wife’s lap.

  “Underhill!” Greycoat shouted, and followed up with a string of curse words.

  “I didn’t mean to be rude earlier, Mr. Underhill,” Claudia said. “I’m… rather passionate about my job.”

  “Yeah,” Danny said. “I guess I can’t blame you for that. I take it you’re a runaway, too?”

  She shook her head. “My mother was a slave. I was born free.”

  “Your ma, she escaped up north?”

  “She… escaped.”

  Danny quirked an eyebrow. “You mean into the Wonder.”

  She nodded. “Soon after she met my father. But that’s a story for another day.” Her gaze drifted to Littleberry, who still cowered over Danny’s shoulder.

  “These little folk are your responsibility.”

  “You might say that,” Danny agreed. “We look after each other. That’s what happens in farm country—you probably know something about that. Neighbors help each other out.”

  “You rally together,” Claudia offered.

  Danny nodded. “Anybody has a barn to raise or tobacco to cut or hogs to butcher, people are proud to chip in. It’s a point of honor.”

  “We’re family,” Littleberry said, puffing out his chest.

  “The little folks are the best neighbors you’d ever want, but when it comes to dealing with the likes of Greycoat—”

  “You p
rotect them,” Claudia said. “And by putting you in danger, it appears I’ve put them in danger as well. I assure you, Mr. Underhill, that was never my intention.”

  “Underhill!”

  Danny sighed. “You got a long hike ahead if you plan to make Salem tonight.”

  Claudia stole another glance at her sleeping passenger.

  “Elijah needs his rest,” she said. “And it seems I need to help you find a way out of this mess I’ve put you in.”

  Claudia’s hunter hoisted Danny by his belt and collar and flung him through the cabin door. He flew a good ten feet, hit the ground with a crunch, and rolled two or three times before stopping flat on his back.

  “Underhill!” Greycoat called.

  The hunter bounded after Danny. Claudia stood defiantly in the doorway.

  The mist-man scooped Danny up and slammed him against a tree.

  “Oof!” Danny gasped. Take it easy, you misty oaf!

  “And never trouble my passengers again!” Claudia rumbled. She held her figurine aloft. The hunter dissolved into fog and wafted away.

  Danny slumped to the ground.

  Claudia disappeared inside the cabin. Seconds later, a parade of figures departed: Claudia, Elijah limping beside her, Betsy, and Susanna taking up the rear with a sleeping Timothy in her arms.

  They made for the mushroom ring and passed out of sight.

  “Underhill, dost thou hear me?”

  “I hear you, Mr. Greycoat,” Danny muttered. He summoned an orb of faery fire into his hand. “That witch was… just too much for me.”

  He struggled to his feet and stumbled toward his landlord, still trapped inside Claudia’s magic circle.

  “So it appeareth,” Greycoat said. “Alas, those youngsters would have completed thy yearly charge. I fear thou must find me another deathling child, Underhill.”

  “Another one, sir?”

  “Aye. That was the favor I bespoke. Or hath the witch’s enchantments addled thy brain?”

  “No, sir,” Danny said. He kept his eyes down. “It’s just—”

  “Just what, Mr. Underhill? The terms of our agreement haven’t changed this past hour.”

  “Of course not, sir. It’s just…”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, I sort of figured you’d ask me to set you free from that circle.”