by L. L. Bower
“You’ve got a little while before dinner.” She sniffs. “Have you been running?”
I must smell rank.
“Yes, trying to get back into shape. If I have time, I’ll take a bath before dinner.”
No reason to tell her about the silver-tipped arrow and worry her.
“Good idea.” She nods.
Apparently I do smell.
After my bath, I dress for dinner and head to the dining room, where Baru plans on telling us what happened to him after the leviathan and behemoth took off after him.
Rampart pads along beside me as I enter the dining room. I notice Baru is limping but otherwise seems okay. Simean, Geryen, Brambel and Tumea all join us at the table. Except for the oreads and Olea, everyone who escaped Galdo’s prison is here tonight, although Olea’s empty chair reminds us all how fragile life is.
With dark circles under his eyes, Grog comes in late, looking like he hasn’t slept in days, even though I know he said he was going to nap after we sparred.
Rampart sniffs at him and growls. What’s got my wolf so upset? “Rampart, leave Grog alone!”
Rampart continues to growl low but slinks over to lie down at my feet.
After saying grace, the serving trays sail out of the kitchen to settle on the sideboard.
Then the trays circulate around the table. The aroma of roast chicken, mashed sweet potatoes with cinnamon and brown sugar, fresh fruit salad, mixed vegetables and homemade rolls makes me salivate. My stomach growls and I’m hungrier than when I sat down.
As before, we think of what we want, like chicken, then how many pieces, and the magic does the rest. It’s odd to see steaming pieces of chicken float through the air to land gently on my plate.
Brambel speaks first as our plates are being filled. “I don’t think I can stand to rest anymore. I’ve slept more in the past two days than in the whole rest of my life.” He giggles. “I’m ready to go back to my family.”
Frown lines appear between Crisa’s brows. “Are you sure you’re well enough to make the trip?”
Brambel points to the vegetables and a spoonful of them transfers to his plate. “I think so. I’m feeling much better.” He raises his eyebrows. “I’ve invited Simean to go with me because he’s feeling better too. He says he’s up for the trip and wants to renew the friendships he made among the gnomes when he was champion. Some of the older gnomes will remember him because, as you know, our kind lives to be several hundred years old.”
I didn’t know about gnome longevity. And I remember Simean saying he didn’t age while he was in limbo.
Brambel shakes his head. “Neither of us is up to full strength, but we believe we can make the journey.”
Crisa offers, “I’ll send some healing potions with you that will help speed your recovery. I can also conjure up a couple of horses, so you don’t have to walk.”
Brambel giggles. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
My gnome friend stands up with a little hop, much like his old agile self. “We’re going to build a house in our village for Simean because he can’t fit into our tiny houses. My people will enjoy building him a human-size residence, complete with gardens, of course. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”
I hang my head. “I’m jealous, Simean. I had a real home, once.” Then before I get too maudlin, I add, “And I’ll miss your joy of life, Brambel, but I’m glad you’re healthy enough to go home to your family.”
The bowl of sweet potatoes hovers over my plate, and I watch a large spoonful deposit itself on my plate.
Brambel grins at me. “Without you here, it’d be too quiet and serious for me anyway. No one to tell my crazy jokes to.” He then walks around the table. I stand and thrust my hand out for a shake, but the little guy clasps my legs for a hug instead. A little sob escapes his lips.
My face feels hot. I bend over, grab his shoulders and pull him away to look him in the eye. “I hope our paths cross again soon.”
With a solemn tone, he says, “May the fairies be with you.” Brambel taught me this numinal benediction in one of our backyard meetings many weeks ago.
I finish the traditional expression with, “And may you feel the Creator’s care.”
He smiles. “You know you’ve become a true resident of Fairyland, Calen, when you’ve learned our expressions and customs.”
I say, for everyone’s benefit, “Fairyland does feel like home, and I can’t imagine it being otherwise.” Despite the ambivalent feelings I’ve had about being the human champion, Fairyland is as much a part of my life as the human world was. This revelation shocks me to the core because I thought I’d never belong anywhere.
As we enjoy another sumptuous dinner prepared by Crisa, I tell everyone the story of how we saved the dragons, into which Mordea injects some additional detail. I explain how Brutus died, how Galdo captured me, how the sorcerer was rendered magically impotent by Crisa, and how the ground gnomes rescued me.
Tumea pumps his fist into the air. “Yeah, glad to hear Galdo’s been neutralized and that you’re safe now, Calen. I guess we’re all safer now.”
Mordea scratches his chin. “I wondered what happened to you and Crisa after I was deposited in the middle of the forest, all alone. One minute I was in the cave and the next I was stuck in a deep thicket.”
Crisa takes a sip of lemonade. “I was teleported into a patch of poison ivy by Galdo’s magic.” She scratches her arm as if in remembrance.
“That makes me itch just to think about it,” Mordea remarks. He swallows a bite of cantaloupe before adding, “I came back here to the mountain, hoping to find you both. When neither of you were here, I started back to the prison. A hummingbird found me along the way and told me all was well and not to worry. He told me to wait for you at the compound.”
Crisa looks at Mordea. “Before teleporting back to the caves, I sent you that hummingbird. While you’d have been a wonderful addition in rescuing Calen, the gnomes and I had it covered. I didn’t want to risk more lives.”
She pauses. “Calen, do you have something else to tell them?”
I raise a finger. “Ah, yes. I’ve been invited to visit the fairy king.”
I hear murmurs of “Excellent” and “Wow” echo around the table.
Simean says, “Way to go.” Then he leans forward, stabs a piece of chicken with his fork and states, “I want to go too. I never got to meet the king when I was champion, although we fought on the same battlefield.”
Tumea gulps lemonade, and his eye twinkles. “I’m healed enough to travel. You need an awesome tomte with you.”
Geryen grunts. “And an amazing giant.” He crams a whole roll into his cavernous mouth.
“If Tumea gets to go, so do I.” Mordea punctures his meat with a fork and saws at it with his knife.
Forks poised, Claymont and Baru look at each other and then chime in unison, “We want to go.”
“I’m sorry,” Crisa says, “but none of you can make the trip with us.”
Everyone starts to protest, but Crisa raises her hand. “The king invited only Calen and me. We’ve received special permission from the king to take Rampart because of his status as Calen’s protector. He can also defend us from bogles and sense the presence of darkness.” She frowns. “Ours will be an arduous and hazardous journey, and the more people we have traveling with us, the more difficult it becomes to keep our destination hidden.”
Silence descends over the table. I can tell by the looks on everyone’s faces that no one’s happy.
Crisa swallows a tiny mouthful of sweet potatoes before adding, “King Aubrey allows very few non-fairies to know the location of the fairy capital and his palace, which has been a well-guarded secret for centuries. That’s how he’s been able to avoid attacks by the dark ones and keep the fairies’ numbers high, even in times of war.
“Outside of the fairies who live there, I’m one of very few who can find the capital. To be honest, I’m surprised the king is allowing Calen and Rampart
to learn the city’s location.”
Grog wipes his mouth with his arm and frowns. “Grog is Calen bodyguard.”
“I know,” she says, “and I realize what a fine bodyguard you are. But the fairies won’t understand if we bring a dark creature with us, even though we all know you aren’t dark. That confusion could jeopardize the whole journey, as well as put you in grave danger.”
Grog hangs his head and frowns.
Crisa says, “What I need, Grog, is someone to stay here, someone I can trust to guard and protect this place, when so many are recovering from illness and injury. Could you do that for me?”
Grog draws himself up to his full height and puffs out his chest. “Grog protect Crisa house.”
“Good. After dinner, I’ll show you my security systems and how to activate and de-activate them. Now I won’t need to worry about this place while I’m gone.”
She stands, goes over to Grog’s chair and kisses the bugbear on the forehead. “Thank you.” It’s hard to tell if the hairy creature blushes, but his mouth curls up on one side like he’s pleased. She goes back to her chair.
Mordea’s eyes light up. “You said Baru had been through a lot.” He looks over at the merman. “I, for one, am dying to hear all about it.”
A murmur of agreement filters through the group. Baru smiles and says, “I’m excited to tell you about my adventures.”
Another piece of chicken deposits itself on his plate as he takes a deep breath and launches into his story.
Chapter 21 – A Harrowing Encounter
I watch Baru’s skin turn a darker blue as he begins his tale. While training the merfolk, I learned how their deeper skin tones signal heightened emotion.
“Right after I left you in the forest,” he starts, “and even though swimming, not running, is my fastest mode of travel, I sped over the forest floor as fast as I could, with the leviathan and behemoth following.”
His fish eyes gleam, and he takes a small bite of meat. He chews for a moment and says to Crisa, “Hmm, I usually eat sushi for dinner. This is a different, blander kind of meat than you served before. What’s it called?”
“Chicken,” Crisa answers, “a type of poultry.”
“Hmm, a bird.” He swallows. “I like it.” He grabs the salt shaker and dispenses it liberally over his plate.
“Go on with your story,” Mordea urges.
“I soon realized I needn’t worry about my speed. I had to continually slow down to allow the great beasts to catch up and not lose my scent, so they wouldn’t circle back to the rest of you. But I hadn’t gone far before my feet became cut and sore. I’m not used to climbing over sharp rocks and splintered logs. In fact, I’m less comfortable with feet than a tail. As you may know, my legs become a tail in water.”
He pops a lump of sweet potatoes in his mouth and gulps them down. “I recognized I couldn’t run much farther without foot protection. I sped up to gain distance from my pursuers and headed for a nearby pixie village I’d visited before.”
He swirls the lemonade in its glass and then guzzles it, belches and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
Crisa wrinkles her nose and looks away. His table manners leave something to be desired. I’m guessing he doesn’t eat at a table much.
Baru plops his glass on the table. “Pixies, as you know, are master leatherworkers. I explained my plight to a craftsman, who asked my shoe size. But I’d never worn shoes....” He shrugs. “I didn’t know how to answer.”
Baru scoops up a forkful of vegetables and chomps on them.
Claymont takes this opportunity to ask, “Could you pass the salt?”
As Claymont douses all his food with salt, I realize that both mermen are probably used to taking in salt water with their meals. As I look around the table, everyone else is quietly eating.
“Anyway, he measured my feet and then offered me a fine pair of hiking boots made of thick leather with steel toes. He said they were also waterproof on the outside. And they fit perfectly.”
He smiles, revealing spinach that’s stuck on a tooth. While none of us says anything, Claymont scrapes his tooth with his fingernail to hint what Baru should do to get the spinach out.
Baru ignores the gesture. “As payment, I offered him a colorful, phosphorescent shell I removed from a deep ocean trench. I’d heard that pixies love shiny things, and the shoemaker was thrilled. He said he’d display the shell in a prominent place in his home and become the talk of the village.”
Baru pauses, takes a large bite of roll, masticates with his mouth open, swallows and then continues. “I bid the pixie goodbye and started off again in my smart new shoes, before my pursuers reached the village. Circling back around, I lead them away from the pixies.
“With those boots on, I was able to climb hills, wade through undergrowth and slog through mud. I kept a few hundred yards ahead of the beasts, and with my keen sense of smell, I knew where those awful creatures were at all times.”
Then he sits up stun-rod straight and speaks faster, the pitch of his voice rising. “As I crossed a clearing, a large shadow passed over me. I looked up and saw what I thought was a bird or dragon. I believed the creature to be scouting and wondered if it would transmit my location to my pursuers.”
“So what did you do next?” Geryen asks, as I place a hunk of chicken on Rampart’s plate on the floor, and he wolfs it down, pun intended.
Baru clears his throat. “Since the beasts were now far away from all of you, I decided to find some water in which to hide. The leviathan and behemoth couldn’t track me underwater, and I hoped neither could whatever was flying above me. Lake Wostall, which was nearby, wasn’t deep enough. I wanted the safety of Lake Ponderly.”
A bead of sweat forms on Baru’s dark blue upper lip as he gulps a big mouthful of lemonade. “I headed west for that lake, but the creature overhead managed to follow me, even through the trees. It swooped low from time to time in a threatening way, but I dodged most of its strikes. Unfortunately, in one of its swoops, it snagged me with its claws, and I saw the monstrosity clearly. It was a gryphon.”
Everyone gasps, and Tumea almost chokes on his food.
“I thought gryphons went extinct long ago,” Mordea says.
In a college mythology class, I learned that gryphons are giant raptors with the bodies, back legs and tails of lions and the heads, front legs and wings of eagles. A gryphon’s eyesight is eight times sharper than a human’s, so it’s no wonder this creature was able to follow Baru’s movements through the forest.
“Well, at least one gryphon survived. I have proof.” He stands up, turns around, and lifts up his shirt. Across his back are three deep slash marks that are red, swollen and scabbed over.
My appetite goes out the window, if this mountain had any windows, that is.
Tumea wipes his mouth with his napkin and winces. “That must have been painful.”
Baru nods. “It was like being cut with shards of glass. The good news is that, before he could strike again, I dove into Lake Ponderly where the cold water soothed my wounds. But the danger didn’t end there.”
The lemonade pitcher makes the rounds again, filling up everyone’s glasses.
He continues, “I headed straight for the bottom, but the gryphon skimmed the water’s surface, searching for me. I didn’t think it could follow me into the depths. Even so, I kept an eye on the darkling until it disappeared.”
The merman wipes his mouth again with the back of his hand and pushes his chair back from the table. “I only had a moment’s respite, however. The lake bottom contains only a few large, bottom-feeding fish and aquatic plants. So I was able to see the basilisk slithering toward me from quite a distance. But there was nowhere to hide.”
Geryen exclaims, “Great bloody toes!” in a thundering deep voice that makes me jump. “First a gryphon, now a basilisk.”
I toss Rampart another piece of chicken and shudder. “I once encountered a basilisk and hope to never see one again.”
> A basilisk is a huge snake that’s also part lizard and part bird. It has neck feathers, a beak, horns and a hard, scaly body that almost nothing can penetrate. To kill it, I cut off its head with Noblesse while looking in a mirror because with basilisks, looks can kill, or in my case, debilitate for a while, until my fairy-touched body heals itself.
Baru continues, “We merfolk encounter basilisks quite often in the water. They always attack, but we can outswim them. Not this time.” He sighs.
“Because I was in such a hurry to get away from the gryphon, I didn’t shed my clothes before I dove in. Not only was I wearing clothes, my feet were trapped in my new, now water-logged boots. So I couldn’t convert my legs to a tail and was forced to swim like a human.”
He shakes his head. “So you can imagine how my hard my heart beat when I saw the basilisk and knew I couldn’t outswim it. But I also knew something about this lake that I hoped the basilisk didn’t. I knew where another monstrosity resided that would frighten even the basilisk.”
Baru pauses here, I suspect for dramatic effect, and looks around the table, every eye on him now.
Tumea motions at Baru with his hand and demands, “Continue, will you?!”
“All right, if you insist.” Baru grins. “I headed for the area where I’d last seen the lake’s monster. He lives in a small volcanic depression on the bottom and hides under the silt to catch prey unaware. I’d have to be careful though, so he didn’t think I too was dinner.”
Baru leans toward the table to take another gulp from his glass of lemonade. “When I saw two eyes peering out from inside the lava cave above the silt, I glided toward the rear of the giant and hovered overhead out of his range of sight to wait as the basilisk approached. I’d have to time everything just right, if I hoped to get the monster to attack the basilisk instead of me.
“One advantage of having my clothes on was that I still had the knife in my belt that Calen gave me in the caves while we were escaping. My plan was to stab the basilisk, without looking at it, of course. Its blood in the water would draw out the monster.”