The War of Odds

by Linell Jeppsen

  Hiss growled, “It’s not easy to carry a passenger and eat breakfast at the same time, you know.”

  “I know, I’m sorry, it’s just…” Pollo shuddered as the mouse’s tail suddenly disappeared into Hiss’ mouth. “Look, she getting away!”

  Both Hiss and Pollo watched as the girl walked briskly down the side of the road, paused at a crosswalk, looked both ways and crossed the street on her way to the school. Suddenly, she stopped, glancing back at where they stood, watching.

  They were about fifty feet away from her but the girl’s eyes got big and her mouth opened at the sight of them. Pollo cursed, and the tabby melted silently into the underbrush. They watched as Sara stared around in confusion and then began her final trek toward the school parking lot and in through the double doors.

  “She saw us, Hiss!” Pollo exclaimed. “Oh no, don’t tell my pa, Hiss, please?”

  The tabby turned his wide yellow eyes on the young sprite and purred, “Pollo, that witch has great power… unrealized, I think, but still. She saw us, yes, and will see all things now that she has come into her inheritance. I do not see a guide, though. Do you know where her teacher is?”

  Pollo shook his head and then paused. “I did see the girl and an older man, her pa, I think. They were crying. Perhaps the teacher has died?”

  Hiss blinked and murmured, “Perhaps. A young witch with that much power needs guidance, Pollo. I think we need to go to your father’s home immediately. We’ll talk to Muriel and see if there’s a way to teach the girl, harness her power before the dark ones seize her for themselves.”

  Pollo shuddered. He had heard rumors, lately, of dark powers rising up out of the depths. Senseless murders and horrid mutilations of creatures, fey and human alike had been reported. He had even heard that a coven of black witches had moved to town and taken up residence in an old farm on the other side of town, up in the Stormking Mountains.

  Pollo knew that a powerful young witch was a temptation too great to resist, especially one so vulnerable and without sponsorship. Black witches would not hesitate to seize the young woman, either to harness her power to their own nefarious purposes or to kill her outright for her blood, and the power locked in her soul.

  “Let’s go then, Hiss. My pa will want to hear about this,” Pollo whispered.

  Hissaphat, with young Pollo on his back, raced silently back to the sprite’s village.

  *

  Now, Sara rubbed her temples in dismay. What did I see? She wondered. A scruffy old cat staring after her as she walked to school, that is all. She shook her head. Why then, did she keep seeing a little brown man on the cats back, with a shock of red hair stuffed up under a jaunty pointed cap, staring back at her with green eyes that were just as shocked as hers were?

  This was not the first time she had seen odd things. Since she turned sixteen, two months ago, Sara had been seeing things that did not belong in an ordinary, everyday landscape… horses in a snowy pasture with long spiraling horns sprouting out of their foreheads, tiny humanoid creatures with gossamer wings flying through the air with flocks of sparrows. Just yesterday, after the baby bird incident, she thought she saw a tiny figure lifting the hatchlings up into a tall tree. Her eyes had been blurry with tears, though, and she shrugged it off as wishful thinking. There were no tears this morning, however. In fact, Sara felt like she was seeing things clearly for the first time since her mom died.

  “Ah, here they are,” Mrs. Targent, cried.

  Sara sat up straight and watched as a boy and a girl strode down the front hall toward the office. Sara stared. For a moment, a tiny fraction of a second, she thought she saw beautiful wings rise up behind the girl’s back. They were like butterfly wings only much larger and veined with tiny tributaries of black, red and gold. Then she blinked and the wings were gone.

  The girl grinned at her as she pushed the office door open. Her black hair was cut short, and stuck straight up in the air in spikes of red and green. She was tiny, not more than five feet tall and her slightly slanted eyes announced her Asian heritage.

  The boy was tall and gangly. He had brown hair, but his was long and hung halfway down his back in a tail. He wore braces and had a smattering of pimples on his cheeks and nose, but Sara could tell that once he grew up a little and lost the hardware, he would be a lady-killer.

  They both shuffled their feet, smiling shyly as Mrs. Targent made the introductions. “Sara Giddings, meet Chloe Tan and Nate Johnson.” Turning to the pair, she said, “Chloe and Nate, please make Sara feel welcome and show her to first period, alright?”

  Sara breathed a sigh of relief. She could tell, somehow, that these two young people would be close friends and allies in the days and years to come. It was like a miracle… Looking back at the redheaded secretary, Sara saw that the woman was watching as the teenagers walked out the door, with a pleased expression on her face.

  Sara mouthed, Thank you. Mrs. Targent just smiled and said,” Hurry now, kids, or you will all be late for class!”

  Sara and her two companions walked down the hall toward a bank of battered steel lockers. Chloe walked up to one and flung it open. “This is yours,” she declared. “Mine is two down from here. Where are you from?”

  As the three young people put their coats away, grabbing school bags and books from their prospective lockers, Sara told Chloe and Nate that she was from Denver by way of North Dakota and that her dad had been hired on as an engineer for the gold mine, twenty miles out of town. To her shock, she also told them about her mother, Lynette, and about how her mom was killed by a drunk driver in Denver.

  She babbled on, telling them that her father had started drinking after her mother died, and how scared and lonely she was at having to start over again in a new school. Suddenly, Sara closed her mouth with a snap, blushing in embarrassment. Chloe and Nate were gazing at her in silence and grave sympathy.

  “I’m…I’m so sorry!” Sara stammered. “I don’t know what came over me…”

  Chloe said, “Hey, don’t worry about it. Nate and I got your back, okay?” The girl’s amber eyes were so earnest; Sara needed to gulp, hard, to keep tears at bay.

  “Okay…cool,” she answered. The bell rang, and Nate said, “Where’s your home room, Sara?”

  “Uh, Mr. Sonmore, Room 12,” Sara read from the list the secretary had given her.

  “Oh, that’s our history teacher,” Nate smiled. “He’s cool-you’ll like him.” Turning to Chloe, Nate asked, “Meet you in the cafeteria for lunch?”

  The tiny Asian girl grinned and said, “Taco Tuesday…I think not. Why don’t you guys catch up with me in the Common?”

  “Okay, see you later, Chlo.” Nate turned to Sara and said, “Come on, I’ll walk you to your classroom.”

  “I’m not going to make you late for class, am I?” Sara saw that the hallways were almost empty now.

  Nate grinned, “Nah, we’re here, already. Here is your history class, and I’m in Algebra. It’s right there,” he pointed across the hallway. The final bell rang and Sara said, “Thanks, Nate. I…”

  She was going to say thanks again, like an idiot, but suddenly a loud, rattling roar filled the air. Sara could hear scattered screams and the sound of things falling and breaking as the cinderblock walls seemed to undulate.

  The whole school shuddered and the floors under their feet gave a mighty jolt, sending Sara to her knees, and Nate careening against the far wall. Sara heard the loudspeakers crackle to life. “Code red, this is a code red. Students-get down on the floor and hold your desks over your heads. Those of you who are…” there was a muffled squeal of alarm as another mighty jolt thundered through the building. Ceiling panels were falling and Sara could smell something burning and hear the sound of electrical wires buzzing and shorting out somewhere overhead.

  Then something on the wall (a large, glassed-in bulletin board?) gave way with a groan. Sara screamed as the world grew dark and then burst into a kaleidoscope of colors and pain.

  Chapter
3

  Sara was knocked unconscious when the display case struck her a glancing blow, just above her right eyebrow. Only for a moment, though. When the sounds of pain and screaming reached her ears, she struggled to her feet and looked around at the damage.

  She could tell that the earthquake, or whatever it was, had done its worst and was over for now. There was glass everywhere, however, and Sara saw students and teachers rushing back and forth, trying to help the injured, weeping in fear and dialing home on their cell phones.

  She felt something touch her as ankle. Looking down, Sara gasped. The heavy display case had barely touched her, but landed instead on her new friend, Nate. He whispered, “Sara, can you help me?”

  He was lying flat on the floor, covered in glass, wood splinters and blood. His arm seemed to be pinned by a huge, jagged piece of plate glass. As she watched, gouts of blood spread in a pool around Nate’s prone body. The shard had pierced an artery and Sara realized, in horror that Nate was bleeding to death right in front of her eyes.

  Two boys ran up and one uttered “Whoa!” as his feet slipped in Nate’s blood. Nate’s pretty, blue eyes were sitting in pools of shadow as his face turned the color of old parchment.

  Sara was so scared she felt like vomiting but something deep inside burst out of her and she snapped, “You two…help me get this thing off him!”

  The boys didn’t hesitate. There was such power, such authority, in the girl’s voice they bent over instantly and heaved the broken furniture away with a grunt of effort.

  “Dude, oh man…” one of the boys gasped as Nate’s eyes rolled back in his head. The blood was everywhere now, pulsing out of the boy’s arm in a steady rhythm. Quaking with fear, Sara placed her hands on the giant splinter of glass and pulled. Then, she placed her hands on the gash in her new friend’s arm and prayed.

  At least, that’s what it felt like… she prayed to God and to her mom and her dad, to the skies overhead, to everything good, real and alive. She didn’t see the golden glow that went from her two hands into Nate’s arm or even hear when the school nurse ran up, exclaiming, “What’s she doing? My God, that boy needs to go to the hospital!”

  She only knew that, somehow, her prayers were answered. It felt as if a comforting hand soothed her brow and held her like her mom once did. She felt blessed and empty, and…so tired. Suddenly, she thought she might die.

  Sara sat back, almost fainting as her head swirled dizzily, and her heart beat a frantic tattoo in her chest.

  One of the boys bent over her and said, “Hey, I don’t know what you did, but good job.”

  Sara saw Nate sit up and stare down at his arm. There was still a bloody gash where the glass had pierced, but the bleeding had stopped. The nurse was pressing clean, white gauze on the cut and another boy was poking at Sara’s forehead with a damp cloth.

  The nurse was frowning at the blood on the floor in confusion. She barked, “Someone is hurt really badly, you guys. We need to go find that person…NOW!”

  The towhead with the wet towel, in a black and orange letter jacket sprinkled with bits of glass, gazed at Sara for a moment and uttered, “Cool!” Then he took off running.

  Nate was staring at Sara now. His brilliant blue eyes etched her face and the bloody gash on her forehead. He saw the girl named Sara, remembering as the darkness of death tried to claim him as its own, and the golden glow that surrounded her like an angel with a halo. Nate knew that he had just fallen in love… and fallen hard.

  “You saved my life,” he whispered.

  Sara shook her head, “No… I don’t know what happened.”

  Nate stood up and reached down to help her to her feet. For a moment he held her close and murmured, “You saved my life, Sara, that’s what happened. I don’t know how you did it, but…” he gulped as emotions overcame control. “Thank you…thank you,” he finished and let the girl step away from his embrace.

  They looked around and saw that many of the kids were still crying in shock and fear. They also saw that parents were arriving, as well as the police and EMTs.

  “Where’s Chloe, Nate?” Sara asked, looking around in renewed worry.

  “There!” Nate smiled as he spied his friend helping another student walk into the nurse’s office, a boy named Eric Knoble, who was at least twice as tall as Chloe and out-weighed her by about a hundred pounds.

  “That’s my girl!” Nate laughed, as he and Sara walked down the hallway to help. He took one last glance at Sara and decided that he would spend the rest of his life with her, if it were the last thing he ever did.

  *

  Hissaphat and Pollo were speeding homeward when the earthquake struck. At first the sprite didn’t understand what was happening, except that the cat suddenly let out a yowl of terror. Then Hiss screamed, “Hold on tight, Sprite. This is going to get rough!”

  Pollo grabbed the cat’s ruff with both hands, holding on for dear life as Hiss sprinted through falling trees, churning streams and terrible, yawning chasms where none had ever been before. The ground shook and vibrated, and the two magical creatures heard something their human counterparts could not… the anguished bellow of mother Earth herself.

  They ran for many miles, stopping finally at the outskirts of Pollo’s village. The earthquake was finished but the damage was severe. Many of the sprite’s homes were demolished and trees and branches littered the ground.

  The little sprite jumped off the cat’s back. Bowing politely, he said, “Many thanks, brave Hissaphat!”

  The cat sat down, washing the dirt and damp off his fur with a look of profound disgust. He glared at Pollo and growled, “That was a magical tempest, sprite. You realize that, yes?”

  Pollo removed his cap and ran shaking fingers through his shock of crimson hair. “Yes, Hiss, I know. I could feel the dark magic in my bones!” Fat tears trickled down either side of the sprite’s pointy nose.

  “Hiss,” he asked, cautiously. “Will you come with me to my father’s house and then on to Auntie Muriel’s? Maybe you can explain how we found a healer to my pa, and…and I’m scared of Muriel!”

  Hiss grinned, his two eyeteeth glittering in the sunlight. “Yes, young Pollo. I will come with you. First though, I need a drink!” The old cat got up slowly, following Pollo to the small cask of catnip tea that sat cooling in the shade of an old, cranky juniper tree.

  “Who goes there?” the tree barked.

  “Sir, it’s just me, Pollo and the cat, Hissaphat. Hiss needs refreshment after the terrible storm.”

  The sprite had removed his cap and stared up at the rather stunted tree with respect. Which is a good thing, Hiss reflected. He had been on the receiving end, more than once, when that old tree was angry. He had also suffered many an assault by purple-gray berries that shot from the tree’s branches with the unerring accuracy of heat-seeking missiles.

  Eyeing the tree cautiously, Hiss started to sidle backward out of harm’s way, when the juniper started laughing. “Ha! I’ve caught your tail a time or two, haven’t I, cat?”

  Sighing, Hiss sat down and started washing again with remembered humiliation. “Yes, tree, you have. I forgot to ask your permission for the nip when I was just a kit. You skinned the very fur off my hide! Will you forgive my ignorance now?”

  The old juniper quivered for a moment and then said, “Of course, Hissaphat. Please partake of the medicine. You deserve it for taking such good care of young Pollo, here.” Large brown eyes seemed to stir within the tree’s gnarly hide and it added, “This sprite must stay safe to aid the witch on her way…”

  “What?” Pollo squeaked, but the tree was just a tree again now and slept peacefully amongst the holly and the hawthorns.

  Hiss lapped the tea up with relish, while Pollo took a long draught of water from a nearby stream. He noticed that many of the villagers were already removing dead branches and rubble from their yards and the village square.

  One young sprite called out, “Hey Pollo, you going to help, or what?”

&nb
sp; Pollo glared. It was his brother, Peat, who never failed to make Pollo squirm with embarrassment whenever an opportunity arose. Drawing himself up to his full eight inches in height, Pollo replied, “Yes, Peat. I’ll be out to help in a moment. I just need to talk to Pa first.”

  Having no real response to this, Peat shrugged and brandished his tiny ax in Pollo’s general direction. Hiss wiped his whiskers clean and said, “Let’s go, sprite and get this job over with. I feel a powerful need for a nap.”

  Glancing at Hissaphat, Pollo remembered the cat’s great age. The mad race through the woods had cost Hiss dearly… his fur was matted and his normally brilliant yellow eyes were dull with fatigue.

  “Yes, Hiss. Let’s go” Pollo agreed. They walked to the outskirts of the village until they came to Pollo’s home, the lodge of Sylvan Goodwing, or Sylvan the Good. Pollo’s pa was the king of this particular sect of sprites and ruled with gentle guidance and august wisdom. Sylvan’s responsibilities were great, as his territory over-lapped and sometimes even mingled with the non-magical realm of men.

  Pollo gulped and stepped inside the lodge. Although his home seemed huge to Pollo, Hissaphat was forced to sit outside the door, with one eye peering in.

  “Good afternoon, Hiss,” Pollo’s ma, Clarice, called out from the far wall of the kitchen by the stone fireplace. Her black hair was frizzy with heat and the enticing aroma of freshly baked bread made Pollo’s belly growl with hunger.

  “Pollo, where have you been?” Clarice put floury hands on her hips and scowled. “Don’t you think you should be helping your brothers with clean up?”

  Blushing, Pollo answered, “Ma, I will. I promise, but right now Hiss and I need to talk with Pa!”

  Studying her youngest child, Clarice saw that, indeed, the boy had important words to impart. Just the fact that he wasn’t begging her for a slice of bread with fresh honey spoke to the importance of his and the cat’s mission. Hissaphat’s large, golden eye blinked in solemn seriousness.