The War of Odds

by Linell Jeppsen

  There were a thousand things to learn about the fae, and a thousand different types of faeries to memorize. She learned about Slyphs (water faeries of all kinds) and pixies, Pookas and gnomes, Kelpies (evil water horses) and the Djin, (belligerent faeries of fire) and much, much more. If she was unable to describe each and every one of her assignments to Muriel’s satisfaction, she would be severely reprimanded. If that wasn’t hard enough, there was her own, personal, training to contend with.

  Muriel was teaching her how to be a healer. The nymph showed her how to concentrate her psychic energy and build it up, like water in a dam, before letting it flow through her fingertips to heal the wounds of others. She was ordered to heal rabbits, birds, worms and deer. Sometimes she did very well, earning a smile from Muriel, and an exclamation of gratitude from the creature itself. Other times, however, she would cause more pain than necessary for the patients, and cause herself hurt in the process.

  The nymph was not a patient being and whenever Sara messed up, she would lay her stick across the girl’s back as punishment. The thrashing was never prolonged though, as usually the girl was too sick from absorbing her patient’s injury. A good healer learns to shield herself against the pain of others, Muriel admonished, time and time again; a great healer never feels her patient’s pain… NEVER!

  Muriel taught Sara how to hold her hands up like nets to catch the pain of others, and how to roll the pain and sickness into a ball and toss the ball of pain away, like rubbish. She asked the girl to envision herself in a long gray cloak, a cloak that was impenetrable against attack and impervious to pain and illness.

  Finally, the nymph inflicted pain on Sara, and ordered the girl to heal herself. Muriel stabbed Sara’s hands with long thorns, and burned Sara’s arms and feet with coals from the fire. She grinned maliciously, even as she washed blood and tears away from her student’s face and body. A good healer never lets injury interfere with her gift! Muriel hissed as Sara sobbed.

  At first, Sara could not figure out how to turn her powers inward. The river of healing seemed designed to flow out and into a needy vessel, rather than turn backwards, but eventually she learned to turn her gift to the injury itself, whether it was someone else’s injury, or her own.

  After a particularly painful lesson, in which Sara healed each and every painful thorn prick inflicted upon her fingers by the wood nymph, Muriel sat back smiling. “There, finally you understand.” She stood up as Sara wiped blood from her fingertips and dried her tears. Rummaging around in a cupboard by the fireplace for a few moments, the nymph walked back to Sara, handing the girl a twisted stick.

  “This is a Weirding stick,” Muriel said with gruff affection. “By granting you this tool, I acknowledge you as a healer.”

  Sara stared at the little, polished stick and felt a warm glow of pride. “Thank you, Muriel,” she whispered.

  “Oh, don’t thank me yet, child. This tool will give you a place to store the pain you catch, but if you use it unwisely it will rebound that same pain back on you two-fold!” The nymph snorted, adding, “Tomorrow, you shall learn to use the Weirding stick. For now, you are dismissed.”

  Sara scrambled up and ran out the door before Muriel reconsidered. It was twilight, and she saw that fires were blazing brightly in many of the encampments, and dinner was being prepared. She saw the sprites returning home from their chores to their village, and that the elves had left Chloe alone as they went about their own business.

  She waved at her friend, calling out, “Chloe, over here!” She saw the young woman turn and smile, and then Sara saw something detach itself from a tree trunk and move toward her friend. She cried out in fear as the thing took shape and jumped on Chloe’s back. It was some sort of huge spidery thing, with a fat, bulbous belly and far too many legs. It had a dozen sets of eyes that gleamed hotly in the dusk and as it landed, it chittered with glee. It was a Zxither!

  Sara heard Chloe’s cry of surprise and pain, and took off running. She was not the only one who heard the commotion and saw the dark creature pounce. Rondel had returned with a huge silver sword, and slashed at the spider’s legs as it tried to eat its victim alive. Nate was there too, as well as many of the dwarves. They threw rocks and stabbed the monstrosity with their practice sticks.

  The spider squealed with rage and agony as green ichor began to ooze from its wounds. Then, with a roar of rage, Rondel took the spiders head off with a mighty swing of his long blade. For a moment or two the spiders legs twitched spasmodically, and then it lay still and ruined upon the ground.

  Sara bit her lip in fear as she crouched over her friend. The girl lie gasping on the ground as the spider’s poison coursed through her body. As Sara watched, black tributaries of venom spread over Chloe’s skin, and her lips turned blue. She was dying, and Sara’s heart clenched in fear and denial.

  Shaking, she took a deep breath, placed the Weirding stick between her teeth, laid her hands on Chloe’s body and prayed.

  Chapter 11

  Hissaphat’s eyes gleamed as brightly as two yellow moons when the incandescent glow surrounding the young human witch suddenly bathed the clearing in light. The cat and his soldiers had run as fast as they could from their war games when they heard the Zxither’s deadly chuckle. Their training grounds were far away, though, as Sylvan had confided to Hiss that his warrior’s battle cries were hurtful to everyone’s ears.

  Hissaphat closed his eyes against the glare and growled. He loved hunting Zxithers, killing them and eating their chit-nous legs. If he and his soldiers were closer to the village, this monster would never have entered, and the young half-breed would not be injured, or dying.

  “Look, Hiss. Sara has found her power!” Pollo exclaimed in awe.

  Indeed, the whole village was lit up now with the force of Sara’s healing. Unfortunately, however, Hiss could see that the Xzither’s venom might be too much for her to conquer alone. The girl had scrubbed all the heavy make-up off her face, and combed her yellow hair into manageable braids as soon as she took up training with the nymph witch. Now the cat and sprite watched as her delicate cheeks turned white, and then took on a greenish hue. They saw her beautiful aqua eyes sink into her skull, and could clearly see when the spider’s poison got past her defenses and made its way into her hands and up her arms.

  Then, Muriel came running up to where Sara crouched over her friend. She touched her Weirding stick to Sara’s and suddenly the white light in the clearing turned lavender, and then blue. Hiss knew it was the blue light of true healing and he heaved a sigh of relief. Their mission was almost over before it had even begun! The cat decided, immediately, that he would swear his soldiers to silence in the days to come, so they could train closer to the village, and help bolster the defensive wards that were obviously beginning to fail.

  He said goodbye to Pollo and left, taking his warriors with him. Pollo crept closer and saw that Sara had fallen to the ground in a swoon. Chloe lay with her eyes open and staring up into the night sky. Tears ran down both sides of her face and her left hand reached for Sara, but the healer was unconscious and deathly pale.

  Muriel knelt over her student, muttering, “Come on girl… wake up. The sticks have healed you both. Now, wake up!” The nymph gave Sara a light slap, and the young woman sat up with a gasp. Then she burst into tears and crawled to where Chloe lay holding her arms up for a hug.

  Muriel sniffed and walked over to the dead Xzither. Pointing her stick at the creature, she uttered a few words, and then a brilliant red beam of light shot out the end and etched its way over the horny plates and mottled gray flesh of the demon’s body. After a few moments, the spider turned white and then fell into a large pile of ash.

  Muriel’s shoulders slumped in exhaustion. The double healing and the light of destruction had sapped her strength, and she wondered now if she was even capable of assisting on a journey that would clearly begin sooner, rather than later. She heard a voice say, “You know what this means, Muri.” Sylvan and Pollo stood next to
her and she turned to face them.

  “Yes, of course I do!” She snapped. She watched as Nate sat on the ground by Sara and Chloe, taking both girls in his arms. Tears dampened his cheeks and his eyes were huge with fear and the dawning realization of the dangers that faced them all. Glancing down at her cousin and his son, she sighed, “Please forgive me, Sylvan and Pollo. That was close, too close, and I’m old and weary.”

  “You were very brave, Muriel, and I am proud to call you kin,” Sylvan stated stoutly.

  Muriel gazed down at the little sprite king and smiled fondly. “… and I you, Sylvie,” she whispered.

  “Still, it’s time to leave now,” she started walking toward the teenagers, staring at the ground in front of her feet in concentration. “Sylvan, gather your soldiers together tonight, and I will make ready and be sure that the humans are ready to leave as well.” She sighed, adding, “I had hoped for more time, but our wards are failing, which means that the dark powers are building in strength.”

  She stopped and said, “Your highness, I would have you send your people deeper into fae territories. The dark has focused its attention here because the veil that separates our world from the world of man is so thin. This war has been declared against human beings, after all. I think that your people will be safe enough, if only you move deeper into the faery realm.”

  As much as Sylvan hated the thought of losing everything he had built and held dear, he knew that the nymph was correct. Nodding, he replied, “Consider it done, cousin.”

  They walked up to where the teens sat on the ground. The girls struggled to their feet with Nate’s help. “Muriel, thank you so much, I don’t know… what would have happened,” tears welled up in Sara’s eyes again as she remembered the hideous fire of the Zxither’s venom.

  Chloe, still pale and weak from her intimate encounter with death, added, “Yes, thank you, Muriel.”

  Muriel’s hard shell of anger and resentment toward human beings melted at the girl’s vulnerability and heart-felt courtesy. She smiled, “Actually Sara, you did very well against a formidable foe. Now,” she paused and took a decisive breath, “it’s time for you three to prepare for our journey into the underworld and the faery lands of Timeron, the king. Go back to your tents, eat, and pack your bags. Most of all, you need to rest. We will leave at first light.”

  The teens stared at her with their mouths open in shock, and Muriel shouted, “GO!”

  Nate gave his friends a final embrace and left to go to his tent with the dwarves. Sara and Chloe turned away and walked to their tent. Both girls were so tired and frightened over what happened earlier, they hardly cared to eat dinner, but Pollo begged them to come out and partake of a meal his ma had made especially for the departing army.

  Groaning, the girls walked through the sprite’s village to where a large bonfire blazed merrily, and the sprites sang songs of courage and victory. They saw that there were many special treats offered at this evenings feast; trout stew and vegetable pastries, turnip greens and roasted apples, berry cobblers, ale and wine. At each table Sara and Chloe visited for a sample of food, the sprites, dwarves, pixies and elves wished them well. “Good luck, my lady!” they heard, and “Be strong, brave humans!”

  “Sara… Chloe, over here!” Nate shouted and the girls made their way through the throng. Sitting down, Sara noticed that many strange creatures were arriving at the celebration and farewell party. There were small, misshapen gnomes, and large, stony giants, pixies, sylphs and timid unicorns. Primrose Faeries hid behind their petal robes and hobs studied the feast food carefully and offered advice.

  Water Fay bobbed in the rivers chilly water, and emissaries of the Frog queen paid homage to the departing army. Sara blinked back tears of awe and gratitude at the trust these otherworldly creatures were placing in her ability to heal the fairy king. She cast her eyes down in apprehension. After what happened earlier this evening, Sara was not at all positive that she had what it took to accomplish the mission.

  Then a tall, painfully thin man walked into the fire’s light. He was very, very old with silver hair tied back in a queue and a shabby brown cloak. The teens stared at him in surprise. First, he looked human, and second, every creature there gasped in shock at the man’s arrival. A low smattering of applause, turned into a roar of joy and thunderous applause.

  The man smiled, and pulled a violin out from under his cloak. He lifted his hands, gesturing for silence, and took a seat on a large, fallen log. It took a few moments, but finally the boisterous applause died down and he spoke into the silence.

  “My name is William Smithers, although most of you know me as, The Brown Man. I was born into the land of men, but by foolish good luck, I fell into the land of Faery many, many years ago… more years than I care to contemplate” He smiled, gazing at the teenagers, most especially at the healer, Sara.

  “I heard about your plans, and traveled as quickly as I could to offer my assistance… if you will have me.” More cheers erupted, and the sprite king thundered, “Silence! Let the man speak, for pity’s sake.” Turning to William, Sylvan bowed low and squeaked, “We are honored by your generosity, minstrel. Thank you!”

  William bowed his head, and then said, “I will sing you a song, but before I begin, I have news to tell, of this world and the world of man…” The expression on the old man’s face was so sad, so grave the creatures in attendance held their breath in dread.

  “Earthquakes and tempests rock the human lands, although, so far, your family members remain safe.” William spoke directly to the human teens.

  Sara heaved a sigh of relief and turned to hear the rest of William’s news. “The story here is not so benign, however.” He turned to Sylvan and Muriel, the wood nymph. “All of fae suffers under the blight of darkness now. Foul creatures walk the land and whole forests die under killing frosts. Many species now flee to safety, and I strongly urge those of you who do not go on this quest with us to do the same. We are all in grave danger!”

  With those words, he lifted his violin, tucked it comfortably under his chin and started to play a song…

  We sing tonight,

  a song of strength and courage.

  We dance tonight and raise our glasses high

  We dream tonight our

  hopes and plans will flourish

  We say goodbye and raise our glasses high

  The night is dark

  our spirits quake and wail, but

  the stakes are high- we know we must prevail

  So sing tonight,

  our song of war and courage

  and dance tonight,

  and raise your glasses high!

  Chapter 12

  Sara grumbled sleepily when a rough hand shook her awake the next morning. “Sara, get up, it’s time to go,” Muriel stood by the edge of her pallet with a wooden candle lantern in her hand. It was still dark, but Sara heard the sounds of activity outside and her heart skipped a beat. Their mission to go deep into the underworld of Timaron’s Unseelie court was beginning, and she was frightened.

  “Okay, Muriel,” she said softly, “Just give me a minute to get dressed.”

  Muriel gazed down at the disheveled girl for a moment, and knew that the fae asked too much of her. The nymph had never gone into the underworld realms, and she felt a fear just as keen as Sara’s was. Nymphs are, by nature, elemental creatures of the earthly realm- of trees and leaves, mulch and berries, the damp and warm glimmering sunlight of forests and streams.

  Faeries of the underworld, however, are not attached to any one realm but all of them simultaneously, and do not show a particular loyalty or allegiance to any one world. These faeries are either air spirits, or spirits of fire. Air faeries are usually benign and are known to travel restlessly between realms. Depending on their mood, air faeries might bestow gifts… like a cool breeze on a hot summer day, or wreak havoc on the earthly plane by joining forces with the water fae, which often results in monsoons or hurricanes. Air fae are necessary fo
r all of the planet’s realms, but capricious and fickle.

  The worst collaboration, in Muriel’s experience, was when air faeries joined forces with the fire fae. The resulting collusion often turned small blazes into roaring infernos, turned healthy forests into charred ruins, and cost untold lives; human, animal and fae. Worse, demons often rode on the backs of fire elementals. When that happened, the foul humors of darkness and evil followed in their wake, infecting every living thing with sorrow, despair, and bad intentions.

  Muriel shuddered, thinking- that is where we go now, to the realm of darkness, pain and sorrow. For a moment, the old witch despaired… she was as out of place in the underworld as a fish in the sky, or a bird in the ocean.

  Then, her normal cantankerous nature took over. She barked, “I want to see the two of you standing by the fire and ready to go in twenty paces!” and stepped outside of the tent.

  Sara had tried, once, to explain the concepts of time, and human means of measuring it, but the nymph dismissed the girl’s explanations with a sniff. “Minutes…hours- those words are meaningless here. We shall measure time by steps,” she decided.

  After a while, Sara and Chloe learned Muriel’s meaning, and knew now that the nymph wanted them to be ready within the next ten minutes. They dressed quickly, washed their teeth and faces with cold water, picked up their packs and went out into the foggy dawn.

  The villagers were all awake, scurrying here and there with mugs of water and tea, last minute items necessary for the trip like, extra cloaks, food, swords, arrows, and tearful kisses of farewell. The same long tables that groaned under the weight of last night’s feast held steaming mugs of strong tea, ale, water, porridge, bread and cheese. Most of the sprite females were serving breakfast and many wept with fear.