Contents
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Pixie Tamer
Request for Reviews & Newsletter Subscription
Excerpts from Sanyare
Pixies Chapter 1
Pixies Chapter 8
Pixies Chapter 12
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Sanyare: The Last Descendant
Chapter 1
Author Bio
Copyright © 2016 Megan Haskell
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced in any form or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for brief quotations used in book reviews or certain other noncommercial uses as permitted by copyright law.
Cover Designed by Deranged Doctor Design (www.derangeddoctordesign.com)
Published by Trabuco Ridge Press
Pixie Tamer
Blades clashed. Men and women grunted and swore as they battled, the smell of sweat heavy in the confined space of the training hall. With class nearly at an end, it was the last chance to prove mastery over the day’s lessons.
Rie grit her teeth, pushing back against Galadir’s superior strength. It was her nameday, and by the gods, she would not lose today. If she were anyone else, she would have spent the entire week celebrating her arrival to maturity, but no, she was human, and not allowed the privileges of the adult high elves. She wasn’t even allowed the privileges of the lesser fae. No apprenticeship, no career, no opportunities. She would be forever known as “Nuriel” — Servant-Daughter — no matter that she preferred Rie instead.
Galadir ground down on Rie, his greater weight forcing her back a step.
“Footwork!” shouted Curuthannor, her warden and the class instructor. He paced the middle of the room, watching his fighters train. He was tough on all of his warriors, but especially Rie. True, he and his lifemate had never treated Rie with anything less than respect and even love, but they weren’t her parents, and they were still high elves. Curuthannor stayed aloof and distant, rarely speaking a kind word and almost never smiling.
“Nuriel, move your feet and use your brain. Get out of there.” Curuthannor approached their fight.
Rie shook the sweat out of her eyes. She couldn’t embarrass herself. She wouldn’t.
Aiming a front kick at the high elf’s knee, Rie forced Galadir back a step. She spun under his outstretched arm. Landed an elbow in his gut. Galadir puffed out a gust of air, recovered. Sliced in and down. Rie ducked out of the way, but barely. They moved apart, circling and waiting for the next opportunity.
“Happy nameday,” Galadir said, a teasing light in his eyes. “Get any good gifts?”
“Beating you is all I need.”
“Good luck with that.” Galadir winked, then launched forward, both knives slicing across Rie’s midsection. Rie jumped back, once again on the defensive.
Galadir was the son of one of the King’s advisors, a mid-ranking noble with aspirations of moving higher. Galadir himself planned to move into his father’s position in a few hundred years, when the older man finally retired. But right now, in this room, he and Rie were of equal rank. For these few minutes, Rie could let herself imagine what it would be like to be an elf and be able to say and do what she wished. To look into the high elf’s eyes and tease him, maybe even flirt a little. She was twenty-five years old, and it was high time she pursued the man that had played an active role in her dreams since the day he walked into the training hall ten years before.
Galadir was nearly as tall as Curuthannor, with golden hair braided back at the sides, just touching his collar. His piercing blue eyes seemed to be able to see into Rie’s soul, though as a high elf, that was impossible. The dark art of soul magic was reserved for the denizens of the Shadow Realm. No, Galadir’s magic was mood based. He could manipulate a person’s emotions, making them feel whatever he wanted.
Rie focused her attention on the fight. Block, kick, spin, slice. It was probably the only dance she would ever get to have with this man, but it was better than nothing.
“Nuriel, focus. You’re better than this,” Curuthannor shouted.
Rie dodged another strike. She slid underneath Galadir’s longer reach. Scored a hit to his chest plate. The blades were dull practice knives, of course, not intended to injure the users. Trainees were more likely to be injured in hand to hand combat than blade practice. This class in particular used a blade called a khukuri, an 8 to 10 inch curved knife with a bulbous tip, designed for slicing and hacking, not stabbing.
“Point, Rie,” she said, winking back at Galadir. His eyes narrowed, but a smile curved his lips.
“You won’t get another. And you do realize, you don’t get to choose a name for yourself. I’m pretty sure you’re stuck with Nuriel.”
Rie’s lips pulled down in a frown. “Thanks for the reminder.” She kicked her leg up into a high roundhouse. Galadir caught her foot. Flipped her over. Rie landed on her feet, one hand placed lightly on the bamboo floor of the training hall.
“You’ll have to be faster than that.” Galadir teased. His eyes seemed to sparkle as he smiled down at her, and Rie felt her heart skip a beat. In twenty-five years, he was the first to be able to do that to her.
Most of the high elves were so reserved, so formal, they almost didn’t have a personality. Their beauty, so cold despite the warm light of the Upper Realm, didn’t appeal to Rie’s passions.
Galadir was different. Like Lhéwen, Curuthannor’s lifemate and Rie’s second warden, Galadir was warm and friendly, not only speaking with her as if she were any other elf, but really listening to her. Like knowing it was her nameday. Even if he had known the date, a typical high elf wouldn’t have remembered, and certainly wouldn’t have bothered to mention it.
Galadir lunged forward, scoring two hits and dancing away before Rie could react. Rie stumbled. It was hard to focus when she would prefer to be doing something equally sweaty, but much dirtier, with the man in front of her.
“Two points. Still think you’re going to beat me?” Galadir grinned, his smile sending shivers of delight fluttering in Rie’s belly.
“You’re getting distracted again, Nuriel,” Curuthannor called out.
“Let’s just finish this,” Rie replied. She jabbed forward, slicing her blade where Galadir’s neck should have been, but he crouched, grabbing her forward leg and taking her down to the floor.
“Good, Galadir,” Curuthannor called. “Nuriel, we will speak after class.”
Still lying on top of her, Galadir grinned. “I think this is a pretty good position for you,” he said. “Now that you’re of age, if you decide you want to try the life of a courtesan, you can always look me up.”
A few of the other trainees laughed, their fights over. “I didn’t know you liked to slum it,” one of them taunted.
Rie flushed as Galadir helped her stand. “I don’t think that line of work would suit,” she replied tersely, trying to save what dignity she retained. It didn’t matter that she had imagined the act at least a thousand times, the life he was talking about was degrading. A courtesan could be passed around to anyone, relied on the charity and generosity of her benefactor, and could be dropped from favor as soon as the patron lost interest. She might be human, but that wasn’t the kind of relationship she was interested in.
“Well, if you change your mind, let me know,” Galadir whispered into her ear as he moved to stand with the others around the edge of the room. “I pay well.”
Anothe
r flutter tickled her insides, then drifted away. Rie cocked her head to the side as the attraction dimmed.
Galadir’s touch had been so delicate, she hadn’t noticed she was being manipulated. Sure, she was and always had been tempted by his quick smile and good looks, but to be so distracted…it wasn’t like her. Any good warrior would use whatever advantage they had in a fight, and he had used her attraction against her.
Rie’s stomach sank. Bile rose to the back of her throat. She closed her eyes, choking back the tears of humiliation and frustration. She would never be able to match these high elves and their magic. Curuthannor’s training was a useless waste of time.
The last to leave the floor, Rie lifted her chin and avoided the gazes that were trained on her. She wished she could run from the room, but knew any reaction would make everything worse. Not to mention it was against training hall procedure and Curuthannor would be furious.
Rie finished the closing stretches in a daze, her concentration gone. She tried to sneak out the door amidst the trainees after class, but Curuthannor was watching for her. “Nuriel, come with me.”
Rie groaned and rubbed a hand across her sweaty brow, mopping the liquid as best she could. “With your permission, I would like to get cleaned up before our meeting,” Rie said, offering Curuthannor a modest bow from the waist.
“No need. You will have an opportunity to bathe later.”
Under normal circumstances, Curuthannor would insist she be presentable before a meeting in his office, which meant she wasn’t done with the day’s training, yet. Rie took a deep breath and steeled herself for whatever trial her warden had in store for her.
Curuthannor turned on his heel, expecting obedience. Rie clenched her jaw but followed precisely two steps behind, as she’d been trained to do since toddlerhood. They proceeded down the airy covered walkway that led from the training hall to the main estate. Before reaching the house, Curuthannor veered off the path. Striding out from under the heavy grape vines and into the spring afternoon drizzle, Rie tried to guess where they were headed. The only buildings in this direction were some old storehouses used in the fall harvest.
Curuthannor led the way toward the nearest of these sheds and stopped outside the door. “You disappointed me, today.” He began, his voice firm, but not harsh. “You got distracted and Galadir was able to read every emotion pulsing off your skin. You let him win that fight, and you didn’t need to.”
“He’s faster and stronger,” Rie defended.
“No, he’s not. If you would only think while you fight, Galadir would never have been able to put you in that position.”
Rie shook her head. “It’s not that easy.”
“Yes, it is. And I’m going to prove it to you. Inside this room are twelve carnivorous pixies. They were fed this morning, but they’re probably getting hungry again by now.” Quick as a striking viper, Curuthannor sliced a shallow cut into Rie’s arm, then slid the blade back into the hidden sheath on his bracer.
Rie bit back a gasp. The cut stung, but worse, the pixies would smell the blood. If they were hungry enough, they would swarm, relentlessly attacking until they were either satiated or dead. Twelve pixies could do a lot of damage in a very small amount of time. They probably wouldn’t kill her — she hoped, anyway — but disfigurement, even handicap wasn’t out of the question.
“You will enter this room, and you will leave without being bitten,” Curuthannor continued. “You have ten minutes. Prove to yourself and to me that your training has done some good.”
Without another word, Curuthannor opened the door and shoved Rie inside to face the smallest, but potentially deadliest, predators in the Upper Realm.
Quickly, before she had even recovered from the shove, Rie drew her dagger from the sheath on her waist. Somersaulting toward the middle of the dimly lit room, she pulled her only other weapon, a small but functional boot knife, and stood, waiting for the attack. She didn’t know much about pixies, except that you could usually hear a swarm before you saw them. Their wings tended to buzz when they moved at speed, and the clicks and whistles of their vocalizations were unmistakable.
The first strike came from above and behind her. Homing in on the sound, Rie blocked. The little fae spun across the floor in a crumpled heap. Rie grimaced, momentarily regretting the need to hurt the creature, but couldn’t think about it when three more attacked. She spun. Flung her body into a twisting backflip. Rotated around to swat at another pixie. She kept moving, using her arms and feet to keep the lesser fae at a distance.
Launching into a back tuck, Rie reversed direction. A few small, sealed windows lined the wall near the roof. The windows were smeared with dirt, but if she could get one open it would be an easy exit for the pixies.
Rie was only moderately accurate throwing knives, but all she needed to do was break the glass, and the pixies would be free to leave. She threw the boot knife as hard as she could at the closest window. It spun, end-over-end, the pommel shattering the thin pane and allowing a bright shaft of light to illuminate the floor.
Four pixies immediately escaped, leaving the rest to fend for themselves. Another was highlighted for the tiniest fraction of a second as it passed through the sunlight, and Rie got her first decent look at the creatures she was fighting.
They were small, maybe two or three inches tall, with translucent wings and solid black eyes. Hairless, but wearing no clothes, the male fae bared his teeth in a predatory smile. Rie swiped at him with the flat side of her dagger, but he managed to avoid the strike, forcing Rie to duck and roll into the jagged circle of unimpeded light from the broken window.
Swinging her right hand out, Rie again swatted at the attacking creature. The light caught the facets of the emerald in the only piece of jewelry Rie wore; a ring Lhéwen had gifted to Rie on her fifteenth nameday. The light fractured, sending dancing reflections across the far wall. Two of the pixies veered away to investigate the refraction. Hearing another group headed her direction, Rie turned to meet them, but they, too, were focused on the dancing green lights. Even the male was fascinated by the reflections.
Rie paused, out of breath, in the middle of the room, using her ring to keep the pixies entertained. With every movement of her hand, the pixies followed, trying to catch the light. When they did, the skin of their hand or arm would flash the exact same color, while the rest of their body matched the surrounding walls. It was no wonder they were so hard to spot, they could camouflage themselves against any backdrop. When it became clear they were no longer interested in attacking her, Rie sat on the dusty floor, and watched.
The pixies were all strikingly similar, their sex the only obvious differentiation. However, after a minute or two of study, Rie began to note the small markings that identified each individual, like the criss-crossing scar across one male’s backside, just below his wings. It looked as if he had been hit with an insect-swatter. And one of the females had a small black spot on her shoulder that couldn’t change color like the rest of her skin.
Eventually, the one with the spot on her shoulder turned to look at Rie.
“How are you doing this?” the tiny female asked, her voice like a wind-chime of tiny bells.
Rie sat up straighter and her mouth dropped open. “You speak the common tongue?” she asked.
“Of course.” The pixie pursed her lips and rolled her eyes, propping her hands on her hips. “You greater fae think you’re so superior. Just because we’re small, doesn’t mean we’re stupid.”
“I didn’t mean to offend,” Rie replied. “I simply had no idea. I don’t know much about your species.”
“Why would you? You all think we’re bugs, to be disposed of without thought or conscience, without any pretense of polite behavior.”
“Again, I apologize.”
“Save it for Possn. You broke her wing.” The pixie pointed to another female huddled in the corner. Tears dripped down her face and her wing was bent at an awkward angle. “All she wanted was to ask when, or if,
we would be released. But you swatted her away like a common fly.”
“I thought you were attacking. I was told you had been left hungry, and my arm was sliced open.”
“Despite the tales, we’re not entirely savage,” the female huffed. “We’re quite capable of containing our appetites.”
Feeling entirely underprepared, Rie was stricken by the thought she had hurt an intelligent being due to a misunderstanding. If she had only known more, she would never have entered the room ready to kill.
The other six pixies turned to look at Rie, leaving the spots of light alone. Rie crawled forward, holding her hand out to the injured female, who shrank away in fear. “I promise I won’t hurt you again,” Rie soothed. “Please let me look.”
After a moment’s hesitation, and a nod from the apparent leader of the swarm, the pixie crawled forward to sit in Rie’s palm. Cradling the tiny creature carefully, Rie studied the wing without touching it. Similar to a dragonfly, the pixie had four wings that arced away from the middle of her back. But like a bat, two long jointed bones ran along the upper edge of each wing, creating the wing shape, while a group of smaller bones ranged out from the joint and down, providing tension on the translucent membrane. The outermost long bone of the upper right wing was broken, hanging limply to her side. Rie cringed, realizing this wound might prevent the female from ever flying again.
Rie rested her chin on the heel of her hand while she worried over her error. This whole trial hadn’t been her idea, and she felt awful for the consequences.
“If you’ll let me, I can try to splint the bone. If it heals well, I think you might be able to fly again,” she said.
“We have our own healers,” the leader piped up.
“Then let me take her to them. I never wanted to hurt her, never wanted to hurt any of you. I am truly sorry.”
The leader cocked her head to the side in an avian manner. “You would make amends?” she asked.
“Yes.”
The leader turned to the rest of the group, clicking and squeaking in conversation. Eventually, they must have come to a consensus.
Pixie Tamer Page 1