by Nina Smith
“You’re a vibe addict, Muse. Your friend brought you to us crazy and half-dead, so we cured you. The memory loss was a side effect, that’s all.”
Nikifor just nodded. The fairies sitting around them snickered as though something about the situation amused them, but he was used to that, so he ignored it. “What friend?”
“Her.” Strike Pin jerked his head at a fire across the way. “Her name’s Flower.”
Nikifor craned his neck to pick out the form of the woman, who was a head or two taller than her companions. She was an odd sight after three days of seeing nobody but Freakin Fairies. Her hair, rather than black and knotted, was gold-tinted brown, neatly brushed and plaited and reached all the way down her back. She wore her leather awkwardly. A light smattering of freckles covered a face that seemed like it would have been friendly if it were not so strained. Worry lines creased the skin around her eyes and there was an obstinate tilt to her mouth. He wondered if she looked worried because of him. “Shouldn’t I talk to her if she’s my friend?”
“Go for it mate,” Strike Pin said. “But you’ll have to wait. We don’t eat with the women.”
“Why not?”
“Dunno really. They just told us not to.” He shovelled the last of his food down, clutched his stomach and emitted a loud, gusty burp. The fairies around him giggled madly at the sound.
Nikifor put his head down and pretended to be interested in his food, but he kept his eyes on Flower. When she stood up and left her companions, he did the same. He hurried to catch up to her. “Flower?”
She stopped in the shadow of a round hut whose black walls were splashed with streaks of silver. Her voice was clipped as though she expected him to give trouble. “Nikifor?”
“Yes.” He moved into the light of a gas lantern hanging from the eaves of the hut, not quite sure what to say.
Flower grabbed his face with one hand and turned it from side to side. The skin between her eyes wrinkled and her mouth tightened. “How are you? Are you alright? Are the fairies treating you well?”
“I’m well,” Nikifor said, wishing he hadn’t followed her after all. This woman was far more intimidating than she seemed at first glance. “They said–that is, Strike Pin said you brought me here.”
“Yes, what of it? I told you I would.”
“I–I don’t remember anything of it, but it seems I owe you a great deal.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I thank you,” he said.
A funny look passed over Flower’s face. The lines softened when she smiled. “You may have cause to say otherwise before too long, my friend. I fear we’re going to be in worse trouble than we were before too long.”
“Worse trouble?” Nikifor glanced around the darkening camp. Freakin Fairies passed them by with barely a glance on their way home and to bed, their bobbing lights blinking out all over the camp. “What trouble could there be here?”
“You were serious about not remembering,” Flower said, no longer smiling.
“They said it was a side effect of the cure.” Nikifor pushed the blonde hair out of his face. “I remember how to do things, I remember my name, but little else.”
“Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing for now.” Flower tilted her head, still studying him as though expecting to see some crack where madness could come tumbling out. “I hope you remember how to fight.”
He didn’t much care about remembering how to fight. “Why? Why was I a vibe addict?”
“You never told me,” she said. “But as far as I could gather, somebody damaged you rather badly some time ago. You tried to recover, but it never quite worked. Actually this is the best I’ve seen you since then.”
“Who damaged me? How?”
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out. When the Freakin Fairies say you’re ready to travel we will go seek out our king. He’ll help you remember.” She put a hand on his shoulder and smiled. “King Pierus is the wisest, oldest and cleverest muse in all Shadow. He’ll know what to do about everything.”
“King Pierus,” Nikifor echoed. The name stirred a vague shadow in his mind, something that flew away before he could pin it down.
“Go get some sleep.” Flower gave him a last reassuring smile and walked away.
Nikifor stayed in the gaslight. More thoughts tumbled around in his head than he could manage. She hadn’t told him everything. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know everything yet.
Flower was still in sight when a piercing squeal erupted through the camp, a sound so loud he clutched his skull and cringed. She ran back to his side.
“What’s that sound?” Nikifor backed toward the safety of the nearest wall.
“That’s the warning. Someone’s coming.” She grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him back toward the campfires, but stuck to the shadows around the huts. “Stay quiet and watch.”
They crouched down in a doorway in view of the fire pit and watched the fairies hurry back to see what was going on.
Out of the darkness came the tramp of boots, each footfall hitting the ground in martial unison. Twelve people marched into the firelight, halted and fanned out into a line. The people were so tall and thin they made the fairies look like children. They wore identical silver masks, unadorned except for a carving of an eye in the centre of the forehead, long, heavy black coats with high collars and black pants tucked into tall leather boots. Silver sticks as long and thick as a forearm were holstered in their belts.
“Moon Troopers,” Flower whispered. Her grip on Nikifor’s sleeve tightened.
“Are they friends?” Nikifor’s words stuck in his throat. His heart pounded.
“Not really, no.”
Coalfire walked slowly to the front of the cluster of fairies, leaning heavily on his staff. “To what do we owe the displeasure this time?” His voice was grim. “I’ve told you already, we can’t supply any more quicksilver than you’re already getting.”
The voice of the Moon Trooper who spoke made Nikifor think of blood and death. The sound sent prickles along his spine.
“Two shipments are missing.”
Coalfire’s reply was swift and sharp. “That’s a load of bearfly droppings. Every wagon is accounted for on our end.”
The Moon Trooper held up a hand. “I’m not finished, Fairy.” He looked pointedly around the camp. “Two muses were seen entering this forest and are suspected of hijacking the shipments. We’re here to search your village for them.”
“Muses!” Coalfire roared.
Nikifor flinched. Only Flower’s grip on his sleeve kept him motionless.
“Muses!” Coalfire turned to his people and made a gruesome face at them. “Muses in our forest? Has anyone seen any?”
A cacophony of angry noise broke out from the fairies, and was halted just as quickly by a gesture from Coalfire. He stalked up to the Moon Trooper, leaned up as far as he could and glared. “We hate muses.”
The Moon Trooper’s hand flexed by his side, but he remained motionless. “Then you will all be glad to return to your homes and cooperate with our search.”
“Sure,” Coalfire said. “When Quicksilver Lake goes hard. What, are you people soft in the head? Nobody enters a Freakin Fairy village without first being a Freakin Fairy!”
The fairies clustered behind them. The darkness bristled with spears.
The Moon Trooper gave a soft, low chuckle. “I was hoping you’d play it this way.” He took the silver stick from his belt. One end of it threw off blue sparks. The others followed suit.
“Oh Shadow,” Flower whispered. “Stay here Nikifor, whatever you do, do not show yourself.” She strode out into the camp.
“Flower no!” Nikifor reached out to pull her back but wasn’t quick enough.
Flower stalked into the space between the fairies and the Moon Troopers. “Enough,” she said, her voice crisp with authority. “Stand down, you have no reason to bother these Freakin Fairies, and I do not believe you have a reason to be looking for me either. You will wit
hdraw immediately.”
“You would be Flower.” The Moon Trooper drew the name out into a sneer. “How very noble of you, to drag a pack of Freakin Fairies into your illicit journey. You just made them guilty of hiding a fugitive.”
Flower’s voice grew flinty. “I gave you an order to withdraw, in the name of King Pierus. You have no business here.”
“And you were not permitted to leave Shadow City.” Sparks jumped from the end of his stick.
Flower folded her arms. “Last I checked I’m free to travel anywhere I choose. I demand to know on what charges you pursue me.”
“You’re charged with being a muse. Take her.” The Moon
Trooper gestured, and three of his companions surrounded Flower.
“I thought I told you to stay out of sight,” Coalfire growled.
“This Freakin Fairy just admitted to being her accomplice,” the Moon Trooper said. “Round up the fairies and torch the village.”
Nikifor clenched his fists. The rage that had built inside his ribs during the exchange exploded into action. He bolted into the knot of fairies, seized two spears from them and hurled one at the Moon Trooper leader, impaling him through the heart. Blood exploded from his chest and showered his companions.
“Nikifor the lightning rods!” Flower yelled.
Nikifor ducked the sparking sticks, used the spear like a club and clouted the next Moon Trooper in the head with it. It felt right and natural to dodge, duck, turn and impale, swing out to avoid a lightning rod, take it from its bearer and thrust it into a silver mask. The night became a whirl of thuds, yells, snarls and blood. A Moon Trooper leaped at him. Sparks from his lightning rod made the leather tunic smoulder. Nikifor drove a fist into his neck and followed it with the spear, then yanked it free to impale another form behind him.
Silence. Nikifor breathed hard. Slowly, the night came back. A circle of Freakin Fairies stared at him with big eyes and warily clenched fists. Blood spattered the ground, his hands, his clothes, Flower’s hair. Dead Moon Troopers lay all around him. The spear clattered from his hand.
Flower took a step toward him. “Nikifor-”
Nikifor put his hands to his head. The memories. If he squeezed hard enough, he could drive them out of his skull. He’d done this. He’d done this before. All the death. All the killing. “Stay away from me.” Even his voice was ragged.
“You damn fool of a muse!” Coalfire roared. “Look what you’ve done!”
Nikifor sank to the ground, heedless of the blood that pooled under him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to the bodies. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“He’s done you a favour,” Flower said over his head. “It looks to me like the lot of us would have been the next to disappear if not for him.”
“And what happens now? When those Moon Troopers don’t return, they’ll send four times the number to look for them!” Coalfire thumped his staff on the ground. “We could have dealt with them our own way, you know. If we have to go to war on the Moon Troopers, who’s going to work the quicksilver mine? Him?” He prodded Nikifor with his staff.
Nikifor flinched.
“Oh come on, they’re just a bunch of thugs.” Flower wiped sweat from her forehead. The circle of Freakin Fairies around her, Nikifor and the bodies inched inward.
Coalfire pointed his staff at Nikifor’s head. “That muse is dangerous.”
Flower’s voice was cold. “Of course he’s dangerous. He killed thousands upon thousands of vampires in the Vampire Wars, and now he’s just saved you from a bloody battle or a swift disappearance. So back off, fairies.”
“Fairies, is it?” Coalfire chuckled. “I wondered how long before you’d drop the act, Muse. Why are you really here? Spying for your precious king or your precious Guild?”
“I’m not a spy!” Flower yelled. “And you well know it, Coalfire Quicksilver. I came here to help Nikifor, and the fact he just killed twelve Moon Troopers should tell you we have no allegiance left to the Guild!”
Screams. Horrible screams, echoing from long ago. Nikifor leaped to his feet, eyes wide. The circle of fairies flickered in and out of his vision. Shadows. Tall, pale shapes creeping from his memory. Teeth. White skin. Red eyes. His breath came hard and fast. Fear traced fingers of ice through his veins, until he thought the freeze would stop even his heart. “Vampires!” he yelled. Then he hid his eyes. “Weakness is disloyalty,” he whispered. He grabbed Flower’s sleeve, frightened. “I remembered something. Vampires. Fairies. She was in so much danger. She said–she said I had to kill–”
A shadow. Incorporeal fingers digging into his shoulder. A soft, venomous laugh. He clapped his hands over his ears, yelled in fright and bolted. The circle of fairies tumbled apart to let him through.
“Nikifor wait!” Flower ran after him. The fairies followed her.
Nikifor crashed through the forest, pushed his way through dense branches and flung himself into the mossy shadow of a huge, gnarled Ghost Fig that promised a cave, darkness, safety.
Flower crouched by him and touched his shoulder. “Nikifor?”
He put his finger to his lips, listening for the screams. “Shh.”
“What are you doing?”
“Hiding.”
The ground trembled under the weight of the Freakin Fairies thundering into the clearing. Nikifor shrank into the tree, clung to the gnarled roots. The shadow at his shoulder laughed, a low, mirthless rumble.
Strike Pin and Coalfire grasped him by the shoulders. Nikifor hung onto the tree roots, but they gave him no purchase. He skinned his knuckles on the bark, then scrabbled at the grass and mud while the fairies hauled him out of the shadows. Flower protested loudly when Tick Tick and Tock Tock pushed and pulled her out to stand next to him, but her words were drowned by the shadow that fell across him, the low incorporeal laughter, the deafening clamour of leaves crunched underfoot when the fairies closed in. Weird, hooked shadows jumped across the trees in the gaslight.
“Running away?” Coalfire paced in a circle around the two muses.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Flower said. “Can’t you see the poor boy is traumatised? He doesn’t even know what he’s doing! He never liked killing!”
“A Muse Champion who doesn’t like killing?” Coalfire pointed the goat’s skull at them both. “A likely story. Muse Champions are born to kill. No more lies and stories.”
“Lies and stories!” Flower’s voice rose in fury. “Do you have any idea how hard I’ve worked for you fairies for the last two centuries?”
“Silence!” The staff swung to point at Nikifor. “You! You came to us for a cure and you received it, only to bring down the Moon Troopers on our heads. You owe us.”
Nikifor trembled. The shadow, the Tormentor, stood behind the fairy, sharpening a knife.
“Muse Champion, from this day forth you are cursed bombastic!” Coalfire’s words fired like cannonballs. He clouted Nikifor in the head with his goat’s skull.
Nikifor’s eyes rolled back. He fell over, but did not sink into oblivion as he expected. He simply couldn’t move.
Flower uttered a yell and dropped to her knees. Her cold fingers touched his throat, felt for a pulse. “What have you done?”
“I’ve done him a favour, if you ask me,” Coalfire said.
The fairies around him snickered.
“You’ve killed him!”
“He’s not dead. Just a little cursed. Good curse, too. Should balance out some of that crazy in his head for a while.”
“What are you talking about?”
Coalfire leaned on his staff. There was a short silence, then footsteps. The other fairies faded into the shadows, to home and bed. “You two are going to do something for me,” he said. “To make up for leaving piles of dead Moon Troopers around my camp.”
“Do what?” Flower slapped Nikifor’s cheeks and pinched his hands. It all hurt, but he couldn’t for the life of him move to make her stop.
“Find the Silver cl
an. Take them back to their village. Then, and only then, will I consider lifting the curse.” A pause. “Maybe. Could be you’ll like your friend better this way.”
“What? No! You can’t do this to us, you know we have to find our king!” Flower’s voice broke.
Nikifor abruptly took a deep breath in. He stretched his hands and sat upright, then rubbed his aching head. The clearing was empty except for the two of them and a single flickering torch.
“Nikifor?” Flower seized his shoulders. “Are you alright?”
“Alright?” He blinked several times and patted himself down to make sure. He felt better. He felt more present than he had in years. Words swelled from deep within and burst out of their own volition. “I am not just alright my angry friend, I am magnificent!”
The boom of his voice faded away into the darkness. Flower stared, wide-eyed, pale, incredulous. Her mouth tightened. She swung away from him and kicked a tree. “I hate Freakin Fairies!”
CHAPTER SIX
Flower knew the rules. She’d inspired thousands upon thousands of humans over sixteen generations. Obsessing over one writer wasn’t allowed. She was supposed to spread her attention equally, but all the other artists were doing fine. They listened to her advice. The way the girl with the pink hair ignored her was more than an irritation, it was a professional slight.
She slept fitfully in the shade of an overhanging rock, alert to the slightest sound from the night; the stomp of a moon trooper, Nikifor going mad again ... all of the sounds melded into a pack of cheering spectators squashing her against a low wire fence. A big white banner said Fremantle Women’s Hockey Final in red letters as tall as a fairy.
Pink hair flashed in and out of the crowd of women running about the field. The girl brandished her hockey stick like an axe. Fast and vicious, she elbowed two other women out of the way, smashed the ball across the grass, then pursued it like a hungry predator. A team member sent it hurtling back in her direction; she dived for it. The crowd whistled and cheered.
A tall woman with a high ponytail barred her way. Their sticks clashed so hard splinters flew. Pink hair tossed over one shoulder. The crowd, hypnotised, took a single breath, waiting to see what she’d do next.