by B. V. Larson
The climb was worse than he had imagined. When he finally reached the summit, he found a bald expanse of rock, black as pitch in the night. There was no moon riding overhead, and starlight was all he had to guide him as he walked over the mountaintop. The wisp had departed by then—her kind never had anything resembling patience. She had probably forgotten who she had led to this lonely place the moment he was out of sight, and had buzzed away to irritate another fool.
Tomkin kicked at loose pebbles and wandered the mountaintop. Then he saw it again—up close and brilliant. It was a flash of such intense blue that it appeared white. He squawked and called out: “Hullo?”
Silence met his call. He stepped forward cautiously. If it was some kind of elemental he met with, something invisible perhaps, which now hovered overhead, he had to be very circumspect.
Suddenly, like a jackrabbit bursting from cover when a hound comes too near, a figure bounded out of hiding and sprinted with great leaps toward the cliffs.
“Dando?” Tomkin cried after the retreating figure.
The other stopped and turned. He crouched upon a boulder and stared back at Tomkin.
“Who goes?” Dando called back.
“‘Tis I, Tomkin of the marshes.”
Dando warily leaned forward. He all but sniffed the air. He did not rush forward in welcome, which disappointed Tomkin. He had hoped at the very least to be greeted as an acquaintance. Could the other have forgotten their night of fun so quickly? Tomkin wondered what was it like to have so many friends you could forget one of them.
“Tomkin?” asked Dando. “The bumpkin from the marsh, you say? What do you want?”
Tomkin hesitated. He decided not to ask about more parties and pranks with his fellows. Somehow, if that was his purpose, he felt it would make him feel small in the eyes of the other.
“I have news. Something seeks thee.”
Dando laughed. The sound was sudden and bitter. “That I know bumpkin—better than I wish to!”
“Perhaps my efforts to find thee were a waste of time,” Tomkin said, becoming annoyed. “Good night.”
“No, no,” said Dando, hopping closer. He was off his boulder and quickly covered half the distance between them. “Speak, please.”
Tomkin huffed. “There is something—a dead-thing—that wishes to find you and two others. Its name is Voynod.”
Dando gave a sudden, sharp intake of breath. “The Dark Bard. Yes, I know he seeks me. I do not seek him, however.”
“Pity,” said Tomkin, turning to leave. He could see clearly there would be no party to be had tonight.
“Wait!” cried Dando. “What dealings have you had with this other? Does it follow? Are you in its service…or its debt?”
“Neither.”
“Then tell me your tale.”
Tomkin told him how he had met the Bard standing at the very spot of their party the day after they’d met. Dando seemed worried as the meeting was detailed.
“They are so close behind now,” he said. “I don’t think they will give me the time I need.”
“What?” Tomkin asked.
Dando shook his head, but stepped closer. “Tomkin? Have you ever thought of changing things?”
“Like what?”
“Like our lot in life. The role of all Wee Folk. We are the fools of the Fae, you know. Not even the River Folk consider us more than nuisances.”
Tomkin shrugged. “Better than being a wisp.”
“Perhaps,” conceded Dando. “But I believe we are capable of much more. I have found power, Tomkin. I—I seek to wield it for the good of our Folk.”
“Power?”
“Think!” Dando said, coming close now. He reached a hand out toward the heavens. His other hand, Tomkin noted, stayed tucked into his tunic. There was a bulge there Tomkin had not noticed before.
“Think of the world as a different place,” Dando shouted. “A place where we are not the rabbits of Cymru! Must we forever run from anything that threatens us?”
“Fast rabbits live long lives.”
“Perhaps,” said Dando disdainfully. “But they are humiliating, fearful lives. Do you know why we play our tricks? Why we delight in them so?”
Tomkin considered. “Because they are so much fun?”
“But why are they so fun to us?”
Tomkin shrugged.
“Because, my friend of the fields, we seek revenge.”
“Revenge? For what?”
“For every slight given us over the centuries! For every scrap tossed down to us! Long have we been dogs under the tables of the masters. We have been the butt of every joke since the dawn of time, and our only way to fix things up until now, the only way to balance our accounting, has been through trickery and pranks played in the night.”
Tomkin considered the other’s words seriously. They did ring true to him. Had he not enjoyed the pranks immensely? Had he not sought Dando far and wide, precisely to feel that sensation of comradery and power as a Folk again? He looked at Dando with new appreciation and nodded slowly. “What is better than tricks played by moonlight?”
Dando threw an arm around Tomkin, and although it made Tomkin want to squirm, he allowed it.
“Power, Tomkin. True power. That is what I speak of. You are not like the others. There is steel in your spine. Can I call upon you when the time comes? In my hour of need?”
“Will there still be parties and pranks?” Tomkin asked.
“Absolutely!”
“Then yes,” Tomkin said slowly, uncertain as to what he promised.
“Excellent!” Dando cried, clapping him on the back.
Tomkin turned him a flat stare, which the other seemed oblivious to. Dando strutted now upon the dark rocks. His excited eyes shone with reflected starlight.
“Leave me now to my work, Tomkin,” he said.
Tomkin cocked his head and appraised him closely. “Which Jewel hast thou?”
Dando looked startled. “Jewel?” he sputtered. “I’m sure I don’t know what you speak of!”
“May I see it?”
“No!” Dando said, hopping backward.
“Very well,” Tomkin said, nodding. “Be careful, brother. Do not let it consume thy soul.” With that, he left Dando on the roof of the world and began the long descent, hopping down from rock to rock. Pebbles dislodged and trickled down with grit from the cliffs, but never did he stumble.
Dando looked after him with disquiet.
Chapter Sixteen
Tomkin Returns
Days later, Brand and Telyn were still lost in the endless swamp. It was morning and Brand awoke with a groan to another day of gray skies and bone-chilling cold. Telyn was already up, having taken the last watch. She had a smoky fire going, and worked hard to keep a stinking mass of wet wood and dried peat moss alight. Several large gigged frogs roasted on a spit over the flame. One of the frogs spasmed when the flames seared its dead foot. The frogs made Brand think of the merlings he had slaughtered. Vaguely, he wondered if merlings and frogs tasted alike. He hoped he would never find out. Despite a slight feeling of disgust, he salivated at the smell of the roasting frogs. They had been on slim rations since they had lost the skiff.
When the frogs had been seared and smoked to edibility, Telyn sawed off a leg and tossed it to him. “Toasted to perfection!” she said.
“Thanks,” sighed Brand. He gnawed the half-raw, half-charred meat hungrily.
“Shhhh!” hissed Telyn, gesturing for him to be quiet.
“Wha—?” began Brand.
Telyn made the shushing gesture more furiously. She was eyeing the marsh around them intently. Brand ate faster, wanting to fill his belly while he could. He too, eyed the trees with unease. He had learned to trust Telyn’s senses as they were keener than his own.
“Something stalks us,” she whispered after a time.
Brand only nodded. He took a grip upon the knapsack, hoping he would not need to lift the axe again and wondering if he would kill Telyn this time if
he did. Who stalked them? More merlings? Old Hob himself? Some other darkling Faerie, intent upon the power of the axe?
Both of them heard a sound at the fire. They whirled around to find a tiny figure standing on its tiptoes, sawing away at their food. A frogleg came loose and the creature sat down and began munching contentedly on their breakfast.
“Tomkin!” cried Telyn softly.
“What are you doing here?” demanded Brand. He felt protective of their meager supply of food.
The manling shrugged, then grinned. Too many white teeth were shown. “Hast thou already forgotten? ‘Tis the week’s end.”
The River Folk nodded in sudden comprehension. “But what of Myrrdin? Why did you come to us instead?”
Again, the manling shrugged. He paused to swallow a great lump of frog meat before speaking. “Thy great clumping feet are the simplest to follow.”
“Yes,” Telyn said. “The spell wasn’t specific as to who he should report back to.”
Tomkin made no response, but simply ate more of the meat. Suddenly concerned that he might want more of their meager supplies, Brand hacked off another leg for himself and set to work on it. While he was up, he rotated the spit again so that the rest of the meat wouldn’t burn while they talked.
“So, Tomkin, make your report!” urged Brand.
The manling slid its eyes to meet his, taking another great bite of the frog meat as he did so. He finished the meal, licking the bone clean. Rather than discarding it into the fire as Brand had done with his first one, however, he waved it in the air instead.
“What dost thou wish to know?”
Brand frowned. The creature was not going to make this easy. “Who has Lavatis?” he asked.
“I know not.”
“You mean you haven’t seen the Jewel?”
“I have seen wielded.”
“Then who has it?”
“I know not.”
Brand glared and began to make an angry retort. Telyn raised her slim hand to calm him.
“Tomkin, who had the Jewel when you last saw it?” she asked.
Tomkin slid his eyes first to Telyn, then to Brand. He gave Brand a smirk. “Dando.”
“Dando has the Blue Jewel?” said Brand, almost shouting.
“I know not,” said Tomkin, grinning now.
“What do you mean, you—” began Brand, enraged. The axe that still rested in the knapsack on his back shifted suggestively. It was as if to say: Slay the little liar.
Again, Telyn intervened. “Brand, he means he saw Dando with it, but he can’t know who has it now, as that was probably days ago.”
Brand sat back down in disgust. He took another frog leg from the fire with a ripping motion, not bothering with a knife this time. Juices dribbled down into the fire, causing it to hiss and spit.
Tomkin said nothing, but now put the bone he had held into his mouth and crunched down on it. His powerful jaws flexed and the bone cracked. He sucked the marrow out loudly.
“I give up, Telyn,” grumbled Brand. “You talk to him.”
“Where is the Jewel now?” she asked.
“I know not.”
“I mean, where was the Jewel when you last saw it?”
Tomkin made a vague gesture over his shoulder. “Out yonder, across the swamp.”
Brand grunted in displeasure.
“Tomkin, where was Dando when you last saw him? Was he alone? Were there others there besides you and him?”
“Out yonder. No. No.”
It was Telyn’s turn to sigh. She organized her thoughts before continuing. Tomkin’s black eyes reflected the dancing firelight like two tiny jewels. “Were there other Wee Folk with him, besides yourself?”
“No.”
“Were there merlings with him?”
Tomkin shuffled his feet. “No.”
“Was Myrrdin or any other member of our party with him?”
Tomkin looked uncomfortable. “Yes, and no.”
Brand growled like an animal. “Why are you being so difficult, manling?” he demanded.
Tomkin turned on him as if surprised. He pulled the pouch Myrrdin had forced him to wear out of his shirt and waggled it at him. “When thou art tied with a leash, child of the River, Tomkin will enjoy watching as thy red tongue joyfully licks mine hand as thy revered master.”
Brand strove to remain calm. He shook his head as if to clear it. Anger came so easily to him now, perhaps it was some sorcery of the axe. “Look. Let’s work together. The Wee Folk have Lavitis, is this not so?”
Tomkin shrugged. “Dando does, at any rate.”
“Okay, then. And we have Ambros, correct?”
Tomkin narrowed his eyes. “What ship crosses thy mind, human?”
“Well, we have a Jewel, and so do you, and while Herla wants both….”
Tomkin grinned. Strips of frog meat showed in his sharp white teeth. “An alliance?” he gave an odd hoot of derisive laughter.
Brand held back his rising anger. “No, nothing so grand. Not an alliance, but rather a temporary, mutual agreement of sorts.”
Seeing that Brand was doing well enough, Telyn took this opportunity to cut loose another frog leg and began to eat. She sat back and watched them with raised eyebrows.
“Speak thy mind plainly,” said the manling. He stood up to take another frog leg.
Brand frowned at the little man who so freely took his food, but managed to say: “Help yourself.”
Tomkin looked surprised that the food was offered. He sniffed it suspiciously. After a time he seemed more trusting and sat back down. While he ate Brand organized his thoughts. “Herla wants all the Jewels. Until recently, neither the River Folk nor the Wee Folk have possessed one. Our holds over them are weak, we aren’t yet fully attuned. At least, I know this is the case with Ambros.”
Tomkin said nothing now, but continued eyeing him with surprise. Brand figured that he was probably shocked that Brand was so foolishly offering this information. Brand decided he had to offer something or the manling’s information would be so difficult to extract and untrustworthy as to be close to worthless.
“What I’m suggesting is that we pool what information we can more openly, more as a trade, with the purpose of keeping our prizes to ourselves.”
Tomkin snorted. “How can thy meager knowledge help Tomkin and the Wee Folk?”
Brand shrugged. “Would you say that it is better for us that you have Lavitis rather than Herla, and better for you that I wield Ambros rather than the Dead? The Wild Huntsmen will only use their power to gain dominion over more of the Jewels.”
“Agreed.”
“So, anything we can do to protect one another helps both sides.”
Having gnawed the second frog leg down to the bone, Tomkin waggled it at him. “But there is no reason to trust the River Folk. Tomkin knows better than that.”
“Let’s start small. Friendship is never given, but always earned,” he said, repeating Dando’s words.
“It is always so,” agreed Tomkin, looking at Brand with new respect.
“I suggest an exchange of information. Question for question, answer for answer. The more complete your answers are, the more mine will be as well. Agreed?”
“If my question comes first.”
Brand hesitated. What would the creature ask him? What would he be betraying with his answer? Tomkin eyed him with great intensity as he debated with himself, which didn’t make it any easier. Finally, he sighed. “Agreed.”
Tomkin bounded to stand on his feet on the rock he had been using as a seat. He peered up at Brand like a merchant eyeing a fool with a fat purse. Little seemed to delight one of the Wee Folk more than a battle of wits. “No dissembling, now!” he shouted.
Brand shook his head. Tomkin leaned forward, so much so that it seemed impossible that he did not topple to the ground…but he did not. In Brand’s knapsack, which lay at his feet, the axe twitched as the manling’s shadow fell over it. Brand nudged it with his foot to quiet it, as one mi
ght calm a growling dog.
Tomkin tossed the frog bone into the fire with a flourish. He rubbed his hands together and performed a series of standing hops. “What to ask? What knowledge to be gained?”
Brand waited in increasing apprehension. He looked to Telyn, but she only watched Tomkin with the same fascination, if not quite the usual delight, that she displayed when in the presence of any of the Fae.
Tomkin whirled upon Brand, jabbing the frog bone at his eyes. “How many times hast thou wielded the axe?”
Brand blinked in surprise. He had expected a question about the strength of the Riverton Constabulary, or perhaps something about Myrrdin’s activities as the first question. “Ah, let me think….”
“No thinking! No fabricating! No deceptions!” screeched the manling. He bounded about from foot to foot upon the rocks now, the smoky firelight reflecting in his shiny black eyes.
“No, no. I just don’t recall right away. Let’s see, the first time was when I went looking for Telyn and found…ah, found her. The second time I almost wielded it against the wisps, but the spell was broken….”
“Wisps?” interjected Tomkin. “But did you wield it?”
“No…no, I wanted to, but didn’t. Then there was this last time, at the merling village…I’ve wielded it twice now, I guess.”
“Twice!” shouted Tomkin. He was hopping about now, extremely agitated. He slashed at the air with the frog bone and Brand had to crane his neck to follow his movements about their crude campsite. “Tomkin is a fool, thou ken! Tomkin will believe cats dance on pins! Tomkin wouldn’t know a lie if you yanked his furry ears, would he?”
“You don’t believe me?” asked Brand in surprise. “It didn’t seem such an amazing thing, after all.”
“Cheat! Liar!” screeched the furious manling. “Thou hast forfeited thy question! The game is at an end!”