by H C Storrer
With a final effort, his light became all but extinguished save for a faint glow emanating from his skin. Slipping up the entrance of the topmost bough Tristan came to a stop just outside Fering’s ornately carved door. Pressing his hand against the bronze latch, he slowly forced it downward with a click and eased the door open, freezing as a shaft of silver light flooded the small passageway. Plying the door open a fraction more, Tristan could make out the rotund back of Fering as he stood over his desk staring at a giant scroll of paper, his bronze glow drowned out by the too-bright silver. Suddenly, he pounded his tiny fist into the wooden top.
“I told that useless, naive, tattooed idiot to kill him! Didn’t he understand that man could ruin everything we have worked so hard to build! And yet he dares ask for more dust! Bah!”
Tristan eased the door close as Fering’s muffled shouts continued. He retreated to the central hub and hid in a dark corner to wait out Fering’s tantrum. It was obvious the pompous fairy was not alone, but Tristan was more concerned with the hawk than with his eggs. As the time gathered Tristan thought hard—surely Fering did not mean fairy dust. It was strictly forbidden to give dust to any human. The penalty would be banishment from the island. Without warning, Fering’s bronze orb burst from his door, raced down the limb, and darted out of the council tree. Tristan watched him go for a moment, his heart beating as he started to move his tiny legs from his dark hiding spot back to the entrance of Fering’s branch when he paused. Looking back toward the bronze flicker of light in the sky, he couldn’t help but feel something was amiss. Fering was flying away from the celebrations. If he stayed on the same path, he would be heading straight for the wild men’s village. Abandoning his original plan, Tristan launched out of the council tree and sped off after the council member.
Maintaining a safe distance above his target, Tristan easily kept pace with the fat little fairy, whose girth made his flight labored and slow. They had not journeyed far, but after the third or fourth rest Tristan turned to leave, frustrated that he had followed Fering on what seemed to be a wild butterfly chase.
Wheezing from the exertion, Fering launched into the air once again, and after a few yards he came crashing back down. “Drag me all the way out here, it’s preposterous!” he grumbled as he pushed himself off the ground, brushing dirt from his clothes. Tristan darted back to the growing noise and gently alighted on a high bough leaning judiciously from a dangling leaf just as a fiery orange glow crashed through the jungle.
“Ah, little fairy!” The chief of the wild men looked down upon Fering with contempt.
Fering leapt into the air and hovered to the chief’s height. He had his normal haughty composure, but Tristan could see that his bronze orb pulsed ever so slightly; he was afraid. “What is this nonsense about wanting more dust, Rata? You did not even earn the dust that I paid you!”
“You wanted us to kill the man-child and we did. He jumped into the great waters before Moremore could finish the deed, but—”
“You failed!” Fering cut him off, holding up his hand while trying to keep the fire light out of his eyes. “He jumped but was saved by that fool of a guardian. Even as we speak, the boy is healing! He now has another chance at ruining everything I have worked for!” Fering blinked and stammered, finally yelling, “Will you put that infernal fire out!”
Rata nodded to his warrior, who quickly extinguished the flame. In the dark, Fering’s bronze light cast a wicked glow over the chief’s features as he protested, “You call him a boy, but he is more of a man than a child, and a dangerous one at that. Never has one of my warriors laid a hand on Moremore, yet this man comes and sinks a spear into his leg. If I had not called for taniwha… I am afraid he would have bested any one of my men.” Tristan felt pride well up for Peter as the small group of guards behind the chief nodded in agreement.
“I find that hard to believe!” Fering blustered. “Perhaps you and your people are not as fierce as you say if—”
“Be careful what you say next, little fairy.” The chief drew a black wooden sword with white shark’s teeth along its edges, brandishing it at Fering.
Knocking the sword out of his way, Fering continued as if the chief had not said a word, “—if you can’t kill a simple child, I am not sure you have any use whatsoever.”
“Why do you want the man dead? Is a man not supposed to become the Pan?” Rata lowered his sword, curiously eyeing Fering.
“We have gotten along fine without that old phantom. Not many of our kind still hold to the old prophecies anymore. My followers and I believe it is time for us to look to the future rather than hold onto the past. I can rule this kingdom better than the ghost of any fallen god could!”
“I see.” The chief was nodding, a shrewd smirk on his face. “If you want my people to kill the man-child and take the risk of angering the Pan we will require more than a morsel of dust.”
“Oh really.” Fering put his hands on his hips and rose a few inches higher.
Intent on the conversation below, Tristan didn’t notice Belle’s glow until it was almost upon him. Frustrated, he turned his head halfway, his eyes still fixated on the voices below. “I told you to stay out of this, Tink. It’s not—” Tristan swallowed his words short, confused just as his vision vanished in a haze of silver, the silhouettes of three fairies burned into his eyelids as everything went dark.
***
Belle hovered at the edge of the festivities. The celebration was not just a chance for fairies to remember the world about them; it was as important as any worship service in the Christian world. Nervously, she paced in the sky back and forth. If there was one fairy to be missed, it would be the guardian. “C’mon…” she huffed. “Where are you?” There was a strange sensation to all of this. Her feet itched, and her fingers shook as her chest throbbed. There were so many emotions that were new to her and she didn’t know what it meant; the only emotion she had put a name to so far was anger. That one was reserved for their visitor. She wasn’t sure why, but there were a lot of changes on Nisí Poté since Peter had arrived—none of them good.
“Fering, I thought you might miss the nectar walk,” a boisterous voice announced behind her.
“Hardly,” Fering replied in laughter. “I am to defend my title, chief of nectar.”
“Chief of something.” Belle slowly turned back to her musings. Tristan had told her of his plan, how he didn’t trust the old sprite. With Fering’s return, more worry heaped upon her thoughts. In the distance a silvery streak, like the glow of a shooting star, raced against the black sky. Without warning it split as one smaller sparkle dashed towards her and the celebration, the other continuing towards the roaring cliffs. “Curious,” she mumbled.
She continued to hesitate. Her eyes were on the black horizon as the latecomer darted past, landing amidst the festivities. It was Danig, one of the sprites of nature. A curious sight, since they were not known to linger out after dark. Without allowing her courage to wane a second longer, Belle sprinted away after the streak in the distance.
Her wings flashing furiously, she grew closer until she could make out a gold heart to the silver orb. Only a few fairies had pure silver as their color, let alone one so bright, and none of which contained gold as well. Without warning, the ball of light darted inland and raced into the dark of the trees. Belle knew the area well; it was Peter’s camp. Trying to peer through the brush, she slowed a bit, what is that man up to now? She thought. Her desire to spy on Peter’s mischief overrode any other decision to go back to the celebration; after all, if Peter was up to something she needed to know.
Lighting on a branch high above the camp, she cowered behind the cover of a few leaves to hide her glow. Below, her the golden, entrancing embers of Peter’s fire crackled dimly under the blackened logs. Without preamble, one silver-white fairy threw the large satchel he was carrying to the ground with a thump, a dull groan muffled in the bag.
“You have gotten too curious, guardian,” the other fairy huffed. Belle
recognized the voice, but it didn’t match his glow. Stepping towards the dying fire, he continued, “A new dawn is approaching for fairy-kind, one that will no longer see the use of you, guardian.” With a nod to his companion, he bent over his prey, mocking.
Under orders, his companion began to beat his wings furiously about the fire with strength and speed she had never seen in a fairy before. Darting about quickly, he gathered up several large logs at once and tossed them upon the embers. Within seconds it was ablaze, the bright flames throwing the lead fairy’s features in relief. “Favian?” Tink’s voice was less than a whisper. The council guard normally had a copper glow tinged with green.
Gliding lightly to one side, she tried to see who the second fairy was, his face covered with a purple cloth against the white mist of growing smoke. With glee, he continued to stoke the flames as the fire roared with desire to burn.
A wicked smile stretching over his visage, Favian turned from his friend and drove his little fairy foot deep into the parcel; Tristan groaned in reply. “You hear that, Tristan? That is the sound of freedom. No more being trapped on this Island of Nothing. No more ghostly rules. You know why we no longer need a guardian?” Favian bent to one knee. “Because we no longer need Pan.”
Grasping the end of the cloth, he drew his dagger along the seam, slicing it open the full length of Tristan’s body. Standing, he yanked the remnants of the sack free and tossed it into the flames. Like a flash of lighting, the little satchel burst in a greenish glow and was gone. Belle held her own stomach from fear. She couldn’t understand why this was happening. Instead of Tristan dashing from the ground, sword drawn, he remained still, his limbs at odd angles.
“You’ve wasted your days as the guardian. Fering, on the other hand, has spent his learning the mysteries of our most powerful resource: dust. How do you feel, Tristan?” Favian forced the guardian to his feet and smacked him across the face with a laugh. “All your extra ‘gifts’ and here you are, at my mercy. Not even you can withstand greenshade. What chance do you think that… man has against us? Oh, they’ll find what’s left of your enchanted blade in the ash here. I’m sure that little sprite that follows you around, that little Tinkling-bell, will not rest until Peter is banished.” Turning Tristan about, he started to shove him towards the burning flames. “Not even Pan could stop us now.”
“AAHH!” Belle dove from her cover, dagger drawn as she hurled herself at the traitor.
“Belle?” Favian gasped as he discarded Tristan and narrowly deflected her strike with his own weapon, a sparkling cloud of green rushing from his other palm towards her.
Shooting upward, she avoided the dust as Jack lumbered into the clearing with a torch raised high in his good hand. He moved quickly, catching the other fairy with his foot, sending him skittering into the ferns. “Tink! Get some water from my bucket and wash that dust-off Tristan!”
“No!” Favian screamed as he launched into the air to intercept Belle. Reaching over the burning pyre Jack swung his torch into Favian’s path. Stopping just short of the flames, the traitor hovered in the moist night air. “You have worn out your welcome, Son of Pan!” Turning on Jack, he reached his hand into his small pouch and shot to the ground, while avoiding the flames as Jack pitched the torch back and forth. Leaping into the air once more, he shrieked in agony as a golden- hilted blade sank through the pouch, pinning his hand to his hip.
Tristan stood with quaking knees in a puddle of water, his arm extended for the briefest of seconds until he fell back to the earth with a dull thud. Growing to half of Jack’s height, he exclaimed, “Peter, put those fires out before we are all drawn into them.” He looked cautiously at Belle, who floated nearby, her eyes aglow with the golden flames, her face motionless. Next to her, Jack’s water bucket was suspended in mid-air, glowing with dust.
“This isn’t over!” Favian hobbled up from the ground, grimacing in laughter, his finger condemning at the bucket as it dangled in the air. “You’ve given me proof of your treachery, little Belle! Where would a sprite get dust?”
As Jack kicked dirt over the flames, smothering the light, she shook back to life, her hand holding a tiny, empty satchel she had pulled from Favian in their short battle. “I… I—” Like a child, she stumbled to explain it, lies and deceit as strange to her as Peter’s pirates.
“They will punish you. They will punish all of you!” With effort, Favian removed Tristan’s blade and slowly took to the air as the powerful silver glow began to wash from his head to his feet.
“You were caught in the act of trying to kill the guardian! Who would believe you!” Belle shouted as she raced to cut off his escape.
“No!” Favian growled in frustration as his normal copper glow returned. Fidgeting with another satchel on his hip, he hovered higher. “We are more powerful than you realize. Do you think Fering is the only council member with us? HA!”
Just when he neared the top of the canopy, Belle reached out, catching him by the foot as Favian kicked wildly to be released. “You are not going to get away with this!” In a fluid motion, Belle sliced the bottom of his pouch with her other hand, dumping its sapphire contents across her head and shoulders. In a flash of brilliant light, her silver glow turned the purest white as the power of the sea coursed like waves through her veins. The more Favian struggled, the tighter her grip clamped about his leg. With a mighty pull, she flung him towards the earth. “Tristan! Catch him!” she shouted
Before Tristan could react, Favian hurtled past him into a cloud of ash amongst the smoldering remains of Peter’s fire.
“This is not over!” Favian coughed, hobbling to his feet. Blue dust continued to trickle from his satchel, collecting about his feet. Then as if the powder magazine on the Faversham had been struck, the errant embers exploded all about him in a shower of green and blue sparks. In an instant, his flaming silhouette was gone.
“You killed him!” a distant voice tore through the air. “You killed a council guard!”
Tristan and Belle stared into the black jungle as a silvery glow shot high and then dashed into the trees.
“I didn’t… it was the blue dust.” Belle slowly lowered to the ground, pleading her case, tears welling in her eyes.
“I know.” Tristan shrunk back to her size to console her. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“What am I going to do?” Belle turned, shoving Tristan to the ground with just a tap. “I have to go find him!”
Before she could move, a torrent of water gushed over her body, washing the blue dust into a puddle at her feet, the thirsty ground drinking it away in an instant. Furious, she looked up at Jack who stood over her with an empty bucket. “Nobody’s going anywhere. You won’t catch him, and I think chasing him is what he wants anyway.”
“What?” Belle was indignant.
“It’s just his word against you two now. If you ran after him, he would have all the evidence he needs to convict you both. Trust me, lies and thieving, that’s what men know best,” Jack explained.
“He’s going to go straight to the council. This is worse than I thought. Fering is—” Tristan stopped short as Jack looked on inquisitively.
“He said other members of the council are with them. You heard Favian. Now his companion is going to alert the council. I could be banished,” Belle added.
“Not tonight. He will need to wait until that blue dust wears off or he will look just as guilty,” Jack said with his eyes intent upon the dark jungle.
“What are we going to do, Tristan?” Belle began to panic.
“You’ll need to go into hiding. Hukupapa will protect you.” Tristan forced her to look at him.
“And we’ll need to get some evidence of our own if Fering is to be stopped,” Jack added, his voice taking on a pragmatic coolness.
Chapter 28
J ack looked up from his morning meal. He had convalesced so long that he was afraid he might be limping on the wrong leg, and he couldn’t remember what arm was supposed to hurt. Tristan had s
pent many days teaching him the fundamentals of swordplay, and he was sure the guardian had grown leery of his lying ways. Just chewing down the last bits of a sweet pastry, Tristan stood before him in a flash of light.
“Master Peter.”
Jack’s scowl forced his friend to correct his words immediately.
“Peter.” Tristan’s countenance was downcast, his light not as bright as it usually was. “I have news from the council.”
Jack noticed his hesitation. “What? Out with it? No one died, did they?”
“No, no.” Tristan paused.
Belle was right there at Tristan’s shoulder. “You’re supposed to face the trials today.” Zipping over behind Peter, she continued, her light little hands bumping him behind the ear with force greater than her form, “I hear everyone knows you’re healthy now, so up with you, c’mon let’s get this over with.”
“Will you buzz off and let me handle this!” Tristan took a swipe at the little fairy.
Avoiding Tristan’s hand, she scolded, “If he’s the chosen one it won’t be a problem, and everything will be back to normal. Besides, the longer we take with this, the more of a chance there’s going to be —”
“I said BUZZ OFF!” Tristan disappeared in a sparkling flash, his golden ball chasing Tink’s silver one like a bolt of lightning.
He was gone long enough that Jack had time to finish his breakfast and clean up his little camp.
“That stubborn sprite.” Tristan huffed from the wood. “I told her to stay with Hukupapa. I don’t think she even knows what hidden means.”
Jack sat silent. There was a long ago, nearly forgotten conversation about his purpose on this island—a conversation that had been interrupted by Belle.
“The council expects me to go and defeat the shadow.” Jack straightened.