by H C Storrer
“Clever, but you are only a man.” Danig was above him.
Rolling onto his back, Jack panicked, his fist filling with a pastry, his heartbeat in his ears. Flinching, he squeezed his eyes shut, bracing against the falling blow.
“Stop!” Tigerlily slashed a torch wildly between Fering and Tristan, the purple sparkle exploding white as it fizzled and popped like gunpowder, hurling Fering back into the clearing and blowing the torch from Tigerlily’s grip.
Jack cracked his eyes as he felt the tip of the golden blade tickling the hairs of his eyebrows. Tristan stood above him motionless, blinking as if waking from a dream, a look of confusion etched over his face.
“Master Peter?”
Relieved, Jack let the air out of his lungs slowly. “It’s just Pe… never mind.” Jack rolled up to his knees.
“What’s all over my face?” Tristan pushed the oats across his cheek, still confused.
“Food? You used your magic for food?” Tigerlily shook her head.
“I was panicking. I couldn’t think straight.” Jack let the crushed pastry fall from his hand as he stood.
“Attack him!” Fering recovered from the shock of the blast, his hands rummaging through his tiny satchel only to find burned holes where his purple dust had been. Frustrated, he started toward Jack. “This is not over!”
“Fering!” a commanding voice bellowed. “You will be still!”
Every eye turned to it—Jack was no exception. The entirety of the dark forest was alight with the sparkle of fairies like thousands of glowing fireflies. The illumination gathered about Rata and his warriors a few yards away. In a torrent of sparkling light, Fering was dragged through the air protesting.
“They stole… you have to listen, it was them. The Son of Pan!” then, as if his tongue were cut from him, he hovered, petrified, in an emerald glow.
“Well it looks like I did my job at least.” Belle came to a spinning stop as a group of sparkling fairies flew between Tristan and Jack.
“Your job?” Jack asked.
“Yes, you did.” Tristan, once again fairy size, gripped her in an embrace. “I think it’s finally over.”
“Over? Wait, this was all a plan?” Jack was finally catching on.
“This box belongs to another member of the council, Sparring,” Belle interrupted as she hefted the inlaid lid.
“I suspected Fering was too shrewd to allow himself to be connected with the dust. But he also couldn’t let it go,” Tristan explained. “So, we had to show the other members it was Fering. We had to catch him in the act.”
“When… how did you know?” Jack furrowed his brow, confused.
“Tink showed up just after I found Tigerlily. She overheard Rata speaking about his meeting with Fering tonight. We knew if you got the dust you would come here. Tigerlily and I laid a trail that Fering and Rata would follow, and we sent Tink to the council to finish the trap,” Tristan explained.
“What if I had failed?” Jack asked.
“We were starting to worry about that.” Tigerlily took Jack by the hand.
“So you knew Fering would try and make you kill me?” Jack looked at Tristan.
“No,” Tristan replied. “That was a surprise.”
“It is forbidden for a single member of the council to use redsleeve.” Tink offered. “Fering is a very bad fairy.”
“What about Pistil and Danig?” Jack peered at the fairies in the clearing.
“Gone into hiding, if they know what’s good for them,” Tristan growled.
Jack stood there for a moment, enthralled with the glowing variations of sparkle, the luminance enough to make the trees appear to gleam in morning rays. Amazed at the beauty of it, Jack found he couldn’t take his eyes from the prism of color. “Well it’s a good thing you came. Who knew fire—” With a gentle squeeze, Tigerlily’s hand released his. Pulling his eyes from the glowing council of fairies, he watched as she melted into the dark jungle, her silhouette vanishing as she disappeared from view. “Why did she…” Spinning his head back, he watched as Tristan’s golden ball joined with Belle’s silver, nearly at the congregation of fairies. “Well that’s great. Shall I just wait here then!”
Chapter 31
J ack sat with his eyes closed, listening to the waves, his feet warm in the hot sand. It was this spot—with its tall, protruding rocks standing guard in the surf, the waves breaking upon the reef in the distance as a waft of the salty sea beckoning him—that he loved the most. No one ever came here. Fairies seemed most like children in their superstitions. As if terrified by the stones that stood guard, they avoided the bay entirely. He could sit for hours and think on his own.
“Peters.” There’s a first time for everything. Jack was perturbed to be interrupted and refused a glance. “Peters,” the high-pitched baritone insisted again, a bit closer.
“You can buzz off.” Jack swiped half-heartedly, his eyes still closed. “And it’s Peter, not Peters.”
“I can understand if you see me as your enemy.” Fering circled to the other side, ignoring the correction
Jack cracked an eyelid. “You tried to kill me… twice.”
“Yes, but I failed,” Fering persisted. “I failed to realize it was not your fate.”
“This is my private stretch of sand. No one bothers me here.” Jack took another swat at the dark fairy; he had witnessed the act that fateful night when the council had stripped Fering of his power. He was little more than a mosquito now.
“That is precisely why I came. I can speak candidly now.”
Jack let the air out of his lungs in a long groan. “What do you want? You want me to get the council to reinstate you? Is that it? Well even if I could, why would I?”
“No, Master Peters. You and I both know that has passed. I come to you because we both want the same thing.” Fering braved a closer inspection of Jack’s eyes. “Power. We both want power. And you are aware, I know how to get it.”
Jack stared at the plump little fairy. He no longer glowed or left a sparkle in his wake. His bulbous nose protruded like a growth between his eyes, his black hair disheveled about his head as if he had spent several hard nights on his own. “You were banished, correct? Does that not mean you must leave the island?”
Fering chewed the side of his cheek. “I have more than a few days, as you well know. It could take years before I am forced to leave. The council hardly takes decisive action.”
“Except when it comes to stripping treacherous fairies of their power,” Jack mocked.
“Touché.” Fering folded his arms. “Power you could restore to me.”
“The pixie dust?” Jack narrowed his eyes.
“Yes. You have tasted it’s capacity.” Fering peered deep into Jack’s eyes with a wicked grin. “You didn’t dump it in the sea. You kept it. I can see the yearn for it in your eyes. Tell me, was it thrilling to dance with the clouds when you were covered in sparkle?”
“Fly?” Jack blinked from the imp’s gaze. “There is a lot you fairies don’t know.” Jack stopped short. He could almost taste the power in the memory of his strength and speed. Fering, it seemed, knew how to push him.
“I see.” Fering shrugged his shoulders, turning his head to the side slyly. “Flight is only granted to those that are pure in heart, Peterssss.”
Jack felt the heartbeat in his chest skip. This was why Fering insisted upon calling him Peters. The sprite knew and had a way of speaking that cut right into that very dark place in his soul. “You speak of days and years. You are more like a man than a fairy. What force has darkened you?”
“Shrewd.” Fering grinned, knowing that Jack was changing the subject. “Would you be surprised if I told you I had been a guardian once? Though I’m loath to admit it I was nowhere near as talented as Tristan.”
Jack sighed. “I have been informed. It was you who helped the Roman. He was the one who taught you.”
“Very good. We had become fast friends, much like you and Tristan.” Fering paused as h
e sucked the sad memory away through his nose. “He was wiser than I could have ever known. I betrayed him—I am the one who ended him. I was a fool. I listened to the council, sure that they knew best. I couldn’t see what Latavius was trying to do. What good is all the power in the world if it does no one any benefit. We are trapped on this island… Nisí Poté, the island that never was. We might as well be at the bottom of the sea. This is no paradise, Peters; this is a prison. A gilded prison, to be sure, but a prison all the same. Latavius knew that instantly.”
“Life without suffering is no curse,” Jack retorted.
“Oh, it is, Peters. It is a nothing without end.” Fering shook his head in exasperation. “Tristan will betray you too.”
“Tristan is many things, but a betrayer is not one of them.” Jack’s words were hollow—deep within his thoughts he found the guardian’s allegiance to the council troubling.
Fering leaned forward, gazing into Jack’s pupils. “Do you know what the best part is about living forever?”
Jack shook his head inquisitively.
“Knowing everything.”
“What?” Jack scoffed.
“When you have been around as long as I have, Peters, you know what thoughts are bouncing within a man’s head, even if he doesn’t say them. You know Tristan will betray you. You don’t trust him.”
“Pff” Jack turned away.
“Yesss.” Fering smiled. “I know you have a darker side. A side Tristan doesn’t know about. If it wasn’t true you would have been able to soar with the birds! Tell me, why did you not simply kill Rata? You would have saved us both a lot of grief.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jack’s lashed out with his words. “You better clear out before I make you.” Fering was starting to get to the heart of Jack’s darkest fears about his own soul, and if he was being honest, a part of himself that he was starting to like.
Fering smiled again, nodding his head knowingly. “We fairies have scholars, ones that have devoted eons of time studying the mysteries of the dust. I told you, a lack of knowledge is not my problem. Believe me, I know.” Fering paused for a moment to let that sink in. “And that is why you’re going to help me.”
Jack sat silent, staring at the scars Moremore had left on his arm, mingled with the mottled flesh from the fire that had engulfed him so many years before. He was silent for a while, drowning in the hatred of his memories for the little boy who could do nothing in that black alley in London. His mind reeled with the realization that the dark little fairy was right about everything. It was true that he wanted to hurt Rata, but the chief wasn’t the one he wanted dead. Just when Fering was ready to move on, Jack blurted out, “Moremore.”
“What?”
“I want Moremore. That is my price.”
“No one wants that creature. You are not making any sense.” Fering narrowed his eyes.
“Bring Moremore to the dark caverns on the northern side of the island and I will give you what you want. That’s my price.” Jack’s face was cold.
Fering nodded slowly, and then stopped. “Be careful, young Peters. The power of one such as Moremore is not easily controlled.”
***
Jack sat against a tree trunk in his camp breathing heavily, his gladius, the sword left by Latavius, embedded a foot or so into the tree above his head, the result of Tristan’s latest disarmament. The sword had been an advanced gift by Fering. The official story to Tristan, however, was that he stumbled upon it in the caverns—just dumb luck.
As with everything on the island, time had done little to the fine Roman sword. Things, even the bits and bobs he created with magic, seemed to never tarnish. It was as if life were left alone, it would last forever; yet there was death. The little fairy he had watched burn never came back. Yet, centuries after the demise of the Roman, his blade was still as bright and razor sharp as the last day Latavius had held it.
“Don’t worry so much friend.” Tristan could see it in Jack’s eyes. He was thinking about banishment again.
Jack smiled slightly, his eyes fixated upon the bronze eagle that formed the handle of the dagger still in his hand, its talons gripping the hilt. Shaking away his pause, he reached up and wrenched the gladius from the tree, his muscled arms and heavy chest equal to the task. Again, he couldn’t help but pause, the worry of time crawling up the back of his mind. “I can’t stay here forever, Tristan.”
“What?” The fairy cocked his head in shock.
“I don’t know how long I have been here. It must be…” Jack let the words trail off as he sheathed his sword and dagger. “I am not equal to you with a blade.”
“No, but I cheat with my speed,” Tristan said, laughing. “I would wager you are better than any man alive, though.”
“That’s the point,” Jack sighed. “That’s the point. How many months has it been for me to become this way?”
“Why do you worry, Peter?” Before he could answer, Tristan’s voice changed, as if what he said next had been memorized and polished. “You know you won’t have to worry about banishment if you move to the other side of the island.”
Jack raised an eyebrow.
“Huku… Tigerlily… Peter, if you were to become her mate, the council would not be able to banish you.” Tristan smiled.
“She is just a friend.” Jack flung himself upon a worn stump in his camp.
“I don’t believe she feels that way. Besides, forever with her would not be a punishment.”
Jack sat silent for a long time. His gaze was once more locked, this time upon on a closed sack in the dirt. Out in his little bay, he had already used the magic of the island to create the beginnings of a boat. It wasn’t a grand thing, just enough to sail him and his tight-woven tweed sack to Port Royal. Reaching out, Jack hefted the bag to his lap and peered at the riches inside. No one else on the island seemed to give a second thought to the precious gems that littered the ground. Well, no one except Tigerlily. She had a magnificent ruby she kept in her hut. However, she too, seemed almost indifferent to the most glorious gem once he had added it to his collection.
Tristan flitted to him and put a warm hand on his shoulder, “Just… think it over, Peter.”
Smiling in reply, Jack mused at the large chunks of time that had come and gone; he had thought it over, and his plans for the future didn’t include remaining on the island.
Chapter 32
“A hhh,” Jack sighed as he lowered himself into the shallow pool he had created in one of the freshwater streams a little way from his hut. Leaning back, he enjoyed the eddies of slow-moving water streaming around him as he rested his head and closed his eyes. Bathing was a ritual he had resisted with fury as a boy raising himself. Tigerlily’s trickery had led to his first foray of scrubbing his skin clean in the icy water as she constantly complained of his ‘stink.’ Truth be told, he had also grown weary of the fairies’ jeers about his unkempt appearance as well. The warm rocks he magicked into the bottom of his bath now made the whole ritual much more pleasurable.
“You have lost all sense of yourself, Peters.”
Groaning, Jack peeked out one eye to survey his interloper. “That’s funny, I was thinking of time earlier today. It hasn’t been good to you, Fering.” If Jack had not witnessed the gradual change in the dark fairy himself, he would have been truly shocked by the creature that hovered before him. Fering’s once bulbous face and well-fed girth had been replaced by a long, pointed nose and a stick-like body. The most unsettling change to Jack was how the evil little fairy’s eyes had darkened. Where they were once a shimmer of polished bronze, they now had the dull blackness of fresh-mined coal. Even the creamy white portion had been infected so that it, too, had no hint of gray, but blended with the rest like a starless night sky. Gone was the warm, beautiful aura of the fairy, and in place of the nothingness he had worn for so long a purple darkness encircled the traitor’s body. As Fering moved it would flare out in opaque, cursing flames so that it seemed that the blac
kness, much like the reverse of burning fire, sought to suck all light and life from around it. Jack attested to his musings, shaking his head and saying, “No, it has not been good at all.”
“Oh, how very observant of you.” Fering’s tone was different as well, like logs of a crackling fire.
Jack sat up straight and rolled his wrist with a mock bow. “So what do I owe for the pleasure in speaking to Your Royal Creepiness?”
The wraith paced back and forth. “I have told you again and again. I can have Moremore at the caverns anytime you wish, but you seem content to play with Tristan all day long without giving a second’s thought to our deal!” Fering launched back into the air. “You speak of time. Mine is drawing to a close. We must complete our dealings before these changes become irreparable and I’m sucked into the nothingness that now surrounds me. It is a fate worse than death.”
Jack smiled as he sat back; he had learned long ago that desperate men made mistakes. Fering was desperate. “I believe it is time, then. Just today, I almost nicked Tristan as we sparred.” That was almost true. He hadn’t even gotten close to marking Tristan, but he never expected he would after experiencing the speed of fairykind.
“Where?” Fering hissed.
“Tomorrow, mid-morning I will be waiting in the howling caverns. Bring me Moremore and I will make sure you are relieved of this curse.” Jack leaned back, eyes closed.
“Do not disappoint me, Son of Pan,” Fering warned, and then launched into the air. “You had better hold to our bargain.”
Jack continued to grin like the cat who had swallowed the canary. He had discovered deposits of sulfur and mixed it with pitch he had harvested from a group of trees along the cliffs. Taking his mixture, he had painted the entire ceiling of the largest cavern. This was a magic these island fools had yet to experience.