The Shadow of Nisi Pote

by H C Storrer

  Chapter 36

  B elle landed softly on the high branch of a jungle fern to give her wings a rest. She had been all over the island with not so much as a hint of Rata or the dark one. Reaching over her shoulder, she began to massage the wing joint on her back. Something was not right with Peter. Belle couldn’t explain why, but there was just a shiver she got whenever Rata was mentioned in Peter’s presence. A knowing grin would crack the edges of his lips and then disappear just as quickly, as if he had eaten a secret begging to be told. She had a nagging urge to find the chief before Peter left. Even if that meant Tristan was going to be angry by her absence at seeing the man off.

  The sun was high overhead when she finally crossed over the howling caverns along the northern shore. Most fairies avoided the place, and truth be told it wasn’t on the top of Belle’s agenda most days either. With her silver trail of sparkle racing behind her like a comet, she dashed about the caverns quickly. The wind had picked up, and the wailing emanating from shallow caves sent shivers through her cheeks. Being as thorough as her thrumming heart would allow, she moved on, hurling along the edge of the cliffs. She hadn’t gone far when a very large pile of black boulders brought her instantly to a stop. The stack of stones was out of place, too clean, missing the thin layer of jungle moss that coated most everything. Dropping low, she hovered down the slope of rock, a cloud of black flies humming from her path. Turning, she focused on the gray, rotting flesh just below her, jagged white bones protruding about a thick log that had been clutched within the grasp of the giant hand. Shuddering, Belle spun and darted back from the sight, trying her best to keep from retching as the flies moved back to their meal below. As she hovered to the jungle in disgust, the glimmer of the sun blinking from the bark of a distant tree drew her gaze. She flicked her wings, inching closer as her eyes focusing intently on the shine until it’s form slowly came into view. Buried nearly to the hilt was a dagger, it’s red handle and gold eagle pommel unique.

  “Peter,” Tink gasped.

  ***

  Jack burst through the jungle canopy, scattering a flock of colorful birds who squawked in protest at the intrusion. Flattening his flight, he shot above the trees at such speed that the individual leaves turned into an emerald blur beneath him, the torrent of his wake splitting the greenery. Shooting heavenward with his fist held aloft, Jack came to a screeching halt, hovering far above the island as the ring on his finger began to hum with energy, drawing his gaze. Deep within the emerald stone the bright sunlight revealed the face of a lion etched in geometric lines, its mane stretching across the band in golden beams. His chest swelling, Jack felt like he was filled with lightning—invincible. The humming energy built at a fever pitch through his veins until he could hold it in no longer, throwing his head back, he let out a long, drawn-out crow, like the cry of an enormous rooster.

  A feeling of being replete washed over Jack, and within that moment of reflection, his gaze caught the enormous branches of the fairy tree as it broke on the horizon near the western cliffs. His thoughts quickly flared with a desire for justice. Nathan had tried to destroy him in the London streets. Moremore had tried as well. Even Rata and Fering had tried and failed. Their blunders had made him strong, like his father. He could feel rightness in the power that flowed through him. Tristan was wrong; it wasn’t the council that was in charge of Nisí Poté. Inside of him, there was a knowledge he could feel. They were just stewards until the rightful ruler returned. He had failed so many people, but here he saw his chance to live up to the hero Edwin had been.

  ***

  “Tristan! Tristan!” Belle yelled when she was still a ways off. She was moving as quickly as her exhausted wings would carry her, the Roman dagger held loosely in her arms. “Tristan, where is Peter?”

  “Sailing back to his own kind.” Tristan turned to her, his eyes melancholy.

  “I think he has done something terrible.” Tink held up the dagger.

  Tristan, the size of Peter, reached out and grabbed it. “What is all this, now?”

  “I found it deep in a tree near the howling caves,” Belle replied. “It’s Moremore. He’s dead. Buried under a mountain of stones.”

  Tristan furrowed his brow. “I don’t—”

  “Many settings of the sun ago you asked Peter about this dagger. He said he had lost it. He was not telling us the truth. He deceived us. I think he killed Moremore and the old chief,” Belle explained in one breath.

  “Just because you found a knife?” Tristan shook his head in disbelief.

  “No one hated Moremore like Peter.” Belle’s shoulders dipped with exasperation. “We can’t ignore it. Even banished, it was not his place to end Rata and his men.”

  “You don’t know any of this. You always disliked him. You didn’t even come to see him leave,” Tristan argued.

  “I’m going to the council, Tristan. They need to know.”

  “What good would that do?” Tristan asked.

  “Tristan, I have to tell Hukupapa as well.”

  “You… you can’t prove any of this! Do you just want to cause her pain?” Tristan could feel the anger rushing into his face.

  “She has to know what happened to her father,” Belle shot back.

  Tristan curled his lip; the emotion he felt was something new, he wanted to lash out at Tinkerbelle and all her accusations. He couldn’t believe a word of it. He wasn’t sure, even then, that Peter wasn’t the chosen Pan. Folding his arms, he put his back to her in the biggest insult a fairy could muster. “Fine, go to the council! It doesn’t matter anyway!”

  “Tristan—” Belle held out her hand.

  “You made your choice. Go on, then,” Tristan said, shrugging her off. “Go tell them. What good do you think it will do?”

  “I’m… it’s…” With nothing left to say, she stopped trying. Downcast, she turned towards the council tree and pushed into the wood.

  Standing alone staring at the white-foaming breakers as they rolled in from the indigo sea, Tristan took a deep breath of the humid salty air. “Besides, he’s gone!” he barked, with only his voice echoing back in reply. His friend was gone. Peter would never return to Nisí Poté. Turning, the guardian started into the jungle, walking instead of flying. He didn’t feel much like being a fairy.

  ***

  Belle was just out of sight of the great tree when her nostrils filled with the smell of the beautiful, forbidden danger. All around her, sparkling bits of red-orange glows danced through the strange fog. Reaching out a curious hand, she let one of the sparkles drop into her palm as she fluttered deeper into the smoke. The mistake was instant. Frantic, she shook it free as her delicate flesh burned red, the shock and pain, forcing her to draw in a deep frenzied breath. Uncontrollably, she coughed at the poisonous air, her lunges burning with each hacking breath of smoke. Confused, she began to spin in circles, unsure of how to get out of the fog. Just as she was about to give up hope a strong hand reached out and gripped her under her shoulders, hurling her high into the air, well above the jungle canopy.

  Weak and disoriented, it wasn’t until the pair of fairies came to a rest on a leaf out of the path of the smoke that Belle finally had a clear view of the flames that engulfed the great council tree. It was the first time she had truly experienced grief, and it was a sight that would be etched into her memory for the rest of her days.

  “What happened?” she asked through coughing fits.

  Next to her, the blackened, smoky face of Crincias sat in his ash-covered palms. Muffled behind his fingers, his response cold, “Peter.”

  “What?” Belle looked at him.

  “It was Peter.”

  ***

  “Peter?” Gribani, the head of the fairy council, hovered like a regal blue ball just at the entry of the great tree. “I had been informed that you already left.”

  Jack grinned. “Well, as you can see, I am still very much here.”

  “You wish to give us a goodbye, then? I am sure there are many fairies that
would like that.” Gribani fluttered into Jack’s path, stopping his progress.

  “Not exactly.” Jack pushed the fairy aside, only to be met by another, her red glow bright.

  “And what would your business be then?” Silette growled like a bent cymbal.

  Before Jack could answer, there were four more members of the council and a council guard hovering in his path. “Pistil.” Jack smirked. Looking Silette directly in the eye he spoke each word in a cold measured tone, “I demand a meeting of the council.”

  “You are in no place to demand anything!” Silette spat back. “We have entertained this interloper long enough! I demand that we vote on his dismissal now, Gribani.”

  With the back of his hand, Jack sent the spiteful fairy fluttering into the chamber, crashing into several seats before she came to a stop.

  “Form a barrier!” Pistil barked in a tingle of cymbals.

  “Form a barrier!” the reply echoed, much like the sailors on the Faversham relaying an order.

  “So it’s war, then.” Jack smiled.

  “Peter, there is no war you alone can win.” Gribani opened his arms in a show of peace. “Our laws are just. We have allowed you time to prepare a vessel that will safely take you across the great ocean. We want peace with you, but if you insist on trying our patience—”

  Jack cut him off, holding up his thumb. Instantly, the shadow, his shadow, stretched well beyond where the sun had cast it, and with unseen force its dark hand shoved the fairy guards aside, ramming their small bodies into a room off of the main chamber. With a click of finality, the shadow barred the delicate little door. ‘You are the king of these fairy folk.’ the voice spoke in Jack’s head. It was one of many thoughts and memories that were not his own.

  “I am your king now; will you not bow to your king?”

  “You have the power of Pan.” Gribani backed. “Peter, this was not authorized by the council. You failed.”

  “You vile human! You have betrayed the will of this council and broken our trust. You must return the shadow to the tomb.” Silette returned, holding her head. “I don’t know by what power you accomplished this, but that is a command you will obey.”

  “Command? I obey no command from this council,” Jack growled. “The council will obey me if they know what’s good for them.”

  “You don’t understand,” Gribani said, trying to sooth Jack, his hands still outstretched. “We are not trying to hurt you, Peter. This is for your own good.”

  Jack twisted away as his mind clouded, his vision hazing with crimson as a red aura surrounded him. “No, I… I… am—”

  “Take the ring!” Silette commanded as more members of the council approached.

  Like a dark flash of lightning, the shadow returned in a howl, the sparkling enchantment that surrounded Jack pulsing away in a torrent, popping and crackling amongst the errant leaves which scattered in the wind as the fairies buffeted about.

  Flicking his eyes towards the council, Jack’s smile returned. “You truly do not understand the power of the shadow, do you?”

  “His aura is dark; I have felt it,” Silette warned, limping back from the battle line.

  “Deception?” Gribani asked as he approached Jack’s eyes.

  “I am only getting what is my due! It is not I that banished you lot to the deep. Who deceived whom?” Jack began to circle, keeping the fairies in front of him. “And why banish me? Because you can?”

  “There are a great many reasons we do what we do, Peter. It is not for you to understand. We pull from great and voluminous experiences even before the days of Nisí Poté,” Gribani tried to explain.

  “Yes, but you accepted the power of the shadow, my power, as your king. You and the wild men. Even Moremore. They are marked with tattoos of this ring. It is a symbol of the power of Pan, a symbol of my power. I know your history,” Jack snarled. “I know who you are, Gribani of Altbaum. I know you think of yourself as the great, guiding hand of the council, but no more. You are to step down or be banished!” Jack could feel the shadow’s and his thoughts and words mingling to the point that he began to lose the ability to distinguish between the two.

  “You are in no position to demand anything,” Gribani said, standing erect as he warned. “Now, return the shadow and go in peace, or your destiny will not be so blessed as it is now! We will toss you to the deep and the power of the sharks without vessel, nor provisions.”

  “I hope, for your sake, you are prepared to live with your choice,” Jack replied.

  “Now!” Sillette screamed. Like a storm of an angry hive, the fairies burst from the limbs of the tree, whirling about Jack as he stood with his hands on his hips. As quickly as they began to circle, they stopped, each fairy spraying a fistful of powder at their victim. Like a veil, the sparkling purple dust rained over him, forcing Jack to his knees in distressed annoyance, fighting against the power of the redsleeve. In successive flashes of orange flame, the trail of sparkle from each fairy was consumed as the emerald ring began to glow. Involuntary, Jack threw back his neck in a roaring crow of a great rooster once more as the power of Pan consumed the remainder of the dust, sending a bolt of intense flame racing high into the blue above. Turning his attention once more to the council, his eyes and the eyes of the shadow were alight with anger. In a great circle above him, the fairies dangled, captivated and immobile, not even their wings fluttering.

  Jack’s and the shadow’s voice echoed all about him, booming with contempt and authority. “You seek to use power that was never meant for you! It is the fairies that serve Pan, not Pan to serve you fairies!” With a glint of vengeance, a smolder of orange sparked deep within the old council tree, dark billows of smoke pluming from the ground. “I created you to be my protectors, and now you seek to be my jailers!”

  Silette’s chiming voice cracked in their defense, “This man has defied your council and has… stolen… you from your rightful successor… we—”

  “Be still, sprite!” Jack barked. He could feel the shadow beginning to look inward, curious about the one who assumed his mantle. Gazing upon the horde of fairies suspended around him, he accused, “You, with the traitor Fering sought to rule over Pan! This corrupted council is now disbanded. I am your king!”

  “You can issue no edict over us any more than you could the day you cursed us by coming to Nisí Poté!” Gribani shouted back, defiant.

  “Oh no?” Jack had had enough. With the snap of his fingers, each of the council member’s rainbow of auras began to glow brighter and brighter until—like rays of sunshine—they were a blinding white, shock and fear etched on each of their faces. “I was there the night you banished Fering and ripped his power from him.” Jack could feel the shadow becoming uneasy, but he ignored it. “I also saw what he had become.” Jack flicked his eyes towards Silette; her aura shifted from white to deep purple around the edges, black as it grew closer to her body. The fairies in the chamber gasped as Silette’s features elongated, her entire body stretching thin. What had taken ages for Fering to become happened to the council member within seconds. Chiding, Jack taunted his captives, “Fering may have been a detestable little sprite, but he had wisdom that was lost on you lot.”

  “Stop this!” the council began to shout. “You are our king. This is your kingdom forever! We swear allegiance to you and none else, Peter!”

  “That time has passed,” Jack spoke just above a whisper. He hated this island of never and had no desire to stay. He now had the power to reconcile his past, and that was what he was going to do. With a shriek, Silette popped out of existence. The remaining council members began to wail as their glows turned purple and black, their shapes changing. As he walked away, each one vanished in a flash of shadow as flames clawed up the great council tree. “You are no longer prisoners to their rules,” Jack yelled to the other little fairies, and then burst into the air without looking back.

  Jack could feel the shadow’s shock. However, there was something more. It was impressed. Darting
high above the clouds, he ripped his head back, a mighty crow of victory rending the sky. Nathan doesn’t stand a chance.

  ***

  Crincias held his face in his hands. “There were so many that could not escape the fire. The flames, the heat. The be… beauty of it. So many fell to its trance.”

  Belle lit from the leaf where they sat, her lungs still burning from the smoke. “I have to warn Tristan.”

  Chapter 37

  T ristan wandered aimlessly through the thickest part of the wood as the green canopy high overhead blocked nearly every vestige of the azure sky above. He didn’t know where he was going, and he didn’t care. It wasn’t until the forest broke that he realized he was standing before the grotto of Pan. There at the edge of the wood, Tristan couldn’t believe his eyes as, almost like a ghost, Peter stood above the tomb and then leapt in.

  Reaching out a feeble hand, Tristan shouted, “Stop!” The council would not approve. Peter couldn’t retrieve the shadow now; it was forbidden. Shrinking to fairy size, the guardian raced to the entry and then instantly stood at its edge as a man. Upon his hands and knees, he peered in past the moss. The cave walls were alight in sparkling golden flame as countless runes etched into the stone glowed like thousands of candles. “Peter,” Tristan whispered into the expanse, his voice echoing back out.

  “Tristan!” a faint cry beckoned from behind him. “Tristan!”

  The guardian panicked at Belle’s voice. After treating her so coarsely she was bound to report this breach of the sacred tomb to the council just to spite him. “Peter!” Tristan called into the opening, a few decibels louder. Lifting his head, he could see the silver light of Belle’s aura a few hundred feet away. His heart was nearly in his throat. As forbidden as it would be for Peter to recover the shadow now, it was even more so for any fairy to breach the sanctity of the tomb.