“You want to come with me? Why —”
“Where else is there?” Damian asked, apparently confused by his reaction. “Besides, I’ll owe you my life —”
“Wha — how? If I can kill them, it will only be with your help — you’ll have saved me!” Pil was confused by this turn of events. Fairy and Elfin hated each other on principle; why would he want to live in secret in a strange land?
Surely it would be difficult to smuggle Damian in, and if he were discovered… well, Pil didn’t want to think what might happen.
“I have been a prisoner my whole life — if you were to free me — I mean to say, if everything works out, it will only have happened because you came along…” said Damian with sadness in his large eyes. “I will be killed soon… and replaced… I was going to run, or kill myself to save them the pleasure.”
Pil looked in his young face at a loss for words; there was no fear of death in his eyes, only a sad resignation bred from a harsh life. He started to say something but stopped. Still looking Damian in the eye, he nodded in promise. Immediately Damian's sad face broke into a large grin; it was all the difference between night and the break of day. His scars seemed to almost disappear.
“The promise is made, then,” said Damian. “What is your name?” he added as an afterthought.
“Pil — Pil Persins,” said Pil quietly.
“Well, then — Pil — I’m taking your word — for my life. If you prove yourself, I will owe it to you —”
Pil sighed. This had not at all gone to plan — well, certainly not to his plan. It was obvious now that Damian had been planning this since he first saw Pil.
“How are we going to do it?” he asked finally.
“That noise you made earlier,” said Damian suddenly. “Was that a call or a signal?”
“A whistle — to me and my friends it means danger…”
“How do you make it? Show me —”
Pil quietly and quickly gave Damian a lesson in whistling. On the first few tries he blew only air, but on the third, he gave a low shrill whistle. Pil nodded in approval.
“I’ll go farther out into the forest and give that call as loudly as I can,” said Damian. “Then hopefully your friends will come. If not, we must create some other distraction. If your wound remains uncleansed — Sage will have power over you, and Basil should be nearly well again.”
“Why not burn it now? Set me free,” asked Pil irritably. He longed to be rid of the uncomfortable bindings.
Damian shook his head. “You’ll scream out — or else she will hear the sizzle of your skin and be prepared — and then what? You grab a stick to fight a Fairy?”
“Won’t you fight with me?” asked Pil.
“I will be less than useless to you; I have never fought — and Sage and Basil are experts in the art. It’s what earned them their position as the King’s assistants.”
Pil nodded in defeat. “So we call my friends, and when they show up — you free me?” Pil clarified in an uncertain air.
“It’s not perfect,” said Damian truthfully, “but if it doesn’t work, we will be in no worse of a position. In the meanwhile, think of a backup plan.”
“Great — well, I hope all does go that well,” said Pil doubtfully. “But I suppose it’s good I have time to think properly.”
“I think we have about one more hour before they wake up,” said Damian uncertainly. “But who knows? Blood makes you sleepy, but Basil might wake before then. And then be hungry…”
“Before you go,” said Pil suddenly, “is there any food or drink? For an Elfin, I mean.”
Damian smiled warmly and roamed quietly around the clearing to the other side of the tent. He returned a moment later burdened with a water flask and several fruits and berries. Not unkindly he poured a draught of water into Pil’s parched mouth and fed him several berries, leaving the flask and leftovers by Pil’s side.
“What about Brixton and the others?” asked Pil when he was done. “Have they eaten?”
Damian nodded, brow furrowed. “I gave them food and water; I thought at first I might use them like I am you. But that dark boy in the middle he doesn’t seem capable of anything save venomous threats and insults…”
Pil almost laughed at the disgusted expression on Damian’s face; it was much how he felt when he thought of Brixton Bells.
“Stay here — and try not to wake anyone…” said Damian uselessly.
Pil nodded and sat back against the tree to rest. Damian moved slowly to the edge of the clearing and slipped silently off into the forest. Pil was tired now; the food had left him feeling a bit healthier, but exhaustion was stealing quickly over him.
Idly he wondered what would happen next; perhaps Damian’s call might bring some creature of the forest rather than his friends. Or perhaps nothing would hear it. It was likely he would then have to fight two Fairies by himself with no weapons. He wasn’t even sure he could defeat the Fairies without help. After all, it had been Felicity who had knocked Basil unconscious. Whatever he had said to Damian — Pil had been somewhat useless.
Still, with the five of them together and with weapons, they might stand a fair chance. It all depended on luck and chance, but Damian was his last hope. Pil drifted slowly towards sleep, hoping vainly that his friends were uninjured, and that the threat about the Bahbeq had indeed been just that.
His last thoughts were of the Bahbeq: where were they now? Why had he not encountered any being in the forest during the light for so long? And most of all, who had cut the Bahbeq’s head off and taken it with them, and for what purpose?
16
A Dagger
Pil awoke to someone gently shaking his shoulder. He blinked up in the light to see Damian hunched over him.
“Did you see anyone?” asked Pil groggily, sitting up straight against the uncomfortable tree.
Damian shook his head. “No, I was out for around thirty minutes. It’s all I dared risk, but I think I might have heard something…”
“What was it?” asked Pil, sitting up in interest.
“I think it was a —” but his words were cut short as the tent flap opened loudly.
In an instant Damian was standing up straight, wearing a blank expression like a mask. Basil emerged slowly, breathing in the fresh air deeply. Sage followed close behind her. Basil glanced lazily over to Pil and her face broke into a dangerous smile.
“Is this the one, sister?” she asked in a quiet tone. “I am… famished.”
“Yes, yes, his blood is especially delicious, quite the little prize,” replied Sage briskly. “But I hardly think you deserve a drink after what you pulled —”
“I told you already!” snapped Basil, turning on her sister viciously. “I was caught unaware… I wasn’t expecting such a fight, from one so — so young.”
“You knew they were Exidite; don’t make excuses,” said Sage haughtily, trotting over to the fire to warm up.
Basil rolled her large black eyes and swaggered over to Pil, like a lion approaching its prey. She stopped suddenly short, a foot away from Pil, and turned sharply on Damian. Her dark eyes narrowed.
“You — Boy! — have you fed this little creature? What is the meaning of this!” she yelled, pointing a long talon at the food still lying next to Pil.
“I — I thought — I thought, you might want him a while longer,” Damian stumbled stoically. “Sage mentioned his blood —”
Basil approached him with a blinding speed and smacked him hard across the face, leaving deep scratches from her sharp nails.
“You thought? You thought?” she spat at him with a vicious snarl. “I don’t recall asking you to think. You aren’t meant to think — you get your stitches out, and now you are in charge, are you?” She slapped him hard again, leaving more marks of blood. "We don't have you to think or to speak, and it’s Miss to you — speak our names with your filthy mouth again, and I’ll have your tongue.”
Damian looked down, his cheeks red with more than just blood, an empty
expression on his face. “Yes ma’am, sorry, Miss — it wasn’t — sorry, if —” Basil turned away from him, pointedly uninterested. Damian’s voice had been toneless and polite, but Pil noticed his hands shaking ever so slightly with the effort of staying calm.
Basil walked away huffily to face Pil. She bent down and bored her eyes, like black pits of hate, into his face.
“You’ll last a few days, I expect,” Basil said appraisingly. “Not much to you, though — so tiny — suppose it’s worth a taste at the least.”
With the quickness of a snake, she plunged her sharp teeth into the sore spot on his neck. It hurt like a bruise but the pain of the wound was getting familiar to him. It was the sucking that left Pil dizzy and aching. Basil pulled quite a bit more than a taste, and it left him feeling light-headed. Pil blinked dark splotches out of his eyes as she released him. Luckily, she hadn’t taken enough to make him pass out again — at least, not yet.
Basil washed the blood off her ruby-red lips absentmindedly and closed her eyes in pleasure.
“Ahh, sis, you were right about this one, quite the prize,” said Basil blissfully.
“We should let it last if we can — finish off the other three before we really begin to feast,” said Sage thoughtfully.
“What of the mission, sis? The others —”
Sage smiled smugly. “They won’t survive — not in here…”
Basil turned to Pil again, a sinister look in her eye. “He looks mighty like that Harlem,” she said slyly. “Just a bit of hair here.” And, producing a knife from nothing, she began to cut the sides of his head.
Pil kept unusually still as the blade slipped down the sides of his temple. His eyes focused furiously on hers — large, cold, and black.
“How do you know Harlem,” said Pil grimly as hair fell from his head. Basil smiled in a sinister sort of way. Her face was an inch from his. Pil could see his own reflection in her glass black eyes as she cut his hair. “We know all the Exidite — your people have a traitor.”
Pil grimaced as she absentmindedly slipped and cut his head. A trickle of blood ran down over his eye.
“Who is it — I mean, if you’re going to kill me anyway —”
Cold metal struck Pil hard in the mouth before he could finish his sentence. There was a flash of pain and he felt blood filter into his mouth.
“Be quiet, I — what’s this?” Her eyes lighted on Pil’s front; sticking partially out of his tunic was the gold crystal necklace. “And where did you find this, boy?” she asked, a sick smile playing around her lips. She plucked the necklace out and held it up to the light. The gold glinted in the sun.
“Oh, what a prize — you, boy, are full of surprises…”
Pil glared at her; he didn’t care about the necklace, but he hated being helpless. Basil was toying with him; she was showing him just how much control she had over him.
“Look, Sage,” she said, placing the necklace around her own neck. She stood up and backed away towards her sister. “And look at the boy — just like that Harlem, such the prize… We could make him do it, you know — track his little friends down — we’ve got him in a double bind — we could make him do anything…”
Basil eyed Pil coyly as she said this, immense amusement playing across her beautifully cold eyes.
Sage sighed indifferently. “We could… but I’d rather get back to the King.” She glanced sharply in Pil’s direction. “But if you’re not a good little boy on the road, consider that the least of your punishments.”
Pil nodded meekly and avoided her gaze.
“How do we know that he is even doing his job?” Basil asked Sage cryptically.
“The head was gone. He must be…” Sage answered, unconcerned. “Hush — did you hear that just now?”
“Hear wha — ahhh!”
A figure fell suddenly from the tree above Basil and landed hard on top of her. They fell to the floor in a flurry of limbs. There, amid the flailing limbs of Basil, was Felicity.
Felicity recovered quickly from the fall and pinned Basil to the ground. But Basil was fighting ferociously back. Felicity lashed out, hitting her with all her weight. There was a loud crack and Basil lay still among the leaves once more.
A scream of fury rent the air. Pil turned as Sage came flying across the glen and leapt viciously at Felicity. But with a gentle twang, she fell sharply to the floor, an arrow’s tail sprouting from her shoulder.
Sage screamed as her hand came back from the wound glazed with bright-red blood. Pil looked quickly to where the arrow had been shot. Standing like a pale shadow, shaking in fear at what he had just done, was Sandy.
Pil could have laughed at the expression on his face, but Sage was already on her feet and charging towards him, snarling viciously.
Sandy was frozen in fear, his jaw dropped in shock, and Sage was hurtling forward at an impossible speed.
“Sandy, move!” Pil shouted desperately.
Sage leapt for his throat but dodged to the side mid-leap as a hammer came crashing down towards her head.
It was Dirk’s war hammer, and Dirk, having just missed — wielded it towards Sage again. His hammer whistled through the air faster than its size assumed it should. Sage jumped to avoid it; she leapt high up and turned gracefully to face Pil.
“DAMIAN —” she screamed furiously. “The boy — kill him!”
Pil looked to Damian, who caught his eye briefly.
“Do it now!” Sage screamed, floating eerily downwards.
Damian leapt into action — he jumped to the fireplace and grabbed something from the grass near the fire. In seconds, he was back next to Pil, a glint of steel in his hands; and for a moment, as Pil caught sight of those black eyes and dark expression, Pil thought he might have been wrong. Damian had been messing with him, and he knew he was about to be killed.
He heard Dirk yell something indistinct, and Felicity scream wordlessly, but then Damian lunged with the knife to the right of Pil and cut his bindings. Pil felt them jump apart and fall to the forest floor even as his heart dropped, and relief flooded through his veins.
“What are you doing — you fool!” Sage screamed, enraged.
Damian ignored her and brought the knife up to Pil’s neck; a burning wave of heat rolled over him as the knife came up. Pil realized only a second too late what Damian must have done. And then it was against his flesh, the scalding hot metal burning deeply into his neck — and the pain of it was blinding.
Pil roared pointlessly as his skin hissed and smoked.
But Damian pulled the blade off almost as quickly as he had put it on, and the pain subsided with it. Pil sat still, panting heavily, with his neck sweltering.
“Charring hell, Damian,” he huffed. “Did you have to push so roughly?”
Damian smiled warmly. “I’m sure you’ve been through worse. You should be clean now, anyway — their magic bind will not sway you — so long as you’re wary of it.”
Pil nodded, but then a figure dashing towards them from across the field brought him sharply to his feet. Pil tilted at the sudden movement and reached out for his pained neck. The wound felt hot and rough like a blister.
“Pil,” Felicity screamed as she ran to him.
“I’m fine, Fel — really,” said Pil, injured.
Felicity ignored him and shoved Damian roughly to the ground, glaring at him. “What did you do!?” she screamed violently.
“Fel — stop, he’s been helping me — it had to be done —”
Felicity looked at Pil and then glared back down at Damian. “Fine —” she grumbled, reaching behind her back. “Here’s your sword, anyway,” she said as she pulled out Glass and handed him the hilt. He took it from her and raised the blade to the sun, it glinted a dark sheen in the light.
Pil brought it back down and took in his surroundings. Dirk and Sandy were standing stock-still, staring at Pil in confusion. Sage was pulling Basil to her feet; she looked dazed and confused, but all the more furious because of it. He a
ssessed the situation quickly.
“Damian — Felicity — you two stay back,” said Pil, bringing his sword towards the two Fairies, who were now both on their feet.
“Pil, I can help,” Felicity argued.
“No! All you have are knives. They are too quick for that — Dirk!” Pil yelled suddenly. “You are with me.” Pil glanced sharply around. “Sandy, every shot you get — take it — aim to kill.”
Sandy jumped in fright at being addressed, but he nodded and notched an arrow. Dirk was already marching over to him, his hammer swinging, his eyes stuck on the two Fairy women.
Basil was fully recovered and bearing her sharp white teeth at them all in warning. There was a tense moment and then, without warning, Basil rose into the air quick as a bird — she ricocheted off a nearby branch and careened towards Dirk, claws bared for his throat. Dirk for his part, turned only just in time. Twisting awkwardly mid-step, he spun her harshly off to the side with his hammer.
At the same time, Sage had begun to move.
Pil lost track of Dirk as she rushed lithely towards him across the grass. He had only just enough time to brace himself for her attack, when an arrow broke through her path, narrowly missing its mark. Sage rocketed aside and continued running as another arrow flew by. Her black eyes were trained for Pil only.
The minute Sage was within reach of his sword he swung, but Pil hit only air as she dodged smoothly aside. Fast as the wind, she dashed in; thrusting the ball of her foot up powerfully into his stomach. Pil flew backward and fell to the ground, the air hurrying from him; but Sage would give him no relief. She bore down on top of him, jabbing pointedly towards his throat.
Pil somehow managed to roll out of the way as she struck the dirt next to him. He cut weakly out towards her with his sword. She dodged hastily out of the way with a scream of frustration before lunging in again; forcing Pil to duck her attack and stagger hurriedly away.
Sage had almost managed to take his head off with that last swing. But he was ready as she swung around and lashed out with her foot. He parried the blow with the palm of his sword and leapt on top of her. They crashed roughly on a bed of leaves, Pil scrambling to pin her as she writhed beneath him. With a sudden blow, Pil brought the handle of Glass down hard — there was a crack and Sage lay suddenly stiff.
After the Dark Page 16