A/N: I'm back! Didyamissme? This story has been on the brain for around two years and is mainly inspired by two movies which I'll reveal at the end (although if you guess them, I'll let you know if you were right). The last few years have been somewhat unpredictable and chaotic, but life is settling down into the beginning of a routine finally. I'm sorry if I haven't replied much as of late, but I hope to remedy that in the upcoming weeks.
This story will have the usual weekly updates.
Read and enjoy,
Cat.
ooOoo
Prologue
Once upon a time, the land was filled with fairies. All kinds of fairies. Fairies that pilfered freshly-baked bread, and fairies that tangled hair in the night, and even fairies that stole socks – but only the left ones. There were boggarts and pixies, brownies and elves, and they all resided in the forest that bordered the human kingdom. And the humans tolerated their fey neighbours, as well as they could, for the creatures were troublesome and mischievous and were a constant danger to the humans.
But one day a fairy more dangerous than the others appeared. She was a gryphon – a rare, winged fairy whose presence scared the humans. So the childless king made a decree that whoever slew the beast would become his heir.
Needless to say, many young men tried – and failed – to take down the creature. She was too quick and too cautious to be caught by any ordinary means.
Almost.
Nearly a year passed, and hope was dwindling, when a young peasant tricked the fairy. With the help of an enchanted dagger and a sleeping draught, he killed the gryphon and severed her wings from her back. He presented her wings to the king, and thus the fairy threat was eliminated, for once and for all.
In time, the peasant became king, as promised, and the king a husband, and finally a father. He ruled fairly and justly, and the humans were pleased with their new ruler; a ruler with humble beginnings, who knew of their hardships and troubles, and he was loved by many. And the evil fairy, who had so threatened their kingdom, was gone and the kingdom lived on in peace.
Or so the story goes...
ooOoo
Chapter 1: The Night Visitor
Humbert von Gikkingen – son of the sorcerer, Baron Edmund von Gikkingen and the herbalist, Lady Elora von Gikkingen – watched the brownie scuttle across the desk.
In some parts of the world, brownies were considered a blessing. They were said to tidy and clean and – in some cases – even make shoes. Whoever thought that had obviously never seen a brownie, Humbert was sure, let alone have one in their house. Brownies were ugly creatures – small and squat and – unsurprisingly – brown. An ugly shade of brown. They had tiny, pinprick eyes and sharp teeth that – and Humbert was glad to have no experience in the matter – had a very nasty, and very painful bite.
They were none too smart either, for the brownie in question was running straight across the desk, in plain view of the human. It hadn't even thought to shapeshift. It just scurried, in its ugly, wrinkled, humanoid form.
Humbert watched the stupid creature scurry for a little longer before breaking patience. He leant back and picked up a pair of tongs beside the long-dead fire from the night before. He tapped it once against his palm to clear the remaining soot, and then snagged the dumb creature with the prongs.
Needless to say, the brownie spewed forth a myriad of ugly and none-too-inventive insults that were, overall, pretty crass. Certainly nothing Humbert would ever dare to say in front of his mother. Not if he didn't want a harsh boxing round the ears, anyway.
He rose to his feet with the brownie still attached to the prongs and still spitting abuse. He briefly wondered whether, if he held it for long enough, it would run out of insults, but he decided against it. He received the distinct impression that the creature could go on for quite a while yet.
He marched over to the window of his room and dangled the brownie over the herbaceous garden. In throwing the creature across the garden, he was rewarded with a shrill scream as it disappeared beyond their hedge.
"And stay out!" he shouted.
"Humbert!" His mother called his name through the door, sharply tapping against the side. "Louise is here! Oh! What's going on?" Elora's eyes widened as Humbert opened the door with the ashened tongs still in hand. He remembered he was wielding the metal and lowered it.
"Brownie," he muttered.
"Another one? That's the third one this week."
"We should really start thinking about setting some traps down," the young man said. He dropped the tongs into the coal bucket brushed the dust off his hands. This was a topic he'd breached many times and every time it had received the same answer.
"Humbert, you know what your father and I think about those things. No traps."
"But, Mother–"
"No traps," Elora firmly repeated, in that tone she used when there really was no point arguing further. She manoeuvred him out of his room and pushed him in the direction of the front door. "Louise is waiting for you outside; don't leave her waiting." She kissed him on the cheek and sent him going. "And don't forget the festival tonight."
"How could I forget?" He grinned once back to his mother before disappearing through the door to greet the beautiful blonde standing at his doorstep. He dropped into a low bow, sweeping an imaginary top hat off his head. "My princess."
The young woman swatted at him. "I told you not to call me that."
"Of course, my princess."
She flicked him on the nose, causing him to straighten abruptly from his bow. "Stop it."
He rubbed his nose ruefully. "Or what? You'll set your father on me?"
"Don't tempt me," she said, but the smile twitching at her lips betrayed her humour. "Come on; Muta and Toto are already in the town square. Muta's helping his father set up the stall for the festival this evening." She wrinkled her nose. "I think we've been drafted in to help set up the decorations."
"We?" Baron echoed.
The young princess laughed. "Well, okay, maybe they drafted you in specifically. I think they need more tall people to set up the bunting." She beamed. "I'm just there for encouragement and aesthetic."
Humbert laughed and started towards the square. Louise really was pretty – well, beautiful. Her hair was closer to platinum blonde, and her eyes were a brilliant blue. Even as the princess – which Humbert could never quite get to grips with – she spent more time out of the palace than in it, bustling round the town and acting more like a common local than royalty.
"So, what was the shouting about?" The blonde skipped backwards as they went, uncannily light on her feet. When Humbert's surprise became visible on his face, she grinned. "I think I saw something fly from the first floor as I arrived – screaming as it went. Another fairy?"
"Brownie," the young nobleman confirmed. "The critters won't stop creeping into the house. I keep telling mother to set down some traps, but..."
"She still won't hear of such a thing?" Louise finished. "Well, I guess they are living things..."
"So are mice and Mother's fine with setting traps for them. Anyway," he added, "mice don't have quite the same sting in a single bite."
"A single bite?" A new voice piped up from behind the couple, audibly smirking. "Are we referring to fatso's ability to devour a cake in one mouthful?" Toto Morrigan, son of a local carpenter (the elder Morrigan fully intent on his wayward son following his legacy) bounced at Humbert's elbow. Toto had no intention of taking up the family business, but he hadn't quite got round to telling his father that. He was tall and thin with piercing black eyes and an angular face. He was the exact opposite of the man across the square.
To say that Renaldo Moon – or Muta, to his friends – was fat would perhaps not be unjust. He was, in all fairness, rather large and his overall shape could only be truly described as 'round'. Still, it was perhaps wise to keep such observations to oneself; Muta had little patience for being reminded of such details. The man in question flung a string of bunting at Toto's head.
"I heard that, ya chickenbrain!"
"I'd rather be a chicken than a Christmas pudding!"
Humbert raised his eyebrows to Louise. "Tell me truly: did you just bring me here for damage control?"
The blonde grinned. "Well, you know what they get like when they work together."
"So what am I meant to do? They don't listen to me."
Louise shrugged. "Well, they definitely don't listen to me."
"You're the princess," Humbert reminded her. "Surely there's something you can do?" Even as he spoke, the verbal argument had grown into physical, and some of the cakes from Muta's family bakery were threatening to become casualties.
"Oh, sure," the woman answered. "I could clap them in chains, if you really wanted, but I don't think even a night in the palace dungeon would cool them down. Anyway," she added, "the only thing scarier than them being mad at each other is the idea of them both being mad at me. Perhaps another time."
Around the square, other stalls were being set up for that evening's festivities, although the other people paid little heed to the brewing storm settling between Toto and Muta. After all, they were local. They were far too familiar with the carpenter and baker's sons; the two were unfortunate neighbours and declared enemies. Strangely enough, this somehow didn't stop friendship from springing up between them.
Louise, as familiar as anyone was with the duo's fights, ignored them and took a seat perched on a box of decorations. A leafed garland hung limply from the side. "So... are you excited for the festival tonight?"
"Of course. Who doesn't enjoy the summer celebration?"
"Your father said he's going to give you full reign over the light display this evening."
"That is true."
Louise grinned. "Are you nervous?"
"Nervous?" Humbert repeated. "Of what? It's only a light display that everyone – and I mean everyone, your royal father included – in the town is going to be watching and expecting... What's there to be nervous about?"
As the shouting behind them grew to a crescendo, Louise rolled her eyes and slipped to her feet. "Sounds like it's time to intercede. Don't worry about tonight, Humbert. You'll do great."
"What makes you so sure?"
"Well, I know you... and I've seen the magic you do. You've been practicing for weeks, Humbert. You know what you're doing. What could possibly go wrong?"
ooOoo
On the first evening of the week-long summer festival, the night always opened with a light display. For the past twenty years, this service had been provided by the sorcerer, Baron Edmund von Gikkingen and, in more recent years, in tandem with his son. This, however, was the first year that Humbert von Gikkingen stood alone on the turret of the tower, waiting for the sun to set.
From his vantage point, he could see the eager crowd gathering in the square, bustling and chattering, excited for the summer festival to finally officially begin. At his current height, Humbert could also make out the edge of the town and, beyond that, the forest.
The forest had always – as long as anyone remembered – been home to the fairies. More and more recently, however, they had been venturing out and wandering into the town. Even the smaller ones – the brownies and pixies – were dangerous in the nasty bite they could deliver. Only fools would live so close to fey lands but, for whatever reason, their ancestors had seen fit to set up settlement here. And their descendents, stubborn as they were, were too obstinate to change that. The forest loomed out across the landscape and over the horizon, halted only by the coastline that rounded from the town and into the distance.
Humbert put his back to the dark woodland and leant down against the circular tower. He rolled up his sleeves and clicked his fingers, sparking his magic into life. Little embers of light flickered from his hands and illuminated the light grey suit he had donned for the occasion. He flexed his hands and the sparks disappeared.
The crowd murmured below him. They were growing restless; the sun had already set, but light still streamed from over the horizon. Humbert's father had told him to wait a little longer before starting the show.
"You don't want to tire yourself out before it's dark enough to see the show," Edmund had told him earlier. "The audience might get impatient, but it's much easier to impress them when you don't have to compete with the sun."
And so Humbert waited. He started to warm up his magic, flicking miniature light shows into life before him. Like fireworks, the miniature coloured lights spun up to head height, slowed, and then burst into new colours. He wove them in and out of one another, practicing the show that he would soon present to the crowd. Although his father had reassured him that extending the size of the lights was nothing too complicated, Humbert had never created a light show of such magnitude and complicity solo. Right now, the dancing lights were easily manipulated between his fingers.
The last residuals of light slipped over the horizon and the sky darkened. Humbert breathed in the warm night air and stepped up to the turret's edge. Before the crowd, Humbert could make out the blonde, almost white, head of Louise, standing beside the regal form of her father, the king. Despite her position, the young woman raised her hands in a thumbs up to him. Humbert grinned.
"Alright. Here we go..."
He rolled his hands over one another, running them round and round until a ball of light started to form between his palms. The glow gave off a gentle warmth that tingled with the enchantment of magic. Between his fingers, blues and reds flickered, tendrils of green and yellow weaving through and sparking off flames of purple and gold. As yet more colours emerged, a thin sheen of sweat started to build on his brow. The difficulty wasn't just in creating the magic, but also in confining it.
He was breathing hard now. He took a half step back and opened his palms to the skies; the lights spewed out into the heavens and spiralled up. Humbert's hands danced through the air, working hard to reel the light into his control. A sweep of his palm and a cascade of purple lights exploded apart and spun down into the crowd. Humbert risked a laugh as the audience gasped, and then settled into audible awe at the will-o-wasps dancing around them.
His father had often told him to imagine guiding the lights as a puppeteer pulls strings. He twisted his fingers and the blue lights cascaded over one another, rolling into a wave. White stars jumped out of the surf and gathered into leaping dolphins.
He let the watery scene collapse and spun the lights into a bouquet. From the posy, a handful of red and green dots dropped down to Louise's level. From the distance he stood, it was difficult to create the detail, but he had practised this many times. He wove the lights into a rose that glowed before the blonde. He wished he could see her face.
Now he found the practice taking hold. He threw himself into the next stage of the show, his hands moving instinctively to puppeteer the dancing stars. The flowers melted into butterflies, and then into twisting lights that split into birds. Humbert fired shooting stars across the town, their colours changing and sweeping back towards the tower when they reached the ground – when a shadow of something slipped across the darkening night sky.
Something large.
Humbert twisted where he stood, trying to make out the shape. The puppet stars faltered as he strained to watch the shadow shift between the glittering images. The lights blinded out the darkness, and so the audience below had no idea of the form flying beyond the show, but Humbert knew something was out there.
His hands continued to twist the lights through the show through pure practice, but his mind was elsewhere now. Unintentionally, the shooting stars he was firing deviated from their course and followed his line of sight. He tried to pull them back, but it was already too late for that.
The first star to hit the creature burst into fiery red.
The crowd screamed as a winged form was momentarily outlined in crimson. The head was curved round, refined and furred with jaws bared with teeth. The teeth flashed uncannily white in the light. But it was the wings – the wings that curved up across the body and spread out across the sky – that sent the crowd scattering back.
Another of Humbert's comets smacked into the creature's side – this one a deep-sea blue – and the form was outlined once again. It dropped down and Humbert could see it spiralling out of the town and towards the coastline, blinded by the lights. The young man dropped shaking hands to his side and then a gradual commotion started in the square.
He was shocked enough by the creature to take several slow moments to recognise the sound as applause. The audience had evidently decided that the beast had been an elaborate trick and that it was the grand finale to his show.
The young man stepped back and slipped to the ground. He was sweating.
It hadn't been a trick.
It had been real.
And he knew his eyes hadn't deceived him.
He... had just shot down a gryphon.
ooOoo
"You didn't tell me you'd added that to your routine." Louise prodded Humbert playfully in the arm. "It almost gave me a heart attack! How long had you been practising that in secret?"
The young man smiled ruefully, but didn't answer immediately. If word started to get out that he thought he had seen a gryphon – and now, an hour later, he wasn't so sure that he had – then panic would spread. It had been nearly two decades since the last one had been around and the stories of fear were still far too abundant. "The shock was part of the effect," he eventually settled on.
"But it looked so lifelike – I think Father actually swore when he saw it!" The blonde seemed rather amused by her father's reaction, regardless of his royal status. "I think he thought it was a ghost. All the same," she added, prodding him once more, "don't do that again. You nearly started a riot."
That didn't make Humbert feel any better. "Don't worry; that'll be the last gryphon you'll see from me."
ooOoo
On the first official day of the summer festival, Humbert rose with the sun. He left a short note explaining his absence – collecting herbs for his mother's work was the excuse he gave – and headed out of the town. After a good night's sleep, the idea of a gryphon seemed even more absurd than it had an hour after the event. After all, everyone knew that King David had slain the last one years ago.
But still... he had to be sure.
As he trooped through the forest, towards the coastline, he began to wonder just how foolish this plan had been. Yes, the creature had been big – twice as big as a lion – but the forest was bigger. Far bigger. Even if it had made it to the coastline, there was miles of it to have fallen. And that was assuming it hadn't flown into the sea and perished. Could fairies even swim? He had never heard of one being seen in the ocean.
The forest around him hummed with untamed life. Wild life. Life that wouldn't, he was sure, be too fussed about taking a bite or two out of him. Even with the bow – which had been a present several years back – strung across him, he was far from reassured that he could defend himself. He had the aim for the weapon, but not the speed or instinct. Or even the practice, really. If something came for him, his last action would probably be him fumbling for the dratted thing.
Swatting away the tangled vines dropping down from the colloquially-known fairy trees, Humbert came to the cliff-edge that bordered the coast. Below, the sea rolled against the rock, smashing indefinitely into the barrier. He leant out, gazing out along the cliff to see the land's end stretch out across the forest.
He was about to turn around and give the cause up when he spotted a felled tree leaning perilously over the side. It looked freshly fallen.
He hesitated as a frown burrowed its way into his brow. It was probably nothing, but... just in case...
He followed the cliff-edge until he came to the fallen tree. Its branches were scattered across the ground, its roots ripped straight from the earth. Something big had struck it last night.
Humbert crept to the brink of the cliff. A small, sandy shore buffered the land from the sea, and rocks rose just above the high tide limit to present a dry plateau. It would have been an almost perfect beach – if it hadn't been separated from the forest by ten metres of cliff. Yes, it was very nice – but there was no fairy to be seen.
He smiled weakly to himself, feeling more foolish than ever. He turned away. A winged fairy? It looked like he had been working one night too many.
Something moved on the ground below.
Humbert stopped.
Listened.
It was the sound of soft, but large, footsteps. Or, perhaps more accurately, pawsteps. There was also the noise of something heavy being dragged along a rocky surface. That was harder to identify. He crept back to the edge and peered over.
The dark form of the gryphon limped across the plateau.