A twinkling night shone upon the small village of Targnot, where the stars seemed to wink at the residents who were taking their nightly strolls and ganders around the neighborhood. Children laughed and contested with each other in games of shozzits and polymaggles, each trying to become the king of each game and showing up the others in their delight. Old men sat around taking slow and steady drags from their lit pipes and muttering to each other about all the racket the children were making. All was peace and joy in this small town where every passerby was welcomed with a warm home and good meal. Yes, it was the perfect village. But all that changed on the coming night of the Festival of Fairy Lights, and that is where our story begins...
The lanterns winked dubiously at the skulking form of Tolky Wittle. Too much wine often had this effect on this poor stub of a man. Many a time had Tolky waddled his overly large self to the local pub in high hopes, only to leave shortly after with naught but a headache and an all-consuming desire for female companionship.
Having sufficiently drowned his woes in drink, Tolky had settled down behind Hillcrest's pub. The bins around which he sat reeked of spoiled food stuffs and the lingering smell that comes of having seen too many drunks fall to their knees amongst the garbage.
Tinkling blue fairies danced before Tolky's eyes, sparks of light against the backdrop of the darkening sky above. Their giggles rang in Tolky's head as tinkling bells and whistling chimes.
It was the season of the fairies.
Litch of the High Clouds sat picking his teeth with a discarded squirrel's rib bone. He was bored and began to search for an amusement to satisfy his taste for chaos. After all, he thought to himself, what better night is there then during the festival, in which humans and fairies were allowed contact. Smiling deviously, he set off with a grin over the warm glow of the village lights below him. Lazily, he scanned the crooks and crannies of the town, until he spotted something that brought a cackling laugh and a smile which would have scared the souls of any a demon. A man lay sprawled in an alley way surrounded by kink-offs, or lesser and more primitive fairies.
"How amusing," he commented with a smirk, "let us see how the Lessers will handle my little game. And as for that fat oaf, I think his whiskey will make him see oh so many strange things tonight...oh dear, oh dear."
Tolky jerked from his drunken stupor upon hearing a boom the likes of a thousand trees being savagely uprooted. The prancing fairies scattered, their chirruping drowned out by the crash. Again, a second din. The lights of Hillcrests flickered ominously and cast giant shadows around the alleyway. Had Tolky been in his right mind, then he would have probably scurried as fast as his chubby stumps of les would carry him, but his current state befuddled his mind. He giggled to himself at the funny figures the light procured on the walls and uncontrollably blew bubbles in the spittle that dripped from his open mouth.
Suddenly, a leering face sprung from the stars that twinkled above him. With a drunken movement, he tried to swipe at the face but found himself being swept into a roaring vacuum of space. He yelled out incomprehensively and franticly waved his arms about to catch onto a nearby bin, but it came to no avail. He heard a shrill cackle above him as he was slowly being lifted off his feet. Then a shatter was heard and he dropped to the ground like a bag of rocks.
"Youch!", came a voice from above, "Meddlesome urchin, you'll pay for this!" A flash of emerald light and then the sky was quiet once more.
Quick footsteps came to Tolky's ears and he suddenly saw a pair of worn leather boots in front of his face. Slowly, he lifted his eyes from the boots to the person's face. A boy stared down at him.
"You'd best be gettin' up sir. It won't be long 'afore he comes back. The jar of holy water I threw at 'im will only work for a few minutes."
As Tolky tried hard to adjust his eyes with all the dirt smeared across his face with what business he had had in the alleyway mixed in, he came to a slow realization as the stranger spoke.
He wasn't talking to a boy, but a girl.
He couldn't believe it...he was staring up at a girl, and a young one at that. Confusion mingled with alcohol clouded Tolky's mind. What had the thing been? Where had this girl come from? Why were his clothes sopping wet and where had all these glass shards come from?
The little girl looked down at him wearily. She could see the heavy bags drooping under the fat man's eyes. She could smell the horrid odor of the man's breath as he gaped opened mouthed at her.
Hoping, praying, that this man hadn't realized who she really was, the girl hastily gave a false name.
"Sorry, I have come to know many things about beings like that, and fortunately know how to deal with them. My name is..."
" I do not have a care as to what your name is, yo horrid girl.
"Ah, 'cuse me?", she said as the fat man's face slowly reddened.
"Yo 'eard me! What you been doin'? Trying ta act funny wid me, eh? Get you, go on, GET!"
Trying to stand, Tolky attempted to rush at her but found himself face planted in rubbish.
"Well, you ain't gonna be an easy one." she replied, trying to hide her smirk, "I'd best get you to some housing. Come on." And with that she grabbed one of his beefy arms and supported him as she half-dragged, half-carried the man to a cheery looking pub down the street. 'Ow is she able to carry me, thought Tolky stupidly.
It wasn't hard to see why Tolky had mistaken the girl for a boy. She dressed in a worn traveling coat that only showed a glimpse of a leather jerkin that complimented a curious looking belt around her waist holding twin blades. Her hair was cut roughly short and a black, broad hat hid part of her face.
"As I was sayin' 'afore you so rudely butt'd in," she said, "you can call me Lark."
Tolky couldn't help but be astounded at the audacity of this girl. Not only had it been out of place for such an insolent child to even talk to a man such as himself, but to strike a conversation with him, as if he were a bumbling mute. No, he would not have it.
Hoisting himself up independently of Lark, Tolky drunkenly slurred, "Afore I so rudely what? Ow dare you. I say. I toll chew ta get."
Lark's traveling coat swished in the wind as she listened to the stammerings of the overly large man. She had started to doubt helping him even from the start. Really, she had saved his life. She deserved a little respect for that.
"As I said 'afore, I need to get you tah some housing. Hopefuls some'un u'll be able to get yah cleaned up and outta those acrid clothes."
They lumbered through the swinging doors of the tavern as Lark unceremoniously dropped Tolky into a large oak chair. Though the chair was the largest in the room Tolky found immense difficulty fitting his rotund bottom between the arms of it. With all the commotion Tolky was making, everyone in the pub looked up at the new stranger. Lark quietly strided up to the bartender and whispered something incomprehensive into his ear. Nodding his head, he headed to a door leading to the back of the bar. When he came back, he had in his hands a large bucket. The bartender walked up to Tolky and dumped the frigid ice cold water onto his head.
Tolky let out a yell that sounded like a gun going off.
"Well, 'e should be soberin' up soon enough," Lark said, "I'd best be headin' on my way."
"Now, hold-up missy. Where do you think that you are off to at this time of night?" The bartender replaced the bucket and gambled on over to Lark, setting a firm, fatherly hand on her shoulder.
"I dunnot see 'ow that is any business of yours, sir," Lark politely returned.
Taken aback, the bartender released her shoulder and stood silently, watching Lark stalk through the pub doors.
Lark had never caught the podgy man's name, and her sudden realization of this was somewhat disconcerting. She had no information whatsoever as to whom she had dragged halfway through Targnot. Why did she care so much, though? It was not as if he had her real name. That was something that nobody knew besides herself, and she would never willingly share it with another being, fairy or human, or even a lowly regen for that matter. Who knows what kind of obstacles such a small act would bring about.
Suddenly, Lark stopped dead cold. Quickly, she drew her blades and took a steady stance. Someone was following her. She could sense them now as their eyes pierced into her back.
"Who's there?" she called.
From the shadows of the building slid out a tall figure. It seemed to be a man and yet there was something so inhuman about him that for a moment Lark quivered. His coat was crimson and within the shadow that was cast from his hood came a voice.
"I have come for it. Relinquish it quickly and I promise no harm to come to you," he said in a honeyed voice that didn't completely cover the command in its tone.
"Never."
All of a sudden, there came a heat that threw the night into a sweltering oven. The blades that she held sizzled in the flame that covered them as she lunged at the man. I won't let them take it, she thought.
The temperature sweltered until blisters began to form on Lark's hands where the sizzling blade was burning her skin. Her neck, unprotected, was already starting to burn a blood red.
Dismissing all bodily anguish, Lark threw herself at the hooded figure, swiping her blades across her chest in two glorious arches. No creature, human or inhuman, could match her skill with these deadly scythes. She would never allow them the glory of having it within their grasps. They would have to pry it from her cold dead fingers, and she wasn't intending on going without a fight.
Her blades at the ready, Lark thrust them out and slashed madly at the figure, she was now but a few yards from him. She concentrated on her actions with no regard for the heat, which was intensifying with every bound she took.
And then, he wasn't there. She blinked and suddenly found herself thrown backwards off her feet and crashed into a wall. She heard a pop as her shoulder dislocated itself as she slid down the brick wall.
Shakingly, she got to her feet. The fire from the blade dimmed slightly but did not go out. Once more, she took her stance though one of her arms lay limp at her side. The being appeared yet again before her and she felt something melting through her...it came down and down, filling her being.
'You want to give it to me,' it said, 'there will be no more pain, you can rest...fall into the nothingness and feel no more...'
Suddenly her eyes flew open and the two flames turned into a fiery furnace. The being could not get near her, his attempts were futal while he made strange clacking noises of rage.
But her energy was soon spent and as the fire was almost dissipated, she heard a voice and saw a figure fly through the air at the man.
"Oi! Back off you!" said the boy holding a stave firmly between his hands. He stood between both of them, pointing his weapon at the towering figure.
Lark gawked admiringly up at the boy. He couldn't have been much older than she, but nonetheless, he had a power about him that inspired courage. Lark threw her last reserves of energy into action and swept her blades through the air. This time they met their mark and sliced through the figure like butter.
She fell into a heap on the ground, rapidly falling into unconsciousness. The boy leaned over her, his long braids of earthen brown hair falling into her face. Returning his stave to its sheath, the boy scooped Lark up in his portly arms and proceeded down the road.
Turning into a discreet alleyway off of the main road, he gently placed Lark down on a crated platform and kneeled before her. Placing his elegant hands over her fevered brow, the boy siphoned the heat from her limpid form and transfused his life into hers. Weak beams of yellow light radiated from both of their bodies and the alleyway was momentarily lit with a feeble glow, like that of a jar of fireflies.
As soon as it had begun, the glow ceased and the darkness enveloped the alley yet again.
The boy waited and drew the last of the heat from Lark's body.
Minutes passed, the boy remaining kneeling and murmuring enchantments under his breath.
When he was beginning o lose hope that she had survived, her body seized. Long breathes of refreshing air surged through Lark and then slowed. She stirred.
Her blistered fingers glowed with life, twitching and fumbling though they were.
Slowly, Lark opened her eyes. She looked at the boy as he continued to spread his hands over her and watched as her oozing hands slowly healed. So 'e knows magic, she thought to herself as she tried to sit upright. She could see that the boy was beginning to tire from the exertion.
"Stop," she croaked, "there be a better way. Do ya happen ta have some water on ya?"
He quickly brought out a flask.
"Now, if you'll be so kind as ta pour it on my 'ands. 'Eal it now."
He began murmuring once again and from the water grew a pulsating light that spread over her wounds, healing them all.
"It'll only work for burns so don't be relying on that method too much. Thank ya very much but I must be on my way now," she said but as she tried to stand up, he pushed her back down.
"You won't be going anywhere right now. What was that thing that attacked you?" he asked inquisitly.
"The reason I'd best be leavin' this town. I didn't kill 'im; he'll be back soon enough, "she said as she tried to pass him but he wasn't letting her go anywhere.
"That's not the answer I'm looking for. Now tell me exactly why you are running."
She paused as she considered her options. He saved her so he might be trusted. Besides, she didn't have enough energy to fight him off.
"Aright," she said, "you may call me Lark. I am 'an apprentice ta the famed Garnet of the South. That thing you saw 'appens ta be one of 'is associates and I need very much to 'ide something that is in my possession. That's all you'll get out of me. Now if you'll be so kind as ta let me pass now, I'll need ta go get my weapon 'for the road."
She glanced down at her hands. "I'm quite an idiot," she said to herself, "I should 'ave know better ta wear my gloves everywhere."
The boy propped his elbow on the crate upon which she lay. His cheek rested upon his hand as he half-heartedly restrained Lark. She is so beautiful, he thought, absent-mindedly drooling onto his palm. Lark's appreciation soon died away as the steady stream of drool drained down his cheek. But the boy didn't seem to notice, what a strange person. Was it possible that he had only the appearance of intelligence? For if he truly was a smart as he let on then he wasn't doing a good job of showing it.
The boy broke from his reverie. "Ah yes, um...quite." His breeding resounded in every syllable like an accent, refined and sophisticated, though not entirely perfected.
Lark made to get up yet again. This time the boy had no intention of stopping her. Awkwardly, she began walking back down the alley, toward the street. She figured that it must have been very early morning by now, and fatigue tingled on her skin, fingers of warmth and desiring, fingers that beckoned her to them. Her mind began to blur, sleep was inevitable. Her body collapsed on the dirt of the road, not but ten feet away from the boy
The boy snapped out of his revere and jumped up, running to where Lark had collapsed. As he turned her over he noticed her arm was bent at a funny angle. Turning her over, he untied her cloak and slid off her jerkin, leaving a black cloth shirt.
He was wide awake now. Well, this isn't going to be fun, he thought to himself. Patting her face lightly, he waited for her to open her eyes. Slowly, she woke from unconsciousness.
"I'm going to have to put your arm back into place," he said, "We can't leave it like that."
As he put his hand against her shoulder blade, her shirt slid down slightly in the back and something caught his eye.
"What is this?"
He got behind her and pulled down the shirt farther. Two long scars ran down each of her shoulders and in between them both was a strange insignia. The tattoo was a circle of red dots surrounding a black cross.
"It ain't anythang," she scoffed as she roughly pulled her shirt up, hiding the scars from view, "now are ya gonna help me or not?"
Grimacing, he put his hand on her shoulder and grabbing her arm, giving a quick jerk. She let out a cry as a crack was heard from her shoulder going back into place.
Her agony was echoing down the alley, causing loud schreeches from nearby forsels and a gurgly grunt from an imp-lantern hanging from a back wall.
The boy looked around, trying to find anything that could be made into a sling for Lark. Nothing. Scraps of wood couldn't hold up a twice broken arm. Nor could the grunting lantern. Finding no alternative, the boy tore a strip of soiled clothe from the hem of his vest, exposing blue-ish bruises above his pantline. He quickly tied a knot in the ends and holstered the tie onto Lark's shoulder. The gruesome sounds of pain drifted to a cease and the wind carried the last notes like a petal on water.
Now not only was the pain in her shoulder searing, but her throat felt like a scratched corkboard. She could barely get out a word, had she even wanted to speak at all.
"We must leave," stated the boy flatly as he heaved her up and supported her against the wall, "I'll be back."
And off he ran behind the corner, disappearing out of sight.
After what seemed like ages to Lark, he returned with a shaggy mare that skittered nervously through the alleyway, pawing at the ground softly. Though it didn't have a saddle, a rope bridle was laced around its neck and a light pack was strapped on it in back. Trying to avoid pain, the boy heaved her up onto the horse's back. He then searched his pack and pulled out some rags and strings of rope. He quickly tied the rags around the mare's hooves and heaved himself up on the horse, sitting behind Lark. He listened for a moment and then said, "Go."
The horse immediately backed out of the alleyway and galloped off to the outskirts of town, making a muffled sound with it's hooves as it gained speed. Lark and the boy clamped the horse with their knees, trying to keep from slipping off.
"I never asked fur yur name," spoke Lark wearily.
"It's Alene."
They traveled for a few more miles and then Alene spoke up again.
"You did something unusual back there. I have seen many forms of magic in my life time, but what you did was peculiar. When magicians call the elements, they are only able to allow it to exist for a time, give or take how much they summoned. But you took the fire and controlled it, bending it to do your will. How is this possible?"
"It be my...gift if ya will," she said hesitantly.
Silence passed between them for a time. Then Alene spoke up and said, "Tell me more about this master of yours."
Lark felt weird about this boy, Alene. It was unusual for a boy of any age to be wandering around the streets at night. And this wasn't just any boy. This was an able-bodied young man, who had already discovered and gained control of his powers. He would have undoubtedly been taken as an apprentice long before now.
Alene spoke, his voice rising to just above the noise of the wind rushing by them. "I guess that you are right."
They rode in silence for a while, Lark trying to keep herself on the horse and Alene guiding the horse. Alene could not help glancing behind him every so often to stare at his oddly dressed riding companion. He had never seen a drekkin before, but if such beings existed, Alene was sure that he was looking at one. Drekkin were not the only ones in the realm that had powers, but the powers that they did have were usually the stuff of legends.
"Are you...I mean...well, are you a drekkin?" Alene asked nervously.
Lark looked at him sharply and then turned away. "No, I ain't, but Garnet was one," she said. The name of this man now sent shivers down Alene's spine. "What did he control?"
"Earth."
Another pause passed by and then, "But if your not a drekkin, then how...".
"Anuther time peraps." she said, "We cannit use this 'orse much longer, it'all leave 'a trail. It'll be' easier if'n you drop me off 'ere."
"No can do," he said, "I'm going with you."
Lark stared at him blankly. "Your not serious..."
"Course I am. You can't travel alone like this."
"Idiot. Do ya want ta get killed?"
"We'll both have a better chance traveling together then alone."
Lark smirked, "I see. I suppose I ain't tha only one running."
"So what if you aren't," Alene said, rather too cooly. That was it. No more was going to come from his mouth. Nothin'-doin'.
Okay. maybe one more thing. "What were you doing in Targnot?"
Lark chose her words carefully. "I were visitin' an ol' friend erf me master's." The last word slid off her tongue as if the taste of it was displeasing. " 'e bid me d'liver sum information, but'en I were delayed by der stupid fairies...Damn those mortals and dair frivolous festivals, I can't believe that..." Her voice began to trail away, her mind having realized that she was saying too much. She tried to regain her posture through her own, rather defensive, questioning.
" Wat were yer doin' yourself in Targnot? You dun look n'thing like the Targnutians, en case yer din't know!"
"We all have our little secrets, don't we?" he replied with a grin, "You can keep yours and I'll keep mine, agreed?"
Lark fumed silently, wanting more answers then he was giving her.
"Stop here."
They were in a dark farmers field that lay to the east of a sprawling, dark forest. Bushels of wheat were already laid off to the on the ground, leaving a dark shadow from where Alene and Lark were.
"We must abandon tha 'orse 'ere," Lark said, "Hopefully it'll leave 'a trail and give us some time."
Alene dismounted and helped Lark off the saddle. Untying the pack, he strode softly up to the horse and whispered something in her ear. Her ears cocked forward and she suddenly continued her gallop in the direction they had been going.
"You did somethang ta that 'orse. What was it?" Lark asked.
"Let us just call that my little secret as well." Shouldering the pack he started off for the woods. Lark followed behind. She was wide awake now and the throbbing had stopped in her arm. She paused for a moment, watching him trail to the woods and then made a sprint after him while whispering something under her breath.
Tolky Wittle dripped of sobriety. He had never been so rudely accosted as to have a pale of water thrown upon himself. The nerve!
His soaking clothes sagged and stuck unflatteringly to his undesirable form as Tolky lifted himself from his chair. This took a little effort on his part, and on the two unfortunate bystanders who were lassoed into assisting him.
The chair creaked gratefully as Tolky finally lifted clear of the seat.
Stumbling out of the doorway, Tolky wobbled unsteadily through the street until he collapsed in yet another set of bins. He was just about to heave himself up when a loud noise reached his ears. Gazing up stupidly he held onto the stone wall as if he was afraid of being lifted off the ground again. After several minutes of laying on his back in a fetal position, Tolky dared to open his eyes. As they did a sight came to him that made him feel as if he wasn't completely sober yet. The girl who he had seen before was carrying fire, or something like that. A shadowy figure seemed to be trying to get at her but to no avail. Suddenly another figure appeared in the night and the red shadow disappeared completely. As the figure lifted the girl and started heading his way, Tolky hid behind three hulking bins that nearly hid all of him. 'If their startin' trouble, I want no' part en it' thought Tolky as the figure began to talk.
Though Tolky could only half hear what the two were saying with all the rubbish in his ears, he heard their conversation and say them as they galloped down the road. Tolky lay there for a good few minutes, whether from fear or his bulk, no one know. Just as he was about to get to his feet an evading shadow fell upon him. Shakily, he looked up and saw the night sky filled with the dark crimson red of a cloak. As the wind bellowed, Tolky let out a scream that was muffled in the starlit sky. Nobody missed the old fat man and his very existence disappeared as a quick shape stalked through the shadows after the tracks of the mare.