Disclaimer: DreamWorks owns RotG, not me.
Jack had left Burgess just as the sun's rays were beginning to touch the town, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he left the group behind, certain that he was safe from them and whatever they had planned to do to him.
The snowfall from a few nights before had melted a bit, but had re-frozen so the top of the snow was icy and crunched underfoot as he walked. Jack headed east from Burgess, towards the small town of Aeth. It was one of the few he would pass through today, and he would end up spending the night in Sebrub, halfway to Grusiri, his destination. He grinned, a bounce in his step as he entertained the idea that he might get back sooner than planned. It wasn't likely, but if he could find a cauldron witch the night of arrival he might be able to leave the day after, and not need to spend the extra time in Grusiri (which he was sure was a very nice city, but he didn't want to be there longer than he had too).
The journey was pleasant for the majority of the day; Jack had eaten lunch in the second town he passed through, just after noon. After that town, he began to feel uneasy, like he was being followed. He whirled around often, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever- or whatever- might be tailing him, but he saw neither hide nor hair of anything (unless you count that squirrel that scampered up a tree or that swarm of small birds that had zipped by him quickly, chittering all the while. Jack didn't count those as suspicious). He was ridiculously jumpy by the time he reached Sebrub at dark, the only place he had been so far with more than one inn.
Jack was so eager to get inside and away from the feeling of eyes on his back that he accidently entered a small shop first. This turned out to be a good thing, for the shop owner (a portly man with red hair, a beard, and a love of hiding treasure) informed him that the April Inn was the cheaper inn, though one of the younger boys who lived at the inn played pranks on a lot of people, so he had to be careful of that. Thankful, Jack bought one of the man's wares (some sort of bottle that promised rainbows in sunlight?) and left for the April Inn.
Jack could tell immediately that the store owner was right about the inn. It was fairly cheap (cheaper still since Jack often ran a front counter and knew how to haggle over room prices) to get a small room for one, but he almost tripped over a small boy on his way upstairs. Jack could have sworn he heard the boy say, "Aww, he didn't fall." as he walked away.
Jack lit the gas lamp in his room (number 5?) and began to ward off any possible pranks right away. Being a Master Trickster himself, Jack knew what to look for. The window locked from the outside, so Jack jammed it shut; nobody was getting in that way. He pressed the walls; although it didn't seem likely, there could be some sort of passageway (thankfully there weren't). The only other 'interesting' feature in the room was a trapdoor concealed under the bed, which Jack moved one of the bedposts on top of. Thankfully there was a latch on the door that prevented people outside getting in, even if they had a key.
Eating the last of the apples and bread (darn, now he would have to buy more food) Jack opened the book he had brought. He couldn't read the title, and he didn't have hope for the rest of the book, but he wanted to try anyway. Flipping through the pages, he grew increasingly frustrated with the words that were almost readable, like the letters had been warped with water. An oddly green-tinged paper slipped out from between two of the pages. Handwriting covered it in the same unreadable script as the book. Though neat, the writing was obviously scribbled quickly, and Jack tried in vain to read it. To his surprise, one word at the top of the page was legible. Jack's blood ran cold at the sight of the clear term, and he wondered offhandedly why this was the one word that was in Amadkian script.
Frost.
It had been a small class, but there were only a few of his age in Burgess. The war had taken adults and children alike, and the rebuilding had just been finished. Magical damage normally took longer to fix than regular defacing.
He remembered how the first of the classes were free, lessons the adults thought everyone should be taught in wake of the war. The class about non-human beings.
There was Seth; a little boy with blond hair cropped close to his head who felt he had learned all there was to know from his parents and older brother. Thomas and Olivia; the pale, brown haired twins that looked nothing alike aside from their hair (He remembered they had moved away a couple years later). Adam, a black-haired boy with dark skin and a never-give-up attitude. Mary, a tanned girl who refused to cut her black hair, was tall for her age, and liked to talk a lot. Molly; a bubbly five-year-old who was excited to hear more stories about magic and liked her brown hair cut short, but not too short. And himself; the second youngest (almost six) who was cautious around people he was unfamiliar with.
The classes had started out well enough. The twins' mother taught this class, using the letters her husband (who had died in the war) had sent her as reference. She didn't try to scare the children; on the contrary, she told the lessons as stories, and omitted all the worst details. The first class had been a simple fairy tale of humans versus fey, with fey as the 'bad guys' and humans as the 'good guys', the winners. It was like the games the children sometimes played, one side always winning and the other always losing.
As he grew up, the stories became more detailed. Non-humans weren't simply presented as 'bad', but the kids were told of the terrible things that they did. Eventually, the twins and their mother moved away from Burgess, and there was a new person who taught the class that spread awareness about magic. He was called Mr. P, and he was tall, with black hair that was slicked back and had eyes that seemed to know your darkest secrets. He was in Burgess for only a week, but that was enough time for all the children in his lessons (even the older ones) to mysteriously become 'sick'.
He spoke of terrifying tales that he claimed had actually happened. Leprechauns that gave people cursed gold, dwarves with impenetrable armor that fought until their enemies were dust, goblins that tore into flesh with wicked claws, and centaurs that trampled people like wild barbarians.
The worst stories had been the ones about the fey-people. Tiny pixies that pulled at people's ears, noses, toes, and fingers until they fell off and the people were found with blood pouring out their eyes sockets, for the pixies collected the eyeballs off your newly dead body. Tall and alluring elves that tricked people into confinement and made humans labor for them. Deceivingly cute fairies who cried for help and ravaged the house of the human who had taken pity on them. Flocks of fey that hunted for blood, and often killed any who got in their way; humans, vampires, and even other fey. They would get drunk and rip humans apart in front of their families, then coat the onlookers in the blood of the dead human before tearing them apart too.
Mr. P. always looked right at him when he told these stories.
Fey children are very weak, they were told. They are unable to glamour themselves for safety, are more vulnerable to iron, and often give themselves away by screaming in their own strange language. Fey children are abandoned the moment they are able to perform magic themselves, usually around eight or nine years old. Always kill a fey child, Mr. P. had told them, eerie golden eyes gleaming maliciously.
When he left, there were no lessons for two weeks afterwards, but his teachings left a lasting impact on the children. During play-time they whispered of nightmares and checked over their shoulders for the creatures they swore were ready to get them.
He never shared his nightmares. Much like the others', there was an assortment of creatures that attacked the humans, often turning in on themselves and attacking everything. He didn't share his nightmares though, because he was fighting the people, he was one of the strange creatures that fought so viciously. That was terrifying.
He remembered the teachings about non-humans becoming less violent, less prejudiced against them and more informative after that. It didn't matter; the scar of the previous lessons was one he still carried.
When they were eight those particular lessons stopped, there were more important things to learn and the children didn't need fairy tales as a distraction. He had been the most pleased to see those classes gone, Seth and Adam agreeing with him whole-heartedly. The girls were more upset, Mary had recited the lesson on gnomes in farewell to the classes and Molly had come up with the idea to write down everything they knew in a book, which the two had worked on tirelessly until completion.
They were nine when they completely stopped being taught about the non-human creatures (the lessons might be gone but their parents had a few more things to say), and they rarely heard about them again aside from the occasional remark and gleeful exclamations from younger siblings (if they had any). He had had different sorts of dreams then, ones that made him restless, bouncing off the walls with energy (Mr. P.'s stories tried to creep into his mind then, had tried to remind him of something, but he was impatient and decided not to care).
He remembered when he had been told of Secrets Most Important at age ten. It had been the same year that Mr. Overland had run off, and he had been told it was a seed of madness planted in his mind by fey that had driven him to do so, and that Mr. Overland was probably dead. He'd hid behind Mrs. Overland's skirts for weeks after that, afraid of everyone.
He remembered learning the signs of certain people who pursued the last remains of fey in hopes that the species could be decimated forever. He remembered always the wickedness of the fey, their foul deeds and immoral ways.
And he remembered wondering what that made him.
Jack gasped awake, early morning sunlight streaming in through the jammed window. Somehow, that had been the worst of the nightmares. He moved quickly, wanting to purchase some more food for the rest of the journey and leave this town quickly. After dressing himself in the clean clothes, he gathered the items he had brought and put them back in the bag. He hesitated over the old book, with its odd language, and slipped the green paper back between its pages.
He remembered the shop owner's advice just before opening the door, and Jack braced himself just in case something was to happen. Despite preparing himself, he jumped when he saw the little boy who'd tried to trip him the night before standing just outside the room.
"You jammed the window," he said, pouting.
"Yes," Jack agreed, carefully schooling his features into a blank expression. "I blocked the trapdoor too." If there was one thing Jack knew, it was how to spot someone who was ready to misbehave (and how to cause trouble himself, but that was beside the point), and this little boy, with his red hair and brown eyes glittering with mischief, had many plans to do just that. But Jack had thwarted him once and he could do so again, easily.
The boy's face erupted into a smile. "Good job. Nobody's noticed before." He held out his hand for a hand shake. Jack evaded him and ruffled the boy's hair instead.
"Hey kid, what's your name?" Jack asked as he moved down the short hallway to leave the inn.
The boy scrambled to keep up; looking put-out that Jack hadn't fallen for his trap. "Pranks." He grinned, certain that that would confound the older boy.
Jack, however, had a response ready. "Nice. Met somebody else with that name a few towns over." He hadn't, but the boy, 'Pranks', didn't need to know that. "My name's 'Not-Telling'." And with that parting remark, Jack stepped out of the inn, smirking at the shocked look on Pranks' face.
Don't fight fire with fire, people said, but Jack knew to fight pranks with pranks.
…
The last day of travel to Grusiri was uneventful, but the nagging feeling began following him only an hour after leaving the town he'd stayed in. Jack often darted behind trees and waited for the sound of footsteps, wanting to confront this being, but there never were any. After doing it a few times, it occurred to Jack it meant that whatever was following him was close enough to see him. He felt better once he was out of the forests, and traveling a path through open, snowy fields. He tried to catch a glimpse of his pursuer, but even then he saw no one.
Once, he had spun around suddenly, demanding anyone who might be listening to show themselves. There had been an answering gust of wind, but no people. Jack hated the implications of that. Either whatever was following him wasn't human, or it was a person with bad intentions. Jack traveled more carefully after that realization.
He made good time getting to Grusiri, a few hours before nightfall. This was partly because he did the majority of his trip the day before, and also because an older farmer with a horse-drawn cart full of goods had offered him a ride. Talking with the kind man had helped to ease his worries, but they had returned the second he and the farmer parted ways, for he could feel the eyes at his back once more.
Jack plunged into the city (larger than any he had ever seen) with the intent of losing those who were following him.
A/N: Sorry for how odd the ending is, I'm a bit sick at the moment so it seems off. Oh well. Also I apologize for the longer wait, but today seemed a good day to update. In my family we sometimes give gifts on our birthdays to show how much we appreciate the people around us for being there, so this is my gift to you all.
WinterCrystal1009: Kidnap him? I have noooo idea what you're talking about.
thisiscorinth: Well here's another one!
KorrieChan: Thanks!
ROTGFANGIRL: WELL I'VE WRITTEN MORE. You okay over there?
Mikalya elwood: Actually yes! I check your page every now and then to see if it's up. Hmm... well we've established I'm pretty evil, so no spoilers! ;)
Aekidna: It's not stupid at all to not read something based on bad feelings tied in with the title, and thanks for clicking on this story anyway.
I really want to thank everyone who's favorited, followed, or reviewed for your support. It really means a lot to me.
Until next time!