Wot just stared at the basket in her hand in greedy incomprehension. She sighed, “Oh, fine.”
She rummaged around the basket until she found a piece of cooked chicken, almost the size of Wot. She tore a chunk from the chicken and lay it down next to Wot, who made little happy humming noises in the back of his throat as he demolished the chicken. Ariana ate a little of the chicken, too, before putting the rest away for later.
Wot seemed satisfied by the food he was given, possibly because he was so thin that it took him no time to fill up. He waddled over to Ariana and crawled back into her skirts. The happy humming noise was lower and quieter as he settled in her lap, his scaly eyelids shut over his beautiful purple eyes. He immediately started heating up and glowing again, quickly warming Ariana and making her drowsy.
Worried he would become hot to the touch and ignite her skirts, she scooted him to the floor of the cave. He immediately protested the move and crawled back onto her skirts. She sighed and bit her lip. How was she going to keep him from cuddling up next to her? Isn’t that what animals did to feel comfortable and safe? She remembered the stray cats in her father’s stables cuddling together, as did his hunting hounds.
She shut her eyes and pictured the tired blue glow of her magic. She pulled at the magic to make strands, like yarn. She and Annabeth would often crochet together when father left for days at a time. It was not something he wanted her to do, as it was considered low class to knit, crochet and weave. However, do it she did, and often, when he was unaware. She’d become very adept at it.
She imagined she held a magical hook and crocheted, with ease, a large rectangle of her magic, which she closed on two sides, creating a little bag. She pushed the idea of protection and heat resistance into her work, not understanding how or why she knew to do so. Her magic seemed so natural, now that she was using as if it were yarn, something she loved to work with.
She opened her eyes when the smell of burning fabric met her nostrils. She shook her head at her ruined dress and the smoldering petticoats Wot was happily snoozing in. She slipped the glowing cyan bag she’d made over her hand, then lifted the hot-to-the-touch Wot. She swatted at her scorched petticoats to kill the glowing embers, then returned her attention to Wot, who didn’t even wake as she slipped the gentle blue folds of the impromptu crocheted bag over him like a little sleeping bag, unrolling it off her hand and onto his body.
She set the bag down on the floor of the cave, settling Wot in his little sack right next to her chest. The glow of the yarn faded, but the cyan of her power stayed. Wot still gave off a hot ember of warmth, but it didn’t burn. The bag held the intensity of his heat at bay. She found she could curl up next to him and take warmth from him, as if he were a hot water bag. And it was a good thing he was so warm since her blanket was a dripping, wet, holey, scorch-mark mess of wool.
Ariana’s sleep was blissfully quiet, unfractured by disturbing dreams. She woke warm and dry, though fairly stiff from unmoving sleep on the marble ground. Wot’s fireball body never burnt through the magical sleeping bag she made for him. She smiled and nudged the sleepy creature with her fingertip. He blinked in a slow, tired way, smoke unfurling from his tiny wolf-muzzle.
“Time to wake up, little guy. I have to figure out what I’m going to do for a living quarters. This cave is nice, but I’m not sure if it’s the safest option, what with all the bats and the possibility that larger animals sometimes rest here in the colder months.”
Wot croaked wearily in response before snuggling down deeper into the bag.
“Well, okay, then, I guess you’re not hungry for breakfast…”
She opened the food basket next to Wot, wafting the tempting smells his way. He stuck his wolfish muzzle out of the bag. The rest of his face followed, including the tiny flaps of his leathery ears. Suddenly wakeful, the silly guy shuffled out of the bag. He snuffled the basket, bumping into it in eagerness to reach the food. He jumped back, startled, and glared at the basket as if it had attacked him.
“You are the silliest creature in existence, Wot,” Ariana laughed. He looked up at her, expectantly, licking his muzzle.
“Ok, ok. Here you are.”
She pulled the rest of the chicken out of her basket, as it would be the first thing to go bad and divided it among them. They chewed on left-over chicken for a few happy minutes before Ariana realized that she was thirsty. She rummaged in her basket to see if Ruth left her anything to drink. The wonderful cook had packed a flask of water for her, but Ariana could tell that it would not be enough. She’d made water come out of her hands just last night, but she wasn’t sure that drinking water that had been magic was a good idea, or even if it would quench. If it came to that, she’d try it, but there had to be a water source in this cave somewhere.
She packed her basket and encouraged Wot back into his little bag. His belly big with chicken, he eagerly snuggled back into his sleeping quarters. Ariana eyed her basket, carpet bag and the little Wot and frowned. She wasn’t sure she trusted her magical bag enough to place it in her carpet bag. She closed her eyes and envisioned knitting a strap. When she had a strap of her magic thread long enough to attach to Wot’s little bag, she knelt down and connected it, sewing it in the same way she imagined knitting it. While she was still inside her magic, she imagined a globe of light, light as a feather and twisted into a woven bracelet. When she opened her eyes, she was wearing the bracelet of light around her wrist.
She slung the surprisingly light-weight creature over her shoulder and nestled him on the opposite side of the arm that bore her bag and basket. She decided to leave her sad wool blanket on the ground of the cave, since it was both charred and wet. Everything settled, she trudged deeper into the cave.
When she got to the fork of the cave that led to the little area Wot was nesting in last night, she took the opposite fork, rather than the short, bat-infested fork she’d already explored. She couldn’t be sure it was the right decision, but she knew that the bat cave ended in a dead-end. The left-hand fork became an increasingly narrow, though tall, tunnel.
Ariana stopped walking when it was clear that she would have to start making her way through the tunnel sideways. She would need both of her hands and sides free in order to squeeze through the gap with her bags. She could see that it widened not far up the tunnel, though, so she figured it was safe to take Wot out of his bag and give him a little exercise.
She placed Wot’s bag on the floor of the cave and coerced the lazy creature out of it with a piece of dried deer meat that Ruth packed for her. He eagerly chewed the meat while she stuffed his little sleeping pouch in the carpet bag. She picked up the basket and the bag in opposite hands, turned sideways and began to slowly shuffle through the tiny tunnel. Wot, looking anxious, stared after her as if she were abandoning him.
“Well, follow me, then, you goofy thing!”
Wot whimpered. His body shifted from side to side nervously, which set his copper claws to clicking against the stone floor of the cave. Ariana continued to slowly squeeze through the narrow tunnel, but motioned to him with her head.
“Come on, before I leave you behind.” She warned him, playfully.
He must have decided that being left behind was scarier than the narrow tunnel because he scrambled along behind her, whimpering and bumping against her ankle to hurry her. When the tunnel widened, she set her basket and bag on the floor and turned to Wot.
“Do you want to get back in your bag or do you want to walk a bit?”
Wot looked up at her, then beyond her, before clicking past her on his tiny scaled legs, his short, fluffy tail flicking behind him, like a curious but anxious cat. She adjusted her bags and followed behind him. The tunnel continued on, narrowing slightly, then widening for some time before finally narrowing again, so that Ariana and the bags could barely squeeze through. She struggled through the tunnel, yanking at her carpet bag at a particularly thin gap, when the carpet bag came loose and she stumbled backwards into a huge chamber full of glist
ening, dripping stalactites, and reaching, marbled stalagmites.
She stared around at the beautiful, dripping cave in stunned wonder at the way her bracelet light sparkled off the gem-like stones in the walls and the water dripping from the stalactite, before realizing that there was one thing she could not see in the cave.
“Wot! Where are you, boy?”
Her heart hammered and her pulse quickened. She strained her ears to hear the sound of the silly creature’s claws against the hard floors of the cave. Nothing!
“Wot,” She called more insistently, her voice rising in panic. It didn’t matter that she’d only known the silly thing for a night and part of the day. It was as though she felt immediately connected to the strange beasty in a way she’d never felt connected to the people in her home. She walked further into the cave, holding up and her light and peering frantically around her. She saw a pool of water so clear she could see the details of every rock wall inside the pool as though there were no water settled over the surface. She saw a stalactite so old it had merged, drip by drip, with the stalagmite under it, creating a beautiful solid, glistening column. She could see white, gold and steely flecks of beautiful stones shine back at her as she moved her light in an arc around her.
But she could not see Wot. She lowered her light in frustration, tears tightening her throat. She couldn’t have vocalized why the short time with the animal meant what it did, but she felt, deep down, that she and Wot belonged together. She couldn’t just lose him! She couldn’t give up.
Just then, when she lowered her light, she saw it. To the right of the pool of clear water in the middle of the small chamber--a faint, yellowish glow. She quieted her breathing and tried to still her frantically pumping heart and she could hear it--the sound of copper claws clicking against stone.
She wove through stalactites and stalagmites, catching her carpet bag on one and causing the pocket to tear a bit. But she hurried after the glowing light of her new friend, not stopping to check for damages. She squeezed through a narrow tunnel, keeping her eyes on the dim glow of Wot’s light, ducking her head as it got shorter. Eventually, the tunnel became so low she had to push her bag and basket ahead of her while she crawled through, temporarily losing sight of Wot’s light. Her light glowed steadily at her wrist, but she still felt fear settle on her shoulders as she pushed her skinny but tall frame through the claustrophobic space.
Finally, however, she felt her bags give. Suddenly, she was blinded by a brilliant burst of light coming from a source other than her woven bracelet. She lifted her eyes, expecting to meet with Wot’s glowing form, but was astonished to find herself on the precipice of a great lake. Her bags teetered on a rocky ledge inches away from the clear, sparkling surface.
She pulled them back and stared in astonishment. The phosphorescent sparkling lake was astonishing in its own right, but, floating just above its crystal surface was a ship. Even more surprisingly, Wot sat at the front of the ship. What Ariana’s thought was properly called the prow. His glow was dimmed by that of the lake, but he happily snuffled the air and flapped his tiny wings when he saw Ariana.
Ariana’s heart soared. Again, that little puzzle piece “click” fell back into place the moment she was in view of Wot. She had a million questions and no one to ask them to, so she settled for a flabbergasted, “Wot! How could you run from me like that? And how did you get on that ship?”
Because, from what she could see, the ship was untethered from the rocky outcrops surrounding the lake. Wot simply wagged his short tail at her and stared at her expectantly.
“He flew, of course. His kind can do so when young, though they are lazy beings and never miss the chance to be carried.” The voice that answered her was high in a strange way, as though the speaker actually spoke in a naturally low tone, but was either small or speaking from a great distance away.
She immediately stood on the precipice of the rocky ledge and peered around her. Her knees shook and her power surged inside her. She wasn’t sure what she expected to find in the cave, but another person was not what she had in mind.
“Yoo-hoo! Over here, My Lady. Crow’s Nest.”
Ariana wracked her brain for what those words could mean. Hadn’t Ruthie read her some sort of pirate romance nonsense to her before? In that book the Crow’s Nest had been a platform from which pirates could stand and get a good vantage. She looked up the mast of the ship until her eyes fell upon something that resembled an over-large bucket. And perched on the edge of that bucket was…
“A gnome,” Ariana mused aloud, awestruck.
“Excuse me! Who are you calling gnome? If you weren’t who you are, those would be fighting words.”
The little man looked highly affronted, gesturing to his body, which was covered in a loose, somewhat ragged tunic and brown leggings. He was flexing once hidden, black wings in an irritated-looking way.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m not from here. My mistake, er...uh...” Ariana struggled to call the man something inoffensive, but simply fell off.
“Actually, you do come from around here, or at least somewhat close to here. This forest is home to many of your people, and this cave is an intermediary between worlds, though you’re not to be faulted for not knowing that, since you never got that chance to take it, I s’pose.” He scratched his curly brown and grey hair and put his hands to his hips.
“I guess I’ll have to take it slow with you. I sorta figured you’d know something about all this, but it’s clear from the look you’re giving me that you don’t.”
Ariana closed her gaping mouth before asking, “Who are you?”
“Forgive me, you caught me off guard. I thought my Queen’s consort would have explained…”
Ariana frowned. “Consort?”
The short, chubby man loosened his red ascot in apparent discomfort, his already red cheeks reddening further. “That is to say, your father, Lady.” He laughed in discomfort.
Ariana bit her lip in consternation. “My father never mentioned my mother until this day, and he never told me who she was.”
The little man’s bushy eyebrows knit in apparent anger, though with who, she couldn’t be sure. Hopefully her father. She didn’t want the little man more upset with her than he already was. He had Wot on his ship. The silly little traitor was rubbing his head against the strange man’s leg.
“Well, then. My name is Nimby, servant of the one who carries the magic of Pieramu, the Queen of the Pieramu Pixies. Senior Marauder Pixie to the Queen herself.” He stood straighter as he proclaimed this, as if his very pride was tied with this Queen, whoever she was. Then he bowed low to Ariana, “Please come aboard, Lady. Your mother sent me to bring you home.”
The color drained from Ariana’s face. “You know my mother? She knows where I am?”
“Please, come aboard. I can explain all on the way.” Nimby bowed low again, which seemed strange. At first, he treated her like an idiot, then, seeming to remember himself, he almost groveled.
“I don’t know how to get aboard,” Ariana replied.
Nimby sighed in exasperation, “Why not use your wings?”
Ariana stared at him for a moment, even checking her back to be sure she hadn’t sprouted wings overnight. Her back was wing-free. “I don’t have wings.”
Nimby, already flustered by this point, looked downright mutinous upon hearing this. “No wings?! Shivara save me! The heir apparent to the Pieramu throne, and she hasn’t even got wings!”
“The what?!” Ariana cried, not believing her ears. “You must be mistaken, sir. I am not a pixie, nor am I an heir. Ruthie thought maybe I was fae or fairy, but…”
“Fairy?! Fae?! Oh, Shivara, close your eyes and ears to this,” Nimby shouted, clearly at the end of his rope.
Ariana felt the power surge inside her before she even knew she was upset, though she’d never felt more confused or misunderstood in her life. Without even thinking about it, she raised her hand and pointed a finger at the rocky ledge where her bags were.
The ledge rumbled, shook then grew into a bridge, which ended just at the edge of the ship.
Ariana pointed at her bag and basket with a huff and angrily gestured to the ship. The bag and basket flew at the ship, shooting so close to the old pixie’s curly head that he screamed and ducked. They settled onto the deck next to Wot, who hung his black tongue out of his muzzle and stared after the food basket.
She stomped across the bridge, which trembled under her rage and fell with a splash into the still, clear waters behind her steps. The last of the bridge held her until she jumped onto the deck of the floating ship, thrusting her hands on her hips in frustration.
“Listen here, Nooby! I’ve spent the last two days being abandoned by a father who treated me like a prisoner in his house for thirteen years before his clumsy handling of me almost had me married to a disgusting, evil, old man. Until I finally stuck up for myself and scared the old codger so bad with this infernal magic that my father kicked me out of the house with only a piece of parchment he thought might help me. I’m tired. I’m hungry. I’ve been scared since I can remember. And I’m sick of people not telling me things. So get to it, and get to it fast before I lose my temper!”
Ariana hadn’t realized that she’d raised her voice until her anger echoed off the sides of the cave and Nimby threw himself to the deck of the ship.
“Forgive me, Highness! You are surely Princess of the Pieramu people. Forgive my impertinence, Princess.” The short, chubby pixie was now irritatingly prostrating himself against the ship’s deck, averting his eyes.
It wasn’t until she looked at her own body that she realized that she was shining a brilliant, blinding blue light. She took a deep breath and imagined the light that shone from her returning inside her with each inhale. She opened her eyes to find that the pixie had stopped averting his eyes and that her skin had returned to its normal pale hue. However, the marauder still lay flat against the deck.
Magic Underground: The Complete Collection (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 4) Page 87
