Live and Let Lie

by F. A. Bentley

  The promise of freezing to death even if I survive was just whipped cream on top of the terror pie. Get a grip dammit.

  “There!” Zophie called out.

  Flinging a carefully crafted ball of wavy force, the large soap balloon-like bolt of anti magic struck the bark of a thin tree and splashed around the sides. A cry of dismay set my heart pumping.

  A tiny brown figure maybe two feet tall fell to the ground, before scrambling to it’s feet. Its arms futilely rose to cast some spell. Invisibility? Teleportation? Whatever it was, it didn’t work. It fled.

  Quickly dashing after our interviewee, I caught up with the awkward bundle of grassy clothes and tall ears before it could get too far.

  Finally in my grip, it yelped and shrieked without end. Like a two year old getting their first needle at the doctor.

  “Stop screaming, we’re not going to hurt you, we just want to talk,” I said.

  It didn’t listen. As Zophie and Popov caught up to me the Fairy’s screaming reached a fever pitch.

  “I will murder you in cold blood if you keep screaming!” I shouted.

  I caught Zophie’s glance. A nod passed between us.

  Good cop bad cop.

  “Don’t worry little guy, I won’t let him hurt you. Here,” Zophie said in a surprisingly motherly tone. “You dropped your hat.”

  The small leather cap was returned to the big eared Fairy. Or perhaps it was more of a goblin? It was about the size of a kindergartner but its face looked old.

  “Please let go. Will chop firewood for you if you spare me,” it spoke in a tiny voice.

  That’s some antique begging.

  “We don’t need firewood chopped. But we do need answers. Come over here little guy,” Zophie said resting her hands on it reassuringly.

  It made me wonder how many Supernaturals she’d slaughtered in her career.

  “Answers? To questions?” the Fairy asked.

  “Yes. Do you know someone called Nikita Gogol? He used to live in Shuycha.”

  The Fairy paled. It clasped its hands close to its chest in reverence. “The Familiar Lord.”

  “You know him?” I blurted out.

  The Fairy flinched but nodded an affirmative. “The Familiar Lord always spent time among us. Even the unhappy spirits. We loved him as he loved us but…”

  “But?” Zophie asked.

  “But he left to wander the world of Men. To help us and Human things too. They say he is returned now to save us. Is it true?”

  Despite being Human the Lord Illusionist seemed to have spent an unnaturally large amount of time among the Fairies. They saw him as a great hope. A ‘familiar’ Lord. Why? How?

  Zophie shot me a sly glance before smiling at the Fairy. “We heard the same thing. Do you know where he is? We want to help him.”

  “No one knows where the Familiar Lord walks,” the Fairy whispered, full of awe. “He is where he wishes to be, and is always--”

  “One more question before we let you go,” I said crouching down beside the Fairy.

  “What?” it asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

  “How did Nikita Gogol get so chummy with the Fairies of Shuycha anyways?”

  The little Fairy looked around to each of us incredulously.

  “How? We found him half dead in the woods. Took pity on him. Restored him. Raised him. We and the little girl that would bring him feed.”

  Chapter 33

  That certainly explained it. Nikita Gogol was such a staunch supporter of the Russian Supernaturals because they saved his life. Treated him like family. Anyone would feel loyalty after something like that.

  “You’re free to go,” I said, and released the Fairy.

  It stumbled off a distance. Looked over its shoulder, then continued its headlong retreat past twigs and underbrush.

  “It makes a lot of sense,” Popov said. “However, that doesn’t help us much.”

  “Knowing about the Lord Illusionist’s motivations is one thing, but I can’t think of any practical application for this info. You’re right. We’re at another stumbling block,” I said.

  No matter how I thought about it or how I considered the Lord Illusionist’s connection to the Supernaturals of Russia, it all pointed to a plethora of dead ends. Even the two halves of the story I heard didn’t perfectly fit together. As I stared at my shoes in the thick Russian snow, I felt the paranoia prick at my consciousness again.

  Large roots grew over my foot wear, restraining and slowing me down. I shook my head. I can’t let this all get to me. And these symbolic hallucinations need to go to Hell.

  “Charles!” Zophie called out.

  “Not now, I’m think--”

  Cold raspy bark gripped my ankles, holding me in place. My eyes widened as a branch crashed against my shoulders, flattening me.

  Not a hallucination. The roots and the branches were really attacking.

  “Shit, Zophie, Popov get behind me, we need to get out of here.”

  “No escape,” spoke a deep booming voice. “No hope! By my office and my master you shall not make it out of my forest alive, zloumyshlenniki.”

  Zuh loomish lenny key?

  I turned to Popov in time to see a dark grimace settle on his wrinkly face.

  “Thundering voice. Mastery of the woods. Hear him but can’t see him,” the priest spoke. “A Leshy.”

  As if to confirm the old man’s words, the snow at my feet erupted in spear like roots. Roaring in defiance, I flung myself to the side, snow crunching on my back as I rolled back to my feet, wand drawn.

  An ambush. Of course the Lord Illusionist would have his home town well guarded. I was so busy worrying about impossibilities that the very real threats had completely snuck up on me. A feminine cry reached my ears. I turned my eyes to see Zophie wrestling with a massive root wrapping around her neck.

  “It’s not working. It’s not magic that’s making the roots and branches move,” she called out.

  I reached her in an instant and severed the root, leaving Zophie to gasp for breath in peace.

  “Popov?” I called out.

  Surprisingly, he was better off than Zophie. His crucifix was holding the vines off admirably. Did they fear it? No. It couldn’t be.

  “Cold iron,” Popov said. “They’re weak enough to fear it.”

  Cold iron crucifix. The priest was no amateur at this. A ray of hope. My mind raced, somersaulting over hurdles of paranoia and impending doom. I could only think of one way out of all this. And one of us wasn’t going to enjoy it.

  “Popov, take Nuhl and get back to the car--”

  Just as the words left my mouth, the snow at my feet exploded in a shower of snowflakes. My pants were shredded up to the knees, and lacerating cuts wound up them. Thorny vines now too?

  I finally regained my sense at the bottom of a hill, dizzy and disoriented. The roots seemed to notice my survival. The trees murmured in disapproval as I felt the forest focus on me. It seemed I was priority number one.

  “Good.”

  Once a scapegoat always a scapegoat, isn’t that right, Charles?

  I sucked in a deep breath, ignored the blood dripping down my legs, and took off into the woods as fast as my legs would take me.

  Catch me if you can.

  Chapter 34

  It was times like these that I thanked my unlucky stars I had quick reflexes. The forest around me had turned into an obstacle course of needling twigs, swinging branches and crinkling bark.

  The golden eyes of snow white owls watched me in mute curiosity. Their necks craning to better watch my headlong rush through the glades.

  The footing was the worst of it. A single misstep and I’d find myself reintroduced to the calf high snow. I didn’t have time for this. What was I even hoping to accomplish? Stall long enough and then die miserably? I had to find an out, but what?

  “I suppose I should welcome you,” a voice suddenly spoke. “Even though you weren’t exactly invited.”

  The blood in my ve
ins froze, my hands balled into fists as I pushed myself up from the snow. I remembered that voice well. From the cell video.

  “Nikita Gogol. Your HR department is pretty impressive,” I said, “I take it the Leshy is another Familiar of yours?”

  I turned to see a cloaked form walk out from behind a particularly stout trunk. Archmagister’s robes glinted in the afternoon light. A gnarled hand stroked a long white beard that reached well past his feet.

  “Lie down and die like a good lad. You’re beaten,” he said.

  “Sorry, whenever I meet a smug geezer like you I just can’t help but want to be as annoyingly tenacious as possible,” I retorted. “Even your Leshy seems spooked by me.”

  “He’s just shy. Despite his size. And don’t bother trying to make a mad dash to kill me, you’ll find I’ve been playing the ‘annoyingly tenacious’ game for a lot longer than a throwaway pawn like you.”

  I cursed beneath my breath. He read my mind and predicted my actions perfectly. Rising up from the snow, I let my hands hang limply at my sides. “No way you’d risk yourself in person. I must be talking to an illusion.”

  “I didn’t get a title like Lord Illusionist by showing up to too many places in person. I just wanted to size you up. You have almost no magical talent and yet I think underestimating you is a poor idea,” he said, “Perhaps if you can somehow continue ruffling my feathers I’ll take the threat you pose more seriously.”

  “No amount of smoke and mirrors will be enough to kill me,” I said.

  “Of course not. That’s why I have friends to get violent for me. Leshy, I’ll thank you to put him out of his misery. Goodbye, assassin.”

  A cold wind blew a curtain of snow around the trees. In an instant the Lord Illusionist was gone. In his place stood a giant.

  Tree limbs had to bend and curve to allow the Leshy proper passage, his head reached the highest branches even slouched as he was. Beard made of moss. Fingers made of vines. He towered before me, brandishing a massive woodsman’s ax.

  “It can’t be helped, zloumyshlenniki, the Familiar Lord has given me strict instruction. No nonsense. No toying,” the Leshy spoke.

  Biting wind washed over the back of my neck as I willed my wand-sword to life. The Leshy had home field advantage and he knew it. His lumbering gait and great size made his sudden lunge for me all the more surprising. I barely had time to react. A tidal wave of snow blasted out of the spot I was standing in moments ago as the lumberjack ax nearly chopped me in half.

  Heavy breathing. Sweat and snow mixed uncomfortably on my back. As I landed, blade of hard arcana glinting from the tip of my wand, I saw felt vines coil around my legs in a deadly embrace. The Leshy turned and swung its ax along in a wide swing.

  My heart skipping a beat as I jumped despite the roots. Eyes widening, I realized the roots made no attempt to stop me as I ducked beneath another swing.

  I cursed harshly. The vines are hallucinations this time. Damn Lis to Hell. The Leshy’s attacks were crystal clear, but my vivid imagination couldn’t help but picture enemies and obstacles where there were none. A dozen deathblows eagerly suggested themselves to me with every slash stomp and bash that lumbering forest spirit threw at me.

  Two fold home field advantage. I needed to turn the tables, and I knew just how to stall.

  As the Leshy brought his ax up, I rolled between his legs and swung my wand-sword across his heels. The vines doubling as his hamstrings snapped. The second he fell to a knee, I bolted.

  Too many things working against me. My wand sword wasn’t built to cut down trees, it was a finesse weapon dammit. For poking holes in fleshy bags full of blood.

  I ducked beneath a leaning trees, scrambling for my back pocket. I felt my hand close around a key chain. Just the good luck charm I need.

  “Cho forest trying to kill me. Weaknesses.”

  Cho the ghostly lantern took his damn time yawning before casting a lazy glance around.

  “If it’s not water, it’s snow,” he muttered.

  “What better place to overcome your fear of getting snuffed out. Weaknesses now Cho, or else we’re both dead.”

  “Hum,” Cho replied thoughtfully. “Weakness: Fire, hefty cutting tools like axes--”

  “Fresh out. Tell me something useful just this once,”

  “I resent that Master Locke.”

  “Resent me when we’re dead.”

  “Wood can be split easy in cold weather. At least beneath the bark. Can’t think of anything else.”

  “Just need to find a wedge and then convince the Leshy to sit on it.”

  I jammed the keychain back into my pocket. Trees smirked as I rushed past them. Their creaking whispered my location to their master. I could feel him catching up. As I jumped over a fallen trunk, I dug my heels into the snow and came to a halt.

  The visions stopped. My mind focused to a razor’s edge.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” Lis said.

  Chapter 35

  For once I was thankful my Infernal Adversary had manifested. Partly because I was near my wit’s end with desperation and partly because by slowing down to notice her, I also noticed that I had reached the end of the road, so to speak.

  Lis was sitting on a fallen tree, precariously balanced on the edge of a dead fall into the forest far below. She playfully kicked her booted feet over the cliff top, taking in the view as the wind blew her black hair.

  “I don’t suppose I can convince you to help me,” I said, cautiously glancing over my shoulder into the rumbling woods.

  “What makes you think I’m not another delusion brought on by industrial grade paranoia?” she asked.

  “Because I refuse to believe my mind can produce a sufficiently sadistic replica of you.”

  Lis grinned wickedly. “You always know just how to tug at my heart strings.”

  “Look. None of that matters anymore. It’s over. I’m dead,” I blurted out. “I can’t think of anything. Rather, I can’t think of anything except the various and creative means by which I could be killed at any moment. I’ve got nothing.”

  Molten yellow eyes peered back at me, “What are you talking about? This is probably the best place to take that big stump of a Fairy on given the circumstances.”

  “What?”

  “Well, I mean, it’s a Leshy right? A forest spirit of the highest order. Has all the advantages in the world inside his woods, but here on this cliff’s edge? What’s a king outside his kingdom?”

  My eyes widened in recognition. I licked my parched lips and brandished my wand. The crack of dry twigs caught my attention, I took a few tentative steps onto the fallen tree and kept myself low and balanced.

  “Stay behind me Lis,”

  “My hero,” she replied.

  When I turned around, the Leshy was already at the forest’s edge. He scowled at me, his root feet firmly planted on the cliff. Terrifying how stealthy a bruiser that big could be.

  “Come fight like a man,” the Leshy demanded. He was smaller than I remembered.

  “I was just about to say the same to you,” I spat back. “Tree tricks and roots? Can’t swing worth a damn so you rely on foliage to tie me down. Very sporting.”

  “I’m not used to swatting flies. Seems I won’t need to though,” he replied, and with a grunt took his first swing at the fallen tree.

  My feet wobbled. The tree trunk shuddered. It was a long way down.

  I don’t think the trunk could take another hit. I had to act fast. Seeing the next swing coming I stepped into the blow and swung my sword upwards. The ax head flew through the air, cut off from the grip. As the Fairy processed what just happened, I flung myself between its legs, and grasped the severed ax head. The Leshy roared and swung a backhand to send me plummeting off the edge. Ducking beneath the blow at the last second, I raised the ax high and brought it down.

  There was a small thunk sound. The ax found its mark in the Leshy’s head, stuck into what passed for the giant’s forehead. The massive Fairy stu
mbled forward awkwardly, nearly knocking me over the edge. He fell face first onto the cliff edge in a desperate attempt to get closer to his forest.

  The Fairy didn’t move again from where it fell. Deadwood.

  “Wow Charlie. That was a lucky hit if I ever saw one,” Lis said.

  “Please let me enjoy my victory in silence.”

  “Reminds me of this one saying I heard in Greece a couple forevers ago,” Lis carried right on. “How did it go again?”

  The crack of splitting wood and shattering ice reached my ears. My heart froze.

  “I think it went something like,” Lis said. “Count no man lucky until he is dead.”

  A loud snap echoed past the cliff side. The trunk was breaking. My instincts went into overdrive. I grabbed Lis by the shoulders and threw her like a bag of sand onto the safety of the cliff. A split second later the trunk gave.

  I probably could have saved myself instead, but I was operating on autopilot by that point. Didn’t even consider saving her. Especially not her. It just sort of happened. Instinct got me this far, so it’s only fair that instinct would be partly responsible for my death.

  Didn’t feel a thing when the ground rushed up to meet me.

  Chapter 36

  It was the eyes that always stood out for me the most. My vision swam, a sea of dizziness ebbed around me, but between bouts of half-consciousness I’d always see those two blazing orbs high above me. Always staring. Always watching me.

  Disjointed words echoed in my ears.

  ...Don’t care who you think you are. The boy needs… which mage did you say you worked…

  Lisistrathiel. The eyes belonged to her. And she only stared at me like that whenever she thought I was too beat up to notice. It was easy for me to figure out my own state of health by whether or not she was watching.

  ...Unlucky you then. If you think you can circle around him like a… try your luck, Devil.