by Annie Bellet
* * *
“It is done,” Azyrin told an incredulous Hewgrim. The old man looked as though his splinted leg was the only thing stopping him from grabbing one of us and spinning us around. Maybe all of us. As terrible as his hopelessness had been to witness, his returning joy bolstered even my tired spirit.
The curse had fled with the last of the witch’s lives. Birds sang, insects buzzed, and the town insisted on feasting us with what little they had left to give. Azyrin and Makha convinced them to hold off for a few days.
I spent the first day healing. The potion and the fighting had drained me to true exhaustion and I slept six fitful, dream-soaked hours. A hot bath and a clean set of clothing improved my mood. It took two soaks, half a bar of soap, and finally both Rahiel and Drake attacking my curls with combs to get my hair out of its tangles and no longer stinking of swamp sludge.
Rahiel had found the scroll she needed and turned Drake back into a human. I think only the memory of how ready he was to slay us both back by that cottage kept the pixie-goblin alive, especially with the endless teasing from Makha who had taken to calling him things like “Rosie” and “Bunbun”.
“I can’t believe you turned me into a bunny,” he muttered as we helped clean the redfish a cautiously friendly Deohan and I had netted earlier that morning.
“I apologized. Not only that, but I offered to do your camp chores for a month. Quit whining.”
“A pink bunny,” Drake hissed. “My manly image is damaged forever.”
“Nonsense. You would have to be a man first for that to happen. Besides, what is so wrong with pink? Bill is pink.”
“Exactly! You’re provin’ my point.”
Deohan and I exchanged a glance and I raised my eyebrows to try and tell him not to worry about this. This was normal and good. Splinters damned, it was wonderful.
That night we gathered in the square. Tables had been pulled out of the inn and set up on the newly scrubbed flagstones. Colorful paper lamps burned instead of greasy fires and the smell of death and despair was almost cleansed from the place. There were too many empty seats on the benches and too many scarred faces to hold up a true façade of normalcy, but laughter rang out more than groans and it was a start.
I took a spoonful of the purple rice and brought it to mouth with some trepidation. It smelled a little fishy but when I sucked some off the copper spoon I found the texture creamy and the actual taste almost nutty. It went well with the redfish we’d caught, which Deohan had cooked in a clay pot covered in coals along with pearl onions and white peppercorn.
“Here, here!” Hewgrim banged his spoon against his cup. “Five cheers for our rescuers! Five cheers for the Gryphonpike Companions!”
My friends and I sat still amidst the enthusiastic cheering that seemed to flow around us with tangible strength. Makha and Azyrin held hands and she leaned her head on his broad shoulder. Drake slung one arm around Edan’s shoulder as the initiate banged his own cup on the table. Rahiel fanned her wings and blushed yellow.
My curse won’t let me tally anything or write at all. Not that it matters since I have no way of knowing what counts as a good deed, which action is weighed against my crime and which is not.
But that night, as I stared upward, past the red, blue, green, and gold lanterns on their poles, past the rooftops and up into the starry summer sky, I knew. This day. The fights and injuries to get here. It counted.
Even over the din, as the cheers died down but didn’t quiet die out, I heard a soft roar. Fade, too, was cheering, though he had no desire to come into the square when so many strangers gathered here. And I knew he, too, was staring up at the summer moon as it tinged the starlight purple with its glow. Tonight I was one night closer to home and however many nights it took from here, I was not alone.
* * * * *
Want to read more fantasy by Annie Bellet? Find additional exciting adventures following Killer and her friends.
Also by Annie Bellet:
Gryphonpike Chronicles:
Twice Drowned Dragon
A Stone’s Throw
Under Fountain
Dead of Knight
Gryphonpike Chronicles Volume One: The Barrows
Chwedl Duology:
A Heart in Sun and Shadow
The Raven King
Short Story Collections:
The Spacer’s Blade and Other Stories
Gifts in Sand and Water
River Daughter and Other Stories
Deep Black Beyond
* * *
About the Author:
Annie Bellet lives and writes in the Pacific NW. She is a Clarion graduate and her stories have appeared in magazines such as AlienSkin, Digital Science Fiction, and Daily Science Fiction as well as multiple collections and anthologies. Follow her on her blog at “A Little Imagination”
* * *
Get more great stories at Doomed Muse Press
