by Logan Knight
One at a time, each of the sprites returned to their original forms as Silverwind stroked his tiny chin.
“The prison is a constant threat to my people and a source of power for the Xorians,” the sprite said. “We will join you in battle, mage. We will help you defeat the warden, but it is not he who is tracking you.”
“What?” Alena asked. “Of course it’s the warden. He’s a mage!”
“He is,” Silverwind agreed, “but he is not the source of the power.”
“Then what is the source?” I asked.
“A creature—captured and locked in the prison,” Silverwind said as he buzzed toward me. He hovered in front of my face for several seconds before he spoke again. “The warden must die, but he is not the source of the power.”
“The golden box,” I said. “The one the guard jabbed the dagger into after stabbing us.”
“Yes,” he said. “Find the creature, and you will truly be free. But I will only join you if the warden dies first.”
“Agreed,” I said.
7
We decided to stay the night rather than risk sneaking out into the darkness to assault the Black Citadel. The prison guards could track us by using the power of an imprisoned creature. If we ventured out during the night, we’d be at a serious disadvantage, even with our small army of small warriors.
“You did not!” one sprite yelled to another. “I found that delicious little mushroom. You can go eat that one!”
“That one is my home!” the other spat. “I can’t eat that! Where would I live?”
“Maybe a nice orc family will take you in?” the first suggested.
“Maybe you should go find an orc to live with! You look like one. And you smell like one!”
There was a slap, a kick, and the fight was on.
“Do they always quarrel like that?” I whispered to Alena.
“They’re assholes, remember?” she said with a wink. “It’s their culture. Plus, they’re bored. There’s nothing to do. They can’t venture far or they’ll be spotted. They’ve been hunted for along time. You can’t really blame them for developing weird customs, right?”
The thought of never being able to explore my surroundings and interact with others wasn’t pleasant. I had to admit I might do the same thing in a similar situation.
When Silverwind buzzed by—apparently on his way to go watch the combat—I stopped him.
“I’m curious,” I said. “Would you mind speaking with me? I have questions.”
“The weak, giant mage who barely beat me wants an audience with the leader of the sprites?” he asked, raising one tiny eyebrow.
“Sorry,” I said. “If my questions are too big for your tiny brain, I understand.” Normally I would have never spoken to any friendly leader that way, but the sprites appreciated a good insult now and then.
Silverwind laughed and took a seat on a nearby overgrown mushroom. “What questions do you have for me, baby human?”
“Alena told me the sprites have been hunted for a long time,” I said. “Why is that?”
Several other sprites took seats on nearby branches and mushrooms. It appeared story time had begun.
“All magical creatures are hunted,” Silverwind explained as a dark shadow formed on his face. “It started when I was very young. Long ago, we all lived in relative peace—the magical creatures and the humans. There were always few of us and many of them, but we kept to our own.”
“Stinky humans,” one of the other sprites whispered.
“Then their leader died,” Silverwind continued. “She was a powerful mage, and she was fair—a rare thing for any of your kind. Especially one who held the power of the elements in her hand and the power of the people in her voice. She was also quite beautiful, for a human.
She did not abuse her power or authority. Nor did she seek to exploit others in order to gain more. Instead, she kept the peace, ruled her people, and left the sprites alone.
“There were many wars during her long reign—mostly against the orcs. The matron of the Piggrin clan was not as wise as the old queen. Instead, she did everything she could to collect power around herself. She squashed smaller things, burned bigger things, and frightened us all. Even me.”
“But you were young,” a female sprite said.
“It is no excuse,” Silverwind snapped. Then he took a moment to calm himself before continuing.
“My father was the leader of our people, as was my grandfather before him,” the old sprite said. “It was my responsibility to become the next leader. Cowardice is not what a leader should display. Nevertheless, it was a long time ago, and if I see one of the Piggrin tonight, I will kill it. They can never be trusted. Not after what they did.”
“Wait,” Alena said, “you’re talking about the Hidden Army, aren’t you? They’re the Piggrin, right?”
“From what we have heard,” Silverwind said, “we speak of the same enemy. They’re hiding somewhere to the north among the hills. I cannot send scouts there to verify they still exist, but I do not believe the Xorian army has destroyed them.
“To venture that far from our grove would be a grave risk. We would likely be discovered, and even if we did find our enemy, there are not enough of us left to have any chance of defeating them. No, it would not be worth the risk.”
I sat in silence for several moments as I digested the information. Not only were the Xorians a problem, there were orcs—another creature I thought was nothing more than myth—to the north. They seemed like an imminent threat, but I wasn’t convinced they were still an enemy after all this time.
“What would happen if the armies of Xoria were defeated?” I asked. “Would the orcs attack, or would there be an opportunity for peace?”
Another five sprites joined us and looked to their leader, who only shrugged. “I cannot say,” Silverwind sighed. “None of the Piggrin clan has been seen in many years—maybe decades. I think it likely, though, that they would take advantage of the situation. They would sack nearby towns, starting with Dawnbreak or Stormbreak. Then they would move on to others. They have been persecuted for as long as the sprites have. The difference is, I do not believe they have been hiding.”
“What do you think they’ve been doing?” I asked.
“Waiting,” Silverwind said. Several sprites gasped, though I guessed they probably already knew the story.
“How long have you been in hiding?” I asked.
“About seven hundred years,” Silverwind said. “And our efforts have been successful so far. We have seen many things in that time, including several fires within these woods which nearly revealed our location. We had to evacuate once, but we were able to use our magic to help the forest regrow and we returned.”
“How is it you haven’t been discovered?” I asked. “Seven hundred years is a long time to live in the same place without anyone finding you.”
Several sprites snickered at my question. The sound was grim without a hint of mirth.
“We have been discovered,” Silverwind said. “Hundreds of times, but never by an orc. When humans are found nearby, we often cause them irritations that inspire them to leave the area. When they persist, however, they must be dealt with.”
“They kill them,” Alena whispered.
“Not always,” Silverwind corrected. “But usually, yes. The survival of my people requires direct actions. If I hesitate, and a human makes it back to tell the others, we could be invaded. Once we are discovered, finding us again is easy. It is the nature of the magic that protects the glen. By killing them, we help ensure our survival.”
“I hope someday that won’t be necessary,” I said. “If the Xorian armies can be defeated and their leader can be dethroned, maybe there can be a time of peace again.”
Silverwind shrugged. “Perhaps—but I have lived a long time, and I’ve seen nothing but the growing power of Xoria. I do not foresee this happening.”
“Who is the leader of the Xorians, anyway?” I asked. “I was
speaking to Alena about this, but she didn’t know.”
“Nobody knows,” one of the sprites, a female, said. “Nobody has ever known. It just… happened.”
“She is correct,” Silverwind confirmed. “We do not know, but I have an idea. I believe they are a theocracy. I believe their priests work together to secure their own power. They tell the others anything they think will help. By doing so, they keep the others afraid.
“It is difficult to destroy an enemy whose leader cannot be seen, reasoned with, or defeated. No, I don’t see the end of the Xorians any time soon.”
“Yet you’re willing to fight,” I said. “You’re traveling with me to the local fortress to destroy the priest there. You’re not worried about being exposed?”
“I am worried,” Silverwind said. His voice took on a slightly harsher tone, one of anger. “But hiding will not protect us forever. Seven hundred years of hiding has only made our lives more difficult. I believe the time for hiding is over. It is time to fight.”
“I love fighting,” the same female sprite said. She had a big grin on her face, as if she were talking about strawberries dipped in sweet cream.
“By destroying the local priest,” Silverwind continued, “we will create a power vacuum. If my suspicions are correct, another priest will take his place. However, it will take some time for one to arrive. One of the armies may have to be recalled to make it happen. The chaos it will cause will spread throughout Xoria. We will find ways to take advantage of it. The Xorian armies will hunt us, but I do not believe they will find us. If they do, we will fight, and we will die. Why do you fight? Why do you not flee?”
The question was a good one, but I’d already considered it and come to a decision. “Because if I can survive long enough to get home, I can tell my people what I’ve learned. It might give us the advantage we need in the upcoming war in my homeland.”
“And what have you learned?” Silverwind said as he rested an elbow on his knee and leaned toward me.
“Magic exists,” I said as I began counting the items on my fingers. “Also, sprites exist. All kinds of things exist. The most important thing, though, is the creature. When I find out what they’ve captured, and how exactly they’re using it, I’ll head home and tell my commanders. They might not believe me at first, but I can prove it to them.”
“By shooting one with a magical arrow?” the female sprite asked expectantly.
“No.” I laughed. “But that’s not the worst idea I’ve heard. If I show them any kind of magic, they’ll believe me.”
“I hope you are correct,” Silverwind said.
The sprites buzzing around the area suddenly froze in place. A second later, a dozen of them corkscrewed into the woods and out of sight.
“What’s happening?” Alena asked, rising to her feet with a hand on her sword.
“We have an invader,” Silverwind said as he waved the question away. “It happens, but it’s usually nothing dangerous. Something has wandered too close to the glen.”
“I have another question,” he continued. “How did you learn to use magic? The only other mages I’ve seen within the last seven hundred years have been the priests. We believe they are granted their power from their god. Is it the same with you?”
“It is,” I confirmed. “I was visited by Ebba, the Messenger of Death, while I was imprisoned within the fortress. We made a bargain, and when he left, I knew how to use magic.”
“What bargain?” Silverwind asked.
“To be his avatar,” I said.
“The avatar of the Messenger of Death,” Silverwind mused.
“Ooo,” the others chorused.
The sound of a dozen sprites grunting in the distance and something brushing against bushes drew our attention. I rose and was surprised to see what the sprites were carrying.
Between them, suspended by several branches, was what looked like a giant centipede. It was about ten feet long with huge, pointed legs on both sides and a pair of enormous pincers in the front. The creature was covered with hundreds of small slashes and dripped a yellowish-white ichor on the ground, nearby bushes, and small trees. It also stank like dirty feet and acid.
“Oh,” Silverwind said. “Good. Something fresh for dinner.”
“You eat those?” Alena gasped. “Why?”
All the nearby sprites giggled. It sounded like a thousand tiny silver bells being tickled by a breeze.
“Because they are delicious, you silly little elf,” Silverwind said. “Not everyone likes to eat dried meat all the time. Some creatures, such as sprites, like their food to be fresh.”
“I dry the meat to preserve it,” Alena said. When Silverwind smiled, Alena’s frown deepened. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”
The sprites giggled again.
“See?” Alena said. “I told you. Assholes.”
The old sprite smiled. “I need to go help the others prepare our meal. We won’t be able to finish it all, so you are more than welcome to join us. We will have to throw out what we don’t eat, anyway.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’m not sure if I’ll like it, but I’ll try it.” My stomach made a slow forward roll at the thought.
The sprites flew to join the others. They arranged themselves into rows, helped stretch the giant bug across the dirt between the mushrooms, and began slicing pieces off. Once they were gone, Alena spoke again.
“They’re pretty good cooks,” she admitted, “though not as good as me. And they do cook a nice centipede, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. They won’t respect me if I do.”
I shook my head and laughed softly. I’d never met any people who enjoyed teasing and being teased as much as sprites did.
“I’m glad you told me about them and what to expect before the fight,” I said.
“You both should feel glad,” Alena said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“If you had met them all on your own, maybe stumbled into them while fleeing from the prison, what would you have done?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted.
“You probably would have tried talking to them,” she said. “You’re a nice guy, and I don’t think you would have attacked first. The sprites, on the other hand, would have. They would have stuck you, needled you, insulted you—everything they could think of. I’m sure you would have won, but the fight would have been brutal.”
Based on the brief battle I’d waged against only a few of them and what they did to the giant centipede, Alena’s thoughts seemed accurate. I was glad they were on my side.
Sounds of struggling and tiny, enraged people interrupted my musings. Two of the tiny warriors spun around each other clawing and kicking each other until they spun into the trees above the glen. Though I couldn’t see the sprites, the sounds of their battle and the number of pine needles falling from above made it clear they were both enraged.
“Are they fighting over a centipede leg?” I asked.
“Yup,” Alena confirmed.
“But centipedes have more legs than they have sprites.”
“Yup,” Alena confirmed again.
A minute later, both sprites returned. They were bruised, bloodied, and neither could fly in a straight line. Both got back to work while a few others began stacking sticks for a small fire.
Soon, the fire was going and most of the sprites were sitting around it with long sticks. Each had a morsel of gooey-looking centipede they were cooking over the flame. Silverwind brought one to me and returned with one for Alena.
I sniffed the meat experimentally but didn’t smell anything. When I turned a quizzical eye toward the woman, she explained.
“You’re thinking about the nasty smell from earlier, right?” she asked.
“Yes. I expected everything to smell that bad.”
“That’s just something the giant centipedes do,” she explained. “If you scare them, they stink. I think it keeps bigger things—or in this case, smaller things—from eating them
. Who’d want to eat something that smells so nasty, right?”
We joined the others at the fire and began cooking the weird meat. The rest of the centipede had been portioned into piles along its exoskeleton. The pieces had been arranged based on color more than anything else. The one I was cooking was a pale kind of yellow and almost resembled an egg.
After a minute, another morsel popped. The sprite holding the stick giggled in glee, carefully pulled it off the end, and took a bite, sighing with pleasure. When mine popped, I did the same.
The morsel was sticky, and if anyone had handed it to me without any explanation, I wouldn’t have called it meat. It tasted like I was eating dirt, though it also had a pleasant, herbal flavor to it. I wasn’t sure what part of the bug it was, but I was certain I didn’t want to know.
As we ate, the sprites continued to battle and insult each other. One fight was because there were two of the little people who wanted to use the same part of the fire at the same time. When their food touched, both dropped their sticks and began to punch and kick each other, rolling on the ground as the rest scooted out of the way. Conversations continued as though nothing was happening.
It was like that for the rest of the night, unfortunately. One battle after another, before sleep finally settled upon me.
8
I was awoken the next morning by the sounds of new arguments starting. It was fortunate the sprites had learned to protect themselves with magic long ago. I had little doubt they would have stayed hidden for long otherwise.
After a breakfast of berries and mushrooms the sprites had gathered, Alena and I threw on our packs. We only had food, water, and a few potions with us, because we wanted to travel light so we could move quickly.
My small army and I were about to engage in a battle I would have never considered a few days before. We marched toward a small fortress deep within Xorian land. I planned to break in, kill the priest, and destroy the creature he was using to track Alena and me. Unless I accomplished those goals, there would be no rest for us. We would be tracked for days, weeks, or possibly the rest of our lives. We’d caused too much damage for someone like the goateed priest to ignore. He’d want his revenge, even if it took years to accomplish it.
