He was stunned such a small fairy could be so intimidating. “But…fairies don’t make wishes.”
“Well I do! And none have come true,” her reply seethed through her teeth. She quickly turned and continued her speed-walk to the F.I.A.
Thane followed, making sure to keep his mouth shut.
13
A General’s Plea
Ever since Beren lost Elanor, he was never quite the same. Word had gotten out among his Keepers that the General would occasionally go missing for hours at a time without any report to the F.I.A. He knew there were rumors about him; rumors that claimed he’d lost his spark. Not the spark of energy he once had as a young fairy, but the spark that keeps a fairy sane and intact. For Beren, it was just easier to let his troops and civilian fairies talk all they wanted. There was a spark that was missing, but it had nothing to do with his sanity.
Every night in bed he would stare at the empty space next to him with his hand outstretched caressing the sheets back and forth, back and forth. It was all he could do to make himself fall asleep. Somehow the soothing nature of the slow waving of his arm eventually made him tired enough to fight off the insomnia, though it didn’t always work. The only good thing about insomnia was that he wouldn’t have to manage his nightmares, even though his worst one was re-lived day after day - forgetting her.
On the one-year anniversary of Elanor’s death, The Other Side was covered by a grey, clouded summer sky. Determined, Beren stepped through a fir tree’s Gate and looked out over the small town of Abdera.
He set a cautious foot onto the skinny fir’s branch and pulled back a few needles. Peering out into the park, he covered his head with a brown hood and flew off toward a rusty well a few hundred feet in front of him. A wooden bucket dangled from a mangled leather rope onto which he jumped and slid down. Carefully peering over the bucket’s edge, he looked down into the blackness of the well below. Voices could be heard, though nothing discernible, just muffled orders barked by a low, angry voice. About to climb down, he quickly ducked when a figure in all black launched itself up and out of the well. The figure used a grappling spell to pull himself out and eventually landed, sure-footed, on the green grass a few feet away.
Beren stared at The Captain, partially in awe and in an odd way, longingly. Flying out of the bucket, Beren slowly and quietly landed behind him. He removed his wand and though it was ready to fight, his eyes weren’t. The Captain whirled around and lightning-quick, armed his crossbow. It was pointed at his face before Beren could raise his wand.
The Captain motioned for him to drop it, but the General refused. Beren tried to look into the darkness of the hooded cloak, but a thick shadow cast away any light from The Captain’s face. He was a dominating figure, The Captain. A couple inches taller than Beren and his arms, as if unnaturally stretched, they seemed even longer than they normally should be. Walking toward Beren with his bow fixed on his forehead, The Captain was forcing him back. Step after step, they stared at each other until finally The Captain, with a quick thrust, pushed his crossbow inches from Beren’s sweating brow.
Beren crashed to the ground and looked up at The Captain in front of him. The General’s eyes were begging for something. Please, they said. Please. The Captain stood over the fallen Beren, pointing his crossbow at his heart.
“Elanor,” Beren said. “She needs to come back. Please.” Tears welled up in the General’s eyes. He didn’t raise his wand. He didn’t dare The Captain to make a move. He just stared at him - a husband wanting his wife to come home.
The Captain flinched. Beren noticed that there was a pause as if The Captain was contemplating more than just his plea. There was something deeper. Something he didn’t understand. Finally The Captain slowly lowered his bow, stared at the tearful Beren and walked away.
By Beren’s sudden heaving breath and rush of tears, it was as if he’d rather The Captain shoot him dead than simply leave him be. He watched the lean and tall Captain walk around the well and launch himself into a nearby maple - gone.
14
The Hope
Because of Erebus’ ten-year hold on The Other Side and the ever-growing danger of attempting a wish wrangling session, fewer Keepers were willing to risk everything for their Makers’ wishes. Shea thought it was cowardly and shallow for a WishKeeper to refuse to cross over, but as the years passed and more and more Keepers were killed or went missing, she understood why they were refusing to cross over. Even though she knew why, it still didn’t make it right. Here she was, desperate to be a Keeper, and so many of them were dropping from the ranks, refusing to perform their duties. Quitters, she thought. She watched her dad try to re-gather his forces, only to eventually accept that he was lucky to have any Keepers at all. It was just another reason why Shea was so eager to convince her father that she should be given a shot.
The remaining force was a mixture of brave heroes with an undying devotion to WishKeeping, and to put it lightly, egotistical crazies. Shea knew her dad couldn’t wrangle this True Love Wish on his own. If he was lost, the core of WishKeeping and Paragonia in general would crack and ruin, even though Shea refused to tell her dad such a thing. It also made her uncomfortable admitting that her dad was right, but they didn’t have a WishingKing on the throne and their borders were vanishing more and more every day. While the True Love Wish brought a chance to rebuild and rebalance their realm, it also carried a very real and very dangerous possibility of falling into the wrong, shadowy hands. It was too much for Shea to think about, because if she focused on all of the bad things that could happen, she’d never get the chance to prove herself. Fear wasn’t an option.
Every Keeper knew this wish was their ticket to regaining their strength, but only Beren’s elite crew of WishKeepers was willing to make the sacrifice. The Forlorn Hope was the self-named troop of WishKeepers that were willing to continue their sacrifice in order to wrangle as many of their Makers’ wishes as possible. Shea would roll her eyes when Beren called them The Hope. He didn’t like the negative connotation of the word “forlorn”. Nonetheless, The Forlorn Hope continued their missions on a daily basis and even though her dad ignored the forlorn aspect of its name, it kept proving its negative meaning since each day a few of its members would cross over to The Other Side and never return.
Squeezing their way into a crowded War Room, Shea and Thane meandered through the panel-lined main room of the F.I.A. headquarters. It was packed shoulder to shoulder with members of The Hope yelling and shouting, one opinion after another. Shea could hear two particular members attempting to aid their General in calming the crowd. They always kissed their General’s ass and even though Shea despised brown-nosers, she couldn’t help but want to join their ranks.
“It’s not just any wish!” yelled Foster.
Foster was famous for being one of the tallest WishKeepers in recorded Paragonian history - even taller than the mythical Norderon of Greenway. While Shea was slightly below average, standing at a petite six inches, Foster more than doubled that at thirteen. Most arguments had something to do with his assurance that he was thirteen and a quarter inch instead of the thirteen inches that was labeled on his recruitment sheet. His argument was the clichéd, thirteen and a quarter inch “in boots”, but everyone knows Keepers don’t wear boots, except for Shea, of course. Though his voice was of a nasal tone, it was impossible not to notice it simply due to the fact that his mouth was at least a couple inches above everyone else’s.
“We don’t have nearly enough wishes coming in and we all know what a TLW could mean for us!” yelled Goren.
Goren wore all green from head to even his toenails. Most Keepers were annoyed by Money Wishes, but Goren prided himself on granting his Maker’s countless financially-based wishes. He was massive, though still two inches shorter than Foster. They called him The Bull since barely an ounce of fat could be found on his body. His green cloak couldn’t hide his bulging biceps, which were almost as big as his calves. The loud rambling and shouting of the
crowd meshed into one continued complaint and, truthfully, Shea didn’t feel Foster and Goren were helping matters.
Goren and Foster were always together, though they would never admit they were friends. A third Keeper completed their triangle of mates - Avery. Avery was a terrifying beauty. Some fairies bind a heart with comfort, joy, and peace, but Avery’s long, thick black hair, and her deep ageless eyes were almost as dark as her black cloak and left her fellow Keepers wondering whose side she was really on. Much like the rarity of a fairy that donned red hair representing a True Love Wish, Avery’s thick black, shoulder length mane matched that of a Death Wish.
It was the sixth type of wish that no one ever talked about, including Shea. Just the mere thought of it would send shivers down even Shea’s spine. She had never encountered one and didn’t even know where they hid them. All of her time at the Nursery and she’d never come across one. She never liked to admit any kind of fear, but since most fairies were frightened of a Death Wish, she at least had company if the topic ever came up.
Shea knew Avery wasn’t evil in the general sense, but only because she and her father were the only fairies that knew much about her. Prior to the destruction of the True Love Wish, Avery was a much different fairy. When Shea would ask her dad about what happened to her, Beren would just leave it alone and say that what she had been through was something that didn’t need to be repeated. While Shea was curious as to what happened, she didn’t really care that much. She knew her dad was simply content with having her on board as a Keeper. Avery never complained, and really, as opposed to Goren who never shut up, rarely spoke a word. The unsaid word is sometimes scarier than a reply and Shea hated that idea. Avery never explained herself nor said much of anything, and it drove Shea crazy. Avery was the epitome of the unknown, and she liked it that way - just another reason most fairies were scared of her.
Shea was determined to get to the front of the crowd, unfazed by the hollering, but Thane was just trying to keep up. After his fourth “excuse me”, he lost sight of Shea, who was forcing her way to Beren. The General stood on a pedestal doing a poor job at calming his force of Keepers.
“I am well aware of our current situation,” said Beren at a volume barely loud enough to reach the front row.
“You can’t hand pick the Keepers! It has to be put to a vote!” yelled one purple-haired male Keeper with a sharp, pointed jaw, knowing that Foster and Goren were two of the Keepers Beren had already selected for the mission.
Thane finally pushed his way to the front and grabbed Shea by the arm just before she could make her way to her dad. She flung her arm away from his grip just as the yelling continued.
“The selections have been made,” said Beren trying to keep his cool, but his impatience was bubbling to a boil.
“Favoritism!” the yells continued.
“Oh shut it, pixie! Jealousy is a waste of time,” Foster yelled back. The word ‘pixie’, especially within The Hope, was a lashing insult for any WishKeeper. None of them considered themselves cute, or bubbly, or even friendly for that matter. To be called a ‘pixie’ was a genuine threat against any Keeper’s bloated ego, and the word ricocheted across the crowd of frenzied soldiers. Pushing and shoving, Shea could barely keep her balance as the roars from various insulted Keepers were deafening.
“There is no favoritism here and there never has been!” yelled Beren. “It’s the most important wish…” His voice dwindled to a grumble as he watched his corps of troops rioting directly in front of him.
Shea watched her father amidst the push and pull of the crowd. His eyes were set deep within his skull, rimmed with sleepless nights and devoted worry. They were clouded with thoughts that juxtaposed the surrounding chaos. A sudden calm rolled over his glassy eyes as he quickly looked up at the crowd.
“The wish must be destroyed!” yelled Beren. His voice echoed throughout the War Room. One by one, the members of The Hope heard their General’s sudden order and stopped, unable to believe what they just heard.
Shea wanted to gasp, to cry out, but it wasn’t just Thane pulling her back, it was the grip of uncontrollable anger and resentment that wouldn’t allow her to string together the words. A hush fell over the frenzied crowd. Goren and Foster turned to their General, already knowing this bit of information. Avery rolled her eyes, happy the crowd finally shut up.
“Are you all prepared to do such a thing? If Erebus gets his hands on this wish, it’s over. For all of us. The Keepers I selected have been briefed, and though heavy hearted, understand their mission.”
Shea pushed her way to the front of the crowd and rushed to her dad, “You can’t destroy it! Not again! It’s Grayson and Miranda’s second True Love Wish!”
“Shea!” he yelled, in a raspy whisper. Shea could tell he wasn’t prepared for his daughter to hear this news yet. “You need to leave. Now! This is strictly F.I.A. business,” said Beren trying to move on.
“No, it’s my business! I have the right to decide what to do with this wish!” Shea’s voice squeaked with desperation. This was it. Her chance to prove to her father that she can be the Keeper he’d always expected.
Beren’s quick look almost gave him away and Shea noticed. She knew her dad was aware of the lineage rules and this was exactly the time and place to discuss it. He couldn’t avoid it. Murmurs and light chuckles cascaded through the crowd. The General’s daughter suddenly feels like she’s important.
Goren couldn’t help himself. “That’s brilliant. Yeah, OK General, I’ll step down and let the wingless wonder do my job instead.” Foster tried to hold back a laugh, but without success. Avery gave him an annoyed look. This just enraged Beren even more.
“You hold your tongue, private!” he bellowed. Goren’s confidence melted from his face, but only for a moment. Beren was already dealing with his daughter’s small rebellion. He didn’t have the energy or will power to also deal with his troops’ smart comments.
Shea unfolded the page from the lineage book and handed it to her dad. He refused to take it.
“It’s our wish. I’m a rightful heir,” said Shea.
“Don’t do this,” replied Beren through gritted teeth.
Shea raised her voice making sure the quiet crowd could hear. “By fulfillment law, at parental death the WishMakers are passed to final heir. Read it!”
“Stop!” Beren pleaded.
“You told me to prove myself, so here I am!”
“You’re not a WishKeeper, Shea, and you never will be!”
It was a dagger to his daughter’s bleeding heart and it was exactly what he shouldn’t have said. Avery was no longer watching Shea - she knew her General’s words were hurtful - but instead locked on to Beren. Even she was surprised by the sudden outburst. Her by-the-book General was blatantly ignoring Paragonia law, much less lineage law.
Shea was speechless. In front of all of the fairies she looked up to. All of the fairies she wished to emulate, even the ones who made fun of her on a daily basis. Now even her own father didn’t believe in her. She stared at her dad. Not with anger. Not with surprise, but confusion. It was the only thing of which she was ever sure. Hesitation was a part of her daily life since she could remember, but she never hesitated with the thought that her dad believed she could one day be the Keeper he always wanted her to be.
Bursting towards the exit, Shea pushed the silenced crowd out of the way and hurried out, barely holding back tears. She hated knowing that Thane was following, but a slight glimmer of gratitude struck her unexpectedly. At least someone was on her side.
Addressing the crowd, Beren didn’t have to raise his voice this time. “It’s done. My selections, gear up. We cross over at sunset.” While the rest of the Keepers started to file out, Avery stood motionless, deep in thought, and staring at her General.
Thane hurried out of the F.I.A., pushing past the exiting Keepers, and tried to keep an eye on the retreating Shea. She was in a full sprint across the valley and though Thane knew he could easily catch up
, he let her be. He knew his orders, but he also thought Shea would hate him even more if he followed.
He took a deep breath, considering his options and turned to head home. Avery was standing, stoic, in front of him when he turned around and had his mind not been worried about his friend, he might have let out a little yelp. She glared at him, famously not saying a word, letting Thane say something first.
“Um, so, hello Avery,” he said, after a few long moments of staring. It was all he could come up with other than, “you’re really weird and scaring the crap out of me.” She continued to stare and finally took a deep breath, accepting that she will need to carry this conversation.
“Your handicapped friend…how is she with a wand?” she asked in a low, monotone voice.
Thane was surprised to feel a wave of anger flow through him. How dare she call her handicapped? Oddly enough, this calmed Thane and erased any strangeness he felt about the sudden conversation.
“You’d be surprised,” he returned, confident.
Avery dug a hand into a pocket of her cloak and suddenly Thane’s confidence began to retreat. Who knows what oddities Avery kept within that thing. Instead of a wand, she removed a blank, rolled piece of parchment, unfurled it in front of him and stared. She wasn’t staring at him, but rather at nothing in particular. Suddenly calligraphic words appeared on the parchment, sprawling out into sentences. Finally ending with See Winston, The GateKeeper. Avery rolled the parchment up and handed it to him.
Absentminded, Thane took the parchment, unable to avoid Avery’s dark eyes. He opened it and was about to read, but she spoke again; this time in a much more calming voice than he’d expected.
“Retrieving True Love goes beyond our rules of WishKeeping.”
He read the parchment and looked back at Avery. “Winston. You want us to cross over.”
The WishKeeper (The Paragonia Chronicles) Page 7
