by Tam Erskine
The Red-Caps laughed, dark husky sounds that never failed to make Clematis feel proud that such fierce creatures welcomed her.
Arth mock-growled. "I'm not sure why we don't squash you. Like a little bug, Matty, that's what you are."
Stilling her wings, she let herself float downward using Arth's cap like a sail to slow her.
He darted out a powerful hand to grab her, and she took off as fast as she could.
As always, he followed, only a breath behind her. Without looking, she knew the other Red-Caps were filling in the gap from his leaving his position. Brilliant tacticians, they were.
When they were a little further away, Arth lowered his voice, only the barest rasp of sound came out. "Good move, girlie."
Preening, she fluttered around so Arth could keep his back to the others. It wasn't wise to let them see the words on Arth's lips--just in case. "What's the news?"
"Grandmother Nogs sent one of her boys out. Princess Ada's voice is more and more in the royal ear." There were deep shadows under Arth’s great blue eyes. "Trouble's coming, Matty. Word is already traveling all over the realm."
"You worry too much." She swooped forward and dropped his cap on his head. "Queen might be mad, and Ivy might believe herself in danger, but she's the princess. She'll be fine."
He pretended to swipe at Clematis. "I'm serious. You be careful."
He lifted his hand to rub his chin, and between two fingers was a tiny dagger, just her size. Still whispering, he said, "Grandmother Nogs says she'd send more if she knew what to send . . . If the Queen sees Ivy's actions as a threat . . ."
"Longbow." Clematis darted over and kissed the center of the scar on his forehead. "I want a longbow. The boys showed me how to use it. I'm getting good, too."
"Clematis!" Daisy called.
"Go on." Arth shooed her like she was a bug. "Be careful, and I'll pass your word to Grandmother Nogs and any who cross." He paused. "Jack Merry might be just a mortal, but he's a good sort. Send us word if trouble comes too heavy for you."
She nodded and zipped over just as Daisy was lowering herself to Jack's shoulder.
Clematis hovered in front of Jack's face, pausing to peer at him again. He didn't look at all like she imagined a legend would look, what with his dull-colored hair and not a scar on his face. He was all legs, not thick and sturdy like the Red-Caps. She shook her head; Arth worried over nothing.
The Queen might be irritated, but once she saw that Jack Merry was just a normal mortal, it would all be fine.
Why even the lowest of the fey used to bring mortals to the realm. The Queen herself had invited mortal bards to her presence not too long ago. Yes, it'd be quite all right . . .
Or at least it would after they passed the Twitches.
Chapter 4: In which Twitches wait in every alcove
"Ivy?" Jack leaned closer to Ivy, his voice soft as he asked, "Could you tell me what's going on?"
Gazing at the shadowed grove ahead, Ivy let the horse have his head; they were close enough to home that trying to guide him was of little use. "You were brave with the Red-Caps. And kind. They'll well remember."
Jack nodded, as if he understood.
"Listen, Jack Merry." Ivy glanced back at him, keeping her voice low, and added, "There are other troubles we'll face. Mortals don't enter the realm. Mother has been very careful to set up obstacles. Heed me if I speak, strange though my suggestions might sound."
He grinned, gesturing at the Ellyllon and back towards the Red-Caps. "It all seems strange."
Ivy shook her head. He would be as helpless as a mewling babe if he didn't listen better than this. "And if I don't speak of it, Jack, heed that as well. Some things are forbidden me to tell you. Some questions are not mine to answer."
"I understand."
Ivy wondered if he'd come with her if he truly did understand; she knew she should tell him. She'd need to tell him before they reached the Queen's presence, but how do you tell someone you're asking him to enter a fight that isn't his own? How do you say that you think they might be a weapon? Or that the queen would want to stop him if she thought Ivy was right?
". . . vicious." Clematis was still going on about the Twitches. "No sense of fun, at all. Why, when I tried to show them how to do a hurtling-dive. . ."
"Clematis, you can't blame them for being upset over that." Daisy's exasperation with Clematis' ill-thought adventures was as constant as her inevitable patience afterwards. "You were careless."
Jonquil wandered off to check on a tunnel-mouse that had crossed their path.
"Careless?" Indignant, Clematis' voice rose again. "I am a very fine diver!"
Ivy smiled, listening to the familiar arguments. The Ellyllon had often crossed the tunnel, despite having to endure the Twitches' foul temper to do so.
Jack leaned forward. "So, would the Red-Caps really have forbidden you to go home?"
"They're sworn to the Queen, Jack. They'll bleed anyone they deem a threat to the realm."
"But you're the princess!"
"Not the eldest. Being the Queen's own will save me from some dangers, but beyond that . . ." Ivy shook her head. There was much that Jack would need to learn. She shrugged, thinking of her mother's oft-repeated reminder: Justice first, sentiment if there's time left after. "There are no guarantees of safety. Not with the Red-Caps or anyone here."
And with that, they entered the shadows.
No matter how many times they crossed into the tunnel, Clematis never quite got over the clammy-slick feeling down the lines of her wings. She shivered: her wings weren't made to be wet.
From her perch on Jack Merry's shoulder, she stared down the tunnel; even the glistening crystals on the walls looked ominous. Still, she watched the shifting shadows, as if seeing the Twitches' before they struck would help. It wouldn't. Nothing would.
Jonquil settled beside her. "Maybe they've fed well enough to be civil."
With a shake of her head, Clematis muttered, "Not likely."
"Shh!" Daisy tugged them down, pulling them into the slight space between Jack Merry and Ivy. "Just let Ivy speak. Don’t be afraid. "
Clematis sniffed: she could speak reasonably if she had a mind to. It just so happened that the Twitches didn't give her good cause to be reasonable. She wasn’t afraid, either. She only leaned closer to her sisters because of the damp. Really.
They stayed like that, tucked between Jack and Ivy like so much baggage, as they continued down the tunnel.
Then, they heard it--that rising shrill, like a banshee trapped in a box. Nothing good ever follows sounds like that.
"Vile things," Jonquil whispered, nodding her head and staring up at Jack. "You must stay strong, Jack Merry. Be steadfast."
Jack blinked at her, swallowed hard, and lowered his arm around them, as if to protect them with his mere mortal flesh.
"It'll be fine," he said, clearly, as if his heart wasn't racing.
But Clematis could see the thrum of his vein under his skin, like a bodhran drum set to life on its own accord. She patted his arm. "No. It won't."
Then the Twitches descended, talons outstretched, shrieking so loudly that Clematis' thought for sure that her ears would bleed.
"Steady now, Jack Merry," Ivy shouted as she drew the braided reins through her hand. "They're not as frightening as they appear."
"Really?" Jack looked at the creatures hurtling towards them with their mouths wide open. Their bodies were as thin as bare bones, covered in rotting grey skin that fluttered with a wet smacking sound. Sprouting from their sickly skin were wings, as long as their bodies but far sturdier. "They look awfully angry."
"They'll bluster a bit, but they're not usually more than an irritation." Then, Ivy frowned.
The creatures were still coming towards them, only now their talons were outstretched.
Ivy bent forward and spoke something over the braid.
As Jack watched, the braid hardened into a lengthy staff which Ivy promptly raised and wielded against th
e oncoming Twitches.
The Twitches' mouths yawned open, wider than should be possible, baring toothless gums as they shrieked, "Noooooo . . ."
Their objection echoed through the damp tunnel, no-no-no-no, deeper in reverberation than their shrill screams.
Jack ducked, twisting away from outstretched talons, keeping the little Ellyllon close to his chest as he moved. "Suggestions, Ivy?"
"Patience. They're trying to frighten us." She deflected the assault of another set of talons. "They'll settle soon enough if we've the patience."
Jack glanced down at the Ellyllon. "Are they always like this?"
"Told you they were nasty," Clematis said in a wavering voice. "But they're usually just bothersome and noisy, no sense of style or manners."
"Are you trying to get eaten?" Daisy tugged Clematis closer and clamped a hand firmly over her mouth. "Shush!"
Jack shook his head at the girl's audacity. He looked around at the Twitches, swirling and swooping to avoid Ivy's rope-that-was-now-a-weapon. "They look strong."
"Clever too, but your flattery won't work on these ones." Ivy thwacked a Twitches' leathery wing with a thick sound. "Come now! I've as much right to cross as I did this morning."
"Queen's orders, Princess Ivy," shrilled one Twitch.
The others promptly took up the words, "Queen's orders . . ."
"So, say the Queen, and so we do."
Clematis muttered, "Because they don't have the sense to . . mgfl."
Daisy clamped her hand over Clematis's mouth to cut off her undoubtedly hostile retort.
Glancing down, Jack winked at Clematis who was struggling against her sister's firm grip.
Just then Daisy shrieked, yanking her hand away from Clematis' mouth abruptly.
"You bit me!" Daisy's wings whirred as she fluttered into the air. "I can't believe you bit me."
Clematis grabbed Daisy's ankle and yanked her back, screaming, "Ivy! The other side . . ."
As Jack watched, a hideous Twitch barreled towards them with startling speed, staring at the Ellyllon like a predator homing in on wounded prey. Its eyes glowed like some alchemists' unearthly brew.
Ivy wouldn't be fast enough this time.
He lifted his arm, using it to block the opening between his body and Ivy's back. The Twitches' talons pierced his skin, tearing a slash from his wrist to elbow.
Ivy bashed it on the head, beating it backwards ferociously.
Clematis let out a howl. "Vile, retched things! Do you hear me?!"
Dark droplets poured from his arm, dripping on the little Ellyllon as they struggled to keep Clematis calm.
Looking like a small warrior with her fierce snarl, she yelled, "Ivy ought to banish the bunch of you. An infestation, that's what you are!"
"I can't believe they're attacking me." Ivy beat back another Twitch. "They've never done that."
But it went on like that until Jack was near numb to the sight; his arm ached something awful. He cradled the Ellyllon in his other arm, watching the Twitches carefully lest one of them got past Ivy.
The tunnel echoed with the Twitches' shrilling, and the steady thumps as Ivy flailed against the seemingly endless onslaught of Twitches.
As far as Ivy could see, Twitches eyes glowed from the shadows. Though they had finally settled, retreating to their roosts, she feared it was but a temporary calm.
Her stomach was quavering, and her arms throbbed. She bit down on her lip and looked over the others. Jack had more than a few scratches and that one deep gash on his forearm. The bone wasn't showing, but it didn't look good all the same. Jonquil and Daisy were so busy keeping Clematis still and silent that they hadn't had time to wipe away Jack's blood from where it'd dripped onto them.
"Sorry, Jack," she murmured. "The Twitches aren't usually so . . . dangerous."
He nodded, gravely. Then, he said, to no one and everyone, "So, what can we do about this difference of opinion?"
Ivy's hand clenched around the still-solid braid, not at all certain if the Twitches would attack again or not.
From the darkness, they called, "Bringing the human here . . . in our den."
"Queen said no. She did."
"It needn't be this way." Ivy tried to stop them before they got spun up again. "I am the Queen's own. This is my right, my home."
No one spoke, the tunnel's silence broken only by the dripping of water into stagnant pools and the scraping of talons on rocks as the Twitches shifted and squirmed.
Glad the horse's hooves were soundless, Ivy urged him slowly forward.
She tried not to stare at the eyes glowing in the darkest of the shadows. Steady, she told herself. We'll get through this.
"Who risks the Queen's ire?" The Twitches started off again, repeating the word like a battle cry, ire-ire-ire, and swooping through the air.
Ivy straightened her spine, watching those glowing eyes advancing on them again.
Vaguely, she heard Jack mutter, "Sorry" as he swung his satchel around the front of his body and tucked the Ellyllon into it. "You're safer in there."
But once they were overhead, the Twitches just circled.
"I'm not sure I'm up for much more of this." Ivy wiped her hair from her eyes and stared at the Twitches, trying to keep alert. She whispered a plea that she was right and said, "Tell me a story, Jack Merry."
"A story?" Jack repeated. "Perhaps now's not the best time."
A particularly raucous cry sounded down the tunnel, and the Twitches stopped circling and pulled back against the walls.
"No, Jack Merry, now is the perfect time. Close your eyes and tell me a story in which the heroes defeat their foes." Ivy urged the horse to go a bit faster and pleaded, hoping she was right, "Tell me a tale that I can believe with my every breath, Jack."
Another flock of Twitches flew toward them, each clutching something large and dark in her talons. As the flock came closer, the air became thick with a foul odor.
"Now, Jack!"
The flock of Twitches began dropping putrid egg sacks in their path. Viscous brown fluid oozed from them, sliding down the cave walls where they hit with loud thuds, clogging the ground where they spilled and shattered.
If they weren't through the tunnel soon, the horse's hooves would be stuck in the vile stuff, just as their feet would be if they were to try to walk through it.
It splattered on them, and Ivy leaned forward and tangled a hand in the horse's mane, hoping that she'd be able to get free without too much pain once they were through the tunnel. She tightened her legs around the horse. "Close your eyes and tell me the story, Jack."
And so, Jack began to tell a tale. "There once was a foolish mortal boy who stumbled into an incredible world . . ."
Ivy interrupted, "When they met dangerous enemies, Jack, that's where the story is now . . . they were against uncommon awful odds, and what happened, Jack Merry? How did the next thing come to pass?"
"Right, then, they were facing awful enemies, coming at them from every side . . ." Jack paused, opening his eyes to look around. They really were coming at them from every side. His mouth was dry.
"Queen says the human shall not pass." The Twitches dropped their fetid sacks, spreading that gummy gunk in the horse's path. "Keep you here, says the Queen."
"Jack! Close your eyes and tell." Ivy's voice was louder this time. "Trust me. Remember? You said you'd trust me."
Right, thought Jack. "So, the heroes were under assault, and the girl, though she was braver, was growing tired. Suddenly, though, she realized they were almost past their enemies. Yes, they were going to be safe. She felt stronger, her arms no longer tired from their fierce battles. She lifted her sword . . ." He faltered, almost believing he really had heard the whistle of a sword swinging through the air.
One of the Twitches shrieked.
In a strange voice, Ivy urged, "Keep going, Jack. 'She lifted her sword,' and then what?"
A Twitch swooped close enough that Jack felt its breath on his face. It crooned in that horr
endous voice, "In the tunnel you must stay. We'll feast on your soft flesh."
Jack shivered. "And she had the strength of . . ."
Another Twitch swooped lower, moaning, "Mortal and princess too . . ."
Another whistling sound, not a thwack, came from in front of him. Something thick and warm splashed on his face, burning where it hit, like hot tallow.
"I want their eyes," shrilled a Twitch above them. "Tasty, like sweetmeat . . ."
He felt Ivy's back stiffen and then the feel of her hair as she leaned back, forcing him to bend too. "Of what, Jack?" she prodded. "Tell me how strong she was."
Droplets and thicker things fell on Jack's arm.
Eyes firmly closed, Jack kept telling, "She had the strength of a score of Red-Caps. She was a blur, a fierce and strong princess swinging her unbreakable sword, cutting through the foes with as much ease as if she were walking through the forest, and then . . ."
"And could their foes keep up with her?" Ivy interrupted again. "Picture them, Jack. Picture their foes, and tell me of them."
Jack shook his head. "No, she looked at them and realized they weren't as clever or fast as they thought they were." He paused, picturing their own foes as clearly as if his eyes were open: imagining the Twitches careening into the damp caves walls, hideous wings failing them. "They were exhausted, unable to face the princess' ferocious attack, and they grew clumsy and tired."
He turned his head towards a strange series of thuds and shrilling cries.
"Keep your eyes closed, Jack Merry." Ivy exclaimed. "I need your words. Tell me what came next. When she looked, how close was the end of the tunnel?"
Jack felt dizzy and for a moment feared he'd fall. "Oh, they were almost out. It was only another moment, and then they were safe . . ."
"We're here, Jack Merry." Ivy sounded strange, like she was near to laughing or crying or maybe both. "We're here, and we're quite all right."
As he opened his eyes, Jack heard the bells, but they rang loudly like heavy silver now, not at all like fragile glass now.
