Charms of the Feykin

by Charles E Yallowitz

  With a glass-like shattering, the rest of the illusions are destroyed and Dariana doubles over to catch her breath. With their defenses obliterated, nothing hides the rest of the fae-blooded from view as they aim their spears at the champions. Some of the weapons are tipped with elemental magic while others remain in their natural state. None of the warriors bother threatening Timoran since he has his hands full with the injured forest tracker. Instead, most of the natives prepare to attack Nyx until she releases the young man, who has retaken his original face. When he sticks his tongue out at her, the channeler has a flexible tree swat him upside the head. A tremble of laughter from the crowd gives her hope that they will not have to battle their way to safety.

  “We’re only looking for our friends,” Dariana announces with her hands in the air. She puts the images of Delvin and Sari into the minds of the fae-blooded, causing every weapon to move toward her. “My name is Dariana and those two are my friends. They’ve been lost in the jungle for a month and we’ve been led to believe that they got into a fight with your enemies. We’d be grateful f you could point us in the right direction. Although, I should point out that I’m a telepath and have read that all of you know exactly where our friends are. Sorry, but we don’t want to waste any more time.”

  “Won’t admitting that you read their minds make them mad?” Nyx asks as she checks on Luke. The forest tracker has turned pale and his scar has begun bleeding again, drips falling on the ground. “Let’s forget about all of that. My little brother is badly hurt and we don’t want him to die. Do any of you have something that can help him? It was a magical backlash caused by his previous exposure to a Chaoswind weapon and-”

  Before Nyx can finish talking, a squat man with a red and blue beard comes jogging out of the crowd. Fluttering fairy wings are on his shoulders, but they are too small and weak to lift his heavy body. He urgently gestures for Timoran to crouch, which allows him to gently pry Luke’s mouth open. The bald fae-blood moves his face as close as possible to the half-elf and takes a breath that expands his chest like a balloon. When he exhales, a long tongue lances out to slip into the champion’s throat and continues squirming until the pink flesh turns black. Once all of the corruptive energy is absorbed, the man retracts his tongue and casually vomits black ooze into a nearby hollowed stump. Drawing a tiny bottle out of his pocket, the fae-blood puts a few drops onto the dark mass and watches it dissolve into silver mist.

  “Your friend should recover after we give him some remedy berries,” the man says, waving his hand for an attractive woman to gracefully approach. Her skin shows a delicate leaf pattern as she grows pink berries on her fingertips and drops them into Luke’s mouth. “My name is Frog and this is Plume. All of us are Feykin and we welcome you to our jungle. Please follow us to your friends and I promise to explain everything along the way.”

  “So Delvin and Sari are alive?” Nyx happily asks, her heart leaping with joy.

  Frog chuckles, which makes his throat repeatedly expand and deflate. “King Delvin and Queen Sari are perfectly fine. In fact, they are on the cusp of leading us to war against our enemies. Under their leadership, the Feykin will reclaim the jungle and return peace to everyone who lives here. Come along and we’ll show you our leaders’ great work. Are you okay, channeler? You looked upset for a brief moment.”

  “Fine. Great. Never better,” Nyx replies, her gathering tears evaporating before they leave her eyes. “Let’s go say hello to the great ruling couple. I’m sure they’ll be very happy to see all of us.”

  4

  “Just to be clear, you’re not going to kill them, right?” Dariana quietly asks as they walk through the jungle. Surrounded by the Feykin, the silver-haired woman is very aware that she is being watched even if nobody is looking directly at her. “I mean, we came all this way to save our friends, so it’d be rather silly to do what you’re thinking of doing. Okay, that idea isn’t any better. Stop thinking up more disturbing things to get me to be quiet. Where did you learn that Draconic gesture? Would it help if I say I’m sorry for prying into your mind?”

  “Yes and I promise to behave,” Nyx replies in a low voice. Unlike the well-hidden caution aimed at the others, the Feykin are blatantly eyeing the channeler as fire constantly rolls around her arms. “I’ll give them more than enough time to explain themselves. After all, it could be a misunderstanding and I’m overreacting. Wouldn’t be the first time I did so and probably won’t be the last.”

  “Glad to hear that. I think,” the telepath says, ignoring the violent image that flickers through her mind. Clearing her throat, she takes a few long strides to catch up to Frog, leaving her angry friend behind. “So, what’s going on here? I’ve never heard of Feykin, but I assume you’re the fae-blooded people that the Order of the Kehryhor are after.”

  The short man holds up his fist and whistles when they reach a chasm with no visible way across. A churning river is far below, its powerful rapids sending vapor halfway up the rocky sides. Standing at the very edge of the ground, Luke watches jagged stones appear whenever a breeze moves the billowing cloud. Noticing that some of the strange projections are shifting, he crouches and shields his eyes from the sun to get a better look. Frog grabs the warrior by his collar and gently pulls him back out of fear that the recovering warrior will fall. Luke follows the man’s pointing finger and briefly sees an enormous crocodile hanging from the opposite cliff face. The dark brown predator grunts before diving back into the river, the scaly ridge on its back cutting through the misty cloud.

  “Stone crocodiles are vicious, but they rarely climb this high up,” Frog explains, snapping his fingers for a quarter of the Feykin to approach the edge. He pulls Luke away as the others work together to create a bridge out of the surrounding mud and stone. “To answer your first question, Dariana, we are all descended from fairies. Some are closer relations than others, but the fae blood is strong in our veins. We’ve mated amongst ourselves over the centuries and that is why we call ourselves Feykin instead of fae-bloods. Not really half-breeds like Luke and Nyx with their human and Elven lineages, but not single-bloods like Timoran and . . . I can’t quite figure out what you are. Our King and Queen were hesitant to explain more than you being the most dangerous of the champions.”

  “I am very special and difficult to explain,” Dariana replies, her cheeks turning red. Unable to ignore the oppressive heat, she removes her side-tied top and does her best to wring sweat out of her stained undershirt. “From my readings of the cultists, they consider all of you abominations. There are so many questions that I have about them and their vendetta. What happened to cause some of the locals to turn on the fae-blooded here?”

  Frog claps his hands and gestures for his fellow Feykin to cross the bridge, only a handful staying behind with him and the champions. “There has always been fear and hatred toward the jungle fairies, who now dwell in the deepest parts of the land. Our ancestors enjoyed stealing attractive single-bloods and the Order was created to stop them. Their actions were rarely violent and tended to be reactive. About five years ago, there was an incident that we have taken the blame for. Somebody, possibly a fairy or Feykin, impregnated the firstborn of every local leader, including the sons. Within a month, the victims were hollowed out by the babies and the Order swore revenge after drowning the infants. We tried to send word that we had nothing to do with the attacks, but our diplomats were tortured and became the first ones fed to the Judges. I ask you, does the death of a few people by a solitary, deranged individual give one a reason to commit vengeful genocide?”

  “No and it would seem that the fringe members of the Order used the situation to wrest power from any moderates in their ranks,” Timoran interrupts while he taps his foot on the bridge. Seeing a stone crocodile clambering up the cliff, he roars loud enough to scare it back into the river. “A fairly common practice across the world. Those who want extreme measures will patiently wait for an opportunity to take control. The current leadership might have executed
the members that they deemed weak. Our few encounters certainly make me think of them as blind zealots.”

  “It still isn’t right,” the bearded Feykin bluntly states before marching across the bridge. He stops halfway to the other side, his tongue spinning in the air to catch a few juicy flies. “I believe I should be honest with you. We trust the drite, but the rest of you are coming with us only because the King and Queen vouch for you. The champion prophecy is a bedtime story for our people and nothing else. If such heroes existed then we’d have seen them already since we live at the base of one of the rumored temples. I say rumored because there is nothing at the top of Binhadar Falls, but death and desolation. So as far as we’re concerned, you are foreign adventurers and will be watched until our leaders feel you can be trusted.”

  “That was an odd change of tone,” Luke mentions, his attention partially stolen by a hissing beyond the trees. Peering across the chasm, he is unable to see through the thick jungle and finds he is too weak to access any of his alternate senses. “We don’t mean any harm, Frog. Friends of Sari and Delvin are our friends too. So there’s no reason to try and intimidate us.”

  “Nyx win if fight,” Fizzle says as he sticks his tongue out at their guide. Frog returns the gesture with a loud croak that startles the drite. “Fizzle sorry for words. Angry after attack in temple. Hurt Fizzle. Left Fizzle weak. Cul . . . Cu . . . Bad people nearly kill Fizzle.”

  “For that we apologize,” the stout Feykin swears with a bow of his head. Turning to face the others, he does his best to remain calm, but they can see his elastic throat repeatedly bloat and contract. “As for my warning, you will be the first outsiders to visit the city of Rhundar. Aside from our new rules, of course. This fact puts all of us on edge. None of us are ready to become common knowledge in Windemere.”

  Frog finishes escorting the champions across the chasm and takes Plume by the hand to help her over an uneven step. The silent woman stretches her hands and black berries grow from her fingertips. With a spin, she throws the ten orbs over the bridge where they become sharp-toothed maws, the strange objects hungrily chomping at empty space. It takes a minute for the ravenous berries to devour the stone and make the chasm once again impossible to cross. No longer needed, the ebony fruits become dormant and plummet toward the river where the stone crocodiles pounce on them. Proud of her display, Plume pats Timoran and Luke on the chest before skipping after the other Feykin. Both of the men exchange curious glances, neither of them sure of why she touched them.

  “She can’t talk, so she speaks through physical contact,” Dariana whispers, nodding her head toward Frog. The man is frowning at the champions while rubbing a simple ring with his thumb. “She’s his wife and I sense that he is the jealous type. Communication problems cause tension between them. To Plume, patting a man’s chest is nothing more than a compliment about their appearance. If she tries to touch your lips then you’re in trouble.”

  “Are you constantly reading us?” Frog asks, his keen ears catching the telepath’s words. A knife slips out of his mouth, the blade expertly wielded by his tongue. “You aren’t making many friends here. I was happy to save the forest tracker as proof that we meant you no harm and to calm the channeler down. Don’t try to take advantage of us because you think we’re uneducated fools.”

  “And don’t keep threatening us because you think you have an advantage,” Nyx snarls, her temper causing flames to burst from the ends of her shoulder-length hair. The young woman moves close enough to grab the dagger and heats it until the Feykin is forced to release the weapon. “My friends and I are exhausted. For weeks, we’ve worried about Sari and Delvin. Now that we know they’re safe, our energy and patience are starting to fail us. You don’t want a living weapon like me to become irritable. It’s unhealthy.”

  Frog surprises the champions with a wide grin and hearty laugh. “That’s the rage and fire that we were told about. Queen Sari promised that you would be her secret weapon. King Delvin is more interested in utilizing Dariana’s powers and Timoran’s strength. So many battle plans have been made and we’ve been told many fantastic stories about you. I wanted to see if any of them were true, so I wanted to goad. I apologize for pushing you too far. Though be prepared for others to do the same since casters of your caliber are rare in the jungle.”

  “I don’t like how we’re being treated. Something feels strange,” Luke mutters to himself as he trudges behind the others. Even with his head down, the half-elf is able to nimbly evade the incoming tongue. “Guessing that was another test. I don’t mean to offend you, but your behavior seems erratic. Makes it hard to trust you and the others. So I’m going to remain cautious until we reach your home. Out of curiosity, did your leaders say anything about me? I noticed I wasn’t mentioned before.”

  “Sari called you an expendable jerk and Delvin said you are too wild to be trusted.”

  “That’s pretty harsh.”

  “Considering your condition when we first met, I’m tempted to believe them.”

  Luke trails behind the others as they silently follow Frog through the jungle for several miles. There are too many secrets that the champions are pondering and they are starting to doubt that their guide will give them any real information. A thick veil of anxiety falls over the landscape as the adventurers continue, the hot midday sun blocked by the thick leaves. A few animals are spotted in the canopy, but most of the beasts remain hidden even though their calls are always on the faint wind. The other Feykin come into view when the trees stop and reveal a circular clearing that is filled with golden grass. The stalks rise up to Nyx’s waist and their texture is as smooth as polished metal, which is warm to the touch. It is hard to believe they are natural, but several clumps have been dug up by animals to reveal meaty roots. Shifting reeds can be seen in the distance as various beasts move through the area, their bodies never coming into view.

  A hiss emanates from beneath the ground before bubbles envelope the group, some taking on as many as three passengers. The thin transports have an oily sheen to their surface, which becomes a swirling rainbow in the sun. With some of the Feykin controlling the wind, the bubbles head for the sky and soar into the distance. The thick jungle passes quickly beneath their feet, but the champions catch glimpses of villages and herds of livestock on cleared land. At one point, Luke swears he is looking at the same gathering of humpbacked cows and the bubbles are going in circles to confuse the outsiders. By the time they come to a mountain that pierces the ivory clouds, none of the adventurers are entirely sure about where they are or how far they have traveled. All they can see for miles in every direction are unbroken trees and flocks of colorful birds flying among the berry-covered branches.

  Circling around the mountain, the bubbles land atop wide, flat-topped mushrooms and pop to safely release their riders. The champions are able to see the entire area, which they are surprised has gone unnoticed for centuries. Falling from high above the ivory clouds, a roaring waterfall sends soothing mist across the landscape. A strong river creates a border around the Feykin’s home, which is a strange collection of unique structures. Four large towers stand in the city’s center, each one topped with the potent energy of an element. Private houses and businesses spread out around the rest of the area, the buildings ranging from wooden cabins to large igloos. A few of the Feykin can be seen roaming the wide streets, but none of them appear to be in a rush or working. One or two of the citizens notice the returning party and lazily wave before returning to whatever errands they are casually tending to. Erected in the middle of the elemental towers is a marble building that sits atop a large mound of dirt, lines of flowers and a single staircase leading up to a pillared entrance. Only the triangular roof is white while the rest of the structure is divided into fourths, each corner a color connected to a season. Being too far away to make out the details, the champions are sure that the quartet of flags on the building are emblazoned with the symbols of the Four Sister Goddesses. There is a visual serenity to the
city, which barely covers the muscle-gripping tension in the wind.

  “Welcome to Rhundar,” Frog says while the mushrooms shrink and bring everyone to the ground. Most of the Feykin disperse into the city, leaving the champions alone with the bearded man and his wife. “No time for a tour. All of you are expected by our leaders. Follow me and try to keep up. Like I said earlier, we have a war coming and victory tends to go to those who draw first blood.”

  *****

  The foyer of the central temple is lined with statues of beautiful fairies, each one having eyes made from sparkling gems. A subtle warmth is in the floor and walls, which reminds the travelers of a hot spring’s soothing steam. Several archways lead to indoor gardens that are designed to imitate various places from around the globe. Poking his head into a sand-filled chamber, Luke is surprised to see a mural of Bor’daruk on the far wall. Nyx yanks him back into the hallway and they hurry to catch up to Frog, who refuses to slow down. As they move further into the building, the calls of birds carry from several directions and bowls of food are seen tucked into high alcoves. It is not until they turn a corner that the adventurers see a flock of brightly colored parrots. Orange and red feathers litter the floor, which is humming as its mild enchantments gradually dissolve the mess. Fizzle tries to get closer to the birds when the largest one puffs out its chest and screeches in his face. Accepting the territorial display, the drite lands on Timoran’s shoulder and pouts in rejection.

  Frog slows down when they reach a pair of double doors made of emerald wood and silver hinges. Making sure everyone is accounted for, he knocks on the entrance and whispers through the keyhole. A silky voice responds in a language that shifts with every other word, making it impossible for Luke to translate the conversation. He gets the distinct feeling that this is being done on purpose and wonders if there is anything that the Feykin have not been told about his abilities. Frog harshly clearing his throat snaps the half-elf back to reality, their guide silently bowing before taking his leave of the champions. They are still watching the bearded man jog down the hallway when the doors to the central hall silently open.