The Monster's in the Details

by Ren Ryder

  “Uh, would it be alright if I tagged along?” Willow asked tentatively. “I’m meant to see to your refreshment and any of your other needs that may arise in the meantime.”

  “Sure, I don’t see—” I began.

  “Absolutely not!” Bell interrupted.

  Willow withered under Bell’s disapproval.

  “Why are you still here?! You’re an eyesore. Shoo, get, scram,” Bell said.

  The nymph’s shoulders drooped as she kicked up dust behind us. It was a pitiful sight. The set of her shoulders and slight squint to her eyes made it seem like she expected to get hit. My heart clenched.

  “I thought…” Willow trailed off, looking like a lost puppy.

  “Hey Bell, come on, it’s no big deal. Let her tag along if she wants to. It’s no trouble.”

  Bell muttered something under her breath, then, louder, she said, “So she can wriggle her way between the two of us? Absolutely not!”

  “On second thought, I don’t…” Willow trailed off weakly.

  “You’re being unreasonable,” I accused my sylph companion.

  “Are you taking her side?!” Bell asked, incredulous.

  I shrugged.

  Bell looked like she swallowed a lemon, but she relented. “Ugh, fine. Come along now, but you better keep your distance from my contractor, got that, nymph?” Bell stuck a finger in Willow’s face, bared her teeth and did her best to look menacing.

  “I— yes! Thank you, I promise I won’t be any t-trouble,” Willow said.

  Willow wrapped her arm around mine, a gentle reminder of her presence but not the forceful one I’d come to except from the huntresses in the Nightside. An electric tingle shot through me where her skin touched mine, and I fought a reflexive urge to break apart from her. I reminded myself she was just being polite, and, more than likely, doing as she’d been told.

  Willow’s skirt swayed in the breeze, revealing a tantalizing bit of leg. “Sh-shall we?”

  Bell zoomed into the airspace in front of us and made an “X” with her arms. “This is not acceptable behavior! No touching— keep an arms-length distance apart! You see, see, this right here, this is why I didn’t want her tagging along!” Bell jabbed a finger in my face, stopping just short of poking out my eye.

  Up close Willow was like a shot of tequila. I shook my head to clear it while my copper bangle heated against the skin of my left bicep. Her words and actions were out of step, and she looked far from comfortable with what she was doing. With gentle care I disentangled myself from Willow’s grasp, patting her hand to make her feel more at ease.

  “Let’s see if we can get something to eat,” I ventured, trying to dispel the growing tension. “I’m starving.”

  “S-sure!” Willow jumped on the opportunity.

  Bell gave Willow some side-eye but otherwise did her best to pretend the nymph didn’t exist.

  Here was a conundrum.

  I was at a loss with what I was seeing. Faeries of all varieties were passed out in their chairs and on the table while still others were eating and drinking like there would be no tomorrow— which, in the Otherworld, was technically the case. Considering there was an endless supply of food and drink, I was sure the courtiers had been drinking and carousing to excess. I didn’t understand how the fae managed to party so hard for so long.

  Ensuring I kept a respectable distance from Willow, I picked a relatively empty section of the feasting table and elbowed in on some vacant seats.

  “You sit over there,” Bell commanded Willow, pointing to a seat opposite me on the other side of the table.

  I shook my head. “Bell. Be reasonable.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll just—” Willow moved to accommodate the spirit of Bell’s demands.

  Willow sat two seats down from me, not following Bell’s command but still leaving a space between us for Bell to occupy. Considering the sheer size of the table, I didn’t blame her for not complying. There was no way we would have been able to hear each other or interact at all if the nymph had done as Bell instructed.

  I picked off a platter and savored the flavor of delicious, tangy fruits that I had no name for. Spirit food or not, eating made me feel full and refreshed. I understood then how the partygoers could endure such prolonged festivities.

  Bell landed on an empty platter and stretched out so she was occupying as much space as her tiny body would allow. “I’m watching you— both of you, so don’t even think about it!”

  “Think about what?” I mumbled between mouthfuls as I stuffed my face with goodies.

  Bell narrowed her eyes at me. “Good, you pass.”

  “So, Willow, is there any chance you might have information to share about the upcoming trials?” I asked, trying to act casual.

  I didn’t expect to glean any real information from Willow, but it was worth a shot to test her knowledge and see what she was willing to share.

  “M-me?” Willow stuttered and shifted in her seat. “No, I’m no one so important that I’d have access to that kind of inside information. Maybe Oberon’s closest retainers would be in the know, but not me. Not me.”

  “How about, do you know if a guy named Fin Macool made it through the first trial?” I asked.

  “Fin… Macool. I think I’ve heard his name, yes, he’s one of the champions that arrived in the first batch. It came as a shock to many, considering he’s a… human,” Willow said, dancing around the word.

  I wasn’t surprised to hear Fin passed with flying colors. “Yeah, he’s really something.”

  Bell sat up straight. “Are we waiting on many champions? Or do you know how many are left?”

  “Y-you mean, that are still alive…?” Bell nodded for her to continue. “Not many. You arrived at the tail end of the champions expected to arrive… in the so-called final hour.”

  “No no no, I won’t. I won’t have this! That’s enough!” Bell yelled all of a sudden, sprung into the air and flew off.

  “What’s that all about?” I wondered aloud as I followed Bell’s trajectory through the air with my eyes.

  Bell was fighting off the pixies I’d met before the start of the first trial, the ones that’d represented a coalition of faeries coming together on my behalf. The copper bangle had already proven it was worth its weight in gold, and I wanted to give them my thanks.

  “Rose, Daisy, please give my thanks to the good folk representing me!” I projected my voice to the colorfully dressed pixies, who were amidst a slap-fight with Bell. Pointing at my left bicep, I yelled over the din, “Your gift has proven itself indispensable!”

  Rose left her sister to fight it out with Bell, who was all too happy to continue the charade now that the pixies had lost their numerical advantage.

  “So sorry to interrupt,” Rose said with a gracious midair curtsy. “Kal, so good to see you return alive from your walkabout. I’m among few that have greatly benefitted from the betting pool against you…”

  “Uh, thanks?”

  “Don’t I know you?” Rose asked Willow.

  “N-no, I don't think so!” Willow shrunk in on herself at the attention.

  “Hmm…” Rose gave Willow a good once over, then said, “My purpose in visiting was to express gratitude on behalf of all the fair folk tied to your banner. The better you do, the more you distinguish yourself, the better off we all are!”

  “… is that so?” I asked, curious.

  “Why of course!” Rose said, as if it was obvious.

  It wasn’t, but I pretended I understood. “Well, I don’t plan on bowing out until I’ve been crowned the Seven Year King. So I guess you can count on me.” I tapped a fist to my chest.

  Willow blinked at my boldness.

  Rose glowed. “Well, you certainly know how to tell a girl what she wants to hear. I will relay your determination to my compatriots. May the Dayside’s sun light your path, champion.” Rose, all business, grabbed her sister Daisy by the ear and dragged her off into the skies above the glade.

 
“… bye,” I called after her.

  I found the whole interaction rather abrupt and confusing, but I meant what I said about their gift proving indispensable.

  I drummed my fingers on the tabletop and returned my attention to the foods on display. I chose a plate of cheeses and honey and went to town, savoring every bite.

  “Have you guys met before or something?” I asked Willow, trying to prod her out of her silence.

  “W-what? N-no, of course not!” Willow said.

  Bell returned to my side with tufts of hair sticking straight up and her cheeks flushed red. “Dang pixies, I swear— what’s this all about then?” Bell asked.

  “Nothing! It’s nothing. Just a friendly chat,” Willow smoothed over the wrinkle in our conversation with a bit too much enthusiasm.

  A cold shiver went down my spine and I turned to see Oberon’s stately figure approach down a crowded aisle, clad in rich silks and disdain. The faery king’s powerful presence was a heavy weight on my back, making me twitch. Hiding my reaction to his uncloaked power, I plastered an expressionless smile on my face as he strode within a few yards of me and stopped.

  A wave of silence passed through the courtiers around me. People tipped over their chairs in their haste to stand and pay their respects to the faery king. Fists to chests, heads bowed low, or otherwise prostrated, they recognized the Lord of the Sunny Valleys.

  “Sit please,” Oberon flicked two fingers at the partygoers. “Enjoy yourselves.”

  I dipped my head, refusing to get out of my seat. “Oberon. What a happy accident, meeting you here,” I said, having no doubts that I’d been sought out for that express purpose.

  Bell hid behind me for cover, peeking just her head out to address the faery king. “Hi there your lordship.”

  Can’t I catch a break? I’m no social butterfly, and this is a bit much.

  “Halfling,” Oberon stuck me with a look of clear disapproval. “Get him clothed properly. He’s an eyesore. I won’t have his dirty blood muddying my trials any more than I must.”

  I rolled my eyes, but the comment about my state of undress stung. ”Sorry for existing, geez.”

  Oberon slapped Willow across the cheek. “I told you to take care of it.” Willow sat in her chair like a stone statue, just taking the abuse.

  “Y-yes, r-right away.” Tears welling in her eyes but not spilling over, Willow ran off clutching her cheek.

  I felt anger stir in my gut seeing the casual abuse. “What was that all about?” I demanded, fist clenched around my staff. I had to force myself to remain seated.

  “What?”

  What a clueless response.

  “Why did you hit her?” I clarified, teeth clenched.

  “What I do with my things is none of your business, halfling. Be grateful that I do anything for you at all,” Oberon dismissed my question with a wave of his hand.

  I gritted my teeth as icy rage simmered in my gut. “Willow isn’t a thing. People aren’t things. Who are you to get off treating others like that?”

  “I am king, Lord of the Sunny Valleys, foremost amongst twenty-eight.” In a flurry of silks, Oberon turned away, refusing to give me a proper answer. “You would do well to watch your tone when you speak to me, and keep your nose out of my business.” The tyrant walked off with the knowledge that all must bow before him.

  I’d been white-knuckling to hold them in, but convulsions wracked my body as soon as Oberon turned his back. His power felt like the cold hand of death gripping my spine and whispering dark promises in my ear. If he wanted to, the faery king could crush me like a bug. A thin barrier of propriety and tradition was all that protected me from that fate.

  All my hair was standing on end.

  I didn’t care to admit it, but, “He’s… strong,” I said.

  “You see? We had no choice but to go this route,” Bell was rubbing at her arms to rid herself of gooseflesh. “Thank the gods he’s too proud to take matters into his own hands.”

  “I guess that’s to our benefit,” I mused.

  Bell frowned. “The dagger won’t be in his hand, but that doesn’t mean it won’t appear elsewhere.”

  I sighed. “There’s no point in speculating.”

  Willow appeared, huffing and puffing like she’d just ran a marathon. She was carrying an assortment of garments piled so high her face was hidden behind them. All the clothes burst with vibrant colors and seemed to be spun from the finest of materials. The nymph presented them to me with fragile composure, laying them down on the table so I could take my pick from the lot.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Wha-what?” Willow asked, taken aback.

  “Are— you— okay?” I repeated.

  “I’m f-fine! Please, don’t worry about me,” Willow begged.

  “See Kal, she doesn’t want you to worry. Leave her be, she’s not your concern,” Bell said.

  I gave Bell the stink eye.

  “Please, pick any garments that suit your tastes.”

  I was tired of looking like a neanderthal. I parsed through the clothes, rubbing the fabrics between my fingers and admiring the stitch-work.

  “Kal, don’t,” Bell said, her tone firm.

  Willow looked like she’d been smacked. “Please, I’ll be punished.”

  My eyes danced between the two girls, both equally opposed in their ends. “Bell, have a heart.”

  Bell groaned. “You don’t even see it.”

  “See what? That I can ease the suffering of one person right in front of me with a simple act that benefits me?”

  Bell threw up her hands and screamed. “Ugh, you’re hopeless! Fine, do what you want. But don’t come crying to me later.” The sylph turned around so all I could see were the tense lines of her back.

  “Th-thank you for doing this. I’m sorry,” Willow said, her eyes darting between my face and the ground.

  I moved to pat her trembling hand, but stopped myself before I touched her. “Don’t worry about it. You’re the one seeing to my needs. I should be thanking you, not the other way around.”

  The least I could do for myself and Willow was to take a shirt. I rummaged through the selection with a casual hand, feeling for softness. I preferred to wear clothes that didn’t rub my skin the wrong way, so finding something I liked was more about touch than looks.

  I decided on a gray shirt with silver specks in it. It was soft to the touch and the fabric, whatever it was, was light and airy. I pulled it on over my head and felt a whisper of relief at being fully clothed again.

  I nodded. “This’ll do.”

  I was turning away when a cloak caught my eye. Many-colored streamers of fine silk were sewn into its body. The cloak itself was made of some kind of thick leather, treated on the inner side to be soft as fur.

  “What’s this?”

  “That’s—” Willow began.

  Bell cut her off. “That’s a fortune tellers cloak. Why would you want to wear that?” Bell was still turned the other way, but she was cheating somehow since she knew what I was looking at.

  I shrugged. “I just like it.”

  “Take it, it’s yours,” Willow said.

  I picked up the cloak and threw it around my shoulders, then buckled the clasp around my neck. It felt right.

  “You—” Bell snickered, “you look like a clown.”

  “I think it looks good on you,” Willow said.

  Grinning, I said, “Thanks, Willow. I’m glad you have my back, unlike someone.”

  I was busy appreciating my new look when Oberon’s voice boomed over the crowd, loud and commanding. “We will now begin the second trial. Champions, please follow your escort to your designated position.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Twenty-odd champions assembled in a cordoned off portion of the glade where gold-and-silver circles had been laid atop the earth. The circles were about five meters across and just as wide. Each had a carved wooden podium that housed huge gemstones.

  “Compared
to what we started with, not many made it,” Bell said.

  I scratched the stubble on my chin. “As intended?”

  “Likely as not,” Bell conceded.

  I rested a hand against a basketball-sized colorless gemstone. It was warm to the touch. Drumming my fingers against it, I locked eyes with the diminutive faery opposite me. He had old, knowing eyes. And while I towered over the guy, I sensed an inordinate amount of mana rolling off him that was out of proportion to his small stature.

  “It’s a puck, a shapeshifting hobgoblin. Nasty buggers. Looks like an accomplished shaman too,” Bell whispered.

  The puck’s entire body was covered in soft white fur, and little ears stuck out the top of his head. He had a four-foot black staff with bits of jewels, bones, and teeth tied to it. A jawbone necklace hung from the faery's neck, and a collection of ears were tied to a belt on his waist.

  “I’m called Hrodebert. And you, halfling, have you a name?” I noticed a fuzzy white tail twitching behind the puck’s back.

  “Kal.”

  The puck tugged at his long white beard. “I suppose you can’t be persuaded to bow out peacefully?”

  I shook my head in the negative. “Not a chance.”

  Hrodebert’s face wrinkled into a frown. “As I thought. Well, no matter. Either way, the result will be the same.”

  “Kal won’t lose!” Bell proclaimed.

  Speak for yourself.

  A wind rippled through the glade, catching my cloak of many colors and its tassels, making them twist and snap. I shifted my attention to the greater area around me.

  The faerie court was arrayed around the circles, gawking at the participants.

  We were butted up against the pond so the water-locked fae had the same opportunity to observe. Two giants sat crosslegged, their heads bowed so they could see the whole expanse at once. Satyrs, banshees, imps, and dwarves had co-opted the golden dragon as their bench, climbing up the ridged spines of its back to get a birds-eye view.

  Faeries capable of flight had moved into the airspace above us. It made for quite a sight, a bunch of pixies, sylphs, djinns, will-o-wisps and harpies hovering above the soon-to-be battlefield. Little flower sprites and shadows danced chaotically in the air.