Demonkin (62 page)

Bitsy swooped down and landed on the bird’s back. She reached out and grabbed the pigeon’s right wing. Thimble landed next to her and grabbed the left wing. Despite the fairies on its back, the pigeon still flapped its wings. Bitsy was tossed off and had to fly as fast as she could to catch up.

“Great plan you have here,” shouted Thimble as she bounced up and down to the beat of the bird’s wings.

“Maybe we need to grab the wings farther from its body?”

“Perhaps this pigeon is stronger than theirs was,” retorted Thimble. “This is not going to work.”

“Quit being so pessimistic,” scowled Bitsy. “At least we are slowing it down.”

“Barely,” snapped Thimble as she tried to move her tiny hands farther out on the wing.

Thimble lost her grip, and the beating wing tossed her into the air. She tumbled towards the ground before getting oriented and charging back up towards the beast. Her eyes locked on the tube tied to the bird’s leg, and an idea popped into her head. Instead of returning to the bird’s left wing, she latched onto the leg.

“Where are you?” shouted Bitsy. “I have the right wing under control.”

“Forget the wing,” Thimble shouted as she pulled a tiny dagger from her belt and began slicing through the straps holding the tube to the bird’s leg. “I have a better idea.”

“Quit fooling around,” yelled Bitsy. “Where are you?”

“I am getting the message,” replied Thimble.

“If you were getting my message,” scowled Bitsy, “you would be up here on the left wing. What are you doing?”

Thimble cut through the straps and quickly grabbed the tube as she fell from the pigeon’s leg. Bitsy continued to shout for Thimble to help, but Thimble had a better plan. She soared under the beast and came up alongside Bitsy.

“Are you enjoying your ride?” called Thimble.

Bitsy shook her head as she turned and saw her partner on the wrong side of her. “I am so going to tell Prince Midge on you. Get back on the other wing.”

Thimble laughed as she held up the large tube in her hands. Bitsy frowned as she stared at the object in Thimble’s hands. It took a moment for her to realize what she was looking at. When she finally did realize that it was the message tube, she let go of the pigeon’s wing.

“Do you think Prince Midge will give me a medal?” chuckled Thimble. “When you tell him about my actions today, I mean.”

“I knew that was what you were doing,” retorted Bitsy as the pigeon raced away from the fairies. “I was just holding the wing to slow the beast down for you.”

Thimble laughed loudly. “It’s not your fault. After all, your mother was an ogre.”

Thimble banked sharply and headed north as fast as she could fly, laughing all the way.

“You better not tell Button or Pixy about this,” shouted Bitsy as she chased after Thimble. “I’ll have Garth send you to the Endless Swamp.”

* * * *

Natia was anxious as she stood in the shade of a tree across the street from the Tap and Mug tavern in Giza. Her plan was carefully choreographed, but she knew that one misstep could spoil everything, and that had her worried. The gypsy princess chewed on her lip as she watched soldiers come and go from the tavern. It was already well past high sun on the day of the new moon, and Captain Beck had not shown up for his midday meal. Just as her thoughts turned to scrambling to find an alternate plan, the captain appeared. Natia sighed gratefully as the captain made his way into the tavern. She remained in the shade of the tree for a few minutes as she composed herself and prepared for a confrontation with the captain. When she was ready, Natia crossed the street and entered the tavern. The dimness of the common room made it difficult to see, but Natia knew where the captain would sit. She smiled as she slowly crossed the room and sat across from Captain Beck. The captain and Natia had not met since she had helped him home from their last gambling foray, and she was not sure how he would react.

“I thought I might find you here,” Natia greeted the captain.

“Look,” the captain said defensively, “it wasn’t my fault. I think they were cheating me.”

“It was probably just a run of bad luck,” replied the gypsy princess.

The captain frowned and stared down at his plate of food. “How did I get home?”

“I knew that you had a lot to drink,” giggled Natia, “but I never imagined that you were over the edge. You really don’t remember?”

“No,” the captain admitted gruffly as he avoided looking at Natia. “Were you with me when I got home? I found my door unlocked the next morning.”

“I could hardly lock it now, could I?” chuckled Natia. “You truly do not remember? I am shocked. You didn’t show any signs of drunkenness.”

The captain looked up and saw Natia smiling at him. “I guess I drank a bit too much. Would you like something to eat?”

“No.” Natia shook her head. “I already ate. I was anxious to meet with you today. There is another game on for tonight.”

“I heard,” the captain replied without enthusiasm. “How did you hear about it?”

“I made some friends at the game the other night,” answered Natia. “They told me about the one tonight.”

“You sure make friends easily,” commented Captain Beck. “What did you want to see me about?”

“The game tonight, silly.”

“It is out of the question.” The captain shook his head vigorously. “I called in favors to get time off for the last game. There is no one available to take my place at the center tonight.”

“You have to,” pouted Natia. “I must get that gold back.”

“Forget it,” the captain replied adamantly. “Even if I could get the time off, which I can’t, I don’t have enough gold to get a stake in one of the big games. Face it, your money is gone.”

“I have the stake,” scowled Natia as she placed a pouch of gold on the table. “I need you to get my gold back.”

The captain raised an eyebrow as he grabbed the pouch of gold and peered into it. “How much is in here?”

“Ten-thousand,” Natia replied. “That should be more than enough to get back what you lost the other night.”

“What I lost?” balked the captain. “So we are partners unless I lose. Then it is my fault?”

“I am sorry,” apologized Natia. “My lucky shawl got wine spilled on it. I should have known something would go wrong when that happened.”

The captain tied the pouch closed and shoved it across the table to Natia. “We will get your gold back next week. I can arrange my schedule differently then.”

“Tonight,” insisted the gypsy princess. “It has to be tonight.”

“I already told you,” scowled Captain Beck. “It is impossible. You will just have to learn to wait.”

Natia stared at the captain and tears started flowing from her eyes. She sniffed and wiped her eyes. The captain frowned as he looked across the table. He suddenly realized that Natia’s urgency was more than mere impatience.

“What is it?” he asked softly.

“The money was not mine,” sobbed Natia. “If I don’t have it by tomorrow, I will die. There will be no next week for me.”

The captain’s eyes widened with understanding. “Tell me whose money it was. Perhaps I can do something to buy you more time.”

“There is nothing that you can do,” retorted Natia.

“I will protect you,” promised the captain.

“You cannot even leave the center for a lousy game. How can I expect you to protect me when they come to kill me?”

The captain sighed with frustration, as he knew that Natia’s words were true. He could not protect her all day and all night. He stared at Natia’s tears for a moment and then exhaled loudly.

“Alright,” the captain said conspiratorially, “I will find a way to get to the game tonight. We will get your gold back, but then you are going to level with me.”

“I will,” promised Natia as her demeanor brightened with hope. “I will also let you keep everything over the twenty-thousand. It will all be yours.”

Captain Beck raised an eyebrow as a smile slid across his face.

“I need to run back to my inn and take a nap,” Natia said as she picked up the pouch and rose to her feet. “The strain of all of this has been keeping me awake. I will meet you outside here at sunset.”

Natia turned and hurried out of the tavern before the captain had a chance to rethink his promise.

* * * *

Captain Gomery braced himself on the stairs as the ship lurched to port. He stared at the two mugs of hot tea in his hands and shook his head. As soon as the ship leveled out, he continued up the companionway. When he stepped out onto the deck, the wind hit him hard. He closed his eyes to mere slits as he made his way forward, leaning into the strong gusts. The Skate rocked from side to side as the heavy seas tried to drag the ship seaward, and Captain Gomery took small steps with his feet spread far apart. He eventually reached the bow and leaned one arm on the rail. He extended his other arm and offered a mug to the water witch.

“Some hot tea,” the captain said loudly.

“Thank you, Gomery,” replied Haditha. “How are the children?”

“Most of them are sick, poor things, but they are well behaved children. Syran is the closest thing they have to a father. He runs around comforting each of the sick ones.”

“Elves were never good sailors,” commented Haditha. “They like their feet firmly on the ground.”

For several minutes, neither of them spoke. Haditha guided the Skate through the rough seas, and Captain Gomery leaned on the rail and stared at his lover.

“Do you think we can outrun the storm?” the captain asked, breaking the silence.

“No,” Haditha replied without hesitation. “We will make it safely to Valdo, though. It is the trip back home that worries me.”

“Worries you?” balked the captain. “I thought you liked storms.”

“This is no ordinary storm, Gomery. This is a great storm that comes only once in a generation, and while I do enjoy storms, I never enjoy them while on a ship. It is very tiring to guide a ship through such tumultuous seas.”

“Especially a ship with such a low freeboard,” frowned the captain. “Do you think the Skate will hold together?”

“It is a gamble that we will have to take,” the water witch replied.

“I have been known to gamble on the fate of a ship before,” frowned the captain, “but I can’t say as I care much for gambling with the lives of children.”

“Well,” Haditha replied with a sigh, “we don’t really have any choice in the matter now, do we?”

* * * *

Tomar and Milashar were sitting in the Heart discussing the false path to Shark Point. Unexpectedly, unicorns began descending out of the canopy. The elves rose to their feet in alarm.

A chestnut unicorn approached the two elves. His eyes sparkled as he looked at the elves.

Greetings to the Dielderal. We have come to blaze a trail from the Heart to the sea. Who shall guide us?

Tomar stared with wide eyes as the unicorn’s words entered his head. He verbally stumbled for a moment before getting out the words. “I am Tomar. I have been chosen to guide you to Shark Point.”

Well met, Tomar. I am called Pylor, and I lead my people on this mission.

“You are early,” frowned the elf. “We were not expecting you until after nightfall.”

The trail will be easier to see in the daylight, and we are not needed to gather the children. Would you have us graze the day away?

“No,” Tomar replied quickly. “We are ready to proceed. I was just confused about the timing. Let me tell the others that we are to begin. I will return shortly.”

Tomar whistled loudly and the elves gathered in the center of the Heart. He explained that they were going to begin making the false path to Shark Point. When no one voiced any objections, Tomar returned to the chestnut unicorn.

“We are ready, Pylor. If you will follow me, I will show you the way.”

Follow you?
The unicorn snorted humorously.
Would it not be wiser to sit upon my back and tell me where to go?

Tomar regarded the words with awe. He had heard stories of the talking unicorns, and he knew that the foreign elves rode them, but he had not expected to receive such an invitation himself.

“I would be thrilled with such a privilege,” Tomar said with a bow of respect.

That pleases me. I do not think even the fastest elf could keep our pace.

Many of the nearby unicorns snorted with laughter, and Tomar felt blood flushing his face. He leaped onto the unicorn with mixed feelings of embarrassment and excitement.

You may talk verbally or in your mind, or you may merely rub one of your hands on my shoulders to indicate the direction you want me to go. Are you a capable rider?

“I have never ridden before,” admitted Tomar, hoping that such an admission would not cause the unicorn to reject him.

Then I shall start off slow. Hang on to my mane and grip my sides with your legs. I promise that you will not fall from my back.

The other elves watched with envy as Pylor carried Tomar out of the Heart. A herd of three-hundred unicorns followed the unicorn leader, and soon the forest thundered with the sound of beating hooves.

Pylor started slowly in the Heart, but he quickly picked up speed. Tomar clutched at the unicorn’s mane as Pylor raced ever faster. The elf turned and saw the horde of unicorns running behind him, and he shook his head in amazement. The ride had a surreal feeling to it, and Tomar soon found that his hands were no longer clutching the mane. He grinned broadly and shook his head, letting the wind catch his hair.

You adapt rather well, Tomar of the Dielderal.

“This is a wonderful feeling, Pylor. It must be what flying is like.”

Goodness no.
The unicorn snorted.
You will get to feel real flying later. There is nothing like it.

As Pylor sped through the woods, Tomar saw the bands of elves that were stationed along the trail. The elves waved to the unicorns as they sped by, and Tomar thought that he could feel joy in the unicorns each time the elves waved.

Behind the herd of unicorns, elven mages periodically stepped onto the trail and cast spells of wind to smooth the churned up path. As soon as the mages stopped casting their spells, runners stepped onto the smooth soil and ran the length of their designated section. As each section of the trail was completed, the mage and the runners headed into the trees for the journey to their designated pick up spot.