Mud
Book Three of The Trees Series
by N. D. Hansen-Hill
***
Dedication
To my children - Tamsyn, Travers, Tashley, Tesslyn - and their mud. May their hands never come completely clean…
***
**Author's Note**
Mud originated as part of Shades, which is now book four of this series. As Shades grew, it quickly got out of control, and finally burst, exploding into two books. There were too many words, and too much action, to be accommodated in a single epic adventure. If a few ends remain dangling, rest assured that they will be resolved. The manner of resolution, however, is another story…
***
Mud
Within us each still sits a child
Whose earthbound spirit once ran wild,
To revel in lesser things of worth -
The wind, the rain, the rich dark earth.
*
Drawn to the essence from which they rose,
Muddying hands and fingers, feet and toes;
For the child it's not mind-shattering news,
That they've risen from primordial ooze.
*
Is race memory caught in those lifeless layers?
Do we need to touch what has gone before?
To feel and trace the clay-wrought patterns -
Of the no-longer-living who form our core?
*
Or is there safety in the inanimate,
That we can chip and churn and dominate?
To mould or pulverise at will,
Needing only a flair for destructive skill.
*
If it all should change and go awry,
If the bad ones win and the good ones die,
If the fire burns but does not consume,
And a cherub's kiss is the bite of doom?
*
If the mud should flow in a pensive course,
To lash at you with disastrous force?
Natural laws twisted and run amok
And survival keyed to speed and luck?
*
Would you flee the battle and end the strife,
Run from predators and win your life?
Or stay and fight, in a useless duel,
Like the headstrong child, the wilful fool?
*
by N. D. Hansen-Hill
***
Prologue
Long ago, a cluster of seeds found their way through a dimensional portal, to germinate in Earthen soils under a yellow sun. More than likely, the passage was accidental - the seeds somehow clinging to fur or rough clothing - to be flung to the ground upon arrival in this world. The touch of the Earth was magic: the age-old magic of germinating root and stem. The seedlings flourished, growing aloft to take and hold their small stand of ground. They spread outward from the portal, and became its sentinels: their strangeness kindling a fearful response, that provided a safety zone for those travelling the portal, against the likelihood of discovery.
Beings of the Earth were unaware of this dimensional easement, having no vision to see the glowing lights, nor hearing capable of acknowledging the gate's powerful roar. Earthlings recognised only a feeling of discomfort in the vicinity of the portal, and were made uneasy by the strange responses of watches and compasses to the electromagnetism of the place. Only those with the genetic make-up to travel the gate, could actually be witness to it.
Through the years, the secret of the portal became known to a few, mainly through their own folly. Burning the wood from the Trees gave rise to a genetic mutation, that altered all who inhaled the smoke. Mutants could see, and hear, and walk, where no Earthling had been able to go - to use dimensional portals to journey to and through worlds that humankind had only imagined.
Humans were not alone in traversing dimensions. Many of their companions bore similarities to creatures named in human mythology and tradition - creatures who had dwelt briefly on the earth, then gone on to unknown destinations. Humankind pronounced them dead, or non-existent. Mutant humans merely shook their heads, and waited for the inevitable day when they would meet these creatures, in their world or others.
The changes in the human form incited pity in some, envy or greed in others. Peter, Trevor, Katy, and Mari were the most recent victims of smoke from the Trees, and had suffered at the hands of their fellow humans, who wanted to harness and use this latest genetic mutation.
Through shared effort, and with the help of staunch allies, they'd survived. And, somehow, in the hours of fear and risk, these allies had become more than that - they'd become friends. Among them were Thyme and Lily - two fairies who had offered help and received it, in a give-and-take effort that had forged a strong bond between humans and off-worlders. Other helpers, from gnomes to gargoyles, had risked their freedom, and shown that kinship is more than a genetic linkage.
Their worst enemy had been another mutant, whose genetic alteration had been rough and painful - lacking the smoothness of those whose cells linked smoke and air. In battling this monstrous entity, many trans-dimensional helpers had been called into the fracas, to salvage the lives of those they had come to value, and call friend.
Now, the victors rest. The Trees stand quietly, while people born in two worlds romp and play, enjoying the novelty of their Earthly visit.
***
Chapter One
Peter shook his head as he carefully manoeuvred through the ruins of his front hall. After a few days of climbing in and out of the holes held together by carpet, he was developing a steeple-chasing technique of leaping from one firm place to the next. He entered the lounge, momentarily relieved to find it near-empty, then panicking as he wondered where all the usual inhabitants had cavorted off to, and what trouble they were likely to be in.
Katy was there, and he was amazed to find two wongnits sharing the big wing chair with her. Melpis was draped across Katy's lap - her head and tail flopping awkwardly over the chair arms. She was crooning in contentment, as Katy stroked her furry coat, while Deron paced restlessly back and forth across the couch, up onto the chair back and down again. He was waiting for Melpis to tire of this, so they could play. What Deron really wanted was to swing from the curtains and curtain rods, but the humans were watching, and certain activities were best reserved for those wonderful moments when humans were busy doing something else.
"Hello, Love -" Katy reached out a hand to Peter, the glow in her eyes brightening at the sight of him.
He couldn't believe how beautiful she looked to him. The green of her skin held a bluish tinge, that mingled with a golden cast to make her appear like some rare being in ornamental plumage. "What are you thinking about, Peter?" She tilted her head, giving him a joyful smile.
"How exotic you look, Katy-my-love."
She frowned. "Exotic. That's just another way of saying strange. Maybe freakish would be a better word."
Peter came over, using one hand to shove Deron off the back of the chair, and the other (while he had Katy occupied with a kiss), to push the near-somnolent Melpis on to the floor. On hearing a hiss, he looked at Melpis, saying simply but firmly, "Mine." Then he turned back to Katy, tugging a waist-length piece of hair out to study it, then moving it aside to trail kisses across her neck.
"You're changing the subject," she said.
"What subject?" he muttered.
"Of my looks. And what you think of them."
Peter cleared his throat. He hated this topic. Whatever he said always seemed to get him in trouble. But now, he felt he had a safe answer. "I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Katherine Ryder." He smiled, anticipating a warm response in return.
Instead, he sensed Katy was near tears. "But, Peter," she asked, "didn't you think I was beautiful before?"
Trevor came bounding in then - hesitating when he realised he was interrupting something. "I'm sorry, you two." He grinned apologetically. "Sometimes I forget this is your house."
Katy felt embarrassed. Putting her arms around Peter to give him a squeeze, her glance a quick apology, she said to Trevor, "If you ever apologise for being here again, Trev - either you or Mari - I'll turn you so many colours of the rainbow -" she grinned as she wiggled her fingers at him in the mock threat, "- that not even Mari will be able to change you back. Got it?"
Trevor looked at his green frame. "Hey, that might not be a bad idea. This green is passé." He looked pointedly at Katy. "It used to be relatively rare, but now every Thomasina, Richelle, and Harriette is wearing it." Mari strolled into the room, and his eyes followed her. "Although, I must admit, it looks much better on you two than on the originals."
"What looks better?" Mari looked around at the others.
"Green," Peter said. "I was in the middle of telling Katy she's a rare beauty, when Trevor came in and spoiled my line. It was an emotionally moving moment -"
"More like bowel-moving, if that was the end of it I heard." Trevor sank down into a chair, and tugged Mari into his lap: something that was quickly becoming a habit. "You just don't understand women, Peter. Mari -"
She turned to look him in the eyes.
"- here, knows I adore her. Now that this has all happened -" he waved his arm to indicate their four green forms, "I don't see why we can't make your upcoming nuptials a foursome. What do you say, Mari?" Mari had stiffened while he was speaking. Now, she looked at him, her eyes bereft, then stumbled from the room.
Katy looked at Trevor, her expression aghast. "Oh, Trevor!" she said. "How could you be so insensitive?" She disengaged herself from Peter's arms and ran after Mari.
Trevor buried his face in his hands. "Jeez, Pete! What did I say?" He looked at his friend, and his expression would have been comical if he weren't so upset.
*
Mari ran out of the lounge, and stumbled across the hole-ridden hallway. She headed toward the rear, and the door that led down to where the kitchen used to be. As she slammed the door some part of her was anticipating the satisfying crunch of wood ramming wood. The soft closing of the door did nothing to soothe her temper.
Mari turned to see Katy and the two wongnits. The wongnits scampered rapidly ahead, down the well-worn path to the woods, already anticipating the joyful teasing of a certain purple cat-beast. Katy moved quietly into step with Mari.
Sighing, Mari accepted that her moment alone, to think things through, was not to be. She was destined to have Katy's company, whether she wanted it or not. Of course, Katy would go if I hinted her away. But, she admitted, Katy's silence would be preferable to a lonely mulling over of the turmoil in her romantic life.
As long as Katy doesn't say anything to try to make me feel better.
Katy didn't. She understood more than Mari thought, about how Trevor's seeming nonchalance had hurt her - Mari - making her feel as though he was making an offer because she was the only one around, rather than because she was special - and the only one - for him. Katy had known Trevor for a long time, and had sensed his nervousness when he'd made his suggestion. She knew that it signified just how important to him Mari's answer really was. But mentioning his nervousness to Mari would only make her feel worse: not only had he thrown the offer in her face, but he'd been nervous about doing it, as though it was something he really wasn't sure about. You really blew it, Trev, she thought.
*
Thyme flew into the room from where he'd been lingering in the doorway. "You derriere-brain!" But he sat on Trevor's shoulder in commiseration. "I'm having problems with Lily, too," he admitted. "She's so stand-offish that she's driving me mad!"
"Well, your arrival saved me, Trev. Katy had just asked me one of those 'damned-if-I-answer, damned-if-I-don't' questions about her looks, and I never get those right." Peter looked at Thyme. "I don't know what's wrong with Lily, Thyme, but Katy and Mari are feeling really insecure about their looks right now. I can sense it."
"That's right." Trevor nodded. "If Mari knew how much courage it took for me to ask her -"
Peter grinned. "Inexperience will tell."
"Oh, yeah," Trevor said sourly. "The voice of Mr. Experience."
"Well, at least, Katy's agreed to marry me -" Peter said quickly, then immediately regretted it.
Trevor lost his temper. "Well, agreeing is not the same as saying, 'I do', is it?" he said huffily.
"That's nothing!" Thyme said miserably. "Lily's already said, 'I don't'." His words shocked the other two into momentary silence.
"That's impossible!" Peter said. "We all know the way she feels about you. Her aura goes all pink whenever you're around -"
Thyme buzzed over to zap Peter on the shoulder. "Don't go making comments about Lily's aura!"
Peter rubbed his shoulder, which was still stinging. "All I meant, you little moron, is that it's obvious she's crazy about you."
Trevor concurred. "I, personally, can't figure out why, but she thinks you're something special."
"Well, maybe Mari has figured out how stupid and dull you really are, Butthead, and that's why she won't have anything to do with you."
"Low blow, Fairy," Peter commented.
"And, maybe, Lily has just figured out what a two-faced, fickle, hot-headed, rotten little pus-head you are, Thyme. She could do better fishing something out of the toilet -"
Thyme attacked Trevor, hitting him with such force that the chair was bowled over backwards. "And, maybe, if I mess you up enough -" the fairy panted, "- Mari will feel so sorry for you that you'll be able to con her into spending some of her valuable time with you -"
"And we'll see how Lily likes you without any wings -"
Peter decided he'd better interrupt them. As Thyme drew back for another high-powered dive-bombing attack, Peter helped Trevor to his feet, then placed himself between the two. Thyme laughed gleefully, then barrelled into Peter. The two humans went over backwards.
Trevor pushed Peter off him. "Dammit, Peter! I can fight my own battles - get your big butt off me!"
"Don't take your bad temper and romantic inadequacies out on me, Trev!"
Trevor opened his mouth to make a sarcastic comment, just as Thyme - wings sparking - buzzed in with a special delivery message of his own.
Suddenly, the three of them froze. A series of shrill screams shattered the stillness of the afternoon.
*
Mari was heading for the woods - wanting to enjoy the spectacle of the fairies at play, before going to watch the lights of the gates. She had yet to experience dimensional travel, and the possibilities fascinated her, besides giving her something to take her mind away from the emotional ups-and-downs of her relationship with Trevor.
The fairies, including Thyme's father - Aristi - had found these woods, with their odd insects, small mammals, and spicily-scented foliage, to be a place rich with possibility, and Mari derived pleasure now from the bright sparkles that darted in and out amidst the branches. Winged horses could be seen balancing in leafy arbours in the canopy, and Mari smiled when Symmerley and Zylon popped their heads out to issue their oddly echoing call in recognition. The leaves encircling their necks reminded her of the wreathes borne by winning racehorses, and the thought of what havoc these two would wreak in a race made her chuckle. She turned to Katy, wanting to share the analogy with her.
But Katy was absorbed in reflections of her own. As she walked at Mari's side now, her silence was no longer out of respect for Mari's unhappiness, but out of a growing feeling of discomfort. A queer heaviness hung in the air, that had been so light and sunny a moment before, and she found herself searching her surroundings for the cause. "Do you feel it, Mari?"
The intensity was growing now, and Katy breathed faster to compensate for the density of the air: inhaling in short, sharp breaths. The sense of oppression was growing stronger, and Mari, coming out of her absorption with the fairies, and the winged horses, began to realise something was amiss, and looked at her strangely. "Katy?" she said.
Katy didn't answer. The compaction of the atmosphere was restricting her senses - to a plane of reality beyond the forest, the shrubbery, her friend at her side. The world was unaltered, yet not the same - a pitch of sound, a sense of movement, a recognition of being that had not yet formed was patterned on the thickened stillness of busy air.
Katy suddenly became aware of other activity - a disruption of that eerie plane of being that she had briefly visited - and in a shocking moment of recognition, she realised that Mari was shaking her, shouting at her. As her eyes cleared, and she returned to trees, fairies, and the late summer day, it was as though a dam broke, somewhere in the atmosphere, and all hell broke loose. An icy torrent of wind, at odds with the laws of nature, exploded into the confines of their forest surroundings, with the strength of a hurricane. Mari's and Katy's screams were lost in the mix of a dozen others, as the torturous avalanche of pressure dragged humans, fairies, flying horses, cat-beast, and wongnits, sweeping them down and under a stand of trees whose emptiness had held no interest for the dimensional travellers - where ribbons of light laced in arcing swathes, and the sparkling of the portal between worlds formed a focal point for those able to see it.
The swift passage of the oddly-assorted victims caused them to spin and swirl - mingling flashes of luminescent white with the sharp spark of fairy wings, green skin with the furred blur of a tumbling wongnit. The inexorable force, that had entrapped them so firmly, now cast them like so much rubbish underneath the stark white trees - and through the brilliant lights of the multi-coloured gate. The clap of wind emitted a high-pitched whine as it pounded the portal, to cease just as it would have entered the gate. The sudden reversal of pressure, as the occupants were dumped from one world to the next, left more than one creature gasping. The trail of their passage was littered with leaves and branches, small shrubs and grass clumps - in addition to the tattered, bewildered, and now abandoned - insects, birds, and small mammals, of the world they'd just left behind.
*
Within the soil, beneath the trees who'd just been stripped of their inhabitants - earthly or otherwise - a fungal spore swelled. The imbibement of moisture from its surroundings was triggered by some impulse: a change in pressure, a compression of its being in the great thunderclap of movement. The moisture allowed it, in the way of its kind, to take advantage of the environment in which it now resided. A germ tube emerged, snaking its way along as it grew, leaching soil-bound nutrients and drawing them through its cell wall, and then across its cell membrane into its cytoplasm. The nutrients it sought, and absorbed most readily, were sugars. It followed the gradient - which, to this creature, was as obvious as a broad river spilling out of its headwaters - of sugars to the source: a tall, healthy, broad-leafed tree, whose roots exuded nutrients during their interactions with the soil.
As the fungus tapped the life of this planet, so it grew, entering the tree to traverse its tissues with side-shoots and branchlets of its own, that furrowed deep ravines into the rich heart of the tree's nutrient pathways, to steal away those elements the fungal hypha needed to sustain its being, but could never produce on its own.
At a certain point, when the balance of nutrients it required, weighed unfavourably against those the tree had left to offer, a new growth pattern began, with a thickening of tissues, followed by the emergence of aerial branched plantlets, heavily-laden with seedlike spores. The blue of the spores echoed that of the skies, as they were explosively released, to sift down through the forest. These spores, nurtured on the products of this world, germinated rapidly, unlike their predecessor. Their widely-dispersed pattern could soon be detected - on leaves, branches, and any remaining forest refuse - as they silently grew, consumed, and reproduced: expanding their colonial claims outward through their defenceless victims.
*
Thyme, by virtue of flight, was the first one out the door. He circled, confused - trying to determine what had happened. The day was fine - the warmth of this world's sun bringing out rich colours and scents. The others had been in the forest, playing in the trees. His subconscious had registered this as part of the ever-present background "noise" that awareness such as his must constantly filter, in order to function in the present - in order to act himself, rather than just succumb to the danger of living vicariously, through the sensing of others. But now, there were no others - only emptiness. He should be able to focus on them - especially the fairies - especially Lily and his father.
Peter and Trevor raced out of the house, leaping off the porch to look at Thyme for information, expecting his more highly-developed senses to deny what their own were telling them. "Where are they, Thyme?" Peter asked urgently.
The fairy's confusion mirrored his own. "I do not know, Peter Trevick. But they are no longer here -"
"That's impossible!" Trevor interrupted. "There must be something blocking our senses. I say we go have a look. Even if they went for a walk or something, they couldn't have gone far." He started jogging along the path, looking for clues, and neither asked him which two he was concentrating on.
As Peter followed, he yelled to Thyme, asking simply, "Lily? Aristi?" Thyme shook his head over two of the people who meant the most in his life, but said nothing. As Trevor scanned the ground, and the road ahead, for some indication of which direction Mari and Katy had headed, Thyme flew swiftly to the trees, to skim through in a rapid search. Peter, looking out across the countryside, spotted the swath of litter and debris - some of it moving - as the small animals who'd been carried along in the wake of the wind now scurried to safety. He grabbed Trevor's arm, pointing, and Trevor glanced quickly at him, his own face serious, as they raced over the uneven ground.
Peter looked back at the forest, and concentrated briefly to summon the fairy. His trained eyes noted how the damage began at the trees, then formed a huge trail down toward the place where the gate was located. Thyme, coming from the forest, and seeing Peter's gestures, needed no further explanations. He raced ahead of them, moving swiftly in the direction of the gate.
***
Chapter Two
The beings of Thyme's world were swiftly jettisoned into the marshy softness of boggy terrain, causing swirls of mist to spiral upwards into the cool air. Katherine Ryder quickly followed, having travelled the portal before; seasoning her so her passage was fairly rapid, and leaving her with only a slight headache to mark her passing. She arose cautiously, uncertain what to expect, and listened for the sounds of Mari's arrival, which she knew were soon to come.
Mari smacked into the soft wet ground, that stunk of marsh mud, the smell of it adding to the nauseating discomfort of her first journey through the gate. She lay unhappily on the clammy ground, nursing her headache and wishing the ground didn't stink so damned much. "It'll pass," Katy whispered, uncertain of the wisdom of using a louder voice in this place. She stayed with Mari, aware of the fear integral to those first few moments of helplessness, when the unknown lurked so glaringly in every direction, and which the new traveller lacked momentary ability to combat.
When Mari stirred, lifting herself to a sitting position, Katy left her, to check on the others. She found Aristi sodden and mud-coated, his eyes flashing red tinges in his annoyance, and she was amazed at how much he resembled Thyme in his rebel mode. A smile quirked her lips, but she quickly suppressed it, sensing that the older fairy was also the source of at least some of his son's hot temper, and would hardly appreciate a comparison to Thyme's wild side right now.
Mari came up beside her, and caught sight of Aristi herself. She was startled out of an involuntary "Oh, God!" as she saw the similarity to his son.
Katy had to turn away - fighting for control over the mirth that threatened to explode at Aristi's huffy look. She murmured to Mari, "And with all that marsh mud coating him, I'll bet he even smells like his son!"
Lily flew up to them then, drawn by the laughter they were fighting to conceal. Hiding behind the two humans, she allowed herself a small grin. "It is amazing, is it not?" Her eyes danced, but her voice grew serious. "He is very angry with you. He feels he has been forced from your world -"
"Evicted?"
Lily nodded.
Katy turned to Aristi. She told him formally, "Aristi, if you were banished from our world, then so, indeed, were we. I will not accept your anger." She stood staunchly before him, having come to realise over the past several days that this fairy appreciated a show of strength. Lily fluttered anxiously nearby, and Mari looked at Katy in surprise.
Aristi flew forward, to tweak one of her muddy locks, his eyes no longer glowing red. Smiling, he said to her, "Very well, Katherine Ryder. But -" as a frown darkened his face, "- why were you laughing? Is my appearance so amusing to you, then?"
Katy decided honesty was her best defence. "Aristi, when you're scruffy and dirty like that, you're very much like -"
"- my son?" The fairy grinned. "Are you trying to insult me, Katherine?" he inquired, even as Lily flared in defiance of the mocking note in his voice. Aristi looked at Lily, pleased that she resented this criticism of his son, but he was answered by Katy.
She said seriously to him, "If I've compared you with Thyme, Aristi, then you should feel fortunate. For, even at his dingy worst, I count Thyme as my friend. If you're insulted by comparison with him, I think it must be because the balance is disparaging to you."
Aristi, unexpectedly, laughed. "Cool the red in your eyes, Katherine. The gold is much more appealing. I am glad to see that my son has inspired such loyalty in his friends." He came closer to the three of them. "I was such as he in my youth. I wished him to be spared the trouble and hostility created in following the dictates of his temper, rather than his head. But -" he sighed, giving Lily a warm smile, "perhaps the dictates of his heart will teach him to combine the two."
Mari had been prudently quiet during the brief exchange, realising that Katy's and Lily's tempers would be more than a match for Aristi's. Now, she cleared her throat, to interrupt - seeing all this as secondary to the more important issue of where they were and - as her hands attempted, somewhat unsuccessfully, to discreetly cover her nakedness - whether it was safe. As a first-time dimensional traveller, she felt terribly uncertain and more than a little frightened of the unknowns in this place, and was surprised that Katy didn't feel the same. She supposed that Katy's journeys - into the Sylybin world - had been so frightening that this must seem like a casual jaunt. But Mari - who loved mystery as long as it could be expected to follow some type of logical framework - knew that the natural laws she accepted did not apply here. She looked off into the mist, jumping when a nearby tree suddenly burst into flame.
The others jumped, too. But Katy's comment, "How incredibly beautiful!" was hardly the appropriate reaction in Mari's mind.
"For God's sake, Katy! We don't even know where we are! How can you stand there admiring the scenery!" she snapped.
Aristi looked at her, and she shifted her arms to achieve better concealment of her physical attributes. "This is your first spanning of dimensions?" he inquired kindly.
She nodded miserably. Zylon came up behind her then, soundless in the muck, to nuzzle her back with his horselike head. She jumped, emitting a small shriek. Immediately embarrassed by this weak display, she buried her face in the esquior's neck, and he nuzzled her again to reassure her.
Katy put a comforting arm across Mari's shoulders. Katy's enthusiasm was like the twanging of an off-key violin string against Mari's nerve endings, but she nevertheless appreciated her friend's gesture.
"What is this place?" Katy asked excitedly. "Have you been here before?"
Lily shook her head. "I do not know, Katherine, but it is, as you have said, very beautiful."
Katy turned to Aristi. "Do you know where we are? Are there any dangers?" she added, remembering her time in the Sylybin world. "Any hazards we need to watch for?"
Aristi looked momentarily uncomfortable. There were rumours that some fairies had ventured here, to fulfil a need. Aristi's aura took on a slight blush as he recalled the reason. The problem had never been his: to admit knowledge might, indeed, indicate some personal concern. He could not recollect any specific hazards associated with a visit, but, then, a visit here was never followed by much discussion. Generally, sly sniggers were the only reference.
He considered hinting at the possibilities to the many beings now entrusted to his guidance, then decided against it. Any problems that might arise, as a result of this "visit" would occur after they'd returned home. Certainly not something to mention now: not when they'd been stranded here. There would be plenty of time to discuss these matters with his fairies later.
Mari fidgeted, and Aristi realised she and Katy were still waiting for his answer. He flared brightly, then cooled his aura. He could detect nothing untoward. Of the life forms revealed to his senses, none held the sensory patterns he associated with predators.
The fairy relaxed, his self-assurance coming to the fore. Surely, any hazards worth worrying about would be revealed to his senses far enough in advance for all to avoid them. Aristi smiled at Mari's agitated shuffling. "I sense nothing that could endanger either fairies or esquiors," he said.
Melpis came up then, her hands full of mud. For one who enjoyed making splatty mudballs, this, indeed, was paradise. "What about wongnits, cat-beasts, and humans?" Katy pushed.
Aristi had a bit of devilry in his eyes now. Staring at the wongnit disgustedly, he admitted, "There should be no problem for Cyrnol or the wongnits, either."
"And humans?" Katy emphasised it for Mari's benefit.
"Well," Aristi stalled, and Katy knew he was enjoying Mari's discomfiture. Mari shifted uncomfortably, eyes slightly wild as she searched the swirling fog. In answer, Aristi called to her. "Mari Sullivan!" She looked at him quickly, afraid to take her glance from her surroundings for too long. "Confine your thoughts to the real, and the now, instead of the 'what could be'. There is not much here to fear."
Mari nodded, slightly ashamed of her nervousness. Shifting her concentration, she looked around for something to conceal her body, so she could free her hands.
Katy giggled. "Mari," she said softly, "for heaven's sake! You're a doctor!"
"That," Mari answered grouchily, "helps me ignore your nakedness. It doesn't help me ignore my own."
"Just think of yourself as dressed in mud. Though," she glanced at Mari, smiling, "you've wiped some of it off in your efforts to conceal yourself. Here -" she stooped down, snatching a large mud ball that made Melpis eye her in admiration, "- have some more!" Laughing, she chucked it at Mari, splatting mud down her front.
Mari, annoyed, snapped at Katy. "Not funny. I hardly think this is the time for juvenile behaviour, Katy. We don't even know where we are or how we got here."
"You're right, Mari," Katy said, attempting to look contrite, but the lights glittering in her eyes gave her away. As she turned back toward Aristi, she shot a grin at Mari, who was still frowning. "Don't look now, Mar, but I think it worked. You've got your hands on your hips now instead of trying to cover everything else." To the fairy, she asked, "Aristi, how did we get here? When we went through the gate, I was terrified we'd end up in the Shimmer's gullet."
The fairy had been enjoying the interplay between the two humans. Now, his face grew serious. "We were banished through the other side of the gate - the portal that leads to this place." He looked around at the densely swirling fog, topped by the cool clarity of the darkening sky - growing lighter from the effects of the triple moons. "I have never been here before," he emphasised, "but it has been visited by my people."
"And our return?" Mari asked the question softly, wanting some reassurance. The dense fog reminded Mari of too many horror movies she'd seen, where some unknown attacked out of the invisibility provided by the white mass.
Aristi smiled, sensing the keenness of her worry, and how she was battling to appear as casual as the others. "Mari Sullivan, the return to your homeland will, indeed, require some peril." Mari's eyes widened. "These channels between worlds are seldom direct, but -" he came forward to hover near her face, "- it is enough, is it not, that they exist?" The glow in his eyes was kind. "The joining of our worlds offers us much, I think."
Mari looked at Lily's bright aura, the bouncing of a wongnit head through the fog as Deron wrestled with Melpis, Symmerley's eyes meeting hers across the distance. Katy slipped a hand into hers, squeezing firmly, before releasing it. Whatever they encountered, they'd all be in it together. Mari squared her shoulders, and her smile this time held no artifice, no camouflage to mask her fears. "Yes, Aristi, more than I could ever have imagined," she replied. Her smile faded as she thought of their arrival here. "But, what I don't understand, is why we're here. And," she said, remembering Katy's strangeness beforehand, "what happened to you, Katy?"
"To me?" Katy looked confused.
"Yes. Don't you remember?" Katy shook her head. It was her turn to feel uncomfortable. All the others were watching her now. Even the wongnits, sensing something of interest occurring, edged closer to listen. Mari said to her, "Tell me what happened when we left the house -"
"I followed you, because I thought you might want company -" Katy glanced around at the group, not wanting to say more in front of the others. Mari smiled her appreciation. "I remember, I was looking out, across the tall grass -" Katy's voice dwindled to silence.
Mari put her hands on Katy's shoulders, as she had when she'd tried to shake her back to awareness. "Do you remember this? My shaking you?"
Katy nodded, her eyes sparkling now with multi-coloured tones that darted in amongst pulsing gold. Aristi came forward, asking, "What was it, Katherine? What did you see?"
The memory came back, and Katy sought for words to share it with the others. "It was as if something had been superimposed on the present." She hesitated. "Some part of me recognised that it was still sunny outside, but all I could see was a kind of cold darkness." She gave an involuntary shudder. "There were hints of movement I couldn't quite see - sounds I couldn't quite hear -" She looked around at the others, frustrated at her inability to make them understand. "I could feel a thickness in the air - a pressure. The air was so heavy, that I couldn't breathe -" She lowered her eyes, feeling foolish. "That was when I realised Mari was shaking me. And then," she waved her hand to indicate their surroundings, "we were all picked up and tossed here." She looked embarrassed. Lily, sensing this, said nothing, but settled on to her shoulder, her aura warming Katy, making her feel less ill at ease.
It was Mari's turn to offer Katy's hand a quick squeeze of reassurance. She smiled at her. "You were wearing what my grandmother used to call a 'fey' look, Katy." Mari turned to Aristi. "Didn't you sense anything? Have any warning?" Seeing the fairy start to don his huffy look once more, she altered her approach. "You're so much more highly attuned to your surroundings than we are, Aristi."
When the fairy shook his head, Katy asked, almost desperately, "You felt nothing? What about the other fairies?" She looked then to the esquiors, and the great purple cat-beast, but Symmerley shook his head, while Cyrnol merely closed his glowing eyes. Katy even glanced at the wongnits, who'd returned to writhing around in the fog, then realised that was a hopeless line of inquiry. She sighed, and asked Aristi, "Why me?"
"Fairies are attuned to creatures from many worlds, Katherine. Perhaps this was a natural event, such as a great wind or storm, that occasionally rocks your world?"
Mari nodded excitedly. "A small tornado, Katy. What you sensed was the pressure change happening, right before the wind started."
Katy thought about it, her face brightening at this explanation. Then, she sobered, as she remembered her feelings directly before the wind had hit. "It's just -" she hesitated, uncertain how to say it, "- there was something more - it was as though there were shadows, voices -" She shrugged, unwillingly to say more. I should have let the weather explanation stand, she thought. Looking at the group, she noted that all the fairies, and most of the esquiors, had moved much closer - to listen in on their conversation. She noted, unhappily, the derisive looks on several faces. They think I'm just another crazy human, caught up in - the humour of this situation broke in, as she realised where her thoughts were taking her - "caught up in fairy tales". Her smile broke out, as she looked at the unusual company.
Aristi was happy to see the smile, but realised his next words could well cause this human unhappiness. However, she must be warned. "Katherine -" She turned his way, the smile still lingering in her eyes. "There is another explanation." Katy tensed. The fairy continued softly, "Whatever force sent us this way, plucked us from your world, to toss us out, as refuse. We are all here -" He glanced around, noting that all who had entered the human dimension, save Thyme, were accounted for.
Mari understood what he was trying to say. "In other words, if a tornado came through, you'd expect it to be less selective: for some of your people to be left behind." He nodded. "But, Aristi, if this was just a freak storm, it may have started at the trees where you were playing -" she saw the annoyed look on his face, and changed the words, "- where you were exploring, then caught us up as it swept the rest of the way downhill."
It was Katy who interrupted. "It wasn't a storm," she said miserably. "I don't know what it was, but it wasn't a tornado. It - it was too alive for that."
Aristi nodded, and Lily looked frightened. "I think, perhaps, you are right, Katherine." He flew closer to the human, wanting her to look at him. "But your term 'alive' might not be the correct one, Katy Ryder." He chucked her under the chin, forcing her to raise her head from where she'd lowered it in her embarrassment. "Fairies are able to sense living entities, Human. I think the being that did this -" his arm swept the group, "- was powerful, but no longer among the creatures that walk your Earth."
Katy's eyes pulsed in multi-coloured hues once more as the fairy's words allowed her to acknowledge a thought that had been lurking in her subconscious. Now, she spoke with certainty, and not a little fear. "It evicted us," she said quietly. "It wanted us gone, so that we couldn't stop it."
Mari interrupted. "If we're talking ghosts, here, I, personally don't believe in them."
"And you do believe in fairies, Mari?" Lily chided her gently. "Mari, belief in spirits would make your work very difficult, I think. If I were a healer, I would not like to think of those beings whose life forces had slipped away." She hovered before Mari now, appealing to her reason. "But when you heal, do you not call to some force within the injured being, and when that force has left him, do you not sense an emptiness, as though the force had gone elsewhere?" Mari nodded. "Well, then, is it not sensible to consider that some of these forces remain nearby? This is the way in our world, and for those able to see, it can be a difficult thing, distinguishing the living from the dead."
This last was too much for Mari to accept. "Surely the dead look different from the living. I'm sorry, Lily, but I just can't believe that something dead could have that much influence over the living - enough to do this -" She indicated the group encircling her.
Katy's face was serious as she looked back at the glowing gate. "Maybe you're right, Mari, and it was a freak 'natural' happening. But -" she looked unhappy, "- if it was a tornado, then something bizarre triggered it." She murmured softly, "Call it 'fey', if you want, but I just wish it had included all of us -"
*
"They've been carried through the gate -" Thyme began, but Trevor quickly interrupted.
"But that means the Shimmer -" Trevor's eyes met Peter's, whose own widened in horror. The two started toward the gate, oblivious to all else, save the urgency of the situation.
Thyme darted in front of them, causing them to flinch back. "They're not in the Shimmer's gullet, but you two toad tushes will be, if you don't listen!"
Peter gripped Trevor firmly by the shoulder. He could sense Trev's impatience, that mirrored his own. Only Peter's hold kept Trev from ignoring Thyme's advice.
"All right, Thyme, but tell us fast!" Peter demanded.
"They didn't go through the Shimmer side of the gate," Thyme said calmly.
"Well, that's comforting!" Trevor said sarcastically. "Where the hell are they, then?"
"In a safe place," Thyme said irritatingly. He gave Trevor a smirk.
But it was Peter who snatched him from the air, to shove the fairy's face in his own.
Trevor was amazed. If he'd done that, Thyme would have zapped him silly.
Peter's voice was calm, but deadly serious. "We -" he inclined his head in Trevor's direction, "- have neither the benefit of your insight, nor your knowledge of the gates, Thyme. We feel as you did a few minutes ago when you were worried about Lily and Aristi. Now, we need to know what's happening. Out with it!"
Thyme looked slightly remorseful.
Jeez, he's changed, thought Trevor.
"The portal leads to a world that has often been visited by fairies," Thyme boasted. He couldn't remember why, so he added, "For its unusual nature."
"Unusual nature?" Peter asked.
Thyme ignored the question, since he didn't know the answer, anyway. Instead, he added reassuringly, "I think if anyone had been injured, you, or I, would be aware of it." He grinned. "Therefore, they are safe, and in a location -" the fairy's eyes sparkled, "- best known for its -" he hesitated, not quite certain what to say. He remembered there were rumours about this place, but the rumours were always accompanied by sniggers of snide amusement. As a boy, it had been enough to encourage him to mark this dimension as one he must one day visit. Well, today was the day.
"Best known for its what?" Peter asked, still worried.
Thyme thought for a moment, but nothing particular came to mind. However, if other fairies went there, it must be good. He added confidently, "- its scenic wonders."
"Sounds like a travelogue," Peter muttered.
Trevor rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Sounds like my kind of place," he said. "Is it romantic, Thyme?" he asked hopefully. "You and I could do with a little help in the romance department."
Peter had released the fairy, who now buzzed over to pinch Trevor's nose, then dodged away before the human could grab him. Hovering just out of reach, he replied, "Speak for yourself, Worthless. Lily will only be able to resist for so long. Then, she will return the promise I have given her." His voice was confident.
Trevor, rubbing his sore nose, commented, "We humans don't have a fairy's cockiness," he said sourly. "A race isn't won until you're in the winner's circle."
Peter had been thinking about what they were saying. "Maybe you can't win because you're not running." Both of his friends looked affronted. "Hey, don't look at me like that! What I mean is, Trevor has the right idea when he talks about needing romance."
"I'm already romantic!" Trevor protested. "I grab Mari every chance I get." He smiled, thinking about it.
Peter snorted. "That's horny - not romantic, you fool!"
"Yeah, you fool!" Thyme echoed.
Peter turned to him. "And what about you, Thyme? Half the time you're all goo-goo about Lily, and the rest of the time you act like she doesn't even exist. No wonder she doesn't trust you -"
"Mari seems to like it when I grab her." Trevor was still bothered by what Peter had said.
"Well, take this situation. What happens when you go through the gate?" Peter asked patiently of his headstrong friend.
"You get a headache, and feel sick - when you first go through, of course."
Peter sighed. "What else?"
Trevor thought about it. Thyme grew impatient, and yanked on his shirt. "Your clothes, Chuckhead."
"Yeah, that's right." He thought of Mari. "Talk about your scenic wonders! Let's go!" he said excitedly.
"Trev! How's Mari going to feel?"
Trevor's face fell. "You're right, Pete. She's going to be embarrassed."
"Right. And so, in consideration of her, you should ignore it. And maybe even help her find something to cover herself."
"Jeez, Pete. Talk about embarrassing - how am I going to hide the way I feel?"
Peter's eyes sparkled. "That's your problem, Trev. I have enough of my own." He chuckled. "This romance business goes beyond that, though. Katy's clued me in on a bunch of things. She's told me it means a lot to know I've been thinking about her, and she gets all weepy - you know, the happy kind - when I bring her little gifts and things, to show that she was on my mind. Or thoughtful gestures - you know, making her a cup of tea or whatever - to show she's special to me. And not pushing her so hard," he said pointedly to Trevor. "I mean, dammit, Trev - you've only known Mari for a few weeks, and you're already asking her to spend her life with you."
"But she's special, Pete -" Trevor argued.
"Have you told her that?"
"What?" Trevor looked bewildered.
"That she's special. Or did you just expect her to figure it out?"
"I thought she'd guess it from the way I act toward her."
Thyme spoke up. "So, females need reassurance. Is that what you're saying, Human?" He looked thoughtful.
Peter was getting impatient. "You two are dense. It's not just reassurance!" He turned to Trev. "Unless you let her know how special she is, Mari will assume that you come on like that to every girl you meet." Thyme laughed raucously. Peter glared at him. "And you, Thyme, do come on that way to every girl you meet. If Katy did that, I'd never believe she considered me to be special. In fact, I wouldn't trust her at all, and I know I wouldn't want to marry her."
"All right, Pete. Enough said. I get the idea. Can we go now?"
Peter grinned. "Yes. I was just worried that Katy would see the way you two clowns acted, and figure all males were the same. She might not realise she's got the superior version."
"If her version's superior, it's only because she's had longer to work on you. 'Putty in her artistic little hands'," Trevor said sarcastically.
"More like a weaker mind - more easily influenced," Thyme said to Trevor, mockingly.
"You guys don't take criticism very well, is all I can say. Are you ready to go?"
"Sure. After you -" Trevor said with mock politeness.
Peter gestured graciously to his two friends, determined not to be outdone. "No, my Friends, after you."
Thyme, impatient, headed for the gate. "Both of you mushheads - after me." He snickered. Trevor and Peter, laughing now, raced for the gate, determined to beat the fairy through.
The two humans were nearly there, when Peter heard a voice - Katy's. She was calling him - from the woods. He stopped, turning toward the trees just as Trevor and Thyme rushed at the portal. Trevor, already in a dive toward the glowing lights, had a last glimpse of Peter walking away. "Pe - " was all Peter heard before Trevor's voice was lost in the noise of the moving lights.
Peter looked back at the gate. Had he been mistaken? But then, he heard Katy's voice again - or was it? His brow furrowed. Something was different, but he couldn't figure out what it was. "Katy?" he called out.
"Here! Come to me!" Strange. Katy had never spoken to him like that -
*
The blue hyphae wound their way through the forest, growing into favourable areas - with a good food supply - rapidly. Unfavourable sites failed to curb their movement: like a hose carrying water to the scene of a fire, the hyphae merely re-directed nutrients through interconnecting cellular branchlets, supporting their extension through and beyond those areas that might otherwise limit their growth.
Their feeding was indiscriminate, taking advantage of any living source that entered their path. Their massive and rapid expansion generated tremendous demands for new sources of supply. Plants were not immune, nor were animals. Survival favoured new strategies, and so, like the nematode-trapping fungi - who have developed means of looping and netting their slippery victims - one colony of the blue hyphae became hunters, rapidly overtaking the others in growth, as they nurtured themselves on rich sources of nutrients which the others were unable to access. As is the way with their kind, the joining of tissues interlinked the different colonies, passing on advantages, losing individual successes to the advancement of the whole. Rabbits, mice, rats, and birds fled before the encroaching colonies, distancing themselves from the relentless aggressors. The blue hyphae expanded outward.
***
Chapter Three
The background roar of the gate momentarily increased. For a moment, it seemed as though some portion of the gate's brilliance had been ejected forth, as a bright shaft of light darted from the gate. Katy, glancing quickly at Lily, was reassured. Her small friend was flushed and excited, her aura tinged lightly pink, so that Katy had no doubt as to the identity of the new arrival. She exchanged a smile with Mari.
The brilliance of Thyme's flaring light, donned to impress his fellow fairies, created only a momentary stir. It was superseded by an explosive burst of flame, as yet another tree formed a burning pyre against the darkening sky, branches darkly rigid within a yellow-green fire. Thyme's aura dimmed, as he settled down to hover near Lily and Aristi, his own attention drawn by the wondrous incendiary spectacle.
Trevor rolled out of the gate, pausing only briefly before coming to his feet. "Trev!" He heard the smile in Mari's voice.
"Jeez, Mari!" After his words with Peter, he felt particularly self-conscious about his nudity, and placed his hands across his front, quickly turning toward Mari to conceal his backside. He sought Mari's face, inadvertently glancing briefly at everything else - then forcing himself to fix his gaze high. But his eyes seemed to have a will of their own. In spite of his good intentions, they kept slipping down to enjoy the scenery. In desperation, certain he was going to blow it with her once again, he averted his eyes, focusing at a point over her right shoulder. "Are you okay?" he asked.
He sensed her amusement. "I'm fine, Trev. How about you?"
"Oh, fine," he attempted, trying to sound casual. "Some tree, huh?" he commented, nodding his head toward the flaming limbs. His head was all that was free - his hands were fully occupied in trying to conceal himself.
Mari chuckled, finally understanding what Katy had found so amusing earlier, in her - Mari's - own attitude. "Trev," she said. 'It's okay." He risked a quick glance at her face. She smiled at him. "We're all wearing mud." She stooped down and made a mudball, just as Katy had earlier. "Here, have some!" Laughing, she flung it at him. "It doesn't bear close examination, but if you won't stare at me, I promise not to stare at you."
He stooped down quickly, scooping up mud and applying it where it would do the most good. Then, he took a look at her. "Oh, Mari!" he groaned, averting his eyes once more. Turning away, he walked over to the gate. "I think I'll just wait here for Peter," he announced somewhat desperately.
Katy had left them alone while they worked things out. "Where is Peter, Trevor?" she asked. "Didn't he come with you?"
Thyme had been busy mingling his aura with Lily's, under the guise of staring at the burning tree. He was enjoying the sensation of being with her, suddenly aware of how temporary this could be if she continued to refuse him. At Katy's words, however, he suddenly realised that the other human was missing. He flew over to Trevor. "Didn't Peter come with you, Human?"
Trevor shook his head. "We were going through the gate when he turned away. It was weird -"
"What?" Katy asked impatiently.
"Well, as I was running toward the gate, I thought - for just a moment - that I heard your voice, Katy." He looked at her. "I'll bet that's what Peter heard, too. I was too close to the gate, and I couldn't stop," he admitted sheepishly. "I yelled to Peter, but I don't think he heard me."
Katy felt a small frisson of fear. She looked to Aristi. He shook his head, lacking the insight to reassure her.
"I don't like it. We're all here. Who would be calling him?"
Trevor shook his head, his expression worried. "I just don't know, Katy. Maybe I should go back and look for him."
Aristi stopped him, as he took a step toward the gate. "That way does not return you to your world, Human."
Trevor, disgusted now, commented, "Why do these damn gates have to be so mixed-up? And why can't you fairies figure out my name is Trevor, not just 'Human'?"
Aristi's voice was long-sufferingly patient. "It is not the gates which are confused, Trevor-not-just-Human, but some of those who traverse them."
*
Peter stopped, uncertain. He'd heard nothing for several minutes now, even though he'd called out to Katy several times. Suddenly, Katy's voice was with him - in his head. My Love - and there was an inscrolling of hearts and flowers in the message - I'm with Trevor. Are you coming? I miss you -
Peter grinned. Feeling as though his head had suddenly cleared, he turned and jogged toward the glowing portal. Once more, a voice seemed to call out to him, travelling across the tops of the tall grass, creating a wave of movement as it swept in his direction. Distracted, his footsteps slowed, and he started to turn, curious.
*
Thyme urged Katy to call Peter again. "There is some danger, Katherine, that a part of Peter recognises, even though his conscious being is unaware -" Thyme's words were formal, his concentration caught up in focusing on Peter.
Katy nodded, closing her eyes to send a surge of feeling winging toward the person who meant the most to her - whichever world she was in. Peter! Her message had a note of urgency to it. I need you! Please hurry!
*
The last did it. Peter hesitated no longer. A ribbon of red light arched out to touch him briefly, as he added a new firmness to his step. He sped down and through the gilt and silver radiance of the moving lights, eager to seek the warmth of Katy's arms. As he vanished into the portal, a flurry of movement swept the hillside, forming a swathe as it flattened grass culms, bending the blades that were browning in the late summer heat. It ended at the gate, in a swirling of dust, that seethed restlessly at the dry earth underneath the trees.
*
There was one who'd failed to enter the gate with the others. Mortimer, tongue lolling, had been out on one of his jaunts around the property, which his enhanced senses rendered so exciting. Peter and Katy had been trying to curb some of his enthusiasm, at least as far as chasing other animals, or roaming off the property, went, but Morty was forgetful, and tended to get lost in his canine pursuits. His new awareness of all kinds of scurrying forms (and today, there'd been an abundance of scurrying forms), and insidious scents, were too much for a dog to ignore. Mortimer found it much easier to ignore what his humans wanted, than the lure of his own nose.
Thus it was that Mortimer, ignorant and happy, strolled up to the front door. He did his scratch, and then his whine, but his humans didn't answer. After persisting in his scratching (something that usually brought his people hot-footing it to the door), he waited a bit, tilting his head, finally absorbing what his intuition had been trying to tell him: his people weren't at home.
He turned to look at the chair sitting on the porch. Damaged now, since Mortimer had tugged it out across the yard, it had been left on the porch for his use - a clever ploy by the humans to encourage him to stay out of the lounge. What his people didn't realise, was that Morty didn't trust that chair any longer. He growled at it now, then barked firmly at it to keep it in its place - his hazy memory focused on the way that chair had turned on him, and chasing him out of the house.
Mortimer strolled around to Peter's window, which had been thoughtfully left partially open. He jumped, squeezing himself through the small opening in a much-practiced fashion, then bounced across the bed and hopped through the hall to the lounge. There, he made himself comfy on the sofa, preferring its ripped solidity to his confused memories of travelling chairs. He burrowed into the cushions to satisfy a particularly itchy spot along his spine.
He'd closed his eyes to sleep, when a sudden cold invaded the room. Mortimer's long hair stood on end, and he loosed a growl of warning to the air. The sunny light, that had been warming his sleeping spot, vanished, as a darkness filled the room - beginning at the ceiling and sweeping downward in a dense mist. The vapour coalesced, writhing and swirling as its density increased. Mortimer watched, whining now, as the dark form gathered substance: pulling matter from its surroundings, bit by bit, to resolve itself into its chosen form. Morty cowered, slinking from the sofa, to run in terror from the room. He raced across the hall, never hesitating in his flight, electing to go through the glass window, rather than risk the delay in squeezing underneath.
Once outside, in the sunny light, the dog paused, then vigorously shook himself to fling off the shards of glass. He lifted his ears, listening, to the thudding and smacking sounds of Peter's and Katy's belongings being flung around the lounge. Then, his sigh half a whine, he slunk across the yard, and climbed up onto one of the large mounds out front, where he hid behind a big stone block. He hoped that there only the sun would find him, until some of his friends came home.
*
Katy was waiting by the gate - certain, now, that Peter was near at hand. Her smile widened as he rolled out, landing with a somersault on to the mucky ground. She put out a hand, to help him to his feet, and he stood up quickly, taking her in his arms. "What was the emergency, Katy-my-love?" he whispered in her ear.
"Just worried about you, Peter," she replied, enjoying the warmth of his arms.
He lifted his eyes, to look at Trevor and Mari, who were discreetly gazing in another direction; then at the fairies, who were staring directly at them. He gave a smirk at Thyme over Katy's shoulder, and a little wave of his fingers to Aristi and Lily, then turned away, one arm around Katy. "No more hugging like that, Katy." He grinned. "You're playing havoc with my dignity."
She smiled back. "I didn't know you had any," she said. She saw him looking around, searching for some trappings of this world to use as a covering. She indicated one of the trees. "You could use a couple of those branches -" she began, then laughed as the tree burst into flames, and Peter's eyes widened in surprise. "But, you might get a heat rash."
"Hey," he said, giving her a quick perusal, "I'm not the only one who needs covering. Look at you."
"I," she said calmly, "consider myself adequately dressed in mud."
"Adequate to whom?" he asked sarcastically. "You can see every -"
She put muddy fingers over his lips. "Shush! It's the best we can do, Peter. Just make a point of not looking. You're going to make Mari feel uncomfortable all over again," she whispered.
"It's not Mari I'm worried about -" he began, but then he saw a hint of red in Katy's eyes. Chuckling, he said to her, "All right, mud it'll be. Shall I do it, or will you?" he asked wickedly.
Katy smiled, her annoyance gone. "I don't want to boast, but if I do it, we'll all have to wait on your dignity again." She moved closer, to whisper, "Trevor's having a terrible time. Can you get him thinking about something besides not looking at Mari? He's trying so hard to avoid looking that he's acting like a buffoon."
"How can you tell?" Peter asked. "That he's acting like a buffoon, I mean?"
"I don't know if that's a slur on me, for not being able to tell, or on his usual behaviour. Just look for some mud, Peter Trevick - those flaming branches are starting to look more ideal all the time!"
As she turned to stomp away, he gave her a quick kiss on her back. "It won't do you any good to stomp - or should I say - splat, Katy. Remember, I can sense how you're feeling."
She turned and gave him a come-hither smile. "All right, you know-it-all. Just hurry - or I'll take your dignity into my own hands," she replied sweetly.
He wrapped one arm around her waist, and turned her toward him, to give her a devilish grin. His eyes sparkling, he said, "Flaunt it any more, Katy-my-love, and I may forget we're not alone."
Enjoying the warmth of him against her, she asked, "Is that a threat, Mr. Trevick? Because, if it is -" she stared down at him pointedly, initiating a response that made him hide behind her, "- it's definitely one I can live with." Katy grinned at him and stepped away.
Peter stooped quickly and grabbed a heavy handful of mud, which he promptly flung at her retreating backside. As she spun back toward him, he gave her a look of innocent appeal. "You missed a spot, Katy." He was still chuckling as he finished camouflaging himself. Knowing that, with Katy around, his disguise would only go so far, he muttered, "And women complain about their problems."
*
The forest was dying. Exhausted of their nutrients, the trees remained in place only through the rigidity of their structure: artificial silhouettes of what was once the foundation of a large ecosystem. Now, decorated as they were with brilliant blue hyphae and spores, they glimmered garishly, resembling their smaller counterparts that, in a few months, would be lopped off and decorated in a gaiety of Christmas fervour.
Beneath the trees, small creatures who had failed to escape the encroaching colony lay cheerlessly entwined in nets of blue. Fallen in sleep, anaesthetised to death, their mummified remains lay passively amidst the plant debris.
The colony, stifled by its own demands for nutrients, could expand only minimally onto the grassy slopes. Huge amounts of its remaining nutrients were poured into reproductive structures, which flung spores to the wind. All to ensure the reproductive success of this creature - the long-term survival of one who had, in similar fashion, embarked upon its travels from a single spore.
Then, the hyphae of the colony thickened, retaining moisture; becoming dormant, quiescent. Thus, they would remain, until the appearance of a trigger - living entities, the return of vegetation, the growth of a seedling tree - that could activate them once again.
The spores drifted away - one landing on the back of a fleeing rabbit. The swiftly-moving rodent was lucky, in that his speed outpaced the germination of the spore caught in his fur. He raced across the grassy hills, only stopping, exhausted, when he reached a shady patch of shrubbery. The spore was dislodged on to a low-hanging branch, as the rabbit dodged underneath and away. The cycle began again.
*
Thyme flew over, skimming irreverently across the mud layer on Peter's backside. "I don't know why you asses waste so much time on your asses." He snickered.
Peter patiently reapplied a coating of mud, then joined the others. "How did you all get here, anyway?"
Trevor interrupted, asking him, "First, what took you so long to join us?"
Peter looked at Katy. "I could swear I heard you calling me, Katy. From the woods. It was somebody yelling, anyway. Maybe I just assumed it was your voice because I was looking for you."
Trevor shook his head. "No, I heard it too, Pete. And I could have sworn it was you, Katy - but I was already running for the gate, and I couldn't stop in time."
"Well, it wasn't me," Katy said, perplexed. "I hope some other woman isn't having a problem or something."
"No, it wasn't like that, Katy-my-love. Whoever it was, knew my name."
"Do you think it could be someone from Mader's group?" Mari asked, worried.
"No, Mari Sullivan." Aristi waved a hand at his son. "Thyme would have sensed the presence of another human in the area - in time to warn his friends. No, I believe the voice that called to Peter was -"
"No!" Mari said firmly. "I refuse to believe it! And even talking about it can induce the frame of mind that would make us prone to seeing things that aren't there -"
Trevor, though surprised at her outburst, took her hand in his, holding it against his warm chest. "Could someone explain what's going on, please?"
Aristi smiled as Mari took charge. "Katy had a vision or something, just as a small tornado came through and swept us all through the gate. Then, you two came through, and Peter started hearing voices - probably a neighbour calling a dog or something - "
Katy caught Peter's eyes. "Mortimer!" she said. "I forgot all about him! Do you think he'll be okay on his own?"
"How long will it be before we return, Aristi?"
"Two, perhaps three, of your days -"
"I hope he'll have enough to eat -" began Peter.
Katy interrupted. "I left a small pile of burnt crispies for him by that chair on the front porch."
Trevor added, "And if he's still hungry, I put a handful by the back steps."
Mari smiled. "Plus the burnt bits I put just under the edge of the foundation."
"And the bowlful I gave him down by the tool shed." Grinning, Peter commented, "That dog's been eating better than I have!"
Trevor nudged him. "How did you know we couldn't just turn around and go back through this gate?"
"You mean, why'd I ask Aristi how long we'd be away?"
Trevor nodded.
"Because, Trev, things are seldom as simple as they seem. If Katy had been able to come back through, she'd have done that instead of just calling me." He looked pleased at his logic. Then, seeing Trevor's frustrated look, he whispered, "Actually, I didn't think of all that until Aristi told me how long it would take, Trev. Then, everything clicked into place. I was thinking more along the lines of how long it would take to explore our surroundings." He glanced around. "Now, though, you don't have to worry about your own deductive shortcomings." He grinned and elbowed Trevor in the ribs. "I've made a good impression on the fairies. They'll think all humans are brilliant."
"Oh, yeah!" came a voice at his ear. While his father watched disapprovingly, Thyme snatched two good-sized chunks of Peter's hair, smearing them with mud so they stood straight up on his head, like donkey's ears. Peter bore the fairy's abuse patiently, refusing to belittle himself in front of this impressive group by struggling. "Bray, you jackass!" Thyme snorted.
Peter turned to look at Thyme, a look of forbearance on his face. Katy, for Peter's sake, quickly averted her eyes. Mari couldn't help herself - she looked at Peter's serious expression and started laughing. When his look became indignant, it only made things worse. Aristi, trying to hold on to his annoyance, lost it in the uproar as Katy tried to help Peter smooth down his donkey ears. "I'm sorry, Peter," Katy said meekly, the sparkles in her eyes giving her away, "but this seems to be particularly sticky mud -" Any which way she tried to smooth his hair, it stuck out. She finally had it to stick it straight down, by plastering it to the sides of his head. "I'm sorry, Peter," she said again, succumbing to the hilarity that was bubbling up inside; sitting down in the mist so that he couldn't see her laughing.
"Don't try to hide it, Katy," he said. "I can feel you laughing."
"Don't let it bother you, Pete," Trevor managed to get out, in-between great whoops of laughter. His eyes were streaming, and unknowingly, he coated his face liberally with mud as he tried to wipe them, "I, for one, already knew that you're all bray, and no brawn."
***
Chapter Four
Henry wiped a small speck off his gleaming motorcycle. He tied on his bandanna, looked up at the clear blue sky, and made a decision. He'd found a note in his letterbox a few weeks before, telling him that the plant guy, Peter Trevick, wouldn't need his services as gardener for a while. A "while" was one of those nebulous time things - open to interpretation. And Henry was trying to interpret it to suit himself. Although some of the grass was browning off at this time of year, there'd been heavy rain a few weeks back, and he - Henry - had never finished the mowing on that back section. He could picture the height of the grass about now - some of it would be going to seed. The longer the grass, the more difficult it would be to mow next time, and "difficult" didn't suit Henry at all.
He straddled his bike, thinking about the strange types who'd moved in. He'd liked Trevick right off - but his girlfriend was a nutter. Henry wasn't one to listen to gossip, and the neighbourhood hotline tended to pass him by. But, his contact with Trevick had made him a possible source of information, and he'd been the unwilling recipient of a lot of slyly revealed chatter, in hopes that he'd spill some of his own secreted knowledge.
It hadn't worked. Henry kept himself to himself. Little did he know that his reticence, among the neighbours, somehow linked him up with the group living at Peter's mini-farm right now.
And there was a "group" up there. No one seemed to know, or admit to knowing, what kind of group it was, but all the old rumours about those Trees and haunts and strange creatures had started up again. Henry shook his head. Arseholes! Some people would believe anything. And a lot of those people had to stick their noses in everyone else's business, because they didn't have enough to occupy them in their own lives. Henry knew - they'd been trying to mind his business for years.
Well, I've been mowing the grass up there for years. He didn't realise what a habit it had become, and he'd had to force himself not to automatically drive up there - John Grisham or Clive Cussler in pocket - to mow. He puckered his brow. It bothered him that he'd become a creature of habit; something about his rebel nature being irked at this evidence of predictability. Disgusted, curious, and annoyed, he pulled the book out of his back pocket, untied his bandanna, and scuffed his way back into his house. He'd go up there soon enough - but sometime when the compulsion of habit wasn't driving him.
*
Mortimer glanced up at the sky, then back at the house. He crept down the hill on his belly, then edged his way toward the porch. Some small spark of wisdom made him stop at the window, to peek into the lounge. On the wing chair - one of the few things still left standing in the room - was a dark form, nearly solid, but lacking the warmth of life. The Thing turned to stare at the dog. Mortimer cringed back, yelping as though he'd been struck, and leapt off the porch, tail between his legs. He ran, whining to himself, uncertain where to go. Sniffing, he followed Peter's most recent trail, down to the swiftly gyrating lights of the portal between worlds. Turning in a circle, he prepared to curl himself into a snug position to wait.
Up at the house, a door slammed. And then another. Windows rattled as they were lifted restlessly up and down, and Mortimer heard the distant scraping of a chair across the porch - a sound that caused him to quiver nervously. He looked at the moving lights of the gate, then at the house on the hill, which now seemed to possess a life of its own. He was confused over all the action - fleeing animals, houses that couldn't hold still, lights that moved all over the place. As he watched, there was a whisper of dark movement through the grass. He crouched, whining his desperation, then recoiled backwards with an almighty howl as the Thing approached. His backside made a decision for him - in his efforts to escape the dark being, his posterior inadvertently dodged into the glowing circle. The portal, like an enormous straw, sucked him in and away from the world of his birth. Morty's howl spanned dimensions, lasting until he was jettisoned out, on to Cyrnol's back.
Cyrnol heard something coming, but his cat dignity had insisted that he take his time in moving out of the way. Suddenly, he was coated in smelly dog: Mortimer had succumbed to a common urge in his fear, and was covered in his own refuse. Cyrnol snarled, thoroughly disgusted - he didn't like this stupid creature at the best of times, and now Mortimer was so excited to see a familiar face that he was eagerly licking the cat-beast's nose, tail enthusiastically sending more disgusting material flying.
"Jesus, Pete!" Trevor remarked, holding his nose. "What's he been into?"
Peter patted Morty's head. "I think he chased us through the gate by mistake, and he got so scared he had an accident."
"If that's an accident, then I'd hate to see an emergency," Thyme commented rudely.
"Peter, maybe if we coat him in mud, it wouldn't be so bad," Katy suggested.
Mari looked doubtful. "It'd be better to find some water to wash him or something."
Mortimer, forgetting the recent terror of his ordeal at the realisation that he was once again among friends, responded enthusiastically. While his humans were wasting time talking, he'd suddenly become aware that this was a place he'd never been before. Letting loose an excited whine of pleasure, Morty raced off through the fog, his trail marked by the swift motion of flaring auras as they shifted to clear out of his odoriferous way.
*
Vicki Kojan inhaled a warmly-scented portion of the hot summer air, sighing with pleasure over the simple joy of living. She'd come too close to darkness: to departing her corporeal self for the unknown reaches of a bodiless existence. Enjoying the heated sharpness of the summer day, she said softly, "Isn't it amazing?"
"Yep. Couldn't ask for better." Kelwin Stewart smiled over at her.
"Oh, I could," Horace Whitney drawled.
"Really?" Edwin Murphy said, making a fist with an arm that had been withered and flaccid just days before. He placed the fist mockingly under Horace's jaw. "Needing a few more miracles, oh Doubting One? Not satisfied with fairies, monsters, flying horses, and instantaneous cures?"
"Nope. I need some work. But not just any work, if you know what I mean."
"You mean you now find our previous employer's methods less than satisfying?" Kelwin smiled. "Monstrous, in fact?"
Vicki's face turned pale. "Not funny, Kelwin."
"Uncalled for, Stewart," Ed Murphy suppressed a shudder.
Kelwin held up his hands in defence. "Hey, look," he said. "All I meant is that people tend to be a product of their environment. And that nightmare place was our -" he waved a hand to encompass their small group, "- environment for too damn long. We're sort of lucky, in a way, that this happened, so we could -" he chuckled, "- see the error of our ways. Who knows, otherwise we might have gone on like that for years." He put friendly arms across Vicki's and Edwin's shoulders. "Think of this as a miraculous opportunity for change."
*
"I wish I had it with me," Mari looked around at the shimmery fog layer, which reflected back the light thrown out by the multiple moons.
"Had what?"
"The healing crystal. I'd just feel more comfortable."
Trevor shrugged. "It's easy to become reliant on things like that. I prefer to rely on my own wits -"
"You're in trouble, then," Thyme snickered.
"As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted," he gave the fairy a nasty look, "rather than depend on magic, maybe we should try to avoid situations where we might need it."
Behind his back, where Mari couldn't see him, Trevor folded the fingers of his left hand, leaving only his thumb and pinkie exposed. He flapped these like wings. His right hand posing as scissors, he clipped roughly at the thumb "wing". Before Thyme darted away, Trevor heard a sour, "Sadist!" murmured in his ear. Trevor gave Mari a big smile, and took her hand in his.
Mari looked frustrated. "But look at this place, Trev. I'd like to get out of here - for all of us to get out of here - in one piece."
"Relax, Mari. We'll stick together -" he chuckled as he held up their joined hands, which had been nearly glued together by the sticky mud, "- and it'll all be fine." A trace of excitement lightened his eyes. "An adventure, Mari."
She nodded, smiling. "An adventure. I'm glad you're here, Trev," she said softly.
He raised her muddy hand to his lips. His eyes held a wicked glint as he replied. "So am I." His eyes slipped past her as the movement of fairy auras lighted the landscape. "Mari, look!"
Lily had been joined by several other fairies, one of whom had a rather startling silver cast to his aura. This one had apparently been watching the humans, for he rather elegantly lifted Lily's small hand to his lips. She smiled, her aura tinged a pale green, and chatted delicately with him.
Trevor was on the point of calling Thyme's attention to the scene, but sensed it would annoy Mari if he rubbed the fairy's nose in his chosen's defection. The human settled for smiling gleefully, then calling softly to his friend, "Hey, Pete!" Trevor inclined his head in Lily's direction.
Peter, well acquainted with Thyme's temper, gave a low whistle, and rolled his eyes at Trevor. He gazed around, finally spotting Thyme having a talk with his father - and not a very pleasant one, from the younger fairy's rigid posture.
"He's gorgeous!" remarked Katy, staring at Lily's silver-aura'd friend. "I'm going to introduce myself," she said to Peter, smiling. He smiled back, realising that Katy hoped her presence would help deter the altercation that was certain to come. He watched her for a moment, admiring her curves and silky walk.
Trevor came over to stand next to him. "You're a lucky man, Peter."
Peter put his hand up across Trevor's eyes. "That's right." He made a point of eyeing Mari, who'd just joined Katy.
"Hey!" Trevor said. "Eyes off!" He looked at Peter. "Deal?"
"Deal."
Trevor watched Mari, feeling safe because he knew Mari wasn't aware of it. A blissful expression on his face, he asked Peter, "How the heck do they learn to walk like that?"
Peter shook his head. "I have a theory about that. Up until puberty, they seem to walk like everyone else, then something happens to their hips." He grinned at Trevor. "To facilitate the survival of the species."
"It facilitates it all right." Trev checked to make sure the swirling fog layer was still offering him some concealment. "I'm just glad the mist seems bound to persist."
*
"I have this yen to improve my life." Vicki, slightly embarrassed, said more quietly, "We've seen some things for which there're no explanations. Things that I started discounting before I even left childhood. You know, the only way I'd let myself consider anything as weird as some of those creatures, was to keep this tiny belief in extraterrestrials going - because I could almost justify the existence of some mysteries out there, that I denied here - where I live."
Kelwin nodded. "Heck, yes! When I ran into those things, and that Trevick guy did his disappearing act, I decided it was a religious experience -"
"You would!" Horace commented scornfully. Kelwin didn't mind. His new religious ethic included tolerance for less enlightened souls.
"Well, if that's religion, then the thing Mader turned into was a devil." Edwin looked sick.
"It wasn't Mader -" Horace began.
Vicki shook her head. "I know what you're going to say, Horace. You're sure that monster was something they dreamed up in the lab. But, I know now it was Mader. He became that -" she shivered, "- somehow."
"Okay. Let's drop it. The point is, things have changed. And we're all looking at life differently. But we still need to make a living. Any ideas?"
Kelwin was adamant. "I refuse to go back to what I was doing. I feel we're destined for better things."
Vicki paused, wondering if she should mention something that was bothering her. Edwin looked over at her. "Spill it, Vick."
Her face was puzzled. "How did you know?"
"There are lots of things I know now that I didn't before." Edwin was deliberately vague.
"Is this a secret language, or can anyone join in?" Kelwin asked.
Horace was merely frustrated. "Tell the more ignorant among us what's going on, okay?"
"Merely, if you guys want to go into investigative work, we won't be working entirely in the dark," Vicki replied. "On any cases we take up, I mean."
"All right," Horace said drily. "I'll take the bait. Why won't we be as ignorant as any other investigators out there?"
"Because of the powers of our observations," Edwin replied. "For example, Horace, where did you get those nifty green boxers?"
"Beg pardon?" Kelwin looked perplexed. "Since when have you been studying Horace's gruts, Ed?"
"He hasn't." Vicki looked at Edwin, and he nodded. "I'm just glad I'm not the only one. For a while, I thought I was going nuts!"
"I still do," Horace said. "Think you're going nuts that is. But it looks like you've got company."
Kelwin started speaking loudly. "I'm doing this," he enunciated slowly and clearly, "so that all those talking in a foreign language can understand me -"
"Shut up, Kelwin," Horace said, not unkindly. "Yes, I'm wearing boxers that an Irishman, such as yourself, Edwin, would kill for. How did you know?"
"In the same way that I know Kelwin has a Metallica shirt on under that respectable coat and tie. Clairvoyance," Vicki said calmly.
Horace snorted. "Clairvoyance, my ass. ESP? You've wigged out, Babe."
"First of all, I'm not a babe. And I no longer think I've 'wigged out', as you call it. It's just that, when that green woman put me back together, something went wrong. Or -" she chuckled, "- right, depending on how you look at it. I get flashes of insight now, that I didn't get before."
Horace looked at Edwin. "You, too?" He nodded.
Kelwin said, "I think I'll be sick."
This time, all three of the others said, "Shut up, Kelwin."
Horace shook his head, looking first doubtful, then worried, and - finally - pleased. "I still don't know if I buy that green miracle worker bit -" Vicki opened her mouth to argue. Horace raised his hand. "But it really doesn't matter whether you and Ed and the others recovered on your own, or had help, does it? I mean, it may have been like any other injury, and your bodies just healed."
Edwin snorted scornfully, but Kelwin grinned. "You're just huffy because your itty-bitty concussion wasn't serious enough to merit a visit from the green lady, Horace," Kelwin said.
Horace ignored him. "Look, however this 'cure' took place, it does rather give us sort of an investigative edge, doesn't it?" he said.
This time, when Kelwin spoke, his voice was serious, and they all listened. "If we do this thing," he said firmly, "we don't take on any smut, or government crap, understand?"
Edwin nodded. "I think we've all had enough of that. And, after seeing what monsters avarice can produce, I think I'd like to stick to cases that help people out."
Horace agreed. "Monsters come in all sizes. Call me prejudiced, but I'd just like any I might run into, to be of the human persuasion."
*
As first Katy, and then Mari, approached, the silver fairy paused in his conversation with Lily to appraise them openly. Katy, treating him as she would a male of her own world, ignored the perusal, but smiled, as she spoke to Lily. "I thought I'd ask if you have any ideas about where we're going next, Lily."
Mari, having worked for so long in an environment where bodies where part of her trade, and overt sexuality was taboo, had more trouble. She kept wishing the fairy's eyes would wander elsewhere. It struck her as amusing, that she, who dealt with the human form, and saw it so frequently, should be almost naive when it came to this kind of thing. I wish he'd keep his small eyes on the person he's talking to, she thought.
Lily presented her friend with a flourish. "This is Strey Aytaas," she told the humans, smiling. "I am helping him with your language."
Strey Aytaas inclined his head. His voice was deep, but his accent bore occasional traces of the fluted tones of the fairy tongue. "It was important that I be able to converse with two such -" He turned to Lily and asked her something in fairy. At her words, he nodded, then continued, "- noble examples of your kind." He bowed.
Katy caught Mari's look, and almost burst out laughing. What a line! Well, I, for one, am going to enjoy this, she thought. "Oh, Strey Aytaas," she returned, "how kind of you to mark our nobility." She reached out and pulled Mari closer. "We should, in such honoured company, make an effort to learn some words of your speech."
"Alas, oh Fair One, it would be too difficult for your kind -"
This was too much for Mari. To Katy's, and, especially, Strey Aytaas' surprise, she broke into a short torrent of fairy. The silver fairy drew back, astounded.
Lily was laughing, the trill of her laughter carrying sweetly through the cooling night air. "Didn't I get it right, Lily?" Mari asked, smiling.
"Only, Mari Sullivan, if you wished to thank him, tell him no, and ask him for his gift of flight, all at once."
Katy was enthusiastic, however. "Mari, that was incredible!" She turned swiftly to Lily. "Do you think I could learn some, too?" Her eyes gazed off into the distance, wonder causing them to glow brightly. "There's something so very beautiful in the idea of speaking 'fairy'."
Mari nodded in agreement. "For humans, it delves into the very core of our traditions and fantasy."
Strey Aytaas took Lily's hand once more, daring to mingle his aura tentatively with hers, as he spoke to her swiftly in his own tongue. Lily said enthusiastically, "He has offered to help me teach you, in order to learn some of your tongue as well. Is it not wonderful?" A delicate pink rimmed Lily's aura where the other fairy contacted it.
*
Thyme had both heard and sensed the joy of Lily's laughter, and left his father abruptly. Growling, his eyes red, he started in her direction. Peter, anticipating this, moved into Thyme's path. "No, Thyme!" he said quietly. The fairy ignored him, so Peter grasped one wing. Thyme zapped him, but Peter held on. "You'll lose her!" he said. Thyme looked at him quickly.
Trevor had joined them, and he stood there, arms folded. "Peter's right, you know."
"Listen to her laughter, Thyme." Peter knew it would hurt his small friend, but the fairy had to realise how his own behaviour was pushing Lily away. "There's nothing wrong with that -"
Thyme glared at him. "Except that I didn't -"
"Didn't what? Cause it? 'Give her permission'?"
Thyme interrupted snidely, "You've got to be kidding!"
Peter ignored him. "Or is it just that she's enjoying herself without you? That's allowed, you know," he said wisely.
The fairy snorted rudely, and tried to pull away from Peter's grasp. "He's only trying to help, Fairy!" Trevor said firmly.
"I hardly need the help of a human in getting rid of that creature!" Thyme indicated Strey Aytaas.
"Thyme," Peter said quietly, "what's Lily feeling right now?"
The fairy paused, and glanced over at Lily. Her golden curls and smiling face seemed to mock him, but her expression, when she sensed his observation, was anxious. "She doesn't want me to come over there." Thyme spoke in a whisper, but his voice was full of dismay. He looked up at Peter. "She is afraid of me." He was appalled.
Good! Peter thought. Finally, we're getting through. Trevor nodded at him, then stepped in-between so Lily couldn't see Thyme's upset. She might sense it, but hopefully, they would make him understand before she came charging over here to see what had caused it.
"All right, Thyme, why doesn't she want you there?"
Thyme said nastily, "She's afraid I'll spoil the fun she's having with that creep!"
"Right," Peter replied calmly. "But you care about Lily - love her, don't you?" Thyme nodded. "Then why would you want to spoil her fun? Wouldn't you want her to have a good time with all her friends - you know, enjoy seeing that she's happy?"
For just a moment, Thyme appeared as Spigot. "If she's going to mingle her aura with that -" His eyes flared red.
"Cool it, Hot Shot!" Trevor said firmly. Thyme, not believing his ears, glared at him.
"The point is, Lily's gorgeous," Peter said. Trevor nodded his agreement, while Thyme looked annoyed. "And you're going to have to put up with a lot of people admiring her."
"And she's not going to be impressed if you come charging in there, sending that silver guy flying. Try a little charm, Fairy - little is probably the operative word - but use what you've got." Trevor smiled.
"She'd appreciate you more if you didn't make her feel trapped." Peter spoke sincerely, without Trevor's flippancy. "Surprise her, Thyme. She doesn't want you there because she figures you're going to make a scene." The fairy was still wearing a stubborn look. Peter was growing impatient with his belligerence and let his annoyance show. "We all thought you'd make a scene. Didn't you notice how we just happened to be in the way?!" he asked sarcastically.
"Your problem is, you think you're an expert on everything, Subcreature!"
"And your problem is, you're so damned predictable that everyone from Lily to the veriest subcreature -" he emphasised, "- can guess just how obnoxious you intend to be!" Peter folded his arms across his chest.
Predictable! For someone of Thyme's rebel inclinations, predictable was anathema. As much as he hated to acquiesce to the humans' machinations, he couldn't tolerate the idea that Lily and everyone else might know exactly what he was going to do, and - his eyes swept the others of the group - secretly laugh at him. Damn! Damn! Damn!
He flew back over to his father's side. "Aristi, I need you!" The older fairy raised his eyebrows at his son's imperative tone.
"What, Thyme? No temper tantrums? Jealous scenes?" Although the words were said in fairy, they didn't sound any nicer than when the humans had spoken. Am I so predictable, then? Thyme thought.
Aristi smiled, and spoke for the first time without sarcasm. Correctly interpreting his son's look, he answered him, "Only when you are angry - or jealous." His next words were said seriously. "Love is not easy to sustain, my son. It can be the strongest of links between two persons, or as fragile, and temporal, as the moonbeams that dance upon the night. It can be crushed by thoughtlessness, because such is often misinterpreted as something worse, by those who have left themselves open to wounding - whose trust is exposed, allowing them to be abused by the one they hold most dear."
Thyme looked worried, suddenly concerned that Lily would never believe in him, even if he were to change. His father briefly joined auras with him, commiserating with the worry that knowledge had brought. "Remember, my Son, that no one willingly leaves themselves open to pain. If they do, for a brief period, in an act of trust, then they will bear some scars from their sacrifice." Thyme nodded, but the eyes that met his father's were dimmed. His father nodded. "In love, pain will be mingled with pleasure, which allows us to continue to believe. I think, my Son, that you have brought your Lily much happiness. Go to her now, but be happy with her. Do not make her suffer in your anger."
Thyme, newly hopeful, reached out and grasped his father's wrist. "Thank you, Aristi."
Aristi inclined his head toward Peter and Trevor. "Thank your human friends, my Son. They bore your anger to save your arrogance from guiding your steps."
There was a trace of devilry in the look Thyme flashed at his father. "Oh, I will - some day," he said. "But, for now, it is better if they wonder what I intend." He laughed as he flew off to join Lily and her silvery admirer.
*
Qualice, on leaving Thyme and the humans, had wandered on in the slow but comforting shadow of his giant friend, Gyris, before setting off for the safety of his home - one of many small split shale dwellings, hidden in the blue shadows of thick bush. He quivered now as he peered out at the undergrowth, his restlessness mirrored by the brilliant flickers of light dancing under the giant trees. It was in the nature of his people to combine timidity with a nervous energy that made him long for action. Right now, he was longing for that other world - the one that Thyme had convinced him to visit. He had felt exceptionally brave doing such a thing, for it was most unlike one of his kind to possess the valour for such an exploit. But now, he missed the glamorous feeling that being in the other world had led him to believe he possessed: that aura of the adventurer. Most of all, he missed a tool that had served him well - a prized weapon that he'd been forced to leave behind.
Qualice scurried over to stare out across the water. In the distance, he could see Cliso - another adventurer on their journey - playing in the shallows. For a moment, he considered paying her a visit, merely to talk over their exploits in the world of humans. But he was afraid she would find him dull. Such a thing would crush his humble self-esteem.
He wondered if he could duplicate that wonderful implement that had served him so well against the Sylybin. Even now, he could see doubt in his people's eyes when he spoke of his mastery over that dreaded invader. If he could make a tool that would mimic the action of that marvellous water shooter, then he could protect his people in the event of future attack. And have some fun in the meanwhile.
Smiling now, his small face creased with pleasure, he searched for, and found, a hollow tube of wood. Excited, he set about duplicating the wonderful implement of his former glory.
*
Lily's smile became forced as Thyme approached. Strey Aytaas kept his aura in contact with Lily's, while staring at Thyme - a sneering smile upon his handsome features. Katy looked at the silver fairy, surprised at how his expression filled her with distaste.
Thyme went straight to his adversary, and bowed politely, in a manner he'd picked up while watching Peter's TV. Then, he turned to Lily, and took the hand that was firmly clasped in Strey Aytaas' - finding he had to uncurl a finger at a time to force the other fairy to release her. "Lily (one finger undone), my Love (two fingers) - may I (three fingers) have (four fingers) this dance?" He pulled her hand free, and swirled her away in a trail of sparks.
"That was nicely done," Mari commented, as Strey darted off in a huff.
Katy nodded. Smiling, she mused, "Remember the old expression, 'going sparking'? I wonder if they were thinking about something like that."
***
Chapter Five
The moonlight, sharp and crystalline, captured the eloquence of the esquiors' wings. It etched bright patches of muscle, to define them both by their sinewy strength, and the shadowing that gave a liquid, albeit dark, pooling reflection beneath.
Cyrnol, the only feline in the gathering, lurked within the fog cover, the slant to his facial contours partially hidden within the camouflage of his deep purple coloration. The wongnits continued to betray themselves with the wild jitterbug of their gyrations beneath the ground cloud.
Peter examined, in the brightness of several fairy auras, the bark of a tree newly subsided from its inflammatory display. "Unburned!" He shook his head, muttering. He peeled back a piece of bark - then held it in his palm to examine it. When it suddenly flared into yellow-green flame once more, Peter jumped, and dropped it on to Cyrnol's unsuspecting head. "Jeez, Cat! I'm sorry!" Cyrnol batted the offending bit of matter from his head, then gave the human a baleful glare, his glowing eyes a neat slit - almost closed, yet leaving Peter in no doubt of his feelings.
Peter heard the trill of fairy laughter, and glanced over at his helpers. Yerly, Miso, and Lyre were their names, if he had them right. He smiled back, careful not to let Cyrnol see. If cats were indeed similar in all worlds, then he could assume that this feline's dignity was something Cyrnol would preserve with a vengeance. After witnessing the cat-beast in action, Peter had no intention of challenging the rough friendship that had sprung up between them, by treading upon that dignity.
"I think we should get moving." Trevor was impatient to explore. He appreciated the burning trees, but he didn't want to dissect them the way Peter did.
"But, look, Trev!" Peter excitedly held out a handful of bark. It flared to life, but this time he held on to it.
"Ouch!" Trevor said, looking at Peter inquiringly.
"No, Trevor - that's just it! They burn, but don't consume. Isn't it great?"
Trevor tried to plaster a thrilled expression on his face, but Peter had known him too long to be fooled. "Yeah, Pete," he agreed. "No - it's great - really!" he insisted, after seeing Peter's discouraged look. "It's just that we've been looking at chunks of wood for fifteen minutes now. I'm keen to see what the rest of this place is like."
"Sure, Trev." Peter turned away, sighing, while Trevor threw his hands in the air.
"Okay, okay," Trevor muttered to himself, "a few more minutes." His voice carried easily across the top of the fog as he called to someone who could feign interest better than he. "Oh, Katy! Yoo-hoo!" He smiled sweetly, beckoning her over.
"You, Human, are too gullible." Thyme, having finished extricating Lily from the doubtful pleasure of Strey Aytaas' company, buzzed Trevor's shoulder. He headed in Peter's direction, tugging Trevor along by his hair. "Peter!" he called. Peter turned, a huge grin on his face. "Does that look to you, Trevor Richmond, like the face of someone who has been misunderstood and maligned?" Peter shrugged his shoulders. "Get a brain, Ferret Breath!" Thyme said, pinching Trevor's ear before darting quickly away.
"Gullible! Now, I have royal jackasses like that misbegotten fairy -" he heard a grunt from Aristi, "- sorry, Aristi - calling me gullible, and it's all your fault, Pete!" He grinned back at his friend, finding himself unable to resist the expression on Peter's face. "Am I really that gullible?" He slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand.
"Damn right you are. So gullible that you're not going to complain at all if I spend a few more minutes trying to figure out what makes these trees burn this way."
Trevor snorted. "Seen one burning tree, seen 'em all."
"I knew patience wasn't part of your vocabulary."
"Sure it is. Right between pain-in-the-ass and Peter," Trev replied.
Trevor waited all of thirty seconds. He looked incredulously at the other members of their group - amazed that none of them seemed eager to explore. "You'd think they'd all been here a million times."
"Huh?" Peter asked absently.
Trevor shifted restlessly. "If we're going to explore this place by inspecting every speck of wood and fungus -"
Peter looked up hopefully at that one.
"- and no, I haven't seen any of your damned fungus. What I was saying is, sometimes it's better to look at the forest instead of the trees."
Peter didn't say anything, so Trevor pushed a little harder. "There's a helluva lot of forest out there to look at."
Peter looked eagerly out across the distance. The multiple moons reflected light onto a world that wore a wrapping of low white fog, interspersed with the distant crystalline sharpness of what appeared to be ice- or snow-clad peaks. Where the incandescence of a burning tree cut the night, the fog glowed briefly in searing oranges, yellows, and reds. "I'm glad we have a couple of days to do it in."
Trevor frowned. That wasn't what he'd been hoping Peter would say. "Look, Pete, I'm going to see if anyone wants to go on ahead. Catch up with me, okay?"
Thyme was at his side in a moment.
Trevor looked at him. "No and no and no. I said someone, not something. And I was thinking of a certain female."
*
The fog held as Trevor and Mari headed in the direction Aristi had indicated. If anything, its density increased. As the first tendrils of vapour began to curl up around their faces, indicating that they were approaching a place where the fog might well inundate them, Trevor relinquished his hold on Mari's hand, and placed an arm around her waist.
"It muffles everything, doesn't it?" Mari whispered, amazed at how distant her own slushy footsteps sounded. The blanketing fog, and the warmth of Trevor at her side, nudged away the last of her fears. Lulled by the security of their closeness, Mari began to relax. She realised that, between the demands of her job, and the events of the last week, she hadn't been able to relax in a very long time. "What are you thinking, Trev?" she asked, a little shyly.
"I was thinking I wish I could see where I was going," he replied.
She stumbled slightly at that one, but she sensed that he was grinning. "Thank God you're not the kind of person to take advantage of a situation like this," she said fervently.
It was his turn to hesitate. At her giggle, he pulled her around to face him. "I feel like a blind man. Let me trace your face with my fingers, Mari. Ooh - what a gorgeous nose you have -"
Mari giggled again. "That's not my face - and definitely not my nose."
"But I was sure this was your mouth! Does it need a kiss?"
"Trev! I'm all muddy -"
"Didn't you ever try to eat a mud pie when you were a kid?" he asked.
Mari gasped. "Trev!" Suddenly, she shook him. "Trev! Did you hear that?!"
He stood up, and pulled her close. "It's probably just some Peeping Tom," he whispered in her ear, but she could feel his muscles tighten. Some instinct, similar to the one that had triggered Mari's wariness, caused him to hesitate - an awareness that this was not merely one of their friends seeking to join them. He knelt down in the mud, drawing her down beside him. A heavy body soared through the air, the wind of its motion sweeping them before the thud and smack of its landing reached their ears.
"Trev -" Mari whispered, frightened now. Trevor reached over and touched her lips quickly with his own: reassurance and a gentle silencing in one. He shook his head. Hers weren't the only senses screaming in alarm.
The Thing was on them suddenly, without further warning. Its body was solid, and clammy, like the mud that nurtured its existence.
Trevor was caught from behind. As he was yanked upwards - away from Mari's grasp - his arms were pinned tightly against his sides, leaving him unable to repel his adversary. Top-heavy with the weight of the creature, he toppled into the mud, feathers of panic beginning to filter in as he realised that this smaller, but densely heavy opponent, had an advantage.
Using his legs, Trevor managed to lever himself onto his side, to gasp a breath free of stinky mud. Did I tell Mari I liked this stuff? Gaining a breath gave him new hope, and he used his legs to good effect: rolling back on to the thing that held him - forcing It into the mud.
The action didn't have the effect he'd intended, though. The creature's wings seemed to act like springs - thrusting them both up and over, so once more Trevor found himself face down in the muck. Trevor's determination mingled with the beginnings of terror - at the strength of his challenger's grasp, accompanied by a painful awareness that the Thing possessed sharp talons, and had no scruples about using them.
The dense fog layer was blinding. Mari shrieked Trevor's name, and beat on his attacker. It wasn't until Trev groaned and wrenched his leg away that she realised she'd actually been beating on him.
Distressed at adding to his misery, she jerked back, unwilling to do him more harm. But, Trevor's terror seeped into her with an awareness as cold as the clammy skin of his attacker. He can't do this alone. Mari gritted her teeth in determination - and heard the tiny crackles of sand-like particulates crunch at the gesture. Damn this place! Her eyes glinting red, she spat, and lunged forward once again.
Her arms swept the air, desperately determined to get a hold on one of them: Trevor, to pull him free, or - some part of her wanted to recoil at the thought of grasping this monster come at them out of the dark - the creature that was attacking him.
Mari felt the scrape of its coarse wings claim skin from her hide, as she once again joined in the fracas. She grabbed the creature's feet, momentarily stunned by the contours, which resembled those of a human child. Releasing them in her shock, a surge of feeling from Trevor made her realise that for all that this Thing might have some childlike qualities, its rapacious nature was far from youthful innocence. She dove forward, once again gripping a foot, and yanking it backwards.
The Creature turned on her, giving Trevor a brief respite, and began to rake her with its claws. She swung her hair forward, to shield her face from the attack. As she pounded on the Thing's chest and arms, over and over, the clamminess and slapping sound of fist on flesh gave her a momentary flash out of context - of a butcher at work, tenderising a particularly tough steak. She grunted as the rounded attacker returned her efforts with a vengeance.
Trevor, resurrected from the mud, tried to get a grip on their assailant as it writhed and squirmed - and was finally able to snag a wing. He flipped the creature over, off Mari.
As Trevor fought to keep their opponent pinned, a repetitious cracking sound arose from the Creature beneath him. It took Trev a second to realise that the Thing had changed its tactics: he was hearing the snapping and clashing of teeth in powerful jaws. At that moment, before Trevor could anticipate its actions, his attacker reached up, and sank claws into Trevor's arm. It yanked him down, so that he was chest-to-chest with it - a position from which he was helpless to defend himself.
Trevor felt the Creature's teeth bite deeply into his shoulder. He brought his fist hard up against the side of the rounded head, feeling the thud resound through him as his own body took the vibration of the blow where the creature had linked itself - teeth to bone.
*
The furore of the battle did not go unnoticed. Peter's head jerked up, even before the first of the blows fell. Katy turned to look at him, stricken by a sensation of fear. Peter raced across the clearing, to grasp Katy's hand, noting that Thyme and Lily were already at their sides.
"Which way did they go?" Katy gasped.
Thyme didn't answer - his and Lily's auras were like brightly bobbing lanterns as they coasted just above the fog layer. Peter and Katy stumbled through the gooey unevenness of the terrain as they struggled to keep pace.
*
The Being flapped its wings at the mud now, trying to force itself free of its all-but-vanquished foe. But the confused efforts of the three combatants frustrated any attempts by the Creature to get clear of its victims. Mari was alternating between trying to yank Trevor away, and booting the creature beneath him, in hopes of inflicting enough damage so it would leave.
"Let him go!" she screeched.
They were still unsure what, exactly, they were fighting. The swiftness of Its movements, and the angles of attack had robbed them of a mental picture. Obviously humanoid - and, like the fairies, It was winged. With claws, and - one helluva set of teeth. Trevor writhed, as he wondered how to free himself from the powerful jaws.
In Mari's mind, the Thing had taken on bestial qualities: horns and claws and a demon's sneer - hooves replaced by a pair of innocent feet. She was sure, after the other creatures she'd seen come through the gate, that this must be the Devil himself - coming at them out of the darkness, its rapaciousness hidden behind childlike qualities - which only made it more of an obscenity.
It took a fairy light to reveal their attacker. Lily and Thyme, united in their quest, came soaring forward, their joint light piercing the dense moisture barriers the fog had erected before their eyes.
With a wail - at the painful brilliance of the fairies' approach - the Creature recoiled, shoving Trevor backwards in a powerful thrust. Then It lingered briefly, squinting up Its eyes, Its appearance momentarily shocking both victims and rescuers into stunned silence. The wail, more anguished now, resembled the cry of a frustrated infant - and the Being balled up his fat fists and rubbed them into eyes that ached from the unaccustomed brightness. His wings flapped rapidly, and his rounded body moved upward. "My God!" Peter said. "It's a Cherub!"
"A Cherub from hell," Trevor groaned. He pushed himself to his feet, and reached out a hand to help Mari. Blood was pouring down his right arm from the bite on his shoulder. "And -" he commented weakly, a hint of a smile on his lips, "- the poor wee Thing was teething -" He collapsed face first on to the muddy ground.
"Trev!" Katy and Peter helped Mari turn him over. "I need light -" she said. Lily hovered directly overhead.
"My God, Trevor!" Peter whispered as he looked at his friend's shoulder, a sick expression on his face.
"Mari, are you okay?" Katy asked her anxiously. Mari nodded, close to tears.
Thyme had taken advantage of the Creature's flight to zap it in its rounded buttocks, flaring his aura with enthusiastic zeal, enjoying the way the oversized baby fled from his - Thyme's - small person. He cooled his brilliance briefly, sneaking up unbeknownst to the Cherub's side, then exploding into a bright burst of showering sparks, that gave the Creature added impetus for its speedy flight. Finally, confident that he'd put enough distance between the less-than-angelic Cherub, and his chosen victims, Thyme sped back to the site of battle.
Mari was applying pressure to the wound in Trevor's shoulder. "I hope this'll stop the bleeding," she said helplessly.
"Why's he bleeding, Mari? Shouldn't his blood be crystallising or something?" Peter asked urgently. "You're bleeding, too." He pointed to the scratches on her arms. "Here," he said, trying gently to move her hands. "I'll do that, so Katy can look at your scratches."
"No, Peter," Mari said firmly. Her eyes were glistening, and Katy sensed she was close to losing control. "I need to do what I can." She adjusted her downward angle, noting a slight cessation in the viscous fluid that had been oozing between her fingers. She sighed, relaxing slightly as she realised that her actions were beginning to have an effect. "Thank God. I think it's slowing." She looked up at the others. "I don't know why we're still bleeding." She looked at the fog surrounding them. "It might be this place." She shuddered. "Or maybe that Thing had something in its saliva and claws that stops clotting."
Lily looked up as Thyme sped their way. She was hovering near the humans, trying to remain still so they would have a steady light. Katy, relieved that the other fairy was back, said, "Thyme, I think we could use a fairy touch here."
Lily spoke briefly to Thyme in fairy, and Katy glanced at them quickly. Both the fact that they were communicating in fairy, and the peculiar seriousness of their emanations, worried her. Thyme said nothing to the humans, but settled down on to Trevor's chest, while Katy took Trevor's hand. Lily laid her small hands next to Katy's, then concentrated, briefly glowing a shade brighter. At the same time, Katy closed her eyes, pouring a burst of multi-coloured energy down through her hands, and into Trevor's limp form, stopping only when he began to stir. "Peter, you drip," Thyme said, "spurt a little of that goopy white stuff on to his shoulder, okay?"
Peter nodded, happy that Thyme felt they had enough control over the situation to joke about it. Holding his fingertips above Trevor's injury, he dripped a little white ectoplasm on to the raw area, pleased to see it seal the wound. Afterwards, he looked at his glowing fingertips in the light from Lily's aura. "I suppose I'm going to have to do something about de-dripping myself, but at least I was able to use it for something good this time," he murmured. He wiggled his fingertips at Mari. "Hey, Mar, your turn. I've heard that white goop is really 'in' this year." She flinched back from his fingers. "Hey, look, Lady. It beats mud -" He smiled.
Katy was looking at Mari's scratches. "They're really awful, Mari. And, unlike Trevor, you're still bleeding. I think you have to let us do something about them."
Mari checked Trevor's pulse one more time, just to reassure herself that he wasn't going into shock or a sudden decline. Relieved, she smiled. "Okay. Ready." She closed her eyes and held out her arms. Thyme and Katy repeated the actions they'd used on Trevor. Mari opened her eyes. "I can't believe how much better I feel." Then her brow furrowed slightly. "I only hope you two haven't depleted yourselves too much."
"Worry-wart." Katy grinned at her.
"Mari, this may be a little embarrassing, but I have to drip some of this goo in your direction if I'm going to seal those cuts." Mari shut her eyes, and nodded her head. "Just think of all the poor men over the years who've been mortified at having to expose themselves to you, Mari," Peter teased as he worked. "Consider this payback time."
"What about all the men who've been delighted to expose themselves to her?" Trevor murmured.
Mari's eyes popped open, and Peter stopped to look down at his friend. Katy laid a hand gently on Trevor's good shoulder. Thyme commented, "I knew it was too good to be true. And here I thought we were in for some peace and quiet."
Lily said softly, "It is good to have you with us once again, Trevor."
Mari knelt next to him, her eyes on his. She reached out her hand, and he grasped it in his. "Are you feeling better, Trev?"
He nodded, determined to demonstrate how much better by sitting up. Thyme flew on to his chest to stop him. "No, Trevor!" he commanded.
Trevor looked annoyed. "Why not? I feel fine - sore, yes, but not like I'm about to take another header or anything."
Thyme remained on the human's chest, but at a sign from Lily, he moved to one side so that she could join him.
"I hate to tell you, but the dance floor's closed," Trevor muttered. "And the orchestra's folded up for the night."
"Trevor," Lily said softly, "I sense that the Creature who attacked you has left some poison in your system -"
Peter heard Mari's sharp, shocked inhalation. Katy put an arm around her shoulders. Trevor's next words, "Mari?" brought tears to Mari's eyes.
Lily smiled down at him. "No, Trevor. She was scratched, but the poison was the product of the Being's mouthparts -"
"Venom?" Mari asked in a whisper.
Lily looked to Thyme for affirmation, uncertain of the word. Thyme spoke seriously. "Yes, Mari Sullivan. Venom." As he sensed Trevor's response, he said firmly, "Trevor, it would be better if you were to relax. The actions we have taken will slow the poison's journey through your system, but it will help if you do not become upset."
"Not become upset?" Trevor's tones revealed his frustration. "You tell me I've been poisoned, and now I'm supposed to stay calm?" he said sarcastically.
"He's right, Trev." Mari had swallowed her own fear, sensing that Trevor needed the calm assurance of her professional side. She took his pulse once again, forcing a steadiness into her expression that she was far from feeling. "Stay calm. There are a lot of us here -" she smiled, "- to watch out for you, and see you home safely."
He looked at her. "You forget, Dr. Sullivan, that I can sense uncertainty," he said hoarsely. "However," He lifted her hand from his wrist and held it in a tight grasp, "I do appreciate the effort."
"Can we suck the venom out?" Mari asked Lily.
She shook her head. "No, Mari. It has already entered his tissues. The small amount we could remove from his person would be insufficient to save him from harm."
Mari was thinking of alternatives. "Are there any healing crystals in this world, Lily?"
"No, Mari." Lily shook her head dolefully.
"Thyme?"
The fairy looked up at Peter.
"Can we get a lift from Symmerley or Zylon?"
Thyme nodded. "They have noted the urgency of the situation, and are already on their way."
The fog suddenly brightened above them, lightening to a cool milky white. The brilliance gained definition, and Aristi, accompanied by Lyre, broke through the fog barrier. Yerly and Miso quickly followed, but Peter felt his greatest relief when Symmerley's and Zylon's silky heads edged in on their small group. Thyme spoke to his father rapidly in his own tongue, then turned to the humans. "Lily has suggested that she and I return quickly to your world for the healing stone, while you follow at your best pace."
"Good idea," Peter said calmly. Squeezing Katy's hand, he stepped away from Trevor's side. "Thyme, there're just a few details I want to work out with you about how and when we're going to meet, and the best way to keep Trev calm -"
Thyme interrupted, saying pointedly, for Trevor's effect, "A punch in the head will do."
It had the effect he'd hoped. Trevor grinned, relaxing slightly at the fairy's joke. "Several punches, and maybe I'll be as rattled as you are, Fairy."
Thyme lifted from Trevor's chest, and darted over to tug the human's ear. "Don't push it, Bozo. I'm off to do you a favour."
Trevor looked at Lily, still standing quietly on his chest. She smiled at him. Winking at her, he said, "Favour nothing. You just want some time alone with Lily." Her aura took on a tinge of pink.
"Too true, Moron." Appearing momentarily as Spigot, the fairy yanked Trevor's hair.
"Ouch!" Trevor said, reaching up with his good hand to rub his scalp.
"By the time that stops hurting, we'll be back, Trevor."
Trevor recognised Thyme's efforts to reassure him. "Thyme, Lily - thanks."
"No prob, Duckbreath." Thyme smiled at him and darted away to join Peter.
Lily lifted more quietly. She floated over to kiss Trevor's cheek. "We will see you soon, Trevor." Then she turned to Mari, to give her fingers a squeeze of reassurance. "All will be well, Mari. Healing touches by Katherine and Aristi will do much to sustain him until our return."
Mari nodded, unable to trust her voice to speak. But she briefly grasped Lily's hands in her own, her thanks in her glowing eyes.
*
"How long will it take, Thyme? And how do we meet you? Wouldn't it be better for us to wait near the gate where we entered?" Peter spoke quietly to the fairy.
Thyme shook his head. "We must think of Trevor, but also of ourselves. Lily told me my father had sensed no danger here. He is very attuned to his surroundings, Peter. If he said there was no danger, that is because the hazard was not overt - the Thing that attacked Trevor and Mari was quiescent and therefore, unrecognised. It could yet happen again. However, the Creature's aversion to light may well keep it - and the rest of its kind - away from fairy auras."
"Which is probably why other fairies haven't been attacked here before."
Thyme nodded. "Or the presence of a fairy was not enough to stir this world to awareness. It may have taken the heavy tromping of human feet."
"I would've thought a fairy's big mouth would've been adequate."
Thyme grinned. "There is also the problem of sustenance, Peter. If you do not move on your way, all will begin to suffer from a lack of food. We will join you en route, as you journey towards the far gate. My father assures me we can reach it from our world." Thyme shifted impatiently, anxious now to be on his way. The formality of his words told Peter how concerned he was. "The savings in time will not be great, but -" he lowered his voice, "- may prove enough to salvage Trevor, and dissuade any meat-eaters from losing control."
Peter recognised what he was saying - that he and Lily would never be able to carry enough food to sustain them all - but a "snack" might be enough to persuade the wongnits and the cat-beast to refrain from eating their friends.
Lily joined them. Sensing Thyme's concern, she let her aura delicately interlace with his.
Peter was still worried about the time factor. "When your father spoke of the time involved in returning to my world, was he speaking of flight hours, or walking?"
Thyme ruffled his hair. "Flight hours, Stooge. My father doesn't think in terms of walking." He laughed. More softly, he said, "I count Trevor as my friend, Peter. I - we -" he looked at Lily, "- will not fail him, if it is within our power to aid his recovery. Take good care of him until we get back -" The last words faded as Thyme and Lily joined hands, lifted upward, and sped away in a shower of sparks.
As Peter returned to Trevor's side, he heard his friend say, "He sure knows how to make an exit."
Aristi, who'd taken his son's place on Trevor's chest, smiled at him. "Thyme has always been able to make others aware of his presence." Aristi chuckled, then surprised Trevor by adding, "I believe the word in your tongue is 'show-off'."
Peter nodded. "I'd say that's the right word."
"Not only that," Trevor added. "If he doesn't have anything to show, he invents it." He smiled at Thyme's father. "His only failing is that he has this little tendency to confuse the definition of 'friend' with 'victim'." His face grew serious. "When he gets the definition right though, Aristi, there are few who'd prove more loyal to a friend than your son."
"Enough of this," Aristi said. "My son has entrusted me with your well-being, and it is time for our departure." He turned to Mari. "It is best, I think, that you ride with Trevor this night. Your knowledge of the human condition will be of help, if any problems should arise. Yerly will accompany you." Aristi looked at the other fairy, who nodded in agreement. "Esquiors," he called out, turning next to the winged horses, "who will bear the injured human?"
A hollow, high-pitched neigh broke through the muffled murmurs of the gathering. Zylon, who'd borne Trevor into battle, and later carried him and Mari to safety, drew forward, descending to his knees to aid the others in lifting Trevor on to his wide back. Peter, with Mari's and Katy's help, moved Trevor carefully over a folded wing, then balanced him in place while Mari climbed aboard.
She nodded, indicating she was ready. Peter helped Trevor to position himself so he was straddling Zylon's wings, but leaning back against Mari. She found she was able to balance his weight without undue strain. "Okay, Mari?" Katy asked.
Mari smiled. "Fine."
"Trev?" Peter could see his friend's smile was strained.
Trevor nestled against Mari's chest. "Great. The furniture has superior padding."
To Mari, Peter said, "If Trevor, here, seems inclined to get too cheeky, or if he becomes a pain, just let me know and I'll take your place."
She knew what Peter was really saying, and gave him a grateful smile. "Don't worry, Peter. As long as he keeps his hands on Zylon's mane, we'll be fine."
"Spoil-sport," Trevor mumbled. "Who knows where I might have to put my hands to keep my balance."
Katy smiled at them both, then reached out and clasped Trevor's hand. Concentrating, she transmitted a little more of her strength into his being. Peter interrupted her. "Hold it, Katy. Don't deplete yourself - we've got a long way to go, and I think Trevor's okay for now."
"Peter -" Katy started to argue.
"He's right, Katy. It does make me feel better, but it won't help if you weaken yourself." He turned to wink at Mari, then gave Katy a leer. "Save yourself for me."
"Trev, you're an idiot," Katy said. Peter tossed her up on to Symmerley's back, then hopped up behind her. "Thank you, Symmerley," she said, rubbing his luminescent silkiness. She called out to Aristi. "What about Cyrnol, Aristi? And Melpis and Deron?" She grabbed Peter's leg. "We forgot Mortimer again."
"Jeez, that's right!" He whistled, then called Morty's name.
Morty had decided that the wongnits were the only ones showing enough enthusiasm in their new surroundings. After his initial exploration, he'd joined them in a wrestling match. He was careful not to nip them, and they, in turn, avoided stripping fur or skin from his hide.
Aristi looked displeased at the delays, especially since it involved the wongnits. "Pilas," he asked in esquior, "could you be persuaded to carry Cyrnol or the wongnits?" The great creature stomped nervously, baulking at the idea of carrying such a mighty predator as the cat-beast. "The wongnits?" Aristi persevered.
Peter slipped from Symmerley's back, and whistled loudly for his dog. Before he caught sight of him, a roiling motion in the fog and an unpleasant tang in his nasal passages informed him that Morty was near at hand. "Morty, come!" He patted his leg.
Mortimer came over enthusiastically, leaped against Peter and sent him flopping backwards into the mud. Peter picked himself out from under muddy dog, and lifted the squirming animal across Katy's lap. "He's all yours," he said disgustedly. Symmerley turned to look at Peter, giving him a baleful glare. "I'm sorry, Symmerley," Peter said apologetically. "But I can't very well leave him behind."
Pilas was induced to carry the wongnits. For an esquior, such a thing was torture. Even before he lifted from the ground, he wondered if he'd been too quick to refuse the cat-beast - at least that creature could be trusted to hold still, even if he couldn't trust it with much else.
"Who will carry Cyrnol?" Aristi's tones sounded loudly in the muffling fog. "It will only be for the first part of our journey -" Peter didn't understand the fairy's words, but he picked up the name, "Cyrnol". He could understand the esquiors' reluctance. If Thyme was correct, they might well be hungry before they reached their destination, and he wouldn't like to have a hungry cat-beast on his back, either.
Aristi's last words convinced Tilac, a brazen young esquior, to take a chance. He was anxious to prove his strength, for his youthful body was large and strong, and it pleased him that he could do something that his elders refused to do. Whinnying loudly, as much to draw the attention of the other esquiors as to answer Aristi's inquiry, Tilac offered his back to the cat-beast. "Welcome, Cat!" he said brazenly.
Cyrnol gave him a low growl of warning in reply. After he'd climbed on to the esquior's back, however, Cyrnol rumbled with pleasure. Tilac realised the cat-beast's growl had been as much for show as his own cry of welcome. Cyrnol kept his claws sheathed, and his purr going, as they lifted skyward, to follow the fairy trail across the skies.
***
Chapter Six
Qualice sat on a rock to study his hollow piece of wood - tilting his head and chittering to himself as he pondered a way to make it spray water. He'd determined the liquid needed to be squeezed in some fashion from its container, lest the result be merely a disappointing pouring action, instead of a satisfying squirt. The end of his wooden tube was narrow, but he decided that a spongy piece of cork-like bark might well fit the fatter end. He inserted a length of vine into the cork; holding it in place with a small wooden spike. Although his strength was minimal, his dexterity was admirable, and he was able to manipulate the cork piece into the hollow tube.
He sat down again, and scratched his small head, wondering about the best way to fill this thing with water. He tried pouring water in through the narrow end, but was disappointed to find he'd acquired a mere dribble. Next, he tried pushing his wooden implement under water. This was more successful, and he chittered wildly when pressure on the cork plug unleashed a forceful spray of liquid out the narrow end. Jumping up and down excitedly, he contemplated how to fill his tool without placing it completely in the water. Through luck, and glimmerings of memory regarding the workings of human machinery, he finally succeeded in drawing water up by holding the narrowed tip in the water, and tugging backwards on the cork.
Qualice raced back to the others of his kind, offering proof of his prowess with his newly-tooled, chock-full, and fully functional waterworks. Chittering wildly, the small gnome gave copious evidence of his mastery, as dripping gnomes - shaking themselves and scurrying hurriedly - sought hiding places in the nether regions of the thick undergrowth.
*
Vicki was pensively twirling a fork as they sat waiting for their order to arrive. Edwin was playing a rat-tat-tat drumbeat with his spoon on the table, while Kelwin kept time with his knife on his water glass. Horace was watching Vicki, though - wondering what was bugging her.
"What's up, Vick? Having second thoughts, or are you just getting some vibes from somewhere?" His voice made it obvious he was jesting, but there was an underlying seriousness to his question that required an answer.
"I was just wondering if I've misled you guys." She used her fork like a pointer, singling out him and Kelwin. "This so-called 'gift' isn't something I really have any control over. I mean, if I had to call on it to solve a case, or get more information for an investigation - I just don't know if it would even work."
"That's right." Edwin did a final drumroll, then commented, "But between the two of us, we might be able to pool our insights enough to give Horace and Kelwin something to work with." He lifted his spoon up for the others to see, studying the distortion of his face in the bowl. "For example," he said, "this fine implement has seen its share of action -"
"Duh-h-h," Kelwin interrupted. "It doesn't take ESP to guess that that utensil's been in a lot of mouths."
Edwin eyed down the handle, directing it toward Kelwin. "True. However, touching it gives me a picture of a rather large person, of the feminine persuasion, who was worried about something -"
"Probably her weight," Kelwin snickered.
Horace elbowed him. "Go on, Ed."
"Anyway, she was wearing red. Frowzy, bleached blond. Hair pulled up on one side in would-be exotica. Dammit, I can even smell her perfume -" He shrugged his shoulders. "It's not much, and I don't know when she used it, or even how long ago." He looked at Horace. "If this were an investigation, though, that kind of information might take us a long way."
"If we could trust it." Horace looked uncertain.
"Excuse me for a minute -" Vicki stood up and moved toward the Ladies' Room.
"Is anything wrong with Vicki?" Kelwin asked. "She looked upset."
Horace swivelled to watch her cross the room. "I hope I didn't do it with my 'Doubting Horace' routine. I just have a hard time handling this new development."
"Tell me about it." Edwin plunked the spoon on to the table. "If you think you're having a hard time dealing with this on the outside, you can't imagine what it's like trying to cope with the realisation that you're suddenly not the same person any more. Sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy. I bet that's at least half the reason Vicki broke down and bared her soul. Be gentle with her, Guys. She's having to deal not only with her own feelings, but those of anyone else who chances to enter her head."
*
Thyme and Lily skimmed the top of the fog, moving upward as it began to thin. The ground fell away below them, but they could see it only dimly in the moonlight. Lily kept her aura at a searing brightness, in hopes the light would deter any predators such as the creature who had attacked the humans. Her radiance blinded them to the geographical features below them; limiting them to a shadowy awareness of the darkness beyond the perimeters of their auras.
"Perhaps, Lily, it would be wise to dim your aura - to conserve your energies for later." Thyme spoke knowledgeably, and rather authoritatively, to her in fairy, in an attempt to impress her.
"I cannot, Thyme. I am too frightened. Trevor was so badly injured, and the attack was swift. If it had not been, you or I or Aristi would have been able to warn them." Her shudder made her aura quiver. "We, also, could be subject to such an attack." Thyme shook his head, and she smiled at him, knowing he was going to try to reassure her. She shrugged. "It is of no use, Thyme. Some part of me is afraid, and that part is controlling the brightness of my aura. I could not diminish it at this moment, even if I were to choose to do so. I am sorry -"
As she spoke, hot updraughts of wind surged against them, taking them both by surprise. The force heaved them up, rapidly thrusting them heavenward - to send one fairy aura spinning dizzily across the skies - catching the other in a downdraught and forced spiral toward the unknown darkness below.
As he was drawn away from the source of the wind, the pull on Thyme weakened, and he was able to tug free, far from the place where he'd been captured by the errant updraught. He searched the skies for the bright glow of Lily's aura, but saw only darkness. Looking within, he tried to find her - that special richness that characterised her being - to give himself a beacon to track his way to her side. Uncertain, aware of a fear that chilled him deeply at her lack of response, he sped down, into the darkness, to seek the golden glow that warmed his being.
*
Aristi was aware of his son's unhappiness and fear, but was too distant to offer the younger fairy either assistance or comfort. He shook his head, and Peter, who'd also felt a glimmer of distress, looked to the fairy for enlightenment. "Aristi? Is Thyme all right?"
"And Lily?" Katy inquired urgently.
Aristi turned to the humans mounted on Symmerley, shock evident on his features. "Peter - you have sensed my son's dismay?"
"Yes, Aristi. Are he and Lily okay?"
"I do not know," Aristi responded sadly. "Physically, he is well, but I sense his concern for Lily - I do not know her fate."
Peter squeezed Katy's hand more tightly, in an attempt to reassure her. Aristi's next words, though, did nothing to help.
"If she should perish, Human, my son will never be 'okay' again."
*
Henry stepped back out on his porch, and looked in the direction of Peter's place. He couldn't stop thinking about it, for some reason. He squinted his eyes, trying to focus on the strange colour illuminating the evening sky. Although the blue of day had long been exchanged for the orange and navy streaking of twilight, there was a new radiance on the horizon now - a casting of bold blue that owed nothing to reflected sunlight. Puzzled, Henry stepped off the porch, trying to get a better glimpse of the light source. Shaking his head, he thought about the weirdos now in residence. "What the hell are they doing now?" he muttered. He stomped back into the house, slamming the door behind him.
*
Alexander Westerley sat in his office, nursing his feelings of injustice over a well-earned brew. It was after-hours, but the beer was still a big no-no. He tapped his fingernails on the can - taking out some of his frustrations in the satisfying clink of nail on metal.
"Any more info?"
Westerley jumped when the voice came over the intercom. It was Ignacio's fourth inquiry in the past half hour. He and Cheng were all excited over police reports about a bunch of crazies who'd invaded a local hospital. Apparently, lots of people had been injured, but nobody knew what kind of weapon had been used.
Alex swallowed his mouthful, suppressing a belch that threatened to interrupt his serious tones. "Nothing yet, sir." He burped silently, blowing the air toward the speakers. "Of course, it is late - well after business hours." His hints were blatant, but he knew they'd be ignored.
He shifted over to the hospital records again, comparing background information on patients with discharge dates. He began to understand what his supervisors were excited about. An inordinately large number of patients had been discharged on the morning following the incident. Pulling records, he found that all but a few had been admitted within days - in some cases, within hours - of each other, and all with similar symptoms.
He scanned the monitor, looking for diagnostic information. Gobbledy-goop - a lot of words talking around an obviously nebulous conclusion. He delved further, into records the hospital would never have allowed his agency to have - had they known. Apparently, some patients had been admitted on the critical lists, and others had been added to it as they deteriorated. Then, suddenly, the whole lot of them had been well enough to go home. Except for one.
Kadocian! Kadocian was dead? Hell, he hadn't even known the man was sick. In fact, he smirked to himself, he hadn't even known the man was human enough to be invaded by such things as micro-organisms. If Kadocian was involved - he tapped a pen on the desk - hm-m-m, that must mean Mader's group had something to do with this. Microbes and gene-busters: what the hell had Mader been up to?
He reviewed the admissions file and the list of employers. Humanistic Quality Control was at the top - the majority stockholder in this particular crisis. Christ! Fucking Mader released something to the world, or at least, to his poor employees. The fact that some of those employees may have been responsible for whatever had happened, didn't faze Westerley. He saw them in the same victimised position as himself, and was just relieved that his forté was information assessment, rather than gene-splicing.
He reviewed the patient list again. The last to be treated were the police and security people who'd tried to intercept the invaders. Same symptoms? Yep. Well, that left out a strictly workplace-exposure scenario. He chewed on the end of a pen - all of the injured individuals had been released on the same morning. For some, it was within hours of their admission.
He narrowed his search, pulling together the disparate clues Ignacio had given him. If only he knew what Ignacio and Cheng were looking for - a new weapon? the cure for same? tracking a monster? He laughed, but his mirth died as he studied the varying eyewitness versions. Interviewed individually, the witnesses - both injured and untouched - should have shown more variation. There was too much similarity in their descriptions of the creatures they'd seen. Unwillingly, he felt a shiver creep down his spine as he read one man's horrific encounter with a mucousy blobby thing that had proceeded to suck him dry, shrivelling his skin. Christ! Talk about nightmares!
The scarcely concealed awe apparent in some of the other descriptions, of fairies and Pegasus-like flying horses, of beings with flaming eyes - he glanced at the report - no, make that glowing eyes - things shooting light and sparks, oozing white goo. Despite the unwanted demands upon his time, he was fascinated. If mass hypnosis hadn't been used, then the witness reports were too similar not to have a degree of credibility.
He had it! This must be what Cheng had meant, when he said to look for the unspoken version. Tapping the report in his hand, he picked up several individuals who were amazingly reticent in their comments. There was always the chance they'd avoided saying anything because they were worried about credibility. Most people, however, if given a chance to talk about something like this, in the safety of numbers, would jump at it - any doubts would be lost in the sheer numerical weight of testimony.
Yet these people, for whatever reason, held back. Loyalty? To Mader's outfit? Maybe, but doubtful. Westerley worked for a government agency, too, and loyalty was caught somewhere in the void of guilt, blind patriotism, and fear. Without Mader, whom he remembered as a hellion, to inspire fear, he doubted if there'd be enough residual guilt to bind someone's lips closed.
Blind patriotism? Unlikely. Mader's patriotism was only to himself and his methods. Concerns about heresy over his memory would be a surprise in his employees. No, these individuals were holding back for some other reason - something that had affected them that they weren't talking about - some involvement, knowledge, effect, hidden agenda?
This was the kind of puzzle Westerley enjoyed. He compiled a list of interesting parties, whose testimony required "refinement". He noted that some of the hospital staff were also rather terse in their comments, but this, he decided, was most likely a response to ethical demands, and more information might not be forthcoming.
Excited now, hopeful that his efforts might result in the opportunity to be involved in interviewing the eyewitnesses, he punched the button, to tell Ignacio that he'd compiled the list to comply with Dr. Cheng's "unspoken version".
*
Thyme knifed down through the darkness, a small arrow now spiking swiftly through the spiralling cycles of disturbed air that had captured and flung him so forcefully across the heavens. Water, pulled up from below, swirled in coils as the wind mastered it, tossing it across the terrain. Thyme cut through the circling streams, avoiding the added power of their weight - worried that they may have dashed Lily to the hard surface below.
When he reached the uneven ground, he found it swept by currents of wind, strong and compelling, making it impossible to linger in one place. He searched for the gilt of Lily's aura - willing it to respond to his vision; for the feel of her being to be present in his heart.
But there was nothing. Nothing but the clammy wind, the whining of the windswept foliage, the struggle for position in a constantly moving world.
He surrendered to the force, allowing himself to be carried, as he'd been carried through the skies, by the action of the wind - as his Lily must have been. He thought of her - taken by surprise, caught and held - trapped within a giant vortex. She, like he, could not have escaped without ripping her wings to shreds.
This wind, so close to the ground, was fraught with mechanical turbulence: the friction of moving air rasping the uneven contours of this world, combining with wind shear, to lurch its victims in jolts and eddies. Thyme fought to bring his wings close to his body - folding them flat to avoid having them painfully inverted or torn by the turmoil. If Lily had endured this, where was she now? Had her wings survived? He spared a thought for the pain she would suffer if her wings had been damaged. Shaking his head, he concentrated on surviving long enough to find her.
The wind bore him through a rock shoot, down into a valley, where the fog dwelt thickly in the air. At first, Thyme was relieved - this dense a fog must surely indicate a cessation of wind.
A moment later he was swearing in fairy. What else can I expect in a place where trees burn - yet do not consume?
Of course: fog that defies the wind.
This fog differed from the warm, temperate fogs of the upper regions, where the humans and fairies lingered; this fog glittered in the moonlight, a result of suspended ice crystals that chilled the air. Thyme shuddered, unaccustomed to cold; rubbing the glazing of ice from his body as it formed against his skin. Suddenly, he found himself dodging, as ice prisms lashed him, their pointed brilliance coming achingly into contact with his head and face. Not for the first time, he regretted his small size, realising that these frozen needles would have been far less damaging had he the stature of his human friends.
He wriggled his wings, uncomfortably aware that they were swiftly becoming frozen, and sticking painfully to his person. He avoided expanding them outward, wary of the danger of puncture by the pointy needles. The shafts of wind deposited tiny shards in the creases of his wings, the folds in his skin, the junction of his limbs and torso. He tried brushing them off, but they melted slightly from contact with his heated skin, then refroze as he was pelted by still more frozen crystals. The weight of his ice burden dragged him downward, until he was skimming the surface. As he dropped still further, he began to jolt and bump along the ground, finding small aerial features of the surface by collision, rather than sight.
His reprieve from being wholly dragged and battered came unexpectedly, as the bottom suddenly dropped out of his world. Thyme pitched down into dense blackness, as the wind swept past overhead, continuing on its frozen course. Flung upon the frozen ground, it took a moment for the fairy to orient himself. He twisted rapidly, unaccustomed to the intense darkness; momentarily startled by his own lack of vision. Then, his bemusement clarified as he realised that his own hunched shuddering had resulted in the suppression of his golden aura - an aura that might well be as blue as the rest of me by now, he thought. He squinted his eyes, and concentrated on forcing the warmth of his aura to the surface - spilling light out into the chilled air of the cavern.
He was momentarily stunned by a hoar-frost vision of ice feathers and fans, wrought in frozen beauty on the rocky floor. Never having experienced the effects of ice and snow before, he was temporarily lost to the concerns driving his efforts; caught up in the wonder of glistening aura on glittering ice. He drew a swift breath in surprise.
Thyme spun slowly, flexing his wings within the warmth of his aura, to regain mobility. Sensing some presence behind him, he whirled rapidly, prepared to lift upwards to avoid whatever spectre awaited him in this unknown place. Stopping, he inhaled a pained, icy breath. Horror skittered across his skin, forming a blackness deep inside him. He moaned then - a fairy moan of anguish, of terror, of loss.
He was viewing an ice maiden. Frozen, without benefit of aura or movement; dancing steps melded to the ice fans than traversed the floor and travelled up her legs in stockinged mockery; wings lastingly held in a half-opened posture, lacking the gilt-shot glitz that had always marked her excitement or joy. He moved closer, unwilling to accept the vision before him. He reached out a hand, touching the white dew that lingered on her skin. "Lily," he murmured, searching her eyes for some trace of the golden pulse of her soul - desperate for a revelation that some part of her still lingered in this statuelike parody of the entity he loved. She stood there, solemn and proud, no cringing or huddling posture to negate the cold that had sought and held her. Perhaps she had been offered no time to react, no chance to deny the frozen fate that had awaited her.
He heard a whining rustle of sound behind him. Turning, he saw a something that appeared to be a rotating column of dense, glittering white - rich with ice spicules. It spun, much like mini-tornado, through the cavern. He guessed that it was one such as this that had grasped Lily, and now held her prisoner - her chains the rigid ice that nestled in every crease, and stole the warmth of living tissue from his Lily's skin.
Thyme cursed fluently in his native tongue. He would have to watch his back, then. For even if this moving thing lacked sentience or wisdom, it possessed the speed and primeval power of nature at its most formidable, and could easily grasp a fairy such as he in its icicle grip.
Haunted by the loss that faced him, Thyme yet refused to relinquish the glimmer of hope that lay tantalisingly in the warmth of the night air far above. He remembered how he'd sensed the presence of someone behind him - surely, he would not have felt Lily had she not still lingered within her corporeal being?
Turning back, he grasped her in his arms, briefly alarmed at the way his warmer skin adhered to her icy form. Bringing his aura to its searing peak, he encompassed Lily in the heated passion of his love for her, speaking in musical fluted tones the feelings that his pride had never allowed him to express so openly before: telling her of their oneness, the exquisite blend of their sentient beings - how he would gladly share his aura with her for all eternity - indeed, how that would be the result if this attempt should fail. Engrossed in his fierce determination to free her, he failed to follow the progress of the ice column, until a tingle at his back, and the chilled breath of the swirling wind it generated, offered a warning of its proximity. He lurched sideways, and Lily, unexpectedly, fell with him, tipping rigidly, like a toppled statue. He cushioned her fall, fearful that her frozen wings might chip against the hard floor of the cavern. Flexing his own shimmering wings, surrounding her with the glowing strength of his being, he carried her up, determined to dash through the cold current of air that ran so strongly across the cavern mouth. Like a dart, they spiked out of the cavern, up through the sweeping wind, moving swiftly until they cleared the ice fog; flying ever upward until they reached the temperate climes far above the frozen cavern that had imprisoned them.
Thyme twisted, and heard the glazing of ice, that had held his limbs in thrall, crack in response. "Lily." He murmured it softly. The warmth of her person - if it was, indeed, still trapped within her body - was yet encased within a frozen shell. Nuzzling against her, a small sob shook his being, as he fled with her off across the night skies.
***
