“I’ve noticed in homeroom and lunch period that you have anti-social tendencies and I was hoping we could be friends.”
“You want to socialize with me because I’m anti-social? That makes zero sense.”
“No, it makes perfect sense. You have perfected American teenage self-absorption. You feel put upon, overscheduled and underappreciated. Your plain appearance results in self-esteem issues. You withdraw from others to protect yourself. Please teach me to do this. If I must, I will adopt glasses and braces as you have.”
Cass’s barrage of words was initially confusing, but Joan rapidly progressed from shock to outrage. Fortunately for Cass, Joan got quieter the angrier she became. Thus, it was in a hoarse whisper she retorted, “You are either brain-dead or the meanest girl I’ve ever met, and I’ve met some very mean girls. Just go away.”
This was not the reaction Cass anticipated. He’d assumed this downtrodden human girl would like company in her misery. He reasoned Joan’s surliness was a manifestation of inner turmoil, though he wasn’t interested in learning the causes of the girl’s distress. He just needed a template to copy. Cass hoped to master the angry attitude by emulating the child. Neither anger nor bluntness was going to sway Joan, however, so he fell back on the tried and true “I’m New Here/ Please Help Me” persona, hoping to gain some cooperation.
“I didn’t mean to insult you. You see, I’m Canadian from a very rural place and, and… ”
Joan snarled “Do you think I’m too dense to see you’re making fun of me? Why not just call me Four Eyes or Metal Mouth? Just get out of here.”
“No, please hold on a second. I’m messing this up. You see, I’m too open and friendly for big city life. I need someone to show me how to put up shields and be more introverted.”
Joan stared off to one side. “You don’t need my help. Scar tissue builds up. It happens for all of us. For me it started three days after I walked in here last year when the seniors tagged me with Gloomy as a nickname.” Then with a vindictive glare she said “Guess what they call you already.”
“The seniors call me something?”
“They give all underclass students nicknames. You’re known as Pixie.”
Cass froze briefly; a look of horror on his face. Finally he whispered “No.”
Joan was surprised enough by this reaction to soften her approach. “It’s not that bad. I’ve heard a lot worse. I mean, you are little, blond, and have spooky pale blue eyes.”
Joan, being a human raised in semi-urban circumstances, had never encountered a true Pix Fae. They are tiny, winged, and have spooky eyes. They also have sharp teeth, little spears, and unpredictable personalities. Calling them animalistic is an insult to animals. They are an early version of Fae; originally having developed in the prehistoric era, and they retain wildness similar to badly-raised human toddlers. They never grow out of it. Comparing an Alfaran to a Pix Fae was the ultimate insult.
Cass was shaking. “I’m nothing like a… a pixie.”
“I’m sorry, but ya kinda are. You even have a squeaky little voice.”
“It’s not squeaky. It’s sort of chirpy, like a happy bird call. It’s not annoying, is it?”
“It’s annoying me.”
A tear trickled down Cass’s cheek. “This is terrible. I’m compared to a pixie and I have an annoying voice. This could be the downfall of my social life. It might even bother teachers enough that I won’t get called on in class. It’s… it’s… perfect.” His mood changed the instant he realized his Feeling Outcast goal was in reach.
“Wait. You’re happy about it now?”
“My voice is my Body Image Problem. Vocal chords are part of the body. Joan, I could kiss you.”
“Please don’t.”
Joan thought she’d been dealing with a mean girl, but now she believed Cass was just nuts. Freakishly unstable. Possibly dangerous. In Joan’s estimation, mean was preferable. It was something with which she’d had considerable experience. Crazy was another story. This maniac was unpacking a salad and settling in for the whole lunch period leaving Joan with nowhere to go. All the other tables were occupied by students she’d shunned for a whole year, or freshmen, who were worse.
“We’re gonna’ be tight Joan. I can learn so much about misery from you. I’m sticking with you all year, unless I get paroled.”
“Paroled?”
“I mean… on payroll, like an afterschool job.”
“Um, I’m not sure this is a good idea. I don’t play well with others.”
“Exactly! You are just the role model I’m looking for. We can spend significant time together fending off other people.”
“How much time is ‘significant time?”
“Why? Am I competing with a boyfriend?”
Joan swallowed hard. “I’m not interested in romance with anybody. You’re not looking for a girlfriend, are you?”
“Not really. I just have Gender Identity Issues. And I’m Unitarian.”
##
Joan was not the only target of Cass’s attentions on his second day of school. Though not interested in making large numbers of friends, he guessed he’d need a few unpopular acquaintances while navigating the choppy waters of human adolescence.
During last period chemistry lab he met his assigned lab partner, a boy named Rodger Hamilton. Rodger was tall, but gangly. After exchanging names, Rodger belatedly decided a handshake was in order. Cass felt underwhelmed by the gesture, as Rodger’s grip was flimsy and his palms perspired a lot. Cass was still reticent around human bodily secretions. Once past the uncomfortable introduction however, the boy proved he was really good at chemistry. The first lab session involved a lot of safety advice and names of apparatus. Rodger helped Cass with pronouncing unfamiliar devices and long chemical names. He was confident and unflustered, as long as he was talking science.
At the end of class, Cass attempted casual conversation. Neither he nor Rodger was good at it.
“You’re very bright.”
“Um, thanks. I’ve always liked science, but most people find it boring. Not that you’re boring if you like science. I’m not boring you, am I?”
“A little. Where do you live Rodger?”
“Up on Baker. It’s the other side of Palmer Park, but if you aren’t from around here… I mean… not to make you feel like a stranger, but… ”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Excuse me.”
“I noticed you looking at my chest and thought maybe… ”
“Oh no. Oh God, no. I’m just taller than you so I was looking down, but I wouldn’t… I’m very sorry you thought… I gotta go.”
Cass decided that Rodger was not the kind of boy who’d break a girl’s heart, or even talk to a girl for any protracted period. The senior named Peter seemed like a better bet.
And, given that Cass longed for pain, Peter was the perfect choice.
CHAPTER FIVE
While Cass was trying to shorten his exile in the Realm of Mortals, events were unfolding in the Realm of Fae connected with his now vacant post.
Lynera Esmar stood at attention dressed in her best woolen tunic and cloak while enduring the inspection of Felson Veyar te Willowwalk, Defender of the Clan. Though she’d completed only ninety-five summers, she was skilled with bow, quick knife, and great blade. Only one Clan member could best Lynera at weapon work, and he’d just been exiled. She pushed Cass from her thoughts for fear tears would expose weakness. She could not seem frail before the Defender or he’d never choose her.
“I have heard good reports about you Lynera, but there are others in the Clan with seniority and good standing with the Council. I’m sure you appreciate that our next Knight of Whiteleaf must be exemplary in every way. I cannot afford favoritism in my choice and I cannot permit even a hint of further scandal.”
“I am ready for the responsibility Defender. I have trained for this honor since leaving childhood and understand the full panoply of duties I must fulfill.”
>
Felson paused in his pacing and leveled his gaze at her until she met his eyes. Though fair skinned and apple cheeked like most members of the Clan, Felson’s bright, sapphire eyes could bore through a person until he exposed their very core. “How did you train for this august position Lynera?”
Honesty was required of a Knight of Whiteleaf, so she dared not dissemble now. “I have long watched the prior candidate at his duties.”
“As I thought. You were very close to Caswel Esmar. Did he train you in his philosophy as well as his weapon work?”
Alfarans are not born, so much as recycled. The death of one Alfaran feeds energy back to Nature and She gifts the Realm with another infant. These babes are discovered in the wilderness and adopted by the various Clans. It’s similar to the old human wives’ tale of finding babies under cabbage leaves. In any event, this adoption process means that Alfarans don’t technically have parents, siblings or cousins; just bond name and Clan. Lynera shared both with Caswel and was the closest thing he had to a sister.
He took her under his wing while they were still saplings and she hung on his every word; emulated his every interest. She matched him stroke for stroke with practice blades. She learned all his favorite drinking songs. Her affiliated animal was even a rabbit. Lynera once thought Cass could do no wrong. She still had trouble believing he’d been exiled. He was so joyful, fun-loving and, at least to her, caring. She couldn’t imagine how someone who’d been so good to her could be so callous to humans. Why would he even visit the primitive Realm of Mortals when The Great Grove offered so many amusements?
Felson continued his assessment. “I’m reluctant to remind the Elders of our disgrace by sending them a Knight so closely allied with the Exile. Perhaps after time clouds the memory you might take the post. A new Knight is appointed every two hundred moons.”
“I feel responsible for restoring our honor Defender. I was a close friend with the Exile, but never noticed his forays into the Realm of Mortals. It never occurred to me he was misusing the Gates. If I’d discovered his excesses, I might have convinced him to abandon his folly. I was blinded by my affection for him. Let me atone for this failing.”
“It was his failing, Lynera. Let him atone for it.”
She bowed her head, responding as she examined the ground. “Then let me compete for the honor for myself. I have the skills. Just let me prove it.”
“Very well, but I make no promises.”
Lynera extended and bent her left leg in a small genuflection while touching her right hand to her brow. Felson acknowledged the salute and Lynera turned to go, head held high. She radiated determination. Deep down, she realized that she’d lost her shot at knighthood already, but she was determined to give Felson a demonstration that would always leave him questioning his decision.
##
Kaviss Esmar te Willowwalk joined Felson on the East Meadow where he watched candidates demonstrate their knowledge of quick knife technique. Kaviss was Clan Elder and had significant input regarding the selection of Clan Knight of Whiteleaf.
“It’s an impressive crop you’ve gathered Felson. I’d have no fear putting my safety in any of their hands. Still, your youngest candidate concerns me.”
Felson nodded, having anticipated Kaviss’ surprise at seeing Lynera among the competitors. The Elder knew the history of every member of the Clan and was not blind to the girl’s connection to Caswel Esmar.
“I consented to review her aptitude, but I’m mostly using her to show Thensa how a quick knife should really be wielded. A little humility goes a long way. Right now, I’m leaning toward Zahus Veyar. He’s served as an instructor to my recruits and has a keen mind matched with a stoic outlook. I need someone who’ll take the job seriously.”
“I cannot fault your logic, but might I beg a boon?”
Felson tensed, but was not about to deny an Elder. “By all means.”
“Please let Lynera know she was not selected before the choice is announced at Council.”
Felson smiled. “I’d intended to do that anyway. She’s an excellent student and I have another offer for her to ease the pain.”
Kaviss coughed. “Another offer? You remember she’s an Esmar, don’t you?”
“So are you, if memory serves. Are you having second thoughts about Caswell’s exile?”
“Oh no.”, replied Kaviss. “The boy needed to be taught a lesson. Despite his rather casual attitude toward duty, he’s one of the best weapon workers you’ve ever instructed and he’s capable of improvising in difficult situations. I’m sure he’ll return a changed man.”
Felson laughed. “I don’t see how he could avoid it.”
##
I do sleep occasionally, when my operatives let me. It was three hours before dawn when a partridge pecking at my ear dragged me from slumber. I attempted to shoo it away, but it quickly morphed into an unusually chubby Alfaran from Clan Deepcleft.
“Interloper, I have urgent news from one of the cavern Fae Gates.”
I struggled free of my covers. “It would have to be urgent to send you flying here personally, Naros. What happened?”
“This Gate connects to a grotto in Eritrea, Africa. The Mortal side was attacked by a Night Predator.”
I was still a little groggy, so I wasn’t sure I’d heard correctly. Night Predators are shape-shifting horrors from the Realm of Dreams. “We don’t have any Gate connections with the Dream Realm.”
Naros sighed. “I’m aware of that. Someone in the Mortal Realm summoned it and sent it after the Gate. That means there’s a powerful magician among Mortals who knows where our Gate is located.”
I offered him tea and a spare tunic. We discussed the state of our world for two hours. I assured Naros that I was recruiting Wardens as quickly as possible. I did not mention the more desperate plan I’d agreed to with Kaviss.
CHAPTER SIX
Esmeralda Shafil was puzzling to me. Until she’d accused Cass in front of the Elders, I’d heard little about her, or Clan Glenhollow for that matter. Everything I knew about her was from observing her attempts at revenge, and her motives seemed contradictory. She wanted Cass to suffer humiliation or defeat, but wasn’t clear on what she meant by that. I had the impression she was a skilled practitioner of air magic, but this affinity came paired with an inner turmoil that drove her moods to extremes. She rode the hurricane more often than she stood in the eye.
Esmeralda made minimal preparations for her pursuit of Caswel, but she’d remembered to pack bait. She intended to acquire the assistance of a particularly nasty critter in order to make her quarry’s life unpleasant.
She removed an odd item from her bag, setting it on the ground. Sitting on a bench within sight of the trinket, she casually pretended to ignore it. The twisted piece of iron was known as a Conestoga Playmate. The object of the puzzle was to remove a solid ring from two, linked longer frames and a suspended triangle. Esmeralda had no idea how to solve it, but knew it would be an irresistible attraction to a Grimel Kin.
The creature would be invisible in daylight, but any attempt to take the puzzle somewhere for study would reveal the Grimel Kin’s presence to Esme. She would respond to any movement of the item with a freezing spell, using heightened agility granted by her air magic and her affiliation with hawks. Any Grimel Kin wouldn’t have a chance against that speed. Esmeralda hoped Cass would be similarly disarmed.
As dusk settled, the tavern puzzle began sliding slowly across the grass. A shadowy figure was just noticeable near the prize, crawling on his belly to create a lower profile. Esme pounced like a bird of prey and slowed the small creature with a blast of cold air. He howled.
Grimel Kin are genderless beings but, because they have an obsession with gadgets, they tend to be thought of as male.
The creature responded to Esme’s attack with outrage. “Arrr… Witch! Conjurer! Leave me be.”
“Look upon me, wretched oaf. I’m no hedge mage. I’m Alfaran.”
“Worse and worser.
Alfarans are all dirt and wind; lake and flame. You neither build nor tinker. Be gone back to your own Realm. The Kin have no use for you.”
Esmeralda placed a foot on the Grimel Kin’s chest, pinning him to the ground. “I have use for you and I’m willing to pay for the aid. I can direct you to many human gadgets and provide many mechanical amusements for you. But if you refuse, I have ways to make your pathetic existence even more unpleasant.”
The Grimel Kin screwed up his face in disgust, but recognized that Esmeralda was probably correct. “How will you pay?”
“I have more trinkets like the one that drew you here,” she lied. “I will give them all to you if you do a bit of sabotage for me.”
“This seems acceptable. No fairy tricks though.”
She snorted derisively, but let the gray-skinned, hairless Dream Dweller rise to his feet. They both moved into the lengthening shadows of the trees. “What’s your name Grimel Kin?”
“You can call this one Wigout. I have recently come to this place. The large city to the west was crawling with Kin. Wigout needed more space. What name is yours?”
“Call me Mistress. This is my desire. There’s a girl living here. She’s shorter than me; light yellow hair that’s almost silver. Her eyes are pale blue. She goes by Cassandra and attends Our Lady of Abundant Mercy.”
Wigout hissed revealing jagged, rusty teeth. “This is not a place will go. The cross bearers despise Dream Dwellers. There will be protections.”
“Fool! That was ages ago. Christians don’t ward against magic any more. Humans hardly believe in it.”
“No cross bearers! Where this girl live?”
“I’m not certain. You can follow her home from school. I want every device she touches to fail. Make her life wretched.”
Wigout scratched his nose. “What she do, steal your man?”
“My motives are not important. If you want payment, follow my directions.”
Wigout’s question brought the whole story to her mind, easily plucked by an unscrupulous spy like me. Because Alfarans have long lives and no concern about reproduction, their intimate relationships can be varied and interesting, but they do not talk about it. They especially don’t talk about it with non-Alfarans. In Esmeralda’s case, she did not talk about her relationship with Cass. I, on the other hand, have no such reservations.