Into The Forest
By Elena Snowfield
Published by Publications Circulations LLC.
SmashWords Edition
All contents copyright (C) 2014 by Publications Circulations LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this document or the related files may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means (electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, companies and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
~ ~ ~ ~
The Myth Before The Story
Madala was a large island country, covered in mountains, plains, and forests. To walk from the southern to the northern point takes approximately two weeks without stopping to rest. There are several cities along the southern coast where the shoreline offers opportunity for trade. Other cities and small towns were scattered in the fields of the country's center, rich in agriculture.
To the north, cliffs line the ocean, making it almost impenetrable to attacks from invaders. The Forest of the north spans a little under a hundred miles, hiding various abandoned castles that had been left in the early centuries of the land.
Over time, witches had been driven off by the invading humans and civil wars raged. The witches fled to the Forest where they could practice their dark magic in peace.
It was not uncommon to stumble upon magic in the land of Madala. Magical artifacts and creatures were sold in the markets. Those who had and practice magic could be anyone from street performers to politicians. Magical energy flowed almost like a river from the depths of the Madalan Forest where its source was the creatures that had rested for countless centuries even before the time of humans.
To help the inhabitants of Madala who had come to the island country to better understand magic, three books were created by the ancient witches who had long since disappeared.
The more common of thinkers referred to these books as the Book of Birth, the Book of Life, and the Book of Death.
Throughout the centuries, all but one of these books left the island country as they were passed back and forth between the hands of sorcerers, warriors, and kings by war's end. The remaining book, the Book of Life, remained safely in the hands of a young witch by the name of Abrielle.
The witch had come to the country of Madala as a human and had taken an apprenticeship with an ancient sorceress. She received the Book from the sorceress to guard and learn from. To gain immortality, a dragon had come to her and agreed to share his soul with her in exchange for her love. And she contained the proof of their bond in a small stone which she kept at her breast.
There it shone a brilliant red, beating in time with her heart. It bound him to her for the rest of their lives as described in the ancient Book and allowed her use of his magic after years of companionship.
And so they spent the centuries together. While she kept his soul and shared his magic, the dragon remained in the form of a human to stay as close to her as he could. Abrielle studied the Book each day, learning more and more about the secrets of life.
To keep the Book safe, the witch Abrielle remained in the very northern point of Madala, nestled in the Forest where blizzards and dangerous creatures would deter anyone from finding her or her beloved.
All except those who were most determined... and one day, some humans had somehow made their way to the northern castle and had fired their bows at the witch.
"Please don't die, Abrielle... please...!" sobbed the dragon man. Blood stained his fingers as he tried to cover the wound on his lover's chest. But the light of the crimson-colored stone on Abrielle's breast flickered dimly... until the witch's pulse slowed and the final breath of life slipped from her lips.
The man roared to the sky as he tried to cope with a pain so powerful that he couldn't contain it. Why didn't she protect herself? She was so powerful... and only a spelled arrow could have felled his love. How could this happen?
But though the witch might have lived for countless years, and she might not have aged but in the end, she was still human. She was still mortal. She could die just as easily as any other. She would not use her magic to hurt another. It was his sworn duty to protect her.
Why hadn't he been here?
Rage flashed in his red eyes and he let her fall gently to the snow-frosted stone. With another roar, leather wings burst from his back and his body contorted and grew. Then in his place stood his true self -- a mighty dragon, his scales as red as the fallen's blood on the snow.
He spread his terrible wings and took off into the sky, searching for those who had murdered his lover. Trees burned into ash and the flames licked at the singed ground. The bodies of the hunters were reduced to nothing, and smoke filled the sky so that nothing could be seen.
They never had the chance to see the dragon coming before they were burned.
The dragon flew back to the castle, snow and smoke burning his eyes as he crashed to the stone balcony over the sea raging a hundred feet below.
Her body was still there, eyelashes flecked with ice. Her red-brown hair blew around her face in the gust from the dragon's wings. Her lips, once tinted pink and always pulled back into a sweet smile, were now tinted blue with no hint of life in them. The book was open beside her, pages flipping in the wind.
The dragon curled its claws around the Book, piercing the tome. The secrets of life had been completely useless. No matter how much she had learned, the witch had been helpless against her murderers' evil hearts. When she was alive, she had given the humans the secrets of sharing the souls of magical creatures, allowing them to extend their own power in what they referred to as "Soulytes." She had wanted to help. She was the kindest witch in the universe.
But they had shown no gratitude-or maybe they had just forgotten over the centuries-and had sent out their hunters to destroy the witches of the Forest.
The book shuddered in his grasp, a strange energy pouring from it as his claws dug deeper and deeper. He released his grip and darkness pooled from the bores, soaking the snow in inky black.
The life was draining from it, spreading its very death into the snow and stone and trees, staining everything with the deepest of black, empowered by his desire for justice and revenge.
The dragon tossed the book aside, and the falling snow turned black upon touch. He curled around the witch, his enormous body keeping her body warm with his inner fire. His eyes, full of hate, watched as the black crept to the Forest.
And soon everything he could see was engulfed in darkness....
ONE
CITY OF KINSWICK was bustling with far too many people than the small city could handle. The sun was high in the sky as Residents and visitors alike squeezed and slid against each other in the tight confines of the market in the town square. Despite the limited space, children weaved and wriggled their way through the mess of legs and limbs, nearly tripping up several angry shoppers. Women with arms laden with heavy baskets of produce yelled at each other across the way, negotiating their sales over the noisy din. The air smelled of sweat, meats, fish, bread, and spice.
Panic and tension hummed throughout the crowd as people were stocking up on food in an absolute frenzy due to the impending famine. But for every purchase of the necessary staples, the good citizens of Kinswick bought charms and talismans as well.
Good luck, protection, and prosperity charms were certainly in high demand. Every amulet and magical item was being snapped up as fast as these o
ld wizards could make them.
It would seem that the food shortage and scarcity of resources had put everyone on edge and made them superstitious.
However, there were still some who were less concerned with the gravity of events and instead more preoccupied with other interests.
A young man scanned the various counters and displays of the market. He was a tall lad, barely out of his teens but had the body that told of long hours with an axe and woods. His face had that beguiling look associated with handsomeness and naivete. He clearly was from one of the back-end farm villages.
He was dressed in a blue tunic and pants with a brown leather vest layered over it. A brown belt encircled his waist, keeping his sheathed sword fast to his side. Around his neck was a thin chain that led towards a pendant lay hidden under the collar of his tunic.
He reached up to comb his fingers through the unruly mop of black hair in a weak attempt to tame it into submission. He should have cut it shorter, but when he learned that he was going to come here, there was nothing else that occupied his mind but his mission and that was simply forgotten.
As he wandered down the path lined with stalls, he found himself gawking at a booth that held a bright display of faeries. Against the walls of the tent were shelves that carried jars upon jars of the glittering creatures.
The boy took a quick look around and found the stall's shopkeeper busy with haggling with another customer. Encouraged by the lack of attention directed at him and his growing curiosity with the contents of the jars, the boy inched towards one of the shelves.
Upon closer inspection, he found that each jar contained a quiet sprite sitting patiently at the bottom of their glass jar, their chins resting on the tops of the knees that they hugged closely to their chests. Their glittering, translucent wings were folded around them.
The boy picked up one of the jars and examined it. The fairy inside straightened up and fluttered its wings. It put its hands on the glass to stare back at the boy. He felt sympathy for the poor creatures. But he knew the consequences of setting them free. And he wasn't supposed to. Could he?
He could, if he could afford to buy at least one of them. He could afford one, could he? He fingered the few coins he had in a small pouch cinched inside his tunic as he looked at the other jars and other fairies.
All the faeries looked similar, he thought in surprise. All of them had the same glowing pearly skin that looked like it was lit from within. Their shimmering bodies seemed to be made of nothing but light shaped into some humanoid creature.
They had no clothes, no hair, no defining features that helped one tell them apart-but all of them were undoubtedly beautiful. But their lights flickered dully inside the glass. Maybe it was because of their captivity? He felt more pity for the poor fairies.
"See anything you like, young master?"
The boy jumped at the voice, nearly dropping the jar that he was inspecting. He scrambled to return to replace the jar and ended up shoving it roughly back with the other items with more force than he had intended, cringing at the thought of rattling the little fairy inside it more.
Then he found himself looking up at a tall, bald man wearing a sleeveless, dust-colored tunic. The shopkeeper looked like he had seen his fair share of battles, judging from the pale scars that ran down the length of his muscled arms. He stood with his arms crossed, looking down at the awkward youngster with amusement.
"You got a name, young man?" the shopkeeper asked, trying to put him at ease.
"C-Cyrus," the boy stammered. Hadn't he told himself that to be a hero, he had to overcome this terrible shyness that had plaqued him his whole life? "I, um, was just looking at some of your m-merchandise," he said weakly. Cyrus swallowed but managed to croak out, "I am, um, a... a..."
"Let me guess," the man chuckled, slapping a hand on Cyrus' shoulder, causing him to flinch. "You look like a Hero-in-training to me. And," The bald-headed merchant sized Cyrus up, "You look like you're on your first big journey of discovery." The shopkeeper made a sweeping gesture while he continued, "Brand-new, unused sword, no Soulyte match, that look of uncertainty in your eyes... I see kids like you every day."
Cyrus ran a defensive hand over the hilt of his sword. Was it so obvious that he had never, ever used it before? But he wasn't actually inexperienced in sword fights. He had practiced with his uncles and other male relatives in the clearing in the woods near their village and he had done well, he believed. But in those fights, he used old, used swords. This sword had been a farewell present from his parents so he thought he'd save it for an absolute emergency. It was too precious to be scuffed in something meaningless.
"So," the merchant continued, "I believe I may at be able to sell you something useful, Sir Hero." He grabbed a random jar from a nearby shelf and held it up. "I saw you looking at my fine collection of faeries earlier. Perhaps we can find you a Soulyte match."
The young man's eyes lit up. "Yes! Let's do that!" Cyrus exclaimed as he took a chain from around his neck and pulled out a pendant from beneath his tunic. He then held the round amethyst crystal in his upturned palm.
The gem glowed faintly with swirling colors of dark and light purple and light amethyst.
The merchant set the jar back in its place and gestured towards the rest of the display.
"Test them out, Sir Hero-to-be. My shop is at your disposal. Just think of the possibilities!"
And with that, the shopkeeper turned to attend to another customer.
With their mysterious powers, Faeries were one of the very few creatures that could act as a Soulyte match. Their most prominent ability, teleportation, has proven to be very useful to many a hero or hero-in-training in getting them out of unsavory situations, not to mention, getting around the vast land of Madala. Soulyte matches were loyal to their human masters, assisting with magic and acting as trusty travel companions. It was rather difficult to find a match however, as there were hundreds, even thousands, of Soulytes.
Of course, there was a matter of actually finding them. Some people were either lucky enough to secure one on their own or to at least find a merchant skilled enough to have captured some and buy it off of them instead. He hadn't been lucky in that regard.
But he needed a Soulyte match to become successful as a Hero. Cyrus had already been to multiple markets throughout the land with no luck. He had never heard of a Hero without a Soulyte match, so he felt that it was his duty to keep searching until he found one.
He held out his crystal close to a jar and the faerie inside it stood up and stared into the swirl of colors. Slowly, the faerie's constant white glow gradually turned to a vivid red. Cyrus shook his head and pulled his Soulyte away. Wrong color. Red signified that it was no match. He must find a fairy who could exude lavender to a dark violet hue.
There were still a couple of shelves to try so he moved to the next one.
The next faerie turned neon blue with fringes of green when presented with the crystal. After that, he encountered a golden one, then a sea-green one, and then a blood-red, and an orange one. But not a hint of purple yet.
Cyrus went through several more, making it halfway through the second to the last shelf before the merchant stopped him.
"I might be able to direct you to another shop in the neighboring city," the man said gently. "I don't think I have any faeries of your color. The rest in this row are just blues and a silver."
Cyrus groaned. "Are you sure?" he persisted.
"Well, you're welcome to try. But that one doesn't even light," said the shopkeeper, pointing to the jar in Cyrus' hand.
The young man peered into the glass only to find the faerie shooting him a nasty glare. He took himself back, surprised. None of the other fairies had been so... rude. But he was already here, and it would be worth a try...
He then held up his Soulyte closer to the jar. But the faerie refused to cooperate, whipping its head away from the crystal's light.
The merchant laughed. "That's a stubborn one, alright," he said
. "Haven't gotten it to light up for anyone yet. Most faeries I know can't control their Soulyte, but this one certainly tries."
Cyrus refused to give up. He cajoled the little fairy like a child. "Come on, faerie. At least take a look at it," Cyrus urged. "It's beautiful." Hadn't he heard that fairies really like gems?
The creature rebuffed all of his pleads and attempts, not even looking at the gem until its jar was set back down by a disappointed Cyrus.
But as soon as it thought the coast was clear, the faerie turned its head and its eyes turned wide.
It had seen the gem, and was immediately held captive by the Soulyte.
Meanwhile, a dejected Cyrus was about to stuff the crystal back into his tunic when the merchant gripped his arm to stop him.
The faerie, having been released from its enthralled state started to throw a fit, hitting the smooth walls of the jar with its tiny fists and letting out a strange yell that sounded like an angry chirp.
"Hmm." the merchant murmured, raising a brow while he took in the faerie's reaction. "Take your Soulyte out again, young man," he instructed.
Cyrus obeyed and held out the crystal. The faerie tried to escape the beam of the crystal but to no avail. The sprite then shuddered for a moment and then, it burst into a bright array of colors that perfectly matched those in the hero's crystal.
Cyrus laughed-unable to hold back his absolute glee at the discovery. The merchant scratched his chin, his brows still lifted. He was deep in thought but a small smile was playing on the corners of his lips.
"How much is it?" Cyrus asked eagerly as he dug out his leather purse from beneath the folds of his tunic.
The merchant once again took a hold of his arm to stop him.
"Hang on, Sir Hero," the shopkeeper said. "I don't know if you really want that one or not. It's rather... free spirited. Unpredictable. I can't guarantee a refund if it slips away on you-"
"I'm not worried about that," Cyrus dismissed the merchant's concern. "Faeries are loyal, right?" He picked up the jar and spun around excitedly, causing the faerie to tumble and sway in its glass enclosure. He paused in his merriment to pay the merchant with a small handful of jewels.
"Well, if you're sure," the merchant mumbled, pocketing the lad's payment. "But I would recommend not letting him out of that jar for at least half a fortnight. And when you do, keep a close eye on him so he doesn't fly off. Faeries can find food for themselves easily so you don't need to do anything except be a kind and good companion."
"It's a boy?" Cyrus asked.
The merchant shrugged. "Most that wander this way this time of the year usually is. The females remain in the east until mating season. But with the famine coming in from the Forest, who knows? As you can see, it's not exactly receptive to being examined."
The young man nodded, still watching his faerie. The creature looked less than pleased as it sulked at the bottom of the jar. Cyrus had to wonder what exactly triggered the faerie to light up at the sight of his Soulyte.
And now that freedom from the glass jar was within reach, why wasn't it thrilled, at least?
But Cyrus didn't give much thought to his moody faerie. All that mattered now was that he had one and he was on his way!
After all, it was time for an adventure!
TWO
NIGHT FELL as Cyrus and his Soulyte traveled across a particularly empty stretch of land. Only a few trees dotted the landscape. Long grass swayed in the faint breeze.
Cyrus veered off the path and into the grass, padding down the stalks to set down the pallet from his back.
He placed his belt and sheath along with his sword beside it and the jar. His faerie had become restless, its wings fluttering constantly against the side of the glass.
"I guess it wouldn't hurt to let you out," Cyrus muttered, sitting cross-legged on his pallet.
He remembered the merchant's warning, but Faeries were supposed to be loyal. And after being cooped up in a jar for a long time, who wouldn't want to get out?
He began to twist the lid.
The faerie flashed in excitement.
"Okay faerie, just stretch out your legs and-"
Hardly a moment after the lid had been loosened, the faerie burst out of the jar and shot like a shooting star past the horizon, disappearing in the sea of swaying grass.
Cyrus couldn't believe it. It took him a while to get his gaping jaw working again.
"Wait!" he shouted in the direction where the faerie had escaped to. He scrambled to his feet, heart thumping. It was just his luck to have lost it this early in his journey.
Snatching up his sword, he struggled through the grass in the light's disappearing direction. The sharp-bladed grass cut his exposed hands as he ran clumsily. Small briars caught on his leggings and cotton tunic. The moon was covered by wisps of clouds, making it more and more difficult to see.
Hours passed to no avail.
Exhausted and covered in scratches, Cyrus found his way back to his pallet, ready to wait, trying to hope, trying to believe his Soulyte would go back to him to accompany him in his journey.
DAWN BROKE over the sea of grass. Still, Cyrus decided to wait just a little longer. Perhaps his faerie only got overexcited and flew a little further away than it had intended.
He kept a sharp eye out for any movement but soon, his eyelids were unbearably heavy and he had to prop his chin on the blade of his sword to keep from dozing off.
At high noon he was still awake, albeit barely. He was a naive young man whose thoughts never considered the possibility that his faerie would never return. There had never been a story about a Hero who had lost his companion. Right?
His stomach groaned for attention, but still he waited.
Suddenly, there was a sharp scream of a bird in the distance.
Cyrus's head shot up.
His heart leapt when he saw a white flash racing towards him but just as quickly dropped when he saw it wasn't his faerie that had made the noise.
Behind his frantic companion was a tawny falcon, barreling in at a ridiculous speed. Cyrus whipped his sword into the air. The faerie whizzed into his tunic.
Then the falcon screeched and crashed into the blunt end of the sword and Cyrus fell back from the impact.
The falcon squawked at him after falling in a daze to the ground, then took off shakily in the opposite direction. He followed it with his eyes, hardly believing what had happened. When he was sure that the falcon had gone, Cyrus peeked into the collar of his tunic and saw the interior lit up by the faerie huddled on his stomach.
He beamed. It's back! Thank the heavens and gods!
"The bird is gone," he coaxed. "You can come out now if you promise not to fly away again."
The faerie let out its strange little cry but fluttered out of the dark blue fabric and onto Cyrus's shoulder. It would not look at him and instead pulled up its knees and rested its chin on them.
Cyrus didn't care. At least now his faerie wouldn't go wandering off, considering that wasn't the only falcon in the area or the only predator that would try to make it a meal at first glance.
A small heat emanated from the faerie, making his shoulder and the side of his face warm. He thought it comforting. It meant he wasn't alone, even if he was with a companion who clearly didn't want to be with him.
The smile didn't leave his face the entire way to the nearest city.
THREE
THE CITY of Jacen was smaller than Kinswick. There were no impassable crowds to bustle through. There were no stalls of magical tools or companions. There was a baker shouting out sales to disinterested people and sour-faced residents in a hurry to get somewhere-anywhere but here.
Cyrus glanced around.
Now that his faerie had returned he thought it was as good a time as any to find food.
He walked towards the baker and the heavenly, crisp smell of fresh-baked delights. The baker promptly turned the other direction with a sneer.
"Sir? I only want to buy some bread."
> Without a word the huffy old man shuffled into his shop, leaving Cyrus standing in the cobbled street confused.
"Can I help you?"
A young woman about Cyrus's age appeared behind the Hero, catching him off-guard. He jumped and twisted, almost knocking his Faerie off of his shoulder in the process. He blinked a few times and a lump grew in his throat, growing so horribly big that it was impossible to even croak a word, especially
The woman was petite with curling dark brown hair. She wore simple clothes of dyed green cotton, the norm for people in the impoverished city of Jacen. They fit snugly around her waist and hips. A large, loose collar encircled a narrow neck. She wore a single dangling, silver earring in her left ear. As she stared at him, Cyrus saw that her eyes were a deep green like her dress.
He shook his head, causing his black hair to fall over his eyes.
"Are you sure?" she asked, cocking her head to see under his bangs. "This city isn't too friendly with outsiders ever since the famines started. I'm sure you could use someone to help you out."
He backed up, tripping over his own feet. His heel caught and he tumbled backwards onto his rear. His faerie flew off, chirping at him while hovering a good two feet above his sprawled form.
But it was the girl... he wished he could melt like water and disappear on the ground as she giggled. Instead, Cyrus flushed a bright scarlet.
He scrambled back to his feet, quickly adjusting his belt and sheath before briefly bowing and running in the opposite direction. The faerie flew after him, chirping in annoyance. It caught up once Cyrus entered a small shop of dried meats and preserves. But he still could not speak, he could not tell her how he would involuntarily turn into a stupid, mindless dolt once he's facing a female. The only other female he could easily talk to was his mother, and she didn't count. It did not help his terrible shyness -- a malady, really -- that they lived a little further away from the other houses in the village, and he had never developed the skill or the courage to talk to a single girl growing up.
The shopkeeper scowled as he picked out foods for the journey. Cyrus kept his head low and placed the items on the shop counter. He slipped some jewels out from his sleeve and started to gather the meat into leather pouches from his pack. The shopkeeper glared at the jewels but snatched them up and put them into his pocket.
"Now, go," he growled. "You have no more business here."
Tying the full bags to the side of his pack, Cyrus obeyed without a word. He exited the shop and glanced in the direction of the girl. On a hunch, he decided to go the long way around to avoid her altogether. The faerie pulled at his ear towards the shorter route as if to question why he was making a hassle.
When he ignored it, it sat on his shoulder again, shaking its little head, and pouted.
FOUR
AS SOON AS the city receded from view, Cyrus finally began to speak again.
And speak he did.
If the faerie had pupils, Cyrus could have been able to tell that its eyes were rolling.
"-and it's not that I even know why. It just happens. I can't talk to girls. I've never been able to. Maybe it was because of my mother; she always told me that girls only caused trouble. Turned out she'd rather send me to the Forest than have me married off."
The faerie was slumped on its stomach, staring vacantly into the distance. It had been at least two hours since Cyrus started on his rant and explanations of why exactly he was completely useless in front of women, among other things. Even if he wasn't sure it could understand him.
"Now, I'm old enough to know better. I think seventeen's a good age to start settling down and I want to get to know women but I can't seem to talk to them. Or look at them. Or be near them..." He was making wild gestures with his hands and threw them down in a huff. "I'm pretty pathetic, aren't I?"
The faerie chirped and didn't bother looking up. It was enough to tell him the little thing thought it too pathetic to merit attention.
Cyrus sighed and noticed his steps were becoming slow. He was tired. He remembered that he hadn't slept at all the previous night because of waiting for his Soulyte mate to come back. But he didn't like to lose daylight so he kept moving north while he could still see in front of him.
He walked, to the point of exhaustion.
When the sun did begin to set, he found a hill right next to the path where a small river wound nearby through the countryside below. He took only enough time to throw down his pack at the base of the only tree on the hill and collapse in a heap, using the lumpy bag as a pillow.
He pulled his faerie in towards his chest. The night breeze was a little chilly. He knew he didn't want any predators coming after his companion again. The faerie's glow gave off enough of a beacon for the night's hunters so he tried to hide it. The faerie struggled at first, but gave in to the soft embrace, realizing it, too, was tired. Its wings fluttered before it stilled, drifting into a peaceful slumber with a contented sigh.
Cyrus was asleep when suddenly, a sharp pain exploded behind his eyes. There were some shouts and a yell from the faerie. He fumbled for his sword, momentarily blinded but ready to fight for all he was worth.
When the black dots in his vision ebbed well enough for him to see again, Cyrus saw that he was surrounded by three men. The largest one held a large war-hammer, the two others wielded daggers.
One of the dagger-holders was struggling with a leather pouch. The pouch glowed with the familiar purples of Cyrus's Soulyte.
They had his faerie.
He shouted in rage. But the largest of the trio swung out his hammer, narrowing missing Cyrus's head as he dodged. The one with the pouch turned and ran down the hill to the bank of the river.
Cyrus pursued him without a second thought. He couldn't lose his faerie. Not again. Not to mention what these scums would do to it if he would let them have it. No way.
Fortunately, his large foe was slow and unable to move very quickly. But the smaller man that was covered from head to toe in dark clothes made up for that. Lithe and swift, he quickly overtook Cyrus and tackled him to the soft earth, sending them both tumbling to the bank of the rushing waters.
A sharp crack told Cyrus that his assailant hit his head hard on a rock so he wriggled free of the other man's grip, frantically running after the one holding the pouch. The thief was about halfway across the river, hopping cautiously from stone to stone! Cyrus sped in his direction, disregarding all safety as he sprinted across the slick stones.
Almost three feet from him, Cyrus's foot caught on a loose stone. He plummeted forward, snagging the assailant's legging and pulling him into the freezing current. As they both struggled, the thief had dropped the pouch. It was drifting swiftly downriver!
His first thought was to catch it, of course. He reached for it, flailing frantically in the water to catch the drawstring. Then he managed to grab hold of it and with his teeth he bit at it to free his hand so he could tear open the sodden leather with his teeth before his fairie drowned.
The drawstring loosened and the faerie flew out like a comet. He laughed in relief.
And that was when he remembered the little fact that he couldn't swim, and that he had stayed afloat only because the swiftly-moving current kept knocking him against the stones and boulders that littered the river. Unfortunately, they were growing fewer and farther between the longer downriver he drifted. To his horror, his head had begun to be pulled under by the current that he could no longer see where the thieves were.
His eyes refused to stay open in the sting of the freezing water. And his lungs burned thought he still kept trying to take in breaths.
Arms flailing miserably, he finally was thrown close enough to the bank to grab hold of a bush. The problem was he hadn't had enough strength to pull himself up. Just a little while in the cold and he was exhausted beyond belief! It was taking what little remained of his strength to pull himself out of the water.
He knew his faerie was there, flitting to and fro, chirping frantically in its stra
nge little voice. He could hear it everytime. As his exhaustion overwhelmed him, he thought that it, at least, was safe and alive.
Then he thought, as he slid back helplessly into the water, that he would die before he could prove to himself that he could be a brave hero... as he had dreamed all his life...
FIVE
BUT THE NEXT moment, something happened.
It was a just a second.
And he was suddenly lying in soft grass, wheezing the icy water from his lungs. When he finished, he felt like his whole body was aching like he'd never hurt before. His tunic, undershirt, vest, leggings, and boots were soaked all the way through and he was shivering violently in the breeze -- but he was out of the water, and he was alive.
He opened his eyes. His faerie was perched on his chest, gazing at him with what he was sure of as concern.
It took him a few minutes to think about what could have happened. And he smiled when he realized that he had been transported. And it was because of the fairie.
That's why Heroes have companions, isn't it? They are there to assist us with magic.
Weakly, Cyrus reached up a hand and patted his faerie on the head as gently as he could. "I'm glad you're okay," he whispered.
Then he closed his eyes, forgetting all about the bandits, because he was desperate for sleep.
CYRUS WAS asleep. Or he was when he felt warmth on his lips. It was also soft.
But it wasn't cloth. It wasn't just skin. It felt like...
His eyes shot open.
And he saw his faerie kneeling down, kissing his lips softly, lingeringly. Before he could even comprehend if he was really kissing him or it was some other thing Soulytes do for their hero, that it was not a faerie sitting on him anymore. But rather, a young woman.
A young, naked woman.
She seemed as shocked as Cyrus was, but with the happy kind of shock instead of just being stone-shocked. The woman quickly jumped off with a shriek that turned into a laugh as she clapped her hands.
"The spell is broken!" she squealed. "Ah! Finally! I've been a stupid faerie for months!"
She crawled back over to Cyrus who had almost passed out from then if he wasn't so dumbstruck.
She's a she.
It's a woman.
A young woman... a butt-naked woman who was just within arms' reach, who was right now wrapping her naked arms around his neck!
Sweet lord above... sweet heavens... a woman...
"Thank you, Cyrus! If I had known it would just take a kiss... I would have-"
Cyrus looked at her while his head spun. The other words just passed and he wasn't hearing them, so shocked was he. But he still managed to see that she was small and probably younger than he. Her hair was long and thick and the color of moonlight, a glowing silver in the night air.
She looked beautiful. And again, naked.
And if it weren't for the fact that it was covering her nudity, Cyrus might have died at that very moment.
"I... but... you..." He tried to speak. And failed. At least, it was the most he had ever said to a woman not from his immediate family.
She did not seem to notice that he had lost his tongue somewhere in the chaos. "My name is Magdeline. I was cursed by an old witch, then I was trapped by stupid faery hunters and sold to that market. Not one had a Soulyte even similar to mine so I was never released. When I saw you... well, that changed everything." She smiled, really, smirked. "I had the chance to be free again to find that old hag but when that bird attacked me... I decided to just stay with you." This time, her smile was sweet. "Despite your naivety and stupidity, you're a pretty nice guy. You've saved me twice, and you're pretty to the eyes, too. Now, if you can only talk."
"You're a... woman...."
And it was then that Cyrus finally fainted.
Magdeline rolled her amethyst eyes at the absurdity of it all.
"Oh, Cyrus. You know," she whispered to the dead-faint guy, "when the Hero kisses the damsel, it's supposed to be happily ever after."
SIX
CYRUS WOKE with his head ringing and his chest burning. His entire body was sore and he could still feel water inside his ear canals. His mind was foggy with pain and the confusion over what had happened the night before, so he did not remember at first why there was a woman nearby, drinking with cupped hands at the river where he had almost died.
His first instinct was to grab his things and run, but when he glanced around he couldn't see his pack or his sword.
"Finally!" he heard the voice of the young woman say, a little husky but pleasant to the ears for reasons he could not understand. His shoulders stiffened and his pulse raced. "I was waiting hours for you to wake up."
The silver-haired young woman shook her hands dry and placed them daintily on her lap, her legs tucked underneath her. He noticed that at least she was wearing clothes now. But when he looked down at himself he saw that she was actually wearing his tunic. The dark blue made her pale skin almost glow. The tunic reached just above her knees and one sleeve sagged off of her left shoulder, since it was too big on her. She had braided a band of her hair at the top of her head but it did little to tame its thick waves.
Cyrus tore his gaze away, blushing furiously at the fact that she had undressed him-no matter that he was still wearing an undershirt. And that she remained beautiful even wearing his clothes.
A woman. His Soulyte mate was a woman, not a faery. She was human but cursed. She's a woman.
He bowed and scrambled to his feet. Before he could dash away, the woman caught him by his collar and forced him to look down at her. She was at least a head shorter than him even when she stood on the tip of her toes. She was very petite, her hair cascading to her hips.
She looked so beautiful that he felt breathless.
But she was glaring up at him as if he was doing something she found absurd and useless. And then she sighed, bowing her head but not loosening her grip.
"I know you want to run and hide," she said, "but I need you to stay calm. If you're a Hero, it's your job to help out damsels, right? Because I could sure use some help right now."
Cyrus swallowed audibly. He had never been this close to anyone of the opposite gender-excluding his mother-and it made him woozy. She smelled incredibly good, but that thought only made his queasiness worse.
"You remember me, right?" she asked. "Mag-de-line. You saved me last night before you fainted, remember?"
You're my faerie, Cyrus thought but couldn't get the words to come out of his mouth. You're my faerie and somehow you have turned into a woman. You're a woman to whom I've told my entire life story because I thought you are a man-faerie. Can I feel possibly more horrible?
"I need you to take me to the closest city. Can you at least do that? You don't even have to talk to me. Actually, I'd prefer if you didn't. I pretty much know everything you have to say anyhow. So if I let you go will you promise not to run?"
Cyrus nodded stiffly even though that last thing she said was supposed to be the most absurd if anyone else would hear it.
Magdeline uncurled her fingers and stepped back. But Cyrus was rooted firmly to the spot. Magdeline regarded him with a bemused expression, and who knew what she was thinking now? He desperately hoped that this was all a dream and when he woke, his faerie would be back to normal and this bossy woman would not exist. He'd be able to get along with his duties as a Hero and not be under the scrutinizing gaze of a female. A beautiful female.
"Good. Now get your sword and let's go."
Especially not a female so... so dominating. But Cyrus glanced around. He hadn't had his sword since before they were attacked. If he was lucky, it would still be on the hill upstream.
He turned slowly and walked up the bank, scanning the river for any signs of his belongings. The hair on the back of his neck prickled when he heard the soft crunch of grass behind him that followed his steps. His senses were entirely focused to the woman behind him and he couldn't seem to shake it. At this rate, a dragon would have landed
in front of him and he might still not notice.
As he tried to distract himself, he caught sight of the pouch that was used to capture his faerie the previous night. He must have thrown it after the faerie escaped, tossing it on the rocky edge of the river in his panic for land.
He leaned over the bank and grabbed it off a stone, careful not to slip in and relive his nightmare from that night.
Upon closer inspection, he could see that it was made of dragon leather, which explained why his faerie hadn't been able to teleport out on its own. Magical creatures always had a way of making things inconvenient.
He stuffed the pouch into his shirt and continued to scan the grass and water for his things. He must have had quite the journey in the rapids. The hill was further than he thought it would be.
When they reached it they could find nothing but the flattened grass he and his pack had made.
The thieves had taken everything: his sword, his belt, his pack, and even his sleeping pallet.
"Let's hurry up and get to the city, then," Magdeline sighed, hugging her waist. "Those men are probably miles away by now. We'll never see them again. There's no use searching anymore."
Cyrus groaned and ran his fingers through his dark hair. He had barely started on his journey and he had already lost the sword that his parents had given him.
Maybe I'm no Hero, he thought in dismay. What he was was a seventeen-year-old boy who was trying to prove that he was done sitting on his mother's lap but still had not managed to overcome his abnormal fear of women.
Well, he's not on his mother's lap now. But with the other mission, he was failing miserably so far.
He silently walked back to the path that led to the nearest city.
Even if he didn't have his map he knew that the next destination would be the City of Herth, one of the larger cities in the heart of Madala.
Herth was surrounded by walls of white stone that could be seen from miles away against the golden waves of grass and oats that grew on the rolling hills. The City specialized in bread made from these nearby grains and fabric from the animals and insects that fed on them.
When the famine struck, everyone knew, especially its residents, that it would strike hard on Herth's economy.
SEVEN
BY DUSK, Cyrus and Magdeline made it to the gates.
They were stopped by a row of guards in thin chainmail, armed with shining spears of sharpened white stone.
"What's your business?" one demanded, prodding Cyrus in the chest with his spear's blunt end.
"I'm in need of supplies," Cyrus muttered. "And a night's rest."
Another soldier chimed in with a growl. "We can't have you refugees taking advantage of our city, you know. We've had at least twenty of your kind through these gates only just today. There's limited food and room available as it is."
"We're not refugees!" Magdeline snapped in the guard's face, pushing past Cyrus. "This man needs supplies to fight in the Forest for you people! He's a courageous Hero who lost his weapon in battle and is highly insulted to be questioned like some lowly refugee or criminal!"
Cyrus was aghast by Magdeline's outburst. But the soldiers looked taken aback as well. Some bowed their heads while the first soldier apologized. The one who had spoken second looked almost terrified.
"We're very sorry, miss. Please, purchase what you need. I'm afraid lodgings are scarce as of late. We've had many refugees speak of a monster in the north and so they've flocked inside our gates."
"A monster?" Cyrus asked, suddenly forgetting his dumb tongue. "So it wasn't because of the famine?"
"That's right, Sir Hero. We don't know much about it but if you were to ask some of the refugees, I'm sure they would be able to explain the situation in full. You can't miss them. They look downright awful. Guess it must have been some monster."
"Uh, thank you."
The guards moved aside for Cyrus and Magdeline to pass.
There were people everywhere within the gates. Most wore bright clothes of blues and greens and oranges, typical clothing for the people of Herth.
Even though the sun was nearly set, the light from fire-lit streetlamps flooded the narrow paths. Every building looked similar; each of the three-story buildings was carved out of the same white stone as the walls. Windows glimmered in blue-tinted glass. Clotheslines were strung between them, clothes and sheets draped over them in every color imaginable.
The two shuffled through the crowd until Magdeline pointed out an inn's vacancy sign.
"Get us two rooms and I'll meet you back here in an hour," she said, pulling out a pouch from the collar of Cyrus's tunic. She dug out some jewels and handed them to him without touching him, and then put the pouch back into the tunic and ran off.
Cyrus stared at the jewels in his palm, dumbfounded. Not only had she taken his tunic while he was sleeping, but his money as well.
And now she's using it as if it were her own?
Were all women like that? No wonder he wanted them as far away from him as he could, he thought.
But he put the small amount of jewels in his sleeve and entered the inn.
"I'm sorry," the innkeeper said after a brief discussion. The old man pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and pointed up his wizened index finger. "We only have one room available. A good lot of refugees have already booked rooms. Paid in advance and everything. They look terrible but they have plenty of money."
"Is there anywhere else with more rooms?" Cyrus asked. "Another inn in the city perhaps?"
"Sorry, boy. Everywhere else is full that I know of."
Cyrus sighed as he put two blue jewels on the counter.
"Then just the room you have available, please."
"Third floor, take a left, then it's the second door on your right," the innkeeper said happily, sliding the jewels towards him and handing over a key. "Supper is served an hour after the sun has set. We have breakfast at sunrise and then you have to be out of here unless you're going to pay for another night."
Cyrus took the key and decided to spend his time productively. He didn't have much in the way of money since Magdeline had run off with his pouch, but he could still find a decent replacement for his sword.
There was no blacksmith in Herth. Every piece of armory the City sold had been imported from the east where metals were more common. There were a few weapon shops still open past sunset so Cyrus ducked into one and browsed the selection.
The walls were lined with various swords, hammers, bows, daggers, arrows, and axes. The prices hung above on wooden slats and he grimaced as he read each one of them
A shopkeeper noticed and smirked, walking over to Cyrus.
"Tight on funds, yeah?" he said, twirling a small blade between his thin fingers. He stopped and tapped the edge against a sign.
"As of late," Cyrus answered bitterly. "I need a short sword and a sheath and I only have twenty jewels."
"I think I have just the thing for you," the shopkeeper said, pulling Cyrus to the side by his shoulder to a rack of swords.
"But the sign says forty," Cyrus pointed out.
"But you're a Hero, yeah?" the other man said, tugging gently at the thin chain around Cyrus's neck which held his Soulyte. "I should be able to give you a discount." He pulled a sword from the rack and held it out to Cyrus. "Great balance, good length, fantastic price."
Cyrus took the hilt and turned away to slice at the air and feel the weight in his hand. It was a bit heavier than his old sword but it swung like a dream. He couldn't help but smile.
This had been his only good luck all day.
"Like I said, I only have twenty."
"No problem, Hero. I can have that wrapped up for you in a nice ox-leather sheath for whatever you got in your pockets."
Cyrus left the shop with a wide smile on his face. The hilt of his new sword was wrapped in soft leather and he kept a tight grip on lest he lose it as well. The sun was completely set by the time he left. His stomach craved attention so he walked
back to the inn with new enthusiasm.
To his discomfort, Magdeline was waiting for him just outside the building. Magdeline, who twirled with a grin when she saw him. She was in a new outfit-a flowing, silken dress of lavender that was cut down the middle, revealing loose silken pants that billowed at her calves and hugged her ankles.
Though the dress hung off of her shoulders, the sleeves were tight and extended to her knuckles in a wispy fabric that hung from her forearm to her knees. The front was secured over her bosom with two impossibly thin chains of silver. Her shoes were no more than petite slippers of pearly white.
She looked like a dream.
"Do you like it?" she asked. "It's the newest thing in Herth." She stopped and tossed him his pouch of jewels. He felt it and exhaled sharply.
There was less than half of what had been in there at the beginning of the day! When he lifted his head to yell at her, he found that he couldn't. He saw how happy she was in her new clothes.
He figured that he owed her something, he told himself grudgingly. She had saved his life in the river, after all. So he just sighed, and pushed the pouch into his sleeve.
"I'm tired," Magdeline said with a small stretch. "Where's my room?"
Cyrus shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. He brought out the room key. "There... uh... was only..." He trailed off in inaudible murmurs.
Magdeline snatched the key from his hand, making him jump. "If there is only one room, that's fine," she said, reading the number carved into the metal. "You can have the floor. I'm going to bed now so just be quiet when you come in. Oh, and by the way, I threw away that old tunic of yours. It was terribly itchy. I'm sure you can find a better one while we're here."
The woman scampered off, leaving Cyrus gaping in the light of the streetlamps.
No wonder his mother had warned him against women-they were insane.
Sometime soon, Cyrus went into the inn and sat down at a long table. He asked for a glass of water and was promptly given a pint of ale. He flinched at the taste but at that point didn't very much care. He downed the contents of the mug and ate supper in the company of the other guests. He didn't speak or listen. Too many questions of his own were buzzing through his head.
What was he going to do now that his companion had turned into a woman? There must be something. He couldn't just leave her.
But what about his Soulyte? There may not be anything else that matched his gem. He certainly could not be a true Hero without a Soulyte companion.
He was tipsy by the time he called it a night and headed upstairs. Magdeline had left the door propped open slightly but he didn't give it much thought.
In the darkness he couldn't see her, much to his relief, but he made himself as comfortable as he could on the wooden floor and fell asleep with thoughts of monsters and faeries.
EIGHT
"IT TOOK the entire place down in an instant with claws the size of long-swords," an old man raved the next morning at breakfast. He was one of the many refugees sitting at the table, shrouded in town clothes of dirty brown. "I'd never seen such a beast. I'd never even heard tale of one!"
"It was probably driven south from the Forest like the birds have been," another man offered, swinging around his mug of ale. Most of the refugees had started their drinking long before Cyrus had even come downstairs.
Cyrus listened intently, trying to take his attention off the fact that Magdeline was less than a foot from him. It wasn't hard, he found, because he was more fascinated about what he was hearing than of her at that moment. The monster in the north had wiped out most of the city's structures where the refugees had fled from. What Hero wouldn't be filled with excitement at the opportunity to slay such a beast and free the people from its wrath?
"My mother is still in that cursed city," one man sighed, his cheek pressed against the table. He, too, had hit the alcohol early. "She refused to leave with me. She said that she'd rather die than leave the only place she's ever known."
"Her and half the elderly there, lad. My father, the butcher, is still holding tight with my mother. The country isn't sending anyone to help, either. They're too damn busy with that business in the Forest," another man said in a bitter voice. "Damn fools! The government and our people alike. There's nothing recognizable in that city anymore. I don't see why the monster keeps coming back."
Cyrus suddenly slammed his hands on the table. "I will go!" he announced, chest puffed and chin high. "I will defeat this monster so you all may go back to your homes and family."
The refugees all stared at him. The whole inn went silent.
Magdeline snorted beside him, which made his cheeks feel like they were on flames. But he was determined. "I promise on my life that you all will have your city back," he told the skeptical looks aimed his way. He started his journey because he wanted to become a Hero, and Hero he would prove to be if he killed this monster.
One of the men grunted and took a swig from his mug. "Good luck," he muttered, wiping foam from his mustache, before continuing his conversation with his companions. Soon enough, others followed his example until Cyrus's short outburst was entirely forgotten.
But he finished off his plate and stood, his head already abuzzed with his plans ahead. He placed his room key on the innkeeper's desk and exited the inn.
Magdeline followed close behind with a scowl. He scarcely noticed her presence now, so intent was he on his current quest. It helped that she was fully dressed and that she was behind him, not infront of him. She had this nasty way of putting her face in front of his face even when he was taller.
"I'm only going with you because after this you'll go to the Forest, right?" she asked once they were on the path to the north. "You'll help me, right?"
"Uh-huh," he answered. He had a plan formulating in his brain and little else mattered.
Then she was on his face, walking backwards and rolling her eyes. "You have a lot to learn about being a Hero," she said haughtily. "A Hero prepares for his quests. He doesn't just rush into danger for the sake of glory. You haven't even bothered gathering the supplies you said you need. A Hero can't survive all the way to the Forest on only a blade. What about food? Or shelter? You have no idea what kind of monster this is. What if it is a dragon? You don't even have a shield."
Lord, she is loud.
"I hope you know that I won't be able to help you this time. You got lucky in the river when I had magic. I'm not a faerie anymore, if you haven't noticed."
Magdeline continued her rant but to Cyrus' surprise, he was actually getting used to it. They walked on, following the road out of the city, her noise not diminishing at all even as she was being ignored.
It wasn't long before they came upon refugees along the road. It was a small caravan of perhaps two or three families-four men, five women, and two children. And it was the same story. Cyrus shied from the women despite his determination and the confidence he had only moments before.
Instead, he went near the men.
"Are you from the city being attacked?" he asked a man about his age.
The man nodded, his eyes hazed with fear. His clothes were tattered but he didn't seem to have any wounds. "Yes. Harben is an hour's walk on swift feet if you follow this path."
"Are you a Hero?" a little girl whispered while clinging to the man's knee. Her clothes were also tattered and there was a burn on the side of her face.
Cyrus swallowed nervously, kicking himself mentally at being on edge in the presence of a girl no older than six. He nodded sharply and grabbed the hilt of his sword.
She smiled sweetly and another man came up and pulled her back into his legs. He was middle-aged with scars that reminded Cyrus of the shopkeeper back in Kinswick.
"Be careful, Hero," he said. "We have little in the way of fighters in Harben but even we should have been able to harm that monster. But nothing we tried worked. It's a beast of magic, three times the size of a horse, with teeth and claws like daggers. It breathes fire but 'tis no dragon. It visits our ci
ty every evening once the sun sets, as it has for the last four nights. Don't bother preparing to return the way you came if you wish to fight this beast."
As he listened, Cyrus's enthusiasm was draining. He looked around at the people in the caravan. Each person had sunken eyes and dirty, torn clothing. They looked broken, their spirits diminished.
Cyrus breathed deeply, remembering how he fared with the thieves that attacked them in the beginning of his journey with Magdeline. After that, how could he fight with a monster who breathe fire and noone could hurt?
But there were still people in the City of Harben. It was a Hero's job to help people, too, and not just save them. He could go there and convince them to leave, and escort them away from the place. He could make sure those poor people would live.
He bowed to the caravan and walked past, ignoring the shaking of their heads at his foolishness.
"Like I said before," Magdeline said once they were out of earshot, "you're a nice guy. But you're also an idiot."
He didn't say anything, since he could already picture her rolling those pretty eyes at him.
But of course, she wasn't finished.
"If you survive this, I suggest you buy a horse. This walking is miserable."
Here we go again, he thought, smiling, as she went about her hundredth and one complaint.
NINE
JUST AS the old man said, the smoking city was visible in just over an hour of walking. There was no wall for protection. The city was bare and pitifully vulnerable against attacks of huge, terribly destructive monsters.
As they got closer, Cyrus could see people digging into the ground to make temporary shelters at the base of destroyed buildings. Cyrus and Magdeline were followed by cold, sorrowful stares as they slowly passed by. Most of the people were elderly, but there were some able-bodied men assisting in making the shelters. The air smelled of fire and it was too dry to properly breathe. Magdeline had her nose crinkled all the time, though at least, she would hide it from the poor citizens. Wood and stone littered the paths through the city.
Cyrus climbed onto a pile of rubble. The sun was still in the center of the sky but was obscured by the smoke. He then turned and slid down the debris towards a man carrying a shovel.
"Excuse me, but I'm here to help. Is there-"
"You wit' the government?"
"No, but I'm a Hero-"
"Just like this damn country not to send out help. What we get are scrawny bastards thinkin' they can do a damn thing with their pig-stickers." The man flicked Cyrus's sheath and huffed. "You wanna help? Sure. Take this shovel and start diggin'."
Magdeline had begun to protest just as Cyrus grabbed the shovel and smiled. The man disappeared. Cyrus went to work.
Magdeline sat on top of a pile of wood and played with her hair, annoyed and bored. At least she was silent this time. Sometimes he would see her glancing the way they'd passed, smiling at a little girl that once passed. Other times, she looked deep in thought. She must really be thinking about something so important that she had forgotten to nag.
Hours passed and some of the city folk came out to share a meal of bread and dried meat with them both. He let her eat more than her share. He was more thirsty, anyway. But then she left a morsel of the dried meat on the plate, telling the bringer she was full.
"I am full," she said when she caught his stare. "Besides, they need the meat more than I do."
By the time the sun was at the horizon, Cyrus and the others had dug a shelter big enough for a dozen people if they stood up straight.
Cyrus could see that everyone was becoming noticeably more anxious as the sun sank lower. Some were starting to situate themselves in the shelters.
"Come along, miss," one elderly woman ushered, pulling Magdeline by the arm towards one of the larger holes. "We can't have a pretty thing like you get hurt with all this monster business. Let the young men take care of it."
Magdeline snatched her arm back, eyes staring down at the makeshift shelter. She declined the old woman. A man came by and pulled the old woman away.
"Come on, Nanna. Let's get you to safety."
The woman looked at Magdeline sadly but allowed herself to be lowered into the gaping hole along with several others.
Again, Magdeline saw his incredulous look and rolled her eyes. "There's absolutely no way I'm standing in a stinking hole with a bunch of other people," she whispered. "I'd rather take my chances with the monster. And out here I can run."
After the elderlies had hidden themselves, thick slabs of wood were put over the shelter and dirt was sprinkled over the top. Some cracks were still visible for air to reach the people below but they would be difficult to spot for a rampaging beast.
Cyrus looked around and saw many other shelters of the same make. The men who were not below ground armed themselves with what they could-shovels, axes, and hoes. They were all exhausted but nonetheless prepared themselves against the approaching night.
"You ready, Hero?" one of them asked Cyrus. His voice was void of any enthusiasm.
Cyrus nodded, though he was unsure if he really was. His sword was at the ready and he was intent. He had even forgotten that Magdeline was hiding under a rubble near him, visible yet as she quickly braided her hair with her fingers.
The light was slowly disappearing and the howls from the creatures of the night stirred the leaves in the trees.
It was an eerie sound and reverberated in Cyrus's ribcage.
The other men's hands tightened around their weapons.
These men are as inexperienced in battle as I am, Cyrus suddenly thought. They had determination in their eyes, but it was clouded in fear.
For a foolish moment after the sun had set, Cyrus thought that perhaps the monster would not come that night.
But he was proven wrong when a high-pitched scream of a child rang throughout the remains of the city.
The other men stood frozen, terrified, as Cyrus sprung into action, sprinting towards the direction of the screaming child with Magdeline fast on his heels, still bickering at him.
"Don't you have any sort of plan?!" she yelled. "Cyrus, stop!"
She almost ran into his back when he stopped dead in his tracks.
In the corner of a ruined building huddled a child, his hands over his head. A fire burned around him, fueled by the most horrifying creature Cyrus had ever seen.
It was huge. It was easily the height of two horses with a tail that whipped out about eighteen feet from its body. It had a muscular body like a wingless dragon, covered in ruby scales from its head down to its legs. It had a face and nose similar to a large cat and giant, pearly fangs. Two large ivory horns protruded from its head above ears like that of a goat. A mane of gold trailed down from its head down its spine.
The same long fur formed a line from its jaw to its stomach and under its tail. It roared and swung its massive claws at the child, causing debris to fall around him.
Magdeline screamed, "Cyrus, do something!"
The monster turned and its golden eyes flashed. It immediately spotted Magdeline and her purple gown, forgetting all about the child.
The beast charged, smoke and flame flooding from the edges of its mouth. Cyrus's heart leapt into his throat and jumped, pushing Magdeline aside so that she fell into a heap of rubble and out of the beast's line of sight.
Then he braced his sword. He knew he couldn't defeat a creature like this. Oh no. Not in the manner he took down the falcon that chased for his Soulyte. But he could fight and he could die a Hero. His mother would hear that he did his mission.
He fought a monster. How was that? She would be proud.
The creature roared and dove toward the Hero. He swung his sword and almost laughed hysterically when his blade made contact.
But his delight was curbed when the sword shattered upon making impact, leaving him holding only his grip.
That's what I deserve for buying a twenty-jewel sword, he thought.
But then the beast snarled and fe
ll on its side and thick, black blood was flooding the path.
In a matter of moments, right before their shocked eyes, the monster melted to the ground in a disgusting, dark puddle.
Magdeline crawled out from the rubble and stared in shock at what was left of the fallen beast.
Standing on her feet, she walked on wobbly knees to the remains. "You... you actually did it," she breathed.
She glanced up at Cyrus. His chest was heaving in exertion and he had the slightest hint of a smile on his face as he, too, looked at the puddle.
"You did it!" she repeated in a squeal, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him.
Cyrus didn't know why he did what he did. He was just kissing her, too, holding her, too, in a tight embrace. Her lips were soft. Her body also so soft. And she smelled like roses.
But he suddenly jolted back, his eyes getting caught in a sudden burst of light that blinded him so he fell backwards.
The sound of chirping birds resounded and he blinked away the black dots clouding his vision in time to see his faerie flitting to and fro in a bout of rage.
The kiss! The kiss transformed her back into her Soulyte mate!
Magdeline screamed in her faerie language and flew over to Cyrus, hitting him on the head with tiny fists. A faerie so enraged that it was shouting bloody murder at him. Not that he could understand. But noone had to talk his language to know that Magdeline was mad as hell.
Cyrus was suddenly laughing. Magdeline put her tiny fists on her tiny waist and huffed. He then gently cupped her in his palms and brought her down to face level.
She glared at him, her Soulyte color flashing brightly on her luminescent skin. Cyrus didn't feel the usual attack of the jitters as he watched her pout and glare and roll her eyes. Or seem to. With those pupils, he couldn't really tell.
Well, that was better.
"I missed you as a faerie," he said. "I guess that curse wasn't really broken after all."
He glanced around. The boy who was in the ruins had long since ran away and there was no noise but the crackling of flames. He saw his broken sword by his side, shards of metal scattered several feet in several directions.
Cyrus lowered his voice. "I don't like this. No one's coming out."
Then a low growl shook the ground.
Cyrus jumped to his feet and stared as the puddle of blood rippled and raised into the air.
It formed the shape of the monster and after only a few moments morphed into the beast, complete with scales and fur. It no longer sported the wound it had earlier sustained from Cyrus's now shattered sword.
Magdeline flew into the air and buzzed behind Cyrus's head. But it wasn't an angry chattering now. She was clearly in a panic.
As he was. So this was what they meant when they said the monster couldn't be hurt.
He no longer had any weapon and it was apparent his sword wouldn't do much good either way.
What was he to do?
TEN
WHAT HE DID was the most sensible thing he could have done that night.
He ran.
A roar from behind him made the ground shudder and the nearby ruins of a building collapsed further to the ground. Cyrus reached behind him and grabbed Magdeline, holding her carefully to his chest. He sprinted, trying to avoid the center of town where he knew the rest of the city folk were.
But every stride the monster made was ten times the length of Cyrus's. They would soon be overcome. He ducked into a dilapidated structure and tensed his body, trying to come up with a plan. He was given only a second or two before the monster found him and reared its head to cover him in fire.
Suddenly, he was no longer in the building but several feet behind the monster, watching as it doused the spot in white-hot flame where he had been only moments before.
Magdeline wriggled from his hands and breathed heavily as he laughed. "Thank you!" Cyrus breathed. "I can see why Heroes favor faeries as companions." Not to mention he could talk to her, actually finishing his statements, without one stupid stutter.
She made some clicking sounds and he really didn't know what it meant, nor had he time to find out. A large crack exploded in Cyrus's ears and he saw a flaming timber from the building was knocked down, falling roughly on the monster's back.
As they watched, the beast screamed and tore the crumbling wood off. The scales beneath the fire bubbled sickeningly and its golden mane smoked into a dead black.
Magdeline pointed and flew in circles in front of Cyrus's eyes. This time, he understood the signs she was making with her hands.
"So it can be hurt by its own fire," Cyrus whispered, clambering to his feet to duck behind some rubble before the monster could turn around and see him. He rested his back against the pile and tried to think. He grabbed Magdeline so that her light didn't draw attention.
"How can it be hurt by its own fire?"
Magdeline had no answer, just a shrug of her tiny, tiny shoulders.
He thought for several seconds. The fact of what could hurt the monster didn't matter as much as that it could be hurt in the first place.
"We just need to find a way to make it fall into its own destruction. If we can get it near the fire, we should be able to do something."
Magdeline squirmed free again and fluttered to a small collection of flames a few feet from the rubble. Her light expanded and she dove into the fire. Cyrus reached out to stop her but she came out unharmed, surrounded by a ball of white flame.
"You can carry fire?" Cyrus asked in wonder.
She nodded tiny nods with her tiny head.
He beamed. "That thing has very flammable fur on top of it and underneath. If you can ignite them, I'm sure that would at least get us somewhere. I'll draw it over here but you have to be ready, okay?"
The light pulsed and Cyrus took it as a yes.
He jumped out from the pile and waved his arms with a yell. "Hey... dragon-cat! Over here, you ugly thing!"
The monster heard his yell over the crackling of the fire, looked up from the flames, and growled. Its enormous tail swung against the side of a burning building, reducing it to a pile of useless rock before bounding towards him in an incredible speed that had him frozen for a second, one brief terrorized moment, when Cyrus wondered if he should have thought his plan through.
But it was too late for second-guessing. He sprinted off in the opposite direction in the desperate hope that Magdeline would be able to fulfill her part.
And then, a gut-wrenching roar confirmed that she had.
He turned his head, saw flames engulf the beast. A crash. Cyrus stopped to look back and saw the monster toppling to the ground.
Enclosed within her ball of flames, Magdeline whirred around it, brushing against it, catching every part of the monster she could reach on fire. Its red skin bubbled and its fur was singed off. All the while as he watched, his heart was in his throat. She was too close to the monster, too close!
Finally, Magdeline flew back to Cyrus, casting off the fire from her body. He took her in his palms as gently and as fast, hugging the little thing to his chest. She scrambled to find a hole to look out, and they both stared at the sizzling creature, watching, waiting, horrified.
Cyrus cringed at the noise it made. It screamed while its flesh popped. It must be hurting like hell. But he thought of the many victims that perished on the same fire and he thought the monster deserved this kind of death.
Within minutes, nothing was left but a burnt skeleton and foul-smelling ash.
And this time he knew it was dead.
Behind them, people were climbing out of holes, chattering, laughing, whispering... making noises. But not afraid anymore.
He let out a sharp laugh, too. He couldn't believe it. He and his faerie had slain a monster. They had defeated a scourge of evil that no one else could.
They had saved a city!
I'm a Hero!
He plucked Magdeline gently from his shoulder and hugged her to his chest. "Oh, thank you," he whispered.
"Thank you."
With a chirp, Magdeline pushed away and flew up to his lips. He knew by now why this was so. And as the still-unfamiliar warmth came over him and a bright light dotted his vision, he felt his heart start its now familiar race.
"I definitely need to have a word with that witch," Magdeline ominously as soon as she turned. "Soon."
She stood before him naked but for the long and thick hair covering her where she should be covered, brushing ashes from her hair. Then she smiled at him as his face was enveloped in red.
She leaned in closer with a smirk, her face again infront of his face as he froze.
"You really do deserve a real kiss for that stupidity, Hero. I have some thanks for you as well."
That was when the men of the city flooded onto the path from behind the ruins of buildings, hollering and shaking their fists in applause. They had apparently been watching at a distance and only felt ready to emerge when the coast was clear.
He suddenly found himself on a shirt, his tunic now covering Magdeline's nakedness. Magic. Magdeline had pulled back and crossed her arms in a huff as the men gawked at the new Hero.
"You did it, Sir Hero!" one of them called.
Other men joined the cheer, shouting their praises. Some of the men paused at the sight of Magdeline, but most ran to Cyrus to offer him robust thanks. They slapped him on the shoulders and laughed in celebration as he slowly slid to the ground.
"Sir Hero?" a man questioned when Cyrus did not move.
The group looked at Cyrus's face. His eyes were rolled into the back of his head and his face was still a vivid crimson.
"He's fainted," they laughed. "That monster must have been some task!"
Magdeline sighed, knowing the real reason why.
My Hero is a complete moron, she thought,A cute moron, but completely hopeless. Is he?shaking her head as she thought of a way to get him over this particular problem.
They certainly had a long way to go before he could save her. Noone had needed a true Hero as Magdeline.
But the unlikely hero Cyrus would find that soon enough.