Nano 9

It was evening, but there was no town or village in sight. Art sat in the shade of a large rock and chewed on his nails disconsolately. Mr. Sept was somewhere among the bushes, gathering twigs and stones for a fire.

It wasn’t that he was afraid, Art said in his head, but it was unnerving to be out with a near stranger in these strange parts. They had met only three people in the course of their day’s journey, silent men out on unspeakable errands to who knew where. And then there was Mr. Sept. The man hardly talked unless he absolutely had to, and even then, his words were so few that he might have kept silent the whole time for all Art cared.

‘We should build the fire to last the night,’ the man said, coming out of the greenery behind the rock suddenly. ‘It’s not safe out here.’

‘You mean wild animals?’ Art said, pulling his pack towards him.

‘No, I mean men,’ Mr. Sept said. ‘There are always men out at night, men who may not be as harmless as we think.’

‘You mean robbers and thieves,’ Art said, his heart going up to his throat. He hadn’t expected this. Laurel would have told him, but she had been crying too much to speak to him.

‘Those are the nicer ones,’ Mr. Sept added. ‘We may meet those who would not hesitate to do anything.’

It was just after sunset when Mr. Sept suggested that they turn in for the night. Art agreed, if only to shut his eyes against the unseen horrors of the night. The fire was kept low, with Mr. Sept feeding the occasional twig and branch into it from time to time. The man offered to keep the first watch, to which Art could only agree reluctantly. Horrors and things that go bump in the night were more likely to be seen in the later parts of the night, after all.

And then there were the dreams.

‘Art, is it?’

It was the lady again, the lady he had met in the first night in the Lefroys’ home. Art sat up and stared at her. She was leaning against the rock, watching him in the soft light radiating from her. In the darkness out here, the light was clearer than ever.

‘Yes,’ he said cautiously. ‘What do you want?’

‘I promised you that someone would come, didn’t I?’

‘Yes you did. Is his name Mr. Sept?’

The lady waved away his words dismissively. ‘I do not care for names. All I know is that someone would be taking you away from the place where you were found. So he has, I see.’

‘But where is he taking me really?’ Art said. ‘I still don’t know his plans. He’s in the book-trading business, but that doesn’t sound much like an adventure – ‘

‘Look, kiddo, if adventures meant that you had to walk around in some stupid mail, or find a unicorn or something, you’re wrong,’ the lady cut in impatiently. ‘Enemies come in mysterious guises, as you undoubtedly do not know. Adventures begin in the most boring ways possible. I have seen many, and I know how they usually begin, how they would progress. But the one thing I do not know is how they will end.’

‘Right. Okay. So I’m on an adventure. But what am I supposed to do?’

‘I was going to tell you that,’ the lady said. She came away from the rock and sat down beside him. ‘You have to find someone now. It’s your turn. Someone needs your help and you – like Mr. Sept before you – will have to lead this person out of the place he or she has stayed for years.’

‘What am I going to say to convince this person then, to make him leave?’ Art said incredulously. ‘You can’t just say to someone, “Hey buddy, I’m going to give you the help you need, let’s go!” can I?’

‘No you cannot,’ the lady said with amusement. ‘Of course you can’t. Someone else will do the convincing. You will just have to look for this person and tell him – or her – what you intend to do, and where you are going. You will have to work with Mr. Sept on these matters.’

‘That doesn’t sound so bad.’

‘I see.’ The lady nodded. ‘You sound confident about this. I wish you all the best. Good luck.’

‘Er, thank you. And good night.’ Art waited for the lady to leave.

The lady leaned forward, pale silver light spilling over his face, and breathed on his eyelids. He fell asleep.

Someone was shaking his shoulder. Art opened his eyes blearily. The dark face of Mr. Sept loomed over him.

‘It’s your watch now, lad,’ the man said. He sounded tired and sleepy. ‘Wake me up if there’s anything.’

Art sat up slowly and washed his face with the water from his bottle. Mr. Sept curled up to sleep beside the fire, pulling several blankets over his thin frame up to his chin. Art noticed that he had not taken off his coat, even to sleep.

The fire fell lower as the night progressed. Art dropped sticks into the orange flames half-heartedly, waiting for his watch to end and he could go back to sleep again. He thought over the dream he had just before he had been shaken awake. So he had forgotten the first dream, which was why he didn’t know that someone – Mr. Sept, that is – was going to take him away. Laurel had been quicker than he had on that. He wasn’t going to forget this most recent dream any time now. He had to find out where they were going from Mr. Sept and get him to help out somehow, to find this person. And he still hadn’t found out who was the mysterious lady. She didn’t quite strike him as a proper goddess of mercy. There had to be –

There was a loud crack. Then a muffled swear was cut off hurriedly.

‘Hello?’ Art lit a branch from the fire and held it up. He couldn’t see anyone within the circle of light from the fire. Someone was hiding in the undergrowth then, watching him and Mr. Sept. He felt jolts of nervous electricity running from his scalp and down his back. Okay. Stay calm. Don’t panic. Don’t scream –

‘Oh bugger.’ Someone rolled out from the bushes, but he – or it – was still out of range from the flickering light. Art held out his makeshift torch in that direction and squinted into the shadows. A small form could be discerned, as though a very short man was curled up into a ball and lying on his side to stay hidden.

‘I can see you, you know,’ Art said, keeping his voice steady. ‘Come into the light, where I can see you better.’

The ball stiffened and went perfectly still. Art crept across to it as quietly as he could, the torch gripped tightly in his cold fingers. He held his breath and picked up a short stick with a convenient sharp end. The ball remained still, as though the person – or something – thought he could fool Art that he – or it – was nothing more than a rock or very large stone. Art darted forward with the stick and administered a sharp jab in the ball’s side. There was a squeal.

‘Show yourself!’ he yelled – more out of nervousness than to show who was in charge here.

The ball uncurled itself into a short slender figure. Art held the torch over it. And then he stared.

‘A fairy?’ he gasped.

‘No, mister, I’m a tiny little being with stupid flimsy wings and a stupid flimsy dress,’ the fairy said sarcastically. ‘I’m not a fairy. Not really.’

‘You’re a girl!’

‘So what? You’re a sexist, are you?’ The fairy’s chin tilted upwards with admirable defiance. ‘Huh! I’d like to see you being hunted down like some stupid bird going Tweet!’

‘Wait. Wait. People hunt you down?’ Art doused the torch with the last of the water out of his bottle. He tossed the blackened branch into the bushes and turned back to stare at the fairy. ‘Wait, you even exist?’

‘Of course I do, you idiot!’ The fairy marched over the grass to his feet and kicked him on the ankle, hard. Art ignored the pain. The pain was there, he could feel it, therefore it followed that the fairy did exist. His brain, however, took some time to reconcile itself to the fairy’s existence. It wasn’t the part that had been kicked, after all.

‘But fairies don’t exist!’

‘Not in the way you think.’ The fairy sighed and went over to sit on the stones surrounding the fire. ‘Look, I am a fairy, but definitely not how you think I am. I don’t have wings, and I don’t usually walk around in a dress like this. I’m only wearing these flimsy things because I was on my way to my sister’s party. And then something hit me and I was unconscious till evening.’

‘So why don’t you go to your sister’s place then?’ Art bent down to have a closer look at the strange fragile creature in front of the fire.

‘I can’t, all right. I don’t have good navigational skills, and it’s dangerous in there.’ The fairy waved vaguely behind her. ‘So I thought I’d wait till morning, but then something tried to eat me. Thought I could spend the night near the fire, but there you were waiting for me.’ The fairy scratched her chin reflectively. ‘You’re not going to burn me alive or anything, are you?’

‘Er, no. What would be the point?’

‘Exactly, that’s the question I’m always asking myself. But I’ve always heard that people are only interested in hunting fairies or roasting them alive. I still don’t get it. I mean – we’re not that pretty anyway – the glams can do so much better – and we’re so small, that there’s no point in eating us.’

Art poured a few drops of water out of the bottle into the cap. The fairy accepted it gratefully.

‘I don’t have anything against girls,’ Art said apologetically. ‘I have a girl best friend anyway. I was just shocked when you turned up.’

‘You’re not from these parts, are you?’ The fairy looked at him shrewdly over the bottle cap. ‘Most people around here do some serious trading in captive fairies. They don’t just believe in us, they hunt us.’

‘I’ve never heard of it anyway.’ Art held out a slice of bread to the fairy. She stared at it.

‘What’s this?’

‘Bread. It’s made of flour and…things. Lots of flour anyway.’

‘Good eating?’ she said doubtfully, tearing off a small corner. She chewed on it slowly, as though afraid that it was going to taste horrible. ‘Not bad,’ she conceded.

‘It’s good and nourishing,’ Art said. He grimaced slightly. ‘I sound like someone’s mother.’

‘I don’t mind.’ The fairy giggled. ‘Look, I really am grateful that you’re not trying to harm me or anything. So if there’s anything you want me to do for you, just tell me.’

‘Er, you don’t have to.’ Art grinned sheepishly and added, ‘I don’t ask for anything in return.’

‘I want to,’ the fairy insisted. ‘It’s fairy code of honor. Do unto others as they have done unto you. In the matter of good deeds, we have to offer help in return. It’s like a debt or something. Very sensible. But you can always postpone your wish for help until any time convenient to you.’

‘Thank you.’ Art noticed the sensible brown boots on the fairy’s feet but wisely chose not to comment on them. Instead he asked, carefully, ‘So what do fairies really look like, then? I’ve always thought they had wings and wore…pretty dresses and flowers.’

The fairy gave him another odd look. ‘Are you from another world or what?’

‘I’ve sometimes wondered,’ Art confessed. ‘I don’t know a lot of things here.’

‘I was serious when I said that.’ The fairy narrowed her eyes and ran her gaze from his head to chin. ‘There’ve been stories about people wandering in from different worlds. We’ve been seeing more of them lately. Noticed anything odd these days?’

‘Er, no. But I think I should tell you – I’m not from here. I was found by a family and they took me in. I still don’t know a lot of things, honestly.’

‘I see.’ The fairy tore off pieces of bread and chewed on them thoughtfully. ‘We’ve been seeing unusual fluctuations in energy these past few weeks.’

‘Thaumic energy?’ Art ventured, keeping his excitement at bay. ‘Is it unexplained energy?’

‘I don’t know about thaumic anything. But we can detect changes in the air and everything. There’s been a lot of…disturbances. And they don’t only happen where you can see them.’ The fairy looked severe as she finished the last of the bread and glared fiercely at Art. ‘Do you have any ideas on this?’

‘I told you, I don’t know much,’ Art protested. ‘I would tell you more if I could, but – ‘

The fairy gasped and curled up into a ball abruptly. Art turned to look over his shoulder. Mr. Sept was awake, reclining on his elbows and watching the boy with a curious expression on his lined face. Art heard the fairy roll over to the bushes.

‘Yes sir?’ Art said nervously.

‘That was a fairy, wasn’t it?’ Mr. Sept said.

‘Erm, I’m not too sure what it was.’

‘Tell me the truth, boy,’ Mr. Sept said sharply. ‘Did you think that was a fairy?’

‘No sir.’

‘Then it never existed. Do you get my meaning? You never saw it, and you never spoke to it. Whatever happened tonight did not involve a fairy. Because they don’t exist, am I right?’

‘Yes sir.’ Art crossed his fingers behind his back. ‘Fairies don’t exist, sir.’

‘And stop calling me “sir”. I will not tolerate any attempts to suck up to me.’ Mr. Sept smiled wryly. ‘I’ve told you that.’

‘Yes, Mr. Sept.’

‘Now get back to sleep. I’ll take over the watch.’

Art crawled under his blankets and turned his back on the fire and Mr. Sept.

Something crept into the folds of the blanket and into his cupped hand. There was the faintest rustle of wings and the smallest hint of a dress before it was whipped out of sight. Art waited until Mr. Sept was busy with the kettle before peeking at his hand. The fairy was curled into a tight comfortable ball with her wings as a pillow, snoring lightly in her sleep.