The War of Odds (4 page)

Eyeing the tree cautiously, Hiss started to sidle backward out of harm’s way, when the juniper started laughing.
 
“Ha!
 
I’ve caught your tail a time or two, haven’t I, cat?”

Sighing, Hiss sat down and started washing again with remembered humiliation.
 
“Yes, tree, you have.
 
I forgot to ask your permission for the nip when I was just a kit.
 
You skinned the very fur off my hide!
 
Will you forgive my ignorance now?”

The old juniper quivered for a moment and then said, “Of course, Hissaphat.
 
Please partake of the medicine.
 
You deserve it for taking such good care of young Pollo, here.”
 
Large brown eyes seemed to stir within the tree’s gnarly hide and it added, “This sprite must stay safe to aid the witch on her way…”

“What?”
 
Pollo squeaked, but the tree was just a tree again now and slept peacefully amongst the holly and the hawthorns.

Hiss lapped the tea up with relish, while Pollo took a long draught of water from a nearby stream.
 
He noticed that many of the villagers were already removing dead branches and rubble from their yards and the village square.

One young sprite called out, “Hey Pollo, you going to help, or what?”

Pollo glared.
 
It was his brother, Peat, who never failed to make Pollo squirm with embarrassment whenever an opportunity arose.
 
Drawing himself up to his full eight inches in height, Pollo replied, “Yes, Peat.
 
I’ll be out to help in a moment.
 
I just need to talk to Pa first.”

Having no real response to this, Peat shrugged and brandished his tiny ax in Pollo’s general direction.
 
Hiss wiped his whiskers clean and said, “Let’s go, sprite and get this job over with.
 
I feel a powerful need for a nap.”

Glancing at Hissaphat, Pollo remembered the cat’s great age.
 
The mad race through the woods had cost Hiss dearly… his fur was matted and his normally brilliant yellow eyes were dull with fatigue.

“Yes, Hiss.
 
Let’s go” Pollo agreed.
 
They walked to the outskirts of the village until they came to Pollo’s home, the lodge of Sylvan Goodwing, or Sylvan the Good.
 
Pollo’s pa was the king of this particular sect of sprites and ruled with gentle guidance and august wisdom.
 
Sylvan’s responsibilities were great, as his territory over-lapped and sometimes even mingled with the non-magical realm of men.

Pollo gulped and stepped inside the lodge.
 
Although his home seemed huge to Pollo, Hissaphat was forced to sit outside the door, with one eye peering in.

“Good afternoon, Hiss,” Pollo’s ma, Clarice, called out from the far wall of the kitchen by the stone fireplace.
 
Her black hair was frizzy with heat and the enticing aroma of freshly baked bread made Pollo’s belly growl with hunger.

“Pollo, where have you been?” Clarice put floury hands on her hips and scowled.
 
“Don’t you think you should be helping your brothers with clean up?”

Blushing, Pollo answered, “Ma, I will.
 
I promise, but right now Hiss and I need to talk with Pa!”

Studying her youngest child, Clarice saw that, indeed, the boy had important words to impart.
 
Just the fact that he wasn’t begging her for a slice of bread with fresh honey spoke to the importance of his and the cat’s mission.
 
Hissaphat’s large, golden eye blinked in solemn seriousness.

“Sylvie!
 
Get down here… now!”
 
Sylvan might be king to over a thousand sprites but that did not afford him any additional respect, at least not in Clarice’s kitchen.
 
She had known Sylvan since he was just a tad and used to pull her braids by the waterfall.

Pollo’s ma sliced one of the warm loaves and spread the bread with nutty butter and honey.
 
She instructed Pollo to bring Hiss a bucket of milk and they ate lunch while waiting for Sylvan to appear.

Sylvan Goodwing’s home was constructed around the trunk of a cedar tree.
 
It spiraled up the tree in many layers of rooms, and the king kept his office and library at the top level, far from the hubbub of his large family and the animals under his care.

He heard his wife bellow from the kitchen, and sighed.
 
I know that the village is a mess
,
Clary
, he grumbled under his breath
.
 
What do you think I am doing, but organizing the clean-up efforts?
 
He added with some guilt, as she had actually caught him napping.
 
He stood up, smoothing his riotous red whiskers into order.

Shaking his head, Sylvan wondered at his own frailty.
 
He knew that the dark magic he could feel in everything, and sense almost everywhere was sapping his strength.
 
The fact that he had just received the worst news he could ever imagine did not help matters any.

Glancing at the missive on his desk, Sylvan sighed.
 
The fair had been cancelled, apparently, and all magical beings were advised to stay home and to put wards around their homes, villages and territories as quickly as possible.

A tear fell from one of the king’s green eyes.
 
Timeron, fairy king of the underworld, had just declared war on man.

Chapter 4

School was cancelled for the rest of the day. Sara, Nate and Chloe sat on a stone bench in the common area in front of the high school as busses rolled up and kids piled into their parents cars, or started their own automobiles to head home.

There were two injuries on campus, (a broken collarbone and a gash on the cheek which needed stitches), that required hospitalization for the unfortunate teenagers. The rest of the student body, however, was almost giddy with relief and excitement at being dismissed from school for at least a day, maybe more, pending investigation of the damage done to the building’s infrastructure.

Chloe was talking to her mother on her cell phone. Mary Tan was a nurse/practitioner at the local medical clinic. Many patients were lined up in the waiting room… older folks with bumps and bruises, one elderly woman with a broken hip, and a clerk at the grocery store who had been hit on the head by a falling piece of antique tack, used as a display piece in the meat department.

Sara heard Chloe say, “No Mom, we’re alright. A couple of kids were taken to the hospital, but Nate and I…” she glanced at Sara, “and a new girl are just sitting out front of the school watching everyone go home.” She listened for a moment, and then asked, “Mom, would it be okay if I brought my friends by the house? Sara’s dad,” she paused again, and added, “Sara’s the new girl I told you about.” She continued, “As I was saying, Sara’s dad called and said he’s stuck at the mine… there was a cave-in and some drillers were hurt.”

Chloe rolled her eyes in silence for a moment, and then answered, “Okay, thanks Mom… we will, I promise… bye!” Hanging up, she laughed. “My mom is freaking out, but she said it’s okay if you guys want to come to the house for lunch.”

Nate, who was still staring at the almost invisible cut on his arm, nodded and said, “Cool”.

Sara was so grateful for the invitation she felt like weeping. She still felt weak and shaky since doing… whatever it was she did to Nate’s arm. In addition, she was tense over having to start over again in a new school, and at what she thought she saw on her way here this morning. Now, the shock of the earthquake, the injuries sustained by some of the students, and everything else seemed to have caught up with her. Especially since her dad had said that if she was okay, he needed to stay late at work to assess damage to the mine’s tunnel walls.

She was exhausted, fearful and afraid of being alone. Chloe, however, seemed indefatigable. “Let’s go then, come on,” she ordered, picking up a backpack that was half as big as she was.

They turned left on the street and started walking into the town proper. The little town of Ashbrook contained large Cape Cod and Victorian mansions, sitting side by side with tiny cottages, and one-room, modernized shacks. First established in the late 1800’s, the town sprang up overnight when gold was found two miles away. Mine owners and wealthy land barons built houses, a general store, two churches, five bars, and a railway station while the miners themselves either made it big, or went broke trying.

There was no real planning as the town arose, almost overnight. That is why the nicest houses in town rubbed shoulders with some of the worst. Sara saw evidence of this as they walked up the street toward both Chloe and Nate’s homes. Chloe and her mom lived in a handsome gray Cape Cod, with red shutters and a beautifully landscaped front yard.

Nate’s home was situated across the street and up three houses on the corner. It was a tiny ramshackle place, with peeling yellow paint and a sagging front porch. It was tidy enough, Sara thought, but looked forlorn and out of place sitting next to its grander neighbors. Nate looked ashamed when he pointed his house out to her, but grinned as he saw a dog come tearing out from under the porch.

“Hold on a sec,” he said and ran up the street to let the dog out of the yard. It looked like a German shepherd. Barking in joy, it spun circles while Nate lifted the latch on the front gate. Then the boy and his pet danced together on the sidewalk for a moment before walking back down the street to where Sara and Chloe waited.

“Don’t say anything,” Chloe murmured, “but Nate has it kind of rough. I’ll tell you about it later, okay?” Sara nodded, smiling, as the shepherd walked up to her, sat down and lifted one paw to shake. Laughing, she shook the dog’s paw and asked, “Hi buddy, what’s your name?”

“This is Mike, the dog,” Nate answered with a grin. “He’s a good guy.”

Chloe said, “Come on, let’s go in and get a bite to eat, okay? I’m starving.”

Sara followed her new friends up the driveway and onto the front porch. She saw a meticulously maintained yard containing a beautiful, tiny bonsai garden… Buddha and all.

They stepped in the front door, dropped their bags on a sofa and then followed Chloe into the kitchen. The young people talked while she fixed grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. For the first time in years, Sara began to relax. She felt like she was at home. After eating lunch, cleaning up the kitchen and going up to Chloe’s bedroom to hang out and watch TV, she fell asleep, secure in the knowledge that she was amongst friends.

*

In a different realm, Sylvan reached the ground level of his home and saw the large silhouette of Hissaphat the cat, darkening the doorway. Doffing his tall, pointed cap, Sylvan bowed slightly and said, “Greetings, old friend. What brings you by today?”

Hiss blinked and said, “Good afternoon, your highness. I am here to stand as witness for your son, Pollo.”

“Pollo!” the old king sputtered, “What has that boy done now?”

Hiss grinned and said, “Be at peace, Sir. Pollo has done nothing wrong except, perhaps be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Well, whole realms have fallen by that action, alone!” Sylvan retorted. “Stay there, Hiss, if you please. I’ll go and fetch the boy so that we can speak outside.” The king strode into the kitchen and a few moments later, he and his youngest son emerged into the great room. Hiss heard the king say, “… and if I don’t like what I hear about your latest adventure, I’ll take a strap to your backside, I vow it!”

Pollo’s face was red and he was frantically trying to wipe honey off his cheeks and nose as he scurried after his father, the king. Hiss couldn’t help but sympathize with the youngster. Pollo had been in trouble a number of times, after all. His mishaps were usually a lapse in judgment, however, or a failed attempt at being a hero… never, as far as Hiss could tell, had the sprite done anything mean, or spiteful (unlike his brother, Peat).

Once, he had inadvertently flown headfirst into a beehive while trying to fly, like his two older brothers. Everybody knew, including Pollo, that sprites wings did not develop until they were well past adolescence. Still, tired of being outdone by his brothers, the sprite launched his body off a tree limb and took the whole hive down with him as he fell to the ground. Several bees were injured in the accident and the village went without honey for the season as punishment for the infraction.