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World War Sunflower
They say there's a line between darkness and light. There isn't. Between those two extremes lie the beguiling slopes of grey. And when the darkness changes so slowly that you can't even see it, sooner or later even the purest night is just another inch to the left.
We metal fay learned this from Guru Yummy. Most of us didn't listen. That was one reason why our war against the sky fay lasted so long.
Malory Manor. South side of the country garden. The edge of the lawn. Over the ornamental reservoir.
The fleet of ships was huge. Each one was the size of a car. Their magic cannons were sensitive; no other aircraft could approach without being blasted and sunk. That's why I went in, a lone fairy operative, too small to be seen by the cannoneers.
My mission was simple: blow the mothership. Each ship contained so much magic that, this close together, the first explosion would trigger others in a chain reaction. Fireworks over the waters. The trick was to get the bombs in the right places.
If they got to the other side of the reservoir—to our territory—they'd unleash their payload. Dozens of my friends would perish in a blink. You don't need other reasons to continue a war. You just need to make sure one battle after another goes your way, to pay them back for winning against you.
Oh yes, we knew why the war was continuing.
I got in without issue. One bomb beneath the cannon fuel source. One next to the engine room's main outlet. One near the payload bay—that was when they spotted me. The engineer got away before I could hide. I had no weapons. Our magic lasers on this ship would have reacted with the ambient magic. That chain reaction, if I fired, would include my sorry hide.
I hurried. Once their infantry found me, I'd be dead in seconds. So I planted the last bomb on the hull and got ready to leave.
Four gunners. I didn't even see the first one. That bastard shot me in the thigh; all I remembered was a flash of lead and then my leg was suddenly on fire with pain. I fell over, rolled off the walkway, took another shot in the kidneys, and rolled right off.
Onto the glass.
It was a viewing dome, underside of the ship. Below me, the other ships surged into position, completely unaware of what was going on up here. Four shots ricocheted off the thick glass. I heard cracking.
As their lasers aimed at me for the final volley, briefly blinding me with their patient red lights as they looked for my vitals, I worked on automatic. The pain was so bad I just ran through the protocol like a robot.
I took out the detonator. Flicked the safety pin out.
There were two buttons on the thing. One was the main detonator: no surprises there. The other was my salvation.
Before I went on this mission, I met my master, Guru Yummy of the earth fay. Unlike the metal fay, he did not fight in the war, too old and blind to even land a punch for us. But he was a tutor. In his old age, he was also going soft.
Before I went on this mission, he came to me, he said, "I have been meditating. The purpose of war is not to shed blood. It is to disarm your enemy. Do not kill if you can ever incapacitate. Kill if you have no choice. But make sure you have no choice. Promise an old fairy that?"
The other button was a stun switch. If I pressed it, the ships would still explode, but a protective spell would simultaneously be unleashed, preventing any caught in the blast radius from instantly dying. At this height over water, there were risks—the engineer fairies had only put it in out of respect for Guru Yummy’s angry wishes—but "might die upon splashing" is better than "will die upon exploding".
I ignored it.
By now, I was in too much pain to care. I had lost too many friends.
I pressed the first button.
The blast front vibrated the ship, shattering the glass. Instantly, I flipped round, through breaking shards—I didn't notice the cuts until later—diving through the sky while the world turned red behind me. Other ships to the side caught fire and bloomed into vicious flames. Shrapnel scythed around me. Then the ships below me were hit. By then, I had fallen past, and so barely heard the beginnings of the explosion when the water engulfed me and muffled the worst of it. Shielded me. Deafened me. Cooled my wounds.
Not one ship made it to shore. Not one survivor was found.
That was when I earned the name "Skybreaker".
Guru Yummy summoned me later that day, stony-faced and glaring behind his dark glasses. Although blind, he doubtless heard me rustling through the grass blades as I approached.
"So…" he said coldly. "Skybreaker, is it now? I preferred Captain Feathersnuggle."
I winced. To a fay, names like "Feathersnuggle" are okay until we discover ones like "Skybreaker".
"Bygone times, Master," I said, bowing low enough to be horizontal from waist to skull.
"And slowly forgotten. Fairies are supposed to be peaceful. Metal fay are supposed to be earth fay: soft and life-giving, not hard and dead inside."
"The time of rainbows and sunshine is over, Master. With all due respect," I added hastily.
"Follow me, Feathersnuggle."
Wincing at the old name, I trudged through the grass after him. Somehow, he wasn't forcing his way through the blades like I was, instead sidling and flowing as easily as wind.
Despite that day's drama, the humans in the garden completely failed to notice us as we slid by. You see, there are several planes of reality, of which the mortal plane is but one. Most of our battles occurred in what we used to call the "Avalon plane". Now we called it the "warzone".
But no matter what plane we shift into, the Elder Tree is the same in all.
It stood in the far reaches of the country garden, on sacred ground declared neutral during the war, though we still made a point of not visiting when the sky fay were here, and vice versa. Some of the old ways clung on.
Anyway, it wasn't just civilized honour that stopped the war from coming here.
Even as we approached the Elder Tree, the world… chilled. My breath came out in frozen puffs. The very colour of the sky and the trees and the grass dulled. Darkness shadowed all but the clouds and the sunlight above the trees. Still, the sky appeared to be the vanguard of a distant, deadly storm.
The Elder Tree was just a sheer column of bark. Time—or something infinitely stranger and worse—had reduced it to a trunk, which grew increasingly gnarled up its length as though it were trying unnaturally to turn into flames. The first time I saw the place as a child, I heard voices whispering. Eldritch voices. I didn't sleep for a week. The voices seemed to follow me home and surround me. Stalking. Watching. Testing me.
"Master?" I said uncertainly. Not once did I take my eyes off the Elder Tree.
Runes suggested themselves along its side. None had ever deciphered them; the runes changed every time you looked.
Only when we'd stopped to take all this in did Guru Yummy turn around and glare in my general direction.
"Violence, malice, destructive stupidity," he intoned. "We fight a motiveless war, its reasons lost to the mists of time. I cannot pray to stop it, however much I wish I could."
"Master, please understand. Don't you see us grieving for our dead? Don't you fear for our survival?"
"I have grieved alongside you! I have lost many friends over the centuries. Nevertheless, I have a duty to your hearts as well as to your bodies and minds. The Elder Tree predates our war. My grandfather told me that his grandfather told him that the Elder Tree was created by fay."
So far, so familiar. I stared up at the runes. They had changed again.
"Not on purpose, he explained. But when the corruption and abomination of evil darkens the hearts of many, even the world is disgusted. It sickens. Collapses. This, my child, is the gateway to Avalon’s dark heart."
I swear I heard the voices calling me, but every time I concentrated, I heard only silence.
"Our ancestors, including Merlin, tell us that fay who become too dark become drawn to the gateway. They begin to see nothing but destruction and hatred, so far gone are their hearts. And when that happens, one can open the gate. One can fall in, never to return."
This time, I wasn't imagining it: something whispered in my ear. Despite my years of experience, despite limping with the injuries of before, I shuddered and gave a start, looking around hastily. In that instant, even the war itself seemed… insignificant.
Guru Yummy grabbed me by the chin and forced me to stare. To stare at my reflections in those dark glasses, hiding his furious face.
"So do not let war claim you. Seek enlightenment. Death is an abomination already, but it also violates the purity of a living fay's heart. Fight to end the war, not to prolong its suffering."
Fight to end it. If only it were that simple.
See, it's easy to agree with Guru Yummy when you're sitting around in a hollowed-out tree, sipping buttercup tea, and sharing baked goods with friends. It's harder when you're bullet-riddled and the last time you saw half your friends was before your platoon detonated right in front of you.
That night, I tried to put his words out of my mind. We were on reconnaissance. When I say we, I mean me and Lady Pitter-patter. During our war, we metal fay recruited as many allies as we felt able to persuade. Lady Pitter-patter came from a nearby private forest; she was one of the guardians of the ornamental deer they kept.
Over time, we metal fay have tended to go for the more old-fashioned kind of fairy. Nature spirits. Forest elves. Animal protectors. Looking back, I suppose it was simply a reaction to our own losses. By that night, I hadn't even eaten fruit or meat; we'd gotten so used to scavenging human food. Hey, it was delicious.
So you can imagine it was quite reassuring to have someone like Lady Pitter-patter around. We'd pulled each other out of a few fires over the years, sung the old songs, told stories of long-dead heroes and legendary warriors. I was almost a child again.
Not that she talked much outside of that. Fay who associate with nature for too long tend to adopt some of its trappings. When she ate, she even looked up and chewed like a doe contemplating flight. Must've been the twitchy ears.
Even her weapon was old-fashioned. A sword. Quaint, huh? The metal fay had managed magic guns and bombs. She still used swords.
That night, we investigated the decorative stones of the eastern gardens. They towered around us on the grass like monoliths trying to become mountains. The place was a Stone Age leftover from a time when fay and men freely communicated with and respected each other. The stones now had no magical significance, but they survived as historical artefacts and the Malory humans of the manor dared not touch them. Good. I'd hate to think what would happen if they did.
Normally, a night like that one would just be a mixture of stomach-knotting tension and utter listless boredom. We'd find nothing, false alarm, go home, and so on.
Tonight was different.
A distress call reached us through the planes. A low, yelping moan.
Lady Pitter-patter was the first to react. Instantly, she jumped from the "warzone" to the next plane, the plane of spirits. At once, the world transformed before us. The leftover magic from the stones became a royal miasma of purple mist. Overhead, the moon blazed with subdued fire and another, smaller companion peered out from below it. Her dark locks glowed white. I soon braved the jump, and the weight of darkness pressed in all around me. Even here, the war left its taint.
The low, yelping moan grew.
Finally, we stepped through the scattered stones and found the victim.
A nature spirit.
Two luminescent eyes peered down the snout of a fox. Ears as long as a fay shot up with hope.
The fox spirit towered over us, yet still seemed lost among the stones. Lady Pitter-patter took one look at its shadowy form, and instantly her eyes and mine found the source of its distress.
Sticking out of its chest was an arrow.
Liquid lightning—spirit's essence—crackled and poured out of the wound. It was like stabbing the night sky and drawing stars for blood. Both of its clawlike hands had already stained themselves with brilliance trying to pat uselessly at the arrow and the blood around it. Those equally hot eyes burned with animal hope and primeval fear.
Lady Pitter-patter drew her sword. Her other hand glowed with magic.
The question stared in horror at those wounds from the depths of my mind: Who would do such a thing?
To my relief, Lady Pitter-patter whistled, summoning the spirit closer, and immediately drew her glowing hand to the wound. As the magic leapt as fire from hand to chest, her sword hand rose up and the arrow was soon lying on the ground amid a splash of white blood. I bent down to examine it. Healing magic wasn't my specialty, and I was eager to be useful.
"Sky arrow," I said. "I'd recognize the shaft design anywhere. But why would they hunt a spirit?"
Lady Pitter-patter was silent with rage. I saw her shoulders shaking.
I couldn't blame her. To shoot at, much less wound, an innocent spirit? It was a violation of nature, a horrendous act of desecration. In all my years of fighting and shooting and watching fay cut down before me, I'd at least assumed the other creatures were well out of it. Lucky for them.
What could corrupt a mind to do this? Boredom? Fury? Disdain? Envy? None of the answers made any sense.
That night, Lady Pitter-patter changed. I was nominally leading, but she led the way now. We searched the area, not with our previous low expectations, but with bloodlust. We found nothing, not a camp nor a trail nor any signs of bloodshed. Even when we checked the other planes, we found nothing.
We returned home in silence that night. Lady Pitter-patter sang no songs around our communal fire, though my less-experienced fellows tried to coax her out of the nearby forest for some time.
The next day was our big chance to end this war: by killing the sky fay's king.
With the bomber ships out of action, the sky fay were desperate to launch a major assault on our camp in the nearby forest. Our mission was to invade their camp first.
Lady Pitter-patter led the charge. Guru Yummy had insisted we push the forces back, not attempt assassination, but though we nodded and bowed to him and swore we would honour our traditions, the truth was we were going to count their corpses afterwards and see who got the biggest number. We licked our lips at the chance.
I went for the magic rifle. It's not that effective up-close and personal, but I was used to wielding it. Certainly more used to it than to a sword.
Anyway, the assault.
Oh, it was glorious. The fools didn't even wake up before we burst out of the grass, shooting, hacking, cannoning into whatever looked like a sky fay, left and right, sometimes shooting one more bullet than was necessary, just to make sure the demons never got up again. It wasn't even sporting. Yet I loved every second of it.
Lady Pitter-patter was magnificent. She charged right into the heart of the camp, sword swiping, her head positively glowing with the joy of destruction. No doubt that cruel arrow from last night haunted her mind, drove her to slash and parry like a deranged vixen, yet she could twist the blade and instantly be as graceful as a stag. She leaped from fray to fray and then her might bowled her enemies over.
I gathered this out of the corner of my eye. Shooting was job enough for me. Element of surprise notwithstanding, we still had a lot of enemies to get through, and now they'd found weapons and were shooting and hacking back. Right in the heart of the camp, where the long table had been set up and the silver platters now lay scattered on the soil, I got caught behind said upturned table and jumped out, shot, and ducked backwards, hiding behind it again. Red beams brought back memories. I was Skybreaker! I wouldn't go down to mere gunners!
And then, amid the chaos, he came striding.
The King of the Sky Fay.
Corruption clung to him; every part of him—his many raven wings, his imperial robe, his laurel wreath—was dark with purple hues, as though he'd bathed in royal ink. Yet as he strode through, a mass of robes and feathers, he seemed more puzzled by what was happening. No fear. Just puzzlement.
I jumped out to shoot, and in that instant Lady Pitter-patter must have seen him. Her cry could freeze the blood of a harpy, or torment the soul of the most unrepentant of killers.
She galloped forwards. The king only had time to raise his sword for a parry before her own blade almost shattered his.
What a swordfight. He had technique and experience on his side, all against the sudden dangers of fury and her own horrified memories of the fox spirit's blood. Neither had the advantage here.
I raised my rifle to change all that.
Then, in a flap of his many wings, he had leaped over a desperate thrust and shot up into the skies, vanishing into another plane of existence. Lady Pitter-patter screamed and went after him in a flash. Around me I saw sky fay fleeing and vanishing in panic. My fellows caught up with me and then stopped to watch.
I don't remember now how many I killed. We counted up the bodies and guessed, but by then I was coming off my battle high. Only after we'd burned the bodies and headed back did Guru Yummy enter my mind.
At the time, I felt no guilt. My heart cheered for the brave Lady Pitter-patter, who stood up to a scandalous king.
She did not return. We waited until sunset. She did not return.
The loss of Lady Pitter-patter hung heavy over us the next day. For all I knew, she was dead. Many fay had made the jump and then disappeared forever. We would honour their memories in song. At least, we would if we still sang all that much. Nowadays, we resorted to writing down the names and promising a memorial for them once the war was over.
That day, we were attending to the fire and checking our rations when I came out of the tent and saw Guru Yummy scurrying towards us.
We waited for him to regain his breath. We gave him water and scraps of rice scraped off some packaging from the manor's trash. We bent our heads low to listen.
Finally, he spluttered, "The humans! They've vanished! Come quickly!"
"I'll go," I said. The others looked relieved; seeing Guru Yummy out of breath like this was ominous. The world was turning upside-down. Thus far, he'd always been seen as a steady rock.
We didn't have far to travel. Only a few minutes from our camp, we slid out of the "warzone" and into the mortal plane. Here, close to the manor which loomed as stately as a mountain over the vast acres of green, the earth was bare. At least on any other day, it would've been. Now...
"I felt it as soon as I stepped this way," said Guru Yummy. "By now, the humans would be coming out to enjoy the weekend sun and the feel of holy earth between their toes. Yet their trace vanishes as soon as we come to... this."
Despite his words and wisdom, I had to hold my tongue for a lot of it. Very few fay were keen enough to sense the traces of magic all humans left in their wake, and certainly no one but Guru Yummy in my clan could sniff them out. We simply trusted him. Insofar as we could, given his age and recent strange judgement.
Obediently, I looked where he was pointing.
Printed deep in the soil, two human footprints remained. The arch of the soles, the individual toes, even the slight dip where the pressure had shifted for the next step: all of it told of a human preparing to walk across their beloved garden.
But no human.
"They ought to be watering the begonias by now," I said, more to myself than to Guru Yummy. He knew already.
"Humans do not just vanish into thin air!"
Startled by the violence of his voice, I blinked at him. "Master, has this ever happened before?"
"No! Humans leave the traditional way! They have never vanished like this!"
"Could they have gone to a different plane?"
"Had they done so, I would still have sensed something. All humans carry magic deep within their brainy heads. It is the source of their subtle power. Yet not a sign of it."
"You're sure?"
He rounded on me. "How can you doubt my judgement at a time like this? Spirits show up wounded, humans vanish... Something unnatural is happening here."
I sighed. "Is it the war again?"
"Why do you say it like that?" His bristling settled down at once, and the years showed on his face as he next spoke. "I know there is something profoundly wrong at work here. War and fay were never meant to coexist like this, I am sure of it."
Again, I sighed. After the routing of the sky fay encampment, this kind of ill wind was blowing at a bad time. "With all due respect, Master, I doubt anything magical is involved. Perhaps you are mistaken? Perhaps the humans simply changed their schedule? You yourself told us stories of those days when they showed capriciousness."
He said nothing. Even when we left the footprints and walked home again, he said nothing.
It had to be said, though. Guru Yummy was becoming erratic and emotional in his old age. That would impinge on our war effort, perhaps even get other fay killed. For the time being, it was best to humour him and start thinking about how to work around him in time for the next assault. Once we located the main headquarters and the hiding place of the sky fay, perhaps then, finally, the war would be over.
Disappearing humans? It simply could not be true.
So I hoped.
Our search for Lady Pitter-patter began that very night.
Guru Yummy was all for it, though he hesitated when I mentioned the risks involved. Some weighing of risks to ourselves versus risks to Lady Pitter-patter must have caught on his careful mind, only to be dislodged. That cheered me up. For a moment, I'd feared he had no honour left.
The two of us ventured close to the Elder Tree's surrounding territory, my rifle at the ready. One sky fay tried to sneak up on us—possibly a scout—but one snapped twig later, and boom. She was one more body to bury.
Guru Yummy was tight-lipped with fury. We did not talk for a long time.
Only when we ventured close to the rhododendrons, incidentally close to the Elder Tree, did he hold out an arm to stop me. Patiently, he sniffed the air like a hunter.
"Humans," he said.
I refrained from saying something like "I told you so." How tempting it was, though. He hadn't been impressing me of late.
Frowning, his head turned to a seemingly random collection of stalks nearby, but I knew he had aimed due Elder Tree.
"Interesting," he said.
"Master?"
Then he became tight-lipped again. I waited for minutes, yet he said nothing more.
Deep within my concentrating mind, though, uneasy thoughts stirred. "Master, can you sense Lady Pitter-patter?"
"Not on this plane."
"What about the others?"
"Let me see... Sadly, not. My child—Feathersnuggle—I know you have accepted too much loss already. It is hard to never see your friends again. Trust me. For your own sake, and not just for the sake of your fighting skills or this war, you must prepare yourself to accept that a dear friend of yours may have disappeared forever."
The speech cut right through me. In truth, I'd been dreading this very thing. After all, dozens of our fay had disappeared in pursuit of the enemy. None had come back.
"Master," I said, more quietly than usual, "I know."
He patted my hand. Like he used to do when I was a child, when his blind face had fewer lines and hardly ever burned with the rage of time and loss. For once, I had a glimpse of why he hated violence and death so much. I was almost there seeing his younger self, listening to the cries of fallen friends, and that coldness in his heart that told him what he had to know, and yet never wanted to hear.
Unexpectedly, he tensed. He sniffed the air.
"What's this?" he whispered. Stepping forwards, he sniffed again. "The closer we get to the Elder Tree, the stronger the scent of human becomes. Impossible. The Malory family cannot traverse even normal planes. They couldn't have entered the portal to darkness!"
Chills crept down my spine as I approached him. "I sense it too, Master!"
Sweat twinkled on his forehead in the midnight shade of the rhododendrons.
"What does it mean?" I said, trying to sound respectful.
He turned to me at once. "I don't believe the humans opened the gateway from this side. Something must have either pulled them through or pushed them in. But nothing can pull through the gateway because the darkness consumes all, yet nothing can push them through because it would take a deeply corrupted mind to even think up such a plot!"
The weakness of this last claim did not go unnoticed. "The sky fay," I said at once. "What did they do?"
"A human sacrifice."
My blood froze. Stories of those crept into my mind. Old stories, told on winter nights with the tiny candles and the shadows all around. Stories of ancient elven beings who lured humans into the depths of darkness, in exchange for powers of their own. Who themselves were darkness, and consumed humans in lieu of the dark places. But that had stopped over a thousand years ago, according to Guru Yummy and his ancestors. The practice—or its practitioners—disappeared.
Before me, the branches of the rhododendrons glowed.
Red blazes scorched my eyes.
"I simply don't understand it," said Guru Yummy, scratching his head, completely oblivious thanks to his blind eyes.
Hastily, I grabbed his arm. "Master! There's a red light up ahead. The branches are burning!"
"They're what?"
"Burning!"
"Up ahead? But that is the way of the Elder Tree. Magic should not be coming out of there to strike the living plants! Unless..."
I looked up. Now even the leaves were aflame with silent fire. "Unless what?"
"Unless the sacrifice is now being rewarded."
"Rewarded with what, Master?"
Suddenly, the world around us was pure white. I followed it up to a growling shape.
On all the planes, ripples broke through. Black runes hovered like ash in the white light. Branches snapped. Leaves rained down as hard as tiles from a collapsing roof: I yanked Guru Yummy out of the path of one. Worst of all was the smell: an acid, clawing scent that tore the nose to shreds and filled the mind with the dread of living decay. I almost expected my skin to start sloughing off in chunks under that noxious toxin.
Out of the night, a leg smashed into the soil. Inches away.
I drew my rifle at once.
The leg of a tarantula, but swollen and spiked with hairs until it was the column size of a ox's limb. This spindly creeper-leg rose up to the light, beyond which—I squinted through as many planes as possible—I found the head of a monstrous ant, flexing tentacles with glee.
They sang. Ancient songs from a time before sound, rhythms crashing and flowing at once with the grace and command of a tar-slick sea. I couldn't move. Horror and morbid fascination and sheer overwhelmed confusion crept through me while the heads of ants loomed and the white light began to scorch away all other details in the world. I stared into it, beguiled...
Thank goodness for Guru Yummy. His blindness and discipline must have saved him, because he yanked me out of the spotlight and ran with me trailing behind him. Instantly, the spell broke.
"Not now!" he was shouting. "This is an omen! There are worse things yet to come!"
I said nothing. Behind us, the crashing of legs dared me to look back and scream.
The monsters, those ant-tarantula distortions of nature and reality, moved slowly enough so we could escape. Unfortunately, they moved like zombies with the inevitable patience of mindless malice. If ever we stopped to breathe, they soon caught up, having no breath of their own.
Eventually, Guru Yummy and I broke apart and fled into the grass. Screams and lights broke out in front of us. The camp fires were visible through the blades.
I went to seek higher ground. If only I could get out of range of those monsters, find a place to escape their song and tentacles. I patted my rifle reassuringly. There wouldn't even be time for payback. I would kill them for even daring to exist.
Up the embankment I went. Far below, screams. Thuds. Sreeching glee from the chthonian monsters of corrupted earth, of twisted life, those antarantulas.
Soon, I found an outcrop on which to lay low. I had higher ground. And the whole spectacle laid out below me.
Those monsters stamped through the scattered dots of my comrades: some torch-bearers were trying to carry as much of the camp fire as possible. Some had their own bioluminescence or helpful pets like fireflies to guide them in the dark. Yet they stood out to the antarantulas like dishes in a buffet. Monstrous spindly limbs stamped, walking over the nearby stream in defiance of natural law, barely rippling it, the searchlights on their monstrous heads swung back and forth, and I knew anyone unlucky enough to be caught in one would hear the eerie singing, and be entranced, and fall prey to the first antarantula that reached them.
I aimed at the heads. There was no chance I'd kill them; what doesn't live can never die. Taking out those headlights would give us the advantage, though.
And yet... and yet, I hesitated.
Yes. Skybreaker, the great war hero, hesitated.
I noticed the things were not interested in us per se. This caught me off-guard; if this was a sky fay plot, then we would inevitably have been the targets. Certainly, they took an interest in whatever lay in their path. Yet overall, there was a sense that we were just in the way. They hurried through our crowd—insofar as big galumphing beasts can hurry when we outrun them three times over—as though determined to waste as little time on us as possible. They were almost clear of the stream already.
What if there was a way to use these things? Look at what they were doing to my own camp. Imagine that terror and death visited upon my enemies. The sky fay could flee from us and be safe, but flee from what would never stop?
Perhaps the beasts had been summoned by my own side for that very purpose?
No one would have condoned it ahead of time. But now it was done, now I realized the beasts were definitely moving towards the last known location of the sky fay? Why not cheer them on?
I changed my mind when I heard the scream.
One of my own had fallen, or been crushed by something, but for whatever reason their light couldn't get out of the way in time. Searchlights landed on this. The beasts' heads leaned down like the burnt, twisted effigies of cranes. I sensed, on the edge of hearing, their siren song.
If they caught anyone... no... I wouldn't wish that on my enemies. Death, torture... those would be a picnic compared to what the antarantulas would do.
More immediate concerns for my comrade brought my rifle up again.
I fired.
The beast closest to the victim's light lost its own. On all planes, anger splashed and rippled. Other searchlights swung back and forth, trying to find me. I kept low and aimed again.
Behind me, I heard feet galloping. When I looked around, Lady Pitter-patter was in mid-leap.
My word, did it hurt. She landed right on top of me.
"NO!" she screeched. "THE KING WILL SUFFER! I HAVE WILLED IT! HOW DARE YOU STOP ME!?"
"Look what those monsters are doing!" I cried out; one of her feet pressed against my cheek, pinning my head down.
"Yes!" she shouted, and flecks of spittle rained down on me. "It is the perfect revenge! War, terror, destruction: as soon as these beasts have destroyed the sky fay, I will have ended all that!"
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. This was Lady Pitter-patter, Guardian of the Deer, our friend and ally, lover of all nature. Days ago, she'd been laughing and planning raids along with the best of us. Now she was screeching out for blood.
"But our camp's being attacked," I said.
"They will pass. You'd rather lose our friends later? To those sky-born scum?"
I saw the spotlights find us. Found them growing more intense. At once, I shut my eyes, blinding myself.
Hopelessly, I fired. Doubtless I hit nothing.
"You dare defy me," Lady Pitter-patter hissed. "I will stop you too."
I swung the rifle hard.
It was pure survival instinct. I never wanted to hurt my friend, but something ancient and desperate had other ideas.
While she staggered and cursed, I threw her off and ran for it. There was no way she could genuinely control those beasts. Antarantulas were creatures of darkness. Compelled though they were by the terrible magic of human sacrifice, loyalty and mercy meant nothing to them.
I wish I could have saved her. In fact, I turned around to call her back. She refused.
When they caught up with her...
I won't tell you a thing. To say it gives me nightmares would be to trivialize it.
I fled.
Dawn found me at the rocky lands to the west, where the orderly garden gave way to hills that could have broken off to become their own worlds, so immense was their size. This was a land of harshness.
Throughout the night, I'd been sniping at the antarantulas. Taking out their searchlights, it transpired, just made them berserk. They lost all sense of direction, grabbing anything in their path with monstrous tentacles. It was all I could do to block out the screams.
Realizing how futile it was to fight pure destruction, I left to find Guru Yummy. He'd left no trace, search though I did. By now, I was starting to fear the worst. I fell into despair. Guru Yummy was a nuisance at times, but he'd been part of my memories since childhood. He'd known what to do, or at least had been certain all his life. To lose him now, when we were at our weakest... When I was...
A shape appeared on the horizon. I squinted.
Ah, it was my old friend the fox spirit. Looking better than before, bounding across the slope of the hill to reach me. I heard the thundering from here. And he had a passenger.
I squinted harder.
As the spirit drew up, I raised my rifle.
The sky fay on his back held up his hands and waved a white cloth. "Don't attack! I have come for aid."
I kept my rifle on him. No one had used the white cloth since olden times, according to Guru Yummy. Seeking aid from the enemy?
Then I recognized him: The King of the Sky Fay. He lowered his cloth and hopped down. At once, I re-aimed my rifle.
He stared at me for a long while. Then, patiently, he drew back his cloak and picked up his sheathed sword, scabbard and all. He dropped it at his feet, obviously and theatrically. Then he unslung his bow-and-arrows and dropped those next to it too.
Lastly, he patted the spirit's leg. "Do you believe our friend here would have let me ride on his back, had I possessed any malice towards you? Relax. I am unarmed. This sword is my gift to you, if you like. My forefathers infused it with powerful magic granted them by the spirits so that it may vanquish the taint of evil."
I kept my rifle aimed at him. This could still be a trick. And yet... Guru Yummy spoke of the same ancient magic. Only our highest-ranking swordmasters used it.
"My forces are scattered and refuse to return," he said. "The bombing raid you thwarted was our big hope to claim victory. You not only stopped us, but routed our camp and gave me the shock of my life. As one warrior to another, I commend you for you skill and bravery, Skybreaker of the Metal Fay."
"What do you want?" I said between gritted teeth. He'd drawn his sword against Lady Pitter-patter. He must have driven her to do this...
"I want to end this war. I am tired, and so are my subjects. I remember my father telling me when the metal fay used to be the earth fay. Likewise, we sky spirits used to be humble spirits of wind. We did not set our sights as high as the entire celestial sphere back then. We kept to our own element."
"And you think you can say anything to me now and—?"
"I am willing to seek help from a more neutral source. To do that, we'll need to travel to another plane of existence, one that hasn't been visited in over a thousand years. I had originally planned to venture to the source of our evil, through the Elder Tree and into the heart of darkness."
"You must be crazy."
"Yes, I was. Never enter the dark portal. It consumes all. I was taught that by my father too. So instead, I reasoned there must be a gateway to Avalon itself. There, perhaps, we will find holy beings. Peace."
I glanced at the fox spirit. It seemed remarkably relaxed in his presence.
For a moment, pain winced on the king's face. "Yes, this poor creature was my victim. The bombing raid failed; I searched for survivors. I found none. Several of my friends perished that day. My old friend here came to comfort me, but darkness claimed my heart in a moment of weakness. In frustration, I drew my bow-and-arrow on him. I... deeply regret that now. The poor trusting beast sensed my evil too late."
He looked down at his feet. Briefly, I imagined him as a young boy, listening to stories on his father's knee. The sheer size of his robes and wings made his head look awfully small.
"That was when I resolved once and for all to end this war, but not by giving in to the darkness. Instead, we must look to the light."
He extended a hand.
"There is no love lost between us, Skybreaker. I have caused you pain and grief too. But... for the good of peace, I would like you to join me on this quest."
I stared at him. A peace offering? From the murderer of my friends and family?
My trigger finger itched.
Then I looked up at the fox spirit's face. At his pure, burning eyes. Even now, I saw the purple mist of corruption stuck on him like tar on a once-magnificent bird. The sight disgusted me.
Thinking I could prepare for any backstabbing, just in case, I shook the king's hand.
He beamed at me.
Then, from our hands, colours grew. Lights danced over the rock below. The rainbow rose from this moment towards the clouds overhead. As I watched, all the colours reflected in my heart the higher emotions we'd once felt: laughter, and joy, and excitement, and sheer indulgent pleasures. Memories of a bygone age, waiting to come back.
I felt it in my very bones.
The king withdrew, beaming at me while I took up his sword and bow. "A glimpse of what once was, and of what may yet return to us. This rainbow is a portal of light. It will take you to Avalon's castle. Legend tells that the Queen of the Fay dwells within. Seek help from her. She may end this war."
I knew the legends from Guru Yummy. According to legend, King Arthur himself gave the Queen this castle as a gesture of goodwill. Then later, for no apparent reason, he had tried to conquer it back. Her magic had repelled him, and ever since the place had been a sanctuary for those fay lucky enough to find it, seeking refuge from the world below.
I remembered Lady Pitter-patter's scream. Consumed by darkness. And I saw the young boy in the king's face.
I stepped forwards.
Gently, very gently, I was lifted up into the sky. I closed my eyes for most of it. One thing they won't tell you about Skybreaker, Bane of Airships, is that she's a little afraid of heights.
And there was the castle in the sky.
I sensed I had stopped flying and opened my eyes. The castle was impossible; it weighed upon the eyes, but the clouds underneath were so insubstantial I expected them to disintegrate at any minute. Instead, I held my breath, tried not to think of those thoughts, and went inside, across the drawbridge, towards the main hall.
Something was wrong. The moment I stepped inside, everything seemed... darker than it should have been. Shadows moved contrary to the light, at random, out of synch. Chains and metal things were everywhere. I couldn't even begin to describe what half of them were designed to do, but it was like being surrounded by knives, gears, and corrugated iron sheets.
The Queen of the Fay lived here?
Something wasn't right. I sensed the same malicious presence from before. This was like approaching the chilly greyness of the Elder Tree...
...which appeared before me, ghostly, for an instant...
I sensed something behind me and swung my sword.
It broke.
The Queen of the Fay stepped out of the shadows. Or rather, the shadows stepped out of her. I heard the same eldritch song of the antarantulas, senses melting away. I was being dumbfounded and beguiled...
I fought back, raised bow-and-arrow. Queen or not, I sensed danger. Perhaps this was a fake—
She waved a hand irritably. "You dare offend ME!?"
The bow turned to dust in my hands. I yelped as her searchlight's curse pinned me where I stood. Now I sensed the darkness radiating off her. Runes appeared and disappeared at random in midair.
"First King Arthur, and now you," said the Queen witheringly. "Vicious, unprovoked monsters."
Her mind bled into mine. For a moment, I felt her anger, her betrayal, her rage, her spite, her envy of King Arthur, of all that was good and holy in the world, how it had let her down again and again, how that bastard Merlin had told her, HER, she would become too dark with her witchcraft. Told her she would fall into darkness. Told her she would not be bound to the heart of darkness, but would BE the heart of darkness. I sensed her resentment, her greed, her pride bruised and bleeding.
"I will escape this infernal castle," she said. "Now the portal of darkness is opened. You see, I needed hearts to corrupt. I'd been working on the fay for centuries, spinning them into an endless war, until finally the perfect fool came along. The king was a disappointment, but Lady Pitter-patter was so eager to avenge her miserable friends, wasn't she?"
"You've been doing this to us! You cursed us!" I tried to reach for my rifle. Useless. I might as well have tried flying.
"And now you come to finish me off? Has not Queen Morgana of the Fay suffered enough humiliation!? Felt enough pain!? Endured enough TERROR!?"
She threw me back, screeching as she did so. Metal smacked my spine. I felt blood trickle. Fires of pain broke out all over me. I barely had enough consciousness to see her advance, see her sprout tentacles, summon ghostly antarantulas...
Urgently, I reached for my rifle.
And that was when I realized.
I hesitated.
Then I lowered my questing hand.
"I did not come here to kill you." I spoke loudly, confidently, fighting to stand upright and to keep my mind clear of darkness. No revenge. No bloodlust. No anger. I took several deep breaths.
"LIAR!"
"I want peace, not destruction. I'm tired too."
"THEN HAVE YOUR ETERNAL REST!" Her tentacles shot forwards.
I closed my eyes. There was no peace here. It had been foolish to seek peace from without. I don't think I had that idea in my head exactly. I wasn't thinking. Understanding just seeped in. Like I knew it all along.
I found peace within. To change the world is folly. To change yourself is your only hope.
I told Guru Yummy that when I met him again later. He liked the sound of it. Said he'd borrow it.
When I opened my eyes, her tentacles went right through me. She was as insubstantial as shadow. Her antarantulas disintegrated under the light.
"Impossible!" She slashed and slashed and slashed, darkening every time until she was but a black shape. "I took your family! I desecrated your spirits! Broke the deer guardian's mind! I sense your pain!"
My inner child sighed. Darkness implodes, consuming itself. But the light reaches out and touches those blessed to receive it.
Morgana's cries of rage and fear followed me as I stepped out of the castle, out of the realm, down the rainbow, and back to the waiting king. I'd never felt so light inside. So... cleansed.
He fell to his knees. "Your wings... Such rainbow beauty... Just like the legends of the olden fay..."
I reached out to touch the fox spirit's nuzzling snout. The purple on the fur retreated, revealing brilliant gold. I smiled at him.
Sunshine. Humanity. Kindness, songs, rainbows and flowers. They could all come back.
I had found peace. The secret. Enlightenment. My mission: to spread it, to heal, to revive the world of the fay.
I, Feathersnuggle, stepped forth, leaving sunflowers sprouting in my wake. Sunlight shone down. I gaped as a child.
They say there's a line between darkness and light. There isn't. Between those two extremes lie the encouraging slopes of grey. And when the light changes so slowly that you can't even see it, sooner or later even the purest day is just another inch to the right...
We metal fay learned this from Guru Yummy. Most of us didn't listen. That was one reason why our war against the sky fay lasted so long.
Malory Manor. South side of the country garden. The edge of the lawn. Over the ornamental reservoir.
The fleet of ships was huge. Each one was the size of a car. Their magic cannons were sensitive; no other aircraft could approach without being blasted and sunk. That's why I went in, a lone fairy operative, too small to be seen by the cannoneers.
My mission was simple: blow the mothership. Each ship contained so much magic that, this close together, the first explosion would trigger others in a chain reaction. Fireworks over the waters. The trick was to get the bombs in the right places.
If they got to the other side of the reservoir—to our territory—they'd unleash their payload. Dozens of my friends would perish in a blink. You don't need other reasons to continue a war. You just need to make sure one battle after another goes your way, to pay them back for winning against you.
Oh yes, we knew why the war was continuing.
I got in without issue. One bomb beneath the cannon fuel source. One next to the engine room's main outlet. One near the payload bay—that was when they spotted me. The engineer got away before I could hide. I had no weapons. Our magic lasers on this ship would have reacted with the ambient magic. That chain reaction, if I fired, would include my sorry hide.
I hurried. Once their infantry found me, I'd be dead in seconds. So I planted the last bomb on the hull and got ready to leave.
Four gunners. I didn't even see the first one. That bastard shot me in the thigh; all I remembered was a flash of lead and then my leg was suddenly on fire with pain. I fell over, rolled off the walkway, took another shot in the kidneys, and rolled right off.
Onto the glass.
It was a viewing dome, underside of the ship. Below me, the other ships surged into position, completely unaware of what was going on up here. Four shots ricocheted off the thick glass. I heard cracking.
As their lasers aimed at me for the final volley, briefly blinding me with their patient red lights as they looked for my vitals, I worked on automatic. The pain was so bad I just ran through the protocol like a robot.
I took out the detonator. Flicked the safety pin out.
There were two buttons on the thing. One was the main detonator: no surprises there. The other was my salvation.
Before I went on this mission, I met my master, Guru Yummy of the earth fay. Unlike the metal fay, he did not fight in the war, too old and blind to even land a punch for us. But he was a tutor. In his old age, he was also going soft.
Before I went on this mission, he came to me, he said, "I have been meditating. The purpose of war is not to shed blood. It is to disarm your enemy. Do not kill if you can ever incapacitate. Kill if you have no choice. But make sure you have no choice. Promise an old fairy that?"
The other button was a stun switch. If I pressed it, the ships would still explode, but a protective spell would simultaneously be unleashed, preventing any caught in the blast radius from instantly dying. At this height over water, there were risks—the engineer fairies had only put it in out of respect for Guru Yummy’s angry wishes—but "might die upon splashing" is better than "will die upon exploding".
I ignored it.
By now, I was in too much pain to care. I had lost too many friends.
I pressed the first button.
The blast front vibrated the ship, shattering the glass. Instantly, I flipped round, through breaking shards—I didn't notice the cuts until later—diving through the sky while the world turned red behind me. Other ships to the side caught fire and bloomed into vicious flames. Shrapnel scythed around me. Then the ships below me were hit. By then, I had fallen past, and so barely heard the beginnings of the explosion when the water engulfed me and muffled the worst of it. Shielded me. Deafened me. Cooled my wounds.
Not one ship made it to shore. Not one survivor was found.
That was when I earned the name "Skybreaker".
Guru Yummy summoned me later that day, stony-faced and glaring behind his dark glasses. Although blind, he doubtless heard me rustling through the grass blades as I approached.
"So…" he said coldly. "Skybreaker, is it now? I preferred Captain Feathersnuggle."
I winced. To a fay, names like "Feathersnuggle" are okay until we discover ones like "Skybreaker".
"Bygone times, Master," I said, bowing low enough to be horizontal from waist to skull.
"And slowly forgotten. Fairies are supposed to be peaceful. Metal fay are supposed to be earth fay: soft and life-giving, not hard and dead inside."
"The time of rainbows and sunshine is over, Master. With all due respect," I added hastily.
"Follow me, Feathersnuggle."
Wincing at the old name, I trudged through the grass after him. Somehow, he wasn't forcing his way through the blades like I was, instead sidling and flowing as easily as wind.
Despite that day's drama, the humans in the garden completely failed to notice us as we slid by. You see, there are several planes of reality, of which the mortal plane is but one. Most of our battles occurred in what we used to call the "Avalon plane". Now we called it the "warzone".
But no matter what plane we shift into, the Elder Tree is the same in all.
It stood in the far reaches of the country garden, on sacred ground declared neutral during the war, though we still made a point of not visiting when the sky fay were here, and vice versa. Some of the old ways clung on.
Anyway, it wasn't just civilized honour that stopped the war from coming here.
Even as we approached the Elder Tree, the world… chilled. My breath came out in frozen puffs. The very colour of the sky and the trees and the grass dulled. Darkness shadowed all but the clouds and the sunlight above the trees. Still, the sky appeared to be the vanguard of a distant, deadly storm.
The Elder Tree was just a sheer column of bark. Time—or something infinitely stranger and worse—had reduced it to a trunk, which grew increasingly gnarled up its length as though it were trying unnaturally to turn into flames. The first time I saw the place as a child, I heard voices whispering. Eldritch voices. I didn't sleep for a week. The voices seemed to follow me home and surround me. Stalking. Watching. Testing me.
"Master?" I said uncertainly. Not once did I take my eyes off the Elder Tree.
Runes suggested themselves along its side. None had ever deciphered them; the runes changed every time you looked.
Only when we'd stopped to take all this in did Guru Yummy turn around and glare in my general direction.
"Violence, malice, destructive stupidity," he intoned. "We fight a motiveless war, its reasons lost to the mists of time. I cannot pray to stop it, however much I wish I could."
"Master, please understand. Don't you see us grieving for our dead? Don't you fear for our survival?"
"I have grieved alongside you! I have lost many friends over the centuries. Nevertheless, I have a duty to your hearts as well as to your bodies and minds. The Elder Tree predates our war. My grandfather told me that his grandfather told him that the Elder Tree was created by fay."
So far, so familiar. I stared up at the runes. They had changed again.
"Not on purpose, he explained. But when the corruption and abomination of evil darkens the hearts of many, even the world is disgusted. It sickens. Collapses. This, my child, is the gateway to Avalon’s dark heart."
I swear I heard the voices calling me, but every time I concentrated, I heard only silence.
"Our ancestors, including Merlin, tell us that fay who become too dark become drawn to the gateway. They begin to see nothing but destruction and hatred, so far gone are their hearts. And when that happens, one can open the gate. One can fall in, never to return."
This time, I wasn't imagining it: something whispered in my ear. Despite my years of experience, despite limping with the injuries of before, I shuddered and gave a start, looking around hastily. In that instant, even the war itself seemed… insignificant.
Guru Yummy grabbed me by the chin and forced me to stare. To stare at my reflections in those dark glasses, hiding his furious face.
"So do not let war claim you. Seek enlightenment. Death is an abomination already, but it also violates the purity of a living fay's heart. Fight to end the war, not to prolong its suffering."
Fight to end it. If only it were that simple.
See, it's easy to agree with Guru Yummy when you're sitting around in a hollowed-out tree, sipping buttercup tea, and sharing baked goods with friends. It's harder when you're bullet-riddled and the last time you saw half your friends was before your platoon detonated right in front of you.
That night, I tried to put his words out of my mind. We were on reconnaissance. When I say we, I mean me and Lady Pitter-patter. During our war, we metal fay recruited as many allies as we felt able to persuade. Lady Pitter-patter came from a nearby private forest; she was one of the guardians of the ornamental deer they kept.
Over time, we metal fay have tended to go for the more old-fashioned kind of fairy. Nature spirits. Forest elves. Animal protectors. Looking back, I suppose it was simply a reaction to our own losses. By that night, I hadn't even eaten fruit or meat; we'd gotten so used to scavenging human food. Hey, it was delicious.
So you can imagine it was quite reassuring to have someone like Lady Pitter-patter around. We'd pulled each other out of a few fires over the years, sung the old songs, told stories of long-dead heroes and legendary warriors. I was almost a child again.
Not that she talked much outside of that. Fay who associate with nature for too long tend to adopt some of its trappings. When she ate, she even looked up and chewed like a doe contemplating flight. Must've been the twitchy ears.
Even her weapon was old-fashioned. A sword. Quaint, huh? The metal fay had managed magic guns and bombs. She still used swords.
That night, we investigated the decorative stones of the eastern gardens. They towered around us on the grass like monoliths trying to become mountains. The place was a Stone Age leftover from a time when fay and men freely communicated with and respected each other. The stones now had no magical significance, but they survived as historical artefacts and the Malory humans of the manor dared not touch them. Good. I'd hate to think what would happen if they did.
Normally, a night like that one would just be a mixture of stomach-knotting tension and utter listless boredom. We'd find nothing, false alarm, go home, and so on.
Tonight was different.
A distress call reached us through the planes. A low, yelping moan.
Lady Pitter-patter was the first to react. Instantly, she jumped from the "warzone" to the next plane, the plane of spirits. At once, the world transformed before us. The leftover magic from the stones became a royal miasma of purple mist. Overhead, the moon blazed with subdued fire and another, smaller companion peered out from below it. Her dark locks glowed white. I soon braved the jump, and the weight of darkness pressed in all around me. Even here, the war left its taint.
The low, yelping moan grew.
Finally, we stepped through the scattered stones and found the victim.
A nature spirit.
Two luminescent eyes peered down the snout of a fox. Ears as long as a fay shot up with hope.
The fox spirit towered over us, yet still seemed lost among the stones. Lady Pitter-patter took one look at its shadowy form, and instantly her eyes and mine found the source of its distress.
Sticking out of its chest was an arrow.
Liquid lightning—spirit's essence—crackled and poured out of the wound. It was like stabbing the night sky and drawing stars for blood. Both of its clawlike hands had already stained themselves with brilliance trying to pat uselessly at the arrow and the blood around it. Those equally hot eyes burned with animal hope and primeval fear.
Lady Pitter-patter drew her sword. Her other hand glowed with magic.
The question stared in horror at those wounds from the depths of my mind: Who would do such a thing?
To my relief, Lady Pitter-patter whistled, summoning the spirit closer, and immediately drew her glowing hand to the wound. As the magic leapt as fire from hand to chest, her sword hand rose up and the arrow was soon lying on the ground amid a splash of white blood. I bent down to examine it. Healing magic wasn't my specialty, and I was eager to be useful.
"Sky arrow," I said. "I'd recognize the shaft design anywhere. But why would they hunt a spirit?"
Lady Pitter-patter was silent with rage. I saw her shoulders shaking.
I couldn't blame her. To shoot at, much less wound, an innocent spirit? It was a violation of nature, a horrendous act of desecration. In all my years of fighting and shooting and watching fay cut down before me, I'd at least assumed the other creatures were well out of it. Lucky for them.
What could corrupt a mind to do this? Boredom? Fury? Disdain? Envy? None of the answers made any sense.
That night, Lady Pitter-patter changed. I was nominally leading, but she led the way now. We searched the area, not with our previous low expectations, but with bloodlust. We found nothing, not a camp nor a trail nor any signs of bloodshed. Even when we checked the other planes, we found nothing.
We returned home in silence that night. Lady Pitter-patter sang no songs around our communal fire, though my less-experienced fellows tried to coax her out of the nearby forest for some time.
The next day was our big chance to end this war: by killing the sky fay's king.
With the bomber ships out of action, the sky fay were desperate to launch a major assault on our camp in the nearby forest. Our mission was to invade their camp first.
Lady Pitter-patter led the charge. Guru Yummy had insisted we push the forces back, not attempt assassination, but though we nodded and bowed to him and swore we would honour our traditions, the truth was we were going to count their corpses afterwards and see who got the biggest number. We licked our lips at the chance.
I went for the magic rifle. It's not that effective up-close and personal, but I was used to wielding it. Certainly more used to it than to a sword.
Anyway, the assault.
Oh, it was glorious. The fools didn't even wake up before we burst out of the grass, shooting, hacking, cannoning into whatever looked like a sky fay, left and right, sometimes shooting one more bullet than was necessary, just to make sure the demons never got up again. It wasn't even sporting. Yet I loved every second of it.
Lady Pitter-patter was magnificent. She charged right into the heart of the camp, sword swiping, her head positively glowing with the joy of destruction. No doubt that cruel arrow from last night haunted her mind, drove her to slash and parry like a deranged vixen, yet she could twist the blade and instantly be as graceful as a stag. She leaped from fray to fray and then her might bowled her enemies over.
I gathered this out of the corner of my eye. Shooting was job enough for me. Element of surprise notwithstanding, we still had a lot of enemies to get through, and now they'd found weapons and were shooting and hacking back. Right in the heart of the camp, where the long table had been set up and the silver platters now lay scattered on the soil, I got caught behind said upturned table and jumped out, shot, and ducked backwards, hiding behind it again. Red beams brought back memories. I was Skybreaker! I wouldn't go down to mere gunners!
And then, amid the chaos, he came striding.
The King of the Sky Fay.
Corruption clung to him; every part of him—his many raven wings, his imperial robe, his laurel wreath—was dark with purple hues, as though he'd bathed in royal ink. Yet as he strode through, a mass of robes and feathers, he seemed more puzzled by what was happening. No fear. Just puzzlement.
I jumped out to shoot, and in that instant Lady Pitter-patter must have seen him. Her cry could freeze the blood of a harpy, or torment the soul of the most unrepentant of killers.
She galloped forwards. The king only had time to raise his sword for a parry before her own blade almost shattered his.
What a swordfight. He had technique and experience on his side, all against the sudden dangers of fury and her own horrified memories of the fox spirit's blood. Neither had the advantage here.
I raised my rifle to change all that.
Then, in a flap of his many wings, he had leaped over a desperate thrust and shot up into the skies, vanishing into another plane of existence. Lady Pitter-patter screamed and went after him in a flash. Around me I saw sky fay fleeing and vanishing in panic. My fellows caught up with me and then stopped to watch.
I don't remember now how many I killed. We counted up the bodies and guessed, but by then I was coming off my battle high. Only after we'd burned the bodies and headed back did Guru Yummy enter my mind.
At the time, I felt no guilt. My heart cheered for the brave Lady Pitter-patter, who stood up to a scandalous king.
She did not return. We waited until sunset. She did not return.
The loss of Lady Pitter-patter hung heavy over us the next day. For all I knew, she was dead. Many fay had made the jump and then disappeared forever. We would honour their memories in song. At least, we would if we still sang all that much. Nowadays, we resorted to writing down the names and promising a memorial for them once the war was over.
That day, we were attending to the fire and checking our rations when I came out of the tent and saw Guru Yummy scurrying towards us.
We waited for him to regain his breath. We gave him water and scraps of rice scraped off some packaging from the manor's trash. We bent our heads low to listen.
Finally, he spluttered, "The humans! They've vanished! Come quickly!"
"I'll go," I said. The others looked relieved; seeing Guru Yummy out of breath like this was ominous. The world was turning upside-down. Thus far, he'd always been seen as a steady rock.
We didn't have far to travel. Only a few minutes from our camp, we slid out of the "warzone" and into the mortal plane. Here, close to the manor which loomed as stately as a mountain over the vast acres of green, the earth was bare. At least on any other day, it would've been. Now...
"I felt it as soon as I stepped this way," said Guru Yummy. "By now, the humans would be coming out to enjoy the weekend sun and the feel of holy earth between their toes. Yet their trace vanishes as soon as we come to... this."
Despite his words and wisdom, I had to hold my tongue for a lot of it. Very few fay were keen enough to sense the traces of magic all humans left in their wake, and certainly no one but Guru Yummy in my clan could sniff them out. We simply trusted him. Insofar as we could, given his age and recent strange judgement.
Obediently, I looked where he was pointing.
Printed deep in the soil, two human footprints remained. The arch of the soles, the individual toes, even the slight dip where the pressure had shifted for the next step: all of it told of a human preparing to walk across their beloved garden.
But no human.
"They ought to be watering the begonias by now," I said, more to myself than to Guru Yummy. He knew already.
"Humans do not just vanish into thin air!"
Startled by the violence of his voice, I blinked at him. "Master, has this ever happened before?"
"No! Humans leave the traditional way! They have never vanished like this!"
"Could they have gone to a different plane?"
"Had they done so, I would still have sensed something. All humans carry magic deep within their brainy heads. It is the source of their subtle power. Yet not a sign of it."
"You're sure?"
He rounded on me. "How can you doubt my judgement at a time like this? Spirits show up wounded, humans vanish... Something unnatural is happening here."
I sighed. "Is it the war again?"
"Why do you say it like that?" His bristling settled down at once, and the years showed on his face as he next spoke. "I know there is something profoundly wrong at work here. War and fay were never meant to coexist like this, I am sure of it."
Again, I sighed. After the routing of the sky fay encampment, this kind of ill wind was blowing at a bad time. "With all due respect, Master, I doubt anything magical is involved. Perhaps you are mistaken? Perhaps the humans simply changed their schedule? You yourself told us stories of those days when they showed capriciousness."
He said nothing. Even when we left the footprints and walked home again, he said nothing.
It had to be said, though. Guru Yummy was becoming erratic and emotional in his old age. That would impinge on our war effort, perhaps even get other fay killed. For the time being, it was best to humour him and start thinking about how to work around him in time for the next assault. Once we located the main headquarters and the hiding place of the sky fay, perhaps then, finally, the war would be over.
Disappearing humans? It simply could not be true.
So I hoped.
Our search for Lady Pitter-patter began that very night.
Guru Yummy was all for it, though he hesitated when I mentioned the risks involved. Some weighing of risks to ourselves versus risks to Lady Pitter-patter must have caught on his careful mind, only to be dislodged. That cheered me up. For a moment, I'd feared he had no honour left.
The two of us ventured close to the Elder Tree's surrounding territory, my rifle at the ready. One sky fay tried to sneak up on us—possibly a scout—but one snapped twig later, and boom. She was one more body to bury.
Guru Yummy was tight-lipped with fury. We did not talk for a long time.
Only when we ventured close to the rhododendrons, incidentally close to the Elder Tree, did he hold out an arm to stop me. Patiently, he sniffed the air like a hunter.
"Humans," he said.
I refrained from saying something like "I told you so." How tempting it was, though. He hadn't been impressing me of late.
Frowning, his head turned to a seemingly random collection of stalks nearby, but I knew he had aimed due Elder Tree.
"Interesting," he said.
"Master?"
Then he became tight-lipped again. I waited for minutes, yet he said nothing more.
Deep within my concentrating mind, though, uneasy thoughts stirred. "Master, can you sense Lady Pitter-patter?"
"Not on this plane."
"What about the others?"
"Let me see... Sadly, not. My child—Feathersnuggle—I know you have accepted too much loss already. It is hard to never see your friends again. Trust me. For your own sake, and not just for the sake of your fighting skills or this war, you must prepare yourself to accept that a dear friend of yours may have disappeared forever."
The speech cut right through me. In truth, I'd been dreading this very thing. After all, dozens of our fay had disappeared in pursuit of the enemy. None had come back.
"Master," I said, more quietly than usual, "I know."
He patted my hand. Like he used to do when I was a child, when his blind face had fewer lines and hardly ever burned with the rage of time and loss. For once, I had a glimpse of why he hated violence and death so much. I was almost there seeing his younger self, listening to the cries of fallen friends, and that coldness in his heart that told him what he had to know, and yet never wanted to hear.
Unexpectedly, he tensed. He sniffed the air.
"What's this?" he whispered. Stepping forwards, he sniffed again. "The closer we get to the Elder Tree, the stronger the scent of human becomes. Impossible. The Malory family cannot traverse even normal planes. They couldn't have entered the portal to darkness!"
Chills crept down my spine as I approached him. "I sense it too, Master!"
Sweat twinkled on his forehead in the midnight shade of the rhododendrons.
"What does it mean?" I said, trying to sound respectful.
He turned to me at once. "I don't believe the humans opened the gateway from this side. Something must have either pulled them through or pushed them in. But nothing can pull through the gateway because the darkness consumes all, yet nothing can push them through because it would take a deeply corrupted mind to even think up such a plot!"
The weakness of this last claim did not go unnoticed. "The sky fay," I said at once. "What did they do?"
"A human sacrifice."
My blood froze. Stories of those crept into my mind. Old stories, told on winter nights with the tiny candles and the shadows all around. Stories of ancient elven beings who lured humans into the depths of darkness, in exchange for powers of their own. Who themselves were darkness, and consumed humans in lieu of the dark places. But that had stopped over a thousand years ago, according to Guru Yummy and his ancestors. The practice—or its practitioners—disappeared.
Before me, the branches of the rhododendrons glowed.
Red blazes scorched my eyes.
"I simply don't understand it," said Guru Yummy, scratching his head, completely oblivious thanks to his blind eyes.
Hastily, I grabbed his arm. "Master! There's a red light up ahead. The branches are burning!"
"They're what?"
"Burning!"
"Up ahead? But that is the way of the Elder Tree. Magic should not be coming out of there to strike the living plants! Unless..."
I looked up. Now even the leaves were aflame with silent fire. "Unless what?"
"Unless the sacrifice is now being rewarded."
"Rewarded with what, Master?"
Suddenly, the world around us was pure white. I followed it up to a growling shape.
On all the planes, ripples broke through. Black runes hovered like ash in the white light. Branches snapped. Leaves rained down as hard as tiles from a collapsing roof: I yanked Guru Yummy out of the path of one. Worst of all was the smell: an acid, clawing scent that tore the nose to shreds and filled the mind with the dread of living decay. I almost expected my skin to start sloughing off in chunks under that noxious toxin.
Out of the night, a leg smashed into the soil. Inches away.
I drew my rifle at once.
The leg of a tarantula, but swollen and spiked with hairs until it was the column size of a ox's limb. This spindly creeper-leg rose up to the light, beyond which—I squinted through as many planes as possible—I found the head of a monstrous ant, flexing tentacles with glee.
They sang. Ancient songs from a time before sound, rhythms crashing and flowing at once with the grace and command of a tar-slick sea. I couldn't move. Horror and morbid fascination and sheer overwhelmed confusion crept through me while the heads of ants loomed and the white light began to scorch away all other details in the world. I stared into it, beguiled...
Thank goodness for Guru Yummy. His blindness and discipline must have saved him, because he yanked me out of the spotlight and ran with me trailing behind him. Instantly, the spell broke.
"Not now!" he was shouting. "This is an omen! There are worse things yet to come!"
I said nothing. Behind us, the crashing of legs dared me to look back and scream.
The monsters, those ant-tarantula distortions of nature and reality, moved slowly enough so we could escape. Unfortunately, they moved like zombies with the inevitable patience of mindless malice. If ever we stopped to breathe, they soon caught up, having no breath of their own.
Eventually, Guru Yummy and I broke apart and fled into the grass. Screams and lights broke out in front of us. The camp fires were visible through the blades.
I went to seek higher ground. If only I could get out of range of those monsters, find a place to escape their song and tentacles. I patted my rifle reassuringly. There wouldn't even be time for payback. I would kill them for even daring to exist.
Up the embankment I went. Far below, screams. Thuds. Sreeching glee from the chthonian monsters of corrupted earth, of twisted life, those antarantulas.
Soon, I found an outcrop on which to lay low. I had higher ground. And the whole spectacle laid out below me.
Those monsters stamped through the scattered dots of my comrades: some torch-bearers were trying to carry as much of the camp fire as possible. Some had their own bioluminescence or helpful pets like fireflies to guide them in the dark. Yet they stood out to the antarantulas like dishes in a buffet. Monstrous spindly limbs stamped, walking over the nearby stream in defiance of natural law, barely rippling it, the searchlights on their monstrous heads swung back and forth, and I knew anyone unlucky enough to be caught in one would hear the eerie singing, and be entranced, and fall prey to the first antarantula that reached them.
I aimed at the heads. There was no chance I'd kill them; what doesn't live can never die. Taking out those headlights would give us the advantage, though.
And yet... and yet, I hesitated.
Yes. Skybreaker, the great war hero, hesitated.
I noticed the things were not interested in us per se. This caught me off-guard; if this was a sky fay plot, then we would inevitably have been the targets. Certainly, they took an interest in whatever lay in their path. Yet overall, there was a sense that we were just in the way. They hurried through our crowd—insofar as big galumphing beasts can hurry when we outrun them three times over—as though determined to waste as little time on us as possible. They were almost clear of the stream already.
What if there was a way to use these things? Look at what they were doing to my own camp. Imagine that terror and death visited upon my enemies. The sky fay could flee from us and be safe, but flee from what would never stop?
Perhaps the beasts had been summoned by my own side for that very purpose?
No one would have condoned it ahead of time. But now it was done, now I realized the beasts were definitely moving towards the last known location of the sky fay? Why not cheer them on?
I changed my mind when I heard the scream.
One of my own had fallen, or been crushed by something, but for whatever reason their light couldn't get out of the way in time. Searchlights landed on this. The beasts' heads leaned down like the burnt, twisted effigies of cranes. I sensed, on the edge of hearing, their siren song.
If they caught anyone... no... I wouldn't wish that on my enemies. Death, torture... those would be a picnic compared to what the antarantulas would do.
More immediate concerns for my comrade brought my rifle up again.
I fired.
The beast closest to the victim's light lost its own. On all planes, anger splashed and rippled. Other searchlights swung back and forth, trying to find me. I kept low and aimed again.
Behind me, I heard feet galloping. When I looked around, Lady Pitter-patter was in mid-leap.
My word, did it hurt. She landed right on top of me.
"NO!" she screeched. "THE KING WILL SUFFER! I HAVE WILLED IT! HOW DARE YOU STOP ME!?"
"Look what those monsters are doing!" I cried out; one of her feet pressed against my cheek, pinning my head down.
"Yes!" she shouted, and flecks of spittle rained down on me. "It is the perfect revenge! War, terror, destruction: as soon as these beasts have destroyed the sky fay, I will have ended all that!"
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. This was Lady Pitter-patter, Guardian of the Deer, our friend and ally, lover of all nature. Days ago, she'd been laughing and planning raids along with the best of us. Now she was screeching out for blood.
"But our camp's being attacked," I said.
"They will pass. You'd rather lose our friends later? To those sky-born scum?"
I saw the spotlights find us. Found them growing more intense. At once, I shut my eyes, blinding myself.
Hopelessly, I fired. Doubtless I hit nothing.
"You dare defy me," Lady Pitter-patter hissed. "I will stop you too."
I swung the rifle hard.
It was pure survival instinct. I never wanted to hurt my friend, but something ancient and desperate had other ideas.
While she staggered and cursed, I threw her off and ran for it. There was no way she could genuinely control those beasts. Antarantulas were creatures of darkness. Compelled though they were by the terrible magic of human sacrifice, loyalty and mercy meant nothing to them.
I wish I could have saved her. In fact, I turned around to call her back. She refused.
When they caught up with her...
I won't tell you a thing. To say it gives me nightmares would be to trivialize it.
I fled.
Dawn found me at the rocky lands to the west, where the orderly garden gave way to hills that could have broken off to become their own worlds, so immense was their size. This was a land of harshness.
Throughout the night, I'd been sniping at the antarantulas. Taking out their searchlights, it transpired, just made them berserk. They lost all sense of direction, grabbing anything in their path with monstrous tentacles. It was all I could do to block out the screams.
Realizing how futile it was to fight pure destruction, I left to find Guru Yummy. He'd left no trace, search though I did. By now, I was starting to fear the worst. I fell into despair. Guru Yummy was a nuisance at times, but he'd been part of my memories since childhood. He'd known what to do, or at least had been certain all his life. To lose him now, when we were at our weakest... When I was...
A shape appeared on the horizon. I squinted.
Ah, it was my old friend the fox spirit. Looking better than before, bounding across the slope of the hill to reach me. I heard the thundering from here. And he had a passenger.
I squinted harder.
As the spirit drew up, I raised my rifle.
The sky fay on his back held up his hands and waved a white cloth. "Don't attack! I have come for aid."
I kept my rifle on him. No one had used the white cloth since olden times, according to Guru Yummy. Seeking aid from the enemy?
Then I recognized him: The King of the Sky Fay. He lowered his cloth and hopped down. At once, I re-aimed my rifle.
He stared at me for a long while. Then, patiently, he drew back his cloak and picked up his sheathed sword, scabbard and all. He dropped it at his feet, obviously and theatrically. Then he unslung his bow-and-arrows and dropped those next to it too.
Lastly, he patted the spirit's leg. "Do you believe our friend here would have let me ride on his back, had I possessed any malice towards you? Relax. I am unarmed. This sword is my gift to you, if you like. My forefathers infused it with powerful magic granted them by the spirits so that it may vanquish the taint of evil."
I kept my rifle aimed at him. This could still be a trick. And yet... Guru Yummy spoke of the same ancient magic. Only our highest-ranking swordmasters used it.
"My forces are scattered and refuse to return," he said. "The bombing raid you thwarted was our big hope to claim victory. You not only stopped us, but routed our camp and gave me the shock of my life. As one warrior to another, I commend you for you skill and bravery, Skybreaker of the Metal Fay."
"What do you want?" I said between gritted teeth. He'd drawn his sword against Lady Pitter-patter. He must have driven her to do this...
"I want to end this war. I am tired, and so are my subjects. I remember my father telling me when the metal fay used to be the earth fay. Likewise, we sky spirits used to be humble spirits of wind. We did not set our sights as high as the entire celestial sphere back then. We kept to our own element."
"And you think you can say anything to me now and—?"
"I am willing to seek help from a more neutral source. To do that, we'll need to travel to another plane of existence, one that hasn't been visited in over a thousand years. I had originally planned to venture to the source of our evil, through the Elder Tree and into the heart of darkness."
"You must be crazy."
"Yes, I was. Never enter the dark portal. It consumes all. I was taught that by my father too. So instead, I reasoned there must be a gateway to Avalon itself. There, perhaps, we will find holy beings. Peace."
I glanced at the fox spirit. It seemed remarkably relaxed in his presence.
For a moment, pain winced on the king's face. "Yes, this poor creature was my victim. The bombing raid failed; I searched for survivors. I found none. Several of my friends perished that day. My old friend here came to comfort me, but darkness claimed my heart in a moment of weakness. In frustration, I drew my bow-and-arrow on him. I... deeply regret that now. The poor trusting beast sensed my evil too late."
He looked down at his feet. Briefly, I imagined him as a young boy, listening to stories on his father's knee. The sheer size of his robes and wings made his head look awfully small.
"That was when I resolved once and for all to end this war, but not by giving in to the darkness. Instead, we must look to the light."
He extended a hand.
"There is no love lost between us, Skybreaker. I have caused you pain and grief too. But... for the good of peace, I would like you to join me on this quest."
I stared at him. A peace offering? From the murderer of my friends and family?
My trigger finger itched.
Then I looked up at the fox spirit's face. At his pure, burning eyes. Even now, I saw the purple mist of corruption stuck on him like tar on a once-magnificent bird. The sight disgusted me.
Thinking I could prepare for any backstabbing, just in case, I shook the king's hand.
He beamed at me.
Then, from our hands, colours grew. Lights danced over the rock below. The rainbow rose from this moment towards the clouds overhead. As I watched, all the colours reflected in my heart the higher emotions we'd once felt: laughter, and joy, and excitement, and sheer indulgent pleasures. Memories of a bygone age, waiting to come back.
I felt it in my very bones.
The king withdrew, beaming at me while I took up his sword and bow. "A glimpse of what once was, and of what may yet return to us. This rainbow is a portal of light. It will take you to Avalon's castle. Legend tells that the Queen of the Fay dwells within. Seek help from her. She may end this war."
I knew the legends from Guru Yummy. According to legend, King Arthur himself gave the Queen this castle as a gesture of goodwill. Then later, for no apparent reason, he had tried to conquer it back. Her magic had repelled him, and ever since the place had been a sanctuary for those fay lucky enough to find it, seeking refuge from the world below.
I remembered Lady Pitter-patter's scream. Consumed by darkness. And I saw the young boy in the king's face.
I stepped forwards.
Gently, very gently, I was lifted up into the sky. I closed my eyes for most of it. One thing they won't tell you about Skybreaker, Bane of Airships, is that she's a little afraid of heights.
And there was the castle in the sky.
I sensed I had stopped flying and opened my eyes. The castle was impossible; it weighed upon the eyes, but the clouds underneath were so insubstantial I expected them to disintegrate at any minute. Instead, I held my breath, tried not to think of those thoughts, and went inside, across the drawbridge, towards the main hall.
Something was wrong. The moment I stepped inside, everything seemed... darker than it should have been. Shadows moved contrary to the light, at random, out of synch. Chains and metal things were everywhere. I couldn't even begin to describe what half of them were designed to do, but it was like being surrounded by knives, gears, and corrugated iron sheets.
The Queen of the Fay lived here?
Something wasn't right. I sensed the same malicious presence from before. This was like approaching the chilly greyness of the Elder Tree...
...which appeared before me, ghostly, for an instant...
I sensed something behind me and swung my sword.
It broke.
The Queen of the Fay stepped out of the shadows. Or rather, the shadows stepped out of her. I heard the same eldritch song of the antarantulas, senses melting away. I was being dumbfounded and beguiled...
I fought back, raised bow-and-arrow. Queen or not, I sensed danger. Perhaps this was a fake—
She waved a hand irritably. "You dare offend ME!?"
The bow turned to dust in my hands. I yelped as her searchlight's curse pinned me where I stood. Now I sensed the darkness radiating off her. Runes appeared and disappeared at random in midair.
"First King Arthur, and now you," said the Queen witheringly. "Vicious, unprovoked monsters."
Her mind bled into mine. For a moment, I felt her anger, her betrayal, her rage, her spite, her envy of King Arthur, of all that was good and holy in the world, how it had let her down again and again, how that bastard Merlin had told her, HER, she would become too dark with her witchcraft. Told her she would fall into darkness. Told her she would not be bound to the heart of darkness, but would BE the heart of darkness. I sensed her resentment, her greed, her pride bruised and bleeding.
"I will escape this infernal castle," she said. "Now the portal of darkness is opened. You see, I needed hearts to corrupt. I'd been working on the fay for centuries, spinning them into an endless war, until finally the perfect fool came along. The king was a disappointment, but Lady Pitter-patter was so eager to avenge her miserable friends, wasn't she?"
"You've been doing this to us! You cursed us!" I tried to reach for my rifle. Useless. I might as well have tried flying.
"And now you come to finish me off? Has not Queen Morgana of the Fay suffered enough humiliation!? Felt enough pain!? Endured enough TERROR!?"
She threw me back, screeching as she did so. Metal smacked my spine. I felt blood trickle. Fires of pain broke out all over me. I barely had enough consciousness to see her advance, see her sprout tentacles, summon ghostly antarantulas...
Urgently, I reached for my rifle.
And that was when I realized.
I hesitated.
Then I lowered my questing hand.
"I did not come here to kill you." I spoke loudly, confidently, fighting to stand upright and to keep my mind clear of darkness. No revenge. No bloodlust. No anger. I took several deep breaths.
"LIAR!"
"I want peace, not destruction. I'm tired too."
"THEN HAVE YOUR ETERNAL REST!" Her tentacles shot forwards.
I closed my eyes. There was no peace here. It had been foolish to seek peace from without. I don't think I had that idea in my head exactly. I wasn't thinking. Understanding just seeped in. Like I knew it all along.
I found peace within. To change the world is folly. To change yourself is your only hope.
I told Guru Yummy that when I met him again later. He liked the sound of it. Said he'd borrow it.
When I opened my eyes, her tentacles went right through me. She was as insubstantial as shadow. Her antarantulas disintegrated under the light.
"Impossible!" She slashed and slashed and slashed, darkening every time until she was but a black shape. "I took your family! I desecrated your spirits! Broke the deer guardian's mind! I sense your pain!"
My inner child sighed. Darkness implodes, consuming itself. But the light reaches out and touches those blessed to receive it.
Morgana's cries of rage and fear followed me as I stepped out of the castle, out of the realm, down the rainbow, and back to the waiting king. I'd never felt so light inside. So... cleansed.
He fell to his knees. "Your wings... Such rainbow beauty... Just like the legends of the olden fay..."
I reached out to touch the fox spirit's nuzzling snout. The purple on the fur retreated, revealing brilliant gold. I smiled at him.
Sunshine. Humanity. Kindness, songs, rainbows and flowers. They could all come back.
I had found peace. The secret. Enlightenment. My mission: to spread it, to heal, to revive the world of the fay.
I, Feathersnuggle, stepped forth, leaving sunflowers sprouting in my wake. Sunlight shone down. I gaped as a child.
They say there's a line between darkness and light. There isn't. Between those two extremes lie the encouraging slopes of grey. And when the light changes so slowly that you can't even see it, sooner or later even the purest day is just another inch to the right...
Pics
Okay, fairies at war was the last thing I expected from this round, but I found it rather enjoyable, despite being a bit cliche. I caught only one typo, if I recall correctly, and I think the "My mission was simple: blow the mothership." lacks a rather critical "up" somewhere, but overall the writing was solid.
I read this because my curiosity remains piqued from some of the art. I'm glad I did. This is just plain fun as an adventure in fae, and as a literary walk through of its various source art pieces. I fear that it might lose some cohesiveness without being able to look back at those. But together it makes for an enjoyable experience.
This gets a little fast and muddled for me around the time our hero gets to the castle in the sky. Also, I think its attempts to invoke Cthulhu-esque horror aren't quite landing... like the cut-away from somebody's Death By Giant Ant doesn't strike me as "unseeable horror" as much as it does "big squish." But those things don't blunt the story's enjoyabity much.
This gets a little fast and muddled for me around the time our hero gets to the castle in the sky. Also, I think its attempts to invoke Cthulhu-esque horror aren't quite landing... like the cut-away from somebody's Death By Giant Ant doesn't strike me as "unseeable horror" as much as it does "big squish." But those things don't blunt the story's enjoyabity much.
I feel like standing up and applauding all the creativity that's been poured into this story, but at the same time, I don't think it'll do so well on my slate.
It's probably just my opinion, but the fact that this many of the art pieces have been put into one story hurts my enjoyment of it all. It's quite distracting. I get the impression that referencing as many of the art pieces as possible was the number one priority here, with telling a story coming in second place. It's a close second, sure—this is still a pretty good story—but what would it have been if some of the references were trimmed? If some of the ideas were expanded on more than they were in the space allotted?
Because there's a ton of ideas in this story, and a lot of them are great, but none of them felt very fleshed out, because each time I was getting into one it was time to move the plot towards the next artwork. And that leaves me with a lot of unanswered questions. What happened to Lady Pitter-patter (let's get at 'er)? What exactly is her relationship to the protagonist? Why are the disappearing humans so important to these faeries? What's the significance in them being Metal and Sky Faeries?
Artwork aside, one more criticism I have is that the tone doesn't feel right. I was certain this was going to be played for laughs the whole way through because of the premise, especially coupled with the characters names. Hell, the beginning seems like it wants to be funny in several places. Like with this:
That shit's hilarious.
But then the rest of the story takes itself so seriously. I'm thrown for a loop, and every so often I see "Guru Yummy" or "Captain Feathersnuggle" again, and I snicker. So why choose those names if the story is going to be about moral grey areas and the horrors of war?
But whatever to all that. I'm still impressed with what you've accomplished here, and it was certainly a fun ride. I just expect that I'll enjoy entries with better focus a bit more. Good luck, you!
It's probably just my opinion, but the fact that this many of the art pieces have been put into one story hurts my enjoyment of it all. It's quite distracting. I get the impression that referencing as many of the art pieces as possible was the number one priority here, with telling a story coming in second place. It's a close second, sure—this is still a pretty good story—but what would it have been if some of the references were trimmed? If some of the ideas were expanded on more than they were in the space allotted?
Because there's a ton of ideas in this story, and a lot of them are great, but none of them felt very fleshed out, because each time I was getting into one it was time to move the plot towards the next artwork. And that leaves me with a lot of unanswered questions. What happened to Lady Pitter-patter (let's get at 'er)? What exactly is her relationship to the protagonist? Why are the disappearing humans so important to these faeries? What's the significance in them being Metal and Sky Faeries?
Artwork aside, one more criticism I have is that the tone doesn't feel right. I was certain this was going to be played for laughs the whole way through because of the premise, especially coupled with the characters names. Hell, the beginning seems like it wants to be funny in several places. Like with this:
My mission was simple: blow (up) the mothership.
That shit's hilarious.
But then the rest of the story takes itself so seriously. I'm thrown for a loop, and every so often I see "Guru Yummy" or "Captain Feathersnuggle" again, and I snicker. So why choose those names if the story is going to be about moral grey areas and the horrors of war?
But whatever to all that. I'm still impressed with what you've accomplished here, and it was certainly a fun ride. I just expect that I'll enjoy entries with better focus a bit more. Good luck, you!
I... have a soft spot for cliches.
I personally think the story melded well together and the ending didn’t feel rushed like I expected.
All in all, well done. ;)
I personally think the story melded well together and the ending didn’t feel rushed like I expected.
All in all, well done. ;)
Parts of this held a good sort of cheesy familiarity, and I'm always glad to see first person. There was a lot of good action and fun in this.
