Sprite
Chapter 84

In the big kitchen Avery pounded on the table, his eyes blazing furiously. “I told you this would happen!” he shouted at Jim. “You should have listened to me!”

Jim leaned forward and shouted back, “You did this! It’s your fault!”

Miriam tried futilely to calm the two down, but neither one paid any attention to her. Norah, dressed in a pair of her old trousers with a cotton shirt untucked over the top, and the jacket slung carelessly over her shoulders, stopped in the doorway. She really didn’t need this right now. Breyan had gone ahead to meet Neistah, leaving her to deal with her grandfather. “Enough,” she said, not shouting it, but speaking very firmly. Surprisingly, all three of them turned to look at her. “Daddy, Grandfather is here to help. This is not the time to cast blame. Talk to him. He knows these hunters who are coming; he knows what to expect. There may still be a chance we can turn this around.”

Jim scowled. “It’s too late. They’re coming to wipe us out, Norah. It’s us or them now. And I don’t trust your grandfather not to just let them do it. That would solve his problems once and for all, wouldn’t it?

Avery glared at him. “You’re talking about me murdering my family!” he seethed. “My daughter! My grandchildren!”

“You kidnapped your own grandson!” Miriam spoke up, her temper finally catching up to her. “You wouldn’t even look at Norah once you found out she was a—“ Miriam cut off, uncertain of how much to reveal to her father.

“I did not kidnap Adam!” Avery snapped. “I took him for his own protection, and to draw out her . . . her kind!” He pointed at Norah, who calmly leaned against the doorjamb, looking mostly human in her ordinary clothes, if one overlooked the delicate webbing which sprouted out behind her ears, or the ones between her fingers, which rested on her folded arms. “In any case, he came back, didn’t he?” Avery did not mention how that had come about, or what had happened to him during that brazen rescue.

“And what about Norah?” Miriam persisted.

Avery frowned at Norah. “She’s my grandchild too,” he muttered under his breath. “I wouldn’t have let them kill her.”

Jim snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Enough,” Norah repeated, coming forward to sit at the table. “This does not get us anywhere.”

“Let me talk to them,” Avery said suddenly. “When the hunters come, let me be the one to negotiate. I can stop the killing. I’m sure of it. They’re mostly my men. They’ll listen to me.”

“If they get that far,” Jim said. “We can stop them before they get inside the fence.”

“No.” Norah slid her hand across the table to her father. “Let’s let Grandfather try. I don’t want bloodshed if we can help it. I’ll go with him. Have we received word yet on where the hunters will come through?”

Jim nodded grudgingly. “I’m sending Neistah there now. He says Pup is tracking them. They’re heading for the south gate. But Norah, I don’t think you should go. I’ll take your advice and send Avery with them if you really think it will help, but you should stay here until it’s over.”

Norah shook her head. “No, this is my responsibility. Grandfather is my responsibility too. I’ll make sure he does what he says.” The look she flashed Avery was mild, but he flinched anyway, making Norah smile grimly. Avery was afraid of her.

One of the scouts Jim had sent out knocked tentatively on the open door. “Sir? We’ve had word from Adam’s group. Quite a few people are massing at the northern border. It looks like they’re from the farming communities outside Datro.”

“What are they doing? Are they threatening us?” Jim started pacing. This might be trouble. If they were invaded on two fronts at once . . .

“No, that’s the thing,” the scout said. “Adam knows these farmers. He said they’ve come to help.”

“Good.” Neistah glided into the kitchen, followed by Breyan. He tossed something shiny at Norah, who caught it and smiled when she recognized her faerie gown. “We settled Pup’s changelings—the new ones—in the back with Earl’s people. They’ll be watched, but I don’t think they’ll give you any trouble. We’re taking the possible troublemakers with us.” He looked at Norah. “Are you ready to go?”

Jim sighed. “She’s your daughter, too,” he complained. “Don’t you think she’d be safer left behind?”

Neistah grinned, showing off his sharp teeth. “She is my daughter,” he agreed. “She’s also the Lady of this land and I will defer to her wishes. So should you all.” His eyes sought and found Avery’s, who blanched.

“Norah?” Miriam looked questioningly at her eldest daughter.

“Norah,” Neistah affirmed.

Norah blushed as all eyes turned on her, but she squared her shoulders and pushed back from the table. “Then let’s go.” If she really was the Lady, then she would take advantage of it.

Anais was dead? Norah’s head whirled as she ran after Neistah and the others. The callousness of the sprites surprised her, although perhaps it shouldn’t have. They lived for the moment, all of them. Even this life and death situation for her family on earth was something of a game to them, one which they could choose to abandon at any time. She couldn’t fault them for it, not really. They were not a part of this world, not like she was, not like little Andy.

Breyan squeezed her hand as he ran behind her. He had not let go since they left the house. He knew her thoughts. Norah wasn’t good enough to hide them completely. -We don’t die,- he sent, carefully shielding his own thoughts. In Norah’s case, that was still up for debate since she was half-human.

-Fade away, whatever you call it,- Norah sent back, annoyed by the game of semantics, another thing sprites were good at and she wasn’t. Breyan hid a smile.

Norah decided to keep wearing the shirt and pants she had donned that morning to better protect her skin from scratches that might prove unfortunate. Breyan and Neistah had no such covering, although their skin seemed immune to the smaller scratches anyway. Neistah had stuffed the gown in a pack and handed it to Breyan for safekeeping. He carried it now slung over his shoulder as he ran through the woods.

X x X x X x X x X x X

Pup let himself get caught. It was a technique the Sprites had been using for years—pretend to be captured and then wreak havoc on the ranks of the hunters from the inside. It was dangerous, but also highly successful. The Sprites freed a lot of mutants that way.

This time, there were no captured mutants to set free, but Pup had spotted one of his former scouts and through hand signals determined that a group of Jim’s men were on a course to intercept these hunters. Pup was trying to delay that confrontation.

“What have we here?” One of the seasoned hunters at the end of the line grabbed Pup by the scruff of his neck and hauled him out of the bushes. Pup hung limp, hoping they would take it to mean he was harmless. His weapons lay in well-concealed sheaths along his thighs. These hunters picked right up on it and shook him, immediately suspicious. Inwardly, Pup sighed. These hunters must have run across some of his changeling Sprites before. They would not be easy to fool.

He caught the eye of the Sprite who watched, hidden, from the branches of a tree, and shook his head slightly. He would handle this. With a quick nod, the Sprite disappeared, moving off, no doubt, to inform Jim’s men of his capture. With any luck, Pup would have the situation under control before the two forces met.

The hunters ruthlessly stripped him of his knives and forced his arms behind him, binding him with iron, Pup noted wryly. Unfortunately, although it did not sicken him, the chain they used to hold him was stronger than rope and had the same end effect: Pup could not get free. So he would have to trick them into letting him go. Neistah had taught him well. Pup could do this.

Pup rolled into a ball to protect himself from their kicks and whimpered, making it almost into a whine. His tail was clearly visible, and he grunted in satisfaction as the hunters backed off. Sometimes a mutation was useful as a distraction. “He’s a dog,” a hunter muttered. “Are you sure he’s one of them Sprites?”

“He ain’t human,” another one said. “Maybe he’s one of the ones Atwater set out in the forest. What’s he doing out here by himself? Hey, kid.” The hunter poked Pup in the side with his foot. “Where’s your friends?”

The hunters were uneasy. They cast wary glances towards the dense forest on either side of them. “Go get Marks,” the first one said, and another hunter trotted towards the front of the line, which had continued moving. Good. Hopefully this would get them to stop.

A few minutes later a horse and rider clattered to a stop. It was the weary leader from the front of the line. He leaned down from his horse and regarded Pup. “Is it a Sprite?” he asked.

“He don’t look like one. I think he’s just a mutant.”

The leader, Marks, slid down from his horse and put his hand under Pup’s chin to draw his gaze. “Is that true? What’s your name, son?”

Pup cringed, all part of his act. “Pup,” he whispered, and the hunters surrounding him laughed. Marks glared at them.

“Get up.” Marks waited while two of the hunters hauled Pup to his feet, still bound by the heavy chains. “What are you doing out here by yourself? Are you spying on us?”

“No!” Pup sounded horrified. “I—I was—running away. I got lost. I---let me go. I won’t tell anybody.” He laughed almost hysterically. “Who would I tell? There’s nobody out here but me . . .”

“We can’t let you go,” Marks said. He murmured instructions to a few of his men, who immediately moved off into the trees. Apparently, the leader did not trust Pup’s word that he was all alone. It did not matter—the scouts would not find anything. Pup truly was alone, now that the Sprite he’d been in silent contact with had left.

Marks ordered the hunters who had caught Pup to guard him, dismissing their vocal complaints that it would be easier to just kill the mutant rather than drag him along with them. “No,” Marks said bluntly. “He goes with us. And take those chains off him. He can hardly move in them.”

The hunters sullenly removed the chains, replacing them with lighter ropes so that Pup could walk. Slowly, the line of soldiers began moving once again, Pup with them at the end of the line with the dangerous hunters. It was just where he wanted to be.

X x X x X x X x X x X x X

Norah’s eyes widened apprehensively as the changeling Sprite reported Pup’s plan. “What was he thinking? We have to stop him!”

They had reached the south gate at the same time as the scout. Tom, Andy’s father and a former hunter, met them with the grim news. “I know these men,” he said shortly as the scout described the heavy-set hunter who had captured Pup. “They will kill him.”

“No!”

If not for Breyan’s quick hand on her shoulder, Norah would have run out the gate and towards the approaching soldiers—and Pup. -Trust in him,- he sent softly. -Pup knows what he is doing.-

If it had been anyone else who had suggested it, even Neistah, Norah would have balked. But she listened to Breyan. She turned towards her grandfather. “You said these are your hunters. Please stop them before they hurt Pup.” Or anyone else.

Nodding grimly, Avery spurred his horse forward past the open gate. Neistah followed on foot. So did Breyan and Norah. They would allow Avery to take the lead on this. The other men who had accompanied them lined up by the gate. They would act as the final defense. If Avery and the sprites could not stop this army, then it would be up to them to protect Hanan lands and the people they held.

Out of sight of the gate, Avery wheeled his horse around. “Are you sure you want to come?” he asked, his eyes blazing angrily. “You are the ones these hunters are after—not those other mutants who pretend to be what you are. You’re putting yourselves in danger needlessly.”

“Oh?” Neistah raised his eyebrows. “And just what do you say we are, human?” he mocked. “We can take care of ourselves. It is up to Norah to decide the fate of this land, not them, not you,” he added.

Norah, in her long-sleeved shirt and sturdy pants, with her flowing, blood-red hair tied in a neat braid down her back, did not look as if she held the fates of two lands in her hands. She had no idea what she was going to do if Avery was unable to convince these hunters not to attack the Hanan compound. Breyan squeezed her hand, sending her encouragement.

Avery backed down immediately, disguising his shudder at Neistah’s words with a curt, “Suit yourselves.” He turned his horse around and rode swiftly down the well-marked path, hoping to put a little distance between himself and the admittedly non-human sprites. Neistah grinned, and sprinted off after him, undaunted, leaving Breyan and Norah to follow at a more leisurely pace.

X x X x X x X x X x X x X

Pup trudged along between two burly hunters who looked as if they would rather be anywhere else than next to a mutant. They had not been gentle with him, but they had not beaten him, either. As they walked, Pup determinedly worked at the knots that bound his wrists behind his back, loosening them by sliding a tiny knife he had palmed before they captured him. He had counted on them not looking at him too closely once they discovered his more obvious weapons. Hunters were vicious mainly because, deep down, they were afraid of mutants. The most vicious ones were hunters whose own offspring had turned out to be mutants. It was as if, by persecuting them, the hunters could redeem their own human-ness. The guilt must have been terrible.

“Are you from Datro?” he asked, striking up a conversation. One of the hunters gave him a disgusted look and didn’t bother answering. “I’m from Datro, originally,” Pup continued, as if the man had actually answered him. “But I don’t remember much about it. I don’t remember my mother or father.”

That earned him a glance from the hunter, although the man still didn’t say anything. It was the truth, as far as Pup could remember. He had been very young when he and a group of other mutants had tried to escape from Datro. Neistah had found them. Neistah was the closest thing to a parent that Pup had ever had. For all Pup knew, one of these very hunters might have been his father. From the uneasy emotions flitting across their faces, the thought had occurred to them, too.

Pup sawed through one knot, and the others unraveled slowly. He slid the tiny knife underneath the remaining knots, knowing with a few sharp tugs his hands would be free. But he was not quite ready yet.

“How do you know I’m not a Sprite?” Pup breathed softly, and the two hunters on either side of him ground to a superstitious halt. They were at the very end of the line of soldiers, probably to keep the other soldiers from seeing their lack of discipline. Besides the two who had drawn the duty of guarding Pup, a total of five other hardened hunters marched sloppily along, guns slung across their backs as they warily watched the woods for signs that Pup had not been alone. “How do you know you’re not surrounded by Sprites at this very moment?” He kept his voice low and conversational so just the two hunters next to him could hear. Their faces paled with superstitious dread.

With a flourish, Pup brought his two hands, now unbound, in front of him. “You have no idea of what I can do,” he said with a smirk. “Run, while you can.” With a last laugh, and before the other five hunters could catch on to what he was doing, Pup leapt for the nearest hunter, snatching his long knife from his belt, and leaping for the trees. Years of practice had made him an expert at this. He scaled a tree and disappeared among its leafy branches before the first hunter had a chance to bring his gun to bear. The sound of shots being fired up into the trees brought the entire army to a confused halt, but Pup was long gone, moving steadily forward through the uppermost branches that would support his weight, towards the front of the line, not away. That was twice he’d stopped their march now. That, and the superstitious fear he’d planted among the older hunters, would give Jim’s men enough time to get into place and stop this army before it got to Hanan’s gate. Pup grinned exuberantly. That had been fun!

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