Battle with the Fairies (3rd month of Autumn, 2nd day, 3rd hour, night)

  The moon had climbed higher, shortening the shadows. Aya moved through the chaos of stone structures to sound of her own footsteps. The exit was nowhere in sight, and her frustration mounted. She considered scaling the walls but preferred to find her way on foot. The fairy trailed behind her, seemingly content.

  Suddenly, Ixi darted to the side, disappearing into a low building. Aya hesitated, then followed, stepping cautiously through the doorway. The air inside was dusty and stale, tinged with the smell of mold. She conjured a small magical light, its silvery glow stretching long shadows across the narrow room. A row of gravestones, worn and weathered, lined the wall. It was a family crypt. Ixi perched atop one of the stones, watching Aya intently.

  "Is this your home?" Aya asked.

  Ixi made no reply, only stared.

  "Stay if you want."

  Aya left the crypt and looked around. If this was a family crypt, then the round building across from it once had been an ancestors' chapel. And the stone slab to the right was a Dark Gods' altar. Now it all became clear. The complex was an ancient necropolis, once belonging to a wealthy house. Such places were built in a certain pattern. There should be a single exit, facing north. Had she missed it earlier? She retraced her steps, took a different turn — and there it was, just around the corner.

  Stepping through the gate, she was greeted by the cold, silent night. The moonlight bathed the plains, turning their sickly hues to noble silver and black. A six-foot wall surrounded the necropolis. It had never been meant for defense, only to shield the dead from the curious eyes of the living, but the ancient masons had done a solid job. Though time had eroded its edges, much of it still stood firm. She turned left and followed the wall.

  As she rounded a corner, she finally saw the aftermath of the battle. Elves and mares lay scattered across the ground. Beneath this wall, House Mink had made its last stand. She recognized a breach above the waterway — her escape path from the battle. A pang of guilt struck her at the thought. Yet what could a single wounded girl have changed? Absolutely nothing.

  She noticed movement among the bodies. A dozen or so grave fairies feasted on the remains. The sight didn't shock her — she had seen it before. Aya approached cautiously, hoping they would scatter as they usually did. The fairies paused, watching her movements, their eyes glinting. She noticed their small noses twitching. Had they caught the scent of her blood?

  Aya knew her limits. She could conjure three, maybe four solid sparks before exhaustion set in. If all of them attacked together, she would have to rely on her sword. Still hoping to intimidate, she strode forward. A fairy in her path made a small jump and hissed, showing its teeth and talons. Aya stopped. The others silently watched.

  So far, intimidation hadn't worked, but she decided to press on. She raised her hand and sent a spark at the hisser. It wasn't strong — more a warning than a strike — but enough to inflict pain. The fairy yelped and leapt back. The others reacted with hissing and movement. She heard the soft rustle of wings as several fairies took off. Trying to look menacing, she turned slowly in place, staring the creatures down. The fairies seemed unimpressed, gradually forming a rustling, airborne circle around her.

  She sensed movement and spun left. A fairy lunged at her leg, teeth bared. A surge of fear made her unleash a full-strength spark. The purple flash slammed into the creature, leaving it convulsing on the ground. Sensing another threat, Aya spun, drawing her sword and slashing. The fairy managed to move away — the blade cut only air. Despite the near miss, the creature didn't retreat far.

  Aya's swordsmanship was mediocre at best. She had taken only basic training. A real warrior would have cut them down easily. But Aya lacked skill, and her sword lacked reach. It was little more than a sidearm — a spellcaster's last-resort weapon. The fairies seemed to sense her weakness, hovering just outside her range.

  She pivoted the other way and caught another fairy mid-lunge. A spark to its face brought it down, convulsing. Two dead now. An evil glee filled her. Killing felt good.

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  "Come on, little ones. Who's next?" she taunted, pointing her sword at them.

  Her movements grew smoother, more fluid. She advanced with each step, pushing the fairies back. The ring around her widened. They hissed and darted, unsure what to do. The problem was — Aya didn't know either. She had a few sparks left — then what? She needed at least an hour to replenish her magic reserves. She considered retreating to the crypt, perhaps holding out there until daylight. Do grave fairies fear the daylight?

  Amidst her pondering, a piercing shriek shattered the night, its unnatural tone reverberating in the air. All turned toward the sound. A single grave fairy rose from the ruins, its silhouette stark against the moon. It hovered, then dove toward the fight. Aya tensed, ready to strike — but the newcomer whooshed past her, shrieking again as it crashed into a knot of fairies. The panic ensued, fairies scattering in all directions. Soon, all were gone, except one. The newcomer circled Aya protectively, hissing at the fading shadows.

  "Is it you?" Aya asked.

  The fairy faced her. It looked exactly like the others — except for the worried look on its face. Aya extended her hand. After a heartbeat's hesitation, the fairy flew forward and grabbed her palm with both hands. Instantly Aya felt the touch of its core, and recognized it.

  "You came to save me. Good girl."

  The fairy looked extremely pleased, whether from her praise or something else, Aya couldn't tell.

  "Do you understand speech?" Aya touched her chest. "Aya," she said, then pointed to the fairy. "Ixi."

  Wide-eyed, Ixi watched her like a puppy eager to understand its master.

  "Come on, Ixi. Let's find supplies."

  Her gaze shifted to the bodies. Over thirty corpses lay strewn across the field — fallen warriors and servants of House Mink. Not everyone was here. Some must have fled or been captured. Her gaze stopped on Master Mink. He lay on his back, staring lifelessly at the sky. The moonlight made his face look ethereal and fragile. His dispassionate expression only added to his regal beauty, as if in death he ascended to new transcendent heights.

  He had been a good master, came the thought. He had been a rather stern and unlikable elf, came another. That second thought was absurd, of course. He had been firm and decisive — traits necessary to lead. How else would the house have survived? But the house hadn't survived — came yet another. But, but, but. The emotions twisted inside her, too tangled to sort. She had never felt so conflicted in her life. It must be the shock and blood loss, she told herself.

  In any case, this wasn't the time for reflection. Her situation was dire. She was now officially free from service to House Mink. According to the customs of the plains, this made her a masterless slave. Any warband could now claim her as property. Up until now, she had been a servant — a status just a notch above slavery — but that no longer mattered. All that mattered were her skills and her looks. Were she a skilled battlemage, she could negotiate a place in a warband. Were she a lush beauty, she would be taken as a concubine. With her current unskilled, scrawny self, she would be made a slave — a battle slave, most likely, given the recent escalation of violence.

  Aya knelt beside Master Mink. His valuables were already stripped. His sword and amulets were gone. On his person she found only a white handkerchief embroidered with the family crest. She pocketed it, just in case, and moved on. She scavenged for supplies and found some rations and several flasks of water. Purified water was hard to come by, so she packed two large flasks and drank from the third.

  As she continued scavenging, her eyes landed on the body of Eyna, a junior cook. She had died fighting by her master's side with a dagger in hand — who would have guessed such a fate? A silver pendant hung from her neck. Struck by a sudden thought, Aya removed it. She glanced around, searching for Ixi, who had been buzzing about, sniffing and poking.

  "What in the hells? Don't eat that — stop!" Aya exclaimed, spotting a swaying crown of black hair. Ixi gave her a questioning look, her face resembling that of a child who had just dug into a redberry pie. Aya stepped forward and scooped the fairy up. Ixi adopted a worried look but didn't resist. Aya sat down, placing Ixi on her lap, and began cleaning her face with water and Mink's handkerchief. The fairy squirmed but made no attempt to bite or escape. When she was clean, Aya slipped the pendant around her neck. Ixi blinked in surprise.

  "It's so I can tell you apart from other little monsters," Aya said.

  Ixi tugged at the black cord, confused by the unfamiliar object. Aya placed a hand over the pendant and chanelled a small thread of magic. Ixi's eyes glazed as she absorbed the energy, and her hands relaxed.

  It was time to leave. Aya packed the supplies into a servant's backpack and turned to the open plain. She decided to head north, toward the free city of Tarkei. The city was governed by a council, and its inhabitants were no one's property. She could become a free laborer, or join the city watch as a junior mage. Admittedly, her idea of a city life was vague, but it was her best chance of avoiding slavery.

  She had to travel by night. Daytime was too dangerous — if seen in the open, she'd be easy prey for mounted patrols. By nights she was almost invisible in her dark clothes.

  Aya cast one last glance at the carnage, her gaze lingering on Master Mink's body. His face no longer looked regal. An ugly gash in his cheek had reduced him to just another corpse among many. Aya turned and set off, her steps soft and bouncy. Ixi circled above, following her into the night.