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Fairy
Tears
by
Jane
Carver
Beyond man’s vision in Real
World laid Other World, home to immortals. Or at least, it used to be before
insanity claimed every dragon in Other World.
Now the winged creatures
threatened the existence of those who lived forever—under normal circumstances.
Normal being peace and quiet with few squabbles.
Three months before, when life
had been normal, a young dragon drank from the Lake of Lichet as he had done
every week. A dragon’s life cycle depended on the healing waters of the lake.
Instead of being revitalized, the youngster grew irrational within a week then
began a reign of terror over the nearest villages. Soon, every dragon on the
planet showed the same signs of madness. Elves, were-folk, fairies, vampires,
and unicorns—residents of Other World—watched the skies for the ominous sight of
flapping wings and hid from killing dragon’s breath.
No one knew how to cure the
beasts, once revered as rulers and kings with unicorn advisors. Dragons now
terrorized the countryside. If a treatment weren’t found soon, there wouldn’t be
much left of Other World.
* * * *
“Bowstanth?” Tilla, the fairy,
circled the burned-out structures, her cough slowing her for a moment. Her wings
flapped twice as hard in air thick with soot. Smoke still rose from homes the
dragon, Encid, had set on fire. “Bowstanth Beech, answer me.” More scared than
mad, Tilla lighted on a piece of board only to lift off immediately, the heat
too much for her tiny feet. Agitated, she flew higher into the night sky to get
a better idea of how much of the village remained.
She had found her vampire
friend’s house in cinders, his mother and father dead within. But Tilla couldn’t
find Bo and that worried her. He never left the house until the sun set beyond
the forest. Dragons favored twilight as a time to attack. Bowstanth had to be
somewhere in the rubble.
“Bo?” Tilla moaned. Afraid her
best friend was gone forever, she hovered over first one pile of smoldering
debris then another. Her erratic flight eventually took her to the edge of the
village.
Light from the full moon set
the shiny needles on the fir trees sparkling like a million diamonds. The
dazzling display only emphasized the tragedy of the burned homes and dead
bodies, scattered in doorways and streets.
Bright light grew in the shadow
beneath a large fir, not far from the edge of the last house. With sudden
understanding, Tilla flew as fast as fairy wings could to meet Bowstanth.
No sooner had the vampire
stepped from the magical doorway he used to go between Real and Other World than
he felt a tiny pair of arms wrap tightly around his neck…or, at least, as
tightly as the arm span of a being only two inches tall could.
“Tilla! What a nice surprise. I
didn’t think to see you until later tonight.” Bo opened his hand, palm up, so
Tilla could light there. His back to the village, he did not understand Tilla’s
great agitation. Pacing back and forth across Bowstanth’s palm, she tried to
decide how to break the bad tidings of his parents’ deaths as gently as
possible.
Bo laughed at her. “That
tickles, Tilla. Be still.”
“You know I can’t. Never have
been one like you.” Tilla reminded Bo once again that he never fidgeted, paced
or wrung his hands when anxious or afraid. Unlike Bo, Tilla never stayed still.
“Bo, I have something to tell
you.”
“All right.” Bo lowered his
long lean body to a log and put up his thumb. Tilla leaned against it for
support. Years they’d spent together, this leaning on each other an old habit.
“Encid came this evening.”
Tilla rose from Bo’s hand in
time to keep from being flung across the forest floor. Like a whip, he jerked
around to stare, in wide-eyed disbelief, at his village. Not everything burned,
but enough to break a heart.
“My mother? Father?”
Tilla spoke in his mind as she
always did. “Merriman, the elf, tried to save them, but it was a matter of
bringing them into the daylight and them dying instantly or hoping the house
wouldn’t collapse and skewer them with wood. The house collapsed, and the
falling timbers impaled your parents. I’m sorry, Bo.” What more could she say?
“Noooo.” Bowstanth ran all
the way down the hill to disappear into the ruined village. Tilla remained on
the log, too disheartened to follow.
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