Changelings: The Novelization (Book 1)

Chapter Eight, "Orichalcum"

Chapter Eight

“Orichalcum”

After taking an entire night and most of the morning to work his way through muddy, cold, dense woods, Gordi finally arrived at the outskirts of the Sylph camp. Stalking through the underbrush, he surveyed the perimeter and found not a Sylph in sight. It was quiet, still.

To his knowledge, this was unusual behavior for Sylphs. True, they were furtive creatures who had a talent for remaining hidden when they wished, especially from foreigners - but amongst their own kind,  they did everything possible to make their presence known, in order to establish the pecking order. Even if they were up in their tree-homes, the boisterous singing, squawking, chirping and buzzing should create the horrid din that they were known for, audible even to Gordi at ground-level.

His encroachment on their territory had not gone unnoticed - Clair must have correctly assessed his resolve to find Miranda, and told her sentries to expect him. As he made his way through the cluster of totem poles that comprised the Sylph court, he kept on guard, shield and iron pipe ready to defend himself from sudden danger.

          Then he spied something he did not anticipate – Miranda, sitting in the central clearing on a short tree stump. Alone. His wariness evaporated somewhat, and he nearly called out to her – but he was glad that he had not given in to this impulse, for a moment later Clair alighted with a gentle flutter of her four delicate white wings. Gordi hid behind a totem pole, watching surreptitiously as Clair offered a cup of tea to Miranda. Miranda accepted it without a word of thanks, her expression speaking of begrudging tolerance. Clair smiled – Gordi assumed that she was amused by Miranda’s attitude, until she turned to look directly at Gordi.

          “Hello, human,” came her silvery tone.

          There was movement behind him – he did not need the confirmation of sight to know that it was someone poised to strike him with a spear. But when he turned to block, the would-be attacker was gone. There was a moment of utter confusion, then he heard a flutter behind him and turned just in time to receive a kick in the gut. Stars of pain clouded his vision in vibrantly-colored ink-blots obscured his attacker for the brief moment that he could have discerned them, before they disappeared with the unparalleled celerity of the Sylphs – though, he was fairly certain the black and orange belonged to the Sylph’s visage rather than to the stars. Flutter. This time he was ready, but by the time he swung his pipe, his cheek was stinging from a sharp slap. Gordi’s anger was roused. Flutter. Forgetting his years of training, he swung the pipe around wildly, yelling like a madman. He hit nothing, and to make matters more humiliating, nothing came except Clair’s silvery giggle. Clair covered her lips coquettishly with her pale hand – a perverse mannerism for someone without shame, thought Gordi.

“You think this is funny?!” yelled Gordi. Evidently they all did, for more laughing voices joined Clair’s. Miranda, he noticed, was sitting and staring placidly. She was not joining in with the laughter, but neither was she objecting or looking concerned in the least. He wondered what they had done to her. “Enough games, faerie woman!”

Clair raised a loaded slingshot. “Oh, we haven't even begun to play games yet.” She fired the silver pellet at him. He dodged at the last moment, ran to close the distance...but when he swung his pipe, he hit nothing. He figured as much – what he didn’t expect was searing pain in his backside. In response to his involuntary exclamation, Clair cackled. He glanced behind him and saw her ready another shot.

This was futile - there was no sense in lingering only to be the quite literal butt of her joke. He made a dash for Miranda.

“Miranda!” he called out. She made no motion. “Can you hear me?!”