Tales From Sios: The Wishing Well Arc

Chapter 11: Gladèn

Novi 30th, 5-14980
Fae captial of Andqil. The wizard: Yengur's labratory. Upper-Under Sios.
Clockread: 16:40 hour

The large emerald and gold flecked eyes of Gladèn held bewilderment affixed in his oversized orbitals, both of the iris were contracted to the size of three full pebbles exposing a pearlescent sheen within the giant pit of his black pupil; a reflection of a  pixie-bob housecat listlessly strolling and playing across the surface.
He leaned back, head swiveling to his left and offering a final glance to the choices before him, the other two jars yielding a magical figment of the animals depicted within its glassy shell. The middle jar boasted a squat brown burrowing owl, beak nestled into its feathery breast, in some underground hovel. The furthest jar from him was a fennec fox, eyes peering as if it saw through the jar, but Gladèn reminded himself the illusion magic didn't work in such a manner, though it did make the fox seem conniving and yet loving, much like his pupil, which swayed his decision.
"I believe this one will do, Yengur." Gladèn waved his hand at the jar that shown on its dusty-glass surface the cat, curled-up and licking its side after successfully hunting and trapping a mouse with incredible stealth and agility.
"Ah, ye got yer a right goo' en! The pixie-bobs 'as ser' faekin fer menee mi'yemena!" The scarred pixie named Yengur beamed with his lame half making his attempt genuinely seem one-sided as the right portion of his face echoed glee while the left hung with garish appeal. Even his eyes opposed the other in size and soul, the left one Gladèn struggled to look into for long, but he caught his gaze lingering upon it and with a start replied, "O aye, splendid, yes I will summon one of these then."
Yengur standing across the jars from Gladèn—working-wing sending black and white glitter dusting about while the shriveled leathery flap of a wing hung down his shoulder like a grotesque cape—eyed him with his good half, before his competent portions of lips managed, "Gladèn why ye wai'ed so long tuh summon a bond," but paused to slurp drool that began threatening to spill during his question, before continuing, "if ye donnut mine me knowin'."
Gladèn, looking back to the cat's image displayed in the jar, remembered the dark corridor, and the wůamfalas, and the screams. The terrible blood curdling reverberations of his kin being drugged away and bitten into pieces by blood drenched glitter stained stone maws of the cave mineral-deposit-looking monstrosities that ambushed them. The many different bonds belonging to the pixie foragers on the attempted excursion were mercilessly drugged off into the deep dark, and when a bond was slain, the master of the bond was riddled by the loss which froze the young spell wielders and the slaughter truely ensued.
Gladèn realized he was clutching his chest and his breathing had grown unsteady, as his thoughts raced in the depths of that jar; the pixie-bob in its surface now hunched over with fur bristling on its hackles as it seemed to hiss, but the image held no sound.
"Ye good lad?" Yengur questioned, without approaching or otherwise stirring.
"I'm fine. Just didn't seem like it was time is all." Gladèn fudged as he scratched the nape of his neck with hand cusped and shoulder shrugging gently while he did so.
"Aye, I curn respek tha'...so ye believe yer rea'y then?" The motley pixie questioned as he grabbed the other two jars, scooping them up in his right arm, to put them away on the cabinet behind him at head height while his question hung in the air.
"I know I'm ready!" Gladèn defended abruptly as his stance relaxed, while his wings broke into a quick flurry blowing emerald and gold to flicker to the ground in the dusty arcane office of Yengur the DualFated.
After Yengur shut the cabinet doors, he spun around and held one arm up as the other swung to point at him a fae hand sign that meant 'sproutflower you'.
Gladèn, having been familiar with the spellcaster for centuries now, ignored Yengur's left-hand-attempt to insult him.
"Shorry ma'e." Yengur offered as his right hand covered the shame of his left.
"I know Yengur, I know. Sorry I've been a little off myself lately."
Yengur's left arm finally relaxed as the scarred faeman leaned in to speculate, though when he spoke his mouth fully elaborated his speech, something Gladèn felt unsettled by, "Aye I reckon it be that human, what came through the stone."
Gladèn immediately felt that burden re-bestow itself in his shoulders since that issue that happened a tenday ago was still plaguing the fae counsel, and in kind Gladèn—since he is acting head forager and discussion of a scouting mission had come up several times, but luckily hadn't been affirmed yet by the full ruling body—although Lord Deirdre had seemed partial to a survey of the intruder so it would only be a matter of time before he would be called to that honorable task...
"Will ye be goin' ter garden ter'nigh' then?" Yengur puzzled, shifting the conversation, as his left cheek twitched at every other syllable making his pronunciation more garbled than usual.
"Aye, I'll be going there now actually." Gladèn picked up the dusty jar, pressing it into his bark-armored chest, and offered a curt bow to the DualFated, who gave a favored right-sided nod in return at the pixie's departure.
"Mugu be wi' ye." Yengur called before Gladèn made the door to exit the room.
Gladèn turned only his head to respond, "Forever in her tear..."
With that Gladèn pushed off the natural stone floor with tiny faeboots and left a trail of sparkling emerald and gold dust in his wake, when he zipped off, clutching the jar; the pixie-bob in its depths on a full sprint, bounding through a twilight lit grassy field, with the hunt blazing in its eyes.
Gladèn flew from the tower of epiphany—a conglomeration of wizardry offices, studies and personal labratories to some of the most renown spellcasters in the fae scrolls of history to have ever lived above or below—through the overhead jagged mineral deposits leaving the Drips well behind him when he left the tower. Passing the largest formation of siosen minerals and natural exposed crystals that served as the temple to Migi, the goddess of all the fae species and believed to be the patron of arcana as well; its walls marked in the bügul goo with intricate glyphs and depictions encasing every piece of stone. Upon the seemingly random veins of glowing bismuth crystal formation within the enormous stalagmite temple to Migi, Gladèn glanced at the reflection of himself while soaring past in its polished surface. His reflection broken up at the sections of glyph-covered siosen rock and ultimately broke his concentration of self, and at that he looked forward once more before speeding out over Lake Mala toward the 'Window to Sios', the Fae Garden near the eastern tunnel entrance.
Gladèn within a minute was upon the structure that housed the gardens, slowing his flight as he came to the hanger on the southern side. The lead forager landed deftly on the rough stone ground, wings giving a final flutter as a robed faelad approached with wings sending brown and blue glitter about the stone landing.
"Welcome, head forager, to the Window to Sios. We have been expecting you for some time." The faelad crossed the hanger to Gladèn, hovering inches above the rocky floor with his hood nestled upon his brown and blue hair allowing a tuft of it to peak out from the ivory fabric that didn't dare to blow off during the pixie's flight.
"Aye, yes, thank you. I had other pressing matters to attend." Gladèn responded shifting the jar from one arm to the next as his fingers tingled something smart from the sudden flowing of circulation.
"It has been 130 years since you first took the path of Migi's knowledge." The other pixie chastised as he came to a stop in front of Gladèn.
"I did not realize the gardens were keeping such a tedious track of me." Gladèn scrutinized the other fae as he shook the sensation in his free hand.
This made the faelad cock his head as his eyes followed the sudden movement of Gladèn's violent hand swinging before adding flatly, "You are the head forager and you have not brought a piece of sios above to you here below...fae lips whistle and it is noticed."
Gladèn rolled his eyes dramatically before offering, "Well I am getting' it now, yeah?"
The outburst from him forced the others head, back past his neck, reeling for a half a heartbeat until his thin hands pressed his fine silken cloak garment flat before he scolded, "Head Forager, ye voice needs to be lowered to a respectable level in the gardens."
"We are still in the hanger," Gladén reasoned before pressing his point flatly, "hardly in the garden. Keep your petals on."
At that Gladèn stepped beyond the other pixie and with a flourish of glitter began a hover to the corridor that lead up to the garden hidden within the giant stalactite.
The other fairy stayed standing on the hangers landing, but offered a quaint Migi's farewell. Gladèn, without stopping, gave the customary reply over-shoulder and made his way to the ascending stairless corridor entryway where he began towards the left, still clutching the jar in his arm as he went.
As he rounded the portal way another pixie was coming in the opposite direction when they collided at the threshold. Gladèn spun as he lost balance in the initial hit, sending him onto the slopping stone floor hard, but the sound of the jar smashing still reached him as he laid in a fetal position groaning in melody with the other fae.
"Fiddlesticks." Gladèn's words were a pained moan as he slowly shifted on the dusty glittered stone floor.
The other fae was squirming on the ground as well until a sudden yelp escaped her lips as she attempted to get to her hands and knees.
"You alright?" Gladèn pushed off the stone and his legs moved over to the lady who had gone back to the floor, holding her left fae paw now streaked in crimson.
"Sproutflower that hurts!" Her complaint burst as tears welled on her magnificently large purple eyes.
"Lady Liabri, language puh'lease!" The initial pixie finally reached Gladèn and the other fae as he harped on the one he called the Lady Liabri.
Gladèn spun on the faelad with his finger to his mouth and made a sudden shushing hiss, which only forced the lad into a bristled fluster as his eyes went wide holding flabbergasted astonishment at Gladèn's audacity.
The lady stiffened a giggle that turned the faelad's attention back on her, but as his eyes fell on her he must have seen the blood trickling down her forearm, for he ceased his bickering and stepped over to her waving his right hand before him and crossing his middle and ring finger as he did so. The faelad's hand waved through the air back and forth, but on the third trip it started glowing green. That green glow kept building, like he was putting it in some unseen vat of emerald glowing light, with each pass his hand still holding the initial sign, glowed a brighter shade of green until it was undiscernible from searing white blinding light when he reached down with his normal paw and said, "My lady, if ye'd please?"
She reluctantly held her hand out, the gash free of pressure streamed anew and spilled upon the ground before him, but he took it gently nonetheless before setting his palm aglow over the top of the wound.
Immediately Lady Liabri's shoulders relaxed as she sighed relief when the light casted through her hand deafening the white brilliance into an orange glowing hand of warmth with green bits of glitter shimmering boundless within the depth of her paw.
The faelad released her arm as his other hand retracted showing normal once again, leaving the lady's arm aloft and flaunting an unblemished pixie paw, which Gladèn narrowed his eyes briefly in solemn disdain as he reflected mentally, 'Wish healers had the faefeels to be foragers. Where was this in those tunnels. No they hang back and only heal what's left...'
The faelad eyed Gladèn with a silent fury behind his giant pixie eyes before he countered seemingly out of nowhere, "Wish in one paw and faesoil in the other, see which one fills up first, Head Forager."
Gladèn zipped over to the faelad and grabbed him by the collar of his silken rob as he barked, "Are you mad! How dare ye go in my head! I am a head forager, what author-"
Suddenly the faelad, with hood now drawn back from the tussle, grabbed Gladèn's wrist as he blurted, "Un-paw me at once!"
Gladèn only clenched harder upon the other's robe, twisting the farbic tight into his grasp, prompting the other fae to grumble a complaint while he rose to match Gladèn's hover while his free hand shot up and shoved Gladèn in a weak attempt to move him and only slightly drew back the head forager's shoulder, albeit briefly.
"You are in the gardens! I have all rights as a druid for Foret the Ever Giving!" The faelad finally countered as he struggled in the firm grasp of Gladèn, both locked midair with wings furiously sending a downpour of blue, brown, green and gold glitter to the ground around the lady who now was up on her feet hopelessly attempting to reign the two in.
"Enough!" The voice boomed out from the corridor down to the right as another faelad came out wearing the same silken robes that the garden's druids souly wore, only his had an outline of a rose in gold thread over his heart embroidered into the teal silken fabric, expertly so; within the intricate stitching pattern, (that would be impossible for a human's clumsy hands to ever try to replicate), was the prayer to Foret, the spritely patron for all things of nature on Sios. Worn only by the elders within the druidic grove and their head authority, the Great Druid Cathbad, who undoubtedly stood before them now, with a brown and a green eye both darting from each of them before finally landing on Gladèn.
"What is the meaning of this?" The fairies voice broke the stifling silence, but Cathbad's question did not linger as his pupil wrenched from Gladèn, who had slacked his grip, and flew over to the superior, sliding into a kneeling bow before him with head down as he spoke with voice laden in shame, "Draoi Mór, they-"
The great druid raised his arm, gently resting his palm on the back of the pupil's head, forcing with rye effort, the faelad into silence allowing Gladèn the opportunity to flutter back to the floor, where he straightened his thin bark armor that, which resembled leather, laid neatly back into place.
"Head Forager Gladèn, I'd hear from ye, if ye please." His head lifted from the faelad to Gladèn as he slowly moved his hand from the fae's crown to meet the other hand and rest within his spacious teal sleeves before him, an embodiment of placid patience holding to his youthful-seeming features.
"Actually, I'd hear from ye...so do ye give all your druids authority to mind-peer on department heads or is this one just special?" Gladèn blatantly patronized as he motioned to the faelad still kneeling before the great druid, head solemnly bowed.
"Be it true, Alfir? Are ye mind-peerin on the head forager?" The great druid talked down to the novice druid in a pleasant tone that held a gravity that betrayed its kindness.
"Draoi Mór, I only did it because he was being combative." Alfir reasoned with pleading admonition, gaze still averted.
Gladèn felt the blood rush to his shoulder blades as his jaw slacked with astonishment at the faelad's words, but knew to maintain his composure and instead thought screamed, 'Ye filthy wrong-saying flick of faesoil!' Gladèn could tell his thoughts found their mark as the druidic pupil stiffened and held a dark faced scowl that peeked from lowered chin when Gladèn spoke aloud, "Great Druid, your understudy has mistaken my motives. I thought his approach was suspicious, mind-peerin on me without warrant so i did become combative, but it was certainly after the fact."
Cathbad looked from Gladèn to Alfir and parted his lips to speak when Lady Liabri chimed in, "The head forager speaks truth, Great Druid." Her voice was a reserved squeak, but it drew the great druid's attention and he settled his gaze upon Alfir when he finally spoke, "Alfir, clean this mess and restore that glass. One of DualFated's so be sure to affix the illusion of the-"
Gladèn stole his moment and gleefully clarified while the great druid reached for what it was, "Pixie-bob!"
"Yes," the Great Druid agreed before adding, "be sure to visit my chamber when you've completed and I will proof it for you." The Great Druid turned and offered a curt bow of head to Cinniúint the Lady of Root Liabri and to the head forager before turning on his heel and gently lifting to the air to zip back down the corridor where he came, leaving his pupil alone with them in awkward silence when he moved to slowly stand up and brush himself off.
At that point Cinniúint moved over to the head forager and stood before him when she attempted to apologize, "Head Forager, please forgive me for smashing ye jar."
Gladèn was quick to gesture his hands as his words spilled out, "Lady Liabri-"
"Please, just Cinniúint, Lord Liabri has been dead some time now. The formalities are unnecessary, I am lady to none."
Gladèn froze as he digested her words forcing him to stammer out a response, "R-Right then. Well Cinniúint, you don't need to offer your apologies, I was a true bug brain, and Im the one, what should be sorry and all for crashin' into you."
At that Cinniúint gave a thin lipped smile, before she spoke with a near melodic voice as she condescended, "Head Forager, that language is best kept for the tunnels company."
"Ah! So you are in fact a lady still." Gladèn jested, which made Cinniúint giggle before she quelled her amusement when she suddenly put her hands on her hips, stepping one leg partially out forcing her hips to cock, accentuating her feminine curves further as she held a scolding form.
"Surely you jest, Head Forager. Or am i to believe you find me boyish?"
Gladèn felt his cheeks burn rose as the smile worked up his features and despite his efforts to disguise it—by bringing his hand up to his mouth—he only made himself seem more bothered and this too he attempted to play off as her gaze followed his masking hand he shifted his articulation so his thumb and forefinger framed his chin while he gave an audible gurgitation of thought.
"You have to think?!" Lady Liabri's incredulous tone made Gladèn shrink at her words as he reached for a defense.
"Only to think how best to respond as a gentlefae, without being an absolute shaobhadh over your lady-like splendor..."
This forced a genuine heart felt chuckle from the lady, before she warned playfully, "Careful Head Forager. You might seem like ye flirting."
Alfir, unintentionally eavesdropping, scoffed at them from within the corridor in-between strokes from his hand brushing the glass of the broken jar into a pile. When the sounds of glass shards grinding stone in sweeping tandem resumed Gladèn turned back to Lady Liabri, whose stance had already stiffened into a more becoming pose from embarrassment, and he took the hint.
"I should be going-" Cinniúint began when Gladèn blurted out, "I needs to be getting' to the garden anyhow, maybe I'll catch you at Dimblebee's sometime."
Lady Liabri's face softened as her eyes suddenly looked away and her hand came up to her throat where it began to fidget with the small alexandrite held in the necklace's centerpiece.
"Dimblebee's? Maybe you will..." Cinniúint's smile reappeared but as soon as it did, the lady gave an odd chuckle as she abruptly turned and made her leave calling over her shoulder before she made it from the hanger, "See ye around Forager!"
Gladèn hurriedly cried out his response, but immediately regretted it once it left his lips, "You too!"
"Ye too?" Alfir criticized out of nowhere, forcing Gladèn to wheel about with annoyance painted fresh upon his features.
"Don't you have a jar to mend?" Gladèn spat back while he moved towards the druid on foot, but he did not stop when he reached the druid—still stooping and dealing with the jar's devastation—instead, when he passed him, he pushed off the ground and flew up the stalactite; leaving his green gold dust and a sneering druid in the corridor entryway alone with his rhetorical question.
The head forager zipped through the tunnel, passing faemade sconces with bügul lanterns that lit the way, until he reached the only double set of doors in the entirety of Andqil, the doors to the Window of Sios.
When he pushed the doors in they swung with squealing appeal, a complaint that sounded off of the stone walls and echoed back behind him to the stairwell. The effort to open was minimal; thanks to the enchantments that assisted the would be heavy stone doors and unkempt iron pins they noisily spun on. Gladèn winced at the garish sound, but moved through all the same, making sure to close the entry once inside.
The spherical chamber had natural stone walls adorned with glowing green, blue and red from bugul blood depicting many scenes of the surface world in simplistic finger painting style. The art stacked and became more frequent as Gladèn's view careened upward following them to the over head domed ceiling where a portal, wreathed in arcana glyphs of the same bügul blood, acted as a window into an unexpected oasis of magically lit vegetation above.
As Gladèn marveled at the portal motionlessly starring with awe at the ferns and trees from his vantage point, below the tropical out-of-place scene, a head suddenly snapped into view. With wild caramel colored eyes and mussy brown locks of hair, the fae druid squeaked out, "Gah-ha! A visitor?!"
The fae—with a voice in shrill octave, yet somehow raspy,—called to him, with a near crazed fervor, "Come to bask in the memories of Foret, aye?"
"Fiddlefarts! Bartlebee, you scared the bügul out of me!" Gladèn lamented as the shock settled, before he took to the air to meet the druid, althewhile answering his question, "Aye, well sorta Bee...I'm here to gain me familiar."
As he finished explaining, he reached the druid and stayed hovering inside the chamber below while Bartlebee remained in his precarious position with head nodding along to the head foragers words.
"Ye finally settled it, eh? Accepted yer chance to gain a sorcerer's companion, a magical familiar. Bout time Gladèn..."
The patronizing and familiar tone made Gladèn roll his eyes before correcting bluntly, "...a bond."
This only forced the druid to shift himself, staying prone but swiveling around the natural portal in an exaggerated full body cocking of his head, with eyebrows shifting and eyelids glaring quizzical sneer at Gladèn before reasoning aloud with a shrug, "Bügul-begal. Same difference. Sorcerer calls it one the druid another of the same."
Gladèn let out a halfhearted snicker of a scoff before reaching out for the other fae letting his wings bring his body up through the hole, forcing the druid to squeak once more, that turned to a giggle as he deftly dodged the attempt by the playful forager to snatch him up for his blatant comment.
"Its Bügul..." Gladèn affirmed more to himself as he made it through the window, but the words drained from him as the oasis filled his view and a warmth of bliss ebbed in his chest and his mouth slacked in marvel at the true sight of the great Window to Sios.
"Where be yer jar of life? Don't ye need that to call yer excuse of an animal?" The druid probed with rye appeal, snapping Gladèn from his stupor once more, this time with true annoyance worn on his features.
"The jar broke. They are fixing a new one for me and told me to come and wait here."
The druid; now hovering shoulder to shoulder, where wing berth allowed, chimed in, "What were ya choosin'?"
"A Pixi-Bob." Gladèn replied flatly, turning to meet the others stare.
Bartlebee made a gleeful noise as he abruptly ended his flight and as he was falling a short distance back to the ground he shifted his shape and landed as a brown toned pixie-bob, with the same caramel color of eyes that glowed around the slits of the now feline iris within.
Gladèn let out a gasping squall that bordered disgust as he shook his head at the druid, adding under his breath, "Bat-brained shapeshifters."
The druid only offered a gentle 'buhrrreown' while cocking its head to the side.
"What? Use you as my focus for the ritual? Oh sproutflower! ...fine."
Gladèn, with patience thinned to a translucent degree, quickly understood the druid's intent and immediately bent down and picked the feline up and tucked it in one arm.
The kitty druid went limp and began to purr the moment it snuggled into the cradle of Gladèn's arm. The head forager rolled his eyes over this odd affection by his cat-formed kin, but otherwise ignored the annoyance, and without a word ended his flight and plopped on the ground there atop a wayward root that jutted above the fae made soil, bringing his legs to crisscross in a meditative pose.
His free hand began to etch a sequence of motions going from the cat and flourishing the wrist as he pulled an invisible essence to the sky and brandished the movement to his face, hissing words of the arcana tongue repeating the gesture and archaic verbiage over and over, droning on until it became a rhythm of mesmeric proportion.
To Gladèn the world shrank away as he continued on with all his attention on the pixie-bob in his arm. The feel of the fur warm against his skin and the soft purr that matched his magical cadence consumed his thoughts and forced his vision to tunnel upon the cat.
For hours he did this, staying focused upon the cat as well as the auditory and physical demands of the ritual until his hand began to ache and his arm became numb beneath its weight, the sensation filling fingertips with smart appeal. A few more hours passed, despite the growing discomfort when he felt the druidic feline shift in his arm suddenly, ever so slightly the spinal column of the cat seemed to briefly begin to grow upon his arm—threatening to pull him from his concentration as he became aware and realized the druid had to re-engage its assumed pixie-bob form. Gladèn pushed the stirring annoyance to the recesses of his mind pressing on with the ritual managing the words through gritted teeth until he got back into the droning rhythm.
Several times that occurred and each time he struggled to maintain the taxing dedication of thought and coordinated movement, but with all his determination he stayed on task until a vicious zipping and whirring sound grew before him sending sparks of bright red to scatter in a rushing circle on the ground.
Gladèn ceased his mutterings and froze holding the druid–who also starred intensely upon the gathering spectacle, but remained nestled in the forager's embrace while it did so—as the red display of near volatile noises unexpectedly ceased into a red billowing smoke the quickly turned to a crimsoned mist.
When the shroud cleared nothing was left in its wake.
The druid moved first twisting in the arm of the forager to its four paws before bounding onto the ground and landing as the fae still in a crawling position.
"24 hours wasted...what a bug-brain." The now fae chastised in morbid disbelief at the foragers failure.
"You're the one who kept distracting-" the words vanished from him as his head snapped to the side, suddenly cutting himself off, to see where he felt a sensation like a feeling of clever amusement wash over him, yet he knew they were not his emotions, but that of his new familiar. The green and gold pixie-bob smiled at him from behind a shrub with bright red eyes bearing a sinister intelligence, but Gladèn had already begun cheering his own success and mocking the druid as he did so.
"Who is the bug-brain now?" Gladèn teased as he spoke over his shoulder while he scooped up his new companion; immediately feeling the cat's overwhelming joy cascade through his mental tether with it.