The Best Laid Spells - Part Three

Chapter Two: The Best Laid Spells 
- Part Three

Read Part Two Here

They were lost.

Great horny toads!

“I told you we should have turned left at that tree stump shaped like a hungover troll,” Slyth said. “No one takes one look at that hideous plant and heads toward it if there’s another path.”

Pix shushed him, tapping her toe, as they waited for Lethe to fly back down.

The snake sighed as he slithered into a pouting coil in the leaf-covered ground. “I can’t believe we’re lost.”

Right?! She was a figging fairy; fairies didn’t get lost.

But it was the thing about being the enemy of two territories; you just didn’t get out of the castle much. It wasn’t as if she got invited to the other kingdoms’ balls or galas. It wasn’t as if she got to tag along with all the royals on hunts or rides through the countryside. She couldn’t even take a trolling walk through the woods without worrying about capture. Or worse.

Pix had no reason to leave Shadow Mountain and had every reason to stay safe inside the border lands.

So while she’d traversed every inch of Shadow Mountain—knew every peak and valley, knew every tree and creek, knew every figging, frogging, flagging blade of grass on that territory—she’d only snuck out onto Starling Forest and Morning Valley lands a handful of times. And, even then, she’d hardly gotten more than a few miles out before some patrolling soldier or guard showed up, forcing her to head back home before she was spotted.

But, now, here she was somewhere near the far end of Starling Forest, lost.

And this had seemed like such a good—such an easy—plan.

Pix turned as she heard Lethe squawk. “Pix!” the crow cried as she sailed down in excited circles. “Pix, I found him! I found the prince! He’s by the river!”

Pix instantly straightened, on alert and excited, before bending over. “C’mon, Slyth, let’s go.” She hurriedly reached out her hand, so he could crawl up her arm to curl around her limb, before tearing through the forest to follow Lethe.

Gnarly gnomes toes! She wished that she could fly like the crow, it would be so much faster and easier than running like some human on the stick-littered, rocky ground. But the dense, heavily treed forest made flying impossible for someone her size. She couldn’t even spread her wings in the trees’ tight confines, much less fly. And she couldn’t chance flying above the canopy; it was too easy to get turned around up there and there was always the chance of being spotted by a soldier who might have found higher ground.

So instead Pix winced as her bare feet struck the sharp, uneven ground, hoofing it like some two-legged cow.

“Hurry up,” Lethe cried as she doubled back, not used to having to wait for the fairy, “he’s just up ahead, in the clearing.”

Pix grunted as she watched the streamlined crow zip through the trees with not a small amount of envy. With a long, longing heave, she picked up her pace.

Bursting through the last of the trees, Pix came to an abrupt stop. She blinked, confused, as she huffed and puffed, her lungs burning. She bent over and wheezed, closing her eyes as she rested her hands on her knees, before looking up again at the confusing sight.

The little royal was splashing around in the river flowing down at the base of a small cliff. Bobbing up and down like some quacky duck. What was that moondust-addled royal doing?

“Where are you, you troll-faced son of a minotaur?” she heard the princeling murmur under his breath as he groped fruitlessly under the river’s waves. “I know you’re in there; show your ugly mug, you coward.”

Pix gasped just as the prince did, shock filling his face right before the surging waves threw him up and out of the river. Pix watched the flightless royal soar through the air before landing hard on the shore. She watched as he shook his head, water spraying off him like a dog, before he looked up at her, stunned recognition freezing him for a moment. “Pix?”

They both turned as a huge wave erupted from the mouth of the small waterfall, the shifting water starting to take form. Pix took a step back, her hand reaching out for her wand, calling it from the shadowed air, as the large river bull reared up from the water. Holy blood-sucking bats! Pix paled as she gripped her wand hard, pulling back her arms as she prepared to cast.

She stopped short when she heard the prince’s battle cry right before she saw him leap, throwing himself on the back of the huge, scaly beast. She scoffed as he whooped, riding the now bucking, kicking creature, its smooth, silver, water-like scales glinting in the sun.

“Is he laughing?” Lethe asked as she landed on a branch near her fairy mistress and cocked her head to the side.

“Yep,” Pix answered, her gaze following Phillip as he hooted and hollered and clung to the bull’s wet, slimy hide.

“So,” Slyth asked, curling up over her shoulders for a better view, “he’s insane?

“Looks like.” Pix crossed her arms over her chest.

“Are you just going to watch or could you, I don’t know,” Phillip grunted at her as his wild mount bucked, making him slip down the bull’s back, “maybe help me out?”

Pix bit her lip and tapped her wand against her arm as she watched the prince grab at the bull’s green, gray, muck-covered horns and reed-like hair as his grip on the beast slipped. She should help him. A good person would. She strolled toward the shore, pondering.

“That thing is going to kill him in a second,” Lethe pointed out, flapping her wings worriedly as she followed Pix.

Pix fluttered up to sit cross-legged on a higher-up rock on the cliff’s face.

“Pix!” the prince called out furiously as he was thrown off the river bull and back into the water.

“I’m thinking,” she snapped and rested her pointed chin in her hand. Wasn’t that like a royal? Hadn’t seen his princely face in years and the first thing he expected was her help! They were demanding little things, weren’t they?

“You know,” Slyth hissed into her ear, “if the bull kills him, it would accomplish your goal of getting the prince out of the way rather neatly while also making the trip home a lot easier.” He slid down her shoulder for a better look at the fight. “Just saying.”

Pix snorted. “The thought had occurred to me,” she admitted with a sly smile.

Her eyes narrowed as Phillip dipped down, disappearing beneath the waves. What was he up to now? She leaned forward as her wings twitched. She was surprised when he popped back up, spitting and sputtering as he climbed up on the rocky cove further downstream from the still snorting, stomping creature.

Running away, huh? She frowned as she sat back. Figured. So much for making her job easier.

Huffing, she moved to push herself up, so she could catch the sniveling, soggy prince herself, when she heard his piercing whistle cut through the air.

The bull roared as a stone struck it in the back of its head. With a vicious splash, it turned to charge toward the prince standing crouched and ready. “C’mon, you overgrown sack of slime, come get me,” she heard the prince cry out, drawing his sword from his side.

Jumping to the balls of her feet, Pix’s hand gripped the rock’s edge and her wings poised for flight. She saw the bull paw at the water, churning the water as it kicked up the muddy riverbed. With its own angry cry, the beast rushed forward, its dark, deep-pool eyes targeting the prince who just stood there like some grinning fool daring it onward.

Pix’s jaw dropped as, at the very last second, the prince swung his sword in a high, steep arc, wedging it between two boulders at the edge of the bank, before heaving up and catapulting himself out of the way.

The bull keened as it tried to stop itself from slamming into the rocky wall in front of it. It slipped and slid in the river mud, tripping over its own hooves, before hitting the rock face head on. Water sprayed around in a great swell as the beast struck.

Pix watched with bated breath as the shining, shimmering creature stood on unsteady legs, shaking his head, before stumbling backward a few awkward, bumbling steps. It snorted, sneezing water out its nostrils, as it tried to turn around again before collapsing down into the river with a graceless, wet fall.

Silence filled the clearing for a moment before she heard Phillip’s triumphant cheer.

Pix sat back with a surprised frown as the prince jumped and waved his arms about in deserved—but still boastingly obnoxious—victory. She fought the smile threatening to curl her tight, thin lips.

Well, huh.

Who’d have thought?

READ CHAPTER THREE HERE