November 2012 C4WE Winners

The following stories won in the November Fantasy Fiction contest. The judges had a very difficult time choosing the winners, and their final results appear below:

First Place: Faery Fading

by Patricia Vestal. After a career in education and publishing, Patricia Vestal has returned to her mountain roots in the culturally and naturally rich Asheville, NC area. Her educational, profession and creative experience encompasses playwriting, film & game scripting, poetry, prose and journalism. Pat has taught all of these genres through nonprofit theater and arts groups and at the college level. Fantasy and Science Fiction are her favorite escapist reading genres and she has begun a novel featuring a slightly different version of Faery Fading’s protagonist. Holding an M.A. in Drama from NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts and a B.A. in Media from SUNY, she is a member of the Dramatists Guild, North Carolina Writers’ Network, Lost Playwrights of Western NC and recent founder of the Write On! Writers group.

Faery Fading

Tumai struggled to acclimate herself to the cacophony of sounds, sights, and smells barraging her. She had crossed from her serene ethereal world to one of this world’s most populous cities: a testament to humanity’s egotistical urge to dominate and convert nature into their own constructed reality. She transformed her miniscule, ephemeral body into a ubiquitous denizen: a pigeon. Tumai took wing, soaring over the mass of humanity that seemed to move as one entity on foot and wheel, rushing toward myriad destinations. How could she find within this throng any of the few human believers left? She had to try. The power generated by human beliefs was what bound them to the natural and supernatural worlds. The delicate interdependent links were fading. She must find people to help rebuild them.

Tumai extended her mind, seeking receptivity. The result was an assault of hostility, self-absorption, malice, and lack of empathy. A wall so harsh she almost lost control of her glamour and skidded to the ground.

Trying to regain equilibrium, Tumai gazed up at a signboard standing on the sidewalk in front of a building. It bore a likeness she recognized: the human perception of a fellow creature which they called leprechauns. He held a mug in one hand and with the other beckoned to the door. Tumai glowed with elation. It had not taken long after all. She took on the likeness of the billboard leprechaun and waddled through the door. The interior was swathed in dark wood, dominated by a massive bar. Behind it a huge mirror reflected what little light there was through glass shelves filled with colored bottles. A low conversational murmur drew Tumai’s attention to the people who sat on stools at the bar. She reached out with her mind; a glimmer of response trickled from a rotund man hunched over the bar with his hands wrapped around a large mug. He jerked his head; she saw confusion in his eyes. Tumai clambered up on the empty stool next to the man and adopted the speech style she had witnessed in people impersonating leprechauns. “Top ‘o’ the mornin’ to ya,” She tipped her bowler. The man glanced around then looked straight at her, “Kids ain’t allowed in here,” he said flatly.

“I’m way older’n any kid ever,” she intoned. The man blinked, shook his head, taking in her appearance, then guffawed, “Hey Pete. Lookit this midget dressed up like your leprechaun.” The bartender sauntered over and peered over the counter top. “You had the nerve to come back here!”

“He’s been here before?”

“Yeah. I hired him to walk up and down the street advertising my pub. Didn’t bring in enough business to pay his salary, then made off with my tip jar. It was full too.”

“Hey, bartender!” a demanding voice rang out from a table.

“You better not be here when I get back, midget,” Pete headed for the tables.

Tumai knew she had only minutes, so turned back to the rotund man who was gulping from his mug; encouraged by a hint of recognition she sensed in him, “Ye know who I really am, don’t ya?”

His eyes slid toward her, the mug still attached to his mouth, beer dribbling down his chin,

“You’re a midget who doesn’t know how mad Pete can get. You better scram.”

Ignoring his comments, she persisted, “Let me ask you a question. In your heart, don’t you think that creatures like leprechauns and faeries are real?”

“Anything can be real if I’m drunk enough.”

“Think back to when you were a boy. Did you believe in faeries?”

“Naw. That was girl stuff.”

“Well other creatures of what you call… magic?”

“You mean like those weird characters geeks play online in RPG’s? I’m strictly a FPS gamer. Give me real world war stuff. ”

Tumai had to do something drastic, fast. “I’m a faery.”

He burst into laughter, “So you’re a gay midget?” He doubled over laughing, “You’re in the wrong place. You want The Iron Horse around the corner.”

Pete reappeared, scowling menacingly at Tumai, “Your time is up, twerp. I’m gonna…” he started around the end of the bar. Tumai felt a wave of hatred that terrorized her. She jumped from the stool and ran outside, with just enough strength left to change into a fly and zoom away.

She lighted on a lone scrawny tree to rest, drained, clinging to the tenuous link to her own world that was now her only source of strength.

Abruptly she was jolted by a human psychic connection. Honing in on the source, she swooped behind two young women entering a shop.

“It’s not that long ‘til Halloween. Let’s look at costumes here,” One of the women rushed in.

“I won’t be dressing up, Heather, but it’s fun to look.” The other young woman followed.

“Why won’t you dress up Jenny?” Heather was already pulling garments off the rack.

“I never have a date or get invited to parties.”

Heather hadn’t waited for an answer; she was already carrying several outfits to the fitting room, so Jenny began browsing through garments. As she pulled out a flowing gown, Tumai was drawn into a vivid fantasy that blossomed within Jenny. Its intensity electrified their connection, emboldening Tumai to action.

“Hello Jenny. I am here.”

Jenny dropped the dress she held, a hand flying to cover her mouth. “I’m hallucinating.”

“No. I’m here, just as you imagined me as a child. I’m your fairy godmother.” Tumai shimmered in human form, her lovely face encircled by flowing blonde tresses, but sparkling wings gracefully brushed the glittering gown she wore.

Jenny’s expression changed, “Okay, Heather, how did you get into that costume so quick?”

“You must recognize me. You were just recalling me from your childhood fantasies.”

Jenny crumpled to the floor, sobbing, “How could you be so cruel, Heather? “

Tumai bent to touch her head, but Jenny jerked away, jumping up and running toward the door, babbling, “I never thought you’d use secrets revealed in confidence to taunt me. I hate you!”

The link was severed. Tumai returned to pigeon form, frantically searching the busy street for Jenny, but there was no trace of her.

As she flew, her natural optimism grew tinged with despair. Had humans lost all sense of connection with other life? Was it too late?

A surge of positive energy enveloped her. She had instinctively flown to the protective embrace of a park. Trees, bushes, grass, flowers, small animals bathed her in love and power.

Tumai soared into the park, her mind reaching for human connection, finding only the all too familiar wall of isolation and hostility.

Children’s voices rang out. A playground. Did children still feel that sense of oneness that had created a rich mingling of worlds? She observed them playing. Most were too young to understand her mission. Anxious parents hovered over them, fearful for their safety even here. Beyond the playground several boys played in an open area. She flew closer. Centuries of observation and contact had schooled her in human development. These boys appeared to range from eight to twelve years in age. The many dogs leading people on leashes along the walkways inspired her to transform into a perky terrier. Didn’t all boys love dogs? She bounded toward them. One boy clutched a ball under his arm and ran, other boys chasing him. Tumai joined in.

“Hey, mutt! Get outta the way!” She scrambled to avoid the foot kicking at her, tripping another boy, who toppled to the ground. Tumai tumbled like the football that had been dropped. The physical and psychic shock defeated her glamour. It was difficult for humans to visually perceive other-world beings, especially tiny, almost translucent faeries like Tumai. She was in danger of being trampled. Desperately, her mind reached for the boys’ but slammed against a wall of resistance.

She focused on each boy in turn, finally touching a fluctuating portal. “Don’t hurt me. I’m alive!” The boy shook his head, looking around wildly. “It’s Okay. I’m a friend. You can just think your reply. The others don’t have to be aware of…”

“ Aaaaaahh!” a howl erupted from his lips and he leapt toward one of his companions, tackling him to the ground. “What was in that joint your brother gave us!” The two boys wrestled on the ground as the three others tried to separate them.

“Hey Bobby, what’s wrong with you?” One boy dragged Bobby away. Tumai, dazed, power diminished, struggled to avoid the hulking bodies, still tentatively trying to connect to one or more of the boys.

“Somethin’s in my head!” Bobby grabbed his head with both hands.

“Not brains! That’s for sure.” They all collapsed laughing.

“I’m serious. Did you guys hear something?”

“Yeah. We just heard an idiot babbling.” Torrents of laughter. They now all sat on the ground, almost in a circle, bent over in laughter. Tumai buzzed each in turn. She landed on a head, then an arm, then a knee. The boys slapped at themselves. “Gnats. Maybe that’s what got into your head Bobby. “

“Yeah, Sean. A gnat flew up his nose.” They fell over in a spasm of giggles. Tumai gathered the power to enlarge herself to the size of a bird or squirrel. She danced around, jumping from one boy to the other. Humor had strained their sense of disbelief. Like needles pricking fabric her mind pierced theirs. “Look at me! Can’t you see that I’m a faery?”

Disbelief rushed back in. “Hey, now I thought I heard something really crazy. Did you hear it too? ” Sean’s eyes were wide.

Sheepishly, the others nodded agreement. They examined themselves, each other, the ground around them. Tumai hopped as fast as she could, trying to place herself directly in someone’s direct line of vision.

“What the….?” Bobby jumped up, grabbing his left foot. “I swear, guys, some kind of thing was on my foot. Looked like a big dragonfly or something.” Tumai flew onto his shoulder and pulled his hair.

“Ouch!” Bobby slapped, just missing her. The other boys stared in amazement. Sean grabbed at Tumai as she nimbly flew to the other shoulder. He missed.

“I hate to say this, but it doesn’t look like any animal or bug I’ve ever seen. It looks like a person.” Sean was matter of fact now. “I think Bobby is right. There was really something strange in that joint. We should never have smoked it. I’m through with that stuff.”

“Hey, Bobby!” shouted a girl around eight years old running toward them, “Mom says come on home. She needs you to help her,” panting, the girl skidding to a stop in front of Bobby. She gasped loudly, mouth dropping open, eyes popping. “A faery!!!”

“Thank Mother Nature,” Tumai exclaimed. “Someone finally recognizes me.”

“Faery? You mean like in kids’ books?” Sean stepped closer, peering at the creature on Bobby’s shoulder. “Damn, you know, it does look like…aw, no. It’s some kind of a trick.”

“I bet it’s some kind of damn robot.” Another boy’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at the smaller girl, “Is this some robot toy of yours?”

The girl was too stunned to reply. She just stared at Tumai.

“I need your help,” Tumai sent soothing but vivid images to the girl.

“Fae, answer him.” Bobby glared at his sister.

“Your name is Fae?” Excitement flooded Tuma.

“Yes. It is.” The girl managed to squeak.

A clamor erupted from the boys, “Alright. I knew it. “

“It is a trick.”

“How’d you get a robot like that?”

“Do you know why you were named that?” Tumai persisted.

“It’s my mother’s name. And her mother’s. She said if I have a daughter I have to name her Fae too. She said we’d know why when the time came.”

Tumai glowed, enveloped with joy, “It’s time to visit your mother.”

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Second Place: Summers with Elwind

carol folkerts by Carol Folkert. Carole is a devoted family person married to her best friend and is the mother of their seven children who are the constant source for writing material. She got her first degree in Theatre Arts and vocal music and her second degree in education. She left the stage and the school system to raise her family and when she went looking for something creative to do with her life, she found it at home in front of the glorified typewriter. And it is there that she actually found herself. She continues to raise her family with all their shenanigans and writes in her spare time.

Summers with Elwind

It was the summer of my eighth year.

As always, we were to spend it at my grandmother’s cottage in the deep woods of Minnesota. It was my own little Narnia tucked into a little harbor on the shores of one of the lakes. I welcomed the freedom to finally be outdoors. My mother, one of the city’s finest, thought otherwise. Apparently I had an affinity for finding the blackest of dirt which was not proper etiquette for a “young lady.” She kept me dressed up in the most absurd finery to deter me from my outside playtime. The clothing, to her utter dismay, did not stop me.

My mother said she always found me lying down in the flower beds. I can’t explain it other than it felt like home to me. There’s a whole world there just above the blooms where the spectacular butterflies and hummingbirds flew, between the blossoms where little fantastic insects made their way up and down the stems busy at their work, and below where the earth worms and beetle bugs dwelled. They fascinated me in a world unnoticed. And, truthfully, I believed there was more to it all. You see, I always thought if I could be just the right amount of quiet the faeries who no doubt lived there would reveal themselves to me.

I would lay my face down in the cool mud and wait. Sometimes I would hum softly to myself, other times would break into song imagining they would hear my voice and want more. The faeries never showed themselves to me, but who did show up came as a complete surprise because, up to that summer, I had never known they existed.

At the north end of our garden where Tiger Lilies grew amongst the ferns an ancient oak tree stood guard. Its roots stretched across the length of our yard and mischievously tripped us as we made our way back and forth to the water’s edge. It provided delightful shade in the summer and a vibrant display of fall colors in the Autumn. It had always been there and largely taken for granted until one day as I lay there still as a statue in the dirt beneath its beautiful canopy when I heard a small “click” at the base of the tree. I thought, “Finally, I will get to meet one of the garden faeries” and expected to see someone with wings like a dragonfly and a lilac wreath in her hair, but instead, stepping from the little camouflaged door into plain view was a tiny man. His beard was pure white and grew to just above where his knees would be. He had an odd little hat on the top of his head resembling a leaf and a mismatched outfit that made him almost invisible in the garden. He smiled at me kindly and put his finger to his lips. He took out a small scroll like looking object and put it inside the box beside the door. He pointed first to me and then to the box. And before I had the chance to even speak, he was gone.

I sat up and cautiously made my way to where the little man just moments before had stood. I must have been dreaming I thought to myself and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. But on closer inspection, there in the dirt were tiny footsteps in front of the door. I wanted to open it and peer inside, but decided that would be rude. However, he did seem to invite me to look into the box. I glanced around to see if anyone was coming and then carefully opened the lid and removed the paper tube. I unrolled it. I had to squint my eyes to read the miniscule words which read:

Dear Glynnis,

I am pleased to meet you.

Elwind

As shocking as it was, it by no means came as a surprise that the little man knew my name. From the sheer number of times my mother had yelled, “Glynnis! Get out of the garden!” There simply was no doubt in my mind that everyone a mile in any direction knew my name. I tucked the note in my dress pocket and went in search of a piece of stationary.

And so began my relationship with the gnomes.

I never spoke to him, but we became friends through the postal system we developed exchanging letters using the box beside his front door. I learned he and his wife, Ettie, with their two young sons had lived there as long as we had and for a hundred years before that. They loved the summers and found the winters a bit harsh. However, other than making sure the winter animals fending for themselves were taken care of with the food they stored, they stayed warm deep in their home. He learned that we traveled back to the cities when we weren’t here, that I am an only child, and that I did not love wearing dresses. Both of our families loved the cottage and we agreed it was a shame to be anywhere else.

On one particularly still and humid night, where the air hung on me like a damp towel that I’d forgotten to hang up to dry, I sat near my open window and saw a small flicker of light. I was delighted that after all of these years we might finally have fireflies. I snuck out to the garden with my jar to try to catch one but discovered Elwind working by the glow of a small candle. I sat down quietly and tucked my knees up under my nightgown and watched him as he continued to work. He gave a wink to me when he finished, blew out the candle and disappeared into the darkness.

In the morning, when I went to see if I had any mail waiting for me, instead of another familiar scroll I found a small wooden object. I took it out and looked at it between my fingertips. It was a tiny piece of bark with a small “G” carved into the center. A small hole was at the top, just big enough to thread a ribbon through. He’d made me a present.

I wanted to make him one too, but what could I do as a child of only eight and a half? We continued to exchange letters as I wondered what I could possibly give back to him. Saturday was baking day and I was learning how to make a rhubarb custard pie, from my grandmother’s ranch in the black hills of Medora when I got the perfect idea. I would bake Elwind and his family a pie too! I washed out one of the coca cola bottle caps and asked Grammy for a small piece of dough. I divided it in half and flattened the first piece into the bottom. I snitched a little bit of the filling and put a dab onto the dough and flattened the second piece and placed it on top. With a little sprinkle of sugar and three pokes on the top to let the steam out, I had her put it in the oven when she checked the pie she’d made, “Only a few more minutes and they’ll both be perfect!” She announced. “You are very clever to make a tiny pie for your dolls.”

“Don’t be silly, Grammy. I’m too old to play with dolls anymore. It’s for. . .” and before I could stop myself from blurting it out, “Elwind.” I quickly covered my mouth hoping she hadn’t heard.

She turned and smiled at me, “So you’ve met Elwind?”

“You know him?”

“Of course I do.” She folded up a paper towel like a makeshift potholder and put the hot pie in my palm. “This one would win a blue ribbon at the fair I think. Run along dear before your mother gets back. We’d both be in trouble if she caught you in the mud again!” I dashed out to the garden and placed the dessert in the wooden mail box and went back to help Grammy clean up. I was very pleased with myself and that night I could barely sleep imagining them at their little table each eating a piece of pie.

In the morning, before anyone else awoke, I scurried out to the garden. I looked inside our mailbox and discovered a carved rolling pin no bigger than the size of a twig. Tied to one end with a blade of grass was a note that read, “Best pie ever. Maybe this will make it easier!”

I think we made a hundred different kinds of pies that summer, my Grammy and me.

The days of summer lazily rolled into the crisp evenings of August. It wouldn’t be long before we’d once again go back to the city and leave all of this behind. It broke my heart to leave Elwind, but he told me he’d see me again next summer and the summer after that. He, after all, wasn’t going anywhere as his life was here. For six more summers I returned and continued this unbelievable yet profoundly magical friendship.

When I was almost fourteen, the day before we were to arrive, a wild spring storm developed and cut a path of destruction from one county to the next. As we drove through each of the small farming towns on the way to the cottage we saw people’s homes devastated, boats thrown from their lifts like toys, and cars smashed like aluminum cans. Power was still out in a few of the towns, but people were busy outside cleaning up and rebuilding. My mother looked back at me from the front seat of the car, “Don’t worry sweetheart. Your grandmother said our cottage is just fine, although we lost a few trees.”

“What?! Lost trees? You didn’t tell me that yesterday!” My heart had skipped a beat and then I think stopped actually beating at all. “Can’t you please hurry?!” I begged. We pulled into the familiar road and bounced in and out of pot holes until we arrived at our own driveway. I am not entirely sure that the car had come to a complete stop before I threw open the door and bolted down the hill. And what I saw confirmed my worst fears. The beautiful old oak tree lay next to the garden instead of towering above it. The top branches were broken into kindling and the base was cracked right in two. The roots had been pulled from the ground from the force of the storm and appeared to still be trying to hold on. I crawled around the front to where Elwind’s door had once been and could, with what had formerly been his “roof” gone, now see the little stairwell that led deep down into the earth. I called softly to him but there was no answer. I dropped to my knees and felt around for our mailbox. I had all but given up hope when under my knee I felt it half buried in the dirt still wet from the torrential rain. I hesitated. What if there was no message? What if he and his family had not survived the storm?

I opened the box and to my sweet relief, there was a familiar scroll of paper. I tentatively unrolled it, hoping for the best. It read,

“Dear Glynnis, The storm was fierce, but we are safe. We have had to move. I hope we will see you again someday. We will miss your pies, but we will miss you most of all. As always, your friend, Elwind.”

I looked frantically from tree to tree that day and each day that summer. I kept looking every summer, but I never found him.

Today, however, my granddaughter made a tiny pie with me.

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Third Place: Enemies of the Snake

by Lindsey Bramson, who lives in Prosser, Washington. She has enjoyed writing her whole life and hopes to find the perfect literary agent to help publish her second book soon. She focuses most of her stories on historical or science fiction settings – which are total opposites, but hey, opposites attract, right? She also works a Mary Kay business and does a lot of volunteer work at her church. She gets a lot of writing inspiration from the t.v. shows she watches with her grandma, but makes sure to balance all that sitting by jogging every morning with her mom.

Enemies of the Snake

Alexar was contemplating killing the girl behind him when he felt the atmosphere change. In the dark, he couldn’t actually see anything; but he felt the strong gust of wind blast through the trees as a heaviness settled upon them. Looking around, he motioned for the guards to halt. They stopped obediently and watched as a dark cloud appeared before them. As it began to take form, Alexar glanced at the girl tied to the wagon. Even in the dark, he could see the challenge in her eyes as she stared back.

The dark cloud slowly disappeared as a large, black snake emerged before them. It eyed them all hypnotically before moving forward, its sinewy body curving and folding as it slid along the ground. Alexar stood with his hands folded in front of him as the man-size reptile slithered toward him. When it stopped inches from his face, he bowed his head slightly.

“Your Majesty.”

The snake flicked its tongue once, just missing Alexar’s nose. Then it slowly began rising above him as the dark cloud appeared again, engulfing the snake from top to bottom. Within moments, a finely robed man stood before Alexar, mirroring his posture. He smiled and held out his arms.

“Alexar, you’ve returned my possession.”

His gaze flicked back to the girl, who gave him an ice cold stare. He chuckled.

“I hope she was not too much trouble.”

“Not at all, sir,” Alexar answered.

“What is this?” the king pointed to his bandaged hand.

“She tried to set a badger on me.”

“I see.” The king looked back at her. “And this is why I banished Animal Controllers. All but the most….appealing, of course.” He gave her a smile that sent chills down Alexar’s back.

“What happened to the badger?”

Alexar could feel the girl’s gaze on him. “It’s dead.”

“Good.”

The king turned to walk away as the dark cloud began surrounding him again.

“Make sure she is back in my quarters by midnight. Remember, Alexar, if you allow her to escape a second time, you know whose head it will be.”

In a blink, he was gone. Alexar turned back to the guards.

“You heard him. Everyone get moving. I want this girl back in the palace by eleven o’ clock.”

“This girl has a name,” she called to him.

Alexar ignored her as he began walking.

“What? Do you only speak to things that aren’t human?”

Alexar turned on his heels and marched back to her. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her till she was inches from his face.

“I would shut up if I were you.”

“Or what? You’ll kill me? You couldn’t even kill that badger.”

Alexar gripped her arm tighter, making her flinch.

“I could kill you if I wanted.” With his other hand, he drew his sword. He raised it above her head, then brought it down on the rope that bound her hands to the wagon.

“Keep going,” he ordered his guards. “I’m having a talk with this one.”

He jerked her off the path, away from the others.

“This one’s’ name is Leisel,” she said as she stumbled along.

“I don’t care what your name is or what you’ve done. All I care about is doing my job.”

“Which is capturing and returning innocent girls to that monster of a king.”

“I wouldn’t say you’re innocent.”

“I was before the king took me.”

“Look, I don’t have to care about your problems -”

“Oh yes you do; especially now that I know about you.”

Alexar’s jaw muscles tightened. She nodded at him.

“That’s right. If you don’t want the king finding out your secret, you’ll let me go.”

“And face a punishment worse than banishment? I don’t think so. I’ll take my chances with you.”

A twig snapped behind them. They both turned to see a pair of yellow eyes staring at them. Alexar didn’t need daylight to know they were looking at a Blood Wolf, the most dangerous predators in the Bramlin Forest. A low growl gurgled from the beast as Alexar took a slow step backwards, pulling Leisel with him. The wolf moved toward them as it tried to hypnotize them with its cold stare.

A series of howls erupted down the path. Alexar and Leisel turned to see a pack of Blood Wolves charging from the woods, attacking the hypnotized guards before they could draw their swords. In that instant, the Blood Wolf in front of them leapt at Alexar, knocking him to the ground. His sword flew from his hand, clattering against a tree. He heard Leisel fall somewhere to his right as he wrestled with the beast on top of him. Its powerfully sharp claws scratched at him, tearing straight through his armor as it went for Alexar’s heart. Alexar grabbed hold of the wolf’s snout, using all his strength to push the sharp fangs away from him.

The wolf thrust its paw on Alexar’s face. Alexar cried out as he took one hand off the wolf’s snout to grab at the claws digging into his face. Just as the wolf was about to tear at his chest, Alexar felt it go flying off him. Confused, he looked over to see Leisel on the ground next to him, her feet still up in the air from shoving the wolf off Alexar.

In a flash, Alexar had grabbed his sword and was on his feet. The wolf leapt at him again, but this time he drove his sword straight into its heart. The wolf gave one last whimpering howl, then went limp. Alexar pulled the sword out of its body and turned to help Leisel up.

“What about them?” she asked, watching in terror at the bloodbath going on down the path.

Alexar sighed and returned his sword to its scabbard. He stepped into the middle of the path and drew a deep breath.

“Blood Wolves, heel!” he called in the wolves’ language.

Immediately, every wolf stopped attacking the guards and turned toward Alexar. They simultaneously went down to the ground, each one bowing their heads. As the guards who were still alive came out of their trances, they stared at him in disbelief.

“Alexar,” one of them said, spitting blood from his mouth as he stepped toward him. “You’re a Controller?”

“I always knew there was something off about you.” One of the older guards stepped forward. “Looks like you won’t be captain of the guard much longer. That position was supposed to be mine anyway.”

“I just saved your lives,” Alexar retorted. “Without me, you would all be dead now.”

“Don’t pretend that you saved us out of the kindness of your heart,” the older guard said. “We all know that if you don’t obey the king’s orders, your mother gets the ax.”

Alexar felt his jaw muscles tighten again as his fists clenched at his sides.

“Looks like you’re in a predicament now. You go back to the palace, the king will find out you’re a Controller and you’ll be banished. You don’t return and the king will kill your mother. Suppose you let us take care of it the easy way.”

The older guard drew his sword.

“I wouldn’t recommend fighting me,” Alexar said.

“I’m not suggesting you fight; I’m suggesting a quick and painless death for you. Then we’ll take the girl back to the palace and tell the king that the Blood Wolves got you.”

“You’re forgetting the king can hypnotize you to make sure you’re telling the truth.”

“Why would he need to if he has what he wants?” The man looked at Leisel.

Alexar put his hand on his sword. “And in this grand scheme of yours, what happens to my mother?”

“What concern is that to you? You’ll be dead soon.”

The guard began walking toward him. Alexar went to draw his sword when he heard Leisel call out,

“Blood Wolves, come!”

Immediately the sounds of howling and barking filled the air as the wolves raced back. They positioned themselves in front of Alexar and Leisel, facing the guards. With their fangs bared, they growled in warning. Alexar glanced at Leisel.

“If you so much as take a step in our direction, these wolves will gladly rip your hearts out,” she said. Then she nodded her head at Alexar. “Let’s get out of here.”

Alexar stared at her in confusion. She looked at him impatiently.

“Do you want to stay here and get killed?”

He looked from the guards to the wolves to Leisel again. With a sigh, he released his grip on his sword and turned to follow her away from the others.

“You won’t be alive for long, Alexar,” the guard shouted behind him. “You’re only delaying the inevitable.”

Alexar’s mind raced as he and Leisel made their way deeper into the forest. How long would it take the guards to return to the palace and tell the king what had happened? And how long after that would the king go to his mother and –

“Hello, mind untying me, here?”

Alexar looked up to see Leisel holding her hands out to him, the rope still tied around them.

“How do I know that you won’t run away from me if I do?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Seriously? I just saved your life twice back there, and you don’t trust me enough to untie me?”

“Why did you save me? What’s your agenda?”

“Other than staying away from the king?”

Alexar crossed his arms.

Leisel shrugged. “Us Controllers have to stick together.”

Alexar shifted his weight as he stared at her. With a sigh, he drew his sword and cut the rope around her wrists. She shook her hands as she looked around.

“So how long were you planning on staying in the king’s guard with that secret?”

Alexar was silent as he sheathed his sword and folded up the rope. Leisel turned to look at him.

“For as long as he had your mother.”

Alexar flung the folded rope over his shoulder. “I think we’d both better stick to talking to animals.”

He began to walk past her when she reached out and grabbed his sword. Alexar whirled around, but she already had it held to his throat.

“How long do you think you’ll be able to last out here on your own?” she asked. “Do you even have a plan?”

Alexar eyed the steadiness of her hands. “Why should I tell you?”

“Because I can help you.”

“I can see that.” He nodded toward the blade at his throat.

She narrowed her eyes at him and dropped the sword. Placing one hand on her hip, she asked, “So, what is your plan?”

Alexar held up his hand. “First, we need some ground rules. Number one: no taking my sword from me.”

“That’s a lousy rule from someone who was threatening to kill me just a little while ago.”

“Rule two: no back talking.”

“I’m not liking these rules too much. Why don’t we just focus on what’s most important right now?”

Alexar folded his arms. “Which is?”

Leisel rested the sword on her shoulder as she gave him a sly smile. Lifting her head to the sky, she gave a long, loud call. Within seconds, the sound of birds filled the air as the growls of land predators filled the forest. Alexar looked around as every beast and bird imaginable appeared before them, bowing in unison. He glanced at Leisel. She nodded in the direction of the palace.

“Getting your mother back.”

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