Thanks, Al. He could have spoken up sooner.
“Soon, you will prove your intentions to us,” the guard said. “Whether they be loyal or false. And then you shall become another decoration under our feet,” one of the guards said before they both fluttered their wings and flew off, leaving me alone in my cell.
I sat on the floor, as there was nowhere else to sit. No furniture, no food, nowhere to use the bathroom. These pixies had some nerve. I swore I would tell my stepfather about this. He’d raze this place in a heartbeat.
But I’d have to be alive to do that, wouldn’t I?
Perhaps I could escape and look for the pure magic on my own. I realized I needed their permission, but what were the odds of getting it? They’d locked me up just for being here; what would they do if I tried to take their precious tree?
I inspected the bars more closely, detecting a faint enchantment. The pink-tinted, pixie magic felt unfamiliar to me. I debated on spellcasting the cell bars to break them down, but that could be risky. I didn’t know pixie magic as well as I should have, and I could end up blowing the place to bits—and me along with it.
Magic was out. What else could I do to get free?
“Rotten luck, isn’t it?”
I heard a female voice and jumped to my feet. In the cell next to mine, a pixie woman stirred. She lay on the floor with a tatty gray blanket covering everything but her head and neck. I wondered why I hadn’t seen her sooner and realized her blanket made excellent camouflage.
Her soft, cottony hair stuck up in every direction. She had full, round lips and dark eyes. She might have been beautiful if it weren’t for her sunken cheeks, protruding collarbones, and the look of madness glinting in her eyes.
“Who are you?” I asked and took a step away from her.
Her smile only increased my suspicions of her insanity. “I am called Uli. Are you elven?”
“Half,” I told her.
“Half?” She cocked an eyebrow.
“Half-human,” I clarified.
Her eyes widened. “Human! Very good. I adore humans.” She said the word “human” the way a food critic would say “fresh Maine lobster.” She stuck her hands through the bars and extended one to me, palm up. “This is how humans greet, is it not?”
I inspected her hand, wrapped in rags, the untrimmed fingernails filled with dirt. I’m not a germaphobe, but this was pushing it. She held it a few seconds, and finally I gave it a tiny shake. I decided that any alliance I could make in this place, even with a half-crazed pixie, would be in my favor.
“My name is Olive,” I told her.
“Yes. You’ve told me already.”
“I have?”
“Of course!”
“When?”
She winked and offered no other explanation.
It wasn’t possible that she knew me. I hadn’t told the guards my name in front of her. Weird. I filed it away for later review. The most likely scenario was that she was insane and had imagined it.
“Do you know of any way to escape this place?” she asked me.
“I was about to ask you the same thing. Have you been here long?”
“Only one night.”
“Really?” Given the state of her filth, I found that unlikely.
“I have a nasty bad temper. I spend the night here every moon cycle or so, until I can regain my composure. I am so very fortunate to have lost my temper last night; if not, I’m sure we’d never have met.”
“Yes. Fortunate.”
She got thrown in jail for losing her temper? What kind of temper did she have?
“Uli,” I asked her, “do the pixies really kill outsiders like they say? Do you think they’ll execute me?”
She sucked on her lip, which made her look a little like a deranged dog. “Hard to say. They haven’t killed you yet, which is fortunate. Your chances for living another day are quite good.”
“Wow, thanks. I feel so much better.”
“Yes! I am so glad you do.”
The queen of discerning sarcasm, this one. I rested on the ground once again, watching the lights twinkle from the baubles attached to the winding tree limbs. This wasn’t going at all how I’d expected.
Uli wasn’t much help, but she knew more about the pixie ways than I did. Surely I could learn something from her, right?
The pixie girl clenched the bars between us, her knuckles white. “Shall I tell you a story?” she asked.
“No, sorry. I’m not really in the mood for stories.”
“Oh, that is too bad.”
“Yes, it’s too bad.”
The whirr of fluttering wings came to us from the sprawling city, like the hum of a well-tuned engine. I rested my chin on my knees. Surely I could reason with the pixie king and make him understand how dire my situation was, if I ever got the chance to see him.
“Have you met the pixie king?” I asked Uli.
“Ha! Everyone has. He is our king, yes?”
“Is he a fair king?”
“He is our supreme judge. He is strong. His might will conquer all enemies who come into our lands. His sword will crush those who wish to conquer, bleed the lifeblood from intruders, grind the bones of our attackers, mutilate—”
“Uli,” I cut her off. “Thanks, I actually wanted to know if he’s willing to let outsiders pay a visit to the tree containing pure magic?”
“The sprout of the Ever Root?”
“Is that what your people call it?” I’d never heard it called a sprout before. Interesting name, as it was supposed to be the oldest tree in Faythander.
“It has many names,” Uli explained. “Some call it the Eternal Tree, others call it the Everblossom. But, to give answer to your question, none are allowed to view it, not even me.”
“Have you tried?”
She laughed. “I am still alive, aren’t I?”
Great. So even the pixies were murdered for trying to find the tree. This was quickly becoming an impossible task. Darn it all—Kull had been right. I should’ve tried to find pure magic somewhere else, at least then I wouldn’t be
