Wyrd: Book One of the Witch War Trilogy - WATTYS 2018 WINNER!

Chapter 27: Where Will Discovers the Truth

Will sat, frustrated, long legs stretched out in front of him. Beside him sat a tough little Fae named Terence who had blocked Will's path before he could follow Sky.

"No." He'd said, getting in Will's way. "Private talks. You're not invited." He'd puffed up his tiny chest and put on an air of toughness that seemed funny to Will. The little guy came up to only his knee and Will could have picked him up and dangled him upside down if he'd wanted.

"Terence," said the burly-wee Fae. "I feel He." He'd touched his small chest proudly. "Pixie."

Terence wasn't what Will thought of as a typical pixie. When Will thought pixie he thought beautiful, he thought Tinkerbell. This little dude looked more like a garden-gnome with a wispy white beard and a potbelly. Even so, that wasn't a reason not to give him the respect he deserved, so after introducing himself, Will plopped down beside Terence and waited. He would have given anything to be with Sky, to hear what she was saying to her old 'flirtatious friend.' He couldn't help but feel jealous. Maybe they were making up. Will's heart did an angry thump in his chest, and his gut clenched. He heaved out a sigh, trying to get a hold of his worries before he got carried away.

"You play," Terence said, handing him an ornate horn with an amused look plastered across his face. A request. 

Will had nothing else to do while he waited so he took it. Maybe failing at it would be a good distraction, give Terence a laugh.

"I was no good at recorder in elementary school, so I suspect I won't be much good at the horn now."

"Play." A demand this time.

Will placed his lips to the white horn and blew. It squawked out a resounding fart noise. Will looked embarrassed.

Terrence cackled and doubled over with laughter. When he finally composed himself, he smiled at Will. "You make me laugh, I make you remember," he said matter-of-factly, like Will would know what he was on about.

Will handed him back his horn and the Fae began to make music, merging notes with the tune coming from the stage in a mesmerizing tone. Nothing at all like the fart-noise that Will had elicited. It drowned out the whispers from the tent, the words being exchanged, the heated conversation behind heavy curtains, so that Will couldn't hear. He felt like he had been waiting for hours. His lids became heavy. Gods, he was sleepy. 

Will woke with a start, jumping to his feet and assessing his surroundings. He tried to remember where the hell he was. He was in darkness lit by two torches, a teeny gnome-like man beside him and ... and Sky, stomping out of the tent, angry, already gaining distance on him.

"Wait, Sky! Wait." He ran towards her in three long strides, only realizing he felt funny as he almost collided with her, stepping on her elegant train as he tried to stop. 

He jumped back.

"Oh, Will. Oh Will! That did not go well," she groaned, clearly frustrated, pacing on the grassy spot as if attempting to make it go bald. "Finvarra is mad at me and ... is determined not to get the Fae involved. This is a disaster and it's all my fault."

Will wanted to console Sky, wanted to make her feel better. He hated seeing her in such distress. 

But his head felt foggy. Slow. And his body felt... invigorated? He grabbed Sky's hand to slow her, calm her. He caught her eye and took her in.

She was a vision. An angel swathed in forest and starlight. With the world on her shoulders.

"Tomorrow," he whispered to her. "That's a problem for all of us. Then."