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It was miserable weather and the kelpie decided she was a fool to take her motorcycle into town, she should have swam down the coast but she thought to save time. No matter now, the trip home would be damp, not that wet bothered her, but the pelting rain and soaked clothing would be the annoyance. She started the engine and started off but was forced to a panic stop as a tiny figure had stepped in front of her path. Her engine stalled, and she cursed under her breath but called out, “Are you alright?”
“Lady Courtesy? Are you the Lady Den Finella?”
The kelpie snapped her head side to side looking for would be attackers while rigidly holding her fae disguise in place in the event she were faced by an Innocent. Satisfied they were alone in a deserted street, she replied. “I am she, and who be ye?”
The figure in the street put back the cloak just enough to show softly glowing blue eyes of a Syxen. In a tiny voice it said, “We, we have heard you have ways between the places.”
Dumbstruck, the kelpie immediately knew what this was about, this Syxen had run away and was looking for passage to France. She looked up and peered between time at the street corner where more than a century before she'd stood in solidarity with the women of the town demanding the right to vote. She lifted her cloak in back and said, “Come with me.”
The Syxen mounted the motorcycle and the kelpie unwound two of her tentacles to wrap around the smaller figure and hold firmly.
“How many are you?” the kelpie asked.
“We will not say until we are sure we are safe with you.”
“Fair enough.” The kelpie restarted her motorcycle. “Any others can track your movement?”
“Should there be any they could, Lady.”
“May I have your name?”
“You may not but you may call me Chelsea.”
The kelpie grinned and started off. Despite the weather the trip was brisk with little traffic on the road. She pulled into the drive where her official address was kept, a cabin by the river. But she dismounted and put the motorcycle away in the garage, still holding firm to the Syxen. “I have a wifi extender from the cabin to the mouth of the river. Inside my cavern you'll be cut off from the outside world. Be sure to let your party be aware of this and what you are doing until you disappear.”
“All location is transmitted if there are any to receive, Lady.”
The kelpie set her down and it took some pulling and twisting, but the sticky tentacles came free as well, with a good deal of fluff from the Syxen's woollen cloak.
They went together down the drive and to across the road, then across the ditch and onto the old railway path and onto the bridge beside the falls. The Syxen, put back her cloak again to look down. “Legend puts it the assassin of a king jumped to her death here.”
The kelpie put back her cloak as well and adjusted the jewel that tended to come loose on the smooth curve of her ram's horns. “As we are about to.”
The Syxen's eyes widened and the kelpie continued, “Oh dainty one, the Lady Finella didn't... die.”
And the kelpie stepped off the bridge and fell into the mists below.
The quartet of Syxen huddled together staring up at the glowing magical aura in the center of the cavern. The kelpie stirred her cauldron for a minute as her next ingredient settled. She found it oddly refreshing she could strip down and put aside her fae disguise and not horrify mortals about her. But her guests were Syxen, not mortals. With a skeletal stretch she reached over to a bookshelf and plucked out a volume. She cast eyes back at the Syxen transfixed by her baleflame she said, “That is a ley line nexus. A natural home for fae. Here, we are beyond the veil.”
The Syxen turned their attention away from the glowing nebula in the air and looked upon the skeletal creature with snakes for hair and writhing tentacles dancing like a halo behind her. And they did so unafraid. The one who had done all the speaking stepped forward a pinch and asked, “How did you know we would continue to operate in this place?”
The kelpie pointed to a sideboard behind them. “My cell phone works fine, just no signal.”
The quartet made a collective 'Oooooooh!' then the speaker asked, “Ma'am, are we going to France through the fairy places?”
“My cell phone switches off in the Feywild. We shall be going by train.”
The quartet turned to face each other and the kelpie resumed her disguise of an equid face and put on her travelling dress.
The speaker Syxen waited patiently until the kelpie looked in the mirror and ran a thin line of lipstick along her lower lip and mashed them together. “Ma'am, is it not a terrible risk of discovery?”
“Not when we're going.”
“We do not understand the explanation, ma'am.”
“All will be clear momentarily. We will be stopping at a friend's place to fetch you uniforms and you will be my attendants until we reach Paris. You will then hide with a friend of mine south of the city until it is time for you to resurface.”
“We do not-”
“Shush please.” The kelpie stood before the fireplace and looked up at the mantel, “See that up there? That picture is a suffrage rally in Edinburgh, 1918. That is me there on the right. And this one, Nelson Mandela visiting Glasgow in 1993. And this one was on Victory Day. I lifted the engine into that Hurricane.”
She turned to face the cluster of timid figures and stood up to her full height. “Fae magic requires a bargain struck.” She handed the speaker the book she had selected.
The speaker accepted the book and looked at the title. “The Works of Robert Burns?”
The kelpie nodded. “You will each commit his work to memory, and that way you take with you a bit of Scotland wherever you go. You will also take these.” She set about each of their shoulders a sash of heather purple tartan. You are henceforth members of my clan. And I look after my clan, as well any other member of my clan. And I will get you to Paris and to safety. Is our bargain struck?”
The Syxen turned inward to one another again and turned back. In unison they replied, “This bargain is struck, Lady Den Finella.”
“Very good,” the kelpie replied as she put on her travelling cloak and gathered her purse and phone. “Be ready to calibrate your times and dates. It is now almost two months ago, the night of the equinox. We travel before you were even gone.”
“Lady Courtesy? Are you the Lady Den Finella?”
The kelpie snapped her head side to side looking for would be attackers while rigidly holding her fae disguise in place in the event she were faced by an Innocent. Satisfied they were alone in a deserted street, she replied. “I am she, and who be ye?”
The figure in the street put back the cloak just enough to show softly glowing blue eyes of a Syxen. In a tiny voice it said, “We, we have heard you have ways between the places.”
Dumbstruck, the kelpie immediately knew what this was about, this Syxen had run away and was looking for passage to France. She looked up and peered between time at the street corner where more than a century before she'd stood in solidarity with the women of the town demanding the right to vote. She lifted her cloak in back and said, “Come with me.”
The Syxen mounted the motorcycle and the kelpie unwound two of her tentacles to wrap around the smaller figure and hold firmly.
“How many are you?” the kelpie asked.
“We will not say until we are sure we are safe with you.”
“Fair enough.” The kelpie restarted her motorcycle. “Any others can track your movement?”
“Should there be any they could, Lady.”
“May I have your name?”
“You may not but you may call me Chelsea.”
The kelpie grinned and started off. Despite the weather the trip was brisk with little traffic on the road. She pulled into the drive where her official address was kept, a cabin by the river. But she dismounted and put the motorcycle away in the garage, still holding firm to the Syxen. “I have a wifi extender from the cabin to the mouth of the river. Inside my cavern you'll be cut off from the outside world. Be sure to let your party be aware of this and what you are doing until you disappear.”
“All location is transmitted if there are any to receive, Lady.”
The kelpie set her down and it took some pulling and twisting, but the sticky tentacles came free as well, with a good deal of fluff from the Syxen's woollen cloak.
They went together down the drive and to across the road, then across the ditch and onto the old railway path and onto the bridge beside the falls. The Syxen, put back her cloak again to look down. “Legend puts it the assassin of a king jumped to her death here.”
The kelpie put back her cloak as well and adjusted the jewel that tended to come loose on the smooth curve of her ram's horns. “As we are about to.”
The Syxen's eyes widened and the kelpie continued, “Oh dainty one, the Lady Finella didn't... die.”
And the kelpie stepped off the bridge and fell into the mists below.
The quartet of Syxen huddled together staring up at the glowing magical aura in the center of the cavern. The kelpie stirred her cauldron for a minute as her next ingredient settled. She found it oddly refreshing she could strip down and put aside her fae disguise and not horrify mortals about her. But her guests were Syxen, not mortals. With a skeletal stretch she reached over to a bookshelf and plucked out a volume. She cast eyes back at the Syxen transfixed by her baleflame she said, “That is a ley line nexus. A natural home for fae. Here, we are beyond the veil.”
The Syxen turned their attention away from the glowing nebula in the air and looked upon the skeletal creature with snakes for hair and writhing tentacles dancing like a halo behind her. And they did so unafraid. The one who had done all the speaking stepped forward a pinch and asked, “How did you know we would continue to operate in this place?”
The kelpie pointed to a sideboard behind them. “My cell phone works fine, just no signal.”
The quartet made a collective 'Oooooooh!' then the speaker asked, “Ma'am, are we going to France through the fairy places?”
“My cell phone switches off in the Feywild. We shall be going by train.”
The quartet turned to face each other and the kelpie resumed her disguise of an equid face and put on her travelling dress.
The speaker Syxen waited patiently until the kelpie looked in the mirror and ran a thin line of lipstick along her lower lip and mashed them together. “Ma'am, is it not a terrible risk of discovery?”
“Not when we're going.”
“We do not understand the explanation, ma'am.”
“All will be clear momentarily. We will be stopping at a friend's place to fetch you uniforms and you will be my attendants until we reach Paris. You will then hide with a friend of mine south of the city until it is time for you to resurface.”
“We do not-”
“Shush please.” The kelpie stood before the fireplace and looked up at the mantel, “See that up there? That picture is a suffrage rally in Edinburgh, 1918. That is me there on the right. And this one, Nelson Mandela visiting Glasgow in 1993. And this one was on Victory Day. I lifted the engine into that Hurricane.”
She turned to face the cluster of timid figures and stood up to her full height. “Fae magic requires a bargain struck.” She handed the speaker the book she had selected.
The speaker accepted the book and looked at the title. “The Works of Robert Burns?”
The kelpie nodded. “You will each commit his work to memory, and that way you take with you a bit of Scotland wherever you go. You will also take these.” She set about each of their shoulders a sash of heather purple tartan. You are henceforth members of my clan. And I look after my clan, as well any other member of my clan. And I will get you to Paris and to safety. Is our bargain struck?”
The Syxen turned inward to one another again and turned back. In unison they replied, “This bargain is struck, Lady Den Finella.”
“Very good,” the kelpie replied as she put on her travelling cloak and gathered her purse and phone. “Be ready to calibrate your times and dates. It is now almost two months ago, the night of the equinox. We travel before you were even gone.”
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fantasy
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 2607 x 1413px
File Size 874.9 kB
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