Sprite

Nothing more was said about clothing, and Miriam never again went swimming in the pond across from the house all that long summer. Instead, she took Neistah for walks, always making sure to fasten his collar and chain first. John Hanan believed whole-heartedly that the minute amounts of iron in the chain served to bind the Sprite. Neistah followed along docilely enough; whether it was because of the iron or not remained to be seen.

The result was that the old man allowed them more freedom to roam around his property unsupervised. Jim still hovered nearby, not convinced that iron had anything to do with anything. It was no secret, except to Mr. Hanan, that Jim, and everybody else, believed Neistah was a mutant. Not even Miriam believed the Sprite was anything more.

The Hanan property ran for miles. It was densely wooded, and the only house on the entire property was the white mansion at the end of a long dirt road. Hanan insisted on his privacy. He was rich enough to be able to afford the metal fencing that ran the perimeter of his property, as well as the armed guards who regularly patrolled it. Dave and Bill were among those guards. They weren’t the most reputable of men, but they were all that were available this far away from any of the established areas of civilization.

Most men like Dave and Bill, and even Jim, were fortune-seekers. John Hanan was fully aware of that, and closely guarded his wealth. By doling out payment in carefully measured drabs, he ensured their good behavior. Jim, while ostensibly one of his muscle hires, had a more contemplative nature. He had proven himself time and again when temptation raised its ugly head, forgoing a chance to pocket some valuable trinket, or going out of his way to keep an eye on Hanan’s granddaughter when it was not part of his assigned duties. It was now. John Hanan liked Jim. What’s more, he trusted him.

Jim was more interested in the local flora and fauna than in gaining personal wealth. The other mercenaries jeeringly noted that he was more at ease with a pencil than with a gun. They had all come from the same background, from the scattered city-states that ringed the forest. Most of the surviving land was forest, or desert. Except for a few manufacturing centers, whose knowledge was passed down, father to son, for untold generations, and whose enterprises were only as good as the raw materials people like Bill, Dave and Jim were able to scrounge up, most of the population survived hand to mouth, in miserable human enclaves which sprang up like pimples along the edges of the wilderness.

The wilderness belonged to the mutants. No normal person, with the exception of bounty hunters, ventured out into the dark woods. Mutants, those aberrations still born centuries after the great disaster which had come close to wiping out mankind once and for all, escaped to the forests when they weren’t killed outright. Sometimes their aberrations were not easily apparent. Sometimes the physical differences were slight, or not noticeable until the mutants had grown to adulthood. Sometimes the differences weren’t physical at all. Many of the mutants who fled into the forests were killed by animals or, more commonly, by the humans who hunted them for sport—and money.

Jim was one such hunter, but he never cared about the money. He enjoyed being out of the dirt and squalor of the human cities, breathing fresh air and eating food that wasn’t moldy or diseased. He found himself fascinated by the handful of mutants he and his band had captured over the years. Each of them was unique, with physical and sometimes mental attributes which helped them to survive in a mostly non-technical world.

The Sprite was the first water-creature Jim had encountered. By that time, he had quit running with his band, and had taken up John Hanan’s offer to come work exclusively for him on his estate out in the middle of nowhere.

John Hanan III was from an old manufacturing family. He made his fortune because his family remembered the technique for combining metals. It was a closely guarded secret even among the elite families who encompassed the upper crust of the world’s society. Even though the old man was a recluse with strange ideas in his head about sprites and fairies and other mythical creatures, he kept tight control of the family business. His son-in-law, his late daughter’s husband, ran the factories for him so he could play at being a gentleman in his remote wooded estate. John Hanan took in the child, his granddaughter Miriam, after her mother died, and raised her at his own house, sending her to the best schools and throwing occasional garden parties for the very few of his peers who would consent to make the trek out to his woodland estate.

They lived a life of semi-luxury, without electricity, which they still used in some of the larger factory-cities, but in comfort nonetheless. Since the Sprite had been captured, John Hanan refused to let any of his employees leave the premises, nor would he allow any visitors from outside. “In the fall,” he promised. When Miriam was sent away again to school, he could hide the Sprite somewhere safe, where no one except himself, and perhaps James, could find him. There were still too many unknowns surrounding the Sprite. Miriam dragged him through the forest, chattering to the creature all the while although the Sprite never responded, according to his sources. The Sprite could go for short periods outside of his water, but after that, he invariably started to droop and eventually he refused to walk any farther until Miriam relented and led him back to his pond across from the house. He would have to solve the problem of a water source for the Sprite during the cold winter months before he could release any of his workers to the outside world. Dave and Bill, particularly, resented being confined to the property. They resented guard duty to Miriam and the Sprite even more.

“Hurry, run faster!” Miriam pulled on the chain that connected her to Neistah as they ran through a tangled path which ran at a tangent off the dirt road. Several feet back, obscured by thick foliage, Jim trudged along behind them with his inevitable pad and pencil. When they were far enough up the new path to remain unseen, Miriam crouched down, pulling Neistah down with her. She giggled when Jim plodded past the turn-off. “Come on.” She gave the chain a quick tug.

Neistah followed her without complaint as she led him ever deeper into the woods. Let her think she was fooling her guards. He knew better. He dragged her to a stop where a barely visible stone wall veered away from their path. “This way,” he said, leaving her to follow, still holding on to the useless leash. The way they walked now was completely new, not even a path at all. Neistah pushed his way through the overgrown bushes that hid the stones until Miriam cried out in complaint, as thorns tore into her arms and legs.

“Ouch!” she said, trying in vain to get Neistah to stop. The woods had closed in all around them, no longer the sunlit idyll of a few minutes before. She hurried to shorten the distance between them. Neistah grinned at her fearful look.

He let her nearly catch up to him before he took off once again, abruptly pulling her along with him now. Miriam held onto her end of the leash for dear life, afraid of losing her only way out of the deep woods. For a long time, neither one of them had heard any sounds from their so-called guard. Finally, they were truly alone.

Roughly, Neistah hauled Miriam after him, ignoring her cries of distress. He stopped so suddenly she bumped into him, and stared off into the foliage before starting up again, only to splash into a barely running trickle of water. He followed the trickle until it widened into a stream, no deeper than his calf. Miriam, behind him, stumbled and fell to her knees. “Stop,” she said, making no move to get up out of the water. “Please stop.”

Neistah plunked himself down in the water next to her, and stretched out. The water barely covered him, but immediately his webbing softened and turned almost clear, absorbing the moisture. “Don’t you like it here?” he asked. His voice was sandpaper coated with cream.

Miriam looked at him. Her braids, where the ends trailed in the water, were sopping wet. Her clothes were ruined. Somehow, in the midst of their adventure, the tables had turned. “No,” she said with a catch that was not quite a sob.

Neistah turned his uncanny eyes on her. “I need the water,” he said, as he’d told her that first day in her bedroom.

“Then we’ll go back,” Miriam said, looking uneasily over her shoulder. She hoped Neistah remembered the way back. Jim must be frantic by now.

Neistah grabbed her arm when she started to get up. “Not there,” he said softly. He had explored every inch of the man-made pond across from the old man’s house. There had been springs which filled the pond from below, but no egress except through the gate on the end of Miriam’s leash. He needed to find another pond, or a lake, something natural to these woods.

Miriam bit her lip, a little of her fear subsiding. Neistah did need the water. She should have realized she was pushing him beyond his limits with their little excursions. Looking at him now, lying flat on his back in a few inches of water, she saw how vulnerable he was. “Was that what you were looking for?” she asked him. “Another pond?”

Neistah nodded. It wasn’t all he had been looking for, but it would do. They had gone farther today than previously. In the distance, he could hear crashing through the underbrush and faint shouting. “Get up,” he told Miriam brusquely. He didn’t want Hanan’s men to find him near this stream. He might have to find this place again some day.

Again he led the way, until they neared the dirt road at a completely different spot than where they had left it. Miriam’s dress was spattered with dirt but dry, as was Neistah’s delicate neck webbing which now lay flat and faintly white against his green tinted skin. Then he let Miriam take the lead, dropping back and letting his head sag in weariness. Miriam cast him a suspicious glance, and he gave a low laugh, just before Jim came running up to them. Miriam reddened.

“Where did you go?” Jim sounded affronted, rather than angry.

Miriam flounced by, tugging gently on Neistah’s chain. She jutted out her chin. “I don’t have to tell you,” she said regally. “But if you must know, we went for a walk. It’s not my fault you can’t keep up.”

Jim shook his head and followed behind Miriam and the Sprite. The creature was obviously dehydrated and was having trouble walking. Miriam had to constantly tug on the chain to urge him forward. Jim sighed with relief, even as the scientist part of him cringed at this misuse of a specimen. No harm was done, then. The creature lost strength and mobility away from its water source. Miriam had been safe, even though he had lost sight of her for a quarter of an hour. He hoped Miriam wouldn’t tell her grandfather about this incident.

As soon as Miriam released him, Neistah dove into the pond. His head ached from trying to call out subvocally, as he had done all day today and every day since Miriam had started taking him on her walks through the woods. Nothing ever answered his calls. He was truly on his own. Hopefully, the seeds he had planted today had fallen on fertile ground. Time would tell. He flipped effortlessly under the water and dove to the bottom of the pond, stirring up sand and a flurry of small fish.

Miriam changed her clothes and went downstairs to take supper with her grandfather. She asked him if he had any maps of his property, explaining that she was trying to find new places to walk with her pet. Papa did have maps, lots of them.

“Have James mark out some paths for you,” he suggested. “He’s familiar with the safer areas. We wouldn’t want you to get lost out there. Even with my fences, there are still wild animals in those woods. He will be able to guide you and keep you and the Sprite safe on your little walks.”

“Okay, Papa,” Miriam said, gathering up the maps so she could take them to her room. She spread them over her bed so she could puzzle them out. Oh, she would bring them to Jim later on, so he could show her some safe paths. But before she did that, she tried to find some place where Neistah could swim alone and unseen except, of course, by her.

She found a pool on the edge of her grandfather’s property that was secluded from the house and from the eyes of unwanted onlookers. It was in the center of the forest which stretched for miles and miles beyond their house. The pool was the safest by far that she had discovered, for Neistah could not escape even if he did try. The forest was too deep and too dry for one such as he, and any other direction would bring him within the bounds of her grandfather’s men.

Jim had been very helpful in mapping out paths where she could take her Sprite. He even went with her to make sure they were safe before she brought out the collar and chain for her pet. It gave Miriam a good sense of where things were on the property in relation to the maps she had studied. The pond she had discovered was easy to get to, once she got rid of Jim. That was easy to do, too. He left her off at the house so he could observe the Sprite in his natural habitat. She was supposed to be taking a nap. Grandfather was napping, and the staff knew better than to keep tabs on her. She slipped out the back entrance and ran back the way she had just come with Jim, then struck off through the woods, running lightly as she checked for landmarks according to her maps. She came upon the pond suddenly. If she hadn’t been specifically looking for it, she would have missed it completely.

She looked wistfully at the tiny pond and then at the limitless darkness of the forest. In all her sixteen years she had never been beyond this point except to go to school. She resolved that someday soon she would leave her grandfather and all his prison luxuries and grow up.

“I’ve got your pool,” she told Neistah the following day as she fastened his collar. Jim was busy directing the carriage driver, who was delivering a new shipment of supplies to the estate. He was one of the few outsiders allowed to come and go, out of necessity, and knew nothing about Neistah. Jim had seen him drive up and immediately escorted him around to the back of the house, out of sight of the pond.

“Come this way.” Miriam took Neistah by the hand and walked quickly up the dirt road, past the bend that was the house, into the trees that quickly became a tunnel. It would be miles before the fence began, miles too before another human being would find them. At some point Miriam left the dirt road and followed a low stone wall that was all but invisible in the thick brush.

“They say these used to mark the boundaries of ancient fields. I like to think they’re more than that.” Miriam glanced up at Neistah as if expecting him to agree. The chain hung slack between them. Miriam still had a light hold of his hand.

Neistah ignored her. He was silently calling. But in all the bright wood there was none to hear him.

At last they reached Miriam’s pond. It was smaller than the one in front of her house, but black, very black. She released him from the chain and collar, which were just for show anyway. Quickly Neistah dove in, slicing through the cool water until he reached the bottom. Then he zoomed around the perimeters of his new home, and found it very much to his liking.

“How often do you need to swim?” Miriam called from the shore.

Neistah regarded her thoughtfully. Actually, he did not need to swim at all. His apparent weakness on land had been an act for his captors. But swimming was his way of life, and he enjoyed it. Besides, it might prove to be a good opportunity for escape, and for other things.

“Oh, mostly all day,” he told her.

“Every day?”

“Yes.”

His voice awakened strange feelings inside of Miriam, feelings that she couldn’t pinpoint or explain. His wasn’t a youthful voice, although it should have been.

“Miriam, thank you. I am content here,” he told her. He didn’t tell her that the pond continued underground. Nor did he tell her that their adventure had not gone unnoticed. Those two sneaky men, Bill and Dave, had been following them for quite some time. Neistah would give them a show.

Slowly he slid under the surface of the water until just his eyes were visible. Miriam watched him open-mouthed. He held out his hand for Miriam, still underwater like the Sprite he was supposed to be. When she hesitantly took it, he pulled her under with him, so quickly that anyone watching would think that she just disappeared. As quickly, for she was struggling mightily, Neistah wrapped his arms and legs around Miriam to still her, and placed his mouth on hers, letting his breath flow into her lungs a little at a time. As soon as she realized she would not drown, Miriam relaxed.

On the surface there was turmoil. Bill and Dave burst from the trees, shouting for Miriam. They even ventured out into the dark water a little way, stamping and splashing so loudly that all the fish, and Miriam and Neistah too, swam to the opposite side of the pond.

It felt strange to be held perfectly immobile yet to move with such speed beneath the cold water. Neistah’s breath was sweet and never-ending. His body undulated very slightly as he freed his legs but not his arms from hers. Then, with a suddenness that she was learning characterized all of his actions, he propelled them both right out of the water and onto the shore. He left her standing on the bank as he slipped back into the water with a smile on his lips and a toss of his head to indicate the men on the other shore.

They noticed her just as she noticed them, astonishment evident on their faces.

“Miriam! How did you get over there? Did the creature hurt you?”

“What are you doing here? How dare you follow me! I’ll speak to my grandfather about this!” As Miriam spoke, she got angrier and angrier.

“Who do you think sent us to guard you?” taunted Bill. “That creature is dangerous. You should not be alone with him.”

“That’s for my grandfather to decide!” retorted Miriam. “He gave the Sprite to me.”

Neistah had made his way back across the pond unnoticed. Now he grabbed the nearest ankle, Dave’s, and yanked. With a splash and a most unmasculine scream the older man fell into the water. By the time he picked himself up, sputtering, Neistah was back at Miriam’s feet, grinning at them as the sun glinted on his green-black hair.

“He did it!” Dave shouted, pointing at Neistah. “Now I’m soaking wet—“ He stopped, and stared for a moment at Miriam, who was also fully clothed and soaking wet.

“Oh, stop! How could the Sprite have made you fall in? He’s been here by me the entire time,” said Miriam. “He’s harmless. I’ll prove it to you.”

Miriam waded out and began to swim, arm over arm, across the pond. Neistah kept up with her and smiled into her eyes the entire way. All she could see of him was his head, a disembodied head floating next to her without any apparent effort.

She pulled herself up on the other shore and Neistah remained in the water. “See? He isn’t dangerous.”

The two men glanced at each other, and Bill spoke. “I don’t think your grandfather would agree. You’d better come back with us.”

Miriam nodded. “Yes, I’ll come back with you. But not the Sprite. He stays.”

“That’s fine,” said Dave. “He isn’t going anywhere.”

Neistah watched them disappear into the woods. Then he disappeared, too, down the deep waterway that ran underneath the forest and underneath the fence and into the great river beyond.