Sprite

They kept to the river. Breyan and Norah took turns towing Pup on their backs, reminding Norah of her earlier days when she was Datro’s Sprite and used to rescue changelings in just such a way. Pup, for his part, took it all gallantly, and never commented on their strange mode of travel. Breyan was much harsher with him than Norah was, moving so fast that the mortal Sprite had trouble keeping his head above water. Norah, gliding along effortlessly beside the two, was appalled and worried for her friend.

‘Don’t drown him,’ she scolded, when Pup accidentally swallowed a mouthful of river water. ‘He needs to breathe.’

Breyan tilted his head to the side and grinned. ‘I know,’ he sent back. ‘I won’t.’

But he didn’t slow down and Norah could have sworn he deliberately swam too deeply so that Pup would get dunked every so often. It was a petty game, and dangerous.

Norah led them through Datro’s harbor to the small beach by her old school, since it was what was most familiar to her. Pup threw himself down on the sand and panted. He rolled over and grinned. “That,” he said between breaths, “was amazing!”

Norah’s eyes widened, but Breyan grinned right back. “I thought so too,” he said, throwing himself down next to Pup. He closed his eyes. “I begin to see the attraction of this world. Our rivers are not so . . . unpredictable. It was fun.”

Norah stared at Breyan. She’d forgotten that this was his first visit to the mortal world. Was the river truly so different that he had had trouble keeping a smooth pace? Breyan’s eyes met hers, and they twinkled merrily, but he kept silent, inside and out, letting her believe what she would.

After dark, they moved cautiously away from the river. None of them could afford to be seen by the locals, as they would be mistaken for mutants immediately. Of the three, only Norah was familiar with Datro. Pup had vague memories of it from his early childhood, but he had no true sense of the city at all. Norah, with her experience in sneaking out of school with Will and Roselle, became their leader as they moved cautiously through the darkened streets. Norah figured her grandfather would have brought Adam to his home. In her heart, she believed her grandfather had taken Adam to be a replacement for her, whether or not her brother willed it. Her parents had already told him he couldn’t have Adam, but Avery was a man who did not readily accept no for an answer, as Norah well knew.

In Datro’s dark streets, the tables were turned and Pup supported a suddenly gray and trembling Breyan. Norah glanced at Breyan anxiously. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, although she suspected it was because of the iron. Neistah had said as much more than once.

‘Nothing,’ Breyan replied through thinned lips. ‘I did not think your city would affect me so.’

‘It’s the iron,’ Norah told him, dismayed to see the look of horror on Breyan’s face. ‘Datro has a lot of iron. Should you go back to the river and wait? Pup and I can go on ahead.’

Breyan stopped, confused. ‘The iron doesn’t bother you?’

Norah shook her head. ‘Not really. I don’t notice it most of the time. Neistah asked me that, too. He said it’s because of my human blood. He has more tolerance than most. . . .’ Norah trailed off. That meant that Breyan, a full-blooded sprite, had no tolerance for the metal at all.

Pup looked back and forth between the two of them. “What am I missing?” he asked dryly.

Laughing softly, Breyan shook his head. “Nothing,” he said out loud. “I’m not as weak as the bright ones, at least. I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

There it was again. The bright ones—like Rellan? What was the difference between his kind and Breyan’s—Norah’s—kind? Were they not of the bright kind, then? If not, what were the sprites? But this was neither the time nor the place for such questions. “Come on,” she whispered, leading them both forward out of the factory districts and into the residential areas where Breyan was able to move a little easier.

The window to her old bedroom was around the back. “Wait here,” she told the boys. She shimmied up and through the window, which was as unlocked as she had left it, although her former room had been torn apart and apparently put back together. The house seemed empty. Norah ‘listened’ with more than her human senses, something she wasn’t that good at yet, but she was fairly sure the house was empty. No Grandfather. No Adam, either. Biting her lip, she poked her head out the window. “He’s not here,” she called down softly.

That meant they would have to check out Avery’s five factories, one after the other. It was more dangerous, and deadly for Breyan. He would not hear of waiting by the river for them, and reluctantly, Norah led the way to the closest of Avery’s factories, Five, where she used to work. Breyan stiffened as they came near it, and at first Norah assumed it was because of the iron sickness, but then she felt it, too, the unmistakable sense of faerie, and her heart sped up. But it wasn’t Valin who waited for them. By the deserted entrance to Factory Five, Neistah slouched in the shadows, smiling insolently.

“Idiot,” he remarked fondly, throwing his arm around Breyan, whose face, though smiling, was tinged with gray again. “I might have guessed you would be with her.”

They looked so alike, her father and her—Breyan, even to the honey brown color of the trunks they both wore. It was hard to believe that Neistah wasn’t the youth he appeared. Would she look the same in fifty years too? In one hundred? Norah’s glance took in Pup, who truly was the age he looked. In a hundred years, Pup would be dead. She swallowed; suddenly sad. Pup looked at her curiously.

“He’s inside,” Neistah told them. “Valin followed them this far but he could go no further. Avery has Adam chained with iron to make sure we could not touch him.” Neistah glanced briefly at Pup, gauging the changeling’s reaction. Pup slowly nodded, remembering Breyan’s sudden sickness when they went through the factory district the first time, and again now as they stood before Five. Neistah took a risk it probably wasn’t his to take in letting a mortal know their weakness, but Pup was one of his Sprites, the first, and Neistah had known the boy since he was small. If they were to do this thing, then they needed Pup to understand what was at stake.

“What about guards?” Pup queried. It was unusual, even this late at night, to see no guards at all, considering Avery had a prisoner inside the factory, even if that prisoner was his own grandson. Chains! That was barbaric.

Neistah grinned, and nodded with his head towards the deeper shadows behind him. There were guards, three, all staring directly ahead and seeing nothing at all. “Sleeping,” Neistah said gleefully. “Shall we go in?”

“Is Grandfather with him?” Norah asked. Avery had not been at the house.

“Leave your grandfather to us,” Neistah said, indicating himself and Breyan. “You go with Pup and take those chains off your brother. We’ll meet you back in front.”

“But Breyan can’t—“

Breyan put his hands on both sides of Norah’s face. “I am stronger than you think,” he said softly, giving her a little kiss. “Our children will be stronger still.”

Oh! Norah’s face flamed, and she caught Pup eying her speculatively. Breyan was so sure she would choose him. He’d said that last out loud for Pup’s sake. She grabbed Pup’s hand and asked her father, “Where?”

Neistah pointed to a lit window on the ground floor, towards the back. Norah knew the place. It was where the big vats that held molten metal were stored. Those vats were kept heated day and night, usually tended by a night crewman who slept in an alcove nearby, for the heat was intense. If Adam was in there, he must be miserable!

She ran with Pup down the deserted center room which went up three stories, barely registering that Neistah and Breyan sprinted up the side stairs to her grandfather’s third-floor office. The heat from the vats hit them as they neared the far end, and Pup pushed Norah behind him so that he would be the first one to enter the second, smaller area. Norah felt sick to her stomach, which until she had learned about the sprites’ aversion to iron, she had always attributed to the stench in here. She hoped Breyan was all right—Neistah wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

“Over here.” Pup called from the far end of the room. Adam wasn’t actually in the room with the molten metal; he was on the cot in the attendant’s little alcove, which had its own small window to the outside, too small to fit through, but large enough to let in fresh, cooler air. He was sleeping on a cot, face to the wall. Iron chains clamped his legs and wrists, although they were long enough to give him room to move about.

“Adam, wake up!” Norah shook her brother gently, glad to see that, apart from the chains, he looked unharmed.

Pup looked around the area for something to use to remove the chains as Adam opened his eyes, bewildered to see them there. “Norah!” He sat up and threw his arms, chains and all, around his sister. Norah felt a small tingling at the touch of the iron, but it didn’t burn her and it didn’t weaken her like it had Breyan. “It was Grandfather! He wanted me to stay with him, and when I told him I wouldn’t, he put me in here! Is Mack all right? What about the others?” Adam’s face creased and he tried vainly to hold back his tears.

“Shh, it’s all right. Everybody’s all right. We’re here to take you home.”

“Do you know where they keep the key for these?” Pup came around the corner, and Adam sniffed back his tears, shaking his head.

“Here.”

Both Pup and Norah spun around. Old Jonas stood in the doorway holding a key. He gave Norah a sheepish smile.

“Go ahead, take it.” Jonas’ eyes softened. “Is that really you, little Norah?” he asked, looking her up and down. “It suits you. I take it your grandfather found out you were hiding a mutation and took your brother instead? Not a very grandfatherly way to go about it.” Jonas shook his head. “I can’t close my eyes anymore. Take the key. Take the boy and go.” He stared at Pup. “You keep her safe, you hear? Her and her brother both.”

Pup took the keys from the old man and unfastened the cuffs at Adam’s wrists and ankles. He grinned, and nodded. “I will,” he replied. “Thank you.”

Surprisingly, Jonas gave Norah a quick hug before stepping aside to let them pass.

They met Neistah and Breyan in the front of the building, both of them looking smug and satisfied. “Avery won’t be following us,” Neistah said, exchanging glances with Breyan, who smirked. “It won’t last forever, unfortunately. Nothing ever does, short of death, that is, and I didn’t think you’d want us to go that far. Do you?” He quirked his eyebrows at Norah.

She quickly shook her head. Alan Avery was her grandfather, in spite of everything he had done.

Neistah bowed mockingly. “As you wish, my lady.” He turned to look at Adam. “Are you all right?”

Adam nodded. “He said he wasn’t going to hurt me, so I wasn’t really scared. I just wanted to go home.”

The three sprites had a quick, silent discussion of the best way to accomplish that. Adam had been through enough in the last few days. Norah was quite sure her brother would be traumatized if they returned by way of Datro’s river, even though Pup had insisted that he liked it.

They moved quietly through Datro’s streets as the sky lightened around them. Soon, there would be people crowding these streets. Norah suggested finding a horse and buggy to take them to the farmlands that surrounded Datro on three sides. From there, they could enter the forest, where both Pup and Neistah were familiar with the trails that led back to the Hanan lands. They left it too late, however, and an early morning milkman rounded the corner, coming upon them before they could hide. His eyes widened. “Datro’s Sprite!” he breathed.

Neistah prepared to jump up and ensnare the man in his gaze, as he had the guards the previous night; however, the milkman surprised them all by grinning widely. “Datro’s Sprites,” he corrected himself. “Rescuing another couple of mutants, are you? Well, hop on. I’ll take you as far as the city line.”

Bemused, the three sprites and their “mutants” climbed into the back of the wagon next to the milk crates. The rest of them kept Breyan in their middle, for besides the rows of crates, there were also several large metal milk containers wedged towards the front of the wagon, near the driver. Breyan looked decidedly green, but that could have been from the motion of the wagon. It was Breyan’s first trip on a mortal conveyance. They kept their heads down whenever another wagon passed, but aside from a few curious looks, the citizens of Datro mostly ignored the milkman’s wagon as it lumbered slowly out of town.

“I’ll let you out here,” the milkman said, pulling to the side of the road. Farmland stretched in front of them and far beyond that was the edge of the great forest. “If anybody asks, you tell them Martin sent you through.”

“Thank you,” Norah said, self-consciousin front of the milkman. “Martin.”

“Glad I could help,” Martin replied, before turning the wagon around and heading back the way he had come.

They trudged warily along the dirt road that cut through the farms, but it was still early and most of the farmers were hard at work in the fields, rather than out on the road. A horse thundered towards them, quickly approaching with a rider on its back. There was nowhere to go, so the group held its ground. Breyan had recovered quickly from the iron sickness, and after a silent exchange with Neistah, he crossed to the opposite side of the road as they waited for the horse and rider. If either one was accosted, the other sprite would deal with the rider. But the horse slid to a halt and a boy of perhaps twelve or thirteen stared down at them in astonishment.

“Are you Sprites?”

“Martin sent us,” Pup answered, stepping forward and boldly putting his hand to the horse’s bridle. Neistah and Breyan weren’t the only ones who knew how to take precautions. He gave a cursory glance at the horse to make sure the boy had no hidden weapons, but he looked to be just an ordinary farmboy.

“I thought that was Martin’s wagon,” the boy said, referring to a small cloud of dust in the distance. He grinned in delight. “Then you must be Sprites. Tell me,” he bent down, “have you come across a boy named Oliver with,” he put his hands over his head, “really really big ears? He’s my brother and we haven’t heard from him since he left for the forest.”

Pup shook his head slowly. “I don’t remember him, but I’ll ask. There are lots of changelings in the forest these days.” He paused. “You want your brother to come home?”

“We could really use his help,” the boy replied. “My pop doesn’t care if he’s a—changeling,” he stumbled a little over the unfamiliar word. “He’s still Oliver, and we need him. So if you see him, can you tell him to come back?”

Pup smiled. “We will. Tell me, is there anything up ahead that we should watch out for? Between here and the forest, I mean.”

The boy scratched his head. “No, nobody around here will bother you, except maybe to ask about relatives that they lost to the forest. My other brother Nate came back from the forest last fall and said it wasn’t so bad. He’s not going to hunt mutants—er, changelings—anymore, either. Neither am I—when I’m older, I mean.” The boy’s face reddened. “Well, I’ve got to go. It was nice to meet you, Sprites.” He took off at a trot as Pup let go, waving behind him.

“We should have asked him for his horse,” Adam muttered, resuming their walk.

Breyan stretched his arms above his head, then darted around Neistah to insinuate himself between Norah and Pup. “Oh, I don’t know,” he replied merrily. “I like walking in the mortal world. Lots of excitement.” He pressed a kiss on Norah’s cheek and rolled his other eye to see how Pup reacted.

Pup laughed, dodged behind him, and came up on Norah’s other side, planting his own kiss.

“Oh, this is going to be fun!” Breyan said happily.