March of the Fire: Part Seven

“All hands on deck!” I screamed as the magic thundered in the clouds above. I gave a huge gulp; at least I knew what I was facing this time. We needed to get to higher ground, I knew.

      The buildings of the city enclosed us almost as much as the forest on the Lost Isle had. But this time they were all straight, so I could not find a single place to throw my rope. I looked everywhere, trying to find a ledge or something, but nothing was in sight. That was when my eyes rested upon the boom of the Primella II. I’d done it before, but now the boom was cracked in half, sticking out of the side of the ship jaggedly like a skeletal arm missing its canvas skin.

      The wind picked up quite a bit right then. Papers and leaves began flying about, and the dirt streets formed a large cloud near the ground. The normal citizens, who had not been too interested in a large flying ship going at the speed of light crashing into the road, now looked around nervously as papers began flying all about, and someone screamed when a trash can lifted up into the air.

      “May!” Moht shouted over the storm. “What’s happening!”

      “They followed us!” I shouted back, trying to be heard. “And they brought the army! We have to get to higher ground!”

      I saw him nod, but he could have been trying to shake his head and the wind had just made it look like that.

      I glanced over to try and find everyone else. It looked like Lillian had finally woken the captain up, and Roxton, Clara and Kerlie had been trying to get a bunch of crates off of the ship. They all looked up at the same instant, and now all worried.

      The sky was the colour of death. Clouds scurried about in swirling formations, hurrying away from the battle that was about to happen. But I knew, and the clouds probably knew it too, we weren’t going to win.

      As I began yanking the rope out of my bag, I suddenly felt a presence near my shoulder. I looked over at it, wind and dirt swirling around my ankles, and found myself face to face with a faerie.

      She was about the length of my paw with long flowing hair, but the light around her blinded me from seeing her true features. The light she radiated was not soft, but rather a harsh force that hurt your eyes to look directly at it.

      Suddenly her glow increased and grew, until standing before me there was a full sized faerie. She was not particularly tall, with wavy blond hair and perfect forget-me-not blue eyes. It seemed that she was a light faerie, due to her translucent yellow wings. She, like the rest of the members of the Fyr, wore the same crimson uniform, except with plenty of random badges. In her eyes radiated a deep fury, a silent burning anger.

      “I suspect,” she said, her voice changing over and over again, and I realized that I was face to face with the leader of the Fyr, “that we should duel?”

      “Um, I’m not really quite sure? Everyone says that I’m supposed to be some kind of huntress, so I guess?”

      The ruler of the Fyr shook her head. “You could hardly be the huntress. I did not think that you would have read the exact text of the prophecy, but if you had, you would have found that the last line is, 'The month is over.'”

      “Well, what does that have to do with anything?” I wondered. “It’s only the middle of March!”

      The faerie began circling me. “I believe,” she began, “that the March of the Fyr shall never end. But May will. I am the huntress, and you are the prey.” With that, she immediately cast a fireball in my direction. I dodged out of the way just in time as the ground below me exploded with fire. I scrambled towards the ship as the rest of the army practically began falling out of the clouds.

      They landed on the ground and began wreaking havoc, pets running for safety and shelter. There were easily five hundred soldiers amongst their ranks, but that was not what amazed me. It was the sheer variety. There was everything from pea Chias to Tyrannian Lupes, from faeries to your average pet, to wizards, to children, to elderly, everything you could ever imagine. I think I even spotted a couple of petpets once.

      I crawled under the wreck of the Primella, and watched as buildings were burned, as pets were trampled. I could have just stayed there and watched the horror, but something burned inside of me as I watched the horrible spectacle. I felt that, maybe, if I could do something, I might be able to stop this.

      The faerie stalked through the commotion, obviously looking for me. “Hey, ugly!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, popping out from beneath the ship, “Come and get me!” I tossed my rope over the boom of the ship, and, with a running start, swung up into the air.

      I know that I’ve said this before, but I love flying through the air. Maybe it’s because most Wockies don’t ever get to, but there’s something about having the wind through your air, breeze hitting you full on in the face, that makes you feel free. But I didn’t have time to savour the moment, no, for I stuck my legs out to brace my hitting the mast.

      I was easily fifteen feet off the ground, but I still had to climb a bit more to reach the boom. Of course, I didn’t exactly expect the faerie to be there.

      “Who are you?” I asked her.

      “I am the leader of the Fyr,” she said simply.

      “But what is your name, and what kind of faerie are you, and-” but I was cut off by a small voice below us.

      “Yyro?” asked Gaviella.

      The faerie stared at my friend in alarm. “I did not know that you were here, honey,” she said in her sweetest voice. “But I am not Yyro. Yyro is dead.”

      “Yyro is alive and well, but you are the one who cursed me, not her.”

      Rermia’s jaw dropped. “You mean to tell me,” she asked the pink Gelert, “that my twin sister has taken my blame?”

      Gaviella nodded. “That is what it seems to be.”

      “Wait, Gaviella,” I said down to her. “Who is the huntress?”

      Gaviella sighed. “For the last time, Artemis is the huntress! Gosh, how many times do you want me to repeat myself?”

      “Wait, whoa whoa, who’s Artemis?” I asked, looking behind myself down at her, and turning around from Rermia. I guess that you could say that this was probably one of my worst mistakes that day. I was immediately hit in the back with a large blast of magic and flopped down onto the boom. I could have fallen off, but I gripped the wood, my knuckles turning white.

      I turned my head around, just in time to see Rermia about to blast me with more magic. “Wait!” I shouted, and stood up quickly, “How is this fair? I mean, how honourable is it to blast a small child to pieces with magic that she most certainly doesn’t have?”

      “You mean to say that you do not have any magic?” she asked me and I nodded, “Well, if you think that lying will make me go easier on you, I am not ignorant! I see that you hold a magical artefact on you.”

      “Where?” I asked, only to see Rermia begin to summon some magic about herself. She hurled it at me, and I whipped my stick into the air as to block it. It glowed golden for a second, and then resumed its normal wooden self.

      Whoa, cool! Magic stick! I thought to myself. Rermia grimaced, but then cast about twenty fireballs in my direction. I dodged most of them and whacked one out of the way with my stick. I couldn’t actually cast any magic with my stick I realized then, which meant that I would just have to defend myself until... well, I guessed I would get to that when I got there.

      Once or twice I glanced below myself at the din below me. I could see most everyone of our crew, save Kerlie, Jordie and the captain. Most everyone was fighting, and I spotted the really tall fire faerie battling Clara once. Despite our great effort, I knew that we were losing.

      Rermia quickly cast yet another fireball, which I dodged, only to have a different blast of magic hit my side. I lost my balance and fell off of the boom.

      I stretched out my arm, and was lucky enough to grab hold of the boom.

      Rermia flew down next to me. “Did you really think,” she asked me, “that I could be defeated by a mere child?”

      Suddenly, a loud fluttering sound filled my ears. It seemed to be coming from behind me, but I couldn’t seem to crane my neck around to see what it was. That was when a voice came from the direction of the fluttering.

      “Sister!” a feminine but deep voice rang out from behind me, and as I tried to look over my shoulder, I saw a burning light. “Stop tormenting this poor child.”

     Rermia’s mouth fell open, and she seemed not to have anything to say. “I can take care of myself perfectly fine, thank you very much,” I said to the creature, which I assumed to be faerie, and worked on getting my other hand onto the boom. I had really been trying to convince myself that I could get out of this, but it seemed that the faerie behind me had different idea, as she grabbed me with amazing strength from under my armpits and lifted me up onto the boom.

     I whirled around, rather annoyed, to find myself face to face with Rermia. Or someone who looked exactly like her, except wearing a tattered light faerie dress and a long scar running down the side of her face. I heard the real Rermia land behind me, and I turned to look between the two of them.

     “Yyro,” whispered Rermia hoarsely, “I thought you were dead.”

     The one in the tattered dress, who I was guessing was Yyro, said, “Rermia. It has been, what, fourteen years now?” That was a year before I had been born. Actually, now that I thought of it, I realized that I had only been a year old when Clara and Roxton had first gotten trapped in the time warp.

     “But,” said Rermia, her voice cracking, in what feeling I was unsure of, for it continued to change, “I was certain that you had been captured by Balthazar so very long ago.”

     “I was saved,” she said, “by that young Gelert’s parents. And you cursed her. I was forced to take your blame, and then again when you used my name as your fake name in the Fyr. I was persecuted and banished, all because of you!” Yyro seemed to turn slightly red in anger. Unlike her sister, I could actually tell what she felt, and it was as clear as daylight.

     “I really didn’t know,” said Rermia. “I really thought you were dead, and used your name to honour you. Please, sister, do not be too mad at me. I know that you always took the blame, even when we were younger and I broke that Shenkuuian vase of Mother’s, but please, forgive me.”

     “Rermia, I could not forgive you even if I wanted to, sister or no. Even if I wasn’t taking the blame for everything, I, and the rest of the faeries, would be unable to forgive you for what you have done.”

     “Can someone please explain to me exactly what’s going on right now?” I asked, and the two of them looked back at me, remembering my presence for the first time since the beginning of their absolutely fascinating discussion.

     Rermia gave me a glare, as if to say, “We’re having a moment here, please leave!” but actually ended up saying a whole lot harsher. “Child, you do understand that you are probably going to die today, so your life is no longer significant.”

     “Rermia!” scolded her sister. “Every life matters!”

     “That is where you are wrong yet again,” she pointed out. “Neither nothing nor no one stands in my way to victory. And child, I see in your mind that you are very confused, but it should hardly matter to you. No matter how many times I will tell you, you must understand that there is nothing you can do to change your fate.”

     With these harsh words, a whirling ball of magic collided with me, and I lost my balance. I fell off the boom, and watched the sky fall away from me, my hair streaming upwards.

     So this was how I was to meet my fate, colliding with the ground at a million miles an hour, squashed like a trinana. Wonderful. The two faeries seemed to be ascending into the clouds, and it felt like the wind was at my back. I really thought that Mayella Chester was going to die. And she did. But I am still alive.

     I felt something, like a warm presence, pushing me up, and stopping my descent. It set me down on the deck of the ship, and I realized that this must have been Yyro’s doing.

     I could see the identical twin faeries in a fierce argument, perhaps over my survival or something else. I was unable to catch most of what they said, though I did hear a few words. “Banished,” and “Fyora” were the two words that I caught most of the time, but I did catch two words that I did not know: “Illisisy” and “Artemis.”

     The two of them flew at each other in an angry rage, and it was all that I could do to watch them, swords drawn, as they collided against each other. I’m really not quite sure what happened to them, for a blinding flash of light infiltrated my vision. When I brought my arm away from shielding my face, all that remained were two swords and faerie dust, blowing through the wind.

     I found myself turning back towards the crowd. Only then did I realize how little was accomplished from the destruction of their leader. There was no clouds clearing, no sky brightening, no cliché bowing as I was like, “Hey guys, stop fighting! Rermia’s gone!” Nope. They kept right on fighting, like nothing had happened. Of all things, a martyr had been created, which would only fuel their wish for revenge upon the rest of Neopia. And so, my grip tightening on my magical stick, I joined the fight.

      I gave a cry, and sprinted into the crowd of angry pets who only wanted revenge. Revenge on bullies, revenge on siblings, revenge on old enemies. And maybe, if I actually made it out of this, me as well.

      The first pet I was confronted with was a yellow Tuskaninny with orange hair. Like the rest of the army, he wore the classic uniform, except that he also held a spear in one of his flippers. He charged at me, or tried to, as he did have flippers after all. I ignored him, looking for a different opponent.

      That was when I heard a Whoosh! go by my ear. I spun around quickly, only to find myself, yet again, face to face with that really tall faerie.

      “Let’s try this again,” she said with a sigh. “I’m taller than you and certainly not a child, and you certainly don’t seem to be able to hunt anything any time soon, so simple deduction: me huntress, you child I’m supposed to kill. Only the huntress should make it out of this, if the prophecy was interpreted right of course, but the child dies. So let’s keep this simple, shall we?”

      “Who are you?” I asked her, changing the subject in hopes of getting away.

      “Ah, so you wish to know who your demise is? That would be the master of spies, Jessalia Wick!”

      “You’re Evre’s sister?” I said in surprise, slowly backing into the Tuskaninny, who shouted at me, waving his spear in the air. I jumped forwards and almost into Jessalia’s sword.

      “Yes, I guessed that you had met my bumbling sister. That child certainly does not understand the concept of 'Secret Organization' as she has blabbered everything about us to you that you should ever need to know. And now, since you must know magic, we duel.”

      As she began collecting magic in the palm of her hand, I readied myself with my stick in hand. But suddenly a thought struck me, as I was experiencing some serious déjà vu from a couple of minutes ago. “You know, I think that the whole huntress battle happened to me,” I said, and Jessalia eyed me. “I already did defeat Rermia, y’know.”

      Jessalia stared at me in surprise. “Then you most certainly cannot be the child, for the child is supposed to be innocent of all blame.”

      “Maybe I was,” I said, “once. When I was only your average orphan with nothing to live for. But I’ve learned something over these past few days. Everyone has something to live for. I’m not losing my one chance.”

      “Hmm,” said Jessalia. “Perhaps you are not the child. Well, that doesn’t mean that you won’t die anyways.” I raised my stick as fast as I could as the first fire ball flew at me. They rampaged, flying at me faster then they had before, and I jumped, ducked, spun, as if in some kind of crazy dance. And you know what? As scary as it was, I actually felt kind of happy, as if this was where I belonged, and this was what I was meant to be doing.

      All could have gone on fine and dandy for a while, but I suspect that you have to acknowledge the fact that we were in a closely packed crowd. For though I could dodge the fire speeding at me, others couldn’t. There were shouts behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to see that a tree had caught on fire, and pets and faeries were running and screaming.

      As the fire spread, a couple of water faeries had joined together with the Neopia Central Fire Department (NCFD) to try and put it out. But the magical fire kept spreading, and I gave a shout as a flame licked my boot.

      I guess my shout brought the angry fire faerie back to reality, and she looked at the tree in horror. She paused; her mouth and eyes wide open, and then, with a flick of her wrist, disappeared. I looked about, only to see that others in the Fyr were disappearing as well, in puffs of smoke.

      I kept looking about myself, and gasped as the S.S. Primella caught aflame as well. The captain was certainly not going to be happy about that. That was when I saw Jessalia again, standing on the ship, overseeing the safety of the army. I sprinted towards her, probably in a rather foolhardy manner, but nevertheless climbed aboard the ship.

      “Our battle wasn’t over, you Peadackle!” I shouted.

      “Oh, you’re just sore because you lost!” she shouted at me over the roaring flames that leaped like graceless ballerinas. In response I stuck my tongue out at her.

      “You just called a retreat because your leader is dead!” I exclaimed, and hefted my sword.

      “We just need to regroup is all!” she said, seemingly offended.

      I waved my stick at her, using it like a weapon. She looked like she was about to throw another fireball at me, but quickly thought better of it. She glanced over her shoulder, back at the ground, and smiled. “Well, that’s the last of them, so I guess I’m off then.”

      She cackled, and I feared that she might vanish like the rest. No, I thought, that won’t happen. I did the first thing that popped into my mind: I stepped on her toe. Hiking boots + bare feet=pain, or so I have learned now. She howled, hopping backwards, and tripped over the edge of the boat, falling into the flames below.

      I ran to the railing, and looked down. All that remained was the fire itself, and I wondered what had actually happened to Jessalia.

      I looked up at the dark sky, and as if in response, it began to rain. And then I learned the truth.

      Only the tears of hard work can triumph in the end. Rain over fire, quenching its thirst, work over revenge. I may still have no idea of what had happened to the Fyr, but man, since then, my life has gotten a whole lot better.

To be continued...