The Skarlose Requiem

THE SKARLOSE REQUIEM -

Flowrlae Enraged

CHAPTER ONE

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The Flowrlae Shimmerpatch

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There weren't always Dragons in the Valley. During the centuries, some used to be here on and off again. And then they were not.

Later, Skarlose arrived. Now, THAT has become a problem.

Decades ago the last Dragon here went... somewhere else. And that was just fine with the Flowrlae. The Flowrlae had never much minded it when the Dragons were here. They really did not pay much attention to anything outside their Meadow in the Valley.

The Flowrlae were among the smallest of pixies, most barely an inch tall. They lived mostly in meadows, always flitting about on their own personal errands. Usually it was to find food - catching aphids and other small insects, gathering pollen to make pollencakes, or searching for their most favorite ingredient - honey. Honey helped make the most exceptional pollencake! It was superior to regular tree sap, even the maple sap. (Some very few had the rather nasty appetite for using animal blood as a pollencake binder. One could always tell which THOSE cakes were because of the reddish tint of the cakes.)

Sometimes one saw a Flowrlae flying with two leafbags to fetch water. Always two, because trying to fly holding one in front of them was ungainly. Two, balanced on either side, though heavier, made for a more even and graceful flight path.

The rest of the time the Flowrlae were going and coming to flock together for revelry. To be Flowrlae was to be socially active. Music was an important part of Flowrlae life. They would blow upon reed pipes made of grass stems, accompanied by drummings against beetle carapace shells. Dancing was also an important expression, whether on the ground or in flight. Flowrlae were lightfooted whether dancing or not. They would dance with their wings afflutter, the irridescent scales sparkling in the evening sunlight. When dusk came and went, the dancing would continue by firefly light. This would give an otherworldy hue to their shining wings. Some Flowrlae spent their time training fireflies to stay around one small area just so the dancing could continue long after the sun set.

Sometime between the midnight and the dawn, they would give their goodbyes and retire to their shimmerplants to sleep a few hours until the morning dew was fresh upon the landscape. The shimmerplants grew wild throughout the meadows of the Valley, even extending under the canopy edge of the forests. The brilliant white tulipish flower stood wide open during the day, creating a brightly dotted landscape under a shining sun. The bloom closed at dusk for the night. Its purple stamines curled into a tight circle at the bottom of the bloom at closing, which made for a most comfortable bed - although some Flowrlae would add just a bit of fresh moss to soften it even a bit more. Though closed, a Flowrlae had but to tickle the stem at the base of the bloom to entice the petals to relax just enough that a Flowrlae could wriggle his or her way inside.

Most Flowrlae had their own individual shimmerplant. Many, however, shared one with their favorite partner, curled together in snuggled bliss. This was also where Flowrlae couples would bud an offspring, spending perhaps a week together in the early spring. The shimmerplant would remain closed during this time, and all could know that the couple was not to be disturbed, lest the bud become malformed at birth.

A bud would begin as a small grub-like worm which, as the humans might say, only a mother could love. The body would actually be more akin to a caterpiller without legs. In a few days, a face would develop at one end, but with no feelers, yet. Once the mouth could take food - sap or honey, usually - the parents could leave the bloomnest to gather food for the bud and pursue their other normal duties, but always returning at night to snuggle together with the bud and each other. While the parents were away the shimmer bloomnest would only partially open during the day to help protect the bud. After three months, the bud would shed its outer body, revealing a small, fully-formed Flowrlae - complete with newly sprouted feeler antenae.

Did I mention something about Dragons?

The Flowrlae cared not about any of the other creatures of the woods and meadows, mostly because, being so small and living so out of the way, they had little opportunity to encounter and interact with any other Folk - whether Fae or not. Dragons were just some BIG CREATURE that did not come their way and were, therefore, of no concern. Out of sight, out of mind. No overstep, no bother. The Flowrlae heard stories over time from the rare traveller. News of the Outside World made its way to them slowly and not often. But once told, it travelled as fast as a Flowrlae could flit from one shimmerplant patch community to another throughout the separate meadowlands in the Valley.

Juniper was just leaving the small stream that served as his community's main water source. His leafbags were large and overladen to the point that some of the water sloshed out past the top petalflaps. It was a strain, but Juniper was a strapping large Flowrlae, almost an eighth of an inch taller than most of his brethen. He was a strong one as well and balanced the load with what looked like deceptive ease. (It was not really THAT easy, but his pride would not let anyone THINK that it was anything other than very easy for HIM.) His mind wandered a bit as he flew back towards the shimmerflower he shared with his chosen mate Mayflower. He wondered what food she would be trying to fetch for Bud.(That is how most parents refered to their offspring until they had metamorphorsed into a fully fledged Flowrlae. Then they would be given both a True Name, and a Known Name in an elaborate ceremony, and be accepted fully as a member of the tribe.)

It was then that he sensed THEM.

Flowrlae had an excellent sense of smell, better than most Fae. It was a major survival trait that helped keep them out of harm's way. Or harm out of the community. Sometimes grazing wild beasts would stray too close to the settlements and they would swarm to annoyingly attack the otherwise inoffensive beasts, driving them off lest they clumsily trample through bloomfields and harm any buds they were protecting.

What he smelled was akin to burnt cinnamon and sulfur, with an undercurrent of rotted mushroom.

Redcaps! The worst kind of Fae. Malevolent tricksters. Unscrupulous thieves. Hated and despised by almost all other Fae regardless of size or orientation. Redcaps would descend upon communities of Fae, human, chork or any other breed and wreak havoc upon fields, homes, storehouses, construction projects or whatever was in their way. Sometimes evil individuals, if they were powerful enough (or DUMB enough, when they were not, but THOUGHT that they were powerful enough) would try to engage the services of Redcaps for some nefarious deed. That might be malign mischief, or theft, all the up to assassination. It mattered not to the Redcaps. They did not need to be PAID to do evil deeds - they enjoyed it for its own sake. To be paid to do what came to them naturally was only "good business" in their minds.

Juniper dropped his waterload and zipped skyward to get a better sense of the situation. Looking about, sniffing the air, he spotted them to the north of the community, headed to it from downwind. Juniper was to the east side of their approach and it was by Fae Luck that he had been able to notice their presence in the area at all. Redcaps are around two feet tall. He could not see the Redcaps directly, but he could see the wake they created in the tall meadowgrass as they slowly and quietly made their way forward. He also saw a few smaller disturbances ahead and to either side. Single Redcaps were scouting at the forward edges of their travel.

This was no random encounter. This was a planned attack upon the community!

Juniper snatched his snailhorn from his belt and blew it loudly. The high pitched squeal of the snailhorn was at a pitch higher than most creatures' hearing. Even the dogs humans kept as companions and guards could not hear it. But, the Flowrlae could hear it easily and they would respond quickly. Though a snailhorn was used to communicate over long distances - up to a human mile - none blew a warning signal without reason. Juniper blew a stacato series of notes describing the attack. "Redcaps. Village North. Attack formation. Side Striders. Defend Village."

Other snailhorns took up repeating the call, acknowledging that his message had been heard, as well as passing it along past the boundaries of the community to alert those farther away. Those others would now begin rushing to aid the community's defense.

Juniper noticed one of the Redcap outwalkers was now out of the tall grass near the edge of one of the shimmerplant patches. He flew at top speed towards the offending Fae. As he neared, he began to make out his individual features. A short Fae with a stout, stocky body with leathered skin. There was certain to be what most would consider undersized feet for the build, but those were hidden within the grass. It was certainly a male from the large head. (Females heads were smaller, and they did not usually venture forth into the world from their underground warrens.) The ears were oversized, a large thick bushy unibrow shadowed his eyes, his nose was pitted and quite bulbous, and the left check was scared from not one, but two blade cuts.

Juniper knew this particular Redcap. What was more, he knew his True Name.

A True Name is inextricably linked to the soul of a creature. It held Power. To know a creature's True Name was to hold some extent of control of that Power over that creature. To start, by reciting a creature's True Name, one could compel it to truthfully answer three questions. Juniper flew directly in front of the Redcap. He intended to use every bit of that Power that he could.

"FellFall DryWell WormwoodEater DryadSlayer!" Juniper yelled, pitching his voice the lowest he could go in order to guarantee the Redcap could hear him. Knowing and reciting a True Name did no good unless the target could actually hear it being said against him.

The Redcap immediately halted in his tracks - another benefit of the True Name being spoken. The target had to give you his complete attention for those few brief moments.

FellFall squinted his eyes to focus on the miniscule opponent hovering a meer foot in front of his face. It was close enough to easily swat away like any annoying gnat, but the Geas of the True Name was upon him and he could nothing against this adversary - for the moment. After an intense, momentary examination, his face expressed some recognition. "Unwell, unwell, unwell," he finally choked out. "Is this little Juniper that flits before my eyes?" He grinned menacingly, in remembrance of a past encounter. A human village, far from here. The consequences had not turned out well for him. His only happiness in regards to that time was in not encountering this particular Flowrlae at any time since then. But now that they were finally face to face again, FellFall was intending to ensure this meeting had a much happier outcome from his point of view.

The target of a True Name Calling could talk as much as they wanted, ask as many questions as they wanted. Such was the normalcy of Free Will. The Caller of a True Name could talk as much as well, but were limited to only three questions which the target would be compelled to answer truthfully. Anything past that, the truthfulness or falsity of the answers was totally up to the choice of the target.

Juniper knew he had to be careful of the questions he asked.

"This is no random attack upon our community, he began. "This was planned. Something normally beyond Redcap intellect. Who sent you?"

Without batting an eye FellFall replied, "Skarlose sent us."

"Skarlose?" Juniper immediately cursed himself. He had just wasted his second question. It had slipped past his lips without thinking. FellFall's answer had so surprised him he had lost track of his line of questioning. He had only one more truthful answer to get out of this Redcap.

"Skarlose the Mad," FellFall answered by explanation. "The Blood Sorceror powerful enough to become Almost-Dragon."

Juniper had heard of Skarlose. Bits and piece of his story had long circulated about the world, reaching even the wildlands of the Valley where the Flowrlae lived with their shimmerplants. Skarlose was a Blood Sorceror. It was mostly agreed that Blood Sorcerors were usually a Bad Thing. And Skarlose was perhaps the worst of them.

Whereas most wizards drew their power from memorizing spells, or were given spell powers from Unnatural Beings in trade for services - or their very souls. Blood Sorcerors took their power through the blood sacrifices of magical creatures by drinking their blood. Whether Basilix, Fae, Trolle, or Unicorns, it did not matter - though the type of magic gained was dependant upon the creature sacrificed. Dragons were extremely magically powerful, thus their blood was exceptionally potent. Skarlose was said to have captured a Fire Dragon - one of the more common breeds to be sure - and kept it until he had slowly bled it to death. It was rumored to have been a very large and old Dragon. Having imbibed on its whole body of blood, it was said Skarlose had become one of the most powerful sorcerors ever in the world. Fearing for their own safety, other wizards and magic users had forced him out of the civilized areas and into the Wilderness. It was rumored that he had found a secret refuge near here, somewhere in the mountains surrounding the Valley. It was also said that the Dragon blood had changed his form until he almost WAS like a Dragon.

Remembering this, Juniper's thoughts raced through the choices for his final question. Where did all these Redcaps come from? How did Skarlose bribe them or force their service? Where were they bound for from here? How many Redcaps were there in this attack upon the community? Most of these had answers which would either become quickly obvious or held little relevance to Juniper's mind.

"Why are you attacking us? What is there here for you to take?" Admittedly, this made two questions, which although FellFall could now choose which to answer, the answers would essentially be the same. Juniper asked these as it made no sense for a Dragon Sorceror to hire out a group of Redcaps just to sow destruction on a small community of tiny Fae.

"Buds," came the reply. "Skarlose needs buds." And with that, FellFall grinned evilly. He knew the Geas of the True Name had almost run its course. His revenge would be quite sweet. Almost as sweet as the flesh rending consumption of a blood-dripping, screaming human baby in its last moments.

Buds! They were here for the buds. But, what would Skarlose need... No matter. Juniper only had a moment to complete the final action of the Geas before its power was expended. He could give one Command which FellFall would absolutely have to obey - though it could not make him do something against his will to survive, something that would put him in immediate mortal danger. Even the Geas of True Name was not powerful enough to overcome that aspect of Free Will.

Thinking quickly, Juniper mustered his full Force of Will and sent it through the Geas.

"Leave this area immediately, never to return, speaking of this location to no one, ever - but only after maiming as many of your brethen as possible."

The Command had to be limited to one sentence, though it could be extremely compound - in effect, a run-on sentence. The injuring of the other Redcaps had to be phrased to allow FellFall the option to cease his attack once he was in mortal danger from their retaliation. Otherwise the Geas Command would be void. But Juniper knew FellFall to be among the most sneakiest, most unscrupulous, most deceptive of Redcaps. He prefered to attack from behind unseen, unnoticed. In the pitch of conflict, Juniper was sure that FellFall would be able to wound, perhaps incapacitate many of his fellows and then slip away before many of them realized they were being attacked by one of their own - and turn against him. Afterward, he would leave and never again be a problem to Juniper's community.

The Flowrlae might be among the smallest of the Fae, but were by no means the dumbest. They could put extending effects into their spells with the best of them.

FellFall knew in his black heart that Juniper had once again gotten the best of him. Knew that he would see no revenge this day - nor likely any other. When he had first encountered Juniper in that small far away town alley years ago, he did not know who Juniper was, nor where he was from. It had been only by Fate his cohort had been sent to search for Flowrlae communities within the shimmerplant wildbeds in this part of the Valley. He turned to carry off the Geas, staying low to the ground to be unnoticed by his companions - until it was too late for them to do anything about it. Being forced to do something did not make him happy. But, killing and hurting folk were his prime nature, something he relished doing, even against his own kind. He did have a couple coins of advance payment from the sorceror - so this little adventure wouldn't be a complete total loss. FellFall smiled as he crept round and behind his first victim...

Juniper paused to watch FellFall go. He watched him creep behind one of his fellows and then lunge for his neck, dragging him to the ground out of sight from the others. Anyway, the other Redcaps were all far more attentive to the Flowrlae that were now attacking them from the fronts and sides. Only then did Juniper spin in midair and make for the shimmerplant wildbed. To his shimmernest at the southwest edge. To Bud.

His course intersected with Mayflower. She had been gathering honey from her favored honeytree to the north of the Meadow. She maintained that the bees there made THE sweetest honey in the area - a claim much debated amongst other Flowrlae who argued that THEIR favored spot was MUCH sweeter. Only the tasting of the resulting pollencakes could ever resolve that dispute. Yet, even after years of baking multiple batches of the little cakes in the bright, strong sunshine, there was still argument over whose statement held the Truth...

She had flown over the battle happening amongst the shimmerplants. She saw the other brave Flowrlae flitting about the enemy, hurling porcupine spears at their faces, necks arms - any exposed flesh. Most would have been dipped in hornet venom, skunk-acid or magically enhanced poison ivy. She felt no regret in not stopping to join the fray. Flowrlae believed that protecting the buds was the highest calling, so she kept flying directly to her shared shimmernest where Bud lay.

They looked at each other, both faces showing dread. That same parental look of worry held by all who ever had an offspring in danger. They fluttered quickly down to their shimmerplant and were horrified at the sight.

The protective petals were torn asunder.

The bloomnest was empty!