Wanderlust

Arcadia, Fae Wilds

Near Los Angeles, California

4:06 AM

Pixie-Blade marched the wayward trails of Faerie, her eyes unfocused, her mind still dreaming. Clad in her trademark green and brown leather armor, she moved stealthily, the breeze playing at her whims, her cold, blue skin reflecting ethereal in the scattered moonlight. At her waist, glowing with suppressed power, rested the Moon-Fire blades, heavy chain weapons Pixie had spent lifetimes mastering in the Great Arena of Arcadius. Her frosty skin and breath chilled the air where she passed, and her mere touch brought winter's death to vines and brambles in her way.

Sleepwalking, Pixie-Blade crept from the relative safety of the human world back to the unpredictable, predatory lands of her birth. She dreamt of the lush forest surrounding the Ludus, the gladiatorial compound she’d been raised in, the sounds of drums and battle just over the next ridge of trees. In her mind, Pixie-Blade was close, and her father, Lord Gaius, Lanista Fae, and Trainer of Champions was waiting with open arms to welcome her back home.

“Home…” Pixie-Blade mumbled, pausing at a large tree.

She stared glassy-eyed at a field of green swaying beneath the moons flickering glow, then turned abruptly and stepped off the path, wading in as though it were water, hands outstretched to feel the tall grass on her ice-covered skin.

Virgil Beaumanoir landed silently in the branches high above Pixie, watching his friend, ally, and love of his life, stride through the open fields of Faerie. She was sleepwalking again, Virgil knew, blissfully unaware of her surroundings. The wilds of Arcadia were a dangerous place, full of predators and things that might as well be gods, and Pixie-Blade's power was like a beacon to them. Virgil held Vigilance, his deadly two-handed reaper scythe, in his left hand, balancing effortlessly on an outstretched branch. He pulled a porcelain mask over his face, locking in his flawless beauty, and leapt from the tree, stepping on leaves in the air as if they were stones in a stream.

Through the tall grass, Pixie-Blade strode, interpreting the tickle against her skin as the fingers of her outstretched fans. She passed unharmed through tangles of thorns and danced under branches that stretched for her like claws, making her way towards a quiet, tranquil pond that beckoned to her. In her mind, Pixie-Blade stood once more before the Great Arena, and, though the night was silent, she turned in circles, her eyes closed, soaking up the roar of the crowd once again.

Virgil flitted through the air, leaping from one impossible foothold to the next. The laws of reality had no effect on the alabaster-skinned warrior, and Virgil landed gracefully on a fruit tree overlooking the pond. Through the slits in his mask, Virgil the Vigilant watched as Pixie-Blade took what she believed were her returning first steps on coliseum sands. He tucked his scythe close and crouched low, careful to mask his aura lest he wake Pixie.

‘So unbelievably beautiful,’ Virgil thought.

Pixie-Blade straightened her shoulders, weapons in hand, and then began to march forward, the tranquil waters freezing beneath her every step. She marched like a war goddess, proud and haughty, the eyes of thousands upon her in her mind. The pond had only enough time to ripple on the first impact before Pixie’s power swept through it. It grew more solid by the second, spreading thirty yards in all directions, and in moments, Pixie-Blade took center stage on the ice, playing to the crowd in her mind.

In this moonlit clearing, where once there’d been a simple, mystical pond, surrounded by trees and tall grass, now sat an ice rink, a single dancer upon its rough, glistening surface.

Mist rose from the frozen pond, and Pixie-Blade raised her weapons to the heavens, searching for the one she wished to lay eyes upon most, searching, as always, for Gaius. Her long ice-locks twinkled like starlight and chimes, and her Arcadian aura shone wild and true, marking her as one of the Changed. The frozen pond creaked and groaned, condemned to its solid-state, but another sound was building, low and steady, and it emanated from Pixie-Blade without her knowing.

‘War drums,’ Virgil noted, rising from his crouch.

Though Virgil was light and well-practiced in the ways of stealth, he was not perfect, and his weight shifted slightly as he rose. The branch beneath him groaned once and then stilled, and Virgil whipped his head back in Pixie’s direction, cursing his luck.

A blaze of light flashed towards Virgil, and the warrior found himself once more leaping through the night air, narrowly avoiding the massive chain-blade before it obliterated the tree branch he’d been on moments before. Pixie yanked the chain, recalling the glowing faerie weapon, and caught it, dropping the Moon-Fire blades into a coy spin as Virgil landed, gliding gracefully on the ice.

Tall and unquestionably beautiful, Virgil the Vigilant was a one-of-a-kind warrior. Dressed in brown and black leather armor that left his arms and chest bare, Virgil was lean and pale, with skin the color and texture of sculpted white stone and long, golden blond hair that trailed down to his lower back, shining in the moonlight. He twirled Vigilance once out of habit as he rose and lifted a hand to his mask, touching the porcelain surface gently.

Pixie-Blade was wide awake now, her visions of the arena fading quickly. She knew the man before her intimately. They were brethren in battle, kindred spirits of War. She did not realize her fae aura was up nor hear the pounding drums about her. The sound blended too well with her thumping heart.

“What are you doing here? Where am I?” Pixie-Blade demanded, looking around at the spacious clearing and the pond beneath her, frozen in ripples.

She spun the Moon-Fire blades reflexively as she walked, turning a small circle, taking in the dreamlike world of Faerie. For a moment, Virgil didn’t answer. He watched the blazing trails of blue and red light as Pixie spun the chain-blades, cutting back the darkness with breathtaking displays of simple beauty.

“I…You were sleepwalking. I couldn’t sleep. I came to make sure you were safe,” Virgil said.

A current of electricity passed between the two gladiators in the moonlight, and they circled one another in a languid dance. Pixie-Blade scoffed at Virgil’s reasoning but found a measure of joy in his presence. She crossed the Moon-Fire blades before her in a searing arc before returning them to smaller rotations, twirling and assessing Virgil.

“Do you remember how we met?” Virgil asked, giving his scythe a spin.

Pixie-Blade could not see Virgil’s face beneath the porcelain theater mask but didn’t need to. She could hear the smile in his voice.

“I remember,” Pixie-Blade said. “I came for you.”

“Without you, I might still be rotting in Claymore,” Virgil said with a sad laugh. “Did you ever think we would make it this far? From the Arena to War, and now, Chimeron? The battles never end, do they?”

The question was too deep for Pixie-Blade. Her thoughts were of a more straightforward nature, and the idea of such introspection bothered her somewhat.

“Do you want them to?” She said, at last, locking in his eyes with her own.

Virgil set both hands on the scythe, readying the reaper weapon. Vigilance began to glow with a potent inner light, the etched diamond blade lighting up like the sun.

“No,” Virgil said. “Not as long as I’m fighting with you by my side.”

Pixie-Blade looked away, unable or unwilling to show Virgil the effect his words had on her. She spun the Moon-Fire blades in large, airy sweeps, letting the flaming weapons burn circles in the night. Virgil twirled Vigilance while walking a perimeter circle around Pixie, watching her move with elemental fluidity. As always, he wondered if he’d said too much. She knew he loved her, that he would never leave her, that he would die for her. Only, Virgil could never be sure she felt the same.

“Pixie-Blade…”

Before Virgil could get out another word, the pounding of Pixie’s war drum aura grew louder, and a flash of light burst towards him. On little more than instinct, Virgil kicked off from the ice below and twirled through the air, dodging the first flaming blade and landing in time to knock the second back. The clash of steel rang out in the wilds of Faerie, and Pixie-Blade smiled as she recalled her weapons to her hands. She began an offensive sequence to spin momentum into the Moon-Fire blades as Virgil flipped away, sliding on the ice and readying Vigilance.

“Am I talking too much?” Virgil asked, dashing across the pond towards Pixie-Blade.

“Shut up and dance, my treasure,” Pixie-Blade taunted, raising her arms and her weapons high.

With tremendous force, Pixie brought the Moon-Fire blades crashing down into the frozen pond, obliterating the tranquility of the moment in a shower of bursting ice and raw, elemental power. She rose into the air on an icy pillar while the pond burst apart below her into monstrous, jagged spikes. Crystalline fog shrouded the area, obscuring her vision. The sound of the ice shattering around her was like the footfalls of giant Fae beasts.

Pixie-Blade recalled her weapons and sent them into quick reverse rotations, watching and listening for the first sign of her opponent. Virgil did not make her wait long. A wind picked up around Pixie-Blade, moving her hair and swirling the leaves from the trees. A flash of light in the fog caught her attention, and she narrowed her eyes.

Then, nearly faster than she could follow, the light was in motion, and Virgil burst through the icy fog, running on the leaves floating in the air as if they were solid ground. His Aura of War was active, and an ethereal Spartan cloak billowed behind him. His every footfall rang with the armored clank of a legion, and he shone with tremendous light, scythe readied. Pixie-Blade had only enough time to catch her weapons, ready them to block and call the ice around her as a shield before Virgil reached her.

Virgil’s eyes were like blue suns blazing within the mask as he swung.

Pixie-Blade’s eyes were glaciers of impenetrable depth as she met him.

The collision of the two mighty gladiators, their weapons charged with the power of War and surging with Faerie magic, obliterated the remnants of the small pond until there was nothing left but smoke and mud.

* * *

Kale and Fionn leaned against a pair of trees nearby, watching the battle with bemused grins. Fionn, a six-foot-three Irish Minotaur, stomped his hooves and snorted, looking longingly at the battlefield. Kale, a six-foot-eight stony ogre with a heart of gold, shook his head and looked down at his slightly smaller companion.

“Looks like they havin’ a good one,” Fionn said.

“Looks private,” Kale retorted, chuckling. “Why’d you bother trailing Virgil anyway? We missed the whole thing.”

“We’re in time ta start a new thing!” Fionn said, reaching for the great axe on his back.

Kale stopped him.

“Let them be. God knows they need this,” Kale said, turning around. “Let’s head back and wake up Jessie, Sam, and Xaruk. See if they're interested in some early morning training.”

Fionn followed but looked back, wanting just one more glimpse at the spectacle.

“They’ve got tha strangest way of showin’ love,” Fionn grumbled.

Kale laughed heartily. Behind him, the sounds of combat resumed, the telltale song of warfare greeting the first rays of dawn.

“Mind, body, and soul,” Kale declared, marching back onto the path towards the Kingdom of Feathers.

“Until we are whole!” Fionn agreed, offering up his fist.

Kale punched it, and together the two gigantic warriors made their way home. Pixie-Blade and Virgil would join them… when they were ready.