A Spell for Alacrity and Adventuring
If you’re perusing this page, you must be embarking on a grand undertaking.
This charm won’t start any fires or save any fair scions, but it sets the right tone.
I call spells like these “mood boosters,” albeit some can be quite powerful.
For instance, my granny Tash loved to fool about with one we privately called Horrid Laughter.
It’s one thing to giggle at a jape, quite another to be unable to stop braying like a beast.
That said, this is a good one to cast before you set out.
It puts everyone in a festive mood, eager to see the sights and battle difficult odds.
It can also lift the spirits at the journey’s lowest ebb.
There may be a few who object to having their emotions tweaked, so be cautious.
Avoid conflict when you can. I’m not telling you to hide your light, mind. Just know when the fight is necessary.
This working will respond best in the light. You’ll need:
Jasper, iolite, carnelian in your pocket, warmed up with your hand
Angelica blossoms for everyone in the group
A tin mug
One swallow each of wilding wine
’Tis best if you frame this as refreshment and not as a spell or a charm per se.
Angelica blossoms are a delightful snack, and who would turn down a taste of a lovely jasmine honey wine?
Any flavor will do, however. I’m rather partial to dew pear acacia.
Whatever you have should suffice, as long as you maintain lightness of heart.
With the stones warmed from your grip, first offer the angelica blossoms with a cheerful spirit.
Once all companions partake, pour the wine and proffer a sip to each.
If the charm is taking hold, they won’t resist despite using a communal cup.
Your gentleness can seduce them from “they” to “we” in a trice.
I find it’s best to give a little toast. You can be clever or witty or funny as a drunken boggart or even try to sway their hearts.
I use this, now and again: “Here’s to stealing, fighting, and drinking.
When you go thieving, take only your true love’s heart.
And when you do battle, let it be for the defenseless.
And when you drink, please raise a glass with me.
” It’s a rare soul who can resist, and once they’ve enjoyed your food and savored your wine, they’ll feel a bond, my gem.
Never underestimate the power of moving someone’s heart.
People will go to war on orders and flee when the tide turns, but they’ll defend their homes to their last breaths.
But you already know that. The beavers taught you this lesson in the wildlands.
I’ll never forget finding you covered in mud from top to tail, guarding your stockpile of sharpened sticks.
You were ready to fight a small sprite army to protect that beaver dam.
Thea
When I take Kerboros’s hand, my fingers tingle, all flaring heat, like being struck by lightning—or a pixie’s wrath.
That sensation yields to the awful portal lurch that churns up my guts.
But the colors of his aura, echoed in this swirling vortex, are so freaking pretty.
Kerboros brings stardust and wonder, sea-glass blue and sparkling iolanthe shot through with frost and silver.
I thought he was colorless at first, but no.
Instead, he’s all the colors, compressed so tightly it looks like shadow.
Once the shimmering fades and my eyes adjust, I notice that we haven’t landed in the Court of Springtide. Dammit. Nothing ever goes as planned.
And ordinarily, it’d be an adventure, figuring out where the heck we are.
Somewhere else could be the most fun I ever had.
But I think about Da, waiting patiently at home for me.
Even if he’s not currently in the cells, I understand that he’s a hostage until I find my spouse and convince Lord Liskaal that I can make that relationship work.
Fear slithers up my leg and grazes my throat with its fangs. I don’t let it bite. I force away my emotions and box them up, as I’ve been doing with my hunger for my entire life. I try to silence the ticking clock in my head. Please don’t hurt my dad. He’s all I have.
Strictly, that’s not entirely true. There are people who care about me, dear friends who will miss me if I’m banished to die a slow, excruciating death, experiencing the horrid withdrawal that comes from the sudden cessation of magic.
But Da? Losing me would destroy him. He’s the best parent in the world, and I can’t let anyone hurt him, no matter what.
Internal resolve slowly forces fear of failure to submit.
Kerboros paces, intensely perturbed and glaring at the golden meadow as if it has personally offended him.
I take stock of our surroundings. Tall grass—a delicate golden green, tipped with lacy white flowers here and there—sings as the wind passes through the field.
There are pops of color: purples and pinks brightened by a cheeky occasional orange.
The air smells sweet too, gentle in my lungs.
Other than the flowers, I don’t recognize any landmarks.
No sloping hills or rock formations. Not even a mushroom ring.
That makes me feel…uneasy. It’s a little unusual not to find trees of any kind in the wildlands.
We guard our sacred groves and honor the dryads who dwell there.
Here, it’s best to presume everything is alive and listening—and behave accordingly.
Da didn’t teach me anything in particular about flower fae, so I’m at a loss.
Not somewhere I want to be.
“Hello there. What took you so long?” The familiar voice seems to come from nowhere; then Zeph pops into view amid a profusion of blooms.
“Were you waiting for us?” I tilt my head, baffled by so many things, but currently, I’m wondering how Zeph got ahead of us.
They couldn’t have known where we were going, right? This was a misfire of Kerboros’s magic, not where we’re supposed to be at all. Some wild fae are tricksters, so they might be joking. While most fae can’t lie directly, they can jest and tinker with meanings and misdirect all day long.
“What makes you say that?” they ask.
“Never mind.” Getting a straight answer will require more energy than I possess.
I consider deploying a useful spell that Da crafted for wayfaring, but I decide to save it. Because, usually, when I think things can’t get worse, they do. Hope for the best; plan for the worst. That credo has never steered me wrong.
“Do you know where we are?” Kerboros asks in a grudging tone.
I shake my head. It must gall him, knowing that we’re here because his magic misfired.
From all my observations of him, he seems tightly wound, focused on efficiency and obedience.
Lately, though, I’ve seen glimmers of something else.
An ungovernable streak he’s been repressing with all his might, and it calls to me.
The feelings I had before rebound even stronger.
In Macha’s grove, I wanted to protect him.
In the aftermath of his terror, I comforted him.
And now… Oh no.
There’s no time or space for me to feel this way. I’m not sure when empathy shifted into intimacy, but now the feelings are deeper still. I like the way he looks and the way he smells, and he’s so very warm. My cheeks are suddenly white-hot as I imagine—
“Thea?” Zeph prompts.
“What?”
“You’re so red. Are you quite all right?”
I wave a hand, trying to cover my embarrassment. I’ll die if Kerboros realizes how I feel. I grope my way back to the original topic and turn the question back to Zeph. “What about you? Have you been here before?”
They aim an impressive smile at me. “Many times.”
“Tell us what you know,” Kerboros demands.
“But you don’t seem to be here on purpose,” Zeph muses in a faintly mocking tone. “You do seem to make a habit of blundering about, don’t you?” They gaze across the flower meadow and laugh softly.
The sound raises goose bumps on my arms because it’s so devoid of humor.
It’s like Zeph hates Kerboros. And I guess I understand why.
People who don’t know that he’s been forced to do his cousin’s dirty work might think he’s horrible.
In fact, I used to number among them, but now I know the truth, and I have Kerboros’s back.
Maybe he’s not my person, exactly, but I…
care about him. A lot has happened in a short time, and I can’t pretend things are the same as when we first started traveling together.
I fold my arms, making it clear I don’t trust Zeph.
“The better question is how you ended up here ahead of us,” I point out.
The slender fae turns cool eyes on me. “Are you accusing me of something?”
This whole encounter feels off. Why did Zeph disappear before Macha provided our lead, and if they are tracking us, could they have been sent by Lord Liskaal to keep tabs on us?
None of those answers are apparent, and I can’t decide how dangerous Zeph is; therefore, it’s better if I don’t provoke them.
They also said they know where we are, which means we need their knowledge.
So I fasten on a smile. “Of course not. No need to argue. If you meant us any harm, you wouldn’t have shown us how to escape Macha’s trap.”
“A reasonable deduction,” Kerboros allows.
I hear a soft chime, and then a shower of sparks cascades around us. Emerging from the blaze of light is a small humanoid form with delicate wings cast in shades of blue, the smallest fae: a pixie. I take a step back.
Unlike me, Zeph reacts with delight. “Rosalina! There you are. I wondered if you could find me. Ready for an adventure?”
“Hmm,” says Rosalina, gazing first at Kerboros and then at me.
Zeph lets out a bubbling laugh. “Don’t be like that. This is important.”
“Is it?” Rosalina asks. “Well, it had better be. I had plans, you know. I don’t exist to be at your beck and call.”
Oh dear. A grumpy pixie, one who feels put out with Zeph for making demands.
And why are they doing that exactly? I don’t remember inviting them to join our expedition.
While I did receive permission to recruit a small team, I had other allies in mind.
But now I don’t have a way to communicate with people I’ve known all my life.
Time to make the best of this. I wonder if good manners and a can-do attitude will appease a crabby pixie. “Hi there. I’m Thea.” I indicate my companion with a nod. “That’s Kerboros. We met Zeph at Macha’s place. Not sure why they’re helping us, to be honest.”
The pixie snorts. “Because they’re nosy, meddlesome, and easily bored.”
Zeph laughs. “I can’t dispute that even if I want to. Rosalina knows me too well.”
“As long as you admit it,” Rosalina says. “Anyway, these are the Golden Fields. Home to various beasts and boggins.”
“Boggins aren’t dangerous,” I say immediately.
They’re the smaller cousins to boggarts, who always get a bad rap in mortal stories. So do hobgoblins, and it irks me to no end.
“Definitely not,” Rosalina agrees. “At least not intentionally. They’re just large compared to me. And when one is small, there are increased risks.” She eyes me with a skeptical expression. “Please do mind your step.”
“We’re not lummoxes,” Kerboros says.
Suddenly, I’m so sleepy, I can’t keep my eyes open.
That doesn’t make sense. We slept in Macha’s bottle, so I should be hungry, not tired.
But I don’t know if we should pause for a meal in the middle of these flowers because the scent is making my head tingle.
I blink, fighting the urge to curl up right where I am.
Rosalina pinches me. “Get moving. It’s not safe here.”
“The flowers have a soporific effect?” Kerboros guesses.
Zeph grins. “If only that was the worst of it.”
As they speak, a bloodred flower growing on a meaty-looking green stalk nearby unfurls long unusual petals, revealing a deep disturbing maw.
“Let me guess,” I say. “The flowers will eat us.”