Glass or Diamond: Fairy's Wish

A fairy trapped in a capsule is much like a bug trapped in a jar. She can fly around a little, but not much. She can eat and drink, but always at the mercy of her captor. She can sleep, but she is subject to all of the highs and lows of the weather.

And this particular fairy is trapped in her particular jar in a desert. She’s heard tales of deserts before she ever experienced one. The hottest of hot during the day, but somehow, seemingly the coldest of cold during the night.

Surprisingly, though, the warrior that stumbled across her stranded in the desert is not a mindless ruffian like the non-fairies she had so far become accustomed to prior. He’s rather quiet and keeps a bit to himself, but so far, has carried her in her capsule prison for miles through a scorching desert with a blanket over her to keep her shaded, only to turn around and keep her close to him as he slept during the night.

Normally, Lykha is extremely talkative and outgoing. But, her captivity has made her somewhat jaded to normal banter, given that her captors rarely spoke to her except to torment or tease her. In addition to her captivity dulling her, she is exhausted and lethargic thanks to the adventure she just got sucked into. She’s been trying to sleep, but the capsule doesn’t afford much comfort.

Still, the warrior has her enclosed in a blanket with him to keep her warm. He seems like an alright guy, for a desert-wandering monster slayer.

It’s almost a full day’s journey more, which he starts very early in the morning, likely to travel while it’s cooler out. The first rays of morning sun peek over the horizon, and Lykha is more awake than she was.

“So… Warrior.... Can I maybe have another sip or two of water please?”

The warrior glances at her and then reaches to his other side. He pulls out a glass jar with a metal can over it with a small hole in the upside down bottom. He shakes it, and a few droplets of water fall from the metal can to the glass jar, adding to what amounts to about a fairy’s sip of water in the bottom of the glass jar.

When the warrior rolls a small funnel, as he has the other few times so far to pour the water to her, she realizes this must be all he has.

“Wait! Is THAT all the water you have?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“What about you?”

“Still a little while before full sun.”

“Wait! I can’t take all your water.”

“It’s fine. Drink.”

Whether she accepts or not, he pours the water down the funnel to her, and she quickly dives for the hole, not letting it go to waste. She drinks ravenously, but controls herself enough to wave him off after she’s had some. There’s a few drops left over when he leans the jar back, and she wipes her mouth.

“Thank you.”

He nods, rigging his jar back to its pouch on the other side.

“What happened to your canteen?”

“Slashed during one of the fights. We finished off my spare yesterday.”

Lykha hugs herself apologetically, murmuring, “I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. We’ll survive.”

“How far to the village?”

“Rest of the day, probably.”

She slumps a little. It sounds discouraging, but the warrior simply keeps his pace.

The hours tick by slowly. The fairy has probably counted the dark spots, stains, knots and bunches in the blanket over her capsule to their fullest over ten times.

She knows she’s rather rudely neglected to introduce herself or learn her rescuer’s name, but she doesn’t want to get attached. Either he thinks she’s already expended her wish on whomever captured her, or he is simply waiting until his own opportunity to make a wish presents itself to him. Afterward, she’ll likely be discarded, and so, she doesn’t really want to start getting even a little attached to the warrior.

Lykha manages to get some sleep during the day, though she may have simply passed out from the heat. She wakes up with a jolt just as she’s being pounced on by a parasite again. She’s relieved when it’s just a nightmare, but it definitely chills her with how real it felt. It’s fair, given that reality was worse than any nightmare she ever had prior.

The fairy lowers her head to look around beyond the blanket. There are new sounds other than the warrior’s gear shifting and tapping different parts of his armor.

Ahead of them is a sight to see. She taps on the glass of the capsule, and asks, “Can you pull the cover for now?”

The warrior removes the blanket, tucking it into a belt pouch. Lykha braces against the bright afternoon sunlight as she yawns. When her vision adjusts, she looks around in surprise.

It’s the exact opposite of what she ever expected. There are about eight to ten buildings, mostly made of what looks like solidified mud bricks, scattered around a small area. There are a handful of people milling around. One woman, covered in a long hooded robe, is hanging up laundry. A middle-aged gentleman with a beard and a young teen boy are carrying a crate together. A small thicket of trees and green grass rests in the back, where apparently an oasis pool of water rests.

Lykha grew up in a typical fairy village. Granted, fairies are smaller than humans, but they had over a thousand buildings and thousands of fairies in their village. Like all fairy villages, Lykha’s is difficult to reach, which keeps it safe from monster and miscreant alike. The fairies typically captured are because they left their village against the words of their elders for adventure, for anger, or simply for a change of scenery.

This human village is tiny, humble, and doesn’t seem rational in any way. It has no protection from pirates, from monsters, and barely even anything protecting them from the weather.

The fairy asks quietly, “Uh… What is this?”

“A village.”

“Really? There are like… six homes here.”

“So? What does that have to do with anything?”

“How do they survive!?”

“By working together. They chose freedom. Freedom isn’t easy.”

“Why would anyone-...?” Lykha pauses, realizing the irony of what she was about to ask.

The few people notice the warrior like a flashing fireball rolling into the village. They whisper about him, but he ignores all of it. He walks to one of the larger buildings in the village, which is a low bar. There is enough room inside for a couple stone benches, and it appears to be a shop of some kind.

The warrior announces his presence with “Bailiff.”

An elderly sage shuffles out of the back room through a curtain. The androgynous sage sizes up the warrior instantly, remarking, “Ah, warrior. Any news?”

“Gryduke’s dead.”

The aged old bailiff seems difficult to surprise, but this statement does. “Dead? My, you must be quite talented.”

“Gryduke’s are pretty consistent and low activity. I’ve encountered a few.”

The sage nods. The warrior then unshoulders Lykha’s capsule, setting her rather bluntly on the counter, causing the fairy to stumble, and she snaps, “Hey!”

“Can you open this?”

The sage leans forward, studying the glass. Lykha can see the sage isn’t actually human, but she’s not sure what they are, since they’re not drakyk, either. It could partially explain how the voice and appearance of this person both do nothing to reveal their gender.

“Mm… Magic, hm? Mm, mm… Yes, let me have a look.”

The sage shuffles into the back room for a moment.

Lykha says to the warrior, “I appreciate the intent, Warrior, but the spell can only be broken by the caster.”

The warrior, whose arms are crossed in a patient, standing wait, replies, “In my experience, very few things are that reliable.”

“Reliable? It’s magic. Magic has rules.”

“Mm-hmm. And every caster is the best caster they’ve ever met.”

“I’ll have you know, I have NEVER said that!”

“And you aren’t claiming your spells are unbreakable.”

Lykha huffs and gasps, shocked. Though, her loss of words is more because, as usual, he’s right, in a blunt and simple way.

The sage returns with a clay jar with a foil wrap bound by twine. The elderly bailiff undoes the twine and removes the foil, grumbling inaudibly under their breath.

Lykha says politely, “I appreciate your efforts, um, Bailiff, but I don’t want you to waste resources. It’s a magic spell that can’t be broken by any but the caster. And, the caster is dead.”

This seems to perturb the bailiff, and they dump the contents on the capsule. A red powder coats the glass of the capsule. The fairy coughs on the cloud, and quickly covers her mouth. The powder has a bitter taste and smell, with a spicy sting.

The sage says some words that don’t sound familiar at all to the fairy. Admittedly, she only knows the common language and the basic level of the fae language. The full fae language is complex, but the sounds are the same, and the sage is making different syllables than either language she knows uses.

The apparent spell isn’t very long, like a single sentence of rather-sarcastic muttering. And, no later than the last word, the capsule shatters instantly, raining in a powder around Lykha. The fairy peeks through one eye hesitantly.

It’s broken. The indestructible, magically armored glass capsule meant for keeping fairies contained is a pile of powder in a ring around her. She looks up at the sage, and then up at the warrior.

The bailiff grunts dryly, “Unbreakable. Hah! Mages are fools.”

The warrior replies, “Thanks. I’ll be leaving then.”

“What of your pay?” asks the bailiff skeptically.

“No need. Salvage covered expenses. Gryduke is dead, about two days west. Feel free to verify.”

With that, the warrior starts to walk out the door.

“Wait!” calls out the fairy. He turns to face her.

“What about me? What happens to me?”

“Pay off your debt to the bailiff. Take care.”

He starts to turn again, but the bailiff asks, “What of your wish, Warrior?”

“What wish?” The warrior is sounding a little frustrated.

Lykha tenses. She hoped this conversation wouldn’t come up at all. The warrior never realized it, but apparently, this sage instantly could tell she still has access to her single wish granting magic.

The bailiff rather-forcefully turns Lykha around to show the warrior the horizontal glowing lines down her back from between her vertebrae. It’s the easiest way to tell, of course, but isn’t always very easy to see at a glance.

“So?” is the warrior’s terse response.

“You really don’t know what she is, do you?”

“A person,” grunts the warrior bluntly.

The bailiff chuckles, releasing the fairy. She more shamefully faces the warrior, while the bailiff explains, “She’s a fairy. You know; a tiny beautiful woman who can grant your any one desire.”

This is it. Lykha hugs her own waist nervously. She can always refuse a wish, but he did save her life.

And, in fact, the bailiff says this, “No debt is owed to me. But, you did save her life, yes? Seems only fair.”

There’s a moment of silence. Lykha can’t see his face behind his helmet, but she can tell the warrior looked at her.

To her astonishment, though, he states, “I have no need for a wish.”

Lykha can’t believe her ears. Her mother warned her for years that all the other races could think of when a fairy was near was what to wish for. Even her captor’s henchmen attempted on several occasions to betray him and steal her to force her wish out of her.

The bailiff simply chuckles. “There must be some payment you’ll collect for your services. Not just anyone could slay a colossus.”

The warrior hesitates. He replies reluctantly, “If you CAN spare a meal and water, I’ll eat and rest. If not, I’ll be going.”

“We most certainly can, Warrior. Meet at the northeast home at sundown. Maribel and Halkus will see you fed.”

The warrior nods, and exits the building.

Lykha is still standing on the counter where she was, dumbfounded, nervous, and afraid. Did the warrior really not know? Surely he knew what fairies were before now, right?

She looks nervously at the bailiff. Clearly, the bailiff is capable of some level of advanced magic, though they haven’t made any signs of deceiving the fairy. Will they demand her wish?

The sage replies candidly as they turn around to shuffle away, “Not many like that one, are there?”

“I… I wouldn’t really know.”

“Then my word you might take on the matter.” The bailiff takes a jar off of a counter, sniffing its contents once and recoiling before setting it back down.

“W-... What am I supposed to do now?”

“That is up to you, child. Though, I might have already made a suggestion.”

“You want me to follow him? He’s… I just... “

“I want nothing. YOU are the one with wants.”

“I just want to go home! I get what my mother and the other elders were saying! I get why fairies shouldn’t leave our villages! But… I don’t know how to get home…”

“You know not a route home, nor a safe place to stay, yes? For, I can assure you you’ll find no real safety here. Not long beyond this day, anyways.”

The bailiff looks at Lykha. The andgrogynous sage adds, “A warrior with no need for wishes and the ability to defeat the largest of dangers of the world… Who is safer from a fire, I wonder; the man who lights it, or the man who extinguishes it?”

Lykha thinks quietly, trying to make sense of the anecdote. Given the context, the sage is comparing the warrior to the man who extinguishes the fire, but to extinguish a fire, one must get close to it; to the most dangerous location of the fire.

She replies, “That doesn’t make sense. The man who lights the fire, because he chooses where to light it.”

The bailiff smiles, replying, “Yet a man who prepares for fire knows best how to protect himself and others, yes?”

Lykha thinks. The sage has a point. And, it fits them trying to suggest Lykha accompany the warrior for the foreseeable future.

“How… am I supposed to trust him, though? He’s… My only experience so far other than you two is a band of pirates and other selfish and unkind individuals.”

“True. Trust is the quickest route to betrayal.”

With that, the bailiff shuffles into the back room, saying from behind the curtain. “If you have no further business, go elsewhere. I have work to tend to.”

“Wait! What am I supposed to do? Is following a monster slayer my only option? How do I get home then?”

“Answer your own questions, child. I cannot return you home nor protect you. I have no intention of adding another mouth to feed if I don’t have to. And, I’ve already made rather clear my opinions on the matter.”

The fairy glances at the exit, and then back at the curtain. She chews on her thumb lightly, thinking. She can’t stay, because she can’t trust the bailiff any more than anyone else, and they’ve already said she can’t stay.

On the other hand, she knows just as little about the warrior, ultimately, other than he helped her and asked for nothing, but he didn’t exactly offer to protect her either. He helped her because it was convenient to the mission he intended to carry out with or without her.

And still, he trusted her enough to listen to her. Or, at least accommodate her fears in the situations he could.

Lykha whines impotently in one last moment of hesitation. She lifts into flight using her wings, and she flies out through the main door.

The warrior is not very difficult to find. He’s sitting on a stone at the outskirts of town, near where they came in, in a small spot of shade under an altar. Whether he knows what it is or not, Lykha decides to break the ice by finding out.

She flies up slowly, as not to alarm him, and asks, “Warrior?”

He looks up casually from his work sharpening his polearm’s blade, and he nods, “Fairy.”

“Um… P-please don’t call me that. N-not in public.”

“Very well. Mage, then. What do you need?”

“Nothing. Just, um… You know what that is, don’t you?”

She points, and the warrior looks at the stack of rocks crested with a wooden pole, atop which is a paotruss’s skull, pointed out into the desert.

The warrior replies, “Some kind of sign.”

The fairy chuckles to herself warmly, replying, “It’s actually an Ovoo-Nithing. It’s a powerful curse, amplified by all the deities written on each of the stones. See?” She flies closer to the altar and points out the name written on one of the stones.

“Goddfried. See? The Ovoo-half is a sort of prayer and offering, while the Nithing is the curse itself.”

Lykha flies up to the Nithing skull, and she recoils when she sees what’s etched in the skull; -nothing-.

“I… don’t understand. It’s not named. If it’s not named, anyone could put a name here and curse someone.”

A young girl’s voice says from the ground, “Bailiff Wyrden had Samuel and Cappy build it for the monster, but said not to write the monster’s name until it was closer. I-Is it true?”

The question is directed at the warrior.

“Is what true?” asks the armored man.

“That you killed the colossus coming here! Mommy said we’d have to move because of it, but Nana Margarel said you slayed it! So, so, we won’t have to leave!”

“The gryduke is dead. You won’t have to move because of it.”

The girl squeals giddily and spins. She runs over to the warrior, taking his hand.

“Thank you so much! You’re a hero!”

“No need to thank me. I have my own reasons.”

She tugs his hand more assertively, reaffirming, “No, you are a hero. You’re my hero.”

“If you say so.”

“So what’s your name?”

The fairy hovers instinctively closer. She can’t help it. Curiosity grips her, even if she still isn’t sure she wants to get familiar with the warrior.

The warrior looks at the ground with his head cocked, like he’s trying to remember.

Has… he been such a loner all this time, he forgot his own name?

“Murtoa,” replies the warrior succinctly after a short delay.

This causes the girl’s eyes to widen more.

“Murtoa!? A-Are you Murtoa of Lakia!? The legendary knight who slayed the holgamoor!?”

Lykha is equally surprised, especially when the warrior nods.

WHAT!? He can’t really be a knight! This guy? How could this guy be a knight? And a famous one like that?

The girl exclaims, “WOW! That’s amazing! Nana Margarel tells stories about you! I-Is it true you also led a battle of over a million warriors and wizards!?”

‘Murtoa’ shakes his head slowly. “No. That’s an exaggeration.”

“What’s the truth then?”

A woman’s voice calls out, “Adaera! Come get ready for dinner!”

The girl groans, calling back impatiently, “Mama! I can’t!”

“Stop bothering the warrior and let him rest. Come get ready for dinner. Don’t make me say it again.”

“Awwww… Okay! Um, I have to go, Mister Murtoa. But, it was super nice meeting you, and thank you again!”

“Take care.”

The girl waves again before jogging off.

Lykha hovers down to the supposed Murtoa’s level, and she asks skeptically, “Are you really Murtoa?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does. You can’t claim to be a hero you aren’t.”

“Hmm.”

“Well?”

“What?”

“Are you Murtoa or not?”

The warrior returns to sharpening his blade.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in anything the name would buy.”

“Then why tell that girl it’s your name?”

The warrior chuckles, shaking his head. “I just answered her question.”

“WHY ARE YOU BEING SO DIFFICULT!? Why can’t you just tell me if it is or isn’t your name?”

The armored human stands up, putting his head above hers once more. He doesn’t try to intimidate her, though. He simply puts his polearm back in its scabbard on his back.

“It’s my name as much as anything else. Call me Warrior. I don’t care. What I don’t understand is why you do.”

Lykha flinches back a few inches, caught off-guard by the redirection. She fumbles for words.

“Ah! Wha- Who? What do you mean? I- You’re-... I’m just trying to learn who I’m dealing with. That’s all. Obviously, lies are easy for you to summon.”

The warrior scoffs. He retorts with amusement, “Fine.”

“Don’t ‘Fine’ me! You need to start telling me the truth when I ask if we’re going to travel together.”

“We’re going to travel together?”

“Well, since you ask, I suppose I’ll join you.”

Murtoa is extremely confused, and understandably so. He cocks his head in surprise.

“Wait… What? Listen, Mage, I don’t accept debts from coincidental rescues, and you clearly don’t want to participate in my work.”

“I never said that! And, besides; you asked me to come with you. How can I refuse?”

“What is this?”

“What do you mean? I’m going to join you, because you asked, and help you. Unless something better comes up, of course.”

“I refuse.”

“You can’t refuse!”

“I can.”

Murtoa turns away from the fairy and walks towards a different part of the village. She huffs sassily, flying after him. She drifts herself in front of him, hovering backwards as she continues.

“Listen here! I didn’t ask you, you asked me if I was traveling with you. Okay?”

“That’s not what happened.”

He fairly gently, but rather forcefully shoves her aside with the back of his hand, and she yelps, “HEY!”

“You’re free. Go wherever you want.”

“I CAN’T!”

This causes the warrior to slow and stop. He looks over his shoulder at her.

“I want to go home, okay? I REALLY do. But, I don’t know how to get there. Not anymore. And, I can’t trust anyone because of… what the bailiff mentioned. S-So… Please let me come with you. I’ll do anything. So far, you’re the only one who’s given me a fair shot, so you’re all I have to ask… for protection…”

Murtoa stares at her for a long time. His helmet hides his expression, and thus his thoughts. But, he doesn’t laugh, and he doesn’t taunt her for trying to be commanding and manipulative of him. She’s not even usually that forward at all.

She adds softly, “I’m sorry… I thought it would be easier to act like that, since… manners kinda got me in the mess you found me in… My name is Lykha. And, I humbly ask your permission to accompany you for my safety.”

She lowers to the ground, sinking to a kneel with her head bowed and her hands together in a manner she’s seen humans use to plead. The sand is hot and burns her skin, but she endures.

After another moment, the warrior responds.

“Get off of the sand. It must be burning you.”

Lykha looks up, and he nods, “I can’t promise anything. But, if it makes you feel better, I guess you can come along. Just know, you can’t stop me.”

She nods. “I’ll do what I can to help, even if it’s lighting fires for you or stitching wounds you can’t reach. And...”

She suppresses a dry heave, adding reluctantly, “Even… helping slay monsters.”

Murtoa sighs. “Fine.”

Lykha smiles, hovering back into the air. She wipes sand off of her shins and knees as she says sincerely, “Thank you, Murtoa. If nothing else, I’ll stay out of your way.”

“We’ll see.”

The two travel in silence a moment. It becomes clear the warrior is travelling nowhere in particular.

“So, how long have you been slaying monsters?”

“Dunno.”

“Let me guess;” She mimics his voice as deeply as she can, “‘Keeping track of time doesn’t matter.’”

The warrior chuckles warmly. He replies rather grimly, though, “Every day, I hunt them, track them, slay them. There never seems to be any fewer. Watching the years that pass would only end in death.”

Lykha scoffs half-heartedly. “I see what you did there.”

Murtoa nods.

Lykha flies backwards in a lazy circle around him, asking curiously, “Okay, one more. If you slay monsters for a living, why did you refuse payment from the bailiff? I know you didn’t collect any salvage, so… w-were you taking him freeing me as payment?”

“Yes and no. Small villages like this don’t usually have much to spare, and will give their tomorrow to stop a colossus destroying them today. I don’t need much to survive, and I intend to kill the colossi anyways.”

Lykha is a little encouraged by his response. Overall, this wandering monster slayer doesn’t seem to be such a bad guy. Time will tell, of course, but she’s optimistic in a way she wasn’t even in her naive beginning days outside of the fairy village.

“Why would anyone want to live like this, though? Don’t humans and Drakyks live on giant snails?”

“Most do. Some choose not to. It’s a kind of freedom. Freedom you can’t get on the backs of colossi ruled by people. Freedom itself has a cost, and many believe that cost is worth it.”

“Until they die…”

“Even then, in many cases.”

“Huh…”

Once more, the two travel idly in quiet, waiting on the agreed time for dinner.

Lykha understands that Murtoa hunts ferocious monsters day in and day out, but she is curious how much of that is walking, planning, preparing, and things of the non-combat sort. She’ll undoubtedly learn the answer to that the hard way, but maybe it’ll be worth it.

Perhaps, if they work together, they’ll both live long enough for her to find a way home.

And, gruesome work aside, at least it’s something good she’ll be helping him do.

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