Glass or Diamond: Fairy's Wish

Darkness of the day, swallowing the sun and consuming light; this is the meaning of an eclipse. And any who say the eclipse has no spirit incarnation has never met a nightenmael.

Wings that summon maelstroms, a body that blots out the sun, and talons that can carve the world itself.

Colossi are not a new thing, not in this world. But, it’s one thing to know they exist, and another entirely to see them in person. Their size is breathtaking and daunting, their calls are deafening, and their aura is nearly palpable. They are harbingers and arbiters of chaos and destruction wherever they appear.

And more stunning than all of that is watching a tiny speck of a being charging headlong for a towering mountain of a monster with the sole intent of slaying it.

For Murtoa of Lakia, the novelty wore off long ago. He slays colossi as his life’s mission, singularly focused on ending the chaos and destruction as if such things can be ended by one man alone. And, if such things can be ended by one man alone, he seems to be the very one.

Lykha, the fairy, has seen first hand this warrior’s skill in action. He is fearless, driven, and skilled, going where no one would dare choose to go to put himself where he needs to be in order to achieve his goal. Some monsters can only be killed from above, some can only be poisoned, and some can only be killed from the inside. Whatever the method, however long it takes, Murtoa will do it, risking life and limb regularly for people who may never know he exists.

Of course, stories are told of the knight known as Murtoa of Lakia, but Lykha has a hard time connecting this warrior to that legendary knight, defeater of an entire army AND a colossus singlehandedly after his allies were all wiped out. THAT Murtoa is said to be a kind and noble knight, whom princesses swoon for and young maidens pray just to glimpse.

Lykha prays Murtoa won’t forget to wake her up in the morning.

But as she watches him sprinting up the length of an outstretched wing, she can’t help but remember what she saw that very first day, when a man walked into the mouth of a monster and saved her in the process.

Coco, the teen former-captive Lykha partially rescued alongside a handful of other women and girls, remarks in amazement, “‘Usbando mindin’ on doin’ this, i’n’t he?”

Lykha can’t answer. She’s entranced by the tiny speck of a human warrior as he stalls at the wing’s elbow, twirling his polearm in a flurry of quick, shallow, and familiar slashes. The nightenmael flinches, shrieking in pain. Of course, the sound of the shriek takes a second to reach them, and it’s still deafening, causing all of the women and the fairy to cover their ears and flinch in pain.

Murtoa uses his grapnel end to hook feathers and flesh and anchor himself when the nightenmael stumbles. As soon as he is balanced, though, he resumes slashing. He has seemingly no regard for how far below him the ground is now, nor how fast it moves each time the gigantic avian moves even a little. When it flaps its wing relatively slowly, it still launches the warrior into the air.

Lykha gasps, watching helplessly.

Murtoa is not defeated, however. He skillfully uses his polearm’s blade to scrape the wing and slow his descent, before flipping the weapon to the grapnel end and using the hook to catch himself. He’s now on what equates to the bicep of the bird’s wing, putting him on top of the wing as it folds its wing in, looking around in anger. A few more gunshots go off from much bigger weapons, and the avian spins violently, demolishing the area with its vicious and powerful beak once it locates the source.

Lykha’s gaze never leaves Murtoa, though. He dangles desperately by his polearm as the bird whirls and bounces, clinging to his grip on a ride he has no control over. But, he never falls. Instead, he uses one particular bounce of the nightenmael to catapult himself up even higher, and he skillfully lands himself on its back.

Coco cheers, “WHOOAHOHOOOO-oOW! He puttin’ ‘zing’ behind a maze, huh!?”

Lykha whines, “You don’t make any sense!”

The teen ignores her, murmuring, “I’m marryin’ this’bando. Mark my wor’s.”

The fairy glares at her, but one of the women asks nervously, “Sh-shouldn’t we keep going? C-Can we keep going? I-... I want to go home.”

Coco replies in her strange way, “We keepin’ the rolls hot fer our ten-ten! He-”

“No…” murmurs Lykha. “He’ll be okay. She’s right. There’s no need to wait.”

The fairy looks back at her companion as he skillfully sprints up the back of the nightenmael, stumbling and dodging its gaze when it looks around.

Murtoa doesn’t need her help. He doesn’t need anyone. He’s not concerned if he dies on the job, and he’ll give everything he has trying to accomplish it. He doesn’t need anyone.

But, he didn’t for the gryduke either.

Lykha probably didn’t save his life at any real point. She may have saved him from injury at best, but she has no illusions of being his rescuer.

With that said, he didn’t refuse or reject her help. He welcomed it. If it made his life easier, he didn’t really say, but he didn’t accuse her of getting in his way either.

She can do more this time. She’s free, and she can fly.

And, she never wants it to be said that she is dead weight to him.

Lykha starts to fly, but she halts long enough to face Coco, saying sternly, “Get the vehicle running and head that way on the path. There should be a town somewhere along that road. At the very least, get away from here so the nightenmael doesn’t discover you.”

“Wha’cha got’n yer head, Bae!?”

“I’m going to help Mury.”

“How will you get back?” asks the woman from the passenger seat of the cab.

“We’ll be fine. Mury did this alone before me.”

With that, she darts headlong for the battle.

Murtoa is a slayer of monsters. Lykha is but a lost fairy girl. One bathes in blood, the other hates the thought of seeing it.

But, what she hates more than that is the thought of being completely alone in a dangerous world again. Whether he sees it that way or not, he’s her friend. She’s certain of that. His presence alone is usually enough to protect her in the presence of others, but she doesn’t believe he came to the bandit hold just to slay monsters. There are monsters all over the world. Why would he choose the exact place Lykha was kidnapped to?

He doesn’t fool her.

That said, she has to be especially careful. The nightenmael simply flapping its wings or bumping her with one of its movements could kill her instantly, which is likely why Murtoa is choosing where he anchors and lands carefully. The titanic avian weighs more than several whales, and it can still fly, meaning its muscles and body mass are all impressively powerful.

Murtoa uses another predatory hop of the nightenmael as it spins to launch himself into the air, gaining impressive height on its head as it searches around for any remaining attackers. Lykha narrowly dodges its tail feathers as they slash by her, and she’s tumbled by the gust as she tries to stay airborne. She manages to recover and continue flying, swinging up past its tail so she can fly above the creature, ensuring to stay high in case it jumps again. It’s hard to keep up with for her, given their massive size differences and how much ground a single bound can gain it.

She spots Murtoa anchored to the monster’s head near the back, though he appears to be gripping feathers with his hand as he shuffles his grip on his polearm. He then pivots all the way around, swinging the grapnel end as far as he can. He hooks feathers on the side of its head and releases, swinging himself like a pendulum along the side of the massive bird’s head. He gains momentum with his body, though, swinging in a very long arc and using his momentum to gain more height. His feet lead the way upwards, and he skillfully twists in the air to make himself upright. But now, he’s nearing his full reach away from the head. Lykha finds herself holding her breath once more.

Of course, it’s for nothing. Murtoa manages to hook his grapnel along the side of its head right behind its massive eye, and the black pupil pivots. It clearly felt him anchor this time. The colossus ‘chirps’ once, a deep foreboding roar of noise that echoes far.

The warrior is unfazed, though, and he is already pulling the shotgun out of his belt as his body flops to the side of the nightenmael’s head. He plants his feet, standing out from the head even as the bird cocks its head in preparation to try to shake him off. A gust also draws Lykha’s attention down, and the nightenmael has spread its wings once more. This time, they are arced not in the stretching way, but in the pre-flight way.

Murtoa fires the shotgun straight into the bird’s massive eye, and it shrieks as it stumbles to the side. The warrior is helplessly launched upwards, but he manages to steer himself over the head, even as the giant avian stumbles several gigantic paces to the side. The ground below rumbles with each step, and sand dunes sink on themselves as the tremors shake them.

The human warrior lands on the nightenmael’s head, narrowly catching himself with his grapnel on its scalp as it shakes its head in pain. It’s all he can do to stay anchored, and Lykha is only now getting close. The nightenmael roars into the sky, once more stretching its wings. It then angles them as it lowers its body and head. It still intends to take off, and Murtoa is trying to reload.

Lykha flies desperately. She thinks she understands the goal this time. A particularly hard jostle causes the warrior to lose his grip on the shotgun and nearly on his polearm, but he prioritizes his polearm, gripping it to maintain his position and prevent falling.

She’s needed now more than ever. Lykha pushes her wings to carry her as fast as they possibly can. She doubts Murtoa even sees her zip past him, but there are only seconds left. She must reach her destination.

The fairy stops directly alongside the nightenmael’s other eye, and she takes a quick breath. “Bright shine, we’ll be fine. Give me light, if only a mite!” She claps her hands together, and a brilliant white flash explodes from her hands. This brightness is magic, and so, it is actually brighter than the sun, especially this close to the target’s eyes. And, although it’s an area ability that can affect friend or foe, she’s hoping Murtoa isn’t looking at her.

The nightenmael stumbles again, shrieking. Its wings lower, as it doesn’t seem keen on attempting to fly while completely blind.

Murtoa, of course, seems to not even acknowledge what she just did, and he instead, quickly climbs up to the crown of the monster’s head. He jams his polearm’s sword blade down, and the colossus roars, stumbling once more. Clearly, big monsters like these aren’t used to being attacked.

The warrior keeps one elbow wrapped around the polearm for balance while assembling another device from his gear. This one, like the strange instrument that apparently summoned the nightenmael, seems to be a small barrel, but with a directed channel out of the top. It has a piton on the bottom with a barbed point, and he spears it quickly into the scalp of the nightenmael.

The colossus is stumbling, trying to find its eyesight. Lykha’s spell is just a basic flash, so it’s eyesight will recover quickly. She hovers a few yards above Murtoa, watching what he’s doing.

He digs out his flint again and strikes it against his forearm bracer. There are sparks, but it doesn’t ignite. He tries a couple more times, but seems to be missing.

And, then, the nightenmael stumbles again, and in his attempt to brace, he fumbles the spark rock. The warrior watches it fall just a moment, before his head bobs in what was likely a near-silent curse, and he starts digging in his pouch again.

Again, Lykha doesn’t have to just watch. She swoops down quickly, saying, “I got it!” She snaps her fingers, summoning a small flame to light the fuse. “Now what?”

“Run!”

Murtoa instantly pulls his blade out, stumbling into a run to the back of the head. The nightenmael rears back in another roar, and its wings extend out to what feels like the horizons themselves. Again, it’s attempting to take off. And, in its rearing back, it pushes Murtoa’s head into Lykha, and she instinctively holds onto his helmet for stability.

A blast like a cannon explodes behind them, and Lykha glances. The device Murtoa planted has spit fire outwards, but the avian’s head just twitched in an unnatural-seeming way. She’ll ask her warrior companion about it later.

Now, the two are falling. The warrior jumped, and is holding his polearm ready to soften their descent as they get closer to the nightenmael’s neck. Lykha can’t help but scream, though. The fall feels endless, and the ground itself is so very far away.

Suddenly, Murtoa hooks the neck feathers, sliding a little more in a controlled manner. But, while he holds his polearm, he suddenly shoves Lykha off of his head. Just before she can scold him, she watches his boots hit the lower neck, and he tumbles, his head and helmet a part of the roll several dozen times. Did he know?

Lykha flies after him as he tumbles to a stop, catching himself with his polearm as his feet dangle over the side of the avian titan. The ground is still very far away. The bird’s legs are visibly wobbling now, as its wings cast sand storms during their sink to the ground.

Murtoa pulls himself up, as if he were free-climbing a feathery mountain, and then he resumes his sprint towards the tail, even as he coughs. When his hand lowers, the fairy spots blood. Her spine tenses, but she waits. He’s still moving, which is a good sign. She keeps close, though, in case there’s anything she can do in the event he collapses.

The nightenmael’s whole body suddenly topples forward, and it’s back end pivots up, surprising both of them. But, Murtoa is quick to use his grapnel and hook the monster’s back, holding tight and bracing as the tail end sinks just as quickly with the legs giving out. He is being pulled downwards more than falling and holds tightly to his weapon.

The impact slams him against the monster’s body, and he tumbles free of his weapon, sliding helplessly on his back.

Lykha quickly flies to him, “MURY! MURY! ARE YOU OKAY!?”

No response, and he’s rapidly approaching the ‘edge’ where he’ll fall.

The fairy can’t delay. She quickly swoops to him, landing in a kneel on his chest. He has tons of gear that she has no idea how to use, but two pieces she can find a use for. He has a rope that he normally has looped to his belt so it’s not easy to steal, and another that is in his satchel. He also has another barbed piton with a hook ring, similar to the one he just used.

Lykha isn’t a master of all things, but she knows what fishing is. And, it’s going to save Murtoa’s life.

She hopes.

The fairy quickly hooks the piton to the rope’s clip ring, and she flies up to prepare with all of her might. She’ll get one chance. She flies as hard as she can at the nightenmael’s body, aiming at a gap in the feathers. She spears the piton as hard as she can, and she can feel it pierce at least some of the way in. She prays she got it far enough. The barb isn’t visible now, but she can’t actually see the flesh through the feathers.

Still, Murtoa’s unconscious body halts its descent, holding fast as the last shifts of motion from the nightenmael fade.

Lykha sighs in relief, while tears fill her eyes. She flies to his chest again, sitting on him to shout, “Mury! Mury, wake up! Muuuurrrrryyyyyy! Come on!” She pounds on his helmet with her tiny fists. She could try a spell, but she’s not sure which one will help without hurting him.

Confident enough that they’re safe for now, Lykha relaxes on him, saying more dryly, “You know, you’d probably owe me pretty big for saving you. But, you didn’t hold anything against me, so I’ll let this one slide. That said, you should still be nicer to me. I seem to be your only friend after all.”

She tugs the blanket out of his pouch and covers herself from the merciless sun, laying against his metal chest plate. She says gently, “You know, I am thankful you rescued me again. Even if you ignored me to slay this thing. I don’t know why you don’t stick around for thanks. But… I guess it’s actually kinda endearing to know that’s not what motivates you.”

She traces idle shapes on his armor plate, adding, “Still, you’re supposed to be a knight. I guess… I’m just a little disappointed.”

“I told you…” A male voice grunts in pain. Lykha is startled nearly six feet into the air, even as he continues, “I didn’t knight myself.”

“BASTARD! How long were you awake!?”

“Just a moment.” The warrior checks his belt for how he’s anchored, finding his rope. He asks, “You did this?”

Lykha crosses her arms, replying as she looks away from him, “Yes, I did. Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“No. Pretty quick thinking.”

A little surprised, she looks at him with a softer expression. She teases this time, “You know, that’s not a ‘thank you’. I did save your life.”

Murtoa pulls himself over, coughing up blood again, which causes Lykha to wince. But, he continues to recover himself and extract his gear carefully. He replies, wiping blood from his mouth from under his helmet, “Sand’s pretty soft, relatively speaking. Worse things to land in.”

The fairy scoffs in disbelief and a little irritation.

He adds, though, as he looks up at her, “Thanks, though.” He climbs carefully back up to retrieve his polearm, coughing as he slowly makes his way.

“That sounds pretty bad.”

“Feels pretty bad, too.”

“Idiot! Take your armor off.”

“What? Why?”

“Just trust me, please?”

The warrior leans on his polearm and sighs. He unbuckles his chest plate and carefully pulls it off, wincing from obvious pain.

He has a surprisingly thick fabric padded shirt under his armor with buttons in the front. She cautions, “I need to see your chest.”

The warrior nods. She carefully undoes the buttons of his shirt and delicately opens his shirt to investigate. His chest is bruised almost all the way across, and he has more than one brutal-looking scar from something quite large, though not obviously a full-sized colossus. She gingerly touches his chest, studying the war-torn body in surprise for a moment. Just this glimpse under the armor alone tells a story Lykha never guessed. And, she should have.

But, that’s for another time. She gingerly touches the center of his massive bruise, and she chants softly, "Pixies come forth and make it right. Heal this wound with all your might.”

A soft glow fills her hand, and it extends to Murtoa’s chest. She can probably do it once more, so she moves her hand a little and repeats the spell, "Pixies come forth and make it right. Heal this wound with all your might.”

She gently slides her hand down, saying apologetically, “I’m not very strong, so this is all I can do. But, it’ll help you heal faster.”

“Feels better already.”

She scoffs, knowing he’s likely lying. She helps him close his shirt back up, and then assists him putting his armor plate back on.

“Did everyone make it out okay?”

Lykha looks at him, a little surprised that he cares. She replies, “We were watching from a safe distance when I came to help. Coco -er, one of the girls- was able to drive one of those vehicles, and I told her to take the girls back to town.”

The warrior nods.

“I’m surprised you care,” adds the fairy, a little sourly.

“I don’t wish death on anyone. Captivity even less. But, I can’t save the whole world. Let the knights and heroes save all the damsels. I’ll just try to thin the monsters out for them.”

“Why do this if not for the greater good?”

Murtoa stands up and starts to walk away. He says distantly, “There is never enough good in any good being done.”

Lykha watches him for a moment. She’s not sure what to say or how she feels. She lifts into flight and follows him, though, giving him a little space.

On the ground, the two find a sand cruiser approaching. Lykha asks, “What do we do?”

“Stay calm.”

The vehicle slows to a stop and sits for a moment. Lykha cautiously holds position behind his shoulder. She definitely drained her magical energy, so she’ll have to rely on him for direct combat.

However, when the door opens, a young teen girl pops her head out, saying, “If I didn’e see it wit’ me own spott’rs, I doub’ I’d even be fit to dream such a maze! Look’chu! A real colossy slaya!”

Lykha sighs, “Coco. Why did you come back? I told you to take them back to town.”

The other woman emerges from the other side of the cabin, and she replies, “We discussed it, and… we didn’t want to leave you two behind. Not after what you did for us.”

“Aye! So, can yer cans on in here, an’ le’s get’us a leaf!”

The fairy huffs as she ‘stomps’ her feet in the air, “YOU NEVER MAKE ANY SENSE!”

Murtoa says calmly, “She wants us to get in and leave.”

Both Coco and Lykha stare at him in surprise; Coco with a grin, and Lykha with simple disbelief.

“You understand her!?”

The warrior scoffs and nods.

Coco, of course, exclaims giddily, “I try tellin’ Bae, here, ‘usbando nay resis’ a fine machen techromancer!” She laughs warmly and giddily as the warrior walks towards the vehicle.

Lykha flies in front of him, shouting, “Those are made up words! She’s speaking gibberish!”

He doesn’t reply to Lykha, but instead says to Coco, “You shouldn’t call her that. It’s disrespectful.”

Coco looks at him, replying seriously, “I know.”

“What does it mean!? What’s she calling me!?”

The woman in the passenger seat says, “Here, warrior. Please. There’s plenty of room.”

“Ooohhh, no! I don’t think so!” Lykha pushes him towards the back of the vehicle, saying, “Not with the likes of her.”

“‘Frai’ I gon’ goob up on ‘yer’bando’, Bae?” The teen snickers.

Just as Lykha’s about to retort, a male voice says from ahead of the vehicle, “H-hold it right there.”

They all look, and the woman in the passenger seat shrinks inside the vehicle. Coco simply frowns dryly, and Lykha slowly lowers alongside Murtoa’s head.

A bandit, who looks like he’s been through AND seen hell, and then had to dig himself out of a pile of sand, has a gun drawn and aimed at them; Murtoa specifically.

The bandit asks as he stumbles forward, “W-What the hell are you?”

Murtoa nudges Lykha when no one says anything, and he whispers, “Must be talking to you.”

“Me!? He’s aiming at you!”

“ANSWER ME!”

Coco’s voice whispers, “PSSST! Bae! Blow this goob up like you did the other one!”

“WHAT WAS THAT!?” The bandit instinctively aims and fires, though he misses the teen by a lot. Still, it was enough to scare her into yelping and hiding behind the door.

The bandit seems a little surprised himself, like he didn’t mean to fire.

Murtoa walks towards him, leaving his polearm behind. Lykha stays where she was, hissing, “Mury! What are you doing!?”

The bandit aims at him, roaring, “I’ll do it! B-Back off, devil! I’m warning you!”

The warrior simply clenches his right fist around something, and the bandit tightens his grip on the double barrel shotgun. Smoke trails from its barrels as he threateningly aims it at Murtoa’s head. Still, the warrior never pauses.

“YOU WANT TO DIE, DEVIL!? IS THAT IT!?”

“No. You left your powder pouch open.”

The man looks down to his waist. A leather pouch has a black powder in it.

During the distraction, the warrior strikes his flint on his forearm bracer, and sparks fly at the bandit. In the fluid motion, Murtoa is turning away and shielding his face as fire engulfs the bandit and an explosion throws him several feet away, while the small blast stumbles Murtoa.

The warrior recovers his balance and brushes embers off of himself. He walks calmly back to the vehicle, reclaiming his polearm.

The blast was identical to the one Lykha set off.

So, she didn’t have a miracle surge of power, but she simply hit the man’s powder bag where these bandits apparently kept extra black powder for whatever reason.

Murtoa simply climbs into the passenger seat of the cruiser, asking loudly, “You coming, Mage?”

Lykha whirls. She darts in with him, still in disbelief of what just happened.

Everyone is watching him, but no one says anything. He simply lays his head back. He states, probably realizing he’s the only one who didn’t arrive as a captive, “Follow the sun. Should get us in view of town in time for the night lamps.”

Coco replies, “Aye, love. An’ if’n ye want I shoul’ find us a cozy snug’rug, I can footshake Bae and make’us ‘rizon scarce!”

Murtoa scoffs, replying, “Town is fine, thanks.”

Lykha hovers between them, asking with irritation, “What did she say!? This isn’t fair! I can’t understand her!”

Coco snickers deviously, and Murtoa replies, “It’s nothing. Relax.”

The fairy huffs impotently, as the woman between Coco and Murtoa chuckles warmly. She says softly to both Lykha and Murtoa, though, “Thank you both for what you’ve done.”

The warrior replies bluntly, “Thank her. I just killed monsters in her way. Was going to anyways.”

This puts Lykha more at ease. At the very least, he does value her some amount; at least enough to show respect.

After reaching town hours later, they free the women, and the bailiff vows to help get them back to their homes or families if they still have them. He also sends Lykha and Murtoa on their way with a small reward of silver coins. It feels kind of cheap compared to the monster that Murtoa defeated and the gear he has to use to do so, but the warrior makes no complaint, and even splits out the coins to give her half.

The fairy has never had money before, and she doesn’t really know of much of anything beyond supplies to spend it on, so it’s kind of a meaningless gesture in her eyes.

And, in fact, that gesture, kind as it is, pales in comparison to the next day.

“Mage, wake up.”

Lykha opens her eyes in the morning. Her warrior companion is already geared up and ready to travel. She stretches and yawns, quickly rolling out from under her blanket and folding it up nicely to return to him.

She smiles to herself.

Her warrior travelling companion may not be the friendliest or most sensitive person in the world, but he’s not thoughtless or without care.

She asks as she rubs the sleep out of her eyes, “Where are we headed to next?”

A teen girl’s voice excitedly says, “I hear’o’ a monsty nigh but a week’s sunup when’s I was patchin’ me techturners!”

“GAH! Where did you come from!?”

“Me mum and me pop-pop had them a snug in a shiny-...”

“NOT THAT! I mean, why are you here!?”

“Be I speakin’ riddles o’brainsqueeze!? ‘Sbando nee’a real machen help him tick the clock on these monsty goobs!”

“No! No. I’m putting my foot down. Mury, you can’t be serious.”

The warrior replies, “I didn’t make her come.”

“I KNOW THAT! MAKE HER LEAVE!”

“Why?”

Coco replies smugly, “Bae wan’ what she ‘frai’ta ask fer.” She grins deviously, saying seductively to Murtoa, “I ‘frai’o nothin’ though.” She gingerly strokes his chest plate.

The warrior says plainly, “She’s going same way as us this time.”

“DON’T BE AN IDIOT!” snaps the fairy. “No she’s not! She’s just saying that!”

“Look, both of you do what you want. I’m going.” The warrior turns and starts walking.

“Nay we’out me, yer not!” Coco jogs into step with him, walking cutely beside him.

“HEY!” Lykha flies after them both, circling in front, “First off; I asked his permission. Second; it’s going to be awfully crowded in this party with too many people. Third; speaking your gibberish doesn’t make anything easier.”

Coco says sourly, “Sorry we di’n’e all have families to teach us proper speakin’.”

“THAT WAS ALMOST NORMAL!”

Murtoa interrupts, “Leave each other alone. I don’t need this.”

“Aye, Love,” coos Coco tenderly.

Lykha crosses her arms, flying backwards. She mutters under her breath, “Suck up.”

And just like that, her ideal party of two grew to three.

Maybe Coco is admittedly useful. But, that doesn’t mean Lykha has to like her.

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