Mustardseed grunted as she tightened the leather straps holding her armor in place. She twisted about, testing for mobility. Finding one couldn't move in combat could prove deadly . . . that is, assuming one ever got into combat again. She sighed, and flopped down on the grassy hillock.
"Is it all right?" a tiny anxious voice asked. "Shall I put in a few more stitches, just to make certain they hold well?"
Mustardseed peered into a mound of dandelions. There, among the gray fluff, she barely made out a chubby face surrounded by wispy silvery curls. A faint flutter of translucent wings sent dandelion seeds aloft. Who else but Moth, as pale and flitty as her namesake? If Mustardseed didn't reassure her, she was apt to tremble so much the nearest fairy ring would be awash in weeds.
"The straps are fine, Moth. Thanks for doing them; I can handle my sword, but not a needle."
"But you were frowning," Moth said, emerging from the weeds with a shake of her wings.
"Not over your work. I was just thinking how dull it was. It's so confounded peaceful. And now that Oberon and Titania have kissed and made up, we don't even have the chance to face off against the king's fairies."
"There's facing off and facing off, dearie," came a voice from behind her. "And some of Oberon's fellas have nice faces. Among other things."
Mustardseed didn't really want to hear it. She'd recently broken up with Robin Goodfellow. True, it was all for the best. They weren't suited for each other in the slightest: Robin was an incurable playboy with an infantile sense of humor, however much fun he was in the flowerbeds. Mustardseed's heart had mostly healed, but didn't take kindly to public references to "Oberon's fellas." She decided to put a brave face on it, and resorted to teasing back.
"You'd know best, Peaseblossom," she said. "People say you're responsible for half the fairy rings in the forest, you and your ever-changing partners."
Peaseblossom stepped into the clearing, her every move revealing why she was one of Titania's favorite dancers. And, Mustardseed reflected bitterly, one of the queen's best fighters as well. Peaseblossom proudly wore the black and yellow ribbon signifying she'd successfully dueled a humblebee. Mustardseed, while stronger by far, had no hopes of attaining such an honor.
"I can't help it. A cute guy, an empty patch of grass, and I just have to dance. And my latest beau is positively scrumptious." She twirled gracefully to Mustardseed's side, brushed some dust off a toadstool, and, after arranging her skirts just so, sat down.
"You could say hello to your cousin," Mustardseed said.
Peaseblossom blinked. "Sorry, Moth. Didn't notice you."
"Of course not. She's not a cute guy or a bare patch of grass. Never mind, Moth, some of us appreciate you."
Peaseblossom shook her curly pink locks. "I love Moth, and she knows it. Not that any of us have seen her lately. How, by the Queen's grace, did you manage to get away from the little monster, coz?"
"Ghosh is not a monster," Moth said. Her nearly-invisible antennae extended for a brief moment, then drooped again out of sight.
Mushrooms for all! Mustardseed thought. Little Flutter showing signs of temper?
"He's just active. Really, Peaseblossom, he's the sweetest baby and he'll make a wonderful page someday. No wonder their Majesties were ready to go to war over him." Moth covered a yawn. "But I admit he's wearing. His latest trick is digging holes. I've had to put up signs warning people, or they'll fall in his excavations. The filthy places I've found that imp!"
"I saw him the other day," Mustardseed laughed. "I know he's naturally dark-skinned, being a little Indian changeling, but I couldn't tell where the mud left off and where he began."
"So where is the tiny, but grubby, paragon?" Peaseblossom asked.
"He's napping, so Philomel agreed to watch over him," said Moth. "I've been using the spare time to catch up on my leather-working. I fixed Mustardseed's armor straps, made a belt for dear Throstle, and started some pants for Ghosh. Of course, given what he does to clothes I'd be better off making them out of granite slabs, not reremice's wings."
Mustardseed and Peaseblossom both grimaced. Reremice were some of the nastiest creatures on earth: utterly vicious, completely destructive, and lacking in any intelligence beyond what was needed to attack their enemies. Both fairies had fought in the last great conflict with the winged devils; Mustardseed's left arm bore a scar from long, yellow fangs, and Peaseblossom's entire family had died when the beasts swooped out of the night sky, wrecking a fairy enclave. Perhaps that's why Blossom's so carefree, choosing a different partner every week, thought Mustardseed. She lost nearly everything that mattered to her five years ago.
Moth suddenly realized she had erred in mentioning the dread enemy before seasoned veterans. "Oh, I mean—I didn't mean—that is . . ." she stammered.
"Don't fret, old flitwings," Peaseblossom said with false heartiness. She clapped Moth on the shoulder, nearly staggering the smaller fairy. "At least we got a hefty supply of leather from fighting the big bug scourge of the night."
"Reremice aren't bugs," Mustardseed said mildly. "But do let's talk of something else."
"Delighted. I've been looking for you two. What else could get me to climb this hill in this heat?" Peaseblossom fanned herself with a burdock leaf. "Webby's home on leave! To celebrate her return, I'm throwing a grand bash tonight at the clearing by the musk-rose bush. I've spent the morning killing all the cankers in the buds, so the place looked splendiferous, and smells even yummier."
"Dear Cobweb!" said Moth. "We were so proud when she was accepted into the Queen's Archers. It will seem like we're all schoolgirls again. Of course I'll come, though I may have to bring Ghosh."
Peaseblossom's beautiful features scrunched in dismay. "Oh, if you must. I'd rather have you there with the Brat from Bombay, than not have you at all. But mind you keep him out of the shrubbery. Mustardseed?"
"I'll be there. For Webby." She hadn't felt like attending revels since the bust-up with Robin, but she couldn't miss the chance to spend time with an old pal like Cobweb.
It was a typical Peaseblossom affair, with more extravagance than style. And it was jam-packed with fairies, so crowded there was barely enough room in the circles to turn about. But Mustardseed, an indifferent dancer, was content to stay under a honeysuckle bower, chatting with Cobweb and watching Moth chase Ghosh.
Cobweb looked well, and the golden trim on her purple archer's uniform picked up the highlights in her braided hair. Like Mustardseed, she was one of those fairies with vestigial wings. Neither of them could fly more than a few paces, but they made up for it with greater strength. Webby's right arm positively rippled with muscles.
"So there we were, the new recruits, and what does the Master have us do? Hang pearls in every bloody cowslip's ear within sight. I tell you, we were ready to pack up. We'd come for training, not gardening! It wasn't until we returned to camp, bitching all the while, that we learned our next task: shooting the pearls out of the cowslips. Now that was a challenge worthy of us!"
"Amazing!" Moth breathed before distraction set in. "Ghosh! Don't eat that!"
"Dig, dig, dig," Ghosh said, brandishing his shovel and spraying dirt in every direction before dashing away. Moth hurried after him, sighing.
Cobweb and Mustardseed watched them go. "Moth hasn't changed," Cobweb said. "As domestic as ever, yet no kids of her own. Think she'll ever settle down?"
"If Throstle gets the gumption to pop the question. He's off with their Majesties on the Second Honeymoon Tour, though."
Cobweb pointed to a hillock, where Peaseblossom was regaling a mob of fairies. "She hasn't changed either. And to think she's currently got the infamous one on her string. Wonder how long that will last?"
"Oh, her new lovelight? I actually haven't heard much about him."
"Dewdrops! She's nabbed Randy Robin himself! She said he brazenly approached her at the last full moon ceremony and whispered in her ear, 'Wanna Puck around?'"
Mustardseed suppressed the urge to flinch. I will not overreact; Webby has no idea Robin and I were an item. It's over and done with, and Blossom's welcome to him. But it hurts to think of him with one of my best buds. "He probably used the 'let me put a girdle round you, baby' line, too. You'd think he could come up with a new routine." She pulled up some grass blades and methodically shredded them.
"Uh, right," said Webby, giving Mustardseed a curious look. "Hey, here comes an owl-rider. Wonder what's up?"
The ghostly white bird silently landed down by the brook, where its uniformed rider dismounted and ran to the side of Lady Quill, the ranking official in the royals' absence. Clearly, something was amiss. Fairies scattered like ants whose mound is disturbed, some flying, some running. Lady Quill herself zipped to the center of the clearing and called for attention.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I have grave news. The kobolds have attacked our border guards on the northern edge of the forest. They've beaten back our first line of defenders and are coming this way. They're expected by tomorrow night. I've sent messengers for additional support, but they might not arrive in time. For now, all military personnel to report to General Pard. Civilians, take cover in Oberon's Glade."
"Rain and storms," said Mustardseed, "to think I was complaining it was too peaceful. My big mouth!"
The fairy forces seemed meager to Mustardseed's trained eye. A bare handful of archers, led by Cobweb; a division of hedgehog armor, thirty owl-riders, and the resident fox cavalry, to which she and Blossom belonged. We'd gotten complacent. We haven't been challenged since the reremice war. Half the army's traveling with the royals or hunting that troll in the southlands. These blue-skinned Germanic devils could be grimm. Er, grim.
As she mused over the coming battle, Mustardseed groomed her fox, Mr. Tod. Nearby, Peaseblossom was doing the same. Her beast, a skittish vixen, suddenly snarled as someone approached. "Easy, there," said the newcomer. "Just came to say my farewells to two very foxy ladies. I'm off to bring word of the invasion to their majesties."
"You!" Peaseblossom hurled her brush at Robin Goodfellow's head. It connected with a resounding thunk. "You skip my big party because you're off taking a trip to the moon with Miss Gossamer Wings herself, slutty Cinnabar. Get out before I throw something heavier at you."
Robin, rubbing the bump on his head, flashed that devastating smile on Mustardseed. "Mussy, honey, it's a long trip I'm making . . ."
"How nice. We can rejoice in your lengthy absence. Now why don't you show off that vaunted speed of yours and exit, preferably pursued by a bear?"
"Be that way, then." He buzzed off around a hedgerow, but the pair could hear him faintly. "Aurora, darling of the day! Had to make my farewells . . ."
Mustardseed and Peaseblossom looked at each other over their foxes' backs and burst out laughing. "He must be collecting good-bye smooches," Peaseblossom said.
"Probably timed his departure to the split second." Mustardseed scratched Mr. Tod's elegant nose. He whined in sympathy.
"Trouble is, Robin can kiss better than damn near anyone. The rat."
"More to life than kissing. Let's report to General Pard."
At the next sundown meeting, the officers gave a briefing on the enemy's movements. A captured kobold had explained the reason behind their invasion: they had been peacefully working in the silver mines in northern Greece when a bunch of humans evicted them. He said their families were homeless and the men couldn't find suitable jobs anywhere—but the officials warned this might be a play for sympathy.
"Whatever troubles they might have had, they can't barge in here and steal our homes," thundered General Pard from atop his panther. "Cheeky Hun devils! Their General Hinzelmann is a nasty piece of work, too. Rides on a snake, if you can imagine it! Beats his own soldiers with a stick; heard he's dared to use it on humans, too! Scandalous! A hefty reward to any fairy that disposes of this vermin! Now take your positions. They're expected by midnight."
The battle proved to be more of a skirmish. Clearly, General Hinzelmann was feeling out the fairies' strength. He had superior numbers, more infantry than cavalry and few archers, but they were scrawny bastards. A stick-thin kobold on a weasel, who barely looked able to hold his own shield, managed to break Mustardseed's spear in a brief but fierce tussle. The others she fought with showed the same intense determination: physically weak, but fueled by obvious desperation.
The hedgehog armor did considerable damage to their line, until Hinzelmann himself rattled the nerve of the prickly creatures as he slithered by on a huge snake and laid about him with a great, walloping stick. Mustardseed tried getting near the enemy leader, but soon had to abandon her plans. One of the kobold colonels—a tall fellow, very dark blue and wearing a weird black felt cap—led his division in a clever feint on the right side, cutting off a dozen fox-riders from the main force, Peaseblossom among them.
Fortunately, the commander of the owl-riders immediately sent air support. Mustardseed spurred Mr. Tod into the fray, followed by other cavalry. She managed a swing at the clever colonel, but his beast, a pine marten with a striking orange patch on its breast, turned aside just in time. He had the effrontery to tip his cap and grin at her, his teeth white under a neatly trimmed black mustache. The tide of battle soon separated them, and the surrounded fox-riders broke out of the trap with minimal losses.
Fortunately for the fairy army, Hinzelmann pulled his troops back to regroup for another assault. Mustardseed, Peaseblossom, and Cobweb downed mugs of nectar and assessed the damages. "Not good," Cobweb said. "Some of their officers have little blue stones embedded in their leather coats. I saw two perfectly good shots glance off the cursed things. I was hoping to take out the maniac on the snake."
"The guy in the cap's a bigger danger," Mustardseed said. "I saw him bring down an owl with a dagger in the eye, and he nearly destroyed Blossom's platoon. He's fast enough . . . What's that?"
But she knew too well what it was. Shrill piping filled the sky and dark shadows played across the moon. Cobweb, without hesitating, loosed two shots in succession. A reremouse fell to the ground, twitching until Mustardseed slit its throat. Its fellows shrieked in protest, and the fairies' camp was instantly filled with combat.
Reremice, however vicious, aren't good at coordinating attacks, and soon flew off. But, to the fairies' horror, they were heading for Oberon's Glade where the civilians were hiding.
"There's no help for it," Lady Quill shouted from the back of her massive owl. "What use fighting the kobolds if all our loved ones perish under vile fangs? Onward!"
The owls took flight and the foxes, many double-burdened with archers, leaped over the fields. "Bad, very bad," Mustardseed said over her shoulder to Webby. "Even if we beat the bats, the kobolds will pour down from the hills onto us."
"First things first," said Cobweb. "Hey, Lady Quill's owl just nailed two of the buggers! But what's that in the glade? That can't be Moth!"
The diminutive grey fairy was smacking a downed reremouse with a broom. She looked furious, her antennae sticking straight up. Other reremice were flapping in the sky above the glade, engaging the owl-riders in combat. Cobweb and her fellow archers immediately started shooting, bringing more leathery-winged demons down.
Mustardseed looked about in amazement. Save Moth, the glade was empty. "Where is everybody?"
"In the caves." Moth gave the corpse one more whack. "Ghosh found a tunnel last week while digging, leading to enormous caves. Room for all, and we can block the entrance until these creatures leave. I stayed to show you the way."
General Pard's panther pulled up just in time to hear Moth's news. "Wonderful! And even more wonderful: look, we've beaten them back, and they're heading for the kobolds! They'll get what's coming to them!"
Something twisted in Mustardseed's stomach. "Begging your pardon, sir, but I disagree. No intelligent beings deserve to die under the reremice's fangs and claws. The kobolds, for all that they attacked our lands, are a cultured people with a sense of honor." The image of the kobold colonel tipping his absurd cap came unbidden to her mind. "Do you think the Queen would leave any thinking race to such a fate?"
The general, who revered Titania, had the decency to blush. "What would you have us do, then? Invite the devils to share our sanctuary?"
"Yes," Mustardseed said bluntly. "I am willing to ride to their camp under a flag of truce and direct them to the caves. Er, where are they, Moth?"
She pointed. "Near the tallest birch in that grove, just under the outcrop of rocks that resembles a red crab. I left Ghosh's bucket near the entrance as a sign."
"I must confer with Quill," mumbled Pard, gesturing towards the air patrol, which was coming in for its landing.
"Do it quickly. Sir." Mustardseed's sharp ears caught hoarse cries from the kobolds' camp.
Moments later, Mr. Tod and every other available fox were bounding through the forest again. The beasts were tired, but somehow picked up energy as they neared the fray. Foxes loathed reremice.
There wasn't any time to present the flag of truce in any formal way. The kobolds were backed up in a solid mass, defending a cluster of wagons. Mustardseed heard tiny kobolds wailing over the din of battle. The fairies charged.
Mustardseed glimpsed the face of Colonel Cap, who was directing the defense: he clearly thought the fairies had come to polish his men off, and registered complete crogglement when he saw Titania's Finest whaling into the bats. Then she had to concentrate on impaling reremice, having picked up a new spear in camp. She turned three into shishkabobs before getting close to the kobold defenders again.
The reremice had figured out that the most defenseless morsels were in the wagons, and were dive-bombing them in their haphazard fashion. Mustardseed watched in astonishment as the colonel's pine marten hurled itself into the air and snapped a reremouse in half while its rider cleaved another. But then the colonel's luck failed; a brown streak whizzed at his head and long claws raked through the black hair. The felt cap flew off, and the kobold nearly lost his seat. The reremouse pivoted in air, readying another attack. Mustardseed heaved her spear . . . and connected.
Two more of the monsters tried getting into the wagon, its canvas cover torn to shreds. Mustardseed glimpsed small, frightened blue faces within, and maneuvered Mr. Tod in between the wagon and the reremice. She fended off one with her sword, but when she turned to challenge the second, she saw the injured kobold had already dispatched it. Blood dripping down his face, he looked around wildly for more enemies. But the fairy reinforcements had driven them off, at least for the moment.
"Where's Hinzelmann?" Mustardseed asked him. Where had that darn white flag gone? Oh, well. "We've come to lead your people to safety. We have a refuge in the ridge, down by that glade."
The kobold shook his head, hoping to clear it and not succeeding. "Herr General Hinzelmann is wounded. I command." He looked about, dismayed. "Die Fledermäuse . . ."
"Yes, they'll be back soon. So let's get underground and worry about the details later, Colonel . . ."
He drew himself up, patted the neck of his exhausted marten. "Hödeken. So-called for my little hat, wherever it is." He bowed.
There's something incredibly appealing about such dignity in the face of disaster. And that mustache! "You'll need a new cap. That one's been haberdashed to pieces. Let's go."
"Who would have thought it would have worked out so well?" said Webby. Peaseblossom was again throwing another bash, this time for Webby's imminent return to archery training. She was in rose silks, which matched her flawless complexion, while Mustardseed was not only clad in silver but had the jewelry to complement it.
"What, the kobolds discovering that those caves go on for miles and contain more silver than their old ones did?" asked Peaseblossom, her hand smoothing the yards of lace in her skirt. "And Oberon and Titania working out a deal with their leader? Good thing that crazy snakey general of theirs died of his wounds. From everything I've heard, he was the one behind the invasion. The other fellows in charge seem much more reasonable. Here's Moth and the man of the hour! Little Ghosh! Aunty Blossom has a present for you! A new shovel! Such a good boy deserves anything he wants!" From a diamond-trimmed satchel, Peaseblossom withdrew a gold-handled shovel and gave it to the chubby toddler.
Who promptly tossed it aside. "Don' wanna dig. Wanna fish. Go fishing? Now?"
Moth picked up Ghosh and handed him to Blossom. "Good boy deserves anything he wants! Aunty will take you fishing, for a while, anyway. His gear is by the docks, Peaseblossom."
Peaseblossom gulped. Then she hugged Ghosh. "All right, let's fish, if that's the latest passion. After all, Moth has a Significant Meeting tonight with a certain Captain Throstle."
"And if he doesn't propose, we'll all thump him," said Mustardseed. "You know, I've never looked forward to a dance so much." She surveyed the crowd of fairies and kobolds, looking for a certain figure in black with a cap worn low on his face.
"I'm surprised," said Webby. "You're a lousy dancer."
There he was! He'd bear the mark of those claws forever, but at least they were healing without infection. She rose, and he saw her, his smile visible despite the distance between them. She turned to her pals. "I was a lousy dancer. But that was before Hödeken taught me to waltz. Later, girls."