A Favor from the Marsh

True to the Feyan’s sarcastic warning, their path had plunged them directly into the heart of a swamp. The air grew thick and heavy, saturated with the high-pitched, incessant whine of insects that seemed to harbor a particular thirst for the blood of humans, demons, and satyrs alike. The tall grasses of the plains gave way to dense stands of cattails and reeds that choked the stagnant water. The ground, at first merely damp and spongy, abruptly turned treacherous, catching them utterly by surprise as solid earth gave way to sucking ooze, and they began to sink with alarming speed into the mire.

Jianna, the tallest of the three, was already submerged halfway up her calves in the thick muck, each struggle to free one leg only sinking the other deeper. Despite having four legs to distribute his weight, Malakor fared little better, his powerful limbs entrapped by the greedy mud. Poor Blynn, however, was in the most desperate state of all, sunk nearly to his thighs in the foul-smelling bog.

He was, to put it mildly, not pleased.

"I am beginning to suspect," Blynn remarked, his tone dripping with acidic misery, "that a far kinder fate awaited me back home."

"Ah, but fate is a fickle mistress. One is not required to follow her every whim." A faintly familiar, melodic voice drifted down to them. The Feyan who had forewarned them of this exact predicament landed with effortless grace on a patch of firm ground at the bog's edge. Jianna watched, a fresh surge of bitter jealousy washing over her, as his feet rested lightly on the solid earth, not sinking so much as a fraction of an inch.

"What do you want, Feyan?" Malakor demanded, spitting the final word as if it were a curse.

The Feyan merely offered him a triumphant, self-satisfied grin and swept into a low, theatrical bow before the trapped demon. "I have come merely to offer my assistance," he chirped, his voice light and breezy. "You three appear to be in a bit of a predicament."

"It's more than a 'bit'," Jianna grumbled, straining to look up at him with a sliver of hope. "Can you actually help us?"

"Of course. And there will be no charge for my services."

Malakor snarled under his breath, his eyes narrowed with suspicion as the Feyan took to the air again. Hovering for a moment, he swooped down toward the most deeply mired of their party. With a grunt of exertion, the Feyan hooked his arms beneath Blynn’s shoulders and hauled him bodily from the mud’s tenacious grip. The satyr's hooves came free with a series of loud, wet popping sounds that echoed across the water. The Feyan carried him to the far side of the swamp, depositing him gently on safe ground before advancing on Malakor, who recoiled instinctively before the Feyan had even reached him.

"Na... do not fret," the Feyan said, his voice a placating croon. "I give you my word I will not harm you. I only wish to help."

Malakor responded with a derisive snort.

"Come now, cease this behavior. You can plainly see I did your satyr friend no injury. Do you truly believe I intend to harm you?"

After a long, tense moment of glaring at the Feyan through narrowed slits, Malakor grudgingly extended his primary pair of hands. "You try anything, Feyan, and I swear to the gods, you will live to regret it."

This time, it was the Feyan who snorted. "You really must work on your threats. Besides, what could you possibly do while you're half-submerged? Threaten to splash me?" Nevertheless, he clasped Malakor's hands and, with a powerful heave, pulled him free from his earthy prison. Malakor’s gaze remained locked on the Feyan's face, searching for the slightest hint of treachery. The moment his feet touched solid ground beside Blynn, who was now busy trying to scrape the viscous ooze from his fur, Malakor scrambled back, his face still a mask of savage contempt.

Finally, the Feyan flew to Jianna, taking her by the arms and leaning close. "Your friend," he said, his voice a conspiratorial whisper, "seems a trifle untrusting." He glanced toward Malakor. "Though I suppose it is to be expected, given this foolish conflict between our peoples."

Jianna nodded, shivering slightly from the contact. "He doesn't seem to trust anyone very easily," she admitted.

The Feyan laughed, a light, airy sound. "I can see that."

He deposited her on the far bank, and as soon as she was stable, Jianna began to mimic Blynn's fruitless efforts to clean the gooey, reeking mud from her clothes and skin.

"Alrighty," the Feyan announced, landing before the bedraggled trio. "Now that I have successfully saved your collective hides, introductions are in order. Who are you? And where might you be going?"

"Why don't you offer your name first?" Malakor demanded.

"No, no," the Feyan chided gently. "You are on Feyan lands. It is proper for guests to name themselves."

His earlier act of noble benevolence had almost won Jianna over, but his current arrogance was causing her to rapidly reconsider her assessment.

Malakor growled again but complied. "This is Blynn, that is Jianna, and I am Malakor."

The Feyan nodded, executing another extravagant bow and spreading his shimmering wings. "In the Trade Tongue, I am called Flitterwing."

Jianna thought the name was rather cute, a sentiment that was clearly not shared by Blynn and Malakor, who looked as if they were trying very hard not to laugh.

"Now, for the second question: where are you headed?" Flitterwing inquired, his good humor unshaken.

"If you must know," Malakor growled, "we're headed for Kaur-Koram. Are you going to try to stop us?"

"Kaur-Koram?" Flitterwing echoed, ignoring the challenge entirely. "Well, that is fascinating. I was planning a trip there myself."

"You are?" Jianna asked, her curiosity piqued. An idea sparked. "...Hey, Flitter, would you want to travel with us?"

"Jianna..." Malakor began in a low, menacing snarl. He was completely ignored by the other two.

"Flitter?" the Feyan repeated, a genuine smile gracing his lips as he looked at Jianna. "Er... if the offer is sincere, I would be honored to accompany you."

"Wait just a minute!" Malakor snapped, physically moving to stand between Flitterwing and Jianna. "We can't just keep collecting strays! Our rations will be stretched thin as it is. We don't have enough to feed another mouth!"

"As I said," Flitterwing interjected smoothly, "I was already on my way there. I have my own supplies packed and ready."

Seeing that argument fail, Malakor tried another tack. "Don't you have responsibilities here, anyway?" he demanded, gesturing vaguely at the swamp.

A flicker of genuine sadness crossed Flitterwing’s eyes before he shrugged. "Not anymore. My son has been born. I am… no longer required by my people. And frankly, I have grown weary of it all."

A sudden wave of sympathy for the Feyan washed over Jianna. "C'mon, Malakor," she pleaded. "Let him come with us. Blynn and I don't mind, do we?"

The satyr merely shrugged his shoulders. "Makes no difference to me."

After a full minute of muttering and growling under his breath, Malakor finally spat out a furious, exasperated "Fine!"

As Flitterwing zipped away to retrieve his supplies, Malakor instantly resumed his low growling.

"Will you please stop that?" Jianna finally asked, her patience wearing thin. "It's not like he's trying to kill us. He just saved us."

"You cannot trust a Feyan!" Malakor snarled, the growl a constant rumble in his chest. "One way or another, they will always bring you low. Tonight, when you sleep, keep one eye open. Just remember that."

Jianna stared at Malakor, a seed of doubt beginning to sprout in her mind. His animosity ran far deeper than mere racial prejudice. This was personal. She wondered what could have possibly happened to him. She was certain that, at some point in his past, a Feyan must have wounded him terribly. She couldn't begin to guess how, but she knew that had to be the reason.

She would not realize for some time just how right she was.

A faint thud pulled her from her thoughts, signaling Flitterwing's return. The Feyan had reappeared with a travel pack similar to their own, fully loaded and ready for a long journey.

"I have returned," he announced unnecessarily.

"Good," Malakor grumbled. "Now let's get moving, before something else decides to join our merry band. Jianna would probably try to convince me to let this swarm of bloodsucking insects tag along."

Giggling, Jianna playfully tugged on Malakor's arm. "Oh, but Malakor, I just saw the cutest little grasshopper! Can he come with us? I promise he won't be any trouble. Ooh! And look! A leech! He could be very helpful on the road. Can they join? I swear they won't eat any of your rations or anything. Please?"

"Smartass."

"I know."