Allory Fae and the Dragon's Whiskers

ALLORY FOUND HERSELF TANGLING with the mother of all Pixies. Her bosom was larger than any Scintillant cocoon. Xiximay had been caught a few feet away; Yaarah had his wings snarled up above his head. Four burly, grim-looking Pixie warriors held him fast with no small degree of determination.

"Eep! Excuse me," Allory spluttered.

Gather limbs, wings and random sparkle trails into one coherent bundle. Just about.

She smiled at the giant Pixie matron and saw the reflection of her own sparkles glinting inside those pitiless dark eyes. Nay, not pitiless. As Allory struggled to regather her composure, her Elemental sight returned and she perceived the woman's emotions – surprised, distrustful … disappointed? She saw the amiable heart of a warrior-mother who was older than she could imagine, the echoes of a life recently restored – could these Pixies have been in hibernation? Why?

Allory tried to genuflect and made a total mess of the gesture, yet thoughts tumbled in her mind, as ever, You're so beautiful – oops – o giant mother Pixie – if you are mother to all these, I wish I could be the child of your dust, too!

The black eyes flew wide. Dusteth thy countenance the myriad halls of mine memory? the Pixie thought back. Her mental voice was like jungle honey, thick and gelid, slow-moving and as sweet as the day was long.

Allory froze. Oh no, I – well, how? Suggids! I – I'm Allory Fae. Pleased, delighted to meet – shiver my sap, I mean, dust! You speak by thought? How?

Mother-of-mine-dust, the Pixie beside the matron interrupted, it is she. The … she! The male Pixie, barely half the mother's size, shook his long, curly black hair excitedly as he pointed to the butterfly dust-tattoo that had appeared beside her pointy left ear what seemed like many lifetimes ago, now. Doth mine dust stir as the annals of yore? What span in the epic aeons of time hath passed, I do wonder …

One withering stare later, the little Scintillant received a headshake. Nay. That wert a warrior mighty beyond reckoning, her brilliance that which smote the skies asunder. Child, who art thou?

Meantime, Zzuriel and the Janghorash exchanged snowflakes at high speed.

Hast thou name and title, child? the Pixie repeated.

Allory blinked anxiously. Ma'am, I am called Allory Fae. I'm just little Allory, of the Scintillant Fae – the black eyes crinkled at the corners – and I don't know why, but the Dryad Rhanjielle-Seryiansong called me Allory Life-Weaver –

Is that so?

Aye! And I've also been called the Scinntarinae, although I also don't know what that means … Aware that she was babbling on, as usual for her when stressed, Allory tried to bite her tongue. Not really an option.

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Thou? Bless this dust-pumping heart, thou art the Scinntarinae?

She quailed before the giant Pixie's astonishment. A – Aye. Sort of, I think? Possibly?

Absolutely bang on the nectar there, convincing no-one of anything.

Thou art the Scinntarinae? Incarnate?

The Pixie appeared to be immune to Allory-style bungling. Awfully sweet of her.

I … I wasn't really told what it meant at the time, ma'am, since the handover was a bit rushed, her mind continued to chatter along. Life-threatening, hurried, go distract the enemy whilst I escaped by the froth of my nectar sort of rushed. I've been trying to work out what all this means ever since Yaarah, my Golden Purrmaine friend over there, sort of dropped it on my shoulders that I was destined to save Spheris, which has to be nonsense, see, since I'm barely eleven and a quarter inches tall and really incapable of saving so much as a grain of pollen from destruction. I'm neither important nor impressive. What did you expect, a blaze of Middlesun's own glory? A towering warrior of uncontainable light? I am so not that creature, it's not even funny.

I've just touched the Scinntarinae herself, the Pixie murmured, checking her fingertips.

Right. Mad as a gibbering Ripper Baboon.

Scintillance! she screeched suddenly, making Allory 'eep' in fright. Real Scintillance! Radiant dust! She screeched something in a different language, something that contained the word 'Scinntarinae' and nothing else Allory could hope to understand.

The Dragon mountain and the speck of Diamond Fae stopped their mutual wintery musing to glance over at the commotion. A hundred thousand pairs of eyes fixed upon her.

Allory felt her eyes roll back in their sockets. She was going to –

"No, mrrr-grrr," Yaarah purred, prodding her so firmly in the ribs that even a half-frozen body jump-started in shock. "Allory Fae, do not! Harzune would tell you that fainting is completely unheroic. Mrrr-gnarr, now get out there and accord honour to this Felidragon's life-debt."

"But Yaarah, what should I do?"

But Yaarah, I sound like a squeaky little fraidy-Fae! her mind echoed savagely.

"Shine."

Allory gaped at him as best her creaky, dysfunctional jaw could manage.

"Shine," he repeated, with a definitive shake of his whiskers at her undoubtedly silly expression. "It's what you do."

She smiled tremulously at him. Wondering how her terror had just evaporated when she had meant to throw him a deeply sarcastic line about how he could make it all sound so ruddy simple. The scholar ruffled and rearranged his wings fastidiously, before murmuring, gleaming of eye and inscrutably feline of expression, "Remember, the Dragon is always right and his whiskers, doubly so."

Pest. Incorrigible, irresistible, mind-reading pest!

The Dragon was always right, right?

Mostly to gain herself a moment to think and regain her composure as her long-dormant tear ducts chose this moment to test their return to life, Allory flung herself into his paws and gave him her biggest hug. This was not saying a lot, given her lack of immense stature, but the gesture introduced a squishy, burbly note to the fires of his Dragon belly.

For him alone, she whispered, "You'll always be the Dragon's whiskers to me, Yaarah."

He growled roughly, "Stop that, frrr-prrr."

Allory flicked her wings, carefully propelling herself out into the open. "I don't suppose anyone could tell me what this is all about, could they?"

Amazas chose this moment to wake up with a loud snort. "I say, by the way, are we there yet? What's for breakfast?"