Unpleasant Encounters with Fairies – Episode 3
“You’re wasting your time,” said Grimmon. “It’s growing faster than you’re pulling it down.”
His foot gave a meaningful nudge to the knee-high pile of discarded moss next to me on the floor.
I wiped my hands on my dressing gown, leaving green smears across its tasteful maroon fabric, and stepped back from the doorway.
Even as I watched, more strands curled out of the damp curtain of moss blocking our exit from my studio, refilling the not-very-large gaps I had only just made.
“I did warn you,” he added, which jangled my nerves, seeing as I knew he would bring it up again and again in the future.
That’s if either of us had a future.
Right now, looking at the steadily thickening growth plugging the stairwell, I wasn’t sure we did. Images flashed through my mind of our skeletons sprawled across the floor, contorted in death by the thirst and hunger.
“Damned fairies! Why are they doing this?” I shook my fist at the moss.
Grimmon’s eyebrows shot up. “It’s your fault. You started it when you destroyed their toadstool ring.” His gaze turned to my desk, the top still soiled with crushed fungus.
The air grew still, like a thousand ears were waiting. Every tiny sound – from the gentle swaying of the blanket of moss at the door to the rustling of the threadlike fronds creeping over the floor – stopped.
“Well, they shouldn’t have grown it there! And I never invited them into the castle in the first place!”
To the sound of angry chittering, I strode across the room, batting a hanging strand of moss out of the way, and peered out of the window. I’m not sure what I expected. The roofs and walkways below didn’t look any closer, and climbing down the outside of the tower was best left to ants.
“What are we going to do?” I waved my arms to show my distress.
“There’s only way to deal with it,” said Grimmon. He fixed me with a hard stare. “Magic.”
My stomach dropped. You see, the last time I’d used magic, things hadn’t gone well. Which, to be fair, happens from time to time. Well, to me anyway. Although I wasn’t going to admit that to Grimmon.
But the main problem is that there are always Unintended Consequences. That’s why nobody ever uses magic for trivial things. You could be excused for thinking heating a cold mug of coffee with a wave of your hand would be a clever thing to do, but when the table the mug is resting on walks out of the door, or the tablecloth catches fire, or some other unforeseen thing happens, you might resolve to henceforth drink your coffee before it gets cold.
Grimmon was watching me closely. It wouldn’t do to show weakness.
I straightened my spine, stalked over to my stained desk, and laid a hand on the book of spells. It quivered in anticipation. As I opened it, I became aware of Grimmon’s hot breath on my elbow. He was standing on tiptoe next to me, craning his neck to peer at the pages of the sacred tome. Accompanied by the grating of his teeth, I casually picked up the book so he couldn’t see the pages as I leafed through them.
The thing is, he has an unhealthy interest in the spell book, but he’s afraid to touch it because whenever he’s snooped at it before – and believe me when I say it is not due to anything I’ve done – it burnt his fingers. You’re probably wondering how I know and I can reassure you it’s not because I spy on the goblin, but because the paintings on my studio wall told me. I put it down to another of those Unintended Consequences.
I hesitated at a page, raised an eyebrow and glanced at Grimmon. “Fireballs?”
“Are you mad? The moss will burn and you’ll end up setting fire to the whole castle.”
I nodded and turned a few more pages. “Ice. Freeze the moss and then…”
“And then what? If you thought it was hard to pull the moss down before, imagine how difficult it will be to hack through solid ice.” Grimmon shook his head. “You’re not thinking.”
I pretended to ignore him. “What we need are wings,” I said, paging further into the book. “I’m sure there’s a spell for that in here somewhere.”
“Tell me you’re joking. There’s no way my feet are leaving the ground. Especially not from some harebrained spell you drum up.”
“There’s nothing harebrained about my spells,” I began. Then my eye caught sight of something interesting on the page I had just turned to. I sucked in a sharp breath.
Grimmon’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
Before he could object, I said the spell.
***
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