We're counting down to the first episode release! Join us on Friday for the video live and your first sight of Heck. In the meantime, here’s a teasing back-story about Heck’s Uncle Shayde - back when he was young and reckless, with a human friend.
Shayde’s Fire Vignette
Shayde picked up the oiled wick for the third time.
He put it down again.
“This seems like…overkill,” he said with a wobble.
“No one’s home,” a voice replied from the other side of the door. “It’s a warning, nothing more, and a better one than gave us. They showered us in filthy disrespect; we need to reply in kind. Mayhap they will even arrive home before your cinders catch hold, with barely a scorch mark to show for our trouble.”
“Really?”
“If you linger any longer, yes! Now, git!”
Shayde took a deep, trembling breath. With a muttered prayer to the ancestors, he thrust the evil-smelling thread into the puddle of clothes left on the floor. He chanted, using the warmth of his breath to ignite it.
Fire magic. There’s nothing like it. Shayde could always feel the other elements around him, but fire is alive and has to be called into being.
Despite his predicament, a smile wandered across his face.
Shayde was stocky by faerie standards - almost stout - with a thick neck, muscular forearms and unruly black hair knotted in a messy plait. His wingcases contributed to his bulk, but given the number of times he had burned or torn the delicate membranes in his workshop, it was a trade-off worth making.
Shayde thrust the wick into the clothes and ran away, scurrying across the floorboards, over the wainscot and through the rat hole in the wall that he had enlarged with a wave of his hand. From behind him came the cloying scent of burnt linen. He paused just inside the entrance. He had enough time to watch the flames before they grew too big to control.
“Tis done?” the voice rasped impatiently from above. “It's colder n’ a witches tit out here.” From the sounds, the man was stamping up and down on the step.
Shayde ignored the reproach. A fold of flaming linen had just touched the floor, and he watched, breathless, as the black burn mark spread.
“Mama?” said a small voice from above. “Mama?”
The staircase creaked.
Heart in his mouth, Shayde darted forward and ponderously spread his wings like a bomber beetle after the rain. He caught the updraft from the flames and used them to gain height as he buzzed across the room.
A small boy, still sleep-ruffled in a smock, stood on the landing. Besides him sat a small terrier who half-rose on his hind legs to snap at the faery.
Shayde was used to this. He didn’t either bother to swerve. Instead, he folded his wings and dropped downwards, both heels angled to catch the dog’s nose. As an added gift, he channelled a fire spark through his feet so the creature would feel a short, electrical shock.
The dog yelped and fell back against the child in a defensive position, growling.
Shayde backflipped and opened his wings again to stay off the floor. Wincing, he pumped his wings upwards, almost jack-knifing in the air to gain enough height. As soon as he was level with the boy’s face, he gestured.
“C’mon, lad,” he said, deepening his voice to human pitch. “I’ll guide you out of here.”
The boy shook his head with a shudder. “Mama said I should stay here,” he said softly. “Til she gets back.”
Shayde swore under his breath. What was the point of hatchlings if you weren’t going to look after them? “The house is full of smoke,” he said roughly. “You can’t stay here.”
The boy turned and ran back to his room. Shayde buzzed after him to see the child curl up under the bed. Blast and rot; the boy was too heavy to drag out.
Instead, Shayde darted back downstairs. The smoke was getting thicker now, but the blaze was still contained. He dug around in his memory for an old spell he had learned from one of his Sky lovers. He wasn’t practised enough to starve the flames of oxygen, but he could blow the burning clothes into the fireplace.
The first bellow of wind whipped the fire towards the walls. The second corralled it, and the third scooped the clothes into the hearth. Relieved, Shayde bent double to cough. The room was fogged grey up to the ceiling, but the boy would survive.
“Ye done?” came the voice from the door.
Shayde crept to the threshold. “Done!” he shouted back. “Message sent! They’ll come back to a ruined parlour, Kit!”
“Indeed? Then let us finish the job.”
He heard Kit’s footsteps tap away before a shadow crossed the window. It was the outline of a large man in a tricorn hat, his features distorted by the thick, bubbled glass panes. The torso twisted, and the arms suddenly moved.
Shayde fell back just before the tar jar smashed through the window. The sticky stuff landed everywhere, splattering the room, his feet, hair - and wings. His upper membranes were stuck to his wing cases. The fresh breeze from the window whipped up the fire, scattering sparks across the room. They eagerly latched on to the oil slick.
Terrified, Shayde ran. He was out the door and halfway down the street before he remembered and came to a halt. Kit was already a distant memory, his boots thudding down the alleyway. Shayde thought of the child. The noise from Kit’s trick had raised the alarm, but they wouldn’t reach the boy in time or even know where to look.
It was up to Shayde.
Sweating and swearing every third step, Shayde ran back to the house. He couldn’t fly again without risking permanent damage, and his spells were limited to fire and air. He swore - if he should live - he’d learn them all: every Clan and every element! Heck, he’d settle for a way to keep his feet wet as he hopped across the hot wooden floorboards.
“Lad, your Mama’s waiting for you!” he shouted. “She’s outside!”
He could hear the dog barking now. He risked another air spell to help him scale the stairs, half-gliding from step to step. The child was now at the back of the room, next to an open window. Huffing, with raw throat from the smoke and exertion, Shayde clambered up his smock to settle on the boy’s shoulder.
“We need to go…out…that window,” he gasped. The boy shook his head, wide-eyed. “No,” he said. “It’s too far!”
Shayde tugged on the child’s hair. “I won’t let you fall,” he said, crossing his fingers behind his back. “What’s your name, lad?”
“Embry.”
“Well, Embry, we’re going to do magic. Just a bit to get down safely.”
The boy pointed at the terrier. “And Masher?”
Shayde looked sideways at the dog. It'd be hard enough to pad Embry’s fall with an updraft, let alone his pet’s.
“Masher will come down after us,” he decided. “He’ll go right after you are on the ground. But you need to go out the window now.”
Embry nodded trustingly. He slid one leg over the windowsill and balanced on the ledge. Shayde dug deep for another spark of magic. This would be so much easier if humans didn’t weave iron through their huts, depleting their energy. “One last push to save a life,” he murmured.
Behind him, the dog yowled, latching onto the hem of Embry’s smock.
Shayde turned around and gave Embry’s smock a firm yank. The boy cried out as gravity took over and tumbled to the ground. Shayde didn’t flinch, didn’t even try to fly. He fell, too, as a gusty updraft caught them both at the last minute, exchanging broken bones for wind-burn.
The boy bounced up, wide-eyed.
“That was splendid!” He pointed at the dog’s head, still barking in the window. “Masher?”
Shayde groaned. But a promise was a promise. He fluttered an updraft of sparks through the window and used them to herd the terrified dog down the stairs to the back of the house. Embry helped by yanking open the weather-beaten back door.
From the street, Shayde could hear the din of the humans approach. “I have to go, lad,” he said kindly to Embry. “I’ve got a score to settle. You were brave tonight”
Embry crouched down to face him. “You could stay with me!” he offered, the words tumbling out of his mouth without a pause. “Jack an’ Mama wouldn’t believe a fair folk helped me!” He helped out his hand, his palm a tempting seat.
Shayde patted the boy's fingertips. “Thank you Embry. I can’t, but I will look out for you in the future. Stay honest and light of heart.” He paused. What did humans always want from faeries? “You have my blessing,” he finished lamely.
Embry’s face fell, but he nodded solemnly. Masher’s ears pricked up, and he started to bark. From far off, a woman was screaming the boy’s name. As Embry approached the commotion, Shayde slid into the undergrowth, west towards the docks.
His friend had tried to kill him. Shayde planned to find out why before he returned the favour.
THE END