The Thirteenth Summer by Artemis Greenleaf

Author:Artemis Greenleaf
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: demon, fairy, faery, medieval, robin hood

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It had taken some convincing on Fria's part, but John (Tuck had ironically nicknamed him "Little John," because of his size), had proven himself invaluable. Because he'd been living in the forest for the past three years, he knew all about the routines of those who travelled the wood regularly. Fria had decided that the best way to bring the demons out was to start intercepting their merchant caravans through the forest. To add insult to injury, they would freely distribute among the local villagers any of the demons' gold that they should acquire.

Now Tuck had an inordinate fondness for good ale, and insisted on acquiring some, and by some, he meant an entire wagonload of casks. Fria had decided to put this acquisition to good use. Ash had discovered that one of the merchant demons was a silk trader. John knew that a silk trader passed through the forest just after midday every Tuesday. Most likely, they were one and the same – silk was uncommon in this part of the world.

They parked the wagonload of ale across the path where it narrowed, so there was no way around, and removed one wheel. Tuck, wearing the brown robe of a monk, sat in the driver's seat. The other four waited in ambush. Before long, the purveyor of silks and his company of two walked down the path, with a donkey pulling a covered wain. The largest of the three was dressed as a fighter, with leather armor, a sword on his left thigh, and a dagger on his right. The other two were cloaked and hooded, one in grey, the other in tan. Demons could disguise themselves as men, and easily fool actual humans, but their artifices were no match for the fae's keen discernment. Ash whistled once like a kestrel, and twice in the voice of a common redstart. Fria knew that one of the party was a demon and two were human.

"A pox on that crooked sheriff and his bloody taxes," grumbled the man in grey.

"The price of business," shrugged the tan-clad one.

"Hey! Get out of our way, you!" growled the fighter.

"I should very much like to," responded Tuck with a smile, "but as you can see, my wagon is broken. I've sent my squire off to the village for a wheelwright, but he has yet to return."

"MacDonald! Help the friar move his cart," said the figure cloaked in brown.

Fria caught a yellow flash of eye in the dark under his hood, and knew he was the demon. Once the grumbling fighter had his shoulder under the wagon, Fria rose, bowstring drawn, and let fly an arrow that pinned the grey-clad human to a tree. It passed through his shirt and cloak, but not his flesh, and drove deep into the trunk. Little John stepped out of the shrubbery, sword drawn, and held the fighter at bay.

Alan had the most unusual weapon. In his hands, he held a clear crystal pyramid. The top third of it twisted to one side, revealing a vacant chamber.

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