Chasing Danaera by Chris Jags

Author:Chris Jags [Jags, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2020-01-10T22:00:00+00:00

12

Garrick lay in the moss, chewing on a blade of grass. A faun snored to his right, mead beaded in his beard. To his left, Lizzie sat cross-legged, contemplating the sky.

“You’re more fun than I expected,” the rusalka said. “I never guessed you had a wild streak.”

“I’m not sure I did,” Garrick admitted. “Not until…” he trailed away.

“You came to the forest,” Lizzie finished, nodding. Her face split in that familiar look of dark mischief. “But what would your dear Danaera say? I take it she wasn’t the nymph who you were…”

“No,” Garrick grunted, cutting the rusalka off. “That wasn’t her.”

He glanced at the young woman who sprawled across his shins, shame smoldering in his gut.

I’m so sorry, Danaera. I’m not sure what came over me.

“Gods,” moaned Pequeni, strolling up. Garrick hadn’t seen much of the trenti during the festivities. “Don’t get him started on Danaera. It’s unbearable.”

“Well, it seems like he took a stride toward getting over her just now,” Lizzie said.

“Never,” Garrick murmured.

“This nymph yer chasing,” said one of the few conscious fauns, who lounged nearby. Flavian, Garrick recalled the nymphs calling him. “This Danaera. I know all the nymphs in these parts. Never heard of her.”

Fragments of Garrick’s tale of woe had spilled out during the festivities, coaxed from him by his nymph lover. He hadn’t realized Flavian had been paying attention.

“You can’t have met them all,” he said, adding “…right?” when the faun looked skeptical.

“Met most of ‘em,” Flavian said. “Met ‘em close an’ personal.” He winked broadly. “Never met this one.”

“Well, still,” said Garrick, crestfallen. “I know she’s in here.”

“Eh,” said Flavian, spreading his hands. “More like her about, I’m sure. Like Cassiopeia there. No use dwellin’ on just one.”

The nymph lying across Garrick’s legs moaned on cue. Heartsick, Garrick rolled her off him. “Wrong. There’s no one like Danaera.”

“Eh,” Flavian said again, plucking moss and flicking it absently.

“Can you think of anywhere I could look?” Garrick asked. Pequeni started to answer, but Flavian’s gruff voice drowned him out.

“Fauns an’ nymphs,” he said, “We’re not, what’s the word, stationary. Don’t have a home. Go where we please. Sometimes we bump into other groups like ours, like last night. Then we part ways an’ off we go again.” He groped for a bottle, found it empty, and tossed it aside with a snort. “No point lookin’ any one place.”

“Can I come with you?” Garrick asked, again overriding Pequeni. “Maybe… eventually… you might meet a group Danaera has attached herself to…”

“Eh.” Flavian scratched his beard. “Have a human tag along? I dunno about that.” He kicked a nearby faun with one shaggy hoof. “What say you, Giles?”

Giles groaned in protest and rolled over.

“Not sure you could keep up,” Flavian said. “Not sure you’d have the stamina.” He showed his teeth, broad and crooked.

“He’s right,” Pequeni interjected before Garrick could protest. “We need to go see Sheoran. Sheoran can help you.”

“So you’ve said,” Garrick said irritably. “Who is this Sheoran, anyway? Why do you think he can help me?”

“I don’t think he can, mate, I know he can.

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