The
Fairyhunter
Part
2
Adrian Quicksilver took a deep breath and
looked at the surrounding woods. He’d heard enough about this renegade sprite
to know that he was going to have to be the one to catch the little winged
nuisance. These bugs couldn’t get a hero now…they were confused enough about
their place on earth as it was. He knew exactly what his place was, however…he
was the best fairy hunter in the realm and he wasn’t about to be stopped by
threats of winged sabotage. "Michael," he said, turning to his friend
and partner, "how far out did you set up the magic sensors?"
"20 feet this time…I don’t want that
vixen getting anywhere near our stuff." Michael nodded grimly. "If
she’s out there tonight, I want plenty of warning. I paid WAY too much money
for my hunting gear to have it broken or jacked with by some fairy with a death
wish."
"Not even a fairy, just a sprite, Mikey,"
Sprites were little fairy lackeys, slaves
that did their bidding willingly. They didn’t know how to talk and always got
fooled by shiny things. Spelled gems were the perfect thing to catch them in.
They saw them glittering in the grass or wherever, zoomed in to possess the
bright object, then the moment they touched the surface, ZAP!, they were
reduced to their magic energy and sucked into the gem itself. It scared ‘em pretty good, but it kept them from getting damaged
trying to catch them by hand. Broken wings from a struggling sprite reduced
them in value and they were already worth less than a fairy. They’d be okay for
a person who just wanted to keep one as a pet, since the wing mangling would
keep the little thing from flying off. But sorcerers and other magic users
liked to use those shiny wings. The darker magic users or the lazy ones would
drain the whole sprite of her magic for their own use. Still other people would
drain the magic just to sell the leftover crystal statues of the sprite as art.
Some would go so far as to get the little thing to pose for them and hold them
in that position so when they died, the crystal statue would keep the position
with a tiny look of horror permanently etched on it. Scary
bunch of freaks, those guys.
But
With that in mind, he turned back to the
tent and sprawled out on his cot. No sense in wasting valuable sleep on a
sprite…they were too nervous to come out at night and certainly too wary of
humans to come into the camp. He settled in for the night, almost immediately
falling into dreams of the next morning’s hunt….