When I came to, the arrow as at the apex of its arc and staring to point downward. I was moving at an incredible speed, with wind blowing my hair back as I tore through it. Torches dotted the ground below, casting the only light for my unguided journey. Outlines of people I sailed over went about their business, unaware that they were being watched for a brief moment before I flew past.
The ground started getting closer, and it was coming fast. I gripped the small sliver of metal to make sure I would not drop it upon landing and braced for impact. Luckily there was nobody nearby, and it looked like Llelwyl’s aim was true. I was on course to land just a few feet from the pavilion where the chest ought to be, and would barely have to walk at all once I landed.
The arrow struck the ground, burying its head deep into the soil. My momentum would have slid me down the shaft upon impact, but it was embedded so far into the soil that my feet simply settled on the ground. I reeled from the sudden deceleration and took several seconds to recover, waiting for the black spots to finally leave my vision. Fortunately, the grass where I landed was high, and half of the arrow that remained above ground was hidden, including me.
It took a few seconds more for my digits to be responsive, but they were still clutched around my makeshift cutting tool. I had little room to maneuver and no leverage, so all I could do was quickly rub it back and forth against my restraints. The swift sawing motions made slow progress against the string, but after a few seconds it began to cut through the string. A little longer and I would be free to carry out my mission.
A tremendous brown leather boot crushed the grass in front of me. “If this is the best you can shoot, you’re fired!” they boomed, then grabbed the arrow by its fletching. I tried to look up, but the arrow kept my head from going back too far. The furthest up I could see was their waist, where a chain tunic was belted off over some hard leather leggings. There was no way I could free myself in the next couple of seconds, so I hoped they would simply toss the arrow aside and forget about it.
They jerked the arrow out of the ground, giving me a jolt when it came free. A surge of motion made me feel as though I were about to come apart when they flipped it around, moving me so fast my vision was a total blur. I lurched again when they stopped it, and their eyes fell on the soil-covered arrowhead above. Slowly, their gaze traced it downward until landing on me. I tried to play possum, but the bundle holding me here was simply too conspicuous. Without even moving I had been caught.
The way they gripped the arrow kept me upside down, so my whole viewpoint was inverted. From how the chain shirt fell from the shoulders down I surmised it was a woman who captured me, and I followed up to see a necklace of dark onyx around her long, slender neck. I was about level with her rounded chin, so I had to look up (down, in my case) past her full lips and nose with a slightly flattened tip to see her light brown eyes. Her hair was a few shades lighter, loosely pulled back with a bow so most of it fell on her cheeks or got tucked behind her ears. She looked pale, but not unhealthily so, and squinted when she looked down at me.
After a few moments of staring at me her eyes suddenly widened. “A living payload?” she thought out loud. “None of my archers even have something living to fire, let alone anything this small. Let’s see what kind of fey creature you are, I don’t think I’ve ever seen one quite your size before.”
She grabbed the arrow with her free hand, laying her thumb across me, and reached for her sheathed knife. I shook slightly when she withdrew it, but she held me steady while lining up her blade against my bonds. A little bit of pressure and a quick slash was all it took for her to cut through the string, a task which would have taken me a minute of sawing. Quickly she returned the knife to its sheath, then brought her hand back to me. Her thumb and forefinger pinched my feet, then she released her grip on the arrow. Luckily she was focused on me, so she did not notice my side of the portable doorway fall into the grass at her feet.
With a quick jerk she raised me to her eye level, and I kept swinging after the movement stopped. “Based on your size, I’d guess you’re an atomie,” she mused, rubbing her chin with her free hand, “but I’d always heard they have sharp, extremely angular features. All fey do that I’ve seen, really. Yours aren’t though, and between those and your proportions, if it weren’t for your size I’d say you were…” she trailed off while leaning in, squinting her brown eyes at me again.
Suddenly her eyes widened, and with a gasp she drew back. “You’re a human!” she exclaimed, trying to stay quiet in her excitement. “By far the smallest human I’ve ever seen, too. I was going to see if there are any magical components I could get by dissecting you, but now…” she bit her lip and trailed off. “Do you know how much a permanently tiny human is worth? At an open auction, elven rulers treat fifty thousand as the starting price. You’re going to help me retire early.”
“Wait, you can’t sell me!” I protested, and this time her jaw dropped.
“You can talk, too!” she said, her surprise turning into a smirk. “That’ll at least double the price.”
“But I’m a human!” I reminded her. “Selling sentient beings was outlawed when manual labor was replaced by undead workers in the Bone Agreement.”
A low, rumbling chuckle emanated from her throat. “Due to the diplomatic pressure of an empress – human, surprisingly – sentient non-fey under six inches in height can be bought and sold as collectibles, display pieces, and general entertainment. I don’t have my ruler, but I think you’re well below that cut-off.” Her eyes narrowed and she added in a low voice, “But if it weren’t legal, you’d easily clear a hundred thousand. Trust me.” When I wanted someone to say I was worth something, this was not what I had in mind.
Her eyes glanced from me to the table under her pavilion. “It’ll be a few weeks before I can find a buyer, but I have the perfect jar to keep you in until then.” She started to turn her body, and I gripped the metal sliver in my hand. If I could not free myself, the others would have to bust me out of a jar when Bushwack took over, and I did not want to deal with the fallout from that. I could do this; all I had to do was get to the ground.
With a shout I reached for my toes and jammed the splinter into my captor’s fingertip. The sudden sharp pain took her by surprise, and her fingers opened just enough to let my feet slide out. She tried to snatch me out of the air but just missed, her fingers coming so close they buffeted me with air. My makeshift weapon was stuck in her skin, but if I had to fight on the ground I doubted it would be much use.
“You little shit!” she roared, yanking the sliver of metal out. She flicked it away and sucked the single drop of blood, then looked down. “When I find you, you’ll pay for that!” I looked around, and a glint of blue at my level caught my eye. It had to be my part of the doorway, and if I could get there my problems would be over. There were only a dozen blades of grass between us, too, which should be a short run even at my size.
The ground shook, and I looked to see a clump of grass smashed flat beneath my captor’s boots. Though she may not have known exactly where I had fallen, she had a general idea, and her feet could cover that area in a very short time. She could not have known about my condition, but from the way she told it she did not need to. Even if one of her boots flattened me, paying to have me revived would be a minuscule cut into her profits.
The boot closer to me raised, then crashed down beside me. Its impact shook me, and I stumbled to the side. Its sole was at eye level, and I had no doubt that, had I been standing just two inches to the left, I would have been under it. When I was able to steady myself, I looked up her towering form and watched her scan the ground beneath her. She passed her gaze right over me, but a twitch of movement to the side caught her eye. With her other leg she stomped at it, far enough away that the ground absorbed the shockwaves.
While she was turned the other way, I made a dash for the portable doorway. Blades of grass created a slalom course for me, but I could still see its gleam amid the green and brown. I was getting close, then I heard the grass behind me stand back up. After one more step I leapt to the side, just barely rolling out of the way before her boot slammed down where I had been. My goal was a single lunge away, but it was trapped under the sole of her boot.
Her eyes passed over me again, and her other boot slammed into the ground, a little closer than before. Whatever had grabbed her attention, I did not pity it: better it than me, after all. While she was distracted, I got back to my feet and leaned against the side of her boot. Every instant would count, and I needed to know when it moved.
“Ha! Got you!” she proclaimed triumphantly, and raised her foot high. Much too high to catch me, as it turned out, and I leapt toward the button-sized magical item. My hands touched both sides of it, and I spoke the command word while her boot rushed toward me. It had nearly made impact when the doorway deployed, blocking her foot from hitting the ground. The magical door rapidly expanded, tossing my would-be stomper onto her back with an earth-shattering quake.
I pressed myself against the lower bounds of the frame while the rest of the adventurers came through, creating non-stop seismic activity. First was Margret, who quickly moved to neutralize the only nearby threat. Next came Sondra, who took a step and spoke an arcane word to fill the area with magic and hopefully subdue any enemies. Bushwack flew through on her own, looking for any opportunities for her to strike a critical blow unseen. A few seconds after them Llelwyl brought up the rear, so confident in her plan she did not even have a weapon drawn.
Margret stood ready to bash my captor with her shield, but thanks to Sondra’s magic it was unnecessary. She was out cold, and Bushwack took the chance to land and relieve her of any valuables. Llelwyl strode into the pavilion and hoisted two great chests, one under each arm, and snatched whatever looked valuable in her hands. She turned around and strode back to the doorway, bearing the weight of her loot as though it were negligible.
When Llelwyl was about to step back through the doorway, someone in the distance shouted, “Stop right there!” They were too far to do anything, though, and Llelwyl stepped into the door as though nothing had happened. Bushwack went next, her arms wrapped around a coin pouch with an onyx necklace draped over her shoulders. Sondra and Margret looked at each other, trying to decide who should leave first, but once Sondra began moving her arms in a circle the issue seemed to be settled. Margret left just when a fireball raced from between Sondra’s hands, exploding roughly where it seemed the shout came from.
With the opposition hopefully suppressed, Sondra bent over to grab me. An arrow sailed through the air right where her heart had been, and her fingers wrapped around me. She was rougher than usual, but under the circumstances I understood she was hurrying. Keeping low, she lunged for the door, and after a bright flash of light we were through. Sondra reached back for something, and when her hand came back the door disappeared. Pinched between her fingers was the magical device I had risked my life to deliver, so far as they knew.
“Another successful job!” Margret exclaimed, pumping her fist. “Let’s check out our loot!”
“When we get back to camp,” Llelwyl coolly replied. “I suspect we’ll have some disputes on how to divide it up.” Her side-eyed glare at Sondra told me all I needed to know about her suspicions. This long day was about to turn into a long night, and I expected I would be at the center of it. However, I was not worried: I had done my job, even with significant hardship, and not even Bushwack could claim I failed.