For several hours I laid beside Kirinhalut’s shoe while she hummed off-key to herself.  She tapped her toes, making the floor shake as an implicit threat in case I tried to go too far.  I stared up at her while my chest healed, watching her head bob from side to side while she grinned.  When everything was stitched back together, I wanted to climb up her monolithic shin and stab her, but all it would take for her to stop me was a firm swat.

Faintly, I heard wings beating on the air, then Bushwak flew past the canvas frame into view.  “It’s all gone wrong!” she shouted, then turned in the air to come toward me.  “That wasn’t just a trap, it was a full-on ambush!  We never had a chance!”

Kirinhalut placed a hand on her chest and gasped convincingly.  “Oh no!  What happened?” she asked.  “And how did you get away?”

Bushwack dove toward me while she answered.  “The whole entryway is wired with magical traps.  The moment they set foot inside they got sucked inside some tiny jars on a shelf.”  She landed so she stood astride me and looked down, addressing me directly.  “They’re about your size, now.”

“How dreadful,” Kirinhalut responded, though I figured she was more disappointed someone had gotten away.  “What’ll you do without your friends?”

“I’m going to get them back, that’s what.”  It was surprising to see Bushwack get worked up over something besides needlessly tormenting me.  “And while I can’t risk Kiri, you’re going to help.  You’re supposed to be a brave fighter after all, right?”

Immediately I stood to my feet and looked up at her.  “Just tell me what you need me to do,” I offered.  I knew how ridiculous it looked to pledge myself to her fight while standing around her ankles, but the others needed me more than my sense of pride.

“Take this and come with me.”  Bushwack drew one of her daggers and held it down to me, hilt-first.  I grabbed it with both hands and tried to get a solid grip, but when she released her grip the huge blade began to wobble.  Though I tried to keep it upright, I quickly lost balance and fell forward, only covering part of the dagger when I fell onto it.

Bushwack growled and leaned forward, grabbing her dagger with one hand and me with the other.  “You’re not making a good case that you aren’t useless,” she chided, then lifted me off the ground.  Her grip was less domineering than last time, leaving me free to move more than just my head, but in her hurry to get moving my body flopped around in her hand.  The only thing that kept me from flying out of her grasp was her middle finger wrapped snugly around my waist holding me against her palm. 

“I’m sure there’s something around here even you can use as a weapon,” she said, and took flight.  She went to a small table in the wagon’s rear and landed, then began looking through what looked like debris.  Scraps of cloth and leather squares littered the table, and I was carelessly flung about while Bushwack dug through the collection.  As she searched she muttered to herself, dismissing each item she touched until finally her eyes lit up and she proclaimed, “Aha!”

She withdrew her hand, producing a single sewing needle.  “Think you can use this?” she asked, lowering it toward me.  Her fist gripped it around the middle, and I was able to grab it with one hand in the eye and the other higher for support.

I apprised the needle as I held it in my grip.  It was about the size of Bushwack’s dagger but much narrower, and it was much easier to get leverage with.  “Yeah, I should be able to use it as a spear,” I reported, and held it closely to my chest.

“Good, because I don’t know how much more time we have.”  Bushwack tightened her grip to keep from dropping me and launched into the air.  The wind whipped at my hair while she flew as fast as her wings could take her, and I focused on the leaves rapidly speeding past below.

I’ll be seeing you soon!  I can’t wait to find out if one of Circe’s Jars of Trapping will make you even smaller.  I did my best to ignore Kirinhalut’s taunting.  This would be life or death for thousands of people, and I needed to stay focused.

“Yes, I can.”  I was much less confident than I let on – Bushwack herself was somewhat responsible for that – but I needed to be decisive.

“Good.  Remember to wait for my signal before doing whatever it is you’re planning.”

“Okay.  What’s the signal?”

Bushwack sighed.  “I’m going to shout ‘Now!’ and you better be doing it by the time you hear glass break.”  That seemed simple enough.  She went through it a few more times before we arrived to make sure I completely understood, though I did not see how I could mess it up.

We arrived at a dilapidated cabin, the only structure for miles, and I figured this must be it.  The roof looked like it was rotting and the door hung off one of its hinges, but it was far from insecure.  Through the single window I saw flickering candlelight giving the inside a warm glow, throwing just enough light for me to see a whole wall filled with jars.  If even half of them were filled, finding the right ones could take a bit.

Bushwack scrunched herself as narrow as she could get to slip through the door, then began orbiting in the foyer.  The entry rug was made of black silk and embroidered with a complex series of white runes that repeated over its entire surface.  While I did not know much about magic, even I could tell this was the trap’s trigger.  Every step they took onto it must have triggered one of the traps, and by sheer weight of numbers their resistance would have been overrun so they could be drawn into their containers.

Now that we were inside the cabin I could see the jars better, and the witch had an unbelievable collection.  Dozens of jars were crammed onto shelves, and only a few of them lacked a tiny figure inside.  They moved as much as they could when they saw us and beat on the curved glass though the jars were too heavy for them to move. When Bushwack finished her survey and flew closer a cacophony of screams rose to greet me, each of them crying out for help.  There were so many voices intermingling I could not make out what any of them said, but I could empathize with them.  More than anything, they wanted freedom.

Bushwack set me down on the floor before flying off to find our comrades, and I got my first look at our target.  She leaned forward over a table and seemed engrossed with something on it that threw off an absurd amount of light, giving her pale skin an otherworldly glow.  A gentle breeze from it blew back strands of her long blond hair, and her dark brown eyes never deviated from their object of focus.  Her dress, embroidered in gold-stitched arcane words, ran from her neck to her ankles, with a slit up to her hip on one leg, and her black flats had similar patterns on them.

I clutched my sewing needle and started toward her at a jog, for once glad that I was too light to make any noise.  It was imperative that I get into position before the pixie did since she would have no way of telling where I was.  Plus, if the witch broke her focus for some reason and looked over, she would see me on the open ground.  At the very least, I needed to get behind her so there would be no delay in my strike.

Fortunately, she remained engrossed in her ritual, and I reached the back of her shoe without issue.  I brandished my needle like a spear, aiming the tip at her Achilles tendon to cause the maximum amount of pain.  Looking up at the towering witch, I realized even the lowest part would be out of the spear’s reach, so I would have to jump.  The last time I had fought someone this big, I had been pathetically defeated: hopefully, I could redeem myself.  At least this time I was not expected to win, and only had to stay on my feet until help arrived.

“Now!” came the symbol from Bushwack, and I leapt into action.  I jumped at the witch’s ankle and braced a foot on the rear of her shoe, giving me a little extra elevation.  Gripping the needle tightly in both hands, I thrust it into her Achilles tendon as hard as I could.  The tip dimpled then pierced her skin, and I pushed it through until I could move it no further.  It had not quite gone all the way through, and I was stuck dangling from the needle.

She let out a loud shriek and reflexively jerked her leg up from the pain.  The sudden rush upward made me yelp and I clung to the thin piece of metal, wrapping a whole arm inside the eye.  When it came to a stop my body wanted to keep going, and I was nearly flung into the air.  My arm looped through it kept me close, however, and my legs dropped so I was dangling off it again.

Glass shattered, and she looked down to see what had jabbed her.  Her eyes widened when she spotted me clinging to a needle pushed through her leg.  “So it’s a revolt,” she boomed, and smiled maliciously.  “You bugs are about to find out the jars were a mercy.”

She stomped her foot to the floor with a tremendous crash, and between the momentum and shock of it landing I lost my grip.  I fell to the floor and found myself dwarfed by her shoe again with my spear well out of reach.  While I got up she leaned over, keeping a careful watch on me, and pinched the exposed part of the needle.  With a quick yank she withdrew it, and a single drop of blood dripped from the hole.

An arrow cut through the air when she stood, just missing her – of course she had saved Llelwyl first.  She inspected the needle while chuckling then flicked it away, returning her focus to me.  “Nice hit.  Now it’s my turn.”  Her foot shot up, and she moved it so the smooth brown sole was directly over me.  It raced down and I dove to the side, just managing to get out of the way before it crashed into the ground.

The resonating boom from her foot hitting the floor mixed with glass shattering, and the shockwave made my knees buckle.  While I laid helplessly on my back she rotated her foot on its heel, swinging it until her sole eclipsed everything else.  It lowered toward me, and I prepared myself for the agony of being crushed again.  My mission had been completed, however, and I just hoped someone would remember to peel me off the floor before leaving.

Metal thudded against flesh, and the shoe was pulled away just before it could crush me.  A gigantic brown boot stood in front of me, and I looked up to see candlelight glinting off metal plates.  Margret towered over me, her mace at the ready after having just shoved the witch off me.

The witch landed with a cataclysmic thud that made the entire cabin tremble.  Margret’s boots sent out a tremor when she stepped forward, and she raised her mace to finish the job.  She swung, striking her in the forehead and knocking her out cold.  Seeing that she was still breathing, Margret got ready for a finishing blow.

Llelwyl lunged into view and grabbed her wrist, stopping her mid-swing.  “Wait!” she shouted, and Margret continued struggling against her grasp.  “She’s not a threat to us anymore.  Let’s just grab what we came for and get out.”

Margret spun around, and even from the floor I could see rage burning in her eyes.  “Sure, she’s not a threat to us,” she repeated, pushing past Llelwyl, “but what about everyone else?  Just look at this!” She gestured at the wall of jars with her mace before continuing.  “Who knows how long she’s been holding these people captive?  Who knows how many more she’ll take if we don’t stop her now?”

Llelwyl stepped over me to loom over Margret.  “That’s tragic, but it’s not our concern,” she said.  “We’re here to get the Orb of Power, and that’s all we’re going to do.  If someone has a problem with her lining a wall with tiny people, they can put out a job to stop her.”

Margret dropped her mace into its belt loop and shouted, “Well it’s my concern!”  She reached out and grabbed one of the jars, then yanked it off the shelf.  Her arm reared back like she was about to throw it with all her might.

“Margret, no!” Sondra shouted, but it was too late.  Margret cast the jar onto the floor, where it shattered into tiny shards of glass.  Instead of growing back to their normal size, however, the person trapped inside remained tiny.  Seconds passed with no change, and he looked up at them, bewildered.

“That’s what I was trying to warn you about,” Sondra continued.  “If a Jar of Holding isn’t broken within a day, the person gets stuck at that size.  They can be restored, but I don’t have the right spells.”

“So… all these people are stuck like this?” Margret asked, looking sadly at the person she had just freed.

“I’m afraid so,” Sondra replied.  “Unless we get them to someone who can help them, there’s no way to reverse it.”

“No,” Llelwyl cut in,” absolutely not.  I can see where you’re going with this, and we’re not doing it.  We’re already working to get one shrunken person restored, I’m not doing it for another, and I’ll be trapped in the Nine Hells before I do it for eighty.  One useless mouth is already too much.”

“Actually, Lell –“

“Drop it!”  Llelwyl stopped Bushwack’s interjection before she could finish it.  “No more tiny people.  I’m putting my foot down, and if you if you keep bugging me about it, I’ll put it down on him.  Am I clear?”   The others looked away from her sheepishly, and Llelwyl beamed triumphantly.  “That’s what I thought.  Now, I’m going to get what we came here for so we can get back to the wagon before she wakes up.

No one stopped Llelwyl as she turned and began walking toward the vessel containing the orb.  Her footfalls resonated loud in the awkward silence, seeming to echo off the cabin’s walls while tremors passed through the floor.  I realized I was right in front of the orb, and there was only one more step between us.

She lifted her boot, and I saw it was right on course for me.  Everyone else watched in horror while her leg raced forward, and the thud of her heel on the plank was poison in my ears while her gray sole blocked everything else.  “Lell, look out!” I shouted, but she did not stop.  Her foot swung down at incredible speed, and I was right in the middle of her sole.  Llelwyl’s boot struck me with so much force that I was instantly crushed, and all I could comprehend was pain as I was flattened.