Page 29 of Gladiator Moon

Probably.

He lives like a king.

It does seem ideal. I will be sure to have the man hung for his excessive impudence. He lives too well, and is probably too happy. Happiness is a plague we cannot allow on Grandar.

Why?

It uproots the dark magic placed over the land, their food, their minds. Somehow, this lot has bypassed it. Father will not be pleased. I am not pleased. Seeing them thrive makes me want to destroy with my bare hands that which gives them joy.

You are a real dick.

You have no idea, vampire.

Anyway, you will not tell your father about them nor anyone who can hurt them. You will forget about them the instant we leave. Understood?

Understood.

Chapter Nine

With that, I angle down through the sky.

Surely, I am a sight to see. Unless creatures with wings are common here, which I doubt. They seem either robust or slight and magical in nature, though there could be fae among them. Maybe every planet has fae, who generally look after nature. Many fae have wings. Case in point, Salt Creek. She has cute little wings. Anyway, with the magical dome keeping most fighters within the arena, I doubt they have ever laid eyes on an “alien” with wings, especially one bearing the prince of the realm and a chained fae creature.

My assumption is right as I alight in a grass field next to the sturdy-looking homestead. A man’s head pops up from behind a bushel of hay. He is holding some sort of curved farm equipment. He’d either been hacking at the hay or gathering it up. At any rate, the look of surprise on his wide face is undeniable.

Greet him, I command the prince.

“How do you do, fine sir?”

“Are you... the prince?”

“I am.”

I set the portly prince down and command him neither to run nor speak unless I command him to. The sprite I continue holding, since she is completely bound and helpless. Leaving the prince standing in the field, I walk closer to the man to better reach inside his head, which I do now.

I need normal clothing for the lad. Do you have something that might fit him? Also, you will speak freely and openly with me, without worry of repercussions. I will not harm you unless you try to harm me. Understood?

Understood. And yes, he’s about my size. I should have something that fits.

Be warned, there might be a magical tracking device embedded or woven within his clothing.

Then I will burn the clothing, if you think that will help.

Better to bury them far from here. On second thought, I’ll dispose of them.

I’m grateful.

Please fetch him some clothing as soon as possible. As you can see, we are not here to hurt you. We are a friendly lot.

I see that, but his father will have us killed. That is why we live under an umbrella of magical protection. His family and their lot are unaware of our presence. To them, this hill is barren. My son, as it turns out, became quite a competent, though minor wizard. Anyway, it is his spell that protects us.

They will not know of your help. Nor will they know of your existence. I promise. You are safe.

With that, he nods and trots off across the field and into the farmhouse. I hear him speaking to someone, then hear a confused woman. He returns shortly, bearing an armload of clothing.

I found these in the laundry bin. They are not yet clean, but they are comfortable and should help him remain inconspicuous, if that is a goal of yours.

It might be. I’m making this up as we go.