SL Huang - Up and Coming - Stories by the 2016 Campbell-Eligible Authors

Galen only spat, missing the hare by inches.

“Rude. So what will your first wish be? Something simple: healing for your wife, game for your bag, forgiveness from your friends? Or will it be more of the usual human greed: gold, land, victory in battle, power over others? So many possibilities. Come now, let’s hear it.”

“You will.” Galen’s fists balled at his sides as he stared at the hare. “ I wish for justice .”

The hare ceased to move. Its nose, its whiskers, its ears became absolutely still. Its eyes stopped gleaming with delight and grew dull. It hunched low on its legs, as if hoping to evade notice.

Friar Benedictus breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Oh, well done, Galen.”

Far off in the distance, they heard a sound of trumpets.

Soon, a procession appeared at the brow of the hill behind Galen’s land, moving with speed and grace toward where the hunter and the hare waited. Handsome men in bright-colored tunics and hose, beautiful women in sheer white gowns, all of them seemed to glow from within despite the failing light of the sun. Galen and Friar Benedictus stood spell-bound, watching that fair company as it approached.

The Fair Folk arrived, their voices like chimes and woodwinds, and stopped a few paces off. Their company parted, revealing their leader.

Dwarfish he was, his head not quite coming up to Galen’s heart, but handsome and well-formed as any of his people. His hair was dark as a starless night, his eyes cornflower-blue and shining with merriment. His voice, when he spoke, had the tone of a waldhorn singing alone in the deep forest. “Not long ago as the sunlit lands measure time, I heard rumor of ill-working among my people. I am on my way to Midsummer revels in a faraway land, yet such matters must take precedence. Whom do I see before me?”

The friar stepped forward and bowed. “Lord Alberich, I am Friar Benedictus. This is Galen, a huntsman, who holds himself wronged by one of your subjects.”

The dwarf glanced at Galen for barely a moment, and then his eyes fell on the golden-coat hare. “How now, young Puck? What have you to say to this?”

“I have done this man no wrong,” said the hare with indignation. “Indeed, I have offered him three boons, which he has not the wit to use.”

Friar Benedictus glanced at Galen and felt his eyes widen in surprise. The hunter positively swelled with anger, losing his temper for the first time since anyone could easily recall.

“No wrong?” shouted Galen. “Shall we speak of game scared off, fowl slain, milk soured, grain eaten out of the fields, children stung, elders sickened? Shall we speak of my wife, lying there with a fearsome hurt? Shall we speak of my neighbors turned against me, the Count’s men ready to lay hand on me? And you say I have not been wronged ?”

“Have you done all these things, Puck?”

The hare took up a posture of affronted dignity. “Certainly not.”

“They were done at this creature’s bidding,” said Galen.

Alberich looked stern. “Would any these things have come to pass without your will?”

The hare shifted its weight. “Well…no.”

“Then why did you convince others to harm this man, his neighbors, and his wife?”

“Because I owe him three wishes!” The hare looked away. “Two now. You know what I must suffer, with such a debt unpaid.”

“Beware, golden runner in the fields, for I can see to your shivering heart, and I know this to be a lie.” Alberich stepped closer, his face like a thundercloud. “I see no signs of suffering in you at all. Indeed, you seem well-fed, well-groomed, and well-satisfied. Explain this.”

Galen’s eyes narrowed as he watched the hare, a suspicion taking root in his heart.

“I can’t, oh great and terrible lord,” quavered the hare.

“I can,” said Galen.

“Indeed?” said Alberich with surprise. “Please do so.”

“The last time I saw this beast, this Puck, I threw my knife at it. I am a knife-man of no common wit. Where I throw, I strike. Yet, this hare dodged aside in the blink of an eye.”

“Our Puck is no common beast,” said the dwarf.

“Perhaps. But that isn’t all. Before the knife, I had my bow at full draw and had sighted down on the creature. I am an archer of no common wit. Where I shoot, I strike. Yet this hare stood stock-still, as if it had nothing at all to fear.”

“I did have nothing to fear, you fool!” The hare danced from paw to paw in reckless pride.

“Then how is it that you were caught by one of my snares?”

Silence.

“A snare?” asked Alberich in wonder. “Our Puck was caught and held…by a snare ?”

“A common snare, made of wood and leather and not an ounce of cold iron,” said Galen. “Yet there it lay, helpless and ready to be slain. Or so it seemed.”

Galen did not expect what came next.

Alberich and all his company laughed .

Galen had heard much laughter in his day, even if he was not normally inclined to join in. Joyful laughter, laughter at a jest, these things he understood. The laughter of the Fair Folk bore nothing of such honest merriment. It spoke instead of inhuman cruelty and spite. It spoke of death, of children starving alone in the forest, of fresh blood bathing a stone under the full moon.

He shivered. May the Lion keep all creatures such as these far away from me . Assuming I live through this night .

He glanced at Benedictus as the laughter died away, seeing the friar’s eyes wide with fear. Then he turned back to the Faerie King.

“You see it now. This creature was never in danger of being caught in my snare. It could have freed itself at any time, by withering the snare as it did my roof-tree. When I freed it, I did nothing it could not have done for itself. It owes me no obligation at all. Every hurt it has done to me and to my neighbors has been an unprovoked crime. Even by your folk’s lights, I think.”

“Indeed,” said Alberich. “My people hold no love for yours, Man, for your greed, your cold iron, and your ravaging of the Earth. But those who cry for justice may not act unjustly in their turn. I deem that to punish you for a harm that never was—well, it is a crime. Puck!”

The golden-coat hare shivered, and then seemed to grow. In the space of two breaths, the hare was gone and a small golden man stood in its place. “I hear, oh terrible King.”

“This is my Doom: you shall wander the Fogwood in the form of a hare, robbed of your voice and your cunning, so that you may learn what it is to be toyed with by greater powers. You shall be left with your swiftness, your fear, and nothing else. So shall it be for a year and a day. If you survive so long, well and done.”

Puck bowed his head. “So be it.”

“You will also hear this Word: never again shall you attempt to force a boon upon any man, neither by force nor by fraud. If you do, be very certain. I will feed you to Shaykosch .”

The golden-skinned man trembled in terror. “I understand.”

“Then go!”

The last of the sun’s light shone on Puck as he returned to his lapine shape. Then, a streak of gold ran through the grass, and he was gone.

“Now, huntsman, justice demands that I make things right.” Alberich peered at Galen, his blue eyes shining with an uncanny light. “What boons would you ask of me to see that done?”

Friar Benedictus gave Galen a warning glance, but the huntsman only gave a grim smile.

“None, my lord, except that all of us harmed by Puck’s malice be made whole.”

“A human with wisdom and lacking in greed,” observed the dwarf. “The Powers Above stand still in amazement at such a sight. So mote it be.”