Fantasy Creature Spotlight: Nymphs, Page 5

  Chapter 3: Bored

  The next morning grew long. High overhead, the sun crossed the midpoint and pushed into the afternoon hours. Still the paladin did not leave his tent. He made no move to build a fire, hunt for game, or tend his horse. His shining armor dulled from disuse. Peter remained in his tent all day.

  Day turned to evening. Evening turned to night. Stormy sighed deeply in the chill air. She let the smells and sounds swirl around her. Her open arms embraced the wind as an old friend. Tonight, let it aid her in the contest and win her victory over her sisters.

  She floated over the camp so as not to alert him to her approach. He must be awake by now. Stormy poked her head in the tent carefully. Peter lay curled in a ball on his bedroll with a pillow tied firmly to his head. He probably could not hear her if she made a tornado right there in the tent.

  Stormy gently nudged the sleeping man and then shook him more violently. He roused sleepily and stared at her as if she were nothing more substantial than a dream. Deep black circles surrounded his eyes while red lines crisscrossed their surface. His body slowly rose, stiff from lying down so long. Peter turned to her absently.

  “Milady,” he said. “If thou art here to seduce me, I beg thee to reconsider.”

  “Not really,” Stormy shook her head. “The game got boring now and you look terrible.”

  Her honesty surprised the knight.

  “You see,” she continued, “we’re playing a game and you’re the prize. We have to get you to love us in order to win. I think telling you about it is cheating but I don’t really care. I don’t think you’d go for it right now anyway.”

  “I apologize for my failings,” Peter sighed. “I am weary these past three days from lack of sleep. This accursed prairie denies me any rest. Strange noises do appear at night to spirit away my sleep while visions of beautiful women try my patience most sorely.”

  “Those would be my sisters,” she said. “We’re not visions. We’re nymphs.”

  “I attest that I do not know such a word,” Peter replied.

  “We’re sort of elemental,” Stormy demonstrated by turning into air and back again.

  “Truly a wondrous feat,” Peter complimented.

  “If I leave right now, the others will make fun of me,” Stormy said. “I need to stay in here a few hours at least to make it look like I really tried.”

  Peter sighed, his honor remained intact, but duty required that he help this unfortunate creature with her plight. He agreed to entertain her for as many hours as she saw fit. The paladin propped heavily against his sword to stay upright, hoping to stave off sleep during their exchange. Stormy appeared vital in every sense. Her enthusiasm and energy refreshed him somewhat.

  “Tell me about where you come from,” she asked. “I’ve never been beyond the grotto.”

  “I hail from the Church of Red Dragon,” he pointed to his shield’s emblem. “Red Dragon was a warrior saint of yore, said to have slain countless primeval enemies during the church’s first years.”

  “What’s a church?” She asked.

  “Poor thing,” Peter brushed her hair away from her face. “A church is a house of worship where all feel safe and protected. My home church is a magnificent building of marble and stone with great statues of heroes and beautiful stained glass windows. When the sun rises and sets, its shining rays light up the church with every color of the rainbow.”

  “That sounds amazing,” Stormy said. “Out here we struggle to survive. Cold summers and colder winters mean very little food. My favorite time of the year is spring, when the warm air creates wonderful currents that I can use to fly easily. Feeling the wind underneath me, in physical form, is probably the most fun I ever have.”

  “I confess, such a thing would be wondrous to experience,” Peter admitted. “Were that I was stronger and had the time. I fear that tomorrow I must confront whatever evil spreads the corruption. If I do not leave in the morn, further diversions will keep me from my mission. That is unacceptable.”

  “I understand,” Stormy nodded in agreement. “I think we’re through with you. Thank you for being so patient with me. This is enough time. They won’t know I didn’t really try. Thank you again.”

  Stormy acted purely on instinct. Without realizing what she was doing, she leaned forward and kissed the man. She held his kiss for a precious few moments before pulling back shyly. Her blush covered the entire room as the air turned light red with her embarrassment. The air nymph quickly left the paladin to his sleep.

  She found the others waiting with crossed arms. They were each of them upset that they failed to win the game already. Losing to the least experienced of their number would infuriate them. Nymphs were never good losers. Stormy sighed and put herself in front of the firing squad.

  “So what happened?” Sylvia asked pointedly.

  “He’s too tired,” Stormy shrugged. “Nothing much happened at all.”

  “Ouch,” Crys rubbed her head in mock pain. “That had to hurt.”

  “I tried my best but he’s only a man after all,” Stormy lied.

  “This is true,” Icy added. “Men aren’t much for stamina.”

  They stayed up the rest of the night making one joke after another about mortal men’s incompetence. The combination of their voices sang through the night into the morning until the sun threatened to peak over the horizon again. Each of them bowed their respect to the contest and retired to their own domains. Their little contest had proven a lovely diversion. Somehow, they felt like they forgot something important in the process.

  Peter woke uneasily with the rising sun. He strapped on his armor, only forgetting a few of the buckles, and donned his sword and shield. His mighty steed carried his weight easily, for the horse spent the last week grazing on lush grasses. The paladin slumped forward slightly against the beast’s neck as he rode. They disappeared over the hills and headed straight into the gray gurgling corruption.

  That night, the nymphs got together one last time. Their contest left them with no clear winner. Each of them pouted with forlorn faces as they realized their only hope for winning left that morning. They tried everything short of completely dominating the human and they each failed. No greater insult ever occurred to a nymph than to be rejected so completely.

  “My subtlety and charms were wasted on such a man,” Icy complained. “He responded with as much warmth as my snow capped mountain.”

  “I got no farther with my caresses and physical encouragement,” Crys said. “Something about him shrugged off the stimulation.”

  “Spelling it out didn’t work either,” Sylvia frowned. “It’s like there was some kind of brick wall in his head instead of a brain.”

  “He was sweet though,” countered the air nymph. “He’s gone to fight the corruption for us at least.”

  “Oh yeah, that’s why we held this little contest in the first place,” Crys realized.

  “I forgot about that,” Sylvia admitted. “Having too much fun with our toy.”

  “Now he’s gone and life is boring again,” Crys sighed.

  “The corruption encroaches even more now that we have delayed,” Icy added.

  “I wonder if Peter is alright,” Stormy said. “He wasn’t feeling very well. Said he wasn’t sleeping much at night.”

  “As if we let him,” Sylvia giggled. “I suppose we could look for him.”

  “How do we do that?” Stormy asked.

  “With a contest of course,” Sylvia laughed. “First one to find him wins.”

  Sylvia summoned several of her woodland friends to search the corrupted area. Stormy asked the birds if they would be so kind as to fly over the decay and report what they found. Even Icy managed to find a spy in the form of her mountain goat. The three scouting parties returned that night with mixed news. Crys immediately complained that she had no such messengers to send, but the others ignored her.

  “My little friends said they could not get very far in the mire,” Sylvia admitted. “The
burning ground singed their fur and feet.”

  “The birds had little success also,” Stormy reported. “Hot gasses in the area prevented them from flying over it.”

  “Well my goat gave me interesting news,” Icy presented. “Apparently there is a very dark cloud heading this way from the corrupted area.”

  “So, what’s that got to do with anything?” Sylvia asked.

  “It moves against the wind,” Icy pointed out.

  “That is very strange,” Stormy shook her head in disbelief.

  “Perhaps we ought to search for him ourselves?” Crys suggested.

  “Ew, gross,” Sylvia squirmed. “Do we have to?”

  “He’s been gone all day and hasn’t come back,” Stormy said. “I’m worried.”

  “Plus it’ll finally settle our dispute,” Icy added. “Whoever finds him wins.”

  “I’m scared to go alone,” Stormy whined.

  “Hate to say it, but so am I,” Sylvia joined in.

  “We’ll have to go together,” Crys stated.

  “Oh fine then,” Icy yielded. “But it means no one wins.”

  They met up again the next morning at the edge of the corruption. It spread across half the prairie at this point. Its strange decay reached from the forest to the mountain. Nothing green survived inside the deadly area. Familiar features, hills, and rocks took on strange appearances. Their home slowly lost its battle against the intruder.

  It stunk worse than ever. The bleak setting gurgled across the ground with odd bubbles. Sulfur filled the air, making them all dizzy. Oppressive heat pressed against them.