As the sun turned the last green leaves of summer to brown an old fey lay dying. Curled on her bower of fragrant leaves at the summit of the Queen’s Oak, the Queen of the Summer Court was dying. A mysterious malady had afflicted the queen for some years, draining even her immortal vitality to the point of no return. Around her bed her most loyal subjects gathered, led by her two sons, the crown princes of Summer.
The elder, Tegorian, lent down as his mother struggled to whisper something to him. "Yes mother? What is it?" The fading voice of the Elder Fey barely reached even his supernatural hearing. "You must find your sister, Issiana. The kingdom is hers. My son, you must promise me, find your sister and protect her for me. Please… promise me." Staring into his mother’s eyes the prince bit his own finger and drew a sigil in blood over his heart.
“I swear mother. I will find our sister as you desire. The lost princess will return home." The queen sighed deeply and closed her eyes, slender chest finally stilling. The two princes bowed their heads for a moment before turning to the assembled court.
“Summer is over. Our queen is dead. Let all the court don the garb of autumn as we mourn our beloved ruler. She has named her daughter, Princess Issiana, as heir to the throne. Long live the Queen!" proclaimed Melvar, the younger prince. The assembled court echoed his sentiment and no-one heard a royal voice mutter "Yes… long live the King."
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“Kas!" and "Issi!" were two names capable of striking fear into the hearts of almost every gnome mother or father in Tarn-under-Hill. The most common response to one of those names was to ask ‘oh what have they done now?’ as the villages two resident troublemakers were almost guaranteed to have done something.
Quite how the son of the village chief and the adopted daughter of the village clockmaker had become such good friends was still something of a mystery but the results of the friendship had shaped village life for the past forty years or more. Only in the past few years had the pair settled down enough for the town gossips to begin speculating about when the pair would get married, rather than expressing outrage at their latest antics.
One fine autumn morning found one of the subjects of this rumourmongering, Issi Flamehair, wandering towards the market. Issi was of average height for a gnome (that is to say, just three feet) and possessed two feet of brilliant red hair which cascaded down her back in rippling waves, seeming almost to have a life of its own. She was being chased down the street by her constant companion, a firepelt panther, whose vivid colouring matched Issi’s own and had led to taunting when they were both younger.
Issi swung sharply around a corner before leaping out as her animal companion raced past, the two of them rolling around in a bundle of red and brown before they came rest, rather abruptly, against an unexpected pair of booted feet. Scrambling to her feet Issi brushed herself off and performed an odd bow/curtsey cross. "My apologies sir, please forgive our clumsiness." When no response came Issi looked up at the stranger and found him appraising her with a hard stare. She returned the stare with equal frankness and this standoff continued until the stranger abruptly turned on his heel and strode away.
Issi turned to Trax, who was scratching himself vigorously, and shrugged. "Big folk are very strange Trax." The panther cocked his head in a seemingly inquisitive motion before nabbing Issi’s small bag and racing off towards the market, Issi’s bell-like laughter ringing out across the village as she gave chase.
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There were more big folk than normal at the market Issi noted, a single big folk selling their wares was perfectly normal in Tarn-under-Hill, four seemingly very large men were scattered across the market and Issi noted the man she’d bumped into earlier talking to another big folk a few stalls away. She was happily talking to a friend of her mothers who was selling teapots from his front step when a muted bang drew the attention of every gnome in the market.
One of the big folk cursed loudly as he shook his burned hand, the misfiring pistol lying on the floor in front of him, barrel pointed squarely at Issi. Around the market the other three big folk drew weapons from their belts and closed in on Issi and the teapot seller, their intent clear on their faces. After a moments stunned silence the market erupted into noise. Many gnomes panicked and fled, although a few began bombarding the invaders with assorted missiles. One assassin fell when a particularly dense loaf of bread caught him above the ear but the other three converged on Issi and Trax, who had taken cover behind an ironmongers stall.
Trax, teeth bared leapt at the first man to approach, driving him back from Issi who was frantically searching for a way out. Trax yelped in pain as he was flanked by a second man who delivered a crushing kick into the panther’s ribs, bones cracking under the assault. Issi’s hair suddenly shifted to a blood-red hue as she screamed, a primal sound to match her companions, and flung her arms forward towards her assailants. The entire contents of the ironmongers stall was hurled towards the men who both crashed to the floor as Issi grabbed Trax and fled.
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The lead assassin cursed. Two of his men were down already, one of them permanently to judge by the large knife sticking out of his throat, and the target was fleeing. Yanking his last cohort up from the floor the leader set off in pursuit, heading for the clock-makers house.
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Issi slammed the door shut and bolted it, breathing heavily she glanced frantically around the house for a weapon of some sort she could use against the men who, inexplicably, seemed to want her dead. She only had minutes, but her mother was a genius, mad but still a genius. She could set some traps here.
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The assassin cursed long and low. The little b%~%! and her half sized friends had thwarted him at every turn. Finding the house had taken far too long as they found streets twisting around them and flaring lights blinding them at every turn. Then, when they finally found the house, some sort of animated clock bludgeoned his partner to death as he opened the door. On the bright side that meant all the gold was his once he killed the fire haired imp.
As he forced his way past the clock still blocking the entrance his grin grew large and feral – there she was, and that damned cat of hers, cowering in the corner like rats. Well, he knew what to do with rats…
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The same sunny morning found another gnome many miles away troubled by a nameless worry. If asked, Kas wouldn’t have been able to say why he was troubled, simply that he was and that was unusual in itself. Stretching after a night spent under a large tree he stood and instinctively scanned the area around him for his eidolon, the large white wolf who always accompanied him. She wasn’t there and Kas shrugged to himself before bending over to pack his bedroll and camping gear into his backpack.
“Kas!" The strangely deep voice came from behind him and had Kas leaping round, one hand reaching for his dagger. Standing before him was Zarya, his wolf eidolon. The glowing red swirls adorning her haunches and legs were rippling in a way Kas had never seen before.
“Kas, you have to hurry. Issi is in danger!" Kas couldn’t deny it, Zarya was actually speaking to him in clear, unaccented sylvan. The shock of hearing this voice drove the significance of her words from his head for a moment, until it burst back into his mind with the force of a lightning bolt.
“Issi’s in danger? How? Why? Curse it, we’ll never make it back in time. Zarya - we need to get back, now! You can explain what on earth is going on later!" A few minutes later the only visible sign of Kas’ campsite was a lonely wisp of smoke rising from the fire as the white wolf and its purple haired rider raced across the grasslands.
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Charging back into Tarn-under-Hill Kas arrived to a scene of pandemonium. The market was in uproar, focused on a huge knot of gnomes who seemed to be surrounding something on the floor. Zarya forced her way through the crowd as Kas stood on her back to see what was going on.
In the centre of the crowd, being held down by nearly a score of gnomish bodies was a big folk, clad in dark robes and obviously groggy from a huge bruise on his head. Another body, impaled through the throat, lay nearby.
Zarya nosed right up to the man, paw pressing on to the horrific burns adorning the man’s right hand, teeth bared as Kas growled questions at him from her back. "What are you doing here? Why are you trying to hurt Issi?" Faced with the huge teeth of the wolf and a lynch mob of gnomes the big folk started babbling answers as fast as he could.
“It was a job, some wierd man, looked like an elf, all that pointy ear beauty s*$%. Said there was gold in it for us, lots of gold if we could kill your princess. He described her, red hair ‘like fire’ he said. Told us we couldn’t miss it. Then she got Grok with that knife and I didn’t see any more. Please… please don’t kill me!”
His only answer was the crowd pushing closer as Kas and Zarya turned and raced for the clockmakers workshop - Issi’s refuge as long as they had known her. Bursting through the door with a thunderous crash they bounded over the clock and the mangled body beneath it, causing the remaining assassin to spin around as Issi’s body fell limp to the floor behind him. Standing over the two red haired bodies, his sword dripping blood, the assassin grinned, showing the red stained teeth of a rot-wein addict. "Great, more vermin and you brought your mutt too. Won’t save you little goblin half-breeds. I’ll kill you for free!" Zarya roars as she charges forward. At the same time Kas’ magic struck, a huge pool of grease toppling the bandit down. Zarya’s fangs and claws tears into the off balance assassin, ripping him to shreds.
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Kas’ attention quickly jumped from the battle to the bleeding girl on the floor. With tears in his eyes he rushed forward. "Issi, no! I was too late." His heart clenched in grief at seeing her lying there, so pale, on the floor the colour draining from her hair even as he watched. He knelt down in the blood and held her close as he began sobbing.
“Damn those devils! I knew we should have gotten here faster!" Suddenly he felt something well up inside him. A soothing wave of power, quite unlike his normal wild magic. As Zarya leaned over his shoulder the power poured out of him, flooding into Issi and Trax’s near lifeless bodies. Right before his eyes, her wounds closed up and her breathing eased before finally her eyes fluttered open. Beside her Trax gave a quiet growl as his breathing deepened from the laboured gasps of the dying into a more natural, restful pattern.
“Issi! You are alive!" Kas exclaims and in a spontanous burst of emotion he bent down and kissed her on the mouth. "I’m so thankful." A smile burst through his tearstained face.
“That was well done Kas," Zarya’s unnatural voice came from behind him. "She can’t be allowed to die, not now, not while the Throne is still unclaimed.”
Issi’s face was a mask of confusion and remembered pain. "Kas? What happened? I remember… pain." Her hand fluttered towards her chest "He stabbed me… right in the… how? Why? What did you do?”
“I believe I can answer that question." Both gnomes turned to face the wolf, Issi shifting slightly in Kas’ arms with confusion written all over her face. Eyes, burdened with a supernatural intelligence , stared softly at them both as they waited for an explanation.
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“I can’t tell you much," the wolf began, still speaking its pure, unaccented sylvan. "The passage into this world was… traumatic… and I’m not as strong as I once was. The Queen of Summer is dead and her death was not of natural means. Someone close to Her Majesty killed her, a prospect which has made many of the Court… nervous. The Crown Princes are claiming it was a plot by the Court of Winter but I don’t believe that, not now." The wolf’s eyes narrow as it pads forward to bow, crudely, at Issi’s feet.
“I cry pardon for being the bearer of bad news your highness. Your mother named you heir to the Court and Summer awaits your return. These… men… were sent to kill you, someone at the Court thinks to benefit from your death.”
“Court of Summer? What are you talking about?" Issi’s thought process was still sluggish from blood loss as Kai continued healing her wounds. "Who could possibly want to kill me?" Kas caught on quicker, shock writ plainly across his face. "It’s the Court of the Fey! You’re a Fae princess! I’ve read about the Summer Court. The Fae are our ancestors, our creators, and you’re one of them." Grief, relief, shock, excitement and a pang of disbelief chased each other through Kas’ heart so fast he could barely process them. Zarya nodded, "That’s right, you’re a princess of the Summer Court and your mother has named you as her Heir. It is now your task, your duty indeed to return to the First World and claim your throne.”
Issi blinked slowly before looking up at Kas, the question clear in her eyes. "Of course I’ll come with you, you silly hothead," he grinned. "Can’t just let you go wandering off into the world, you can’t even make it to market!" Issi’s smile was the widest he’d ever seen as she sprang up, kissed him hard on the lips and whirled around the room like a dervish, stuffing things into a backpack.
As she reached her foster mother’s desk she stopped in front of a small jewelry stand. Hanging from it was a slender golden chain with an exquisite emerald oak leaf hanging from it. Issi stared at it for a few moments and then gingerly reached forward to grasp it. "I remember. This was my mother’s… she gave it to me and told that one day I could use it to prove who I really am… How could I possibly remember that?”
Kas stepped up behind her, grasping her spare hand. "I don’t know, but how about we find out? Together?"
