Flash Fiction Magic: Feb 24 "Modern Fairytale"

This flash fiction prompt came from Emily Barnett, on Instagram @embarnettauthor.

Thornard Mackelmoor was on a mission.

Kill the evil troll usurper Gildron. Find and rescue the slightly less awful troll princess Freysa from her underground cave prison. Deposit her in her castle at her rightful place on the troll throne. Debrief the captain. Get back to Geranium Falls before midnight.

“Why midnight?” His partner, Gus, wanted to know. “It could be midnight before we even get out of the cave, Thorn.”

Thornard shifted to his other foot, putting a bit more distance between himself and Gus. A move that, fortunately, went unnoticed by his second in command.

He had to be back by midnight. He had… a date.

“A date?” Gus began to howl with laughter. “With who, Melinae?”

“Shut up, Gus. Your howling is going to get us killed.”

Gus quieted, but Thornard could still hear him snickering behind him. “And no, not with Melinae. She’s…” Terrifying? More evil than the trolls they were about to face? “Obviously not my type.”

But… Thornard had put her in prison, and now she refused to speak to anyone else. She’d chant his name until another interrogator was driven to madness by her siren’s voice and then he, Thornard Mackelmoor, a regular staff sergeant, was forced to come back to the dank, dark prison. He’d sit in front of the Queen of Nightmares while she confessed her offenses for hours, each one more awful than the last, until he just couldn’t take it anymore.

He’d leave, angry at her, angry at the prison lieutenant for not finding better interrogators. Angry at himself for growing callused to the things she’d say. Angry that he’d started to, for some reason, enjoy those visits.

That Gus would even joke about that made his blood boil, and he secretly hoped Gus would get hurt - only a little - on this mission.

Maybe she is more your type than you think, a small, angry voice whispered inside his head.

Thornard heard a snap off to his right that hurtled him through the muck of his frustration back into the present. He swung his fist up to motion for Gus and the others behind him to stop. More crackling came from the area surrounding them. Thornard crouched low and flattened his palm telling the others to do the same. The trolls were brutes but they had terrible eyesight, so camouflaging themselves was their best bet for taking on any scouts in the forest.

He smelled them before he saw them. Putrid, decaying, the way the stories describe the Dead White Army from two thousand years ago. He wondered if they were linked somehow. Thornard lifted his mask and heard his unit do the same just as the first gnarled head materialized through the trees.

The clash lasted no longer than thirty minutes. With Gus’s powder blue smoke trail weaving in and out trunks and bushes around them, Thorn’s squad was able to leverage the element of surprise and strike down each troll quickly. Efficiently.

The way Thornard liked it.

One troll was left, face down in the dirt, limbs bound. Gus paced in front of it, obscuring the squad’s identities from view with his fairy dust. The rest of Thorn’s squad were putting human coins and paper bills in the trolls’ pouches, payment for the deaths of someone’s family member, the recompense meant to show that the united Magic-Human army was here to make the whole world a better, safer, more stable place. With force, and with money.

“We may kill their fathers, brothers, hell even their children, sometimes - by accident, of course. But they’ll be protected from other worse things, and we’ll make sure they’re all tak-en-care-of.” The general had said this during Thorn’s orientation day. “It’ll make you sick, until it becomes part of your routine.”

Thorn thought the General was showing some compassion for human emotion. But he was just telling the truth. It was just part of the routine.

“Where’s the princess?” Thornard demanded of the troll on the ground.

“In the castle!” The troll was a female, and sounded… terrified.

“What do you mean she’s in the castle?”

“Someone came yesterday and got her out of the cave,” her voice came in staccato, wheezing bursts. “Forced Gildron to take her place down there. Someone like,” the troll jerked its head towards Gus. “You.”

Thornard’s insides sank. A fairy had already rescued the princess and somehow defeated Gildron. If it was news to him, it was news to the entire squad. But it wasn’t what made him feel sick.

He and his squad had just killed five trolls. Unnecessarily.

Melinae’s taunting voice swirled violently through his head. “I enjoy inflicting pain, causing terror. Not all of us were meant to be good. Maybe, Thornard, you’re more like me than you thought.”

“Let her go,” he commanded Gus through gritted teeth.

Gus gaped at him. “Thorn…”

“I said let her go.” Hopefully, Gus’s dust was enough to obscure them from view long enough to get back to their vehicles and get out of the forest. Hopefully, they wouldn’t encounter any other trolls on the way out.

Gus loosened the binds and stepped back, Thornard waved to him to lead Mainard, Brellis, Darkson and Fumelli back to the trucks. But before he went with them… he had to know.

“What color was the fairy’s dust?” The roiling in his stomach intensified with the anticipation of hearing what he feared most.

The troll was still on the ground at his feet, breathless, covered in mud and pine needles from their struggle. A pathetic sight.

“Like his. A bit more… purple.”

Thornard’s blood froze. Fairy siblings shared colors with variations of hue. He knew, but he didn’t want it to be true.

Gus’s pale blue dust cloud was fading, and Thornard knew his own face would be visible soon. He knew he should start running, or at least turn away. But he was stuck. Something was tugging on him, keeping him there until he spoke it into existence.

“I’m sorry,” he finally muttered. Then, more to convince himself than the troll at his feet, he added, “I’m not a bad guy.”

He didn’t wait to hear if the troll acknowledged his apology. He had to get out of there.

He had to, somehow, prove to himself that he was not a bad guy. He had to prove it to Rose. Needed her to tell him that he was good. Needed tonight’s midnight meeting to be the one that absolved him.

Rose, with her breathtaking periwinkle cloud and her infuriating desire to do good the right way, His jumbled thoughts of her were interrupted by the equally infuriating, terrifying fact that a fairy with periwinkle dust would now be the General’s personal, number one target.

Thornard ran.