Bowman of Wellwood

By Nina Jamesine

Bowman Leafwing is always flying himself right into trouble. In an idyllic forest haven, a young wood sprite must make his own adventures, and Bowman does so by sneaking out at night to fly in the dark. After a race with his friends is interrupted by an owl, Bowman makes a discovery that the village of Wellwood hasn’t seen in generations.

Giant beings right out of the legends have moved into the forest, and though Bowman was once proud of his lofty four inch height, these newcomers tower over even him. Curiosity and miscommunication land Bowman in trouble, and he is left wondering: are these "humans" enemies, or are they allies?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9780359431731

Book preview

Bowman of Wellwood

Title

Bowman of Wellwood

Nina Jamesine

Copyright Page

Copyright © 2018 Nina Jamesine

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

Cover Artwork created by Anthony Avon

Find the artist at: https://www.artstation.com/anthonyavon

ISBN: 978-0-359-43173-1

Dedication

Special thanks to Jessie, Heather, Rachel, Kim, and all my other writing friends over the years.

I couldn’t have done it without you.

Bowman of Wellwood

1 – Giants in Wellwood

Well after the sun settled below the horizon and cast the forest into the calm sounds of night, Bowman Leafwing stole away into the dark. The gentle moonlight guided his flight, and his wings barely whispered as he glided through the air. Keen eyes, bright green like leaves with the sun behind them, scanned his surroundings and he pressed on. The nighttime race awaited.

Brown skin and green clothing served to conceal him among the trees, and Bowman used the low hanging branches as he navigated through the forest. He knew it well, but in the night he had to watch for the forest's other denizens.

He might stand at a proud four inches, already at his full height at only eighteen, but that didn't mean a thing to an owl or a fox. A wood sprite like him would make a meal all the same if he dropped his guard.

The threat of danger wouldn't turn him away any more than it would any other young wood sprite. The night races held up to generations of scolding. Bowman prided himself on upholding one of the oldest traditions in Wellwood.

With the cluster of pine trees and the village's proud cottonwood tree far behind him, Bowman banked towards the sound of a rushing stream. Water brushed past rocks and grass and all but whispered his name until he landed at its banks to wait. Of course he was the first to arrive.

He folded his leaf-like green wings to his back and stood with his hands on his hips to wait. Bowman, impatient as ever, cut a notable profile even with only moonlight to illuminate him. Wild hair the color of pine needles added to his height and his wings would reach a wingspan of nine inches if he were to fan them open.

Moments later, he did just that to greet the faint sound of other leafy wings heading his way. Two shapes emerged out of the dark and landed near him, one with a spring in his steps and the other ready to fall asleep where he stood.

Bowman's friends greeted him with twin smirks. Blue, energetic enough to bounce on the springy ground, had a determined spark in his eyes. Gilt could barely keep his eyes open.

Glad you made it, sleepyheads, Bowman noted. He raised an eyebrow at Gilt and reached out with a wing to nudge him awake.

Gilt flicked his own wing and stifled a yawn, but his brother leaned forward. "Tonight's race is mine, Leafwing, he announced. You won't even catch my tailwind."

While Blue showed off his wings and Bowman pretended to be intimidated, Gilt yawned again while asking something unintelligible.

Bowman rolled his eyes. Come again?

Gilt huffed and blinked rapidly to wake himself up more. I said did you get anyone else to show up, he asked.

Bowman shrugged, but there was a knowing spark in his eyes. Just a couple, he admitted. Jiria Petalkin and a new girl ... Rose.

"We'll have some competition with both Bowman and Jiria racing, Gilt murmured. He stretched his arms overhead and his wings out to the side, and his brother slapped one wing when it intruded on his space. I may as well sleep this one off."

Before Blue or Bowman could argue otherwise, more wings fluttered in the dark. Jiria, her many pastel braids whipping in the air behind her, led a shy-looking fellow wood sprite to the others. Bowman had four opponents in the race for the night.

They were making it too easy for him.

Are we ready? he asked. Several pairs of leaf green wings fanned open.

Are you? Jiria shot back. Then, as if they had planned it, she, Blue, and Gilt all took off, darting into the night. Bowman and Rose let out cries of surprise and leapt into the air to follow.

They all ducked and wove around branches and hanging vines in the dark, with Jiria stealing an early lead. Bowman grinned as, for all her effort, his own speed outdid hers. Disbelieving laughter rang through the night as he gained on the cheaters.

Crime doesn't pay! he called as he overtook Gilt, and then Blue.

Jiria and Bowman were neck and neck. She strained her wings for more speed, and then Bowman cackled and swept ahead. Indignant cries drove him forward. His wings, honed each and every day since he was a nestling big enough to flutter into the air, came through for him.

He whirled around to hover far ahead of the group, his grin visible in the moonlight. "Who's the one they all doubted? Who's got the wings of a hawk and the moves of a serpent? Who just left you all in the wind?"

They closed in on him, flashing their own grins or mock-pouts. Bowman swelled with pride to have wrestled the lead back after the others took their head start. He could brag about that for days, if not weeks.

He almost suggested a second round, but a hollow, whistling call echoed all around them and chilled their bones.

An owl, Jiria hissed.

Scatter!

Bowman didn't know who yelled it, but they all listened. A massive bird swept its bulk through the air only a second later, cutting through the space they had only recently occupied. Nasty talons closed on air.

This time.

Bowman lost sight of his friends as he darted to and fro among the trees. The owl chose to pursue him, and his heart pounded with the unique knowledge that any prey knows—the creeping feeling of a target on one's back and a single objective in one's head: escape.

Bowman put his skills to use, diving through vines and around trees in effort to lose that silent predator and its talons. Wood sprites were peaceful folk, but they knew there was no reasoning with an animal that aimed to eat them. Survival drove the pair through the trees and there could only be one winner.

At length, Bowman glanced back and saw no sign of the tenacious owl. To be safe, he darted around the trees at high speeds, wings straining as they hurtled him through the air. He couldn't risk leading that thing back towards the village.

He glanced backwards one more time, and flew into a soft wall.

Thick cloth pulled taut and dazed him, and Bowman tumbled down its slope. Seconds later, he hit the ground with a grunt of impact and lay there for several seconds while his head stopped spinning. His ears buzzed, and his hands and the tips of his wings tingled.

As soon as his vision cleared, he shot to his feet. The wall of cloth had to be over sixty inches high, and it was supported by perfectly straight sticks of a strange material.

It was the biggest tent he had ever seen. He'd made them out of twigs and blankets as a nestling, but this one was so much grander than anything he had ever made on his own. No sprite could make something like that. No sprite had metal stakes to drive into the ground.

That was when he heard something beyond that tent. Something that sent his nerves racing so quickly that his wings flared open behind him. Rumbling voices spoke somewhere beyond the tent, and Bowman jolted so badly from the sheer volume that he forgot to parse the words.

Something, more than one something, waited just beyond the massive structure of cloth. Bowman wasted no time dashing towards one side of it. Even if he only caught a quick peek, he had to see what they were. It was his job to warn the village about threats, even if he wasn't supposed to be out this late at night.

He frowned at how straight the corner of the tent was, before ducking around it. It was the edge of a wide clearing, one that Bowman recognized from his daytime patrols. In the night, it had an eerie, unfriendly quality to it.

Flickering orange light bounced off the trees. Fire light. Whatever waited on the other side of the tent, these impossibly huge and loud beasts were playing with fire. Bowman shuddered.

He crept closer to the last corner of the enormous cloth-house. The creatures were talking and laughing, but he was nervous to look at them. He couldn't fathom a face to match such thunderous voices. His wings twitched.

He took a deep breath, and then, with no more excuses not to, peeked cautiously around the cloth corner.

What he saw sent another shiver up his spine. Sitting cross-legged around a dying fire pit the size of a sprite dwelling were three giants. Bowman's jaw dropped. They towered over him even sitting down, and one looked like it could reach over seventy inches tall if it stood.

Just that morning, after his slow waking and a wild berry breakfast, he'd told his young cousin Rischa that giants aren't real. That there was nothing to worry about out there so long as he didn't fly too low to the ground. Everyone knows, Birdie, he'd told her. There's just us sprites out here.

They weren't as hideous and terrifying as he'd imagined, gargantuan size aside. They were sprite-shaped, but they had no wings. Their faces were shaped the same, but their skin was much paler than any wood sprite Bowman had ever met. They had hair on the top of their heads, same as a sprite, but one had yellowish hair and another had hair as black as pitch.

Bowman narrowed his eyes. The third giant, head topped with normal-looking brown hair, could glance over and spot him at any second, so he dared not move and alert it to his presence. So far, the things had no idea that a wood sprite lurked nearby.

They all held metal cylinders in their hands that they occasionally lifted to their huge mouths. Whatever the metal contained, they slurped down more liquid than a sprite could drink in a whole day.

After taking stock of their appearance, Bowman finally decided to really listen to the booming words they said.

The yellow-haired one rumbled I don't know any stupid ghost stories. That's lame. Bowman caught a glimpse of its eyes. They were blue, like the sky in the middle of the day. No wood sprite had ever had such pure blue eyes.

The brown haired one shrugged, massive shoulders moving in a casual motion that could probably knock someone over if they got in the way. What did we even bring you for, it teased. Its friend sneered and Bowman frowned. They were so sprite-like.

He listened to more of their banter, gaze flickering to the fire every few seconds. He couldn't believe they weren't more wary of it. Fire was dangerous.

My granddad told me that there's this super old tree somewhere in the forest. If you sleep under it, you'll wake up free of any pain or something like that, Yellow-hair mused. Bowman's eyebrows shot up.

Granddad's not that far off the mark...

Normal-looking giant shook its head. Your grandpa always says weird shit, though, dude. It took a huge swig of its metal drink. Bowman smirked. These giants made up strange words. He crouched down, watching intently, and listened for more.

By the time their embers had mostly died, the normal looking giant yawned. Bowman jolted back to alertness and his heart jumped to his throat at the sight of an enormous mouth open so wide. Then, the giant announced, Guys, I think I'm gonna get some sleep. Hiking up here took it out of me. Loud mumbles of agreement echoed from the other two.

Then, they all stood. Bowman looked up ... and up ... and up as they reached their full heights. They might not stand as high as the trees, but they were impossibly tall all the same.

Bowman ducked back behind the tent and ran as fast as his legs would carry him. Once safely beyond their sight, his wings unfurled and he glided off into the night.

The nobles needed to hear about this.

2 – Critical Information

Bowman returned to the village of Wellwood so swiftly that his wings quivered from the exertion. Even in the dark, he found his way among the trees, guided by the familiar twists and turns and, at last, the sound of the stream. He could only hope the others had found their way back, too. With giants around, the forest they called home had a brand new danger lurking out there.

Up ahead, the village came into view. A cluster of pine trees stood proudly and swayed in a faint breeze. Their needles, black in the night, rattled and rasped against each other, and not a single lantern illuminated their branches or the houses on them.

Every branch held a sprite house seamlessly grown from the wood itself, Prayed into shape generations back. Round, uneven windows dotted the pine-fragrant dwellings, but no faces peered out in the middle of the night. No one suspected Bowman's frantic return.

At one end of the cluster of pines grew a wild rosebush, and just beyond it was a clearing. The circular clearing was home to the Big Oak, Wellwood's oldest tree and the very center of the forest. A ring of younger oaks hemmed it in, a fairy circle said to have been made when the Earth Spirit Herself touched the world.

In the daytime, sunlight would fill that grassy space with golden light, filtering around the branches of the Big Oak and warming the wings of the sprites darting to and fro through the air. There would be sprites lounging on the platforms grown into its trunk or trudging along the stairways spiraling around it. Sprites would be fluttering to the ground at the base of the tree where the Well itself waited, a symbol of the pure water to be found throughout the forest. Everything thrived, and it was easiest to see it in the daytime.

In the night, Bowman's return to his home was subdued with fear. Long shadows that could belong to a giant, reaching hand seeped over everything. The ground between the pines was murky and hidden, rather than bustling with the hopping of nestlings learning to fly.

Opposite the rosebush, there was a cottonwood tree. Even at night, its pale bark drew him like a beacon, and Bowman flitted around a tuft of spade-shaped leaves to find the main balcony of the largest sprite-made structure in the forest.

Like the dwellings on the pines, it was all Prayed into the living wood. The balcony stood high above the ground, but not as high as those giants did. Bowman shuddered as he dove towards it.

There was a tall opening into the trunk of the tree, where halls twisted and turned deep within it and out into its branches, housing the knights and whichever sprites had earned their place among the nobility. Deeper within the trunk, the elders of Wellwood wrote in the Archives, a history inked into the walls forever.

Bowman wondered if those histories, generations of them, had ever seen anything like what he found. He tucked his wings to his back and strode purposefully towards the tall doorway.

Bowman?

He jolted and whirled around in time for another shape to land on the balcony with him. As she jogged over to him, he recognized Jiria's worried face in the moonlight. Bowman, oh Spirit, you're okay, she whispered. Everyone else made it back, but we weren't sure ...

Bowman held up his hands to placate her, even while his wings twitched at the very thought of that owl catching him. I'm fine, I dodged the owl, he whispered, realizing how out of breath he was. I just need to report something before I get some blasted sleep after all that. You should go on home and I can tell you tomorrow.

Jiria frowned dubiously, but Bowman didn't give her time to argue. He turned and strode into the halls of the cottonwood tree. Dark fell over his head, but he glanced aside and followed the soft glow of a lantern into a room where one of the attendants dozed on a cot.

I need to speak to someone, he announced.

The attendant all but flailed himself awake and rolled off his cot. When he sat up, he blinked at Bowman like he wasn't sure he was really there. Leafwing, you already gave your patrol report for the day, he slurred. Sleep clung to his wings and they splayed over the floor.

Bowman rolled his eyes, but stooped to help the other sprite to his feet. In the nighttime, without the sun fueling their leaf wings, most wood sprites were slow to wake. I know that, he snarked. "I found something new. Uh. Just now. It's really important that I let one of the nobility know."

The attendant raised an eyebrow at him and smirked. The night races were against the rules, but everyone knew about them. Bowman had built a reputation for himself among the village for his antics.

The attendant nodded anyway. Alright, Bowman. I'll send whoever's awake to the normal reporting room.

And then, with their goals in mind, the two sprites were off. Bowman hurried through the halls to the room where he usually reported his patrols, and an unfamiliar gravity weighed on his shoulders. In his years patrolling, he'd never had something this big to report on.

Emphasis on big.

His path led him through one of the thick branches of the tree into a room with a large window on either side. The soft moonlight filtered in and lent him a view of the familiar room. Chairs waited to the side, but he stayed on his feet. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and wouldn't allow any rest yet. His fingers drummed on his thigh and his wings flexed in an absent pattern.

Giants aren't real. They're not real. But then what in the Spirit's dance did I find?!

The unnerving silence stretched until it filled half an hour before voices approached. Bowman sighed and turned to greet them.

Four other sprites entered, and Bowman nodded in a show of formality. Three Lords had come, and one tottering little elder drifted behind them. As soon as she was helped to a seat, she held her spindly hands in front of herself. Earth Spirit, Lady of Life, she muttered, we beseech you for sight.

No sooner had the words left her mouth than flower petal lanterns hanging from the ceiling bloomed in a soft light that filled the room like a gentle tide. The elder watched the last of the lanterns sputter to life before nodding in approval and fixing the cloak over her old, withered wings.

Bowman Leafwing, one of the nobles greeted. Cerul Elanwyn the Far Seeing, Bowman recalled.

Next to Cerul was none other than Scar Wolfblind himself, the High Knight of Wellwood and the bravest wood sprite the forest had ever seen. Even Bowman couldn't claim Scar's boldness. Scar stood proudly with a stern look reserved only for the young sprite calling them all together. Bowman couldn't meet his gaze.

The third Lord gave Bowman a nod but said nothing. Cerul spoke up before an awkward silence could form. I assume you have a very good reason for this incredibly late call, he said, raising a pale green eyebrow. His dull gold eyes fixed on Bowman, and Bowman felt a sense of the reason for Cerul's title.

Leafwing's bound to have quite a tale for us, Scar added in his gruff voice. He crossed his arms. Regale us, boy.

Bowman nodded quickly. Right. Yeah. I've discovered something ... new. Just tonight.

The third Lord smirked and finally spoke, Our unofficial night patrol.

What did you see? Cerul asked steadily. Even the elder leaned forward, her tired eyes peering at Bowman with interest.

Bowman took a deep breath, and then he told them.

They didn't say a word, but their faces said that they didn't believe it. Bowman frowned. They were almost seventy inches tall! he insisted. Real giants, here in Wellwood!

"Really, boy? Seventy inches? That's near six feet tall! Scar finally asked. His eyes glittered with restrained curiosity. Tell us more."

Bowman nodded, stubbornness driving him on. He delved into a more detailed description of the giants, their sprite-like but pale appearance, and their strange lack of wings. Even through their skeptical glances, he told them everything he'd seen.

Lord Cerul was the first to answer after a heavy pause. "Well, Leafwing, this does sound like a rather interesting discovery. You are sure? Bowman nodded. Cerul sighed. I believe that you believe in what you saw, he said delicately. Nothing of the sort has been heard of before, outside of bedtime stories." Bowman's heart fell. Of the three of them, he'd had hopes for Cerul to listen to him.

The third noble, whose name Bowman still didn't know, interjected. This is true. Perhaps this was one late flight too many and lack of sleep confused your eyes. His smile was benign, but Bowman could only return a disappointed frown.

What should I say to prove it? he answered. He shrugged and held his hands up in exasperation, his wings mimicking the motion behind him. I know what I saw.

I don't think he's confused, Cadmi. They all turned to the elder, who hadn't spoken since saying her Prayer. First of all, he has no reason to lie. The nobles paused, and then nodded.

In fact, the elder continued, "judging by the state he's in, he flew straight here as quickly as the wind allowed him. When I was young and my wings were strong, I'd never think of cutting my flights short only to play an elaborate prank on the nobles." She smiled and her brown face wrinkled in a pattern that showed she did it often.

Lord Cerul smiled indulgently. A fair point.

The elder nodded and her look became serious. "Furthermore, there has been record of such beasts before. We may tell the tales to the nestlings as if they are false, but I have seen stories in the Archives. Deep within this very tree are accounts of these giant, wingless beings."

Lord Scar whistled. So what are they? Are they dangerous? His wings twitched and his hand clenched into a fist, as if he might rally the knights into a battle right then and there.

The elder nodded gravely. Very. I wish they remained a legend. Her eyes found Bowman and her gaze froze him in place. You're quite lucky that they didn't catch you, young one. These giants are cruel by nature. They would capture sprites to whisk them far away from home, and when they didn't cook them for food, they put them in cages and sometimes tore at their wings.

Bowman winced and his wings twitched in disapproval, an empathetic pain for the