The String Bean And The Firefly

By GeAnn Powers

Ariel is a fairy princess from a colony of scavengers. Her life has been one of hunger, emptiness, and fear. In a year’s time, she will have to choose one of her ruthless barbarian kin to marry, and be condemned to a life of servitude and hopelessness.

Basil is a well-educated young elf, used to a life of books, warmth and friendship. With his pack full of vials and potions, he was just wanting to get home.

But after one chance encounter in a spider's web, their lives entangle, and their worlds will never be the same again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Next Chapter
• Release date: Feb 1, 2023

Book preview

Dill, Ariel, and Basil

Chapter 1

The Spider

1ST WEEK OF APRIL

What was done could not be undone.

She’d broken the knife. She hadn’t intended to, and the whole fairy colony was staring at her.

It wouldn’t have happened if Dragon hadn’t wanted a kiss! she grumbled, but it was too late.

In the half-light of early morning, the adult males of the tribe gathered in the middle of their barn home, forming a hunting party. As they prepared to leave, they each wanted good luck kisses from their women. Unlike kisses of affection, these were more about ownership. A reminder that the males were the ones in charge, with all the power, and the women better do as they were told.

Give me a kiss, Ariel! Dragon barked at her.

Ariel stood outside the group, holding a spear of her own. Of course, she wasn’t going with the hunting party because she wasn’t a male. She was only fifteen and not yet an adult. Still, she planned to hunt for herself after they left.

She glared at Dragon. At six inches, he was half a head taller than her, but she wasn’t intimidated.

I’m not your wife, she reminded him.

You will be soon enough. So, you’d better get used to doing as I tell you.

"I’m not your wife." They weren’t betrothed, but everyone expected them to be. Dragon acted like they were.

He wasn’t pleased with her response. Give me a kiss! he demanded.

Ariel glared at him, defiance pulsing in her every fiber. She was NOT his property. Not yet anyway. She shook her head.

That didn’t improve Dragon’s attitude, but it did get him moving. He charged at her, determined to catch her and force her compliance.

She dodged out of his way and darted around behind some of the others. He followed and the cat-and-mouse game continued. But when Ariel dove behind her father, she accidentally knocked his arm hard enough to send his knife flying from his hand of its own accord.

The glass blade, formed from a shard of a blue bottle, was very rare. Her father took great pride in that knife. In hitting his arm, Ariel sent the knife on an unfortunate journey into the one hard object in the area: a cement block. The blade tip snapped off on impact, rendering the shard useless.

Now, the whole hunting party and their women stared.

Dragon smirked.

Ariel really didn’t care about him at the moment. What she did focus on was her father. At first, he looked surprised as his weapon unexpectedly escaped his grasp. His expression turned to shock when the instrument betrayed him by breaking. But now, now that the full implications of the tool’s uselessness sank in, anger quickly sprouted, and he turned accusing eyes on his youngest daughter.

Ariel shrank under his glare. Being caught by that look was never a good thing. She turned and ran. Past her father, past Dragon and the other hunters. As soon as she was out of the cluster, she spread her wings and took to the air. The girl flew over the other flyer fairies, gathered in their groups on the floor of the old barn, nesting in the tools and instruments rotting where they hung forgotten on the walls and perching among the weakening rafters. Up to the top of the hayloft, wings beating rapidly, and out the opening where the door had rotted away long ago. She paused in her flight then, wings spread wide and still. There was a second of freefall before the wind current caught her and lifted her up and away from her barn home.

The barn sat forgotten in the back field of a small Kansas buffalo ranch. The fifty temperamental bison that called the ranch their home, were lazing their way across the twenty-acre meadow to where their owner’s pickup slowly bumped its way to their feeding area with a load of hay. There was little chance of the driver seeing one sparrow-sized girl, but she avoided heading his direction anyway.

She also knew better than to fly near the two-lane road with its early morning traffic of occasional semi-trucks, pickups and combines taking farmers to their fields. She didn’t like chancing becoming a smear on their grill or windshield as they drove past at 50 mph. Likewise, she stayed away from the noisy train chugging its way past the farms dotting the landscape with its cargo of goods headed to Wichita. Instead, she zoomed towards the grove of trees that bordered the field and followed the creek housed there until, at last, she lightly landed beside the softly babbling stream.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! she chastised herself. And it's not even fair! It wasn’t my fault! It was because of Dragon!

She sat down on the bank, wrapped her arms around her legs, put down her head and fumed. She would be punished. There was no doubt of that. The knife was rare and her father’s prized possession. The punishment would be severe! Worst of all, Dragon would be sure to watch, laughing the whole time! Oh, how she hated him! He was spiteful and a bully. And he expected her to marry him someday!

I gotta find something, Ariel told herself. Something to help make up for the broken knife. Something special. Then maybe it won’t be so bad. And Dragon won’t get to laugh.

She sprang up and took to the air again, her eyes frantically darting in every direction as she sped through the grove. What could she bring back? A robin’s egg? No, too common. A freshly killed mouse for dinner? Maybe. But that would be a heavy load to take back on her own. Perhaps the rubbish heap behind the neighboring farmhouse might have a treasure hidden there for her.

She suddenly stopped, stunned at what she spotted nestled in the crook of a tree. There was something very uncommon indeed!

It was an elf, but not anything like her. He wasn’t a flyer because he didn’t have wings. He was paler than anyone she’d ever seen, and he was asleep. She hovered there staring.

He looked to be a few years older than her. His hair was the color of sun-bleached wheat. He didn’t have antenna on his head like she did, and his ears were pointed. His clothes looked like a tiny version of what a human might wear: shirt and pants, a cloak, a straw hat, and boots. Oh! What magnificent boots! Hers were mere scraps of fur tied on with old string. His boots were leather and beautiful!

She stared at the boots. If there was a way to get them, her father would definitely be pleased with her. But would they fit? This elf wasn’t as big as her father was. And could she possibly get them without waking him? She doubted it.

Disappointed, she scrutinating the elf, and once again, her gaze froze. He was leaning against a backpack. She couldn’t imagine what it held, but she knew there was no way to get it. Behind it was an ornate walking stick wedged tight between the pack and the tree trunk. That was a possibility, but it would take time to work it free. She looked further and zeroed in on an incredible prize: there on his belt, was a sheaf with a knife in it! She couldn’t take the sheaf, but procuring the knife was highly possible!

Silently, she fluttered closer to the sleeping elf. Biting her lip, she slowly grasped the knife handle, and pulled. The knife didn’t come out. She hadn’t noticed the strap across the handle, holding the knife securely in place. Her tugging had no effect on the knife’s location but had a definite impact on its owner.

The elf woke up. His eyes locked with the flyer’s, startled. What are you doing?! he demanded and jerked away from her, lost his balance, and tumbled out of the tree. The backpack and walking stick slid off the branch and decided to join him.

The elf landed on his feet, unharmed twenty feet below. He freed himself from the tangle of his cloak as his walking stick clattered to the ground beside him. The young male caught the falling knapsack, the weight of which knocked him flat on his back. Slowly, he sat up and glared at the young female.

Ariel glared back. There was no way she was getting the knife now.

Who are you? the stranger demanded. What were you doing up there?

Nothing, she lied. "Who are you? And what were you doing in a tree?"

I was sleeping. He quickly checked the sun’s position. It’s not even seven o’clock yet!

Ariel had no idea what seven o’clock meant, but she wasn’t going to let this stranger know. She lifted her chin high and glared at the boy with royal poise as she drifted down to the ground. "I’m the Princess Ariel, daughter of SkyKing, the ruler of this land and sky."

I'm honored, the stranger replied as he looked at the example of flyer royalty. His tone said he was anything but honored.

Despite her princess-ness, Ariel suddenly felt very inferior. His hair was smooth and clean; hers was a ratted mess and never washed. His clothes were neat and fancy-looking; she wore filthy skins for a tunic. He was free of any dirt; she was caked with days-old mud. Everyone in her tribe was ragged and filthy. No one ever thought anything of it. But here now, in front of this complete stranger, she felt ashamed.

"Who are you? she shouted. And why were you up there?"

"My name is Basil, and I was sleeping."

She scoffed at that. Bay-zil? That’s a plant! You were named after a plant?

The boy didn’t respond other than to raise an eyebrow.

The princess looked him over again. You don’t have any wings. What are you?

A hopper.

The girl snorted. She’d heard of these lesser elves. A type of pixie that hopped like a grasshopper. She’d never seen one before. She drilled him further. Why are you in flyer territory?

Basil's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the fairy. Flyers belong in the sky, he informed her. "Hoppers belong on the ground. Who’s in whose territory?"

Ariel's cheeks flushed, but she wasn't giving in to a hopper. "Flyers own this sky and the land. You have no right to be in either. "

The boy laughed. Oh, I haven't, have I? Basil scoffed as he stood up and brushed himself off. This is Elyon’s Land. I have as much right to be here as you do. He owns the wind and tells it when to blow. And He plants the trees and shows them how to reach to the sky. He feeds the deer and the rabbits and follows their comings and goings. You want to be here? Elyon’s ok with that. But I’m fairly sure He doesn’t appreciate you trying to steal from people.

He glared at her in silence for a minute.

She glared back, hot, and fiery. I don’t answer to hoppers. she finally informed him.

I don’t care, he countered. Right now, I want some peace and quiet, away from a self-absorbed flying argument waiting to happen. The hopper quickly gathered his belongings, gave a mocking bow, and tipped his hat to her.

Good day, ‘princess’. He turned and bounded away.

Ariel’s wings vibrated as she stared angrily after the young man. Stupid hopper, she growled. She considered their conversation for a few seconds and had a question.

Who’s Elyon? she called after him.

Another thought crossed her mind and she shrugged.Why do I care? She had places to go and things to do today, and this hopper wasn’t worthy of a second more of her time wasted, thinking about him.

As Basil hopped along, he thought about the young flyer he had just met. She had been on par with every story he’d heard about flyers: dark and dirty, dressed in rags and fur, and meanspirited. He shook his head.

Repulsive, he remarked to no one in particular. Thank you, Elyon, for not making me a flyer.

He looked up as a small shadow passed over him. It was the flyer he’d just met. She glared darkly at him as she flew over and tossed her head as if he were insignificant. Basil noticed she wasn't watching where she was going.

Look out! he cried.

Surprised, the girl looked down at him, and crashed headfirst into a spider's web. Ariel hung there dazed, suspended upside-down in the sticky strands. She felt the web jiggle and fear gripped her heart. The web’s occupant was at home.

Basil stared up in horror. He instantly realized he had two options: leave the arrogant flyer to her fate or do what he could to help. As irritating as the girl had been, the first option hardly even flickered in his thoughts. His hand instinctively went for the slingshot in his back pocket as his eyes scanned the ground for a suitable pebble.

Ariel screamed as the spider advanced toward her. Try as she might, she had no luck jerking free from the sticky strands that held her in this adhesive prison. She could barely move, and the arachnoid quickly closed the distance between them.

A stone whizzed through the air. It struck the beast and knocked it off the web. In its place, the hopper appeared. He had his walking stick tucked under one arm as he pulled his dagger out of its sheath. Basil started cutting Ariel loose of her bonds.

Get out of here! he yelled as the last strand was cut.

The spider’s exit was only temporary. The creature quickly scurried back up to its lair and once again zeroed in on their location. Sheathing the knife, the hopper turned to face the hungry beast, holding the walking stick like a quarterstaff.

Elyon, don’t fail me now, he breathed as the spider advanced.

Ariel flew clear of the web and put ten yards of distance between herself and the battle scene. There she stopped and turned to watch. Now it was the hopper the spider targeted as a meal.

Just leave! her instincts shouted. This isn’t your fight now. She knew that was what she should do. But still, she hesitated. That hopper was only fighting off the spider because he’d come to her rescue. She hadn’t asked for or expected his help. Yet, she was alive because of him. She watched him standing there on the web like a man on a ladder, holding onto the web with one hand, swinging his staff with the other. It wasn’t a good fighting position.

The spider circled, always facing its potential lunch, trying to get a better position. Basil was holding off the bug, but that wouldn’t last for long.

The girl bit her lip. What to do, what to do? Then a thought popped into her head: if the spider killed the hopper, it would wrap the knife up in the web with its prey and the weapon would be gone forever.

That propelled Ariel into action. If nothing else, she needed to help the hopper for the knife’s sake.

Basil knew he was fighting a losing battle. The spider was nearly as long as he was and could out-maneuver him on its home turf. Perhaps he could jump down? No, the web’s adhesive would slow him enough for the spider to strike before he could pull free. Could he knock the spider off the web with his staff? Unlikely. The stone had been unexpected.

All the hopper could do was hold on and parry the lunges as the beast circled. Suddenly, the flyer appeared behind the spider, startling Basil into losing his focus on his opponent. That’s when it lunged in, sinking its fangs into his right leg. As the girl plunged her spear into the creature, killing it, Basil screamed out against the intense pain as venom flowed into his body.

It was too late. Ariel had not been quick enough to save the hopper. She grabbed him up in her arms as his limbs went slack and took to the air again. She could feel his body beginning to convulse as she hunted for safety. The poison was already setting in. Ah! There was a woodpecker hole! Hopefully, the owner wouldn’t be in it. She flew in and deposited her load.

Basil quickly slid off his backpack and dumped its contents on the floor of the hollow. His whole body was shaking as he fought against the venom invading his system and his breath came in heavy, ragged gasps.

Ariel watched in amazement as he fumbled through the spilt supplies. What is he doing? she wondered. He's dying; what could he possibly be looking for?

In answer, Basil grabbed a leather parcel with shaking hands, checked the label with blurring eyes, and quickly unrolled the leather strip. Four glass vials dropped out. Basil picked up one, uncorked it and drained the liquid contents into his mouth. He pulled out his knife again as he kicked off his boot, and sliced his pant leg from ankle to knee, exposing the ragged puncture wounds of the spider bite.

Basil then opened another vial - one with power this time - and dumped its contents on the wound. He let out a scream of pain, but held the cloth to the injury, letting the powder seep into the punctures. Quickly, he tied it in place with the strap. Breathing hard, Basil sat back and stared up at Ariel with glassy eyes.

Thank you, he croaked. Two seconds later, he collapsed in an unconscious heap.

Ariel stared at his crumpled form, perplexed. She had seen death many times in her own colony, but never like this. And it was strange that the first hopper she’d ever met should die right before her. Die, did she say? No, he wasn't quite dead yet. She could still hear his labored breathing, but she knew it would soon end. No elf could survive a spider's bite. Her eyes turned to the discarded pack. By rights, she could now claim it.

His hat lay on the floor. It was of pale-yellow braided grass with a grass-green band and a short apple-red feather. Ariel