Gossamyr Read Online Free PDF Page B

bare feet. She must have landed on the edge of
Glamoursiege territory, for the Spiral forest spun down to the border
between tribes.
    The Netherdreds inhabited the perilous flatlands that surrounded
large mortal cities, for their kind thrived in the unstable
atmosphere that separated Faery from the Otherside. (Faery simply did
not exist in the large cities. Densely populated mortal lands tended
to tamper with the Enchantment. As well, the mortals' use of magic
drained any Enchantment that seeped too close.) Gossamyr would have
to traverse the Netherdred, albeit, she now stood on the Otherside,
so there was no fear to encounter any from the nefarious tribe.
    However, if she had come to the Otherside, what then, prevented a
Netherdred from doing the same?
    Flicking a keen eye about, Gossamyr assessed her surroundings.
Alone. And keep it that way.
    The fetch buzzed overhead, its wings glinting copper against the
settling sunlight.
    "Not alone," she reminded. And was pleased for it.
    A skip to her left and she scampered onward. A smile was
unstoppable. Her high spirits lended a lightness to her steps.
Gossamyr splayed her arms out to her sides. A shimmy of her hips
nearly lifted her bare feet from the ground. She felt...less heavy.
    "So light," she marveled.
    Always in Faery she had fought her natural awkwardness. Cumbersome
in the air there, and often tripping over roots or rocks. Yet here?
The air barely skimmed her being. Performing a spin, Gossamyr let out
a squeal and set again to her pace.
    A tilt of head took in the vast horizon. Fascinating to view the
sunset from its parallel and not above.
    Fragile wings skimmed the scabbed cut on her cheek, and the
skitter of legs tapped at her nose and forehead. Faster than a
wing-beat, Gossamyr lashed out, capturing a damselfly by the wings.
She dangled the annoying insect before her face and tilted a defiant
smirk at the pivoting jade eyes.
    "Thought you possessed swiftness, eh? The air here is better
suited to me— Achoo!"
    Nearly toppled from her feet by that powerful sneeze, Gossamyr
stumbled and stabbed her staff into the red dirt.
    The damselfly escaped in a spiraling ascent through the crystal
sky, a sleek distraction for the fetch.
    A silly grin followed Gossamyr's explosion. While the air seemed
to fit her like a charm, it did not want her to get too comfortable.
    Of a sudden, a strange, mournful tune touched her ear. The small clink of saddle furnishings punctuated the song with
syncopated notes.
    Gossamyr spun to eye a horse and rider ambling down the path. Her
right hand stiffening and fingering the waxed cord of an arret, she homed in on the approaching target and crouched to strike.

    Paris — downnorth

    Aaee aaaa...mmm...0000....
    The melodious call beckoned him along the rough limestone garden
wall, arms stretched to flatten his body and meld with the twilight
shadows. Wings scraped against stone, but for the task he did not
mind the pain.
    Again came the sonorous call, a seductive beckoning. He closed his
eyes and rode the shiver that vibrated his very bones and bubbled his
blood. A strange and overwhelming desire always transpired at the
call. For a moment it blocked those just-beneath-the-surface longings
to flee, to mutiny.
    Down the alley the door to an inn opened to emit or eject. The
beat of drums, pounding to a rhythm of the Indian isles, escaped and
fixed a tempo inside his breast. It synchronized with his heartbeats
and played dull tympani to the succubus's call.
    His fingers curling around the corner of a darkened cobbler's
shop, he peeked to spy the nondescript black lacquered carriage
across the empty market square. Red curtains of heavy plush covered
the glassless windows; a thin, painted red line danced an arabesque
across the gut of the carriage. The equipage, plumed in even more
red, stood motionless, sleeping upon their feet. The coachman slept
as well; a forced rest, that.
    Aaee...aaaaa...mmm...
    He dived into the shudder that swelled in his