by Holly Hook
The yarn seemed to go on forever and the tunnel sloped down again. A stronger draft blew against my skin. I hoped we were close to where Macon was waiting for the bandits to emerge. I hated the thought of getting too far under the ground. Horrible things lived in Fable's underworld.
"Shhh," Mica said, and stopped.
I ran right into him and let out a grunt. I sounded so unladylike in front of him and I hated that.
But then I heard the voices.
"Gerald, I swear, if we almost fall in one more pit, I'm going to shoot you right now."
"Would you shut up?" The man followed with another insult.
"This place is a death trap. That girl did something. She sent us back in time."
The man said more that was lost in echoes, but then more words came out clear. "We didn't go back through time, Emily. Stop being such an idiot. That flash was something else. And what good is that book going to do us?"
She paused. "It might be worth something. And fine. We wound up in a parallel dimension."
The voices faded a bit. Ahead, the yarn made a left turn into another tunnel--in the direction the voices had come. This tunnel system was huge. The yarn vibrated as if urging us to hurry.
"No more pit traps," Mica said. Judging from the way the yarn jerked, he'd seized it in anger.
He might be angry that I'd almost gotten hurt.
No. He should be angry at me. I was the reason this had happened. I'd disrupted this quiet village and now I might be ending the lives of these two young men.
We followed and the voices stayed quiet, but then burst out loud again.
"Another pit!" The man shouted so loud it sounded like he was only feet ahead of us, just beyond another turn of the yarn.
"Hold on," Emily said. "I've got you. Drop the book and take my hand. Step towards me!"
Dirt scraped and something fell to the dirt ahead with a soft thud.
That was it.
The man cursed and panted for breath. She had pulled him away from the mouth of it. They were distracted. We had to move now.
But Mica was already running. His faint shadow ran past the yarn, blocking some of it from view, and the man cursed again. "Someone's coming!"
I ran after him.
I couldn't let Mica get hurt because of me.
A deafening boom sounded through the air and the tunnel lit with a second of light. Sparks flew and the stench of smoke filled the air. But Mica let out a war cry and the sound of metal scraping leather followed. Men grunted. Dirt scraped. The two men scuffled and another boom went off. Sparks flew.
"Mica!" Henry shouted. He pushed past me. "Let me go!"
Was this what guns sounded like?
Every instinct warned me against following the men into the tunnel. But I had to grab the book. Grab Mica. I followed Henry and ran past the end of the yarn just as it started to roll up. I reached out and felt around on the dirt and someone's hands hit me on the shoulders, pushing me down. My face hit dirt as someone stepped on my legs, trying to flee the fight. Pain surged through my knee and something popped. I coughed and spat out soil. Grainy gravel. Bodies hit the wall next to me and scuffled.
Something whizzed through the air and hit someone's flesh with a wet thunk.
An eerie silence fell and someone backed right into me.
The bandit man cursed again, just a few feet in front of us.
And screamed.
It was a horrible sound, full of more pain than I could imagine. Something metallic filled the air and invaded my lungs. The smell of blood.
The bandit was bleeding.
Mica had used his sword on the man.
"Push him over," Henry said behind me. "End his misery. Please."
Sickness welled up inside of me. I had been around swords all my life, but I'd never seen them used on someone. My brothers used to fight with wooden swords and they made each other bleed all the time, but this was different. This man might die.
Mica grunted and a blow rang out.
"Gerald!" Emily shouted from behind me. "No!" Another body pushed past me. The other bandit.
I reached out to stop her. Mica and the man scuffled again and another scream rang out as Gerald plummeted. The woman shoved me away and I flailed, but found the wall and steadied myself.
A faint and a sound like shattering glass thud ended the man's pain.
And then silence fell except for the woman's breathing.
The book.
The thought popped up like a desperate reminder. I had to find that.
I'd focus on that and not think about what happened. I dropped to the floor and brushed someone's leg as I felt around, and at last I rubbed my hand across something smooth and flat, with pages that I could ruffle.
Mary's book of stories.
Perhaps even my story.
The woman sobbed next to me and called Gerald's name over and over. It echoed out of the pit as if mocking her. I held onto the book tight, running my hand over the title, which was sunken into the cover and smoother than the rest of it.
"We need to leave," Henry said, quiet in my ear.
"Gerald!" Emily shouted.
I stood.
Emily fumbled with something and there was a click. Something about it was dangerous.
And her footsteps shuffled.
"I don't know who you are or how valuable that book is," she said, her voice filled with hate. "But I'll kill every last one of you."
And another boom rang out along with another flash of sparks.
Something zipped past my ear and found its mark in the wall behind us with a small explosion. Mica muttered something. Henry cursed. Whatever this woman had could kill better than any sword. Mica had the element of surprise before. He didn't now.
"Retreat!" Mica shouted.
I held the book tight and the glowing ball of purple floated next to me, keeping pace. It had stayed. I'd forgotten about it until now.
Show us a safe way out!
The yarn obeyed, casting a winding path.
Another boom rang out. Light flashed, revealing brown earth, and died.
Whatever she was doing could kill us.
And then we’d end up on the bottom of a pit.
We had to trust the yarn now. I ran as fast as I could in the lead, pumping my legs. The woman could follow us too. The yarn was just as visible to her. Mica and Henry ran behind me, panting. They’d take the blow first.
Another shot rang out and the woman cursed. She was just as vile as the man. But her curses got farther and farther away the more we ran. The yarn rolled up next to me as we went, leaving her no way to follow.
“Go go go,” Henry said. He was in the back.
Mica pushed me forward. I followed the purple string and it sloped upward. We ran around corner after corner. Light stabbed into my eyes at last. I ran uphill and stumbled. Henry bolted past me, but Mica paused and helped me up. I gave him a silent thank you as the two of us climbed the hill and towards daylight. Henry burst out into the open space as the yarn rolled up next to me again.
A horrible thunk followed.
Henry cried out in pain above us.
My heart withered and I remembered.
Macon.
He was waiting for the bandits to emerge.
“Henry!” Mica shouted. He let go of me. “Henry!”
I followed Mica up and out of the tunnel. Macon was running towards us, his face very pale and his mouth falling open. He dropped his bow as he knelt next to Henry, who lay on the ground and had an arrow sticking right through his upper leg. Henry seethed as blood blossomed on his leggings. I wanted to throw up. I'd seen plenty of arrows, too, but never in a person.
He might bleed out or get an infection.
I dropped the book in the grass and ran over, feeling useless.
“My leg,” Henry managed.
“It’s going to be all right,” Mica told him. “We’ll get it out.” Then he glared at Macon. “Why did you do that?”
Macon stee
led his features. “I thought he was one of the bandits.”
“You could have looked before you let loose,” Mica said. "And watch the exit. There's still one alive in there! We lost her but you can't leave it unguarded."
I eyed the tunnel. The bandit didn't emerge.
Macon stared him down. “You should not have come out through the tunnel where you knew I was waiting.”
Henry seethed again. I bristled. No. Just no. Macon was not going to make this our fault. But before I could slap him, Mica beat me to it. He grabbed Macon by the shirt with one hand and hit him across the nose with the other. Shoving Macon down to the grass, he towered over him. “If you're not going to be useful, get out of here,” he said, going for his sword.
Macon obeyed. He didn’t even grab his bow as he got up and stalked towards the village. Mica grabbed it and faced the exit again.
And then Mica faced me. “We need Rae,” he said, calmer than he should be. “I can’t pull the arrow out until we get her here. She has very long hair.”
I thought of the girl I had seen and I broke into a run back to the village.
It didn’t take long to find her. She was in the same house Henry had been standing in, at the table with a lit candle and reading a book. She looked up at me as I stood in her doorway. She did have long hair, so long her braid formed a pile on the floor.
I waved her out. Come on, I wanted to shout.
“Who are you?” she asked.
I waved again, more desperate. I pointed to my leg and grimaced, then pointed in the direction Henry was in.
“Is someone hurt?” she asked.
I had no idea why I was doing this. How was a girl with long hair going to help Henry? He might bleed out once Mica pulled the arrow out. That happened sometimes. I’d heard stories from my brothers, who had heard stories from the knights. I nodded and the girl got up from her chair. She had a dress on almost the color of grass, with white lace around her collar.
We ran back through the village, passing Macon, who rolled his eyes at me as if we had done all the wrong. I ignored him and led the girl—Rae—onto the hill that overlooked the tunnel’s exit.
And stopped.
The bandit woman stood there in her white shirt and jeans, holding the metal weapon. The gun. She pointed it at Mica and Henry, who didn’t see her.
Before I could shout a warning and doom my brothers to the lives of swans, she pulled something on the handle and a click followed.
And another.
The woman scowled and tried again and again, but nothing happened. The weapon wasn’t working for some reason. The woman threw it down, which landed next to the book we had rescued.
And then she grabbed the book, turned, and ran into the trees.
“Who’s that?” Rae asked. “She’s taking Mary’s book!”
The woman vanished into the trees. Mica looked up at us and waved us down. He hadn't noticed. “He’s losing blood!” Mica shouted. “I need you now!”
Next to him, Henry lay there, going pale.
“Henry!” Rae shouted.
I followed her as she knelt beside him. The blood was worse now. The entire front of Henry's trousers had turned crimson and dark and wet. Henry was very pale and he'd given up grasping his leg. Weakness had set in. His eyes fluttered up to the sky and back to us again.
I'd never seen anything this bad, even with six brothers who got hurt all the time. We had to get the arrow out.
I grasped onto the shaft and nodded to Mica.
"I can do this," Mica said. "You shouldn't have to."
I glared at him. The arrow had gone through Henry from the back. Macon had shot him from behind. We should break it before pulling it out. Taking the point back through his leg would do more damage than was already done.
"Hurry," Rae said, tears choking her words. "I can't do anything while it's still in his leg." She scooted closer and her hair fell against my shin. It was warm. Tingling, like the yarn. Light magic. This girl must be full of it.
I bent and bent and the arrow snapped, cutting into my palm a bit. I didn't know what Rae had planned, but it might have something to do with her hair. I motioned for Mica to roll Henry over. He obeyed, jaw falling open in shock that I was in charge here.
There was even more blood on the other side of his leg. The arrow's tail stuck out of it. It had punctured an artery. Blood leaked out around it, more with each heartbeat. We were losing Henry.
I pulled the arrow out with a disgusting wet sound.
And he screamed.
I waved Rae over, but she already moved. She took her long braid and wrapped it over his leg the best she could and lay over him. Mica pulled me back and I stood, heart pounding. Henry groaned in agony and I couldn't bear to watch. Blood, I could deal with. Injuries, I could deal with.
But not seeing someone suffer like this.
It was too much like seeing Isiah cry.
But as Rae lay over Henry, his cries of agony got to be less and less. His breathing became steadier and calmer. At last, she got up.
The blood was still there on his trousers, coating them from front to back, but the spot was no longer growing. The sparkle in Rae's hair was a little duller now and fatigue made shadows under her eyes, but her shoulders slumped with relief. She managed a smile. "He's healed."
I sighed in relief. I could still do that, at least.
Henry lay there for a minute as if trying to recover his energy, and then he stood. He legs trembled like he was a newborn calf.
"Where is the man who shot me?" he asked, turning to look and almost tripping. "I was coming out of the tunnel, and then there's an arrow going through my leg. Did the coward leave?"
"He did," Mica said. "If this were my kingdom, I would imprison him. Not so much for the accident, but for his shifting the blame over to us."
I looked around for Macon. He stood there at the edge of the village, watching. I hoped the guilt was eating him.
I had to go. The starwort was still growing in the field on the other side of the village. There was none over here. I turned and walked away from Henry, Mica and Rae. I picked up my yarn, which lay forgotten in a clump of weeds next to the tunnel. I'd dropped it along with the book when Henry got shot.
The book.
The bandit woman had it now. We'd rescued it and then I'd let it go, only to have it taken away again.
I turned back to Mica, but he was already putting his hand on the handle of his sword and facing the trees. He'd made the same realization. Macon had slowed us down, had let the woman get away with Mary's secrets and all of our stories. Mica faced Rae and Henry. "Go get some rest," he said. "I'll get the huntsman over there and we'll go find her. He owes us that." Mica turned and waved Macon closer.
The huntsman obeyed, dragging his feet. Mica tossed his bow down onto the grass and Macon claimed it again. He was very, very silent.
"You and I will go find the bandit woman," he ordered. "She has the book. We need to have it back."
Macon nodded. The two of them ran into the trees in the direction she had gone.
Rae slung her arm over Henry's shoulders and the two of them walked towards the village, leaning on each other for support. Everyone was leaving me. That was fine. I had my own work to do now. Mica was the best person to go out and find Mary's book. I had to help my brothers. That was my mission.
I ran back through the village, trying to leave the blood and the booming sound of the bandit's weapon and the wet pulling sound behind. I peeked into buildings until I found one with some grain sacks. I'd seen the servants at my father's castle hauling them all the time, but I'd never used one myself. I would now. I grabbed one off the floor and stepped over crushed wheat, heading back out into the field. I was thirsty and hungry and weak from the run through the tunnels, but I couldn't let that stop me. My brothers were all that mattered right now. I couldn't see if my story was in that book. Not right now, anyway. I might as well do everything I could.
The starwort grew in a big
ger patch than I remembered. I kneeled down and set to work, picking the flowers by the stems and stuffing them into the bag. The sun beat down on me and I got warm. My head pounded and my hands began to blister as a small pile of the starwort blossoms piled up inside the bag. This was going to take a very long time and I still had no idea how I would weave these into shirts. This would be almost impossible.
Hopelessness crushed down on me by time I had filled half the bag a couple of hours later. I sat back, studying my hands. They were red, covered in angry welts. Patches of skin rose on my fingers like tiny domes and I poked at one, which popped.
Blood came out.
I'd never had hands like this before.
"Why are you picking all these flowers?"
I jumped. Mica stood there, covered in leaf bits from running through the woods. He sheathed his sword and the orange gem glowed in the setting sun. I'd been out here for hours.
I went back to picking. I'd been slowed down enough.
I thought of Immanuel ready to throw himself in the raging river back home. Of his terror that we would lose Father, too.
What if, during his fifteen minutes free from his swan form, he decided he was that miserable again?
"Hey," Mica said, kneeling down next to me. "Why do you have to pick all these flowers?"
I shook my head and kept working. Fire spread through my palms with each new stem I severed. There were so many more of these flowers. So many more that I'd need.
"Are you under a curse?"
I shook my head again. And remembered the book.
Had he and Macon saved it?
If I could look at it and find a story like mine--and there could be one--I could show it to Mica. I could tell him what was happening and he and everyone else in this village would understand without breaking the rules.
"That was brave, what you did back there," he said. "I've never met a girl as brave as you. Most of them would faint at the sight of so much blood."
Heat rushed to my face. I liked the compliment, but I needed to get this done. I didn't have time for my own happiness.
