Dreams of the Fae: Transcendence

by Anna Patrick Paige

  What would happen to me when dawn came? During my capture, I had thought in rushed bursts about death, fearing I only had minutes to live. I had come to peace with a quick and merciless end. But that would not be my privilege. In this hateful prison, my execution would be labored, painful, and lonely. A Divine Princess would rot away, faceless, nameless, like the corpse melting in the gloom next to me.

  It was then.

  When everything seemed lost.

  And the outside world was a place of the past.

  That I heard the faintest clank of metal at the gate.

  I turned my head so fast the joints in my neck popped.

  A cloaked silhouette stood at the gate.

  I stopped breathing, my heartbeats racing in loud, ominous thumps that might break through my chest. Tears streamed down my petrified cheeks as I remembered the wicked criminal’s claim that he could take what he wanted.

  I huddled into a fetal position, hoping for a quick death. The faint metallic clicking continued, and I briefly lifted my eyes to see the figure picking the lock. He was tall and rugged, not unlike my captors. I buried my head farther in my arms to block out the stealth rattling.

  A stir from a sleeping criminal stopped the locksmith. He paused until the cave dweller resettled and drifted back to sleep. The silhouetted figure waited a second longer before slowly opening the gate.

  The iron hinges clanked. The noise seemed loud enough to wake everyone in the silent room.

  I peeked out from under my arms as the cloaked man took one half step into the jail and waved his arm, beckoning me out of the cell. I refused to follow his instruction. If he wanted to hurt me, he could come get me himself. I buried my head farther into my knees and kept my breathing shallow. I was short on air and my heart spasmed against my ribs. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could last on so little oxygen.

  Something hard hit the back of my head. I uncurled from my tight ball just in time to see a rock roll away from me. My skull started throbbing, but the total pain violating my stiff muscles overshadowed the lump growing under my hair.

  Again, the figure gestured for me to come out of the cell. Increasing the urgency, he waved twice more. I glanced at Abbey still peacefully sleeping. Mary no longer breathed. She lay in her sister’s lap, her chest frozen and her eyelids slightly cracked, revealing a sliver of the dry, fogged pupils associated with death.

  I turned back to the silhouette. What was the worst that could happen to me now? Mary was dead, and if I stayed here, I would be too.

  I crawled towards Abbey to wake her. A sharp, intense pain hit my stomach, and I stifled a groan. I felt as if I was out of my body, floating in a haze where nothing was quite real. I shook her shoulder. Instead of opening her eyes, she projectile vomited over her sister’s body, then slumped, still asleep, over Mary’s chest.

  I jerked away, the sour stench agitating the growing ache in my stomach, and I inattentively fell into the shadow figure’s reach. He grabbed the nape of my dress to yank me to my feet. I stumbled, weakly catching his forearm, and gripped a thick leather bracer housing a set of knives tucked into the binding.

  I craned my neck to see his face, but the hood of his cloak shaded his brow. He was taller than me by a head, lean, and round in the shoulders. He shook his arm loose of my hands and grabbed my bicep to pull me through the gate. The roughness of his hand penetrated the wool of my dress, and the force of his grasp was strong enough to bruise bone. My feet dragged across the ground, struggling to keep up with the rest of me. The old hag and these violent men were forbidding, but this dark new figure curdled my blood.

  At least I wasn’t bound and could scream, if I remembered how to work my lungs. Though something told me he wouldn’t need rope to restrain me.

  My head ached from dehydration, and another wave of nausea swept through my core. The taste of bile welled in the back of my throat—I swallowed it down.

  He held tight to my arm as we sneaked through the entrance tunnel, past the smoking embers of the dying torches. In the distance, starry twinkles illuminated the cave’s circular opening, giving the tunnel its only light.

  The rock changed to permafrost beneath my feet, and the woods, having seemed so gloomy before, welcomed me. I breathed deeply of the fresh mountain air until I felt lightheaded, pushing the smell of rotting flesh and vomit out of my lungs.

  As I anticipated, my new captor did not release me once outside the cave. He continued to drag me through the forest until the sparse starlight disappeared behind the tree canopy.

  The cat exploded from the brush like lightning, racing towards us in a spitting, hissing frenzy. Thrilled to see her, my heart fluttered with renewed excitement and the lingering hope of freedom.

  The strange hooded figure drew a sword from beneath his cloak, an alarmingly dangerous weapon I had missed. The metal sang upon being released from its sheath, and the shining blade scattered bits of light into the leaves.

  The cat pushed all four paws forwards, coming to a sliding halt, and dirt piled up in front of her. With a snap to her right, she put a stop to her attack and ran into the brush. Shimmering burgundy fur disappeared as rapidly as she had arrived.

  Sheer panic replaced my small fortune of relief. After fighting so fiercely against my previous captors, she abandoned me to just one man? Ran away at the sight of a sword?

  The stranger recommenced pulling me through the woods, now cutting the brush with his blade. We continued for a time I couldn’t measure. I didn’t realize how heavily I’d been leaning on him until the sudden disappearance of support sent me crashing to the ground. I landed on the frozen dirt, and my pain quickly turned to rage. I was not going through this again. I would not allow myself to be this pathetic and weak. “What do you want?” I demanded, slamming my fist into the ground. My lungs collapsed into a fit of dry coughs from the lack of moisture in my throat.

  The stranger returned his sword to the scabbard and knelt beside me. “Shut up. You’ll get us killed.”

  His voiced sounded familiar, like a comfort I should remember from childhood but had forgotten. Beautiful. My mind instantly cleared, and fear released its icy grip. Entranced, I waited intently for him to speak again. The features of his face were still indecipherable beneath the hood of his cloak, which kept his eyes and nose in constant shadow—as if he needed to hide his identity from more than just a lost prisoner.

  He removed a pouch from a gray haversack slung over his shoulder and thrust it into my hands. “Water,” he said, cautiously looking around the woods. “Drink quickly. We can’t stay here. This is a dangerous part of the forest.”

  I stared into the mouthpiece. It had to be poison, but my obsessive thirst overruled reluctance. I guzzled the entire receptacle. The cooling liquid eased my burning throat and washed away the bitterness that still lingered in my mouth. The water was fresh and sweet and gone too fast.

  As soon as I’d wiped my lips on my sleeve, the stranger grabbed my bicep and lifted me to my feet. I wobbled on sore ankles and ground my teeth, trying not to show the pain stiffening my body.

  “Let’s go.”

  “No!” I shouted. The shriek sent a flock of black birds squawking from their evening nests and out into the night. I ducked, tearing my arm from his grasp, and covered my head with my hands.

  Annoyance spread across the statuesque figure standing over me. He waited for the forest to return to silence, until only the occasional bird screech could be heard somewhere in the distance.

  He snatched my wrist, gripping so tightly my heartbeat throbbed in my palm. “Quiet!” he scolded through clenched teeth.

  “Where are you taking me?” I choked out, saliva gargling in my newly moist throat.

  “I’m not taking you anywhere.” His voice, once so beautiful, was now tainted by irritation bordering on rage. “The road is just ahead. Take the left to Alamantia and the right to Daraban City. Stay off the path in the daylight or someone else will capture you.”

  “I’m not going to
Alamantia!” I violently shook my arm, trying to free myself from his grip.

  He released me. “Fine, stay here then. I’m sure the wolves are hungry. I have no time for idiots who would rather die than help themselves.” He backed away, tossing the empty water pouch at me. It hit the front of my dress and fell on my toes.

  He turned and sank deeply into the woods.

  Everything went dark.

  Every tree and shrub had a face watching me. Alone. No horse. No cat. No stranger. Free from the hands of evil men, but at what cost?

  My stomach churned. I had been rescued by a mysterious man who seemed formidable but showed meager kindness. Had he really meant to simply free me and send me on the path towards the nearest city?

  The wind blew, and the forest howled. The trees creaked, and a black bird chirped above me. My brain played tricks with my senses. Even the faintest branch cracking became an enemy lurking out of view.

  Ahead, the road pierced through the woods like a reflective gray river leading back to Alamantia, but going home wasn’t the option I wanted to pursue. Even if it meant bringing more danger to myself. Even if it meant facing death all over again. I would take the peril over returning to those stone palace walls.

  I could still see the back of the stranger’s wool cloak as he faded through the thick greenery. If I hurried and ignored my ongoing nausea, I could catch up and follow him wherever he may be heading.

  I quickened my pace. I couldn’t lose him. My feet became tangled in the roots of overgrown shrubs, as if the woods had come alive and grew thicker to keep me away from him. I yanked my feet free, but he moved faster, trying to escape.

  “Please!” I let out a desperate cry when I couldn’t break through the dense branches. “Don’t leave me here.” I struggled to control my voice. I didn’t want to disturb the night any further or give him more reason to abandon me. “I’m lost. I’m frightened.” Admitting my fear was as difficult as feeling it.

  The branches gave way. I broke free and closed the distance between us—panting and groaning with each painful step—until he was walking mere feet in front of me. Roots and stones repeatedly tripped me. Limbs bent and came back to smack me vengefully in the face. Cobwebs, spiders, and other small creatures lurking in the night crawled up my body. I swatted at them and shook my hair, trying to fling the critters off my dress.

  The stranger never stopped. He never turned to see if I was hurt or still relentlessly pursuing him.

  The trek turned ever more perilous as the ground began to slope upwards. My muscles screamed, and the rocks and thorny vines split my once delicate hands. The minor relief I’d received from the water had long since disappeared, and heavy open-mouthed breaths rekindled the burn in my throat.

  There was no rest. There was no end. Each dragging step up the mountain was more difficult than the last. Each strain pushed my body further to exhaustion.

  I was questioning how much farther I could go without collapsing when the sun appeared over the treetops, revealing the exquisite mountain countryside. The snow-capped peaks stretched far into the distance and shimmered in the morning light. As we steadily gained altitude, the forest thinned, transitioning to a maze of jagged boulders and sparse vegetation.

  I had never known Brisleia was so beautiful. Distracted, I lost my balance. My feet went out from under me, and I stumbled forwards, sending loose pebbles trickling down the steep slope. Echoes of clings and clanks rang through the mountains.

  The stranger turned and grabbed my wrist, catching me before I hit the ground. I stared into the flexing muscle of his arm, then up to his face, hoping to finally glimpse my rescuer, but his hood continued to obscure his features.

  “Thank you,” I breathed. He said nothing in response but waited until I’d regained my footing before dropping my wrist and starting off again.

  Finally, the ground leveled. High in the mountains, a light layer of clouds floated around us. The air thinned, and the frozen dirt grew a thick layer of emerald grass partially hidden beneath sporadic patches of snow. A tiny glen on the edge of a precipice overlooked the massive evergreen forests, and a large willow tree at its center glittered with a dusting of frost .

  All at once I felt homesick. I adored my own weeping willow in my private garden.

  The stranger walked to the willow trunk and set his haversack among the roots. Sweeping his hand over his head, he pushed the hood of his cloak away from his face, revealing golden-blond hair growing in a series of haphazard directions—uneven and chaotic. His piercing eyes were a brilliant shade of steel blue set among a slightly square jawline and rough, tanned skin. Built broad in the shoulders, he tapered into a triangular torso full of lean hardened muscle. I was shocked to discover he wasn’t much older than me, easily under twenty.

  When his engaging eyes landed directly on mine, his expression morphed into something like disbelief. His peach-colored lips parted, and his hands formed two clenched fists, as if what he saw disturbed him beyond measure.

  After a moment, the stranger lowered his gaze and shook his head, grinning devilishly at some secret personal amusement. My cheeks flushed at his innately charming smile.

  He wore a sleeveless white shirt made of light, fraying cotton and leather bracers bound to his forearms that holstered a variety of knives. Around his left arm, a tightly wrapped linen bandage was secured under his elbow. His slack leather boots each housed a hunting blade tucked into the side, and his brown leather pants hung dangerously low on his hips. Attached to the rim of his trousers was a black leather belt holding the scabbard containing the magnificent sword I’d seen during the night, and his long wool cloak swayed over the glistening onyx hilt.

  It might have been the altitude, or simply exhaustion, but I started to feel dizzy. My stomach did a flip not associated with nausea, and I couldn’t explain the giant knot growing in my chest as I looked at him. The man standing before me was incredibly handsome, with a rugged authority unlike anything I had ever seen. I wasn’t breathing. And I hadn’t noticed I’d stopped until my chest screamed for air.

  “Why are you following me?” he asked, breaking whatever enchantment momentarily rendered me immobile.

  I sucked in a breath to replenish my frozen lungs. “You saved my life,” I exhaled.

  “And that constitutes a reason to follow me?” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the willow trunk.

  “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

  The stranger raised an eyebrow, losing his smile. “You still don’t.” He waved his hand dismissively.

  “Please, take me with you. At least to a village,” I begged.

  “I showed you the main road to the cities.” He pulled a hunting knife from his boot.

  Instinctively, I took a step back. “You don’t understand, I can’t go near any major city.”

  “Oh, I understand perfectly. But I’m not going to have you around.” He pointed the blade at me. “You’re trouble.”

  “I’m not trouble, really. I’ll be quiet. You can ignore that I’m with you.” I tried to sound convincing.

  The stranger scoffed. “Hardly.” He dug the tip of his blade into the willow trunk and filleted the bark, cutting away a large square of the inner white flesh, and stuffed the chunk into his haversack.

  I started to feel foolish. I should have taken the road as he directed instead of mindlessly following some mysterious nomad who clearly didn’t appreciate my company.

  I walked to the opposite side of the willow and slid down the trunk, landing on the soft grass. The stranger glared at me using only his eyes. His gaze lingered for a moment, then he took a deep breath, muttering something unintelligible, and lightly punched his fist against the bark. I swallowed hard.

  Movement in the bushes demanded my attention—burgundy fur. I squeaked with glee and slapped my hand over my mouth. The cat looked long overdue for a decent rest. She blinked wearily several times, and my heart warmed, making my rescuer’s foul attitude a little more
bearable.

  I squinted at her, trying to form a connection that might allow me to hear her thoughts, but received only silence.

  The stranger tucked his knife back into his boot and took a seat on the other side of the tree. He leaned into the bark and closed his eyes.

  “Where are we?” I asked, listening to the morning birds chirping in the branches above us.

  “Western Daraban,” he answered dryly.

  My eyes widened. Daraban? How had I managed to travel this far in such a short time?

  “It’s disturbing that you have no idea where you are . . . considering . . .” He rested a wrist on his bent knee.

  Considering? Considering what? That I was the Divine Princess Ayleth Rose of Alamantia and shouldn’t be in the forest alone? Or something else entirely? Something I was beginning to realize was more hazardous than being a wandering Divine. “Are you from Daraban City? Or a village? Are we going there?”

  The stranger turned to me and furrowed his brows at the bombardment of questions. “We?” He chuckled at the word. “We aren’t going anywhere, and where I am heading is not your concern. I’m not getting involved.”

  “Involved?” I twisted around to face him. “Involved with what?”

  “You.” He waved his hand to gesture to me in general. “This.”

  I frowned. “Excuse me, sir, but didn’t you involve yourself in this when you opened that prison gate and jerked me out like some sort of kidnapping?”

  “Sure, except most people disappear into the woods to be eaten afterwards,” he explained, perturbed.

  “Well, if you’re not some sort of kidnapper or criminal, then for what reason would you rescue people from the likes of that place only to leave them stranded in the woods?”

  “Who said I wasn’t a criminal? And I didn’t leave you stranded. I led you to the road. That’s as far as I’m willing to go. The rest is up to them.” He returned to his side of the trunk.

  “Them? So, you’ve made a habit of this?”