The carriage was thankfully there, just as it was supposed to be. Billiam was hoping the appearance of the cardinal was the only surprise they were to have for the day, and so far it was. The shabby-looking cart was basically just a wooden slat pallet on four crude wheels, with a small fence all around it for keeping the items inside. There was a pile of dusty quilts and a half-dozen bags of flour, which were there to serve as the perceived cargo. He spied the sort of pathetic but suitable pair of horses beside it. They had been tied to a tree by one of our allies and were mindlessly chomping on foliage as they awaited the band of heroes. Only one horse was needed to pull Micah in the cart, so the other was to carry the lady of the troupe.
Billiam sought to get them focused, calling in a stern but cheerful voice, “All right, team, the walk to Failingveil will be less than three days. We will start out immediately and rest tonight and tomorrow night when the sun sets. We should reach the wood by noon of the third day. The entrance can move, but Zan will be able to track it. Shemmy, how do you think the prince’s body will hold up for three days, thawed?”
“Um, well the reanimation ritual should take care o’ most the damage, but there’s no way to tell how much decay it can undo and how much it cannae.” She scratched her head, looking over the cart.
“Should we soak the quilts so you can keep them frozen over him?”
“No, no, I ain’t wanting to waterlog the boy, nor frostbite ’im. I’m finking… we should have him on the bottom, wrapped in a dry quilt, and spill the flour around him, as a barrier wif a frozen blanket or two on top. That should keep the moisture away, I fink. Not gonna be all too convincing there be nothing hidden in the cart that way, though…. Stick out like a quilt-covered sore thumb, we will.”
“Hmm…. Well, we’re an extremely rare breed just being outside the gates. That and us being a faelock, a halflock, and a banished witch, I don’t see how any amount of caution could make us anything but suspicious. We should put the prince’s health and freshness first,” decided Billiam, already unpacking the cart with Zan rushing to assist.
“I dinnae know you was a halflock, Billiam. No wonder you make me look like such a shrimp.”
“You are a shrimp anyways, Shemmy.” Zan stuck his tongue out at her as he said it, a behavior he adopted from the twins. He was off toward the stream nearby with two quilts to soak before she could raspberry back. Billiam was busy swaddling Micah, so she helped herself to one of the carrots intended for the horses.
“Yes, my mother was a faelock and a knight in the Order. She was killed in battle when I was two,” Billiam explained while hoisting the bundled prince into the far corner of the cart.
“Sorry to hear it. I thought your kind, or well your faelock half, s’all dying out because so many of you be queers. I am meeting quite a few o’ yous, I reckon. I ’spose yer all pretty fruity, though,” she teased while she finished her carrot, top and all, a sight that turned his stomach.
“That is a common and offensive stereotype, Shemmy,” Zan lectured upon his return, tossing the soaked quilts on top of her head. Shemmy was not present when I taught the lesson of mating practices among faelocks to Katrina, so forgive the redundancy. “We are not all ‘queers,’ as you say. In fact, that is hardly the rule and despite what Billiam thinks, is not true for myself.” Billiam hid his snickering while covering Micah with a ripped bag of flour, as my brother continued. “We are simply far more driven by feelings of loyalty and respect which grow into lust, instead of the immediacy of desire that occurs in humans. Since our attraction is not dependent on the wish to procreate like other animals, we are not a growing population. In fact, it’s sort of our duty, or responsibility at least, to try to breed so our species does not die out completely, like the ogres,” he explained and self-consciously looked over at Billiam for approval. He didn’t get any, or any shred of attention from him whatsoever.
“Right, thanks for learning me dat.” Shemmy stood up from the pile of dirt she’d been resting on and chucked one of the quilts back at Zan, causing some backsplash on his spectacles. “I need ya to hold that out, lengthwise, so I can enchant it. A frozen balled-up quilt shaped like ma face will’nae do us much good.”
Zan wiped his glasses on his shirt, while holding the blanket out awkwardly with one hand, as if it were a soiled hanky. She glared at him, so he showed his fake grin and straightened up, holding it like he knew she really wanted.
She drew her hex, freezing the quilt almost completely, so it was stiff but still slightly pliable. She made sure to freeze the water droplets on his fingers as well, causing a biting pain and a small yelp.
“Oi, clumsy me!” she called to him, snickering as he shook the cold off his hand and walked the quilt to Billiam. Once again catching the wet quilt with his face, Shemmy and my brother repeated this exchange almost exactly with the second one.
After getting Micah’s travel situation ready, Billiam and Zan moved onto preparing the horses. They piled the remaining quilts and the other flour bags around Micah in the least conspicuous way possible, but it did look like a very strange cart to trek through the woods. Billiam was about to announce their departure, when like a shot, Shemmy dashed into the forest.
“Shemmy, where are you going?” Billiam called after her.
“I hafta make a wee, and I dun want either of you fellas peeking!” she shouted, disappearing from their sight.
“You don’t have to run too far! Neither of us are going to have any interest in seeing—”
Before he could finish, Zan let out an irritated scoff.
Unable to control his laughter, Billiam shouted, “Never mind, Shemmy, Zan very much wants to see. Keep running!”
A full eight minutes passed before Shemmy returned. “I don’t think that was for a wee,” Billiam teased when she returned, but he had been genuinely worried and was planning her rescue.
“Aye, dun go sticking yer nose in my business. It’s quite a walk back thatta ways anyhow, and we should get going already!”
Zan sensed Billiam’s irritation and knew that he was about to start up bickering with her, so he intervened. He grabbed Billiam’s shoulders and spun him around toward the cart, as easily as if he were a top. Billiam tried to slap his hands off, but Zan had already stepped toward Shemmy. He grabbed her by the collar with one hand and set her atop the cartless horse. “Let’s go, children.”
With that, they commenced through the woods of central Casperland. They made little to no stops, aside from water for the horses and a handful of “wee breaks” as Shemmy referred to them. Thankfully none of these were as long as her first, and they made over a third of the distance by the time night fell.
As the sun became serious about setting, Zan and Billiam were deciding on the best place for their rest. My brother pointed out a clearing to their right and started over to it when Billiam, without thinking, held his hand out against his chest to stop him. His heart beat rapidly, but he obeyed the shushing motion Billiam gave him.
“What are you two feeling on each other for? Not that I mind but—”
“Shh! Shut it, Shemmy. Something is following us!” Billiam hissed out in the loudest whisper she had ever heard.
“Oi, you finally noticed den?”
“Shemmy, what did you do?” asked Zan, grabbing Billiam’s hand off his chest and releasing it gently. Billiam’s skin crawled, but he quickly regained his composure. It was his carelessness that caused that physical interaction anyhow.
“Oh, it’s just Gam. I wanted some other clothes and such, so I packed him up real quick before we left. See! He’s a sneaky bastard, won’t hurt none of yer plans. C’mon ova now, Gam. Ya dun need to walk so far behind anymore,” she called, writing a hex over her shoulder.
Within seconds the hulking carriage came over to them and sat itself down in the clearing. Billiam shuddered at the sight; he was still scarred from his abduction/rescue. Zan went right over to it, stroking its muscular, hairy man-legs in wonderment. This sight truly disturbed Billia
m, so he got down to the business of bringing the cart over and out of sight from the path. He unhitched the horse as loudly as possible to drown out the others’ conversation of reanimated corpse contraptions.
“Zan, stop that and get branches for the fire,” he shouted coldly, sounding like his exhausted mother. Continuing his lecture, “Shemmy, you are in trouble, but I won’t punish you until we are back in Drummond. There is a bucket in the saddlebag of the horse you rode on. Go and fetch some water please. There should be a stream to our left, I think. I am going to check the prince for moisture.”
“Sure, that’s what ye be checkin’ for. We was there in the balloon, you know,” Shemmy taunted and breezily avoided the rock Billiam chucked at her. She did a clumsy curtsy, called out “Aye-aye, cap’n,” and ran off before he had a chance to reload.
They slept fairly well through the night, considering they had only two quilts not wrapped over Micah, no pillows, and it was brisk out. Billiam slept under the cart, feeling it was the closest place for protecting the prince. Shemmy wrapped herself in a quilt and slept inside Gam, with her dirty feet sticking out. My brother leaned against a tree, watching quietly. Whether he slept or not, no one could be sure.
The next leg was much the same and too mundane really for me to hash out in detail. They walked. There were woods. Shemmy pissed a lot. Zan chattered about inanely; Billiam ignored him. Shemmy enchanted a dead rabbit to dance in front of her as they walked until its legs broke, a sight which resulted in Billiam immediately vomiting.
THEY MADE a camp at nightfall, with only a measly two-hour journey left until they reached the faerie woods. It pained Billiam to have to stop when the destination was so close, but there was naught they could do in pitch-black. They had a meager meal of squirrel and more of the horses’ carrots, and then they slept much as they did the night before. Billiam tossed and turned more this night, causing him to be most of Zan’s focus as he performed his watch.
Billiam rose the same time the sun did. He was so excited, he perked up immediately, forgetting he was lying under a cart. Crawling out, he rubbed the bump on his head but was undeterred and ready to get their journey restarted.
Zan had fallen asleep and slumped into a squatting position. He was facing the cart, but his long neck was totally bent over, his blue hair almost brushing the ground. Billiam walked over to him and grabbed his shoulders, straightening him up against the trunk. Zan opened one eye and smiled at him, the first sincere grin Billiam had seen him make in years.
“Good morning, love,” mumbled Zan sleepily, before falling back into his dream.
Disturbed by the affectionate words, Billiam turned away and decided he best wake his other companion instead. He grabbed a fallen tree limb as he walked over to Shemmy in her pram. He scratched the branches noisily against the top of the carriage, causing her to squeal and fall out, scared half to death.
“You arse!” she yelled up at him while lying on the ground.
“C’mon, get up, get up!” he pleaded, bouncing around like an excited child during a festival. “Today you bring him back! Today I get my prince back! We must be off as soon as we can! I am unable to wait any longer!” His eyes were glittering as he pulled Shemmy off the ground, grabbing her close and surprising her with an embrace. “Oh I’m so excited! Thank you in advance, my angel,” he whispered. He gave her a kiss on the side of her head before setting her down.
Shemmy blushed and smiled. “Oh fine, I’ll get up. Yer acting far too adorable at the moment to be mad at ya.”
He grinned and started grabbing the things that had fallen out with her, shoving them back into Gam’s belly. “Will you be a darling and go wake up Zan? He was being sort of sweet, and it disgusted me.”
“Oi, well, I dun s’pose he’d be sweet to me, so I’ll be awlright.” She was a bit confused but obediently walked toward my brother, who was sitting straight up yet snoring loud like thunder. She reached her arm out and thonked down her fist forcefully on the top of his skull. She heard his jaw clap together, and he shook his head before looking up at her with shock and rage.
“Wakey, wakey, sleepy bones! Today be the prince’s new birfday!” she sang, offering her hand to help him up. He swatted it away and instead strained pathetically to get his long, stiff body off the dirt.
“Right, I suppose Billiam has been patient enough the last few years that I can forgive the lack of sleep and rude awakening.” He smiled over at Billiam, and it was mostly genuine, but a sharp pain stabbed into his heart. It was no surprise really that Billiam refused to acknowledge his sentiment.
The final leg of their journey to Failingveil was approaching the northern border of Casperland. Here the woods were thick, and the sky was filtered through pine needles, making it always seem later than it was. Contrary to Casperland’s midland, where Drummond lives, this northern edge was consistently overcast. Gray clouds filled the sky, and although the air still hung around thick, it was dry and cold.
After an hour’s walk, they reached the base of Mt. Kimper. It was a third of the way up this tree-studded rock face that the elusive Failingveil lay. As the rest of their journey would be an incline, they were forced to park the cart and to put Gam to sleep. A small wooded glen, ten paces or so away, provided a safe place to leave the vehicles. Billiam eagerly unpacked Micah from the cart; the flour seemed to be a bit gummy, but the quilt and the prince were bone-dry and freezing cold. He could smell some death on him as he pulled him near, but he knew that it would soon leave.
The trio began climbing the mountain, and their ascent was swift. Shemmy giggled as she jumped up on rocks, slipping in the dirt and tearing onto branches. It wasn’t long before Billiam was struggling to get up the cliff while holding Micah’s corpse tight against his body. If he were alive, carrying his small frame would be no problem for Billiam, but the lifeless boy could not grab him back.
They had less than a half mile left to go, albeit entirely uphill, when Billiam stopped. He sat on the dirt and laid Micah along his lap. Catching his breath, he touched Micah’s hair, hoping the feel of it would return his energy.
Zan knelt down, placing his hand on top of Billiam’s, which was still on Micah’s head. “Let me carry him from here, yes?”
“I need you to be able to fight, if any faeries are about. I can’t have you weighed down by him.”
“You know he will not slow me as he does you. Please, let me help you,” he said while lovingly stroking his hand across Billiam’s face.
“Don’t touch me!” Billiam screamed, slapping Zan’s hand away. “I will rest here. You go off and find the door. Don’t come back until it’s open, and we will go through together.”
Zan jumped back, utterly crushed. He did not fight him but simply obeyed, walking away from the two of them and up the cliff.
Shemmy was shocked by the outburst and walked over to Billiam. “What’s going on, then, Dandy? Is ya cryin’? Zan was really bein’ kind to ya just now. I dunno why yer actin’ so upset.”
“You have no idea what that man is being, so butt out, Shemmy,” he muttered but would not look at her.
“Aye, I suppose I don’t. Tell me.”
“About what’s going on? What is going on… perhaps he is disgusting me with his kindness. I know what he is, and I know what we were, so I can’t stand how he acts like everything is fine and he is just helping me out. He should never presume to touch me like that, even if it is simply genial. I doubt he is capable of geniality with me, anyhow.” Billiam’s face hardened, and his eyes watered while he gave his vague explanation.
“Oi, Billiam, now ain’t the time for this. Let’s cheer up and get your prince back, awlright?”
“This is the only time I have left to feel my hatred, before Micah will be here. I will not allow him to see the evil and pain which that man is!” he shouted and pointed angrily to where they had seen Zan disappear.
“’Ey, juss relax, hmm? We can make him tell e’eryone how much he fancies ya as soon as we get back. No nee
d ta spout about hate and evil. We still gotta work togetha.” She desperately wanted him to feel better. All she could glean so far was that Billiam was being quite dramatic, not something she expected from him.
“Shemmy, he is a liar. He always lies. I do not care what he tells others, because chances are he will be lying.” He seemed calmer, but tears were pouring down his cheeks. “I just cannot abide having been put through what he did to me because of his ‘love,’ while he doesn’t even have the balls to acknowledge any of it!”
“Well, what is it, then? Let it out, ya need to obviously. No sense in you clamming up and bein’ a liar too.”
He had not had a friend to talk with in a long time. He and I spoke little about our emotions, as I could sense them anyways. I probably respected his privacy more than I should have. He was tired of holding in this poisonous rage and considered laying it out for Shemmy. “You want me to talk about it? Will that really help?”
“It helps to hack up the food yer chokin’ on, does it not? Same wif feelings, mate. Just spew ’um out while we got some privacy,” she said sweetly as she kneeled in front of him, holding his hands over Micah’s body.
Billiam ran his fingers through his own head of dark curly hair and pondered for a moment. His crying had ceased, and it seemed he was gaining some calm as he arranged the words in his head. “Okay… well the beginning wasn’t so terrible. It was manipulative, but still mutually beneficial. After being banished from the castle, I was just a frustrated and confused teen. I confided in Zan about my sexuality and love for Micah. He concocted the brilliant idea that I ought to ‘practice’ for when I had Micah back, offering up himself as the test subject, of course. I realized it wasn’t really practice; it was just fucking. It was not for Micah; it was for me and it was for Zan. Neither of us wanted to admit what we were doing, but he took it further and would berate me in front of others, completely pushing me away. My love was away from me physically, and the man I had physically would give me no comfort. He used me. Yes I got something from it, I will not deny that, but he took advantage.”
Defiant Revival Page 8
