Roland’s face fell down toward his chest. A tear fell from Jessica’s eye as she managed to mumble out one word: “Over?”
“Not yet, dear girl. I am letting you two be for now. My monks needn’t know a thing yet, and I’d like to see if anyone gets back to you before I get to them. I hope you are aware that this means neither of you are allowed to leave Drummond, understood?” He waited for them both to nod before he continued. “So you keep up your charade, and I’ll keep up mine! When I do get to Billiam or your parents, I’ll kill you two quickly as well. A small thank-you, as I’ll hope you get to join them in heaven, no matter how little I believe in that place.”
Aldrious looked over to see Loretta approaching at last. “Our time is up, but one more thing, Jessica. I’d like to invite you to stay in my palace with me anytime you’d like. A man is not strength and honesty, as you seem to think. A man is power, and I have enough to indulge you for a lifetime. Surely, you know that your current knight will never love you. If she admired or respected you enough to fall for you, she would never let you leave her sight. Faelocks are quite easy to read on matters of the heart, which is not always pleasant. I don’t plan on admiring or respecting you one bit, but I have gallons of love for you.”
“To what do we owe such an honor, Your Eminence?” asked Loretta sternly, with a smile and a curtsy. As soon as she spoke, the bubble of quiet seemed to be broken, and Roland’s lips parted.
“Just wanted to see an old friend!” replied the cardinal as he got up and headed to the door. Strangely, he was quite terrified of Loretta, and not because of her manly frame. “I’ll see you two beauties, and you, Roland, another day.”
With that, the door shut behind him and normalcy fell over the tavern. Oddly, not a single one of the townspeople were speaking of the holy man who had just been in their midst. It felt as though the three of them were the only ones who didn’t immediately forget about him as soon as he left.
Jessica slumped forward and laid her face on the table, the strange grasp finally lifted off of her. “What in the bloody hell are we going to do?” she cried, before exhaustion took over. She fell into a nap, right there in the dining hall with Loretta petting the poor girl’s hair.
“Do you know him? He seemed quite startled,” Roland gasped out, filling his mouth greedily with gulps of air. “He said you look like his brother.”
Loretta smiled and held her head to the side in thought. “Hmm, no, I don’t think I have ever met that pervert before. But if he did say I look like his brother, that is quite an honor. Arrikos the XXI of the famous Dalgarie family is rumored to be just as lovely as Prince Micah and far less frail.”
Roland was terribly confused and studied her for a moment. “That makes it sound like you know quite a bit about him.” Curious, but not curious enough to press it any further, he got himself up and went straight to the bar. He knew that he needed two things immediately: a drink and a plan.
Chapter 7
May 6th, 989
THE FAERIE wood of Failingveil was the largest that humans had discovered and the only one in the continent of Centra, where Casperland and Alafor resided. Despite being the largest, it was scarcely the size of the royal palace.
The entrance had manifested from rocks and skimpy pines, yet the trees within it were thick and lush. They looked akin to birch trees, with their pale, slender limbs stretching up and intertwining to create a faux ceiling. Their leaves were an unearthly glowing aquamarine with fluorescent pink stems. The ground was the softest dirt their feet had ever touched; it felt like cushiony clay between Shemmy’s bare toes. The grains of it were every color you could think of, but when it was all lying together on the ground, it looked like commonplace brown earth.
The wood was dark, but everything seemed to glow from within. The pathway through the trees was barely two feet wide. Billiam had to prop Micah over his shoulder like a piggyback ride to avoid scratching the prince on any surrounding branches. They walked single file, feeling as though they were in a hallway, as opposed to any sort of woods. They could see no faeries, and all they could hear was a steady breeze, melodically rustling the walls of foliage. The smell of the forest consisted of wet moss, honeysuckle, and something metallic, maybe blood. That odor was thick and could be tasted as they drew their breaths.
After a few minutes of walking, they reached a clearing where the path opened up immensely. In this area, the trees were mixed. Some were the bright birches, but farther in there were other trees that were large and dense, like oaks. Their trunks shone a jet-black and looked smooth like glass. They were studded with tiny yellow leaves, making them look bare even when fully bloomed. A bevy of elms joined the mix as well, elegant trees with common brown trunks but full of purple blooms and orange leaves. Some pale grass grew on one side of the clearing, which showed them in what direction they could expect the spring.
Following the patches of minty blades, they were at the bubbling pool within minutes. The earth around it was damp, thus darker than it was in the rest of the wood. The moisture made it easier to see its true rainbow of colors. Zan looked around fervently to see if there were any natives present, but as far as he could tell, they were still alone.
“Okay, we’ll start with jump-startin’ the brain and the heart. We should have him layin’ in front of the pool to begin wif. Once I have those started, we’ll strip him and carry him into the pool with us, so I can revive him piece by piece,” Shemmy explained, looking a bit exhausted by having to do so. She knelt on the ground and tapped rapidly where she wanted him.
Billiam joined her on the ground and laid the prince between them. As he unbuttoned the prince’s shirt, he asked her, “Why is this part out of the pool?”
She groaned a bit, not feeling terribly capable of teaching this novice. She understood how vital this was to him, so she indulged his curiosity. “These two organs be the most important. We dun want the energy to overflow ’um or for it to be flowin’ to the wrong place. I have more control up here, well more precision, as to the exact amount of blessin’ I put into each stitch. The other reason bein’, we know right away whether it has worked. Before I begin enchantin’ every damn finger and toe, I’d like to know it’s worth the effort.”
Billiam’s face twisted into a frown, but he conceded she was right. He sensed her stress and decided he needn’t know anything else; rather he need only assist her in anyway possible. He looked over to Zan, to make sure he was ready to ward any faeries off. My brother had his back to them and his blade already drawn in one hand, his pistol out in the other. He was hunched slightly and highly alert. There was no reason to check on him further.
“The needles please,” Shemmy commanded, holding her hand straight out. She looked more serious than he had yet seen her; the wild accent dropped completely from her voice. He pulled the needles from his waistband and placed them in her dirty hands. She began rubbing them together and twisting them along her fingertips.
“I will do the brain first. His eyes will snap open, but no one will quite be home yet as no oxygen will be supplied. When you see his eyes open, begin mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. It is supposed to be most effective when the first breath comes from the person’s true love. I doubt that’s a fact your research dug up for you, but we are lucky enough to have you here, regardless. As you breathe into him, I will be waking the heart. When you feel him take your breath, you can part, and we will be in business.”
Billiam nodded, feeling as though his own heart and brain were about to burst. His anticipation was burning through his stomach as he sat in the moist earth next to Micah. He thought not even for a second about the mud caking all over his trousers, a first for our fastidious hero.
Shemmy crawled on her hands and knees over to the prince’s head at the edge of the pool. She dipped one needle into the transparent pinkish water and scooped some into her hand as well. She dripped the water along Micah’s face in a hexagonal shape before swinging the dry needle in the same pattern. Billiam looked on
horrified as it appeared Shemmy poked the wet needle right through the prince’s forehead, yet there was no real wound or actual puncturing. The needle glided through him like air and also through the earth, from which Shemmy retrieved it. She alternated dry and wet needles for about eight strange stitches through Micah’s face. She splashed water on his eyes, which shot wide open.
Billiam wished to stare into those sparkling sapphires, but he followed orders. He pressed his lips against Micah’s, which felt cold and stiff, nothing like what he had dreamed. The smell of death filled his nose, but he tried not to think of it as he poured his breath down the prince’s throat. Shemmy was sitting on Micah’s lap, stitching, and swinging her arms around wildly but with an intricate pattern. She splashed the lightly fizzing water onto Micah’s chest, wiping it across the length of his heart, before sending both needles within him. They floated through him and the ground, then back to Shemmy’s hands. She stood up before kneeling at the pool, throwing even more of the blessed liquid onto both their mouths.
Billiam was quite startled when Micah first breathed in. He was actually pulling away Billiam’s own air, and Billiam felt for a second as though he would suffocate. The feeling passed, and Micah blinked at him. Billiam pulled away only slightly, as the prince let out a small cough.
“Billiam…,” Micah whispered, “oh Billiam, I thought I’d die before I’d ever get to kiss you!” His voice was weak, and he coughed again, but a smile grew on his face.
“You did, my prince!” Billiam exclaimed without thinking. He planted another quick kiss on Micah’s lips and jumped up to help Shemmy remove his shoes and other clothing.
“What?” Terror filled the prince’s eyes as the strange woman pulled off his underpants, and he began trying to kick her away.
“Do not move, Micah. I have not revived all of you yet. You are stiff, and you could tear yourself. Let’s get him in the pool, Billiam,” Shemmy explained, but it offered the frightened prince no reassurance. He tried to swing his hand at her but felt little response from his body. He then screamed, as the result of his movement was his wrist snapping back the wrong way.
“I told you so,” chided Shemmy as she jumped in the sparkling water, which covered her up to her bosom. Billiam followed her, dragging the terrified prince in by his armpits. Shemmy put her hand on his face and looked into his eyes sweetly. “Please, let me help you. I promise this is only for your own good.”
“I know Billiam wouldn’t let you hurt me, so I won’t move anymore,” he said softly. He was extremely disoriented by all of this but reassured by the strong, familiar presence holding him from behind. “Was I really dead, my love?”
“Yes you were, Micah. You left me a year ago,” Billiam answered, gingerly lifting up his right arm as Shemmy swished in the water around it. Micah looked on in wonder as the needles disappeared into his arm and reappeared back into that woman’s hands.
Shemmy was diving down in the water to start on his feet when the shots began sounding. “They have finally found us,” Zan called behind himself. He must’ve been terribly bored. He was shooting them down with deadly accuracy before they got anywhere near, but Billiam could see their numbers were strong.
The faeries were incredibly quick and looked to be simply a foot long or smaller orbs of light. My brother could make out the limbs and snaring teeth, but from the view of the pool it seemed Zan was surrounded with little stars. Their wings made a light humming sound as they circled about his head, ducking in and out of the trees. As soon as one fell, two more came forward from the depths of the forest, yet they luckily seemed entirely distracted by my brother. He was doing his best to keep his energy level as high as possible, as faeries focus on such things.
“You keep them away from us, no matter what!” Shemmy shouted, diving back down to work on his knees. Billiam held Micah tighter, feeling as though that would somehow keep him safer.
Shemmy dove back up and sent the needles in through Micah’s stomach. She paused when she saw his eyes grow really wide and frightened. “Something’s poking me!” he gasped.
Billiam’s face fell and went pale. “That’s just me, Prince. I missed you quite a lot,” he admitted bashfully, backing up a bit so he was once again just holding him by the armpits. Shemmy giggled loudly and summoned the needles back out.
Micah’s face turned bright red as he laughed with her. “Oh, okay. Nothing too scary, I suppose.” His words were followed by a loud squeal, the situation growing ever more awkward by the second. Shemmy was now down at his groin, passing the needles throughout his hindquarters. It goes without saying those parts needed to be revived as well, but she probably should have warned him first.
Most of this process was the same as it was with that man she had resurrected ten months prior. She had used her fingers and lit incense sticks instead of the needles, and there was no faerie pool; despite those differences, the general principle of reconnecting energy within the tissues carried through. Shemmy was far more skilled at enchanting than even she herself knew and was able to instinctively adapt to her situation now, one with the right tools and a conscious patient. She still did not necessarily understand everything she was doing, but she was definitely doing it right. The prince’s body began to respond, enliven, and even smell better with every pass through.
As Shemmy popped up again for air, she looked over to see Zan had been pushed a few feet back. His arms and chest had received some good slashes, and bloodstains were dotting his white shirt all over. He had switched to his blade; the pistol lay discarded on the ground. Shemmy turned back toward her patient. She had only the fingers and back left before she had to complete the final step, the soulstitch. “Spin ’im please!” she shouted, finally feeling confident enough to allow her accent to peek back through.
Billiam spun him swiftly, switching which armpit either hand held. Facing Micah, he saw almost all life had returned to him at last. He couldn’t help the tears growing in his eyes, prompting a little frown from the prince. “I am just so happy to see you!” Billiam exclaimed, causing Micah to cry from joy as well.
They all heard a thundering crash as a branch from one of those oak-like trees fell on top of Zan’s head. He grabbed it and swung it angrily around him, knocking at least a dozen faeries to the ground. “How much longer?” He grunted loudly, wiping the blood from his brow.
“Juss the soulstitch! Back towards me!” Shemmy shouted to Billiam. He spun the prince fast, making him dizzy.
Shemmy stared deep in Micah’s eyes, making him a bit uncomfortable, not that any of this had been comfortable. With a needle in either hand, she stuck one at the base of his throat and the other above his belly button. They looked like they were going through him, but all he could feel was a warm buzz where she had sent them. He looked down, amazed as they zigged and zagged through his chest all on their own. Shemmy intently watched them, wiggling her fingers rhythmically. Micah could hear her muttering what sounded like counting.
She was mumbling the number twenty-four when Zan was flung by a group of faeries against her. He didn’t fall into the pool, but he did knock her to the side of the pond, breaking her concentration. Drops of his blood fell in the water, floating around Micah until they dispersed. Zan shot up immediately, releasing an invisible burst of energy that sent the group of faeries flying back away from the clearing. He drew his sword and destroyed as many as possible before they became mobile once again.
Shemmy had to collect herself quickly. She needed to stitch the length of the soul twenty-seven times before it could be fully grounded to his body. She had finished the twenty-fourth, though the last go of the stitch went a little wonky. She did not want to repeat it, for if she over grounded him she could be cutting years off his life. She quickly went through twenty-five to twenty-seven, and then dunked Micah’s head under the water. As she pulled him back up, she squealed, “Go, go, go!”
Billiam grabbed the still weakened prince and jumped out of the four and a half feet of water like it was n
othing.
“Just run!” screamed Zan as he released more energy toward the faeries, suspending all of them for those few moments. Billiam hurled himself and the prince through the narrow path of woods, his sword drawn. Faeries surrounded them, but none moved toward him.
Zan took a step back and pulled Shemmy out of the pool by her elbow. He shoved her under his arm like a sack of potatoes and chased after Billiam. The faeries’ movement restored as soon as their sprint started.
“Time fer reinforcements!” Zan heard Shemmy shout. He was holding her backwards, so when he looked down to the voice, he saw only her rump.
She was spinning her needles and chanting something. Within a few seconds, all the faeries he had killed rose. They were releasing magic from their tiny corpses, electrocuting the living ones.
Upon catching up to Billiam, my brother saw they were cornered right before the entrance by a duo of faeries. They were trying to carve up Billiam and had struck his cheek. Zan easily stabbed the tiny beasts into one of the birches behind them.
“Shall we?” he shouted, pushing Billiam and Micah out of the woods. They all scrambled downhill, and Zan put Shemmy down finally. She was still commanding her dead faeries, as they had angered the live ones enough to drag them out of their home.
Billiam kept running down the cliffside, clutching Micah against his chest. It was difficult for him to just run when he heard Shemmy and Zan fighting behind him, though he knew he needed to protect the prince at all costs. His feet were slipping around in the dirt, and he could hear Micah breathing fast with panic.
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