by C. C. York
I hate this fucking place. Everything I touch dies, Reed thought. He stood up from his knees and wiped his face with the edge of his borrowed shirt. They'll be looking for me soon.
He didn’t know how well the Magaran scouts could see through the tall valley grass, but the bright pink cloudless sky would at least be easy to spot them coming. He looped the bag he'd lifted from the Magarans over his chest, forced down the bread and fruit he'd found inside, and started running in the direction his body screamed for him to run away from.
The Batiwood was an orange-red line in the distance ahead; leaves like fire formed a blanket under which the sun's rays could barely penetrate. The trees' gnarled trunks were indiscernible from this distance, their dark bases a charcoal smudge on the horizon. Their fire orange leaves would never leach their color, and the trunks twisted and bent a little more each year. It looked enchanting, but their roots drank a wrongness that seeped through the forest floor and scattered from their branches.
He continuously scanned for signs of movement, a blonde head in a break of grass, southern-tinged curses at the heat. Monti had at least an hour's lead on him, but more if she got the Aygir. The Aygir may not have let her on its back, Reed reasoned, and Monti is too stubborn to convince it to obey. He flipped between anger at her for forcing him to hunt her down, fear of what could happen to her, and nausea at the thought of what he would have to do if she reached the woods. Why couldn’t she just trust me and leave this place? There is no guarantee her dad is even alive, and it’s far more likely she’ll get killed before she even reaches him.
The thought of his own dad curdled his stomach. Reed’s father had always been a faceless threat, someone to run from, someone trying to hurt him. He didn’t know how or why, but he felt in his bones that it was his father lurking in the Batiwood. There are too many coincidences. The Magarans claim their scouts went missing over the Batiwood, and then one of their Rifters goes missing right as we’re all dragged here from our world. He has to be behind this. If not, who else? Every step he took towards the Batiwood felt harder than the last. Reed felt his father's eyes on him like a bird perched on his shoulder. He assumed nothing would ever bring him back to this place, never imagined facing his father. The idea that he walked voluntarily to where he thought his father waited would have been unimaginable a few days ago. Before Monti.
I won’t fail someone else in my life.
The chanting and voices had stopped at least. Reed held his palm parallel to the ground and gingerly tested his Dua, pulling the dirt up like a magnet to iron filings. Testing, uncoiling the abilities he’d ignored his entire life.
His mother taught him how to hold his Dua in, to work through the nausea and aches that came from never using it. The slight drop of power he’d used to save Monti still rang through him. He felt stronger than he ever had before, like he stood taller and broader than even a few hours ago. His mother never said if his powers would be intuitive or not, but they felt as natural as breathing once he allowed it.
Reed had to slow hours later as stalks of gold-green grass swatted at his perspiring face. It was thick, impossible in a few places to traverse without a machete or scythe the closer he got to the Batiwood. He watched the ground for breaks where other creatures carved a path hunting each other. Where are you, Monti? He begrudgingly admired her no retreat attitude when it came to finding her father and hated the way she thundered forward with little information and no room for fear. Why couldn't she just wait? I would have come around. Reed kicked at a stubborn stalk. That's a lie. I would have convinced her Bakilar was the best option. We could still go there if I convince her that her father isn’t in the Batiwood, and there is no reason I can’t catch her before she gets in the woods.
His heart sped up as the sun began to set, a sinking feeling in tune with its steady descent. The valley was dangerous any time of day this far out from the Efendian guards, but it became a hotbed for creatures of the woods at night. The swaying grass looked like fire under the descending sun, and he spun again in each direction, looking for a sign of Monti. He couldn't see the gilded Tiers of the city from here; he was adrift at sea. Reed hugged the Magaran side of the valley the entire way here and prayed to the Goddesses for the first time in over a decade when the Batiwood stood just ahead. Please don’t let Monti reach the Batiwood.
Sharp cries rooted him to the ground. The Magaran mountains lobbed the cries back to the valley's center and to the trees, echoing over the valley. Something is coming. Thundering hooves ran towards him, a beast pushing its way through the thick stalks. Reed frantically scanned the grasses to see it as he held his hands out ahead of him.
He almost fell to his knees in relief when the Aygir, and not a Batiwood creature, pushed through the grass. The same squat female he stole from the Itreni barely slowed her pace as she circled him with spit spun to foam in her mouth and her eyes frantic. Reed didn't have time to do the appropriate dance of calming the beast. He just held firm onto her armored flank and pulled himself up, hoping she didn't attack him. The cries continued in the distance; shouts of alarm mixed with a high-pitched screech that belonged to no human. The Aygir took off in that direction, the wind battering Reed's face to the point where he could do little but hunker low and trust.
His eyes had yet to adjust to the onslaught of wind when he saw them. The matted black fur of a Garfu partially blocked out a sway of blond hair, and chills broke over his entire body. Monti, a man, and a little girl fought against the monstrous creature mere steps from the Batiwood. The Garfu slashed at them with its six-fingered claws, massive bone curved at the tips meant for digging. He couldn't see its head from this angle, but he imagined the fear gripping Monti as she stared straight on at the fleshy pink-red receptors that opened wide like a skinned starfish around circular rows of sharp teeth. The Aygir reared back, kicking at the creature twice the size of a bear. It spun to Reed, rage and spit bellowing through its outstretched receptors.
He tugged at the ground, trusting that his instincts would know how to use the power filling his bones. Piles of dirt, rocks, and roots crested high above the beast like a wave, blotting out the slim curve of the sun over the trees. He aimed.
And it did absolutely nothing. The beast shook off the dirt as if he'd just taken a bath.
It screamed, though, receptors flaring wide like fingered red hands, as a blade stuck in its side. The dagger the Magaran had given Monti remained lodged in the creature's flank despite Monti's tug. The man spun around her to hack at the Garfu's neck. Blood spewed from its wound, arcing over their heads, and landed next to the kid hunkered down behind them.
Reed frantically looked around while the Aygir reared up for another kick. He pictured all of the boulders perched at the base of the mountains behind him. Reed pulled, launching jagged boulders in an arc over his shoulder and into the Garfu. The creature did not move again.
Reed slumped off the Aygir, dizzy with exertion. Monti ignored him for the little girl, but the man with her came to Reed's side. He approached warily, eyes wide in disbelief. He didn't touch Reed but held his sword at the ready and stood between the women and him.
"Glad to see you grew a pair, Reed!" Monti happily said as she hugged the kid close to her. "And now I'm less pissed at that Aygir for running off in the middle of trouble. Seems she thought you'd be helpful here."
The man turned sharply to them and back to Reed, confusion and incredulity slapped across his face. Monti joked as if there wasn't a massive alien beast lying in a pool of blood to her side.
"Turns out having a bit of magic is pretty damn handy, huh? Think you can do that without throwing up in there?" She gestured to the woods with her demolished hair speckled with black fur and blood.
Reed smiled despite himself, "I'll try."
He turned to the young man still gaping at him, “I’m Reed. I see that you've already met that hellion named Monti."
The man released a breath he'd been holding, seemingly deciding somet
hing. "I'm grateful to you both. My name is Agnian. My friend, Elaine. We were on the way to Magara when we ran into the Garfu nest. This woman, Monti? She came running out screaming like a Hordesman, dagger overhead, and took a chunk of its hindquarter out when it attacked us." He gestured at Reed's hands. "Does that mean you are who I think you are?"
Reed opened to reply, Monti quick to answer for him. "Oh Curse-ed One? Man about Magic? The Edicisi? Yep, that'd be him." She smiled wide at him, mischief dancing above her brows and daring him to lie his way out of this one.
Reed chose to ignore Agnian's shocked face and sank down to the scrawny girl, also taken aback. "You OK?"
She clenched her shaking fists and looked him straight on. "Nope. Always wanted to see a Garfu, but not that close." She was slight of build, bird bones in the shape of a girl, with wide, brown eyes. She tilted her head at him. "You don’t look like the Edicisi from the stories.”
“I hope not. I don’t know what stories you heard, but if they’re anything like the ones I heard as a kid, I can assure you, I’m not like them. For one, I’d rather not wear skin-cloaks. And equally as important, I don’t eat people.”
“Can you talk to other people’s minds?”
Confused, Reed shook his head. “I don’t think so?”
That seemed to put the little girl’s mind at ease because she smiled. He stood back up as she said, “You don't sound like an Efendian or anyone else from around here. Where you from?"
Reed replied, "We're from a place very, very far from here. One that I doubt you've ever heard of. I've got some food if you're hungry?"
She crossed her arms, hip out, and said, "Texas? It's been a while since I went to school in South Carolina, but I'm pretty sure I remember a map and an accent."
Reed stumbled back, mind spinning at the implication. If a Rifter pulled the prison, how many others did she yank into this hell? He eyed her Efendian clothes as Agnian walked to her side, putting his hand on her shoulder.
He stood behind her, brows furrowed, and asked Reed, "Can you not tell one of your own?"
Reed shook his head, confusion warring with too many questions to answer properly.
Agnian looked between Reed and the girl. "She's a Rifter."
Elaine tensed. Reed caught Monti's eyes over her shoulder, eyebrow cocked. He glanced at the Batiwood fanned out behind Monti, the first row now visible. Reed expected to see disappointment and rage on Monti’s face when he answered, but his mouth betrayed him by saying, "We are heading into the woods. I could use your help."
Alik
Alik’s plan to slip in unnoticed and rescue Shauna fell apart within minutes of passing through the first row of Batiwood branches. Mara blocked Alik as a group of Canavar men, armed with swords and spiked mace stopped them. Each wore the same black cloak on their back, though the hoods did not cover their heads yet.
“Is that you, Handen?” A man asked Alik’s guide.
“Aye,” Handen replied, walking towards the men.
Alik palmed the manacles in her pocket, wondering if they would feel as wrong as the cloaks. “We take the girls from the underground path with these cuffs,” Handen explained earlier when he gave Alik and Mara a set of manacles carved from Batiwood branches. “It restrains their Dua until we can get back underground where the woods do the work for us. If we run into anyone else, either kill them or put these on and trust me. But know that your Dua will weaken under the Batiwood branches, even above ground.”
It took every minute of pleading and convincing for Mara to agree to play prisoner rather than fight, so they compromised. Mara could kill any group less than six, but anymore, they played prisoner. The sixth man forced Mara’s hand to slip inside her set of manacles.
Alik snapped her set of restraints behind her back, expecting to feel something. Nothing, she thought, though Mara sharply inhaled as her manacles clicked. Alik released her held breath when Handen declined the men’s help to walk them inside the prison.
The trees grew closer together the further they walked into the woods as if the trees herded them in one direction. The forest floor appeared to writhe like snakes, the roots twisting and turning over each other. Yet when Alik focused, the roots remained still. Head spinning, she forced herself to walk in a straight line, though Mara stumbled enough that Alik had to walk alongside her to keep her upright. Is this the woods or the manacles? Something darted behind the trees to Alik’s right, ceasing all questions in her mind. Handen stilled. She remembered his warning from the valley.
“No speaking once we’re in the Batiwood. The cloaks can hide us from the creatures, but not from the Dark One. I wouldn’t put this on unless there’s no other choice.”
Alik strained to see what Handen watched but saw only the still, fire-orange leaves on the branches. After a few moments in silence, he motioned them on, moving at a faster pace. Even her dimmed Dua flared on and off in alarm as if each step further brought a warning. Every part of her willed her to run, to get as far from the Batiwood as she could.
Alik’s nerve broke when they arrived at the arched doorway leading to the prison. Each panicked inhale sucked in the veil over her nose, and tears began to blur her vision. She didn’t trust herself to speak; instead, she just nodded at Handen to proceed when he paused at the door.
You are almost to Shauna. Get to her first. Deal with everything else afterward.
Crude hallways, carved from the crevices of the domed room they entered, led to darkness. An elaborate staircase hewn from gnarled roots connected the center of the room to a round opening in the ceiling. Firelight danced off enormous Batiwood trees that blotted out the moonlight far above them. And dominating the middle of the room was a cage of Batiwood branches and still forms.
Alik did not hear what Handen told the other guards as they removed her manacles. She could only search the group of girls in the cage when a guard pushed her inside as well. Tears streamed down her face at the sight of them, some as young as twelve, lying limply in the center. A few had enough strength to pull Alik and Mara to sit, but Alik brushed them off, frantically picking up each listless face, looking for laughing green eyes and a smattering of freckles across an angular nose.
She cried out as Shauna’s face tilted up towards hers, her eyes barely opened. “Alik?”
“Shauna!” Alik gripped the shade of the woman she once knew, thanking every Goddess for keeping her alive.
The color had leached from her skin, and her slim frame felt gaunt underneath Alik’s hold. She struggled to sit upright, and though she did not speak, she squeezed Alik’s hand. Alik tried to get to Shauna to say anything, but her best friend fell back asleep clutching her hand. Alik leaned back against the bars and shifted Shauna to sleep with her head in her lap. Mara slid down next to them, and as the guards walked laps around their cage, she took Alik’s other hand in her own.
Alik whispered to the pair, “Hold on a little longer. Help will be here soon.”
She dared not close her eyes under the flickering torchlight. Instead, she coached herself silently as she waited for the Dark One.
Breathe, Alik. You have Shauna. Now just stay alive.
***
After the first few hours in the cage, Alik’s relief and determination faded back into panic, the wait gnawing at her resolve and imagination running amok at what was to come as she gripped Shauna's hand in hers.
If anyone recognized Alik under her veil in the dim light, they either did not care or felt too sick to speak. Alik felt the draining effects of the Batiwood on her meager Dua as soon as she walked into the tunnel beneath their roots, but her Dua completely shut off within the cage bars. She tried again, holding her hand towards the torches beyond the cage. Nothing. Mara slowly shook her head at Alik's silent question; her Dua was still worthless here as well.
Alik worried a shredded cuticle as she glanced again at Shauna’s limp form. The air felt thick, and apart from a tossed bag of water, the guards did not speak or p
rovide anything else since their arrival. Across the cage, an older girl closer to 18 jerked her head once at Mara’s body slumped against Alik’s.
“It’s not just the amount of time down here,” she said. “The cages shut off everyone’s Dua, but it seems to hit the strongest Duawielders the most. You must be about as weak as me then, right?”
Alik huffed a laugh, nodding. I never thought I’d be grateful for my drop of Dua.
She scanned the guards again, sure that her ability to read auras would weaken. Yet ice white fear plumed above their heads. Firtina’s mocking tone broke through her racing mind. “What will you do now, my weak Pillar? Read me?”
She’s right, Alik thought. What good does that do? Why would the Goddesses want this Dua to survive in the Batiwood and not any of the others?
Alik recounted the forty-two girls captured and whispered to Mara, "Handen thought The Dark One sacrificed one girl a night. The others could be in another cage.”
Mara’s low voice responded, slow as if she struggled now to speak. "Or he's killing far more each night."
Chills crawled over Alik again. The waiting, not seeing her captor, was terrifying. She pushed out the frantic "what-if's" volleying in her mind. Word has reached Taavi and Mother. I just need a little more time.
Dirt fell from the ceiling's oculus, followed by quick footsteps, interrupting Alik's increasingly dark thoughts. The tip of a black robe appeared at the top of the stairs. Someone stepped down, their heeled boots tapping a frantic rhythm on the wooden steps in their haste. The black hood obscured the face and arms, but not the mutterings emerging from a man's voice within.
He sang, childlike, a mismatch of words as he curved around the stairs. Alik reared back when he reached the cage. That is the Edicisi?
The Dark One was a man in his middle age, tall and gaunt with matte gray eyes that roved over the girls. Oozing sores, wet with blood, covered his face, and bulbous red cysts hung limply across his neck and jawline. He gripped the wooden bars with hands scarred as if someone once peeled his skin off in neat lines. Cez, Alik thought. The peeling was her mother's favorite torture, so her mind volleyed a hundred theories at once.
