by J. S. Malcom
And it really starts to sink in that this is it. I'm going to die. No surprise rebel platoon is going to suddenly swoop in and save us. My magic isn't going to kick in and allow me to open a rift for us to run through. And all I can think about is just how pissed off Autumn is going to be at me. I stop struggling. Screw it. I might as well try to maintain some self-respect.
We're led back down the torch-lit path and into the cul-de-sac, where the solemn faces of gathered centaurs stare back at us. They don't look the least bit happy about killing us. If anything, they seem almost sad. But I guess they figure they can't mess around when it comes to dealing with those who wrecked their world. In a moment of completely unexpected empathy, I find myself almost feeling bad for them. That moment passes quickly when I see four nooses hanging from the trees. I so totally don't want to go out that way. I wonder if we might work out a deal. Maybe I flick flies off their hides in exchange for a quick and painless death. I don't know. Something.
Rontauk is the last one to come down the path, emerging from the darkness and into the flickering torchlight. He takes his place again on the other side of the fire, facing us and those surrounding us. “We will begin the ceremony of ghosts,” he says, his baritone voice ringing out as he spreads his arms to the night.
Rontauk closes his eyes and begins softly reciting a string of words. He speaks in the centaur language, maintaining a steady murmur. I have no idea if it might be an incantation or a prayer. The drumbeat continues, and I realize that this time it’s meant to summon the dead.
My eyes widen as suddenly a blast of sparks rises from the fire, spiraling into the night. The fire surges upward as smoke plumes swirl, and then settles back down. I'm almost convinced that all of this is just for show, but that’s when I see them.
They come trotting out of the forest, a line of centaur spirits. At first they flicker as they approach, like so many of the ghosts I've seen before not yet fully manifesting in this plane. They continue to grow less translucent, more solid, as Rontauk continues his chant.
I look back and forth between Revlen, Cade and Esras. They continue staring straight ahead, their eyes fixed upon the fire. I look past those in my condemned party to see it's the same for the centaurs. Some stare at the flames, and others look around, but not one of them looks in the right direction. The centaurs don't see the ghosts. With one exception.
Rontauk’s eyes track their progress as they grow closer, both of us gazing the same way. Suddenly his eyes cut to me, as I alone watch with him. In that moment, I can tell he knows. And, as always happens when I'm in the presence of ghosts, they're drawn to me. They stride past Rontauk and their living brethren, to congregate before me. Some cock their heads in curiosity, while others reach out. I reach out too, brushing my fingers against those extended toward me. The ghosts encircle me, passing through those standing in their way as they canter around me. One by one, each of them starts to reach out, touching my hand as they pass.
Rontauk openly gapes, not even trying to hide the stunned expression that’s taken over his face. Soon, all heads turn. The entire camp watches me, not seeing what only I and Rontauk see, but knowing they're experiencing something completely unexpected. The energy suddenly shifts, from that of a group collected to address matters of this world, to one beholding another world making its presence known.
The circling ghosts slow, and then come to a stop. I fix my attention on the one directly before me, a woman. I can't be sure how old she was when she died—she's from an entirely different race of beings—but I'd guess somewhere in her middle age. She has light blue eyes and graying blonde hair.
The words just come to me, as they always do in my role as a veil witch. “I can help you,” I say. “If you'd like to leave this plane, I can help you leave.”
She studies me with wondering eyes, then suddenly steps back. Her mouth drops open, as before me a glowing white orb appears. Even in this realm, with my hands bound, this one intrinsic magic comes to me. As I knew it would. I don't have to look around to know that all gathered here see it too. I can feel their collected confusion and astonishment.
The ghost centaur raises her eyes to mine again. Her lips don't move, but I hear her speak. We have sworn an oath. We must stay with our people during this time.
I nod my understanding, and the orb floating before me fades, then winks out. I hear those around me draw in a collective breath.
The ghost nods to me one more time, and then suddenly turns away. She goes to where Rontauk stands, as the other ghosts follow. They gather as a group, listening as the one who spoke to me now addresses the clan elder. Suddenly, he raises his arm and the drumming stops. The ghosts begin to fade, becoming translucent again, then flickering until they no longer remain.
Rontauk’s voice rises into the night, as he points to me. “Our ancestors have spoken. The afterworld will not hold this one. She’s needed here. Cut their bonds and set them free.”
CHAPTER 16
The sun is still rising as we ride through the prairie, and I’m told that we should soon reach Dabria’s village. Since leaving the centaur camp in the middle of the night, we’ve encountered no other signs of human life. Well, fae life. Not that I’m complaining. Less than twelve hours ago, I felt sure we were about to die, and I’ll breathe a heavy sigh of relief when we get to where we’re going. I realize it was unsafe for me to stay in Scintillia, but things haven’t exactly gone smoothly since leaving.
I keep scanning the prairie while seeing nothing. Each time we crest a hill, I see only more miles of prairie before me. I really hope these guys know where they’re going. If they’re wrong, what’s next? A band of hostile gnomes?
Finally, Esras says, “There, look.”
He points to the distance, and at first I don’t see anything. But then a flicker of motion catches my eye. I see a small, thin figure running away. I imagine it to be a young boy, but I can’t be sure. He’s too far away and quickly gone again, disappearing behind a swell of tall grass waving in the breeze.
“Sentry?” Cade says.
“Could be,” Revlen says. “Or just someone out trapping, but it doesn’t matter. They’ll soon know we’re here.”
I look back and forth between them. “But that’s okay, right? Are we talking about the people who live where we’re going?”
Esras nods. “We were hoping to send Cade ahead, once we got a little closer.”
“Why?”
Cade answers my question. “People out here have to be careful. Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”
Seriously, don’t worry? I really need to let Cade know how I feel about that phrase.
Soon, Revlen’s prediction proves true as we see dust rising in the distance. Not long after, hooves pound the earth as a group of riders becomes visible on the horizon. We slow our approach and wait.
There turn out to be four of them, all men and all armed with swords. Two of them have bows strapped to their backs, along with quivers of arrows. Those two hold back, while the other two approach. I get the idea. If something bad goes down, the archers can pick us off from a distance.
As they ride closer, the two figures grow more distinct. One man is older, perhaps middle-aged, his tan face lined and his hair streaked with gray. The other looks to be about our age, maybe a little younger. Otherwise, they share a resemblance, both strongly muscled, with bright blue eyes, square jaws and broad noses. I can only guess that they must be father and son. I brace myself for the worst, but both men squint at Cade as smiles spread across their faces.
The younger man speaks first. “Scamper, good to see you!”
Oh, my God. Scamper. There it is again. I really need to start using that.
“You as well, Jodelac,” Cade calls back. “Sent you out to greet us, did they?”
The older one speaks next. “We got word you were coming. How are you, son?”
That one gets a double-take from me, but clearly they were somehow informed that we were coming.
“I’m f
ine,” Cade says. “It’s good to see you, Gylth. How’s Dabria?”
Of course, Gylth must be Dabria’s father, Jodelac presumably her brother.
Suddenly, Gylth stops in his tracks. He holds his arm out to keep his son from riding forward. His eyes narrow as he takes in Esras.
“It’s okay,” Cade says. “He’s with the cause.”
I guess seeing Cade first, and then Esras, was enough to process. But now Gylth becomes aware of Revlen. “Is it true?”
She nods. “Yes. Esras is with us.”
Gylth lowers the arm meant to protect his son. “If you say so, of course.” The smile returns to his face. “Well, then. Let’s get where we’re going.”
We ride forward, as Gylth and Jodelac fall in beside us. Soon, the archers do the same, although they too appear stunned at seeing Esras. And I guess it makes sense that Revlen didn’t send word about him being with us ahead of our arrival. Obviously, it’s not a secret you’d want to get out. Although, come to think of it, the centaurs pulled that off with one of their lingualawks. Those horse people really are on top of their game.
Cade turns to Gylth again. “Wait, when I said Esras was with the cause, you hesitated. When Revlen said it, you believed her.”
Gylth laughs. “Exactly. You never change, Scamper, do you?”
What that means, I’m not sure, but Cade shoots me a look that pretty much says it all. I get it. His would be future father-in-law has a hard time taking him seriously. Oh, Scamper, my nerdy thieving buddy. Can you blame him?
We ride for another mile or so, and finally the town becomes visible. When it does, I realize why I had such a hard time spotting it before. Compared to anything I’m used to, it’s tiny. From our approach, it appears to be little more than a cluster of buildings, twenty or thirty at the most, out on a vast prairie and nestled beside a river and a copse of trees. The buildings also blend in perfectly with their surroundings, and it isn’t until we’re actually upon them that I can make out roofs thatched with prairie grass, and walls of reddish brown clay. Clearly, this little outpost was designed to be invisible.
Soon, we ride through what reminds me of a medieval village. The buildings are nearly identical, each simple and small. I assume most to be dwellings, while a few at the center of the town, somewhat larger, might be for meetings, storage or possibly commerce. People crane to look at us, some seeming mildly curious, others openly staring. The feeling I get is that those living here don't see many outsiders. There’s no doubt that Esras is the main object of their curiosity. It seems clear that he’s recognized as being at least a Seelie, if not a noble. Thankfully, we're with Gylth and Jodelac, the other riders having gone on their way. These two familiar faces serve to set minds at ease.
Before long, we reach Gylth’s house at the far end of the village. It’s identical to the others we passed, little more than a cottage with a garden beside it and a well. Inside, I wonder if we’ll find only one shared space, but walls divide the house into rooms. Although, none reach the pitched ceiling. At one end, a ladder ascends to a loft, spanning half the house.
A woman who must be Gylth’s wife stands inside waiting to greet us. Like her husband, she appears in some ways middle-aged, her face lightly creased and her hair showing traces of gray. But she too looks strong and fit, her figure showing not an ounce of fat. She wears a simple beige dress, revealing legs and arms that are tanned and toned.
“I'm Tayora,” she says. “Welcome. We're pleased to have you.”
As we introduce ourselves, she nervously spins a ring on her finger. A little strain shows in her face as well. I’m not sure what’s at the root of it. Could it be fear at the risk they’re taking? That has to weigh on her, at least a little. For that matter, the whole village would be at risk if the Seelie found out. I can only guess that our coming must have been discussed.
Tayora gestures toward a doorway. “You must be hungry and thirsty. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”
I can't help but notice that, so far, she addresses Cade no differently than us. I suppose his presence as part of the rebel cause might be new to her. The way she keeps twisting that ring suggests it's the case.
We enter the kitchen, where a young woman works at the stove. She turns as we enter, and she’s exactly as Cade described. Dabria has thick brown hair falling in curls to her shoulders. She has big brown eyes, a rosebud mouth and a smattering of freckles. And, of course, slender ears rising to points. Her eyes sweep over us to land on Cade, and they take each other in. Each has a smile tugging at their lips. In a silent moment, so much passes between them. Longing. Love. Joy at seeing each other. And just a tinge of palpable sadness. I've seen people who communicate less in three weeks than these two do in three silent seconds.
Tayora breaks the spell. “Dabria, are the dupple rings ready?”
Cade’s face lights up. “You made dupple rings?”
His reaction is boyish and natural, his enthusiasm speaking to his comfort here. Under different circumstances, I bet he's like part of the family. Although, if anyone else made the dupple rings—whatever they are—I doubt he’d be half as excited.
Dabria smiles more openly this time. Her eyes linger on Cade’s. Then she remembers that it was her mother who asked the first question. “Yes, they're almost ready,” she says. Her eyes travel to Cade again, before she turns back to the stove.
Tayora gestures to where plates have been laid out, upon a simple table constructed from planks. “Please, have a seat,” she says. “I'm afraid you'll have to pardon the poor state of our table. It sometimes doubles as my husband’s workbench.”
Her eyes cut briefly to Esras as she says it, betraying the true source of her nervousness. Suddenly, I make the connection. She's self-conscious at having a noble in her home. Despite everything, some part of her remains trained to view them as being superior.
Esras's cheeks color at her words. It's an awkward moment, which he saves by saying, “I can think of no greater honor. Thank you for offering.”
Jodelac cracks a smile. “If we're done with the formalities, can we please eat?”
“Good idea,” Gylth says. “Have a seat, everyone. I'll get the tea. Sorry, but there's no coffee out here. One of the few things I miss about the city, actually.”
Jodelac starts to sit and his mother says, “Not so fast, mister. Get the muffins and honey first.”
Now it’s Jodelac whose cheeks grow red, but he does as he’s been told.
We take seats at the table, as Gylth brings tea and Jodelac the muffins and honey. Tayora lays out plates of cheese and bowls of fruit. Dabria joins us last, bringing her platter of dupple rings, setting one upon each of our plates before she sits down. Cade isn’t the only one, I notice, eagerly eyeing what look like flat donuts glistening with glaze and sprinkled with confectioner's sugar.
Cade looks at me across the table, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You like dupple rings, right Cassie?”
I hesitate, not wanting to blow my cover.
Gylth is the first to laugh, but then the others join in. I look around, confused.
“We know where you're from,” Gylth says. “It's okay. Revlen told us. Go on and try your dupple ring.”
Now it’s my turn to blush, as everyone stares.
“Go on,” Cade says.
Thanks, Cade.
I slice my fork through the glazed batter, which parts to reveal a bright purple center. Weird. Since everyone keeps staring, I slice again and raise that small wedge to my mouth. My eyes pop wide as a blend of succulent fruit and warm sugary dough melts against my taste buds. Everyone bursts out laughing at the stunned expression I can’t manage to hide.
“Now you get it,” Cade says.
“Cade told us you don’t have dupples in your realm,” Dabria says.
“Nope, definitely no dupples,” I say, as I dig in for more.
“I may miss city coffee,” Gylth says, “but I’ll trade it for country dupples any day. They don’t grow any
better than they do right here.”
Thankfully, everyone turns their attention to their own dupple rings, leaving me to my private ecstasy. I try not to eyeball the platter, but it looks like there are enough for us to each have one more. Phew.
“So, here’s what we’re thinking.” Gylth gestures to indicate me and Revlen. “You two will share the loft with Dabria.” He turns to Esras and Cade. “You two will share a room with Jodelac. How does that sound?”
His point seems clear. Maybe this is really about Dabria and Cade, but we better not get any ideas. This is an old-fashioned Unseelie house and the same rule applies across the board. There’ll be no hanky panky under this roof.
“Absolutely,” Revlen says. “We hope not to inconvenience you for long.”
Tayora shakes her head. “It’s no inconvenience. We’re happy to help.”
“Speaking of which,” Gylth says. “What’s going on in Scintillia? Reliable word seldom makes it this far.”
“The city appears to be destabilizing rapidly,” Revlen says. “Which is both good and bad. On one hand, it means we can likely take action soon. On the other hand, the Seelie know they’re losing control. They keep resorting to desperate measures.”
Tayora’s eyes cut quickly to, and away from, Esras. It happens fast, but doesn’t go unnoticed by him.
“It’s okay,” he says, and then he waits for Tayora to meet his gaze. “I realize what my people have done. And I’m sorry that the actions of the few, over such a long time, reflect poorly on so many. But I’m more sorry for the indignities your people have suffered. I assure you, that in coming here, I’ve chosen a side. So, please speak freely.”
After a moment, Tayora nods. “Thank you.”
