by Brindi Quinn
“Hold the Queen!”
These were the words that rocked me from the reaches of slumber. The voice was Windley’s; the arms around me, Rafe’s, and the wallop beneath us was sprinting faster than ever before.
“Damn, fucking moon!” Windley was cursing up at the heavens, where Luna’s orb was positioned directly above us. Strange, I had watched her pass over her normal course, but now she was back in the center of the night sky, sending down a fuzzy ray of golden light in the field behind us, moving just out of reach of the wallop.
“What’s happening!?” I squirmed in Rafe’s grip.
“LUNA,” was all he said, arms clamped around me so that I wouldn’t fall over the edge of the racing beast.
“That jealous bitch stretched the night somehow!” roared Windley. “And she’s marking us with a beacon! Those feathers are useless if she’s telling the wraiths exactly where we are!”
“Wraiths?”
But I didn’t need to ask, for behind us, in the dim of night, I heard them growling low—the things the echoes had warned me about—hundreds crawling, swarming, flying, coming for the conjurer!
Led, apparently, by that stream of light pouring from Luna.
“This golden light is telling them where to find us!?”
“Yes!” spat Windley, egging on the wallop. “That’s why she didn’t turn gold; she was conserving her strength! She must reeeally hate you, mate. Hell hath no fury like a moon goddess scorned!”
“Rafe, switch places with me! I’ll cast the echoes at them while you keep me steady.”
“There are too many, Your Majesty!”
“I mean only to buy us time. Try to reason with her, Rafe! You cannot give her your heart as promised, but maybe she will take mercy if you appeal to her!”
“MeRRin?” From their resting place, the echoes pushed at me with their dark intention as if to say: ‘May we please? May we please?’
“Yes, it’s time.”
With my permission, their attituded swiveled:
“Destroy their souls! Wrench them from this plane! The dead things! The unnatural things! Kill them! Chew them! End them!”
There was little time for thought. We had to act as one. Me, the echoes, the guards looking at me as though I were mad.
As Rafe held my waist and Windley focused on directing the wallop, I threw my hands forward into the chasing darkness and felt the swell of otherworldly hands spew forth from me like a barrage of night-cloaked arrows. I felt them make contact, tangling with the mess of supernatural things pursuing us. Some of the meritless ones sizzled, others popped, while the vast majority growled and squawked with power hunger.
“Rafe!?”
“Argh! I don’t think she can hear me!”
“What if you raise your sword and try that magic babble of yours?” suggested Windley.
He meant the incantations Rafe spoke whenever getting a charge.
“Good thought!” I said. “Try it, Rafe!”
With one arm around me, the other he used to unsheathe his frostless sword and hold it to the sky, while I sent another blast of darkness into the inky night behind us.
“Shit!” said Windley, veering the wallop’s course. “More coming from the east!”
To make matters worse—
“This isn’t working!” shouted Rafe. “Either she can’t hear me or she’s ignoring me!”
Then there was no helping it.
“Windley, slow down and let Luna’s beam catch us.”
“Are you crazy?!”
“DO IT.”
“…Is that an order?”
“No,” I said. “But do it anyway. I have a plan!”
Reluctantly, Windley eased up on the wallop’s speed, allowing Luna’s golden ray to encompass us. The ravenous bedlam of those without merit heightened. By the sound of it, they were gaining.
“Whatever it is you’re planning, you’d best hurry it, love!”
With an unqueenly grunt, I redirected my focus to the lightstream above us. The power within me may have been great, but I didn’t know how to destroy hundreds at once, so I would narrow my concentration, collect my efforts onto a singular target.
Sometimes the problem isn’t the flies but the flame that draws them.
Bathed in golden light from Luna’s rays, I amassed all of the energy within me and pushed it from my core and straight into Luna’s beacon, calling upon the one most likely to help—the one I regretted needing: “EXITIUMMMM!”
It is difficult to describe what happened next, for it isn’t something the mortal eye typically perceives, but I’ll try my best.
As the power of the echoes shot upward through me, it was as if that nebulous beam of gold shining down from Luna had physical form, as if it were a glass cylinder that could contain the darkness. Exitium’s shadowy power filled up the shaft of light, pushing against the edges until the whole of it burst, sending out scatterings of twinkling light that fell around us into the meadow like a shower of stars.
“That-a-girl!” whooped Windley from the front of the wallop.
Left without clear direction, and with Rafe’s scent yet cloaked with the crow’s feathers, the mass of wraiths on our tail dispersed in confusion, chasing after strewn droplets of light that fizzled into the ground. We continued to race even after the last of them died. Even after the pounding in my ears faded.
Yet again, Exitium had saved us.
And this time, it was almost second nature.
Rafe muttered an awkward apology for being unable to converse with Luna, which I dismissed, for I was keenly watching the goddess’s movement to see if she would finish her course and turn night into day.
“Looks like she got the hint,” said Windley. “See? She’s moving again, this time in the right direction.”
Thank goddess. But not that goddess.
We waited until she was three-quarters along her path and until the growl of the wraiths had completely dwindled before stopping to allow the wallop rest.
For now, we seemed to be out of danger’s way.
“We can’t stay here long,” said Rafe, surveying the area, which had no cover. “We need to find somewhere with shelter and water to make proper camp.”
Windley patted the wallop’s trunk. “Let’s give the fellow an hour before we get him back on his feet. Feel free to do the same, chap. I can tell you’re tired.”
Rafe looked to me for approval.
“Yes, Rafe. It’s fine. I slept a few hours on the wallop, and Windley, well, he’s still coursing with my stolen energy, isn’t he?”
Windley raised a hand. “Guilty.”
“We have stamina enough to keep us safe,” I assured.
Rafe grumbled something in compliance and settled down beside the wallop, using his pack as a pillow. Quickly, his breathing turned heavy.
Meanwhile, the wallop reached its trunk out to pull Windley nearer. With a chuckle, Windley scratched behind its massive ear: “You did good, pup. Just a short rest for now; I promise a longer one in the morning.”
“Windley, you’re rather good with animals, aren’t you?”
“Some animals. Like people, it depends on the caliber of their spirit. This one’s got a nice spirit—isn’t that right, pup?” Under his breath, he added: “Unlike that rambunctious stag of yours.”
“Hey, Ruck’s spirit is just fine! He’s simply misunderstood!”
“Whatever you say, queenie.”
After, Windley and I settled on the flowered ground and watched to make sure Luna was still on track. True to her nature, she inched ever toward the edge of the sky.
“Rafe’s one unlucky bastard, with an ex like that.” He gave me a haughty look. “I suppose the only thing scarier would be having you as an ex, your lioness.”
“You should be so lucky. Men have died for that honor.”
No men had died for that honor.
“I’d like to meet these supposed ‘men’ someday.”
“Haven’t you been listening? You�
�d have to go to their graves.”
“Ah yes.” He twitched his jester’s grin, pleased with our play. “The only way out, it seems. Well, Rafe’s lucky you were there to steal the show again and save him from his fate again.” Behind his hand, he coughed the words, “Queen showoff.”
“It’s easy to show off when in the presence of those with lesser skills,” I teased.
“Lesser skills? Mm, I would like to use my lesser skills on you right now, lion queen. You wouldn’t be so smug within the palm of my hand. You’d be molten.”
This was nice. It was genuine. For the first time in days, there was no hint of Windley’s dark, forgotten past keeping tabs on him. This was the Windley I liked best.
I thought to take advantage of it.
“By the way, was what you said before true? That it doesn’t matter to you what a person looks like? So I can just let myself go, then? Fill up my hair with sticks and leaves? Eat all the pastries I desire?”
“First of all, you should always eat all the pastries you desire, and second of all… is this you fishing for compliments? I mean, you have eyes, don’t you? You’ve seen the way I look at you.”
He was right. I knew he was attracted to my body, and I was seeking reassurance for what I already knew. I told you:
Glut-ton.
His mouth cracked in amusement. “It’s fine. I’ll give you what you want… since you saved us, and all.” He shifted closer. “When I said I’m attracted to spirits first, bodies second, I meant it more like…” He thought a moment. “Humans tend to desire a person’s physical appearance first and then their traits, right? For my kind, it’s the opposite. Only, replace ‘traits’ with ‘spirit,’ because a person’s spirit is like the sum of their traits in a way.”
“I see.”
We were getting closer to what I wanted from him.
“And what is it about my spirit that appeals to you?”
“Ugh. If I had to come up with something…” He put up a devious front: “You’re down-to-earth, you don’t take yourself too seriously, you see everyone as equals, you’re determined—some would say stubborn, you fight for your beliefs and for those who cannot fight for themselves, you aren’t afraid to show vulnerability, you’re clever and rife with wit, and you’re too modest to realize how beautiful you are.”
He rambled them off as though they were nothing, plucking at least five heartstrings in the process.
“Now—” He leaned over me darkly. “What is it that you like about me?”
But it was hard to speak, for he was toying with me, and pride is a fickle thing.
In fact, there was a time not so long ago where I would refrain from giving him compliments because it felt like letting him win or giving him ammunition.
“Like I said, stubborn,” he cooed.
“I’m getting there. Sometimes it’s hard to be soft with you.”
Other times, it was remarkably easy. It was this transition from friend to lover. We seemed to move freely along that spectrum.
“It’s amusing, watching it unfold inside your head.” Chin against his knuckle and eyes showing sparks of fondness, he gave a sigh. “I would love to be in there.”
Now that we had admitted our love to each other, he wasn’t holding back on looking at me that way. I felt my cheeks and neck turn flush as I hid my eyes in my knees:
“You’re confident, strong, witty, you see me for who I am really, and you let me be myself at all times. You’re encouraging… when necessary, and you don’t care what others think of you. You say whatever you want, do whatever you want. You’re playful, take risks—”
Was it just me or was he getting nearer, his mouth getting softer?
“And it feels like with you beside me, I can do anything,” I finished.
It wasn’t my imagination. He set his lips nearly to mine and tucked my hair behind my ear.
“It isn’t easy for a Spirite to fall in love. But it was easy with you, my queen.”
Inside, my heart throbbed for him. I took the back of him, pushing my fingers into the muscle at either side of his spine, inviting him to finish what he had started. With a cocked grin and with his eyes drilling deeply into mine, he brought my face to meet his.
Maybe it was the adrenaline of the night’s events—
But goddess damn. It was explosive.
With all of those reasons voiced, I knew, more than ever, that Windley’s past wouldn’t faze me. I knew this bond of ours, forged over eight years of banter and friendship, wouldn’t be broken.
But the confession had the opposite effect on Windley.
When he pulled away from me, he wore a face different from any he had worn that day. On the edge of emotion, he cupped my cheek. “Thank you, lion queen. This is what I wanted before…” He looked off into the dim horizon. “Whatever tomorrow brings, I’m glad you told me your heart today.”
There was finality to it, as if he was saying goodbye.
In that moment, I understood, later than I should have:
Not only did Windley fear how I would react to his past.
Windley thought he was altogether undeserving of love.
When we again mounted the wallop, I snuggled up close to him, as if my closeness could convince him of his worth, holding the edges of his shirt until I passed into drowsy sleep.
Are you still with me, captive ones? We’re getting close.
Chapter 7
A Hermit’s Abode
“Your Majesty.” Rafe woke me in the early hours of dawn. He and I were no longer atop the wallop; the beast rested shortly away beside a small pool of water swathed in fog and with sheeny reeds poking up from below. The flowered ground was moist with dew, but Windley’s cloak had been stretched beneath me to keep me dry.
Thank goddess the night had finally passed.
Again, any goddess but that goddess.
The terrain had changed somewhat from last night. While the distance remained coated in a blanket of blue petals, now there were squat trees littering the landscape, sporting similar flowers that dripped down the brittle branches like vines. Short, craggy plateaus also lived here, formed of rock with a pearly quality that complemented the fields of blue. The brume of morn covered all of this in a thin veil of foggy white that smelled and tasted of morning renewal.
Breathtaking.
And I had come to know a thing or two about having my breath taken.
“I never dreamed the south would be so beautiful,” I told Rafe.
Beau would love it. Her prettiness would blend in well against the backdrop. Rafe may have been thinking the same thing, for he was quiet as stone. Windley, meanwhile, was—
He was—
“Hey, where’s Windley?”
“Scouting that place out,” said Rafe, yet stuffed with feathers.
He meant a small lodging at the side of the nearest plateau, which I had overlooked in lieu of the elysian scenery.
“A home! Have we reached southern civilization?”
“Not yet,” said Rafe. “It’s a hermit’s abode. Windley said to give him ten minutes to check for inhabitants, then follow him.”
The hermit’s abode was empty and sparse of supplies, nearly as web-coated as the woodcutter’s hut, but at least it offered a waystation for wash and rest. Rafe prepared breakfast from the pond, while I scouted the area for edible vegetation and Windley worked to stitch feathers into Rafe’s cloak using thread from the magician’s pack.
Though dawn fell to morning, the fog didn’t lift. The sky, which had been so open to allow Luna’s onslaught just hours ago was now hazy with gray, giving moody aura to the blue-stained plains.
Now I liked them even more.
I wandered a short distance from the dwelling, within eyeshot of Rafe, and knelt in the flowers, pretending to gather amaranth, though I had already picked plenty. In actuality, I was tipping my ear into the abyss, to conduct my own version of scouting.
Swirling darkness caught me with a hundred eager hands.
/> “MErrIN.”
“merRin.”
“MeeeerriN.”
“Exitium,” I spoke against the disquiet, “are you there?”
“I am always here, within your soul.”
“This isn’t my soul.”
“You deny what you know to be true. It is your soul. Your false self has already started to peel away. Your bloodlust stirs at the edges. I will not ask if you can feel it, for I know the answer.”
“I’m not interested in more talk of my soul’s corruption. I’m only holding the echoes for a short time, and then they’re going back to Beau. I will not become who you say I will.” I pushed my intention against it harder than ever before.
It was wasted effort.
“Too late for that, Merrin. I told you the first time you spoke my name, doing so was to forge a new path—one from which you cannot stray. Together, you and I will speak destruction. Together, we will rewrite the world.” One hand, more material than the rest, rose from the depths, worming up my nonexistent body and taking hold firmly of my neck. “Together, we will kill everything.”
“No!” I wrung myself from the sloshing umbra. I had meant to ask Exitium about the painted coast and the sun goddess, Soleil, and for any other intel that might help us on our quest, but that certainly wasn’t happening now.
I wouldn’t enter the darkness again unless absolutely necessary.
“We shall see…”
Exitium’s distant voice echoed in my head. I pushed it away until it was swallowed by the rest of the din. Then that too I pushed away until the only sound was the moody stillness of the meadow.
Yes, defeating the blood stags and wraith felt undeniably satiating, but it wasn’t as though I was dwelling on it, repeating it over and over in my head, trying to drown it out with other thoughts…
To stare power in the face is a dangerous thing.
Windley, Rafe and I—it seemed we were each battling demons, and our current plan was for those demons to cross paths.
Was that really such a good idea? Maybe I should have questioned it. Maybe you would have, captive ones.
But I didn’t. None of us did.
Windley was finished with Rafe’s garb by the time we returned with breakfast. He may not look it, but Windley was an excellent seamster. In fact, most guards were at least somewhat versed in the homely arts, for they spent their days caring for queens.
