by Wendy Wang
Peter closed his eyes, bowed his head forward and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know. She could’ve done either. She is not exactly predictable.”
“All right, then, you send men into the city and I’ll go with a group of men into the forest,” Eryn said. Peter raised his head slowly and leveled his gaze at her. Are you leaving me, Eryn? I found you in the forest. Eryn frowned at her cousin’s thought. She wasn’t leaving for anywhere without Y’Ana. “How can you even think that? Is my word not enough?” She raised her voice. “We don’t have time for this, Peter. Either you trust me to come back or you don’t. Y’Ana is out there. Scared.”
“You really do love her, don’t you?” he said quietly.
“Yes. I do. Very much. Now, we need to go and find her. Are you going to allow me to do that?”
“Yes,” Peter said. “But I need you to promise me something.” Eryn kept her face as neutral as possible.
“What?” she asked.
“I need you to promise me you’re going to come back,” Peter said.
“Peter —” she said. Part of her wanted to take Trygg and run. If there was ever going to be a chance for her to escape, this would be it. She knew she could find the Sylvae again. And if she did, she and Trygg could go anywhere. She could go to Tamarik and tell Cai everything she knows about Peter’s operation. But she couldn’t leave Y’Ana. Not in Harbee’s hands. Not in Peter’s hands. “How can I say it any plainer? I will be back.”
Peter’s lips curved into a smile and he stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Mouse.”
“There’s no reason for you to find out,” she said. She patted him on the back, trying to reassure him. “We need to get moving. Y’Ana’s out there.”
“Let’s go bring our girl back,” Peter said. Neither of them talked about what they were going to do with Harbee once they did find Y’Ana. If had been up to Eryn, Harbee would have to be put down, like a sick animal. She just wasn’t sure if she was the person to do it. And she wasn’t sure Peter could do it, either.
******
Less than ten minutes later, Eryn and Trygg, followed by four guardsmen, set off into the forest. After they’d been walking a few minutes, Eryn stopped at an ancient ash tree. She put her hands on its rough bark and closed her eyes. I need to find the Sylvae. Can you help me? The tree quaked beneath her fingers, its branches rustling above her head. Images filled her head with trees in the distance glowing, each one lighting up, showing her the path. She opened her eyes and glanced in the direction the tree had shown her.
“I know where we’re going.” She stalked off, not waiting for them to catch up. Every ten minutes, she stopped and asked the same question of the trees. Where is the Sylvae? The trees lit the path for them, guiding them deeper into the forest. They traveled for nearly two hours, stopping only to take sips of water they found at the base of the trees from an underground spring. Trygg carried an empty flask and filled it, in case they could find no water. The closer they drew to the Sylvae, the fewer birds and animals they heard in the trees above.
The canopy was thick here, making the light gloomy and purplish. Trygg stayed close to Eryn, not letting her more than an arm’s length away. A thunderous crack came from ahead of them as one of the tree’s branches stretched backward. Its spiky branches penetrated the guardsman walking ahead. He screamed in terror and pain before being plunged deep into the ground. Another guardsman cried out and disappeared.
“Stop!” Eryn said. She stepped close to a silvery maple and touched it. It showed her a circle of trees ready to defend a ghostly woman and a child. It showed her the trees killing the guardsman - by stabbing and by suffocation. “She’s commanded the trees to kill us.”
Trygg stepped in front of her. He held out his baton just as the other two guardsmen did, the tips glowing red, ready to blast fire towards the next tree that moved.
“Can you stop them?” Trygg asked.
“Maybe,” she said. She stepped out from behind Trygg’s protection, her heart thundering against her rib cage. A branch from a nearby oak creaked as it extended downward, its branches sharp, ready to pierce her body. It wrapped hard, knobby branches around her body, picking her up. She closed her eyes and touched its bark, stroking it gently. I am a Wood Kael, she told it. You are to never hurt a Wood Kael, even at the command of another. It is against your nature. The oak trembled and groaned. Please let us pass.
An image filled her head—Trygg and the two guardsmen that were left alive. The tree sensed Trygg was a Water Kael. It showed her water spinning around him like a cyclone. The other two guardsmen were Fire Kaels, and it showed them standing inside the flames of a bonfire. It growled. I have no loyalty to them. I cannot let them pass.
Perhaps not. But you must allow me to pass. The tree shuddered beneath her hand. Let me pass. The tree’s leaves began to rain down, fighting with itself over the two commanders—Harbee and Eryn. Let me pass, she said again, gently this time. The oak set her down on the fresh carpet of leaves.
“It won’t let you in.” She stood between the tree and Trygg and the guardsman. “You must stay here.”
“I can’t do that.” Trygg said stepping forward. “I can’t leave you alone.”
The oak reached around Eryn, heading for Trygg.
“Stop!” Eryn held up her hand. Trygg’s eyes widened as he watched the tree branch shake. A moment later the branch split into a thousand pieces. “You must. I can’t stop them all. Stay here.”
Trygg frowned, but nodded. He called the two guardsmen to him and they put their heads together. She wanted to stay and listen to their thoughts but she heard Y’Ana cry in the distance and she headed into the dark gloom within the circle of trees.
******
Harbee paced back and forth in front of the ancient oak. Eryn remembered the day her father had escaped through the tree, leaving her behind. A cold pang filled her chest. How had Harbee found the tree? How was she worthy, as her father had called it? But more importantly, would Harbee be able to open the tree before she could reach them?
Y’Ana sat on the ground, her thumb tucked tightly in her mouth, her knees to her chest and her other arm wrapped around them. She rocked methodically back and forth and Eryn knew how they’d found the tree. Y’Ana. Of course. As an innocent she would be worthy.
“Harbee?” Eryn called. “Harbee.”
Harbee continued to pace, stopping every few seconds to hit herself the forehead with the heel of her hand. She babbled under her breath, and her thoughts—little splinters of nonsensical glass— shredded through Eryn’s mind, driving her to her knees.
“Stop hurting her, mama,” Y’Ana wailed. Her cheeks reddened and shiny tears streaked down her scrunched face.
“I’m all right, Y’Ana.” Eryn fought her way through the pain, rising to her feet again. “What’s wrong, Harbee?”
“I can’t open it. I don’t know why it’s not opening. I tell it to open, but it won’t.” Harbee slapped the tree. “I just want to go someplace safe with my daughter. I just want to go someplace safe. Someplace where no one can take her away from me.” The words coming from Harbee’s mouth mashed together in an almost unintelligible sentence.
“Harbee,” Eryn started.
“I can’t paint. I need to paint. I want to paint. I just want to paint. But I can’t paint without Y’Ana. I need her.” Harbee paced back and forth again, holding her hands to her head. Unaware that she was even speaking aloud.
“Harbee, I can help you. My father opened the tree before,” Eryn said, using her most soothing voice. She took a few steps forward, holding her hands out. “I saw him open it.”
“Peter won’t want me if I can’t paint.” Harbee turned around and screamed at the top of her lungs. “Peter won’t want me if I can’t paint!”
Y’Ana buried her eyes in the crook of her arm and rocked back and forth. Eryn edged closer to the girl. If she could just get close enough to the child
, she could grab her and run for it.
“You cannot have her!” Harbee said. She jerked Y’Ana to her feet and the child screamed.
“You’re hurting her,” Eryn said. “Please, Harbee, don’t. Think about what you’re doing.”
“I’m trying —” Harbee said.
“Mama, please!”
“Harbee, just let her go. Just let her go and we will go back to the mansion and talk to Peter. Peter loves you. He will always —” Her voice cracked. “He will always want you,” Eryn said, not sure she was telling the truth. He had said he needed Harbee for his projects, to take the realms, she assumed. But he did not once say he wanted her. If she couldn’t help him reach his goal, would she be cast aside? Or would he kill her? Eryn shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts. Peter had said he needed her, too, but she knew the minute he stopped needing her, she was dead.
The flash of fire whistled by Eryn’s head, striking Harbee in the chest, pushing her backwards against the ancient trunk of the Zoie. Harbee dropped the girl to the ground and the child curled into a ball. Another fireball flew towards Harbee and she screeched, catching the fireball in her palm.
Harbee wound her arm and thrust the fireball back towards her assailant. It exploded at his feet. Eryn rushed forward and pulled Y’Ana into her arms.
“No!” Harbee slammed her palm to the ground and the earth began to shake beneath their feet. Eryn dropped to her knees, clinging to the girl. Behind her, one of the guardsmen screamed. She held Y’Ana’s head tightly against her neck so she couldn’t see as the trees pierced through the two guardsmen. She kissed Y’Ana on the cheek and peeled her arms from around her neck.
Eryn touched the ground, calling to the ancient tree. The Zoie rumbled and its roots formed a protective cage around the girl.
“Y’Ana. Give me Y’Ana.” Harbee thrust her hand out. One of the ancient tree’s branches curled in, capturing and dragging Trygg into the circle of trees, towards Harbee. “If you give me Y’Ana, I will give you your lover.”
“Harbee, don’t harm him,” Eryn begged. One of the smaller branches wrapped around Trygg’s throat, tightening.
“I will give him to you but you must give me Y’Ana,” Harbee said. Y’Ana reached through the branches, her little hand grasping Eryn’s skirt. She knelt close to the child. Y’Ana’s fingers touched her cheeks, wiping away the wetness.
“I love you, Eryn,” Y’Ana said. Eryn held the girl’s tiny hand against her cheek.
“I love you, too, Y’Ana.”
“I’ll go with my mama,” Y’Ana cried softly.
“Oh, sweetheart, I can’t let you do that,” Eryn said. Y’Ana pressed her fingers against Eryn’s mouth. She wrapped her little hand around one of the bars of the woven cage and the roots receded into the ground. When Y’Ana was free, she threw her arms around Eryn’s neck and hugged her tight. Then she ran towards her mother.
“Let Trygg go, Mama,” Y’Ana said clearly, with no shake or fear in her voice. The child had grown so brave.
“Take him,” Harbee said, her silvery blue eyes locking onto Eryn’s. Eryn nodded her head, afraid to speak, hating herself for not fighting harder for Y’Ana. The tree released him, and he stumbled towards Eryn. She held her arms open, waiting to feel his body safely in her arms. They would get Y’Ana back. Even if it meant hunting Harbee to the end of the world.
Harbee grabbed the girl by the arm and put her hand on the Zoie. She screeched and slapped the tree when it didn’t open for her. It didn’t matter, though. The tree would never open for her. Harbee’s face jerked back towards Eryn — the lines growing dark and she stroked the bark. The branches creaked again, turning towards Eryn and Trygg.
“Hurry,” Eryn coaxed. Trygg stumbled on the slick leaf litter and little roots emerged from the ground. He pushed himself to his feet and sprinted towards Eryn, jumping over the roots. Tendrils reached for him, twisting into curls when his feet brushed them. “Stop it, Harbee! You’ve got Y’Ana. Just go!”
A large branch snaked across the ground. A root wrapped around Eryn’s leg and gave it a yank. “No!” Eryn shouted at the root. It shivered for a second before splitting apart and falling away. She shook it off and hurried towards the outer ring of the trees. The scream stopped her cold and when she turned, Trygg dangled in the air. The branch had pierced his back and emerged from his gut. “Oh, please, Jerugia, no—” Eryn mouthed and knelt to the ground, grabbing roots in her hand. The branch quivered and a moan came from the tree. A second later, it pulled itself from his body, dropping him to the ground. Eryn rushed to him, not caring if the tree attacked her next. Without Trygg and Y’Ana, she had nothing to live for. It may as well kill her.
“I’m here,” she whispered, covering the gaping hole in his belly with her hand, trying to draw it back together. She had no healing ability. Nothing to offer but her presence. “I’m here, love.” She kissed his forehead and wiped the dribble of blood coming from his mouth.
“Eryn—” he mouthed.
“It’s all right,” she said. Mucus and tears leaked into her mouth—salty and slick. She stroked his hair. “It’s all right.”
When she looked up, Harbee stood next to her, looking down on them.
“The tree won’t open.” Her pale blues stared at Eryn, vacant as ever, as if she didn’t remember what she’d just done. Eryn glowered at her. “You said you could open it. I need you to open it.”
“What? Have you lost your mind?” She turned back to Trygg. His blue eyes focused on her as his life slowly drained away. “I’m here. I’m not leaving you.”
Y’Ana nuzzled against her. Behind her, the trees started to creak again. A root poked through the ground and stroked her leg, comforting her. Harbee reached down and jerked Y’Ana to her feet. The girl squeaked and began to cry.
“Trygg,” Y’Ana said in an almost unintelligible voice. “Trygg. Trygg. Trygg.”
“Stop it, Y’Ana,” Harbee screamed at the child. “Stop!” She picked the child up and started to shake her. Eryn had had enough.
“Harbee!” Eryn screamed, getting to her feet. “Let her go!”
Harbee stopped shaking the child and glared at her.
“Be quiet, little Mouse. This is not your child.”
Eryn stepped sideways and brushed her fingers across one of the low-slung branches. The tree twisted, branches groaning. Some splintered above, raining down debris and wood. Harbee dropped the child and held out her hand. A fireball the size of a walnut appeared. The branches closed in. Not seeming to care, Harbee threw the ball of fire against the base of the tree. A thunderous rumble came from below, shaking the ground, forcing Eryn to her knees. There was no way she would be able to beat Harbee. She could not measure against Harbee’s four affinities. Harbee cast another fireball hitting the trees leaves. They caught fire and smoke began to fill the forest around them. Eryn crawled toward Y’Ana.
“Y’Ana,” Eryn said. Smoke coated her tongue, burned the back of her throat, and she couldn’t stop herself from coughing. The heat pressed in on her. She could see Y’Ana’s dark form and reached for the crying child. As soon as Eryn’s hands touched the girl, Y’Ana launched herself into Eryn’s arms.
“Y’Ana, we have to get out of here,” Eryn said. The girl cried against her neck.
“Trygg,” Y’Ana said softly. Eryn’s arms tightened around the girl. A root emerged from the dirt again, stroking Eryn’s back. When she glanced up, something silvery and ephemeral glowed through the smoke. The tree’s trunk had split open. The passage had shown itself. Everything stopped. The earth stopped moving and the fires burned out. The light shimmered, beckoning. The wind began to blow around her. Leaves scooted past, twisting and twirling in the little cyclones. Harbee grabbed Y’Ana, yanking her from Eryn’s arms.
“No, mama,” Y’Ana said firmly. No more tears or screaming came from the girl. “No, mama. No.”
Eryn launched to her feet and grabbed Harbee by the hair. “Let her go!”
Harbee screa
med, dropping the girl to the ground. She struck Eryn hard across the jaw. For a moment, red stars danced before her eyes and she breathed in the moldy fumes of dead leaves. Eryn watched Harbee drag the child into her arms and walk towards the tree’s open passageway. Light flickered around their dark forms. Y’Ana’s hand reached for her and Eryn drove herself to her feet.
“Stop her!” Eryn called to the trees. Roots and branches stretched and uncoiled, obeying Eryn’s commands, grabbing Harbee around the waist. She screeched through her teeth and Y’Ana scrambled out of her mother’s arms to the ground. A fireball appeared in Harbee’s hand and a root wrapped itself around her wrist so tightly her hand turned blue and the flame snuffed out. Harbee opened her mouth to scream again and a root pushed its way down her throat, exiting at the base of her skull. Eryn reached for Y’Ana, pressing her tiny face against her neck so she didn’t have to watch her mother die at the hands of the Zoie tree. Harbee’s body went limp in the tangle of roots.
Tendrils wrapped the woman in a tight coil from head to toe before pulling Harbee’s body deep into the ground. Eryn closed her eyes, burying her face in Y’Ana’s hair.
Twelve
The forest grew quiet, except for the whispering wind of the open passageway. Y’Ana pulled out of Eryn’s arms and placed her hands on her cheeks. The girl pushed to her feet and stumbled towards Trygg. His hand, outstretched, covered in blood, reached for her.
“Trygg,” Y’Ana said. Eryn scrambled to her feet and rushed to his side. She couldn’t believe he was still breathing.
“I’m still here,” Eryn said, taking his hand in hers. Tears blinded her and she kissed the back of his hand. The taste of coppery blood coated her lips.
Y’Ana moved to Trygg’s head, placing her little hands on either side of his face. She knelt close and kissed his forehead.
“It’s okay, Trygg,” Y’Ana said. “I’ll make you better.”
