by Scott Hale
Feet shaking, he stood and started searching the room for a weapon, his weapon, or armor, or anything with which he could protect himself. But there was nothing here. Only darkness, and the chilling light that cut through the doorframe across the way.
“Hold on a minute,” a woman said. Her voice was muffled, but he could tell she was close. “You’ll break something bumbling around like that.”
The door swung back on its whining hinges. An ocean of sunlight flooded the room, which, now that he could see, looked more like a shed than anything else. It was a rickety, rundown hunk of hollowed wood that, for some reason, reminded Edgar of an oversized coffin.
Edgar cupped his hands around his crotch. At the threshold, a woman stood. He could tell by the way she carried herself she wasn’t impressed.
“No need, already seen it,” she said, coming forward, the long braid of auburn hair the first thing of hers he noticed. “Seen one, seen them all.” The words rolled slowly off her lips. “Welcome to Threadbare.” She held out her arms, which were taut with muscles. “I think you’ll enjoy your stay.” She winked, her large, green eyes like those of a reptile’s. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Voice quivering, Edgar asked, “What have you done with my belongings?”
“They… belong to me now.” The woman laughed, and shook her head. “I’ll give them back once you give me your name and how you got here.”
Edgar didn’t know what to make of the woman, but he could already tell he would like her. He cupped himself harder to hide this fact. “Edgar is my name. I don’t know how I ended up in the Nameless Forest.”
“You all still calling it that?” The woman cocked her head, as though she wanted him to drop his hands and grow-up some. “Where do you come from, Edgar? Even us here in nowhere come from somewhere.”
Eldrus, he thought, but didn’t say. What would she do if she knew?
“I’m Lotus, by the way.” She closed the gap between them. Near enough now that he could see the faint freckles on her cheeks and neck. “An unbecoming name for an unbecoming woman.”
“I think it’s lovely,” Edgar said, already intoxicated by her mere presence.
“I think if I pissed right here and now, you’d drop to your knees and call it gold.”
She was right; he wasn’t thinking clearly. “I’m Edgar. Edgar of the royal family of Eldrus.”
Lotus didn’t seem too surprised. “You don’t say?” She bit her lip, one front tooth cracked. She glanced over her shoulder at something outside. “On vacation, then?”
“I was taken.”
“Hell of a place to bring a date.” Lotus grabbed his hands and pulled him with her out of the room. “Let me give you the tour.”
She stopped, looked between his legs, and smiled. “Pants first, actually. Mornings are cold here. They put even the proudest men to shame.”
Threadbare was a small, thrown together village that had been built in a clearing surrounded by black barks and red oaks.
What Edgar saw as he came out of the house was all there was to see. According to Lotus, it was all they ever needed. Houses, a lumber yard, farms and barns, and wild animals. There were crops at the back of the village, too. They held crops he couldn’t identify and, despite Lotus’ insistence, refused to taste.
Given everything he had seen and those that roamed the streets, he assumed the population couldn’t be much greater than one hundred. But for a place such as the Nameless Forest, where death bred death, one hundred lives was something of an achievement.
“There was a woman in a white dress. She was covered in blood.” Edgar said. He and Lotus stopped in front of a store, every eye of everyone around fixed upon them.
“I know. A bit of her brought you here.” Lotus scratched off a chip of blood from his neck. “She could’ve killed you.”
Regardless of what he had seen, it still surprised him when a group of children ran out of the fields and into their homes, where their parents waited with open arms, not butcher knives. We know nothing about this place.
“Why didn’t she kill me? Who is she?”
Lotus raised her eyebrow, as though she had expected him to have already figured this out. “She has a job for you. Who is she? A mother, a queen, a god.” Lotus nodded at someone in the distance. “Stay long, and you’ll figure out what to call her.”
Edgar’s breathing became shallow as the gravity of his situation weighed upon him. “I don’t know… what’s going on anymore.” He rubbed his face. “This is still the Forest, right? Holy Child, what has happened to me?”
Lotus took his hand. “A drink it is, then.” She pressed her lips to his ear as he started to sway. “Follow my words, and I’ll see you through.”
Edgar did what he was told, because he didn’t know what else to do.
Lotus brought him to her residence. It was the largest home in Threadbare, and from the greetings and signs of respect she received on their way there, he pegged her as their leader.
She couldn’t have been any older than thirty, and yet the way in which she carried herself seemed to suggest otherwise. She had the presence of a commander, and yet emanated an aura by which all who stepped into it were relaxed.
She wasn’t beautiful, and yet Edgar found himself more attracted to her than he had ever been to any woman he had known before her. She was a contradiction, and yet he knew he would love her unconditionally by the night’s end, whether he wanted to or not.
“In the Old World, when they wanted to remember something, they would take a picture,” Lotus said.
Edgar had been staring at her, at this table, saying nothing for a few minutes.
“We’ve no cameras, but I’ve several portraits in the back for starry-eyed gentleman such as yourself. If you’d like, I could bring one up, give it a signature. Send you packing with a memento of me.”
Caught, Edgar said, “I’m sorry. My mind was elsewhere.”
“Oh, that’s a shame,” Lotus teased. She filled his cup with an unmarked bottle of alcohol. “Who were you in Eldrus?”
“Who was I? No, I’m going back.”
Lotus raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t count on it.”
The dark liquid swirled in Edgar’s cup. A purple foam gathered on the surface. “If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it already.”
“That would’ve been the logical thing to do, but this place isn’t exactly known for that sort of thing, is it?” She snatched the cup and drank half of it. “Matters not to me. Drink’s getting drunk, whether you like it or not.”
Edgar seized the cup to assert his manliness. “Tell me about the Nameless Forest, about Threadbare. About the woman in the white dress, about how the… how the… I… how I…”
“There, there,” Lotus whispered, helping his hands bring the cup to his mouth. “Stop your babbling.”
The liquid was thick and burned his throat. All pores and passageways in his body opened wide as the fiery sensation spread throughout his body. The anxiety that had crawled into his speech receded. The alcohol had beaten it back, back into its hidden cove, where it spent most of its time breeding with worry and low self-esteem.
“Thank you.”
“Doesn’t taste half bad for poison, does it?”
Edgar coughed out a laugh. She was joking, or at least, that’s what he told himself.
“It’s best not to settle on a definition of the Forest. It changes so much. But some things are constant.”
“Like Threadbare?”
Lotus took a drink, her gaze never leaving Edgar’s. “Quick as a whip. Yes, like Threadbare. And Anathema, Blackwood, Chapel, and Atlach. All those places, like here, are constant, too.”
“What about everything else?”
“If it’s been thought or said. Or hell, even if it hasn’t, then it’s happened here.”
Edgar took another drink, his mouth thoroughly numbed by the mixture. “How?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Lotus scratched the top of her hands. “Figure i
t out, and the Forest will probably change that part of itself. You’re asking the wrong question, Edgar of Eldrus.”
I am? He closed his eyes, where he saw Lotus’ afterimage on his lids. A portrait, he thought drunkenly. One I’d look at forever. His eyes snapped open to a sobering realization. I shouldn’t trust her. I shouldn’t trust any of this.
“What question should I be asking, Lotus?”
She grabbed his cup, scowling like Lena would. “Someone’s a grumpy drinker. You want to go home, right?”
He nodded, his newfound suspicions robbing him of words.
“Crestfallen. That’s what I call her, in case you were wondering. She doesn’t let everyone get away. And if she does, she has plans for them, a purpose.”
Cringing, he said, “What’s that?”
“What makes you think I know?”
“You do. I can tell.”
“Ah. Is that why you’ve been staring me down?” She considered the bottle. “Kill the four, leave the fifth, and she’ll send you home, to your black keep and gray skies.”
“How do you…?”
She curled the tips of her hair around her fingers. “Not much gets past me. Also, not going to lie to you, Edgar, you’re quite a catch.”
“The four? The four what?” Edgar backed away from the table. Unsteady, he struggled to his feet. He caught a glimpse of a glint of steel, his sword, behind a curtain across the room.
“Anathema, Blackwood, Chapel, and Atlach. Four men. One in each village. Crestfallen wants them dead. You want to go home? I saw the blood on your blade. I know the sword’s not for looks, at least, not all the time.”
“I don’t believe you.” Edgar swallowed hard. His anxiety had returned. It was climbing his ribs as though they were the rungs of a ladder. “You’re lying to me.”
Lotus coughed out a laugh. “Am I an idiot? Oh sure, I just sat around all these years waiting for some piss-poor warrior to stumble into these woods and do my dirty work. Edgar, I don’t give a damn what you do. I’m just telling you what she told me.”
“Why do you get to live?”
She shrugged. “There’s questions you ask, and questions you don’t. Besides, if she asked you to kill me, it would’ve been your head I took off first. Not your pants.”
Edgar knew he shouldn’t jump to conclusions, not in a place like this, where things operated on another level entirely.
So, he sighed and said, “Is she a liar?”
“I’m not sure something like her needs to lie.” Lotus stood and put her hands on her hips. “I know this isn’t the best time, but you’ll be leaving soon, and we’ve our appetites.”
Edgar took a step back. “What?”
“Don’t make me be vulgar. I know you’re not that thick.”
“We… barely know each other.” He shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. This is too much. I’m so far out of my comfort—”
“Do you get to know your food before you eat it? Your drink before you drink it?” Lotus walked toward him, and put her forehead against his. “I’m not looking for love. Tried it. Didn’t like it. Never developed the taste for it.”
He chipped away at the red on his fingernails. “What about the… thing that attacked me?” He liked where this was going with her, and didn’t; yet another contradiction. “It came out of her dress.”
“That’s one of her minions. The blood by which we’re bound. Hey—” she put her arms on top of his shoulders, “—don’t change the subject. It won’t be long before we never see each other again. And neither you nor I want to be kept up tomorrow night, wondering what we’d missed.”
CHAPTER VI
Forty Days Ago
Audra’s fingers moved over the candle, tugging on shadow and light, as though she meant to make of them something more than what the flame had in mind.
Animals and people crawled out of the smoky darkness and onto the wall. Like a puppeteer, she gave them life and purpose. Absorbed in her art, lost in their stories she was now telling, unease quickly fell from her face like a veil.
In this moment, Edgar could tell that she was happy, and beautiful, and all those other things he knew she had convinced herself it was not possible for her to be.
“How did you get so good?” Edgar whispered. He tried to nudge out a similar compliment from her twin, Auster.
“If ever there were a spellweaver in the family, it would be Audra.” Auster was as monotone as ever, but sincere.
Audra, sounding angry but looking the opposite, said, “Oh stop! It just takes practice.”
She’ll be young forever. Edgar watched his sister’s hands manifest a tree into the scene on her room’s wall. In every way, and people will make her suffer for it.
He sighed. “Accept the compliment. You know Auster is rationing them for his future wife. It’s a rare treat.”
“Fine.” Audra waved him off, causing a shadowy wind to ripple across the wall, shaking the figures on it.
Edgar and Auster looked at one another, their faces mirroring one another’s surprise.
Audra turned away from her dark world. “What’s going to happen?”
The heavy footfalls of the guards outside the door were the answer. She covered her face with shaking hands, and let the terrible thoughts she had been holding at bay finally overcome her.
“We’ll get through this,” Edgar said. He scooted closer and put his arms around her.
Auster, remaining where he sat, said, “I’m sure this happens a lot.”
“That… that is not helpful, Auster,” she whimpered, her hot tears soaking Edgar’s shirt.
“He’s right, though.” Edgar shook his head at his sister’s twin. “We are who we are, but we’re no different than anyone else. Bad things happen, whether you’re rich or poor, or—”
“I don’t want bad things to happen to anyone.” She pushed her head harder into his shoulder. “I know that, Edgar. I’m not a child. But it was an assassination attempt. He was close to us, Edgar. He walked right past me. I could have stopped him if I were only paying more attention for that kind of thing.”
“I think Mother did well enough stopping him,” Auster droned.
Audra pulled away from Edgar. There was a badge of snot and saliva dripping down the front of him. “I’m sorry.” She wiped it off. “I’m tired of being so weak, so… freaking trusting.” Biting her nail, she added, “Where do you think he came from?”
Edgar shrugged. “Here, in Eldrus, or I don’t know. There’s no good reason to try to murder someone, though. I can’t believe that.”
“I don’t know. I think murder is like a potion. Just takes the right amount of ingredients to make it. Two or three things to justify something you would never consider,” Audra said. She returned to the candle and, with her hands, raised two shapes from the smoky nether. “Father didn’t do anything to help.”
“He seldom does.” Edgar cocked his head at Auster. “He lacks enthusiasm.”
Auster arched his eyebrow. And that was it.
“I feel like…” she searched for her words as she formed a tunnel on the wall for the figures to enter. “I feel like we could be doing more. You’ve got your programs, your shelters. Lena sits on the council. Horace is practically king from everything he’s taken on lately.”
“Don’t forget Vincent,” Auster said. “But no one would fault you if you did.”
“Vincent’s not so bad.” The last of her tears sizzled as it fell into the candle’s flame. “He knows a lot about medicine, and myths and things from the Old World. If he wasn’t so selfish, he could help a lot of people.”
“What about you two?”
Audra’s hands took shape into something else, and yet the two figures she had formed stayed on the wall.
Edgar’s jaw dropped, but he pressed on. “You, Audra, are the smartest person I know. The most gifted botanist. And how you do what you do with the shadows…” He laughed, pointing at the two, freestanding figures. “I can’t even begin to understand.�
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Auster cleared his throat. “I’m good at a great many things, but I’m not great at anything.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Edgar said. “I can swing a sword because of you. I can quote stories and poetry because of you. I can name most, if not all, the stuffy dignitaries because of you. You’re a teacher, and a great one. No one taught me about the Scavengers or the Sailor’s Bane, or the political nonsense over the Divide. No one, except for you.”
“I guess,” Auster said, smiling. “We should make Eldrus a better place to live, if we’re all so damn talented.”
“Here, here,” Edgar bellowed.
“Shut up,” Audra said, giggling. She looked around the room and said, “I want to show you something.” She blew out the candle. But for the light of the moon, the room went dark. “You have to keep it a secret. You can’t tell anyone.”
“That will be easy enough.” Edgar nodded toward the door. “We’ve a whole squadron of guards posted outside the door, though.”
“Not a problem.” She winked at Auster, who, by his reaction, had already seen what she was about to reveal.
“Should I prepare myself, Auster?”
Audra hopped to her feet and went to the bookshelf.
“One should always be prepared,” Auster said, like an asshole.
“We have to be quick.” She took out a book and removed an old, rusted key from its hollowed-out pages. “And we have to be very quiet.”
Edgar nodded. Audra crossed the room to her writing desk. She went down on her hands and knees and crawled underneath it.
Coughing out the cobwebs that got caught in her mouth, she yanked out the rug there and began to pull and pile up the discolored stones beneath it. She worked quickly. The way in which she stacked the stones suggested she knew their every groove and eccentricity.
Edgar moved towards his sister. Squinting through the darkness, he saw that, as the last stone was removed, there was a metal plate in the floor—a door with a small handle and rusted keyhole.
Audra unlocked the door and pulled it back. A gust of wind blew past her face and filled the room with an old smell, an extinct smell; one that was both instantly recognizable and absolutely foreign.
