by A. K. Koonce
“Clearly, it would. Come on now, let’s hear it.” He taps his foot impatiently, only continuing in my silence. “Here, let me help you. ‘Miranda, could you please be a dear and assist me in my climb?’”
My sigh is long and low. Practically a bitchy groan, really.
“Miranda, could you please give me a boost onto this tall-ass wall?” It takes all my willpower and then some not to roll my eyes as I speak.
“Wow, and you sound so ladylike when you say it.” Miranda does roll his eyes. But in the end, like the good friend he is, he comes forward and hoists me up the wall.
I grab onto the elusive protruding rock, settling myself against the cold stone. Snow makes my clothing damp and cold. Glancing around, I look for other bits of the wall to grab onto.
“Um,” I clear my throat. “What do I do now?”
“Seriously?” Miranda asks, already climbing nearly a foot above me. “Find a lip, dig your fingers into it, then find another one to balance your feet on.”
Right, right. My need to escape whatever it is out there that wants to eat is making it impossible to even think. That’s probably what the monster is banking on.
Not today. That’s not how I go.
With a growl, I pull myself up until I find another edge to cling to. Then I do it again and again. Hey, I’m not so bad at this, considering it’s my first time.
Cold throbs through my fingers, aching all the way down to the bone, as I dig my fingers into a snow-covered ledge. Despite the cold, sweat beads on my forehead as my muscles warm.
I lift my boot, the toe of my shoe seeking for purchase amongst the ice. Hitting the small rock that pokes out, I put my weight into it, shifting to push up to another handhold. Pebbles scatter, raking against the wall and bouncing down to the ground below. Like the fine dust of winter, the stone crumbles under my weight.
Wet vines tangle in my hands, my reflexes searching for anything to grab. Carefully, I lean into my other leg after letting my boot frantically search for the rock that is no longer there.
My throat feels tight. The reckless thrumming of my heart an untamed beat within my ears. Icy air hits my lungs in deep panting breaths. I glance up at Miranda, who waits no more than a foot away.
“You’re overthinking it,” he says as if he doesn’t believe the words himself. “Take your mind off of the task and just let your instincts take over. This isn’t hard. Not yet.”
Not yet.
Without my conscious permission, my gaze travels to the forest floor that lies so far below us. Fearfully, I squeeze my eyes shut.
We are so high. If you fall from here, you die, Syren. Don’t you fall. Don’t you dare fall.
“Syren, remember there is magic here that will make your fears feel so much worse than they are. Don’t look at the ground, look at me.”
His green eyes are glassy, matching the slick of sweat that gleams off his forehead and upper lip. When he speaks, it’s with more confidence than I can muster at the moment, even though I can see the way his hands tremble against their holds.
“You know,” he continues, reaching up to find the next rock. “Bear and I came here when we were just boys.”
“Is that when you discovered the witch?” I purse my lips, following closely behind Miranda. This one slip, one fall, will not define this entire trip.
“No, no. King Doverrett had used this witch before she revealed herself to work with us when Bear came of age.” Snow falls from under his boot, scattering droplets of water across my face.
“Hey.” I mumble, flicking my fingers out so that the water dissolves into the air.
Miranda huffs a laugh under his breath. “Sorry.”
Is he, though?
“No, before we knew the witch lived here, this was just another spooky forest that kids whispered about. We got dared by some little royal brat that had heard about it while his father was here on business to last an entire night camping out here.”
“And did that happen?” Monsters I’m sure don’t exist live here; they feel real here, even if it’s only in my mind. I can’t imagine being a child and willingly staying under the pine canopy for long.
“Bear lasted longer than me, I’ll admit. Though I’m pretty sure the both of us shit our pants within the first five minutes here.”
“How embarrassing.” I can’t help the nervous smile on my face. “Did the boy get a good laugh out of it?”
“Eh, that’s not really how the story goes. We came home with our tails tucked between our legs and filled with stories about all the terrible things we saw in the shadows of the woods. The boy was certain he could last longer—that we were both just buffoons lacking the courage of a proper man.”
“And then he tried it and fainted?” I interrupt. Hope surges through my chest as I see the top of the wall nearing. Miranda nearly hangs from the lip already.
“That would have been a better ending. No, he disappeared. He went into the forest, and he didn’t return.”
“Holy shit. You’re joking.” Plumes of air cloud before my face as I reach the top, gratefully taking Miranda’s hand as he pulls me to him.
“I wish I was joking, my Queen.”
Clouds pool around our waists as if we sit within the sky. Each breath of air isn’t enough to fill my lungs. The stone beneath me seems to sway, the tree tops dancing in the wind that isn’t blowing.
“What do you think happened to him? Did a monster eat him?”
Miranda squeezes my hand. “I don’t know. In my personal opinion, I think the witch did.” A small teasing grin lights up his face. “Are you ready for the descent?”
I shake my head. Haven't we gone far enough? Down there will be the monsters I don’t want to revisit or new ones I have yet to imagine.
“Oh, come on Syren. Find your brave.” He pats my hand, his face pale as though he has yet to find his own brave.
“Find your brave.” I mock, swinging both my legs over the edge. “I’ll fucking show you brave.”
I send ice scattering over the edge. The sound of it hitting the ground never quite makes it to my ears. Finding holds for both my feet, I edge myself lower. Miranda quirks an eyebrow as he watches me carefully, his muscles tense and ready to grab me at any wrong move.
Satisfied that I’ve got it under control and nervous as I disappear underneath the haze, Miranda lowers one foot. I try to focus on the sole of his shoe. The texture of it and the way it hits the stone and keeps him in place.
Below us, the forest continues about its night. Animals call out to one another. Loud caws, squawks, and low rumbles of growls remind me that we aren’t alone in this madness. The monsters will never let you forget that they exist.
Each muscle strains to keep gravity from pulling me off the wall. Fire burns from my fingertips through my forearms and into my shoulders and back. This side of the wall holds much less snow than our climb had. Instead, it’s replaced with slick layers of moss that squish under our toes.
One stone is nearly too slick to hold me, my other leg reaching out to find a new home. The ball of my foot touches down into what feels like mud, my boot sliding. Not finding anything to slow the slip of both my feet, I call out. My voice echoes through the trees, birds scattering at the fright.
Miranda sticks his arm out with a grunt, and I reach. But it isn’t enough. It’s like my body was asleep until now. Every sense wakes up to the feeling of free-falling. A slow motion that makes the details of the world more acute.
But nothing stops my weighted freefall. Nothing keeps me from the twisted tumble through the air.
5
Ripples of Riddles
Syren
Pine needles and knotted tree limbs slice into my skin. Bitter lashings sting like whips as the air rushes past me and the ground nears. My screams tear into the forest. I can feel my fear reaching for the new familiar safety of the bond.
But in the thought, it doesn’t find anything. My screams are just as I hear them. Merely an echo in my descent.
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Pain shatters through my left arm as it bounces off a branch. Wood splinters under my fingertips that curl around each passing twig. Then it stops. Every ounce of breath left in my lungs escapes me as my stomach makes impact with a thick limb that halts my plunge to the forest floor.
I wrap my legs around the tree branch. Flat rough bark bites into my cheek as I rest my face against it. I’ve stopped moving, but the world around still sways. Or is it the tree that’s moving?
Wheezing, I struggle for a deep breath. Dirt and pine cling to the air and suffocate me with every ragged inhale.
Cuts along my arms sting, a bruise already forming on my forearm. I’ve lost a boot. Wind passes through my cloak where it is tattered to scraps along the edges.
Rasping out a cough, I scream up the wall that is lit only by the evening stars just paces past the tree.
“Miranda? Miranda! I’m okay.” Silence follows my words. Had he fallen, too? Had he missed the tree? Panic jolts me upright, the branch bowing with my movement. I have to find him.
Dismissing the pain of the cuts already in the process of healing, I edge down to the branch below me. Taking it limb by limb, I swing down the ancient, tall tree until one boot and one sock-covered foot hit the chilly dirt.
The muscle in my right calve screams as I walk. I stop to hold it for a minute. I stop to try to calm my frantic heart.
“Miranda!” I scream out again and begin to hobble toward the wall. Are my words lost within the clouds? “Miranda!”
I touch the uneven stone wall, looking up to where I expect my friend to be. Nothing and no one greets me. Limping, I pace against the wall, glancing up every few feet to try and find my Miranda. Occasionally, I look for him amongst the trees. Even less often, I scour the ground.
Shivers travel down my arms. I hug myself and hobble forward. A dark lump of something sits ahead against the wall. The closer I get, the more obvious it becomes. Even after my mind races, suggesting all the worst possible options, what waits for me is just rubber and cloth. My shoe.
With a grunt, I pull the shoe on. My back flattens against the horrid brick wall, the fabric of my cloak bunching as I slide down into the dirt with a growl.
Bear. Bear, I’ve lost Miranda. How do I get to the witch? What do I do?
I close my eyes, fighting back the urge to scream out in frustration. My hands, trembling and marked with dried blood and splinters, cup around my mouth to catch the heat I blow into them.
Within my mind, I grasp for the bond that connects me to my husband. I cling to it to follow it and feel the steady rhythm of his breathing. Nothing but my own churning thoughts respond. I can’t feel the reassuring murmur of his heartbeat or hear any response to my worried question.
I am alone.
“Miranda!” I scream again and, in the silence, release a shuddering breath. Roughly, with white, taut knuckles, I hit the wall on either side of me and let out one more earth-shattering scream.
If Miranda is alive, he will hear me. Miranda would never leave me. Unless he would. Unless he wanted to protect his witch. If Miranda cares for her more than he does me, would he not take this chance to make himself scarce?
No, no, no. This isn’t happening. My friend would not abandon me. My husband would not abandon our bond.
Hot and wet tears build along my eyelids as I push up from the ground. I have to carry on and find this witch. There isn’t a way for me to make it back over this wall at this point. The witch will have to get me home.
If there is a home. If the people I’ve come to love haven't decided to toss me to the wolves yet again.
And what if King Iri has changed his mind once more? Am I to become like the others? Princess Emella, who ran away without a trace. Or his other fiancés, who could never quite make it to their wedding day?
No one knows about us. He could get rid of me without issue.
Gritting my teeth, I fold the material of my cloak that remains around my body. “Miranda?” I try again, but my voice doesn’t carry as much enthusiasm this time.
Time has ticked away in my search. The moon takes its place high in the middle of the sky. Each twinkling star mocks me, none bright enough to lead me home, all of them winking in their distant ridicule.
This enchanted forest is beginning to feel less like my journey to answers and more like my deserted island. It’s the moment the King's men were gone, and their ships could no longer be seen on the horizon. It’s the rumble of hunger low in my gut and the feeling of helplessness that becomes overwhelming.
The world presses in on me. Gravity pulls me down to the sodden earth and reminds me how utterly alone I am. Panic grips my chest. It presents itself in uneven breaths that leave my head dizzy and makes my lips tingle as they go numb. My limbs are sluggish as I curl into myself.
I am alone. I have been abandoned. They did it again.
A solid weep shakes my shoulders, and even when my crying stops, my shoulders rattle until I’m bringing my head up. Distantly, I can hear a voice calling my name. Lightly, a touch brushing against my back.
“Syren, Syren! Syren, I’m here.” The voice grows closer, moving with a momentum that takes the words from a soft whisper in the great expanse of woods to yelling in my ear. Features, familiar and right, appearing like a ghost in front of me until they aren’t fog anymore but the physical.
Miranda’s eyes are red-rimmed, his cheeks rosy, and his hair disheveled as if he has brushed it away from his stinging eyes a thousand times.
“Miranda?” My voice breaks.
He sighs audibly, brushing the tears away from my cheeks and gathering me in a hug. “I never left you. You were never alone.” His voice is a hoarse murmur in my ear. “I came down from the wall as soon as I could. I answered you every time you said my name, but you couldn’t hear me. It’s the witch's magic fooling you.”
My gasping cries and solid hot tears slow. Inside my mind, I reach out, feeling around for any remnant of the bond I feared I had lost. Bright, glowing, and strong, the bond remains, and the second my mind registers it, I can feel Bear’s relief.
My Queen.
I laugh, thankful for the sound of his rough voice. With both arms, I wrap Miranda in a hug and bury my face into his shoulder, thanking the Goddess.
I thought you had abandoned me, I acknowledge sadly.
I know exactly what you thought. I felt everything you felt. I will not leave you nor abandon you in anything you do. Nothing, nothing could ever make me love you less. You, Iri growls, are mine, forever.
Miranda pulls away, offering me a hand as he stands. “We’re almost there.”
Brushing the dirt from my cloak, I moan as I stand. “Thank the Goddess.” I smile weakly.
“Are you okay?”
“Sore, but I’ll be fine.” The words feel like a lie through my teeth. Feelings of loneliness and dereliction still too raw and real. “Did you not feel the effects of the magic?” It’s a silly question, seeing as Miranda looks like he climbed through hell and back to find me.
He walks slowly before me, leading me closer to his witch. Miranda tosses the words over his shoulder without turning to give me his full gaze. “The first time I came through this forest, I saw and felt my father’s fist as he shouted at me all the ways I was and never will be good enough. Eventually, I wasn’t afraid of that anymore. I didn’t care for his approval. Now, I see my friends lost and afraid, feeling alone and scared while there isn’t anything I can do. No matter how loud I shout or how many times I shake you, you don’t feel it until the spell is done with you. That is my new fear and greatest punishment.”
I take a large step over mud and broken sticks, weaving my fingers through Miranda’s. “But we are almost there, right? We are almost done.”
He bobs his head, curls falling back over his forehead. “How, uh, do you feel about spiders?”
Blinking, I think for a moment before I speak, trying to comprehend where this is going. “Well, I don’t enjoy them or wish to keep the large
r ones as pets. What kind of spiders are we talking about? Like man-sized spiders?”
“No, they aren’t big.”
“They,” I repeat.
“They.” He points ahead with one pale and boney finger.
Under a halo of moonlight, like a spotlight to pinpoint the way, the mouth of a cave ripples and moves like the waves of the ocean.
“It’s moving,” I say, squeezing his hand. “More witch magic?”
“It’s not moving. They are moving.” His feet pause, and he turns toward me. Taking my other hand in his, he stares me down, speaking calmly. “We will move slowly. The faster you move, the more likely they are to bite you. One step at a time. Keep your mouth closed, unless you like the taste of arachnids. Which I do not.”
The closer I look, the more apparent it becomes that it isn’t a racing tide of magic that sways the structure but the movement of thousands, millions, or even billions of tiny spiders climbing over each other. Across the earth, they cling to the plants that sprout from the tiny blades of grass growing through the dusting of snow. Webs glisten like ghosts in the trees above.
Shit. This is going to suck.
Gulping down the worry that makes my throat tight, I give Miranda my bravest nod. Knowing nothing could be as bad as facing my biggest fear only moments before.
I expect that as we walk through them the arachnids will scatter, fearful of being squashed beneath our boots. Yet they don’t. Sickening pops and crunches of their small armored corpses becoming gore under us fill the air. They rise toward us with every step. Cascading black beady bodies travel over our toes, some daring to travel up our legs.
