The Doorway and the Deep

by K. E. Ormsbee

  She had been mistaken. The shouts she’d heard were not shouts of merriment, and the metal clangs were not that of chalice against chalice but of sword against sword. This wasn’t a feast. This was a battle.

  Lottie thought of Eliot, of Fife and Oliver and Adelaide. Her brain pounded with terrible images of what could be happening inside the cave. Her mind ordered her to move, to run, to search for the others, but her leg muscles had gone as stiff as hardened glue.

  “Move,” she said, a command she’d grown so used to in the past days. “Move.”

  Life slowly returned to her joints, but just as Lottie was about to make a run for it, something yanked at her coat collar, sending her legs sprawling out under her. Lottie flailed, swatting at her captor, but a hot, sweat-coated hand clamped over her mouth.

  “If you scream, Fiske, I swear to Oberon . . .”

  It was Dorian Ingle.

  Lottie shook her head, a promise to be quiet. Dorian removed his hand from her mouth.

  “W-what’s happening?” she asked.

  “Southerlies” was the grunted reply. “Somehow they breached our defenses.”

  I know how, Lottie thought, wondering again where Thwaite could be.

  “But they can’t just do that,” Lottie said. “That’s basically declaring war, isn’t it?”

  “Look, Fiske, I’d love to delve into a discussion about the political ramifications, but what I’d like best is for us to get out of this alive. Agreed?”

  “A-agreed.”

  Lottie found herself being raised to her feet with the help of strong arms beneath her own.

  “Listen closely,” Dorian said against her ear. “Stay with me. I can hear where the enemy is. We’re going to follow the boulders until we reach the cave. Then we’ll make a run for it.”

  “Why are we going inside the caves?” said Lottie.

  “Do you want to join up with your friends, or not?”

  “It just seems like—”

  “Save it, Fiske. Do you understand what we’re going to do?”

  Lottie nodded doggedly.

  “On second thought . . .” Dorian stooped. He motioned to his back.

  “Climb up,” he said. “I’ll carry you.”

  Lottie felt the absurd urge to laugh. “You want me to piggyback?”

  “Faster that way. And no chance of you running off. Get on.”

  Lottie climbed on Dorian’s back and wrapped her arms about his neck. He rose to his full height, and Lottie felt a surge of adrenaline.

  “Right,” said Dorian. “Here goes. Sorry in advance if I get us killed.”

  He set off. They ran along the curved line of the boulders. The sounds of cries and clashing metal filled Lottie’s ears. She soon felt her hands going slick with sweat. Then her vision blackened, and for a terrified moment Lottie thought she had fallen from Dorian’s back and into unconscious oblivion.

  But this wasn’t oblivion, for Lottie could still hear sounds, now compounded by the echoes of stone walls. They’d made it inside the cave.

  “Here, Dorian. Here.”

  Dorian veered a sharp left. Then he knelt. Lottie slipped from his back and blinked up in the dim light at Rebel Gem.

  “Lottie!” cried Eliot.

  He appeared from behind Rebel Gem and wrapped Lottie in a hug.

  “No time for that,” said Fife. “Come on.”

  Eliot grabbed Lottie’s hand, and together they hurried after Rebel Gem, who was already striding deeper into the cave. Oliver and Adelaide walked and Fife floated just ahead. Dorian remained behind Lottie, his sword drawn.

  Lottie recognized the route they were taking. Rebel Gem was leading them down the cramped tunnel that led to the pine clearing. Lottie was now well acquainted with the slope of the ground and where all the loose rocks and uneven places were. Eliot was not. He stumbled, nearly taking Lottie down. She righted him just in time.

  “Stay close to me,” she said. “I’ll walk just a little ways ahead.”

  Though they moved quickly, the passageway seemed much longer than it ever had before. At last, they emerged into the dark outdoors. Rebel Gem took them to the edge of the clearing and turned abruptly, throwing her hood over her head.

  “Dorian,” she said. “They go with you. Don’t let them out of your sight.”

  She said it calmly, as though she were reciting her two-times table.

  Dorian shook his head. “I’m not going without—”

  “That’s an order,” said Rebel Gem. “My place is here, protecting my people.”

  “Rebel Gem,” panted Lottie. “Iolanthe’s here. She tried to kill me.”

  “What?” cried several voices at once.

  “I think she came here for me,” said Lottie, “but she could also be here for your silver-boughed tree. You can’t let her cut it down.”

  “I won’t,” said Rebel Gem. “But if Iolanthe is still looking for you, there isn’t a second to spare. All of you, go. Dorian, you know what to do.”

  “She’ll murder you, Cora,” hissed Dorian. “You’d do your people a better service by protecting yourself.”

  Rebel Gem’s expression did not change.

  “Go,” she said again.

  It was a command that left no room for argument.

  Dorian strode toward the wood, but rather than pass Rebel Gem, he pulled her into his arms. Then he kissed her firmly on the mouth.

  “Whoa!” cried Fife. “Whoa, I did not see that—ow!”

  Adelaide had silenced him, hitting him hard in the stomach. Lottie looked away. She’d never before seen two people she knew kiss, and, more than that, she felt this was something delicate and absolutely none of her business.

  Just as suddenly as he’d kissed her, Dorian set Rebel Gem free again.

  “Come on,” he said roughly, to the rest of them.

  He disappeared into the wood. Fife floated after him without hesitation, Oliver and Adelaide just behind. Though Rebel Gem’s face was as calm as ever, there were tears streaming down it.

  Lottie stayed where she was. There was so much she wanted to say.

  Rebel Gem turned to her. “Run, Lottie,” she said. “Now.”

  Lottie ran.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  An Old Friend Returns

  LOTTIE KEPT Eliot’s hand clasped tightly in her own. Though Eliot ran hard, he and Lottie soon lagged far behind the others. Eventually Oliver noticed and called for the rest of the company to stop and wait up. Once Lottie and Eliot had closed the distance, they set out once more, but the space between them widened again as Eliot’s stumbles grew more frequent and his breathing erratic. They had no lanterns to light their path, but a full moon cast its eerie white light on the wood. After a full hour of running, the air grew heady with a bittersweet scent.

  “Frost plums!” cried Adelaide. “Oh, please let’s stop. We’re all aching, and no one’s following us, and there are frost plums!”

  To Lottie’s relief, they did stop, and only then did she have the chance to take a good look at the forest surrounding them. There wasn’t anything unusual about the trees themselves. Their bark was brown, and their branches fanned out in an ordinary way—nothing like the strange trees of Wisp Territory. It was what grew from the trees that startled Lottie.

  The leaves, wide and heart-shaped, were completely transparent. The fruit, which hung in heavy clusters, was the size of Lottie’s fist, plump and powdery, and colored light blue.

  “Is it edible?” Lottie asked.

  “Yef,” Fife said through a mouthful. His lips were stained an alarming shade of red from the pulp of the fruit.

  Lottie picked a plum from a branch so laden down with fruit that it nearly touched the ground.

  “Gather what you can,” said Dorian, “but we can’t stay here. We’ll need to find a more advantageous location to set up camp.”

  “What’s more advantageous than a wood full of frost plums?” said Fife, who had cast away the pit of one plum and was already at work on another.


  Dorian gave Fife a look that chilled Lottie’s already cold body.

  When he spoke, it was emphatic. “Get the food you want. Then we leave.”

  Fife shrugged. “Yeah, okay.”

  “I’m going to scout ahead,” Dorian said. “Don’t wander off.”

  He disappeared into the wood.

  “Sheesh,” said Fife. “Touchy, that one.”

  “He’s worried about Rebel Gem,” said Eliot, as though this were common knowledge.

  Adelaide, who had been busy filling her coat pockets with plums, stopped short.

  “Do you think they’re lovers?” she whispered.

  Fife fake-retched. “Oberon, Ada, never say that word again.”

  “I’ll say whatever words I please.” Adelaide turned her back on Fife and addressed the others. “Well, do you? I think it’s very romantic.”

  “You aren’t jealous, then?” asked Fife. “I thought you found him handsome.”

  Lottie thought Adelaide ignored the remark quite graciously.

  “I hope she’s all right,” said Lottie. “And Roote and Crag, and all the rest.”

  Though what Lottie meant to say was, I hope they aren’t killed because of me.

  “What happened with Iolanthe?” Oliver asked her. “How did she find you? How did you escape?”

  Lottie considered telling the others everything—that Thwaite must have been the one to grant Iolanthe access to the Northerly Court, that he was Nash’s younger brother, and that he’d tried to get Lottie killed.

  “Iolanthe kidnapped me on my way to see Rebel Gem,” she said instead. “Thwaite used his keen to protect me.”

  “Huh,” said Fife. “Didn’t think he had it in him. Good for Thwaite. And he’s . . . okay, right? I mean, she didn’t . . .”

  “I don’t know. We got separated in the wood.”

  She thought of Thwaite’s sorrowful face, cast in shadow. She hoped he’d escaped, that Iolanthe and her guards hadn’t caught up to him.

  “You don’t need to worry about the rest,” said Fife. “Iolanthe’s only advantage was the element of surprise. The Northerly Court’s got way more soldiers than she brought along, and she knows it. Northerlies might be disorganized, but they’re tough fighters. They don’t spend their time getting fat on puddings like in the Southerly Court. Did you see the muscle on some of that lot? They’ll outmatch those idiot soldiers in no time at all.”

  Lottie hoped Fife was right. Rebel Gem was strong, and she was a leader, but Iolanthe was King Starkling’s right-hand sprite. And if Rebel Gem was hurt and Iolanthe still on the move, then . . .

  Lottie shuddered. She couldn’t think that way. She busied herself with plucking plums and tucking them into her pockets. All the while, she kept a close eye on Eliot.

  “I’m fine, you know,” he finally said.

  “What?” said Lottie, shifting her attention to a loose coat button.

  “I see you watching me. I know you’re worried, but I’m all right.”

  “I haven’t told you yet about what happened this morning,” she said, in a low voice that the others would not pick up. “I can do it now, Eliot. I think I know how to use my keen. Really use it.”

  Eliot’s expression was unreadable. “Oh.”

  “That’s good news. When we make camp, I can try—”

  “No.” Eliot backed away. “No, I’d rather not.”

  Lottie frowned in confusion. “What? But, Eliot, don’t you understand what I’m—”

  “No, I understand. I just don’t need you to try your keen out on me.”

  “But I’m not trying it out. I’m trying to make you better.”

  “I—”

  But Eliot’s reply was cut short.

  “Come on, all of you! I’ve found us a place.”

  Dorian had reappeared, cheeks red from exertion. He waved for them to follow. Now fully stocked with plums, they started up a rocky incline that led out of the tree line to a flat, stone plain. Up ahead, a large rock jutted from a towering cliff face. It was curved on its edges, like a canopy.

  “We’ll rest here,” said Dorian, motioning under the rock.

  “Did you check inside?” asked Adelaide. “What if there are wild animals living in there?”

  “It’s perfectly safe,” said Dorian, ducking into the shallow cave. “See? Far better to have a roof over our heads and something solid at our backs. It won’t be a comfortable sleep, but it’ll be secure.”

  They settled inside as best they could, first kicking out stones and moldering leaves, then searching out the smoothest stretch of ground to lie upon.

  “I’ll keep watch,” Dorian told them, “but you can’t rest long. I don’t trust that we’re out of danger just yet. We’ll leave at dawn.”

  “Where are we going?” asked Lottie.

  “You lot are going to a town called Sharp Bend, where you’re going to stay nicely tucked away at an inn. I’m going to the Wilders.”

  “What?” said Lottie. “You mean, you’re going after the addersfork now?”

  “Do you have a better idea, Fiske?” Dorian snapped. “You’ve just seen for yourself how far Starkling’s hand has stretched. Iolanthe is in the Northerly Court, for Oberon’s sake. It’s not my place to speculate on whether addersfork can bring him down, but if fetching it means maintaining our alliance with the wisps, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “But what about us?” said Fife. “You’re just going to stash us in some inn?”

  “Look,” said Dorian. “There might be more assassins after Fiske here, and I don’t like the idea of dragging you kids into the wilderness. I know Sharp Bend well. I have friends there, people who will take care of you.”

  “Like Reeve and Nash took care of us?” Adelaide huffed. “No thank you.”

  “This is different,” Dorian said crossly. “I never said Reeve and Nash were friends. I’m talking about sprites I know and trust. And as a Northerly soldier, I can get you free lodging. Warm beds and food and—”

  “No,” said Lottie, crossing her arms and taking a step toward Dorian. “Not a chance. I’m going with you. It’s because of this stupid addersfork we were sent up here in the first place. Anyway, from what I hear, the Wilders are really dangerous. You’ll need help.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “What if you get hurt?” Lottie demanded. “What will you do with no one to help you? It’s better to have companions, and you know it. And don’t try telling me we’re just children. We’re all very capable, thanks very much.”

  “Lottie’s right,” said Eliot. “We should stick together.”

  “I agree,” Oliver said. “Strength in numbers. Two sturdy oaks, which side by side withstand the winter’s storm, and spite of wind and tide grow up the meadow’s pride, for both are strong.”

  “And just think,” said Fife, “I’ll be able to tell everyone I’ve been to the Wilders.”

  Adelaide remained conspicuously silent. Lottie wondered if she would’ve preferred staying in town but just wouldn’t say so with everyone else opposed. And, really, Lottie herself had doubts. Rebel Gem had said that few sprites were brave enough to venture into the Wilders. It couldn’t be an easy journey, and Lottie worried about Eliot making it.

  “Fine,” said Dorian, throwing his hands up. “It’s not like I can stop all five of you. But I swear, I’m not slowing down for anyone. We keep to my pace and my schedule, is that clear?”

  Everyone assured Dorian of how very clear his instructions were. Then they settled into tired silence.

  At least we’ll all be together, Lottie thought. Even though one of Iolanthe’s assassins or Iolanthe herself could be prowling nearby, at least I’m with my friends.

  When Lottie woke, it was without any memory of having closed her eyes. Their shelter was awash in pale light. Oliver and Eliot were already awake. They sat with their backs to Lottie, a pile of frost plum pits between them. Eliot’s shoulders were shaking with laughter. Lottie smiled. Then she winc
ed. As she sat up, she found she was unbearably stiff. Her head was pounding and her lips chapped. She struggled to comb her fingers through her knotted hair.

  “Oh, here,” said Adelaide, who sat nearby, a half-eaten plum in hand. “I’ll fix it for you.”

  She set aside the fruit and pulled a violet finch from her pocket.

  “Ribbon, Lila,” she said, stroking her genga.

  Lila tweeted obligingly, then made a delicate rumbling sound. She coughed once, then again, the opening in her beak growing larger and rounder until she coughed out a small wooden comb, followed by a strand of white ribbon.

  “Thanks, dearest,” said Adelaide, pressing a kiss on Lila’s head. She carefully wiped the film from the comb and ribbon, as Lottie had seen Fife wipe film from the medical vials Spool stored. Lottie sat still as Adelaide combed a path through her hair less painfully and more efficiently than Lottie could have. Then, with practiced skill, she twirled back Lottie’s hair into a neat braid, securely fastened at its tail by the ribbon Lila had supplied. When it was over, Lottie turned to Adelaide with a grateful smile.

  “I really missed you,” she said.

  Adelaide smiled back. “I missed you, too. Dorian might be pretty to look at, but he and his father are as uncouth as wild dogs. The house was a mess, and the food . . . well, I don’t blame Mr. Ingle, but you’d think for an innkeeper he’d have better cooking skills.”

  Though she’d been too afraid to try the frost plums the night before, Lottie’s stomach now groaned from emptiness. She ate one plum, then another, and then three more. So this was why Adelaide had been raving about them. Their flesh was light and crisp, with the slightest bitter tinge at its edges. Though the rest of Lottie’s body still ached, she felt more refreshed and capable as they set out on the morning’s journey.

  In the early afternoon, they stopped in the town called Sharp Bend to gather supplies. The town was little more than a single broad street bordered by houses, taverns, and shops. The buildings here were a far cry from the regal stone and brickwork of New Albion. They were constructed of wood and thatch, and all seemed in a general state of disrepair. Paint peeled from shutters, grime covered windowpanes, and Lottie heard the howl of a stray dog from a nearby alley.