Forest of the Forbidden

by W. J. May

  In their own way, the spirits had listened to her prayer. They couldn't let her trade places with the dead, but they could for a time, let her pretend.

  She felt her clothes again.

  Her savior, whoever he was, must have thought her a boy.

  Well, she was happy to keep it that way. And feeling the knots tied tight across her face, Jinji realized that this illusion was built to last—was permanent. Nothing would unravel until Jinji decided it was time to reveal her true face, to let the mask of her brother's features fall away.

  Now was not that time.

  Releasing her connection with the spirits, Jinji stood and looked over the water one more time. The sight of her brother gave her strength and made her feel less alone, even if it was just an illusion.

  Masked by Janu's face, she felt ready to find this man—her unknown protector.

  The Arpapajo were gone, but not forgotten. They lived through her, and venturing into the new world was the only way Jinji would ever be able to find the answers they all so desperately needed. So that was exactly what she planned to do.

  And maybe, after all of the mysteries had been solved and the shadow was gone, maybe then the spirits would let her drift away—maybe then they would let her truly enter their world.

  With a sigh, she turned and waved to the horse.

  "Follow," she said and the horse stepped forward. Satisfied, Jinji turned toward the tracks.

  The sun was starting to lower in the sky. They would have to move fast.

  Wasting no time, Jinji splashed through the water and ventured farther into the woods.

  The more she walked, the more footprints she saw and the more signs of life. Bushes carelessly chopped. Branches thoughtlessly broken. Something had been in her woods.

  After a long while, when the sky had already started turning pink, Jinji heard what she was searching for.

  Laughter.

  Deep, boastful, taunting laughter. The sound of men who thought they had won without even realizing the fight had yet to be fought.

  Behind her, the horse neighed and stomped its feet. Jinji reached for the leather straps hanging from its body, calming the poor animal down before securing it to a low-hanging tree branch. The time had come for them to part ways, at least for a little while.

  Using the growing darkness as a cover, Jinji moved closer to the noise. In these moments, her body felt as one with the forest. The dirt seemed to soften under her feet, muting any sound. The trees opened wide, letting her move swiftly between them. Even the animals quieted, as though they were in on the mission.

  Normally, she hunted for game. But not tonight.

  As the sun disappeared, a fire brightened into view, flickering through the woods like a beacon for her to follow.

  Jinji crept as close as she dared before stopping behind a large tree trunk and peering around the edge to survey the scene.

  There were five men—four smiling, and one distinctly more sullen.

  My rescuer, Jinji thought dryly, taking in the straps binding his ankles and the harsh angles of his arms, which must be bound behind his back. His skin was pale, reminding her of her joining dress, bleached by the sun rather than baked by it. His hair was light brown, fused with red, almost like a bird's feathers—a color Jinji had never seen on a man. Even sitting, he seemed rather large, stockier than the boys she had grown up with.

  But more than anything, Jinji found herself drawn to his eyes. They were green, like the forest, filled with a deep despair that Jinji understood. Hopelessness. The feeling of failure.

  Even though the two of them could not be more different, Jinji felt as though she looked into her own reflection. Her eyes, brown as they were, told the same story. And that sense of shared loss made her want to help.

  But how?

  Jinji shifted slightly, taking in the other four men. It was their laughter that had rung through the trees.

  They were not particularly large or threatening, more like foxes than bears, but still she was outnumbered. Jinji looked at the red tint to their cheeks, the jugs in their hands, the wide smiles plastered on their lips. Something was odd about them, like they had leaned too long over a fire and breathed in too many fumes. Their eyes were vacant, open, but unaware.

  Perhaps it would be easier than she realized.

  Jinji reached for the knife at her waist, but grasped nothing. She looked down, wincing at her idiocy. Her brother's skins. She was in her brother's skins, not her own. Her knife was a long distance away, back home laying useless on the floor.

  Using the firelight, she searched the ground, but a branch would not be nimble enough to wield against four foes. She could knock out one maybe, but four? No.

  Jinji turned back to the camp. They had to have weapons.

  She crept in a circle, moving behind the trees and just out of sight. The men looked unarmed and relaxed. But surely they kept protection with them.

  And then a bright light caught her eye.

  She looked closer.

  The hint of flickering fire gleamed from the dark.

  A newworlder weapon. Jinji had only seen them a few times; like hardened water they shimmered. Metal, she thought. The newworlders fought with metal and not rock. But, she sighed, it will have to do.

  It looked like her knife, slightly longer with a curved edge rather than a straight one, and a cuff circled the handle.

  But it was a few feet out of reach. She would have to make herself known before grabbing it, would have to expose herself. If one of them held a weapon she couldn't see, Jinji would be dead. And she would never avenge her people.

  Oh what she wouldn't give for a spear—something she could throw from the shadows. Slamming a fist against her leg in frustration, she searched for another option. But there was none.

  A drumming sound caught her ear, pounding closer and closer.

  From her peripheral, Jinji saw her rescuer look up with a gleam of hope, the smallest hint of a smile.

  A squeal sounded through the darkness.

  All four captors looked up from the fire, brows furrowed.

  The horse, Jinji realized. Her knot hadn’t been tight enough—thank the spirits.

  The thunder got louder, quicker.

  The men stood and turned toward the darkness on swaying feet, searching for the cause of the noise.

  Before she had time to second guess, Jinji jumped from the trees and ran the short distance to the gleaming knife, gripping its cool hilt.

  She felt eyes on her.

  Jinji looked up, right into the crystal green irises of her former rescuer. They were wide, shocked, and then satisfied.

  A deep yell interrupted her focus, and Jinji stood swiftly, swinging the knife into the throat of the man reaching for the weapons at her feet. Blooded spurted out, raining on her like a wave as he crashed to the ground.

  Before it was too late, Jinji gripped another knife from the pile, this one smaller and more like the ones she was used to.

  Another man turned from the darkness, looking straight at her, and she acted out of reflex.

  The blade landed with a thud against his forehead, sinking until only the hilt remained. All life left his face before he fell, knees first, to the ground.

  The last two men spun, taking Jinji in with surprise. She was small, she knew, but that didn’t mean she wasn't threatening. And two of their companions were already down.

  They stepped apart, circling her, coming closer at two different angles, and her heart sank.

  These men were trained—intelligence reflected in their eyes, their movements. She had never been in a real fight before, not one against people. Animals were different; they tried to run. But these men had turned in challenge.

  She brought the curved knife up in front of her face, flicking her gaze from side to side, never taking either man out of sight.

  They were creeping in.

  The man who had saved her before was wriggling his body, trying to get free of his bindings, was yelling ou
t to her, but she couldn't hear his words.

  Jinji's own breath filled her ears, loud and ragged. Her heart hammered with the decision to move left or right. Which man would she face and which would she turn her back on? She had to choose soon before they were both on her, unchallenged.

  One.

  She flicked to the smaller man, coming in from the right.

  Two.

  Her attention shifted to the larger man on the left, his eyes more unfocused, and his footing a little more unsure.

  Three.

  Jinji jumped and feigned right before moving all of her weight to the left. The man was slow, but his bicep rose just in time to block her blow with his forearm. The knife dug deep into the leather strapped to his skin, and though blood seeped through, it was not enough.

  She pulled, but the curved side of the knife had dug too deeply and Jinji could not get it free.

  The man reached with his uninjured arm, wrapping long fingers around her throat. He was too big. She kicked as his grip tightened. Her breath wouldn't come. His fingers squeezed, lifting her onto her toes as she tried to fight.

  Did I survive just to die like this? Could life really be so cruel—to give a glimmer of hope and then take it so swiftly?

  Over her shoulder, the other man grabbed a weapon and raised it high over his head.

  She tugged at the hand trapping her, but it did not budge.

  The other man readied his aim, preparing to lunge the metal straight through her back.

  Jinji closed her eyes, prepping for the blow, her family's faces flashing in the darkness. A new sense of failure and loss penetrated her heart.

  But the pain never came.

  Instead, pounding hooves broke into the clearing and the crunch of shattering bones sounded in Jinji's ears.

  The grip on her throat tightened.

  She opened her eyes, looking over her shoulder at the broken body under the horse's feet. The man's skull had caved in—his insides oozed out onto the grass.

  She looked forward into the fearful eyes of her captor, and knew what to do.

  His muscles held her, so Jinji jumped, using his arm as an anchor, and kicked both of her feet against his chest.

  A second later, she landed on the ground, banging her already sore head against the dirt.

  The man stumbled back, and the body of the horse soared into Jinji's view, ramming into his chest.

  The man fell, coughing up blood.

  Jinji reached for the knife that the other captor had dropped and stood.

  He was already dying, she could see. The strength had left his limbs, the knowledge of his own mortality seeped into his features.

  She arched back, brought the knife deep down into his chest, and twisted until the body stilled.

  Jinji dropped the weapon and stumbled back, shuffling her feet closer to the stools by the fire until her body fell heavily on top of one.

  Her hands were red, wet.

  She wiped them on the ground, trying to fight the sudden awareness shocking her senses.

  She had killed people. Killed them like they were food. No, like less than food. Animals at least served a purpose; they were not wasted. Their bodies fed the tribe, their skins clothed the tribe, their bones made weapons, and whatever remained was given back to the earth, to other animals that might use it.

  But these men, these four bodies were like a weight on the world. Useless and heavy.

  And why had she killed them?

  Jinji's eyes moved across the dirt, over the fire, and into the wary expression of the only other living person around.

  For him.

  For a guide.

  For answers.

  The horse had moved closer, nudging its head against the man's thick shoulder. He whispered something into the animal's ear and it stood, backing a foot away as though standing guard.

  He turned, looking through the flames and right at Jinji.

  When their eyes met, the spirits jumped into Jinji's vision, reaching out to her in a way they rarely did, making their presence known even in the darkness. And she winced at the brightness.

  Fire.

  All she saw were strands of fire, swirling and circling his body, spirits alive and constantly weaving new forms around his torso.

  It was dizzying.

  The bright red threads muted all of the other spirits, almost like he himself was a walking flame. She had never seen the spirits cling to a living being like this—they lived in the earth, in the soil and the leaves and the air and the streams, not in people.

  Jinji blinked and the spirits disappeared.

  The clearing was just a clearing, the fire just a fire, the trees just the trees. But the man was not just a man, not anymore.

  The spirits were guiding Jinji's path now—they had enshrouded her in the image of her brother, they had brought her to this man, they had circled him in fire. They were the only things left in the world that Jinji trusted, and they were telling her to trust him.

  She didn’t.

  Not yet.

  But still, Jinji stood and grabbed the knife, cutting his bindings free.

  ––––––––

  4

  Rhen

  Northmore Forest

  ––––––––

  For a third time that day, Rhen thought he was going to die.

  The first, perhaps obviously, was when he had been knocked unconscious. Always check behind you—the lesson had been drilled into him since infancy, and still he had forgotten in his excitement. Idiot, he cursed as the pounding in his skull continued—the pain a constant reminder of his stupidity.

  But then he woke, bound and bruised, yet somehow alive. And he cursed his awareness, because he knew his entire family and kingdom were at risk, yet there he was, powerless to stop it.

  The second time was when the boy had been seized by the neck, his weightless body dangling from the ground as the two remaining Ourthuri tried their best to kill him. And Rhen, trained as a knight by the best Whylkin had to offer, could do nothing but watch and wait for his turn on the sword.

  But then Ember, beautiful horse that she was, swooped in to save them both with the most perfect head-bashing stomp Rhen had ever seen.

  And the third was now as the boy knelt, staring at the blood on his hands with emptiness in his eyes. He was young and the Arpapajo were a peaceful people—those four men were most likely the only he had ever killed. And sometimes, that feeling could swallow a man, could make him lose his sanity, could make him lash out at the nearest living being...which just happened to be Rhen, still bound like a babe on the ground.

  He sighed, wriggling his wrists one more time.

  If his brothers saw him now, Rhen shook his head—he didn’t even want to imagine the endless banter, the ceaseless taunts.

  Ember knelt, nudging Rhen's shoulder with her forehead as if to ask, "What is taking you so long?"

  "Well fought, girl," he whispered, returning her nudge with one of his own. Pleased, Ember neighed softly and stood alert at his side.

  When he turned, the boy was staring at him. As their eyes met through the flames, the boy winced, jerking back ever so slightly, but not breaking contact. And then those dark brown eyes, flecked with gold, illuminated by the fire, jumped wildly around Rhen's figure, circling him.

  Rhen watched, unmoving, not wanting to break the trance. What did the boy see? What had him so wide-eyed? So intrigued?

  For a moment, Rhen's eyes flashed to the fire. But it was at least a foot away, and he had not touched it, despite the pull he felt in his bones. No, he mentally shook his head. There was no way the boy could know about that. It was his own paranoia sneaking up on him.

  Movement caught his attention. Rhen pulled his gaze from the flames back to the boy, who had stood. His features had hardened, resolute. He gripped the knife, stepping closer to Rhen, who leaned into the log at his back. Did he need to sic Ember on the boy? Or was he being freed?

  Sad, really, that he couldn't
tell, but the boy was iron, hard to crack. Either that, or Rhen had simply lost his touch—a very poor spymaster in the making.

  No, Rhen sat up and shifted his feet. He had saved the boy, and the boy had saved him. There was trust there, thin maybe, but existent.

  And a second later, the binds around his ankles had been slashed. Leaning forward, Rhen moved to give the boy access to the ropes tying his wrists behind his back.

  Free at last.

  Rhen sighed, rolling sore bones, and stood to stretch his muscles.

  "Thank you," he said, sounding loud against the quiet night.

  Silence answered him.

  Rhen spun to find the boy sitting back down, his gaze fastened on the hilt protruding from one Ourthuri's skull. It had been a nice hit, something to be proud of.

  "Did you know these men?" Rhen asked. "Were they the ones who destroyed your village?"

  The boy twisted, looking into the dark forest and away from him, but Rhen continued, urged on by the lack of a response.

  "Did they fight you? Surprise you? Is there anyone else alive? People who were away, who might have run from the fire? People who fought? Anyone we need to find?"

  "Please," the boy said, his voice ragged and scratchy, still high pitched due to his youth, "no more."

  Rhen sat still. His mouth had run away again. The urgency to save his own family, to gather as much information as possible, to fill this painful silence—it had stolen his common decency.

  It was a boy. Only a boy. And his silence assured Rhen that he was definitely alone in the world.

  "I'm Rhen, from the Kingdom of Whylkin. Do you have a name?" He reached out, touching a bony shoulder, but the child flinched away. Rhen pulled his hand back and settled it on his own lap.

  He waited, very much against his instincts, until the boy glanced one wet, lost, crinkled brown eye over his shoulder.

  "Ji—" he started and then paused. "I am called Jin."

  "Jin," Rhen said, stumbling over the strange word before nodding. "Well, Jin, it seems we're stuck together, unless you have some place better to be?" He raised an eyebrow in question, hoping to lighten the mood even the slightest bit.

  "No," Jin said, turning his body to reflect his word, placing himself very much in the camp with Rhen.