Forest of the Forbidden

by W. J. May

  Rhen choked.

  "And the long version?"

  Jin shook his head. "We must find a place to hide. Do you know anyone in the city? The princess said she could take us no farther than the lower districts."

  "What was her name?" Rhen asked, still lagging behind Jin's words.

  The boy's eyes narrowed and his head titled slightly to the side. "Leenaka..." He said slowly.

  Leenaka.

  Odd. Foreign.

  He let the sound roll over his tongue.

  Lee. Naka.

  Leenaka.

  He could get used to that. Now he just needed to see the face hidden behind the veil.

  "Rhen?"

  "Yes?" He said, jerking up. Then he remembered. "Wait, when she runs away?"

  "Rhen, the king will soon be looking for you. He wants to kill you. We must find a place to hide. Now."

  Rhen looked around, pushing his distracting thoughts to the side. They were hidden in this alley for now, but the boy was right—more than he realized maybe. Rhen lifted his hand, running his fingers over the ridges of the cut on his forehead. King Razzaq wanted him dead—but now he needed him dead, needed to stop this story from making its way to King Whylfrick.

  The robes would help, but even still, Rhen would be noticeable. Jin's darkened skin and black hair hid him a little. But Rhen, with his reddish white skin and cherry-auburn hair, would stand out from the crowd.

  Sons of Whyl weren't made to blend in.

  "Come on." He motioned for Jin to follow. "I know just the place." And surprisingly it's not a brothel, Rhen thought, proud of himself.

  It was a ship. One had luckily been sitting in the harbor earlier that day. And Rhen prayed it was still there.

  He walked closer to the busy street, checking once to make sure Jin was ready before stepping into the crowd. Carts rolled, pulled by neighing horses or the owners themselves. People walked. Children ran. Merchants shouted.

  Rhen looked around, trying to spot a marker and catch his bearings in this strange city. When he looked left, his gaze traveled up an incline. When he looked right, it slanted down.

  Right, Rhen decided and stepped forward. Down meant farther from the palace and from the king. Down meant closer to the docks and to freedom.

  An instant after they started moving with the crowd, bells sounded from above. At first, it was just a dull twinkling, distant and musical. But with every passing step, the sound grew, almost as if the notes were raining down from the palace, pelting Rhen in the head the farther he ran. By the time they reached a bend in the street, the ringing had grown to a furious roar—menacing and omnipresent. There was nowhere to hide, to escape.

  Spotting a street vendor, Rhen pulled Jin to the side and casually grabbed two scarves from the cart when the man was busy and not looking. The material was coarse and scratchy, but it would do.

  When they disappeared from eyesight, Rhen lifted the rectangle over his head, draping it like a hood down over his forehead.

  "Jin," he whispered, looking over his shoulder, "put this on."

  The boy took the cloth and copied Rhen's style, but still, the two of them were being stared at. The hood hid a little bit of Rhen's skin and hair, but it could not cover everything—especially his size, which was almost double that of the men around him. But more so than anything, people stared at their covered arms, hidden beneath the robes. No visible tattoos. A sure sign that they were not from the Golden Isles.

  They needed to get to the docks and fast.

  Reaching back, Rhen tugged on Jin's robe, urging him to move faster.

  An iron bridge slipped into sight on the horizon, leading down to another plateau of the multilevel city. Guards in deep conversation blocked either side. In the archway, a bell shook back and forth, joining in the cacophony.

  And suddenly Rhen realized what it was—an alarm. The city was being locked down, which could only mean one thing—the king had just learned of Rhen's escape.

  Letting his thoughts wander for a minute, Rhen prayed for the mysterious princess's safety. But—he glanced at the soldiers as they weaved into the busy streets with weapons held high—his own safety was clearly the more pressing issue.

  The bridge was close.

  But a gate was being cranked across it, sealing the opening shut.

  How would they make it through unnoticed?

  A commotion filtered into Rhen's ears—shouting and yelling. He shifted his gaze to the left, smiling when he saw a man sitting atop a wagon. A man who was fighting with two Ourthuri soldiers and gaining more attention by the minute.

  He couldn’t understand much over the din of the crowd, but it sounded like the man was a merchant trying to return to his ship with the goods.

  Which meant one thing—the next platform had to lead to the docks.

  Reaching out his arm, Rhen halted and stopped Jin behind him. He shifted to the right edge of the street, across from the fight about to break out, and kept creeping slowly closer to the bridge.

  More soldiers stopped patrolling, instead turning to the noise of the argument. A few walked out of the guardhouse beside the bridge, joining their comrades against the sailor. The rest of them moved past Rhen, who was bending his knees to shorten his stature.

  When he was a hand's length away from the now half-closed and abandoned gate, he stopped.

  It was a miracle.

  The gods were smiling on him today.

  All of the guards had left their station, distracted by the sailor, who now waved a dinged weapon in the air. All of the townspeople watched, hunger for justice in their eyes. The guards stood in a straight line, trying to intimidate even though their numbers were few.

  They were one breath away from a riot.

  "On my count," Rhen muttered, and Jin nodded in understanding.

  Rhen held out one finger.

  Two fingers.

  And then he moved, holding his breath as his foot stepped across the entrance of the bridge.

  No shouts.

  No clanking swords.

  No arrows.

  He looked down. The metal below his feet was a marvel. Sturdy and unlike anything he had seen before. Bridges were supposed to be made of stone, and even then surpassing a deep river was near impossible. But—he eyed the edge and looked down to the ocean deep below his feet, nestled between the rocks—this seemed held up by magic.

  Rhen glanced at Jin, comforted by the boy's wide, staring eyes. He was not the only one impressed by the scene.

  Farther over his shoulder, the sailor was sitting back down. The crowd started to disperse.

  "Run!" Rhen gasped as a guard started to spin.

  The two of them took off, not waiting to see if they were being followed.

  Their feet touched on solid rock once more, and Rhen shoved people to the side as he made his way through the winding roads, down and down, praying that the streets would soon level.

  Through a boxy building, he saw the sparkle of blue.

  "We're almost there," he shouted back, too excited to contain his enthusiasm. One more wide bend, and the ocean burst fully into view. The deep sapphire sent a wave of warmth into Rhen's chest that crashed against his heart, exploding down his limbs in a giddy burst. He felt like a child running from the castle guards, hiding from his father. It was a game.

  A game he had won.

  Pure adrenaline kept his legs pumping.

  The cloth fell from his head, slipping over his ears and free from his throat. But it didn’t matter. The docks were alive with men of Whylkin and Ourthuro—skin of every shade mingled and mixed, making Rhen and Jin just two more in a crowd of foreigners visiting the capital city.

  A laugh escaped his lips—freedom spilling through his system like a drug.

  But he wasn't safe yet.

  Not yet.

  Finally, when Rhen reached the edge of the docks, he stopped and scanned the ships for the flag of his kingdom.

  There.

  At the end of the row.
r />   A spot of red in a cloudless cobalt sky.

  The air shifted, bringing the design fully into view. Rhen grinned—he would recognize that rearing black stallion anywhere. In fact, it might be embroidered on his breastplate underneath the Ourthuri robe that now felt heavy in the salty air.

  Without wasting time, Rhen strode confidently forward, walking over the boards until he reached the base of the ship where a bridge already sat extended.

  "Hello!" He called, but didn’t wait for a response. Turning to look back toward land, he saw the golden garb of King Razzaq's guard shimmering in the distance.

  It was against protocol to board unannounced.

  But, Rhen smirked, breaking rules was one perk of being royal.

  He mounted the bridge and walked slowly on board.

  "Where is your captain?" Rhen asked, louder so his voice carried. This time, he was noticed—and not kindly.

  "Who's asking?" A sailor stepped forward, his skin wrinkled and hard from the days at sea, his nose upturned in disgust. Hostility prickled the air around him, almost tangible.

  Rhen looked over his shoulder. High on deck where he stood, the docks below were mostly out of view. He prayed no Ourthuri would see him now, as in one swoop of his arm, the foreign robe was whisked from his body and dropped into a pool on the floor. In its place rested the royal garb he had donned to see the king.

  Sure, it was ripped and bloodied, but that just made the whole scene more intimidating.

  "I am your prince," Rhen said, dripping with authority. He was in no mood for games. Now that he had stopped moving, the weary ache of loss taunted his bones. The threat of death was still heavy.

  The man's eyes widened, shocked, and he immediately dropped to his knees in respect, dipping his body far lower to the ground than was necessary. "My Lord," he blurted.

  Rhen rolled his eyes—now was not the time for overdone displays of loyalty. He walked closer to the man and leaned down to lay a palm on his tense shoulder. "It is no matter. Anyone would have made the same mistake. Your captain, please?"

  The man stood—a speck of gratitude in his crinkled eyes—and nodded. "Right this way, my Lord."

  As they walked down the length of the ship, crew members paused, staring with open mouths as Rhen walked by. Many men would go a lifetime with nothing more than a glimpse of their prince, but to have him aboard their ship—a merchant ship, not a war ship—that was something unheard of.

  They reached an open door and trotted down a few steep steps until they were completely below decks. Rhen's guide knocked on a closed door. A gruff "come in" sounded through the wood.

  The captain sat behind a desk, hunched over maps and charts with a bulbous glass pressed against his eye. His hat hung from a hook on the wall, black with one white plume. He was bald. His features were sharp, angular despite his age—an age where skin usually began to sag. He looked like a man who did not like to be bothered. A loose, open white shirt hung over his frame. And the only jewel Rhen saw was a ruby circled in gold that hung from one ear.

  After a minute, he looked up from his work, dropping the quill that had left small black stains on his fingers.

  "What..." He trailed off when his eyes came in focus, settling on Rhen and studying him for a moment, confused. "My Lord." He stood to present Rhen with a deep bow. "I am Captain Jelaric, and I am honored to have you on board the Skipping Stone."

  "I fear that will pass." Rhen sighed. "I am Prince Whylrhen, son of Whylfrick, and this," he motioned to Jin behind him, "is my traveling companion, Jin of the Arpapajo people. We arrived this morning on the Old Maid, a retired war ship led by Captain Pygott. While I was visiting with King Razzaq, my men and I were ambushed. Now Jin and I are the only two who remain. I must get back to Rayfort immediately. My father must hear of King Razzaq's treachery as soon as possible, and I am afraid that you are in possession of the only Whylkin ship currently in the harbor."

  The more Rhen spoke, the lower the captain's shoulders fell. His pupils clouded over, filled with worry, and he looked down quickly at the papers below him before returning to Rhen.

  "Da'astiku is being locked down by the king," Rhen continued, pressing on despite the slight twinge of guilt, "but I cannot be found. You must hide both of us and provide safe travel back to my home. Trust you will be handsomely rewarded for all of the trouble this will cause."

  The captain looked down at the papers on his desk, blinked once, and pushed them aside until only one remained. Rhen recognized the hills, the outline of the White Stone Sea, the circle allotting his home city.

  "It would be an honor to help a Son of Whyl," the man said. His deep voice hinted at no ill will, just pure loyalty—a true subject. Looking past Rhen, he asked, "Have they raised the black flag?"

  "Ay," the sailor who had led Rhen below decks said, nodding. Jin remained quiet, surveying the conversation.

  Captain Jelaric sighed and ran a hand through imaginary hair.

  "The black flag?" Rhen asked. Definitely didn’t sound very good.

  "When the Ourthuri raise the black flag, it means their harbor is on lock down—no ships in and no ships out. Normally, they believe the king has been cheated and run inspections to make sure no goods came into the city unannounced—no black market deals. But now, it likely means they are looking for..." He motioned forward, shrugged, "well, you, my Lord."

  "What will they do?" Rhen asked, brows furrowed. He refused to escape one trap just to be led into another.

  "My guess, Prince Whylrhen, is that they will be here any minute. If, as you say, we are the only Whylkin ship, they will want to come below decks, make sure you are not on board and then usher us out as quickly as possible." The captain grabbed his hat from the wall, squeezing it snuggly onto his head. He wore a red sash around his waist.

  Unexpectedly, the captain's entire body stopped, stuck with indecision mirrored in his halted breath. There were options being weighed in his head, different paths with different possible outcomes, until finally he looked at Rhen with an open, honest plea.

  He leaned forward, knuckles resting on the wood of his desk, and whispered, "Luckily, this is not just a trading ship."

  Rhen squinted, looking harder at the red ruby dangling from his ear, the lack of jewels, the multiple maps highlighting very unusual routes across the open ocean.

  He grinned.

  "You're a smuggler," he said.

  A twinkle lit the captain's eye—he had made the right choice in trusting his prince, a prince infamous for his own wayward ways.

  "I assure you, my Prince, that I follow the laws of our lands very precisely. But there are times..." His lips twitched. "Times like the current, when certain circumstances require a somewhat open interpretation of the rules."

  "I couldn't agree more," Rhen said, his voice full of mirth.

  "Then follow me, Son of Whyl, and I will return you to our great King Whylfrick as fast as the Skipping Stone is able."

  ––––––––

  13

  Jinji

  Da'astiku

  ––––––––

  Jinji blinked.

  But when her eyes opened, it was all the same.

  Darkness. Complete and total darkness.

  When the captain said he could hide them, she had had her doubts. But when he moved his desk a few inches to the side, revealing a trap door to a secret compartment, she relaxed.

  Now, shrouded in black with nothing but the echo of her breath against Rhen's, Jinji's hands were starting to clam. Her heart was starting to race. And her breath was starting to quicken.

  Closing her eyes did nothing to halt the fear, because even then all she saw was shadow. Unlike in dreams, where opening her eyes was all it took, here there was no escape.

  The hairs on the back of her neck stood, feeling the imaginary creep of invisible hands. The shadow was here. The nightmare. She could feel it around her, ensnaring her just at her moment of escape.

  And the only image that kept flas
hing in her mind was of Maniuk. Of his eyes—his clouded over, white eyes the moment before he took his own life.

  A shiver jetted down her back. Jinji bit her lip to keep from yelping.

  No, she thought, there is nothing. But try as she might to reason, to use logic, the darkness had invaded more than just her vision. It was haunting her, taunting her.

  "Jin?" Rhen's voice floated into her ear, a cool breeze. "Are you okay?"

  She nodded. Then remembered he could not see.

  "Yes." She forced the word out as quietly as possible, hoping the slight crack would not give her away.

  "Jin, can I ask..." Pause. She waited. "Can I ask what happened?"

  "We are supposed to be quiet," she whispered back, but hoped he would not listen. The words were helping ease her mind, were helping distract her from the darkness.

  "I know," he said. A hint of pain laced into the tone, just enough to make him sound like a child, to sound vulnerable. "I just..." He sighed. "Did Captain Pygott suffer? Can you tell me that much?"

  Jinji winced. That was not the question she expected, but her mind flashed to the soft blue eyes that had wished her farewell, the strong arms that had pushed her to freedom. "No," she said, a pang of loss tightened her heart. "No, it was over quickly. He raced down to your cabin to wake me and helped me escape just as the Ourthuri were breaking down the door. I believe they acted very swiftly, as they did with everyone else."

  A deep, shaky breath was her only response. In and out. In and out. Then a sniffle. Another breath. A deep swallow—the gulp was loud enough to hear.

  Jinji sat still, experiencing Rhen's pain with him, wishing she could help. But she knew better than most that there was very little anyone could do to mend a broken heart.

  Her fingers twitched, itching to reach across the small enclosure and wrap around his, but she remained still. Hand-holding was the comfort of a woman, of a—of something she wasn't.

  Men preferred their pain in solace and in silence. At least that was her experience. Her father had always grieved at night, when he thought the rest of the world was fast asleep and safely in the realm of their dreams, a place where they would not hear his cries.

  But Jinji heard.

  She always heard. Her heart ached alongside his, burning with the memory of her brother Janu, but she never reacted. Never stood from her sleeping pad to provide comfort. Because her father, like Rhen, needed to feel strong. Untouchable.