Jamyria: The Entering (The Jamyria Series Book 1)

by Madeline Meekins

  Deep down, Margo knows there’s no way he can promise that, but she isn’t going to make that argument again. She also hadn’t realized how many people are betting against her and treating her death like an inevitability. She wonders about the Queen, too. Is she already aware the New Mark is in Jamyria? There’s no way to be sure they aren’t already being tracked.

  “Do you think those guys — the, uh, Queen’s Crew — were looking specifically for me?”

  Cameron shrugs. “Possibly. They make routine rounds now and again. Either way, it’s a good thing we left when we did.”

  “They were scary. I understand why this Queen is so feared. Her Crew looks…ruthless.”

  Faux’s pace quickens, snaking through the web of trees like a slinky fox.

  “Those men aren’t the ones to worry about,” says Cameron. “Technically, they’re part of her Crew, but they’re just Intimidators. They’re trained to look tough, but not nearly as scary as her Guard. You see,” he says as they duck under a low-hanging vine. “The Crew is broken up into four categories. There are the Servants, who are basically bottom feeders given a mere hint of the Queen’s mark. Next are the Intimidators, like the ones you saw yesterday. They are still low-ranked Crewmen who look tough but are pretty much useless. In other words, they only put up a good front. Then, there are her Guards, the fighters. Trust me when I tell you, don’t ever find yourself in a situation with the Queen’s Guards. You’ll wind up dead.”

  “Fighters…” she repeats. The word reminds her of Cameron’s promise to Nick and realizes these are the men Janie is worried she’ll face. “And the fourth category? Is there someone worse than that?”

  “Yeah, the remaining two Nobles.” They’re suddenly interrupted by a noise in the distance: the gentle caress of waves. “Did you hear that?”

  “Yes, is it coming from ahead?”

  He doesn’t answer at first. “I don’t remember any water around here. There’s a stream along the way, but we’re nowhere near that yet.”

  Margo doesn’t understand his worried tone. Personally, she couldn’t care less where the water came from. She just wants to take a dip; her entire body is plastered in filth, a combination of sweat and grime.

  A sudden jolt nearly causes them to topple over as Faux stops in her tracks. She suddenly rears up on her hind legs. Margo’s arms tighten around Cameron who struggles to stay on himself. Faux drops her front feet down and howls, whipping her long neck back and forth.

  “Whoa, Faux!” Cameron shouts. “Calm down, girl, calm down.” He pulls on her reins guiding her backwards on the trail.

  “Is she alright?” The animal’s chest quivers underneath them.

  He ignores Margo’s question. “No, no, no! We couldn’t have gotten that far off course!” He kicks his leg over, drops to the ground, and leaves Margo alone. He runs ahead on the trail, still muttering to himself.

  “Off course?”

  He doesn’t look back as he stomps through the underbrush, leaving Margo with the shika, and disappears into the dark woods ahead. She quickly slides down Faux as best she can without his help. “Stay, girl,” she says patting her nose before taking off behind Cameron.

  Further into the forest, the ambiance changes from the limes and bright colors into dark, eldritch shades, as if the woods have grown seasick. The plants have grown thicker and somehow wilder; she has to peel apart the layers to pass through. The sound of water is stronger, and she spots Cameron standing in the dark woods with his back to Margo staring at something ahead. The forest is dark and casting a bluish hue over them.

  “I know this land…” He shakes his head, hardly acknowledging her presence. “How could I make a mistake that big?”

  “Cameron,” she says gently, not wanting to upset him. She inches her way closer to him. “What is it? Can I come?”

  “It’s not going to make much difference,” he snorts.

  She walks through an arc of shrubbery, trying to decipher whatever it is he’s staring at. It’s impossible to see anything in this ever-changing forest. Even though it has grown darker, the woods are still quite vivid and teeming with life. They’re surrounded in jewel tones — emerald trees with sapphire shadows bouncing around them. More like the evening of Jamyria. But what stopped both Cameron and Faux in their tracks?

  The answer suddenly slaps Margo in the face. It blends so perfectly into the trees; she hadn’t recognized what looks like a sheet of turquoise silk billowing in the wind between the trees. But after a moment, she sees it is something more: a wall stretching as far as she can see in either direction made entirely of water. Not a wall holding back water, a wall comprised of water. It moves in the wind as if they’re looking at the surface of a lake, but it somehow holds itself above the ground.

  “The Water Forest,” Cameron sighs.

  Eyes wide and wonder-filled, Margo steps closer to have a better look at it. Filtered light dances around them. Once she looks past their reflections, she can see through the edge of the water and realizes that it is a forest. The same trees of the woods grow inside as if the water was placed here, interrupting the forest’s natural setting. Plants grow on the muddy ground, algae and seaweeds rather than the shrubs and vines growing on the outside. Trees are covered in black slime. It’s also much deeper than she realized. She can only see about thirty feet in until the trees inside it disappeared into darkness. The odd Jamyrian lighting affects the water as well. Even though it’s dark and casting unearthly shadows, the water nearest them is a brilliant sea green.

  Speechless, Margo can only stare, not believing what’s before them. It challenges all of the basic laws of nature: gravity should be pulling this down and liquids cannot hold their own form. It simply cannot exist.

  “The way,” Cameron says rubbing his temple with one hand. “Is through there.” The frustration is building up, Margo can tell. He’s going to break. “This isn’t supposed to be here! It’s not right!” He kicks a tree stump, his face growing red.

  “Cameron, there’s all that algae and stuff in there. This didn’t just show up here today.”

  “I know.”

  “Then, we’re lost?”

  “No!” he snaps.

  Margo crosses her arms and raises a warning eyebrow.

  After a deep cleansing breath, he calmly says, “Something’s just wrong. I need a moment to clear my head…to try to figure this out. For now, we should head back to Faux. Shikas don’t do so well around the Water Forest.”

  “It’s like a huge painting,” Margo speaks quietly. She wants to take in as much as she possibly can before they have to leave it.

  “It is beautiful,” he says. “But dangerous.”

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Cameron complains for about the hundredth time in the past hour. “We were headed in the right direction. So where’d it come from?”

  Margo has long stopped trying to answer his questions. She tightens her bag, which is now full of a half dozen citroseas, and hands it off to him. “Doesn’t matter, does it? The fact is it’s here. Now we have to get around it.”

  Cameron grunts in response and pulls strap over his shoulder. “This is nice,” he comments, checking out the stitching on her bag once it’s situated on his hip.

  “Thanks. Owen gave it to me.”

  “Owen? Don’t you mean ‘Dad’?”

  “A lot’s changed,” Margo says so bitterly Cameron doesn’t ask for elaboration.

  Faux makes a whining noise. She’s finally calmed down, curling up under a nearby tree, but still seems anxious.

  “Keep an eye on her while I’m out. They really hate the Water Forest.” Cameron kisses the top of Margo’s forehead and promises he’ll be back with a solid plan for navigating around this Water Forest. Margo watches him until he disappears into the trees.

  She isn’t happy with the idea of being left behind, but after seeing how scared Faux was around the water, they decided it’s best if one of them watches after her. Cameron was afraid she would untethe
r herself and abandon them if they both ventured off for too long. And since he’s already familiar with the forest, naturally he’s the one to leave.

  Margo slumps down on the ground, leaning on Faux’s side for support and preparing herself for a long afternoon.

  Margo awakes with a glob of drool spilling over her bottom lip. She stirs, wiping her face dry, expecting to find Cameron watching over her. But she’s still alone with Faux, whom has also dozed off. Imagining how far Cameron is by now, Margo had an errant thought about how convenient shadow-travel would be. She wonders why they are so fearful.

  It’s stupid sitting with a sleeping farm animal, she decides. A few tight knots of rope around Faux’s reins and the nearby tree, and Margo is stomping through the woods back toward the Water Forest.

  Margo tries again to imagine how a world of such beauty and mystery can be the result of someone considered evil. First the dreamy night sky full of dancing stars, and now this spectacular living painting!

  She nestles into a soft patch of soil and watches the wall of water dance before her. Inhaling deeply, she releases the tension of a second day of shika-back riding and imagines a cool dip in the pool. A smile plays at her lips, which surprises her since Cameron, the only reason she’s smiled lately, is nowhere near.

  She always did love the sea. And it most likely is a sea. There is a familiar crispness to the wind with the sharp scent of salt. With eyes closed, she can picture the sounds of laughing children running across the sands or a flock of seagulls overhead. There’s no doubt in Margo’s mind: this is a wild ocean that has claimed the land.

  But why is it here? Did the Queen purposefully create it out of curiosity’s sake? In a world where an entire city exists sunken in the earth, this is somewhat ironic.

  Just what are you getting out of this, Queen? She lets out an exaggerated groan, falling back onto her elbows.

  A tree inside the Water Forest becomes exposed when the wall of water quivers against the growing breeze. Blackened in algae and covered in dozens of snails that retreat to the safety of their shells, the tree’s branches shake wetly in the open air. After nearly a minute of freedom, the wind slowly calms, and the water swallows the tree whole once again.

  Eerie, but spectacular, she thinks.

  Margo looks skyward and an icy chill slides down her back. The water is much higher than she realized. She can barely make out the tops of the already oversized Jamyrian trees that jut out over the surface.

  Scrambling to her feet, she snaps back into reality. Sure it’s alluring, but hadn’t Cameron warned her of this place? ‘It is beautiful. But it’s dangerous,’ he said.

  Margo isn’t fully certain as to what he meant by that, but decides to heed his advice. She’s stared into its beautiful depths for long enough.

  Turning to head back to Faux, she pushes aside the curtain of vines, and looks over her shoulder one last time. Something deep in the waters catches her eye: a small orange shape floating serenely in the current, like a scarf carried away in the wind.

  It’s clearly out of place in the waters. She peers around her reflection, expecting to find a vibrant fish or jellyfish. The orange color is the only thing that stood out at first against the dark backdrop of turquoise, but now Margo can make out a pale face emerging from the shadows of the trees. Her dress billows out around her form like a parachute, orange hair spread like a fan. She suddenly begins kicking violently and waving her arms at Margo. Not swimming. Drowning.

  Margo crosses the distance as fast as she can. The girl thrashes beyond the water’s edge at about eye level now. “Help,” she mouths. Margo can barely hear the muffling of the actual word. Air bubbles escape during her fight with the water. The girl presses her hand against the surface to break through, but it merely slips away causing the wall to ripple outward from the disturbance. “Help!”

  “Cameron!” Margo calls in a panic. His name is more of a wail than a shout. “Cameron, help!”

  But there is no answer. Margo knows he’s too far to hear her. She doesn’t know what she to do without him. The girl is dying.

  “Please,” the girl begs silently. The bubbles coming out of her nose come to a slow, trickling stop. She holds out her hand, fingers splayed and straining in effort, desperately needing Margo to take her hand. She presses her cheek against the surface of the water, eyes pleading. “Help.”

  “Cameron!” Still no response. He cannot hear her. He isn’t coming.

  The girl’s eyes shut, and her head begins to roll back.

  “No!” Every muscle tightens as Margo fights the urge to reach in and pull the girl out, but she isn’t sure what will happen if she touches the water. Will it hold up? Or will disturbing the surface cause it to fall through the breaking point? Maybe it won’t make any difference at all like when the girl grazed it; though, that blackened tree escaped earlier....

  Margo can’t stand back and watch her die. After all, her job here is to save people, not witness their deaths.

  The girl stills, her outstretched hand relaxes, letting the water pull her where it wishes. Hair spreads around her face like a matting of cobwebs as the current slowly raises her body up into the trees. Her hand floats limply, still extended toward Margo, barely in reach as she drifts upward.

  Margo’s eyes don’t leave it. She’ll soon be too far...

  Adrenaline rushes through her veins and she plunges her hand through the water, which surprisingly feels no different than the velvety surface of a bath. Deeper and deeper Margo stretches trying to reach the girl’s hand, and, when the water is about halfway between her elbow and neck, she grasps the girl’s wrist and feels needles run down her spine. Her heart skips a beat.

  Everything suddenly feels wrong. The girl’s skin is as soft as boiled mushrooms oozing beneath her grip.

  Margo jumps. Her hand twitches away, and a pair of black eyes snapped open, no longer pleading for help. Instead they’re hidden behind the shadows of her brow, lips curled over her teeth in a hate-filled snarl.

  Margo reels her arm away, but the girl’s quick movements snatches it back.

  “CAMERON!” she screams, making her cry earlier sound like a whisper. “HELP!”

  She feels the pull against her arm. It is effortless for the girl, even through the resistance of the water. Her nails dig into Margo’s skin, piercing through it, her eyes alight. Margo futilely braces her feet on the ground. She skids closer inch by inch, getting dragged further into the water.

  “Margo?” The faint call is too far off.

  “Cameron!” she screams, voice straining. “HELP ME!”

  Her footing slips and the water rushes up to her shoulder.

  Cameron runs suddenly around the bend of water, more than a hundred yards away with an expression as if he’s just witnessed the dead. “MARGO!” He darts in her direction, but he’s too far. He won’t make it.

  “Cam—” her voice gurgles as the water slaps her cheek. A wicked smile spreads across the girl’s face, revealing a set of perfectly pointed teeth, as she easily draws the rest of Margo in, a swirl of bubbles swallowing her up.

  Margo stands in front of the girl as if she’d simply taken a step forward. Only she’s stepped into an ocean. Five trails of red seep from Margo’s arm where the girl still digs her fingernails in her grip. The look on her face says she’s pleased; though, Margo isn’t sure why she was taken in. Was it to die? Without a word, the girl releases her from her clutch and silently swims into the shadows of the trees.

  Margo spins back to look out at Cameron. She can see him yelling her name; even hear it a little through the water. “Swim up! Swim up!” he’s shouting while pointing to the sky and jumping.

  She pushes her hand on the surface, but it’s like trying to claw her way through a sheet of flexible plastic. There must have been some kind of one-way invisible barrier.

  “Swim up!” he keeps yelling, but Margo isn’t sure if she can make it that far. The pressure this deep wears her down; she has to be at least two h
undred feet under. To swim against it is impossible, not to mention she hadn’t gotten a good breath of air. She won’t last long.

  Kicking and pulling her arms, Margo swims toward the surface, ignoring the salty sting of the cuts in her arm. There’s a sudden jerk on her ankle. She screams at the touch, wasting more oxygen.

  Eyes black with fury and hair spread around her face like a flame, the girl glares at Margo with pointed teeth bared. The grip on her ankle tightens, pulling her to a halt. Margo kicks at the girl’s face with her free foot.

  The world suddenly shifts. She kicks harder, reaching out toward the edge of the water as it grows further away. Deeper into the trees and away from Cameron, the girl pulls Margo who bends to pry away her fingers. The girl only squeezes tighter until Margo’s calf threatens to split. She kicks again, but it’s no use.

  Her nose burns for air. Her rhythmic kicking slows as her leg grows heavy, the energy dissipating. Her arms float to her sides as she loses control. Pressure builds between her eyes. There is nothing left.

  Should I just give in? she thinks wryly. There’s no need to keep fighting when she’s clearly no match against this girl. She shuts her eyes, feeling the sting from the salt under her lids. Hot tears disappear into the sea.

  The grip loosens allowing Margo’s leg to slide free as the current takes her deeper into the unknown forest. Bubbles trickle across her still face as the last few seep from her nostrils and up through her hair. Then there are no more.

  She takes a breath. It’s like inhaling bleach, not water. Like sniffing tiny shards of glass. It burns up the bridge of her nose and on through the sides of her face. This is torture.

  Only she hasn’t died yet.

  Waiting for the end brings back a whirl of the declarations she’s made these past few days. She fooled no one. Even Cameron admitted he expected the New Mark to die. She at least hoped to have died in some heroic fashion. Not before she even tried.