by Molly Ringle
Though barely well enough to sit up, Larkin took over the conversation and informed Sia Fia that they understood, appreciated her assistance, and must move on from her realm at first light, as soon as their strength had returned.
After failing to entice them to stay longer, Sia Fia invited them to return any time and dance once again. Larkin murmured, “Most kind of you. We shall not forget.”
Sia Fia made her regal exit, leaving a few fadas lounging at the doorway. Merrick pushed Larkin to move him over so they could share the bed. They lay there the rest of the night, recovering, nudging each other sometimes with reminders to stay awake and drink more water.
“This is your ‘phone,’ is it not?” Larkin said after a while. He draped an arm over himself, holding Merrick’s phone, which he had found somewhere among the bedding.
“Yeah. I better use a glimpse.” Merrick tapped the buttons that shot the reception through the atmospheric haze of the fae realm and seized his messages from everyday Eidolonia.
Ten texts from Cassidy. Five from Nye. A bunch of spam and other stuff over in email. The phone downloaded them all, but he would have to read them later; he wouldn’t have time both to read and respond in this single minute. The dates alone were horrifying enough, sprawling through the end of March, reaching the middle of April.
“It’s been … at least three weeks out there. Crap.”
“Blessed Lady,” Larkin mumbled.
Merrick picked the latest from Cassidy and opened it.
Cassidy: Researchers/witches still fighting back Ula Kana and her forces when they show. More roads and buildings down, a lot of cell towers too, not sure how long we’ll stay online. We’re all ok. Are you alive?? We’re so worried, please answer
Merrick tapped back as quick a response as he could.
Merrick: Yes so sorry slept longer than meant to, we’re ok, still going onward with plan, love to all
He sent it off and within two seconds the mobile connection symbol vanished. A window came up saying, This glimpse has expired. He tapped OK and moved back into his newly downloaded messages.
Larkin turned over to face him. The skin around his hazel eyes was wrinkling and shadowed. That and the three-day auburn beard aged him what looked like ten years. Merrick imagined he looked about the same himself, and considered the possibility that the change might be permanent, as in his father’s case. He would gladly accept that fate if they could succeed in their mission and get out alive.
“What news?” Larkin asked.
Merrick opened one message after another. “Ula Kana went back out into the human realm after a week or so, started hitting cities and roads again. More of the highway’s been smashed. And … oh, Lord. Tsunami out of nowhere in Port Baleia. Seven dead. Twelve missing. Witch volunteers and Researchers and other agencies are on guard all over the verge and have rebuffed attempted invasions, but Riquelme’s still saying horrible things, riling everyone up. The infrastructure’s getting hit too, pieces of the electric grid down, lots of internet and mobile network too, water sources polluted with enchantments … gods.” Too sick to keep reading, Merrick dropped the phone on his chest and shut his eyes.
He would never have touched Rosamund’s charms if he’d known what he was unleashing. It had been an accident, a grave mistake. But a mistake, he found, could feel no less terrible than a deliberate crime.
“Then we cannot give up,” Larkin said. “We must press on.” He sounded depressed rather than determined.
Electrolyte-laden drink packets they had brought, mixed into their water, helped them recover to the point that they could shift position without wanting to die. As dawn filtered into the sky, they dragged themselves to their waterfall to wash. They both certainly smelled like they hadn’t showered in three days, Merrick had noticed. The bath, the change of clothes, another dose of lucidity, and the reapplication of Mirage Isle deodorant boosted his sense of well-being enough to clear his head. Larkin still scowled, but was moving more steadily.
They packed their possessions and shuffled out of the idyllic rock clearing for what Merrick fervently hoped would be the last time in his life.
A pair of fadas zipped back and forth beside them, leading them to the banks of the steaming river. “The river flows through Arlanuk’s realm as well,” one said. “Follow it upstream. The pines, those are his lands.” Without staying to be thanked, the fadas tumbled away.
Larkin glanced at Merrick, who shrugged. “Entirely too uncomplicated,” Larkin said. “One wonders what the hidden traps shall be.”
They shuffled north through a forest of mimosa trees and prickly shrubs. The river burbled along. Hot springs cropped up in clearings, brightly tropical in color and stinking of eggs. Fae and animals were everywhere: an alf chasing fish in the water, monkeys swatting at fire sprites, a three-foot-long alligator mud-bathing with an orange drake perched on its back. Merrick and Larkin stared at the wonders as they passed, and the wonders stared back at them.
“This is still Sia Fia’s realm,” Merrick reminded the alligator and the drake. “We’re her guests.”
The drake extended its sheer wings. The alligator snorted out a bubble of mud.
“Perhaps the fae must respect that,” Larkin said, “but the animals, I think, do not.”
Merrick picked up a hefty stick to carry along, just in case.
The terrain ascended. They often had to clamber over boulders as they traveled upstream, and at midday they reached a place where the river emerged from a canyon. The view of the surrounding land had been hidden from them by the forest and now remained hidden by the canyon walls, layered rust-red and black, but Merrick knew from the map that they were climbing higher on the foot of Pitchstone Mountain.
At the mouth of the canyon they stopped and sat on a pair of flat rocks. They refilled their water and made a lunch of rehydrated pho, lukewarm and eaten out of its foil freeze-dry packets.
Larkin grimaced as he spooned up the soup.
“You seem depressed,” Merrick said.
“Why, yes, my spirits are quite low. Today I have, as a matter of fact, almost no hope whatsoever of our success.”
“What are you talking about? You said you were determined to do this. To beat Ula Kana.”
“And I shall hold to my word and keep trying, but look honestly at the situation, Highvalley. Each step on our path has cost us too dear already. In the swamp we lost Sal. In Sia Fia’s realm we nearly died. And these were not even meant to be the most difficult parts of our journey. Meanwhile, weeks are passing in our world and innocent people are being killed. This is a task beyond us. There’s only the slimmest chance we’ll survive and succeed. Thus I will likely die a failed hero, which I accept, but I trust I needn’t be delighted about it.”
“We knew it would be hard. And we haven’t died. We’ve learned; now we know to be more vigilant. We have all these tools—”
Larkin barked a laugh. “How much stake you put in those. How blinded you are by confidence. A few trinkets of witches against the immortal might of the fae? It’s a joke. And have you noted how low our supply of lucidity is becoming?” Larkin lifted the vial on its chain.
They had been dosing themselves with it often over the course of the day, to make sure of not falling under enchantment again.
“We still have at least half left,” Merrick said.
“Aye, and two-thirds of our journey left ahead of us. It bodes poorly, wouldn’t you agree?”
Merrick exhaled slowly, determined not to snap. He nodded toward Larkin’s bottle. “Drink your water. Everything looks worse when you don’t feel good.”
“The wicked, thoughtless creatures. To let us fall into that condition. And those are our allies.” Larkin drank the water.
Merrick’s head still ached and his legs felt rubbery. No way could he fly. Lady forbid he would have to.
He tipped the foil packet up and drank the rest of his pho, wistfully recalling the loveliness of that first night. Their tailored glamour-suits, t
he dance, the sparkling lights, the mimosa petals. The conversation about lovers. The kisses.
“At least the evening started nice,” he said.
Larkin scoffed. “That was not love.”
Stung, Merrick folded up his empty pho packet. “Fine. No one’s saying it was.”
“Oh yes, they do. Sia Fia’s realm, renowned for its worship of ‘love’—ha. Passion, lust, dissipation—all of those, yes, but never love. They don’t know the meaning of the word.”
“Lady’s sake, I only meant the dancing was nice. Not … whatever we did later that I can’t remember.”
Larkin rubbed at his eyes. “I doubt we did much, given we seemed to be asleep most of the time. I cannot recall either. Regardless, they’re horrid, to place us under such sway and then to watch for their amusement.”
Merrick understood his vitriol—magical compulsion had certainly hurt Larkin before. And Larkin must have honestly desired him, because the enchantments only brought out feelings that were already there; but the idea of the fae ogling them as they made out was off-putting.
Still, Merrick couldn’t put aside his anger. “The fae in general, then? You’re saying none of them are capable of love?”
“I doubt many are, from what I’ve seen.” When Merrick only huffed an offended breath, Larkin added, in a patronizing tone, “The way your mother treated your father: can you honestly call that love?”
Merrick had tried to cast it as love, countless times, in his own thoughts. It had been a stretch, he knew. Which only made him angrier. “Time and culture are different here. Maybe they do feel it, they just express it, or don’t express it, in different ways than we do.”
“Oh, yes. Very different. So different that one questions whether the same word even applies.”
Merrick simmered, counting five breaths, before asking, “Then where does that leave half-breeds like me?”
Larkin folded up his foil food packet and slipped it into his pack. “Who am I to say what you feel? But it does appear you have difficulty adhering to human rules from time to time, much as the fae do. Still, one hopes that living among humans, you can yet learn.”
“Well.” Merrick zipped up his pack and stood. “That may be the most condescending statement out of your mouth yet. Which is really saying something.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake, I’ve proven time and again that I trust you, and I do not class you among them. But this island confuses and distorts even the best of minds. That seems to be its entire purpose. And those of mixed blood must feel especially conflicted, not knowing where to fit in. Don’t you see the damage that’s been done in our experiment to handle magic and mix with the fae?”
“I stand corrected. That is the worst thing you’ve said so far. Sometimes you’re as bad as people like Riquelme, you know that?”
“Riquelme? How can you compare me to that deceitful, incompetent—”
“Because you’re prejudiced and antiquated and closed-minded. When we get out of here, I’ll have plenty of time to tell you why defining people by their ‘blood’ is offensive, but for now, how about you shut up and walk into Arlanuk’s realm with me and help me save the country.”
Larkin’s eyes looked ready to throw sparks. But he snapped his mouth shut, repacked his supplies, and rose without another word.
CHAPTER 33
MERRICK LED THE WAY INTO THE CANYON, not even looking behind to ensure Larkin was following. This suited Larkin well enough, who was too furious to speak.
To have fallen into magical unconsciousness again, this time nearly fatally, was bad enough. Then to have Merrick defend the creatures after what they had done, and to insult Larkin as if Larkin were the one to have caused offense—! Larkin would have turned straight round and marched back to the human world if he were not certain that in attempting to do so he would be killed—or worse, enchanted—before the day was out.
Very well, it was true what Merrick had said: the dancing had been pleasant. So had been the kissing, even with the fae as audience. In fact, had he and Merrick awoken safely the next morning, rather than two and a half days later in pain, Larkin might not have minded the path the evening had taken. Those feelings, he knew, were no result of enchantment. The magic in the fire-heated air in Sia Fia’s realm only enlarged them and shrank all other considerations.
Now that Larkin could once again see those other considerations, however, not to mention the infuriating flaws of his companion, he felt little inclination to be tender toward Merrick. Especially when every step required to clamber over the rocks of the riverbank rattled his aching skull and made him hate this mission with intensity.
Some half-hour later, after edging round a boulder on a narrow ledge, Merrick stopped. Larkin, gripping the boulder so as not to fall into the rapids, reached the flat rock on the other side and stopped too. They both stared at the giant patch of fur covering the ground some three feet away.
“Woodstrider?” Merrick said.
“Aye. It must be.”
Nothing else could have been so large. Its bare feet, gray-skinned, lay nearest to them, each as long as a man’s shin. All its fur was gray, tipped with brown, save for a patch of white circling its left ankle. The whole animal, though it was hard to gauge its height when prone like that, must have been half again as tall as the average human.
“Is it dead?” Merrick asked.
Larkin crept forward, knelt, and laid his palm on its calf.
“Don’t touch it!” Merrick hissed.
Larkin ignored him, using the lightest touch of magic to feel what he could. The creature didn’t move, but a warmth of its aura spread up in response. “It is alive,” Larkin said, “though I think in much the same weak condition we were last night.” He withdrew his hand. “Perhaps from the same cause.”
“The fadas did say woodstriders died under their spells too. You’d think local animals would know not to party with the fae.”
“Anything not fae may fall under enchantment now and then.” Larkin moved higher up, waddling in his crouch, until he was near the woodstrider’s head. Spying a dark spot of blood on the fur of its neck, he moved the hairs there to view its skin. “It might not have been the fadas. It’s been bitten. By what, I’m not certain. No end of possible culprits here.”
He rested his fingers on the animal’s neck and closed his eyes. The use of magic drained him faster than usual, bringing back his nausea. He breathed evenly to steady himself, then gave the animal another boost of healing until the bite wounds closed over and mended. The woodstrider twitched and emitted a grumble so low it seemed to make the rocks vibrate.
“Okay, stop.” Merrick sounded alarmed. “You helped. Now stop.”
“Would you be quiet.” Larkin tipped his water bottle over the woodstrider’s mouth, splashing water between its leathery lips.
The woodstrider drew up a hand, big enough to crush Larkin’s skull, and took hold of the bottle. After draining all the water, it released its hold and fell limp.
Larkin took the bottle and rose to his feet.
The animal groaned again, then heaved itself to hands and knees, becoming a huge fur-covered table. Larkin and Merrick moved back a few more steps. Larkin doubted he had the strength left to subdue it if need be, but perhaps he could calm it for a few seconds so they could run …
The woodstrider staggered to her feet—a female, they could see from her anatomy—and stood with head bowed, breathing in deep, heavy snorts.
“There,” Larkin said carefully. “You’re free to go home.”
She turned and stared at them, her face at least two feet above Larkin’s. There was no reason she should understand English or any other human language—unlike the fae, who could understand and make themselves understood effortlessly, if they wished—but Larkin hoped she might read his tone of voice and recognize him as friend rather than foe.
She had a hairless face surrounded by fur, with broad nose, heavy brow, and brown eyes. Her mouth was shut, and he did not think he wanted to
see her teeth any more closely. In giving her water, he had glimpsed some particularly large and pointed ones.
She growled and leaped onto the boulder next to Merrick. Merrick stumbled aside. Woodstrider and men stared at each other a few seconds more. Then she jumped down the far side of the boulder and fled, making only a few light scraping sounds on the rocks as she disappeared.
Larkin leaned against the rock and wiped his brow.
“Why did you bother?” Merrick sounded annoyed. “You barely had the energy to spare.”
“Someday, when we’re back at home, I shall have time to explain to you why it’s kind to save living creatures when one can, as I’m sure you don’t understand the concept.” Larkin began walking along the river.
“I understand.” Merrick followed. “But if I have to carry you because you’re exhausted later, I’m going to be mad, that’s all.”
Larkin chose not to answer.
The canyon echoed sounds strangely, from the river’s gurgles to their footsteps to the cries of birds and monkeys, and Larkin sometimes thought he heard other steps shifting the rocks behind them. He turned, but never saw anything beyond Merrick’s scowl and the endlessly twisting rock walls. It gave him a peculiar haunted feeling. Many fae could be invisible if they chose, so who was to say what might be stalking them? He shivered, sprayed himself with more lucidity, and kept on.
Midday had passed some hours ago. The sun still shone between puffy clouds, but from a lower angle now, its light more orange than white.
Larkin squinted at the clouds. “It seems doubtful we can gain Arlanuk’s hospitality, such as it is, before nightfall.”
“We might. Stop being such a pessimist.” Merrick said this in such a cross voice that the irony might have been amusing in less sinister circumstances.
“This is still Sia Fia’s realm, I would guess, or at least not Arlanuk’s. Those are the same trees as ever, not pines.” Larkin nodded toward the turquoise and silver trees fluttering on the clifftops.
