Ash Eater

by Emerson, Joanna

  My heart races with thoughts about where I must go. “What is this forest like?”

  She hands me the sheath, a plain lather scabbard, and then the sword. “None of us faerie folk like this forest. You’ll need this. Don’t lose it.”

  That offers no comfort. But it sure feels good to wear a sword at my belt. No remarks about how I’m a girl. No lectures about how I shouldn’t have a weapon. Simply a sword on my belt.

  Still, I don’t know how to use it.

  At least I’m given a chance to try.

  “You knew my name already, so you probably know I can’t use a sword.” I stare at my scuffed shoes.

  “You will learn.”

  “Oh.” I sit on the bed and look at this strange reflection of the girl in the mirror. Me. How am I going to learn? Maybe Jewel will teach me before I have to leave.

  “I know how to grow things and how to keep house. I don’t know how to make war. I would go with you into the forest, except I cannot survive in this forest, not even for a few minutes. Perhaps Selah at the next cottage knows how to use a sword.”

  “Is that the house beyond the forest?”

  She nods. “Follow the path. You will get to the other side of the forest before twilight if you don’t allow anything to distract you and you don’t stray from the path.”

  “Is there no other way to this cottage? I…I don’t really like forests.”

  “I know you don’t.”

  “Then can I stay here?”

  She looks away, disappointment crossing her face, and something like terror shows in her eyes. “The forest will find you if you stay here, Miya. It will close out the sunlight and choke the house, me, and these hills if it comes close.”

  “That would take years, wouldn’t it?”

  Her eyes grew as wide as a pancake. “Hours, not years.”

  “But forests can’t move. Can they?”

  “This one can, and quite fast. But only if you stay here.”

  In this world, a lamb speaks, and so does a woman who looks like a walking willow tree. Should I be surprised by other walking trees? “I don’t understand why it must be me. Is this some sort of punishment?”

  “There are some battles you must face.” She glanced out the window to the east and then the other to the south. Her eyes darted around the room. “Keep your sword near you.”

  I look out the window, past the garden, onto the hills of lush green grass. “Has…has the forest ever surrounded the cottage before?”

  She shivers as if the memory haunts her. “Many years ago, before you were born, a boy came here and refused to leave. He threw tantrums. The trees and creatures of the forest drew so close they almost devoured the house in pursuit of him. My friends spent the better part of twenty-five years beating the forest back to the place where the path begins.”

  Fear and guilt twine around my heart so fiercely, I don’t know which one will strangle me first. “If the creatures of the forest are after me, I should leave right away.”

  “Yes, they are drawn to you, but let me fix your hair before you go.”

  She picks up a brush from the bedside table and gently removes the dreads and tangles from my hair.

  If only she could remove the dread and tangles from my heart. “Why are the creatures drawn to me?”

  “It’s the Forest of Deception. It feeds on lies. The creatures search for those who will feed them.”

  “I don’t lie much. Do I?”

  I know the answer to that question even before her hazel eyes gaze into mine. I lie about Mom and Abbie, about boys, about smoking and even how much I smoke. Thinking about it makes me want a cigarette. I feel so ashamed.

  As soon as Jewel pauses her brushing, I sink down onto the bed. “I don’t even know where to go anyway. I have no idea where this place is or how I got here.”

  “You’ve been to Raphinea before, have you not?”

  “What’s Raphinea?”

  She waved her arms in a circle. “This whole place. The world.”

  “Only when…when my daydreams weren’t induced by seizures. And sometimes when they were. I’m from earth.”

  “Oh. I was there a few times. Maybe you stumbled upon thin places between the worlds. The lamb told me to watch for you, so I had assumed…well, welcome. It’s not all as beautiful as these hills or as dangerous as the Forest of Deception.”

  “When I woke up here, it was so beautiful and green I was sure I’d be safe for once. It seems like I’m not safe anywhere.” I recline on the bed and curl into a fetal position.

  Jewel sits beside me and continues to brush my hair. “You won’t be safe if you constantly run away from your problems.”

  “I thought I had started to tell the truth.”

  “You have. That belt wouldn’t fit you if you constantly deceived. The seed of truth in is your heart. It’s small, but it’s there. It takes courage to tell the truth. And it takes courage to face the lies.”

  I stay quiet as she finishes brushing and quickly weaves a braid into one side of my hair. Her words perplex me. My response sticks in my throat. I’m a coward. Why would she think I have the courage to face my lies?

  “Sit up,” she commands.

  I comply. That’s me, always doing what someone commands me to do.

  She finishes brushing and braiding the other side of my hair and sets the brush on the end table.

  “I don’t know why you think I can do this,” I declare. “I’m a coward. I always have been.”

  “Hush, child!” Her trembling fingers touch my back. “You must stop telling lies about yourself. You’ll have to take food with you. There’s no time to eat here. If twilight closes in on you while you are in the forest, you never get out.”

  Fear clamps a hold on my belly I’m too scared to go into any forest, I can’t imagine one that chases me then tries to keep me from leaving. “Why not?”

  “Twilight is a lie’s most dangerous hour. Dark of night lies are too obvious in the light of day, but in twilight, the creatures’ lies are mixed with just enough truth.”

  “Is that why I’ve always feared twilight more than anything else?”

  “Fear will cripple you in there, Miya. You must not allow fear space to breathe inside you.”

  But I’m already trembling. “What do I do?”

  “You must walk straight through the path, among the trees and the creatures.”

  “And no one will come with me?”

  “I can accompany you as far as the gate,” Jewel offers. “Beyond the gate my tree form is stronger and the Forest of Deception will kill me. Please hurry! The roots of your pursuers pound this way!”

  My heart beats so loudly in my ears that I can’t hear what she’s referring to. Then I feel it through the ground. The shaking begins to rattle the brush that sits on the end table.

  “Remember,” Jewel says as she walks me toward the front door, “lies grow in power when they’re believed. When they’re confronted, they cower.” She grips the door handle and pauses, planting a kiss on my forehead. “Truth requires great humility.”

  She opens the door and already I see a great greenish gray mass rising over the ridge of the hill.

  I want to believe that rumble under my feet is my imagination, but it’s not. “What is that?”

  “The trees!” She hastily picks some fruit from the garden and shoves it into a pouch at my side.

  I rush through the gate, then turn around hoping Jewel will be able to follow me.

  She stands at the open gate, her frown making her look tree-ish again. “You’ve turned too much to the east. You need to go south to find the path.”

  That’s where the rumble is strongest and the line of trees thickest. “I—I—really? That way?”

  “You must hurry!”

  “Do I have to go alone?”

  Jewel shakes her head. “I can’t fight this battle for you. But I hope to see you again at the far end.”

  “Okay.” My lips and limbs tremble.

/>   “Run straight south.”

  I point. “This way?”

  “Yes. Don’t turn. Through the trees you’ll see where the path starts. The stones are all the colors of the rainbow so you should be able to see them rising from the forest floor. But you must run! Run as fast as you can!”

  My heart is blighted and withered like grass…

  ~ Psalm 102:4

  Chapter 17

  Forest of Deception

  Casting one more glance at Jewel, I wave. All my fears of abandonment are swallowed up by the need to protect her from this forest, even if I don’t understand.

  If there’s one good thing about all those bullies from school, they’ve taught me how to run. So I run with all my might. This time, instead of running away from danger, I run straight toward it as fast as I can.

  Green grass blurs beneath my feet as I sprint over it. Ahead of me, the trees close in, gobbling the ground with their odd, root-legs.

  My legs grow rigid. I can’t let fear overwhelm me now or I’ll never find the path. I grit my teeth. Stabbing pains fill my lungs. I don’t usually run this fast. I have to keep moving or these trees will churn me up too.

  The trees slow their pace and crowd around me. Their branches point toward me as if in challenge.

  I take my sword from its leather sheath and hold it up. “Just leave her alone! She never did anything to you! And neither did I!”

  I step gingerly over and past roots, making my way south as best as I can judge.

  The trees have stopped all together. Their branches still stab toward me, but they’ve stopped moving.

  The air is still. Frighteningly still. Like the house at Silver Meadows. Oppressive and haunted.

  Now that the trees no longer move, other noises manifest.

  A screech. A bark. A howl. A strange buzz and tsit.

  There’s no way I want to be stuck in here at night. Picking my way carefully past trees, I see colorful stones in the midst of a line of pale gray trunks. My path! I bound toward it.

  My foot catches a root. I could have sworn I cleared it, but my body sprawls across the ground, over churned grass, dirt and tree roots. My sword clatters against a root.

  Scraped and bloodied, I stand, dusting myself off. A tree root coils around my sword. I reach for the sword, snatching it before the root closes completely around it.

  “What did I do to you?” I scream up at the tree. “Huh? What did I do?”

  The branches scrape together. An ugly sound.

  “If you don’t answer in a way I can understand, then leave me alone!”

  The trees move closer together, churning up the dirt around me.

  I can’t see the colored stones anymore. I can’t see anything but tree trunks and branches poking toward me.

  “Stop! I never did anything to you!”

  The roots close in. I pick up my feet, bouncing over and around the roots like I’m playing double Dutch.

  “Help!” But who will help me? These trees? The creatures screeching or barking or howling? But I’ll never get out without help.

  Maybe the lamb?

  Surely a lamb would never climb through this tangle of trees.

  Through the last opening between the trees I see a streak of white. The lamb! I jump through the gap and dash after it.

  But now that I’m free it’s gone. Maybe I didn’t see it at all. Or maybe I did, because there are hoof prints on the ground, all the way to the stone path. Not far now!

  The first stone is red, followed by orange, then yellow—all the colors of the rainbow. I skip from stone to stone. Still no sign of the lamb.

  But the screeches and howls crowd around. The tsit rushes past my ears; I can’t see anything. The howls and screeches are so loud I want to cover my ears.

  A gray and reddish creature streaks across my path. By the look of the bushy tail and pointed ears, it might be a fox. I stifle a scream behind a hand. My other hand grips the sword hilt.

  The creature turns its face toward me. Instead of a long pointed nose, the face is pale gray and flat, like an unglazed clay theater mask. The eyes are simply black holes. The nose is flat and there are two small holes for nostrils. The mouth has no lips, just teeth. Long, sharp teeth.

  I scream and stumble backwards, tripping over the path. I hold the sword out, hoping the creature won’t cross the distance to get me. Will it eat me? Or will it just chew my leg off and leave me there for its next meal?

  The creature barks and growls, bubbly foam gathering around the lip-less teeth. Great. It’s rabid. But are those tears falling from its eyes?

  A screech overhead stops both this creepy foxlike creature and me. An eagle? But its face has human features. Another swoops down, aiming at me. I scream and duck, slashing the air over my head with the sword. The sword makes no contact, but I fall farther on my back. Looking up, I see the face of this bird. The face is like a woman’s face except for the horrible beak-like mouth. A tangled mass of hair frames her face. A harpy. Her hair flies back as she swerves and dives toward the fox-thing.

  The fox howls and tears off into the forest. This time, when I see its bushy tail, it looks more like nine tails than one.

  I turn my face up to thank the hideous harpy for saving my life from the fox when she swoops toward my face once more.

  I scream, swatting the air with my sword, scrambling to my feet.

  The other harpy swoops toward my head, talons extended. I bound from stone to stone, swinging my sword around to keep these creatures away from me.

  The faster I run, the louder the tsit buzzes in my ears. I swat beside my ears with my free hand. I hit something not much bigger than my palm.

  A high-pitched scream rents the air. I stop, panting.

  The harpies have flown on. I don’t even see them through the trees. But I hear the little scream on the path behind me.

  “I didn’t even do anything to you!” the high-pitched voice screams.

  I search around the stones until I find what made the noise.

  It’s small and looks like a faerie: delicate wings, tiny, perfectly proportioned body, leaves and petals for clothing.

  I return the sword to its sheath and lift the delicate creature in both hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. The harpies and that foxlike thing—”

  “You mean the kitsune?” she says.

  “What’s a kitsune?”

  “Your worst nightmare.”

  The way she hisses this scares me so much I almost drop her.

  “You’re so clumsy!” she screams at me.

  “I’m—I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re never sorry, are you?”

  “I—I—Is that fair?”

  “Only as fair as you are.”

  I have half a mind to leave this creature where I found her. But pity wins out. “Are you okay?”

  “Of course not! You hurt me, you swine of a human child.”

  “Now who’s not fair?”

  The faerie-like creature sits cross-legged on the palm of my hand, crosses her arms and turns her face away. She’s so pretty, but not when she sulks. And not when she calls me names.

  “Where would you like me to bring you, little faerie?” I ask.

  “I’m not a faerie, you imbecile! Don’t let that disgusting word pass your lips again, swine!”

  I resist the urge to clap my hands together. “What are you then?”

  “I’m a brownie, far more beautiful than a faerie, and more powerful. Now take me that way.” She points west.

  “I can’t leave the path,” I confess.

  “Why? Because you’re a coward?”

  As soon as she says this, my head is swarmed by dozens of these brownies. They all chant a single word at me. “Coward! Coward! Coward!”

  “Stop!” I yell. “I know I’m a coward already!”

  Their chanting gets louder. The trees begin to draw close.

  The brownie I swatted flies in front of my face. Her pretty features distort as
she chants, “Coward!” at me.

  I throw my hands over my ears and run down the path. A dozen pin pricks sting the back of my neck. I slap at my neck with my hand. Tiny needles poke me. They shot these at me! I turn to glean the reason.

  All the brownies hover around me. They have expressions of abject glee across their faces.

  Ugh. My head feels funny. Dizzy. The trees blur. Spin.

  The brownie I saved puts a tube to her lips. A second later another pinprick stings me, this one in my chest. I grab hold of the needle and pull it out. My knees give way, then my feet. Umph! My body hits the forest floor.

  For I know my transgressions,

  and my sin is always before me.

  ~ Psalm 51:3

  Chapter 18

  Twilight’s Power

  “You can’t tell anyone.” I don’t know who says this to me. I can’t see the person’s face, and I don’t recognize the voice, but I know the context. Mom.

  I must be dreaming.

  And they’re right. If I tell anyone, I’ll get bullied at school even more. But what if they ask?

  “What if they ask about you?”

  “Well, lie for me. You’re pretty good at that.”

  Something pinches my ear lobe, yanking me out of the dream.

  “Come on!” the tinny voice beside my ears belongs to someone who’s exasperated. But it doesn’t sound like one of the brownies.

  I feel a tug at my shoulder, but my eyes won’t open.

  “Wake up!” Whoever she is, she pokes my cheek.

  “I can’t.” My mouth won’t even work all that well, and I garble my words. Drool pours out the corner of my mouth. I taste dirt.

  “I’ve got—to get—these—out of you!” She sounds strained. Then comes the sensation of a splinter being pulled out of my neck. Relief and nausea wash over me in waves. It happens again and again.

  “You have to wake up!” she says again. “If you don’t, he’ll find you and then it’ll be near impossible to leave before twilight.”

  “I don’t want to move.” My groan embarrasses me, but no matter how hard I try, my body won’t move.

  Maybe now that those needles are gone I can get up. Maybe I can be brave. Maybe I can stand.