by Megan Derr
"Neither could I, the royals would fuss too much about how it should taste," Grete drawled, and Adamina almost snorted her soup.
When her laughter eased off, Adamina asked, "Why did you kill the pheasant and rabbit?"
"To examine them. I tried a few living specimens, but they did not tell me much. I can get a better grasp of how far the rapunzel is spread by examining their bodies. It was unfortunate, but I hope two deaths now will save hundreds later. I think I will examine them now, unless you've further need of me?"
Adamina grinned. "Only for things you won't let me do, witch."
Rolling her eyes, Grete fetched the dead animals. She carried them to the edge of the camp and, with a long, sharp hunter's knife, went to work. She returned to Adamina with a pile of bloody organs on a handkerchief. "Look at these," she said quietly, sitting down beside her.
"Damn it," Adamina replied. The organs were all a strange purple-black, too small in size and warped in shape. They hadn't just eaten and gotten addicted to the rapunzel—they had been born infected with it, molded by it, needing it. "The forest is even more poisoned and broken than I thought. This just keeps getting worse." She stared at her half-finished soup, then set the bowl on the ground, stomach churning.
Shaking her head, Grete prodded at the organs a bit more. "I do not understand how the villagers can be unaware of the problem. They should have sent for help years ago—decades even."
Adamina frowned. "I think they are aware, actually. When I first arrived Victoria served meatless soup. That's unusual, but it does happen occasionally so I thought nothing of it… but now I wonder if the whole village avoids eating meat because all of theirs is so heavily contaminated." She wanted to beat her head against a tree. "They gave me a cool reception, and I know they delayed longer than they should have in summoning help, but I thought it was because they were one more small, superstitious village. I think now they were more afraid I would figure out they're fully aware of the problems with this forest."
Fetching her knapsack, Grete pulled out a tin jar that proved to be empty when she opened it, and a small wooden box with multiple compartments for holding various herbs. Picking three, she sprinkled them over the blackened organs, then wrapped them up a handkerchief and bundled them into the tin. Tucking it away again, she stood. "I'm going to go clean up. Try to finish your soup."
Adamina made a face but obeyed. She'd already eaten half of it, so it didn't matter much at that point, and she had no desire to be hungry sooner than necessary. Her stomach still churned with every bite, mind unable to leave off the memory of the creatures, all the terrible things that rapunzel could do to people. The royal order to burn all of it and ban it ever entering the country again had finally come after a terrible case of mass murder: a man had become so addicted that he kept marrying witches, or women who'd had their magic sealed away, and then would kill and eat them. Only because his newest wife had realized the danger before he could kill her, and managed to escape, had the matter reached the crown.
That was only ninety-odd years ago. It was the last time anyone had major dealings with rapunzel, since shortly thereafter royal soldiers had swept the queendom to burn every last trace of rapunzel and ensure more would not grow. How had they missed an entire village?
She looked up as Grete returned. "You and your mother—when you found that woman, did you destroy all the rapunzel? You must have, so how did it return?"
"We only found a few small bushes of it around the base of the tower, and those we did destroy. We had planned to report it to the crown, but got so busy looking for the children we just forgot… and then we just wanted to close the whole matter, another mistake we should not have made." She stared glumly at the grass, hair half-shrouding her face, firelight drawing out the red tones in it and bathing her in flickering light.
Adamina reached out, rested a hand on her shoulder in comfort, and when Grete seemed to lean into the touch she scooted closer and looped her arm around Grete's shoulder. "I have many stories of poor judgment and ignoring a problem until too late to my name. Who doesn't? It sounds as though you did the best you could, and I cannot say that in your shoes I would have acted differently."
"Still, perhaps if we had acted differently…"
"There is no saying for certain how events might have played out," Adamina replied. "Events could have turned out better, or much worse. What matters is that we will definitely put an end to the problem now, though I fear it may grow to be large enough a problem I will need to fetch further reinforcements."
Grete smiled faintly. "Clearly going with a local witch was not your brightest idea."
"I have no regrets," Adamina said, leaning in slightly, smiling when Grete met her halfway, lips soft and warm, fingers feather-light where they slid along Adamina's cheek before running over her close-cropped hair and cupping the back of her head. She kissed with confidence, none of the hesitancy that Adamina so often encountered from people who could not stop seeing her as a Huntress.
Adamina moved to settled across Grete's lap, sinking her fingers into all that lovely hair, catching on the rattling wooden charms. Her side flared in protest, but she stubbornly ignored it, far more interested in lapping at Grete's lips, pressing her tongue in deep to taste every bit of that warm, sweet mouth. Hands slid along her back, wrapped around her waist, pulling them flush and making Adamina moan. Far, far too long since she'd enjoyed such pleasures, and the last few had been easy met, easy parted. Grete seemed like a memory that would last, a memory that would call her back to make new ones.
She blinked when Grete drew back, pouted at the reproving look on her face. "If you tear my stitches I'll be cross with you the rest of this trip."
"Yes, ma'am," Adamina said, but stole another quick kiss before climbing off Grete's lap. "So I guess our plan is to find the rapunzel and destroy it—or at least ascertain the severity of it so I can bring in suitable reinforcements. Do you remember the location of the tower? That seems the best place to start."
Grete worried her bottom lip; Adamina looked away before she made an offer that would earn her another stern look. "I think I can find the way again. There are certain landmarks easy enough to find, and once we reach those I can find my way back to the tower." She sighed. "There are some things you can't forget even when you try."
"I know the feeling too well." Adamina gave her another quick hug, then stood up to tend the fire and make certain it would last through most of the night. Dusk was quickly falling around them. "Should we take turns on watch?"
"Not necessary," Grete replied, and lifted her hand, making the magic around them shimmer briefly into visibility; it faded out again as she lowered her hand. "It won't do more than warn us, but that should be all we need. I'm sorry I cannot do more; a Sorcerer would be far more useful right now."
Adamina shrugged. "You've no need to apologize. Without you I would be dead. Most of the time when I'm on my hunts, I spend my nights strapped in trees as high as I can climb. Being on the ground, and with an alert in place, is a luxury." She settled back down on her bedroll, tired now the thought of resting had occurred to her. The wolf woofed softly, stretched out alongside her back. "Goodnight, witch."
Grete smiled faintly. "Goodnight, my lady." Grete quickly settled into her own bedroll on the other side of the fire. Once she had gone still, Adamina let her own eyes fall shut and quickly fell sleep.
*~*~*
"It's a shame these woods are so broken," Adamina said when they stopped for a break beside a stream, gesturing to the rundown millhouse a short distance away. "That is the fourth home I have seen today, so obviously these woods thrived once upon a time. A pity we'll likely never know what turned it into the Broken Forest."
"Mmm," Grete agreed. She took a sip of water from her skin, then ate a handful of nuts—brought from her home, thankfully. Neither of them wanted to eat more of the poisoned forest than was absolutely necessary. "People love to spin rumors. Some say it was severed by the king who first created
this country, long before the Great Queens saved it and made of it a worthy place. Others say it is broken because he fled here and the forest severed itself so he could not escape into the Laughing Forest and out of the queendom. The popular theory in my mother's day was that the forest itself is being punished."
Adamina's mouth quirked. "What do you think?"
"I think somebody probably did something stupid, and eventually it spiraled out of control. That is how such things most often happen." She finished off the nuts and pulled two apples from her bag, tossing one to Adamina. "Do they have different theories at the palace?"
"If so, I've never heard them," Adamina said. "But usually I work further north, in the mountains a few days travel from my home—my parents' home, really, but I'm so rarely in one place long enough for it to be worth taking rooms of my own. I have a room in the west wing that overlooks the lake and the night gardens. I used to sneak out to the gardener's cabin in the far corner of the property; he'd let me sip his wine while he told me stories, then took me back to my room when I invariably fell asleep." Her smile turned sad. "He died a few years ago, while I was far away in the mountains and nearly got buried by a damned avalanche."
Grete reached out and squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry."
Adamina smiled briefly in thanks. "Your cabin reminds me of it, actually. It was always filled with roses—that's what my father's gardens mostly consist of, he's quite fond. They're why my parents met, actually."
"They met in a rose garden? How appropriate."
Laughing, Adamina finished her apple and threw the core into the woods. "No, no. They met because my grandfather stole a rose to give to my mother, and it angered my father, scared Grandpapa to death. My mother arrived the very next day to give my father a dressing down. The rest of the story you'd have to hear from them; I could never do it justice." She took a large gulp of water, then stowed the skin. "So where are we headed next, witch?"
"Across the stream and up a steep hill. Unless my memory deceives me, we go up for quite a bit, then right back down again and through a particularly dense stretch of forest. We'll know we're on the right path when we start running into the thorns. They're huge, black, and hurt something fierce."
"Ugh, thorns," Adamina muttered as they climbed to their feet and headed down along the stream toward the abandoned mill.
There were signs that a bridge had once spanned the stream, but the bridge itself seemed long gone, the pylons crumbling and mildewed, little more than a place for birds to pause before diving after fish or darting after bugs. "I guess we're doing this the hard way." She swung her pack off her back and hefted it, eyed the far bank thoughtfully—then heaved and threw, cheering when it landed precisely where she had wanted.
Grete laughed as she handed over her own bag. "Do mine, too. If I try that it will wind up dead center of the stream."
"As you wish." Adamina threw the bag, which landed just up the bank from her own. Carrying her sword and bow so they wouldn't get wet, she waded into the water and started across. The water was cold, moving faster than she would have expected.
The stream was also filled with fish that would make a fine meal for most, except that even they were likely poisoned with rapunzel. How far had the rapunzel spread? How much land and water beyond the Broken Forest had been poisoned? The answers to those questions were probably not going to make anyone happy.
Reaching the far side, she tossed her weapons up the bank before hoisting herself up—and slipped as her hand grabbed a bundle of grass that proved to be oil-slick, sending her tumbling back into the stream, soaked and cold clear through, swept along—
And grabbed, hauled close. She came up sputtering, fumbled for a better hold, then wiped water from her face. "Ugh."
Grete laughed and helped her to her feet. "Are you all right, my lady?"
"Only my dignity suffered any harm," Adamina said with a sigh. "I will be complaining about being wet and cold the rest of the day, however." At least her cloak and tunic would dry quickly; they were made from specially treated material meant to weather through almost any rough treatment.
"We can stop and build a fire, rest for a bit while you dry. It's not healthy to stomp around in wet clothes."
Adamina shrugged. "Believe me, I've walked around in much worse condition. Dragon blood, for one. There is nothing more miserable than spending seven hours killing a dragon, only to realize at the end that you're miles from where you started, and you have no easy way back because the stupid dragon ate your horse. As if that is not enough, all the blood covering you is getting into uncomfortable places, attracting insects and scavengers, and you can't remember where you last saw water. It took three dunkings in a river and two hot baths to smell human again, and all of my clothes had to be pitched."
Grete slapped a hand over her mouth in a poor attempt to stifle giggles.
"Yes, my family thought it was quite entertaining as well." Adamina made a face, then went to wring out her clothes as best she could. When she was finally damp rather than soaked, she shrugged her pack on and settled her weapons. "Lead the way, witch. Let's see if we can reach this tower before dark, though as to that I'm not certain I want to camp there…"
"But the sooner it's over the sooner we can leave," Grete said as she settled her own pack before beginning the careful climb up a steep hill heavily covered with trees and shrubs.
They did nothing but go up for nearly two hours, though that was largely because the forest grew so dense and tangled that they had to backtrack often and find new paths. "I thought you said it grew dense later," Adamina groused when they finally stopped to rest, sitting together on a fallen tree suspended a few measures in the air because the top portion had fallen across a small, moss-covered boulder. She took a large gulp of water from the skin Grete handed her, then handed it back.
Grete took a healthy swallow of her own and let the skin rest in her lap, clutching it loosely. She brushed sweat-damp hair from where it stuck to her brow. "It wasn't this bad before. I don't know how it could have gotten so bad so fast. This sort of contamination usually takes years to spread this far, sink in this deep."
Adamina pursed her lips in thought, resting a hand on the trunk. Closing her eyes, she felt down, down into the forest. It was even more fractured here than where she had bound herself to it just outside the village. "The troubling news is that it could have spread much faster. The forest has been trying to slow the poison down, and close off the worst part, where it must have started. It's trying to save what is left, but unfortunately its efforts are in vain."
"I had no idea it was so bad. I thought this forest was just made gloomy by shadows of past deeds." Grete gazed around sadly at their surroundings, stroked the tree they sat on. "I will always regret my mother and I did not do more, that we did not realize how much more was needed."
"You did the best you could. Even we Huntresses never realized that this forest was so broken. It's not part of the Royal Forest, but still we should have sensed it. Hopefully we can bring it peace, though I fear the only peace it will find is in destroying it." The thought made her want to cry.
She startled when a hand curled around hers, squeezed gently. Adamina looked at their hands, then up at Grete, who smiled softly and reached up with her other hand to brush away the tears on Adamina's cheeks. "Is that truly all we can do now?"
Adamina shook her head. "The forest has gone mad from poison and pain. Even if we get rid of the rapunzel, the forest is too broken to recover. The best we can do is put the forest out of its misery. Doing so, however, will take more Huntresses and a few Sorcerers. For now, you and I can only destroy the rapunzel and ensure it stops attacking Edge. Once that's done, I'll see you home and then return to the royal palace for help."
"I'm sorry."
"Thank you," Adamina said quietly. She sighed and slid to her feet, retrieved the waterskin Grete must have set on the ground at some point, put it back in her pack. Settling the pack on her back, she adjusted her cloak until it
fell comfortably and looked to Grete, who stood waiting as well. "Shall we, witch?"
Grete smiled and stepped in close, curled her fingers around the back of Adamina's neck, leaned up to kiss her softly. "I do wish we were meeting under happier circumstances, my lady, but I am glad we have met." She stepped back and turned away before Adamina could reply, humming softly as they headed out.
Adamina fell into step behind her, ignoring the protests of her sore, tired body as they continued weaving, climbing, fighting their way through the woods.
They finally started going downhill after another hour or so, and not long after that they came upon the thorns. As Grete had promised, they were large, black, and painful. Adamina tripped on a snarl of vines and roots and managed to ram her palm directly on one sharp, jutting thorn. "Damn it!" Gritting her teeth against the throbbing, stabbing pain spreading through her hand, Adamina fumbled out a handkerchief from a pocket in her cloak and pressed it to the hole in her palm. "What kind of thorns are these? I thought I had seen everything, but these are new to me."
Grete shook her head. "I don't know. Likely they were something entirely harmless once, and have been warped like everything else."
Adamina sighed. She studied her wound critically, then pulled out supplies to bandage it properly. Grete took the supplies from her and set deftly to work; Adamina was more than content to let her. "At least the thorns don't appear to be poisonous. I hope." She wiggled her fingers when Grete finished. "It still feels like someone stabbed a knife through my hand, but it's easing off. Thank you."
"Of course," Grete said with a smile. "You do like to get injured, don't you?"
Adamina laughed. "No, actually, but I seem to have a knack for it anyway." She tucked the supplies back in her bag and once more stood, settling the pack into place. "Onward, and hopefully I will stop trying to get myself killed, at least through sheer clumsiness."
"Remind me to tell you about the time I accidentally locked myself in my own cellar."
