by Jamie Day
“I want you to go home,” I told him. “You don’t need to stay with us.” Part of me expected him to protest. I wanted him to tell me how much I needed him and that he had promised Father to stay with me.
He didn’t. Instead, he nodded and shut the gate behind him. It shrieked so loud that it pierced the air will shrill annoyance. As Ethan passed Darian, he stopped to stare at the dying man, as if absorbing every feature and detail of his pain. Then he walked to me and leaned on my shoulder. “Do you want anything?” he asked, whispering into my ear coldly.
“No,” I answered, clearing the word from my throat. “Tell everyone that I’m okay.” As he stepped away, I grabbed his leg. “Don’t tell them about Darian.” Perhaps he was seeking that secret from my voice. “And Father is the only one who can know where I am.”
He kicked to free himself, but I held on, squeezing his ankle so he would know my intention. “You can’t tell anyone where I’m hiding and Father can’t tell anyone. Make him promise.” I stared at my brother, willing the same thing with my eyes. “You must promise.”
His hesitation told me that I had chosen my words well. In his eyes, I thought I could read his intentions. He would not be able to keep my secret.
“I promise,” he said. He shook his leg free and left the cave, snatching his sword from against the tree where he’d left it.
“I’m not going home,” I said loud enough so there was no questioning my words. “You may tell everyone that.”
Ethan swiped a low branch with his blade before disappearing into the forest. As his footsteps faded, I wondered if this had been our last moment together. I shivered and knelt next to Darian. He was colder than the cave.
We needed a fire. Safer in the cave, we were still exposed to its chill, and I needed heat to mend Darian’s wounds. Taylor’s Ridge had always been known for course stones. Marked by their color, the stones were natural fire starters, and gave the mountain its crimson hues. Scattered remnants of the stones were plentiful in the cave. I needed only to choose the right rock and strike it against the metal of the gate.
Making sparks wasn’t as simple as I had been used to, but after many tries, and a small pile of shattered stones, I managed to build us a tiny fire. Its wavering flame ebbed between the cave and the forest, dancing with uncertainty in this hollow sanctuary. Once the fire displayed a healthy glow, I left Darian alone and ventured back into the trees to search for herbs that could save him.
Oh, how I longed for a cauldron. Healing would be much easier with a simple black pot. The forest north of Taylor’s Ridge offered an assortment of plants and small berries that could fill my days with brewing delight; however, without a means to boil, they were useless. In some instances, they were deadly without special preparation. I grabbed what I could find, returning to the cave entrance every few moments to add a branch to the fire and to offer Darian small leaves to chew to ease his pain. He hated the plants I gave him, and even spat one out in front of me, complaining of its taste.
Fortune eventually smiled upon us as the sun neared midday. I found a patch of dawnberries near the lake. Though not as refreshing as at first light, they would offer a meal that Darian could not complain of. I gobbled a handful myself before returning to the cave.
“Here,” I told him, handing him one round fruit. “Take this.”
He opened his eyes. They weren’t vacant, but still weak. “What is that?” he asked. He lifted his open palm to accept my offering.
“It’s a dawnberry. Eat it.”
He did as I ordered, then smiled as the fruit passed his lips. It was the first time I had seen him smile since meeting him in captivity. “It tastes like lemon and blueberry,” he said. He finished the bite.
I grinned back and handed him another. “I’ve never heard it described like that.” I ate one just to absorb his understanding of the flavor. Delicate tart touched my tongue and whispered of sweet bloom. I piled the remaining dawnberries in front of him and stood. “I’ll get some more.”
“No.” Darian lifted his able hand to stop me. “I’m thirsty. Is there water near?”
My face warmed. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it. Of course, he needed water; I knew that. I needed water. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I’ll bring some quickly.” I scrambled to my feet and shuffled back toward the forest. “I’m sorry.”
What was happening to me? I couldn’t think right. Everything was mixing in a strange blur. Perhaps I was too fatigued and hungry. Whatever was wrong with me, I didn’t know how to heal it. I was acting foolishly, regardless. I decided to collect water from the stream, rather than risk exposure at the lake. We were outlaws from everywhere, and the simple act of fetching water felt like sedition in our current circumstances. When I reached the stream, my mind caught up to my folly. I didn’t have a way to carry water back to Darian.
I searched, frantically turning over stones and digging under bushes for something to carry water. There wouldn’t be anything; I knew that, but I still wasn’t thinking right. I looked up. Hovered above me was the branch of an Andelin tree. I smiled at my discovery. Andelin tree leaves grew wide and thick. Weaved together, they made strong baskets that were lighter than wood. My grin widened my cheeks as I plucked several leaves from the branch.
Another reason the leaves made such wonderful baskets was their ability to absorb toxins from the food or water they carried. When pressed to a wound, they pulled out the infection. I grabbed another handful of leaves as I thought about Darian’s arm and leg. I didn’t know how long he had been injured, and it was possible that I still might not have enough to heal him, but I could try. I had promised him that.
I knelt down and tore a few of the leaves into strips. Then I started to weave. I hadn’t woven a basket in years, but the memories and skills I had used as a child found their way to me. My crude basket wasn’t pretty, and it wasn’t round, but it could carry water, for a bit. I tore more leaves and carefully worked on the second layer.
Darian was sleeping when I returned to the cave. It hadn’t felt like a long while, but perhaps my efforts in building a basket had taken longer than I had realized. I knelt next to him and lifted his injured arm.
His wound was blistering and unnaturally violet. Seeing the cut in the firelight made my stomach heave. I peeled the torn remnants of Darian’s sleeve away from the wound and wiped his flesh with the bottom of my gown, revealing fresh blood. I snatched a leaf and pressed it to Darian’s arm.
Darian sighed loudly and smiled. His eyes lost contact briefly, and I thought he was lost when he closed his eyes, but then he opened and stared firm and focused into mine. “You don’t know how good that feels,” he said.
He was right. I had never needed andelin leaves on my skin. I understood their power from my years with the Fae, but had never known their touch. I lifted the leaf from his arm—it was bubbling and white on one side—and tossed it into the fire. With a burst of yellow, it popped and smoldered into a trail of thin white smoke. I pressed a new leaf onto Darian’s arm.
“I think you’ve been poisoned,” I told him, pressing the leaf firmly. “I’ve seen cuts before, but this looks different and unnatural. Without knowing what the poison was, I may not be able to heal you correctly.” I stopped staring at his torn sleeve and looked at his face. His eyes were blood soiled. Behind them, I saw the dark beauty they must have once been. “When were you injured?”
Darian rubbed his arm with his good hand. I moved mine away and let him press the leaf. “Thank you,” he whispered. He didn’t answer my question.
Tears fought to escape. I held them back. Memories swirled inside my head and tangled my thinking in a twisting vine of confusion. He was the villain, but I felt a need to care for him. How could I? I wasn’t a faerie. I had no bond to this man except my spite and my anger—and a promise. I swallowed the moment and glared back at him, angry for my oath.
“Where are the scrolls?” I demanded. My question exposed what I sought. In front of me, sat the p
erson who could offer vindication for all I had suffered. I wanted the Fae Scrolls. With them, I could solve my trouble. With them, I would be something once again in the village. “Where did you hide them?”
Darian chuckled and closed his eyes. I didn’t expect his brazen response, so I slid back and away from him. As I did, he tossed the leaf from his arm into the fire. I aimed my eyes at him while he grabbed another leaf and covered his wound.
“Did you hear my question?” I demanded.
He nodded. “I heard you.” He looked straight at me, unwavering. “I don’t know anything about scrolls,” he said. “I’m sorry they’re missing, but I didn’t take them.” He lowered his head. “It’s the only question any of those men asked me. I didn’t realize you were one of them.”
“One of them!” I scrambled to my feet. “Didn’t you listen to what I told my brother? Don’t you care about what happened to Sean? He’s dead because of you!” I kicked the basket of water over and ran to the cave entrance. I rushed back toward him, pointing with the anger that I knew and hated. “I could kill you now,” I told him, “or even better, I could let you die. You don’t deserve to live, but I’m helping you. Stop playing games and tell me where the scrolls are.”
Darian shook his head. “I’m sorry.” He wiped his brow and looked up at me. “Who is Sean?”
I don’t know how long I had stopped breathing, but when I started again, it felt like I couldn’t gasp enough air. I dropped to the ground and heaved large breaths. How could he not know? The tears returned and, this time, I didn’t stop them. My mouth was dry and my eyes were draining. Smoke from the fire must have drifted toward me, because every part of my face burned. I still couldn’t breathe. I struggled to live, while the life that should have ended watched my agony. I didn’t look up, but I knew he was staring; I could feel his awful lies swirling around my head.
I opened my eyes. Darian had turned and moved closer to the fire. He had also collected the andelin leaves and had piled them near him. A puff of white smoke rose from the fire before he spoke to me.
“I think I figured it out,” he said. He turned to me. “I know why everyone hates me.”
At least one of us was thinking clear.
“If I’m the enemy, what did those men want with you?”
“I don’t know,” I snapped.
“Why did they call you faerie?”
I lowered my head. “They don’t know.” When he didn’t speak, I glanced at him. His eyes revealed his question. “I was removed from the Fae,” I told him, upset at myself for exposing so much. “I’m not a faerie anymore. I did awful things—to save Sean. I took the scrolls to pay his ransom. After you stole them, I—” I paused to think about how to say me next words. “—I hurt you.”
“You kicked me.”
“I did more than that,” I retorted. “I hit you and beat you. You were screaming.” I was challenging his version of the most dangerous event of my life, because a dam had broken in me, and all my losses and sorrows overflowed. I had to know the truth, and this man was the only person who could tell me what really happened. “Those things cost me everything I loved.” I snatched the leaf from Darian’s arm.
“I know how you feel.” Darian grabbed my hand with his good one and held my fingers in his.
I tried to wrestle them free, but his grip was stronger than I expected.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said. He set my hand on my gown and replaced the leaf I had taken with a new one, pressing it harder against his arm than before. “I never took any scrolls.” Darian released a long, deep sigh. “If I could help you find them, would you forgive me?”
My breath failed me. Everything I thought I knew was turned upside down in the space of a few words. For so long, I had been convinced that Darian was the cause of all my pain. Surely, he would say anything to protect himself. But when I searched his eyes, I could find no hint of provocation. When I tried to answer, all I could mutter was yes, though it sounded like a hoarse growl. “Yes,” I repeated, clearer this time. “But why would you help me?”
Darian nodded and rubbed his arm. “Because you don’t deserve the loneliness I can see in your eyes.”
His revelation created more questions in my mind. “You’re the bandit,” I said. “You’ve been stealing from our village. If you didn’t take the scrolls, then who did?”
“I’m not a criminal.” Darian’s voice was low. It called me to lean closer. Then another cough reminded me that he was still close to dying. “I’m not supposed to be here, but I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“But I saw you running toward Stone Meadow.” The memory of my fleeting encounter made me cringe. I saw his shadow and heard the arrow as it buried itself into the tree, missing him. I remembered Cameron’s angry voice and the others who followed. “Men have been trying to capture you for a long while. You’re the enemy.”
Darian nodded and shifted while he sat. I saw him wince, but he made no sound to reveal what pain he felt. “I’m not wanted in this place, I understand that.” Again, his voice lowered. “I don’t want to be here.”
“Then, why didn’t you go? You could have left before the season. There was no need for any trouble.”
“I couldn’t leave,” he said, shaking his head. “I was trapped.”
His words confused me. “No one forced you to stay in Aisling. It wasn’t until you caused trouble that we chased you and captured you. You could have left before then.” I glared at him and paused. “You could leave now.”
He removed the leaf on his arm and tossed it at the fire. I watched it flare and smoke, then turned back to look at him. Darian’s eyes were solid and bold. Suddenly, the wonderful voice I had once known returned.
“I need a key to return home,” he told me. He cupped his hands and held them together. “It’s a green crystal. An emerald the size of an egg.”
I gasped, suspecting what I should have realized. “The emerald.” My thoughts echoed off the walls as I remembered the night Nia had showed me the mysterious crystal she had found in the forest. I thought of the little man in DarMattey, Oscar. I covered my mouth with my hands and leaned closer to Darian. “You need the emerald?”
As Darian nodded, a shadow blocked the light from the forest behind us. Someone else had entered the cave.
Thorns and Roses
Father’s voice shattered the peace. “You’re alive!”
I jumped, startled at his arrival. “Father, you frightened me.”
When I moved, my father saw Darian. He dropped the burlap sack he carried and ran toward us, yelling. “You!” He met Darian with a large fist that knocked him lower to the dirt. “What have you done?”
“No, Father.” I leapt in front of his next blow. “Stop.” I was crying as I yelled and the strike from my father’s hand knocked me into Darian.
Darian scrambled from under me and backed against the cave wall. Father knelt beside me and offered his hand, the same one that struck me. He hadn’t intended to strike me, but my anger at his bluster hadn’t burned itself out yet.
“Rhiannon, I’m sorry.” My father glared at Darian and returned to the sack he had left at the entrance. He retrieved it and dropped it next to the fire. Silently, he produced a small kettle, a knife, a wool blanket, a container of cider, some apples, and a long loaf of bread.
I leaned closer when I saw the bread. My stomach longed for food.
“I brought you some things. It isn’t much. We salvaged a few supplies from the ashes.” He dug deep and made a line with the precious things in front of our small fire until the sack was empty. Then he folded the sack into a square and sat down. He grabbed one of the branches I had collected and snapped it into bits, tossing them absently into the flames.
“Thank you.” I managed to say, choking on the words. My father’s temper often flared, but it could never make me doubt his love. From his dejected air, I could tell he was upset at his outburst. I rubbed my shoulder and slid closer to him. “I’ll be okay.”
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Father’s arm trembled as he reached around me. When I didn’t move away, he pulled me toward him and offered his warmth. The tobacco smell on his clothes was familiar and inviting. I sighed, inhaling as much memory of good days past as my breath allowed. Then I looked at his eyes. They were red and moist.
“Did Ethan tell you what happened to us?” I asked. I glanced at Darian, who sat against the opposite wall of the cave.
Father mumbled his reply. “He found us. He’s all right, you know.”
I knew what he was waiting for. “And Mother?” I asked. “Leila? Are they all right?”
Another mumble. The deep rumble of his chest was soothing. I felt like a young child in his arms. He was so warm and protecting, I didn’t want to leave his grasp. I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my dress and sat there, cradled in my father’s arms, staring across the dancing flames at the dark face watching us from the other side. A branch crackled and snapped, sending cinders into the air.
“Has he been trouble to you?” asked Father. His words came out slowly, as if he was holding something back.
I shook my head. “No. He helped us escape.” I smiled at Darian before looking up at my Father. “How is the village? What news do you have?”
When he squeezed me tighter, I knew the word wouldn’t be good. “There’s fear and ash everywhere. Dylia is dead.”
I cried when I heard her name. The oldest of the faeries, Dylia had always been so kind, so perfect. Her arms had always been full of angel vine flowers that she shared freely with anyone. Of all the faeries, she was the most elegant dancer. The Fae were now twenty-six.
Father held me for a while then shifted away from me. He grabbed an apple and set it in my hands. “Here,” he said, “you should eat. You look thin and weak.”
I dropped the apple. “Not that,” I told him. I didn’t think he would understand about the apples, so I didn’t try telling him why. Just the look of them reminded me of the foul taste of Morgan. “Give me the bread and the cider.”
