White Tree Sound
Page 25
“A fine blade.” The creature said in approval, admiring the Red Knight’s sword.
The Red Knight gazed at the red Ring Pop. It glowed and sparkled, beckoning him, teasing him about the limitless power it contained. He hesitated again and then reached out to it slowly. His fingertips grazed the ring. Power tickled him, spreading up his arm. He picked it up, awed by how something so small could contain such power.
Absolute power. It was his.
The sound of someone hitting the ground behind him made him turn.
Elf lay on the ground, his sword run through her.
“Love. Power.” The devil withdrew the weapon from her midsection. “There can be only one.”
Elf’s eyes were closed.
The Red Knight stood in place, too shocked to react or think.
Blood the color of wine pooled around her onto the black stone floor. His surroundings flashed from black to white, and suddenly, he had returned to the snow world.
He stood behind the two children, except this time, they weren’t walking. The little girl was on her knees, hunched over. Blood spread out around her. The little boy tried to pick her up. His desperate gaze flew toward the castle. It was so far.
Too far.
The snow around her melted beneath the heat from the blood, and the pool spread quickly from the area around them out towards the trees.
His surroundings flashed black once more, and he was standing in the chamber with the devil again.
“Elf!” the Red Knight exclaimed and hurried to her side. He dropped beside her and gently rolled her onto her back. He tore his eyes away from her features, which were quickly blanching. He pressed one hand to her abdomen and raised the Ring with his other. “Fix her!” he shouted at the Ring.
Nothing happened.
The devil laughed.
“Why isn’t it working?” the Red Knight demanded of the creature.
The devil continued laughing.
The Red Knight pressed his hand against her back, mind racing and panic building. How was it possible for absolute power not to work? Was this why the Devil had been so willing to give it up? Because he knew it wouldn’t?
Did absolute power exist? He had never stopped to ask himself if the Ring could do what the legends claimed it could.
“I need your help,” he whispered to the woman bleeding out in his arms.
He spotted the pouch beside her body. Stretching for it, he tore it open, hoping to find a miracle.
It contained a large Band-Aid. He opened it and pressed it to the wound in her abdomen. It would help but not stop her bleeding, because he only had one Band-Aid, and she still bled out of the wound to her back.
The world changed again, and he knelt in the snow and blood, holding Elf. Her blood had reached the trees, which buckled and fell, crashing to the ground. All around him, the world began to collapse and sink into the blood.
The Red Knight fought tears. The blood stretched towards the castle.
They had reached the beginning and the end, just as the prophetic mocha gremlin had hinted.
Red dampened the glow around the Ring. The Red Knight stared at it briefly before wrenching it off his finger.
It was everything he’d sought as long as he could remember, the key to defeating his master and ruling the galaxy. Those were his only memories. He didn’t recall Elf creating a world for him, though his phantom feelings knew it to be true.
What he sought was not the Ring, had never been the Ring. The question and the answer, the beginning and the end, his past and his future, bled out in his arms, felled by his own sword.
The Red Knight released her and climbed unsteadily to his feet. He dropped the Ring and crushed it with his heel.
The devil’s laughter filled the air around him.
“Forgive me, Elf,” he whispered and knelt.
One Band-Aid might be just enough to last until he reached the castle.
He scooped her up in his arms again. The ground of the snow world trembled and shook. He began walking, following a familiar path through shin deep snow towards the castle.
She’d taken him there once to save his life. It was his turn to do the same.
His beginning.
Her end.
His surroundings flickered between the collapsing snow world and the black chamber. The Red Knight ignored the rapid changes, instead focusing all his energy and effort on reaching the castle of White Tree Sound. The blood-snow soaked through his boots and leggings, warm instead of cold. He concentrated on his breath and taking each step.
The Red Knight reached the castle ahead of the pool of blood. Panting, he started across the drawbridge. His leather boots scuffed the wood. His arms shook.
Elf had grown as pale as the snow.
The Red Knight carried her across the bailey and into the castle. He set her down just past the threshold and stepped back.
He had come as far as he knew to come.
“Forgive me, Elf,” he said, stricken. “I know it’s too late, but I choose you.”
Tick. Tick.
The moons finished their movement and eclipsed above him.
His surroundings flickered and faded, transforming once more into the black chamber.
Elf was gone, though the blood remained alongside the crushed ring.
The devil stood laughing.
Rage filled the Red Knight, directed as much at the creature as himself. He swept up the sword dripping with Elf’s blood and charged the devil.
The creature sent him sprawling with a backhand.
The Red Knight grunted and rolled. He stood and touched the blood at the corner of his lip. The devil was larger and well armed. Even neck deep in fury, he understood the odds to be not in his favor. His eyes fell to the unicorn he’d barely noticed upon first entering the chamber.
The Red Knight discreetly pulled the horn from his waistband. He charged the devil, feinted left, and then dove around the creature to land beside the unicorn. He scrambled to his knees and pressed the horn to the naked spot on the unicorn’s forehead.
The devil slashed his black sword, and the Red Knight ducked. His hand fell away – but the horn remained in place.
The Red Knight was forced away from the statue and danced, blocked and struck when possible. He had the advantage of agility, but even that wasn’t going to do him good for long.
He glimpsed the unicorn struggle to its feet from the corner of his eye. The beautiful unicorn was too dazed to challenge the devil, and the Red Knight guided the devil away from the creature.
The devil slashed and jabbed in a series of teeth-rattling blows.
The Red Knight’s sword exploded, throwing him backwards. His ears rang, and blood dampened the hair at the back of his head. He shifted onto his side, stunned, the breath knocked from him. A streak of black sliced the air, headed for him, when blinding white light filled the room.
The unicorn gave a shrill whinny and reared up in the space between the devil and Red Knight. The Red Knight rolled away and managed to regain his footing. He sucked in deep breaths.
The unicorn and devil fought hard. A flicker of movement from behind him. He whirled.
The little girl from his vision stood nearby. She held the hilt of a sword.
“Elf?” he cried and dashed towards her. “How … you can’t be here!”
“I can do whatever I want,” she informed him. She grunted but couldn’t lift the sword.
“You!” bellowed the devil.
Hairs standing up on end, the Red Knight snatched the sword from the little girl and spun, smashing away the devil’s sword. The black blade soared across the room and buried itself into the table.
The devil started forward, only for the unicorn to send him reeling with a kick. The devil smashed a fist into the unicorn, which smashed into the wall.
The Red Knight threw out one arm and pushed Elf behind him.
The devil rounded on him, incensed. He strode across the room, his cloven feet making the floor t
remble.
The Red Knight lowered himself into a fighting stance. Rage pierced him to the soul, as did the knowledge he’d lost Elf once and wouldn’t lose her again.
“Nobody puts Lizzy in a corner,” he hissed at the devil. He twirled his sword and vaulted into the air, towards the devil.
With a war cry, the Red Knight plunged the sword downward. The devil started to shift, but the unicorn kicked him forward again, straight into the Red Knight’s path.
The Red Knight ran the devil all the way through with his sword. The force of the blow sent the creature sprawling onto his back. The Red Knight drove his weapon into the black stone beneath the creature.
The devil kicked the Red Knight away and reached for the hilt of the sword sticking out of his chest.
The unicorn lowered its head and rammed its horn straight through the devil’s skull.
The devil twitched and fell still.
The Red Knight, shaking from exertion and emotion, climbed to his feet.
“Thank … you,” he breathed to the unicorn.
The white stallion bowed, its horn and head streaked with blood.
A nervous whinny came from outside the chamber. The stallion perked up and trotted past the Red Knight into the hallway.
The Red Knight looked around, suddenly aware that his battle was over. The ring lay in shards, the devil was slain, and Elf …
The fire ceased crackling, and his surroundings dimmed, until there was no shape or sounds. It was as if someone had simply turned the world off.
Sorrow pierced the Red Knight’s entire being. He sank to his knees.
He’d lost everything.
A light flickered in front of him, a warm, white glow. Small hands cupped it, and a form materialized.
Young Elf. She wore all white, like an angel. Her hair was slicked back. A tiara with a single pearl dangled on her forehead. She held out her hands, which protected the white light.
“What is it?” he asked hoarsely, sickened by the sight of her younger form when he’d destroyed the other version of her.
“Everything,” she replied. “What do you want it to be?”
“Elf,” he whispered. “My Elf.”
“Close your eyes.”
He did so. No part of him would fight her, if she decided to kill him after all he’d done.
“What do you see?” she asked.
“Snow,” he said hoarsely. “The forest. White Tree Sound. Footsteps leading to the castle.” The images played through his head, crushing him as they did so. He saw little Elf taking his hand long ago and leading him through the snow to a world she created just for him.
He had known, and still he chose the Ring.
“What else?”
He swallowed hard. Tears stung his cheeks. “Nothing. I don’t know.”
“What else?” she asked insistently.
“I can’t.”
“You must. If you build it, she will come. Don’t stop.”
“It’s summer. The drawbridge …” He choked on the words. “The drawbridge is open. I’m waiting for you.” He began describing every detail he could, down to the hue of the wildflowers that sprang up from crags between the stones. He spoke until he was hoarse and breathless, creating the world in his mind as he wished it to be.
Her small hand found his, and she placed the warm light within it. “Now, say the words,” she directed him.
“What words?”
“Say them!”
“I choose you.”
Silence.
He waited.
When the girl didn’t speak again, the Red Knight opened his eyes.
He stood in front of an unfamiliar door in an unfamiliar hallway. It wasn’t his world or the world of White Tree Sound.
Her world.
His breath stuck in his throat. Heaviness was in his gullet. He trembled from hope and dread. Was this another trick? Would he knock and find no one home?
“Quiet, Wookie,” I tell my fluffy puppy affectionately. I push him away from the door with my foot. “Probably the neighbor complaining about me parking in his spot again, since I didn’t move my car yesterday morning.” I sigh. I was knee deep in my manic writing episode, which isn’t a reason normal people understand.
I prepare an excuse for the neighbor. There are days when I really hate living in an apartment community. Someday, when I hit the big times and become a world famous author, that’ll change. Until then, I just have to deal with the ongoing conflict for the best parking spot.
Unlocking the door, I open it.
A man in chainmail, carrying a sword and dripping blood, stands in my doorway. His blue eyes are stormy, his strong jaw clenched, his gorgeous features inscrutable. Everything about him is intense, from his gaze to his stance, as if he expected a dragon to open the door.
What. The. Hell.
He sheathes his sword. “I’ve traveled from space through a crystal forest and a labyrinth, slaughtered Freddy, survived popples and goblins and killed two Care Bears – one by accident.” His voice breaks, and he clears his throat. “I chose the Ring the first time. Had I known …”
He draws a deep breath.
Why does this sound like a book I could’ve written?
“The smallest Elf gave me a second chance,” he continues. “I was wrong. You were all that ever mattered. That ever will matter. You and White Tree Sound. The beginning and the end. It’s our destiny.”
I notice the white tree on his mantle. It’s identical to the one I sketched for White Tree Sound when designing the sigils for the kingdoms in Black Moon Draw. He can’t know that. I never published my sketches! No one has seen them.
The Red Knight.
He disappeared from my novel, Black Moon Draw. Is … is this even possible?
My mouth drops open.
I’ve often fantasized about a handsome knight showing up on my doorstep saying something like this to me. He’s not usually covered in blood and talking about murdering Care Bears.
I should call the police. But … he just happens to be speaking nonsense I understand.
“White Tree Sound,” I repeat. “You’ve been there. You’ve seen the castle nestled into the base of a peak, the –”
“ – white tree with white bark in the courtyard for which the kingdom is named. Over the mountain is the causeway between the mainland and island, from which the kingdom is also named,” he finishes.
He shouldn’t know verbatim description that, either. “Is that blood?” I ask, scrutinizing his clothing.
“The unicorn and I had to kill the devil to get here,” he explains.
“Oh.” Something about him is … familiar. As if we’d not only met before, but spent significant amount of time together. At some level too deep for me to identify, I’m relieved to see him – ecstatic even. I’ve never felt that way about anyone else I’ve ever met in my life.
I should feel conflicted about what to do.
I don’t.
“Your name is …” I wait to see if he gets it right.
“Jareth.”
“You know you’re a villain, right?”
“I am the worst villain,” he whispers. “I sacrificed the only person I cared about for power.”
My cheeks are warm. He’s looking at me as if I’m the only person he’s ever cared about.
“Yeah. That’s bad,” I say and clear my throat. “Do you want a cup of tea? Coffee?”
“Coffee would be rad.” The tension leaves his features. His smile is genuine. “Thank you.”
I step aside to let him in. He drips blood into the foyer.
Am I crazy letting a madman enter my house? I start to reach for my cell phone when I notice his scent.
Caramel spiked with bourbon.
I know that smell. I know his eyes, that his body is a perfect balance between power and athleticism. I recognize his voice and the intensity of his gaze. A shiver runs through me, part thrill, part anticipation, part primal recognition, as if I’ve found the half of
me I didn’t know was missing.
I move away from him, overwhelmed by the instinct I’ve always known him and the knowledge we’ve never met.
“Do you want sugar in your coffee?” I ask, unable to think of anything else to say in the awkward quiet.
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Alrighty then.” I shake my head. “Do me a favor and clean up in the bathroom. I have some gym clothes sitting out. I don’t want blood everywhere.” I point down the hallway.
“As you wish,” he replies.
What am I doing?
I don’t know, but my breath catches, and familiar pain forms in my breast, at the thought of sending him away.
The Knight strides through my apartment and ducks into the bathroom.
“Weird day, Wookie,” I say to the shaggy dog sitting at my feet.
I put on the teakettle.
My doorbell rings. It’s too early for FedEx or UPS deliveries and my best friend Julia isn’t coming by to go shopping for another hour. I’ve already met my quota of crazy people for the day.
Uncertain what to expect, I open the door and gasp.
It’s every woman’s nightmare. My ex – forty pounds slimmer – accompanied by the woman he left me for. I laugh in shock and stop abruptly.
“The hits keep on rolling,” I say under my breath. But I step aside, mumble a greeting, and welcome them into my home.
They sit down on the couch, me in the armchair. Wookie is all over them.
“What’s on your carpet?” my ex asks, gaze on the speckles of blood leading from the front door down the hallway.
“Wine,” I say after a pause. “The bottle had a hole in it.”
They politely refrain from asking more questions.
“Saw you released another book,” my ex says. “You always were a great writer.”
“I’ve read everything you’ve ever written!” his woman gushes.
I nod, distracted by the idea of there being a fictional knight in my bathroom. Do I want him to waltz into the living room and rescue me from my simmering anger, or will that just make things worse?
“We wanted to tell you before you saw it online,” my ex says.
As if I didn’t notice the ring on her finger.
“We …” He stops, eyes on a point past me. They’re both startled.