by Ren Ryder
Sighing, I said, “So, we’re running blind through territory you’re not familiar with, and while we cross it we need to find some flowers you know nothing about, then somehow deliver the things to the merfolk on our trek across Dayside so their curse doesn’t kill me before we can complete this first trial, all on an ambiguous timeline?”
“Wow!” Bell gave me a round of applause. “You summed it up real nice! You know, I’ve had a change of heart— you should be in charge!”
I glowered at her. “Sometimes I really hate you.”
Bell brushed me off. “You shouldn’t worry so much. It’ll all work out, you’ll see.”
“Maybe I’ve had a change of heart about bringing you along with me,” I threatened.
“Oh, you kidder, you. Playing hard to get?” Bell laughed, then poked me in my bruised left shoulder. “Don’t forget, we have a contract. You won’t be rid of me that easy.”
Pain radiated down my shoulder through my arm.
“Let’s just get on with this before my better judgment kicks in.”
I limbered up as best as I could while I identified a trail distant enough from the one Fin took without taking us too far off track.
Into the Nightside we go.
Chapter Eleven
“Can you, stop, hold up for a bit!” Bell yelled from the trees behind me.
I let my eyes track across the sky. I could’ve been fooling myself, but the crescent moon looked fuller.
In losing her favorite nap spot, Bell was forced to cross the Darkwood’s expanse the old fashioned way: she flew under her own power. That proved rather too much for the little faery, who was used to riding along in my shirtfront pocket and waking up, only sometimes, for the important bits. You’d think a wind sprite would travel well, but this one was used to being pampered.
I rolled my eyes and stopped to let Bell catch up. “Can you hurry it up? We’re behind as is.”
More than anything, I was surprised to have discovered a branching trailhead soon after starting our trek. It came as a relief. Forcing my way through thorn bushes and thick brush had long since lost its charm.
Bell landed atop my head and settled into my long hair like a bird in a nest.
“Maybe, you could use the exercise,” I suggested.
“Hey! Some common courtesy would be nice!”
I pretended to dig around in my pants pockets. “Sorry, fresh out. Can we go now?”
“Yes, of course. Onward my steed!”
Stubborn, I held my place for a long moment. I’d set off to the beat of my own drum, thank you very much. We had hiked up a series of rolling hills to discover, nothing much besides more of the same. By its nature the Nightside possessed an unnerving quality, but its dark tranquility began to grow on me.
“Yah, git, go horsey!” Bell drummed her legs against my skull.
I expected the Darkwood to be teeming with predators, more dangerous, but I’d yet to come across anything else that wanted to take a bite out of me. It was a bit of a shame, really. Despite my recent drowning and brush with death, plus the fight that followed, I was feeling… good.
Real good.
My muscles had warmed up nice from the hike, nothing felt strained or torn. A light sheen of sweat covered my body. The night air was cold, but refreshing. My lungs felt good, not overburdened at all. If my body was a locomotive steam engine, I’d say everything was running smooth.
I smirked. “Alright, we can go.”
“About time!” Bell complained.
I held up a finger. “First, let me test something.”
“What, c’mon, I’m dying here!”
“Don’t be so dramatic.”
With slow tenacity, I formed a mana skin. I funneled a fistful of mana at a time into the pocket of my aura, letting my body determine how it felt first before I grabbed another, and another. Satisfied I was recovered enough for the attempt, I packed the pocket with power then cut off the stream of mana.
My skin buzzed.
“Wait, what’s that? What’re you doing?” Bell asked, a hint of nervousness in her voice.
I leapt off my back foot with full force, shooting myself down the trail at top speed. Like a looming graveyard, a grove of leafless trees shot up in front of me. Without slowing, I dodged through tree trunks and leapt over roots and boulders.
“I don’t like this ride!” Bell screamed, her dainty claws digging into my skull.
My feet pounded down the dirt trail, each of my strides carrying me many yards. The wind rushed past my ears. My eyes streamed with tears from the speed. A slight smile formed on my face, then grew, and grew into a full grin.
Trees and shrubbery blurred into a single mass.
A primal sound grew in my stomach, traveled up my throat, and I released it into the world. “HAAAAAAH!”
“AHHH!” Bell yelled into the wind.
We traveled on game trails, up and down hilly expanses, through a wide valley, and to the base of some mountainous terrain at breakneck speed.
When we stopped it was sudden, unexpected. My control slipped and my mana skin dissipated, leeching the reinforced strength from my limbs. In the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other, I lost my footing and tripped-fell to the ground.
I hit headfirst and went into an uncontrolled tumble head-over-heels, then as I tried to assert some control over my fall with my arms, into a side roll.
Earth and sky melded together, and my brain fuzzed.
A great hand slapped me to a stop.
A murder of crows leapt from their perch and took to the skies, cawing.
I tried to stand and immediately fell back to the ground. I was so disoriented that I felt like I’d drank a barrel of ale by myself. Nausea overcame me and I puked up watery bile. I rolled onto my back and stared into the sky while I waited for the Otherworld to stop spinning around me.
Bell was puking rainbows beside me. “That. Was. The. Worst!”
My balance was off and I teeter-tottered all over the place, but I stood with the help of the great hand— the massive oak that had stopped me cold. A human-sized impression had been left in its bark. Seeing it, I patted myself down to look for serious injuries, but found none. I was scraped up and dirty, but that was it.
I shook my head and shot a blank stare into the distance. A half-moon dominated the sky, and my vision.
Bell made a face then turned away from the pile of goop she’d upchucked. “See! I told you that was a bad idea!”
I shook my head, unable to come to terms with the fundamental change to my body’s basic makeup. “What’s wrong with me?”
I stared hard at my wrists and ankles, where during my capture by Ouroboros iron shackles had scarred my skin.
Bell squinted at me, looking for something she didn’t see. “What? There’s nothing wrong with you. What’re you talking about?”
Exasperated, I released an explosive breath. “A misstep like that would’ve crippled a human. How am I still in one piece? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“I thought you were past this,” Bell shook her head. “Are you dumb, stupid, or are you dumb?”
I matched Bell’s golden stare. “Seriously?”
“You know you’re not human, right? Not even a teeny bit. You still haven’t come to terms with it?”
“Well, I—” I stopped.
“Haven’t you wondered why you’ve taken to the Otherworld— to magic— like a fish to water?”
I rolled my wrist. “Because seeing is believing, obviously.”
Bell snorted. “Most humans react to the fae and the Other Side in one of two ways: awe or terror. How do you feel?”
“Fine. I feel fine. Normal. Why?” I asked, the tone of my voice rising.
As if that proved Bell’s point, she smiled and clapped her hands. “Exactly.”
Bell crossed her arms and tapped her clawed fingers on her elbow, waiting.
I’d always known. My eyes, my hair, the color of my skin, I was a world apart fr
om the realm of humans. At best I was seen as different or weird, at worst, cursed. Few would ever accept me as I was, and then even fewer out of pity. I knew that. So why was this realization hitting me so hard? Why now?
I swallowed. “My mother?”
Bell clenched her jaw, then seemed to arrive at a decision. “Your mother… is Titania. She hid you away in the human world for your own safety, fat lot of good that did you. And here you are now, so.”
Titania, faerie queen— and my mother?
I scratched my back against tree bark as I sat down. Staring into my lap, I clenched and unclenched my hands into fists. Pieces fell into place. Titania’s uncharacteristic concern for my wellbeing upon our first meeting, Oberon’s pointed, almost adversarial interest in me.
What a fool I’ve been.
“Uh, hello, earth to Kal~” Bell grabbed my face in her hands and gave it a good shake. “Anybody in there?”
I shook her off. “Yeah, yeah. It’s just a lot to process.”
“Well, if you took some time to think every once in awhile before running off to the next disaster, you might not be blindsided by every turn of events.”
I glowered at her.
Bell pointed at me. “You know I’m right!”
A small man with a pointed conical hat and rosy-red cheeks stepped out from a doorway set flush in the oak’s trunk. “That’s all right and good, but what I want to know is this— what in the blazes are ya doing to me tree?!” The leprechaun looked at the impression I’d made in the oak with discerning eyes. “This—” he hiccuped and took a drink from a mug of cider, “this won’t do!”
“Huh?” I asked dumbly.
The little man stomped his foot. “You’ve gone and done it now! It’ll be your hides for this, both of yas!”
Bell’s tinkling laughter filled the air. “Oh, and how do you intend to deliver on those big words of yours, little man?”
I wanted to kick her. “Don’t antagonize him!” I whispered sternly.
She dismissed me with a wave. “Pfft, watch and learn, I’ve got this.”
Bell flew right up into the leprechaun’s personal space. She was almost the same size as him, maybe a teensy bit bigger. The sylph lorded over the little man.
The leprechaun hiccuped, then rapped his wooden mug against the oak’s distressed wood. “Me? Nuthin. Her, on the other hand…”
The oak’s upper branches shook, sending ruddy leaves cascading through the air, then the trunk itself moved. Like it was made out of putty, the oak twisted and bent so its many branches pointed at us like javelins.
I rubbed my eyes with my forefingers.
With a tender hand and a nervous laugh, Bell patted the oak. “Uh, nice tree, we’re real sorry about the damage. Can you find it in your big old heart to forgive us?”
“Old? Who’re you calling old?” From out the bark emerged a beautiful woman clad in a dress of fresh fallen leaves. Her warm olive skin sparkled with youth. “You sylphs are all the same. Wind sprites are full of hot air, the lot of you, and as wise as a babe. How might I turn this into a teachable lesson for your kind?” The dryad fell into stony contemplation while she thought over her options.
I tilted my head and gave a little nod. “Hmm.”
“Hey, whose side are you on?!” Bell accused.
“Well, she’s right though,” I parroted her phrase back at her, feeling some grim satisfaction despite the looming threat.
“Take responsibility! You’re the one that caused the damage!”
Deep walnut eyes considered me. “Ah, yes, I almost forgot. You,” the dryad’s sharp focus pierced my chest, “you must be one of those dreadful champions on the march across the Darkwood. And must you wear such an inauspicious trinket in my presence? The new god is a psychotic teenager with an ant farm and a magnifying glass playing with his creation, but the sky wizard has no power here, and his symbol is not a welcome sight.”
I realized the Father’s cross was laid bare on my chest. I wrapped a hand around it by reflex. “It belonged to someone important to me.”
The leprechaun spat. “A human priest, no doubt.”
I felt defensive for some reason. “It holds sentimental value.”
The dryad held out her hand. “Give it to me.”
“I don’t want to.”
The dryad’s demeanor turned hard. “Give it to me, and I shall let bygones be bygones and forget this incident ever happened. Refuse and I shall bring all my wrath down upon you.”
I fingered the silver chain.
Bell flew over to my ear and placed a comforting hand on my good shoulder. “Kal, you should give it to her.”
I pulled the chain up and over my neck, and held the tarnished silver cross in the palm of my hand. “It’s all I have to remember him by.”
“Best you forget him, then. His kind is anathema to ours. They call us helions and daemons, all the while transposing our traditions and beliefs into their new religion in order to undermine belief in our existence— you must know this, surely.”
I was aware of the conflict between paganism and the church. I didn’t think that made it so individuals from opposing sides couldn’t arrive at a mutual understanding. And the church’s God… the, sky wizard… wasn’t necessarily malevolent.
“If the priest had known what you are, he would have disavowed you.”
I resented that claim. “How can you be so sure?”
“I am,” she said, her words heavy with simple self-assurance born from experience.
I stared between the dryad, the array of sharp spearlike branches pointed at me, and the Father’s cross.
It’s not worth the fight. It’s not worth the fight. It’s not worth the fight.
My hand was shaking, but I reached out until I was holding Father Gregory’s cross over the dryad’s hand.
My chest heaved, and a tear trickled out the corner of my eye. “What will you do with it?”
“Oh, me? Nothing. Hern, however, has a particular obsession with precious metals, I imagine he’ll melt it down and add it to his collection.”
The little leprechaun seemed to take offense to her characterization.
Hern wiped off foam from his mustache, belched, then opened his mouth to say, “Obsession?! How dare ye belittle me passions. Not an obsession, love! Pure, irreproachable love!”
“Yes, yes. It is as you say. Hern’s love for precious metals will see to it that this offensive thing takes a suitable form.”
I unclenched my fist, letting the cross fall the short distance from my hand to the dryad’s. She handled it like one might a venomous snake, holding it far away from her body with an expression of distaste. With her thumb and forefinger, she carried it away to drop it in the dirt beside where Hern had appeared from the near-invisible door in the tree trunk.
It stung to watch something dear to my heart treated like trash. I wanted to flee this place so I didn’t have to face my decision any longer.
I cleared my throat. “Well, we should be going. Ah, so you know, you can call me Kal. And my companion here—”
Bell interrupted me, “Bell! That’s my name, don’t wear it out!”
“Right, her name is Bell.”
“Well met, Kal, Bell,” the dryad nodded to each of us in turn, “I am known as Claea. If you dare, you may call upon me. Should the occasion suit me, I may even respond,” Claea returned the introduction in a formal tone and with a slight bow of her head.
“So we’re free to go?”
Claea tilted her head to one side to consider me. “Why yes, of course. May your journey through the Nightside be a safe one.”
Claea smiled, serene, and folded her arms against her chest. Hern was tinkering with the Father’s cross in between gulps from his frothy mug of ale, but the little leprechaun was keeping his distance from it for now.
I backed up slow, keeping an eye out for any sudden moves. “Thank you, then we’ll be going.”
“Kal,” Bell’s voice rose in pitch, alarming me.
My stomach twisted into knots.
The sound of pounding hooves and the cries of a hunting party filled the air. In rode a score of riders. Some rode elk, deer, others wild horses, and still others circled in the air above on winged mounts. I saw two hippogriffs and several winged horses, plus some centaurs.
“We’re in for it now,” Bell warned.
“Fight our way out?” I asked.
Bell shook her head. “Best we go with them. They won’t kill us, probably.”
“Real encouraging,” I muttered.
The leader of the hunting party trotted up to us on an impressive black stallion with gold and silver wire worked into its mane. “Claea, you have my thanks for delaying this one as long as you did. After my crows brought me word, we came at speed.”
“Lady Maere, Phantom Queen of Thorns, Guardian of the Night, Herald of Death— it is an honor to be graced with your presence.” Claea bowed and stretched out an arm to point at me with an open hand. “Of course. He’s all yours,” she said, her tone remaining formal.
Power radiated off the faerie queen in waves. Lady Maere had the poise and aura of command to suit a queen, and the perfect, proportioned features that were so common among the fae. Her skin was the color of an overcast day.
“All this for me?” I asked.
“You will have your chance to speak, champion, but until then you will hold your tongue.” Her eyes, deep pools of black with no pupils, struck me.
Pressure emanated from Maere, and my lips sealed shut of their own accord. No matter how I struggled, I couldn’t open my mouth to protest.
I was chilled by the casual display of power, but even more so by the one who wielded it.
Lady Maere was wrapped in a feathered black cloak that hid most her body from view. She had raven-black hair that fell like silk to the middle of her back. Beneath it I could see a bit of an ash-gray tunic. Sensible black leather breeches and boots covered every bit of skin on her legs. A black crow, its eye glistening with alien intelligence, perched on her shoulder. Upon her head she wore a crown of holly with bright red berries interspersed throughout.
