by Sanan Kolva
He scowled at her. “Short distances, with plenty of time to rest.” His gaze challenged her. “So, aren’t you going to ask why Lord Lucian hasn’t fixed it?”
Cylin shook her head. “He told Leesa that he can’t heal when she brought him that bird. If he can’t heal birds, I expect he can’t heal people either.”
That gave Devin a moment of pause. “So you do listen to him.”
“The fact that he admits he can’t do one of the things legends claim about elves certainly doesn’t prove that he can do anything else.”
Devin rolled his eyes. “Of course not. Why do you refuse to consider that he might be exactly who he claims to be?”
Cylin swept her arm in a gesture to encompass the entire world. “Look at this place. Not Forest Town—everything outside it. The world has gone to utter shit out there, Devin. Seriously, if there are magical people with all those legendary powers, why in drifters’ bones would they let this happen? Why did they let the war destroy everything? Why didn’t they stop the bioweapons and the bombs? Why do we have bone men and wastelands and mutated monstrosities?”
Devin’s shoulders slumped. “Lord Lucian said... that not all the elves like us very much. Some would be happy if every human died. He even told me once that... that he thought some of the destruction in the war was caused by elves. That their influence might have been the reason things actually got as bad as they did.”
“Seriously?” She tried to put a twist of scorn into her voice, but somehow, it came out quizzical and curious instead. “That’s like... pissing in your own well to wreck your neighbor’s crops, isn’t it?”
“Maybe they thought they could fix it after we all died. Maybe they can all do things like whatever Lord Lucian did to make the forest grow here. Maybe they didn’t care. I don’t know. Lord Lucian didn’t say. I don’t think he knows either.”
“So elves don’t just know where each other are all the time or anything?” Cylin asked.
He gave her a long, dubious look that said it was a stupid question. “Of course not. And they don’t all look alike, they don’t all act alike, and they don’t all have the same kinds of magic. They’re people, Cylin, not just flat characters from old legends. Lord Lucian is a person.”
“He is,” she acknowledged. “A possibly crazy person, but he’s a person.”
“He is not—” Devin surged to his feet.
“Devin, he claims his mother is the Black Witch. That doesn’t do much to refute my doubts of his sanity.”
Devin froze, color draining from his face. “Who told you that?”
She didn’t expect the sudden change, nor the alarm in Devin’s eyes. “Um, he did. Earlier today. I was walking and came across him swimming.”
“What did he tell you?” Devin’s voice quavered slightly.
“That she was his mother, that she was an elf, and that she was, how did he put it, ‘the most evil, sick, twisted, sadistic person to ever live on this world.’ Oh, and that she was vile, and that vile is worse than evil.”
“No details?” Devin asked, cautious.
“No, I didn’t ask for details. When someone describes a person like that, I can guess that I don’t really want the details.” Cylin watched Devin, frowning. “What’s it to you?”
Devin let out a shaky breath and sank back down on his rock. “If he’d actually told you details, and you were still walking around and talking about it like it didn’t bother you, I’d be thinking that you were the crazy one.”
Cylin’s eyebrow rose. “So do you know particulars?”
He shuddered. “More than I want to. I know that she did... horrible things, and when Lord Lucian was young, his father and the rest of their clan spent a lot of time running away from her. They... spent a lot of time running away from her or hiding from her until her death, really.” His gaze moved to her face, warily searching for signs that she was laughing at him.
She couldn’t summon scorn. Devin’s stance proclaimed his belief in everything he said. “I’ve met some pretty nasty people. And so have you.” She nodded toward his scars. “She was worse than that?”
“She was worse than that,” Devin said, no doubt in his voice. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
That didn’t mean Lucian was an elf. Plenty of humans had horrible families. Maybe he’d told Devin real things from his own past, weaving them into part of his story of being an elf.
Or maybe there really is truth in Lucian’s claim.
Two handfuls of days passed quietly after her meeting with Lucian at the pool. Cylin continued to work shifts in the fields. It was hot, sweaty work, exhausting in the summer sun, but no one yelled at her or mocked her for not working as quickly as them. No one even tracked quotas, and when she took breaks for water or shade, no one penalized her for it.
When everyone finished for the day and returned their tools to the sheds, Cylin walked back to Forest Town with Aya and her friends. The girls accepted Cylin into their number easily, and didn’t seem to mind that she listened more than she talked. As much as they chattered, she wasn’t sure they even noticed her quiet.
They passed the path to Lucian’s cave. Cylin paused, frowning and wondering if she only imagined a faint vibration in the ground.
Aya glanced back to her. “Something wrong? Did you forget something back at the fields?”
A ridiculous question. Cylin never left her belongings where she couldn’t grab them at a moment’s notice. “No, just--”
A scream echoed from the cave. Cylin’s head snapped toward the slope. The other girls skittered back as if something might tear down the path to attack.
“What was that?” Cylin demanded, hurrying toward the path.
Aya grabbed her arm. “Wait! Cylin, don’t.”
“What do you mean, wait?” She jerked free. “Who was that?” Someone’s in Lucian’s cave. Who? Why? She’d almost dismissed her initial fears that some sinister secret hid in Forest Town’s apparent peace. Now they all rushed back to her.
Devin scrambled down the path, breathless and pale. He stumbled to a stop when he saw them. “Go on home. Nothing you can do here.”
“What’s going on?” Cylin demanded, stepping close and looking him in the eye, the way Pryor did when he wanted answers.
“It’s all right, don’t worry, it’s all right,” he said rapidly. His flushed, sweat-streaked face, wild eyes, and shaking voice belied the words.
“Answer me!”
Another scream rent the air. Devin threw up an arm to block Cylin as she moved toward the path. “Don’t! It’s… Lord Lucian is… he sometimes…”
“Lord Lucian’s... having an episode,” Aya said.
Devin’s head jerked in a nod. “I think it’s going to be a bad one.”
“An ‘episode’?” Cylin interrupted. “What in drifter’s bones does that mean?”
Aya answered before Devin could. “It’s... well... an episode. He doesn’t know where he is or who anyone is. He thinks he’s somewhere else.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Somewhere... unpleasant, I guess. They start like this, with him screaming loud enough that we hear it outside.”
“You mean that’s Lucian?” Cylin looked from Aya to Devin. “And you just leave him alone like this?”
“We can’t do anything to help him. Doctor Kinnel’s tried drugging him, but even that doesn’t work.” Devin swallowed hard. “Cylin, he doesn’t know who any of us are. He thinks we’re...” He shook his head quickly, cutting himself off. “You should go home. It’ll run its course, and things will be quiet again.”
Aya tugged on Cylin’s sleeve. “Come on.”
“Go ahead without me,” Cylin told her.
Aya hesitated, but the sounds from the cave obviously bothered her. She ran back to Forest Town to catch up with her friends.
Cylin fixed her gaze on Devin. “Lucian thinks we’re what?”
“Um...” Devin swallowed hard again. “Thinks we’re pawns of his mother. Thinks we’re here to torment h
im. He wouldn’t hurt anyone intentionally, but when he’s like this... he’s not himself.”
“You’re saying he’s dangerous.”
“When he doesn’t know who you are, and thinks you’re his enemy? When he thinks that he’s defending himself from torture? You’d be dangerous too,” Devin said. “I want to help him, but I can’t! I’ve tried, and... and after the last time I tried, he ordered me not to, because he doesn’t want to hurt me in the midst of one of these.”
Cylin looked at the path again. “Did he order you to stop other people from going up there?”
“No...” Devin said. “But--”
“Then step aside, Devin.”
“It’s not safe!”
“I’ll take that risk,” Cylin told him. She stepped around Devin and started up the slope.
“Why?”
She paused. “He asked me what I was willing to take a stand for. I guess I’m willing to take a stand for not leaving him alone with... whatever is going on. Maybe it won’t make a difference. But I know how to defend myself.” And I need to know, to really, truly know, what’s happening in there.
Devin didn’t say anything, and he didn’t follow her.
When Cylin reached the top of the path, she cast a look over her shoulder. Villagers hurried past, heading for their homes with the haste of people avoiding something unpleasant. Only Devin lingered, shoulders slumped. Cylin wasn’t sure whether she would rather he stayed there or followed her. Either way, she didn’t think he would go home or sleep tonight.
The darkness at the cave entrance hung like an oppressive weight. She felt her way along the wall until the stripes of glowing rock lit the tunnel. At the first side passage, she peered into the workroom, where Lucian had been on her first visit. The room was empty, and the cries rose from deeper in the cave. To her relief, the unnaturally smooth, even tunnel had few branches from the main tunnel, and none of them went far before opening into rooms.
The screams died down to mumbled words, occasionally rising to a shout. Cylin finally found Lucian’s living space. Fur rugs covered the floor of the roomy cavern and glowing rocks provided steady light. Polished stone reflected the light around the room, showing chairs overturned, hides and cushions flung about, and Lucian standing with his back pressed against a wall. His hair hung loose and wild, his eyes darted about. His breath came in rapid pants, and sweat gleamed on his skin. His shirt hung unlaced and untucked.
“Lucian?” Cylin asked, moving toward him.
His amber eyes snapped to her, and Cylin froze, stunned by the raw hate and fear in his gaze. “I am not playing this game. Do you hear me? Not this time.”
“What game? Lucian, I want to help you,” Cylin told him.
He laughed, a hard, mocking sound far worse than his screams. “Help? Oh, I’m sure you do. So Mother’s letting you play this time, Ayliad? I know what your help looks like. Going to ‘help’ me just like you have Chance?” He pushed away from the wall, stalking toward her like a prowling cat.
“Lucian, I don’t know who Ayliad is, or what game you think she’s playing. I’m Cylin. Cylin, from Forest Town. You rescued me from Pryor, remember?” The closer he drew, the more aware she grew of the threat he posed.
“Don’t you?” Lucian retorted. “Then you are just one of her constructs. A mindless minion, here to do your job. You’re here to lead me out? Draw me into the trap?”
“Lucian, I don’t understand!” Cylin burst. “Just tell me! What will it hurt to do that?”
His eyes narrowed. “It will convince you that I’m crazy. Then you’ll call in others to imprison me, for my own safety of course. After that, my dear, sweet, loving, oh so worried sister will come visit me as often as she can. You’ll already disbelieve anything I say. You’ll call it all part of my delusions, and pity me when I tell you what she does when no one is watching.”
“What… what does she do?” Cylin asked, edging back several steps from Lucian.
“She does whatever she wants,” Lucian hissed. “Just like Mother taught her. She knows how to force a man against his will. She’s had all too much practice.”
Cylin blanched. “Your sister would try to rape you?”
“Not try.” Lucian’s voice was stone cold. “She would. She has. She did. And she does it again, and again, and again in these mind-fucks that are Mother’s games.” He screamed at the ceiling. “I know you’re doing this! I won’t play any longer! Fuck yourself, bitch! I hate you! Do you hear me? I won’t be your tool!”
A chair flew from the floor and smashed into the wall, breaking all four legs. Cylin ducked as another followed, sharp fear in her throat. “Lucian, stop! You don’t have to! You don’t have to play her games. She’s not here!”
He eyed her with sharp suspicion. “You’re just a construct. This, all this is in my head, her game, the playground she made for herself in my soul. I know where I really am: chained to a wall in my cell, where she tortures us to draw my father into her net.” Lucian’s eyes narrowed. “So why would one of her constructs tell me not to follow her rules?”
“Perhaps it means that I’m not one of her constructs,” Cylin replied.
She meant that he was not in some dream or hallucination, but Lucian interpreted the words differently. “Not hers? Then… you’re one I created?”
“I’m not a construct, not anyone’s tool, Lucian. I’m your friend,” Cylin said. Cautiously, she held her hand out to him.
He jerked back as if she offered a venomous snake. “You’re in my head. You’re a healer? I don’t know you. How did you get here? You shouldn’t be here. If any of them find you…” He shuddered. “Get out now, while you can.” His gaze was fiercely intent. “You have to find the others. Chance, Dash, and the others. She’s holding them captive as well. Get them out.”
One name she knew, one she did not. “Lucian.” When he didn’t draw back, she cautiously set a hand on his shoulder. “I’m here to help you.”
He shook his head. “She’ll find you.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Cylin said. “All right?” She gave him a gentle push toward the one couch that still had a few cushions. “Sit down. Tell me what’s happening.”
He let himself be steered to the couch, but sat on the floor instead of the cushions. Cylin sat as well, leaving a healthy space between them. “Why are you sure this isn’t real?”
“That cell is the only place I know is real,” Lucian said flatly. “Everywhere else is part of her game, and anything that happens in them serves her in some way. And I know that in every one of them, I will lose.”
She couldn’t imagine what that would be like to so deeply believe that everything was a twisted mind-game and that nothing was real. Does Lucian really go through each and every day waiting for a trap to spring? Waiting for his world to come crashing down? She recalled her own four years in Pryor’s company, always alert, always on edge. I have some idea how that feels.
“Is Chance safe?” he asked softly. “Did you reach him? Did you get him away from her? You have to keep him safe. She hates him.”
“Who does? Ayliad?” Cylin asked.
“No. No, Ayliad just wants to fuck every man she can find whether they want it or not. Mother. Willow. She wants to destroy him, because he dared stand against her.” He closed his eyes, rocking slightly. “She’s hurt him so much, so many times, and he keeps fighting back. He keeps refusing to bow to her.” Lucian’s eyes snapped open. “I have to find him.”
“You will,” Cylin told him. “I believe you. But not right now. You need to rest.”
Lucian shook his head, pushing to his feet. “No, I have to find Chance! He needs my help! You must know where he is.” He looked at Cylin. “Please! Tell me!”
“I don’t know, Lucian,” she admitted. “He’s not here.” She braced for another outburst of anger.
Lucian sucked in a sharp breath, eyes growing wide. “Chance isn’t here? She doesn’t have hold of him? Then he escaped!” Tension fled
his body and he slumped onto the couch. “No wonder she’s furious. Chance got away from her, so she’s taking it out on me.” Lucian cradled his head in his hands. “The bitch.”
“Then you had better be prepared,” Cylin told him. “Rest. Try to get some sleep, Lucian.”
His head jerked up, and his gaze once again grew wary. “I sleep alone.”
“I wasn’t implying anything else!” she said quickly. She understood far better than she wanted to. If his own sister had actually assaulted Lucian like that, Cylin could forgive him for the sharp reaction to the idea of being unaware and defenseless with someone else in his room. “I’ll stay over here. I swear that I will not touch you while you sleep.”
Lucian kept one eye on her as he edged to the bed at the far end of the room. Cylin remained seated on the floor. Lucian settled on the edge of the bed, then, before Cylin’s eyes, stone tendrils rose from the floor, weaving around each other as they climbed to the ceiling and anchored themselves to it, forming a lattice around the bed with Lucian inside. Only then did he finally lie down. Cylin stared at the rock barrier, numb. She had just seen magic worked before her very eyes, yet it failed to amaze her. The horrors implied by Lucian’s words wouldn’t be banished by simply proving he could work magic.
Lucian slept, or appeared to sleep. Eventually Cylin climbed onto the couch and dozed.
She started awake when Lucian stirred. He sat up and blinked at the lattice, then at her. “So, there’s a woman in my room, and apparently my response last night was to hide in the corner with a wall between us?”
His voice sounded steady and very much present. Cylin rubbed her eyes. “You don’t remember? Last night was… not a good night.”
“Judging from the state of the room, I can guess that I had what the people of Forest Town call ‘an episode.’ If that’s what you mean by ‘not a good night,’ no, I don’t remember. I never do. Though I’m told that during them, I tend to talk about my family. And given that I felt a need to raise this barrier, I can even guess who I was talking about.” Lucian rested a hand on the lattice, and it sank back into the floor like liquid.