Later, with a small fire going and everyone getting some much needed rest, Coram reminded them of what lay ahead.
“The arrows of Millenten are buried in the Cemetery of Bad Dreams.” He said this with a catch in his throat, his eyes avoiding Meadowrue. “To get there, we’re going to have to abandon the river for a bit. The Cemetery is inland from here. It shouldn’t take us very long to reach it. A day or two at most.”
Rose was aching for sleep, but her mind was still reeling from the day’s events and what was to come. She glanced over at Meadowrue, who had been silent the entire night. She held her head, as if another ball might come rolling out, her face pale beneath the bruises.
Rose thought about how she would have liked a chance to bury her own bad dreams. Bury them deep. But then she realized what it must be like for Meadowrue, when you’ve buried so many and were now going to dig them all back up. Nightmares never stayed buried for long. Soon enough, they had to be faced.
Shortly after sunrise the following morning, the Order came across a strange figure sitting in a chair in a grass field in the middle of nowhere. There was also a second chair, as well as a small fold-out table, deeply worn. Sitting on the table was a glass canister, and trapped inside the canister was a withering fairy.
The group approached cautiously, weapons drawn, unsure what was awaiting them.
The figure had no defining shape, just a long, slender body, with stubble for hair and arms and legs that extended a tad too far. It wore high black boots that were covered in dirt, holes in the soles, buckles that didn’t buckle. The rest of its clothes were also raggedy, falling apart at the seams. The figure sat awkwardly, twisted upon itself and bent over, though its head was raised, its piercing blue eyes staring right at them. It all looked rather painful, like something was trapped inside its body, contorting it. The skin that showed through the holes was bright white, like milk or paint. There were splotches of the figure’s natural color peeking through, but the white had overtaken much of the body, traveling all the way up the neck and engulfing most of its face. It was the Abomination’s disease. And this victim was near death.
When they were close enough, the figure gestured across the table to the empty seat.
“We don’t wish to sit,” Coram said. They stopped twenty yards away, more than enough space to detect and defend against an attack.
The figure shook its head stiffly and pointed at Rose, then again at the chair.
“Me?” Rose asked, a fearful lump building in her throat.
The figure nodded and pointed again.
Rose thought of the others suffering like this person, the refugees along the river, and the countless more to come. “We don’t have time for this,” she said.
Rushing forward, Meadowrue yelled, “Release the fairy!” Her face was flush, her chin jutting forward. She looked like she was about to blow.
The seated figure opened its mouth as if laughing, but nothing came out except for a dry rasp. When this spasm finally stopped—it went on uncomfortably long—it raised its hand, palm out. Then it raised the other. Its mouth twitched, its eyes shut. Suddenly, its head slammed down against the table so hard the glass canister almost toppled over.
The group eyed one another warily as the body seized. It shook as if electrocuted, arms and legs flailing. A dark liquid spilled out its mouth.
“Do we do something?” Rose asked, but no one answered. No one knew what was happening.
When the figure’s body came to rest, a long minute passed. Then it raised its head again. This time its eyes were completely black.
Rose had had enough. “You’re sick,” she said. “Let the fairy go and maybe we can see about getting you some help,” though she doubted this could be done. Something told her its illness was much too far along.
“We don’t have time to waste,” Rose said. “We’re on our way to the Cemetery of Bad Dreams. Please, cooperate or—”
“I know exactly where you’re headed, Rose Coffin.”
No way that voice just came from that body. It was a deep echo, an explosion of sound that vibrated against Rose’s ears. Even Orange Blossom, who had been sitting on her shoulder, jumped down and scurried behind Ridge. It was almost as if the figure was an amplifier for some demonic voice far away.
“The Abomination,” Coram said, the words just barely squeezing out. “That thing is the Voice of the Abomination.”
“H-how?” Rose asked, taking a small step back.
“I’ve heard of this happening once before. The disease, it must have made that poor soul a vessel. This person was probably just an unfortunate merchant caught in the Abomination’s path. Now it’s his voice.”
“I commend you on acquiring the armor,” the Voice said, glaring at Eo, “though I notice it cost the life of the old warrior. I should let you know his corpse is being dug up as we speak. It will be brought to me for dinner.”
A wicked laugh escaped from the figure, and Eo roared in anger. He pulled forward, but Rose grabbed hold of the armor, keeping him back. She placed a hand between the Cobberjack’s ears in an attempt to comfort him, but she could feel how badly he was trembling.
“More will die before you ever reach me,” the Voice said. “I can promise you that. A lot more.”
Rose balled her fists. This creature is the cause of all your pain, Rose. It’s the cause of countless deaths and constant suffering. It’s the reason you’re going to die. Suddenly, whatever fear she had was wiped clean with anger. “We’re ready to give our lives,” she said. “And in turn we’re going to take yours.”
“With what?” the Voice asked, amused. “Those little weapons? A sword and a bow? Armor with tiny spikes? You really think they’ll be enough to take me down? I grow stronger every day. Every passing hour! Soon, nothing will be able to stop me! Not even that voice of yours!” The Voice stood, a crooked stance, and pointed at Rose. “I will squeeze it from your throat.” Then it sat back down, as if in pain, its entire body cracking. “Or,” it said in a stretched, playful syllable. “Or you can just give it to me.”
Rose laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. They all did. Even the Voice. It cackled right along with them, laughing at each one of their faces.
“I know what Queen Sequoia offered you,” it finally said, its laughter snuffed out in a sharp second. “The magic she talks of, the kind that will heal your brother, it’s right here.” It pointed to the fairy beneath the glass. “You can have it, Rose. And it won’t even cost you your life.”
Suddenly, Rose’s breath was stuck in her lungs. She felt as if she were choking, her entire body locking up. What’s happening here?
“Don’t listen to him, Rose,” Coram said, moving close to her. “It’s a trick.” He sounded nervous, panicked almost.
“No trick,” the Voice said. “The magic is in this ancient fairy’s wings. All I have to do is use this body to rip them off and grind them into a fine powder. I will then place it into a pouch, and you will take that pouch back home to your brother, Rose. Sprinkle it over his face and the magic will take effect not long after. Not only will your brother return to your parents, but if you agree to my terms, he will also return to you. You will be together again. A family. The one you so desperately need.”
“I … You’ll let me go back?”
Everyone looked at Rose now. She had stumbled backward, a hand over her heart.
“You’re not thinking of doing this, are you?” Coram asked, reaching out for her.
Rose glared at him, shoving his hands away. “And why shouldn’t I? All you’ve ever wanted from me is my death.”
“That’s right,” the Voice said. “They don’t care about you, about what you need, your wishes and dreams.” Once again, it gestured toward the empty chair. “Join me, Rose. Let us discuss this further.”
Coram gazed at her as she pushed past him, his mouth open in disbelief. “Rose …”
This time she took the seat.
“There is no shame in wanting to live,�
�� the Voice said. “And as you so eloquently stated, what have these people ever done for you?”
“How?” Rose asked, her voice as far away as the Abomination’s. “How do I give you my voice?”
“It leaves when you do. The moment you depart this world, the power in your voice will remain behind. I will consume it as I will consume everything else.”
“And how do I leave?”
“Why, I will take you there myself. Or, rather, this body will.”
Rose looked back at the others. They were all frozen in shock. Eo was whimpering. Ridge kept trying to speak, but nothing was coming out. Coram looked heartbroken, and Meadowrue was clearly filled with rage.
But they didn’t matter right now. Not to Rose. All she could think of was how everything could finally be set right in her life. All the mistakes she’d made, all the time she’d lost with her brother. Her life could be beautiful. Her dreams could come true. After years of confusion, she knew what mattered now.
“Shall we go?” the Voice asked.
Rose hesitated. She knew she should be jumping at the opportunity, but something didn’t feel right. “But … if I do, you’ll destroy everything.”
The Voice dismissed her with a wave of its hand. “What do you care of this place? When you’re old, when you have children of your own, when you’re an aunt to your brother’s children and you’re all together for the holidays, when all your dreams have been achieved, Eppersett will be nothing but a flicker of memory. You will probably question if it even existed at all. None of it will matter to you, Rose. None of it. Because you will be happy.”
Rose picked up the glass case and saw her reflection in it. She didn’t look like herself. Coming here to Eppersett, it turned her into someone else. Someone she had always wanted to be. She wondered if she could bring that presence back home with her.
“Yes,” the Voice said. “It’s all in there. The answer to all your troubles.”
Rose’s image in the glass faded and she could now see the fairy within. Its hands were pressed against the glass, its wings fluttering as it stared back at Rose. Meadowrue had told her about these kinds of fairies when Rose said she thought all fairies were this size. It turned out the tiny ones had mostly died off. The few that were left were quite old, and quite magical. And this one would return Rose’s brother to her.
Rose’s hand traced the glass, her thoughts a whirlwind. Why didn’t she just agree already? What was holding her back? Turning in her seat, she glanced back at the others again. What would they do in her situation? Quite instantly, she realized they could never be in her situation because they weren’t sacrificing themselves to get something in return. They were risking death to make the world a better place and that was it. To save others, not themselves. They were true heroes.
Rose raised the glass, meeting the fairy eye to eye. Her hands were shaking.
“Do we have a deal?” the Voice asked.
Rose looked at the Voice. She looked deep into its black eyes. She didn’t want to see through the diseased darkness and into the eyes of the possessed; she wanted to see straight through to the Abomination. And for a brief moment, she did. She saw it. At the other end of the darkness, she saw the monster. The whites of its eyes. And it was to those eyes she said, “No.” Rising to her feet, she broke the glass against the table, the fairy taking off into the blue sky.
The Voice let out a horrid wail, overthrowing the table with a swipe of its hands. It lunged at Rose, tackling her to the ground. “Then you will die!” it said, inches from her face. “You will die before you ever reach me!” With black drool dripping from beneath each tooth, its hands gripped Rose’s throat and began to squeeze. Her mouth flew open, gasping for air, and as it did she felt something touch the back of her throat, a horrible taste on her tongue. All around her she heard shouting. Seconds later, there was a struggle and the grip around her neck loosened. When she opened her eyes again, Coram was at her side, his sword through the Voice’s chest.
“You … you had me worried there,” he said.
Grasping at her throat, Rose got to her feet. The Order was all around her, concerned looks on all their faces. But not just concern; it was something deeper. She was ashamed for even thinking of abandoning them. “Are you okay?” Coram asked. “Did it hurt you?”
Though her throat burned, she shook her head. They had a mission to accomplish, and she couldn’t allow anything to slow them down. “I’m fine.”
Then, looking at each of them, she said, “I’m not going to run. I’m a fighter. And I fight for my brother. I fight for Eppersett.”
The closer they got to the cemetery in search of Millenten’s bow and arrows, the quieter Meadowrue grew, the slower she walked, the tenser she became. In fact, the tension among all of them was palpable. Rose could feel it squeezing her entire body, her skin tightening around every bone. The air grew colder, and the sun retreated in haste. Vegetation died; animals scattered. It was as if the Abomination had already arrived.
And maybe a part of it had. The Voice hadn’t left her head since the encounter. It was in there now with her own inner voice, threatening her, warning her not to continue, whispering that there was still time to save herself. Sometimes she thought she could feel it running through her mind, rifling through her memories. It kept finding her brother. She feared it might never leave.
At several points in the journey toward the cemetery, Coram had to stop and ask Meadowrue which direction to take, and her response was always given with great reluctance, a simple nod west or south, her eyes deadened.
“You’ve never been here before,” Rose said to Coram, sidling up to him, speaking quietly. She remembered how Coram never dreamed, good or bad.
Eo, wearing the spiked armor and walking very close to Rose, as was his new habit, turned to Meadowrue, who was lagging far behind. “Um, Millenten was a fairy like you, right?”
Meadowrue gave a stiff nod; if there was pride in this relation, she was never going to show it.
“The fiercest one of them all,” Ridge added. “No fear in Millenten, they say! Crazed little fairy! Lived to fight, he did! He was so skilled with the bow and arrow that legend has it he could split a Panatoo from over a thousand feet! He even predicted exactly where the little bugger would be penetrated! Eye, nose, mouth! Wherever he wished!” He looked at Orange Blossom, its face burrowing deep into Rose’s shoulder. “Sorry, friend! That was a different time! You understand!”
Rose’s face was scrunched up in puzzlement. “But that makes Millenten special, not the bow.”
“Oh, Millenten was special, all right! So special that he once saved the wizard Redscale from a clan of Cyclopes! The ones with three arms, not four—the four-armed Cyclopes are just lovely! Anyway, as thanks, Redscale placed a spell on Millenten’s bow and arrows, one of the strongest ever performed! Suddenly, that shot Millenten made at a thousand feet could be doubled! Tripled! His arrows could bend and curve, turn corners, stop and pick up again! Each shot traveled so fast you could hardly even see it! An incredible weapon!” Ridge always enjoyed talking about the legends of others. It was clear how much he respected these stories and the figures at the center of them. The way he spoke, it was as if he yearned to be a part of them, whispered among the trees for all time.
“And it’s buried somewhere in the cemetery?” Rose said, eyebrows raised.
“That’s right! Millenten always said he’d never be done fighting! ‘Bury me in the Cemetery of Bad Dreams,’ he said! Can you imagine?”
“But let me get this straight, we don’t know where, exactly, in this miles-long cemetery of unmarked graves he lies.”
“Not in the slightest!”
“So, we have to dig,” she said, acknowledging the shovels Coram had purchased on Lemonwyll Bridge that were now strapped to Ridge’s back. “But when we do, we’ll be digging up other people’s nightmares.”
“Correct!”
Rose stopped. “And that doesn’t sound crazy to you?”
&n
bsp; “It does!”
Glancing back, Rose couldn’t help but notice Meadowrue stumble. She looked weak, sick to her stomach. It was obvious to everyone, and all conversation dissipated not long after.
An hour later, with the sun gone for the night, the air began to fog over. Within minutes, Rose’s visibility diminished to a radius of five feet, Orange Blossom but a small beacon in that fallen cloud. The group’s pace slowed considerably; everyone was on edge, and the cemetery was near.
Eventually, Rose could make out the branches of a tree through the fog; they were like thick arms embracing the sky. Her neck stretched as she tried to take it all in, but she had to keep stepping back to glimpse it in full. It was an enormous tree, and for a moment, Rose thought that was why Ridge had gasped. But then, as he approached it, his hand reached out and touched the dead trunk in a soft, loving way. His head bowed. There were tears in his eyes, stifled sobs. A moment later, Ridge dropped to his knees.
The tree’s roots spread around them like the tentacles of an octopus. They were largely out of the ground, twisting and turning, diving and rising. They went on and on, Rose’s eyes following each one until she lost them in the fog. The tree was all gnarled and twisted and dead. No leaves, the branches naked and dry.
“It’s a skeleton tree,” Coram whispered to Rose. “It’s all that’s left of Ridge’s great-grandfather, Theebius. When he died, instead of going to the Dead Forest, his wish was to be placed here to keep the bad dreams from escaping. His spirit watches over the cemetery, protecting us all from the return of our greatest fears.” He pointed to the hundreds of objects at the tree’s roots—carvings, food, money. “People leave him gifts whenever they come. Little offerings to show their thanks. Theebius is a legend among legends.”
Stepping closer, holding Orange Blossom aloft, Rose could see the shape of the Willapp in the skeleton, the outline of his arms and legs, the contours of his face, all of it frozen in time. He must have been massive, she thought. Twice the size of Ridge. She reached up and snapped off her necklace, a gift from her father in what now felt like a previous life. Kneeling beside Ridge, she placed it among the other offerings. Even in death they continue to fight, she thought, awed.
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