by Elle Casey
Chapter Eighteen
SOMETHING WAS CRAWLING IN MY pants. I have ants in my pants. Please, God, don’t let them be fire ants. At the same time I was trying to wiggle my butt around and kill those pervert ants, I worked really hard at forcing my eyelids open, but they didn’t want to cooperate. Finally, after straining my entire face, a sliver of light got in and whatever crust was connecting my eyelashes started to give way.
“Ehhhhh,” I moaned, wanting really badly to use my fingers to pry my lids open, but my arms wouldn’t work. They were trapped under a blanket or tied to the bed or something. Someone wants to die, I guess.
“Easy, now,” said the male voice I remembered from earlier. “You’re better now. Just go easy.”
“Better?” I croaked out. That couldn’t mean anything good if this was an improvement. This dude better not have touched my private parts while I was out of it, or he was going to be missing some family jewels when I got out of this bed.
Something touched my lips and a droplet of moisture leaked past to my tongue. I probably looked like a crazy frog, but I didn’t care; I sat up as much as I could and reached greedily for the water being offered, my mouth open as wide as it would go. As the delicious water hit my throat, I decided I might forgive him for touching my girly parts, so long as he didn’t enjoy it too much. I’d never tasted anything so delicious. Obviously my dehydration had caused me to burn a few brain cells off.
“Not too much or you’ll vomit again,” he said.
“Again?” I laid back down on the bed and sighed. “That’s what I’m all about … making good first impressions.” My last words faded out into a whisper. I just didn’t have the strength to keep up the conversation. At least I didn’t have to worry about being violated while I slept; there’s nothing less sexy than being coated in vomit as far as I was concerned. I kept trying to lock onto a clear idea of what was going on, but my brain continued to swim around, making it impossible. I probably should have been more worried about where I was, where my friends were, and who this person was helping me out, but I couldn’t get my mind past the idea that I was nearly powerless. I hadn’t felt this way since Leck had hosted me as a guest in his B&B. It made it too easy to surrender to the pain and my inevitable death, rather than fight it.
“Do you know your name?” he asked me.
“Jayne.” I tried to sit up again, but he pushed me down. That made me cranky enough to find the strength to open my eyes. My vision was blurry at first, but then things came into focus. I was inside a hut of some sort, and the man or boy taking care of me had turned his back to me.
“Where am I? Where are my friends?” Seeing things helped me focus. I fell back onto the bed, or the pile of covered straw I was in —bits of it were poking me through my tunic— already sweating from my puny efforts. I closed my eyes, not interested in looking at my arm. It was burning, which told me that the stupid, self-inflicted wound was still there and still very angry. Apparently, troll saliva did not heal demon sword cuts. I was grateful at least that he hadn’t eaten it, because obviously, a burning, painful arm was better than no arm at all.
“They’re here,” was all he said.
“Are they okay?”
He didn’t answer right away, so I opened my eyes again. He was in the process of turning back toward me, and it was then that I realized he wasn’t exactly a man or a boy … he was somewhere in the middle — my age or maybe a little older, wiry in build, dressed in clothing that had to be homemade from burlap or animal skins or something, and his hair was a pile of tangles on his head.
“In a manner of speaking, they are all right. Most of them.”
His words made me go into instant panic mode. A thin scratchy blanket was over my legs and waist, the thing holding my arms captive. I grabbed it with my uninjured hand and threw it off me, forcing my legs over the edge of the rickety bed frame that held the straw mattress. The handmade furniture swayed dangerously with my efforts, but in the end, held up.
“You can’t get up yet. You’re too sick.” He looked pointedly at my arm.
I followed his gaze, much as I didn’t want to. My forearm was wrapped in material, smaller knotted strips holding on larger swathes from my wrist to my elbow. It looked better than I had expected it to. “What this?” I held my arm up. “It’s just a flesh wound.”
His eyebrow went up. “A flesh wound? Surely you jest.”
“I jest?” His speech matched his clothing. Old and weird. “No, I don’t jest. Trust me, I know. I made the cut myself.”
He tilted his head. “Why would you do such a thing? Are you not happy? Do you not want to live?”
“It’s a long story. Really long. I need to go see my friends.” I sat up straight and reached up to touch my head. Oh my. I don’t think my hair has looked this bad in … ever.
“I will take you to your friends later. Now, you must drink and eat to gain your strength.”
“I’m not hungry.” My stomach took that opportunity to growl really loudly.
He stared at me until I couldn’t take it anymore. I caved, sighing heavily.
“Fine.”
After five minutes of more rest, the man-boy handed me a plate and a small, narrow flat thing I assumed was supposed to be a fork or spoon or something, both of them made of wood. The food in the middle of the plate was unidentifiable. I poked at it to be sure it wasn’t still alive.
“Sorry. I am not the most talented at the hearth. It is usually just me who eats what I make.”
I took a bite and chewed, even though my eyes started to water with the odor coming into my nose from the plate. “No, it’s great.” Swallowing took effort, but I managed somehow. This meat or whatever it was had a very distinct stench to it. Something similar to skunk. I was never going to mock the fae buffet line again.
“You lie to protect my feelings.” He squatted down on his heels to look me in the eye. “Why?”
I shrugged, chewing on something that I was pretty sure was gristle. “I don’t know. Don’t you?” Please don’t let this thing in my mouth be an eyeball.
“Yes, I do, but most people I know do not.”
He had the prettiest green eyes. They were easy to appreciate when set against his very dirty and sun-bronzed skin.
“Sounds like you live with a bunch of assholes.”
He thought about it for a few seconds and then grinned, revealing teeth that probably should have seen the toothbrush a few hundred more times than they had. “The holes of asses. I like that. I shall use it next time Dalys jests with me about my odor.”
I inhaled and caught a whiff of it. “Your odor? What is that anyway? Sulfur?” Maybe the guy sold boiled eggs for a living or something. Another glance around the room told me he wasn’t much of a businessman if this was all he had to show for his efforts.
He slowly reached out and took my hand, pulling it away from my plate and turning it over. I chewed the gristle slowly, waiting for him to speak first. He was looking down at my dragon-scaled palm.
“I think you must know why I smell like the inside of a volcano.”
Leaning over toward the plate, I spit the non-food out. “You’re friends with a dragon?”
A grin slowly spread across his face at the same time his hand came up toward me, palm out. Embedded in his skin was a greenish-gold dragon scale. My heart started to race. Where in the hell am I?
“I would call Othello something other than a friend, but yes. And you? What is your dragon called?”
“Uhhh, my dragon is called Biad. But she’s not really my dragon.”
“A she-dragon?” He sounded really excited about the idea for some reason.
“Yep. A kinda cranky one, actually.”
“What is cranky?”
Hmmm, how does one describe a beast who always gets her way, forces me to live with her in hell, and fuses dragon scales to my body without warning… ? “Let’s just say she’s moody. She has mood swings that aren’t exactly predictable.”
The bo
y-man moved his stool closer. “Is she here? Is she seeking a mate? Is that why you were on the ground and beaten? Did she drop you when she heard the call of her potential mate? Perhaps it was Othello she heard.”
“Whoa, slow down, dude. I just woke up and you’re not making any sense.” I put the plate on the end of the bed and worked my way up to standing. The boy moved out of the way, watching me but not saying anything. “Thanks for the meal. It was delish.”
“You mock me.” His face lost some of its glow.
I shook my head. “No, I’m serious. I’m just not that hungry. I need to see my friends.” I paused. “What was your name again?”
He stood, looking angry now. “You mock me again, just after you say you do not mock me. What kind of game is this for a woman to play? Are you cruel?”
I shook my head slowly, starting to wonder if I was being punked. No one could be this clueless and not be in on some kind of plan. “I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I decided then and there that things could go really south with this guy, and then I wouldn’t have any way to defend myself if I wasn’t ready. Time to test the linkage, yo. I reached out for The Green, praying it was here with me in this fucked up place.
A spark hit me in the middle of my chest, making me gasp. “Holy shit,” I said, grasping at my boob as I lost my balance and started falling backwards. I hadn’t been expecting the sharp energy that rushed into me at the slightest request for a link with my element. I landed on the straw cot, which unfortunately collapsed as soon as I hit it. I ended up on the floor with bits of broken wood all around me and straw poking me in the back of my neck.
“What happened? Are you all right?” The boy was half standing with his hands outstretched toward me like he was going to catch me, a shocked look on his face.
I nodded, taking one of his hands so I could stand back up again. I grunted with the pain and the effort it took. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just knocked myself on my ass. Won’t happen again.” Okay, so obviously I’m not in Kansas anymore. Maybe not even on planet Earth. The Green or whatever it was called here was nothing like it was back home; it was stronger, clearer, and way more powerful. How could that even be possible? Elements are elements — they can’t be stronger or weaker, can they? The gray elves were going to have a field day with this puzzle if I ever got back to tell them about it. This thought made me think of Tony and how badly I needed to find him.
I had to get on this guy’s good side so he’d take me to my friends. “So, uh, what’s your name?” I smiled as best I could considering the pain lancing through my arm and the leftover ache from the self-induced heart attack I’d just nearly given myself.
“My name is Ishmail, but you may call me Ish.”
I ran through our earlier misunderstanding and realized what I’d done. “Ohhhh, I get it. When I said I thought the meal was delish before, you thought I was mocking your naaaame.” I grinned. “Cool name, by the way. Mine’s Jayne.”
“Yes, I know. We have already exchanged pleasantries.”
“Oh. Sorry. I forgot.” I looked around. “So where am I exactly?” I tested out my legs and found they were working well enough to get me to where I needed to go. I began heading for the door like it was no big deal. No escape happening here, just me stretching my limbs. Ish stood and followed just behind me.
“You are outside the village of Kenrack at the bottom of the mountain of Mortan which is inhabited by my dragon Othello. He is currently not in residence as he is seeking a mate. Perhaps he has found your dragon.”
I shook my head. “Doubtful, since I don’t think she’s in this realm.” Or this time. Where in the hell am I? I knew I wasn’t in any country on the map I’d seen in geography or world history class. Nobody dressed like that anymore who spoke English unless they were living on a hippy commune. I thought about that for a second and decided that maybe I could be on a hippy commune. But that didn’t explain the dragon smell all over him.
“Are you fae?” I asked as he came around in front of me to open the door.
He flipped the wooden latch and turned to me, his face pink. “No, I am not fae. What kind of question is that to ask a person you have only just made the acquaintance of?”
I blinked a few times, sure I was missing something again. “What if I told you I’m fae?”
He shrugged, his face going redder, and his words came out kind of stuttered. “I would … eh … tell you that this is your business and what you do in your chambers is of no import to me.”
It took me a few seconds to put it all together, but then when I did, I couldn’t stop laughing.
“I don’t understand.”
“Never mind.” I patted him on the shoulder and moved to go through the door. “I’ll explain later after I see my friends, if you’re still confused.” I couldn’t worry about semantics right then with this guy. I had to get to my friends and find a way to get back to the Isle of Skye and the portal to the Underworld before Biad got pissed and did something terrible. I’d been fighting this battle alone for too long as it was and had already proven I wasn’t up to the task.
I wasn’t expecting the sunlight to be quite so harsh outside the hut. I had to close my eyes for a few seconds to give them time to adjust. When they finally did, my vision was filled with … bushes. Lots of bushes. We were surrounded by greenery of every shade, including black and brown. I walked over to the nearest one and touched one of its prickery parts. “This is blackthorn, isn’t it?” It sent a sizzle of hope through me. Maybe we’re not that far from the portal.
“Yes, it is. Said to have magical properties.” He stopped just next to me, his handmade shoes shuffling the gravel and making a small patch of dust rise up to gather around his ankles.
I looked up at him. He seemed much taller out here than he had inside. “Please take me to my friends. I think they need me.” Everything was coming crashing into my brain; the fact that no one had come looking for me, that I was in a really weird place were The Green didn’t act right, and that this guy claimed to have a dragon as a friend or partner or whatever. Something was really, really wrong. I had a feeling I was about to take a trip down a yellow brick road, and who the hell knew what the great and powerful Oz was going to look like in this place; my guess was he wasn’t going to be a tiny, powerless man with an ego problem.
Chapter Nineteen
“FOLLOW ME,” ISH SAID, CHOOSING one of the several paths available through the blackthorn and other harsh-looking bits of landscape. No wonder the guy was covered in dirt. That’s all there is here. I both walked and stumbled behind him, experimenting all the while with pulling The Green up into me. At first it was too difficult, and I had to keep shutting our connection off. Then as I realized I had to imagine our relationship in a different way, it started to become more manageable. This New Green was waaaay more sparkly than the one I was used to. It was … younger. It was then that I started thinking I’d time slipped again, but this go-around it was way more serious than just re-living the last five minutes. Please, God, don’t let there be any dinosaurs here.
“So, what’s the year?” I asked my guide.
He leaped over a small ditch that had a weak trickle of water running through it. “I do not understand your question.” He held his hand out to assist me as I stepped gingerly over the stream.
“Don’t you have a calendar here to keep track of the days and seasons of the year?”
He let me go, waiting for me to be steady on my feet again before walking on. The little link I had going with The New Green was quickly bringing my energy back up to regular levels, but I wasn’t exactly solid on my still somewhat wobbly legs.
“I have lived nineteen cycles of the seasons, if that is what you mean.”
“That works.” But it didn’t tell me shit about where I was — only that it was before calendars were kept or that I was somewhere where they hadn’t heard of calendars. Weird. “I’ve lived nineteen years… I mean, seasons too.”
He
laughed.
“What’s so funny about that?”
“If you have only lived nineteen seasons, then you would be much shorter and not nearly so well-spoken.”
It took me a couple seconds and some quick math to figure out what the hell he was saying. “Oh. Okay, fine. Nineteen cycles of the seasons.”
“You can say turns of the seasons if you prefer.”
“Or I could just say years.”
“What is a year?”
“A year is a full turn of the seasons.” I was about to continue on with an explanation of the months of the year and all that crap, and then I realized it would all be just a huge waste of breath. I wasn’t about to spark the invention of the Gregorian calendar today, and I had other more important things to do anyway. “Just take me to my friends, if you could, please. I need to get out of here.”
Trees started to appear among the bushes, bringing with them very welcome shade. Ish pushed a large, hanging branch out of my way so I could precede him. “Where will you go?” he asked. He said it in a way that made me think it would disappoint him for me to leave. Poor kid. Probably didn’t see many people with dragon scales in their hands. It made me wonder how he got his and whether he was guarding a portal in his world.
Portal! I have to find the portal! The memory of what I was supposed to be doing came back full force to haunt me and stress me out, along with a vision of a whole council filled with angry fae glaring at me. The time to meet Biad was coming soon in my time. Did my clock match up with the one here, or was I fast forwarding? I couldn’t help thinking about the rabbit in Alice in Wonderland— I’m late! I’m late! For a very important date!
“I have to go back to my time. I’m not from here, Ish.”
“That is what I assumed when I saw your clothing.” He pointed to my jeans. “The material is strong.”
“They’re called jeans. They’re made of denim.”
He nodded and paused in front of a very large branch blocking our way. Placing his hand on it, he waited until I had caught up and was standing close. “I do not want you to be alarmed at what you see.”