Wilderwood

by Halli Starling

  ***

  “Bridgeton and Veldersmith are locked down,” Gregory said once he and Bel left the post office behind. The big man gave little away, his massive red beard helping to hide his facial expressions. But there was a tension, syrup-thick and tacky, between them. They understood why. Gregory was Octavia’s closest friend, a comrade for decades, and loyal to a fault. He’d protect Octavia with his dying breath.

  They had fallen into an easy accord once Bel’s relationship with Octavia began to blossom into something more intimate. Oh, he still watched them closely, but it was the confident guard of a man who wasn’t going to stand in the way of his best friend’s happiness. Bel couldn’t blame Gregory for pushing their accord back to the beginning. Worse, even. They’d been gone for two years and then returned from one of the few places even other kind feared.

  And just as Bel was arranging all of that in their mind, Gregory said, “You smell different.” He came to a stop outside the paddock, where their horses stood waiting just beyond. “Not just like magic, either. That makes sense given where you were.” His deep green eyes flicked up to their hair. “That’s different, too.”

  What spilled out of Bel’s mouth was nothing but the godsforsaken truth, and fucking hells it burned. “The Faelands is a terrible place. The things I saw, what I had to do to survive -“

  Bel closed their eyes. It was threatening to come out in one ugly tidal wave. Threatening to expose them. Strip them of their control and joy and courage and leave them a trembling mess.

  “I get it. I do.” Gregory put a hand on the railing and his horse, Possum, nibbled at his fingers looking for a treat. He patted the beast on the nose and said, “Does Octavia know?”

  “Specifically, no.” They looked away, aghast. “I have to tell her, I know. I just wanted…. Bel blinked quickly. “I wanted her back for a little bit. Like it was. When we were good.”

  “I’ve no doubt that’s what she wants, too.” A heavy hand fell on their shoulder. “You were good for her.”

  “I want to be again.” Gods they were close to breaking. Emotion thundered in their chest, an anvil of guilt and consuming worry. But instead, Bel shook their head, straightened their shoulders, and looked Gregory square in the eye. “When the refugees took me in, they showed me what they’d been experimenting with. Taking traits of the strongest, fiercest creatures in the Faelands and extracting the magic from their corpses, hoping it would distill that trait down into something consumable.”

  Gregory’s face twisted into a frown. “That doesn’t sound like a good use of magic.”

  “Oh, it’s vilely intelligent and wickedly clever. But it’s also an experiment, and many times it went wrong. But Ellisar, their leader, was convinced he had the answer after years of testing, so they asked for a volunteer.” Bel looked away, emotion choking their throat for a long moment. “He was an adult, but barely. And he wanted to be so strong, so fast. Like the bwajun, these large cats with dark red pelts. They’re swift and silent and I’ve seen two of them take down a beast four times their size.”

  “The Queen?” Gregory hedged, eyes narrowed. “All just to take her down.”

  Bel shook their head, braids swishing against their coat. “Getting to the Queen is the end game. What you have to fight through is next to impossible. She commands the forests and beasts as long as they’ve declared loyalty to her. But she’d raze it all to the ground in a moment if she thought she could break through to another plane, gain influence beyond her little kingdom.” Their stare burned into Gregory, hot as a brand. “Her thirst for power is like nothing I’ve ever seen. She’d kill a million to gain another mile of land. Even trying to fight against such a force makes one -“

  “Desperate.” He nodded. “I know. Maybe not to that extent, but I know.”

  Bel knew the truth of his words. Old stories shared by old warriors by the fire, brandy in hand, listening to the night pull time to a slow drip. Gregory’s clan grounds had been the site of an epic battle several generations ago. He’d been a child at the time but he’d seen enough death in a handful of hours to rival the most battle-scarred general.

  “Ellisar was desperate. They all were.” They turned onto the long dirt road leading to Wilderwood Manor and the simple sight of the large home in the distance made Bel’s heart pound. “They had these extracts. Traits distilled and bottled from the best available. A fairy’s invisibility, a were’s tracking skills, vampiric strength….” They trailed off, waiting for Gregory to nod in understanding. “They offered me what I wanted most at my most desperate. The ability to hide from the Queen’s hounds so I could goddamn focus for more than an hour at a time.”

  Understanding flitted across Gregory’s face. “You were trying to get back.”

  Bel clenched their fists, the leather of their gloves squeaking with the effort. They felt the stitches strain under the force. “With every fiber of my being.” They turned hazel eyes on him. “I love her. More than I ever thought possible. And knowing I destroyed what we had broke me more times than I care to think on.”

  They walked on, their boots sinking into the mud until Gregory asked, “What happened to that boy? The one who took the potion.”

  “He died.” Bel’s words were hollow. “He wasn’t the first nor the last to perish because of Ellisar’s...tenacity.” They huffed, the sound incredulous. “And when the potion was final and everyone took it, I followed suit. It was my only way to try to fight back if I was to get the fuck out of there.”

  Gregory’s expression was dour. “And the catch is….”

  “I’m faster, I’m more sensitive to smells, and my magic is stronger now. I might start sprouting feathers, who knows? But if I ever go back to the Faelands I’ll become one of them. It’s an inactive curse. And we only realized it once we all took the potion. You can stay in the Faelands and keep the transformation at bay, and if you return you become the thing you sought to learn from. To gain from.”

  They arrived at the manor’s main doors and Gregory put a heavy hand on Bel’s shoulder. “You need to tell her.”

  “I know.” They looked away, weak sunlight glinting on their many piercings. “I’ve been a coward. I only wanted everything to return to the way it was. Selfish, I suppose, to wish for that.” Bel’s smile was sad. “And now all of this. It’s no coincidence.”

  Gregory inclined his head. “It can’t be. The Queen must have plans.” He sighed, face drooping. Bel could see how tired he was. “All right. Stay here, wait for Octavia. She’s coming back with the other Ranger to start securing the manor and the grounds. They’ll need help. Some folks who have nowhere to go are moving into the manor and the rest are leaving for other places. The town’s locked down, which means we can focus on hunting whoever is responsible.” His eyes sparked with anger and Bel felt it frisson down their back. “This whole fucking thing is testing my patience. I’m going out with the scouts tonight, see what we can find.”

  “I should go with you -” Bel said as they stepped forward, but Gregory shook his head.

  “I need you here, Bel. You’re a gifted fighter and you can keep everyone safe. Octavia’s got a few things she needs to focus on. You and Roderick can protect people.” That hand on their shoulder squeezed. “Right?”

  Bel nodded, throat suddenly dry. “Of course.”

  “Good.” With a final nod Gregory walked back into the hazy gloom of late afternoon, leaving Bel to stare after him.

  Twelve

  Three years ago

  Wilderwood was the quintessential small countryside town. Bel loved it the minute they stepped foot on gently curving roads and smelled hay and sunshine and lavender. It was the kind of place their family would have scoffed at as “lesser” or “common”, but their lives were contained within marbled, gilded halls where footsteps echoed like blasts and servants traded gossip behind cupped hands.

  Their lives were empty. Bel’s was not.

  Though there was an ache in their chest, one that couldn’t be filled by
purpose to the Rangers or even knowing their duty saved lives. Bel shared sporadic moments with lovers but it was fleeting. The physical was pleasant; the lingering hollowness left something to be desired.

  Bel passed neat, tidy homes where people worked outside in gardens, shored up shutters, and shooed children to play somewhere else rather than underfoot. They got a few looks - the sword on their back always gave people pause - but otherwise Bel was left to wander. After turning a few blind corners, they stopped a kindly looking young woman with bright blonde hair and huge blue eyes. “Pardon but I’m looking for a tavern or an inn of some kind. Do you have such lodgings here?”

  The young woman brightened and adjusted the basket on her arm. “Oh yes! Let me walk you.” She had to look up to smile at Bel. There was no hesitation, no worry; just open friendliness. It was a decidedly welcome change from how people usually viewed them. Armed and armored typically meant trouble.

  “I’m Ruby, by the way,” the woman said with a quick nod that made her braid bounce. “I’m going to take you to The Drake’s Rest. It’s really the only place in town but the rooms are nice and Mama Stockton makes the best stew.”

  Bel put a hand to their heart and bowed. “Bellemy Eislen. I’m a Ranger.”

  The woman didn’t blink but she did give Bel another once-over. “I kinda wondered, gotta admit. Haven’t had a Ranger in these parts for some time.” Ruby’s elfin face dropped. “Is there something wrong?”

  Bel shook their head. “It’s more of a scouting mission than anything else. But I would like to speak to your alderperson or mayor, if possible.” They looked down the next street Ruby led them to. “Is there an office they use or a town hall perhaps?”

  Ruby chuckled and when Bel gave her a surprised look, the woman’s laugh grew louder. “Oh, you’re probably used to them ol’ sticks in the mud, prim and proper kind of town leaders. Wilderwood’s not like that.”

  “You have no town elder or mayor?”

  Ruby tucked the basket on her arm higher. “I work for her. Though she’d hate it if you called her mayor or some such thing. I’ve got one more errand to run and you can stop by The Drake’s Rest.” She motioned to the hill beyond the town, where a large manor loomed in the distance. “I can let Octavia know you’re here and I guarantee she’ll have you up for dinner. No lavish thing. She’s not like that.” Ruby gestured to Bel’s armored finery. “That’ll do just fine. I’ll be back around dark, meet me in the common room then?”

  Ruby left a baffled Bel in front of a large, cheery inn, the sign proudly bearing the place’s name swinging overhead in the summer breeze. They got a room inside, paying the large woman behind the counter, receiving an iron key and a grunt in return, and then settled in the tidy little room at the end of the hall. It was a far better room than they’d had cause to stay in at most places and there was even a large copper tub with running water.

  Bel could get used to such treatment. It paled in comparison to how they grew up, but a life as a Ranger, on the road and never settling down, was what they liked.

  Night fell and Ruby was true to her word, talking to a handsome young man at a table when Bel approached. “All right then, off we go!” the young woman said with a grin. “Octavia knows you’re coming and Harken’s off with his momma. I’ll get dinner out for you and then you’ll be alone to do whatever Ranger business you got going on.”

  Ruby chattered the whole way up to the manor, pointing out the farms and windmill, the new gardens and horse stable. The open air smelled of hay and dirt; honest scents that stirred something deep in Bel’s gut. They grew up pampered and perfumed but largely ignored until they came of age and their parents tried to foist Bel off on a young man as equally unenthusiastic about marriage. Bel ran off to the Rangers and that was it.

  They’d never been fully disinherited but they’d long ago cut off most contact. It wasn’t worth the distraction, or the heartache.

  Ruby let them into the manor’s front door and already Bel’s senses were going haywire. The lady of the house might not stand on propriety but letting a servant come and go through the front door as they pleased seemed horrifically off-kilter. They took a deep breath, reminding themself that wasn’t their world anymore.

  The scent of orchids floated down a long hallway to them and Ruby nudged Bel forward. “She’s in the salon, Ranger. Door’s open so just step on in. I’ll bring dinner round in a bit.” Then Ruby bounced away humming and left Bel to stand in the beautiful foyer with its polished staircase and long dark green rugs. They sighed, resigned to their fate, and walked to where light splashed out against the deep shadows of the house.

  “I’m sorry to intrude,” Bel said as they neared the doorway. “Ruby let me in, Lady Wilder. I’m the Ranger -“

  “Please, Ranger. Do come in.”

  Bel stepped inside the doorway and got their first proper look at Octavia Wilder. She was standing beside a massive birdcage, willowy and almost ethereal in the candlelight, dressed in a dark grey high-necked blouse, black riding pants, and black boots. Her gloved hands, delicate looking even from a distance and encased in dark red leather, were used to hold and stroke a stunning blue and gold macaw. And then she turned her head and locked russet brown eyes on Bel and their breath caught in their chest.

  She was beautiful.

  Deep maroon lips parted in a smile. “Ranger. A pleasure.” Octavia gestured to the low-slung couches. “I had tea brought in but there’s also wine in the decanter. Let me put Macon back in his home and I’ll get whatever you want.” Octavia fussed with the bird while Bel wandered through the room, slightly stunned and utterly charmed by their surroundings and the woman in its center.

  Octavia got them wine and settled on the couch opposite Bel. “Now, what brings a Ranger to Wilderwood?”

  ***

  They reconvened at night at the manor. The atmosphere was tense, but Ruby and Gregory were doing what they could to help bolster spirits. No one really knew what was going on, but if Octavia said there was danger, they didn’t doubt it.

  A few dozen people had taken up in the various bedrooms and in the salons. The house was huge, easily capable of holding more. But most with families had gone off to nearby towns. Octavia had seen the tears, the hesitation, the fear. They wanted to know their homes and farms and businesses would be there when they returned. But missing hunters and melted cows and a renegade feral vampire mixed up in all of this was enough.

  Octavia could feel every bit of news gnawing at her, opening a wider, deeper void that threatened to pull her in. Exhaustion blurred her vision and tension took up a permanent home in her shoulders.

  The sisters would stay until this was over, and at least Rowan would depart. That would leave them with new wards for a year and the sudden urgency to find a way to renew them once the time came. Gregory’s clan was scouting the town and woods but under strict orders not to engage with anything from the Faelands should they find it. She’d drug out from the vault a set of sending stones, letting Gregory disperse them as he saw fit. He’d also send word to nearby clans and reinforcements were coming; but the mayors of Veldersmith and Bridgeton were not interested in getting involved.

  And no amount of scolding or shouting, or even warnings from Octavia, could keep their selfishness at bay. The town was protected as best it could be and she had to trust that those mayors would do their best for their towns as well.

  The house bustled with nervous energy and it was hard not to feel it in her bones, in her teeth. Octavia palmed the crystal Rowan had given her and, standing in front of the main door to the house, held it out.

  Roderick and Bel watched carefully, their eyes drifting more often than not to the horizon. “Do you know what’s happening?” Roderick asked Bel, edging closer to the taller Ranger. “Is it a ward?”

  Bel shook their head, brushing back their braids. “All Octavia ever said was it’s old witch magic. Pulled from the land and the trees, laid down when her ancestor built this place.”

  �
��Tied to their bloodline,” Roderick speculated and Bel inclined their head. “Amazing. I wish the Rangers taught disciples about….any of it. So little prepared us for what the road was really like. The things we’d see.” Something in his dark eyes went sad. “That it was all right to embrace the unknown instead of chasing it down to put a blade in its neck.”

  Roderick’s words spoke to something Bel had carried in their heart for a very long time. They’d enjoyed almost every minute of their studies, of their training; even when it left bruises on their body and gave them headaches from translating ancient scrolls with tiny handwriting. So much of the world was unknown, magic even more so. The Rangers consulted with experts, hired many of them to teach disciples what they needed to know. But diversifying the professors, expanding the curriculum, teaching more than theory and fighting….

  The Rangers could actually be a force to be reckoned with, instead of a harbinger for trouble.