Fairmist

by Todd Fahnestock

  “Listen to the girl,” he said.

  “I won’t leave her, Blevins,” he said. “I love her.”

  Blevins rolled his eyes and let his stolen sword fall to the ground. He grabbed Grei with bloody hands and flung him onto the back of the horse. Blevins slapped its flank and barked another order in Venishan. The horse leapt forward. Grei clung to its mane with his good hand to keep from falling.

  “Not towards the Dead Woods!” Adora shouted.

  Blackened trunks whipped past Grei as the horse ran. The reins dangled from its mouth, swinging back and forth. Grei fought to keep his seat. To his left, between the burnt trunks, two riders approached the wagon, clouds of dust rising behind them. He looked to the right and saw two more.

  Blevins had his sword again, and he walked deliberately toward the two Highblades closing in on him. Grei could also see the wagon master running away from the wagon for all he was worth.

  I’ve got to help, he thought. There has to be an answer—

  Suddenly, Selicia surfaced from the earth lake, yanking herself onto the hard bank and rolling free. She sprang to her feet, clumps of dirt falling from her.

  Grei yanked on the horse’s mane, but the beast kept pounding between the burnt trunks, heading toward the pines. He swiveled back.

  Selicia leapt toward Adora, who raised the sword. The Ringblade crouched, dodged, and kicked out viciously. Adora’s head snapped back, and she crumpled.

  “No!” Grei shouted.

  Like a dancer, Selicia spun out of the kick into a dead run, unhooking her Ringblade from her belt. She went five paces, drew back her arm and threw. Sun glinted off steel as the ring shot between the trees. Grei was at least two hundred paces away, but it sank deep into his mount’s back leg. The horse screamed and lurched, catapulting him into the air. He threw his hands up over his head and smashed into the ground, tumbling to a stop at the base of a charred trunk.

  Dazed, he lay there. His ears were ringing, and he tried to shake his befuddlement. Dust rose all around. The horse was screaming, thrashing on the ground. Before him, the scabrous pines of the Dead Woods loomed.

  Grei grunted and pushed himself to his knees. His whole body ached, warning him to move slowly. He looked back. The riders had almost reached Blevins. Selicia was closer, still sprinting, arms pumping at her sides. She was almost to the screaming horse. The woman was unstoppable. And Adora...

  They’ll keep us to bait you back. Run and you have choices. Stay and you have none.

  Staggering to his feet, he plunged into the Dead Woods.

  Chapter 25

  Grei

  Darkness dropped over him like the sun had set, thick limbs cutting off the daylight. He sprinted through the trees, dry branches striking his face, his arms. He ran until his lungs and legs burned.

  Gasping for breath, he stopped and put his hands on his knees. Sinister whispers slithered through his mind, growing louder, then softer, then louder. Dry pine needles covered the forest floor, and he couldn’t see the bright Badlands anymore.

  He would double back, come up with a plan as soon as he could think clearly. His clouded head was slowly returning to normal. What had happened to him at the wagon? The moment he’d used his magic, it had made him stupid. It had never done that before. His mind had dulled until he could barely keep hold of his own name. What had changed?

  Something moved ahead, and Grei sank to a crouch behind a tree.

  Selicia flitted from one shadow to the next, barely visible. She breathed smoothly and evenly as though she hadn’t just sprinted a mile. He tried to keep his own breathing silent, but her dark gaze fell on him.

  “You’re full of surprises, Master Forander,” she said.

  “I work hard at it.”

  He kept close to the tree in case she threw something.

  She opened her hands in a peaceful gesture and stopped twenty feet away from him. She did not make any threatening movements, but he didn’t believe her posturing for a second. He’d seen how fast she had crossed the distance from the caravan to the Dead Woods, and she was barely out of breath. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she said.

  “That’s what I want, too. Let’s work together.” Grei’s eye began to twitch.

  “Very well.”

  “Set my friends free.”

  A glimmer in one of her open hands drew him, and there was suddenly a dagger there. These Ringblades and their hidden daggers. Where had it come from?

  “You’re very convincing, Master Forander. I felt you in my head at the falls, persuading me. If I feel you again, I will do what I must.”

  Grei was overmatched. His only weapon against her was magic, but he wasn’t going to use it until he figured out why his mind had gone numb. He tried to buy time.

  “You said the emperor wants to see me. Why?” he asked. He squinched his twitching eye shut, then opened it again, forcing it to stop.

  “I think you know why,” she said.

  So much for that. “I didn’t know that Ringblades—”

  The whispers of the trees suddenly became screams, stabbing his ears. He shouted and put his hands to his head.

  “Wait!” He held up a hand to Selicia.

  Behind her and all around, the forest suddenly filled with shadows shaped like people. They crept into sight, hundreds of them. Angry eyes glowed in blurred faces. Greens and browns flowed over their black bodies.

  The screams vibrated into one, clear tone.

  “Kill them.”

  Selicia leapt at Grei, taking advantage of his helplessness, oblivious to the horde around them.

  The shadows expanded in silent puffs of smoke, their bodies elongating across the distance. Arms turned into claws. The nearest flew into Selicia and passed through her.

  She cried out, the flat pommel of her dagger missing Grei by inches. She stumbled past him and crashed to the ground.

  A shadow flowed through Grei’s chest, and its claws raked inside his body, slashing his heart, his lungs, his bowels. He screamed and fell to his knees. Images washed through him. He saw trees burning, and they keened pitifully as they were consumed. All that was left were these angry spirits.

  The sudden agony vanished. Grei fell forward onto his hands and knees. His entire body was covered with sweat. He heard Selicia’s growl as she fought the pain.

  “We haven’t come to hurt the forest!” Grei gasped. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and the figure rose up before him. The closest shadow formed into the smoky shape of a woman, standing with hands spread wide, about to grab him. Her shifting skin matched the tree to her left.

  “He hears us,” she said.

  “He sees us,” another echoed.

  “Humans do not hear us,” a third hissed.

  “Please, we’re not here to hurt your trees!” he shouted again.

  “We are the trees, manling,” the woman said. Her form solidified. She cocked her hips, resting her hands there. The mannerism was hauntingly familiar, but he could distinguish no features on her shadowy face.

  “We don’t want to hurt you,” he said again, trying to catch his breath.

  “That is a lie,” she said.

  The other shadows began to take shape again, standing over Selicia, who trembled as she clambered upright. She held the dagger in front of her, but not in the right direction. She turned slowly, looking for her attackers.

  “Kill them,” one of the shadow women said.

  But none of the others moved. They seemed to be waiting for the one who had attacked Grei, who stood closest to him.

  “Wait,” she said.

  Wails of suffering went up from some of the shadows. The sound was so sharp that Grei bowed his forehead to the ground, pressing his hands against his ears.

  “He hears us. He hears our pain,” the leader said.

  “Kill them!” the voice behind Grei insisted. Grei craned his neck about. This shadow woman was not as clearly defined. Her glowing yellow eyes were larger.

  The leader moved toward
him, hips swinging, and again he was struck with familiarity. He knew that walk. She stopped in front of him, her skirt swishing as she leaned over him.

  Her smoky features solidified into Adora’s face. Light fingers touched him, slithering down over his head like warm oil.

  He felt no pain. Everything went dark.

  Chapter 26

  Adora

  Adora awoke and the pain became real, swelling from a dull ache in the back of her head to a sharp throb in her forehead. She sucked in a breath through her teeth. Her cheek felt like it had been cracked open.

  “Grei,” she murmured. She opened her eyes, trying to see where she was. The Badlands were gone. She squinted into the dark, cool room. The floor and walls were rough-hewn planks of wood. It smelled like dirt and potatoes, and scant light trickled in from somewhere behind her.

  Her wrists were bound with a length of rope, and she lay on a straw-stuffed pad. She started to sit up, and the pain jangled in her skull. She stopped. Lying down was fine. Lying down was good.

  Gingerly, she reached up to touch her cheek. There was a thick bandage there, and her head felt cold. She ran her fingers into her hair—

  Only to touch the scratch of stubble.

  She gasped, frantically touching her shorn scalp. There was nothing but tufts of hair and patches of bare skin. She yanked her hands back, and they fluttered like butterflies over her belly.

  Why? Why would they do that?

  Trembling, she reached up and touched her head again. They had hacked it all off. There was nothing left.

  She pressed her eyelids shut and took a long, shuddering breath. It was only hair, she told herself. Only hair. Grei was the important thing.

  “Are you in pain?”

  She choked on a sob and swallowed her emotions, looked toward the door.

  “Galius,” she said hoarsely, and levered herself onto an elbow. Her lanky paramour leaned against the doorway, watching her with an expression she could not decipher. Anger? Concern? He moved toward her and crouched down.

  “I have something for the pain,” he said, steadying her as she sat up. “Take this. It will help.” He put a little leather pouch into her bound hands. Her knuckles were dirty, caked with dried blood.

  “Poison to finish the job?” she asked, forcing the pouch open. It contained white powder.

  He ignored the question, silent for a moment, then said, “Was it all a farce, Adora? You and me?”

  She met his gaze. “No,” she murmured, then looked away. Not all of it. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

  He watched her, suspicious, then he nodded at the pouch. “Take some, please. For your sake.”

  “Did you do this for my sake, too?” Her fingers hovered over her scalp, but she didn’t have the heart to touch it.

  “It was that crazy swordsman of yours,” he said angrily. “He’s mad as a jackal. I bounced my sword off his head while he was bent over you.”

  “Blevins was fighting you,” she said. She had almost said “Jorun”. She had to be careful. There were so many secrets, and Galius was a perceptive man.

  “And he killed three of us. When Nilus and I reached him, he was sawing at you with a knife. I thought he had killed you. Nilus and I put him down.”

  Adora could not imagine the reason for the farce. Was he telling the truth?

  “Blevins cut off my hair?” she asked.

  “Who is he, Adora? Who can best three imperial Highblades like that? I fought him. I’ve never met anyone so strong. And he’s... He’s grotesquely obese. How can he even use a blade the way he does?”

  What reason could Blevins possibly have for cutting her hair? It didn’t make sense.

  Then it hit her. Blevins knew they would take her back to Thiara. So he had cut away the evidence of her heritage. Her telltale Doragon hair would have given her away in an instant at the capital. He had spent his last moments protecting her.

  “Where is he?” she asked in a whisper.

  “Upstairs. Dying. I cracked his skull when I hit him. He has three gut wounds. It won’t be long.”

  “I see.”

  “He murdered Highblades, Adora. It’s an execution for him either way. He deserves to die.”

  Adora would have agreed with Galius an hour ago. But her emotions about Blevins were mixed now. In Thiara, this shaved head might save her life.

  “Will you tell me what is going on, Adora?” Galius asked softly.

  “Where are you keeping Grei?” she turned the conversation.

  Galius frowned. “He and Selicia ran into the Dead Woods.”

  “No!” She jerked upright, fighting against the sudden dizziness. The room swayed and she slapped the wall to keep her balance. She couldn’t breathe. “He wouldn’t do that,” she said, hating that she was wrong. Of course he would. That was exactly what he would do.

  “Please tell me what you know, Adora,” Galius said. “I want to believe you aren’t a part of all this—whatever this is—but...” he trailed off.

  She tried to keep her face neutral, but the despair was ice water in her veins. Grei was dead. The hope for the empire. The Whisper Prince. He was gone. The prophecy was over.

  Galius touched her arm. “I’m sorry about your friend—”

  “He was my lover,” she lied to him, lashing him with the pain she felt. I have failed! Seven years, and this is how it ends.

  Galius stiffened. They sat near each other in silence.

  “You should talk to me,” he said. “There’s no reason for you to keep silent.”

  “Go away, Galius.” She didn’t want his barrage of questions. She could barely hold the tears back, and she wouldn’t cry in front of him. “Just go.”

  He shook his head. “What do you think they’re going to do to you when they get you to the imperial city, Adora? How do you picture this will end? Thiara is not the safe haven we’re used to in Fairmist. They’re going to ask you these same questions, and when you don’t answer them, they’re going to peel the skin from your body until you scream the answers, until you—” He choked on the words and stopped, bowed his head.

  “Some things are more important than my life,” she whispered.

  “I am trying to help you,” Galius said.

  “Then cut these bonds and let me go.”

  He looked at her, his jaw clenched. “I can’t do that. The emperor commands your presence. But if you come clean...” He paused, and he looked at her hopefully. “If you tell them the truth, Adora, then there’s a chance. Just tell them that you aren’t a part of whatever is happening here. I will vouch for you.”

  She lay back down and turned her head to the wall.

  “So that’s it?” he asked.

  “You’ve made your decision, Galius. What else is there?”

  “They’ll torture you!”

  “I don’t care,” she said.

  “You will,” he snapped. He stomped to the door, but paused. “I don’t know what your game is. I thought you and I were...” He trailed off, his voice thick. “What could possibly be your reason for keeping silent?”

  The door opened and thumped shut.

  She licked her finger, dipped it in the white powder and put it on her tongue. It was bitter, but she swallowed it anyway.

  She closed her eyes, letting the despair take her. It was over. It was all over.

  * * *

  She awoke later. Lemon light shone through the little window, high on the boarded wall. She didn’t know if it was the same day or a new one. The pain in her head was improved. She sat up and took more of Galius’ miracle cure.

  She was testing the strength of the rope when the door opened.

  Galius entered, a steaming plate in one hand, a cup in the other. The plate had a browned chicken leg and two biscuits. Adora’s stomach rumbled at the sight, and she swallowed the saliva that filled her mouth. She looked up at him.

  “Is this the beginning of the interrogation?” she asked, eyeing the food.

  “You think I’m
your enemy. I’m not.” He approached, set the plate and cup down at her feet and backed up a pace. She looked at it but didn’t touch it.

  He shook his head. “It’s not drugged or poisoned, Adora, any more than the medicine I gave you. I never lied to you, and I’m not lying now. I am everything I said I was. You’re the one who isn’t.”

  She pulled the plate toward her, took a ravenous bite of the chicken, and the meaty tang filled her mouth. Nothing had ever tasted so good. She devoured everything without a word, picking the bone clean. Galius waited, leaning patiently against the door.

  Finally, she pushed the plate away. He watched her, like he wanted to say something, but decided against it.

  “How is Blevins?” she asked.

  “The same.”

  “What happens now?”

  “I take you to the emperor.”

  A thrill of fear raced through her, but she kept it from her face. “I’ve always wanted to see Thiara,” she managed in a monotone.

  He shook his head. “Why won’t you just—”

  A knock sounded on the short door. Galius looked annoyed, then opened it. A wiry old man shuffled in, bearing a small tub half full of water. He set it down, left, then returned with a large, steaming kettle, a scrub brush, soap and a towel. He also left a long tunic and belt for her, then departed without a word.

  Adora looked at the tub with longing. She suddenly felt the dirt on her, the dried sweat of exertion and the stink of fear, the blood. She longed for the tub almost as much as she had the food. She looked at Galius.

  “I know how much you love to bathe,” he said. “I thought you might...” He shrugged, approached her and, drawing his dagger, sliced through the rope that bound her hands. “Go ahead.”

  She rubbed her wrists as she glanced at the tub, then frowned at him. “With you watching?”

  “That’s right.”

  She crossed her arms. “No.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t mistake this for freedom. I’m doing what I can for you. But you’re an imperial prisoner. I’m not leaving you alone, unfettered.”

  “And I’m not undressing in front of you.”