A Land of Never After

by R. L. Davennor

  I changed the subject. “You came all this way for your, ah, mission, and I went and ruined it—”

  “It was ruined long before you came along.” Bitterness laced Peter’s voice. “Been futile for ages. Unless… you happen to know of a mapmaker? A quality one?”

  He turned to me with such renewed hope in his eyes that I wished I did. I shook my head slowly. “Afraid not. Is there something you need drawn?”

  “No.” His shoulders slumped, and his gaze flickered to the ocean. “There’s somewhere I wish to go.”

  “I definitely understand that,” I said wistfully, joining him in admiring the sea. The waves sparkled in the midday sun, wild, free, and reckless. They were so turbulent they disturbed even the ships anchored a good distance from the coast, waiting their turn to approach the docks.

  Watching them sparked an idea in my head. It solidified as I noticed one of the vessels prepare to cast off into open water.

  “Wait—it’s a map you need? Have you asked any of the ships or their crews? I’m more than certain they have charts of all kinds, both of these shores and what lies beyond—”

  “Of course I’ve asked,” Peter snapped, but he softened in an instant. “Sorry. I only meant that I’ve tried everything… and I’m afraid it isn’t that simple.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Only one map was ever made pointing to the destination I seek… at least, that’s what I was told. The original may be out of reach, but I’m hoping a copy exists somewhere, or even better—that the man who drew it is still alive and can create another.”

  I stared blankly at him. Peter’s explanation had begun innocently enough, but by the end, he’d started to sound much older than he appeared. It sparked that same feeling I’d experienced earlier: the one warning me that this boy may not be who he seemed.

  “But enough about me,” he said. “I’m more interested in you. How did an orphan make it all the way out here without an escort? Did you get lost? Do you have parents? Tell me everything. Whatever your story, it must have been a wonderful adventure.”

  Heat crept to my cheeks. What kinds of questions were these? We’d barely made one another’s acquaintance, and already Peter was asking me intimate details of my life. “No, no adoption for me. No family, either.”

  “You escaped, then?” His gaze went wide with wonder, and he shuffled closer. “How did you manage that?”

  “I didn’t escape, but I’m not going back.”

  Peter grinned even wider. “A runaway—”

  “I didn’t run away, I aged out.” I sighed, already irritated at having to explain this a second time. “For your information, I’m sixteen today—”

  “Really?” Surprise flickered across his mismatched features. “You don’t look grown up.”

  “Neither do you,” I snapped, more harshly than I meant. As I opened my mouth to apologize, Peter’s broad smile caught my eye.

  “Why, thank you.” He bowed his head as though I’d just given him the highest compliment.

  “Don’t… Don’t you want to be grown up?” At the orphanage, it was all we ever talked about. If we weren’t adopted, it was the day we’d be free to do as we pleased.

  “Not particularly.” He shrugged. “What’s the fun in that?”

  “Well, for starters, it’s the moment your life really begins—”

  “Wait—did you say it’s your birthday?”

  I nearly bit my tongue. This had to be a record for how many different conversations I’d had in the span of five minutes. That aside, I’d never once celebrated my birthday, and had no plans to start. It was simply another day—one that served as yet another painful reminder of not having any family to share it with. “Yes, but—”

  “We must celebrate.” Peter leaped to his feet with such gusto that I could have sworn he… hovered? But when I blinked he was back on the ground, so I must be seeing things. He paid no mind to my protests, scanning the docks through narrowed lids. “No, that won’t do… too boring, too expensive, too deadly… aha!”

  Blinking, I furrowed my brow in confusion. “Really, Peter, I—”

  “I have the perfect present. Wait here.”

  To my surprise, panic blossomed in my chest at the thought of being left alone. I hadn’t been in his company for long, but he was so bright and confident, possessing energy I felt desperate to absorb. “What? No, all I’d like are some new clothes—”

  He was already gone.

  I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders, clinging to the reassurance of the waves lapping behind me, and muttered the only word that truly seemed appropriate.

  “Shit.”

  II. the thief

  Bolting upright, I blinked in the harsh sunlight, mouth parched and foul-tasting. My tongue was even drier than my lips. I craved water, and the incessant roll of the tide behind me only made that need worse.

  Shrugging the blanket from my sweat-coated shoulders, I scanned my immediate surroundings. A portly woman swept the porch of the nearby tavern while gulls and rats rummaged through her trash, but other than that, it was quiet. The sun hung much too low in the sky, indicating it would set soon. Hours had passed.

  And Peter was nowhere to be found.

  I groaned, unsurprised but disappointed. I hadn’t known that boy for more than an hour, but he’d been a glimmer of hope. Now there was no way I’d catch a ship before nightfall. The handful of vessels in the distance were raising their gangplanks, already settling in for the evening. My search would need to begin again in the morning, and there was nothing I could do about it.

  I hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but there was no use dwelling on my misfortune. My priority was a full belly and a warm bed; I’d figure out the rest in the morning. Sliding off the barrel, I reached for where Peter had placed my pack.

  Nothing.

  I sucked in a panicked breath. Surely my eyes were deceiving me. Tucked within that damned satchel was all I possessed in this world, but more importantly, the determining factor in whether I slept on the streets tonight. Gods only knew what prowled these parts once the sun went down, especially so close to the Forest of Never. I shuddered at the thought.

  That wasn’t including my music box. I’d never been parted from it, not once.

  Peter had stolen it.

  So much for a birthday present.

  Gritting my teeth, I set off at a brisk pace in the direction I’d seen him disappear. I didn’t have much to go off, but the dwellings were already growing sparser; surely there would be people I could ask for more information. And though the day was nearly gone, Peter couldn’t have gotten far, simply because there weren’t many places to go. Once the docks ended, there was a long stretch of beach before the Forest began. I knew what the tales warned—I’d repeated them to scare younger children a time or two—but it wasn’t dark yet. I still had time to search.

  The real question was whether I had the nerve.

  I picked up my pace until I was sprinting. There was no time for caution; not when the alternative was being left to the mercy of the night. The rapidly cooling air soothed my still-burning skin, and the salty breeze reawakened my senses. All of it exhilarated me further as I ran straight through a crowd of seagulls pecking at a rotting fish.

  I was deaf to their indignant screeches as I approached the first group I came across: a teenage boy and two older men in front of a tavern. Gathered around a table and settled into rickety chairs, they were having a discussion in hushed tones, poring over a few scraps of paper. The boy, a redhead, acknowledged me first, gaze widening as he took in my awful appearance. I still hadn’t gotten a chance to change out of my now ragged dress. He opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it.

  “Evening,” I panted through haggard breaths, bowing my head even though the men’s backs were to me. They hardly looked up from their work, continuing to
mutter amongst themselves.

  “To you as well,” the boy said, sidestepping the table to hear me clearer. His eyes darted around nervously, eventually settling back on me. “Pardon, but are you alone?”

  “Not for long, I hope. I apologize for the intrusion, but I’m looking for my brother. Have any of you seen him?” I wracked my exhausted brain for Peter’s appearance. “He’s a bit taller than me, brown hair, wearing a green shirt—”

  The redhead clenched his jaw. “You shouldn’t be out here—it’s not safe in these parts. The Nightstalkers have been more ravenous than usual lately.”

  I ignored the chill that shot up my spine. “That’s why it’s so urgent. My brother has—”

  “Brother, you say?”

  The larger of the two men rose from his chair, causing me to gasp. A jagged scar marred the left side of his face, beginning at his chin and stopping at his temple, only narrowly missing his eye. The result of an encounter with a Nightstalker? His lips curled in disgust as he took me in, but none of these details scared me. The array of weapons at his belt did.

  He selected a large dagger, twirling it in his hands. “We were just discussing a similar lad. Or, more accurately… a thief.”

  I swallowed, inwardly cursing myself. He’d proven what he was, but I’d made the mistake of following him, and was about to pay for his crimes.

  “Boy swiped several of my best knives right out from under me. He was good, I’ll give him that, and lucky too—but it’s our luck now.”

  Though the redhead stood frozen, the second man moved behind me, effectively blocking my escape.

  The scarred one grinned; he sensed my fear. “He didn’t take all my knives, and was even kind enough to send us a plaything.”

  I clenched my fists, fueled by the rage that coursed through my blood. Plaything, my ass. We’d play, all right—but we’d do it my way.

  I lunged, but not toward either of the men. Gripping the arm of one of their makeshift chairs, I prayed it was light enough to wield. It was. Careful to avoid the redhead, I swung the chair around with as much force as I could muster. Immense satisfaction flooded through me when it connected with the scarred man’s shoulders, but not as much as I felt when a groan escaped his lips. Wood splintered and shattered as several legs broke off, but I still had one decent swing left before I destroyed it completely.

  He remained on his feet, reaching for a knife. “You’ll pay for this, you b—”

  My second strike collided with his kneecaps and sent him crumpling. Before he hit the ground, I snatched one of the smaller knives poking from his belt and waved it in a threatening semicircle.

  The second man didn’t bother to draw a weapon. He cracked his knuckles, scoffing as he advanced. “Color me impressed, but there’s still a debt to be paid.”

  “Pay it yourself,” I snarled. Internally apologizing to the redhead, seemingly frozen in shock, I shoved him into his companion. Neither fell, but they stumbled and tangled enough for me to slip around them.

  Knife still in hand, I took off sprinting. Cries pursued me.

  “Thief! Witch!”

  Or maybe they were saying ‘bitch’—the wind roaring in my ears made it hard to tell at this point. I dodged the rest of the houses dotting the portside, keeping well away from any humans I saw, but it hardly mattered; I’d attracted far too much attention. Some mothers with young children at their hips had even emerged from their dwellings to watch. No one would help me now. Glancing over my shoulder, my heart pounded faster at the sight of half a dozen men on my tail. They were gaining quickly, and there were no alleys I could duck into. No places to hide—once the houses ended, there was nothing but open, sandy beach.

  It left nowhere but the forest.

  My chest tightened at the thought of the scarred man’s face. His old wound could have been the work of a Nightstalker—or something worse. A long expanse of beach still separated me from the blackened trees, and I could have sworn I heard faint howling coming from within. The Forest of Never was where nightmares came alive, where dead things roamed, and where lost souls disappeared, never to be seen or heard from again. It was my only chance.

  Pumping my legs as fast as they would go, I nearly stumbled when I reached the beach. The dry sand was far too malleable and difficult to navigate at my breakneck pace, so I stayed close to the tide, utilizing the harder surface to propel myself forward. The cries of my pursuers faded with the sunset, but I didn’t slow until I reached the tree line.

  Sliding to a complete halt, I hesitated. Unnatural coldness wafted from within. I shuddered when all the hairs on my arms stood on end but didn’t back away. Holding my breath, I reached for the nearest branch—only for it to disintegrate at my touch. I could have sworn the rest of the tree quivered, alive though it was dead.

  What in the gods’ names was I thinking?

  “You wanna die that badly, lassie? We can speed it up for you!” The mob was close enough for me to hear them, but they too had stopped. Only fifty yards separated us now—a distance they could easily cross the moment they wanted to.

  “Go in there, and you’ll die slow and painful. Nightstalkers like to play with their food.” I recognized the voice of the scarred man. “Come with us, tell us where your brother is, and maybe we’ll let you live. If you behave.”

  I took in the maze of trees before me, refusing to give the men any more attention than they deserved. The longer I stared, the more it became obvious my eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on me—the forest was moving. It rearranged itself until a clear path formed for me to enter without hindrance. There were no signs of Nightstalkers, and even the howling had ceased. I bit my lip. Just because no one had never made it out alive didn’t mean it wasn’t possible… right?

  There was only one way to find out. As the men screamed and jeered, I entered the Forest of Never.

  Faster than a walk but slower than a run, my feet skimmed the barren ground. Thorns and gnarled branches poked out at every turn, but not one of them snagged my dress or scraped against my skin. Seemingly having the sentient forest’s blessing didn’t ease my fears. Heart thudding wildly, I didn’t deviate from where the trees guided me, despite being well aware that a monster could be waiting on the other side. A ravenous one.

  “Damn you, Peter,” I hissed under my breath, gripping the knife I still held a bit tighter. “You should be in here, not me.”

  Darkness was closing in with every step, but not the type that fell each night. This was blackness; a void that would consume me if I let it. The sound of my own voice grounded me a little, so I kept talking.

  “Think you can steal from me and get away with it? My music box, of all things?” Tears hovered at the corners of my eyes at the thought of never seeing—never hearing—it again. Though I’d never really had her, losing the music box was like losing my mother, and I was nowhere near ready for that.

  I didn’t know if it was this cursed place or my addled mind, but already it was difficult to recall the melody I’d fallen asleep to every single night. To keep from crying, I started humming the little I remembered, hoping it might drown out the unnatural whistling of the wind.

  It didn’t.

  My song blended with the sounds of the forest, and the result was otherworldly. It both matched my pitch and added complex harmonies beneath, leaping with me across octaves and rattling me to my core. Something was happening, and I’d have noticed even if the trees weren’t rocking. Dancing. They moved as much to me as they did to the wind, with a voice more ethereal than any singer I’d ever heard.

  But I didn’t stop, not even when the music swelled to a volume that both hurt my ears and threatened to split my head in two. Though part of me was terrified, a stronger part wanted this. Welcomed this. Swaying from side to side, I planted my feet in place and closed my eyes.

  That was when everything stopped—everything but a telltale tink
ling. My music box?

  Fear pierced my heart; it couldn’t be. How could it have made it all the way out here? Surely this was another of the forest’s tricks, this time clearly designed to lead me to my doom. I wouldn’t fall for it. I didn’t want it back that badly. Didn’t I?

  Against my better judgement, I tore my gaze from the path ahead to glance around. The darkness had taken hold of nearly everything at this point, but my eyes had adjusted just enough to be able to see fleeting shapes. Flickers. Glimmers. I sucked in a breath.

  It was here.

  Nestled atop a bed of moss, my music box lay open, freely singing its tune. Unaffected by the forest, the inner mechanisms worked perfectly, cranking as steadily and as on pitch as ever. The intricate silver plating decorating the box’s outside flashed, though there was no light coming from anywhere—but I was too relieved to care, and too exhausted to wonder how in the gods’ names it had ended up here.

  A sob tore from my throat as I darted toward it, leaving the path behind. For the first time since entering the forest, thorns and branches dug into my unprotected flesh, but I pushed through the pain, determined to reach the box even if it killed me. Blood trailed down my arms and stained my ragged dress, and when a branch snagged my hair, I stumbled at the sudden jerk.

  A strange combination of rage and determination flooded through me—I refused to make it this far only to be held prisoner by a damned tree. Whipping out my knife, I hacked and slashed blindly, screaming nonsense as I did. Each time the blade struck bark, the dead branches disintegrated just as they had while I still stood on the beach. An ash-like substance settled atop my scalp and shoulders, but I didn’t let it stop me; I didn’t cease thrashing until all hindrances were gone.

  By the time I reached the box and dropped to my knees before it, I could no longer see. It was much too dark. Cold arrived next, creeping along the hardened ground before whooshing higher, overtaking everything in its path. Settling on the moss, I curled around my music box, trembling and teeth chattering as I prepared to freeze to death.