by C. M. Lucas
‘Please don’t hurt me,’ he begged in a voice that could crack glass.
‘Michael? I don’t believe this, you followed me again!’
‘Should I let him go?’ Harrion asked her without taking his eyes off Michael.
She crossed her arms and pursed her lips. ‘Only if he promises never to follow me again.’
‘I was only looking out for you!’
Harrion lifted his blade, bringing its razor-sharp edge so close to Michael’s skin that it drew a tiny spot of blood. ‘I don’t believe that was the answer the lady was looking for.’ He seemed quite amused by the situation.
‘I promise, I promise!’ Michael cried, beads of sweat racing down his trembling brow.
Harrion lowered his sword and placed it back in its scabbard.
‘Good.’ Anya said, satisfied by Michael’s fear of her new friend.
Michael fell to the ground, clutching his neck and checking it for blood. ‘You’re mad, the lot of you! You could have killed me! My mother would have been distraught! I’m her only child – you more than anyone should remember that, Anya. You wouldn’t want to upset my poor mother would you? She’s probably worried sick about where I am.’
‘Does he always whine like this?’ Harrion asked as they continued walking through the forest.
She looked back at Michael. ‘Come on, you can’t stay there. You might get eaten by a skeleton-bear or something.’
Horror took his face. ‘What do you mean skeleton-bear? Anya?’
AFTER A GOOD hour of walking uphill through the trees and mountain rocks, they came to a clearing at the summit of the forest.
Above them, the sky was a wreck of fractured clouds and morose mist. Silent sparks of electricity lit the landscape like a stage, exposing scenes of Virtfirth’s tragic past.
In every direction, destruction reigned.
‘I bet this place used to be lovely,’ she said, trying to imagine the villages soaked in sun whilst children laughed and played.
‘It was... at least, that’s what my father says,’ Harrion sighed. He was fixed on the city north of the forest. ‘I was just a year when the Darkness came. I don’t remember anything about the towns or the Big City. I barely even remember my mother. Only her smile.’
That got her thinking about her own mother. She wondered what her smile was like, and if she’d ever smiled at Anya before she gave her away. Harrion had grown up without a mother too but his never wanted to leave him. Her life was taken by someone else.
She tried to stop herself from thinking it, but it was too late. The thought was there, and it had been her whole life, festering in the back of her mind; Anya’s mother had given her up willingly. She’d never wanted to be her mother. By leaving her at the children’s home, she’d taken her own life back before Anya could steal it away.
At that moment, she felt a deeper sympathy for Harrion than any of the other Virtfirthians she’d met.
‘Excuse me,’ Michael said, rubbing his shivering arms. ‘What are we doing here?’
‘Can you see the city walls in the distance? Just past them is Castle Lake. The castle used to be there, on an island right in the middle.’
Beyond the forest and the villages, Anya could barely see the city, though from this distance, it didn’t look big at all. She watched as the lake flashed in and out of sight beneath the storm clouds, and as Theone had said, the castle was nowhere to be seen. How could something like a castle just disappear without a trace?
Sitting there on the edge of the hill with that question rushing through her mind, Anya heard a long, drawn-out wafting sound. She turned to look over her shoulder but before her eyes had a chance to scan the sky, Harrion was on her, snatching her up in his arms and dragging her beneath a nearby bush. ‘Get down!’ he ordered Michael. The urgency in Harrion’s voice was so alarming, Michael didn’t hesitate. He ducked into the crook of a large standing stone that stood on the top of the hill, his eyes wide with fear as he tucked his legs in tight against his body.
Anya held her breath when she heard the sound again. It was louder than before, and was followed by the only gust of wind she had felt since her arrival in Virtfirth. She tilted her head and stole a glance through the gaps in the bush. Something big and menacing flew overhead, casting a shadow so dark that every shred of light was blotted out.
The sound disappeared and after a few extra minutes to ensure the coast was clear, Harrion let go of Anya and they crawled out from the bush.
‘What was that?’
‘I don’t know, but it’s never got that close before. When I was a kid, I heard one of my father’s men tell him something was guarding the lake. That’s why we’re not allowed to fly the horses.’
‘Do you think it will come back?’ Michael asked, his voice shaking as he ventured out from under the stone.
‘I hope not. We’ll just have to keep our wits about us.’
Anya looked at Harrion, nerves crinkling her forehead. What could be worth risking his life to sneak up here for? Then she remembered.
‘What did you mean?’ she asked, sitting down much closer to the bush. ‘Before, you said we were going to see the castle. What did you mean?’
Harrion sat beside her. ‘I came here once, last year,’ he began. ‘I’d snuck out to hunt and thought I could scope out the land from up here. Anyway, I swear I saw the castle. I rushed back to the camp and got my father, but by the time we got back, it had gone. They thought I was imagining it, but I know what I saw. I got into so much trouble for leaving the camp on my own. My father had some of Faust’s men guarding my quarters for weeks just to make sure I wouldn’t leave again. He thinks I can’t handle myself out here. I worked out how to get passed them though, and I sneak out every time the camp sleeps. I know it will appear again and I don’t want to miss it when it does.’
‘So we’re just going to stand here in the cold, waiting for something that may or may not happen, whilst that thing is out here?’ Michael whined.
Harrion waved his hand, keeping his eyes fixed on the lake, and a blue sheepskin blanket appeared at Michael’s feet. Michael wrapped it around himself and wandered back to the crook in the standing stone, grumbling.
WITH EVERY HOUR that passed, the longing in Harrion’s eyes grew more desperate. Anya could see how badly he wanted the castle to reappear and with its unlikelihood growing as time passed, she found herself wanting it for him.
When Harrion decided that their clandestine pursuit was over, he sighed. ‘Not this sleep,’ he breathed to himself. ‘Come on. We need to get back before the others rise.’
Michael, who had been pretending to sleep, was the first to start scrambling down the mountain side.
From the way he lingered, it was obviously difficult for Harrion to turn his back on the lake. She knew how that felt, to let go without being ready. She’d had to leave Iain’s house only a day ago, saying goodbye was the hardest thing she’d ever done.
She offered him her hand. ‘If I’m still here tomorrow, I’ll come back with you.’
Harrion looked disheartened but took her hand anyway, and together they walked down the hill.
By the time they had reached level ground, Michael was so far ahead that he dipped in and out of sight, bobbing through the trees.
‘He’s going the wrong way,’ Harrion told Anya.
‘Should I call to him?’
‘I wouldn’t. Shouting will draw the wrong sort of attention to us. That said, so will his clumpy footing.’ A small, silvery laugh escaped her. ‘Here...’ He held out his arm but Anya didn’t understand. ‘Well, do you want us to catch him or not?’ He fluttered his wings and instantly she knew what he meant. With her arms around his neck and his around her waist, gravity just stopped being. They lifted from the ground and rode the air between the trees.
Perhaps it was sheer coincidence, or perhaps it was the sight of her in the arms of another guy, but Michael lost his footing when they flew overhead, and fell right into a shallow swamp.
<
br /> The language that followed as he pulled himself out was just as disgusting as the black, murky water he’d fallen in.
‘Are you ok, Michael?’ Anya asked as she and Harrion landed beside him, both trying their best not to laugh.
He stood with his upper body hunched forward, pulling sludgy dead leaves from his hair, and wringing the thick, sticky swamp water from his clothes. ‘Oh, nice, Anya. I’m sure this is dreadfully funny to you! Stupid Michael, he’s not important, just someone to poke fun at! I’m sure you wouldn’t be laughing if you’d fallen – OW!’ He raised his knee, desperately pulling up his trouser leg. There, stuck to his skin, were three slimy, black leeches.
‘Oh Michael, don’t be such a baby, leeches don’t even hurt,’ she said, but Harrion interrupted her.
‘Wait, Anya, they’re no ordinary leeches.’
‘What?’
‘They’re Vampyre Leeches!’
‘OW! It feels like they’re – AH – biting! How do I – YAOWW! – get them off?’
‘You burn them off, don’t you?’
‘NO!’ Harrion cried, his hands rising in alarm. ‘Just relax. Vampyre leeches have two tusk-like fangs that sink into their victim’s skin whilst they feed on their blood. If they feel threatened, they’ll secrete a venom from their fangs... and it’ll kill a fully grown man in about a minute.’
Michael paled.
Anya’s heart started to race. For the second time her wild goose chase had put someone in danger, and this time it was Michael. In the few seconds of silence that followed, every angry conversation and snide comment exchanged between them disappeared. In Anya’s eyes, Michael was once again the boy she’d met at Scott’s. The boy that blushed every time she caught him looking at her. The boy who stuttered whilst asking her on a date. And the only person, other than Iain, that she’d ever let get close. She couldn’t watch him die like she’d watched Iain die. She couldn’t stand by helpless again. ‘What do we do?’
‘First; stay calm. They can taste the fear in your blood,’ Harrion said to Michael. Michael nodded; the rest of his body frozen to the spot. ‘They will stop feeding when they’ve had enough.’
‘How long will that take?’
‘Could be an hour, could be a few days. They’re quite big; it may take them a while before they feel full.’
‘A few days? He can’t have those things on him for a few days, anything could happen, what if they get scared? They’ll kill him!’
‘At least it would stop his whining,’ Harrion snickered, but he dropped the laughter immediately when he saw Anya’s face. ‘It’s not that bad, honestly. I’ve seen many soldiers come back to camp covered in Vampyre Leeches, and a good half of them survived,’ he said, quite calm.
‘HALF?’ Anya cried, her eyebrows practically lifting off her face. ‘Right, well if you’re not going to help us, we’ll just have to ask your father.’ She couldn’t believe his blatant disregard for Michael, so white and shaken he hadn’t managed to say a single word – just stare at the ground in shock.
Harrion let out a long sigh. ‘Fine! The only thing we can do is try to make his blood less desirable so they let go – that’s what they do back at camp. We need to find a Dryad Pad.’
‘A what?’ It dawned on her that she knew nothing of her new surroundings; nothing of the dangers in the forest waiting to take their lives, and nothing of the remedies it concealed either. Back home, she knew how to look after herself. There were doctors at the end of a phone, teachers around every corner at school and police on the beat in the town. And, if it came down to it, she knew how to handle herself in a scuffle, having been in many fist fights with bullies as she grew up. Back home, she was fearless. She was invincible. Now, here in this new world and standing next to Harrion, the same fearless look in his eyes, she realised everyone is invincible... until they’re not.
‘It’s a type of fungus. Horrid, putrid stuff! They’re really juicy and if they get into your bloodstream they make it taste foul. It used to grow on the trees, but when the trees died with the Darkness, the pads just fell off – that’s what they say, anyway. It still grows though. Fungus is about the only thing that did survive the Darkness. Start looking around the tree roots, they’re quite big and flat, with rough edges and a funnelled stem. They’re not hard to find.’
Anya and Harrion set to work quickly, brushing away the debris that surrounded the stark remains of the trees. As they sifted through rotten bark and fallen branches, she kept looking back at Michael, checking he was still alive. He just stood there, staring at nothing.
After a few minutes, Harrion found what they were looking for. ‘Here you go.’ Michael stared right through him, as if he was made of glass. ‘Michael? I can use my magic to speed things up, just eat a good few mouthfuls and take my hand.’
Still, Michael did not move.
‘Michael?’ Anya’s voice wavered, and she reached for his hand.
He started at her touch, shaking and looking frantically from Anya to Harrion and back. ‘No. NO! Don’t come near me!’ He pulled his hand away from Anya and fled through the trees.
‘Michael!’ she cried and ran after him.
She could hear Harrion calling after them, but she didn’t care.
Michael was faster than she expected. A branch slit through the skin of her arm as she ran. She only took her eyes off the woodland for a second to look at the damage, but that was all it took. She felt something hit her shin, low and hard, and she fell to the ground with a thud. But there was no time to feel the pain and she was back on her feet in a flash, barely taking a second to decide which way to continue running. A warm trickle tickled her cheek and she knew she was bleeding, but she kept her focus on finding Michael.
She came to a clearing and spotted him ahead. Tearing towards him, she reached out to grab him when a voice bellowed inside her head.
STOP!
The voice was startling, and Michael must have heard it too, halting at the same moment Anya did. When it spoke again, she realised it was Harrion, only there was something different about his tone. There was no arrogance, no anger; not even panic.
Just sheer terror.
Don’t move. Don’t even breathe.
Heart hammering in her ears, she noticed tiny lights floating around a huge tree at the other end of the clearing. Fireflies?
Then before she could take anything else in, something slithered around Anya’s foot and took hold of her ankles. A breath later, it pulled her down to the ground.
HER SCREAM PIERCED the air. Something had a hold of her and was dragging her away. Close by, Michael screamed her name.
There was nothing to grab on to but the grass itself, and as she clawed at the ground, she realised what was happening. Her eyes bulged as the tip of each blade unfurled before her like waking hands, stretching after a long night’s sleep. They grew rapidly, up and over her head, until they were tall enough to wrap their spindly green fingers around her body.
Fear dominated her, and with every attempt at a breath, Anya could feel her heart sink deeper inside her burning chest.
The five-fingered grass worked in perfect unison, carrying her towards the great, twisting tree. Barely six feet away and still approaching, the roots of the tree burst from the ground, launching dirt into the air as they unwrapped themselves from the soil.
Waving around her like the tentacles of a hungry octopus, one of the roots struck the side of her head, and her eyes closed for what she was sure would be the last time.
She felt the sudden, intense heat of fire all around her feet, and the vines that were locked around her ankles fell limp. Then, just as they melted away, another pair of hands took hold of her. They were coarse and rough to the touch.
They were rising in the air – the hands and her – and as she calmed, she thought Harrion must have rescued her, but when she opened her eyes, it was not butterfly wings she saw.
‘Lorcan?’ She tried to make sense of it, but the knock on her head finally took its to
ll and she lost consciousness.
She awoke in a hut with a very short and frail old man. He held out something for her to drink, and in no state to argue, she sipped at the tasteless liquid until it was all gone. She vaguely remembered the old man cleaning her face with a bloodstained cloth.
EVERYTHING WAS A blur. Blues, greens, browns, hands, fish, bubbles. She realised she was totally submerged in water, yet it was no struggle to breathe. Nothing made sense. There was a clanging sound of steel on steel before fire erupted all around, separating her from life.
ANYA’S EYES OPENED and instantly, her hands were at her chest. It had been at least twenty-four hours since the burning had begun and she was far from used to it.
She sat up and, swaying from side to side, found herself on a hammock. Next to her, Steph was asleep on a tree-trunk chair, arms folded and her head resting on her own shoulder. The room was dimly lit by levitating bowls of fire, and more hammocks lined the wall to her left. Despite her muddled head, she got the distinct impression that she was in the camp’s equivalent of a hospital.
‘Steph,’ Anya whispered, nudging her friend’s arm.
Steph’s eyes flickered open and she let out a sigh of relief. ‘Anya! O. M. G, girl! You were so lucky! Are you ok? How do you feel?’
‘A bit confused,’ she replied. ‘What happened? Where are Michael and Harrion? And how did Lorcan get there?’
‘Well,’ Steph began, her eyes glittering with gossip. ‘Me and Tim woke up to hear Lorcan going crazy in his cell. He was screaming that he had to “get to her” – which, now we know, he meant you – so Barlem went in to the cell to calm him down, but he must of broke free because by the time we got there he was flying off! Next thing we know, the soldiers were dragging him back, Theone and Harrion were arguing in the King’s quarters, and you and Michael were being brought back covered in blood!’
‘Is Michael ok?’
‘Yes, he’s fine; he’s resting in our hut right now. You weren’t the only one Lorcan saved. Apparently, that Potentilla-stuff got Harrion when he was trying to get Michael out of there. Lorcan grabbed them both and flew them to safety, and then he rescued you.’