The Boy with the Hidden Name

by Skylar Dorset

  “You’re quite close,” the Erlking agrees. “I just thought landing so close to where you wanted to be is obvious.”

  “Or sensible,” says Kelsey.

  The Erlking shrugs. Then he takes a few confident steps away from us and disappears. I blink in confusion then realize that there is a rock ahead of us with a gap in it: the entrance to a cave. Shelter, I think, and I am relieved.

  The Erlking’s head reappears, poking out of the cave. “Come along.”

  We follow him obediently. Will sends one of his lighted orbs up to the ceiling of the cave, where it floats, illuminating the size of the cavern. It’s really more of a passageway than a cavern, a narrow hallway hewn into the rock. There isn’t much to see, but I don’t know what we’re looking for. I glance at Ben who looks drawn and exhausted, droplets of water shining in his dark hair.

  “Take your coats off,” Will tells him. “They’re getting you damper.”

  Ben obeys, slipping out of his trench coat and pulling the windbreaker he’s wearing underneath it over his head, leaving his hair in unruly and wet disarray. The blue-and-white striped long-sleeved polo shirt he’s wearing over a bright tangerine shirt seems mostly dry.

  “What’s the matter with him?” Merrow asks, sounding curious.

  “He doesn’t like water,” I answer.

  “He doesn’t like water,” repeats Trow, as if trying to make that make sense.

  “Here,” the Erlking says and carefully hands across the cape he’s taken off.

  Ben looks both surprised and jubilant. He wipes his face and towels off his hair with the inside layer of the cape, which seems to have remained dry, and then hands it gratefully back to the Erlking, careful that they don’t touch each other. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.” The Erlking twirls the cape dramatically around himself and fastens it back around his neck. “This way.”

  We set off following the Erlking, although I’m not sure where it is we’re going. The Erlking moves slowly, cautiously, and I sense that he needs it to be quiet. None of us says a word.

  We’ve only gone a few dozen feet when the Erlking, in a movement so quick that I don’t even see him execute it, pulls out his sword and points it toward the wall. I’m confused, wondering if he’s suddenly lost his mind, and then I become aware that he has pinned a person there, up against the wall of the cave. A person who is a stranger to our group. A person I didn’t notice until just that moment.

  “Where did he come from?” Kelsey whispers beside me, clearly as shocked as I am.

  The person is a young man. His face is sculptured and striking, beautiful bow lips and lovely, high cheekbones, but the effect is somehow not attractive. His eyes dart around at us from underneath a mop of thick brown hair falling over onto his forehead. He is dressed in trousers and a filthy blue shirt, tucked half in and half out, and his shoes are on the wrong feet.

  And he says, “There’s no way that you can see me.”

  The Erlking smiles a wicked, terrifying smile and edges the point of his sword closer to the man’s Adam’s apple. “Reconsider,” he suggests smoothly.

  The cornered man gulps and tries to look cross-eyed at the sword cornering him. And then he frowns. “Hang on just a pig’s whisper,” he says and looks up at the Erlking in amazement. “Is that goblin silver?”

  The Erlking smiles again, a bit more nicely this time but still silkily. Then he lowers the sword and bows gracefully, his cape swirling about him dramatically. “I am the Erlking of Goblinopolis,” he announces.

  The man blinks in astonishment. “Are you really? Well, isn’t this amazing!” He launches himself at the Erlking, and I flinch, expecting it to be an attack, but he simply shakes his hand enthusiastically. “It’s wonderful to meet you. Marvelous to meet you,” he exclaims.

  The Erlking looks as if this is to be expected. “Thank you, thank you,” he says, although he might as well be saying Of course, of course.

  “What brings you to the humble land of Ingolfur Arnarson?” the man asks.

  “A quest,” answers the Erlking. “A most important quest.” He steps aside, gesturing to Merrow. “These are the fays of the seasons—”

  “The fays of the seasons!” the man interrupts, sounding astonished. “Well, why didn’t you say so? You will need to see Their Majesties.”

  ***

  We follow our guide. He is chattering a mile a minute to the Erlking, and I can’t really follow the conversation. It doesn’t seem as if the Erlking can either; he just keeps hmm-ing every so often to keep up his end of it. The walls and floor of the hallway are covered in red carpet so plush we sink into it and leave footprints as if it is snow. Golden sconces line the walls, candles burning merrily. Over our heads, from the ceiling of the cave, chandeliers drip delicate crystal and blaze away. It seems to be an entire palace existing in a cave.

  Eventually, the hallway opens into a large room. The floor is stone, like the floor of the cave itself, but it has been polished until it gleams like a mirror, reflecting the chandeliers high above it. Looking into it has a dizzying effect, the doubling of the world at one’s feet. I can’t look away from it, staring into my own startled eyes. It isn’t like looking at a reflection, not entirely. It’s like looking into a puddle, like there’s a me on the other side of it also looking into a puddle, and I lean closer to it, inexorably…

  And tumble in, through cold marble that gives way with a splash, and then I find myself struggling my way out of a weed-choked pond in a forest, and nobody else is anywhere in sight.

  CHAPTER 18

  “Oh!” exclaims a voice, and I jump a mile, because I could have just sworn that I was all alone. “Oh! Oh! Oh! A visitor! Oh, a friend! A soul! Mate!”

  I try to locate the voice, peering through the undergrowth, and then the owner of it bounds into view. He is a skinny, old, bald man, with a long face and a long nose. He has a straggly half goatee that seems to be the only hair on his body, and he is filthy, dressed in rags, apparently from living by this pool of water.

  He is an ugly little creature, and he looks utterly delighted to see me.

  “Hello, hello, hello!” he enthuses and bounces up to me. “Welcome, welcome, welcome! Are you thirsty? Would you like some food? Please stay and have some food! Please stay forever!”

  “Uh,” I say very intelligently. “I have to get back…” Even though I have no idea how I even got here in the first place. I look down into the pool of water and try to determine if I should swim down to the bottom. Would I emerge out of the marble floor? I can’t see the bottom of the pond at all—the water is filthy—but it’s the only idea I have.

  I hold my breath and dive down toward the bottom. It’s deeper than I estimate, and I don’t even find it the first time I try. I do find it the second time I try, but it seems to be nothing but mud and…other things I decide not to think too hard about. I dive down again and again and again, but I always just end up surfacing in the forest, with the skinny, old, bald man watching me with interest.

  Finally, I give up. However I get back to where I was, it’s not through this pond. I’m hoping that the rest are looking for me by now.

  “Are you going to stay?” the man asks me eagerly as I straggle my way out of the pond. “Please stay at least for a meal! It is so lonely here. Please stay!”

  “I was just in Iceland,” I tell him. He just looks at me politely. “With…” Damn it, what was the name they’d said. “Arnarson?” I guess, hoping it’s right.

  The little man just says, “Please stay here for a meal.”

  He is so insistent. Maybe he’s trying to tell me something. “Okay,” I decide slowly. “I’ll stay just to have something to eat. Then I have to be on my way.”

  The creature screeches with delight and goes gamboling away from me. “A guest, a guest, a guest!” he chants. “This way, guest! It’s this way!” He g
estures to me, into the undergrowth.

  I hesitate then decide I might as well follow him. He seems harmless, and I don’t know what else to do. I don’t have time for any of this, but I have no clue how to fix it.

  The undergrowth gives way to a cozy clearing, in the center of which there is a fire, over which a rabbit is roasting.

  “Look!” exclaims the creature. “I caught a rabbit! We can share it!”

  “Excellent,” I manage. I’ve never had rabbit to eat before, and I’m not sure I want to start now.

  “Sit down, sit down!” He practically shoves me down onto a patch of moss and thrusts a dirty glass of water at me.

  I take it. “Where’d you get the glass?” I ask. It is a stupid question, but it is literally the first thing that occurs to me.

  The creature laughs with delight. “It was a gift! Another visitor left it for me!”

  “Do you get a lot of visitors?” I ask and take a tentative sip of the water. It seems to be drinkable.

  The creature’s face falls. He sits on the moss opposite me and looks like the saddest thing in existence. My heart aches for him.

  “Hardly any,” he says wistfully, looking out into the distance. “Hardly any.”

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him sincerely. “It must be lonely.”

  “So lonely,” he says. “I am the loneliest thing in the world.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say again. He looks so miserable. I almost feel bad asking my next question. “Where are we?”

  “This is the Urisk’s clearing. I am the Urisk,” he adds after a second, as if afraid I won’t understand that. “I am the only Urisk that there is!”

  “Yes, but what’s this forest?”

  The Urisk looks at me quizzically, as if he doesn’t understand the question. Then he flops melodramatically onto the moss. “You’re going to leave, aren’t you?” he wails. “Everyone always leaves.”

  “I need to get back,” I try to comfort him. I almost want to tell him to come with me, I feel so terrible for the poor little thing.

  The Urisk sits up, sniffling, and pokes at the roasting rabbit. “It’s okay. Don’t trouble yourself. I will be fine. Lonely, but fine. Just oh so lonely. Have some rabbit.” He tears some off for me unceremoniously and drops it in my lap. “So lonely,” he mutters and munches at his rabbit.

  There is a scrap of cloth on the ground, faded red in color, long and thin, ripped from something. I pick it up absently and tuck it into my pocket. “I have to get going,” I tell him. “I’m sorry, but I have to try to figure out where I am. Are there any towns near here? Any people?”

  “No,” declares the Urisk mournfully. “There is no one around here. There is only me. Only me. And it is so very, very lonely.”

  “I’m sorry,” I venture again uncertainly. “You could come with me, I suppose?”

  The Urisk shakes his head. “I will stay here. Alone. It is my destiny. Alone, alone, alone. Always alone. No one ever stays.” He stares at the moss as his slender fingers pick at it, apparently taking no notice of me.

  I stand up, wondering what to do. “Well,” I tell him. “Thank you for the food and the water.” I receive no response. “Good-bye.”

  “Good-bye, good-bye,” says the Urisk without looking at me. “Good-bye.”

  I push out of the clearing and take a moment by the pond to collect myself. What a strange, sad little creature. I feel terrible for him, melancholy weighing me down.

  I dive into the pond once more, just to make sure, but its bottom stays stubbornly mud. I give up and get out and start walking, not knowing what else to do.

  I walk for not very long, maybe half an hour, before reaching another pond. For a second, I stare down at it, wondering if I’ve walked in a circle.

  Then a voice I recognize cries, “Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! A visitor! Oh, a friend! A soul! Mate!”

  The Urisk comes rushing into view, eager to greet me again, bounding up to me.

  “A visitor!” he exclaims. “A guest! How lucky to have you! How fortunate! Won’t you stay for some food?”

  I look at him quizzically. “But…we just ate.”

  He laughs as if I am delightful and hilarious.

  I continue to stare at him. “You ate the rabbit, remember?”

  “Do you catch rabbits? How very useful!”

  “No, you caught the rabbit,” I remind him.

  “I caught the rabbit?” This gives him pause. “But I haven’t caught a rabbit in forever.”

  “But you did, you just did, we just—” I cut myself off, realizing something. This little creature is dressed in blue rags. The Urisk’s had definitely been red. It’s the color of the scrap of fabric I took with me. So unless the Urisk had changed his ragged clothing…which I suppose is a possibility…“Wasn’t that you, Urisk?”

  “I am the Urisk, but we have not eaten together.”

  “But we must have. You said there’s no one anywhere around here, that you’re all alone and lonely. You said you’re the only Urisk in existence.”

  “Well,” he says. “That’s true. I am. And there is no one anywhere around here. I am all alone and lonely. Won’t you stay forever?”

  I continue to stare at him. “So we didn’t just eat together?”

  He looks offended now. “I would remember. I never get visitors. I would remember a visitor in my clearing.”

  “But…then that means there’s two of you.”

  “What?”

  “There are two Urisks. There’s another Urisk just through the trees, not a long walk at all. I just ate with him.”

  The Urisk gapes at me for a moment. And then he bursts into loud, shuddering sobs, burying his face in his hands as he cries messily.

  I don’t know what to do. “But this is good news,” I point out, bewildered. “The two of you can be friends. You don’t need to be alone anymore.”

  “Oh, you are cruel,” sobs the Urisk. “You are cruel, you are cruel, you are mean! Telling me that there are other Urisks in the forest, when I know I am all alone, all alone, all alone.”

  “But you’re not—” I start to protest.

  “Leave!” he shrieks at me, lifting his tear-splotched face from his hands. “Leave! Haven’t you done enough? Leave!”

  “I…” I stammer.

  He rushes at me as if to attack me, and I stumble away from him, not really scared but extremely confused. Then he collapses to the ground in a heap and cries as if his heart is breaking. I stand and stare at him, unsure what to do.

  “He’s not far away,” I venture quietly. “Only about half an hour—”

  “Leave!” shouts the Urisk and throws something at me in anger.

  I dodge it, but when I look at what it was, I realize it’s a key. An old-fashioned scrolled skeleton key. The Urisk is still sobbing behind me.

  “Do you need this—” I start to ask him.

  “Why don’t you go?” he shrieks at me violently.

  I decided that maybe I am making things worse. I tuck the key into my pocket and follow it with a long, thin scrap of fabric I find on the ground. Blue this time. And I continue walking.

  “Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! A visitor! Oh, a friend! A soul! Mate!”

  Another Urisk bounds out of the woods by the new pond I’ve reached, identical to the other Urisks, only this time dressed in yellow rags.

  I sigh, resigned. “I don’t suppose you would believe me if I told you there were two other Urisks living not far from here?”

  His face scrunches in confusion. “But I am the only Urisk! I am all alone in this enormous forest! It is the loneliest life in existence!”

  I sigh and decide it’s not even worth the effort. I walk past him.

  “Won’t you stay?” he calls after me. “I almost never get guests.”

  “Two other Urisks,” I call over my shoul
der to him. “Not far from here. I swear.”

  “You lie!” he accuses furiously. “Why would you tell such a terrible lie?”

  The sound of his sobs carries over the air to me, and I pick up a yellow scrap of fabric, and then I stop and look at the pond I’m standing next to. Maybe I should be checking every pond, I think. Maybe one of them will get me out of here.

  I walk over to the pond, the Urisk still sobbing, and I look into it.

  And there’s me, looking back from the palace, the chandelier beyond my head.

  I lean closer. And tip.

  CHAPTER 19

  I sit up with a gasp. And there I am, back in the large room with Kelsey and Merrow and Trow and Ben and Safford and Will and the Erlking. I am perfectly dry, as if I hadn’t just spent a little while thrashing around filthy ponds. And everyone gives me a look, as if I’m being dramatic for no reason, as if they didn’t even notice that I had gone anywhere at all.

  Maybe I hadn’t.

  But there is a key in my pocket and three scraps of fabric when I check.

  Kelsey hisses at me, “Are you okay?”

  I nod dazedly, because it’s too much to explain right now. I put my hands down on either side of me, bracing against a sensation of falling, even though I am perfectly still. Our guide has disappeared, but instead there is another man blinking down at us, accompanied by a woman. They have the same striking features as our guide, but they are more attractive, their cheeks rosy and their eyes bright with evident amusement. Did they send me to the bizarre forest with the Urisks? Maybe the Hidden Folk are as crazy as the faeries.

  Both the man and the woman have masses of dark hair. The man’s hair curls playfully down to his shoulders, like a French king in the age of Versailles, but the woman’s is gathered into a heavy bun at the back of her neck. Each of them is wearing a heavy gold crown, the sort of ornate, bejeweled affairs you see in illustrations in faerie tales, and this makes sense, since they are dressed in velvet and ermine.