Solomon sat up, looking down at the huge, shaggy dog sleeping next to the couch. She had gone back! Of course. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? Daisy, and probably all Hunting Hounds, had the ability to cross from this world to the Greenweald, and back. If he could figure out how to get her to do it, maybe he could tag along, bring Ed with him.
But the how of getting her to do it he wasn’t sure of. Plus, even if she did understand, he didn’t know if she could also bring him through, let alone Ed, who wasn’t even from the Greenweald. Maybe that wasn’t the answer…but there was something there, he was sure of it.
And there was Luke. What was the connection there? Why was the Soul Gaunt using a human to lure people to it? And why hadn’t it sucked out Luke’s soul when it first encountered him. Lacy obviously still loved the man, and wanted him back with her. She was a good person, and if he could, Solomon would make that happen.
But it all hinged on that Soul Gaunt. If he managed to kill it, or even drive it out of this world, then he could concentrate on saving Luke, and maybe healing Ed, and finally getting home himself. Once there, he could petition Florian to let him find another way to atone for what had happened to Celia.
He wished he could remember what he had done with his sword, Justice. His eyes widened at that. For the first time, he remembered the name, although almost nothing else. How he had gotten it, and where he had hidden it remained lost in the fog. But the fact that he remembered the name was promising. His memories were slowly seeping back.
What else could he remember? What else could help him? He remembered Shireen and Orlando, his best friends in the Greenweald. Each capable of so much, and so much more when paired together. They had been through a lot together, the three of them. If he had told anyone what he had done with Justice, it would have been them.
If he only had a way to reach them. Then, an idea occurred to him, and he looked back down at Daisy and smiled.
CHAPTER 19
The darkness inside the tree swallowed them up as they entered, and Shireen couldn’t see two feet in front of her face. And it was cold. Colder than it had any right to be this time of year.
“Orlando?” she whispered. “Do you feel that?”
“Yes, like those nights up north. Only more…concentrated? Is that right?”
“Yeah, whatever it was, Soul Gaunt or something else, it’s here now.”
She moved forward slightly, clearing the doorway so that Orlando, and Thaddeus if he were coming, could enter as well. To her surprise, the next voice she heard was Thaddeus’s.
“Hold a moment. I have something on my horse that might help.”
The light from the partially opened door dimmed as he ducked back out. Shireen was sure that he wouldn’t return, but gave him the benefit of the doubt. A few moments later, he did return. In the dim light near the door, she saw him move past Orlando and approach her.
“Here, if you’re going first, take this.”
Thaddeus reached out his closed hand to her. She hesitated, then put out her own, palm up. The stone that Thaddeus put there was warm, even in the unnatural cold inside the tree. After a moment, it began to glow with a soft light that grew as she held it.
“What is this?” she asked.
Thaddeus shrugged. “Something I’ve been working on. A toy, really. But maybe here, it would be better than torches?”
She could see Orlando looking at her in the glow of the stone. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s brilliant,” Orlando said. “Can we turn if off if we need to?”
“Well, yes, just close your fingers around it.” Shireen did so, and the glow disappeared. When she opened them again, the glow slowly grew until they could see an area several feet around them. “But I don’t know why we would want to,” Thaddeus said, shivering as he looked around.
“Let’s go,” Shireen said.
“Wait a second,” Orlando said. “Are we sure we want to do this? Would it make more sense to go back to Jediah and Florian and tell them what we found here? Let them send in more than just us?”
“Of course, that would make sense,” she replied. “But what if someone is still alive in here?”
Orlando took a deep breath. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking of that.”
She looked at him and saw the fear in his face that she was sure was reflected in her own, but also the resolve. She saw the same thing in Thaddeus, even if the fear was more prevalent. But to be fair, maybe that was what she expected to see, so she did. He wasn’t showing any signs of running out on them.
Shireen turned to the darkness that stretched out before them and listened. Despite what she had said, she didn’t really expect to find anyone alive in here. Not after what they had seen outside. But she had to know, so she listened for the sound of anyone moaning, or crying. There was nothing but silence.
She walked slowly forward, Orlando and Thaddeus staying close, their swords in their hands, as hers was in her right. The stone glowed softly from her left. As she moved, the globe of light moved with her, and they all stayed as close to the center of it as they could, peering into the darkness, trying to see anything moving at all.
The inside of the Rustling Elms central tree was beautiful, as all of the Folk’s houses were. The living tree had been shaped into pleasing contours, chambers that opened up to unexpected rooms filled with comfortable furniture. Art hung from living hooks shaped from the walls themselves, and sculptures had been fashioned from the very floor, rising up in a variety of shapes.
Shireen remembered that House Rustling Elms had been gaining a reputation. It was a minor house involved in trading, that was its main business. But it had given rise to quite a few prominent artists of the last few decades, who had been becoming more popular. Their fortunes had been shifting, from one of mere trade, to a valued asset of the Folk. Although Shireen herself had never been much for art appreciation, the Folk in general reveled in, and true artists were treated like celebrities.
But now, something had perverted that art the same way that the tree had been damaged on the outside. Many of the pieces were abstract, but now they had been broken, pieces of living wood broken off and cast aside. Some were realistic, but the faces in the paintings, or on the sculptures, had been changed. Where once they had smiled, or looked wistful, or longing, now they looked in pain. Mouths gaped open as if they were screaming, eyes protruding from their sockets.
One particular sculpture had been defiled so badly that they needed to step away from it, nauseated by what it had been turned into.
The rest of the tree had fared no better. Mushrooms grew from the walls, and the floor cracked under their feet. Slimy fungus coated surfaces, and they had to be careful where they put their hands. Dense, heavy cobwebs hung from the ceiling and although they didn’t see anything move, they had the impression that bloated, black spiders waited in the darkness above.
“This can’t be a Soul Gaunt, can it?” Orland whispered. “I thought they were mindless spirits, only existing to take someone’s life force?”
“No,” Thaddeus answered. “That’s not right. They are evil, but intelligent, and cruel. They’ll twist whatever they can, hurt what’s innocent, and destroy what’s left. At least, those were the stories I was told.”
“I thought you didn’t believe us?” Shireen said.
“I didn’t. I do now.”
Shireen admired Thaddeus’s blunt answer in spite of herself. She was beginning to think there was more to the man than simply being the snake in the grass that she had initially had him pegged as. At the very least, he was braver than she had given him credit for.
They moved further into the tree, coming to a wide set of stairs, leading up into the darkness, cobwebs twining among the balusters that had been shaped from the tree. The steps were coated with slime and spongy underfoot, like the wood beneath was rotting even as they carefully climbed.
The second floor was the same as the first. Room after room of decay, some further alo
ng than others. The stairs continued, climbing to a third floor, equally as corrupted as the second. Still, they heard and saw nothing that was alive, nothing that would allow them to save even one person from the massacre.
“This is getting us nowhere,” Orlando said. “Stop and think for a minute, Shireen. If there is anyone in here, they could be anywhere. We’re only on the third floor and we have no idea if we missed anyone on the first two. How many more are there? I think we need to stop, go back and report what we’ve seen and let the Heads of our Houses decided what to do.”
Shireen grit her teeth, staring into the darkness. Orlando was right, and she knew it. He usually was, and was almost always the more rational one. She knew that what he was saying wasn’t out of cowardice, but out of good sense. But still, it rankled her to leave without knowing for certain that there was no one that she was leaving behind here.
“You’re right,” she said. “Let’s head back down and…”
“Wait!” Thaddeus hissed. “Listen. What was that?”
The three froze, and Shireen could hear her heartbeat echoing in her ears. She strained to hear whatever it was that Thaddeus had, but there was nothing but the cold, empty silence of the place.
Then, on the edge of hearing, there was a noise. It was a soft, quiet sound, barely there at all. But she could tell from the others faces that they had heard it too. She stayed perfectly still, willing the noise to come again so that they could try to tell where it was coming from.
When it did, she was sure. It was the sound of someone moaning in pain, or fear, or sadness. Regardless, it was the sound of someone in need.
She looked back to Orlando, who stared back at her with wide eyes and then nodded slowly. Thaddeus did the same.
She raised the hand with the glowing stone in it over head and continued on, walking slowly and as silently as only years as a scout could have trained her for. She listened as hard as she could, trying to keep her eyes focused on what was in front of her while still listening for the noise to repeat.
It did, slightly nearer now. They were closing in on it. The sense of rot and decay around them grew stronger. Moss grew underfoot, but not the soft, springy type that appears unexpectedly in the woods at times, but slimy, with tendrils that grew out and waved as if in a breeze that only they could feel. Huge brackets of hard fungi grew from the walls, pale white at the tips, shading to black near their roots.
The noise came again, and this time there was no mistaking it. It was a moan, from the throat of one of the Folk. There may have been words in it as well, but if so, they were garbled and unintelligible. But it was also full of pain, and close now.
Shireen led them through an arch and into another room, stopping when she saw what was there. The room was very large, and the light from the stone didn’t penetrate the darkness at the other end. But what she could see was different from the rest of the tree. There was no rot in here, no fungus growing, or slimy moss. It looked pristine and clean, untouched by the evil that was killing the rest of the tree.
The moan came again from the far end of the room. Shireen hurried that way, followed closely by the other two.
“By all that’s holy…” she heard Orlando whisper.
She had no words herself. They had found a survivor, of sorts. He wore the robes of an important member of House Rustling Elms. Perhaps he was even the Head of the House, Shireen didn’t know. And it didn’t matter any longer.
He had been hung on the wall, in a gross parody of the art in the rest of the tree. Spikes of wood from broken sculptures pierced his hands and arms. His legs had been crossed, so that one large jagged piece of wood nailed both feet to the wall. His face was a ruin, as if he had been beaten severely and one eye was gone, as well as most of his teeth.
But most horribly, he had been split open, his intestines dragged out and allowed to puddle on the floor beneath him. Why he was still alive was beyond Shireen to figure out, but he was. As she watched, he opened his bloody mouth and moaned again, the same sound that they had been following.
“Get him down,” Orlando said, pushing past her. “Come on! We’ve got to help him!” He grabbed the stake holding the man’s feet to the wall and pulled, but it refused to move. “Help me, damnit!”
Shireen put her sword away and laid her hand on Orlando’s arm. “We can’t save him,” she said quietly.
“Then what? We walk away? Leave him here like this?”
“We provide mercy,” Thaddeus said.
Orlando spun on him. “What do you mean? Mercy? Just say what you mean!”
Shireen pulled him around to her, and gently folded him in her arms. “You know what he means. I’d want the same, and so would you.”
Orlando clung to her for a moment, then pushed himself away. “No, you’re right. Sorry. It just got to me. I’m fine.”
The man on the wall moaned again, only this time, it sounded different. There were definitely words in it, or at least a word. He was trying to say something to them.
“What is it?” Shireen said, nearing the man. “We’re here. We’re going to take care of you.”
She hoped the man heard her and understood that his suffering was going to end. She drew her sword and stepped back, when the man tried to speak again. His tongue came out and licked his lips. His breath rattled in his throat as he tried to speak.
Shireen grimaced, her palms sweaty. Although she had agreed with Thaddeus, and knew it was the right thing to do, she had never killed one of her own people before, and wasn’t sure that she could now that it came down to it.
The man on the wall writhed, pulled his head forward as far as he could, and drew in a shallow, painful sounding breath. He held it for a moment, then expelled it in one final word.
“Ruuuuun.”
CHAPTER 20
The sun slanting in through the windows woke Lacy. She lay there in her bed and took stock. It was early evening now, so she had slept most of the day. She needed it, and even now felt like she could fall back to sleep without much problem.
But there were things to do. She and Solomon still needed to figure out how they were going to help Ed, how they were going to find Luke, how they were going to kill that Soul Gaunt thing, and how Solomon was going to get home. All of which still boggled her mind. She was accepting these events, these fairy-tales, like they were real life without even questioning it.
Ah. Enough of that. She had already been over it again and again. It was either true, or it wasn’t. She had seen the damn Soul Gaunt, been touched by it and felt the effects. She had seen Ed and what had happened to him, and she had seen Solomon carrying him with no apparent effort. There was more going on here than would could be accounted for by everyday life, that was for sure.
She pushed the covers off, swung her legs out of bed, stood and stretched. As she did, she looked out the window at her back yard. It seemed like such a nice summer evening. The type where it would be wonderful to take a dip in the pool, have a glass of wine and throw a burger on the grill. She smiled to herself, remembering several nights when she and Luke had done exactly that. Before the troubles started for him.
They were young when they had met, and it certainly hadn’t been love at first sight. Lacy was working at the local supermarket, ringing people’s groceries though, and Luke was an occasional customer. When he came through her line, he was always polite and friendly, but she thought nothing more of it. He was one of those people who chose to do their shopping every day, rather than once a week or so. She didn’t get it herself. Why spend more time at the grocery store than you had to?
Then, she started to notice that he always came to her lane, no matter how many people were in it, or how long he had to wait. If another lane opened, he smiled and told the person in front of him to go ahead. And soon enough, he would be standing in front of her again, smiling his polite smile.
She was a little creeped out by this at first, but then decided that maybe he was shy. So the next time he came through, she stopped,
stuck out her hand and said, “Hi, I’m Lacy. We’ve never really met, have we?”
His polite smile got even bigger as he took her hand. “Luke. It’s nice to meet you.” But he laughed at the absurdity of it, and she did too. Then, it was the normal thing that happened, and their eyes dropped, and things got awkward. She rang his groceries up, a lime and a package of pork chops, and he went on his way. But when she looked up, he glanced at her at the same time, and lifted his hand in a little wave. She awkwardly returned it, and then turned back to the smirking older woman waiting her turn.
“What?” Lacy asked her.
“Nothing,” the woman replied. “Nothing at all. But…he is cute.”
Lacy didn’t say anything, but she couldn't keep the smile off her face.
It took Luke four more daily trips to the store to finally work up the courage to ask her out. They went to the movies, which is a terrible first date idea, and then to get pie and coffee at Minnie’s, which was better. They talked until Minnie politely but firmly informed them that she was closing up.
Lacy was charmed when Luke walked her to her car, and opened the door for her. He kissed her chastely on the cheek and said that he had had a great time, and would love to see her again. She agreed, and went home with her head in the clouds.
And that had been it. From there on out there had been no one else for Lacy. Luke made her laugh, and made her feel pretty and special. They laughed when they were together, and she missed him when they were apart. When they made love for the first time, it was as if they were meant to be together, and she had never been so comfortable being intimate with anyone before.
They married, bought the house and discussed starting a family. Life was exactly as it should be. Even at times when the money was tight, and there were plenty of those, it didn’t seem that important. They had each other, and Lacy was good with that.
Luke wanted to be a writer and he had talent. His words flowed onto the page, and Lacy loved reading his stuff. It was all far out things, fantasy, sci-fi, and some horror thrown in here and there. He sent out story after story to the few remaining magazines, and manuscript after manuscript to agents and publishers alike. But he never got beyond polite but firm rejections. It was disheartening, but Lacy didn’t let him give up. She believed in him, and believed that he would get his break.
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