by J. J. Faulks
“That won’t work,” she said. She stepped away from the hedge, freeing herself as the vines sank back into the earth. “You can’t break them.”
“We need to think of something,” Beighlen said. Still on his knees, he ran his fingers over the ground. “Have you tried jumping over them?”
Orleigh nodded. “They still catch me.” She had jumped the boundary as a child, but had ended up tumbling to the ground as the vines caught her ankles and pulled her down.
“Will you try again?” he said, peering up at her.
“It doesn’t matter how high I am, they still catch me,” she said and thrust her arm over the boundary. “Look!”
The vines shot up, faster than before, capturing her arm. She stared hard at Beighlen, and quirked her eyebrow. “Believe me now?”
Beighlen sat back, scowling at the earth and kicking it with his heels. “So what are we going to do?” he asked, a sharp edge to his voice.
“I don’t know,” she said. Her lips drew tight and she gave a half shrug. “Maybe I should just go back. Maybe running away isn’t such a good idea.”
He shook his head. “No. No way! Orleigh, you can’t stay here,” he said. “You belong in the Land of Mortals. We just need to get off the estate and everything will be fine.”
The vines that wrapped around her wrist had weaved themselves together, forming intricate plaits and knots. Just like threads. She frowned, her lips pursed. Threads! She grinned.
“The vines look like threads!” she said. “Do you think you could weave them like you do when you makes dreams?”
Rocking forward onto his knees, Beighlen reached out and touched the vines that extended upwards from the ground. “Maybe,” he said and shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Orleigh pulled her hand back and the vines retreated. “When I put my arm out, you try weaving the vines as they emerge. Ready?”
Beighlen nodded, a single, firm nod.
She held her hand at the edge of the boundary. “Three, two, one. Go!”
She stuck her arm over the boundary, causing the vines to dart out from the grass. As they shot up, Beighlen held his fingers out just as he had when spinning the vision. His face was tight with concentration.
The vines slowed, dragging through the air, and they struggled against Beighlen’s force like eels battling against the current. They writhed and snapped to free themselves, yearning to reach her arm, but Beighlen’s fingers moved quickly, pulling them away from their desired trajectory and weaving them into a dense knot.
“Quick! Jump over!” he shouted.
Orleigh leapt over the mass of vines, almost bowling into Beighlen as she did so. Her feet slipped from beneath her as she landed, and she fell forwards onto her hands. Picking herself up, she scrabbled towards the hedge, hauling herself away from the boundary. When she looked back, the vines had gone.
“Are you all right?” Beighlen asked. He rose to his feet and offered her a hand.
But Orleigh stood without his assistance. She wiped the mud from her hands and knees, and she nodded. “I’m fine.”
She took one final look at the house and grounds that had held her for the past ten years, and then she turned to the gate that led into the darkness of the Great Forest. “Let’s go.”
*
The Seer stared into the bowl of water, his matted hair falling like a dusky curtain around his face. He searched the depths, but no matter how hard he looked, Orleigh did not appear. The girl had vanished. Ever since her argument with the Dreamspinner she had avoided the fountain, and it left him blind.
The sand rained down, as incessant as the monsoon. He turned his attention to Piprin, gripping the sides of the bowl with both hands. “You must not fail.” The boy was his last chance. “You cannot fail!”
Part Four
Chapter Thirty-One
SNAP.
Two shadowy figures blocked the path ahead. Piprin clasped the vial that hung around his neck, his legs rooting him to the ground, and he prayed to the gods.
“Please protect me. Please don’t let me die,” he whispered.
The creatures skulked closer, stepping around the scattered beams of sunlight.
His legs shook and he gripped the vial so tight that it might shatter. “Please, if this is how it must be, please don’t let me suffer.”
The creatures crept closer still, the whites of their eyes flashing through the dark, their heavy breaths mingling with the humid air.
He prayed one final time, mouthing the words as he asked Nestra that his mother and brothers would be watched over and cared for.
“Mother dear, hold them near, please warm their hearts and home. Send them love, send them hope, wherever they shall roam.”
A beam of sunlight struck one of the creatures, illuminating it for a moment before it slunk back into the darkness. The light was just enough for Piprin to tell that creature did not have talons or horns or teeth like the Seer had promised. The creature looked, well, human.
“Hello?” Piprin said. His voice squeaked. Clearing his throat, he tried again, “Hello?”
The figures stopped. In the darkness, they turned to one another, sharing in a low mutter. One of them stepped forward, embracing the light.
“Hello?” the person replied, a girl’s voice. “Who’s there?”
The ray of sunlight scattered like a halo on top of the cascade of strawberry blonde curls. The girl’s nose, with its delicate dusting of freckles, wrinkled, and her ice blue eyes sparkled like early morning frost. Ten years had passed, but there was no one else it could be.
“Orleigh?” Piprin stepped out of the shadows. His heart lurched into double-time.
“Piprin?” Orleigh said, her lips cracking into a grin. She pulled her arm free from the reach of her companion and rushed towards him, flinging her arms around him. Her hands clutched the back of his shirt. “I thought you were dead,” she whispered.
Piprin hugged her close, his fingers tangling through the curls that tumbled down her back. Flyaway wisps tickled his nose as he breathed in the subtle scent of roses.
“No,” he said. “I thought that you were dead. When I found out that you were living in the Land of Gods, I came to find you. I came to bring you home.”
“I’m already taking her home,” Orleigh’s companion said. He emerged from the darkness, his green eyes vivid with jealousy as they scowled at Piprin. “But you can come with us, if you like. I’ll see you home safely too.”
Piprin loosened his hold, letting Orleigh step out of his arms. He frowned at the man, with his puffed out chest and condescending tone that cut him down to the size of a child. If only the man were older, his skin slacker and crinkled like leather; if only he were sinewy, his muscles softer with a strength that was less obtrusive; if only he were plainer, with features that blended into his face and a face that blended into the crowd, he would remind Piprin of his father. But time could never be so unkind to such a man.
“Piprin, this is Beighlen,” Orleigh said, her open hand bridging the gap between them. “He’s a demigod.” She turned towards Beighlen. “Beighlen, Piprin is a friend from my village.”
“A mortal?” Beighlen sneered. “How did you manage to enter the Land of Gods?”
Piprin held up the vial so that they could both see. “It contains immortal blood,” he said. Orleigh’s fingers rose to her throat, touching a similar vial. “You have one too?”
Orleigh nodded. “Beighlen’s mother is Nestra. She gave it to me for protection.”
“Nestra!” Piprin’s eyes lit up as he looked to Beighlen. “My mother used to tell us myths about Nestra, and we pray to her all the time in our village.”
“I know.” A cold glimmer passed over Beighlen’s face. “Your mother has been praying for your safe return. Whilst you’ve been out here playing the hero, I’ve been delivering messages from my mo
ther trying to bring your mother comfort.”
Piprin’s smile fell, his brow creasing. “Is my mother all right?”
A howl echoed through the forest, like a wolf praying to Tallesi, goddess of the moon, followed by the sound of paws clawing at the earth, dishevelling the leaves and scraping through the mud beneath.
Beighlen glanced around and said, “We need to keep moving.” He started walking, his shoulder bumping into Piprin’s as he pushed past. “Come on then, if you’re joining us.”
But neither Piprin nor Orleigh moved.
“You visited Meila?” Orleigh asked. Her smile had vanished too. “When did you visit Meila?”
Beighlen halted mid-stride. He paused before turning to Orleigh. As he faced her, his eyes darted downwards, his fingers wrapping around the back of his neck as he lifted his shoulders in a stilted shrug. “I told you that my mother had sent me to deliver a message.” His gaze flickered up and his mouth twisted into a sly smile. “Remember?”
“But that was before I asked you for help,” Orleigh said, her eyes narrowing. “You said that you only visited my village after I told you what I found.”
The smile contracted into a hard line as Beighlen clamped his mouth shut and sucked in his cheeks, accentuating the chiseled angles of his face.
“You knew, didn’t you?” she hissed. She lunged towards Beighlen, her finger stabbing him in the chest, no longer puffed out but now deflated. “That’s what you and Teymos were arguing about, that’s why you were mad at him. He asked you to lie for him and you did.”
Beighlen held his ground, but crossed his arms over his chest, blocking the accusing jab of her finger. “It’s complicated,” he muttered, his frown casting a shadow over his face.
“What’s so complicated about the truth?” Orleigh demanded, her voice cracking. She turned her head away, just long enough for Piprin to catch the shine of tears lighting her eyes before she banished them with a blink and returned to stare Beighlen down.
“Teymos said that he was trying to protect you and he said that if I wanted to protect you I had to lie too,” Beighlen said. “I didn’t have a choice.” He threw his arms up for emphasis, the lightness of the movement betraying the heft of his decision.
“And what made you change your mind? What made you decide that I deserved your help?”
“My mother told me about your mother, about Alea,” Beighlen said. “She said that Alea would have wanted you to be raised in the Land of Mortals.”
Orleigh paused, the anger draining from her face. “She knew my mother?”
“Yes,” Beighlen said. His hands settled on his hips, but only for a moment before he started gesticulating again. “She was the one who sent those letters to Teymos. She was there for your birth—she saved your life!” He let out a hollow laugh, as if he found something darkly amusing about the circularity of it all.
Piprin, near invisible where he stood behind Orleigh, took a half-step forward, edging himself into the conversation. “But why was Nestra present for Orleigh’s birth?” he asked.
“Because Teymos sent her,” Beighlen said. He ran one hand through his hair. Something softened in his eyes as he spoke to Orleigh, a shimmer of gold igniting and encircling the emerald green. “He was in love with Alea. The ‘A’ on the brooch that you found, that was for ‘Alea’.”
Orleigh fell into a long silence, broken only by the sound of paws padding against the ground as the animals stole through the forest. “The woman in the story…that was my mother?”
“What story?” Piprin asked.
High above them a branch lurched and groaned, teetering under the weight of a shadowy figure. The shadow screeched, unfurling its wings, feathers jagged against the dim and dappled light that leaked through the treetops, and it sprang to a neighbouring tree.
With her neck craned up to the creature above, Orleigh said, “Teymos told me a story, something about a god falling in love with a mortal woman but the woman ran away in order to escape her fate. He said that he made it up.”
The shadow leapt again, pushing off with such force that the branch creaked, bent and snapped. It crashed to the floor, buffeting back and forth off lower branches on its way. Piprin, Orleigh and Beighlen backed away, their arms coming up to shield their faces. The thick wooden limb hit the bed of leaves, only strides away from where they stood, sending up a cloud of needles and dirt that mushroomed over their feet. The eye-like gnarl at the centre of the branch blinked and then fluttered shut.
“We need to get going,” Beighlen insisted. “Come on.” He put his hand out to touch Orleigh’s shoulder, but she shrugged him off.
“I think I’ll walk with Piprin,” she said.
“Fine,” Beighlen replied, the sharpness of his tone cutting through his nonchalant shrug. As he stalked off, he called over his shoulder, “But you’d better keep up, both of you. The Great Forest is no place for mortals.”
Piprin motioned for Orleigh to follow and he walked by her side, matching her pace for pace. Each time that he glanced up at Beighlen, the demigod was further and further away.
The air grew hotter, the forest darker, as they walked towards the borderland. Piprin’s clothes stuck to him like a second skin. It was so humid that he could no longer tell what was sweat and what was moisture from the air.
The sounds of the animals pursued them, heavy paws and ragged breaths never far behind. Damp fur and the tang of blood filled his nostrils, clogging his lungs. He tried breathing through his mouth, but it offered little relief.
“Hurry up!” Beighlen called out from the edge of the gloom.
Piprin stumbled as his toe caught on the roots that spread like talons over the ground, his heart leaping to his mouth, but Orleigh caught his arm, steadying him.
“Thanks,” he murmured. He withdrew his arm, ready to set off again, but Orleigh’s grip tightened, holding him back.
“I need to stop,” she said, her breath fast and heavy. “I’m too tired.” She leant forward, resting against her thighs. “It feels like I can’t breathe, like there’s not enough air.”
“We can’t stop,” he said, though his legs were screaming and he would give anything just to lie down on the soft cushion of leaves that covered the forest floor. “Come on. Let’s keep going and I’ll tell you a myth. Do you remember the myth of Kraion?”
“Yes, but I’d like to hear it again,” she said.
Piprin draped one arm under her shoulders, helping her back to standing. On heavy legs they stumbled along together, his arm still around her, propping her up—or was it the other way around?
The myth was a tale of struggle and perseverance. Piprin could only hope that it would provide enough of a distraction to keep them both going until they reached the Land of Mortals.
There once was a lake so vast that people said it was infinite. No matter how far sailors ventured upon its waters, they never saw the opposite shore. On a rock overlooking the lake was a small house. It was here that Kraion lived with his wife and daughter.
Kraion had once been an experienced fisherman, but after a devastating storm claimed the lives of his son and crew, he did not dare set out on the water again. Years later, fishermen still continued to visit Kraion in his home, seeking his advice before they set sail.
One day, one of the fisherman reported the sighting of a most magnificent fish. It was as large as a boat and bore scales that shone with the colours of the rainbow. Word soon spread about the fish and it was not long before hoards of people flocked to the lake hoping to see the fish for themselves.
Then the competition began, with fishermen placing bets as to who would be the first to capture the creature. Each of them sought Kraion’s advice, but Kraion refused to help them. Such a beautiful creature was not destined to be killed by a mere mortal, Kraion thought.
As the crowds grew larger, the demigod Haelus arrived in the village
in disguise and sought out Kraion’s advice, for he too wanted to catch the fish. Unaware that he was speaking with one of the immortals, Kraion refused to help Haelus just as he had refused to help the fishermen. Haelus offered Kraion a generous reward, but still Kraion would not be swayed.
Kraion’s daughter, Kara, overheard Haelus’s offer. Times had been hard since her brother had died and since her father refused to go out on the water. She knew that they needed the reward, and so she approached Haelus on her own. Kara could not claim to be as experienced as Kraion, but she had learnt much from him and was willing to share her knowledge with Haelus.
However, Haelus was not content with Kara’s knowledge alone. Haelus thought Kara to be the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he decided that she would return to the Land of Gods with him—once he had caught the fish. He set sail immediately, taking Kara with him.
Word of Haelus’s departure and Kara’s capture soon reached Kraion. Kraion knew that he had no choice but to take his boat out of harbour and pursue Haelus if he ever wanted to see Kara again. Kraion retrieved the trunk that he kept under his bed and removed from it a mighty sail of fine golden cloth. The golden sail had not seen light since Kraion’s son had died.
Kraion knew the waters well, but Haelus had a good head start. Although he thought that he was gaining on Haelus’s ship, it always remained out of reach. For thirty days and thirty nights, Kraion pursued Haelus across the endless waters. He faced brutal storms and relentless sun, but his determination never lessened. He would follow that boat to the end of the Earth if that was what it took to rescue his daughter.
On the thirty-first day, Kraion caught sight of something moving just below the surface of the waves, swimming alongside his boat. Kraion stared down into the water. The creature was huge, and it had scales that shone with the colours of the rainbow. It was the fish that the crowds in the village spoke of. The fish was even more magnificent than they said.
The fish broke through the water, gliding elegantly into the air. Kraion could have sworn that the fish looked right at him before diving back down and picking up speed. Peering over the edge of the boat, Kraion searched for the fish, but it had gone.