by Elise Allen
Galric nodded. He looked scared but determined. “Promise.”
The rumbling was so loud now that even though Flissa saw Galric’s lips move and knew he was saying something else, she didn’t hear it. She took one more peek at the staggering Keeper—closer now—then shimmied up the tangled roots like they were a ladder, so quickly that she was halfway up before her brain registered the fact that the branches felt like no tree she’d ever touched. They felt warm. And kind of soft. More like tentacles than branches. Flissa’s stomach churned, and she was glad Sara had never done a lot of tree climbing. Maybe she wouldn’t notice.
“What’s wrong with these branches?!” Galric shouted loud enough for her to hear over the rumbling. “They’re all fleshy and warm!”
“Ew!” Sara shouted.
Flissa rolled her eyes. So much for Galric taking care of them. “Just climb!” she called down. “The portal is closing and the Keeper is on her way! We need to at least get through this first layer of branches now!”
She stared down at them until they got close to her. She took one last look out at the fast-approaching Keeper. Her hands were outstretched, and Flissa caught the faintest whiff of peanuts in the air, but nothing happened, so they must have been beyond her magical range.
For now.
Flissa quickly slid her body through a long, narrow space between two branches. From here Flissa couldn’t see what was on the other side, and the warmth and malleability of the limbs made her feel like she was slipping between two giant lips. She squeezed her eyes to try to get that image out of her head as one leg slipped through, then another. She hung from her hands, both legs dangling and reaching for purchase until she looked over her shoulder and saw that the ground was only four feet away from her shoes, and looked flat and mossy, so she let go.
It was the right choice. The ground had give, like the padded floors on which she practiced hand-to-hand combat. Flissa looked up immediately and saw Sara’s leg sticking out the same hole she’d just gone through. “You’re doing beautifully, Sara!”
“Flissa?!” Sara’s voice sounded panicked. “You’re there, right?”
“I’m here, right below you. Hold tight and slide your other leg through.”
“This feels really weird and warm, Flissa. I don’t like it.”
The scent of peanuts was stronger now.
“Just hurry. You’ll be fine. I’m fine. But hurry!”
It made Flissa crazy that she couldn’t see what was happening out there. She had no idea how close the Keeper was, or if the other Keeper had joined her. Flissa bounced a little, trying to contain herself as she watched Sara’s left leg dangle lower…then her right leg followed…then finally Sara was there in her entirety, hanging from the lip of the trees. Flissa got up and reached her hands high. She tapped Sara’s legs.
“I’m right here, see? Just drop down.”
“I’m scared.”
Now Galric’s face peered through the hole. “Here. Let me help. Take my hands.”
Galric’s face disappeared and his hands came through. Sara took one, then the other, and Flissa couldn’t even imagine how Galric was contorting himself against the other side of the wall to do it, but he lowered Sara far enough that Flissa could grab her around the waist.
“Got her!” she called.
Galric let go and Sara’s full weight fell into Flissa’s arms. She lowered Sara easily to the ground; then Sara threw her arms around Flissa for a tight hug. Tears filled Flissa’s eyes. The whole world might be spinning and changing around them, but they were still the most important people to one another. That stayed the same.
The smell of peanuts was suddenly overpowering.
“Galric!” Sara screamed.
He slid through the opening, his legs hanging limply as he thumped to the ground next to them, just as the rumbling sound stopped. Sara immediately dropped down next to him. “Are you okay?”
“She got my legs,” he moaned. “I couldn’t move them.” Gingerly, he stretched out one leg, then the other. “I can move ’em now,” he said breathlessly. “I’m okay.”
“It’s because the portal closed,” Flissa said. “We’re in a totally different place from her now. Her magic isn’t strong enough to keep working.”
Flissa’s voice drifted away and she felt dizzy. Thank the universe not all mages had equally strong powers. It was only luck that they hadn’t just lost everything.
Sara helped Galric to his feet. “At least we finished our first job,” she said. “We’re in the Twists.”
“We’re in the Brambled Gates,” Flissa clarified, “a magical border between the Twists and Kaloon. They say it’s filled with obstacles that will destroy anyone who isn’t sanctioned by the Keepers of the Light.”
“Any chance that’s just a legend?” Galric asked uncomfortably. “I mean, it’s not like you hear from anyone who actually made it out, right?” Then his face clouded. “I guess that kinda supports the ‘destroy’ thing, though….”
Flissa looked around to get their bearings. They were in a forest, but not like one she’d ever seen. Trees seemed to grow in all directions—not just up, but straight across too, and at all different heights. Any ground not covered in branches was coated in that same thick moss that had broken Flissa’s fall. Scattered leaves dotted some of the branches, and they swayed in a light breeze that felt cool against Flissa’s skin. She was glad she had her cloak.
The most disorienting thing after their walk under the bright morning sun was the darkness. Everything was cast in blue-black, like twilight. Even Sara and Galric looked colorless next to her. Flissa assumed the sun was blocked out by the tree canopy, but when she looked up, there was no canopy at all. Just more interlaced branches in front of some kind of stretched-out membrane with a vague bluish glow.
Honestly, it looked like skin.
Flissa shuddered.
“There’s light that way,” Galric said. He pointed through the forest to a hint of what certainly seemed like daylight. It was far—maybe three jousting fields away—but there was a clear pathway—perhaps a safe way through?
“Check this out!”
Flissa turned in the direction of her sister’s voice.
Sara had discovered a single-leaf plant that sprouted out of the ground. It had a thick stem, and its green leaf was as large as a person, and curled like a cupped hand. She wandered off the path to look closer.
“Not sure we should leave the path,” Galric said, but Sara didn’t break stride. He looked at Flissa helplessly, and Flissa stifled a smile. Galric clearly hadn’t realized there was no denying Sara’s curiosity. She gave him a shrug and they followed.
“It looks like a chair!” Sara said when they caught up to her. Then she touched the edge of the leaf. “It feels like a chair—like, really, really strong. I’m gonna sit in it.”
Flissa’s palms broke out in sweat. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s a great idea!” Sara countered. “How often are we gonna be in the Brambled Gates with giant chair plants? Once. Twice if you count coming home. Lemme sit real quick, then we’ll go.”
She sat.
Immediately, sharp teeth jutted out of the leaf, and it closed tightly around her. Sara screamed in horror and kicked her legs.
Galric froze, his eyes and mouth open wide, but Flissa acted without thinking. For the first time, she reached her hand into the bag Katya gave them, and she shouted a word she didn’t know existed.
“Scimisword!”
The hilt of a weapon slid into her hand, and in a single motion, Flissa pulled it from the pouch and swung it, hacking the plant off at its base. It screamed an unearthly squeal, then thumped back to the ground, openmouthed. Sara would have fallen with it, but Galric reached out and grabbed both her hands, pulling her to her feet.
Sara coughed and gasped. Her face was red and blotchy, and there were singed spots on her cloak. One of her braided buns had a sunken edge, like it had melted into itself. A burning sme
ll emanated from her body.
“Let go of her,” Flissa snapped to Galric. He looked offended.
“I’m not hurting her!”
“Just do it!”
He stepped away, and Flissa looked around at all the branches. She saw one not far from Sara dangling high in the air. That was the one. Flissa threw her weapon. It swung through the air and sliced the thick branch in two. It reacted like a tortured animal, spasming and squealing like the plant had, but the branch spewed a river of water. Flissa bear-hugged her sister and ran them both under the bracingly cold flow.
“What are you doing?!” Sara spluttered when the water stopped flowing. “I’m soaked!”
“That’s the point,” Flissa said, gasping for air herself. “That plant was digesting you. You were covered in acid. If we hadn’t washed it off, it would have kept eating through you, slowly, until it was too late to do anything about it.”
Sara stared at her, mouth hanging open, water dripping off her nose and hair. Then she started to cry.
“I’m so sorry, Flissa,” she sobbed. “I should have listened. I’m sorry.”
Flissa’s heart broke. She pulled her sister into her sodden arms. “It’s okay. You didn’t know. I didn’t know until I saw it happen. I’d never read about anything like that. It’s not your fault.” She pulled back to arm’s length and looked her in the eye. “We just have to be really careful here. It’s incredibly dangerous, and we’re just in the gateway. We haven’t even made it all the way into the Twists.”
Sara sniffled and nodded.
“Mother needs us to be strong.”
Sara nodded some more. She ran her sleeve over her face, then laughed because it was just as sopping as the rest of her.
“We can do this,” Sara said. Then she giggled again. “You’re really wet.”
Flissa laughed too. Her cloak was so soaked it felt like a million-pound weight on her shoulders. She pulled it off and wrung it out, and Sara did the same with her own. Then Flissa looked at her pouch. “Will it make everything else in there wet?”
Sara shook her head. “I don’t think so. It’s huge in there.” She held a corner of the cloak to the mouth of her pouch. “Back inside,” she said, and the pouch sucked the cloak in. Flissa did the same.
Galric approached, holding Flissa’s sword as far in front of him as he could reach. He looked at it like it might bite him. “Sorry I froze up on you back there,” he said sheepishly. “Great swordwork, though. What is this thing, anyway? You said ‘scimisword’?”
Galric had good reason to look intimidated by the weapon. It was half as tall as Flissa and Sara, with an exquisitely sharp, wide blade with a slight curve. Flissa herself was stunned by it, and even though she could feel the blade in her hand and knew it belonged there, she felt chills and took a step away.
“I said it, yes,” Flissa admitted. “But I never heard the word before. I have never seen a weapon like this in my life.”
“And how did you know the branch would gush water?” Galric asked. “Every branch I ever cut into oozed sap, that’s it.”
Flissa shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe Katya was right,” Galric said, amazed. “Maybe you and Sara have some magic in you after all.”
Sara snorted. “If we were magic, I’d be smart enough not to get myself in stupid trouble.”
But even as she said it, she remembered what Katya had said—that she and Flissa were who they were because they’d been touched by magic, and it had messed them up from birth. Even though her soaking-wet cloak was in her bag, she suddenly felt so weighed down she might as well have been wearing it.
What Sara really needed was time for her and Flissa to sit down and have a long talk. Flissa had sounded so sure that Katya was wrong about how the curse affected them as babies—maybe she could convince Sara too. But that would have to wait until after they got home, when Sara wasn’t so busy constantly coming up with bad ideas that could get them all killed.
Galric held the mysterious scimisword out to Flissa, who looked at it like it was a very appealing poison.
“Take it,” Galric said. “Whatever it is, you’re great with it. And I bet we’ll need it again.”
Flissa stared at the blade, then nodded and took it by its hilt. She raised it and let it settle into her hand, then touched its tip to the tiny velvet pouch on her hip. “Inside,” she said, and the sword whooshed away.
“Now we just have to find our way out,” Galric said.
Flissa frowned. “Weren’t we going to take the—”
She turned, and Sara followed her gaze. Where there had once been a clear path through to the light on the other side of the Brambled Gates, now there was nothing but a tangled network of snaking branches that stretched all the way up. Sara could still see the light at the end where they wanted to go, but there was no longer a way to get there.
“Should we yell for Primka and Nitpick?” Sara asked.
Flissa shook her head. “They ran ahead. If they got out, they’d only risk getting hurt if they came back for us.”
Sara shuddered, remembering the acid leaf. She would never want to put Primka or Nitpick in that kind of danger.
“They’re small and they’re smart,” Galric said. “When we get through, we’ll find them on the other side. Flissa, you think you can find a path?”
Sara smiled. She liked that Galric trusted her sister to guide them, and she could tell that Flissa liked it too.
“Follow my lead and stay close,” she said. “Remember, even if something looks harmless, it probably isn’t.”
Flissa stood on a thick root, pulling apart a curtain of vines for them, when the first branch attacked. Sara saw it whip forward of its own volition, its sharp tip aimed right for Flissa’s temple.
“Duck!” she cried, and Flissa didn’t hesitate. She crouched down as the branch zipped past, exactly where her head would have been. Sara’s heart thumped triple time, and she lunged to Flissa to make sure she was okay, but her boot caught on a root and she thunked to the ground.
Right in front of her, a thick, craggy branch snaked toward her face. Galric yanked her to her feet before it could attack. Clinging to Galric, Sara watched the branch slither past.
“Don’t mess with us!” Flissa yelled to the forest. She was back on the log, brandishing the scimisword. Her face twisted with fury. She looked like the hero of a fantasy tale, and Sara’s heart nearly burst with pride. “I have cut you down before, and I will do it again.”
Still holding her sword high, Flissa turned to Galric and Sara. “I think it’s safe to say two things. One, we know how the path went away. This forest is very much alive and moving, and two, it is very much unhappy with me for slicing into it. The good thing is, I’m sure it doesn’t wish to be sliced again, so as long as we stay vigilant, we can get through. Sara, this way!”
Flissa again pulled back a curtain of vines, and when they started wrapping around her arms, Flissa merely flicked her wrist and the incredibly sharp sword sliced several of them away. The other vines released her immediately. “Come on.”
But Sara shook her head. She didn’t have a sword, or Flissa’s coordination. One plant had already tried to eat her. If another attacked, Flissa might not get her away fast enough. “I can’t.”
“You can,” Flissa said, her eyes flashing. “You said it yourself, how many times are we going to be in the Brambled Gates? Now we’re here, and we’ll show them who’s boss.”
“I’ll come with you,” Galric said. “I’ll be right next to you. Come on.”
Galric held Sara’s hand, and they climbed onto the log. It tried to roll under their feet as they walked, but Flissa touched the edge of her blade to it and it quickly stopped.
“Tell me,” Galric said as they balanced down the log and through the curtain, Flissa right behind them, “how does the Princess Flissara thing work? Do you guys split up specific princess duties, or just kinda go with whoever’s in the mood for what?”
&nb
sp; Sara knew what he was doing. Just like when they were climbing out of the pit beneath the castle, he knew she’d be less nervous if he kept her distracted.
“This way,” Flissa said. She climbed to the top of a tall pyramid of knotted roots and branches.
“What do you think?” Sara replied to Galric as she followed in Flissa’s footsteps. “You’ve been with us for a while now. Think you know who you saw when?” A thin root wrapped itself around her ankle and she called, “Flissa!”
Flissa sliced her blade across the top branch. “Stop it!” she yelled to it. “You mess with them, you mess with me!”
The branch retracted. Sara took a deep, shaky breath.
Galric urged her forward as he answered. “Well, before yesterday, I only saw you do those speeches on the palace balcony. Or waving from some processional through town. I guess that could have been either one of you.”
“Processionals are more Flissa’s thing,” Sara said, “especially if it’s just riding through on her horse. I usually do speeches, though I always try to Flissara it up when I’m talking.”
Galric laughed. “Flissara it up?”
“Well, yeah,” Sara said. “Flissa’s usually a little more formal than I am, and I like to say whatever pops into my head, so Flissara’s kind of in the middle. It’s the same reason Flissara trips sometimes, even when Flissa’s playing her. It’s on purpose.”
They were at the top of the pyramid now, right next to Flissa. “And it’s not easy,” Flissa said. “I believe it’s far simpler to tame a stallion than to realistically fall when you don’t actually need to.”
“I believe it,” Galric said.
“I’m also the one who does fairs and festivals,” Sara said. “I like hanging out with our people.”
“It’s hardly as if I dislike our people,” Flissa said. “I just can’t bear the gossip. It’s awful in the towns, but even within the palace, it’s bad. And Mitzi’s the worst. Like I care the Duke of Rafleston said he wants to marry us one day.”
Sara couldn’t believe it—how had Flissa never told her this? “Mitzi told you that?!”
“Yes,” Flissa said, starting down the other side of the pyramid. “Which is ridiculous because the duke is nineteen years old.”