Cries and gasps exploded from the crowd; some even sprang to their feet.
“The Ithin!”
“I knew it! Bless water!”
“Ithin! They eat human hearts!”
“They’ll tear it right out of your chest!”
Old Henley got up on his chair again, waving his arms for silence. Emeline gripped Dale’s hand and took a step back, straining to look for Dada, but she couldn’t find him.
“The Theurgists are right!” someone shouted. Several others took up the call, while many more cried out aghast. Old Henley’s mouth was moving, calling for order, but his voice was drowned out; no one was paying him any attention. This was worse than outside the school.
Suddenly, Emeline pictured Mama whistling out to Dada in the fields; her whistle had been sharper and clearer than glass. She put two fingers in her mouth and blew.
The piercing sound broke through the clamor, and not a few people jumped, startled. Then they all went quiet, staring up at her. Dale grinned. He knew that whistle.
“All right, let’s have a civil discussion!” Old Henley rasped into the silence. “Everyone, take your seats!” He gave them a moment to settle themselves. “All right now, remember, we don’t have solid evidence. All we’ve got is something spotted by a pair of children. We shouldn’t get carried away now….”
“Em, you forgot about the lily pad,” Dale piped up. There were sounds of agreement from those who had heard the gossip.
“That’s right, I pulled a lily pad out of the moat and threw it into the trees,” Emeline admitted. “And then…I heard something hiss.” The clamor rose up again instantly.
“They’re afraid of water! I knew it!”
“The stories are true!”
“Brave girl, that one!”
Old Henley managed to catch their attention this time, but even as they dropped their voices, they stared at Emeline. Embarrassed, she saw Fish’s son—the one who had winked—turning to grin at his brother.
“Protected the little ones! That’s a good woman,” he said, just loudly enough. She blushed furiously and stared at the floor.
“Well, that is certainly more suspicious,” Old Henley admitted to the crowd. He stood there for a moment on his chair, scratching his chin. “I suppose we’d best take suggestions on how to proceed.”
More than half of the villagers shot their hands up at once. The old man sighed and waved a hand at Emeline and Dale. “You children better have a seat,” he told them. “We’ll be here a while.”
sky was gray the next morning.
Emeline gazed out the window as she ate a bowl of honeyed porridge next to Dale. Only a dim, dusky kind of light was floating in, and it carried the smell of rain. The clock in the sitting room struck eight, and she heard Dada coming out of the bedroom to put his boots on. He was going with some others to examine the edge of the woods, which was the decision that had finally been made at the end of last night’s meeting.
There had been no discussion of Emeline or Dale coming along, but Emeline stood up and joined Dada in the sitting room. She was not going to sit quietly in the cottage while her father all but strode into the forest. The villagers had called her brave, and if that was true, then she was determined to keep it up. Dale wisely stayed put, even though she knew he hated to miss anything.
Emeline slid on her red cloak and went to stand by the door. Dada stood and frowned, studying her.
“You stay on this side of the water,” he said finally.
“I will.”
Unless you’re in trouble, she added silently, following him out.
The sky hung low over their heads as they walked, leaves and straw skittering past their feet in a fitful breeze. Dada scratched his chin and glanced at her.
“Am I being too hard on Dale?” he asked.
“You didn’t say a word to him,” she said, surprised.
“That’s what I mean. Maybe it’s easier to bear an outburst like your mama used to have than a cold silence.” He sighed. “I just don’t know what to say. I worry about him thinking that risking your life is exciting.”
“He understands,” she said, and slipped her arm through his. “He’s sorry.”
They passed through the village in a comfortable silence. Before too long, the mill loomed large ahead of them, dark against the sky. A broad-shouldered worker nodded at Dada.
“They’re gathering back there,” he said, gesturing. “I wouldn’t go for the kingdom.”
Dada nodded back and led the way around the mill to the long stretch of tall grass where the boys had played their Lash Knight games. There was a small group of villagers there now, clustered at the moat. The trees stood tall and sinister, a gray fog settled around them. Goose bumps prickled Emeline’s arms. No one had crossed over yet to the woods.
The tall farmer Mister Fish was there; Old Henley and his son Alvine; Aladane’s father, Mister Gingern, wearing his apron; the baker Mister Gale; and Sessa’s father, Mister Caldin. There were several other men that Emeline knew only barely, and one woman: Teacher Rylin, who had brought a stack of buckets with her. She stood there with quiet steadiness, inclining her head toward Emeline. The two of them were the only womenfolk.
The men shook hands with Dada; some gave Emeline surprised looks, but a few nodded to her. Thin, soft-eyed Mister Gale smiled briefly. The slate bridge had been laid across the moat again, which flowed along quietly underneath carrying its flowers and weeds. She felt a sudden, unsettling stab of longing at the sight of the lilies, but ignored it. Mister Fish and Alvine Henley held up fish-oil lamps, throwing uneven light over the group.
“Those who plan to cross had better fill a bucket and take it with them,” Old Henley said hoarsely.
His own son bent to fill a bucket and then started across the bridge.
Emeline stood by Teacher Rylin and watched the other men follow suit. They filed across the bridge one by one, sloshing the water in their buckets, and slowly approached the woods with lamps held high.
She shivered under her hood.
“They have water with them, child,” Teacher Rylin said. “They will be safe.”
Emeline nodded. The air still smelled of rain, as well, which would surely keep Dark Creatures at bay. If there were any.
The men separated at the line of twisted trees. They peered in between the branches of the forest wall, cautiously examined bark and leaves, conferred with one another. Emeline watched Dada crouch down to study the tree roots in the grass, holding her breath.
The fog seemed to darken around them. A damp breeze blew out of the forest toward the village, and her black curls swept back from her face.
“I had a letter from my cousin who lives near the capital recently,” Teacher Rylin said, glancing up at the sky. “And she said that some of the Theurgists claim the Dark Creatures exist as a punishment for our loss of belief in magic. But others say that perhaps the Dark Creatures only exist because we do believe.” Emeline looked up at her, surprised. “I wonder if both might be true.”
A sudden cry shocked them both. It was one of the men. Mister Gingern and Dada leaped backward from the trees, covering their faces; Old Henley yelped and stumbled.
On instinct, Emeline lunged for the water in the moat, ready to splash whatever nightmarish thing appeared. The men were scrambling for the slate bridge.
“Rotten flesh!” Mister Gingern roared. Behind him, Mister Fish pulled the bridge back across the water in one powerful, panicked motion. Old Henley was wheezing, and his son patted him on the back, looking terrified himself.
Something brushed her hand and she jumped up, startled. A white lily was standing up out of the water on a very tall stalk. Confused, she stared at it. It had not been there before.
“The smell! It was horrible!” Mister Gale gasped, nearly as white as the lily.
Dada was covering
his mouth, but he dropped his hands when he saw Emeline and wrapped his arms around her. She held still, watching him, but his face was blank.
“Did you see something?” Teacher Rylin asked, her eyes enormous. Men shook their heads. Mister Fish retched for a moment, big man that he was, and turned away.
“The smell just blew out of the trees,” Dada said grimly.
“Stronger than anything!” Alvine Henley exclaimed.
“It wasn’t dead fish, I’ll tell you that,” Mister Gingern said. “It was worse. Much worse. It was wrong.”
A raindrop splashed on Emeline’s nose as Dada let her go. Everyone’s shoulders relaxed a little as the light rain spilled over them. Emeline looked down at the water lily again, a little dazed. The flower bobbed in the rain, a full foot above the water, taller than everything around it—as if its stalk had grown a foot in an instant, right when she had reached for the water.
I should’ve grabbed a bucket, she thought, feeling silly. It was a strange and ridiculous impulse, this flinging of water plants.
“Let’s get out of the rain,” Old Henley told them, looking as if he’d aged a few more years. “Gale, your cottage is the closest. Can we talk there?”
“Of course,” Endrina’s father said. He picked up two of the scattered buckets and led the way across the grass.
“Are you all right?” Emeline asked Dada as they followed.
“Yes, but you go home and stay with Dale,” he told her in a strained voice.
“But Dada, I—”
“Heart. Please. Go to your brother.”
Emeline hurried off ahead of them, pulling her red hood over her head against the rain. What had just happened? The woods had spit out a stench so foul that some of the bravest villagers had run like children. And a water lily had grown…when she reached for it. She slowed to a stop at the sight of one of the canals, rain splashing into it a few feet away from her.
Had it grown…?
But that was impossible.
She stepped toward the canal bank, where the hard-packed ground met the rushing green water. There were lilies and water-starworts clinging to the edge just at her feet. She stretched out her hand and hesitated, staring at the soaking petals, and then, slowly, moved her fingers closer.
A bolt of energy surged through her—a lovely, shimmering energy that lit up her arm with heat.
And a flower shot up to meet her hand.
She shrieked and fell backward onto the ground, muddying her cloak. A pink water lily stood wavering above the surface of the water.
Its stalk had grown to reach her hand.
She had made it grow.
Something from unknown depths inside of her had rushed to the surface, just for an instant. Something extremely unfamiliar.
Emeline leapt to her feet, her heart pounding. She slipped and sprawled on the wet ground again, but she was up in a flash and running, slipping and stumbling all the way back to the cottage.
* * *
It was hours later, nearly noon, when Emeline heard a rap at the door.
She had been sitting up in her room, holding her hands over her collected flowers in their bowls of water and trying to make them grow. Nothing was happening. If any logic applied to what had happened earlier, she supposed that made sense—cut flowers didn’t grow—but she was frightened and had said nothing to Dale. She listened now as he opened the door, and heard a familiar voice.
“Em, it’s Endrina!” Dale called.
Emeline got to her feet and started down the ladder, forcing herself to look composed despite the thin film of sweat on her skin.
Endrina was standing inside the door, shaking the rain off her shawl. She was tall and red-haired with kind features, the same as her father, Mister Gale; like him, she had the look of being all hands and feet, but unlike him, she was beautiful. She greeted Emeline with a hug, but there was tension in her shoulders.
“Give me your shawl,” Emeline said, and hung it by the door. The rain had begun to pour down in earnest after she’d gotten home.
“I brought you a sweet roll, Dale,” Endrina said, handing it to him in a cloth. He perked up immediately and carried it over to the divan.
“Are they still at your house?” Emeline asked.
“Yes, and more have come over. It’s like a meeting, only no one wants to call a real one because there’ll be too much hysteria,” Endrina said hesitantly. She joined Dale on the divan and Emeline sat down in Dada’s chair, watching her.
“Are they writing a letter to the capital?” she asked. Endrina shook her head intently.
“Mister Henley got out the old laws and read them to everyone. It hasn’t happened in so long that nobody really knew…” She paused, then gave an anxious smile. “The law says that sightings of a Dark Creature have to be reported in person. By the witnesses.”
Emeline blinked and Dale stopped chewing his sweet roll.
“The witnesses?” Emeline repeated.
“They have to go report it to the king,” Endrina told her slowly.
“But we’re the witnesses,” Dale said.
Endrina nodded.
“That’s what I’m here to tell you. You two and your dada have to go. They’re discussing the details right now.”
Emeline’s mouth fell open. Dale stared at Endrina and then at his sister, his eyebrows up to his hairline. A second later, he jumped to his feet.
“Em, we’re going to the capital?” he exclaimed. “We’re going to meet the king?”
Endrina laughed at him, the nervousness spilling out of her in a rush. Emeline didn’t move, a tingling mix of fear and excitement spreading through her.
“Are you telling me,” Dale was yelling now, “that we might see real Lash Knights?”
“But how?” Emeline demanded. “It’s so far! We don’t even have horses!”
“Mister Fish is loaning you his big wagon and said he’ll drive you, and Ma’am Kayley’s giving two horses, since hers are the youngest and strongest,” Endrina explained.
“This is unbelievable!!” Dale was practically hopping up and down, but Emeline felt more than a little dizzy. First the flowers and now this. She clenched her skirt in her hands.
“Dale, stop it!” she snapped.
“I don’t know if I wish I were going too or if I’m glad I’m not,” Endrina said bluntly. “It’s all very exciting, but I’d be terrified.” She went to Emeline’s side and put her arms around her shoulders. “I’m already scared, knowing there really is something out there in the woods.”
“But we’ll need—supplies…and money,” Emeline said uncertainly. “And a map? Directions?”
“Dada will take care of all of that,” Dale told her impatiently. “We’re going on an adventure, Emeline! Wait till I tell Aladane!”
next few days were like nothing Emeline had ever known. The hustle and bustle of getting four people ready to leave Equane—and ready to travel to the capital, no less—was overwhelming.
Aladane couldn’t seem to leave Dale’s side, and the two of them were constantly underfoot as Emeline helped Dada pack. Every few minutes, he said something like, “I can’t believe I’m not going…Just think, if I’d run across the bridge like you, I’d be a witness too!” Then Emeline would groan.
Even as she folded clothes, blankets, and dried fish into bundles, she could not quite believe that they were going anywhere. Equane was all she knew. Yes, she had imagined that one day, when she was grown and maybe even married, she would like to travel a little and see some more of the world. But not so soon—so suddenly. Not like this.
With the exception of Mama’s death, her whole life had been sleepy, comfortable, and very, very small. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being suddenly woken up.
It was best to concentrate on packing, so that was what she did. She had three simple dresses, two fis
h-leather bodices, and two nightdresses, all of which she rolled up as best she could. She decided she would also take Mama’s cloak, and wear boots instead of sandals. The north would be colder than Equane, which never had much of a winter.
Everyone said the strong and sturdy Mister Fish was the best road companion they could have. He was not only sensible and handy at repairs, he was the village’s spring-gun champion. At the harvest contest, he hadn’t missed a single shot. She felt better to have him along.
But she was afraid. She was. Their trip was required by law, yes, but they weren’t taking it just to report what they’d seen: It was the safety of the village that really concerned them, and they planned to request protection. It was all people spoke of, whispering together in knots, and she saw the strain of it written in Dada’s face. The moat was supposed to protect Equane, but would it? Could the thing in the trees leap, like a cat? Could it climb an oak? What if, somehow, the thing—the Ithin—got across? The king must send them men.
Dada had not had much to say about the prospect of uprooting his family and taking them to the capital. But he had begun muttering to himself and walking around and around the cottage, his brow furrowed, and when it came time to pack he stood a long time in front of the bookshelves, scratching his chin. Finally, he pulled out the History and a couple of volumes Emeline didn’t recognize and put them into a bag. She saw his pouch of clay and whittling knife go in as well.
She was glad they were bringing the History. She wanted to read about the Keldares on the road. Was it possible the magic they sang of was real? That magic was real? And…more importantly…was what she did with the lilies a kind of magic? Real magic?
What in the kingdom would it mean, if she could actually do magic?
She was afraid to think about it, let alone tell Dada. But in her free moments, she would find quiet spots along the canals and make the lilies twist and grow, one thrilling inch at a time. Each time, it was a sparkling rush of energy, and it was exhilarating. Where did this come from?
Between the Water and the Woods Page 3