Finn squeezed his shoulders tight. “Don’t you dare let that happen. And don’t let her do anything bloody stupid, like invoking the Green Man to undo this. We all know what kind of mess that got us into.” He paused, regretting his words. “Don’t tell her I said that.”
When Sithias didn’t answer he gave him a hard stare. “Agreed?”
“Yesss, I’ll do my utmossst bessst.”
He let go, patting his shoulders. “I had you all wrong. You’ve been a good friend, Sithias.”
Gulping loudly, Sithias nodded with tears running freely.
Finn dropped his gaze to Fate, wanting so badly to be the one to clean her wounds and watch over her recovery. Lifting her hand to his mouth, he kissed the rope burns on her wrist. The ribbon he’d given her was soaked in blood and muck, the ends frayed. It was garbage now. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his leather pouch of holy blend and set it on her stomach.
If only he could stay to whisper a wonderful future into her ear while she slept and healed. To be by her side as the rose returned to her cheeks and see the fire in those brown eyes when she awoke. To be able to kiss her warm, eager lips without holding back. To envision a life together and set their feet upon a path of their own choosing, free to love each other every day without fearing some horrible consequence.
If only he could stay.
He looked at Sithias. “Don’t let her wait for me. Make her leave. I couldn’t take it if she put herself in jeopardy trying to find some way to free me.”
“You wouldn’t sssay that if you knew how long she’sss waited for you already,” Sithias said, the tears dripping off his quivering chin.
“If you have to, tell her I’m okay with this. Tell her this is bigger than us––that we need to sacrifice our own personal happiness for a grander purpose. Make her move on.” It killed him to have Fate think he’d accepted this so easily when leaving her felt like his heart was being cut out.
Sithias nodded solemnly as Gerdie ran up to them. “What’s…going…on? Is Mugloth…back?” she asked, out of breath from running up the hill. Her eyes grew round with shock as her gaze trailed along the towering height of the Green Man. “What’s that?”
“Goodbye, Gerdie,” Finn said hoarsely, too emotional to explain.
“Finn?” she said, looking confused and afraid.
Shaking his head, he lifted off and flew over to the riven oak. The seawater had cleansed the bones and centuries-old layers of blood from the two hollowed halves of the trunk. He landed, taking his place within the deep cleft of the splayed tree. As the Green Man lifted the huge halves and brought them up around him, the wood cracked and moaned mournfully, as did his spirit. The fear in him unraveled as every ounce of his being rebelled against an existence he could not begin to fathom. His life was slipping away. He would never again feel the sun on his face and breathe the free air, or know the touch of Fate’s skin against his.
Finn looked at the stars, glittering like diamonds scattered over black velvet. Feeling so very alone, he reached up to the dazzling sky, his view shrinking as the oak closed and sealed him off from everything he loved.
Completely and irrevocably.
Chapter 34
"NO, IT'SSS NOT FRAGEEL, it’sss fragile. Asss in sssmile,” Sithias said, underlining the word on the chalkboard so hard he broke the stick in half. “Oh now look what you’ve made me do.” He bent to pick up the chalk.
“What does smile have to do it?” Gerdie said, crossing her arms in frustration. “And who needs a fancy word for weak anyway? Just say weak.”
Sithias popped up, his back straight and chin tucked in. “A good writer needsss a varied vocabulary to expresss a rich and interesssting ssstory.”
“I don’t want to be some brainy writer, I only need the basics of readin’ and writin’.”
“We’ve been at thisss every day for a month. Now that you do know the basicsss, it’sss time to move onto more advanced lessonsss,” he said, frowning at her through his monocle, which was really only for looks. He’d thrown himself into the role of “headmaster”––an idea he’d gotten from some book Fate had conjured for him back in Beldereth. A role that inspired him to shift into an elderly man wearing a white tie, a goofy black gown and a silly square board on his head with a tassel that tickled his nose and made him sneeze.
“It’s borin’ and it’s hurtin’ my head.”
“Boring, use your g’sss in your ingsss,” he corrected.
“I am quitting school. This class is dull,” she said, saying each word precisely.
“Oh! Nice sssynonym for boring. You get a cookie for that one.”
“That’s just skippy,” Gerdie muttered. Rising from her desk, she walked to the big window to stare at the deep shadows of the forest on the other side of the pier and the hills rising in green swells to where the giant oak stood, its wide canopy sprawled protectively over its saplings––if they could even be called that anymore. Their trunks had thickened to the size of centuries-old oaks. The rapid growth continued to amaze her. She’d never seen a more beautiful forest.
At least one good thing had come from Finn being sealed away.
Ever since that horrible night though, things had been touch and go. Fate’s blood loss was so great there were moments when Gerdie thought she might not survive. But she didn’t give up on her. She force-fed Fate her magically brewed fennel and seaweed tonics for a solid week before she was conscious enough to drink them herself. At least the broken legs had been easy enough to set while she was unconscious.
Pulling her through her injuries was the easy part. Telling her why Finn wasn’t there when she awoke was a whole lot harder. She became hysterical and inconsolable. When nothing would help, Gerdie had added valerian root to the tonics to calm her. The herb ended the crying jags and allowed her to sleep, which she did a lot for another few weeks. But when the resilience of youth kicked in and she could no longer sleep as much, she wouldn’t talk, no matter how much Sithias tried to get her to respond. She’d just lie in bed staring up at the ceiling, pale as snow and so very…fragile.
Sithias stepped up next to her, his gaze fixed on the giant oak. “How long do you think she’ll be up there today?”
As soon as she was strong enough, Fate spent every day sitting at the base of the tree. Her nights would’ve been spent there as well if Sithias didn’t keep bringing her back to the inn after she fell fast asleep. She’d also become frightfully thin and they’d had to be diligent about making sure she ate. Gerdie suspected the few bites she did eat were only to appease them. It was beginning to look like Fate might not ever regain her zest for life. She was practically a ghost haunting the halls––floating to keep the weight off her legs––with a lost look in her eyes.
“The weather’s getting’ warmer every day,” Gerdie replied. “She’s almost got no reason to come inside.”
“Or any reassson to live, it would ssseem,” Sithias said with a heavy sigh. “What elssse can we posssibly do to bring her back to life? I’m afraid if we don’t, we’ll be ssstuck on thisss island forever.”
“I’ve been thinkin’ on that. Fate’s legs are pretty much mended. She’s still pasty, which tells me her blood’s not where it should be, but that’ll right itself in time, so long as she keeps drinkin’ the tonics. What she’s got is a soul sickness, and the only cure for that is hope.”
“How do you propossse we do that? Short of giving her paper and pen ssso she can write Finn out of that tree––which we’ve told her isss not an option––I can’t think what that might be.” He gave her a sudden look of horror. “Oh dear, you’re not thinking you can do it, are you? Jussst because you’ve usssed the Wordsss of Making to conjure food sssupplies and improvementsss to our living conditionsss doesssn’t mean you can ussse them to free Finn. I didn’t teach you to read and write ssso you could throw usss into deeper trouble with the Green Man or some entirely different problem.”
“Relax, I only look like a dumb kid,” Gerdie sai
d, openly wearing her annoyance.
“Then what are you planning? A potion or sssome sssort of ssspell?”
“Nope, somethin’ even better, the old carrot-on-a-stick trick.”
Sithias frowned. “That’sss your grand idea? I know I don’t have to tell you how much she lovesss being in cocoa heaven, and what a cocoa hell it’ssss been for me baking all thossse chocolate cakesss, piesss, triflesss, trufflesss, browniesss and fudge jussst to get her to take a nibble. And did she touch any of it?”
“Nope.”
“Then what makesss you think she’ll want a carrot ssstick?”
“Huh. Whaddya know,” Gerdie said, smiling as she moved to the door. “I know somethin’ you don’t for a change.”
Sithias handed her the jar of cookies he kept on his desk. “Take thessse in cassse your carrot failsss to entice.”
•
The lilting notes of a flute floated down from the heart of the woods, tugging at Fate with an invitation to follow. She weaved her way through the trees, knee deep in a lake of ferns and bluebells. The scent of lilacs perfumed the air as she ran her fingers over sun-dappled leaves and climbed the gentle incline to the immense, ancient oak on the hill. As she pushed through the dense foliage into the open, where the massive trunk marked the grove’s center, the notes shivered over her skin, reverberating throughout her entire being.
He stood by the oak, lost in his music, his eyes closed and fingers tapping the wooden flute. He was as familiar to her as her own face in the mirror, yet every time she reached for his name it slipped from her mind. Heart thief is what she called him, because he kept stealing precious memories from her, drawing them out one by one with his beguiling melodies, leaving her with nothing but shadowy remnants. She tried desperately to hang onto what little was left, but her shiny treasures and sacred wounds escaped like smoke through the cracks of her fingers. She was angry with him for wielding this power of forgetting over her. Even words had been taken from her, making it impossible to voice her complaint.
As he emptied her heart of pain and all her attachments to the past, peace filled the hole in her chest, making her sleepy. Helpless to resist the tranquil music, she settled down into the moss and laid her head on the roots. The flute’s notes mingled with the breeze rustling the leaves, and together the piper and oak tree sang a lyric only the soul could understand, a song of forgiveness, of letting go and moving on. But Fate didn’t want to move on. If she could stay asleep and keep dreaming this dream, then maybe she would cease to exist and her quiet end would become a beautiful beginning.
A discordant, wild note sliced through the serene melody, cutting it short with a jarring abruptness.
Waking with a shock, she sat up within the mossy indentation beneath the oak. An unnatural stillness fell over the surrounding forest, a loud silence that saddened her as the afterglow of forgetfulness faded and her wits returned. She’d been dreaming of Finn again. The gnawing ache in her heart returned. She didn’t want to believe he might be trying to communicate with her through her dreams, because then she’d have to accept what he wanted, which was to forget him and leave the island. But the dream was persistent. He was persistent.
Well, she could be just as stubborn. She’d vowed to stay by his side until her dying day––which might never come if Gerdie was any example of what she was in for, but that didn’t matter. She couldn’t leave him. Summoning the Green Man to destroy Callum had been her doing. She should be the one locked inside the oak, not Finn. He shouldn’t have had to sacrifice himself, not after he’d fought so hard and long to be free of Mugloth. Yet here he was, a prisoner again. All because she’d been careless with her words.
As always, whenever she followed this line of thinking, the temptation to use the Words of Making to go back in time and avoid her original mistake rose beneath her skin like a sudden itchy rash that wouldn’t go away.
The wind rushed in, blasting her in the face and shaking the oak’s branches with the noisome thrashing of leaves. Acorns rained down on her and a swallow swooped in, pecking the top of her head.
“Ow!” she cried, rubbing her scalp. Glancing around, she wondered if Finn had called the wind and directed the bird to dive-bomb her. She decided to test her theory. “Finn,” she croaked, her vocal chords unused to speaking. “I’m going to rewrite this fable and free you.” She waited for another violent wind and a swarm of wrens to attack her.
The wind hushed as if to listen but that was all.
She sighed. Was her dream more of a torturous nightmare, in which she imagined they were connected in some way? She wished she knew what it was like for him inside the oak. Was he even conscious anymore? She prayed he was at peace and one with nature like in her dreams. But she couldn’t shake the notion he might be suffering the same isolation and fear she’d gone through when Mugloth had dragged her down into the hollow.
There was no description in the Book of Fables as to what he was experiencing. Hoping to find a clue, she’d read the passage until it was scorched into her brain: At long last, a Druidh of great power named Emrys, came to Innith Tine and purged the island of Mugloth’s darkness. The Green Man, the oldest of the Olde Ones, rose from the earth and sealed Emrys inside the ancient oak to ensoul the tree and renew the forest. With this new cycle begun, the island became a sacred place for the annual Alban Eiler Druidhean pilgrimage once again.
Her hand flew to the ribbon around her neck––the one Finn had given her––stroking the silk in an attempt to soothe her misery. Gerdie had done her best to clean it but the fabric remained a mottled gray, the ends so frayed they were practically tassels now. Fate didn’t care about that. She had tied the small pouch he’d left behind to the ribbon to keep them both close to her heart. Lifting it to her nose, she breathed in the rich earthy scent of the holy blend inside the soaped leather. If she closed her eyes, she could almost fool herself into believing he was near.
But almost wasn’t good enough. Tears burned behind her lids as a monstrous pain clawed its way up from her stomach into her chest, ripping a sob from her throat.
“Fate?”
Opening her eyes with a start, she saw Gerdie peering at her through the vegetation. She wiped her eyes, turning her head away. Why didn’t they understand she just wanted to be left alone? Talking only made the sorrow worse.
“I brought chocolate chip cookies,” Gerdie said, holding up the jar.
Fate’s stomach twisted with nausea at the thought of eating.
Gerdie nestled in amongst the wildflowers and sat down up to her neck in colorful blossoms. “There’s somethin’ you need to know.”
Blinking to hold back the tears, Fate looked up into the oak’s sprawling canopy.
“Back home where I come from there’s this secret door my family’s been hidin’ for a long, long time,” Gerdie said. “We’ve kinda been guardin’ it to make sure nobody finds where it leads, to this place called the Keep.”
This unexpected topic of conversation momentarily pulled Fate’s attention away from her pain. Lowering her gaze, she stared past Gerdie, listening with vague interest.
“It’s like a big city closed in by a cage of turnin’ hoops. And there’s all these vaults inside. Thousands of ‘em. Each one holds powerful magic.” Gerdie fell quiet and waited.
The buzzing of bees droned in the silence as Fate tried to make sense of what she was being told. She looked at the ancient six-year-old, questioning her with a frown.
Gerdie leaned in, her eyes bright now that she had her attention. “Don’t you get it? There’s gotta be somethin’ in the Keep that’s powerful enough to put things right with Finn. And I can get you there.”
Fate wrestled with her locked mind, wanting to know more, but afraid to allow the slightest grain of hope in. Any more disappointment would kill her. “How?” she asked.
“We get ourselves out of this book and I take you back to my family’s bookstore. That’s where the door to the Keep is. Brune can get us in. She’s got the Key.
And you can bet she’ll be there when we get back. If she sent you in for the Rod, she’ll be waitin’ for you to come springin’ out of the book with it.”
Fate put her hand to her neck protectively, feeling for the Rod hidden behind Finn’s ribbon. The guilt she’d pushed down all those months ago rose to the surface, holding her back from explaining the blood and the mystery around how she’d gotten the Rod from O’Deldar.
“Sithias told me about how you got that,” Gerdie said, seeing her reaction.
That burned Fate. He promised to keep her secret.
“Don’t blame him. I saw it when I was cleanin’ you up. I knew what it was. It’s got the same markings as the Orb.”
Fate relaxed somewhat, relieved she didn’t have to worry about Gerdie taking it from her. She’d had every opportunity to do so and hadn’t. “You said your family had a bookstore?”
“Yeah,” Gerdie said, the beginnings of a smile forming on her face before turning to a frown. “I only hope it’s still there. It’s been so long.”
“Did the building it’s in used to be a granary?”
“How’d you know?”
“I think we share the same family bookstore. It’s still there but it’s closed now, ever since my Gran died.”
Gerdie stood up, an anxious look on her face. “Please tell me your Gran’s name wasn’t Berdie.”
Fate frowned in confusion, puzzling over how Gerdie knew Gran’s name, and struck by the uncanny way their names rhymed. “She went by Berdie Biddle.”
Tears sparkled in Gerdie’s eyes. “Berdie married Hank Biddle? But she hated that freckle-faced carrot top after he shoved her in a puddle and ruined her Easter dress.”
“How do you know that story? Gran used to tell it a lot.”
“Because––” she said, her voice cracking and her little hands wringing together. “Berdie’s my twin sister.”
Fate was stunned. Gran had never mentioned a twin, or any siblings for that matter. But this explained the immediate kinship she’d felt with Gerdie when they first met, the instinctual need to protect. She smiled, a faint wisp of a smile. “All this time, and we never made the connection.”
Fate's Fables Special Edition: One Girl's Journey Through 8 Unfortunate Fairy Tales (Fate's Journey Book 1) Page 40