Spies Among Us

by L. L. Bower

  Crisa rises to her feet. “Let’s pack up and head out. We have miles to go before we arrive at our destination, and we’re behind schedule.”

  We stuff our empty plastic bags into our packs and swallow a few more gulps of water. I give Rampart a little more water in his dish, which he laps up. We repack our loads and attach the wolf’s pack to his back. I help Crisa hoist her pack onto her shoulders.

  “The special cloaking spell I’m going to cast now uses a minimal amount of magic and gives off no magical signature.” She pulls out her wand, mutters a few words, and we all three become invisible.

  “How will we avoid running into each other, or losing one of us in those woods?” I ask.

  “Notice that I’ve made our auras visible, but only we can see them.”

  Rampart emits a faint yellowish light, and Crisa emits her usual ivory glow. “What color is my aura?”

  “Gray.”

  Couldn’t you have chosen a more dramatic color for me?

  Crisa reads my thoughts. “It’s the color of your eyes.”

  I feel a little ashamed of myself. “Thanks.” When will I learn to rein in my ego?

  We make our way across the rocky ground and finally come upon a rise where we can look down upon the great Caliginous Woods. The forest stretches in both directions as far as I can see. No wonder we couldn’t go around it to get to the fairies. It would take days.

  The towering treetops stand at attention like ancient dark sentries. No birds circle the green peaks of these tall trees, and I don’t see how any sunlight can reach through their dense branches. I’ve never seen a thicker forest.

  As we approach the woods, I realize that something is wrong with these trees. While the tops are green and lush, the trunks and lower branches are carbon-black. I pull off one of the branches to find it’s dry and crumbles in my hand. These trees are dying from the ground up.

  Normally, trees die from the top down from pollution, wind, drought, bugs or disease. But the Caliginous Woods exhibits some type of strange root rot that’s killing the trees at their bases, while the tops remain green and alive, at least for now. From a distance, this forest looks healthy. Up close, it’s a field of desiccated, dying trunks.

  Wouldn’t these woods be a magnificent refuge, a real masterpiece as forest go, if these trees were healthy? And, if this devastation is caused by the evil that lives here, what type of creatures could exact it?

  Crisa interrupts my thoughts. “Yes, evil is very strong here. Stay close. If you’re near, I can protect you with my magic. If you’re not, you’re fair game for the wicked beings that reside in these woods.”

  “I’m sticking to you like super glue.”

  Rampart gives a little bark to indicate his agreement.

  Crisa whispers something and waves her wand over me. “I’ve re-instated our telepathic abilities, so we won’t have to talk out loud.”

  Like we’re walking on broken glass, we tiptoe toward the dense foliage ahead of us. I put my hand on Noblesse’s hilt, for two reasons, to feel if she’s vibrating and to extract her quickly. Right now, she’s quiet.

  Once we enter the woods, it’s like we’re in a different world. From a sunlit, lively environment complete with sweet smells and sounds, we now encounter a silent, sour-smelling deadness. No bird sounds, no squirrels, no insects and very little light. If I lived here, I’d be depressed day and night.

  The canopy closes over us like a shroud, creating a murky gloom that prevents me from seeing what’s beneath my feet. I have a feeling that’s a blessing because the forest floor has the same rancid smell of decay I sensed when we entered these woods.

  My boots, which make no sound, sink a little with each spongy step. I don’t see how rain could seep through the solid growth above us, so the floor should be as dry as a merman’s sense of humor. We should be crunching through dead leaves and fallen branches, but we’re not.

  I notice another peculiar thing about this flat woodland. While the floor is obviously covered with more than dirt, I don’t see anything green or growing at eye level, not a tuft of moss, a clump of pine needles, a leaf or a patch of fungus. If I could see the forest floor, I bet I wouldn’t see ants, slugs or centipedes either, although it’s certainly dark enough in here for them. This whole place is spooky, like evil has made itself tangible.

  I decide to test my weather-controlling ability, which isn’t magic but a branch of the Creator’s power. My efforts shouldn’t, therefore, attract the attention of any dark creatures.

  I concentrate and ask for a storm cloud over us, ending with, “by the power of the Creator.” Nothing appears, not even a misty wisp. In the past, I’ve needed water vapor to create a cloud, which means these woods are too desiccated for me to be able to generate any moisture.

  Next, I try heat and cold, and those seem to work. I’m able to increase the heat in the air around us, which I do for a few seconds, as well as decrease the temperature. Then I produce a breeze, which whistles through the dead trees and brushes our faces. My wind efforts aren’t very effective though, because of the dense trees.

  “I see you’re testing your abilities,” Crisa says in my head. “My magic continues to work too in these woods. Otherwise, our invisibility would dissolve.”

  As we walk, Crisa leads us to an untended and meandering trail, a trail no one has taken for ages. Her machete chops through the undergrowth to create a path for us. Occasionally, an errant shaft of sunlight pierces through the oppressive evergreen awning to offer us a little light.

  Rampart’s ears perk up, but he’s not growling. He moves his head side to side, aiming his ultrasensitive ears at the forest on both sides of us.

  “From now on,” Crisa communicates telepathically, “I’ll use my powers only for defense, like our invisibility spell, in an attempt to get through this place unnoticed. Although we’d see better, my wand’s light is magic. Even though it’d be invisible under the cloaking spell, dark creatures will sense it.”

  I’ve drawn Noblesse, and Crisa has her wand at the ready, just in case. Even though we scan the forest for signs of a dark threat, when the threat does come, it’s not visual and it certainly doesn’t seem dark.

  A melodious, canary-like song reaches my ears, mesmerizing me. It’s the most beautiful tune I’ve ever heard. Like a magnet, the sound draws me, and everything else fades away. I’m compelled to stow Noblesse.

  I turn toward the music and head off the trail to find its source. Rampart barks, and Crisa calls to me in my head, but their voices are far off and muffled. All I can think about is that lovely song.

  The desire in me to know what kind of creature could create such dynamic beauty is insatiable. The song feels alive, like a graceful dancer beckoning me to join her. The forest awakens and takes on a purplish hue.

  I walk a long way, directed by unseen hands toward that heavenly sound. And then ahead of me is the source of the sound, like a beacon of hope.

  Chapter 27 – The Girl of my Dreams

  A gorgeous woman stands above me, cradled by tree branches and surrounded by a warm, golden aura. She’s clothed by encircling vines that seem to undulate with life and emphasize the curve of her breasts and thighs. I smell something sweet like wildflowers.

  Is she trapped? Does she need my assistance? Is that why she called to me?

  Her curly black hair is heaped on top of her head, but her eyes are what draw me to her. They’re the color of a vibrant forest, a deeper green than I could have ever imagined. I could get lost in those eyes. In fact, when my eyes lock onto hers, the forest around me fades, and I’m overcome by what it would be like to be her lover.

  A faraway voice warns, “Go back to Crisa. Don’t follow that song,” but I pay no attention to it.

  I care for nothing else but to be with her. I’d do anything for her. I feel a vibration at my side, which I ignore, and keep moving forward, my eyes on this smiling woman who beckons me with her hands.

  How does she even know I’m here? Aren
’t I invisible?

  Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. She wants me as much as I want her. That’s why she’s singing to me.

  Maybe she’s not trapped. Maybe she’s an integral part of this magical place. I’ll join her and spend the rest of my life here. No more champion duties, no more dark ones, just endless bliss with her by my side.

  And then I’m falling, tumbling down, down, down into a black hole in the ground I never saw because my gaze was fixed on her. And still the song continues, more delightful than anything I’ve ever heard.

  I land with a thud on my back, the smell of dirt and dead leaves filling my nose. I’m arched over my backpack, which probably broke my fall. Finally, I tune into Noblesse’s vibrations.

  But it’s too late.

  I feel something curl around my legs and arms and pin me down. At first, I think it’s a snake, but when I reach down, a piece of it feels ropy, thick and coarse. It reminds me of the vines that were wrapped around my dream girl. I struggle to get free, but the cords or vines or whatever they are only wind tighter. Then they creep around to cover the rest of my body. When they envelop my nose and mouth, I can no longer breathe.

  My eyes and ears, however, are still exposed. The song continues to flow through my head like a soothing shower. I relax with the sound.

  As I slowly suffocate, prickly points of light signal that I’m blacking out. Then comes a flash of light, and I think, Doesn’t everybody see a light at the end of a tunnel when they die? And then it strikes me, I can’t die this way. Only silver can kill me. I can still be with my beautiful songstress.

  Despite my optimistic thoughts, the lack of oxygen is very unpleasant and frightening. I feel my consciousness slipping away, but I don’t fight it. What else can I do?

  It’s all right, I tell myself. I’ll hear that wonderful song for eternity and be with that beautiful woman, the woman of my dreams.

  And then the light appears again, and the vines recede and slither away.

  I’m not surprised. I knew she wanted to be with me. Maybe now we can spend our lives together.

  I sit up and notice her song has stopped. “No! You must keep singing. I need your song more than air.”

  But then Crisa’s rational voice in my head says, “Calen, it’s all a trick meant to capture and enslave you. You have to get out of there.”

  “Am I dreaming? Is that really you, Crisa?”

  “Yes, now get up.”

  I gradually come to my senses and realize I’m stuck in a deep hole. Where the lady of the forest is I don’t know. I struggle to stand up, but I’m weak in the knees, so I have to sit down again.

  I look up to see Crisa leaning over the edge of the pit in which I’m trapped. Rampart is there too, in human form and bare-skinned, peering over the brink. They both look impossibly far away.

  Crisa has neutralized her cloaking spell to rescue me. She holds her wand out and into the hole as a light, which means she’s no longer worried about dark ones knowing we’re here. If Crisa isn’t worried, that means the seductress, who I found irresistible and who seemed to desire me too, was a dark illusion. A heavy weight of sadness engulfs me. I think the Creator and Noblesse tried to warn me, but I paid them no mind.

  A rope descends toward me, and Crisa says to me mentally, “You’ll have to climb out on your own.”

  By the light of Crisa’s wand, I roll over to discover piles of bones beneath and around me, some of which are yellowed with age. Apparently I’m not the first to be trapped here. I inhale sharply and stand up using the sides of the hole to get my balance. I pause to catch my breath, then grasp the rope and begin the arduous climb.

  The sides of the hole are composed of crumbling dry dirt that offers no support for my feet, so I must use only the strength of my arms to escape. When I lifted buckets of rocks during my champion’s training, I was so strong I could arm wrestle Pholas and Chearon and sometimes win. Now, in my current wimpy state, my muscles shake, burn and threaten to give out. The added twenty pounds or so on my back makes the going even tougher.

  Still, I climb.

  I can see the faint light above me getting brighter, but my strength is failing. I don’t want to give up the ground I’ve worked so hard for, so I pray to the Creator. “You said whenever I am weak, you are strong. I need your strength right now.”

  I feel a hand on my backside that lifts me and takes some of the weight off my arms. The extra support is all I need to fortify my determination to escape the hole. I silently repeat, “Hand over hand” as I climb. Finally, strong hands grasp my rubbery arms and lift me out of the pit.

  I fall onto the ground, sweating and panting, my face planted in the ground-level mat. Crisa’s wand light reveals how the forest floor here is composed of dead mollusks like slugs and snails, whose bodily fluids somehow mysteriously still moisten the ground. I resist the urge to vomit and roll over.

  Now that I know about my increased longevity because of the fairy’s touch, if Crisa hadn’t found me, I would’ve been trapped in this place for hundreds of years. I shudder.

  As I lie there, fighting for breath, I mentally message Crisa. “Thank you so much for rescuing me.”

  “You’re welcome, but that was a close call.” She leans over me and gently touches my face. “That siren had you in her clutches, and she wasn’t about to let you go. I had to use very powerful magic to force her to release her hold on you, which meant removing our cloaking spell, in order to engage my full powers. You should have seen her real face when I denied her control over you. It was anything but pretty.”

  “Where is she now?” I ask, hoping to get one more glimpse of her beauty. Maybe she’ll sing to me again.

  “Calen!” Crisa shouts to my lust-soaked brain. “Snap out of it! She’s an evil witch whose only desire is to leave you in that pit to die, or in your case, go crazy. Unlike the rest of us, she doesn’t care about you, never will.”

  That’s the sternest Crisa has ever spoken to me, but it works. I realize what a lovesick patsy I’ve been, how easily I was tempted and how close I came to ending my stint as Fairyland’s champion. I also realize she just said she cares about me. My heart lightens.

  I sigh. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe how gullible I was.”

  She pats me on the shoulder, her lighted wand in her other hand. “You weren’t the first, and you certainly won’t be the last. Sirens take great pleasure in making fools of men.”

  “But why weren’t either of you affected by her song?”

  “Throughout the ages, sirens have been interested only in human males. Their song doesn’t work on females, numinals or even Rampart in wolf form. By the time he’d converted to his human form to help me pull you from the pit, I’d already stopped her singing.”

  “How could she see me if I was invisible?”

  “She didn’t see you; she smelled you. Sirens have special olfaction that detects human male hormones.”

  I look down to see how my shirt sleeves are torn in numerous places and my arms are marked by scabbed-over punctures and scratches that I never felt.

  “I thought sirens only lured men to their deaths at sea.”

  “You’re right.” She nods. “They’re most often associated with the sea. But this one was a forest siren. Instead of crashing ships of human males onto rocks, she uses her song to bury men in a pit, where she can torture them by being just out of their reach. Most men simply die of starvation. Eventually, you would have gone mad.”

  “What a delightful thought,” I mock. “What did you do to her?”

  “I made her mute, a temp spell to reserve my magical strength. The spell will last long enough for us to get out of earshot. Historically, sirens have been bound to a certain geographical area, usually as the result of a curse. And she has no power, other than the ability to attract men with her song. So let’s leave her domain quickly.”

  It feels good to be in control of my emotions again, so, as I rise, I say, “Let’s go. I don’t want to stay in this horrible
place a minute longer.”

  “I agree. And we haven’t lost too much time. The day is young enough for us to get out of here before dark. Since I’ve already used magic in this place, I might as well re-invoke our cloaking and leave my wand light on.”

  Crisa utters a few magic words under her breath, and she, Rampart, who’s back to wolf form, and I are invisible again, with only our auras showing. She commands, “Follow me.”

  I follow her ivory glow as she twists and turns around standing trees and climbs over fallen logs. The air is still stale and dead-smelling, unlike a living forest, and the stony silence is overpowering. I never thought I could hate any forest, but I hate this one.

  Trudging back to the main trail is slow going because we have to maneuver through thickly matted and blackened undergrowth. Crisa hacks away with her machete at thorn bushes to clear our way. I must have blazed a trail through this awful maze to get to the siren, but I didn’t realize what I was doing, being so enamored by her. Those thorn bushes are where my clothes were torn and my skin pierced. Despite my increased sensitivity to pain, her song made me totally oblivious to everything.

  It’s a long while before we reach the main trail again. I’m saddened by how much time we’ve lost because of my longing to follow that manipulative creature’s voice. My head is clear now, and the siren and her song are merely unpleasant memories. How could I have been so gullible?

  We move quickly now over the flat forest floor. Crisa is as anxious as I am to get out of this dark place and on to the fairy village. Rampart too has picked up the pace and bounds ahead of us, his head moving from side to side. I strain my ears but don’t hear any more sounds.

  The sunlit landscape ahead of us grows closer with each step, and we’re just a few hundred yards from the edge of the dark woods and the light beyond when I feel something gritty in my mouth and eyes. I rub my eyes, but can’t get rid of the scratchy sensations. My mouth becomes dry, and it feels like it’s full of sand.