Chapter 32
IT SEEMED A LIFETIME since Fate had gone from one fable to the next and she’d forgotten how intensely immersive the stories were. She felt Mugloth’s hatred pressing in on her––a palpable force from which the very fabric of the air seemed made.
At last, the horrid images of the oak splintered into a furious swarm of letters that seemed to resist returning to the book’s aged pages. The weighty feeling persisted even after the story’s release. The thrust into Innith Tine was violent, knocking Fate off her feet.
Finding herself flat on her back, she opened her eyes to a blue sky of wispy clouds and a blur of gray gulls wheeling overhead. Sucking salt air into her jarred lungs, she turned her head, looking for the others. Sithias and Gerdie were nowhere to be seen but Finn was next to her on his knees, his head low.
Worrying about what had happened to them, she sat up in alarm, nauseated by the sudden motion. Had they been left behind in Beldereth? She started to get up but her stomach roiled and pitched. Forced to stay still, she waited a moment for her strength to return and the queasiness to subside. She glanced at Finn. His body was rigid, every muscle corded with tension. He seemed unable to move. At first she thought he was suffering from ill effects of the transition, but then she realized it was something else. Guessing he must be reacting to the bombardment of Mugloth’s hatred during the reading, she hoped he wasn’t about to become the vicious stranger again.
If he was, she needed to be ready. Her hand moved to the daggers strapped around her thigh. She wasn’t about to let the horrors of last time play out again.
Finn lifted his head, his face ashen and contorted with agony. “I can feel him.”
Relieved to see he was still with her, she scrambled over and put her hands on his shoulders. His tensed muscles shook with restraint beneath her touch. “What do you want me to do?”
Clenching his jaw, he drove his fist into the sand. “Get away from me before I give into him. I don’t want you anywhere near me when I do."
“No, we fight this together.”
The muscles in his arms and back bunched with tension. He lifted his head slowly––his irises black and the whites of his eyes bloodshot. The savage darkness he’d been holding back for so long was brewing right beneath the surface, ready to burst free. Frightened, she let go. “Look,” he said, his voice a low growl as he pointed beyond her shoulder.
Fate turned, her jaw dropping as she took in the barren landscape, ugly with nothing but stumps and scraggly bushes. As her gaze followed the rising terrain to the hilltop in the distance, she saw the gigantic oak tree, bare of leaf and as black as if it had been burned to charcoal. Its immense sprawling branches tangled upwards and seemed to grapple with the very sky. Icy fear spread through her as the awful reality set in. They hadn’t arrived at the beginning of the fable when they could’ve dealt with Mugloth before he’d gone over to the dark side. The Book of Fables had dumped them at the very end.
“Now do you understand?” Finn said, interrupting her thoughts. “He’s everywhere. His roots are all over the island, alive and crawling beneath us right now. There’s no fighting that. And if you try, you’ll just get yourself killed. I couldn’t live with that.”
The fear and pain in his eyes only heightened her fear. He was giving up and she knew if he surrendered now, there’d be no getting him back. She had to do something to snap him out of it, and there was only one thing she could think of. As much as it killed her to do it, she had to bring out the fight in him.
Jumping to her feet, she kicked him hard in the chest. He flew backward and landed on his back. Before he could recover from the shock of her attack, she lunged and pinned him down with her full weight, grateful for the residual supernatural speed and strength left in her.
His shock wore off, replaced by instantaneous rage. He flipped her over his head and sprang to his feet. She rolled and rose to a kneeling position, a dagger gripped in each hand.
“What’s this? You’ve already given up on me? This is how it’s going to be? Kill, or be killed?” he said, his voice a growl and his face a dark mask.
Adrenaline surged through her. Had she pushed him over the edge? She couldn’t tell. Clenching a fistful of sand, she allowed him to draw close before throwing it in his face. The wind blasted sand in his eyes and he staggered back. She took the opening and rammed into him with the point of her shoulder, throwing him to the ground, this time with the tip of one blade pressed at his throat and the other positioned over his heart.
“You won’t do it,” he seethed.
She pierced his skin. A drop of blood beaded against the blade. “Give me a reason not to.”
He glared up at her. “Just do it. We’ll both be better off,” he said, the pain evident in his voice.
Why was he being so defeatist? It made her want to scream. Lucky for him she no longer had the power to break bones with a war cry. She pulled the razor-sharp blade across his neck––a shallow cut, always safer than a deep lance––and stopped at the jugular. A line of bright red blood sprang from the wound. “You can either die by giving up, or you can die fighting. But if it’s me you want to battle, I promise, you’ll bite the big one here and now.”
“I’m always ready for a good brawl,” he said through gritted teeth.
Unsure of his meaning, she twisted the blade, at the same time hating herself for hurting him. “With who?”
He began shaking with laughter, his lips stretched in a grimace. “Not you, fireball. I’d rather face a hundred Mugloths than your wrath any day.”
Fate kept the blade in place, searching for any sign of deception on his part. But his eyes were growing a bright green as he stared at her in astonishment. She barely had her blades sheathed when he wrapped his arms around her and rolled her over.
“You never cease to amaze me,” he said, his voice husky. “You slashed straight through the gloom and pulled me out. How did you know to do that?”
“I didn’t, but I wasn’t going to just stand by and let you cave. I figured getting you angry was better than allowing the fear to take over.”
His expression turned serious. “You’re right. I needed a good slap.” He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “It’s strange. Seeing you this strong––it’s like you’ve handed me a shield. I can still feel Mugloth trying to get at me but I don’t feel nearly as vulnerable as before.”
She dabbed his cut with the end of her sleeve. “Nearly is good, but still worrisome in that will-my-werewolf-boyfriend-bite-me sort of way.”
He winced as she wiped his cut clean. “Trust me, I can handle it from here.”
Sithias stumbled into them, winded and out of breath.
Relieved to see he’d arrived inside the fable safely, Fate almost hugged him. But annoyance and renewed concern for Gerdie stopped her. “Where did you go? And where’s Gerdie?” She glanced past him, happy to see her trotting toward them at a slow and steady pace. “I’ve got enough to worry about, without wondering where you two are!”
“I’m sssorry misss, but when we firssst arrived, you and Finn were taking ssso long to recover from the trip, we decided to explore the beach a little. And it’sss a good thing we did. Which isss what I need to tell you. We have to hide the Book of Fablesss––now. Before thossse fishermen round the point and sssee it.”
“Where? I don’t see anyone,” she said, looking further down the long beach, where it curved out over the water into a thin spur.
“Trusst me, they’ll be along shortly. They had jussst docked with a poor whale in tow when they caught sssight of Gerdie and me. They called out to usss but we sssort of ran away,” he said, his gaze turning to the cut on Finn’s neck. “What happened to you?”
Finn gave him a pained smile. “Fate happened.”
Sithias shot her an anxious look.
“It’s not what you’re thinking,” she said, knowing he was afraid she’d become unglued, as he so often put it. She glanced around for a place to conceal the Book of Fab
les. “Geez, there’s no trees or bushes big enough to hide this thing.” She shook her head. “They’ve really ruined the place.”
Finn nodded sadly. “The island’s little more than an open wound.”
“You could make it invisssible again,” Sithias suggested, seeing that the fishermen had rounded the point.
“No, somebody might come along and bump into it,” she said. “I say we bury it here in the sand.” Removing her notepad from the pocket of her cloak, she quickly wrote up a description of the book being buried. As soon as she read it aloud, the giant book descended, the ground rising where it burrowed beneath the surface, while an invisible wind smoothed over the sand like it was never there.
Gerdie joined them just as the last of the book disappeared beneath the sand. “Good timin’. I don’t think we want any of those men catchin’ sight of the book. They’re a rough lookin’ bunch.”
They all turned toward the fishermen.
Carrying bloodied harpoons, the men walked up the beach to meet them. “Ahoy there!” one of them called out, his Celtic accent thick. There were five of them––each more weather-beaten than the next with rough, calloused hands and stiff manes of sea-sprayed hair.
Sithias waved back. “Ahoy!”
Ignoring him, the men eyeballed Fate with an uncomfortable amount of interest. Finn angled himself in front of her but she stepped around him, staring straight back at them until all but one dropped their gaze.
“And what brings ya to our little island, darlin’?” said the man who’d remained undaunted by her cold stare. His dark wavy hair framed the swarthy remains of once handsome features. She could tell he was used to getting what he wanted from women.
She narrowed her eyes on him, thinking fast for an answer. “We’re interested in buying some oak. We heard this was the place to get it.”
The man grinned, revealing a mouthful of tobacco-stained teeth. She swallowed back her revulsion as his eyes roved from her untamed curls tangling in the wind, down past her chin to places that made her flush with indignation. “Well, ye came to the right place fer that. But really, what brought ya here? I don’t see any ships.”
Finn slipped his arm around her waist, his grip tight and possessive. “Our ship’s anchored on the other side of the island, mate.”
The man reluctantly pulled his gaze from her and looked at Finn. “Are there any more of ya?” he asked, his tone skeptical. “Back on this ship of yers?”
Finn’s eyes shifted to darker shades of green and the muscles in his jaw twitched. “The usual captain and crew. And they’ll be waiting for us as long as we need them to.”
Sithias stepped forward, inserting a smile into the conversation. “Isss there an inn here on the island with sssome roomsss for rent?”
The man’s gaze shifted dully to Sithias, flicking to Gerdie with even less interest, and back to Fate with an excited glint. “Just follow the shore. It’ll lead to the village––and the inn.”
“Thank you,” Sithias said, with a wave goodbye.
When they were well away, Gerdie let out a relieved sigh. “Well, they sure seemed like slippery sorts.”
Sithias glanced back to ensure the fishermen were returning to their catch of the day. “Yesss. I didn’t like the look in their eyesss.”
Finn’s grip on her waist relaxed somewhat. “We’ve got to be careful. They’re all dodgy here, right down to the nippers. Remember, they’re only out to save themselves.”
Sithias wrinkled his nose. “What isss that sssmell?”
They had arrived in the village, which clung like salt-encrusted barnacles to the craggy rocks jutting along the shoreline. Choppy waves crashed against black boulders, spraying sea-foam over a gray, lichen-covered boardwalk. A large group of women were gutting fish and tossing the refuse over the pier. Their glazed expressions were weathered by the elements, but the dullness in their eyes sharpened with keen interest the moment they spied the island’s new visitors.
“Fish,” Gerdie muttered with a sour look on her face.
Sithias waved a hand in front his nose. “Yesss indeed.”
They walked farther along the rotting boardwalk, the wood creaking and sagging underfoot like it might give way at any moment. It was plain to see that the village reflected the same rough, worn-out exterior as its inhabitants. Before they reached the main collection of buildings, which looked more like crooked shacks leaning together, a group of disheveled children swarmed around them. Small grimy hands fawned at their clothes as they begged for money. Sithias tossed a coin far from the boardwalk to lure them away. They descended on the lone coin, shoving, hitting and biting each other like wild dogs fighting over a scrap of meat.
Fate watched, troubled by the disturbing scene. Then she realized one of them hadn’t joined the fray. A small red-haired girl stood off to one side, staring at Fate with a sly smile on her face. Something in the look the child gave her put a knot in her stomach.
They moved on, finding the inn at the other end of the village. Their pace slowed when they saw the sign swinging sorrowfully in the breeze. It was faded, paint-chipped and half dangling from one hook of a rusty, wrought iron post.
“Someone’s got a lot of nerve calling thisss the Royal Oak Inn,” Sithias muttered. He glanced down the length of the weathered building. Most of the structure stretched out over the water, held up by a wobbly-looking pier. “I don’t think we should ssstay here. If the wind picksss up, we may find ourselvesss waking up in the sssea.”
Gerdie screwed up her face. “The ever-present stink of fish bothers me more than anythin’ else. It makes the old pigsty smell like a rose garden.”
“Yeah, not exactly five stars, is it?” Fate said. “Decrepit probably isn’t a sufficient enough word for what awaits us inside. I know it’s a far cry from what we were used to in Beldereth, but let’s try and make the best of it for the moment, shall we? We don’t want to attract any undo attention. Not while we’re trying to figure out exactly how we’re going to turn this fable around for the better.”
“I sssee no happy ending for thessse horrible people,” Sithias said in a hushed tone. “They make my ssscales ssstand on end. Ever sssince we got here, I’ve felt like we’re being watched and lissstened to. Even when there’sss no one in sssight.”
“I think you mean the hair on your arms, but yeah, I know what you mean,” Fate agreed. “There’s a definite Children of the Corn vibe going on here.” She’d had similar sensations––that prickly feeling on the back of her neck like she was being spied on. And a warning bell going off in her head to watch what she said because every word was being measured and judged. She wondered if it was Mugloth’s presence they were sensing. Finn had said his roots were everywhere. If they were only becoming aware of it now, how must he be feeling? She glanced at him, unable to hide her concern. He’d been quiet all the way to the inn.
Finn caught her worried look and leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Don’t fret, love. It was a little dicey for me on the way here, but I’m better now that my feet are off the island and on the pier. The roots mustn’t have broken through the rocks.”
“Good,” she said with relief and pushed the door open, its creaking hinges announcing their presence.
Lard oil lamps filled the dim interior with a choking haze. It was times like these when Fate really missed electricity and such things as modern health code enforcement. Her thoughts touched briefly on enjoying some twenty-first-century conveniences and entertainment with Finn after all this was behind them. For once she was finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel––a bright new path opening up in front of her. Unable to keep from smiling, she led the way past some empty tables to the back of the room. A plump man with a meager sprinkling of wispy gray hair stood drying some glass mugs behind an oak bar, its surface scratched and well-worn by its many patrons, who she guessed would be swigging back a pint or two by sunset.
“What can I do fer ya?” he asked, his loose jowls quivering as he spoke. It
seemed like he should be surprised to see visitors, but he wasn’t.
Fate started to speak but Sithias cut in.
“Allow me to handle this,” he said, setting down his tote bag. Lifting his chin, he looked down his nose at the man as he removed his leather gloves. “We’re looking for a couple of roomsss,” he told him. “One for the ladiesss and one for usss gentlemen.”
The innkeeper leaned forward, scrutinizing their appearance from head to toe, no doubt evaluating their worth. “Have ya got any gold pieces to rub together?”
Sithias slapped two gold coins down on the nicked surface of the bar. “Will these do?”
Fate leaned in and whispered, “Where’s all this money coming from?”
Puffing out his chest, he whispered back, “Jussst a little sssomething from my adoring fansss in Asssgar. There were more beansss and pebblesss in the mix after Moria’sss illusion faded, but a few were actually gold.”
The innkeeper bit down on each coin and grinned smugly. “These’ll do nicely––for a few days anyway. It’ll take two more if yer lookin’ to stay twice that long.” Tossing his tattered washrag over a shoulder, he ambled out from behind the bar and led them down a long narrow hallway. Out of breath by the time they arrived at the end, he opened two facing doors. Each filthy room housed a lumpy bed with a shabby throw, a dilapidated nightstand and a soot-stained oil lamp.
He pushed open the door between the two rooms and trudged in. “The tub’s in there, with a stove and wood to heat the bath. And all the water you’ll need is beneath yer feet,” he said, opening a hatch in the floor to reveal waves crashing against the inn’s rotting pylons below.
Appalled, Sithias stared down the hatch. “Sssea water? You expect usss to bathe in sssea water?”
The innkeeper shrugged. “Beats swimmin’ in it. There’s much less sand and seaweed gettin’ stuck in those hard-to-reach places when ya bring it up into the tub,” he said with a chuckle. Leaving Sithias with his face pinched up, he shuffled back up the hallway and vanished into the tavern’s smoky shadows.
Fate's Fables Boxed Set (Fables 1 - 8): One Girl's Journey Through 8 Unfortunate Fairy Tales Page 36