Passages (Alternate Worlds Book 1)

by Taylor Leigh

  Alone in the forest, there was no-one to judge. He could think in the privacy of his mind without a hundred eyes watching, waiting. Without the Blaiden ready to snap his neck if he made one wrong move.

  What if he just left?

  The idea gave him pause, so much so that he actually stopped dead in his tracks. He swallowed hard.

  A whippoorwill somewhere started up its endless loop of song. A cricket chirped.

  If he left with Story, they could start their own clan. They could run far from here, follow the rivers to the North, where strange stories of white beasts and endless sun came. No-one would ever find them. They could both be together and live by their own rules. A smile pulled at Flynn’s lips. It was utterly ridiculous, stupid, childish. And tempting.

  He started walking again.

  The idea was growing in his mind like bread with yeast, pushing at the insides of his skull till it consumed him. It was an idiotic, rash idea that he could not rationalise. He would tell her tonight, tell her that he loved her—that his insides ached whenever he saw her and that being with her was the only time he was happy, the only time he felt he could be himself. She would laugh; he knew she would, but she would also listen, and that was all he could ask for.

  And if she did say yes...who cared then? They could leave that night. Leave before all hell broke loose in the forest, as it threatened. With the coming of snow also brought the coming of war, and if at all possible, Flynn wanted to be long gone before then.

  He smelled the campfire smoke and resisted the urge to go bounding through the bracken and surprise her. He’d probably end up with an arrow through his eye. No. Best to approach as the dignified leader he should be. Though the thoughts in his head were far from dignified, he might as well try to pretend.

  Flynn had about twenty metres to go before he realised something was terribly wrong. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and he dropped down silently into the tall ferns, nerves alive. Nothing moved. No true danger that he could see.

  He listened. Crickets were chirping round him. The forest was alert. It was still. Watchful, but still.

  Flynn crept forward slowly, eyes darting about him constantly. The trees above him leant in towards the campsite, as if trying to get a better look at whatever the gently flickering flames illuminated. Flynn suddenly felt ill. His heart seemed to be trying to force its way up his throat and out his mouth. His hand went to a tree and he could feel its soul stirring sleepily, disturbed.

  The crickets stopped their songs as he approached. He edged the camp, unable to see any real sign of threat. Nothing attacked.

  The trees let him know nothing. Then again, his connection with the souls of nature had become blurred lately. The forest did not respond to him as it once had. Ever since the Blaiden had shown up in his life, hunting had become harder and listening to the souls was like trying to hear underwater. Difficult and strange, like a language garbled.

  Flynn waited a solid five minutes before he finally had the courage to slink into the clearing. He moved along the ground, knuckles seeping into the bare earth, hand on his knife.

  ‘Story?’ His voice came out softly. His gaze drifted downwards towards his knee pressed into the mud. There was a print there. Too difficult to tell who’s thanks to the thick moss. Tartans? Flynn’s teeth clenched and he cast about. No Tartan could be that well concealed. They stuck out like an arrow in a hide. By the look of the print, it was half-an-hour old.

  He whirled about and saw it then. Or rather, her.

  Story was on her side, framed in the bracken. She wasn’t moving.

  Sticking out from the ferns was a long wooden shaft; the other end of it was deeply buried in her chest. Flynn flew forwards on shaking legs. He dropped down to the soggy ground and turned her over onto her back. Her grey eyes were still open, staring up at the clouding sky. Mud smeared her forehead. Her soft lips were slightly parted as if in one last gasp that he would never hear again. The firelight flickered off of her pallid skin, almost giving the illusion of the glow of life.

  Flynn was trembling uncontrollably. His hand went to her eyes and pulled the lids closed softly. He gasped a wracking, broken sound he didn’t know he was capable of and rested his forehead gently against her neck. Unravelling thoughts twisted their way through is brain and came out in words he didn’t realise he was saying.

  Flynn didn’t know how long he sat there, rocking her back and forth, trying to get control of himself. Finally he lifted his head and gazed at her face. He did his best to wipe away the mud and blood. He plucked the leaves from her hair and then very gently kissed her still lips. Flynn’s hand slid down to the firm shaft buried in her body and he studied it. Recognition dawned in him with a fiery hatred he had never felt before. He knew the name crudely scratched in the wood. The spear belonged to a Tartan certainly, one named Thedric. Flynn’s teeth ground in rage and he swore then that he would make war against them. He would join with the Blaiden and be lost in their spore driven power and he would kill. He’d kill every Tartan and make them suffer and when he found Thedric…

  But not yet. Flynn stood and looked round. First he would construct a platform for Story to rest on. He would go to her favourite spot in the forest and he would build her death platform there. He’d lay her to sleep and let the forest slowly take her. And then he’d bury himself as well, bury himself in the madness of the Blaiden, because without Story there was no point to the world at all.

  Chapter Forty-One

  ‘It’s the Druids, I tell you,’ Thedric said, pacing the floor in front of the fire.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Tollin irritably. ‘There’s no proof of that.’

  They were gathered in the library in front of the small fire. They’d done as much preparing as they could for the coming freeze. Being trapped in the keep with the coming storm and insane Blaiden outside was a looming reminder of just how helpless they really were. Impatiently, they all waited for the dawn.

  The group was tense and unable to fall asleep and so they talked and eventually, their talk had turned to Molly and the rather strange circumstances of her death. As usual, when strange circumstances arose, so did the strange theories.

  ‘There was no body.’ Andrew leant his head back against the wall, eyes fixed on the ceiling. ‘There should have been a body. I know the water and the tides better than anyone. By all accounts the body should have washed up between the beach and the marina in five hours and it never happened.’

  Thedric pointed to his younger brother. ‘And it wasn’t there!’ It was obvious that he, out of everyone, had taken Molly’s death the hardest. He was hiding it well now, but desperation for some sort of justice coursed through his entire manner.

  ‘There are other possibilities,’ Andrew said. ‘However strange or unpleasant, that we must consider.’

  ‘And those would be?’ Thedric, asked, examining his knife in the firelight.

  ‘Well,’ Andrew said thoughtfully. ‘There could have been a creature that pulled her down. There are certainly many undiscovered and unsavoury creatures in the ocean capable of that. There’s also a considerable amount of plant life that could have tied her up and concealed her.’

  Victoria sighed. ‘And that’s all without mentioning those strange dreams and headaches she’s been having, which could have affected her in some way. But I don’t believe any of that is to blame. There’s something else. Something you’re all trying to ignore.’

  Andrew shook his head once, curtly. ‘No. That was just a fluke. It’s impossible.’

  Victoria swallowed. ‘We didn’t hallucinate that light. We all saw it!’

  ‘You didn’t see anything!’ Andrew shouted.

  ‘Stop it!’ Thedric snapped. He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Just stop.’

  Tollin remained silent, eyes growing dark. Victoria realised he wasn’t going to back her up about the light. Whatever he knew, he was keeping his knowledge to himself.

  They continued to talk, going in frus
trated circles. Nerves were stretching to breaking points. At last everyone, including Tollin, seemed to run out of things to say. They sat in a silent group, uneasy and exhausted.

  Victoria slowly became aware of Thedric and Tollin staring past her with matching looks of disturbed horror. She winced, hardly wanting to turn round and see what Andrew had done. He was lowering a candle to his skin, watching his skin burn with a detached, morbid expression. Victoria, in complete revulsion, dashed the candle from his grasp, fighting down the flurry of anger and frustration as it welled up inside of her. He jumped, startled.

  ‘Stop that!’ she shrieked. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

  Andrew made a face, looking ill. ‘It doesn’t hurt.’

  ‘Of course it does!’ Her voice rose in pitch slightly.

  Andrew faced her now, anger growing. ‘I can’t feel it! I cannot feel pain!’ A flicker of panic was hidden behind his eyes. Victoria caught the slight edge to his voice. ‘I’m losing all sense of pain in my body! My nerves…’

  Thedric swore and stood. ‘You’re a sick freak, you know that?’ He marched from the room in disgust.

  Victoria took a deep, calming breath and looked back up at Andrew. His eyes were wide, begging for an answer. She had no idea what to do. ‘Okay.’ She turned to look at Tollin over her shoulder. ‘Do you have anything for burns in that coat of yours?’

  Tollin shook his head, patting himself over. ‘Not on me, no. I’ll go check the kitchen.’ He trotted out of the room, seeming grateful to leave.

  Victoria pulled his burnt arm towards her and tried to keep the anger from her voice. ‘Did this just happen?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, completely deflated.

  Victoria stroked the pale skin of his arm. ‘Can you feel that?’

  He swallowed and nodded his head. Victoria studied him for a moment. He’d started rocking gently, seemingly no longer aware of her there. She ran a hand through his blond hair and held him as he rocked.

  ‘I think it’s time we all got some sleep,’ she said aloud, though she didn’t think anyone could hear. ‘We all need it.’

  Thedric threw down a fur covered mattress in a heap, muttering. ‘This whole business is ridiculous. We should be out there, not cowering in here! If it’s a fight they want, we should take it to them, not wait!’

  Andrew, recovered and back to his old self, cast Victoria a look as he spoke to his brother. ‘The event of an attack tonight is unlikely. That rain out there is going to start freezing soon and after that the snow will start. Besides, this building is built in a very strategic spot; an effective attack on the keep is doubtful. Either way, we’re safe here. It’s a good place to wait out till morning. Safer than we’d be back at the village.’

  ‘Safe! We’re sitting ducks in here! And what about our family and friends? They’re not safe!’

  ‘Well,’ Tollin said, dragging a few furs towards the fireplace. ‘If we’re sitting ducks, might as well get comfortable.’ He flashed the group a lopsided grin and pulled out his golden spectacles to read.

  Victoria held a bundle of furs in her arms and looked out the tall windows that gave her a small view of the outside world. It really was an impressive storm growing outside. She could see the conifers tossing in the wind and the windows were being pounded by rain. The howling wind was finding ways inside of the keep. She could hear the quiet, ghostly whistling and shivered. No doubt it was only going to get colder tonight.

  She dropped down and tried to find the most comfortable lump in the pile of strange furs she had. They smelled musty, indicating they had been stored in the closet Thedric had found them in for some time. As she emerged from the furs, something soft smacked into her face and flopped to the ground before her.

  She glanced down at the feather pillow and then up at the thrower. Andrew dropped his sleepsack—Victoria didn’t know where he’d found that, it looked much more comfortable than her furs—down beside her and then sank down himself. Victoria hit him gently with the pillow he’d given her.

  ‘Thanks, I wasn’t looking forward to the floor.’

  Andrew shrugged indifferently. ‘Grabbed that pillow before I realised it was too soft for me. I can’t sleep without a firm one.’

  ‘Ah,’ Victoria said. ‘So you’d be perfectly fine with the floor.’

  Andrew smiled. ‘I’m fine sleeping anywhere.’

  ‘Of course. You never complain about your sleeping situation.’ Victoria rolled her eyes. Andrew was the most temperamental sleeper she’d ever met. ‘You’re fine with the cold, hard floor, even next to me?’

  Andrew’s lips twitched. ‘Well, you were sleeping on the most comfortable spot.’

  ‘This seems to be becoming a habit.’

  Andrew frowned in sarcastic confusion. ‘Where would I be without you?’

  She shoved him. ‘Oi! A little gratitude from you wouldn’t hurt!’

  His eyes shone. ‘Oh, as if you don’t enjoy every second of it!’

  She raised her eyes. ‘Yeah, being bossed about by you is the thrill of my life!’

  Thedric groaned from across the room. ‘Will you two keep it down over there? You’re making me nauseous!’

  ‘Ah, be quiet, brother!’ Andrew folded his arms under his head and stared up at the ceiling. ‘Just because you’re jealous because you’ve fancied her since she got here doesn’t mean you have to make the rest of us as miserable as you.’

  Thedric said something under his breath that didn’t sound very nice.

  Victoria clapped her hands over her face. ‘Do you just say everything that comes into your head, Andrew?’ she gasped.

  Andrew settled down smugly. ‘If I see it fit.’

  Victoria laughed.

  ‘Oi!’ Tollin snapped from across the room. He peered down his nose over his glasses reproachfully. ‘Trying to read here! Go to bed, kids. You might not get much sleep tonight so get as much as you can!’

  Victoria smirked. ‘Yes, sir.’

  She stole one last look at Andrew, and then closed her eyes, surprised by just how good it felt.

  Victoria awoke in the darkness, not sure what had stirred her. She sat up, shivering. The fire was low and she could feel a draught of cold air coming from somewhere. Her gaze flickered over to Andrew’s sleepsack. He wasn’t there.

  Another breath of cold air hit her and her eyes found one of the large picture windows overlooking the view to the distant lake. It was open. Her mind was just beginning to formulate horrible theories about what had happened to him when she noticed a shape leaning in the sill. It was Andrew.

  Everyone else appeared to be asleep. Thedric was snoring softly across the room. Tollin was still propped up against the edge of the fireplace, his golden glasses far down his nose, book in his lap. She couldn’t tell in the darkness if he was awake or not. With him it was impossible to guess.

  Victoria picked herself up and walked across the cold stone floor to stand next to Andrew. He smiled a tight greeting.

  ‘Do you smell that?’ he asked, breath visible in the moonlight. A tiny break in the storm clouds was letting Scrabia shine through.

  Victoria inhaled the cold air deeply, feeling it pool in her lungs. ‘What?’

  ‘Snow’s coming. The lake’s already freezing, though you can’t see it from here. Soon we’ll be able to cross it on horseback. Things will be hard moving around here.’

  ‘Snow…’ Victoria mused. ‘It happened so fast!’

  ‘That’s the deep freeze for you.’

  A distant honking of geese overhead drifted down to them.

  They were silent for a while. A few white flakes started to drift down, spiralling lazily.

  Victoria pulled her curly hair behind her ear. Being alone with him, she knew she had to broach the subject that had been tormenting her since she’d been back. About what had happened earlier. She had a feeling his answer might terrify her. ‘You kissed me. What was that about?’

  His eyes glinted. ‘I’m not sure… I wanted to pr
ove to Thedric that he didn’t have me figured out. He thinks I’m incapable of anything besides inventing and falling into helpless fits. I wanted to show him I’m just as much a man as he is…even if I don’t feel the same…emotions he gets from kissing a woman… and… I was curious to see what your reaction would be.’

  She scowled. She didn’t much care for being one of Andrew’s many experiments. ‘Was it what you thought it would be?’

  Andrew mulled over her question then looked her in the eyes. ‘You didn’t kiss me back.’

  She pulled her fingers through her hair with a huff. ‘Well, I was rather caught off-guard.’

  ‘I suppose it was an interesting experience,’ he continued thoughtfully. ‘I cannot admit to feeling any real emotion from the action. I simply copied what you did on the beach. I do not understand what people find so pleasant about it, but like pain or any other stimuli, the more intense, the more, I suppose, I feel.’ He shrugged.

  ‘Well, one thing at a time,’ Victoria muttered. ‘And that whole fake act with the tears?’

  His face worked over, he almost seemed sheepish. ‘Would you have preferred if I’d said nothing and kept my emotions to myself?’

  She hesitantly thought about it. ‘Would that have been genuine?’

  He sighed heavily. ‘Yes.’

  Victoria nodded her head curtly, fighting to keep her emotions in check. ‘Then yes, I would have preferred that.’ Then she added bitterly, ‘It would have been less embarrassing on my part.’

  Andrew cast his eyes downwards, long lashes catching snowflakes. ‘Well then, I apologise. I do not often think of others before I act.’

  Victoria laughed humourlessly. ‘Well, now I’ve heard everything…What were your emotions when I came back?’

  He glanced at her sideways. ‘What do you think? Relief, of course.’

  Victoria was surprised at her sigh of relief.

  Andrew’s expression grew more wicked. ‘Where would I be without my walking Scrabian encyclopaedia?’