by Kaylee Rymer
She stroked Belle’s soft coat. “Not long now, Belle.”
An ominous chill spread through the forest as Ivora had the awful sensation she was being watched.
She turned to a nearby tree and gasped. A black hawk perched upon a branch, its silver eye looking straight through her.
The bird cocked its head, and Ivora swore its beak opened with a smirk.
Belle rounded on the hawk, and the two creatures stared each other out. The hawk’s black head moved from the horse to Ivora, and its silver eye narrowed. Next, it released a powerful squawk and took off in flight.
Ivora and Belle watched the bird as it disappeared into the sky.
“Let’s go before that bird comes back,” Ivora said.
The mare took off, and Ivora had never been more relieved to put some distance between herself and a bird.
A MOUNTAIN RANGE APPEARED along the horizon, a jagged row of rocks stretching towards the sky. After several days of trekking through wild country, sleeping rough, and sore, chafing thighs, Ivora was glad she finally made it.
Her father’s compass guided her all the way. It was as if he were beside her, making sure she arrived at her destination.
The landscape turned rough and craggy when she neared the mountains. She stared in awe. They were like slumbering giants. Any moment she expected them to pull up from the turf and stretch their rocky limbs.
Ivora reached the first mountain. An empty valley lay beyond.
This was it: the moment she would leave the kingdom of Liona and enter free country. Horror stories Ivora had heard as a child rushed to the fore. All manner of beast roamed these rocky lands, but somewhere in there lay The Blanket and her aunt Elly.
Ivora gulped and entered the gorge.
A DAY HAD PASSED AND still no sign of The Blanket. Ivora had looked at her map over and over, but there were no landmarks.
The mountains were devoid of life and people. So why would her parents send her here? Finding her aunt Elly, a woman she’d never met, was near impossible.
What would her aunt even be like? Would she be like Mother? Dark, curly-haired, and a lover of all things magic?
Mother had truly believed the charms would bring her protection, but they never did in the end. The men still came.
Ivora put the night out of mind and focused ahead. She had to find water.
She jumped down from Belle’s back and touched the ground. No moisture, only dry pine needles. Well, she could always let the local wildlife lead the way. She looked up at the sky. Completely bird free.
So she skimmed the forest floor for animal tracks. No sign of an animal to be found whatsoever. It seemed the mountains were as barren as her heart.
Ivora searched her bag. She was down to her last apple. Her stomach ached, and there were little fruit-bearing trees.
Should she hold on to it?
The sun began to set. It was best to call it a day.
Ivora pulled Belle along and set up camp by the base of a tree. She started a fire by rubbing a branch against a pile of leaves, just like Father taught her. After a few tries, a flame emerged, and she bathed all night in its warm glow.
IVORA WOKE WITH A START. Something hit her head.
She looked up towards the tree. A bushy red tail hung over a branch. The culprit turned, and a squirrel’s face appeared. Ivora beamed. It was the first creature she’d seen for days.
Her joy was short-lived as the rodent dropped another cone onto her head and vanished up the tree.
Ivora tossed the chewed-up cone and looked into her bag before remembering she only had one apple left.
She could set traps; Father used to take her out hunting in the woods around Chars-town when she was younger, but Ivora never found it in her to kill an innocent animal. She had actually gotten good at shooting a crossbow, but her mind was set. From that point onwards, Ivora had sworn off meat. That had been five years ago.
How long would she last until her stomach craved meat again? Sooner or later it may have to come to that.
She rose to her feet and climbed Belle’s back. Belle showed no signs of fatigue or hunger. It was as if she was being sustained by magic.
Once again, they rode through the valley in search of water. The forest seemed to go on forever. Pine tree after endless pine tree.
A gap in the canopy revealed a great blue mountain peak, and Ivora gazed in wonder. Breath-taking. It dwarfed all the other mountains she’d seen. It even reached the clouds as vapour spread around it like a halo.
A flock of geese flew out from behind the mountain, and Ivora’s heart soared. It could only mean one thing.
“Let’s go, Belle. There may finally be water for us.” She gripped a hold of Belle’s mane and galloped towards the mountain.
The great blue peak grew ever closer. Ivora yearned for a gulp of fresh mountain stream water, and she was sure Belle felt the same too.
Her heart beat faster as the colossal structure was almost within reach. Belle charged forward, so strong and beautiful. Where would Ivora be if it weren’t for the mare?
No other horse could have got her away from the cottage so fast.
A shadow emerged from the trees and knocked Ivora off her horse. When she opened her eyes again, her heart jumped to her throat.
A black wolf hovered inches above her, smiling down with its razor-sharp teeth. Its breath warmed her cheeks, but she couldn’t look away from its silver eyes.
She’d seen eyes like that before... on the head of the black hawk.
Belle sprang forth and kicked the wolf off Ivora. It went flying against a tree and hit the ground with a yelp.
The wolf shook itself off and snapped at the horse. Belle stood her ground, stamping a hoof.
“Go, mistress. I’ll hold her off.”
There was that beautiful woman’s voice again. Except it wasn’t a woman, but a horse.
Ivora stared at the mare. “Belle?”
Belle’s ear swivelled around. “Go, my mistress.”
Ivora’s heart sank. Not again. She couldn’t leave another loved one behind. “B-but...”
“Go! Don’t let your parents’ sacrifice be in vain!”
“Belle... I... can’t lose you—”
The wolf lunged forward and clamped its jaws around Belle’s neck. The mare shrieked, rearing up on her back legs to shake the wolf free.
Ivora grabbed a log and tried to beat the wolf off her horse, but a blinding white light lit up the forest. Ivora fell to her knees and covered her face.
Somewhere to her left, the wolf writhed and whimpered, but Ivora wouldn’t dare look.
The wolf soon stopped, and she looked up. The wolf had gone, but Belle remained, a flickering silhouette.
The horse collapsed and Ivora crawled to her side to check her wound. Her stomach squirmed at the blood. The wolf had bitten right into the flesh, exposing the muscle beneath.
“Go on without me, my mistress. I’ll only slow you down.”
Ivora stroked Belle’s mane, shaking. “N-nonsense. We... we need to get you to the stream, that’s all. C-come along...”
She managed to get Belle up to her feet, but the horse only made it a few strides until her legs gave away, and she crumpled to the floor again.
“No!” Ivora nudged her awake. The mare’s body rose up and down, fighting to keep the breath in her lungs.
Ivora gasped for air. “B-Belle... g-get up...”
Belle barely stirred as the colour faded from her fur.
Ivora closed her eyes, seeing a silver foal lying on a bed of straw. Her father’s voice echoed through the memory, “Belle is a magical horse, descended from the purest, rarest horse of all.”
Belle truly had been magical. The way her coat shone perfect silver and the grace with which she galloped. No horse could compare.
The horse’s eyes closed over, and the silver vanished from her body. “I’m sorry, my mistress...”
She slipped away.
Heavy gasps escaped Ivora’s
lungs. Belle was gone, and it was all her fault. If only they’d found The Blanket sooner. If only Ivora had jumped in front of the wolf and saved Belle instead.
She put her head against Belle’s silky mane and cried.
A stick snapped to her right, and Ivora shot up. She met a pair of startled yellow eyes, and her mind and heart raced.
The horns... and the green skin...
The smell of blood and death became too much, and blackness filled her vision.
7. Weegel
The pot simmered and spat, sending clouds of vapour across the small, shadowy cave. Yet Weegel stirred regardless, gazing at nothing with vacant eyes.
A girl lay on his bed in the next room, unconscious. Just a low arch in the cave kept them apart.
His heart wouldn’t stop flapping.
How did it happen? One moment he was standing over her lifeless form, and the next he was heaving her up over his shoulder.
The image of her crying over the body of her dead horse played through his mind again, and he shook it away. The creature had a large wound on its right side, obviously left by something sinister.
Could it have anything to do with that strange bright light he’d seen?
Steam billowed up from the pot and he jumped back, wiping the moisture off his face. The maggots inside had long stopped squirming. What a shame; they tasted better when they wriggled.
While the life slipped away from the last moving grub, a peculiar thought occurred to him. The girl was the first visitor he’d ever had in the mountain.
Weegel straightened. The room had grown suddenly hot.
What does he do? How does he behave? Should he make tea? A dusty old china set sat around somewhere.
A groan came from the next room. Weegel froze and turned his head towards the arch. A shadow stretched across the wall on the other side.
She was awake.
Her shrill gasp broke the painful silence. For a moment everything remained completely still, and it was more than Weegel could take.
The shadow rose off the bed and started towards the room.
Weegel’s skin broke out in sweat. He skimmed his eyes around, noticing the dirt and grime for the first time. Cobwebs draped across the ceiling, and he gripped his hair.
What was he going to do? The girl would be inside the kitchen any moment, seeing all the mess.
Her footsteps neared, and his heart beat faster.
Weegel tried to smooth down his hair, but it would always stick back up again. His clothes were ragged and torn, and his fingernails were dirtied and splintered.
Just as he went to check his breath, the girl stopped outside the archway.
He yanked his cloak off the table, threw up the hood, and tied the scarf around his face. Then with shaking fingers, he pulled on his gloves to hide his claws and stood up straight.
Now she wouldn’t be able to see his ugliness.
The girl stepped into the room, and her heavy breaths echoed off the walls.
He could almost feel her big green eyes boring into his spine.
She did nothing else but stare, and he was dying to turn around and look at her face, but he was too afraid.
Her breaths continued to echo through the small space. She really was a loud breather.
His stomach tightened. She was the first person besides himself to draw breath in his kitchen, and it was like they shared air.
Weegel inhaled deeply. “Please... take a seat.”
No movement.
He turned his head slightly and examined her from the corner of his eye.
She remained still.
“I said, take a seat.”
“No.”
Weegel faced her fully. Their eyes met, and she raised her chin. Something glinted under her nightdress, and his heart skipped.
The Westwind necklace. How could he have forgotten? In all the chaos and confusion of finding her alone in the forest, it had completely escaped his mind. Funny, as he had once risked his life just to have it in his possession.
Now it seemed to be the only thing he could see.
The girl followed his gaze and lifted her collar over her necklace.
Weegel composed his thoughts and directed a hand towards the table. “Take a seat. I won’t bite.”
She narrowed her eyes. Weegel heated up under her glare. Was it something he said?
“Show me the way out,” she said, her voice flat.
Weegel watched her dumbfounded. “Well... don’t you at least want a bowl?” He pointed to the pot. “I’m making stew. It would be terribly rude of me if I didn’t offer you food.”
The girl looked at the pot, and her stomach growled. She sighed. “All right. One bowl, and then you show me the way out.”
Weegel poured a generous amount of stew into a bowl, hoping she wouldn’t mind that the maggots stopped wiggling too, and placed it at the table.
She took her seat and stared at the bowl in silence. “What kind of beans are those?”
Weegel looked up, surprised. “Beans? I’m afraid you’re...”
He was too late. She had already taken a mouthful of maggots, and he stared in dread. Could humans even digest maggots?
She groaned in satisfaction. “This is actually delicious.”
Weegel scoffed. “Don’t sound too surprised.”
She didn’t seem to hear him as she took another mouthful, and another, and licked the whole bowl.
He watched, impressed. “My, you must have been hungry.”
She nodded, wiping the slop from her lips. “Can I have more?”
Weegel was grateful for the scarf at that moment, for it hid his tiny smile. “Sure.”
He went about preparing another bowl, and she devoured that too. After her third bowl, she finally sat back and closed her eyes.
Weegel inched towards the table, expecting her to recoil, but she merely stayed put. He grabbed the spare chair and took his seat, and they sat in silence.
He drummed his fingers. “I... hope you don’t mind my asking, but... what are you doing all the way up here? Why are you this far from Chars-town?”
Her eyes shot open, and she jumped up from the chair. “I wish to leave now.”
Weegel cast his eyes over her trembling form. She avoided his gaze, and he knew then she was hiding something.
What exactly?
“People only come north when they’re running away from someone. Who are you running from?”
She looked him straight in the eye, her face the colour of beetroot. “None of your business!”
Weegel tapped his chin, sneering beneath the scarf. “Let me guess... are you running from those parents of yours? I bet Daddy never told you how he ran me down in the end, hey?”
The wound in Weegel’s back leg still throbbed. It took a lot of screaming and powerful magic to remove the arrow, but he would always have the scar.
The girl leaned over the table, her green eyes shining ominously. “Don’t you talk about my father...”
Weegel raised a brow. Was she seriously trying to intimidate him? He moved his eyes to her clothes next. Her boots had certainly seen better days, and her nightdress was torn. The girl must have left in the dead of night.
She stepped away at last and faced the wall. “Thank you for your hospitality, but I must leave. I have somewhere very important to go.”
Weegel leaned forward, balancing his chin on his hands. “Ooh, tell me?”
She snorted. “Like I’d tell you.”
Weegel snickered. “You don’t have to. I’ve seen your map. I know you’re finding The Blanket.”
The memory of the giant circle on her map came to mind. She had large ground to cover before she even dreamed of finding any signs of The Blanket.
She faced him again, eyes wide and incredulous. “You went through my stuff?”
He shrugged. “Had to know who I was bringing home to my cave. You could be up to anything out here.”
She chortled. “I should be the one who’s wary of you.
Look at you!”
Weegel shot up. The girl was some feet smaller than him, but he didn’t care. Let her be afraid.
He pulled down the hood and let the scarf fall to the floor. “What about me?” he said, his voice low and dangerous.
Her skin paled, and she gulped. “N-nothing...”
Weegel glared at her a few seconds longer. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she never took her terrified eyes off him.
He sat down again and propped his feet up on the table. Then he took out his knife and tossed it in the air. “You won’t get far looking for The Blanket. The town hasn’t been seen in years. It’s as elusive as your Chars-town. Perhaps even more so. Outsiders can’t find it.”
“And why should I take your word for it?” she said.
Weegel shrugged. “Then don’t. But if you don’t want to end up like your horse, I wouldn’t bother. You’ll starve to death before you find The Blanket.”
“Well, that’s a risk I’m willing to take.” She moved towards the door.
Weegel laughed. “Well, that makes one less idiot in the world to worry about.”
The girl paused halfway across the room. “Well, what else do you suggest I do? Going back home isn’t an option for me.”
He smirked. “So you are running away from your parents?”
She lowered her head. A sheen covered her eyes.
Weegel glanced at the chain around her neck, and the butterflies rose in his stomach. A wicked idea came to him then. “I’ll make you a deal. Hand me the necklace, and I’ll let you stay in my mountain. You’ll get hot meals, a place to sleep, and brand new clothes.”
He hoped she’d take up the last offer; her flimsy nightdress was looking worse for wear.
She grabbed onto her necklace for dear life. “So that’s what this has all been about? You were trying to get your hands on my necklace again?!”
Weegel held his hands up. “You got me. Look, I don’t care what you do. In the end, you’re not my problem, but if you want sanctuary, you give me the necklace. A pretty fair deal if you ask me.”
She stepped back. “You’re kidding yourself if you think I’d say yes.”
He rolled his eyes. “Suit yourself. Though I should warn you that whatever took out your horse will probably still be out there.”