by CM Raymond
“Ouch,” Gregory said, his face as white as a sheet.
“You OK?” Hadley asked.
“It’s nothing. But holy hell that was close.”
“We can’t have the keeper of that little box go overboard on us,” Hadley said with a wink.
Reaching for his bag, Gregory said, “You take it.”
Laughing, Hadley told him there wasn’t a chance in Irth, present or past, that he would take on that kind of responsibility. “We all have a burden to bear. This one, on this journey, is yours. It might just keep you alive—the knowledge that you could kill us all.”
He pulled the brown bag back and adjusted the slack out of the strap. Nodding, he grunted, “Honestly, I set a failsafe—a timer on the ship. After three days Unlawful will come down on her own, just in case.” He glanced back at the edge and ahead at the path, which was now hardly wide enough to accommodate Karl’s girth. “I’ll be more careful.”
Hadley laughed. “You’ve never been any higher than the Academy Tower, have ya, kid?”
Gregory hated it when Hadley called him ‘kid,’ even if he felt younger than the rest of them most of the time. No matter how many badass gadgets he made, he still felt inferior to the magicians and the warriors.
Against his will, he pushed out his chest. “To the top of Hannah’s tower. That’s gotta be taller.”
Hadley laughed. “That’s kind of like having a dick-measuring contest with your identical twin, don’t you think?”
“Don’t know. I was an only child,” Gregory admitted.
“No. What I mean is, you’re splitting hairs. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.” He shook his head and motioned toward the path. “You could walk this with no problem if it were a rocky path in the middle of the valley. The problem isn’t down there. It’s up here.” Hadley tapped a finger on his temple.
Gregory’s face twisted in confusion.
Hadley continued. “You damned Arcadians have no control over your minds. It’s half your problem. You struggle with this just like you did with magic and social skills and Laurel…”
“Just to let you know, I’m doing just fine with...with...that last one.”
Hadley’s eyes snapped white and then back to normal. “Uh, huh. Just like I thought. You’re a bumbling mess with the girl.” He patted Gregory on the shoulder. “My point is just this: if you were confident, like you are when you’re flying that big bird in the sky or building magitech, you could walk this ledge with your eyes closed.” He glanced over the edge. “OK, maybe not with them closed, but you get the drift.”
Gregory exhaled and took another step, his legs shaking this time. He froze, staring into the abyss. “I can’t just make myself unafraid,” he said, looking over his shoulder at Hadley.
“You can’t,” Hadley’s eyes turned milky white, “but I can.”
A wave of warmth settled on the top of his head and then drifted down toward his neck. He certainly felt something—maybe lighter—but the edge of the cliff still scared the hell out of him. “I don’t think it’s working.”
“I didn’t say it wouldn’t be scary. I mean, that fall will kill you deader than dead. But just walk.”
Exhaling once more, Gregory put one careful foot in front of the other, and then he did it again. Within five paces he was walking at a decent clip. It was nothing like Aysa and Karl, who had already eased around the bend in the path ahead, but it was something. Laughing like a fool, he glanced over his shoulder at Hadley. “This is freakin’ awesome.”
“Ah! You’re getting a little taste of the mystic life, my friend. Master the mind, and the body can do amazing things. Now pay attention. I made you confident, not immortal.”
Gregory kept walking and enjoyed his new-found freedom until he got to a spot where the ledge disappeared completely at a small outcropping of rock. He peeked around the corner to see a small foothold in the wall and another ledge four feet away.
“Ah, shit. It’s back.”
Hadley laughed. “Well, I didn’t want to make you a damned remnant or a fool. It’s smart to be nervous here, but you’ve done this already. You can do it. I know you can do it.”
Nodding, Gregory stretched his leg to the foothold. The toe of his boot sank into the hole deeper than he had imagined it would. Not bad, he thought, his heart slowing again. He brought his right foot over and put it in the same hole, hands gripping a sturdy rock at eye level. Finally he stepped off onto solid ground, Hadley making the move right behind him.
“Good work,” Hadley said.
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Gregory responded. “You and your magic.”
Laughing, the mystic said, “I stopped playing with your head twenty yards ago. That one was all you.”
Gregory turned pale and continued down the path, wondering if his friend was telling the truth or if this was just another mental trick to build his confidence. He scrambled ahead as the ledge widened again and caught up with Karl and Aysa, who had crouched behind a boulder.
Pointing downward, Karl said, “We’re almost there. But it’s a damned sight, right?”
Gregory’s eyes followed the path that lay before them, skipping over a small dip where it fell out of sight. The small houses didn’t look out of the ordinary in any way, and he couldn’t help but wonder what in the world the crazy old rearick was talking about.
“You uncomfortable with the fact that these folks are proper human beings, Karl?” Hadley asked. “Remember, not everybody finds it necessary to burrow into caves like your people do.”
“Easy for ye ta say. Ye mindnuts inherited a bloody castle on a ridge. We did what any mug with half a brain in their bucket would—find shelter.”
But these folks, despite the fact they lived on a mountain full of caves and caverns suitable for habitation, had built their rickety homes in the open. The houses obviously took one hell of a beating from wind, snow, and sleet. Karl didn’t trust anyone who chose the harder path for no good reason.
“Not ta mention the warmth ya find only a few feet back. I don’t get it. Something just ain’t right.” He pointed along the wall at the dotted face of the massive rocks. “Dem’s all caves. It’d be easy.”
Aysa shrugged and made her voice low and raspy. “Maybe something worse than snow lives in there.”
“Maybe,” Hadley said, “but we’re here for the crystals, and if the Oracle is right we’re going to find a shit-ton of them in those rocks, monsters or no.” He pointed at the houses. “But we’re not getting any closer to our goal sitting out here. Maybe someone in the village can point us in the right direction.”
He stood, and the others followed his lead. Remembering Hannah’s words on the airship, Hadley turned to Gregory. “What do you think?”
A chill ran across Gregory’s spine. Both scared to make the call and happy that the mystic was deferring to his leadership, he nodded. “Sounds right, but let’s not rush in. Can’t see a soul ahead. Keep your eyes open.”
Karl snorted. “The mystic’s mindfuck wearing off, kid? Back ta shittin’ yer britches?”
“Nothing wrong with being careful,” Aysa said. She turned to lead the way, and just as she looked back to volley an insult at Karl, shouts filled the air and the all-too familiar clash of metal on metal followed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Just half a mug,” Hannah said to Parker as he poured from the wineskin. It had been a gift from the chieftain of the Baseeki people, part of a ‘thank you’ for saving his son Samet. Parker had left it in his gear during their stopover at New Romanov, and now he was happy he had.
“Need to stay sharp,” he responded. “Smart. But I weigh more than you do.” He filled his nearly to the brim, tapping the skin against the edge of his mug to get every last drop.
Hannah laughed. “I’ve seen you at Sully’s Tavern one too many times. You might look like a tall drink of water, but you have the tolerance of a first-year at the Academy.”
They all laughed at this and se
ttled around the crackling fire, watching sparks dance toward the starry sky above. It was hard for them to believe that just hours earlier they had been in a rainstorm that had seemed endless.
“Even with its many oddities, camping out in the woods makes me miss home,” Laurel sighed, watching the flames.
Parker leaned back on his elbows. His body was sore and worn from pushing through miles of the jungle undergrowth but his mind was still racing, stimulated by spending time in this new place. “Tell us something about growing up in the forest,” he said, looking at Laurel.
“Dunno. Pretty much like any other kid, really.”
Hannah snorted. Sal was snoring like a cow with his head in her lap. “Yeah, I’d say. You grew up in a reclusive community of weird nature lovers who can talk to animals and control plants. Boring!”
Laurel laughed. “I’m just saying. Compared to the Boulevard, the Dark Forest was a walk in the park.” She paused for a second, taking a sip of her drink. “OK, there was this one time…”
“Oh, do tell,” Hannah urged.
“Well, one thing that is different about the forest than Arcadia is that we all learn magic, like it or not, from our youngest days. I know it sounds weird to the people who grew up in the Boulevard under Adrien’s restrictions, but we were kids. And if you tell any kid they have to do anything, forget about it. It becomes an unbearable chore.”
“I know that,” Parker said.
“Compared to yours, our lives were easy. We had everything we ever needed or wanted, really. A bunch of spoiled brats, if I might say so myself. Seeing as we couldn’t get into trouble for using magic—and pickpocketing other druids never crossed our minds—I and my friends had to invent ways to make trouble.” She paused, looking into the fire and gathering her thoughts. “I didn’t get along with many of the other kids in the forest, but I had two dear friends. Arryn and Cathillian were best friends, and they fought like siblings.”
“Sounds familiar.” Hannah sighed.
“Don’t. Don’t ever refer to me as a sibling,” Parker cautioned.
Hannah rolled onto her side and placed a kiss on his cheek. “I was talking about Laurel and Gregory.” She glanced back at the druid. “Keep going.”
“Well, they were close, and for some reason they took me in as well. I guess it was because Arryn didn’t really fit in either.
“Wait, I got this,” Parker barked across the fire. “Arryn was a remnant living among the druids.”
Laurel laughed. “Worse! An Arcadian.”
“Oh!” he yelled again, the ale loosening his inhibitions. “That’s cold.”
“An Arcadian?” Hannah asked.
“Yeah. We took her into the Dark Forest when her parents were murdered. It’s now clear that Adrien was behind it, but back then all we knew was that Elysia, the daughter of the Chieftain, owed Arryn’s mother for some reason. The debt was paid with Arryn’s life. She was, for all intents and purposes, taken in as one of our own…as an Arcadian druid. But the kids didn’t see it the same as the adults did. She was pushed out by her peers, except by Cathillian, and then, eventually, by me.”
Hannah couldn’t help but smile. Despite her newfound importance, the memories of being cast out—by society and by her father—wouldn’t soon leave her. No matter how powerful she became, she wouldn’t ever forget her beginnings.
Laurel continued, “Anyway, our first year in natural magic school—”
“Hold on,” Hannah interrupted. “You had schools?”
“Not like yours. I mean, by the time we were fourteen the kids who were all the same age were tutored by several teachers. The oddest of the bunch was Flora, an old woman who was more ancient than the Madness and had lines in her face deeper than the valleys in the Heights. She was a firecracker, and insisted on teaching us about every damn scrap of greenery in the Dark Forest. Not just in the clearing we used for a classroom, but out in the woods. We were to touch them, feel them, and smell them.”
“To become familiar!” Hannah said.
“Exactly! But one day old Flora told us to never, ever eat anything in the forest we couldn’t positively recognize.” Laurel glanced over her shoulders, as if she were worried someone was listening in. “To make her point clear, she took us to a spot in the woods I had never been to before. I hung back with Arryn and Cathillian, making jokes and screwing around, until we stopped at a giant patch of mushrooms growing in the deep shade.”
Laurel stopped and laughed, and her face grew softer than Hannah had ever seen it. The druid had a fuller past than Hannah could imagine.
Laurel continued, “She pulled up several mushrooms, four or five I guess. She laid them out and asked the group of students which ones we could eat and which we shouldn’t. Hell, we didn’t know a mushroom from the ass of a sparrow. All of us just looked at each other and shrugged. Finally old Flora pulled one out, and held it out to us. ‘This one, girls and boys, should never be eaten. It will make you see things—things of dreams and nightmares.’ All the other kids gaped at the forbidden shroom. I looked at Arryn and gave her a wink.”
“You didn’t…” Parker cried. “I grew up in the city, and even I know that’s a terrible idea.”
“Well, Cathillian tried to stop us, but the feisty Arcadian druid and I couldn’t help ourselves! Later that night, when the moon was on the rise and all the elders were asleep, we crept out to that patch and looked for the perfectly dreamy mushrooms.” Laurel paused again, looking up at the stars again through their small clearing.
“What the hell happened?” Parker asked, sitting up and leaning in.
“Well, we found the mushroom that Flora warned us never to eat, the forbidden fruit of the forest floor, and I passed it to Arryn. She looked at that thing like it was a roast fresh off the spit. Cathillian warned her not to do it.”
“He is definitely not a fun guy,” Hannah said with a smile.
“I see what you did there,” Parker quipped. “He was a real toadstool.”
“Mine was better.”
“You’re both lame.” Laurel laughed. “But we ignored Cathillian and started to nibble on the slimy thing, each taking bigger and bigger bites. The trees surrounding us started to warp and twist as if they were melting wax. They turned all the colors of the rainbow. It was crazy.”
“No shit!” Hannah said.
“Well, according to Flora they grow in shit, but other than that there is no shit in this story.” She grinned and looked back at the fire. “Things went crazy at that point. I just sat there, trees bending all around me, until she stepped into the twisted scene.”
“Who?” Parker asked, nearly falling all over himself in the story.
“Why, who else?” Laurel said. “The Queen Bitch herself. Bethany Anne.”
“No!”
“Tight leather pants. Black hair cropped at her shoulders. Two guns hanging at her sides. Her eyes glowed red, like Hannah and Ezekiel’s. It was her—at least the way she has been talked about in the stories they told amongst the trees in my youth.”
“What the hell did she say?” Parker’s eyes cut from Laurel to Hannah and back.
“Simple. She said I was only in the forest for a time, to learn and to train. That there was something more important for me on this earth than dicking around in the woods. She said I was going to help save Irth.”
“So what did you do?” Parker asked.
“First I threw up, long and hard. After that, I passed out and slept for hours under the limbs of a massive oak tree. When I woke up, I stared into the eyes of Cathillian and Arryn. They had freaked the hell out. I could only smile. Laughter overtook me. I just said one thing.”
“What was it?”
“I’m meant for something more.” Laurel’s face was serious, lacking any sort of expression. “That was when I knew I had to take the Versuch, the test to leave the forest. I didn’t know when, but I did know that I needed to leave. To find what I was made for, what the Matriarch was calling me to.”
“And after that, you found us,” Hannah said, her lips curling into a subtle smile on the edges.
“That’s right. All because of a simple, beautiful mushroom growing in the shade. So if you ever think the plants can’t talk to us, think again.”
With her story finished, they all settled back on their bedrolls. Hannah told the others, “Sleep. I’ll take first watch.”
Before she could even finish her sentence, Parker was out. Laurel looked at her. “Wake me when you need me. And don’t eat anything you find out there.”
****
The gentle sounds of Parker’s and Laurel’s snoring blended with the incessant chirping of the jungle critters all around Hannah. Although they were over a thousand miles from home in a strange and dangerous land, she felt a certain contentment that she couldn’t put her finger on.
She watched as Parker’s chest rose with his breathing in the light of the fire, and—for possibly the first time ever—she felt blessed. Maybe the Matriarch existed after all. Fortune from the gods was the only way she could explain her life. How she had risen out of such misery into a place where she felt altogether at peace, even with the threat of demon monsters at hand.
The sounds and the dancing light of the fire mixed with this sense of contentment, and Hannah did something she had never done in all her time with the Triple-Bs. She nodded off on her watch.
It wasn’t a full-on sleep, but the moment one finds between waking and sleeping. Her heavy eyelids were content to rest. Just for a minute, she told them. It will be fine for only a minute.
It was the kind of sleep that was easily disturbed, and that disturbance came with the snap of a twig next to her head.
Eyes flashing open, Hannah was, for a moment, sure that she had crossed into dream sleep, or that Laurel had laced her drink with some funky mushroom she had found on the jungle floor.
No more than an arm’s length away was a face. To call it a man’s wouldn’t be quite right, but it wasn’t an animal’s either. The thing was almost like a lycanthrope, but as its glowing yellow eyes held hers she knew it was fully sentient.