by Lea Doué
“I should have asked for yours. I can’t see how far the banks have come up. I usually avoid the falls after a hard rain.”
Any horse could have gotten them there in half a minute at a fast walk, but she and Eddy plodded slowly as they maneuvered around water-slick stones and exposed roots, bumping shoulders and knocking each other off balance repeatedly before righting themselves. She stopped near the edge of the falls and peered over.
“What do you see?”
The waterfall wasn’t high, maybe twenty feet, but she’d never seen one shaped like this. The stream dropped over two edges of a squared-off cliff, almost like an L carved into the rock face. Rather than form a lake or pond at the base, the water splashed and flowed over a rocky stream bed clogged with branches and debris. A wild gardenia bush huddled near her feet, the rain heightening its scent, reminding her of her sisters. But mixed in with it was the disappointing smell of grass and soil and rain, grounding her to the reality that they weren’t there.
She wiped water from her eyes. “I don’t see any sign of people.” She wouldn’t be able to see anything soon. “Hazel! Bay!”
They both yelled into the torrent, but if there was a response, they couldn’t hear it.
Eddy spoke into her ear. “We need to take shelter. The cave is to the side of the falls at the bottom, high enough to stay dry.”
With eleven sisters, she was well used to taking charge. She slid her hand into his and led the way, slipping and sliding down the muddy hill. Once they reached the bottom, the cave was easy to spot. She pulled Eddy behind her up a small incline and poked her head inside the cave mouth.
“It’s empty.” She sighed. “If Hazel or Bay found it, they’ve already moved on.”
He grunted.
She led him inside, grateful they didn’t have to duck. It was as dry as he’d said it would be. Unexpected so near a waterfall. Pebbles and stones crunched beneath her boots. The space was roughly triangular in shape, like a huge slice of cake had been cut from the rock. Five of her sisters could have squeezed in behind them without anyone getting wet.
She and Eddy sat down side-by-side with their backs to the wall, shoulders touching, hair dripping.
The rain grew harder, falling so heavily it looked like they were behind the waterfall itself.
She curled in on herself, wrapping her arms around her knees. Could Hazel survive out there? Finding water would be no problem, but would she remember their sister Mara’s game of finding edible plants in the woods? Was she scared? Alone? Gwen shivered.
“Cold?”
“A little.”
He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.
She stiffened, but he was only trying to keep her warm, so she relaxed and leaned against his arm.
“There are other caves out there, and ruins that would offer some shelter. We won’t stop looking until we find someone.”
“Or we’re rescued.”
“Or that.”
They lapsed into silence again. She had just let her head droop onto his shoulder when a crunching, scraping sound grated through the air. They both scrambled to their feet. Had some animal decided to seek shelter, as well?
A man entered, blocking out a portion of the rippling light. Black, rain-soaked hair fell into his eyes and curled at his neck. He wore a sword and a dagger at his side, as well as an ornamental bottle, its copper surface encrusted with cut glass and gemstone chips in shades of orange and brown. It looked out of place.
Gwen gasped and rubbed her eyes. “Tharius?” Her head buzzed, and she took a step farther into the cave. The sorcerer who should be locked in a tower in the palace in Eltekon stood in front of them. Somehow, he had escaped. Had he followed her, or was this a chance meeting?
Eddy pulled out his knife and took a few steps forward, placing himself between her and the drenched sorcerer.
She touched his shoulder and whispered, “Don’t. Please. He’s dangerous.”
But Tharius wasn’t crazy. Maybe she could talk to him. She took a breath to speak, but Tharius beat her to it.
“Ah, princess.” An eyebrow quirked upward suggestively. “Am I interrupting something?”
Eddy took another step forward. “What do you want?”
“Just a dry place to escape the rain. I’m sure you won’t mind some company.” He paused and then added, “What happened to your eyes?”
Eddy’s jaw tensed.
“A sorcerer named Ris injured them,” Gwen replied. That’s all he needed to know.
“You need to move along,” Eddy said with a growl.
Tharius paused, his eyes glinting in challenge. “Care to make me?”
Eddy rushed at him.
Tharius moved aside smoothly and slammed Eddy against the wall, one arm at his throat and the other pinning Eddy’s hand above his head, the knife still firmly in his grip.
“No! Tharius, let him go! Please.” Her heart thundered, and she put a hand out uselessly. “We have no quarrel with you.”
Tharius glanced at her. “Tell your champion to put away his knife and sit quietly like a good little boy.” His deep, melodic voice held an undertone of anger. “All I want is some rest before I move on.”
“He’ll put it away. Right, Eddy?”
Eddy’s jaw clenched.
“Please?” She cringed at her own pleading tone, but she couldn’t risk any more entanglements with sorcery.
He nodded curtly, and Tharius released him.
She grabbed Eddy’s hand and pulled him to her side. He should know better than to confront a man such as Tharius.
Tharius didn’t even look at them. He sat against the stone wall, head bowed, forearms resting on his knees. Worn and spent, and as safe as a coiled snake.
She sat with Eddy along the opposite wall, keeping his hand firmly in her own. She couldn’t risk losing him and end up out here alone. If he tried to attack again, anything could happen.
She watched Tharius, alert for any movement. Scratches crisscrossed his hands and face, the sorcerer’s tattoo clearly visible on his sunburned cheek. His plain black clothes were ragged and torn. He carried no satchel or pack for food, and it was unlikely the bottle held water. The gemstones and glass embedded in the copper winked with red and orange lights, like reflected firelight. It was more than just a decorative piece, and she wanted it—as much as Tharius himself—gone.
He must have escaped just after she and Hazel left the city. She bit her tongue, literally, to keep from asking for details, but she gave up after about ten minutes of staring at the flickering bottle. Or maybe it was five.
“How did you get out?”
He grinned slowly and glanced at the bottle. “You should be used to a little mystery by now where I’m concerned. No?”
“At least tell me why you’re here. What do you want?”
His eyes narrowed. “Revenge.”
Eddy stiffened, and she squeezed his hand.
“I could have stayed.” Tharius leaned his head against the cold stone wall. “I could have caused all kinds of mischief.”
“Lily—”
“I both love and hate your sister.” A hard look passed over his face, both painful and dangerous. “I will not rejoice that she is with another, but I will do her no harm. I seek the sorcerer.”
“Idris,” she said.
“Mmm.” He stared at Eddy as if waiting for something.
What did Eddy know of Idris? Unless…
“Ris.” Eddy sat up straight. “You think they’re the same person?”
“I know they are.” Tharius’s voice hardened. “I recognized his handiwork in the fortress. He seems to have a hobby of trapping people.”
“You’re trapped now, too, you know,” Eddy said.
Tharius shook his head slowly. “I’m not trapped here. I will never be trapped again. Once this rain lets up, I’ll be on my way, and you can go about your lives as if you’d never seen me.”
What did he mean he wasn’t trapped? She leaned fo
rward, eyes widening. If he knew a way out, he had to tell them. He owed them that much after all he’d done. He might even know where Hazel and the others were.
“Surely you can help us get out of here.”
Eddy huffed quietly. She nudged him with her elbow—it never hurt to ask.
Tharius ran his hands through his hair and then laced his fingers behind his neck, elbows nearly touching in front of his chin. He blew out a breath. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“But—”
He held up a hand and then propped his arms on his knees once again. “If you got out of here, you’d have your father and half the dragon guard after me, and I have work to do. I’ve no doubt you’ll find the key to your freedom on your own.”
“We don’t need help from another sorcerer, anyway,” Eddy said.
One of Tharius’s eyebrows twitched. “I understand your bitterness. He is the cause of your blindness as well as your imprisonment.”
Eddy pulled his hand out of Gwen’s and crossed his arms. His jaw clenched, but he refused to respond.
She spoke for him, outlining the story of the love potion and the stone dragons guarding the fortress. Perhaps if Tharius heard the whole story, he might change his mind about helping them.
Tharius looked thoughtful as she spoke. When she finished, he glanced at Eddy and then settled his gaze on her. “He’s an idiot, Gwen. Don’t fall for him.”
Eddy stood quickly, scattering pebbles in his haste. His face reddened. Tharius followed more slowly.
“What are you talking about?” She pulled herself up using Eddy’s arm and then held on. Someone had to keep him sane.
Tharius shrugged. “Only an idiot would keep his blindfold on with a woman like you around.” Before either of them could respond, he looked down his nose at Eddy and added, “Who did the wild girl fall for? You?”
Gwen lifted her chin defiantly. “So what if she did?”
“No,” said Eddy.
Tharius tilted his head, brows raised with sudden interest. “No?”
“The first person she saw was her reflection.”
The rumble of the waterfall filled the silence of the cave for a full minute while a variety of emotions played over Tharius’s face. Confusion. Surprise. Amusement. And then he laughed. No, he roared. The sound bounced off the walls, and she tightened her grip on Eddy’s arm. Had Tharius gone mad? Now might be a good time to duck out. The rain had quieted to a drizzle.
He stopped as suddenly as he’d begun and dried his eyes on his sleeves. “Well, that explains a few things.” He sighed heavily. “There’s no cure for potions, you know. No out clause.”
“We know that already.” Eddy spoke through gritted teeth. “We don’t need—”
“May I have your satchel?” Tharius interrupted.
“Pardon?” she said.
The muscles in Eddy’s arm tightened, and his fist clenched. She slid her hand down and tried to lace her fingers with his, but he brushed her off.
“Your satchel, Princess Gwen. I’m leaving now, and I assume it has food in it. I’ll have more need of it than you, I think.”
“It’s not mine to give.” She removed the satchel from her shoulder and gave it to Eddy. He took it and tossed it at Tharius’s feet.
Tharius retrieved it with a grin, bowed, and turned to leave.
“If you find him,” Eddy said in a tight voice, “make sure he’s brought to justice.”
“Oh, I intend to, my good man. Nothing would bring me more pleasure.”
Chapter Eight
She and Eddy left the cave not long after Tharius. She was no tracker, but his boot prints clearly led in a different direction than theirs, which meant they wouldn’t run into him on the way back. When she told Eddy, he mumbled, “good luck to him.”
He led the way to the fortress. Although she tried to draw him out, he continued to mutter one-word answers or grunt in response to her conversation. She considered bringing up Lily, aware that Tharius had mentioned her engagement, but decided to leave the matter alone for now. Just like with his mother, Eddy never mentioned Lily, and she didn’t want to aggravate old wounds. She finally gave up and concentrated on placing her feet in the least sloppy parts of the vague path they followed, a different one than they’d taken on the way to the falls. He’d clearly felt as helpless as she had in Tharius’s presence. More so, even, but she wouldn’t be able to convince him that there was nothing he could have done even without a blindfold. He’d have to work through that on his own.
They found nothing. The next two days of searching yielded the same results, although, thankfully, there was no more sign of Tharius. He’d kept his word and moved on.
Because of nocturnal predators, they left off searching in the evenings, so she convinced Eddy to join her in the study while she played the harp or read from the books on the mantle. He listened and seemed as grateful for her company as she was for his, and as they talked, she learned of the heartache he’d suffered during his solitude. She was happy to be the one to help end it.
Sissi may have felt otherwise.
On the second night after meeting Tharius, Eddy smelled smoke just as they turned onto the hallway that led to the study.
“What could be burning in this place?” she said.
He stopped. “Tell me what you see.”
The study door stood ajar. “Not much.”
She laced her fingers with his, and they advanced cautiously. Once at the door, she put her hand flat on the wood. Cool. She inched it open, and they both flinched back from the heat of a roaring fire, thankfully contained within the fireplace.
“Everything looks all right, but someone’s built the fire up too high.”
He sniffed the air. “There’s something besides wood in there. I can’t place what it is.”
She let go of his hand and approached the fireplace from an angle, intending to grab a book or two—it was too hot to settle in there for the evening. When she reached the mantle, she flinched back again, but not from the heat. All the books were gone. She glanced around. The harp was missing, too.
A sinking feeling hit her stomach. “Eddy, I think she’s burned the books and the harp.” She edged as close as she dared. No evidence remained, but it was the only explanation. Her one pleasure in this place, and Sissi had destroyed it. “Why would she do that?”
He shook his head. “My guess? She doesn’t like being crossed.”
“What have I ever done to her? Besides being here. If she could show me the way out, I’d be gone in a heartbeat.”
“You took her boots.”
“No, I took my boots.”
“That’s not how she’d see it.”
“Are you saying this is my fault?” She stomped about the room, looking for spy holes among the stones. How else would Sissi have known what to burn?
He rubbed his forehead. “Of course not. She makes her own choices. I’m just glad she didn’t do anything else.”
This was bad enough. Was the girl so disturbed that she couldn’t bear for anyone else to be happy, even for a moment? Or was this simply a matter of revenge? Because it felt personal.
“I’m going to bed early,” she said. “You can stay here if you like.”
He followed her out.
She slept fitfully. Sometime during the night she woke and pulled the mattress close to the door, taking comfort in knowing Eddy was on the other side. She hadn’t told him about the mouse. It was such a small thing, but he had warned her. With a shiver, she curled into a ball under the blankets, glad to have the locked door between her and strange girl.
*
On the third day after meeting Tharius—the sixth since she’d been there—the weather forced them to stay indoors. She paced the halls, tired of exploring and tired of talking. She needed to find Hazel. She needed to know what had happened to the others. She needed Buttercup and a quick ride out of this place. How had Eddy lasted four whole years? She felt a small stirring of sympathy for Tharius. He�
�d been trapped even longer and every bit as unjustly.
She and Eddy sat in his room picking at their supper. She grabbed the book she’d found on his bed the first night and flipped through the pages.
“Are you going to read?”
“Not tonight.” She sighed and tossed the book onto the chest. A wooden rat rolled off and tumbled across the floor. There were more animals—thirty-two in all, rows and rows of them to fend off the enemy. Lanky greyhounds and squat butterwing dragons lined up against the wall where she’d arranged and rearranged them after Eddy had left the room the night before. But there was no chess board. She sat up, her supper forgotten.
“You must have a chess board.”
Eddy swallowed a bite of food. “It’s more a cloth than a board.”
“Play chess with me,” she suggested eagerly. “It’ll be something different.”
“But, I can’t—”
“Please, Eddy?” She twisted her fingers together. “I need a distraction, something to keep my mind off things.”
His brow furrowed. He crumbled a roll and pushed the bits around on his plate. He wasn’t going to say yes.
She took his hands in hers. “You can call out your moves, and I’ll move the pieces for you.”
He paused, an unreadable expression on his face. Finally, he squeezed her hands. “Let’s try it.”
“Thank you!” She hugged him quickly and then stacked the plates by the door while he rummaged through the chest for the cloth board.
“Here it is, I think.” He shook out a scrap of burlap with a crumbling black-and-green checkered pattern painted on.
“That’s it.” She gathered the wooden animals while he smoothed out the creases. Squirrel pawns for green, butterwings for black. Greyhounds and beagles, turtles and lizards, and other forest animals faced off on the uneven terrain. The rats’ noses were a bit long, but he really was quite a good carver.
“There,” she said, arranging the last piece, “I think that’s it.”
“Ladies first.” He settled cross-legged on the opposite side of the board.
“All right. Um… C2 to C4. That’s a butterwing.”
He leaned his elbows on his knees and placed his fingertips against his temples as if visualizing the game in his mind. “How about I move C7 to C5?”