Into the Nightfell Wood

by Kristin Bailey

  “Good plan,” Osmund agreed. “You’re lucky you’re still a boy. If you were any heavier, that trap would have collapsed.”

  They skirted around the edge of the leaves, testing the give of the ground to make sure they actually had dirt beneath their feet. They walked ahead a little ways before they saw a huge open pit farther up the path. Elric hurried forward, fighting the urge to call out Wynn’s name, but he couldn’t without the stalking reaper hearing him. What if she had wandered onto one of these terrible traps?

  Elric reached the edge of the pit, out of breath. The pieces of the lattice that had covered the top of the pit hung down into it like broken sections of a rotting roof. Elric bent his knees and leaned his weight back before looking into the pit.

  He let out the breath he was holding when he saw that the pit was empty. Well, it was not exactly empty. The pit was deep, at least twenty feet, and at the bottom, large sharpened pikes had been sunk into the ground so they would hold fast when some unfortunate creature fell into them. Now that he saw what was at the bottom of the trap, he felt a little sick. He was glad he didn’t know what waited below him earlier.

  Osmund came up beside him and let out a low whistle. “Whatever fell in here, it looks like it climbed out.” He pointed to claw marks fiercely raking one side of the pit by a dangling portion of the lattice.

  “Lucky for it.” Elric backed away. He didn’t want to remain near these traps any longer than necessary. They didn’t know what other surprises the inventive elves laid in this area.

  He heard a leaf crunch behind him. The hair stood up on the back of his neck and his ears tingled.

  “Osmund?” A creeping sensation followed a chill running up and down his arms. “We should get out of here. Now.”

  A low rumble of thunder sounded somewhere on the horizon, but the sound didn’t fade. Instead it melded into the distinct growl of the reaper.

  “Where is it coming from?” Osmund said as he turned his back to Elric’s. They readied their weapons and protected their backs, just as Master Elk had taught. Only then did Elric realize Osmund likely had the same lessons when he lived in the Between.

  The reaper howled, and the sound seemed to come from everywhere at once. Elric gripped the hilt of his sword and focused on his breathing. Elk had faced this creature and nearly died. Elric wasn’t a soldier. He was only a shepherd.

  As the storm continued to rumble in the distance, only his darkest and most defeating thoughts surfaced in his mind. There was no way Wynn could be alive. He had failed to protect her. He had failed as her brother. He was entirely alone in the world now, and there was no one left who loved him.

  This was a trick. As sure as fairy magic, this had to be a trick.

  “Whatever you’re thinking,” Osmund said, “I know you will protect my back. I’ll do the same for you.”

  Keeping his thoughts centered on Osmund helped. It gave him a clear goal and a focus.

  “Right,” Elric responded. The uneasy feeling was bearable enough to push aside as he braced for battle. “We fight for Wynn.”

  “For Wynn,” Osmund echoed.

  The reaper charged through the brush like a bull ox. Its fiery eye blazed in the dim light as glistening saliva dripped from its yellow fangs. The red eye that Elk had injured in the earlier battle was now swollen shut and crusted over. Its shaggy black hair clumped together with dried blood from the wound at its side. Yet, even wounded and half blind, the reaper moved with power. It didn’t care if it suffered or not. It had one goal: to bring its prey to its master. The reaper opened its wide jaws and snarled at them.

  It leaped at them. It was too big for them to stand and fight it.

  “Jump!” Elric shouted, and he threw himself forward. Osmund ran in the opposite direction. The reaper charged between them, then spun around and stalked toward Elric.

  The monster kept its head low as it paced forward, its constant growl rumbling in its long throat. Elric took a step back as the beast pressed closer. And another.

  “Elric, the pit!” Osmund called.

  Elric took one more step back, and his heel momentarily slipped on the loose dirt at the edge of the open trap. Heart racing, he steadied himself and charged forward with a feral yell. The shout strengthened his courage. Elric swung the sword down across the reaper’s shoulder as hard as he could. Black blood poured out of the fresh wound and soaked the crusted-over gash that Elk had given the beast.

  The reaper swung its arm out and knocked Elric into the brush. It hit the ground hard as the creature shook like a wet dog, its foul blood spraying into the air. Osmund powerfully swung his ax, and buried the weapon into the hip of the beast.

  It let out a scream that felt like knives piercing through Elric’s ears. His heart went cold and he let out a cry of pain as he tried to cover his head to protect against the noise. Osmund tried to pull out his ax, but it was stuck. The reaper grabbed the smaller man, sinking its claws into him. Osmund shouted in pain.

  The monster bit down on Osmund’s shoulder. Osmund cried out in agony. The reaper held him in his jaws and shook him, then flung Osmund toward the pit. He disappeared over the side.

  “No!” Elric screamed. He scrambled toward the pit but the reaper grabbed his leg. He felt the claws sinking into his flesh like white-hot knives pulled from a forge. With all his strength, he shoved his sword up, and pierced the beast’s chest. He felt his blade hit bone, and the beast screamed again. It pulled away from him, cradling its new wound.

  “You will not find her, and you won’t take me,” Elric said as he fought his shaking knees to stand. He held his sword loose at his side.

  “But I did find her. My master has her now. And soon he will have you.”

  The words sounded within his own mind as the creature gave him the same snarled grin as when they had faced each other through the shield.

  “The plan has worked perfectly.”

  “You lie.” Elric shook his head, as if he could shake the beast’s terrible voice from his consciousness. “Your reaper friend is dead, and soon you will be too.”

  And with those words he dropped his sword.

  With his heart in his throat, he ran. He only had one shot at this. He’d outsmarted the beast once. He had to do it again. Elric gritted his teeth and ran faster even though his leg was on fire. He could hear the snorting breaths of the beast as it howled and limped behind him. He could smell the foul breath of the beast rolling over him, but it did not catch him.

  Only a little bit farther. He prayed the ropes would hold.

  Turning the slight bend in the path, he saw the patch of leaves ahead of him. Elric ran as fast as he could toward them. His foot met the lattice of branches hidden by the leaves. He coiled his body as he felt the branches sag under his weight, and when they sprang back he launched himself toward the braided rope.

  He felt the reaper’s claws rake his hip as he stretched forward to grasp the rope. His fingers wrapped around it, and he clung on with all his might. He swung forward over the elf trap.

  There was a shattering crash, and the reaper screamed in fury.

  Elric clung to the rope, swinging on the vine as he watched the reaper fall into the pit below and land on the pikes.

  The terrifying scream fell silent for good.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Elric

  THE BELL TOLLED, A LOW and mournful sound that resonated through the woods as Elric swung on the rope above the pit. Carefully he climbed down, using his momentum to reach the edge. He caught a branch of a nearby tree to steady himself as he landed, but almost fell backward as the pain in his wounded leg shot through him. With his stomach fluttering somewhere up near his throat, he pulled himself clear of the pit. He resisted the urge to look back over his shoulder at the grisly scene below. He wanted reassurance that the monster was really dead.

  But there was no time for that. He had to get to Osmund.

  Deep in his heart, he prayed Osmund hadn’t met the same fate as the reaper. As he
ran along the path, he picked up his sword and scrambled forward, toward the second pit where Osmund had fallen. “Osmund!” he called. He felt his whole body alive with terror as he neared the pit. “Please be alive,” he whispered.

  “Help me!” Osmund shouted, his voice breaking. Elric felt as if a fire had been lit directly beneath his feet.

  He reached the pit, and his knees collapsed from under him. Gathering himself, he looked over the edge. Osmund hung by one hand from a piece of broken lattice over the deadly pikes.

  “Hurry!” he shouted. “I can’t hold on much longer!”

  “I’ll get you out.” Elric grabbed the edge of the lattice and pulled. His arms felt weak. His whole body was shaking, but his efforts paid off as he dragged Osmund out of the trap. The edge of the lattice came out of the trap and Elric laid it down, then ran to Osmund. He grabbed Osmund’s hand and hoisted him up out of the pit.

  Osmund let out a pained cry. He grimaced as dark red stains soaked into his shirt from where the reaper bit him. “The reaper, what happened?” he asked, his forehead wrinkling in pain.

  “Dead.” Elric took off his own tunic and cut it into strips on the sharp edge of his blade. “I lured it into the other trap.”

  Osmund smiled, then winced. “Clever.”

  Elric used one of the strips of his tunic to tie off a wound at Osmund’s shoulder and one to bandage his own wounded thigh. While his wounds seemed superficial, he couldn’t say the same for Osmund’s shoulder. The puncture wounds from the beast’s long teeth seeped through his bandage. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine now.”

  Osmund shook his head. “The reaper’s fangs are poisonous. I can feel it like fire in my veins.”

  “What?” Elric felt the world spinning. No. This couldn’t be. He couldn’t lose Osmund. “No, you’ll be fine. I’ll get you back to the fairies. They can heal you.”

  Osmund placed his hand over Elric’s. “Find your sister. Return to the queen. Keep the shield strong. It is the only hope.”

  “You can’t die!” Elric shouted. Osmund was valiant and generous. He had saved both Wynn’s and Elric’s lives.

  “I’m mortal,” he said. “I assure you, I can die. The fairies aren’t good at healing mortal wounds. They never have been. That’s why they protect us so fiercely. It’s why they would never risk us.” He laughed, then coughed, and held his chest tighter. “Too bad I was never very good at living in a cage.”

  “You will not die,” Elric swore. He’d find a way to get Osmund to safety. The queen would be able to do something.

  “Don’t make a promise that could crush you when you can’t keep it.” Osmund let his head fall back and closed his eyes. “Find your sister. She’s a sweet girl. I like her, and I hardly like anyone. She needs you now.”

  Elric held Osmund, unsure of what to do. Wynn needed him. So did Zephyr, Elk, and all the others who were in danger should he fail. The queen needed him. Most of all, Osmund needed him now. The queen needed Osmund. Who knew how long the shield could stay standing? The queen was weakening every moment the crystal bled. It was only a matter of time before the Grendel took advantage of her state and the shield failed.

  Elric didn’t believe what the reaper had said. Wynn was still alive. She had to be. He wanted to save her, but he had to trust in her to save herself now. If she were here, she’d tell him to save Osmund.

  The weight of his decision felt like a boulder on his chest. Everything within him told him to find and protect his little sister. But Osmund was right here, and he deserved a chance. He had to get Osmund to help and safety.

  If he were still a shepherd looking after his flock, and he came across a wounded lamb in his quest to find a lost one, he would tend to the wounded one first. Then again, Wynn was not a lost lamb. She was his only family.

  He looked at Osmund. The other prince’s normally dark bronzed skin paled before his eyes. He had to deal with the problem at hand. Even if it broke his heart to abandon his sister to the woods.

  “Don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine,” Elric whispered. He went back to the pit and pulled over the piece of the lattice that he had hauled up onto the edge. With his sword, he hacked away the knots until he created a section that was just big enough for him to pull Osmund on a sort of sled. He tucked Osmund onto the sled, and secured him with the strips of his tunic, before lifting the sled and pulling it down the path. He turned them toward the great shield. His only hope was to get Osmund back to Zephyr, and quickly.

  He prayed his navigational instincts didn’t fail him as he set off through the dark woods.

  Elric pulled the sled, but the going was slow with his injured leg. The paths were steep and rocky. His whole body hurt from the battle with the reaper. Twice he had to stop and climb a tree just to make sure he was going in the right direction. The stormy shield seemed so far away, and he wasn’t sure how far they had wandered from the point where he should meet Zephyr. No matter how difficult things got, he couldn’t give up.

  Osmund’s life hung in the balance.

  “Don’t worry, we’re almost there,” Elric said, hoping it was true. He could see the shield through the canopy of leaves above him. He just needed to figure out which way to go to find Zephyr. Left or right? Never had a such a simple decision been life or death.

  He dragged Osmund forward.

  “Elric,” he said, his voice sounding weak. “You shouldn’t.”

  “Be quiet.” Elric pulled him up the path. “This isn’t up to you. I’m going to get you help. I won’t let you die.” He had to say something to keep Osmund with him. “If you think I’m going to explain all this to the queen without you taking the blame for this little adventure, you’re sadly mistaken.”

  Osmund chuckled, then groaned with a fresh wave of pain. “But Wynn,” he said.

  “I have faith in her.” And he did. If she had survived this long, she could make it a little longer. “You taught me to.”

  “So now you listen,” he grumbled.

  Elric tried to peer through the thick brush get his bearings and figure out which direction to turn. But there was a rustling in the bushes.

  He heard the snort of a hog. Slowly he lowered Osmund’s sled to the ground and drew his sword. He’d finally caught up with the troop of wild pigs. After the reaper, they didn’t seem nearly as scary.

  A boar trotted out from around the thick trunk of a tree. He pulled a cart with strange wheels driven by a man with a dark green face. The elves had found them.

  Elric braced himself as the elf pointed a fearsome contraption at him, loaded with the sharp point of an arrow. His eyes were orange and bright, a contrast to his skin, which was a deep green hue with lighter green patterns over his face and arms. He wore a cloak and hood adorned with bits of brush and bramble that camouflaged into the backdrop of the woods.

  “Quid agis?” he shouted at Elric.

  Shaking his head, Elric held still as more pig-carts slowly emerged from the woods. They were surrounded.

  “I don’t know what you want,” Elric shouted at them. “I can’t understand you. I mean you no harm. I need to find help for my friend.”

  The leader snapped his reins and his boar moved forward. The creature squealed as the driver pulled on a chain attached to a loop in the beast’s nose.

  “You are not fairy, and not elf,” the man said in Elric’s own language. “You speak the old language of the North. What are you?” he asked.

  “I’m in a hurry,” he said, grateful to hear words he could understand. “My friend is badly wounded. He’s been bitten by a reaper.”

  The elf man considered him. “He needs medicine, and quickly. Place him in the back of my cart. My people will help him.”

  “We need to get back to the fairies,” Elric said, pointing in the direction of the shield.

  “Do you want your friend to live?” the leader asked. Elric fell silent. “Then follow my instructions.”

  Elric turned back toward Osmund. Don’t trust them, Osmund mo
uthed at him, though he didn’t open his eyes. Elric tried to lag, to turn back onto the path toward the shield.

  But when he did, he found five different weapons pointed at his neck.

  “I don’t have a choice, do I?” Elric asked.

  The elf shook his head.

  Elric was outnumbered. He didn’t know enough about the elves to be able to tell if he was getting into deeper trouble or not. He had a bad feeling about this, but at the same time, they had promised him they would help. He intended to hold them at their word. He didn’t know what he would do if they didn’t. He’d just have to be clever, and careful.

  “Don’t worry,” he said to Osmund, or maybe he said it to himself as he placed his friend in the cart and climbed in beside him. “We’re going to get help.”

  “Not from elves,” Osmund whispered, then coughed.

  Elric kept a hand on Osmund’s bleeding shoulder and prayed that Osmund was wrong as the cart rumbled through the woods. In the deep part of the forest where the shadows stretched so far that they all blended together into a murky twilight, they came to a stop in a small clearing. A mass of vines created a dark green wall in the heart of the woods. An enormous door opened in the solid vines, driven by large wooden gears and thick ropes. The guards let the party pass. Elric glanced down at Osmund beside him. He looked pale and sweaty.

  As the cart passed through the gate, he realized the wall of vines were growing over a thick wooden wall made of pikes formed from the trunks of young trees. Inside the wall was a village with wood and brick houses. All of the elves here had green skin with distinctive pale patterns. They wore long robes and woven belts that reminded him of the clothing from home.

  The elves took Elric to a large building at the center of the town. More of the elves came out of the buildings to watch them.

  A grand elf with a metal crown and long flowing robes stepped forward. His eyes contained the wisdom of the deepest part of night, glowing like the orange eyes of an owl. And yet, this elf gave him a look of controlled interest. He had to be the leader.