The Darkling Tide

by Travis Simmons

  “I just have a feeling,” Leona said.

  Abagail’s hopes fell.

  “Have you heard from Skuld?” Rorick asked.

  Leona just shook her head, and looked away from the trail, into the depths of the forest. “Do you think all of the things we used to think were myth actually used to live here?” Leona changed the subject.

  “Like fauns and fairies and the like?” Rorick asked.

  “Yea,” Leona said.

  “I don’t see why not, those are all considered fay, right?” Abagail said.

  “Yea,” Leona nodded. “If the nine worlds are all connected to each other in ways other than Eget Row, do you think maybe our myths were made up from people seeing creatures bleeding through the veil?”

  Abagail hadn’t thought about that before now. “I guess that’s possible.”

  “Myth has to come from somewhere, right?” Rorick said. “How would our ancestors just happen to come up with something that existed elsewhere if they hadn’t seen it before?”

  Leona didn’t respond, but it reminded Abagail of when they were younger, before the darklings had become such a worry. Leona used to like going into the woods and talking to the trees. She always insisted they could hear her, that they were dryads. She also believed that gnomes and other spritely nature spirits lived in the forest.

  Abagail used to imagine she was making them all up, just like she had been Skuld. But what it, all this time, Leona had been able to see things few others could? What if, like Skuld, she really was talking to nature spirits only she could see?

  Abagail sighed and let the thought drift away.

  Gorjugan stood before the open window in the mirror room, staring out across the vast white expanse of the yard toward the Fay Forest. He’d summoned dinner moments before from Anster and was expecting them to arrive any moment.

  But for now he reflected on what was happening in the Fay Forest. His darklings reported back to him, and just recently he called off the black birds and the wolves. He had great faith that the elle folk would do his bidding. They never failed. But they had been set back.

  The elle folk had suffered a great attack, but they would survive. He knew they would survive. Part of him hoped they didn’t, because then he wouldn’t have to worry about repaying them. But if they failed he would have to face Hilda, and that was worse than owing payment to the elle folk.

  A wind blew from the Fay Forest and he could smell possibility in the air. It ruffled his long white hair and billowed his long red jacket. It wasn’t a good smell of possibility, but rather the possibility that the elle folk would fail.

  The God Slayer is out there, he thought. They will fail if they go up against that, and it’s used properly. He could only hope that the group which harbored the weapon didn’t know how to use it.

  But just in case, he should call for reinforcements.

  The frost giants weren’t darklings, so he didn’t need to summon his darkling wyrd to control them. Rather, it was more redeeming a favor. He sent out a wyrded call, and moments later the image of a frost giant wavered before him. He knew the man wasn’t physical, but he was still imposing.

  With long golden braids and a great horned helm, the giant looked somewhat like the warrior Gorjugan had summoned before. That’s where the similarities ended, though. The giant carried with him a great axe that hung to the ground. His nose was pierced through the center with a hooked bone, and his left eye was missing in a mess of scar tissue that ran down the side of his face.

  “What is it, serpent?” the giant asked. At this distance his voice was frail, weakened. The frost giants were far away from Gorjugan, but close to where the God Slayer ventured. They were close to the harbinger settlement and New Landanten, where the accursed elves lived.

  “A favor,” Gorjugan said, his voice cold. The giant stiffened. He knew he couldn’t refuse this after what Gorjugan had done for him.

  “I’m listening,” his ghostly voice said.

  “The God Slayer is in the Fay Forest, seeking out the harbingers of light. I need the group detained and alive.” Gorjugan told him.

  “And what does this God Slayer look like?”

  “Something Olik stole from us,” Gorjugan started. He told the giant what he knew about the weapon, and how badly he needed it. The giant also feared Hilda, though they worshipped her as their goddess, it was more reverence through fear.

  The giant nodded.

  “And there’s one more thing,” Gorjugan said. “There are elle folk hunting the group. If you find them—,”

  “—say no more,” the giant said.

  Gorjugan smiled. He knew how badly the giants hated the elle folk. Likely they would hunt down the imps before they looked for the God Slayer. That was more than fine with Gorjugan. If he’d known the God Slayer was being taken that close to the giants, he would have enlisted their aid long before the elle folk.

  You must stop panicking, he told himself.

  “We will do as you ask,” the giant said. “And consider our debt then repaid.” The image vanished.

  A knock came to the front door, and with a smile Gorjugan closed the window.

  Abagail stormed away from camp...again.

  Daniken shook her head, a sad look on her face.

  “Where were we last time?” the elf asked, glancing sidelong at Leona.

  Leona watched Rorick head off after Abagail, and wondered if they were going to fight again like they did last time. When were people going to give Abagail a break? Was it really the darkling wyrd inside of her? Abagail hadn’t always been the easiest person to get along with, had she?

  “Thinking about Abbie?” Daniken asked her.

  Leona nodded.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” the elf urged.

  “I just don’t understand what is happening,” Leona murmured.

  “It’s the darkling wyrd inside of her,” Daniken said without missing a beat. “We need to get her to the harbingers of light so they can teach her how to control it.”

  Leona just nodded. It was true that Abagail was quicker to anger lately, but she wasn’t unreasonable. The things that upset her were things that would upset anyone, she just got mad faster. Leona supposed it had to be the darkling wyrd within her.

  “There may come a time when Rorick has to do what he promised Abagail before,” Daniken told Leona. Her voice was soft. She obviously didn’t like mentioning that to Leona.

  Leona shook her head. She closed her eyes against the thoughts.

  “But he might not be strong enough,” Daniken said. “We might have to be strong for him.”

  The thought made Leona sick. But she couldn’t help remember how terrified Abagail was that night. Her sister was petrified that she’d caught the shadow plague and had nearly begged Rorick to end her life if it ever became too much. It’s what Abagail wanted.

  “Do you know anything about our aunt?” Leona asked, changing the subject. Right then she didn’t care about learning how to use the scepter. She wanted to change the subject away from Abagail and her potential death.

  “Mattelyn Bauer?” Daniken asked, rooting her eyes to the fire once more. She went back to skinning the rabbits she’d lured out of the forest.

  “Yes,” Leona asked. She didn’t know her aunt, so there wasn’t the sense of urgency that she needed to find her. But Mattelyn was the only one on this world that might be able to help them at all.

  “Last I heard she had taken refuge with the harbingers of light,” Daniken told her, yanking the skin off the second rabbit. “I haven’t seen her for some time. When the darkling, Gorjugan, took over Bauer Hall, she made her way along Singer’s Trail to the harbingers. That was before the long winter.”

  “So she’s been there for a while, and as far as you know, she’s safe?” Leona asked. She skewered the first rabbit on a stick and set it to roasting over the fire.

  “As far as I know,” Daniken said. “Listen, Leo, I know you don’t want to face this, so I will just say
one last thing about the shadow plague.”

  Leona didn’t flinch, but her shoulders tensed. Outwardly there was no indication that talking about her sister’s corruption made her uncomfortable.

  “The shadow plague works in strange ways. Often the person will think they are doing good, when really they are just doing what the plague wants them to. We’ve all witnessed the outbursts of anger for no reason. Next the plague will make the person feel like they can use the wyrd it offers, if only they use it the right way. It’s all a ploy to get the plague to move further through the body.” Daniken handed the second rabbit to Leona.

  Leona skewered that one as well, and sat it beside the first.

  “Just watch for me, ok?” Daniken asked, cleaning her hands on some snow. “I need for you to be strong. The nine worlds depends on warriors like us.”

  Leona didn’t like it, but she nodded her agreement.

  “Abbie,” Rorick called, catching up to her.

  Abagail stopped, her bare right hand clenched in a fist at her side. She looked up into the silent trees. It had been a while since the darkling birds and wolves had followed them. Though she was grateful for the silence, Abagail wondered what had driven them away. What was on their trail now?

  A soft wind stirred the branches, clacking them into one another. Abagail stared up at the trees. It was a warmer evening, and on the breeze there was a hint of spring. Abagail shook her head. Too bad it’s supposed to be summer.

  “What was that outburst about?” Rorick asked. “Why did you storm off?”

  Abagail clutched her aching hand, willing the pain to abate.

  “Rorick, we’ve been here much longer than we should have been,” Abagail told him in much calmer tones than she’d just used with Daniken. “Celeste said we had enough seed to last us through Singer’s Trail. We have been relying on Daniken’s conjuring animals from the forest and slaughtering them. We should have already made it to the harbingers.”

  Rorick sighed and looked out into the forest. His eyes were dark under his mane of golden hair. “I know.”

  They were silent for a time, feeling the warmth of the breeze. They hadn’t ventured far from camp. Abagail could smell the camp fire.

  “Why do you think she’s leading us in the wrong direction?” Abagail asked.

  “Are we sure it’s the wrong direction?” Rorick wondered. “I haven’t seen any other branches off the trail.”

  Abagail knew he was going to say that, and she’d been thinking the same thing. “What if she can do more with her wyrd than attack? What if there was a branch and she covered it up somehow?”

  “I understand you don’t like her,” Rorick said. “I even see that she antagonizes you sometimes, but I don’t think she would do that, do you?”

  “She wants me to fail,” Abagail murmured.

  Rorick took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. “What would be her purpose in doing that?”

  Abagail shrugged. She hadn’t figured that out yet. “I don’t know, but I feel like she’s leading us in the wrong way, and every moment we are away from the harbingers, the plague takes a stronger root inside me.”

  Rorick opened his mouth to answer when Daphne shuttled up the trail toward them, the pulsing of her purple light stronger and more frantic than Abagail had seen it in some time.

  “What is it?” Abagail asked, unclenching her hand. She stepped toward the pixie, barely able to make out what the tiny figure was doing. Daphne seemed to be saying something, but Abagail just couldn’t hear her. She could see the worry on the pixie’s face, however.

  Daphne pointed behind herself, and looked back down the trail where she’d come from.

  “Is that light down there?” Rorick asked.

  Abagail frowned. The sun was setting behind them. Furthermore, the canopy of the forest was too thick to let the weakening sunlight through to the forest floor.

  The smell of smoke wafted to her again and Abagail knew that it wasn’t the smell of smoke form their camp.

  “Oh no,” Abagail said. She grabbed Rorick with her left hand and started tugging him backwards.

  “What is it?” Rorick asked.

  “Fire,” she whispered.

  They raced back to camp, Daphne following overhead, keeping pace with them. They broke into the clearing at the same time, gasping for air. Daniken surveyed them perplexed, and Leona jumped to her feet, on edge by their sudden appearance.

  “What’s happening?” Leona asked.

  “Fire,” Rorick gasped for air.

  “Behind us,” Abagail said.

  “What? How?” Leona wondered, turning to the elf.

  Daniken’s eyes were dark. She looked around behind Abagail and Rorick as if she didn’t believe them, and maybe she didn’t. Something in her eyes registered that she knew they were telling the truth.

  “Is there any way to protect against it?” Leona asked.

  “Protect us from a forest fire?” Daniken asked. “Not likely. That’s something you just can’t guard from with wyrd.”

  “Is there any way you can put it out?” Rorick asked.

  Daniken looked to Daphne, and something passed between the fay folk.

  “Daphne says it’s too large for one elf to handle,” Daniken said. “Hurry, pack your things.”

  Camp was packed in record time, and Leona was picking up the skewered rabbits as if they would be able to eat them at some point.

  They set out at a run down the trail. Once out of the clearing there was no snow on the trail, but the tangle of roots was hard to maneuver.

  “Maybe it will go out?” Leona said.

  “Maybe,” Daniken said. She looked above them at the canopy. “There might be enough snow to put it out. We have a bigger issue, however.” Daniken said.

  “What’s that?” Rorick asked.

  “What caused the fire,” Daniken wondered.

  “Stay toward the front,” Daniken said, setting her things down close to the entrance of the cave. “I don’t know how far back this goes, and I don’t know if all of it is protected by the warding. Or what might be lurking in the depths.”

  The cave had come up almost at the perfect time. They’d been running so long they could barely move when it came into view. The back of the cave was dark, and Daphne posted herself just a few feet back from the entrance. Abagail imagined that’s where the warding of Singer’s Trail ended.

  “Don’t go farther back than where Daphne is,” Abagail said. “I think that’s where the protection of the ward ends.”

  Abagail eased down the bedding and rolled her shoulders. Checking her short sword in its sheath, she moved back toward the entrance. Daniken peered outside and Leona sat against the wall.

  Abagail joined Rorick back on the trail, peering back down where they’d come from.

  “Any sign of the fire?” Abagail asked.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head.

  It was deep night now. Without the light of the moon scepter, they wouldn’t have been able to find their way. Abagail wasn’t sure what stage the moon was in, but it didn’t matter, the canopy in this part of the Fay Forest didn’t allow for light to break through.

  She couldn’t see any glow along the path behind them, nor could she smell any fire.

  “Maybe it stopped?” Abagail said.

  “Maybe,” Rorick said. He didn’t sound hopeful.

  Abagail heard noise in the front of the cave, and she turned back in time to see Daniken using her scepter to light a pile of the wood Rorick had been carrying.

  “The wood is nearly gone,” Rorick told Abagail. “We need to get out of here soon. We won’t survive without fire.”

  “You broach the topic this time,” Abagail told him.

  Rorick smirked. “Right, we don’t want you two dissolving into a fight again. You would likely storm right off into the fire this time.”

  Smiling, Abagail entered the cave again, going as far back as she could, which wasn’t far. She didn’t want to be close t
o Daniken just then, but she was cold and still needed the heat from the crackling fire the elf had just conjured.

  “We are running low on supplies,” Rorick said.

  Daniken nodded. “I know.”

  “We only have enough wood for another night or two.”

  Daniken nodded.

  “When are we going to reach the harbingers?” Rorick pressed.

  He was much harder with Daniken than Abagail thought he’d be.

  “The path is . . . strange,” Daniken told him, looking out at the trail.

  “Strange how?” Leona asked, setting the rabbits over the fire.

  “It seems to be lengthening . . . somehow,” the elf said. “I don’t recognize this section.”

  “So what do we do?” Rorick wondered. “We are still on the trail, right?”

  “Yes, the trail is still protecting us, but I just don’t know this area. It feels like we are going into mountains,” Daniken said.

  “Could something be altering the trail?” Abagail wondered.

  “That’s the only thing I can think of,” Daniken told her, refusing to look back at her. Likely she sensed that Abagail wondered if what was changing the trail was Daniken.

  “Alright, so, if this keeps up, we are going to have to find wood for fire,” Rorick said.

  Daniken nodded.

  “Is it safe to go off the trail enough to gather wood?” Rorick asked her.

  “If you take someone with you,” Daniken said. “I would suggest I go along, Abagail’s plague would be more a hindrance than a help.”

  “How so?” Abagail asked, barely keeping her tone civil.

  “It would be more a beacon for the darklings than it would protection against them,” Daniken told her.

  Abagail calmed down. That seemed plausible.

  “But the mountains are far from where we need to be,” Daniken told them. “They are farther west than New Landanten and the harbingers.”

  “That’s a problem,” Rorick said.

  “Not the only problem,” Daniken said. “The mountains are home to the frost giants.”

  Celeste alighted in a clearing. Behind her she felt the gathering light of Skye and Mari.