by A. B. Keuser
They walked for hours, and Hazel broke out a small portion of the food she’d stolen. They ate and walked in silence.
Every so often, Hazel glanced behind them. Common sense told her that Krell was not the sort of man who would chase them into the forest, but one never knew.
She stopped at a divergence in the path, the white rocks led onward, but the forest seemed hacked away here, branches broken and sharp. The ground was uneven, the path studded with jagged stones, dirt and grass clumped over roots that broke through the soil threatening to trip unwary travelers.
Glancing down the seemingly easier path, Hazel looked at Gretel and stepped onto the broken path once she received a nod. For half a moment, she considered telling Gretel to stay where she was—where it was safe. But she didn't trust the forest, and being separated was a more dangerous prospect than starting off on an uncertain path.
The new path led on for a half mile before it opened into a clearing too large to be natural. The trees curved away from its center as though avoiding something malicious.
At its center, an enormous pile of leaves had been blown about, revealing a hidden trap.
The trap was a gigantic version of what she used to snare rabbits. A rope twined with steel fibers, looped at the center like so many she’d set before. It was set over a spring mechanism that looked too delicate to be practical, but Hazel didn’t dare test it.
There was no other way into the clearing but the narrow path through which they’d come. Whoever had set the trap expected the creature to make its own way into the clearing. That, or they didn’t know the precise nature of the quarry they hunted.
Whatever creature this had been set for, it was not one she wanted to run afoul of. The snare’s catch was twice the width of her not inconsiderable waist. The clearing it had been set in, with a tattered piece of fabric fluttering from a far branch, was far too large.
She stood and wiped the dirt from her palms, only now registering that she’d once again gotten caught up in her own thoughts and ignored Gretel. It was something that happened rarely, but it was still something she disliked.
The breath carried a faint whisper, like leaves brushing over the ground, Hazel froze, looking at the dark branches in front of her.
“Whatever this place is, I don’t like it.” Reassuring herself that her bag’s straps were secure, she said, “Are you as ready to get out of here as I am?”
There was no response.
A shiver traced down her spine and she turned back to find Gretel was gone.
*
When they reached the clearing and found the trap, Hazel was enthralled. Her mind worked in a way that Gretel didn't usually understand and that was okay. But she was not about to stand in a cold clearing for two hours while Hazel muttered about gears, bolts, and enormous rabbits.
She carefully explored the clearing for a few minutes until it was clear there was nothing interesting there.
Even the scrap of fabric—that looked like a torn bridal veil—wasn't as interesting as she'd initially thought. The trees were grown too tightly together here to draw her attention. Their latticework pattern was intriguing, but too uniform to spend much time on.
When she turned back to Hazel it was clear that an end was not readily in sight. Moving through the clearing, she paused at its entrance and said, "I'm going to take a little walk further along. See if there's anything we need to be aware of."
Hazel's response was a mumbled affirmative, and Gretel shook her head, unable to hide the smile that came to her lips. Hazel’s mind was a maze even she would get lost in from time to time.
The original path wound further along, its branches slowly growing less entwined and Gretel felt an uncanny relief as beams of light began to appear from the slowly clearing tangle. The darkness of the forest had left her feeling as though the day had died before it had been given a chance to shine. It had made her weary and had led to yawning and a desire to simply go back to sleep. She smiled at the memory of why she was still so tired.
Curling up with Hazel once more was an idea that sent warm trickles down her spine and coiling deep in her belly.
That was the life she’d chosen. A life with Hazel. A life where they could be together and leave everything else behind.
The fact that the first step on that journey was plunging into an enchanted wood did not seem too large a price to bear. Nothing worth doing came without cost.
Even in the sunlight, she yawned into her hand.
Tired as she was, she was not about to take a nap in this forest, and so she walked with purposeful steps, letting each one help to keep her awake as the thudding of her steps reverberated through her leg bones.
The forest was not so foreboding as the stories had made it out to sound. Save for the fact the trees were made of metal and magic, there wasn't much different about this forest from the one that surrounded the village where she'd grown up.
Not that she spent much time in the forest.
Maybe that was why this one unsettled Hazel so much. She'd spent most of every day in that forest for six years, she would know it in ways that Gretel never could.
Taking a deep breath, Gretel inhaled the heady smell of damp earth and full blooms as she stepped into a cathedral-like glen. Here, the trees grew to towering heights before boughs sprouted from their trunks and a trickling brook cut its way through the deep green forest floor. Sunlight streamed down and caught on the shiny metal wings of butterflies and made dust motes glow.
In the eerie light the forest seemed to shift and sway with each passing breeze and Gretel found herself swaying with it. But the peace that wrapped around her here was uneasy and even as she followed the path through the glen and over the tiny bridge made from three slender logs lashed together, she could not shake that sense of foreboding.
She wondered if Hazel would have turned around at the feeling that skittered across her skin now. She didn’t know why she hadn’t turned tail yet either.
It was remarkable how often she asked herself what Hazel would do in any situation.
More often than not, the answer was one she wouldn't have chosen herself.
That was why she continued on.
The path led her back into the tangle of forest, its white stones winding like a pair of snakes to either side.
Five minutes later, when she realized how long she'd been gone and decided to turn back, a haunting tone echoed to her and she turned to find a meadow just beyond a short path lined by brambles.
Why hadn’t she noticed it before?
Why didn’t that seem to matter anymore?
Full sun fell on lush grass, and Gretel smelled the clear, crisp air of spring. Even from here, she could hear the birds singing as they flitted about in the sliver of blue sky she could see from where she stood.
It was too beautiful to be real. Taking a step forward, she peered into the hazy distance and leaned, looking to the gorgeous day seemingly feet away.
"NO!" a tiny hand caught her by the skirt before she could step off the path and into the clearing.
Startled, she turned back and looked down to the girl who quickly stepped away, withdrawing her hand.
She was dirty, her round face streaked with dark soot that had been carved away by tears. Her dress was in tatters, but the basket she held in one hand looked brand new.
"You can't go in there. It's a veil.” Her words were a command, but her posture made her look smaller than she was. “It will draw you to the center and then the magic will consume you."
Gretel blinked from the beautiful clearing and back to the little girl.
The girl’s voice was quiet, her eyes downturned. “There’s been too much death in this forest already.”
She trusted the girl's convictions and so she made a point to step back onto the path in the hopes of easing her mind. She looked as though the sky would fall in on them any moment.
"Where did you come from?"
“It doesn’t matter. Leave while you still can.�
� She glanced into the dark forest that lay to the opposite side of the veil. “And watch out for the irzahara. I don’t know if it will go after you, but better to be safe, right?”
She ducked her head as though expecting a reprimand, eyes focused on the handle clasped in her small fingers.
The intricate basket in her hand was made of glittering metal strands and lined with a soft green fabric, the contents looked like well-trimmed weeds. Gretel had been gardening most of her life and she had no idea what half of them were.
A grumbling roar echoed from far in the distance before it dissipated to a mechanical wheeze. The girl glanced in the direction of the sound.
“What was that?”
“The irzahara. There are wards that keep it from finishing its job, so it roams the forest waiting… watching.”
“Watching for what?”
One tiny eyebrow rose as she said, “Weakness.”
The girl shivered as if the very word might draw the creature.
She wanted to pull the girl close and assure her it was going to be alright. Instead, she asked, “Where do you live? Can I walk you home?”
The girl had been studying Gretel's face, but at that question, she snapped to alertness and started away, down the path.
"Don't follow me."
Barefoot though she was, the little girl ran, feet making soft sounds on the loose dirt beneath her feet.
Gretel stared at her a moment before her mind caught up to her. "Wait!"
She ran, but the little girl vanished around the next corner and she glanced back the way she'd come. Already she was too far away from Hazel, but that little girl—one who had cried too recently—could be all alone.
Determined, she hurried down the path after her, hoping that the girl hadn't darted into the underbrush. If she lost her now, she doubted she’d be able to find her.
Hearing the faint sound of someone moving ahead of her, she continued to chase after, heedless of anything else.
When the forest broke open, it did so all at once and without warning. One moment, Gretel rushed through too-close trees… and the next, she stumbled into another clearing. The white stones disappeared from the path’s edge and the only thing she could see was a cottage set behind a short fence that lay across a wide field from her. The door to that cottage shut with a hard snap and the sound echoed to her like tinkling chimes.
Staring at the façade in front of her, Gretel walked forward without thinking.
The house was enormous. Its tall roof sat like a gilded crown atop the intricately cut stones that made up the house's walls. On one corner, a tower rose from the roofline, and Gretel could imagine the view from its intricately patterned shining windows.
Its front yard was lined with overflowing rose bushes and bright blooms she had never seen before. The garden tucked into the corner held dark soil sprouting with all kinds of vegetables and Gretel stopped at the gate, afraid to touch the glossy black iron.
Glittering beams of sunlight bounced off the windows in shimmering rainbows and she knew, wholeheartedly and unequivocally that Hazel simply had to see it.
As she stepped away, her conviction wavered and she glanced back over her shoulder. It pulled her back and her breath caught in her throat as a beam of light bounced off one window pane, glittering like diamonds.
Her hands brushed the gate, and cold heat fizzled through her. She had to get Hazel.
Now.
She dropped her basket at the gate, turned, and ran.
Running through the forest, she found Hazel in the cathedral glen immediately. Some far part of her brain couldn't reconcile the distance she'd traveled away with the one she'd traveled back. She pushed it away.
"There you are." Hazel said, pulling her bags more tightly over her shoulder. "I was just about to get worried."
Ignoring her words, Gretel grabbed hold of her hand and tugged her along. "I have something incredible to show you!"
Hazel tugged at her hand imploring her to slow down, but she couldn’t. This was too important.
She dragged her back through the path lined with white rocks. The veil had no pull on her as she passed this time and she burst out into the clearing without slowing down.
Still running, she stooped to scoop up her basket and pulled Hazel through the now open gate and into the yard. Hazel fought her, but she knew this was right. Once inside, she dropped both Hazel's hand and her own basket. Turning a long circle to look at the glorious edifice around her. It was too beautiful.
Breathing a satisfied sigh, she sank to the ground and smiled up at the house with her chin in her hands.
Relief settled over her like a comforting blanket and though something tugged at the back of her mind like the pounding of fists on a distant door, she couldn’t be bothered to question it.
Their problems were over.
FOUR
Their problems had multiplied.
Hazel stood frozen in the shabby yard Gretel had dragged her to, and swallowed back her initial thoughts. Gretel was not crazy, and voicing the panicked fear that sprang to mind wouldn’t do either of them any good.
Sitting in the dried, yellow grass, her normally sane lover looked up at the house as though it was a gilded palace. Grimacing, Hazel turned her attention back and studied it again—now that she wasn’t trying to keep up with Gretel’s hellish pace. Looking for what could possibly have captured Gretel’s attention so strongly, her gaze traced over the unnatural cottage.
The three story structure had a high roof made of corrugated metal with a conical peak over a tower that grew from its front like a lopsided tumor. The edges of the dark gutters were bent, rust had left pock marks in at least five places and the ridgepole was broken and crumbling down the slope of the front.
Its exterior walls seemed to have been stripped. They were made of bent and buckling gears interspersed with stones that were weather worn and pitted. Dust and cobwebs covered the windows that still had glass while grayed boards covered those on the higher levels. Even from here, Hazel could smell the mold.
The door sat at an odd angle, stained black. Something evil seemed to grow upward from the dank ground. Its handle was the only part of the edifice that seemed to be new.
A prickle of awareness covered over her skin as she took a step forward, and something inside her seemed to tug backward, as if her body knew to leave, even when her curious mind wanted to explore further.
Gretel made a placid noise beside her, and Hazel looked down to where the woman she loved sat in seeming rapture. She rocked gently as she stared up at the falling down house. The grass beneath was fading from yellow to brown and only existed in patches in the small lawn that was bisected by an uneven stone path. The plants seemed to shrink away from the house. Nothing but dry dirt lay against its foundations, then the prickly grass a foot away. Weeds sprouted behind Gretel and the stone fence through which Gretel had dragged them was lined with roses that grew at odd, twisting angles. The blossoms were sickly, their petals faded.
Tucked in the far edge of the front yard, almost to the house’s side, a patch of rust-colored dirt held what looked like a garden—though it seemed to have more weeds than edible plants.
There was no well. No light escaped from the dark windows. The house looked abandoned.
Everything surrounding it was dead and decayed.
Another tug at her insides made her step back. There was a darkness here that couldn’t exist without a powerful magic. Gretel’s enthrallment was a clear sign of that.
If not for that tug, and the tingling in her gut, Hazel might have dismissed it as the simple enchantment of the forest. This was something worse… something far more dangerous.
Magic was a pervasive force when it turned to rot.
Somehow, it had captured Gretel’s attention and was not about to let go. Enchantments too often led to an ugliness disguised as beauty.
Dropping down to squat beside her, Hazel said, “If this place isn’t abandoned, it’s someone’s hou
se. We need to go. Sitting in their front yard is rude.”
“No.” She shook her head, not looking at her. “We’re expected.”
The monotone surety of her words sent a spike of dread through Hazel. “How do you know?”
“I know.” Nodding, Gretel didn’t take her eyes off the cottage.
She made no attempt to move. Even her breathing was shallow, chest barely rising over the line of her leather corset.
The wall she stared at was a twisted amalgamation of metal and gears, and while Hazel was not as enraptured by the dilapidated house as Gretel seemed to be, she was still curious. Stepping carefully around Gretel, she moved to the house's siding and touched a gear. It broke off in her hand and turned to ash before the wind swept it from her hand.
Something dark and gritty lingered in her hand and threatened to claw its way up her palm, onto her arm. Every hair on her arm rose and she shivered at the thought as she slapped her hand against her pant leg, trying to dislodge the grit.
A hard click and thump repeated from somewhere in the house, like a wounded soldier dragging her twisted but usable leg.
Whatever this place was, they needed to be rid of it. Hazel should have gotten them out as soon as she felt the tug.
"Gretel, we have to go." She turned back, but Gretel didn't seem to hear her. "Honey?"
Stepping up to her, Hazel shook her shoulder and Gretel swayed with the motion. She was not going to budge on her own.
Blowing out a breath of trepidation, Hazel pulled the basket out of her hand before stooping down to pick Gretel up. They could leave it behind, so long as they got out of the yard and back to the relative safety of the forest.
Gretel was limp as a rag doll, and Hazel had to maneuver around her bag before she was able to hike her over her shoulder.
Three steps away from where she’d sat, Gretel went rigid, four steps and she started struggling. At six, she was screaming, and Hazel refused to let her go as she frantically tried to get back to where she had been.