by JM Guillen
“At your disposal, Liz.” Alicia smiled.
“Remember this for me.” I glanced uneasily at the ground as the very earth rippled for several feet in front of me.
Jax sprang to one side, nimble as a cat, and snarled at the forest floor.
“Remember?” Alicia asked.
I did not look at her as I spoke. Strangely enough, as I recited the words, some trace of Jax’s lilt—a hint of haunting melody—echoed through me.
“My back unbroken, reaching for the sky,
My roots deep, seeds planted by one long dead,
Leaves turn in golden autumn, turn in verdant spring,
Silent with fragments of deep knowing,
Speaking without sound, rustles in the wind,
Wrought by one who can never taste my fruit.
What am I?”
“Is that a riddle?” Baxter sounded dismayed. “Fuck. That’s some shit.”
“A tree?” I heard Alicia murmur to herself.
“I don’t know!” I called. “Riddles aren’t—” I cut off as the ground exploded beneath me, a torrent of earth and furious briar.
In an instant, the Twrch-Umbar was on me again, its tusks lunging for my throat.
5
“Oh shit!” I elocuted as I hurled myself to one side.
The bramble boar leapt from the earth itself, as easily as a great white shark might leap from the ocean.
“Hey, asshole,” Rehl called behind me. As I landed, I heard the Beretta report twice, and then twice more.
The boar roared, and agony and fury burned in its cry. It dipped its head and swiped at me, and one tusk shredded its way through my jeans and into my thigh.
Crimson fire. I screamed.
“Starveling little kindling cur,” Jax rasped. From behind, he leapt upon the creature’s back, and buried one of those curious blades in its side. “Slumber now.”
The beast reared, and I saw my chance.
With the slightest effort, I relaxed into the cacophony of Wind at my core. As it tumbled and sang within my heart, I brought to mind the Seal of A’grimm, and prepared to punch the bestial thing squarely in the face.
Yet, at that same instant, the timber swine whirled its head toward me. It sniffed at the air. Those verdant eyes shone, and I felt feckless, gnawing hunger emanate, burning from it.
It drew breath.
Too close. I couldn’t quite explain where the idea came from. However I knew it to be true. Whatever a “Twrch-Umbar” might be, it had definitely taken note the moment I reached within myself to grasp that infinity of power.
A loud thud reverberated in the air, and I felt as if something sharp had been pounded into my skull.
The world radiated with jade flame.
A flickery nimbus burst into existence around me. That auric fire burned cold, and sank icy fingers into my depths.
I screamed as agony licked my flesh like thorns. Unable to move, unable to think, I collapsed to my knees and wailed to the empty sky. My muscles tensed, and I felt as if I had developed seizures.
“Liz!” I heard someone yell, impossibly far away.
I could not respond. I could not breathe. Ribbons of my mind peeled away from me, every bit as visceral as being skinned alive. Something—something vital—cracked loudly, like the snap of a broken bone.
“Goddamn you!” Rehl, swore, true fury in his words. Several sharp, rapid cracks came as he fired the Beretta.
The Twrch-Umbar roared, and sounded more irritated than injured.
Yet the pain immediately faded.
The hateful green shine vanished.
“What?” I gasped and scrambled backward. That had fucking hurt.
“Liz, it’s gone!” Alicia called behind me, but I couldn’t track what she meant.
“No…” I turned from her to the savage thing, uncertain what had gone. The Twrch-Umbar stood right there!
Jax remained on the brute’s back, as he clung precariously by a single blade he’d embedded in the fae creature’s side. He held his second blade high, and as I watched, he swung and embedded it into a thick neck of knotted wood.
The bramble boar went berserk. It bucked and spun, then wailed that unearthly cry again as it leapt wildly about. After half an instant, it threw Jax.
He flew high over the top of the timber bison and landed in the dirt.
The Twrch-Umbar rose and its front feet reared high. With one incredibly loud eldritch bray, it prepared to bring its full weight down on Jax’s head.
“Liz rolled again,” I breathed as I reached internally for the Wind. I had no time to mentally craft any of Simon’s Seals, but I didn’t know that I needed to. As I had done when the wolf-spiders surrounded my friends, I prepared to hurl the ferocity of the Wind with little more than my will alone.
But…
I felt the tempest, felt it as I had been able to for years now. It boiled and burned within me, an infinity of Wind that sang and capered. It delighted in a maelstrom of unreasoning, unreasonable power.
And yet I couldn’t touch it. Not the same way I had. It felt as if my power surged like a great heaving ocean, and I attempted to draw upon it through little more than a straw.
“Liz!” Alicia called frantically. “The Aegis!”
I didn’t have to glance down at my wrist. Even as I brought my attention to the bracelet Simon had given me, I knew it had cracked when the Twrch-Umbar assaulted me. I felt the truth.
Empty. Dead.
Just a trinket. My eyes grew wide with dismay.
In front of me, an explosion of shadows burst around Jax. As the beast plunged down upon him, I heard a susurrus of whispers, and then—
Jax… wasn’t there.
“Not clever-quick like Jax.” The nimble young man stood to the right of me, although I hadn’t seen him spring there. “Old. Hungry and weak.”
“Maybe.” I stepped back, still disconcerted by the lack of Simon’s power-up. “But still big and angry.”
“Gotta flank this guy.” Rehl spoke quietly and took slow, limping steps to his right. “We’re not bowling pins here.”
“Got it.” I took a knife in each hand and mentally prepared myself. “Let’s keep him away from the unarmed civilians.”
“Believe it or not, I was actually happier when I had the shotgun,” Baxter muttered.
“Oh, but guns apparently can’t kill it,” Rehl, quipped. “Which is just swell.”
“Give me a second, here,” I breathed.
“Understood,” Rehl responded. As soon as he had a clear shot, he fired at the Twrch-Umbar’s side.
Which, of course, drew its attention to him. The swine keened as a small hole burst in the interwoven branches of its body.
Bullets might not be able to kill it, but the brambly thing didn’t seem to enjoy them much.
“That’s it, big guy.” Rehl gave the creature a wide smile. “Look at me.”
Meanwhile, I scrambled for an idea. I’d been no slouch before the Aegis, it’d just given me a nice little stat bump. Without it, I simply needed to be better prepared.
“I got this,” I muttered myself. “No problem.” I focused on the Seal of A’grimm and kept the Wind close to my heart. It thrummed there and built slowly.
“Darkness ever prefers glamour’s true shine.” Jax glanced at me nervously, as if he knew what I was doing.
As if I knew what I was doing.
“You want another?” Rehl fired again and struck the fae on its hind quarter.
It snarled as the bullet tore into it and lumbered around toward him.
I held the sweet wonder of the Wind in my heart and took a cautious step forward.
A second.
As before, the Twrch-Umbar noticed the moment I stepped too close to it with my power unfurled. It stopped still in its tracks and sniffed at the air.
“Wary now,” Jax whispered as he stepped sideways. “Cunning ferocity lurks within.”
As if suddenly able to see where it had been blind before, th
e beast snapped its head toward me and those uncanny eyes burned with a fierce, verdant fire.
“Liz…” Alicia, who stood just a few steps behind me, warned.
It opened its mouth and drew breath.
Now.
I grit my teeth and mentally bore down on my imagined Seal of A’grimm. Even as the briar bison drew its breath, I held the Wind in hand. The brilliant blue sigils of the Seal burst into existence around me.
No snark. No sarcastic quip.
With everything I had, I threw the knife and willed the tempest within me to go along with it.
The moment the blade left my hand, it shot out from me as if fired from a cannon.
My blade tore into the creature’s open mouth. Wooden bits exploded from it like a gout of blood.
The beast screamed and fountains of black flame poured from the wound. It went absolutely mad with pain and began to leap and stomp about as it howled with agony.
The Twrch-Umbar, black flame spouting from its mouth and neck, stampeded toward me.
Before I even had the moment to think, Jax hurled into me from one side and we tumbled to the ground.
The beast, maddened with pain and fully committed to the charge, stumbled and fell when it missed me.
“Truly struck,” Jax muttered from where he had landed. “Iron’s coldness grips its heart well.”
“You think that’ll kill it?” I turned to Jax.
“Death follows closely,” Jax uttered.
“Looks pretty messed up.” Baxter crept over to me. “If we can survive getting trampled on, I say you nailed him.” Bax offered a hand to pull me up.
“It’s definitely time to move along.” Rehl stepped near, Alicia in tow.
“Truth, twice told.” Jax spoke while we watched the Twrch-Umbar roll over as it madly tried to avoid what seemed like agonizing pain.
It bleated and wailed, undulating cries that echoed through the mists.
“Yeah, let’s go.” I turned toward Alicia. “Jax here says it’s important we go exactly the way we came.”
“Mortal memory oft leads the errant wayward.” Jax nodded.
“Well, it’s good I have an immortal memory.” Alicia smiled. “I remember exactly how we came, Liz.”
“And I remember what we came for.” Baxter gave me a triumphant grin. “Unless you solved the riddle without telling any of us?”
“No,” I fought back a chuckle. I knew Baxter’s nature. The moment I told Alicia the riddle, he’d have begun work on it. I imagined his mind as a hamster, gnawing away at the problem.
“Well I have it.” He vacillated. “Ninety percent.”
“More than I have,” Rehl admitted.
“Shall we answer you now?” I gestured toward the dying horror. “Would you care to keep your end of the bargain here, in this meadow?”
“Never think it, not once.” Jax shuddered. “I shall wander with.”
“Then let’s wander.” Rehl stared up at the starry sky and frowned. “I’ve had enough adventure for one night.”
6
We wandered then, this time back the way we came.
Once my heart had begun to calm, I slowly realized the wondrous situation we found ourselves in. What with all the strange adventures of the past few days, it had been simple to get caught up in the weirdness of the moment.
Yet a single thought kept trickling through my mind. As we passed through a small glade covered with moss and large mushrooms lit by silvered moonlight, I couldn’t shake my earlier realization.
Jax was a fairy.
A fairy.
I’d been Simon’s mentee for several years now, and he’d honestly kept me pretty insulated, after a fashion. I mean, we’d discussed my gift, and the various ways I could focus and access it. We’d hunted weird creatures, and taken care of haunted schools. Apparently angels were real.
Kinda. Simon liked to be vague.
But fairies? Fairies were a role-playing standard. The fairies lived in the wild places of the world, hidden from mortal men. Sometimes they dwelt Underhill, sometimes they tricked people so they remained at their frolic for a hundred years. One should never eat their food or accept what they said at face value.
Obviously, I’d been completely versed in Andrew Lang’s collections of fairy books.
However, in the moment, none of that information seemed applicable. After all, how could I possibly know how much had simply been made up?
“The Twrch-Umbar loomed o’er this glen.” Jax slid one eye in my direction. “It’s haunted my kind, drank their glamour entire.”
“What exactly was it?” Rehl pulled himself over the log I’d had to jump over on my way in, and offered Alicia a hand.
“A weary sorrow.” Jax sighed. “A remnant gone now.”
The sadness in Jax’s voice touched me. When he spoke, an inherent melody wound through his words. Its beauty fascinated me, and caused each syllable to pluck at my heart.
However, one of us thought more about our situation, and less about how starstruck they were over dealing with a literal legend.
“So, by slaughter-ating the stick-pig, you’re saying we did you a favor.” Baxter did not glance up as he spoke, but kept his eyes on the earthen path before him.
“Clever tongued manniken.” Jax smiled softly. “Would you deign speak words for me as well or simply choose them?”
“He…” I looked wildly at Baxter. What was he trying to pull?
“Perhaps I mis-heard.” Baxter didn’t seem apologetic. “I thought you said your kind had trouble with the creature Liz risked her life to kill.” He tilted his head to the side for a moment. “Do you think it died because of the iron in her knives? That sounds like something you’d have a hard time with.”
“Aiden’s daughter fled wayward, ’gainst counsel.” Jax affixed Baxter with one shrewd eye. “She and her kith found Twilight, and peril there.”
“So she did you no service?” asked Alicia, who met my gaze for just an instant. Her hazy silver eyes twinkled. “You say Liz did no… boon for your people?”
They’ve talked while we strolled. I stepped over a particularly large mushroom, and kept silent. Abriel must have some idea about how to deal with Jax, something we don’t know. She talked with Baxter.
“A boon unsought. Unasked for by my kind.” Jax seemed wary and weary.
“You agree her action is a boon, then.” Alicia nodded. “Let me ask you, what do you normally grant one who answers your riddles?”
“Answer for answer.” Jax ducked beneath the bough of a tree. “Wrought and given, truly.”
“How many answers does one gain if they perform such a service for your people?” Baxter asked the question lightly. “Assuming, of course, they are clever enough to answer your riddle to begin with?”
“A grand assumption.” Jax raised one dark eyebrow. As the moonlight fell across his brow, I noticed for the first time two small, black horns hidden within his messy hair. “One that is oft false.”
“It must be rare indeed that a mortal is clever enough to answer properly.” Alicia’s soft voice felt right at home in the misty shadows. “Rarer still to find a mortal stalwart enough to stand true with one of the fairest folke.”
“And that’s a stone fact.” Jax stopped in place, as if to consider. “Mortal kind fades too, I oft times think.”
“How many answers, Black Horn Jack?” Alicia still spoke softly, but something about the way she uttered his name sang softly in my ears. She didn’t speak as one might in an attempt to capture another’s attention or command them to pay heed.
She spoke his name as one might greet an old friend or a family member believed forgotten.
He gazed at her with eyes old as tree and stone. Dark as pools of sable midnight, and in the half-light of the glade, I thought they reflected ache.
Sorrow, deeper than the forest shadow.
“You are one who knows, then.” His words held wending whispers.
“Knows little.” Alicia smiled. “Bu
t enough.”
For a long moment he remained silent. It seemed he listened to something, some whisper of the earth or secret carried on the wind.
He gazed at each of us, and those dark eyes drank in everything we were, everything we had ever been.
“Three. Three for the glamour-ridden girl.” He spoke firmly and clearly. They rang like a bell in the mist. “Three truths, and the shadows of those truths. Three explanations, freely given, of whatever the Sight shall tell.”
“Three.” Alicia gave him a brilliant smile, and nodded her red head. “That’s fair, and more than fair.”
“But does she ken the answer?” Jax’s smile grew sharp. “If not, wayward she remains.”
“I remember our road home, either way.” Alicia’s tone fell solid, certain.
“Mayhap.” Jax shrugged. “The Twilight ever shifts.”
“But can we, like,” Rehl cleared his throat, then continued, “speak for a moment? Talk about the answer?”
“I only asked the riddle to one.” Jax gazed around to each of us. “Already do I gift you by allowing her aid.”
“And we thank you for your courtesy.” Alicia paused before she added, “And your hospitality as well.”
Something about that struck Jax speechless. Then, he laughed. “Mortal born fools!” Despite the words, Jax shook his head and chuckled warmly. He waved at us, as if to indicate we should go ahead and discuss.
“I don’t believe it’s a tree.” I turned to Baxter and Alicia. “If you just look at the lines, it seems like it might be a tree, but that’s too obvious.”
“Good riddles are never obvious,” Baxter agreed. “The key is to look at some of the lines and try to figure out if they could also match other things. Once you do, you can see if that same item applies across the board.”
“The speaking without sound line gets me.” Rehl gazed at me, and I realized that, just like me, each of my friends must remember the riddle word for word. “Because it’s silent, but it also rustles.”
“I thought about those for a while too,” Baxter agreed. “But the line ‘leaves turn in golden autumn, turn in verdant spring’ finally tripped it to me.” He turned to me. “What else has leaves?”