After the Dark

by Spencer Labbe

  15

  Taken

  “Make it charring tight, Damian!” a voice cried sharply, cutting Pil out of a blank dream. “If that midget gets free, then you can go off chasing him through the forest — and you two can be chained together.”

  Pil felt a rope tighten harshly at his side. He opened his eyes groggily. His head was throbbing.

  “Basil letting that Elfin child get the better of her, honestly,” Sage was saying half to herself as she looked off into the forest.

  Another pull of the rope brought Pil’s attention to the side. A Fairy boy was hunched over, fixing Pil roughly to a tree. The boy was meek with shaggy black hair; he was wearing a dark-red leather vest that matched his dark expression. His demeanor, perhaps, was not so much fierce but simply exaggerated by his large eyes, like black orbs, and the scars that played sinisterly around his lips.

  “Shouldn’t let her have any of his blood either, honestly, an Elfin child!” Sage went on in a tirade. “Don’t you go getting any for yourself either!” she screamed suddenly, glaring at the Fairy boy sharply. The boy nodded solemnly without looking up from Pil’s bindings.

  “I didn’t go through all that hassle not to end up with a prize,” Sage continued and then her eye caught Pil’s, and she broke out in a smug smile. “And you, boy, don’t make my life any harder or you’ll lose your flavor… I’ll have to chase after your little friends, and it won’t go over well for any of you.”

  Pil said nothing but glared fiercely at her. He seemed to have a clear head at last. He saw Sage for what she truly was: harsh and cruel like the edge of a blade. As he glared at her he could tell that she would keep her promises and would delight in punishing him.

  “Stand watch and light a fire. It’s cold as night,” Sage commanded the Fairy boy before she turned abruptly and ducked into the sole tent.

  The forest was silent for a while as the Fairy boy, Damian, bustled around the clearing, fixing Pil’s bonds and starting a fire.

  Pil considered the boy cautiously. He didn’t seem to be in any position of power, but perhaps he could be persuaded or bribed.

  “Hello,” said Pil politely as Damian finished his chores and returned to stand watch by him. Damian ignored him, staring stoically off into the forest. “Nice little spot you’ve got here, very cozy by the tree away from the fire…” Pil went on.

  The boy again said nothing. His expression was bleak, uninterested.

  “I thought there were only women Fairies?” asked Pil conversationally.

  Damian raised his brows slightly and turned his glassy black eyes to face him.

  “There aren’t,” he whispered quietly, almost harshly.

  Pil raised his eyes and surveyed the clearing. “I see… and do all the men follow the women’s rule?”

  Damian’s face hardened suddenly. His expression darkened, but he said nothing. He faced away from Pil again.

  Pil changed track immediately. “I mean to say, Sage is very bossy towards you. I was just wondering if all Fairies are so cold.”

  Damian looked as though he had not heard Pil, but something in the shine of his eyes suggested otherwise.

  “If it were me, I would leave — leave the forest — leave Sage… I prefer being on my own, anyway…” Pil trailed off as if in deep thought.

  The clearing was silent for a while; only the crackling of the wood made any sound. Pil wondered if Sage had fallen asleep. He wondered how far away his friends were. Surely they had followed him, and hopefully Sage had only been teasing when she mentioned the Bahbeq…

  “Basil,” said Damian at last, bringing Pil from his reverie. “Was it you who knocked her unconscious?”

  There was no tone in his words, but Pil knew he should lie. “Yes, almost got Sage too…” He shrugged.

  Damian turned away again, considering this. He looked away so long, Pil wondered if he would say anything, until at last he spoke, barely audible.

  “You should have killed her.”

  Pil said nothing for a moment, thinking Damian might go on, but he turned away as though nothing had been said.

  “But aren’t they your kin? Your friends?”

  Damian’s face hardened quickly and then, without a word, he turned on his heel and walked farther away, almost out of Pil’s line of sight. Pil was about to say something, to apologize maybe, but then, as his eye followed Damian out of sight, something else caught his attention.

  Tied up at the edge of the clearing were three small figures, slumped lifeless against the base of a large tree. Their skin was pale, almost to match the white-gray of the oak. They looked at first like an odd root formation, but then Pil recognized the middle figure.

  “Brixton…” he whispered, shocked. And next to him were Pheonix and Raven, the identical brothers. All three of them were still as stone and deathly white.

  "Are they dead?" Pil asked without looking at Damian and was surprised to find his voice shrill, but quite steady.

  “Nearly,” said Damian quietly.

  Pil nodded. He felt suddenly sick, but he wasn’t quite sure why. Brixton had surely betrayed the Exidite; certainly, he had tried to kill Sandy. And the boys who followed him religiously were no less responsible.

  Still, they were Elfin. And who knew what kind of torture they had endured at the hands of Sage and her sister… It wasn’t a punishment Pil would have suggested for anyone, even Brixton Bells.

  Hope suddenly left Pil. What chance did he have of escaping, really? He felt like simply falling asleep and leaving everything up to fate. After all, Felicity, Dirk, and Sandy were nowhere near equipped to fight a Bahbeq, let alone track a Fairy through an unfamiliar forest. They would be better off going home, leaving him and returning to Westleton. But they wouldn’t, he knew Felicity and Dirk all too well. They would chase after him until they died. And they would die, he was almost sure of it.

  Pil felt helplessness overtake him. He could only attempt to help them find him, or attempt to escape on his own.

  “Damian…” said Pil quietly. “What will they do to me?”

  Pil looked over at the dark boy leaning casually against a far tree. Damian shrugged nonchalantly. “Likely drain you of your blood. They feed on blood — but if they are angry, they might torture you — or worse.”

  Pil looked at him curiously. “You say they as though you’re not a part of them.” He thought about how Sage had snapped at Damian about drinking his blood. “Are you not allowed to drink?”

  Damian glanced at him, his brow furrowed. “I don’t want to drink.” He said it almost angrily. “We can survive on food if we need to, but our powers weaken. I don’t have any powers to weaken, so…” he shrugged again.

  This was a very interesting statement to make, thought Pil. Not only was he answering Pil’s questions, but he was essentially telling him his weaknesses. Perhaps Damian wasn’t entirely happy with his lot.

  “Why not?” Pil asked quietly, hoping not to offend.

  “Because I am seventeen,” said Damian tonelessly. “Fairy boys don’t get their magic until they turn eighteen…”

  “Is that why they order you around? Because you don’t have your powers?”

  Damian looked at him, hard; rage was plain on his face. Pil had clearly said the wrong thing. Damian sat quietly for a long while after that, and Pil let the silence lie, feeling the immediate tension in the air. If he couldn't convince Damian to help him, then he would have to give his friends some sort of sign…

  Pil let the silence deepen and deepen until he felt Damian's attention wander elsewhere. All the while Pil scanned the forest for any sign of movement. The trees were quiet now, not even a breeze moved through them. Again and again, he felt his eye falling on the sole tent. For how much longer would Sage rest? How much more time did he have…

  Quietly at first, Pil began to whistle. It wasn't anything more than a thin noise like a far-off call from a bird, but slowly he began to raise the volume until it became a sharp note. It could have been the wind w
histling harshly through the trees. Pil avoided Damian's eye but he could feel the boy staring at him from out of sight. Pil whistled still louder, keeping the tent in the corner of his eye.

  There was no reply. Eventually, Pil fell silent, staring at the fire which was roaring merrily. He sat in silence, his mind whirring, and then as if from a distant memory, a note cried through the trees. It was so quiet, Pil thought he might have imagined it. Hurriedly he looked to Damian who was glaring through the trees, listening hard. Hope returned with a rush of wind. Without thinking, Pil blew out a sharp and high whistle in reply.

  Almost immediately Sage rushed out of the tent in a panicked frenzy. Her black eyes caught sight of Pil and he cut the noise sharply off. She seemed to fly the distance between them until she was glaring furiously down her nose at him.

  “HOW DARE YOU!” Sage screeched harshly. Her eyes looked hard and violent as she pulled Pil’s face severely up to meet hers. “If — you — ever, do something like that again,” she began in a cold anger. “I will find your little friends for you… and I will kill them in front of you. I will show them the meaning of pain.”

  With a furious grasp, she bore down on his neck. The wound exploded with agony as she tore into his flesh taking three, harsh, pulls of blood from him. When she had finished, she threw his face roughly away and wiped her mouth of his blood. Pil’s vision swam as she walked away from him, his head was pulsing feverishly.

  “And you!” Sage continued coldly. “The next time you let him pull something like that — I will cut off a hand of yours. Am I understood?”

  Pil heard Damian mumble something as his blood pulsed through his ears and his vision went sharply black. With a quiet exhale, Pil felt the energy leave him and his head casually droop. Once again, he fell into a dark slumber.

  Gentle stabs of sunlight brought Pil sharply back into consciousness. He felt like he had been starved for days, his eyelids felt unusually heavy, and his lips were cracked with thirst. Slowly he forced his eyes into a squint and took in his surroundings. The clearing was much the same, almost peacefully still; only the dying embers showed the passage of time.

  Sage was once again absent, and Pil was surprised to find Damian closer at hand, hovering only a few feet away. Pil examined him, he was very bleak, his face void of any emotion. It seemed to Pil as though all the progress he had made had been shortly reversed.

  Sage presumably was inside the tent, which remained as motionless as the three Elfin boys tied up a few yards away. Pil had only a short time to spare for them before he turned his thoughts sharply back to his escape plans. Damian had done his job well on his bindings. His predicament, though he now knew his friends were searching for him, remained much the same.

  From the sound of the whistle, they were far off in the woods. Though his signal might have given them somewhat of a direction, he hadn't been able to continue it long enough. And if he tried it again... well, he couldn’t take that risk. Sage was as dangerous as her word.

  “That was stupid of you,” said Damian suddenly. “You must taste good for her not to have killed you already.”

  Pil looked up at him tiredly. “Well, it seems like she plans on killing me in the end.” He shrugged. “Not much I can do about that.”

  Damian nodded absently. “Are you an Exidite?”

  Pil looked at him, taken aback. “Yes,” he said bracingly.

  “You look young…”

  Pil glared at him. “I’m seventeen, and of age. I am an Exidite. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here, would I?"

  Damian looked at him as though he were appraising his capabilities. “And you think you’re a match for a Fairy? At your age, I mean — you can’t have been an Exidite for very long.”

  “Well, take a look at Basil regarding that,” said Pil, quite offended. “I’ve seen a lot recently that is more than it at first appeared.”

  “You can’t escape, you know… not like that,” said Damian suddenly, in a hushed tone.

  “And why not?” asked Pil bitterly.

  “You were bitten,” Damian gestured to his neck. “Her powers will have sway over you even if you’re wary of them.”

  Pil looked at Damian suspiciously; why was he telling him all this? Was this some Fairy trick...?

  “So I should just wait to be killed, then?”

  “There are ways around it…” said Damian in a low whisper. “Burning the wound, for one. Clean fire will purify the wound and release her hold on you.”

  Pil looked at him closely for any sign of deceit. “Why tell me this?”

  Damian was silent for a long time, his black eyes staring off into the forest, his mind far away. “I don’t know, really.” He paused awkwardly and went on more quietly, “I’m sure you’ve realized by now… I’m in no better a position than you…”

  Pil had realized it. In fact, he had been counting on that fact to use to his advantage… a thought came suddenly to him. “What is it you want?”

  Damian smiled slyly. “I want to be free…” he said in a whisper so low a gentle breeze might have carried it away.

  “Free from what?” said Pil, guessing the answer.

  “Them,” he said simply. There was a short pause in which Damian stared resolutely at Pil. “I want you to kill them.”

  “But why? Aren’t you all Fairy? Why can’t you run away?”

  Damian looked as though he were struggling with something and then he moved a few paces closer to Pil. “I have nowhere to go.” He paused and suddenly he looked just as helpless as Pil felt.

  “In Carroway Valley, where I’m from, there are no men Fairy. Well, there’s only one, actually — the King. For the rest of us — if you’re born a boy, that is — you’re sold off immediately to another family as a slave with your mouth sewn shut. You grow up being used, and when they’re done with you, they kill you.”

  Pil looked at him in silent shock. “What?! How — why — what?! Why don’t you run — or — or fight? That’s just…”

  “Run where? Fight how?” said Damian fiercely. “You don’t understand… we are under their control; we aren’t taught — we can’t speak…” He broke off and his black eyes looked suddenly full of an unreadable emotion.

  Pil took in a deep steadying breath and looked down. He thought his life had been rough, but by comparison, this was something he couldn't comprehend. He felt suddenly sick again.

  “That’s just barbaric,” he said. “Why?”

  Damian nodded and looked away. “It is Fairy law that the strongest is King — long ago the men fought amongst themselves for the title. It was a rough time — always a war, always fighting. Then one day a woman caught the eye of the current King. Women aren’t as strong —”

  “They seem pretty strong to me,” Pil argued grumpily.

  “They have a power called Lure; it’s a form of attraction irresistible to those who aren’t Fairy. Men have real magic, no woman had ever defeated a man to become King… but… this Fairy… she didn’t need Lure, she caught the heart of the King and then when he was weak, she took his heart in her hand — and ascended the throne. Fairies are loyal only to strength; they obeyed her as she made it a law to drink blood.”

  “What? To drink blood —”

  Damian nodded gravely. “We had heard how drinking blood would strengthen us — but we also knew that it led to madness.” Damian paused. “We Fairies were fierce but never evil. The Venor in us could be quelled. But as we began to drink blood, we fell into madness. When everyone was as mad as the Queen herself — she gave an order out for all the men to be slaughtered.”

  “But what about the children? How did they continue to reproduce?” interrupted Pil.

  Damian’s expression hardened. “The boys were all sold off as slaves, like I said. By force sometimes. And then, when they were of age, they were forced to reproduce and then slaughtered before they got their magic. They were intent that no man be raised strong enough to throw down the Queen. Women had been oppressed for so long… in the ma
dness, it seemed like a good idea to many."

  “But you said there is a King still? Right now?” said Pil, confused. “Why wouldn’t he get rid of that law?”

  “Why should he? Kastellion, King of the Fairies,” Damian practically spat the words. “He convinced his master to get rid of the stitches and then won her heart. He ran before he was killed, and when he got his power; he killed the Queen as she lay asleep… When he became King, many of us thought the rules would change; the old order restored, or at least the boys freed — but he did no such thing. He grew content with his power, filled with greed and a selfish nature, he continued our oppression.”

  There was a long silence after this proclamation in which both boys glanced periodically at the silent tent. Pil’s mind was whirling with so much information, it was hard to process everything; especially because of its nature. Their history was steeped in blood and betrayal, slavery and hatred. Pil looked at Damian, and he understood why sometimes his black eyes looked far away, his expression like stone.

  “But — why can you speak?” asked Pil suddenly breaking the silence. “I thought boys had their mouths sewn shut.”

  Damian shrugged, "I am a servant of the Kings assistants — Basil and Sage, I mean — I have special privilege.”

  “Basil and Sage are assistants to the King — this Kastellion person?”

  Damian nodded coldly. “He has business out here — business with the Exidite…”

  “What business?” asked Pil, shocked. “What are Fairies doing down here, anyway?”

  “Well,” said Damian, smiling slightly. “That’s something you’ll learn, once you do something for me.”

  Pil’s heart rose. This could be his way out. “Kill Basil and Sage?” he asked in a whisper, glancing fearfully at the tent.

  Damian nodded. “And there’s something else. Once it’s done…” he looked away. “Once they’re dead — take me with you — you have to take me with you.”