The Wildest Woods

by S. K Munt

  The others had managed to pick up one more crushing piece of information though- both the king and the duchess had died, along with poor T’are, and I felt myself fall apart when her death, and that of T’are’s was announced. I folded my hands over my knees and sobbed for a few minutes, and for those few minutes- that was all that could be heard. Eventually I started sniffling and they started talking again, but Constance’s loss stayed with me, like an anchor hanging off my heart for the rest of the day, and I knew there was a good chance that I’d never forgive myself for my actions having inadvertently caused T’are’s death either. But I couldn’t turn back the clock on those deaths and because I hadn’t caused them, I couldn’t even allow myself to wallow in guilt so eventually, I pulled myself together and promised that someday, some way, I would find a way to honour them both.

  But for now, I had more important matters to focus on. I tried to pump the others to see if we couldn’t figure out if following Satan’s lead wasn’t going to get a lot of people killed via some sly plot of hers, but to my dismay, none of them seemed to have a clue about Satan’s true agenda. Thanks to Sam’s gift, I could tell that Siria and Gabby were being as genuine as they knew how to be on the subject too, which was a shame because I was still somewhat eager to pick a fight with them. They’d pondered the question a lot (though not half as much in their whole lives as I already had in one day) but they honestly didn’t know anything beyond what Satan had told them: that she wanted control of the earth and the people on it simply because she believed that she would do a better job than God had. Being the loyal followers that they were, they hadn’t thought to question her sincerity and why should they? Satan never concealed her wicked deeds from them, so why would she bother trying to hide a wicked motive?

  That explanation ought to have put my mind at ease because at least she’d told us all the same thing, and yet it seemed too simple- for both Martya and I- who could smell rats easily after living with them in Eden for years. Bastien liked to hope for the best in people to shine through so he wasn’t half as paranoid as we were, and Sam was so jaded that he took it for granted that Satan wanted the earth only to make it something ugly and evil and frightening anyway and wasn’t particularly concerned about it (In fact, he scribbled on his notebook the entire time and rarely looked up anyway) but Siria and Gabby insisted, rather plaintively, that all Satan wanted was our love, and that she planned on earning it by making a few changes to how mankind functioned, via me- a fact she hadn’t bothered hiding.

  I didn’t understand how that was going to work, but in the end it was decided (for me) that the fact that Satan had chosen to mate with a light Nephilim instead of a dark one proved that her heart- or whatever was left of it- was in the right place. I suspected that it wasn’t her heart that was on the right track but her brain, because it made sense to fool people into following her by using a blonde teenager who didn’t want to hurt a fly as a decoy representative of her master plan… but I couldn’t argue with the group because at the end of the day, one fact remained indisputable: I would never brand, enslave or oppress someone without due cause and so I was a better alternative as a leader than the Barachiels by default, no matter what angle it was viewed from. Also, worshipping a God didn’t change how evil or good a person could be, so why should I worry about the consequences of building a dark kingdom on earth, if the people in God’s own kingdom were corrupt anyway? Yes, everyone agreed that Satan was still definitely out to ‘get’ God so my paranoia wasn’t completely unfounded in their eyes, but the consensus seemed to be that she’d get all the revenge that she needed if her wish came true, so why look for a rat in a sewer? As far as evil plots went, ‘World Domination’ definitely ranked among the highest so weren’t we wasting time trying to prove that the devil was a bad person when we already knew that it was true?

  I felt dispirited after leaving that meeting- especially when we walked back out onto the platform and saw that people were madly packing for our departure into the unknown- but Bastien squeezed my shoulder firmly and whispered that in the end, the only actions that I could be held accountable for were my own. Sure, Satan might betray us all by turning around and doing something ugly with the power that I was to amass for her, but that could only be Satan’s fault and never mine, not so long as I continued to do what was right.

  But that’s the thing that’s really bugging you, isn’t it? I asked myself as I shuffled along. You are going to do what’s wrong: two things that are wrong, and until you know what favours she’s going to ask you to do so you’ll be able to gauge how ‘evil’ you’re going to be asked to be, you don’t know that you’re going to be a better leader than the Barachiels, do you?

  There was more to it than that and I knew that I would feel a world of guilt if Satan did something horrific thanks to me despite how much of a part I played in it, but I did have the presence of mind to understand that it truly was out of my control. If what Satan wanted was to end the world or bring Hell to earth or ruin God and heaven, then she would find a way to do it, one way or the other. And if I couldn’t bring myself to do whatever it was she asked me to do, then I’d have no choice but to say no and end up back in Arcadian waters, facing the fate that I’d only narrowly escaped the last time. That would be awful but if it came to that, what choice would I have but to swear myself to god, forgive and love him now that I’d known worse, and pray that he took me up to Heaven once Kohl Barachiel was through with me? It was the cheat’s entry into Heaven, but an exit from Satan’s clutches and so it would have to do.

  ‘I know that you feel like Satan’s pawn, Lark,’ Sam said softly- audibly- bringing my attention to the fact that he’d followed me quietly out of the room and had lingered by the door to scan my thoughts without my knowledge. ‘But the fact of the matter is that she’s asked you to be a queen, not a pawn, and that means that you’ll be able to make more moves than you think- moves that she’ll have no control over once they’re made.’

  I turned around to face him, noting that his eyes got lighter as they got further away from his pupils, like a ripple in dark blue water. ‘But I’m still just a piece to her,’ I pointed out. ‘Doesn’t matter what I do- she can knock the board and every piece on it to the floor at any time, if she doesn’t like the way it’s going.’

  ‘Nah… the board is way too precious to her for that. Irreplaceable, remember?’ He lifted his eyebrows and leaned forward to say: ‘As are you. No matter how much she scares and threatens you Larkin Whittaker never ever forget that fact- she is only as powerful as her most faithful servants are, and you’re the most powerful of all. Get the earth in the palm of your hand, and you’ll soon find that she is in your control too.’

  I snorted. ‘You make it sound so easy…’

  He shrugged and then pulled out a small leather pouch before taking my hand and sliding a bracelet made of tiny amber stones onto my wrist. I lifted my eyebrows in surprise and that was when I saw Martya watching us while she patiently waited for me by the train. Was that a frown I saw on her face then? Why wouldn’t she want me to shield Sam from my thoughts?

  ‘Ever studied the former world leaders?’ Sam asked, pocketing the pouch. ‘They were all morons, and not half as pretty as you when covered in Wildwoods dirt. The only thing limiting you in this scenario is you and your fears so for all our sakes, please try and get over them, okay?’

  I furrowed my brow at him. ‘Was there a compliment buried in there somewhere?’

  ‘Under The Wildwoods dirt thing? Maybe. Anyway, I’ve got to go get some writing done, so if you don’t mind...’ Sam winked at me and then barged his shoulder gently into mine as he passed me by in a brotherly way that would have made me smile, if not for his parting words.

  ‘Write about what?’ I hissed after him. ‘Hey you’re not going to write down that I hit another girl, are you? Or that I thought the ‘H’ word about people? Sam…? Sam!’

  But he waved at me over his shoulder without turning back, leaving me to stew in m
y own internal steam… and to think of how well he and Kohén would get along if they ever met!

  To think of how nice it would be to have a charm that would keep Kohén Barachiel out of my heart the way that the amber bracelet would keep Sam out of my head, because even that one moment’s lapse in my own shield caused a sharp, stabbing pain to puncture it.

  Oh God… he lost his mother… I know his death may not have affected her much, but what is he going through right now?

  ‘Larkin?’ Martya called out when she saw my step falter. ‘What’s wrong?’

  I pressed my hand to my heart and swallowed hard, trying to shake off all thoughts of the misguided prince that I had left in my past, and took a few more stumbling steps towards my uncertain future and the only old friend that I had left, praying that soon enough, I’d find my stride again and that it would lead me as far away from Eden as possible.

  *

  I had known that Bastien had anticipated moving quickly, but it had never occurred to me that we’d be leaving Hope Station that very day. Apparently it hadn’t occurred to anyone else either, yet when my father announced that we’d be leaving there by seven p.m. and walking through the night, no one complained but me.

  But complain I did. I protested that it was too soon, and pointed out that Martya’s group had barely had the chance to recover from their own gruelling walk through The Wildwoods, and that it would take more than a few hours to dismantle the camp, but I was overruled by a sense of urgency that forced Bastien to put the needs of the entire community over the needs of one faction of it. Evidently, one of the witches had foreseen that an extreme cold front was coming that would usher in a premature start to winter- a winter unlike any that I’d ever experienced before. I challenged this theory by pointing out that we’d been almost in the negative temperatures the day before and yet we’d survived, but that was when Bastien reminded me of the fact that not only did I have an internal heat that would keep me alive in conditions that would kill others- but that not even I would survive in negative forty degrees for long.

  That shut me right up. Negative forty? I thought, staring at him in my stupor, and he nodded gravely.

  ‘And it’s worse than it sounds Larkin so please- get your things together quickly, all right? We have a storm to race across the wastelands.’

  I did not know how racing more north of this point was going to do us any good, seeing as how it was common knowledge that it would only get colder as we went further north, but Bastien was a smart man that had experienced things that I had not and so I shut my mouth and gathered up my only possessions- my sword and my jacket, before braiding my hair so that it would stay out of my face. As I did this, I said a silent prayer to whatever God was listening that this wasn’t a prank that Satan was pulling on me, and thanked Maryah for having taught me how to braid, if nothing else, because my hair was getting so long that it was starting to tangle around my elbows.

  Once I was done, I set about asking other people what I could do to help them, and was asked to strap bundles to sleds, roll up bearskins and help pack away the things that were used in Hope Station that we couldn’t take with us: things like plates, cutlery and furniture. They had no intention of ever returning to live there but knew that it would come in handy if they ever needed to return south for some reason, so everything was stowed away carefully but swiftly.

  I was afraid that I was more of a hindrance than I was a help, because I didn’t know where anything went, and lacked the basic know-how to do things that came to them easily, like tying complicated knots in the ropes and rolling bearskins so that they wouldn’t get wet from the snow... but people seemed happy to show me how to do those things and so I watched them as attentively as I’d ever watched my instructors in Eden, cramming my skull full with useful information and hoping I’d start forgetting how to do useless crap in the process, like dancing badly with a fan, and giggling only loudly enough to flatter the joke-teller but never so much as to be considered forward to them. My skin crawled as I remembered Kelia practicing her laugh on Kohl, and I tied the next few knots a little tighter than was probably necessary, cursing Maryah and all that she stood for as fervently as I’d thanked her not long before.

  Brainwashed… I thought, watching Martya lope across the room in a way that was unladylike but athletic and purposeful and nothing like the stilted teeter that she’d been trying to perfect when we’d been in the harem’s dormer together. We were utterly brainwashed by those people! And Kelia… God, what a wasted life, in every sense there is! I don’t know if I should continue to regret her death, or thank the fates for having scooped her out of that cesspool of a palace prematurely. Where is Emmerly right now? Whose lap is she on, and how miserable is she? Has Kohén asked her back? Has she accepted? How bad are his head-injuries? Oh God Larkin no! DON’T THINK ABOUT HIM!

  I hurried quickly to finish belting down someone’s sleigh (there were at least eight of them that had been packed with what food supplies and warm clothes we had left) and though I did manage to get Kohén’s name out of my mind, I struggled to repress my concerns regarding Emmerly and the others, so I started picturing them all being happy and safe and out of Eden instead, hoping that my positive thoughts would reach them and affect them somehow. I could and should forget about Kohén and what he had meant to me as soon as possible, but I had to be careful not to let the other girls that I had grown up with leave my heart or my mind just because two of us had gotten free. I didn’t know how I was going to go about getting the Companion Caste dismantled, but if I had any purpose in this life, then surely seeing that through ought to be as much mine as it was Bastien’s, right? If not more?

  Let’s hope that that won’t be your problem anyway, I thought as I watched Martya show Sam how to layer on his clothes so that he would have more insulation and less to carry. Surely after all that has happened, they’ll all be considering settling down quick smart, right? To save their reputations if nothing else?

  The last thing everybody did before we left was put on their animal furs over the top of the shapeless shifts that all of the men and women were wearing, and although I was offered a bearskin cape that was beautiful due to how pure white the fur pelt was, I draped it over my arm instead of putting it on, knowing that I’d have to be near death to consider wrapping myself up in a dead animal’s skin. I still did not judge The Sequestered for doing what they had to do to survive, but many of them still had the heads attached to the cloaks that they were wearing, so the shadows that they were casting on the tunnel walls looked like the silhouette from some nightmare that I did not wish to blend into yet. The woman that had given me the pelt gave me an inquisitive look when I shrugged into my jacket but left the coat off, so to save her any offence, I explained that I ran a little warmer than the others, and would probably give myself a sweat that would turn into a chill if I put the pelt on too soon, and she smiled in understanding and to my mortification, actually bowed to me before she hurried back to her young son. I watched her go, and wasn’t jolted from my astonishment until Martya came up wearing a fox-fur jacket and asked me if I was ready to go. I wasn’t ready, not by a long shot, but I’d never been ready for anything a day in my life and I didn’t see why that should change now, so I nodded while the fires were snuffed out around me, wondering if there was going to be a light at the end of this tunnel for The Sequestered, or more frigid darkness.

  *

  I hadn’t understood why we were starting such a potentially perilous hike at night, but as we walked, Martya took it upon herself to tell me everything she knew about how The Sequestered operated, so although our trip was a dark one, it was illuminating all the same.

  For starters, there wasn’t anything scarier in this world then being caught out in the wastelands on the other side of the avalanche tunnel at night, according to Martya, so we were going through the tunnel in the darkness so we’d reach the wastelands in time for sunrise. She explained that it was always sort of dark in that region no matter when y
ou crossed it, but the dead of night was above and beyond the most dangerous time to be out because that was when the apex predators that dominated the region came out to hunt, even the salt and pepper bears, whose coats were slowly darkening every year in response to their new, nocturnal eating habits. It was a twist in evolution, to be sure, and one that had developed as a result of the land predators breeding too quickly in an area that was almost impossible for them to escape from, and one that was now practically devoid of smaller animals for the larger ones to prey on. Martya said that when she’d first started coming to Hope Station two years before, there had been plenty of squirrels and rabbits getting about in The Wildwoods and fewer foxes and wolves- but in the two years since, small animal sightings had become rare, and bear sightings had almost doubled. She didn’t know why they were suddenly breeding so fast for certain, but she had deduced that it probably had something to do with the fact that the north was starting to thaw out a little more every spring after centuries of a prolonged ice age. Longer, somewhat warmer springs meant more breeding for everyone, and more breeding for everyone meant more meals for the bigger ones and less places to hide for the little ones and the stupid humans that decided to traipse through their territories.

  Martya suspected that the ecosystem would start to balance itself out a little more as the springs increased in length, giving the tinier animals a chance to catch up as far as population went, but in order for that to happen there was going to have to be a turf war first, because the region simply could not provide enough sustenance for so many ravenous creatures as it was. It would have been different, she said, if the bears had been the brown bear variety or even grizzlies, but the salt and pepper bears were a hybrid of brown bears and polar bears, and they’d taken after their polar bear counterparts in the sense that they did not go into hibernation during the coldest months, so the rest of the wildlife were never spared from their appetites. To complicate matters, wolves didn’t hibernate either, so the two wild species had gobbled up most of the moose that they’d preyed on centuries ago and had started fighting the foxes for what was left. Naturally, they’d both gone for the foxes at first, but foxes were foxes and so they’d evolved accordingly, learning to band together just as wolves had started breaking away from their packs, protecting one another in the face of certain extinction after years of going their own ways. Yes, it certainly sounded like the fur-covered inhabitants of the north had thrown out the laws of nature rulebook just as humanity had tossed aside the bible and now they were disorientated, desperate and starving and why? Because like humans, they couldn’t seem to stop themselves from mating, even though their world was already collapsing around them due to the strain of overpopulation.