Chapter 8 #2
No such luck. To do so, I’d have to become Elf. I suppose that’s another thing to look forward to; going back to Corrik means becoming an Elf. I try to come up with all the good things so I can stop thinking of how I won’t see Bayaden when I wake up in the morning.
“Yes, sir,” I say.
“That’s Uncle Taj to you. You will always be family.”
He’s an odd sort of Elf. His shoulders are as broad as Bayaden’s and when he speaks, his words are careful and heavy with purpose.
His long white hair is bundled into thick sections, making it look like yarn, and he carries a presence that’s quiet, but certain.
“You don’t live with the family?” I ask.
“No.”
He’s not very talkative. “Why not?”
“I should think that’s self-explanatory,” he says, his accent curling around the Elvish words.
“The king?”
“Yes.”
I roll my eyes at his back. He’s as insufferable as Bayaden, but the resemblance lifts me. Takes the edge off the pain of leaving him. We travel over hard roads and even some treacherous passes, but we don’t see anyone, not a soul. That’s not right.
When darkness falls, Uncle Taj dismounts. “We will rest here for the night and take turns on watch. Tomorrow will be the hardest part and then your husband isn’t far. He will take you the rest of the way.”
I don’t know what to do with all that. Not only is Corrik close, but he’s waiting for me. How long has he been out searching for me? How long has he been away from home?
My gut churns.
Corrik’s going to be furious, he likely wants to burn Aldrien to the ground by this point; he just needs to get me out of it first. Which brings another question to the table, why hasn’t anyone shown up on Aldrien’s doorstep?
It’s an uneventful night and thankfully warm.
When I sleep, I put on a warmer shirt and use my pack as a pillow.
Uncle Taj has things for us to eat—dried fruits, meats and cheese and plenty of water.
He surprises me with campfire chat, maybe because I’m heartbroken.
“You know Tristan when Bayaden was a little boy, he was a happy little spirit; I never had to spank him as often as his older brother. But when their mother was killed, it changed him. He stopped smiling. He threw himself into his duties. As much as Andothair is a spoiled brat, he sees people, I think his intent—if by poor design—was genuine with his brother. He knew you would heal him, and you have.”
My body heats head to toe, thinking I could heal anyone let alone Bayaden. My head turns to look in all other directions, anywhere but his eyes. “He had an effect on me too.”
“Why does it embarrass you so, to think you could heal someone?”
“It’s not a crown I feel I wear,” I say.
“You are humble is all. That’s a good thing.” He nods. “But you have. He hasn’t smiled like that in a long time.”
“Then why are we doing this? Take me back.” The fire is warm on my skin, but inside my body is cold.
“Aside from that my brother will kill you, it’s not right. You were taken, Tristan.”
“I was taken anyway. With Corrik it was only mildly more consensual.”
“Still angry about that are you? Take my opinion for what it’s worth—very little these days—but while it’s true the children of royals are pawns, it doesn’t change that you belong in Mortouge, or your responsibility to the contract, unless …
are you willing to endure the consequences for breaking it? ”
I’m not. I stare into the fire, feeling like a coward for not being able to let go of my parents’ expectations of me. “How will I face him, Uncle Taj?”
He smiles and pokes the fire. “Like any other battle, I wager. But that is a problem for another day, we must talk about tomorrow.”
“I imagine there’s something dangerous?”
“Yes. There’s little I’m allowed to tell you. I swore an oath through magic. You’ll need to follow my lead and have your sword out.”
I nod. “I can do that.”
“Bayaden wanted to come, but he thought it for the best if when you made it to the other side, he wasn’t there.”
“He was right.” Corrik will probably want his head.
“I will take first watch. I chose this place because we are safe enough here, but once we pass through, we’ll keep going until we get you to safety.”
Ibegin the day cutting my hair. It grew back in the night and while I doubt we’ll see anyone where we are, I have nothing to tie it back with and I’m no longer used to keeping it out of my face while I ride. For now, it’s easier to cut away—it will grow back again by tonight anyway.
Our surroundings are eerie, the sky a purple haze, as we move into the dense forest. Nothing in here is alive, but it’s not dead either.
We maneuver our horses carefully through the brush, the brambles, and branches thick with thorny limbs.
I get scratched to shit, I would pull my sword to cut my way out, but Uncle Taj is trying to be quiet; I follow his lead best I can.
I know he can’t tell me what this place is, so I don’t bother to ask.
Instead, I observe and keep a watchful eye.
The necrosis isn’t the only thing disturbing about this place; it’s the lack of sound and stale air that unsettles me.
We should be able to hear birds flitting by, or the creak of trees as tiny creatures run up them, but it’s just nothingness.
The breeze should bring a myriad of forest scents, but it doesn’t.
There’s not even a breeze.
Everything’s still, like it doesn’t know where to go even though it doesn’t want to stay, locked within this moment forever.
Whatever danger does inhabit this place is lying dormant for now as we make our way through at a decent pace.
After two hours of riding, we approach a large stone megalith.
It surrounds a small body of water, tall stones lined up around the edge with thick ones laid horizontally on top of the vertical ones.
A pathway, also made of stone, extends across the water.
“Are those made from sarsen stone?” I recognize them from a book I read back home in Markaytia.
He grunts his acknowledgment.
He stands at the edge of the water in the middle of two of the larger stones and begins to circle his hands in various patterns.
I’ve watched Bayaden do magic in a multitude of ways over this past year.
Elves draw magic from the Earth using their consciousness.
He does that now, and a pattern appears drawn in light forms. When he throws it, light explodes toward each stone and there is a fissure of illumination, glistening in mid-air.
“We’re going to walk through this with our horses.
Once we get to the other side, we’ll have to run full speed until we get to the forest’s edge. ”
“Is this what anyone has to do anytime they leave Aldrien?” I ask because it seems elaborate.
“Depends on where they want to go. Not every place has Elemental Death Wolves at the end of it. Unfortunately, Corrik waits outside the other side of this particular barrier.”
“Does he know we’re coming?”
“Yes. I spoke with him. I have been negotiating.”
“What sort of negotiations?”
“I asked him to stop killing our warriors, and in exchange I would bring you to him.”
“Is he aware of the Elemental Death Wolves?”
I already know the answer from the hesitation I see in his eyes.
“No, but there was no other place to meet him without him figuring out how we keep Aldrien hidden. As far as he knows, we’ve brought the veil around the place, which will bring him more questions than answers, but that works.
There is only a problem once we’re inside since they don’t have the required magic to pass through the veil.
We just need to get to the other side where they cannot follow us. They cannot leave the veil.”
If only Corrik knew I was about to run from Elemental Death Wolves. “Is that what this place is? A veil?”
He nods. “The world and the underworld are closest at this point. We’re not quite in the land of the living, but we’re also not in the land of the dead.
That’s fucking creepy. “How do you get back?”
“Same way. The door will be open for me until I close it. You’ll forget what you saw.”
“But I won’t forget … I won’t forget—" I panic.
“You won’t forget your time in Aldrien. That would take an amount of magic not worth the price.” He winks at me and I think he has more to do with that than anything else.
We approach the gleaming door, and he steps through it.
I follow after him. Once I’m through, I hit the ground running as he does.
Being an Elf, I know he can ride much faster than I can, even when I’m at full speed, but he stays back so I don’t lose him.
The landscape is more of the same as what we left—a pile of not-dead things wound together, making up an eerie forest. It was hard enough traversing it at a slow pace.
At this speed, it’s more of a challenge for me, but I do my best to keep up.
Looking everywhere all at once, I skip and jump my horse to the tune of Uncle Taj’s lead, clearing bramble, dodging rocks.
We luck out, and there are no Elemental Death Wolves, but with the way Uncle Taj is still charging through, I suspect we’re not in the clear. For now, the concern of falling off my horse is more immediate, and I’m glad we don’t have wolves to worry about too.
My heart races and my muscles strain. I’ve taken on some challenging terrains as a rider, but nothing like this.
Without the added strength and magical benefits of Elves, I begin to tire too soon.
It’s when I think I can’t hold on any longer, I feel them surround us.
Running as if on tracks of air, the white creatures appear.
They’re as beautiful as they are deadly.
Gorgeous white fur, long and curling at the ends, whipping against the wind created by their speed alone since there is nothing but flat air in this place.