28. Chapter Twenty-Eight
Charmaine
They left Sorrow’s Well behind them. Charmaine had been relieved to learn they wouldn’t leave the way they came.
She didn’t want to think of how they’d climb out of the well.
Evera took them to a back entrance, where they ascended stone steps into a wide cave that opened into the dying forest. Over the decayed trees, a mountain sat isolated in the sky.
Evera pointed at the mountain. “That is where we are headed. It should be about a day’s walk. The land is weakened, but not safe. Watch where you are going. Call out anything strange.”
In Faerie, strange could mean a great deal of things.
She found most of their surroundings strange, but Evera wandered ahead and she followed.
She would not get lost in a place such as this.
Bloodbane withered under Alvina’s foolish rule.
The trees oozed rot rather than sap. Their limbs broke free, scattered about the land reeking of death.
Bugs infested the fallen leaves and creatures that had unfortunately eaten the rot, leaving them as carcasses scattered through the woods.
She shifted between watching her feet and Evera’s back.
She had a tension about her that worried Charmaine.
Since they came to Bloodbane, Evera gnawed her lip raw.
She considered pointing that out, then thought better of it.
Evera didn’t need and likely didn’t want Charmaine worrying over her, though the fact remained that she did.
She wasn’t sure when it happened, but her eyes strayed to Evera, admiring her beauty, wanting to talk to her, wondering what she was thinking and what would happen when this was over.
Evera caught her attention. “You look as if you have something to say. Spit it out.”
Charmaine hummed. Behind her, Henry and Arden flipped through a notebook. Arden became a walking fae encyclopedia for the mage, informing him which parts of his notes were wrong or right. At the back, William and Nicholas walked hand in hand. Her chest warmed at the sight.
“Well,” Evera encouraged.
“I was wondering about Bloodbane,” she said, shuffling closer to Evera’s side. “You mentioned you want to rule over it, so seeing it like this must pain you.”
Evera didn’t hide her irritation. She looked upon the tree with unbridled rage, directed entirely at her mother. “Bloodbane could be rid of her for what she has done. I would be happy at the prospect, but Bloodbane shouldn’t have to suffer like this.”
She ran a hand along the bark of a tree they passed, flinching as if it brought her pain.
“Once we kill that bastard, I will challenge her to rule. Sorrows Well will be angry after such a transgression. She will remain weakened. When I win, nothing like this will ever happen again,” she spoke more to the forest than Charmaine and a warm breeze passed as if to reply.
“What will happen afterward? If you’re a lord of these lands, then what?”
“I take care of it and throw as many revels as I want,” she replied proudly. “I expect you to attend one. There will be no trouble for you.”
Her cheeks warmed at the thought. “I doubt your people would want me there.”
“I would want you there. That’s all that matters.”
Her heart skipped.
“And I expect a dress. You must show me your skills. Surely you can work with materials from Faerie. You will be paid handsomely,” Evera explained.
“With real money? Not golden nuggets that turn into dirt?”
Pouting, Evera replied, “My plan has been foiled.”
Her smile grew so large it almost hurt. Then Evera’s expression went dark.
There hadn’t been a ring of mushrooms until there was, then Charmaine stood alone.
She and the forest where the trunks stood two bodies thick and spaced apart enough for one to force their way through.
The world changed in a blink and her companions vanished.
Their names caught on her lips, for she did not know if calling for them would lead to help or horror.
The trees formed a perfect circle around her, and in the grass, mushrooms. Perfectly normal mushrooms with their puffy brown tops and pale white stalks.
If she weren’t in Faerie, she would have plucked them for dinner.
Even her stomach growled at the thought of a good stew, fooled by the earthy smell, but her mind knew better. She had passed through a fairy ring.
Treacherous, nasty things, she saw them during the war.
They weren’t used often as fae had to bury dried mushrooms a day before.
Within their circle, there was pain and destruction.
Debraks were torn to shreds passing through or ratwings disappeared entirely.
She never asked what happened, obviously wasn’t interested in speaking to fae about their tortuous charms, but she regretted that now.
How could she escape and what did this ring hold?
Then came a popping sound like pressure released from a wine bottle and Evera stood in front of her, scowling.
“Did I not say to watch your step?” Evera circled her to inspect the forest and, surprisingly, her. Evera tugged at her hand and pushed her head from side to side, eventually deeming her fit and safe. Her chest warmed at the notion and she swiftly stifled the sensation.
“Did you not listen to your own advice?” she replied. “Now you are here with me.”
“Because you won’t escape without me. You are welcome in advance.” Evera held up a hand. She peered through the trees at their backs.
Charmaine saw nothing, heard nothing, not even a summer breeze.
The tree tops allowed no light. Shadows engulfed the rays, daring to pass the circle.
Nothing moved within, nothing that her sight could track.
Evera moved like a beast. She swept around the mushroom rings, keeping herself in the light, but in those shadows, she watched whatever was within.
“What’s out there?” Charmaine felt the call for fire, the frantic thoughts whispering to prepare for an assault.
She returned to the battlefield, windswept and frightened.
Fire could warm them, keep them safe, or set their world ablaze.
Surrounded by perfect kindling, she could burn both of them to ash.
“Our captor,” Evera replied. “One doesn’t set a trap if they don’t want to play.”
“I wouldn’t call this playing.”
“Because you are dull.”
A twig snapped. She swerved. Evera didn’t. A distraction, then, one that she fell for and perhaps would have met her demise without Evera’s keen senses.
“How do we escape?” she asked.
“Iron,” Evera grumbled. “Your dagger or a gun will suffice.”
William ensured they had iron on them. Fae were weakest to the metal. She didn’t have a gun like William did. She had her fire, or rather, she was supposed to. She gripped the dagger once tethered to her waist.
“You must be the one to touch the fae who has trapped us here. As you must guess, I am not fond of iron either. Once you do, the ring will break and we will be free.” Evera faced a slit between the trees, her body loose and under her perfect control. “Prepare yourself.”
A limb speared from the trees. Evera pushed her out of the way. The limb had one too many fingers, each slender and clawed sharper than blades. She couldn’t make out more. The limb retracted and gurgled laughter surrounded them.
“A hag.” Evera spat. “Vile creatures, ugly things, too.”
And murderous, it seemed, as the world went silent. Then two clawed hands pierced the shadows. She ducked. The arms were long and stretched. The skin had a green tint, slightly transparent to reveal the thin bones and veins within. Warts and boils coated the arms.
Evera jumped. The white light from the siren attack appeared in her outstretched palms. Whips of light lashed out. One relieved the hag of one of her arms. The remaining limbs retracted swiftly.
“I think you are doing fine without my iron,” said Charmaine. They stood back to back, peering into the forest where the hag circled.
“That did nothing to her. Based on this ring, she’s strong enough to regrow that, and her other nine,” Evera explained.
“Ten arms.” Which meant ten could appear at any moment. “All I must do is touch her with the dagger? I don’t have to land a killing blow?”
“No, the iron will ruin the concentration—” Ten arms lept from the trees.
She aimed, but they were too quick. The arms were like strings, swirling and curling.
She swung one way, and they yanked the other.
Claws snaked around her ankles. A hand caught Evera by the throat.
Then they were dragged. Charmaine cursed as another arm held her wrist hard enough to bruise.
She left the circle behind, yanked through the thin trees into a black night.
Evera disappeared, her laughter becoming one with the hags.
She couldn’t imagine how one didn’t feel fear when death looked them in the eye.
The hands pinned her to the ground, rougher now, real.
They had weight to them, the skin no longer transparent as the trees groaned and two yellow lights appeared.
Those lights became brighter, bigger, then they sat upon a head three times too big for such a skeletal body.
The hag had a crooked hawkish nose, her lips dark green and full of pustules.
Her eyes bulged, yellow as a cat’s and teeth were pointed and red.
Arms flailed from her side and her back, stretching into eternal shadows.
“Fire!” Evera’s voice echoed. If she had more to say, the hag’s laughter covered it. She sounded like one who hadn’t known water, only thirst. When she moved, the trees creaked. A clawed hand reached for Charmaine’s throat.
She couldn’t use the dagger, not with the hag on the verge of snapping her wrist. All she had was fire, though here, surrounded by perfect kindling, she may send more than the hag up in smoke.
But the hag was close, now standing over her with a wicked leer.
Her teeth gnashed, sounding like the crunching of bones.