11. Diddled
Diddled
The sun had already begun its descent on the following day when another decimated, burned village came into their sights.
Cypress had smelled the burning throughout the day, but still, when the village appeared through the trees, she felt as if she were walking through a dream.
Unfortunately, the road did not go around the village, so they had to press through.
Every single cottage, storefront, and barn was torched. Raized to the ground. Even worse, though, were the bodies lining the streets.
While she was no stranger to the horrors of death, the display in front of her was… abhorrent.
“What happened to this place?” Cypress whispered, holding a cloth over her nose and mouth. Ash still fell from the skies, crackling embers of wood burning gently, and it floated on an errant wind.
Torren and Cypress slowly guided their horses through the village, voices lowered to a whisper.
“Crown Raiders, if I had to guess,” Torren replied as he ducked under a broken sign.
“Crown raiders?” Cypress asked, looking away from another pile of bodies.
“None of my people are going to attack a village and raze it to the ground like this.”
“So it has to automatically be the Crown? What about the Hunt that you were just telling me about? The thing you couldn’t even name?” Cypress shook her head. “Your bias is showing, thief.”
Torren scoffed. “Remember, Lass, I can’t lie to you. You asked, and I answered.”
“Fine,” Cypress growled. “Why do you think they are Crown Raiders?”
“Because your King harbors hate for my kind, for the Fair Folk.”
“You say that like you know it to be a fact.”
“Because it is. The crown has been quietly killing Fair Folk for decades.”
Cypress shook her head. “Impossible. I would have known if bands of raiders were sanctioned by the crown.”
“Really? Why would they tell you? Your purpose was to guard the Prince. Caelith’s precious heir. What reason would he have to share his plans with you?”
Grumbling to herself, Cypress had to admit Torren had a point. A very astute one.
“I’m not saying you are right, but if you are, and this… slaughter was sanctioned by King Caelith, why now? Why is he burning these towns down now? Why not destroy them before Cade was even born?”
Torren shook his head. “Villages like these have been burned to the ground many times, Lass. But the people return, time and time again.”
“So where are they now?”
“Likely hiding within the trees and tall grasses, waiting until we leave and the piles stop smoldering to care for their dead and rebuild.”
“Any why wouldn’t it be the thing you couldn’t name, or any other beast of the hunt?”
“Do you think the things that go bump in the night and live in the darkest trenches of the Wylds leave bodies in disgraced, neatly stacked in piles to be discovered?”
Cypress ran her teeth along her bottom lip. “No.”
“Then the logical conclusion is…” Torren trailed off, waiting for Cypress’s answer.
Rather than admit that he could be right, Cypress turned to survey the ruined village once more. The idea that people she knew, likely saw daily, participating in these raids was preposterous. She knew the Guard and nearly every soul within the Keep.
If something like this were sanctioned by the crown, they would be reporting back to the Keep frequently.
The wind screamed through the trees, ripping strands of her hair free from its braid. The air smelled clean, not brimming with hopelessness and despair, but the fresh breeze still carried a sense of foreboding.
“We should leave this place,” she muttered, shifting in her saddle, while her gaze darted across the horizon, the coming shadow of night.
“Aye, we should, Lass, but I thought you didn’t believe in superstitions.”
“I don’t need to believe in superstitions to know when it is unwise to linger in a place like this.”
Torren nodded. “Fair enough. Fair enough, Lass,”
Cypress urged her horse forward, and down the twisting road. She and Torren left the last ruined house behind them, the cover of night chasing their heels.
Beyond the village, the trees seemed to swallow the road. Endless verdant branches bowed over their heads. The canopy of leaves was like a moving puzzle, each limb of the tree swaying with the wind. The leaves danced together, but never met.
And the silence within the trees was almost as bad as the eerie silence within the village.
It was as if all life within the forest had paused. The birds stopped singing, the insects stopped buzzing. Utter and complete silence was met with the thunder of horse hooves eating at the distance between Cypress and Torren’s safe haven for the night.
Either the creatures of the forest were wary of Cypress and Torren wandering into their midst, or… something else lurked within the dark trees. Something that made the birds be silent.
“We need to make camp, full dark will be upon us soon,” Torren said, storm gray eyes sweeping back and forth on the edge of the trees.
Cypress nodded her agreement.
“I don’t believe we are alone,” she said in a hush, keeping pace with his horse as she likewise kept a leery eye on the treeline.
“We haven’t been alone in quite some time, Lass,” Torren remarked, then directed his horse to the right.
“That’s not comforting,” Cypress said, following his path.
“It wasn’t supposed to be,” Torren replied without glancing back at her, head still swiveling back and forth as he led them further into the trees.
“So how do you keep finding these Faerie rings?” She asked while ducking under a low-hanging branch laden with palm-sized nuts hidden under a woody shell. Cypress plucked a few from another branch as she passed. The nuts would be good as a snack once cracked and sectioned into bite-sized pieces.
Torren chuckled. “The rings tend to find me more than I find them.”
She scoffed, rolling her eyes at his back. “You realize that makes no sense?”
“Sure it does, Lass.”
Rather than respond, as Cypress had discovered, Torren and she could bicker and argue back and forth about practically nothing for hours on end, she stayed quiet.
Just as she was about to mention that a particular set of trees looked suspiciously ring-shaped, Torren turned in the opposite direction, and a step later, the thick trees in a perfect circle enveloped Cypress and her horse.
Torren was already walking around the perimeter of the circle, murmuring in a language Cypress couldn’t place, when she dismounted her horse.
“What was following us?”
“Don’t think for a moment that just because we’re within this ring that it’s not still out there, Lass.”
“Okay, what is tracking us then, oh wise one?”
Torren glared at her. “Don’t get cross with me, Lass.”
Cypress threw one of the large nuts at his head.
“Aye, watch it,” Torren said as he ducked out of the way. He caught the offending nut in his hand on its descent, though.
“Answer the question.”
“It’s a Durdiddle.”
Cypress blinked, then blinked again. “It’s a what?”
“A Durdiddle. They are creatures of darkness. Deadly to unsuspecting travelers all across the Wylds.”
She couldn’t help it. A loud crack of laughter burst from her lungs, sending her bent over her knees, trying to catch her breath.
“What are ye laughing about, Lass?”
“You’re telling me, the best name conceived for a so-called deadly creature of darkness was Durdiddle?” She wheezed, laughter still threatening to split her apart.
Torren’s face contorted with the effort it took him to restrain himself, until finally laughter burst free, his throat working with the motion as he clutched his middle.
It was several minutes before the pair could control the laughter and absurd humor that echoed through the Faerie ring. When Cypress was able to, she asked, “So what does this thing do? Diddle you to death?”
Again, Torren’s face contorted with effort. “I don’t think I’d mind being diddled to death,” He muttered, hand pressed to his chin.
“Is that how I will hear your death told, Torren?” Cypress asked, then adopted the deeper tone of voice she used as Captain Cy. “Here ye, here ye, Torren of the Fair Folk dead, diddled to death at the edge of the Wylds!”
Cypress was still laughing when Torren said, “Only if it’s by your hand, Captain Cy.”