Chapter 3
3
I stood at the edge of the crowd that night, hood pulled over my head. It was full dark, and the air had grown so cold my bones ached. The scent of snow was on the wind, and the bog paths would be even more treacherous once ice settled atop the mud.
The entire village and all our visitors stood in neat rows facing the wetlands, lit torches in their upheld hands. This section of the bog wasn’t close to my hut, but I knew it anyway. I’d watched other girls go to their fate here and had tried many routes as a child, wondering which one led to the faeries.
None of them had.
Anya and the other three sacrifices stood at the edge, clad in matching diaphanous white dresses. If they didn’t drown, they would likely freeze to death. Fiona wept silently, but Nora and Bertha’s faces were alight with excitement. Anya just stared into the distance, expression calm as her thoughts traveled paths I could only guess at.
I’d tried to see her between the selection ceremony and tonight’s sacrifice, but she’d been sequestered in the temple and the acolytes hadn’t let me in. I’d returned home to eat and grab my trusty walking stick, which I could use to test the ground once we reached uncertain territory.
I may have never found a route to Mistei before, but there had to be one or else the legends wouldn’t exist at all. So I would take the group as far as I could on the paths I knew, and then we would figure it out together, no matter how long it took.
Or we’ll die together , my mind whispered.
I thought of a crooked flagstone etched with my mother’s name and the leaking hut where I spent my lonely days. If I had no one to share this life with, what was the point? And Anya was one of the best people in the world. Better to drown trying to save her than live knowing I could have helped and chose not to.
Elder Holman was speaking, but I didn’t pay attention, too busy tracing and retracing the map in my mind. I’d heard the same speech before, anyway. These women were so lucky to be favored by the Fae. So gracious to give themselves willingly for the good of Enterra. The heathens in the southern cities would never know what a debt of gratitude they owed the women of the north, for only through rituals like this did we ensure the Fae’s benevolence towards our country.
My pulse thumped in my throat and wrists, and I felt sick with anticipation and fear. The will-o’-the-wisps drifting in the distance seemed to beckon. Their movements had always appeared aimless before—was there a chance they would grow more purposeful tonight?
Bells tolled in the distant village, and the Elder raised his hands. “Live well, my children.”
The crowd cheered.
Then Anya and the rest were being ushered forward by men holding torches. Fire licked towards Fiona’s sleeve when she hesitated, and she yelped and scurried forward.
Those torches would travel up and down the border of the bog all night. This was the other aspect of the ritual few people knew about, since few people wandered in the foggy dark the way I had. As a child I hadn’t understood why men guarded the shore, but six years ago I’d seen them herd a crying woman back into the marsh and the reason had come clear. The faith couldn’t survive being proven wrong—so the Elder and his acolytes needed to ensure no one turned back.
The four women stepped hesitantly into the bog. My muscles tensed as I fought the urge to immediately follow, but they would be safe for a while. People had been wishing on coppers for generations, and these paths were well-known. Once they got into the true dark, though…
The white-gowned silhouettes grew ghostly as they moved farther away. I pushed down my fear, my focus narrowing to one thought: Protect Anya.
Fiddle music started up, and people began to dance around bonfires lining the shore. I waited until the Elder had turned to speak with one of the faithful. Then I pushed through the crowd and started running.
There were yelps of alarm as hands grabbed at my cloak, but I ripped away. Soon my boots squelched over muddy moss, and after that I was too fast and sure-footed on the narrow trail for anyone to catch up. Not that they tried; it was a sacred night, and most people were hesitant to transgress on a ritual. The Elder would no doubt turn my defiance of the rules into a sermon, probably one in which he invented all manner of nasty ends for me, but who cared? We would either reach Mistei, find a new route out of the bog and settle elsewhere with the money from the dagger’s sale…or die together.
The path was familiar beneath my feet and the reflected glow of torchlight lit the way, though the light was ember-dim by the time I caught up to the white-garbed figures.
“Kenna!” Anya gasped. She stared at me like she couldn’t believe I was real, then lunged forward and hugged me. “What are you doing here?”
“Helping you find a way across.” I looked at the other women; they were all shivering and seemed much less certain away from the light and warmth of the gathering. “None of you know these paths. I do, at least to a point. And I have this to test the ground.” I raised the walking stick.
“The faeries are going to guide us,” Nora said, looking at me judgmentally.
“They’re welcome to.” I eyed the drifting golden orbs in the distance. “But if they don’t…”
“They will,” Nora said firmly. “You should go back. It isn’t right for you to be here.”
Anya just looked at me. In the darkness, her shadowed eye sockets seemed eerily hollow.
“I’m coming with you,” was all I said.
There was another grumble from Nora, but the others seemed relieved. Anya gripped my hand hard. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said quietly. “I still don’t know how to feel about everything, but it’ll be easier with you by my side.”
I hugged her again. “I would never leave you. And don’t think you can leave me, either.”
She laughed, a barely-there chuckle. “Kenna the Fierce,” she said, echoing the long-ago warrior’s name she’d given me when we were just children at play. “Let’s find Mistei together.”
The moon was our only companion as we slipped deeper into the bog. The fiddle music receded, echoed by distant laughter. The villagers would celebrate until midnight, feasting and dancing in honor of the solstice.
Nora tried to lead the way at first, but when her foot slipped off a narrow tussock of grass into a pool, she decided letting the person with the walking stick go first might be best after all. Soon the girls were following me like ducklings. Mist swirled around our ankles, and the air was cold and clammy. Someone started crying softly—probably Fiona again—but I didn’t look back. All I knew was that Anya was directly behind me, and I would do anything to get us out alive.
I gripped Anya’s hand while I led the women along a path I had memorized. I’d chosen this one because it was the most direct route towards the middle of the bog—that seemed a more likely choice than the routes that meandered aimlessly closer to shore. It was comforting to walk hand in hand, but eventually the path grew too narrow and I had to release her. “Careful,” I warned. “It’s only a few feet wide here. Step exactly where I step.”
The moon was full enough that I could make out familiar details. A rotting log. A thick tussock of grass. An intersection where the path split in two.
I hesitated, tapping my walking stick against the spongy ground. I hadn’t needed it yet, since these paths were familiar, but we were reaching the limits of my knowledge.
“What’s wrong?” Anya asked.
“I don’t know which way to pick,” I admitted. “I’ve never found a way back to land besides the path we just walked out on.”
“Maybe we can stay here,” Fiona said, wiping tears from beneath her bruised eye. “We can sneak back after the celebration ends.”
“We can’t go back,” Nora said, looking scandalized. “The faeries chose us.”
Bertha bit her lip; the emaciated girl looked doubtful for the first time as she stared at the drifting lights. Were they moving purposefully towards us? It was hard to tell through the thickening mist. Anya, too, seemed uneasy.
“We can’t go back tonight, anyway,” I told Fiona. “There will be guards on watch even after the celebration ends.” I’d first seen them when I’d been a child too full of excitement to sleep after the revelry—I’d returned to the bog to see the faeries, but instead I’d seen the Elder and his acolytes conferring by moonlight. “And do you really think they’d let us go back to Tumbledown? The Elder wouldn’t know how to explain that.” I shook my head. “If we can’t make it to Mistei, we’ll have to find a route that comes out far away from town.”
Nora narrowed her eyes at me. “We’ll make it to Mistei,” she said. Then she reached for Bertha’s hand, squeezing it. “We can’t lose faith now.”
“Let’s follow the lights, then,” Anya said. “As best we can, anyway.”
I’d never been so close to the faerie lights before. They floated in the air around waist height, looking almost like dandelion fluff. One of the will-o’-the-wisps in front of us drifted to the left, then another.
It was better than nothing. “The left path.”
The trail forked again and again. Each time I selected the path closest to the lights. They floated within thirty feet of us now, hovering as if watching.
At last we reached the limits of my familiarity with the routes through the bog. I stopped to consider our options, stroking the outline of the dagger at my thigh for comfort.
“Ouch!” The sharp blade had practically leapt to my skin, slicing through layers of bandage and the fabric of my trousers with ease.
“What is it?” Anya gripped my arm.
“Nothing. Don’t worry.” I could just see the dark stain of blood on my finger.
The ground below me glowed with a line of blue-white light.
I blinked, uncertain what I was seeing. It looked like the slimy trail a snail would leave, but it shone faintly in the moonlight. The line stretched back along the route we’d taken.
I looked ahead, and my heart pounded. The glowing thread wound forward, disappearing into the distance. It was a path, and somehow the dagger had helped me see it. Was Mistei on the other side of that silvery line, waiting for us?
I forged ahead, but the light began to fade. I gripped the dagger again, this time making sure to only touch the hilt through my trousers. The path shone bright as starlight.
A Fae path. A Fae knife. Fae magic.
I turned so my cloak would conceal my actions from the other girls, then loosened my belt so I could reach the dagger strapped to my thigh.
“What are you doing?” Anya asked.
The dagger slipped into my hand like an old friend. I could have sworn the hilt vibrated, a soft greeting like the purr of a cat. I fixed myself up again, then turned to show her the dagger. “It’s a knife I found today. I was going to sell it, but I didn’t get a chance.”
She gaped at the wicked blade in my hand. The scrollwork on the hilt looked otherworldly in the moonlight, and the dark red stone glowed faintly. “That’s what you meant earlier,” she said. “About having something to sell.” Her eyes met mine, and an unspoken communication passed between us. She knew as well as I did how much money something like that was worth, the possibilities it could open up for two poor young women. Yet here we were instead, charging into the uncertain night.
I was glad I hadn’t sold it that morning. Anya would still have been selected; at least now it could protect her this way. “I think it was made by the Fae,” I said, raising my voice so the others could hear. “When I touch it, the ground glows, like it’s showing me the way.”
The other women gathered around to look at the dagger, too. I held it tightly, not trusting anyone else with it. What if they dropped it in one of the bog’s dark pools? Then we’d be alone out here with nothing but the will-o’-the-wisps again.
When I looked up, I realized the faerie lights were brighter, clearer—and much closer. One drifted within ten feet of us, approaching from the right. Suddenly it didn’t look like an orb at all. The thing that approached was a pale, shriveled creature with webbed feet and enormous red eyes, and the light hung like a lure from an antenna on its head.
Its mouth opened to reveal jagged fangs.
A surge of terror swept through my body. I knew, as certainly as I’d ever known anything, that this creature wanted to kill us. The hilt in my hand vibrated with urgency.
Others were closing in on us. “You see them, right?” I asked Anya, my voice sharp with fear. “The monsters?”
Her brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
She couldn’t see them, I realized sickly. Just like the dagger had shown me a path, now it was showing me the truth beneath the lights. “Touch the knife,” I ordered, holding it out.
She reached for the hilt, then pulled her hand back with a shriek. “Ow!” A thin line of blood trailed down her palm. “What was that for?”
A razor-sharp metal thorn retracted into the hilt.
Apparently I was the only one allowed to touch it, and therefore the only one who could see the monsters approaching. The closest creature hissed at me, and a long black tongue darted over its fangs.
Run . The word echoed in my head, cold and metallic, but there was no time to question where it had come from.
“Everyone listen,” I said urgently. “We need to run as fast as we can. Whatever you do, stay away from the faerie lights, and only step where I step.”
“But the lights are leading us to safety,” Nora argued.
“No, they’re not.” They might have lured us along the correct path until we were far from the Tumbledown crowds, but now they approached with darker intentions. “Just trust me. We have to run.”
The nearest monster opened its jaws wider. It ran towards us from the right, its webbed feet skimming over a patch of murky water.
I sprinted over the uneven ground, hoping the blue-white light really did paint a safe path forward. The other girls followed, shrieking and begging me to stop.
A bloodcurdling scream split the air.
I glanced back. Frail Bertha had fallen behind, and now monsters swarmed over her. I heard wet ripping sounds: not fabric, but flesh. The arcing spray of her blood glistened in the moonlight. Nora shrieked, shielding her face from the dark drops.
We ran.
The starry path arrowed across the bog, then turned in dizzying switchbacks. We were running so recklessly it was a wonder I didn’t slide right off the path, but terror seemed to lend me extra agility. Anya followed a few feet behind with Fiona close on her heels, but Nora was struggling to maintain the pace. A light bobbed in her wake. The monsters weren’t as fast as we were, but they had the advantage of being able to skim across more treacherous sections, rather than being tied to this narrow, winding path. They were closing on us quickly.
Nora cried out, a sound of raw animal pain. When I looked over my shoulder, I saw Anya’s terrified face, then Fiona’s…and then Nora’s head tumbling wetly to the ground as her body sagged into the claws of a monster. The creatures began to feed, teeth flashing in the moonlight.
Nora’s death might buy us time. I ripped my cloak off and tossed both it and the walking stick aside to lend me speed. The air tore out of my lungs as I ran faster than I ever had in my life. I couldn’t hear anything but my own breathing as I followed the treacherous path. The fog was thickening, but the glow of the trail cut through it, and my feet continued to meet solid ground. When I reached another straightaway, I looked back to see how close the monsters were.
Anya was gone.
Not falling behind, not splashing in the water, not surrounded by monsters, not screaming, just…gone.
She had been a few feet behind the last time I’d looked. Where was she?
I staggered and nearly fell. “Anya!” I shouted, voice shredded. She couldn’t be gone. She couldn’t have drowned or been caught by those creatures. She couldn’t be…
Fiona ran into me, nearly knocking both of us down. “Go!” she screamed, face tight with panic. “Or they’ll take us, too.”
My eyes darted wildly over the bog. The mist was rising, and I couldn’t see Anya anywhere. Lights bobbed as the creatures tore after us with bared fangs. “What happened— Where is—”
“It’s too late. Go!”
Too late . No, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t .
But Anya wasn’t there anymore, and if she was still alive, she would be there . She would never leave me, any more than I would leave her.
The truth settled into my gut and bones, a feeling so heavy and horrible I didn’t know how my body could possibly contain it.
“Please,” Fiona gasped, tears streaking down her cheeks. “I don’t want to die.”
Grief nearly choked me, but I forced myself to keep moving. One step after another. Every pound of a foot on the ground was a syllable of her name. Anya Anya Anya said the beating tattoo, but I forced it into a different chant: Survive survive survive . I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t cry. Couldn’t hesitate for even a single second or the fanged monsters at my back would rip me apart.
There was a shriek and a splash and then a horrible, keening cry from Fiona. I blocked out the sound of them feeding. They’d be done with her soon, and then I’d be the only one left.
There. Ahead of me. I finally saw a dark line that looked like trees. The path took one last dizzying twist before straightening out into the final stretch that would take me to solid ground.
I was about to find out what was on the other side of the bog.
A sob tore from me as I forced my aching legs to keep moving. As I rounded the final corner, fangs punctured my ankle and I fell. I kicked, striking the monster with my booted foot. It squealed, but then it was back, sinking its teeth in deeper.
This was it.
I still clutched the dagger in one fist. I wrenched free, then rolled over to face the monster. The blade shone sharp and lethal between us, and I felt suddenly certain it wanted to taste the monster’s blood.
The creature stopped. Its red eyes widened and its mouth dropped open. Then…it backed away.
I didn’t stop to question my luck. I pushed to my feet and began running flat out down the final straightaway.
My leg was bleeding. My lungs ached. My soul had been torn wide open. My vision was starting to blacken.
It didn’t matter. I wouldn’t stop.
So when I burst out of the bog and onto a grassy slope, I couldn’t slow for a while. Not until I reached the forest and realized the monsters had stopped at the edge of the bog and were staring after me.
I had made it to Mistei.
I collapsed onto a bed of dead leaves as the strength left my body. My vision was almost completely dark from exhaustion.
I saw two more things before passing out, neither of which made any sense.
The dagger melted and flowed liquidly up my hand and inside my sleeve before I felt it solidify into a spiral around my upper arm.
Then the face of a goat appeared directly above me. The square pupils of its yellow eyes dilated until they almost swallowed the irises.
“Well,” the goat said in a raspy, bleating voice. “This is unexpected.”