The Faerie War

Chapter 7

Seven

Even though the rest of the fae world is probably consumed by storms and battles, the two guys standing in front of me seem happy to waste time on introductions. The faerie who let me in is Tryce, and the guy who just entered the room is his father, Yale. He’s the one in charge here. After I’ve shown Yale my guardian markings, I try to get to the point. “One of the Queen’s closest advisors heard rumors of the weapon you’ve been guarding ever since Tharros was defeated. The youngest Unseelie prince now has the chest containing Tharros’ power. We know he’s going to unlock it soon—if he hasn’t done so already. We need the weapon that can destroy that power. That’s why I was sent here.”

Yale sighs, then motions for me to sit down. “The Queen’s advisor obviously didn’t hear the whole story.”

Fantastic. Why is there always another obstacle? “What part did he miss?”

“The weapon will do you no good. There is only one person who can use it.”

I throw my hands up. Why can’t someone just give me the bottom line here? “And? Who is this person?”

“We don’t know,” Tryce says.

I stand up and start pacing. This whole mission has been a waste of time from the start. Now I’m stuck here with no way of getting home. Unless I start walking, which would take weeks. Or perhaps I could get hold of a pegasus … I stop pacing and cross my arms. “I know you’ve spent your whole lives guarding this thing, so forgive me for saying this: Your weapon sounds pretty useless.”

“I understand your frustration,” Yale says, “but that’s the way it is. After Tharros was separated from his power and killed, the power was captured in a chest. The Order of the Guard was formed to protect the power until it could be destroyed. The head of the Order at the time, a man who had crafted weapons for centuries, received a prophecy one day while he was creating a sword.”

My weary mind conjures up an image of a parcel arriving with a tag on it that says Prophecy. I press my lips together and try not to laugh.

“As the words came to him, he etched them onto the blade of the sword,” Yale continues. “That is the sword we’ve been guarding for centuries. It’s those words that say only one person can use it.”

“So … can I see this sword?”

The two of them lead me through the house, past bedrooms, a large dining room, a library, and several closed doors. We come to a spiraling staircase, which takes us down to another level. I see a room that looks like a smaller version of the Guild’s training center. Another room contains an enormous oval-shaped pool. At the end of a passage, Tryce and Yale stop in front of a blank wall. They each place a hand on it and wait for several seconds before the wall vanishes.

I follow them into a darkened room, bare except for a glass case in the center. The case is lit and appears to be sitting on air. Inside the case, resting on a cushion, is a sword. The hilt is inlaid with sapphires and engraved with ornate patterns. Etched into the shining silver blade are tiny words.

“Can I take a closer look?” I ask, stepping toward the case. I have a feeling that if I touch it, an alarm will go off or I’ll lose a hand or find myself hanging upside down in midair again.

“Certainly,” Yale says. He places three fingertips on one side of the glass. It glows briefly before vanishing. “You can pick it up.”

With one hand beneath the blade and another beneath the hilt, I lift the sword carefully. “So this is what’s supposed to save us all,” I murmur. I bring the sword closer to my face and read the prophecy’s words out loud. “‘Two halves in one have more power than a whole. The fae world will bow beneath his mark. Only the sword can stop him, and only one can wield the sword: the Star of the high land. She is hidden, but the finder will find her. She will break the whole in half. By the strike of the sword, and the death of innocence, evil will be laid to rest.’ Okay. Pretty cryptic.”

“Do you understand now why we don’t know who can use the sword?” Tryce asks. “We don’t know anything about either the Star or the finder.”

“Actually, the finder part makes some sense to me,” I tell them as hope kindles a small flame within me. “I know someone who can find people. Anyone, anywhere. That is—” fear grips my heart and threatens to smother my hope “—if she’s still alive.”

“Really?” Tryce says. “You know the finder?”

“Well, I don’t know if she’s the finder the prophecy mentions, but she’s the only one I know. I’d say that’s a good start.”

“That’s more than a good start. I imagined us guarding this useless thing until the end of the world.”

Yale sighs. “It’s good to know you’ve always been wholeheartedly committed to our cause, son.”

“Hey, I’ve never—”

“Right, so, I’m leaving as soon as possible,” I interrupt loudly, hoping to dispel the mix of anger and annoyance I’m feeling from the two men. “On foot, since there’s no other way. And obviously I’ll take the weapon with me.” I hope that isn’t going to be a problem for these guys.

“We’ll go with you,” Tryce says immediately. His anger vanishes, quickly replaced by excitement.

Yale nods. “Yes, that way we can continue to guard the weapon.”

“You don’t trust me with it?” I ask.

“Trust has nothing to do with it,” Yale says. “Our life no longer has meaning here if we have no weapon to guard. We may as well come with you and fight whatever new evil has been unleashed on our world.”

“Right, okay.” Makes sense, I suppose. “So … you know how to fight?”

“It’s not like we have much else to do here,” Tryce says. He takes the sword from my hand and returns it to the cushion. The glass case appears around it once more. “I’ll inform the others. We’ll leave as soon as everyone’s ready.”

“Others?”

“Yes. The Order has eighteen members.”

And here I was imagining only two guys protecting a weapon that could save the lives of thousands. “There are eighteen of you, but only one person came to see who was knocking at the door? What if I had overpowered you?”

Tryce laughs. “You obviously didn’t see the other six who were out there watching you squirm upside down.”

So I embarrassed myself in front of seven people instead of one. Fantastic. I cross my arms. “I have one more question, Tryce: If there are eighteen skilled fighters living here, how did a young guardian girl manage to sneak in and steal the chest containing Tharros’ power?”

Angelica’s theft of the chest is apparently an embarrassing story no one wants to talk about. After Tryce disappears to inform the Order members about what’s going on, and after we wait for the six patrolling the mountainside to return, we finally get going.

Our group of nineteen moves quickly, navigating through the dark almost as easily as we would through daylight. The Order members don’t say much. Normally I’d be fine with that, but right now I’d give anything to be distracted from the thoughts that keep tormenting me. Thoughts of the terrible things that could be happening right now to the people I love. I keep telling myself that Violet and my mother and father are entirely capable of protecting themselves. I just hope Dad managed to get Calla to safety before anything could happen to her.

I distract myself by focusing on individual Order members. I let their emotions wash over me. I welcome them, almost to the point of letting them overwhelm me. Excitement and enthusiasm are mixed in with a sprinkling of fear. I allow the excitement to invade me and take the place of the anxiety gnawing a hole in my insides. It works—sort of.

Grey light turns to pink, then orange, then yellow as the sun rises above the trees we’re journeying through. We don’t stop. We pass food around and wolf it down while walking. All too quickly, the sun travels across the sky and disappears behind the trees.

Another day gone.

Night wraps around us. Still, we keep moving. I’m not tired yet; whenever I think of what might be happening in Creepy Hollow, I’m energized. Several hours later, Yale stops us and asks someone to check the state of the faerie paths. After lightning burns a hole in the ground and half the Order winds up drenched and windswept, we manage to get the doorway closed. Yale decides we should rest for a few hours.

The mere thought of all the time we’re wasting on this journey is enough to twist my insides into a knot. I think about continuing without the Order. After all, a single person is less conspicuous than a group of nineteen, and I won’t stop to rest unless my body is crippled with exhaustion. But Yale convinces me that showing up in the middle of faerie civilization without a force of warriors—even a small one—isn’t the best idea. Neither is dropping unconscious from exhaustion.

The next few days pass in the same way. Someone checks the faerie paths once a day. We then rest for two or three hours. I start to wonder if faerie paths are a thing of the past. Faeries have been using them for as long as anyone can remember, but what if they never function normally again?

On our fourth or fifth day—I’m starting to lose count—the leafy trees surrounding us give way to burned trees. Some stand with bare limbs pointing to the sky while others lie cracked and broken on the ground. I jog to the front of the group to speak to Yale.

“Where are we? Is this the middle of nowhere or somewhere specific?”

“I think we’re in Black Rain Ridge.”

“Does it always look like this?” I gesture to the blackened trees.

Yale shakes his head. “I think there’s a Guild somewhere nearby. They must know what’s going on in the rest of the world.”

“If there’s a Guild here, we won’t find it,” I tell him. “Guilds are hidden, just like faerie homes. Only those who are members here would know where the entrance is.”

Yale exhales. “That’s disappointing.”

I clench my jaw. That’s an understatement. I can’t believe we’re this close to a Guild but have no way of contacting them. Hopefully we’ll come close enough to the Guild’s entrance for their guards to see us. Or we’ll pass someone walking through the trees. Yes, I realize with relief. No one here can use the faerie paths, so surely people will be walking.

“What’s that over there?” Tryce, walking on the other side of his father, points toward a pile of something through the blackened trees. From here it looks like it could be a large mound of rubbish. We head toward it. My hand tingles, ready to reach for a weapon if I need it. As we get closer, I recognize some of the shapes on the mound. An upside down table, couch cushions, a bed’s cracked headboard.

My blood runs cold as I realize what I’m looking at. I hear a sharp intake of breath from Tryce and a whispered “No” from Yale. Murmurings behind us indicate we’re not the only ones who’ve figured out what’s in front of us.

It’s a faerie home. At least, it was.

Broken furniture and belongings are piled up amidst the splintered pieces of tree that once housed these belongings. The tree, which was meant to keep everything hidden and intact, must have split open.

“There’s another one over there,” someone behind us says.

“How is this possible?” Yale asks. “The spells concealing homes are supposed to be among the most powerful.”

I don’t answer him. The only thought passing through my mind is that this might be what my home looks like. This might be what the whole of Creepy Hollow looks like. Oh, please, no. No no no.

We wander through Black Rain Ridge, passing more and more destroyed homes. The only sound comes from the crunching of scorched twigs beneath our feet. There are no people. No animals or other fae. As the dim purple of twilight descends upon us, Yale suggests we try the faerie paths again.

I volunteer. I don’t mind if I wind up drenched or covered in snow or hail. Anything to distract me from the possibility that the home I’ve always known is as bare and dead as the forest I now stand in. I pull out my stylus and start writing the words for a doorway in the air. I think of how jealous Violet used to be that this was the one thing I could easily do that she couldn’t. I’m so consumed by how much I miss her that for a moment I don’t see what’s happening right in front of me: the storm’s gone. There’s only a black hole, inviting me to walk into it.

“It’s working!” Tryce shouts.

It’s working.

Hope. Relief. Determination. They’re my emotions and everyone else’s.

“I assume you’d like to lead the way?” A hand touches my shoulder. Yale’s standing beside me.

Hell, yes. No one could hold me back now if they tried. I nod, then grasp his hand and walk into the blackness, trusting the others will form a chain behind me. I think of my home and hold fast to that image. My home is far enough away from the Guild that if something big is going on there, we won’t arrive in the middle of it.

Light forms in front of me as a doorway opens. It’s still afternoon here, several hours behind Black Rain Ridge. I freeze. Part of me wants to rush into the familiarity of Creepy Hollow, but part of me is terrified of what I’ll find. I steel myself for the worst and walk out of the faerie paths.

Ruined.

My home is ruined. A pile of broken rubble. I thought I was prepared for the possibility, but the shock of seeing it is enough to suck the breath out of me. I crouch down and place my head in my hands, ignoring the footsteps of Order members walking past me. My home is gone. I have no idea where my mother is or if she’s even alive.

“Was this your home?” Yale asks.

I nod. I’m not sure I trust myself to speak right now. I count to twenty, then stand as Tryce and another faerie jump off the mound of debris. “There’s no one here,” Tryce says quietly.

No bodies, he means. Because why would a living person stay with a pile of rubble?

“Do you want to look through your things?” Yale asks gently.

I shake my head. I don’t want to remember my home like this.

“Well … we need to decide what to do now, Oryn. Should we go to your Guild?”

Oh, dear Seelie Queen, the Guild. Is it possible it looks just like this? Completely demolished? It can’t be. The Guild is enormous. I can’t imagine how much of the forest would be flattened if all the glamours and concealments of the Guild were shattered.

“Just … give me five minutes,” I say. I turn away and write another doorway in the air. I walk through, thinking of Violet’s home, wondering if by some small chance it escaped this destruction. But when I step out of the darkness, it’s to see a scene almost exactly like the one I just left.

A moan of despair escapes past my lips. I don’t often cry. I’m assaulted by countless emotions every day, including sorrow, but crying isn’t something I generally do. Right now, though, tears seem like the only response. I’ve never felt so lost and helpless. I don’t know how this happened or who did it. I don’t know where anyone is. I don’t know who’s alive, who’s captured, who’s free. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.

I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing tears back before they come. I climb onto the heap, searching the clutter as I go. My heart speeds up with each piece of furniture I move aside; I’m terrified I’ll find a body beneath one of them. I reach the top of the pile having found nothing. It’s a relief, but I still feel lost. If Violet hasn’t come looking for me it’s because she can’t. She’s either captured or …

I don’t want to consider the other possibility.

I look down at a drawer lying beside splinters of wood. Brightly colored ribbons catch my attention. The ribbons from Violet’s grandmother. The ribbons I had Raven make into a bracelet. I crouch down and remove them from the drawer. I wind the ribbons around my fingers before pushing the multi-colored loop into one of my pockets. Then I take the tokehari ring Violet’s father gave her and add it to the ribbons. I’ll give these things to her when I find her. Because I will find her.

I stand and navigate back down the wreckage. I’m about to open a doorway to return to my home when I hear a whimper nearby. I swivel my head around, searching. When I hear the sound again, I step toward the tree I think it came from. A glowing knife tingles in my hand. Before I can take another step, a squirrel drops from one of the charred branches and lands on the ground. It stares up at me with large eyes before shifting into a white mink.

“Filigree?”

He squeaks and bounds toward me. He crawls all the way up my body and wraps himself around my neck. I pull him gently away and hold him in front of my face. “Do you know anything about Violet? Do you know where she is?”

He squeaks, reaching for my neck once more. I hold him closer, like a child hugging a toy, and listen to his pitiful whimpers.

I’ll take that as a ‘no.’

I let him wrap himself around my neck as I open a doorway and head back to my ruined home. I see a few raised eyebrows when people notice the shapeshifter pet clinging to me, but no one says anything.

“Okay, let’s figure out what to do next,” I say to the group. “We need to check out the Guild, but we should definitely approach it carefully.”

“That won’t be happening.” I jerk to the side and find the owner of the voice stepping in front of a tree. The two knives that appeared in my hands vanish when I see who it is.

“Dale.” Relief washes over me at the sight of my friend, although it’s hard to feel it amidst all the panic I’m receiving from everyone else in the group. “You’re okay.”

A strange smile curls on his lips. “Got you,” he says, then raises his bow and arrow and shoots at me.