Crossroads

I glanced cautiously at the deerskin door behind me. The forest was prowling with spirits and soldiers, all looking for me. The spirits said they would protect me, and the soldiers had killed Fynn. The strange witch Ruella was watching me closely as I struggled to make my decision. Finally, I looked her in the eye and tried to sound braver than I felt.

“What do you know about the spirits?” I asked boldly.

Ruella considered the question for a moment before laughing. She moved to sit on one of the stones and gestured for me to take the other. Hesitantly, I did so, moving deeper into the strange shack. Ruella smiled at me, her eyes twinkling in amusement.

“What do I know, girl?” she repeated with a cackle. “I know as much as any village elder. Why not ask them?”

“I have no village,” I said. “I’m not from this world.”

The witch nodded. “I know as much from the way you dress, girl. Without your guide, you’ll not last long in the forest.”

She had mentioned Fynn before and I leapt at the opportunity to learn more about him. I felt I could trust him after all he had done for me, but I was cautious about his story and whether there was any truth behind it.

“You know about Fynn?” I asked eagerly.

Ruella nodded slowly. “The Woodwalker. Steals the souls of the innocent and sells them to the Queen. Dangerous friend, girl. Very dangerous.”

“Not any more,” I said softly. “He’s dead.”

The witch laughed again. “Right you are, girl. Dead as the grass under a winter snow. But it’s not the Woodwalker you’re wondering about, I reckon. Knows about him, you do. It’s the other spirits you see that are worrying you.”

I nodded glumly. “They said I’ve been promised to them.”

“And you have, girl,” Ruella agreed. “From the start of this world, they’ve been waiting for you. The Queen told ‘em so. You’re their last hope.”

“For what?” I pressed.

Ruella shook her head. “Not me, girl. You’ll not hear the story from anyone’s lips but the Queen’s. The Huryl and the Dyrel ain’t the only ones at war, though. Be good to remember that.”

She rose to her feet and moved to the back of the room, rummaging through a pile of drying animal skins and pottery. She pulled something out and held it tightly in her hand, moving briskly back to the stone chair. She motioned for me to hold out my hand, and I did so tentatively. She took my palm and dropped a handful of black powder onto it. I winced as the powder burned my skin, but said nothing as Ruella traced strange patterns onto my palm. The pain grew more intense and I tried to jerk my hand away, but she held firm to my wrist. A minute later she blew the remaining dust off my hand and released me.

“There y’are,” she said in a satisfied tone.

I glanced at my tingling palm. There was a strange circular pattern burned into my skin. It flared red for a moment, like a fresh wound, before slowly fading to the colour of my skin. Soon it was barely visible to the eye, unless you knew what you were looking for. I raised my eyes to meet Ruella’s.

“A charm,” the witch said. “You’ll not only see the spirits now, but be able to understand what they say. It’ll be useful for you when you meet the Queen.”

She stood and walked to the door. I followed, holding my marked hand in the others and trying to calm my spinning mind after all that had happened. The witch threw back the covering and led me outside. She pointed to her right.

“That way’s the battlefield and the Huryl camp,” she said. Turning, she pointed to her left. “That way’s the Dyrel. They’re much closer, girl. Be on your guard, and good luck.”

I took a few steps into the forest. I had no idea what to do. Turning, I thought to ask Ruella for advice, but I found myself alone. The house where we had rested had vanished, leaving behind the four trees that had served as corners with an empty patch of grass between them. I glanced at my hand and shivered. Alone again, I stood at the crossroads. Right to the Huryl, Roric, Jakob, Mattis, and Ellena; or left to the unknown Dyrel and their elven scouts?