“What’s wrong with her?”
I felt a warm hand on my forehead and grew instantly irate. How dare a human touch me? I squirmed under the cold touch, and the hand recoiled quickly. My eyes were still closed, but I did not need them. I could see the human man kneeling next to the still form of a human girl. I was growing impatient and glanced around for something to do. The humans appeared to be in a desert, surrounded on all sides by blowing sand dunes and sheltered by several large rocks. In the distance were tall mountains, and the air behind them was thick with smoke. I turned eagerly to the source of the blaze, wanting to join my siblings, but found I could not move from the assembled humans.
“She’s trapped.”
The Woodwalker was crouching next to the girl, and he laid his hand on her chest. I felt his touch on my own body and blinked in confusion. Was this human girl connected to me? That was impossible! She was a human, and I was … what was I? Suddenly, I was not quite sure.
The Woodwalker tilted the girl’s head back gently and lowered his face to hers. I could feel the girl’s heart flutter as the Woodwalker’s lips met hers. He breathed into her, filling her with life, and my eyes slowly opened.
I looked up into Fynn’s face, still able to feel the softness of his lips on mine. He smiled at me, but did not let me go. I lay half in his arms as my mind frantically tried to sort out what had happened to me.
“Leila!” Jakob said, relief evident in his voice.
I turned to face him and smiled reassuringly. My body was sore and weak, but I forced myself into a sitting position with Fynn’s assistance. The world spun and I pressed my hand to my temple. My skin felt hot under my touch, but I did not feel hot. Perhaps I was feverish? If only I could remember!
“Are we in a desert?” I asked, noticing the comfortable dryness of the air and the soothing heat radiating from the ground.
Jakob nodded, the sweat dripping down his face. “We had no choice. The Huryl soldiers won’t follow us here.”
I looked up at Fynn. “The Wood?”
His expression was pained. He seemed older, more worn, as if a great weight had been placed on his shoulders. “Don’t worry about that now.”
Clothis appeared, holding three water skins in her hand. She tossed one to Fynn, who held it to my lips for me to drink. I pushed it aside weakly, my lips curling in distaste. Fynn shook me once roughly and pinned my arms to my sides, forcing the water down my throat. I squeezed my eyes tight against the burning pain of the liquid as it moved.
“How did it go?” Jakob asked Clothis conversationally.
She took a long gulp of water and passed it to Jakob. “The troops were too busy trying to put out the fire and rescue the half-drowned soldiers to notice me borrowing some of their supplies.”
“What fire?” I asked. “What happened?”
Clothis glanced at me and looked up at Fynn. “Is she all right now?”
Fynn nodded. “I hope so.”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded with growing agitation.
Fynn looked at me, his expression suddenly dark and serious. I found myself wishing he would smile and tell me everything would be okay. Instead, he held me tightly so I could not escape, and I saw some of the Woodwalker in him that the people of this world feared.
“Leila, don’t call the spirits again,” Fynn ordered. “You can’t control them.”
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “We need the spirits.”
“No,” he said firmly. “The spirits need you.”
“We almost lost you to them,” Jakob said, the worry apparent on his face.
I laughed weakly. “What is this? An intervention? Okay, I promise not to call the spirits, if it means that much to you.”
Fynn looked away and sighed. “I don’t think it will be that easy for you now, Leila.”
I puzzled over his words in silence as Clothis and Jakob packed up our small camp and prepared to continue our journey. I watched them from the safety of Fynn’s arms. We still had some of the things we had taken from Cireno’s cave, and the supplies Clothis had taken from the Huryl soldiers, but our possessions were meager. I wondered how we would survive in a desert for long.
“Where are we going?”
“Deeper into the desert,” Jakob replied as he worked. “The soldiers are guarding the entire border between us and the Wood. We won’t be able to sneak through easily. We’ll be safe here, for now.”
I saw him suppress a shudder, and Clothis laughed.
“The superstitious Huryl believe this desert is haunted,” she explained.
“At least we won’t be followed,” Fynn said, releasing me.
He rose to his feet slowly, as if it required a great deal of energy to move. I was instantly filled with worry as I stood as well. Clothis and Jakob each shouldered a bag, a slick layer of sweat already visible on their skin. Without another word, Fynn took the lead and we headed over the sand dunes and into the desert.
I had never been in a desert before, but I had seen them plenty of times on movies. I always imagined them to be hotter, more desolate. The Huryl desert was a comfortable temperature, with a breeze blowing steadily across the sand. I had to cover my nose and mouth to keep from inhaling the tiny rocks, as did my companions. The desert seemed to be taking more of a toll on them as they bent over into the wind and continually wiped the sweat from their faces.
“Let me carry something,” I offered, when we stopped for a rest.
Clothis looked up at me with tired eyes. She had been wary of me ever since I had woken up that morning, and I was determined to regain my former trust with her. I smiled pleasantly and held out my hand for her sack.
“You’re not sweating,” Clothis remarked.
I blinked in surprise. “It’s not that hot.”
She turned to Fynn, who was listening intently to our conversation. “I thought you said she was all right now.”
Fynn took a deep drink of water and shook his head. “I did what I could.”
“Over here!” Jakob called.
The soldier had wandered ahead to scout, and had just reappeared over a sand dune, waving his arm over his head. He was almost completely recovered from his tumble over the cliff, and determined to pull his weight in our small group. I took the bag from Clothis and hurried to the dune where Jakob stood. He smiled at me and pointed down the embankment, where a cluster of large rocks stood. I could see something attached to one of the larger rocks, and I thought it was some sort of tribal painting until it moved. My eyes widened and I looked up at Jakob for confirmation.
“I see him too,” the Huryl told me. “He’s not a spirit.”
We slide down the dune, Fynn and Clothis not far behind us, and hurried to where the man hung from the rock. He was unconscious, his head tipped forward and his shoulder-length brown hair hiding his features. He wore only a pair of ripped pants, and his body was thin and burned. There were scars on his shoulders, long and thin, as if he had been beaten before chained to the rock to die.
“He’s alive,” Jakob said, regarding the man.
Suddenly, the man raised his head, fixing us all in the gaze of his bright green eyes. He had a bushy beard on his chin, and his face was deep brown from the sun and dirt.
“I told you to get the money!” he wheezed in a dry voice. “How can I buy a parasol without money?”
I exchanged a look with Jakob, who seemed as shocked as I was. Clothis stepped forward with a water skin and gave the man a drink. He lapped the water up like a dog and sighed contentedly.
“Ah, the best ale is from the south,” he said. “Why are you here with my parrot?”
“Can you tell us your name?” I asked gently.
“Names be long, and names be short, but true love lasts forever!” the man sang.
“He’s mad,” Clothis remarked, starting to move away.
“Wait!” I called. “We can’t just leave him here.” I turned imploringly to Fynn. “Can we do anything at all?”
The man
fixed his eye on Fynn and blinked. “I know you, man. You live in the Spirit
Woods, hunting the souls of mortal men. Far from your home, aren’t you?”
“Not as mad as he seems,”
Jakob muttered.
The man turned to him. “And you, a fellow soldier of our fat king. Flee the Tower? Hmm? Are they still looking for Will?”
“You’re from the Tower, Will?” I asked.
The man laughed. “The last time I answered that question, my dear, I ended up in a vat of soup with a purple dragon. You won’t trick me a third time!”
Fynn stepped forward and pulled the pin from the manacles that held Will to the rock. The man fell to the sand with a dull thud and lay there for a moment, giggling. I began to feel impatient with him, bouncing on the balls of my feet and longing to dance along the tops of the dunes. I was wasting far too much time in this dry place, with only a few small scrubs of grass on which to dance.
Will raised his head from the sand and pointed at me. “The ghosts have you!”
He rose to his feet and scrambled towards me, arms outstretched to reach my shoulders as he drew near. He leaned close, and I could smell the desert on him. He stared into my eyes and cocked his head.
“Lots of ghosts in you,” he murmured. “Got to force them out, girlie. Can’t be comfortable with that many in your head.”
He kissed me on the cheek and pushed himself away from me, laughing and spinning with his arms outstretched. He ran off with amazing energy for someone who had recently been left for dead on a rock, and came back to us with bright eyes.
“Know a place, do you? Not far?” he whispered, as if letting us in on a conspiracy. “Travellers walk there, I saw them. They didn’t see me, no. I am a rock. I am a ghost! No one can see me!”
He giggled and threw his arm around Jakob’s shoulder. Jakob stiffened, but did not move as Will pointed to the distance with one thin arm.
“I’ll take you, my new friends,” he said suddenly. “The place where the travellers go. It can’t be too far. A few dunes at best. Come with me!”
He took a few steps in one direction and paused, waiting for us to follow him. I glanced at my companions. What choice did we have? Follow the crazed man through the desert, or go off on our own?