Clothis ran through the halls of the palace in Oponoe, entrusting the recovering Prince to Gael’s expert care. Damaeon was resting peacefully, sleeping off the effects of Leila’s spell. Leila had been true to her word, restoring the Dyrel Prince to health and leaving him as if he had never been injured. The effect the spell had on Leila, however, was a bit more worrisome.
Clothis was cursing under her breath as she moved, blaming herself for Leila’s transformation. She had pushed the girl to try something, anything, to save Damaeon. The foolish girl had done just that, risking her life for Clothis’ selfish desires. It was a stupid thing for Leila to do, whatever she had done. Brave, noble, and selfless, but stupid. If they found her again, Clothis promised herself she’d give the girl a stern talking to.
She burst through the doors to the kitchen, startling some of the staff into dropping a platter of vegetables. The chef came storming towards her, manoeuvring his way around like someone half his size, but Clothis ignored him and made a beeline to a small table in the back where she knew the two Huryl were hiding. Will was peeling bananas, piling the peels into a growing pyramid on the table and tossing the fruit into a dirty basket on the floor. Jakob was seated in a chair, flicking cards from the deck in his hand onto the table. His mind, however, was clearly not on his task as his eyes stared blankly at a spot on the wall above Will’s head. His hands moved mechanically, slowly throwing the cards, and when Clothis moved to stand in front of him, he didn’t appear to see her.
“Jakob!” Clothis said sharply. “We have a problem.”
“Leila’s dead,” Jakob replied, his voice nearly inaudible. “I think I saw her ghost. It must have been her ghost, because it looked like her, but it wasn’t her. I’m sure it wasn’t her. It couldn’t have been her.”
Clothis sighed and gently took the deck from Jakob’s hand. His other hand continued to mime the motion of tossing the cards, until his brain caught up with the fact that the cards were missing. He moved his eyes onto Clothis, as if realizing she was there for the first time.
“She’s not dead,” Clothis said gently. “At least, not yet, I think. I don’t know what happened, but she saved Damaeon and vanished before my eyes.”
“Vanished?” Jakob blinked.
“Fear not, for you shall be visited by ghosts, and they shall bring glad tidings and bananas for all!” Will laughed, throwing a banana into the air.
Clothis ignored him, keeping her eyes focused on Jakob. The Huryl soldier’s colour was slowly returning, and he reached up with one hand to catch the fruit his friend had carelessly tossed.
“She must have used the power of the spirits,” Clothis finished.
Jakob shook his head. “She told me they hated her. She thinks we all hate her.”
Clothis pressed her lips together firmly, feeling a strong sense of guilt rising in her throat. Leila thought she hated her. That’s why she risked her life to save Damaeon.
“What good are you?” Clothis had yelled.
“How can you save the Dyrel when you can’t save a single man, a man who
deserves to be saved more than anyone else? What good are you if you can’t even
do that?”
The Dyrel bowed her head and let a few tears escape her eyes. She had wept for Damaeon when she thought he would die, and now she wept for the girl who had given her life to save his. She sat down heavily in the third vacant chair, the same chair Leila had sat on hours earlier to eat her final meal.
“The spirits have her,” Clothis told Jakob after a few moments. “They said they have claimed her, that she’s no longer of this world, and that it was the price she willingly paid.”
Jakob shook his head sadly. “If she’s in the spirit world, we’ll never find her. She’s the only one who can see the spirits.”
Clothis turned to look at Will, who was piling banana peels on his head and humming to himself. “Maybe not the only one.”
****
The Spirit Wood was strangely silent. There was no wind, no animals on the ground or in the trees, nothing to betray any signs of life. Clothis stood, holding Fynn’s bow in her hand, and stared into the forest. She had never seen the forest so forbidding, as if the trees themselves wanted to keep visitors out. Behind her, Jakob had his hand on his sword, his eyes scanning the area for signs of attack. Will stood next to him, clutching his arm and whimpering like a frightened dog. Clothis turned to face him.
“What do you see, Will?” she asked.
Will shook his head. “I cannot swim, my lord. Do not ask me to take the stars from the sky and place them in your teacup. It is nearly noon, and the cat enjoys its milk.”
Clothis rolled her eyes and gestured for Jakob to follow her. Together, they crept cautiously into the wood. Will paced back and forth outside for a moment, rubbing his hands together and making chattering noises, before he followed them into the shadows.
“Eyes, dark eyes, lifeless and cruel,” Will murmured. “The forest is alive with hostile eyes.”
Clothis glanced around, seeing nothing but not doubting the truth behind what Will said. No doubt the eyes of the spirits were on them, watching the intruders enter their wood. She found her heart pounding in spite of her attempt to stay calm, and she swallowed a few deep breaths of air to steady herself. She despised an enemy she could not see.
Will was singing a song to himself, his voice shaky and his eyes constantly moving over the trees. A branch snapped, and Will yelped, leaping behind Jakob. Clothis whirled around, an arrow on her bow, aiming her weapon into the forest. She remained motionless for a second before lowering the bow and taking a step back. A woman came out from the shadows of the trees, wearing in a brown dress covered in animal hides. Her hair was wild and dirty, but she smiled at Clothis pleasantly.
“You would be Ruella, the witch of the wood?” Clothis asked.
“I would,” the witch replied. “And you would be friends of Leila, come to save her soul? Well, you’re too late, you are. They’ve got her, and they ain’t about to let go.”
“What did you do to Leila?” Jakob cried, drawing his sword.
Ruella laughed in Jakob’s face. “I did nothing she didn’t ask for. She came to me, cryin’ and sayin’ how much everyone hated her. All she wanted was to save the young prince, and I told her how she could.”
“What happened to her?” Clothis asked.
“She paid the price the spirits asked,” Ruella replied. “A soul for a soul, a life for a life, one human for another.”
Jakob paled. “She sold her soul to the spirits?”
The witch laughed again, a short, barking laugh. “Don’t be daft, boy. Only the faerie can take souls, you know that. A spirit wouldn’t know what to do with a soul if it found one.”
“Her humanity,” Clothis whispered. “One human for another. The spirits gave her the power to save Damaeon, and took her humanity as payment.”
“That sounds about up their alley,” Ruella agreed. “Like I said, the girl paid it willingly, so you’ll have no chance at taking her back. She’s gone.”
“Why didn’t you stop her?” Jakob yelled angrily.
“Why didn’t you?” Ruella replied.
This brought the Huryl up short and he lowered his weapon, his face flushing with anger and frustration. Will broke away from his side and stared to walk away, sniffing the air as if he smelled his favourite dish. Clothis followed him.
“Sweetness,”
Will said. “A feast for a queen! Mustn’t be late. The Lady will never forgive
us if we miss this.”
Clothis looked back to call to
Jakob, and saw that Ruella had vanished, leaving a puzzled Jakob turning in
circles to find her. The Huryl hurried to catch up with his friends, sheathing
his sword as they followed Will deeper into the forest.
He led them to an open space, circular as if the trees themselves did not want to touch the ground. The grove was covered in grass, except a single spot in the centre that appeared to have been burned. Will hung back at the edge of the clearing, cocking his head to one side as if listening and nodded occasionally in agreement to whatever was being said to him. Jakob stood with him, but Clothis walked into the clearing and looked up at the sky.
“Spirits!” she yelled. “Return Leila to us! She is not your kind, and doesn’t belong to you. Return her to us!”
The sky darkened as clouds rolled in to block the moon. The wind picked up, whipping Clothis’ hair around her face, but the Dyrel paid no attention to it. Rain began to fall, turning the ground into a muddy mess, and the earth began to shake. Will ran to Clothis, and Jakob followed close behind. The trio stood together as an intense light erupted in the centre of the grove from the burned patch of ground, rising into the night sky and slicing through the clouds. After several seconds, the light died down, and a figure dressed in a flowing white gown remained. She floated a few inches off the ground, her feet bare and her eyes closed. The wind curled itself around her like a beloved pet, but the figure did not stir.
“Leila?” Jakob called. “Leila!”
The girl in white opened her eyes, and the eyes that stared at the humans were not the friendly blue eyes of Leila, but solid black eyes that saw only the spirit world. The eyes were unkind and cold, the eyebrows narrowing as she raised a single hand to point at the trio.
“Look out!” Will cried, pointing at the ground.
The earth cracked a circle around Leila, cutting her off from her friends and tossing them aside like discarded toys. They fell on top of each other as Will pointed to the sky and gave a strangled cry. The wind picked up, lifting them into the air high above the treetops. Leila watched with her dead eyes as her friends were dropped and left to plummet back to the earth.
“Enough!” a voice rolled through the grove like thunder.
Clothis, Jakob, and Will were caught inches above the ground and settled down gently. They sat up and stared in amazement. Standing at the edge of the forest was the Woodwalker. He was terrifying in his fury, the wind and rain left him untouched as he strode into the glade, passing his former companions without a second glance. His eyes were glowing with anger and he raised his hand, palm forward, at the raging sky. In seconds it cleared, the clouds rolling away and the rain quieting down. He gestured to the earth, and the crevice sealed itself with only a gentle thud to mark its passing. He walked up to where Leila floated, her black eyes unseeing as he approached. Suddenly, he recoiled as if struck and took a few steps backwards.
“A wall,” Will whispered for the benefit of his friends. “The spirits will not relinquish their price without a siege.”
“Release her,” Aefynnelldar commanded in a powerful voice.
A hissing sound carried on the wind reached the huddled humans. Jakob and Clothis looked confused, unable to figure out what creature would make such a sound.
“She is ours,” Will translated. “She gave herself willingly.”
“Release her!” Aefynnelldar shouted again. “You cannot have her this way. It is not what she is destined for.”
He raised both his hands and placed them against the barrier that separated him from Leila. His face crumpled in concentration and strain as he fought to disperse the magic. Will rose shakily to his feet and bowed his head in concentration.
“Whatever strength I have, it is yours to save Leila,” he said in a calm voice.
Clothis and Jakob rose as well, joining him as they sent their love and energy to the Woodwalker. The cry of the spirits was so loud that it was audible to the humans would could not see them, and the crack that formed in their barrier released a glowing red light that seemed to hang in mid air. The Woodwalker cried out as broke through, and the hovering form of Leila collapsed to the ground. The spirits shrieked in anger, but Fynn ignored them as he scooped Leila into his arms and carried her from the grove.
“Come,” he called to the others. “She cannot remain here.”
Stumbling over each other in their desire to leave, Clothis, Jakob, and Will followed the Woodwalker into the forest. As they moved, they each wondered how much Fynn knew about the night’s activities, and how much they should tell him.