Jakob was nearly shaking with rage. He could not believe that Clothis and the Woodwalker were actually considering leaving Leila in the clutches of the Faerie Queen. They both looked so resolved, as if Leila were already dead. He shook his head and clenched his eyes shut, taking a few steadying breaths to calm himself. He would not lose Leila. Not to the spirits, not to the Faerie Queen, and certainly not to Fynn. The memory of the kiss, Leila with her arms around Fynn’s neck, burned in his mind and he did his best to extinguish the flames. He would prove his love for Leila. He would rescue her, even if no one else would join him. The anger faded, replaced with cool resolve as he made up his mind.
“I’m going,” he said, stepping towards the toadstool circle. “I can’t sit here and wait while Leila’s in trouble.”
Fynn nodded. “Very well. I can bring you to the faerie world, but once there, you will be on your own.”
“A picnic! A picnic!” Will shouted excitedly, moving to stand next to Jakob. “Sandwiches and kites! I’ll pack the sardines!”
Clothis sighed and joined Jakob and Will. “She is there because of me. I won’t abandon her either. I owe her this, at least.”
“And an apology,” Jakob teased.
Clothis looked shocked for a moment, then a slow smile spread on her face. She nodded. “Yes. An apology as well.”
Fynn still seemed troubled. He looked as if he were about to speak, then thought better of it and took a few steps closer to his companions. They gathered together in the toadstool circle, watching the Woodwalker with expressions of trust. Fynn closed his eyes and turned his head slightly aside before making an upward waving motion with one hand in the direction of the humans. A whirlwind of leaves began to spin around them, hiding them from the eyes of the world they knew and transporting them far, far away. With a snap of his fingers, Fynn vanished as well.
Ruella stood in the shadows of the glad, chuckling to herself. Quietly, she vanished into the darkness.
***
Jakob didn’t dare open his eyes until he was certain that his feet were on solid ground once more. He found that he was gripping something tightly, and as he opened his eyes he realized it was Clothis’ hand. Quickly, he dropped the Dyrel’s hand and averted his gaze, but Clothis hadn’t appeared to notice. She was looking around at the strange scenery that spread out all around them like a tapestry.
The wood in which they found themselves looked surprisingly like the wood they had just left. Jakob was a little disappointed. He had expected trees of purest white with silver leaves, but instead he found himself looking at ordinary trees in an ordinary forest. The air, however, seemed misty and hung heavily all around them like a perpetual fog. At his feet, the grass was shimmering with dew, illuminated by a silvery light. The entire wood had an ethereal quality that made him realize quite suddenly that he was no longer in the world he knew.
“Now what?” he asked, finding that even his voice sounded different here.
A few giggles answered him, coming from the treetops. He craned his neck and saw cherub-like faces staring at him from between the leaves. They smiled and waved at him, their eyes bright and dark and their skin pale as moonlight. Jakob raised a hand to wave back, only to have Will slap it down again. Startled, Jakob looked at the other Huryl, who shook his head warningly.
“This way, children,” a familiar voice spoke.
From the mist came a figure dressed in furs. She waited patiently for them to approach, which they did cautiously. Jakob kept a hand on his sword, and he saw that Clothis was doing likewise. The great bow lent to her by Fynn was still on her back, the dark wood seeming out of place in the land of faerie.
“Ruella?” Clothis asked. “What are you doing here?”
The witch of the wood winked at them. “A long story. It was part of the gift I received many years ago. But come, the Queen is this way and you can’t keep royalty waiting.”
Ruella laughed and began to walk through the ghostly forest. The others followed, trailing closely in the footsteps of the witch.
“What gift did you get?” Clothis asked.
“Strange question to come from you, Dyrel soldier,” Ruella replied. “Didn’t figure your kind to likin’ witches like me.”
Clothis shrugged. “I’ve seen many things I like less than witches since then.”
“Fair enough, fair enough,” Ruella nodded. “I’ll tell my tale, then. I was from a village on the outside of the forest. Had a mam and a pap, brothers and sisters too, but I different from the other folk, straight from the start. Could hear things, whispers on the wind. Not enough for me to do anything, but enough for the others to keep their distance.
“I took to spendin’ days in the wood, away from the folk. Even my own family told me to go, since my sisters were lookin’ to marry and havin’ a crazy in the family was enough to keep the men-folk away. One night, I met the Woodwalker.
“He was the first to ever talk nice to me, so I followed him. Brought me deeper into the wood than I’d ever been, and asked me if I knew who he was. I told him I did, and said he could take my soul, for all the good it was doin’ me. That surprised him. I was probably the first to ever agree to disappear.”
Clothis raised an eyebrow cautiously at the woman they were trusting. She glanced over her shoulder to Jakob to see if he was listening to the story. He was, and his hand was still firmly on his sword. He was watching Ruella distrustfully, wondering how long it would take before her betrayal would be evident.
“The Woodwalker asked me why I was so ready and willin’ to part with my life, sos I told him, and I told him that he could have my soul on one condition. I wanted to be the witch that all the folk in my village thought I was. I wanted to be able to do all the things they feared.”
Ruella laughed. “The Witch of the Wood, I am. I see more than I ever could, know more than any of them ever would. They hated me, so I became what they wished me to be.”
Clothis blinked in surprise, her mind struggling with the proper emotion. She felt pity for the hated woman, despised and rejected by her village, but she also felt the fear the villagers had felt.
“What happened to your village?” Jakob asked softly.
Ruella shrugged. “Never went back to find out. It must be dust by now. Look at me, gabbin’ on. We’re here.”
She stopped and gestured with one arm for the trio of humans to continue. Clothis thanked Ruella and stepped forward, through a thick patch of evergreens and into a large glade. The others followed closely behind, eager to be free of the misty wood. They nearly collided into Clothis as she stopped dead in her tracks and gasped in awe at the beauty of the glade.
The grass sparkled, as if every blade had a diamond resting on it. The trees made a respectful circle around the clearing, hiding it from the outside world. The mistiness of the wood was less oppressive here, the air shining like a gentle snowfall on a sunny winter morning. In the centre was a tall silver oak tree, its branches fanning out to encompass nearly the entire open space, twinkling like starlight. At the base of the oak was an intricate throne that seemed to have grown out of the tree itself. Clothis and her friends took several steps towards the throne, and the beautiful woman who sat there.
“What brings you to my domain?” the woman asked in an icy voice.
Clothis bowed respectful to her, her eyes glancing at the woman’s companions as she straightened. To the woman’s right was Fynn, dressed in blue and silver and holding a white bow and quiver of arrows. He stared straight ahead, his face betraying no signs that he knew the three humans who stood before his Queen.
To the Queen’s left was Leila, seated on the ground at the Queen’s feet. Her head was resting on the Queen’s lap with one hand on her knee, and she was watching them with dead eyes. The Queen petted Leila’s hair, stroking it as if the girl were a favoured pet. All the while, the Queen focused her eyes on the intruders.
“Return Leila to us,” Jakob demanded, stepping forward.
The Faerie Queen laughed, lifting one snow-white hand to cover her small dainty mouth. Her ice blue eyes stared hard at Jakob and she raised a pencil thin eyebrow inquiringly.
“Why should I do that, human?” the Queen replied. “She is mine, taken by my servant as a present for me. It would be insulting to return her.”
“You can’t just keep her,” Jakob insisted.
The Queen laughed again. “You are an amusing human, but you bore me. Leave my domain at once and I will not harm you.”
“Not without Leila,” Jakob cried, drawing his sword and rushing forward.
He had taken only a few steps towards the Queen when he suddenly stopped, his sword falling from limp hands. Clothis gasped as Jakob fell to his knees, putting his left hand to his right shoulder and feeling the arrow that protruded from his arm.
From his position at the Queen’s right hand, Fynn lowered his bow and took a half step back. The Queen continued to stroke Leila’s hair calmly. Clothis hurried forward, and helped Jakob to his feet.
“You missed, Aefynnelldar,” the Faerie Queen remarked. “My attacker still lives. Or could it be you were not aiming for his heart?”
She raised one hand to the silver locket that hung against her snowy skin and tightened her fingers around it. A hurt expression flickered over Fynn’s features, and he closed his eyes until it passed.
“Forgive me, my Queen.”
“I will deal with you later, Aefynnelldar. First, we have these mortals to contend with.”
Clothis knelt on the shining grass, holding Jakob in her arms. Will crouched next to the two of them, and pulled the arrow from Jakob’s body with a single tug. The Huryl soldier buried his face in Clothis’ shoulder to stifle the grunt of pain. Will rose to his feet and discarded the arrow as he did. He approached the Faerie Queen and bowed respectfully.
“Majesty,” he said in a clear, confident voice. “You have in your hands the lives of so many mortal girls, why does this one please you so much?”
“She is the newest, and therefore my favourite,” the Queen said, putting a finger under Leila’s chin and raising the girl’s head so their eyes meet. “She is different from the others.”
“She is different,” Will agreed. “She is not of this world, and cannot stay here. You cannot claim the soul of a foreigner. She is not of your world, or mine, or any other that we know of.”
The Queen’s eye hardened. “She will remain with me until she is one with this world. I will not relinquish her.”
As she spoke, her fingers once again brushed the silver locket at her throat. Will smiled to the Faerie Queen and raised a hand, as if he had suddenly thought of something brilliant.
“Then I propose a game, Majesty,” he said. “The winner of the game will have claim to the girl’s soul. If we win, she will return to the mortal world.”
“And if I win, her soul, and all of yours, will be mine,” the Queen said. “Done! The choice of competition shall be yours. A Test of Wit, or a Test of Skill. Your champion against mine.”
“Agreed,” Will said. “Allow me to discuss it with my friends.”
The Queen waved at him dismissively and Will returned to crouch next to Clothis and Jakob. The two were staring at him as if he was a stranger, but the Huryl traitor waved aside their obvious questions.
“No time right now to explain, even if I could. I haven’t felt this much like myself in years,” Will whispered. “But first we have to pick a test to save Leila.”
“Or lose all of us,” Jakob added.
“If Leila is a faerie slave, do you think it matters what happens to us?” Will snapped. “Think, Jakob!”
“How do we know what the tests are?” Clothis asked.
“We don’t,” Will replied with a sigh. “Faeries and spirits love games and challenges, so all I know for certain is that it will be difficult. It’s still our only chance. Which test should we pick?”