On The Silver Path

“Finally awake?”
Will’s eyes cracked open and he blinked a few times to focus them. He kept his gaze downcast, examining his feet which dangled a few tantalizing inches from the ground. His arms were drawn over his head, and he could feel the manacles that held his weight digging into his wrists. He was a prisoner, and his prison was dark and damp, and most likely underground. It smelled of stagnant water with a few lingering traces of lilac, an unusual combination at best. He raised his eyes to stare angrily at his captor, not in the least surprised at who it was. Lady Ellena stood before him, her arms crossed over her chest and a slight smile on her tiny lips.

“I’ve temporarily removed the curse that was placed on you,” she said. “I want to make sure you fully understand my generous offer.”

Will spat at her. It landed on the stone floor by her feet; she ignored it, her eyes never leaving his face.

“I can make the spell permanent,” she continued. “All I ask is that you lead Leila to the Huryl city.”

“And directly into your hands,” Will finished. “I would rather be mad then betray her.”

“But you already have,” Ellena laughed. “She knows everything. The elves told her about your little act, how you started the crisis that brought her to this world.”

Will said nothing, his eyes narrowing angrily as the truth of her words reached him. He had tried to tell her several times what he had done, but the blasted elven curse had made it all but impossible to explain. Leila would only smile gently at him, hold his hand comfortingly, and reassure him that she would never leave him.

“She also knows it was your fault that her friend died, Clothis, was it? All because you wanted a trinket from the faeries. Do you think she’ll welcome you back, after all the trouble you’ve caused her?”

The prisoner lowered his eyes again. Leila had been forgiving, but what was her limit? She had been reserved around him lately, since Clothis had died and the war for Oponoe had begun. She had left him alone, spending more time with Jakob than him, or with the Dyrel prince. Perhaps she had already begun to hate him. Perhaps he was never meant to be her friend.

“Return to your own kind,” Ellena was saying. “Your mind will be free, and your life will be yours. Is that not your greatest desire? Am I not the only one who can grant it?”

Slowly, Will nodded. Leila had saved him from the desert, but the truth was that the only person looking out for Will was Will. In the end, he would survive.

***

“Will! Fynn!” I called into the forest.

Jakob came up beside me, irritably pulling branches from his scabbard and brushing leaves off his hair. I giggled, and he frowned at me.

“How much longer are we going to look?” he asked.

“Until we find out what happened to them,” I replied sweetly.

Jakob grumbled something under his breath and marched off. From the bushes in front of me came Cyrus, a concerned expression on his face.

“I never thought I’d be looking for the Woodwalker,” he told me. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

I nodded. “He’s my friend. You’ll be perfectly fine.”

Jakob, Cyrus, and I had emerged from the Elven Forest not long ago, guided back to our original entry point by one of Xair’s helpers. The clearing where we had left Fynn and Will had become a battlefield, littered with broken arrows, dead bodies, and stained with blood. I had found no sign of either of my friends, and rather than assume the worst, I decided to hope for the best and begin to search for them. Jakob had grudgingly agreed, and the three of us were combing the outskirts of the Elven Forest for any traces of Will or Fynn.

“Leila!”

Cyrus and I both turned at Jakob’s call and ran through the woods. One downside to my plan was that we were too close to the elven border for me to summon the spirits, so I couldn’t even ask them for help as we searched.

We found Jakob standing in a small area of toppled trees, looking around. His sword was drawn, and I was instantly on my guard. Clothis’ sword was still strapped to my back, but I had not drawn it. I wouldn’t know how to use it even if I did. Cyrus, on the other hand, had taken out his own weapon and was standing protectively close to me.

“What is it?” I asked.

Jakob shook his head, his eyes sweeping the treetops. “I thought I saw a faerie. I was in the trees, staring at me.”

“A faerie? This close to the elves?” I repeated.

The Huryl soldier nodded. “I don’t know where it’s gone to now, though.”

As if in response to his comment, an arrow embedded itself in the soft ground by his feet. He leapt backwards with a curse, still trying to spot his attacker. I still could not wake the spirits within me, and could do nothing to help my friends.

“Where are they coming from?” I asked.

“And why are they shooting us?” Cyrus added.

“They’re after me, I’m afraid.”

I smiled broadly as Fynn stepped out of the forest and into our small clearing. Almost immediately he was besieged by a storm of arrows. Most of them missed, a few struck his leather armour, and the rest he deflected simply by raising his hand. I heard angry muttering in the trees as the Woodwalker approached us.

“We have no time to spare,” Fynn said. “We should hurry.”

“Not before you tell us what’s going on,” Jakob insisted. “Are the faeries attacking you?”

I noticed that Cyrus had shrunk behind me, but was staring at Fynn intensely. Fynn either hadn’t noticed this new companion, or was too preoccupied with what was happening to care. Fynn brushed a few of the faerie arrows from his armour and motioned for us to follow him.

“I’ll explain as we move. Hurry!”
With a sigh, Jakob sheathed his sword and moved after the Woodwalker. Cyrus did the same, keeping me between him and the legendary soul stealer. I smiled inwardly, wondering how long it would take the young soldier to realize Fynn meant him no harm.

“My Queen summoned me after you left,” Fynn said as he moved quickly and silently through the woods. “I could not leave Will to die at the Huryl’s hands, so I resisted. Her magic was too strong, and I was taken to Faerie in the middle of the battle.”

I could see a few faerie archers matching our pace as we moved away from the elven border. They were dressed in the colours of autumn leaves, their skin pale and glittering in the sunlight. For the most part, their hair and eyes were dark, and they had pointed ears similar to Fynn’s, although slightly shorter.

“I broke free of her spell, but when I returned to this world, Will was gone. I tried to follow the Huryl tracks, but my Queen sent her archers after me,” Fynn continued. “There are a lot of people in these woods, souls she desires, but I could not abandon my duty to Leila.”

He glanced over his shoulder at me and I felt myself blushing. My foot caught on a root, and I stumbled a few steps. When I regained my footing and looked up, I found that I was alone in the woods. Fynn, Jakob, and even Cyrus had vanished. Straightening, I spun around slowly but all I could see around me was the forest.

“Hello?” I called.

“Hello,” someone replied.

I rubbed my eyes in confusion. A figure stepped out from behind a tree, her arms crossed over her chest and a frown on her once smiling face. She wore the uniform of a Dyrel guard, but there was a gaping hole in her chest that was stained with blood.

“Clothis?” I whispered.

The huntress nodded, but did not move. “What are you doing, Leila? Why are you following the one who killed me?”

I tried to stammer a reply, but I could only stare into the face of my dead friend. I couldn’t sense any spirits around her, although the ones under my control began to stir so I thought some magic was in play. I had not yet encountered real ghosts in this world, and I wondered vaguely to myself if they existed.

“Do you value his friendship over the one you had with me?” Clothis continued. “Is he more important to you than I was? Did I waste my life, saving yours?”

“No, Clothis, I’m sorry!” I pleaded.

“Is that my sword?” Clothis started walking towards me. “You betray my memory by working with my murderer and you steal my sword? Really, Leila. I expected more from you.”

Tears were forming in my eyes as the ghost of my friend stormed towards me. Without knowing precisely why, I reached over my shoulder and drew out her sword. The ghost stopped in its tracks and stared at me. The blade of Clothis’ sword was glowing a bright white. The ghost of Clothis threw up her arm to shield her eyes, a hiss escaping her lips as I held the glowing blade before her. I blinked in confusion, the light not bothering my vision at all. The full force of the light was directed towards the ghost, sparing me from its brilliance.
“She died for you! You must wield her sword!” Ellena’s words echoed in my mind.

The weapon felt as light as air in my hand, and I held it at the ready. The thoughts the ghost had planted in my mind drifted away, carried by the true emotions of the one who had died for me. I felt the love, respect, and lack of regret that Clothis had felt while alive.

"You killed me!" the ghost cried, a final vain attempt to darken my spirits.

"No," I told her, my voice full of conviction. "You saved me, and for that I will never forget."

With a final scream of frustration, the ghost of Clothis faded. As it vanished, I caught sight of its true form, a dark haired being with pointed ears and malicious eyes. The light of the sword faded, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I placed it once more in the scabbard on my back.

"Lady Leila!"

Turning, I saw Cyrus running towards me, an expression of relief plastered on his face. He slowed to a halt right in front of me, restraining himself from throwing his arms around my neck and hugging me. I smiled, and looking up saw Jakob and Fynn a few steps behind him.

"What happened?" Cyrus asked. "One minute you were right in front of me, then you were gone."

My smile faltered and I shook my head. "I don't know."

"Faerie magic," Fynn replied for me. "They're trying to separate us, wear us down."

“What did you see, Leila,” Jakob asked me, his voice full of concern. “You look pale.”

I shook my head and forced a smile on my face. No sense in worrying him about me, not while Will was still missing and the faeries were roaming the woods. “I’m okay,” I assured him.

“Hurry,” Fynn said, starting to move again. This time, I ran beside him as Jakob and Cyrus brought up the rear.

I noticed that he was moving very cautiously, his eyes darting around the shadows and one hand resting on the sword at his side. His face was stern and serious, and I found myself missing the teasing smile he often had when speaking to me. I wondered why the Faerie Queen had summoned him in the first place, and how he had broken free of her call.

“Fynn,” I said suddenly, “how did you escape the Faerie Queen?”

He waited a long time to answer me, so long that I thought perhaps he had not heard me. Finally, he glanced down at me and smiled that familiar smile I had been longing to see.

“Since you came to Faerie, her powers haven’t been that strong. She’s disorganized, and I managed to slip through the cracks when she wasn’t looking. But we have to keep moving, or she’ll find me and I might not be able to get away again,” he replied.

I frowned. Part of me mistrusted his answer. Why would the Faerie Queen allow her favourite to slip through the cracks? Of all the faeries, I thought Fynn would be the most difficult to ignore. I opened my mouth to ask him, when he suddenly raised a hand. Behind me, I heard Jakob and Cyrus come to a halt and slowly slide their weapons free. I was beginning to sense the spirits around me once more, although they were still reluctant.

Ahead of us, some bushes rustled. They were too loud for it to be an ambush, and I realized that whoever was ahead of us probably had no idea we were there. If it was a Huryl soldier, Fynn would be on him in an instant, with Jakob probably not too far behind. Xair had also mentioned that there were Dyrel wandering about after the destruction of Oponoe. I bit my lip and hoped for a friendly face.

I was not disappointed. As the bushes parted, a figure toppled through. He was tanned and muscular, but short, and his face was entirely covered by a mass of wavy brown hair. He fell to his hands and knees before us and raised his head, revealing a bushy brown beard and bright green eyes that stared directly at me.

“Will!” I gasped, pushing my way past Fynn to kneel in front of him. “Will, are you all right?”

A confused expression passed over his face, something that looked almost like relief and puzzlement at the same time. He bowed his head for a moment, then returned his gaze to mine.

“Flee! The dogs are out hunting the goats. We mustn’t keep the lady waiting, or the lord will be displeased,” Will said, leaping to his feet and pulling me to mine.

“What happened, Will? Did the Huryl catch you?” I asked.

Again, he hesitated and I wondered if he understood what I had asked. Instead, he began to pull at my arm, bringing me deeper into the forest. The others followed without saying a word.

“Will, I need to ask you about the silver acorn,” I said. “You told me about it before, didn’t you? When we were captured by Mattis in the desert, and when we left the world of Faerie. Do you know where it is?”

“I do,” Will whispered, dropping my hand and bowing his head, his back to me. “You must hate me.”

Fynn, Jakob, and Cyrus had been left behind, and I could hear them hurrying to catch up as Will spoke. I was taken aback at his sudden rationality, when only seconds before he had been caught up in his madness.

“I don’t hate you, Will,” I assured him. “You must have had a reason for taking the acorn.”

“The silver acorn?” Cyrus spoke up as he caught up to us. “This is the Huryl soldier responsible for stealing the acorn and starting this war?”

“And bringing Leila to this world,” Jakob added, “or so the elves told us.”

Cyrus laughed sharply. I saw Will clench one of his hands into a fist and squeeze it tightly, but I said nothing. He was torn inside, that much I could see, but he was my friend and I wanted to help him, no matter what.

“This way,” Will said suddenly, turning and grinning at the others. “The party’s ahead and the soup is asking about you. Hurry! Hurry!”

“Wait a minute,” Cyrus said, shaking his head. “We’re going to follow this traitor? It doesn’t even sound like he knows where he is, never mind the acorn. The Dyrel fortress is not far. We can head there, get some reinforcements and supplies, and map out our route.”

“And do you know where the acorn is?” Fynn asked coldly.

Cyrus paled a little but held his ground. “It’s probably with the Huryl in Oponoe. They must have used it to breach the city’s walls.”

“The parrot speaks but does the cracker hear?” Will asked. “The dogs are barking! Giddy up!”

I looked helplessly at Fynn and Jakob. Should we travel to the Dyrel fort, and from there make our way back to Oponoe; or should we follow Will, who claimed to know where the acorn was?