The Chosen of Anthros Page 10

  “Have you ever tried it?” Skye asked.

  “Yes, while I was traveling with Celeste when I first arrived here.” It was strange for Abagail to think of arriving in Agaranth from O. So much had happened since she’d come to the strange new world. She’d met so many creatures and beings and learned so much about wyrd that she would never have learned about or met on O. The worlds were so different from one another. It was almost like she was living in a dream.

  “And did you die?” Skye asked.

  “I nearly died several times,” Abagail reminded him. “Many times while in your company.”

  He nudged her with his shoulder laughter clear in his violet eyes. Abagail stumbled and nearly fell over a barrel outside the barn. Only his hand clasping her gloved hand kept her from falling.

  “See, and here you go again trying to kill me!”

  “I remember darklings and your plague going rampant, I don’t ever remember me trying to kill you,” Skye said. “I even remember you nearly killing us a few times because of your plague, but never me trying to off you.” He helped steady her, but he didn’t remove his hand. Abagail was okay with that. The butterflies were back in her stomach, tickling places low in her abdomen. She didn’t want to move her hand too suddenly or the elf might notice he was still holding her hand and drop it.

  She liked the way it felt, her hand in his.

  Skye tightened his hand and the butterflies swirled higher. He might end up killing me after all, she thought. If not intentionally than from the effect he has on me.

  Abagail pulled herself out of her thoughts and back to the present. They were walking again, she hadn’t noticed that. What she had noticed was Skye wasn’t shying from her hand. He’d said last night that he wasn’t scared of her plague, and it seemed that he was proving that now.

  It’s not like he can catch it through the glove, she thought.

  “You’re inside your head,” Skye said.

  “I’m sorry,” Abagail said. She focused her attention on the twilight darkened path before them. They were heading out of the upper rim of Haven and into a large copse of trees between New Landanten and the village of harbingers.

  “Why do you do that so much?” Skye wondered.

  “What is it that I do?” Abagail asked him, glancing over at the elf. His eyes were fast on her face.

  “Retreat inside your head, as if you like it better there than you do out here with everyone else.”

  She shrugged. The trees were coming up fast. It was an evergreen forest. Snow clung heavily to the boughs of the trees, but the path into the forest was clear like any wood road she may have tread around her own home on O.

  “I don’t know. I must be good company?” she said with a smile.

  “Well, I think so. At least, when you talk.” He smirked.

  Abagail looked away from the elf’s face as a blush reddened her cheeks. She stumbled over a root that she hadn’t seen there before. Again, Skye caught her.

  “Or when you do something stupid like that,” he said. He laughed and steadied her. “Don’t worry, as long as you can keep your feet from killing you for a few more moments, we will be where I wanted to show you.”

  “If you remember, you’re the one that shoved me into the barrel.”

  “I shoved you?” Skye smiled at her. “No, it was a playful nudge.”

  “I think you may be more dark elf than light elf. You’re working for them, aren’t you?” she wondered.

  He splayed his free hand against his chest. “You caught me. I bring all the pretty harbingers out here and slay them where no one will ever find their bodies. It’s a fault of mine.”

  “I knew this was all too good to be true,” Abagail said. “But I think I could probably take you.”

  “You do, huh?”

  “Yea. I’m bigger than you and probably faster.”

  “I’m taller than you, and you’re not faster than my little elf light show that I can do.”

  “Hmm,” Abagail itched her chin thoughtfully. “Well, I will just get angry and create a big plague cloud and put an end to your flittering about.”

  Skye laughed a loud laugh and pulled her closer to him. Abagail let him. Again she was painfully aware of the heat his body was putting off. There was a smell about him too, a smell like lavender that mingled with the woodsy scent of the darkening forest around them.

  In the distance Abagail could see spots of light bloom in the underbrush. Pinpoints of yellows and vibrant greens that blended in with the leaves. Reds and blue lights flickered in the tree branches around them and a strange laughter, almost like the tinkling of bells made her breath catch.

  Abagail stopped and looked at the fairytale wood that Skye was leading her through. It was coming to life.

  “Fey,” Abagail breathed. “There’s so many of them.”

  A branch in the depths of the woods before her snapped. Her eyes focused on a point far off the path where the noise had come from. She was being watched by a short boy, naked from the waist up. From the waist down he wasn’t a boy, but a goat.

  “He’s a faun,” Skye told her, stepping up behind her.

  Her head was spinning with all of the new life she was seeing.

  “When the darklings took over the Fey Forest, all of these woodland beings had to have somewhere to go. They aren’t fit for buildings and towns. They need the life force of the woods to sustain them. The elves, both light and dark, banded together to grow this forest for them. It wasn’t always here, but with seeds and saplings from the Fey Forest, we were able to create this one.”

  “This isn’t real?” Abagail asked. “This forest isn’t natural?”

  “Of course it’s natural,” Skye chortled. “Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

  “But you used wyrd to create it,” she said.

  “Wyrd runs through everything. All we did was influenced the wyrd within the plants to take root and flourish.”

  “What else is in here?” Abagail wondered. She turned to Skye, her face lighting up. “Are there dryads and nymphs?”

  “Do they live in forests?” Skye looked confused for a moment. It took Abagail longer than it should have to realize he was making fun of her. She slapped his shoulder when he started laughing at her. “Of course there are nymphs and dryads here, but they don’t often show themselves.”

  “So this is where Daphne lives?” Abagail wondered, looking up at all of the sparkling lights flitting about in the branches above her.

  “Daphne is out with Celeste right now,” Skye told her. “But yes, when she’s home, this is where she lives.”

  “Where did Celeste go?” Abagail asked him. He took her hand again and led her further into the woods.

  “Secret elf stuff,” he told her. “I’m not really sure what she’s doing, I just know she was sent off to the south.”

  “More harbingers?” Abagail wondered.

  “It’s likely, but we don’t normally get harbingers coming through here that often. You were the first in a long time.”

  “Unless things are happening.”

  “And what things would that be?” Skye asked her.

  Abagail shrugged. She was sorry she brought it up. It was a thought that darkened the woods around her; reminded her of why the nature spirits had to be moved from the Fey Forest and to this new forest.

  “From the look on your face, it’s probably something that would ruin our evening,” Skye said.

  Abagail nodded.

  “So, I told you about Mari and me.”

  “You did,” Abagail agreed.

  “Maybe you’d like to tell me about Rorick and you?” Skye slowed their pace as they approached a large lake that took up the center of the forest. The canopy of trees opened up above the lake allowing the clear sky above to shine starlight onto the surface. The water sparkled as if Abagail was looking up into the sky rather than the darkened depths of the lake.

  Around the lake multitudes of points of light shimmered as the fey came to rest
in random spots on the shore of the lake. Skye led her to a large boulder covered with moss and Abagail sat.

  “I thought you didn’t want to ruin our evening,” Abagail said.

  He shrugged. “The question has ruined many hours for me.”

  “And why’s that?” Abagail wondered.

  “You’re avoiding my question.”

  Abagail sighed. “There isn’t much to tell,” she told him. “We’ve been neighbors and friends for a long time. At one point I thought Rorick was the man I would settle down with. Well, I had hoped he’d be the man I’d settle down with. I was never sure if he thought the same thing about me.”

  “What changed?” Skye asked, sitting on the ground at her feet. The lights of the fey around them seemed to reflect in his eyes. Abagail was reminded how different from her Skye was. How he was a different being. He was born of sunlight and music. She was made of…what? What were humans made of? Dirt?

  Flesh and blood, Abagail thought. Just like him.

  “You can tell me,” Skye said, inaccurately reading her thoughts.

  “His parents were killed by darklings the same day I was infected with the shadow plague. Since then he’s only been able to think of destroying all darklings.”

  “What about you?”

  “Me too. I told him if I ever turned into a darkling he was to kill me,” Abagail said.

  “I won’t let that happen,” Skye said. “Neither will the harbingers. You will learn here, and you will be strong.”

  “The waking eye,” Abagail said, looking down at her gloved hand.

  “May I?” he asked, indicating her glove. She wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, but she nodded. Her breath caught in her throat when he reached for the glove, but she didn’t pull her hand away. He tugged at the fingers, and the glove slipped off her hand, inch by inch.

  Abagail turned her head away, not wanting to see the shadowy blemish on her flesh. The stain that marked her as cursed.

  “You don’t accept what’s happened to you, do you?” Skye asked.

  “I can’t. It’s dirty and impure,” she said.

  “Or it’s full of light.”

  Abagail looked into Skye’s violet eyes, searching for the meaning to what he said.

  “This plague can destroy, or it can protect. It’s not one way or another. You choose. It can be dirty and impure, or it can be a blessing and a weapon against the darkling tide.”

  Abagail worried the edge of her lip. She hadn’t thought of it that way.

  “But at any rate, it has gone down,” he told her.

  “What?” she looked down at her hand. Skye placed his hand on the back of her plagued hand, and helped lift her palm up for her to see.

  “Last night I could see the shadows around your wrist, creeping up over the edge of your glove. Tonight, the plague is only on your palm.”

  Abagail stared at her hand, unable to say a word. She was aware of Skye’s hand on the back of her plagued one. The hand no one had touched gloveless in weeks. It hadn’t really been all that long, but the sensation of flesh on her hand stirred emotions deep inside of her that she didn’t even know had been buried.

  Tears sprang to her eyes.

  “But…how?” she asked.

  Skye shrugged. “Mari used to say that wyrd worked through deep emotion. Must be your emotions tonight have fought back the shadow plague.” His lips curved in a smile. “What’s so different about today that would have made your emotions fight back the plague?”

  Abagail’s mind didn’t pick up on the joke. “Fear and anger always bring the plague out.”

  “So the opposite must force it back,” Skye said. He closed her hand over her darkened palm. With her hand balled up in a loose fist, she couldn’t even tell she had the shadow plague.

  Skye closed both of his hands over hers.

  “I’m glad we came here tonight,” he told her. “I’m glad we talked. I foresee that I will have less troubled hours now, thinking about Rorick.”

  “Do you think about Rorick often?” Abagail asked. She smiled. “I could put in a good word for you with him.”

  Skye scoffed. “I think I expressed myself pretty well on our journey with the back of my hand.”

  Abagail nodded. “I think you got your feelings across.”

  “At any rate, we should get you home. Early morning tomorrow.”

  Skye handed the glove back to her as Abagail stood. She didn’t bother putting it back on though. It felt nice to have her hand open to the night air. She slipped the glove into a pocket in her jacket.

  Skye smiled at the gesture, and slipped his hand into her left hand; the one without the plague. He twined his fingers with hers, and they were headed out of the forest once more, the fey dancing merrily in the night around them.

  “We will have to come back here,” Abagail said, leaning her head on his shoulder and taking in all the sites.

  He slipped his arm around her and she felt him nod into her hair.

  What am I? Leona wondered, staring at the silver scar on her hand. She eased herself further into the tub until the water touched her bottom lip. Still she didn’t take her gaze off her hand. Hafaress? But that was stupid.

  What did Fortarian mean that darklings weren’t the only ones good at lying? She shook her head. It was almost as if he meant she really was his niece, but they’d already established that her father wasn’t really a Bauer. Then how could I be a Bauer if father isn’t a Bauer?

  But Fortarian was just a darkling, like Daniken. They wove lies. That’s how they worked, by confusing the mind and manipulating people to their side. She’d been manipulated before by Daniken, and had almost killed Abagail in the process.

  Leona squeezed her eyes shut and sank beneath the water. She let the heat of the tub relax her body, and she pushed the troubling thoughts from her mind.

  Leona came out of the bathroom in a cloud of fragrance and steam. She wasn’t limping as bad now as she had been before the long soak in the hot tub. “Ephram really gave me a workout today,” she complained.

  “Who’s Ephram?” Abagail wondered.

  “The quartermaster. He seems to want me as his protégé,” her sister said, leaning against the counter beside where Abagail toiled over the stove.

  “How was your night with Skye?” Leona asked, her voice hinting that she thought something more than walking happened.

  “It was nice,” Abagail said. She couldn’t hide her smile.

  “Good!” Leona said. “You deserve to have fun. What did you do?”

  Abagail told Leona about going to the new Fey Forest and seeing all of the fey. She told her about Skye, and how he was rather interested in her and Rorick’s relationship. She left out some of the more romantic overtones. She was sure Leona was already building a better story in her head than actually happened anyway.

  “A new Fey Forest, filled with fey? You have to show me!” Leona said. “I really want to see it!”

  Abagail chuckled. “We will go soon.”

  “What are you cooking?” Leona peered into the pan.

  “I made your favorite,” Abagail told her, looking at her younger sister wrapped in a large blue robe.

  “Milk and honey?” Leona guessed, a smile ghosting across her lips. “Oh dear All Father Abbie, I haven’t had milk and honey since we were at home before the bees got sick.”

  Abagail smiled and poured a good portion of the drink into a stone mug for Leona. Her sister took it, her eyes rolling up to the ceiling in delight. “This is perfect. And you,” she said, looking at the mug, “you’re going in my belly.”

  Abagail laughed, poured herself a mug of the milk and joined Leona on the large sofa before the roaring fire. It was a cold night out, and the fire was very welcoming. It was also part of the reason Abagail had used the stove in the kitchen for the milk; to help heat the house.

  “What’s that smell?” Abagail asked, blowing on her milk.

  “Heaven,” Leona said, taking a sip of hers.

&n
bsp; “No, the soap you used?”

  “Oh, Rowan helped me make some shampoo today in the greenhouse. It’s eucalyptus and lavender.”

  Abagail nodded, and silence passed for some time while they enjoyed their drink and the fire.

  “Abbie,” Leona finally asked. “Do you think it’s going to happen again tonight?”

  “What’s that? The fire?”

  Leona nodded.

  Abagail shrugged. “There’s no way for me to really tell. I’ve been having strange dreams lately.”

  “Was Rowan right, were they about Muspelheim?” Leona wondered.

  Abagail frowned. “How did you know?”

  “Besides the way you acted when she said the name? I’ve had a similar dream,” Leona confessed.

  Abagail sat up straighter, turning her full attention to her sister.

  “It was a strange dream. I saw Surt making the God Slayer. I saw Hafaress going to Muspelheim.” Leona shook her head. “It was a bad dream. But it never caused any fires.”

  Abagail’s eyebrows furrowed in thought. “I’ve been having dreams about the All Father.”

  Leona didn’t seem phased by the declaration.

  “I saw how he lost his eye. I saw him going into Muspelheim and talking to Surt also.”

  “About what?” Leona wondered. “What did he have to talk to Surt about?”

  “A weapon of some sort. Some kind of hooked spear that would help him correct a mistake he made.” Abagail stared deep into her mug as if the milk would show her why he needed the weapon in the first place.

  “I don’t like Surt,” Leona said.

  Abagail shook her head. “I got the feeling from him that the fire-etin are largely misunderstood. He didn’t seem bad in my dream.”

  “In mine he killed the mortal Hafaress was in love with in order to make the hammer.”

  “Oh,” Abagail said. That didn’t seem to fit well with the Surt she’d seen in her dream. “At any rate, I’ve only had the one dream of Muspelheim. They seem to be following a story, and not happening very often. I don’t think it’s anything we have to worry about. Besides, now I have this bulky collar here that chafes my neck and makes it hard to move around. I think we should be safe.”

  “There’s more than that,” Leona said. She took a drink of her milk letting the silence lengthen in the room. She couldn’t really be sure what she’d seen that morning with Huginn and Muninn. After so much time had passed it almost seemed like the vision wasn’t anything at all. Time and distance from the seeing made it seem less real, like maybe she’d made it up.