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I knew which direction we’d arrived in relation to the communal cavern. I didn’t stop to look back at the arched entrances in the rock behind me and followed the lanterns back out. The air felt the same as that in the valley, if a little sweeter for the knowledge of what I was doing. I couldn’t turn around now, or I’d never get myself this far again.
It was still afternoon, though only a small amount of light made its way into the tunnels. I noticed each difference on the way out, the lighter shade of rock around me, the tufts of life along the pathway, the damper air. By the time I reached the familiar clearing, I’d nearly turned back three times, the memory of the attack when we’d arrived still in my periphery. I remained cautious but it was brighter than I’d expected, as if my disposition added to the lightness. The border of the woods flattened at one point and led away in the direction I vaguely remembered us coming.
The clearing held the same quiet as the valley, breeze and birdsong. I hoped to be able to hear a road, one that I hadn’t noticed on the way in, but only discerned how empty it was out there. I felt my breath deepen, in anticipation of meeting a patrol or someone trying to get in. I didn’t wait around. Happy to follow my instincts, I immediately headed into the ferns. Branches and leaves from past years carpeted the woods, but between the gaps of the trees, delicate flowers of lilac and periwinkle emerged from patches of their own foliage.
It was still light enough for me to take the path faster than I normally would have, and I hopped over the occasional fallen bough, trying to remain alert to what was around me. I didn’t know what else to expect, from the reports that circulated in the caverns. Anyone would have expected an attack by now.
I didn’t know which direction I headed in. Through the leaves above, the overcast sky hid any clues given from the sun. When the clouds began to absorb the light, growing heavy, I slowed my pace. I only had the memory of how long we’d walked before to guide me, and I wasn’t even too confident in that. When we arrived just over a few months ago, there had been a river we stopped at along the way where Áine had refilled her water. Much of the forest had filled out, enjoying the summer, transforming it, and I began to doubt my direction when I finally heard water. I didn’t think it was far to my van from that point. Finding my way down the stair-like roots, I gave another glance around the trees to check for any followers before stepping down onto the stony bank for a drink.
The water ran swiftly, vibrant weeds at the bottom snapped in the rush. I hadn’t carried a bottle with me and hadn’t thought to trade for one of their flasks. Crouching down, I let the water overflow the cup of my hands and drained it. Repeating the process, I knew I needed to get on the road soon. I’d have little hope of finding anything at all if any more light faded above me.
I moved to stand, thinking about how certain I was in my direction, when the world shimmered around me.
I held myself up against the air, hands spread, wondering if I was more dehydrated than I thought. It wasn’t dizziness— the air swayed as if a piece of glass moved around me. My focus escaped with it, but the surrounding colours seemed to call me back with their vibrancy. Standing still for a moment, I tried to get my thoughts together enough to decide if I could just keep going. I felt my focus jumping, any movement around me intensified as if held under water. My heartbeat moved in time with every leaf flutter or bird.
Was it possible for the Unseelie to lay sickness like a trap?
I took a deep breath, one of my hands flattened against the key in my pocket as I straightened. I’d been willing to simply let whatever was going to happen, happen, when I left a couple of hours ago. I tried to hold onto that feeling.
I peered over to the river briefly, justifying that I’d looked at the state of the water before drinking it. Rocks danced at the edge where it rippled into deeper shades of forest. Clear enough and fast enough.
But... running in the same direction I was going... away from the cave system that hid the first gate. Was it possible something had happened? Was that something the Seelie would have warned me about? I backed up against a tree, glad for its strength, even though I hadn’t realised I’d moved.
The trickling of the water got louder, and, like everything else around me, the movement of its tide quickened and shifted. Aiming to start moving again, in hopes of finding something else to drink in my van, I found myself frozen instead.
I couldn’t say how long I tried to focus on the folding water. I was just as aware of all the smaller movements that had distracted me moments ago. There was blackness— it couldn’t have been long really because the remaining light was still holding on when I came to. It could have been an extended blink.
When I could distinguish what I was seeing again, I noticed that I was laying down. I mentally checked my body. I didn’t feel any pain, and thought I still recognised my foot from my hand. After trying to move my hands to push myself up, I was reminded that only “moments” ago, I’d been frozen. I still couldn’t move. The world went quiet. After ironically wondering if anyone might pass and how long it might be, I felt my panic set in.
It wasn’t long before a shadow passed into view. My blood raced again. Had the darkness found me so quickly?
The longer I focused on it, the more it slowly sharpened into a straight figured woman. She was vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place her. Leaning over me, her eyebrow raised in an otherwise disinterested face. Long dark hair fell limp against her pallor. Her mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear the words she was saying. She motioned to someone else outside my sight line, and a moment later, I felt pressure on my arms as someone helped me lean up. The blood pounding in my ears fell away enough for me to hear other people pacing behind me.
The woman knelt in front of me and, voice dampened, she said, “It will be okay.”
She took my hand and then plunged it into the same river I’d just drunk from.
I don’t fully trust my memories from the moments in between. One moment we were in the woods and the next, the trees had cleared. It could have been the same place in a different course of decisions. The land was still uncared for, but it looked as if it had been farmed up until recently.
As I slipped in and out of consciousness, it occurred to me that one of these blackouts could be it for me, and I wouldn’t know. I could still see the dark-haired woman who’d spoken to me before. I tried to use her like an anchor when I awoke in between. I would make sure that she was still somewhere nearby. My arms were being held as I stumbled along behind her.
Every time my consciousness surfaced, I felt too dull to panic. I forced my eyes to move, to take in as much as I could, to remember it if I had to. I kept trying to raise my head, to look at who was beside me, to gain anything extra from our surroundings, to find anyone else, to chase away the numbness.
There were other people that moved in and out of my sight— those with predatory features and sharp teeth. Occasionally I could make out a burbled sentence between them, the tones extending like a bad recording. Some part of me clung to the possibility that Lunete had called the group to retrieve me but the more I saw of the landscape, the more I realised how far we had travelled. And I had no idea how to get back.
The farmland around us grew more shapes, some which could be nothing more than rubble or piles of charcoal. When whole buildings weaved before me, there were more figures, but none drew near enough for me to see them properly. The colour of the ground shifted from the less-trodden green to dirty paths of fitted stone. With no help from my unfocused eyes, I tried to concentrate on what I was hearing more. It was still as if I was underwater and, whilst I could understand a passing amount of Sindaric by that point, the words I heard were broadened further with accent.
At this point, I wondered if my numbness was a secret blessing and if any terror I was supposed to be feeling was also being suppressed. I watched but, inside, I knew I wouldn’t be able to do anything with the coldness seeping into my limbs.
We eventually arrived somewhere, the walls rising up around my eyes. There were still other figures around, except they hurried past, and what I saw around my shoes seemed cleaner. We came to a stop at the entrance of a large room, the span of it disappearing past what I could see. Figures moved from a large object in the centre. Murmuring came to a stop, and the group’s presence was enough to pause what was going on.
“My Lord, may I introduce the gatekeeper that your shade discovered?”
A disturbance stopped as soon as it started. Some of the peripheral spectators were keen to follow what was happening. One figure drew nearer. I could see that they were tall, and they stopped in front of the woman to my left— the one who had spoken to me before, seemingly the one who was in charge of this little group. They were slender and had dark skin like the prime sisters. He looked at me before leaning towards the woman and murmured something to her. I couldn’t make out what was said, but I also couldn’t hear any indication that the surrounding people had either.
The woman stepped back and her figure turned suddenly. Walking quickly, she entered my field of vision and, just as swiftly, raised a hand to those beside me. We all moved, heading back the way we’d come and reentered the dark halls. Through the coldness I felt and my mind’s disconnection, I knew there was something obvious I was missing. It was only when I awoke again that the depth of my situation hit me.