The flash of light that erupts in my eyes causes me to squint even though it is dark here. It takes me a moment to remember my situation as a state of confusion overcomes me.
“Where do you take me?” I ask, my voice hoarse and broken. My hands are bound tightly above me around a large branch that passes through the gap in my arms, and a strong fae male walks ahead of me, carrying the wood on his shoulder. I cannot see who is behind me but imagine another fae does the same from there. My head throbs where I was struck, and blood trickles down my face, dripping off the tip of my nose. My corrupted arm is in agony, my sleeve dropping to my elbow revealing the state it is in now. My skin is breaking where the thick black veins protrude, my arm reddening. It is as though my blood has been replaced with tar, and where the bindings dig into my skin it feels as though my wrists are clasped in red-hot irons. My feet drag behind me and I attempt to plant them, allowing me to walk, but I do not have the strength in my arms. The fae talk to one another in a tongue that I cannot decipher. Judging by the fact that I am still alive, I assume that they are intending to take me to whoever it is that leads them.
Panic overcomes me as I realise my satchel is not around my neck. I search franticly for it. Not so much for the elixirs but for the spellbook. I have not been parted from it since the day I was asked to transcribe it by Jareb. My surroundings are a mixture of blurred greens, my vision not fully returned. After a few minutes of searching, I see my satchel wrapped around a fae female who has one hand placed delicately on the top of it, the other firmly grasping a spear. Her eyes meet mine and she hisses at me in disapproval, causing me to look away in shame. There is something about those elixirs that they do not like, something that has offended them.
A shooting pain travels down my corrupted arm to my shoulders, and without any say in the matter a cry of pain leaves my lips. I quickly realise that the fae in front is taking great pleasure in jarring the wood so that my bindings press into my skin.
Large rows of homes created from the trees come into view, suspended in the air and with varying walkways, one of which the fae follow, taking us high into the trees, far higher than I thought possible. The varying tree huts are well crafted and constructed, their circular shapes swathed in canopies of trees that help blend them in to their natural backgrounds. As I am dragged over the suspended walkway, scores of fae adults, children, and adolescents, all of varying sizes and colours, stop to see the spectacle before them. I may not know their language, but I can see from their faces and the way they shield their younglings that they are afraid of me. They do not want their young to see me. Some escape to their perfectly crafted homes, some run down alternative walkways, while others stand their ground, fixing me with stares and growls of disapproval.
I pray for our journey to end as my arm screams with agony, the pain becoming unbearable. A bead of sweat traces down the congealed blood that decorates my face like war paint. It feels like we are moving for an age as we continue to traverse the walkways farther into where they live. It soon becomes apparent to me that this is not a village, it is a kingdom. An entire kingdom, an entire race of people living in the trees, that by my estimate equals the size of Askela, maybe even surpassing it. If not for my precarious position I would be in awe of it: columns of houses embedded into the largest trees I have ever seen, reaching above and below us. As I look down at the walkway, a funny feeling greets me as I am not familiar with these heights. I can see the ground far down below, but I cannot make out any details. I think this is the highest I have ever been, and a strange, sinking feeling greets me in the pit of my stomach. One that feels more like a warning than anything else.
The walkways all interconnect, some large and thick where multiple people can pass, some small and thin only big enough for one. The fae dart up and down them with ease as if walking a path on the ground. In this moment I am actually grateful for being bound and dragged, as at least this helps me feel grounded and less likely to fall over the sides. As we travel farther inside the kingdom, large birds fly past, sending gusts of air that blow my matted hair from my face. They are as big as horses, and to my surprise, a group of fae sits atop them in a way I would mount a steed. I dare not blink in case I miss anything. Insects the size of mice flutter uncontrollably in the tailwind of the large birds. Their wings are like bees but they are colourful like butterflies, large antennae circling from their heads. They buffet around for a moment before regaining their composure and fluttering off to sit on the base of a branch. A large fae woman rushes at them and shoes them away with a blanket, not appreciative of them taking a rest in front of her home.
The sections of wood on the walkways knock against the tops of my boots and I try again to raise myself to my feet, but I fail again. I am aching everywhere.
Ahead of us looms a large construct like nothing I have ever seen, like a castle made from wood. It sits at the highest point of the trees, looking out across the rest of the fae kingdom. I take a deep inhale of breath as my eyes dart around the castle, unable to comprehend the workmanship and the skill to craft such a thing. Large turret towers look as though they have been carved from wood, and what I think are stones turn out to be detailed intricate carvings etched into the wall. An arch bows above the wall that connects the two turret towers, with perches protruding from the front. Sitting atop the perch are the riders, complete with birds standing guard.
What an interesting concept, having bird riders be the first line of defence against any attackers. I count five all standing guard, the birds that the fae ride upon keeping a beady eye on things that are going on below. One of them stands tall and spreads out its wings, demonstrating an impressive wingspan. Another swoops down from the top of the perch and lands in front of us, blocking our path. This one looks like a giant crow, its feathers as black as the night. It too spreads out its wings as if telling my captors to stop. They do, and the fae sporting me bow their heads to the rider.
The leader of our group exchanges words with the rider, who casts me a look of disgust. Then she pulls on the harness of her bird, and it propels itself upwards with tremendous force, the gust of air it generates taking me by surprise as it presses against me. The bird and its rider disappear over the top of the castle walls, and our party continues the ascent to the highest point of the kingdom to stand before the castle gates. They stand tall, about thirty feet high, made of wood and wrapped with vines for reinforcement. The wood is finely crafted and sculpted into position, with the tips of the gates intertwined as though the wood still lives as it binds itself into shape.
There is a mechanical noise as the gate lowers down in front of us like a drawbridge. The last of the walkway rocks as it slams into the ground, allowing us entry.
Beyond the gates, two riders stand in the centre of a large open space. Between them stands a fae woman whose skin is as pale as snow, almost as if it has a blueish tinge to it. Her pointed ears are pierced with delicate chains that flow from the top to the bottom of her lobes. A thin crown pins her dark hair in place atop her head, and the rest flows down her shoulder freely.
Suddenly my mouth feels dry. I am in the company of fae royalty.
Her long, elegant gown flows gracefully to the ground, covering her feet. Her arms are bare, revealing the same tree-like tattoos that the other fae have. But unlike the others’, hers shine as if the ink itself is crafted from silver. Her beauty mesmerises me, and I find myself drawn to the natural aura that she radiates.
We stand in a pristine courtyard where finely polished stone graces the floor as though it has just been laid, untainted or scuffed from heavy feet. Around us, wildflowers have been allowed to grow over seats and railings that only serves to further amplify the beauty of this kingdom. Behind this mysterious fae queen I can see a fountain with the most elegant of statues in the centre. What looks like three fae maidens are busy scooping up water into buckets which they then disappear from view with.
The party stops in front of her, and suddenly I feel far heavier than before. As my back arches, the pressure becomes worse, and I drag my feet so I can at least hold myself up in a standing position. My arms remain suspended in the air as I stand to attention, paraded in front of the fae woman.
The group leader speaks loudly and clearly, announcing why it is they are here, and I am taken aback by this strangely human formality. The fae that carries my satchel moves forward, removing it from over her neck and passing it to this fae queen. The queen reaches in and takes out the spellbook, tracing her fingers over its surface before sniffing the pages deeply. Next, she is handed the elixirs, and her perplexed expression turns into one of utter confusion and then anger.
The queen glides across the floor towards me with surprising speed as if walking on air, almost spirit-esque. Her face changes from a picture of beauty to one of sharpened teeth and rage.
My heart drums even louder as her snarling face draws far closer to mine than I would have liked.
“Fredu, radia trevortee jeru,” she says, slowly and concisely. I have no clue to the words she speaks, just as with the others. She turns and glowers at the leader of this group before meeting my gaze again. Her eyes could have been carved from diamonds, and her skin seems to sparkle, though maybe it’s a trick of the light. Her snarling expression tells me that she is far more dangerous than her beautiful, jewel-like appearance suggests.
She opens her mouth again, this time speaking words that I understand clearly. “Tell me, wizard, what have you done with Aruya?” She pulls a curved knife from the back of her belt and quickly presses this against my neck. I feel the sting of the blade against my skin as my nerves start to get the better of me. This is as close to death as I have ever felt, the afterlife threatening to greet me at any moment.
“Tell me what you have done with my daughter!”