Constant throbbing pain in Nariah’s wounded leg began as only an annoyance. As the carriage wheels snagged stones or sank into the dirt road, each jarring movement sent a spike of agony all the way down to her toes. She tried to lie down with her back to the floor and her feet propped on top of the seats, but that offered only the briefest breath of relief.
The enchanted coach and its other-worldly pair of horses went faster than a standard coach by at least two to three times, but the speed only made the carriage jerk harder when a wheel struck something. Nariah could hardly stand any position in the coach. She needed to tend to her wound, but had neither the skill nor the strength to do so. At least the bleeding had slowed.
Sleep tempted her with thoughts of escape from her physical distress, but rewarded her with feverish, destruction-laced nightmares instead. The king’s dying words haunted her. It made no sense—a goddess of Mercy advocating for the destruction of an entire kingdom in order to purge a tainted few. What could have stained her people so badly that even Mercy had no grace left to show their broken souls?
Even Nariah, after all she had been through, believed they could be different.
Didn’t she?
The golden guard’s damnation of her calling, her very identity, stood out sharply in her mind. The doubts he’d sown in her thoughts sliced through her just as painfully as the wound he’d left in her leg.
Her stomach grumbled and her bladder ached. Without remembering which words Karma had used to start the horses on their path, though, she dared not stop or get out of the carriage to relieve herself or forage for food. Not that she could have stopped a pair of magically-guided horses anyway though, she reckoned.
Throwing open the curtains, she was relieved to see that they were rounding the outskirts of the Gordospian woods to the southeast of Frierfeld. These horses were smart, she gave them that. Normal carriages and horses would be foolish to attempt a passing through the Gordospian woods during the day, when the beasts ran rampant and bandits lay in wait for any passersby.
At night, though, when the goddesses’ druantia guardian brought the trees to life with her flute, the beasts of the daylight slept, and the bandits dared not show their faces. The druantia judged the heart, the legends said. Wicked souls would be banished from the forest in an instant, forced from an unlucky person’s body at the command of the druantia’s flute.
The only way through the horned maiden of the woods’ lands at night was to convince her of the purity behind your heart’s greatest desire. If it was truly found pure in her eyes, she would grant safety within a village of fairies for rest, and safe passage night and day for the remainder of the blessed traveler’s trip.
But what was Nariah’s greatest desire?
To be free? To win back the respect and adoration of the people that she’d lost so many years ago? Or truly to save them, even if they never accepted their princess as their future leader again?
Focusing on saving lives, Nariah resolved herself to let the rest of her destiny fall where it may. Irony had one scheme planned for her. The lords, doubtless, had another. But they were all, deep down, just as selfish as the mortals who served them. The druantia had no need for power, for worship, of visions. If anyone would help Nariah save a multitude of lives, it would be the Lady of the Woods.
Shoving aside her earlier doubts, Nariah opened both the curtains and poked her head outside the window as the carriage crossed into the shadow of the forest. Straining her ears and bouncing painfully in her seat because of her overly full bladder, Nariah longed to hear the call of the druantia’s flute among the trees.
Birds of all kinds chirped their songs, bidding farewell to the day they’d left behind. Twilight settled over the land, bringing a stillness like the holding of a breath before a plunge into darkness. Far above her, soaring in circles, a large bird cawed twice.
Keet.
Nariah cursed as she looked back over her shoulder down the faint trail. In the distance, not walking upon the trail but hovering above it, she could make out Lily the panda’s white and black fur growing quickly closer. Nariah cursed again, throwing her back against the cushioned seat and closing her eyes in prayer… but to whom could she even pray?
The penalty for horse theft was worse than death. An eternity bearing the brand of an upside-down horseshoe on one’s forehead, their tongue violently gouged from their mouth, and a life shackled to the stable floors ahead of them. The rest of their days, the thief would muck out the stalls and care for the horses of the one they’d wronged. Each night, the victim of the theft was permitted to lash the thief—one strike for each half-hour their steed had been gone—in full view of any bored neighbor or family member who cared to watch. Without their tongue, the victims could scarcely even scream through their pain.
Horse thefts were rare, for those very reasons. Only a truly desperate soul would dare take on such a risk. The lords knew Nariah had been desperate enough, but they were still lords. Surely she would find no more mercy from them than she would at the hands of a mortal.
She knew her father’s soul was worth both the horses, but now that her rage and adrenaline had worn down, the looming reality that Lily was bringing lords to retake what she’d stolen froze her to her seat. Was this how Ellonai would fall? Unprotected, abandoned by even its king, while the lords doomed her to an eternity of service for her sins? Her nails bit into her shaking fists. She couldn’t bear it. Not when she was this close.
Rising with renewed vigor, she threw the carriage open and leaned out.
“Oh, divine Lady of the Wood!” she cried. “Hear the plea of thine servant! Grant me sanctuary within your living walls! Darkness chases me, death lies ahead, and I am undone!”
None of the goddesses or lords had turned out to be as altruistic as she’d hoped the divine beings would be. But in this moment, in her heart of hearts, she knew the druantia would be different. With no agendas, no reason to live but to cherish life itself, this being would see beneath the powers she could exploit in the former princess.
Lily was close now. Nariah could make out two figures atop the panda’s back. One stood even as he rode, black smoke swirling around him. What if Death transported himself inside the carriage with her? Nariah’s breath hitched in her chest. Why hadn’t he done that already?
“Lady of the Wood, I beseech thee!” Nariah cried again, falling to her knees just inside the door and holding up both hands to implore the towering green trees rolling by. “Please, help me save my people!”
All was silent for a moment, and the horses came to a sudden stop. Behind her, Lily stopped in her tracks as well, falling to all four paws less than a mile away. Tinkling bells from somewhere deep within the woods caught Nariah’s attention, and her body straightened on its own, freezing in place. The bells faded away, replaced by a soft, lively melody from a tin whistle not far off.
Nariah’s heart leapt in her chest. The druantia had heard her! And her soul was still in her body. That had to count for something.
The trees outside the carriage door began to sway, their branches and leaves rustling in time with the upbeat tune that burned itself into Nariah’s mind. Pain ebbed away into nothingness in her leg. Glancing down, she watched the edges of the wound uncurl and pull back together, then heal without a trace.
A flash of gold shimmered between the trees, pulling Nariah’s gaze out into a wood that was literally dancing before her eyes. Sense left her as the trees pulled in their roots, clasped each other’s limbs like arms, and swung each other around in a lively jig. A clearing opened before her, with dirt filling the empty holes the trees left behind and the grass spreading and flowering into open blooms in a blink.
“Oh, glorious day!” a multitude of voices cried from all around. “For Life himself walks among us at last!”
Rowan cried out, and Nariah looked up in surprise to see him clambering up Lily’s neck, keeping his knees close to his chest and batting at thick vines which curled up the panda’s sides. It was as though the vines were reaching for him, but he was terrified of them.
Death was nowhere to be seen.
Bobbing specks of red, gold, and green light danced into the carriage and circled Nariah’s head.
“Here’s the one who called you, oh Lady Fair!” voices emanated from the lights. “Come see!”
Thousands of the bobbing lights swirled in patterns together in the clearing, while the trees circled the edges. From the furthest trees, a maiden emerged onto the fresh green grass and miniature daisies. A shining gold tin whistle perched lightly on her lips, played by long, elegant fingers. Her skin was dark, a deep mahogany, clothed with a sheath of rainbow scales that clung to her like a gown from just above her ankles to her neck. Golden wreaths dangled from her neck and arms, leaving a dusting of glitter upon whatever was close to her, including the sage-green locks that fell past her waist. A pair of black and white horns protruded from the thick waves of hair at the very top of her head, curling up to greet the sky. The rest of her form seemed human, at least to Nariah’s unknowing eyes.
“Nariah! Be careful!” Rowan cried, unable to fend off the vines that had curled up his legs and tugged him to stand literally rooted to the ground at his panda’s side. Lily did not seem the least bit disturbed, and stood chomping on the grass.
The druantia’s music filled Nariah to her core and brought her to her feet once again. The music beckoned her into the clearing, consuming her thoughts and casting all the weights of her world aside.
She needed to ask for safe passage before she lost her wits, but her hips whirled on their own, her calloused, sun-stained hands reaching for the newly awakening stars above. Smiling, the druantia released the flute in mid-air, where it hung by some source of magic and continued playing its tune without missing a beat.
“Nariah Alcon, Savior of Ellonai, welcome to your sanctuary,” the druantia greeted her, bowing low.
Dancing fell to the wayside as Nariah fell to her knees, her face inches from the fresh earth. Perfectly sphere drops of dew kissed her cheeks as the grass reached up to stroke her face.
“Oh my lady, I am unclean… an exile. Please do not bow before a sinner such as I.”
A gentle hand rested upon Nariah’s head. Crouching low, the druantia lifted Nariah’s chin and offered her the softest, warmest smile.
“You mistake me for a goddess,” the druantia said, patting Nariah’s head before rising again.
Self-conscious of her damaged skin, her ragged appearance, and the sudden return of her need to go to the bathroom, Nariah hesitated in accepting the offer. The druantia bent and scooped up her hand, leading her to a simple stone shelter on the edge of the clearing. Inside, she found an outhouse made of stones above a shallow ditch. Surely there was not always an outhouse here?
“The forest knows what its guests need,” the druantia explained, patting Nariah on the back. “See? Even your clothing has been fixed for the eve.”
A warm, gentle breeze like a breath of air from the lungs of the forest itself passed over them, and Nariah’s armor fell away as dust, replaced by a long skirt of white satin and a shirt of silken blue.
“Time obeys us in this place,” the druantia said, ushering Nariah into the outhouse. “Relieve yourself, then come dance with us. We will feast at midnight, and you can tell us of your task. For now, I must see to Life.”
Unable to see Rowan through the stone walls, Nariah hastened to relieve herself as the druantia had requested. At no point did the music fade. Tunes shifted into new songs and an occasional slower ballad, but the entire forest was rejoicing. Every plant, flower, and blade of grass welcomed their lord to their land as though he had he never set foot there before.
Returning to the clearing, Nariah found the moon halfway to its highest peak in the sky. It was her second night since leaving Ellonai, but it felt like ages had passed. She should be tired, she thought, but the music breathed a burning energy into her that she had no choice but to dance off. Rowan danced alone in the center of the circle, his long platinum hair practically glowing in the moonlight. A flowing white tunic fell over his soft beige pants, and his eyes smiled so brightly that she could make out the faintest of smile lines around the edges.
A soft golden glow radiated from him, and everywhere he stood, the grass sprouted new flowers. The entire center of the clearing was awash with blossoms in minutes. He seemed so simple, like any human man, but his grace, beauty, and passion for the world around him were unarguably divine.
Innocence made this lord who he was, Nariah realized, and shame scorched her heart. She understood now why Raiyer had warned her to stay away from his brother. To expose Rowan to the horrors of her world would taint Life itself.
The druantia caught Nariah staring at Rowan, and heat raced through the former princess’s body. More creatures entered the circle now. Some races Nariah recognized. Centaur maids and men came bearing platters of all manner of food—both meat and vegetables. Fawns brought stringed instruments and danced as they played along with the druantia’s song. Kitsune foxes shifted into men and women at the tree’s edge, all draped in silver robes.
Other beings were not so familiar. Men and women with the heads of various animals, like boar and cat and bear, brought burning sticks laced at the ends with a dusting of gunpowder, which sparkled and popped in the light. Tall beings who were humanoid in shape but nearly transparent in nature, as though cut from living crystals, gathered together in a boundary around the clearing. Their voices raised in a delightful chorus.
Bulky, hunched-over, misshapen giants made of living stone, with moss growing upon them, sat themselves down to one side of the clearing and stretched out legs as long as houses. The centaurs quickly set the food out upon the trollish beings’ legs, but the trolls didn’t seem to care, smiling with childhood whimsy at the scene below them.
“Nariah, dance with me!” Rowan said, swooping in from nowhere and catching her hand in his.
He whisked her out into the clearing, to the clapping and cheering of those around them. Rowan’s laughter made Nariah’s heart skip in her chest, and tingling spread from his fingers into her palms. A smile finally found its way onto her face as well, but it seemed… off. Wrong. Like she was forgetting something important.
“Isn’t it brilliant!” Life squealed as he whirled her around and around. He nodded to the celebration around them. “All of these people, all of this love for life, and it’s been hidden away just beyond my doorstep all these years.”
Doubts clawed at her mind. Questions. Why could she never let herself sit and truly enjoy something without looking for trouble? What was wrong with one night of dancing and feasting with the druantia, Rowan, and nature itself? This would be a night she would only experience once in her brief life. A night she could tell descendants about for decades, should she survive the goddesses’ intended destruction of her kingdom.
“Yeah,” she said at last, shaking the doubts from her head. “Why is that? It really is so close to you…”
“Raiyer,” Rowan whispered, glancing around as though afraid of being overheard. His smile wavered for a moment. “Death is not exactly welcome here… They see enough of it unjustly in their forest as it is.”
Suddenly, it all made sense. The druantia’s statement about not being a goddess. Raiyer vanishing from Lily’s back. The dance and the celebration in Rowan’s honor.
These beings were made by the goddesses to protect and nurture Ellonai. They were not masters, not even the druantia herself. They were merely keepers. And Death was cast out, as any other being consumed with the destruction would be.
Nariah imagined Raiyer landing in the dirt outside the edge of the forest, sent spiraling back the way they came, with no mount, no way through, and no close place to turn back to. The seething rage her second least favorite lord must have been feeling at that moment brought a coy smile to her face. She shouldn’t celebrate the misfortune of others, but he had stolen the soul of her father only hours ago, and had probably been coming for hers.
“Nariah,” Rowan whispered, and his sad eyes anchored her back in the present.
She had to get better about not drifting off like that; allowing the lords and goddesses to run away with her thoughts only gave them more power over her.
Shaking her head, she shrugged as she said, “Sorry, Rowan. I’m sorry.”
Life shimmered, and a faint blue light swept out from his body, enveloping her. Nothing else happened. The song had slowed to a ballad, and many of the others were making their way to the food. Despite being completely surrounded by all manner of beings, a glimmering bubble, barely visible save for where the starlight and moonlight glittered off it just right, muffled the conversations of everyone else.
“I hope you’ll forgive me,” he whispered, casting his eyes to the ground and smiling sheepishly. “I wanted to talk without being overheard.”
“O—kay,” she whispered, unsure why he would ask for an apology for that. He was a lord; he could talk whenever and wherever he chose, in whoever’s presence he chose.
“No, no, I brought you into my Void,” he exclaimed, then shook his head. “At least, the entrance of it. Just enough into my world to keep others from listening in.”
“Oh,” she whispered.
Death had brought her into his Void without a second thought. He didn’t seem all that ruffled by it, but he’d definitely had a mouthful that he only intended to share when others weren’t in earshot. That was different, though—a cave in the dark that ripped her right off Lily’s back and out of her world. Life’s Void, by contrast, was so ordinary, she’d have barely known what she stumbled into.
“Nariah, we cannot linger here,” Rowan whispered, despite his assertation that none could overhear him within the void.
Looking around, Nariah clutched Rowan’s hand for a moment as she saw the druantia looking their way, but the Lady of the Wood only smiled at Nariah and nodded encouragingly before going off to the food table with the others.
“I know,” Nariah whispered back, a deep sigh bringing back the weight of her duty upon her shoulders. “The eclipse will not wait. And with it…”
Don’t tell the lords, Irony’s warning during their last conversation came rushing back to Nariah’s mind. She bit her lip, but Rowan’s eyes narrowed.
“And with it, Irony,” he finished for her.
She shrugged, not willing to be the one who broke a goddess’s command, even inadvertently. Vision upon vision attested to what Irony and her sisters could do; Nariah had enough qualms with them as it was.
Clenching Nariah’s hands, Rowan pulled her close. His skinny but strong arms wrapped around her waist, and his citrus and earthy scent filled her nose as he rested his chin on her shoulder. Warmth embraced her, true warmth in a hug long overdue. Raising trembling arms, she hugged him back. They swayed from side to side amid the fresh flowers he’d brought to life around them.
“Why, Nariah, are you going back?” Rowan’s whisper tickled her ear, and she giggled. Not a laugh, not even a chuckle, but a giggle—the first sincere one in a very, very long time.
The hint of laughter broke away chains within her, even as her mind told her to keep her feelings close and her heart closed. Not even lords could be trusted, she reminded herself, but the music and the atmosphere melted her worries away as quickly as they rose. Rowan was not like the others. No, the innocent man who’d looked up at her in the lodge knew nothing of the shadows pursuing her. She couldn’t pin them on him.
“My father is dead,” she said, not wanting to drag him into visions of kingdom-wide destruction. “My sister was never meant to take the throne; she’s never wanted it. Maybe… maybe….”
“Maybe if you go back, she’ll forgive you?”
Nariah nodded. The statement sounded simple enough in theory. Why, then, did it feel hopeless in her heart?
“It’s normal, you know,” Rowan said, leaning back to look down into her face, “to want forgiveness for a sin you bear at no fault of your own.”
A shadow of sadness crossed the lord of Life’s face, and he tilted his chin up to the sky. Countless stars reflected in the lord’s eyes, and he paused in his dance, stretching a hand up as though he could grab one of them. Gently closing his fingers, he brought his hand down and presented his loosely-closed fist to Nariah with a nod. Slowly, cautiously, she opened his fingers, expecting nothing to be inside. To her surprise, a single crystal hung from a chain of fine silver.
“A wish,” he whispered, offering it to her. “I have the power to grant only one every thousand years—ten mortal lifetimes. I’ve been saving it, wondering how to make right the wrongs that have doomed us all. For truly, it is I who have brought you here. And now, even Mercy is dead.”
“Mercy? The goddess?” The woman in the lodge came rushing back to Nariah’s mind. She shook her head, unable to process what he was telling her. “But a goddess can’t die.”
“That’s what we’ve always thought as well. But apparently, it isn’t true.”
Unclasping the necklace, Rowan secured the chain around Nariah’s neck while her mind reeled with the news he’d shared.
A goddess could die. She could kill them all! Save not only her people, but Irony herself… that is, if she could figure out how Mercy was killed.
Rowan’s warm fingers brushed the stone on Nariah’s chest, and she jumped at the contact. He smiled, taking her hands in his and snapping his fingers once. The bubble around them burst, and their woodland companions cheered. Soft background tunes replaced the dancing melodies, and Rowan escorted Nariah to the food.
“I give my wish to you, Princess Nariah Alcon,” he whispered out of the corner of his mouth as he waved to the beings around them on the way to the troll’s makeshift tables. “Right the wrong that I could not. You’re the Seer, after all; you’re the only one who can see reality for what it really is.”