Chapter Three
Claire found herself lying on her back and staring up at a high forest canopy. The dark, feather-like leaves and knotted branches wove together so tightly that they blotted out the sky. At first, Claire thought several specters with glowing blue eyes stood over her, but as she came to her senses, she realized that the specters were actually lanky tree trunks spotted with pale green lichen. What she'd first taken to be a phantom eye was actually a white lantern resting in the crook of a tree. A single blue blame flickered in the center of the lantern, a pale light in the darkness of the forest.
A stillness lay about the forest. Claire couldn't quite put the feeling into words. Despite the thick canopy of leaves, despite the white and yellow flowers, and despite beds of green moss, the forest felt lifeless.
Then, a familiar, soft voice asked, "What is this place?"
As she rolled over on the moss-covered ground, Claire spotted her eldest sister. Brigitte sat with her knees drawn to her chest, surrounded by tangled roots and clusters of yellow flowers shaped like stars. A white cat curled around Brigitte's ankles, its wary blue eyes fixed on Claire.
In the blue light of the lantern, Brigitte's low cheekbones and prominent nose seemed almost mystical. Her golden-brown skin had taken on a greenish hue, and she seemed like a tree-spirit come to life. Claire started to recoil from her own sister. Then, Brigitte's warm, brown eyes met Claire's, and the fright vanished as quickly as it had come.
Claire pulled herself up into a sitting position and then said, "I don't know."
"The house…" Brigitte raised a trembling hand to touch the fluorite around her neck.
The memories hit Claire like a bolt of lightning. The flames had engulfed the backdoor as bird claws reached for her. Claire had twisted out of reach, only to find a snake hissing at her ankles. Raging flames to her left, the bite of icy air to her right, Claire had stumbled away from the serpent's fangs only to find herself falling down, through the kitchen floor.
"What happened?" gasped Claire. "What happened to the house?"
Brigitte opened her mouth but no sound came out. She stared at Claire with wide, frightened eyes.
"Uncle!"
A single cry cut through the forest, and then Remy sat upright on a bed of moss. Her hands curled into fists as she turned this way and that, taking in the forest around her. Her gaze landed on the white lantern and her frantic movements ceased. Slowly, her eyes dropped to her sisters and she asked, "They threw you in the hole too?" She caught sight of the white cat beside Brigitte. "Even Tama."
"Hole?" asked Brigitte. "What hole?"
"You didn't see it?" asked Remy. "One of them did something with her hands and a hole opened up in the kitchen floor. That thing with wings threw me in."
"Why?" Brigitte's voice come out as little more than a hoarse whisper.
"What were those things?" asked Claire. The woman in the dancing flames stepping through the doorway flashed through Claire's mind. A smile twisted that woman's lips before a giant wing unfurled before Claire's eyes and white talons reached for her.
"What do you think?" snapped Remy. Her fingers touched the bracelet at her wrist. "Did you forget all of Mom's bedtime stories?"
Bird wings, red mask, and a long nose. The description stirred something faint and half-forgotten in Claire's memories.
"A tengu," said Brigitte softly. "I saw a tengu."
Now, Claire remembered. Fierce bird-demons who guarded mountain paths and punished humans who intruded on their domain. Her mother's calm voice echoed through her memory, recounting the tale of a man who stole a single leaf from the mountain forest, only to encounter a bitter storm. A tengu. A real tengu.
"You're crazy," gasped Claire. "You're as crazy as Mom."
"What else do you call it?" asked Remy. "You saw it just like we did. The man who called Mom 'Talise.' The man who opened the hole in the kitchen floor. The fire woman who broke through the backdoor."
"Ice," added Brigitte. "His touch was so cold." A sob broke through her voice. "Noah. Oh God, Noah. Mom and Uncle Jorge. Are they here too?"
Remy got to her feet and started scanning the surrounding forest. Claire followed suit, but she could see nothing outside the pale light of the lantern. The darkness filled the forest like a heavy tar. Claire assumed there were more trees beyond the light, but she couldn't be sure. She couldn't see anything. A shudder ran through Claire, and she turned watch the blue flame's gentle dance.
"Where are we?" asked Claire.
Her sisters walked at the edge of light, peering into the darkness and calling out names in tentative voices.
"Could they still be at home?" asked Remy at last.
"You don't think they were kidnapped?" asked Brigitte, a glimmer of hope in her voice.
Remy hesitated. "The man, the one who knew Mom, mentioned a bride."
Brigitte's head jerked at that. "Me?"
"I don't know," said Remy. "Maybe."
"You're taking this so seriously," cried Claire. She couldn't listen anymore. Not to this. Her sisters, her reliable older sisters, had always thought their mother as ridiculous as she did. Now, they discussed tengu and fire women and holes opening up in the kitchen floor like maybe their mother hadn't been making things up all along. "We were kidnapped—kidnapped—by some crazy street performers and dumped in this forest. Who knows when they'll be back? Congratulations on getting engaged, Brigitte, but we've got to escape, not talk about your wedding plans!"
Remy sent Claire a pitying look, while Brigitte took a step closer and said, "Claire, you don't believe that."
"Believe what? All this shit about demons and evil spirits? You know I don't."
"And we, what, all shared the same hallucination?" asked Remy, rolling her eyes.
"I—"
Brigitte screamed.
Claire's head whipped around. Her sister stared up at the small blue flame in the crook of the tree.
At first, Claire didn't understand why Brigitte had screamed like that. But then, the white lantern faded before her eyes, while the blue flame remained. It flickered, then grew in brightness. Claire watching in horror as it dropped down from the tree branches and landed in an outstretched palm.
Now it was Claire's turn to scream.
Between two towering trees stood what might have been a human. He was shorter than Claire, and he had a long, tangled beard threaded with gray moss. His skin was the heavy brown of wood so that he could almost be mistaken for one of the forest trees. Pale green eyes, the color of lichen, examined each one of the sisters in turn. First stone-faced Remy, then Brigitte with her red-rimmed eyes, until at last his bleak gaze came to rest of Claire.
A shiver ran down Claire's spine. She felt unnerved under his stare. On the surface, his pale eyes felt empty, but underneath… It was as though he was taking her apart piece by piece and analyzing every little detail.
Claire couldn't under that frightful stare, as if her body had been turned to stone.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that her sisters fared no better. Tama let out a single hiss as she cowered behind Brigitte's legs.
A street performer, Claire reminded herself. One with a really good costume. The flickering blue flame was a stage prop or some kind of special effect, and his pale green eyes were colored contact lens.
A voice broke the silence. It came from somewhere to Claire's right, and uttered strange words, each one one deep and haunting. When neither Claire nor her sisters responded, the voice shifted. It came now from somewhere overhead and said in a slow, throaty voice, "Which one is the Bride?"
Claire looked about, but she couldn't see who was speaking.
Then, in a almost a whisper, Brigitte said, "I think he's throwing his voice.
The man with moss for a beard and wood for skin stared out at the sisters through an empty gaze. Again, this time coming from Claire's left, the voice asked, "Which one is the Bride?"
"None of us. Who are you?" snapped Remy.
He turned his pale unblinking eyes on Remy. His voice came from behind Claire as he said, "I am the Leshy."
Remy frowned. Claire felt validated when she saw that Remy didn't recognize him from their mother's stories either. This wasn't some sick version of fairytales and folklore come to life. The man had an excellent costume, that was all.
"Where have you taken us?" asked Claire, finally finding her voice. "What do you want?"
"What is this 'Bride' you're all looking for?" added Remy.
The Leshy, or whatever he called himself, regarded Remy carefully. Then, his head tilted sideways as if listening to something. Claire didn't know what. There was no rustle of the wind or chirping of insects in this forest. Only a heavy silence. The Leshy's gaze snapped to Claire. As if stood beside her, whispering in her ear, the same slow voice said, "They are coming."
"'They?'" A shudder ran through Claire as she remembered the dancing flames and the black wings. Crazy, they were all crazy. Perhaps she was going crazy as well.
But the Leshy hadn't finished speaking. "The Bride must wed me. I will let no harm come to you." His disembodied voice whispered in Claire's ear as his gaze slid sideways to the darkness of the forest. "They will tear you apart."
"Crazy," muttered Claire.
Brigitte wheeled backwards, her eyes darting this way and that.
"What is this Bride?" asked Remy. "What does it have to do with us?"
The Leshy turned his gaze to her. The blue flame danced in the palm of his hand as his voice asked, "Are you the daughters of Talise Dang?"
Remy started to speak but then stopped.
"No," snapped Claire. Anger with her sister and with the whole situation burned hot in her chest. "Our mom is Eliza Lemelle. You have the wrong sisters."
Brigitte grabbed hold of Claire's wrist, her manicured nails digging into the skin. She held Tama with her other arm, the cat nestled against her chest. In a soft voice, Brigitte said, "We need to leave."
Remy didn't hear. Her hands trembled even as she asked the Leshy, "Where are we? What is this place?"
"They have brought you to the land of the Folk," said the Leshy. His voice came from far away as he spoke again in that same haunting tongue. A frown appeared, as if he was trying to recall the words. Then, his voice moved to the high canopy as he said, "The Bride must marry to strengthen and…spasti, ratować…to save."
Brigitte's grip on Claire's wrist had become unbearably tight, but Claire could barely feel the pain. She could only stare at the man before her. What was he saying? What was this? What was any of this? Less than an hour ago she'd been playing a board game with her family, arguing with Jorge whether the dice landing on the floor mandated a reroll. Now, this man in a strange tree costume was telling her one of her or her sisters had to marry him.
"Fuck this," sneered Claire. "Like hell any of us would marry one of you weirdos."
The Leshy's voice moved like a wind through the trees. "Marry me."
"None of us is the Bride," said Remy. Her voice was surprisingly calm. "Our mom is named Eliza Lemelle. There's been some kind of mistake."
But the Leshy wasn't listening. He stared into the forest, beyond the faint ring light, and then, he said, "They are here."
He closed his hand, and the blue flame went out.
Darkness swallowed Claire. Everything was gone. The trees, the flowers, the moss. Claire stood in the pitch black with only the feeling of Brigitte's fingernails digging into her skin to ground her.
"Shit." Remy's voice sounded far away, muffled by the darkness.
A heavy stillness lay about them. The forest did not stir, and the only sound Claire could hear were the unsteady breaths of her and Brigitte.
A hot wind brushed through the forest, and the leaves whispered overhead.
"What's that?" asked Brigitte.
Claire's head jerked this way and that, but she couldn't see anything.
Faint at first and then growing, Claire saw an orange light. It started as little more than a candle's flame in the distance, but within moments, it danced higher and higher until its light formed a path across the knotted forest floor.
"Forest fire," gasped Brigitte. She tried to drag Claire away, but Claire's legs wouldn't move. She could only stare, spellbound, and the spreading flames.
The fire grew brighter, redder, and from their depths emerged figures in golden armor with skin the color of charcoal and flaming yellow eyes. At the front stood a woman bearing a saber. Her lips tugged into a smile.
"Run," said Brigitte.
Claire didn't need telling twice.
Brigitte clung to her sister's hand as they fled through the forest. Claire's long legs gave her speed, and Brigitte practically found herself dragged over the tree roots in her sister's wake. Her feet felt thick and clumsy as she struggled to keep up, and the added weight of Tama didn't help matter. It took all Brigitte's concentration to stop herself and Tama from tumbling face-first into the darkness.
Fear drove her forward. The heat of the flames licked at their backs. Voices calling out to one another in a haunted language filled the forest.
Out of the corner of her eye, Brigitte could see Remy. Remy kept her head bowed as she darted through the trees. She was little more than a shadow in the light of the ever-growing fire. Brigitte stumbled over a thick tree root, and when she looked up again, Remy had disappeared.
"Remy!" cried Brigitte.
Claire gave a hard tug on Brigitte's hand. "Hurry! We—"
An icy chill bit the back of Brigitte's neck, making the hairs stand on end. Cold, it was so cold. And yet, she could still see the orange light of raging fires.
A voice, sharp and clear, cut through the forest. The words of that strange language seemed to echo amongst the trees. And then, a woman responded in tones equal parts teasing and dangerous, "Does your Winter King wish to challenge the Djinn?"
There came no answer.
Then, from somewhere high above, rang out a singsong voice, "You are right to run, daughters of Talise Dang."
Brigitte spotted a figure in gray robes perched in the low hanging branches of a tree. She quickly looked away but his voice followed her as she fled. "Stay away from the fire and frost. Come with me—the dokkaebi will treat you well."
Faster, faster. In her heart, Brigitte knew she couldn't outrun them.
Pain shot through Brigitte's head as her long hair was yanked backwards. She lost hold of her sister.
"Claire!" With a shriek and clutching Tama to her chest, Brigitte tumbled onto a soft bed of moss.
"Brigi—"
Claire's cry cut off, and Brigitte could no longer see her youngest sister.
The flames were further away, their light faint. Brigitte could no longer feel their heat. Instead, the cold engulfed her. A chill shifted in the heavy air of the forest.
"Are you the Bride?" A man stood over a bed of frost-tipped daffodils. At least, he seemed a man at first glance. Beneath snow-white hair, his gray face was made of all angles, the ears too pointed, the jaw too narrow, and the eyes an unnatural shade of pale blue.
He uttered something in that same haunting tongue, and the cold seemed to build around Brigitte. It became sharp to the point of painful, but she didn't have the strength to cry out. Tama howled for her. The sound seemed to come from some distant place. Brigitte could almost see the ice encapsulating her before she slipped into a frozen slumber.
Fire raging behind or the deep darkness of the forest ahead, Remy chose the latter and fled.
She ran from the shelter of one tree to another, never turning to look back. Through the darkness, she caught a glimpse of Claire and Brigitte. Then, they vanished from sight. Remy might have chased after them if she hadn't seen the flurry of wings in the firelight. She fled in the opposite direction.
In this pitch-black forest, pursued by creatures in their own land, how long would she last?
Not long, she reckoned.
Silver mist had seeped its way into the forest, filling the narrow spaces between the trees and lying heavy over the delicate flowers. The shrill whine of a horse came from somewhere to her left, but Remy didn't dare look. The image of milky eyes and a deer helm screamed out from her memories, but she pushed the image away.
Remy's legs were already exhausted from a long shift at work. They almost gave out beneath her as she ran, and she leaned onto the nearest tree trunk to stop herself from falling.
She felt a light touch on her leg, just above her knee.
She looked down to see webbed fingers resting on her trousers. Then, the smell of salt hit Remy, and she found herself staring into bulging, golden eyes. The small, reptilian creature had rough skin, gray in the firelight. The creature wore nothing but a loin cloth of scales, and a long pike had been strapped to his back by a thick piece of rope.
It took all of Remy's control not to shriek.
She yanked her leg back, keeping a stabilizing hand on the tree as she stumbled away.
The creature opened his thin lips, but he spoke in a language Remy didn't know. Seeing her blank stare, the creature tried again, this time in a different tongue. Another set of golden eyes appeared beside the first, and then a pair of green ones. The salty, silver mist swirled around them as more and more materialized. Over a dozen of these reptilian creatures emerged from the fog, bringing with them sharp pikes and the smell of the sea.
"Abrechi atend breli." The weighted words cut through the forest.
The creatures stiffened, their round eyes quivering.
Remy heard the stamp of a hoof on the moss-covered ground. Her heart thundered in her chest as she turned to see those familiar milky eyes.
The rider in black mail looked down at Remy. His deer-skull helm covered his eyes but Remy still shivered under his stare. The rider was no longer alone. Remy could see the shapes pf horses, riders, and giant hounds behind him. Panic rose in her throat. There must have been at least twenty riders, all in black mail, ghostly in the mist as if they were nothing more than illusions.
"Come with us." The rider spoke now in English. "The ponaturi will offer you no protection."
Remy didn't move. Given a choice between the two-foot reptile people and the riders with armor and swords, Remy would take the group she thought she had a chance with in a fight.
The rider, though, wasn't waiting for Remy's consent. He spurred his horse forward even as the reptiles—the ponaturi—raised their pikes. They hissed something in that same language, but the rider ignored him. The company behind him stirred.
"You would be wise to stay far from the wild, daughter of Talise Dang."
The fog shimmered and yet more figures appeared before Remy. These ones were tall and fair, clad in dark gray armor etched with curling vines and elegant flowers. Golden broaches glimmered on their chests, fastening to them cloaks of olive green. They had swords and bows drawn, and beneath silver helms, they watched the company of riders with hating stares.
The blazing flames had faded into the forest, and now small blue flames appeared in the branches of the trees, casting their pale light down on the thin mist and the figures below. The wild company and the gray soldiers glowered at one another. Remy remained with her back against the tree, while the trembling ponaturi kept their pikes drawn.
The milky-eyed horse twisted to face the newcomers. The deer-skull rider sneered, "The Queen's dog has come howling at the wind."
The one at the front stepped forward. He wore no helm so that his dark brown hair fell about his shoulders. His eyes were too bright a green to belong to a human. His ashen lips pulled back to reveal sharp teeth as he said, "If you think the Courts will let the Bride fall into your snare, Karnon Mac Fiáin, then you are gravely mistaken."
Mac Fiáin. The name snagged on Remy's memory. The kitchen. The man in the kitchen. Her mother had thrown the cooking knives at him. Mac Fiáin.
The rider sat upright in his saddler. "I will be gone from this world before the Bride sets foot in faerie lands."
"Treachery," hissed the green-eyed soldier. A faerie, Remy realized, for no other word suited his keen eyes and pointed ears so well. The soldier spoke not only to Mac Fiáin but to the whole company. "The Queen ought to have dealt with you swiftly.
Remy took a small step to the side and then another as she watched the two parties trade barbs. She seemed forgotten, even though she was the one they argued over.
If she wanted to run, now would be her chance. But how far would she get? Perhaps the company and the faeries would put aside their differences to hunt her down. She couldn't outrun horses. Who would catch her first? The faerie with their sharp eyes or the company in their black armor. She trusted neither.
Something stirred beside her, and Remy looked down to see a small, webbed hand extended to her. Large, golden eyes, protruding from an angled head stared up at her with an unspoken question.
Remy spared one last glance for the bickering faeries and riders before she grasped hold of the extended hand.
She felt dry scales beneath her palm as the mist began the thicken around her. The stench of brine became almost overwhelming as the fog blinded her. She saw the faeries shrieking in protest as the company maneuvered their horses to stop them from pursuing. Then, the dense fog closed around Remy, and she left the dark forest behind.
A/N: I wanted to give this story chapter titles, but I have no clue what to name them lol.
Thanks for reading and reviewing!
