Dust (Of Dust and Darkness) (16 page)

             
I envy those stars, and I watch them until the night fades, then replaced first by morning twilight, and finally, dawn. The indigo sky lightens and a few wispy cirrus clouds high in the sky begin to turn a pinkish orange.

             
It’s when I’m studying the sky that I notice it. A ripple in the glamour. I’ve always known it was there; I feel it each time I pass through the magical layer. But something never occurred to me before. I jump to my feet and peek over the edge of the pit. A sense of revelation pulses through my body and my heart quickens at the thought. I extend my arm as far down the cliff as I can and feel the magical ripple against my fingertips, tingling my skin like when I pass through the illusion covering our pit.

             
What if?

             
I rush to Willow’s part of the pit, where I see she’s still sleeping. All the pixies are up and about already, eating their share of breakfast. I guess Holly took the lead and left us to sleep. I’m sure it didn’t take her long to realize Juniper’s body was no longer with us. She tries to hand me a bowl of mash as I rush by, a sense of forlorn apparent on her features, but I disregard her completely on my way to Willow.

             
“Willow!” I shake her a little harder than I probably should have, but I can’t help it. “Willow!”

             
She stirs groggily but quickly jumps to her feet in panic. “What?” she bursts, her eyes darting in all directions with panic.

             
“It’s all an illusion. Just a glamour.”

             
“What?” she asks, a little annoyed since she’s still expecting some sort of danger to come at her.

             
“Our surroundings. We’re not living in some desolate wasteland. Look out over the pit. Everywhere you look is lush greenery. Trees are filled with life. Birds, insects, wind! There’s a river just below us. Everything we see in this prison is just an illusion. They’ve glamoured everything we’re exposed to so we’ll think there’s no escaping this place. That trail we take every day? What if you go just far enough through the trees? Eventually you’ll pass right through the glamour like we do with the one covering our pit. There’s a lush forest surrounding us on all sides. I just know it!”

             
My heart
is
racing a mile a minute. Willow seems to be processing what I tell her, her eyes darting side to side, expressing the calculations she was reading in her head. She slowly begins to nod her head in agreement. “Yeah, it’s possible.”

             
“Willow, it’s more than possible. We know these spriggans don’t stay here at night. There’s no reason to since we can’t fly out of the pit to walk away anyway. There’s a world around us to hide in. All we have to do is run.”

             
“Run? Rosalie, most of these pixies don’t even understand the concept anymore. Sure, we could probably walk them out of here during the night if we could find a way out of the pit, but run? Any pixie not lucid at this point will still be a prisoner by
morning’s light
. And we can’t just leave them here to fend for themselves. They’ll die.”

             
She’s right. And I know it. That’s why my chest suddenly feels heavier. As much as I want to be free, I could never do it at their expense. “What if I just run? You stay here and keep the others alive. I’ll run and bring back help.”

             
“Rosalie, think about what you’re saying. Every day we have like ten spriggans in the area. You’re one pixie. Who can’t fly. You’ll never make it during the day. I’m fine if you want to find a way to escape but you need to do it during the cover of night. If they catch you they’ll throw you back in the hole for an extended period of time. Do you know what happens to those pixies?”

             
I shake my head.

             
“Of course you don’t. Because the pixies that come back refuse to speak of it. And you’ve never met one of those pixies because every single one of them committed suicide shortly after being released.”

             
Her eyes dart to the sky and mine soon follow. Spriggans are descending.

             
“I know I can make it. I can. And if I don’t, I know I’m strong enough to survive the hole.” She’s shaking her head at me, more forcefully with each additional word that flows from my mouth. “Willow, it’s worth the risk.”

             
Right then a spriggan attaches to my back and lifts me away. I see the concern on her face and I can read her silent words perfectly.
Don’t. Don’t do it.

             
But I’ve already made up my mind. I believe with all my heart the risk is worth it and I’m strong enough to deal with the unknown if my attempt fails.

             
I’m the first pixie to fall in line and I keep my head down and my expression filled with defeat. I will not let on what I’m about to do. I will be a good, submissive pixie, numb and lifeless, my feet shuffling along the trail
be
cause I’m too tired to pick them up.

             
But I’m not tired. And I’m not lifeless. Adrenalin
e surges through my bloodstream, bringing
a newfound life to every part of my body. I sense excitement in what I’m about to do. I sense confidence. I can do this. I will break free. And I will return with help to free the rest.

             
They will not keep my freedom.

             
As I near the cave, I don’t take my place at one of the tables inside. Instead I veer my lazy body off t
o the side, picking up a basket, continuing
to shuffle my feet along. The spriggan leading us now stands guard at the entrance. The others are still hovering around, watching the line. The moment I clear the corner of the cave I take off, dropping the basket so I can pump my arms for more speed. I don’t know if there’s anyone chasing me. I’m sure they are, but by foot or by air, I can’t hear them either way.

             
I take a straight shot. I refuse to weave in and around the trees, knowing my best bet is to get to the forest as fast as possible to hide amongst the foliage. My legs are burning because I’m not used to doing anything but standing. My knees ache every time my foot pounds the ground and I feel my thigh muscles strain as I stretch to extend every stride to the max. I run and run and run, but all I see are dying trees and dried-out compacted dirt, the forest whipping past me in shades of the dullest tans and browns ever.

             
Suddenly, there’s a tingling sensation dancing along the hairs on my skin. My heart leaps with joy as I recognize the ripple in the air and feel its magic closing in on me. The ripple is thicker than I expect and it slows my progress. I hear a cacophony of sounds blurring together, but they clear into the distinct sounds of nature the closer I get to the other side. I finally punch through the barrier and the magic releases the hold it has on my body. I gasp and come to a skidding stop. Not because I finally see a forest in all its beautiful glory of color, sounds and wildlife, or feel the cool relief of the wind upon my skin, but because I realize I’m standing at the edge of the spriggans’ campsite, sandwiched directly between two huts made of skinny sticks roped together and topped with straw thatches.

             
Oh. My. Mother. Nature.

             
There are several more huts in the area, with one designated as their eating area. A slab of rock holds a spread of luscious fruits and vegetables in multiple colors, and segregated piles of various seeds and nuts. Overgrown mushrooms, probably enlarged using pixie dust, shoot up around the rock, offering a comfy place to sit.  I hear water rushing and bubbling over rocks nearby, and see a channel made of wood directing a small flow towards the food hut to create a communal watering hole.

             
I’m half-tempted to run straight through just to grab what I can in food, but even though I don’t see anyone, I decide the best course of action is to sneak along the back side of the campsite until I’m clear. I creep along but I sense what lead I have ahead of my captors has dissipated. Before I can turn my neck to check, a sharp pain radiates outward from my crown. My vision fades and blurs, and wooziness overcomes my body.

I groan as I come to in the darkness, the faint sound of water pounding into rock. There’s a cold, hard surface beneath me that
unfortunately
I recognize. Intense, sharp vibrations
pulsate within
my head and it feels like I’ve slept awkwardly on my neck for days. The moment I make it to a sitting position, my vision spins so violently I upchuck uncontrollably. Luckily for me there’s nothing in my stomach to actually come up, and I spare myself the nuisance of defiling what little space I have to move around in. The darkness is suffocating and pounds against my head. I have a pretty good idea of where I am, so I have no problem letting my body succumb to the darkness once more.

Water attacks my skin, drowning every exposed inch, and my body bursts to life in terror. My eyes open to the dim light and I spot a spriggan swinging another pail of water my way.  Unfortunately, I gasp in sync with his release and end up choking on water, leaving a burning sensation up my nose and down my throat.

             
“Oh, good. You’re awake,” says a male voice sarcastically. I haven’t even seen him yet and I already know he’s an arrogant jerk. His voice is smooth though…nothing like the deep, husky sound of a spriggan.

             
Still coughing my lungs clean, I sweep the water off my face and squeeze the excess from my eyes. It takes several blinks to nourish my moisture-stripped eyes with tears and for the blurriness to fade, but they still burn. My hands stay in the air before my face, unsure if another water attack is coming. I spot the spriggan with the pail and deduce he has no more pails to throw. Beside him is a faerie; the first I’ve seen since imprisoned.

             
Just as I thought, he has an air about him that screams pretentious; too good to be with the likes of a pixie. His long blond hair is thin and has a slight wave to it, and his thin structure is curved with thick muscles. He’s a few inches taller than me and several shorter than the monstrous spriggan behind him. His wings are almost translucent in this light and are pulled downward behind his back. It’s too dark to determine eye color on his heart-shaped face, and it doesn’t help that he’s squinting them at me, clearly annoyed with me already. His clothes surprise me though. He almost appears to be wearing something similar to a dress. He has on the normal fitted cotton covering his legs, but his long white sleeve shirt is a bit poufy in the arms. Over that is a weird sleeveless
,
blue velvet coverlet that falls practically down to his knees, with a stitched white insignia on his chest I don’t recognize. If that
isn’t
bad enough, the feather of a peacock pokes out of a pocket over his heart.

             
Such ridiculous clothing. Did he wear the thing willingly or did he lose a bet?

             
Just the sight of him ticks me off. He being the only faerie I’ve seen since unlawfully imprisoned, a roar of fire builds within my chest and my limbs yearn to lash out and attack him with everything I’ve got. However, I’m not that stupid. My internal rage jumps leaps and bounds over what I know my body can physically do at this moment.