Whisper and Rise (18 page)

“It still has nothing to do with me.” Darian yelled so loud that the echo of his words mixed with the next. “I didn’t take the scrolls. I didn’t kill your boyfriend.”

“Fiancé.”

“Fiancé then! It wasn’t me.” Darian leaned close and grabbed my shoulders. The smoldering branch in my arms almost touched his face. “Whoever you gave the scrolls to, that’s who you should blame. They could have lost the scrolls. Did you ever think about that?”

“He couldn’t,” I said. I tried to wriggle free, but Darian’s grip was tight. I waved the branch, but he had already released me. “A bandit robbed my friend’s home and stole the scrolls.”

“I’m not a bandit!” Darian screamed so loud that tiny droplets of water fell from the cave ceiling. A couple of them sizzled when they reached the burning branch. He leaned toward me again, but then stepped back as I waved the flame in warning. “I’m sorry about Sean. I really am. I wish he were here right now.” He paced the lighted space, reminding me of my father. When he stopped, he spoke again. “All I want to do is go home.” He spoke deliberately as if to keep from yelling. Behind his words was the pressure to explode.

Somehow, I wasn’t frightened. I interrupted before he could speak again. “I believe you,” I said. “I believe you. That’s why I’m helping you.” I reached toward him and touched the back of his neck. Tiny chill bumps rose to meet my touch. “You asked why I’m not a faerie anymore. I’m telling you my story.” My voice was soft and didn’t carry to the walls to echo. “After I attacked you, I needed to tell the others what I had done. I was exposed.”

“Wait.” Darian reached for my hand and found it.

“I am sorry. I was upset.”

Darian fell to the ground and lowered his head.

“I was horrible to you.”

“You’re not horrible.”

“No, don’t say that.” I dropped to his side. “I’m awful. Even a moment ago, I don’t know what happened. I’m so angry about you, and about Sean, and about everything.” I squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“You can hate me,” he said, “but don’t apologize for being angry. It sounds like you’ve had it rough.” He stood and guided my hand to join him. “And so have I.” He started walking toward the cave entrance. “I need to sleep through this.”

I released his hand. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m trying to make it right.”

I didn’t know what to say after that. I followed him, torch in hand, until we reached the remnants of our fire. The cavern there felt warm and comforting. We didn’t talk. Kneeling to arrange our separate sleeping spots, we didn’t even look at one another. I guess the moment had overtaken our needs; it left a reminder that enemies weren’t meant to act this way.

~ O ~

Morning reminded me of the potion I had prepared. The scent of Liquid Night sifted through the smothering musty smell that had become part of cave living. I yawned and moaned, refreshed from the pleasant dreams the night had offered me. Then I remembered where I lay. Across the chamber, Darian’s sleeping spot was empty. I let the smile return and rolled close to the kettle to check it. It was perfect. The liquid night was everything it needed to be. In fact, I longed to taste it for myself, not that my dreams needed any comfort.

I was placing the kettle carefully in the dirt when Darian returned from outside the cave. “I picked some more leaves,” he announced, proudly displaying a handful of Andelin leaves. “I must have found the same tree you were taking them from. It was starting to look barren.”

I winced at the thought of my foolishness. Anyone looking for us could see it as a sign of our activity. “You shouldn’t need them any longer,” I told him, trying not to sound too forceful. I wanted him to help. “I’ve completed my potion.”

Darian knelt in front of me and peered into the kettle. “It smells like licorice.”

“You’ll enjoy the taste.” I snatched a cup from our pile and dipped it into the kettle. I offered it to Darian. “Drink this,” I told him, “all of it.”

He did as I asked and grinned when he finished. I watched him, waiting for the effects of the medicine before turning away. When his eyes stopped focusing, I took the cup from him.

“How do you feel?” I asked, though I knew the answer.

“This is great.”

Darian looked at the roof of the cave; I knew he couldn’t see it. In his mind, I was certain, he saw whatever wonderful thing made him the most happy. The potion worked that way. Not only did it heal the flesh, but also it energized the part of people that mattered the most—their wanting.

I dipped the cup again and offered him another taste by placing it in his hands. “Here, drink some more. You’ll have your energy back in a moment.”

Darian returned the cup to me when he finished. “I want to find the scrolls today. What do they look like?”

His question was puzzling since he had been accused of taking them. I would have thought someone would have described what we were seeking. Then I remembered. No one had seen the scrolls. Outside of the Fae, Cael was the only one who had seen them—when I gave them to him. The only other person would have been whoever took them from Cael.

“They’re scrolls,” I answered, “wrapped in leather.” I held my arms to indicate their length. “They would be pretty easy to recognize, since the writing is all in Fae.”

“The faeries have their own writing?”

I nodded. “Oh yes. They used to speak it, but nobody does any longer. I only know a few words.”

“Tell them to me.” Darian smiled. I wondered if I had given him too much potion.

“I shouldn’t,” I said. “Since I’m not a faerie, it doesn’t matter what I know.”

“Pretend.” Darian was insistent. “I want to hear it. You’re the first faerie I’ve ever met, even if you deny it. And I think it’s fascinating.” He motioned to the kettle. “If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have made that night potion.”

“Liquid Night.” My own words proved his argument. I inhaled a deep breath and said to him the first words I ever learned in Fae. They were jumbled, and I knew if Raisa Bannon were there, she would have corrected my pronunciation. I had forgotten how out of practice I had become.

Darian’s smile told me he didn’t know my flaws.

“Do you want to know what it means?” I asked him.

“No.” Darian kept smiling. “It’s magical not knowing. That way I can give it my own interpretation when I dream about you saying that to me.”

His words made my cheeks warm. I
had
given him too much Liquid Night. “If you never took the Fae Scrolls,” I said, changing the subject, “and they never made it to Morgan, might they still be in Aisling?”

“Where?”

I shrugged. The scrolls could be anywhere: hidden under a stone, tucked secretly in barn, stored safely in a home. I gasped, remembering the fires.

“What’s wrong?”

“If the scrolls were left in a home that burnt down, then they’re lost forever.” I cursed at myself for thinking such a thing.

“We won’t have to check those.”

Why was he so cheerful?
I shook my head and tried to act upset. I turned away to hide a smile. Darian was already making the search easier. In a way, I thought that if we had grown up together, and if I hadn’t accused him of killing my fiancé, we might have been friends. I liked him.

“We should avoid the center of the village during daylight,” I said. “To everyone else, you’re still the bandit, and people in my village know me.” I dipped the cup into Liquid Night and took a portion for myself. “We’ll need to sneak in.”

“So,” Darian sounded satisfied, “to redeem yourself for not being perfect, you need to become a bandit?”

My plan sounded so sinister spelled out like that. “Yes,” I answered, “it’s something like that.”

We talked the through the morning, planning our route into Aisling. Darian’s knowledge of my village surprised me. He knew where everything was, every shop, almost every house. He even knew where my home had once stood. As we plotted, we decided the first place to start was Owen Dorsey’s home. It seemed an obvious choice, since that’s where the scrolls were taken from; it was also the most dangerous. Some of our captors worked for Owen. If they were looking for us—there was no reason to think they weren’t—then walking to the home of their employer would not only be risky, it could be fatal.

“We need to sneak in,” I said, though I had no idea how to do it. “Maybe if we hide in the bushes, we can wait until no one is near. If Owen isn’t home, we can go right in.

“It won’t be that easy,” replied Darian. He arranged small rocks in the sand like a map. “There are always people traveling near that house. The busyness never stops. Men are always coming and going. Near the road, I found plenty of food that fell from their wagons.”

“Is that why you were there?” I finally asked the question on my mind. “The day I chased you?”

Darian nodded, but seemed focused on his map, rather than my question. “It’s not a good idea to wander there. We need to watch it. Maybe things have changed since we were in the village.”

His logic made since. Sneaking into Owen’s home wasn’t going to be any easier, but knowing what we could be up against in our search was a step forward. After a small meal of water and berries, we gathered some supplies for our mission. I grabbed the knife first, but when Darian convinced me that I hadn’t the character to cut someone, I handed it to him. My violent temper, as I saw it, wasn’t much to a man like him. I could hurt someone if provoked, but so far, he had been the only one able to conjure that side of me. We put out the fire—there was no sense in risking the smoke trail while we were out.

Darian also had a great idea—one I hadn’t imagined. By scattering the dirt at the entrance of the cave with branches, it looked like no one had been there for years. He even scooped some water dripping down the cliff and launched it casually across the dirt to make it into mud. “We’ll know if someone came,” he said, pointing at the mud. “Footprints don’t lie.”

When we reached the stream marking the end of my land, we stopped and waited. There was no sign of anyone, least of all Owen’s workers or men from Morgan, but I wouldn’t take any risks. I wasn’t a criminal, and didn’t have the nerve for adventures like this. I coughed a few times to empty my stomach of the nerves that bound it tight.

Hugging the mountain, we wandered south. I had played in this forest as a child, but everything looked different now. The woods were thicker than I remembered and many times, we needed to cut our way through the undergrowth to continue. We didn’t see anyone, which gave me hope that we could be successful.

Awkwardly, we ducked under the trees until reaching the first small house. It wasn’t Nia’s, but a small hunting shack that her father had built for guests he didn’t want in his home. Darian knew this building as well. Next to the house stood the smokehouse where he had been kept by the Elders.

“Let’s not stay here,” he whispered. His arms trembled and he kept leaning on me, away from the smokehouse.

I understood his fear, perhaps better than anyone did. The smokehouse looked so tiny now. Anyone held in such a place was bound to leave changed. I shuddered at the thought that our prison in Morgan was the same size, or smaller.

I gripped Darian’s arm. “I don’t like this, either,” I said, quieting my voice into quick stabbing words. “Let’s go back.”

Darian didn’t have a chance to disagree. Several men walked past the trees ahead of us. I dashed behind the home and pressed my back against its wall. Darian stood next to me, trying to control his panting. While we stood there, trembling, the men’s voices announced that they were close, but not approaching.

Darian peered around the edge of the home. “They’re not leaving.”

The nay of horses and the crunch of wagon wheels on pebbles added to the noise.

“Customers,” I whispered. I lowered myself to the ground and crawled so that I could see. “Owen’s home is past the trail.”

Every movement, every motion from the men on the other side of the trees, made my heart pound louder. My hands felt sticky, and pressed against the dirt, they became soiled and grimy. I wiped my palms on my dress, just to rid myself of the feeling.

Darian twisted back into the shadow of the wall. “This is no good. If they come closer, they’ll find us. There’s no cover.”

“We can hide inside the house,” I offered, whispering just loud enough that I couldn’t tell the difference between my thoughts and my spoken words. “No one would expect us to be in there. We can peek out the window.”

“What if someone lives here?”

I grabbed Darian’s wrist. No one has lived here since—” I remembered.

“Since what?”

“Cael.” My voice angered me. “Cael lives here.”

“Who is Cael?”

I suddenly felt more afraid than ever before. “We need to get out of here.” I pulled Darian toward the trees without an explanation.

He kept whispering questions, but I refused to answer. Instead, I kept walking and glancing back in the direction of the small house and the men we’d left behind. I was focused, no longer worried about the scrolls. I was worried about being caught. When we finally reached the stream, I hunched over for breath. Darian stopped beside me.

“What was that about?” he asked. “Why did we leave?”