Beyond the Crimson (The Crimson Cycle) (7 page)

I felt his arms wrap around me as the pressure of the speed forced my eyes closed; I could feel my skin struggling to keep up with my body. I
was sure I would disintegrate—become nothing but dust—and the only thing holding it together were the strong arms that squeezed me tight. I felt a change in direction, as we suddenly started plummeting downward; the speed started to slow, and in a split second I felt the pressure of hard ground break our fall; his body taking the brunt of the blow. We tossed and tumbled rolling for what seemed endless, helpless to the mass amounts of momentum that kept us spinning before finally finding our rest.

She held her newborn son for the first time; the agonizing pain she had just felt was suddenly worth it
, and she would do it all over again for him. He was beautiful. She stared at his perfect little face and smiled. He looked like her, she decided. Black hair, straight angled nose, and even though the eye color was hard to see, she had a feeling they would look like hers too.

             
“Do not coddle him,” her husband scolded.

             
She looked up to his stern unrelenting face; how could she not coddle such a precious creature? “But he is my son,” she whispered.

             
He shook his head with reproach. “No, he is a future king. You want for him to grow up strong, do you not?” he asked.

             
She nodded, but she was unable to stop staring at the baby curled up in her arms.

             
“Love will make him weak,” he continued harshly. “You must refrain from it.”

             
A sharp pain stabbed through her because she knew he was right, and for a moment she wished her son had been a daughter because then she would be free to fuss over her baby. But the thought passed quickly; this world was a terrible place for girls. Women did not have power. A daughter would be forced into a marriage as though she were merely a payment, spending her life below a man, practically a servant, just the way she was. No, it was better that her baby was a son. At least, he would be free.

She felt weaker than she ever had before
, and she despised it. She handed him to the wet nurse and vowed to not hold him again because if she became attached now, there would be no letting go later.

             
She sighed, rolling her aching body to the side, letting only one tear slip. It hurt almost more than she could bear, but she would have to learn to not love him and the easiest way to do that, would be to hate him.

It was excruciating. The weight of his body compressed mine into the ground, armor digging into my front side while silver cups stabbed my backside, pressing together to constrict my lungs from breathing.

I gasped, desperately using the small amounts of breath I had to call out his name
, but he didn’t respond. To my horror, I realized he was unconscious. I squirmed to get out from underneath him, but his weight was more than my strength.

The short breaths of oxygen I managed to gasp in weren’t enough. Colors faded into shades of gray, nearing closer to a black oblivion. Desperately fearing for my life, I gave his body one last shove
, and to my amazement, this time he moved. My lungs expanded as I rolled to my side, gasping in deep breaths of air like a swimmer who had been under water for far too long, voraciously consuming the oxygen around me. My vision returned, but when I turned back around, I was certain there was no way I was seeing clearly.

It took a while to understand how he stayed elevated above ground, but then my eyes rested on the most repulsive creature I had ever seen
, and it was holding Brendelon by the back of his armor at arm’s length.

It stood at least ten feet tall, hunched awkwardly over like its body had been broken but never repaired, dull green skin stretched thinly over its protruding bones, covered in thick black hair. Its face
was the most disturbing feature: three bubble-like eyes popped out, placed above a long crooked nose and wide snarling mouth that revealed long yellow jagged teeth, slithering with slime.

“Brendelon!”
I screamed, scrambling to my feet. “Brendelon!”

His head bobbed up, eyes slowly flutter
ing open. “A troll,” he groaned, as if this were nothing more than some common inconvenience.

The monstrous three-eyed creature let out a terrifying growl, spraying thick mucus-like spit over everything within a four-foot radius
, and Brendelon laughed. He actually let out a wicked laugh in the face of this horrendous beast. I would never understand his humor because he was surely moments away from his doom.

“Well, you certainly are one of the ugliest wenches I have ever woken up to!” he ridiculed.

As if understanding the words, the monster flung him backwards, knocking him into a thick tree stump with a sickening thud. He slumped to the floor on his hands and knees, shaking his head for a moment, but was quickly on his feet with his sword drawn.

“An unpleasant girl too, you ought to have at least one good quality,” he taunted, grinning once again.

The beast roared in anger, throwing its mangled hands up to its face. It stomped forward, taking a hard right swing directed at Brendelon’s head, but he ducked under the long hairy arm, missing the blow by inches, but the tree wasn’t nearly as lucky as it splintered almost in half.

The monster hissed out, using its other repugnant arm to swing down like a hammer into a nail
, but Brendelon met the troll’s arm with his sword. The troll grinned a ghastly smile, as it pressed its weight down on the blade, forcing Brendelon closer to the ground. The blade was hardly penetrating the monster’s thin stone-like skin, and it seemed not to mind the small gash it caused on its arm, as it continued pressing downwards. Brendelon stopped grinning and worked to move from the monster’s weight, but the beast pressed on.

He groaned and finally gave up position, somersaulting forward away from the troll’s towering form and popping back up in a defensive stance, swinging his shield forward with one hand, holding his sword in the other,
and gracefully moving his feet in what seemed to be choreographed steps. The troll continued to swing its gangly arms over and over—untactful but dangerous—and each time it came near, Brendelon dodged and moved to a new position, never once taking a swing at it. The troll slowed its movements, clearly becoming tired, then threw its hands up to is nauseating face tilting it towards the sky like a wolf, as it let out a ferocious howl, and I wasn’t sure, but I swear the green eyes glitter in amusement. 

It suddenly sna
pped its head back down as if it had been spoken to and grabbed a small tree by the base, ripping it clear out of the ground as though it were merely a weed, and in the same motion, hurled it into the self-assured knight, who crouched down, unable to dodge the line of fire. He used his shield to deflect the blow, but the force hurtled him backwards, landing him on his stomach. The beast grunted a laugh and stomped towards him.

I screamed at it—not knowing what else to do—b
ut it was only concerned with the hunched form of the knight on the ground. It stooped to grab him by the back of the armor again, but as it bent down, Brendelon twisted his body and in one quick thrust jammed his sword right into the beast’s middle eye. By reflex, it dropped its hold on him, wailing miserably as it clutched his oozing pupil. Then with a sideways hack of his sword, the beast’s belly slit open letting disgusting green entrails spill out. My stomach turned, as I watched the troll doubled over—howling in agony—now hunched to a height more equal to Brendelon’s. He took a final swing, silver blade sliding across a green throat, as slime slithered down its miserable body. 

A tremor ran throughout the ground
, as the creature fell forward, never to move again, and Brendelon collapsed besides his conquered beast, panting.

I squeezed my eyes closed, lowering
my face to the ground, trying to fight the acid that continued to spin in my stomach. Taking deep breaths to calm myself, I reopened them catching a sparkle of beautiful green lying in a pile of dead leaves.
Mr. Riley’s emerald
.  Guilt spilled over to drown out the disturbed feeling I had been fighting, as I thought of all his beautiful artifacts now smashed into nothing. I grabbed it by the chain and slipped it around my neck for safekeeping. The least I could do was return the emerald necklace. I wasn’t sure how I would ever be able to explain this, but at least Mr. Riley believed in magic, maybe he would understand. I shook my head; there was no way. I was experiencing it, and even I still wasn’t sure if I believed it.

Brendelon slowly began to stand,
hair slightly sweaty and the light blush under his cheekbones now a deeper shade. “Are you alright?” I called, running over to him. I was about to reach out to touch him in a simple polite gesture but quickly pulled my hand away suddenly, feeling unsure of his reactions. 

His eyes flashed bright green
, and the right side of his mouth curled into a grin. “Of course.” But he winced as he straightened.

The stench of the deceased troll rolled into our nostrils
, and I scrunched my nose. The smell seemed to protrude from every pore of its disgusting body. He laughed at the look on my face and wrinkled his perfect nose up as well, looking rather adorable. “It will only get worse,” he said. “They are foul creatures.”

He plucked his bloodied sword from the ground and took one look back at the beast, looking like a boy who just won a carnival prize
, and I couldn’t help but smile back at the playful eyes that finally showed themselves from their hiding place under the deep terrifying glare.

“Do you think we are in your time?” I looked around, trying to ignore the ghastly misshapen heap beside him.

He shrugged his shoulders. “It would appear so.”

“Do you know
where we are?” I asked, staring into the endless amounts of wilderness, everything looked the same.

He nodded, following my gaze. “I
t is where she cursed me,” he replied with a touch of aloofness in his voice then suddenly he whipped his head back to face me, mercurial once again as his eyes darkened. “Why did you not listen?” he growled.

I stared at him confused.

He grabbed my wrist roughly, holding onto to the bracelet as his eyes searched around us. “The vortex is gone.” He thrust my arm away from him. “I told you to release the bracelet!” he yelled wildly. “Now…well, now I am burdened with your unwanted company!”

“
I’m
the one burdened with
you
,” I snapped, forgetting to be intimidated by him. “I was only trying to save you. I didn’t know I would be stuck here!” But as the words came out, I felt stupid for even saying them.

He flinched, staring at me blankly, and for being as rude as he was, he looked as though he had never heard such a tone before.

“Save
me?
” he finally spat, scrunching his eyebrows together as his face contorted in a strange way. He probably thought I was as ridiculous as I felt. After all, he was a knight and I was a nobody; how could I even fathom saving him?

“I mean
, at least try to help you,” I mumbled, trying to cover my embarrassment.  

He blinked and looked away, muttering something about fool
ishness then glanced back to me. “Merlin will figure it out,” he muttered. And though I should have been, I wasn’t overly concerned about it. Perhaps my subconscious was convinced I was still curled up in my bed.

He stared into the distance, seeming suddenly quite calm for someone with such a dynamic character. Then he grasped my wrist and pulled me forward, leading the way through forest trees to our left that spiraled out of the ground refusing to touch the light of the sky as they curled in helpless arches to the forlorn dirt. He remained quiet, eyes occupied, appearing to be deep in thought as though carefully constructing a plan. Monotonously, we crunched through dead leaves and small sticks that had fallen to the miserable ground, filled with small patches of grass desperately fighting for life amongst the dreary wilderness.

“Take caution,” he finally said in a low tone. I liked the sound his voice—when he wasn’t yelling or growling—it was deep and demanding, but had a calming melody to it, like water over rocks. “It is enchanted here,” he continued, pointing to some trees that formed a barrier into a surreptitious dwelling. “We are near the fairy folk. They make you forget things, ensnare you for years… but it would only feel like days.”  The words dripped out provokingly, as he gave me a roguish look, and with the remote and sullen atmosphere around me, I couldn’t help but feel the terror that breathed against the back of my neck. He smiled, appearing to be amused at the frightened expression on my face. “They play dark tricks and cannot be trusted.”  

“H—have you ever been trapped there?” I hated how small my voice sounded, bu
t there was something about him—besides his rude demeanor—that made me nervous. I felt like I was standing in the presence of an A-list celebrity or better yet some undiscovered Roman god of beauty. 

             
He smiled at me wickedly, pushing branches that swung down low out of our way. “No, they would fear the misery I would cause had they tried.”

             
I looked away from the devious eyes and tried to swallow, but realization wound a tight ball in the center of my throat. He
was
scary. It was as though his good looks were merely a weapon used to lure in prey, and the chivalrous façade was only a tool meant to leave the victim credulous and vulnerable; I was beginning to think I shouldn’t trust him.

             
“What do they look like?” I asked, skimming the surroundings to find any signs of these fairy people and to take my mind off the short poundings of my vigilant instinct that resonated throughout my torso.