Dirt (The Dirt Trilogy) (6 page)

“We’ll never get out. It’s a trap!” he insists.
I ignore him. He has to be wrong. How can something so
beautiful be a trap? I’m going and he isn’t going to stop me. I pull
away from him and head downhill in a trance. Drugged. Inebriated
by the air around me.
“Come on.” He picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. I
fight him with everything I’ve got, which isn’t much.
“Put me down! Put me down!” My fists beat against his back
without relent as he carries me up the mountain. By the time we
reach the top of the peak, I’m exhausted. He isn’t fazed. Not the
least bit short of breath. I’ve calmed down by this time and he sets
me down. My mind is clearer now.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“I expected that to happen. Don’t worry about it,” he laughs his
subtle mouth slightly curving at the edges. “You’ve got a nice right
hook.”
“I didn’t?” I could feel the color of red seeping from my olive
complexion.
“Right here.” He points to his left cheek, which is adorned with
a crimson splotch. It’s almost as if he’s proud of it.
“I
don’t remember. I’m so sorry.
What happened?”
ask
mortified.
“It wasn’t you. Don’t blame yourself. It’s the valley. Once you
enter, you don’t come out. It’s a trap put there by The Dark Thorn
hundreds of years ago. No one can destroy it. To destroy Millseu
Feraib would mean the destruction of all living things around it.
Every plant, every bit of life within one thousand meters of it edge.
All of it would die.”
“How were you able to resist it?”
“Years of training.”
“How did we get there? The last things I really remember were
those men attacking us.”
“Orange sand. Pixie powder. It’ll take you to one of three
points in Durt. All of which are dangerous and for different reasons.
I chose Millseu Feraib because it’s the closest of the three to Ivy’s
house, but we’ll have to walk a while longer.” I’m getting tired and
the sun illuminating this world starts to set giving the sky a hue of
deep orange and red. Small specks of cloud frolic around us as we
trek upwards. Rowen reaches out for me “Can you walk a while
longer?” As he touches my hand, he touches my soul. I wonder if
he knows.
“I’ll try.” He pulls me from the ground. “What do you mean
you chose this Feraib place?”
“When you use orange sand, and believe me it’s not easy to
get, you have to focus on your destination.”
“How do you know what your destinations are? Do the pixies
tell you?”
He smiles at me in a debonair sort of way. It’s obvious I amuse
him.
“What’s so funny?”
“You don’t talk to pixies. You can barely see them. Orange
sand is only issued to a certain few, by authorities higher than me.
It’s not something you use lightly.”
I put my hands in my jean pockets and raised my shoulders up
around my neck in a moment of total ignorance. “I guess there is so
much I don’t know. I...”
“Be still. Shhhh,” Rowen instructs, placing his finger over my
lips stopping
me midsentence. A nearby
bush rustles. “Show
yourself,” he insists.
When the creature steps out of the foliage, my heart skips a
beat and my jaw meets the ground.

“
It’s only I, Master Rowen.” The creature appears to be halfhuman, half-rabbit and speaks in an accent that sounds awkwardly
British. I know now to expect anything and from the look of things,
anything is possible.

“
Scout, how have
you
been?” Rowen grasps
the creature
around his left furry forearm with his right hand. Scout returns the
gesture with his right hand at Rowen’s forearm and shakes it. We’re
apparently in friendly company. Scout’s torso is human, but from
the waist down, he appears to be rabbit, wearing only a khaki vest
and brown fur covering his lower half. His face is human-like
except for his massive floppy fur-covered ears and a humanish nose
twitching spontaneously without purpose.

“
What is your mission, Master Rowen?” He looks at me over
his crooked round spectacles. “Is…is…this who I think it is? How
could you bring this danger to us?” He takes a step back as if I have
leprosy and his nose twitches with even more vigor.

“
I had no other choice,” Rowen responds. I’m starting to think
I’m a contagious plague. Realizing his subconscious display of
rudeness Scout takes a step toward me.

“
Hello there.” The creature bends toward me slightly at the
waist and I reciprocate the motion.
“Hi,” I return apprehensively.
“Dusk is upon us. Come, you both appear tired. You can rest
tonight in Skewantee, but only for one night. I do not want Straif to
find it here.” His speech is very formal and proper. He apparently
knows I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Skewantee would
be like…uh… your Switzerland. We have no enemies and I aim to
keep it that way.” He tilts his head forward in an apparent need of
bifocals.
We follow the creature into the forest as he hobbles ahead of
us; his gait is much like a disabled kangaroo. On occasion, I think
maybe I’m dreaming. This reality is beyond real and more than my
consciousness can deny.
As we enter the Skewantee Village, more of Scout’s kind
emerge from behind every tree, every bush, and every cane hut,
entire families, children, lots and lots of children. They’re sort of
like human children in very realistic bunny suits with detachable
rabbit ears, some floppy, some stand straight up. Their eyes are
solely on me. Whispers and chatter rumble among the masses.
Scout leads us through the crowd into a small, woodsy hut with a
roof of cane and thatch.
“Remember. Only for one night. I have a village to protect,” he
says matter-of-factly.
“I
appreciate
your
kindness,
Scout.
I
have
my
own
responsibilities, as well,” Rowen says.
“Sleep well my friend.” And the creature waddles from the hut.
A warming fire flickers in the center of the room in a ceramic
bowl and woven mats lie on the ground. I sit down on one of the
makeshift beds and try to get a grip on the last twenty-four hours.
Rowen plops down on the mat across from me, the warming fire
between us. An awkward silence fills the room. As I lie down, my
eyes focus on the ceiling. Finally, we’re alone with no distractions
and I want answers.
I make a move to find some reality. “You said this was the
home of my mother and my grandfather is, well, the king...so...what
does that mean exactly?”
“Your mother was like me. A faery.”
That’s apparent. I want more. He’s still holding back. So, I ask
again looking over at him with insistence.“And what does THAT
mean exactly?”
“It means a lot. First of all... you are half-faery, half-human.”
“Rowen, what’s going on? Please tell me. Everything I’ve ever
known and everything I am has been a lie. I’ve been a lie. I need to
know the entire truth. Everything about my mother has been a
secret. Please don’t do to me what has been done to me my entire
life. I have to know the truth,” I demand.
Rowen turns away. Maybe, if he does not look at me the truth
will be easier. “It’s forbidden for humans and faeries to marry.
Your existence threatens the entire human race, the entire world of
Durt,” he says.
I sit straight up, confused.
Do I really want to know the rest?
Maybe, I’d be happier living in ignorance, living
in
denial, living
without knowing.
My voice grows louder. “I’ve done nothing. I don’t have the
power to destroy anyone, nor do I want to, so what the hell are you
talking about.”
“If they get a hold of you, it will be hell.” His face glows from
the warming embers.“None of this is your fault, Ashe. You’re a
victim of your own existence.” His eyes walk upon me slowly.
I drop my face into my hands placing frustration in my palms.
“I’m so confused.”
My protector leaves his place in front of the fire to sit beside
me. Putting his arm around me, he pulls me close to his warmth as
small tears seep from my eyes. There’s more than comfort here. I
can feel his passion wanting more, but holding back. I try to get
control of myself and my emotions which are verging on the edge
of a cliff with no end. He pulls me even closer, consoling, but
desire is building between us. His body is warm against mine,
giving my tears an excuse to subside. For a moment, an energy of
security surrounds me.
He slowly removes his arm and places his hands on my
shoulders, gently pushing me away as if he has been caught in an
inappropriate situation. He looks me in the eye. The passion still
there, but laced with an air of seriousness. “I want to tell you a
story.” I listen trying not to be distracted by wanting him, trying to
hear his words, trying to keep my emotions from influencing the
moment. His eyes could drown me with the glistening of ocean
waves, but I have to be strong. I have to focus.
He sits back and removes his hands from me. “Centuries ago,
after our kind left the human world, a boy was born. His father, a
faery, went to the human world through the Portal of Feda. He
committed the unforgiveable. He fell in love with a human. This
woman had a child, a bithling, half-human, half-faery. His name
was Luis.” He pauses for a moment looking away.“The boy was
put to death at the age of eighteen.” His masculine voice cracks.
A surge of razor sharp cold runs through my body. “What on
earth did he do? What was his crime?”
Rowen drops his head as if in shame.“He was born,” he says
plainly and without inflection. His face still turned away from mine.
“W...W...What?” I stutter as I start to put things together.
I’m a
bithling. My father and my mother...things are looking bad.
I won’t
let myself think of the possibilities.
“The Elders of the time handed down the sentence with great
sorrow. Their hearts were broken by the decision they had to make.
To take the life of anything or anyone is against our belief. Durt is a
place of peace and life. At least this is what we strive for.”
He leans toward me and attempts to look at me again, as he
continues to explain. His gaze calms the fears boiling up in me.
“Ashe, there are forces in our world evil beyond anything the
human world has ever seen, beyond any vile depravity you can
imagine. You met two of these forces in the forest before we went
to Millseu Feraib.”
“Phagos and Duir?”
“Yes, and they are the least threatening of the evil ones known
as The Dark Thorn.”
“What do they want with a bithling? With me? What can I do
to them? I’m no threat.”
“When a bithling reaches eighteen years of age their blood
becomes priceless and powerful. It holds the key to control all of
mankind, human and nonhuman. Straif, the leader of The Dark
Thorn, has been waiting for you to reach the age of maturity. The
age that could annihilate us all. If a faery eats the flesh or drinks the
blood of a bithling, they become immortal in our world as well as
your world. They develop powers surpassing anything manmade,
anything and everything. The power faeries hold are mild compared
to what could happen if The Dark Thorn were to get ...” He stops
midsentence. He can’t finish his thought in words.
I sit frozen.“They’re going to ….kill….?” The incomplete
question is forced. Saying the words makes me sick to my stomach.
In ten days, I’ll be eighteen. In ten days, it will all be over for me.
The woven flaps that make for doors of the tent fly open.
“Something to eat?” I jump on hearing the words. A Skewantee
female comes in and with her slightly hairy human-like hands
places a wooden bowl of fruit and vegetables beside me along with
a
gourd of
water. The
moment is silent. I’m
thinking
the
unthinkable.
“Thank you, Lilly,” Rowen answers. Her inelegant large paws
move out of the tent stepping backwards out of the door trying to be
as quiet as possible.
“You are quite welcome, Master Rowen. Both of you rest
well.” And she’s gone.
“That’s Scout’s wife. She’s very mothering. It comes naturally;
she has about fifteen children.”
I’m not thinking about food at this point. The sickening feeling
intruding my gut is overwhelming. My life was so simple in
Montana. So predictable. So safe. Now, nothing is predictable.
“Luis’s story is going to be my story. My tragedy. My death.”
Sensing my turmoil, Rowen brushes his hands softly against
my cheek.“Your death is what I am here to prevent. I am your
sentry, your protector. Your safety and survival are my sole purpose
in life.” His complexion glows from the fire light. He’s seemingly
confident of his ability to keep me from the fate he’s revealed.
“What will happen to me? Will the Elders have me killed?” I
ask wanting more certainty. I want an answer that will assure my
safety. My life.
“Your mother, Nuin, was the daughter of Arcos. You are the
next in line for the throne of Durt. Nuin went against her father’s
wishes and broke the law by marrying Henry, but Arcos loved Nuin
so much. So, you are why I was chosen. He’ll protect you at all
cost. There’s never been a bithling other than Luis. He didn’t
survive to see eighteen. You are the only bithling who has lived to
this point. So, what your life will be like is a mystery, but I do
know Arcos loves you and will do anything to protect you. You
need to trust me, Ashe. On my life, Straif will never harm you.”
His face is full of passion and his eyes draw me in. He moves
closer, his face a fragment of air away from mine. “You are why I
was born. Why I even exist. I was chosen at a very young age out of
many to be your protector. An honor I don’t take lightly.” His lips
are a breath away. I want to know how his mouth feels pressing
against mine. Each curve. Each crease. The moment stands still.
I’ve never known the tenderness of another’s lips. His right hand
moves down my shoulder rubbing my upper right arm. I linger.
He gives in, his lips full with heat, his gentleness intense,
making me want more. With this one perfect kiss, he has me. For
the ten longest, most wonderful seconds of my life I am right where
I want to be, in the incandescence of Rowen’s arms, his body
pressed to mine warming me with his. When out of nowhere, he
pushes me away hard. Not gently, not with care. He breathes
heavily as if he’s been running as he tries to pull away from desire.
“I can’t do this.”
“What is it? What did I do?”
“I am your protector. Th…there… are rules. I’ve trained. I
don’t understand how...” He bursts up from the floor ruffling the
mat.
“What are
you talking about,
Rowen?
What’s wrong?”
I
screwed up by being born and now I’ve done something to push
Rowen away.
As he storms out of the tent, I follow after him. He presses his
palm against the flat part of my upper chest below my neck. His
fingers firm against my clavicles, “Stay here.” I stop in my tracks
with his hand up against me. As he approaches the doorway, he
hesitates; turning back with a softness covering his face and he
pulls his hand away. His voice softens, but I feel a hole bore
through my soul. A vacancy fills my heart that isn’t supposed to be
there.
“It’s not you, Ashe. It’s…it’s me. I’ll be outside. Get some
sleep.”
How can I sleep now?
There’s a price on my head and Rowen has rejected me. On the
inside, I’m in a state of panic as everything falls apart. I step back
from the door and plop down on the mat. I’m exhausted, physically,
emotionally, mentally. I figure besides being alive, I can’t do any
damage while I sleep.