Don't Let the Fairies Eat You (10 page)

“You’ll stay with the living if it’s up to us,” Bahn said.

“I hope so,” Leo said. “I prayed, and then I whispered, and then I promised, and I’m still alive, so it all must count for something.”

The three headed south into the woods, kicking away briar patches while the snow deepened around their ankles. Thick, black tree limbs grasped at their shredded clothes like a giant’s hands. Black clouds nearly blotted out the moonlight and instead showered them with white, frozen flakes, swirling so densely through the air that only the darkness of tree trunks told the men where not to go.

“The stench of death is steaming off of me,” Remkar said. “Off of
all
of us, like the battlefield wants to go with us.”

“All I smell is cold, like winter’s already frozen my nose and beard,” Bahn said, wiping tiny icicles from his chin.

“Some men of the cold lands say the two scents are the same,” Leo said wearily. “But I think Remkar has it right. I smell death, like it’s after us. I fear all my prayers and whispers and promises have only gained us a pursuer, longing to take me from the edge of death and into the reaper’s embrace.”

“That’s only the pain talking,” Remkar said.

Yet he felt the same—something was tracking the three through the woods. None could say what it was at the moment, only that the forest seemed filled with a great breath that overtook all the ground they’d already covered. And whatever it was grew with every heavy step.

“I see a little house,” Bahn said, and sure enough there was a small, stone house nestled in the trees, with frost covering its hay roof and ice filling the mortar spaces between its bricks.

The men knocked on the door and were greeted by a plump old witch. “No shelter for you here at the cottage called Grund’s Rest,” she crooned. “Not even for a wounded man. But take this pail of water. It will stay warm in even the worst of winter and never freeze, so as to warm your insides and preserve you to the forest’s end.” With that, she closed the door in their faces and left the men out in the cold.

“If she weren’t a witch, I’d break down the door and we’d take the house,” Remkar said. “As it is, I know her sort and she’d just as soon wring the water from our bodies to make more of the stuff.”

Remkar and Bahn carried Leo and the pail away from the house and went on walking the woods. The presence behind them grew larger, closer, and soon louder than the storm sweeping around the men. When they looked back again, they found the legion of both armies following closely, some riding dead horses, others slinging spectral weapons over their ghostly shoulders, and each man of each army looked as intangible and fierce as the winter that killed many of them.

“It’s our dead, come to take me,” Leo said. “I prayed to the heavens that I wouldn’t be alone in my dying moments. I’m to perish from this wound and join our old ranks.”

“They won’t have you,” Remkar said.

“They will if they mean to,” Leo said.

“They won’t if they can’t,” Bahn said.

He took the pail from Remkar and spilled it slowly in a line behind the men, so the liquid would run for a ways through the snow. As the water moved, it melted some of the snow around it, and a narrow stream formed. The great legion of ghosts that filled the woods behind the men stopped at the running water, unable to cross.

They walked a ways further, the cold nipping at their limbs and biting at their fingers. “Are you sure ghosts can’t cross running water?” Leo asked Bahn.

“Absolutely. Everyone knows that.”

“Then I feel something else following now.”

All the men felt the same—something was tracking the three through the woods. It didn’t fill the forest behind them like the army of ghosts, but seemed to creep, as if trying to sneak up on them. The wind howled, shaking all the trees, and the men thought they heard something answer the wintry cry.

“I see a castle,” Remkar said, and sure enough the trees ahead seemed to have grown from a mighty, forgotten keep, with only a large, steel door revealing the structure to be anything more than a wall.

The men knocked on the door and were greeted by a giant of humbler size than most. “No shelter for you here in Castle Duncard,” he bellowed. “Not even for a wounded man. But take this lantern which holds a child of the western wind. It will blow the snow from your path and make your journey easier.” With that, he closed the door in their faces and left the men out in the cold.

“If he weren’t a giant, I’d have slipped inside before he closed the door and taken the castle,” Bahn said. “As it is, I know his sort and the smaller giants are often the tougher kind, on account of having to survive all the bigger ones. He’d shove us into lanterns and he wouldn’t care if we fit.”

Remkar and Bahn carried Leo and the lantern away from the house and went on walking through the woods. The noises behind them grew into pattering paws in the snow, yips and snaps, and at last came the howling of a hungry wolf pack, gliding over tree roots in search of the men.

“It’s the wolves, come to take me,” Leo said. “I whispered to the earth to end my pain and she’s sent her wild beasts to take my life. I’m to perish as they open many more wounds and devour my flesh.”

“They won’t have you,” Bahn said.

“They will if they mean to,” Leo said.

“They won’t if they believe they should be elsewhere,” Remkar said.

He took the lantern from Bahn, and instead of clearing the snow from their path, he aimed the lantern to the west and then let loose the wind from within. A thin howl sailed through the air, and then a mighty howl of wind answered back, far from the west, as if calling its child home. The wolves stopped in their tracks, as if they’d heard some great wolf spirit’s cry, and went running to the west, ignoring the men’s tracks.

They walked a ways further, the wind eating the last remnants of warmth from their skin and swallowing the feeling from their faces. “Are you sure the wolves followed the howling wind?” Leo asked Remkar.

“Absolutely. They can’t tell wind from wolf as a lion can’t tell a waterfall’s roar from his own.”

“I feel something else following now.”

All the men felt the same—something was tracking the three through the woods. This time, darkness filled the forest behind them, and yet it also crept like the wolves, only too forceful to be sneaking up on them. This pursuer cracked tree limbs and stamped heavily, while it seemed as formless as ghosts.

“I see—I don’t know what, but something lives there,” Leo said, and sure enough there was something ahead of them, a structure made of bowed trees tied together and of other trees nestling so close that they formed a dwelling around a stone door.

The men knocked on the door, though it hurt their knuckles, and were greeted by a thin man, nearly as tall as the giant, with great stag horns spreading from his head. “No shelter for you here in the trees of the old world, reborn in the new,” he said sternly. “Not even for a wounded mortal. But take this skin that was peeled from another man after his death. It is still warm from my fire and will keep your blood running despite the chill of this night’s most mischievous of winds.” With that, he closed the door in their faces and left the men out in the cold.

“I don’t know what he was,” Leo said, draping the human skin over his good arm. “But I wouldn’t have dared taken his home even if I did.” The other men agreed.

Remkar and Bahn carried Leo and the skin away from the tree cluster and went on walking the woods. The stomping behind them grew louder, and closer, and when they looked back, fiery eyes glowed from the darkness and a man’s figure breached the trees. He had different horns than their last benefactor, more like a goat’s than a stag’s, and the white flakes of the storm vanished against his red skin, like blood drenching a snowy battlefield.

“It’s a devil, come to take me,” Leo said. “I promised him my servitude if I could only live to leave the battle and now he’s come to take my will and soul. I’m to do evil in these lands and suffer wounds on my conscience greater than any given to my body.”

He waited for the others to say it wouldn’t have him, but neither man said a word as they went on walking. The fiend stalked after the three on hooves as black as the sky and snapped tree limbs away with fingers as quick and mean as the chilly air. Leo couldn’t help looking back as the devil loomed closer and closer, and then finally he decided to let it think he’d kept his promise.

He tore the cloth away from his shoulder and rubbed the human skin given by the antlered man against his wound until it came away splotched with blood. Then as the men passed a low-hanging branch, he tossed the skin up over it, where it hung waiting for Leo’s hunter. When the devil reached the dangling skin, he pounced and tore into it, ripping and shredding and tumbling in the snow, madly wrestling with the thing as if it were fighting back against him.

The men walked a ways further, over a snow bank, their legs weakening and toes stiffening. “Are you sure that skin will keep the devil at bay?” Remkar asked.

“No,” Leo said.

“Because I feel something following now and I believe it’s the same.”

Leo looked back and saw a shadow following them. It came closer and closer with each step, as if its stride was much greater than that of the men who carried him. The skin he’d abandoned walked behind them, like another soldier who’d survived the battle, only now lean muscles filled its limbs and torso, horns protruded from its head, and bony claws stretched from its hands, tearing through where fingers would have been. A hideous screech ripped through the woods and sent the warriors cringing as they moved forward.

“We can’t outrun him,” Remkar said.

“I might,” Bahn said. “I could scout ahead and see if there’s an end to these woods.”

“You could give me to him,” Leo said. “My promises are what drew him here.”

The three men whispered to each other and then a plan came to mind. They circled back through the trees, leading the hungry devil back the way they’d come, until they found the makeshift stream where they’d left the ghostly army.

“Devil!” Leo called hoarsely. “See all these souls here? You could have many more than mine, as these ones linger here!”

The bait worked, bringing the devil out into the open, and the army of souls quickly cleared away, seeking the heavens or some other respite away from the monster in shredded skin. The creature held still once he’d revealed himself, unsure of which souls to chase down, or whether to come after Leo again, and the men made their move in his moment of indecision.

Remkar opened the lantern to the east, letting loose a thin howl, and a mighty one answered as before. Other howls joined it and the pack of wolves returned from the west, bursting over the warm stream where the devil stood near the freezing warriors. They glanced at Leo once, his scent still in their snouts and on their tongues, and then found his scent again in the ragged flesh hanging around the shadowy devil, mixed with fresh blood and a deader man’s stink. The wolves lunged at once onto the skin, snapping and biting at their new prey, and as easily as they could tear apart a dead man’s skin, they tore apart the devil that had merged with it, pulling away his horns, bony claws, chunks of flesh, his hooves, and soon pieces of his face.

As the devil was ripped limb from limb, prayers and whispers and promises unfulfilled, Remkar and Bahn carried Leo away with numbness overtaking their limbs and chests. They could scarcely feel their feet anymore, and about halfway to reaching where they’d turned around, the two carriers collapsed in the snow beneath the trunk of a fat tree, its branches as barren with life as the men below.

As the storm eased, the witch came wandering by and shook her head at the sight of the dead men. “I couldn’t shelter you with the dead at your heels. If you’d not wasted my gift, you might’ve stayed warm.”

When the witch was gone, the giant came thundering past and shrugged at the sight of the dead men. “I couldn’t shelter you with the wolves slavering after you. If you’d not wasted my gift, you might’ve found your way faster.”

At the storm’s end, the antlered man came strolling by and lifted the dead men into his massive arms. “I couldn’t shelter you and risk association with that eater of men’s wills. If you’d wrapped the skin around you and pretended to be someone else, you might have beaten the devil. Waste not, want not.” But he knew just as well as the witch and the giant that the men couldn’t hear a word he said. He then carried the bodies to his home in the woods, where he could make use of them.