Spirit (18 page)

“True, but who
knows how much good it will do?” She stepped fully away from him.

“Fae,” Steven
said with a pleading note in his voice.

“I said I would
try, Steven, and I will.” Steven let it drop and walked her out of his room. I
closed my eyes, not wanting to follow them down the hall. I knew Gwyn would
break camp in a few more hours, and while I didn’t know if I would stay with
them, I knew I needed some sleep.

When I tried to
figure out where to put the looking glass, it occurred to me I needed supplies
before I struck out on my own. I didn’t know if anyone would help me, but if
not, then I could cross that bridge when I got there.

“Balor,” I
whispered. His ears pricked up, turning in my direction before he opened one
red eye and peered at me. I wasn’t the only one pretending to be asleep around
here. “I need you to hide this for me,” I said, sliding the looking glass under
his belly, the fringe of fur covering the silver handle.

“Thank you,” I
said, reaching to scratch his snout. He nuzzled my hand before laying his head
back down on his paws, closing his eyes, and finally going to sleep. I scooted
back down to lay next to him. Turning my head, I buried my face in Balor’s fur,
curling one arm around him just to have something warm and alive to hold on to
while I slept.

Chapter 10

I spent the next
two nights slowly stealing the supplies I needed. Most of the creatures didn’t
seem to care when I took something since everyone pretty much just shared
everything. First I took some saddlebags from one rider-less horse for my own. The
brownie man tending the horses glared at me but didn’t stop me. I even managed
to get some new clothes. My sweater was so torn, filthy, and stretched out it
had to be replaced.

Pulling that
sweater off and throwing it away felt wonderful. A dwarf man had brought me a
grey shirt with a wide collar and a thick black leather belt to help make the
over-long shirt fit. They were sent by Gwyn, much to my surprise. I was just
glad I was wearing my leather boots and jeans when I died. Wearing the same
clothes I wore when I died was strange, not that I had any idea what else was
supposed to happen. I hadn’t really expected to wake up in the tunnel of light
wearing some white gossamer robes with a glowing halo hanging over my head and
a harp strapped to my belt.

But I admit, I
had thought the afterlife would be a little cleaner, prettier even, than a strange,
stagnant quasi-existence. The Outlands weren’t much different than my time on
Earth as a wraith, going from place to place, looking for an escape, nothing
ever changing. But I had a feeling that was because I had followed Gwyn this
whole time. He’d been looking for the edge for who knows how long, so why would
things change now? It was time I took off on my own.

That night’s ride
felt longer than the others somehow. We ran through the mountains until the
magic took us, and suddenly we ran along a wide, rushing river. By the time we broke
for camp, my back was in knots and my legs tingled with exhaustion. For a
moment, I wondered if Gwyn had purposely exhausted me so much to keep me from
leaving. I checked my horse’s saddle, making sure it was secure as best I
could. One of my saddle bags was full of raw vegetables and salted meat I took
from various barrels on the wagons, and the other had a rolled up blanket, a
short sword, and a small, pistol grip crossbow and short arrows. My magic looking
glass was wrapped in cloth to protect it.

I pushed a stray
lock of hair out of my face as I stretched out my back. Gwyn’s braid was still
holding up, but a few tendrils had started to pull loose. I would have loved to
pull the braid loose, go wash my hair, and ask Gwyn to braid it again, but he
had gone back to avoiding me since that last moment in his tent. I was a little
embarrassed to admit I dreamt about his fingers in my hair as he methodically
brushed and braided it.

My back cracked
in multiple pops as I straightened up. I groaned, half in relief and half in
pain. I wanted nothing more than to find a soft spot to lie down and get some
sleep. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced Gwyn had kept us
riding longer than usual just to wear me out so I wouldn’t leave that night.
Well, he was in for disappointment. A little soreness wouldn’t keep me there
any longer. I had a feeling, while no one seemed to care I was gathering
supplies, they wouldn’t like it if I left the group, taking supplies and a
horse with me. I planned to sneak away once everyone was asleep.

“I don’t even
know your name,” I said to my horse as I ran the brush over his side. The horse
chewed his grass, only the twitch of his ear letting me know he heard me.

“Talking to
horses now,” the brownie man said, sneaking up behind me. I jumped and spun
around to see him just a couple of feet behind me.

“Don’t do that!”
I said as my heart pounded against my chest.

“Hmph.” He shook
his small brown head. He narrowed his eyes at me and glared for a moment before
he walked to another horse and started to fuss over it.

“What’s wrong
with talking to the horses?” I asked when I knew my voice was under control,
but he didn’t answer. I turned back to my horse to finish brushing him and
asked him, “Everyone’s just so chatty around here, aren’t they?”

“Fearghus,” the
brownie man answered, his voice muffled as he stood under a horse, checking the
saddle straps.

“Excuse me?” I
turned to look over my shoulder.

“Fearghus,” he
said again, his gravelly voice still difficult to understand even though he
stepped closer to me to be heard.

“Fearghus?” I
repeated. He nodded and turned back to the horse. “So, is that his name?” I
turned back to my horse, lifting my chin to look up at him, his head nearly two
feet above mine.

“Fearghus, is it?”
I asked, feeling a little silly asking a horse a question, but he dropped his
head, bobbing it in answer. I blinked up at him, my mouth open and words caught
in my throat. I recovered quickly enough to say, “That’s a lovely name.”

Placing one hand
on his muzzle, I gave him a scratch. The brownie man scoffed behind me, making
an ugly noise as he laughed at me. I rolled my eyes but refused to turn around
and acknowledge his mockery. Fearghus pushed into my hand, his fist sized eyes
blinking slowly.

“So,” I
whispered to Fearghus, “are you ready to go with me tonight?” He shook his head
from side to side, tossing his white mane before bobbing it again. I patted his
neck, and just as I was about to toss the brush in the pail with the others, I
stopped. Looking around, I realized the brownie man had left, so I quickly stuck
the brush in my saddle bag with the weapons.

“You can thank
me later,” I whispered to Fearghus.

I was just about
ready to leave. The only thing left I could think of that I really needed to
survive on my own was flint to start a fire. I made my way over to the nearest
fire ring and sat between a bloody Redcap and a Roane, his seal skin laid out
on the riverbank, making him look like a deboned animal. His hollow eyes were like
two black holes gaping at me. I grimaced and turned my face away, trying to
force that gruesome thought out of my mind.

The ground
rumbled under me, and for one panicked moment, I thought it was an earthquake.
A mound of dirt spilled up and a gnome crawled out. He looked like a perfect,
tiny little human, only two, maybe two and a half feet tall, bald with bright
red sideburns that hung past his jaw. He had a matching goatee and bushy red
eyebrows over his bright green eyes. His black boots were faded brown with the
same dirt that coated his hands and arms. He had a pair of old-fashioned
goggles strapped to his head.

Clutched in his
hand was a small flint, and with a scrape of a tiny dagger, he had the fire lit
in moments. He stood back and watched the fire as if he thought it might gutter
out. When the flames took and began to grow brighter and hotter, he nodded,
satisfied, and dropped the flint and knife by his feet before clapping his
hands, causing a cloud of dirt to appear.

I stared at the
flint, so painfully close I could just reach out and grab it. Dinner was stew
again, and all of the fires had a potbelly caldron simmering away. When the
bowls were full and everyone was distracted by the food, I extended my leg and
covered the flint with my foot. Sitting that way for so long was awkward, but I
had to wait until everyone was done eating and turning in.

When I was the
only one left on my side of the fire, I got to my feet a little clumsily,
picking up the flint as I pretended to fix my bootlace. A quick glance told me
no one was paying me any attention, so I snatched up the knife as well, tucking
it into the back of my belt. I grabbed a forgotten coat from a wagon as I made
my way back toward the horses to wait out the last stirring creature. It felt
like hours before the entire camp was asleep, but with the moon never moving, I
couldn’t be sure.

Once I had
Fearghus untied from the trees they had used as a makeshift stable, I led him by
the reins downriver. I decided a slow and quiet escape was smarter than trying
to ride him out. I expected galloping away would rouse the camp. Soon the
glowing firelight faded in the background and the quiet of the forest pressed
close. I was so grateful to have Fearghus with me, another living, breathing
thing to fend off the oppressive loneliness.

The sound of
Fearghus’s hooves on the ground was hypnotizing, and I was almost lost in the
rhythmic sound. At first, I didn’t hear the sound of pounding feet coming up behind
me. I spun at the last possible second, reaching for the knife at my back when
a blur of white barreled into me, knocking me to the ground. Fearghus screamed,
rearing up and kicking at the air before he came back down, dangerously close
to my face. He took off at a run.

When I opened my
eyes again, Balor stood over me, just like he had when he first found me in the
forest. This time he wasn’t smiling down at me. His mouth was closed and his
red, red eyes were dark with anger.

“Balor,” I
hissed, “you scared me to death.” The irony was lost on the dog.

Balor put his
nose close to my face and huffed, blowing warm air over my face. His furry
white eyebrows twitched as he glared at me.

“I’m sorry,” I
said, pushing him off of me. “I can’t stay; I have to find the edge.” Though he
had moved back when I pushed him, he stepped forward, shoving me back to the
ground.

“Balor,” I said,
my voice harder, “enough.” I shoved him again, but he only moved back enough to
let me sit up, not to stand. We stared at each other.

“Do you…” I
hesitated, tilting my head to the side. He mirrored my movement. “Do you want
to go with me?” Balor took a half step into my space and put his nose against
my cheek, the cold wet making me shiver.

“Won’t Gwyn miss
you?” I asked.

Balor huffed
against my cheek, blowing the loose tendrils of hair away from my face.

“All right,” I
said, chuckling lightly. “You can come with me.” He licked my face, from jaw to
hairline, making me grimace.

“Ugh,” I said,
standing up, “thanks a lot.”

I walked over to
the river and splashed my face with the cold water to wash off the slobber.
Drying my face with my sleeve, I looked around until I spotted Fearghus, yards
away, grazing on the grass at the edge of the river.

Luckily,
Fearghus had gotten over his scare, and he let me take his reins and guide him
away from the riverbank, back up onto firmer land. Balor paced beside me,
watching everywhere I went as if he was afraid I would leave him again.

I debated
continuing to just walk beside Fearghus; after riding so much, I didn’t relish
the idea of getting back in that saddle. I held the reins with Fearghus on my
right and Balor on my left, leading us farther downriver. The two huge animals
gave me more warmth than I had felt since coming here. The rush of the water drowned
out any sounds the hidden creatures in the forest might have made, leaving us
in a sort of calm quiet that made the sound of the trotting horse behind us
sound like machine gunfire.

Instinctively I
ducked, making both Balor and the horse taller than me. Balor swung his head
almost a hundred and eighty degrees to look over his shoulder, his red ears
pointing straight up. Fearghus danced nervously next to me as the approaching
horse came closer. They must’ve realized Balor or I was gone, and they were
coming to get me for stealing so much. Maybe I had pushed my luck and broken
some cardinal rule and now they were hunting me. If they were and they caught
me, I would be stuck here forever.

I grabbed the
pommel of the saddle, set my foot into the stirrup, and tried to swing up, but between
my sore and stiff muscles and Fearghus’s height, I couldn’t move my leg that
fast and came back down, bouncing on my toe. My curse was lost in Balor’s booming
bark as he bounded away. I pulled again, shoving off of the ground after one
last bounce, and managed to get myself balanced in the stirrup to throw my leg
over the saddle.

“Balor!” I
called over my shoulder as I tried to get Fearghus turned around in the right
direction. Balor barked again and again, mixing with the echo of the horse’s
gallop. Fearghus screamed, turning this way and that until I was dizzy with the
cacophony and swirling trees.