The Secret of Dreadwillow Carse (6 page)

Chapter Ten

THE PEOPLE OF THE MONARCHY, OF COURSE, DID NOT
HAVE BAD
dreams. Such was the nature of their never-ending bliss. They all woke refreshed every morning, having dreamt only of honey-flavored tea and purple-tinted sunsets and everything that made them happy. They had no idea what a nightmare even was.

But Aon knew. Nightmares like the one where the mirebramble had overrun Emberfell, the vines pulling everything in their path toward the black marsh. Or the one where the Carse grew bigger and bigger before her eyes. From an early age, Aon found her nightmares told her what no one else knew about the black swamp. The Carse was what fierce things feared encountering in their own nightmares.

With Dreadwillow Carse on their right, Aon and Laius crept beneath the night's black canopy. Aon cast a glance toward Nine Towers. Was Jeniah in her room this very minute, waiting for word on what Aon had discovered? Was she pleading with the queen to release Aon's father and choose someone else to serve her? Yes. Aon had faith the princess was honoring their bargain. Now Aon had to find the strength to hold up her end.

The pair stopped at the entry to the Carse, framed by low-hanging dreadwillow branches. Laius was pale. Aon hadn't considered how the Carse would affect him while he waited. He kept eyeing the marsh and dancing in place. It was as if he
wanted
to be afraid but had no idea how. She pointed to a patch of grass across the road.

“Why don't you wait over there?” she said. “Farther away.”

Laius didn't need to be told twice. He hugged the hourglass close to his chest and scurried to the clearing.

Aon clenched her teeth. She was used to the Carse's effects, but not immune. She nodded at Laius. “One hour.”

Laius turned the hourglass upside down. Before she lost her nerve, Aon plunged into the Carse.

One . . . two . . . three . . .

She held her lantern out at arm's length. The bog was pitch-black during the brightest of days. It hardly seemed possible it could be darker at night. And it
wasn't
darker.

But it
was
creepier.

Twelve . . . thirteen . . . fourteen . . .

Every sound—the snapping of twigs beneath her feet, the breeze caressing the moss-laden tree branches—issued an ominous warning. Everything about this place had a single message:
Get out
.

It took all of Aon's concentration not to run from the Carse back to Laius. She focused on the image of her mother's face, the one she summoned each night before bed. She imagined what it would be like to be reunited with her father. Both tricks gave her the power to walk forward, inch by inch.

A twisting path of rounded earth served as the only way into the Carse. On either side of the winding trail, viscous ponds the color of tar burbled, spewing gray gas that mixed with the noxious mist all around. Aon held a damp cloth to her mouth to fend off the familiar stench of spoiled milk and olive juice. Fear coursed inside her like a ferocious summer gale, hot and relentless. She turned her head to listen hard for the singing. Yes, if she could just hear the song that filled her . . . But even that fervent wish couldn't distract her from the overwhelming urge to leave.

Aon reached into her pocket and clutched the royal crest she'd received from Jeniah. She drew strength from the thought that she was here on a mission from the princess.

It wasn't enough. Retreating from the Carse was more than an urge now. It was a need.

Why did I think I could do this?
she asked herself. She'd tried over and over to explore the Carse. Entering in the name of the Queen Ascendant hadn't changed anything. It hadn't made her any braver. The crest hadn't given her Jeniah's immunity. She was doomed.

No!
She stopped alongside the hook-shaped rock, unable to pass the imagined barrier. She ground her teeth, pushing back with what little will remained. All these dark thoughts. They didn't belong to her. The Carse was responsible.
This isn't my despair
, she reminded herself.
This isn't my despair
.

Once she realized this, she held her ground for the very first time. She couldn't move forward past the rock, but she didn't have to run. Aon smiled grimly at the darkness. “Stalemate,” she whispered.

The slime ponds on either side of her path belched. Giant bubbles rose to the top of the mire and popped. Aon gripped the lantern tightly, preparing to use it as a weapon. She had to be ready for anything. She'd never seen the muck churn so violently.

She watched as something short and bulbous emerged, as if forming from the mud itself. The implike creature that stepped onto the path appeared to be made of wet clay and weedy flotsam, head and body in one misshapen sphere. It resembled a toad but was the size of a large dog. Its stubby, taloned feet—covered in black warts—pawed at the moist soil as it struggled to stand upright. It coughed repeatedly—the long, spindly arms on either side of its head flailing—until it spat a thick green liquid at Aon's feet.

A second, identical imp surfaced and joined its partner to block Aon's exit. The white-hot fear inside her chest threatened to explode as the creatures approached. She'd never seen anything like these beasts before. They looked like monsters from a fairy tale.

Both creatures gurgled and shook, their enormous eyes raking over every inch of Aon.

“She does not belong here,” the first imp said.

Aon hadn't expected to hear the imps speak. She considered: if they could speak, could they also maybe . . . sing?

“Perhaps she was sent . . . ,” the second imp mused.

“Yes,” Aon said quickly, sensing an opportunity, “I was sent.”

“As food,” the second imp finished as a gob of saliva tumbled over its jaw and down its muddy chin.

The pair waddled slowly toward Aon, who backed up until she tripped on a root. She held up the royal crest.

“Look!” she said. “See? Do you know this?”

The imps immediately stopped, their lips drawing back in surprise.

“Oh,” the first creature said. “The Highness.”

“Yes,” Aon said with a sigh of relief. “Princess Jeniah sent—”

“We have been expecting the Highness,” the second creature said. It bent low in what Aon assumed was a bow. “We live to guide the Highness.”

They think I'm the princess
, Aon thought. Of the Monarchy's spare laws, there were probably punishments for pretending to be royalty. But going to a dungeon would be welcome if breaking the law kept her from being eaten.

She stood and squared her shoulders, as she imagined the real princess must do all the time. “I come here seeking information about the Carse.”

The first creature's jowls quivered. “But of course, the Highness. Pirep only lives to serve.”

Aon started at the name. She quickly composed herself when the imp eyed her suspiciously. “Pirep,” Aon repeated with a nod. She turned to the second creature. “And you . . . You must be Tali?”

“Tali, the Highness,” the second creature said with a croak. “Tali lives to serve. And eat. Tali lives to eat and serve.”

It can't be
, Aon thought. It was a coincidence. A very strange coincidence.

“If you know who I am,” Aon said coolly, “then you know I am
not
to be eaten.”

Both creatures shook their heads vigorously, sending flecks of spittle and slime in every direction. “Oh no, the Highness,” Pirep said. “Pirep and Tali will guide and not eat.”

“But maybe eat later,” Tali muttered.

Pirep thumped Tali behind the ear. “No! No eating! Guiding!” Then Pirep waddled down the path. “Come, the Highness. Pirep knows just what to show.”

Aon took a step forward, but no more. She tried to follow, but foreboding held her back with the strength of steel chains. Her jaw trembled as she fought, but the feeling was too strong.

“I . . . can't,” she gasped. “I can't go in any deeper.”

Tali kicked at the ground. “Gots to pay the toll, she has. Highness or no!”

Aon's stomach fell. She hadn't thought to bring money. She pulled a tin brooch from her shirt. Her mother had made it for her. It had no monetary value, only that of a memory. But it was all she had to offer.

“Will you take this?” she asked.

Tali spat. “Shiny things? The Carse does not want shiny things.”

Pirep tapped her foot impatiently. “The Highness is not knowing?”

At first, Aon was confused.
The Carse does not want shiny things
. How could the bog want
anything
? But then, she knew it was true. The Carse planted thoughts of terror in her head. If it was possible for the Carse to give, surely it could also take.

But what did it want? She thought of her previous visits to the Carse. The memory of how good it felt to pour out her grief roiled inside. Grief, later replaced with relief. Give and take.

Sadness. The Carse wanted sadness.

“I'm going to tell you a story,” she said. “It's the story of a princess who was soon to become queen. You see, her mother was dying . . .”

Aon spun the story of Jeniah and her mother, being careful not to let on that she herself wasn't the princess. Aon described how Jeniah must have felt at the thought of losing her mother. It required little imagination.

As Aon wove the sad tale, the creatures began to sway. They closed their eyes and lay on the ground, sighing contentedly. The sadder the story became, the more these creatures grinned with their terrible, fat lips. They were enjoying it.

They were feeding off the misery.

Finishing the story, Aon came to understand something about the bog. Something she'd never known. The Carse wasn't just a place that evoked sadness. It
thrived
on gloom. That was why she felt so welcome here when she came to cry.

“The Highness is too good to Pirep and Tali,” Pirep said, sighing with satisfaction.

And Aon realized she didn't feel terror anymore. Gingerly, she took a single step past the hook-shaped rock. Then another. And another. Nothing. No bone-chilling fear. No unrelenting desire to run. That was the secret to going in deeper. Sharing such profound misery had kept the effects of the Carse at bay. Aon had to laugh. That made her the only person in Emberfell who could
possibly
complete Jeniah's mission.

She knew she had to leave the Carse soon or Laius would alert the princess. “I'll return,” she said to Pirep and Tali. “Will you guide me then?”

“We will always guide the Highness,” Pirep said. With that, the twin creatures stepped from the path and disappeared back into the silty gray froth.

Aon ran down the path, back toward Emberfell. She felt renewed. For once in her life, the piece of her that was broken had proven useful. Her brokenness would be the key to giving Jeniah what she needed and getting her father back. And maybe, just maybe, learning the truth about her mother.

Here, sadness was a currency.

Here, Aon was wealthy.

Chapter Eleven

YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS,

I have so much to share about my recent visit to Dreadwillow Carse! I don't know where to start.

Today, I ventured farther inside than I have ever gone before. What I saw during my time there was much as you would expect. In many ways, the Carse is a swamp, like any other.

And yet, it isn't. When you're inside the Carse, it's as if the swamp itself is trying to force you to leave by filling you with terror. I think this is meant to keep anyone from going to the very center of the Carse. Perhaps that is where I'll discover the secret you seek.

One strange thing I learned: I think the Carse is nourished by sadness. In fact, once I'd expressed sorrow, the terror lifted briefly, and I found it possible to go deeper in. But this doesn't make sense. There is no sadness to be found anywhere in the Monarchy. If the Carse requires sorrow to survive, how could it possibly exist and flourish? It's too big for my tears alone to sustain it. I hope to find the answer as I continue to explore for Your Highness.

I worry, though, that being in the Carse takes a toll. When I returned home, I collapsed. I recovered, but it may be a few more days before I feel strong enough to return. I promise to carry out your orders and learn everything I can.

Please know that you and your mother, the exalted Queen Sula, are in my thoughts. I pray you're both well and content.

Your obedient servant,

Aon

P.S. Throughout the Monarchy, the people tell the story of Pirep and Tali. Does Your Highness know this tale?

Dearest Aon,

I had no idea that being in the Carse for a long time would make you ill. Do whatever you need to recover. Perhaps we should rethink this plan. Whatever secrets lie in the Carse are not worth exposing you to illness.

But you have definitely made me curious. Every monarch has worked tirelessly to ensure that people throughout the land are happy. If, as you say, the Carse needs sadness, how does it survive? If anything, it should be choking on the joy that surrounds it. Very strange.

I would ask my tutor, Skonas, but I doubt he would tell me. He is the most frustrating man I've ever met! He's supposed to be teaching me how to be a queen but his lessons are wrapped in half-truths and misdirection. I worry I won't learn what I need to know in time.

Thank you for asking of my mother's well-being. She has days when she sits up brightly and even sings softly to herself. Other days, she never leaves her bed. Her advisors perform more and more of her duties. But she remains committed to seeing her subjects happy and content.

Which raises a question: I have been told that sorrow is a royal privilege. You said that the only way you were able to proceed was by sharing your sorrow. How is this possible?

Her Royal Highness,

Jeniah, Queen Ascendant

P.S. I've never heard the story of Pirep and Tali. Is it a story of the Carse?

Your Royal Highness,

I promised you that I would learn the Carse's secrets, and I won't let you down. We don't need to rethink our plan. I will do as I said, knowing that my father's safe return relies on it.

Am I in trouble? I never meant to do something that was a royal privilege. The truth, Your Highness, is that I've always been able to feel sadness. I know I'm not supposed to. I can't help it. I've tried—so hard—to be as happy as everyone else in the Monarchy. I know that's what the queen wants. And I know it's what you will want when you become monarch.

If I could, I would take an oath right now to never again be sad. But if I made that vow, I'd break it. Not because I wanted to. Sadness is not a choice for me. It feels natural. I've hidden it very well. I don't know why I can't get rid of it like everyone else.

I will understand if you can no longer use me as your emissary. I will also understand if you have me arrested. No matter what you decide, I hope you can forgive me.

Your humble and obedient servant,

Aon

Dearest Aon,

Please know your father will be safely returned no matter what you discover in the Carse. When you put it that way, you make me feel like a scoundrel who is holding him hostage. Clearly, a mistake was made in his taking, and I will see that corrected. I only regret I have been unable to return him to you thus far. Things are a bit more complicated than I first thought. But know that I am trying to send him home to you.

As for feeling sorrow . . . You're right. The queen and I both want our people to be happy at all times. If anything, I worry that we have in some way failed you. I'm saddened that you know the burden of melancholy. Each day, Mother fades a little more, and now it feels like sadness is all I know.

But this just proves that you spoke the truth the night we met. You really are the only person who could possibly help me. If being able to express sorrow is required to explore the Carse, I need the one and only person besides me in the whole of the Monarchy who can do so. More than ever, dear Aon, I'm relying on you.

There is nothing to forgive. You remain my most trusted emissary.

You mentioned a story to me—about Pirep and Tali—but
didn't explain why. What is the story? Is it important?

I would write more but I'm told my tutor is looking for me. I have no desire to see him, so I'm going to hide in the bathing chambers. Goodness knows he's never seen a bath. It's the last place he'll look!

Fondest wishes,

Jeniah

P.S. I would prefer if you addressed me as Jeniah. We are sisters, of a sort, sharing a great secret. I like the thought of having a sister.

Your Royal Highness,

You are too kind to forgive me. I admit, it's strange to share my sadness with someone. No one else knows this about me. My mother knew and she urged me to hide it. She said it would only cause problems if others knew. Imagine what she'd think if she found me talking about it with the Queen Ascendant!

I don't see sadness as a burden. I just see it as part of me. I only wish I knew why. It makes me different, and that is difficult. I feel broken.

Oh, the story of Pirep and Tali. I don't know if it's important or not. I suspect someone might be playing a trick on me. The story is hundreds of years old. It's about two girls who lived in Callowton, the town on the other side of the Carse from Emberfell. The two girls were wicked and often cried, feeling sad against the monarch's wishes. One day, they went into the Carse and were never seen again. Depending on who's telling the story, it sometimes ends with the Carse eating the girls.

Even though it's just a story, I've often wondered if there was some truth to it. Many years ago, my mother showed me our family tree. I learned that I had distant cousins whose names were Pirep and Tali. They lived about three hundred years ago. And there are no records of what happened to them. I'm starting to suspect it's not just a tall tale. I think Pirep and Tali might live in the Carse.

I'm sorry to hear your tutor is not helpful. I learned how to blow glass by watching my mother. Perhaps you could learn how to be queen by watching yours.

Your humble, obedient, and grateful servant,

Aon

P.S. I'm not sure I can call you by your first name. Not that I don't also feel like we're becoming sisters. But I want to show you how much I respect and love the Monarchy. You will always be “Your Royal Highness.”

Dearest Aon,

You are brilliant! Yes, clearly I need to watch my mother govern. That will tell me everything I need to know about being a queen. I've never watched her when she consults with her advisors. I've never been allowed. But surely they can't keep me out now, with so little time left. An excellent opportunity to watch her is coming up soon. Who needs Skonas? I can do this myself.

I'm embarrassed I didn't think of this myself. If you never learn anything useful about the Carse, I will forever be indebted to you for this. Many thanks!

Jeniah

P.S. Why do you feel Pirep and Tali live in the Carse?