The Sweet Far Thing (47 page)

“Not entirely true,” the heart answers. “You have another fear, greater than the rest. A fear wrapped in desire; a desire wrapped in fear. Will you say it?”

Felicity pales noticeably. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she answers.

“You must answer truthfully!” the fairy hisses.

The heart speaks again. “Shall I name your fear?”

Felicity falters a little, and I do not know what could frighten her so.

“You fear the truth of who you are. You fear that they will find out.”

“Very well. You’ve said it; now let me pass,” Felicity commands. The door swings open again.

The others take their turns. They confess their longings and fears one by one: to marry a prince, being alone, a loving home with flowers along the walk, the dark, a never-ending banquet, hunger. Pippa admits that she fears losing her beauty. When she states her desire, she looks straight at me. “I should like to go back.” And the door opens wide.

Ann is so ashamed she whispers till the gate asks her to speak more loudly.

“Everything. I fear everything,” she says, and the heart sighs.

“You may pass,” it says.

At last it is my turn. The heart thumps in anticipation. My own beats just as fiercely.

“And you? What is your greatest fear?”

Circe warned that I must answer honestly, but I don’t know what to say. I fear that my father will not heal. I fear that Kartik doesn’t care for me, and I fear equally that he does. That I am not beautiful, not wanted, not lovable. I fear that I will lose this magic I’ve come to cherish, that I will be only ordinary. I fear so much I cannot choose.

“Go on! Out with it!” The flittery creature places her hands on her waist in impatience and bares her teeth at me.

Felicity puts her pale face to the bones on the other side. “Gemma, come on. Just say something!”

“What is your fear?” the gate asks again. A cold wind blows from the other side, chilling me. The clouds churn and boil, gray and black.

“I fear the Winterlands,” I say carefully. “I fear what I will find there.”

The gate’s cold breath pushes out in a long, satisfied sigh, as if it smells my fear and loves it.

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“And your wish?”

I do not answer straightaway. The bitter wind slaps my cheeks, makes my nose run. The heart of the Winterlands is impatient.

“Your wish,” it hisses on.

“I…I don’t know.”

“Gemma!” Felicity pleads from the other side.

The fairy zips around my head till I’m dizzy. She digs her claws into my shoulder. “Tell! Tell!”

I bat her away and she snarls at me.

“I don’t know! I don’t know what I want, but I wish I did. And that is the truest answer I can give.”

The heart beats more quickly. The gate rattles and moans. I am afraid I have angered it. I shrink back.

But the gate creaks open, the bones banging in the harsh wind.

Felicity grins at me and reaches out her hand. “Let’s go before it changes its mind!”

My foot hovers near the entrance, then comes down on the rocky ground of the other side. I’m inside the Winterlands. There are no flowers here. No green trees. It is black sand and hard rock, much of it covered in snow and ice. The wind shrieks and howls across the tops of the cliffs and nips at my cheeks.

Great handprints of dark clouds move on the horizon. Small puffs of steam rise to meet them, creating a billowing mist that casts everything in a thin wash of gray. There is a feeling to this place, a deep loneliness that I recognize in myself.

“This way!” The fairy bids us follow her toward the craggy mountains, pockmarked with ice, that guard the horizon.

Our feet leave faint traces in the black sand as we walk.

“What a melancholy land,” Ann says.

It is barren and mournful, but it does have a strange, hypnotic beauty.

There isn’t another soul for miles that we can see. It’s eerie, like a town that has been emptied. For a moment, I think I see pale creatures watching us from a distance. But when I shine the torch, they are gone, a mirage of the mist and the cold.

I can hear the sounds of water. A narrow gorge cuts through the cliffs and a river runs straight through it.

Keep to the river, Circe said, but this seems to be certain death. The current is fierce, and the pathway on either side of it looks no wider than our feet.

“Is there another way?” I ask the fairy.

“None that I know of,” she answers.

“I thought you said you were a guide,” Felicity mutters.

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“I do not know all, mortal girl,” Golden Wings snaps.

We tread lightly on the rocks, careful not to slip on the patches of glassy ice that show our pale faces like ghost mirrors. I take Wendy’s hand and help her through.

“Look!” Ann shouts. “Over there.”

A magnificent vessel floats through the mist and drifts to the black sand of the shore. The boat is long and narrow with oars sticking out of holes in the sides. It reminds me of a Viking ship.

“We are saved!” Pippa shouts. She hikes up her skirts and rushes for the boat. The factory girls follow. I grab Felicity by the arm.

“Wait a moment. Where did that boat come from? Where does it go?” I ask the fairy.

“If you want to know, you will have to take the risk,” she answers, showing sharp teeth.

“Come on, Gemma,” Felicity pleads, watching Pippa and the others get ahead.

“We’ll be fine,” Ann agrees, taking the torch from me, ready to run.

“Might be treacherous for the sightless one.” The fairy lifts a lock of Wendy’s hair and puts it to her nose, inhaling, then gives it a lick. “Leave her behind. I’ll look after her.”

Wendy holds fast to my arm.

“I most certainly will not,” I say.

The fairy flutters near my mouth. “She’ll only slow your passage.”

“I’ve had enough of you, I think.” I blow hard and the green shining beastie tumbles through the air. She curses me as I lift my gown and run for the boat, pulling Wendy quickly behind me.

“Right,” I say, stepping into the pitching craft. “We’re on our own now. Let’s keep our wits about us.

There could be traps. There could be trackers—or worse.”

“But what about your power, miss?” Mae asks.

Felicity takes a seat and tucks her sword between her feet. “Precisely. We’ll serve notice if they’re foolish enough to trouble us.”

“We don’t know that I’m a match for them,” I warn. “We know nothing about the Winterlands at all, really. The magic isn’t always within my control, and I don’t want to have to employ it unless there’s no other choice.”

I look about at the solemn faces of my friends, and I suddenly feel small. I wish there were someone else to carry this burden. The passage ahead is impossible to see clearly; the mist sits heavily on the water, and I hope we’re not sailing into a terrible mistake.

“Ready, then?” Bessie calls. She’s got one foot on the boat and the other on the narrow ledge.

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Ann hands the torch to me again. I secure it near the front of the boat to light our way.

“Cast us off, if you please, Bessie,” I answer.

She gives us a sharp shove, and the boat drifts out into the river, away from any safe harbor. We scramble to places at the oars. Pippa stands at the bow and peers through the mist. Felicity, Wendy, and I work the same oar, grunting with the effort. The water’s weight makes it heavy to move but soon we ride upon the river. The mist thins, and we marvel at the great masses of glistening rock that rise on either side of us like the enormous weathered hands of a forgotten god.

The only color in this bleak landscape comes from the primitive paintings that stretch along the inside of the cliffs. The boat passes pictures of terrifying specters, their cloaks spread out to show the souls they’ve devoured. Water nymphs tearing the skin from a victim chained to a rock. The Poppy Warriors in their tattered knights’ tunics and rusty chain mail. Black birds circling over battlefields. Amar’s likeness stares out from the rock—the white horse and the ghastly helmet—and I wish I’d not glimpsed it. There is so much drawn here, an entire history, that I cannot possibly absorb it all. But one image does catch my eye; it shows a woman standing before a mighty tree, her arms stretched out in welcome. The mist thickens again and I can see no more.

“There’s something ahead!” Pippa calls. “Slow your pace!”

“I’m not…a sailor…or a…pirate,” Ann pants between strokes.

We turn on our planks to see what it could be. A vast rock formation fronts the gorge. It has two holes at the top and a wide hole at the bottom, like a screaming face.

“Aim for the mouth!” Pip calls over the rush of water.

With a whoosh, the boat hits a sudden drop, and we’re pushed along by a faster current. Mercy screams as a wave of water crashes over the side of the boat. There’s little we can do against the fierce tide. The boat rocks and turns round till we’re dizzy.

“We’ll be dashed!” Pippa shouts. “Steady!”

“We have to row into it!” Felicity shrieks.

“You’re mad! We’ve got to stop—” I say.

Water splashes into me. It smells of sulphur.

“I’m an admiral’s daughter, and I say we need to row into it!” Felicity barks as if she were a commander.

“We’re getting closer!” Pippa calls. “Do something!”

“You heard Felicity—row into it!” I shout. “All your strength now. Don’t hold back!”

We heave with all our might, and I am surprised by the strength in our arms and hearts. We match strokes, and soon, we’re able to right ourselves and head for the gorge’s tall, slender mouth. Four hard strokes and we’re through. The river calms, carrying us deep down into the Winterlands.

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We shout in exultation of our victory over the river, and as there is no one to tell us to temper our outburst, the cheer echoes for a full minute.

“Oh, look!” Pippa calls.

Colored light streams through the sorrowful sky. Gloomy clouds have given way to swirls of purple and indigo, pink and gold. And there are stars! Several of them shoot through the heavens and fall away. It is vast. I feel small and insignificant and yet larger than I have ever felt before.

“It’s beautiful,” I say.

Pippa throws out her arms. “To think we might have missed this.”

“We’re not back yet,” I warn.

Water nymphs undulate beneath the river’s surface, the soft, round arcs of their silvery backs peeking through like a reflection of the starry sky above.

“Oh, wot’s that, then? Mermaids?” Mae asks, peering into the water’s depths for a better glimpse.

Ann pulls her away from the boat’s edge. “You don’t want to know.”

“But they’re so beau’iful!” Mae stretches a hand toward the water.

“Do you know how they stay so pretty? They take your skin and bathe in it,” Ann announces.

“Blimey!” With a horrified expression, Mae snaps her hand back and gets to her rowing.

The river rounds a bend. Fog rolls in again, as thick and white as clouds. The boat comes to rest beside a patch of frozen shore.

“Can you see anything?” Pippa asks, cupping a hand over her eyes and peering through the brume.

“Nuffin’,” Bessie answers. She holds fast to her stick.

“Anything could be out there, waiting,” Ann says quietly.

The boat will go no farther. It seems to have decided the destination for us. A plank lowers and we scramble off. The ship drifts back into the blanket of fog and is gone.

“Wot we gonna do now?” Mae asks. “’Ow we gonna get back?”

Bessie gives her a quick slap on the arm. “Shut it! We’re goin’ on.”

The fog is heaviest here; the landscape intrudes like a phantom. We walk through a barren forest with trees like stunted ghosts. Gnarled branches pierce the mist here and there. It’s quiet. Not a sound penetrates except for the ragged cadence of our breathing.

Something brushes against my shoulder, making me gasp. I turn round, seeing nothing. It comes again.

Above me. I look up to see a bare foot swaying.

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“Oh, God,” I gasp.

A woman’s body hangs from a branch. Sharp twigs wrap themselves around her neck, securing her to the tree. Her skin has turned the graying brown of the bark, and her fingernails are curved and yellowed.

Her eyes are closed, and I’m grateful for it.

But she’s not the only one. Now I see them in the mist, all around us. Bodies hang from the trees like ghastly fruit. An unholy harvest.

“G-Gemma,” Ann whispers. Her eyes are wide and I can sense the scream that she’s holding back, that we all hold back.

Pippa looks at the bodies with a combination of revulsion and sorrow. “I’m not like that. I’m not,” she says, starting to cry.

Felicity draws Pip away. “Of course you’re not.”

“I want to go back. Back to Spence. To life. I can’t be here anymore. I can’t!” Pippa’s on the verge of hysteria. Fee strokes her hair, tries to comfort her with private murmurings.

“This is where them ghouls would’ve taken us if not for Miss Pippa,” Bessie says. With a sharp pull, she rips a bit of filthy fabric free of a corpse’s hem, wraps it around her stick, and hands the stick to Ann.

“You light it so we can see. I don’ like fire.”

Ann pulls matches from inside her dress. She strikes four to no avail. “They must’ve gotten wet on the boat.”

Bessie is adamant. “I’m not goin’ through there wif no torch.” I lay my hand on the stick and put the magic to its purpose. The torch flares to life.

I am repulsed, and yet I have to know, so I reach toward the swinging arms of one of the bodies. I touch the cold, hard hand, and in my fright, a bit of magic escapes. The body jerks, and I jump back.