Forsaken Dreamscape (Nevermor) (12 page)

A
wisp!

Rifter
had once told her that the fairy wisps were dangerous creatures that did not
like humans, and their nests should be avoided at all cost.  Looking out over
the trees, Wren could see now that she had not even noticed the nests until she
had come into a large cluster of them.  They were silent and inactive for the
most part, save for the wisp drifting around overhead, but this told her that
not all of the sacks were abandoned.

Wren
remembered Rifter’s words as clearly as if he were standing next to her now.  
They
are like tiny witches.  They could curse you, turn you to stone, burn you
alive, pull you inside out…
  Passing through this stretch of forest was
like crossing a minefield.

She
was not sure what to do, frozen to the spot.  The fairy had not seemed to
notice her yet, and she understood she needed to avoid that.  Moving carefully,
Wren slipped behind a patch of blackened trees.  She crouched low to the
ground, thinking that the spot would do until she decided on her next move, but
she didn’t know what that would be.

This
is just like sneaking through the hallways at the asylum,
she told herself
with a calming breath.  She hadn’t liked that at the time either, but she had
done it.  She could do this now.

Wren
looked around, wondering if she should try to go back the way she’d come and
attempt to go around, when she noticed a figure coming through the trees.  She
hadn’t expected to see another living soul in these charred woods, but she did
not dare to make herself known until she had discovered who he was, even though
he appeared to be alone.

As
he came closer, she was able to identify his traits.  He was tall and young,
wearing a sleeveless coat of red-brown fox fur that stood out like the fire in
the black woods, but she could not see his features clearly.  He was still too
far away.  She did, however, notice that he was not afraid to walk beneath the
fairy nests, and gave no mind when a few more of the wicked creatures began to
swarm above him.  Didn’t he know that they were dangerous?

She
didn’t want to see him be killed by them.  She had a mind to call out, but it
would be a greater risk for her to do so.  Crouched behind the trees, she could
do nothing but watch.

He
stopped beneath the nests, looking up at the wisps who were growing more
agitated.  Wren could hear the fairies hissing, and she guessed what was
coming.

She
held her breath but could not look away.  She did, however, clamp her hands
over her ears so as not to be affected by a whispered spell.  She watched as he
lifted up a narrow pendant that was on a string around his neck, put it to his
lips and blew into the hollow cylinder. 
A whistle?
  It made no sound
that she could hear, but that did not mean there was no effect.  The wisps
began to complain in harsh whispers like she had heard once before, and then,
one by one, they burst into a thousand flecks of glitter.

Wren
gasped when she saw them explode, seemingly for no reason, but she knew this
man had done it.  The pitch of the whistle must have affected them somehow.

Once
the wisps had all been reduced to a rain of shimmering ash, he took a bow and
an arrow, wrapped on the end with cloth.  Setting it on fire by a patch of
flame that was twisting near the base of a tree, he shot into the nest above,
which promptly erupted in flame.

She
watched him for a long time, keeping quiet and low.  He was methodical and
precise – in no hurry.  He took great care with his arrows, setting them perfectly,
lighting the end and making sure his aim was accurate before he let them fly
directly into the nests.  When the wisps began to swarm, he blew into the
silent whistle and they exploded in bursts of dust.

Wren
could not say whether or not she thought this was horrible, but she knew what
it was.  It was an extermination.

When
he had done this to several nests and no more wisps presented, he stooped to
gather handfuls of the fairy remains into a small bag, collecting the ash of
the forest floor along with it.  Once he was done with that, he rose and turned
to go.  By this time, however, Wren knew she could not let him get away – not
without getting a good look at him.

Could
it be one of them?
 
She didn’t believe that he was a pirate, and though he may have belonged to a
number of other peoples on the island, she had to take the risk to know him. 
She would put herself at his mercy.

Wren
left her hiding place, following along after him.  He didn’t seem to notice
her, but as she crept closer, she got a better look.  He was tall, fit and
blond.  She saw all of the weapons he carried.

A
fog seemed to clear from her mind, revealing the answer.  He was a figure from
her past, no doubt.  Her mind made these connections, and she was certain she
knew him.

“Wait!”
she called, and then cringed, aware of who she was speaking to.

He
turned so quickly that her heart leapt into her throat – especially to see the
long barrel of the gun that was aimed at her, steely and true.  She held up her
hands instinctively to show that she was no threat.  He froze as he stared at
her, and in that moment, she was able to examine him fully.

The
boy – young man, rather – stared at her from beneath dusty blond hair which
hung forward in his face.  His fox-skin coat had a cascade of tails down the
left side and was worn over a vest of armored hide, displaying muscular arms
that were decorated with black markings.  As far as she could tell, he had lost
his left eye to a long scar that trailed down his face, but it did not
completely mar his attractive features.  The eye had rolled upward into his
skull, milky and absent.  The other eye that peered at her so coldly was blue.

He
looks to be around my age.  He aged as well; like Rifter said.

Surprise
took over his face as he looked at her, and his aim faltered.  It was
recognition that she saw in his eyes.  He knew her, and she felt she had been
right about him as well.  He looked so different now that she didn’t think she
would have recognized him, save that this young man before her could only be
Nix.

“Wren?”
he asked finally, as if he didn't believe she was more than a mirage.

“Is
it you, Nix?” she asked carefully.

He
seemed to wince, lowering the gun as he peered at her with complete disbelief. 
He was too shocked to speak, and she knew she must have gotten it right.  She
began to feel joyous in her heart that she had found him – even if it was
him
.

“What
are you doing here?” he asked, still holding the gun in his hand, but it was lowered
now, loose in his grip.

“Rifter
brought me here,” she told him, lowering her hands and clenching them at her
sides.  “He wanted me to find you.  He says that it’s time to fight back.”

Nix
looked concerned; this seemed to trouble him, though the notion was very faint
on his expression.  His blue eye darted in consideration like a pendulum
weighing these facts and consequences.

“That’s
impossible,” he muttered.

“It’s
true,” she insisted.  “He told me himself that he has a plan.”

“No,
it’s
impossible
!” he snarled, turning away from her as if he could think
more clearly without having her in his vision.

She
was silenced by the force of his proclamation, watching his reaction.  She had
known Nix in the past and she kept those thoughts with her as she judged him
now.  He didn’t respond for several moments, and finally Wren had to draw his
attention back.

“Then
how do you explain my presence?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice
level.  She didn’t want to snap at him – not with that gun in his hand.

He
stopped, and Wren could honestly say that she did not know how he would react. 
He had been volatile and moody in former days.  Was he that way still?

“It
must not really be you,” Nix said, his voice growing firmer as he accepted this
new logic.  He turned to lift his gun again.  “You must be a nightmare.  A
trick.  A
mimic
.”

Wren
felt fear stirring inside her chest, believing Nix had never been a far cry
from letting her die, or even killing her himself just to get her out of the
way, and she believed that strongly enough that she was frightened – though not
so much that she didn’t feel angry.  She and Nix had never seen eye to eye, and
the way he had once treated her rose up fresh in her mind.

“I’m
not an illusion,” she said heatedly.  “Rifter brought me back.  He asked me to
find you – all of you.”

“I
told you: that’s impossible,” Nix continued to insist.  “No, you’re not really
here,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re an old memory, and those things don’t
survive for long here.”

He
turned away from her without firing a shot, willing to let her slip out of his
mind, but Wren would not let him retreat.  He put the gun away, and she dared
to be brave, rushing forward to grab his arm.  Nix halted at the firmness of
her grip, staring down at her hands on his arm as if he couldn’t believe she
was solid.

“Please,
hear me out,” she entreated.  “Rifter needs you all back together.  He has a
plan to fix things.  He needs your help.  Please, Nix…”

At
that, his eye snapped to hers and he jerked his arm away.

“You
saw him?” he asked pointedly.

“Yes,
of course I saw him.”

Nix
looked away, considering this.  “He’s not still around, by chance?”

His
voice was strange as he said it, but she could not interpret what his tone
meant.  She watched him peer up toward the branches that were burning against
the darkening sky.  Was he looking for Rifter?

“No,”
she said honestly. “He left me.”

Had
that dissatisfied him?  She observed him as he continued to look around, then
finally he turned back to her, silent.

“He
said he needed all of you back together – that you would listen to me.  He
wants to meet with you at the ruins of the cliff-side Tribal camp.”

Nix
stared at her with many emotions flashing across his countenance, and then
raised his hand.  He reached for her neck and she flinched, but remained still
when she found that he had only wanted to touch her.  His fingertips drifted
toward her cheek, still not believing that she was real, but he suddenly
snatched his hand away as if he’d been burned.

“I
don’t owe him anything,” he said firmly, and that seemed to be the end of it. 
Wren could not let him say no, however.

“Nix…”

“You
listen to me, Wren,” he started, his tone filled with anger, “that boy you
thought you loved back then is gone.  There’s nothing left.  You’re wasting
your time.”

He
turned away again, and this time she thought he would leave her for good.

I
can’t let him go.  I can’t fail!

“No,”
she argued forcefully.  “He just needs help.  I have to help him!  You should
too! You’re his brother!”

“Look
around you!” he spat, whirling.  “Do you really think this can be fixed?”

It
was true that the land was in ruins.  She had seen it – acknowledged it – yet
she could not give up on the idea that it could be reversed.  If Rifter said he
knew a way, she had to believe him.

“Yes,”
she said finally, but her voice sounded doubtful to her own ears.

Nix
eyed her further, silently questioning her resolve.

“Then
you really are foolish,” he declared.  At that, Wren could not keep herself
under control.

“I’m
afraid
!” she cried, her voice veering on the edge of a sob.

He
didn’t respond immediately, staring at her, but she could not see him clearly
for the tears that were forming in her eyes.  She didn’t want him to see her
cry.  He was merciless.

“Everything
is wrong!  Rifter and demons and this darkness!  I just want a family again!  I
don’t have anything left!”

Wren
looked down, feeling uneasy on her feet.  The rush of everything that had
happened had drenched her like the sea.  She could not allow her journey to end
with his stubbornness!  She winced.  Her stomach was churning hotly.

I
need to get a hold on myself.

“Look
at me,” she heard Nix say.  She allowed his voice to draw her back, lifting her
watery eyes to his.  He said nothing, but only observed the way she watched him
until a familiar grimace twisted his mouth and he turned with a disgusted
snort.

“Come
on.  Let’s go.”

“What?” 
She looked after him in surprise.  Though she was pouring herself out to him,
she hadn’t quite expected him to give in.  He had never liked her – had always
thought she was a burden.

“I
can’t just leave you alone out here, can I?” he asked.  “Now come on.  It’s
getting late.”

Wren
could only stare at him.  Even with her pleading, it was more than she
expected.

Bewildered
but determined, she let him guide her through the burning trees.