THE SMARAGDINE FOREST

  Invisible Chains

  Step, breath. Step, breath. Step, breath…

  Shapes shifted in the shadows, faint, following from afar. Hissing hungrily. Hurrying behind. Hiding.

  Skye wandered the endless tunnels of the Deeps with nothing but a waning photrine. He climbed with hands too frail to move. Walked on swollen feet he’d long lost sense of.

  The elexos stalked behind. He saw its red, gleaming eyes whenever he glanced over his shoulders. Heard its manic laughter, the rustle of its steps, its psychotic screams. Its echoes rang in his ears, mingling with the endless chimes of the bell. The bell that refused to release him. That chained him to a life of loneliness and pain. That cursed his existence.

  That tortured him.

  You haven’t left the dungeon, the elexos said, peering from behind a stalagmite, its hollow eyes burning, its voice a crackle of fire and rock. You’ve imagined this before.

  If this were a dream, then he should have reached the surface by now. Unless he was no longer worthy of seeing the sky. He’d never deserved it, sneaking up there like he did. Others worked hard for it, earned their place. He stole his moments under the sun like a thief.

  Someone as despicable as his character, someone as disgusting, as useless, as weak, had no right to demand anything of this world.

  Yes, a satisfied voice said from behind. You finally know what you are.

  Perhaps he was dead, and afterlife only looked like what he’d experienced and known. After all, he couldn’t tell if there was anything to this existence but darkness and stone. But there should be someone here, guiding him along, or so the stories spoke. Yet he was abandoned to the horrid nothingness that filled this place, forgotten to roam for eternity, fleeting like smoke. Fading away with every step as his muscles ached, and bones.

  He fell, vomited the food he’d stolen from the wardens, then marched through the void.

  He arrived at a pile of feces, skulls, and gore that he hadn’t passed while traveling before. He’d been warned to avoid such shrines. Told never to wander near their mines. For these monuments belonged to cannibal tribes. And these screams must be their battle cries. And these rushing footsteps must be them charging for their hunt and prize, dragging with them hell. Swiftly, he ran away, frantically ringing his bell.

  Oh, those poor maneaters, the voice teased, how would they eat you with that disgusting smell?

  A while later, he opened his eyes to the dark, not remembering when he’d decided to rest. The photrine shone naught but a mere spark, his body covered with crawling pests. He clutched his head, his flesh hard, the voices wouldn't quiet or hush. It felt as if a centipede had crawled inside, biting, and chewing, and nipping, and stinging, and turning his brain to mush.

  He marched toward his home, although he didn’t know where that would be. It was a place he’d feel safe, he guessed. It was a place unaware of fear or hate. Blessed. A place he could be free.

  You don’t have a home, you idiot, the voice reminded. Search as you might, you’ll see.

  His body barely functioned anymore, his eyes recognized no shape or sight. He dragged himself until he felt heat on his face: sharp, white light. He didn’t know whether he’d made it to the city, or if he was still roaming the Deeps. Either way, that was as far as his feet would carry him. And so, he gave in to sleep.

  He collapsed on the hard rock, face down, all spent, hoping that a stranger would find him. Or a friend.

  They’re all dead.

  **********

  “Coals of the Void! What happened to him?!”

  “Hey kid! You alive?”

  “Quick, carry his legs.”

  **********

  Creak…

  “Put him over there.”

  “Where did you find him?”

  **********

  “AAARRGGHH!”

  “Don’t push too hard, you’re hurting him.”

  “He’s fighting me! I’m trying to keep him down!”

  **********

  “Will he live?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll wait and see.”

  **********

  “Hey, lazy. I brought flowers. Mmhm, they smell nice! Would you like some gemshine?”

  **********

  “Make sure the water’s not too hot.”

  “I know.”

  “Don’t get water in his mouth or nose.”

  “I know!”

  **********

  “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s taking to the medicine surprisingly fast. His body will eventually heal, but I can’t imagine what he’s been through.”

  “I just wish he’d wake up.”

  **********

  “Um, should we be bothering him?”

  “I’m not bothering him, I’m checking up on him.”

  “Ahhhh…”

  “You are bothering him!”

  “Wait… Is he waking? He’s waking!”

  “W-what should we do?!”

  “Go get the wardens, I’ll get Dad.”

  **********

  “He was awake just a moment ago, I swear!”

  “Admit it. You made that up because you wanted to see us.”

  “You guys come all the time, uninvited.”

  “Look who’s talking!”

  “Ahhh…”

  “See? He’s waking.”

  “Kids, wait outside.”

  “No way! I’ve been waiting for him to wake for days, I’m not leaving!”

  **********

  Something wet and soft patted Skye’s forehead. His body felt weak; it took effort just to open his eyes. As his pupils adjusted to the unmerciful light, he noticed that his mind had warped the cave to add drapes and furniture. Dee, Jay, and Bob stood around him, pretending to be his loved ones again.

  Skye laughed. He tried to speak, but his tongue felt thick, his throat dry. “Sorry, guys,” he rasped. “I had the wildest dream. I imagined I escaped again. Do you believe it?”

  Jay-Stenser leaned close. He pried open Skye’s eyelids, shone a light into his eyes, then examined his ears and mouth. He played the doctor well. Had the robe, glasses, and the mannerisms correct. Even his expression was spot on: serious, slightly worried, yet somehow kind.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Wow, you’re getting good!” Skye said.

  “How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?” Jay-Stenser asked. “How many fingers am I holding?”

  Skye stared at the hand. “Hahaha, you have flesh!” He frowned. “How did you do that?!”

  “Is he hallucinating?” Dee-Lyonel asked. “He doesn’t seem well.”

  “Maybe he needs more rest?” Bob-Rierana said.

  Skye sat up slowly. “Wow, you guys look great!” he noted, watching their hair glint under the light. “You’re incredible!” he told Bob-Rierana. Then, to Dee-Lyonel, “When did you put yourself back together?”

  Dee flinched back.

  “You even have a book!” Skye laughed.

  Bob-Rierana blinked, tilting his head. Skye couldn’t stop grinning. These copies were perfect.

  He turned toward the door atop the stairs; it too had been altered, becoming a window. Bright, dazzling light streamed through, as if Erillea itself had pierced the Deeps.

  A strange hope welled in his chest. He reached out a trembling hand and touched it. It was warm.

  A shadow darted past.

  He gasped. Someone was on the other side. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. His cries would finally be heard.

  “Heeeeeeeeeellllllppp!” he shouted, heart pounding. “I’m over heeeere!”

  The skeletons shifted uncomfortably, staring in silence.

  “Why aren’t you yelling?” he asked, feeling ants crawl all over his feet. He shivered, wishing he could reach and scratch them. “Help me! They’re right there!”

  Jay-Stenser shifted. “Kids. Outside,” he said firmly.

  Crestfallen, Bob-Rierana and Dee-Lyonel turned away.

  “No, don’t leave now. We’re about to be saved,” Skye called, making them pause. He yanked his arms toward them, struggling against his chains.

  They… didn’t rattle.

  Strange.

  His cuffs had turned invisible.

  “Listen, son. You’re already safe,” Jay-Stenser said, face impassive. “My name is Doctor Stenser. You’re in my clinic in the Photrine District. No one will harm you here.”

  He waved his arms. They felt light; he must have loosened the pegs a notch. “Look! I can move my hands!” He laughed. Then he remembered the wardens outside and resumed shouting. “I’m down here! Heeeelllp!”

  The light remained undisturbed.

  Jay-Stenser gestured to the others, but Skye paid them no heed. This was his chance to leave this accursed cave. To not become another dead rat. He’d prepared words for the wardens’ arrival, practiced his act for hours.

  He glanced down. Those pesky insects had covered his lower body with a soft, white cocoon. Must be the work of nasty spiders.

  Refusing to become prey, he summoned his strength to kick the wrappings away, then attempted to stand. Jay-Stenser rushed to support him, while Bob-Rierana hurried to the other side, arms ready to catch him.

  Foolish Bob. The chains would never release Skye.

  “Get down, son,” Jay-Stenser said gently. “You need more rest.”

  Skye ignored him. The floor beneath felt soft, but that was probably because of his swollen feet. “Heeelllooo!” he called again, waving. He didn’t understand why the chains didn’t jingle anymore.

  “Who did this to him?” Bob-Rierana asked in a shaky voice.

  “A bunch of sadistic coalsons,” someone snarled from across the dungeon.

  Skye startled. The wardens were already here. Two of them stood across from him, cloaked and armed. A winged fist insignia adorned their chests.

  One last time, he revised his speech. It had to be convincing.

  He rasped his voice and coaxed out a tear. “W-would you please help me?” he pleaded. The waterworks flowed. Tears, snot, saliva, the whole deal. Easy now, after so much practice. “I don’t know where I am. I’ve been stuck here for days. I don’t know why. I’m hurting. M-my arms… look at my arms.”

  He held up his chained hands, trembling. The wardens stared dumbly at him, wide-eyed.

  “I’ve pulled so hard they’re about to fall off. I’m really sorry for bothering you. I’m sorry for everything.”

  He hated himself for his weakness, loathed having to cry in front of the murderers that locked him up in this hell. He should be punishing them, bringing them to justice, avenging his team. Unfortunately, the only weapon he had was pity.

  If he could make them unlock his handcuffs, even for a single second, he’d cast the curse and escape. Then, no one would remember his shame.

  Summoning his bell, he tugged lightly at its invisible tether, then shifted his weight, preparing to bolt.

  Both wardens seethed with rage, faces red. The fat one squeezed his fists as though he were choking a cat. The second was blond and had a split-chin. He stomped toward Skye, shaking with fury.

  Skye stumbled back, hitting the wall, heart hammering. They’d seen through him. Knew his plan.

  His legs buckled, and despite Jay-Stenser and Bob-Rierana’s support, he sank. This terrified him as he realized he didn’t have the energy to stand, much less run.

  “What’s your name?” Split-chin demanded. His astrum—a long wooden staff branching at the tip, adorned with white aerobers—shuddered in his grip. He was a windrider.

  Skye knew he shouldn’t stare at the weapon. But he couldn’t avoid it. The skeletons noticed, but thankfully kept it to themselves.

  “Skye,” he answered, teeth chattering. He didn’t mind handing his real name; they’d forget him soon, anyway.

  “I’m Warden Ficar Sheoslen,” the blond one growled. “I swore to protect the people of Troqua from monsters. All kinds of monsters.” He spat each word like a blade. “I apologize for not reaching you sooner, Skye. But I swear, by everything holy, that we will find the coalsons who hurt you, and make them regret ever touching you.”

  Skye recoiled at the explosive delivery. This was a ploy he hadn’t expected. The wardens must have noticed him a while ago and schemed to make him drop his guard and reveal his secrets.

  Their cunningness shouldn’t surprise him. They’d tricked the whole city into believing they were heroes.

  He kept to the plan; they knew nothing about him. “I’m in so much pain,” he whimpered, hugging himself despite his aches. “Please… just for a second, release my hands. I’ll do anything, tell you everything you want, I swear.”

  The fat warden rubbed his eyes. The other gritted his teeth, slamming the butt of his astrum into the ground repeatedly. They were getting frustrated. He needed to be careful not to push them too much, or they’d snap and end him.

  “It’s alright,” Bob-Rierana said softly, reaching for his outstretched hands. “You’re safe. No one will hurt you here.” His eyes too were red with tears. An impressive performance, though Skye wished he’d chosen a better time to show off his skills.

  “Take it slow, son. Lay down,” Jay-Stenser said, placing a hand on Skye’s shoulder and pressing gently.

  Skye resisted furtively. He didn’t need rest; he needed to be ready to run. These damned skeletons were ruining his plan. The wardens couldn’t see them. Only he was crazy enough to get distracted by their antics.

  He clenched his jaw, resisting with all his strength, then pushing back. “Let go, you idiot!” he snapped, then turned to the wardens, smiling wide—no, crying! He had to shed tears. Focus, Skye, focus! Or these coalbrains will get you killed.

  “Do you need help?” split-chin asked.

  “Yes, please!” Skye cried, hiding his joy. They’d agreed to help. He’d almost succeeded!

  “It’s better if you gentlemen stay back for now,” Jay-Stenser replied. He tilted Skye’s chin gently, looking into his eyes. “Listen, son. You’ve been through a lot, but it’s over. You’ve already escaped.”

  Bob-Rierana moved closer, hands clasping Skye’s. “Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, his voice too raspy. “I have some soup I’m sure you’ll love.”

  Skye shot a desperate glance toward Dee-Lyonel. If anyone could rein them in, it was him. But Dee just stood there, lips curled, chin twitching like some useless extra in their play.

  “Do something,” Skye whispered at Dee. “Help me!” He tried to stand again, but Bob-Rierana pulled him in a firm embrace.

  “It’s alright now, Skye,” Bob-Rierana said. “It’s over.”

  Skye struggled in the skeleton’s grip, too weak to break free. “Let go… please.”

  This couldn’t be happening. He wanted to scream. Just when someone had finally come, his mind and body failed him. The wardens watched, shaking their heads in disgust.

  Redeyes was right. He always failed when it mattered the most.

  His pleas turned to murmurs. Strength drained from his limbs. He sagged into Bob-Rierana’s arms, defeated, ready for death’s cold grip. Instead, he found warmth.

  The skeleton form was soft. Even his imaginary hair smelled of spices, like the real Rierana.

  “You’re with me now,” Bob-Rierana said, nestling Skye’s head against his shoulder.

  Skye stopped pushing away. It felt as if his heart was being squeezed. Pinprick pain spread across his chest, down to his fingers and toes. Trembling, he wrapped his arms around her.

  He’d never hugged the real Rierana, but he’d always imagined it’d feel like this, like a nice day under the sun compressed into a single moment.

  “Are you real?” he whispered.

  “I am,” Rierana said softly, stroking his hair.

  His breath caught. He dug his fingers into her back, still unsure whether this was reality or a dream.

  Rierana—the real Rierana!—had come to save him. But she shouldn’t be able to remember him or know where he was being imprisoned.

  That didn’t matter; he could question her later. They had to leave this cave. He’d already lost his team; he couldn’t risk losing Rierana too.

  He wouldn’t survive that.

  He started formulating a new plan. Ringing his bell and running away was no longer an option. He needed a method to bring her along.

  “We need to go,” he whispered, glancing at the black-cloaked channelers. “They’ll hurt you if they catch you. They’ll trap you in this dungeon. When I tell you to run, you have to run, got it?”

  His voice shook as he pictured them grabbing her, chaining her to the wall, letting her rot. He’d have to fight them. Pick up a rock, and ring his bell to confuse them. But he had to be fast lest they get him first. He clenched his muscles, testing their strength. There wasn’t much.

  Rierana pulled back to meet his eyes. It was the real her; no one in the world radiated such kindness.

  “No one is trapped here,” she said, shaking her head, a faint smile quirking her lips.

  “I’m chained to this wall,” he reminded her. “Look at me.”

  She tilted her head, holding back tears. “Come,” she said.

  Tenderly, she pulled him toward her. Skye didn’t remember there being such a big step beside him. Either way, his chains wouldn’t allow—

  He stepped away from the wall.

  Frowning, he searched for the pegs, then the missing chains on his wrists.

  “How?” he asked.

  “You’re free,” she replied.

  “I’m… free?”

  “Yes.” Rierana laughed and resumed her ugly crying. “You’re in the city.”

  He stared at her, then at Lyonel and the doctor.

  “We’re not here to hurt you,” the fat warden said. “We found you unconscious in the Deeps and carried you to Dr. Stenser’s clinic for treatment. We’re here to check on you.”

  His name was… Mirio? And the windrider must be Ficar. Skye needed a moment to remember he’d seen them at the Neashure’s estate; they were Dray’s friends.

  Wardens saved me? The concept boggled his mind. There was no such thing as good wardens.

  “Why would wardens help people?” he asked.

  Ficar cleared his throat. “I now know the ones who did this to you claimed to be wardens,” he said, touching the fist-shaped pin on his cloak. “But they were lying.”

  He removed the pin and held it out, letting his cloak drop to the floor.

  “When we receive this mark, we swear to protect those in need. Today, I renew that oath before you.”

  Behind, Mirio released his cloak and held out his insignia as well. Skye sniffled, his entire body shaking.

  In unison, the two wardens spoke, “I swear on my honor that I’ll spend my life defending my home and my people from all harm. I shall fear no monster or man. I shall not waver or yield until the last drop of my blood is spilled, and the last scintilla of my spirit is spent. For from this day forward, I am a warden of Troqua.”

  They lowered their hands.

  “I promise you, the ones who did this to you will be punished,” Ficar finished.

  Finding no reason to fight anymore, Skye’s legs gave out. Rierana caught him. Lyonel dropped his book and rushed to help steady him. Skye clung to them both.

  “I’m free…” he breathed, looking around the place.

  And for the first time, he realized he was back in his room at Doctor Stenser’s house with his old bed, his old closet, table, and nightstand all present. From the window, millions of gems shone, birds darting in every direction.

  “I’m free,” he repeated, hearing the majestic sounds of life drift from the city outside.

  “I’m free!” he shouted, clinging harder onto his friends, feeling their warmth, erasing all doubt.

  “I’M FREE! I’M FREE! I’M FREE!”

  ?????Days until Green Eve: 24?????