Chapter Six

After a while, I end up curled on the uncomfortable, semi-scratchy bed, facing the stone wall. Hours go by; I can tell by the way the sun no longer shines through the small window over my head. It's dark outside now, and I'm fucking starving.

What's worse? I had to use the bucket.

"It's so weird everyone here speaks English," I whisper.

The arm with the tattoo rests right in front of my face, and the black color flickers with gold when Rune answers me, breaking his silence, "English? Is this the language you speak? They speak Laconian. Perhaps you can understand them for the same reason I understand you. We are connected." At least he whispers. I still don't know if others would be able to hear him or not. It's not something I'm willing to put to the test.

Whatever. I guess it's as good of an explanation as any, given how weird everything else is.

"I can't stay here," I tell him. I didn't want to use magic in front of all of these people, not with the fact that only their empresses can do magic. The ex-wizard attached to my wrist is evidence enough of what happens when someone tries to stand up to them. Those empresses might not be here, but it sounds like those people on that jury follow them still—except that guy all the way on the right, with the lion symbol on his chest.

"No, you can't," Rune agrees. "But if you break out of here with magic, they'll know."

"At this point, what does it matter? It's obvious they're not going to help me."

"True enough, but we have to be smart about this. Magic is still new to you; you are not practiced. Do you truly think you could go against every single guard in Laconia? Once they mobilize against you, they will stand between you and wherever you want to go."

I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. "You're right." Minutes pass before I ask this next question. "How many empresses are there?" During our journey here, before the whole dragon-slash-shadowstorm thing, we didn't talk much about Laconia or how it all worked. I didn't want to know. I stupidly thought I'd be able to find a way back home and therefore none of it mattered to me.

But seeing as though I might be stuck here for a while, I might as well know a few things.

"There are three. Empress Morimento rules Acadia. It is the southern and eastern regions of Laconia, the largest by far. A land of fair judgment. Then there is Pylos to the north. A hard, mountainous region, unwelcoming to most, the land of mountains and mist. Pylos is rules by Empress Gladus. And, finally, there is Magnysia."

"Where I woke up in the forest," I say.

"Yes. Magnysia is known for its forests. It is ruled by Empress Krotas—or it used to be. It sounded as though these people have not left the walls of the city in years. Perhaps things have changed and the empresses no longer rule."

"Because of the shadowstorms."

"The shadowstorms and the blight. It seems the land of Laconia has fallen upon hard times since I last saw it." He almost sounds wistful, and it makes me wonder just how long he's been inside that crystal.

Oh, sorry, soul gem.

It can't be that long, if he still knows all this about Laconia, but at the same time, I can't imagine what it must've been like, being trapped in there, by himself, for years and years. Long enough for anyone to lose their mind.

I sit up and swing my legs off the side of the bed. "I have to get home," I whisper. "I can't stay here." Whatever problems this place has, no offense, they are their own. They're not mine. Why should I care?

"Forgive me for saying this," Rune pauses, as if he's being careful with his wording—a first, "but from what you've told me about your life, it sounds as if you don't have much to go back to. Are you certain you want to return to your world? Perhaps you'd be better off here."

"Where they think I'm some demon? No, thanks. Besides, my life back home might not be the greatest, but at least it's mine." I think back to the picture of my dad I left, sitting on my bed. God, I hope Frank doesn't throw it out.

I may have made mistakes—quite a few lately—but it's still my life, and I'd be damned if I just walk away from it like nothing happened. This place isn't my home. It will never be my home.

I need Rune off me and I need to find a way back. That's it. Those are my only two goals, and if I have to sacrifice one, it'll be getting Rune off me. My biggest goal is to get the fuck home.

"Well, then I suppose we need to break out of here," Rune mumbles. "We need to be smart about it, however. Not draw any excess attention to ourselves—"

Right as Rune says it, the sounds of the lock on my door start to jiggle, like someone's messing with it. I hop to my feet and spread them wide, a fighting stance, I think, and I get ready to bust whoever's ass is about to come through that door. Rune turns black on my wrist and hand once more, though the moment I whip up some magic, he'll get all sparkly again.

I don't want to hurt anyone. I'm not that kind of person. But they locked me up and basically said they didn't know what to do with me. It's way past the time for fight or flight; there's only one thing left to do.

Raise hell.

The longer the sounds last, the more I realize it doesn't sound like someone inserting a key. If a key is being used, the door would already be open. No. This sounds like someone's picking the lock.

Something unlatches, and then the door swings open to reveal who's on the other side.

I stare, slack-jawed, at one of the kids I saw running around the marketplace earlier. Her dirty face stares up at me from beneath her hood, and she reaches under her cloak and throws a bundle of cloth at me. I barely catch it, too stunned that this girl, who can't be older than ten or eleven, is breaking me out.

"Who—" I start, but the girl lifts a finger to her dirty lips to silence me. I glance at the bundle she tossed me and see it's some kind of hooded cape that mimics the one she's wearing.

Ah, well. What do I have to lose? I wanted out of this cell anyway. Might as well take all the help I can get.

I put the cape on, lift the hood over my head, and tie the string tight around my neck so it doesn't fall off. I walk toward the girl and whisper, "Lead the way." However she got in here is how we'd need to get out.

She turns and leads me away from the cell—though I do stop to close my cell door so it looks like I'm still in there before I follow her. As long as we aren't seen, it'd buy us a bit more time.

The girl is silent as she leads me along. Down the hall we go. It seems like we're taking the normal way out, which means we're going to come across guards very soon. I hope this girl knows what she's doing, but if not, I ready myself to kick some ass.

Right when I feel the need to summon up some golden magic, we pass a pair of guards sitting at a table, totally unconscious. Their figures are slouched, their bare heads bent down to the table. Helmets off, sitting to the side, it looks like they were eating something before they passed out.

Did this girl give them spiked food? Shit. That's hardcore. Mad respect for this girl, whoever she is. If all the guards are passed out like this, she and I can walk right out of here like we own the place.

Of course, it doesn't occur to me that she has to be doing this for a reason, which means she must want something from me. One thing at a time.

The girl knows exactly where to go, even though all of the hallways blend together and look the same. When we emerge into the night, finally free of the place, she pulls me to a set of barrels just before a city guard walks by, totally unaware there's a jailbreak going on. The guard stops about fifteen feet away from the barrels to yawn, and then he resumes his scheduled route through the city.

That's our cue to go.

The girl is knowledgeable about the side-streets and the routes the guards take. We're able to masterfully dodge them without too many close encounters. By the time we head down the steps that separate the higher, richer district from the markets, we're pretty much in the clear. We don't see any guards patrolling the markets, and I doubt there's any where the regular people live.

The wall and the rich assholes' homes; that's all they care about keeping safe. Let's be real. Things like that don't change world to world, I guess.

"What's your name?" I ask as we walk through the shadowy marketplace.

"Prim," the girl says, glancing at me from under her hood.

"Thanks for getting me out of there, Prim. I'm Rey."

"Frederick says you can walk through shadowstorms. Can you?" I wouldn't say Prim sounds hopeful, but that's as close to it as a word could be.

I have no idea who this Frederick is or how he knows—as far as I'm aware, the only people that know are the people that saw the whole spectacle in the upper district. I didn't see any regular-looking people there, so I don't know how this Frederick could know that.

"Uh, yeah. I can."

"Frederick says you can help us." Okay, nope. The girl definitely sounds hopeful.

"I don't know about that. I'm not from here, Prim, and I really just want to go home—"

We're now in the lower district, where the streets are full of houses jam-packed together and the air smells a little dirtier. Prim halts, nearly causing me to bump into her, and she whirls around on me so fast her hood falls… and she turns those big, wide eyes up at me.

"You have to help us. If you can walk through the shadowstorms then you can make it to one of the castles. You can find the empresses and ask them why they left us."

These empresses are starting to sound more and more like a religion to these people, a freaking cult, and if there's one thing I know from watching the world around me back home, it's that cultists who are willing to believe anything their leaders say are bad. No drinking the Kool-Aid for me, thanks.

"I don't know about that, kid," I say.

To say she appears crestfallen after that would be an understatement. Her whole expression falls, and she looks up at me so sadly, like I just kicked her puppy into the mud and told her how worthless she is. My heart hurts, but I want nothing to do with these empresses.

Prim sounds beyond sad when she mutters, "Come on. We're almost there." She turns without saying another word, leading on once more, hopes dashed.

I don't carry after her right away. I stand there, wishing I could help her but knowing I can't. Rune lights up on my wrist and says, "It sounded like she wanted you to be a hero."

Prim is about thirty feet ahead already, which is the only reason I whisper back, "I'm not a hero. I'm just me." Just a regular girl that stumbled into a weird alternate fantasy reality, a girl who now has a wizard stuck to her wrist and his magic flowing through her.

Okay, so maybe not so normal right now.

I hurry after Prim. There is apparently a pond down here, where the houses turn to wood instead of stone, like they were added on after the fact, built because this city is housing more people than it was ever meant to. Prim leads me up a set of wooden stairs, and she's the first inside the house.

I take my time in walking up those steps, and as I do, I turn my head to the moon in the starry sky. It's funny; the moon looks the same, craters and all, if a bit closer to the world. It's beautiful, really.

Inside the shoddily-built wooden house, I hear a man's voice say, "Thank you, Prim. Tomorrow we'll go to the markets and you can pick out whatever you want."

"Whatever I want?" The girl gasps, and as I walk inside the home, I'm greeted by the sight of Prim squealing and hugging the man who must be Frederick.

Candles are lit and burning, illuminating the inside of the front room with a dull yellow glow. A table sits between me and where Prim and the man stand. I don't know what I expected, but with the name, I kind of assumed he'd be old.

He's not.

If this man is Frederick, he's only five or six years older than me—the only person I've seen so far in this stupid city near my age. He wears a gentle smile as he hugs the girl, his jaw laced with short stubble. Brown hair, from what I can see, cut short enough to stay out of his eyes. He wears a long-sleeved shirt that's tucked into the waistband of his pants. The shirt is ridiculously loose. The pants are not.

Speaking as an objective person, he's kind of cute, in a bookish sort of way.

Prim pulls away from Frederick, and then she looks at me, a wistfulness crossing her face for just a few seconds before she races around the room and leaves. As the wooden door closes, I'm now alone with the man who, apparently, is buying Prim whatever she wants at the markets tomorrow for helping get me out of jail.

Good for her. Using her skills to get shit she wants. I need to be more like her.

Frederick is slow to walk around the table, and his eyes drop as he studies me. He's eight or so inches taller than me, probably just under six feet tall. "You, Rey, must be wondering why you're here," he says, finally meeting my stare once again.

"You mean why a little girl just broke me out of jail? Yeah, I'm a little curious."

"My name is Frederick," he tells me. "Frederick LaRoe. I was in the conclave when you tried to plead your case."

He must mean the auditorium-like area with the four judges, juries, and executioners who kept calling me a demon. Funny, I don't remember seeing him there, although I couldn't exactly turn around and study each and every person in the audience.

"They dismissed you, and knowing how they work, they're still bickering amongst themselves over what to do with you," he says, shaking his head once. "Wasting time. It is true that you walked through a shadowstorm?"

"Yes," I say.

"Ever since the scourge's first appearance in Laconia years ago, there has never been a survivor. Anything the storms touch, it either kills or twists into abominable creatures. The only beings immune are ones with the blight." Frederick circles me, and he stares at me so hard I can feel his eyes on me. "But you are perfectly human, no blight to be seen. I wanted to get a better look at you to be sure."

Once he stands before me again, I ask him, "Well? How's that better look doing for you?"

"I believe you are blight-free, which poses the question: how? How were you able to walk through a shadowstorm and survive?"He brings a hand to his chin, tapping it gently.

"I don't know," I say. And right then, my stomach growls. It growls and it hurts so much I nearly double over. It's been so long since I ate. My stomach feels like it's caving in on itself. "You don't have any food I can have, do you?"

His scrutinizing gaze is replaced by an awkward sort of clumsiness as he quickly says, "Of course. I'm so sorry. I should've asked if there was anything you wanted. Let me see what I have." He pulls out a chair from the nearby table. "Sit."

I sit at the table and watch as Frederick paces back and forth. He disappears into a back room and emerges with a cup of water for me—which I take and gulp down before realizing I should maybe take my time. Within another few minutes, I have a refill of water along with a stone plate with a slab of dried meat, an apple, and some kind of greens on it.

Not going to lie, that meat smells good.

I go for the meat first and take a bite. It's rough like jerky, but damn, is it smoked to perfection. "Holy shit," I mutter with my mouth full, "this is great. What is this?"

"Lamb," Frederick answers as he takes the seat opposite mine.

I nearly choke on my mouthful. Never had lamb before, but I guess there's a first time for everything. Lamb or not, I don't care. I'm going to eat it anyway and enjoy every single bite.

Frederick watches me eat like I'm a lab rat and he's testing me. Again, I'm too hungry to care. "You said you aren't from around here. The last time Laconia welcomed people from another land, we went to war with them, so you must forgive the conclave's distrust."

I bite into the apple, mostly to stop myself from wolfing down the lamb jerky so fast. "I don't know who you're talking about, but I'm not from there, either. The place I'm from… is different. There's no magic or dragons. We have electricity and indoor plumbing—"

That gets him interested. He leans over the table, an intense look on his face. "You're saying you're not from across the sea?"

"Uh, nope. I'm from America, the United States of. Land of the so-called free and all that shit, where they think it's okay to saddle eighteen-year-olds with a whole bunch of debt they'll never be able to repay…"

Frederick watches me with a mystified expression, as if each and every word I say he doesn't understand but wants to.

"Sorry. Let's just say it's complicated back home. I'm not from here and I don't want to stay here. I just want to find a way back," I tell him. "And I have no clue where to start."

Frederick says, "My father was a researcher. He wanted to understand the woes and where they came from. Before that, he was interested in other things nature can't explain, like the empresses' powers. He did some work on portals. I've never heard of a portal bringing in someone from another world, but I have heard of them opening up quick doors between regions."

A portal? Duh. So all I need to get home is a portal. A really strong portal.

"Who can open portals?" Please don't say the empresses.

"The empresses—" Damn it. "—have many powers of their own, but portal-weaving is different. It requires, from my understanding, taking the threads of time and reality itself and bending them to your will. I've never seen one, but I have read all of my father's remaining research on the subject. I know more about them than anyone else in Laconia."

"Except your dad. Where is he?"

Frederick frowns. "He's dead. He left the walls of the city years ago to travel to Acadia on behalf of Empress Krotas. He took a lot of his research with him. I was too young to accompany him. I had to stay here with my mother."

Shit. So the only guy that might've known how I can get out of here is dead? Great. Just my luck.

I don't say that, though. I instead ask about his mom. "Is your mom gone, too?"

Frederick nods once. "A shadowstorm got her. Used to be the land around the city was safe, but eventually the storms pushed their way up, and the farmlands outside the city became unusable. Before the conclave forbade it, guards used to accompany farmers to their fields and stand watch while they harvested and planted new seeds. A shadowstorm came. She got everyone else to safety, but she wasn't fast enough."

"Shit," I whisper. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right. That happened about ten years ago now. At least I was old enough to take care of myself. I might not have my mother's fighting strength, but I like to think I have my father's mind. I might be able to help you, Rey."

My heart skips a beat. I shouldn't get excited. He might not be able to help. Still, it would be amazing if this guy could help me get back home.

"But I was hoping to ask a favor of you," he goes on, and my excitement dies.

Of course he wants something. He had me broken out of jail and is now feeding me. It should've been obvious from the start this is a quid pro quo situation. No quo without a quid, or however that works.

"When my father left for Acadia, he took a lot of his research with him. Research on the woes and on shadowstorms. I want it back, as much of it as possible. Maybe there's a way to counteract the storms or the blight, and if not… the more we understand of it, the better suited we are to prepare against it."

I blink at Frederick. "You want me to go out there and find your dad's research?" It sounds silly. It sounds stupid. It also sounds impossible. How the hell did Frederick expect me to find anything when it could be anywhere?

"I know it sounds like an impossible task, but my father left my mother a map with the exact trail he was taking to Acadia's castle. I memorized it a long time ago. I can give you the map. You can follow it, see if you can find any trace of him. I don't know if he ever made it to Acadia's castle."

The look on my face must say enough, because Frederick stands. He walks around the table and kneels beside me. I try not to look at him, but the earnestness in his voice causes me to do exactly that, "I know I ask much of you, Rey. I know you are a stranger to me and to this land, but you can walk through the storms. You're safer out there than anyone else in here could be. I'd go myself if I could."

Frederick chuckles softly. "I tried, a few times, but each time the guards stopped me. The furthest I ever made it out of the city was thirty paces beyond the walls. You aren't the only one that has been dragged into the city and thrown into a cell. I spent my fair share of time in those tiny cells until I learned that I simply cannot go."

The smile he gives me right then is hopeful, sweet, the kind of smile that's meant to make me give in. "But you can. You can go. You can go where I cannot. Please, Rey—" He actually reaches for my hand and holds it against his upper chest. I'm so caught off-guard by the action that I sit there, stunned, and let him hold my hand. "—you are my last hope."

I don't know how long I sit there with my hand inside his, and I don't know how long he kneels there, wordlessly pleading with me, but it has to be a while.

Fuck. Right now, this guy is my only lead. If he'll only help me once I look for his dad's things, then… shit, I guess I have to. Clinging to the small sliver of a chance that I might stumble upon someone else in this hellish kingdom that can help me is probably the stupidest thing I can do.

"Fine," I mutter with a sigh. "As long as you promise to keep up your end of the deal and help me get back home even if I don't find anything. Can I have my hand back now?"

It's as if a switch is flipped inside Frederick, like he forgot he was holding my hand, and he immediately releases it and gets to his feet. "Oh, yes. I'm sorry, I—" He runs a hand through his hair, the awkwardness thick enough to choke us both, and he returns to his chair across from me. "I'm aware of how daunting this task is. I know you might not find anything, but… we can't last forever in this city. We have some areas inside the walls set aside for farming and livestock, but it's not enough long-term. Things will get bad, and we'll slowly starve. It's why we need to figure out how to reverse this, somehow, how to fix these woes."

I hear the urgency in his voice, and he's so desperate for a fix, I can't blame him. I don't know if I'll be able to help him, but… I guess, since I can walk through the storms with only a dry mouth as a result, the least I can do is look for his dad's research.

"You keep calling them woes," I say, resuming my meal. I take another bite of the lamb jerky. "Why? What are they?"

"They brought nothing but woe to everyone in Laconia, so the name was fitting. I don't know who first started calling them that, but it was long after they began. Around twenty years ago, a blight spread across the kingdom. Accounts vary. Some say it originated in Acadia, but others say it appeared simultaneously in Magnysia and Pylos as well. The blight affected crop yields. If you ate infected crop, you got terribly sick. Many people died."

Oh. Shit. This has been going on for twenty years now? I guess it's true. You go out with a whisper and not a bang.

"The next woe that spread upon Laconia was a plague among livestock. Farm animals started to get sick and die. Some turned wild and attacked their owners. It spread to wild animals soon after. If one of your herd got sick with it and you didn't catch it in time, your whole herd would get it soon after. It's a miracle we have the animals we have left, honestly."

"I saw a dog out there," I tell him, shivering when I remember that blasted dog. All the bones poking out of its gut. The crazed look in its eye. "It was fucked up. It didn't really look like a dog anymore."

"Those animals that the plague didn't touch, the animals that were locked out there… the conclave calls them blighted. Something's wrong with them and we don't know if it's something we can fix. We assume their erratic behavior is made worse due to being caught in the third woe, the scourge."

"The scourge?"

"Shadowstorms. A thick, gray mist that devours and changes anything it touches. Human or animal, nothing can withstand its tainting nature… until you, that is. The scourge is what forced most to finally abandon their homes and try to flee. Many did not make it here."

I take a slow sip of my water. "I'm sorry."

"I was a child when my family fled Magnysia. I don't remember much of anything. My father was close to Empress Krotas, but I only know that because of the stories my mother would tell. It was chaos. I don't know how we got out."

"So where the hell are your empresses, then? If they're so powerful and revered like gods, why haven't they lifted a finger to try to help you?"

Frederick leans back, his hands in his lap. Shadows touch his face. "They… have not been seen outside their lands in over ten years, and when they were… they were not themselves. Not everyone got to meet them, let alone one of them, but my mother always said they were supposed to be the best of us. The kindest. The gentlest. The most powerful. They were supposed to protect us from everything and anything. Some people here still cling to those ideals—you saw that in the conclave—but it's clear the woes that affected us also affected them."

In other words, if by some miracle the empresses are still alive out there, they're bat-fucking-shit.

I finish off my plate. Even eat the greens, though I'm not much of a salad person. All the while, Frederick watches me.

"You can sleep here tonight. Early morning, I'll have Prim take you to the wall, where you can get out. I'll pack you a bag of food to take with you, along with the map. Most animals you see out there are going to be too tainted to eat, so I suggest sticking to anything in the water. Fish, clams, and such seem to be immune, for whatever reason. The water has kept them safe."

Ooh, yummy. Fish, second only to clams. All seafood, really, is a favorite of mine. So yummy.

Sarcasm. That is all sarcasm. I guess it depends how hungry I get out there. I think I'll have to be starving before I tell myself to go look for some clams to eat.

Frederick rubs the back of his neck. "I… only have one bed. Mine. But you can use it for the night. Outside the walls, you won't have much comfort." In other words, I'll be sleeping on the ground a lot.

He stands and gestures for me to follow him, so I get up and trail after him. He brings me to a door in the far end of the room, and once he pushes it open I see it's his bedroom. A tiny bed along with a desk of sorts, and a small dresser.

"Goodnight," Frederick says with a soft smile, and then he ducks his head out of the room, shutting the door behind him. I hear him move around the house, probably cleaning up my plate and cup, along with getting everything ready for me.

I sigh as I walk toward the tiny window in the room, on the wall near the desk. It's big enough I could jump out of it, if I wanted to, no metal bars to stop me and no glass to be seen. I think about it. Of course, I do. I want to get out of here like nobody's business.

At the same time, Frederick might be the only person who can help me get home. If he understands how portals work, maybe he can figure out a way to open one without the need for magic, like with a potion or something.

Or maybe that's just wishful thinking on my part and I'm totally screwed. Either way, I have to find his dad's stuff before I'll find out.

I lean against the windowsill and stare at the clear night sky. The night is silent, the wind nonexistent. There must be less pollution, even with the woes, because the night sky is made of a multitude of stars you just don't see back home. I swear, when I look hard enough, I can even see slight swirls of colors, like I'm staring at a galaxy or something.

It's stunning. It really is. I imagine everything here used to be way more beautiful before the woes hit. It really is a shame.

As I look at the sky, I think of my dad. I wonder if he'd be proud of me, what he'd do in this crazy situation. There are so many things I wish I could ask him, so many answers I want.

But you can't talk to the dead. That's, like, rule number one.

I push away from the window and move to the bed. I kick off my shoes and crawl on. With a full belly, I'm suddenly so exhausted. It's like the weight of it all hits me right then, all at once. I'm stuck in a new world where magic exists and its rulers are MIA while dangerous woes ravage the land and its people.

It's only after I lay down and curl on my side that Rune lights up on my wrist. "At least the man seems genuine."

"Yeah," I whisper.

"Perhaps his father's research will contain the answers we need."

"Maybe." It almost feels like too much to hope for, though, like the doubt in my mind won't go away. It keeps nagging me over and over again, telling me nothing is ever going to be okay again.

Rune's voice carries no trace of his typical annoyance or haughtiness. He actually sounds empathetic when he tells me, "Everything is going to be okay, Rey."

My eyelids fall, my breathing slows. My last conscious thought is that I hope Rune is right.