9. Yera

Chapter nine

Yera

T onight, making camp comes much more naturally. Arrick doesn't fuss when I go off in search of firewood. He smiles and waves me off. Tonight is my second night in this strange place, and I wonder when the breakdown will come.

I usually can sense my anxiety when it thrums just under the surface of my skin. I've gone through bouts of panic disorder, and this seems like an event that would trigger it, but I'm feeling nothing.

Perhaps I'm still in shock. Perhaps it's something that will land on me out of nowhere. Like an ancient tree breaking in the woods, it will come to crush me under its weight at the least opportune moment.

Well, now you're getting panicked, thinking about getting panicked, you dumb bitch. I suck a deep breath into my lungs, clearing my mind from the intrusive thoughts. Stop calling yourself a dumb bitch .

The forest is alive with small sounds as I search for firewood. I wonder what other mythical creatures I'll run into—fairies, leprechauns, maybe a hydra. The ideas are endless, and the questions bubble up in my thoughts again.

I wonder if all mythical creatures from all cultures exist here. Could I see a mermaid and Jinn on the same day, in the same place? I make a mental note to ask Arrick when his voice has rested. I move on from that train of thought.

Within minutes, my arms are piled high with kindling, and I drop it with a crack in front of the fire pit.

For the next half hour, I bring load after load of firewood. For ease of use, I sort the large wood pile by size. Arrick has the bedroll laid out, he has a water pot hanging over the fire, and he is gutting a fish.

We eat quietly, for the most part. I ask some yes or no questions when my curiosity overwhelms me. He answers politely, but I should quit asking for a while.

His voice needs to rest. I'm already becoming acutely aware of his normal voice versus his voice under strain.

"You know, I might just go to sleep early. I'm still getting used to everything." I rake my finger through my tangled curls, waiting for a response. His soft gaze scans me up and down, assessing me. It's odd for a creature resembling a demon to gaze at me like this.

Softly and curiously.

"Goodnight, Yera." His voice is so strained that it pierces my heart a bit.

He watches me curl into the bedding, the gold firelight dancing off his chalk-white skin. It almost makes him look human. Until his deep obsidian gaze meets mine, and I remember all too well that I'm no longer in the Pacific Northwest.

I lay tucked in the blankets, just watching him. His eyes drift from me to the woods and then back down to me, like he's checking in, like he needs to reassure himself that I didn't disappear when he looked away. It makes me feel safe and protected.

Mere moments pass before I'm lulled to sleep. The fire's crackle and the forest's hum have me drifting deep into an endless slumber.

‘Twas me and my lady was taken by the fairies… was drunken and stolen and taken that night.

A brogue, lilting accent carries into the night, gently rousing me from a dreamless sleep.

Me and my lassie were taken in the summer…

The sing-song melody has me pulling the covers back gently, trying not to disturb a sleeping Arrick.

I make it out of the bedding without making noise or shifting anything. My bare feet pad the ground gently, avoiding snapping twigs or anything that would loudly crunch underfoot.

Goodnight, my darlin', we leave in the mornin', runnin' from the fairies who'll take ye away.

The campfire light is dull behind me as I advance into the black forest, with only moonlight and that gentle melody to guide me. I part heavy branches with my arms, moving me deeper into the night. The ground under my feet turns damp and mossy, and I can hear the rush of water when I realize I'm close to a creek.

Green light shines just ahead, reflecting off the water's surface. I part the final bit of shrubbery blocking my view from the clearing. As it opens, green light spills into the night sky, illuminating everything in liquid emerald. A green orb the size of a grapefruit dances and settles on a boulder .

"Well, hello there, Yera." The green light calls me by name. This immediately unsettles me, and I turn to run from the light.

"Now, wait a minute, lass. I won't hurt you. Everyone in the forest knows your name." I stop at his words and turn to inspect the creature. "That's right. Come and settle next to me. I mean you no harm." His soft light is comforting, and I shift closer, resting my weight on a rounded boulder near him.

"How are you able to speak to me?"

"I'm over eight hundred years old, gal. There isn't much I can't say or do, come to think of it." I peer closer, trying to discern the shape behind the glowing light.

"What are you, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Not at all. I'm a Woodland sprite, my dear. The name is Charlie. I've been tending the flora of this forest for most of my life, and I'm a good friend to the Vaki you travel with."

"Vaki." The word rolls around in my mouth while I try to place it. My knowledge of fables is limited to fantasy novels and the one semester I took on folklore. "I'm sorry. I don't know what that is."

"Vaki are creatures who protect the area they are spelled to. Now, hold on for a moment. I'm being so rude. Would you like a cup of mead?" That question shouldn't confuse me, but it does. I want him to continue telling me about Arrick. I also don't want to be rude to a sprite.

"A cup of your mead might be a little small for me."

"Nonsense." A bone cup appears before me and fills to the brim with a dark red liquid. I look at it wide-eyed. "You can taste it, too. It's quite good." This seems like a trap. I shouldn't be drinking strange liquid from a literal green fairy. The symbolism alone should keep my lips from touching the cup, but I reach out and take it anyway.

Spirits be dammed! I guess I'm going into this head first .

I take a long swig of the liquid. It's intensely sweet, with a hint of tartness that resembles currants. It burns down my throat and settles its heat in my chest.

I look excitedly at the cup and then at the glowing sprite. "It's good. It's excellent, actually."

"There is plenty more where that came from. You've been through quite the ordeal."

"How do you know what I've been through?"

"Everything in the forest speaks to one another. We knew the moment you fell through the veil and were attacked, and we've been watching you since the Vaki found you."

"Why have you all —" I gesture to the surrounding forest. "—been watching me?"

"We watch everything, my dear."

An idea sparks in my mind. If they watch everything then perhaps he knows if my friends came through.

"Did anyone else come through the veil? I guess I really don't know how this all works."

He thinks about that for a moment. "No, no one other than you and the Stormland creatures who have been getting dropped here for weeks now."

A sharp tinge of pain strikes my chest at his words. They might not have crossed over. They could be searching for me. It's more reassuring than the alternative. I tip the cup back and drain the contents. My lips are sweet and sticky, so I lick them, delighting in the flavor. The phantom cup fills, and the sweet and tart drink returns to the brim.

"Sorry, I got ahead of myself. Can you go back to Arrick?"

I daze a little, and my limbs appear slightly loose. The effect of the drink is taking hold, and I'm relieved to find it's no different from a glass of wine .

"Oh, that stubborn boy never learned to vocalize language. Relying on our connected minds to communicate. I bet he's regretting that now."

"I'm regretting it too, if I can be frank." My words flow effortlessly, and I feel relaxed. Ready to talk; ready to figure some shit out.

"Of course you are, lass." His voice is soft and sympathetic, and the lilt only adds charm.

"Arrick is a guardian of sorts. He protects the forest and ensures the correct balance of magic. There are creatures of his nature in all areas on this plane. The only exception is the sea. They govern themselves. All Vaki are born with magic. They are also spelled with special abilities, depending on the area. Have you seen his runes?" An image flashes in my mind of his damp shirt so sheer from the creek water you could see through it to his bright white skin underneath, marked with black swirls and pictographs.

"This is so fascinating. This is all I've wanted since I've been here. A little insight." I drain the next cup of mead, no doubt craving a bit of oblivion—a respite from my reeling thoughts. A cold breeze blows in from the north, and I let it wash over me. The sweet smell of fresh pine and earth sticks to my skin and hair, like the land is laying its claim to me, marking me.

"You know what, lass? I don't believe I've ever seen a Vaki travel with anyone. Is he being pleasant to you?"

A small giggle escapes my lips. "Well, it's been quiet," I say, a laugh building in my throat. Holding my cup to the night air, I toast no one in particular.

"I'll bet it has, darlin'. I'm also bettin' he's enjoying the company."

I pause.

"What makes you say that?" I'm incredibly interested in his answer. My fingers thrum a steady beat on my legs, waiting for his response .

"As I said, I've never seen him travel with someone else. I'm sure some deep down part of him craves the company of others."

This opens up a new line of thought and a thousand more questions, and since I'm nice and buzzed, I just might as well ask them.

"Do Vaki—" I struggle with the word. "—have children? Do they mate?" The mead has made me bold, and I wish I could read Charlie's expression to see if I've crossed a line.

"They do, but it's not common. There are very few Vaki left, and they remain in their territory. So unless they mate with a different type of creature…." He trails off.

"Has Arrick ever been with someone?" I know I'm pushing the questioning, but I don't care.

I'm conversing with a glowing green ball of light and drinking mead with it. I don't think a hundred-and-fifty-old virgin warrants much shock at this point. I'm just curious.

"No, I don't think so. Not even a tavern wench. You must speak to make that bargain, if you get my meaning."

Mead spews out of my mouth as I bark out a rich laugh. Charlie starts to laugh along with me. "Oh shit, I never thought of that!" Despite feeling dizzy and slurring my words, I continue. "So not everyone can connect mind to mind."

"No, not everyone. Just creatures who have magic. There are many kinds of creatures. In the land, some are known for strength and wisdom, others for brutality and war. Not all have magic."

"What has Arrick done when encountering a non-magical creature? I'm sure in his years, he encountered a few."

Charlie thinks about that for a moment. "He has indeed. From my recollection, he listens to the problem and does his best to fix it. He'll call me or another from the forest to speak for him in extreme circumstances, like I am now. "

Wait, what?

I shake the brain fog off and really digest what he says. "Arrick asked you to talk to me? To help him explain things?"

"Oh no, lass, sorry for the confusion. I'm doing this of my own accord. The boy looked like he needed some help."

"Well, I'm glad you're here, Charlie. Now, tell me more about him never having a lover," I say, with a hint of playfulness in my voice.

Any wish I had for more knowledge fades, blurred by the mead filling my bloodstream. Now, all drunken me wants is more information on Mr. tall, dark, and quiet.