“We’re too far away to go for help.” Thalia could hear the whispers from the women who surrounded her mother. She thought that might have been Dina, but she couldn’t tell. Under a moonless sky, the worry of the women all echoed in the same tone.
“Don’t listen.” Uncle Varn tugged at Thalia’s arm. Reluctantly she pulled away from the trunk of a wide Kotemori tree. The bark on these trees was soft, not nearly as rough as the first trees they’d stumbled into on their escape from Durevin, the King’s city and capitol of the continent.
“If I don’t listen, I won’t know what’s going on.” Thalia explained matter of factly. She was always so baffled that adults didn’t understand this logic. For twelve-year-olds, unless one eavesdropped, one would never figure out what was actually going on.
“Your mother will be fine.” Uncle Varn reassured his niece. The slight tremor in his voice betrayed his surety. “She was up the very next day after she had you.”
“She had me in a palace.” Thalia did not appreciate being treated as if she were less intelligent than the rest of the party.
The only child in the group of refugees, Thalia had grown impatient at the treatment from the rest of the group. Her mother and father had always answered her questions about the world with dignity. It seemed now, of all times, that everyone was trying to shield her, to protect her.
“This is how they stave off their own fear of the future. We are embarking into the unknown, criya. We must try to have some patience for those whose lives are now following paths never expected.”
Thalia had calmed at her mother’s affection, but the vexation still waxed, particularly when she was denied information. A hard cry punctured her irritation, and Thalia’s stomach dropped. That was her mother behind those trees, her mother who had led every single one of these people into the woods to escape the mad king.
Now, she was in danger for her life.
A dark figure approached Thalia’s hiding place.
“The baby is stuck.” His voice stretched thin with exhaustion. He missed his eldest, holding still in the shadows as he spoke to Varn. “If they don’t get baby out soon…” He trailed off, running a hand over his dark hair.
Varn didn’t respond right away. Finally, he muttered, “Do you have the map?”
Thalia’s father, Granth, frowned at the inquiry, but then seemed to deflate. “You know I don’t.”
“Then you better hope she lives.” Varn seemed to have forgotten Thalia was there, which was often how she liked it. In this case, it burned to hear her uncle speak of her mother this way.
She knew all about the map. One of the witches in the court had given it to Tayla, her mother, a few days before they’d left in the middle of the night. Tayla had gathered as many good people as she could find (though Thalia was skeptical of this distinction), and as the bells of the city tolled the Mad King’s morning greeting by flinging people from the ramparts, Tayla and company had fled west, to the village the witch had promised.
The problem was, Thalia had known and now the remainder of the party had discovered, nobody but Tayla cold read the map. It was bewitched. Thalia didn’t bother to try when the men had passed the map around as Tayla had begun to give birth. Granth had snatched it back once he discovered their efforts, and tucked it into Tayla’s bags.
“I’m so glad you’re worried about my wife’s well-being, even as you worry about that map.” Granth’s voice rang cold, startling Thalia from her thoughts.
“You know what I mean, brother.” Varn backtracked quickly. “Without her we’re stranded in hostile mountains.”
“I know the stakes.” Granth turned back to the darkened forest as Tayla let out anotherr cry. “I know the stakes better than anyone.” He glanced down at Thalia and winked.
She warmed, surprised. She should have known better. Her father always found her.
“Your mother is special.” Varn actually took Thalia gently by the arm this time and guided her back to their fire. “Nobody thought she was royal.”
Royal was an odd word in Durevin, the King’s city. There were the houses, sure, but there was only one house of royalty and that was the E’Alturam. The Mad King’s house. Tayla was E’Ixtura, a lesser house. She was the seventh child to boot, and she’d developed a bad habit of wandering the city at a young age. That was where she’d met Granth, son of sea merchants. They’d been wed quickly, better to marry a merchant than birth a babe out of wedlock.
“She’s got a kindness for everyone.” Varn sighed, flopping by the fire. His face resembled his brother’s for its gaunt worry. Thalia felt the anger drain from her own face as she sat next to him. She knew he was worried for Thalia. They all were. And he wasn’t wrong… If her mother died—
A baby’s cry jagged into the crackling quiet of the fire. Thalia skittered to her feet. “Mata.” She whispered and took off running from the firelight, Varn’s caution on the dark breeze behind her.
Thalia found her parents alone, the women having gone to their own beds for the night. Granth held Tayla who leaned into him. A tiny wrapped creature lay quietly in her arms.
“Meet Scylla.” Tayla introduced Thalia to her sister. “She’s well.”
“Are you?” Thalia ignored the deep smell of copper that permeated the air.
“I am hopeful.” Tayla considered her eldest thoughtfully. “I lost a fair bit of blood, Thalia. I was just telling your father, I will need to be carried.”
Thalia appreciated her mother did not keep truths from her. It helped her grasp the urgency of the situation, and it made her feel like she could actually be of use.
“Then we’ll carry you.” Thalia glanced up at her father. “Right?”
Granth’s small, weary smile did not reach the worry in his eyes. “Right.” He replied quietly.
“You have to know about the map.” Tayla was speaking slowly, as if worried her words would run together. “I can only gift it to someone worthy. I don’t know what that means, specifically. That was what the witch said.”
“This witch.” Granth spoke bitterly as if he couldn’t help himself.
“She gave us a way out.” Tayla soothed her husband. “She couldn’t have predicted this.”
“She escaped the dungeons herself.” Granth muttered, but seemed unwilling to say more. He didn’t want to upset Tayla. “Let’s get you some rest.”
“Criya.” Tayla reached out to touch Thalia’s arm before she turned. “Look at her face.”
Thalia peered into the blankets and found two bright blue eyes peeking out from a tiny pink face.
“She’s almost purple!” Thalia looked up at her mother, horrified. “Is she ok?”
“She had a tough time coming into the world.” Tayla looked Thalia in the eye. “You will have to get her through what I cannot.”
~.~
Several days had passed since Scylla had made her way into the world. Thalia sat curled around herself, a tight ball in front of a waning fire. The dark light threw orange ghosts on the massive trunks surrounding the camp.
The party had not made it very far. Electing to carry Tayla the next day, the men and stronger women switched off, with Tayla losing blood and color each hour. Finally they’d stopped. Tayla and Granth had decided she must pass off the map, however, she had failed at every attempt. As the group had disbanded for the night, Thalia had heard rumbles, murmurs of fear at the uncertain future.
Fear, Thalia knew well, sowed only sorrow.
A flicker of movement caught Thalia’s eye. In a moving shadow from the fire, Thalia caught sight of a being, what appeared to be a tiny human, fluttering through the air.
Fae. Thalia’s breath caught. She’d heard stories, but she’d never seen one of the fair-folk herself.
“May I alight?” It asked in her tongue, its voice curiously reminding Thalia of bells.
Thalia nodded.
“We do not alight on others without permission.” The small being said. “I am—” She, for Thalia now realized the little pixie was female, gave her name. Images of the greenest leaves and pink petals falling from flowers crossed her mind, but Thalia couldn’t remember what the pixie had actually said. “But you may call me Flire.”
“Flire.” Thalia repeated. “I am Thalia.”
“Why are you crying, Thalia?”
Flire asked. Her wings, nearly the size of her body, rippled pink and gold in the light of the embers. She wore a dark pink tunic, made of some fabric Thalia couldn’t identify.
“My mother is dying.” Thalia explained softly. “She had a baby, and it didn’t go well.”
Flire remained quiet for a moment. “Pixies don’t give birth often.” She finally said. “We never die. No use in putting more of us in the world than the world can handle.”
Thalia wasn’t sure what she was supposed to make of this, so she too, remained quiet.
“But you humans live such short lives.” Flire flitted off Thalia’s shoulder and hovered in front of her face, a small silhouette between the young girl and the fire. “You love harder than we do because of it, I think.” Flire appeared to be considering her new companion. “Your sister will need milk.”
Thalia nodded morosely. She knew what babies needed. All young of the houses knew what babies needed. Older siblings in lesser houses were often employed as nurses for their young sisters and brothers.
“Not far from here, there is a bear. She has cubs. Look for the rock that is like a crown, then the stream that holds a flame.” Flire nodded, as if this was enough, then flicked off into the darkness, leaving Thalia to scramble to her feet and stare after the tiny Fae.
What in the name of the Twins, Thalia thought to herself, employing a phrase from her father’s lexicon, was that all about?
Thalia did not have to wait long to find out, however. Granth tugged her awake the next morning, dark circles under his bloodshot eyes.
“Your mother is fading.” He informed her.
“Which means Scylla will die too.” Thalia’s heart constricted.
“Unless we can figure out some way of feeding her, yes. She will pass with Tayla.” Granth sat hard on the raised roots of a tree. The darkness had lifted, leaving the morning pleasant, bright and yellow, a cruel irony to their state.
“Did you get the map?” Thalia asked the question she knew the adults had been discussing all night.
Granth just shook his head. “We’re stuck.”
Thalia didn’t know what to say.
“Without Tayla, we’re scattered. Some want to go back. Some want to move west in hopes that we will find the village accidentally. Some are so paralyzed they want to stay right here and become tree people.”
Thalia cracked half a smile at that. “I’m not sure we could make it to the branches to live in these trees, Papa.”
Granth grimaced. “No, I think you’re correct.”
They lapsed into silence. “I’m returning to your mother. Come by a bit later. She’s resting now.”
Thalia nodded miserably and watched her father slouch away. The words of the pixie ran through her mind, and Thalia stood. She steeled herself before turning and plodding into the forest. I’ll find the bear. Thalia thought fiercely. I’ll get milk.
A few hours later, Thalia’s light dress was ripped, her skin rippled with heat, and her tongue seemed to have dried right there in her mouth. She flopped down on a large boulder. She’d found no sign of a river on fire nor a crown-shaped rock. A sliver of the fear and dread that had beset the adults in the camp began to take hold in her spine. There had never been a time when she’d not known what might happen. Even when they’d fled into the woods, she’d held a trust in her mother.
Now, it seemed like crisis faced at every turn.
As Thalia sat feeling sorry for herself, she kicked her feet out into some ferns. She blinked. Then she did it again. Sliding off the rock, Thalia brushed aside the undergrowth and gasped.
Staring up at her was the largest bear print Thalia had ever seen. She could have rolled into a ball and would have fit within the paw. Thalia looked up. Another small disturbance in the ferns drew her forward. I should have known, Thalia thought excitedly, there’s no big trees here. Indeed, Thalia noted as she crept along the prints, the wide trunks of the forest where she and her group rested had no siblings in this part of the wood. Trying not to think of why this was, Thalia continued to follow the tracks until a large, flower covered boulder loomed out of the space in front of her.
There it was, the rock shaped like a crown. The stone tapered to a point, with the sides billowing out from the center. Across the remarkable geology grew a carpet of bright, white flowers. Dark purple centers gave the appearance that the rock was speckled.
Grinning at her discovery, Thalia prowled around the formation, moving steadily outwards to find the stream with the flames. She found a stream, but no flame. Frustrated, Thalia glanced at the sky. The pinks and reds of sunset heralded her time to return to camp. Retracing her steps through the bear’s prints, Thalia found her way back quickly, the undergrowth having been quite disturebed by her efforts.
She found her father, as grey as the last few days, who took her to Tayla’s bedside. In a whisper, she told her mother about Flire and the day’s adventure.
Instead of excitement, Tayla looked at her daughter in horror. “I need you to stay safe, criya.” She employed her affection desperately, as if to impart her seriousness. “I won’t make it much longer. I need you to take care of Scylla.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Thalia sat back, stung by her mother’s admonishment. During their time in Durevin, Tayla hadn’t worried nearly as much about Thalia exploring the city. During the final days, she’d insisted Thalia stay close, but that was understandable.
Granth returned to find Tayla’s eyes wide with fright. Angry, he pulled Thalia away. “What did you say to her?”
“Nothing.” Which was almost true. Thalia kept her eyes cast down as they filled with tears.
“We’re trying to transfer the map tonight.” Granth informed his eldest roughly. “Everyone has been thinking of the best thing in their life they have accomplished. They will tell Tayla and she will decide who is worthy and pass the map on.”
“She can’t decide.” Thalia mumbled, distracted.
“What?” Granth barked. His fatigue made him irritable. “Speak up.”
“The map has to decide.” Thalia looked at her father as if this was the clearest thing in the world. “It’s bewitched. Mata doesn’t have the power to shift who it recognizes.”
“And how is it you know so much about this, hmm?” Granth’s eyes darkened in suspicion.
Thalia signed. “You need to sleep Papa.”
Granth, the anger leaving him as quickly as it buoyed him, nodded. “I’ll see you in a few moments.” He turned back towards his wife, trouping through the darkening trees.
Sickened, Thalia turned too, back towards her earlier paths. As the hushed voices of the refugees swelled, Thalia slipped back into the forest.
She knew it was reckless, but she simply couldn’t stay in camp, listening to every person recount their best feature in the hopes it might impress her dying mother. It was dreadful, disgusting, it was—”
Thalia stopped. She’d made it back to the crown-like rock. In the distance, she could see a silver light dancing upon the ground.
Could it be…? Thalia bounded forward.
As the light swelled, Thalia marveled at its reach. The forest seemed to breath with the silver, turning the space between the ferns into an underwater dream.
Thalia, dropping to her knees next to the stream she’d found earlier, gazed over its edge. An odd stone sat at the bottom of the dark water, moonlight reflecting off its surface. Through the meandering creek, the reflected light did, in fact, resemble a flame. So caught in her wonder, Thalia did not hear the sound at first.
A low drone reached her, a swelling of deep rumble before quieting in a curious rhythm. Thalia, careful to jump the stream at a thin crossing, darted forward, listening to the humming. As she crept forward, the bruit grew almost deafening, and the silver light of the river melted into the darkness. Her eyes adjusted, and Thalia nearly gasped. What looked to be a small hill vibrated in front of her, the mass of the largest bear Thalia had ever laid eyes on.
She sat still for a moment, considering her plan. I didn’t bring anything but my skin. Thalia thought desperately, her little water skin bouncing on her hip as if in cruel reminder. What do I do?
A small movement to her right stilled Thalia. Her heart raced as she watched the ferns dance in front of her. Then a small snout poked out of the dark undergrowth.
A cub, eyes twinkling at his new friend, nudged her, nose wet.
Thalia, so caught in her quiet joy, didn’t notice Flire astride the cub’s neck.
“You followed the map.” Flire, who didn’t seem to emote the way humans did, seemed pleased enough.”
“I did.” Thalia answered. “But I don’t know how to get the milk.”
“How much do you love your sister?” Flire’s voice harbored an edge that Thalia didn’t like. But she answered honestly.
“I would do anything for her.”
Flire’s face stretched into a smile. “Good. Here is your plan.”
~.~
A roar echoed through the trees, quivering even the heartiest of trunks. Thalia was not at all sure this was a good plan, but it was better, she had reasoned, than letting Scylla die.
With an eye on the silver in the distance, Thalia poked the sleeping bear once more and took off into the woods. Grateful that the undergrowth here seemed to be comprised mostly of ferns and other light plants rather than the prickers and brambles of the heavier trees, Thalia surged forward, hearing the snap of branches behind her and the thunder of an angry mother.
Thalia hoped Flire knew what she was doing. The little pixie had promised that four good circles of running, and the bear would be too tired to feel anyone milking her at all. Flire had then whisked away to find “more containers for you” and had pointed to a large stick. “That will work.”
Thalia’s adrenaline pumped as small branches licked at her face, drawing blood. The bear, while angry, did not seem to harbor much speed, for which Thalia was grateful. Thalia’s lungs ached and her legs grew heavy, but still she ran, keeping the silver light of the burning river ever in her sight.
True enough, the bear began to slow, deep huffing emanating from its own exhausted body. Finally, it collapsed, right back where it had started, lumbering into the field as Thalia too, flopped to the ground. The soil lay strewn around as if an entire racetrack, the kind on Durevin’s outskirts, had just been implemented by a thousand angry workers.
“You ready?” Flire’s voice startled Thalia. She jumped to her feet, ignoring the needles that seemed to have taken refuge in her heels.
“Here.” Flire fluttered up and grasped several large skins that lay across the back of the little cub’s behind. “He’ll show you how.”
The white-haired pixie flew close to the brown bear and whispered something into his ear. Thalia could have sworn he was smiling.
“Good luck Thalia.” Flire fluttered once more into the darkness. “I hope you save your sister.”
Unable to see the little pixie any longer, Thalia turned toward the cub. “After you.”
The many skins hanging limply in her hand, Thalia followed the small creature as he lumbered, just like his mother, into the clearing.
He nudged aside a couple of his mother’s heavy limbs, before nosing at one of her teats. He then put his paws on either side of her belly and latched on.
Thalia, unsure what she was supposed to do exactly, grasped a teat under her arm and held a skin open. Gently she squeezed. Milk shot out faster than she expected. The little cub grumbled, as if he were giggling. Gently, Thalia tried again with more success.
Finally, staggering slightly under the weight of several skins, Thalia backed away from the bear and its mother. She whispered a thank you, and hoped the cub understood. He sat, head cocked in the early morning light, and once more seemed to smile.
As quickly as she could, Thalia turned and made her way back to the camp.
Varn found her first, his dark eyes frantic. He called to Granth, not caring about the volume in the forest.
“I’ve got her, Granth, I’ve got her.” The sound of undergrowth parting for a large man reached Thalia, and she found herself in her father’s embrace.
“I found milk.” She said, muffled, into his chest. “I’ve got it for Scylla.”
Granth didn’t seem to understand at first. “You… have milk?”
“I do.” Thalia shrugged heavily under her burdens. “We just have to figure out how to save it.”
Granth ran a hand through his hair once more. “Come with me.”
Varn took the skins from his niece as her father pulled at her hand. He had not asked about her appearance nor from where she had obtained the milk, and a deep dread filled Thalia.
Granth dropped to his knees at his wife’s side. Thalia was right. Tayla was as good as dead. Her skin grey, her eyes barely open, Thalia watched her beautiful mother try to breathe.
“Tell her, Thalia.” Granth said hoarsely. “Tell her about the milk.”
She did. Thalia recounted her wandering at the behest of a pixie, how she had found the mother bear and run in circles for the better part of the night. She told her mother how Scylla would at least be able to have fresh milk for a few more days, and how the women would ferment the rest like they used to do on the merchant ships.
Thalia finished as thick, hot tears rolled down her face. The sun had risen now, a dappled golden morning, so unlike the silvery magic of the night before.
Tayla’s face stretched into the smallest smile. Her eyes rolled up to Thalia’s face, and with her last bit of strength, she lifted her hand to her daughter’s chest.
Thalia placed her own hands over her mother’s ice cold fingers, surprised to discover paper held there.
The map fell into Thalia’s hands as Tayla’s own dropped to her side. Tayla breathed no more. Granth let out a low moan.
Thalia looked down at the map that had caused such discomfort in the camp. Dark lines denoted the boundaries of the continent, sharp slices of ink grew into forests and mountains. And in the corner of the Kotemor, at the edge of the west, sat a star.
Ilia read the name of the village. Ilia.
It’s me, Thalia thought numbly, I will get us home.
~.~
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