Chapter Sixteen

  Fear Not the Wolves that Eat the Flesh

  Nephis huddled in her bedroll, her knees tucked to her chin, and her wrists pressed to her chest. Though fall had not yet come upon them, the nights were still cold. They had outrun the guards and the Sons of Barthus, but her beating heart, pulsing with terror and wonder, no longer kept her warm at night. All that was left to her was the thin bedroll and the frail, dying fire.

  Though she was miserably tired, the chattering of her own teeth kept her awake. To escape the wind and prying eyes, they slept in a grove of trees, some way off the beaten path. But this meant they would not sleep on soft grass, but upon tough, knotted roots that bruised her back and did not let her lie straight. That night, she tossed and turned, gritting her teeth and desperately praying that she might be granted an hour of rest. But that prayer would go unanswered. Nephis did not sleep a wink that night. And when she heard the birds begin to herald the coming sun, her heart groaned; she knew what tomorrow would bring. Nothing but a fog of the mind and a short and sudden drop within.

  After weeks of travel, they had at last made it to their destination. Though beyond the region of Valkeath, they had little idea of where else to go. Once again, Nephis found herself on the Western edge of Karlia, the great continent on which Radina rested. For now, they would not be on the coast, with its splendid cities and tall palaces, but in the hill country where little of interest ever happened. These were a simple people, plain and good.

  “This is Velluk, or Valkeath as your scroll calls it,” Kugo said, “Where to?”

  Nephis hunched over a mug of water thinned wine, and a hunk of rock hard bread. Her eyes were heavy with bags, and a grimace stretched across her face. She hardly heard him. Instead, she mourned that poor, dull rock. “What I wouldn’t do for a cake,” she groaned aloud.

  “We’re where the scroll pointed us!” Kugo snipped so that she could hear him. “Where are we headed?” he asked again.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. The last month of her life had been dedicated to running, and now she had pulled so far ahead that it finally became clear how little they had planned.

  Kugo stared at her blankly.

  Nephis looked up with tired, bore-though eyes.

  “Why don’t we ask people?” Moss piped in as he carefully observed a stale biscuit, “Ask them about the elves.”

  Nephis and Kugo considered it. It seemed uncertain. What should the ordinary man know about elves? These towns would not have any library or great recordbook beyond a hundred or two years. Moss’ idea was no doubt a fruitless endeavor, but what others did they have?

  Each day, they pestered the townfolk about elves, and when they were told nothing, they would walk to the next by evening, camping outside the bounds of the village. Like loons, they seemed, absurd vagrant wandering into town and asking about a thing like that. Town after town, they went, learning nothing, but they had no better ideas. They grew more and more haggard. Nephis in particular began to hunch her neck in weariness, seeming even more vole-ish than before.

  They asked round and round the town if anybody had ever heard a story of elves living in these hills. And this time, someone finally had. She was an older woman, her children long grown, but still kicking. She had a great big, red nose and a snaggly smile that showed a simple grace and kind humility.

  “May I ask you a question?” Nephis asked the baker’s wife in a droning voice. She had once asked, “May I ask you an odd question?” but she feared asking that question was beginning to take up quite a lot of time.

  “Oh, please do!” she answered, leaning over the plain counter.

  “Have you ever heard any stories of elves living here?” Nephis asked, and she almost turned away out of habit.

  The baker’s wife scrunched her face up, so that only glittering green eye showed itself, but soon relaxed as old memory bubbled up to the surface. “You’ve just reminded me of something from long ago. My grandmother used to tell me about the fae folk that lived in the gorge.”

  “The gorge?” Nephis asked, a bit light returning to her.

  “Yes. There’s a gorge not too far from here, about a few hours' walk. My grandmother used to tell me that elves and faeries lived in the gorge. She told me all sorts of stories that she knew. Most of them were meant to scare me, I think, to keep me from going near there. The gorge is wicked! The elves there like to trick and eat children.”

  This was not unusual. Elves were a common theme in children’s stories, and they appeared in all sorts of ways. Sometimes benevolent, sometimes wicked, but always beautiful.

  “Anything else?” Nephis asked. “What did they do in the gorge?”

  “Hrm.” She furrowed her great brows, digging deep into the well of her memory. ”Yes, I remember now,” she said with a chuckle, ”Should a child wander the gorge unaccompanied, the elves would grab them and take them to their glass palace! The elves didn’t like to be seen, see, so they lived all their lives in a magic palace made of glass so pure you couldn’t see it or anything inside it, only straight through it. And if you were naughty and went to the gorge, they might take you away and you’d never be seen again!” The old woman smiled at Nephis, ”Thank you for asking that. I hadn’t thought of my grandmother in a few years now. I should have told my sons that one! Might have kept the rascals out of trouble!”

  Glass! A boon of glass and pleasure! The old king had granted them a palace.”Ah!” Nephis exclaimed, ”Thank you, madame! Would you mind pointing me in the way of the gorge?”

  ”’Madame!’ Ha! I feel like a right lady now,” she laughed at the idea of it, ”I don’t mind telling you, I think I owe it to you. But would you mind telling me why you’re going around asking about elves?”

  ”Erm,” Nephis suddenly grew a little cold from nerves and embarrassment. There really was no proper way to explain it. ”I’m a mage from the College of Saint Albert on a journey of inquiry.” It was almost true, and Nephis owed her the whole truth, though she couldn’t afford it.

  The baker’s wife's eyes squeezed in suspicion, and her once jolly smile withered away into pursed lips. ”A mage, huh? I can’t say I’ve ever heard of such a place, but keep your magics to yourself. Don’t go getting us normal folk all wound in it.”

  Nephis’ heart deflated a little. ”Of course, I would not dream of it.”

  ”Good. Now be on your way, w-” the baker’s wife caught her tongue, ”Miss.”

  ”Right.”

  Nephis eventually managed to wrangle Moss and Kugo, who were both busy frightening the locals with their questions. They loomed over them like thugs. The villagers were keen to grant the party directions to the gorge and out of their little town. And off they went, trudging along an old dirt road hemmed in by young trees, not more than a few years old. ”Well, I hardly believed that someone might actually have an answer,” Kugo commented.

  ”Yes,” Nephis said, ”Neither did I.”

  Eventually, the road came to an end, cut off by a broken bridge that once spanned the great gorge. And great it was, a deep white gash in the earth that stretched as far as the eye could see. It was no wonder parents wished their children to stay far from it. One misstep and a child would plummet down into the earth. Worse, the bridge had collapsed some time ago, its white washed wood now rotted and flaked away. It was little wonder, Nephis supposed, the road here had been little traveled and the bridge had once been awfully long. A town such as this likely did have the means or much reason to keep it in good condition.

  This, however, was an issue. On the other end of the gorge was the kindly path down into its depths. They could walk several miles around the gorge to the other side, though it may cost them hours. And perhaps they should have taken that road, for instead, they took to prodding their surroundings for another way down. And they found one, only it took them hours to do so. The way down was treacherous and harsh, paved by loose stones and thick roots that sprouted from the walls, lying carelessly over their outcroppings. Nephis hugged the walls, pressing her back against it, though not so much as to tear her coat. She was not frightened by heights, but being so close to a terrible drop did no good for her heart. And when they at last reached the bottom, she fell to her knees, glad to once again be on solid ground.

  The bottom of the gorge their brows relieved by the kind shadows cast by rocky walls. Tall and white, they were, like a mighty canal. But the river had dried up long ago. All that was left was thin and mottled grass, blessed by whatever rain managed to make its way down. Even still, the ground remained even and speckled with paltry flowers that struggled against their meager wages. But what was not waiting for them at the bottom was a palace of glass and pleasure. There was no sign of any pagentry or elves or any sort of mysterious or wonderful thing. Only grass and stone.

  Kugo scratched the back of his head. “Are you sure this is the place?”

  “Where else would it be?” Nephis replied, “Besides, I cannot imagine a palace made of glass being long for this world.”

  And they stood for a while, realizing they had no shovels or tools to dig up the earth. Moss was the first to start looking properly. He got down on his belly and began to search through the grass. Nephis nearly laughed at the sight, but quickly realized that she had no better plan. She stood awkwardly for a while, and stood even still when Kugo joined Moss on the grass, taking off his mask so that he might see better. Eventually, Kugo looked back at her. “Are you going to help?” he asked, “You are going to stand there forever if you don’t.”

  “Well, I don’t think it right for a lady . . .” Nephis excused herself.

  Kugo stood up, aghast at the princess. “This was your idea. Are you really going to make us do all the work? How long do you want to stay in this pit?”

  Nephis grumbled under her breath, but hiked up her skirt and scuttled about on hand and knee. They crawled around like pack mules until Nephis’ back stung and felt as stiff as a rod. The sun began to linger above the horizon, and they still had found nothing. Nephis began to lose hope; perhaps there never were any elves here, and it all was a great coincidence. Or, even worse, something had once existed here but had long been washed away by wind and rain. A cold feeling crept up in her heart. Here she was, Fair Lady Nephis Flores, groveling in a gorge for nothing. And as her discontent was about to reach its height, she felt something in the stiff, green grass. Something smooth and cool to the touch. And from the weeds she lifted a shard of glass, which fit snugly in her palm.

  “Look what I found!” she gasped and held it to the light. It was as pure as water. And as thin and even as a sharp blade. Nothing so fine would be found anywhere within a hundred miles of here.

  Kugo and Moss gathered around to stare at it.

  Kugo grunted, wondering what it could mean.

  Moss gazed in wonder at it.

  Nephis turned it in the light, its edges were still sharp and glimmered like a rainbow in the evening light. The glass itself seemed to shimmer as she moved it. And then she noticed something strange and held it to her eye.

  There in front of her was a palace, pure and shining, made entirely of glass. It was grand, with tall towers and ornate buttresses. She peered into it, but trying to see inside of it, to tell its walls and its rooms, was like trying to find a drop in a pool. The rooms were laid bare before her, and she could see nothing.

  “There it is! A palace of glass!” she exclaimed.

  “What is it like?” Moss asked.

  “It’s beautiful! Like nothing I have ever seen! It shines in the light like diamond but is more clear, I wish I could see it better.” And she reached out to touch its walls, but felt nothing, and her hand passed through it like a ghost. “I cannot touch it,” she bemoaned, “It’s not really there.”

  “That’s no wonder,” Kugo commented. “But . . . could I look?” he sheepishly asked.

  “One moment, I want to look one more moment,” she said, and began to rub its edges.

  And then Moss and Kugo watched as Nephis vanished from before them, and a glass shard fell into the grass.

  “Ah!” Nephis hissed; she had cut her thumb on the glass. “Silly me,” she muttered, and then she looked up. She stood in a field of lovely, white flowers. And before her stood a great and beautiful palace made of pure, unblemished glass. So entranced was she that she did not notice how the world about her changed. How long it took her to see that the sky had lost its red luster and was now dim, as if it were clouded? How long it took her to see that the far reaches of the gorge were no longer seen, but lost in tall and lovely thickets which had not been there before. And how long it took her to see that Moss and Kugo were gone, vanished without a trace.

  The palace stood before her, a sparkling, brilliant temple not made for safety or defense, but pleasure and pleasure alone. Her walls were tall and thin, her crenelations like the teeth of a comb, her buttresses left in the open, like statues in a garden. She could see through the walls, but could tell nothing. It was pleasing to the eye, and she could find no fault in it.

  “Moss, Kugo!” she exclaimed, “Can you believe it?” And only then did she look around and see that they were gone. She whipped around, supposing they were behind her, but there was no one. She was alone in the gorge. The vale seemed fuller than she first thought; its grass was lush and fitted with flowers. The walls were neater and whiter. And at the far reaches were thickets of lush green and high reaches. And the broken, rotted bridge that stood above them only moments ago was nowhere to be seen, as if it had never existed at all. Even still, despite the emerald beauty, she was a little frightened.

  “Moss! Kugo! Hello!” she cried. “This isn’t funny, whoever you are! Put me back!”

  But no one responded. There was no breeze or rustling, the air was still and did not waver. So still was the world that it seemed she was the only one who moved in it. Nephis was only grateful that the grass moved beneath her feet and did not pierce her. Here was neither heat nor cold, light nor dark, only an eternal moment, only this glass palace and the great stone walls that surrounded it.

  Nephis ran to the far end of the gorge, hoping to find a way through, but found the thicket to be impenetrable. It was a thick tangle of thorns, like a brier of daggers. She could not even lay a hand upon it without cutting herself, let alone pass through it. Though she poked around every corner and could not find a way through. Nor could she return the way she came. The gorge walls had no faults or even gaps, should she have been able to climb them. There was only the palace left to her.

  She crept towards it. A beautiful thing, and appealing to the eyes. Without shadows, only the ever-bending of light. As she stepped to its open doors, she heard a sound faintly on the air. Like the ringing of a chime calling her deeper. Nephis could hardly make it out, but was certain she had heard it. She called once again, “Hello! Is anyone there?” Her voice echoed through the halls, but no one replied.

  The halls were long and high. It was not blown from one piece, but from many, much like a church window or a mosaic, though none of the pieces were colored. She could even see down into black earth and across into other halls. Though the further she looked, the more her sight was obscured. It was a bright and wonderful place. And the longer she walked its halls, the more she came to love it. She could nearly see her own reflection in the crystal, and she seemed prettier than before. But no matter how long she looked, she could not see clearly. And then, as she stared, something moved. A shift of color and fog. Whatever had been staring back at her moved, and it ran.

  “Hey!” Nephis cried as she chased after it. Rushing through the shimmering halls until they all seemed like one another. And though she could see clearly, she could not see a way out. As she turned, each hall and door seemed like the rest, and she did not recall which way she came. But in the far distance, she could see a way she did not know. There seemed to be a great ballroom ahead, and this is where that shadow resided. Though it now seemed larger than before.

  Kugo and Moss stood before the shard of glass that now lay on the ground.

  “Nephis!” Moss called at it. She did not respond.

  The both of them stared a little longer.

  “Nephis!” they both called. “Can you hear us?” “Where have you gone?”

  Eventually, Kugo dared to pick up the thing. It was light and seemed otherwise to be a piece of glass. He stared into it as Nephis had before and was astonished when he could indeed see the palace in all of its glory. He walked across the gorge, his eye glued to the glass, but for all his looking, he could not find Nephis within it. It was only a beautiful palace.

  “What if we break it?” Moss suggested.

  Kugo swallowed and did not answer for a while. He had thought the same thing, but his mind was a whirl with what-ifs. “No. We could risk trapping her inside. Who knows what may happen?”

  And so they stood for a while.

  “Stop!” Nephis cried as she ran through the halls, the shaded figure growing closer and closer. And then, she stopped. The figure wreathed from pure sight grew clearer and was now towering over her. She could tell it wore long and fine garments, but she could not make out its face. Then it spoke.

  “Why dost you hide yourself, child of man?” Its voice cut through the sheets of glass, like the strumming of the harp it sounded to her. Not frightening, not mean, but inviting and warm.

  The words were caught in her throat.

  “Come closer, let me gaze upon thine self,” it asked, “I assure you, I am not fearsome.”

  And against her better judgment, Nephis stepped closer. For she was lost and tired. And she pressed up on the great glassen door that should have been heavy, but instead opened with the ease of the wind.

  Standing, waiting for her in the gentle room was a great creature. It’s arms were long and thin and veiled in dark blue robes, beset with the patterns of stars. But it did not have a man’s head, but a skull, that of a wolf’s, long and snoutish and graced in golden chains and pendents of every creed.

  “I am Lunasagh, that is mine own name,” he announced himself. And bowed his bone head low. “Welcome to my home.”

  “A pleasure,” Nephis answered.

  “Then you hast found the right one.” And the great Lunasagh drew closer and peered into her eyes. He himself had no eyes, only bone, gnawed sockets, but even still, Nephis could tell he was looking directly at her, into her.

  Nephis stepped back, frightened of the beast.

  He swiftly floated towards her and placed his strong, bone hand upon her cheek. “You are lost in this glass palace. You needn’t be frightful. I am hither.” He was warm. And Nephis all at once felt that she could trust him.

  Silver bells. He sounded of silver bells.

  “Come, drink,” he said, “I have good tea and fine caketh.” And waved his blue sleeves like a flag billowing in the wind. When they settled, there was a small and cozy round table, and set upon it was a great kettle as large as Nephis. And on the edge, waiting for her, was a teacup, pretty and white and little.

  Nephis stared at it blankly.

  “What is the matter?” Lunasagh asked, and then he too looked upon the table. “Ah! Where are my manners! You haven’t a chair to sit upon!” And he waved his sleeves once more, and a plush, tight-threaded chair appeared before the cup and cakes. “Come, sit.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Nephis sat down in the chair. She sunk into it, it was soft as cotton and so nice she felt her shoulders rise to her ears and her gold collar cover up her chin. Lunsagh poured a cup of tea, which billowed with steam. The tea was bitter and hot, but the cakes were firm and sweet. When she ate one, she desired the other. Nephis stuffed herself with them, popping one almond cake after the other. It had been so long since she had anything so fine. In a way, she was frightened that if she did not eat them now, she might never have one again.

  Lunasagh only sat and watched her. He had a pleasing curl to his skull that made it seem that he smiled gently at her. ““I am glad, child of man,” he said, “Have as many as you like. And what is your name?”

  “Nephis,” she said between cakes, “My name is Nephis.”

  “Nephis, do you like these cakes?” Lunasagh asked kindly.

  “They are the most wonderful cakes I have ever had!” she answered, “Or at least in a long while.”

  “I am glad,” he said, “Have as many as you like.” And he waved his arm, and the plate was full of cakes again. “Should you find the almond dull, I have orange flower, and blueberry, and cardamom. Would you like to try them?”

  Nephis stared at the almond cakes for a little while. They were terribly good, but she would not mind to try to the others. “I’ll have them all!”

  “Good, have as many as you like.”

  Before her sat little piles of cakes, soft and speckled orange flower cakes, blueberry with frosting, and gentle and warm cardamom. And each was wonderful. With every new thing she tried, she felt as if she would melt away, like butter on a summer morning.

  “What are you?” Nephis finally asked.

  “I am the warden of this place, these are my halls,” he answered.

  “Well, what sort of place is this then?” Nephis asked, for it was very wonderful.

  “It is the Crystal Palace!” Lunasagh exclaimed, “A place of pleasure for many!”

  “For the elves?” Nephis asked.

  “Yes, for many elves. Though it has been empty for many years now. It has been so long since the palace has had any residents,” moaned the faerie, for what else could it be? “Where have they gone? My dear elves? I still yearn for their feasting and dancing and revelry. This place was made for them, and I was set here for them, to fill their long days and quiet nights. That the nights would be short and the days stretch on. A place where no concessions need be made.” The crystal palace tolled with his tears. But he turned up to her again. “You are here now! That the days might be long and free! Have another cake!”

  And Nephis ate another, and another, until something started to feel wrong. Her stomach did not hurt and she hardly felt full, but the cakes did not test as well as they first did. They were drier now and far too sweet; the sugar and bread stuck to the roof of her mouth, and their paste was like glue upon her teeth. She pushed the plate away. Even the tea was stained with its flavor.

  “What is wrong?” Lunasagh asked. “Do you tire of it? Do you not want it anymore?”

  “It was very good, Lunasagh,” Nephis answered, “But only for a while, I think I have had enough.”

  “That is alright!” Lunasagh answered with some panic. “Come with me!”

  And the faerie led her to another room, deeper within. This room was smaller, and before them stood three doors with handles without but not within, each made of silver glass. “I know what you want!” he said and floated towards one of the doors. He waved his blue sleeves over it, and the door rippled like water. As it rippled, it changed and flittered with warm and golden colors. On the other side of the door sat a great feast. Golden roast chicken sat upon golden plates. Rich and fatty stews bubbled in silver pots. Fruits, like gemstones, glittered in crystal bowls. And oh, the smell! The spices wafted through the door, butter and garlic, good and pleasing. How wonderful it seemed to Nephis. Her mouth watered at it. All at once, she was hungry again. Everything was precious, nothing was lacking. The napkins were silk, and each empty chair was a throne like no other. Music carried from another room, and each wall was lit with white candles. And the wine, oh the wine, was as red as blood and so strong she nearly tasted it from here.

  “Go on, eat and be merry,” Lunasagh coaxed her.

  But something was wrong. “How long should the dinner last?” Nephis asked in her haze, “I must get back to Moss and Kugo soon. They must be worried about me.”

  “Do not fret. Come now and eat a while. It is only a meal,” he whispered.

  The scent of roast duck tickled her nose. And she saw a chair just her size, set with precious furs. But the room was empty. She pinched her nose. “No!” she sqwaked, “No, I must get back!”

  “Ah, do not be lonely! I know what you want more than these. Come hither,” and he drifted to the next door and waved his hand over it. And there it shimmered and there behind it was a man. He was tall and fair, with wonderful, sad eyes and strong arms. He was glittering and iron. He had not man ears but long and daggered ears, the ears of an elf. He beckoned to her.

  Nephis felt her face burn. “No, I cannot!” she stammered, “I have a place to be!”

  He played with her gaze with his.

  Nephis howled and shut her eyes as tight as they might go.

  “Do you not want love?” Lunasagh asked, his voice shook and trembled with anger.

  “That – that was not love!” she said in a warbling voice. “That was not love at all!”

  Lunasagh grumbled, and he stared closer at her. He spun around her and viewed her from every which way. “I know what you want more than men,” he hummed and waved his blue sleeves over the third door. It shone and in it Nephis saw herself, except she was taller and more beautiful. Yes, she had great, long legs and ebony hair that spilled onto the crystal floor. It was straight and neat. And around her were all of her sisters, each of them pretty, but not as pretty as she. Nephis gazed at her self. She almost didn’t believe it, but it moved as she moved, like through a mirror. She was more desirable in every way; her waist was so small that she could wrap her hands around it. Her chest, once small, was now greater than any of her sisters’, and her hips were just as wide. She was white as snow and her eyes as black as night. Like this, she could have any man, every man at her feet, and every woman would curse her and beg her.

  Nephis eyes were caught coldly in hers. She could not speak, but only turned her head to look at herself. Had she ever been so beautiful? Could she ever be so beautiful? She looked down at her own hands, and they were now rough and logged with dirt; her nails, once clear and smooth, were now chipped and scuffed. But in the mirror, they were long and slender and clean.

  “Well, isn’t this what you wanted?” Lunasagh asked, “Go on, you need only touch it, and it will be yours.”

  And her hand reached, trembling for her hand. But within her welled a tiny voice, faintly screaming from her soul. “No!” Nephis yipped quietly. “No, I cannot!”

  “Why not!?” Lunasagh snapped in anger.

  “I can’t! It isn’t real!” Nephis cried.

  “But it is! Take it and you will have it! Love him and he will love you! Eat it and you will taste it!” he replied.

  “But it’s not! None of it is real, not the feast or the boy or that me, that is not me nor will it ever be!” She cried again and shut her eyes and pressed her hands upon them. “There are things we cannot see that are real! But there are too things we can see that are not!”

  “Just look a moment and you will have everything your heart desires!”

  “I do not wish to see any more!” Nephis shouted at him.

  Lunasagh howled in despair. “I don’t understand!”

  “Show me no more falsehoods!” Nephis demanded. “I wish to leave now!”

  “You can leave whenever you like,” Lunasagh groaned.

  “Then point the way out to me,” she said.

  “I do not know it,” he replied.

  And Nephis stuck her nose into the air and began to march off in a huff.

  “It is not that way,” Lunasagh said.

  “How would you know?” Nephis replied.

  “I know that way, that is to the Western hall, there is a kitchen and many bedrooms, but not any way out,” he told her as the end of his snout scraped the floor.

  “Then show me where you don’t know!” she berated him and pulled at his blue coat until he looked her in the eyes once again, “And if you know every place, then show me every place!”

  Lunasagh did not say anything and only looked away.

  “You want to give me what I want?” she shook him, “Then show me the Crystal Palace, every nook!”

  Lunasagh led her mopingly through the high halls and shining rooms. It was a beautiful place, though cold and lonely. Now with clearer eyes, Nephis could not ever imagine this place to have been homey or kind, even if it were full of people and tea and cakes. But as she looked around and was distracted, Lunasagh had an icy glint in his soul and waved his blue sleeve once more. And there appeared before Nephis the young and handsome elf from before. He fell to her feet and held her legs with strong and cold hands, “Will you not forgive me?” the elf said, “I have done you wrong, but I will do you good now and forever! Should you only forgive me?”

  Nephis huffed. “I hate groveling, sniveling men! If you knew my heart, you would have known that.” And she kicked the elf in his chest, and he disappeared into a blanket of cottonwood seeds. When she looked up to her host, she saw he was cowering. Nephis crinkled her nose in disgust. “Did the elves or you keep treasures here?” she demanded.

  “Yes,” he whimpered, “But the elves took nearly all of them before they left!”

  “Give me the rest and I might forgive you for trying such a foolish trick!” she held her head high. And the faerie pitifully nodded.

  He took her to the center-most hold of the glass palace, where the light was so bent and warped that it cast strange shadows upon the floor. The trees outside the palace were twisted and flattened, like splotches upon the wall. And there in its center was a grand staircase that descended into the earth. “Go on first,” Nephis demanded of Lunasagh. And he did, lighting the way for her.

  And there in the bottom was a vault that lay open even now. Scattered upon the floor were some gemstones and money. Yet along a far wall, in a cubby, was a bundle of something silver. Rope, silver rope sat in the wall. And Nephis looked it over; it was finely woven and not too thick. “What is this?” Nephis asked.

  And Lunasagh trodded over to see it. “That is rope. It was left behind. I suppose the residents saw little use in it.”

  “Is it good rope?” Nephis asked.

  “If it was in the Crystal Palace, it was the best of rope,” he said morosely.

  And Nephis reached out to grab it.

  Kugo and Moss had been long staring at that shard of glass, wondering what to do with it. Kugo had decided that breaking it would be a last resort. But he had at last noticed something about it. Along its rough ridge shone red light. There were flecks of blood stuck in its teeth. He touched it to his clothes and watched as it stained. This was Nephis’ blood.

  “She bled on it, or cut herself, and it took her in,” Kugo explained to Moss.

  “If we cut on it, we can go get her?” Moss asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Kugo mulled the idea over.

  “I will do it,” Moss said, holding out his wooden hand. “I will go in.”

  Kugo froze a little. “Are you sure?” he asked, “You may not be able to come out. She may be stuck there.”

  “Then I will be stuck with her,” Moss replied in a voice like a low bell.

  Kugo nodded and held out the glass to Moss. And, hardly even able to look, he dragged it across Moss’ barky skin.

  Nothing happened.

  “I suppose you need to spill blood for it,” Kugo sighed, “Or we’re barking up the wrong tree.”

  “Your turn,” Moss said.

  “Wait a moment!” Kugo exclaimed. “I will! I will, but not yet! There may be another way!”

  Moss hummed and nodded.

  And so they sat awhile. Then Kugo spotted an animal scurrying around in the dirt. A small vole poking out of the ground. He leapt for it, but it disappeared quickly from him. If he could only squeeze down into the tunnel, he could grab it with ease. He dare not dig it up either, lest he collapse it upon the creature. They both sighed. There was nothing else here. So they returned up the gorge in hopes of finding some animal they could cut.

  The sun had nearly faded from the sky, so that the world was washed in blue. The two of them trudged up the old and lonely road, and chill came over Kugo. On the horizon, he could just see the village, and the people fled from it. And as they approached the village, the air was filled with the shrill cries of terror. They hurried up the hill and into the main street to see a wicked sight.

  Howls and barking sent cold shivers down Kugo and Moss’ backs. Harsh and low they were, like the sound of stone crashing against stone. These were not the angry cries of a simple wolf, but something worse. The two of them pressed over and into the town’s main square to face a wave of fleeing villagers. In the center of the road were two beasts, snapping and snarling. Wolves as tall as Kugo’s broad shoulders bounded towards the townsfolk. A young child already lay beneath a paw as wide as her chest. The little girl quivered and shrank as a great black maw lowered towards her neck. A mouth full of ivory fangs bared in a terrible snarl.

  Kugo and Moss charged the beast and managed to wrangle it down so that the girl could run away screaming. Together, they could keep the dire wolf from biting or lashing at the people. But only together. For it was mightier than any one man, with great and supple limbs, its fur was like padded armor, and its mouth lined with fangs like iron blades. Each throw rattled the two of them, nearly taking them off their feet. But it was not alone. The stalked and narrowed its sharp eyes at a man who had tumbled to the ground, and there was nothing Moss or Kugo could do. Moss tried to root his feet into the ground so that vines and tendrils might bind the wolf to the ground. But the black beast was too erratic, stamping its feet at every moment, evading and snapping its bonds.

  The free dire wolf loomed over the man and would soon have everyone in the village if left alone. Kugo grit his teeth and pulled the shard of glass that bound Nephis from his pocket and flung it with all his might at the village man. After all, he was already dead if left to the wolf. The glass shard sung through the air with a whistle and it sliced across the man’s arm just as a sharp maw snapped down into the air. The glass fell to the ground. But out of it tumbled the princess, who was thrown from it as if she had slipped down the stairs.

  She looked around, confused and amazed. “Ah!” she exclaimed, “I nearly had the rope!” And then she looked up at the red-eyed beast beside her. “Oh!” she cried and scrambled to her feet.

  “You’re back!” Moss exclaimed. “Was it tight in there?” he asked as he wrestled with the wolf.

  Nephis stumbled back. “Less and more,” she stammered, her mind on the beast.

  Kugo was amazed, but quickly put two and two together. “The glass can only hold one!” he shouted, “I cut a man with it to keep him from the wolf!”

  “You sent someone in there!?” Nephis cried, “With him?! Oh no, that will not do!” And she dived past the wolf and for the glass shard. And as the dire beast whipped around towards her, she sliced her thumb against the sharp glass and pressed her blood into it.

  Once more, the wolf bit nothing. And the man spilled out, shaking and afraid. “A palace?” he cried, “A wolf!” And the man ran and stumbled, tearing the dirt beneath him as he fled.

  “Nephis!” Kugo roared. They couldn’t stop the wolves on their own, they could hardly stop. An idea flickered in his mind. “Moss! Hold this one back, just for a moment!”

  “Okay!” Moss yelled back and braced his wide hands around the beast’s shoulders. He could not stop it like this, but he could slow it.

  Kugo let go and threw himself beneath the dire wolf, snatching the shard of glass from its shadow. It brought its slobbering head low to him. Kugo readied himself. Should he flinch, he would be lucky to make it out maimed. The beast’s fur was too thick for the glass to pierce. Nasty creatures. He stood to face it. It looked at him warily; something was cautious within those hungry, red eyes of his. Kugo barked at and made himself large and fearsome.

  The proud creature barked back and opened its great and wet mouth. Death flashed before Kugo, a hungry and piercing maw. He drove his fist into the wolf’s mouth and dug in. He felt jaws that might crush steel wrap around his arm, pressing in, breaking skin. And then it vanished, sucked into the glass. Nephis tumbled back.

  “Back at the start!” she cried, “It sent me back!”

  “The wolf!” he cried, “You’re here now, so help us some.”

  “Oh! Where’s the other?” she wondered, “Never mind!”

  Though Moss held the beast fast, alone, it was dragging him through the dirt. Though he tried his best, he was only slowing it. Kugo jumped in to help, drawing his blades as he went. But what was Nephis to do? She wove a bolt of fire, but it only annoyed the beast, only singing its fur, angering it. She could not kill it easily, perhaps a better or different mage could, but not her. She knew no spells for cutting or piercing, nor any truly meant for death. But perhaps she need not. And the dark of that chamber beneath the castle flooded her mind, a thousand lessons for only a handful of spells. She ran from the wolf and into the grass and trees, where she ripped leaves from their branches. And, having nothing else, she spit into them so they might be wet. She came close again to the beast and cupped her hands full of grass and debris. She spoke a spell.

  “Like smoke reveals a hidden fire, so do hands reveal a heart. Nothing is hidden from the heavens.”

  Nephis blew gently onto the wet debris, and from it plumed a great cloud of ichorous, black smoke. It hit the boys and wolf like a wave. So thick was it that no one could see within it. Kugo and Moss felt as if they had been plunged into night, but the monk knew what he must do. While the wolf lashed around, terribly confused, he gripped his silver blade and felt with his hand where the creature’s neck lay. In one mighty blow, he plunged his sword up and through its throat. The monster hacked and lashed, but soon it fell to the ground, twitching, and finally died. Nephis ran, stopped blowing, and began to heave and hack for air. The smoke faded away quickly, as if it had never been there at all.

  Kugo looked down upon the creature, so far from its home. Perhaps it had been a noble beast once, but no longer. The few villagers who still stood around waited in silence. And then, as Nephis stood up, they shouted.

  “Let us be, witch!” one cried, “We’ve heard you’ve come, and I won’t stand for it, doing unnatural things in our home!”

  “I’ll bet they brought in the monsters!” Another sneered. “I’ve never seen anything like them, or that wooden monster. Foul creature gone wrong!”

  “They scratched me! They sent me away to elfen land,” the villager cried, “It was horrible and dark! I was alone!”

  Nephis stumbled for words, nearly having to pick her jaw off the floor. “What? No!” Nephis cried, “We saved you!”

  “Witches!” the crowd cried.

  “Leave us!” Another shouted.

  Nephis grew very red and angry, Kugo said nothing at all but was prepared to leave when, all of a sudden, an old woman came up to Nephis.

  The baker’s wife grabbed her by the arm and began to drag her away. Kugo and Moss followed. “Come now, child, away from the crowds.”

  She took them to the bakery and locked the doors behind them. The crowd's voices still carried through the doors, but for now, they were hidden. “Forgive them,” the baker’s wife said, “And forgive me. I was unkind to you, and you saved us. Even more, your friends saved my granddaughter.”

  Nephis sniffled, the fright of the moment leaving her through her eyes. “You are forgiven.”

  “And thank you, as well,” she addressed Moss and Kugo. “I can tell you are good boys.”

  “I am,” said Moss proudly.

  “Oh, erm, thank you,” answered Kugo.

  “I must ask, were those your beasts?” she asked with a tense voice.

  “No!” Nephis protested, “Why would I ever do a thing like that?”

  “Good, I will believe you. Now, you shall stay here for the evening. I will speak with my husband, and he will tell everyone that you are good, noble folk. A humble hedge-witch and hedge-knights, merely caught up in all this mess.”

  “Witch?” Nephis murmured.

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” Kugo answered.

  “Now it will be best for you all to leave in the early morning, I will make sure some bread is set aside for you all before sunrise. But there is little sense in irritating the neighbors,” she advised.

  “Oh no, we cannot do that!” Nephis exclaimed, “We still have business in the gorge!”

  “Nephis!” Kugo hissed, “Mind your manners!”

  “Did you not find what you were looking for?” the baker’s wife asked. “I owe my granddaughter, so come, you may stay with me as long as you are here. But be warned, the others might not feel the same. Keep out of sight and mind of them. And be quick about your learning!”

  “I will,” Nephis answered in a small voice.

  “Good! Now help yourself to what bread is left. There is no bedding here, but the oven is still warm. Rest easy, they will not dishonor my husband’s work, at least not tonight,” she said warmly. “Now I must be off. But if you need me, I am only next door.”

  And she left to the shouting of what crowd remained.

  “Letting them stay in the bakery! They’ll hex the bread!”

  “Bah! Bake your own then!”

  The three of them huddle around the oven. It was dry and warm and pleasant, if dusted with flour. As they chewed on some soft bread, Kugo began to think. “What do you make of those wolves?” he asked.

  “What of them?” Nephis replied.

  “They are not from here. Their home is far to the north, not far from where I lived, though I only ever heard of them,” he explained.

  “I suppose that is a far way to come,” Nephis answered.

  “Maybe they’re like us,” Moss happily mused.

  Kugo sat up a little straighter, a dark thought crossing his mind. “Perhaps they are. And perhaps the villagers were right as well.”

  “What do you mean?” Nephis asked.

  “I doubt they came this way on their own, far too many good lands to rest in on the way,” he said grimly. “But why sic them on the town?” he wondered. “Or perhaps they ate their master.”

  “Little good worrying about it now!” Nephis said. “I do not think I could fight a beetle now, without any rest,” she yawned. “That is a worry for tomorrow, or maybe ever again. Good night and good dreams.” And she bundled up her robe as a pillow, and the worries of the day bled away.

  “Wait, Nephis, this is no time to sleep!” Kugo said, “And what did you mean we haven’t done what we came to do? We have the glass, what else is there?” The glass! He thought and pulled it from his belt. He quickly wrapped it in a scrap of heavy leather so that he would not cut himself by mistake.

  “Treasure,” she mumbled, “There was treasure at the bottom of the palace. I want to dig it up. Rope.”

  “Rope?” he asked. “That’s not a treasure!”

  “Rope is very useful,” Moss commented.

  “Yes, it is,” Kugo exasperatedly agreed.

  “You can bind with it,” Moss said, “And you can climb with it.”

  “Nephis,” Kugo said again, but she only responded with soft breathing and murmurs.

  “Shh,” Moss hushed, “She’s sleeping.”

  Kugo slumped his shoulders and surrendered. “How can she sleep at a time like this?” he mourned.

  “You should sleep too, Kugo. I will keep watch,” Moss offered gently.

  “Alright,” Kugo grumbled and lay down. The oven was still warm, and its labors bled into his chest. And slowly he drifted to sleep, the struggles and worries of the day left for tomorrow.

  And the night was quiet, and they were dry and warm and safe.