Journey To The Forest Page 2

  Cyrus veered off the path and into the grass, padding down the stalks to set down the pallet from his back. He placed his belt and sheath along with his sword beside it and the jar. His faerie had become restless, its wings fluttering constantly against the side of the glass.

  “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to let you out,” Cyrus muttered, sitting cross-legged on his pallet.

  He remembered the merchant’s warning, but Faeries were supposed to be loyal.

  After being cooped up in a jar for a long time, who wouldn’t want to get out?

  He began to twist the lid.

  The faerie flashed in excitement.

  “Okay faerie, just stretch out your legs and—“

  Hardly a moment after the lid had been loosened, the faerie burst out of the jar and shot like a shooting star past the horizon and disappearing in the sea of swaying grass.

  Cyrus couldn’t believe it. It took him a while to get his gaping jaw working again.

  “Wait!” he shouted in the direction where the faerie had escaped to.

  He scrambled to his feet, heart thumping. It was just his luck to have lost it this early in his journey.

  Snatching up his sword, he struggled through the grass in the light’s disappearing direction. The sharp-bladed grass cut his exposed hands as he ran clumsily. Small briars caught on his leggings and cotton tunic. The moon was covered by wisps of clouds, making it more and more difficult to see.

  Hours passed to no avail.

  Exhausted and covered in scratches, Cyrus found his way back to his pallet.

  Chapter Two

  The Journey

  DAWN BROKE OVER the sea of grass. He decided to wait just a little longer.

  Perhaps his faerie only got overexcited and flew a little further away than it had intended.

  He kept a sharp eye out for any movement but soon, his eyelids were unbearably heavy and he had to prop his chin on the blade of his sword to keep from dozing off.

  At high noon he was still awake, albeit barely.

  He was a naïve young man whose thoughts never considered the possibility that his faerie would never return.

  There had never been a story about a Hero who had lost his companion.

  His stomach groaned for attention, but still he waited.

  There was a sharp scream of a bird in the distance.

  Cyrus’s head shot up.

  His heart leapt when he saw a white flash racing towards him but just as quickly dropped when he saw it wasn’t his faerie that had made the noise.

  Behind his frantic companion was a tawny falcon, barreling in at a ridiculous speed.

  Cyrus whipped his sword into the air.

  The faerie whizzed into his tunic.

  The falcon screeched and crashed into the blunt end of the sword and Cyrus fell back from the impact.

  The falcon squawked at him after falling in a daze to the ground, then took off shakily in the opposite direction.

  When he was sure that the falcon had gone, Cyrus peeked into the collar of his tunic and saw the interior lit up by the faerie huddled on his stomach. He beamed.

  “The bird is gone,” he coaxed. “You can come out now if you promise not to fly away again.”

  The faerie let out its strange little cry but fluttered out of the dark blue fabric and onto Cyrus’s shoulder. It would not look at him and instead pulled up its knees and rested its chin on them.

  Cyrus didn’t care.

  At least now his faerie wouldn’t go wandering off.

  A small heat emanated from the faerie, making his shoulder and the side of his face warm.

  He thought it comforting.

  The smile didn’t leave his face the entire way to the nearest city.

  * * *

  THE CITY of Jacen was smaller than Kinswick. There were no impassable crowds to bustle through. There were no stalls of magical tools or companions. There was a baker shouting out sales to disinterested people and sour-faced residents in a hurry to get somewhere—anywhere but here.

  Cyrus glanced around.

  Now that his faerie had returned he thought it was as good a time as any to find food.

  He walked towards the baker and the heavenly, crisp smell of fresh-baked delights. The baker promptly turned the other direction with a sneer.

  “Sir? I only want to buy some bread.”

  Without a word the huffy old man shuffled into his shop, leaving Cyrus standing in the cobbled street confused.

  “Can I help you?”

  A young woman about Cyrus’s age appeared behind the Hero, catching him off-guard. He jumped and twisted, almost knocking his Faerie off of his shoulder in the process. He blinked a few times and a lump grew in his throat, growing so horribly big that it was impossible to even croak a word, especially

  The woman was petite with curling dark brown hair. She wore simple clothes of dyed green cotton, the norm for people in the impoverished city of Jacen. They fit snugly around her waist and hips. A large, loose collar encircled a narrow neck. She wore a single dangling, silver earring in her left ear. As she stared at him, Cyrus saw that her eyes were a deep green like her dress.

  He shook his head, causing his black hair to fall over his eyes.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, cocking her head to see under his bangs. “This city isn’t too friendly with outsiders ever since the famines started. I’m sure you could use someone to help you out.”

  He backed up, tripping over his own feet. His heel caught and he tumbled backwards onto his rear. His faerie flew off, chirping at him while hovering a good two feet above his sprawled form.

  But it was the girl... he wished he could melt like water and disappear on the ground as she giggled. Instead, Cyrus flushed a bright scarlet.

  He scrambled back to his feet, quickly adjusting his belt and sheath before briefly bowing and running in the opposite direction. The faerie flew after him, chirping in annoyance. It caught up once Cyrus entered a small shop of dried meats and preserves.

  The shopkeeper scowled as he picked out foods for the journey. Cyrus kept his head low and placed the items on the shop counter. He slipped some jewels out from his sleeve and started to gather the meat into leather pouches from his pack. The shopkeeper glared at the jewels but snatched them up and put them into his pocket.

  “Now, go,” he growled. “You have no more business here.”

  Tying the full bags to the side of his pack, Cyrus obeyed without a word. He exited the shop and glanced in the direction of the girl. On a hunch, he decided to go the long way around to avoid her altogether. The faerie pulled at his ear towards the shorter route as if to question why he was making a hassle.

  When he ignored it, it sat on his shoulder again, shaking its little head and pouted.

  Chapter Three

  The Rescue

  AS SOON AS the city receded from view, Cyrus finally began to speak again.

  And speak he did.

  If the faerie had pupils, Cyrus could have been able to tell that its eyes were rolling.

  “—and it’s not that I know why. It just happens. I can’t talk to girls. I’ve never been able to. Maybe it was because of my mother; she always told me that girls only caused trouble. Turned out she’d rather send me to the Forest than have me married off.”

  The faerie was slumped on its stomach, staring vacantly into the distance. It had been at least two hours since Cyrus started on his rant and explanations of why exactly he was completely useless in front of women, among other things.

  “Now I’m old enough to know better. I think twenty’s a good age to start settling down and I want to get to know women but I can’t seem to talk to them. Or look at them. Or be near them…” He was making wild gestures with his hand and threw them down in a huff. “I’m pretty pathetic, aren’t I?”

  The faerie chirped and didn’t bother looking up. It was enough to tell him the little thing thought it too pathetic to merit attention.

  Cyrus sighed and noticed his steps were b
ecoming more slow. He was tired. He remembered that he hadn’t slept at all the previous night. He didn’t like to lose daylight so he kept moving north while he could still see in front of him.

  He walked to the point of exhaustion.

  When the sun did begin to set, he found a hill right next to the path where a small river wound nearby through the countryside below. He took only enough time to throw down his pack at the base of the only tree on the hill and collapse in a heap, using the lumpy bag as a pillow.

  He pulled his faerie in towards his chest. The night breeze was a little chilly. He knew he didn’t want any predators coming after his companion again. The faerie’s glow gave off enough of a beacon for the night’s hunters. The faerie struggled at first but gave in to the soft embrace, realizing it, too, was tired. Its wings fluttered before it stilled, drifting into a peaceful slumber with a contented sigh.

  * * *

  CYRUS WAS asleep when suddenly, a sharp pain exploded behind his eyes.

  He fumbled for his sword, momentarily blinded.

  There were some shouts and a yell from the faerie.

  When the black dots in his vision ebbed well enough for him to see again, Cyrus saw that he was surrounded by three men, the largest one holding a large war-hammer, the two others wielding daggers.

  One of the dagger-holders was struggling with a leather pouch.

  The pouch glowed with the familiar purples of Cyrus’s Soulyte. They had his faerie.

  The largest of the trio swung out his hammer, narrowing missing Cyrus’s head as the Hero dodged. The one with the pouch turned and ran down the hill to the bank of the river.

  Cyrus pursued him in a panic. He couldn’t lose his faerie. Not again.

  His large foe was slow and unable to move very quickly. But the smaller man that was covered from head to toe in dark clothes made up for that. Lithe and swift, he quickly overtook Cyrus and tackled him to the soft earth, sending them both tumbling to the bank of the rushing waters.

  A sharp crack told Cyrus that his assailant hit his head hard on a rock, so he wriggled free of the other man’s grip, frantically running after the one holding the pouch. The thief was about halfway across the river, hopping cautiously from stone to stone. Cyrus sped in his direction, disregarding all safety as he sprinted across the slick stones.

  Almost three feet from his shocked foe, Cyrus’s foot caught on a loose stone. He plummeted forward, snagging the assailant’s legging and pulling him into the freezing current. As they both struggled, the thief had dropped the pouch. It was drifting swiftly downriver!

  His first thought was t catch it, of course. He reached for it, flailing frantically in the water to catch the drawstring. Then he managed to grab hold of it with his teeth and bit at it, trying to tear open the sodden leather with his teeth before his fairie drowned.

  The drawstring loosened and the faerie flew out like a comet.

  And that was when he remembered the little fact that he couldn’t swim. He had stayed afloat only because the swiftly-moving current kept knocking him against the stones and boulders that littered the river. To his horror that they were growing fewer and farther between the longer downriver he drifted.

  And his head began to be pulled under by the current that he could no longer see where the thieves were.

  His eyes refused to stay open in the sting of the freezing water. And his lungs burned but he still kept trying to take in breaths.

  Arms flailing miserably, he finally was thrown close enough to the bank to grab hold of a bush. He had enough strength to pull himself up. Just a little while in the cold and he was exhausted beyond belief! It took all of his strength to pull himself out of the water.

  He knew his faerie was there, flitting to and fro, chirping frantically in its strange little voice. He could hear it everytime. But his thought was that he had nearly drowned. As his exhaustion overwhelmed him, he thought that he could have died before he could prove to himself that he could be a brave hero... as he had dreamed all his life...

  But the next moment, something happened. It was a just a second. He was suddenly lying in soft grass, and he wheezing the icy water from his lungs. When he finished, he felt like his whole body was aching like he'd never hurt before. His tunic, undershirt, vest, leggings, and boots were soaked all the way through and he was shivering violently in the breeze, while his faerie perched on his chest, gazing at him with what he was sure of as concern.

  It took him a few minutes to remember what had happened.

  He had been transported. And it was because of the fairie.

  That's why Heroes had companions, wasn’t it? They were there to assist us with magic.

  Weakly, Cyrus reached up a hand and patted his faerie on the head as gently as he could. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispered.

  He closed his eyes, forgetting all about the bandits, desperate for sleep.

  Chapter Four

  A Boy and a Girl

  CYRUS FELT WARMTH on his lips as soon as his eyes were shut. It was also soft. But it wasn't cloth. It wasn't just skin. It felt like...

  His eyes shot open and he saw his faerie kneeling down, kissing him sweetly in a short peck. And then the next thing he knew, it was not a faerie sitting on him. But, rather, a young woman.

  A young, naked woman.

  She seemed as shocked as Cyrus was, but with the happy kid of shocked instead of just being stone-shocked . She quickly jumped off with a shriek that turned into a laugh as she clapped her hands.

  “The spell is broken!” she squealed. “Ah! Finally! I’ve been a stupid faerie for months!”

  She crawled back over to Cyrus who had almost passed out from then if he wasn't so dumbstruck. She's a she. It's a woman. A young woman... a butt-naked woman who was just within arms’ reach, who was right now wrapping her naked arms around his neck.

  “Thank you, Cyrus! If I had known it would just take a kiss… I…”

  Cyrus looked at her while his head spun. The other words just passed and he wasn't hearing them, so shocked was he. She was small and probably younger than he. Her hair was long and thick and the color of moonlight, almost glowing, silver in the night air.

  If it weren’t for the fact that it was covering her nudity, Cyrus might have died at that very moment.

  “I… but… you…” He tried to speak and it was admittedly the most he had ever said to a woman not from his immediate family.

  “My name is Magdeline. I was cursed by an old witch. I was trapped and sold to that market. Not one had a Soulyte even similar to mine, so I was never released. When I saw you… well, that changed everything. I had the chance to be free again and find that old hag. But when that bird attacked me…I decided to just stay with you. Despite your naivety and stupidity, you’re a pretty nice guy. You're pretty to the eyes, too. Now, if you can RTHJ”

  “You’re a… woman….”

  And it was then that Cyrus finally fainted.

  Magdeline rolled her amethyst eyes, but managed a smile at the absurdity of it all.

  “You know,” she whispered, “when the Hero kisses the damsel, it’s supposed to be happily ever after.”

  * * *

  CYRUS WOKE WITH his head ringing and his chest burning. His entire body was sore and he could still feel water in his ears.

  His mind was foggy with pain and the confusion over what had happened the night before, so he did not remember at first why there was a woman nearby, drinking with cupped hands at the river where he had almost died. His first instinct was to grab his things and run, but when he glanced around he couldn’t see his pack or his sword.

  “Finally!” he heard the voice of the young woman say, a little husky and pleasant to the ears for reason he could not understand. His shoulders stiffened and his pulse raced. “I was waiting hours for you to wake up.”

  The white-haired young woman shook her hands dry and placed them daintily on her lap, her legs tucked underneath her. He noticed that at least she was wearing clothes now.
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  But when he looked down at himself he saw that she was actually wearing his tunic. The dark blue made her pale skin almost glow. The tunic reached just above her knees and one sleeve sagged off of her left shoulder, since it was too big on her. She had braided a band of her hair at the top of her head but it did little to tame its thick waves.

  Cyrus tore his gaze away, blushing furiously at the fact that she had undressed him—no matter that he was still wearing an undershirt.

  He bowed and scrambled to his feet. Before he could dash away, the woman caught him by his collar and forced him to look down at her. She was at least a head shorter than him even when she stood on the tip of her toes. She was very petite, her hair cascading to her hips.

  She looked so beautiful that he felt breathless.

  She glared up at him and then sighed, bowing her head but not loosening her grip.

  “I know you want to run and hide,” she said, “but I need you to stay calm. If you’re a Hero, it’s your job to help out damsels, right? Because I could sure use some help right now.”

  Cyrus swallowed audibly. He had never been this close to anyone of the opposite gender—excluding his mother—and it made him woozy. She smelled incredibly good, but that thought only made his queasiness worse.

  “You remember me, right?” she asked. “Mag-de-line. You saved me last night before you fainted, remember?”

  You’re my faerie, Cyrus thought but couldn’t get the words to come out of his mouth. You’re my faerie and somehow you have turned into a woman. You’re a woman to whom I’ve told my entire life story.

  “I need you to take me to the closest city. Can you at least do that? You don’t even have to talk to me. Actually, I’d prefer if you didn’t. I pretty much know everything you have to say anyhow. So if I let you go will you promise not to run?”

  The man nodded stiffly.