5 Chapter IV, The Willow Wood

I was horrified.

I had almost been attacked by demonic wolves with ruby eyes, I had just met and befriended an assassin, and Arna could be dead at the hands (wings?) of wyverns.

And worst of all, I was running away.

Back on Earth, I wasn't one to run away from danger, if someone was being bullied, I would stand up for them. If someone was being treated unfairly, I would correct it. You get my point? My whole life, I tried to be helpful and kind, but ever since the last day of eleventh grade, well, everything has been turned upside down, sideways, and thrown across the room.

I left a note for Farvald, explaining my sudden disappearance. Then I crept around back and stole Twyla from the stables. (I mean, not really, she is my horse after all…)

And now, I am riding away from Caelora, alone, in the dead of night.

It was around ten in the morning when I stopped to rest. I had gotten almost no sleep, and I was incredibly tired.

I pulled out the map that Farvald had given me and studied it. It appeared that I was nestled in the hills North-West of Caelora, and West of the Shnerdelli river. Maybe ten miles away from the nearest road.

I sighed and laid down my pack under a singular elm tree, grabbing a small portion of the food in it, hoping that I would have enough to reach Thelnilin.

I glanced over at Twyla, who was grazing on the crest of the hill, and whistled for her.

The horse heard my call and galloped over gracefully, her long black mane flowing in the wind. "Hey girl," I whispered to the horse. "I'm going to rest for a bit, don't go far." Twyla blinked twice as if she understood, and continued to graze.

I laid down on the long grass, and my stomach rumbled. Oh what I would do for some waffles… I thought to myself as I drifted off to sleep.

My dreams were incoherent and perplexing, mixed images and emotions of fire and anger, sadness and death, the clashing of swords and the hatred of demons, war and strife, anything but peace.

I didn't sleep for very long, maybe an hour or so, before I decided that I couldn't take the depressing nightmares (daymares?) of death and destruction.

I called Twyla over from her spot on the crest of the hill, and jumped into the saddle. "Okay girl, we're gonna keep going; stay off the roads."

The horse nickered and started into a gallop through the hills.

We rode over and around the hills along the banks of the Shnerdelli river, not stopping until well past nightfall, when only the moon shed light on the shimmering flowing waters of the Shnerdelli.

This continued for about a week; ride from noon to midnight, sleep for a few hours, before continuing on for another three hours, and laying low until noon. All while the sun beat down on my back, searing my arms and the tips of my ears.

On the eighth day after departing from Caelora, I had finally spotted the entrance to the Willow Wood.

Dark willows and ancient oaks loomed anywhere from ten to fifteen meters over my head. As I entered the forest, the temperature dropped, like, ten degrees with the absence of the morning sun on my back.

I was filled with renewed vigor at the absence of the burning sun against my bare arms and face. I felt alive, not sluggish like before.

I jumped from Twyla's saddle and led her through the forest by the reins, walking cautiously on the jumbled stone and dirt road to avoid any broken ankles via rock.

The Willow wood was cool and quiet, I could only hear the sounds of birds chirping and the occasional rustle of leaves followed by the sight of majestic deer with gold and silver antlers.

The pathways seemed almost deserted, like they were once walked upon frequently, but as the years aged on, the beings of the forest more seldomly took these paths, and the once polished stone and columns had fallen into ruin, draping vines and moss covering them.

Sometimes I could make out an ancient statue hidden among the trees and vines, a maiden long dead with a dress of cascading lichen, a lone elk with a crown of flowering vines, even an elf with flowing robes of moss covered stone.

As I continued along the mossy stone path, the statues grew ever more destroyed and hidden by the dense vegetation on the forest floor. It was quite sad, seeing the once works of art now crumbling to overgrown dust on a path long forgotten.

Speaking of paths, I was honestly debating whether to take Arna and Quinlin's advice and stay off the roads, or stick to the path. In the end, as you may have guessed, I decided against straying off the path, for I figured that the Willow Wood was more dangerous than it seemed.

That night, I didn't stop at midnight like usual, instead, I kept leaped onto Twlya and rode through the forest, alert for the sound of anything that could potentially murder me.

A few times, I thought I heard a wolf howling in the distance, and was brutally reminded of the wolves that ambushed me and Arna in Caelora.

The large oaks and willows swayed to the beat of the wind, almost like waltzing to the melody of an ancient elven ballad. This concerned me, as there was no wind as far as I could tell, although it was much colder than usual, so I donned my forest cloak and continued on.

Even despite the cold that bit at my fingertips and face, I refrained from lighting a fire, for I had heard and seen glimpses of wolves and bears. I had no interest in fighting wild animals, or being eaten alive.

An hour later, it had started to rain, and I was soaked down to my toes within minutes. Brilliant. Bloody brilliant.

Only when the sun finally peaked over the lush green leaves of the trees, did I stop. Yes, I was falling asleep in the saddle, but other than that, my legs ached, I was hungry, cold, and downright miserable, as the rain hadn't subsided until an hour before sunrise.

I tied Twyla to a nearby oak tree - which would take three men to wrap their arms around the trunk - and sat down next to a small bridge with a little brook trickling underneath between water-smoothed stones and pebbles.

I looked in my bag, and was dismayed to find that the food I had left would barely get me through the Willow Wood, much less to Thelnilin, even if I cut my rations by a quarter.

I sighed and took a ruby red apple from the bag, wiping it on my shirt and taking a small bite out of it.

The apple tasted really sweet. If I weren't in a different dimension-multiverse-time warp-thing, I would've immediately assumed it to be honeycrisp, gala or red delicious, but unfortunately, I couldn't even tell you what type of flower was to the right of me.

This flower had seven, multicolored petals, the rims of which were blood red, then the sweet orange of a ripe clementine, yellow like the eye of a daisy, and at the center lay a deep blue, like the color of which you would find in the sky after the sun has set. It almost looked like a living fire, the hottest flames in the center.

It was a beautiful flower, there was no doubt about it, but there was a fascination that grabbed hold of me, like the feeling you get when you start a book, and the first fight scene happens, or when you see something unexpected, like a hawk diving at a smaller bird. It was the same concept, this stunningly pretty flower caught me so unawares, I couldn't help but be fascinated by it.

I reached out and touched its petals, which were soft to the touch, the morning dew still clinging the leaves and stem.

I took my hand away and gazed at it some more. What a beautiful thing in a world with so much dark and danger.

And so I kept walking with newfound respect for all the flowers, vines, trees and plants. Admiring all of the life around me.

I began to see whole statues again as the road began to climb up and down small hills. I wondered who kept the path, for it had no lichen or vines growing along the railings of bridges, or moss creeping down statues' backs.

Eventually, I trusted the cobbled paths enough to ride Twyla without too much fear of her breaking an ankle. (Partially because I don't want to deal with a lame horse, partially because I have no idea how far it is to the nearest form of civilization that would fix a horse's foot.) Despite having to bear my weight again, Twyla trotted along cheerfully, occasionally receiving an apple from me, which kept her in high spirits.

As we rode, I listened to the sound of small waterfalls, nestled in the hills. I listened to the birds singing their cheery melodies and tunes, sometimes whistling or humming along with them. I listened to the squirrels and other creatures jump from tree to tree, chittering away. I listened to the rustling of the leaves as they danced below the sun, waltzing and swaying in the breeze. I listened to the wind weaving its way through the branches of the trees and the canopy of the leaves. I listened, and I stayed silent, knowing that any noise I could make, any song I could sing, would never compete with the beautiful sounds of the forest.

I stopped early that day, tired as hell. Not sleeping takes a tremendous toll, even for someone who never got more than eight hours of sleep since the age of six due to her love of books.

I risked a small fire, using the flint that Kirsa had packed 'round three weeks ago, which seems like forever in an unfamiliar place.

After the fire was lit and crackling merrily, I sat against a nearby willow and pulled my green cloak around me, dwelling in my thoughts.

All was calm, I observed; Twyla was munching on an apple that I had thrown to her, a family of black rabbits were huddled under a patch of ferns, There was no wind to rattle the leafy branches or disturb the upwards rising smoke from the fire.

With the calm of the night surrounding me, I drifted off to sleep.

I was awoken by the shuffling of feet and the clip-clopping of hooves, and was vaguely reminded of Thaelin's filthy stable, minus the smell, that is.

I'm not an idiot, so I didn't open my eyes, in case the people were foes rather than friends.

"...start the fire Lothiaire!" said a male voice.

"Quiet! The girl will wake!" Hissed a female.

The same male voice scoffed and said, "The girl won't wake anytime soon, humans are weak to elven devices. You of all people should know that, Letta."

The female, who I assumed to be Letta, snarled and kicked the male, who let out a cry of pain.

Another male voice spoke, lower than the other two. "Stop squabbling, you know the law, humans aren't allowed in the…" He spoke a word that I couldn't quite understand, probably in a different language.

"We know the law, Lothiaire, we just want to get a few pieces of gold for her." Said the first male voice.

The wind started blowing, and the rustling of the branches made it hard to hear the start of Lothiaire's sentence. "...to the gates, until the lady says she can go."

Letta gasped "you haven't even told Avis yet?"

"Are you dumb? Of course I didn't tell Avis. We need to know why she's here!" The first male said, as if explaining the obvious to a small child. "Besides, if we tell Avis, we can't sell her. I'll reckon that she'll fetch a pretty price if sold to the right buyers."

"Which buyers are you thinking?" Lothiaire asked the first guy.

"I don't know 'Aire, maybe that so-called noble who deals in whores and slaves for his mansion up in Eldlin."

"I ain't sellin' a girl that young to Eldlin, Andor." Letta scolded. "She doesn't look much over sixteen, she's still underage."

The first guy, who must be Andor, said: "You keep your mouth shut, Letta. You don't know a thing about the trade."

"And you do?"

"Yes, if you must know. Besides, if I didn't, why would I be here?"

Lothiaire chuckled "Well well, it looks like someone has finally confessed something worthwhile. How long have you been beddin' down with that chick in Cobble Barrow, eh?"

Andor spat. "Keep your filthy mouth shut. Everyone knows you're no better. You would sell all you owned to sleep with Thania for a few nights."

Lothiaire grunted, and a second later heard a fist collide with Andor.

"Ow. Fine, you win, just don't punch me there."

More wind rustled through the campsite, the embers from the fire spread out around the earthen ground.

I clenched my teeth as one burned my arm, trying not to wince to audibly

"...and so, the fool says to me 'I'm not gonna-'"

"Quiet!" Lothiaire warned. "What was that?"

I heard the man get up and shuffle around the camp, probably searching for the squeak of pain I had uttered.

More wind and embers flew towards me, and I was burned several more times, and with it came several more winces and whimpers of pain.

"It's the girl, Lothiaire. She's awake." Whispered Letta so quietly, I could barely hear.

"That's impossible! Regular humans don't act this way with-"

"She's probably half elf or somethin', her father probably got drunk and hit on an elven chick in a tavern." Andor said liltingly.

"Ya better close your mouth Andor." Letta warned. "You're a bastard and you know it, don't go accusing other people of the same thing."

Lothiaire grunted. "Are we going to deal with the girl? Or do you have no interest in getting paid?"

One of the three, (probably one of the males) came over to where I was laying.

They shoved me onto my back, where I saw the three of them standing over me.

The girl, Letta, brushed a strand of dirty blonde hair from her face. "You're awake." She said simply. "How come? We gave you laefen root, you should've been knocked out for another five hours at least.

A man with brown hair and sharp, narrow eyes spoke. "You have never done an interrogation, have you Letta?" The voice that spoke was clearly the drawling, tilting tone of Andor.

Letta glared at him. "I'm just curious as to why she was invulnerable to the laefen root, that's all. She doesn't look elvish or dwarvish to me."

Lothiaire turned around and looked up at the sky through the trees, the firelight reflecting on his caramel skin. "We have only a few hours before the sun rises. We should move quickly."

"What do we do with the girl?" asked Letta nervously, also glancing up at the brightening sky.

"Knock her out again." Said Andor as if it was obvious.

"I don't have enough laefen-" Letta started to say.

"Screw that. Like this."

I saw Andor's leg move before pain raged through my head, and all went black.

I awoke on a concrete floor. Not the most welcoming of scenarios, but at least I wasn't naked with an old dude in a mansion.

Gotta look on the bright side, right?

The concrete floor was slightly damp, and even before I opened my eyes, I could tell that there was little to no light.

My conclusion? I was in a dungeon.

The thought of even considering being in a dungeon was overwhelming. I mean, how many people (alive) on earth could say that they have been locked in a dungeon? My guess: not many.

I slowly opened my eyes, expecting to see some horrifying sight, bones scattered on the floor, blood dripping from the ceiling, a corpse, that kinda thing.

What I didn't expect to see, was a concerned-looking young man looking at me through the iron bars that enclosed the next cell over.

"Hello." the young man whispered softly. "I'm glad you're awake, I was beginning to think that they beat you dead." His voice was kind, and not very deep like how I had expected.

I propped myself up with my right arm, my left one being too bruised to move more than a few inches, much less hold my weight.

"How long have you been staring at me?" I asked, trying my best to sound affronted.

The young man looked abashed. "Not that long, I mean…" He trailed off, blushing so red, I could see it from the light of the night sky flooding in through a barred window.

"I'm messing with you, nobody could see anything too unpleasant in this light." I laughed. "Anyway, who are you? How long have I been here? Where are we? Why am I here? And is this a dungeon?"

A cloud revealed the moon, and for a fleeting moment, a shred of light fell on his face. He was very handsome, so I noticed, though I would say that I was a bit too frightened to care. He had dark hair that I couldn't see very well, for another cloud had passed over the moon, despite the occasional shreds of starlight.

"Well, for one thing I know for certain, I am Arius, pri-" he stopped short before I could catch the rest of his sentence, and blushed profusely.

"Nice to meet you then, Arius. I'm Alexandra." I gave my best foolishly charming smile. "At your service." I added as an afterthought, I felt like it was formal enough…?

Arius smiled "At yours and your family's." He said. "Anyway, did you want me to try and answer some of your questions?"

"Oh, yeah, if you can, that is." I muttered, stumbling over my words.

Arius laughed lightly. "So, as far as I can tell, we're in the Willow Wood, quite far from the border, maybe ten leagues at most. You've been here for a few days, no less than two, no more than four, maybe five. With the knowledge that I have collected, we are on the third level of a prison that goes both up and down, the locks are relatively weak, though I can't seem to pick them. The prison was elvish, but is mainly used by humans, they think that the iron repels witches and sorcerers." Arius rolled his eyes and took a deep breath, for he was talking exceedingly fast. "Does that answer the majority of your questions?"

"Yes, thank you." I smiled at Arius, who flushed scarlet again. "Thouest have my deepest gratitude, may the stars guide you." I said in my best Shakespearean voice, reciting a formal phrase that Farvald had taught me on the way to Caelora. And of course, bowing slightly for extra effect.

Arius laughed, his eyes twinkling ever so slightly. "You certainly know your formalities, Lady Alexandra. I am afraid to say that not many women around my city have charm and knowledge of our formalities, they're mostly either noble brats, thoughtless girls in dresses, or sniveling-" Arius blushed again. "Sorry," he muttered shamefully "I meant no offence or anything…"

"It's quite alright, where I come from, a lot of people at my school don't think much of women either, although occasionally, there are a few diamonds hidden in the stone that people think of as my gender. Although, none of them are noble brats, as far as I know of."

"You're a scholar then?" Arius asked in wonder, completely ignoring my afterthought comment.

"Not really, but I can read and write, I know a bit of geography, some latin, advanced arithmetic and other mathematics, quite a bit of my world's history, and I can play piano and a bit of flute." I said matter of factly.

"Your parents must be very wealthy, I only know a few people, including myself, who are just as near educated as yourself." marveled Arius.

I laughed. "Where I come from, a place called America, quite a lot of people, men and women alike, are educated like me."

Arius stared at me, mouth gaping behind the iron bars.

I snorted very unlady-like at his expression.

"What?" he asked indignantly, clearly affronted.

I shook my head, giggling. "Your face looks quite contorted when your mouth is agape like that." I said "It makes you look like a fish."

Arius laughed. "I do not resemble a slimy, aquatic creature."

"When you make that face, you do."

"I do not."

"You do too."

In a few hours, the sun rose, and anyone who looked upon us would've thought that we had been friends for years, or at least cousins of some sort.

I could finally see Arius in the half-light now, and I was pleasantly surprised with what I saw.

His hair was a bit like mine, though more dark chestnut than my auburn color. If we were standing, verses cornered in tiny cells, Arius would be about four or five inches taller than me, around an even six feet.

The most stunning thing of all: his eyes. If you have never seen the ocean, you won't know what I'm talking about. If you have never been on a plane at twilight, you won't know what I'm talking about. If you have never seen the lightning that shoots out of Emperor Palpatine's hands in Star Wars, you won't know what I'm talking about. But maybe you can imagine, however futile it may be. Arius had the most stunning eyes that I had ever seen. Depending on his mood, his eyes changed color. Their normal resting color was a straight blue, like that of a cornflower. If we were laughing over something stupid, his eyes would be an electric blue. If he was feeling worried or depressed, they would turn a dull, blue-gray. Like that of the sky on a sunless day. If he was mad, they would turn a stormy, twilight blue. And when he was blushing at something one of us said, his eyes would turn ocean blue. That was my favorite.

I would never intentionally make someone uncomfortable, but to see his ocean eyes, I would do a lot of things.

And this is how I met Arius. We would talk about our homes, although Arius didn't mention his family much; we talked about the various books that we had read; we told each other stories from our childhood (Arius laughed profusely at the story of the time I convinced my step brother to shove noodles up his nose.) We had decided that if we ever got out of here, we would make our way to the lost city of Thelnilin and seek refuge with the elves, although I didn't tell him the full truth about why I wanted to go.

Overall, we made life less miserable in the "dungeon, not dungeon."

We eventually fell into a routine: wake up; wait for the guards to bring us our meal; turn away (blushing) while the other one takes care of their, ah, needs in the chamber pot they provided us; talk and somehow entertain ourselves while we wait for dinner; and lastly, try to fall asleep, and though I don't like to say it, occasionally holding hands through the iron bars that separated us.

What can I say?! It was quite depressing down there.

Sometimes, at night, I would wake up to the howling of wolves or the screams of tortured souls being killed downstairs. When this happened, I would lay on my back in a cold sweat for what felt like hours. In that time, I would watch Arius sleep, not in a stalkerish way, but just to calm myself down, trying to follow the regular pattern of his breathing.

I began to wonder what Arius thought of me, and I also wondered what I thought of him.

After two or three weeks, we grew tired of sitting on our arse. It was high time we broke out of this hell hole.

We also learned the rotations of the guards from an old man who was moved from downstairs. He also told us that most of the weapons were kept four floors below us.

The old man was executed the next day.

We collected dropped items from the passing guards, saved extra food from the small rations they gave us, but most importantly, we waited for the best time to strike

After three long days of waiting, the perfect opportunity arose.

You see, the seasons in Astralla aren't too unlike the seasons on earth, but they aren't called spring, summer, autumn, winter, either.

In what the Astrallic people call laenfell (spring), the country is battered with rainstorms and high waves and tide. Sailors have mixed feelings about this season because of the constant water pouring on their ships while they are already in the water.

In aestähs (summer), the sun doesn't shine down on your back nearly as much as it does on earth, although it is fairly humid at all parts of the day and night. The coming of aestähs brings raging thunderstorms that can go on for days without rest.

Flilä, what we know as fall, is fairly similar to aestähs, though minus the storms. It is also quite like autumn in our sense, the leaves change to purples, reds, oranges and yellows, (In everywhere but the Willow Wood. Arius claims that elven magic prevents the leaves from turning.) but the trees don't shed their leaves.

Lastly, eirall: winter. In flilä, the Astrallic people do not harvest, instead, they harvest in eirall. After the harvest, snow falls almost everywhere but the desert and the isle where the elven city of Lunalin sits. The snow will eventually give way to rain, and laenfell comes again.

I learned this from Arius, and I have learned to trust most of his judgement. At least he has lived here his whole life.

So, why bother saying all that? Because it was aestähs, and that meant storms.