Dust (Of Dust and Darkness) Page 9

  I awake in the middle of the night, startled. Something doesn’t feel right. Juniper’s body is still pressing into mine, her head resting upon my chest. I feel her forehead – still warm to the touch. I gasp and hold my breath the moment I suspect, my heart speeding along as if I just flew ten miles in fear.

  Juniper’s body no longer rises with each breath. Her neck no longer pulsates. A strange noise escapes my throat: a mixture of moaning, crying and screeching. In what feels like the longest gasp in my life, my lungs forget how to exhale. Fluid builds behind my eyes and stings as it tries to seep through.

  I scream. Really scream. But it comes out raspy and rough, and in bursts since my chest is spasming at the same time. I don’t care who hears me, or if the spriggans come for me. I just don’t care. She was such a sweetheart. She loved and cared for me when no one else did. She genuinely worried for my safety. And she had this way of simply touching my arm or rubbing my head and making me feel like everything was going to be okay. She had the power to make me believe I could get through this. That I was strong.

  That I was loved.

  And now she’s gone. The one good thing in my life right now is gone.

  I don’t know when Willow appeared beside me, but now she sits beside us on her knees, her body convulsing as much as mine. I roll Juniper’s body softly to the ground and join her hands across her stomach. We each take up a respective side to mourn, lying our heads on her shoulders. I gently caress Juniper’s hand and Willow surprises me by joining hers with mine. They’re cool and shaky, her skin rough and scratchy like mine. I guess I never realized how close Willow was to Juniper as well. I knew they conversed and that Willow was expected to take over, but I guess I never really thought their relationship went beyond that. Maybe Willow saw Juniper as a motherly presence too.

  We huddle together until the tears run dry and our bodies calm.

  Finally Willow rises. It kills her to say what we both know must be done. “Help me move her to the edge?”

  I nod and slowly rise to my feet. I feel utterly exhausted, both physically and emotionally, but I find the strength to lift Juniper and carry her to the edge of the pit. To the spot I’ve slept in every night but this one. To the spot where I watched in horror as a pixie took her own life. Now to be the spot where I say goodbye to a pixie that I barely knew but loved with all my heart nonetheless.

  We lay her gently before the edge and kneel down to say our private goodbyes. Somehow my body produces more tears and they begin pouring again. I wipe my nose and sweep the tears off my cheeks and eyes so I can see Juniper clearly. I ask Willow to lift her shoulders off the ground and she does so without contesting or questioning. I unwrap her bun and let her long brown hair with silvery streaks flow free over her shoulders. Free like Juniper’s soul now. Free to fly. Free to be. Free to play with Mimosa again. For the first time ever her stress lines have softened, her skin no longer taut with frustration and worry. I’m finally beginning to believe this was the face of a pixie in her thirties, and not the decrepit, malnourished version I saw wasting away these past many weeks.

  “Normally we would take the clothing off the pixie at this point. Add it to the scrap pile.” Willow looks to her mangled two-piece, then to Juniper’s one-piece made of multiple scraps of decent material. We still have some scraps that can be used for whoever needs them. I just used some during the night to cool Juniper’s skin with. Lot of good that did. And most of these pixies are so out of it they wouldn’t realize they were indecent at all if we didn’t keep an eye on their clothing for them. I can tell Willow’s having a hard time debating what to do about Juniper’s scraps.

  “I know we need the material and I know Juniper would want us to do what’s best for those still alive, but I’d rather walk naked than strip her of what dignity she has left,” she says.

  I look to my own two-piece. Upon seeing the so-called clothing around my fellow prisoners, I’d been very careful not to snag the material wrapped around me. But try as I have, the material is still thinning. Soon I’ll need to dip into the scraps myself, so I understand the urge she feels to collect Juniper’s clothing. It’s no longer of use to her and makes a world of difference to us. But still, she was our mother and I feel it disrespectful as well.

  “Why don’t we just take from the middle then? Turn her one-piece into a two-piece. We’ll get a few pieces and keep her clothed at the same time.”

  Willow’s eyes light up and for the first time ever, looks to me with a smile on her face. You know, she’s actually very pretty when she smiles. “I like that idea. She was right to choose you as a leader.”

  I return the smile and try not to cry over her kind words. It’s something Juniper would have said to me. And it makes me realize for the first time that Willow was fit to be both controlling and caring.

  We quickly untie the knots around Juniper’s midsection. Luckily the one piece is skin-tight so its integrity doesn’t weaken when we remove the middle section. When we’re done we have enough material to settle our nerves.

  “Are you ready?” she asks wearily, unable to stop looking at the frail body before us. “We should do it before anyone else sees. They’ll realize she’s gone, but something about seeing the body being dropped off the cliff makes their condition worse. Traumatizes them even more.”

  I nod in agreement. Watching that pixie commit suicide certainly damaged me a little. That vision still haunts me when I close my eyes.

  We stand and gently lift Juniper into a sitting position and carefully nudge her legs over the edge. Below us is the river. I know she’ll fall directly into it. Just like that other pixie. I wonder where they go? Do they float wherever the current takes them? Or do they sink and the river keeps them right where they land? I shudder to think the latter and pray for the former. Juniper’s finally free again. I know her soul has left this place, but I want her body to do so too.

  “Goodbye, Juniper,” Willow whispers.

  “May Mother Nature take care of you as well as you took care of us,” I add.

  Without another word or a glance in either direction, we lift Juniper’s body over the edge. She slips easily in my hands. As much as I’ll miss her, I’m happy to know she’s out of here for good. No more hunger. No more heat exhaustion. No more slavery.

  Just a soul free to dance playfully in the wind with her best friend again.

  We watch as Juniper hits the water below us. Watching is all we can do; we’re too high to hear the splash. Please float away. Please. But I’ll never know if she did. Try as we do, we’re not close enough to see if something as small as a pixie bobs in the water. We can only hope.

  Needless to say, I couldn’t sleep after Juniper’s funeral. I kept worrying about my own mortality. I know I’ve only been here a little more than a month, but I’ve seen what this place can do to you. It wears on you physically and emotionally. Those that don’t learn to deal end up locked within their mind, completely numb and void of life. None of them deserve this life. To feel like the world has abandoned them.

  Why can’t our existence be like the stars? Happily twinkling and dancing in the night sky, bringing light and entertainment to all who see? The stars make everyone ponder unanswered questions, makes everyone smile. And no matter who you are, where you are or what you’ve done, they’re always there for you. No matter what.

  I envy those stars, and I watch them until the night fades, then replaced first by morning twilight, and finally, dawn. The indigo sky lightens and a few wispy cirrus clouds high in the sky begin to turn a pinkish orange.

  It’s when I’m studying the sky that I notice it. A ripple in the glamour. I’ve always known it was there; I feel it each time I pass through the magical layer. But something never occurred to me before. I jump to my feet and peek over the edge of the pit. A sense of revelation pulses through my body and my heart quickens at the thought. I extend my arm as far down the cliff as I can and feel the magical ripple against my fingertips, tingling my skin like when I pa
ss through the illusion covering our pit.

  What if?

  I rush to Willow’s part of the pit, where I see she’s still sleeping. All the pixies are up and about already, eating their share of breakfast. I guess Holly took the lead and left us to sleep. I’m sure it didn’t take her long to realize Juniper’s body was no longer with us. She tries to hand me a bowl of mash as I rush by, a sense of forlorn apparent on her features, but I disregard her completely on my way to Willow.

  “Willow!” I shake her a little harder than I probably should have, but I can’t help it. “Willow!”

  She stirs groggily but quickly jumps to her feet in panic. “What?” she bursts, her eyes darting in all directions with panic.

  “It’s all an illusion. Just a glamour.”

  “What?” she asks, a little annoyed since she’s still expecting some sort of danger to come at her.

  “Our surroundings. We’re not living in some desolate wasteland. Look out over the pit. Everywhere you look is lush greenery. Trees are filled with life. Birds, insects, wind! There’s a river just below us. Everything we see in this prison is just an illusion. They’ve glamoured everything we’re exposed to so we’ll think there’s no escaping this place. That trail we take every day? What if you go just far enough through the trees? Eventually you’ll pass right through the glamour like we do with the one covering our pit. There’s a lush forest surrounding us on all sides. I just know it!”

  My heart is racing a mile a minute. Willow seems to be processing what I tell her, her eyes darting side to side, expressing the calculations she was reading in her head. She slowly begins to nod her head in agreement. “Yeah, it’s possible.”

  “Willow, it’s more than possible. We know these spriggans don’t stay here at night. There’s no reason to since we can’t fly out of the pit to walk away anyway. There’s a world around us to hide in. All we have to do is run.”

  “Run? Rosalie, most of these pixies don’t even understand the concept anymore. Sure, we could probably walk them out of here during the night if we could find a way out of the pit, but run? Any pixie not lucid at this point will still be a prisoner by morning’s light. And we can’t just leave them here to fend for themselves. They’ll die.”

  She’s right. And I know it. That’s why my chest suddenly feels heavier. As much as I want to be free, I could never do it at their expense. “What if I just run? You stay here and keep the others alive. I’ll run and bring back help.”

  “Rosalie, think about what you’re saying. Every day we have like ten spriggans in the area. You’re one pixie. Who can’t fly. You’ll never make it during the day. I’m fine if you want to find a way to escape but you need to do it during the cover of night. If they catch you they’ll throw you back in the hole for an extended period of time. Do you know what happens to those pixies?”

  I shake my head.

  “Of course you don’t. Because the pixies that come back refuse to speak of it. And you’ve never met one of those pixies because every single one of them committed suicide shortly after being released.”

  Her eyes dart to the sky and mine soon follow. Spriggans are descending.

  “I know I can make it. I can. And if I don’t, I know I’m strong enough to survive the hole.” She’s shaking her head at me, more forcefully with each additional word that flows from my mouth. “Willow, it’s worth the risk.”

  Right then a spriggan attaches to my back and lifts me away. I see the concern on her face and I can read her silent words perfectly. Don’t. Don’t do it.

  But I’ve already made up my mind. I believe with all my heart the risk is worth it and I’m strong enough to deal with the unknown if my attempt fails.

  I’m the first pixie to fall in line and I keep my head down and my expression filled with defeat. I will not let on what I’m about to do. I will be a good, submissive pixie, numb and lifeless, my feet shuffling along the trail because I’m too tired to pick them up.

  But I’m not tired. And I’m not lifeless. Adrenaline surges through my bloodstream, bringing a newfound life to every part of my body. I sense excitement in what I’m about to do. I sense confidence. I can do this. I will break free. And I will return with help to free the rest.

  They will not keep my freedom.

  As I near the cave, I don’t take my place at one of the tables inside. Instead I veer my lazy body off to the side, picking up a basket, continuing to shuffle my feet along. The spriggan leading us now stands guard at the entrance. The others are still hovering around, watching the line. The moment I clear the corner of the cave I take off, dropping the basket so I can pump my arms for more speed. I don’t know if there’s anyone chasing me. I’m sure they are, but by foot or by air, I can’t hear them either way.

  I take a straight shot. I refuse to weave in and around the trees, knowing my best bet is to get to the forest as fast as possible to hide amongst the foliage. My legs are burning because I’m not used to doing anything but standing. My knees ache every time my foot pounds the ground and I feel my thigh muscles strain as I stretch to extend every stride to the max. I run and run and run, but all I see are dying trees and dried-out compacted dirt, the forest whipping past me in shades of the dullest tans and browns ever.

  Suddenly, there’s a tingling sensation dancing along the hairs on my skin. My heart leaps with joy as I recognize the ripple in the air and feel its magic closing in on me. The ripple is thicker than I expect and it slows my progress. I hear a cacophony of sounds blurring together, but they clear into the distinct sounds of nature the closer I get to the other side. I finally punch through the barrier and the magic releases the hold it has on my body. I gasp and come to a skidding stop. Not because I finally see a forest in all its beautiful glory of color, sounds and wildlife, or feel the cool relief of the wind upon my skin, but because I realize I’m standing at the edge of the spriggans’ campsite, sandwiched directly between two huts made of skinny sticks roped together and topped with straw thatches.

  Oh. My. Mother. Nature.

  There are several more huts in the area, with one designated as their eating area. A slab of rock holds a spread of luscious fruits and vegetables in multiple colors, and segregated piles of various seeds and nuts. Overgrown mushrooms, probably enlarged using pixie dust, shoot up around the rock, offering a comfy place to sit. I hear water rushing and bubbling over rocks nearby, and see a channel made of wood directing a small flow towards the food hut to create a communal watering hole.

  I’m half-tempted to run straight through just to grab what I can in food, but even though I don’t see anyone, I decide the best course of action is to sneak along the back side of the campsite until I’m clear. I creep along but I sense what lead I have ahead of my captors has dissipated. Before I can turn my neck to check, a sharp pain radiates outward from my crown. My vision fades and blurs, and wooziness overcomes my body.

  I groan as I come to in the darkness, the faint sound of water pounding into rock. There’s a cold, hard surface beneath me that unfortunately I recognize. Intense, sharp vibrations pulsate within my head and it feels like I’ve slept awkwardly on my neck for days. The moment I make it to a sitting position, my vision spins so violently I upchuck uncontrollably. Luckily for me there’s nothing in my stomach to actually come up, and I spare myself the nuisance of defiling what little space I have to move around in. The darkness is suffocating and pounds against my head. I have a pretty good idea of where I am, so I have no problem letting my body succumb to the darkness once more.

  Water attacks my skin, drowning every exposed inch, and my body bursts to life in terror. My eyes open to the dim light and I spot a spriggan swinging another pail of water my way. Unfortunately, I gasp in sync with his release and end up choking on water, leaving a burning sensation up my nose and down my throat.

  “Oh, good. You’re awake,” says a male voice sarcastically. I haven’t even seen him yet and I already know he’s an arrogant jerk. His voice is smooth though…nothing like the dee
p, husky sound of a spriggan.

  Still coughing my lungs clean, I sweep the water off my face and squeeze the excess from my eyes. It takes several blinks to nourish my moisture-stripped eyes with tears and for the blurriness to fade, but they still burn. My hands stay in the air before my face, unsure if another water attack is coming. I spot the spriggan with the pail and deduce he has no more pails to throw. Beside him is a faerie; the first I’ve seen since imprisoned.

  Just as I thought, he has an air about him that screams pretentious; too good to be with the likes of a pixie. His long blond hair is thin and has a slight wave to it, and his thin structure is curved with thick muscles. He’s a few inches taller than me and several shorter than the monstrous spriggan behind him. His wings are almost translucent in this light and are pulled downward behind his back. It’s too dark to determine eye color on his heart-shaped face, and it doesn’t help that he’s squinting them at me, clearly annoyed with me already. His clothes surprise me though. He almost appears to be wearing something similar to a dress. He has on the normal fitted cotton covering his legs, but his long white sleeve shirt is a bit poufy in the arms. Over that is a weird sleeveless, blue velvet coverlet that falls practically down to his knees, with a stitched white insignia on his chest I don’t recognize. If that isn’t bad enough, the feather of a peacock pokes out of a pocket over his heart.

  Such ridiculous clothing. Did he wear the thing willingly or did he lose a bet?

  Just the sight of him ticks me off. He being the only faerie I’ve seen since unlawfully imprisoned, a roar of fire builds within my chest and my limbs yearn to lash out and attack him with everything I’ve got. However, I’m not that stupid. My internal rage jumps leaps and bounds over what I know my body can physically do at this moment.