No Place Like Home, page 10
“You didn’t have to ask that for me. You said it yourself. We each got one question. You could’ve asked something you really wanted to know.”
“Who said I didn’t?”
“Please, you’re gonna tell me my family matters enough to you to spend your only question to an all-knowing being on it?”
“Maybe they do. You would’ve never stayed if you weren’t sure they were safe.”
Lan stared. Marlow tossed the bags at their feet and slid to the ground, his back pressed against the stalks. She lowered herself beside him. They sat facing the Weathering Woods, which appeared as a looming shadow in the distance. In the light of the waxing moon, Marlow’s eyes were dark. Lan couldn’t see the green in them that was clear in daylight. When he looked at her again, she held his gaze instead of staring down at her feet.
“Aren’t you curious about where you came from?” she whispered.
“When I was little, I was,” said Marlow, “but not anymore.”
“So what? You’re happy to follow Annabelle around forever?”
“Nothing in my life matters the way it does to you,” he said bluntly. An edge entered his voice for the first time. Lan waited.
“I know that my past is dead—unlike Annabelle’s, unlike yours,” he continued, his voice barely louder than a breath. “I don’t long for anything left behind.”
Lan hesitated. Then she answered, “Who cares what we long for, anyway? It’ll never go back to being the same for me, no matter where I live.”
Marlow paused. “Annabelle told me how you got separated from your home, too,” he said. “I doubt it’s gone for good, though. You’re still holding on so tight. But what do I know?”
His head was tilted toward her, his voice low. In the silence that hung between them, Lan wanted to tell him everything at once: how her parents had told her two weeks before their flight, the expression on her bà nội’s face when she found out, and the way her old classmates had piled on her in a giant group hug in the schoolyard. But her throat constricted, and no words came out. Instead, tears spilled hot and fast down her face.
“Hey, maybe I should’ve checked before asking,” Marlow said. He looked like he wanted to reach for her but stopped himself. “I’m sorry if you didn’t want to hear.”
“You asked the right question,” said Lan, sniffling. “I feel better knowing my dad isn’t worried sick about me missing...but...”
“But what?”
“Do you really think that I could help? That Annabelle wants me around? I mean, I can’t even build us a nice fire right now or make a hot bowl of noodles appear.”
“Both of those things would be great, I won’t lie,” said Marlow. “But it’s not like I wanted you to stick around for noodles. We’re gonna need your magic when we cross through the Weathering Woods. Annabelle knows that. You’ve helped so much already.”
“You keep saying that—”
“Because it’s true. Besides, don’t you want to see what you can do if you really put your mind to it? Especially in a place teeming with magic like Asta!”
“Yes, I do. You were right that I’d miss it. There’s so much more to learn.”
“So, you’ll stay?”
“Until the forest, at least. I don’t feel good leaving you two to walk in there alone. Why’s it called the Weathering Woods, anyway?”
“We didn’t learn much about it at the Academy, but apparently the forest is the oldest part of the country. The magic is different. I don’t know how exactly, but it’s less polished than Asta’s quick-to-use spells. The creatures and people that live there don’t follow the same traditions as those in the capital. The name’s what us outsiders call it.”
“Think there’ll be more tree guardians?”
“Nothing we can’t handle.”
He had turned back into his easygoing self, confident and unfazed. Lan stayed with a thousand thoughts racing through her head. They sat in silence. Without thinking, she leaned her head on Marlow’s shoulder and felt tension loosen its grip on her tired body. He wrapped his arm around her.
Leaves rustled in the night air. Slowly, their lull made her eyes grow heavy. Lan began to drift into sleep. She faintly heard Annabelle return at some point and felt her cozy up on Marlow’s other side. She must’ve said something funny, because Marlow laughed softly. It was the last thing Lan remembered before her dreams took over.
* * *
Lan was walking with her dad on a busy Toronto street. It looked like Roncesvalles, where they liked to browse the independent shops, occasionally even enjoy a scoop of the best ice cream in the city. Red streetcars ambled by. Pedestrians rushed to catch them. It was summertime. Lan wore jean shorts and a shirt her old friends had given her when she moved away last year. They turned into a shop with a colorful cartoon logo of a girl on a scooter.
The bell on the door rang. Lan recognized the inside as a toy store that they visited often, or at least as often as they made the long trip by bus, subway, and then streetcar over to this neighborhood. The floor was carpeted. Kids flipped through the spinning sticker displays and chased each other with stuffed dinosaurs. Lan wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but she had a feeling she’d know when she saw it.
And she did. At the back of the shop hung the costumes for dress-up, neatly arranged on coat hangers. Lan caught sight of them and strode confidently in their direction. She glanced over the princess outfit but quickly decided it would be too cumbersome. The pirate one would do nicely.
“I’ll have to move quickly,” she explained to her dad. “They’ll be waiting, and the dress will only slow me down.”
“Ai?” he asked, puzzled.
“Marlow and Annabelle, of course. I told you.”
“Ah, your book people,” he said. “I thought we came to buy presents for your mom and brother.”
“But they’re in Hà Nội,” Lan said. “Marlow and Annabelle are right here, and I promised I’d get back to them straightaway.”
“Don’t you remember?” said her dad. “They will be flying in this weekend. That’s why we got the new place.”
Lan wracked her brain but could not conjure an image of what this new Toronto house looked like—nevertheless, her dad must be right. She abandoned the pirate outfit and helped him pick out a ladybug-patterned music box set to her mother’s favorite waltz. Her brother would like their spinning dance. Lan still felt dazed when they stepped back onto the busy street. She’d have to let Marlow and Annabelle know she couldn’t make it the rest of the way, after all. Hopefully, they would not need her.
When she woke the next morning, Lan had no recollection of the dream.
* * *
Lan was sorely reminded of her bruises when she opened her eyes. Her stomach was uneasy. The green corn was catching up to her. Her hair felt grimy, and there were definitely zits forming on her chin. She glanced at the other two. Marlow was getting to his feet beside her, slinging his bow over his shoulder. Annabelle was fighting her tangle of hair into a high bun. Lan got up, her back stiff from the weird sleeping position.
Her new blisters had swollen to the size of grapes, but they had a bigger problem. Their water pouches were dry. Lan could feel Marlow’s and Annabelle’s fear as they packed up, the memory of the desert weighing on their minds. They needed to find water fast. Lan spread out her right hand, trying to draw out particles of moisture in the air but felt nothing. The Cognitor’s magic overrode it all. The farther away they traveled, the more light pulses returned to Lan’s fingers, but they were still too weak to work with.
By the time they reached the forest, the sun was blazing, and their throats were parched. Lan’s steps faltered. Their last skirmish with the tree guardians replayed in her mind. That had been a relatively small grove of pines—but a whole forest? She gripped her spear tightly. They wouldn’t stand a chance if these trees wanted them gone, and they would never make it around with no water. Ahead of her, Marlow stopped, no longer as poised as the night before. He hesitated as though having the same doubts.
“This forest is huge,” said Annabelle before either of them spoke. “We have to risk it. It’ll take months going around. Even the Cognitor said it was the quickest way.”
Marlow didn’t answer. Lan couldn’t read his expression. Though she wanted to turn and run, Annabelle was right. They still hadn’t found any sign of a stream. They had to carry on. Marlow took a step forward. Holding their breaths, they trod carefully past the first tall birches. No tree guardians made a move—but a wave of magical energy hit Lan so hard that she stumbled, winded. It felt like walking into a wall.
“Are you okay?” asked Marlow, stopping.
“I—you seriously don’t feel that?”
“I feel something,” said Annabelle, her lips pursed. “Icky all over.”
“It’s...” Lan paused to find the words. “Dark green and heavy, like a blanket. I feel like I’m being smothered in moss.”
“Do you want to turn around?” asked Marlow.
Lan almost said yes, but one look at Annabelle’s desperate, determined face stopped her. Lan shook her head. She had agreed to come, and seeking another way now would be enough trouble to discourage them all, if they didn’t die of thirst first.
“Let’s just get through as fast as we can,” said Lan.
They kept going, their steps tentative. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck. Annabelle was on edge. Her nervous breaths made the smothering sensation worse. Lan tried to feel for magic that she could use. It flickered, but her attempts were like moving through mud. What was wrong with this forest? She kept her focus on Marlow in front, scared to look at what might jump out from behind the nearest tree.
Just when Lan thought she might burst from stress and exhaustion—plop! She gasped and stared at the sky. Through the trees, she saw the sun had sunk behind a cloud. For the first time since she’d arrived, it began to rain!
The summer sprinkle cut through the tense air. Lan’s shoulders sagged in relief. Marlow crowed, his mouth turned to the sky. Annabelle laughed and spun like a dancer in the rainfall. Lan couldn’t get enough. It felt wonderfully refreshing on her face. She hadn’t realized how hot her skin had gotten under the sun and protested when Annabelle urged them to keep going.
“Why can’t we stop here tonight?” said Lan. “There’s always tomorrow to walk.”
“We do have corn,” said Annabelle reluctantly. “Let’s find a spot with shelter.”
Lan silently thanked whatever Silvan gods existed for cutting them a break at last. She threw in a shout-out to her own ancestors as well, just in case they had an eye on her. But after an hour huddled in a grove of twisted silver-bark trees, Lan no longer welcomed the sputtering rain. It had made everything damp. She longed for a fire. Annabelle wrapped herself in her dark blue cloak, the smell of fish on it pungent. Marlow handed Lan his plain black one.
“I’m not cold,” he insisted.
Lan took it gratefully and tucked her head in the hood. The desert’s dry smell still clung to it, laced with the lingering scent of dandelions that had followed Marlow since the western valley. She stopped shivering, but the green corn did little to fill her belly. Lan longed for a bowl of instant phở. In Toronto, she would’ve complained about how the seasoning failed to rival her mother’s homemade broth, but there was a time and place for the packaged kind. Her dad had really perfected them.
“Rice noodles,” Lan tried to explain to the other two, “but there’s all sorts of secret spices in it—and it’s hot. Perfect for a night like this.”
“No chance you can conjure us a bowl about now?”
“Marlow, I’m so tired I can barely make a potato grow.”
“Maybe when we get to Asta. I gotta broaden my palate beyond plain porridges.”
“Can we stop talking about food? It’s making me hungry...”
“You’re always hungry, Belle.”
The sky darkened. Lan’s eyes adjusted with it. The quarter moon shone brightly, but it was impossible to see far. The clouds were thick. Only a sliver of light streamed through the foliage. Lan leaned against a trunk. She could tell from the other two’s deep breathing that they were drifting off. She squeezed her eyes, willing rest to come. A deep sense of unease still nagged her, driven away briefly by the rain but present once more. She reached for her spear, reassured by its weight in her hand. Though he’d passed out, Marlow’s fingers were wrapped around his bow.
Lan’s gaze drifted to Annabelle. Her face was scrunched up, restless, as if fighting in her sleep. The sooner they got out of here, the better, Lan thought. The weariness in her muscles caught up to her, and her eyes grew heavy.
She almost didn’t hear the first creak.
The Creature in the Night
Lan’s head snapped to the direction of the noise. Fear gripped her so tightly that she could hardly breathe. She tried to tell herself it was likely innocent—a deer or rabbit out for a nighttime wander—yet, they hadn’t seen any animals in these woods. The realization troubled her. She listened for the sound again. Maybe she had dreamed it.
Crack! A branch snapped. The leaves rustled. Annabelle stirred.
“What’s going on?” she murmured, lifting her head.
“I thought I heard something,” Lan whispered.
“What?”
“Listen.”
But there was only silence. After a minute, Annabelle’s head drooped back onto her hands, her breathing steady. Lan frowned, torn between wanting to wake her and letting her catch her much-needed rest. Whatever had moved sounded larger than a deer. Even in the stillness, Lan couldn’t shake the terror rising in her with every second. Something was wrong. She felt it now in her gut and in the nasty ooze of magical residue all around. Slowly, she got to her feet, her back pressed against the tree bark. She squinted at the darkness—and saw it.
A large creature moved into the grove. Twice Marlow’s height, it towered, the moonlight glinting on its short silver fur. It stood on two legs and began to move slowly but deliberately toward them, a few dozen feet away. Lan gasped. This creature was not on a moonlit stroll. She heard a low growl and bit back a curse. Panicking, she knelt by Marlow, who was closer, and shook him. Annabelle opened her eyes again, confused and alarmed.
“What is happening?” she whispered, her back to the approaching beast.
“Something’s coming at us! Marlow,” Lan whispered urgently, “wake up.”
He was awake at once and sat up.
“You all right?” he asked. He reached for her.
Before she could answer, the beast let out a bellowing roar that shook the trees around them. A shower of leaves and a branch dropped from overhead. Marlow and Annabelle dived out of the way. Lan stumbled, trying to rise, hands over her head.
“Get up,” said Marlow, pulling her up as he spoke. Another roar shook the grove. Annabelle gasped at the threatening shadow.
“Is there any chance this thing hasn’t seen us?” she said in a panicked whisper. “Maybe it’s friendly!”
“I seriously doubt that, Annabelle,” hissed Lan. “It’s making a beeline for us!”
They backed against the large trees behind them. Lan felt the same powerful magic that she’d sensed in the Cognitor’s clearing—the thick blanket that had blocked her spells, but this one had no golden hue. Throwing caution aside, she scrambled to direct magic through her spear. Nothing happened. She might as well have been back to day one on the riverbank, fumbling through the residue. Chills crept down her spine. They were definitely not about to be offered tea.
“The trees,” Annabelle said. She sounded more scared than Lan had ever heard. “They moved! They’re blocking us.”
Marlow and Lan stared. Annabelle was right. A tremor ran through the ground. The silver-bark trees tightened around them to create a wall of trunks, sealing off every gap they might’ve squeezed through. This creature was controlling the forest! Lan had never seen magic so strong. They were trapped. Just when she thought she’d pass out from fear, things grew worse.
The creature spoke.
“Your escape plans won’t work.”
Its growling voice filled the grove. Beside her, Marlow swore. Lan felt his hand grasp hers and squeeze. She was breathing hard and could not move. She couldn’t even feel hot or cold or wet—only terror. From the corner of her eye, she saw Annabelle grip her dagger so tightly her knuckles shone white in the moonlight.
“What do you want?” Annabelle shouted. The breathless note of fear in her voice made Lan more scared than she had ever felt in her life.
“Straight to the point,” it said. “I like you.”
“We’re just passing through!”
“And this isn’t personal. We all must eat to live, wouldn’t you say?”
“Are you saying you want to eat us?” said Marlow, his voice hoarse.
“It is rare that I find a feast in my grove.”
“But we’re just kids!” said Lan.
The creature stopped in its approach and laughed. “Precisely! Children have the most heart, and that is what I feed on. You three have some of the heartiest hearts I have ever encountered!”
Annabelle’s mouth dropped. Lan’s stomach plummeted. She could see no way out. The heart-eater resumed its steady path in their direction. Steps away, it loomed as tall as the trees, and Lan could see the outline of a snout and gleaming black eyes. The word werewolf came to her mind.
“I don’t want to be dinner!” Lan squeaked. “I didn’t join this quest to be dinner!”
