He helped his friend stand, and once more wrapped an arm under his shoulders. Fritz leaned heavily on his left side, and they started walking back to the center of town, Alex half carrying the other soldier.
As they passed the Brisian’s body, Alex suddenly felt a sharp, searing pain down the side of his right leg. He buckled to the ground, gripping the not-quite-dead man’s wrist as he did so.
“You might have won the battle, but you’ll never win the war,” the dying man choked out as Alex wrestled the hunting knife from his fingers. A dribble of blood spilled from the corner of his mouth. “Brisia…for…ever.”
He went limp, and Alex kept his hand around the soldier’s wrist for another few moments, not letting go until he could no longer feel his pulse.
“Are you alright?” Fritz asked weakly. He had fallen to the ground along with Alex, unable to catch himself due to his already injured leg.
“I’ll be fine.” Alex grit his teeth through the pain and rose unsteadily to his feet, heaving Fritz up with him. They started limping forward, and Alex chuckled darkly to himself, his thoughts hazy and muddled with pain.
Even wooden soldiers could be broken.
Seven
Itwasthesoundof Celesta’s voice in conversation with others that brought him back to himself. Alex blinked and looked around. The little ballerina was across the clearing, her white clothes standing out in the darkness, speaking with a small group. From the way the others held onto one another, gripping hands or wrapping arms around shoulders, Alex surmised that they must be the fae who had lived in the homes that were now destroyed.
He moved to join her, stepping carefully through the debris and willing his heart to stop leaping into his throat at every shadow that he passed in his periphery. Celesta greeted him with a small smile and reached out to wrap her hand around his upper arm. He leaned into the contact, grounding himself, as she pulled him close to her and into the conversation.
“This is Alex,” she introduced him to the four fae. They all had dark skin and hair, the two women with leaves woven into their thick braids, and worry lines creased their faces. Their clothing was all in shades of gray and brown, and Alex’s inner soldier noted with interest that if they were to stand among the trees, they would be nearly invisible from a distance. They nodded to him at Celesta’s greeting.
“Alex, this is Oaken, Fern, Sage, and Hazel.” Celesta gestured to each fae in turn. Up close, he could see a strong resemblance between Fern and Hazel, and he guessed they must be sisters. “They say that Stahlmaus’ men came through this area earlier today, looking for us. The fire was apparently supposed to be motivation.”
“Is this him?” Oaken asked, his voice low and deep. He gave Alex an assessing look.
Celesta gave his arm a squeeze. “It is.”
“And Drosselmeyer thinks he’s the one?”
“Yes. But Stahlmaus was somehow able to enter the mortal realm and tried to get to him first. We were able to send his army back, but in the fighting the gateway broke. Drosselmeyer has tasked us with finding the mirror shards in order to restore it.”
Oaken nodded slowly. “You are welcome to stay with us for the night. It will be a tight squeeze, but you know that Rose would never forgive me if I turned you away.”
Alex frowned in puzzlement. The comments about Drosselmeyer and him beingthe oneaside, how could these people possibly be offering them hospitality? From what he could see, they had just lost everything–and because of him, no less.
But before he could form any kind of argument, Celesta was leading him after the others. They walked a short distance through the dark trees until they came to a sprawling treehouse. An aging woman with streaks of gray in her dark hair met them at the door. Her face was familiar, but it took Alex a moment to place it. She bore a striking resemblance to Briar, the young woman from the chocolate shop. This must be her family.
He and Celesta were both greeted with as much warmth and sincerity as if they were long-lost family members and plied with food and drink. As he was being ushered away to find a place to sleep with Oaken and Sage, Alex whispered to Celesta, “Why are they going to all this trouble for us? We’re the reason they lost their homes.”
Celesta smiled brightly at him. “Don’t you remember? Dryads are known for their hospitality.”
Strains of music wove through his dreams, pulling him from sleep to wakefulness. Alex stayed on his back for a moment, blinking up at the ceiling of tree limbs and woven vines and taking a moment to recall the events of the previous day. He slowly sat up and rubbed his left arm. The stiffness had spread up past his elbow, and it took a great deal of effort before he was able to flex his fingers even a little. The cut on his palm was still red and angry-looking, but he could no longer feel it as his hand was completely numb.
The cots that Oaken and Sage had occupied the night before were empty, and Alex slowly climbed back down the narrow stairs that connected their room to the rest of the treehouse down below. A plate of warm flatbread was left under a cloth on the table, as well as a pitcher of juice and a bowl of fruit, but the kitchen and main rooms were just as empty as his own room had been.
Alex followed the sound of the music, now identifiable as two flutes, a harp, and a hand drum. The strains led him to the clearing from the night before.
Oaken, Sage, Fern, and Hazel stood on the edge, playing their instruments in perfect harmony even though their eyes were closed. Beams of green and golden light streamed from their instruments, weaving together before trailing away towards the center of the clearing where Celesta danced.
The melody was light and lilting, bouncing up and down in lively triplets over a harmony line that seemed to float in the air with long, sustained tones and grounded by the steady rhythmic beating of the drum. As Celesta danced, the light wound around her until her wings glowed, then flowed out from her fingers. Alex watched in amazement as every place her feet touched turned green with new blades of grass. Flowers bloomed. Saplings sprouted and then grew into young trees. New buds appeared on the branches that had been licked and burned by the fire’s flames.
The thought of the fire turned his mind away from the magic before him and to the reason that it was needed in the first place. It seemed that men were the same, no matter what realm they came from, and fire and violence went hand in hand.
“You have a troubled look in your eyes,” a voice said at his elbow. Alex turned to see Rose standing beside him, a familiar brown paper bag in her hands. “Chocolate?” she continued, holding it up. “It may not solve your problems, but it will certainly make them better.”
“You sound like Celesta,” he commented drily, though he did take one of the offered candies.
The old woman gave him a mischievous grin. “Or perhaps she sounds like me.”
