Split

            Muiggenschire spread out before them. The end of the tunnel had come suddenly. One moment she was in pure darkness save the beams of torches next to Darron, and the next, Nascine was looking out into a green, wet woodland.

            The ruins were disappointingly small. The whole thing was just a relatively small amphitheater made of stone. The Woodfolk were still something of a mystery. The general theory was that they were just old pagans who still worshipped the Wild Spirits, but went north rather than south to Hesaia, and later intermarried with the Narcian colonists who settled Retrein. There were some more outlandish theories, though, that made them out to be people who had actually been made of wood, or people who could walk through trees as humans moved through air. Other legends held that they were a fair-skinned species that was not quite human, with a culture and mentality utterly alien to that of humans.

            They seemed to be gone, much like the Djinn of the Sarona. Though Nascine was of the opinion that the most rational explanation was the correct one, and that in all likelihood many of her own ancestors had been among them.

            Darron zipped up his jacket. He was shivering slightly at the cold, though it couldn’t have been less than fifty-five degrees. He would not be able to draw his gun. Nascine made a mental note of this.

            “Up this way,” said Darron. He walked up the steps of the amphitheater, to the top of a hill. There was a metal gate that had been padlocked shut. Darron withdrew a small key and let them out, placing them on a paved path. There was a display with historical information overlooking the amphitheater. Nascine was surprised to find that the entryway to the mine was not particularly hidden. Still, it had the look of a part of the ancient architecture. For all she knew, the walls of the mine were covered in the graffiti of bored teenagers, but it was unlikely any had ventured all the way through the mine, given the sheer distance that needed to be covered.

            “There’s no one here,” said Nascine.

            “It’s a holiday.”

            “Which one?”

            “Queen’s Crowning,” said Darron. That gave her a bit of a shock. If it was Crowning, she had been gone for months.

            They passed through a gateway marked “Retrein Historical Society Heritage Site – Muiggenschire” and came to a rather small parking lot. There was a nondescript car in the lot.

            “Driving back to Ravenfort?” asked Nascine. She had made up her mind not to go back to the Rookery, at least not until she had spoken directly to Elona. The challenge of actually getting in touch with the Queen was enough of a problem – all her previous meetings had been initiated by Elona – but she had hoped there might be some time between her escort by Darron and her arrival at the hospital in which she would be left alone. Perhaps, she thought, it would be unwise for Darron as an agent of the House – the “real, good House,” or whatever – to be seen with her. But if she was stuck in a car with him, it would be considerably trickier.

            “That’s the idea,” said Darron. “Here’s the part you’re not going to like.” And with that, he opened the trunk. There was a set of blankets and a pillow inside.

            “What?”

            “We can’t have anyone seeing you in the car with me. I’m just going to be driving in there, visiting a friend who’s sick, and once I’m out of the car and my guy tells me there’s no one in the garage to see you, you’ll pop out of the trunk and head to Doctor Levinson’s office on the sixth floor.”

            Nascine stepped back.

            Darron smiled. It was a charming smile. Darron was handsome. She wondered if that was calculated – if that was why he had been sent to escort her back and convince her to get into the trunk of a car. “You’re understandably hesitant,” said Darron. “I totally understand. Is there any way we can make it more comfortable for you?”

            “I’m not going to ride in there,” she replied. You’re accelerating the conflict here, she thought.

            “Ok,” said Darron, his hands up. His fingers were shaking a bit from the cold. “It’s fine. We can get a different vehicle. It’ll just take some time.”

            “No,” said Nascine. “I’ll get there on my own.”

            Darron frowned. “You’re not claustrophobic, are you?” Nascine knew better than to bluff him by saying yes. There was nothing really for it now.

            Darron’s tone changed. “Get in the trunk. We have to go now.”

            “I’m ok. I’ll go,” said Nascine, putting her hands up and moving toward the car. Darron stood behind the car, one hand resting on the trunk’s door. She lowered her head and stepped forward, allowing Darron to get close.

            “Ok, now watch your head, because…”

            She swung around and grabbed his head with both hands, smashing him into the trunk door. Darron yelped as blood squirted out of his nose. He lunged forward at her, but Nascine caught his arm and pulled him around into the trunk. She surprised herself with how easily she had done it – even his feet were inside. His fist flailed out at her, grabbing the hem of her shirt. She brought the door down hard, and Darron yanked his hand back to prevent it from getting crushed. The trunk was closed, but her shirt was still caught under the door.

            She yanked at it, pulling as hard as she could until the fabric tore and she broke free. She stumbled back, breathing heavily. She was shocked that she had been able to trap him so fluidly. She smiled to herself, allowing a moment to savor a short-term victory that was sure to lead to new complications down the road.

            BANG! BANG!

            Two holes appeared in the trunk door. Nascine leapt back. The gun – Darron had fired his gun. She looked down to check herself for wounds, but other than her torn shirt, it looked like everything was intact.

            She moved away from the car. Darron fired again, but if he was aiming for the locking mechanism, his strategy was proving ineffective.

            And then she heard footsteps. Up the road, three people in grey and black were running at her.

            “Get him out of that trunk!” called the one in the lead, an athletic-looking woman who seemed about Nasicne’s age. “I’ll get the girl!”

            Nascine took a half second to process all of this, and then she ran across the road and into the forest.

            The Agents chased Nascine into the forest. It was an old forest, filled with gnarled trees and large ferns. The figure – one could not call him a man, even if he looked like a man – could see them even though he was not looking in their direction. They were so young, but then, everyone was so young. Even his darling Elona was young, and she was counted ancient among her subjects.

            The figure closed his eyes and rubbed his head – balding, but never bald. There was a shadow cast by one of the great Ockwood Trees, though it shouldn’t have been there, as the sky was overcast and there was a light rain. Still, the shadow was there, and the figure stepped into the shadow and was gone.

(Copyright Daniel Szolovits 2015)