Nether

4. Bridges (Part Two)

When she quiets, Roane looks to me. "She says she's sorry her people chased you earlier, but they needed you to come into the meadow."

"How do you know what she said?"

"I've been taught many languages."

That in itself sprouts many questions. Only a select few that have come into contact with Sprites have been honored to learn their language. That, too, was long before the Division, and a privilege only extended to the leaders of each kingdom. I suppose the Trolls teach it to their sentries, but for what reason evades me, and quite frankly, it isn't the time to care.

"Why did you need to get me into the meadow?" I ask.

The Sprite Queen taps a quick answer.

"To lead you to me," Roane says slowly, just as troubled by the answer as I am. He continues translating as the queen speaks. "She says Lara met with her, just as she did with the leaders of each realm. She was arranging a summit to discuss pardoning my kind. Only two leaders were left. My king and..." Roane trails off, his jaw tight.

"And who?"

He stiffens. "Finvarra."

"The Faeries?" I can't keep the awe from my voice. Every human magician is raised hearing the tales of the faerie king who, after being betrayed by the Trolls, was ultimately banished to the human realm. Upon regaining his title, he convinced the other leaders that the Trolls were dangerous and couldn't be trusted. Fearing for their kingdoms, the other leaders united and waged war against the Trolls, stripped them of their lands, and drove them to the Nether.

After the war, fear became a disease and infected the realms. Kingdoms didn't trust one another, and worried that others might join and declare war against their kingdoms. That's when our world of magic shattered. All the leaders signed a treaty, forever dividing the realms. We've been apart ever since, each race in their realm and the Trolls in the Nether. I understand Roane's reservations.

The queen speaks.

"She says the last time they met, Lara was scared," Roane translates. "Someone knew of her plan. They were going to kill her. She was running out of time and had to reach two kings. She felt my king would be the hardest to convince and so...she chose to go to him herself."

I'm winded. My vision. I understand it now. The Great Mistress hadn't been murdered. She'd walked into the darkness willingly. And somehow, Roane is destined for the same path, only I have to stop him.

"She asked the Sprites to keep guard," he goes on. "Lara said you and I were destined to meet."

"How? She was a seer, but did she see all of this? Did she see what we were supposed to do?"

He searches the ground around us. "Where's your bag?"

Prepared for the answer to my question, I hesitate at the question that comes. I shake my head, and point in the direction where I ran. "It's in the bushes over there."

A group of green Sprites dash off in that direction. Within seconds, they lift the duffel bag from the bushes. With it suspended in their midst, they bring it over and place it at our feet. Roane bends down and rummages through it until he finds my journal.

"What does my book have to do with anything?" I ask.

Roane holds up the book up, open in his palms. "The black vines on the outside are the Sprite's language. That's how I knew to take it. They only write when it's important."

I arch a brow. "Do all soldiers have your education?"

"No," he says tightly and nothing more.

The queen hovers closer, touches a thin arm to the book. Slowly, curves and lines, letters and words fill in the pages as if blood mapping out the veins of the sheets. When the last of the letters are formed, Roane flips through the book. There are notes, but most importantly, there are hand drawn maps.

With quiet taps, the Sprite Queen floats back toward her rose.

"Wait, where is she going?" I shift forward. A cloud of blue Sprites brush in front of me. They hiss, a clear reminder of the pain they're capable of inflicting.

"She says they've done as Lara requested. The rest is up to us." Roane inclines his head to the queen who lowers into the rose.

"But I still don't know what we're supposed to do."

In spite of my words, the rose closes. The clouds of Sprites curl into one another and in a cloud of spectral beauty, they dash into the forest.

I rake a hand through my hair, fisting the ends tightly. With so many answers, I'm more confused than ever. "What now?"

Roane looks to the bridge. "We cross before anyone else comes."

I let out a bitter laugh. Anyone else means only one thing. Trolls, like him. The enemy.

Still, I follow him to the bridge and together we cross the unstable planks, holding on to thin rope and each other. This enemy is now my ally, and nothing is black and white anymore.

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