Page 52 of Up from the Earth

“It has been a while since I ran. I think it is time I did so again.”

Smiling, I lowered my head and glanced at the deer and the creatures around me. Understanding sailed through the air. I picked up the hem of my dress, dirty with soil just like my feet, and sucked in another breath, so grateful for the scent of bark and ferns and forest.

And then I ran.

Thearchwayinthewood remained where it had been, and while the path had been the simple way there, I’d proven time and again to enjoy making one for myself. The wind was at our back as we all stood before the entrance, and I hovered my hand over the black beneath the rough-hewn stones. Time and weather had found them often and would.

Strife lay beyond this barrier. I could sense the fury and anguish laid bare in equal measure. The call of my Beast King was silent, and my stomach knotted. I had not felt them since I awoke, and the fear of their loss stayed my feet.

“This is the way through.”The stag insisted.

“I know.” I bobbed my head until it lowered, and I shut my eyes against the rising tension that threaded through my body like slow-acting poison. “I have not felt them. I…I do not wish to face that reality today.”

The forest was silent around me, and I again looked over the host of creatures and spirits who stood around me, at my call to defend a balance and realm they would be connected to from this point forward.

Father Paine would seek out those cracks, eager to exploit them. I needed to be resolute, a wall of ice against an inferior wind. But I was not hard and had never been. My King and my Cerberus lay beyond this gate and they needed me, and I still did not know how to deliver the strike they required to be free of this wretched priest.

“Softness is not weakness.”I looked down to see a mouse, leaf ears and a rib cage protecting a snowdrop.“Seeds persist through winter because they must. Spouts search for the sun because they know there is one to be found.”

With a smile, I lifted the mouse onto my shoulder, feeling that connection to my earth grow.

The priest was metal, plague, and destruction. But he was not the only force that could manifest a storm. Roots push through the ground, unhindered by man-made blocks in their path. Branches reach up to the sky, creating food from the world around them. The cycle turns ever onward, and even Father Paine is beholden to it.

His gifts may not be of the natural order, but he is.

“Thank you.” I swept a finger along the mouse’s little spine, the ridges of bone dancing along my skin.

Reaching for the stag, I climbed aboard, seating myself between his large shoulders, a cushion of moss protecting me from the sharp edges. I looked down at myself. I wore that same gown as the first time I’d run through this gate. It was the same as I was not.

But I had not conjured it.

Wherever and through whatever barriers, something of my King remained, if not all. He was there, and he had found me. It was my turn to do the same.

I leaned forward, whispering into the stag’s leafy ear. “Take me to The Beast King. Father Paine would not want them far from his side. Take me there, friend. There is a battle to finish.”

Twenty-Four

There Is No Wrath Like That Which Comes From An Injured Heart.

Screaminghowled—bellowed—out from the tear. I sat mounted on my stag, the entire throng of these betrayed beings looking down on the horrific scene at the seat of Father Paine’s throne. He sat there, his body hanging lazily across the seat as he watched over his “kingdom” of agony.

It made me sick. His blasphemous self lounging about as if he had no care or concern in the world. Paine was a tumor, and he was eating away at my home.

Clearly, I had arrived here not a moment too soon. The infection seeped from this wound torn by a malicious hand, the spreading cancer creeping nearly the distance of the unending horizon. It wormed up the cliff face where we stood, almost touching the hooves of my stag.

“He has done so much in such a short time.”The mouse tucked beneath my hair and sitting atop my shoulder exuded nervous energy.

“Time is different here.” I clenched my jaw, roaming my stare over the hideous sight below for one singular thing. “Time is malleable if you know how to bend it.”

They must be here. Please. Don’t be gone. You can’t be. I know that was your magic.

A massive, shuddering pull came from the tear, and through the dusty, red tinged air floated souls, stolen from their resting places beyond her to feed the bottomless hunger of the Pit, or Father Paine. For certainly, they were one and the same now.

Heat and the rank stench of decay and burning metal consumed the air, making my eyes water. I had to find them. Ending the priest was one thing, but I could not leave this fight without my Beast King. They had to be down there, and I only hoped that they would have enough strength to return home, to me, to our son.

“Mistress,” I looked to the small boy who’d come with us, victim of the worst of Father Paine’s earthly deeds, “there.”

Following where he pointed, I saw it. Amongst the chaotic pile of skulls and broken vertebrae, some still clinging to crushed rib bones, was The King. They were chained to the mound, thick, rusted manacles clapped around their wrists and neck. I could sense their weakened state, clinging to their essence with every bit of energy they had left. It was a wonder they had managed to feel my return at all.

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