Audrey Wolfe: Dark Woods

The dream started very hazy. As if everything were covered with mist. But then it sharpened in detail. It looked like some sort of underground guild. Jewels that emitted eerie light on the dirt walls, a large bonfire in the center of crowds. A black dais with dancers in bright silk, dancing sensually like snakes to drums and flutes. Skulls and bones were settled on the dais as the dancers swayed and dipped, singing to some slow ballad.

I put my pen down, closed the journal, locked it and put it away in my trunk. I turned back to the desk and sighed. My writing desk smelled like oak and candle wax and was covered with papers I’d been trying to read. There was little light coming from the flickering candles. My eyes trailed over them, watching the flames flicker and dance on their wicks. I smiled, but did not share in their imaginary mirth, my eyes remaining like orbs of polished sapphire glass. Leaning against the desk, I closed my eyes and breathed.

Staring into the glass of wine I held in shaking hands, a tear slipped down my cheek and fell into the glass; ripples disturbing the still, red surface. I jumped. It had been a long time since I had cried, a long time since I showed any true emotion, hiding behind a courtier’s mask. Taking a large swallow and putting the glass down, I fixed my eyes on the paper in front of me, the words blurring in and out of focus. I looked up and sighed, putting down the paper. Lifting the glass again, I sipped and put it back down. A knock at the door caused me to look up from the smooth surface of the desk. “Yes?” I called.

“I have the items you need, Audrey.” It was a maid. I sighed in relief and let her come in. Items were placed on the bed. “Will there be anything—”

“No,” I replied quickly, “you may go.” With a curtsy, my maid scurried out, closing the door behind her.

I stood and walked to the bed. On it a sheathed blade, and a mail shirt. My betrothed’s. Picking up the blade and shirt, I placed them in their proper places: the sword above the mantle, and the mail shirt on a wire frame. They shone with a new brilliance in the candlelight and I turned away, collapsing on the bed, breathing in the scent on the bed sheets. I hated how Donovan’s scent had disappeared from the furniture, his clothes and finally from the sheets and pillows. Never had I felt so alone…so empty. Slipping into bed, hot tears made tracks down my cheeks.

I sat up suddenly, climbing out of the bed. Sighing and snatching my leather coat, I fumbled with the many buttons, stuffed my feet into boots and quietly made my way to the stables. I didn’t bother to saddle or tack my mare Velvet. Riding bareback, I let the mare ride over the hills, numb to the kicked-up pebbles and mud that splashed against my back and face as I leaned down and rested my cheek against Velvet’s warm neck, feeling the blood pound in my ears. I let my body be lulled by that constant beat.

Riding down around the narrow road that led to the forest, I smiled as I heard the howling of the wolves. There was a certain musical quality about wolf choruses that I found soothing. A female emerged from the bushes, followed by her mate and their three pups. Seeing the pups crowd around her made me ache for Donovan, for children of my own. Stop it, I thought, let it go.

The female gazed at me for a long while, with piercing gold irises. I watched them disappear and led Velvet back to the path, the breeze carrying the heavy scent of wolf and fire. Suddenly I tensed. No, it wasn’t fire, it was magic. The metallic smell of Dark magic was coming closer. It stung my eyes and left the taste of copper in my mouth. Copper like the taste of blood. The mare reared, neighing in panic, the whites of her eyes showing. As I tried to get the horse under control, I was falling off, flying, as Velvet bucked and snarled. I hit the ground with a cry and rolled down the slight hill, hearing Velvet’s hoof beats disappear.

Gasping, trying to gather my bearings, I sat up and studied the surroundings. Birch trees and pine trees. Silence. Darkness enveloped me in its long clinging fingers, scratching away my courage. I moved and huddled against a tall birch tree, clutching its paper-thin, white skin. The smell came again, thick and strong. Drops of melted copper seemed to fall upon my lips, my skin, seemed to burn me. This was eerie, too unnatural. There were no birds flitting in the trees, no squirrels; not even any insects despite the weather being quite humid. Only the black silhouette of the trees, the whispering of wind and the scant moonlight. And that piquant scent of Dark magic. It chilled my skin, made me press closer to the tree. I closed my eyes, my cheek scraping against the bark. I longed for Donovan, longed for his soft fingers to brush my cheek, for his strength to chase away my fear, but I knew that longing would not be satisfied. I prayed desperately. I pulled my legs up against my chest, shivering in the cold. Please, I prayed, don’t let it find me here.

A thick mist rose to wrap around the trees, and buried the path and my body in coils of white, kissing my sweating skin with cool, translucent lips. The moonlight stabbed though the black outline of the trees, stretching out the shadow and the light, distorting trees and familiar sights to abnormal sizes and shapes. All of a sudden, Donovan materialized by my side. He took my hand and smiled. “Rest.” he whispered, “Rest…” There was a strange forcefulness in his voice, a hidden authority. His voice sounded almost scratchy. None of the soft, deep tone he’d used moments before he went out to die.

All thoughts of safety and home disappeared in an instant with this realization. I gasped as the form of my betrothed shimmered, his hand still on mine. I tried to cry out, his image fading as the face of a man with violet eyes and a bare, bloodied scalp slowly took his place. Donovan’s image had vanished. I couldn’t scream, this man had taken me by the throat, pinning me against a tree with his twisted, broken fingers. As I writhed in panic, clawing at his hand, desperate for air, the man leaned over to whisper in my ear, his breath hot on my neck. “Remember my face, Audrey…for I will forget yours.”

I glared at him. “Why me?” A glint of silver caught my eye. A stabbing pain raced through my body, followed by a sense of raw relief. The man laughed at me and watched as my face slowly relaxed. I stared at the man, my eyes filling with tears. His violet eyes changed to an almost-beautiful wintry blue, glinting with malice. He smiled and twisted the sword. “You shall submit.” He growled, “And you will not be the only one to grovel…dreams have meaning.” He cackled and left me there, the sword pinning me against the tree. Thump. Thump. As his form disappeared into the dark, I gazed down at the long, silver blade glinting in the moonlight, at the crimson that stained my coat. Thump. Thump. I could hear my own heartbeat. It was a dull slow sound in my ears.

I closed my eyes, trying to slow my labored breathing. “Rest. Help is coming…just for a moment…just a moment…” I gasped and groaned softly in pain. I heard movement in the undergrowth. Then there was a shout. I didn’t recognize the voice. I called out. “Help! Please!” I opened my mouth to call out again, my voice a faint whisper, a stretch of breath between vocal cords… “Help me stranger…”

Thump. Thump.

I heard the rustling of the undergrowth and gasped in pain as the sword was removed. In the fog of agony, the voice was close. I was being carried, the sway of movement soothing. “Sleep now, you’re safe…” The voice whispered. I blinked and was lost in a black sea.