The Petrified Flesh Read online

  Will tied his horse to the trees. “I don’t like this,” he said under his breath. “I never liked our fights.”

  “Good,” Jacob whispered back. “Show it. For this one has to look real. And we need to end up under those trees.”

  Then he punched his brother in the face.

  The gold in Will’s eyes flared up.

  He hit back so hard that Jacob fell to his knees. Skin of stone, and the rage of the Goyl.

  Maybe it hadn’t been such a good plan after all.

  24

  THE HUNTERS

  Hentzau had reached the ravine at daybreak. The unicorns grazing in the misty valley beyond had left him with little doubt that Nesser had led them to the right place. However, when in the late afternoon they still hadn’t spotted anything but wild boars and hares, Hentzau began to ask himself whether the jade Goyl’s brother had shot him after all.

  He was just getting ready to order two men to the entrance of the gorge, when Nesser alerted him to three riders, whose shadows the evening sun painted onto the rocks.

  Yes, it was them. The two brothers, the girl, and the vixen Threefingers had driveled about. And they had caught themselves a Dwarf. Not a bad idea. Even Nesser didn’t know how to get past the unicorns, but Hentzau had heard rumors that some Dwarfs knew the secret. Whatever—he had no ambition to be the first Goyl to meet the Dark Fairy’s sisters and set foot on their enchanted island. Hentzau would rather have ridden through a dozen Hungry Forests or slept with the Blind Snakes who bred and killed in the deepest crevices of the earth. No. He would catch the jade Goyl before he could hide behind the unicorns.

  “Commander! They’re fighting.” Nesser sounded surprised.

  What did she expect? The rage came with the stone skin, just like the gold in their eyes, and who would feel the brunt of it first? The brother, of course. Yes! Kill him! Hentzau thought, watching the two through his spyglass. Maybe you wanted to do it before, but he was always the older, the stronger. You’ll see: against the rage of the Goyl all that doesn’t count.

  His skin did look like jade. Yes, it did…

  The older brother fought quite well, but he didn’t stand a chance.

  There. He fell to his knees. The girl pulled the jade Goyl back but he shook her off, and as his brother struggled back to his feet, he kicked him in the chest so hard that he staggered back under the trees. The blackness beneath the branches swallowed them both, and Hentzau was just about to give the order to ride down when the jade Goyl reappeared from under the leaves.

  He was already recoiling from the glare of the sun, pulling his hood down over his face before he untied his horse. The fight had made his step a little unsteady, but he would soon feel how much quicker his new flesh healed.

  Hentzau signaled his men to mount up.

  He was going to catch himself a fairy tale!

  25

  THE BAIT

  Rocks. Shrubs. Where could they be hiding? How would you know, Jacob? You’re not a Goyl.

  Maybe he should have asked Will.

  Jacob pulled the hood closer around his face and forced the horse into a slow gait. How could the Goyl have known they’d be coming through this gorge? Not now, Jacob.

  He couldn’t tell which hurt more, the shoulder or his face. Human flesh was so soft compared to jade knuckles. At some point he had really thought Will would beat him to death—and he still wasn’t sure how much of the rage he’d felt in those blows had not been Goyl’s but his younger brother’s. Had he ever asked himself what it had meant for Will to be left alone with their mother and her sadness? No, he was very good at not asking such questions.

  Will’s gelding was still nervous about its new rider. Jacob could barely rule it in with one arm. He felt the splashes of the water like ice on his feverish skin as he urged the horse through the rushing creek. But still nothing stirred on the gorge’s slopes, and Jacob was beginning to wonder whether Will hadn’t just sensed his own jade flesh when something moved on his left.

  Now. He slackened the gelding’s reins. It was not as fast as the mare but very hardy, and after all the years behind the mirror Jacob was an excellent rider.

  The Goyl of course tried to cut him off, but their horses shied on the loose rubble, just as he had hoped, and the gelding dashed past them and galloped out into the misty valley. Memories… they made him choke as if the mist was made of them. Fear and bliss, love, death.

  The unicorns lifted their heads. Of course they weren’t white. Why were things in his world always whitewashed? Their hides were brown and gray, mottled black, and pale yellow like the autumn sun drifting through the damp fog above. They were watching him, but so far none of them looked ready to attack.

  Jacob looked around at his pursuers.

  There were five of them. He immediately recognized the officer. It was the same one who had led the Goyl at the farm. His jasper-brown skin was cracked at the forehead, as if someone had tried to split it open, and one of his golden eyes was as cloudy as watery milk. So they really had been looking for Will when they showed up at the farm.

  Jacob leaned down over the gelding’s neck. Its hooves sank deep into the damp grass, but fortunately it hardly slowed down.

  Ride, Jacob. He had to draw them away to give Will a chance to get through the valley. Before he got it into his head to join them.

  The Goyl were coming closer, but they didn’t shoot. Of course not. If they believed Will to be the jade Goyl, they’d want him alive.

  One of the unicorns whinnied.

  No, Jacob. Forget about them.

  Another glance over his shoulder. The Goyl had split up. They were trying to encircle him. The pain from the wound blurred his vision, and made him remember the other pain so vividly that he was falling back through time, and was once again lying on the grass, his back pierced and torn open by the unicorns’ horns.

  The gelding was panting heavily, and the Goyl no longer rode the half-blind horses they used to breed underground. One of them was getting very close. The officer. Jacob averted his face, but the hood slipped off his head just as he reached for it. The surprise on the jasper face quickly turned into rage, the same rage Jacob had seen in his brother.

  The game was up.

  Where was Will? Jacob glanced desperately behind him. The Goyl officer was looking in the same direction.

  Will had done as Jacob had told him. He was galloping straight at the unicorns with the Dwarf perched in front of him. Of course he had given Clara the faster mare. Will would have given it to a stranger. His unselfish brother. Still, despite the jade.

  Fox was right behind the horses, almost invisible in the grass. It rippled where she ran as if the wind were blowing over it.

  Jacob drew the pistol. His left hand no longer obeyed him, and he was a much worse shot with his right. Still, he managed to shoot two Goyl out of their saddles as they turned and headed toward Will. The Milk-Eye leveled his gun at him, his jasper face stiff with rage. The anger had made him forget which brother he was supposed to hunt, but his horse stumbled in the high grass, and his bullet missed its mark.

  The gelding was still going but Jacob was barely managing to stay in the saddle. Will had nearly reached the unicorns and Jacob prayed that the Dwarf had this time told them the truth. Ride! he thought desperately, when Will suddenly slowed down—and did what Jacob had feared most: his brother brought his horse to a halt and stared at the Goyl, just as he had done at the deserted farm.

  Milk-Eye cast Jacob a triumphant glance and turned his horse to go for his brother. Jacob took aim, but his shot just grazed the jasper skin.

  Jacob yelled Will’s name.

  But he still didn’t move.

  One of the Goyl had nearly reached him. It was a female, amethyst grains in the brown jasper. She drew her saber as Clara steered her horse protectively in front of Will’s. But Jacob’s bullet was faster. The Milk-Eye uttered a hoarse howl as the She-Goyl fell, and drove his horse even harder toward Will. Just a few more yards. The
Dwarf was staring, wide-eyed, toward the Goyl. But Clara had gotten hold of Will’s reins, and the horse she had ridden before yielded as she pulled it toward the unicorns.

  The herd had been as indifferent to the hunt as humans to squabbling sparrows, but they raised their heads when Clara rode toward them. Jacob forgot to breathe but the unicorns let her and Will pass. Valiant had told the truth. It was only when the Goyl rode toward them that the herd attacked.

  The valley was filled with shrill whistles, beating hooves, and rearing bodies. Jacob heard shots. Forget the Goyl, Jacob. Follow your brother!

  His heart pounding in his throat, he rode toward the agitated herd. He got ready to feel the horns once again pierce his back, his own warm blood running down his skin. Not this time, Jacob. Do as the Dwarf told you. “It’s easy. You just close your eyes and keep them shut, or they will skewer you like windfalls.”

  Close your eyes… A horn brushed Jacob’s thigh. Nostrils snorted in his ear and the cold autumn air carried the scent of horse and deer. The unicorns surrounded him like a sea of shaggy bodies, swaying and shifting, pressing against him. But then, suddenly, he heard the wind in a thousand leaves, the lapping of water, and the rustling of reeds. He opened his eyes, and it was just as it had been back then.

  Everything had vanished. The Goyl, the unicorns, the misty valley. Instead, a lake glistened under the evening sky. On it floated the lilies for which he had come here three years ago. The leaves on the willows by the shore were as fresh and green as newly emerged shoots, and in the distance, drifting on the waves, lay the island from which there was no return unless the Fairies allowed it. He was the only one who had managed to steal away without permission.

  The warm air caressed his skin, and the pain in his shoulder ebbed away like the water on the reed-lined shore.

  He slid off the exhausted gelding.

  Clara and Fox rushed toward him. Will, however, was standing by the shore, staring across at the island. He seemed unhurt, but when he turned to face Jacob, the jade was speckled with just a few last remnants of human skin.

  “Here we are. Happy?” Valiant stood between the willows. He was plucking unicorn hairs from his sleeve.

  “Who took off your chain?” Jacob tried to grab the Dwarf, but Valiant dodged him nimbly.

  “Luckily a female heart is much more compassionate than the piece of rock that’s rumbling around in your chest,” he purred while Clara sheepishly returned Jacob’s glance. “And? What are you getting all huffy about? We’re even! Except for the fact that the unicorns trampled my hat!” Valiant accusingly patted his graying curls. “You could at least pay for that!”

  “Us? Even? Shall I show you the scars on my back?” Jacob touched his shoulder. It felt as if he had never fought against the Tailor. “Just get out of here,” he said to the Dwarf, “before I shoot you after all.”

  “Really?” Valiant cast a contemptuous look at the island blurring in the gathering dawn. “I’m quite sure I’ll live to see your name chiseled onto a gravestone long before mine. M’lady,” he said, turning to Clara, “you should come with me. This will not end well. Have you ever heard of Snow White, the human princess who lived with seven Dwarf brothers before falling for one of the Empress’s ancestors? He made her dreadfully unhappy and finally she ran away—with a Dwarf!”

  “Really?” murmured Clara, but she didn’t seem to be listening. She moved toward the shore of the blossom-covered lake as if she had forgotten everything around her, even Will, who was standing just a few yards away. Bluebells grew between the willows, their petals mirroring the dark blue of the evening sky. When Clara picked one, it chimed softly, wiping all the fear and sadness from her face.

  Valiant uttered an exasperated groan.

  “Fairy magic!” he muttered scornfully. “I think I’d better take my leave.”

  “Wait!” said Jacob. “There used to be a boat by the shore. Where is it?”

  But when he turned around, the Dwarf had already disappeared between the trees.

  Will was staring at his own reflection in the lake. Jacob skimmed a stone across the dark water, but his brother’s reflection quickly returned. A face of jade.

  “I nearly killed you when we fought.” Will’s voice was still not quite as hoarse as a Goyl’s. “No matter what you’re hoping to find here, it’s too late.”

  Clara couldn’t take her eyes off the flower in her hand. The Fairy magic clung to her like pollen. Only Will seemed immune to it.

  “Let me join them. Please.” He moved away from Jacob, as if he was afraid he might strike him again.

  The sun was setting behind the trees, and its dying light spilled onto the lake like molten gold. The Fairy lilies opened their pale blossoms, welcoming the night. Jacob pulled Will away from the water.

  “It’s not too late,” he said. “You didn’t join them. You stayed with us! Wait here with Fox and Clara. I need to go to the island, but I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

  The vixen stared at the island, her fur bristling. She had been standing at almost the same spot three years ago, when Jacob had made the same promise. He had kept her waiting for a year. This time she expected him not to come back at all. Jacob saw it in her eyes.

  26

  THE RED FAIRY

  They found the boat under one of the willows. It drifted on the water like an invitation. And a threat. You won’t come back, the water seemed to whisper, rocking it gently back and forth. You should never have come back, Jacob Reckless.

  Fox didn’t offer to come with him. She knew he had to go alone, but when Jacob climbed into the boat, she bit his hand so hard that the blood trickled down his fingers.

  “As a reminder of the ones you leave behind!” she said, while backing away from the water. But the fear in her eyes said: You will forget us. When Jacob pushed the boat away from the shore, she was gone. Last time the Fairies had chased her away after they’d found him half-dead in their forest, and later on she had nearly drowned trying to follow him to the island. Still she had waited for him, spring, summer, autumn, and winter. But Jacob doubted that she would show such patience this time. He was never quite sure what Fox would do, whereas she could read him like a book. The vixen’s fur made her so young and so old at the same time—and so much part of this world. More than he could ever be in this world or the other.

  Clara was standing among the willows when he rowed out onto the lake. Even Will watched him go this time.

  It’s too late. The waves lapping against the narrow boat seemed to echo Will’s words, but Jacob was still sure that if there was a way to break the spell, the Dark Fairy’s sister would know. He pulled out the medallion he wore under his shirt, while he steered the boat through the drifting lilies. The medallion contained one of their petals. He had picked it the day he left the island. The Red Fairy herself had told him that he could hide himself from her this way. When a Fairy loved a mortal man, she revealed all their secrets in her sleep; the lover just had to ask the right questions.

  The island came closer so slowly that Jacob almost believed it sensed his betrayal. The other shore had disappeared in the mist, including Clara and his brother. There seemed to be only the water, the sky, studded with stars by now, and the island. Once again.

  He saw four Fairies standing in the water when he finally reached the shore. Their long hair was drifting on the waves, as if the night itself had spun it, but their red sister was not among them. One of them looked his way when Jacob hid the boat in the reeds, but she looked through him as if the petal had turned him into a ghost, and the thick carpet of flowers between the trees made his steps as silent as the vixen’s paws. The flowers were blue, like the bluebell Clara had picked. The medallion didn’t shield him from the memories their scent evoked, and Jacob pressed his fingers firmly onto the bloody imprint the vixen’s teeth had left on his hand.

  Soon he saw the first of the dark nets spun by the Fairies’ moths. Tents as delicate as dragonfly skin, so dark even in daytime that they appeare
d to have trapped the night in their mesh. The Fairies only slept there when the sun was in the sky, but Jacob could think of no better place to wait for the one he had come to find.

  He had first heard about her at a tavern in Austry. The Red Fairy. A drunken mercenary had told him about a friend she had lured to the island who had drowned himself after his return, sick with yearning for her. One could hear those stories everywhere behind the mirror, though few men ever got to see a Fairy. Some thought their island to be actually the Realm of the Dead, but the Fairies knew nothing of human time or death. They had no family, and the Red Fairy only called the Dark One her sister because they had both emerged from the lake on the same day. So how could he hope she would understand the despair he felt about the jade in his brother’s skin? And how can you hope she is willing to forgive your leaving her without warning? Something in him mocked himself. Do you trust your charms to make her forget and forgive?

  Yes, maybe he did. And maybe he just loved his brother that much.

  The tent seemed darker than in his memories when he finally spotted it between the oaks and beeches. Darker… and smaller. It didn’t look like a place that for almost a year had been the beginning and the end of his world and had held everything he had ever dreamed of. The net clung to Jacob’s clothes like spiderwebs as he felt his way through its gauzy walls. The darkness behind them was so deep that his eyes took a while to find the moss-covered bed he had slept in so often. Jacob took a step back in surprise when he saw the sleeping figure on it.

  She hadn’t changed. Of course not. Fairies didn’t age. Her skin was as white as the lilies drifting on the lake and her hair as dark as the night she loved so much. So beautiful. Untouched by time and the decay it brought. But in the end he had longed to feel the same mortality that he sensed in his own flesh when he caressed skin.