Take Flight - 13. Chapter 13

The trip through the forest was disturbing. A worrying thought kept circling through Birch’s mind. Actions… reactions… Shit! Birch didn’t know anything about magic.

And that was a problem.

How was he going to figure out how to fix the magic when the only thing he’d done magical was an accident? Sayer had mentioned Birch’s instincts guiding his use of fae magic… but as a human he shouldn’t have been able to use magic at all.

Right?

How was he supposed to know alone? Sayer should be there with him. Birch clenched his fist over the mane he was holding. The fae horse turned its head and snorted.

“Sorry.” Birch tried to relax his grip.

Agarin, the Ledishe who seemed to be the most sensitive, looked green. He rode beside Birch, swallowing convulsively. “We’re close,” he whispered.

The horses’ steps were muffled and the fae were silent other than necessary speech. Birch figured they’d been walking along the wide path the trees made for at least two hours. He expected light to break through the trees and highlight the path beyond the forest but they stepped out into a gray twilight far from the light he was used to.

The gun metal gray sky brooded over them with low hanging clouds. The water was brackish.

“I thought you said this side of the veil was a lake and the other side was a swamp,” Birch said. He wrinkled his nose at the foul mist rising from the water.

“It was.”

“What is that?” The Alchemist pointed at something on the far shore of the water. “Whatever it is… that’s where the taint is coming from.”

Forisilki shuddered. “Even if I could use my magic, I wouldn’t touch this water.”

“It’s not an illusion?”

The Formorians shook their heads in tandem.

“We go around.” Birch leaned forward and his horse began to walk parallel to the shore. His hooves squelched in the mud. Rot and decay rose in sickening waves. “Be aware. I don’t see anyone, but someone has to be behind this. They could be around.”

A nasty mist swirled around the edges of the water, blurring the outline of whatever was tainting the fae realm. They drew close. Several of the fae drew weapons. Birch shook his head at the antiquated swords and knives. One of the dryads held a wood bow and several arrows in her hands.

Then again, it was better than nothing. Birch felt horribly exposed and unprotected. He scanned the lake and the surrounding shore. The air shimmered, blurring the trees beyond the water’s edge. As they drew closer he could start to make out the shape.

“Is that,”—he squinted—“a cross?”

Agarin leaned over the side of his horse and vomited.

“Alchemist?” Birch looked over his shoulder.

“That’s it,” he said quietly. “The taint is hovering like a red cloud all around it.”

“A cross.” Why a cross…? The trees.

The path.

Jesus Christ. Birch did not say it out loud.

“Holy Fuck.”

“What?” Vernon asked.

“Sayer warned me. He said not to invoke um… religious stuff.” Birch pointed at the cross. “I’d say that’s pretty damn religious. Think about everything that’s happened.”

Birch slid off his horse and approached the cross on foot. “It looks like iron. You guys stay back.” The legend about the fae and iron was true, and someone knew it. Birch struggled across the soggy ground, his feet sinking in. Cold mud oozed over his shoes. He shuddered.

White grains were strewn liberally in a wide circle around the cross. Birch crouched and ran two fingers through the substance.

“My lord!” Ange objected. “You shouldn’t touch that!”

“I’m not a fae.”

“You have wings.”

Birch shrugged. “Still not a fae.” He rubbed his fingers together and then smelled them. “Salt.”

“They salted the ground?” Forisilki looked sick. “And the water.”

“If I break this circle of salt and remove the cross, can you fix this?”

“Maybe. But to get rid of the taint, you’ll have to take it beyond the veil.”

Birch stood up. He wiped his hand on his pants. As reluctant as he’d been to believe in the fae realm, and his shock at the fact a month had passed since Sayer brought him there, he didn’t want to leave. “Can I come back?”

“Of course you can. You’re bonded with King Sayer.” Vernon rolled his eyes. “You can cross the veil anytime you want. The world is a circle full of overlapping realms with edges that touch. Anywhere those edges touch you can see the veil and pass it now that you wear the king’s amulet.”

Birch absently brushed the amulet under his clothes. He could come back. Good.

“Someone brought this here. Someone with ties to a religious community that’s learned about the fae. There’s too much I don’t know about you guys. I need someone to come with me.” The Ledishe were out. This close to the veil, and the human contamination, had them both ill and shaking.

Ange dismounted from his horse. “I’ll come. Away from the fae realm my magic is the strongest. I can help protect you.”

“I need you to help the Ledishe clean this area, Forisilki. Vernon, you and the Alchemist go back to the castle. Tell Croll what we found.” Birch licked his lips. “The rest of you spread out. Check the other areas where the veil can be pierced. Find out if there have been any human incursions recently.”

He contemplated the cross. “I have no idea who did this, or why, but the answers we need are in the human realm. I’m going to get them.”

First he had to get the cross out of there. The metal arms were twisted around a rusty iron spike. It looked menacing, and he really didn’t want to touch it.

“Lift with the knees.”

Birch eradicated the salt circle, dragging his feet through it. A cold shock bit into his palms as he grasped the arms of the cross.

“Ow!” Birch yanked the amulet from under his shirt. Radiant white light lit the stone. Not caring who saw, Birch reached into his pants. He shuddered when he touched the plug in his cock. Cold fire invaded the slit in the tip. Drawing out the hollow plug took a minute.

“Oh, thank fuck.” The burning faded as soon as Birch removed the plug. He held it carefully, not touching the cage with the stone inside.

“What happened?” the Alchemist asked. He stared at Birch. All the fae were watching him, their eyes huge.

“Oh, g—” Birch cut himself off. A wave of heat rose through him until his face prickled. He was probably beet red. “How embarrassing,” he muttered. Sayer was so going to owe him. A lot.

Birch stared at the ground, avoiding everyone’s gaze. “When I touched the cross my amulet, and um”—he stuffed his plug into his pocket—“something else with a gift from Sayer, lit up. They burned.” Birch looked down the collar of his shirt. He certainly wasn’t going to open his pants.

“No marks.”

“Interesting. The metal did not cause a reaction in you, but your fae, um, items.”

“Definite proof the cross is an attack against the fae,” Forisilki said.

Vernon harrumphed. “Like that was in question.”

Birch jumped in before the Formorian could snap. “Stop bickering. You guys have tasks to do. Vernon… why are you still here?” Birch raised an eyebrow at the cranky man.

“Fine. We’re going.”

Birch turned to the cross. “I’m going to try this again.” The amulet and plug had stopped burning him when they were away from his skin. He had to get the cross out. “Failure is not an option,” Birch reminded himself.

Ange stood by, watching. The rest of the fae had left when Vernon did, moving far from the cross. “You gonna be okay?” Birch asked.

The dryad flipped his long hair over his shoulder. “I’m fine.” Birch hoped the other man could hide his appearance like Sayer had, or he was going to draw a lot of attention once they left the fae realm. No one had hair that shade of green naturally, and Ange’s rich, brown skin had an odd luster.

“Okay. Here we go again.”

Birch hesitated then grabbed the cross. Nothing happened. He sighed and closed his eyes. Now for the lift.

The cross was buried deeper in the mud than Birch expected. He strained to pull the twisted metal form out. His arms and legs trembled from the effort.

“Ahh!” His breath exploded from him in a sharp cry. Birch stumbled, the heavy cross freed from the ground with a jerk. He nearly dropped it but managed to stagger into a tree. He panted, holding the cross to his chest with his arms locked around the arms.

“We gotta… get this... out of here,” he said. “Where do we cross?”

Ange led the way past the lake toward the shimmering veil. The ground sucked at Birch’s feet and bushes snagged his clothing and scratched his arms. Ange couldn’t help him, so Birch struggled to hold on and keep moving forward.

Passing through the veil was the last thing on Birch’s mind, but still… he expected something. One moment they were in the fae realm, the tainted land fighting against him, and the next they were in the human world. The glow on his amulet faded until it looked like an ordinary stone.

“Whoa.” Birch spun and the veil was still there. A vague worry in the back of his mind whispered that once he left, without Sayer, he’d not be able to reenter the fae realm. But he could still see it there, through the veil, the magical shimmering marking the spot between realms where they could pass.

When Birch turned around Ange changed. His green hair darkened to brown and his skin was tan but had lost the luster. Good. One less thing to worry about.

“Where now?” Ange asked him.

The house Sayer grew up in had been kept up. Birch had driven by it, more than once, to his personal shame. If he’d caught a glimpse of Sayer there, after four years of being alone, Birch might have hit him with his car. But he hadn’t seen any sign of anyone living there, though the yard was manicured.

“Do you know if Sayer maintained the place he grew up, or was it sold when he didn’t come back?”

“I am not sure, my l—”

“Birch. Use my name, especially here,” Birch reminded him.

“Sorry.” Ange grimaced. “I am not entirely sure. I don’t spend much time on this side of the veil, but if he did keep the house, there would be a ward around it.”

“Let’s go check, huh?”

Birch wasn’t entirely sure where they were, but the town was at the foot of the mountain. Downhill was good. The metal cross wasn’t too heavy, but it was awkward.

“How will we find out who made that?” Ange glared at the cross Birch carried.

“Well….” Birch paused, resting the cross on his foot. He had a bad feeling about it touching the ground. “I’ve been gone a while, but I know there are a few churches in town. We can start with them.”

“I hope this won’t take too long,” Ange sighed.

“We don’t either.” Men stepped out from trees in a semi-circle in front of Ange and Birch. “Purging you demons shouldn’t be too hard.”

A gray-haired man pointed a rifle at them. He smirked. “Did you really think we wouldn’t be watching?”

Birch’s heart pounded in his chest. Sweat trickled down his back as he stared down the barrel of the rifle.

“Mr. Rittenhauser? What are you doing?” His boss smirked at him.

“You really had no idea, did you?” the older man scoffed.

Birch looked at Ange. The fae stood calmly beside him. He flexed his hands.

“Don’t even think about it. This gun has iron bullets, just for you.”