Don’t look. Not at that. Just look at me.

  His expression commanded it.

  I obeyed.

  Tears fell and my heart was hammering and I could hardly breathe through the panic and the stench, but I kept my eyes fixed on Renner until the sounds of wet, ripping flesh grew quiet.

  I heard someone retching. Agnes’ voice muttering and babbling in a tone of baffled anger.

  The hag’s wet, raspy laughter. A heavy thud.

  “He fed Baltha. Haha! Just as Agnes asked!”

  More retching.

  Renner stayed in his position. Looming like a statue between my vision and whatever horrific scene lay beyond.

  There was movement from one side. I could make out Josiah plodding towards the treeline. His face was drawn and bloodless.

  Another cackle. Then the squelching of oily, dead leaves and what I prayed was mud. “Elimar. Mm. Elll…” she gave a little hiss. “Obey! Obey, wretched, foul friends, friends who forget and hate and… obey. Baltha remembers. Elimar.”

  I smelled honey through all the rot. Sickly sweet and sharp. Then I heard a triumphant, grating laugh.

  “Heh! Baltha knows you. Poor dead dears. Elimar. Here, little Agnes. And, blood…” More squelching. Then the huge figure lurched back into my field of vision. I watched in fascinated horror as she loomed behind Josiah and wrapped one long hand, full of what looked like rotted plants, around his shoulder. He flinched back and pulled the knife out with a groan.

  “Elimar. Obey. Baltha remembers. The dead births again. Always comes again.”

  She withdrew and Josiah stretched his arms out, as if testing them.

  She leered down at him with her enormous, pond-like eyes. “Say thanks.”

  The big man stiffened. “Thank you.”

  “Heh.”

  Agnes’ voice was trembling and thick. “Thank you, Baltha. I… I think this will be enough for… for Thom.”

  “Heh. If not, he is for Baltha.”

  Josiah’s eyes closed. Agnes made no response. Ward retched again.

  The hag started to lumber towards us. Her yellow, flat teeth were bared in a hideous grin. “Goodnight, Agnes. Better not fail again.”

  “No. No, we won’t,” the old woman whispered. Her voice sounded very tiny and frail in the darkness.

  Renner was sent tumbling back onto his side as Baltha lifted our cage. I snapped my eyes shut before I saw any glimpse of whatever remained of poor Terrence.

  She started to hum as she walked. The cage was rocked from side to side and her rattling, breathy voice crooned out a nightmarish lullaby. I kept my eyes closed and pressed my shoulders back into the warped wood.

  After what seemed a long time, she began to mutter things under her breath. At first it sounded like nonsense; a conversation spoken in broken halves. After a while I realized that she was talking to the trees.

  “Little brother. Smells like sap. Did Baltha touch you? She doesn’t know. Remembers, though.” Her movement stopped. Our cage swung loosely just above the spoiled earth, and then she set it down. Hissed at a young pine tree in her path. “Why don’t you? False friend! Foul friend! Forgot Baltha! Wretched!” She gave a great bellow and snapped her huge arms out. Jagged, broken nails clawed and tore into the bark. The little tree seemed to bend away from her. Had it been a sentient thing, I would have thought it frightened and straining to flee.

  She ripped great wounds into the bark, howling all the while. I met Renner’s wide eyes with my own. After a few minutes, once the tree had been thoroughly snapped in two and its once-lush needles scattered all around, Baltha sank into the mud and wailed.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “Wretched! Wretched, rotted Baltha! Little brother, soon to be slipping, no more, Baltha only wants… ahhh. Wretched.” She stayed in a slumped heap, shaking. Finally she sniffled and rose back up to her full height. The cage was lifted again, and she resumed walking through the woods.

  I had no idea how long had passed when she finally reached the cave. It felt like hours. But suddenly the dirt and trembling firs gave way to a steep rocky tor that sloped upwards and glistened like dull charcoal in the starlight. Wind rustled the branches nearby and her great, calloused feet crunched against the stones. She climbed the incline, groaning with the weight of the cage, and towards a jagged hole in the earth. A tamped stone trail led down into darkness.

  “Three. Three for me. None for thee.” She gave a breathy cackle. Then she paused at the entrance and gave a sigh. Her heavy head swiveled and her sickly green eyes lingered on the shivering treeline. “Oh, remember, little friends. Baltha begs.”

  Then she trudged down into the blackness, dragging the cage behind.

  The first thing that hit me was the smell. It was similar to all the rot and oily decay, but less sharp. More of a sickly hue to the very warm, damp air around us. The tunnel was not tall enough for her to carry the cage, so Renner and I were propped uncomfortably together with the bars of warped wood digging into our shoulders as we were bumped and jostled along.

  It hurt, and the smell was nauseating, but the blackness was the worst part. It was suffocating me. I could feel hot sweat dripping down my hair and tunic.

  Will I never see anything again? Will she eat us down here, in the dark? Where we can’t even look and see what’s happening?

  Perhaps it’s a mercy. Perhaps not being able to watch Renner be torn to shreds is a blessing.

  I almost regretted the thought when pale green illuminated the man’s face next to my own. His eyes were wild and his skin had a deathly pallor to it. He looked at me, blinking against the sudden faint light, then turned quickly away.

  The green glow never became bright, but it was enough for me to catch glimpses of the vast, damp cavern Baltha dragged us through. I could see patches of what looked like slimy dead plants smeared here and there along the walls. They moved a bit, like grass swaying with the current of gentle water, and their green glow seemed to be the source of the light.

  The walls and ground were a mixture of gray stones and damp brown earth. I could make out odd things here and there throughout the room. Pots and jars, some smashed and some brimming with gray, molded things. A large stone was set like a table, with black wires and bits of twine scattered all across the surface. I could make out the shapes of small animals deeper in the shadows, birds and squirrels and gophers and perhaps even some cats. None of them were moving.

  And there, in the far corner, a long slab of lumpy gray stone. And lying on top of it…

  “Mm! Mm-mph!” I kicked my bare feet against the cage. It accomplished nothing, other than a stab of sharp pain as the twisted wood dug into my heel.

  Renner managed to straighten a bit beside me. His eyes had gone wide. He was looking at her, too, like he couldn’t believe his eyes.

  Teela was barely moving. Her eyes were closed and there was some kind of horrible pile of dead plants and oil smeared all over her face and mouth. Her skin looked wet and almost translucent, it was so pale. She was face-up on the slab, red hair pooled like blood beneath her on the stone. One thin arm was dangling over a wide basin. I caught a glimpse of crimson and dull silver from within.

  But she was breathing. I could just make out the shallow rise and fall of her chest.

  She’s alive! She’s alive she’s alive she’s alive!

  We had no way to save her, much less save ourselves. But Teela was still breathing, and that mattered.

  Baltha dragged us away from the Fae-touched young woman, humming under her breath. I heard the sound of rocks sliding against each other, then something heavy falling with a thud into the damp earth.

  “Quieter. Here. Baltha never likes the moaning.” She lifted the cage and dropped it unceremoniously beside a pile of mud-caked bones. My head was snapped to the side and I whimpered around the gag.

  “There. No fussing.” She bent down and peered in at the two of us. Flat, thick teeth champed together and gangly fingers drummed against the wood. “Heh. No mating.” She licked her lips with a black, oil-slicked tongue. Then she waggled a finger, turned, and lurched away. Back through the gap dividing this cavern and the other. Back towards Teela.

  Once through the opening, she turned and heaved the mound of rocks into place. Ensuring that, even if we somehow broke out of our bonds and got out of the cage, we were thoroughly trapped within the small room. As stones were wedged into place the light in this smaller cave dimmed to a dull, sickly green, but did not go out completely.

  Renner jostled himself into a sitting position. His face was still ashen, but his eyes were darting all around. Taking in our environment, looking for a way out… I did the same.

  There were more animals in here. Birds, squirrels, and a young wolf. They were all stiff and long-dead, held together by knotted wads of slimy black ferns and rotted wire. Each was propped around the cavern in a small group with its fellows. Their mouths were wired open and their little black eyes glowed in the dull light.

  There were bones, too. Some tiny and thin, and some clearly large enough to be human. Scattered all around. And clothes. Some ragged, some tattered and molding, some with embroidered hems and colors that were still vibrant beneath the muck. From what I’d seen of the hag, it looked like she had amassed her own loose shroud by knotting together scraps of many of these other garments.

  And in one corner I saw a shredded, still-gleaming breastplate. There was a heap of mud-caked white behind it, and broken pieces of sharp, silver-lined steel scattered all around.

  That must have been the paladin captain Rell told me about. Sir Fallon. Poor man.

  Saints. How many people have been here? How many people have been like us?

  There was no way to know for sure. The bones and clothes were many. And ten years, they’d said…

  Why? Why do they feed her? Is it just so she doesn’t kill them? They acted very afraid of her. Surely they could have gone for help or sent someone north, if that’s all it was.

  There’s got to be more to it than fear.

  Or maybe they can’t. Like how Gil couldn’t answer all of my questions. Like he was choking on his own tongue when he tried to talk about it.

  Renner had scooted over to the other side of the cage. He was rubbing his bound hands very slowly against part of the wall. Trying to catch some loose shreds of rope against a piece of jutting wood. His skin looked sallow and sickly in the pale glow.

  Maybe he’ll break free. He doesn’t look like he’s about to just lie down and wait for her to come back.

  I should try, too.

  But I didn’t have the strength for it. Not now. My limbs were limp and I couldn't feel my hands at all. My face felt hot and swollen. My head was throbbing. I was still struggling for sips of rank air through my clogged nostrils and the foul gag.

  Renner paused as I painstakingly eased myself onto one side and pressed my burning cheek against the wood. The pressure brought relief. I closed my eyes.

  “Mm. Mm-mm. Mmph!”

  The words were muffled far beyond recognition, but his tone was clear enough. Get up. Don’t give up.

  But I’m so tired, I thought hazily in response. I just want to rest. Please, just let me rest.

  It wasn’t as though he could stop me, short of kicking me back to consciousness. Which, thankfully, he didn’t try.

  I drifted away to the sounds of muffled grunts and scraping ropes and, from the deepest pits of my mind, a frightened young man calling for his mother.