I stood on the edge of Vayland, looking down into a ravine. Silver pain pulled at a single point in my body, dredging up memories.<\/p>\n
When I was a kid in the first house my family ever lived in, my room was next to the living room and, thus, the television. \u00a0After bedtime, whenever I heard the television and no conversation, I would slowly open my door, crouch down next to the floor, and slide into the room on my stomach. My door was right next to the foot of the couch back then, and sat directly between the couch and the T.V., so if I was quiet, I could curl up on the floor and watch TV while my Dad lay not three feet away on the couch.<\/em><\/p>\n Some nights, I would fall asleep while watching. What happened next depended on who found me; regardless, I would always wake up in my bed the next morning, like magic, but if my mom had found me, I would get a lecture during breakfast about needing my sleep.<\/em><\/p>\n Dad never said anything. I suppose he thought that, between the floor and my bed, I\u2019d gotten enough sleep.<\/em><\/p>\n He understood; that much was clear.<\/em><\/p>\n When I opened my eyes, we weren\u2019t on the road anymore.<\/p>\n —-<\/p>\n The cage really wasn\u2019t all that difficult. There were no locks, only tie-downs, which weren\u2019t a problem if you ignored the burning of the mud. He\u2019d driven seven loads of winter wheat to town while running a temperature of a hundred four; if he really wanted<\/em> to, he could get the damned cage open.<\/p>\n Eventually, he proved himself right, although the sweat in his eyes burned almost as badly as his skin.<\/p>\n He slipped past the smallest number of huts possible to get to the edge of the camp, not knowing where he was going except away.<\/p>\n Just past the last hut, it got difficult to walk.<\/p>\n Twenty paces later, the needles started to burn like over-extended muscles. It felt as though he was trying to pull a truck with chains attached directly to his body.<\/p>\n \u201dStevn,\u201d came the phlegm voice. He was too focused to jump.<\/p>\n \u201dWhere are you going, Stevn?\u201d The voice was right in his ear, it seemed.<\/p>\n \u201dThe hell… away…\u201d Steven didn\u2019t even know if that was an answer or a command.<\/p>\n \u201dWhat if there\u2019s no one waiting for you?\u201d<\/p>\n The thought bored right to the base of his brain and waited for him to give. He wasn\u2019t going to. He knew if he could just get a few more steps, he\u2019d be free.<\/p>\n But what then?<\/em><\/p>\n What if…<\/em><\/p>\n When blunt fingers wrapped around his arms, he was already on his knees, looking up at the sky.<\/p>\n —-<\/p>\n Brock was standing at my elbow. Somehow, the smell of him didn\u2019t seem overpowering anymore.<\/p>\n It\u2019s not. Here, it fits in. It doesn\u2019t clash.<\/em><\/p>\n I shook my head, partly to clear it. \u201cSorry, what?\u201d<\/p>\n He watched me for a few seconds. \u201cHow\u2019s the pain?\u201d<\/p>\n I started, suddenly sure I\u2019d lost the needle, and felt for it just below my right collarbone. Still there. Still there? I frowned. \u201cThere isn\u2019t any pain.\u201d I looked at him. \u201cNot that I mind, but you said the pain would pretty much stay constant.\u201d<\/p>\n Brock looked at me, then glanced over his shoulder as Bhuto emerged from the gray-green scrub where he\u2019d gone scouting. \u201cI was wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n I wanted to ask what else he might have be wrong about, but the look on his face made me think better of it.<\/p>\n We started moving. The way they\u2019d explained it, we’d still have a long way to go even after we came through. Now that I was here I knew that was true; I knew exactly where we needed to go. I had no idea what lay between here and there, but I could point out the direction we needed to travel with my eyes closed.<\/p>\n I did, and we walked into the land of the fae.<\/p>\n Hours passed, during which the ache in my legs and feed subsided into a dull burn, giving me a chance to take in the sere landscape and starry sky. \u201cAre there territories?\u201d I asked of no one in particular.<\/p>\n Brock glanced around. \u201cHere?\u201d<\/p>\n I nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cAye,\u201d he said, \u201cwe\u2019re nowhere near a friendly place or one of those princess palaces they put in those ridiculous fairy books, if that\u2019s what you\u2019re thinking.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou should read one of those books.”\u00a0I let my expression convey what I thought of his guess. “I have, and I wouldn\u2019t go near one of those palaces.” I rubbed sweat out of the corner of my eye. “Why aren’t there any friendly territories around here?\u201d<\/p>\n He shrugged, looking around. \u201cDirt-eaters lose most of the fae wars. The losers get driven to the hinterlands, and these are they, no offense. \u00a0Even on your side of border, it’s nothing but violent winters, vicious heat in the summers; it\u2019s the worst of all the worlds in one place. The things that survive here…\u201d he broke off a branch from a bent tree that seemed to have grown up in the middle of a high wind. \u201cThey don’t have much choice.\u201d<\/p>\n I frowned, feeling like I should be on the defensive. \u201cAt least they’re strong enough to take it.\u201d<\/p>\n “Oh, aye.” Brock grunted. \u201cThat\u2019s why the dirt-eaters want ’em.\u201d<\/p>\n I didn\u2019t understand what he meant, but Bhuto hissed a warning before I could say anything.<\/p>\n —-<\/p>\n They let the thing that used to be Ted Schafer out of his cage that morning. The clouds weren\u2019t a complete shroud over the camp, but it didn\u2019t really improve the light; the sky was the wrong color to begin with.<\/p>\n There weren\u2019t any helpers to clear away muck and detritus from Schafer’s body; it wasn\u2019t necessary. The last batch of muck — Steven understood that that meant the third batch — was left on until it was absorbed almost completely, over the course of weeks. The camp then waited to see if the captive lived or died. In Steven\u2019s opinion, Schafer had been unlucky.<\/p>\n There weren\u2019t even any needles left to remove.<\/p>\n The tall creature stood before the Schafer creature in the center of the gathering and spoke in its gurgling hiss. \u201cYou have lived.\u201d<\/p>\n The Schafer-thing wobbled its head.<\/p>\n \u201dYou are part of us now. We are part of you. I am Churkk. You are Zef.\u201d<\/p>\n The thing paused, cocking its head as though listening to a distant sound, then nodded. \u201cZef.\u201d It swayed slightly, and several of the creatures came forward to help it to a hut.<\/p>\n Churkk turned towards Steven\u2019s cage. \u201cIt is the third day.\u201d It gurgle-growled, and its smile returned.<\/p>\n This time, Steven fought.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" ~ The Needles ~ I stood on the edge of Vayland, looking down into a ravine. Silver pain pulled at a single point in my body, dredging up memories. When I was a kid in the first house my family ever lived in, my room was next to the living room and, thus, the television. … <\/p>\n