A Slip Of Darkness

Chapter VIII

As Malcolm leads me towards the outskirts of the Wailing Woods, I keep my head craned backwards, watching Caspians, fathers and silas's figures fade into tiny specks, until i can't see them anymore.

I try to focus on one thing at a time. Stepping over a broken branch, avoiding a sleeping fox, brushing my hair out of my face. If I don't, my jumbled thoughts will drive me insane.

"You look like a true Xeorian." Malcolm comments, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I pry my eyes away from a patch of potent looking flowers. "Inside and out." I joke weakly.

"Still can't believe you have black blood." He responds coolly. "I just about lost it when King Ivius told me."

"Oddly, you don't seem like the type that would freak out." I say. Although I've known Malcolm for less than ten minutes, I get a calm, laid back vibe from him. Kind of like Caspian, but he seems more friendly and smooth than my real older brother.

He laughs, the sound refreshing and light. "After a lifetime of spying and politics, nothing fazes me much anymore."

In a couple seconds, he already managed to lighten the mood. I can feel my shoulders loosen slightly, and I allow my face to relax, letting go of the frown that took over my features for the past couple hours.

"How long have you been in Xeoria for?" I ask curiously.

"Well, they sent me in when I was 7, and I've been here ever since, so about 20 years, give or take a few."

I gasp quietly, unable to imagine how a 7 year old boy could deal with this. But Malcolm must have heard me, because he chuckles again.

"Don't gasp; it wasn't that bad. I got used to it quickly. This is my life, just like anyone else's, and it's comfortable. As long as we don't get caught though, right?" He turns and looks at me with an eyebrow quirked.

I don't know if i want to get used to this. The thought of making a whole new life here is scary, and the only thing getting me through this now is the thought that when it's done, I'll be able to go home and pretend it never happened.

But I don't voice my concerns. "We won't." I say instead.

Finally, we reach a small clearing in the woods, where a black horse stands, carefully grazing at a patch of grass. I can already see the outline of the Xeorian palace, it's black marble exterior shining in the night. Without being obscured by trees and branches, it's much more magnificent than I could have ever imagined. The illustrations on the maps I studied don't even begin to capture it's likeness.

I gasp quietly as I watch people mill around it, carting wheelbarrows and horses and satchels filled with goods. The sound of music and laughter rings from inside, and it suddenly reminds me of the revels in Eoria. Except the laughter coming from the Xeorian palace sounds completely lucid and sane, where the laughter in Eoria was always drunken and slurred.