The Mark Of The Phoenix

Chapter 6 Snags And Betrayal

I awoke before the sun dipped below the horizon, gazing out at fields of green clover and wild flowers that blended into a heavy floral perfume. Blackberry bushes, grapevines, and strawberries grew in abundance, heavy with juice. I began to pick them while I waited for my beloved to wake, looking back toward the bluffs where we had climbed past the snow clouds. It was hard to believe how quickly we had transitioned from the biting, lethal cold of the ascent to the lush warmth of this summit.

Up here, safe from both Slayers and vampires, it was just me and the berries. The sweetness brought back a rush of memory; I hadn’t tasted anything like this since my mother took me picking for special occasions. She used to make berry pies—blueberry was always my favorite. She had made one for my last birthday with them, the very last day I ever saw my parents alive.

After eating a few handfuls, I knelt by a tiny stream to wash my face. The water was cool and refreshing. I settled onto a rock between a massive willow and the water’s edge, humming the first verse of the Phoenix Lullaby. I was just reaching the end of the melody when Dominic reached out. He picked me up and pulled me into his lap, holding me against him as we sat together on the rock.

"Don't stop," he whispered, his voice low against my hair. "You have an angel's voice."

I sang it again from the beginning. He held me close in his lap, both of us silent as the moon began its climb and the first stars danced in the sky like distant night-torches. They almost looked like they were sparkling to the rhythm of the old song.

"This place is amazing," I said softly. "Why do people stay away?"

"Indeed," he said, kissing my cheek. "Probably too afraid of the mountain," he whispered, his lips brushing the skin below my ear, sending a different kind of chill down my spine.

"And the gnomes," I added with a giggle. For the first time, I felt like just a girl, made only for my "monster," and I prayed the dream would never end.

"Where to now, my love?" he asked. He took my hand and we danced there by the stream—no music, just the rhythm of the crickets. He twirled me back toward the willow to gather our things. I grabbed the satchel containing my parents’ keepsakes and he gathered his cloak, and we started into a small thicket.

Suddenly, something snapped. We were jerked off the ground, tangled together in a heavy rope net dangling high in the air.

"We're in a net at the top of a tree! What just happened?" I cried, squeezed face-to-face against him.

"Damn gnomes," Dominic snorted.

"My turn," I instructed. "I have my dagger in my satchel; I'll cut the net at the bottom. I'll hold on to the net until you’re on the ground, and when you are ready, I’ll let go. Then you catch me."

He agreed. I carefully sliced through the bottom of the netting. I gripped the thick ropes with all my strength as Dominic dropped through the hole, landing perfectly on his feet.

"Now drop, Sindel! I'll catch you!" he shouted. I let go of the ropes and plummeted, landing safely in his arms.

As we gathered our bearings, a pinecone smacked me in the back, followed by a rock hitting Dominic’s arm. We whirled around to find our attackers. Behind a bush, I spotted two pointy hats—one red, one blue. A barrage of thistles and pinecones flew at us. Dominic, annoyed, moved in front of me to block the debris before reaching into the brush and hoisting the red-hatted gnome up by his collar.

The little man was plump with rosy cheeks and a long white beard. "Please, please don't eat me!" he shrieked.

The gnome in the blue hat and dress ran out, wringing her hands. "Please don't eat my husband! We apologize; we thought you were trolls! He doesn't taste good anyway—he tastes like rotten milk and eggs!"

"Put him down, Dominic," I said, touching his arm. "It’s a misunderstanding."

He hesitantly set the gnome down. The little man immediately hid behind his wife and stuck his tongue out at Dominic. She hissed and bared her teeth at her husband, who jumped back.

"I'm Beatrice, and this is Bernard," the female gnome said, scolding him. "We are the elder leaders of our village. Now apologize, Bernard, mind your manners!"

"Sorry, ma'am," he muttered. Beatrice explained that trolls had been terrorizing their valley, destroying homes and eating their kind.

"They ate a poor child's mother and father just yesterday," Beatrice said, her voice trembling. "Bernard and I have adopted the poor thing. She's only four and had to watch the whole horrible sight."

I felt a pang of empathy. "I'm sorry. My parents were killed in my presence when I was a child as well." Dominic looked at me with a mix of sadness and guilt. I squeezed his hand and added, "But see, Dominic is a vampire, and I am the Prize Slayer."

Bernard laughed. "A Slayer and a Vampire? That’ll never work!"

Beatrice elbowed him in the gut. "I think it’s beautiful. Like Romeo and Juliet—without the sad fate."

They invited us to their village, and as we stepped through the branches, I gasped. It was like a living dollhouse. Little homes were carved into the sides of trees and giant mushrooms. There were tiny shops, and at least two dozen gnomes were busy in gardens or selling acorns. Some even rode in little wagons pulled by rabbits.

We followed them to a mushroom house where Bernard knocked on a tiny door. A gnome in a yellow hat named Peter peeked out, shaking with fear until Bernard reassured him. "It's alright, Peter; they aren't trolls! We're just here for Windy."

Peter and his wife, who wore a purple flower dress, had been babysitting the orphan. They called her to the door, and a tiny gnome in a pink hat and flower dress toddled out. She had short blue pigtails and was clutching a sippy cup fashioned from a pinecone.

With the pure innocence of a child, she toddled over and hugged my leg. "Sing the wu-wa-by," she whispered in a broken toddler voice. "Mean trolls go night-night. You had red bird on neck."

Bernard jumped in excitement, standing on a mushroom so everyone could hear him. "That’s it! The prophecy!" he shouted. "My great-great-grandpappy said the gnomes would lose to the trolls until the song of the Phoenix was sung by the Marked One. He spent his life searching for the melody! He even snuck into the troll valley to steal a vial of their green, rotten blood to complete a forbidden spell."

Bernard’s voice grew solemn. "Grandpappy sacrificed his life for that blood, but he promised that one day, an odd, forbidden love would lead the Marked One here. He said that with one verse of that lullaby, the trolls would sleep for a thousand years, and the victory would finally belong to Known Valley!"

We set the plan immediately. Bernard acted as bait, leading the hunchbacked, club-wielding monsters toward the old swaying bridge. Once they were across, I stood at the peak of the hill and began to sing.

The melody drifted down like a physical force. By the time I reached the humming part, the trolls were in a massive pile at the bottom of the hill, snoring loudly. Dominic didn't hesitate; using his incredible strength, he tossed the sleeping monsters one by one off the high glass bluffs.

Beatrice, Bernard, and little Windy escorted us to the edge of the valley. Windy looked up at us with tears in her eyes. "I will miss you, Bird Girl and Dark One," she stuttered, hugging us both.

"We’ll come back," I promised, kissing her tiny forehead.

As we turned toward the dark silhouette of the Nightmare Forest, Dominic looked back at the lights of the mushroom houses. "I'm glad they have peace," he said.

"I am too," I replied, watching the moon climb higher. "But we have to save the world before we can find our own."