Drusk
Ifall, and fall, and fall, for so long Ihave to wonder whether I'll ever stop falling. There's a spell at work; until the master of this hole wishes otherwise, I'll keep falling.
Eventually, my feet hit the ground.
I've never been scared of the dark. When my eyes can't adjust to it, I still feel what's lurking around me. Darkness is shadow's friend. But now, I feel nothing, see nothing. My hair bristles at the nape of my neck, alerting me of danger close by.
"Who, say, come see old Traffatel," a frail, weak, high-pitched voice calls. From where, I can't tell.
I itch to pull the sword at my side, but I know it's of little use today.
"They call me Drusk."
"Do they now?" The voice changes, now stronger and more seductive. "We've heard of a Drusk, have we not? For years and years, we heard whispers. The girls talk. He sends their pretty hearts aflutter."
I lift a brow. "You've heard of me charming girls? I need to work on my reputation."
"Well said. I am in danger of being quite charmed, too."
A light appears right in front of me, held in the hand of a beautiful lady in a dress that seems to have once been white, though its lace is marred with dust and blood.
Her white hair is so long it surrounds us, covering most of the floor, but there's no other sign of age on her smooth, spotless skin, except perhaps the shadow of her pale eyes. Her ruby-red lips stink of blood.
"You flatter me, ma'am."
"I suppose I must. Now, tell me, little Drusk, what is your name?"
My heart rate increases, catching her meaning. I pretend I don't quite understand her. "Rystan, after my grandfather."
She smiles, her lips parting to reveal a mouthful of sharp, stained fangs. "Now, now, let us not play games. You know what I ask."
She wants my true name.
"And you know I'll die before I place myself in your power."
She tilts her head. "Yes, I believe you may. But will you treat your pretty, pretty princess's life as callously as your own, I wonder?" The hag changes, her skin graying, her spine hunching, and her hands wrinkling. "You come here, into my domain, knowing that I’ve outlived the first of your line, knowing that I may devour you, because you're desperate. Because you're powerless. Because you're weak."
I can't naysay her, so I offer her nothing but silence.
"I heard you boys talking upstairs just now.” Her eyes trail up to the ceiling of her cave. “I hear everything. I know of the spell you so desire. I know of all the ancient curses. I know every word that has ever been spoken in this land, since the days of your olden queen. And I will give you the enchantment. I will let you go free, whole, and in one piece. All I ask in return, weak, charming boy, is your true name."
Entering into a bargain with one such as this creature is madness. I should tell her to be gone, tug on my lifeline and get the hell out of here.
I can't force the word out.
Every fae is born knowing their true name, and knowing that it is a secret that must never be spoken. Fae children do not cry, for fear of ever speaking it. It is our one treasure. With it, we can be commanded to do anything—throw ourselves from a tower, into a pit full of poisonous snakes, kill our lovers and mothers, aid our worst enemy.
It cannot be worth it.
It cannot.
"Give me your name, boy. I will speak it but once. When you're alone and no one can hear. And in exchange, I'll give you the tools to save your kingdom."
I think I hate her.
"I'll give you a favor, then, without the name."
The creature cackles, and the sound surrounds me, coming from all angles, even underneath my feet.
