Free The Secret of Dreadwillow Carse by Brian Farrey Page B

Then Pirep waddled down the path. “Come, the Highness. Pirep knows just what to show.”
    Aon took a step forward, but no more. She tried to follow, but foreboding held her back with the strength of steel chains. Her jaw trembled as she fought, but the feeling was too strong.
    â€œI . . . can’t,” she gasped. “I can’t go in any deeper.”
    Tali kicked at the ground. “Gots to pay the toll, she has. Highness or no!”
    Aon’s stomach fell. She hadn’t thought to bring money. She pulled a tin brooch from her shirt. Her mother had made it for her. It had no monetary value, only that of a memory. But it was all she had to offer.
    â€œWill you take this?” she asked.
    Tali spat. “Shiny things? The Carse does not want shiny things.”
    Pirep tapped her foot impatiently. “The Highness is not knowing?”
    At first, Aon was confused.
The Carse does not want shiny things
. How could the bog want
anything
? But then, she knew it was true. The Carse planted thoughts of terror in her head. If it was possible for the Carse to give, surely it could also take.
    But what did it want? She thought of her previous visits to the Carse. The memory of how good it felt to pour out her grief roiled inside. Grief, later replaced with relief. Give and take.
    Sadness. The Carse wanted sadness.
    â€œI’m going to tell you a story,” she said. “It’s the story of a princess who was soon to become queen. You see, her mother was dying . . .”
    Aon spun the story of Jeniah and her mother, being careful not to let on that she herself wasn’t the princess. Aon described how Jeniah must have felt at the thought of losing her mother. It required little imagination.
    As Aon wove the sad tale, the creatures began to sway. They closed their eyes and lay on the ground, sighing contentedly. The sadder the story became, the more these creatures grinned with their terrible, fat lips. They were enjoying it.
    They were feeding off the misery.
    Finishing the story, Aon came to understand something about the bog. Something she’d never known. The Carse wasn’t just a place that evoked sadness. It
thrived
on gloom. That was why she felt so welcome here when she came to cry.
    â€œThe Highness is too good to Pirep and Tali,” Pirep said, sighing with satisfaction.
    And Aon realized she didn’t feel terror anymore. Gingerly, she took a single step past the hook-shaped rock. Then another. And another. Nothing. No bone-chilling fear. No unrelenting desire to run. That was the secret to going in deeper. Sharing such profound misery had kept the effects of the Carse at bay. Aon had to laugh. That made her the only person in Emberfell who could
possibly
complete Jeniah’s mission.
    She knew she had to leave the Carse soon or Laius would alert the princess. “I’ll return,” she said to Pirep and Tali. “Will you guide me then?”
    â€œWe will always guide the Highness,” Pirep said. With that, the twin creatures stepped from the path and disappeared back into the silty gray froth.
    Aon ran down the path, back toward Emberfell. She felt renewed. For once in her life, the piece of her that was broken had proven useful. Her brokenness would be the key to giving Jeniah what she needed and getting her father back. And maybe, just maybe, learning the truth about her mother.
    Here, sadness was a currency.
    Here, Aon was wealthy.

Chapter Eleven

    YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS,
    I have so much to share about my recent visit to Dreadwillow Carse! I don’t know where to start.
    Today, I ventured farther inside than I have ever gone before. What I saw during my time there was much as you would expect. In many ways, the Carse is a swamp, like any other.
    And yet, it isn’t. When you’re inside the Carse, it’s as if the swamp itself is trying to force you to leave by filling you with terror. I think this is meant to keep anyone from going to the