NOT OUT. UP.
Up? That made no sense, but she remembered the route well enough, remembered standing atop the crenellations, thinking about throwing herself over. She ran up the stairs three at a time and burst out onto the open summit, her heart beating wildly and sweat coating her skin. Behind her, she heard the pounding of mailed boots. The sky was the darker shade of red that signified night in the Hollows. She spun in place, looking for a way to block the stairs, but saw nothing.
"What now?"
THE PORTAL STONES, DO YOU SEE THEM?
She ran to the battlements and peered down. The ground below was lit with torches as the guards ran about. Several saw her and yelled. The maze was far below, hundreds of feet away, and even farther away was the glen with the broken portal stones. She couldn't see Moonwing but knew he must be there.
When Angie heard the angry screams of Lodin from the stairs, her heart skipped a beat. She faced the stairwell, Lodin's heavy spear in her hands. She'd die before letting him take her.
ANGELA, YOU HAVE NO REASON, BUT I ASK YOU TO TRUST ME.
"I've trusted you enough, and look where it got me."
TRUST ME ONCE MORE. JUMP.
Her head snapped back over the battlements, hundreds of feet down. "I ... I'll die."
IF YOU STAY, YOU'LL BE ENSLAVED. JUMP. I WILL NOT FAIL YOU.
As the first of the ogden guards burst out of the stairwell, Angie turned and leaped from the battlements. Death was better than slavery.
She didn't fall.
Instead, her entire body burst into flames. With her arms outstretched, the spear in one hand, she glided through the air, on fire but not burning, although her beautiful wedding gown and slippers flash incinerated, leaving her naked but for her worked leather sword belt with Nightfall around her waist. Maybe the leather was too hard to burn away. Floating lighter than air, she soared over the maze, heading for the glen. The ogden guards shot at her with bows, but the arrows shattered against the Shade King's shield. She was filled with wonder. Lodin's screams chased her, grew weaker as the distance increased.
"Will he follow?" she asked breathlessly as she soared closer to the glen.
HE HAS NEITHER THE MAGIC NOR THE KNOWLEDGE, BUT HE WILL COME ON FOOT, AND QUICKLY.
She reached the green grass of the glen, her now-bare feet landing softly, her heart beating with wonder. She had flown—well, maybe not flown, not exactly, but it hadn't been falling either. She laughed with sheer joy, spinning in place.
And then froze when she saw the silver griffin padding silently toward her.
The griffin must have weighed a thousand pounds, far larger than any lion in Char's zoo. Its wings were drawn back, and its feathers rose like a dog's hackles.
STAND STRONG. THEY ARE CLEVER AND NOBLE CREATURES AND RESPECT BRAVERY.
It stopped only a foot from her, lowering its eagle head to stare at her. She forced herself to meet the griffin's eyes despite the terror that threatened to loosen her bladder. Her legs trembled, but her voice was firm as she used Lodin's spear to point to the grassy ground on her right, the message clear. "Moonwing. I am his queen. He told you this. I carry his heart and his trust." She carried nothing of the kind, but she did have his spear. Just how intelligent is a griffin? she wondered as her chest tightened with fear.
Moonwing edged closer, and it took every ounce of will she had not to bolt and run. Up close, she saw a latch at the rear of the griffin’s collar to which was still attached the long length of chain. Moonwing was as much a prisoner as she had been. The only difference was that she had been chained with magic.
"That golden asshole doesn’t get to keep any more prisoners," she said as she unclasped the latch, removing the collar around the griffin’s neck.
She dropped the heavy collar to the ground. Moonwing turned and ambled away, settling itself heavily upon the grass, content to groom its feathers with a long black tongue that extended past its golden beak. She almost laughed, imagining a dog or a big cat.
HURRY. USE THE SPEAR.
Angie faced the pile of rubble that was the Portal Stones of Nevernight, her path home. I don't know what to do.
She heard horns in the maze, followed by the howling of Lodin's barghests, his eight-legged hunting beasts. They were coming for her.
I WILL SHOW YOU. WILL YOUR MAGIC INTO THE SPEAR. DIRECT IT AT THE STONES.
She did as the Shade King asked, surprising herself when the spearhead glowed with occult red energy. She felt the Shade King working through her, as it had the other times. The first time, following the helicopter crash, it had taken over her body, casting snakes of fire at the Norteno soldiers. Later, she had given it control of her body and watched as it created flaming tornadoes to hunt down Nathan's mages. This time, though, they worked as a team. Without a word of instruction necessary, the Shade King showed her how to twist the flows of magic and activate the stones. The stones vibrated at first and then rolled together as they had before, fitting atop one another and once more forming a circular portal ten feet wide.
The howling of the barghests grew in intensity. Angie cast a wild-eyed glance over her shoulder as the pack of eight-legged monsters burst out of the maze, coming for her. Moonwing leaped into the air, his wings outstretched, and landed amidst them, ripping into them with beak and claw, scattering them. Bless you, you beautiful silver bird ... lion ... thing.
USE ALL OF THE MANA, EVERY OUNCE YOU STILL HAVE. HOLD NOTHING BACK.
And she did, pouring forth every bit of life force she had borrowed from Maeve. The air in the portal's opening warped and shifted, changing color. In a moment, it became a dark forest at night. Her world. A half-moon shone over the dark trees.
HURRY.
Still holding Lodin's spear, she stepped through, back to her world.
DOWN!
She threw herself to the ground just as Moonwing flashed through the portal behind her, his wings curled around his body. The griffin flew over her, his wings snapping out as he rose into the air and vanished into the night.
Angie rose on hands and knees. She had dropped Lodin's spear, and it lay before her, no longer glowing. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the portal was gone. But rising behind her, twenty feet high and built of sticks and rope, was a tall effigy of a figure with what looked like deer horns sprouting from its wooden head and a tall spear-like branch of wood in its outstretched right arm. Lodin. It’s supposed to be Lodin, but as a god, as he sees himself.
And sitting around the effigy, staring open-mouthed at the naked woman who had just appeared out of thin air, were hundreds of Feral tribesmen.
Chapter 30
For a single, heart-stopping moment, Angie remained frozen on hands and knees, staring at hundreds of Ferals. The Ferals, clearly as surprised as she was, stared back. This was a village, she saw, not a forest clearing. Dozens of huts and tents covered in hides sat amid the trees, all around the wooden effigy of Lodin. Wood smoke from dozens of campfires hung in the air, and she heard the soft gurgle of a stream. The Ferals, men, women, and even children, stared at her in wonder. They wore the same odd mixture of pre-Awakening garments and animal skins as every Feral she had ever seen. Dirt covered their faces. The men all wore long beards. The children looked like wild animals.
Ferals were cannibals.
Energized by fear, Angie rose and bolted, leaving Lodin’s heavy spear where it lay, leaving Nightfall in its burned sheath around her waist. There would be no fighting this many enemies.
In a moment, they were on her, screaming as they came. A man reached for her, but she veered away, slipping past him. Another ran right at her, eyes wild. She struck him in the nose with her palm, putting her hips into the strike, and he fell to his back. She leaped over him, but others converged on her, dozens. Their cries chilled her blood. Better to have died jumping from the tower than to be captured by Ferals.
TAKE—
Before the Shade King could finish, they tackled her, bringing her down hard. Her breath exploded from her.
Then fists pummeled her, smashing into her ribs, her arms and legs, her head. Light exploded in her skull as an elbow struck her nose.
Her world went black.
Angie dreamed, but even in her dream, she knew she needed to wake up, but she couldn’t. No, that wasn’t quite right; she didn’t want to wake up. This dream was too wonderful.
She strolled on a sunlit beach, the sand hot on her bare feet, and she wore something she had never worn before, never had the need: a one-piece swimsuit, blue and white, like her wedding gown.
Wedding gown? What wedding?
Had she married Tec?
She looked about, wondering where he was, and then she saw him, sitting in the sand with a small boy of no more than five or six. Both wore swimsuits. They saw her and waved with excitement. Joy filled her heart, and she waved back. The boy had his father's dark hair but her features.
They were building something in the sand, a castle. No, she realized a moment later as a chill ran down her spine. It's a tower, a tall black tower. But the sand on the beach was golden. That doesn't make any sense.
"I've found you again, my little bird," a male voice said softly from behind her.
At the sound of that mocking tone, fear splintered her heart. She spun, her hands flying to her throat. Aernyx the lamia stood before her, a hungry grin on his effeminate features, exposing the tips of his fangs. "Where have you been?"
She tried to cry out for help but couldn’t move. His magic had frozen her once more. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tec and her son, hand in hand, walking away down the beach. The boy looked over his shoulder and waved goodbye with his free hand, his face registering his confusion that she wasn’t coming with them.
Aernyx slid closer, blocking her view. He caressed her cheek in a mockery of tenderness. "Where did you hide, little bird? I know that bitch Elenaril gave you something to protect you, but then you just disappeared." His dark eyes glistened with malice, and she shivered. "The Obsidian Butterfly fears you. Did you know that?" He shook his head in wonder, his all-black eyes shining. "Itzpapalotl has never feared anyone, not even me, but there's something about you that frightens even a dragon. What is that? Tell me."
Shake King, she pleaded in her mind. Please, help me.
There was no answer.
"Tell me," he demanded, now gripping her chin between fingers and thumb and squeezing. The pain jolted through her jaw, and she feared the bones would snap.
"I ... I'm not afraid of you," she finally managed, her voice more like a squeak.
"Oh, you will be. I promise." He pushed her head to the side.
Exposing her neck.
"Please." She hated the weakness in her voice, the terror that held her fast.
He embraced her, his thin but unbelievably strong arms pulling her tight against his body, so tight she could feel his erection. His tongue brushed the tender skin of her exposed throat like ice. "I told Ephix I’d find you again. Now where were we before she so rudely interrupted us?"
He bit into her throat, the pain shuddering through her, making her gasp, yet exciting her at the same time. She felt her blood, hot, dribble down her throat. Then he began to drink, sucking the blood from her. She moaned, unable to do anything but make fists of her hands. More hot blood spilled over her shoulder, and he paused to lap it up with his tongue, clearly not wanting to waste a drop.
Then his body stiffened. He staggered back, releasing her, pain filling his black eyes.
She fell away, landing on her rump in the sand, staring at him in confusion, her hand going to her bloody throat. He moaned, his hand still over his mouth, glaring at her as if she had just done something to him. "It burns," he gasped, his words distorted. Agony twisted his features, and when he moved his hand, she saw his lips were melted away, leaving open sores.
Aernyx screamed and vanished, blinking out of existence.
Angie held her palm against the punctures in her throat. A part of her wanted to run away before Aernyx could return, but the soldier in her admonished her to remain calm, to apply pressure and keep the wound elevated. The blood wasn’t spurting, so Aernyx hadn’t severed a vein, but it did dribble down her shoulder and chest. She knelt upright, dizziness coursing through her, causing her to sway, her vision dimming.
She closed her eyes for a moment.
When she opened them again, she was in complete darkness, kneeling on hard stone. Silence embraced her. She patted around herself but froze when her fingers brushed over a long object with rounded ends—a bone, she realized in horror, snatching her hand back. Bones surrounded her, and she remembered a dark place filled with the bones of dead animals: she was back at the Black Pool beneath Mount Laguna. Then she realized the darkness wasn’t complete after all: a golden light came from beneath the dark waters. She leaned forward, squinting.
Something sang to her soul.
The dragon-mark on her left palm flared with occult energy, and she cried out, clutching it to her chest—
—And then she woke, her shoulders filled with agony.
She was kneeling, naked, her arms bound behind her to a pole so that they were extended above her head, forcing her to lean forward. Her ankles were tied around the same pole. Pain throbbed through her shoulder blades, and she moaned, but there was a cloth gag in her mouth. She was in a tent, she realized, a teepee, the walls made of animal hides. It was dark, but a single candle burned on a stump of wood. Fresh blood continued to dribble from the small punctures in her throat—she saw the drips roll over her breast and fall onto the dirt—removing any doubt she could have had that Aernyx had only been a nightmare. But what had happened to the lamia? She should be dead.
Starlight shone through the opening of the tent as a young man slipped inside, glancing furtively over his shoulder. He knelt before her, considering her, staring in confusion at the blood on her throat. He had long, dark hair and a forked beard adorned with ornaments. Recognition flashed through her. He wore the same sleeveless green vest and worn-out blue jeans he had when he and the other Ferals had ambushed her and the Seagraves in the woods. On his belt hung the same hexed hand-ax he had used to fight her. He was a Feral mage.
Ferals. Cannibals. Human monsters.
She almost wished she was back with the lamia.
The mage cocked his head to the side as he regarded her and then reached out and touched the side of her neck, pulling back fingers wet with her blood. He stared at his fingertips, rubbing them together.
"Do not scream," he said softly in English. "If you do, others will come."
She nodded.
He untied the gag and then sat back, his hands on his knees, watching her. "I am Sandman. The leader of the Good Old Boys Sept of the We Clan. I have been looking for you for a very long time."
"Ang—Angie Ritter," she said, her throat raw.
"I know. The Horned God told us your name." He smiled with his eyes, not unkindly for a cannibal, and then leaned forward. Tied the way she was, she couldn’t move, but he didn’t hurt her. Instead, he gently lifted her head and placed the mouth of a water skin in her lips and then tilted her head back so she could drink. Beautiful, fresh, clean water poured down her parched throat. When she coughed and began to gag, he pulled the water skin away, waiting for her. When she met his eyes again, he raised his eyebrows, and she nodded. He let her drink several more mouthfuls. Nothing in her entire life had ever tasted this good. He let go of her, sitting back once more. "Can you speak?"
"I ... yes. Can you untie me? The pain..."
"I cannot. I'm sorry. The Horned God told us you were the Spirit-Taker. I'd rather you didn't devour my life. Not until we had a chance to speak first."
The Horned God? Lodin. It had to be because of his helmet with the deer antlers. He would look like a god to them with his shining plate armor, helmet, and glowing spear. What had he said to her when he showed her the Stones of Nevernight? "Your world is filled with weak-minded souls, eager to betray their own for power. I gave them a taste of this power, even
taught some to wield magic."
Lodin had taught this man magic, even bonded him with a shade.
What now? "Are you ... are you going to kill me?" She meant rape, murder, and eat her but couldn't bring herself to say the words.
"No," he said quickly, shaking his head. "Never."
TAKE AT LEAST SOME OF HIS LIFE FORCE, the Shade King urged, communicating with her once more. So, she couldn’t talk to the Shade King when asleep. Good to know.
"I can't," she said, her fingers numb from the ropes. Even if she were free, she wasn't sure she could do anything with her fingers like this, let alone take his life.
"Can't what?" the man—Sandman—asked her. At the sound of approaching footsteps, his head snapped to the opening in the tent. Someone was coming. "We're out of time, Angie," he whispered hurriedly. "Can you bond a ghost to a shaman? Answer quickly, before it’s too late."
She had been about to say, no of course not, when the Shade King urged, YES.
"I ... yes," she lied.
He inhaled deeply and then jumped to his feet as two other Ferals entered the tent. The first was a tall, gaunt man with long straggly gray hair and beard and a hooked nose and ears so large they stood out on either side of his head. Twin scars sat on his cheeks, inch-long crisscrossing cuts forming a starburst. He was older, middle-aged, she guessed, but it was hard to tell because of all the dirt. His eyes tightened when he saw Sandman, and his lip curled into a snarl, exposing teeth filed into points. He wore fur clothing and carried a wickedly hooked metal club on his belt, an ice ax, she realized, having seen one in the Home Guard storehouse. The bottom of its half-foot-long, curved pick head was edged like a saw blade, and it sported an inch-long spike at the end of the two-foot-long red metal handle. One blow from a weapon like that would shatter bones.
Firestorm Page 24
