My ears hurt, and my throat felt raw. I turned to Trytian. “What happened to Ron?”
“Sand beast got him. Once they have hold of you, you’re dead. He was dead by the time they got him in there, vampire or not. They cut you into pieces and eat you.” His bluntness hit hard, but I realized that he was doing me a favor by taking away any hope that I had for rescuing Ron, and also by reassuring me that his death had been quick.
I pressed my lips together and nodded.
“Come, let’s get into the forest, where we can rest a bit. The going will be much easier than either the rock sculptures or the Plain of Winds were. There is no undergrowth, no living thing in the forest save for a creature or two who might be hiding in there. The trees turned to stone long ago, and there is nothing to impede our way.” Trytian motioned for us to follow him into the woods.
The stone trees were eerie, and while the wind still blew stiffly here, it was nothing like what it had been out in the plains. But it whistled through the trees, and where knotholes had been, the gusts created mournful notes, like blowing through hollow reeds. The plains had been rough and tiring. The forest was downright eerie.
Trytian led us to a fallen log. Even without foliage on the trees, the trunks were big enough and thick enough to hide us from sight. “Rest here for a bit. If you have food, I suggest eating now. If you need water, we brought some that is safe to drink. Any water you might find in the forest, avoid—it will be heavy with ores and minerals that might injure you.”
Trillian and Shade found a log to sit on. Vanzir headed over to talk to Trytian. Sandra, Jorge, Tico, and Jacob huddled together on another fallen log. I wandered over to them.
“I’m sorry about Ron. I want you to know that I appreciate your efforts—you’re doing great.” I wasn’t sure what to say. They had been ordered to come with me, so it wasn’t exactly like they had volunteered for this mission. But then again, this was their job. There was a fine line to walk when discussing the death of a guard member with his companions.
Sandra and the others immediately were on their feet, bowing to me.
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
I realized then that they were not my friends. I was their princess, and I couldn’t just sit down and mourn Ron’s death with them. That was their place, and they needed me to leave them alone to do so. “I just wanted you to know, Ron’s death won’t be forgotten.” And then, before they could answer, I returned to Trillian and Shade, settling down beside them.
“You can’t hang with the boys now, Menolly.” Trillian spoke softly, making sure his words did not carry. “You belong to royalty. You can’t go out there and be just a regular guy . . . woman . . . vampire, again. Even in your bar, you’re going to have to pull back a bit. I hate to break it to you, but everything changed the moment you put on that crown.”
“I’m just beginning to understand how much.” My mood fell as the weight of what I had taken on began to hit home. But nothing mattered so much as finding my wife, safe and alive. “As long as we can find Nerissa, I can handle anything. Even if it means I have to hand over running the bar to Derrick.” I paused, then asked, “And you . . . how will you feel living out at Talamh Lonrach Oll, when your wife becomes the new Queen of Dusk and Twilight?”
Trillian shrugged. “I’ve lived many places in my life. I enjoy living in the house with everyone else, but truth be told, the thought of moving? As long as I’m with Camille? I don’t care whether we go back to Otherworld, or stay Earthside. Houses come and go. Love is what lasts.”
Shade frowned. “Delilah’s having a hard time, but I’m hoping to be able to help her move through the fear of change. Because change will come as it will, and there’s nothing we can do to prevent it. In fact, try to stop it and you trip over the turning wheels.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” I flashed him a weary grin. “I discovered that one the hard way. Kitten has never had an easy time with change. She’s a cat—and cats like their routines. I remember once, when we were little girls—it was shortly after Mother died—Camille decided that we were going to change what we usually ate for breakfast. We had been having porridge since we were babies. But Camille said that Father had ordered her to switch us over to ‘grown-up’ breakfasts. So we moved to eggs and ham and crusty bread. Delilah threw a fit. She went on a hunger strike.”
“I’ll bet that lasted a good hour.” Shade laughed.
I nodded. “All of one day, actually. But every morning for a week she cried. She wanted her porridge. We finally figured out that it reminded her of Mother giving us breakfast. She was terrified Mother’s spirit would be angry with her for ‘forgetting’ her. Once we calmed her down and helped her understand that she wasn’t betraying Mother’s memory by eating her eggs and ham, she was fine with it. Sometimes it just takes a change of perspective to be able to accept life’s vagaries.”
And even as I spoke, I realized that I needed to pay attention to my own words. And perhaps bring the thought up that everything was going to be all right—that we needed to move on with our lives, and that nothing could tear us apart.
“I’ll have a talk with Kitten when we get home. She’ll listen to me, and to Camille. We can set her mind at ease. Plus, when she marries you, I imagine things will change for her. She’ll see that she’s moving on, too. Once she realizes that she’s not being left behind, that we’re not running away from each other but rather to the next stage in our lives, I think she’ll be okay.”
Shade reached out and took my hand. “Thank you, Menolly. I’m grateful to have you and Camille as sisters-in-laws. I love Delilah, in a way I never expected to love anybody. When the Autumn Lord assigned me to her . . . I was a dutiful servant, yes, but not sure what to expect. Then I saw her—long before she ever knew me—and was struck by how strong she was even through the vulnerability.”
“She’s always had a certain naïveté.” I shrugged. “It’s her Achilles heel, as well as a charm.”
“That’s not what drew me in. I’m not fond of weak women, but I saw what your sister could become. I see what she will become, and I’m grateful she’s able to keep her essential self while she evolves. She’s good, and kind, and loving. And she’ll put her life on the line for those she cares about. Those qualities . . . those are why I love her. Not her looks—though she is beautiful to me. Not the little girl. I love the woman who can calmly fight off a horde of zombies, and then turn around and coo over a bunny rabbit.”
Trytian and Vanzir joined us at that moment.
“I’m sorry about your man—Ron, was it?” Trytian shrugged. “There’s never a good way to lose someone. But I couldn’t let you try to rescue him. It would have been far too dangerous, and vampire or not, he was already dead.”
“I’m grateful you made that clear. It allowed his companions peace of mind. And here, I think that is something that is hard fought for, and hard won.” I shivered. The starkness of this realm—the harshness—was burning itself into my psyche with every move we made. There would be no joy here, not the joy that felt clear and pure. The Sub-Realms were as tainted a place as I’d ever experienced, and I had no desire to ever come back.
“Stay here too long, and you lose your soul,” Vanzir whispered. “I am still trying to regain mine.”
“I think Aeval will help you with that.” Trillian pushed himself to his feet and stretched.
“I hope you’re right.”
Trytian cleared his throat. “We should move onward, if you’ve had enough chance to rest.”
We were all good to go, so we began the march deeper into the forest. The trees were dark here; they had taken on the sheen of granite, though I realized they were actually fossilized wood. But they were misshapen, bent and twisted, and without any greenery, they appeared like creatures out of some nightmare realm, ancient beings that perhaps moved so slowly no one ever noticed until one day, they had crept out of the fores
t to right below the window and were brushing against the glass.
I wondered—the trees over Earthside, and in Otherworld all had sentience of some sort; they had a form of consciousness that witches like Camille could sense and sometimes tap into. Did the petrified trees still retain what consciousness they had once had? And if so, did they have any conscience to go along with it? Or did they seethe, slowly festering anger at the demons who wandered this realm, destroying the land and blighting everything they touched?
The walk through the forest was easy going, comparatively, but we would have been lost without Trytian to pave the way. He seemed to have an instinctive knowledge of which way and where to turn, though I could see no noticeable landmarks. I had no idea how much time was passing. I wasn’t tired; there was no pull of the sunrise to drag me down into sleep. Which raised the question: Did the vampires here walk the world day and night, unending, never resting? And if so, was that how they grew so terribly strong?
These thoughts, and others, flitted through my mind as we hiked through the petrified forest. We were silent, because who knew what ears might be hiding behind the stone trees? But after a while, Trytian held up his hand. He motioned up ahead, and I noticed that the wood seemed to be thinning out. We were near the opening.
He motioned for everyone to huddle close. “We are near the exit to the forest. When we come out, a short quarter mile to the left will take us to one of Shadow Wing’s encampments. He is not there, but the place is overrun with his demons. The path to the right leads to the detention center, and that is where they took Nerissa. I can’t be sure she’s still there, but I would guess she is. We’ll have to be cautious from here on out, to avoid attention. We do not want to take on the encampment. There are far too many demons for us to handle. I will lead us a roundabout way and we will skirt the path, keeping to the outcroppings of stone and scrub that border the area. Follow my orders. Do not diverge from them, or you will bring the entire encampment down on us and we might as well slit our throats before they catch us. Do you understand?”
Everyone nodded.
“What happens when we get to the detention center?” I prayed that my wife was all right and that she was still there.
“We break in, however we see best, and hope we manage through. Then we run like hell back to the stone forest. There, we keep a move on until we make it back to the Demon Gate. I hope you aren’t tired because there will be no rest until we manage through. We don’t have that luxury. So . . . are you ready?” He glanced at each of us, and we nodded in turn.
“Then let’s go rescue your wife.” And with that, we headed out of the frying pan into the heart of the fire.
Chapter 18
As we came out of the forest, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I was surprised to see some actual living vegetation, though it was scrub brush like that found in a lot of desert places. The soil was hard, and the stone outcroppings were back, but they were even more weathered down, to the size of giant red boulders rather than true hoodoos.
A sense of activity filled the air, compared to the dead silence of the forest. There were creatures here, Demonkin, and even though we could neither see nor hear them, I knew they were out there. Part of me wanted to charge ahead, to race on and find Nerissa regardless of the cost. But I reined myself in. I would only hurt our chances if I ran off half-cocked. I had promised Trytian that I would follow his orders and I was intent on keeping that promise.
Trytian paused, as if listening, then nodded for us to follow him. We hunched, racing low to the ground, from the edge of the petrified forest over to the first big boulder. Part of me felt like we were in some oddball sci-fi action movie, on an alien planet, trying to keep hidden from the terrifying inhabitants of the new world. But I wasn’t laughing. Because if the Demonkin caught us, we were dead meat.
The boulder was a good ten feet in diameter, and smooth, as if it had been worn down over the years by a million footsteps crossing its path. We crouched behind it for a moment as Trytian edged out, gauging whether the way was clear. And then on to the next one, which wasn’t on the path, but next to it. We darted from rock to rock, ringing the outside of the path, and I began to notice more dry clumps of long, spiky grasses as we went. The bushes were frequent, and I could smell the foliage now. The lack of greenery made what little was around stand out. The scent wasn’t unpleasant, a slightly pungent, dusky smell, like old bitter herbs.
I wondered what the scrub brush was, but my alarm bells were ringing and I knew better than to ask any unnecessary questions. We were four boulders over from the first, and Trytian suddenly froze, motioning for us to get down. We crouched in the shadow of the rock, waiting, as the sound of marching feet echoed toward us. I wanted to see what was coming along the path, but kept still—freezing into position. Demonkin had senses very different than ours, and some of them were all too astute when it came to nuances in sound or motion.
The marching grew louder, dozens of feet stomping in unison, as a cloud of dust rose up from their passing. It filtered through the air to us, and Trillian and Shade very quietly covered their noses and eyes. I realized they were trying to prevent any sneezes from happening. Another few minutes, and the marching began to fade, and then, in a little while, it vanished into the petrified forest.
Trytian slumped against the rock, Lokail beside him. He caught my gaze and—for one of the first times since we’d met him here—smiled at me. With a weary shrug, he motioned for us to follow him into the thicket of scrub brush, and before long, we were around the back side of a hill, away from the path, skirting the area.
* * *
We threaded our way through the scrub, stopping more often than we wanted. The detention center wasn’t that far away from the petrified forest, but going the long way around was tedious and every moment we had to freeze, thinking some sound was coming our way, was another moment that I found it harder not to just rush in like some fool.
Finally, we reached a point where Trytian motioned for me to come up beside Lokail and him. He nodded ahead, and I saw it. There, about three hundred feet away, beyond a patch of yellowed, spiky grass, was a building. It was carved from red stone and reminded me of an adobe structure, squat, with a flat roof. It wasn’t altogether large, so unless it had an underground section, it shouldn’t take us long to search. The main problem that I could see from here was the three guards standing atop the roof, holding bows and arrows.
Trytian waved me silent when I started to open my mouth. He motioned to two of his buddies from the back, who moved up beside him, and pointed to the guards on top of the building. They nodded and—as they moved out from behind the scrub brush—they shimmered and all I could see was a faint wave in the air where they were. The ripples in the air began to move, and I realized the daemons were on the move.
A blur, a ripple, a wave . . . that was all we could see as they moved ahead toward the building. Trillian and Shade watched over my shoulder, both looking fascinated. Whatever race of daemons they were, I had never heard of them before, and I had the feeling neither had either of my companions. Vanzir, however, just shrugged when I glanced his way.
There was a faint ripple against the side of the structure and the next moment, the daemons scaled the wall and appeared on the roof of the building, immediately attacking the guards. The moment they attacked, they appeared in full form again. But they were unevenly matched—whatever demons were atop that structure were strong as hell.
Our men managed to bring down one of them, and then a second, but then it was one-on-one as the remaining demon skewered one of our guys and he fell. The guard was shouting something when—the next moment—he had no head. The head rolled off as the daemon brought his short sword straight across in a blow that looked strong enough to slice wood.
Trytian shrugged. “We’re in for a pound . . . that cry was bound to alert others.” And he was off and running.
I leaped to my
feet, fast on his heels, and the others were only seconds behind me. We sprinted the stretch, then were suddenly at the building. The door was nearest me and I didn’t wait but yanked it open, too worried they would kill Nerissa if they knew we were coming.
The inner chamber was dim, lit by a couple of lanterns. I darted in, followed by Trytian and Shade. The others were only seconds behind us.
Inside, I was surprised that there wasn’t a contingent waiting. But then I stopped, skidding to a quick halt. Four demons stood there—I wasn’t sure what kind but one was a Tregart. The other three were also human-looking, but I knew better than to let that fool me. And around their necks, they each wore a pendant. The spirit seals. Four of them.
Trillian skidded to a halt behind me. He must have noticed right off, because he let out a slow whisper. “The spirit seals.”
I glanced around, frantic.
In the corner, in a cage behind iron bars, sat Nerissa, staring at the floor. She jerked her head up at the commotion and when she saw me, she let out a strangled note and rushed forward to the bars, grabbing hold of them and shaking them. Her eyes were wild and I realized that her inner puma was feeling trapped, captive in a way that a non-Were would never understand. Her hair was stringy, hanging down in mats, and she looked like she’d been dragged through the mud and back again.
At that moment, Jorge screamed and I whirled around, startled out of my fixation. I was just in time to see him turn to dust in front of my eyes, at the end of a stake wielded by one of the demons. Another scream, and Sandra vanished.
I sprang toward them, but Shade grabbed my arm. “Be cautious, they have stakes. Let us go in first. You work on that cage.” His eyes were blazing and he let out a roar and moved toward the demons, along with Vanzir and Trillian.
Darkness Raging Page 27
