by E.J. Stevens
“Here,” he said. “I’ll hold them still while you cut through the cocoon.”
“Have you both lost your minds?” Torn asked.
“What would you have us do, leave them here to become spider food?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, exactly. It’s the cycle of life, a beautiful thing best left alone.”
I shook my head.
“That could have been any one of us,” I said. “Hold still, we’re here to help!”
The last I yelled at the cocoon. I didn’t know if the person inside could hear me, or how far gone they were if they could, but I had to try to comfort them. Plus, I really didn’t want to risk maiming the person I was trying to save.
“You have no idea what kind of monster is inside that thing,” Torn said.
I scowled at Torn. No one deserved to be hung out like prosciutto and gobbled up by some huge spider.
“This is a hero’s path,” Ceff said. “It is highly probable that they are honorable. If not, at least we tried.”
Torn sighed and shook his head.
“Fine, it’s your funeral,” he said.
“Ready?” Ceff asked, holding the bundle as still as he could.
“I was born ready,” I said, doing my best tough guy impersonation.
I carefully cut away at the tough fibers of the cocoon. Almost there…
Thousands of baby spider fae poured out of the cocoon, skittering in every direction. Except it wasn’t a cocoon. It was an egg. I screamed—though I’d deny it if I lived long enough for Torn to tell anyone—and stumbled away from the horde of spiders. So much for my tough guy act.
I stomped on the spiders as I backed away, halting their progress. A brave one ambled forward and sank it’s dripping mandibles into its nearest kin. The other spiders followed suit, joining in the feeding frenzy.
“Oh, look, aren’t they cute?” Torn asked, pointing to where baby spiders were busy cannibalizing each other.
“Freaking adorable,” I growled.
I inched further up the trail, relieved to see that most of the spiders were too busy attacking each other to notice my retreat.
“Perhaps we should have listened to the cat sidhe, just this once,” Ceff said, whacking the more determined stragglers with his trident.
“I told you so, princess,” Torn said.
I flexed my fingers, hands itching to wring the cat sidhe’s neck and wipe that smug look off his face. Instead, I stormed past him and around the corner. I’d had it with this place and its creepy inhabitants. We needed to find Ailinn’s grave, grab a magic apple, and get the hell out of dodge.
Chapter 41
Judging by the eldritch glow coming from the burial mound in the clearing ahead of us, we’d come to the right place. The silver tree heavily laden with magic apples might also have been a hint.
“So what’s the plan?” Torn asked.
“We walk up there and pick an apple,” I said.
“Not much of a plan,” he said.
I shrugged. It’s hard to plan when you have no idea what the universe is going to throw at you, but going by my track record it was probably going to be something nasty.
“I will scout ahead,” Ceff said. “If we use every caution, then we may be able to climb the hill unnoticed.”
I doubted his assessment, but I kept my pessimism to myself.
“We’re just going to sneak up there and steal the apple?” Torn asked.
“That’s the idea,” I said.
“Well that sounds bloody boring,” he muttered.
I snorted. I’d be more than happy if this was boring.
“Sorry it’s not to your liking, Torn,” I said. “If it’s any consolation, there’s always a plan B.”
“And what’s that?” he asked.
“Stab first, ask questions later,” I said.
“I like that plan,” he said, lips lifting in a grin.
I snorted and tiptoed forward to follow Ceff, but my good humor didn’t last more than a step into the clearing. It should have been a relief to leave the wall of thorns behind. After we’d passed spider fae territory, the brambles had towered more than ten feet above our heads and the individual vines had become more aggressive. But as much as I was happy to leave the narrow tunnel of encroaching, carnivorous plants, I wasn’t thrilled at climbing the path to Ailinn’s grave.
A chill ran icy fingers up and down my spine.
“Well that looks inviting,” I muttered.
Ravens circled the mound while one industrious bird pecked at a bloated body that hung from the tree. Its attempts to pluck an eyeball from one corpse shook the tree hard enough that a second corpse fell to the ground with a meaty thud. The other birds descended with raucous cries and tore the body apart. They swallowed strips of flesh and tossed the bones to roll down the hill—to join the mass open grave of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of bodies.
“Not very homey, is it princess?” Torn asked, nudging a ribcage with the toe of his boot.
“Nope,” I said, shaking my head.
I strode forward and cringed as bones crunched like cockroaches beneath my feet. But I kept walking, a throwing knife in each hand. Ceff was scouting just ahead, using his trident to check the footing before stepping gingerly through the maze of bones. I didn’t know how he could stomach walking through this boneyard with bare feet. It was bad enough stepping on the dead while wearing thick soled boots.
I bit my lip and skirted around a skull the size of a boulder, not willing to climb over it like Ceff had done. I didn’t want to touch anything in this place. I had a nagging suspicion that all of those who died here had experienced a horrible death and that was something I didn’t need to share—not if I was going to make it out of here with my sanity intact.
I was so focused on dodging the skull that I didn’t even see the femur underfoot. In fact, it was as if the ground shook with a mini quake that threw me momentarily off balance. I hooked the femur with the toe of my boot and tripped. Heart racing, I threw out my hands hoping to brace my fall, but I couldn’t release the death grip I had on my knives. I was headed face first into the pile of nightmare infused bones…
“Whoa there, princess,” Torn said. He grabbed the back of my jacket, holding me at an angle, mere inches from the ground. “I know you’re tired, but it’s not naptime yet. Not unless you want to end up like those guys.”
Yeah, right, like I was just going to lie down and curl up with a bunch of skeletons. I scowled and got my feet under me, careful to touch as little as possible.
“Don’t worry, Torn,” I deadpanned. “I never lie down on the job.”
I forced my fingers to release their death grip on my knives, slid them back into their sheaths, brushed off my pants, and took a shaky breath.
“Good,” he said with a smirk on his face. The ground heaved again, not my imagination this time, and I spun to see what Torn was pointing at over my shoulder. “Because things finally just got interesting.”
Chapter 42
“What the hell are those things?” I asked, palming my knives.
It had been foolish to put my weapons away, even if it had only been for a measly ten seconds. In my life, that’s all the time it took for Fate to dump me in a handbasket and send me on a one way trip to somewhere fiery.
“Duergar!” Ceff yelled.
“Duergar?” I asked.
“Malicious, bloodthirsty goblins, princess,” Torn said. His slit pupil cat’s eyes flashed and his fingers extended into long, deadly looking claws. He licked his lips and grinned. “Like I said, things just got interesting.”
Great, evil goblins, just what I needed. Three of the grey skinned creatures crawled up out of the ground, coming from tunnels that emitted a faint, green glow. The tunnel entrances were cleverly camouflaged, hidden beneath piles of skeletal remains. But now that I knew they existed, I knew what to look for. I had no idea how many duergar lived in the warrens below—the barrow was large enough to house plenty of the nasty goblins—but I figu
red we’d better watch our backs.
“Uh, plan B?” I asked.
“Thought you’d never ask,” Torn said.
Ceff sidled to the right, trying to flank the duergar. He held his trident out in front of his body and he moved with liquid grace. Torn, claws extended and arms hanging loosely at his sides, padded to my left. With a blood curdling war cry, the duergar sprinted toward us, weapons held aloft.
I focused on the largest goblin, a grotesque creature with a protruding lower jaw and pustule covered lips, holding a spiked club caked with blood and gore. I breathed in and on the exhale tossed one of my throwing knives to spin end over end and sink deeply into his chest. He paused, looking down at his chest, giving Ceff the opportunity to skewer him in the back with his trident.
The duargar to my left howled as Torn raked his claws down the goblin’s face with one hand. The cat sidhe plunged his second hand into the goblin’s belly, disemboweling him in one stroke. My stomach twisted as ropey, pink intestines spilled to the ground, but I didn’t have time to puke.
I hadn’t forgotten about the smaller goblin, but he still managed to sneak up on me. He was damned fast. He grinned, close enough now to count his needle-like teeth. I tossed my second throwing knife, but it glanced off his shoulder armor without even slowing him down.
Heart racing, I grabbed a dagger from my boot and stood my ground. Running wouldn’t do me any good, not with the tangle of bones underfoot. Beady, red eyes raced toward me and I shifted my weight onto the balls of my feet. The goblin lunged, sword nearly taking off my head, but I spun left and drove the iron and silver dagger into his hip.
The goblin shrieked and came at me again. Sweat dripped into my eyes, blurring my vision and I pulled my backup dagger from its spine sheath. I nearly fell when the hilt caught on the tattered collar of my jacket—damn Fragarach to hell—but I managed to keep my feet under me and the weapon in hand.
If Jenna had taught me one thing it was never drop your weapon. The Hunter was a damned good teacher. But I couldn’t keep this up, not for long. I was already too fatigued and I was running out of weapons. I raised my dagger to block the goblin’s falling sword—and hit the ground hard.
The wind knocked out of me, I blinked trying to make sense of my new vantage point. I looked up into Ceff’s blood spattered face.
“Wha, what happened?” I asked, gasping for breath.
“Thought you could use a hand, princess,” Torn said, grinning over Ceff’s shoulder.
I could barely hear him over the beating of my heart and the constant squawking of the nearby ravens. Throughout the entire fight the birds never stopped their squabbling over carrion. Who knows, maybe they were cheering us on, waiting to eat whoever lost the fight.
“I was doing alright on my own,” I said.
“Yeah, well, thanks for keeping this one busy,” he said.
He held up a gore covered head. I shivered recognizing the red, beady eyes and needle sharp teeth of my attacker. I may not like to admit it, but that had been close. Too close.
Ceff stood and pulled me up with him, looking me over from head to toe. I couldn’t help but do the same. His bare chest was splattered with blood, but it didn’t look like any of it was his.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yes, though you nearly gave me a heart attack,” he said. “I did not think that I would reach you in time.”
“I never doubted you for a second,” I whispered in his ear.
He smiled and my stomach tightened, warmth spreading through my body. I shook my head and smiled back. Ceff was dead sexy, even covered in gore.
“Come on, let’s blow this popsicle stand,” I said, voice ringing loudly in the silence.
Panic spun up through me as the realization hit—the ravens had gone silent as the grave. I tilted my head up to see a woman beckoning to us from the top of the burial mound. This was it, the end of the line. I just hoped Ailinn would be more hospitable than the duergar. Ceff raised an eyebrow and I nodded.
I kept my eyes on the woman, Ailinn I presumed, retrieved my weapons, and hurried up the hill. With Torn at my back I strode forward, following Ceff up the gore strewn path. I swayed on my feet, but I kept putting one foot in front of the other until we stood beneath the silver apple tree.
The ravens watched from where they’d perched on the hanging bodies and skeletal, silver tree branches and I stifled a shiver.
“The king and the would-be queen,” Ailinn said. “As it was prophesized, as it was written, as it was seen.”
This chick was the first ghost I’d ever seen—in fact, I thought ghosts were a fiction created by delusional humans with overactive imaginations—but she definitely fit the bill. Her spectral form wavered above the grave, eyes dark pits in a face sad and forlorn, and her words were creepy as hell.
“Are you Ailinn?” I asked.
The ghost nodded and tilted her head to the side. It wasn’t a human gesture, not at all. She reminded me of old vamps, the ones who had been undead so long that they’d forgotten what it was like to be alive.
“Then I have a message for you, from Manannán mac Lir,” I said. She hissed, but I continued on. I’d made a promise to deliver the message. I flicked my eyes to the bodies dangling from the tree behind her and swallowed hard. I just hoped she didn’t decide to hang the messenger. “He said to tell you that someday he will be worthy of your forgiveness.”
Tears oozed down her face to hit the ground like clots of congealed blood.
“He waits for me?” she asked.
“He’s the guardian of this island…” I said. “I assumed you knew that.”
“You know what they say about assuming, princess,” Torn said. “It makes an ass out of…”
“Shut it, Torn,” I said with a growl.
Oberon’s eyes, that cat would be the death of me. Thankfully, Ailinn was too busy processing my message to take offense to Torn’s snarky comments.
“I thought…I thought he was dead,” she said. “I could not live without Manannán, so I took my own life, so that we may join together in the afterlife. But I could not find him, he did not come.”
“I don’t think he ever left,” I said.
“I assumed he did not love me,” she said.
I glared at Torn and he stifled a giggle.
“True love endures all things,” Ceff said. “Even death.”
A chill ran up my spine and I grabbed his hand. Even with my gloves on, it wasn’t like me to be all touchy feely, but his words made me want to hold him close, and never let go.
The ghost smiled and began to fade.
“Hurry,” she said. “Take the apples. You will need them for the trials that lay ahead.”
She held out her hands, pointing to the silver apples hanging behind her. I pulled a drawstring bag from my jacket pocket and held it open. I plucked an apple from the tree, and as the apple dropped into the bag, Ailinn disappeared. But I could hear her voice ringing in my ears.
Now go, leave this place and never return.
“Um, princess?” Torn asked.
The ground shook and the silver tree began to wither. Apples rotted and fell to the ground as if caught on time lapse film. Ailinn’s ghost was gone, finally able to leave this place. I was happy for her, but I had a bad feeling that she had been the sustaining force of this island. Without her spirit here to hold it together, Emain Ablach was falling apart.
Torn reached for a shadow, plucking it from where it hid beneath a shifting pile of bones. On impulse, I grabbed one of the half rotten apples from the ground and tossed it into the bag. I didn’t know if the rotten apple had any magic left, probably not, but it was worth a shot. You never know when you’ll need an ace, or an apple, up your sleeve.
“Let us breathe this popsicle stand,” Ceff said.
Torn pulled the shadow around us, preparing for our return trip to Harborsmouth, but I laughed hard, tears springing to my eyes.
“It’s blow,” I wheezed. “Let’s blow thi
s popsicle stand.”
I wrapped an arm around my stomach, body shaking with laughter. Ceff and Torn looked at me like I was nuts, but, hey, with a life as crazy as mine, you take pleasure in the little things.
Chapter 43
We appeared in a different alley than the one we’d left from, thank Mab. That was good thinking on Torn’s part. When we traveled to Emain Ablach, we’d left behind a firing squad of fae assassins. I was happy not to be going toe-to-toe with the Moordenaar, not while shivering from fatigue and a case of the giggles.
A glance at what was left of my leather jacket was enough to stop my laughter dead in its tracks. The leather was stiff and crusted with white rings of salt from my dip in the corpse filled sea of Emain Ablach. The collar was sliced where Manannán mac Lir had held Fragarach the Answerer to my throat. There were holes big enough to put my fist through where the leather had been eaten away by spider venom and I was dripping goblin blood all over the cracked pavement at our feet.
A sound escaped my lips that sounded suspiciously like a sob.
“Here, let me clean you off,” Ceff said.
Ceff’s eyes glowed faintly as he used his water magic to pull moisture from the air. I held myself rigid as water flowed over me, washing away the worst of the blood and gore. But nothing could ever wash me clean. My lungs tightened and it hurt to breathe.
I forced a deep breath and closed my eyes. I was shutting out the reality of my battle ragged clothing, but the feelings that held my chest in a vice stemmed from more than a ruined jacket.
I’d killed spider fae and duergar today without a second thought. Sure, they were vicious killers themselves, but they were living, breathing creatures. When had taking lives become so easy?
“Better?” he asked.
I nodded and looked away. It was a relief not having to worry about touching my own clothes without risking a vision, but that wasn’t the reason I was on the verge of tears. I wanted to explain that to Ceff, unload some of the guilt that was bubbling to the surface, but I couldn’t trouble him with that now. Because if I started, I didn’t think I could stop—and this wasn’t the time or place to fall apart.
