by Anthea Sharp
“Here.” Tam held out a basket. “Put them inside and rest a second. I’ll take it up to the edge of the archway.”
She placed everything in the basket, then wiped the stickiness off her hands with her damp skirt. The usual weariness from summoning twined around her, making her arms feel heavy.
“Do you think it’s going to be enough?” she asked.
“If I were a hungry troll under a bridge, this would be a feast. Throw in a pizza or two, and an army could cross over - even if everything’s banana flavored.”
“Hopefully it’s not too picky about taste.” She pressed her lips together and watched as Tam carried the basket up to the shadowy arch.
“Hey, troll,” he said, setting their offering of food down. “We’d like safe passage over your bridge. Here’s a little something for you to eat.”
There was no response. Had they been wrong?
“Try again,” Jennet said. “Maybe it’s sleeping.”
He raised his voice and repeated the words. This time, there was movement in the dark recesses. Tam slowly backed up until he was standing beside her. He pulled his sword from his sheath with a low hiss.
A large, pasty-looking hand reached out from the shadows. It seized the basket, thick yellow fingernails curving around the handle, and drew it under the bridge. Jennet caught a glimpse of a doughy face and a mouthful of long, pointed teeth.
There was a chewing noise, and then a low sigh, like wind over stone.
“You may pass,” the creature under the bridge rasped.
“Quick,” Tam murmured, taking her arm and pulling her up to the embankment. “We don’t want it to change its mind.”
They hurried across the bridge, following the stone blocks stretching over the bog. With every step, the back of Jennet’s neck prickled. Halfway across, the bridge shivered. The troll was getting restless.
“Faster,” she whispered to Tam. “I don’t want to be dessert.” It was too easy to imagine that yellow-nailed hand reaching up and grabbing her ankles.
She and Tam sprinted the last few feet to safety as the bridge gave a final shudder. Then she looked up, and blinked in surprise.
The landscape had shifted while they traveled across the bridge, the rough-hewn stones of their path giving way to a dirt road bounded by low rock walls. The bog lay shrouded in mist behind them, while ahead, fields stitched the countryside. The setting sun was caught in the clouds.
“Sunset,” Tam said, nodding at the rays slanting red across the sky. “What does that mean?”
“It means we’re not as deep in as we were.” She let out a low, shaky breath.
“Is that a good thing?”
“It depends. If we complete another quest at this level, the next ring will lead us closer to the Court. But we have to find somebody to give us one, soon.”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his forearm. “So, where does this road go?”
“I’m not sure.” She glanced at the winding lane ahead. “Nothing seems familiar.”
“I guess we follow it and find out,” Tam said. “Stay close.”
“Hey! I’m not the one who wandered off into the forest.”
“We still have to stick together.” He lifted one eyebrow. “A team, remember?”
Despite the seriousness of their situation, Tam was always more relaxed in-game. It made her smile a little, inside.
It didn’t take long before the road dipped into a valley. At the bottom was a standing stone, a huge sentinel at least thirty feet high, gilded red by the setting sun. The wind lilted around them, almost a melody.
And then it was a melody - a sweet plucking of strings, the humming of a baritone voice.
Tam stopped. “Do you hear that? Is it more wisps?”
“It’s not wisps.” Shading her eyes with one hand, she squinted down the lane. There was a figure seated at the base of the stone, playing the guitar. Her heart gave a lurch. “Oh god. I think it’s…”
She leaned forward into a tilting run, her legs pushing hard against the earth while her pulse hammered through her. It couldn’t be. And yet, in Feyland, who could say what was possible?
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Wait!” Tam called from behind her. “Who is it?”
As she hurtled down the road, the man set aside his guitar and rose. He opened his arms and she flew into them.
“Thomas!” Tears ran salty into her mouth. She clung to him, her father’s old friend, so familiar despite the odd clothes he wore. “I can’t believe it. You’re all right.”
“Well, now.” He gave her a final squeeze, then set her back at arm’s length. “You might want to tell your friend with the blade not to chop off my head.”
Jennet whirled to see Tam running toward them, his sword gleaming at the ready. “Tam, wait! This is a friend.” She couldn’t stop crying.
“Really. You don’t look too happy about it.” He didn’t sheathe his weapon.
She pulled her sleeve across her face, trying to dry her eyes. “Tam Linn.” Her voice still wobbled. “Let me introduce you to Thomas. Thomas Rimer.”
Tam’s expression went wary. “Wait a minute. Isn’t that the programmer - the guy you said died?”
“But he didn’t!” She turned to Thomas. “You’re here. We have to get you out of Feyland and back into the real world.”
“Jennet, stop.” Thomas’s voice was full of sorrow. “There is no return for me.”
“What? Of course there is.” She grabbed his arm. It was solid, real.
Thomas shook his head. “I’m the Queen’s Bard now. I made a bargain with her, and it cannot be broken. I belong to the Court.”
“What do you mean?” But there was a chill in her stomach. She knew how it felt to lose a part of herself to the queen. Had Thomas given away everything?
“We could help you get free,” Tam said, sliding his sword back into the scabbard.
“My thanks,” Thomas said. “But even if you could break the bonds that hold me here, I have no form in your world to return to. My body is gone, is it not? I left it behind when I followed the queen’s call.”
“But…” Jennet swallowed hard against the grief shaking through her. How could she have found Thomas here, only to lose him again?
“So,” Tam said, “You don’t really exist?”
Thomas gave him a weary smile. “What is real? What is illusion? Am I just a memory conjured from Jennet’s mind? Am I a wayward bit of programming, hidden deep inside a computer game? Am I one of the fey-folk now? It is for you to decide - and there may be no true answer.”
“But… I’ll never see you again?” Jennet tried not to wail the words.
“Of course you will.” Thomas ruffled her hair in an old, familiar gesture. “I will help you in every way I can. But tell me. What month is it, what day, in your world?”
“October nineteenth,” Tam said. “Why?”
Worry creased the bard’s forehead. “The days grow short - but there is still time.”
“Time for what?” Jennet asked. “What’s going on?”
“Come sit with me,” Thomas said. “I will tell you what I know.”
He took up his guitar, and then leaned against the weathered standing stone. Bits of melody drifted around them as he strummed the strings, coaxed free by his nimble fingers.
Jennet sank down beside him, but Tam remained standing in the middle of the road, his arms crossed. Thomas continued to play, as if there was nothing urgent or remarkable about the situation - two kids in the middle of a computer game, talking to a man five weeks dead.
“Tam, come on.” Jennet frowned at him. “Don’t you want to hear this?”
“It is better if he does,” Thomas said, still strumming his guitar. “I cannot speak loudly, in case someone, or something, is listening.”
“Fine.” Tam stalked over to them. His green eyes were wary as he glanced at Thomas.
The older man nodded. “It’s good that you have such a champion, Jennet. You’re going to need every b
it of his courage in order to win free of the Dark Queen. And you must do so - before the end of the month.”
“But why?”
“Samhain.” Thomas played a minor chord, and Jennet shivered at the sound. “The faeries remember when they could pass freely in and out of the mortal realm, making mischief, taking lovers, sowing ill deeds and magic in their wake. The Dark Queen has promised them that time will come again.”
“So, what happens at the end of October?” Tam asked. Then he shook his head. “You’re kidding me. This is some cheap horror vid isn’t it? Something creepy happens on Halloween?”
“It is much older and deeper than that,” Thomas said. “All Hallow’s Eve is a time when the walls between the worlds grow thin. The time when a gateway to the human world could be opened. Under the right circumstances.”
“What circumstances?” Jennet asked, swallowing the fear climbing up her throat. She was afraid she already knew the answer.
“A tiend.” Thomas’s voice was sober.
“English, please,” Tam said.
“A sacrifice,” Jennet whispered. “And… I’m it.” She turned to Thomas, suddenly cold to her bones. “Aren’t I?”
He nodded, his eyes infinitely weary, infinitely sad. “The Realm of Faerie is dying. It’s slow, almost invisible, but the rulers of the courts know it is happening. They cannot survive without an infusion of human energy.”
“Energy?” she asked. “Is that what the Dark Queen took from me?”
“And is taking. You must feel it, Jennet, the slow drain on your soul. That is the faeries’ need.”
“Right.” Tam folded his arms. “The computer game is stealing Jennet’s energy. Faeries and dead guys and sacrifices. Come on, Jennet, this isn’t Thomas. It’s some broken NPC.”
“Wait.” She glared at him. “We need to hear this, to figure out what’s going on.” She focused back on Thomas. “So, the faeries are some kind of psychic vampires? I don’t remember reading anything about that.”
Thomas kept strumming his guitar, the chords a soft backdrop to his voice. “These are desperate times for them, Jennet. And human energy can mean many things. A dream. A prank. A maiden’s kiss, a bowl of milk, a stolen child. Music. And sometimes, a life.”
“I don’t believe this.” Tam pushed away from them and began pacing. “I mean - this is just a game. A computer program. Stuff like that doesn’t happen in the real world.”
Thomas followed him with a sad gaze. “But this isn’t the real world, is it? The between-places have always been the province of the faeries. Dusk and dawn. The cross-quarters of the year. Why not the space we call virtual reality? It’s as between a place as you will find. Real, but not real. You are here, but not quite here. And here does not quite exist.”
His words fell like stones into a dark pool. Jennet could see them rippling inside Tam. He was smart - surely he would see that Thomas was right.
The red sun touched the horizon, and a sound echoed across the fields - a low, mournful call that sent a shiver through Jennet.
Tam whirled. “What was that?”
“The summoning horn of the Wild Hunt,” Thomas said. “They will ride at dusk, and the two of you must be gone from here.” He stepped away from the tall stone and slung his guitar over his back.
“What about you?” Jennet grabbed his hand. She wasn’t ready to let Thomas go again, so soon.
“Do not worry for me.” He smiled down at her. “As the Queen’s Bard, I will come to no harm. But you and your knight must make haste.”
“I can’t leave you,” Jennet said.
“You must.” Thomas squeezed her hand, then turned and pointed. “Follow the road east until you reach a stand of white trees. The passage to the next ring is there. And Tam Linn - follow your heart, and keep your lady safe. Now, go.”
Before Jennet could say goodbye, Tam grabbed her arm and pulled her down the road. She twisted, waving to Thomas, but the sun was in her eyes. All she could see was a shadow beside the standing stone.
“Come on,” Tam said. “Your crazy friend said we needed to hurry.”
To underscore his words, the deep horn sounded again. The last bit of light was caught on the crests of the stone walls. Soon it would be twilight. And the Wild Hunt would be after them.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Tam kept his grip on Jennet’s arm, kept her moving forward. That was some insane stuff going on back there. The ‘dead’ programmer… he wasn’t sure he believed it, that someone could get sucked into a game like that. And the dark faeries creating some kind of gateway into the human world by sacrificing Jennet? Totally crazy.
Yet it all made a kind of creepy, convoluted sense. He needed time to think.
Right now, though, they needed to get out of Feyland.
“Jennet - what is the Wild Hunt?”
“It’s a ghostly gathering of huntsmen and hounds. According to legend, if you see them you either go crazy or die.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “I don’t know what happens if they catch us.”
“We’re not sticking around to find out.”
The last bit of light slipped out of the sky. In the distance behind them, he heard a series of excited yips, then the baying of hounds. The worst part was, he understood the cries. Scent! Blood! Our prey! The Hunt was on their trail.
“Now, we run,” he said.
He let go of Jennet’s arm and took her hand. He didn’t think she’d turn around and try to go back to Thomas, but no way was he letting her fall behind. Thomas’s last words repeated in his head, matching the pace of his running steps, the push of breath through his lungs. Keep your lady safe. Lady safe.
She wasn’t his lady, of course - except in the sense that he was a knight, and her in-game champion. Or something. But no matter what, he would keep her safe.
Maybe the faeries were planning to use her life to open a gateway between the worlds. His blood chilled at the thought. No way did he want the creatures in-game showing up in the real world. Games weren’t fun if you couldn’t turn them off.
“Slow… down,” Jennet panted.
“We can’t.” He scanned the edge of the road. “Do you see anything that looks like white trees?”
A sound like far-off thunder rolled through the air. Tam looked behind them. There was a growing darkness in the sky. Shapes, forming out of the clouds. But these weren’t the kinds of things kids saw in clouds - no dinosaurs or cartoon faces. These were spectral hounds with huge, shining eyes, and half-human figures on galloping black horses. And at the front, the leader of the hunt, a huge dark figure with antlers spiking up above his head. The Huntsman turned and Tam felt his attention focus on them, like a spear of black ice.
The entire Wild Hunt was visible now, a dozen mounted figures riding hard toward them. He could see the flash of hooves, the glowing eyes of the hounds. Panic pushed him and Jennet forward. The breath rasped in and out of his throat. Trees - where were the damn trees? There! A scatter of white up ahead marked the grove.
He risked another look behind them, and then wished he hadn’t. The hounds were too close, tongues hanging from their mouths, black paws eating up the distance. He and Jennet weren’t going to make it.
He let go of her hand and turned to face the hunt. Fear and adrenaline pumped through him as he drew his sword. If he made a stand, slowed the hunt for even a minute, she could get away.
“Go!” he shouted. “I’ll hold them off.”
“No. Not without you.” She stopped running and doubled back to stand with him.
“Jennet!”
“Together or nothing, Tam.”
There was no more time for arguing - the Hunt was upon them. Tam pointed his sword at the nearest hound, waiting for it to get in striking range. The wind whipped Jennet’s pale hair around her face and she raised her staff. She gestured, and a searing white light flashed out from where they stood, making Tam wince.
The hounds yelped and tumbled and the riders milled confusedly, but Tam could feel
the Huntsman’s attention still fastened on them.
“Come on! That will only hold them for a minute.” Jennet grabbed his shoulder and they sprinted into the shelter of the trees.
The white bark glowed softly, lighting their way. They dodged around the trunks, and finally, finally stumbled into the faerie-ring clearing. Nothing had ever looked as good as the circle of mushrooms before them.
Jennet leaped into the center, but before Tam could follow, something took hold of his leg and yanked. Pain slammed through his senses and he glanced down to see a coal-black hound, its teeth locked around his calf. He pulled his sword and slashed at the hound, who twisted its body out of the way.
“Tam!” Jennet cried.
She had her staff pointed at his attacker, but he didn’t think she could get a clear shot - not with the way the creature was shaking and pulling at him. He cut downward again, connecting this time. The hound let out a muffled yelp, but didn’t let go.
On the outskirts of the trees, dark figures were silhouetted. Then the leader strode forward, the shadow of his antlers reaching toward Tam. Fear seized him in its strong fist.
He took his sword in both hands and drove it down, point-first. There was a spray of something hot and sickening across his face, and the hound let go with a screeching whimper.
“Hurry!” Jennet’s voice was high and panicky.
He scrambled to the ring, his left leg not quite working. Jennet reached for him with both hands and he managed to get inside without trampling any of the mushrooms.
An angry cry resonated through the clearing. Just before the swirl of golden light surrounded them, Tam saw the Huntsman. His cloak billowed out and his antlered helm was lit with an eerie light. The figure lifted one hand and pointed at them, but it was too late. The Wild Hunt’s prey had escaped.
# # #
“Ow!” Tam tried to pull his leg away, but Jennet held him firmly. He slouched back on the gaming-room couch and tried not to look at the bloody bite in his leg.
“Hold still. We have to disinfect this.” Jennet swiped again at the punctures, and he tried not to flinch.
Good thing she’d had an emergency kit in her bathroom. Of course, this was the kind of house that would be well-stocked for any eventuality. A bite from a nightmare hound? No problem. He sucked in his breath as she poked at his injury.
