The Gatekeeper's Trials: The Complete Trilogy

by Emma L. Adams

  Turning right, I ran smack into Darrow. “Hazel, you have to leave.”

  I swore. “The Seelie Queen told me her conspirators are on their way here right now. What the hell are you doing? Come to gloat?”

  “No,” he said. “You should know, I warned your mother not to come through the gate, but she insisted on making sure you were safe. As for me, I came here to ask the Sidhe to reconsider her sentence, but more beasts broke through the Vale opening in the Erlking’s territory before the Sidhe were able to close it.”

  A tremendous roar rattled the whole building. Vale beasts. They’d come here to help their Queen break out.

  Not on my watch.

  I ran past Darrow and towards the doors, which lay open. Further down the path, the Sidhe guards did battle with a huge troll. Its knuckles and feet were covered in crudely stitched gloves tipped with metal spikes. Iron. While it was big and dull-minded like most trolls, even a graze from iron would severely incapacitate any Sidhe. Including Darrow.

  A Sidhe warrior ducked under the troll’s arm, spear twirling and piercing its fleshy upper arm. Blood sprayed from its grey skin, but the blade remained stuck. Iron punched the Sidhe’s armoured chest, sending him flying back a good ten metres. Two more Sidhe lay crumpled in pools of blood, their armour crushed and their silky hair matted with gore.

  “Stay back!” I warned. “I’m gonna take it out.”

  I ran closer to the troll, my weapon at the ready. One swift thrust snagged its wrist but didn't break the skin. Its arms were thick as tree trunks, its skin tougher even than the illusion Darrow has conjured. The Vale had honed it into a vicious killing machine—bigger, sharper, and equipped with lethal iron.

  Darrow ran to my side to help, his blade in his hand.

  “I meant you, too,” I said. “That’s iron, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “It can crush your skull as easily as mine.” He moved in a blur, slicing at the beast’s thighs. The troll bellowed in pain. The iron must be hurting it, but trolls were low-magic and could still fight while impaired. If anything, the agony had only made this one more pissed off.

  Thrusting upwards, I skidded underneath the troll’s outstretched arm and caught the metal braces on the edge of my blade. Then I grabbed the underside of its wrist and propelled myself onto its arm. The beast tried to shake me off, but the chains prevented it from moving its arms high enough to grab me. Under the iron, layers of skin peeled off, flecked with blood.

  Climbing onto its shoulder, I thrust the spear I'd stolen clean through its throat. Blood slid in rivulets from the wound, and the troll let out a gurgling cry. Several Sidhe jumped aside from its body as its knees hit the earth. I leapt to the ground, hurrying to Darrow’s side.

  “I have to get my mother out, Darrow,” I said. “While the Sidhe are distracted. I won’t get another chance.”

  Then we’d really be on their shit list, but I couldn’t bring myself to give a crap. I’d make sure the people I loved were safe first and worry about the rest later.

  “I can’t promise they won’t come after you, but I can buy you time.” He approached the fallen Sidhe, who had begun to gather the injured and dead, while I ran back into the jail.

  An unconscious guard lay outside Mum’s vacant cell, bearing the unmistakable imprint of one of Mum’s brutal punches on his face. Had she been planning an escape from the start? If so, it would have been nice if she’d clued me in on it. I hadn’t the faintest idea where she’d run off to, but I had to trust she’d make it out of the Court in one piece.

  I backed out of the jail and snapped my fingers at the small group of surviving Sidhe. “Pull yourselves together and get more guards outside that jail before you have worse than a troll on your hands.”

  I didn’t see Ilsa or the others, but they’d likely be back at the ambassadors’ palace. As the Sidhe began to argue with one another, I ran into the forest, leaving the jail behind. Darrow caught me up on the path, falling into step alongside me.

  “You should have stayed,” I told him. “They need someone with sense to help them out.”

  “I’m more concerned with the intruders,” he said. “Your mother wasn’t in the jail?”

  “She ran for it. I don’t blame her.” I shook my head. “Mum probably won’t be at home, not with the Sidhe watching out for her, but my sister is back at the ambassadors’ palace with the gate.”

  We moved swiftly through the trees, the haunting cries of the sluagh forming a chilling backdrop. Both of us kept our weapons out, but we didn’t encounter a single person until we came to the ambassadors’ palace. Outside stood two Sidhe: Lady Aiten and Lord Veren. I beckoned to Darrow and we veered down another path to where Ilsa stood next to the gate to the Lynn house, arguing with Lord Raivan.

  “That’s my home,” she was saying. “I live on the other side of that gate. I need to get back to—”

  “Lord Raivan,” I said. “Vale beasts just attacked the jail, and they’re working for the Seelie Queen. More might be on their way here. I’d focus on that, not my family’s gate.”

  “It’s the truth,” added Darrow. “I was there. Hazel needs to leave before the killer targets her next.”

  “Uh, no she doesn’t,” I said. “I’m going after the—”

  “Hazel,” Ilsa said, her eyes on Lord Veren. “That guy? He’s dead.”

  Everyone turned her way, then to Lord Veren, who gave a slow blink, not speaking a word. Despite the shiny veneer of his glamour, there was something oddly still about the angles of his face and the green light of his eyes.

  Ilsa’s spirit sight allowed her to see souls. It never steered her wrong. Not even in Faerie.

  How can he be dead? He's still breathing.

  One breathes without life…

  He was one of the conspirators.

  “Lady Aiten,” I said. “Step away from that man.”

  In the same instant, Lord Veren’s glamour fell away, revealing a face ravaged with scars, rotting strips of skin peeling away. His blade made a snick sound as it plunged into Lady Aiten’s chest.

  Lady Aiten gave a startled gasp, then fell to the ground. Lord Veren withdrew his blade in a smooth motion, his face expressionless. Lord Raivan lunged at him, but Lord Veren blocked Lord Raivan’s strike with ease. Two quick slashes later and Lord Raivan fell back, bleeding heavily from his right arm. Lord Veren retained his supernatural speed, despite his condition. How is that possible? He was dead—still breathing, but no longer alive…

  He must have touched the Erlking’s talisman. Its magic somehow allowed him to exist in that ghastly half-alive condition, rotting from the inside and outside alike.

  Magic sprang to my palms and slammed into Lord Veren in a whirl of green energy. Ilsa ran to my side to help out, and Darrow’s blade met his with a jarring crash. My heart climbed into my throat, watching him and Lord Veren struggle against one another. When Lord Veren went on the offensive, I conjured magic to my hands and struck him from behind. He seemed to feel no pain, and my attack fizzled out without doing any damage.

  The Sidhe’s knife flashed, sinking deep into Darrow’s chest. A gasp tore from my lungs. No.

  Lord Veren withdrew his blade. “Find me in the Vale, Gatekeeper.”

  He turned and walked away, leaving Darrow bleeding at my feet. He groaned, thick blood pulsing from the wound in his chest. He’d die if I didn’t get him to a healer.

  “River!” Ilsa shouted. “We need help!”

  River came through the gate to the palace, his eyes widening at the sight of the fallen Sidhe. “Who did this?”

  “Lord Veren,” said Ilsa. “He was the traitor, and I think the Erlking’s talisman turned him into some kind of zombie. We need a healer.”

  “I can’t use my magic to heal others,” said River, white-faced. “I’ll fetch my father.”

  Lord Raivan stirred, his face ashen, but his wounds weren’t deep. He’d live. Lady Aiten, however, had fallen unconscious. And Darrow…

  “The gr
ove,” I said to Ilsa. “I have to take him there.”

  “Mum would kill you,” said Ilsa, biting her lip. “And the enemy might be behind the gate.”

  I glanced down at Darrow. He’d gone icy pale, but his eyes flickered open when I crouched beside him. “You’re not going to die, do you hear me?”

  His voice was a low rasp. “Call my sprite, Hummingbird. He’ll get me to a healer.”

  The magic in the grove could heal any injury, but Ilsa was right—the enemy might well be waiting on the other side of the gate. If I wanted to save Darrow, I had to get him out of here. I was damned if I lost anyone else.

  I stood, calling out, “Hummingbird, I need your help. Darrow—"

  Before I finished speaking, a sprite appeared above Darrow’s inert body. Ilsa shouted my name, but a torrent of light descended, bearing us away into oblivion.

  19

  I blinked, disorientated, and found myself crouched on an earthen floor. The sprite flew around Darrow’s prone body, making agitated noises. The packed earth forming the domed ceiling and the tunnel-like corridors branching outwards put me in mind of the Gatekeepers’ training grounds. The luminescent fungi glowing in clusters on the walls and floor, not so much.

  Where the hell are we?

  Before I could quite get a grip on my senses, several fae ran into the room. Sidhe, judging by their vibrant green eyes, but their plain black-and-green attire was unfamiliar to me, as were their carved weapons.

  I rose to my feet. “I didn’t hurt him. Darrow’s sprite brought us here because he's dying. He needs a healer.”

  A sharp voice from behind the Sidhe said, “Take care of him. I will deal with the Gatekeeper.”

  The Sidhe parted to allow the speaker to pass through: a female Sidhe with ivory-white hair dressed in armoured clothing in rich shades of brown and green and marked with jewelled studs like twinkling stars. As I took in the angles of her face, her glamour struck me like a solid blow, knocking the breath from my lungs.

  “Have you no voice, Gatekeeper?”

  I licked my dry lips. “I'm sorry, but I have no idea where I am.”

  “You are in the realm of the Aes Sidhe, and I am Etaina. Come with me, Hazel Lynn.”

  The Aes Sidhe? No wonder Darrow had been so tight-lipped on the subject of his Court. They were supposed to have died out before the Erlking had even taken Summer’s throne.

  My legs moved jerkily as I walked after the Sidhe woman into the tunnel, down a narrow passage lit by more luminous groups of bright fungi, and through a wooden door into a surprisingly modern-looking office. My eyes took in the elegant wooden furniture, the carved desk, the bookshelves, but my brain refused to process the woman in front of me.

  “I thought the Aes Sidhe died out,” I said. “Centuries ago.”

  “It’s easier for us to let the rest of Faerie believe that,” said Etaina. “We broke from the main Courts countless years ago.”

  Holy shit. From the way she spoke, it sounded like she’d been alive then. That made her as old as the Erlking himself.

  “Why did you send Darrow to Summer, then? As a spy?”

  “I suspect you know that already.” She gave me an appraising look. “You put me in a difficult position, Gatekeeper. No outsider has crossed our boundaries in a long time, and Darrow swore to tell nobody of this place.”

  “He didn’t break his word,” I said. “He told me to call his sprite to bring him to be healed. The traitor who killed the Erlking stabbed him, and he wouldn't have survived if he hadn’t come here.”

  Etaina’s lips thinned. “I told him not to interfere in Court affairs. I should have guessed the Gatekeeper would force him to do otherwise.”

  “Whoa.” I raised my hands, still soaked in Darrow’s blood. “I didn’t force him to do a thing, and besides, I’m not Gatekeeper yet. How can I get back into the Court from here?”

  “You’ll leave when I say so, Gatekeeper,” she said. “Many would prefer not to let you leave at all.”

  “That would be inconvenient.” Not that the Sidhe would be falling over themselves to send a rescue party after the chaos I’d left behind in the Court, but the last thing I needed was to perish in some unfamiliar Court below the earth. “I saved Darrow’s life. You’re his queen, right?”

  She turned to me, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “Tell me how Darrow came to be injured.”

  “The Erlking was murdered by an assassin, which I imagine he's probably told you,” I said. “The killer opened several gateways into the Grey Vale in the Summer Court. When we caught one of the conspirators, Darrow fought him and was stabbed in the process.”

  “I find it hard to believe that my ambassador would fall so easily.”

  “He didn't.” Did she even know about the Erlking’s talisman? The last thing I needed was this secret Court taking the side of the enemy. “His adversary used magic to make himself unable to feel pain.”

  Her gaze sharpened.” The assassin took the Erlking’s talisman.”

  “You know—?”

  “Of course I know,” she said. “It is, in part, the reason the Aes Sidhe split from Summer. I know its magic well.”

  Shit. How could that be possible? Even the current generations of Sidhe didn’t know the truth about the talisman—or they hadn’t, until his death. She must be from the same generation which had fought the old gods, banished them from Faerie, and claimed their magic. Which made her far older than the Gatekeepers.

  “Then…” I curled my bloodied hands into fists. “I know you don’t like my family, though I don’t understand why, but if there’s anything you can tell me about how to fight against the Erlking’s talisman, it might save a lot of lives.”

  The Erlking had had to live in isolation for his entire reign order to keep the talisman’s magic from harming the rest of the Court, and as far as I knew, it couldn’t be destroyed. The Erlking would have known that if the Court had abandoned the talisman in the land of the outcasts, anyone might have been able to steal it and use it against the Court. He’d been backed into a corner, and I had no doubt he’d tried every alternative before claiming its magic as his own.

  Etaina’s bright green eyes brightened, and tendrils of magic brushed against me, alien and sharp. I held still, my heart hammering, as the threads of magic touched the symbol on my forehead.

  The breath punched from my lungs, and a wave of cold terror washed over me as images of yawning chasms and starless skies flashed before my eyes. Her magic, like Darrow’s, might well be exempt from my protective shield—and had the power to remake reality however she saw fit.

  She could make me worship her, bow down and serve her for the rest of my existence.

  “So it’s true,” she murmured, half to herself. “The Gatekeepers’ magic endures.”

  “What…?” I forced out the words. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your vow remains intact, even with the Erlking’s passing and his wife’s betrayal,” she mused.

  “Yes…” The knot in my chest loosened a fraction when the tendrils of magic lifted from my forehead. “What does it matter to you? Didn’t you leave the Court before my ancestor even set foot in Faerie?”

  “The tale is well known among my people,” she said. “The tale of Thomas Lynn, a human who wormed his way into the realm of the Sidhe and stole their magic.”

  My mouth parted. “That’s not the story I grew up with. Thomas Lynn was kidnapped by a Sidhe and tricked into signing his entire family into a lifetime of servitude to the Courts.”

  Darrow had thought I’d volunteered for the job. That I’d wanted the faeries’ power. It was starting to make sense where he’d learned it.

  “Etaina.” Darrow’s hoarse voice came from outside the door. “Let Hazel leave. She has no quarrel with us.”

  “Darrow.” My heart jumped in my chest. He leaned against the door frame, his face pale and streaked with blood, but the wound was no longer bleeding, and his gaze was steady. “You shouldn't be
walking.”

  “Hazel,” he rasped. “Thank you for saving my life.”

  “See?” I gave Etaina a pointed look. “I don’t want to fight you. I need to get back to the Court and get that talisman away from the enemy. I don’t expect you’ll ever see me again, so if you won’t help me, please—let me go.”

  Darrow drew himself upright. “I will go after her as soon as I am able. For now, I would advise you to aid her goal. The Court can ill afford to lose a Gatekeeper as well as a king.”

  He was asking her to help me? Accepting help from a strange Sidhe was a great way to end up entangled in a blood debt, but I had no chance of getting that talisman back alone. Not without ending up the same way as Lord Kerien.

  “I will see if my fellow Sidhe agree,” she said. “You go with Darrow, Gatekeeper.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but Darrow swayed unsteadily against the door frame, prompting me to take his arm. “You won’t be following me back to the Court in this state.”

  “The healing spell’s effects will kick in soon,” he said. “My wounds have already sealed.”

  So they had. The vicious stab wound had vanished, though his shirt was soaked through with blood. “At least go and lie down somewhere.”

  He turned right and walked down the corridor. Since I had no idea how to get out of this place, I followed his lead, until he halted at a wooden door, pushing it open to reveal a sitting room lit by clouds of glittering fireflies hovering below the earthen ceiling.

  Darrow peeled off his bloodied shirt, then walked through a door into the neighbouring room. The sound of running water came through, and I glimpsed a bathroom with modern features behind the door.

  “Do you live here?” I asked.

  “This is the only place we’re unlikely to be disturbed.”

  “Look, Darrow,” I said, “I’m no use hanging around here while my siblings are stuck in Faerie, my mother is on the run, and the Summer Court is under attack.”

  “The Sidhe should have sealed the entrances to the Vale by now,” he said.