The Resistance: The Fourth Book of the Fey (Fey Series)

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  The faint smell of dog continued, but over it was a danker odor, one he associated with the days of the first Fey invasion.

  Rot.

  The inside of this barn smelled faintly of rot.

  A shudder ran down his back.

  He stood slowly, wishing his eyes would adjust quicker. His hearing seemed even more sensitive than before. He could no longer hear the Fey guards at the house talking, but he could still hear the crickets and the soft noises of the field. The barn made no noises of its own.

  He could feel the guards' presence on the far side of the barn.

  He hoped they couldn't feel his.

  His head hit something and immediately the barn flooded with light. Pain radiated from his skull to his temple. He put a hand to the crown of his head as he staggered forward and turned.

  At head level was a Fey lamp. Only this one looked new. It was made of wood, with glass casings, and a braided hanger. Inside —

  Inside were Antoni, his wife, and their children. He had heard that they had been reassigned, that they were working on another farm. But now that he thought of it, he realized the Fey had told him that piece of information.

  It was Antoni and his family, all right, except they didn't look like themselves. They were white light, with their own features, their bodies glowing and the glow creating the same effect torches had. They were pressed up against the glass, tiny figures with their hands palm out, their noses and chins flattened. They were staring at him. Antoni was speaking, but Luke couldn't hear him.

  Luke's stomach turned. Scavenger had told him about Fey lamps. He had said that the most fascinating thing about them was that the souls inside didn't know they were dead. Their bodies were gone. The souls gave off light until they had nothing left to give.

  Luke closed his eyes for a moment. He couldn't help them. They were already dead, and they just didn't know it.

  He didn't want to be the one to tell them.

  And he didn't have time. Someone would notice the light. And he didn't know how to shut it off.

  He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and turned around. He had expected to see prisoners, asleep or in various stages of torture, so it took a moment for what he actually saw to register.

  Pouches.

  Hundreds of pouches, stacked like bricks against the walls and columns in the barn. The hay had been pushed to the side. The dog was gone — or at least, it wasn't here — and the floor was literally covered with pouches, except for small trails so that people could get through.

  This was where the smell of decay came from. Scavenger had explained those pouches, too.

  They came from people the Fey had killed. The Fey filled them with skin from bodies and with other parts, and used the remains to create new magick.

  More magick.

  Luke's stomach turned again, and he had to swallow hard to keep his last meal down. Parts of Antoni and his family were probably here. Parts of other people he knew as well.

  Parts of him, if he wasn't careful.

  He clenched his fists. He knew what his first mission would be. He would burn this place. He would make sure the Fey never had use of these pouches.

  It wasn't like rescuing prisoners. But it would do.

  It might even be better.

  It might save more lives.

  The doors up front rattled. The guards had seen the light, and they were coming in. Luke glanced around. He had triggered that light by bumping it. They needed to believe that something else hit it.

  He grabbed a pitchfork off the wall, and moved it near the light, tilting it, so that the handle leaned against the lamp. Then he put a finger to his lips. Antoni nodded.

  Luke smiled faintly, wishing he could do more, then he got down on his stomach and slithered to the hole. Before crawling out of it, he glanced through, and saw nothing.

  Safe so far.

  He crawled out, careful not to hit anything.

  He would head for the fields, and then for home.

  His heart was pounding, but he felt lighter. He had a plan now. He had a mission.

  And he would succeed.

  FIFTY-NINE

  The Shaman opened her eyes. She was lying on the path, her face embedded in the dirt. Drool ran down her chin and her left cheek. She was dizzy and exhausted.

  And frightened.

  She had seen Powers, and perhaps had heard from a Mystery, and Seen another whole slew of Visions. The only thing it had in common with the last slew was the Blood against Blood.

  A warning.

  It was a warning.

  She sat up slowly. Nicholas was still bent over Arianna, but her upper half looked like a girl again. He had gotten her to Shift at least partially, and now he was working on the lower half.

  Thank the Powers that the Shaman had awakened when she did. He didn't know the rest. She would have to tell him.

  She ran a hand over her mouth, wiping off the dirt and saliva. She brushed off the front of her robe, then got up and made her way to Arianna.

  "Keep touching her," the Shaman said. "She might Shift again if you don't."

  Nicholas looked up. His face seemed more visible than it had before. Did that mean this horrible night was ending? Was the sky lightening? She couldn't really tell yet. There weren't birds this far up, nothing to herald the dawn.

  He looked haggard and old. Losing this child might kill whatever spirit he had left.

  And the Shaman had suggested it. She knew Nicholas. He would never forgive her for that, even if it was something he had to consider.

  Perhaps she should have said nothing.

  "How long will this go on?" he asked.

  "I don't know," the Shaman said. She crouched beside him.

  "You had a Vision."

  She nodded. "I had several."

  "Was Arianna in any of them?"

  "I don't know," she said.

  "Please." His voice was ragged. "No games."

  "No games," she said. "I saw one of your children. I'm not sure which one."

  He let out a soft sigh. His hands worked Arianna's right knee. The rest of the leg was horseflesh. He was working his way down to the hoof.

  "What's happening?" he asked.

  He had to know. The Shaman put her hand on Arianna's leg. Together they would work this last piece of her into Fey form. "She's gone."

  "Gone?" Nicholas's voice shook.

  "From her body. It's the only thing that would cause this."

  "The Black King has her?"

  "I don't know," the Shaman said. The horse's coat was warm against her hands. "I don't think so. I Saw—

  She closed her eyes. She would have to tell him about the golem.

  Nicholas had stopped moving. "Yes?"

  "I Saw the Black King, and the golem, your Sebastian. I think the golem tried to kill the Black King."

  "Sebastian?" Nicholas raised his head. "I saw Sebastian die."

  "He's not like you or me," the Shaman said. "He's not flesh and blood. He's stone. Some golems, rare golems, can reassemble. Those golems have a life of their own. It's part of the Mysteries, the things we don't understand. There have been others in our history."

  "He reassembled?" Nicholas's hands stopped moving. The Shaman placed her own on top of them, and forced them to knead the spot where Arianna's skin had turned to horseflesh. The Shift still occurred beneath his fingers, slowly, but steadily.

  "Apparently," the Shaman said. "It was through his Link that Rugad found Arianna."

  "Sebastian was captured by the Black King?"

  "And Sebastian lured Rugad into the stone, shattering again. I don't know if it worked, Nicholas." Even the attempt showed that the golem had intelligence she had not suspected. She wasn't sure if she liked it or not.

  "And Arianna? Was she with him?"

  "I couldn't tell." The Shaman took a deep breath. This was the hard part. "I have a Link with Arianna, but it's not strong enough to travel on. You have a stronger Link. I'd like to use it. I'd like to fi
nd her. You can't hold her forever. Her body will Shift again, and then it will get stuck. It'll die, and when it dies, so shall she."

  "You wanted to kill her earlier," Nicholas said. His fingers kept moving, but they seemed to be the only part of him that was. The rest of him seemed rigid, more rigid that she had ever seen him.

  "I wanted you to know the option," the Shaman said. "If you had been Fey, you would have made a different choice."

  "A choice you would make."

  "It's not mine to make, Nicholas. It was yours."

  "And now I should trust you with my daughter's life?"

  "There is no one else." The Shaman felt an urgency that was foreign to her. She knew some of it had been brought on by her Visions, but some of it had to do with Arianna. This situation was odd, and she couldn't pinpoint quite how. She had to make Nicholas understand.

  Beneath his fingers, an ankle had formed. All that remained of Arianna's uncontrolled Shift was a single hoof.

  "I would travel your Link," the Shaman said, "And I would search for her. Somehow Arianna has become disassociated from herself. She might be with Rugad, but I doubt it. If she had been, the golem would not have tried to kill him."

  Nicholas nodded. "Sebastian would never harm her. Unless his personality changed. Would that — shattering — change who he is?"

  "No," the Shaman said. "He is even less of his body than we are."

  "Then, if what you say is true, she wasn't with the Black King. Could she have been with Sebastian?"

  The Shaman shook her head. "He wouldn't have shattered then, either. It would have killed her. No. I fear that Rugad trapped her somewhere, somewhere that she can't get out of without help. If he's dead, then we'll have to find her, or she'll remain trapped."

  "And if he's not dead, he'll come back for her."

  "He can't," the Shaman said, "not without someone else's Link. He has no way to get to Arianna. She wasn't Linked with many people. You, the golem, maybe her real brother by blood tie. Her mother through a natural Link. Me, through an old Link, formed the day she was born. And that's it. No one else. Jewel is dead. He doesn't have Gift, and he doesn't have us."

  "And Sebastian is gone."

  "Physical access to him is gone," the Shaman said. "As long as his body remains disassembled, Rugad has no way to reach Arianna."

  "Would he reassemble Sebastian to get to her?"

  "I doubt it. Rugad is smart. He knows the golem can't be controlled. He's had proof of that twice. He doesn't need to experience it again."

  Nicholas ran his hand over the hoof. A heel had appeared, a Fey heel, but the front part of the foot was still hoof.

  He said nothing.

  "You've trusted me for two decades, Nicholas. I won't turn on you now," the Shaman said. She wasn't used to begging. She couldn't believe her hasty words, her accurate words, would provoke this response in him.

  "You turned on me earlier," he said.

  The Shaman sat back on her heels. "I saved Arianna's life. She wouldn't exist if I hadn't come to the palace that day."

  "And you have refused to help at other times. Why would you help now?"

  "Because the situation has changed," the Shaman said. "I will do anything to get rid of Rugad. You'd best remember that. But he's gone now. Your golem has removed him somehow from Arianna. She's the same girl she was" — at least the Shaman hoped she was; she wasn't going to tell Nicholas her other fears — "and we need her."

  She put a hand on Nicholas's arm. He flinched but did not move away. "I have a deep affection for you, Nicholas. More than I've had for anyone since I became Shaman. But if the Black King took you over somehow, I would not hesitate in killing you to get to him."

  "Even if it caused you to lose your powers."

  "Even if," she said.

  "Then why didn't you go for Arianna? Why did you ask me?"

  "Because she's of Black Blood," the Shaman said, "And she might be able to save all of us. The choice wasn't as clear-cut then."

  "Are all lives expendable to you people?" he asked. His fingers had eased an arch out of the hoof. All he had left were Arianna's toes.

  The Shaman swallowed hard. She had always been as honest with Nicholas as possible. It was not wise to change now.

  "In the right circumstance," she said softly, "All lives are expendable. Even our own."

  "And how am I supposed to know which circumstance is which?" Nicholas asked.

  "I have never lied to you, Nicholas."

  "But you haven't always answered my questions."

  "I will tell you if lives are forfeit." She was breaking an oath. Complete honesty was not the way of Shamans. They were too close to the Mysteries to tell all. But she had to, to regain Nicholas's trust.

  "So it all boils down to trusting you." He held his daughter's foot. If it had changed back, the Shaman couldn't see it. His hand covered the last of the hoof.

  "It does," she said.

  "Can't I just wait?" he asked. "Can't we see if Arianna will come back on her own?"

  "You can," the Shaman said. "It may never happen, or it might happen an instant from now. It is another risk you can take."

  "And you're the only one who can help her?"

  "No," The Shaman said. She hadn't wanted to tell him this, but she would. "Anyone with Vision can help her. Visionaries and Enchanters both have the ability to ride the Link."

  "So my son could do it," Nicholas said.

  "Your son could," the Shaman said, "if you trust him."

  Nicholas bowed his head. She knew what he was thinking. She could almost read his thoughts. Nicholas had always been this clear to her. She often wondered why there was such a bond between them when they had come from such different places, and she wondered if Nicholas felt the same way. She knew he had affection for her, but she doubted it went as deep as her affection for him.

  He was thinking. He was thinking carefully about who should save his daughter. Logically, it should be his son, but he had never met his son — not as an adult. And his son had been raised by Fey. No, it was better that he trust the Shaman, whom he knew, rather than his son, whom he did not.

  Nicholas would find sadness in that thought, she knew, and it didn't bother her. She had come to expect it. The man had suffered many losses, many strange losses, in his life. The fact that he didn't know his son was only one of them.

  "I guess you'll have to do it," he said, and there was even more doubt in his voice than she expected.

  "I will not harm Arianna," the Shaman said.

  "You'd better not." There was fierceness in his tone. Fierce protectiveness. Woe to anyone who intentionally harmed his daughter. Nicholas would not hesitate to retaliate.

  "We will all be caught up in the Link," she said. "This is not the place to do it. Anyone could sneak up on us. We all could die."

  "I thought you said this has to be done quickly."

  "It does," the Shaman said. "But we need to be in a place of safety first. The Place of Power is not far. It will be safe there, and it will give me a chance to have help of the Mysteries, should I need it."

  "I thought you said my son is there."

  "He is."

  "If we are unprotected—

  "He can't touch Arianna," the Shaman said. "If anything happens to one of us, it might happen to her. He'll know that. He'll understand the risk."

  "And the companions?"

  "Will do as he says."

  "I hope you're right," Nicholas said. He slid his hands under Arianna's back. "Grab her clothing. We don't have time to put it on her, but we will cover her with it until we get to that Place of Power."

  "Then you'll do this?" the Shaman asked, picking up Arianna's shirt, pants, and cloak. She took the boots and the bundle as well.

  "I have no other choice."

  As she laid the clothing on Arianna, Nicholas watched her. The Shaman could still feel the distrust emanating from him.

  "I'll do the best I can," the Shaman said, "for you, for Arianna, and fo
r the Fey."

  "That's what I'm afraid of," Nicholas said, and started down the trail.

  SIXTY

  The tunnel Con crawled through was going uphill. He frowned as he went. His exhaustion was still there, but he suddenly didn't feel the burning need to sleep any more.

  Uphill.

  And out?

  The tunnel had some fresh cobwebs, small ones. The tunnel had been used in the past, but apparently not since the Fey had arrived.

  Behind him, he could hear the Fey talking as they worked. The small Fey were discussing things like body placement, worrying about decay. He tried not to listen.

  The farther he crawled, the quieter they got.

  He put a hand on the wall and stood. The tunnel had become high-ceilinged, and now no one could see him. It veered sharply to the left and continued to go up. He felt the strain on his calves. He had to touch the wall to maintain his balance.

  The stone was damp and cold. He kept walking. The tunnel echoed, but the echoes seemed dulled, somehow. And then he realized why.

  It was a dead end.

  The stone before him turned into brick. Someone had bricked this part of the tunnel closed.

  That seemed strange. He leaned against it, sighing. At least he could sleep here. No one would see him. He could rest and then surprise the Fey. Maybe if he rested long enough, they'd be gone.

  Vain hope. But he needed some kind of hope. Any kind.

  He sank down, using the brick to brace himself. His left hand found a bit of cloth, and he turned it over in his fingers.

  Cloth.

  This tunnel had been used until the Fey arrived.

  No one had had time to brick anything. Besides, the mortar felt old.

  Grant me clarity.

  Clarity.

  He swallowed, not quite believing what he was thinking.

  This was a passage. A secret one, like the one he and Servis had used to enter the palace all those weeks ago. Like the one he and Sebastian had escaped through.

  But he wasn't too far from the waterfront. There were no important buildings this close to the water, not on this side of Jahn. On the other side, he might have believed that this were part of the Tabernacle. But it wasn't.