by Anthea Sharp
Roy let out a shout of relief, and she glanced over her shoulder. Zeg stood at the end of the line, massaging his wrist with his free hand.
“Don’t stop now,” Spark said.
She dragged the middle of the line forward, the rest of the team straggling behind her. Three more steps and they stood on the pale roadway of Miles Cross. Above, the sky continued strobing. The circle of standing stones shone white, then black, their shadows reaching hungrily across the road.
The team had made it—just in time.
The road vibrated with the sounds of distant passage, faint now, but moving closer. The cold, bright wind brought the drift of chiming bells, the guttural cries of goblins overlaid with a banshee’s screech, a scattering of harp notes like golden coins spilled into the air.
The faeries were coming.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM
Tam let go of Jennet’s hand and flexed his fingers. His muscles coiled with tension. That had been too close—losing Zeg was unthinkable.
He shot a glance at his friend, who projected his usual calm solidity despite nearly falling to his death. Good thing Lassiter had held on, though it must have hurt like hell. Tam caught the other boy’s eye and nodded his thanks.
“Do you hear that?” Spark asked. Her pointed fox ears twitched.
“What?” Jennet asked.
“Sounds like a kid singing.”
Tam strained his ears, trying to pick out what Spark was hearing from the mixed sounds carried on the wind.
“So?” Lassiter rubbed at his left shoulder. “The faeries sound like all kinds of things.”
“A kid singing Crush It? I don’t think so. Unless the faeries listen to top 10 radio in here.”
“My little brother,” Tam said, hope and worry tearing into him. “He loves that song.”
That had to mean the Bug was all right. Didn’t it?
On their left, the ring of standing stones began to glow. Tam dimly remembered those eerie granite monoliths rising above him. In the center lay a rectangular slab and he shivered at the dark stains marring the sides.
“Here they come,” Zeg said, his gaze focused down the road.
Tam and Lassiter moved to the front of the party. Jennet’s dad stepped forward, but she pulled on his arm and drew him back to marginal safety.
“Let the heavy-armor fighters protect us,” she said quietly.
Tam hoped like hell they’d be able to.
The dark shadow of the massed faeries resolved into individual shapes. In the front, a dozen figures in bright armor marched, lances prickling up, helms covering their faces. Behind them, redcap goblins cavorted, their teeth glinting and sharp.
Other creatures, half-animal in form, trailed them, shambling and mincing, growling and squealing. A delicate bevy of maidens followed, their hair like spun moonlight, silver bells edging their gossamer robes.
And behind them, the two fey monarchs rode side by side. The Bright King was mounted on a golden charger, his armor shining brilliant gold. The Dark Queen rode a chestnut horse, her dark skirts spread out like the midnight sky, her face beautiful as an eclipse. At her shoulder rode the Black Knight, on a horse as pitch black as his armor.
Tam drew his sword and settled his shield on his left arm. At his side, Lassiter gripped the pommel of his two-handed sword and raised it at the ready.
“Halt.” The Dark Queen’s voice was hard as ice. “What is this we see before us?”
The ranks of the fey folk parted to let the queen and king ride through. They halted behind the rank of spear-bearers and regarded the six humans blocking the road before them.
The queen tipped back her head and laughed, a sound that could crack bone. The Bright King leaned forward, his gaze going to Jennet, and Tam tightened his grip on his sword.
“Fair Jennet,” the king said. “Do you truly think to oppose us? There is a better way.”
Jennet shook her head, a strand of pale hair brushing her cheek. “I don’t think so.”
“It is not too late,” the king said. “You may still join us. All of you.”
“I claim Bold Tamlin for my court,” the queen said.
“No,” Tam said. “We’re here for my brother.”
“You must find him, first,” the queen said.
“Fine.” Tam took a step toward the faeries, scanning the throng for a glimpse of the Bug.
The queen threw her hand up, and his limbs locked, one foot lifted in mid-step.
“Hey!” Lassiter hefted his sword. “Let him go.”
“You may seek,” the king said, “but we do not give you leave to move from this place.”
Crap. How were they going to find his brother? Panic bubbled high in Tam’s throat, and he forced it back down.
“Bug?” he called. “Can you hear me?”
The queen smiled darkly. “He is forbidden to speak.”
Damn the faeries and their impossible quests. But there was always a solution, if only he could puzzle it out.
“Tam,” Jennet said softly behind him. “He can’t speak… but maybe he can sing.”
Hope pricked him, sharp and bright. Hadn’t Spark thought she heard the Bug earlier?
Tam wasn’t much in the singing department, but he had to try. He drew in a ragged breath and started, his voice unsteady.
“Down, down, tonight it’s all the way.”
Jennet joined him partway through, her clear voice bolstering his. Then Spark took up the song in a husky alto.
“We gonna rock it til the break of day.
No need to rush, rush it.”
That must be Lassiter. He couldn’t carry a tune, but at least he was trying.
“Oh baby, then we crush it,” sang a high, fearless voice from within the bunch of gossamer-clad maidens.
They melted away like frost in sunlight, revealing Tam’s little brother.
Tam’s heart clenched, hard. His foot fell to the ground, and he staggered as his body unfroze.
“Bug?” he said. “You ok?”
“Hi, Tam.” His brother smiled at him. “I’m ready to go home now.”
“That’s the plan.”
The Dark Queen shook her head. “Alas. We have other plans for you, mortals.”
She brought her hand down in a sharp gesture. Quick as thought, the Black Knight slid from his horse and strode through the ranks of bright-armored lance carriers. They followed him, a dozen spears tipped in deadly formation.
“Attack!” the king cried.
The fey folk let out a cacophony of cheers. The Black Knight raised his sword and veered toward Lassiter.
“Take cover,” Tam yelled to his brother, then lifted his shield as the lancers charged.
Wickedly barbed points clanged against the metal. One slipped past the edge of his shield, and Tam batted it away with his sword. A bolt of blue magefire streaked by and hit the nearest lancer square in the chest. The figure stumbled back, but they were still way outnumbered.
Lassiter’s sword rang against the Black Knight’s armor. Without a shield he was at a disadvantage, but so far he seemed to be holding his own.
The lancers charged at Tam again, and this time one of the spears pierced his forearm. Damn, that hurt. He glanced down to see a thin trickle of blood marring his silver armor.
“Heal!” he called.
A green glow settled over his arm, dulling the pain. Just in time, as the lancers surged forward. Jennet sent more mage bolts, but the magic didn’t harm the fey folk, only pushed them back. Spark’s arrows did better. One of the bright-armored figures lay motionless on the ground, a feathered shaft sticking from his helm.
Two of the lancers charged past. He couldn’t let them reach Jennet and Spark. Tam backed up, keeping the rest of the attackers at bay with long, sweeping arcs of his sword.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Lassiter spin around from the force of the Black Knight’s blows, and he winced in sympathy.
“Heal!” Lassiter called out.
Zeg’s spells kept them in the fight, but they were struggling already. Not a good sign, when the king and queen hadn’t even joined the battle yet.
A flutter of orange robes signaled Jennet’s dad springing into motion. He leaped at the closer of the approaching lancers and managed a solid strike to the head. One of Spark’s arrows finished the enemy off, but the second lancer reached them. The lancer jabbed his spear into Spark’s shoulder and she cried out, her hand going to the wound. When she pulled her fingers away, they were red with blood.
Jennet blasted the enemy, a second too late.
“Hang on,” Zeg said, hands weaving in the air.
He sent a healing spell toward Spark, but Tam didn’t have time to watch it take effect. The remaining lancers were attacking him hard, jabbing at his legs, his helm, any place they could reach. One thrust his spear between Tam’s feet, and he stumbled.
“Hi-yah!” Jennet’s dad yelled. This time his attack was parried, the sharp point of a spear gouging his arm.
The clash of sword on armor grew insistent. Tam glanced at Lassiter, to see the Black Knight land a fearsome blow to his side. Lassiter’s eyes grew wide, and his sword point wavered, dipped.
“Roy!” Tam cried, struggling to fight to his friend’s side.
Pain pierced through him as the lancers stabbed his arms and legs. Zeg’s heals couldn’t keep up with the amount of damage he was sustaining.
“Advance!” the Dark Queen cried, her voice cracking through the air like lightning.
A tide of redcap goblins swept toward them brandishing knives, their wicked teeth bared. The first wave ran into a sheet of flame, which only enraged the creatures. Shrieking, they clambered over the bodies of fallen lancers.
Tam had nearly reached Roy. In slow motion he saw the Black Knight lift his blade high overhead. Roy brought his two-handed sword up to block the blow. Faster than the eye could follow, the knight reversed his movement. His blade slid between Roy’s ribs, and Roy fell to his knees. His sword tumbled to the ground, streaked with black blood.
“Tam,” Roy gasped, his brown eyes meeting Tam’s horrified gaze. “Sorry.”
Slowly, he crumpled, eyes closing.
“No!” Tam leveled his blade at the Black Knight and threw the force of his anguish behind the blow. Silver pierced black armor, and the knight let out a bellow that shook the sky.
“Dad!” Jennet screamed, high and panicked.
Tam pulled his sword free and whirled to see Mr. Carter go down under a half-dozen goblins. There was no sign of Spark. Zeg cast heals desperately, but the goblins had reached him and were pulling viciously at his robes. He staggered, then fell.
Rage and despair rose through Tam like a bleak tide. He turned and locked eyes with the Dark Queen. She smiled, a merciless blade honed to the cutting edge.
“Take them,” she said.
A lancer brought his weapon down hard on Tam’s head, and the world went dark.
CHAPTER THIRTY - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM
Bitter cold and blackness. Then a whisper in her ear.
“Fair Jennet.”
It hurt to breathe. She had to remember… had to…
“Lady, awake.” A flutter of sound, moth-quiet. “Stir not.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and she wished they hadn’t. She lay in the circle of standing stones, propped up against one of them. Her hands were tied behind her. A golden cord wrapped around her aching chest secured her to the menhir.
In the center of the circle, Tam’s little brother lay bound on the slab of stone. The Dark Queen stood at his head, the Bright King at his feet. Red and blue flames flickered along the edges of the stone.
“Brother,” the queen said. “Our victory is complete.”
The king nodded. “Once we open the gateway to the mortal world, the bargain between us is ended.”
Jennet swallowed, her throat dry and tight. She had to get loose! Where was the rest of the team? Slowly, she slid her gaze to the right. Tam was tied to the stone next to her, and he was awake. Relief shivered down her spine. He met her gaze, and his lips formed a sh. She blinked once—to show she understood the need for silence. They couldn’t act, not yet—though she didn’t know how he could bear it when his little brother lay on the verge of being sacrificed by the faeries.
She looked carefully to her left. Fear clenched her stomach when she made out a huddle of orange robes and pale skin tied to the stone. Her dad. He’d gone down under an attack of redcap goblins.
“Puck?” she whispered, for it had been the sprite who had woken her.
“Aye, lady.” His voice was a bare thread of sound in the shadows behind her.
“Is my dad okay?”
“He still breathes.”
That didn’t sound good. She swallowed back hot tears. They had to do something.
“Can you untie me?”
“I cannot work directly against the courts,” the sprite said.
“Then why bother to wake me at all?” Desperation clawed through her.
“I cannot free you,” Puck said, “but the fox spirit can. Be still.”
Fox spirit? A moment later, Jennet felt a cold nose snuffle her palm. A quick snick of sharp teeth, and the bonds at her wrists fell away. Another snap, and the golden cord holding her to the stone parted, draping across her lap.
Jennet sent a wary look to the center of the ring, where the two monarchs were absorbed in elaborate preparation.
“Can you free Tam?” she whispered.
“Aye.” Motion rustled behind her, then was gone.
Was the whole team here, tied to the tall stones? Moving her head slowly, she scanned the circle. Beyond her dad’s slumped figure—oh, how she wanted to dash to his side—Zeg was bound to the next stone. His eyes met hers, and she swallowed a prayer of thanks. The next two menhirs were empty. Then her gaze snagged on Roy’s body, and fear rose up to choke her.
She had thought her dad looked bad, but Roy… he seemed barely alive. His armor was rent open, a trickle of blood seeping over the once-shining bronze breastplate. His face was the color of ashes. Of death.
In the middle of the circle, the king and queen held their hands up. Light shimmered between their outstretched palms: red fire, purple flames, black radiance.
Jennet looked away, and a flash of russet fur caught her eye. The fox, with Puck astride, darted from Tam’s stone over to Roy’s still form.
But where was Spark? Had she died, her broken body left at the crossroads? No, it couldn’t be. Jennet forced herself to breathe. Her lungs burned, heat searing across her breast.
Wait. Not her lungs. She glanced down to see a milky disc of stone suspended from a silver chain, glowing fiercely on her chest. The Talisman of Shejin!
She looked over at Tam, where the teardrop of his own talisman shone brightly against his silver armor. The rewards from Princess Paloma’s quest. She hadn’t thought much of them at the time, but now… she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to recall the princess’s words in the Stronghold Castle gardens.
Lends the wearer three times their magical strength, and heals them of mortal wounds.
Her eyes flew open and she locked gazes with Tam. Neither of them bore mortal wounds—but Roy did, and Dad too. To hell with the faeries. She couldn’t wait another moment.
Jennet scrambled to her feet and lunged to where her dad lay slumped against the stone. She tore the talisman from her neck and slipped the silver chain over his head.
“Stop her!” the Dark Queen cried.
“Come on, Dad,” Jennet breathed.
She tucked the glowing disc of white stone under his robes. A moment later, clawed hands dug into her arms as two redcap goblins grabbed her. She glanced over at Tam, who’d taken advantage of the distraction to slip over to Roy. The light of his teardrop talisman dimmed as he dropped it beneath Roy’s sundered breastplate.
This had to work.
“Look to the knight as well,” the Bright King called, his voice deep and resonant.
<
br /> Two twiggy guards leaped from the shadows. Tam tried to draw his sword, but they caught his arms, pinioning them to his sides.
“Bring them.” The queen gestured to the flat stone. “Three sacrifices will hold thrice the power. Our gate will never be closed.”
Jennet struggled, but the goblins hauled her forward and forced her to her knees beside the stone. Across from her, Tam was pushed to the ground as well. His face was lit by red and blue fire, his mouth set in a determined line she knew too well.
“Tam?” His little brother’s voice was scared, his eyes huge in his dirt-streaked face.
“I’m here, Bug. Hang in there.”
“We must end this,” the king said.
He strode to where Jennet knelt and placed a hand on her hair. His touch burned like liquid fire, and she heard the high, sweet chiming of pixies.
“Aye.” The queen moved to Tam’s side and tangled her pale hand in his brown hair.
He shivered and closed his eyes at her touch.
“Cheehooo!” The cry rang through the dark bright air.
Jennet looked up to see Zeg standing at the head of the flat stone, his teeth bared in a ferocious grimace, his hair standing wild around his head. He slapped his own chest three times, then bent, tore through the cords binding the Bug, and lifted Tam’s brother from the stone.
“Stop!” The queen flung out her hand, a midnight sphere flying from her palm.
Zeg ducked and backed away, but a menacing growl made him halt. Behind him the horned master of the Wild Hunt stood, silhouetted against the stones. Red-eyed hounds milled just outside the circle, sharp teeth gleaming.
“Crap,” Tam muttered.
“Return the boy,” the king said.
In the heartbeat of hesitation before Zeg moved, a blur of red leaped from the darkness. The fox! It fastened its teeth on the goblin holding Jennet’s right arm. Tam leaped to his feet and kicked the other goblin, and she was free.
She stood and held her hands up to the fierce sky. They had one more weapon at their command. She didn’t know why she hadn’t come into Feyland with the blade, but she had to summon it now.
