by Kit Hallows
I let go of the rope, fell, and landed hard. Pain shot through my ankles and white light flashed before my eyes. “Damn it!” I hobbled toward the lunatic woman. She turned my way and drew her lips back over her teeth, baring the few she had left.
And then she came at me, the tip of her pike gleaming as she thrust it at my chest. I dove aside, watched her sail past and forced myself to my feet, gritting my teeth against the pain, as I limped across the grass. Plucking the sword from the soft soil I whirled round just in time to parry her next attack. I stepped in past her and delivered an almighty slap to the side of her bearded face. She dropped her pike and began to cry.
“Stop that,” I said. It was a horrible, pathetic sound, and I'd had enough of her madness.
“I… I… jus… just wanted a bite to eat. I… I… I’m so hungry!”
“Then catch something easier. Like a rabbit. They don’t tend to be armed.”
“The ones round here are. Vicious bastard creatures!”
“Put your pike away.”
She nodded like a chastised child and slipped it back into her horse’s pack. It vanished, into the short saddle bag as if she’d been dropping it down a well.
“You’ve got magic,” I said, “why don’t you use it to catch game?”
“Magic ain’t no advantage here, this whole place is riddled with it,” she said sullenly. “And everyone and everything’s got a lot more of it than I do. I’m an interloper. Even though I’ve been in this wretched place for almost as long as I can remember.”
“What about nuts and berries?”
“I’m sick of pissing berries!”
“And I’m sick of people trying to skewer me,” I said, as I cut the snare from my ankle.
“Can I go now?” the woman asked. “Not to be rude, but if I can’t eat you, or quench my thirst with a drop of blood then it’s time to move on.”
“Yeah, you’re free to go.” I aimed the tip of my sword at her scrawny chest. “But first you’re going to take me to the village.”
“I imagine there’s no swaying you?”
“Your imagination’s correct. Now lead on.”
She sighed and nodded to her horse. “Come on, Gerald.”
“Very well,” Gerald said, his weary sigh even louder than hers. “On we trot. Why, I couldn’t say.”
I followed as the old woman led the way through the trees that continued to whisper and conspire around us.
We passed bizarre creatures along the path. A young girl with feathered wings and perfectly blank face skipped by and flashed the diamond colored eyes embedded in her knees. And as we neared a crossroads we saw a huge hairless sphinx-like cat with warty flesh and a wide-brimmed hat. It winked at me before slinking off into the trees, singing a mournful refrain as it went.
“Stop gawking and dawdling!” the old woman hissed and shook her head. “You’re aiming to get to the village and I’m anxious to be rid of you. Faster we walk, the sooner we both get our heart’s desires.”
Finally the trees thinned and gave way to a field of lush green grass and trembling bluebells. Beyond it was an old stone-walled village with tall, higgedly-piggedly stone houses and squat thatched cottages.
“Kebbermadoo!” the old lady said, and gave me an elaborate, sarcastic curtsy. I glanced up as two women appeared on horseback. They were beautiful, their eyes as vivid and deep as the flowers woven through their hair, but they seemed as cruel as they were beguiling.
“Good afternoon, Moonmade Sal!” one said to the old woman.
“Still dragging vermin into town, are we?” the other said as her eyes glinted from Sal to me.
“Don’t call me that,” she cried. “I’m not moonmade. I’m just Sal.”
“Okay then, just Sal. We’ll leave you and your… man to whatever grim pursuits you’ve arranged.” The faerie gave the reins an irritable flick, and they cantered off toward the large wooden gate leading to the village.
“Bitchy bitchy foul old faes!” Sal growled.
“Yeah, they weren’t very friendly” I agreed. “Are most faeries like that?”
“No, just the ones in these parts.” Sal sighed, and when she looked at me again it was like she’d swallowed a fly. “Anyway, there’s the pissing village. Go find your master and leave me in peace so I can find a way to fill my belly.”
“Which house?” I asked. The village wasn’t big but there must have been at least a fifty or sixty buildings.
“The one without windows,” Sal said. “Dead or alive, that’s where you’ll find him. And by now it could be either.”
23
I passed through the village gates, feeling more out of place than I could remember. And that was saying something.
For the most part the fae ignored me. They went about their business mending houses or gossiping by the well just like their blinkered counterparts at office water coolers, and I noticed others trading goats, cows and all manner of exotic beasts. But occasionally one would meet my gaze and give me the same withering looks as the faes we’d encountered near the field. As I continued my search I hurried past a shop selling roasted meat and golden brown pies. They filled the air with succulent promise and I considered procuring a couple for poor Moonmade Sal, but she’d long gone.
Finally, I stumbled upon a quiet lane of houses and shops that hawked all manner of unearthly items. It was there that a tall wide building with a low sloping gabled roof and an utter absence of windows drew me like a magnet to its threshold. The wooden door was painted an ominous shade of green and gilded with silver leaf glyphs and symbols that glimmered like stardust.
I reached for the knocker but hesitated as I felt energy thrumming before it. It was almost like it was aware and listening. The glyphs on the door began to merge, forming fearsome shapes; basilisks, manticores, dragons. Each of them hissed and growled until I stepped away.
“And what exactly are you supposed to be?” a voice demanded. “And what does a something like you want inside my temple?”
I turned to find a tall, severe looking faerie standing beside me. He wore simple brown robes and his orange eyes narrowed below his curled white hair. “Well?” he demanded, his tiny pinprick pupils dancing furiously.
“I’m looking for Erland Underwood.”
“I’m sure you are,” the faerie said. “But is he looking for you?”
“Yes. He sent for me.”
The fae scrutinized me for a moment before giving a slight nod. “Come,” he said. He strode to the door and held his hand up. The glyph creatures began to relax, their silver edges slowly morphing back into shiny symbols. “It’s fortunate you didn’t touch the door,” he said, “for your hand would have liquefied into a stump if you had.” He nodded to the ground where there were a number of fat, pale yellowed stains. “So you must carry a sliver of sense within that brutish skull.”
“I suppose I’ve got a bit of sense,” I said, “but I’m better known for my incredible lack of patience. Especially when it comes to strangers patronizing me.”
He gave a curdled smile. “I know all about your kind and their apish pride. But if you ever threaten me within these walls again, you’ll learn all about the sharp pride of a fae. It runs deep, and when unleashed, it brings all before it to their knees. So let us agree to be civil.”
I nodded. It seemed like the best idea.
“Very good.” He opened the door, and ushered me inside.
The shadowy chamber was lit with a few flickering candles and my hand strayed to my sword as a long, low agonizing scream issued from the gloom.
“If you touch that weapon I’ll remove it from your person and melt it down for the rag and miscellany collectors,” the fae said as he closed the door. Then a row of fresh candles burst to life on a plinth behind him, dowsing him in eerie light. “The screams you heard are from a man who came to be healed. It’s what we do here, heal.” His gaze flitted over mine. “We draw out pain. And demons. You’re a man who knows all about demons, are you not?”
<
br /> I remained silent.
“As you please.”
“Where’s Erland?” I asked.
“This way.”
I followed him along a corridor and, as we walked, the screams grew louder. I glanced through an open door to find a huge man lying naked upon a stone slab. Three tiny robed and hooded figures surrounded him. They were small, like children, but the hands that reached out from their robes were bony, withered things. One turned my way, but I hurried on, keen to remain ignorant to whatever lurked below its cowl-like hood.
“Down you go,” the fae said, sweeping his hand toward an open door and a flight of stairs. I nodded to him and descended into smoke-scented air. The wide chamber below was filled with shadows so deep I couldn’t see any surrounding walls. In fact, I couldn’t see much at all. The place seemed empty but for a burgundy velvet wingback chair and the crackling fireplace with an ornate mantelpiece carved entirely from bone.
Erland sat in the chair, his strawberry blonde hair draped over the shoulders of the simple muslin robe he wore. He leaned forward and tossed a handful of blue flowers into the fire. As they fell, the fire crackled and spat and the flames burned a deep shade of midnight blue. “Thank you for coming, Morgan.”
“It’s been my pleasure,” I said, regretting the sarcasm. He looked terrible. His skin was the color of rancid milk, the veins on the side of his face as blue and livid as his eyes were bloody red. “What happened?”
He waved a hand, and a chair moved in from the shadows, pushed by one of the tiny, hooded creatures I’d spotted upstairs. Whatever the thing was, it wasn’t fae. As it came forward its shiny snakelike flesh shimmered in the glow of the flames and I caught sight of a pair of slitted eyes. I waited until it returned to the shadows before taking my seat.
“Tell me your news,” Erland said. “And then I’ll share mine.” There was still a touch of lilac in his eyes as they flitted over mine, but mostly they looked waxen.
As I gazed into the fire, a clamor of thoughts and emotions flooded through me. I’d always trusted Erland, for the most part, and yet I’d held things back. But now…
“I’m aware of far more than you think, Morgan. This is not the time for holding your cards close to your chest.” He folded back his robe, revealing a long, garish red scar. “Things have gotten about as deadly as they can get.”
“What about the…” I nodded to the wall of darkness beyond the fire.
“She won’t hear us. We’re of little interest to them, outside of our agonies, which are what nourishes them.” He gave a pained smile. “But we have a purely symbiotic relationship, these days. Now, tell me the whole story, everything from the first moment you encountered Stroud to now.”
I watched as he tossed a flower from the bowl at his side into the fire, and as the crackle of vivid blue flames erupted I considered my options. What to tell. What to hold back.
And then I felt his gaze as he observed me like a scientist analyzing some new, unexpected strain of insect. “The truth, Morgan. The whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
24
I nodded. I couldn’t see any benefit in holding back, not at this point. Either we were on the same side or we weren’t. He was offering help and our resources were running thin. If Erland turned out to be an enemy, then he’d be dealt with as one, even though the idea of fulfilling that obligation was almost impossible for me to contemplate.
So I started at the beginning, from the hexling’s first victim to our confrontation with Kitty Frostup.
“Franklin Lampton?” Erland steepled his fingers as he gazed into the flames. “Why am I not surprised? I take it the knight who betrayed his order…”
“Prentice Sykes,” I said, recalling Hellwyn and Tom’s old partner.
“Yes, Sykes. He was the one who persuaded Lampton to open a portal between the asylum and Penrythe.”
“I believe so.”
“And then you destroyed it.” He glanced my way. “Or should I say, your other destroyed it.”
“He’s me, and I’m him.” I could see the calculations going through Erland’s mind. Two assets for the price of one. “We might be different, but we’re inseparable.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Just ask our friend in the shadows.” His red-rimmed eyes flitted to the gloom. “But that’s for another time. Right now, we need to find a way to prevent Endersley from accomplishing his master’s goal. Hmm, the wholesale annihilation of both the blinkered and magical communities, no small feat then.”
“Do you have any contacts that could lead us to Endersley?”
Erland shook his head. “No. But your instinct to go after Franklin Lampton is right on point. Most likely he’s involved in Stroud’s plans. Or is at least privy to them, seeings as he’s the man that made Stroud’s manifestation here possible in the first place.”
“Okay,” I said. “But even if I locate Stroud I can’t do anything to stop him. He’s a shade. A ghost…”
“That’s why I brought you here.”
“I thought you were dying and needed my help.”
“I don’t need your help in that department, Dr. Morgan.” Erland smiled. “But I appreciate the offer.” He glanced to his chest, and the scar hidden below the robe.
“What happened?”
“Someone tried to kill me. Actually, no, not a someone. Someones. First, they poisoned my wine, but thankfully I know a bad vintage when I smell one. Then they tried to shoot me and came very close to succeeding. When that failed a third assassin ambushed me and stuck me with a cursed blade.” He winced at the memory. “It hurt like hell, but it could have been so much worse.”
“Did you see the assailants?”
“No. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending how you look at it. Anyway my…instincts kicked in pretty fast and there wasn’t much left of the third assailant, just blood and shredded flesh. But they’re just pawns and therefore irrelevant, what matters is who sent them. And I’ll be damned if it wasn’t Franklin Lampton’s pompous grandson. Damned even more than I already am.”
“We need to take the Lamptons down.”
“Yes. But we can't operate like that, Morgan, we need proof first, and allies. Lampton’s well protected, which means we'll have to strip away his support. I’m working on that. The fae you just met, Aberfellow Hax, is a powerful healer but he’s also a warrior and not someone to be trifled with by any measure. Aberfellow’s very graciously granted me a week’s stay in his sanctuary and the favor of his humble servants to draw out the last of the curse. It’s enough time for me to heal and once I’m well enough, we’ll travel across these lands, gather allies, and cross back to the blinkered realm to challenge their affronts. When we arrive, there will be blood.” Fury seethed in his voice as he leaned forward in his chair. “Those who have colluded with Stroud, each and every last one of them, will pay dearly.”
“And Stroud?” I asked. “How can we slay him?”
“There is always a way.”
“Well, not to put a damper on things but my grasp on magic is beyond limited,” I said. “As you probably intended.”
“Exactly as I intended,” Erland held my gaze. “I've been privy to your other since the moment you and I first met. I sensed his capacity for destruction, though he was little more than a lurking phantom back then, an unpleasant gleam in your eyes. It would have been wholly irresponsible for me to teach you how to wield magic in the blinkered realm. Him having access to that kind of power, unimaginable. And he… or you… were already well versed in magic, but it was a skill learned in another world, its methods and ways didn’t fully translate within the blinkered one. Which, I believe, might have some bearing on why he was subdued for so long. In the meantime, we helped you develop the skills you needed in the sterling work you’ve done, but we drew a line. You've always been a good asset, Morgan, but I knew the day would come when you’d prove to be so much more. And here it is.”
“And here I am, my magic hobbled while Stroud’s mastered his. And as a sh
ade, he's invulnerable.”
“That’s his power,” Erland said. “Or so he thinks. But even a shade has weaknesses.” He leaned in close. “There’s a species in this realm with a claw capable of cutting through almost anything. We call them the mhudambe. The skintakers, for they walk amongst the living wearing the skins of the dead.”
“Yeah,” A memory returned to me. The poltergeist raging in Mrs. Fitz’s cellar, and the creature tormenting him in the afterlife. Its claw had ripped through the poltergeist, mortally wounding his very soul. “I’ve seen one.”
“Really?” Erland’s brow furrowed. “I don’t recall any reports of them in the blinkered world. I’m sure I’d remember…” he looked at me closely and then nodded. “Right. One of your private jobs.”
“You…”
“Yes, I know about the moonlighting.” He gave me a pained smile. “But I had no idea you’d tangled with a mhudambe. Interesting. I wouldn’t have given them the credit for moving between realms, although it’s possible someone brought it to the blinkered world. They make excellent bodyguards. They’re vicious but compliant, as long as they’re given the opportunity to be clothed in fresh skin.”
“Nice,” I said. “So, we capture a mhudambe and use its claw to kill Stroud?”
Erland’s laugh became a wracking cough. “You could try, but I don’t think it would turn out so well. They only respect sadism and brutality, and while you’ve doled out more than your fair share of killings, you’re no sadist.” Erland tossed another flower onto the fire and inhaled the incense-like aroma. When he turned back to me, there was a little more color in his cheeks. “But funnily enough there is such an individual close by, a merchant of sorts. He lives not six miles from this town, close enough for the villagers to feel his shadow.”
“Do you want me to knock on his door and see if I can borrow one of these creatures?”
