The Drowned Tomb (The Changeling Series Book 2)

by James Fahy

  “What’s it like, having these memories?” he asked. “Of things that haven’t happened yet I mean, or having memories from things which happened way before you were even born?”

  “When it happens, it’s like a waking dream.” She sighed. “I only see things, though. Images, pictures, impressions. I don’t always know what they actually mean. It can be very confusing.”

  She looked down into the fire, her jaw set.

  “Eris wants to know about something you saw?” Robin guessed. “Something to do with me, right? That’s why you sought me out. That’s how you even knew about me. Back when all this began.”

  “Yes,” Karya replied. “Which is why I’m very valuable at the moment. I rather wish I wasn’t, but there you have it.”

  “What did you see?” he asked.

  She looked directly at him again, her eyes narrowed, her expression unreadable.

  “You,” she said softly. “I saw you, Robin. The Scion of the Arcania, long before anyone else did. Before your guardian, the woman you called Gran died. Before anyone in the Netherworlde knew you even existed. I saw you … And more besides.” She looked away, tucking her hair behind her ears. “And don’t ask me what else because it’s nobody’s business but mine and I’m not saying another word about it. Not until I understand it myself.”

  Robin was about to argue. It seemed horribly unfair that Karya had had some kind of vision involving him and he wasn’t to know about it, but she held her hand up.

  “Don’t even ask,” she said. “Anything I tell you could alter what I saw. I don’t know whether that would be a good thing or a bad thing, but I know it wouldn’t be right. We’re not supposed to know too much about ourselves.”

  Robin decided not to push it for now. At least now he knew why Strife had been set on Karya’s trail.

  “So, you’re the world’s best tracker, a master of the Tower of Earth, the only person with the skill to cross two worlds without having to use a Janus station, and you also have crazy visions about the past and the future which may or may not be true,” he summarised. “Anything else I should know about you?”

  She smirked at him. “Yes, I’m a bad tempered sod, and I don’t like questions,” she said.

  This was hardly news to Robin.

  “What are you though?” Robin wanted to know. “I’m sorry if that sounds blunt. I’m not sure if it’s polite to ask something like that or not. Woad told me you weren’t Panthea, and you’re not Fae … are you?” He wondered briefly if there were curled horns hidden in the mass of her hair.

  “No. I’m not either,” she said. “There’s more in the Netherworlde than two warring races, you know.” She shrugged dismissively “You ask me what I am? Truth is, I don’t really know. I’m just Karya. One of seven sisters.” She looked a little sad. “I’m hardly anyone, really.”

  She could see more questions forming on his face in the rippling, reflected light from the waterfall. “What did I just say about questions?”

  “I have a question for you,” came a voice from between the small forest of mushrooms. Henry, Robin and Karya all looked up to see that Jackalope had returned, making his way into the cavern in long strides. He had a burlap sack strung over one shoulder, filled, presumably, with gathered herbs, and quite possibly, pixies.

  “This treasure that everyone’s after, this Shard of the Arcania that is so valuable to you all.”

  Robin nodded, as the tall Fae reached the campfire and dropped the bag with a thud. “I couldn’t give a bog hag’s fart about the Shard, or about any of you,” he said flatly. “But you say it’s in a secret sanctuary? The hidden valley of the Undine. The place which legend tells is a storehouse for treasures untold and things of shiny worth?”

  “So they say,” Karya said, cautiously.

  “Well,” he said to her. “As I was telling your two friends here while you were sleeping, I have been, in the past, an excellent treasure hunter.”

  “A thief, you mean?” Karya asked, without a hint of judgement in her voice.

  Jackalope nodded a little. “If you prefer, yes. I’ve lived out here on the ice like a hunted creature for two years.” He licked his lips, looking at them all shrewdly. “I will help you find your friend, this faun who was stupid enough to get captured by a Grimm, and I’ll show you the way down off the Gravis Glaciem, off the mountain to the valleys below, on one condition. That I come with you, and I get to choose one piece of whatever treasure we find as my own.”

  “This isn’t a treasure hunt,” Robin frowned.

  “But there will be treasures in Hiernarbos,” the Fae replied, his silver eyes sparkling. “Treasures no one’s seen since before the war.”

  “Well possibly, but we’re not intending to steal them,” Karya explained.

  The Fae sneered at her. “No, of course not. You children are just grave robbing instead, right? I really don’t care what your intentions are once you get there. I only know that anything of worth which I can trade for supplies down in Worrywort is worth the risk. I can’t live forever up here on snow rabbit and boiled pixie. But with decent treasure, I can fence things of worth in Worrywort, trade for a whole winter’s supply of dried goods to keep here. A whole winter of not being hungry, of being warm enough, of not having to risk capture.”

  “Yes, you could really make your icy cave hideout homely,” Henry said, “I get it. What on earth is Worrywort?”

  “It’s a village,” Karya said. “Well, more of an outpost really. I’ve heard of it, I think. I didn’t realise we were that far north in the Netherworlde.”

  Jackalope shrugged. “Any further north and there’s nothing but ice drakes and the Whitefolk.” He shuddered.

  Robin stood. “So let me get this straight. You’ll guide us down off this mountain, or glacier, or wherever we are, and get us to this village, but only if we let you come with us to Hiernarbos? I thought you wanted to avoid trouble?”

  The Fae looked a little guilty. “Yes. I did. But it’s too late for that now.”

  He looked worried for a moment. “There are Peacekeepers in the mountains. I saw them, while out getting this stuff for you. I’ve never seen them up here before. They must be drawn by that Grimm you brought. Or summoned by her, I’m not sure. Either way, it’s not safe to stay here now. Not for a while at least. I need to leave. For a time, until they go away.”

  Karya had leapt to her feet. “Peacekeepers? Here?”

  Robin had heard them mention Peacekeepers before. As far as he understood, they were something like the police force of the Netherworlde, under Eris’ command, but he didn’t really know much about them.

  The silver-haired Fae nodded grimly. “Yes. Far off, nothing to worry about yet. But they will get here eventually. I cannot be here when they do. And neither should any of you be. I’m coming with you.”

  He looked from Karya to Robin. “One piece of treasure, my choice, as long as it’s not the Shard. Do we have a deal?”

  Robin shrugged. He had no real idea if there even was treasure at Hiernarbos. It was the last thing on his mind, and if there was, it wasn’t his to give away, but what could he do? They needed this boy to get them to safety and to civilisation. Without him, they doubted they could even get down out of the snowfields. He nodded.

  “Fair enough. On my word as the Scion,” he said.

  The Fae stared at him hard for a moment. “Scion,” he scoffed. “Saviour of the Netherworlde, right? There's no such thing,” he muttered.

  Henry had returned from the water’s edge, carrying several water-filled pots in his arms, which he proceeded to pour into the large cauldron above the fire. Jackalope nudged the burlap sack with his foot. “Good. Stew these, and eat. It will restore you. And then we must go. Every moment we delay, the Peacekeepers get closer.”

  KEEPING THE PEACE

  They felt much rejuvenated after eating the strange stew. Robin hoped dearly that it didn’t include any pixie, although it had contained some suspiciously chewy parts. Jackalope had
provided Henry and Robin each with thick, rough cloaks of animal hide against the cold, though Karya was fine as she was in her enormous coat. Soon, they were ready to leave the cavern.

  It was pre-dawn when they emerged out onto the tundra. The wind and storm had gone and the snow had stopped falling, so that the dark and skeletal forest seemed as still and silent as a stage set. Fresh powder glowed under the black branches. Wordlessly, Jackalope beckoned for them to follow and led them away through the trees and out onto the expanse of white. The sky above them was almost golden, flickering with the promise of sunrise, and here and there between the clouds, the last fading stars could still be seen.

  There were no signs of any Peacekeepers, though all four of them kept a careful watch. Indeed, nothing living seemed to move in the high snowfield as they marched onwards.

  There were few settlements this far north in the Netherworlde. People were too worried about frostburrows and icewisps. The former, he explained, were worms of a kind, as long as your arm. They burrowed in deep snowdrifts and their harsh bite could cause instant frostbite. He hadn’t ever come across one himself, but none of them relished losing blackened fingers, so they were wary where they trod.

  Icewisps were another matter. These creatures, the hornless Fae informed them, appeared as flurries of ice crystals, little miniature whirlwinds. They lived up on the highest peaks and rarely ventured down to the snowfields themselves. But occasionally, when the storms were bad enough, some would be blown this way. Icewisps were troublesome creatures. Spirits more than flesh. There had no innate malevolence, but they craved solid form, and had been known to attach themselves to errant and careless mountain travellers. Unless they wanted to go through the rest of their lives with a permanent ice storm fluttering about their heads and shoulders, he warned the others, they should take care.

  He had seen a herd of them once, in their hundreds, rolling across the snows like a desert sandstorm, white and glimmering. It had been quite beautiful.

  By the time the sun had finally risen fully over the craggy mountainous terrain, they had put some miles between themselves and the icy cliffs containing the Fae’s bolt hole. Its cliffs were now nothing more than a vague misty smudge on the horizon behind them, a grey wall of stone. They walked ever downwards, through valley and gully, snow and rock; several times Robin’s ears popped as they made their way down from the high tundra.

  “Do you know how to get back to Woad?” Henry asked Karya, his tired breath coming in great clouds in the frosted air as they marched, furs pulled tight around them.

  She shook her head, frowning. “I don’t know where we tore from,” she said. “So I have no way of knowing where to tear back to. Our best bet is to get to this village. We can get supplies there, and maybe someone will have seen something. If Ker has found the hidden valley, he’ll be massing his troops there. We already know Peacekeepers are in the vicinity, so it can’t be far.”

  Jackalope insisted they keep going a little further, despite the fact they had walked for hours and none of them had really had any decent rest since they arrived in the Netherworlde. Aside from the occasional tired huff, Robin attempted to be silently stoic, wrapped in his makeshift fur pelts and his breath clouding like a dragon’s. His legs were aching, however, and he was certain there was now a large and permanent bruise on his back from the heavy book of the Fae, which Jackalope had secured in a rough sling for him, freeing his hands up. It felt as though with every rugged, snowy mile they put between themselves and the dark cliffs, someone was adding another brick to his bag.

  “We can’t stop out here,” their guide explained, unmoved by their obvious exhaustion. He squinted into the sun. “We’re too exposed, too easy to spot for anyone looking.” He pointed to some small red berries growing in clusters at the feet of nearby trees. They had been seeing these sporadically for a while, here and there in the snow, cherries in icing sugar. “See? Firedrake berries. We’re headed in the right direction.” He looked ahead into the trees. “The land slopes down a few miles up ahead, the snow stops there too. There are valleys, there’ll be woods, real ones. We can rest there, amongst the trees, for a time at least.”

  They journeyed on laboriously through the morning. By the time a large, dense forest appeared in the distance, the sun was high in the sky and the morning mist had long since been burned from the ground. There was a still an icy alpine nip in the air, but the sky above was clear and sheeny-blue. Robin was immensely grateful that it was warmer here. He felt a little ridiculous for having complained about the incessant heatwave back home for the past two months. The air wasn’t as thin here either. It was easier to breathe.

  Eventually they reached the tree line, where the snow petered out into slush, then muddy puddles, but even once they reached the border of the woods, tough thick fir trees with rich dark green needles that smelled divine, Jackalope still insisted that the four of them forge their way deep inside before finally agreeing to stop and rest.

  This forest was not as ancient or dark as the Barrowood. The trees here were slim and tall. The floor was a brown carpet of pine needles which crunched underfoot. It smelled remarkably like Mr Drover’s car. It could easily have been a pleasant woodland back in the human world, except that as they walked deeper into the forest, Robin saw that it was liberally scattered throughout with glimpses of old ruined walls and arches, scattered remnants here and there between the foliage, as though a town had once stood here, but had long since been swallowed up by nature.

  By mid-afternoon, they made a rough camp in the moss-covered ruins of what once might have been a house, now nothing more than three crumbling rubble walls, green with ivy. Karya and Jackalope expertly lit a small camp-fire between them, and they divided the meagre supplies they had brought with them from the Fae’s home.

  “This food here won’t last us much longer,” Henry noted with worry. “Not between all of us.”

  Jackalope peered at him darkly. “Well, I’m only used to feeding myself, human,” he said with ill grace. “If I’d have been expecting company, I’m sure I would have baked a cake.”

  Karya drank deeply from her water skin, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “If my sense of direction is anything to go by, then this village you told us about is a day’s walk, maybe a little more. It’s called Worrywort? Off the yellow road, yes?”

  The grey-haired Fae nodded silently, scratching absently behind the stump of his horns,

  Henry sniggered. “Worrywort, though? What kind of a name is that?”

  Karya raised an eyebrow. “Oh and ‘Ramsbottom’ is perfectly normal, is it? I’ve been there in the human world.”

  “Point taken,” Robin smiled, looking between the two of them. “So, we’re going shopping then, while we ask about for any Grimm news?”

  Karya shook her head. “When we get close, we can just send Jack there to see if he can replenish our stock and see what’s on the local grapevine.”

  “Send Jack?” Jackalope raised an eyebrow at her, though he smiled grimly, and she flushed a little.

  “Well, you said you know the place. And because I don’t want to be seen, for one thing,” Karya replied. “I’ve been trying not to be seen for almost two years as it is. I’m hardly going to go waltzing into the middle of an actual Netherworlde village announcing my presence, am I?” She glanced at Robin. “And we certainly can’t send the Scion. The whole of the Netherworlde will be on high alert for him. It’s bad enough that he’s one of the few Fae walking around like there isn’t a war on.” She glanced at Jackalope. “Besides you I mean, but I’ll bet Eris will have informers everywhere, and Peryl and the Peacekeepers will be combing the mountains. Best if we all stay clear. I’ll give you some money and a list. I still have some Netherworlde coins somewhere.” She rummaged in her coat.

  “I could go in disguise?” Robin offered. He was very curious as to what a village full of Netherworlde Panthea would be like, even a small remote one up in the alpine heights.

  Karya
shook her shaggy mane. “Not risking it. No arguments. There could be Peacekeepers in the village. If they get their hands on you, it’s all over. Might as well cover you in stamps, address you to Eris and roll you into the town square myself.”

  Robin opened his mouth to protest, but Karya gave him a very sharp look, which reminded him unsettlingly of Aunt Irene. “Jack here is an unknown face. And with his hood up and those horn stumps covered, he could pass for Panthea. We can’t avoid delaying getting to Hiernarbos.”

  “And Woad,” Henry added.

  Karya was right, Robin knew. This was no time for sightseeing. If he got captured, they would never get Woad back, and the Shard was as good as already in Eris’ hands. He couldn’t allow that.

  “We should all get some decent sleep,” Jackalope said. “It’s been a long night and we have a lot of ground to cover once the sun sets. It will be safer to move by nightfall, now that we’re out of the snow. We should be fine hidden here in the woods.” Karya nodded in agreement, settling down and using her pack as a makeshift pillow. She pulled her heavy coat around her like a blanket. “Henry, you can take first watch. You can wake me in a couple of hours.”

  Henry looked a little appalled, but didn’t argue.

  Despite his best intentions, unlike Karya and the strange Fae in the fur cloak, Robin found it difficult to get to sleep. He lay awake for a long while, idly twirling Phorbas’ dagger in his hands, and wondering about Woad, the location of Hiernarbos, and how on earth they were ever going to get there.

  * * *

  They marched at moonrise, making their way through the now dark wood, eventually coming out the other side and onto the lower slopes of what looked like moors. The view was far less wild and free from snow. Cold, craggy moorland rolled eventually into calmer hills and tall grass, studded periodically with huge single stones here and there, grey and silver menhirs, carried down out of the mountains by some ancient glacier long ago and left here like pebbles shaken from a giant shoe. The moon shone down as they made their way across the hills, the whispering grass coming almost to their shoulders in the deepest dips between the hillocks.