The Wild Hunt (Faerie Sworn Book 1)

by Ron C. Nieto

The thing crested the hill and she whimpered. The rider’s head rotated to look around, bare neck muscles quivering and pale tendons gleaming under the yellowing veins and black droplets of blood, and its empty gaze found hers.

  Thud. Thud. Thud. It advanced with ponderous steps, showing no sign of urgency. Lily stepped back, forgetting about subtlety, and the verdant plants cracked beneath her feet. She dared to lower her eyes for an instant and saw the stalks yellowing out, becoming brittle and dead before her very eyes. She looked up again and the horse huffed. She felt lightheaded and nauseated, and for every step of their dance, the creature got closer.

  She had no more iron coins. She wished she’d thought to bring the box of nails with her. They probably were too small, and the monster too big, but they would’ve bought her some time to escape. As it was, her hands fumbled blindly for a fist-sized rock she could use as a makeshift weapon. The crumbling walls of the tower were too weathered by age, though, and her fingers only skimmed small chips before feeling out the larger blocks.

  The thing was on her. She smelled the tang of blood and the sweetness of decay mixed with salt water and drying algae and her back hit the ruined tower wall. She tensed to turn and bolt, to do anything but cower and die.

  “Kelpie,” it said, freezing her in place. Its voice came from both heads, a dying gurgle from the rider and a wordless moan from the mount. Just as its skin had been flayed alive, also its tones were stripped of anything superficial, leaving behind a painful rasp that wrecked her brain like nails against a chalkboard. “Kelpie,” it repeated, reaching out one deformed hand. Its fingers curled and his fore claw ran a feather-light touch along her neck and down her chest. It was sharp as a razor and Lily felt droplets of blood blossoming in its wake. The rose charms hanging from her necklace jingled.

  “Yes,” she panted, her heart beating in her throat. “That’s a gift from a kelpie.”

  The monster curled its claw, slipping it between the silver chain and her skin. It cocked both heads to the side and the equine one drew closer. It inhaled deeply and fat, yellow drops of pus oozed from its nostrils with the exhale.

  “A gift,” Troy’s voice said. His tone was conversational and he approached them, clean of most of the blood, both redcap and his, and more composed than when he had left.

  The creature’s clawed hand dropped the necklace to fall back against Lily’s skin and it took a nonchalant step back.

  “Kelpie,” it said, more like a greeting than like a question. “Thief.”

  “No.” Troy shook his head. “She is the rightful owner of my obligations.”

  The creature turned around and left, following the path it had followed up, walking calmly and silently except for the soft thuds of its hooves against the ground. In its wake laid a trail of dead plants and caked soil.

  When it went down the edge and disappeared from view, Lily broke down. She didn’t cry, not anymore, but she folded herself into Troy and held on while hoping the tremors would subside. The permanent coolness of his skin permeated her clothes, chilling her to the bone, and clear droplets of fresh water dripped from his hair onto hers, but still she held on. After a surprised moment, his arm came around her shoulders and offered an awkward support.

  They stayed like that for a long time.

  “You had to save me again,” Lily said when the tremors finally subsided.

  She felt him shake his head and his words reverberated from his chest, under her ear. “You were never in danger.”

  Lily let out a humorless laugh. “We must have seen different things back there.”

  “You met an… acquaintance of mine. A kindred fay. You would call him a friend or ally, perhaps. He never intended you any harm. However,” he added after a pause, “it is true that his breath can be noxious for mortals. Do you feel ill, Lily?”

  Her head spun. “That monster was your—” She cut herself, breathing hard, and tried again. “You call that thing a friend?”

  A shoulder shrugged under Lily’s panicked grip. “In as much as I would use the word ‘friend.’ It is certainly preferable to ‘monster’ or ‘thing.’”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, feeling ashamed even through her fear.

  “You knew no better,” he replied, dismissing it.

  They stayed in silence another minute or so, and Lily forced her fingers to relax their hold on him. “Please don’t say ‘I told you so.’ Don’t tell me again that this is not my world and that I should return to Manchester.”

  “You should not.” His words surprised her enough to make her step back and search his eyes. “I was mistaken,” he went on. “The events have much to do with you, and you must not return to your home yet.”

  “I—I—Well, I wasn’t expecting to hear that.” She bit her lip. “What made you change your mind?”

  “Redcaps do not negotiate. They do not trade. They never compromise. They fact they showed an interest in apprehending you makes me uneasy.”

  She considered his words. “For interrogation? I don’t know a thing… But Grandma would’ve had answers, answers she might have given them if she thought they could protect me. And we didn’t find any blood in the house, except mine. Do you think…?”

  “It is a distinct possibility,” he admitted.

  “If she’s alive, we can save her.”

  Troy was shaking his head even before she finished her sentence. “The doctor might still be alive, but breaking free of such obvious omens of death is unheard of. Her time is upon her.”

  “I’m not going to give up while there’s hope. I won’t sit back and let her be trapped by bogeys or redcaps or who knows what else. I will find her.”

  “Finding her might be a trap.”

  “So we take the risk. If we know about it ahead of time, we should be able to avoid it, right?”

  “It is not so simple. A trap laid out for you would confirm my suspicions.”

  “You can always share them, you know.”

  “The bogeys act against their nature. The redcaps act against their nature. Therefore, there is something commanding them. I fear I know what it might be.” He averted his gaze and stared listlessly into the night, his countenance evidencing as much distress as it ever had. Lily waited for a moment for him to continue, and then she prompted him.

  “Tell me?”

  Troy sighed. “Come, Lily. There is someone I would like you to meet.”

  He began to walk, but her fingers closed around his wrist. “Wait,” she said. “Is this friend like that other one, just now?”

  He smirked, his eyes twinkling in mischief, and Lily realized she had sort of missed that look. “Not quite like him, no.”

  “Oh. Okay, then. Let’s go and meet this person.”

  With a nod, he guided her down the hilltop, following invisible paths around the vegetation that seemed to part on command for him. When they reached the bottom, he stopped, disentangled his arm from her and took a moment to change. His brow furrowed with concentration and Lily thought his lips tightened a little as if in pain. His form rippled and shifted, the darkness enveloping him and growing to encompass his horse form. It held, straining and pulsing for a split second, and then the change was upon him. The horse bowed his head, breathing heavily, but then he fixed her with his unnerving green stare and she shook off thoughts of weakness.

  Lily clambered onto his back, still awkwardly but with more surety each time. She twined her fingers in his wet mane and felt his magic at work, gently caressing her skin and cocooning her so she wouldn’t fall. It felt strangely intimate, especially when there wasn’t an urgency to hurry the process and she wasn’t trying to keep her mind off the fact she was riding him. She squeezed her tights against his flanks and tightened her fingers, uncomfortable, and the magic settled.

  “Fresh water is not quite as harsh on its sprites as salt, so I believe you will find Glaistig to be quite comely,” his voice said in her head, conversationally, as he began an easy canter. “And you shall be safe, for she dislikes devo
uring anything but young and hale men.”

  “What?” she screeched.

  She got an impression of wry mirth as Troy broke into a full gallop.

  C H A P T E R XV

  Troy ran into the forest, but at some point, Lily felt him doubling back, taking a twisting path back to the outskirts and the river. The previous times she had ridden him, he had moved like a shadow gliding over the land and it had been difficult to get a sense of direction, but on this occasion, she could track their progress. She was also very aware of the way his muscles strained below her and of his flanks rising and falling with the strain of the quick canter.

  Had it always been like that? Or had he been wounded more grievously than he admitted to during the redcap encounter?

  As if reading her mind, he snorted and jerked off course, bursting through the dense foliage and down the sloping glen into the river. The waters of the Dee were freezing cold in spite of the summer and Lily’s teeth chattered when a few splashes caught her lower legs and hands. Then, he stopped and shifted, not giving her time to react.

  The darkness around her was thick and soft like velvet and she felt the magic that had linked them together dissolving gently, like a feather-light caress. It lasted but a heartbeat, and when it was over, she found herself waist-deep in the water, pressed up close against his back, her fingers still tangled in his wet hair. The current enveloped them and carried on with a faint tinge of red.

  She wanted to ask if he was alright. But she didn’t dare.

  One of his hands came up, settling over hers. Tugged a little.

  “I’m sorry,” she said very quietly as soon as she realized she was still holding on to him. She let go and he took a step forward, shaking his head and slicking his hair back into place with his free hand. The other didn’t let go of her and she realized there were white half-moons in her palm from the strength with which she had clutched him. “I didn’t mean to tear off your scalp,” she added after a moment of silence. “I’m really sorry.”

  “You apologize and thank and say too much, Lily,” he said, turning to face her. His tone was frustrated, just like when they had bartered questions and answers and she kept missing the right ones, but she thought there was a note of wry amusement in there too.

  “Sorry, didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to.” She caught her opening too late and had to smile when he lifted a brow. Definitely amusement. “Why is it wrong, anyway?”

  He shrugged. The lines of his body, Lily noted, were beginning to relax for the first time since they approached her grandmother’s house.

  “I should not say it is wrong. It does acknowledge a favor is owed.”

  Something stirred in her old memories. “And favors are the currency of faeries,” she ventured.

  “Just so.” His fingers slipped from hers at last and he began walking down the current. For him, the water only rose to his hips. “Come now. Let us find Glaistig and be done.”

  By the time he made to the riverbank, the cold had seeped into Lily’s bones and her teeth chattered.

  “I said you need not fear,” Troy said while he watched her struggle up the mud, drenched and slipping every other step. “Why would you tremble so?”

  “I don’t know.” She slipped again, reached for a small rock to steady herself and overbalanced, pitching forward. “Maybe because you’ve insisted on walking in freezing water when it turns out it wasn’t necessary?”

  “You are cold.” Was that look confusion upon his face?

  She sighed. “Yeah, Troy. I’m cold as a Popsicle.”

  He grabbed her by the arm and helped her along the few steps remaining until she was clear of the treacherous slope. Then, moving with the care he would show not to startle a wild animal, he touched the side of her face with the back of his fingers. The contact was warm and Lily felt a new tremor that had nothing to do with exposure.

  “A Popsicle must be something cold indeed,” he said, frowning. His fingers moved and touched the other side of her face, almost as if he were awed.

  “So are you going to tell me why the splash?”

  “No.” He smiled, tight-lipped, the expression not reaching his eyes. Lily realized with a start that, up to that blundering question of hers, he had been wearing an open expression.

  “Wait,” she said, shaking off her thoughts and rushing not to be left behind. “Is there… Can you do something to help? With the cold.”

  “It does not threaten your life.”

  “No, it only makes my teeth clatter and my hands shake and my thoughts run around inside my head.”

  “Judging from your much-too open attitude, I dare say your thoughts find that ‘scattered’ is their natural state.”

  Lily stopped walking and stared at him, not sure how to proceed. It had almost seemed like Troy was playful in spite of his words. He was obviously still frustrated at the way she spoke, or at what she said, or didn’t say—she wasn’t quite sure where the fault lay—but there was also a hint of long-suffering amusement in his tone and his eyes. What was the correct answer to that?

  “Well, well, is that the doctor’s whelp?” said a woman’s voice.

  Troy’s eyes darted behind Lily and he inclined his head a fraction, half respect and half camaraderie. “Glaistig.”

  Doing her best to still her chills, Lily turned very slowly toward the voice. There, on the riverside, standing where not a moment earlier she herself had been trampling, stood the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. She had a magnificent green dress of spun silk, like a maiden from an Arthurian tale, and her auburn hair fell in rebellious curls down to her hips. Her skin was fair like porcelain, as soft-looking as Troy’s and even a touch more translucent. Her eyes shone aquamarine. Her lips were full, red, and currently parted in a smile, showing her white teeth.

  Lily stared at that smile, mesmerized.

  “Kelpie,” she said. Her lips moved, revealed new flashes of white. “It is pleasant to see you, even in the present company. To what do I owe the honor?”

  The smile widened and twisted a little and the minute gestured served to convey how much of a jest she made of the term “honor.”

  “Is it so rare in this day and age to visit my good neighbor?” Troy said.

  She let out a delighted burst of laughter and Lily managed to tear her eyes away from her mouth.

  Her mouth, full of white, sharp, pointy teeth.

  “It truly is, my old friend,” Glaistig said. “And while I do love your presence and your words, do tell me the truth now. Why did you seek me?”

  Troy nodded in acknowledgment. “To present you with a mystery and see if perchance you could unveil it.” Then he added as an afterthought, “I must confess, however, that your directness presents me with yet another mystery to add to the first. Should I ask what ails you?”

  “You should not. You should ask your question instead and let us see if our two mysteries are not, after all, one and the same. And you simply must introduce me to your mortal friend. I guessed correctly, did I not?” Glaistig’s attention fastened on Lily then.

  She had been observing her and her interactions with Troy, the both of them thrusting and parrying words as if they were master fencers. Watching the graceful exchange, catching the unspoken nuances and feeling how a hundred more details slipped by out of her grasp, she had understood a bit better Troy’s insistence on speaking properly and even the disappointment he showed when faced with her own blunt, often misplaced questions and comments. When the focus of the beautiful fay fell on her, Lily felt very small, like a child playing make-believe in an adult world.

  She opened her mouth to reply and introduce herself, but—

  “So you did,” said Troy, smoothly speaking over her. “Glaistig, do allow me to introduce the good Doctor’s Whelp.”

  Lily’s mouth closed again and she realized she would have given away her name once more had Troy not prevented her. If Glaistig took notice of the near miss, her expression showed nothing.

  “Inde
ed. There is a certain family resemblance, would you not say? But enough of pleasantries. Be my guests, and once comfortable, we will speak more.”

  Glaistig lifted her skirts to protect them from the mud and disappeared into thin air. She had opened a faerie path, much like the one Troy had tested her with. One step had been enough to take her from one side to the next and Lily couldn’t stop staring.

  “Come,” Troy said, walking toward the opening. “Do not tarry or you shall cause offense.”

  Lily followed him, one foot in front of the other, and she knew she should be paying attention, trying to discern the opening from the solid world. She knew it was important.

  But she could only think of Glaistig lifting the hem of her skirts. She had revealed cloven feet.

  Where Troy’s haven had been lush and green, Glaistig’s path led to what looked like the same muddy, barren river bank, adorned only by outcrops of rock and one gnarled tree.

  It was under that tree that she sat, perched on a stone like a queen upon her throne. With a gesture of her hand, she commanded them to make themselves comfortable, disregarding the fact that there were no other seats around her. Troy simply sat on the ground, his long limbs gracefully arranged so that it seemed as if he were lounging somewhere fit for a king, and Lily resigned herself.

  More cold. More mud.

  She chose a spot close to Troy, as appealing as any other, and tried to imitate his poise. It earned her a bemused glance from Glaistig.

  “Such an interesting little mortal,” she said. “Tell me, Kelpie, how did you come by her?”

  “Where would the fun be if all secrets were to be revealed?” Troy smiled. “I believe it is more than enough to address the matter of the doctor herself for the time being.”

  He had sidestepped the question while redirecting the conversation to what he truly wished to know and had done so in such an off-hand way that Lily would have been hard pressed to note the maneuver if she hadn’t been looking for it. Glaistig, however, acknowledged his move with a polite nod.

  “The doctor, then. In truth, I do not know what you might hope to learn from me. You were always closer to her than I.”