by Alan Baxter
‘You think to throw yourself from the tower like a love-struck princess?’ she demanded. She raised her hands theatrically and her magic flooded out, her ’sign blinding. The room shifted and warped, the walls stretched, the ceiling shot upwards. The window was dragged up with it. With the only opening ten metres above the ground, the Lady turned to Alex and stared down at him. ‘Perhaps that will stop you trying, imbecile. Understand, you are utterly powerless here.’
Alex snarled and jumped to his feet. ‘Fucking kill me!’ He slammed into the Lady, hammered her with blows and managed to actually drive her back a few paces before her torture tore through him again. Though he tried to fight it, she proved herself right. He was powerless.
He writhed in pain as she moved back across the cell. ‘Pathetic!’ she said with a laugh and slammed the door closed behind her.
Alex lay curled on the floor, bereft.
Silhouette sat in the shadow of trees, in the darkness of night. Follow the blue fucking sun. The only information she had was useless until the day came around again. Was that just a matter of hours? She thought she had put a lot of distance between herself and the Erlking and didn’t know if she had run towards the ice mountain or away. And how did you follow a sun anyway? It wasn’t like a distant star, static in the night sky. The sun travelled across the land. In the mortal realm she could follow the sun from east to west and what good would that do?
Perhaps following the blue sun meant heading in the direction where it rose in the morning. It was her best guess so far, but she still felt as though she was swimming in molasses and slowly sinking.
A sound in the trees distracted her melancholy. She looked up to see a group of the huge ape-headed birds she had encountered on arriving. They seemed to be roosting, heads slumped onto their chests. The noise came again as one shuffled, shifting the branches and leaves around itself. Four of them up there. Silhouette nodded to herself. Time to get proactive.
She climbed as quietly as possible into the lower limbs of the tree directly beneath one of the creatures. Its ape feet were curled around the branch, gripping tightly. She reached slowly forward and clamped one hand tight around its ankle. It woke with a violent burst of movement and noise, crying out. The others woke with it and screamed like furious chimpanzees as Silhouette dragged the one she had caught to the ground. She slammed one fist into its face, stunning it. ‘You want some of this too?’ she yelled up at the others.
‘Help me!’ the one on the ground cried weakly.
Silhouette shifted through her panther form and back to her Fey shape, made herself as monstrous and dangerous as she could. The three remaining creatures fled.
‘Your friends are shit,’ Silhouette said to the one she held.
‘What do you want? I’ll get it for you. Anything!’
‘Actually, I just want information.’
The creature stilled beneath her. ‘What is it?’
‘Where’s the ice mountain? And the Lady’s palace?’
‘Same place. Her mountain is the palace.’
Silhouette gripped the thing’s throat with a long, Fey hand. ‘And where is that?’
‘Just go there. Just go.’
‘How do I get there?’ Silhouette yelled.
One spindly arm emerged from under a twisted wing, pointed uncertainly. ‘That way? That way, if you like, and on till morning. Or right now. Just go.’ Its ape face was confused, like it was speaking to a child.
‘How far? How long will it take?’
The creature shook its head, frowning in consternation. ‘As long as you want. Just go. Fold that way. Here, there, all the same.’
Silhouette remembered her travels thus far, the distances seemingly arbitrary, adjusted with intent. Fucking Kreek could have explained this concept to her and made her life a lot easier. But of course, he was Fey and they liked nothing more than corruption and lies and games. Why would he make it any easier for her? She looked along the creature’s still outstretched arm. ‘How will I know if I go off-course?’
‘Off-course?’
Silhouette growled with annoyance and wrenched the thing’s throat and head in opposite directions. The bones in its neck crunched and disintegrated. It squealed, high and shrill and brief, and lay still.
Follow the blue sun. She realised it was probably simply a figure of speech in this messed up land, a nonsense phrase. She stood and walked in the direction the ape-bird had pointed. It was as good a choice as any. Ice mountain, she repeated over and over in her mind. She let the landscape twist and warp beneath her. The normal rules of physics held no sway here. She swallowed the nausea travelling seemed to give her and closed her eyes. After a few paces, keeping her mantra rolling over in her mind, she opened them again, saw ridged hills in the distance. She let her desire to go there to the fore and found herself striding up rocky green flanks. She blinked again and saw a huge white edifice towering above her. The top of the mountain was a palace. It wasn’t built atop the rise, but carved from it. The mountain itself became a huge, icy palace at its peak. A pathway wound up from the green hills, zigzagging up the pale flanks. Silhouette concentrated on the foot of the pathway and she was there.
The mountain palace gleamed in the light of three moons. After all her panic and concern and blundering around, it was done. Fucking Kreek and his lost at sea monologue. She pictured herself and Alex ripping that bastard to pieces and it momentarily gave her strength.
But what now?
She couldn’t simply wander in and get Alex. This Lady was a powerful monarch, even if not everyone here conceded to her rule, and Alex her most prized prisoner. A village lay nestled in the crook of two ridges not far from where she stood. A few Fey and other creatures strolled languidly through its streets, though the place seemed quiet and calm under the mantle of night. A couple of strange vehicles moved. A long, cigar-shaped balloon descended as she watched and a Fey appeared on a rooftop to tether it in place. From the small gondola beneath it, three more emerged and disappeared inside through a doorway on the roof.
Silhouette watched it all from a distance, like observing a puppet play. She needed to get the lay of the land, decide how to move. Perhaps the Fey in that village were among the Lady’s most faithful and would have reason to come and go from the mountain. Surely there must be something to learn down there.
She made her way towards it, following the ridge as it sloped gently down. She didn’t try to fold the space between even though she was getting the hang of it. She needed time to think. Repeatedly she looked up to the palace, high above her. It had all the hallmarks of the impregnable fortress, the only obvious entrance from the path leading up. She could make out a courtyard at the end of it and huge double gates that shone silver in the night.
She looked back towards the village and the cigar balloon recently moored there. Could she commandeer something like that and approach from the air? Even if she had to steal an aircraft, given that she had nothing to trade, she had little idea how to pilot one. And even then, surely the palace would defend itself, and in this land of ubiquitous magic, that defence could be swift and deadly. Frustration burned in her gut.
Shouts and commotion erupted from the village. Bolts of energy and sounds of breaking wood and screams of pain. Silhouette dropped into the lee of a rock pile. The village streets were suddenly filled with Fey and someone came striding through the throng. The Fey buckled under the assault, snapping and flying, tossed around like dolls. The person doing the damage was tall and thin and pale and human. And bald. Silhouette’s heart hammered in her chest. Impossible! Hot on the heels of the pale man, another came, looking for all the world like Indiana Jones brandishing a long, gleaming sword swirling with magesign. His swordplay was expert and Fey limbs were sliced free, heads rolled.
The two men cut a swathe through the village, shielded from the offensive magic of the Fey by a glistening ward of energy that seemed to emanate from the man with sword. Admit it, Silhouette thought. That’s Claude Darvill and
Robert fucking Hood! How was that possible? Darvill was one thing, but Alex had buried Hood forever. And they were here in Faerie? The protection they walked under reminded Silhouette of the magic Darvill had used in Obsidian to protect Haydon. But in this case, the physical was let through and the shield rebuffed arcane energies.
What kind of weapon did Darvill wield that could rend Fey with such ease? And Hood literally tore them apart with his bare hands. Such strength. They marched through the village and mounted the path leading towards the mountain top. They were coming for Alex.
15
Silhouette tore her gaze away from the mayhem below. She had to get to the palace before Hood and Darvill, no matter the cost. They were a fair distance behind and seemed to be enjoying the carnage. Perhaps it would delay them.
She ran back towards the path up the ice mountain. Her long, thin Fey legs ate up the distance and she blinked, dragged herself through the land with each breath, folded the space between her and the courtyard high above. Several Fey emerged from the frozen citadel as she approached, looked down to the village. With any luck, these would slow Hood and Darvill too.
She burst onto the courtyard, staggered by the size of the huge silver gates towering over her, intricate and beautiful, like finely wrought lace, gleaming in the blue-white light of Fey moons. The courtyard was carved from ice, but it wasn’t cold. At least, not as cold as she had imagined it would be. As the thought occurred to her, the chill drastically increased. She could not wait to be out of this twisted place.
Trees dotted the courtyard edges, mighty, ancient oaks and yews and other types she had never seen before. Among the crowding Fey, she slowed her pace. She needed to remember caution. Some of them cast curious glances at her, but perhaps they thought her flight was related to the chaos below.
A huge tearing sound rent the air and all turned to see one of the massive trees split from roots to crown. From the yawning blackness within, the Erlking emerged, his face a mask of fury. Silhouette cursed. What next? She ducked behind a small group of stunned Fey, hoping he hadn’t seen her. But he didn’t even pause to look around the group. Head down, antlers forward as if for battle, he strode into the stronghold. From the gaping tree, more creatures appeared, hot on the Erlking’s heels. They looked like heavily muscled dogs, walking tall on their hind legs. Their backs arched in a wave of vicious spines, their snouts short and snarling, hands long and tipped with glistening black claws. More and more stepped from the darkness and marched into the palace. Several of the Fey present ran back inside, their apprehension palpable, while others continued down the path towards the village.
With a confused shake of her head, Silhouette slipped inside with the dozens of marching dog-beasts. They entered a large room with benches down either side. Before them stood huge, arched double doors, dark wood, inset with a shining silver tree. The tree glowed and twisted, like it was whipped by a strong wind. One side was open, leading to a huge throne room with high ceilings and carved columns. The ice-carved chamber was scattered with plants in large vases, tapestries, paintings. Several Fey milled about inside, an air of tense concern heavy among them. As the Erlking and his soldiers marched through, they crouched into readiness. The air became charged with the tension of imminent battle.
At the end of the room, two large thrones sat on a raised dais. On one throne a regal Fey woman reclined. She leapt to her feet in outrage at the Erlking’s approach.
‘What is the meaning of this intrusion?’
The Erlking shoved aside any who dared to stand between him and the woman. ‘Lady of the Fey,’ he said, voice dripping with disdain. ‘What do you mean by sending your emissaries to kill my servants?’
Silhouette felt something colder than the ice stir in her belly. This was her fault. The Erlking presumed she had told the truth about looking on behalf of the Lady, and she had killed his best servant. And this was the Lady. And Hood and Darvill were rending their way up the mountain. Could things have turned more to shit? Suddenly every enemy she could imagine was in one place.
The Lady walked down to stand nose to nose with the Erlking. ‘You have some nerve showing your horns in this place!’ She gestured to two guards standing nervously beside her. ‘Go and ensure our guest doesn’t get any ideas while this idiocy prevails.’ She put her hands on the Erlking’s chest and shoved him away from her. Pandemonium erupted as dog-beasts and Fey clashed with roars and bursts of magic. The Lady braced as the Erlking dipped his antlers and bullrushed her.
The clash of their impact shook the hall. The two guards instructed to protect the guest ran from the room. Silhouette saw her chance and took it, hightailed it after them, a grin spreading across her face. Perhaps the havoc in Faerie this night would work to her advantage after all.
The Fey ran through a door in the corner of the throne room and up a spiral staircase, taking the steps two or three at a time. The sounds of battle below intensified, the roar of the Erlking, the scream of the Lady. And more distant sounds of fighting, presumably Robert Hood battling his way up to the courtyard. How the fuck was that Robert Hood? Darvill must have done this, the fool!
Silhouette’s blood chilled and she ran on, up and up, level after level. The sounds of fighting faded below. The Fey ahead of her turned along a corridor and called out something she didn’t catch to companions unseen. She slowed her pace, snuck along the passage. At the end it opened into a room with several doors along one side. Four Fey moved towards one of the doors and looked in. They nodded and muttered to each other. Silhouette ducked out of sight as they turned back towards her.
The palace shook, massive pulses of magesign washed up through the structure. A strange, almost animal klaxon sound rang through the air. The four Fey became agitated, arguing. One gestured to the door they had looked in before, another towards the corridor leading away. They were clearly torn in their duty. Silhouette took a chance.
She ran forward. ‘The Lady is battling an Erlking! We need to help her.’
They looked at her in confusion. ‘We know!’ one said. ‘Can she stand against one? And his beasts?’
‘There are dozens of them down there!’ Silhouette said, the desperation in her voice not feigned in the slightest. ‘They’re tearing the place apart!’ As if to confirm her words, the palace shook again as if bombs were going off below.
For a moment she thought they would call her bluff regardless. Then, as one, they bolted for the corridor and the stairs leading down. Silhouette turned to run with them, took a few paces, then dropped back. Hoping they wouldn’t notice her absence, she ran back to the door they’d looked in. It was solid, a slab of ice. What had they been looking at?
She paused, took a deep breath. Remember where you are. Everything about this place was magic. Fey magic, which was an intrinsic part of her. No matter how much she denied it, it was in her nonetheless. She willed the door to reveal what it held, looked between the shades and planes of enchantment that wove through everything. A panel cleared in the ice and Silhouette gasped. Alex lay inside, bleeding and battered. He stared blankly at the ceiling above him. Only the tiny movements of his chest gave her the relief he wasn’t dead.
She drove her mind through the door’s magic, looking for some way to release it. Muffled explosions rattled up through the floor. Voices of anger and pain carried with them.
Silhouette’s heart hammered, her hands shook. Come on, come on, come on! And there it was, the lacework of Fey magic locking the door into place. She stripped it out, working at it like she might deconstruct a Kin ward. It was slow and fiddly work and not entirely familiar. The palace boomed and shook. She heard several sets of footsteps pounding towards her. ‘The Lady is moving!’ a voice shouted. ‘Protect the Caine!’
Silhouette tried to concentrate only on the door as the footsteps pounded closer. I just want to get in there! she screamed silently and nausea twisted her gut. This place, it was ridiculous. Could she just …? She looked into the cell and willed herself inside, blinked. She sto
od beside Alex’s prone form.
He started, scrambled back on hands and heels, face racked with pain. ‘Fucking kill me already!’ he yelled.
Silhouette’s heart cracked. ‘It’s me,’ she said, and shifted back to her human shape.
Alex’s eyes widened before his face twisted in grief. ‘No, surely not.’
‘Alex, we have to …’
‘Kill me!’
‘What?’
Alex moved onto his knees, reached out to her like the supplicant Christ. ‘It’s all me, Silhouette. Everything is because of me. They’ve taken my powers, so you have to kill me. You have to!’
Silhouette grabbed one wrist, hauled him to his feet. ‘Fuck that, Iron Balls, we are getting out of here.’
Alex resisted, shook his head. ‘Even if we do, they’ll only come again. It can only end with my death, don’t you see?’
‘Alex, Hood is free. And he’s here.’
‘What?’
Frantic voices argued outside the cell door.
‘Alex, please, we have to go.’ Silhouette was distraught at the total despair in Alex, but she refused to let him give in to it. ‘We need a Fey gate, Alex, and we can get home. Then we can deal with everything else.’
‘Hood is here?’
The cell door slammed open and three Fey strode in. They paused for a second, stunned at the presence of Silhouette with their prisoner.
‘Grab them both!’ one yelled.
Silhouette, her grip still tight about Alex’s wrist, ran for a gap between them and kept her eyes on the open room beyond. She blinked and forced the space to twist around her. The Fey roared, grabbed at them as she pulled Alex through, their surprise buying her precious moments. She hauled Alex along as the three gave chase.
‘Fucking run, Alex!’ she screamed and he finally found his feet.
‘We have to deal with Hood!’ he said as they ran.
‘Yes, but not here! At home.’
