The Dresden Files Collection 1-6

by Jim Butcher

  “Meryl!” Fix said. “I thought you were hurt bad.”

  The changeling girl sat up, her face pale, her clothing drenched in blood. “Most of it isn’t mine,” she said, and I knew she was lying. “How is he?”

  Billy had sat me down on the ground at some point, and I felt him poking at my head. I flinched when it got painful. Sitting down helped, and I started to put things together again.

  “His skull isn’t broken,” Billy said. “Maybe a concussion, I don’t know.”

  “Give me a minute,” I said. “I’ll make it.”

  Billy gripped my shoulder, relief in the gesture. “Right. We’re going to have to run for it, Harry. There’s more fight coming toward us.”

  Billy was right. I could hear the sounds of more horses, somewhere nearby in the mist, and the hammering of hundreds of goblin boots striking the ground in step.

  “We can’t run,” Meryl said. “Aurora still has Lily.”

  Billy said, “Talk later. Here they come!” He blurred and dropped to all fours, taking his wolf-form again as we looked up and saw the Sidhe warriors coming toward us.

  The waters behind them abruptly erupted, the still surface of the river boiling up, and cavalry, all dark blue, sea green, deep purple, rose up from under the waves. The riders were more Sidhe warriors, clad in warped-looking armor decorated in stylized snowflakes. There were only a dozen of them to the Summer warriors’ score, but they were mounted and attacking from behind. They cut into the ranks of the Summer warriors, blades flickering, led by a warrior in mail of purest white, bearing a pale and cold-looking blade. The Summer warriors turned to fight, but they’d been taken off guard and they knew it.

  The leader of the Winter attack cut down one warrior, then turned to another, hand spinning through a series of gestures. Cold power surged around that gesture, and one of the Summer warriors simply stopped moving, the crackling in the air around him growing louder as crystals of ice seemed simply to erupt from the surface of his body and armor, frozen from the inside out. In seconds, he was nothing but a slowly growing block of ice around a gold-and-green figure inside, and the pale rider almost negligently nudged the horse into a solid kick.

  The ice shattered into pieces and fell to the ground in a jumbled pile.

  The pale rider took off her helmet and flashed me a brilliant, girlish smile. It was Maeve, the Winter Lady, her green eyes bright with bloodlust, dreadlocks bound close to her head. She almost idly licked blood from her sword, as another Summer warrior fell to one knee, his back to the water, sword raised desperately against the riders confronting him.

  The waters surged again, and pale, lovely arms reached out, wrapping around his throat from behind. I caught a glimpse of golden eyes and a green-toothed smile, and then the warrior’s scream was cut off as he was dragged under the surface. The Summer warriors retreated, swift and in concert. The rest of the mounted Winter warriors set out in pursuit.

  “Your godmother sends her greetings,” Maeve called to me. “I’d have acted sooner, but it would have been a fair fight, and I avoid them.”

  “I need to get to the Table,” I called to her.

  “So I have been told,” Maeve said. She rode her horse over to Lloyd Slate’s unmoving form, and her lovely young face opened into another brilliant smile. “My riders are attacking further down the river, drawing Summer forces that way. You should be able to run upstream.” She leaned down and purred, “Hello, Lloyd. We should have a talk.”

  “Come on, then,” grunted Meryl. “Can you walk, wizard?”

  In answer, I pushed myself to my feet. Meryl stood too, though I saw her face twist with pain as she did. Fix hefted his bloodied monkey wrench. I recovered my staff, but my blasting rod was nowhere to be seen. The black doctor bag lay nearby, and I recovered it, taking time to check its contents before closing it again. “All right, people, let’s go.”

  We started along the stream at a jog. I didn’t know how far we had to go. Everything around us was chaos and confusion. Once a cloud of pixies flew past us, and I found another stretch over the river where spiders as big as footballs had spun webs, trapping dozens of pixies in their strands. A group of faerie hounds, green and grey and savage, went past hot on the heels of a long panther like being headed for the water. Arrows whistled past, and everywhere lay the faerie dead and dying.

  Finally, I felt the ground begin to rise, and looked up to see the hill of the Stone Table before us. I could even see Korrick’s hulking form at the top, as the centaur backed away from the stone figure of Lily, evidently just set upon the table. Aurora, dismounted, was a slender, gleaming form, looking down upon us with anger.

  “Lily!” Meryl called, though her voice had gone thready. Fix whirled to look at her, his eyes alarmed, and Meryl dropped to one knee, her ugly, honest face twisting in pain. “Get her, Fix. Save her and get her home.” She looked around, focusing on me. “You’ll help him?”

  “You paid for it,” I said. “Stay here. Stay down. You’ve done enough.”

  She shook her head and said, “One thing more.” But she settled down on the ground, hand pressed to her wounded side, panting.

  Aurora said something sharp to Korrick. The centaur bowed his head to her and, spear gripped in his hand, came down the hill toward us.

  “Crap,” I said. “Billy, this guy is a heavy hitter. Don’t close with him. See if you can keep him distracted.”

  Billy barked in acknowledgment, and the werewolves shot forward as the centaur descended, fanning out around him and harrying his flanks and rear while their companions dodged his hooves and spear.

  “Stay with Meryl,” I told Fix, and scooted around the werewolves’ flanks, heading up the hill toward the Stone Table.

  I got close enough to the top to see Aurora standing over the statue of Lily. She held Mother Winter’s Unraveling in her fingers, pressed against the statue, and she was tugging sharply at the strands, beginning to pull it to pieces. I felt something as she did, a kind of dark gravity that jerked at my wizard’s senses with sharp, raking fingers. The Unraveling began to come apart, strand by strand and line by line, under Aurora’s slender hands.

  I stretched out my hand, adrenaline and pain giving me plenty of fuel for the magic, and called,“Ventas servitas!” Wind leapt out in a sudden spurt, seizing the Unraveling and tearing it from Aurora’s fingers, sending it spinning through the air toward me. I caught it, stuck my tongue out at Aurora, yelled, “Meep, meep!” and ran like hell.

  “Damn thee, wizard!” screamed Aurora, and the sound raked at me with jagged talons. She lifted her hands and shouted something else, and the ground itself shook, throwing me off my feet. I landed and rolled as best I could down the hill until I reached the bottom. It took me a second to drag in a breath, then I rolled to my back to sit up.

  Sudden wind slashed at me, slamming me back down to the earth, and tore the Unraveling from my hands. I looked up to see Aurora take the bit of cloth from the air with casual contempt, and start back up the hill. I struggled to sit up and follow, but the wind kept me pinned there, unable to rise from the ground.

  “No more interruptions,” Aurora spat, and gestured with one hand.

  The ground screamed. From it, writhing up with whipping, ferocious motion, came a thick hedge of thorns as long as my hand. It rose into place in a ring around the waist of the hill, so dense that I couldn’t see Aurora behind it.

  I fought against Aurora’s spell, but couldn’t overcome it physically, and I didn’t even bother to try to rip it to shreds with sheer main magical strength. I stopped struggling and closed my eyes to begin to feel my way through it, to take it apart from the inside. But even as I did, Fix started screaming, “Harry? Harry! Help!”

  One of the werewolves let loose a high-pitched scream of agony, and then another. My concentration wavered, and I struggled to regain it. Those people were here because of me, and I would be damned if I would let anything more happen to them. I tried to hang on to the focus, the detachment I would
need to concentrate, to unravel Aurora’s spell, but my fear and my anger and my worry made it all but impossible. They would have lent strength to a spell, but this was delicate work, and now my emotions, so often a source of strength, only got in the way.

  Then hooves galloped up, striking the ground near me. I looked up to see the warrior in green armor, the only rider of those original Sidhe cavalry to stay mounted, standing over me, horse stamping, spear leveled at my head.

  “Don’t!” I said. “Wait!”

  But the rider ignored me, lifted the spear, its tip gleaming in the silver light, and drove it down at my unprotected throat.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  The spear drove into the earth beside my neck, and the rider hissed in an impatient female voice, “Hold still.”

  She swung down from the faerie steed, reached up, and took off the masked helm. Elaine’s wheat-brown hair spilled down, escaping from the bun it had been tied in, and she jerked it all the way down irritably. “Hold still. I’ll get that off you.”

  “Elaine,” I said. I went through a bunch of heated emotions, and I didn’t have time for any of them. “I’d say I was glad to see you, but I’m not sure.”

  “That’s because you always were a little dense, Harry,” she said, her voice tart. Then she smoothed her features over, her eyes falling half closed, and spread her gloved hands over my chest. She muttered something to herself and then said, “Here.Samanyana .”

  There was a surge of gentle power, and the wind pinning me to the ground abruptly vanished. I pushed myself back to my feet.

  “All right,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “No,” I said. “I’m not done.” I recovered my valise and my staff. “I need to get through those thorns.”

  “You can’t,” Elaine said. “Harry, I know this spell. Those thorns aren’t just pointy, they’re poisonous. If one of them scratches you, you’ll be paralyzed in a couple of minutes. Two or three will kill you.”

  I scowled at the barrier and settled my grip on my staff.

  “And they won’t burn, either,” Elaine added.

  “Oh.” I ground my teeth. “I’ll just force them aside, then.”

  “That’ll be like holding open a screen door, Harry. They’ll just fall back into place when your concentration wavers.”

  “Then it won’t waver.”

  “You can’t do it, Harry,” Elaine said. “If you start pushing through, Aurora will sense it and she’ll tear you apart. If you’re holding the thorns off you, you won’t be able to defend yourself.”

  I lowered my staff and looked from the thorns back to Elaine. “All right,” I said. “Then you’ll have to hold them off me.”

  Elaine’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “You hold the thorns back. I’ll go through.”

  “You’re going to go up against Aurora?Alone? ”

  “And you’re going to help me,” I said.

  Elaine bit her lip, looking away from me.

  “Come on, Elaine,” I said. “You’ve already betrayed her. And I am going through those thorns, with your help or without it.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yeah, you do,” I said. “If you were going to kill me, you’ve already had your chance. And if Aurora finishes what she’s doing, I’m dead anyway.”

  “You don’t understand—”

  “I know I don’t,” I snapped. “I don’t understand why you’re helping her. I don’t understand how you can stand by and let her do the things she’s done. I don’t understand how you can stand here and let that girl die.” I let that sink in for a second before I added, quietly, “And I don’t understand how you could betray me like that. Again.”

  “For all you know,” Elaine said, “it will happen a third time. I’ll let those thorns close on you halfway through and kill you for her.”

  “Maybe so,” I said. “But I don’t want to believe that, Elaine. We loved each other once upon a time. I know you aren’t a coward and you aren’t a killer. I want to believe that what we had really meant something, even now. That I can trust you with my life the way you can trust me with yours.”

  She let out a bitter little laugh and said, “You don’t know what I am anymore, Harry.” She looked at me. “But I believe you. I know I can trust you.”

  “Then help me.”

  She nodded and said, “You’ll have to run. I’m not as strong as you, and this is brute work. I won’t be able to lift it for long.”

  I nodded at her. Doubt nagged at me as I did. What if she did it again? Elaine hadn’t exactly been sterling in the up-front-honesty department. I watched as she focused, her lovely face going blank, and felt her draw in her power, folding her arms over her chest, palms over either shoulder like an Egyptian sarcophagus.

  Hell, I had ten million ways to die all around me. What was one over another? At least this way, if I went out, I’d go out doing something worthwhile. I turned and crouched, bag and staff in hand.

  Elaine murmured something, and a wind stirred around her, lifting her hair around her head. She opened her eyes, though they remained distant, unfocused, and spread both hands to her sides.

  Wind lashed out in a column five feet around and drove into the wall of thorns. The thorns shuddered and then began to give, bending away from Elaine’s spell.

  “Go!” she gasped. “Go, hurry!”

  I ran.

  The wind almost blinded me, and I had to run crouched down, hoping that none of my exposed skin would brush against any thorns. I felt one sharp tug along my jacket, but it didn’t pierce the leather. Elaine didn’t let me down. After a few seconds, I burst through the wall and came out in the clear on top of the hill of the Stone Table.

  The Table stood where it had been before, but the runes and sigils scrawled over its surface now blazed with golden light. Aurora stood at the Table, fingers flying over the Unraveling, its threads pressed against the head of the statue of the kneeling girl, still upon the table. I circled a bit to one side to stay out of her peripheral vision and ran toward her.

  When I was only a few feet away, the Unraveling suddenly exploded in a wash of cold white light. The light washed over the statue in a wave, and as it passed, cold white marble warmed into flesh, her stone waves of hair becoming emerald-green tresses. Lily opened her eyes and let out a gasp, looking around dazedly.

  Aurora took Lily by the throat, drove the changeling down to the surface of the Stone Table with her hand, and drew the knife from her belt.

  It wasn’t all that gentlemanly, but I slugged the Summer Lady in the back with a two-handed swing of my staff.

  As I did, the stars evidently reached the right position, and we reached midnight, the end of the height of summer, and the glowing runes on the Table flared from golden light to cold, cold blue.

  The blow jarred the knife from Aurora’s hand, and it fell to the surface of the table. Lily let out a scream and got out from under Aurora’s hand, rolling across the table’s surface and away from her.

  Aurora turned to me, as fast as any of the other Sidhe, leaning back on the table and planting both feet against my chest. She kicked hard and drove me back, and before I was done rolling she had called a gout of fire and sent it roaring toward me. I got to my knees and lifted my staff, calling together my will in time to parry the strike, deflecting the flame into the misty sky.

  The red light of it fell on a green faerie steed leaping in the air above the thorns. It didn’t make it over the wall but fall twenty feet short, screaming horribly as it landed on the poisoned thorns. Its rider didn’t go down with it, though. Talos, his face bloodied, leapt off the horse’s back, did a neat flip in the air, and came down inside the circle of thorns unscathed.

  Aurora let out a wild laugh and said, “Kill him, Lord Marshal!”

  Talos drew his sword and came for me. I thought the first blow was a thrust for my belly, but he’d suckered me, and the sword darted to one side to send my staff spinning off into the thorns. As
he stalked me, I gripped my valise and backed away, looking around me for a weapon, for something to buy me a few seconds, for options.

  Then a basso bellow shook the hilltop and froze even Aurora for a second. The wall of thorns shook and quivered, and something massive bellowed again and tore through it, into the open. The troll was huge, and green, and hideous, and strong. It wielded an axe in one hand like a plastic picnic knife and was covered in swelling welts, poisoned wounds, and its own dark-green blood. It had a horrible wound in its side, ichor flowing openly from it. It was dragging itself along despite the wounds, but it was dying.

  And it was Meryl. She’d Chosen.

  I could only stare as I recognized her features, inside the insane fury of the troll’s face. It reached for Talos, and the Lord Marshal of Summer whirled, his bright sword taking off one of the troll’s hands. She got the other on his leg, though, and dragged him beneath her even as she fell, the weight of her pinning him down, crushing him to the ground with a choked, gurgling cry of rage and triumph.

  I looked back, to see Aurora catch Lily by her green hair, and drag her back toward the Table. I ran to it, and beat her to the knife, a curved number of chipped stone, dragging it across the Table and to me.

  “Fool,” Aurora hissed. “I will tear out her throat with my bare hands.”

  I threw the knife away and said, “No, you won’t.”

  Aurora laughed and asked, eyes mad and enticing, “And why not?”

  I undid the clasp of the valise. “Because I know something you don’t.”

  “What?” she laughed. “What could you possibly know that matters now?”

  I gave her a cold smile and said, “The phone number to Pizza Spress.” I opened the bag and snarled, “Get her, Toot!”

  There was a shrill, piping blast from inside the valise and Toot-toot sailed up out of it, leaving a trail of crimson sparkles in his wake. The little faerie still wore his makeshift armor, but his weapons had been replaced with what I’d had Billy pick up from Wal-Mart—an orange plastic box knife, its slender blade extended from its handle.