“We’ve no time to entertain Mab,” Whitechurch said, sounding impatient. Blackwood sighed; he knew the Fae did not appreciate rudeness. But the Goodfellow didn’t seem put out.
“Her Majesty says it’s a matter of a toll.”
Magnus flinched, and I barely kept from cursing. Still, there’d be no progress until we appeased Mab, and Whitechurch seemed to understand that as well. The creature led us away, and the call for the squadrons to hold position rang out. Soon we’d lost them in the dark.
After a few turns down a rocky road, we arrived at a wooden door in a great rock face. The Goodfellow tapped his spear against the door and it swung open, revealing a low-ceilinged room, rather like a burrow. The place smelled peaty and damp. I rubbed my hands together, willing myself to take heart. We’d be gone from this place soon.
Mab appeared quite literally from nowhere. Her midnight-blue dress, studded with pearls, was so low-cut it went to her navel. Much was revealed.
“Is it time for the war yet?” She clapped her little hands like a gleeful child.
“We are prepared to move, Majesty,” Whitechurch said. He already sounded tired of indulging the queen.
“Oh, I’m sure you are. And you will be moving. Shortly.” She smiled, showing a bit too many sharp teeth for my liking, and played with the skirt around her legs. “My tall one will be quite safe. As for the rest of you, who can tell?”
I didn’t like the way she’d said that. The wooden door had vanished, leaving a wall of solid earth. Whitechurch’s words became clipped.
“Enough of this. When do we leave?”
“You leave now.” Mab reclined onto a chaise of moss, wriggling her bare toes. “What a shame, tall girl, that your friend turned so terribly shadowlike. Such a disappointment.”
It became difficult to breathe.
“How do you know about Rook?” I murmured, gooseflesh creeping up my arms. Mab giggled, as though I’d asked a silly thing.
“Because I ordered it, of course. Where’s my little doctor?” She peered around the room, one hand shading her eyes for dramatic effect. Someone moved in the corner, and then Fenswick appeared, holding his four hands behind his back in an apologetic fashion. “Your human was healing, apparently. Someone had to fix that. What would dear R’hlem do without his Shadow and Fog?”
I couldn’t have understood what she’d said. But the way Fenswick averted his eyes, his ears drooping, was undeniable.
Rook had been healing, and Fenswick had poisoned him.
“Madame, are you saying you had knowledge of the Ancients’ hold on that boy?” Whitechurch reached for his stave.
Mab opened her mouth and screamed. Her scream pierced my brain and rattled my vision, a siren song from hell. My ears felt as if they might explode.
Something twined about my arms and pulled them to my sides. Vines sprouted from the earth and coiled down from the ceiling. A loop of vine cinched around my waist, dragging me to my knees. Blackwood, Dee, and Magnus shouted as the same happened to them. Soldiers, the Goodfellow among them, burst from out of the very walls, going from clay to flesh in an instant, and forced Whitechurch to his knees. They held his arms and pulled his head back to look the faerie queen in the eye.
“You treacherous creature,” Whitechurch spit. He struggled against the guards. “Why?”
“Because you are too greedy, Imperator.” Her girlish tittering died. “You never thank me for the bodies of my lovely subjects lost fighting your stupid wars. R’hlem understands. He knows the Fae are not his enemies. So the bloody king has offered a marvelous bargain,” Mab cooed, flicking her fingers at Whitechurch’s eye. He jerked in pain. “He burns your kingdom and gives my people the north again.” She sighed. “And we receive ten thousand Englishmen as slaves. Isn’t it glorious?”
I began to set fire to the vines. One of the knights took a blade of bone and held it to Blackwood’s throat. Mab lifted an eyebrow.
“Would you care to use your power now?” she asked me sweetly. Blackwood winced as the knife cut him.
My fire disappeared at once.
“Howel, do what you must,” Blackwood snapped. Mab patted his cheek.
“Isn’t your sister on the road to your estate, my little lordling? Would you care to test me?”
“You demon.” Magnus pulled against his bonds.
Mab huffed and turned back to Whitechurch. She leaned closer, a malevolent light in her eyes. “You know, there’s a toll to be paid for using my roads.”
Whitechurch didn’t flinch as Mab trotted over to one of her soldiers and drew a long, savage-looking bone sword from his scabbard. She grinned, licking her teeth. “I think your head will be payment enough,” she said, pointing to Whitechurch with the tip. Then, to me, “Frankly, I’d take yours, but he wants you without a hair out of place. Can’t imagine why.”
The perfect image of William Howel I had carried in my heart was gone forever. Of all the reasons to hate R’hlem, that might have been the greatest.
“And you.” She sniffed at Blackwood, Dee, and Magnus. “Well, I’ll make up my mind later.”
“Sorcerers.” Whitechurch looked at us. He no longer struggled against his captors. There was no fear in him. He refused to give her that. “Her Majesty commended you.”
While the boys screamed, I could only stay silent in horror as Mab sliced off Whitechurch’s head in one clean sweep.
“I think he’ll look quite nice on a mantel,” Mab said conversationally, shaking Whitechurch’s head by his hair. Drops of blood rained onto the earthen floor. “Though I’m not sure what a mantel is. Hmmph.” Mab chucked the head across the ground, then gestured to her soldiers. “Take their weapons.”
They took our swords and daggers, snatched the whip and the flute off the boys. They ripped the bone whistle from my neck and grabbed my dagger as well, piling them into a corner along with our staves. I wanted to cry out for Porridge, as I felt strangely sure my stave was crying out for me.
I stared at Whitechurch’s crumpled form. I wouldn’t allow myself to shrink away from the image. I memorized the slumped angle of his body, the blood-speckled collar of his shirt.
Her Majesty commended you. What had the queen said the night I became a sorcerer? I grant my commendation, that you will take up arms in my defense, that you will live and die for my country and my person, and that your magic shall find its greatest purpose in the service of others. Whitechurch had ordered us to remember.
Feeling surged through me. We were not going to die in this place.
Mab went to Blackwood. “Lord of Sorrow-Fell.” She said it with mockery. “I don’t care if it’s my sister’s property. Humans settling Faerie lands? Disgusting.” She spit in his face. Blackwood didn’t move a muscle.
“I doubt Your Majesty has read much of Dante. According to him, the lowest level of hell is reserved for traitors,” he murmured.
Mab snorted with laughter, then frowned at Dee. “Who are you? Oh, wait.” She slapped his face. “I don’t care.”
Finally, she moved to Magnus, whose eyes glinted with challenge. Mab purred, sliding her hands through his hair.
“Mmm, such a handsome young man. The epitome of beauty.” She pressed herself against him. With the vines holding his body, Magnus was helpless. “I was going to kill all three of you boys, but I think I’ll keep you as my pet. You really will look so nice chained to my wall. You’ll be such fun to play with.” She traced the tip of one finger along Magnus’s jaw. “As long as your youth and beauty last, of course. Then you’ll be scrumptious food for my little goblins.” Leaning forward, she licked his cheek. “What do you say to that?”
“Madame.” Magnus gave a breathtaking smile and instructed her to do something with herself that was physically impossible. The faerie went rigid. “Would you take that as an answer?”
“Maybe I’ll feed you to my goblins now,” she growled.
“Good, because I’m rather bored by the company.”
My mind raced. If I freed my
self, I’d be too late to keep Mab from killing the boys. How the devil was I to manage this?
Something fluttered into my lap. It was a handkerchief, with HH embroidered at the corner in dark blue thread. It looked exactly like my old handkerchief.
Because it was mine. I peered up at the soldier standing watch over me, a short creature with a wooden helmet and a visor of bone. Impossible to see who it was.
The vines at my wrists gave, and the one about my waist went slack. The soldier was cutting me free with…yes, an iron ax. No one noticed. All eyes were upon Magnus and the queen.
Maria’s voice whispered in my ear, “When I signal, fire.”
No music had ever sounded as sweet as her voice in that moment.
Across the room, Fenswick put one clawed finger to his lips: silence.
“Let’s begin by cutting something off,” Mab mused, laying the edge of her sword on Magnus’s arm. “You won’t need your hands. Will you?”
The last vines fell. I would have only one chance at this. Leering, Mab raised her sword.
Maria threw her ax, splitting open the head of the soldier who held the knife on Blackwood. Mab squealed, and while she was distracted, I stood.
Throwing out my hands, I unleashed my powers.
Flame billowed from my fingers, consuming the pale queen in one violent burst. She dropped her weapon with a scream and crumpled to the ground. I didn’t stop, even when her shrieks died and her body shriveled. I kept my flame on her, the smell of charring flesh and burnt hair making my eyes water. She wanted to put Whitechurch’s head on a mantel? I wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left but a greasy smear.
Maria wrenched her ax from the dead guard and attacked the Goodfellow and his soldiers. Fenswick, meanwhile, proceeded to cut the boys from the vines. They grabbed their staves from where Mab had put them by the side of the room, and joined the fight. Soon all the faerie knights formed a crude pile on the ground, and the queen was left in a smoldering heap. We retrieved the weapons as quickly as we could, strapping on swords and daggers with shaking hands.
“Wait,” Magnus growled as he marched toward Mab. “I’ve appendages to remove.”
“There’s no time!” Fenswick touched the earthen wall, and the wooden doorway reformed. “You need to return to London—now!”
Maria pulled off her helmet, tossing it to the side as she shook out her hair.
“Did you know about this?” Blackwood demanded.
“She’s innocent.” Fenswick moved before her protectively. “I thought they’d let her pass safely, but they took her prisoner.”
“The doctor only just got me out,” she said to me, “else I’d have gone back to warn you.”
“You can’t expect us to believe that,” Blackwood said.
“Well, seeing as we narrowly escaped having our limbs chopped off, I’m willing to go on some faith.” Magnus strapped his sword about his waist, and we followed Fenswick back onto the smoky darkness of the road. Ahead was an empty path choked with black brush. The other squadrons had vanished from sight.
Blackwood hoisted Fenswick into the air and shook him. “How could you?” he shouted. Fenswick’s legs kicked uselessly.
“I’d no choice. R’hlem wanted another Shadow and Fog, to seal the bargain between our races.”
My heart twisted. No matter the cost, I’d take all the rest of his beloved pets from him.
Focus. We’ve no time for this now.
I made Blackwood stop shaking the hobgoblin, then yanked on his ear while he squealed. Was I being rough? Undoubtedly. “Where are the squadrons?”
“Gone.” Fenswick swallowed. “They’re being butchered as we speak.”
I could hear the faint cries already fading on the wind. Leaving the others, I ran down the path while Fenswick shouted at me to come back. Branches tore at my clothes, slowed my speed. Eventually, I had to stop altogether.
“I can’t see them,” Blackwood whispered, coming up behind me. It was difficult to see anything at all. Above, the stars had gone out, the slate of constellations wiped clean.
“They’ve been trapped in the shadowed realm. No one who goes can ever return.” Fenswick twitched his ears. “You must get to London.”
“Why must we do anything you say?” I wanted to kill him.
“The roads are now open for R’hlem’s army,” he said. That shut all of us up. “They’ll be able to march past the barrier. With half the forces gone and no Fae intervention, it’ll be an open season.”
“My God,” Dee breathed.
“If R’hlem starts now, he’ll be there in only a few hours. You must evacuate the city before it’s too late.”
The queen was in residence at Buckingham Palace. R’hlem could end this war today.
“Let’s go,” Blackwood said, guiding us back down the path. Somewhere in the blackness, I swore I could still hear the voices of sorcerers crying for help. I imagined the men drowning in eternal blackness. Every step I took was a necessary torture.
“Hurry,” Fenswick whispered as we tripped and smashed into each other. I didn’t dare use my fire, as it would be a beacon for any monster that wanted to hunt us. My palms prickled, though, my impulse to ignite a burning whisper in my skin. No matter how many breathing exercises I performed, the rage did not die.
As we walked, I swore I heard something moving about on the path behind us. But tendrils of mist and the wet smell of moss were all that confronted me when I looked. Still, some invisible thing scraped closer.
“Fast. Fast now,” Magnus said, leading the charge. Dee hoisted up Maria when she tripped, and Blackwood summoned a minor gale to keep the thing back. We rocketed through the bramble, my skirt catching on a branch and ripping. If we survived this, I would get a pair of bloody trousers.
Finally, we entered a clearing. Two winding paths diverged ahead of us, and Fenswick cursed. “I always get lost around here. One leads to London.”
Darkness moved on the path behind. Something breathed.
A creature charged out of the wood. Maria swung her ax, sending the thing skidding backward. The beast had a hound’s rudimentary form but bristled all over with mushrooms and branches. Its clawed feet raked the earth, and the stench of it—boggy and rancid at once—made my eyes water. Snapping back its head in a howl, it revealed a mouth jagged with thorn-teeth.
Cursing, Magnus led us in a group spell that drained the horrid thing of its water. A puddle formed before us as the beast cracked open like drying mud. But then it began to twitch, reforming and reshaping as water filled it once again. We couldn’t hold it forever.
“Keep going!” Fenswick leaped out of Magnus’s arms, gripping the monster by its face. His small talons dug in as the hound shook its head, Fenswick clinging for his very life.
Blackwood pulled me down the right-hand tunnel. Please, let it lead us home. Let it be correct. Behind us, the sounds of pursuit and struggle died, and soon there was only our harried breathing in the darkness. I used Porridge as a torch and held it aloft.
Some murky light formed ahead, marking the tunnel’s end. We stopped, boots sinking into the mud.
“What if it’s the wrong way?” Magnus cursed as howling echoed behind us. Fenswick hadn’t been able to hold the beast off.
No time to second-guess. I charged ahead.
We catapulted into sunlight. The air was clear, the sky above a bit hazy and overcast. But we were outside, in the natural world once more. I could have fallen to my knees and kissed the ground.
We stood upon a grassy slope, a dense forest at our backs. That was the first troubling sign. Gray and white gulls wheeled overhead, while nearby waves crashed on a beach. Salt laced the wind.
This wasn’t London.
A signpost on the road ahead pointed in two opposite directions. The first advertised DOVER, 5 MILES. The second, pointing north, read LONDON, 70 MILES.
“We’re in Kent,” Blackwood said, his voice lifeless. Magnus threw down his stave and screamed, while Dee sat heavil
y. We couldn’t go back into Faerie; the risk of the roads was too great.
We wouldn’t reach London in time.
Blackwood adjusted the water glass, showing a new location as we all watched in shock. We’d used it to peer ahead down the road and found swarms of Familiars—ravens, skinless, shadows, lice, trolls—roaming the area. They flooded abandoned villages and gnawed like animals on bones picked clean. Kent had been one of the “red zones” in the war ever since R’hlem had taken Canterbury three years earlier. Like an infection, his influence had spread. “Going over ground won’t be easy.” Blackwood released the glass, and the water rained down.
If only I knew how to use the magician porter runes. I should have begged Mickelmas to teach me when I had the chance.
“Well, there might be a boat.” Magnus dusted his trousers. He’d swallowed his earlier rage and was all business again.
“This area’s deserted, but best of luck,” Blackwood muttered.
Maria followed Magnus and Dee down the path toward the beach while I pulled up fistfuls of grass and tried to think of anything useful. I was no sorcerer Master; I knew only the most rudimentary magician spells. All I really had was my fire ability, and that wouldn’t help us.
“This is my fault.” Blackwood put his head in his hands, his raven hair a tangled mess. “I didn’t see through Mab’s lies. I’ve lost the war,” he groaned.
But he hadn’t been the one to decipher R’hlem’s whereabouts and send everyone down the blasted Faerie roads. Nor had he been the one to suggest using the weapons, which had started this all in the first place. No, that had been my own brand of selfish pride. I must always be the one with the answer.
“Magnus found a boat!” Maria called, running up the hill and rousing us from our self-pity.
We followed her to the beach, passing the shattered remains of a town. The stone houses had been ripped down to their foundations; sun-bleached carts and wagons were swallowed by overgrown grass. The hill sloped down to the beach, the earth giving way to white sand and sea grass. We’d come to a small cove, and anchored fifty feet off shore was a fishing vessel. Magnus waved aboard the deck, Dee beside him.
A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire, Book Two) Page 26
