The Road to Bedlam

by Mike Shevdon

  It was one of the questions they hadn't yet addressed. This house was filled with iron. It was in the walls, nailed into the beams and built into the fabric. It was the safest place Blackbird could think of, given who was coming after her, but she wasn't comfortable here either. It wasn't her magic that was reacting – she knew it was dormant and would not return until the baby was born – but even so the house felt unwelcoming to her, as if it hummed a sour note. It made the ache in her back worse, the skin on her elbows itch. She wasn't sure if she could rest here.

  She realised that she'd missed a question from Meg, but it didn't matter as she continued her monologue without need of confirmation.

  "Running about in that condition, what's that man of yours thinking?" said Meg.

  "It's not his fault." Blackbird defended Niall. "He's been sent away on business."

  "A fine business that means leaving a pregnant woman to look after herself. Must be due any day, surely?"

  "It certainly feels like it," she agreed.

  Meg must have caught the fleeting expression of trepidation in her eyes because she reached across and patted her hand.

  "It's always scary the first time. It'll be over before you know and you'll have the babe in your arms. A boy, you say? Did that show up on the scan?"

  "Not exactly," said Blackbird.

  She could see the questions forming on Meg's face – when was the scan? What had it shown, who was her doctor? All questions she couldn't answer.

  Slam! The kitchen door rattled in its frame at some heavy impact.

  The room went deathly quiet. Everyone stared at the door.

  "What the hell…?" Ben and Jeff were on their feet.

  "What was that?" said Lisa, sounding suddenly small and nervous.

  "Jeff?" said Meg.

  "Dunno," said Jeff. "The dogs are out, aren't they? They'd bark if someone came." He went to the door.

  "Don't open it," said Meg.

  "I agree with her," said Blackbird.

  Jeff hooked an iron chain across the back of the door before cracking the door open. "Oh shit!"

  He closed the door, slipped off the chain, then opened the door again. A body sprawled across the threshold, fur the colour of burnt toffee, eyes dark and open wide, neck at an odd angle.

  "Oh shit! It's Topaz. Look what they've done to him!"

  He picked the dog up, cradling it in his arms. "Look, Meg."

  Lisa ran to her father, tears streaming down her face. Jeff kicked the door closed behind him and laid the dog on the kitchen table. A pink tongue lolled out between its teeth.

  Lisa stroked the dog's ear back from over his eyes. "What happened to him, Dad? Who would do that?"

  "It's Deefnir. He's here," said Blackbird. "Ben, get me the knife."

  Meg interrupted, "Where's the other one? Where's Tasha?"

  "Don't worry about the bloody dog," said Blackbird. "Get me the Quick Knife."

  "What do you want with it?" asked Ben. "It won't save the dogs now."

  Blackbird stood up. "It's a message, the oldest kind. He wants me, and he'll go through all of you to get me."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "I'm fed up with running. I'm done with hiding. If he wants me, he can come and get me. Get me the Quick Knife, Ben. I'm going to finish this."

  "You can't fight anyone in your condition. You're crazy," said Ben.

  "I can with the Quick Knife. It will give me the edge I need, in both senses. Bring it to me."

  "You can't fight anyone in that condition," said Meg.

  "You don't understand," said Blackbird, quietly. "This is only the beginning. It's the way it's been done since before there were towns or cities, before kings or queens. First the dogs, the guardians of the settlement. Then the old people, the experience, the knowledge. Next the children, the hope for the future, any chance of reprieve. Finally the adults, until there's only one left to carry the story. He'll make them run until they can't run any further, until their hearts burst and their bones are broken, until there's just enough life left to tell the tale. He'll kill all of you, every one, and he'll still come for me. Now get me the damned knife!"

  "Call the police," said Meg. "Never mind, I'll do it." She reached for the phone.

  The air chilled suddenly and the lights went out. In the sudden silence, the fridge stuttered to a halt. Over the doorways, the mistletoe hung there glowed green, flickering with pale fire.

  "Oh shit," said James, "there goes the power."

  In the dim light Ben went to the dresser and opened the drawer. He took out a hardwood box and laid it on the table next to the dog.

  "I'll do it," said Jeff, reaching for the box.

  "No," said Blackbird. "It's me he wants. If you challenge him, he will kill you first and still come after me. Give me the knife."

  Ben opened the box. Blackbird's expression soured.

  "Are you going to be able to do this?" asked Ben, holding the knife by the blade, offering the handle to Blackbird.

  She reached out her hand, the distaste written plain on her face. The moment she touched it she gasped, dropping the knife with a clatter on to the tiles and crumpling over.

  Meg was at her side, "Just breathe. Give it a second. In and out, that's it, one at a time."

  "It's too much, even now," said Blackbird, shaking her head. "Get me a cloth. I'll hold it in a cloth."

  "Put it away, Ben," said Meg. "Can't you see, it's upsetting the baby. Put it away, now!"

  Ben recovered the knife and slotted it back into the box, closing the lid with a dull thud. Blackbird relaxed visibly.

  "I need it," she said. "I need the knife. I have to finish this."

  "You can't touch it, don't you see?" said Meg. "Even having it near is upsetting the babe. You'll do more harm than good with that and no mistake. It's not meant for your kind."

  "Get me something else, something iron." whispered Blackbird. She sat on a chair, breathing slowly, bringing herself back under control.

  Lisa ran upstairs.

  "Where are you going? Come back down here right now!" said Meg.

  By the time Meg had reached the bottom of the stairs, Lisa was on the way down again. She came back into the kitchen holding a long-bladed knife in her hand, its blade dark but for the bright metal at the edge, the wooden handle burnished to a dull gloss.

  "I made it myself," she said, passing it carefully to Blackbird. "It's too soft to keep an edge properly, but it was the first one I made, wasn't it, Grampy?"

  Blackbird tested the weight of it. The iron in it still made her bones ache, but it would do.

  Lisa went back to her grandfather and eased in under his arm. Ben ruffled her hair. "The metal's a bit soft. It's hand-beaten, closer to wrought iron than steel, so it should serve your purpose well."

  Lisa raised her chin. "Use it for Topaz." She stared at the body of the dog on the table, eyes dry.

  Blackbird stood, easing the cramps from her back. She lifted her bag and took the horseshoe from it. "Might as well go for broke," she said.

  She went to the kitchen door. "Once I'm outside, bolt and bar the door and don't let anyone in, not even if you think it's me." She paused and then said, "It won't be."

  She looked around the room as if memorising the faces, then opened the door, stepped out into the darkness and closed the door behind her. Standing in the dark, she waited until she heard the bolts shoot home while her eyes adjusted. The sky had been clear black and starlit, a good night for a fight. Now a mist had risen, clinging to the ground, swirling around her ankles, rolling away as she moved into the open yard. She stood in the middle where she could see all around her.

  "You're going to have to come and get me," she called out to the dark. "I'm not playing hide and seek."

  The words sounded muted and close, making her seem small and frightened. She uncurled and curled her fingers on the handle of the iron knife.

  Over the building to her left, something large sailed out of the night. It bounced once a
nd landed in a floppy bundle near her feet. It was the other dog, what was left of it.

  "It's not my dog and I don't care," she called, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue.

  The dog had come from the left. She watched the right carefully.

  The minutes stretched out. She waited, feeling the sweat condensing cold and running down her spine. For a moment there was a shadow where there was no moonlight to cast one and then there he was, walking out of the mist into the yard, clothed in black silk, a long blade hanging easily from his right hand. His hair fell over his eyes in a way that was almost feminine. Dark eyes glinted from beneath his fringe. He stopped,

  some way away.

  "You're going to have to get closer than that," she said, shaking her head.

  She blinked and he was yards closer. She hadn't even seen him move. The damned mist hadn't even stirred.

  "Closer than that," she said. "I have something for you." She tightened her grip on the horseshoe, setting her feet apart. The sword would give him reach. She wanted him in close where she could use the knife.

  "Come to mommy," she said, bracing herself.

  "I can taste your scent," he said. His voice was high and light. It added to the impression of delicacy.

  "Good for you," she said. "But you can't smell me to death. Come closer."

  He sighed, softly. "Not you," he said. "Them."

  On either side of her two shapes coalesced out of the mist.

  Amber held a long straight sword casually, allowing it to swing gently from her hand as she walked forward. Slimgrin stepped forward, circling the long double-ended spear around until it pointed directly at Deefnir's feet.

  "You waited for your moment," said Blackbird.

  "We wanted him to show himself," said Amber. "Time to go home, Deefnir. Your master is calling."

  "And the others," said Deefnir. "Show yourselves."

  From behind him, Tate and Garvin moved out of the shadows.

  "We're not going to have any trouble, are we?" rumbled Tate.

  Garvin spoke. "I think our visitor knows when he is outnumbered."

  There was a strange mewing sound from Deefnir, prompting Amber to lift the tip of her blade. It resolved into tinkling laughter.

  "There, you see? It wasn't that hard in the end." His amusement was at odds with the tension.

  "We are arresting you in the name of the High Court of the Feyre," called Garvin. "You are charged by your Lord to return to the High Court peacefully and await his pleasure."

  "Not before I complete my mission."

  He blurred into motion. Blackbird flinched as she found him kneeling before her. Amber's blade was across his throat, the end of Slimgrin's spear pressing under his ear.

  "For the runaround you've given me, I'd cheerfully kill you," said Amber. "Go ahead, give me an excuse."

  Deefnir ignored the threats and reached towards Blackbird slowly and gently with his empty left hand. Blood ran down his throat where the pressure of Amber's blade increased.

  "It is good fortune," remarked Deefnir, "to touch the place where the child rests; good both for the mother and for the one who touches."

  "It won't be good luck for you," said Amber quietly. "I'll send you back to Altair in two pieces. Hear my words."

  "I am charged by my Lord Altair," said Deefnir, "to bring to you, Blackbird, the felicitations of the Seventh Court."

  "What?" said Blackbird.

  "My Lord Altair sends his greetings. He would present them himself but he is otherwise engaged, so in his stead he sends me, his grandson, to carry his good wishes and congratulations to you for the coming of your child."

  "One more move and you die, Deefnir," said Amber. "Stop playing games."

  "I swear on my honour that I will not harm anyone here gathered, most particularly the half-breed Blackbird and her unborn child. Even if I wished to, I could not. It is foretold."

  "What's this about, Deefnir?" Garvin stepped in, turning aside the blades, placing himself between Deefnir and Blackbird.

  Deefnir remained kneeling. "The son will rise and they shall fall," he intoned.

  "What? What is he talking about?" demanded Blackbird.

  Garvin raised one eyebrow. "I'm not following this any more than you are."

  "What are you saying?" Blackbird moved around Garvin, tightening her grip on the knife. Slimgrin stepped in close to her, his hand wrapping gently around her wrist where she held the iron knife, preventing her from using it.

  Garvin glanced at the hand with the iron knife. He nodded to Slimgrin. "We don't want any accidents, do we?"

  "He's talking about my baby, Garvin. I want to know what he means!" said Blackbird.

  "Deefnir?" said Garvin. "You want to explain why we're running around the country so you can bring Blackbird a greeting?"

  Deefnir smiled. "What hour is it?"

  Garvin's expression darkened, "It's after midnight, why?"

  Deefnir stood, slowly and cautiously, leaving the sword lying on the ground beside him. He opened his hands, showing he was unarmed.

  "My tasks are complete. I have brought the felicitations of the Seventh Court to the mother and to the son, and brought the Warders to me. Four Warders here, Fellstamp and Fionh with Lord Altair and the High Court. That makes six."

  "We are seven," said Garvin.

  "Not for long."

  "What do you mean?" asked Blackbird. "Where's Niall?"

  "He's in Ravensby, in Yorkshire," said Garvin.

  "Not any more," said Deefnir. "It is the solstice day. Your last Warder is far from there and beyond all aid."

  TWENTY-THREE

  Blackbird tried to wrench her wrist away from Slimgrin without success. "What have you done with him? What?"

  "Calm yourself," said Deefnir quietly, "for he has chosen, and there is nowhere he would rather be. He is fulfilling his destiny."

  Garvin turned to Amber and Tate. "Find Niall. Go."

  They vanished into the mist.

  "You have some explaining to do," said Garvin to Deefnir.

  "My Lord Altair awaits your pleasure," said Deefnir with a smile.

  "You can let go of me now." Blackbird tried to twist out of Slimgrin's long fingers.

  "You'd better go tell the Highsmiths that you're alive," said Garvin. "We will accompany Deefnir back to the High Court."

  "Where's Niall?" said Blackbird to Deefnir. "Where is he?"

  "All in good time," said Deefnir.

  "Don't worry," said Garvin. "We'll find him."

  "You'd better," said Blackbird. "You'd bloody well better."

  "If this is one of your games, Raffmir…"

  "I swear by my life, the hour is upon us. Hear the truth in my voice. Your daughter is in gravest peril and will die without aid. I have made preparations, but what must be done cannot be done alone. If you would have your daughter back, it must be now, before midnight."

  I stood and looked at him. I was dead tired, bruised from the jump to the boat, desperate for a change of clothes and a hot shower. Even so, the truth rang in his words. I sifted through them, searching for the double meaning, the lie within the truth that would give his plan away. I could find none.

  He offered the sword again and I took it.

  "Where is she?"

  He squeezed my shoulder. I stared at his arm until he removed it.

  "I will take you to her. Come, we must use the Ways."

  He strode away towards the town, confident that I would follow. I trailed after, unwilling to catch up with him, but drawn along all the same. When he reached the road leading up the hill past the church he waited for me and then walked alongside. We passed the church, where the lights blazed inside through the great east window.

  "Give me a moment," I said. "I need to deliver some news."

  He grasped my arm and hauled me up the hill. "We do not have a moment, Dogstar. If you can travel faster then do so. Our time is slipping away and we have much to achieve before the night turns into tomorrow. We must go n
ow."

  I allowed him to draw me on, wondering why, after all these weeks, it was so critical now. The pace meant I felt every ache as we mounted the hill behind the town. We reached the Way-node and he barely hesitated before stepping on to it.

  "Follow swiftly."

  He vanished in a swirl of air and I stepped after him.