"Is he linked?" Adrian whispered to Coulter.
Coulter frowned, then shook his head. "Not anywhere," he said with a bit of surprise as if that were unusual.
The little man poked his head out of the hole. "If you're going to come," he said no longer sounding quite as friendly, "come now."
Adrian shot another glance at the tree. Crossing those roots in the dark, with Coulter so afraid of the air around him, was probably not a good idea. They couldn't backtrack, so they would have to try these woods anyway. Better to have someone lead them through. It was still two against one. If the Cap looked as if he were taking them to Shadowlands, they would run for it.
"Well?" the Cap asked.
"We're coming," Adrian said. The Cap still sounded close, a bit too close for Adrian's comfort. He wanted the opportunity to warn Coulter not to discuss his own magic. Magic was a touchy subject with the Caps. They had none of their own --the only Fey with no magic and no possibility for it. The Fey said it was in the Cap's size. If they were small, they were magickless. All the Caps Adrian had seen bore this out.
"Do we have to go in there?" Coulter asked.
Adrian nodded. "I'll be right behind you," he said. He wanted to promise the boy they'd be safe, but he couldn't.
He had no idea if the Red Cap would hurt them or help them.
But he would find out.
FORTY-NINE
Matthias dreamed he was on the Cardidas River, on the barge the Fey and Islanders had built together for Nicholas's wedding. The spray was up, the air chill, and the sun a faint haze through high clouds. The water was choppy. The wind buffeted the barge, hitting the sides of his face like a slap. He wore his long ceremonial robes, and he stood off to the side, watching Jewel in her inappropriate green, her long black hair flowing down her back.
Rugar talked with her, pleaded with her, but it didn't matter. She insisted on marrying the Islander. Fool that she was. Wasting the Fey blood and Fey heritage on such an inferior being.
Matthias squinted. His face felt heavy and a great weight pressed on his chest. The air seemed thicker than usual. Each breath was an effort.
The Shaman stood in the corner, silent, as if she approved of this match. He didn't know how she could. She knew, like the rest of them, that this was a pollution of the Black King's line.
An odd feeling of dread rose in his stomach. He didn't care about the Black King's line. Such a thought felt like blasphemy, even though he wasn't sure he believed in blasphemy. He grabbed for his filigree sword and didn't find it around his neck.
But he was supposed to perform the ceremony. How could he do that without wearing his robe? He patted his pockets. He was wearing breeches.
Jewel came over to him, spoke softly to him. She had her mother's voice, soft and yet powerful. No wonder Rugar had married her. She had died in childbirth too, just like Jewel. Jewel's brothers had had a different mother, one not nearly the equal of Jewel.
Matthias smiled at her, wishing she would linger longer, but she did not. She was his favorite of the Fey. She was —
— evil. He had to remember that. She had ordered Alexander's death.
He tried to roll over, but couldn't. This dream was haunting him. It was clinging to him, forcing him to think about things he didn't want to consider.
Nicholas looked like a pale, sickly creature as he stood at the railing. His hair streamed behind him, pale like the rest of him. How Jewel could mate such a one was beyond Matthias. The Fey mingled blood with their enemies, but usually after the land was conquered, not before, and never in a diplomatic way.
Rugar knew that, and still he was letting this go forward. He spoke briefly to the Shaman and she turned her back on him. Odd that. The Shaman should always listen to the Leader.
Jewel was smiling. She actually looked as if she wanted to marry this man.
The breeze off the river was cold, yet his face was hot. He almost felt as if he were suffocating. The pressure on his chest had grown. It hurt. He brushed at it, startled again by the missing sword.
Jewel had asked that no one bring Rocaanist trappings on the barge. The Islanders and Fey had built the barge together so that no one would trick the other.
It had worked. No one had tricked the other. They were stuck on the river where if one side started a slaughter, the other side would retaliate. Jewel had thought of that too.
She had been brilliant.
A shame she had to die.
A pox on the man who killed her.
…!
He choked, tried to wake, but couldn't. He had been right in killing her. He tried to rub his eyes, but something was in his way. The weight on his chest was crushing. He heard voices, speaking in Fey. They sounded close. Wood snapped and fell in the fire at the foot of his bed. He wanted to wake up. He had to wake up.
This nightmare was killing him.
Jewel took his hand. "You ruined any chances for your people," she said. "We'll have to kill you all now."
He wanted to remind her about holy water. No matter what kind of threats her people made, they were still vulnerable to holy water. But he couldn't say that. His mouth felt like someone else's.
"The Islanders deserve to die," he said, and shuddered.
No.
He pushed against the weight on his chest. The pain grew.
The Islanders deserve to die.
The Islanders
Deserve
Deserve?
No.
The words were Fey. He was thinking in Fey. He couldn't be, though. He didn't know the language.
The weight on his chest …
He couldn't open his eyes …
The dream …
The dream …
The Fey will kill you. The question is when.
By this time tomorrow you will probably be dead.
I've warned you.
… warned …
… you …
Matthias tried to speak but something was blocking his mouth. Nicholas. Nicholas, make them stop. Nicholas.
The dream was just a dream. Just a dream. He had awakened himself from bad dreams before. All he had to do was open his eyes.
Open.
The weight on his chest.
Darkness over his eyes.
He reached up, feeling awake, and touched a leg that was not his own. He screamed, but the sound was muffled.
Jewel was frowning at him.
You're dead, he tried to say, but couldn't. She seemed to hear him. She shrugged.
I'll never die as long as my children live.
Your son is not alive, Matthias thought at her. He has no brain.
You watch out for my son, she said with a smile. He will destroy you.
Matthias had forgotten something. The weight on his chest. Was he dying? It felt as if he were dreaming, not dying.
Dreaming.
He had dreamed of a green glow the night before.
And the glow had nearly killed him.
Wake up! Wake up! he thought, but he couldn't.
He couldn't.
Which meant he was awake.
His mouth was dry. Fingers dug into his mind, little sharp points of contact. A face floated in his brain, a Fey face he had never seen before.
A Fey face.
A leg where his ribs should be.
Weight on his chest.
He slid his hand along the blanket, slowly, slowly, so the movement felt like part of the dream. Jewel was standing beside the other Fey, staring at him.
You can't wake up, she said. I'll never let you wake up.
If I don't wake up, how can I fight your son? Matthias asked.
She frowned at that, as if something about it puzzled her.
His fingers brushed the bedside table. Almost there.
My son is strong, she said.
Your son has no mind, Matthias said.
My son shares his mind, she said. My father hid him from me.
Matthias's fingers touched cool glass. The round
ed edges of the vial felt reassuring against his skin.
His heart was pounding hard. He couldn't reach over and uncap the vial. He couldn't pull the cork. He would have to —
(smash it)
He tightened his grip around the vial. He would only get one chance at this.
Your father? he asked Jewel, hoping to distract her, or whatever had created her. Your father is meddling in everything.
Then he swung his arm as hard as he could toward his chest. His hand collided with the leg and he cried out as glass smashed in his palm. A thousand shards cut him, and his blood mingled with the holy water.
A scream that was not his own filled the room. The weight flew off his chest and the pressure slipped out of his brain. Jewel disappeared. Suddenly the darkness was no longer complete. He took a real breath. The air smelled of burning flesh.
"Help!" he shouted as loud as he could.
Something thrashed on the bed beside him. The light from the fireplace revealed a Fey form melting from the leg up, the Fey screaming.
Other Fey had rushed into the room. Matthias recognized a face. Burden. The one who tried the Settlement. Matthias grabbed more vials of holy water from the beside table, uncorked them and threw them at the Fey.
The bottles shattered as they hit the floor. The Fey woman nearest him yelled and tried to run out the door. The water must have splashed on her, though, because her legs collapsed beneath her. The man beside her fell as well, and the stench of burning grew in the room. Matthias stood on the bed and kicked off the squirming flesh beside him. His hand hurt and his fingers didn't close well. He had damaged it when he smashed the vial.
He uncorked another vial and threw it, then another, and another. The Fey were running for the doors. Matthias got off the bed and ran after them throwing water at them. Three more fell and began melting into pools of flesh.
Burden reached the door of the suite, pulled it open and dashed into the hall. A Fey slipped and Matthias poured water on her. Some of the water splashed on a nearby Fey and he screamed.
Then a flash of light hit Matthias in the face. He brought up a hand to protect his eyes as a spark flew away from him. The air was red and green for a moment. He flailed water all around him in case they tried to attack again, but there was nothing except the screams of the dying around him.
As his sight came back, he saw another Fey halfway out the door, his legs fusing together. For a moment, Matthias thought that was Burden, but it wasn't. This Fey was too old.
"Help me," he said in accented Islander.
Matthias stood over him for a moment, then shook his head. "You came to kill me. I have no reason to help you."
"You're a holy man," the Fey said. He had to be in great pain, but he wasn't screaming.
Matthias nodded. "I am a holy man," he said, "and my mission is to rid Blue Isle of the likes of you."
FIFTY
Stowe took the stairs two at a time. A bloodcurdling scream echoed from the upper floor. Then he heard a huge crash and a cry for help. The sound of breaking glass and large falling objects filled the area.
Stowe reached the first landing, looking over his shoulder and shouted, "We need more men!"
Two guards were halfway up the stairs. One of the men relayed the order down. The Aud ran toward a sideroom. Another Aud stood at the top of the stairs frozen in terror. He had a bottle of holy water in his hands.
The screaming started again. Several voices raised in unison, long chilling cries that blended and clashed. Stowe reached the top of the stairs. He plucked the vial of holy water out of the Aud's hand, and the boy nearly collapsed with fright.
"Get help, son," Stowe said. He pulled his sword and advanced, sword in one hand, holy water in the other.
The hall was long and wide, filled with lit lamps. As Stowe ran into the corridor, a door at the end opened and a Fey ran out. He wasn't screaming. He didn't need to. The fear was etched on his features. Another Fey followed him out, then shouted and toppled forward.
The first Fey saw Stowe and tried to turn around.
"Don't move," Stowe said "Or I will kill you where you stand."
The Fey half turned and froze in a position where he could see both Stowe and the door. "Let me go," he said. "There's a madman following me."
"You're the madman," Stowe said. "Don't you know it's death for you to be in this building?"
The Fey in the doorway was begging for help. Matthias's voice was soft in answer.
"He'll kill me," the Fey said.
He probably would too. Stowe put the holy water vial in his pocket. "Well, I won't," he said. "But I will have to hold you prisoner. Come here."
The Fey glanced at Stowe's pocket, then came close enough for Stowe to grab him and hold him with one arm around his neck. "One move," Stowe whispered, "and I'll coat you with holy water myself."
"Fine," the Fey said.
The Fey in the doorway gasped as the melting rose up his chest to his neck. He turned his head as if to beg Stowe for help when his face flattened out. He thrashed. The air smelled of burning flesh. Stowe turned his head away.
The Fey he was holding watched, his body rigid. More guards came up the stairs and surrounded Stowe. "Take him," Stowe said, shoving the Fey at some of the guards. "Be careful. We're taking him prisoner."
Matthias came through the door. He stepped over the thrashing body, and stopped when he saw the guards.
He was a mess. His robe was sopping wet, his hair tousled, and his right hand was bleeding. In his left he held an open vial of holy water.
"Thanks for catching him for me, Lord Stowe," Matthias said. "Since he led them all, he can be the last to die."
Something in Matthias's voice sent chills through Stowe. "He's not going to die," Stowe said. "We'll take him to King Nicholas."
"The good King will set him free."
"The King will treat him like any other murderer," Stowe said, letting the words hang in the air.
The Fey said nothing. Even though he was being held, he had wormed his way behind the guards so that no water could touch him. "If he deals with me the way he has dealt with that murderer," the Fey said, "then I will live."
At that moment, Stowe recognized him as Burden, the one who started the Settlement. Even Fey who had been rational and supportive of the truce between Fey and Islander had gone crazy over Jewel's death.
"It's not murder when the thing you're killing isn't human," Matthias said.
"Is that how you justify it?" Burden asked.
"I'm not justifying anything," Matthias said.
"You have to be," Burden said, "because you're just like us."
Auds, Danites, and Elders were arriving from all over the Tabernacle. Most crowded behind Matthias. A few put their hands over their noses to block the stench that was coming from the Rocaan's apartment.
Matthias took a step toward Burden, his hand clenched so tightly around the vial of holy water that his knuckles were white. "You and I are nothing alike."
"We are exactly alike," Burden said, keeping the guards between him and Matthias. "We didn't find out about our magical abilities until we were adults."
"Magic?" Matthias laughed. "I have no magic."
Stowe didn't like how this conversation was going. "I think we should get him downstairs."
The guards put their hands on Burden's arms. The guard in front of him moved. Stowe signaled that the guard should continue to block Burden. Burden peered over his shoulder. "You have magic," he said. "Or else you would never have awoken from that dream."
"What?" Matthias spoke in a harsh, disbelieving whisper.
Stowe held up a hand so that the guards paused. He wanted to hear the end of this one himself.
"Only magical beings can break a Dream Rider's spell. Only Fey."
"I'm clearly not Fey," Matthias said.
The world was shifting here. Stowe moved near Burden as well. The muscles stood out in Matthias's left arm as he squeezed the vial of holy water. He would break it i
f he wasn't careful.
"That's right, you're not," Burden said. "But you have magic. You broke out."
Matthias shook his head. His face was paler than it had been before. A slender Danite came up beside him and took his arm with a familiarity Stowe had never seen in the Tabernacle. "We should go," the Danite said.
Fey 02 - Changeling Page 52
