The Master

by Melanie Jackson

  Behind her, the air filled with an inhuman howling that shook the very stone of the cave and drowned out the goblins’ screams: It was the war cry of a hobgoblin. Qasim, master of all hobgoblins, was making his last stand.

  Zee said a prayer to the Goddess, whom as a child she had always been forbidden to worship, asking for something she had never thought she would request: that Qasim would not give his life in vain. That her child would be spared—for her sake and for Nick, but also because it might save the hobgoblins. Hobgoblins! Yet, she wished this with all her heart. Qasim looked to be a monster, but in the end he had turned out more compassionate than her own people.

  Chapter Seven

  Nick stopped dead in his tracks in the tunnel, as stunned as if he had been clubbed in the head or stabbed in the chest. “Zee?” he whispered. “Where are you? What happened?”

  She didn’t answer, she was elsewhere, but he knew that she was in trouble—bad trouble. He had to go to her. Now! But . . . Nick looked at the children around him. They were his responsibility, too. Most of the goblins had been left behind, probably all barbecued or shot, but that wasn’t the only danger. Could he safely leave these defenseless children with the Pied Piper of Hamelin as their only guardian?

  “You’re forgetting Abrial and Nyssa,” Farrar said, as though reading his mind—which he probably was. It was an annoying trick that ghosts seemed to have. “Even if I was inclined to make off with these kiddies, your friends would find me—and be very ir ritated when they did. Go after your woman. I shall see the children safely away.”

  As if to reinforce this command, the dragon appeared, backing into the room while being careful with its massive tail. Farrar blew a quick trill, parting the children so that the serpent had room to maneuver. There were a few weak goblin shouts and a flurry of arrows, which the dragon’s scales turned away. Then two goblins leapt into the room, waving guns.

  Nick lifted his rifle, but the dragon breathed an answer to the goblin’s puny assault before he could even aim. Flaming lutins hurtled through the air and splattered against the wall. Their flesh was burnt away instantly, their skeletons melted by the heat.

  “I can take it from here,” the dragon said, head whipping around. Nick swore it gave a toothy grin. “Go find your woman. She and Nyssa and Bysshe are being chased through the tunnels that lead back to Cadalach. It is too small for me to follow where they go. Qasim bought them some time, but Nyssa is in labor and Zee has been hurt. They need a healer. You must get to them.”

  Qasim? Nick wanted to know about the hobgoblin and why he was supposedly helping the women—and why they were in a place where they needed help—but he didn’t wait for more explanation. He turned in the direction from whence he had sensed Zee’s mental call for help, and he ran as he had never run in his life.

  Zee did her best to keep up with Nyssa and Bysshe—a not-so-difficult task, because Nyssa had gone into labor and her contractions slowed her to a stagger. Bysshe had her hands full just keeping her daughter upright and moving, so neither of them noticed as Zee began to lag behind.

  Qasim had kept his word and somehow sealed the passage behind them. The goblins had tried blasting it open, but whatever the hobgoblin had done, the way had so far been closed off.

  Truthfully, Zee wasn’t worrying about the goblins anymore. She knew her bleeding was bad, and she was growing weak and dizzy. And inside, she knew something was wrong. Her child was hurting. She had to get back to the shian—back to Nick. He would save her and their baby. The desperate thought drove her, giving her some urgently needed energy.

  Her world was going black, though. Her vision narrowed to the barest of tunnels, where she could see only the dimmest gleams of light. She knew the passage they were in now, knew it should be sparkling like diamonds lit by blue fire. She also knew that she should feel warm—but she did not. All the world was cold, an arctic wasteland lost in eternal night. And she was alone, so alone!

  There was a constant ringing in her ears as well, as though a tuning fork was struck on her brain and left to vibrate. It filled her head with pain.

  “I found Abrial!” Nyssa gasped. Her voice came from very far away. “They did it! The children are all together with Farrar and the dragon, and Abrial’s on his way here with Zayn. Jack and Roman are meeting up with Cyra and Io. Lyris is already back at the shian. Everything is fine.”

  Nyssa’s footsteps faltered again as a contraction seized her. This time, her mother couldn’t hold her up.

  “Sit down before you fall down,” Bysshe instructed.

  “Damn it! I am not having this baby in a damned goblin hole. I—Zee! Mother, what’s wrong with Zee?”

  What was wrong with Zee was that she had lost too much blood. The world tilted suddenly, and Zee fell into Bysshe’s outstretched arms and was lowered gently to the floor. She was certain from her difficulty breathing that at least one rib had punctured her left lung.

  “Zee, why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” Bysshe demanded, pushing Zee’s sweater aside so she could see the wound. The healer’s reaction wasn’t good. She went totally still, and Zee could still see well enough to make out her stricken expression.

  “Don’t worry,” Zee said, trying to comfort her. What else could she say? There was nothing Bysshe could have done to help her, not with the goblins chasing them and her own daughter in labor. “Nick will know how to fix me. Qasim said so.”

  “Don’t talk,” Bysshe said, tearing off a piece of her shirt and wadding it against Zee’s side. Zee knew it wasn’t a good sign that she couldn’t feel the pressure through her pain.

  “Thomas says that Nick is already on his way,” Nyssa panted, bracing herself against the tunnel wall. Contractions wrung her body. “He felt Zee get hurt. . . . Damn it. . . . Nick left the dragon and Farrar a few minutes ago. . . . Hang on, Zee. . . . Nick and Zayn will both be here in a minute. They can fix anything.”

  But a minute would be too late; Zee knew that. In spite of her brave words to Bysshe, she could already feel her spirit unwinding from her body and slipping away.

  I’m sorry, Qasim.

  And Nick, I love you. I only wish I told you when I had the chance.

  Nick peeled off his leather shirt as he ran, no longer caring if the goblin salts in the air dried or tore his skin; for some reason he just couldn’t breathe properly, and he felt terribly constricted in his chest. His left side was one long flame of pain, which caused him to remain hunched over. So, though driven by panic, an ancient Egyptian mummy could have run faster than he.

  Still, he knew that he was heading in the right direction and that he was getting close. Zee’s voice was fading, but Nick could feel her presence now, and it grew stronger with each staggering step he took.

  Nick felt alienated from himself, freed from his old conscience yet chained to something new. He wondered if he would miss his old limited understanding of the world. Would he miss being an island unto himself? It wasn’t that he had become a ruthless monster or suddenly believed that the ends always justified the means—although in this case they did. It was just that the rules of the universe had changed because the universe itself was different. He would kill or die to protect Zee—that was his new reality.

  As if to test his resolve, a troll cross leapt in front of him. Nick never slowed. Ignoring the pain, he jumped for the armed monster and, making an educated guess about its anatomy based on its outward similarities to a human, he struck what should be a killing blow; he landed with a knee on the creature’s chest, slamming it into the ground even as he used a sharp chop to the throat to crush its trachea. The windpipe collapsed with a sick, crunching sound. The wound didn’t kill immediately, but Nick knew the troll wouldn’t be getting up to follow.

  The troll cross convulsed as Nick sprang to his feet, and it fired the gun it was carrying in its lower left hand. Fortunately, the shot went wide, and Nick was away before the dying creature could get off another blast.

  Ears ringing, pain worse than ever, N
ick ran on, feeling his way as much as seeing it, for his eyesight was dimming. “Zee, don’t you die,” he gasped.

  It took him a moment to notice that Abrial was suddenly running beside him, a supporting hand under his left arm that propelled Nick down the tunnel.

  “Left,” Nick gasped.

  “I know,” Abrial said. “Zee is with Nyssa, who’s having our baby right now.” The nightdemon hesitated. “You can probably tell from the sympathetic pain, but Zee has broken several ribs that have punctured her left lung. She’s bleeding heavily.”

  Nick tried to run faster and found that he could. Abrial obliged him by keeping pace and holding more of his weight. Nick sensed that the nightdemon could have moved even faster, but he was deliberating slowing himself to stay with Nick.

  “There is one other thing you should know,” Abrial warned. “Nyssa says that Zee found out that she is with child.”

  “Zee’s pregnant?”

  “Yes.” Nick sensed Abrial wanted to say more, but left it at that. “Zayn is right behind us. He may be able to help you with Zee.”

  Nick stared doggedly ahead, trying to understand what Abrial wasn’t saying. But his brain refused to think of anything except the fact that there was only one more bend in the tunnel and then he would be with Zee.

  And then he was there, looking down at his lover, who was as pale as salt, her eyes sunken in and her chest barely moving. Her clothes were drenched in bright red blood. More blood than anyone could lose and survive.

  Nick stared, stunned. Zee was close to death. Only a few weak heartbeats away. How had this happened? She was supposed to be safe! If anyone was going to get hurt, it was supposed to have been him.

  “I’ve done what I can,” Bysshe said, shifting away to make room for Nick. “The rest is up to you, boy. I just hope the bond is strong enough to save her.”

  Zee dreamed that she dined at a feast on a table so long that she could not see the end of it. Every food she had ever imagined was there. But though she ate and ate, she was not sated, and it occurred to her that she was only dining on new hallucinations shaped like her old dreams.

  The thought was painful, but it seemed right. Wherever she was, there would be no true succor or comfort to be had here.

  One thing would make her hunger cease, and one thing alone: She had to fill herself with the thing that would never be depleted. Not meat, not a dream of freedom, but love—that was the only thing that was real and eternal. Only with this, would the void inside her finally be filled. Love— that was the world’s most sumptuous dish. It was what she had always craved. And though she hadn’t found in her family the kind of love to end her soul hunger, it didn’t mean that all relationships would be as fruitless and unfulfilling.

  But how to find that love now? She was so hungry—so tired and weak.

  Fear, child. It is your fear that makes the void inside you and makes you weak. You must have faith that your future can change.

  Fear. Yes, and she had clung to her fear even after she had seen the Goddess and she had been told that she was safe and could let herself love.

  Yes, and now it’s time to let the old wounds heal, to fill up your soul with what is good and nourishing.

  Zee nodded weakly. But how?

  First, child, you must pluck out every arrow that punctured your heart. Forgive the cruelties inflicted on you. Empty yourself of that poison and disappointment. Only then will the pain cease, and will you be able to believe that your future shall be different than your past.

  Zee did what the Goddess asked. She reached inside herself and took hold of one of the arrows that had pierced her heart. She jerked it out and instantly felt a bit better. She held up the arrow. It had writing on it. The words said: bad daughter. That was from her mother. Zee threw it away and reached for another. This one also had writing on it. She recognized Luz’s rough hand: Half-breed traitor.

  Zee threw that arrow aside as well, and felt stronger. After that she worked faster, not pausing to read what all the painful shafts said, just pulling them out and casting them away. But there was no way to move fast enough.

  Nick stared at Zee, trying to understand the meaning of Bysshe’s words through his growing despair.

  Too late! I’m too late! Nothing can save her.

  “Stop that!” Bysshe shook Nick and said gently, “It isn’t too late. Her spirit is still here; I can see it. Nick! I know that your relationship has been difficult and that it is awfully soon for you to know your feelings, but you can still save her. All you have to do is search for her with love.”

  “Love?” he repeated stupidly. How could love stop bleeding or give Zee back a whole lung?

  “Listen to me, Nick: This isn’t about the body. It’s about the spirit. The soul is the place of record for love given, for love taken. For perfect love hoped for, and for imperfect love that somehow grew more perfect in spite of its flaws. Look into your woman’s eyes—really look—and you will see what’s written in her soul. There is love there, I swear it. It is that which you must talk to. That is the only thing that can call her back. You are fey, Nick, and Zee’s mate. The magic will let you do this. Believe me.”

  Call her back? He wanted to . . . but how? Nick had never felt more helpless in his life. What did he know of magic? Still, Bysshe’s words brought faint hope. Faint hope that was growing stronger as he saw Abrial nod at him.

  “You can do this,” the nightdemon said. “All fey can. It’s part of us.”

  “I’m just not certain that I understand—still— what it means to be fey. How can I save her when I don’t even know what I am?” Nick asked. He turned to Zayn. “How will I know what to say and do? I’ve never worked a spell in my life. I’ve never seen one worked.”

  “You can know yourself, if that’s what you truly want,” Abrial said. “Your ancestral memories are on a sort of neurological umbilical cord linking you to your past—your hereditary destiny. All you have to do is unearth the link in your mind. Grab it, and it will take you home. Give the memories their voice and they will tell you the story of all that you are and all that you can be. You simply have to listen—but be prepared for what they might reveal. They will tell you who you are and what you need to do. They will give you the words to call back Zee’s soul. All you have to do is be brave and listen.”

  Did he really want to know his fey nature? No, not really, and especially not at this instant. What did that mean for his future? But nothing mattered when he compared his fear of unwanted knowledge against Zee’s life.

  But you must. We must, the ghost said.

  Determined, Nick dropped to Zee’s side, taking her cold hand in his and pulling it close. Around his own fist he could feel warmth and knew the ghost was with him, doing all he could to help her.

  Be strong.

  Though it was not his body that was dying, Nick’s entire life passed before his eyes, images pulled along by a rope of silver that raced away from him even as he watched, a reel of gleaming thread being wound around a spindle held in an old woman’s hands. She stared at him with fixed, dark eyes.

  He was four and then six. Eight and then ten. Images flashed by. His childhood had been privileged in many ways. There was plenty of food, good schools, travel for educational purposes—though he hadn’t visited Disneyland until a high-school field trip. He had enjoyed the visit, of course, but the Magic Kingdom had come along too late in his life. He hadn’t been able to believe in manmade enchantment. Mickey was just a guy in a mouse costume. And any awe Nick had, he stuffed deep inside where no one would see it—because that was what he always did. Because that was what he’d been taught to do.

  Seeing the end of the line, the last bit of light, Nick reached out a hand and clutched at the silver rope, trying to slow it down. Instead he was pulled along with it, dragged backward toward understanding and away from Zee. Frightened, he fought the rope but could not make himself let go; somehow the silver cord had embedded itself in his hand.

  Nick turned his h
ead, looking at his destination. The cord was ending in some sort of dull metal box. Now that he looked, Nick could see the box at the center of his soul—built by his family’s expectations and his own need for self-defense against their disappointment. And this was the place where all his joy and love had gone.

  Understanding blossomed. He wasn’t sure how he felt, discovering that the trouble wasn’t that he hadn’t had any magic in his life, but that it had been secured away from him all these long years in a treasury that he had hidden from his family and forgotten.

  But you know me now, a gentle feminine voice said. And I shall always be with you. Just let me in and you shall know all that you need to live.

  Yes. He knew magic now. And joy. And love. It had taken finding Zee—and then losing her—for Nick to rediscover that this strongbox existed, and where the keys to the lock were.

  Partly guided by the ghost, Nick grabbed the key that floated in the air and stuffed it into the box’s rusty lock. It hurt his hand and his heart, but he forced the key to turn.

  Above, his closed-up heart broke open, but it did not shatter into useless pieces as he half-expected it would. Instead it cracked open and let Zee’s love— and his unspoken love for her—come inside. Knowledge of his true nature came, too. All his doubt and fear disappeared.

  The ghost sighed a long exhalation of relief.

  Suddenly, he was beside Zee again, kneeling on the floor of the goblin tunnel.

  “Talk to her, Nick. Call her back,” Bysshe urged one last time. “Mother Nyx is near and drawing up the thread of life. You must hurry.”

  Nick nodded. He was no longer afraid. He had never worked any magic, but he understood what he had to do. The words came to him, supplied by the ghost, his older, wiser spirit. He looked into Zee’s dulled eyes and began to speak.

  “The music of the heart can be gentle—and it can be stirring. Maybe this isn’t news for you, Zee, being born with great compassion and an ability to love . . . but I didn’t know this. Before you, there was little joy in my life. In fact, there was not one day of glorious happiness. But those days are all gone, and now I know that you’re the reason I’m alive for the first time in years. There is color in my world, and happiness in my heart—and all because of you.