Faery Worlds - Six Complete Novels (113 page)

They burst out of the forest of pale trees into a midnight landscape. Shadows lay heavy on the land, and there was no moon.

“Puck - where are you?” The blackness pressed against Jennet. She swallowed the sourness of her own fear.

“Here!” The sprite grabbed her robes again and towed her forward, at a speed that made her stumble.

Up one hill, then down. Up another, pressing forward through brambles that raked at her skin. Breath rasped through her throat.

Puck was grimly silent. Only the constant pull on her robes let her know he was still there.

Up ahead, a faint light shone through the dark. She squinted and made out a single lantern hanging from a post, illuminating the pale dust of two roads crossing. A crossroads.

“Miles Cross?” she gasped.

“Hurry!” Abruptly, Puck’s grip on her eased.

She whirled, but the sprite had disappeared. With his last command ringing in her ears, Jennet sprinted forward.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

J
ennet ran into the pale circle of light at the crossroads. The silence of the night was marred by her great, gasping breaths.

Nobody here yet. She had made it in time. She wrapped both hands around her staff and tried to get her breathing back under control.

She could make out a circle of standing stones in the darkness across the road. The trembling rush of her blood steadied as she looked at the stones, faintly illuminated by the lantern. Wait. She blinked and looked again. The stones themselves were softly lit, as though they were glowing with centuries of absorbed starlight.

A noise pulled her attention back to the road. Something was coming, something still distant - barely felt in the vibration of hooves, the faint drift of chiming bells.

Her heartbeat slammed through her chest. She had to hide - but where? Not the stone circle, it was too far. Her gaze darted around the shadowed edges of the light. There, a bit of leaves with a darker mass behind. A thorny bush, just big enough for her to crouch behind. She hurried behind it and knelt down. The soil was cool beneath her knees and a prickle grazed the back of one hand, but it was the best she could do.

There were lights moving along the road, some twinkling, some steady. The sound of bells was stronger. A soft wind swirled around her, carrying the scent of spice and frost. The Dark Queen’s court was approaching. And with them, Tam Linn.

The words of the ballad ran through her head. She had read them over and over all day, until she felt the shape of them burned into her brain.

Oh first let pass the black horse,

And then let pass the brown,

But quickly run to the milk-white steed

And pull the rider down.

Tam would be riding the white horse. She’d grab on to him - and then the transformations she’d read about would begin. No matter what, she had to hold on.

Something tickled the back of her mind. Something essential she had forgotten. Come on, what was it. Think! She covered her ears with her hands, trying to block out the sound of the imminent faeries. Trying to block out the fear that rose in a dark, suffocating wave. The ballad said… it said…

At last they’ll turn me in your arms

Into a naked knight,

Then cloak me in your mantle green

And cover me from sight.

That was it; the green cloak. Oh god, she’d nearly lost before she’d even begun. She drew in a ragged breath, trying to imagine it in perfect detail. Long green cloak. With a hood.

“A mantle green.” She whispered the words.

It appeared, lying soft and heavy in her arms. She pulled it on, awkwardly, since she was kneeling on the ground, and tied it around her neck. Now she was ready. Barely.

The Dark Court slowed as they reached the crossroads. From her hiding place, she scanned the ranks of creatures. The very front of the company was led by a row of figures in pale armor, lances prickling up, faces covered by their helms. Behind them cavorted redcap goblins, their faces grotesque, their teeth glinting and sharp.

Other creatures, half-animal in form, trailed them. Was that walking clump of brown hair Fynnod? Before she could tell, a faerie with the head of a bird and feathery wings blocked her view. A delicate bevy of maidens followed, their hair like spun moonlight, silver bells edging their gossamer robes.

And behind them… she shivered. The Black Knight riding his black charger, forbidding in his midnight armor. Then came the Dark Queen, beautiful as an eclipse, on a chestnut mare. Jennet’s mouth went dry and she shrank down behind her bush, which suddenly felt far too small to conceal her. The black horse, and the brown. Where was the white horse?

The company halted and the queen spoke. Her voice was the edge of twilight, full of mystery and dark promise.

“My court, long have we waited. Long have we languished while our strength waned, deprived of the essence that sustains us. But on this eve we renew the land. On this eve we reclaim our ancient birthright. On this eve we open a gateway to the mortal realm!”

A clamor of fey and feral voices greeted her words. The queen raised one hand, and the noise subsided.

“Honor our sacrifice,” she said, “for he is a brave knight, and true. And now, we shall pay the tiend. Onward - the stones await!”

The faeries surged forward, and Jennet bolted to her feet. Fear sliced through her, sharp and unstoppable. Where was Tam?

The Black Knight thundered past. Next came the queen, her gaze fixed on the stones ahead, her face lit with unearthly beauty. Finally, finally, a white horse. The rider was garbed in gold and crimson glory, an ornate mask covering his face. It had to be Tam. Had to be. Jennet flung herself forward.

The horse was tall, but she was desperate. She managed to get her arms around Tam’s waist, even though he didn’t stop. Her shoulders burned as she was dragged forward. There was no traction, no way to pull him down.

“Tam!” she yelled. “Get off the horse! Tam, do you hear me?”

He didn’t even glance at her - it was like she didn’t exist. Jennet swallowed the desperate sob building in her throat. She couldn’t hold on much longer.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a figure overtaking them. Some fey creature, ready to strike her down. Fingers numb, she ignored it and kept holding onto Tam. The figure drew up on the other side of the white horse.

“Get ready,” a voice called, and Jennet jerked her gaze up to see an achingly familiar face. Thomas. Here to help.

She nodded, and Thomas set his hands to Tam’s unresponsive shoulder. He gave a shove. Tam teetered a moment in the saddle then, finally, fell. Jennet’s arms were locked around his waist as together they tumbled backward to land in a bone-jarring tangle on the ground. Her side burned and she couldn’t grab a breath. The mask slid off to reveal Tam’s face, his eyes wide and confused.

“Tam!” Air whooshed into her lungs. She leaned forward and kissed him, a quick, relieved press of her lips to his. They would get through this. “Can you stand up?”

It would be easier to hold on to him that way. Her right arm was twisted uncomfortably underneath his waist, but she didn’t want to tug it free. Hold on - no matter what. Hold on.

“Jennet?” Tam shook his head, sending a swatch of brown hair across one eye. He sat up, and she shifted her grip, both hands tight around his arm. “I—”

A blast of thunder shook the sky, the sound so deep Jennet felt more than heard it. Her whole body vibrated, and she nearly lost her grasp on Tam again. The air brightened, as though the sun had leaped into the sky. She looked up, then wished she hadn’t. The night sky was now a tattered cloth, the stars blazing white-hot behind the scrim of dark, shedding an eerie, furious glow.

Around them, the fey-folk were crying out and covering their heads. The orderly procession was now a panicked jumble, the sound of bells clashing and discordant.

“HALT!” The queen’s command filled the air, like an echo of thunder.

Silence followed - an awful, frozen silence. The only movement was the Dark Queen, her face filled with a terrifying wrath as she rode to where Jennet knelt beside Tam.

“Brave knight,” she said, turning the force of her midnight beauty on Tam. “Rise, and mount again. The circle lies but nine paces on, and you shall be safe therein.”

Jennet bit her lip, hard. If Tam wanted to pull free, she didn’t know if she could fight him. “Tam,” she breathed.

He gave no sign that he’d heard her.

The queen’s face softened and she held out one delicate hand. “Come.”

“No,” he said. “I’m safe right here.”

Jennet swayed with relief. Then she saw the queen’s expression and stiffened again. It wasn’t going to be that easy. Of course not. There were all the transformations to get through. She tightened her hands around Tam’s arm.

“No?” The queen’s voice was a killing frost. “If you will not take leave of this mortal, then I shall make
her
take leave of you.” She raised an arm and cast her voice over the eldritch crowd. “The final price then they will pay, ‘ere I cry Tamlin’s away!”

Whatever that meant. Jennet looked at Tam, about to urge him to get up again, but the words stilled in her throat. He was changing, his features flattening out grotesquely, his limbs disappearing… she couldn’t hold his arm anymore because he had no arm.

The icy laughter of the Dark Queen cut through her panic. Jennet reached forward and grabbed what Tam was turning into. Scales slid under her palms, but she hugged him tight against her. The smell of something dry and ancient assaulted her nose. The body pressed against hers was one long rope of writhing muscle.

Snake!
the primitive part of her brain shrieked, but she made herself hold on. Even when a sibilant hiss made her look up, right into a fanged mouth. Even when she felt the coiled tension that signaled it was about to strike.

A single whimper crawled out of her throat.

Hold on. No matter what.

The scales under her hand roughened, turned to fur. Another smell, rank and greasy, assaulted her senses. Tam had regained limbs, but they ended in wicked-looking yellow claws. Instead of fangs, she was confronted with a bear’s mouth, full of rending teeth.

Oh god. Hold on. It was Tam, under all that coarse black hair. He wouldn’t bite her. Please, don’t let him bite her.

The bear opened its mouth wider. She threaded her fingers into the fur and squeezed her eyes closed. The roar, when it came, shook through her. Midway through it changed from a bear’s bellowing to the threatening growl of a great cat.

She forced her eyes open, and met the feral gaze of a lion.
Run!
the mouse inside her squeaked. Death and ruin in those yellow eyes.

Don’t let go.

From a distance, she heard the Dark Queen’s voice, raised in wild chanting. The huge, furry body in her arms began to shrink and darken. It grew heavy and cool, one moment a live thing, the next inert metal in her hands. She looked down and blinked. A bar of iron lay in her palms.

They were almost done.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

T
he iron bar began to glow. A sullen red at first, it started to give off heat, like a stove that had just been turned on. Jennet’s palms tingled, then stung, but she didn’t dare shift the bar from hand to hand. She couldn’t risk dropping it.

The metal got brighter, and with it the heat. She gritted her teeth and held on, despite the scorching in her hands. Despite the pain, the blisters forming on her skin. Her breath came in little pants, dry and shallow. Hold on.

The bar flared crimson. Too. Hot. Each breath carried a sob with it now, a high, keening noise she barely recognized as coming from her. She couldn’t… hold on. Dammit. Hold
on
.

It was like clutching a piece of the sun. So bright she couldn’t look at it, a pulsing gold-red that seared itself against her eyes. She couldn’t take her hands away - it felt as though the molten metal had fused itself to her body.