Moon Spun (25 page)

We’ll check.”

They were back within seconds. “Follow us.”

The final stretch of corridor was slanted steeply upward. In the distance, I saw an arched opening bathed in sunlight. Yes! I’d soon be out of this spooky old castle. I was in a flat-out sprint, heading for daylight when something grabbed me. A rough hand covered my mouth. Before I could work up a decent scream, I was yanked away from the opening and pinned against the corridor’s wall by a warm, muscular body.

Frantic to get free, I squirmed, kicked and scratched. No way was I going to be somebody’s dinner. Warm breath brushed my ear and I heard, “Hush, now. It’s me, Ryker.”

Ryker? A flood of relief hit me so hard my knees went wobbly.

“I’m going to remove my hand,” he whispered. “Be very quiet. The toadlings are drilling in the field by the moat.”

I nodded vigorously and Ryker released me. “Sorry about the rough treatment. I couldn’t risk having you run into the toadlings. Scared you pretty bad, huh?’

I stepped away and huffed, “Certainly not. I felt no fur so I figured it must be you.” Geez, I sounded exactly like Princess Oleander.

Ryker chuckled. “Sure you did.”

“Where are Melia’s people?”

“Did you see the second corridor that leads to the back of the castle?”

I nodded.

“The wine cellar is down that corridor. I found a storage area with empty barrels. Melia’s folk are inside the barrels. They’ll be safe until we figure out how to get them across the moat.”

“Maddie said something happened to Uncle Davey.”

“The toadlings netted him. He’s completely helpless. Unless we do something, he’ll be the main course at tonight’s feast. Once the toadlings are gone, we’ll cut him free.”

“What if they don’t leave?”

“They will,” Ryker said. “They march for a precise amount of time. Then, they go into the armory to sharpen their blades. It is the same each day.”

“How long before somebody checks the kitchen?”

“It depends. When I passed through the hall, very few of the fae were stirring. Once they wake, they’ll want food.”

“I didn’t have time to look for Melia.” I said.

Ryker gave me a brief smile, his white teeth gleaming in the dim light. “Don’t worry about my queen. She’s very resourceful.”

While we waited for the toadlings to clear out, the pixies amused themselves by looking for Argyle, but the spider was nowhere to be found. Yay!

About fifteen minutes later, (mortal time) the toadlings marched off the field. We found Uncle Davey in bad shape. They’d left him at the edge of the moat, tightly wrapped in a slimy net. Even though we weren’t exactly BFF’s, I had to hold back my tears when I saw his condition. Exhausted from fighting the net, the kelpie was struggling to breathe. His eyes were closed. Foam poured from his mouth and nose. Blood seeped from wounds where the toadlings had poked him with their spears.

From the corner of my eye, I caught a movement near the moat. Something had slipped into the water. Meg and Pookie?

Ryker swore under his breath. “Hinkey punks. Coming in for a little snack. We need to cut him loose . . . fast.”

373

I reached in the pouch for my Swiss Army knife and circled the kelpie, looking for a place to start. Ryker pulled the dagger from his belt. Uncle Davey opened one eye and growled, “Mortal girl. Free my head so I can use my teeth to rip the net. Hawk, start with the legs.”

Judging from the way he barked out orders, maybe he wasn’t in such bad shape after all. Cautiously, I approached the kelpie’s head. With a snort of impatience, he said, “Stop creeping around like a frightened little twit and get busy, mortal.”

“Hey!” I worked the blade of my knife under the tightly wound net. “Quit calling me mortal like I’m some disgusting species from an inferior race. I am a direct descendant of Melia, queen of the forest faeries. Your queen, I might add. So, show a little respect.”

“Humph,” the kelpie snorted, but his fleshy lips twitched in a brief smile. It was slow work, sawing through each stout strand of the net, especially since I was on the

“Humph,” the kelpie snorted, but his fleshy lips twitched in a brief smile. It was slow work, sawing through each stout strand of the net, especially since I was on the receiving end of Uncle Davey’s extremely bad breath. I tried to use the little scissors thinking they’d be faster. But after Uncle Davey made one of his caustic comment about “little girls and their scissors” I went back to the blade. The pixies kept a close lookout for toadlings and hinkey punks. Ryker worked on freeing Uncle Davey’s back legs. Every now and again, he glanced up at the flock of dark birds swirling around the highest tower.

“Ravens or crows?”

Ryker spat and scowled. “Neither. Werebats.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know what werewolves look like . . . right?”

“I’ve seen pictures.”

“Okay. Imagine werewolves the size of crows, but with bat wings.”

“Eeewww. Are they mean?”

“Does Uncle Davey have bad breath?”

“Huh?” Then, I realized Ryker was trying to make a joke, like “Does the Pope wear a pointy hat?” or “Does a bear crap in the woods?”

When I cut through the last strand constricting the kelpie’s snout, Uncle Davey said, “Stand back. I’ll do the rest.”

Ryker and I backed away. Uncle Davey tossed his head, grabbed a section of netting between his powerful jaws and ripped. Pop, pop, pop! Astonished, Ryker and I watched Uncle Davey systematically destroy the rest of the net. Nothing like a motivated kelpie to get the job done. When he got his feet under him, he stood and shook out his mane. Bits of slime flew through the air, splattering my face and the front of my apple tree tunic.

When Uncle Davey realized what he’d done, he dipped his head in my direction. “A thousand pardons, dear direct descendant of Melia, queen of the forest faeries. I seemed to have dirtied your bizarre costume.”

I shook my head and murmured to Ryker, “And you think I’m sarcastic?”

The kelpie turned his fierce gaze on Ryker. “Time is of the essence. Bring out Melia’s folk, six at a time.”

Thus, the process of sneaking Melia’s faeries across the moat began. Could it be Melia’s crazy quilt plan was actually going to work? Even though nobody knew where she was? We were at the halfway mark when the sprites showed up.

Irked, I said, “Where have you two been?”

Meg said, “When Uncle Davey got caught in the net, we couldn’t free him, so we went to fetch Thorndyke.”

Pookie added, “Check out the horn. It’s sharp enough to cut the net.”

374

A creature sprang from the moat and landed on the bank between the sprites. I’d seen my share of strange-looking fae in Boundless, but this one took the prize.

Standing upright, he had the head of llama, a shock of coarse orange hair that hung down his back, wings shaped like palm leaves, long skinny arms, huge thighs and hooves for feet. Oh, yeah, like the sprites said, he had one long pointy horn growing out of his forehead.

He nodded at Ryker who grinned. “Hey, Thorny. Welcome to the party.”

When the thing turned his elongated dark gaze toward me, I was speechless for a moment. Finally, I said, “Um, pleased to meet you, Thorndyke. As you can see, Uncle Davey is free.”

Thorndyke pursed his lips and blew a spit bubble, the universal sign of disgust. I hastened to add,

“But, stick around. I’ll bet we’ll find a use for that horn.”

Only twelve forest faeries were left to transport across the moat when Maddie sounded the alarm. “Eeee! Eeee! Toadlings coming. Hide! Hide!”

Ryker turned to the group of six he’d just led from the castle. “Go back! Now!” The faeries scampered back inside the castle, although I was sure that was the last thing they wanted to do. Uncle Davey, Thorndyke and the sprites slid into the moat.

Ryker pointed me toward the castle. “Upstairs. Quickly! Create a diversion. The toadlings will realize you’ve escaped and run into the castle. I’ll get the last group across the moat and then fly up and get you.”

Before I could answer, he ripped off his clothes and started to spin. As I picked up his dagger and ran for the castle, a dark cloud of werebats floated down from the towers. 375

Chapter Thirty One

Hoping the pixies had enough sense to hide from the werebats, I dashed up the circular staircase so quickly, I was wobbly-legged and dizzy when I reached Phaedra’s floor. I turned right and trotted to the end of the long hallway, trying to determine which room would look down on the field next to the moat. The first room I entered had heavy black curtains covering the window. I drew them back and found I was looking at the area behind the castle. Damn, I was completely screwed up, direction wise.

I burst into the room across the hall. Yes! Light streamed in through small double windows overlooking the field and moat. I shoved a large armoire in front of the door and scanned the field below. Toadlings, with spears held high, pounded around the corner of the castle. I spotted Uncle Davey swimming across the moat with six forest faeries on his back. Thorndyke stood on the bank, head lowered, waving his skinny arms as if to say, “Hey! Come and get me!”

But, the scariest scene was the one happening above ground. Hawk, half the size he’d been earlier, was fighting an aerial battle with the werebats. With open beak and outstretched claws, he was inflicting some righteous damage on critters foolish enough to get within range. Fur, feathers and blood flew.

I opened the window and yelled, “Yeah! Way to go, Hawk. Tell ‘em to eat your shorts!” Not exactly an appropriate comment for a non-shorts wearing species, but hey, I was under major stress. Toadling heads swiveled upward. I heard a chorus of gasps and grunts. The head honcho barked an order, and the whole crew took off toward the castle. Oh, goody, it was working. Now, all I had to do was worry about whether or not I could squeeze through the teensy window, and if Hawk, in his smaller form, could carry my weight. Little things like that.

Before long, I heard the flippity flap of toadling feet and knew my time was running out. Down below, Uncle Davey was crossing the moat with his last load. I spotted Pookie’s red head as she swam ahead of the kelpie. Meg, coiled whip in hand, patrolled the bank. Thorndyke was engaged in horn to hand combat with a hinkey punk.

The toadlings were getting closer.

“Hawk!” I screamed. “I could use a little help here.”

With three werebats in pursuit, he did a flyby and dipped his wings. I assumed this meant, “Next time around, get ready to jump on,” since there was no place for him to perch. Have I mentioned I don’t like high places? I risked a quick look straight down and my stomach did a couple of back flips. For this little procedure to be successful, I would have to crouch on the sill of the open window and leap on Hawk’s back when he flew by.

Bottom line: I had two choices. Let the weird reptilian freaks take me into custody or execute a death defying leap onto the back of a giant bird. Just as the toadlings hit the door, I squeezed through the window and squatted on the sill.

Hawk was circling below the window, four werebats nipping at his backside. With a loud screech, he spun in the air and, with a slash of his talons, sent the two of the werebats plummeting earthward. Very impressive! I was so caught up in Hawk’s maneuvers, I was completely unprepared for what happened next. The two surviving werebats peeled away from Hawk and flew straight at me, all red eyes, sharp claws and pointy fangs. I gripped Ryker’s dagger and slashed wildly at their wicked furry faces. The blade sliced into one of the werebats. It screeched and fell away. The other raked its talons 376

across my arm leaving a long, bloody scratch. I howled in pain but managed to keep hold of the dagger.

Behind me, something heavy bashed into the door. “Hawk!” I screamed. “Get up here. They’re breaking the door down!”

With a few flaps of his powerful wings, Hawk gained altitude and began to circle closer to the window. Don’t look down, Allie. Perched on the sill, I gripped the window frame, muscles coiled and ready to spring onto Hawk’s back. Closer and closer he flew. As he drew close to the window, he began to soar, dipping the wing closest to me downward so I’d have a clear shot at his back. Frozen with fear, I just sat there and watched him sail by, totally missing my golden ticket to freedom.

“Dummy, dummy, dummy!” I yelled at myself. “What’s the matter with you?”

Hawk wheeled around in disbelief, opened his beak and let loose with a squawk that had to mean, “What the hell just happened?”

He got ready to make another pass. The door behind me splintered and I heard the toadling version of, “There she is. Grab her!”

Okay, now I was ready. Hawk soared close and dipped his wing. With a bloodcurdling scream, I did a flat-out racing dive off the sill and landed face first on Hawk’s back.

I clamped my legs around his body and grabbed a handful of feathers. A spear whizzed by my ear. I flattened myself against Hawk’s back and screamed, “Oh my God, they’re trying to kill us.”

Hawk flapped his wings like crazy, trying to gain enough altitude to get out of reach of the toadlings’ range. My extra weight was making it difficult. Plus, the dang werebats just wouldn’t give up. At least six of them were on our tail. I clung to Hawk’s feathers with one hand and slashed at the werebats with the other. I had no idea where Hawk was heading. Right now, we were just trying to stay alive.

I breathed a bit easier when he managed to get us above the towers. It cost him, though. His beak was opened wide, his breathing labored. He’d saved my butt. I needed to do something to help him out.

I leaned close to his head. “You need to rest. Fly across the moat into the forest. We’ll be safe there.”

He turned his head, fixed me with his yellow gaze and squawked. I knew what it meant. He wouldn’t leave without Melia.

Exhausted from his efforts, Hawk caught an updraft and soared away from the castle. The territorial werebats finally flew back to the towers. It was almost pleasant, sailing along under a bright blue. No werebats. No toadlings. The forest faeries were free. Hopefully, the pixies were with them. I knew it was too good to be true and, sure enough, it was. Hawk wheeled around and headed back toward the castle.