Spirit (11 page)

“He
was coming; he was just helping me, so it slowed him down.” Gwyn made a noise
of contempt when I explained. Rather than reply, he just gripped the reins of
his steed and swung up easily into the high saddle. Gwyn adjusted himself,
making sure his feet were in the stirrups properly and that he was comfortable
where he was, tugging on his gloves, flexing his fingers – doing everything
possible besides looking down at me.

“So
I decided to take your advice.” I reached to scratch Balor behind his ears.

“I
gave no advice,” Gwyn cut in.

“Yeah,
whatever,” I said, refusing to argue about semantics. “Anyway, I’m going to try
to find the edge of the Outlands.” He made an ugly noise, scoffing at the very
idea of me doing the seemingly impossible. “I realized though you didn’t tell
me how to actually find the edge.”

“How
about that,” he said. He looked off into the distance, his brow furrowing as if
he were trying to see farther than his eyes would allow.

“Any
chance you could tell me?” I pressed.

“There
is always a chance,” he replied.

“Gwyn,
please tell me how to get to the edge,” I said, picking my words deliberately.

“The
pixie girl is learning the game,” he said before letting out another of those
ear piercing whistles. The hunting party gathered, horses whinnying and voices
falling to better hear their leader.

“Fine,
just don’t abandon me, not yet.” I reached out a hand to stop him, but the
horse danced out of my reach. “Can I ride with you for now?”

Gwyn
cocked a silvery eyebrow at me, his lips pursed as he stared down at me. I knew
I was taking a risk, but until I knew how to work the magic of this world, I
didn’t have much choice.

“Very
well, find a horse,” Gwyn said before he set his heels into his horse and
started off. The herd around me became a rising tide as they followed in a
thunder of hooves and paws. Balor barked at me and whined, staring up at me
with wide, red eyes.

“It’s
okay, boy,” I said, touching his head again. “Just go.” He hesitated for
another moment until we heard Gwyn’s whistle. Balor turned and hurried to catch
up. I ran in the opposite direction, looking for a rider-less horse. At the
back of the pack, I found a string of horses led by the gremlin who gave me
food the night before. He nodded when I asked to take one of the horses, but
that was all the help I got.

I
had to untie the horse myself, pull it to the side, and mount it all on my own.
I was just grateful for the worn and tattered saddle already strapped to it. Though
it provided very little comfort, I figured it was much better than riding
bareback. I needed more than a couple of tries to haul myself up. The horse was
much taller than any of the ponies I’d ridden at the county fair. By the time I
was up and situated, the herd was almost out of sight, going over the rise of
hills. I spurred the horse forward, getting it into a reluctant trot, but it
refused to gallop. I gasped in surprise, feeling myself wobble when the horse
lurched forward. Heat rushed to my face when I realized the horse had hardly
moved a foot. I was going to suck at this horse-riding thing. I clung to the reins,
but they provided no stability. I tugged back on them too hard and the horse
came to a stop, huffing and shaking his head.

“Crap,”
I whispered and clicked my tongue to get him walking again. I bit down on my
lip. I was terrified if the herd left my line of sight, then they would
magically disappear, leaving this area just as they had left the forest. Riding
the horse was more than a little awkward since I hadn’t really ever ridden a
horse, except for the occasional petting zoo merry-go-round rides. I tried not
to think about that though. I just gripped the saddle hard enough to make my
legs tremble as I clung to the reins, convinced they weren’t enough to keep me
safely up there. Every moment, I was sure I would fall right off and be
trampled underfoot.

I
nudged the horse on with my heels. I tried to hit it with the ends of the reins,
but I was terrified I would anger it, so mostly I just swung the ends of the reins
around. Finally the horse started to go a little faster, giving me some hope I
would catch them. Once over the crest of the hill, I saw the Hunt charging
downhill. As I watched, the leaders began to fade from sight, as if they were
being swallowed by darkness.

“Crap!”
I yelled, and I reached back and smacked the horse on its rear, willing it to
run. The horse reared up on his back legs and screamed, nearly throwing me. Only
my fingers clutching its tangled mane kept me in the saddle. With a burst of
speed, he took off like a shot, racing down the hillside, whipping my hair
back, bringing tears to my eyes as the air stung my face.

My
horse caught up with the last wagon, his hooves pounding against the ground by
the rear wheel, just as the driver disappeared along with the rest. I held my
breath, praying I was close enough. This time I kept my eyes open, watching the
air shimmer. The snout of my horse disappeared from sight, but a moment later,
I was through, charging behind the herd. I finally released the breath I had
been holding, feeling relief rush over me, nearly knocking me from my saddle.

I
passed the wagon and the bat-winged driver and came up alongside the other
riders, though none of them paid me much attention. I felt a little more
comfortable on my horse, galloping along at a steady pace. The sound of hooves
on the packed earth was almost mesmerizing, so I took a chance to look around
at our new surroundings.

We
were racing through a gorge between two vast mountains easily five times larger
than the hills we had camped by. Grey rocks sprouted out of the sides of the
mountains, covered by green moss. The very peaks of the mountains were capped
in melting snow, trickles of water making thin rivulets in the ground.

The
goblins, dwarves, and other Fae creatures bent forward over their horses,
urging them on, eager smiles lighting their faces as their hands and claws
gripped their reins. I turned my attention back to my own horse and leaned
forward, putting my face close to its neck. I could smell the musk of the horse
and the cut earth underfoot. I let go of the reins and grabbed handfuls of the
horse’s mane. The rhythmic gallop rolled through my body and the air rushed
around me, whipping my hair into a tangled frenzy. I began to smile.

My
horse sped up almost imperceptibly, as if he could feel my sudden acceptance.
We passed one group and then another until we were among the dogs and beasts
too large to ride horseback, including the giant Redcap who ran along on all
fours, much like the red-eared dogs.

One
of the dogs barked loudly on my left, pulling my attention away from the bloody
cap. Balor loped alongside me. His red mouth was open, letting his long tongue
flail out of the side of his mouth and making him look like he was grinning
when he craned his head back to look up at me. I laughed for the first time
since before I died. Reaching down, I brushed the tips of his red ears with my
fingers. Balor lifted his head again to nip gently at my hand before he darted
forward, following his pack.

Suddenly
a horn was blown from somewhere at the head of the hunting party. I glanced up
to see a small man running, veering up the side of the mountain, trying to
evade the Hunt. Over the thunder of the paws and hooves and claws pounding on
the ground, I could hear him screaming, begging for mercy, slowing as the slope
of the mountain became too steep. The small brown hat he wore flew off his
head, catching a current of air and sailing over the herd of the Hunt. One of
the three goblins that had teased me caught the hat with his pointy fingers and
cried out in triumph as if he had caught the catch of the day. The man fell to
all fours, clawing at the ground until he finally fell face down and slid back
a few yards.

He
rolled onto his back and screamed when he saw the Hunt bearing down on him. He
tried to crabwalk backward, but the loose dirt under his hands and feet made
him slide back two feet for every foot he gained. The hounds were howling and
the horses were screaming. The riders yelled and cheered, their arrows knocked
and bowstrings pulled. Swords and spears were gripped as they rode, every face
drawn in excitement and joy. Exhilaration crackled in the air. It was heady and
tempting. I leaned over the back of my horse, my face close to his neck and my
fingers gripping the mane eagerly, as we sped up, coming closer and closer to
the fallen man.

He
screamed again, inconsequential pleas for mercy falling from his mouth. Finally,
he dove to the side and rolled down the side of the mountain, rocks and pebbles
tearing at his skin, jacket, and trousers as he tumbled out of reach. Like a
flock of birds changing direction, the Hunt crested up the mountainside,
veering to the left and arcing back around. They came down the slope, expertly
dodging the same rocks and pebbles that had tripped him up. The air rushed
around me, flavored with the hollers and whistles of my fellow riders, until I
finally lifted my head and cried out with them when the first of the riders
came down upon the trapped man. He screamed again, but the sound was swallowed
by the thundering hooves and braying dogs.

The
Hunt rushed on, and I couldn’t help but look for the man as I passed over the
last spot I had seen him. But the place was empty, and the man was gone. Not
one arrow or spear littered the ground. The raised weapons I had noted were all
put away, swords in their scabbards, arrows in their quivers. Only the spears
remained in hand, out of convenience, but lowered, hanging parallel to the
horses’ backs.

With
a furrowed brow, I shook my head harshly, shaking off the intoxication of the
ride, trying to shake the echoes of the voices out of my mind. I sat up
straight in my saddle and took the reins again, dropping the tangled locks of
my ride’s mane. My fingers tingled painfully from gripping the horse’s mane,
and my legs and arms shook from the effort of clinging to its back during the
frantic ride. I wondered how I hadn’t noticed my muscles fatiguing while we
rode, but I imagined it was part of the magic of the Hunt.

“Enjoyed
that, did we?” a familiar voice asked. Gwyn had circled back and snuck up on
me. He sat much taller in his saddle than I did, and his overlong locks drifted
behind him. His horse was two hands taller than any other horse, putting Gwyn
even higher than anyone else.

“What
happened to the man?” I asked, ignoring his question.

“He
is there,” Gwyn answered with a lazy wave of his hand. I turned to look where
he indicated and saw the man on horseback, his jacket and trousers still
tattered. The goblin that had caught his hat now wore it and rode next to him,
talking with a large grin that showed his pointy teeth. They were too far away
from me to hear what was being said, but the man looked a little green in the
face, and his eyes were dark with sorrow as he looked resolutely forward.

“So
what? You hunted him down only to make him part of the Hunt?” I asked, turning
back to Gwyn.

“That
is how it has always been and how it will always be.” Gwyn swayed naturally in
his seat, his body moving with the cant of his mount.

I
was unable to keep from glancing in his direction. “What did he do?”

“He
did what he did,” Gwyn said, not answering me at all. I bit my tongue, holding
back the sarcastic comment I wanted to say but would do me no good.

“So,”
I said, blowing out a breath, “he’s just part of the Hunt now that you caught
him?” Gwyn nodded slightly, the motion almost lost in the sway of his body.
“But I’m not part of the Hunt.”

“You
weren’t being hunted.”

“Right,
but you still found me,” I pressed.

“Would
you like to be part of the Hunt?” Gwyn asked, finally turning his head toward
me, his eyebrows lifted, wrinkling his pale brow.

“No,”
I said quickly, “I just don’t want to get caught in some damn faerie trap
because I didn’t understand something.”

“Hmph.”
Gwyn nodded, turning his face away from me.

“Did
someone call the Slaugh down on him?” I lifted my chin in the man’s direction,
but Gwyn just ignored my question. Maybe having the Slaugh invoked on you was a
personal matter, something inappropriate for someone else to talk about.

One
of the goblins had jumped from their mount and onto the man’s shoulders,
tugging at his hair and chattering away in his foreign language to the other
goblins who were laughing hysterically. As I watched, tears leaked out of the
man’s eyes, sliding down to splash on the lapels of his jacket. His mouth was
pressed into a hard, thin line, refusing to give voice to the sobs he so
clearly wanted to release. I had no idea what he may have done, but it hurt
something inside of me to see another human there, now trapped forever,
possibly for one stupid mistake.

“Remember
what I said to you, Shay,” Gwyn said, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I
turned to look at him, trying to figure out what he was talking about. “What
you said to me?”

“If
you wish to escape the Outlands, you must do so before you become part of the
Hunt,” he said, leaning slightly in my direction as if to underscore his words.

“Right,
I know,” I said, feeling the confusion pinch my face, but he just shook his
head at me before putting his heels to his horse and taking off ahead of
everyone again. I was left staring after him.