Tyger Tyger (25 page)

"Stay here?"

Teagan nodded. "My mom's promise was to Roisin, and it will make a way for her to get out, because Mom was Highborn Sídhe, right? And their promises have power. If you are with her, you can get out, too. Go back to Mamieo."

"And leave you and your baby brother to face Fear Doirich alone? What kind of a man do you think I am?"

"The Mac Cumhaill," Teagan said flatly. "Born enemy of goblinkind. You know Roisin was telling the truth about who we are."

"I knew it the moment she spoke the words," Finn said. "But I've a promise to keep."

That's right. He'd promised Aiden that he wouldn't let Fear Doirich keep him ... and that they'd leave together. Finn
was trapped by a promise to her brother ... who just happened to be a Highborn goblin like their mom.
He
had even less choice than he'd had before.
Teagan felt a great hollowness starting to grow inside her. Finn was trapped, bound tight by goblin webs and wiles.

"You have to do this, don't you?" she said softly. "Is there any way we can release you?"

Finn glared at her, then shook his head. "Aiden! Come on. Time to go get your da." He stalked toward the doorway.

Roisin followed them to the door, and stood weeping in the arch as they walked away.

"
Slán leaf
," she called, waving.

"
Slán agat
," Finn called back.

"What does that mean?" Aiden asked.

"'Goodbye,'" Finn said. "Goodbye from the one who stays, good-bye from the one who leaves."

Aiden started singing "I Got a Name." His voice wasn't strong, but it was much better than it had been the day before. The trees and bushes shifted, and the path appeared. Mag Mell seemed as happy this morning as she had been the day before, when Aiden first arrived with his songs.

Bright sprites and spriggans darted through the trees, warned off by Lucy's hisses or knife if they came too close to her boy. When she wasn't busy chasing away other sprites, she danced in the air above Aiden as he sang, a fan at her own private concert.

Finn was grimly silent, lost in his own thoughts or watching the woods.

Teagan tried to focus on Aiden rather than trying to figure out what was going on in Finn's head and heart.

"You don't need to sing for a bit," she said when Aiden's voice started to rasp. "You can start again if the path fades."

It not only didn't fade, but Mag Mell led them through more berry bushes, where they ate their fill. Lucy chased a beetle down for her own brunch, then played with Aiden, catching flowers he tossed into the air.

They'd walked through the morning when the path abruptly doubled back on itself and Teagan lost all sense of direction. Their water bottles were almost empty again, and they hadn't seen a spring for hours. Teagan wasn't sure they could trust any water they did find in this place.

The landscape had become bleak. There were many dying trees and very little undergrowth, as if there was something poisonous in the soil. Fungus and mold grew from bark-bare limbs and trunks in an unhealthy bloom. There were no creatures at all that Teagan could see.

Lucy settled into Aiden's hair and worked on her weaving, peeking out now and then and chirping unhappily. The still woods seemed to suck up the sounds, as if they were absorbed into the slime molds and curtains of fungus.

Teagan caught a movement from the corner of her eye, but when she turned to look, there was nothing but the pale, bare trunks of dying trees. When she looked at the trail ahead of her, she saw the movement again. This time she didn't turn her head but tried to process what she was seeing in her peripheral vision.

Shadow men. Shadow men who were hardly more than mist were pulling themselves up out of the moldy ground, then settling into the darkness under the trees. Teagan glanced at Finn. He nodded. He'd seen the dark mists rising, too.

"Aiden." Teagan cleared her throat. "I think it's time to sing again."

"No," Aiden said. "I don't want to sing. This place is too sad."

"I know." Teagan took Aiden's hand. "But I want you to close your eyes and sing Mamieo's song anyway."

"You mean there are monsters here?" Aiden looked around, and Teagan saw him stiffen.

"It's
them,
" he whispered.

"You can send them away." Teagan tried to sound positive. "Sing the song Mamieo taught you." The shadow men were growing more solid, more visible.

Aiden started to hum, and they turned their blank faces toward him.

A tall shadow, closer than the rest, leaned over Aiden. Teagan pulled her brother back as it reached out. The shadow spread its long fingers and pressed its hand against her face. It felt like feathers touching her, brushing
through
her skin and into her mind, starting to
twist.
Vomit rose in her throat. The light started to fade ... and then Aiden's voice cut through the darkness.

"
Atomriug indiu
niurt tríun
togairm Tríndóite.
"

The light came rushing back, and Teagan swallowed down the bile. The shadow man slunk back, dissolving, drifting over to join the other dark vapors in the deeper shadows.

Lichens spread across bare rock as Aiden sang, their tiny flowers the only color in the landscape. Toadstools sprang up around the path as he walked, adding their red caps to the lichens' celebration. Even here, Mag Mell was trying to rejoice when Aiden sang.

"...
cretim treodatad
foisitin oendatad
i nDúilemon dáil...
"

Suddenly, the lichen bloom rusted, and the toadstools melted into rot. Life was losing whatever battle it fought here. A wail of terrible grief filled the air around them.

"What was that?" Aiden whispered. Shadows that had been drifting away turned toward them again.

"Sing," Teagan said. "You have to keep singing, Aiden." The shadow men were moving faster now.

Aiden squeaked, then put his hands over his eyes. "Monsters can't see me, monsters can't see me," he chanted, then started to sing again.

"It's working, boyo," Finn said, putting his hand on Aiden's shoulder and guiding him down the path. "You're doing it. Keep walking."

The weeping continued around them, and the shadows lined the path, but none reached out to touch them.

Aiden sang them through the dead forest, until the shadow men sank back into the ground, but the sobbing increased as Aiden's last note faded. He took his hands off his eyes and spun around.

"Who's crying?" he shouted. "I wasn't singing a sad song!"

"It's Mag Mell herself," Finn said. "Weeping for her children."

"It's making my heart hurt."

"Mine, too," Finn said. "But you've got to keep singing, boyo. You're the only one who can get us through."

"I know," Aiden said wearily.

Mag Mell's sobs turned to sighs as the trees ended at the foot of a tall hill. The ruins of a castle sat atop it like a crumbling crown.

"I can't sing anymore," Aiden said. "My voice is too dry."

"That's okay," Teagan said. "You did a good job."

"I know," Aiden said, clearly feeling more cocky. "I can beat any bad guy here. That's how awesome I am."

They climbed up to the base of the old castle wall.

"Listen!" Teagan said. It was her dad's voice. He was telling a story, as if he had a room full of preschoolers listening to him.

They ran, following the voice until they found an opening where a gate had rotted away. They scrambled through into what had once been a garden.

"Dad!" Aiden shouted.

Mr. Wylltson was sitting on a rock. His eyes were red, and his lips were dry and cracked. Aiden threw his arms around his father's neck, but Mr. Wylltson didn't seem to see or hear him.

"Dad?" Aiden shook him, but Mr. Wylltson just went on telling his story, to nobody at all.

WHAT'S wrong with him, Tea?" Aiden asked.

"I don't know." Teagan waved her hand in front of her father's face. He didn't respond. His clothes were filthy, but she couldn't see any blood or signs of injury ... at least, no physical injury.

She took his hand. He let her lift it, offering no resistance at all. His skin was papery and dry. She pinched up a fold on the back of his hand. It stood up in a ridge even after she had let go.

"He's dehydrated, for one thing."

"What do we do?" Aiden asked.

Teagan rubbed her temples. She had no idea. She had no idea how to fight spells or magic....

"Try singing, Aiden."

Aiden took the hand Teagan had been holding and sang very softly, first the lullabies that his father had sung to him as a baby, and then the songs that Mag Mell loved. Mr. Wylltson never even shifted his eyes toward Aiden. He just spilled his story words into the air.

Teagan leaned down. "DAD!" she shouted. "It's time to go home!" His face turned ever so slightly toward her.

"Tyger," he whispered.

"Dad?"

His eyes focused on ... no, not on her. He wasn't looking
at
her, he was looking
into
her. His voice grew stronger.

"Tyger! Tyger!
burning bright,
In the
forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
"

"I don't like that one, Dad!" Aiden covered his ears. "It's about a scary thing!" Mr. Wylltson never looked away from Teagan.

"I
n
what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire in thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
"

It was mesmerizing, as if the words were resonating in the marrow of her bones. Teagan forced herself to breathe, to move away from his gaze. His words trailed off, then wandered into nonsense poems and nursery rhymes.

"He's warning us." Finn looked around the barren garden.

"I ... I'm not sure. Maybe." She wasn't sure what had just happened, but she knew she didn't have time to figure it out right now. She'd sort it out when everyone was safe. "We need to get some water into him. Does anybody have any left?"

Finn had a little. He tipped Mr. Wylltson's head back while Teagan poured the water in, a trickle at a time. Mr. Wylltson made a gargling sound as the water going down met the words coming up, but he swallowed.

"He needs more than that," Finn said.

"There's good water through that gate."

Teagan spun, looking for the speaker. It was a raven chained in a thorn tree. Its wings were stretched wide.

"I said"—the raven stopped, beak open to pant, then went on—"there's water through that gate. But take it for yourselves and leave this place. It would be kinder to let your father die." The raven's head drooped. "Please, God, let us both die soon."

"It's a shape shifter," Finn said, walking closer to the thorn tree. "I've heard of shifting into dogs, elk, wolves, or something in between, but a ratty black bird? Sucks to be you, my man."

"I know," the raven gasped.

"It's hurt." Teagan moved close enough to see that the thorns were not just holding the raven in place—they stabbed through its feathers, clearly piercing the flesh beneath. A fly buzzed around one of the sticky wounds, and Teagan brushed it away.

"What's wrong with my dad? Why would it be kinder to let him die?"

"Fear Doirich tore a hole in him. He is emptying your father out, stealing his soul, everything he holds dear, one word at a time. I'm afraid he will last a few days longer." The raven paused, panting again. "But I am almost done. Almost done."

"You need water, too, don't you?" Teagan asked.

"I drink when it rains," the raven said.

Finn kicked at the dusty soil. "Been a while, then, hasn't it?"

"Yes," the bird said simply.

"The water's through that gate, then?" Finn studied the garden again. Aiden was holding his father's hand, and aside from Mr. Wylltson's words, everything was still. "Is it far?"

"Not far. There's a spring-fed fountain in the old courtyard." The raven's head flopped down, and its beady eyes closed.

"We've got to fill our water bottles anyway," Finn said to Teagan. "Don't go anywhere until I get back."

He gathered up the bottles while Teagan worked her way between the thorny branches until she could reach the raven. It was still breathing, even if its head did flop limply to one side.

The golden chain looked thinner than a light necklace. She took it in both hands, trying not to move the bird, and pulled. The raven's head shot up, and it gasped in pain.

"Please," it said. "Please, no. I'm the only one who can break it."

Teagan stepped back. "If you can break the chain, why don't you?"

"It's a promise," the raven said. "Fear pulled it out of my body link by link, and wrapped it around me so that I would feel the pain of it every day. The longest thorn bites my heart now. I can feel its tooth with every beat, but the promise is unbroken. At last, at last it is finished." The raven's body spasmed as it gasped for air again, then it turned a beady eye to Teagan.

"Your father spoke of your mother at first, of how he loved her, how she died. Fear Doirich liked that. He sat on that stone bench and listened, licking up the words, loving the pain. But your father figured it out. He stopped spilling his life and started telling stories. When those are done, when they run out, his memories will pour out. And when the last one leaves ... he will be nothing."

"Tea." The fear in Aiden's voice made Teagan look up.

"God help us," the raven said. "It's him."

A man was walking toward her across the garden. He looked like a wizard, a prince, a movie star. A god. He was the most beautiful creature Teagan had ever seen, every movement, every feature perfect, and perfectly cruel. He had a scepter in his hand with a golden globe on the end that matched the thin golden circlet on his brow.

Kyle was beside him. He tossed back his hair and flashed his Abercrombie smile.

"Welcome to the nightmare, little cousin," Kyle said. "Where's your filthy Fir Bolg boyfriend?"