Firestorm
Page 17
The air on the beach before Queen Elenaril coalesced into thick black smoke, pulling in on itself and forming a monstrously large shape with huge bat wings—the demon Sudden Bloodletter!
Fear caught Angie’s breath in her throat, and the world froze. Then Queen Elenaril moved, casting a spell at the demon. The air between her and the demon exploded with a burst of prismatic colors as a rainbow washed over the winged monster. The spell did nothing, and the demon surged forward. To their credit, her Phoenix Guard warriors didn’t hesitate before attacking with their spears. The demon spun like a top, its bat wings buffeting the warriors, beheading one of them and throwing the others down. Cries of horror rose from the elves in the canoes as the demon ripped into the surviving bodyguard, tearing them to pieces. As the last warrior fell, the queen surged forward, attacking the demon with her sword.
"Elenaril, no!" Ephix screamed.
The demon and queen battled on the shore. The demon lashed at the elven queen with its talons, but Elenaril's shade created glowing red shields to protect her, and sparks fell about her as they fought. Elenaril cut at the demon with her sword, but the weapon only bounced back from the demon's hide. The demon towered over the elven queen, its powerful arms lashing out at her again and again. Sparks fell around Elenaril like rain. Then: disaster. One of the demon's attacks broke through the queen’s weakening shield and sent her falling back to the sand. The elves cried out in terror, and several threw themselves over the sides of their canoes to swim back. The demon advanced on Queen Elenaril.
Angie screamed and tried to cast a Shockwave spell, but she no longer had the mana.
The demon hammered at the fallen queen, ripping and tearing at her. Blood sprayed in the air. The demon rose, holding aloft the severed head of Queen Elenaril Cloudborn. The elves wailed, and a part of Angie's soul died.
"Through the portal!" Ephix screamed, a note of fear in her voice that did more to terrify Angie than anything else. The canoes surged away from the shore, propelled by the powerful trolls.
Angie, looking back over her shoulder, saw the demon staring right at her. She shivered. The demon dropped Elenaril's head and strode into the surf, its wings expanding to either side in preparation for flight. If it landed on her canoe, it would shatter it. Those elves who still carried firearms opened fire, but the bullets did no more than Elenaril's sword had.
The demon launched itself into the air.
Angie was so focused on the demon that she didn't notice her canoe had already passed through the shimmering portal, joining the others. Ephix's canoe came last, with Ephix still holding aloft her talisman. The demon roared as it flew right at Angie, but Ephix must have ended her spell, because the portal blurred and the ferry landing disappeared, and with it the demon.
Angie stared about herself, her breathing wild. The sky was red, and a far-too-large moon shone down on her, illuminating the waters of the channel and the other canoes. The landscape looked nearly identical, but there were no ruins, no fire, no city skyline. The air was clean.
She was in the Hollows again.
Lodin’s Realm.
Chapter 21
Angie sat in stunned silence, her throat thick with sorrow as the strange trolls rowed the flotilla across the channel and toward the distant shore. Silence hung heavy over the elves. While they had escaped the battle, the loss of their beloved queen had shattered them, and they sat with heads lowered, overcome by emotion and exhaustion. The only blessing was that Prince Kilyn was still unconscious, and it was a mercy that he hadn't seen his mother's death as Angie had witnessed Char's.
Twice now the demon Sudden Bloodletter had come for them. Twice now, she had been unable to stop it. If she faced it a third time, she was certain she'd die.
Even in the Hollows, the sun rose, and as it did, it turned the red night sky a much lighter shade of pink, giving the landscape an otherworldly appearance. The northern shoreline mimicked the southern California ecology, but it wasn’t her world. Humans had never lived here. Where the ruins of San Diego should be, there was only rugged shrubland and rolling hills with sparse pine thickets. Birds cried overhead, and the air was so clean and sharp it almost hurt her lungs. Despite their sorrow, the elves stared about themselves. The first time Angie had traveled to this realm, Ephix had explained that the Hollows was the true realm of the Fey and that they had been able to cross between worlds with ease. That had changed when the great dragons broke the Fey Sleep and awakened humanity to the magic around them. The resulting magical backlash had cast most of the Fey from the Hollows, stranding them in a world hostile to them. Do they miss their home? Angie wondered.
But this realm was also the home of Lord Lodin, the master of the Fey Hunt, a legendary Fey warlord. The last time she had been here, Lodin himself had pursued them, almost catching them. She didn't understand, but Lodin had been drawn to her. She had even seen him—a tall rider wearing gleaming silver plate-mail armor with a full-face helmet adorned with deer antlers, holding aloft a magical spear, the metal spearhead glowing with arcane energy. The moment she had set eyes upon him, she had been struck dumb. There had been something about the Fey lord, a connection with him not unlike the dragon-mark she shared with Tec. And it had been Tec who had saved her, carrying her back through the portal. If not for him...
But what was it she had felt between herself and Lodin?
And why had he been after her?
Once, she had believed the Hollows and Lord Lodin nothing more than Fey legends, myths to frighten humans. The Fey loved to tell tales, and half of them were just that, myths. One of the Fey legends claimed that war would come to anyone who set eyes on Lord Lodin or his Fey Hunt.
That had been true enough, she realized sadly.
"Ephix," she called out over the water. Ephix's canoe was about twenty meters ahead, moving steadily through the waves, and the lamia turned to meet Angie’s eyes. "We can't be here. It's too dangerous." And it was. The last time, Lodin had found them within minutes of their arrival, somehow sensing their presence and hunting them with his pack of eight-legged wolflike barghests.
"I cannot open another portal, Angela," Ephix yelled back. "Not if there's any chance Sudden Bloodletter remains nearby. The demon can easily fly across the channel, and I cannot defeat such a foe. I learned my lesson with his brother Gouger of Faces."
"Ephix is right," Tec yelled from his own canoe. "Sudden Bloodletter was always the stronger of the two."
"But Lodin..." Angie's gaze swept the far shoreline. Any moment now, she expected to hear the horns of Lodin's hunt, the barking of his barghests.
"A chance we must take," Ephix answered. "I will open another portal, but not until we reach our destination."
"But the sun is up now," Angie said.
"A demon is not a vampire, Angela. The rise and fall of the sun makes no difference. If the demon remains close, it will pick up our trail the moment we reappear."
"Where then?"
"There is a troll village along the shore, not far. They are friendly to me, remembering my sister and me from before the Awakening."
Before the Awakening? It was hard to imagine, but Char must have had a life here back when she could slip between realms. Angie sat back in the canoe, examining the large trolls who rowed it. While they looked much like the trolls who had lived in the Fresno Enclave—with the same thick green skin, powerful frames, and inch-long tusks protruding up from their oversize jaws—they dressed differently. And the Fresno trolls didn't scar their skin in ritualistic patterns.
Ephix must have noticed Angie's interest, because she called out, "Not all who live in this realm love Lord Lodin. These are Binyakka trolls, from the Moss Mountain Confederation, and they have long suffered under Lodin's rule." Ephix pointed at one of the trolls in her own canoe. "This is Garaka Dun, their leader. He speaks no English."
The large troll must have recognized his name, because he nodded in greeting at Angie before resuming his steady rowing, his attention on the northern shoreline once more.
"And we're going to his village?"
"Yes. Once there, I will open another portal. We will come out south of the ruins of Los Angeles and then move across country. Your old friend First Councilor Duncan Marshal has offered Elenaril's people passage through his territory to the Fresno Enclave."
From her tone, it sounded as though Ephix believed it was the very least Marshal could have done, but Angie knew he was taking a hell of a chance. Humans distrusted the Fey, blaming them for the Awakening and the breaking of the world. Most would have preferred to shoot the elven refugees on sight. Heaviness settled in her core as she thought about traveling through the Commonwealth. Whatever safe passage Marshal might have offered the elves wouldn't be extended to Angie. As far as Marshal was concerned, she was the traitor who had attacked the Home Guard's Bunker, murdered its commanding officer, and destroyed Marshal’s precious fleet of Shrike helicopters. Once, Duncan Marshal had been like a father to her. Now, he'd hang her.
One worry at a time, Angie. First you need to escape the Hollows. She sighed. Everyone wanted her dead these days: Sudden Bloodletter, Lodin, Marshal, Rayan Zar Davi. Her list of enemies exceeded that of her friends.
But she did have friends, good ones.
Her thoughts drifted to Erin and her brothers, and she hoped they were safe. Angie would miss Erin’s rendezvous. There was no way now to reach Mount Laguna before the week was up. Erin and her brothers would move on, into the Appalachian Mountains, to find a new home, a new life. She wished them well. She and Erin hadn't been close when they had served together in the Home Guard, but much had changed over the last month, and now she thought of the tall red-haired woman as a sister. She missed Erin, surprised at the depths of her friendship. Her gaze drifted to Tec, who was watching the northern shoreline, and she wondered at the strange dragon-bond that tied them to one another, stronger even than her friendship with Erin. She stared at her left palm, at the tear-shaped mark. It was cold, lifeless, as it had been since Quetzalcoatl’s death.
The shoreline sped past as the flotilla moved west and then turned south, following the peninsula. The cliffs rose on their right, sheltering the bay and Coronado Island—or at least what would have been Coronado Island in her realm. She considered the island. Dense woods covered it, none of it burning. At least they had escaped the fire.
And the demon.
As the flotilla rounded the southern tip of the peninsula and moved out into the open ocean, the waves became stronger, threatening to lash the canoes against the rocks. Now the trolls began to paddle harder, putting more effort into their task. Ephix raised her voice, yelling over the waters. "Hang on, Angela. Garaka Dun says the waves will settle once we're past the cliffs."
Angie, gripping the sides of the lurching canoe, could only nod. Her stomach was heaving, and she fought to hold its contents in. If she went into the water…
Time lost meaning as the waves hammered them. The trolls paddled relentlessly, keeping the flotilla away from the cliffs before moving north along what should have been the southern California coastline.
But just as Ephix had promised, as the flotilla moved north, away from the cliffs, the waters calmed. Within an hour, the waves were much less turbulent, and the canoes sped along the grassy shoreline, the voyage now oddly relaxing. Angie sat back and watched the rolling hills of the coast speed past. Prince Kilyn was awake now, his face pale with grief, his expression locked stoically on the shoreline. Her heart went out to him.
She tried to remember her real mother, but it was hard to picture anything about her. Angie had been very young when her parents and older brother had died. Sometimes she dreamed of her, and in those dreams, she could remember her face. Just for a moment, she had a fleeting image of a smiling young woman with dark hair, but the harder she tried to focus on that memory, the more her mother's face blurred and drifted away. Frustration coursed through Angie, making her feel stupid and useless, unworthy of even having a mother if she couldn't remember what she looked like. Sometimes life was too unfair.
Thick pine forest lined the shoreline, the view breathtaking. They must be miles from Coronado Island now. Then she saw a village ahead, nestled among the trees, dozens of wooden homes with thatched roofs. A series of wooden piers extended out into the ocean. As they came closer, Angie saw hundreds of trolls, mostly women and children, standing in a crowd, watching the flotilla approach. Her relief surged. Not only could she soon stand on solid ground once more, but they'd also be able to go back to her own world.
As their boats approached the pier, she examined the faces of the waiting trolls. Only the men scarred their bodies, not the women or children, but they all wore the same style of furs and hides. None of the trolls called out in greeting. Nor did they look particularly happy. They might have been statues. Not much of a welcome. Maybe they’re afraid we'll get them in trouble with Lodin.
It was a reasonable fear. The last time she had been in the Hollows, he had come after her almost within minutes of her arrival, sensing her somehow.
The trolls rowed closer to the wooden piers. Fish hung from long wooden stacks over smoldering coals. The air smelled of salt, smoke, and fish. The leader of the trolls, Garaka Dun, called out to the waiting crowd, and a tall troll woman answered him, waving in greeting. Angie relaxed. Even in Fresno, the trolls had been standoffish, preferring their own company to that of the other Fey.
The first of the canoes reached a pier, scraping alongside the wood as the trolls jumped out and tied it to a rung. Ephix dismounted, landing lightly upon the wooden dock and looking about herself. She held her rose talisman against her chest, clearly ready to open another portal as soon as possible.
The other canoes reached the other piers, and the trolls secured them as the elves began to disembark, but the moment her canoe scraped against the pier, everything fell apart.
Strange Fey in dark armor burst out of the wooden huts, rushing at the disembarking elves and screaming war cries, brandishing gleaming spears and axes. A wail of anguish rose from the trolls, and the crowd scattered, fleeing in all directions.
"Ambush!" Tec yelled, leaping onto the pier with his machete in hand.
Ephix roared, turning into her beast form and launching herself at the closest of the armored foes, scattering a half dozen of them.
Then forms burst out of the water beside Angie's canoe from where they had been hiding beneath the waves. Webbed hands gripped her and hauled her into the ice-cold waters. She had a momentary glimpse of fishlike faces with huge saucerlike eyes, green scaly skin, and gills before she was dragged underwater. She thrashed, swallowing water, her vision blurring as her panic swelled. I'm drowning, she thought as the strange fish people carried her deeper underwater.
Her vision went dark.
Chapter 22
Angie woke by degrees in a warm, soft bed, covered by thick fur blankets. She was finally getting the sleep her body craved, and it was wonderful, blissful. When the memory of the ambush—and being pulled into the water—swept through her, fear galvanized her, and she bolted upright, her heart pounding.
She had been drowning!
The furs fell from her naked body, and she snatched at them, pulling them against her chest. She was in a large stone chamber, the walls built from blocks of perfectly fit dark stone. The only light came from a brass candelabra on a stand next to the bed, its flames dancing. The bed was a massive canopy bed that could have slept four. Its elaborately carved posts held aloft a ceiling of decorative fabric hand-stitched to illustrate a night sky. She had never seen anything like it but suspected few ever had. Beautiful hand-carved wooden dressers, small tables, and a massive armoire sat about the chamber. Thick red curtains were opened on either side of a narrow window slit, through which she saw a red sky.
I'm still in the Hollows. But how did I get here, and where is here?
&nb
sp; And where the fuck are my clothes?
There was only one door, a single wooden one banded by strips of black iron, and just as Angie stared at it, it cracked open. Angie pulled the furs tighter to her chest as a woman slipped into the chamber—No, not just a woman, she realized a moment later, a Fey. The Fey woman had long chestnut hair and brown eyes as large as small apples. Like Angie, she wore no clothing, but a thick coat of sleek fur covered her from her waist down, growing over legs that were bent backward like a goat's and tipped in hooves. From the waist up, her skin was deep brown, like polished wood. Her breasts were small, the nipples almost black. The skin around her forehead was hardened and ridged, resembling bark. Ram horns, at least two feet long, extended from her wide forehead and curled back so that the points faced behind her. Her ears were wide and triangular, like a deer’s, and rotated on their own, now pointing at Angie. Her only garment was a necklace of small blue and red feathers. She was pretty, if strange, and smiled brightly at Angie with large white teeth. Her huge brown eyes shined with glee as she practically danced into the room, her hooves clumping on the stone floor. Like most Fey, her age was indistinguishable. She could have been twenty or two hundred. She’s a satyr. They were said to be notoriously shy. They were also supposed to possess powerful nature magic.
"Hello sleepy-sleepy. You had me so worried," the satyr said in a high-pitched voice that vibrated. "He's been waiting for you, and he doesn't like to wait. He never likes to wait. Once, a spiderkynn delegate made him wait, and he was so angry, he ripped two of his legs loose, pulled them right off. You should have seen the spiderkynn spinning about on only six legs, blue blood splashing everywhere." The satyr's smile vanished, replaced by fear. "I shouldn't like it if he ripped my legs loose." At that, she hopped in place, prancing like a pony.
"I ... who ..."
"Who?" she asked in surprise, her already large eyes widening even more. "Maeve, that's who." The satyr placed her palm against her own chest. "I'm Maeve." Then, before Angie could react, she pulled the furs away from Angie and placed her palm against Angie's chest, just over her heart. "And you're Angela Ritter." The satyr's palm was warm against her skin, and Angie forced herself to remain still or risk offending her. "Now we're well met, Angela Ritter." The satyr smiled as she slipped back, removing her hand. "Hurry, though. He'll be waiting, and he doesn't like to wait. Not that he'll pull your legs off. No, no, no. He's been too excited about you. I think he likes your legs. Sometimes he likes mine."