by K. C. Lannon
“Are you hurt?” Iain asked her.
Deirdre forced a smile poorly, dusting her skirt off with trembling hands. “I’m all right.”
“You’re okay,” Iain insisted. Deirdre just stared blankly at him. “You did very well, Deirdre. That was all right.”
“Oh…” Deirdre blinked, clearly confused. “Was it?”
“Well I’m not all right!” Alvey’s indignant cry overwhelmed anything Iain might’ve said in response. “Why did you decide to make the ground collapse under us? As a full-blooded faery, you’re more hardy than most, but you could have easily broken our necks or my chair.”
“She can’t control it!” James protested.
Alvey scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. “Seelie faeries do not completely lose control of their magic! ’Tis innate within them.”
“Well, maybe,” James ground out, obviously trying to keep his voice even, “you don’t know as much as you think you do.”
“Aye, you certainly would know far more about magic than I do, Jay.”
“It’s James!”
Alvey pointedly ignored him and began maneuvering her way around in the cavern. “Methinks the dwarf is”—she paused, taking an alarmingly loud sniff of the air—“presently in this direction. We should venture forth.”
Iain held out his hand expectantly to James. “Where’s my stuff?” he asked. “Did you leave my skillet at the camp—?”
“Of course I didn’t!” James shrugged off Iain’s pack from his back, then retrieved his own pack from inside it where he’d stuffed it. He practically threw it into Iain’s chest.
Iain felt his face heat with a sudden anger. “What were you thinking?” he demanded. “How could you be so careless?”
“Me?” James gawked at him. “I didn’t do this!”
“Just look at your face—”
“I can’t, genius. Uh, we’re in a dark cave, in case you didn’t notice.”
Iain seethed, looking away from him and shaking his head. Words failed him for a moment as he tried to process through the disbelief. “Not only did you endanger your life, but you endangered Deirdre’s as well.”
James had always been one to come up with ridiculous plans in the past, but none of them had ever put anyone in harm’s way except himself, before now. He could not believe that his brother had almost gotten them both killed.
“I can’t listen to this from you. I really can’t—” James broke off with a mirthless laugh. “I could have gotten us out just fine. If I’d had more time, it would have worked perfectly.”
“I told you to stay at the camp.”
“Well, maybe I knew better than you did.”
If I weren’t worried that he has a concussion, I’d smack him!
Before Iain could say anything else, James flipped on the torch he’d brought, pushed past Iain, and shone the light of it on the ground so they could see where they were going.
Commander Walker opted to let Alvey lead with Deirdre pushing her chair along so the dwarf would see them first. Iain walked behind James—his little brother got through the low passages smoothly and occasionally shot him a smug look every few feet when Iain had to duck to avoid hitting his head.
“What, um, do you know about—about the dwarf?” James asked the commander hesitantly after a minute.
“He’s a nasty blighter to humans, that’s all I know,” he replied tiredly. “And I can’t understand a word he was saying, but I doubt it was polite.”
James grinned and began flipping through his notebook, searching for something. “Why do you think it’s living down here anyway? And why won’t it let anyone get close? I’ve read that most dwarves are quite friendly—”
“It does not matter,” the commander said firmly. “It’s guarding a hoard, and whatever it is guarding belongs to the British government. It is not for any civilians to know about either.”
James looked as if he wanted to argue but obviously thought better of it and settled on glowering instead. He walked along ahead, leaving Iain and Commander Walker behind, and began yammering on to Deirdre about what kind of dwarf they might encounter.
The commander looked worn out and weakened and definitely not in the mood to talk, Iain noticed, but that did not stop him from initiating a conversation. “Commander Walker, sir,” Iain said in one breath. “Deirdre—she’s innocent. She has an alibi that places her out of the city before the attack took place. I have reason to believe she was framed.”
“Hmm.” Commander Walker grunted in response.
Iain was not deterred, used to having one-sided conversations with his father. “I have reason to believe that she was framed by someone from inside the Iron Guard. Philip Prance, my commanding officer, mentioned this to me before he died.”
“Prance, huh? Boyd’s brother, the Iron Warden?”
“Yes, Commander.” Iain steeled himself, taking a deep breath of the cool, damp cave air. “He didn’t have proof, exactly, but he had suspicions that Boyd was working under orders of his superiors to frame Deirdre for the attack at the memorial. My brother was with Deirdre during the time of the attack.”
Iain waited, barely breathing, for the commander to respond to him. The silence seemed tangible. The cave air felt too close.
“Boyd Prance is indeed a loose cannon, and he will be dealt with properly once we return to Neo-London and I report his treason,” Walker conceded. “However, I strongly recommend you forget everything else you mentioned.”
Iain gawked for a moment, unsure if he’d heard correctly. “Commander, you could mention this to General Windsor, just to look into it—”
“Listen, boy,” Commander Walker said sharply, “I’m here to complete a mission given to me by King Edgar himself—God rest his soul. The country is in mourning, and the last thing they need to hear is some conspiracy theory about the Iron Guard. Lord knows we’ve got enough to deal with, with the Winter Court sending more beasts to our walls.”
Iain’s nervousness vanished. “It’s not a conspiracy, commander,” he insisted staunchly. “You need to look into this—”
“The Iron Guard is stretched thin these days. We’re on the brink of war with the Winter Court, and it doesn’t seem to matter anymore whether a faery is Seelie or Unseelie, they both unite against us.” Walker shook his head. “We have enough to deal with without squabbles like what happened today, and without Iron Warden grunts, who haven’t seen a lick of real warfare, accusing their superiors of treason without a scrap of evidence.”
Iain had nearly forgotten what righteous indignation felt like; he felt the fire within him stir for the first time in a while. “Commander, Deirdre is a good person. She’s a faery, yes, but she’s also a teenager. She’s as much of a person as you and I. She has no ties to the Courts, and she’s got nothing to do with the war or any of it. She’ll tell you that.”
“I will not take the word of a faery over that of my superiors. No sane man would. And you can bet no one will take the word of a low-ranking soldier like you seriously either.” Commander Walker winced, tightening his grip on his arm wound. “You won’t say a word of this to anyone. That’s an order.”
“Deirdre is a citizen of this country like anyone else. She’s a civilian, and it’s the mission of the Iron Guard to protect her and people like her. With respect, Commander, you are not doing your job.”
“The Iron Guard was created in the wake of the Cataclysm,” Walker said flatly. “It was not created with faeries’ rights or safety in mind. And now we’re on the brink of another Cataclysm.”
James was right… no one would listen.
But I’ve still got to try. I’ve got to do something. If the Iron Guard won’t solve this, then I’ve got to try. I just don’t know how yet.
Philip would have been able to do something… or maybe the Iron Guard wouldn’t have listened to him either. Maybe the Iron Guard wasn’t what he’d thought it was as a kid. Maybe it had never been like that at all.
Commander Walker brushe
d past him, clearly done with their conversation.
Iain set his jaw, his mind working furiously. As he began to walk again, he saw Deirdre was waiting just ahead and chewing on her lip. Iain felt his chest tighten. His heart balked at the thought of facing her for some reason, but he approached her anyway.
It was dark, but James’s flashlight was not too far away, and he could still see faint outlines.
“Iain.” Deirdre twisted a finger through her curly hair. “I shouldn’t have let James go through with that plan. But, I… I thought he knew what he was doing. And you and Alvey seemed to be in trouble, so…”
Iain felt himself relax. He exhaled softly, smiling faintly. “You got James away from Boyd. That’s what’s important.”
“I know, but”—she sighed—“I didn’t listen, and I didn’t stay at the camp, and now everything’s messed up, and we almost got shot, and… earlier, I really thought you were going to turn me in.”
Iain nodded, his throat constricting. He wanted to think that he didn’t care what she thought of him—but he did care. It mattered to him a lot. She was good and kind, and if someone like that could believe in him… then maybe he could still be someone. If she could see good in him, then it wouldn’t matter what Boyd or Elaine had seen.
“I overheard what you said to that commander guy,” Deirdre admitted. Then she smiled brightly. “Thank you for that.”
“It didn’t really help.”
“I know, but… I’m sorry I doubted you.”
Iain’s shoulders lightened. He looked at her seriously, starting to walk again, leading them both to the torch light ahead. “I didn’t give you much reason to trust me,” he said. “And I… I doubted you. I overreacted about your magic, and the way I treated you for it was unacceptable, and I apologize.”
“I forgive you.” She said it so simply, like it was no big deal, like forgiveness came easily and was freely given. She said it like she had no idea how rare a gesture it was or how badly he needed to hear it.
Iain was stunned into silence. He mulled her words over, grateful for them.
“And anyway,” Deirdre went on, “I think my magic is dangerous too, so…”
“You just don’t know its purpose yet,” Iain insisted. “But what you did, defending James, was amazing. Maybe you’re meant to save people.”
Deirdre sighed shakily. “Oh, I don’t know about that…”
“You’ll figure it out, Deirdre. Once we reach the Summer Court, once you find your parents, you’ll find its purpose.”
She did not respond, seeming to be lost in thought. When she looked up at him again, her expression was concerned. “James… he mentioned the faery fruit.”
Iain’s stomach turned. “I’m not…” He trailed off.
He had no idea what to say, how to explain it to her. He wanted to say that he wasn’t like that anymore, that he had been a stupid, naïve kid when Pan had almost taken his life. But… he didn’t know if that was true. He had almost fallen back into that world again so easily.
“You’re not eating faery fruit, are you?” she asked. “Because if you are… it’s not good for you, and you should stop. And it doesn’t seem like something you would do, is all.”
That stunned him again—her concern. “I’m not,” he finally said. “I did before—but I don’t want to do it ever again. I don’t want to be like that anymore.”
Deirdre grinned widely. “Okay. Good.”
Iain let out a shaky breath.
“There was something else I wanted to say…,” she mused, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “Oh drat”—she snapped her fingers—“I’ll probably remember it later if it was important.”
Iain smiled to himself, calming down again, thinking that talking to her was all right and that James had pretty good instincts when it came to choosing his friends.
Once they reached the others, Deirdre began looking up at the ceiling frequently like she thought it might cave in on them. Then she complained about being too warm.
Iain supposed it was a little warm. Reaching up, he pulled his beret from his head, letting his hair fall free and combing his fingers through the waves. His hair was damp with sweat. He nearly put his beret back in his bag—
He stopped, running his thumb over the horseshoe insignia patch on the front. Then he pulled it off and tossed it carelessly over his shoulder, leaving it behind on the floor of the cave. He had no use for it anymore.
“The dwarf shall be helpful, I am certain of it. I have met dwarves before,” Alvey said brightly. “I, however, am the only one who will be able to communicate with him, so—”
“Look at this!” James practically shouted to be heard over Alvey’s chatter. He crouched down and picked something up from off the ground, holding it up to his torchlight. “It’s a bone!” he said excitedly.
Iain refrained from commenting that his brother ought to socialize more or find a hobby that didn’t involve being an egghead.
“There’s more of them.” Deirdre pointed ahead of them. “They’re all over the place.”
James turned it around in his hand, squinting at it. “It’s big. But it’s not big enough to be from livestock or anything. I wonder—”
“Give it to me.” Alvey held out her hand demandingly. “I can probably tell what it came from by touching it.”
“I can figure it out myself just fine,” James said, looking offended. “Besides, I found it.”
As James and Alvey bickered for a minute, Iain remembered that he could roll his eyes all he wanted in the dark without anyone seeing him, so he took advantage of the situation.
“Wait a minute,” James said after a while of examining the other bones on the floor, his voice pitching. “This is a human bone. These are all human bones.” He dropped it to the ground, wiping his hands on the front of his sweater, swearing.
Iain inhaled sharply as James’s flashlight beam danced across the cavern floor, illuminating the pile of bones ahead. Hollow skull eyes flashed darkly from the torch’s light.
Alvey stopped pushing her chair at once, causing Deirdre to bump into her; the small girl hissed. “Be quiet, all of you. And douse that light!”
“Why?” James asked. “What does this mean?”
“It means the dwarf has gone rotten!”
Just before James’s torch shut off, Iain caught a glimpse of something pale creeping around the corner. It was too quick to see for certain what it was. It was white as a corpse, thin and spindly as a spider, moving just as quickly as one.
“Oh!” Alvey gasped, her voice muffled as she covered her nose and mouth with her hand. “I can smell him! It’s too late!”
A deep, croaking moan erupted from the cavern, reverberating off the walls. With it, words followed in a language Iain did not understand but knew to be Welsh.
He heard Alvey frantically tell Deirdre to pull her chair back the way she’d come.
The voice came again, ringing through the darkness, disembodied, this time in clear English: “That smell… it’s been so very long… such a long time since I’ve tasted it. The blood of men. I know you’re there… I saw you before your flame flickered out.”
Iain bent over and felt along the ground for something sharp. He picked up a heavy rock, testing the weight of it in his hand. “James,” he whispered, “turn your light back on.”
He heard James’s shallow breathing in the darkness. The torch shook in James’s hand as he flipped the light back. After a moment, James steadied himself and his hand. They stared, unable to look away from the sight before them.
“Aaah… one of them is bleeding. It catches in the air, like copper, like iron. But wait… there’s more of them. One with blood down his face. Won’t notice if I pick him off, if I drink him dry—such a little human, methinks.”
Iain’s stomach turned.
The pale spider returned, only it wasn’t a spider; it was a gnarled hand with long, hooked fingers that grasped at the cavern wall, attached to an arm with sagging, white skin so
translucent the veins shone through. A large face peered around the corner—milky eyes, a scraggly beard matted with dirt.
The dwarf stepped out into the tunnel. He was tall, just a bit taller than Iain, and he looked more like a troll than a jolly dwarf like in the children’s stories Mum used to read.
The dwarf looked to Deirdre first, his mouth twisting into a smile that revealed several rows of small, sharp teeth. “Hmm… it’s been too long since I’ve had guests… interesting that a faery like you would keep human company.” He looked to the others. “I see you have goodies for me. What have you brought for my collection? Empty your bags and let me have a look-see.”
“Step back,” Commander Walker said, raising his firearm. “This cave belongs to the Iron Guard now.”
The dwarf smiled still. “You’re the bleeder. Not much left in you. Shame. But a dead soldier is a good soldier.”
Iain’s blood turned cold. He wouldn’t let a creature, a monster like this, kill again. None of them would die like Philip.
Eyeing the firearm in Commander Walker’s hand, Iain wondered if shooting at the dwarf would distract it enough for them to get by. But he remembered the commander saying the bullets hadn’t worked before when the Iron Guard had tried to enter the cave. Plus, looking around at the group gathered in the tight cavern, he knew the risk of a bullet fragment ricocheting off of the stone was too great. He had to think. He had to trust his judgment, go with his gut. His gut was telling him that the dwarf would not let them live no matter what they did but that it could be distracted.
Everybody wants something, even creatures, Iain thought to himself. It wants something besides us dead. That’s good. I can work with that.
“You see what we’ve got, take what you want, and then you let us pass?” Iain asked, stepping forward and willing himself not let his fear show.
“Yes, yes. Of course.” The dwarf stepped fully into the light of James’s torch, revealing his pale and bloated body dressed in ragged, filthy clothing. In one hand, he brandished a dagger that was broken off at a sharp point and covered thickly in rust. Placing the dagger on the ground, he held out his hands greedily.