The Fire King

by Paul Crilley

  Emily frowned. Wasn’t that exactly what William had said about Emily back in Cavanagh’s cellar? But she’d always thought it was best to act decisive. That was what adults did, wasn’t it?

  Maybe that’s what Will was trying to do. Exactly what she had done when their parents had vanished. To act more like a grown-up.

  Emily pushed the thought away for the moment. What was taking Jack so long? The shop was making her nervous. It was filled with strange smells: spices, meat, bread, fruit. But there were other scents as well. An odd, acidic stench that was starting to hurt her nostrils. A peculiar, cloying, sickly sweet odor that stuck at the back of her throat. What did Beezle sell in here?

  The guards moved position outside, so that they were now standing directly in front of the window. Their shadows stretched across the wooden floor, their helms touching Emily’s toes.

  She moved her feet away, then stood up, planning on finding her way to the back room to see what Jack was doing.

  But a noise stopped her.

  She held her breath, every fiber of her being attuned to the sound. It was like a sheet rippling in the wind.

  Or wings. Many, many wings.

  Emily whirled around and banged into Jack, who was just coming out of the back room. He held the book triumphantly.

  “Got it. But listen, I had a glance …” He trailed off when he saw the look on Emily’s face. “What’s wrong?” he whispered.

  But Emily said nothing. The sound was growing louder, the sound of hundreds, thousands of birds. She turned slowly toward the window. The guards’ shadows were no longer there, but she could just see them standing in the middle of the bridge, staring up into the sky.

  Then they dropped to the ground and flung their arms over their heads as the white ravens dived out of the sky and swept along the bridge. It was as if a white cloud was tearing past the window. The ravens’ shadows flickered madly across the floor and walls of the shop. It felt like she and Jack were trapped in the center of an unholy storm.

  And all the while Emily could hear the click-click, click-click of their snapping beaks.

  A moment later they were gone. Emily could hear screams and surprised shouts as the ravens moved along the bridge.

  “Do you think they’re looking for us?” asked Jack.

  Emily gave Jack what he often referred to as “her look.” He raised his hands in the air. “Fine. They’re looking for us. So what do we do?”

  Emily peered through the glass door. The guards had disappeared.

  “Come on,” she said, and opened the door. She and Jack moved outside into the warm night and hurried to where Wren and Beezle were hiding on the other side of the bridge.

  “Thank goodness you’re all right,” said Wren. “What were those birds? Was that normal?”

  “No. They were looking for us.”

  “They’re looking for you?” Beezle looked worried. “Then this is where we part ways.”

  “Why are you so nervous?” asked Emily. “They don’t have anything to do with you.”

  “No, but those things are the Morrigan’s eyes. What they see, she sees.” He licked his lips nervously. “Did you get the book?”

  Jack held it up. Beezle tried to grab it, but Jack yanked it out of reach.

  “We need to talk about that,” said Jack.

  “What’s to talk about? Just give it to me.”

  “Jack?” said Emily. “What’s wrong?”

  “I had a quick look inside. This isn’t a book of shift rotas or anything like that. It’s a blackmail book. Isn’t that right?”

  “How dare you, sir! I take offense at that.”

  “It lists payments made to him by people he’s blackmailing. Plus, what it is he’s blackmailing them with. That’s why he wanted the book so badly.”

  Emily struggled to take this in. If it was true, then it meant … She turned to Beezle in dismay. “So you don’t even know where Nimue is? You just used us?”

  “No! Well, yes. I may have used you a little bit. But I do know where Nimue is.”

  “Where?”

  “Can I have my book back?”

  “No. Tell us where she is. Otherwise, we throw the book in the Thames.”

  Beezle’s face twisted with uncertainty. He looked nervously at the sky, then threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine. Nimue is part of Queen Titania’s consort. There. Are you happy now?”

  “What do you mean, her consort? Where are they?”

  “Are you dense? She’s part of the Queen’s court. She lives in Underlondon. In the tree.”

  Emily hadn’t thought it was possible to feel any more despair. She was wrong. “In the tree? The Faerie Tree?”

  “Yes, the Faerie Tree! What other tree would I be talking about?”

  Emily turned away from the others, staring blankly across the bridge. The Faerie Tree! There was no way they could gain access to that! Not without someone like Corrigan to guide them. It couldn’t be done.

  And yet, it had to be done. If they wanted to find Merlin, they had to find Nimue. And if she was in Underlondon, then that was where they had to go.

  Emily glanced back at the gate they had used to come onto the bridge. They had to get away from here. Before the ravens came back.

  But then Emily froze. Too late. As she watched, the Crimson Knight came through the gate on his charger, his massive hounds straining against their chains as they sniffed the ground. A split second later they lifted their heads to the sky and howled.

  The hounds had their scent.

  Emily whirled back to the others. “Beezle, you will get us off this bridge, and you will do it now. Otherwise, you will never see your precious book again. Is that understood?”

  Beezle stared over Emily’s shoulder. The hounds were baying wildly, straining against the knight’s grip.

  “Beezle!” Emily shouted.

  The fey jumped, then fixed his attention on the book, then on Emily. “Yes,” he snapped. “Fine.”

  “Can you get us off the bridge?” asked Jack.

  “You think I don’t have escape routes planned? What am I, an amateur? Of course I can get you off the bridge.”

  “Good. Then let’s go.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The hounds catch up. A watery grave beckons.

  Beezle didn’t wait around. He turned and ran across the street to the other side of the bridge. Emily, Jack, and Wren followed, dodging around confused fey who had seen the ravens and were milling about, wondering what was going on.

  As she reached the center of the street, Emily glanced over her shoulder and saw the Crimson Knight release the chains, the massive hounds leaping forward with bloodthirsty snarls and barks. Emily quickly pushed through the crowd and caught up with Beezle.

  “The hounds are coming!” she shouted.

  Beezle nodded, a frantic, panicked look on his face. “Follow me,” he said, and ran straight into a shop, darting around the startled shopkeeper, slipping around the counter into a back room, then pushing open a back door and darting out into a narrow alley that ran between the line of shops and the low walls of the bridge.

  Emily, Jack, and Wren followed him into the alley, Jack pulling the door shut behind him. A plate thrown by the owner of the shop smashed into the wood on the other side.

  “This way,” said Beezle, hurrying along the lane.

  Emily moved forward to keep pace with the fey. “Where are we going?”

  “To my shop. I’ve got an escape route there.”

  “Then why didn’t you use it before?” asked Jack.

  “I was caught by surprise,” said Beezle bitterly. “Didn’t have time.”

  The sound of the hounds howling in anger reached them from the other side of the shops.

  “Sounds like the wolves are too big to get through,” said Wren.

  “Don’t worry,” said Beezle. “They’ll find a way. No one escapes the Hounds of the Great Hunt when they have your scent.”

  “How do you know what the
y are?”

  “Everyone knows.” Beezle glanced at Emily and shook his head. “I don’t know what you did to get the Phantom Queen so angry, but you’d better do something to fix it if you want to last the night.”

  “Believe me, we’re working on it,” said Emily grimly.

  They arrived at the rear of Beezle’s shop. It was hard to see anything in the dim light, but Beezle seemed to know what he was looking for. He leaned over the bridge wall and felt around for a few moments before turning to them with a smile.

  “It’s still here. I was worried the guards would find it.”

  Emily stood on her tiptoes and peered over the wall. The water of the Thames roared and thundered far below, the small spaces between bridge supports causing the water to build up against the structure in a white-foamed frenzy before shooting out in a ferocious torrent on the other side. Because of this buildup, the river was actually higher on this side of the bridge than the other.

  It took her a moment, but Emily finally spotted what Beezle was talking about. A rope had been tied to the bridge wall; attached to this rope was a tiny row boat that swayed alarmingly about twenty feet above the raging waters.

  She turned to Beezle. “Please tell me you are not suggesting we use that boat. We’ll smash against the bridge!”

  “Rubbish. All we have to do is hold on. With a bit of luck we’ll be through in no time.”

  Jack and Wren both leaned over to get a look.

  “A bit of luck?” exclaimed Jack. “We’ll need more than a bit of luck to survive that!”

  “Well, here’s the thing,” said Beezle. “You won’t actually have to worry about it.”

  Jack frowned. “Why?”

  Beezle lunged forward and grabbed Emily by the arm. He yanked her around and pressed a bronze knife against her throat.

  “Because you’re not going. It’s nothing personal. I prefer my own company is all.” Beezle grinned. “That way I can make sure the conversation stays interesting. Now hand the book over.”

  “Don’t you dare, Jack,” snapped Emily.

  “I mean it! Hand it over; otherwise, I stick her.”

  Jack looked uncertainly between Emily and Beezle.

  “I think you should give it to him,” said Wren quietly.

  Jack stared at the knife, then hesitantly took the book from his coat pocket.

  “Jack. I order you not to give that book to him. He won’t do anything.”

  “Oh? And what makes you so sure, little miss?” snapped Beezle.

  “I just am. Jack, hold the book over the wall.”

  Jack licked his lips, obviously wondering what to do. “Jack!”

  Jack thrust his arm out, holding the book above the thundering waters. Emily could feel Beezle tense up. She smiled.

  “Now,” she said. “Please let me go. Otherwise, Jack drops the book and we take your boat while you stay here to face the hounds. There are three of us and only one of you.”

  Beezle didn’t move.

  “You have until I count to three. One …”

  Still he didn’t move. Emily experienced a moment of doubt. Had she been wrong? The way he had looked at the book when they had left the shop, Emily had been sure he would do anything to keep it safe. But what if she had misjudged him?

  “Two …”

  “Just give it to me!” Beezle screamed.

  “Three.”

  Even before she had finished saying the word, Beezle let go of her and stepped back. Emily hurried forward to stand next to Jack and Wren.

  “Are you insane?” he hissed. “He could have killed you.”

  “He could have. But he didn’t.”

  “That was a very dangerous gamble, Miss Snow,” said Wren sternly. “Anything could have happened.”

  Emily was about to answer, but it was at that moment that she realized it wasn’t so dark in the alley anymore. Their surroundings had a slight red tinge to them.

  A low, rumbling growl came from above them, barely heard over the sounds of the river.

  All eyes turned upward. One of the hounds was on the roof of Beezle’s shop, front paws braced against the gutters as it glared down at them with its glowing red eyes. It darted glances between them, leaving lines of red in the darkness every time it moved.

  Emily reached slowly into her jacket, fumbling with shaking hands for the sharpened branch of rowan wood Katerina had given her.

  “Nobody make any sudden movements,” whispered Jack.

  Too late. Beezle leapt forward, scrabbling toward the bridge wall. As soon as he moved, the huge dog pushed itself from the roof, landing so that Emily, Wren, and Jack were on one side of the beast, and Beezle on the other.

  The hound’s back stood higher than Emily’s head. It glared at them, then its muscles bulged and rippled beneath shaggy fur as it turned and lunged toward Beezle.

  The fey screamed and dropped to the ground. This was all that saved him, as the beast’s slavering jaws snapped closed where his head had been only moments before. Beezle scrabbled backward as fast as he could go. The dog padded toward him, but a moment later it stopped. Its ears pricked up, as if listening to someone. The hound bared its teeth, then pivoted to face Emily. She held the stick of rowan wood out, but it looked pathetic when compared to the size of the dog. She wondered whether it would even penetrate its hide.

  Emily could just see Beezle past the dog’s shoulder. He was creeping toward the wall. Jack saw him as well.

  “If he gets on that boat, we’re finished,” he whispered.

  “I know,” Emily replied, not taking her eyes from the dog. “Try and shuffle around.”

  Jack put one foot to the side, but even that slight movement caused the hound to jerk its head around and snap at him. Jack froze. The hound watched him for a second, then turned its smoldering gaze back to Emily.

  “It’s keeping us here,” Emily realized. “Holding us for the knight.”

  “We can’t let that happen, Snow.”

  “I am aware of that, Jack,” said Emily, not taking her eyes from the dog. “If you have some kind of idea about how to get out of this, then now would be the time to tell me.”

  “Use the witchbane. But be quick.”

  “What? I can’t—”

  Emily didn’t get a chance to finish, because at that moment Jack threw himself into a somersault that took him rolling between the hound’s front legs.

  “Jack!”

  The hound dropped its head and snapped at Jack, but he was already rolling to the side, out from beneath the dog and up against the bridge wall. He pushed himself to his feet and whipped out his old dagger. The dog turned to face him, snapping at his hand. Jack darted to the side and sliced his hand through the air. The blade caught the dog across the muzzle, leaving a thin line of red. The hound didn’t even notice.

  Emily gripped the rowan stake in both hands and braced the back end against her stomach. Then she ran forward with all the speed she could muster, aiming straight for the hound’s ribs.

  She hit the creature at full speed, the shock of the collision making it feel like she had been smacked in the stomach. The stake slammed into its side, punching through the hound’s thick hide and sliding between its ribs.

  The hound stiffened, then released a long, plaintive howl of pain.

  The sound froze Emily where she stood. She stared in horror at the blood on her hands, at the stake sticking out of the hound’s shivering side.

  What had she done?

  Then Jack grabbed her and yanked her back. She fell to the ground as the hound’s huge teeth snapped together where she had been standing. Jack pulled Emily to her feet, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the wounded dog. It turned haltingly in their direction. It tried to snarl, but all that came out was a low whimper. It limped forward, but its legs couldn’t support its weight and it collapsed to the ground.

  Emily stared. This wasn’t the creature that had chased them. This was a creature in pain. Dying. Something she had killed with her own h
ands.

  Emily felt tears trickling down her cheeks as she watched the hound’s crimson eyes slowly dim. She shook Jack off.

  “Snow! Come on.”

  Beezle was just disappearing over the wall. Wren was sitting next to the rope, ready to follow. Jack was waiting, casting anxious glances at Emily.

  But she ignored them. For the moment, there were only two things that existed in Emily’s world. Herself and the hound. She knelt down on the cobbles, just out of reach of the creature’s jaws. It was still alive, but it didn’t move, only whimpered softly.

  “I’m sorry,” whispered Emily. She had never killed anything before. Not even a spider. What had made her think she had the right? The hound’s life hadn’t been hers to take. Yes, it had turned on Jack, yes, but surely they could have found another way out of the situation?

  She hesitantly reached out her hand. The hound sniffed it. Then its tongue came out and licked her fingers, just like any other dog’s would.

  A moment later it was dead.

  Emily blinked through her tears as the hound’s body melted into a dark smoke that whirled up into the sky and drifted away on the warm wind.

  Howls of anguish erupted from the other side of the shops as the remaining hounds sensed their brother’s death. Through eyes blurry with tears, Emily saw one of them come loping around the corner at the far end of the alley, its eyes flaring red with hatred.

  Jack grabbed Emily and pulled her to the wall. She hoisted herself up and grabbed hold of the rope with numb fingers. She looked down and could just see Beezle dropping the last few feet into the boat, the water roaring and thundering past just below him. Wren was about halfway down.

  “Hurry up!” snapped Jack, giving her a shove.

  Emily dropped the first few feet, then looked up and saw Jack peering anxiously over the wall. He glanced over his shoulder, stiffened, then threw himself over the wall, just managing to grab hold of the rope as he fell. His legs slammed into Emily’s head, causing her to lose her grip. She cried out in pain and slid down the rope. She tightened her fingers, feeling the rough rope tear the skin from her palms. Jack was lowering himself as fast as he could, and a second later Emily saw why. A hound appeared over the lip of the wall, growling and snapping at them.