The Dark Huntsman: A Fantasy Romance of The Black Court (Tales of The Black Court Book 1)

by Jessica Aspen

  Between the pillars, reality flexed, and the stench and humidity of a swamp hit her. Trina reeled from the sudden shift, her recently settled stomach lurching and rising in her throat.

  “Easy,” Logan said.

  It had been early morning in the field of grass, but here, it was much later in the day and the moist heat was stifling. Solanum’s muscles bunched under her thighs as he struggled to walk with the double weight in the sucking mud. The smell was awful, a sulfuric mix of decay and heat that threatened to overwhelm her. She swallowed and breathed through her mouth to keep her stomach from rebelling.

  “Ugh!” she said, burying her face in Logan’s hair and taking small breaths.

  “You’ll get used to it,” he said. “There are much worse worlds. Parts of Underhill are very bad.”

  Trina held on tight, watching the hounds pick and choose their footing carefully. She ducked as one slipped, splashing into the odorous water. They climbed up a hillock, all the hounds pouring onto the small, dry space, happy tails waving as they pushed and shoved at each other and Solanum for space.

  “Watch it! I’m here, aren’t I?” Solanum cocked a threatening hoof and the hounds shifted out into a wider arc, a few splashing off the side into the sludge.

  Logan dismounted, stopping Trina when she started to slide down. “Solanum can shield you, but only if you stay on his back.”

  “But where are you going?”

  “There’s something here. I’ll be better off tracking it without you.”

  “I don’t think…”

  Logan squeezed her thigh. “Don’t worry, I’ll come back.” Then he sloshed off into the mist.

  She tangled her hands in Solanum’s mane in case the beast decided to move.

  The great head in front of her angled back. “He’s left you to me, love,” Solanum said, rolling his eyes. “How long do you think he’ll be? Do you think we have time for a quick one?”

  Cold traced down her spine.

  “Piss off.” She got a good grip of his long mane in case he took offense but he only gave a low, wicked laugh and flicked his tail, killing a fly. Trina shivered, despite the heat. If Logan didn’t return soon, she’d get down and go after him. She’d brave swamp monsters, lizards, and stink just to be far from Solanum’s malevolence.

  Solanum switched his tail at another fly, stinging her leg through her jeans. “Sorry, love,” he sneered.

  She ignored him and his petty behavior, and rubbed at her calf. In the distance, something sloshed through the swamp, coming closer. Straightening up, she tightened her grip on Solanum’s mane.

  More sloshing sounds and garbled noises echoed strangely through the fog. “Tighten those thighs a little more, would you?” Solanum asked.

  Trina opened her mouth to let the puca know what an ass he was, but he cut her off as Logan appeared at the base of the hillock, holding a small, kicking garden gnome by the ankle. The gnome was complete with a white beard and blue hat, but the foul language coming from his mouth didn’t fit the picture of a family ornament.

  “Stay quiet, love, and he won’t even notice you,” Solanum whispered.

  She pressed her lips together and examined Logan’s prisoner.

  “Aaarghh!” screamed the gnome. “Yer hurtin me, you big galumph! Why would ye be doin’ this?”

  “I’m not hurting you. Relax, and you’ll be fine. I simply require a bit of information from you.” Logan’s face seemed serious, but Trina recognized the glint of humor in his eyes. She doubted the gnome was paying attention as he thrashed and kicked like a prize bass. Logan dropped him on the side of the hillock and the gnome lurched up to his full, two-foot height. He clutched his little, blue hat and turned to run, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of the fence of silent, red hounds lined up with their teeth bared.

  “Information, hmm? You could have just asked.” The gnome huffed. He settled his hat back on his head.

  “And would you have stayed to answer me?” Logan slapped his gloves on his thigh, looking more than a little frightening and exotic with his long hair pulled back off his face, clad in his black leathers, and surrounded by the red hounds, his face a hard, intent mask.

  “Well, I might have! Now we won’t ever know.”

  “Start with your name.”

  “I’m not givin’ ye that! What can ye be thinking?”

  “It’s a simple question. I caught you fair and square. By the laws of Faery, you must answer me.”

  “Ye snuck up on me, and ye know it. I’ll not answer!” Hands on his hips, the gnome stood as tall as he could and attempted to look the towering elf in the eye. Logan pulled a golden bird cage from his pocket.

  “All right. Have it your way.” He opened the little door in the cage. Trina kept silent, aware that Solanum’s magic kept her hidden.

  “Are ye plannin’ on keepin’ me in there?” The little face grew taut and anxious. “I’ll shrivel up into nothin’ away from me swamp.”

  “It is your choice. All I’m asking for is some information and then I’ll let you go.”

  “What do you want to know? Not me name, that’s too much!”

  “I’m looking for some information on the whereabouts of a Tuathan named Aoife.”

  “What makes ye think I know her?” hedged the gnome.

  “I’ve no time for games.” Logan reached for the gnome.

  The gnome leaned back, rolling his eyes with panic as he was squeezed between the sharp teeth of the hounds and Logan’s large hands.

  “No! No! I do know her, I do! I’ll tell ye!” The little fae’s face blanched. “She was here years ago. Used to come through here all the time until the queen and she got inter some kinda fight. Then she stopped comin’ through the ring.”

  “Good. That’s a start.”

  The gnome swallowed and looked at the golden cage that swung from Logan’s gloved hand. “I heared a rumor she’s gone ta ground.” He nodded for emphasis. “She’s now what you call a…” he slowed down and spoke the word carefully, “Rree-ti-ree.”

  “Really? She’s retired?” Logan’s eyebrows rose and his stern look slipped. “Who did you hear this from?”

  “It was in the air,” the gnome said.

  “I need more than that. I need to know where I can find her.”

  “Bluebell will know. She who lives in the dell on t’other side of the swamp. She were there.”

  Logan’s face darkened and he loomed over the tiny fae. “Tell no one I was here, and I shall have no reason to trouble you over this matter again.”

  The gnome nodded his head up and down, his hat slipping over his eyes.

  Logan shrank the little golden cage and tucked it away. “Thank you for your services. Good sir, I release you.”

  The hounds spread apart and a small gap appeared. The gnome scuttled through it, fleeing the hounds and the hillock, only looking back to glare once before he splashed into the swampy water and swam to another high tuft of grass.

  “No thanks to ye, Huntsman!” he shouted over his shoulder, waved a clenched fist, and disappeared into the grass.

  Trina opened her mouth, but Logan shook his head. Frustrated, she scooted back and Logan climbed on Solanum in front of her. They rode through the oppressive heat, out of the swamp, and up a large hill. The sun had burned the fog and sweat trickled down Trina’s back, gluing her shirt to her spine.

  At the top of the rise, the land dipped into a grassy round filled with flowers and buzzing bees. The hounds ringed the dell, forming a fence, and Logan dismounted. A bee flew into Trina’s face and she lifted her hand to brush it away. Logan gripped her wrist and shook his head. She peered closer, and Logan released her. Buzzing an inch in front of her nose was a tiny woman in a gauzy, blue dress with clear, fragile wings.

  She reached for the faery, the first she’d ever seen outside of a book but it flew back into the crowd. Logan stepped into the center of the dell, and politely began his questioning. She couldn’t make words out of the buzzing, but he cock
ed his head to one side, seeming to have a very detailed conversation with them. Solanum held his tongue and his tail, and Trina held still as multiple, small fae flew into her face, tickling her ears with their tiny wings and buzzing lightly under her chin.

  Logan spoke with one small, buzzing object for a longer space of time before backing out of the dell and remounting Solanum for the ride back into the swamp and through the stones.

  Back in the world of grass, Trina’s head spun and she choked back bile.

  “Come on, get down.” Logan pulled her off Solanum, and she leaned against him, struggling to get words out past her clenched teeth.

  “Tell me.”

  “Sit down first.” He pushed her onto a rock buried in the grass. Solanum snorted down at her.

  “Come over here so I can barf on you again,” she said. He backed away.

  “Put your head between your knees and breathe.” Logan stroked her shoulder as she gulped huge breaths of the fresh air.

  “Talk,” she said, and put her head down.

  “It took a while, but I found the Bluebell that gnome talked about.” His soothing touch and the fresh air began to work. “Tiny fae are tough to get any information from…brains no bigger than walnuts. Once she figured out who I was talking about, she wouldn’t stop talking. She visits Aoife quite often at her estate. Apparently, Aoife holds her own court of the lesser fae there.” He shook his head. “So much for being retired.”

  “We should go there next.” She stood, and the world swam in and out of focus.

  “Easy, lass. You need to rest.”

  Trina sank back down onto the rock. “After I rest, we’ll go see her.”

  Logan frowned. “Her estate is in a part of Underhill that is under the protection of Oberon, King of the Gold Court and enemy of the Black Queen. He’ll think I’m there for the queen and will kill me on sight.”

  “Haven’t you been there before?”

  “Yes, but the king never liked me, and that was before I was Huntsman. I might go myself, but I’m damned if I’ll bring you into his court.”

  “We’re so close.” She rose to her feet, her hand going to her rebellious stomach. “You have no right to stop me from going.”

  “It has nothing to do with rights. It has to do with risking your life, woman! You’ve been targeted, and if we go there together, it won’t matter who you are, you’ll be considered as guilty as I.”

  “If I’m in danger at the cottage, you have to take me. You said yourself that you wouldn’t leave me there alone.” A wave of dizziness had her swaying with the grass.

  Logan steadied her. He gently pushed loose strands of hair back from her face, and she resisted the urge to lean into his strong body and let him make all the decisions. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “Let’s take a break, get a meal, and get you feeling better, then we’ll see.”

  Trina nodded, relieved she didn’t have to argue her cause immediately. She walked over to Solanum, bracing for the ride through one more portal. Before she could mount, Solanum shied to the side. She stumbled and fell against his flank.

  “What the…?”

  “Something comes through the Gate!” Logan shoved her on top of the puca and mounted behind her. The grass moved as if a slight breeze blew from the direction of the Gate, but the air itself was still.

  The ground began to vibrate.

  Solanum took off, galloping away from the stones. Trina slid, grabbing for his mane, the jolting shaking her sore stomach. Ahead, the swirling colors of a portal opened. Solanum’s hooves pounded as he picked up speed, and Trina’s head swam. A small pop came from behind them.

  Trina risked looking back. One-by-one, three hideous, large slimy creatures emerged from the empty air between the stones. Emitting bone-shaking roars, the bulky green humanoids dropped to all fours and raced after them.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dark green, oozing slime, and like nothing she’d ever seen in one of her text books, the creatures had crawled out of every bad horror film Trina had ever stayed up late to watch. They moved faster than she thought their blocky humanoid shapes could manage with an unreal lightning speed that raced toward them.

  “Hurry!” she screamed, gripping Logan’s leather jacket. The portal was too far away. They were about to be attacked.

  Solanum put on a burst of speed and the mists of the portal rocketed up. Logan didn’t look back.

  “You’ll need to do better than that.” He urged Solanum. They leapt into the portal just as the first of the creatures long, drippy fingers clawed out.

  Time stopped.

  Their mad rush was suspended, caught in the timelessness of the portal. The whirling grey-purple fog and its phantasms of sight and sound flowed by at a bizarrely slow rate. Trina screwed her eyes shut and hung on, screaming to the Goddess a prayer for survival.

  Solanum’s jump thudded onto a hard surface. Trina jerked in surprise, losing her grip on Logan and flying over his head. She landed, stunned, in the dirt by the side of a hard, paved road, blinking narrowly at a small cactus inches from her face. The hounds raced out of the mist and formed a protective circle around her as she lay there, dizzy and sick, the smell of old oil and burnt tires acrid in her face.

  She lifted her head a few inches off the road and spit the blood and grit from her mouth towards the cactus. Unable to see over the tall red backs of the hounds, she forced herself up onto her arms and struggled to sit part way up. Pushing high on her elbows she peered through the long legs of the hounds and watched as Logan fought to keep his seat on Solanum, and the puca slid off the side of the road, his haunches bunching in an attempt to keep his footing in what looked to be a desolate landscape.

  Dry, arid highway stretched out with nothing but scattered cactus, stubby brush, and grey, lumpy hills, miles away and fading in the dusky light. Beyond them, the mist of the portal started to close but, before it disappeared, something came through with an almost audible snap. One of the swamp creatures, already there and closing like a rattler.

  The size and shape of a gorilla, much larger than a man or an elf, and reeking of rot, it raced for Logan and Solanum. Trina caught a whiff of its stench, rolled on her side, and retched.

  Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she managed a sitting position. Solanum turned to face the creature, his teeth bared and screaming his lust for battle. The creature reached for his head, but the puca twisted away and the thing lumbered past. Still on Solanum’s back, Logan pulled Singer free.

  The creature ran at them in a second headlong rush. Its massive arms stretched out and grabbed Solanum’s neck with long slimy fingers. The puca’s uncanny eyes glowed in the half-dusky light, his neck muscles bulging as the thing tightened its hold. He lunged for the creature’s shoulder with his teeth.

  Logan freed his sword at last as the creature reached for the puca’s muzzle with its free arm. Logan slashed at it with his sword, drawing green ooze from the wound on its shoulder. It made a liquid, garbled sound, released Solanum, reeled back, and fell to the ground screaming.

  Dust rose. Solanum reared up and brought his vicious, sharp hooves down. The thing rolled to the side and the hooves slammed down next to its head. The puca reared up again and again, smashing down powerful blows at the thing thrashing from side to side in an effort to avoid the deadly assault.

  Trina struggled to see as the fading light grew darker. Clouds gathered, full and heavy with the scent of rain, and narrow spears of lighting cracked in the sky.

  Solanum backed away from the creature and Logan dismounted. Holding his sword at the ready, the two of them closed in. Logan slashed at it with his broadsword and Solanum with his sharp hooves. Lighting flashed. Green slime oozed from the thing’s many cuts. Its frantic defense slowed. Logan stepped up to the creature and stabbed it a final time. Putrid, yellow slime oozed out, pooling in the dirt. A last mournful cry sounded, its movements slowed, then stopped.

  The collapsed creature didn’t move beyond a reflexive twitch
ing as Logan and Solanum circled it. Thunder rolled and the first drops of rain fell. Trina lifted her face to the sky, opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out, grateful to let the rain wash the blood and sourness away.

  Logan pushed through the anxious hounds and helped her to stand. “Are you alright, lass?”

  Clear, cold rain washed down her face, trickled down her nose and into her blouse, plastering her hair to her scalp. “I’m fine.”

  Solanum trotted over. “Well, I’m not. The stink of that thing is making my eyes water.” They ignored him.

  “You’re shaking.” Logan touched her cheek. “Too many portals?”

  Trina smiled a weak smile. “A few.” She reached up and brushed some rain off of Logan’s face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t any help.”

  Logan frowned. “No one expects you to be able to go through portals and then cast spells.”

  Frustration welled up under her breastbone. “I do. I expect it.”

  “And what would you have done?”

  He had her there. All of her spells took time. She was a hindrance. He’d been right to leave her behind in the first place. Her desperation to find a solution to the extermination of her tribe had pushed her into situations that she needed to be able to handle. And she had nothing. No defense. No offense. Nothing.

  “It’s alright. You’re alive. Everything is fine and we’re safe in New Mexico.” Logan’s charm shined out and made her smile.

  “New Mexico? Why did you pick New Mexico?”

  He laughed. “Crazy, right? There’s a tunnel entrance here. I doubt we could take you through another portal anytime soon. Am I right?”

  The thought of another portal was enough for her to lean over and gag again.

  Solanum backed away. “You’re not to put her on me until she’s done heaving.”

  “It’s not far. She’ll be fine.” Logan helped her onto the puca and mounted behind her. Ignoring Solanum’s continuous complaints, they rode in the direction of the grey hills.