The Resistance: The Fourth Book of the Fey (Fey Series)

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  The mountain's shadow was falling across the town. If he looked up, he would see the sun's light still glowing in the sky.

  The trails before him were stronger in the growing darkness. They winked at him, as if beckoning him forward.

  "I dunna think arguing with a mob is a good idea," Jakib said in an undertone.

  "It would be better for all of us if you left," the man said.

  "No," Matthias said, "it wouldn't. The Fey have taken over Blue Isle, and I'm one of the few people who know how to fight them."

  "You're fighting nothing," said a small woman toward the front of the crowd. "You've come here to hide."

  "Matthias — " Tri still had a grip on Matthias's arm. "Please. Let it go."

  The trails flared slightly, then faded. He glanced at them, afraid they would go out.

  "I came here because Rocaanism originated here. The Roca is from here."

  "No religion was born here." The small woman came forward. She was younger than Matthias. He didn't recognize her. She had wavy dark hair and an unlined face. "A man was born here."

  "The Beloved of God," said the man who had been taunting Matthias.

  "The religion was created by people like you, for their own benefit, their own power."

  "I'm not so sure," Matthias said.

  "Please." Tri's voice had gone down to a whisper. "This is not for debate. These people cannot be swayed by your words."

  "There is na enough a us ta fight, Holy Sir," Denl whispered. "Listen ta the man."

  "What you believe doesn't matter," the woman said. "The truth is all that matters."

  "And what is truth?" Matthias asked.

  His voice rose. He recognized a tone in it that he hadn't heard since he was Rocaan. Since he was supposed to make such pronouncements. "Truth is different for you than for me. For you, the truth is that because I am tall, I am to be feared. For me, the truth is that because I am tall — something I cannot control — I am hated. I am no different from the rest of you inside."

  "Holy Sir," Denl whispered. He had moved closer to Matthias. So had Jakib. The crowd was closing around them. The trails, once blazing across stone, now disappeared into bodies.

  "We were warned of the tall ones generations ago," the man said.

  "By whom?" Matthias asked.

  "The Roca," a woman said.

  "Really?" Matthias asked. "Then study your own literature, your own history. Some of the old stories say the Roca was tall."

  "And most say he was like us." Tri spoke as loudly as Matthias. "Please, Matthias, you are not welcome here. Let's go about our business."

  Matthias glanced at him. Tri, in one small speech, had allied himself with the people of Constant, and yet somehow still remained allied with Matthias himself. The fear startled Matthias. It was so strong that even Tri, who had gone against the Wise Ones, was backing down.

  "Like you," Matthias said, acknowledging Tri. "Some of the stories say he was short. Like you."

  Tri stepped back as if he'd been slapped. Denl made a panicked sound in his throat. The crowd was getting closer.

  Matthias stared at them. Familiar faces, old faces, faces he didn't recognize. They were a sea before him in the growing twilight. The lighted trails leading away from them did not illuminate their feet or the stone.

  The trails were something other.

  The trails were what he had come for.

  Not to argue with people who, as Tri said, could not be swayed.

  "I'm going to stay in Constant as long as I need to," Matthias said. "You may as well get used to me."

  Then he walked forward, careful not to step on the trails, but to walk beside them. The crowd parted as he moved toward them, as if they were afraid to get near him, as if touching him would hurt them.

  All around him there were rustles and whispers.

  Demon-spawn.

  Soulless one.

  Tall one.

  Begone.

  Begone.

  Begone.

  The words pushed him forward, and he let them. The trail led away from the marketplace, and he followed it. Denl and Jakib stayed beside him. After a moment, Tri caught up to them.

  The crowd let them go. Once Matthias glanced over his shoulder. The crowd remained, huddled together at the edge of the plaza, staring at him, their eyes reflecting the dying light.

  They seemed to glow from within, and he shuddered, just once, before continuing forward.

  The trail wound its way through the streets of Constant. He looked up, toward the mountain, and saw the lights faintly against its side. The mountain felt stronger this night. It was nearly a live thing, its presence as clear to him as Jewel's and Nicholas's had been a moment before.

  Midway up the mountain, a light flared, then died away, almost as if a door had opened. He could sense the room: warm, inviting, like the Tabernacle used to be on a rainy evening.

  And then the feeling was gone.

  "Are ye all right, then?" Denl asked.

  Matthias realized he had been standing still in the middle of the stone-covered road, staring with his mouth open at the mountainside.

  He closed his mouth.

  "I'm fine," he said.

  But he wondered. Lights everywhere, beckoning, beckoning. They had to be traps laid by the Fey, traps that only he could see. He had no holy water on him, and even if he did, it no longer worked anyway.

  And he was going unprotected.

  Or did these lights mean something else, something only "tall ones" could see? Was that why the people of Constant feared him? Because he was part of the mountain in some way?

  "Matthias," Tri said. "We can't stay here much longer. They'll come."

  "I know," he said. "We're not staying." There was only one way to answer his own questions. He couldn't hide forever.

  He took a deep breath and let it out. "We're going up the mountain," he said, and then walked forward, toward the beckoning light.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  The trail had disappeared far below them. Gift, Leen, and the Cap were scaling rocks and finding footholds in the crevices between them. Gift was actually glad that Leen had stopped him from bringing too much stuff. Climbing was awkward enough without being overbalanced by weight.

  The Cap had the worst time of it. His small arms and stubby legs didn't allow him the reach that Gift had. Gift had looked back just once to see the Cap, arms wrapped around a boulder, struggling with tiny footholds that Gift couldn't even see. Gift had stepped right through that area.

  The Cap had also insisted on bringing all of his weapons. They were tied to him as if he were a Beast Rider instead of a Red Cap. He was lucky he was strong. The average Fey couldn't carry that much equipment.

  Gift had wondered how the Cap had done it for the bulk of their trip. Coulter had suggested that the Cap leave the weapons with him, and the Cap had refused. He seemed to think they gave him a protection he didn't otherwise possess.

  At least the rock field was relatively flat. It sloped upward, but in a way that Gift could manage. Leen had said, as they started, that it looked as if there had once been a rock staircase going up here. After she pointed it out, Gift saw it too. Decades, maybe centuries ago, someone had placed flat rocks into the ground and worn them smooth. But landslides had come off the mountain, covering the area with large and small rocks, making the staircase unpassable.

  Ahead of them, the blackness pulsed. It covered a small portion of the mountain, and looked, in some ways, like an unprotected entrance to Shadowlands. Leen and the Cap still said they couldn't see it.

  Gift could see it and feel it and almost taste it. It was that close.

  He refused to let himself look in any other direction. When they had started climbing, he had glanced at the valley beneath them. It was lost in mist, the buildings barely visible, the trees poking out like blades of grass. It looked so small that it terrified him, and once he had that thought, he slipped on the rock he was holding. He managed to catch himself, but he promised
himself that he wouldn't look down again.

  "How much farther?" the Cap asked. His breath was coming in small gasps. He was clearly winded.

  Gift wasn't yet, but he didn't know how much of that was anticipation. As he grew closer to the blackness, he felt a wave of euphoria wash over him with each pulse. He hoped that it was not some kind of luring effect. His only salvation from that, he knew, was that Leen and the Cap couldn't feel it.

  "Not too much farther," he said.

  "You said that a long time ago," the Cap said. "I'm going to stop if we don't get there soon."

  "It was your idea to come," Leen said.

  "I didn't realize we'd need the magick of Beast Riders," the Cap said.

  Gift's hands were growing cold. The ground between the rocks was covered with a faint dusting of snow.

  "Careful," he said. "It's getting slick."

  He glanced up again. The blackness pulsed. A few more rocks to cross and then they would be on a flat stone, almost like an entryway. He was getting tired too. He could feel it in his back and shoulders, in his legs and feet.

  Then he saw an opening in the rocks. The stairs here were thin and broken, but they were walkable. He stopped on a small flat dirt area, and waited for the Cap and Leen.

  Sometime during their passage, the Cap had gotten ahead of Leen. It was just like her to protect the weakest one in the troop without his knowledge, even if he was a Red Cap. Gift smiled at her. She nodded but didn't stop her work on the rocks. She was close enough to the Cap to catch him if he fell, far enough away that he wouldn't know she was protecting him if he didn't need it.

  When he reached the small flat spot, he doubled over and breathed hard. "This is it?" he managed.

  "No," Gift said. He pointed to the larger flat spot. The area was made of continuous stone as if someone had taken rocks, flattened them, and formed them into a floor. "We need to get there."

  "At least we have stairs," Leen said as she reached them. She put a hand on the Cap's back. "Breathe slowly."

  He did. Gift was surprised that the Cap listened to her. He didn't listen to anyone else. Gift was also surprised that Leen was being so kind to a Red Cap.

  Maybe she had gotten used to him.

  "What do you see up there?" Leen asked.

  "Besides that ledge?" Gift asked.

  She nodded.

  "That same blackness I saw before," he said. He squinted, but it didn't change. "It's almost alive, you know? It moves, almost as if it's breathing."

  The Cap stood slowly. He was still clutching his stomach. "And you want us to go there?"

  "Yes," Gift said. Then he frowned. "What does it look like to you?"

  Leen raised her head. "The sunlight's blocking it," she said.

  "It can't be," Gift said. "This side of the mountain faces south."

  "Besides," the Cap said without looking, "the sun is going down, and there are rocks blocking the western side."

  "So you see a brightness?" Gift asked, wondering at the difference.

  "No," she said. "I see a glare. There's a difference."

  There was. He knew it, and it bothered him on a deep level. "How come I can see this and you can't?"

  "Maybe you're the only one who's supposed to go there," Leen said.

  "Or maybe you're seeing a type of magick," the Cap said. "Remember that Coulter could see it too."

  "But what he saw was different," Leen said.

  "And Leen will have magick one day. She just hasn't grown into it yet."

  "That's right," the Cap said. "She can see a glare. I can't even see that." He raised his head, shaded his eyes with his free hand, and looked. "It looks like a mountainside. Nothing more, nothing less."

  There was sadness in his voice.

  "Steps leading to a rock ledge which ends in a mountainside?" Gift asked.

  The Cap nodded.

  "How very amazing," Gift said. "Maybe everyone who sees it sees something different."

  "Maybe," Leen said, but she didn't sound so certain.

  They both were losing their nerve, and Gift wanted to get up the mountainside. He wanted to see this dark thing.

  "Let's go," he said. "We only have a short way."

  "That's what worries me," the Cap said under his breath.

  "You ready?" Gift asked him.

  The Cap took a deep breath. He was still a bit flushed from the climb, but not seriously.

  Gift nodded to him, then turned and mounted the first stair. It was broken off in the center so he had to step to the sides. He climbed it, then the next and the next, using the piles of rocks on either side as railings.

  The Cap followed him, and Leen trailed behind, as she had before.

  It only took Gift a few moments to reach the ledge.

  It wasn't made of a continuous piece of stone at all. It was rock mortared together long enough ago that the rocks themselves had cracked. It was slightly uneven and rough beneath his feet.

  This was a man-made structure, built to look like part of the mountain.

  The hair on the back of Gift's neck rose.

  The Cap came up beside him and immediately sat down. Some of his swords scraped the stone, but he didn't seem to notice. Leen had to go around him.Gift looked up toward the blackness. It wasn't pulsating any more. In fact, it didn't look like a live thing. All he saw was a cave opening, as rounded and natural as the caves he had seen in other parts of the mountain.

  Except for the swords outside.

  Stone swords, carved out of rock. They were taller than Gift. Two of them were embedded into the rock, points down. Their hilts were in the air, as if waiting for giants to snatch them from the ground.

  Another two were sticking out of the sides of the cave's mouth. The points were again embedded into the rock, their hilts waiting to be grabbed. The swords were several feet above Gift's head, and laid out flat.

  A fifth sword balanced above the center of the cave's mouth. It stood on its point, but its back was pressed into the stone. It didn't look as if it were carved into the stone; it looked as if it were added later.

  "That's their religious symbol," the Cap said. His voice shook. "We need to leave."

  "No." Gift grabbed the Cap's arm. He couldn't explain it, but he didn't feel any threat here. Just the compelling need to go inside.

  "It's got to be some kind of trap," Leen said.

  "No," Gift said. "It's more than that."

  He let go of the Cap and started for the swords. The Cap ran forward and wrapped his small body around Gift. Gift could feel the press of knife and sword hilts against his legs.

  "You can't go," the Cap said. "You can't. If you die in there —

  "I won't," Gift said.

  "At least let me go first," Leen said. She pushed past both of them, drew her knife and headed toward the swords.

  "Can you see the opening?" Gift asked.

  "Vividly," she said, her tone dry. She was frightened — he could tell from her posture — but she didn't stop. Gift freed himself from the Cap and stepped a bit forward.

  Leen stopped between the two swords and touched the closest with her fingers. Her hand was trembling.

  Gift held his breath —

  And nothing happened.

  She nodded. "I'm all right," she said. She stepped past the swords and into the cave's mouth.

  "Wow!" she cried, and her voice echoed.

  She came back out, past the standing swords as if they were no more than trees and grabbed Gift by the hand. "You have to come in there."

  "No traps?" the Cap asked.

  "If there are any, they're farther inside," Leen said. "But I don't think anyone's been here for centuries."

  Gift didn't need a second invitation. He kept his hand in hers. Even though he had felt an urgency to get up here, the urgency was gone now. He wanted to take his time, see everything.

  As he approached the swords, he forced Leen to slow down.

  "They're carved," he said.¦

  Of course they're carved
," the Cap snapped.

  "No," Gift said. "Look at the scrollwork."

  The blades were etched as if they were really made of metal. And the hilts were detailed as well. The etchings on the blades were swirls and symbols that Gift did not understand. The details on the hilt looked familiar.

  He grabbed Leen's knife, stood on his tiptoes, and scraped. Dirt flaked off. Layers and layers of dirt.

  Beneath it, a jewel gleamed dully, catching a bit of redness from the sun. Jewel-encrusted hilts. He wondered if these swords were really made of stone or if the layers that covered them had formed to the metal itself.

  "What is this place?" the Cap asked.

  Gift stood flat-footed again, and handed Leen her knife. "I don't know," he said. But the elation he had felt earlier was growing. He had to be here.

  He knew it.

  It felt right.

  "I don't like this," the Cap said. He shoved himself in front of Gift. "You go everywhere last. If there's some kind of trap in here, we'll find it first."

  Leen stood in the cave's mouth, directly below the point of the sword above. She was bouncing, as if she couldn't contain her own excitement.

  The air was cold and crisp, but Gift felt no chill. He glanced at the swords above him. They appeared to be braced on nothing. It was as if they were flung into the stone and then stuck there. He could almost imagine them vibrating with the initial impact, then settling into their current position.

  The only sword that looked as if it had been placed there on purpose was the one above Leen.

  "Come on," she said.

  He thought it odd that her mood would shift so quickly. Perhaps the Cap's fears were grounded. Perhaps there was something here they didn't dare tamper with.

  The Cap pushed ahead of Gift. When he reached Leen's position, he too stopped.

  "By the Powers," he said. "What "is "this place?"

  Gift came up beside them, and felt the breath leave his body.

  The cave was full of light. It was as if a small sun shone from one corner, illuminating everything. The light was dazzling but not blinding, and it felt entirely natural.

  The cold from the outside was at Gift's back. Before him was a dry, inviting warmth. Stairs went down almost as far as the eye could see. The floor below looked like it were made of white stone.