Another lecture was brewing. I slapped the book shut. “Look,” I said, frustrated. “I’m sorry. I just never took the time to learn the names and pastimes of every creature in European folklore. Silly of me not to realize my life would depend on it, I know.” This last was delivered with much more sarcasm than I’d intended. I slumped. So much for playing the willing victim. “If you’re so convinced that I’m just a clueless liability, why don’t you just let me go?” I asked hopelessly.
“You’re doing pretty well, actually,” said Thomas with what I think was meant to be an encouraging smile, but beneath it, he looked worried. He was probably thinking of all the ways that the captive ‘clueless liability’ could endanger the group. “And it’s not as if you’ll be alone.”
Right, I thought sourly. I’m going to have my kidnappers right there to hold my hand. Thanks, Thomas. I feel better already. I looked out the window. The Irish countryside was beautiful, but this part of it was depressingly devoid of civilization. I glanced over Mitchell’s shoulder to surreptitiously check the gas gauge. Still over a quarter tank. A pox on fuel-efficient cars. If we didn’t have to make a stop for gas before we got to wherever we were going, I didn’t know how I was going to make a break for it.
I sighed. If we were dealing with German mythology, I might have a better chance of not being ‘drowned, eaten, or both,’ as Mitchell had so charmingly put it. I had grown up listening to German fairy tales, which are less than kid-friendly, and contributed largely to the problem I had with nightmares as a child, but at least that meant I remembered them. I frowned, suddenly wondering how much of the folklore I knew was accurate.
Under the guise of hunting down ‘gwyllion’, I flipped to the section on German mythological creatures much later in the book, looking for ‘Erlking’. In the classic poem that describes the Erlking, the verses narrate a story of a man riding on horseback through the woods, carrying his son. The Erlking sees them and, charmed by the boy, invites him to come live with him and his daughters in his kingdom. When the terrified father drives the horse onward, the Erlking, enraged at being refused, kills the child. The story was frightening enough that the Erlking had featured prominently in those childhood nightmares, though admittedly, it might also have had something to do with my grandmother making threats about him coming to steal away misbehaving children (not part of the myth, as it turns out—just my grandmother using questionable methods to ensure good behavior from a rowdy five-year-old). In any case, I was hopeful that I wouldn’t find the entry, and that the story of Der Erlkönig would turn out to be just that—a story.
No such luck. I found the entry
The Erlkönig (Alder King, or Erlking) is an ancient and powerful being that rules over a significant portion of the fae of Germany. He and his children are vengeful and cruel, possessing the ability to cause illness and death with a single touch. His territory should be avoided.
There was more, but I couldn’t make myself read it. Irish fae were not (from what I had learned in Mitchell’s crash course, anyway) kind and gentle, but nonetheless, I decided that I was glad not to be dealing with German fairy tales come to life after all. I shivered and flipped back to the entry for ‘gwyllion’, which, as it turns out, are Welsh spirits that enjoy frightening and misleading travelers, as Thomas had said. A few minutes later, Mitchell was back to quizzing me. I didn’t protest; reading an encyclopedic entry on my old nightmare had been very effective at driving home the point of how dangerous some of these creatures could be, so I cooperated without complaint this time.
About half an hour later, Mitchell pulled the car over at the edge of a deserted green field. I looked around. The landscape was unspoiled except for what looked like a factory a few miles to the north of us. Isana stepped quickly out of the car as Mitchell killed the ignition. I unbuckled and slipped out of the car to stand beside her, still looking around quickly to get my bearings. Isana was standing almost motionless, though her head turned slowly as she scanned the field, questing for something. She sent a swift look to Dietrich, who had also exited the car. He met her gaze for an instant and nodded, as if acknowledging a silent question. Isana exhaled, her expression simultaneously nervous and elated. She turned to me.
“We have reached the worldline,” she said. “I will help you to cross it; the others can manage for themselves.”
“Cross it?” I looked around frantically. It seemed like my chances for escape had just dropped to nothing.
“Into Alfheim, yes.” She was either oblivious to my panic, or was ignoring it. She walked forward, stepping into knee-high grass, scanning the ground. I forced myself to follow her; Dietrich was only five paces away and I didn’t like the thought of what would happen if he thought I was trying to slip away at what was probably a crucial juncture. Thomas and Mitchell followed as well. After a moment Isana stopped and turned to face us, her gaze strangely alive. “Here,” she said, her voice charged with subdued excitement. “Here.”
“Excellent,” said Mitchell. He carelessly tossed the keys back to the car, where they landed next to the front tire. Iron, I realized, remembering Thomas’ comment about how difficult it could be to work magic if you were carrying any. I tried to convince myself that Mitchell’s cavalier attitude about the keys was a good thing, that it meant he thought we’d be returning sooner rather than later. The more cynical part of me, however, noted that it could also mean he didn’t think we’d be back anytime soon, so it didn’t matter how he left things. Thomas quickly distributed packs to each of us, even me, and handed out the knives I’d seen earlier, two to each person, myself excluded.
“All right,” said Isana, eyes still alight with excitement. “Samantha, take my arm. I will assist you.” Thomas looked like he was trying to restrain a broad grin. Dietrich and Mitchell, however, exchanged a glance, both looking grim. Isana hooked her arm around mine. A strange little thrill ran through me, but it was quickly drowned out by the sensible side of me, which was screaming protest.
Isana took a single step forward, pulling me with her. An odd tingling sensation, like mild electricity, ran through my body. I heard Dietrich murmur something in German. She took another step forward, and I fell against her for support; the ground had lurched. Another step. The sunlight seemed to flicker around us. I raised my foot to take another stride. Abruptly, the air thickened, becoming somehow heavier. I lowered my foot to the earth and stumbled at another lurching sensation. Isana released me, and I nearly dropped to the ground.
“We have arrived,” she said softly as I recovered my balance. I looked around. We stood in a large moor, the green of the tall grass tinged purple with an abundance of heather. A cool mist hovered over the earth, swirling around us. The air felt charged, much as it had when Thomas had performed that little bit of magic in the garden what now felt like ages ago. I turned around quickly. No sign of the factory in the distance, or the car. Isana smiled at my dumbfounded expression, then twirled in a little circle, her hands clasped together with excitement. “Wilkommen aus Alfheim. Welcome to the fae realm.”
Chapter Six
Isana and I waited for a moment for the rest of our entourage to appear. They did so, and as unnerving as the jump into Alfheim had been, it was even stranger watching other people make it from this side. They sort of flickered into existence, first Mitchell, then Thomas, then finally Dietrich, bringing up the rear. Of the three, only Dietrich looked fully at ease; like me, Mitchell and Thomas has stumbled upon materializing and looked disoriented for a few seconds after.
Dietrich stepped to the front of our little party. “There is a path that runs through that forest,” he said, nodding to a dark mass of trees some distance away. “It will lead us nearly to Aerenia’s realm. We will keep to it unless forced to do otherwise.” I didn’t want to think on what might do the forcing. Dietrich’s gaze lingered on me. “I trust we will all remember how dangerous these lands are for uninvited mortals.”
Ha. Like I was going to forget. I avoided his gaze, though, an
d without another word he turned and began walking toward the trees.
“Are you all right?” Thomas asked me in an undertone as we fell in line behind Dietrich. I nodded, still looking around with a stunned expression. We had just jumped into another world. I repeated this to myself several times, but the repetition didn’t force it to make sense to my shocked brain. “Are you sure?” pressed Thomas. “Your idea of reality just took a pretty strong hit. It’s all right to take time to process it.”
“I don’t think Dietrich is going to let me take time to mull things over,” I muttered. I realized I was tapping the rhythm to a concerto against my thigh with my left hand out of nervousness and consciously dropped it to my side. Dietrich was already setting a brisk pace which I suspected was going to give me trouble as time went on; the past several months, during which I’d been underfed and overworked, had taken a toll on me physically. Still, I wasn’t going to admit that I needed to slow down until I had no other choice.
“Probably not,” Thomas agreed, sending a wary look toward Dietrich. For the first time, I realized that I was not the only one here frightened of him. I shook my head, wishing I could understand this group. There was Isana, who Thomas mistrusted. She in turn seemed somehow answerable to Dietrich, though it was clear that she wasn’t fond of him. The only person here that Dietrich seemed to hold any regard for was Mitchell. And yet they all had a common goal, to see Dietrich victorious in a contest to marry a known black widow. I turned this all over in my head a couple of times. I could really use some more details. Thomas continued, “Just stay close to the group and you’ll be fine.”
Yeah, whatever. Like I was actually supposed to believe that after having spent four hours being drilled on the nastiest creatures that Irish mythology had to offer, then merrily waltzing into said creatures’ domain. I just sent Thomas a skeptical look and kept walking. Eventually we reached the edge of the forest, for which I have only one word: creepy. The forest was all old growth, looking as if it hadn’t seen an axe for a few thousand years, if ever. As we pressed deeper in, following a narrow, winding dirt path, only occasional daring beams of sunlight struggled in through the dense foliage. Even these seemed subdued by the time they met the fern-covered forest floor. Long strands of lichen hung from branches like cobwebs, often low enough that we had to brush them aside as we walked. To make things worse, I kept hearing something rustling in the bushes, entirely too close for comfort. Each time it happened, the birds and insects would fall silent, then slowly resume as we moved on.
“It’s all right,” said Thomas, the third or fourth time this happened. I had jumped nearly out of my skin when a branch of deadwood crashed to the forest floor some yards away from the path. “We’re being trailed, but it’s just a tree guardian. It’s just warning us not to harm the forest.”
The news that we were being followed by a supernatural creature, oddly, did nothing to soothe my nerves, but I nodded and made a mental note not to damage any local flora. The forest was growing still denser, and there were points where the ferns and brush nearly obscured the path. After we’d gone for a long period of time without hearing any ominous sounds from our tree guardian stalker, Thomas said, “Do you think it’s safe to risk a light?”
“I believe so. But no fire,” said Mitchell warningly. “If anything believes that we mean harm to the forest…”
“Right. Not that anything would bother us with those two around,” muttered Thomas, with a look at Dietrich and Isana. He scanned the ground in front of him as we continued to walk, then stooped quickly to pick up a rock about the size of a tennis ball. He muttered something, and a bright flash of light momentarily blinded me. Thomas yelped, and I heard a dull thud. When my vision cleared, I saw that he had dropped the rock, though it was still glowing a cheerful shade of pink where it lay on the ground. Mitchell turned to look at Thomas with raised eyebrows.
“Sorry,” said Thomas sheepishly. “It’s been a while; I forgot how much easier it is here.”
“Don’t let it happen again,” said Mitchell. “There will be no room for error during the competition.”
“Right, sorry,” said Thomas again.
“What’s easier here?” I asked, confused.
“Magic,” said Thomas. He picked up the glowing stone, which illuminated the path in front of us as we resumed walking. “Performing sorcery in our world is difficult because you have to drag the magic across the worldlines; our world has hardly any of its own. So just now I accidentally pulled about six times the energy that I needed.” He grinned. “I’ll be able to do things here that I wouldn’t dare try on Earth.”
“Thomas, you will still need to operate as a Shadow,” said Mitchell, glancing backwards. “Don’t do anything rash.”
“Shadow?” I asked.
“It has to do with various methods of drawing on magical energy,” said Thomas. “Magic in its raw form is harmful to mortal flesh, so drawing on it can be painful. Because of that, sorcerers usually work in pairs—one person channels the energy while the other directs it in the spellcasting. If you try to do both on more than minor magical tasks, the pain can be so overwhelming that you lose control of the flow. Very dangerous.”
I remembered how his voice had gone ragged after his trick with the hedge. Apparently that hadn’t been from the effort of casting what was probably a minor spell, but from managing the associated pain. “So… you channel it, and Mitchell directs it, usually?” Thomas nodded. I made a skeptical noise. “That’s convenient… for him, anyway.”
“The alternative method is far less pleasant,” said Mitchell at the same time that Thomas said, “I knew what I was getting into when I became his apprentice.”
I frowned as I flicked a strand of lichen out of my way, wondering why I was disturbed by this. So my captors regularly sent scorching magical energy through their own bodies: not my problem. Still, as I glanced at Thomas, the thought bothered me.
Something occurred to me. “When Isana enthralled me… it didn’t seem to hurt her at all.” And I somehow doubted that Dietrich had been kind enough to channel magical energy for her so that she wouldn’t have to deal with the pain.
“Oh,” said Thomas, suddenly looking uncomfortable. Isana glanced back at him, and in the faint pink light of his impromptu lamp, I caught a look of cold warning. A little chill ran over me; I’d been thinking of her as far friendlier than Dietrich, but that expression suggested otherwise. Unpredictable, I reminded myself. “The reason for that is… technical,” said Thomas. “You probably wouldn’t understand the details.”
I wasn’t sure if that answer was meant to be condescending, evasive, or both. I didn’t get a chance to press further, however, because at that moment, an enthusiastic cry of “Mortals!” rang through the trees. Something swooped over my head, and I shrieked, ducking.
“Stay down!” Thomas shouted, and suddenly the whole group was tightly knit together, knives drawn.
“No need for that,” said a chiding voice. Still crouched, I looked around rapidly until my eyes landed on a raven perched on a nearby branch. I didn’t have to wonder if it was a regular raven; the glowing golden eyes pretty well destroyed that notion. The raven blinked, tilting its head nearly upside-down. “You’re an interesting group,” it said. I racked my brain for any mythological ravens that Mitchell might have mentioned, but I came up empty. Carefully, I straightened, standing between Thomas and Dietrich. Dietrich glanced at me, and I edged a few inches away. With great deliberateness, the bird stepped off the branch and dropped. Midway down, it transformed into a black goat that landed lightly on the fern-covered ground, its cloven hooves splayed. “Hello,” it said, focusing those bright golden eyes on me. “You don’t really belong here, do you?”
“Umm…” Something about being addressed by a talking goat that had been a raven two seconds previous threw off my ability for normal conversation, even if I heartily agreed with the sentiment it had expressed. “Not really?”
Dietrich sheathed his knives, an
d the others slowly followed suit. “Greetings, puca,” said Mitchell calmly. “What news from the court of Titania?”
The puca, whatever that was, didn’t answer, but instead trotted around our group in a tight circle, sniffing. As a goat, its head barely cleared the ferns that crowded the path, so it stamped on several of them. They wilted instantly, shriveling away. The puca paused as if confused when it passed by Isana, then continued its circuit. It paused again at Mitchell, and its ears drooped. “Oh,” it said, sounding disappointed. “You’re one of the Pact’s enforcers, aren’t you?”
“I am,” said Mitchell firmly.
“That’s a shame,” said the puca. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been to a Samhain celebration?” It tapped a hoof against a rock in a quick rhythm. “I miss the dancing and the games… mortals can be such winning creatures, wouldn’t you say?” It wasn’t clear who this was addressed to, so nobody answered. The puca looked longingly into the distance. “There was one village that always left an extra share of grain for me in the fields… blasting it with rot was such fun…” It tilted its head, looking back at Mitchell with a faintly accusatory expression. (Having trouble imagining what that looks like on a goat? I would have too, before seeing it.) “It can be very boring here, you know,” it said plaintively. “Do you know any riddles?”
Mitchell looked taken aback. “Riddles?”
“Yes. It’s been such a long time…” The puca flicked its ears. “I would enjoy a game.”
“We are on an errand of some urgency,” said Dietrich, and he turned to start down the path. The puca lunged, transforming into an enormous black wolf and planting itself firmly in his way. “I asked,” it said, with no change in tone, “if anyone would be willing to play a game of riddles.” It looked at him, cocking its head, one ear pointed straight up.
Fae Bound Page 5