“You’re being rather rude,” the puca said, shifting to goat form. Thomas stared. “We’re not here to hurt you. Well, I’m not, anyway. I suppose I can’t really speak for her. Though I did think you were friends, from how ready you were to protect her the last time we met.”
“Puca?” Thomas shook his head quickly, as if unsure if he should believe what he was seeing. “What—what are you doing here?”
“Bringing you your friend, of course,” said the puca. Thomas frowned, looking over at me. I let out a faint whine. “You don’t recognize her? Hmm. Well, I suppose she does look rather different now.”
Thomas looked at me, still frowning. Then, the penny dropped. “Oh, my—Samantha?”
I barked in acknowledgement, nodding. Thomas leaned back, looking stunned. “I don’t—what have they done to you?” He sheathed the knives and made a quick motion, apparently dismissing the wards, because when I rushed forward this time, nothing stopped me. He knelt, and I flung myself at him. He caught me, startled, and I jumped back to the ground, embarrassed.
“Can you change her back?” the puca asked. “It would be lovely if she could speak again.”
“Why would you bring her here?” Thomas demanded, sounding both angry and frightened. “Do you know what this place is? Vicious monsters everywhere, spells and curses popping up like moles in a field—”
“They were going to kill her!” the puca protested. “I didn’t want that. I like her.”
“You could have taken her anywhere!”
“She is tithe-bound. I couldn’t remove her from Aerenia’s realm. And if we’re not wanted here, we’ll just go,” the puca said huffily, stepping close to me. I jumped away, but there was no need. The puca paused. “Hmm,” it said. “That’s odd. I’m being blocked.” Its eyes widened slightly as it considered the implications of this. “Oh dear.”
Thomas passed a hand over his face. “I know,” he said. The anger had faded from his voice, to be replaced with defeat. “Aerenia didn’t want anyone trying to surrender by leaving prematurely. The only way out is through the center. And I can’t… I’m not strong enough to channel and direct magic simultaneously. We’ll never make it.” He looked back at the puca. “Which is exactly why you shouldn’t have brought her here,” he added.
“She wanted this,” the puca said, sulky. It paused. “At least, I think so. It’s not easy to understand exactly what she’s saying right now.”
Thomas rubbed his forehead, then turned back to me. “I’m going to take a look at that spell,” he said. “Just a second—let me reset the wards so we can talk safely. I don’t want anything sneaking up on us.” He closed his eyes, and his muscles tensed. When he relaxed a moment later, he turned to focus intently on me, then flinched, wrenching his gaze away as if blinded. “What—who did that?” he demanded, stunned. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”
“Aerenia,” said the puca, suddenly sounding very serious. “It was frightening. I thought your friend would die, from what Aerenia was doing to her.”
Thomas looked back at me, paling. “She hurt you?” he asked. I hesitated. He looked so distressed, not to mention guilty, that I almost shook my head to reassure him, but he’d just ask the puca for details. I nodded once. An involuntary shudder at the memory of the pain rippled my fur. Thomas slumped. “Sam, I’m… I’m so sorry.” He put his head in his hands. “None of this was meant to happen. I know that doesn’t make it any better, but… I’m sorry.” I hesitated, then put a paw on his knee. He glanced at me, then back at the ground. “I can’t even do anything about that spell,” he said quietly. “It’s a fae curse, and a stronger one than I’ve ever even imagined trying to pull apart. There are huge portions of it that I don’t even understand the purpose of.” I swallowed. Was I… stuck like this permanently? I tried to remind myself that five minutes ago, I’d been facing certain death, which made ‘stuck as a fox’ an improvement, but I was fresh out of positive attitude. He turned back to the puca, still with that same defeated look on his face. “What’s happening up there? One second we were all together, running, and then the next Dietrich and Isana just… vanished. And a few minutes later Mitchell…” He broke off. He blinked back tears, and suddenly I felt like a monster. I’d barely noticed Mitchell’s absence, let alone thought what that implied. I had no reason to mourn him, but Thomas did, however he’d felt about what Mitchell had done to me. Thomas cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “What happened?” he asked again. “Do you know?”
“Aerenia said that the Rhinelanders were planning to kill her,” the puca said. “She was angry.”
“Kill her? They weren’t—that isn’t what they told me.” He leaned back against the wall, stunned.
“They confessed, mortal,” the puca said gently. “It seems you weren’t informed of the whole truth.” It paused. “I don’t understand why they would even think to try. She overthrew Maeve, everyone knows how dangerous she is.”
I nodded my agreement to the question, looking intently at Thomas. He met my gaze for a second, then sighed. “You’re entitled to know by now, I guess,” he said. “Why all this happened, why we were so desperate for Dietrich to win.” I leaned forward. Yes, please. Thomas glanced at the puca. “I need you to promise not to discuss what I’m about to say with anyone, particularly any fae,” he said. “If by some chance we survive this. It isn’t common knowledge, and it needs to stay that way as long as possible.”
The puca huffed. “Why is everyone making me promise not to speak about things? You’re the second one today.”
“Who was the first?” asked Thomas, puzzled.
It sniffed. “Obviously I can’t tell you, since I promised not to speak about it.” Thomas frowned, but didn’t press. The puca’s floppy ears flicked in annoyance. “Very well, then,” it said. “I won’t tell anyone about whatever it is you’re going to tell us. Until it does become common knowledge, anyway.”
Thomas hesitated, then apparently decided this was good enough. “All right,” he said quietly. “It’s the worldlines.” He swallowed. “All over Europe. They’re… they’re failing.” I stared at him, the implications of this starting to trickle through my mind. The things keeping fae and mortality separate were failing?
“But that’s excellent!” the puca said, ears perking. “Do you know how difficult it is to visit your world these days? I’ve missed it.”
“I’m sure you have,” said Thomas flatly. “You and every dullahan, wight, kelpie, troll, and Unseelie monster that would like to pay mortality a visit.” I felt faint, and not just from the combined exhaustion and hunger that had been plaguing me for days. Thomas’ words from when he first explained worldlines to me came back to mind. How the worlds bled into one another, how mortals would stumble into fae territory, how easy it was for dark fae to find mortal victims. He turned back to me. “Aerenia’s causing it, though we still don’t know how, exactly. The plan was—what Mitchell told me the plan was, anyway—to get Dietrich in place to stop her. There’s an enormous amount of power, figurative and literal, that comes from being a ruler of one of the Great Courts. He would have been able to ally with the other Greater Fae, and anchor the worldlines in place anew.” He shook his head. “But we’ve failed.” He put his head back in his hands. “It’s our job, my job to help protect mortals, but now… So many people are going to die,” he said softly. “Once the worldlines fall… our world, it’s going to be a waking nightmare.” He slumped. “We were supposed to stop it.” I placed a paw on his knee again. It was meant to be consoling, but he looked at me for just an instant before turning away as if pained. I drew back. I wasn’t helping; likely he just saw me as the first of what would be many casualties of fae malice.
The puca tapped its hoof against the tunnel wall. “Stop being so dreary,” it said. “You’re alive. You can still do something, so long as that’s the case.”
“Like what?” asked Thomas hopelessly. “I can’t fight my way out of here. We’ll die as soon as we ru
n into the first obstacle.”
“So you don’t have a Shadow. It doesn’t mean you’re helpless. Just use her,” the puca said, tilting its head my way. I shot it a startled look.
“What?” asked Thomas, brow furrowing. “She doesn’t have any magical abilities, you know that.”
“She doesn’t have to. She’s practically a magical wellspring right now. Just look at her, she’s blazing.” The puca shrugged. “Draw the energy to spellcast off the curse. It’s got plenty to spare.”
Thomas shook his head. “That’s…” He sounded like he was going to say ‘ridiculous,’ but then he paused. He regarded me, frowning. “That’s… kind of brilliant, actually.”
“I know,” the puca said, sounding rather pleased with itself.
Thomas looked at me, and I felt my ears flatten in apprehension. “Samantha, I’m going to try siphoning energy off that spell. The puca’s right; it’s pre-channeled magical energy, and I may be able to redirect some of it for my own use,” he said. “If it hurts you, even a little, just—yelp, or something. I’ll stop.”
I considered this, then nodded, firming up my resolve. I was not going to yelp, or in any way indicate that I was hurting. I wasn’t about to let some misguided sense of concern on Thomas’ part stop him from using the one advantage that might get us out of here alive.
Thomas closed his eyes, and I braced myself. A soft light with no discernable source filled the tunnel around us. I felt—nothing. There was a faint prickling sensation over my body, but that was it. I slumped, relieved.
“Anything?” Thomas asked. The light faded, and I shook my head. “Thank goodness,” he said. For the first time, there was cautious hope in his expression. “All right. Maybe… Maybe if we’re quick, and don’t attract too much attention…” He looked at me, then nodded, as if steeling himself.
The puca nudged him with its nose. “Let’s go.”
Thomas stood. He made a quick motion to dispel the wards again. “This way,” he said.
“How do you know?” the puca asked, as we both trotted alongside him.
“Tracing spell,” said Thomas. “There’s an absurd amount of magic down here, but only some of it feels specifically like Aerenia. She didn’t do all this personally. But she wouldn’t have left the spell at the center to anyone else.” He glanced at me. “Of course, I have to block out another one of her spells now, to focus on the one at the center…”
I shrugged apologetically. “Not your fault,” Thomas said in response. There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of the puca’s hooves against the stone. “Sam… I’m so sorry,” he said again after a moment, his voice low. “Mitchell, he really didn’t want…” His voice caught. “He never wanted to see you harmed. It was just… he was so afraid that we wouldn’t be allowed to even compete, that Aerenia would be suspicious, and if we failed…” He trailed off. “I’m sorry. You should never have been caught up in all of this.”
I sighed, quickening my pace. I wasn’t feeling terribly forgiving right then, but I also had bigger problems on my mind than holding a grudge, however justified it might be. Besides, this seemed like a conversation that should wait until, I don’t know, I could talk as well?
Thomas fell silent, and we continued on our way. After a time, the tunnel opened to an enormous cavern, so large I couldn’t make out the ceiling. Before us stretched a forest of stone trees, leafless and bare. The cavern was utterly silent. A strange, musky scent lingered in the air, though I wasn’t sure if I could only pick it up because of my newly improved nose. We paused, hesitant.
“All right,” said Thomas, barely audible. “I’m going to spell myself for silence—you two should be fine, if you’ll shift to something without hooves, puca.” The puca obligingly transformed into a raven. It fluttered into the air and landed on Thomas’ shoulder. Thomas touched each of his feet quickly, then stood upright. “There’s almost certainly something dangerous in there, so keep close,” he said. I examined the ground, which wasn’t hard, since it was now only about a foot and a half from my eye level. It was weirdly pitted, and had a faint acrid scent. I wrinkled my nose and fell in step with Thomas, padding silently along beside him.
The room was lit with a peculiar ambient light with no readily identifiable source. I strained my ears, but I couldn’t hear anything. The cavern was a silent as a crypt, and had the same eerie quality. My hackles rose involuntarily, but I pressed along, trying to ignore the creeping sense of danger. Some of the stone trees were broken, shattered as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to them. The musky scent was getting stronger, and the pitting in the floor was becoming more pronounced. After a time, a tingling sensation began to affect the pads of my feet, but it quickly escalated to feel more like burning, as if I had stepped in something acidic. Whatever was in here, we were getting closer to it. I shook off my front paw, then cut in front of Thomas, turning to face him, and he stopped, looking at me questioningly. I adopted a pose like a hunting dog pointing, indicating that we should keep to the edge of the cavern. It felt ridiculous, but apparently got the message across, because he nodded and adjusted his course, moving to the right.
There was a cracking sound behind us, and we all jumped, the puca fluttering its wings to keep its balance. We looked around quickly, but couldn’t see anything for the thickness of the stone trees and bushes. Thomas, pale, tilted his head, indicating that we should keep moving.
Something huge burst through the trees, a dark, hulking shape. It squealed and charged us.
Thomas shouted in alarm, making a sweeping motion with both hands. The creature’s legs flew out from beneath it, and it crashed to the ground with a thud that shook the cavern. In the second that it was down, I was able to identify it; a boar the size of a horse, with silver bristles and a single curled tusk. “Run!” Thomas shouted at me, and we both took off, the puca flying alongside. The boar gave an enraged squeal as it staggered to its feet, then charged after us.
Apparently foxes are much faster than humans, because I quickly gained a lead on Thomas. Heart pounding, I looped around in a tight circle, darting back towards the boar. I cut directly in front of it before streaking off in another direction. The boar skidded, slamming into a tree trunk as it did, then changed course, coming after me instead. I made a hairpin turn, narrowly escaping being gored with its gleaming tusk as I dashed past it.
“Sam!” I careened back towards Thomas, who was climbing one of the trees. The boar let out an awful, shrieking squeal as it crashed through the petrified brush after us. I leapt at Thomas, who caught me with his free hand, then tossed me higher in the branches. I scrambled for purchase against the stone bark while Thomas hauled himself up behind me, panting. The puca, still a raven, landed on the branch beside Thomas. The boar trotted around the base of the tree, snorting. Its rank, angry scent was overwhelming.
“Ysgithyrwyn,” Thomas gasped out. Well, great, I thought, chest heaving. Now we knew the monster’s name. Very helpful. “I can’t believe she captured that thing for this.”
“She certainly spared no effort,” the puca agreed, looking down with concern. The boar was still circling. “What are you going to do, sorcerer?”
“I don’t know,” Thomas said, still breathing heavily. “Can you change to something bigger?”
“Bigger than Ysgithyrwin? You’ll have to do better than that.”
“Okay, just—just give me a second to think.” The boar backed up several paces, then charged the tree, slamming into it. The whole thing shuddered, as did several of its neighbors. I clamped my teeth around a branch for support as the boar circled back around for another charge. It rammed the tree again. When it backed up, it shook itself. Little flecks of moisture sprayed from its pelt as it did so, and I heard a quiet hissing noise as the acrid scent from before assaulted my nose. Thomas swore under his breath.
“Venomous bristles. I forgot about that.”
Oh, because an enraged giant magical boar isn’t bad enough! I was really starting to hate Aer
enia. The boar slammed into the tree, jolting us. A sharp splintering noise sounded, and I peered down to see a deep crack appearing in the trunk. Flakes of stone fell from it with a chinking sound. I gulped, looking at Thomas.
“I don’t suppose you know the answer?” the puca asked hopefully. “To the fox’s riddle, I mean.”
“What?” Thomas asked, sending the puca a disbelieving look as another shudder ran through the tree. “No.”
“I didn’t think so,” it said, hanging its head. It spread its wings. “Good luck, mortals.” With that, it took off.
“Are you joking?” Thomas shouted as it sailed away, vanishing among the trees. He looked at me. “All right, stay calm. I can handle this.” He sounded like he was trying to persuade himself more than me. The boar rammed the tree again, and Thomas slipped. I yelped, frightened, as he reestablished his grip on the branch, pulling himself back up. There was an ominous cracking sound, and the tree began to list to one side.
Thomas closed his eyes in intense concentration. The boar slammed the side of its body against the trunk, then abruptly gave a coughing, hacking grunt. Thomas tightened his grip on the tree branch, eyes still clenched shut. The boar stumbled, then wheeled around for another charge. It ran at the tree and crashed into it, but with much less force than before. It shook its bulky head—then screamed as an arrow plunged into its side.
Thomas jerked back to awareness. The boar stumbled to one side drunkenly, turning toward its new attacker as another arrow whistled through the air, this one finding its mark in the boar’s skull. It dropped.
I turned to see three figures about fifty yards away running towards us. Thomas jumped down from his perch, drawing his knives as he landed beside the dead boar. I jumped down as well, glancing gracelessly off his shoulder before I hit the ground. I skipped to one side, finding a patch of ground free of the boar’s venom.
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