Talon nodded thoughtfully, then turned back to me, waiting.
I frowned. The strange, rusty-haired Fae had been following us. We’d seen him twice now. But he neither attacked nor approached. Almost as if greeting friends from afar, but to do so twice? And the odd motion of showing us his fingers from a distant hilltop was baffling.
None of us had understood the bizarre motion. It was uncivilized. I dismissed it, staring back at the mountain Talon had pointed out just ahead. My mountain. Talon sighed. Respectfully, as always, but something was troubling him. He would tell me later, when no one else was near enough to overhear. He would not shame me in front of the others with criticism or advice. He knew better. But I had always valued his opinion.
Beast Master grunted, gaze calculating as she stared at the cavern fortress before us. Green fog slowly began to eddy around her feet as she lost focus. I coughed, and she grunted in embarrassment, the fog dissipating in a heartbeat.
I touched my temple with one finger, a dismissal of her shame. No harm done, it said.
She returned the gesture, slightly different, with two fingers. Thank you.
A cavern lay at the base of a large mulch-coated mountain that sparkled with precious-metaled trees. Neon-blue frost-water coated the peaks, and the copper trees glinted in the light of the different moons, frostcicles hanging as long as swords from their branches.
Wulfra sniffed the air, then began panting eagerly, likely thinking of food over conquest. I snapped my finger and she shifted to a whine, the ruff of her neck flaring a bit in both shame and instinctive defense. I nodded, dismissing her unintentional slight. Wulfra was exceptional in the hunt, but needed to be restrained more often than not. She was too wild, at times.
I began to laugh.
Weren’t we all?
Shaking my head, I began walking. Talon stepped up beside me, his velvet boots making not a sound as they deftly stepped from rock to rock, never leaving a trail. Because his boots were designed for just such a skill. A gift he had once received.
I wished I still had some of my gifts. I could almost remember them…
But until then, I would just have to acquire some new ones.
My eyes latched onto the cave entrance ahead. Those caverns would be deep. And if the gem seeds reflecting the moonlight on the mountain were any indication, treasures galore filled the belly of the mountain.
And it would soon be mine.
I glanced back at a muttered curse and saw Elder Carl frowning as he tugged at the back of his neck. I made a chuffing sound, and everyone stopped, turning to look.
Elder Carl tugged harder at the base of his neck and ripped free a large swath of dead skin. As he held it out before him, inspecting it, I suddenly laughed, pointing at his neck.
Where he had torn away the old, dead skin, a scaled fan of horned flesh now flared, making a shielded crest around his neck, like a mane of scales and horn. He reached back to touch it and gasped. A stream meandered through the ground beside us, and Elder Carl quickly dropped the hunk of dead skin and darted up to the water to catch a view of his reflection. I left him to it, resuming our walk beside Talon.
Elder Carl hooted behind us, obviously appreciating his evolution. It had been about time. I had known Elders half his age with a crest. Late bloomer. But I also hadn’t met an Elder of any age with even half his level of skill in the Dance of Bones – what his people called their sword forms.
After a short while, we reached the mouth of the cavern. Talon hesitated, sniffing the air.
The land was barren around the entrance, no metal trees, no serpentine vines, and no walking rocks. None of the usual life that nested near mulch-coated mountains.
I lowered my hands to my sides, suddenly anticipatory.
“A welcome, I think…” I murmured, sensing a presence approaching.
Talon purred beside me, fingering his poleaxe as a dozen green creatures crept out of the shadows of the cavern. Their unblemished skin shone in the moonlight, and yellow teeth greeted us as they grinned politely.
“Welcome, Wylde. Our Master has been expecting you…” one said in a low tone.
I leaned closer, sneering. “I am the Master…” And something about the name felt right, like it was mine. Just like Wylde. Was it a name I had forgotten, something tied to my old gifts? I hid my confusion, not wanting to show weakness here – to the green creatures or my Band. The goblins shared a look, not afraid, but considering. They must have heard that name of mine before, Master. Then they placed their palms flat on their chests, a symbol of servitude and peace. I nodded. “Lead on, goblins.”
They did.
And my Band followed me into the darkness.
Chapter 18
We didn’t walk long through the wide caverns of white, shining stone. The white stone was fairly standard for a mulch-coated mountain, where the soil was not full of clay and gravel, but long, thin strips of bark that grew from the ground like weeds. But the gems peeking out of the stone walls were not common. Not anymore. They pulsated with light as we neared, then faded away as we passed. And there were hundreds of them.
Stonelights.
This place would definitely have treasures for me. I hadn’t seen a mulch-coated mountain – or wooden mountain as some called them – still retaining its Stonelights in a long time. They were usually mined at first discovery.
As we walked, I tried to recall where I had left my gifts, and why I had chosen these strange clothes over my usual shadow armor and cloak. Maybe the absence of my gifts was causing the strange sensations inside. Forgetting my Names. That voice trying to tell me that something was wrong.
But that would all change in moments. I would build a new Name in this place. Rebuild my reputation. My core. Because that was important. A man needed to know his own Name.
And his enemies needed to know it, too.
Or else we… faded.
I shivered at that. The only thing that I was truly afraid of.
The goblins leading us filed to either side of a massive stone door, lowering their gazes as we walked between them. They held out an arm to the door, the other arm placed palm down over their chest in submission. I grunted, disgusted. Too much submission was sickening. Weak.
I assessed the door, appreciating the beauty of the rippling stone. It reminded me of when I had been a youngling, staring out at the oceans of rock – rippling and undulating for leagues and leagues beyond the shore of my home. I had even heard that the stone shifted to white water at some point in the far distance. An ocean… of water! How ridiculous! Everyone knew that true water could only collect inland.
I had also heard that an island sat in the middle of that white water. A white island. With a white palace perched on a cliff. And that a true monster of a Manling lived there…
But those were just myths, of course. Manling Tales. Stories the Fae told their children.
I shivered involuntarily at some whispered inner thought. I am a Manling.
I didn’t let my surprise show, but I suddenly felt very confused. How had I been a Manling in the Land of the Fae? And how had I forgotten such a crime? I carefully scanned my Band, wondering if they knew this about me. Or if they had also suffered some version of memory loss. Surely, they would have slit my throat while I slept if they knew I was a Manling. A monster.
Only Talon was staring at me. He nodded one time, and then placed his open paws against his chest very deliberately.
I curled back my lip, a challenge, but he continued pressing his paws into his chest, silver eyes pleading. He knew. Knew I was a vile Manling, and still obeyed. That… that didn’t make any sense. I brushed three fingers from lips to chin in a flippant gesture, warning him for good measure. He nodded, then flexed his paws, his claws biting through his armor and into his flesh, drawing blood. A sign of undying loyalty. I almost embraced him with two pats to the belly for that, but I knew he wouldn’t appreciate it.
His kind never did like more than one pat.
Eld
er Carl sniffed the air suddenly, sensing the fresh blood, but his gaze latched onto the goblins as he settled into an aggressive stance. Talon lifted a paw and lapped at the blood, then wiped the resulting saliva across the shallow wounds on his chest. They instantly closed, and I saw Elder Carl sniff the air with a nervous frown. I hated that his saliva couldn’t do that for others. It would be a handy trick for battle, being able to cure wounds with a lick.
I dipped my head at Talon, letting him know I had heard his message, but that I would remain wary. It was a sign of respect. Talon grinned suddenly, approving of my compliment. I snapped my fingers and Elder Carl flinched. His shoulders only relaxed after he saw no concern in my eyes, and then he turned his attention back to the door.
Whatever the blood had been, The Master had just told him it didn’t matter. Wylde had spoken. So, it didn’t matter to him any longer.
Blind trust. And respect.
But as I turned back to the still rippling stone door, watching the tides of rock and gravel splash back and forth as if under a raging storm, I found myself very troubled. How had I forgotten such a thing about myself? Being a Manling? Forgotten my past? And what about this place had made me suddenly remember it?
The memory of that cursed rust-haired man showing us his fingers from a distance troubled me. I growled to myself, throwing out a hand, because when I was troubled, I broke things. Decimated things.
The blast of power from my hand struck the center of the door like a piece of wood thrown in a stone ocean – the two elements incompatible. The center blasted forward under the pressure, and ripples exploded out from the blast, splashing onto the walls, spraying the goblins with droplets of gravel. They screamed as the razor-sharp stone ripped those in front to shreds. The others didn’t move, merely waited.
The door broke under my blast, and an avalanche of sand and gravel splashed to the floor of the cavern, sinking into an unseen grate before it could splash over my Band. Of course, I wouldn’t have let it do so, but it was nice that I didn’t have to concern myself with it.
Haunting, piping music drifted to our ears from beyond the opening, and without further thought, I strode through. The goblins followed at a safe distance, eyes downcast as Beast Master and Wulfra snarled a warning. They kept their hands to their chests, and never lifted their eyes, looking meek and subdued, even though everyone knew goblins considered pixies to be delicacies and murdered everything else for fun.
We entered a vast auditorium large enough to fit a palace inside without touching the ceiling. Wave after wave of goblins sat on the floor, facing us, eyes downcast, also with hands to chests. I didn’t slow, striding down the auditorium in a path between the two masses of goblins, like a royal carpet.
Ahead of me sat a throne.
And on that throne sat a king.
Great antlers like that of a White Stag protruded from the sides of his skull, easily two sword-blades tall and wide, and dozens of points on horn. And they were stained brown, but with white tips. The antlers seemed to grow and shrink at random, like a nest of serpents.
A white-spotted goblin stood beside the throne, glaring at me. He looked bigger than his brethren. Not by much, but he also wore nicer hides, with a bit of blue fur lining the edges. I dismissed him. He was beneath my attention, even if this king obviously valued him above others.
The king wore the oddest clothes I had ever seen, but they fit him perfectly. Then again, he was a king, and could wear whatever he pleased during his season of reign.
Until a new season was born, and a new king emerged…
The cloth of his ensemble shone, not a loose thread in sight, despite the harsh environment of a cavern. Surely, it would have torn against stone. But it was crisp, precise, and had nary a wrinkle in sight. The pants had a sharp folded crease down the center of each leg, and his feet were bare. A blinding white shirt was tucked into his pants, and a glaring red strip of fabric hung down from a similarly-crisp folded collar buttoned close to his neck. The red cloth seemed to look like a very meticulous knot at the throat. Was that a subtle challenge? To wear a noose around your throat, daring your enemy? Over the shirt was draped a well-fitting coat that matched the pants, and a band of gold adorned his wrist.
I noticed a faint, repetitive ticking, and cocked my head, the sound familiar for some reason.
A watch. A suit. Armani, most likely… I barely managed to hide my gasp as the voice struck like a whip. Was it trying to tell me the man’s name? Armani? But the voice was gone.
I jerked my head, staring the king straight in the eyes. His face was entirely normal, like mine, but not a whisker marked his jaw. Entirely clean shaven. Which was unheard of. Who wanted to look like a woman?
Except… Fae did unusual things like that. In the Royal Courts. This man works for the Queens… I found that I was snarling in disgust.
The king took one look at me, and then began to laugh.
My Band instantly bristled at the challenge, the mockery.
I readied myself to redecorate the halls of my new throne in blood…
Kingkiller would be a nice, fresh Name to start with…
Chapter 19
The king held up a hand before I could move. “My, my, my… That took a hold of you rather quickly, didn’t it?” he said, eyes twinkling.
I opened my mouth to shout for my Band to attack goblins, and to leave no survivors.
The king was mine. And I wanted that shiny band on his wrist. It looked… appealing.
But the king flung out an empty hand, and a wave of power washed over us.
We collapsed to our knees, gasping, shivering, and huddled together in a tight mass.
“Stop!” a voice commanded. I peeled open an eye to see a horde of goblins staring down at us, licking their lips hungrily.
“What the fuck?” I shouted, scrambling to my feet, prepared for an ambush. My eyes darted about wildly, and I saw that Tory and Ashley did the same, both utterly naked, hair a mess of sweaty tangles as if they hadn’t brushed it in a few weeks. Or washed it. Hadn’t they looked different a minute ago? They locked eyes with me, looking terrified, confused, and very, very concerned at the army of goblins staring at us like we were grilled steaks.
Where the hell were we?
I turned my head to see Carl shaking his head as if at a bad smell. He had a horned crest behind his neck, and it was currently clicking like a rattlesnake. He didn’t look as bewildered, but more as if he had woken from a pleasant dream. I turned to look for Sir Muffle Paws… No, that’s not right. He had asked me to call him…
“Talon… the Devourer,” the same voice I had heard a few seconds ago said as my eyes locked on my… cat? But he wasn’t a cat. He looked right, as if wearing his favorite clothes. In fact, he stood as I had last seen him – a bipedal warrior feline. He held out his hands in a peaceful gesture. I blinked at him, shaking my head. Then I turned to the voice that had spoken.
And I saw the antlered man on the throne. I slowly began to remember, feeling as if I was two entirely different people. The man nodded slowly, hands in his suit pocket. “We have much to discuss…” he said after a long silence. “But first, we should clothe your friends.” His eyes glittered with amusement. “Unless they prefer their current state?” he asked with a leer.
They instantly stammered that they wanted clothes, covering themselves up with free hands as best they could. Oddly enough, everyone still had their packs.
“You… You’re Pan,” I said in a whisper, my mind juggling two realities. Two worlds.
The man shrugged. “I prefer Oberon, here. But, yes. We are…” his eyes grew distant, considering, “the same, Manling.”
“Master,” I mumbled, correcting him for some reason.
He grinned back. “Yes. Master Temple. Is it coming back now? You’ve had a taste of our lands. If you had taken any longer to get here, I might have grown concerned. Then again, it’s all part of the invitation. Still, it would have been disappointing. To fail so soon. You have so
much potential, you see…” he began to laugh to himself.
My mind raced as bits and pieces began coming back to me. Almost as if I was watching a movie of a different group of people. We had traversed the Land of the Fae like reunited, nomadic conquerors. A tribe. A band of killers. And we had relished in it. Because it had been our lives for years, almost since childhood. We had drifted apart for some time, and then suddenly been reunited this evening. No, that wasn’t right…
I shivered. What the literal fuck had Mallory brought us to?
“You did well, boy. You almost earned a new Name, but you skated past it. Like reaching for something on ice. By the time you missed it, you were already too far away to try again. That’s why I pressed us here faster. To see him,” Talon said in a respectful tone.
I glared at him, remembering that doppelganger of me, controlling my actions, my thoughts. It was… unbelievable. “That entire time… you knew?” I growled.
He nodded. “It is why I came. To watch your back.”
“Why didn’t you stop me. Stop us?” I shouted. “We just got blind-sided, believing in a reality – an entire life – that never existed!”
“Actively stopping you would have meant failure. I can only guide. Reminding you why you must proceed, or warning you why you must hold back will destroy the world as you know it.” He sounded ashamed, but resolute. “He has something for you, but you must earn it. It is an honor to be Invited. Even though you might not know it. Hundreds of years have passed since the Invitation has been given.”
I frowned at him, having no idea what he was talking about.
“Right. Well, I fancy something green, tiny, and medium-rare, so unless someone starts talking, we’re about to have a cookout,” I hissed, turning to glare at the goblins behind us.
Oberon snapped a command, and the goblins were instantly gone.
Wild Side: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 7 (The Temple Chronicles) Page 11