Shadow grail 1

by Mercedes Lackey; Rosemary Edghill

  Spirit just stared down at her plate and shoved her eggs around with a piece of toast. While she was grateful to Muirin for the quick save, she did wish Muirin had been less cruel about it.

  “It’s okay,” Burke said quietly. “You don’t have to.”

  “I’d love to,” Spirit said defiantly. She liked Burke a lot. At least with Burke she didn’t have to watch her back—like she did with most of the Oakhurst boys—or try to figure out what he meant by anything—the way she did with the other ones. Even Loch. She trusted Loch, more or less, but she didn’t understand him at all.

  Once breakfast was over, Spirit wasn’t sure whether to spend time with the others or avoid them. She was too nervous about tonight to read or to work on any of her homework assignments, and too irritable to go outside and take “advantage” of their vacation time the way the other students were. Instead, she wandered around indoors for a while and then ended up back in her room. Only that turned out not to be a good choice either, as Kristi and Madison both came and asked if they could use her room to stash presents in until Christmas, and then Sarah Ellis came looking for Kristi because they were going to go skating, and by that time Spirit gave up and went and hid in the back of the Library until lunch.

  At lunch everybody was talking about how Claire Grissom had fallen while she was out skating and broken her ankle. Mr. Bridges had driven her to the hospital in Radial.

  Or had he?

  “When Kylee broke her arm in karate a couple of weeks ago, she didn’t have to go to Radial,” Spirit said carefully. “In fact, Claire Healed her.”

  “No,” Loch said slowly. “She didn’t, did she? And Claire’s not the only Healing Mage here.” His expression was grim, and Spirit knew that he was thinking the same thing she was: Claire was tonight’s Tithe to the Wild Hunt.

  “But that was different,” Addie countered. Spirit couldn’t tell whether Addie was speaking for Spirit’s benefit—or for the benefit of whatever unseen listeners they might have. “Claire’s a Healing Mage. It’s a lot harder to Heal a Healing Mage than it is to Heal a regular person. And if their Healing Gift is strong enough, it’s impossible.”

  “Sucks, huh?” Muirin said, reaching for her cup.

  “In a word,” Loch agreed.

  During lunch Loch complained about the lack of proper winter sports equipment, saying that this was the perfect weather for cross-country skiing, and Muirin pointed out that you couldn’t ski very far before you were off the grounds, and Addie said she was tired of listening to the two of them squabble. When lunch was over, Burke said he was going to go practice, and nobody even asked what he was going to practice, since Burke did just about every sport Oakhurst had to offer.

  If Spirit had been restless in the morning, she was even more restless in the afternoon—but she felt as confined being indoors now as she’d been unwilling to venture out earlier. She went back to her room and changed into her heaviest outdoor clothes. Maybe a walk would clear her head.

  The brick walkways were clear as always—in fact, right now they radiated heat, as the Fire Witches had heated them to turn some stubborn ice into water that the Water Witches could whisk away. Which sure beat the heck out of having to shovel them, even if she did still think it was a little creepy. There hadn’t been a lot of sunny days lately—and when there had been, she’d been stuck inside studying—and the combination of bright blue sky and sunlight on white snow was dazzling. Despite the fact that the hours were ticking inexorably away until the time the Wild Hunt rode out, Spirit felt her mood lighten. For a little while she could almost pretend that tonight wasn’t going to come, because she’d spent the last four months learning about all the bad ways life was different at Oakhurst, but today seemed determined to show her there were good ways, too. She spent a solid fifteen minutes watching two groups of Air Mages having a snowball fight—only the way they did it, the snowballs hovered in midair between the two teams, buffeted back and forth on gusts of wind, until they finally fell apart.

  When she got tired of watching them, Spirit walked on, to where another group of kids were standing around a mound of snow. Bare patches on the ground and a couple of discarded snow shovels showed where the snow had come from. But why? . . .

  Suddenly the snow mound began collapsing inward, melting down into water, but before it could trickle away, it swirled upward. First into a column, and then making a lightning transformation through a dozen different shapes: tree, dancing figure, rearing horse, bird in flight, leaping tiger. Each shape was shimmering and transparent like the water it was composed of, and as realistic as if it were the living thing it was modeled after. Each new shape was greeted with laughter and cheering until at last the water took the form of a dragon with spread wings and arched neck. Amid whistles and applause, the glistening water of the draconic form silvered over as it was turned to glittering ice.

  But Spirit had only a moment to admire the ice dragon before the unbalanced weight of its own form fragmented it. The delicate outstretched wings snapped off and shattered, the head broke from the slender coiled neck, and the whole sculpture lurched to one side, toppled, and shattered. Its fall was greeted by groans of disappointment from the onlookers, then the Fire Witches began melting the ice so they could begin the game again.

  Of course, not everyone who was enjoying the winter holiday was using magic to get pleasure from it. There were ordinary snowball fights going on, and Spirit even saw a couple of snowmen, looking a little odd decked out in Oakhurst caps and scarves. But she didn’t want to get into a snowball fight with anyone, and the snowmen only reminded her of building snowmen with Phoenix. She walked quickly past them, staring straight ahead.

  Spirit was a little surprised to find that she’d walked all the way down to the train station. Surprised—and cold. But it was interesting to see that the tracks were completely clear of snow, just as the walkways were. She glanced back over her shoulder at the house, then along the tracks. Even if there is a full moon tonight, if someone took the path down to the train station, and then followed the tracks as far as they could before heading out into the snow, I bet their tracks wouldn’t be visible from the house. . . .

  Spirit had reason to be grateful for that forethought not too many hours later, as the four of them crept out of the classroom wing of the main building. Muirin had passed her a note at dinner, telling her to be ready to go at eleven. Dorm curfew was at ten, lights out was at eleven . . . but somehow Spirit suspected nobody would look too closely at anyone sneaking out on a night that the Tithe to the Wild Hunt had to be paid.

  We’re only hoping it’s just one teacher who’s working for the Bad Guys. It could be two, or three, or half a dozen. And it isn’t as if we even know what their Mage Gifts are!

  But she could worry about that later. If she worried about it now, she’d make mistakes she couldn’t afford to make. “Never borrow trouble,” Dad always said. “The world gives enough of it away free.”

  Oh, God, she just wanted to go home.

  But you don’t have a home anymore, remember? Spirit told herself viciously. The Bad Guys took it away from you. They sent a monster to kill you, and all they managed to do was kill your whole family instead. And someday you’ll be able to pay them back. But you have to survive Oakhurst first.

  So she was waiting in her room, dressed and ready to go, when Muirin came to get her.

  To Spirit’s surprise, they didn’t go directly out of the building, but into the classroom wing and then down to the basement. Muirin opened the door to one of the practice rooms. Addie was already there, and so was Burke.

  Spirit was distracted from wondering where Loch was by the sight of Burke, because he had a shotgun under one arm and he looked as if he certainly knew how to use it. “I, uh, what?” she said.

  “Skeet shooting,” Burke explained. “There’s a whole room full of shotguns and rifles here. It wasn’t too hard to get in and borrow one, especially since I’m on the rifle team and the skeet-shooting team during t
he season. Talking Muirin out of her skeleton keys—twice—now that was the hard part, but I figured I was going to need it.” He pulled a shotgun shell out of his pocket and held it up. “They’re filled with salt,” he explained simply. “Blessed salt. I’ve been making them all week. Should have enough to take out a whole army of ghosts without having to get too close.”

  “Technically you ‘lay’ a ghost,” Addie said pedantically. She picked up her own “weapon” from the table and brandished it. “Meanwhile, this should take care of any elves we meet.”

  “Say hello to my little friend,” Muirin said, and snickered.

  Spirit blinked in perplexity at Addie’s choice of armament: It was a large green-and-silver plastic thing that looked like a sci-fi movie ray gun. She wondered where Addie could have gotten it on such short notice.

  “A Super Soaker with a modified pressure relief valve, increased aperture, and a four-liter reservoir. It has maybe a fifteen-yard range, but fortunately I’m not limited to its range—and there are enough iron filings in the water to send any elf, fay, or fairy I hit with it straight back to the Hollow Hills with its tail tucked between its legs. It’s a good thing Oakhurst has a metal shop,” Addie said. “Believe it or not, this is actually something I borrowed from the lab. There are times when it’s good to be a Water Witch.”

  “Me, I’m going with a slingshot and some iron balls. They used to be glass marbles, but . . . I’ve got connections.” Muirin smirked. “Too bad illusions won’t be much use tonight.”

  “Okay, we’re all here, let’s go,” Burke said, ignoring Muirin’s last comment. “Spirit, maybe you could carry that? Loch told me he was going to need it.”

  He gestured at the table. There was still a leaf blower sitting on it, one of the self-contained gas-powered kind. “But . . . where is he?” Spirit asked. “Aren’t we waiting for him?”

  “He’s already up there,” Burke said grimly. “He’s been sneaking up there for days to work on the spell-trap, but he said he wanted to put the finishing touches on it tonight.”

  Spirit felt horribly exposed as she walked out of the building with the others. What if someone saw them carrying all this stuff? The moon was full and bright, and there were still lights on in the main building.

  “Don’t you get it yet?” Muirin said, seeing her expression. “Nobody’s going to stop us. There are eight nights of the year that somebody on this campus is sure to make it easy for anyone who wants to go out of bounds. Why not? I bet an extra Tithe or two only makes things better for whoever’s doing this.”

  Spirit swallowed hard. Muirin was right. She wondered where Claire Grissom was right now. Out there somewhere shivering with fear and cold and pain? Unconscious? She couldn’t be dead: If there was one thing that Spirit had picked up from all the lore about the Wild Hunt, it was that it ignored dead things.

  They followed the brick walkways down to the little private train station, then walked along the tracks for about half a mile. This far away from everything, the wind cut like a knife, and even in her warm clothes, Spirit shivered constantly. She was surprised—and grateful—to find, when they finally had to abandon the tracks to head for the stand of pines, that the snow was only a few inches deep.

  “The wind blows it and scours it off the open plain. It piles up around the buildings, because the buildings are the only things out here to stop it,” Burke said, when she exclaimed in surprise. “It shouldn’t be too deep out here for a few weeks yet.”

  At least something’s going right tonight, Spirit thought. She did her best to smother the thought, hoping it wouldn’t jinx everything else that was going to happen.

  Loch was waiting for them in the tiny pine forest. The moonlight was bright enough that even under the trees he was plainly visible. “Oh, good,” he said, taking the leaf blower from Spirit. “You brought it.”

  “No,” Muirin said. “We thought we’d just leave it behind and ruin your plans.”

  “Fun-nee,” Loch said, deadpan. He set the leaf blower carefully behind a tree. Spirit looked around, but she couldn’t see anything anywhere that looked like the drawing of the spell-trap she’d seen in Loch’s notes.

  Loch looked at the others. “Okay. I guess we’re ready.”

  “Except for . . . how do we make sure the Hunt comes after us—and not after somebody else?” Addie asked.

  This is a fine time to wonder that! Spirit thought, even as she realized that hadn’t occurred to her, either. What if they just missed them?

  “North,” Loch said with certainty, glancing toward the white pillar that marked the edge of the school bounds. “Just head north and keep heading north. The Hunt should show up pretty quick as soon as we’re off the school grounds—and outside the wards.”

  Burke nodded, and pulled off his heavy gloves, exposing the thin glove liners underneath them. He stuffed a hand into his pocket and pulled out two shells, dropping them into the barrels of the shotgun he held. When he slammed it shut, the sound echoed through the trees with a terrible finality.

  With Burke in the lead, they stepped from beneath the shadow of the trees and began walking north.

  ELEVEN

  Spirit knew it was probably her imagination that made the night suddenly seem colder the moment the five of them passed the boundary stone. The wards were impalpable, intangible spell barriers that only served to keep baneful creatures and uninvited guests outside them. Magicians would experience a ward as a barrier as real and solid as a stone wall. Normal non-magical people would simply choose not to go through a ward—and their minds would come up with a dozen different reasons why. They’d forget where they were going, or get lost, or think of something they suddenly needed to do somewhere else, or even get sick and need to leave.

  All that aside, there was no way any Oakhurst student would actually be affected by them. The wards weren’t designed to keep anyone in, nor were they designed to keep the Oakhurst students out. No, thinking she could feel them was only nerves.

  Their boots crunched over the frozen surface of the snow as they walked, and the night air was so utterly still that the sound of their footsteps was the loudest sound there was. The full moon was almost directly overhead, and the stars were brilliant in the clear night sky. They were so far from any city that the Milky Way was even visible.

  When they’d gone about a hundred yards from the trees, Muirin stopped, reached into her pocket, and made a tossing motion.

  “What’s that?” Spirit asked, her voice barely a whisper. She’d seen something leave Muirin’s hand, and heard a faint pattering sound as something hit the icy unbroken crust of the snow, but she wasn’t sure what Muirin had thrown. She knew she didn’t have to whisper out here—no one from Oakhurst could hear them, and whatever else was out here was something they wanted to hear them, but in the utter silence she couldn’t help it.

  “Shoeing nails,” Muirin said, and Spirit noticed that Muirin was whispering, too. “You know, like for shoeing horses? Soft iron, and the lore mentions horseshoe nails—specifically—a lot. There’s a whole big keg of them down in the stable. They won’t miss a few.”

  Muirin stopped to scatter them again when they’d walked on for a few more minutes. “We’re going to feel pretty stupid if all that happens is we end up walking all the way to Radial,” she said.

  She was about to keep walking when Spirit grabbed her arm. “Wait,” she said. “Listen. Do you hear it? Horns.” The sound was so faint she could barely hear it, even in the silence: a mellow sweet sound that reminded her of French horns. It was so beautiful that she took a step toward it, wanting to hear it better.

  “There aren’t any roads out here,” Muirin said, suddenly sounding rattled.

  “Not car horns,” Burke replied grimly. “Hunting horns.”

  “I don’t hear anything,” Addie said nervously.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Burke answered bleakly. “I do. And so does Spirit.”

  Suddenly Spirit felt the first faint breath of wind touch h
er cheek. The horns sounded again—louder, closer—and abruptly she felt a wild stab of panic. They were doing this all wrong! They’d never stopped to think—if just meeting up with the Wild Hunt drove you insane, how were they supposed to destroy it?

  “Only the Wild Hunt’s actual victims can hear the horns of the Hunt,” Loch said. He didn’t just sound nervous, Spirit realized with another pang of fear, he sounded terrified. “I never counted on one of us hearing—being—” He gulped. “Look. We might be in real trouble here. We’d better—”

  “Listen!” Muirin cried, her voice cracking.

  In the distance they could hear the sound of engines.

  A lot of them.

  We need to get back to the trees!” Loch cried frantically.

  The current of air Spirit had felt earlier wasn’t just a faint breeze now. It was an actual wind, ice cold and skin-numbing, blowing straight from the north. She glanced at Burke. He looked grimly determined.

  “No,” she said quickly, hating the way her voice shook. “If we turn and run, we’re doing just what they want. If we run, we’ll panic, and if we panic, we’ll forget what we have to do. We can’t give in to fear. We have to—” She broke off as a chorus of howls filled the night, momentarily drowning out the sound of engines. The howls seemed to echo inside her skull, half wolf-howls, half too-human screams of agony. “We have to see what they are,” she finished in a shaking whisper. But inside, it felt like everything was turning into cold water. They know about us. They’re coming for us.

  Only Burke stood still. Loch was edging back the way they’d come and so was Muirin. Even Addie looked as if she was going to drop her Super Soaker at any moment.

  If they broke and ran—

  Every horror movie she’d ever seen told her what would happen. Separate and run and everyone dies. She dug deep inside herself and found one tiny crumb of courage. Maybe I’m going to die, but I won’t let them get the others!