Fulstrom nodded. “Where will you be? We really need to know.”
“Finding new allies,” said Will. “I may be back by the time Sub-Marshal Nerrow gets here, or it may take me a few days more. Either way, don’t wait for me. Once our forces are together, start pushing for Myrsta once more. Move slowly and scout more than you ordinarily would. I believe the Darrowan military is essentially non-existent now, but I might be wrong. I was certainly wrong last time.”
Subcommander Terrell spoke next. “You’re certain the Patriarch is dead, sir? Are you sure we can trust your mysterious informant?”
He wasn’t alive to begin with, though Will. He wasn’t sure how long Grim Talek had been acting as the Patriarch, but it didn’t matter. “I don’t really trust the informant, but I’m certain he spoke truth. Myrsta is entirely in the hands of demons now.”
Subcommander Gravholt paled as he heard that news, but kept his silence. The former marshal of the Darrowan army had remained mostly quiet during the meeting to avoid antagonizing his former enemies.
Sub-Marshal Nicht had one more important question. “If we reach the capital before you return, do you want us to try and take it, or wait for you?”
“I don’t think you’ll even be able to approach it,” said Will. “If the demons have set up a spell-engine, the area around it will be lethal to humans. Let the sorcerers determine how close you can get and stop there. You may even have to withdraw some distance, depending on how long it is before I arrive.”
“How are we supposed to take the city if we can’t even enter it?” asked Fulstrom in dismay.
“You aren’t,” Will told him. “That’s why I’m going to get some help.”
In the end, he told them what he intended, and although they did indeed react with a mixture of incredulity and disgust, Will saw some hope in their eyes. After the meeting was over, he simply walked away, heading west until he reached the outer sentries. Tiny was waiting for him there.
“You aren’t seriously planning to run off on your own again?” asked his friend.
Will nodded. “I am.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“I already spoke with Captain Barrentine,” said Will. “He agreed you should stay here.”
“I’m reassigning myself then,” growled Tiny.
He sighed. “Janice is staying here.”
“So?”
“Did she forgive you?” Tiny’s red face was all the answer he needed. Will smiled. “Finally.” Summoning a regeneration potion from the limnthal, he handed it to his friend. “Thanks for the potion.”
“It was yours to begin with,” said Tiny, crossing his arms. “Stop changing the subject.”
“I’m not going into danger,” Will replied. “Not much anyway. Tailtiu will be with me.”
“That really doesn’t make me feel any better,” said Tiny sourly.
He explained his plan, and more importantly, his travel arrangements. “I’m going to be switching back and forth between planes with Tailtiu, and she’ll be carrying me. Strong as she is, she’s no Thunderturnip. I don’t think she can carry us both.” Will looked down the road, past Tiny’s shoulder. “Speaking of which, I think she’s here.”
A giant owl landed on the road, then transformed into Tailtiu’s slender, elfin form. She still carried the small cloth sack, and after transforming she opened it and dumped the puppy out onto the ground before walking toward them. The tiny canine trundled after her, tongue hanging out as he followed.
Tiny spoke before Will did. “You still have him.”
Tailtiu looked from the big warrior to Will. “He’ll always be mine.”
With a sigh, Will corrected the misunderstanding. “He’s referring to the puppy.”
Her brows went up. “Oh! You mean Dinner.” Bending over, she picked up the pup and stroked it gently while it licked the fingers of her other hand.
“You said you were going to eat him,” growled Tiny.
“I haven’t had much of an appetite,” she said insouciantly. “Besides, it would probably be better to wait until he’s fattened up some. He would hardly serve as even an appetizer at this size.”
Tiny started forward, but Will stepped into his path. The squire stared down at him with burning eyes, but Will held his ground. “Trust me,” was all he said.
The moment stretched out, but finally his friend answered, “Always. It’s her I don’t trust.”
“Take care of them. I’ll be back,” said Will.
“When?”
“Before it’s too late,” he responded. Tailtiu was silent as Will walked over to her, though her eyes never left him. “I need to go home,” he told her.
She considered him for a second. “Safely?”
“Quickly, safety be damned.”
His aunt scooped Dinner back into his sack and handed it to him. “Hold onto Dinner for me.” Then she transformed, becoming a large doe. Will had traveled with her in that form before, so he already knew what to do. As Tailtiu bent one foreleg, he scrambled onto her back.
A normal deer wouldn’t have been able to carry him, but Tailtiu’s deer form was uncommonly large. Will leaned forward and clutched the puppy under his right arm just before she leapt into motion and the world began to race away beneath her feet.
Chapter 53
They left Will’s home plane, Hercynia, and entered the fae realm within a few minutes and then entered an entirely foreign plane moments after that, which was something of a surprise to Will. Generally, when traveling through Faerie to get somewhere quickly, Tailtiu would only choose congruence points with Will’s home plane. The technique revolved around her perfect knowledge of every point of contact between the two worlds. Tailtiu (or any other fae) could pass between worlds at one congruence point, then pass back at another point that was far closer to their final destination than if they had chosen to simply travel directly there within the original plane.
What caught him off-guard was her use of planes he had never been to previously. “Some of these places are very dangerous for mortals,” she warned, looking back at him with one large brown doe eye.
“Are they hostile?” asked Will.
“Some are,” she replied, “but mainly they’re just difficult for ordinary living creatures to survive in. I’ll assume you can handle them, but if we enter one that you think will kill you, try to tell me quickly. If we go too far, I might not be able to turn back fast enough to save you.”
He had seen some of the stranger parts of Faerie, so he figured he could handle almost anything. “Just let me know what to expect as we go,” he said confidently.
“The next one is cold,” she warned.
“No problem.” Or so he thought. The next world wasn’t a winter wonderland. It wasn’t even recognizable as a world according to Will’s limited experience. As they passed into it, the ground vanished entirely. The air was thick but breathable—barely. It held an intense cold that immediately began to seep into his bones.
Dinner began to squirm beneath his arm, and Will realized the tiny canid was probably suffering even more than he was. If he had been dressed more casually, he would have put the dog down the collar of his tunic to keep it warm against his chest, but with his armor that was impossible.
Looking down, he could see ice crystals forming at the edges of the puppy’s nose, and unsure what else to do, he stored Dinner in the limnthal. At first, he wasn’t even sure if it would work, since he’d never used the limnthal while on another plane, but it did.
Will wasn’t really sure if the limnthal was safe for living creatures. He’d kept a vampire in there for an extended period of time, but on Arrogan’s advice he’d made certain to keep the creature well protected from light. All he knew for certain was that the place had air and was somewhat close to the temperature of his own world. Things stored there always came back cool but not frozen.
And time moves a thousand times slower, he reminded himself. Even if it’s dangerous, I should be able to summon him
back before it’s been long enough to harm him. He hoped.
Tailtiu had shifted forms in such a way that it was almost imperceptible. She still possessed fur, but her body was long and sleek with a paddle-like tail. Will’s legs were wrapped around her mid-section, and he held onto her fur with one hand as she swam through the endless, cold, dark sky.
Minutes passed, and it became harder to breathe. His nose, throat, and lungs ached from the burning cold, and it became difficult to force himself to draw in enough air. Will’s nose had gone numb, and he’d had his eyes closed for so long he wasn’t sure if he could still open them. They might have frozen shut.
He was beginning to worry that he wouldn’t be able to last when Tailtiu finally reached the next congruence and brought them back to Faerie. The area they emerged in was a sunny plain covered in thick grass. His aunt paused there for a moment to let him warm back up, and Will took the opportunity to summon Dinner back.
“What did you do?” she asked when she saw the sack reappear.
“I almost froze to death. At his size there’s no way he could have survived, so I stored him in the limnthal,” explained Will.
“Is he all right?” Tailtiu transformed without warning, regaining her usual appearance and sending Will sliding roughly to the ground. She turned and caught the sack before Dinner could fall with him.
He didn’t complain, though he rubbed his backside as he got back to his feet and watched Tailtiu examine the puppy for any damage. There was a distinct aura of anxiousness in her body language. “Will he become immortal?” asked Will.
Green eyes snapped toward him and focused on his face. “What?”
“If he’s been staying with you and he eats food there, he’ll become fae as well, won’t he?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” replied Tailtiu. “Then there’d be no point in eating him. He would lose that special flavor unique to mortal flesh.”
“So, you haven’t been keeping him with you?”
“No. I found a quiet place in your realm. He stays there whenever I must return to Faerie and regain my strength.”
“You leave him alone?” Will tried to imagine it. “Is this in the wild somewhere? Aren’t you afraid something will get him?”
“I built a shelter for him,” she replied, turning her head to the side as Dinner licked her chin and cheeks.
Will found her behavior strange. It didn’t fit any of his conceptions about his aunt. “You made a home for him, a doghouse?”
Tailtiu sneered at him. “Don’t be silly. It’s a farm.”
“You’re attached to him. He isn’t food. He’s a pet,” accused Will.
She sighed. “Your people do the same thing. You build barns and buildings to shelter your livestock. This is no different.”
“Mm hmm,” Will responded dubiously.
She ignored his obvious disbelief. “I’ll have to change our route. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Dinner won’t survive the next plane.”
“How bad is it?”
“There’s no air.”
“Since the limnthal didn’t hurt him, I can put him in there. How long will I have to hold my breath?” asked Will.
Tailtiu smirked. “You can’t. The air would explode out of your lungs if you tried, or you would hurt yourself even worse. There’s almost no pressure at all, but you only have to endure it for ten or fifteen seconds.”
It sounded bad to Will. “Anything else I should worry about?”
“Your eyes and ears. You might go blind and your eardrums could potentially burst. I stopped using a humanoid form after my first time through there. Do you have a way to protect yourself?”
He ran through several ideas, but none were practical. A water-breathing spell wouldn’t work, since it simply stored air in a compressed space within his chest. It essentially just allowed him to hold his breath for an extremely long period of time, and according to what Tailtiu had just said, that would be a bad idea. A force-globe or a force-cage could be used to contain air, but if Tailtiu was inside it with him she wouldn’t be able to propel them, and if she was outside it, she wouldn’t be able to move him.
In the end, the best solution he could come up with was using an iron-body transformation on himself. That would vastly increase the strength of his skin, eyes, and ear drums, though he wasn’t sure if it would be enough. Tailtiu transformed into a new animal form that was functionally similar to the deer form, but rather than fur it had rough, hard skin and there were no eyes at all. Will stored Dinner once again in the limnthal and leapt onto her back. As she took them through the congruence, he made a mental note to not clench his jaw. If he didn’t let the air out of his lungs, his chest might burst.
The air exploded from his mouth the moment they crossed over, followed by intense pain in his eyes, nose, mouth, and sinuses. Seconds later, Will felt his skin begin to tingle and burn. His tongue swelled in his mouth until it felt as though it might strangle him. A loud sound followed by a sharp pain in his ears came next, and then the world went silent.
He couldn’t see, but that meant little since he had kept his eyes closed. Panic threatened to overwhelm him, but there was only one thing he could do—hold onto Tailtiu and hope they would reach the next congruence quickly. Despite the strange sensations and intense pain, Will couldn’t help but notice how heavy his body felt. Not only that, but Tailtiu’s steps seemed to strike the ground with uncommon force.
And then it was over. He struggled to draw air into his wounded lungs. His throat was swollen to the point that air could scarcely pass, and when he opened his eyes the world was a red mess. He couldn’t hear anything either.
Trying to stay calm, Will dismissed the iron-body spell and summoned Dinner and a regeneration potion from the limnthal. He felt Tailtiu take the puppy and then wasted no time drinking the potion. For once, his mouth and throat were in such bad shape that he didn’t even mind the foul taste.
A minute later, his eardrums had healed, and he could hear his aunt speaking. “You should see yourself. There’s blood coming from your eyes and ears, and when you open your mouth you look like a fish.”
His response came with a thick lisp, as his tongue was still returning to its normal size. “That was worse than I expected.”
That turned out to be the worst part of the journey. Over the next half hour, they passed through four other planes, one of which had them underwater for more than ten minutes. Will was able to handle that one easily with a water-breathing spell, and the other three planar shifts were merely annoying in comparison.
The last part of their journey through Faerie was familiar to him, and Tailtiu stopped before they got too close to the last congruence point that would take him home. They were on a grassy plain again, close to the cave that was the goddamn cat’s lair within Faerie. “I can go no farther,” his aunt told him.
Will nodded. “I’ll call you when I’m ready, and we can meet here. I hope it will be just a day or two.”
She nodded, but when Will turned to go, Tailtiu spoke once more. “I should warn you.”
He looked back, his expression questioning.
“My stepfather is planning something.”
Stepfather? Will was confused for a moment. Oh, Elthas, the Forest Lord. “What does it involve?” he asked.
“I don’t know, and if I did, I have a feeling he would forbid me to tell you,” she replied.
“You have debts to him?”
She nodded. “Even more than those that Mother traded you.”
“None of them bind you anymore, though,” Will pointed out.
“He isn’t aware,” said Tailtiu. “However, defying a debt to one of my people isn’t a thing to consider.”
He raised one brow. “But it doesn’t bother you to do so with me?”
“Your lifespan is limited. In the end, you are only human,” she answered sincerely. “I am also aware that you are unlikely to seek to redress my wrongs against you. My people are different. Even if I can break the fundamental rul
es of my existence, they cannot. Were I to refuse to honor a debt, they would never rest until the payment had been made.”
“Would they kill you?”
“Only if I was lucky,” she replied. “My kind have different views on punishment. Betraying my stepfather would merit the worst torment, for as long as my people continue to exist.”
Will’s eyes widened. “Forever?”
Tailtiu nodded. “Interesting, isn’t it? Since our last conversation regarding good and evil, right and wrong, and my newfound freedom, I’ve done a lot of thinking. Before my change, I envied your kind their freedom. It seemed to me that one could do anything if you weren’t bound by iron rules, but now I’m beginning to understand that that really isn’t the case. I have some small choices I can make now—teasing you, or refusing your commands—but in all my choices that matter, nothing has changed. Mother says I’m an abomination, but in reality, my freedom is little more than a cruel illusion.”
He was shocked by the depth of her thought on the matter. Will had never considered his aunt to be a particularly serious thinker, but once again she surprised him. Years before, he would have been silent, unable to respond, but those days were long gone. His own experiences and trials had given him strong opinions on the topic. “Don’t make light of what you’ve gained. It’s true that often our choices seem insignificant, or too limited to have any meaning, but don’t be fooled. Your ability to choose still exists, whether you exercise it or not.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think you really understand—”
“No,” he interrupted. “I do understand. I’ve been there several times now. The night I discovered where the vampires were keeping you put such a choice in front of me. I didn’t reasonably expect to win. Deep down, I knew trying to rescue you was pointless and that I would wind up dying for nothing. My friends who came with me made similar choices.”
“But you overcame them,” countered Tailtiu. “The only mistake was your belief that it was hopeless. My situation is different.”
Disciple of War (Art of the Adept Book 4) Page 47