by Allison Pang
Mud spattered my thighs, flung up by churning hooves. How the hell did one steer a horse without a rope or reins or what have you? I vaguely remember something about using your knees, but a squeeze of my shoes against the heaving sides rewarded me with a snaking neck and a snap of teeth at my calf.
I clenched my jaw and clung as tight as I could as the Barras retreated rapidly from view. I caught the silhouette of the other horse disappearing into the shadows, Tresa’s form clinging like a burr. I eased my aching butt up a little higher. We were moving into the trees now. Branches and twigs snarled past me to catch in my hair and Talivar’s cloak.
I could see no hint of silver ahead, no sign of the CrossRoads. I pulled on the horse’s mane, but it merely snorted and plunged deeper into the forest. Brambles and ferns, massive mushrooms and towering oaks whirled by.
“Goddamn but you’re a bony thing,” I said, wincing as my pelvis ground into the protruding withers as it leapt over a streamlet.
“You’re not exactly a basket of fruit either,” the horse—a mare, I assumed judging by the voice—sniffed.
Given everything that had happened so far today, I decided it wasn’t worth being surprised that I was riding a talking horse. “Erm. Hello?”
“Now she decides she wants introductions. I hope like the hells you can swim.”
“Couldn’t you just slow down? I’ll jump off if that makes it easier for you.” I glanced down at the forest floor, ignoring the thought of what might happen if I landed on my bad knee. I blinked. “Did you say swim?”
“Yeah. And you can’t jump off. Not until I allow it.”
“Um, you wouldn’t happen to be a kelpie, would you?” Kelpies had the pleasant distinction of taking their riders to the nearest body of water and then tearing them to shreds. Which would be the utter height of irony, but I almost didn’t have the energy to laugh.
“If I were, do you think I’d warn you?” The mare made a noise that sounded suspiciously like an amused chuckle. She shook her head, dancing away from a cluster of thick bushes blooming with brilliant azure flowers. The Glamour melted from her body like mist, revealing a coat so black I could have sworn the color would have smeared onto my hands. Her neck curved toward me and I could see the lantern-glow of golden eyes.
“Ah,” I said weakly. “That would make you a—“
“Puca,” she agreed. “And I’m supposed to dunk you in the nearest pond and then gallop off, laughing madly.” She made a sort of equine shrug. “Sorry to say.”
“And you were in with the horses because?”
“I was there to guard the others,” she said dryly. “Glamoured to look like a normal Faery horse. But here we are.” She sniffed the air suddenly, blowing hard. “And here we go.”
Before I could formulate a reply, we hurdled down an embankment so steep I thought she would summersault us the rest of the way, my body crushed beneath her weight. Abruptly we stopped … or more to the point, the puca stopped. I continued my trajectory ass over elbows and straight into a large pond.
Sputtering, I flailed madly, the shock of the water sucking the wind out of me. Stunned, I sank down into the murk for a moment, the brush of something slimy jerking me back to myself.
“You could have least picked something warmer.” My teeth chattered as I sloshed toward the shore. At least the fucking thing hadn’t been too shallow. Spitting out a clump of duckweed, I peeled off Talivar’s cloak, throwing it into the bushes with a twitch of disgust. Damn thing was coated in slime. I glanced down. As was the rest of me, including my beloved purple Chucks. “Dammit.”
The puca eyed me balefully, shaking herself like a dog. “That’s that, then.”
“Shouldn’t you be off cackling somewhere?” I shot her a sour look.
She let out an eerie whinny that did sound a bit like maniacal laughter and stomped her hooves in the mud a few times. “Okay, propriety has been satisfied.” She lowered her head to nip at a fern.
“Those are poisonous to horses, you know.” I kicked at the bracken, squeezing the dirty water out of my hair. I should have been pissed that I was soaking wet, but to be honest, I was just so horribly tired. I could have been naked by this point and don’t think I would’ve minded, as long as I wasn’t riding a horse, being slammed into the dirt by crazy elf chicks, or half gutted by a stag.
“Not really a horse,” the puca pointed out, continuing to browse.
I picked through my thoroughly saturated backpack, wrinkling my nose as I assessed the damage. At least the protein bars were wrapped up and therefore safe, but the rest of it was probably ruined. I sank onto a tree stump, my feet squishing inside my shoes.
So here I was. No knowledge of how to get back. No dry clothes. No iron knife. I peeled the wrapper of one of the protein bars and wolfed it down with a vengeance.
The puca’s ears cupped toward me. “Anything good?”
I took another bite. “What do you care? You dumped my ass in a puddle. You think I’m gonna give you my food?” I shifted, my knee protesting. Hell, most of my body protested. I suspected after the day’s activities I was going to be covered in bruises later, but for now it was probably better not to look.
For that matter, judging by the way the sun was beginning to set it wouldn’t be too much longer until nightfall. The idea of passing the night in the mud wasn’t all that appealing to me either. “Stumble around in the dark or wait around for something to come eat me?” My limbs shook with a rush of cold. If I didn’t start moving around I was going to stiffen up something awful.
The cloak still hung from a low branch like some sort of puppet Dementor. I wasn’t going to put it on just yet, but maybe I could use it for something else later. Groaning, I got to my feet. “Don’t suppose you can point me the way we came? Aside from up that massively steep hill?”
The puca flicked her tail. “There’s actually a path over past those trees. You’d probably have better luck there.”
“Maybe it will take me to the CrossRoads?”
She shook her head. “Doubtful, but at least it will be even footing.”
“Fair enough.” I limped through a small forest of cattails. I’d heard you could roast them and eat them, but I was still wary about the food here.
There was a sudden flapping of wings and a breeze past my head. Startled, I ducked, glancing up to see an ebony eagle soaring past. “Shapeshifter,” I said. I’d heard pucas could take multiple forms, but I’d never seen one at the Marketplace to ask.
My feet rolled out from under me, the ground suddenly giving way as I stumbled forward. Swearing at my own idiocy, I bent to tie my shoe and froze. It hadn’t been mud I’d slipped in.
A female body lay in a grotesque sort of repose against the moss, her corn-silk hair a stringy mess. She was elvish, the long lines of her form indicating a warrior of some sort. Or a messenger.
A leather satchel hung at her side. My upper lip curled in distaste as I lifted the flap, carefully pulling out a few pieces of parchment. Holding them up to the dying sunlight, I realized they were in Elvish, the ink somewhat smeared from the damp, but I recognized the Royal Seal from the Contract I had signed earlier with Talivar.
“Moira’s real replacement. I’m sorry,” I said softly, kneeling at her side. A closer inspection of her head showed a scrape of blood and a shattered skull. A faint odor of decay arose when I attempted to inspect the rest of the satchel, but an additional search revealed only what appeared to be a few personal effects, including a tinderbox.
I wavered for a moment, exhaustion lancing through me. The woman wasn’t going anywhere, but I didn’t want to leave her there either. Burying her was out of the question. She was … evidence. Talivar would need to see her, if nothing else. Distaste at the thought rolled over my tongue, a chill taking root in my bones.
“Right, then.” I fingered the tinderbox. It wasn’t a Bic, but maybe I could manage to make it work. After all, how hard could it be to make a campfire?
Eighteen
&n
bsp; Numbly, I sat as far from the corpse as possible, shivering as the night’s chill descended upon the pond in a fine mist. The tinderbox had been a complete and utter failure. I’d managed to get a few sparks out if it, once I’d figured out the striking mechanism, but my fingers continued to fumble in the waning light until I could barely see what I was doing.
“Fuck it.” I rocked back and forth with my arms wrapped around my knees for warmth. If my clothes hadn’t been damp, the air would have been tolerable, but for the moment it sucked mightily.
I curled up on the tattered remains of Talivar’s cloak, desperately wishing I could take off my shoes. On the other hand, if something came up and I needed to run, the last thing I wanted to deal with was stepping on something thorny. Thus far, except for small rustlings, the night had been quiet. Occasionally soft, glowing lights sparkled in the distance—small will-o’-the-wisps, perhaps, enticing me to follow.
At one point, the whispered strains of music trickled through the trees, echoed by the beckoning gleam of a bright, warm fire. My eyelids drooped even as I started to get to my feet, the urge to be warm and safe overtaking everything else. My foot stumbled over the dead woman’s satchel and I sank to the ground. Abruptly the light disappeared, the music cut off, and I knew it had been just another Faerie trick.
Once I caught the chime of bells, and my heart lurched, Ion’s name dying on my lips as a little pixie fluttered by carrying a cluster of bluebells. She eyed me curiously, her wings that of a great luna moth. Miserable, I laid my head on my knees, closing my eyes. Where the hell was Talivar?
“Absinthe?”
I let out a muffled shriek as a calloused hand slid over my mouth.
“It’s me … Jimmy Squarefoot.” The pig-man raised his head, releasing me gently. “I’ve found her,” he shouted behind us.
I whipped around, nearly sobbing with relief as Talivar emerged from the shadows of the wood, a small ball of witchlight at his head. The silhouettes of other elves followed behind him, about twenty or so, and a few horses as well. Coughing, I staggered to my feet. “Talivar?”
Swiftly, he crossed the remaining distance, catching me gently around the shoulders. He began to pat me down, his fingers tracing through my hair and over my face. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”
My voice was somehow stuck in my throat, a great lump making it hard to swallow. “I’m okay. Just wet and cold.”
“That damnable puca.”
“The Protectorate,” I mumbled, pointing where she lay. “I found her. Tried to use her tinderbox to make a fire, but I … I couldn’t get it to work.” My head swirled, my legs swaying from underneath me. Talivar caught me and supported my weight on his strong side.
I heard Jimmy Squarefoot snuffling at the ground. “Aye, she’s the right of it. Fae woman and foul play, belike. I can smell the blood.”
Talivar turned abruptly and carried me over to where a white stallion stood, the reins held by what looked like a squire. I shook my head at him. “I can’t ride anymore. Not tonight.”
He pressed a gentle kiss to my lips, setting me down in the soft grass. “Give me a moment to set things to right and we’ll get you taken care of.” He dug into a pouch at his side to pull out a silver flask, uncorking it. “Here. Have a drop or two of this.”
My hands trembled and I gasped as liquid fire pooled in my belly. Coughing at the bitterness, I stared up at him blearily. “I’m sorry you couldn’t go after Tresa.”
“We’ll find her, but Kitsune will have her way of it first.” He patted my head and then strode to the dead Protectorate, crouching for a better look. Moments later, he ordered the others to build a litter. I closed my eyes, taking another sip of Faerie firewater, listening to the glorious sound of people moving around me.
One of the elf women knelt beside me, her cool hand on my forehead, but I found I didn’t have the strength to do more than peer between cracked lids. She made a tsking noise, jabbering something in her language that I didn’t understand. When I didn’t answer, she said it louder, the inflection making it out to be a question. Talivar replied shortly, his voice terse, but whatever he said must have made sense to her, for she nodded and patted my cheek before withdrawing.
The flask slipped through my slackened fingers, but I didn’t care much. At some point I must have dozed off because when I came to, I was moving again. Or really, the horse was moving. I was arranged carefully in front of Talivar, my head lolling against his chest, the dark scent of leather pressed against my nose.
I mumbled a question at him, blinking owlishly into the darkness. He chuckled softly. “I’ve sent the others to Eildon Tree. They’re going to wait for us there tomorrow.”
I frowned. “How come we’re not going there? Are Melanie and Phin there too?”
“Yes, but I want to get you warmed up first. There’s a hot spring a little ways from here—it’s rich in healing minerals. Jimmy said you hurt your knee.” He tapped it gently and I shuddered.
“No magic healers in your band of merry men?”
He sighed. “Not as of yet. A lot has happened since you left us this morning, Abby.” His arms tightened about my waist. I was vaguely aware of the fact that I must have smelled like swamp water and ass, but he didn’t seem to notice. “War is coming,” he said softly. “There’s an army of daemons camped outside the gates of Faerie, or at least the beginnings of one.”
I jerked up, nearly tumbling us from the horse. “What? And you left Mel out there by herself?”
“Calm yourself.” He patted the horse’s neck as it danced sideways. “Things are done a certain way here. The protocols in place insist they give us time to respond to their demands.” His tone became dry. “Besides, Moira is currently trying to broker some sort of deal that will allow this all to end peaceably.”
I snorted. “What do they want? Besides world domination, I’m assuming.”
“Maurice.”
“Fucker gets around, doesn’t he?” I rubbed my face wearily, fingers running through the gunky edges of my hair. “So let me guess—we give them Maurice and they agree to walk away?”
He grunted in affirmation, his hips moving subtly to nudge the horse a little faster as we turned down what looked like a deer trail. “Not too long now.”
The statement was unnecessary. I could smell the scent of the warm waters from here. He dismounted, sliding off the horse with practiced ease. My feet squelched when he set me down in the clearing. With a gesture, the witchlight followed us as he led me past a cluster of small boulders.
“Are you sure we have time for this? I mean, shouldn’t we be getting back to the others?”
He shot me an amused look. “We’ve time enough, like I said. And this is a place of healing.” He yawned. “Been a rather long day for me too.”
Groaning, I could only nod my head at him. “Don’t suppose you brought any food?”
“Of course.” He placed one hand on my hip, gracefully steering me to the edge of the largest hot spring. “Here, go ahead. Get undressed and get in there. I’ll fix us something to eat and set up camp.”
Wordlessly, I shucked off my disgusting shoes and sodden jeans. I could hear the creak of the saddle as Talivar undid whatever supplies he brought with him. Above me, the witchlight gently illuminated the water, showing the spring to be softly rounded and not overly deep, although I would easily be able to immerse my entire body into it. I dipped a toe into the shallows, nearly weeping at the sensation of warmth sliding up my calf.
Quickly, I shed the rest of my clothes. I hesitated only a moment when it came to my underwear. I’d seen him, hadn’t I? Fair was fair and at this point I would have happily paraded around the Judgment Hall naked if it would have gotten me a beer and a bath. I spared a quick glance behind me anyway, but the prince was busy setting up a small fire. With matches, I noticed wryly.
My panties went the way of the rest of my clothing. A heartbeat later I was gingerly immersing myself into the steaming spring. I hissed as the water
hit the cuts on my legs and arms, yelping at the brush of my backside against a heated rock. Apparently I’d fallen harder than I’d thought.
I tipped my head to let my hair float about me, the warmth seeping into sore muscles until I became boneless. “I think I could stay in here forever.” I massaged my bad knee between both palms.
“There are times I’ve felt much the same,” Talivar said, crouching beside the edge of the spring. He handed me the flask again and I took a grateful sip, sighing as it slid through my veins until my head swirled. “Feeling better?”
“I’m warmer, anyway,” I said dryly. “If just as wet.” His mouth twitched and I flushed as I realized what I’d said. Scowling, I stoppered the flask. “How’s the food coming along?”
“Nearly done. It’s simply a little stew.” His gaze roamed over me and I resisted the urge to cover myself up. “I’ve even got some bread.” A minute later he was back with a small blanket and two bowls, a handful of rolls, and a few wooden spoons. My stomach roared to life at the scent and I eagerly snagged a bowl. “It’s not bacon,” he admitted with a wry smile, “but it should do to fill your belly.”
“After the day I’ve had, it could be cheese-flavored sawdust and I’d eat it,” I said between bites. “I wasn’t sure what was safe to eat in Faerie, honestly. I didn’t want to risk being caught up in sort of magic bullshit spell for the sake of an apple.” The stew was thick and mildly spicy and tasted utterly divine. “And here I thought you said you couldn’t cook.”
“The key thing about Faerie gifts is the intention. Same with food. If you can trust the giver, then there’s your answer. If you see me eating it, it’s probably safe.” His mouth pursed self-deprecatingly. “And this is about the only thing I can make. A few years in the army and one quickly learns that the cook pot is really just another word for catchall.”
“Still good.” I scraped the last of it from the bowl, licking my fingers before devouring the roll. Beside me, the elf ate quietly, his shoulders sagging as he leaned against the boulder. “What time is it? I’ve completely lost track of anything.”