“We may have need of this later,” she said.
“Can you not take more when it’s needed?”
“No, I will be leaving her in the Shadow Realm after today. You will soon understand why.”
“Then I may accompany you?”
She looked him in the eye. “And why would I hold you back? You may have poor judgment when it comes to women like Una, but you are still the senior Sin apart from myself.”
He gave her a polite nod. “I would be happy to accompany you. Why exactly are we visiting the Shadow Realm?”
“That…” began Duessa with no little glee. “Is the exciting part.”
Putting forth her hand, a wave of energy passed out of it, forming a shining red tear in the fabric of space right in front of them. It neither gave off the same light as a tear to Annwyn, nor was it anywhere near as significant. It was a tear to the Shadow Realm, a portal to their own private sanctuary.
“After you,” she said, putting forth a hand.
Wrath smiled before taking a step forward and stepping through the breach.
He arrived on the other side into a land of pure chaos. There were souls tearing at other souls, monsters fighting monsters. In the distance stood an enormous gate, larger than any structure ever built. It marked the way into Annwyn. Everything on this side was simply an in-between space, a limbo. But there were still many souls trapped here, and there was violence and blood, even if it was partially figurative. They said the appearance of the Shadow Realm was dependent on the viewer. For him, it was a paradise of anger and wrath. Almost nothing felt more like home.
He turned slightly as Duessa materialized beside him, dragging the young girl with her by the hair. The young female protested but was far beyond that kind of superficial pain by now.
“You left the vile of blood,” Wrath pointed out.
“We will not need it here. Come.”
Duessa took them forward, through the streets of the dead, through wailing and gnashing of teeth, past horrors of all kinds, some that were trapped here forever, and others like the Sins who could move freely between this world and the one above. Ever since they had escaped, they had become masters of this place.
They came close to the giant gate that separates them from the world of Annwyn beyond. Wrath kept two or three steps behind Duessa as she pressed up against the gate, dragging Amoret close. This was the one part of the Shadow Realm where he did not feel comfortable, so close to their old prison.
“What is it you’re trying to do, Duessa,” he said, eyeing her as she brought Amoret’s bloodied hand forward to press against the gate.
“To show you what I have accomplished since we last parted,” replied Duessa, not looking back at him, but smearing Amoret’s blood along the gate and beginning to rub it around in a strange pattern with one finger.
“Is this why you needed the girl?”
“Partially, but this will be the last time I use her for this purpose. She will be staying here for some time with some of the others.”
It was then that Wrath noticed two beings approach. Though, in reality, it was impossible to describe the pair as human or even beast. One was not even corporeal, but more like a wave of energy. Wrath wrinkled his nose as a scent like concentrated rose petals wafted past. Now he understood why Amoret would remain here. She was to spend time with some of the weaker Sins.
Turning his attention back to Duessa, he opened his mouth to speak but his jaw went slack as he saw what Duessa was up to. She had dropped Amoret’s hand, leaving the girl collapsed on the ground, and she was waving her hands in front of her in what appeared to be a great spell. Beads of sweat appeared on Duessa’s forehead, and her face became, if it were possible, even paler.
“What are…”
“Quiet,” she snapped. “I need to concentrate.”
She continued her chants, and whatever it was that she was doing, it had an adverse effect on her. The sweating continued, and soon Duessa changed from her usual image of a beautiful black-haired seductress to her true form as a woman-shaped creature with bear paws for feet and eagle talons for hands. Sharp teeth sprang out as she gasped for air, but still continued her chant.
The process continued for some time, and all the while she appeared to grow weaker and weaker, until Wrath thought he might be wise to intervene. Suddenly a pale green light began to emanate forth out of the wall, weak but stable.
That...that was a tear.
The green light grew in the thin line, creeping down the side of the gate until it was nearly the height of a man. Wrath watched with wide eyes as someone, or something, began to tear through the breach, pushing through the gate as though it were made of some kind of tough yet malleable substance, like a broken bone bursting through muscle.
Duessa had opened a breach to Annwyn.
What stepped through the tear was a great beast nearly seven feet high, appearing much like a great hyena. Wrath had encountered such creatures in his time before the imprisonment, but this one was far larger, covered in black fur, and its teeth were long, extending down past its snout. Its claws were silver and matched those teeth in lethality.
When it had come through, the green light flickered and died. Duessa collapsed to the ground and Wrath stepped nearer to support her, though he kept one wary eye on the beast. But it remained where it was, its chest expanding and contracting in great husky breaths.
“You brought this beast over from Annwyn,” said Wrath, looking at Duessa with newfound respect.
“The girl’s blood is the key,” Duessa gasped through great heaving breaths. All her strength was gone, but with Wrath’s help she managed to sit up and stared at the creature. “I cannot do more than bring in one beast at a time. And I can’t bring anyone through with any true intelligence. Doing so would kill me.”
“Still,” said Wrath. “It is more than we ever thought possible.”
“Indeed,” said Duessa. “Now I will continue what you seem to want so much.”
He looked at her. “I don’t understand.”
Duessa smirked. “You are right that we need that sweet woman of yours, but it will be under my terms. When we leave the Shadow Realm, I am ordering this creature to find your precious Una and bring her to me...alive.”
15
Guyon continued to trudge through a mixture of brambles and grass, doing his best to follow the trail of several bandits in front of him. But all of them had ridden on horseback, and Guyon just had his two feet.
Yet, he couldn’t complain. He just had to trust in the Faerie Queen, trust that she would not have sent him on this mission if it was impossible. Surely the group would stop their advance eventually, and Guyon would then have the time to strike. These tracks weren’t exactly old. He would come upon them in no time.
He knew little about those he pursued, and all he did know came from his dreams, the Faerie Queen’s guidance. But even those instructions were vague. The Faerie Queen certainly didn't want to give too much away. Guyon couldn’t blame Una for her frustration. But he had enough to move forward, pursuing a woman who, from what he could tell, was something of a wild lady who lived off the land. She had no particular allegiance, and most did not even know she existed.
The others Guyon followed were pursuers, three of them. They wanted the wild woman for themselves, though Guyon had no idea what their motive might be. Whatever it was, it was likely nefarious in nature. It would soon be his job to free the woman of her ill-willed pursuers. Then perhaps he would have a chance to find out what made her so special.
He continued on for hours into the day, until the crimson light of dusk shone in the distance behind a few trees. This area was flatter than usual, and there were still pockets of forest here and there, though nothing like the density of the Forest of Arden.
The tracks were still fresh, but it was impossible to tell if he was gaining any ground on the men. From his estimation they had passed through that morning, but they might have kept going or stopped just ahead. He wo
uld simply have to push on until he found them, or until the light became too dark to see by, which was likely to come first. Silently cursing, he redoubled his pace as the light slowly faded in the west. He had to make as much progress as possible before it was gone.
But then, something stopped him. In the distance he thought he could make out a warm glow, and the comforting scent of wood smoke drifted through the trees. There was someone up ahead.
Guyon fought down a moment of elation. He didn’t yet know if he’d found the men who pursued the wild woman, but who else would be out here in the middle of nowhere? He had to get close and do so without being seen.
He crept forward, pulling his sword out just in case. If these were indeed the men who he sought, it was likely he would need to defend himself.
As he drew nearer, the sound of drunken laughter met his ears. The noise was so loud he wondered how he had not heard the group before catching the scent of their fire. They were paying absolutely no attention to stealth. But from the noise there had to be half a dozen of them out there, not just three.
But no, three they were, just as his dreams had hinted, but reveling in their drink with such intensity that it could only mean one thing. They were celebrating.
That wasn’t good. That could only mean they had caught the woman they were after. Was Guyon too late?
He snuck even closer, hiding behind a nearby tree and peering around it to scan the campsite. The sunlight had all but faded by now, but he could clearly make out four horses tied up to the trees and plenty of belongings strewn about somewhat carelessly. Guyon shook his head. When would men learn to be temperate? They were opening themselves to all manner of trouble from their behavior tonight. But, he had to admit, their carelessness could give him the advantage.
Something moved off in the distance, near the horses. Guyon’s eyes quickly sought out the source of the movement and immediately spotted the woman he was searching for. She was covered in a large fishing net so that her features were hard to make out, but there was no doubt this was the wild woman he was seeking. She thrashed about, clearly tied at the wrists and ankles in addition to being caught in the net.
Guyon glanced back at the three men, who were still drinking around the fire. He still couldn’t tell if they were Britons or Saxons, but given their actions it didn’t matter. They were his enemies. But even drunk, they could still present a problem if he attacked them directly, one against three. It would be better to use stealth.
Creeping forward he stayed to the right side to go away from the three men, over towards where the horses stood and the woman lay. He moved as slowly as he dared, not wanting to spook the horses. Thankfully, most of them seemed not to mind, only one of them beat his hoof on the ground as he came closer.
Finally, he came to the woman’s side. First, he stared at the fire to make sure none of the men were looking in his direction, then he placed his sword on the ground, drew a knife at his belt and began cutting through the net. The woman was gagged and said nothing, but she immediately pushed herself up on her elbows to get a better view of him, a muffled word or two coming from her mouth.
Guyon put a finger to his lips but kept cutting away at the net. When it was nearly open, the woman twisted, exposing the bonds on her hands tied behind her back. Catching the hint, Guyon used his knife to cut at the cords, which fell away within seconds. He continued by cutting at the cords that held her legs.
When that was done, the woman scrambled to a crouching position, pulling the gag off her face. She said no words but looked Guyon straight in the eye...before straightening and running as fast as she could away from the camp.
Guyon opened his mouth to call to her, to stop her from running, but she was already far away. That woman could run.
“Hey!” said one of the brutes surrounding the fire. “What’s going on?”
Guyon sighed and turned back to find all three of the men were on their feet, staring at him.
“He let the prisoner go!” shouted another of the three. “Let’s kill him.”
Guyon thought about running. But these three had horses. And even while intoxicated, they would still be able to eventually overtake both him and the woman with their horses.
Bending low to take up the sword he had placed on the ground, he straightened and held it out in a standard defensive position. He hoped the woman was capable of feeling some gratitude as she fled the scene. Because he was about to do her another favor.
The first of the three men charged.
The man had clearly been drinking, as he stumbled slightly upon his initial assault, but his drunkenness must have interfered with his judgment, for as he drew nearer he lowered his head and readied himself to barrel into Guyon, despite the knight’s sword held at the ready.
Surprised at the nature of the attack, Guyon pulled his sword out of the way and sidestepped. He didn’t, after all, want to impale these men, despite what they had done. He would prefer to simply restrain them and seek answers. But that proved unlikely at the moment, for the instant that he stepped out of the big man’s path, one of his comrades came up just behind and lunged at Guyon. This one did have a sword, though it was crudely made and suffered from too much weather exposure. These three probably couldn’t afford a proper sword, and they were clearly not of the noble blood.
Guyon parried with his own blade, directing his opponent’s sword to one side. But the man must have been less intoxicated than his companions because he quickly brought the blade to bear once again. The weapons rang out as they clashed, and Guyon was soon fully engaged in a battle with the second man.
The third had also come to join in, though he was more cautious than the other two, looking instead into the distance, clearly wondering if he should go after the wild woman, or stay and help his comrades. In the end, it seemed he decided on the latter, for he gathered up the net that had once held the wild woman and hovered in a half crouch away from the rest of them, waiting for his chance. Yes, the net was torn where Guyon had slashed it, but it could still interfere with his fight.
He had to find a clearer vantage point, one where he wasn’t beset on all sides with these three—
“Argh!” he cried as a white-hot pain lanced through his left leg. He had forgotten the first man. The big fellow had fallen down after Guyon dodged his charge, but he had produced a knife, a knife that now lay embedded to the hilt in Guyon’s thigh.
Guyon sank to one knee, feeling the pain only increase as the abrupt action sent a shockwave through his bones. The second man grinned and pushed in for the kill.
In that single moment, Guyon knew one thing. He could no longer avoid lethal force and expect to live. He had to defend his life to the fullest capability, right now. If he did not, he would die tonight.
As the second man swung, Guyon used all the strength in his arms to swing his sword directly at his opponent’s, knocking it to the side. In the same motion, Guyon pulled his sword back upward so its tip grazed the man’s fingers.
His opponent gasped and dropped the sword. Then, with his good leg, Guyon kicked at the man’s knee. Taken by surprise, the man fell forward...right onto Guyon’s waiting blade.
“Brother!” cried the third man. Ah, so they were related, then. Before that one could do anything with the net in his hands, Guyon pulled his own knife out of his belt and sent it flying at the first brother, the one who still gripped the handle of his own knife in Guyon’s thigh. The big man gurgled as the knife embedded itself in his throat, his grip on the knife in Guyon’s leg loosened, and he fell backward.
But the third man had recovered by now, and in the next instant the weighted ends of the net flew over him, knocking him onto his back. Guyon winced as the motion only sent more pain lancing through his thigh. He scrambled to find the cut ends of the rope so he could escape the tangled mess, but he knew in that moment that he would be too late. The third man had picked up his brother’s sword and was advancing on Guyon.
Guyon’s sword was momentarily usel
ess, and his dagger was off to the side in the first man’s throat. That left only one line of defense. His fingers wrapped around the knife still protruding from his thigh.
He pulled.
For a moment, blackness took his vision, and he let out a strangled cry as pain consumed him. His leg was on fire, his body overcome with agony. As his vision rematerialized, still swimming, he watched as the third man bore down on him. Guyon was too weak now to bring the knife up to stop the blow. He would be unable to do anything to stop this one from killing him.
Suddenly, the man jolted as though he had been hit by a blow to the back. His face went blank, his eyes drooped, and his muscles grew limp. Guyon blinked, wondering if the haziness of his vision was causing him to hallucinate.
But in the next moment, the third brother fell to his knees and collapsed on the ground just next to Guyon. In his back protruded an arrow, its polished shaft and white feathers still quivering from its impact.
Guyon was losing consciousness as blood poured from the wound in his thigh. But as darkness took him, the last thing he saw was the face of the young woman as she extracted the arrow from the back of the man, then bent over Guyon to inspect his injuries.
16
“Where are we going?” asked Una as she and Britomart continued their ride. She knew the answer, but the words came anyway as she felt an overwhelming sense of fruitlessness hanging over their journey. And she was saddle sore, as they had been riding for two days now with hardly any break.
“We continue to comb these beaches until we find the cave, no?” said Brit.
“But you saw how powerful Wrath is. We need a new approach.”
“Yes, and that approach is to find his lair and set a trap. He headed west, which means he was not going back to his home.”
“Not that home at least,” added Una under her breath.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” said Una, shaking her head. “I just feel like we need more to go on.”
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