Black Heart bw-3

by Christina Henry

  I spun around, trying not to fall over. My coordination had pretty much gone out the window with my hands bound.

  The dragon roared, spitting fire at the platoon of armed faerie that surrounded us. I noticed several of them carried long shields in addition to bows and arrows. As my dragon blew flame at them, the faerie held up the shields, which were made of a shiny hammered metal and deflected the fire away.

  Other faerie continued to shoot arrows at the dragon, who knocked the intruders away with his tail if they approached too close. Why would the faerie risk death at the mouth of a dragon just to retrieve me? Why was I so important?

  “Go,” I said to the dragon. I couldn’t bear it if they killed him because of me. I didn’t know why, but I wouldn’t be able to bear it. “Go. It’s me they want.”

  The faerie were grim-faced and obviously determined. More and more of them appeared, streaming silently out of the trees, more than I’d thought possible.

  The dragon huffed out a sound that might have been refusal.

  “Go!” I shouted, my eyes full of tears. I didn’t want them to hurt him anymore. Whatever they wanted from me didn’t even matter. I was tired of fighting. I was sick of death.

  And if I died, I could be with Gabriel. There was a lot of peace in that thought.

  “Go,” I said to the dragon for the third time. I turned my back on the faerie closing in around us so I could meet his eyes. The dragon roared, blasted fire at the faerie.

  “Please.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me, then flapped his wings and lifted off. I followed him with my eyes as he rose above the forest. He paused for a moment, high above me. I heard a low voice in my head, almost a growl.

  Be careful, Madeline. They are not what they seem. Do not give in.

  Then rough hands were on me, dragging me down, binding my ankles again, lashing my arms to my sides. I jerked my head around, trying to see him, trying to catch one more glimpse of my dragon.

  But by the time the faerie had trussed me up again and backed away, the sky was empty. The dragon was gone.

  I felt a strange mixture of relief and despair. I was glad the dragon was safe, but now I was alone again—and back where I’d started.

  Two faerie came forward carrying a long strip of the same silver netting they’d used to capture me in the first place. I was unceremoniously hoisted into it and the two faerie were joined by two others who held me in it like four posts holding a hammock. All of this was done without speaking, and I wondered who was in charge. The faerie seemed to know instinctively what their job was, moving seamlessly like insects in a hive.

  My captors fell into line and began moving back toward the village. It was rough going for me. I rolled around inside the net, unable to control my movements as all of my limbs were immobilized. The fae that carried me weren’t deliberately trying to harm me, but they weren’t taking any special precautions, either. If they bumped into a tree or a rock, they weren’t concerned. And I didn’t hear anything that sounded like an apology.

  The sky and the roof of the forest whirled dizzyingly above me. After a while I started to feel sick and closed my eyes. I didn’t think I had run that far, but the journey back seemed to take forever.

  I fell asleep again despite the uncomfortable ride. The pregnancy book I’d purchased (a hundred years ago, in another life, it seemed) had mentioned a constant state of tiredness, particularly in the first trimester. It hadn’t mentioned anything about supernatural offspring, although I could extrapolate that my child might be especially exhausting.

  I was shaken roughly awake when I was unceremoniously dumped in another dwelling. This one was a lot less primitive than the last. There was an actual floor, made of smooth planks of light wood. The floor was scattered with shiny green leaves.

  The faerie that had carried me silently left the room. They probably figured I couldn’t do too much damage as tightly bound as I was. Which meant they hadn’t realized I was the one who had set the other hut on fire. That was good. It meant I could still surprise them. And the way things were going so far, I would need all the surprises I could get.

  I rolled onto my back so I could get a good look at the rest of the room. This position was not even remotely comfortable. My wings and hands were bound behind me so I had to lie on top of them. Still, by lifting my head up I could get a better view without flopping from one side to another.

  There were a few pieces of furniture—some chairs, a low table—all of which looked as if they’d been formed from the branches of trees. There were no paintings or photographs on the wall, but a large shrine was given pride of place on one side of the room.

  The top of the shrine was decorated with several carved figures. Candles were set at five separate points around the top. I wondered who these faerie worshiped. They were like no fae I had seen before.

  Two doorways covered in leaf curtains stood at either end of the room. I suspected that I was about to meet some kind of leader, and I was right.

  A tall man who could have been anywhere from thirty to fifty years old entered. Faeries age differently than humans do, at least in my time and place, so he was probably well older than he appeared. The man’s face was grim, his eyes were blue, and he had the lean, sinewy look of someone who spent a lot of time outdoors. He was flanked by two younger men who walked a step or two behind him in obvious deference to his status.

  He strode in with the air of a person about to lay down the law. I figured I’d better throw him off balance before he went all “Off with her head” on me.

  “I’m hungry,” I announced.

  The three men stopped at the sound of my voice. The leader spoke to the man on his left. This faerie was also tall, with caramel-brown hair streaked with yellow, and very golden brown eyes. The third man had blond hair and green eyes, and a strange quality that seemed to make him fade into the background.

  All of the faerie wore a sleeveless brown tunic with leggings, which made them look like escapees from Middle Earth. The man on the right, the disappearing blond, held my sword in his hand. I breathed an inward sigh. I thought I’d lost it.

  The leader and the brown-haired man had a short exchange in their own language before the second man spoke. In English. That was a surprise.

  “My lord Batarian requires information of you. If you answer honest and true, your bonds will be released and you will be given nourishment.”

  “If not, then death and/or dismemberment will follow, et cetera, et cetera?” I asked, watching Batarian carefully as I said this. His face did not move a muscle, but his eyes flickered.

  The second man spoke again. “I do not know what this ‘et cetera’ is, but I assure you that you will suffer if you do not cooperate.”

  “I’m suffering now,” I said, making my voice as whiny and annoying as possible. “I’m hungry. I’m thirsty. My hands are going numb. I was dragged out of a tree when I wasn’t bothering anyone.”

  “I think you misunderstand your position,” the man said icily. “You are a prisoner, not a guest.”

  “Well, at least that clarifies my status,” I said. “I thought this was the way you invited people over for dinner.”

  “My lord has—” the man began again, but I cut him off.

  “In my country, prisoners have certain rights,” I said. I was going to make this guy snap if it was the last thing I did. I didn’t have a lot of power while tied up and lying on the floor, but as long as I wasn’t gagged, I could drive somebody crazy.

  “You are not in your country,” the translator said through gritted teeth.

  “Yeah, and speaking of that, just where in the hell am I?” Because when I get back home I want to thank Nathaniel for sending me here—before I smack him in the head several times.

  “I will be the one to ask the questions!” the man thundered.

  “No,” I said, gesturing toward Batarian. “He will.”

  The translator looked uncertain for a moment, then gathered his dignity. “Of course
, Lord Batarian is the ultimate authority here, but he will ask his questions through me.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Are you saying you refuse to cooperate?”

  “No,” I said. “I’m saying Batarian can stop pretending he doesn’t speak my language.”

  I had to give Batarian credit. His expression never changed.

  “Lord Batarian has entrusted me to . . .”

  I glared at Batarian. “Stop. Pretending.”

  The translator made a move like he was going to strike me.

  “Stop!” Batarian said in English.

  I raised an eyebrow at him. He gave me a slight nod of acknowledgment. “How did you know?”

  “All the time that I was going back and forth with this guy, you never asked what I was saying,” I said. “In my experience, a ruler likes to know everything, especially when a conversation is occurring in his presence. You weren’t interrupting constantly to ask what I was saying, and he wasn’t translating everything I said as a matter of course. He’s a failure, too, actually. Neither of you played your parts very well.”

  “Perhaps that is because duplicity does not come as easily to us as to one of your kind,” the translator said.

  “And what do you know of my kind?” I said. “We seem to be thin on the ground around here.”

  “Enough to know that one of Lucifer’s cannot be trusted,” he shot back.

  I stilled. What did they know of Lucifer here, and how did they know about me?

  “Sakarian!” Batarian snapped. He looked furious. The younger man had given away information that his lord was not yet ready to share.

  Sakarian, looking chastened, bent his head toward Batarian and said something in their native language, sounding apologetic.

  Batarian responded, his tone clipped. I looked from one to the other. They did not physically resemble each other except for their height, but still . . .

  “Is he your kid?” I asked, jerking my head toward Sakarian. This gesturing-with-my-head thing was getting old. My neck was sore.

  “I do not understand ‘kid,’” Batarian said, his brow furrowing.

  “Your son,” I said. “Is he your son?”

  The two of them exchanged glances with the third man, who had thus far remained silent and still.

  “How did you know that?” Batarian asked.

  “Are you some kind of witch?” Sakarian asked suspiciously.

  I shrugged—or, at least, tried to. I could barely move my shoulders a millimeter with the way I was tied up. “It’s just the way you act with each other. There’s a familiarity, despite all of the ‘my lord’–ing.”

  Batarian looked troubled. “It appears we have revealed far more than we have concealed. Perhaps Sakarian is right. We are not practiced in the ways of duplicity.”

  His face darkened. It seemed he was dwelling on some bad memory. I didn’t want to get persecuted just because he was remembering someone who had tricked him before. Someone like, say, Lucifer.

  “Listen,” I said. “You want to talk, let’s talk. But I need to eat. It won’t do you any good if your prisoner passes out in the middle of the interrogation.”

  Sakarian shook his head. “We cannot trust her. She will flee as soon as we loose her bonds.”

  “What do you want to keep me for, anyway?” I asked. “You don’t trust me, but I didn’t attack you. You attacked me. Twice. You’re acting pretty self-righteous for a people who initiated the conflict.”

  Sakarian started to speak again, but Batarian held up his hand. I could see him weighing his options, trying to determine the best tack to take with me.

  “Release the bonds on her arms and legs but keep her wings tied,” Batarian said.

  “You know,” I said conversationally. “Once my hands are free it’s nothing for me to get my wings unbound. So you might as well save me the trouble and take care of that as well.”

  Batarian gave a short laugh. “You would not be able to release yourself. These cords can be undone only by the voice of our people.”

  I remembered the guard holding his hand over the knots tied around my ankles, how he had spoken words in his own language before they had released.

  “Okay,” I said. “But it would still be polite to untie my wings. They’re not just accessories, you know. It hurts when they’re bound up like this.”

  “I think it is not a bad thing for you to suffer some discomfort,” Batarian said. “It will remind you of your place.”

  Sakarian came forward to release my ankles and wrists. He unknotted the cords that had been wrapped around my body until all that remained were, as promised, the bindings around my wings.

  His eyes dared me to try anything as I sat up, rubbing my limbs to get feeling back into them.

  If I wanted to, I could have done a lot of damage now that my hands were free. I could have killed all three of them and escaped on foot before anyone realized what was going on. Three things stopped me from doing just that.

  One, I didn’t really have a grievance with them despite the fact that they had captured me for no apparent reason. No one here was my enemy, and my life was not in immediate danger. So it didn’t seem very sporting to kill them just because they were holding me up.

  Two, I was never going to reach the portal on foot. I needed my wings to fly over the ocean, and according to Batarian, only one of his kind could release them. I needed to ingratiate myself to my hosts so that they would trust me enough to unbind my wings.

  Three, I was hungry. Really, really, really hungry. And I’d had no luck finding anything edible on this world so far. So I might as well let them refuel me before I went tripping through the wilderness again.

  I stood up carefully, wanting to get the blood flowing again, but my knees buckled. All three of the faerie started at my sudden movement and three knives appeared from nowhere.

  The third man, whose name I still did not know, brandished a dagger in one hand and my sword in the other. It was more than a little insulting to be threatened with my own blade. I wanted to rip it from his hands and knock him in the head with the hilt, just to show that I could.

  But it didn’t seem like a productive way to achieve my ends, and I would probably wind up wrapped in knots again so I held my temper. Beezle would be proud of me. If I ever saw Beezle again.

  I held up my hands to indicate that I meant no harm. The three faerie relaxed, the knives disappearing into the secret pockets from which they had emerged. Batarian spoke to Sakarian for a moment. The younger man went to the door and called to someone. There was a brief conference, and then Sakarian returned. I hoped he was arranging for food to be brought; otherwise I was going to start chewing on the furniture.

  Batarian indicated that I should sit on one of the tree-branch chairs. I eyed the seat dubiously, but it didn’t seem wise to refuse. When I settled in one, I realized I was right. It was like sitting on wicker furniture, only two thousand times less comfortable.

  The lashed branches were bumpy and round and didn’t evenly remotely conform to the shape of the human body. My bound wings made it impossible to lean comfortably against the backrest. The other three settled easily into the other chairs and appeared perfectly at ease, so it must have been comfortable to them. Me, I could have gone for a nice down-stuffed cushion and some synthetic fabric.

  I also realized my injured leg was puffy and tender. I needed to heal it, but revealing such a power in front of Batarian seemed the height of stupidity.

  Batarian followed my gaze to the arrow wound. “You need a poultice for that. Litarian.”

  The third man placed my sword next to Batarian and went out of the room. I wondered vaguely why all their names ended in “-rian.” I looked at my sword, just sitting there, leaning against the chair.

  I could grab it right then and hold it to Batarian’s throat, force them to release my wings. Except that I still had not eaten. I was starting to feel like Beezle. I didn’t really care what happened next so l
ong as someone gave me a meal.

  “What are you called?” Batarian asked.

  “Maddy,” I said. “Maddy Black.”

  No one called me Madeline except fallen angels. They liked the formality of it, I supposed.

  “Maddy Black,” Batarian said, rolling my name around in his mouth like an exotic food. “And what is it you are doing here, Maddy Black?”

  “Trying to get home,” I said honestly. “I’ve got no interest in staying here.”

  “But how is it that you have come to our land in the first place? We have had no visitors for thousands of years. This world was closed off in honor of the accord between our people and Lucifer.”

  “I kind of ended up here by accident,” I said. No need to go into the whole business with the Retrievers. “But I want to leave, believe me. And the longer you hold me prisoner, the longer it’s going to take me to get out of here.”

  “But we cannot trust that you are simply an accidental traveler and that you mean us no harm,” Batarian said. “We have only your word of this.”

  “Well, it’s not like I can prove it,” I said. “I’m a stranger here. No one is going to vouch for me.”

  “Yes, you are a stranger. A very strange stranger, I might add,” Batarian said. “One with wings.”

  “You’ve got pointy ears and a bow,” I said. “In my town that would be considered strange in itself, pal.”

  “You will not speak so disrespectfully to Lord Batarian,” Sakarian said.

  Ah. Here was familiar ground. “I speak disrespectfully to everyone. You’d better get used to it.”

  “Everyone?” Batarian raised an eyebrow. “Including Lucifer?”

  “Especially him,” I said without thinking.

  Sakarian pounced. “So you are an associate of Lucifer’s, then.”

  “‘Associate’ is too strong a term,” I said, trying to backpedal. Damn me and my stupid mouth.

  “Father, Lucifer has broken the ancient accord,” Sakarian said. “He sent this spy upon us. We should execute her immediately and assemble an army against him.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, holding my hands up in front of me in a “calm down” gesture. “Way to jump to conclusions.”