Fae Nightmare

by Sarah K. L. Wilson

  “I was picking berries,” I lied.

  “At night?”

  I tried to gesture to my blindfold, forgetting that my hands were tied behind my back and settled for a one-armed shrug. “Night or day, both are the same when you’re blind.”

  Not entirely true, but how was he to know that?

  Olen shuffled uncomfortably in his chair.

  “Interesting. And where are the berries?”

  “I dropped them when I was chased by shadows,” I said, trying to sound as if I had been frightened. “How was I to know they were the emissaries of a great Lord?”

  “Knight.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “I am a Knight, not a Lord, girl,” Eckelmeyer said sharply. “Do you know this child, Sir Chanter?”

  He turned to Olen who looked uncomfortable.

  My cheeks were growing hot. Child? I might be older than he was! Sort of.

  “She is the one I wrote to you about, Sir Eckelmeyer,” Olen said, bending his head slightly out of respect. Had he always had such terrible judgment about people? Well, he’d married Heldra. That should have made his inability to judge people pretty obvious. “I’d hoped you would bring a squire to wed her.”

  The mirror behind him remained empty. Where was Scouvrel?

  “Stand up, girl.” Eckelmeyer’s tone held interest. Uh oh. My heart seemed to freeze. The mouse didn’t like the regard of the snake – and neither did I.

  But I had to remember, I was no mouse. I was the killer of mice.

  I stood with as much grace as I could manage.

  Eckelmeyer made an exasperated sound in his throat. “Cut her free.”

  I was tugged a step backward and then my hands were free. I snatched them forward, gently rubbing the scored flesh.

  “She’s not that young, I suppose,” Eckelmeyer said as if he were judging livestock.

  He rose and rounded the table. It was all I could do not to flinch when he took my chin between two fingers, tilting my head one way and then the other. His breath smelled of mint leaves. “She might even be passable if she were well-scrubbed. And if she didn’t wear such a sour expression.”

  My hands balled into fists. I did not care if he thought I was the ugliest hag ever to have lived. In fact, I might prefer that. His judgment – his opinions – were nothing to me. But now was not the time to say that, Allie. Not the time to get yourself locked up or your throat cut.

  I bit my tongue to keep it still.

  “Do you think you might have a squire who could wed her, Sir Eckelmeyer?” Olen asked diffidently. “That would certainly solve one of my problems here. She has too much energy to live as a meek daughter, and the men here her age were minded by her as children. It won’t do to marry her to them, and yet we need a channel for all that excess energy.”

  “Hmmm,” Eckelmeyer said. “Do you have skills, girl?”

  “I can hold my tongue,” I said, more as a reminder to myself than as an actual list of my skills.

  “That remains to be seen,” Eckelmeyer countered.

  “All the girls of our village are raised to cookery, weaving, gardening, sewing, knitting, wool gathering, herding, cleaning, cheesemaking, and the other womanly arts,” Olen offered helpfully.

  Except I was no more than barely passable at those things. I had been raised to hunt and trap anything that could move. But I was no fool. I was a rabbit in the mouth of a dog right now. If I remained very still, I might yet find a chance to flee when the dog grew distracted. If I fought too hard now, he would bite down and sever my spine.

  The sly smile on Eckelmeyer’s face was making it hard not to sweat right through my clothing. I swallowed and his smile grew by a hair.

  “I think it would be best to keep this one close. That way I can determine if she was up to any kind of misadventure in the forest tonight or if she is conspiring with our enemies as Corne fears. It will also help with your concern, Sir Chanter, for I have been myself searching for a suitable wife and who knows, perhaps I could see past her blindness and plain face and bless her with my troth.”

  I was going to ‘bless’ him with my foot in his belly if he didn’t stop this nonsense.

  The mirror on the wall flickered. “What’s this, Nightmare?”

  So now he turned up! I clenched my eyes shut and willed him to silence. What if the others heard him?

  Olen cleared his throat uncomfortably.

  “You object?” Eckelemeyer asked, and the glint of satisfaction explained everything to me. Somehow, he knew that Olen and I had once been friends. Somehow, he knew that Olen still had a small soft spot for me. And he was going to use that against us both.

  “What are these mortal mice plotting, Little Nightmare? Are these your enemies? I could take their heads as trophies and hang them over my bath. Would that please you? Would it show you how valuable I am as a husband?”

  I didn’t dare answer him.

  “Of course not, Sir Eckelmeyer,” Olen stumbled over his words in his haste to respond. “Any woman would be honored to be your wife, though I’m sure your prospects are far higher than village girls.”

  “Wife! This is my challenger for your affections?” Scouvrel hooted. “I will remember the back of that head and search for it when next I enter the mortal world. This man shall pay for his presumption. I bear no challenge well.”

  As if I didn’t know that. After all, hadn’t I seen him kill two other Fae to have the inside of my cage to himself?

  “Humility is a trait every Knight should embrace,” Eckelmeyer said, impervious to the threats being leveled against him. I didn’t know if he meant that for himself or for Olen. “Go clean up, girl. I will see you back here for dinner tonight. And wear clothing that befits a woman of marriageable age rather than these farm boy rags.”

  I heard Scouvrel hiss in the background.

  I nodded, not trusting my voice – or my good luck. If I was fast, I could be well on my way to the Faewald before they caught me again.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Well, this was a fine mess. I couldn’t imagine a worse choice to lead the Court of Mortals here in Skundton than Sir Eckelmeyer. Worse, Scouvrel knew about him now, which meant the Faewald knew about him. And I didn’t like showing them our weaknesses.

  Sir Eckelmeyer was going to be very surprised when he found out to whom I was married – and how dangerous that might be to him. I had a feeling that the Knave of Courts could cause a lot of chaos for a pompous stick-in-the-mud like Eckelmeyer. That might be one benefit to being married to the Knave.

  Married! I still hadn’t made my peace with that. I hadn’t intended to marry. Certainly not to a Fae. Certainly not to Scouvrel who twisted me up in knots and made my head spin. He wasn’t safe. He wasn’t tame. I had no idea what to do about him now.

  I was shivering so hard that my teeth chattered as I scurried through town headed up the north road. And not from the cold, from all these forces freezing the life out of this place.

  It was just as close to get to the Chanters’ house from the north road or the west road, but I didn’t want to go through that west gate again and encounter those lines of soldiers.

  Soldiers! Here in Skundton. And not to defend the people, or they would be gathered around the stone circle, but to enforce their will on us. If they thought that would stop Allie Hunter, they should have brought a lot more soldiers. If I had to sneak around under their noses then I would do that – rat cloak and all.

  What had Olen Chanter thought he was doing bringing them here? Had he forgotten where he came from?

  But maybe it wasn’t entirely his fault. Maybe this was all set in motion when a mayor was elected ten years ago – the night he told me I wasn’t Hunter anymore.

  Where was good old Mayor Alebren?

  Hmmm.

  I was so rattled that I nearly ran into Goodie Thatcher on the street. I stumbled to a halt just in time to avoid a collision. She looked worn. And old.

  “Where are you off to so hastily, Allie H
unter?” she asked, but the bite her words used to carry was gone.

  “You need to get out of town, Goodie Thatcher,” I replied, trying to do my duty despite the spike of hatred I felt at the sight of her. “These soldiers are dangerous.”

  Her expression was unreadable.

  “A war is coming and they’re bringing it right into town,” I told her, trying to push her into action. “Everyone knows you gossip. Go gossip around town and tell people to get out of here. To head down the mountain and to the valley kingdoms – to go wherever they have to. But they need to flee before it’s too late.”

  She sniffed. “Tell them yourself.”

  I grabbed her sleeve. “By the time they think to listen to me it will be too late, but they’ll listen to you!”

  “I do no favors for Hunters,” Goodie Thatcher said, putting her nose in the air. “You’re what brought this trouble in the first place. It’s my daughter and son-in-law who have to clean up your mess.”

  “But it’s not Olen making those decisions anymore,” I insisted, not caring that anyone passing us in the street might hear. “It’s this new Sir Eckelmeyer. And he doesn’t care about Skundton. He won’t listen to you or to Olen or to anyone!”

  She shook her head. “You’re ten years too late to change this, girl. And I certainly won’t be joining you. Go off to the valley yourself if this town is too rich for your blood.”

  I made a frustrated sound in the back of my throat, but she pushed past me, knocking my blindfold loose and, ambling through the drifting snow, not noticing as it gathered on her shawl and greying hair. My eyes nearly popped out of my head at the sight of the edges of her fraying and tangling as if she, too, were slowly becoming Fae.

  What was going on in Skundton?

  I blew out a worried sigh, my eyes fixing on the old inn at the center of town. Across from Olen’s fancy new house and barracks. Despite the quiver in my belly at the sight of a stream of soldiers carrying supplies to the barracks, I planted my hands on my hips and strode back the way I came toward the inn. Before, it had been the only inn in town. Now, I could see that the old Thatcher home had been made into another inn and so had the Cobblers shop. They’d likely both relocated further down the road. Why hadn’t I paid attention to that before? Why hadn’t it seemed important who had been moved and who was in the center now?

  The old inn had a brand-new sign that said “Alebren Inn” – never needed before in a town with just one inn. I crossed the frozen mud of the street to the Inn, ducking under the sign and through the hand-worn doors into the inn.

  The common room was shockingly full for so early in the morning. Serving girls bustled from table to table with tea and hot porridge steaming in the crisp morning air, though a fire roared in the hearth and a cook called from the back to tell the girls to hurry. I didn’t recognize a single person in the throngs of those eating breakfast or among the serving girls.

  One of them stopped in front of me, a tray of dirty dishes in her hands. “What do you want, girl?”

  “Mayor Alebren,” I said boldly.

  “In the back.” She gestured toward a door. “But he’s not hiring if that’s why you’re asking.”

  I nodded my thanks and then pushed my way past a sweating man who smelled of fresh-cut logs and a table of men with straw sticking to their woolen clothes – likely carters – to the back room.

  I flung the door open. I would be taking no nonsense or back-talk from the mayor. This time, he would listen to me.

  By the time I closed the door behind me, blocking out the bustle of the common room, I wasn’t so certain.

  Mayor Alebren was there, alright. Slumped in his chair with a mug of something that smelled sharp and hot all at once.

  “Mayor Alebren?” I asked.

  He looked up with watery eyes. “No one has called me that in a long time, girl. It’s all Knight this and Queen that.”

  I snorted. “Well, what did you think would happen when you sent for help instead of fighting your own battles?”

  His eyes narrowed at me. “You’re that Hunter girl. Come back, have you?”

  I looked around his cluttered office. There was no window and the only candle guttered and smoked. Blankets were piled over a tufted chair in one corner and parchment was heaped on the desk beside a bottle with the same scent as his mug.

  “Don’t you ever leave this room?” I asked, aghast.

  “Don’t need to leave. Inn is fine.” He took another drink.

  “And what about the town? You’re the mayor!. Do you even know what’s going on? There’s going to be a war. People are going to die. You need to go out there and warn them. Tell them to flee and take their families with them down the mountain to the plains below.”

  “What’s it to you?” There was a slur to his words.

  I pressed my lips together, strode forward, grabbed his mug and threw the contents on the floor.

  “Hey!” He pawed at the mug and I let him take it back.

  “Enough of this!” I said, but I wasn’t sure if I was furious or hopeless now that I saw him like this. He wasn’t in charge of anything anymore. He hadn’t even left the room long enough to hear I was back. And Goodie Thatcher was no longer the queen of society in Skundton.

  Why hadn’t I noticed that in all these days?

  I’d been blinded by my family’s troubles and by trying to get back into the Faewald, by the new people and Olen’s new station, by the loss of everything I ever knew and I just hadn’t realized that the changes ran even deeper.

  “You spilled my drink.”

  I grabbed his fat chin, tipping it up. “You’re the mayor of Skundton. This is your responsibility. Rally your people. Take them to safety while you can.”

  “You do it,” he said, swatting my hand away, his head hanging forward and chin on his chest. “If you care so much, you go rescue people who don’t want to be rescued. They don’t want you. They don’t want me. They want knights and queens and they don’t care anymore that the Fae are coming to gnaw on our bones.”

  “You know that?” I asked, breathless. “You know that they are coming to kill everyone. Mayor?”

  There was a snort and his head lolled. He had passed out.

  I slammed my fist on his desk. Even that didn’t wake him.

  Skies and stars above! Would no one help save this town? Was I the only one who saw what they refused to see?

  Cursing, I left him alone to his uselessness, pushed my way through the common room and back out to the street. There was no one with authority in this town except the knights and they’d made their agenda pretty clear. I couldn’t save this town. It was too late for that.

  But there were still people I could save.

  It was time to focus and to do what I could while I was still free to do it.

  New energy filled me as I strode down the road toward the Chanters’ house. I just needed to recover the things I’d hidden in the bushes and then I’d be off to save someone.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Little Nightmare! Can you hear me?”

  I slipped behind the nearest tree, my heart hammering in my chest as I pulled out the mirror and Scouvrel’s face swam blurrily into view.

  “Shhh!” I said, looking one way and another but he didn’t listen.

  “Your sister’s army gathers in the Unicorn Steppes,” he whispered, his eyes darting to the side as if he was afraid to be overheard, too. “The Feast of Ravens comes quickly. If you have a plan to end this, you must act quickly.”

  “I don’t know what to do other than to put her in a cage, but to do that, I need to get back to the Faewald,” I said, stealing a careful glance around the tree. I heard a scuffle on the path, but I didn’t know if it was a person or my imagination.

  When I looked back, he was gone.

  I cursed.

  I did not have enough information.

  And I still hadn’t opened a path to the Faewald.

  My heart hammered in my chest.

&nbs
p; The people of two worlds had only me to hope in to prevent a war and I felt woefully inadequate to do it. But I still had to try. Because that’s what it meant to be Hunter. It meant that if something threatened your village you had to hunt it. And right now my village was being threatened within and without by two separate armies.

  Which meant that I needed to hunt them. One way, or another.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It hadn’t taken long to recover my things from the bush or to go get the sword and cage from the tree where I’d hidden them.

  “You were gone a long time,” Vhalot had growled when I picked her up.

  “I had things to attend to.”

  “I hope you killed someone for me,” she had said with a laugh.

  “It came close to that.”

  “How disappointing. Next time, make sure to complete your kill.”

  It was still early in the morning when I had snuck into the Chanters’ house and tapped quietly on my parents’ door.

  “Yes?” My mother whispered, cracking the door so I could see her.

  “You need to take Dad and leave this town. Take the Chanters, too, and every child and innocent who will go with you.”

  She opened the door the rest of the way. “It’s not so easy as that, Allie.”

  “War is coming,” I told her. “Sooner than you realize. I’ve tried to talk to Mayor Alebren and Goodie Thatcher. I’ve tried to talk to Olen. I’ve tried everything and no one is listening to me. Maybe they’ll listen to you. We need to get everyone vulnerable – all the children, all the ones with troubled minds, all the elderly – out of this town while we still can. You want me to deal with my sister? I can’t do that and also get these people to safety. Help me. Help me by getting as many people as possible clear of this.”

  She looked at me with compassion. “Allie, you were in the Faewald for ten years. You thought it was a week. If they really are planning to invade our world, it could take them months to pull together their forces, right?” I shrugged and she kept going. “You’ll be an aged grandmother before they come back here. I will be long dead. There’s no point fleeing an invasion that’s likely to never come.”