An Artificial Night
Page 45
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
Much to my relief, Raj nodded. “I think so. Almost everyone is tired. They should sleep for a little while.”
“Good. Just don’t let them leave the trees. Do you remember the lady of these woods?”
“The yellow woman?” he asked.
“Yes, her. Her name is Acacia. If anything happens, go to her. Tell her I couldn’t make it back, but that Luna is expecting you. She’ll help you.” I hope, I added silently. I had to give Raj something to cling to; if I was leaving him in charge, he had to hold things together. That meant he needed to believe he had a way out. “If we don’t come back . . .”
Raj nodded. “I understand.”
“Auntie Birdie?”
I winced. “Yes, puss?” I said, as I turned.
Jessica was behind me, expression pleading as she grabbed my arm. “Please don’t leave me. Please don’t go. I’ll be good. Just please, please, don’t go.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” I hugged her tightly, careful to hold my candle away from her hair. “I’m sorry. I have to.”
“Will you come back?”
I pushed her out to arm’s length, expression grave.“I’ll try, baby.” Looking back to Raj, I said, “If we don’t come back, find Acacia. She’ll get you out.” If she could.
“All right,” Raj said.
Jessica made a soft mewling noise, beginning to cry. I gave her a final hug and pried her hands off my arms as I turned to walk out of the woods, Quentin close behind me. Spike trailed us to the edge of the trees before stopping, clearly intending to stay where it was most needed. Good. Between Spike and Raj, I could almost believe the kids would be all right without us.
“Toby?” Quentin said.
“Yeah?”
“I . . .” He stopped, searching for words. He couldn’t thank me.
I smiled wryly. “I know. Come on.” I offered my hand. He took it, and together, we stepped out onto the plains.
The distance between the forest and Blind Michael’s village hadn’t increased while we were in the trees, a small blessing, and one we needed very much. We crossed the plains quickly, moving with more confidence now that it was a familiar journey. That was good, because the stakes were higher, and this was our last try. We’d get Katie and get out, or the odds were good that we wouldn’t get out at all. My candle burned clean the entire way, and that made me nervous. Blind Michael had to be expecting me. Either the Luidaeg’s protections were working better than I’d dared to dream, or we were walking into a trap. I honestly couldn’t have guessed one way or the other. All we could do was keep going.
We saw no one as we entered the village and began moving from building to building, searching for something that could make a feasible stable. Blind Michael’s horses were alive and mortal. That meant they’d need food and water to survive, as well as enough space to stay healthy. There should be a paddock of some sort, and a place where they could be exercised . . .
I stopped, sniffing the air. Everything in Blind Michael’s lands smelled foul and rancid, but this was something different, something under the decay.
I smelled human blood.
“Come on,” I said, turning to head deeper into the village. “This way.”
Looking puzzled, Quentin followed as I moved deeper and deeper into the cluster of ramshackle buildings, letting the distant smell of blood serve as my guide. It was human; I was sure of that now, and so strong that it was practically visible. I glanced to Quentin, who was pacing me with a look of grim determination on his face, but no outward signs of knowing where we were going. He was Daoine Sidhe, and the smell of mortal blood was strong enough to be almost choking. He should have smelled it before I did. So why didn’t he?
Before I could follow that train of thought any further, the trail ceased to be a trail, resolving instead into a thick miasma of blood, manure, and spoiled grain, surrounding a rickety building whose walls were patched with a dozen types of decaying wood. A second roof had been constructed beneath the shattered remains of the original. Lanterns hung from each corner, casting pools of sharply delineated light and shadow across the ground. There was no door, just a broad, open archway leading to the inside. There was no point in locking the stable. Who would be stupid enough to steal these horses?
I waved for Quentin to stay back. He obeyed, scowling. His posture told me that he wanted to bolt inside, but his training was stronger. He’d been hurt before. He wasn’t going to get hurt again just because he didn’t listen to me.
Already dreading what we were going to find, I approached the archway. If it was too late to save Katie, none of my efforts to keep Quentin safe would be any good, because it would break him. He was too young to be hurt that way and not be changed by it. Maybe we’re always too young for that.
“Toby . . .”
“Come on.” The candle was still burning blue. I started forward, motioning for him to follow.
Inside, the stable was just one long, low room, lit by lanterns like the ones we’d seen outside. They cast a sickly white light, making it harder to see, rather than easier. Rotting straw covered the floor, and strange things I assumed were used for the care and tending of horses hung on the far wall. I recognized the saddles. And the whips. Stalls lined the walls on either side, their doors sealed with gates of brambles and twisted wire. Wails and whimpers came from inside, muffled and modulated into high, nickering screams. They didn’t sound like children. They barely sounded human.
Horses, I thought numbly. Faerie children are his Riders, and the human-born are his horses. I’d been warned, but somehow knowing that it was real made it worse. There are few things I can think of that are worse than unwilling transformation.
Quentin stopped beside me and tensed, taking a sharp breath. I put a hand on his arm, keeping him where he was.
“We’re taking this slow, Quentin. All right?” He blinked at me, expression betraying no understanding. “All right?” I repeated. He nodded. I relaxed marginally, taking my hand off his arm. “Good. Follow me.” I started down the length of the room, keeping close to the wall. Quentin followed, his footsteps sounding dangerously loud even through the muffling straw.
Now we just needed to figure out which stall Katie was in without opening every door. Filling the stable with panicked human children would be a fast way to bring the guards down on our heads—if they weren’t already en route.
“Good. Just don’t let them leave the trees. Do you remember the lady of these woods?”
“The yellow woman?” he asked.
“Yes, her. Her name is Acacia. If anything happens, go to her. Tell her I couldn’t make it back, but that Luna is expecting you. She’ll help you.” I hope, I added silently. I had to give Raj something to cling to; if I was leaving him in charge, he had to hold things together. That meant he needed to believe he had a way out. “If we don’t come back . . .”
Raj nodded. “I understand.”
“Auntie Birdie?”
I winced. “Yes, puss?” I said, as I turned.
Jessica was behind me, expression pleading as she grabbed my arm. “Please don’t leave me. Please don’t go. I’ll be good. Just please, please, don’t go.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” I hugged her tightly, careful to hold my candle away from her hair. “I’m sorry. I have to.”
“Will you come back?”
I pushed her out to arm’s length, expression grave.“I’ll try, baby.” Looking back to Raj, I said, “If we don’t come back, find Acacia. She’ll get you out.” If she could.
“All right,” Raj said.
Jessica made a soft mewling noise, beginning to cry. I gave her a final hug and pried her hands off my arms as I turned to walk out of the woods, Quentin close behind me. Spike trailed us to the edge of the trees before stopping, clearly intending to stay where it was most needed. Good. Between Spike and Raj, I could almost believe the kids would be all right without us.
“Toby?” Quentin said.
“Yeah?”
“I . . .” He stopped, searching for words. He couldn’t thank me.
I smiled wryly. “I know. Come on.” I offered my hand. He took it, and together, we stepped out onto the plains.
The distance between the forest and Blind Michael’s village hadn’t increased while we were in the trees, a small blessing, and one we needed very much. We crossed the plains quickly, moving with more confidence now that it was a familiar journey. That was good, because the stakes were higher, and this was our last try. We’d get Katie and get out, or the odds were good that we wouldn’t get out at all. My candle burned clean the entire way, and that made me nervous. Blind Michael had to be expecting me. Either the Luidaeg’s protections were working better than I’d dared to dream, or we were walking into a trap. I honestly couldn’t have guessed one way or the other. All we could do was keep going.
We saw no one as we entered the village and began moving from building to building, searching for something that could make a feasible stable. Blind Michael’s horses were alive and mortal. That meant they’d need food and water to survive, as well as enough space to stay healthy. There should be a paddock of some sort, and a place where they could be exercised . . .
I stopped, sniffing the air. Everything in Blind Michael’s lands smelled foul and rancid, but this was something different, something under the decay.
I smelled human blood.
“Come on,” I said, turning to head deeper into the village. “This way.”
Looking puzzled, Quentin followed as I moved deeper and deeper into the cluster of ramshackle buildings, letting the distant smell of blood serve as my guide. It was human; I was sure of that now, and so strong that it was practically visible. I glanced to Quentin, who was pacing me with a look of grim determination on his face, but no outward signs of knowing where we were going. He was Daoine Sidhe, and the smell of mortal blood was strong enough to be almost choking. He should have smelled it before I did. So why didn’t he?
Before I could follow that train of thought any further, the trail ceased to be a trail, resolving instead into a thick miasma of blood, manure, and spoiled grain, surrounding a rickety building whose walls were patched with a dozen types of decaying wood. A second roof had been constructed beneath the shattered remains of the original. Lanterns hung from each corner, casting pools of sharply delineated light and shadow across the ground. There was no door, just a broad, open archway leading to the inside. There was no point in locking the stable. Who would be stupid enough to steal these horses?
I waved for Quentin to stay back. He obeyed, scowling. His posture told me that he wanted to bolt inside, but his training was stronger. He’d been hurt before. He wasn’t going to get hurt again just because he didn’t listen to me.
Already dreading what we were going to find, I approached the archway. If it was too late to save Katie, none of my efforts to keep Quentin safe would be any good, because it would break him. He was too young to be hurt that way and not be changed by it. Maybe we’re always too young for that.
“Toby . . .”
“Come on.” The candle was still burning blue. I started forward, motioning for him to follow.
Inside, the stable was just one long, low room, lit by lanterns like the ones we’d seen outside. They cast a sickly white light, making it harder to see, rather than easier. Rotting straw covered the floor, and strange things I assumed were used for the care and tending of horses hung on the far wall. I recognized the saddles. And the whips. Stalls lined the walls on either side, their doors sealed with gates of brambles and twisted wire. Wails and whimpers came from inside, muffled and modulated into high, nickering screams. They didn’t sound like children. They barely sounded human.
Horses, I thought numbly. Faerie children are his Riders, and the human-born are his horses. I’d been warned, but somehow knowing that it was real made it worse. There are few things I can think of that are worse than unwilling transformation.
Quentin stopped beside me and tensed, taking a sharp breath. I put a hand on his arm, keeping him where he was.
“We’re taking this slow, Quentin. All right?” He blinked at me, expression betraying no understanding. “All right?” I repeated. He nodded. I relaxed marginally, taking my hand off his arm. “Good. Follow me.” I started down the length of the room, keeping close to the wall. Quentin followed, his footsteps sounding dangerously loud even through the muffling straw.
Now we just needed to figure out which stall Katie was in without opening every door. Filling the stable with panicked human children would be a fast way to bring the guards down on our heads—if they weren’t already en route.
