creepy hollow 03 - faerie war Page 15

  Amon closes his eyes and shudders. He holds up a shaking hand, free of Draven’s mark. “I’m s-so glad you found me.”

  “Here, take my hand,” I say. Snowflakes drift onto my arm as I lean over the edge of the carpet and reach out toward Amon. He looks up at me, his moss green eyes filled with fear.

  “Violet. You’re okay too.” He detaches one arm from the trunk and wraps his hand around mine. “I was starting to think I’d die out here.” With a clumsy jump, he lands on the carpet beside me. He’s a skinny man, lacking the athletic build I’m used to seeing on faeries who are guardians. “You should go quickly,” he says. “There are guardians down there. Traitor guardians.”

  The shield reappears, and Ryn turns the carpet around. Seconds later, we shoot away through the sky. Em, Max, and Fin introduce themselves as Amon pulls off the damp, green cloak he was wearing. It probably doesn’t belong to him, considering how short it is.

  “So you escaped from the Guild, Amon?” Max asks. “Where’ve you been hiding since The Destruction?”

  “Underground, with the dwarves. There was a massive explosion at our Guild. I got out of there as fast as I could. The messenger dwarves were running too, so I ran with them. I think most guardians who survived stuck around to find out what was going on and to fight whoever was attacking us, but I . . .” Guilt twists his features. “I mean, I-I . . . I’m just a librarian. I don’t know how to fight.”

  “Hey, no one blames you for running,” Em says. “You probably would’ve ended up brainwashed if you’d stayed there, and that wouldn’t have done you or anyone else any good.”

  “And guess what?” Max adds. “The base we’re heading back to has a library. It’s small, I think, but it’s still a library. You’ll feel right at home.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful.” Something resembling a smile finds its way onto Amon’s face but doesn’t stay there long. The poor man seems traumatized.

  “What were you doing in that tree?” I ask.

  “Draven’s men invaded the dwarves’ portion of the tunnels. We ran, and I somehow ended up separated from them. I knew I couldn’t use the faerie paths, and I certainly couldn’t outrun trained guardians or anyone else from Draven’s army, so I climbed. Haven’t done that in . . .” he shrugs and shakes his head “. . . well, centuries, I suppose. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do it. I guess fear gave me the strength I needed.”

  “Fear can do that,” Fin says quietly.

  Max and Em nod in agreement. I look at Ryn to see if he’s nodding too, but he’s facing the front of the carpet. Both of his hands are flat on the carpet’s surface as he directs its journey through the sky. He’s probably thinking of his marked mother, not listening to us.

  “And then the five of you suddenly appeared,” Amon continues, “and I honestly thought it was them. I thought that was the end for me.”

  “Well, you can relax now,” Em says, patting his shoulder. “We’re a lot better hidden than the dwarves.”

  “That’s good. I’m starting to think we might have to hide for the rest of our lives.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Max says. “We have a weapon that’s capable of destroying Draven. We just need to figure out how to use it.”

  Ryn twists around and frowns at Max with a shake of his head.

  “We’re not supposed to know about that, remember?” Em mutters between clenched teeth.

  “You . . . have a weapon?” Amon asks as his eyes flit between Max, Ryn, and Em. “Is that the one I’ve read about in old texts? Guarded by a secret Order?”

  Ryn turns fully, surprise on his face. I feel the carpet begin to slow as he says, “You know about it?”

  “Well, I’ve been around a lot longer than you may think. Lots of time to read. Study. Learn things. Find out about Tharros and his history.”

  Ryn slowly swivels back to face the front. The carpet speeds up as soon as he places his palms down. “You know what, Amon?” he says. “I’m really glad we found you. I have a feeling you’re going to be a valuable addition to our base.”

  *

  “I don’t understand why it didn’t work,” Oliver says. He dumps Ryn’s bag of useless cures onto Uri’s desk and drops into one of the chairs. “It worked on the prisoner we had. The mark is gone from her hand, and she’s horrified at the things she believed and did. Why didn’t it work on your mother?”

  “No idea,” Ryn says. He paces to one side of the cramped office attached to Uri’s lab and leans against the wall with his arms crossed. He hasn’t said much since we arrived back.

  “Perhaps it was specific to the prisoner,” I say. Since it’s only Oliver, Ryn, Uri, and me in the room, I don’t mind making a suggestion that might be way off. There aren’t many people to embarrass myself in front of. “Perhaps . . . perhaps you have to make a new cure for each person.”

  I sincerely hope I’m way off.

  Uri shifts in his chair on the other side of the desk. “As disheartening as that sounds, it’s a possibility. I did use the prisoner’s mark as a basis for creating the cure.”

  “Well, that’s hardly practical, having to make a new cure for each person,” Oliver says. He places his hands on Uri’s desk and pushes himself to his feet. “So, capturing masses of marked fae in order to cure them isn’t a plan that’s going to work out.”

  “For more reasons than just a faulty cure,” Ryn mutters.

  Oliver walks over to him and places a hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re upset about your mother, but you can’t let that distract you from your determination to fight Draven’s rule. In fact, it should strengthen your resolve to see his reign ended. You’re an excellent guardian, Ryn. I don’t want to see this bring you down.”

  I feel an ache in my heart for Ryn. He just found out his mother is fighting for the other side. He may never get her back, in which case she’s as good as dead to him now, and Oliver won’t even allow him a few hours to mourn her. Having seen a little of his temper, I expect Ryn to respond with anger. Instead, he straightens somewhat and uncrosses his arms.

  “Yes, sir,” he says quietly, his eyes never leaving the floor.

  “Good. Now, you can still catch a few hours of sleep before breakfast. After that, we’ll be meeting to put a plan in place to find this Star person.” His gaze lingers on me, and the fear that I won’t be able to find the Star settles on me once more. “The sooner we find her, the sooner we can make our move against Draven.”

  Oliver leaves through the laboratory. Uri climbs out of his chair and comes around his desk to stand beside me. His head barely reaches my shoulder. “You should probably rest while you can,” he says. “You never know when you’ll have another chance.”

  Ryn nods. Without a word, he heads out to the lab. I follow him.

  “Oh, and Vi,” Uri adds. I turn back to where he’s standing in the doorway between the lab and his office. “I’m working on a potion for you, but . . .” With a frown, he picks up a round object from a counter attached to the wall. “This wasn’t here earlier,” he mutters. “I’m not sure what this . . .” He shakes his head and replaces the object. “Anyway. Uh, yes, I’m not happy with the potion yet. I’ll keep you informed.”

  “Thanks.” I hurry out of the lab after Ryn, wondering if I can really trust a scatterbrained potion maker who made me a dodgy potion once before.

  “Ryn,” I call out as he turns a corner at the end of the corridor. He stops and waits for me. “Um, are you okay? About your mother. I mean, I know you’re obviously not okay with it, but . . . I guess what I’m asking is . . . how are you doing?”

  Stop. Blabbering.

  Ryn gives me a small smile. “I’m . . . a whole lot of things. Angry, upset, worried, determined. I knew there was a possibility of my mom being marked, but it was still a shock to find out for sure. Oliver’s right, though. I . . .” He runs a hand through his hair and looks away from me. “I have a tendency to act without thinking when it comes to the people I love. But I can’t let that h
appen anymore. I need to be sensible. We need to plan properly. That’s the only way we can bring Draven down.”

  I nod. I can’t help wondering if I’m one of the people he loves.

  “Well, I’ll see you at breakfast in a few hours,” he says. He leans toward me—to kiss me? Hug me?—then blinks and takes a step back, as though suddenly remembering that this is the new me and not the old me.

  With a sigh, he heads upstairs. I follow after a moment.

  Up in my room, I lie on the bed without bothering to change my clothes. I roll onto my stomach and think about sending a message to Jamon. Or Farah or Natesa. I miss them. I have no amber to send a message from, though. I’ll have to visit the second floor below ground to see if they can help me out. I also need to ask someone about my father. I know he’s working for the Seelie Queen, so he can’t just leave to come and visit me, but does he even know that I’m here? Would he want to come and visit me if he did?

  I haven’t asked Ryn anything about him, mainly because I’m afraid of what the answers might be. The kind of father who would fake his death and abandon his daughter might not be the kind of father I want to know about.

  After turning over several more times, I eventually fall into a light sleep. I drift below the surface of reality. My dreams become bumpy, rocking me over a sea of trees and snow. An explosion erupts somewhere in the forest ahead of me. I feel myself falling—and I sit up with a start.

  People are shouting. The ground shudders.

  The explosion was real.

  I jump off the bed and rush to my door. I throw it open—and almost collide with Ryn.

  “What the hell is—”

  “I don’t know.” He grabs my hand and drags me through the throng of people rushing around in the corridor. “I’m guessing we’re under attack. We need to get out of here.”

  “What?” I pull my hand out of his grip and stop running. “No, if the base is under attack, we have to help defend—”

  “You’re our only hope of finding the Star, Violet.” He grips my shoulders and bends to look me in the eye. “I’m not going to let you die here fighting brainwashed warriors when our real fight is against Draven.”

  “But we can’t leave everyone to—”

  “Oliver!” Ryn reaches out and grabs Oliver’s arm as he hurries by. “Do I have permission to get Violet out of here?”

  “Yes! Go!” Oliver makes a shooing motion with his hands. He turns to leave, but Ryn won’t let go of his arm.

  “Where’s the sword?” he asks.

  Oliver hesitates, then leans closer to Ryn. “My room. Break open the wooden paneling behind my bed and you’ll find it.” Then he hurries away, shouting at the top of his voice, “You all know where you should be right now!”

  “I’m taking Arthur!” Ryn yells after him before catching my hand once again. He pulls me through the crowd, against the flow of people still tugging on shoes and items of clothing as they run. I realize we’re by my door again when he says, “Get your jacket and shoes. I’ll get the sword. Meet me down at transportation.”

  My brain kicks into action and sends me dashing into my room. I shove my arms into the thick, padded jacket Farah gave me. I roll up my few belongings, including the not-so-white-anymore cloak, and stuff them into my bag. I pull my boots on; they lace themselves up to my knees as I run out the door, my bag bouncing on my back.

  I make my way to the corridor with the pole. When I get there, though, I see a hole in the floor and no pole. The tiles around the hole are cracked and broken.

  I turn around and try to remember the way to the nearest staircase. There’s no one to ask. The base has become eerily silent. I start running, knowing I’ll come across stairs soon enough. I round another corner and see the main stairway. I dash toward it, but as I reach the top step, another explosion shatters the silence. The ground shudders beneath my feet, and I slip and tumble down several stairs before I’m able to stop myself.

  “Vi!” Ryn jumps down the stairs and pulls me to my feet. He has a sword and a bag slung over his back. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  The tremor is gone, but I keep my hand on the banister anyway as we run down. Just in case. Dust hangs in the air, and by the time we reach the next level down, we can barely see through the greyish haze. Instead of smooth tiles, I feel rubble crumbling beneath my boots. I stop running and look around. “This is where it happened,” I whisper. My eyes search for movement, but I see none. Whoever did this is either hiding or has moved on to attack another level.

  “Come on,” Ryn says, his foot already on the next step leading down.

  “Wait, isn’t this the level with Uri’s lab?”

  “Yes. Lab, Training Center, spare weapons.”

  “Shouldn’t we—”

  “No.” He takes my hand and pulls me after him. “As selfish as it sounds, you have to think of yourself right now, not Uri. That’s the only way we can end this.”

  We keep running down. Ryn doesn’t let go of my hand. We reach the transport level, but instead of turning left toward the room where the magic carpet is, Ryn sprints across the landing strip to a door almost as wide as the entire dining room upstairs. Two massive levers attached to the door sit in a horizontal position. Ryn goes to the one on the left and points to the other. “Lift that, would you?”

  I get beneath the lever and push up—with the help of a little magic—until the lever is vertical.

  “Okay,” Ryn says as he grasps a handle at the bottom of the door. “Don’t freak out.” In one swift motion, he slides the door all the way up.

  “Why would I—Oh my freak.” I jump back as an enormous clawed foot slams down on the ground beside me. Scales the color of a burning sun cover a face that rises toward the ceiling high above us. The roar that follows almost deafens me, and the flames that curl from its mouth sear the air.

  “A dragon?” I say. “We’re riding a dragon?”

  “Yup. This is Arthur.”

  “That. Is. So. Cool.”

  Ryn looks at me with new appreciation. “I didn’t know you were a dragon fan.”

  I didn’t either, but I’m almost certain that rushing through the air on a magic carpet is nothing compared to the thrill of soaring the skies on a dragon’s back. “I guess you never asked.”

  We enter the enclosure, which, although enchanted to look like a forest clearing, isn’t exactly big. I imagine Arthur can barely spread his wings in here. Ryn lays a hand on one of Arthur’s forelegs, and the dragon bends down so we can climb onto the harness on his back. His scales are smooth and cooler than I expected.

  “Is he friendly?” I ask as I settle behind Ryn onto Aruthur’s back.

  “Sure. To people he knows.” Ryn pats the dragon’s neck. “And yes, he knows me.”

  Arthur stands up. His body rolls and sways as he heads out of the enclosure, and I almost slide off his back. I grab onto Ryn’s jacket.

  “Here, put this around your waist.” Ryn reaches down for a strap attached to one side of the harness. “Wrap it around yourself once, then clip it in on the other side. Okay, can we speed things up a little, Arthur? We’re kind of in a hurry.”

  Arthur lurches forward, and I grab onto Ryn once more. The strap around my waist doesn’t feel like nearly enough to hold me in place. Arthur raises his wings, then brings them down again. Again and again, faster each time. Wind gusts around us, and soon we’re in the air, swooping toward the end of the strip. Instead of hitting the wall, it vanishes the moment we reach it. I remember the river at the last second and take a deep breath of air, tensing in preparation for the ice cold water. It never hits me, though.

  “Good thing one of us remembered to put a shield up,” Ryn says. I open my eyes and see a bubble of air separating us from the dark water. It disappears a moment later as Arthur breaks the river’s surface. His powerful wings lift us from the water, splashing us with ice-cold droplets as they sweep through the air.

  I half expect to see the valley overrun w
ith Draven’s warriors, but there’s no one out here. I twist my head around and look back at the waterfall hiding the base and the intruders that managed to find their way in. I feel like a coward, flying away from a fight that people we care about will probably die in.

  “Stop it,” Ryn says. “It’s your responsibility to find the Star. It would’ve been irresponsible of you to stay and fight, so stop feeling guilty that you left.”

  I duck my head down behind his back—finding a space somewhere between the sword and bag—to shield my face from the wind’s chill. I raise my voice and say, “And what about you? Don’t you feel guilty at all?”

  He hesitates before saying, “Of course I do. The rest of my team’s back there. My father’s there. But it was more important to get you out safely, and you weren’t going to do it on your own.”

  I know he’s right.

  We soar up and out of the valley. The bright light that flashes around us as we pass through the protective dome causes Arthur to roar and twist around. He blasts the now-invisible dome with fire before Ryn manages to calm him down. He snorts, sending a puff of smoke into the air, before gliding away from the valley across land that becomes more densely covered in white the further we go.

  Now that I don’t feel like I’m about to fall off, I shift away from Ryn slightly and release my hold on him. I bet he was enjoying having my arms wrapped around his chest, but I don’t want him to get the wrong idea. I raise my arms at my sides and tilt my head back. The wind whips at my hair and pushes at my arms. My fingers grow numb from the cold, but I don’t mind, because when I close my eyes, it feels like I’m flying.

  Exhilaration.

  “Having a Titanic moment back there?” Ryn asks.

  I open my eyes and lower my arms. “What?”

  “Never mind.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “You never did get any of my movie references.”

  I look over Ryn’s shoulder to see where we’re heading. On the horizon, a faint orange haze means dawn’s about to break. Ryn leans forward along Arthur’s neck and says something I don’t recognize. Perhaps there’s a special dragon language I don’t know about. I open my mouth to ask, but Arthur makes a sudden drop toward the earth, leaving my stomach hanging somewhere up in the air above. A shriek escapes me, and I catch hold of Ryn.