creepy hollow 03 - faerie war Page 7

  I distract myself by focusing on individual Order members. I let their emotions wash over me. I welcome them, almost to the point of letting them overwhelm me. Excitement and enthusiasm are mixed in with a sprinkling of fear. I allow the excitement to invade me and take the place of the anxiety gnawing a hole in my insides. It works—sort of.

  Grey light turns to pink, then orange, then yellow as the sun rises above the trees we’re journeying through. We don’t stop. We pass food around and wolf it down while walking. All too quickly, the sun travels across the sky and disappears behind the trees.

  Another day gone.

  Night wraps around us. Still, we keep moving. I’m not tired yet; whenever I think of what might be happening in Creepy Hollow, I’m energized. Several hours later, Yale stops us and asks someone to check the state of the faerie paths. After lightning burns a hole in the ground and half the Order winds up drenched and windswept, we manage to get the doorway closed. Yale decides we should rest for a few hours.

  The mere thought of all the time we’re wasting on this journey is enough to twist my insides into a knot. I think about continuing without the Order. After all, a single person is less conspicuous than a group of nineteen, and I won’t stop to rest unless my body is crippled with exhaustion. But Yale convinces me that showing up in the middle of faerie civilization without a force of warriors—even a small one—isn’t the best idea. Neither is dropping unconscious from exhaustion.

  The next few days pass in the same way. Someone checks the faerie paths once a day. We then rest for two or three hours. I start to wonder if faerie paths are a thing of the past. Faeries have been using them for as long as anyone can remember, but what if they never function normally again?

  On our fourth or fifth day—I’m starting to lose count—the leafy trees surrounding us give way to burned trees. Some stand with bare limbs pointing to the sky while others lie cracked and broken on the ground. I jog to the front of the group to speak to Yale.

  “Where are we? Is this the middle of nowhere or somewhere specific?”

  “I think we’re in Black Rain Ridge.”

  “Does it always look like this?” I gesture to the blackened trees.

  Yale shakes his head. “I think there’s a Guild somewhere nearby. They must know what’s going on in the rest of the world.”

  “If there’s a Guild here, we won’t find it,” I tell him. Guilds are hidden, just like faerie homes. Only those who are members here would know where the entrance is.”

  Yale exhales. “That’s disappointing.”

  I clench my jaw. That’s an understatement. I can’t believe we’re this close to a Guild but have no way of contacting them. Hopefully we’ll come close enough to the Guild’s entrance for their guards to see us. Or we’ll pass someone walking through the trees. Yes, I realize with relief. No one here can use the faerie paths, so surely people will be walking.

  “What’s that over there?” Tryce, walking on the other side of his father, points toward a pile of something through the blackened trees. From here it looks like it could be a large mound of rubbish. We head toward it. My hand tingles, ready to reach for a weapon if I need it. As we get closer, I recognize some of the shapes on the mound. An upside down table, couch cushions, a bed’s cracked headboard.

  My blood runs cold as I realize what I’m looking at. I hear a sharp intake of breath from Tryce and a whispered “No” from Yale. Murmurings behind us indicate we’re not the only ones who’ve figured out what’s in front of us.

  It’s a faerie home. At least, it was.

  Broken furniture and belongings are piled up amidst the splintered pieces of tree that once housed these belongings. The tree, which was meant to keep everything hidden and intact, must have split open.

  “There’s another one over there,” someone behind us says.

  “How is this possible?” Yale asks. “The spells concealing homes are supposed to be among the most powerful.”

  I don’t answer him. The only thought passing through my mind is that this might be what my home looks like. This might be what the whole of Creepy Hollow looks like. Oh, please, no. No no no.

  We wander through Black Rain Ridge, passing more and more destroyed homes. The only sound comes from the crunching of scorched twigs beneath our feet. There are no people. No animals or other fae. As the dim purple of twilight descends upon us, Yale suggests we try the faerie paths again.

  I volunteer. I don’t mind if I wind up drenched or covered in snow or hail. Anything to distract me from the possibility that the home I’ve always known is as bare and dead as the forest I now stand in. I pull out my stylus and start writing the words for a doorway in the air. I think of how jealous Violet used to be that this was the one thing I could easily do that she couldn’t. I’m so consumed by how much I miss her that for a moment I don’t see what’s happening right in front of me: the storm’s gone. There’s only a black hole, inviting me to walk into it.

  “It’s working!” Tryce shouts.

  It’s working.

  Hope. Relief. Determination. They’re my emotions and everyone else’s.

  “I assume you’d like to lead the way?” A hand touches my shoulder. Yale’s standing beside me.

  Hell, yes. No one could hold me back now if they tried. I nod, then grasp his hand and walk into the blackness, trusting the others will form a chain behind me. I think of my home and hold fast to that image. My home is far enough away from the Guild that if something big is going on there, we won’t arrive in the middle of it.

  Light forms in front of me as a doorway opens. It’s still afternoon here, several hours behind Black Rain Ridge. I freeze. Part of me wants to rush into the familiarity of Creepy Hollow, but part of me is terrified of what I’ll find. I steel myself for the worst and walk out of the faerie paths.

  Ruined.

  My home is ruined. A pile of broken rubble. I thought I was prepared for the possibility, but the shock of seeing it is enough to suck the breath out of me. I crouch down and place my head in my hands, ignoring the footsteps of Order members walking past me. My home is gone. I have no idea where my mother is or if she’s even alive.

  “Was this your home?” Yale asks.

  I nod. I’m not sure I trust myself to speak right now. I count to twenty, then stand as Tryce and another faerie jump off the mound of debris. “There’s no one here,” Tryce says quietly.

  No bodies, he means. Because why would a living person stay with a pile of rubble?

  “Do you want to look through your things?” Yale asks gently.

  I shake my head. I don’t want to remember my home like this.

  “Well . . . we need to decide what to do now, Ryn. Should we go to your Guild?”

  Oh, dear Seelie Queen, the Guild. Is it possible it looks just like this? Completely demolished? It can’t be. The Guild is enormous. I can’t imagine how much of the forest would be flattened if all the glamours and concealments of the Guild were shattered.

  “Just . . . give me five minutes,” I say. I turn away and write another doorway in the air. I walk through, thinking of Violet’s home, wondering if by some small chance it escaped this destruction. But when I step out of the darkness, it’s to see a scene almost exactly like the one I just left.

  A moan of despair escapes past my lips. I don’t often cry. I’m assaulted by countless emotions every day, including sorrow, but crying isn’t something I generally do. Right now, though, tears seem like the only response. I’ve never felt so lost and helpless. I don’t know how this happened or who did it. I don’t know where anyone is. I don’t know who’s alive, who’s captured, who’s free. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing tears back before they come. I climb onto the heap, searching the clutter as I go. My heart speeds up with each piece of furniture I move aside; I’m terrified I’ll find a body beneath one of them. I reach the top of the pile having found nothing. It’s a relief, but I still feel lost. If Violet ha
sn’t come looking for me it’s because she can’t. She’s either captured or . . .

  I don’t want to consider the other possibility.

  I look down at a drawer lying beside splinters of wood. Brightly colored ribbons catch my attention. The ribbons from Violet’s grandmother. The ribbons I had Raven make into a bracelet. I crouch down and remove them from the drawer. I wind the ribbons around my fingers before pushing the multi-colored loop into one of my pockets. Then I take the tokehari ring Violet’s father gave her and add it to the ribbons. I’ll give these things to her when I find her. Because I will find her.

  I stand and navigate back down the wreckage. I’m about to open a doorway to return to my home when I hear a whimper nearby. I swivel my head around, searching. When I hear the sound again, I step toward the tree I think it came from. A glowing knife tingles in my hand. Before I can take another step, a squirrel drops from one of the charred branches and lands on the ground. It stares up at me with large eyes before shifting into a white mink.

  “Filigree?”

  He squeaks and bounds toward me. He crawls all the way up my body and wraps himself around my neck. I pull him gently away and hold him in front of my face. “Do you know anything about Violet? Do you know where she is?”

  He squeaks, reaching for my neck once more. I hold him closer, like a child hugging a toy, and listen to his pitiful whimpers.

  I’ll take that as a ‘no.’

  I let him wrap himself around my neck as I open a doorway and head back to my ruined home. I see a few raised eyebrows when people notice the shapeshifter pet clinging to me, but no one says anything.

  “Okay, let’s figure out what to do next,” I say to the group. “We need to check out the Guild, but we should definitely approach it carefully.”

  “That won’t be happening.” I jerk to the side and find the owner of the voice stepping in front of a tree. The two knives that appeared in my hands vanish when I see who it is.

  “Dale.” Relief washes over me at the sight of my friend, although it’s hard to feel it amidst all the panic I’m receiving from everyone else in the group. “You’re okay.”

  A strange smile curls on his lips. “Got you,” he says, then raises his bow and arrow and shoots at me.

  Filigree leaps off my neck as I hurl myself out of the way. The arrow strikes a tree with a thwip as I reach into the air for my knives. “Dale, what the hell, man?”

  Ten or so faeries, all dressed in the same dark blue uniform, spill through a doorway behind Dale. Male and female, some I recognize and others I’ve never seen before. Guardians and Unseelie faeries fighting together. I never thought it would happen.

  “Try to take them alive,” one shouts.

  And the fighting begins. Arrows sail through the air along with sparks of all colors. Blades clang and clash. Bats and birds and shards of ice get thrown around. I dodge a small knife spinning end over end toward me and shoot an arrow at Dale before he can throw another blade. Bright green sparks singe my hair, but I drop to the ground before they can do more damage. I coax mist out of my hands and send it toward our enemies. It’ll buy us a few moments to figure out what to do next.

  How did they know exactly where to find us? And how are we supposed to get away? Will we have to kill them? I don’t want that, but it’s not like they’re going to let us leave. I stand up and back out of the way as an Order member runs into the mist brandishing a sword and shouting some kind of battle cry.

  Okay, nineteen of us and about twelve of them. We don’t all need to be fighting . . .

  I search our group, looking for the weak links. I grab the two Orders members who seem to be doing the worst job of holding off our enemies: the youngest faerie and one of the women. I grab Tryce as well because he obviously didn’t answer my question correctly when I asked if he knew how to fight.

  I pull them back. “Have you stunned anyone before?” I ask quickly.

  “Yes,” the woman says, “but that takes a lot of—” She shrieks as a bird with talons the size of dragon teeth soars toward us. It slams into my hurriedly thrown up shield and evaporates into a puff of smoke.

  “A lot of power, yes.” I hold my hand up, hoping the shield will remain there while I’m talking. “Stay back here where we can protect you and gather as much power as possible. Then stun whoever you can.”

  “But what if—”

  “No buts. We’ll never get away if we don’t stun these guys.”

  I head back into the melee where the mist is clearing. I go for Dale first because I know I can beat him; I’ve always been faster and stronger. Before he can shoot another arrow or throw a blade my way, I barrel right into him. The sparkling bow vanishes from his grasp as we slam onto the ground. I’m about to pummel him when I get his knee in my chest. I struggle for breath.

  “Don’t fight this, Ryn,” he says. “Draven is the master our world has always needed. You’ll see that eventually.”

  Draven? Who the hell is he?

  Dale pulls his hand back and closes it in a fist, but not before I see a circular shape inked in black on his palm. I grab the fist before it can reach my face and twist. I don’t want to break his wrist—it makes me sick to hurt a friend, even a friend as annoying as Dale—but I will if I have to.

  “Aargh!” Dale’s fist slips from my grasp as an arrow pierces my shoulder. He forces me off him. A moment later I find myself on my back with a knee in my chest and a hand around my neck.

  “Just give in now before I have to hurt you,” he says. “You can’t get away. The faerie paths are monitored now. Draven will find you no matter where you run.”

  The faerie paths are monitored?

  “Not . . . happening,” I gasp. Dale’s observation skills clearly haven’t improved since we were last together, because he hasn’t noticed the knife I now have in one of my hands. I bring it straight down into his thigh, muttering “Sorry” at the same time because even though he’s trying to strangle me, he is still my friend.

  While Dale yells and grips his bleeding leg, I scramble up, yank the arrow from my shoulder, and remember that one of the weapons in my invisible arsenal is a wooden beam. I haven’t used it much, but now seems like a good time. I reach mentally for it, holding my hands out to grasp the large, glittering thing. I swing it across the legs of an advancing faerie. He falls forward and rolls across the blackened ground. I pull the beam back, then whack Dale over the head with it. He slumps to the ground without another sound.

  I stand up, my bow and arrow already in my hands. I aim and let loose, but before the arrow can find its target, the guardian I was aiming at is thrown backward by an invisible force. He drops onto the ground and lies still. Stunned. Another two guardians drop down seconds later. That only leaves—I scan our attackers quickly for sparkling weapons—one other guardian. Easy. I can handle that.

  I run to where four Order members are fighting one faerie. “You!” I pull one of them away. “Start gathering power to stun. And you.” I point to someone else leaning against a tree grasping his upper arm where blood gushes from a wound. “Same thing.”

  I crouch down, then jump. An extra spurt of magic helps shoot me into the air and onto a branch. Bow and arrow. Aim. Let go. Thwip—into the guardian’s arm. Thwip—into his side.

  With an angry shout, the guardian backs away from the three Order members fighting him—who I hope will be intelligent enough to preserve their magic now and try stunning someone. He makes eye contact with me, then throws his hand forward. Magic shoots out at a remarkable speed. I jump backward and somersault through the air before landing on my feet.

  He’s already running at me, the arrows I shot at him removed from his body. I plant my feet on the ground; no way is this guy going to knock me over. The second he reaches me, I turn, arms raised, to let my side take the full force of his blow. Then I strike. Hands and feet, kicking, jabbing, punching. We dance around each other. I spring forward with another punch, then hook my foot behind his knee. He stumbles back
ward. I spin and kick, and my boot strikes his stomach, throwing him back against a tree.

  The wooden beam is in my hands again. As he lurches forward, I swing it. The beam slams into his forehead, knocking him flat on his back. He groans, and I give him one final whack. He lies still.

  I stare down at him, at the bleeding gash on his forehead. I hate that I did this to a guardian. Someone I recognize from my very own Guild. We’re supposed to be on the same side. Why was he fighting me?

  “Oryn!”

  I spin and duck automatically, the beam vanishing from my hands as I spread my arms out for balance. A faerie—not a guardian—slashes at me with a black-bladed knife as she runs past. Ignoring the pain flaring across my cheek, I flick my wrist out. By the time I’ve finished the motion, a shining whip is in my hand, already curving through the air toward the faerie. The whip snaps around her ankle. I yank it back, pulling her onto the ground. She rolls over, raises the knife—and her arm drops to the ground. Eyes closed, her head rolls to the side.

  I look up and see Yale, his arms outstretched and his face still screwed up with the effort it must have taken to stun the Unseelie faerie. He lowers his arms, looking around through the semi-darkness and seeing the same thing I see: all our assailants have been stunned or knocked out. “Let’s get out of here,” he pants, reaching for his stylus.

  “Don’t open a doorway!” I say. “The paths aren’t safe. That’s how they found us. We have to run.” I grab the fallen faerie at my feet and toss her over my shoulder. We can question her later. A small, furry forms drops onto my shoulder and scurries down my arm into my jacket pocket. I pat the pocket.

  Then I run.

  *

  We don’t stop running for at least an hour. Well, running isn’t quite the word; it’s more like stumbling or hobbling as fast as the injured will allow us to go. The forest is in complete darkness now. Only the orbs produced by those of us who still have energy illuminate the forest floor ahead. When it becomes clear no one is following us, we slow down to check if any wounds need immediate attention. I’m a little concerned about the blood still dripping down one side of my face. The cut should have begun to heal by now.