creepy hollow 03 - faerie war

  Plummeting.

  Air rushing.

  The ground growing closer.

  And . . . suddenly we’re gliding again, Arthur’s wings spreading wide to catch the currents in the air. He banks and swoops past a clump of bushes before landing.

  I push away from Ryn and slide down Arthur’s leg. “You did that on purpose.”

  “What, you didn’t enjoy that?” Ryn climbs down with an innocent expression. “I thought you were looking forward to the rush of riding a dragon.”

  “The rush of riding a dragon, yes. The rush of plummeting to my death? No.”

  “Don’t be silly,” he says, which somehow annoys me even more than the fact that he just tried to scare me. “You’re a faerie. You would’ve caught yourself long before you hit the ground.” He reaches over his shoulder and removes the sword and bag from his back. Then he pulls out a cloak, speaks words to enlarge it, and lays it on the frozen ground. He sits down on it and places the sword in front of him. “Let’s figure out where the Star is.”

  Anxiety zings through me, replacing my irritation. I sit down on the cloak opposite Ryn and cross my legs.

  “Hey, there’s really no need to be anxious about this.” Ryn leans forward and touches my hand. “This is what you do, V. It’s going to work. You managed to find Jamon, remember?”

  Yeah, apparently I did. “Okay, so, I hold this sword, and then . . .”

  “Uh, search with your mind. Something like that. If this sword really does belong to the Star, you should see where she is.”

  “Okay.” Ryn removes the sword from its sheath. I wrap my fingers around the hilt, then jump as Arthur blasts a spindly bush nearby with a spurt of flame, turning the brittle branches to a burned crisp. He proceeds to uproot the blackened bush with one bite. He crunches, swallows, and licks his lips with a forked tongue.

  “That’s . . . weird,” I say.

  “Yeah, he doesn’t just eat meat. Anyway, the sword?”

  I turn back to the weapon in my hand. I hold it up and see tiny words engraved along the blade’s edge. “This is the prophecy you were telling me about,” I murmur. My eyes scan the words.

  Two halves in one have more power than a whole. The fae world will bow beneath his mark. Only the sword can stop him, and only one can wield the sword: the Star of the high land. She is hidden, but the finder will find her. She will break the whole in half. By the strike of the sword, and the death of innocence, evil will be laid to rest.

  “Well, I sure hope I’m the finder this prophecy is talking about.” I close my eyes, try to ignore the fact that Ryn is watching me, and let my mind relax. I slide my fingers across the cold metal ridges of the sword’s hilt and imagine someone else holding this weapon. Someone who can use it against Draven. My mind soars, and I feel like I’m flying. Faster than Arthur. Faster than the magic carpet. Fast enough to cover great distances in only seconds. Everything I see is a blur, until I finally slow down. Even then, I can’t really see anything clearly. I brush past hundreds of other minds, but none of them are the one I’m searching for.

  And then I stop. Somewhere far away. Somewhere near the ocean where a pink sun hangs above a horizon of water.

  I open my eyes and find Ryn leaning toward me. “It worked, didn’t it?”

  I nod. “It did, but not exactly. I got a sense of the general region.” I sit up and turn in the direction of the pull I can still feel. A soft but undeniable tug within me. “It’s that way, but I don’t know how far away.”

  “If you didn’t get an exact answer, then it must be quite far. That’s how it usually works for you. As you get closer, you’ll be able to determine her location with greater accuracy.”

  “Okay, so, that means we’ve got a long journey ahead of us.” I look over to where Arthur is munching on another toasted bush. “And as cool as it is to fly on a dragon, we can’t make him fly nearly as fast as the magic carpet.”

  “No, but I’m not that concerned about speed this time.” Ryn slides the sword back into its sheath and stands. “I have a different plan.”

  “Which is?”

  “The faerie paths.”

  I laugh as I stand. “Are you insane?”

  “Possibly. Sometimes. But not right now. We have a dragon, V.” He slips the sword strap over his head so that it lies diagonally across his chest. “We can open a doorway in the air and fly right through it and beyond. We don’t have to hang around on the other side. By the time Draven’s guards arrive, we’ll be long gone.”

  “Unless they’re also riding dragons now,” I point out, “in which case it wouldn’t take them long to catch up.”

  Ryn thinks about that for a moment. “That wouldn’t be cool, but I don’t think it’s going to happen. We’ve never seen them on dragons before.”

  “Okay. Well, if it happens, I’ll try not to say ‘I told you so.’”

  A smile turns Ryn’s mouth up into that expression that seems to do something odd to my insides. “You won’t try at all. You’d love to be able to say—oh, hang on.” He reaches into a pocket and pulls out his amber, which reminds me that I still haven’t sent a message to Jamon. “It’s from Oliver.” Ryn’s brow furrows as his eyes scan the words on the amber’s surface. Then he closes his eyes and breathes out a sigh. “There was no attack,” he says, looking at me. “They’ve searched every level and can’t find any intruders.”

  Relief floods my body. “So the explosion . . .”

  “They’re saying it came from Uri’s lab. It destroyed the whole laboratory, as well as the spare weapons room and part of the Training Center. No one was seriously injured, though.”

  I remember the clutter in Uri’s lab. Couple that with his scatterbrained nature, and it seems entirely possible that the explosion originated there. “Poor Uri. He must feel awful knowing he’s responsible.”

  “Yeah. Anyway, Oliver says we should just go on and find the Star. They’re all busy there fixing up the damage.” Ryn removes his stylus from an inside pocket of his jacket and flicks it across the amber’s screen. “There’s also a message from Em.” He laughs, then shakes his head and writes a quick reply. “She says the most ridiculous things.” He slips the amber and stylus back inside his jacket while something strangely resembling jealousy stirs in my stomach. I push away thoughts of Em and Ryn before they can take hold in my mind.

  After an odd look in my direction, Ryn says, “Okay, you open a doorway, and I’ll get Arthur over here. Once we’re inside, you’re directing the way.”

  I dig inside my bag and find the stylus I haven’t used in a while. I half expect Draven’s guards to show up the moment I start writing the words on the ground, but no one appears. I drag a large doorway open like I did when I helped the reptiscillas move their belongings.

  “Okay, jump on,” Ryn says. He reaches down for my hand and swings me up as Arthur lumbers to the edge of the dark hole. He spreads his wings, takes a step forward, and dives down into the darkness. I expect air to rush past us, but the faerie paths don’t do things like that. We could be speeding faster than light, or we could be suspended in the blackness of nothing. “You’re directing us, V,” Ryn reminds me.

  I hold the image of the ocean and the pink sun in my mind, feeling that tug within me that wants to pull in a certain direction. Warm light brushes my closed eyelids. I open them to find us flying above an ocean reflecting the pink-orange sky. The sun is a little lower now than when I saw it in my head. I guess we’ve left a rising sun for a setting one.

  “Which way?” Ryn asks.

  “Uh, that way.” I point a little to the right.

  Ryn twists around and looks behind us. “You mean away from shore?”

  I turn and see a strip of land behind us. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  Arthur swoops low and drags his back feet through the water, spraying us with foam. I laugh and wipe the wetness from my face. The water is cold, but not as icy as the air we just left behind.

  “Do you have any idea what we’re heading
toward?” Ryn asks.

  “No, but I’m hoping it’ll become clear soon.”

  “Well, if not, you’ll need to use the sword to try and find her again.”

  “Yeah, okay.” I look over my shoulder to watch the land disappearing behind us. It definitely seems further away now, but what catches my attention are the two small shapes that rise into the air and start to grow bigger. I frown, trying to figure out what I’m looking at. After several more moments, my eyes make out wings attached to the two shapes.

  Wings. Which means flying creatures. Coming toward us.

  “Uh, Ryn? I think we have company.”

  “Crap.” Ryn urges Arthur forward, but the flying creatures are gaining on us.

  “Would now be a good time to say ‘I told you so’?” I ask. Ryn was so certain Draven’s guards wouldn’t show up on dragons, and yet here they are. Flying toward us.

  “Probably not. How about later?” Ryn twists around to get another look at our pursuers. “Although . . . I’m not entirely sure those are dragons.”

  Arthur roars and swerves to the right as sparks strike his left wing. I clutch Ryn’s waist to keep from being thrown off while Ryn wraps an arm around Arthur’s neck. Moments later, a spear glances off Arthur’s thick hide. “They’re not guardians,” Ryn says, watching the ordinary spear plunge into the ocean. Arthur twists his long neck around and sends a burst of flames behind us. He flaps his wings fiercely and spins in the air to face his attackers.

  “Flip, those are manticores,” Ryn says.

  Now that they’re only a dragon’s length away from us, I can see the lion bodies, human faces, and scorpion tales of our pursuers’ steeds. The riders look like faeries, and the sparks of magic they’re sending our way certainly suggest they’re faeries, but their shaved, tattoo-covered heads aren’t something I remember seeing before.

  Arthur sends another blaze of flames curling and licking through the air. The manticores scream in fury, baring their several rows of teeth. Their riders throw spears and knives and sparks that turn into sharp pieces of bone. We deflect everything with shields, then strike back with our own magic.

  The air is soon filled with curses, smoke, and bursts of light as the three creatures whirl around each other. Arthur is much larger than the manticores, but they’re faster and more agile. They claw at his sides and strike with their stingers. I slash at them with a sword whenever they come close enough, and Ryn tries to dismount the riders with a few snaps of his whip. Nothing seems to do any good, though. Even arrows are useless with so much movement going on.

  I’m starting to tire—both from magic use and the effort of staying on Arthur’s back—when a ball of white flame comes speeding toward us. I throw my hand out and stop it with a shield, but it bounces off at a weird angle and strikes Arthur’s neck. He rears up and lets out a roaring shriek, throwing Ryn and me backward in the process. The flimsy strap around my waist snaps.

  I’m falling.

  Falling, falling, falli—splash. The slap of the water stings my body as I plunge into an ocean of bubbles. I float, weightless. Then I pull at the water with long strokes, reaching for the surface. The bag on my back isn’t heavy, but I still feel like it’s dragging me down. Finally, my head breaks through. I suck in air as I tread water, looking around for Ryn.

  “V!” I hear the shout behind me and swing around. Ryn swims toward me, the sword sliding back and forth across his shoulders. “You okay?” he asks, pushing wet hair out of his eyes.

  “Yeah. You?”

  He nods and looks up. I follow his gaze and watch Arthur flying away. One of the manticore riders sends a few sparks after him. The other rider throws something mesh-like through the air to his partner, but keeps hold of one end. It hangs in the air between them. The moment they snap it tight and dive toward us, I realize what it is.

  A net.

  “Get down!” I shout. I take a great gulp of air and drop beneath the rolling waves. But it’s too late. The net is weighted and sinks easily through the water and over us. I try to swim down and out the bottom, but the weighted ends move toward each like magnets and stick together, leaving us trapped inside. I stick my fingers through the lattice and get a good grip on the net, meaning to tear the thing apart with as much magical strength as I can muster. But a burning starts in my palms the moment the mesh comes into contact with my skin.

  Burning, burning, burning—I snatch my hands away, no longer able to stand the pain. I turn in the water and see Ryn about to do the same thing. My ‘no’ comes out as a distorted rush of bubbles. Before he can reach the edge of the net, it rushes toward us, tugging us up and out of the water in a dripping heap. The net touches my neck, my face, the back of my right hand. I jerk away from the burning, managing to get into a position where only my clothes and boots touch the enchanted mesh.

  I find a snarling manticore and its tattooed rider hovering in the air in front of me. The other one is to the side, facing Ryn. The net floats between them, held up by some invisible force they’re no doubt controlling.

  My back is pressed against Ryn’s, so I hear rather than see the sparks he shoots at the rider. A second later, pain zings across my shoulder as the sparks tear through the edge of my jacket and dissipate in front of me. I recoil as Ryn says, “Flip, what the—”

  “You shouldn’t do that,” the rider facing Ryn says. “The net will contain any magic or weapons you try to throw at us.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ryn mutters to me. “I didn’t know it would—”

  “Hey, you’re not marked!” I blurt out as I catch a glimpse of the rider’s right palm.

  “No.” His lips twist into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “We’re not. Lucky, aren’t we?”

  His manticore swipes a claw at the net, causing it to lurch to the side. I fall against the net. My skin burns. Ear, chin, hands. I push away from the net with my elbow. “Wait, stop! We’re not marked either.”

  The rider swings his manticore around so that his own sneering face is now inches from mine. “That’s the point, sweetheart.” He looks across at his partner and gives him a small nod. I twist to see the other rider. He raises both hands and—

  *

  My thoughts are slow and heavy. I struggle to get them turning; it’s like swimming through thick syrup. A voice keeps saying my name, but I can’t muster enough strength to break through the syrupy layer and answer him.

  So I wait.

  As my mind dips in and out of darkness, the heaviness slowly dissipates, until finally, finally, I can force my eyelids apart. The first thing I notice is the pain. The heaviness masked it, but now I’m fully aware of the burning on my face, hands, and lower back. I blink a few times, but things seem to be taking a while to come into focus.

  “Stunner spell,” I mumble.

  “Yeah,” Ryn says, his voice sounding close. “Always love waking up feeling like I’ve been drugged.”

  I realize I’m lying on my side. I push myself up carefully, trying to use the heel of my hand instead of my palm. I’m on a hard, cold surface inside what looks like a dingy prison cell. Metal bars block off one side of the room, and dim light comes from a passageway on the other side of those bars. If I listen carefully, I can hear the quiet, continual slosh of water against a shore. I guess we’re not far from the ocean.

  “You okay?” Ryn asks.

  Seems like kind of a dumb question. “Aside from being burned, stunned, and locked up? Sure. I’m just peachy.” I blink again and see a crisscross pattern of red marks on one side of his face. “Ooh, ouch. Is that what my face looks like?”

  “Yeah, and your back. Your jacket must have gotten pulled up after we were stunned.”

  I twist around and lift the back of my jacket, but I can’t see much. I shake my head and try to ignore the hot pain. “I don’t get it. If these guys aren’t marked, and we’re not marked, shouldn’t we be on the same side?”

  “I don’t know. It seemed like the reason they caught us was because we’re not m
arked.”

  “I wonder if—Wait, where’s the sword?” I suddenly remember we had more with us when we fell from the sky.

  “Where do you think?” Ryn asks, gesturing vaguely toward the bars. “It’s not like I dropped it in the ocean, so they must have it.”

  “Crap. We have to get it back, Ryn.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Thanks, V. Tell me something I don’t already know.”

  “Hey, why are getting mad at me? It’s not my fault we ended up in this situation. In fact, I think it was you who suggested we go through the—”

  “Yeah, it was,” he interrupts, pushing himself up off the floor and walking to the bars. He presses his forehead against them. “It’s not you I’m mad at,” he says quietly.

  So he’s mad at himself. I stand up, noticing for the first time that my clothes are still a little damp. I stand next to him and look out at the passage. It’s as bare as the cell we’re locked in. “I guess we could say it’s your fault, but it’s not like that’s going to help, is it? So instead I’ll say this: We will get out of here because we’re guardians and we kick ass, and no manticore-riding, bald guys are going to stand a chance against us.”

  Ryn looks down at me with a smile. “There’s that overconfidence I’ve missed so much.” His eyes slide down my face to my shoulder, and his smile fades. “I’m sorry about the sparks that hit you. I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Of course you didn’t. Besides, it barely grazed my skin. It’s probably already healed.” I slide my fingers beneath the layers of my clothing and feel my shoulder. “Yup. Perfectly healed. Nothing to worry about.”

  His smile is small. “That’s good.” He turns back to the bars. “I’m guessing this cell keeps magic contained the same way the net did.”