Darklands (27 page)

In my imagination, the hag wheeled her horse around. She whistled to her hellhounds. Shrieking a bloodcurdling hunting cry, she raced toward me.

“Come!” I shouted, shrieking too, raising the volume to blot out the horrible sound of the hag’s approach. “I command thee!”

Hounds bayed and howled in the distance. The sound grew nearer. The ground shook as thundering hooves pounded closer, closer. I clamped my hands over my ears and kept shouting. I wasn’t saying anything now; I was just making noise. Anything to fight the terror of her approach.

An explosion jolted the cabin as the wall collapsed. I staggered back a step, almost falling, covering my face with both arms. A tingle in my shoulder told me I’d bumped into my protective magical barrier, and I jerked forward. I had to stay inside the sphere.

I dropped my arms to see what I’d called.

I stared into the fiery, red eyes of a massive steed. Flames shot from its nostrils, but they broke to the left and right before they reached me. Hounds leapt forward, jaws snapping, but they couldn’t get to me. My protection held.

“Quiet!” shouted a woman’s voice. The hounds fell back, milling around the cabin. The wall they’d burst through remained intact. The half-dozen hounds that crowded the place didn’t look like any dogs I’d ever seen. Each was the size of a small horse.
Their eyes glowed red and orange, lit by inner fire. Saliva dripped from their fangs; it sizzled when it hit the floor.

The horse turned sideways, and Mallt-y-Nos came into view. I blinked.
This
was the Night Hag? The woman astride the horse was young and beautiful, with blue-green eyes and golden blonde hair that flowed, shining, to her waist. She looked nothing like the nightmare hag that had terrorized my childhood imagination. “Why have you summoned me?” she demanded, regarding me imperiously from her demonic steed.

Before I could answer, her face changed. Wrinkles formed around her eyes, on her forehead, between her nose and mouth. Her blonde hair faded to gray, then bleached white. Her skin went from creamy to blotchy red to jaundiced. I gaped, unable to look away, as the beautiful young woman sagged and faded into an ancient crone. Finally, the hair thinned to a few wiry strands. The skin shriveled and peeled away, baring the skull beneath. Flames consumed the eyes, leaving only a red glow.

I looked into the face of death.

The cycle began again. In the course of a few minutes, Mallt-y-Nos flowed from youth to middle age to decrepitude and death. And back again. And then again. I stared, fascinated, almost forgetting the terror of her presence.

In her death’s-head form, she pointed a skeletal finger at me. “Why did you call me?” she asked again, her voice impatient. Youthful flesh covered her skull. Her cheeks turned pink; her eyes sparkled. Thick, shining hair cascaded down her back. “Do not suppose, mortal, that you can command me. I came because I was curious. Mortals run from me; they do not request my presence.”

That I could believe. Even in her youthful form, she was terrifying.

“I called you to ask you a favor.”

Mallt-y-Nos laughed. Wrinkles creased her face as her lips stretched back to reveal the rotted and missing teeth of old age. “Mallt-y-Nos does no favors. All who deal with me must pay a price.” Her white hair dropped away in clumps. “Only one thing do I want from mortals, and for that I never have to ask. All mortals must yield to me, like it or no. I live for the hunt, and one day I will chase your soul into the Darklands. You’ll have many favors to beg of me then.” Her ancient voice cackled with mockery. “‘Oh, spare me, spare me, Mallt-y-Nos! I’ll give you
anything! Just don’t drive me into that horrible dark place.’ Such laments are sweet music to my ears. Nothing thrills a hunter’s heart like bringing the quarry to bay.” Her smile beamed from the face of a young woman. “But it is not yet your time, Victory Vaughn. So why have you called me?”

“I seek admission to the Darklands.” A hound growled and lunged at me. Its snout bounced off the invisible barrier.

“Down!” Mallt-y-Nos shouted, and the creature dropped to its belly. Her scowl deepened the lines that now etched her face. “Did you not hear what I said? It is not your time.”

“I seek temporary admission. Three days. There’s a man…he used to be a demi-demon, but his shadow demon was destroyed. He’s gone into the Darklands to try to revive his demon half. I need to stop him.”

The crone snarled. “What do I care what happens in Lord Arawn’s realm—or in this one? I care only for the hunt. One day, I will drive you before me. It is not yet your time, but I can wait. Hunters are patient.” Again, her features receded into the ghastly grimace of a skull. I shivered at the image of what awaited me. Of what awaits every living creature.

I shook off the feeling. “I know there are doorways into the Darklands. How do I enter?”

“To cross the border, you must pay the price.”

“And the price is a person’s life. I get that. But there are stories of people who went to the Darklands and returned. What price did they pay?”

“Those mortals made a deal with Lord Arawn. But some betrayed him, and he closed the border to living mortals.” Her expression turned crafty. “Still,” she muttered to herself, “I can make deals, too.” Her face, middle-aged at the moment, took on the stern aspect of a strict teacher. “I can escort you into the Darklands, mortal. But to return to your world, you must bring me three items.”

“What are they?”

Her crone’s face creased into a grin. “Rhudda’s magic arrow; the white falcon of Hellsmoor; and the hunting horn of Lord Arawn himself. Those are things I can use.” She raised an aged finger. “But nothing else. The Darklands are shrouded to the living and must remain so.”

Mallt-y-Nos was offering me a deal—and bargaining with spirits is a bad idea. I watched as she nodded, cackling to herself, her
face altering with each motion of her head. Make that a
very
bad idea. I’d be alone in a strange land, lost, racing against time and who knows what obstacles to stop Pryce. And now the hag wanted to send me on what I suspected would be an impossible scavenger hunt. She was too quick to make her offer, too pleased with herself. She knew she was asking for more than I could deliver.

Except for seven, none returned.

“Your price is too high,” I said. “I will bring you one item. Name the one you want.”

Her death’s-head eyes flared into flame. Anger shot from her like a lightning bolt, shuddering my protective sphere. I cringed. “Three!” she shrieked. “Three or we have no deal.”

“And if I fail?”

The young woman tossed her head. “None may cross the border without paying the price.” She looked down at me like she’d look at a bug crawling on her shoe. “What is it to me which side you’re on?”

Never make a bargain with an otherworldly spirit. I knew that. But the vision of my world in flames, the fear in Mab’s eyes—I couldn’t stay locked in this cottage and do nothing. I had no choice.

As though they were a single creature, the hellhounds froze. Their heads whipped to the right, nostrils quivering. They lifted their muzzles and howled. The sound, full of rage and hunger, was an echo from a nightmare.

The hag turned her head in the same direction, then looked back at me with the face of a scowling old woman. “Hurry up!” she snapped. “I can’t wait all night. Do you agree to my price?”

“I agree.” The moment I spoke the words, the air around me shimmered. My sphere of protection imploded, falling around me—on my face, my shoulders, my arms—like a million tiny shards of glass.

The flesh fell away from Mallt-y-Nos’s skull as she pointed at me. “Change, shapeshifter,” she croaked. A torrent of energy blasted out. It hit me square in the chest and exploded inside me, ripping off my limbs. No, not ripping. Contracting, twisting, changing. Pain—hot, fiery pain—consumed me.

What have you done to me?
I tried to scream, but my mouth wouldn’t issue the words. My tongue was too long, my teeth too sharp. A howl tore itself from my throat, joining the hellhound chorus. It burned. Every part of me burned.

Oh, God, I’m on fire!
It was my last human thought before I shifted.

“RUN!” COMMANDS MISTRESS. HER WILL CUTS ME, A FIERY whip. Pain slices legs, and I move. Wall ahead. I stop, confused. “Run!” Mistress wills it. More pain, worse, pushes me. Other hounds bite. Sharp, sizzling hurt. I snap and snarl back. Too many fangs. They tear me. I run. The wall gives way.

Outside. Cold, but the fire inside me still burns, hurts. Smells: forest, mud, wolf. Many wolves. Ground soft and wet under paws.

“Up!” Mistress’s command hurts. The word like fangs in my skull. Must obey, so up I go. No more ground, running in sky. Smells of earth and wolf fade. Smells here: damp, hellhound, horse, fire, mistress. Below, a howl. Wolf. Then no sounds but panting, growls.

“Faster!” Hurts. I yelp, go faster. I swerve, hit another hound. His fangs bite. I rear up. Aim for throat. But “Faster!” comes again and burning cramps torment me. Pain. I run.

Fire inside never stops.
Pain, pain, pain.
I feel its beat, run to it.
Pain, pain, pain.

We run far, fast. Mistress allows no rest.

Pain, pain, pain.

Hunger rumbles in belly. Where is prey?

Pain, pain, pain.

“Down!” Command hurts. Mistress wills, I obey. Back on earth. Sniff all around. Mud smell, wet rock. Pine trees. Water. Paws squish in cold mud. A strong smell—dead demon. Harpies died here.

“You!” Fiery knives tear through me. Pain howls from my throat. Mistress wants something. Anything, anything—just make this strong hurt stop. I look at Mistress. She points. “Run!”

I run. Another wall ahead. Rock. Hurt drives me toward it. A light in the wall. Red, like fire. Misty, like smoke. Fire hurts. I don’t want to run there.

“Run!”
Mistress commands. Hounds howl. So much pain. I run where Mistress tells me. I leap into the fire-red wall. Rock melts around me.

Dark.

Empty.

Falling.

DARK.

It was dark and I was falling.

I tumbled down a steep slope, somersaulting and rolling and sliding. The baying of the hellhounds assailed my ears from all sides. Sharp stones cut me; smells of grass and dirt and something sharp, electric, rose around me. I scrabbled to grab hold of something, anything, to stop my descent. All I got were fistfuls of torn-up grass.

I came to a stop, sprawled on my face in the mud. That’s when I realized something had changed. That raging internal fire—it was gone. I ached all over, but the horrible, burning pain that had driven me was gone. I flexed my fingers; I had hands, not paws. Crossing the border had shifted me back to my human form.

Thank God. Being a hellhound had shown me more flavors of pain than I ever knew existed. I didn’t know whether Mallt-y-Nos had forced me to shift because it was the only way to get me out of that cabin and across the border, or whether she was merely a sadistic bitch. But I knew which answer I’d bet on.

Gingerly, I sat up. I tried to open my eyes, then realized they were already open. I couldn’t see. Darkness, as thick and solid
as black velvet enwrapped me. Panic seized me—that damn Night Hag had blinded me!—until I thought about where I was. The Darklands. Somehow, I hadn’t expected them to be
this
dark. A sick feeling of failure lumped in my stomach. I’d lost before I began. I’d never find Pryce or keep my bargain with Mallt-y-Nos if I couldn’t see.

A breeze touched my cheek, accompanied by a soft sigh from above. The way the air moved, it felt like something was passing by. A bird gliding close overhead, maybe. But the sigh sounded human. And sad.

“Hello?” I called. “Is anyone there?”

No answer. Whatever it was swept past. But as I listened, more sounds reached my ears: sighs, muted sobs, indistinct murmurings. A fragment of a hymn. All floated down from somewhere above me. As best as I could tell in the disorienting darkness, the sounds were moving. And they all seemed to be moving in the same direction.

Soft, steady crying drifted down from somewhere nearby.

“Are you all right?”

There was no pause in the sobbing, nothing to indicate that whoever was crying had heard me. I tracked the sound. In the distance was a star, a pinpoint of light in the darkness. That tiny, glimmering spot made joy spring up inside me. There was light here.

Overhead, the sobbing flowed toward the light. I stood and went toward it, too.

It was hard going. Unlike the voices wafting over my head, I was earthbound. I tried leaping into the air, reaching to catch a current or grab hold of one of the passing beings, but each time I fell back to the ground, my hands empty. I tried willing myself to fly, and that worked exactly as well as it would back in the human world. So I walked. I was in some sort of forest. There were rocks and trees—how could trees grow in this dark place?—and briars that tore at my arms. I proceeded slowly, feeling in front of me to avoid colliding with boulders and tree trunks, trying to keep my eye on the light. Always I heard sighs and whispers above, moving in the same direction.

The sixth or seventh time I tripped over an invisible root, I tried shifting into a bird so I could fly toward the light. I pictured myself sprouting feathers, imagined air under my wings as I
soared toward the light. But nothing happened. The shift wouldn’t take hold. Earthbound, I kept stumbling forward.

I must have made better progress than I thought, because the light rapidly grew larger. In ten minutes, it was the size of a doorway. I stood directly under it, still in absolute darkness. Its light didn’t reach down here. But above, transparent shapes glowed briefly as they crossed into the light and disappeared. They were people. People flying through the darkness and going into the light. As each one passed through, a note of music sounded. Beautiful. I wanted to go through that doorway, glide into the warm light, become part of that melody. I had to get up there.

All those trees I’d collided with—maybe one of them could finally serve a purpose. If I could climb one, I might get high enough to jump for the bright doorway, or at least peer through it. The light called to me. The more I looked at the doorway, at that lovely, golden, singing light in so much darkness, the more I wanted to go through it.