Darklands (44 page)

Kane grunted, pushing the boat forward. I could see the hummock where we’d left the horses. Only one stood there now. The
other must have broken away in fear when the Destroyer passed by.

“It was right around here,” Kane said, stopping the boat. He used the pole to probe the swamp.

Something floated beside the boat—a white feather. I plucked it from the water. It was spattered with drops and smears of rainbow colors—magical blood. More blood pooled on the water’s surface, shimmering like an oil slick.

I showed the feather to Kane. “It’s dead, Kane. The falcon is dead. Whoever shot it took the carcass away. He’s probably roasting it right now.”

Kane took the feather. He scanned our surroundings as though looking for smoke from a cooking fire.

“I was joking about roasting it.”

“There’s nothing to joke about, Vicky. This is a disaster. Without the falcon—” He sighed and handed the feather back to me. “Maybe the Night Hag will accept this as a token of your effort.”

“I wouldn’t count on that.” I tucked the feather inside my tunic, anyway.

“Neither would I. But it’s worth a try. And it’s not our only bargaining chip.”

“What are you talking about?”

He shook his head and pushed off with the pole. He steered the boat to the hummock and our remaining horse. “I’m sure I tied both sets of reins the same way,” he said, undoing the knots.

“It doesn’t matter.” It didn’t. The horse had probably gone home. Or else the Destroyer had blasted it into ashes that had blown away.
There was nothing I could do about it. I was tired of struggling to fix things when I couldn’t change them.

Kane climbed up onto the horse; I mounted behind him. I put my arms around him and leaned my cheek against his muscled back.
Ah.
For a moment I let myself enjoy his strength, his solidity. Home, I realized. His body felt like home.

But the white falcon was dead. Home? For me, the Darklands was home now. I loosened my grip on Kane and sat back. And then we were in the air, flying toward Arawn’s palace.

THIS TIME, WE DIDN’T MEET ARAWN IN HIS SITTING ROOM. We were escorted to a small, bare room off the main corridor. There was a table against one wall, but no chairs. The fireplace was cold and swept clean.

We didn’t have to wait long. The door opened and Arawn strode in. “I’m very busy,” he said, holding out his hand. His features were like granite. “Give me the remains of my sword.”

“You know about that?” I handed him the parcel. He laid it on the table and opened it. Then he swept the whole thing onto the floor. I winced as pieces of Darkblaze skittered across the stone tiles.

“I know everything that happened. My sentries reported to me before you arrived here.”

“You sent men after us?” My voice rose in anger. “Instead of spying, they could have helped us.”

He whirled around, his face a picture of fury. “And ended up like Edern ap Nudd, one of my oldest and most trusted Keepers?”

Kane stepped between us. “If your men watched us,” he said, using his reasonable negotiator’s voice, “they know Vicky achieved her purpose. The Destroyer is gone from the Darklands.”

“Yes.” Arawn took a step back. “That is why I upheld my side of the bargain. It’s already done. I summoned the Night Hag and gave her my hunting horn on your behalf. I also gave her Rhudda’s magic arrow.” An unpleasant smile touched his lips. “She was not pleased.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“The arrow, as you recall, was broken. But she never said it had to be whole. She had no choice but to accept it. As for my hunting horn, when I learned of your deal, I acquired a new one. She did not specify which horn she wanted, so she could not refuse the one I offered. It was mine, it was a hunting horn, and it fulfilled the deal.” He shook his head. “Mallt-y-Nos was very sloppy in her bargaining with you. Obviously, she thought you’d fail.”

I touched the white feather inside my tunic. I
had
failed. Not that it mattered now.

“She had her amusement,” Arawn continued. “She drove you into the Darklands and then left you here to become my problem.” His face darkened into another scowl. “And look at the trouble you’ve caused me. Rhudda is an ass, but he’s also my vassal. You humiliated him, and in doing so you undermined
my authority. He kept order in a section of my realm that is now in disarray.” He held up a hand and counted my sins on his fingers. “You killed my Magic Keeper and defiled the spring he guarded. Edern is dead because he tried to help you. You shattered the sword that has protected this realm for more than a thousand years.” He kicked the hilt like it was a piece of trash. It spun across the room. “Inside your very body, you brought a demon here.”

“Just a small one.” Butterfly hadn’t hurt anything. Well, except when it took a chunk out of Rhudda’s nose—and the giant deserved that. The Eidolon had spent most of our trip through the Darklands lodged deep in my gut.

“That’s not what I meant. Bringing in a guilt-demon is a serious offense in itself, but you did something worse. You came here marked by the Destroyer. My wizards tell me that it was
your
presence in the cauldron of transformation that resurrected Difethwr. If you and your damn demon mark hadn’t gone into the cauldron, a far weaker demon would have emerged. In a very real sense, I blame you for the destruction of my lands.”

Arawn had run out of counting fingers. He made a fist and pounded the table.

“Everything you say is true.” The enormity of all those screw-ups made me want to look at the floor. But I met Arawn’s gaze and held it. “But it’s also true that I never acted with malice. I killed the Magic Keeper in self-defense. I even tried to help him after he fell. I defended you from demons in Resurrection Square. And I did send Pryce and the Destroyer—and even that guilt-demon—back to Uffern.” I took a deep breath. “So in light of my service, I have one more favor to ask.”

“A favor?” Arawn’s expression suggested “favor” was the dirtiest word he’d ever heard. “And what is this
favor
?”

“I want to take Edern’s place at the border.”

“Vicky, no!” Kane moved forward like he could block the words I’d spoken.

I stepped around him. “I’m an experienced demon fighter. I can—”

“A Border Keeper? When your demon mark will constantly call the Destroyer back to this realm? No!” Arawn pounded the table again, making it shake. “I told you—I want you gone!” He pointed at me. “You are banished from my realm. If you are still in the Darklands by this time tomorrow, you will be executed.
Your body—its physical and magical manifestations alike—will be burned and the ashes thrown into Uffern, so I can rest assured that no trace of that Hellion remains here.”

Banished.
My head was spinning with Arawn’s accusations and pronouncements, but that one word came through. Banished. And on penalty of death. What the hell was I going to do now?

“Mallt-y-Nos won’t let me leave,” I said. “The white falcon she wanted, the one that nested in Hellsmoor…it’s dead.” I pulled the white feather from my tunic.

Arawn stared at it. “More trouble you’ve caused me.”

“If you’d order the Night Hag to let her leave—” Kane began.

“She
can
leave! She can leap off a cliff into Uffern for all I care.” He waved the suggestion away and narrowed his eyes at me. “I told you, I will not interfere in your bargain. I have nothing to do with deals made beyond my borders. You have one day. Then your life is forfeit.”

“Vicky.” Kane put his arm around me and pulled me close against him. “I came here to bring you home. That’s what I intend to do. Let’s go. I’ll talk to the Night Hag.”

“You?” Arawn snorted. “Do you truly believe you have anything left to bargain with? Mallt-y-Nos owns you.”

Dread made me go cold. “Kane, what did you offer her?”

“You don’t know? Oh, that’s rich. He pledged—” A far-off note sounded. Arawn looked sharply toward the door. So did Kane. A low, nasty laugh came from Arawn’s throat. “Do you hear that, hound? Your mistress calls you.”

Oh, no.
The dread turned my heart to ice. The Night Hag—what names did the werewolves have for her? Huntress. Mistress of Hounds.

That’s what Arawn called him—hound.

The note sounded again. “It’s not the horn she wanted, but it’s clear enough, is it not? Your time here is finished—go!”

Kane shuddered. He bent over as though someone had punched him, hard, in the stomach.

“It’s only for a year and a day, Vicky. For you, I would have—” His words turned into a strangled groan as he began to change. Fire sizzled over him. A memory of that pain seared through me. His skin blistered and bubbled. Smoke rose, and the skin split and shredded to accommodate a huge body covered in black fur. His arms grew and his back twisted, forcing him onto all fours. A howl of anguish escaped his throat. Fangs
sprouted and grew to terrifying size as his nose and chin stretched into a muzzle. The fire consumed his eyes, then glowed from the sockets. More flames shot from his nostrils. The pain of that inner burning—I reached out to touch him and he nearly snapped my hand off. The hellhound backed away, growling, acid dripping from his fangs.

In the distance, a long, clear note rang out.

Kane’s head snapped around, tracking the sound. Another blast, and he bounded toward the door. He leapt into the air and passed through the solid door. Drops of acid sizzled on the stone floor after he’d gone.

I stared at the door. “A year and a day.”

“Yes.” Arawn sounded unaffected by the horrifying change we’d witnessed. “He agreed to serve the Night Hag as her hellhound for that length of time. She told me all about it. Tonight, and each night of the next thirteen full moons, he will run with her pack.”

Kane couldn’t have known, couldn’t have understood, what he was getting into. It was the worst bargain he could make. That excruciating pain, the humiliation of being driven by the Night Hag. The running and running until his paws bled. For thirteen full moons, each of them three nights long. Including tonight, that made forty times he’d endure such agony.

He thought he was doing it for me. God, after tonight he’d despise me for the rest of his life.

“My men will escort you to the place where you entered my realm,” Arawn said. “They will remain with you until you have managed to leave or, alternatively, until they have carried out your execution.”

He pulled a bell cord. Immediately the door opened and four guards, dressed in green, marched in. All were heavily armed with swords and knives, with bows and arrows. One of them, a tall man with a coal-black mustache, looked familiar. Except the last time I’d seen him, he was wearing red.

“That’s the Magic Keeper!” I peered at the man’s face. He looked back at me without emotion. Yes, it was him—no doubt. The only difference was his eyes. The irises were rainbow-colored, like the spring he’d guarded. I turned back to Arawn. “You said I killed him.”

“You did. Fortunately for him, the magic of the spring restored his life.”

I’d poured that magic into his wounds. “So—”

“The fact that his life was restored is immaterial. He died, and you were the cause of his death.”

But I wasn’t thinking about the legal technicalities. I was thinking that the magic had cured him. If it did that for the Keeper, it could have cured Dad, as well.

I had twenty-four hours, time enough to find Dad. After we got to the border, I’d slip away from the guards and find Dad’s hideout in the woods. He must have gone back to his cave. He’d hidden there from the Soul Keepers for a long time. Together, we’d elude Arawn’s enforcers and live in the woods.

I moved toward the door, eager to get going.

“Victory,” said Arawn, his voice softer, “I know you think me a tyrant, but I am a reasonable man. Despite the trouble you’ve caused, I bear you no personal grudge. I am merely trying to protect my people.”

I wasn’t so sure I believed that.
Sorry about the execution—it’s nothing personal.
Uh-huh.

“Since demons attacked the realm, shades have poured into Resurrection Square to be restored or reborn. My Keepers can barely handle the flow. Still, I requested to be informed if a certain name appeared in
The Register of the Cauldrons
.” He paused, watching my face. “That name, Evan Vaughn, was written into the book an hour ago. Your father has made his return.”

The few hopes I’d managed to scrape up for the future crashed to the floor.

But wait—maybe he was still here. Maybe he’d been regenerated.

“Which cauldron did he pass through?”

“The book doesn’t record that information. However, I spoke with the Cauldron Keeper who helped your father with his return. She knew him from his days at court.”

“What did she say?”

“Resurrection Square is very busy right now, you understand. The cauldrons are working at full capacity. Shades who have been hurt in demon attacks are lined up along each set of steps and across the square. The Keepers have had trouble maintaining order, so many of our wounded are desperate for help. But because she knew your father, this Keeper was curious about his return. She’s quite certain that his bridge stretched to the cauldron of rebirth.”

Rebirth. The fate Dad had wanted to avoid. What was left of my heart cracked in two. Yet there was consolation in knowing his spirit had survived. Somewhere, a proud mother and father were fussing over a newborn animated by the spirit of my father. I hoped they’d take good care of him.

But he was lost to me.

And losing him a second time hurt every bit as much as the first.

NONE OF THE GUARDS SPOKE TO ME DURING THE HOUR IT took Arawn’s flying horses to reach the border. Not a good idea to get too chummy with someone when tomorrow’s to-do list includes killing her, burning her body, and scattering the ashes in Hell.

The Night Hag was already waiting for us at our destination. As we dismounted, she came out of the woods in her middle-aged aspect. As she greeted me, her skin sagged and wrinkled into old age.

She snapped her fingers, and her pack of hellhounds ran to her side. They sniffed the air and snarled, baring their teeth at me and my escorts. All were huge and fierce-looking. Was Kane among them? He must be, but I couldn’t tell which one was him. They were all the same—angry and vicious and, I knew, in constant, terrible pain. Mallt-y-Nos pointed at the ground and shouted a command. The hounds crouched, quivering and growling, ready to spring up and attack.