Shadowlands (62 page)

A warm piece of metal was shoved into her hand, its handle feeling strangely comfortable to her grip.

“Point this end,” one of them said. “Pull this part.”

The thing went off with a most satisfying noise, and Moon had the joy of seeing a Hound go down with part of his head missing.

The sound, the horrible teeth-shaking sound pushed Nik to his knees, but before he could even think about his danger, Alejandro yanked him to his feet, and thrust something cold and metallic into his hands. About to protest that he hadn’t used a sword or dagger for years, Nik was relieved to find he was holding a handgun.

The first thing he did was laugh out loud. “You know it’s illegal to have one of these?” he said, but all the Rider did was smile wider.
Nik had never shot this type of handgun before, but like everyone who owned a TV, he’d seen it done thousands of times. He braced his right wrist with his left hand, took aim and fired. Luckily—or unluckily—some of the Hunt were presenting fairly large targets. Even those not in Rider shape were more-or-less Rider—that is to say human—sized.
Easier to get a bead on than a dog
.

“It’s working,” Nik called over his shoulder as a lucky shot spun a Hound right around, crashing him into another and knocking them both down.

“Does not kill them,” Alejandro yelled back.

Right
. Nik remembered now. Torso shots might knock them down, but they wouldn’t stay down.

Alejandro seemed to be everywhere at once, and yet somehow never in Nik’s line of fire. The
gra’if
blade, blindingly bright, flashed like a bolt of lightning.

Something grabbed him by the ankle and while Nik tried to twist to get the gun aimed at it, he was pulled down before he could safely take a shot. Only the fact that the thing wasted time getting close enough to bite him saved him from having his
dra’aj
drained on the spot. Nik was still trying to get the gun positioned so he wouldn’t shoot his own foot off when a chunk of concrete the size of a soccer ball glanced off the Hound’s head, knocking it off balance and loosening its grip. Now that he was aware of it, Nik heard other guns firing, and the blasts of shotguns, and grinned again as more concrete missiles banged down into the group of Hounds around them.

All at once, a flash of bright silver sliced through the limb that was still wrapped around Nik’s ankle. The thing howled, blood fountaining from its cut wrist.
Not a light saber
, Nik thought, trying not to giggle as he turned to fire point-blank at something else that was getting too close.

This isn’t a movie
, was the next thought he had. Alejandro’s sword wasn’t a light saber, and his gun was going to run out of bullets. If someone didn’t come to help them soon, he and Alejandro were goners.

In a moment Moon was able to stand back with those around her and take stock.

Below them, and to the left, she could see two figures fighting,
back to back. The
gra’if
blade one held was so bright, and moved so quickly, that even her Rider eyes had difficulty following it. The other figure had a weapon like the one she held herself. It did not stop the Hounds around them, Moon saw, but only slowed them. If something was not done, and soon, these two would be overwhelmed.

“Wolf?” she asked.

“Lady, no idea. Gone, you know?” The one who answered clapped her hands sharply, and Moon understood this was the sound of Movement. That gave her an idea.

“I will go for help,” she said. “Be steadfast.”

The cuts and scratches on Alejandro’s arms were too numerous to number. More serious by far was the slice along his left calf, and the puncture, low in his belly, close to his right hip, that had missed the abdominal artery only by virtue of his quick reflexes and the long training he had had in the bullring. And it was that training, along with all his years in arms, that allowed Alejandro to ignore the pain—and the knowledge that while the injury would not kill him quickly, a slow death was the best he could hope for if help did not come soon.

Out of nowhere a rock struck the flank of the twisted Chimera that menaced him, throwing it off its stride, and allowing Alejandro the opening he needed to slash its throat while its scaly lion’s head turned to seek out the new menace. Rocks and debris were dropping and falling all around them, flying out of the darkness—darkness which slowly increased as the day outside darkened into night, and the few windows left unboarded became nothing more than pale shadows.

Without this distraction from the Outsiders—their rock throwing punctuated with the sharp pop of a pistol, or the boom of a shotgun—he and Nik would long ago have been overwhelmed. He knew exactly where the boy stood at his back, could almost feel with him the recoil of the gun as he fired. Almost the first thing Alejandro had done was to take off his jacket and he now held it in his left hand, shaking it sometimes gently and sometimes with force. When the eyes went to the jacket instead of staying on him, he struck.

On the defensive as they both were, they would lose this battle soon. Only the
gra’if
blade could kill, and Alejandro was expecting
at any moment that one or both of them would be bitten, he to Fade forever, and Nik to be emptied. He was doing his best to keep them off the boy, but why he had not succumbed himself was more than he could guess at. It was important to defend the boy. Valory would wish it. They did not need to win, only to die on their feet.

Alejandro’s blood sang and in the distance he could hear the crowds cheering him. He looked around him for the bull.

Moon lost too much time finding a working Portal to allow protocol to delay her further. She Moved directly to her sister’s pavilion.

“Max,” she said, her sides heaving. “Where is Truthsheart?”

“Take a breath.” Max came round the table with hands extended. “What is it?”

Moon tried, but her throat was still too tight. She coughed, her lungs painful as she dragged in air. “Max, I must have a squad of Wild Riders, now, immediately.” She was afraid he would waste time with questions, but she should have known better.

“Wings of Cloud,” he called. The Moonward Rider appeared in the doorway, with a smile for his Prince that faded when he saw Moon. “How many Wild Riders in camp?” Max asked.

Frowning, Wings thought for what felt to Moon like several minutes. “Five, perhaps six,” he said finally.

“Any more who bear
gra’if
,” Moon asked. “Anyone? It is Hounds we must kill.”

“Perhaps one or two more,” Wings said. “But—”

Max held up his hand. “Have them in front immediately.” He turned to Moon. “Where’s the problem? Can you Move everyone there directly?”

Moon shook her head and held up her hands. “The Shadowlands.” She coughed, and braced her hand on her belly.

“The Shadowlands? Moon, you know that Cassandra isn’t sending anyone there.” Max turned away from her, as if to recall the orders he’d issued.

“Wait.” She took him by the sleeve. “We have the Hunt, all in one place. The Horn was blown.”

Max stared at her, blinked, and smiled. “Now that, as they say, is a horse of a different color.” He began running for the exit.

The Wild Riders, accustomed to sudden alarms, were already
gathered in front of the pavilion when Moon followed Max out. Other Riders, most in the colors of someone’s household, began to appear. All three Wards mixed together freely: Star, Moon, and Sun, and all bore
gra’if
of one kind or another.

“
Gra’if
weapons only, if you please,” Max called out. “Those of you who don’t bear actual weapons can stand down.”

Moon waved her hands in the air. “By no means,” she said. “Those who bear
gra’if
cannot be eaten by the Hunt, so any and all will be useful.”

Max looked at her, brows raised. “We’ll talk about this later,” he said, turning back to the troops around them. “Everyone,” he said. “Gather round.”

Wings of Cloud appeared at Max’s elbow. “That is everyone,” he said. “And I am myself the senior Wild Rider present.”

Max patted him on the shoulder. “Riders,” he called out. “I have need of you, and of your
gra’if
. I ask that you follow Walks Under the Moon to the Shadowlands, where you’ll find a nest of the Hunt.”

“A Hound hunt!” called out a voice from the back of the group, and there were grim smiles, but little laughter.

“Moon says even those of you without weapons can help, as the Hunt cannot Fade someone who bears
gra’if
.” The smiles became slightly less grim.

“Can you tell us anything more, Lady Moon?” called out a Wild Rider, pushing her way to the front of those assembled. She was a Sunward Rider, her red-gold hair cut short and shaggy around her head, and kept in place with the crownlike circlet that was her
gra’if
helm. She leaned against the long spear that was the favored weapon of many among the Wild Riders.

“There looked to be at least thirty,” Moon said. “The Fourth Portal has collapsed, and so we must use the Fifth, and then a crossroads. Once at our destination, I can Move us directly to the location of the engagement.”

“Any allies we should look out for?” Wings of Cloud asked.

“Stormwolf is there.” Moon said. There were nods and murmurs among the Wild Riders. “As well as Graycloud at Moonrise, a Sunward Rider who has been living these long years in the Shadowlands. There may also be several humans,” she added. “But you will know
them as soon as you see them, from their dress if nothing else. You may kill any other.”

Now there were more smiles, straightening of shoulders, and hefting of weapons.

“They are not many,” Moon said, almost under her breath.

“Then the glory will be greater,” Wings said. “Come.” He clapped his
gra’if
-covered hands. “Spear Circle, with Lady Moon as our focus.”

With the Wild Riders to show them how, the troop formed a tight circle around her, two deep, each with one hand on the next Rider, and one hand on the Rider behind. Those in the outermost circle kept a free hand for their weapons, those in the inner circle reached in to take hold of Moon herself, touching her on shoulder or arm.

“When you are ready, Lady Moon,” Wings of Cloud called out from his position in the outer Circle.

Moon took a deep breath, focused her concentration, and Moved.

Fox still had hold of my wrist [giddiness; the kind of nausea you get from eating too much; he’d wanted to be a Wild Rider when he grew up] and swung me around behind him as he turned to face Wolf, and I went limp, thinking I would drag his arm down and keep him off balance. The ploy might have worked on a human, but my weight was nothing to a Rider. Fox jerked me back into an upright position so sharply that my teeth snapped shut and I bit the inside of my lip. He probably could have held me in the air for a couple of hours without feeling the strain.

Too fast to follow, Wolf spun in, his
gra’if
blade flashing bright, but Fox was just as fast, swinging me forward again, and Wolf had to hold off, or cut me instead of his brother.

“Good, now we know how important she is.” Seeing he could use me as a shield, Fox curled his arm around me, keeping me close up against his chest with his hand on my throat. Maybe I could flail my arms a little, but I found myself reflexively hanging onto his wrist, though I was in no danger of choking. Yet. Keeping his eyes directly on Wolf, Fox dropped the Horn on the ground and stamped on it, crushing it under his heel. Pain flared in my left hand, leaving me gasping as the heat of it passed through my entire body. For a second,
I thought it would actually choke me, and Fox’s grip was the only thing that kept me upright.

“Is this why you won’t come back to me, brother? This human thing? So how can I change your mind? What might persuade you, I wonder?” Fox turned his face into mine and breathed in, as if he was trying to inhale me. Somehow I knew his eyes were still fixed on Wolf’s. “What if I say I’ll kill her if you don’t come back? Or maybe I should promise she’ll live if you do? Hmmm? What do you think? Which would work better?”

Wolf looked at me. My head had cleared, though my hand still felt as if it was burning. I could taste blood from where I had bitten myself. I moved my head from side to side, just a centimeter or so each way, but Wolf was looking for it, and caught it. To be honest, I didn’t know whether Fox was lying or not. Apparently, sufficient pain was enough to dampen my talent—temporarily, I found myself hoping. I shook my head not because I knew Fox was lying, but because I knew that it didn’t matter, that Wolf would have to deal with him regardless, and I didn’t want to be the thing that stopped him.

“Let her go.” Wolf said. “You will do what you will do. Whatever may happen, may happen. But if you do not let her go, I will kill you myself, right here and now.” I couldn’t be certain, because of the angle my own head was at, but I was pretty sure Wolf wasn’t looking Fox directly in the eye.
Do not look them in the eyes, and keep striking, no matter what.
I didn’t know where that thought came from; I only knew it wasn’t mine.

“No, I don’t think so.” I could feel Fox’s voice rumbling in his chest. Suddenly I was choking as Fox’s grip on my throat tightened. Wolf stepped forward, his blade up, and Fox must have seen the determination in his eyes because he relaxed again, not letting me simply drop to the ground, but tossing me to one side. I tried to curl, to protect my hot and throbbing hand, but I landed hard against the arm of a chair, and felt something give in my side.