The Unfinished Song - Book 6: Blood (21 page)

But Umbral had seen this man only hours ago. Scared but not insane, thin, but not famished. The black terror in the hole had decayed its victim to quivering ruin in less than a day.
Whatever is in that hole, it is the place memories go to die… but never do.

The mutes were rough as they yanked the hooks out of the captive’s flesh. Flakes of skin and dried blood floated in the smoky haze. They dragged away the sobbing man.

Umbral was alone in the Blood House.

The myriad of skulls glowed and glowered. The burning fat was not the only source of their light. There was a magical component as well, as if filaments of Chroma served as wicks for their flames. He failed to comprehend, at first, because the idea was too monstrous—even the Deathsworn didn’t have a place such as this, dedicated to only
this
…

The Blood House focused power for one purpose: ripping apart auras.

Umbral had believed himself a man with nothing left to lose, but now he faced the truth. Even though he had no Chromas left, he did have threads in his Penumbra—all his thoughts, hopes, dreams, memories, hates, and loves, not to mention his oath of honor to Lady Death. He had remnants of Kavio’s memories.

He had his love for Dindi.

He had
everything
to lose.

Above all, he must not reveal his love for her. It would endanger Dindi if the fae or their human servants, like Finnadro, knew that a Deathsworn loved her. That she was his secret ally against the Bone Whistler.

He could never betray his Lady, either. Somehow, he had to protect her at the same time he protected Dindi. Even if the Black Lady was the one who had ordered him to murder Dindi.

I will not succumb.

I will not submit.

I will not surrender.

At night’s tail, just before dawn, pixies landed on Dindi’s head and started jumping until she woke up to shoo them off.

“You have
got
to be kidding me,” she groaned. “What is wrong with you fae? Have you never heard of
sleep
?”

She rubbed her eyes, fighting déjà vu. Hadn’t she just been poked awake by pixies a few hours ago?

Once again finger-sized pixies thronged around her sleeping mat, but this time instead of flori, they were all foli, autumnal pixies, mostly Orange, Yellow and Red. The slender girls wore crunchy skirts of fall leaves and the boys, caps and shields made from acorn tops and walnut shells. Kinnaras, bird-winged sprites, feathered like robins, jays, cardinals, tanagers, and finches fluttered nearby as well.

“We want to sleep, too,” complained the foli. “It’s coming on our nap season. But the Orange Lady has altered the song, and the music is calling us back to the trees. We already painted the leaves in gold and scarlet this year—are we to do so twice in one turn?”

“And we,” said the kinnaras, “have been preparing to arrange eggs in nests. But the song has been altered, and we see no eggs in the music now.”

“And I suppose the Aelfae have gone somewhere without me,” Dindi grumbled.

Tremendous snores suggested otherwise. When she sat up she saw the other Aelfae were all asleep—Hest was the source of the bear-like rumblings—except Vessia, who was already gowned and half way out the door. Dindi hastened after her.

Dawn on the mountaintop shuddered under bitter winds. Nothing of the usual vistas could be seen due to a skirt of cloud which had encircled the slopes. Rhythmic thumps indicated the slave women were pounding potatoes, unseen in their huts, but otherwise few people were awake. Some men had passed out drunk around the bonfires the night before and snored on mats arranged around the embers.

Dindi trailed Vessia for a number of steps before the Aelfae acknowledged her, albeit without turning around.

“You? Again?”

“Did you hear what the foli and kinnaras said?”

“Of course. You think they did not approach me as well?” Vessia sniffed. “You will learn that the Lower Fae panic easily and complain frequently. It’s best not to overreact.”

“I thought the Aelfae were supposed to be the best of the High Fae. Not only the strongest and fairest, but the wisest. The ones who maintained balance in the world.”

“There are yet but eight of us, niece.”

“Enough to succor the Green Lady.”

“The Orange Lady will be busy torturing her. Not a joy to behold. Or perhaps you consider torture entertainment?”

“Or perhaps we could
stop it
.”

Vessia smiled sadly. “Still trying to play hero? There’s nothing we can do until after the eclipse.”

“Why? Because
Xerpen
said so?” Dindi balled her fists. “Look, we can at least
visit
her. Maybe there’s
something
we can do. Maybe we can talk sense into the Orange Lady, or…”

Vessia was shaking her head. “As soon ask water to flow uphill.”

“Please.” Dindi stood directly in front of Vessia, blocking her path.

“I was on my way there.” Vessia pointed to a lone tree.

“Oh.” Abashed, Dindi moved. Vessia resumed her trajectory, and Dindi resumed trailing her. “I thought it was futile.”

“Some deeds must be done despite their futility.”

Naturally, they had to cross the Bridge of One Thread again, and naturally the lone tree was at the very edge of a cliff, though not overlooking the Black Well. A different cliff—there were plenty to go around. There were no other trees in the tribehold, and there was something extremely odd about this one. It was tucked almost out of sight. At first she thought it was simply growing out of a rocky ledge below the main outcrop, but then she saw that, in fact, the roots formed an enormous web that fanned out all along the ground. The rest of the tree (some breed of pine gnarled beyond recognition) was not visible until one stood upon its roots because it grew
upside down
. A century or more of relentless winds had beaten it down, literally, until the entire trunk leaned from the ledge over the chasm, like a weary old man contemplating suicide.

Glowing Orange raptors, Vyfae in the form of giant predator birds, like the Imorvae Raptors but luminous with vicious magic, circled in the air around the lurching pine. The Orange Lady herself flew with them.

Last of all, Dindi saw what had been done to the Green Lady. To the tree itself she’d been bound, upside down like the pine, with her ankles encased by the roots and her arms held outstretched over her head by the branches. She was nude, and her skin, instead of its usual vibrant spring green, looked withered, splotched, and stained with patches of brown dried blood. She resembled a dying leaf. She was alive again but contorted by pain. The Vyfae had indeed wasted no time in beginning her torture.

“They will peck at her all day, then slay her again at sunset.” It was hard to guess if Vessia’s icy tone owed to outrage or indifference. “If the Orange Lady had her way, this would continue for eternity, and autumn would precede winter, then follow it again, endlessly. Spring would never come.”

“We can’t allow that.”

“We?” Vessia lifted her brows in amusement. “’We will allow it for two days more, because we must. Besides, I’m told the Vyfae and Sylfae fought a war, and the Sylfae lost. Some would say this is the spoils of the Orange Lady’s victory.”

“It was not the war the Sylfae lost, but
you
, when Amdra abducted you. The whole war was nothing but a cover for that theft. You would never have allowed this before. You
cared
about people. Fae or human. Now you don’t seem to care about anyone but yourself.”

Oops. Too far. Dindi knew it even before Vessia frosted and narrowed her eyes.

A great glowing eagle landed before them and resolved into the human form of the Orange Lady.

“Have you come to play, sister?” she asked.

“Let me speak to her,” said Vessia.

The Orange Lady frowned but gestured to the other Vyfae. In a moment, they dropped the Green Lady in a heap at Vessia’s feet. Vessia and Dindi helped her sit up. She touched Vessia’s face reverently.

“Ask anything of me, sister, and I promise I must grant it,” Vessia said. “Ask me for your freedom.”

“Nay, for if I do, my Eagle sister will fight you. She does not understand forgiveness—but I do. She does not understand love—but I do. For you, sister, I told my Henchman to cooperate with these, his enemies and mine. I knew what would happen. Branch or fruit, trunk or root, what is mine is yours to plant or uproot. Let me die a thousand days screaming if it helps you.”

“I have granted you a wish,” insisted Vessia, “and bid you name it.”

“I have only one wish: to see my Henchman one last time.”

“Ah, Thar, you silly girl,” sighed Vessia. “Why did you squander your wish on that? What can I do with you if you will not help yourself? Is your Henchman here, still?”

“Yes, helping us.”

Vessia looked up at the Orange Lady. “See that she is allowed to bid him farewell.”

“He will seek to aid her!” protested the Orange Lady.

“No,” said the Green Lady. “He will honor our cause.”

The faeries reached an agreement. Even the pixies accepted the deal. The unfairness of it all still incensed Dindi, but they ignored her. Vessia insisted the two of them return across the Bridge of One Thread (Dindi was almost,
almost
becoming adept at crossing it), to the Guest Lodge. The fog had thinned, though not by much. The whole venture had occurred before morning meal. The other Aelfae were just waking up as Vessia and Dindi returned.

The Aelfae unfurled themselves like morning glories, ready to drink in the day. They chatted amongst themselves, excluding her. They still regarded her as some weird combination of a captive, traitor or pet. Yastara and Lothlo were to watch her today.

They all wanted to know Xerpen’s plan. He appeared briefly while they ate morning meal, to tell them a little about their past and a little about the ceremony to be held in three days, promising he would share all the details. In the meantime, he expected them all to attend the day’s ritual, the second ceremony of the Paxota, held at noon: the Offering of Virgins.

He said nothing to Dindi, an omission for which she was grateful, although he did bestow on her one sly, creepy smile when he mentioned the
Offering of
Virgins
. Before the Aelfae finished eating, he disappeared again, leaving them in the Guest House on their own.

None of them liked that, aside from Dindi, who couldn’t wait for him to depart, but Vessia had the hardest time concealing her annoyance. Dindi sensed an opportunity.

“If you are to dance in the ritual in two days, don’t you need to learn and practice your
tama
?” she asked.

“What is there to learn or practice?” asked Kia. “You either dance or you don’t.”

“We don’t dance as you humans do,” Vessia explained.

“How do
they
do it?” asked Kia.

“They determine their moves ahead of time and execute them identically each time they perform,” said Vessia. “It’s regimented.”

“How absolutely bizarre.”

“Quite.”

“But how do you know what to do when the time comes?” asked Dindi.

“It flows.”

“So there’s nothing unusual in Xerpen withholding information about what spell he wants you to dance?” Dindi asked innocently.

Vessia frowned at her. Vessia had been frowning a lot lately.

“If a human did that, I’d think he didn’t want me to know his plan because he knew I would disapprove,” said Dindi. “But that’s not an issue for Aelfae, I suppose.”

Vessia didn’t answer, but Hest cleared his throat.

“Not at all,” he said. “Because there’s nothing Xerpen would do that we would disapprove of.”

“So you would be pleased to find out he plans to kill all of us…”

“Us?”

“Humans.”

“I thought you were Aelfae,” Vessia said dryly.

“I’m both.”

“You can’t be both.”

“So people keep telling me. Yet here I am. Both.”

“You can’t be both a fish and bird.”

“Aelfae can.”

“That’s different. We change our shape. Never our nature.”

“Humans are just like that but different. We don’t change our shape. We change our nature.”

“That’s why you can’t be trusted,” said Vessia.

“I don’t care if you don’t trust me. Just spare some of your distrust for the one who has done the most to earn distrust—the Bone Whistler. The one you call Xerpen.”

“I have no reason to distrust him. He is
not
planning to annihilate humankind. You are the ones who made an ally of Death.
We
are not murderers.”

“The Bone Whistler has murdered plenty…”

“Stop calling him that.”

“…And he’s just getting started. Ask him.”