Red Hood's Revenge (34 page)

“Don’t stare,” Roudette warned. “They’ll entrance you if you look too long.”

The will-o’-the-wisps streaked over the desert, zipping about like animated torch flames. They moved in total silence, splitting into two groups and circling Talia and Roudette.

Roudette growled and swung a fist at one that flew too close. Another bobbed around Talia’s head. Will-o’the-wisps were barely intelligent, about as smart as an average dog. This one seemed to have decided Talia was less dangerous than her companion, and was carefully keeping Talia between itself and Roudette.

With a smile, Talia snapped a kick that sent it flying backward. Roudette chuckled as it crashed into the sand, light flickering. Slowly, it rose back into the air.

The will-o’-the-wisps kept a safe distance after that.

Talia flexed her foot. The impact had covered her sandal in glowing yellow powder, as fine as pollen. She dragged her foot through the sand, rubbing off the worst of it.

The hounds were next, their howls carrying over the desert, making it sound as though they closed in from all sides.

Roudette tightened her grip on the rope running to Talia’s neck. With her right hand, she drew a double-edged iron knife so long and thick it was practically a sword.

“We’ve made no bargain yet.” Roudette rested the edge of the knife against Talia’s throat. “They may try to take you by force. Whatever happens, stay calm.”

Talia fought to keep from moving. Snow’s curse wouldn’t allow Roudette to kill her, no matter how she might threaten. “Calm? Even if this works—even if we kill Zestan and lead the Kha’iida to her lair to destroy her minions—we’re unlikely to see another sunrise.”

“You agreed to the plan,” Roudette pointed out.

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Roudette laughed softly. “I chose my path when I donned the wolf. Grandmother’s death showed me where that path would ultimately lead. I was too young to stop the Hunt then. You’ve given me another chance, and for that I thank you.”

Roudette dragged Talia in front of her as the first of the hunters came into view. Not that Talia would be of much use as a shield. Fairy archers were said to be able to shoot the stinger from a wasp. But any impact would knock Roudette back, dragging her knife across Talia’s throat.

The hunters rode through the sky upon a path of smoke and embers that appeared before them, vanishing after their passage. The riders themselves shone like moonlight. The rumble of the horses’ hooves sounded like distant thunder. Talia realized she was pressing against Roudette, her body instinctively retreating from the approaching hunters.

“Few have witnessed the approach of the Wild Hunt and survived to tell of it,” Roudette said.

“How comforting.” Talia sniffed. Roudette’s breath was foul, smelling of blood and raw goat. “I told you to leave the animals alone!”

“The Kha’iida won’t miss just one.”

Talia counted eight riders, only a small part of the Wild Hunt. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to watch the full Hunt thundering through the sky.

Their garb was an eclectic mix. One man wore a helm fashioned from the skull of a young dragon. Another was naked from the waist up, his body painted in swirls of red. A third wore fur-lined garments and heavy boots.

The lead rider raised a twisted horn to his lips. Talia heard nothing, but the hunters reacted instantly, spreading out to encircle their prey. The hounds filled in the gaps between the horses.

“Say nothing,” Roudette whispered. To the hunters, she shouted, “I will bargain with Zestan-e-Jheg, and her alone.”

The lead rider nudged his horse forward. White hair streamed behind him like a cape. He said nothing. Thinking back to the hunter at the temple, Talia wondered if they could speak at all. Will-o’-the-wisps bobbed behind him, as if peeking over his shoulders.

Roudette dug her knife into Talia’s throat, and the rider stopped. A drop of blood tickled Talia’s neck. She hadn’t even felt the blade break the skin.

“Your word as a fairy,” said Roudette. “You will deliver us safely to Zestan. Should we fail to reach an accord, you will return us to this spot and leave us in peace for one night. Those are my terms. Reject them, and I’ll spill her blood right here.”

“The riders are human,” Talia whispered. “Not bound by fairy oaths.”

“Their humanity died long ago. They are the Wild Hunt.”

The hunter tilted his head in assent.

Roudette sheathed her weapon. “Don’t try to run, Princess,” she said. “The dogs would bring you down before you took your second step, and believe me, these are not gentle creatures.”

Talia made a show of pushing back as Roudette dragged her toward the hunter. A backhanded blow sent Talia sprawling. “Consider that repayment for the cut you gave me in Lorindar,” Roudette said, touching the scab on her face.

Talia pushed herself to her feet, tasting blood. She spat, and then the rider was reaching down to seize the front of her robe. He hauled her onto the horse behind him. Even if she had wanted to escape, the hunter’s grip was steel. Talia hastily adjusted her robe and pouch to protect Snow and Danielle from being crushed.

The hunter’s body was warmer than she had expected, almost feverish. He gestured, and the bare-chested hunter rode forward, reaching for Roudette.

“I ride with my prey,” Roudette said, still holding the end of Talia’s leash. The other hunter backed away, and Roudette climbed up behind Talia.

The horse took a quick step forward, off- balance from the weight of three people. Talia spat again. If Snow’s mirrors failed, maybe her blood would help the Kha’iida trackers find this spot.

The leader blew his horn once more. Though it made no sound, this time Talia was close enough to feel the air grow warm, as though an invisible fire burned within the horn. As one, the Wild Hunt brought their horses about, and then they were off. The air shimmered and tore before them. Hooves pounded a smoldering trail through the air. Sweat soon dampened Talia’s robe.

The hounds barked and yowled as they ran alongside their masters. There was no wind, even as the hills of Arathea rushed past. The landscape shimmered as though she looked upon the desert through a curtain of moonlight. As far as she could tell, they traveled north-east, toward the Makras River.

Rock and sand changed to grassy marshes, which gave way to the wide, slow- moving waters of the Makras. Such a distance would have taken two days for a mortal rider. The Hunt crossed the Makras without slowing, each horse clearing the river in a single leap.

They veered north, cutting through the marshlands as they followed the river. Eventually the Hunt slowed. Up ahead, marshes changed to a broad, open plain of sand and cracked earth. A chill crawled down Talia’s back, despite the heat of the hunter. “I know this place.”

“It looks like an old lakebed.”

Talia turned back toward the river. “The lake was drained while I slept. The family of Prince Qussan spent thirty years and their entire fortune to do it. They diverted the Makras more than a mile upstream, damming off any tributaries that tried to feed into the lake. They hoped that by robbing this place of water, they might kill the hedge that had taken Qussan.”

According to the histories she had learned at the temple, this had been about ten years after Talia was cursed. With the palace engulfed by the hedge, many in the city had already fled. As the water dried, the rest soon left, leaving only the Sisters of the Hedge behind.

The ruins of the old city stood on the far side of the lake. Drifts of sand covered the roads. Beyond, she could make out the silhouette of a castle.

Talia forced herself to breathe. “This was my home.”

The original Temple of the Hedge sat empty a short distance from the palace. The palace where she had grown up was in better shape than the crumbling city. Perhaps the hedge had preserved it as well. One of the windcatchers still stood, though the other had fallen and ripped a gash in the wall of the western wing. Patches of vines covered the ground, struggling to survive, though most appeared brittle and broken.

A lone figure waited outside the palace. Talia’s mouth went dry, and she brought her hands to her chest, feeling the reassuring weight of the knives in her robe. As the Hunt brought her closer, she relaxed. This wasn’t Zestan. It appeared to be a swamp troll, tall and broad, with skin like a rotting log and hair the color of algae.

Roudette jumped down, dragging Talia after. “I come to bargain with Zestan!”

The troll lumbered forward. Her face was so warty Talia could barely make out her eyes. It was as though she wore a mask made from toadskins. Her clothes were crocodile skin the color of old tobacco, and she carried a staff of twisted driftwood.

Roudette’s knife found Talia’s neck. The troll slowed. Her nostrils flapped open as she sniffed the air. She moved closer, until her toes almost touched Talia’s. The troll inhaled so sharply that wisps of Talia’s hair disappeared up her nose. Yellow eyes narrowed. A serpentine tongue darted between her lips, touching the side of Talia’s neck.

Talia twisted away, but the troll was done. She stepped back, both hands on her staff.

“Are you satisfied?” Roudette demanded. “This is Princess Talia Malak-el-Dahshat. Where is Zestan?”

“You’ll understand if Zestan prefers not to meet with a known killer of fairies,” the troll said.

At the sound of the troll’s voice, something deep inside Talia recoiled. Her breathing quickened, and only Roudette’s unbreakable grip kept Talia from lunging forward and stabbing her knife into the troll’s chest. “Who are you?” she whispered.

The troll’s smile exposed huge yellow teeth. “You know who I am. A part of you remembers. My name is Naghesh. I saved your life, long ago.”

Talia stared, trying to understand her reaction. She would have sworn she had never seen Naghesh, yet some part of her recognized the troll. Recognized and hated her.

“You were a sickly thing then,” Naghesh went on. “Your brothers and sister were healthy enough, but not you. Small and weak, born almost a month before your time. Your parents feared for your life, so they summoned the fairies of Arathea, begging us to transform you from a sniveling runt into the princess they truly desired.”

She circled Talia and Roudette, the end of her staff grinding into the sand with each step.

“You were there,” said Talia. “You were one of the fairies who did this to me.”

Naghesh dipped her head. “I was the last. The one who saved you from my sister’s curse of death.”

Talia stomped her right heel onto the arch of Roudette’s foot and bent forward. Roudette was strong, but Talia was faster. She tossed Roudette over her hip. Even as Roudette slammed onto the ground, Talia was yanking the knife from Roudette’s hand. She leaped at Naghesh.

The driftwood staff in Naghesh’s hands writhed to life, striking Talia’s arm like a snake. The knife fell into the dirt. A second blow numbed Talia’s shoulder. “You have no secrets from me, child,” said Naghesh. “My magic flows in your blood.”

Talia yanked her hands free of the ropes. She slid her foot into the sand and kicked the knife into the air, snatching it with her left hand. Magic or no, she doubted the troll was fast enough to dodge a thrown blade.

Roudette crashed into her from behind, knocking them both to the ground. Her hand seized Talia’s wrist, squeezing until the bone threatened to snap.

“You can’t,” Roudette said.

Talia fought to keep the knife. She jabbed her fingers at Roudette’s eyes, then kicked behind her at Naghesh. Roudette blocked and returned the blow, striking Talia in the head hard enough to make her vision flash.

Roudette’s eyes widened, and she fell back. Her hands ripped her shirt, exposing the mark Snow had left on her shoulder. She grabbed the mark with both hands.

Talia rolled over, raising the knife to throw when a silver arrow buried itself in the sand between them. Three of the hunters sat with bows drawn.

“Twitch and they’ll pin you to the earth,” Naghesh said, stepping around Talia. “I know your gifts, child. You’re not fast enough.”

Dropping the knife was one of the hardest things Talia had ever done. “I
will
kill you for what you did to my family.”

“Perhaps.” Naghesh reached out to dig a claw into Roudette’s shoulder. “This resembles a fairy mark. Don’t tell me humans are trying to steal our magic.”

Roudette’s body arched and she fell back, whimpering through clenched teeth as Snow’s curse took effect, boiling the blood in her body. Furious as Talia was at Roudette’s betrayal, she had no desire to see her tortured to death by such magic.

Naghesh pressed the end of her staff to Roudette’s shoulder. Roudette collapsed, gasping. Even in the moonlight, Talia could see that her shoulder was red and blistered. Red streaks webbed the back of her hand.

“There we go,” said Naghesh. “Nothing Zestan’s magic can’t cure. You’re in Zestan’s debt now, Red Hood. Not that I imagine that will mean anything to you.”

Roudette pushed herself to her hands and knees. “I did as I said I would, Naghesh. I delivered Sleeping Beauty to you.”

“And you shall have the reward you were promised.”

Talia faced Roudette, her own blood going cold as she realized the truth. “You were never working for Lakhim. You work for Zestan.”

Roudette said nothing.

“I should have killed you the moment we arrived in Arathea.”

“Yes, you should have.” Roudette stood and walked over to reclaim her knife. “Remember that lesson when you awaken in another hundred years.”