Red Hood's Revenge (7 page)

“It’s a great disguise.” Snow’s insistence would have been more convincing without the smirk. “Can you think of any way to make you look
less
like Talia Malak-el-Dahshat?”

She had a point. This was about as different as Talia could get while remaining human. She grabbed the mirror pinned to her cloak, turning it to study her reflection. A thick gray beard covered a pale, wrinkled face. Her scalp was bald, spotted by age. One milky eye stared off at an odd angle. The other was pale blue. Talia reached up to touch an oversized nose. “Where did you come up with this?”

“The library,” said Snow. “That’s Gregor Vindamar, a very important wizard. He discovered the four laws of binding. If not for him, I’d never have been able to make this choker.”

“What about the staff?” Talia asked. Her voice was different as well. Deep and raspy.

“You couldn’t be clumsy if you tried. Your grace gives you away.” Snow reached over to rap the staff, which she had shaped from a sapling near the edge of the woods. “Hard to be graceful with a limp.”

“I suppose.” Talia gave the staff a quick spin. The wood was solid enough to make a serviceable weapon. This could work.

“If anyone asks,” Snow added, “you’re my personal chef and eunuch Gregory.”

Talia jabbed the staff into the dirt. “Bare hands it is.”

Snow ignored her. She raised a hand for silence, peering into the darkness. “We’re getting close,” she whispered.

Talia moved ahead, making as little noise as possible, nothing anyone should be able to hear over the sounds of the forest.

A branch cracked overhead. Talia leaped back, staff raised, but the branch fell harmlessly to the ground a short distance to her right. A woodpecker attacked a tree in the distance. The wind brushed through the leaves. She searched the trees, but saw nothing unusual.

“Relax.” Snow’s features were Danielle’s, but the amused smile was all Snow. “The dryads are long gone. Without them, these trees are nothing but wood.” She glanced upward. “To be safe, I wouldn’t go waving an ax around or starting any fires, though.”

“How much farther?” Talia asked.

“We crossed the outer boundary of the grove just now. Didn’t you feel it? Like stepping through wet cobwebs. Centuries ago, they were strong enough to warn even the most magically blind away from this place.”

Talia turned around, trying to make the motion as casual as possible. There had been a flicker of motion in the distance. The darkness turned every shape into a potential threat. A clump of leaves overhead could be a killer waiting in ambush. A fat stump could be Roudette herself, crouching with weapons drawn.

“Malindar fought here,” Snow whispered. “He was young then, but already powerful.”

Talia stepped over a fallen tree. “I care about that why?”

“Talia, some say this is where the war between men and fairies started! Without Malindar, this whole isle might belong to the fairies. Malindar’s Treaty—”

“Has nothing to do with finding Roudette. History lessons later.” Talia spun, searching the blackness behind them. A shadow the size of a large dog trotted through the trees. Talia switched her staff to her left hand and reached for a knife, but whatever it was didn’t appear interested.

“Check on Charlotte again,” Talia whispered. “Make sure Roudette’s still with her.”

“I’m sure.” Snow tapped her mirror. “It’s the old fairy magic making you jumpy.”

“I am
not
jumpy.” Talia scowled at the darkness, jammed her knife back into the sheath, and moved on.

The ground beneath her feet soon changed, taking on the feel of crushed stone. They reached another fallen tree, this one as wide as her outstretched arms. Talia crouched to pick up an acorn. She never would have known it to be stone without touching it. She pressed a hand to the tree, feeling the cold, heavy bark beneath her palm.

“Even the insects within the wood,” Snow whispered, plucking a tiny stone ant from a hole in the side of the trunk. “Amazing.”

Talia peered past the tree. She could make out a clearing ahead. She grabbed Snow’s sleeve, pulling her attention back to the task at hand. “Up there. Tell Trittibar.”

Snow untied her pouch, leaving it open so Trittibar would be able to act. While Snow whispered to the fairy, Talia reached into her left boot and pulled out a flat leather sheath containing a pair of Hiladi throwing knives. The weapons were deadly, but they were a pain to carry. Not only were the blades razor sharp, but a second, smaller, blade jutted from the pommel. The crossguard was pointed as well, long enough to penetrate almost the length of Talia’s thumb. She untied the sheath and unfolded the flaps that protected the secondary points.

She took one knife and held it against her staff with her left hand. The other she gripped with her right, pressing the blade to her wrist and tugging her sleeve forward to conceal it. Wordlessly, she and Snow approached the clearing, using the other trees for cover.

Enormous stumps covered the earth ahead, the roots so thick they wove together, forming dark pits and caves. Charlotte sat in one such cave, bound and helpless as Snow had described her. Her head hung low, in either sleep or despair, Talia couldn’t tell.

Behind her, perched atop the stone roots of a fallen oak, waited the Lady of the Red Hood. She held a short horn-tipped recurve bow, already drawn. So much for catching her off guard.

“Princess Whiteshore?” Roudette moved the bow toward Talia. “I told you to come alone.”

“I brought no guards,” said Snow, keeping to the safety of an old pine tree.

Charlotte jerked awake. “Who’s there? Danielle?” There was no haughtiness in her words, only fear. Perhaps two years in Fairytown had broken her pride.

Snow’s magic gave her Danielle’s voice but not her intonation or her patterns of speech. It wouldn’t take long for Charlotte to realize this wasn’t her stepsister.

Snow ran a hand over the branches, snapping stone needles into her palm. “This is my servant and personal chef, Gregory. I came as you requested, but I refuse to go back to eating peasant food.”

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. Talia limped forward, making sure she presented more of a target than Snow. Not even Talia could dodge an arrow at this range, but her chances were better than Snow’s, and she could probably twist enough to keep it from killing her.

Roudette was much as Talia remembered. She was older, probably in her early forties. Her blonde curls had lost much of their color, and her complexion was cracked leather. Black fur lined the inside of her famous cape. Golden characters in a language Talia didn’t recognize bordered the edges.

“I didn’t expect you to come,” Roudette said. “I know what Charlotte and her sister tried to do to you.”

Snow didn’t move. “Are you all right, Charlotte?”

“Am I all right? She
cut off my toe!
I haven’t eaten in three days!”

This was definitely Danielle’s stepsister. Talia adjusted her grip on her knives. If she could kill Roudette with the first knife, that left the other for Charlotte. The idea was tempting . . . but Danielle would hound her about it for years.

Talia stepped to the right, trying to get a better angle. Roudette had positioned herself where Charlotte’s body would help shield her. That left the eyes and the throat as the best targets.

“Give Charlotte to me,” said Snow.

“You’re welcome to her.” Roudette’s mouth twisted. “I’ll thank you for taking her off my hands. How you lived with the bitch for so long without gutting her I’ll never understand.”

“I wonder the same thing sometimes,” Snow admitted.

A wolf howled in the distance, and Charlotte whimpered. Roudette smiled at the sound. “The Duchess was right about you, Princess. She assured me you’d never leave your stepsister to die, despite everything she did to you. Just as she told me you would bring help.”

“The Duchess hired you?” Talia asked. The Lady of the Red Hood working with a would-be fairy ruler?

Roudette laughed, a sound of genuine merriment. Her bow never moved from Talia. “The Duchess has nothing that would persuade me to work for her. She merely provided me with the tool to finish the job.”

Charlotte shook her head. She was even paler than before, her face sweaty. “I won’t,” she whispered.

“Bravely spoken,” Roudette said. “But you speak as though you had a choice.”

“Why do you need Charlotte to kill me?” Snow asked.

“Not you. Your companion.”

“You can’t have Gregory,” Snow said firmly. “He’s my favorite eunuch!”

Talia scowled but said nothing. She still couldn’t get a clear line on Roudette.

Another wolf called out, this one from the opposite side of the grove. Roudette’s smile grew. “Don’t bother using your tricks on them, Princess Whiteshore. You may be able to influence rodents, but my wolves won’t dare disobey their pack leader.”

Talia took another step forward. “What do you want from me?”

“Your disguise is marvelous, Talia,” said Roudette. “But you’ve done nothing to change your scent.”

“My
scent
?” Talia threw her first knife. At the same time, Roudette loosed her arrow and leaped away. The arrow buzzed past Talia’s ear just as Talia’s knife sparked against the stone stump.

“You could have killed me, you stupid cow!” Charlotte yelled.

Talia was already diving for cover as Roudette’s next arrow flew past. Snow had ducked behind a tree, where she was muttering a quick spell. She raised her hands to her mouth and blew.

Stone needles flew like tiny darts. Roudette dropped her bow and raised her cape. Most of the needles buried themselves in the cape, but a few struck Roudette’s hand and face. Roudette cursed and pulled a spiked war hammer from her belt.

Talia started forward when she heard something crashing after her. She turned her next step into a roll, tumbling to the side as a wolf landed in the dirt beside her. Still prone, Talia flung her second knife at the wolf. It was an awkward throw, resulting in a shallow wound to the wolf’s chest, but it slowed the animal long enough for Talia to rise and draw her sword.

By now, Trittibar had freed himself from Snow’s pouch and stood human-sized once more. In his hand he held a slender sword with a gold blade and a basket hilt.

Roudette was already disappearing through the trees. Talia jumped over Charlotte, only to turn back as the wolf charged after her. The wolf was no longer alone. Talia counted six closing in around them. The smallest was half again as large as any wolf Talia had ever seen.

“I thought Roudette worked alone,” Snow shouted.

Trittibar sliced through the ropes holding Charlotte’s arm, then spun to face one of the wolves. Charlotte stretched to grab Talia’s fallen knife and started cutting herself free.

Talia plucked the knife from Charlotte’s hand and threw it left-handed at another wolf. “Where’s Roudette? If we kill her, will it break her control over the wolves?”

“I’m not sure,” said Snow. “She’s got them pretty riled.”

“They’re fairy beasts.” Trittibar jabbed his sword at one.

“You’re a fairy,” Talia snapped. “Stop them!”

“Kill Roudette, and I’ll do my best.”

Talia glanced to the side, searching for Roudette. She spotted a glimpse of red moving through the trees, but before she could act, another wolf jumped onto the top of a stump and crouched to pounce.

“Snow!” Talia lunged forward, jabbing her blade at the wolf. An instant later, one of Snow’s steel snowflakes spun through the air and stabbed the wolf’s nose.

“I got him!” Snow beamed and grabbed another snowflake.

The wolf on the stump pounced, crashing into Trittibar. It grabbed Trittibar’s arm in its jaws even as the fairy thrust his gold blade into the wolf’s side. Talia tried to help, but had to turn away to fend off another wolf.

Trittibar yelled as he was ripped off his feet, but he kept his grip on his sword, twisting the blade in the wolf’s side. The wolf cried out and tried to back away, but Trittibar followed, ramming the blade home until the hilt struck fur. Only then did he yank his weapon free. His other arm hung limp and bloody at his side.

In the distance, Talia saw Roudette unfasten her cape and flip it about so the wolfskin was on the outside. As the cape settled over Roudette’s body, she snarled as if in pain. The wolfskin tightened around her, crushing her into a new form. Even over the sound of battle, Talia could hear bones and joints popping and shifting. Roudette rose on all fours and shook like a wet dog.

“Did you know she could change into a wolf?” Snow asked.

“There have been rumors.” Trittibar’s face was pale, his mouth tight from pain. “We can’t fight them all. These creatures were raised by the fairy queen herself.”

“Stay close to me.” Snow flung another handful of stone needles, magic turning them into tiny darts. When the wolves jumped away, she dropped to her knees and cast a new spell. Dirt swirled around her. The wind grew, flinging dirt and stone around them all.

Talia lowered her sword and backed toward the others. Dirt and grit abraded her face, but it was nothing compared to the wall of stone and wind passing in front of her. “What are you doing?”

Snow didn’t answer. Her choker shone, each mirror burning like a tiny sun as she worked her magic. Stronger and stronger the wind blew, breaking stone branches from fallen trees and tossing them like missiles. The wolves backed away.

Roudette had joined the wolves by now. She was smaller than the others, her fur black as shadow save where it whitened near the muzzle. Golden eyes watched Talia through the maelstrom.

Charlotte was clawing frantically at her ropes. “You have to get me away from her! I don’t want to die like this, torn apart by wolves.”

“I could kill you myself,” Talia offered.

“You wouldn’t dare!” She turned to Trittibar. “You can’t let her.”