Ross Lawhead (17 page)

Daniel turned the stone over in his hand. Questions? Where to begin? “Where are you from, and who sent you here?”

Kay turned and went back to his horse. He brushed its head and nuzzled it affectionately. “I was sent here by the Doubted King of this world who will one day return to rule righteously.”

“Is he a good king?”

“Yes, but that doesn't mean he'll be good to you. He does what is right for his kingdom, even if that means that he's hard on his subjects.”

“Am I one of his subjects?”

Kay rubbed his cheek against his horse's muzzle and patted its head. “I don't know, are you?”

“If I'm not, why should I do what he wants?”

Kay whispered into his horse's ear and gave it a smack on the rump; it turned and cantered off the way it had come. “Because he's right. No time for more questions,” he said, turning and scanning the sky. “Enter the woods quickly now, for I am being pursued by our enemies. Don't exit the woods, no matter in what trouble you see me. Hurry now, your life depends on it. Don't forget— take nothing that is not given!” he called out. “Oh,” he added, “and don't talk to dead people!”

Daniel started jogging towards the woods and then remembered that he hadn't heard the answer to one of his questions. “You never told me where you were from!” Daniel shouted.

Kay told him just as he started off at a run along the tree line.

Daniel reached the trunk of a large pine and crouched behind it. He watched Kay speed away from him, running easily. The sun finally set, leaving the sky a dusky pink. Just as Daniel was about to stand, he heard a screech from the sky, which was followed by several more. His eyes flicked upwards and he saw eight large birds, black against the sky, flapping and diving furiously at the small, dark figure.

The black birds—crows, maybe—descended upon Kay, hurling themselves at his back and shoulders. They were like guided missiles with sharpened beaks and talons that clawed at him. Then, opening their wings, they took to the sky, only to swoop down upon their target again. Even at this distance, Daniel could see that his thick coat, which had helped him tough out the cold streets of Oxford, was very quickly and easily ripped into shreds. Kay ducked into the forest, and the birds gave a long piercing cry and followed him in. Then it was silent and still.

Daniel took a breath and stood up. It was getting colder now that the sun was gone, although the sky was still bright. If there was anyone after him, he needed to make some headway into the forest before it got really dark.

And all the time, the words of Kay the Rider echoed in his ears: “I come from the Elves in Exile, who will one day return.”

CHAPTER SIX
Lights in the Dark

1

Before . . .

With a start that jerked him nearly upright, Daniel awoke. In less than a second, the details of his dream flew from his memory and he was left with just a vague impression of fear and of falling. He lay in the large bed a moment under the heavy covers. The mattress was hard but not uncomfortable, and the pillows soft and deep.

He rolled onto his back and looked up at the stone ceiling. It was carved in what was becoming his favorite style—with leaves and vines, branches and twigs, insects and small animals.
In an underground world, the only thing available is a lot of stone, and in hundreds of years, with little else except for that around them, they've become very good at using it
, he thought.

His gaze floated around the unfamiliar room and picked out odd features. His eyes became lost for long seconds as they wandered around the spiral pattern of the hanging carpets, before moving on to a stone alcove lined with sitting cushions, a brass stand holding a funny sort of clay lamp, a stone-topped metal table with a bronze basin and clay pitcher on it, and finally the wide fireplace with a long, hanging wrought-iron frame that held his drying school clothes. He felt slightly dizzy. He'd never slept in a room this big or nice before, so he made himself smile. He figured he was allowed to smile just to mark the occasion. He was wearing a white linen sleeping gown, which he had found folded on the table. It was loose and comfortable and warm. Too warm. His face was slick and clammy; he had been sweating in his sleep, either because of the thick bedding or the disturbing dream, or both. He pushed the sheets aside and stood up. A thin sheen of sweat made his skin cold as he padded over to the dressing table. He poured some water from the pitcher into the wide bowl and splashed a handful across his face. The freshness was bracing, and after drying himself with a thick linen cloth, he felt like he was wearing a new layer of skin.

Now feeling rather cold, he shuffled over to the fireplace and stretched out his hands expectantly, but after a moment or two he found that they were not warming as they ought. The fire was large and crackling, but squinting into it, he saw that it was not really burning. The flames that danced energetically around the logs and up the chimney were not healthy orange and red flames, but were pale and yellow, almost green in places, and appeared very thin. No smoke was given off, and he almost had to climb into the fireplace just to warm his palms.
Enchanted fire
, he thought with a frown.

He moved back to the table. Next to the bowl, where he had found the bedgown, some new clothes had been placed while he was asleep—his mind went back to his own house and the presents he never received. He shook out the first item and held up a dark-blue shirt, the type that the servants Cnafa and Cnapa wore.

He smiled. New clothes. He quickly shook out the other items, wondering how to put them on.

The thick shirt made Daniel think of a sewn-up bathrobe and was probably meant to be worn on top. It was made of a heavy, finely woven cloth—wool, maybe. It was rough on the outside, but lined with very smooth linen on the inside. It had large sleeves and was embroidered with blue on a darker blue floral design.

Beneath the shirt were some pale-blue leggings, a thin shirt, some leather slippers with laces, and a broad belt.

He pulled the thin undershirt over his head and then started hitching up the leggings—which he found had no opening in the feet, meaning that he needed no socks. He was able to fasten them with a thin drawstring that cinched just below his belly.

He shrugged on the thick blue overshirt, which reached halfway down his thighs, and fastened the leather belt around his waist.

Then he sat down on the edge of his bed to try to put on his shoes, which were more a kind of slipper. The soles were thin but tough.

There was a single, long leather lace that crisscrossed the top of the shoe, and once he tied them tightly around his feet they became, with the stockings, rather comfortable and snug.

He smoothed his new clothes down and straightened himself out as well as he could, not having a mirror. He walked around the room a couple times, wriggling his arms around, enjoying movement in this strange outfit—its crisp cleanness and smell. He liked how the clothes felt—tough, yet comfortable. He started running and then jumped up and down several times, laughing. He hoped he'd be allowed to keep them.

He wondered if Freya was awake and what her clothes were like. He pulled open the heavy door and stepped out into the hallway. Going towards her room, he ran into her halfway down the hallway, sitting in an alcove and staring out of one of the tall, thin windows. She was in her school clothes, which were dry but very wrinkled and dirty. She had one arm wrapped around her legs and one close to her chest. She was fingering the little pendant on her silver birthday necklace.

As Daniel approached she turned her head away from the window and looked him up and down.

“What are you wearing?” she asked, frowning.

“They laid these out for me. Didn't you get any?”

Freya's eyebrows pinched together as she studied Daniel. “Don't you want to go home?”

“Of course. What's that got to do with anything?”

“And you're going to go back dressed like that?”

“Why not?” He smoothed down the front of his shirt with his palm. “They're very warm, comfortable . . .”

Looking at Freya's expression, Daniel felt as if he were a bad essay that she was marking. “What?”

“Don't you miss your family?”

Daniel looked at the floor. His joy was slipping away, as if draining out of his feet.

“I mean,” pursued Freya, “we don't even know how long it will take us to get back.”

Daniel shrugged.

“Or even if we can get back,” exclaimed Freya, becoming agitated.

“So what if we never go back?” Daniel murmured. “What's so good about normal life anyway?” he said angrily. “This is a real adventure! It's better than ordinary life any day.”

“Better? Have you looked out there?” Freya said, jerking her head towards the window.

Daniel raised himself up on his toes. Outside the window, past his own reflection, he could see the streets and houses of Niðergeard, illuminated in the torchlight. Beyond the tree-carved wall lay the dirty campfires of the yfelgópes, stretching off into the distance like a flickering ocean of stars.

“There must be thousands of them out there,” Freya said quietly. “I've been watching for a long time. I can't see any of those . . . things, but if each one of those dots of light has even just three or four around it . . .” Her voice trailed off. “What if they all decide to attack us?”

Daniel sniffed. “Then we'll kill them. Just like we did in the tunnels.”

“We?” Freya echoed.

Daniel sucked at his top lip. “Anyway, we're safe here, with the walls and guards and everything,” he said defiantly.

“We don't know that,” Freya said. “We only think we're safe.

How do we know what those knights want to do with us? If they wanted us to be safe, why didn't they take us home? Why didn't we wait in the church until the doorway opened again? Who is this Modwyn? When do we meet Ealdstan? What's going on?”

Daniel said nothing.

Freya turned back to the window. “Look at those people wandering around below. Look at those buildings,” she continued, her voice rising. “How could something like this exist and nobody know about it? How could we not hear about it in school or on TV?”

“Well,” said Daniel after the shortest of pauses, “grown-ups don't know everything. They always pretend that they do, but haven't you ever gotten the feeling that . . . I don't know . . . that they don't really believe a lot of the explanations they have—that they're saying them as much to themselves as they are to us, to make them feel better? This place explains so much! Didn't you ever think that there must be another world underneath the real one?”

“No. Daniel, this is insane! This shouldn't be happening at all. Ancient knights and enchantments? That doesn't happen anymore, if it ever did happen! No one believes in it.”

“It's happening now, whether you want it to or—”

“So you're saying you believe in all of this?”

“What are you talking about? I can't choose what I believe, like you apparently can. Especially when it's actually happening to me.”

Freya frowned grimly and shook her head. “It's like a bad dream.”

“Yeah, but you can't stop a dream. You have to go along with it until you wake up.”

“What if you don't wake up?”

“Then you try to change it.”

Freya turned to look back out the window. “I just want to go back home where I know I'm safe,” she said. “I feel as though—it's like in
The Wizard of Oz
, you know? I feel like I've been ripped up by a tornado and I'm just spinning and spinning and still haven't really come down yet.”

Daniel picked at the hem of his shirt. “Anyway,” he said after a time, “let's go find Swiðgar and Ecgbryt, and then maybe this mysterious wizard Ealdstan. I can get a brain, you can get some courage, and then we can click our ruby slippers together and go home.”

Freya gave a broken laugh and sniffed. “Okay,” she said, sliding out of the alcove. They started to walk off down the corridor.

“So what did you get? Was it a dress or something?”

“Yes. A dark-red one.”

“Go put it on. I'll wait.”

“No.”

“Sure?”

“Yes.”

“Go on, I bet you'd look nice.”

“Be quiet.”

2

As Freya and Daniel started down the twisting staircase, a loud and lively clamor drifted up from below them.

“I hope they have food,” said Freya. “I'm starving.”

“I think they do. Do you smell that? Smells smoky. But nice.”

They reached the ground floor and looked around. The noise, a pleasant rise and fall of happy voices, was coming from a wide doorway under the opposite staircase. They walked through it and found stone tables and benches ranked down a long hall. The benches closest to the door were empty, but there was a cluster of people at the other end making a respectable racket. Ecgbryt was one of these and was the first to notice them. Standing, he raised a horn-shaped object above his head and hallooed them in a bellowing voice. “
Wes ðu hale
, young Daniel and fair Freya!” he called out.