Ross Lawhead (42 page)

It was certainly warmer—and rose silently. He shifted along the wall with stiff and aching limbs so that he was near the crack in the walls that he had entered by. He wrapped the fingers of his left hand around the wooden edge and gently pulled it wider. He stuck his right arm through and brought it up until he had dead aim on his target over a distance of about a meter. Practically point blank.

Daniel waited until Fiall had finished and turned his back, presenting a wider target. Daniel took a deep breath, paused for a heartbeat's time to make sure of his aim, and squeezed the trigger.

The gun exploded and kicked in his hand. Fiall twitched slightly and stood stunned. Daniel pulled the trigger three more times and the form slumped to the ground. He didn't know what it took to kill an elf, but he was pretty sure that the steel in the bullets would be toxic, if the wounds didn't kill him outright.

Daniel drew his sword and stuck it in the fabric of the tent.

He jerked it down to rip a hole from head to knee and started to climb through it.

There was a shout from behind him and he saw another figure in the doorway, slightly hunched over the body of Agrid Fiall. Daniel raised his gun once more, sent the remaining bullets towards the silhouette, and escaped into the night.

5

Freya used the smaller side roads to move her way farther up into North Oxford. It was a winding, snaking path, but one that she thought would be hard to follow. She was banking on the hope that Felix hadn't been able to get out of the house fast enough to see which direction she'd gone. And so, tired and exhausted, she staggered past houses and parked cars—as well as people who duly ignored her—towards the place she had last seen Daniel, at St. Michael and All Angels Church. But she couldn't go there yet.

She limped into Summertown—little more than a busy hotspot of shops and restaurants along Banbury Road and a complex maze of terraced housing. She found herself wearing her jacket when she left Stowe's apartment, and in her pockets she found her cell phone and small purse that she kept her money and bank cards in—they must have been on her all along. She couldn't turn on her phone; its battery was probably dead. She thought to go to her apartment, but was afraid that Stowe would find her there—or worse, on the way there. She knew that she should go to the police, but she didn't know what would become of Daniel then. She had to at least make an attempt to rescue him. Then she would go to the authorities. If it really had been days that she'd been trapped, then there'd be another panic. She may have already made the media again—missing for the second time would certainly have a headline appeal.

Her clothes were dirty and smelly and her hair was an absolute disaster. She hoped that she didn't look so alarming that she would get thrown out of anyplace. She dug around in her purse for a ten-pound note and held it clearly visible before her as she walked into a small café. She put the money on the counter in front of her and ordered a baguette, some fruit, a packet of crisps, a coffee, and a bottle of juice. She took this food to a small table from which she could see the street without being seen.

She devoured her food as calmly and as slowly as possible under the circumstances, and waited. She got up to use the toilet a couple times, cleaning herself up as much as she was able to in the small sink and mirror, always returning to her table and keeping an eye on the street and the sky. She spent enough money to stop the staff from moving her on, gradually nourishing herself. She may not have eaten anything in days. It was vitally important that she didn't collapse. She needed to keep it together just a little longer.

At six o'clock a cautious waitress came over and told her the café was closing. Freya left and wandered the back ways and parking lots of Summertown until the sun was just about to set. Then, with her heart rising in her chest, she went to the church.

She stood outside the lych-gate. This is where Daniel had disappeared—she could still see him taking that first step into oblivion. She stared at the wooden frame and doorway and wondered what she had to do next. She wanted to bring Daniel back, not follow after him—but could she do that? And how?

There was a new feeling growing in her chest. It wasn't anticipation or nervousness—it was more like a charge that she was getting from the air. Something was happening. There was some sort of a . . . presence was the only way to describe it. Was it danger? She looked up and down the street. She was completely alone.

But, turning back to the lych-gate, she noticed something odd—it was darker inside of it than outside. She tilted her head so that the sky was visible through it and saw that not only was it darker, but whereas her sky was cloudy and overcast, she could see stars through the lych-gate.

“Daniel!” she called into the archway.

There was no answer. The darkness seemed to thicken. She tried again.

“Daniel!”

It now looked like full night through the lych-gate. She could see the churchyard through it, but it was like looking through a veil. She saw a light—at first she thought it was a trick of her eyes, but the flickering glow bobbed and grew in front of her.

“Daniel?”

6

Racing behind Reizger Lokkich, Daniel struggled to keep up just behind the merchant's swinging lantern. How could such a short, rotund figure move so quickly? It was a concept that scared him—however fast it was, a full rank of elfish guards would undoubtedly be able to move quicker, especially if they were on horseback. Behind him he could hear shouts and calls of alarm. Would they be able to track him in the dark? He should probably assume so.

Lokkich climbed a hill that stood outside the edge of the Fayre. He rose effortlessly up its side like a windblown beach ball, while Daniel staggered and gasped beside him.

“Ho there,
whisht
!” Lokkich called in a harsh whisper, closing the shutter on his lamp.

A light appeared from behind a clump of trees—a torch that was held by a thin, gaunt-faced being that looked less than human or elfish. It didn't seem to have any striking features apart from its plainness. It was bald, with a rounded, formless brow and long, sagging jowls. It reminded Daniel more of the face of a dog.

“There you are, you wretched thing. Give me that,” Lokkich said, snatching the torch from its grasp. “Daniel,” he said, “give him the cloak.”

Daniel undid the clasp of the cloak that Lokkich had given him earlier and handed it over. When he looked up into its face again, he was so startled he let out a cry, quickly raising his own hand to muffle it.

“Shh!” Lokkich commanded, handing Daniel his own cloak and backpack back. “What's the matter? Do you want to make it so easy for them to find us?”

“I'm sorry, I just . . .” Daniel kept looking at the person in front of him. Its skin was no longer sagging; it was tightening, twitch by twitch, into features. It was making itself look like Daniel. A tuft of brown hair was even appearing on its head, and it seemed to be shrinking.

“That's enough, you,” Lokkich said, angrily striking the thing on its head. “You don't want to give the game away completely.

Take this again.” He thrust the torch back to the thing. “Go that way.” He pointed along the tree line. “Run. Your life depends on it. Now!”

It took off at a run, the blue cape and orange torch flames flapping behind it.

“What is it?” Daniel asked.

“It's a changeling. Vile member of a reprobate race. It has its purposes, though.”

“What happens if they catch it?”

Just at that moment, there was a shout from below. “A light!” they heard someone call.

“If they kill it, they'll do us a favor. Quickly, this way.” Lokkich hurried off again, with Daniel trying to keep pace behind him, deciding along the way that it would be a good idea to reload his handgun. After a while, Lokkich opened the shutter on his lantern again and slowed his pace.

“Are we going to get there in time? Is it too late?” Daniel asked, struggling for breath.

“We're here already,” the other answered. “Now, take these.”

A small bag was thrust into Daniel's hands. It contained the items from his own world that he had killed Fiall for—the videotape, phone charger, comic book, and some odds and ends like the newer coins and mechanical pencils that Daniel had picked out. Daniel made sure to check that they were all there.

“Watch your step,” Lokkich cautioned.

Daniel looked up and saw that they were standing on the top of a cliff. There was a large standing stone, about ten feet high, and then empty air—darkness.

The squat merchant put his hand out and moved it around, as if feeling the air. He muttered some words and the space in front of them started to . . . brighten. It was as if shadows of light were growing just above the cliff face.

“Daniel?” He heard Freya's voice call again, uncertain this time.

“This is it, just step through,” Lokkich said. “I can't thank you enough for what you did.”

“Wait, you want me to just walk off the cliff?”

“Yes, you must if you are to return.”

“This is the way back home that you weren't sure was going to work the first time?” he asked, looking over the edge of the cliff and estimating a forty-foot drop.

“Conditions are ideal right now. What is more, you are being called. Summoned, if you like. You can't ask for better than that. Please, do it quickly. I cannot do it for you.”

Daniel crept close to the cliff's edge. He was just about to take a deep breath to prepare himself for stepping out into certain death when a hand reached out of the darkness and grabbed him.

7

When the ghostly form of Daniel appeared within the lych-gate, Freya didn't hesitate. She leapt forward and grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled back with all of her strength. It was as if he solidified inside of her fingers. Suddenly she was falling backwards with him on top of her. They hit the ground together.

She lay, winded, looking up at the sky. Turning her head she saw Daniel, rolling gently onto his side. He saw her and smiled.

“You saved me,” he said.

Freya looked down. “What is it with you and clothes? You pick up something wherever you go. Where were you?”

“Elfland.”

“What, are you serious?”

“It's a long story. I came back as fast as I could. I thought you were in danger. I thought I needed to save you.”

“No, I managed pretty well on my own,” Freya said.

“Really? I'm sorry. How long was I gone? It was weeks to me.

More than a month.”

“Not too sure on that point. It may have been just a couple days.”

Daniel closed his eyes. Days. Only days. He rolled over and sat up. “Well, I'm not doing that again.”

“No, me neither.”

“Were you in trouble, really?”

Freya was just about to answer when a dark shape flew down from the sky and struck Daniel square in the chest. He went down, the black shadow—a human figure—on top of him. The attacking shape's face was bone-white and bald, its mouth full of sharp teeth. Luckily, Daniel had his arm up and under his attacker's jaw, or he would've had his throat already torn out. Slaver from those terrifying jaws was already dripping onto his collar. The thing's left hand was pinning Daniel's right, and its right was clutching at the side of Daniel's head.

Freya looked around for something heavy to hit the attacker with—a brick or a stick—but there was nothing in view.

“Fr'ya,” Daniel uttered, half-choked. “Sw'rd . . . l'ft side . . .”

Freya rushed over and saw Daniel's sword glimmering at his side. She reached for its hilt to draw it out, but the creature saw her. She felt its hand clutch her wrist as its face—disfigured and yet still perfectly recognisable—turned to her and snarled.

Freya didn't hesitate a second. She heaved with all her strength and pulled her arm away, still clutching the sword. She took a moment to find her balance once more, during which she saw the animal shift its weight towards her.

Then she heard five very sharp, tinny
bangs
. Something seemed to explode out of the thing's back, and she took another startled step backwards. It let out a death cry of “
Gah-ah-ahd!”
before keeling forward and falling on its face. It made no more movement under its own power.

Daniel shifted himself from underneath the corpse and together they rolled it over.

“So,” said Daniel. “It's him. I was wondering if I'd see him again.”

“You know him? It?” Freya said.

“I think so,” Daniel said, looking closer. “He had hair and not so many teeth when I last saw him, but that's the guy I was talking to in the church just before I disappeared. He gave me some sort of enchanted leaf, then sent me out after you. It was obviously a trap.”

“You carry a gun now?” Freya asked disdainfully. “I'm not sure I like that.”

“Weren't you glad that I had it now?”