The Drowned Tomb (The Changeling Series Book 2) (39 page)

“Gotta be a way in though. There’s always a way, somehow.”

Robin shook his head in confusion. She was chatting light-heartedly to him, as though there were not sworn enemies. He looked over to the tall Fae boy.

“What are you doing with her?” he demanded of Jackalope. “Whose side are you on, anyway? We thought you were with us.”

“I’m not on anyone’s side,” Jackalope sneered, unapologetic. “I’m on my own side. I had nothing but trouble when I met you misfits. I got a better offer from her.” He pointed at Peryl, who winked at him playfully.

“From her?” Henry said. “You do realise who ‘her’ is, don’t you? That’s a Grimm! The bad guys, remember? She’s one of the people who put your kind in camps and give you numbers instead of names.”

“Oh hush, you silly boy,” Peryl said. “I’ve never had anything to do with the camps at Dis. Frankly I couldn’t give a hoot either way. All this Fae-hate. It’s all incredibly boring. I stay out of all that. Some of my elders may take a very unhealthy interest in the persecution of the Fae, but don’t tar us all with the same brush, please.” She rolled her eyes. “Rude.”

“Rude?” Robin said. “You killed how many people in the human world, you and your brother, moving around towns, trying to find the Janus station?”

“Now be fair, Scion,” she said, holding up an admonishing finger. “Those were not Fae. They were only humans, for goodness sake. There’s no need to be so dramatic.”

“Only humans?” Henry said furiously.

“Why would I of all people hurt a Fae?” Peryl said, looking to Jackalope. “Well, beyond reasonable repair, I mean. I never break anything that’s useful. Leave that to Brother Ker. He likes breaking things. And anyway, don’t throw stones in glass houses.” She snorted in amusement. “It’s hardly like I’m the only killer in the room.”

Her hand went to her mouth, in an affectation of shock. “Oops, sorry, didn’t mean to let that slip.” She grinned wickedly. “But things do get so very dark in the camps of Dis, don’t they, dear-heart? The line between right and wrong is easy to miss when it’s scuffed in the dirt beneath your starving feet.”

Jackalope had paled.

“You can’t side with her, Jack,” Robin said. “You just can’t. She’s more trouble than we are, believe me.”

“I told you,” Jackalope said. “I’m on my side, no one else’s.” He looked frustrated. “All I wanted was to be left alone, but you all dragged me back into your war. There was no treasure at the Undine’s tree. Nothing that was any use to me anyway.” He pointed to Peryl. “She promised me
actual
reward. Something I can use. To get away from the war, to come here, to the human world with her, and with treasure enough for me to disappear forever.”

“That’s all he wants,” Peryl said. “Just to disappear. To be left alone. Completely reasonable. You leave the poor boy alone, you two troublemakers. I just need his help with one teeny-tiny thing first, and then the treasure of the tomb is all his.” She smiled at the scowling Fae. “Rubies galore.”

Robin took a step toward them, watching the portal of spinning ice churn noisily at their backs. “Jack, there are no rubies! Or diamonds, or gold. Look … we don’t care what you did in the past, whatever it was – now is not the time. But I guarantee, she is just using you.”

“Of course she is,” Jackalope shrugged. “Do you really think I’m stupid? So what if she is? I’m using her too. Once I get what I want, I’m gone. Away from you, away from the Grimms. Away from the Netherworlde.”

“You really do only care about yourself, don’t you?” Henry said, annoyed. “You’re a piece of work you are.” He nodded to Peryl. “And you, Miss a Few Marbles Short, how did you get into Hiernarbos in the first place?”

“I came in with you lovely chaps, obviously,” she said. She raised both hands, darkness suddenly crackling between her fingertips. Both boys had been advancing across the chamber as they spoke, but now they stopped dead in their tracks. Her mouth split in a grin.

“Good boys. That’s quite far enough, thanks. No need to get all up in my personal bubble. Unless, of course, you want me to throw you around the room again? Might not end so well this time around if we play rough. I’m not sure how strong these pretty crystal walls are. Might let the lake in if we crack them.”

She twitched her fingers, thin black snakes of shadow dancing over her pale hands and dark nails. “Want to find out?”

“How did you get in with us?” Robin said, trying to distract her. He was fairly certain that Miss Peryl was unstable in more ways than one. He wouldn’t put it past her not to smash the walls and bring the freezing lake water crashing down on all of them, just for kicks.

She tilted her head to her shoulder, the long purple sweep of her hair falling over one jet black eye.

“Oh, it was easy,” she said merrily. “Glamour. Quite an advanced one too. I was very pleased with myself. When you were making fools out of my brother and scary old Strigoi back at the barrier, I was there too. I disguised myself as a moth. I rode it on Jackalope here, hidden in those lovely wolf pelts at the back of his neck, and then I hid and waited.”

“You can turn into a moth?” Henry gaped.

“No, not really … duh,” she said. “A glamour, like I said. But very effective if you’re good enough to pull one off. It’s the most advanced kind there is. Hard when the person you have to convince of a lie is yourself, but I could think my way around a corkscrew if I had too. So I shrunk myself down into one of my own shadow moths, no bigger than a pepper pot, quite adorable, and rode the Jackalope train to the pale tree. None of you noticed. I’m surprised you didn’t hear me giggling.”

“Glamours are from the Tower of Light,” Robin challenged. “You’re a Grimm, your power lies in darkness. I know your brother Moros was good at them, but he had the knife, the ingredients. I didn’t know it ran in the family.”

She shot him a withering look, as though he was the dimmest creature on the planet.

“Well, well, look who thinks he knows so much,” she said. “Light and dark. Do you honestly think they’re two separate things, numbskull? You can’t have one without the other. It’s two sides of the same coin, and one I’m extraordinarily good at spinning.”

“You’ve certainly flipped,” Henry said.

She pointed at the swirling circle of sharp ice. “I want what’s in there, Scion of the Arcania. I want it more that Ker, who never had an original thought in his dumb head. He’d walk off a cliff if Eris told him to. I want it more than Strife; he has his own ideas. I imagine he’s already busy looking for your little golden-eyed friend at the pale tree. Pray he doesn’t find her before I get my Shard.”

The Grimm stroked Jackalope’s arm in a friendly way, making the Fae flinch away, glowering at her. “Tall and pouty here, though?” she went on. “He’s my meal ticket. I will be the toast of Dis. No more the runt of the litter. I will claim my rightful place when I bring the Empress her Shard. Everybody wins.”

She turned and indicated the wall of ice in motion. “But our immediate problem, boy and Fae, is this doozy of a booby trap. We all want to get through it and you don’t have the luxury of time to fight me. Every moment you spend here arguing with me, my brothers and their army are tearing your magical valley of twinkle-dust to shreds.” She stroked her chin. “I wonder if all your friends are dead yet? Might still be time to save them, maybe.” She looked back at them over her shoulder. “Trust me, I wouldn’t want to be your little blue friend when Brother Ker gets his hands on him. He doesn’t like being made a fool of. He’s going to crush your little faun like a squishy blueberry, believe me.”

Robin knew she was right. There was no time left. In his imagination, he saw Hiernarbos burning, saw the countless hordes of Undine at the mercy of the mindless Peacekeepers, and the ghasts of Strife and Ker looming like shadows over his trapped friends.

“I don’t know how to get past this,” Robin said. “No more than you do.”

“Well, we better think of something, blondie.” Peril sighed in a put upon way. “I have no affinity for ice or water. I’m out of ideas.”

Something clicked in Robin’s mind.

“Wait,” he said.

Peryl, Jackalope, and Henry all looked at him expectantly. It had been the Grimm’s words. Affinity with ice and water.

“I think … I think I can pass through it,” Robin said. He looked over to Henry. “You too.”

His friend stared wide-eyed. “Robin, that’s a garbage disposal made of whirring icy death. The only way anyone is passing through it is as a pulp!”

Robin stared back at the sea of churning ice, frowning. Its endless spikes and blades glittered and whirled at him challengingly. “No,” he shook his head. “I’m sure.”

He started to walk towards it.

“You’re sure? What does that mean?” Henry said desperately. “I’m pretty sure you’ll be torn to shreds if you try!

“I’m sure,” Robin insisted, as both Peryl and Jackalope stood aside to let him pass. He shrugged a little. “Well … I’m pretty sure I’m sure anyway.”

“That’s not reassuring!” Henry said.

Robin looked back at him. The circular maelstrom of icy shards was so close now he could feel a slight wind rushing off them against his face. It was like leaning into an upturned lawnmower.

“Karya and Woad are waiting for us, Henry,” he said. “You wouldn’t abandon me, and I won’t abandon them.”

He turned his back on the three of them and closed his eyes. His heart was pounding against his chest, making his mana stone shift. If he was wrong, this was going to be very painful and extremely messy. But Calypso as had told him, emotion is the key to water. She had told him to find his guts. He had to trust them. His gut instinct told him to believe this would work.

Robin braced, held his breath, and stepped forward into the ice storm.

He had expected to be sliced to ribbons, if he was honest. He had hoped, but hope was a small creature sometimes, and fear could roar so much louder. It was harder to hear hope. He had to listen for it though, to block out every other voice and just trust its whisper.

The ice whirled around, and through him. Not piercing or slicing his flesh, but passing through him as dust passes through sunbeams. He felt like a ghost, walking forward as the blades of ice roared around and through his limbs and torso, as painless and soft as breezes. It was like walking through a cloud of silver butterflies, brushing his skin softly with their wings.

Robin opened his eyes, and stepped beyond the barrier, into the tomb of the Undine, Tritea.

It was beautiful.

Ice covered everything, hanging from the ornate ceiling of the long gallery in countless shimmering stalactites, crusting the surfaces of the tall, slim pillars and walls in fernlike patterns of whirling frost. The floor was a shining mirror of ice. Long windows ran along either side, arched and glowing with shifting light from the lake water just beyond. At the far end of the gallery, on a raised step, there lay two sarcophagi. Side by side, almost, but not quite touching.

Nightshade
, Robin thought,
and Tritea. I’ve found you at last.

The hushed air itself glittered with ice crystals, lending the tomb a strange dreamlike feeling. Robin stood in wonder and reverence, taking in the solemn silent beauty of it all.

A noise from behind made him turn.

The barrier of ice had melted away. Evidently, his action had deactivated whatever charm had held it in place. Henry, Peryl, and Jackalope entered tentatively, staring around.

“You,” Henry said breathlessly to Robin, “are the most mental hornless wonder I ever met.”

Robin smiled. “Black kraken bile,” he said. “Worth every lingering moment of grossness.”

Peryl has stalked past them, ignoring both Robin and Henry as though they didn’t exist, dragging Jackalope along in her wake and heading for the sarcophagi.

“Here, it’s here. I’ve found it!” she cried joyfully.

Robin and Henry slipped hurriedly after them across the frozen floor.

“The tomb of the Undine at last,” Peryl said with relish. She looked as giddy as a young girl who couldn’t wait to open her birthday presents. She pointed her finger between the two ornate coffins.

“Let’s see now. Eeny, meeny, miney, mo … catch an Undine by the toe…” She chose one at random and flicked her hand. There was a roar and screech of ice, and the heavy lid was ripped off, tossed into the air and cast carelessly aside. It clattered down the steps and hit the floor heavily, smashing the sheeny ice into a white and intricate spider web. Robin flinched at the desecration.

“And behind door number one,” she said in a sing-song voice, leaning over with interest, the palms of her hands resting on her thighs as she peered within.

Robin saw that it contained the skeletal remains of what was clearly a man, judging by the dusty dark suit he had been buried in. If Tritea and Nightshade had lived out their days in this village, under glamours to appear as simple humans, the quiet and reclusive Mr and Mrs Paxton, then clearly any such magic had died with them. The skeletal corpse had horns, curling close to his head like barley sugar twists of bone, two on each side on his head. Robin peered down at the remains of Nightshade, great and trusted member of the Sidhe-Nobilitas, a one-time friend of his father. In his bony hands, he ceremoniously clutched a box to his chest. It was black and unadorned, roughly the size of a breadbox. The only marking on it was a paper seal, pressed with dark wax.