The Lost Prince (16 page)

“Oh, Ethan.” Kenzie’s gaze was horrified and sympathetic, which was not what I was expecting. “I’m so sorry.”

“Forget it.” Embarrassed, I turned away, waving it off. “It’s just…I’ve never told anyone before, not even my parents. And being back here—” I gestured to the trees around us “—it’s making me remember everything I hated about this place, about Them. I swore I’d never come back. But, here I am and…” Exhaling, I kicked a rock into the undergrowth, making it rattle noisily. “And I managed to pull you in, as well.”

Just like Samantha.

“Humans.” Grimalkin appeared overhead, in the branches of a tree. “You are making too much noise, and this is not a safe place to do so. Unless you wish to attract the attention of every hungry creature in the area, I suggest attempting to continue on in silence.” He sniffed and regarded us without hope. “Give it your best shot at least, hmm?”

* * *

We walked for the rest of the afternoon. At least, I thought we did. It was hard to tell time in the endless gray twilight of the wyldwood. My watch had, of course, stopped, and our phones were dead, so we trailed Grimalkin as best we could for several hours as the eerie, dangerous land of the fey loomed all around us. Shadows moved among the trees, keeping just out of sight. Branches creaked, and footsteps shuffled through the leaves, though I never saw anything. Sometimes I thought I heard voices on the wind, singing or whispering my name.

The colors of the wyldwood were weird and unnatural; everything was gray and murky, but then we’d pass a single tree that was a vivid, poisonous green, or a bush with huge purple berries hanging from the branches. Except for a few curious piskies and one hopeful will-o’-the-wisp, I didn’t see any faeries, which made me relieved and nervous at the same time. It was like knowing a grizzly was stalking you through the woods, only you couldn’t see it. I knew They were out there. I didn’t know if I was happy that they were staying out of sight, or if I’d rather they try something now and get it over with.

“Careful through here,” Grimalkin cautioned. We picked our way through a patch of thick black briars with thorns as long as my hand, shiny and evil-looking. “Do not take your eyes from the path. Pay attention to what is happening at your feet.”

Bones hung in the branches and littered the ground at the base of the bushes, some tiny, some not. Kenzie shuddered whenever we passed one, clutching the key around her neck, but she followed the cat through the branches without a word.

Until a vine snaked around her ankle.

She pitched forward with a yelp, right toward a patch of nasty looking thorns. I caught her before she could impale herself on the spikes. She gasped and clung to my shirt while the offending vine slithered back into the undergrowth.

“You okay?” I asked. I could feel her shaking against me, her heart thudding against my ribs. It felt…good…to hold her like this. Her small body fit perfectly against mine.

With a start, I realized what I was doing and released her quickly, drawing back. Kenzie blinked, still trying to process what had happened, then glared down at the briar patch.

“It…the branch…it
tried
to trip me, didn’t it?” she said, sounding incredulous and indignant all at once. “Jeez, not even the plant life is friendly. What did I ever do to it?”

We stepped out of the briar patch, and I looked around for Grimalkin. He had vanished once more, and I stared hard into the trees, searching for him. “Here’s a hint,” I told Kenzie, narrowing my eyes as I peered into the undergrowth and shadows. “And it might save your life. Just assume that everything here—plant, animal, insect, toadstool, whatever—is out to get you.”

“Well, that’s not very friendly of them. They don’t even know me.”

“If you’re not going to take this seriously—”

“Ethan, I was just nearly impaled by a bloodthirsty killer bush! I think I’m taking this fairly well, considering.”

I glanced back at her. “Whatever. Just remember, nothing in the Nevernever is friendly to humans. Even if the fey appear friendly, they all have ulterior motives. Not even the cat is doing this for free. And if they can’t get what they want, they’ll take something anyway or try to kill you. You can’t trust the fey, ever. They’ll pretend to be your friend and stab you in the back when it’s most convenient, not because they’re mean, or spiteful or hateful, but because it’s their nature. It’s just how they are.”

“You must hate them a great deal,” Kenzie said softly.

I shrugged, abruptly self-conscious. “You haven’t seen what I have. It’s not without cause, trust me.” Speaking of which, Grimalkin still hadn’t appeared. “Where’s that stupid cat?” I muttered, starting to get nervous and a little mad. “If he’s gone off and left us—”

A branch rustled somewhere in the woods behind us. We both froze, and Kenzie looked over warily.

“That sounded a little too big for a cat…”

Another branch snapped, closer this time. Something was coming. Something big and fast.

“Humans!” Grimalkin’s voice echoed from nowhere, though the urgency in it was plain. “Run! Now!”

Kenzie jumped. I tensed, gripping my weapons. Before we could even think about moving, the bushes parted and a huge reptilian creature spilled out of the brambles into the open.

At first, I thought it was a giant snake, as the scaly green body was close to twenty feet long. But its head was more dragon than serpent, and two short, clawed forearms stuck out of its sides, just behind its shoulder blades. It raised its head, a pale, forked tongue flicking the air, before it reared up with a hiss, baring a mouthful of needlelike teeth.

Kenzie gasped, and I yanked her into the trees as the monster lunged, barely missing us. The snap of its jaws echoed horribly in my ears. We ran, weaving around trees, tearing through bramble and undergrowth, hearing the crashing of twigs and branches at our heels as it followed.

I dodged behind a thick trunk, pulling Kenzie behind me, and raised my sticks as the monster’s head slithered around, forked tongue tasting the air. When it turned, I brought the rattan down across its snout as hard as I could, striking the rubbery nose three times before the thing hissed and pulled back with blinding speed. As it drew away, I spotted a place where we could make our stand and yanked Kenzie toward it.

“What is that thing?” Kenzie cried as I pulled her into a cluster of trees, their trunks grown close together to form a protective cage around us. No sooner had I squeezed through than the monster’s head appeared between a crack, snapping narrow jaws at me. I whacked it across the head with my sticks, and it pulled back with a screech. I saw its scaly body through the circle of trees, coiling around us like a snake with a mouse, and fought to remain calm.

“Kenzie,” I panted, trying to track the thing’s head through the branches. My arms shook, and I focused on staying loose, holding my sticks in front of me. “Stay in the center as much as you can. Don’t go near the edge of the trees.”

The thing lunged again, snaking through the trunks, snapping at me. Thankfully, its body was just a bit too wide to maneuver at top speed, and I was able to dodge, cracking it in the skull as I did. Hissing, it pulled back, trying from a different, higher angle. I ducked, stabbing it in the throat, wishing I had a knife or a blade instead of wooden sticks. It gave an angry gurgle and backed out, eyeing me evilly through the trunks.

“Ethan!” Kenzie yelled, as the monster darted close again, “behind you!”

Before I could turn, a heavy coil snaked around my waist, slamming me back into a tree trunk, pinning me there. I struggled, cursing myself for focusing solely on the monster’s head instead of the whole creature. My right arm was pinned to my side; I raised my left as the head snaked through the trees and came at me again. Timing it carefully, I stabbed up with the tip, jamming it into a slitted yellow eye.

Screeching, the monster drew back. With a hiss, it tightened its coils around my chest, cutting off my air. I gasped for breath, punching the end of my rattan into the monster’s body, trying to struggle free. It only squeezed harder, making my ribs creak painfully. My lungs burned, and my vision began to go dark, a tunnel of hazy light that started to shrink. The creature’s head drifted closer; its tongue flicked out to brush my forehead, but I didn’t have the strength to raise my weapon.

And then, Kenzie stepped up and brought her iron key slashing down across the monster’s hurt eye.

Instantly, the coils loosened as the monster reared up, screaming this time. Gasping, I dropped to my knees as it writhed and thrashed, scraping the side of its face against the trunk, snapping branches and smashing into the trees. A flailing coil struck Kenzie, knocking her back several feet. I heard her gasp as she hit the ground, and tried to push myself upright, but the ground was still spinning and I sagged to my knees again.

Cursing, I struggled to get up, to put myself between Kenzie and the snake in case it turned on her. But the iron key to the face seemed to have killed its appetite for humans. With a final wail, the monster slithered off. I watched it vanish into the undergrowth, then sagged in relief.

“Are you all right?” Kenzie dropped beside me, placing a slender hand on my arm. I could feel it shaking. I nodded, still trying to suck air into my burning lungs, feeling as if they’d been crushed with a vise.

“I’m fine,” I rasped, pulling myself to my feet. Kenzie rose, dusting herself off, and I stared at her in growing astonishment. That thing had had me on the ropes, seconds away from being swallowed like a big mouse. If she hadn’t been there, I’d be dead right about now.

“Kenzie, I…” I hesitated, grateful, embarrassed and angry all at once. “Thanks.”

“Oh, no problem,” Kenzie replied with a shaky grin, though her voice trembled. “Always happy to help with any giant snake monster issues that pop up.”

I felt a weird pull somewhere in my stomach, and the sudden crazy urge to draw her close, to make sure we were both still alive. Uncomfortable, I retreated a step. “Sorry about your camera,” I muttered.

“Huh? Oh.” She held up the device, now very broken from the fall, and gave a dramatic sigh. “Well, it wasn’t working anyway. Besides…” She reached out and gently squeezed my arm. “I owed you one.”

My mouth was dry again. “I’ll replace it. Once we get back to the real world—”

“Don’t worry about it, tough guy.” Kenzie waved it off. “It’s just a camera. And I think surviving an attack by a giant snake monster was more important.”

“Lindwurm,” came a voice above our heads, and Grimalkin appeared in the branches, peering down at us. “That,” he stated imperiously, “was a lindwurm, and a rather young one at that. An adult would have given you considerably more trouble.” He flicked his tail and dropped to the ground, wrinkling his nose as he gazed at us. “There might be others around, as well, so I suggest we keep moving.”

I glared at the cat as we maneuvered through the trees again, wincing as my bruised ribs twinged. “You couldn’t have warned us any earlier?”

“I tried,” Grimalkin replied with a sniff. “But you were too busy discussing hostile vegetation and how faeries are completely untrustworthy. I practically had to yell to get your attention.” He glanced over his shoulder with a distinct I-told-you-so expression. “Next time, when I suggest you move silently through a dangerous part of the Nevernever, perhaps you will listen to me.”

“Huh,” Kenzie muttered, walking along beside me. “You know, if all cats are like him, I’m kinda glad they don’t talk.”

“That you know of, human,” Grimalkin returned mysteriously, and continued deeper into the wyldwood.

Chapter Twelve

The Border

“The Iron Realm is not far, now.”

I glanced up from where I sat on a fallen log, hot, sweaty and still sore from the recent battle. Kenzie slumped beside me, leaning against my shoulder, making it hard to concentrate on what the cat was saying. I didn’t mind the contact—she was exhausted and probably just as sore—but I wasn’t used to having anyone this close, touching me, and it was…distracting. I don’t know how long we’d been walking, but it felt like the hours were stretching out just for spite. The wyldwood never changed; it was still as dark, murky and endless as it had been when we started. I didn’t even know if we were walking in circles. Since fighting the lindwurm thing, I’d seen a wood sprite, several more piskies and a single goblin who might’ve given us trouble if he’d been with his pack. The short, warty fey had grinned evilly as it tried to block our path, but I’d drawn my weapons and Kenzie had stepped up beside me, glaring, and the goblin had suddenly decided it had other places to be. A will-o’-the-wisp had trailed us for several miles, trying to capture our attention so it could get us lost, but I’d told Kenzie to ignore the floating ball of light, and it eventually had given up.

I broke the last energy bar in half and handed the bigger part to Kenzie, who sat up and took it with a murmur of thanks. “How far?” I asked Grimalkin, biting into my half. The cat began grooming his tail, ignoring me. I resisted the urge to throw a rock at him.

I glanced at Kenzie. She sat hunched forward, her forearms resting on her knees, chewing methodically. There were circles under her eyes and a streak of mud across her cheek, but she hadn’t complained once through the entire march. In fact, she had been very quiet ever since the fight with the lindwurm.

She saw me looking and managed a tired smile, bumping her shoulder against mine. “So, we’re almost there, huh?” she said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I hope it’s less…woodsy than this place. Do you know much about it?”

“Unfortunately,” I muttered. Machina’s tower, the gremlins, the iron knights, the stark, blasted wasteland. I remembered it all as if it was yesterday. “It’s not as woodsy, but the Iron Realm isn’t pleasant, either. It’s where the Iron fey live.”

“See, that’s where I’m confused,” Kenzie said, shifting to face me. “Everything I researched said faeries are allergic to iron.” She held up the iron key. “That’s why this thing worked so well, right?”

“Yes,” I said. “And they are. At least, the normal faeries are. But the Iron fey are different. The fey—the entire Nevernever, actually—comes from us, from our dreams and imagination, as cheesy as that sounds. The traditional faeries are the ones you read about in the old myths—Shakespeare and the Grimm Brothers, for example. But, during the past hundred years or so, we’ve been…er…dreaming of other things. So, the Iron fey are a little more modern.”