The War of Odds (18 page)

The little female screwed her eyes up in a grimace. “We were paid a handsome price to guard these gates,” she gestured expansively. “One whole rainbow, as you can clearly see. What would you pay us to forget our previous orders?” The female’s brown eyes twinkled, and her red cheeks glowed with mischievous mirth. Clearly, honesty was not big on her “to do” list.

Rondel glared. “The gift of life. If you let us pass, we might let you live long enough to spin your rainbow into gold.” Pollo and Peat agreed vehemently, shaking their tiny fists at the smirking leprechauns.

The female was unimpressed by the elves threat, and shrugged. “How ‘bout that there horn in your belt?” The humans stared at the tiny arrows that were aimed at them by at least thirty leprechauns in the clearing. The darts were tiny, but looked deadly enough and had been dipped in the same green goo they saw earlier on the elves swords.

Rondel shook his head. “No, that horn is too valuable, as you well know.” Looking about, he saw the pack on Chloe’s back and the I-pod that swung uselessly from the pack’s drawstrings. He quickly untied the little device and held it up in the air. “How about this?” He smiled, enticingly.

Chloe exclaimed, “Hey, my mom gave that to me…” but shut her mouth quickly, as she saw the female’s eyes narrow with interest.

“What is that?” the female asked.

“This is a magical music box,” Rondel spoke softly. “With this magic box, you can hear all the sounds from the world of man, and you will know where every rainbow ends.”

Arrows forgotten, the tiny swarm gathered around Chloe’s I-Pod. Their eyes were huge with wonder, and Sara realized that they had just won safe passage into the Unseelie court.

“Wait! How do you make this box work?” the female hissed, suspiciously.

With remarkable presence of mind, Pollo reached out and touched the little machine with his stick. Suddenly, the ear-buds tinkled with music. It sounded like Green Day, and Sara covered her mouth to hide her grin. The leprechauns gasped, leaping backwards in fright and then crept forward again in fascination.

“Done, Elf,” the female cried and turned to her comrades. “Let’s take our prize and away quickly!” The leprechauns disappeared as fast as a wink. Sara and her friends stood alone now, facing the ornately carved iron fence.

Rondel and his sister walked up to the gate and gave it a slight push. It swung open with a screech of rusting metal, and the darkness seemed to waft over them with a chill. Unlike the troll’s stinking caves, though, a fragrance that was both repulsive and enticing rolled over them. Nate stepped toward the opening with his nostrils flared, and Rondel put his arm out.

“Stop, boy!” he ordered. Nate stopped, staring at the elf in alarm.

Rondel frowned and whispered, “Remember, all of you… Timaron uses the senses to dazzle and confuse. Do not trust your eyes and do not trust your nose. Even your sense of touch must be questioned in Unseelie. Whereas you might think you are stroking the softest fur imaginable, the reptile you are petting will turn and bite your hand off.”

Glaring sternly, the elf said, “I would have all of you stay close by my side, especially you humans. You are blind enough as it is in this world, the Unseelie will render you deaf, blind and dumb.”
 
Looking down at the sprites, he added, “Pollo, Peat keep an eye on these people.”

One of the dwarves, a stocky redhead named Pike, stepped forward. “Begging your pardon, elf, but my brother, Molter, and I would like to take the lead now, if you don’t mind.” The dwarf clutched his dirty, leather watch cap in both hands and stared up at them defiantly. “My brother and I know these parts well. We were born and raised not too far from here, after all. I even know which direction to take to reach the Unseelie court.”

Rondel nodded. “That is a fine idea, Pike.” Turning to Nate, he asked, “Nate, do you agree?”

Nate looked at the scruffy little dwarf whose tear tracks still marked the dirt and soot on his cheeks, and said, “Yes, thank you, Pike.”

Pike and Molter conferred for a moment, or two, and then glanced back once at the rest of the party as they stepped into the gloom. The smell was stronger now, heady and intoxicating. Nate found himself taking deep draughts of the scent that lay in swirling clouds in the air, like incense smoke. He received an elbow to his ribs for his trouble and glared at Rondel. “Ouch!” He mumbled.

Rondel replied, “The elixir you smell was designed to entice the unwary, Nate. Put your kerchief over your nose and mouth, please.” Staring back at William and the girls, he added, “You three, as well… cover your faces.”

The tunnels were high, wide and ribbed with tall, elaborately carved arches. Murals set high up on the walls were dirty now and covered with cobwebs, but spoke eloquently of times long gone, when heraldry thrived, and the Unseelie court held sway here in the underground world, as well as in the Seelie realm.

Now, though, the tunnel floors were littered with refuse, cold ash from the torches placed overhead, and the dried and desiccated bones of faeries and animals. Occasionally, Sara heard the sound of stealthy footsteps, and whispered laughter. She clutched her Weirding stick, swallowing back nervous tension.

This was a bad, bad place; she could feel it in her bones. What might have once been… the Unseelie way; the darker side of all thing magical; as essential to balance in all things as light is to darkness, and day is to night was gone now, overtaken and corrupted by the spirits of evil Timaron had unleashed onto his court.

There was a sickly green light reflecting off the tunnel walls, and Sara whispered, “How far do we have to go, now?”

Molter turned around and hissed, “Not far, lady, but be quiet please.”

Sara gulped, and took Chloe’s hand. The girls exchanged a glance and stepped forward as quietly as they could. Nate held his sword up high, and the two elves held their bows with arrows notched. Suddenly, the two dwarves ducked, placing their fingers over their mouths for silence. The company came to a stop. Peering into the murky gloom, Sara and Chloe tried to make sense of what lie hidden in the shadows ahead.

Stalactites and stalagmites grew from the tunnel floor and drooped from high overhead, but Sara saw something new off to the left-hand side of the path they followed. Long, slimy looking bags, like cocoons, hung from a shelf of rock. The bags swayed slightly in the air currents and a ghastly odor drifted their way. It smelled like something dead and rotten was contained within those rubbery sacks, and it was all Sara could do to keep from retching.

Pike ran up to the humans on tiptoe, and whispered, “This is very unusual, but giant bats have taken up residence here. We must be as quiet as mice and make our way past them. There are too many to fight!”

Rondel curled his lip in disgust, and eyed the cocoons appraisingly. “Very well, Pike. We will follow you…” he scowled at his human companions, “quietly.”

“Oh man,” William muttered and tried to stand on his own, but he was still very weak, and staggered slightly under his own weight.

Rowena shook her head and said, “Here, minstrel. Let me help you.” With those words, she stepped up next to the old man and swept him off his feet and into her arms. Sara gaped in shock. William was not a big man, but he was tall, probably more than six feet in height, and the elven woman had lifted him up as though he weighed no more than a feather!

Cautiously, the group moved forward. The dwarves held their swords up in readiness.
 
Nate and Rondel followed them, equally armed and ready for battle. The two sprite’s had decided to stay by the girls, and walked next to them with iron sword and stick raised in defense. Hiss tried to keep his aggression at bay, although every instinct he possessed told him to growl his fear and fury at the bats.

They stepped forward and even Sara was impressed by how quietly the group moved. The sounds in the deep tunnels grew louder as they proceeded. She could hear deep moaning, and distant screams of agony. Biting her lip with anxiety, Sara edged to her right away from the hanging bags, which seemed to undulate and twitch.

They moved close to one of the tunnel walls and William let out in involuntary gasp of pain as one of his feet brushed the stone. His eyes grew big as all of the sacks suddenly writhed, and began to fall open.

Long, black, skeletal claws flopped out of the bags, and huge rat-like faces with sharp up-turned noses, and tiny red eyes emerged. They were giant bats and their long serrated teeth were pointed like bloody daggers at least six inches long.

Rondel screamed, “Run!”

Chapter 20

They took off running as fast as they could. Rowena grunted as she ran with William in her arms, but she was forced to set him down on the ground and drag him as the mutant bats swarmed closer and closer to their rear flank.

Nate, Rondel, Pike and the pixies ran backwards, as best they could, while the girls moved ahead, but within seconds, Sara and Chloe heard the sound of naked steel, silver and iron drawn, as their friends engaged the bats. Not knowing where to go, and feeling the need to help, the girls stopped and turned around to watch the battle raging behind them.

It was hard to determine just how many bats there were. Their edges were blurry and indistinct. They flopped, and hissed and sometimes flew down from above, massing together like a spreading pool of oily shadow. The creature’s eyes were hideously clear, however, and glowed with otherworldly malevolence. The creatures carried no weapons, but wherever their black wings touched or their skeletal claws grasped, the recipients leapt back, howling with agony and revulsion.

Peat was the first to retreat. One of the bats managed to get past the sprite’s iron blade and touched the fierce little warrior’s right arm. Peat screamed, and fell behind his younger, frailer brother. The last thing Peat did, before falling over in a swoon was give Pollo a shove so he stood directly in front of the threatening monster. Pollo eyes got big as he stared up at the foul thing that loomed over him, red eyes gleaming with glee.

He held up his little stick and murmuring softly, held on tight as the twig glowed and jerked in his hand. A beautiful pinkish light shot out from the end of the stick and covered the creature from head to toe. An unearthly shriek filled the air, and the bat literally melted into a pool on the stone floor.

More monsters stood just behind their fallen comrade, however, and Pollo hurried to drag his older, bigger brother away from the threat. With a cry, Sara rushed to aid the sprites. She ran up, apologizing under her breath, bent down, picked both sprites up by an arm, and then retreated to relative safety.

Chloe, meanwhile, was trying to help William stand upright. Rowena had been forced to leave him and join the fight, but there were so many of the monsters now, the whole tunnel was filled with stinking, choking, darkness.
 
Chloe pushed and pulled, giving the minstrel just enough leverage to gain his footing. Then they hobbled back to where Sara fought for Peat’s life.

It was not lost on the young woman that Pollo’s bodyguard had tried to put his little brother in harm’s way, but she knew that a healer must remain objective. Peat may be a jerk, but it was her duty to save him, whether she liked him, or not.

Kneeling on the ground, Sara pointed her stick at the greasy, black wounds on the sprite’s arm. Peat’s face was as wan as curdled whey, and his hazel eyes stared up into nothing, as though his soul had already taken flight. She took a deep breath and prayed for the sprite’s recovery. Pollo stood by her side for a moment, watching. Tears ran from his eyes as he watched the girl labor over the brother who, for some reason, had tormented him since the day he was born.

Peat was the oldest of Pollo’s five brothers, the strongest and physically speaking, the most accomplished. Pollo had looked up to him, and in weaker moments, envied his brother, although his adoration was rebuffed. Pollo never understood why Peat hated him so, but now it did not matter. Peat was dying.

Although Sara prayed and wept, trying to absorb as much of the bat’s poisonous essence as she could, the sprite’s spirit fled. Even as her stick glowed red with effort, Peat’s skin turned black and his eyes started to glow like banked coals. She sat back on her heels, covering her face with her two hands, shaking with grief.