Keys and Curses (Shadow Book 2) (37 page)

“Over?” Nikifor echoed. “What do you mean, over?”

Clockwork gave him a closer look. “You know, over. When the king’s dead and honest fairies can be left to live in peace and all that. That’s your job now.”

“My job?” Nikifor dug his nails into his palms. He felt ill, oppressed, overwhelmed by the task the Freakin Fairy described.

“Or you could let the king destroy Shadow and Dream. Your call, mate, but either way there’s a war coming.” Clockwork shrugged. “We’re going by Quicksilver Village if you want to come along. I presume you still want that curse lifted.”

Quicksilver Village was on his way.

Nikifor and Clockwork carried Fitz on a stretcher between them. After this stop they would take him home to his clan for burial.

The Silvers were an enigma to Nikifor. They’d barely stopped in their village, hardly looked around. They couldn’t stand to spend even a moment in their ancestral home.

“Bad things happened here mate,” was the only explanation Clockwork offered.

Bad things had happened in Quicksilver Village too.

Nikifor wasn’t surprised to find the neat little collection of houses he and Flower had left behind battered by some long-cold battle. Thatch hung off the rooves. Fireplaces were kicked in. In some places whole walls were missing, the edges of what remained blackened and burned.

But the village wasn’t empty: the central fire still burned under the huge cooking pot. Tick Tick and Tock Tock flanked it, each of them guarding over the bent, greying figure who stayed close to the warmth of the flames.

Coalfire Quicksilver uncurled himself and stretched to his full height of just over four foot when the Silver clan entered the village. He watched their passage silently and only spoke when Nikifor and Clockwork laid down their burden.

“So you succeeded, Muse.” His voice had lost the spark Nikifor remembered. “Where’s your lady friend?”

“She went to visit the king, Uncle,” Clockwork said.

Nikifor flinched.

“She’ll be dead then.” Coalfire glanced over the assembled fairies, then back to Nikifor. “Moon Troopers came back after you left. They shut down the mine and took everyone but me. Tick Tick and Tock Tock came back. Strike Pin too, but he’s gone to look for the others. You’re too late, Muse.” His voice broke and he sat down.

Nikifor looked at his feet. His vision blurred from the tears that worked their way from his eyes. It was all for nothing. How the Tormentor would laugh at him now. For every fairy he rescued, a thousand more were missing or vampire food. He’d made no difference. None at all.

“Give him a break, Uncle,” Clockwork said. “He did what you asked. If it wasn’t for him my whole clan would be dead or enslaved still.”

Coalfire turned a jaded look on him. “Who are you to speak to me, Clockwork Silver? You left a long time ago, just like your no-good father, running away to Dream and leaving us to deal with the troubles!”

Clockwork’s teeth went on edge.

Nikifor laid a calming hand on the fairy’s shoulder, but when Coalfire viewed the gesture with a frown of deep suspicion, he moved his hand away. “You pledged to lift the curse you laid on me if I completed this task,” he said. “I did as you asked.”

Coalfire’s eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. “No.”

“No?”

“Can’t be done.”

“But you promised!” Nikifor’s voice rose. The curse thundered its way up to make him say something loud and stupid.

Coalfire snickered. “I believe I said I’d lift the curse if you took the Silvers back to their village. Maybe. But you’ve brought them to mine, and I’m not in the mood.” He thumped his stick on the ground. “Don’t worry son. It’ll fade over the next ten or fifteen years anyway, and what’s that to a muse?”

There was no point in spending even another second in this kind of company. Nikifor clamped his mouth shut over the words trying to force themselves out. He picked up Fitz in his arms, turned his back and walked away.

Clockwork followed. “Where are you going?”

The teeth clenching failed. “Anywhere I don’t have to look at black-souled Freakin Fairies!” Nikifor exploded.

Clockwork’s face shut down.

“I’m sorry.” Nikifor took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean it, that was the curse. I’m taking Fitz home.”

“And then?”

“Then I’m going to find Flower.”

Clockwork shook his head. “Anyone else would’ve given up on her by now.”

“I will never give up on my friend.”

“I need to take everyone else back to Dream. But you know where to find me if you need me, or if you need to relocate someone.”

Nikifor halted his rapid stride and swung around to face Clockwork. “How? How will you return, when Fitz is dead?”

Clockwork avoided looking at the shrouded body in Nikifor’s arms. “I can open a door anywhere. So can anyone who’s crossed the worlds. We just don’t advertise the fact, and neither should you. Just be careful where you open a door, in case you come out somewhere you shouldn’t.”

“So where will you go through?”

“Somewhere near the Ishtar village, to be safe. If you’ll just wait, we can travel together.”

“I’ll make better time on my own. Goodbye, Clockwork Silver.” Nikifor walked away, his stride rapid, his back straight. He felt Clockwork’s eyes on his back until the forest swallowed them both.

Nikifor’s rapid pace ate up the miles between Quicksilver and Green Dragon Forests, that darker, wilder place where Fitz’s tribe lived. He walked through the night and the next morning, never stopping, never slowing. The sun was high overhead when he strode unhesitating into Green Dragon forest.

A mossy rabbit trail tracked and twisted through high tree ferns and rambling creepers with bulbous pale leaves. Tiny creatures scrambled away at his approach. A centipede the size of his hand lurked on a half-rotted tree stump and watched him pass.

Nikifor made all the noise he could manage, from cracking twigs to saying bad words every time he stumbled under Fitz’s weight. He’d never been this far into Green Dragon territory before–at least not that he remembered–but he was sure they’d find him.

The forest closed around him like a dark, cool cave. The trees thickened. Sunlight only pierced the canopy in thin, dusty spears of light. He’d been walking for an hour when they surrounded him.

Tall, hooved, dressed in roughly stitched leather and leaves and armed with bows and axes, each and every forest person pointed something sharp in his direction.

An elderly man with long, flowing white hair and spiral tattoos on his bare chest barred the way. “Explain your intrusion, Muse.”

Nikifor gently laid his burden on the path between them. “This man was my friend and mentor and a hero of Shadow,” he said. “All he desired before he died at the hands of a false muse was to return home.”

The weapons lowered a fraction. The old man approached the body and lifted aside the shroud. He looked down, his face grave, then replaced it. When he looked back at Nikifor a single tear trembled, but did not fall from his eye. “That my brother should return home in such a way,” he said. “We are grateful.” He motioned to two of his companions, who lifted Fitz and set off down the path. The rest followed them.

That was it then. His task done. He was free to find Flower. The knowledge settled inside him, as empty and hollow as a drum. What he wouldn’t have given for Fitz’s counsel now.

Nikifor turned back. He wanted nothing more than to leave, but a young man and woman were in the path. The woman had blonde curls flowing over her shoulders and the hard look of a warrior. The man looked like a much, much younger version of Fitz.

“Who was that?” asked the man.

“Fitz Falls.” Nikifor regarded him steadily. “A hero.”

The man’s eyes widened a little. “And who are you?”

Nikifor looked for one more moment at that young, fresh face and couldn’t stand the thought of it being scarred by time and trauma, or of the eyes being as dead as Fitz’s. This boy could only be Fitz’s nephew Pan, but Nikifor could not stand to keep a promise that would end in the boy’s death. “I am the Invisible Army.” He walked through them.

“Nice axe,” the girl said.

Nikifor paused, unhooked the axe from his back and handed it to her. Then he turned his back on them and walked from the forest.

A tinge of smoke on the air made him stop in his tracks near the edge of the trees. He’d curved around to head for the road that would take him back to the Arch, the place of his nightmares, each step heavier than the last; but when Shazza burst out of thin air in front of him he leaped for her. “You!”

“Yeah me!” She vanished and reappeared out of his reach. “What’s up your nostril?”

“Why aren’t you dead like the others?” He stayed where he was, poised to strike at her again.

“Flower saved me.”

They stared at each other. Nikifor noted the lines on her face, the downward set of her mouth, the fleeting glimpse of a scarred soul in her eyes. “Where is Flower? Is she safe?”

Shazza slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry Nikifor. She’s gone.”

“Dead?”

A shrug. “I dunno. Gone, like the other muses. I couldn’t save her, but she saved me, like I told you. She gave me her key so the king couldn’t kill me.”

Nikifor sank to the ground and buried his face in his hands. The despair that had gripped his ribs and eaten away at his heart when Fitz died tightened its grip. “I tried so hard.”

“I know.” Shazza edged closer. She patted him awkwardly on the head. “I saved Pinky.”

He looked up at her. “Who’s Pinky?”

“You know, Mudface. Calls herself Pinky since she got cursed. She kind of doesn’t remember anything though. You won’t even recognise her. But I promised Flower I’d get her back to you so you could take her somewhere safe.”

“Where is she?”

Shazza looked relieved. “Not far down the road. We’ll meet up with you soon.” She disappeared.