The Iron Knight (13 page)

The Wolf and I shared a look over the flames.

“I could eat him now,” he offered seriously. I bit down a smirk.

“Maybe later,” I said, and got up to rouse the others.

P
UCK WOKE EASILY
when I kicked him in the ribs, rolling upright with a wounded yelp, making the Wolf grin with appreciation. “Ow!” he snarled. “Dammit, ice-boy, why don’t you just stick a knife in my ribs and be done with it?”

“I’ve thought about it,” I replied, and knelt to wake Ariella, curled up on her cloak by the fire. Her knees were drawn up
to her chest, and she reminded me, always, of a sleeping cat. She stirred as I touched her shoulder, opening turquoise eyes to blink up at me sleepily.

“Time to go?” she murmured.

And, very suddenly, my breath caught. She looked vulnerable, lying there in the sand, her hair a silver curtain around her head. She looked slight and delicate and breakable, and I wanted to protect her. I wanted to pull her close and shield her from all the dangers in the world, and the realization made my stomach churn.

“Come on,” I said, offering a hand to help her up. Her fingers were soft as I drew her to her feet. “The all-knowing cait sith has returned, and we’ve been ordered to move out.”

That made her smile, as I’d hoped it would, and for half a heartbeat we stood there, gazing at each other in the sand, our faces a breath apart. Her fingers tightened on mine, and for a moment, it was like nothing had changed, that Ariella had never died, that we’d returned to a time when we were both happy, where there were no blood oaths between friends and no vow that stood between us.

But, yearning for the impossible didn’t make it so.

Guiltily, I pulled away, breaking eye contact, and Ariella dropped her hands, a shadow darkening her face. Without speaking, we followed Puck toward the raft, where Grimalkin already sat on the edge, thumping his tail with impatience. Behind us, the Wolf trailed silently, but I could feel his ancient, knowing gaze on my back.

Under Grimalkin’s impatient glare, we climbed aboard the raft, shoved off, and the current moved us out into the river once more. No one spoke, though I didn’t miss the cold, angry looks I was receiving from Puck, nor the subtle glances Ariella was shooting my way. I ignored them both, keeping my gaze straight ahead and my eyes trained on the river.

Not long after that, the River of Dreams picked up speed.
No longer sleepy and tranquil, it rushed along as if it were fleeing something, a dark and faceless terror that chased it through the night. The debris that floated in the water and knocked against the raft had taken on a macabre feel. Coffins bobbed to the surface, knives and plastic doll heads went spinning by, hockey masks and clown shoes thumped against the front of the boat.

“I don’t like the looks of this,” Puck mused, as I barely avoided a collision with a broken tombstone that lurched out of the water. It was the first thing he’d said for several miles, which I thought might be some sort of a record. “What happened to the flowers and butterflies and all the shiny, pretty dream stuff?”

“We’re nearing the nightmare stretch,” the Wolf rumbled ominously. “I told you. You’re not going to like what you see.”

“Freaking fantastic.” Puck shot him a look. “And, uh, does anyone else hear drums?”

“That isn’t funny, Puck,” Ariella chided, but at that moment an arrow thunked into one of the logs, causing everyone to jerk upright.

I looked to the riverbank. Small, pale things scurried through the bushes and undergrowth, keeping pace with the raft. I caught glimpses of round, red eyes, short, bulbous tails and dark cloaks, but it was difficult to see anything through the trees and shadows.

“Okay, natives definitely
not
friendly,” Puck mused, ducking as another arrow shot overhead. “Hey, cat, any idea what kind of nasties we’ve pissed off so royally?”

Grimalkin, of course, had vanished. More darts filled the air, lodging into the planks or flying past us into the water, some barely missing us. “Dammit,” Puck snarled, “we’re sitting ducks out here.”

With a snarl, the Wolf rose and launched himself, making
the raft spin wildly as he landed like a boulder in the river. Fighting the current, he struck powerfully for the shore, ignoring the debris that slammed into him, the water rushing over his body, failing to drag him down.

I smacked another arrow down with my sword and pulled glamour from the air, feeling it swirl around me. With a sharp gesture, I sent a flurry of ice darts into the bushes lining the riverbank. The shards ripped through the leaves, shredding them as they passed, and painful shrieks rose into the air.

Ariella stood, her bow in hand, pulling back the string. She didn’t have a quiver, but glamour shimmered around her, and a gleaming ice arrow formed between her fingers just as she released the string. It flew into the bushes with a thump, and a small, pale body tumbled out of the ferns into the river.

“Nice shot, Ari,” Puck crowed as the Wolf drew close to shore. The hail of arrows thinned, and the marauders shrieked as the Wolf dragged his dripping black form out of the water and shook vigorously. Yelping, they fled, scattering into the bushes, and the Wolf lunged after them with a roar. “Go get ‘em, Wolfman!” Puck cheered, as the attackers vanished into the trees. “Looks like he scared them off, whatever they were.”

I saw movement on the banks ahead and narrowed my eyes. “Don’t be too sure about that.”

Something small and pale like the other forms scrambled onto a rock jutting out over the water. Seen clearly, it looked like a squat, bipedal newt with slimy white skin and a froglike mouth full of teeth. Its beady eyes were filmy and blue, unlike the bright crimson of the others, and it wore a strange headdress on its naked skull.

Raising a staff in both claws, it started chanting.

“That can’t be good,” Puck muttered.

“Ari,” I called, ducking as another hail of darts flew at us
from the bush. The natives were definitely protecting their shaman. “Take him down now!”

Ari pulled back and released an arrow, a perfect shot that would’ve gone right through the shaman’s chest had another creature not leaped in front of him, taking the lethal blow itself. I flung a hail of shards at him, but several newt creatures sprang up and huddled around him, shrieking as the darts tore into them, but not moving. The chanting continued as the raft drifted by, taking us out of reach.

Around us, the water started to boil.

I drew my sword as a monstrous coil broke the surface of the river, black and shiny and thicker than my waist. Puck yelped, and Ariella cringed back. A huge head reared out of the water with a screech and an explosion of nightmare debris. Not a snake or a dragon; this monster had a round, lipless mouth lined with sharp teeth, built for sucking instead of biting. A giant lamprey, and where there was one, there were usually more.

“Puck!” I yelled, as the raft spun wildly and two more giant eels rose out of the water. “If we end up in the water, we’re dead! Don’t let them crush the boat!”

The first lamprey lunged at me, snaking in for an attack. I stood my ground and slashed upward with my blade, cutting through its fleshy maw. The lamprey screamed and reared back, mouth split in two, thrashing wildly. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ariella shoot an arrow right into the mouth of another eel, which convulsed fiercely and sank back into the depths. The third lunged for Puck, mouth gaping, but at the last moment Puck leaped aside, and the lamprey struck the boat instead, razor teeth sinking into the wood. It started to pull back, but not before Puck’s dagger flashed down, stabbing the top of its head.

Shrieking, the eel coiled its entire body around the raft, squeezing hard. The planks creaked and started to snap in
places as the mortally wounded lamprey clung to it with the strength of death. I spun and sliced through a coil, cutting it in two, but with a final snap, the raft splintered, flying outward in an explosion of wood and dumping me into the river.

The current caught me instantly, dragging me down. Still clutching my sword, I fought to the surface, calling out for Ariella and Puck. I could see the lamprey as it sank below the surface, coiled around the remains of the raft, but my companions were nowhere to be seen.

Something struck me in the back of the head. My vision went dark for a moment, and I fought to keep my head above water, knowing that if I lost consciousness now, I would die. Brief ly, I hoped Puck, Ariella and Grimalkin were all right; that they would survive, even if I did not.

Then the current pulled me under again, and the River of Dreams took me away.

I awoke on my stomach, my cheek pressed into something hard, river water soaking my clothes. There was a dull roar in my ears, which I quickly discovered was the river behind me. I listened for other things, for familiar voices and the rustle of movement, for a snide feline voice asking if I was finally awake, but there was nothing. It seemed I was alone.

Slowly, I pushed myself up, testing for sharp pain and broken bones, anything that seemed out of place. Though there was a gash across my forehead and a throbbing ache in my skull, nothing seemed seriously injured. I was lucky this time. I hoped the others were as fortunate.

My sword lay in the mud a few feet away. As I reached for it, I became aware that I was not alone after all.

“Good,” rumbled the Wolf, somewhere above me. “You’re still alive. It would be extremely annoying if I had to tell Mab I let her son drown while on this ridiculous quest. Dragging your carcass out of the river isn’t something I’d want to do again, prince. I hope it doesn’t become a habit.”

He was lying on the bank a few yards away, watching me with intense yellow-green eyes. As I pulled myself up, he
nodded approval and rose, his pelt still spiky and damp from his plunge into the water.

“Where are the others?” I asked, gazing around for their bodies. The Wolf snorted.

“Gone,” he said simply. “The river took them.”

I stared at him, letting the words sink in. Loss was nothing new to me. I’d shielded myself from the worst of the pain; not caring for anything ensured I wouldn’t miss it when it was gone. Attachments, as I’d learned, had no place in the Unseelie Court. But I could not believe that Puck and Ariella were gone.

“You didn’t try to help them?”

Shaking himself, the Wolf sneezed and looked back at me, unconcerned. “I had no interest in saving the others,” he said easily. “Even if I could have gotten to them in time, my only interest is keeping you alive. I warned them floating downstream was a bad idea. I suppose we’ll have to find another way to the End of the World.”

“No,” I said quietly, looking across the foaming river. “They’re not dead.”

The Wolf curled a lip. “You don’t know that, prince. You can’t be sure.”

“I’d know,” I insisted. Because if they were gone, I’d have no way to reach the Testing Grounds myself, no way to honor my vow to Meghan. If Puck was dead, my world would become as cold and lifeless as the darkest night in the Winter Court. And if I had let Ariella die a second time, it would’ve been better if the Wolf had left me to drown, because the pain would do more than crush me this time—it would kill me.

I let out a breath, raking a hand through my wet hair. “We’re going to find them,” I said, looking back down the river. The water roared and foamed, clawing angrily at the rocks, rushing by at a breakneck speed. The Wolf was right—

it was difficult to imagine anyone surviving that, once the raft had smashed apart, but Robin Goodfellow was an expert at survival, and I had to believe Ariella was safe with him. Grimalkin I wasn’t even worried about. “Believe what you will,” I continued, glancing at the Wolf, “but Goodfellow is still alive. He’s harder to kill than you might think … perhaps even harder to kill than you.”

“I very much doubt that.” But his voice was flat with resignation, and he huffed noisily, shaking his head. “Come on, then.” With a last show of teeth, the Wolf turned and started padding down the riverbank. “We waste time standing about here. If they survived, they will likely be farther downstream. However …” He paused and glanced back. “If we reach the Falls of Oblivion, you might as well give up. Nothing can survive that plunge. Not even me.”

He turned and continued loping along the riverbank, head lifted to the wind to pick up the scent of his prey. With one last look at the foaming River of Dreams, I followed.

F
OR AN INDEFINITE AMOUNT
of time, we walked along the riverbank, searching for any sign, any hint of Puck or Ariella. The Wolf loped tirelessly along with his muzzle pointed sometimes at the ground and sometimes at the sky, tasting the wind, while I searched the bank for footprints, broken twigs, overturned rocks, any sign of life.

Something near the edge of the water caught my eye, and I hurried over. A splintered length of wood lay trapped between two rocks at the water’s edge. It was part of the raft, bobbing limply in the waves, smashed almost beyond recognition. I stared at it for a moment, refusing to acknowledge what that could mean, and turned away to continue the search.

Farther downstream, the Wolf suddenly came to a stop.
Lowering his head, he sniffed around the rocks and mud, then straightened with a growl, baring his teeth.

I hurried over. “Did you find them?”

“No. But a great many creatures were here recently. Small things, very unpleasant smell. Slimy. Faintly reptilian.”

I remembered the pale, newtlike creatures, shooting at us down the riverbank. And their shaman, calling up river nightmares to crush the boat. “What are they?”

The Wolf shook his bushy head. “Hobyahs.”

“Hobyahs,” I repeated, recalling the tale of the small, unpleasant fey. “Hobyahs are extinct. At least, that’s what the stories claim.” Much like goblins or redcaps, the hobyahs were fierce, frightening creatures that lived in dark forests and menaced humans. Though apparently, there had been only one tribe of hobyahs, and they had met a grisly end. According to legend, the hobyahs had tried to kidnap a farmer and his wife and were eaten by the family dog in the end, so there were no more hobyahs in the world anymore.