Realm of Mirrors (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 3) (13 page)

But this cave was no rock-strewn mountain crevice. We’d reached the Trees of Ankou—towering, leafless giants with silver-gray bark and elevated root systems. Most of the roots were as big around as a normal tree back home, and the spider-like sprawl of them formed hollows beneath the main trunks. The tree-cave we’d claimed was eight feet high, easy, and twice as long and wide. It was cool and dry, and the soft ground was fairly comfortable.

Which was probably a good thing, because it seemed like we’d be here longer than we wanted to.

“Anybody else get the idea this isn’t working?” I said. With the eternal moon and all, I’d pretty much lost all sense of time. But I knew we’d been here thinking about our need to speak with Nyantha long enough for my boots to dry. So, multiple hours.

Sadie sat against one of the wide roots toward the back of the cave, hugging her knees to her chest. “I don’t know, but I’m starving,” she said.

“I suppose we should eat.” Uriskel, who’d taken a post beside the only gap in the roots wide enough for us to squeeze into, looked through the opening into the murky light beyond. “It may be some time yet, though. I’ve not hunted these woods before, so I’m not familiar with the best areas to find game.”

Oh, good. Hunting. I sighed and got up from the ground, hoping maybe it wouldn’t be so bad now. At least I didn’t have anyone waiting to beat me down for the slightest mistake—though I assumed Uriskel would have plenty of sarcastic remarks. “All right,” I said. “What are we hunting?”

“
You
are hunting nothing,” Uriskel said as he separated the bow and arrows from his pack. “Stay here. I’ll return as soon as possible.”

“Bullshit. I’m going with you.”

“No, you are not.” He stared coldly at me. “You know nothing of this place, its creatures, or the terrain. You’ll only get in my way.”

Okay, this you’re-an-idiot attitude was really starting to bother me. “You’re right. I don’t know a damned thing about Arcadia,” I said. “But I know hunting. If it’s an animal, I can track it, bait it, flush it—everything but take it down, because I’m a lousy shot. So I hope you’re not.”

He subjected me to one of those long, appraising looks. At last he said, “Fine. But you’d best keep up, because I’ll not restrain myself to your pace.”

“Oh, I’ll keep up.” I heaved a breath and approached Sadie. Her mood had declined steadily while we trudged through the swamps, and she’d been mostly distant and detached for a while now. I was worried she’d already given up hope. “Hey,” I said quietly, and waited until she looked at me. “Would you mind waiting here, in case this Nyantha person shows up?”

“Whatever,” she murmured. “Just bring food.”

I thought about trying to reassure her that we’d get them back, but that would probably make it worse. Besides, it was hard to sound convincing when I didn’t quite believe it myself. “We’ll find something,” I said. “Be back soon.”

She nodded and rested her head on her knees.

Trying to ignore the tight feeling in my chest, I went back to Uriskel. “So, let me ask again,” I said. “What are we hunting?”

“The
fián’tormihr
.” He flashed an unpleasant smile. “They’re similar to your wild boar, I suppose. Though they are larger and stronger, with more tusks, a bone-plated head, and poisoned bristles. Quite the badly-tempered, lethal beast.”

“Great. Is there anything in Arcadia that won’t try to kill us?”

“You’re probably safe from the trees,” he said. “Come on, then. Let’s hunt.”

If it wasn’t this or starve, I might’ve changed my mind about going with him.

Once I got past the strange light and the sheer size of things around here, it was easy enough to track. It just wasn’t all that comforting. Regular wild boars were big and mean enough…but the signs confirmed this whatever-it-was
would prove worse.

Maybe we could pick off a little sick one or something.

“And this is what, now?” Uriskel said. He’d fallen in behind me with a sort of reserved amusement, like he was just waiting to rub it in when this turned out to be a wild goose chase. But I’d already spotted quite a few signs of activity. It made sense that a boar-like creature would live in this area—swampy atmosphere, dense ground cover, plenty of vegetation. A wilderness that was rarely disturbed.

Just the kind of place I’d spent half my life praying to escape.

I gestured at the wide swath of packed ground we were following. “Highway trail,” I said. “Boars tend to use the same main path. It’ll branch off here and there, lead to rooting spots or hog wallows. That’s where we’ll find them.”

“And you can locate these…branches.”

“Yeah, I can.” Matter of fact, it looked like there was one just ahead. I slowed and veered to the left, crouching at the base of a tree with several gashes in the trunk, three to four feet from the ground. “Tusk marks,” I said, patting the gashes as I fished a loose stick out of the nearby underbrush. “And this is scat.”

Damned big scat
, I added silently, and poked the stick at the dark brown, fist-sized lumps on the ground. They crumbled apart, revealing small bones, bits of fur, and clumps of disturbingly human-looking hair compacted into the waste.

I didn’t want to know what—or who—the hair had belonged to.

“It’s fresh,” I said. “This way.”

Uriskel raised an eyebrow, but he followed me without a word.

The smaller path grew progressively muddier, the ground to either side churned or flat-out torn up in some spots. Definitely rooting activity. In firmer places, I spotted the occasional cloven hoof print, half again as big as the biggest I’d seen before.

If we caught the thing, at least we’d have plenty of meat.

It wasn’t long before the path emptied ahead into a sizeable clearing. I stopped just before the open area and held a hand up, telling Uriskel to wait. Then I crept closer and looked around. There was a large, round depression in the damp ground to the right, ringed with displaced dirt—a hog wallow. A few smaller trees near the wallow were smooth and caked with mud around the lower three feet or so, where the animal had frequently rubbed its tusks.

Toward the back of the clearing, something rustled softly in the underbrush. I stared at the spot until I made out glimpses of ivory between the dulled brown tangles. Then I could follow the vague shape of the thing humped in the weeds and probably watching us just as carefully.

It was distressingly big.

“There,” I whispered. “You see it?”

Uriskel looked. His eyes widened the smallest bit. “Aye,” he said in a low voice, and cocked his head slightly. “You’ve a plan to draw it out, then?”

“More or less.” This’d never been my favorite part of the “family” hunt. They wouldn’t let me touch the guns, or anything that resembled a weapon—but they sure as hell didn’t hesitate to use me as bait. “I’ll get it to charge me, and you stay out of sight and kill it,” I said. “Er. How fast do you think you can take it out?”

“The hide of the
fián’tormihr
is quite thick,” he said. “Likely, I’ll need at least two clean shots to fell the beast. Perhaps three.”

I sighed. “Terrific. Well, whenever you’re ready.”

“Are you not afraid?”

“Nah, not really. Just…resigned,” I said. “Animals don’t scare me. People do.”

A strange expression came over his face. “Very well.” He loosened his bow from his back and faded into the cover alongside the path. “Ready when you are,” he called softly.

I nodded, let out a breath, and walked into the clearing.

For the most part, wild boars had no interest in people. If there was one around, they’d try to stay hidden as long as possible, until the person was practically on top of them. They’d only charge if you crowded their space.

But apparently this one considered the entire clearing its space—because I hadn’t gotten halfway across before a living, breathing nightmare burst from the underbrush with a screeching roar.

It was four-legged and vaguely boar-shaped. That was where the resemblance ended. Glittering, red-shot gray eyes honed in on me from a face caged in four massive tusks, below a bony shield like a triceratops that crested its lowered head. Mud-streaked, mottled purple skin, spiny bristles fringed along its spine, and a thick cord of a tail that was more rat than hog, tipped with a cluster of curved spikes.

Don’t move, you little bastard.
I could practically hear Orville Valentine’s barked commands, the first time they’d shoved me out to flush a wild hog.
You wait until the last second, so the sumbitch keeps runnin’ once it passes you. Or tramples your weak ass—I don’t much care which.

Boar baiting was a lot like being a matador. Let it charge, sidestep, repeat until the animal got tired and gave up. Or in my case, until someone finally bothered to shoot it when they got bored with watching me scramble desperately out of the way.

At least Uriskel wouldn’t wait that long. I hoped.

Somehow I managed to hold my ground until the monstrous thing was one leap from goring me. I dove aside, heard the high whine of an arrow. The beast squealed thunder.

When I got up, it was already charging again.

I let it come longer. This time it was running parallel to the tree line instead of head-on, so it should afford Uriskel a more damaging shot. At least he’d hit it the first time—the feathered shaft of the arrow protruded from the creature’s left shoulder.

Two more mosquito whines sounded in rapid succession over the thunder of hooves. I jumped aside, felt the hot breath of the beast as it passed inches from me. And watched its barbed tail whip around and head straight for my face.

That was probably where the poison was.

Without thinking, I raised an arm to block it. “
Lahm à dionadth!
”

I didn’t even realize I’d spoken the words, until the tail clanged against shimmering nothing in front of my arm and bounced off.

Holy hell. I’d actually remembered a spell when I needed it.

The beast galloped a few more feet full-steam before it stumbled and let out a bellowing roar. Then it toppled to the ground, panting and heaving, with fresh arrows sprouting from its side.

Uriskel burst from the tree line, bow at the ready, and sent an arrow neatly through its throat. The creature shuddered and stilled.

He turned to me with something that mostly resembled a smile. “Well done, DeathSpeaker.”

“Yeah, you too,” I said. “But do me a favor.”

“What’s that?”

“Call me Gideon. I’m not all that thrilled with the title, you know?”

He nodded. “All right…Gideon.”

“Thanks.”

It was strange. Uriskel seemed almost friendly, and for some reason I felt like I’d just passed some kind of test.

I only wished I knew what he’d been testing me for.

C
HAPTER 18

R
oasted
fián’tormihr
did not taste like chicken. It was greasy and a little gamey, like most wild meat, but surprisingly tender. Somewhere between pork and buffalo—which I’d actually had a few times.

The bulky carcass never would’ve fit through the entrance to the tree-cave, so we’d temporarily moved the party outside. With decent portions eaten and the rest of the beast cooking over a hastily dug pit fire, we sat on the ground in a loose semi-cirle near the base of the tree, awkwardly not speaking.

At least until I remembered I’d left out something important. In all the confusion and exhaustion of getting here, dealing with an unfamiliar world and the tension of facing damned near impossible odds for success, I’d forgotten to mention Reun.

“Uriskel…there’s something I should probably tell you,” I said.

He gave me a dry look. “I don’t suppose it’s good news.”

“Not exactly.” I coughed and stared at the fire. “Uh, we may be trying to rescue three people,” I said. “After they took Daoin and Taeral, a friend of ours decided he had to save them on his own. He crossed over before we could stop him.”

Uriskel frowned and rubbed a temple. “So this friend is Fae.”

“Yeah. His name’s Reun,” I said. “I guess he’s a Seelie noble, and—”