Chapter 23
The Hunt's lair held homage to the stories only up to a point. The entrance was a cave, but the wooden door set in the very back of the cave made it obvious that the Hunt's lair was not as simple as it seemed.
There was a Hound on guard who shifted shape at their approach. Lucas didn't recognize him, which only meant that he had not shown himself at all up until now. He did not speak, but nodded to Lucas and moved to stand against the wall.
Gabriel hesitated when he opened the door. "I would--if you don't mind--"
"Take care of Malachi," Lucas said. "I'll wait out here until he is safely in Sennet's hands."
The Hound blinked, as if he hadn't expected to be left with Lucas, but he did not protest.
"Thank you," Gabriel said.
When he vanished through the door, Lucas settled back against the wall. There were no chairs in the cave, of course, just sand on the floor. But despite the fact that the floor looked quite inviting, Lucas didn't think he would be able to get back on his feet if he sat down.
"Are you permitted to talk to me?" he asked.
The Hound smiled. "It depends on what you want to talk about." His voice was low and unafraid; he seemed both at ease and wary in Lucas' presence.
"May I have your name?"
"Thomas." The Hound cocked his head. "I knew your ancestor, Nathan."
"You knew him? But--I was under the impression that the Hounds created after Jacob Daulton's death had died in the binding," Lucas said. "Is that not true?"
"Does it matter now?" Thomas asked. "That was a century past."
Lucas offered him a smile. "I am the Council Historian," he said. "It may not matter to anyone else, but it matters to me."
"Fair enough. When our Master came here, he had three Hounds: Nathaniel, Malachi, and Josiah. They are the eldest. Nathaniel and Malachi have been with him since the very beginning."
"I did not know their names, before," Lucas said. "No one knew much about the Wild Hunt before the binding." He could not apologize for the binding. The alternative would have been to find a way to destroy the Hunt. And no one had wanted to destroy them, even then.
"No one knows much about us now," Thomas said. "Except, perhaps, for you."
The door opened then, but instead of Gabriel, a woman stepped out into the cave, hesitant and wary. She was--lovely came to mind, but that did not do her justice.
And by her obvious pregnancy, Lucas thought he now knew the depth of Gabriel's secrets.
Had he truly expected the Council to--what? Take her away? Refuse him his bride? And what of the child?
With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Lucas realized that Gabriel had expected such treatment. And why not? The early years of the binding had not been pleasant for anyone. The Council controlled each and every aspect of his life, and they would have been very interested to discover the Hunt's ability to shift shape. They might have tried to pry the Hunt from his grasp, and leave him with nothing. They could have easily done the same with the lady standing in front of him whose smile would illuminate the darkest of rooms.
"I bid you welcome to our home," she said. The cadences of her words marked her as Faerie-born, but her appearance would have told Lucas that. She had the look of a stately swan about her, perhaps, or royalty.
"Thank you," he said. "I am honored to be here." He fought the urge to bow, since he was a member of the Council. "But I told Gabriel I would be happy to stay here until he--"
"It is no matter," the woman said, and her smile cut off Lucas' words. "He asked me to welcome you. My name is Emle, and this is our daughter, Eri." She moved aside so Lucas could see yet another piece of the puzzle--a child of nine or ten years of age, with her parents' pale hair and Gabriel's eyes. "Please, come inside."
Thomas stayed behind as Lucas moved to do her bidding. And Lucas supposed that even now--especially now--the cave needed guarding.
The child--Eri--smiled at him as he passed, but her smile was troubled and sad. "Thank you for saving Malachi," she whispered.
"You're welcome," Lucas said, resisting the urge to ruffle her hair or give her pointless platitudes. "I hope your--ah--father realizes that I would have come at any time."
"Thomas, do you need to be relieved?" Emle paused in the doorway with Lucas at her back.
"No, I am fine," Thomas replied. "But I wouldn't mind a bowl of your stew when you have the time."
"I will send someone out with a bowl for you," Emle said, and closed the door.
"This house--has it always been here?" Lucas asked, trying to remember when the Hunt's lair in Faerie had been pinpointed on the maps. Over five thousand acres of forest, not to mention the vast forests in Faerie through the Veil--had made it quite difficult to pinpoint anything on a map.
"There was a troll here at one time," Emle said, leading him through a long dark hallway that seemed to be carved out of stone. "And before that--" her voice caught, just enough for Lucas to notice. "A wizard who wished to be a shapeshifter."
The hallway opened up into a large room that would have been a living room in any mundane house. A large hearth took up almost an entire wall of the room, and a wooden bench--with a couple of faded pillows its only decorations--sat underneath a window that looked out onto a magnificantly wild garden. There was a Hound sitting on the hearth--Zechariah, tired and pale--and another one standing in the doorway of what Lucas presumed was the kitchen, if the wonderful smells of baking bread and some sort of stew were truth.
"Our Master is with Malachi and Sennet," the Hound in the doorway said. He watched as Eri walked past them, down the hall where she vanished into shadow.
"And you are--?" Lucas asked.
"Nathaniel." His smile did not reach his eyes. "Does Thomas want company?"
"Thomas wants food," Emle said. "Would you mind bringing him some?"
"Of course not," Nathaniel replied, and nodded to Lucas before vanishing into the kitchen again.
"This is a beautiful house," Lucas said. Despite the fact that it was rather sparsely furnished, it seemed--comfortable nonetheless. Lived-in.
"You can wait for Gabriel in the library if you wish," Emle said, staring after her daughter. "I could bring you a bowl of stew--or a cup of tea--"
"The library?" Lucas asked, unable to keep the surprise from his voice. What kind of a library would the Master of the Hunt possess?
Emle's laugh was like the tinkling of little bells. "He said you might like to see the library."
They passed another Hound on their way down the hall--not that it was far. This Hound seemed no older than Josiah, with jet black hair and green eyes. He was also the most shy of the them all, actually jumping when he saw Lucas.
He seemed on the verge of protest when Emle showed Lucas into a magnificent library, but he did not speak, even after Emle asked him what was wrong.
Rows and rows of books stretched farther back than the room should have stretched, farther than the light truly reached. These were old books, not new tomes, carefully lined up along the shelves and free of every speck of dust.
A battered oak table--a true library table--sat in use as a desk with a leather-clad chair holding court behind it. There were books piled up on the table, and a single dried rose--a forgotten bouquet in a cut glass decanter--perched precariously on the very edge of one corner.
Gabriel's desk, and Gabriel's chair. The entire room pulsed with his presence.
"He spends a lot of time here, doesn't he?" Lucas asked before he could consider the impact of his question.
"Yes, he does," Emle said. "This is his--" She stopped then, fumbling for the word.
"His sanctuary," Lucas murmured.
"Yes."
He sensed chagrin from her now, and regret, perhaps for speaking so freely.
"And yet I am here. Why is that?" He turned to face her, confused by Gabriel's sudden trust. "If the Council is not what he fears the most--"
"Lucas," Gabriel's voice was soft, without inflection. "I need--Malachi needs your expertise." He appeared in the doorway, looking almost weary for the first time since Lucas had known him.
"Tell me why I'm here," Lucas said. "You mentioned someone earlier--"
"Yes." Gabriel took Emle's hand and drew her to him, a move not lost on Lucas. It was an unconscious movement, familiar and smooth. "A witch who I believe is working with Stefan. Her name is Magdalen."
"And you have proof of her involvement?" Lucas asked.
Gabriel hesitated. "No. Not yet. But Stefan--Stefan was a member of the Council, yes. But he was not this devious, Lucas. He would not think to use such spells on one of my Hounds. He would favor a more--direct attack."
"It has been a century since he has been seen," Lucas said. "How do you know he hasn't learned these things since then?" But even while he protested, he realized that he could not see Stefan as the key player in any of this. From what he had read about him, Stefan's personality was not apt to change, even with a century of study.
"Right after the last time I saw Stefan, Magdalen appeared to me," Gabriel said. If he had any reservations about telling this to Lucas, they didn't show up in his tone of voice. "She had been tracking my Hunt for years, and she assumed she had finally caught up with me."
"But the Council had already bound you by then," Lucas said.
Gabriel nodded. "She tried to break the binding, but it was too strong." He hesitated, and in that hesitation, Lucas realized Gabriel was only telling him bits and pieces of the story--enough for him to understand its import, but not every detail.
Perhaps there would be time for details later.
Perhaps he didn't need to know.
"And?"
"And then she vanished," Gabriel said. "She said she would return when the binding was set to expire, and that she would then assume control of my Hunt." He paused. "Of me, truly." His gaze silvered. "I know her of old."
From the look on Emle's face, this was news to her as well, but Lucas did not comment on her surprise. "How did she intend to control you?"
"Before the Council's binding, anyone who summoned my Hunt--me--controlled us for a while," Gabriel said. "That piece of the story is true."
"A curse?" Lucas asked, remembering his early research of the Hunt.
"Yes." Gabriel's gaze was hooded now, and Lucas wondered how long he would answer such questions before retreating into his usual silence.
"Is the curse broken?"
Gabriel smiled, but the smile never reached his eyes. "That is what I don't know," he said. "And what I am--" He stopped, then, and turned his head to look out the door. Sennet stood there, waiting patiently.
"He's asking for you."
"I know."
Through the bond, of course, Lucas thought.
Gabriel glanced at Lucas. "Will you come?"
"Of course," Lucas said, and wondered what Gabriel had been about to say. What I am afraid of? What would happen if the curse reasserted itself once the binding expired? "Have you thought of what might happen once the binding expires?"
Gabriel's lips twisted. "Of course," he said. "But I will not know for certain until after the binding is lifted. And neither will Magdalen." He bent to kiss Emle, whose gaze was troubled now, as if she had just realized the import of Gabriel's admissions. "I am sorry, my love."
"Is there not a way to check?" Emle asked. "The expiration of the binding should be a joyous thing, not a terrible time of uncertainty."
"I agree," Lucas said. "If the Council knew about this beforehand--"
"You are lucky to know about it now," Gabriel whispered.
Lucas knew when to back down, but this was important. What would happen if this Magdalen gained control of the Hunt? "And I thank you for your trust," he said. "But--"
"We can speak of this later," Gabriel said, almost pleading. "Please, Lucas."
"Very well." When he caught Emle's gaze, he saw that she had tears in her eyes, as if the possibilities that Gabriel had confessed were almost too much for her to bear. "All is not lost. We'll figure something out."
She barely managed a smile before turning away and hurrying out the door. She met Eri in the hall, and hugged the child before leading her away.
Gabriel watched them go, his mask slipping enough for Lucas to realize the depth of his attachment to both his lady and his daughter.
"We will figure something out," he said again. "There has to be some way around this curse of yours--if it even still exists."
"Yes." But the Master of the Hunt did not seem hopeful at all.
The bedroom Gabriel led him to was lit by the same unidentifiable lights that had made the library so cozy. But they were softer here, as if in response to the room's current use. Malachi lay on a large bed, dwarfed by its size and cleaner now, the blood and filth gone from his skin.
His eyes were closed and ringed with shadows, but Lucas didn't think he was asleep.
"His right arm was broken, his ribs were cracked, and he had a chunk torn out of his leg and his left arm," Sennet said. "He is very lucky to be alive."
Malachi opened his eyes. "My lord--" He caught sight of Lucas and struggled to sit up, only managing to do so with Sennet's help and a stack of pillows.
"You need to rest," Gabriel said. "But you also need to break that spell that prevents you from telling me what happened."
"Spell?" Malachi asked, confused. "What spell?"
"Do you remember Stefan?" Gabriel asked.
"Stefan--" Malachi blinked. "He has Hounds. Four of them. One of them asked me if I would teach her how to shift shape."
"And what did you say?" Gabriel asked, as calm as if they were talking about the weather.
Lucas couldn't tell if he was angry at this admission, or just curious.
"She saved my life," Malachi whispered, his gaze unfocused now. "I told her I would try. She said she would help me escape. And s-someone pulled me out of the water--" He closed his eyes and shivered violently.
"That would be Brenna, I imagine." Gabriel said. "Stefan's daughter."
"You didn't force him to tell you that, did you?" Sennet asked.
"No. Eventually, he will break that spell. But I do not wish him to drive himself mad to break it." Gabriel gently touched Malachi's bowed head. "And I dare not order him to leave it be."
"Because then he would accept it, and it would never be broken," Lucas said, understanding a piece of it now.
"Yes."
"What is it that you would have me do?" Lucas asked.
"Teach him a blocking spell," Gabriel said, his voice cold.
"A blocking spell against what?" Lucas asked.
"Everything."
"My lord, I am no wizard," Malachi whispered, cringing away from his Master's hand.
"You may not be, but if Magdalen calls you again, I want you to be able to protect yourself."
"But--"
"It will do no harm to learn the spell," Lucas said, hoping to ease Malachi's mind. "Anyone can learn spells. Take Althea for example. She has a wonderful talent for booklearned magic."
Malachi's eyes widened. He seemed about to speak, but then he closed his eyes and sighed. "Very well. If you insist."
Lucas saw Sennet hide a smile as she turned away from her patient.
"Can you teach him something to break a spell as well?" Gabriel asked abruptly.
"I can try," Lucas said. "But it would be a lot easier to do if I knew what spells he intended to break. There is no general 'breaking' spell.'" He tried to wrack his brain for an example. "Like--a truthspell. Although that's not a very good example, since it would take a very powerful talent indeed to break one of those."
Malachi was quivering again, his eyes still closed. Lucas wondered if Magdalen had used a truthspell on him, and what would happen if another one was cast. Would they cancel each other out?
"I am asking Lucas to do this to spare you pain, Malachi," Gabriel almost whispered the words. "I could tear it from your mind, but I am not certain what traps Magdalen has left for me."
"I know," Malachi said. "But I wish--what if it is too important not to tear from my mind?"
"Let Lucas try his spells first," Gabriel said. "If that doesn't work, then we'll try something else. I do not wish to lose another Hound, Malachi."
"Josiah--Josiah isn't dead," Malachi whispered, then froze. "At least I don't think he is dead. I don't think Magdalen knows for sure."
Gabriel glanced at Lucas, the torment in his gaze enough to make Lucas realize that this was Malachi's talent in evidence again, surfacing from his subconscious, and likely without his knowledge.
"What spells did she use?" he asked quickly.
Malachi shuddered. "A truthspell. And then, she bade me forget what I saw. I am to return if I survive, so she can use me as bait if she doesn't--" his voice trailed away.
"If she doesn't what, Malachi?" Gabriel asked.
Malachi opened his eyes. "My lord?" Confusion showed plain on his face--it was quite obvious that he remembered nothing.
Gabriel growled in frustration.
Malachi flinched--habitually, Lucas thought. Gabriel had made no move against him.
"This spell is draining you," Sennet said, and took his unresisting hand. "If you're going to teach him something, Lucas, I'd do it soon."
"I am sorry, my lord." There were tears trickling down Malachi's pale cheeks now, tears of both frustration and weariness.
Was he strong enough to learn anything, much less a spell?
"You have done nothing wrong," Gabriel said.. "Lucas--if you please?"
Lucas moved up to stand beside Malachi's bed. The Hound was so knotted with tension that even his breathing sounded labored.
"The first thing you need to do is relax, Malachi," Lucas said, pitching his voice soft and low.
"That is--difficult to do at the moment," Malachi said, but he was staring at Gabriel as he spoke.
"I will leave," Gabriel offered.
"No!" Panic bloomed in Malachi's gaze. "I would rather you stay, my lord. I will try to relax." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Slowly, his trembling eased.
"The key to any sort of block or shield is your imagining of what such a block looks like," Lucas said. "Some people think of a wall. Others, a smooth surface, like--"
"Like a mirror?" Malachi asked, and opened his eyes.
"A mirror reflects," Lucas said. "So no, not unless you wish the spell to bounce back on the caster." He smiled. "Sometimes that may work to your advantage. But you would need to know what sort of spell your spell is reflecting, just in case--well, just in case you want your opponent alive."
"A smooth surface," Malachi said. "Or a wall." He nodded and let out another deep breath. "Okay."
"I'll need to take your hand again, to show you this next part," Lucas said, and extended his hand. When Malachi placed his hand in Lucas' grip, Lucas showed him the formation of the shield.
"Anyone with even a small amount of talent should--at the very least--know rudimentary wards," he said.
Malachi's eyes widened. "But I am no wizard!"
"That may be true, but something inside of you is working to break that spell," Lucas said. "That usually means that you have some talent, whether it be large or small. Did you break the truthspell that Magdalen cast? Or is it still in place?"
"I don't think it worked for anyone but Magdalen," Malachi whispered. "I broke it once, when she asked me--she asked me--" His muscles twitched under Lucas' grasp. "She asked me about Emle, my lord."
"And what did you tell her?" Gabriel's voice fell like slabs of lead on Lucas' ears. The light dimmed, heralding, it seemed, the advent of Gabriel's fury.
"Relax," Lucas murmured, keeping a loose grip on Malachi's hand. "He will not harm you. I swear it." To Gabriel, he said, "If she truly used a truthspell, he would have had no protection from that. Truthspells are useful, but they are also used as a last resort. And Malachi did say that he broke her spell. Perhaps Magdalen didn't get any information at all."
Malachi's grip on Lucas' hand was so tight that Lucas feared for his circulation. "She does not know about Eri, my lord. I swear--"
"You do understand why I need to know what he knows," Gabriel whispered, his voice cold.
"I understand," Lucas said. "But frightening him to death will not help him break the spell."
"Can you help him break it?" Sennet asked, venturing a question only after Gabriel showed no sign of replying.
"I don't know," Lucas said honestly. He could not lie; not to Gabriel. Not when the very lives of his Hunt, his children, and his lady might hang in the balance.
"No," Gabriel said, as if he had forgotten he wasn't alone with his Hound. "I promised Emle I would not do that again."
Malachi opened his eyes. He was calmer now, as if he had accepted some dark fate, or the news of his impending death without fear. He released Lucas' hand without a quiver.
"But I am your Hound," he whispered. "My life is yours to do with as you will."
Stricken, Gabriel glanced at Lucas. "There is still time," he said. "We have a week and some days until the binding expires. Surely--"
"What is it that he wants you to do?" Sennet asked. She directed her question to Gabriel, but Malachi answered.
"Our Master can remove Magdalen's spell," he whispered. "And see what I saw. And hear what I heard."
"And destroy your mind in the process," Gabriel snapped. "I will not do that."
"You might not have a choice," Lucas said quietly. "But must you kill him to remove the spell?"
Malachi flinched a little, as if Gabriel had sent some protest--or order--through the bond they shared.
"Is there not a way to do it gently?" Sennet asked.
It was like asking an elephant to walk across a field of eggs without breaking a single one, Lucas thought. Gabriel was not a gentle person. He had learned a lot, yes, through the years, and his interactions with Emle and his daughter spoke volumes of how far he had come, but his Hounds were a different story.
"Leave us," Gabriel whispered.
"I cannot--" Lucas began, fearful now that he would witness the death of a Hound.
"Please," Malachi said. "It's okay. If I--If I cannot trust my Master, then who can I trust?" But there were tears in his eyes as he spoke, as if he didn't quite believe Gabriel could leave him intact.
"I will try my best not to hurt him," Gabriel said. "But I cannot assure you that I will not." He hesitated. "Sennet, if you would stay--Lucas--"
"I will stay," Lucas said.
"Thank you."
Despite his misgivings, he would stay. He owed Gabriel that much, at the very least.
Chapter 24
Nathaniel knew what Malachi had allowed their Master to do. They all did. When Gabriel dampened the bond between them, he realized that their Master did not expect to succeed in this, and if Malachi died, he wanted to spare the rest of the Hounds as much as he could.
That did not set well on Nathaniel's mind, but what could he do? Malachi had given their Master permission, for want of a better word, and he could not argue that the need to find out what Malachi had seen was very important.
But not at the cost of his life.
He thought Thomas understood when he slipped back into the house as a Hound, and padded across the living room without speaking to anyone.
At least Sennet was already here, he thought. And even Lucas did not look pleased at this turn of events.
He stepped out into the garden and saw a Hound pass through Josiah's wards--Seth? But it was close to midnight. What business did Seth have in the forest?
Curious now, Nathaniel followed him, careful to stay out of his sight. Seth seemed to have a roundabout destination; he stayed in Faerie, but moved closer and closer to town. Eventually, the Veil would force him to step into the Human World, where he should have stayed in the first place.
There were no rules about the Hunt in Faerie, of course. But the Hunt had no treaty with the elves, and they had stuck to the Human World since Jacob Daulton's order had been supplanted by the Council's binding.
Why would Seth leave now, when Malachi's life hung in the balance?
Nathaniel almost opened the bond to inform their Master of Seth's desertion, but he knew without even making the attempt that Gabriel's attention did not need to be on a wayward Hound at the moment. He would follow Seth to his destination, and then decide whether or not to bother his Master.
The Veil never faded. Nathaniel walked long after he thought it should end. In fact, he started to recognize bits and pieces of the forest soon enough, and realized their destination long before the forest opened up to clearing and he saw the ruined house.
Had Seth come here to mourn? Malachi was not yet dead! He watched from the shelter of the trees as Seth approached what was left of the house. The dampening spell their Master had spoken of hid Seth from Nathaniel's mind long before he reached the edge of the ruin--and farther, still, than Nathaniel expected it to reach.
Just like the Veil.
They were still in Faerie, though the Veil was thin here, and Nathaniel saw something sparkle in the burned grass around the house--a spell, or something similar that caught the moonlight and dazzled his eyes. He blinked and glanced away from it, searching for Seth, although he couldn't have gone far in an instant.
But Seth was gone.
Gone as if Nathaniel had been following a ghost and not a Hound at all.
Wary now, Nathaniel cast around for his scent, just in case he had been deceived. But the scent was Seth's, even though the trail stopped at what was left of the house's front door.
His hackles rising, Nathaniel backed away from the house. There was no sign of a spell other than the dampening spell; no sign of habitation or a portal or anything wrong. But something--something was not right in this. Seth could not have vanished without a trace.
He turned back then, intending to contact his Master as soon as the dampening spell lost its hold, but the Veil shifted, then, a shudder that sent the world careening around him and threw him into the Human World.
Nathaniel blinked and staggered to his feet. Seth's trail was gone now, but the house remained the same. The dampening spell reached only to the edge of the destruction and no farther--it was weaker, even, than it was in Faerie. Weaker, yes, but still strong enough to prevent him from contacting anyone through the bond.
There was one small difference. The sparkle he had seen from the edge of the trees wasn't just a sparkle anymore. Instead, it had formed itself into a net--a spell, Nathaniel thought. Someone's spell, lying forgotten in front of a ruined house.
No. Not forgotten. There was a shape underneath the net, and a pale hand half-hidden by a pile of debris. A hand.
Jordan?
It was much easier to pull the net free in human form, so Nathaniel shifted shape and did just that. The person underneath the net was not Jordan, but an elf--a girl with honey colored hair and a frown on her lips.
A frown that changed into a grimace when she opened her eyes.
Nathaniel retreated, but she had already seen him. She sat up, her fine clothing none the worse for wear, and stared at him for a moment before struggling to her feet.
One glance at the burned house drew her ire--she snarled something at the nearest wall and it burst into phantom flames that faded as quickly as they appeared.
When she turned towards Nathaniel, he held up his hands and backed away. "I saw you lying there. I meant no harm." It would be just his luck to find an angry witch instead of someone helpful, like Jordan or Seth. Or even Josiah, however slim that chance.
But she smiled at him--a genuine smile, he thought. "My apologies. I am not angry at you. But my Cousin was stolen from me by a devious--" She stopped, staring at him. "May I have your name?"
"If I may have yours," Nathaniel replied.
"Amalea," the girl said. "My Cousin's name is Kyren." She turned back to face the house and muttered something else--another spell that did not work.
"My name is Nathaniel." It was easier just to tell her, and doubtful that she would connect his name to the Wild Hunt. No elf had ever cared about the Hunt's proper names before; why should they start now? "I followed--I followed someone here and he vanished as well. But I lost his trail in Faerie." He hesitated, then, not knowing how much information to give her. "I did not know the Veil reached this far."
"It didn't, before," Amalea said. "Or at least that's what Kyren told me, and he had no reason to lie. There is a spell here--"
"A dampening spell," Nathaniel said. "It--It prevents me from contacting my Master."
He said that without thinking, then froze, wondering if she would unmask him as a Hound.
And she did hesitate before speaking, her eyes alight with curiosity now, but there was nothing unfriendly in her manner or tone of voice. "Your Master?"
"Yes," Nathaniel whispered, and decided to leave it at that. "There is one more person who vanished from here--a child by the name of Jordan. I think the Council fears he was lost in the fire, but--"
"That is unlikely, I think," Amalea said. "Who is your Master?"
"I cannot say," Nathaniel said. "And please do not ask me again."
Amalea seemed to take his words without any insult. She nodded, then said, "Kyren and I were on our way to the Healer's house. Do you know her?"
"Yes." Nathaniel hesitated, but then again, if she wanted Sennet, traveling the rest of the way to her house would be a wasted trip. "But she isn't home. Not now, at least."
"Is she searching for Jordan as well?" Amalea did something with her hands that set off a fireworks of blue sparks. "I can't seem to get inside, and stepping through the Veil may not help. What is the closest door to Faerie from this house?"
"The Hunt's--" Nathaniel's throat closed. Surely she couldn't mean to--What would his Master say if he returned with an elf? "The Hunt's lair." At the very last moment, he remembered not to say house, even though their house was one of the unspoken but well-known secrets in Faerie. But then, on the tail end of that, he realized that a normal human, even one obviously at home with magic, would not necessarily know about the door into Faerie. And Amalea was shrewd enough to pick up on that.
"Who are you?" Amalea took a step towards him, her eyes alight with curiosity. "As far as I'm aware, even the Council doesn't know about the door in the Hunt's lair. How is it that you know?"
"I cannot stay," Nathaniel whispered, both cold and hot at once. He backed away from her, frightened now--of both his Master's eventual response to his lapse and of her knowledge.
He should have left her where she lay. He should not have gotten involved.
She made no move to stop him as he backed away. She was still working things out in her mind.
"You said the Healer wasn't home. Where is she?" Her voice was very soft. Calming, even, as if she did not wish to startle him into flight.
"I can't stay," Nathaniel whispered. "I'm sorry." He backed away from her, poised to run.
"Please," Amalea held out her hands. "Don't leave because of me. My Cousin vanished inside this house somehow, and I can't seem to get past the spell. Can you see it?"
Nathaniel hesitated. "I truly cannot stay," he said. "I have to contact my Master to tell him about Seth's disappearance. I cannot stay."
"Your Master," Amalea said. "I see."
How much did she see? Nathaniel motioned towards the house. "I see only ruins. I feel the dampening spell, but I cannot see it," he said, hoping that would appease her. "I am no wizard."
"Is your Master a wizard?" Amalea asked.
"No." Why hadn't he left by now? "I must go." But he made no move to leave, and her next words stopped him cold.
"Do you--Oh, there isn't any tactful way to say this, and I'm sorry. Do you know the name Josiah? He--"
He did not give her a chance to finish the sentence. Anger fueled by fear replaced any hesitation he might have had. "What do you know about Josiah?"
Nathaniel had felt--and the others had felt as well--something through the bond just before they were permitted their human forms. If Amalea had information about Josiah--what would his Master say if he returned without that information?
"If I ask you a question, will you answer it truthfully?" Amalea asked, her voice oddly intense. "And please don't say yes and then lie to me."
"I should go," Nathaniel whispered, torn. What would his Master say? The bond's absence ate into his mind, casting all of his assurances into chaos. He took a deep breath. "Do you have--" Did he tempt death just by talking to her? His lips were almost too numb to speak. "Do you have news of Josiah?"
"Is Gabriel your Master?" Amalea asked.
Nathaniel shuddered and wrapped his arms around his stomach. When he glanced up at her, he saw no deceit in her gaze. She seemed only to want a truthful answer--validating what she already suspected. "Do you have news of Josiah?" he asked again, unable to force himself to tell her either the truth or a lie.
"Yes," Amalea said. At first, he thought she would leave it at that and wait for his answer, but then she spoke. "He is alive, and in my family's castle, where he has been held for ten years without my knowledge."
Nathaniel's first reaction was disbelief. On the tail end of that, fury--a fury so deep and so dark that he had to take another step backwards for fear of hurting her. He tried to push past the dampening spell with this news, but it remained firm. He was alone, alone with this terrible knowledge, and she would expect repayment for her information.
She would want to know that he was a Hound.
"He is very weak," Amalea continued. "And that is why my Cousin and I were in search of the Healer. My grandmother Mirella said she knows of his origin--and who would have wanted to find him so badly. He said there was a bond--but the dampening spell around the castle wouldn't let it through." She spoke quickly now, her hands loose at her sides, but sparkling with the first strains of defensive spells. As if she expected him to attack. "I am sorry if I thought wrong, but he spoke of his Master and so did my grandmother. And the only Master that I know of is the Master of the Wild Hunt."
Her words flowed through Nathaniel like ice water, dousing his fury and leaving him cold and shaken. His knees collapsed and he sat down hard, his mind whirling with the news.
"I am sorry if I caused you distress--" Amalea began, but he cut her off, his voice harsh.
"Distress? Distress?" He forced the words out of a half-closed throat. "You don't understand. Without the bond, we are nothing. And to have it gone for ten years--" It was a wonder Josiah was still sane.
Nathaniel struggled to his feet and stood in front of her, swaying a little with the import of her news. "Our Master will not allow him to stay in your castle. You must realize that."
"We wanted him healed before your Master saw him," Amalea said. "Perhaps that was wrong of us, but I do not wish a war with your Master. Gabriel is your Master?"
"Yes." He saw no way to hide that--not anymore. "I--" He wiped one hand across his mouth and tried to imagine the horrors Josiah had endured. "If you--If you didn't know he was in your castle, then who brought him there?"
"Can you tell this to your Master through the bond you share?" Amalea asked.
Nathaniel shook his head. "Not until I step outside this spell." He thought to stop then, and give her nothing else, but the words fell from his lips. "The Healer you seek is at our house in Faerie. Malachi was wounded today--here--and my Master--My Master is trying to break the spell that forced him to forget what happened." He had to take a deep breath before continuing, and his eyes filled with helpless tears. "If he lives through the breaking."
Should he mourn for Malachi now? Or wait until the bond was broken by his death?
Amalea's face paled at this news, and she closed her eyes. When she opened them, guilt warred with the sadness in her gaze. "I am sorry," she said. "Does your Master know who did this to him?"
"He knows a Hound named Stefan was involved," Nathaniel said. "And possibly a witch, named--"
"Magdalen."
"Yes," Nathaniel stammered, wondering now if confiding in her had been the right thing to do. Did he have a choice? "Who is Magdalen?"
"You are right in thinking she is a witch," Amalea said. "And perhaps your Master is the only one who knows the entire story as to why she wants to control the Wild Hunt. All I know is that she is a very powerful foe."
"I must tell my Master this; you realize that," Nathaniel said. "I cannot keep this a secret." And what about Seth? He would have to tell his Master that he had followed Seth and lost him.
What would his Master say?
He was not worried about dying, like Malachi always seemed to be. The time for death had passed many, many years ago. Punishment was more likely, but death--
Death--
The dampening spell prevented Nathaniel from using the bond, but it didn't prevent the pain of its destruction.
The bond could only be destroyed by the death of a Hound.
He tried to tell that to Amalea, but his mouth would not form the words. Instead, he fell to his knees, all strength gone, his mind cringing from the pain. Now he knew how Malachi felt each and every time their Master tore his memories from his mind. Now he knew, since Gabriel had never done such a thing to him.
"Nathaniel?" Amalea approached, her hands outstretched, worry plain in her gaze. "What's wrong?"
He tried to tell her, but the words could not pass the chaos in his mind.
She grabbed his arm. Pulled him across the burned grass, towards the shelter of the trees.
She wanted to help, he thought, unable to force his arms and legs to move. She thought it would help, to be free from the dampening spell.
Who had died? Malachi?
Seth? Josiah?
He tried to struggle out of her grasp, but he could not move.
He could not free himself from the pain.
She thought to help, but it was worse without the dampening spell's small measure of protection.
Who had died? The question haunted him, even as he lost himself to darkness, and he had no way to find its answer without pushing past the pain.
(Next Update: October 6th)
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