The Lost Child Read online

  “She looks cold.”

  She smiled at me. “Thank you.”

  Much was contained in those two words, but there was so much more I wanted to say to her that I could barely wait until we were out of danger.

  Suddenly, just at the edge of my hearing, I caught the sound of feet, approaching fast from beyond the false wall.

  “They’re coming.”

  Bryn clutched the baby to her and headed down the tunnel with Klassje not far after her.

  “You next,” I said to Chevalier.

  But the frog shook his head. “Go with your child, vampire. I’ll stay here and buy us some time.”

  “I…”

  “I’m not arguing with you, Sinjin. If they come up behind us in that tunnel then we’re all goners. Don’t worry about me. I’ll get out. Bryn and the baby need you.”

  I did not have any words that could adequately express what I felt towards him. “Thank you.”

  Chevalier smirked. “I realize how hard that was for you to say.”

  I turned to leave but Chevalier spoke again.

  “She loves you Sinjin. She needs you to be there for her and for the child. Don’t be a fool.”

  At another time I might have been irritated to get such advice from the fop, but he was perfectly, if annoyingly, correct. “I am done being a fool.”

  I went down the tunnel, my mind racing as I went. What would happen to him? Chevalier was a good fighter , though I was loathe to admit it. If they had sent Redcaps against him, then he had a reasonable chance. But if he was up against members of the Unseelie Court, then the best he could hope for was to be taken prisoner. Or perhaps it would be worse?

  Emerging out at the bottom of the tunnel, I found Odran was already down the cliff by the bridge, urging on Klassje who was climbing down the cliff. Bryn was standing beside me.

  “Where’s Dureau?” Bryn asked.

  I said nothing, but she understood from the look on my face, and looked away. “I didn’t want that to happen.”

  “We will not let it happen,” I said, the decision made in my mind on that instant. “We will get him back. But we have to get her to safety first.” I stroked my daughter’s head. “That is what Chevalier wanted.”

  Bryn nodded, but I knew how hard this had hit her. And how hard it would hit Klassje. But there was no time now.

  “Give me the baby.”

  Bryn did so instantly. “What have you got in mind?”

  I was looking down to where Odran was. “Tough climb up, but down is always easier.”

  “Be careful.”

  I crouched, holding the child close to me, then leapt.

  I rolled as I landed, the snow partly cushioning me, the baby held protectively in the crook of my arm. Coming back up straight, I urgently checked on my passenger. She smiled at me.

  “Wish I’d thought of that,” said Klassje, struggling down to join us.

  “Your turn, lass!” Odran yelled, but Bryn was already on her way down.

  Time was short. If the Darrig knew we had gone out through the tunnel, it knew where we would emerge this end, and there was only one way off this mountain.

  “Where’s Dureau?” asked Klassje.

  I was about to answer her when a noise erupted from the icy mouth of the fortress. Damn. Led by a handful of Redcaps, the Unseelie Court in its unholy majesty charged out, fury driving them towards.

  “There!” The Fir Darrig led the charge. “They have the infant!”

  I looked back to where Bryn was clambering down the cliff, as quickly as she could, but not quickly enough. The rock bridge would bottle-neck the Darrig’s army, but only if we could get across it and with Bryn where she was, there was not time.

  “Well now,” Odran turned to face the oncoming horde, “Ah think Ah know what mah Daddy would do in this circumstance.”

  He started forwards to face the throng , but I held him back.

  “You have to lead them back, Odran. You are the only one who knows the way and the only one who can protect them in Faery.”

  Odran looked caught between anger and acceptance. He knew I was right, but fought against the idea. For he knew what I was saying.

  “Sinjin…”

  “I cannot let that fop hog all the glory and run the risk of being martyred,” I joked. “Tell Bryn I love her.”

  “Sinjin…” Klassje began.

  “Protect Bryn,” I said to her firmly. “That is an order from the protector of the queen and her own. You disobey at your peril.” I knew if I was not clear, she would insist on fighting with me.

  “Sinjin!” yelled Klassje.

  But I was gone.

  Literally, in fact. I had sensed there were dangers to trying the vampire dematerialization trick in Faery and so had not tried it, but right now seemed like the time.

  It felt very different to normal; as if I was trying to gather all the scattered pieces of myself and reassemble them like a jigsaw. But, with an effort, I pulled myself back together and rematerialized directly behind the Fir Darrig.

  The creature screamed for help as I grabbed it by its hair and yanked back its head, exposing its throat to my fangs. The charge was arrested as the Redcaps rushed back to aid their master. I used the Darrig as a club, swinging its frail body about me, knocking Redcaps left and right. Frankly, I must admit to rather enjoying it. I had had more than a little anger pent-up in me for

  a few days now—anger at the Darrig, at myself and at the world in general. It felt quite good to let rip.

  With a squirm and shriek, the Darrig pulled away from me and I backed up towards the bridge, the bodies of stunned Redcaps lying about me.

  “Right. Who is next?” I clenched my fists for the fight. Looming before me were the Fae of the Unseelie Court. They were still relatively few in number—less than ten from what I could see. But it was not their number that worried me. There was Black Annis, brandishing the human leg bone she used as a stick. There was the Fachan, its single eye shooting hatred at me. A twelve foot giant with human skulls slung about its waist, pounded a huge fist into its palm then picked up a heavy wooden club. There were others; some hideous, some oddly beautiful; all evil, all shot through with dark power. They wanted my child, and all that stood between them and her, was me; a single vampire.

  This was the stuff that legends were made of.

  “You’ll die here, vampire!” the Fir Darrig howled.

  I shrugged. “I am already dead. Care to join me?”

  “ Attack! ” he yelled.

  “Get the child!” Black Annis yelled louder.

  I glanced back over my shoulder. Bryn had reached the bridge and was taking the baby from Klassje. She looked towards me, her face distraught; she knew she had to leave me, to keep our child safe.

  I had done all that I could do; I grinned at her, and then turned back to face the attacking horde.

  I had backed up to a point where the spit of rock leading to the bridge began to narrow, so they could not all attack at once.

  With vampire speed , I raced to meet the approaching giant, and then, at the last moment, ducked and swept my leg out to kick away its ankles, sending the clumsy brute tumbling, handily blocking the way to the other approaching Fae.

  Another glance back assured me that Odran, Klassje, Bryn and baby were now almost across the bridge.

  How much time could I get them?

  The Fachan attacked. Odran had been right; the creature was surprisingly nimble on its single leg. It grabbed me about the throat as I struggled and kicked, tightening its grip until I poked it in the eye, making it drop me.

  For a moment I was in the thick of it, claws and teeth biting and scratching; Fae magic lacerating my skin and burning me to the bone. Fortunately the spells seemed to cancel each other out—the

  Unseelie Court were, as ever, unable to work as a team, which seemed the only thing keeping me alive right now. I lashed out to grab Black Annis’s gruesome stick, wrenched it from her hands and used it to knock the hag
off her feet.

  A roar of anger silenced the horde. The giant was back on its feet and lumbering towards me, wielding its massive club threateningly. As I backed away, closer to the bridge, an idea occurred to me. Dangerous, but if I could pull it off, then Bryn and the others might be safe, at least for now.

  Backing up further , I felt the slippery ice of the bridge beneath my feet.

  “Come get me,” I dared the giant.

  It roared again and swung the club, its huge muscles bulging.

  I stood to take the blow, only diving aside at the last moment.

  The club impacted into the bridge and the giant’s mighty strength told. The rock cracked. For a moment, the bridge held there, visibly shaking, then it splintered, falling into the abys below in a cascade of shards. Now there was no way across. Bryn and the others could make good their escape.

  Of course, this being Faery, another bridge would be there by tomorrow, and it was not impossible that a few of these creature could fly. But they could not give chase en masse .

  I had done it.

  And if there was any doubt in me of the severity of the blow I had struck, then it would have been removed by the look on the Fir Darrig’s face as it stared at the place where the bridge had been. Furious anguish boiled it its eyes, and now that look was turned on me, filled with hatred.

  “Take him.”

  The next part of the fight was considerably less fun.

  THIRTEEN

  BRYN

  My heart ripped itself in half inside my chest. Were it not for my daughter, I would have gone after Sinjin. I would have defended him until the end, but as I glanced down into her inquisitive face, I realized she needed me more than Sinjin did.

  I had to defend her now. I had to leave Sinjin to his own defenses. It was exactly what Sinjin would have wanted me to do.

  What if they kill him? I thought. What if I could have saved him?

  What if they do worse?

  Sinjin has survived as long as he has because he’s a gifted warrior, I argued with myself. And now you have to trust him. You have to trust that he knows what he’s doing. And, besides, you are now a mother and that means your daughter needs to be your first priority.

  And on that subject, I could not argue.

  Odran led the way, the frustrated warrior; he would have done anything to have taken Sinjin’s place on that bridge, and I daresay he would have held his own against the horde. But his place had been here, making sure we all got back safely.

  Klassje and I walked behind, as fast as we could , but we were both heavy with sorrow. We had both lost our men, and they had both been ours. Sinjin was the love of my life, but Dureau could have been, in another time, in a world without Sinjin. Dureau was my confidante and my friend. He was also Klassje’s lover, and I was still unsure how deep that love went, or might have gone, had it been allowed. To Klassje, Sinjin had been a mentor, a master and a friend. And a lover once upon a time. She felt both losses as keenly as I did.

  But to call them ‘losses’ was wrong —at least as far as I was concerned. Once the baby was safe, we would be back. Or, at least, I would. Once I could safely see my daughter in the hands of my sister or of Mathilda, I would return for Sinjin. And hopefully Odran would come with me. I was more than sure Klaasje would.

  “Do you think they’re going to be alright?” Klaasje asked me as she worried her lower lip.

  “Yes,” I answered with firm resolve. “You know Sinjin and you know Dureau.”

  She nodded. “Sinjin is almost impossible to kill. He’s like a cockroach.”

  I couldn’t help the laugh that rippled from my lips. “A cockroach,” I said with a nod. “I like it.”

  “Don’t tell him I said that,” she answered with a little smile that was sad.

  “I won’t.”

  #

  The Darrig didn’t habitually kill its prisoners—I had learned that much—not when there were many more entertaining games it could play with them. The thought didn’t do much to comfort me.

  But Sinjin and Dureau were strong; they could survive. If only they could survive for long enough.

  We didn’t stop to camp that night, but kept on going through the next day as well, putting as much distance as we could between us and the Unseelie, knowing they would probably be giving chase.

  One problem I hadn’t considered was feeding my baby. Because she’d been stolen from me, my milk had never come in, therefore I couldn’t breastfeed her. Luckily, Odran seemed to have the solution and began picking a strange looking flower with an even stranger name I couldn’t pronounce. The flower had pink petals, yellow filaments that extended out of it like skinny fingers, and a long, narrow green stem. The dark green leaves curled up and around the bud in little curlicues. The ends of the petals were a bright purple, matching the ovary of the middle. And it was that ovary that created a strange, purplish milk Odran referred to as

  ‘Ambrosia’. Apparently it was akin to formula because the baby loved it and it kept her satiated. Odran said it was full of nutrients and Fae children were all brought up on the stuff.

  At the end of the second day , we had covered a huge distance and were almost out of the mountains. I wanted to keep going, but it was impossible, we had to rest.

  But with rest came thought, and we finally had to face what had happened.

  “Ah willnae rest,” growled Odran, as he angrily stoked the fire,

  “till Ah have brought that Court to its knees.”

  I didn’t care about that. I just wanted Sinjin back. “When we reach Kinloch, I’m going to leave the baby with my sister and then I want to return,” I said to Odran. “To get Sinjin and Dureau.”

  “Aye,” Odran nodded.

  “And I’m coming with her,” Klaasje added.

  “Will you come with us, Odran?” I asked.

  He took a deep breath. “O’ course Ah will. Ye didnae even need to ask.”

  I knew he would, and I was so grateful to him. “Thank you.”

  He nodded and a slight blush colored his cheeks. “How is the bairn?”

  “Sleeping,” I replied. Tonight was the first time I had really had a chance to look at her. Inevitably, she reminded me of Sinjin, which made me sad. But the sight of her also made me feel an inappropriate joy. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

  I felt so guilty for the uncontrollable, wild happiness I felt with each blink of her eyes, each beat of her heart, each time she held my finger in her tiny hand and squeezed. It seemed wrong to feel like this when Sinjin wasn’t there to enjoy it with me.

  Only the knowledge that he would want me to treasure each moment kept me sane.

  And then there was the fact that w e had parted on a fight.

  Things had been so bad between us and now there was no chance to mend them. But when I looked back, I was damned if I even understood why things had gotten so bad.

  “If they’ve been captured,” Klassje said, “do you think they’ll be kept together?”

  “They’ll love that,” I tried to smile.

  “Ah think they would be at their best if they were together,”

  mused Odran.

  “Really?” laughed Klassje.

  “Aye,” Odran nodded. “If they were alone, then perhaps they would become depressed. Boot together, they will be there for each other. They are the closest thing to a friend either o’ them has.”

  He was right.

  “Do you think the Fir Darrig will keep them alive?” Klassje asked Odran the question that had hovered in the air between us for a while and which we’d both been afraid to ask.

  Odran’s heavy head sank. “Ah dinnae know, lass. Ah wish Ah could say for certain it would. But the Darrig is a fickle one. One minute this, the next minute that. Boot,” he looked up, “Ah have heard tell o’ him keepin’ prisoners to play his games with. An’

  if he has kept them, then they will survive. Ye both picked yer men well. Fools they may sometimes be, as we all are. Boot they are
the bravest an’ the strongest o’ their kind. Troost in them.”

  It was small comfort, but it was all we had right now.

  As I lay down to sleep that night, my baby still cradled to me, I reached out with my mind. In the rush of escape, there had been no time to do it earlier and now such distance stood between us, I wasn’t sure if I could find him. In the real world, I would not have had a chance, but this was Faery; distance meant different things here, and Sinjin was a beacon of darkness. I stretched to the limits of my mental reach, pushing myself as far as I dared go.

  Nothing but silence. Maybe I would have been better not looking.

  But then! At the outer reaches of my sensitivity, I could almost touch the barest flicker of energy.

  Sinjin.

  He was alive!

  I decided to keep it to myself as I wasn’t able to tell if Dureau was also alive and it seemed unfair on Klassje to tell her Sinjin was and Dureau might not be, but the thought warmed me. If Sinjin was alive, then there seemed at least a reasonable chance Dureau was too.

  And so I began to talk of them as if they were alive, and slowly my habit filtered through to Odran and Klassje. It was no longer if we would see them again, it was when . Maybe it was all no more than a comforting illusion I told myself because I needed to believe it, but it would do.

  We left the mountains and continued through Faery at high speed, the country seeming so much less bright and happy now than it had when we’d first come this way.

  “Where now?” I asked Odran, aware that the Unseelie Court was likely to still be on our trail.

  “Now we find a portal,” Odran replied. “Though we are nae longer in the fringes o’ Faery, we are still in the outer regions an’

  portals are few an’ far between. Boot Ah think Ah can find one soon.”

  “And then back to Kinloch Kirk,” said Klassje, her voice wistful.

  We would be returning successful but also bereft.

  “Aye,” nodded Odran, but there was a tone to his voice I could not help noticing.

  “Odran? Something wrong?”

  “Nae wrong so mooch, lass,” the big Fae hedged. “Or at least, nae more wrong than things already are. Boot I have been thinkin’

  aboot matters an’ after we free yer men from the Darrig, Ah dinnae think Ah will be returnin’ to Kinloch with ye.”