Blood of Wonderland (Queen of Hearts Saga #2)(22)
The flowers radiated a warm heat when they popped open, which accounted for the heavenly air that flowed through this field. The grass was a bright green, and felt more like a soft pillow than a wooded forest floor. Dinah felt the overwhelming desire to slip off her boots and run laughing through the flowers. It could only be called a hysterical happiness. She was drunk with it.
“My gods,” she heard Sir Gorrann mutter, and Dinah stood up. The Spade rested his hand on her arm and with a gentle touch tilted her head upward. They both looked in wonder. Thousands of enormous, swirly mushrooms filled the field. They were huge, as tall as trees in most places. Their stems were wider than Dinah, trunk-like white stalks that led up into a thick, billowy explosion of color, the horizon like a bucket of parasols. They exploded from the ground, each unique in its varied colors and type, giving the overall effect of being in a hazy dream. Dinah turned in a circle. The valley was deep and long, a maze of color and fantastic curling shapes, each mushroom standing proudly against the sky.
Dinah blinked. She suddenly wasn’t sure how long she had been staring at the mushrooms. Had she been here an hour or a minute? She looked over at Sir Gorrann. The Spade stood rooted in the same place he had been before, his mouth agape. Dinah began walking toward one of the mushrooms. Its cap was a brilliant yellow with swirls of glittering orange and red, like someone had taken a wet paintbrush to the top. Underneath the cap, a warm white light pulsed within its gills. They seemed to contract with each burst of light, as if they were breathing. The mushroom was utterly intoxicating, perhaps the most attractive thing she had ever seen. It seemed to be calling to her. Dinah reached out to touch the stem.
“Don’t.” The deep voice broke her trance and Dinah’s hand jerked to a stop. The Spade walked up beside her. “Don’t touch them. They might be poisonous. We don’t know. On the other hand . . .”
“I want to eat them,” whispered Dinah, her mouth watering at the thought.
Sir Gorrann scratched his beard, his hand trembling with want. “I do as well, which is exactly why I think we shouldn’t. Let’s continue on our way.”
Dinah wanted to do anything but leave. Instead, she simply nodded. Her eyes took in every stem, every inch of the mushrooms. Together they walked silently through the field, the fungi stretching out in all directions, seemingly never ending. Dinah watched with fascination as they passed a pink-and-white-striped mushroom with a black stem and yellow gills, a bright blue mushroom the color and depth of the sky, and a deep purple mushroom with a stem covered in a thousand tiny mushrooms of the same color. The light in the valley faded into a soothing glow. It was something otherworldly, the most extraordinary thing Dinah had ever seen, the exact opposite of the dark tunnel from which they had emerged. Sir Gorrann didn’t speak, but the Spade had drawn his sword for some reason that Dinah couldn’t fully comprehend. Morte walked behind them, eating everything in sight. There was no way Dinah could stop him in this valley of rich food, and she watched him with envy as he gulped down a pure white mushroom that appeared to be made of frosting. Her steps fell silently on the soft lawn. Twisty tendrils curled up from the ground, as thick as a man’s arm, as they passed. The curls gave a tiny shake when her foot landed beside them, as if they were stirring from a deep sleep.
I could stay here forever, thought Dinah. I could lie underneath the mushrooms and simply watch their colors pulse with this . . . enthralling life. Dinah let her eyes linger on a pink mushroom, its rich fuchsia the same color as the inside of a Julla fruit. Tiny glowing stars dotted its cap. “Oh,” breathed Dinah, amazed at the beauty of it all. She reached for the mushroom. An odd cry echoed through the valley, such a strange sound in this peaceful haven of light and warmth. It sounded like a crane. The cry was followed by another, and then she heard a whump. She knew that sound. Her face distorted with terror as she spun around. The first arrow took the Spade off his feet. He flew backward onto the grass, a white-feathered arrow protruding from his chest. Two more arrows landed on either side of him. The valley grew lighter as all the mushrooms suddenly radiated with blinding white light. A second arrow landed just past her feet, another in front of her. She blinked in confusion.
Wake up! she screamed at herself. You are under attack! Her thoughts finally connected, and she blindly ran, arrows falling around her like rain. Dinah plunged through the mushrooms, ducking and bobbing as arrows whizzed past her face.
“Morte!” she screamed. “Morte!” Suddenly, he was upon her, his black hide rippling with excitement. He barely even stopped moving long enough for her to step onto his leg and vault herself onto the nape of his neck. They were flying, his muscles pounding like thunder beneath her, the rainbow light a colored blur that flashed past. Dinah watched with horror as a line of feathered warriors appeared before them. They were hundreds deep, each holding a notched arrow, each one trained on her and Morte. The Yurkei. Morte wheeled to the left, but they were there as well, and to the right, emerging from between the mushrooms like ghosts in the darkness. Had they been there the whole time? Morte whinnied and stepped backward. Something was wrong with him. He was stumbling, jumping, falling over his feet. The warriors slowly moved toward them. Dinah and Morte were surrounded on all sides.
Morte began to buck, and Dinah clutched his mane to keep from falling off. When he landed, she nudged him forward. If there was no passage leading away from the Yurkei, she would go through them. Morte would crush them under his mighty hooves, even if he was acting strangely. Dinah drew her sword.