Beyond a Darkened Shore(32)
Leif wheeled Sleipnir around to where we’d entered the forest, and one of the hounds almost caught its strong jaw around Sleipnir’s leg, but Sleipnir flew over it as though he had wings.
His hooves thundered across the muddy terrain, sending torrents of water up in his wake, and still the hounds closed in. They howled and snapped at Sleipnir’s haunches, staying on him even as he zigzagged to avoid them.
We burst free of the forest only to find ourselves herded toward another copse of trees. Only this time, as we galloped closer, I realized this wasn’t an ordinary forest. The tops of the trees had bowed over and entwined with each other on either side of a wide path, until they formed a tunnel made up of gnarled branches and leaves.
A deafening silence fell upon us as soon as Sleipnir entered the tunnel, as though the rain had cleared in an instant. The sounds of the hounds disappeared, but I sensed that we were far from safety. When I looked behind us, the torrent still fell, everywhere but over the forest entrance. I shuddered.
Sleipnir flicked his ears back and began to back up, but he was soon met with resistance.
I leaned forward and rubbed his neck in an effort to soothe him, though I was as terrified as he. “There is no use going back now. We have entered the Faerie Tunnel, and we will only be able to leave if and when it suits them.”
“If we cannot go back, then we must continue on,” Leif said, nudging a reluctant Sleipnir forward.
The eerie silence of the forest, completely absent of chirping birds, small animals moving through the underbrush, or even insects buzzing, filled me with as much dread as the howling of wolves. The fall of Sleipnir’s hooves seemed like the loud banging of drums in comparison, and I scanned the trees for any sign of life as we passed.
I couldn’t help but fear we’d been herded directly into a trap.
9
As we raced deeper into the forest with no way of knowing our direction, or if we would ever find our way out, the fear in me grew until it was as though fear itself was another monster that raced alongside us. I gripped Sleipnir’s mane with whitened hands, and my heart thundered along to the sound of his hooves. When I glanced back at Leif, it made me even more afraid to see his face pale. He wrapped one arm around me, and the muscles were so tight it felt like stone.
The trees blurred by, but as I concentrated, I caught flashes of faces in the trees. They seemed to be part of the tree trunks, as though the trees themselves were alive: a white ash with the face of an old crone, an enormous oak tree with a slim face like a nymph, a haggard tree with gnarled, twisting branches forming a frightening face. And lights, blue lights in the trees. They danced merrily, enticingly. Will-o’-the-wisps, I was sure, to lead us astray, or even back toward the hunt.
For indeed, the baying had grown closer again, and Sleipnir snorted in fear. That same fear reached into my chest and grabbed hold, leaving ice in its place.
Where before us there were trees, now suddenly a rock wall rose out of the forest, blocking our path. Leif pulled Sleipnir to a sliding halt and threw himself from his back. I followed, taking up the same wide-legged defensive stance as Leif. We both stood together, pale and already panting for breath. Leif managed to shove away his fear first; he unsheathed the broadsword, and I pulled my dagger from beneath my cloak as soon as I’d steadied my breath. Holding the sword before him with both hands, Leif took a step in front of me.
With a growl of frustration, I moved away from him. “If you’re so concerned for my safety, then give me my sword, you fool,” I snapped.
He spared me the briefest of glances. “I can kill these creatures much faster with it—and keep us both alive.”
The hounds burst out of the cover of the trees, stalking closer to us with bristly hackles raised. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Leif raise the broadsword. Just as the lead hounds gathered themselves to leap at our throats, the ones at the rear yipped and barked excitedly. Like well-trained soldiers, they parted down the middle and stood at attention, allowing their leader to pass through.
A white stag, its antlers as sharp as daggers, leveled its gaze at us. Despite its male appearance, it was a female voice that resonated from it—and from all around us. It echoed from the trees and reverberated into our minds.
“I’m afraid you’ve found yourselves as prey for the Wild Hunt.” The voice was softly menacing, beautiful and terrible all at once. “My hounds have herded you like sheep into my realm, and there is no escape.”
I sensed the minds of all the creatures before us—feral and desperate for the kill. Beyond those minds, though, was a mind of a being so staggeringly powerful, I couldn’t hope to breach it. The stag’s mind made Leif’s mental wall seem like a thin sheet of parchment. It was a fortress, a mountain—untouchable. There was something about the sheer awesome power of it that reminded me of the Morrigan. I probed harder, and the moment my mind touched hers, the voice let out an angry hiss.
A howling wind came from nowhere, and the forest darkened. The stag narrowed its eyes at Leif. “You have the same look about you as those abominations—those giants from the north who stomp all over this land, killing as they go, while you mortals do nothing. All the ancient creatures of éirinn have been stirred free of their places of rest—each-uisces from their rivers, sluaghs from their forests and shores, even the Faerie Tunnel you find yourself trapped in—responding to their tainted presence.”