Unfallen Dead

Ancient trees surrounded me, great gnarled beasts with trunks twenty feet across and deep violet moss swaying lethargically from enormous branches. As dim light filtered greenly down from high above, dark birds winged through the leaf canopy with muted calls. Brief bursts of essence flashed here and there in the deep shadows of the underbrush and faded away like spent glow bees. The air was thick with an eerie stillness broken by the occasional snap of a branch or soft insect whirr.

I leaned on the spear. Having a sturdy stick of wood was coming in handy. Sweat ran freely along my lip and down my cheek, and I wiped my hand across my mouth. It came away red. Not sweat, blood. Blood seeped from my nose and my ears. A tickle in my throat turned into a cough, and I spat more blood on the ground.

I picked through twisted roots and dense foliage toward a brightness winding through the trees that indicated a trail. Someone had walked it recently, kicking up a staggered path, like something had been pulled along behind. Or someone. Meryl’s essence hung thickly in the air. I followed it down the path, all my senses on alert. Not far off, sunlight shone more brightly where the trail broke through the trees.

I slowed my pace to soften my footsteps. At the trail break, the trees pulled back to form a shallow clearing. In its center rose a lone standing stone. Sharp ribbon lines of a binding spell held Meryl against it. I released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. She was alive. Even better, she was awake and alert. Powell paced nearby, muttering under her breath.

They wore the brooches from the Met, Powell the apple tree and Meryl the horned serpent. Powell had scored not one, but two true silver branches out of the robbery. My sensing ability picked up the fluttering of numerous sendings. Little spots of essence shot from Powell’s fingers as she made glow bees on the fly. I thought of the lone rider I saw racing away from Vize’s people. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know who it was. I had no idea how far I had traveled, but I doubted I had much time before Viten showed. I poked my head into the trailhead to attract Meryl’s attention.

About time, she sent immediately. I ducked. A cranky mood instead of a bad one was a good sign. I crept along the edge of the clearing until the standing stone was between me and Powell. When she faced away, I carefully broke cover from the trees and scrambled to the stone, pressing my back against it. Ribbons of essence around the stone held Meryl in place. They tingled against my back and came alive as they shifted position to loop over me. The dark mass in my head pressed pain against the backs of my eyes.

I faced the standing stone. My sword felt warm in my hand as I lifted the blade to one of the ribbons. Bindings are directed essence with no will of their own. Sharp metal can disrupt them. The first ribbon literally melted as I brought the blade near. One of the rune charms glowed on the sword. The remaining bands shifted and tightened, and Meryl sucked in a breath. The damned things may be mindless, but they still hurt like hell. Cutting each successive band would cause the remaining ones to tighten. I swept the sword across the stone, the blade making a metallic shriek as it scraped. The ribbons parted, waving in the air as they lost purchase, then snuffed out.

Sword up, I jumped from behind the stone. Meryl was free. A flash of green filled the clearing with the ozone odor of an essence strike. Powell spun, tripping back on her heels, and fell flat on her back. Meryl extended two fingers like a gun barrel and blew on them. “That’ll teach her to turn her back on me.”

Powell was out cold. Meryl chanted lines of essence in the air that dropped on Powell and twined around her. Meryl nodded as she examined her work. “One good binding deserves another.”

“Oh, shut up, Winny,” Meryl said. She gathered the ribbons of the spell in her fingers and twisted them into a knot, tugged at them to make sure the spell held.

“Do not move, please. I can easily sever your spinal cord before you even realize it.” Viten. We had run out of time. He was close, his breath on my ear, a smooth honey voice that did not sound the least bit nervous. I never heard him coming.

I had my sword and the spear. Viten made the mistake of closing the distance between us, which made me more dangerous to him. He probably had sensed he had two druids to deal with, not knowing one of them had no abilities.

“Do it,” I said. As long as they didn’t bind Meryl again, I wasn’t worried. Yet. Meryl looked like she was going to argue. With a shake of her head, she released the spell. Powell jumped up and locked her arm around Meryl’s neck, pressing a knife to her neck. It was the Breton dagger from the Guildhouse. The real one.

He scratched the tip of his sword along my neck as he circled around me, and I met Liddell Viten—con artist and murderer—face-to-face. He stood a foot shorter than me with the pale complexion all kobolds had. His features were smoother than average, which made glamours that much easier to use. For a dead guy, he didn’t look any the worse for wear. He wore fine clothing, archaic in a vaguely Teutonic court style, but made from an expensive-looking material. Being Dead seemed to agree with him.

Laughter danced in Meryl’s eyes, and she tossed me a sending. Go for his sword when I move. She didn’t give me a chance to think about it. She activated her body shield at full strength. Its sudden appearance tipped the dagger away from her neck. With impressive speed, Meryl dropped back on her hands and let loose with a flying round kick, knocking Powell off her feet. Distracted, Viten turned toward them, and I parried his sword out of his hand with the spear. Meryl stomped on Powell’s arm and grabbed the dagger. It was over in seconds.

With smooth grace, Viten leaped out of reach. He brought his own body shield on, weak in comparison to Meryl’s, but his fingers were charged with the unnatural essence of TirNaNog.

Meryl kept her eye on Powell. “If you used it to kill me, the souls would have released and wrecked your little plan to get him out of here. You always assumed that you knew more than I did, Winny. You were a lousy boss, by the way.”

The strange mix of surprise and tenderness that crossed Viten’s face fascinated me in a revolting kind of way. He met Powell’s eyes with an intensity that could only be interpreted as love. The realization that this woman had killed two people to create a soul blade for him so that he could kill yet another person to get out of TirNaNog touched him just as if she had just told him she made his favorite dinner.

“Oh, I don’t have to kill you to hurt you, Winny,” said Meryl. She shoved Powell toward Viten. I don’t know who was more surprised, me or Powell. Meryl twirled the knife and smiled. “I’ve already killed you once, Viten. Let’s make a wager. I bet that I can kill you with this knife before you can get a shot off. Consider this before you decide: I will only die, but you, my friend, will be obliterated by the souls in the knife. That’s how this thing works against the Dead.”

Powell looked smug. “I’ve already died once for Liddell. I’ll do it again. The Guild will protect my soul stone as long as it thinks it can arrest me. I’ll come back here next Samhain and destroy you.”

“I said kill her.” Viten pulled Powell into a tight embrace, nuzzling the side of her head and murmuring in her ear. “I have missed you every day, m’love, dreamed of you every night. Not having you at my side has been a torment. Every minute spent here is a minute I wished you could see this place.”

She looked stunned when I tossed the stone to Viten. “We don’t have time for this. The fairy ring is surrounded by cops and Guild agents. She’ll be detained as soon as she crosses the veil.”

He smiled down at her and caressed her face. “We have no need of it. I appreciate what you’ve done, m’love. I do. I truly do. But you’ve accomplished more than you realized. I have some power here. Here is where I wish to stay. It’s beautiful, Rhonwen. It’s glorious. I don’t want to go back. You mean everything to me. I want you to stay. Here. Always. With me.”

They kissed with the pent-up passion of ten years apart. White essence burst in Viten’s hand followed by a loud crackling. With a sharp gasp, Powell pulled her lips away from his. She struggled for breath, her chest heaving as the dust of her soul stone poured through Viten’s fingers. Her mouth broke into an ecstatic smile, then her eyes rolled in her head. Viten caught her as she went limp and lowered her to the ground. He cradled her across his chest, smoothing her hair back from her face, a repulsive, satisfied smile on his lips. He kissed her again. “Tomorrow, m’love, tomorrow you will wake up here, and we will spend eternity together.”