Elfhame (Skeleton Key) (8 page)

She took three steps forward, until she reached the stone. The golden light darted out of the keyhole, and slowly Mara inserted the glass key.

It slipped in smooth as water. She turned it carefully to the right. A soft chime filled the clearing, and the air between the stones shimmered. They key fell out into her hand.

She tucked it back into her pocket, lifted her head, and walked through the doorway between the worlds.

A
shower of sensation drenched Mara’s skin, as if she’d stepped through a curtain of warm water. She took a gasping breath of flower-scented air while her body realized it was not, in fact, drowning.

She stood between two standing stones in a clearing, similar to the one she had just left. Similar, and yet the air held a wild tang, and an unseasonably warm breeze wafted against her cheek. The sky above her was violet-black and spangled with unfamiliar constellations, including a bright spiral of seven stars high overhead. Silver light illuminated the tall evergreen trees surrounding her, and beneath them grew strange flowers that glowed dark purple and scarlet.

The trees, at least, were still hemlock and cedar, though they whispered to her in a language she could not understand.

A flicker of light danced through the air, and Mara was glad to see that one of her guides had accompanied her. It flitted to the edge of the clearing, then bobbed impatiently up and down.

“Very well,” Mara said. There was no reason to linger near the doorway when a magical new world awaited her.

She patted her pocket to make sure the key was still there—not that she trusted it to remain—then checked the knife at her waist. Before stepping under the trees, she turned and studied the clearing. The stones stood tall against the night sky. She could see no distinguishing landmarks—no twisted bushes or ragged stumps to signal the way back.

Well then. She’d just have to trust the winged sparks to guide her when it was time for her to return.

But first, she was truly embarked on an adventure.

The glowing creature lit a path into the evergreens, and Mara followed, her steps taking her through a deeper, richer version of the Darkwood. The scent of cedar and rich loam tickled her nose. The glowing flowers grew in clusters between the trunks, along with a soft moss that shed a faint emerald light. The trees were much taller than in her world, the trunks wider—some even as broad as a cottage. High overhead, the wind waved the branches in a hushing lullaby.

The light grew stronger, until she stepped out of the woods into a meadow filled with tall, silvery grasses. The little golden glow she’d been following swooped back to circle three times around her head, then flew straight up into the sky.

“Wait!” Mara cried.

She stared up at the night until her eyes watered, but the mote had settled itself in among the stars. Now she was alone, and the wind suddenly blew cooler, bringing with it a dank whiff of something rotten.

Where did she go, now that her guide had abandoned her? She turned a slow circle, wrinkling her nose at the stench. It seemed to be coming from her right. Moving quickly, she headed away from the smell and into the meadow. The grasses were almost as high as her chest, but parted easily as she passed.

No matter how fast she went, though, she could not get away from nasty smell. In fact, it was growing stronger. There was a noise, too, a chittering sound that made the back of her neck prickle with fear.

She broke into a run, pushing through the grasses. The sound grew louder. Breath coming fast, Mara risked a glanced over shoulder, then wished she had not.

A hideous creature scuttled out of the forest. It looked like an enormous spider—if spiders had hard shells and pincer claws. It had at least six red eyes that swiveled to fix upon her. Quicker than she thought possible, it hurtled into the meadow, clicking and emitting a high-pitched screech.

Mara dug her feet into the earth, praying she could outrun the monster. A noxious shadow passed over her, and then the creature landed ahead of her, pincers raised.

A moan of fear curdled in her throat. Though it was hopeless, she drew the kitchen knife. It trembled in her hand. It seemed her adventure this night was going to be very short-lived, indeed.

The monster opened its mouth, and the stench that emitted nearly brought her to her knees. Then it jumped again, directly for her.

Mara dodged and went to her knees, slashing out blindly with her knife. Miraculously, it connected with one of the creature’s legs, sending out a spatter of green ichor that burned her arm. She let out a cry of pain and dropped the blade. Her forearm felt seared to the bone.

The monster screeched and pivoted, raising its pincers, and despair washed over her.
Goodbye, my family
, she thought.
I wish I’d had the chance to tell you all I love you.

Then, from out of the blackness of the night, a new creature arrived. With a deep battle cry, it launched itself at the spider monster. Blinking away her tears of pain, Mara saw that it looked somewhat like a human man. His eyes were slitted like a cat’s and glowed with violet light, his bone-white features contorted in a fierce grimace.

He wielded a long, curved sword in one hand. As she watched, stunned, he cleaved through one of the monster’s legs, nimbly dodging the acidic spray of green blood.

“Vende!” he shouted, pointing at her.

Get away
, she heard, echoing in her mind.

Cradling her injured arm across her chest, she scrambled back, but could not take her eyes from the fight.

The spider monster hissed, swiping at the man with its claws. He dodged the attack and raised his free hand. A ball of purple fire flew from his palm, hitting the creature in the head. The smell of scorched flesh joined the rank odor of the monster, and Mara swallowed back bile.

With a shout, her rescuer leaped gracefully forward and plunged his sword into the creature’s body. It let out a screech that rasped the air, then collapsed, legs and pincers twitching. One claw rose feebly and he set it ablaze with another gout of fire. After a few seconds, the monster stopped moving altogether.

“Rhanc na,” her rescuer said.
It is dead.

He pulled his blade from the carcass and wiped it clean on the silvery grasses. While he was thus occupied, Mara scanned the battle-trampled ground for her kitchen knife. It lay near the dead monster, nearly buried by the churned-up soil. She scrambled forward, gritting her teeth against the pain in her arm, and grabbed the blade. It was a poor weapon, but better than nothing.

Gasping, she rose to her feet, knife awkwardly raised in her left hand.

“Who are you?” she asked. “
What
are you?”

“Nahtadh!” he exclaimed.
You are hurt.

With two quick strides he stood before her, ignoring the feeble waving of her knife. He was tall and lithe, and wore dark leather armor. Pointed ears poked up through the midnight-black hair framing his pale face. Even without the battle grimace his features were forbiddingly alien—the sharp planes of his cheeks too angular, the set of his mouth too harsh.

Worst of all were his eyes, the irises contracting to thin slits as he studied her. She glanced away from the sight, trying to calm her galloping heartbeat.

She was not sure if she was in any less danger from this manlike creature than from the spider monster. Although he had come to her rescue, he was nonetheless quite terrifying.

With a shaky breath, she steeled herself and looked up into his glowing violet eyes.

The unfamiliar stars spun above his head, and the world seemed to tilt.

He reached to steady her. She flinched, and was surprised to feel his hands were warm on her shoulders, not corpse cold. A strange sensation coursed through her, a buzzing that centered on her injured arm. He dropped one hand and gently took her arm, and she let him straighten it, though the movement made her hiss with agony.

Thin lips turned down in a frown, he passed his hand over her arm. The pain lessened somewhat, and she let out a relieved breath, though she could not help noticing that his fingertips ended in hard ebony claws. He truly seemed more monster than man.

“Naresta,” he said.
Help is nearby
.

“I don’t trust you,” she said. “What kind of being are you? Do you even understand what I’m saying?”

He gave her a look she could not interpret. “Tolo.”
Come.

She could not gaze overlong on his frightful features, but he was offering to help, and she didn’t have any other options. Mara took a step, then nearly collapsed. The adrenaline that had carried her through pursuit and attack had gone, leaving her shaky and filled with pulsing pain.

With a muttered curse, he swept her up in his arms. She barely had the presence of mind to keep hold of her knife as he bore her through the silvery grasses.

His stride was smooth, and it seemed to take no effort to carry her. Some of his long, dark hair fell forward and brushed her face, and she smelled the dusty scent of hawthorn blossoms. She was too afraid of him to struggle in his arms.

“Gartong,” he said.
Hold tight.

He was a being of few words—but at least she was able to understand them. Though it seemed their communication was only one-way.

He shifted her in his arms, then lunged up. It took a moment for her stomach to settle, and then she realized they were on a horse. A very large black horse that seemed to have neither saddle nor bridle. He resettled her across his lap, holding her securely yet carefully. Her head rested against his chest, where she was relieved to hear a heartbeat. Her legs draped over his, and had he been a human man it would have been embarrassingly intimate.

But this strange, stern creature, despite seeming somewhat human, was certainly not a mortal man. If she were to guess, she would name him one of the fearsome Dark Elves out of legend. And she had fallen firmly into his clutches.

The horse moved into a walk, then a faster gait that was smooth as water. Mara listened to the Dark Elf’s heart beneath her ear and wondered what her fate was to be, and how she might escape it.

B
y the seven bright stars!
Bran could not believe he’d found the human woman he’d seen in his vision—and nearly lost her to a creature of the Void.

He didn’t know how the abomination had penetrated the barrier undetected, but it was a very bad sign. As was the appearance of the girl, if the prophecy was to be believed. Elfhame’s darkest hour must be nearly upon them.

She was a brave thing, he had to admit, even armed with that laughable blade. The fact she’d managed to cut the monster was impressive. But how strange she looked, with her soft, blunt features and small, clawless hands. She’d said she didn’t trust him—as if she had any choice in the matter.

His first impulse had been to take her back to the Hawthorne Court, so they might be married immediately. But she was injured, and the camp at the border was much closer than his father’s court. After they tended her wounded arm, and made sure she was well enough to travel, then the prophecy could be fulfilled.

Cautiously, he glanced down, to see that she was sleeping in his arms. The determination that had filled her face was smoothed away, and she looked vulnerable and young. His muscles tensed again at the thought of the Void creature attacking her, and a strange possessiveness welled up in him. He made a swift vow to the absent moon to do whatever he must to keep her safe.