Fey 02 - Changeling (88 page)

Adrian had never felt such relief.

Apparently Coulter felt his relief too and some of the emotional assault eased.
 
Coulter
, Adrian thought,
We have to get out of here.
 
Quickly before they can recover.

Coulter's grip on Adrian seemed to tighten.
 
The light got brighter.
 
Suddenly Coulter flew through it, his small body ensheathed in it.
 
He landed beside Adrian, both wrapped in light.

We have to go,
Coulter thought, the words so powerful they felt like blows.
 
They know how to break through this.

Adrian picked up Coulter.
 
The boy wrapped his legs around Adrian's waist.
 
Coulter felt as strong as his emotions had.
 
The light tightened until it was close around them.
 
Rotin was shouting at Touched — something about a pouch.
 
The door had opened and Niche came in, holding Gift's hand.
 

Coulter was right; they would only have a moment before the Fey would converge on them again.

Adrian ran for the door, bumping the table with his hip.
 
He felt odd, moving with such light around him, but the light didn't seem to protect him from anything except the people.
 
Niche moved away from it.
 
Gift was yelling at Coulter.
 
Coulter sent a beam of light in Gift's direction, but Adrian only saw it.
 
He felt nothing.

"Nooooo!" Gift wailed, his voice echoing around Adrian's head.
 

Adrian ignored him.
 
He slipped through the door, into the gray mist.

The light that Coulter wrapped around them reflected the mist like a hundred tiny prisms.
 
Adrian ran down the steps and into the mist itself.
 
He knew where the Circle Door was — he used to pass it every day — but he couldn't go through it.

He was breathing hard.
 
He hadn't run in years, and he hadn't carried more than a few bundles of wood in all that time.
 
Coulter was clinging to him so hard that Adrian found it difficult to draw breath. The Fey they ran by shouted at them, but those shouts didn't echo as Gift's had.
 
Apparently Coulter had done something to bring Gift's voice inside the light.

The Meeting Rock loomed like a dark thing out of the mist.
 
The Circle Door was across from it.
 
Adrian looked behind him.
 
The Warders were following.
 
He had left a hole in the mist that was man-sized, and a trail of fading light through the hole.
 
The mist did not close up after him.
 
It was as if he had burned something through the center of Shadowlands.

Coulter pushed away from him.
 
We can't have the light and get through the door.

I think we need this light,
Adrian sent back.

Not if we want out.
 
Coulter ran to the precise place where the door was.
 
Adrian followed as the light winked out around them.

Suddenly the grayness had returned to Shadowlands. He hadn't realized how much the light refreshed him, warmed him, made him feel strong.
 
He stopped beside Coulter as the Warders caught up.

"Stop!" Touched yelled.
 
"Now!"

Coulter didn't even glance at them.
 
He stuck a hand through the
 
mist and the Circle Door opened.
 
Sunlight streamed around the Dirt Circle and the scent of fresh air and pine trees flowed in.
 
Adrian grinned at the familiar sight.
 

Home.
 

He was getting out of the grayness and going home.
 

Touched had almost caught up to them.
 
Rotin was farther behind, her older body unable to keep up with the rigors of the run.

"Let's go, son," Adrian said to Coulter.
 
He put a hand on Coulter's back to propel him out of Shadowlands, but Coulter wouldn't move.

Adrian looked at him.
 
The boy's face was white, his eyes huge.
 
His hand still extended through the door, keeping it open, but he wouldn't move.

"Coulter?" Adrian asked.

"You go," he whispered.
 
"I'll stay."

"They'll kill you," Adrian said.

"I can't," Coulter whispered.

Touched sent a beam of light their way.
 
Adrian pulled Coulter out of the way.
 
The light went through the door and started a small fire in the Dirt Circle.

"Now," Adrian said.

"No," Coulter said.

Then Adrian understood.
 
Coulter had spent his entire life in grayness.
 
He couldn't handle the smells, the colors, the sounds.
 

But he had no choice.

Adrian wrapped himself around the boy, protecting Coulter's eyes, and jumped through the Circle Door.
 
They landed in the Dirt Circle, near the fire, and Adrian rolled away from it, holding Coulter's head to protect it.

The Circle Door winked closed, but the lights around it started flashing again a moment later.
 
Adrian knew what that meant.
 
Touched was coming through.

But they were on Adrian's turf now.

He didn't have time to enjoy the sunlight or the birds or the fresh air.
 
He picked up Coulter who was shivering and plowed through the trees away from the road, heading toward the gurgling river.
 
The river was deep here, but they could follow its edge into Jahn.
 
The Fey were sometimes linear thinkers.
 
They might try the road first, which would give Coulter and Adrian some extra time.

Coulter's terror was as strong as it had been in the Warders' cabin.
 
"Stay with me," Adrian whispered as he clung to the boy.
 
"You'll be safe as long as you're with me."

Coulter said nothing.
 
He kept his face buried in Adrian's shoulder. The strong, powerful child Adrian had seen in Shadowlands had been replaced by a tiny terrified boy.
 

Adrian hoped he could keep his promise as he slipped down the embankment toward the river.
 
They only had one chance to survive — and all of it rested on Adrian's wit, and his five-year-old memories of Blue Isle.

FORTY-SEVEN

The gates to the Tabernacle were open.
 
Stowe cursed under his breath.
 
The fools.
 
They should have had guards everywhere, and locks on all the doors.
 
That way, if the Fey wanted in, they would have to work at it.

In fact, if he were planning for a Fey attack, he would have vials of holy water rigged to spill on anyone who passed through.
 
The Islander visitors would be angry but fine, and the Fey ones would die.

Simple as that.

But he had not been planning for such an attack until sundown.
 
That was when Nicholas finally gave him permission to round up the guards.

Monte had given fifteen of his best men.
 
Monte had wanted to come along, but Stowe wouldn't let him.
 
Confident as Nicholas was about his relationship with the Fey, it didn't seem quite right.
 
Stowe lacked that confidence.
 
He felt that the person behind Alexander's murder might kill Nicholas as well.

The chances were less now that Jewel was dead, but they still existed.
 
With Nicholas gone, the children still babies, the entire Isle would be thrown into chaos.
 
If Nicholas didn't want to prepare for such a contingency, Stowe would.
 
After all, he would be the one left to clean up the mess.

The wind was off the river, cool and smelling faintly of damp ground.
 
The full moon provided more light than Stowe had planned on — he wondered if any of the Auds were watching him and the guards.
 
If so, they were doing nothing about the large group just standing outside the wall.
 
Stowe continued to stand for a moment longer as a test, hoping that someone would emerge, anyone who would tell him to go away.

No one did.

They left the gates open and did not monitor who came in and out.
 
He would wager that once he crossed the courtyard, he would find the main doors unlocked and unguarded as well.

Matthias should have ordered protection.
 
After the attack the night before, he should have known what was going to happen.
 
But Matthias had gotten careless since he became Rocaan, almost as if he felt he weren't worthy of the position, and he was strongly disliked.
 
No Elder would countermand Matthias's orders to protect him, like Stowe would do for Nicholas.

Right now, Nicholas needed protecting.
 
He was doing well, considering.
 

Considering.

But now was not a time to do marginally well.
 
Now was the most crucial time of Nicholas's kingship.
 
Everything rested on the next few days.

If Matthias died, the kingdom died.
 
Nicholas didn't realize that.
 
Nicholas, in his own way, was expendable.
 
Matthias had ensured that he was not.

Torches burned over all the windows and over the double doors.
 
Faint curlicues of smoke rose toward the moon.
 
The torches burned every night, leaving scorch marks on the whitewash.
 
Stowe used to come here as a boy and peer over the wall, watching the Auds go through their morning rituals.
 
He had always wanted to be part of the Tabernacle, but he could not.

He was the eldest son.
 
It had been his lot to become Lord Stowe.
 
His younger brother had been forced into the religion.
 
Last Stowe heard, his brother was an Aud in the Snow Mountains where the discipline among the Rocaanists was lax.
 
His brother had hated the church as much as Stowe had loved it.
 
If only they had been able to change roles.
 
But rules were rules, as his father used to say, and existed for reasons that were beyond the ken of normal men.

Stowe agreed with that.

The Fey's arrival had violated his sense of rules, of fairness, and continued to do so.
 
He admired Nicholas's ability to flow with the changes, and knew such an ability was necessary, but wished Nicholas also knew when to apply hard and strict rules on everything.

Like now.
 
If Nicholas had given more than a begrudging permission, he would have made it easier for Stowe to bring his guards into the Tabernacle.
 
Stowe faced a long discussion with either an Elder or with Matthias himself.
 
Stowe was half worried that Matthias would throw them out after his little scene with Nicholas that afternoon.