Rise of the Darklings (15 page)

T
he walls inside the tree were smooth and polished, the grain of the wood teased and coaxed into subtle patterns and pictures. Emily didn’t notice them at first, so slight were the variations in the wood. It was only when they walked past a golden lamp that she caught a glimpse of spirals and strange runes.

She stopped to get a better look. Corrigan reached up and grabbed hold of her hand. “What are you doing? The Queen knows we’re here. She’s not someone you keep waiting.”

He led them through the huge tree trunk, along corridors and up wide staircases. Every now and then they passed a window, and Emily would strain to catch a glance outside.

They passed more of the fey, most of them tall and
aristocratic—taller, even, than a normal person. Their clothing was light and colorful, flowing behind and around them as if on a breeze. Their long, thin fingers constantly smoothed the material into pleasing creases.

The fey looked down at Corrigan and Emily as they passed, their pale faces radiating distaste and curiosity in equal measures. Corrigan glared at them, and Emily heard him muttering something about “stuck-up fancy-pants.”

After a while, they heard music. It was faint at first, the distant song of a violin. Then a piano joined the violin, forming a sad and mournful tune. Corrigan seemed to grow nervous, fidgeting and looking around anxiously.

He led them into another passage. This golden tunnel was empty but for two tall fey standing beside a large double door. They wore armor made of polished wood and had white hair that was braided down their backs.

“Who are they?” whispered Emily. “They look different from the others.”

“The Tuatha de Danaan. The aristocracy. The Queen’s soldiers.” He paused and turned to Emily. “Don’t say anything rude. All right?”

Emily drew herself up, offended. “I’m not rude.”

Corrigan raised his hands in surrender. “Right. Fine. Of course not. Then don’t say anything … 
plain
. Just … hold your tongue.”

As they walked down the passage, the music became louder, and Emily could hear the sound of laughter.

Corrigan stopped before the two guards. They didn’t even look down. Emily stood nervously behind him.

“Hoy,” he called.

No response. Emily frowned. They were doing it on purpose. She knew their type. Nothing but bullies.

“Excuse me,” she said icily. “I believe we are to see your Queen.”

The music stopped in the room beyond the door. The fey looked down at her. Their eyes were the blackest pitch with small white pupils. Emily had seen the same coloring on the eyes of some of the other fey, but on the Queen’s guards the effect was much more disconcerting. She could see no emotion there. Just cold, hard … 
emptiness
.

“What did I say?” Corrigan whispered furiously. “Didn’t I say to keep your big mouth shut?”

“But all—”

Before she could finish, the fey guards stepped aside. Now Emily could see the doors clearly for the first time. There was a pattern carved into the surface, standing out against the wood in heavy relief. The carving was of a hill, and on top of the hill were seven trees, spaced evenly around its crown. Inside this circle of trees, faeries and goblins, gnomes and piskies danced under the sun.

A second later, the doors swung silently inward. When Emily saw what was in the room beyond, she took a nervous step back.

She found herself looking into a vast ballroom, the floor a mosaic pattern of black and white. The fey stood around the edges of the room, dressed in fine clothes that were a hundred years out of date. They stared at Emily and Corrigan, pale and cold, some with fans in front of their faces, others wearing masks carved to resemble woodland creatures: here a crow staring at her, there an owl with black eyes glinting behind the holes, and a rat with a golden glance.

Around these tall, graceful creatures were an assortment of other fey. Some she had seen already—the strange people with their backs hollowed out, creatures with the heads of foxes. But there were others, as well. Tiny creatures rode around the chamber on the backs of squirrels and rats. Some of them flew on robins and hawks around the high rafters. Creatures slightly taller than Corrigan served drinks among the gentry. The servers were old and wizened, like older versions of Alfrig and Mrs. and Mr. Stintle.

“You will enter,” said a voice, and Emily found herself obeying even before she knew what she was doing. She walked past the ranks of the fey, their eyes following her every step. She looked down at her feet and noticed how tatty her shoes were compared to everything else around
her. She shouldn’t be walking on such fine tiles dressed like this.

“Look upon me,” said the voice.

Emily looked up and saw the most beautiful woman she had ever laid eyes upon. The Fairie Queen was tall and pale, her hair the red of sunsets upon freshly fallen snow. Her eyes were golden, glowing with warmth and power. She wore a gown so light it floated about her, like spiderwebs on a breeze.

The Queen sat on a throne carved from dark wood and molded to her shape, so that she seemed to be a part of the carving. Emily heard giggling and saw that there were fey children behind the throne. They reached out to touch the Queen’s gown, stroking the fabric while staring at Emily and whispering amongst themselves.

“Corrigan. What news?”

Emily blinked and saw that Corrigan was down on his knees before the Queen. Emily hastily did the same, even though she hadn’t intended to. It seemed right, somehow.

“Good news, Queen Kelindria.”

There was a rustle of excitement among the courtiers. The Queen said nothing.

“We infiltrated the Dagda’s island. It was difficult going, my Queen. It took us many nights. But we regained the parchment.”

A murmur rippled through the room. The Queen smiled at Corrigan and held out her hand. Corrigan stood and quickly took the satchel from his back, removing the blank piece of parchment. The Queen took it with trembling fingers and held it up to the light, her eyes shining with excitement.

“You have done well, Corrigan.” The Queen focused her attention away from the parchment. “Am I right in assuming that this girl helped you?”

“She did, my Queen. But she also led the Invisible Order to Merrian’s shop. Ravenhill, of all people.”

The courtiers muttered angrily, some of them glaring at Emily. What had Corrigan said that for? That hadn’t been her fault. Why was he trying to get her into trouble?

“Is Merrian well?”

“I do not know. He held off the Order while we escaped to bring you the parchment.”

The Queen nodded, then turned to Emily. But before she could say anything, there was a commotion from somewhere behind her. Emily glanced over her shoulder to see what was going on.

Most of the courtiers had gathered behind Emily as she stood before the Queen. Now they quickly fell back as
darkness
flowed through their midst. It was the only way Emily could describe it. A dark form moved forward. Tendrils of shadow branched off from the heart of the blackness,
touching, feeling, probing anyone and anything that was unlucky enough to be close by. Emily stumbled aside, banging up against a pillar. She felt something against her leg and saw Corrigan standing behind her, watching the shadow with fearful eyes.

He looked up at Emily. “The Dark Man,” he whispered.

Emily’s eyes were drawn back to the shadowy mass as it stopped before the throne. The tendrils drew back toward the figure, receding to form a cloak and hood that totally enclosed his form, lending him human shape. At the Dark Man’s feet was a wretched-looking creature. He was about the size of a human male but looked vaguely elflike, with sharp features and pointed ears, and so skinny Emily thought he was in danger of snapping in two.

“Well met, Lieutenant,” said the Queen. “I see you found our traitor. Where was he hiding?”

The Dark Man spoke, but it seemed to Emily that his words entered her brain without going through her ears.

He was sheltering amongst our brethren on the continent
.

Queen Kelindria seemed surprised. “Really? I take it they did not know he had fallen from Our favor?”

They did not. I questioned them most carefully
.

The Queen’s mouth quirked in a smile. “I’m sure you did.” She waved a hand. “Take him away.”

The Dark Man nodded. The shadows spread out from
his body once again and enveloped both himself and his prisoner. When the elflike creature saw the tendrils creeping toward him, he cried out in fear. The shadows crawled across his face and over his mouth, muffling his scream.

A second later, the space before the Queen was empty. Emily looked around and saw shadows pool beneath a pillar, then the shadow crawled across the wall and slipped through the doorway.

The Queen turned her attention back to Emily. “Do not concern yourself with that. The elf was a traitor. He deserves everything he will get. But come. You will walk with me now, Emily Snow.”

You will walk with me
didn’t mean, as Emily thought it did, that she and the Queen would go for a walk on their own. Rather, it meant that the Queen and Emily would walk, and the whole court would trail along behind them, a long line of fey jostling for a position close to the front. The fey children trailed immediately behind Queen Kelindria, holding her dress and staring distrustfully at Emily.

They left the huge tree and descended into the city below. The twisted roots towered high on either side of them, rough walls with windows and doorways carved into the wood. Emily stared, distracted, until the Queen spoke.

“I wish to tell you something of our history, Emily. So you may see how important it is that you saved Corrigan’s life.”

The Queen called something to the guards up ahead. Emily didn’t understand a word she said. It sounded like small sticks clicking together while accompanied by a flute. Emily didn’t even think her mouth was capable of such sounds.

Two of the smaller roots veered off to the right, creating a smaller roadway. The guards led them down this path, away from the town.

“Do you know of the Dagda?” the Queen asked.

“Merrian said you and he used to be allies. But something happened.”

“Yes, you could say that,” said the Queen dryly. “The Dagda’s ambition has always been to conquer your people. He wants to bring the armies of Faerie through the doorway between our worlds and wipe you out. My people, the Seelie fey, have no desire for such a thing, so we fight to stop him and his followers. We have always wanted to live side by side with you. We think the world is large enough for both our races. But alas, a human called Christopher Wren did not agree. Do you know who he is?”

Emily shook her head.

“He was an architect. A scientist. And a very prominent member of the Invisible Order, as well as the Royal Society.
After the Great Fire of sixteen sixty-six, it was Wren who rebuilt most of London. He and his little secret society of murderers and sneaks were responsible for starting the last war between our races.”

The Queen fell silent.

“During the war, Wren and his Invisible Order somehow got hold of the key to Faerie and locked the door. Then he hid the key. Only he knew where it was, but there were rumors that he left clues to those who would follow him in the Order, should they ever have need of the key again. The parchment Corrigan brought to me is Wren’s first clue to the key’s whereabouts. We have been searching for it for the past two hundred years.”

“But … the parchment is blank.”

The Queen smiled. “Yes. Another of Wren’s precautions. There is an item that was stolen from us—the Stone of True Seeing, we called it—that we must retrieve from the Order. The stone sees through all falsehoods and enchantments. It can reveal things that are hidden. When the parchment is looked at through this stone, the hidden clue will be revealed.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, the stone is locked away under the Royal Society in a vault made of iron, and iron is one of our weaknesses. Its touch alone can kill us.”

The ground started to slope upward, and the Queen fell silent. As they climbed higher, Emily saw a small circle of
trees around the crown of the hill. There were seven of them, and except for one sickly looking tree, they were all dead.

The Queen stepped into the circle and gently touched the last surviving tree. As she did so, a withered leaf detached itself from a branch and drifted to the ground to join the decaying pile around the roots.

“This is all that’s left of the Twilight Court,” said the Queen, her beautiful face filled with regret. “These trees are from Faerie. Once upon a time, they were healthy, green. Now, they die.”

“Why are they dying?” Emily asked.

“We have been too long from our world. When the last of these trees die, our time will be at an end. That is why we seek the key. We wish to open up the doorway and travel back to our world before it is too late. For that was Wren’s plan, you see. To cut us off from our source of life and watch us wither away into dust.”