The Iron Knight (14 page)

But the Wolf snorted. “You’re in the Deep Wyld now, boy,” he growled. “This is the place of old legends and forgotten myths. The hobyahs are alive and well here, and there are a lot of them, if you can’t guess by looking at the tracks.”

Glancing down, I saw he was right. Three-toed prints were scattered haphazardly in the mud between rocks—small, light tracks with claws on the end of the toes. Here and there a blade of grass was crushed or trampled, and a strong musky odor lingered in the air.

The Wolf sneezed and shook his head, curling his lips in disgust. “Let’s keep moving. I can’t track anything past this abominable smell.”

“Wait,” I ordered, and dropped to a knee in the grass at the water’s edge, brushing the trampled vegetation. Hobyah
prints were everywhere, but there was a shallow indentation in the grass that faintly resembled …

“A body,” I muttered, as the Wolf peered over my shoulder. “There was a body lying here, on its stomach. Not a hobyah, either. My size.”

“Are you sure?” the Wolf growled. Lowering his muzzle, he sniffed the spot I pointed to and sneezed again, shaking his head. “
Pah,
I can’t smell anything but hobyah stink.”

“They had it surrounded,” I mused, seeing the scene in my mind. “It must have come out of the water, pulled itself onto the bank, then collapsed here. No, not just one.” I ran my fingers over the grass. “There was another one here. Two of them. The hobyahs probably found them when they were passed out.”

“Hobyahs aren’t anyone’s friends,” the Wolf said gravely. “And they eat almost everything. There might not be anything left once we catch up.”

I ignored the Wolf, though a cold rage burned deep in my stomach, making me want to put my sword through some creature’s head. As I followed the tracks farther up the bank, more of the scene played out before me. “They dragged them away,” I continued, pointing at a spot where the grass was flattened and bent in one direction, “into the forest.”

“Impressive,” the Wolf growled, coming to stand beside me. “And unfortunate, considering those two are now at the mercy of bloodthirsty cannibals.” He sniffed and gazed into the dark tangle of trees. “I suppose this means we are going after them.”

Relief, swift and sudden, bloomed through me. They were still alive. Captured perhaps, in danger of being tortured or killed, but for now, they were alive. I shot the Wolf a cold stare.

“What do you think?”

He bared his fangs at me. “Be careful, boy. In some tales, the hero gets eaten by the monster after all.”

T
RACKING THE HOBYAHS
through the dark, eerie forest proved easier than following the river. They didn’t bother to cover their tracks, and their greasy odor clung to every leaf and twig and blade of grass they stepped on or brushed by.

The trail led us deep into the woods, until at last, the ground sloped away and we were staring down into a shallow basin filled with swampy water. Thatch huts stood on wooden stilts over the murk, and long spears standing point up in the mud held an assortment of rib cages, rotting carcasses and severed heads.

Small, pale creatures like those from the riverbank swarmed the village like ants whose nest had been invaded. They barely came up to my knee. Along with their dark cloaks and hoods, many of them wore thin spears that looked to be made of bone.

The Wolf growled and shifted beside me. “Disgusting things, hobyahs. And they taste even worse than they look.” He turned to me. “What are you going to do now, little prince?”

“I have to find Puck and Ariella, if they’re down there.”

“Hmm. Perhaps they are in that pot.”

An enormous kettle hung on stilts in the middle of the camp, with a crackling fire underneath. Noxious black fumes came from whatever was in the pot, and I shook my head. “No,” I mused, dismissing that notion immediately. “Both of them are too smart to end up like that.”

“If you say so,” the Wolf mused as we circled the camp. “I hope your faith in those two does not get you killed.”

“There you are!” hissed an impatient voice above my head.
“Where have you been? I was beginning to think the dog had eaten you after all.”

The Wolf snarled and spun around, craning his neck at the tree, where Grimalkin peered at us from a branch safely out of reach. “I’ve grown tired of your insults, cait sith,” he challenged, eyes blazing with pure hatred. “Come down here and say that. I’ll rip that arrogant tongue right out of your head. I’ll crush your skull in my teeth, tear the hide off your useless feline skeleton and eat your heart.”

His voice was getting louder with each threat. I put a hand on his huge shoulder and shoved, hard. “Quiet!” I warned as he turned with a snarl. “You’ll alert the camp. There’s no time for this now.”

“A wise statement,” Grimalkin replied, giving the Wolf a lazy, half-lidded stare. “And the prince is correct, much as I would enjoy watching you chase your tail and bark at the moon.” The Wolf growled again, but the cat ignored him, looking at me. “Goodfellow and the seer are being held in one of the inner huts, still unconscious, I believe. The hobyah shaman is keeping them in a drugged sleep—so much easier to put them in the kettle when the time comes. They have been waiting for it to get hot enough, but I believe it is very nearly ready.”

“Then we need to move fast.” Crouching, I looked over the camp again but spoke to the Wolf. “I’m going to sneak around the back. Do you think you can create a big enough diversion for me to find the others and get out of there?”

The Wolf bared his teeth in a savage grin. “I think I can come up with something.”

“Wait for my signal, then. Grimalkin—” I looked to the cait sith, who blinked calmly “—show me where they are.”

We crept around the outskirts of the camp, moving soundlessly
through the trees and marshy undergrowth, until Grimalkin stopped at the edge of the basin and sat down.

“There,” he said, nodding to the left side of the camp. “The shaman’s hut is the second one from the rotting tree. The one with the torches and the chicken feet strung across the entrance.”

“All right,” I murmured, staring at the hut. “I’ll take it from here. You should hide—” But Grimalkin was already gone.

I closed my eyes and drew my glamour to me, creating a cloak of shadows that the light would shy away from. As long as I didn’t make any noise or draw attention to myself, glances would slide past me and torchlight would not penetrate my fabricated darkness.

With the glamour cloak in place, I walked down the slope into the swampy basin.

The smells here were foul and potent; rancid water, putrid carcasses, rotting fish and the oily, reptilian stench of the hobyahs themselves. They hissed and snarled at each other in their garbled, burbled language, punctuated by one recognizable word:
hobyah.
Probably how they got their name. Moving from shadow to shadow, being careful not to slosh the warm swamp water that soaked my legs, I made my way to the shaman’s hut. Chanting sounds and a thick, pungent smoke drifted past the veil of chicken feet at the doorway. Silently drawing my sword, I eased inside.

The interior of the tiny shack reeked of a foul incense, stinging my eyes and scratching the back of my throat. A squat, potbellied hobyah sat beside one wall on a pile of animal skins, chanting and waving a burning stick over a pair of limp figures. Puck and Ariella, sprawled out on the dirty hut floor, their faces pale and slack, hands and feet bound with yellow vines. The shaman jerked his head up as I came in, and hissed in alarm.

Quick as lightning, he lunged for his staff, standing in the corner, but I was faster. Just as his claw closed on the gnarled wood, an icicle shard hit him from behind. It should have killed him, but he turned and shrieked something at me, rattling the bones atop his staff. I felt a ripple of some dark glamour go through the air, and lunged forward, slashing with my blade. The shaman’s mouth opened, and he spit something at me, an acidic yellow substance that burned my skin where it hit, right before the blade struck home. He screamed a death cry and dissolved into a pile of squirming snakes and frogs. One down, but the other hobyahs would not be far behind.

My skin tingled and was starting to go numb where the shaman’s spittle had landed, but I couldn’t focus on that now. Kneeling beside Ariella, I cut her bonds and drew her into my arms.

“Ari,” I whispered urgently, tapping her cheek. Her skin was cold to the touch, and even though that was normal for Winter fey, my stomach twisted. “Ari, wake up. Come on, look at me.”

I pressed two fingers to the pulse at her throat, but at that moment she stirred and her eyelids fluttered. Relief shot through me like an arrow, and I resisted the urge to hug her close. Opening her eyes, she jerked when she saw me, and I pressed my finger to her lips. “Just me,” I whispered, as her eyes widened. “We have to get out of here. Quietly.”

A shriek came from the entrance of the hut. A hobyah stood there, red eyes wide as he stared at us. I hurled an ice dagger at him, but he darted away, hissing, and fled into the camp. Cries of alarm and rage echoed beyond the door, and then came the sound of many bodies rushing toward us through the water.

I cursed and lunged upright, grabbing my sword. “Get Puck on his feet,” I called to Ariella, crossing the floor to the
entrance. “We’re leaving now!” The first hobyah rushed into the shack, saw me, and lunged with a howl, stabbing his spear at my knee. My sword flashed down and sent the hobyah’s head rolling toward the corner, before both parts dissolved into a pile of writhing salamanders. Another darted through and hurled its spear at my face. I ducked the projectile and sent one of my own at the hobyah. The ice shard hit it square between the eyes and it slithered away in a tangle of snakes and lampreys.

Stepping outside, deliberately blocking the entrance to the hut, I raised my sword and met the horde of hobyahs swarming me from every direction. “Hobyah!” they screeched as they rushed me. “Hobyah hobyah hobyah!” Spears flew at me, though I managed to dodge or block most of them, lashing out at any hobyah that got too close. The pile of newts, frogs and snakes grew at my feet, but there were always more attackers, more hobyahs dropping from the trees, erupting from the water, or climbing over the roof to leap at my back.

A huge black bird suddenly exploded from the hut behind me in a flurry of wings and feathers. With an enraged
caw,
it plunged down, sank its talons into a hobyah and carried it high into the trees, the hobyah struggling and howling in its grip. The others hissed and snarled, craning their necks to follow it as Ariella stepped out beside me.

“I assume there’s a plan?” she asked, pale but calm as a mass of frogs and snakes suddenly rained down from the trees. Puck dropped onto the roof of the hut with a crash, daggers already in hand. I smiled at Ariella.

“Always.” As the swarm of hobyahs began edging forward again, I put two fingers in my mouth and blew out a piercing whistle.

A sudden, haunting howl echoed it. The hobyahs cringed, spinning around, their eyes going wide with fear.

The Wolf hurled himself into the midst of the hobyahs with a roar that shook the ground, and the creatures screamed in panic. “Dog!” they shrieked, throwing up their hands and running about in terror. “Dog! Dog!”

The Wolf bared his teeth. “I. Am not.
A dog!
” he roared, and lunged for the nearest hobyah, grabbing it by the head and shaking it viciously.

I took Ariella’s hand and pulled her away, Puck close behind and muttering curses. The hobyahs didn’t try to stop us. Together, we fled the camp, hearing the Wolf’s roars and the hobyah’s squeals of panic echo behind us.

“A
SH
,” A
RIELLA SAID
, grabbing my arm, “wait! We’re not being followed. Stop for a moment, please.”

I staggered to a halt, ignoring the urge to put my hand against the nearest tree to stop the ground from spinning. The chaos in the hobyah village had long faded behind us, but I’d wanted to get as far from the creatures as possible, in case they decided to come after us once more. If the Wolf left any alive.

My chest and shoulder still burned where the hobyah shaman had spat on me. Ignoring the pain crawling down my back, I leaned against a cool, mossy trunk and gazed around, trying to get my bearings. The trees here were giant, ancient things, and you could almost feel their eyes on you, cold and unamused by the intruders in their midst.

“Well, that was all kinds of fun.” Puck blew out a breath and raked a hand through his hair. “Just like old times. Except for the whole getting drugged and having to be rescued thing. That’s gonna sting later, I just know it.” Groaning, he sat on a nearby rock, rubbing a bruise on his shoulder. “Nice of you to come after us, ice-boy,” he drawled. “If I didn’t know better by now, I’d almost think you cared.”

I forced a smirk in his direction. “It wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying if I didn’t get to kill you myself,” I replied, and Puck grinned.

A cool hand touched my cheek. I looked up into Ariella’s concerned gaze. “Are you all right?” she asked, placing the other palm on my forehead. I closed my eyes against the softness. “You’re burning up. What happened?”

“You smell sick, prince,” the Wolf growled, coming out of nowhere. “Like weakness. You won’t make it to the End of the World like that.”

“The shaman,” I replied. “He … spit on me. Did something to me, I think.” The burning in my chest and shoulder had gone numb and was now spreading throughout my body. I realized I could no longer feel my arm.

“Hobyah venom is hallucinogenic,” the Wolf continued, curling his lip. “You’re in for an interesting night, little prince, if you wake up at all.”

The trees were beginning to move strangely, centuries-old giants swaying like willows. I squeezed my eyes shut to clear the visions, and when I opened them again, I was lying on my back while tiny lights danced and swirled over my head.

Someone’s face bent over me, starlight eyes filled with worry. She was beautiful, a vision come to life. But she was fading, growing dimmer and dimmer, until only her eyes were left, staring at me. Then they blinked, and the world cut out altogether.