Labyrinth, Page 4

  “Yes. I thought you were referring to hobbits, but you had no idea what I was talking about.”

  “Right. I still don’t. Anyway, do you remember me saying that halflings have unpredictable magic and some of them do crazy stuff like try to take over the world?”

  Nate snorts, then makes a valiant effort to keep a straight face. “Sorry. Yes, I remember.”

  I sigh. “Now what?”

  “Nothing.” But he seems unable to keep the grin from creeping back onto his face. “You just sound like this old cartoon character who always wanted to take over the world. But that’s, um, obviously not important right now. Sorry. Go on.”

  I wait a moment, to make sure he’s listening, then continue. “So, there was this half-human, half-faerie named Tharros Mizreth—”

  “Jeez, try saying that five times in a row without getting your tongue twisted,” says Nate. I glare at him, and he mimes locking his lips shut.

  “Anyway, not all halflings have magic, but it was clear from early on that Tharros possessed enormous power. Way more than any ordinary faerie or halfling. Basically, to cut a long history lesson short, he tried to gain control of a number of human cities, and in the process manipulated and killed many fae and humans. This—” I tap the metal disc on my knee “—was the symbol Tharros used to represent himself.”

  Nate frowns. “How did my mother end up with a halfling’s symbol?”

  “And how did she end up with a book of faerie poetry?” Nate doesn’t answer, turning his head instead to watch the water flowing past us. “I was thinking that perhaps she’s descended from Tharros’s human side,” I say, “and the disc was passed down to her.”

  “Mm,” says Nate. He looks back at me. “So what happened to this Tharros guy?”

  “A number of Guilds throughout the world got their best guardians together and they eventually took him out. This was a few centuries ago.”

  Nate looks mildly surprised. “Your Guild isn’t the only one?”

  “No. There are quite a few.” From the corner of my eye, I see the water is almost gone. “The Guilds are all situated near areas where dangerous fae seem to congregate. Like what we, in Creepy Hollow, refer to as Underground.”

  “Which is where we are right now,” says Nate.

  “I think so.”

  “Do you go Underground for assignments?”

  “Hell, no. It’s way too dangerous. Teams of fully trained guardians come down here sometimes to take care of certain things, but trainees are never sent. It’s not like we’re forbidden to go Underground, but I get the impression we’d be in trouble if we did and the Guild found out.”

  The last of the water trickles away, leaving a thin layer of wet mud on the stone floor. I let go of the shield and it ripples, then disappears with a pop. I stand up. It’s a relief to stretch my legs out.

  I conjure up another ball of light, and we continue down the tunnel. We reach a fork and take the left-hand path after I check Angelica’s location once more. Several minutes pass, and the tunnel begins to smell as though something died in it. I’m just beginning to get nervous about the kind of dead body we might come across, when we round a corner and almost smack into the backside of a troll.

  The troll is enormous and hunched over, way too big for this tunnel. He clutches a wooden log in his massive fist. I take a hasty step backward as he swivels to face us. I reach for a sword, knowing from previous experience that my arrows can barely pierce a troll’s skin.

  “What do you want me to do?” whispers Nate, his hands raised in fists as though he intends to box with the troll. Before I can answer—or laugh—the troll raises the log and swings it down at us. I jump out of the way and slash at his arm. The blade makes contact, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He advances on us, swinging the log back and forth, sending us back the way we came. Dammit, I need to stun this guy or we’ll never get past him.

  “Keep him occupied,” I tell Nate before letting go of my sword and running back down the tunnel.

  “What?” yells Nate. “You’re leaving me?”

  “I need time!” I shout back over my shoulder.

  I stop somewhere around the corner in a darkened crevice. Okay, focus. I breathe in slowly, drawing power from deep within me. As much power as I can get, as quickly as I can get it. Purple sparks ignite between my hands, jumping and swirling in a ball of magic that grows larger and larger. Come on, come on. I need a lot to take out a troll. Way more than I should probably be using up right now.

  “Violet!” I would have expected the troll to be around the corner by now, but whatever Nate’s doing to distract him, it’s working. “How much more time do you need?”

  Come on, come on. “Come ON,” I groan out loud. The troll rounds the corner, and for a moment I think Nate has disappeared. But then I see him, balanced on one of the troll’s shoulders, his hands twisted in the troll’s greasy hair. The troll roars and swings his arms about, as though trying to swat a fly, but Nate dodges easily.

  With as much force as I can muster, I throw the magic at the troll. The purple light hits him directly in the center of his stomach, just as Nate leaps off his shoulder and onto the ground. The troll lets out a loud grunt. His black eyes glaze over, and he sways slightly before toppling onto the ground. The impact sends a shudder through the stone tunnel.

  Nate, breathing hard, turns to look at me. “You could have at least left me with a weapon before you ran off.”

  “Sorry. Guardian weapons only work for guardians.” I run a hand through my hair as I walk over to him. “Besides, you seem to have handled it well enough without a weapon. How did you get up on his shoulder?”

  Nate surveys the fallen troll. “Well, uh, when his arm came down to hit me, I jumped onto it and pulled myself up. I honestly thought he’d whack me right off, but I guess it worked.”

  I stand on tiptoe and kiss Nate’s cheek. “Well done,” I say with a grin. “And sorry I ran off. It’s just that it takes some time to draw enough power to stun someone, especially someone the size of a troll, and I couldn’t exactly do it while fending him off.” I step up onto the troll’s giant leg and begin climbing over him. “That’s the reason we don’t stun while fighting,” I explain. “There’s no time to stop and gather all that power.” We jump down onto the other side. “Gross,” I say, holding the back of my hand up to my nose. “He smells like a dead frog.”

  Nate wipes his hands on his jeans. “And he really needs to wash his hair.”

  After that, I keep one of my sparkling guardian knives in my hand, ready to throw it at the first thing that moves. But we don’t come across any other creature because around the next corner the tunnel comes to an abrupt end. Bright light pours out of an archway. An archway that opens into a large chamber. And sitting at a desk just inside the chamber, is a woman.

  Ornate hangings decorate the chamber walls, and the floor is a mosaic of giant stone tiles. Colors and shapes swirl lazily within the tiles, some looking disturbingly like faces. Plants that must be kept alive by magic line the walls, and a cage of twittering birds hangs in one corner. In the center of the chamber, behind the desk the woman is sitting at, a stairway spirals from floor to ceiling.

  The woman doesn’t notice us standing motionless in her doorway. Instead, she stares at a book spread open on her desk. She’s dressed in white, with long sleeves that reach almost to the tips of her fingers. Elaborate silver jewelry curls around her neck. Her black hair is tainted with strands of gray, which seems strange to me because, from where I stand, I can’t see a single wrinkle on her flawless face.

  I let go of my knife. Its fiery disappearance into the air catches her attention. Her head snaps up, and the moment I see her eyes, I know something isn’t right.

  “Nathaniel,” she breathes as she rises from the desk in one fluid movement. “I so hoped you would find me one day.”

  Her eyes are bright silver, and I realize then that her hair isn’t grey. It is, of course, also silver. And that can only mea
n one thing. “Nate.” I grab his hand to pull him back. “This isn’t your mother.”

  Her gaze flicks immediately to me. “And why do you say that? Because I am a faerie?”

  “Uh, yes.” Clearly not a very intelligent one. “In case you haven’t noticed, the boy standing beside me is human.”

  “Right. A human who can see past glamours and travel safely through faerie paths. In case you haven’t noticed, little faerie girl, the boy standing beside you is a halfling.”

  A halfling.

  No, that’s crazy. Crazy. But then . . . it actually makes a lot of sense. Crap. I hate being wrong. I look at Nate. His mouth is hanging open, but he seems unable to make any sound come out.

  “A halfling without magic, of course,” adds Angelica. “I would have felt it when he was young if he had any power.”

  “Would you?” I counter. “From what I hear, you only stuck around for a few months.”

  “Have you seen him display any power?” she asks immediately. “If you have, I’d love to hear about it.”

  And, once again, it seems she’s right. Damn. I don’t like this woman, and it’s not just because she proved me wrong and called me ‘little faerie girl’. It’s something about the power I can feel radiating from her. It’s cold, like a breath of glacial air.

  “Wait,” says Nate, finally finding his voice. “I’m . . . I’m a . . .”

  “A half-faerie, half-human,” says Angelica, her expression softening as she looks at her son. She flicks her hand and the desk dissolves into a puff of smoke, revealing bare feet at the ends of her loose white trousers. She takes a step toward us, then stops when Nate holds his hand up.

  “Why did you leave?” he asks.

  “I didn’t. Not by choice, anyway. I was taken. I’ve been trapped down here ever since.”

  Liar. “I saw you on the other side of the cliff,” I tell her. “When Drake and Zell were pulling their crazy hangman stunt.”

  “Yes, that was me,” she admits. “But it was only a projection of me. I can’t physically leave this chamber.”

  “Then why have you never projected yourself into my home?” asks Nate.

  “I can only project myself within the fae realm.”

  How convenient.

  “And what about Drake and Zell?” asks Nate, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why did they want to see you so badly?”

  Angelica’s eyes drop to the floor, and she pauses before answering. Probably busy concocting some fantastical story. “Would you like to sit down?” she asks. She spreads her arm to the side and three seats appear. They’re woven from thin, flexible branches, and shaped like hollow eggs cut in half. A cord of rope attaches each one to the ceiling. “I can explain everything to you,” she says.

  I don’t want to sit on anything conjured up by this woman, but Nate seems willing to listen to her. He fits himself carefully into one of the half eggs, and I perch on the edge of another. My hands and mind are ready to reach for a weapon at the slightest hint of danger.

  “I’d never had anything to do with Drake or Zell before they contacted me via a projection recently,” says Angelica. “They had somehow found out about a certain magical item of great power—an item I own—and they wanted to buy it from me. I told them it was not for sale, and refused to meet with them again. But they were determined, and as you had the misfortune to discover, Nathaniel, they decided to use you to force a deal with me. I cast an enchantment over them that should have prevented them from ever finding you, but Zell must have got around it. Fortunately, your friend here—” she nods at me “—managed to save you. I haven’t heard from Zell since.”

  Nate says nothing for a while, then mutters, “No one calls me Nathaniel.”

  Well, clearly it’s up to me to ask the important questions. “Who trapped you here in the first place,” I ask, “and why?”

  Angelica manages to tear her eyes away from Nate, lifting her chin slightly as she looks at me. “A faerie of the Unseelie Court. He extended part of the Underground to build this labyrinth. He filled it with horrible creatures and destructive magic, and enchanted the walls to keep everything in.” A hint of pride enters Angelica’s voice, as though she admires the lunatic faerie who locked her in here. It sends a shiver right down to my feet. “In the center of this labyrinth,” she continues, “in this very chamber, he locked away those who refused to do his bidding. The reason I ended up here was because I would not give him the item of power I possessed. He was killed before I could negotiate my freedom.”

  Her voice never wavers, and neither does her gaze, but I find myself unwilling to believe her. After all, she could say just about anything and we’d never know if she was lying. “And what exactly is this item of power?”

  “You’ve heard of the halfling Tharros?”

  Nate looks up, but I speak before he can say anything. “Yes, of course. He’s in all the history books.”

  “While he was alive he transferred part of his power into several inanimate objects—weapons, jewelry, whatever—so that if he was ever drained of his magic he would have other immediate sources of power to draw from. After he died, some of these objects still had power in them. The one I have is a metal disc with a griffin on it.”

  I grip Nate’s hand tightly, trying to signal to him to keep his mouth shut, and rush on. “Where did you get this disc?”

  “That, my dear, is none of your business.” She turns to Nate, reaching her hand out to him. Her sleeve falls back to reveal black lines curling across her wrist.

  “You’re a guardian?” I blurt out.

  She looks down at the markings. “I was,” she says, offering no other explanation. “Nathaniel,” she says gently. “I need your help.” When Nate doesn’t reply, she continues. “This powerful item, the piece of metal with the griffin on it, can help me get out of here. I left it in our home. You need to ask your father where it is. Then you can bring it back to me and I’ll be free.”

  Nate sits back in the chair and meets his mother’s eyes. “Is that the only reason you were hoping I’d find you?” he asks. “Did it have nothing to do with the fact that I’m your son and, I don’t know, maybe you missed me?”

  “Nathaniel, of course I missed you. I love—”

  “I’m not sure I believe you,” he says. Well, that makes two of us.

  They stare at each other, neither one blinking. Angelica’s silver eyes harden.

  “Perhaps we should go, Nate,” I say quietly.

  Angelica pierces me with her silver glare. “And who, exactly, are you?” she demands. “I don’t remember you introducing yourself.”

  “That’s because I didn’t. Well done for remembering.”

  Nate sighs. “Her name is Violet.”

  Angelica’s eyes narrow. Her gaze moves all the way down to my toes and back up again. It’s more than a little creepy. “Well, well, well,” she whispers. “Little Violet. Tell me, how exactly did you meet my son?”

  “It’s not little Violet,” I say. “It’s just Violet. Or, if you’d really like to piss me off, you could call me Pixie Sticks.”

  She doesn’t appear to be listening to me anymore though. She’s staring at nothing, her eyes glazed over as if seeing some invisible scene. “Perfect,” she whispers. She snaps back to the present with a blink and slowly rises from her seat. “I think a change of plan is in order,” she says.

  She whips her hand to the side and the branches beneath me melt into nothing. I’m startled for a second, but recover almost immediately. I twist as I hit the floor, roll onto my knees, and spring to my feet. A knife glows in my clenched fist. Angelica’s a split second ahead of me though, and the tangle of branches she sat on just moments before hurtles toward me. I duck out of the way and throw the knife at her. She deflects its path with a silver spark of magic and jumps aside as the seat swings back toward her.

  “Stop!” Nate shouts.

  Angelica runs at me, faster than I would have thought possible. I drop to the floor at the la
st second and send her over my shoulder. But she somersaults in the air, spinning and kicking me in the back. I sprawl across the floor and feel her land on top of me. She pins my arms behind my back.

  Well, this is embarrassing. I haven’t found myself in a position like this in years.

  “What the hell are you doing?” shouts Nate.

  “What I’ve been waiting years to do,” mutters Angelica as she struggles with my arms. She leans down and whispers a single word in my ear: “Revenge.” Which makes zero sense, since I’ve never done anything to this woman.

  “You want that disc thing?” asks Nate, sounding desperate. “Fine. You can have it. It’s—”

  “Nate!” I yell at him. “Stop talking!” Perhaps Nate doesn’t see it this way, but I’m thinking it’s a bad idea to give the woman who just attacked me a magical object that will only make her stronger.

  “Listen to me, Nathaniel.” Angelica’s voice is surprisingly gentle. “I’m going to send you back up to Creepy Hollow to find Violet’s parents. Tell them that I’ve got her, and get them to come back here with you. They’ll know exactly what I want.”

  What? I stop struggling. How does she know . . . No. I stop the thought before it can go further. Now isn’t the time to ponder whether this crazy woman knew my parents. “Sorry to ruin your plan, Angie,” I say through clenched teeth, “but my parents are dead.” Angelica pauses. She obviously wasn’t expecting that. “Yup, sorry,” I continue. “You’ve obviously got the wrong Violet.”

  Angelica twists my arms behind me until I let out a grunt of pain. “Your parents are dead, huh?” she says. “Well, I suppose everyone gets what they deserve in the end.”

  That’s it. Wherever the line is, she just crossed it.

  I rip my arms out of her grasp, push hard against the floor, and throw her off my back. I jump at the hollow seat that still swings from the ceiling, pull myself on top of it, and lift my hand behind me. Holding onto the rope with my other hand, I release magic in the form of a gust of air, sending the seat flying across the chamber.