Black Lament Page 38
The lake had turned into a rushing river that was contained by a gorge. White stone cliffs rose high on either side of the water. We were tumbling through the water, pushed by the roaring current.
“Beezle!” I called. “Beezle!”
The swirls of water slammed us against the sides of the rock wall. I cried out as the jagged points bit through my shirt.
“Beezle!” I shouted again.
“Maddy!” He was behind us, flying above the surface of the water, trying to catch up.
The sound of water seemed to grow louder, and I looked ahead of us in dread as we were tossed about like garbage.
“Of course there’s a waterfall,” I muttered angrily as we sped toward the precipice and our certain doom. “Of course there’s a thrice-bedamned waterfall and I… have… had… ENOUGH!”
My magic burst out of me, hot and angry, and just like that, the river was gone.
Or rather, it wasn’t gone. Nathaniel and I stood in a dry riverbed, with the water crashing and pushing on either side without actually touching us. We were both soaked to the skin, and I was furious. I shook my fingers out of his grip.
“Enough games!” I shouted. “I want to see Titania and Oberon, NOW!”
Beezle came and landed on my shoulder just as the ground beneath our feet crumbled away.
We were falling through a long dark hole, and it was freezing. Rocks and debris tumbled through with us. Flying particles of dirt made it hard to breathe. The rapidity of our descent made it impossible to contemplate trying to fly. It seemed like the air was pushing down on us, making us fall faster and faster.
Beezle gripped my shoulder, digging in with his claws. “We’re going to die, we’re going to die,” he repeated over and over.
“We are not going to die!” I shouted, but I was starting to wonder about that. We seemed to be moving faster with every passing second.
“Madeline!” Nathaniel shouted, reaching for my hand again. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me to him, spreading his wings wide.
I automatically struggled against him, but he wrapped his other arm around me.
“Hold still,” he said through gritted teeth. “I am not trying to harm you. I am trying to slow us down.”
And indeed, I could feel our descent slowing by increments. Nathaniel seemed to be straining hard against the press of the air from above, using his wings both to slow us and to protect me from the crash of rocks. More than once I heard the thud of debris against his wings, and saw the flutter of white feathers torn asunder.
After a while we had slowed to a drift, and it was almost pleasant to float along in the air like a dandelion seed. Beezle’s death grip on my shoulder loosened.
The tunnel seemed just as long and endless as everything else in this place, but we finally reached the ground. Nathaniel touched down softly, putting me down with great care. His hands lingered at my shoulders.
“Are you well?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, feeling as awkward as I always did when he was kind to me. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “You are welcome.”
“Can we stop with the meaningful glances?” Beezle said. “There’s another tunnel, for Morningstar’s sake.”
I pulled away from Nathaniel and looked around. We were, indeed, standing in another tunnel. This one looked like it was part of a rabbit’s warren. It was just a path dug through the underground—dirt on all sides, exposed roots, worms and bugs crawling in and out.
It was just barely tall enough for Nathaniel to stand straight, and wide enough for two people. There were torches set at intervals along the path. The flickering flames cast strange shadows on the wall.
“What is it with faeries and their stupid games?” I asked, trudging forward. Shouting at the sky had gotten me nowhere.
“They’re old and have lots of time on their hands,” Beezle said, fluttering ahead of me.
“I just want you both to know now that I am in a bad mood and I’m probably going to say and do things that are impractical, impolitic or just plain stupid when we finally get to the court,” I said.
“We know,” Beezle said.
“I would not expect any less of you,” Nathaniel said.
“Because I can’t stand games. I cannot stand this stupid BS where they try to wear me out because they’re too cowardly to face me,” I said.
Cowardly?
The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. It was a part of the earth, but also a part of my own mind.
I stopped and glared down the tunnel. “Yes, cowardly. You’re afraid to face me so you’ve trying to run me like a rat in a cage.”
The king of Faerie fears nothing. Especially not Lucifer’s half-mortal whelp.
“More like a quarter-mortal, actually,” I said. “So if you’re not scared, then why are you putting me through my paces? You think you’ll break me? I’ve faced a lot worse than your pathetic illusion.”
Oh, really?
In the darkness, away from the light of the flames, something growled.
“You couldn’t wait to piss him off until we were out of the dangerous tunnel?” Beezle complained.
“I was trying to get us out of the dangerous tunnel by pissing him off,” I muttered, drawing my sword.
Beside me Nathaniel readied his magic. I shook my head at him. “You’ve got to let me handle this.”
“Lord Lucifer would have my head if I did not defend you.”