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When I’m twenty feet or so away I stop, unable to take another step. The darkness in that dark hole in the ground is alive, like the darkness was in the Fae lands. It’s throbbing and pulsing as if a heart beats beneath it. It holds my attention all while it feels like it wants to consume me. I’m torn, wanting to go into it and run away at the same time.
The raven caws but the sound is distant. Trembling I lift my foot, intent on stepping closer. The push-pull is intense and it’s as much an effort to move ahead as it is to retreat. The pull swells and I push my foot forward. I’m going to take the step. I’m going to see what is inside that void.
Blackness slaps into my face and the cawing of the raven screeches in my ears. Feathery wings beat on my face and sharp claws rake over my cheeks. I cry out in pain and surprise, throwing my arms up for protection, but the spell of the darkness is broken. I stumble back and the raven flies up and away from my flailing hands. My face stings where its claws struck, and my hair falls in my face.
“What in the hell?” I yell, dropping my arms as it retreats. The raven circles overhead, giving a raucous caw as if it is telling me off. “Oh yeah? Well, I’m not the one who clawed someone, now am I?”
Angrily I find my dropped basket and gather up the spilled plants. I turn my back on the cave and walk back the way I came, but before it’s out of sight, I look over my shoulder. The draw is still there, if less, and the wrongness too.
“Damn it, Dugald. You’re never around when I need you,” I mutter.
As I retrace my steps to camp the creepy feeling fades until it seems like something I dreamed. I know the dark is out there. I’ve felt it before, but this is more than what I’ve previously experienced. I know I’m supposed to choose a path forward, which is why the Fae call me Destroyer, but as I slowly begin to understand my role it becomes clearer that it’s not an easy, black-and-white choice.
The “dark” isn’t all bad and the “light” isn’t all good. If it was that simple, then the choice would be obvious. Moira is a Dark Fae, an Unseelie, and despite everything, I still consider her a friend. Dugald is a Seelie, but I’m still not sure if he’s a friend or not.
As the camp comes into sight, I push aside the quandaries of those decisions, returning my focus to Duncan. He’s the choice I’ve made. I want to explore the feelings he and I have for one another, which means I must find him. That’s what matters, and all the rest can wait until I have this figured out.
The path down the cliff is steep and covered with loose stones. I carefully pick each step. Going up was much easier; coming down, gravity is pulling like a lover on the morning after, not wanting you to leave the bed. I’m halfway down the path when I hear a shout from below, jerking my attention. As soon as I look away my foot comes down on a loose patch of gravel and slides.
“Ahh,” I cry out as my leg slips forward, throwing my balance off.
My legs attempt to do a split that I am nowhere near flexible enough to pull off. Muscles up and down my thighs and into my groin strain to stretch, pulling hard in the attempt as I try to both hold onto my basket of collected goods and to not fall.
When I was sixteen my dad and I went on a ski trip in Colorado. I was terrible on skis, but I did learn to snowboard. What few skills I managed to learn then serve me well now. I lean into my forward thrusting leg and drop my waist to find my center and avoid falling by sliding down the path. When the loose gravel runs out, I jar to a stop and stumble forward a few steps. I’m left breathing heavily with pulled muscles and new soreness but proud I didn’t fall on my face.
The commotion is still happening and, after a moment to catch my breath, I run towards the gathering crowd of people. Cheers and calls rise from the throng. I push my way in, and people part with comments of let the healer in.
When I break through to the center of the group there are two battered young men leaning on each other. The crowd hushes as I emerge. One of the men turns and my heart leaps.
“Rob!” I exclaim.
He looks like hell. His shirt is ripped in multiple places exposing wounded flesh. Blood runs from his nose, and he has a nasty lump swelling on his left temple, but I still recognize Duncan’s friend. His blue eyes lock onto mine and he smiles.
“Well,” he says through swollen lips. “Quinn. Duncan said you were alive.”
“Duncan?” I ask, grabbing his hands, but I drop them when I see him grimace and I realize at least one finger is broken. “Is he alive?”
“Aye,” Rob says. “Duncan is alive. For now.”
ChapterSix
“For now?”I ask, “What do you mean?”
“A bunch of us were captured. Duncan and the rest are imprisoned and slated to be killed. I managed to escape and came looking for help,” Rob says.
My stomach drops and shock blasts my thoughts to pieces. Everyone talks at once and pushes closer.
“Where is he?” “Who else?” “Is he alone?” “Who has him?”
The press of bodies shoves Rob and I both as the crowd grows and closes. Those outside the inner circle trying to find out what is happening while those close enough to hear demand answers. I’m crushed against Rob and it’s hard to get my breath.
“Aye, enough,” Rob says, but his voice is drowned out by the clan.
Rob wraps one arm around me and uses his other to try to push people back. It doesn’t work. This is quickly becoming a mob. It’s even harder to inhale and the first touches of fear flutter in my belly. Rob yells, louder, but the shouts are deafening, and no one is stopping.
“We have to rescue them.”
“A fool’s mission. We’ll all die.”
