As we raced deeper into the forest with no way of knowing our direction, or if we would ever find our way out, the fear in me grew until it was as though fear itself was another monster that raced alongside us. I gripped Sleipnir’s mane with whitened hands, and my heart thundered along to the sound of his hooves. When I glanced back at Leif, it made me even more afraid to see his face pale. He wrapped one arm around me, and the muscles were so tight it felt like stone.
The trees blurred by, but as I concentrated, I caught flashes of faces in the trees. They seemed to be part of the tree trunks, as though the trees themselves were alive: a white ash with the face of an old crone, an enormous oak tree with a slim face like a nymph, a haggard tree with gnarled, twisting branches forming a frightening face. And lights, blue lights in the trees. They danced merrily, enticingly. Will-o’-the-wisps, I was sure, to lead us astray, or even back toward the hunt.
For indeed, the baying had grown closer again, and Sleipnir snorted in fear. That same fear reached into my chest and grabbed hold, leaving ice in its place.
Where before us there were trees, now suddenly a rock wall rose out of the forest, blocking our path. Leif pulled Sleipnir to a sliding halt and threw himself from his back. I followed, taking up the same wide-legged defensive stance as Leif. We both stood together, pale and already panting for breath. Leif managed to shove away his fear first; he unsheathed the broadsword, and I pulled my dagger from beneath my cloak as soon as I’d steadied my breath. Holding the sword before him with both hands, Leif took a step in front of me.
With a growl of frustration, I moved away from him. “If you’re so concerned for my safety, then give me my sword, you fool,” I snapped.
He spared me the briefest of glances. “I can kill these creatures much faster with it—and keep us both alive.”
The hounds burst out of the cover of the trees, stalking closer to us with bristly hackles raised. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Leif raise the broadsword. Just as the lead hounds gathered themselves to leap at our throats, the ones at the rear yipped and barked excitedly. Like well-trained soldiers, they parted down the middle and stood at attention, allowing their leader to pass through.
A white stag, its antlers as sharp as daggers, leveled its gaze at us. Despite its male appearance, it was a female voice that resonated from it—and from all around us. It echoed from the trees and reverberated into our minds.
“I’m afraid you’ve found yourselves as prey for the Wild Hunt.” The voice was softly menacing, beautiful and terrible all at once. “My hounds have herded you like sheep into my realm, and there is no escape.”
I sensed the minds of all the creatures before us—feral and desperate for the kill. Beyond those minds, though, was a mind of a being so staggeringly powerful, I couldn’t hope to breach it. The stag’s mind made Leif’s mental wall seem like a thin sheet of parchment. It was a fortress, a mountain—untouchable. There was something about the sheer awesome power of it that reminded me of the Morrigan. I probed harder, and the moment my mind touched hers, the voice let out an angry hiss.
A howling wind came from nowhere, and the forest darkened. The stag narrowed its eyes at Leif. “You have the same look about you as those abominations—those giants from the north who stomp all over this land, killing as they go, while you mortals do nothing. All the ancient creatures of éirinn have been stirred free of their places of rest—each-uisces from their rivers, sluaghs from their forests and shores, even the Faerie Tunnel you find yourself trapped in—responding to their tainted presence.”
Her words turned my blood to ice. She had seen the j?tnar? My surprise broke my silence. “The giants—have you fought them? Where did you see them?” Pray not Mide. Surely we hadn’t been gone long enough.
The stag lowered its head, its sharp antlers pointed toward us threateningly. “You dare question me? As though I am merely a mortal peasant for you to command?” Her words triggered the hounds to growl again, until the woods were filled with the sound of snarling. “I may not be able to hunt the abominations from the north in the mortal realm, but you are in my realm now.” The stag reared, and the hounds’ eyes glittered as they stalked toward us.
My hand tightened on my dagger. Fear again settled upon me like a great bird of prey, but I pushed past it and centered myself. I couldn’t take control of the owner of the voice, but I might be able to grab hold of one of the hounds. I grasped for the mind of the creature closest to me, and once I connected, I nearly pulled myself free immediately, as the hound was picturing in vivid detail what it would feel like to rend my flesh, and to drink my blood while it was freshly flowing. Despite the horror of its black thoughts, I held on. The hound stopped in its advance, shaking its head wildly as though it might throw me from its mind. I pushed harder, bending its will to my own.
It broke under the force of my onslaught, capitulating to my desire to have it fight for me instead of the voice of the stag. Before one of other hounds could make the first leap for my throat, my chosen champion turned on it, sinking its teeth into the unsuspecting neck of the hound beside it.
Though I’d been spared for now, a massive hound launched itself at Leif, who immediately cut it down with the sword. Two more replaced the first, but I could no longer track Leif’s battle. Another hound, eyes glittering with malice, attacked me from the side. Its jaw snapped mere inches from my throat. I slashed with my dagger while simultaneously summoning my hound with enough force to make it lunge for my attacker, sending it slamming into the rocks behind us.
Another hound replaced the first with a vicious snarl. Before I could even take a breath, it launched itself at me. I deflected it as best I could with my dagger—catching it in its neck. It struggled wildly, leaving long scratches from my ribs to my hip. I cried out in pain but still held on until it collapsed. Panting, I turned to the next threat. Two stalked toward me, their muscles bunching. The hound I controlled cut them off before they could attack, and then they were growling and snapping and tearing at one another, the sound as loud and terrible as war.
Leif moved closer to me with every kill, the pile of dead hounds in his wake growing exponentially. His every movement was a fatal blow—no wasted effort. He was fast and he was strong, slicing the sword through multiple hounds as though they were as insubstantial as blades of grass. His fighting ability went beyond merely skilled and entered into the realm of inhuman.
And then, the worst possible outcome. The hound I controlled fell, its mind plunging into darkness as though a candle had been blown out.
The hounds that had killed it came at me.
I sank into a defensive position, balancing my weight on the balls of my feet. One feinted left as the other sprang, its heavy paws hitting me square in the chest. I was knocked to my back, and my head slammed onto one of the rocks. Darkness followed, and I blinked rapidly as the hound’s fetid breath felt hot upon my face. My vision returned, but the world spun around me.
I shook myself free of my daze and grabbed the hound’s throat, pushing against it from my prostrate position. Yellow teeth snapped inches from me. Its claws struggled for purchase against my leather chest piece. I couldn’t get my hand free to stab it with my dagger. Desperately, I reached for its mind.