An Artificial Night

“Because.” Her sorrow faded, twisting into bitterness. “You’d be a better toy. Come quickly.” She grabbed my hand and started walking again, faster now. The guard was as good as his word, and no one else tried to stop us. The end of the hall was in sight when Acacia broke into a run, dragging me with her. We were almost there. We were almost out.

Fingers snagged in my hair, yanking me to a painful stop. I fell backward, hitting the floor hard, and found myself looking up into the smirking face of the Piskie from the Children’s Hall. She was sitting astride her Centaur mount, one hand wound in his mane; her other hand was still raised, strands of my hair caught between her webbed fingers.

“He said you might try to get away. He said we should watch you special,” she said, and looked to Acacia, eyes cold. “You can’t hurt us. He knows where we are.”

“No,” said Acacia wearily, hands dropping to her sides. “I can’t hurt you.”

“Stupid old hag,” said the Piskie. The Centaur grabbed my hair this time, hauling me to my feet. I winced but didn’t scream. I wasn’t giving them the satisfaction.“These are His halls, not yours. You have no power here.”

“No, I don’t. I gave it up,” said Acacia, and looked at me, expression pleading.

What was I supposed to do? I was already damned. So was she, but I didn’t need to make her suffer. She’d do that on her own. I went limp, not fighting against my captors or pleading for help as Acacia turned and walked away.

“You’re just in time,” said the Piskie. “Now we go.”

“Go?” I asked, bleakly.

The Centaur nodded, giving me a brisk shake for punctuation. “Now we Ride.”

They dragged me through the hall and out the door, into the clearing where I’d made my bargain. About half of Blind Michael’s twisted children were there, milling back and forth under the steady gaze of the Riders. There were other, unchanged children as well, lashed together like cattle. Most of them were crying. The Piskie shoved me into the crowd, and I stumbled, barely managing not to fall. No one seemed to have noticed our arrival; it could have passed for a festival atmosphere if not for the screams.

Riders guarded the edge of the clearing, except for the point where it bordered on a long stone wall. There was a break in the wall, less than twenty feet away; the Piskie and her Centaur mount were cantering toward the front of the clearing, and the other children were ignoring me, caught up in their own private anticipations or terrors.

I started inching backward toward the opening. It was almost time for the Ride to begin. I didn’t know what happened when Blind Michael took his Riders out into the night, and I didn’t want to; Acacia was right. I promised Blind Michael I’d stay in his lands, but I didn’t say anything about sitting idly by while he bound me to his eternal service or took me as his lady. I knew enough to know that if I Rode, I’d belong to him forever, and maybe it was splitting hairs, but the idea of spending all of time with the man just didn’t appeal. All my kids were safe at home, except for Katie, and if Blind Michael still had her, it was too late. There was no one left for me to save but myself. It was better to run away, even if I died in the attempt. At least I’d have tried. At least I’d die a hero.

I kept my hands down, trying to look nonchalant. A few of Blind Michael’s kids would be glad to hurt me, like the Piskie and her Centaur friend, but others might be glad to see someone escape. The wall was only a few feet away. If I could get out of the village, I might be able to reach Acacia’s woods before the Riders knew I was gone. Once I was in the woods, they couldn’t take me. Acacia ruled there. There was still a chance.

Like an idiot, I let myself believe it. Only for an instant . . . but that was long enough to give me hope. I reached the wall, slid myself into the hole, and got ready to run.

And Blind Michael loomed out of the darkness. For a moment I saw him for what he was: one of the Firstborn, a foundation of Faerie, but still a man. Not a god. Then his illusions slammed into me, and he became the mountains and the sky and the world. I could think about escaping, but much as I wanted to, I couldn’t move. “Now we Ride,” he said.

Oh, root and branch. Oberon help us all.





TWENTY-EIGHT