An Artificial Night

The air got thick and hazy as we ran along the road, and we slowed. I braced myself, waiting for the darkness to return. We’d passed through more than half of the Bay Area; we had to be almost done, ready to finish our descent into the night.

The first Riders were almost to the crossroads when white light blazed ahead of us, reaching past the tops of the dark-tipped trees and drawing a circle around the center of the street. Blind Michael’s horse reared in terror. “Halt!” he shouted, and the Ride came to an uneven stop. I had no idea how to make Katie stop, and so she did it on her own, stumbling over her hooves, eyes wide and frightened. I wanted to lean forward to comfort her, but I couldn’t. All I could do was stare into the light.

The Riders looked as lost as I felt, pushing and snarling at each other as they queued up behind their lord. They were too frightened for this to be a part of the ritual. This was something new.

A voice from behind the light shouted, “For I will ride the milk-white steed, the nearest to the town! Because I was an earthly knight, they give me that renown!”

It took me a moment to realize why I knew those words. I’d always spoken them myself, or heard them sung, usually in my mother’s sweetly discordant voice as she coaxed me to sleep. Knowing the words didn’t make them make sense. Why was someone reciting the ballad of Tam Lin? Old Scottish fairy tales aren’t typical reading material for Halloween—of course. It was Halloween, the night for Rides and sacrifices, and Tam Lin ended with a faerie Ride on Halloween night. It was meant to be a sacrifice. It turned into a rescue.

Most people believe it’s just a story, but it’s not, quite; it happened a long time ago, before the Burning Times began. The Ride that was interrupted that night resulted in the loss of Queen Maeve and heralded the fall of the old Courts. I’ve never understood why my mother chose that song as her lullaby, our world began dying the night that ballad began. Janet waited for Maeve’s Ride at the crossroads, standing in the center of a circle cast for her protection. She was clever, she was careful, and she won the man who betrayed us all. Could the speaker be coming to stop this Ride the way Janet stopped that one? So who were they stopping it for?

“First let pass the black steeds, and then let past the brown,” the voice chanted. There was no arguing with that voice. The children around me were raising their heads, shivering and confused. “Quick run to the milk-white steed and pull the Rider down!”

Someone grabbed Katie’s reins. She reared, startled, and I fell.

I went limp, almost glad that I didn’t have enough control to catch myself or fight. Maybe I couldn’t run away, but that didn’t mean I had to save myself. Death would be better than survival in slavery.

“No, you don’t!” said a cheerful voice, grabbing me out of the air. An elbow slammed into my solar plexus, knocking the wind out of me, and we went tumbling through the light, into the circle that it defined. My captor twisted as we fell, making sure to cushion the blow when we hit the ground. Considerate kidnappers—that was a nice change. It was a pity I was too busy screaming to appreciate it. The light burned. It was like being shredded alive and reassembled by countless unseen hands, none of which were being very careful. Other voices were screaming around me, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the light. It didn’t help.