The Winter Long

“Oh, because people saying ‘don’t freak out’ never freaks me out at all,” I muttered, turning the key in the ignition. The car rumbled to life around us. I pulled out of the driveway, trying to focus on the road, and not on whatever the Luidaeg was doing in the seat next to me.

She wasn’t making it easy. She began chanting under her breath in that same unknown language, and the smell of brackish marshes and cold, clean ocean air rose around her, filling the car. My own magic stirred in response to the flood, and was quickly drowned out by the power that the Luidaeg was putting into the air. Her ice-white eyes were fixed on the road ahead.

And then, with no more preamble than that, the road was gone, and we were driving through the dark with nothing beneath us or around us. It was like plunging into the Shadow Roads, and not like that at all, because it wasn’t freezing cold, and there was still air; I could breathe. That was a good thing, since I let out a rather audible gasp when the transition occurred. The Luidaeg slanted me what I could only interpret as an amused look, despite her continuing chanting. The darkness shivered—there was no other word that could encompass the ripples that spread through the black, shadow on shadow and yet somehow still visible—and then fell away, replaced by an overgrown forest of creeping vines and heavy-branched trees that seemed to grab for our vehicle as it rocketed along the narrow horse trail that had replaced the road.

“Don’t slow down don’t look too closely don’t stop the car for any reason,” rattled the Luidaeg, her words coming staccato fast and without pauses between them. She chanted another line in that unrecognizable language before breaking back into English to say, more slowly, “This road was my sister Annis’ once, to hold and to keep open. She died a long time ago. No one keeps the byways here anymore.”

“And we’re driving a forgotten road belonging to a dead Firstborn exactly why?” I couldn’t stop my voice from cracking with half-contained panic at the end. This was the sort of situation that called for a certain amount of terror.

“Because it’s the fastest way, and because no one can find us here, or stop us, or keep us out,” said the Luidaeg. The smell of her magic surged again, filling the car until there was no space for anything else. “Let my frozen bitch of a sister hunt as long as she likes. She’ll never be able to find the doors to this place, much less pry them open.”

“Is it safe?”

The Luidaeg didn’t answer me. She just laughed. That was somehow more unnerving than anything she could have said. I tightened my grip on the wheel and turned on the headlights, illuminating the rocky, hard-pressed dirt in front of us. Eyes peered out of the brush to either side of the road, shining in the reflected halogen glare. That didn’t help. I didn’t know what kind of creatures could or would exist in a place like this, and I was pretty sure that finding out would involve a lot of blood on my part.

“There’s a left coming up ahead,” said the Luidaeg. “Take it, and for my mother’s sake, don’t slow down.”

“Oh, that’s not helping,” I muttered, and focused harder on the road, trying to spot the break in the trees. Even watching for it we nearly overshot our goal before I could haul on the wheel and send us rattling down a second, even narrower trail. Thick ropes of thorns overhung this stretch of road, scraping against the roof and slapping the windshield as we drove.

“If we slow down, we could get stuck,” said the Luidaeg, who either didn’t know that she wasn’t helping or—more likely—didn’t care. “This isn’t a place that’s used to people anymore. We’re a curiosity here. Something that can be kept and used as it chooses.”