Darklands

“I seek admission to the Darklands.” A hound growled and lunged at me. Its snout bounced off the invisible barrier.



“Down!” Mallt-y-Nos shouted, and the creature dropped to its belly. Her scowl deepened the lines that now etched her face. “Did you not hear what I said? It is not your time.”



“I seek temporary admission. Three days. There’s a man…he used to be a demi-demon, but his shadow demon was destroyed. He’s gone into the Darklands to try to revive his demon half. I need to stop him.”



The crone snarled. “What do I care what happens in Lord Arawn’s realm—or in this one? I care only for the hunt. One day, I will drive you before me. It is not yet your time, but I can wait. Hunters are patient.” Again, her features receded into the ghastly grimace of a skull. I shivered at the image of what awaited me. Of what awaits every living creature.



I shook off the feeling. “I know there are doorways into the Darklands. How do I enter?”



“To cross the border, you must pay the price.”



“And the price is a person’s life. I get that. But there are stories of people who went to the Darklands and returned. What price did they pay?”



“Those mortals made a deal with Lord Arawn. But some betrayed him, and he closed the border to living mortals.” Her expression turned crafty. “Still,” she muttered to herself, “I can make deals, too.” Her face, middle-aged at the moment, took on the stern aspect of a strict teacher. “I can escort you into the Darklands, mortal. But to return to your world, you must bring me three items.”



“What are they?”



Her crone’s face creased into a grin. “Rhudda’s magic arrow; the white falcon of Hellsmoor; and the hunting horn of Lord Arawn himself. Those are things I can use.” She raised an aged finger. “But nothing else. The Darklands are shrouded to the living and must remain so.”



Mallt-y-Nos was offering me a deal—and bargaining with spirits is a bad idea. I watched as she nodded, cackling to herself, her face altering with each motion of her head. Make that a very bad idea. I’d be alone in a strange land, lost, racing against time and who knows what obstacles to stop Pryce. And now the hag wanted to send me on what I suspected would be an impossible scavenger hunt. She was too quick to make her offer, too pleased with herself. She knew she was asking for more than I could deliver.



Except for seven, none returned.



“Your price is too high,” I said. “I will bring you one item. Name the one you want.”



Her death’s-head eyes flared into flame. Anger shot from her like a lightning bolt, shuddering my protective sphere. I cringed. “Three!” she shrieked. “Three or we have no deal.”



“And if I fail?”



The young woman tossed her head. “None may cross the border without paying the price.” She looked down at me like she’d look at a bug crawling on her shoe. “What is it to me which side you’re on?”



Never make a bargain with an otherworldly spirit. I knew that. But the vision of my world in flames, the fear in Mab’s eyes—I couldn’t stay locked in this cottage and do nothing. I had no choice.



As though they were a single creature, the hellhounds froze. Their heads whipped to the right, nostrils quivering. They lifted their muzzles and howled. The sound, full of rage and hunger, was an echo from a nightmare.



The hag turned her head in the same direction, then looked back at me with the face of a scowling old woman. “Hurry up!” she snapped. “I can’t wait all night. Do you agree to my price?”



“I agree.” The moment I spoke the words, the air around me shimmered. My sphere of protection imploded, falling around me—on my face, my shoulders, my arms—like a million tiny shards of glass.



The flesh fell away from Mallt-y-Nos’s skull as she pointed at me. “Change, shapeshifter,” she croaked. A torrent of energy blasted out. It hit me square in the chest and exploded inside me, ripping off my limbs. No, not ripping. Contracting, twisting, changing. Pain—hot, fiery pain—consumed me.



What have you done to me? I tried to scream, but my mouth wouldn’t issue the words. My tongue was too long, my teeth too sharp. A howl tore itself from my throat, joining the hellhound chorus. It burned. Every part of me burned.



Oh, God, I’m on fire! It was my last human thought before I shifted.



“RUN!” COMMANDS MISTRESS. HER WILL CUTS ME, A FIERY whip. Pain slices legs, and I move. Wall ahead. I stop, confused. “Run!” Mistress wills it. More pain, worse, pushes me. Other hounds bite. Sharp, sizzling hurt. I snap and snarl back. Too many fangs. They tear me. I run. The wall gives way.



Outside. Cold, but the fire inside me still burns, hurts. Smells: forest, mud, wolf. Many wolves. Ground soft and wet under paws.



“Up!” Mistress’s command hurts. The word like fangs in my skull. Must obey, so up I go. No more ground, running in sky. Smells of earth and wolf fade. Smells here: damp, hellhound, horse, fire, mistress. Below, a howl. Wolf. Then no sounds but panting, growls.



“Faster!” Hurts. I yelp, go faster. I swerve, hit another hound. His fangs bite. I rear up. Aim for throat. But “Faster!” comes again and burning cramps torment me. Pain. I run.



Fire inside never stops. Pain, pain, pain. I feel its beat, run to it. Pain, pain, pain.



We run far, fast. Mistress allows no rest.



Pain, pain, pain.



Hunger rumbles in belly. Where is prey?



Pain, pain, pain.



“Down!” Command hurts. Mistress wills, I obey. Back on earth. Sniff all around. Mud smell, wet rock. Pine trees. Water. Paws squish in cold mud. A strong smell—dead demon. Harpies died here.



“You!” Fiery knives tear through me. Pain howls from my throat. Mistress wants something. Anything, anything—just make this strong hurt stop. I look at Mistress. She points. “Run!”



I run. Another wall ahead. Rock. Hurt drives me toward it. A light in the wall. Red, like fire. Misty, like smoke. Fire hurts. I don’t want to run there.



“Run!” Mistress commands. Hounds howl. So much pain. I run where Mistress tells me. I leap into the fire-red wall. Rock melts around me.



Dark.



Empty.



Falling.



19



DARK.



It was dark and I was falling.



I tumbled down a steep slope, somersaulting and rolling and sliding. The baying of the hellhounds assailed my ears from all sides. Sharp stones cut me; smells of grass and dirt and something sharp, electric, rose around me. I scrabbled to grab hold of something, anything, to stop my descent. All I got were fistfuls of torn-up grass.



I came to a stop, sprawled on my face in the mud. That’s when I realized something had changed. That raging internal fire—it was gone. I ached all over, but the horrible, burning pain that had driven me was gone. I flexed my fingers; I had hands, not paws. Crossing the border had shifted me back to my human form.



Thank God. Being a hellhound had shown me more flavors of pain than I ever knew existed. I didn’t know whether Mallt-y-Nos had forced me to shift because it was the only way to get me out of that cabin and across the border, or whether she was merely a sadistic bitch. But I knew which answer I’d bet on.



Gingerly, I sat up. I tried to open my eyes, then realized they were already open. I couldn’t see. Darkness, as thick and solid as black velvet enwrapped me. Panic seized me—that damn Night Hag had blinded me!—until I thought about where I was. The Darklands. Somehow, I hadn’t expected them to be this dark. A sick feeling of failure lumped in my stomach. I’d lost before I began. I’d never find Pryce or keep my bargain with Mallt-y-Nos if I couldn’t see.



A breeze touched my cheek, accompanied by a soft sigh from above. The way the air moved, it felt like something was passing by. A bird gliding close overhead, maybe. But the sigh sounded human. And sad.



“Hello?” I called. “Is anyone there?”



No answer. Whatever it was swept past. But as I listened, more sounds reached my ears: sighs, muted sobs, indistinct murmurings. A fragment of a hymn. All floated down from somewhere above me. As best as I could tell in the disorienting darkness, the sounds were moving. And they all seemed to be moving in the same direction.



Soft, steady crying drifted down from somewhere nearby.



“Are you all right?”



There was no pause in the sobbing, nothing to indicate that whoever was crying had heard me. I tracked the sound. In the distance was a star, a pinpoint of light in the darkness. That tiny, glimmering spot made joy spring up inside me. There was light here.



Overhead, the sobbing flowed toward the light. I stood and went toward it, too.



It was hard going. Unlike the voices wafting over my head, I was earthbound. I tried leaping into the air, reaching to catch a current or grab hold of one of the passing beings, but each time I fell back to the ground, my hands empty. I tried willing myself to fly, and that worked exactly as well as it would back in the human world. So I walked. I was in some sort of forest. There were rocks and trees—how could trees grow in this dark place?—and briars that tore at my arms. I proceeded slowly, feeling in front of me to avoid colliding with boulders and tree trunks, trying to keep my eye on the light. Always I heard sighs and whispers above, moving in the same direction.



The sixth or seventh time I tripped over an invisible root, I tried shifting into a bird so I could fly toward the light. I pictured myself sprouting feathers, imagined air under my wings as I soared toward the light. But nothing happened. The shift wouldn’t take hold. Earthbound, I kept stumbling forward.



I must have made better progress than I thought, because the light rapidly grew larger. In ten minutes, it was the size of a doorway. I stood directly under it, still in absolute darkness. Its light didn’t reach down here. But above, transparent shapes glowed briefly as they crossed into the light and disappeared. They were people. People flying through the darkness and going into the light. As each one passed through, a note of music sounded. Beautiful. I wanted to go through that doorway, glide into the warm light, become part of that melody. I had to get up there.