A Different Kingdom(56)

'She was brought here. My aunt. Years ago. She was going to have a child and was taken away.'

Mirkady's interest seemed to sharpen. 'The father?'

Michael's face burned. 'A labourer who worked for us.'

Thomas McCandless. That much he had guessed at as he grew older. The young Protestant man his grandfather had thrown out of the house.

The man who had been atop Rose in the wood, pushing her into the leaves with his thrusts.

'So it seems you have a quest to follow in this world, young Michael. A maiden to rescue, perhaps. But what of our sister?'

Michael swallowed, met the green stare squarely. 'I love her.'

'Indeed! How noble of you. Do you know what the Wildwood can be like to a wandering mortal, my fine friend? I think not. Even the tribes have scant idea of what lurks in the thickest parts, the shapes that wander there. Nightmares prowl the trees in this land, and the Horseman will be hunting you. He has followed you from your world to this. I'm thinking he has plans for you both. And his steed can walk on the wind.'

'We'll survive,' Michael said, more firmly than he felt. He thought he might be in a dream and would wake up in bed at home to hear the wind whistling round the gables. It was too strange, even after all he had seen. It was the stuff of sleep. And yet he could smell the earth around him, sniff the woodsmoke from the fire pit and the roasted flesh there. This land was solid under his feet, as Dwarmo had said.

'Can you help us?' he asked Mirkady and the little goblin laughed.

'1 was wondering when that would come! So you would ask a boon of us, or several if you dared. And you love our sister.'

He paused, and Michael realized that the others in the cavern were silent and Cat was watching him with almost painful intensity. Her look made him feel somehow ashamed.

'We are not sages, nor seers either, despite what some of the villagers think of us. We will give you no magic to aid your journey, nor charms to ward you on your way. But some things we can bestow, for our sister's sake.'

Mirkady was sober now, the laughter gone from his voice. 'Food, some gear, even a weapon or two, so you will not have to let off that iron monstrosity you left tied to your horse. Clothing, also. It becomes cold, and so long as our sister's path lies with yours she is as human as you are.'

'She's human anyway,' Michael said.

Mirkady shook his head. 'You have a lot to learn despite the promise of your name, Michael Fay. Catherine is as a princess amongst us, and we value her. I would not willingly let harm come to her.' His tone made the words into a warning. 'When the folk you meet realize the blood that is in her you will be shunned. You may be attacked. Our kind are not popular amongst the Christians of this world.'

Michael shook his head. 'Who are you people? The castle I saw. The hall and the knights. You were a king.'

Dwarmo chuckled nearby and wiped his wide lips. 'Sup with the Wyr-Folk in one of their Howes, and what does a mortal expect to see?'

'Indeed,' said Mirkady. 'We can be anything you want us to be, or anything your mind expects. Cat cannot, because of the human in her. She and her like are caught between the worst of both worlds. And it is worse yet if they fall in with a mortal whom they come to ... love. Then they forfeit any protection their forest blood gives to them, and the Horseman pursues them.' He stopped and looked at Michael closely. 'And they begin to age.'

Abruptly he turned his sharp face upwards, glancing to the root-held ceiling overhead.

'Evening lingers in the world above. It will be night soon.

Since you are eager to take this thing upon yourself, we will leave when the sun sets.'

'We?'

'Indeed. Talk to our Catherine—your Catherine, I should say. I have things to do.' And he skipped off into the shadows to disappear.

Your Catherine.

When he joined her at the fire pit her eyes were full of the yellow flames so they were as amber as a wolf's. He knew now that there was a link, a kinship between her and the werewolf, between her and every monstrous creature he had so far seen, but the thought no longer disturbed him. He set a hand on her nape and stroked the soft hair there. To his relief, she leaned into his arm.

'Tell me of this aunt of yours,' she said. 'I thought you knew about her.'

'Only a little. Only what the woods themselves remember. That she was dark, and tall, and loved the land. That she came here seeking something, but lost her way and the Horseman took her.'

'Where, Cat? Where did he take her?'

She shrugged. 'They say there is a place in the Wolfweald where the Horseman has a castle, and there he keeps souls. But that is in the deep part of the Wildwood, the worst part, where even the Wyr Folk are afraid to go.'

'I'm not afraid,' Michael said.

'I did not bring you here for this, Michael. '

'For what, then?'

'What do you think? You wanted to come, and I wanted to have you—to show you this country, the marvels and the wonders. I cannot live in your world, so I brought you to mine to share it with you. And now you announce you have a quest, no less, this lady to rescue.' There was a leap of the old flame in her voice and her eyes flashed. Michael grinned.