Lord of Shadows (The Dark Artifices #2)(92)

They reached another wall, not high enough to stop faerie horses but high enough to be annoying. Emma leaped it; Julian sprang after her, his fingers lightly brushing the top of the wall as he sailed over.

Kieran shook his head. "I cannot do it," he said.

"Kier-" Mark began angrily, but Kieran had his head down, like a beaten dog. His hair fell, sweat-tangled, into his face, and his shirt and the waist of his breeches were soaked in blood. "You're bleeding again. I thought you said you were healing."

"I thought I was," Kieran said softly. "Mark, leave me here-"

A hand touched Mark's shoulder. Cristina. She had put her knife away. She looked at him levelly. "I'll help you get him over the wall."

"Thanks," Mark said. Kieran didn't seem to even have the energy to look at her angrily. She scrambled to the wall's top and reached her hands down; together she and Mark hauled Kieran up over the barrier. They jumped down, into the grass beside Emma and Julian, who were waiting, looking worried. Kieran landed beside them and collapsed to the ground.

"He can't keep running," said Mark.

Julian glanced over the wall. The hoofbeats were loud now, like thunder overhead. The leading edge of the Unseelie cavalry was in view, a dark and moving line. "He has to," he said. "They'll kill us."

"Leave me here," said Kieran. "Let them kill me."

Julian dropped to one knee. He put a hand under Kieran's chin, forcing the prince's face up so their eyes met. "You called me ruthless," he said, his fingers pale against Kieran's bloodied skin. "I have no pity for you, Kieran. You brought this on yourself. But if you think we came all the way here to save your life just to let you lie down and die, you're more foolish than I thought." His hand fell from Kieran's face to his arm, hauling him upright. "Help me, Mark."

Together they lifted Kieran between them and started forward. It was a blindingly hard task. Panic and the strain of holding up Kieran threw off Mark's hunting senses; they stumbled over rocks and roots, plunged into a thick copse of trees, its branches reaching down to tear at their skin and gear. Halfway through the copse, Kieran went limp. He had finally fainted.



       
         
       
        

"If he dies-" Mark began.

"He won't die," Julian said grimly.

"We could hide him here, come back to get him-"

"He's not a spare pair of shoes. We can't just leave him somewhere and expect him to be there when we get back," Julian hissed.

"Would you two stop-" Emma began, and then broke off with a gasp. "Oh!"

They had burst out of the small patch of trees. In front of them rose a hill, green and smooth. They could climb it, but it would demand digging in with hands and feet, scrambling over the top. It would be impossible to do and keep Kieran with them.

Even Julian stopped dead. Kieran's arm had been looped around Julian's neck; now it swung free, dangling at his side. Mark had the distant horrible feeling he was already dead. He wanted to lay Kieran down in the grass, check for his heartbeat, hold him as a Hunter should be held in his last moments.

Instead he turned his head and looked behind them. Cristina had her eyes closed; she was holding her pendant, her mouth moving in silent prayer. Emma held Cortana the same way, her eyes watchful and glittering. She would defend them to the last, Kieran too; she would go down under the hooves of the dark cavalry.

And they were coming. Mark could see them, shadows between the trees. Horses like black smoke, blazing eyes like red coals, shod in silver and burning gold. Fire and blood gave them life: They were murderous, and brutal.

Mark thought he could see the King, riding at their head. His battle helmet was etched with a pattern of screaming faces. Its faceplate covered only that half of the King's face that was human and beautiful, leaving the dead gray skin exposed. His single eye burned like red poison.

The sound of their coming was like the sound of a glacier breaking apart. Deafening, deadly. Mark wished suddenly that he could hear what Cristina was saying, the words of her quiet prayer. He watched her lips move. Angel, provide for us, bless us, save us.

"Mark." Julian turned his head toward his brother, his blue-green eyes suddenly unguarded, as if he were about to say something he had been desperate to say for a long time. "If you-"

The hill seemed to crack apart. A large square in the front of it peeled away from the rest and swung open like a door. Mark's mouth fell open. He had heard of such things, hills with doors in the sides, but he had never seen one.