Page 80 of The Longing

“I doubt it. When he comes, Fenrother will rain down violence like you have never seen.”

Because it occurs to me, the tapestry in the great hall of Fenrother’s castle, the one I thought showed Wyrms killing and eating humans…all of the figures within it had rather long, pointed ears…

FENROTHER

The Faerie hills rise up ahead of us. I’d still rather be on my own, but I know I cannot get through the enchantments which surround this foul place.

I’ve never wanted to before, but the queen has my Alice, and getting to her consumes me. I don’t care about the others, but I must have my mate.

“Fuck the Faerie,” Reavely growls as we pass the last marker on the road warning us where we are entering. He scratches his hairy stomach.

“No thanks,” Warden says. “I’d rather mate with a rock.”

“I still can’t believe the Wyrm is mated.” Reavely eyes me. “He’s a Wyrm. All he knows about is fighting and eating.”

The three of them start an argument about why they are here and what they are doing helping me.

I ignore them, instead concentrating my attention on the demarcation line between the Yeavering and the hills. The scorched earth stretches for around six feet wide into the Faerie lands, and this is the place where you die, or at the very least, turn into a creature which will then be enslaved to the Faerie.

I don’t want to think about the Night Lands. All my attention is on my mate. She is in the hills. I can feel it in my bones.

I can scent her on the air. I can scent…blood…I can hear…a scream…

“We have to go,” I growl. “Whatever it is we’re supposed to do to get through the enchantments, we need to do it, now. My mate is in trouble.”

Warden looks at the other two. Reavely shakes his shaggy fur insolently. “So?” he demands.

“We have to go together. The enchantments cannot withstand all our earth forms at a single point.” Warden sighs.

“How do you know this? I don’t want to end up as charcoal,” Reavely snarls.

“Meg told me.”

“It seems Meg likes to meddle almost as much as she prefers not to participate,” Linton grumbles.

“And involve us all in the Wyrm’s business,” Reavely adds. “What is in it for me?”

“Death or glory.” Warden glares at him. “The usual.”

“I did enough of that for the Faerie,” he growls. “Why would I do it for the Wyrm?”

“Because if we don’t do it for each other, then we are as the Faerie,” I respond, not taking my eyes from the far point beyond the enchantment. “And we are not like them. We are better.”

I hear Linton and Reavely grumble something.

“And because the Faerie have done us all a disservice at one time, and this is your chance to even the score,” I add.

“I can get behind that,” Reavely rasps after a short pause. “Anything to spill Faerie guts.”

“Death is my business as much as it is his,” Linton says, jerking his thumb at the black dog of death. “I put flames out, so don’t forget it, Wyrm.”

“The Faerie left me to rot in the Night Lands. I want my revenge.” Warden shrugs.

I take a step forward, and beside me, the centaur, the Bluecap, and the Barghest line up. The next step we take is as one. Magic sizzles the air, raising my scales and raking over my wings. The next step increases the temperature to the point of pain.

Linton and Reavely grunt as we push forward, their faces set into grim lines as we push on. The demarcation line on the other side doesn’t seem to be getting any closer, but the pain and the heat are increasing.

I’m beginning to think Meg was wrong. Warden and I have our heads bowed, and Linton and Reavely are mere streaks of darkness. I take the next step and the next, the need to find Alice driving me, the scent of her blood mingling with my own as the edge of the enchantment seems further away than ever.

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