Page 24 of The Wicked Lies of Habren Faire
I jump an overturned tree. The hag skids to a halt behind me, braying, the trunk a line between us. She hisses, gnashing her fangs at me. Still, she doesn’t follow. She cowers, recoils, looking past me, hissing at something I can’t see.
I don’t understand the rules of this chase, but I’ve gained an advantage. I take a few steps back, refusing to look away from her. Whatever she’s afraid of is probably worse than her, but that’s a problem for later. For now, whatever it is, it is keeping me safe. I move toward it as the hag flinches back. It’s a gamble, but I’ll take it.
The hag bows low to the ground behind the felled tree. She cries out in frustration, then scuttles back into the shadows, never turning around, never looking away from me. Her eyes are the last thing to vanish—two shadowed chasms, locked on my own. Then nothing, just darkness and silence.
I draw in a sharp breath. I have only a few seconds to gather myself before I must face whatever scared the hag away.
“They don’t like me.”
I whirl around, a hand clasped to my mouth, stifling a scream. A boy sits on the forest floor, his back against a tree trunk. He has his knees drawn up with a strange gun braced against them.
“W-why?” I manage.
He looks up. He’s no older than me. He wears a strange tan uniform with heavy boots. His skin is brown, and his hair and eyes are a deep black. He’s so ordinary—nothing like the shambling hag—and yetheseems to be what scared her off. Is he another trick?Another creature in disguise like the pwca,luring me close before biting?
“This.” He taps the butt of his gun. “The sick ones like me even less.”
“The sick ones?” I keep a safe distance, my breath still heavy from running.
He chooses his words carefully. “They come up from the ground, from the caves. You seen them yet?”
I shake my head, shivering. The creatures he’s talking about must have come up from Y Lle Tywyll.The place Ceridwen is heading. The place to which I must follow her.
The soldier shrugs. “You will.” It’s more a promise than a threat.
“I’ve never seen a gun like that before. Is it from here? Do the teg have guns?”
“No, they have nothing like this.” His jaw sets. “It’s standard assignment for the British army.”
“You can’t be army,” I protest. “Your uniform isn’t right.”
He sighs. “Time works differently here.”
He heaves himself up and I squeeze my eyes shut. Both Morgen and Neirin have warned me about how time moves strangely in this land—how people can get lost so easily—but I assumed it wouldn’t happen to me. I thought myself too clever, like I could outsmart what has probably caught out a hundred humans before me. I couldn’t have been more wrong. There are stars overhead even though it was daylight when I left Neirin mere moments ago.
I curse and rub a hand over my eyes. I’ve lost my way, my only source of help—even if that help came with its own dangers—and I’ve lost time, too.
“Who are you?”
His dark brow furrows. “A soldier.”
“Do you know how to get to Llys-y-Ellyllon?” I try. “I’m supposed to see their king. I was traveling with an ellyll, but we”—I search for a word that won’t betray how stupid I’ve been—“got separated.”
He adjusts his grip on the rifle. “I can take you to the next village. No further.”
“In exchange for what?”
“Nothing.”
I scoff. “As if I’d believe that.”
“What do you mean?” the soldier says.
I gesture to him. “You lot. The teg.Everything is a game. And you try very hard to hide the rules.”
Silence envelops us, permeated only by the wind in the trees and a bird singing, high and unnatural.
“I’m not one of them,” he says finally.
