Night Myst (24 page)

Rhiannon moved to Kaylin’s side. Leo pulled up front with me.

“We ready? Let’s push toward the bottom of the ravine.”

I showed Leo how I was inching my way down, stepping sideways on the steep and frozen hill. Then, I’d test my footing before putting full weight on my leg. He followed suit. Every few feet I called, “Check,” and Kaylin echoed it back to me. After another ten minutes, I could hear the sound of tinkling water. The stream sounded muffled, and I guessed it was partially frozen over.

“We’re almost at the bottom.” The fog was so thick at our level that it caught in my lungs, making me wheeze. But sure enough, in another moment we were standing beside the channel through which a rolling stream flowed. Or did, under a thin layer of ice.

“Now what?” Rhiannon asked.

“Now, we cross the stream and head up the other side.” This was taking longer than I thought it would. I hadn’t counted on the mist, or on being attacked, or on just how rough our footing would be. We still had at least another hour—maybe two—of walking, according to the directions Grieve had given me.

“We need to pick up the pace.”

“Here’s a stepping-stone bridge,” Kaylin said, pointing to a series of smooth, flat stones that had been placed across the stream. They were wet and iced over, but they were an inch or so above the water and if we balanced carefully, we might not end up calf-deep in the stream. I lightly crossed to the other side and the others followed suit.

“Now, up the hill and on to the Marburry Barrow,” I said.

But even as the words left my mouth, a noise to our left alerted us and we turned. There, hiding behind a tree, stood Chatter, looking petrified. And Grieve was nowhere in sight.

“Chatter? Chatter? I see you!” As I headed toward the tree, he looked about ready to run. I held out my finger, shaking it at him. “Don’t you dare!”

Rhiannon glanced at the tree and a huge smile washed across her face. “Chatter! Please, don’t go!”

He slowly stepped from behind the tree, eyeing the four of us nervously. After a moment of scuffing the ground, he bowed to Rhiannon. “Miss Rhiannon, it’s good to see you again. And dear Cicely . . .”

“What are you doing here, Chatter? Were you watching us?” I took a step toward him. He didn’t worry me nearly as much as Grieve. Grieve was a member of the Indigo Court. Chatter still seemed like . . . Chatter.

He blushed and shook his head. “I can see why you would think so. No, Miss Cicely. I’m not worthy enough to be used as a spy.” By the tone in his voice and the lowering of his head, I could tell whatever self-esteem he used to possess had been beaten out of him. I prayed Grieve hadn’t been on the other end of the stick.

“Chatter . . . my friend. What are you doing here?” I held out my hand and he slowly took it. As I pulled him close and gave him a hug, he relaxed just enough to tell me that he was as afraid as we were.

He winced, then shrugged his head to one side. “Just . . . trying to stay out of the way of the Queen and her Court. Grieve’s not around today to protect me.”

That figured. I had the feeling that life at the Indigo Court hadn’t gone easy on Chatter. In fact, it occurred to me we might actually have a better
in
to the Court through him than through Grieve. Of course, if Myst found out . . .

“I bet life isn’t very easy now that the Queen of Rivers and Rushes is gone. I’m so sorry. I liked Lainule.” I held his gaze, wanting to take away some of the pain I saw behind those limpid brown eyes.

“No,” he whispered, a light flashing in his eyes. “Life’s been harsh the past few years. I miss the Queen. She was fair and just.”

“Will you tell us what happened?” Rhiannon asked. She placed a light hand on his shoulder. He gazed at her, a slow sadness filling his eyes.

He likes her,
Ulean whispered.

I nodded, slowly. I could see it in his face. Chatter shivered under her touch as she stroked his arm lightly. I glanced at Leo, who was not looking pleased.

“We need to know what’s going on. My mother’s disappeared, and a friend. We don’t know if they’re alive or dead.”

Relieved she didn’t spill Grieve’s secret and let on that he’d already told us they were alive, I relaxed for a moment.

Chatter closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry about
all
of this. I wish you hadn’t come back, Cicely—not to face this mess. And Miss Rhiannon . . . your mother and your friend . . . I wish I could help.”

His eyes misted over and he hung his head. “We fought them. So much death. So much blood. We fought and fought. Grieve led a band of us deep into the Barrow and we tried to sneak the women and children out through the portal to the other side. But they caught up with us. There was so much blood and screaming, and little children torn to bits.” He wiped his eyes with one hand, but the catch in his voice was like a rusty hinge and I knew he’d been broken.

“Oh, Chatter.” Rhiannon slid her arms around his shoulders and he leaned into her embrace. “I wouldn’t bring up the memories but we need your help. We need all the help we can get. Will you tell us what happened to Grieve?”

He blinked. “We were caught. They were going to feed on me but Grieve begged them to spare me. They drank him down to the gate of death and then made him drink. Then he just . . . he recovered—so fast. And when he stood again, he looked so strange. His eyes changed.
Grieve
changed. He looked like a wild child and I was afraid he’d finish me off himself, but he just said,
Let me keep him. He’s lazy and useless but he amuses me.
My friend would never have said that before the change.”

“And they agreed?” I quietly shifted my weight. My feet were going a little numb in the cold but I didn’t want to break the mood.

“Yes. So I stay with Grieve most of the time. The others hate me, but Grieve . . . he tries to be himself. I can tell he doesn’t like what he’s become. He would never treat you so oddly, Cicely, if this hadn’t happened to him. There’s a constant battle going on inside. I can see it in his eyes. He’s always at war with himself.”

Chatter crouched on the ground, ignoring the snow. He rested against the tree trunk. “I get tired, so I come out here and breathe the illusion of freedom.”

“Do you want to come home with us? We can help you. You could leave town, get away.” I had no idea how we’d manage it but the offer slipped out before I could stop myself.

But Chatter shook his head. “Thanks, Miss Cicely. You and Miss Rhiannon, you’re good friends, even though I only really knew you when you were children. But I’m afraid I wouldn’t get far. You’d be in trouble and I’d end up dead. And besides . . .”

“Besides what?” What more could there be than to get away and not look back? But Chatter’s answer silenced the cynic in me.

“I help keep Grieve sane. Without me he’d give way, fully turn into one of
them
. And I can’t do that to him. He was my best friend at one time. Shadow Hunter or not, Grieve’s still my blood-oath brother.”

I wanted to do something . . .
anything
. . . to help. But there was nothing we could do if he refused.

“I understand. Chatter, will you at least promise not to mention you saw us or talked to us?”

He inclined his head. “I won’t give you away. I promise you that.” He slowly rose and dusted his hands on his pants. “I’d better go now, before they miss me. I don’t want them to come looking for me and find you.” Turning, he added, “But be careful. These woods are laden with creatures that could rip you apart. If I were you, I’d go home. Seriously, the woodland is tainted. I don’t know if it can ever recover.”

I bit my lip, wanting to take him by the hand, drag him home, and send him off on a bus somewhere, but I stepped back. If we interfered too much, we’d only get him in trouble. Or dead.

“Go then, before they sense us. But Chatter . . . if you do see my aunt—Rhiannon’s mother—or our friend Peyton . . . if you think of something that can help, then please, let us know.”

Chatter nodded. Then, turning to go, he stopped. “The owl’s been looking for you, by the way, Cicely. He asks for you, every day. I’d help, but I’m just . . . don’t count on me.” He shook his head. “I’m useless. But soon, you must find the owl. If the Shadow Hunters find it, they’ll kill it. They hate owls. And—don’t trust spiders. The spiders of the wood watch and listen. They’re Myst’s pets.”

He ran then, so fast I could barely track him. In mere moments, he was gone.

We made our way up the other side of the ravine in silence. I could tell the others were itching to discuss the meeting with Chatter, but this wasn’t the time nor place for that.

Once we were at the top of the ravine, the going was quicker and we moved silently through the path, our sounds muffled by the snowfall. The clouds had moved in and now a light flurry had started, softening our footsteps even more. Although still overgrown, the trail wasn’t as bad as it had been back in the ravine. Someone had to be keeping it under control, and my guess was the Indigo Court. The light fell through the trees in an odd, slanted way, and the silver-tinged sky lent an air of foreboding to the disturbing ambience that filtered through the woodland.

I kept my eyes open for the stand of red huckleberries. I knew them by sight, even without the berries in blossom. Blue huckleberries grew more frequently over the Cascades, in eastern Washington. I was beginning to wonder if Grieve’s instructions were right when, within a few minutes, I saw a thick patch of them ahead—there must have been twenty or thirty bushes in one grouping.

“Start looking for the Faerie ring. Don’t step inside of it—we need to go around it. Grieve was clear on that.
Don’t step inside the ring of toadstools.
”

I glanced around. Toadstools were another commonality in the forest—their growth spurred on by the dampness and the thick decay that littered the forest floor. Moss grew heavy in these woods, and ferns, and all plants misty and magical. That they’d be up during the snow was odd, but then again, this was a magical wood and the Fae could work wonders with the flora.

We slowly passed through the stand of huckleberries and I was beginning to wonder yet again if we’d made a wrong turn when Leo said, “I found it.”

Off to our left, about ten yards past the shrubs, a wide ring covered the path. A good twelve feet in diameter, the ring was comprised of toadstools that were rust and brown, with white spots that dappled their skin. Some had blossomed out—their tops flat and fully open, ready to spore. Still others retained bulbous heads, tightly closed to stem. Their aroma was heady and bitter: pungent earth, tangy like fermented dirt. The snow within the ring was pristine, untouched by even animal prints, and the trail to the side was clearly visible.

Rhiannon backed away. “There’s something wrong with that circle.”

Leo knelt beside it, careful not to place his hand inside. He reached down, touching the ground beside the ring. “The magic here is deep—strong. Earth magic, but not friendly to us. I can feel it pulsing through the ground, touching the trees and plants all around here.”

I reached out, trying to listen, but my power lay with the wind and there was little I could latch on to. “Kaylin, what do you think?”

Kaylin motioned for us to move back from it. “Rhiannon is right—this Faerie ring is a trap. Don’t step inside, don’t even put a single finger inside of it. I don’t know exactly what would happen, but it’s waiting for its next victim.”

“Grieve said to skirt the outside of it. From here, we walk for another hour until we come to what he called the Twin Oaks. There we’ll turn right after stepping between them, and we’ll be at the Marburry Barrow.” I glanced at the sky, wondering how long we’d been out here so far. It was cold and getting colder, but I wasn’t willing to turn around and go home yet. “Anybody have any idea of what time it is?”

Kaylin flipped open his cell phone. “Reception here, not so good, but the clock says we’re going on ten thirty. It took us an hour to cross the ravine and talk to Chatter. So if we keep a good pace, we should reach the Barrow at a little before noon.”