

JUSTIN ELLIOTT

The Lord of Beasts Book 2

Published by by Justin Elliott

Copyright 2012 Justin Elliott

Smashwords Edition

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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical or digital, including photocopying, recording, storage in any information retrieval system, or otherwise, without prior written permission of the publisher.

Cover design by Kura Carpenter

**Smashwords Edition, License Notee:** This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

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Many thanks to Kura. Not only for the wonderful cover, but for all the other help freely offered.

This one's for my parents who have always offered me love, encouragement and support through out my life - no matter what I was doing.

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Table of Contents

Chapter One – A Debt Owed

Chapter Two – The Keeper's Advice

Chapter Three – Future Mirror

Chapter Four – An Unexpected Journey

Chapter Five – Back to Feygate

Chapter Six – Rat Boys

Chapter Seven – The Guardian

Chapter Eight – The Boggart

Chapter Nine – Rescuing Whistler

Chapter Ten – Whistler's Tale

Chapter Eleven – The Mouse Hole

Chapter Twelve – Prey

Chapter Thirteen – The Dark Court

Chapter Fourteen – The Harpist

Chapter Fifteen – Music of the Dream

Chapter Sixteen – Flight

Chapter Seventeen – Harried

Chapter Eighteen – Glamour Form

Chapter Nineteen – The Dark Gate

Chapter Twenty – Payment Made

Chapter Twenty-one – Regent's Court

Chapter Twenty-two – The Last Stand

Chapter Twenty-three – A Sacrifice

Chapter Twenty-four – Return

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## Chapter One

## A Debt Owed

"We have to help him, he's a prisoner. The Dark Court is using him."

Fourteen-year-old Hunter Greenman rubbed absently at his arm. The fracture received during the battle with the Barghest had healed well, though it still hurt a little in the cold weather and this March seemed colder than usual. The healing had finished though and now it was time to act.

"All I'm saying," replied Donn Richards in his husky, quiet voice, "is how do you know it's not a trap?"

In frustration, Hunter scrubbed his hands through his brown hair. "I just know, all right."

"Another dream?" Brigid McCann, who was sitting opposite Hunter in the school cafeteria, looked up from the slop she was eating. Brigid was a riot of colour compared to Donn. Whereas Donn wore a dark denim jacket and an old pair of faded black jeans, Brigid's jersey, long skirt and scarf seemed to compete with each other for brightest colour. Even her shoulder-length flame-red hair was in complete contrast to the black-haired, ponytailed Donn.

"Yeah," said Hunter.

The Harpist had started visiting Hunter in his dreams soon after the strangeness with the faeries had begun. In his last visit, at the same time as revealing that he was a prisoner, the Harpist had also told Hunter that he was his father. This was something that Hunter had not yet shared with the others.

"How do we know that it's not some faery trick, though?" Donn persisted.

"Because I know!" Hunter banged the table in frustration at having to repeat himself.

Brigid leaned over towards him. "Donn's right, Hunter. I mean, with the glamour they can look like anything they want."

"Yeah, but..." Hunter's reply was interrupted by the arrival of Sara Kinney.

"What are we talking about?" she asked as she sat in a chair beside Hunter.

Everything about Sara was immaculately presented, from her designer clothes to her long blonde hair. She graced them with a dazzling white smile.

"Decided to slum it, have you?" Donn asked.

Sara glared at him but otherwise ignored his comment. Hunter couldn't help himself; he glanced over at the 'in crowd' that Sara had just left. They were all looking at her with looks of disbelief and disapproval. Sara seemed to split her time between them and Hunter, Donn and Brigid. Hunter guessed that the 'in crowd' only put up with this because of her looks and money - two things that were important to them and to Sara.

"Hunter's dreamt about the Harpist," said Brigid after returning Sara's smile.

Sara sighed. "I thought we had finished with all that faery stuff."

"I don't know if we can ever be finished with them," said Brigid.

"The Harpist's a prisoner," said Hunter. "Of the Dark Court."

"And?" prompted Sara.

"We should go and rescue him," said Hunter.

"If it is him," said Donn.

"Why should we help him?" asked Sara.

"We owe him," said Hunter. "Without him the Barghest would've won." And he's my father, he added quietly in his own mind.

"Aye, we do owe him." Brigid looked at Donn as she spoke. "You wouldn't be sitting there if it weren't for him."

"Look, I agree we owe the guy, OK. But how do we know what Hunter saw was true? We've all seen what faeries are capable of."

A few months ago Hunter wouldn't have believed that he would be sitting around the table now with three friends discussing faeries. But after the events of last autumn it seemed only natural.

"Why don't we go and visit Old Man Price," said Donn.

"The old guy who lives out on the edge of the village? Why? What would he know about any of this?" asked Brigid.

Donn shrugged with a grin. "Nothing, but I hear he sells beer to kids from his cellar."

Hunter glared at Donn, as both Brigid and Sara said in unison, "Donn!"

"It'd be better than walking into a trap." Donn looked at the others. "Seriously though, does anyone have any idea of how we can find out what's what?"

"We could ask the Keeper," said Brigid.

"Why would he know if what Hunter saw in his dream was true or not?" asked Sara.

"He might not," said Brigid, "but he's sure to know of someone who does. He might also be able to tell us some more about the Dark Court."

Chairs scraped against the ground as students stood to move on to their afternoon classes; the clink of dishes as the cafeteria staff collected the dirty dishes also echoed around the large room. The four friends stood, and shouldering their bags, also began to make their way back to their classroom.

"You're right," said Hunter. "Let's make sure before we do anything. We'll go and see the Keeper and then decide what we're going to do after that. Agreed?"

Donn and Brigid agreed, only Sara didn't say anything. She walked in silence until the others all stopped and looked at her. She stood staring back at them, her arms crossed. She sighed loudly in an explosion of breath.

"OK, OK. I'll come too. You guys would get into too much trouble without me anyway."

"Grand," said Brigid. She walked to Sara and linked arms with the taller girl.

As they walked down the corridor, they began making plans for their visit to the faery they knew as the Keeper. They decided that they would all meet at Hunter's that night and from there go to the scrap yard where the Keeper lived.

Hunter's mother had already left for work by the time he got home from school. She was working the dinner shift at the restaurant so Hunter knew that she wouldn't be back till late. He heated his supper and wolfed it down, then went and slumped onto the worn sofa in the living room. Relaxing, he closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. The Harpist hadn't visited him in his dreams since the night he revealed he was Hunter's father, even though Hunter took every chance he had to try and encourage it. A nagging feeling kept gnawing at him that time to rescue his father from the Dark Court was running out.

A soft, scuttling noise sounded from behind the sofa. Hunter opened his eyes and smiled.

"I don't think you'll find anything back there. Want some cheese?"

A small, brown mouse scuttled out from behind the sofa and stood on its hind legs, looking at him. Its whiskers twitched for a moment, and then in a high-pitched voice it said, "Cheese? Did you say cheese?" It swiped one front paw over its whiskers and then looked at him again. "I'm partial to a bit of cheese."

Hunter grinned. "Yeah, I guessed as much. I'll get you some but first, is the Keeper still at the scrap yard?"

"How would I know? I'm a mouse. Now, do I get that cheese?"

"You knew last time."

"Yeah, but then he sent messengers. I haven't been to the scrap yard for a moon cycle."

Moon cycle... moon cycle? It dawned on Hunter that the mouse had meant a month. "And he was there then?"

The mouse sighed and spoke slowly, carefully pronouncing each word; it made Hunter feel like an idiot.

"He's the Keeper, it's where he lives."

Hunter stood, causing the mouse to scuttle away a few steps. "I'll get that cheese."

By the time the others arrived, the mouse was in raptures as it nibbled on a piece of cheddar that Hunter had cut for it. He could still hear its voice murmuring about the 'food of the gods' as he, Donn, Brigid and Sara left the house.

Hunter felt a little better as they walked towards the scrap yard. It may not be the direct action he had been hoping for, but at least they were doing something.

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## Chapter Two

## The Keeper's Advice

Thunderous barking greeted them as they neared the gates to the scrap yard. Two large mastiffs came sprinting towards them, looking like they would barge right through the wire mesh gate that Hunter, Donn, Brigid and Sara now stood before.

"Hi Kera, hi Kris," said Hunter with a smile.

The two dogs skidded to a halt, the stubs of their tails wagging flat out.

"Greetings, Hunter. It gladdens me to see you once more," said Kera. She raised her paw onto the gate as she spoke.

Kris sat down and put his large head to one side. "I guess you're bringing trouble with you again?"

"Good to see that your personality has brightened," said Hunter looking at Kris and smiling.

Kera panted, her tongue lolling out in what Hunter recognised as a laugh. Kris looked at Hunter and winked. "Well, are you coming in, or are you going to make your friends stand there all night?"

Hunter cast a look at Donn, Brigid and Sara. They stood to one side talking amongst themselves. He knew to them the mastiffs sounded like they were growling and not talking at all.

"We're here to see the Keeper. Is he in?"

"He is now," said Kris. "Get in here. Why do you humans always look so untrustworthy when you are milling about in groups?"

The dogs backed up and Hunter opened the gate, having to lift it so that it cleared the ground. The hinges squealed in protest as he pushed it wide enough for them to enter. There seemed to be no order to the rusting scrap iron that was scattered about the yard. Old empty husks of cars, windows broken and tyres missing, lay next to battered and scratched remains of freezers. Iron girders covered with a thick crust of rust were stacked everywhere.

The cool wind whistled between the discarded piles, making Hunter feel cold. He dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat and led the way in, skirting around a large, red-tinged puddle. Kera and Kris fell in beside him, and Donn, Brigid and Sara followed close behind as he led the way towards the shack in the middle of the scrap yard.

It looked like the building had been thrown together using material from the yard itself, and it leaned at a worrying angle. Hunter thought he could see the whole building shake as the wind hit it.

He knocked at the crooked door and then had to make a couple of attempts before he managed to force it open. They all went inside, leaving Kera and Kris to their patrolling of the fence lines.

They all stood just inside the door looking at the Keeper, who stood at a small workbench opposite, searching amongst the huge pile of mechanical and electrical parts that was scattered on the bench's surface. He turned, holding an old toaster with an element hanging out in one hand, and a speaker from a radio in the other.

He smiled at them, then said, "C'mon, don't just stand there, you make the place look untidy."

"We make the place look untidy?" said Donn in a quiet voice, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from Brigid.

"Thank you, Kore," she said as she led them to the battered table to their right.

Hunter's eyes had begun to water the moment he had come in the door, and now he could see why. The old wood burner, standing in one corner of the shack, belched smoke into the room from cracks and holes that riddled its old chimney. The smoke hung in a blue haze fighting to get out of the small gap Hunter could see where the chimney went through the ceiling.

"Sit you down, and I'll get some tea." The Keeper put down his treasures and scrubbed a hand through his grey hair that radiated from his head in unruly spikes.

As he bustled around the burner heating a kettle of water, he sung to himself in a voice that sounded nothing like his usual cracked and wheezy one. His singing voice was high and melodic, sounding almost haunting as it echoed about the room. When the Keeper was done, he turned, rubbed the back of one hand across his very pointy nose and looked at them.

"Right then, what can I be doing for you?"

"I've been having these dreams with a Harpist in them," said Hunter. "He's named Bardon Hearpere."

Hunter paused as the Keeper stirred. "Bardon Hearpere. Now there's a name I haven't heard for a good long time. Could play a fine harp, could Bardon."

Hunter frowned. "You know about him?"

"Course I do. I may spend most of me time here in your mortal world, but I do get back to Faery now and then. He's a mortal that some of the fey heard plucking away at his harp some time back. They decided that his music would sound just fine in Faery and, as they did back then, kidnapped him."

"Why didn't he just leave?" asked Sara.

"They fed him, you see," replied the Keeper. "Once he ate, well then, he couldn't leave. Not if he wanted to live, that is. Anyway, I reckon he began to like it there, and his music... well, it were like magic in Faery, he was that good."

"What happened to him?" asked Donn.

"He just faded from view. It were about the time the Dark Court got powerful, and the rumour is he went and joined them."

"He's a prisoner," said Hunter.

The Keeper cocked one eyebrow and leant his head to one side. "He's been talking to ya, has he?"

Hunter nodded. "He helped us when we fought the Barghest, and we owe him."

"But we want to know if what he told Hunter is true before we do anything," said Donn looking directly at Hunter.

Hunter bit back a response and instead turned to the Keeper. "Is it?"

"Is it what?"

"True. Is he a prisoner?"

"How do I know? Could be anyone in them dreams of yours. Could be Tethra his self."

As Hunter slumped back in his chair, a feeling of frustration threatening to overwhelm him, Brigid asked, "Who's Tethra?"

"Who's Tethra? Why, he's only the boss of the Dark Court, he is. He's the one that started all this. You don't want to be tangling with him."

"Look, is there a way of finding out about the Harpist?" asked Hunter, his voice snapping into the conversation.

"Manners, lad, manners." The Keeper looked at him sternly then rubbed at his chin. "There might be someone who could be helping you. She's a strange one though, is Emmeline, but she should be able to show you what's what with the Harpist one way or t'other."

Hunter sat forward. Finally, they were getting somewhere. "Who's this Emmeline?"

"Can look into the past and future, can Emmeline. Has the sight, you know." The Keeper bustled over to the stove, where the kettle had begun a shrill whistle, and began making tea. In a rushed voice he added, "She's a hag."

"I know lots of hags," said Donn.

"Not like her, I'd wager," replied the Keeper, exposing his teeth in what passed as a smile.

"What's a hag?" asked Sara.

Hunter looked at Brigid. Her eyes were staring into the middle distance, not focused on anything. An expression Hunter knew Brigid got when she was using her power to seek knowledge. Soon the vacant expression cleared and she seemed to become more focused. "A hag is a faery associated with the seasons. They're the witches of faerytale, strong in certain magic and, er... well, they're supposed to eat children."

"Only when they're really hungry," said the Keeper, as he returned to the table carrying a tray of steaming mugs of tea.

"We better make sure we see her just after lunch then," said Donn. "I suppose we are going to see her, aren't we?"

"I am," said Hunter.

"Aye, if you're going then so am I," said Brigid.

"That's what I thought," said Donn nodding his agreement.

They looked at Sara, who sat with her arms crossed looking at them with narrowed eyes. "OK, OK, I'll go, but I'm telling you now if I get as dirty as I did last time, someone's going to pay."

"Right then," said the Keeper. "If you're set on going, then I'll tell ya where to find her and some precautions to take to make the visit safe...

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## Chapter Three

## Future Mirror

"Where are you off to today?" Hunter's mother cleared the breakfast dishes from the table and carried them to Hunter who stood at kitchen sink scrubbing a dirty plate.

"I'm going to go around to Donn's." He placed the plate into the rack and picked up a tea towel to help his mother dry.

"And then?"

Hunter almost dropped the plate he was drying. Catching it just in time, he moved to the cupboard to put it away. He didn't like lying to his mother, but then he knew she wouldn't be happy knowing they were heading off into the hills beyond the town. His mother had thought that he had been out walking when he had been hurt fighting the Barghest, something she still put down to a dog attack.

"We haven't got any plans. We'll probably just play cards or something."

"Sounds nice," said his mother removing her apron. "Be home for dinner, OK. I'm on lunch shift today and thought we could spend the night together."

Hunter nodded, it would be good to spend more time with his mother; she tended to work in the evenings, and Hunter didn't get to see her during the day because of school.

"Off you go. I'll finish up here."

"Thanks, Mum."

Hunter beamed at his mother and then paused only long enough to grab his coat and give her a quick hug before leaving.

He jogged through the sleepy streets of Feygate, his breath misting before him. Although there was a light frost on the ground and it was cool, the sky was clear and the day promised to be fine. He checked his watch - if he jogged all the way he would be about on time. They had all agreed to meet at the gates to Feygate Hall. There they would cut across the hall's grounds and find the pathway through the Hartford Forest that the Keeper had told them about.

He arrived at the same time as Brigid, her bright jumper and skirt almost glowing in the morning sun.

"Hi," she smiled and just allowed him to return the greeting before launching into a tirade of speech. "It seems funny to be meeting here, doesn't it? I haven't been here since the Barghest, have you? Still, I expect we'll be having no adventure like that again. I'm looking forward to seeing the hag. I've never seen one before...

Hunter just let Brigid speak. He had learnt from experience that trying to stop her talking was like trying to stop the tide rolling in. He just nodded or shook his head, said 'yes' or 'no' as required.

Donn wandered up still wearing his battered-looking denim jacket and jeans. The only concession he had made to the cold was a pair of fingerless gloves. Brigid barely paused to say hello before continuing to talk, her conversation flitting from topic to topic like a hummingbird feeding. Donn smiled at Hunter and leant up against the wall, his arms crossed.

Brigid only stopped when Sara turned up. She wore an expensive-looking all-weather coat cinched at the waist, and a pair of dark jeans, the cuffs tucked into the top of some leather walking boots. She carried an old bag in one hand slightly away from her body.

"Here, I'm not carrying that any longer." She threw it to Donn who caught it and slung it over one shoulder. Sara paused for a moment and then grinned. "Now that we're on our way it's kind of exciting, isn't it?"

"That's what I've just been saying," said Brigid.

"And saying, and saying," said Donn.

Both Brigid and Sara shot scathing looks at Donn, who just smiled in response.

"Let's go, then," said Hunter and he led the way through the gates.

"So, what's the ham that I got from cook for, anyway?" asked Sara.

"The hag's supposed to eat that rather than us," said Donn.

"Maybe I'm not excited about this any more," she replied.

By the time they made it to the forest and found the path, the day had begun to heat up. Hunter and Sara had removed their coats and tied them about their waists, and Brigid had pushed up the sleeves of her jersey. The walk through the forest proved pleasant. The trees blocked some of the heat from the sun, and old leaves littered the path so that it was soft to walk on.

Hunter had always liked the sounds and scents of forests: the sigh of the wind in the trees, the birds whistling and flying overhead, the earthy scent of the leaf litter and the occasional scent from some wild flower or other. He enjoyed it even more this time because he could understand what the birds were calling in their whistling voices. They were calling out to mates, warning other birds to keep away from their property, or just singing in joy. He could also sense a few wild pigs searching for food deeper in the forest, and some rabbits startled by their presence, seeking their burrows and safety.

By eleven o'clock, they had made it to the edge of a large hollow. The trees below them seemed to be thicker, and it appeared much darker down at the bottom where they could only see the path for a short distance before it plunged into the deep shadows. Hunter could make out a plume of blue smoke rising from the centre of the hollow, and as the Keeper had warned them to do, they sat down and waited.

They didn't have to wait long. The hag appeared out of the darkness below without a sound and walked up the hill towards them. She wore a green cloak wrapped about her and walked with a staff - although she didn't appear to need its aid, as she nimbly climbed the path and stopped just below them. The confines of her deep hood hid her features, but Hunter could tell she was looking at them.

Donn passed Hunter the bag containing the ham, and Hunter took a few steps forward, going over in his mind the words the Keeper had told him to say.

"We seek answers hidden in the mists of time and the chaos of the future. Will you use your sight to pierce these mists for us? Use your wisdom to make pattern from the chaos?"

Emmeline's hood dipped as she nodded once. "You have something for me?"

"In appreciation for the task you will undertake for us," replied Hunter. He placed the bag before him and took two steps back.

Without her touching it, the hood fell back from Emmeline's face and rested about her shoulders. Hunter had expected a wrinkled old woman but was surprised to see that she appeared to be only a little older than he was. In fact, with her thick dark hair and large eyes, Hunter would've almost thought her pretty if it wasn't for the green tinge to her skin, her violet coloured eyes and her needle sharp teeth that she was now showing in a smile.

She reached forth a long-fingered hand, each finger tipped by a black fingernail sharpened into a point, and grasped the bag.

"Excellent," Emmeline's voice was high but musical. "Come, we will go back to my abode, and I will help you as I can."

She didn't pause to see if they followed but turned, her cloak flaring about her slender body, and began to make her way back down the path.

Hunter and the others hurried to catch up.

"I thought we were meeting some old crone," Donn said under his breath.

"So did I," said Hunter.

"I guess it's to do with the season," said Brigid. "It's spring so she's young again. She must appear old in the winter."

Even though they had been nearly whispering Emmeline had obviously heard them. She turned her head slightly.

"You are correct, mortal. It is good not to feel pain in my bones again; I can be more than a little grumpy in winter."

"Lucky we didn't come a few months back then," said Donn.

"That is true," said the hag. "I am of better temper in the spring... though much more hungry!" She turned and stared at them, her sharp teeth exposed in a snarl. Then she cackled in laughter. "I jest, I jest. Come, 'tis not far to go."

It was like someone had turned off a light switch as they reached the bottom of the path and began to enter the old forest at the bottom of the hollow. At one point they were in the light, then with the next step they were plunged into darkness. However, it didn't take Hunter's eyes long to adjust, and he realised that it wasn't really dark, rather it was like the light being passed through a dark green filter. Everything under the mighty branches of the ancient evergreens had a green hue to it, the hag's skin now appearing almost emerald.

The trunks of the trees were pitted and gnarled, covered in mosses and creeping vines. The pathway they walked upon was trodden down earth and was bare of the rotten vegetation that carpeted the rest of the ground. The noise had also changed: whereas up above it had been mostly birdsong that made up the background noise, here it was insects. They chirped, rasped and clacked all about them. Try as he might Hunter couldn't communicate or read the thoughts of any of them; it seemed that insects were too alien even for the Lord of Beasts.

At a point where the path split at a large tree stump, forking in two directions, Emmeline led them to the left. They followed her only to find their path blocked by a spur of rock that seemed to erupt from the far wall of the basin. There was a small creek running from it to their right, and it wasn't until Hunter followed this back with his eyes that he noticed the cave.

"Welcome to my home," said Emmeline and smiling her wolf's smile she made her way up to the spur and bending almost double she crawled into the cave.

They all stood there a moment before Donn murmured, "She's probably got it set up so we crawl into her oven, or something like that."

Brigid marched forward, "I wonder what a hag's cave looks like?"

"I guess we're about to find out," said Donn and followed her through.

Hunter gave Sara an encouraging smile and let her enter the cave before him, and then taking a deep breath, he followed.

To Hunter's surprise, it seemed very comfortable inside. A fire burned in the centre of the cave, the smoke funneled out through a natural chimney formed by a crack in the rock. A couple of ropes had been strung up across the ceiling, and these were festooned with all kinds of drying herbs, lending a potpourri scent to the living area. Along the far wall, there were shelves and shelves of stoppered bottles full of all kinds of powders and liquids.

"Sit, sit." Emmeline motioned them to some comfortable looking cushions that were placed to one side of the fire. One by one they sat down. Emmeline removed her cloak, and arranging her long dress, that looked like it was made from flax, about her, she sat opposite. "I am sorry if you find it a bit hot in here; I still feel the cold more than I'd like. Now, what is it that I can do for you?"

"I... we... need to find out if Bardon Hearpere is the prisoner of the Dark Court? If he is being used by them?" asked Hunter without pause.

"The Dark Court? Yes, I thought that this might be the nature of your query. Tethra is hidden to me, as are his followers, so I cannot see them directly." She held up a hand to forestall the deluge of comments and questions that had started. The hag continued as Hunter, Donn, Sara and even Brigid lapsed into silence. "There is, maybe, another way to show you what you need to know. Yes...

She smiled. At the sight of her expression Hunter's gut seemed to twist, Sara fidgeted in her seat casting a look back at the cave entrance, Brigid leaned forward, her eyes open wide, only Donn seemed to be unmoved by that smile.

"I have in my possession a mirror," said Emmeline. "A mirror that will show you the future, or more precisely a possible future."

"Possible future?" asked Brigid.

"The future is not written in stone. Every action, including the choice of inaction, can cause ripples that will change and alter the future. For example, your choice not to involve yourself in the faeries' war has molded the possibilities of the current future; your choice in coming to see me has changed those possibilities again."

"Hang on," said Donn. "How do you know about us and the war?"

There was that smile again. "You'd be surprised, Kin of Ankou, just what I do know."

Sara leant forward and placed a hand on Donn's arm stopping him from commenting further. "What good will this mirror do us?"

"The one you seek is hidden in the past; he is also hidden to us in the present; but in the future, as it will only be a possible image of him, you may see this Bardon Hearpere."

"We might see him? Aren't you going to be doing the scrying for us?" asked Brigid.

"The mirror works only for mortals. Oh, I will help you find the vision, but it is you who must seek your own answers once the vision begins."

"What do we do?" Hunter's heart had begun to beat a little faster. Soon he might be seeing his father again, might be finding the answers he needed in order to rescue him.

"First there are some rules you must abide by," said Emmeline.

"Aren't there always," said Donn.

"First, under no circumstances should you touch the mirror."

"Why's that, then?" asked Brigid.

Hunter sighed; sometimes his friend's incessant talking and questions could be annoying. He just wanted to get on with it. The hag just smiled.

"It is enough to know not to do it. I will place the mirror before you; when you look into it do not talk, for if you do you will corrupt what you see. Concentrate on what you want to see, and the mirror will show what it will. You may each see different things, or you may all see the same, but remember what you see is a possible future only, a future that may change due to actions yet to be taken. Now...

The hag stood and walked over to a large form shrouded in a thick cloth covering. She picked it up and carried it back, placing it in front of the four friends.

"Behold, the Future Mirror!" With a flourish, she pulled off the cover revealing what appeared to be a sheet of bronze. Its surface was polished to such an extent that Hunter could see their blurred forms reflected in it. The reflected figures were distinct enough that he could recognise each of his friends and was clearly able to make out Sara adjusting her hair as she stared into the mirror.

"Now, think of Bardon Hearpere, of his music, and of the Dark Court, and we shall see what the mirror displays."

Hunter tried his hardest to picture his father. His thin face, trimmed goatee, his harp cradled in his lap. He also tried his hardest to recall the toe-tapping music of the harp. As he stared into the mirror, Hunter was dimly aware of the hag throwing something in the fire. The flames flared green, and a cloying, spicy scent filled the cave.

Then the reflection in the mirror jumped, lengthened, then fractured into thousands of coloured dots and lines.

"Ah, it begins," Emmeline's voice sounded faint as the dots and lines in the mirror moved together forming an image so clear that Hunter could've believed he was looking out a window.

And as Hunter watched in amazement, the mirror began to show him the future.

* * * *

## Chapter Four

## An Unexpected Journey

It took a moment for Hunter to work out what the mirror was showing them. His point of view moved so fast that everything was a blur, a spinning vortex of green. As he got used to what the mirror was showing, he realised they were spinning round and round Emmeline's cave. The mirror must have been waiting for this recognition, for no sooner had Hunter realised what he had been seeing, then they seemed to shoot off into the forest.

The mirror showed the old trees of the basin speeding by, then they were passing through the younger forest, dodging trees and skimming over the top of fallen logs and debris. Hunter found himself clutching at the corners of his cushion and heard one of his friends gasp a couple of times at what appeared to be near misses.

Then, as the view seemed to burst out of the trees, it gained height and slowed, giving them a good view of the Hall's grounds, and in the distance Feygate Hill itself. Hunter frowned, something appeared wrong with what he was seeing.

"What has the ground keeper been doing?" Sara's voice snapped into the silence.

"Hush," said Emmeline. "You must concentrate or the vision will be lost."

That was it though. Feygate Hall's grounds were usually kept immaculate by the staff, but the grounds they were seeing appeared unkempt, even overrun. The grass was long, and brush and gorse had begun to encroach from their normally orderly hedges. A flash of movement caught Hunter's eye, and a rabbit shot from a patch of nettles - it seemed to be misshapen with an unusual growth on its back.

Hunter sat forward, staring intently; the growth had arms and legs. It waved one arm above its head as it rode the terrified rabbit rodeo style. The rabbit turned and seemed to speed towards the mirror. Hunter could see the little rider's green eyes blazing with mischief as its red hair streamed behind it in the wind. The view began to shift again, and as it did Hunter saw another figure like the one riding the rabbit, rolling on the ground near the nettles, clutching its sides as it laughed.

"They're Pixies!" said Brigid.

The image flared and began to waver.

"Concentrate! Accept what you see, comment later. Think now only of the Harpist." Emmeline sounded more amused than angry. She again added something to the fire, and as a fresh wave of the spicy odour enveloped them, the picture firmed up again.

Feygate Hill now dominated the mirror, and as they sped towards it, they rose higher until they seemed to be heading straight for the standing stone that formed the gateway to the faery world. A thrill passed through Hunter as they came closer. The gate was open; faeries of all shapes and sizes were passing back and forth through the gate. He recognised a couple of Red Caps walking down the hill from the gateway, just as a mob of Phooka entered the gate. There were other faeries that Hunter didn't recognise milling about the hill as well.

"When the vision passes through the gate you should be where Bardon Hearpere is. Concentrate now," said Emmeline.

Hunter held his breath as they began to speed forward. Soon he would see his father, could prove to the others that his father was a prisoner of the Dark Court, and then they could do something about rescuing him. He held his breath as they hurtled towards the top of the hill.

They passed through the gateway and soared over a rolling plain, before spinning around so that they were looking back in the direction from which they had just come. Hunter gasped, there could be no mistaking what he was seeing - a circle of standing stones, made up of a series of uprights and lintels, positioned on a plain with a road running nearby. He was looking at Stonehenge.

A bright glow pulsed in the ancient circle's centre, being fed from streams of light that emanated from the individual gateways. He could make out the figures of faeries camped around the ancient structure, and his heart leapt as he realised he could hear harp music.

The image froze.

"You are not welcome here. Leave, now!" Emmeline shrieked.

Hunter spun around to see a number of strange-looking creatures bursting into the cave. Although they walked upright on two legs, their bodies were those of snakes; in their hands they carried small darts and daggers. They milled about the cave entrance making it hard to count their number. One sidled forward, its tongue flicking out as it tasted the air.

"We only wantssss them, hag," its voice hissed and echoed in the cave.

"They are my guests and under my protection. Be gone. Attorcroppe are not welcome here."

"Givesss them to ussss and we will leave."

Why did this have to be happening now? Hunter risked a look at the mirror as the faery spoke. The image remained paused, looking like a photo.

"I will not," said Emmeline.

"Then we will takessss them."

As the Attorcroppe surged forward, Hunter sprang to his feet. He knew that if he and Donn could hold the little snake-things off from Brigid and Sara then the girls could use their powers to sweep the cave clear. He positioned himself in front of his friends. Donn must have had the same thought and came to stand by Hunter's side. With a snick, he released the blade of his flick knife.

The Attorcroppe in the front ranks of the surging mass stopped to throw their darts, as their brethren ran past, hissing loudly. The darts sped towards Hunter and his friends, a horizontal rain of destruction. There were too many for Hunter to dodge, and he braced himself, ready to feel their points piercing his flesh. A wind burst from behind him and stopped the darts in mid-flight, sending them scattering to the floor.

Hunter grinned; he'd have to thank Sara for that later; now if she could just direct a blast at the Attorcroppe... then the faeries were upon him.

To Hunter's left, Donn stepped forward, sweeping his knife before him. It seemed the Attorcroppe were terrified of the iron blade and pushed and shoved at each other to keep out of its reach.

Hunter pictured a cat pouncing at mice in his mind, as he gracefully dodged and attacked the faeries before him. His movements were restricted though; he couldn't allow any to get past him to Brigid and Sara. Soon he had a number of bleeding cuts on his arms and legs, and still Brigid and Sara had done nothing.

A lull in the fighting allowed Hunter to work out why. About half of the snake-like faeries had stayed back and were throwing volleys of darts. Sara's hands were full, catching these in her winds and preventing them from finding targets. Brigid also seemed to be busy; she was shooting thin streams of fire at the ceiling. Hunter took a brief look up and noticed that there were Attorcroppe skittering across the ceiling as well; only Brigid was stopping them from pouncing on Hunter and his friends' heads.

The snake faeries surged forward again, and although they fought hard, Hunter, Brigid, Donn and Sara found themselves steadily herded closer and closer together. They stood back-to-back for a moment, then Brigid raised a hand and a flaming wall encircled them in the centre of the cave. Hunter fought for breath as he looked around. He could make out the Attorcroppe circling around the fire. Emmeline stood against one wall, blasts of ice coming from her outstretched hands. Glittering forms of frozen Attorcroppe surrounded her, like small ice sculptures.

To Hunter's surprise the mirror that he and his friends had been forced up close to still showed its stalled picture of the future.

"There are too many of them," panted Brigid.

A volley of darts skittered across the ground at their feet.

"I can't see the darts through the flames," yelled Sara.

Hunter tried to work out what to do. If things stayed like this, the darts would eventually hit home, yet if Brigid let the fires die, then the Attorcroppe would overwhelm them. In little groups, the small faeries would've been no problem, but in these numbers...

"You must escape," Emmeline yelled from where she battled.

"Why didn't I think of that?" said Donn.

"You must touch the mirror with the Blood Metal," Emmeline yelled as she froze another Attorcroppe that had ventured too close.

"But you said... " began Brigid.

"I know what I said. This is the only way for you to escape."

Donn looked at Hunter, who nodded. What else could they do? Donn stretched out his hand holding the knife. The mirror began to whistle, a high-pitched, undulating shriek, and as the blade came closer the noise became shriller and louder until it seemed to be screaming. Donn paused for a moment and then stabbed the point of his knife into the reflective bronze surface.

A bright white spot appeared where the point of the knife had touched. The spot grew and grew, eating away at the image beneath, until all the mirror showed was a blinding, bright light. As the Attorcroppe hissed in anger outside the wall of flames, the mirror pulsed once, twice...

With a concussive force that knocked Hunter from his feet, the light exploded from the mirror. Hunter felt a piercing pain behind his eyes and blinded, fell to the floor.

* * * *

## Chapter Five

## Back to Feygate

Hunter blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to clear the blobs of colour that seemed to float before him. The only light he could make out was a faint glow that seemed to be seeping in through the cave's entrance. He scrambled to his feet, knocking into someone as he did.

"Watch it." Hunter recognised Donn's hoarse voice.

"Where are those snake things?" Hunter asked as he stared around blindly in the darkness.

"They're gone," said Donn.

"Who put the fire out?" asked Sara.

"Dunno. But there's no one here but us," said Donn.

"Hang on," said Brigid. "No one move now."

A small flame appeared off to Hunter's right, floating above Brigid's outstretched hand. Hunter squinted a little until his vision finally cleared and then looked about the cave.

Donn was right, there was no sign of the Attorcroppe, or of the hag.

"What happened?" asked Sara.

"Nothing good, I bet," said Donn.

Hunter had wandered over to where Emmeline's fire had been. There was only a dark scorch mark on the floor. He sniffed. He couldn't smell any smoke, just the damp, moist air of the cave.

"Look at the herbs." Sara was pointing up to the ropes where the herbs had been. The plants were now all withered and browned, most little more than twigs hanging to the ropes.

Hunter hunched his shoulders and looked about the cave. It didn't seem near as cosy in the flickering light provided by Brigid's flame. Ducking his head, he walked towards the faint light that marked the entrance.

"Let's get out of here," he said. "We might be able to see more from outside."

Hunter squeezed out of the cave mouth and went over to the creek. He could hear the others come out behind him as he splashed some cool water onto his face. Insects still hummed, buzzed and sang in the background, but their noise seemed louder to Hunter. He frowned as he dragged a sleeve across his face to mop up the excess water and then looked up at the others. "Anyone have any idea what just happened?"

They all shook their heads.

"Emmeline must have done something to make those Attorcroppe disappear," said Brigid.

"Doesn't explain the fire and those plants though, does it?" said Donn.

"Well I, for one, don't want to get caught out here if those snake-things return," said Sara, looking about at the dark trees that surrounded them.

"You're right, Donn, and so is Sara," said Hunter earning a beautiful smile from the blonde girl. "Let's put some distance between us and this cave. We can try to sort out what happened later."

The others agreed, and together they made their way back onto the path that cut through the dark, old forest. Hunter rubbed at his jaw as they walked on. The pathway looked very different than it had that morning. He guessed it was because they were travelling in the opposite direction. It seemed narrower, its edges less well defined. In several places, some small scrub bushes were growing over the path itself.

"Have we taken a wrong turn?" asked Donn. "This looks different."

"How could we?," replied Brigid. "There aren't any turns on this track we could take, let alone a wrong one. It's one way or the other."

"It's the right way," said Sara. She pointed ahead. "Look, there's the path where we walked down the hill with Emmeline."

Hunter could see the lip of the hollow rising before them, the younger, lighter trees seemed to beckon from the top of the bank. Where the old forest gave in to the new, a sapling stood in the middle of the path. It was unusual looking. It stood no taller than Hunter and had two long branches raised up from its thin, central trunk, in the shape of a 'Y'. The bottom of the trunk seemed to be split or made from two separate trunks that twisted around each other. It moved in the light breeze, swaying sinuously.

Hunter moved a couple of steps closer before he noticed that Donn had stopped; Sara and Brigid, unable to get past him on the path, had also halted.

"What's the matter?" asked Hunter.

"That tree's alive," Donn replied.

"Aren't all trees?" said Sara.

"Yeah, but all trees don't breathe. That's what that one's doing."

Hunter spun around to look at the tree again. It just looked like a tree to him. Sure, it was a strange shape, and the way it moved was unusual but it still just looked like a tree. He was just about to ask Donn how he knew it was breathing when the tree began to shake.

It seemed to quiver all over, as its two branches moved down so that they were held by the trunk's side like arms. Then, first one side then the other of the lower split trunk untwisted itself until they looked like legs.

"Hail, and well-met travellers." The tree shimmered and then in its place stood a child-sized faery. Her long, dark hair blew unbound about her, and her dark eyes twinkled as she laughed. She wore a diaphanous green dress, sleeveless and very short. It exposed a large amount of bark-brown, smooth skin. A crown of woven leaves kept her hair from her face, and what appeared to be a flowering vine cinched her dress in at the waist. She raised her arms in the air and danced towards them, her bare feet flashing in a complicated step.

"Oh, for goodness' sake," said Brigid. "It's like you've never seen a female before."

As she stepped in front of him, Hunter realised he had been staring at the dancing faery with his mouth hanging open. He closed it and looked around at Donn. Donn looked as sheepish as Hunter felt, and just beyond Donn stood Sara, her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed.

"Neither of you have looked at me that way before. What has she got that I haven't?" she snapped.

"It's not what she's got, it's what she's showing," Donn murmured risking another look at the faery.

Hunter could hear Sara sniff loudly as he too turned to face the faery who was now standing in front of Brigid, craning her neck so she could see over the short girl. The faery seemed to be staring directly at Hunter and Donn. Hunter felt a stirring in the pit of his stomach, and he stood up straighter, puffing out his chest.

"You're a Dryad," said Brigid, a sense of wonder obvious in her tone.

"Do you want both your men?" asked the Dryad. "I am not greedy and would be happy with one."

"What does she mean 'your men'?" asked Donn.

Sara smiled mirthlessly at Hunter and Donn as she walked past them to stand by Brigid. "What would you give us for them?" asked Sara.

The faery frowned. "I do not have much; I could take you safely past the Wild Hunt though."

Hunter felt strange. Part of him couldn't believe that the girls were talking about trading him, whereas another part wanted to go with the Dryad straight away. She was pretty but seemed vulnerable to him. Like she needed his protection, needed his love. He stumbled a step forward.

"No. We need them both," said Brigid.

"But... " Donn blurted.

Brigid flashed them a look over her shoulder. It looked to Hunter like she was trying not to laugh.

"'Tis a shame," said the Dryad. "It can be very lonesome looking after the forest."

"Will you let us pass through your forest, then?" asked Brigid.

The Dryad eyed Hunter and Donn up and down; Hunter's heart leapt for a moment, but then disappointment washed over him as she said, "Yes, I suppose I shall. Anyway, they're not very big, are they?"

Brigid didn't even try to hide her laughter this time.

Sara joined in. "No, they're not."

As they spoke the Dryad changed. Her dress grew down to her ankles and the sleeves to her wrists, and her skin took on a more bark-like appearance. Hunter felt more like himself again and couldn't understand why he had been so attracted to the faery. He looked over at Donn who shook his head and shrugged.

"You mentioned a Wild Hunt?" Brigid asked.

"Yes, they are in this area. They came through the gateway last night."

"The gate's open?" asked Sara.

The Dryad rolled her eyes. "Of course it is. Why would it be closed?"

"And the fey are passing freely through it?" asked Brigid.

"It's a gateway. It wouldn't be any use if you couldn't pass through it, would it?"

That made no sense. Hunter knew that it was hard for Faery to travel between their own world and this, even if they were using a gateway.

"What is the Wild Hunt... hunting?" asked Sara.

"Humans, like you, of course. You mortals are very strange. If you'd excuse me, the trees are calling."

The only sound Hunter could hear was the wind rustling through the forest's branches.

The Dryad half turned away, then stopped. "Are you sure you need them both? Yes? Oh, well." Then she was gone, stepping amongst the trees to one side of the path.

Brigid turned to Hunter and Donn. "You two might want to wipe your chins. They're covered in drool."

She laughed and began walking down the track again. Hunter could feel his face heat, and even though he knew that Brigid had been joking, he wiped his mouth with the back of one hand. Thinking back on it, he didn't understand why he had found the Dryad so attractive. He noticed girls of course, but he often felt tongue-tied and awkward around those he didn't know. He never stared out right at them and had never felt the way he had looking at the Dryad.

"I still don't understand what that faery had, that those two... Sara, without looking, pointed at Donn and Hunter with her thumb. "... found so exciting."

"Magic," said Brigid. "That's what Dryads do. Make themselves appear attractive to males so they can lure them and imprison them in one of their trees. Then... then, well I'm sure you can imagine what comes next.

Sara smiled at Hunter and Donn over her shoulder. "Magic to control men, eh? I wonder if she'd share it."

Hunter thought that now was a good time to change the subject. "What's this Wild Hunt she talked about?"

Brigid turned towards him, and her eyes glazed over for a moment as she used her power to search for the knowledge.

"It is a mounted group of faeries. They sweep through the countryside hunting everything that's in their path. We best be careful, they are ruthless in what they do."

"What's the Keeper doing?" Donn asked in his husky voice.

Hunter looked at him. "What?"

"He must have let this hunt through."

"That Dryad said the gate was open," said Sara.

"Aye, but why is it open? It never was before, and it is supposed to be hard for faery to cross to our world anyway," said Brigid.

"Maybe we aren't in our world any more," said Hunter. He frowned as he thought about what he was saying. "Maybe whatever happened in the fight back there pushed us through to Faery. That would explain us seeing the Dryad, and why the path looks strange; the gate she is talking about might not be the one we're thinking of."

Sara looked around. "Well, this forest definitely seems different. More wild, overgrown, or something. Would it look like that in Faery?"

"Don't know," said Brigid.

"Well, there's one way to find out," said Hunter. "We go to the hall. If we're in faery then we'll find the village and the Dagda. If not, well, we'll find the hall itself. Either way that's where we need to go."

"Right you are, then," said Brigid, and she picked up her pace a little.

"Why do I get the feeling it's not going to be as easy as that?" asked Donn from behind, echoing just what Hunter had been thinking.

* * * *

## Chapter Six

## Rat Boys

From its position perched on the branch of the old tree the bird could plainly see the pixies waiting in the bushes below, ready to ambush the next unfortunate animal that passed along the small track.

With a thought Hunter asked the bird, whose vision he shared, to fly back to where the track forked. The bird flittered from branch to branch, tree to tree. Hunter concentrated; it was difficult using another animal's senses. The way they saw the world coloured everything he saw. Hunter wanted to crane his neck up, to search the skies for predators. It wasn't only that - flying, the quick bursts of motion, the way the eyes of the bird were on the side of its head and not the front, all combined to make it a demanding activity.

With a thought of 'thanks' and his head throbbing with a mild headache, Hunter withdrew his perception from the bird and turned to the others.

"The path forks ahead. There's Pixies down the track on the left. The one on the right's clear."

"Looks like we're going to have to take the long way again," said Donn.

That's the way it had been since they had left the cave. The forest seemed to be full of faeries. They had been dodging them all afternoon, tracing a weaving path in the rough direction of Feygate Hall's grounds. They had paused once to eat some berries from some wild blackberry bushes they stumbled upon, but other than that one stop they had been walking and often backtracking to keep clear of faeries.

"It can't be far now, though," said Brigid.

"It's not. When the bird I was using was up there," - Hunter looked up at the tree branches - "I could see the end of the forest. I reckon if we follow the right-hand track for a short way, we should find another track that will lead us back left and out."

"Assuming there's no more faeries about," said Sara.

"Even if we can't find another path, we should be able to bash through the forest itself. It doesn't look that thick any more," said Hunter.

"I know what I'd like to bash," said Donn, staring off in the direction Hunter had said the Pixies were.

They kept silent as they walked along the track and didn't talk again until the fork was a long way behind them. Even then, they talked in whispers, walking close together so that they could hear each other.

"This must be Faery," said Sara. "There's too many of them about for it to be anywhere else."

"I'm not sure," said Hunter.

"Aye, Faery has a feel to it. It feels... "

"Magical?" offered Donn.

"Right you are, magical." Brigid smiled at Donn.

Hunter hadn't thought about it before, but they were right. He had only been in Faery the once, but thinking back the whole place had been saturated with a feeling, one of promise, as if things could happen at any moment - wondrous things, or horrible. He didn't feel that now, he just felt normal.

Donn stopped, causing Sara to bang into him.

"Careful!" she snapped.

"Is that the edge of the forest?" Donn pointed off to their left.

Sure enough, it looked like the trees to their left thinned out, and it appeared much brighter in that direction.

"Looks like it," said Hunter.

"C'mon then. It doesn't look that hard. Let's get out of these trees." Expecting the others to follow her, Sara moved off the path and began threading her way through the trunks.

The other three walked after her. The only difficulty they had was when a sprawling morass of brambles blocked their way. There was nothing for it but to force their way through. After a little effort, and a good deal of scratches dealt to their hands and legs, they burst out of the forest and into the bright mid-afternoon sunlight.

They had travelled too far east in their efforts to evade detection. Feygate Hill was off to their left, looming over the green fields like a breaking wave, obscuring both the hall and the village from view. Hunter noticed that Sara was frowning.

"What's wrong?" he asked her.

She caught her long blonde hair that was blowing in the wind and producing a hair band from somewhere, swiftly tied her hair back in a ponytail.

"Look at the grounds," she said as she worked. "They're a mess, but they weren't like this when we passed through them earlier. We would never let the grounds keeper get away with... this. We must be in Faery."

The grass was long, just above ankle height. Hunter could also see wildflowers scattered about the fields and smell their sweet scent on the soft breeze. He thought that it looked more natural than the manicured grounds they had crossed in the morning. Although he thought Sara must be right, something kept nagging at Hunter. A doubt gnawed at him. Something strange had happened, and the only way to find out what, was to keep going.

"Any faeries about?" Donn asked.

Hunter closed his eyes and concentrated, seeking the minds of any animals that were about. He passed over the alien minds of the multitude of insects and kept searching for the minds of something more familiar. It didn't take him long to find them. There were a huge number of birds and rabbits, even some stoats and a fox out in the grass.

After a short moment, Hunter opened his eyes and looked at the others. "Nope. Nothing close anyway. I'll check again after we've been travelling for a bit."

The four friends made their way towards the hill, leaving a flattened trail behind them, the bruised grasses now lending their distinctive smell to the wildflowers. As the morning had promised, the day had turned out fine and warm. By the time they neared the hill, after stopping several times for Hunter to check for faeries, they had all stripped to their T-shirts.

Hunter couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. He trudged on in silence as the others talked around him, Brigid amusing the others with a story from her childhood. A crow cawed loudly off to their right, letting its brethren know that it had claimed this area for itself. Insects hummed softly in the warmth, and a host of other birds with high-pitched whistles called to each other.

A frown crossed Hunter's face. There was something missing. He concentrated, picturing a rabbit in his mind, its long ears twitching. The sounds seemed to crystallize around him. He could tell exactly where noise was coming from, knew what were safe noises and what could be the sign of an approaching threat. He could also hear a host of animal noises he hadn't been able to hear before, but there was one noise he should've been able to hear that was missing. There was no noise from the village. No cars, no voices, none of the usual plethora of sounds that went with even a small urban centre.

"Hey, guys," he said, stopping so that the others stopped about him. "I can't hear anything from the village."

"So that means we must be in Faery," said Sara.

"The thing is, I should be able to hear that village as well. Remember when we were there? There was all that music and those noisy markets. More than enough noise that I should be able to hear something by now."

The others looked at him for a moment as they thought about what he had said.

"Could we be somewhere else?" asked Brigid. "Maybe there is more than one phased world in reality."

Her eyes glazed over, a sign that she was attempting to find the answer from the pool of knowledge she had gained access to with her powers. She shook her head. "If there is, then I don't know about it."

"We could always ask them," Donn pointed up the hill.

A large number of figures had appeared silhouetted on the skyline like ambushing Indians in a cowboy movie. At this distance, Hunter couldn't make out what they were but their shapes were alien enough that they could only be faeries.

"Hide." Hunter scrambled towards some low, stunted bushes to his right and dove behind the cover of their dark green leaves. The others fell to the ground beside him.

"Do you think they saw us?" asked Brigid.

Hunter moved a branch out of the way so that he could see the figures on the hill. There was something about them... "Doesn't look like it."

"Are they that Wild Hunt thing that Dryad was talking about?" asked Sara.

"No, I don't think they are. They look... familiar though," replied Brigid.

"Rat Boys," said Donn, just as Hunter had realised what it was he was looking at.

Unbidden, the memory of being bullied by Rat Boys during their visit to the Faery Village came to his mind. He looked at Sara. The Rat Boys had seemed to take a particular liking to her.

She snorted and folded her arms. "Rat Boys... ill-bred rodents more like. They don't scare me."

"All the same," said Hunter, now staring back up at the distant Rat Boys who were milling about on the top of the hill, apparently playing some kind of game. "We should make our way around them. We need to find out what's happening."

The four of them scampered from bush to bush as they skirted the hill. When there was no more cover available, they sprinted until they reached the dry-stone wall that marked the edge of Feygate Hall's land. Then vaulting over it, they all sank to the ground, their backs against the wall, breathing deeply.

Hunter took a moment to catch his breath before looking about. He frowned. It was very quiet, only the sounds of birds and insects breaking the silence. There were no car sounds, no sirens, no hum of machinery. Small weeds were pushing their way through cracks in the footpath and road. To his right, part of the wall had crumbled leaving rocks scattered all over the path.

He frowned. "There's something odd going on. Everything looks so... "

"Run down," said Donn.

Hunter nodded.

Sara stood up. "This is stupid. The hall's just over there. Let's go and ask Mummy and Daddy what's happening."

Hunter surged to his feet and grabbed her by the arm. "Sara, we can't go that way."

Sara turned and stared at the hand clutching her upper arm, then looked up at Hunter, eyes narrowed, brow drawn down.

Hunter let go as he took a step back. "We won't be able to get to the hall without the Rat Boys seeing us."

"Hunter's place, we should go there," said Donn.

"Right you are," said Brigid. "Once there we can work out what's going on."

Sara brushed her hair from her eyes; when she looked back at Hunter she was smiling. "Sound's like a plan." She walked forward, linked arms with Hunter and began to drag him down the hill. "What are we waiting for?"

At first, they had joked and laughed as they walked into the village of Feygate. Now they walked in silence, eyes wide, as they looked about. Hunter felt violated. This was their home - here they were safe and didn't have to be worried about the faeries and what they were doing. Yet, everywhere there was proof that they were anything but safe.

Cars stood abandoned in the middle of the street, their doors wide open and swinging in the soft breeze. Donn had investigated one to find the keys still in the ignition, a bag and wallet left lying on the passenger seat. The windows of the shops on Main Street had been smashed, and what was left of their produce was strewn over the shop floors.

Viewed from the sun-drenched, bright light of the street, all the buildings appeared to be dark, threatening caves.

Without thought, the four friends had moved closer together and now moved in a tight knot in the centre of the road, as they made their way onto Pike Street.

"Where is everybody?" asked Sara.

"Looks like there's been a riot," said Donn.

Hunter felt numb. It was as if the whole village had been deserted in one violent instant. He stopped dead in his tracks.

"Mum!" He began running towards Centennial Park.

"Hunter!" Brigid called.

He could hear them running behind; he looked back over his shoulder to tell them to follow. Pain lanced through his head, and for a moment his vision flared red. When it cleared, he found himself lying on the ground looking up at a Rat Boy. It exposed its yellow incisors as it straddled him, raising its wooden club to hit him again. As Hunter raised an arm to try to defend himself a blast of wind whistled over him, sending the faery sprawling.

The others ran up and Donn hauled Hunter to his feet. "C'mon mate, they're behind us as well."

"Oh, we're not just behind you, mortal." The Rat Boy spoke from where it had landed and then squeaked in laughter. "Oh no."

As Hunter looked around, Rat Boys appeared from everywhere - from the overgrown playing fields, from behind abandoned cars, around the corner of Main and Pike - and began to close in.

There was a snick as Donn drew his knife, "C'mon, then! I've been wanting to hit something for ages." His usually husky voice was now deep and menacing, and the closest Rat Boys stepped away from him.

"There's so many of them," said Brigid. "What do we do?"

"We don't give in," said Hunter and launched himself forward. He was one with the animals whose power he shared - he summoned the strength and speed of a tiger, the agility of a mongoose, the cunning of a fox. Brigid's fire and Sara's tempest blasted about him as he danced and lunged, dodged and struck. Every time he knocked a Rat Boy down another faced him. Their numbers seemed inexhaustible, and soon those numbers began to tell.

A number of glancing blows had begun to slow Hunter down when he heard a scream from behind him. He spun around. A Rat Boy had managed to work its way behind Brigid and must have dived on her. She lay on her front, the Rat Boy pinning her down, too close for her to use her fire. Just beyond the fallen girl, Sara had turned to help, giving the faeries about her the chance to mob her as well. Throwing themselves against her, they bore her to the ground. The winds ripped at them but although a few tumbled off the melee, by sheer weight of numbers they kept her pinned.

Something crashed into the back of Hunter's legs, and he tumbled to the ground. Before he had stopped moving, Rat Boys were throwing themselves on him, holding him flat. He could just make out Donn surrounded by a sea of faery, all too scared to approach his iron knife and terrible visage, but too many of them for Donn to work his way through without leaving his back exposed.

The Rat Boys continued piling on Hunter until their struggling bodies hid his friends from view.

* * * *

## Chapter Seven

## The Guardian

Hunter could just make out, through the mass of bodies squashing him to the ground, the mournful, lonely sound of the church bell ringing. In a squirming, heaving mass, the Rat Boys slid from him, squashing his bruised body into the unforgiving hardness of the road. Hissing and moaning the Rat Boys, their hands held over their ears, staggered away leaving Hunter and his friends looking at each other in suprise.

The bell continued to toll, the sound echoing around the silent streets.

"What just happened?" asked Donn, walking over to help Sara to her feet. "Why'd they go, they had us?"

"They're scared," replied Brigid, straightening the bright scarf that she wore tied about her waist.

Hunter could see by the way the last Rat Boy scampered from view around a far corner that Brigid was right. He looked around trying to see what had scared them, before climbing to his feet.

"It's the bell," said Sara, attempting to batter the dust and dirt from her clothes. "They ran when it sounded."

"Who's ringing it, I wonder?" said Brigid.

Just as she spoke the bell stopped, the last chime seeming to last for an age as it echoed about the empty village streets, slowly becoming quieter and quieter, until they could no longer hear it. The four friends moved closer together as they stood staring at the arched gateway of the churchyard just on the other side of the road.

As the last echo died, a figure shambled into the gateway. Although squat, it was so broad that it filled the entire space left by the open gate. In the shadows it was hard to make out features, but Hunter knew of only one thing that was the same shape and size.

"The Guardian," he said.

"Well met, Lord of Beasts." The deep, grating voice of the gargoyle they knew as the Guardian was unmistakable. "I suggest that you and your friends come into the churchyard. Now that the bell is no longer ringing, the Rat Boys will return."

Hunter and the others looked down in the direction that the Rat Boys had gone. Was that some movement down behind that abandoned red car?

"Fear not, for no faery can enter the churchyard."

Sara brushed past Hunter. "Not him again," she said as she led the others through the crumbling archway.

It had been the Guardian that had guided them through the tasks they had needed to complete to get the Athame - when they had learnt of their faery power and of the war. Despite Sara's accusatory tone, Hunter didn't blame the gargoyle. In fact, he had always felt safe around the Guardian and believed that it had even tried to help them in its own way.

It wasn't until they moved through the shadowed gateway, entering the churchyard itself, that they could see the gargoyle clearly. Although the Guardian's surface had been pitted and cracked like old rock when they had first met, now it looked as if someone had been striking it repeatedly with a sledgehammer. Great chips and craters covered its body, making it look like the surface of the moon. From a couple of the deepest craters cracks radiated out, fanning across the surface of its stone body. The horn that extended from its left elbow had been snapped off, and the end of its tail also appeared to be missing, as did a chunk of one wing.

The Guardian stood impassively under their shocked scrutiny for a moment then stirred. "It is good that you have returned. The time that you have been away has been... testing."

"What time? We only left here this morning," said Donn, his forehead creasing in a frown.

"What's happened here?" asked Hunter.

"Are we in the faeries' world?" Sara asked at the same time.

With a loud grinding, the gargoyle turned to Sara. "No, you are in the churchyard, in Feygate village." Slowly he turned back to Hunter. "Do you not know what has happened, Lord of Beasts?"

Hunter shook his head as he looked at the others. They mimicked his action, showing that they, too, had no idea what was going on.

"Everything was fine when we left the village this morning," said Hunter.

"This morning? Hmmmm, I think it best if you told me your story."

Hunters gaze slid in the direction of his house. "But my mother... "

"There is something you need to know before you act, and I cannot tell you until I have first heard what happened to you. Trust me, Lord of Beasts."

With one last look towards home, Hunter began to tell of their travel into the forest and their meeting with Emmeline. The others chipped in, telling of the mirror and the fight, of the cave appearing empty after they touched the mirror and then their journey back to the village. The gargoyle listened in impassive silence, accept for when they mentioned touching the mirror, then he made a rumbling noise that came from deep within his chest.

"Now, can you tell us what's happened here?" asked Brigid once their story was finished.

"No," replied the gargoyle.

"Hang on!" said Donn, his voice rising until he was almost shouting. "You said... "

"I know what I said." The gargoyle's grinding voice easily drowned out Donn. " But you may not believe what I tell you. I think first it is best that you see something."

A sense of foreboding settled over Hunter as the Gaurdian led them around to the back of the church then pointed out into the graveyard that spread out behind the building. "You see that large weeping angel about a third of the way in." One by one the four nodded. "If you go and read the inscription, then you may believe what I have to tell you."

"But you... " started Donn.

"No, Kin of Ankou. Not until you have read the stone."

Donn breathed sharply from his nose and then began to pick his way through the graves. He spoke back over his shoulder. "C'mon then. Let's get this game over with."

Following Donn, Hunter threaded his way through the gravestones. The ones closest to the church were old, their inscriptions faint - almost scoured clear by time and weather. But as they neared the weeping angel the graves became newer and newer. They were only a few rows away when Brigid spoke from his right.

"Hey, look at this stone. They've made a mistake. The year on it's wrong."

"How do you know it's wrong?" asked Sara.

"Because it won't be this date for another couple of years," replied Brigid.

"This one's the same," said Donn, pointing to a stone to Hunter's left.

It made no sense to Hunter. Why were the dates on the stones all wrong? Why would the Guardian want them to read one particular stone? Unless... ¶

For a moment it felt to Hunter as if his heart had stopped and had been replaced by one of ice. Hoping he was wrong he sprinted to the angel and raced around to its front, his feet skidding on slick moss as he stopped. The ice in his chest slipped like a cold weight into his gut, as he read the inscription:

'Friends in life, friends in death

Hunter Greenman

Brigid McCann

Sara Kinney

Donn Richards

Lost, but forever alive in our hearts'

He traced his finger over the cold smoothness of the marble headstone, dimly aware of the sharp edges of the engraving through the numb feel that had enveloped him. The others gathered around him. One of them gave a sharp intake of breath, but that was the only sound to break the silence of the graveyard.

Donn moved up beside him, standing tall and silent, then he reached out a hand. As he did he seemed to grow taller, and for a moment his body looked skeletal and wreathed in dark shadow. Donn removed his hand, Hunter blinked, and his friend looked the same as normal.

"There's no one buried here," said Donn.

"Look at the date," said Brigid.

"That's not for months yet," snapped Sara. Her hands were on her hips, and she was staring at the headstone as if it had just insulted her.

"It's like the others," said Hunter. "We're not in Faery, we're in our world. Only... well, I think it is the future."

"Indeed, Lord of Beasts." Hunter jumped. How could something as large as the gargoyle move so silently? "It is close on three years since you went missing."

"Three years?" Brigid managed to whisper.

"Mum," said Hunter. "She thinks I'm dead." He began to move towards the gates.

"She is not there." The gargoyle's voice grated from behind him. "There are no humans left in the village."

"No humans?" parroted Brigid. "Where did they all go? What happened?"

"The Dark Court happened," the Guardian replied.

Hunter stopped and spun around. "What do you mean?"

The gargoyle managed a grinding shrug. "The Court has all but won. This world is now their world."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Donn demanded.

"Now that you have seen this," - the gargoyle raised a heavy, blunt finger until it pointed at their grave - "you may be able to believe what I have to tell you. You never returned from your journey to the forest. Your families searched for weeks."

"I don't have a family," said Donn.

"The one that looks after you, she searched also."

"The old bat, she was looking... for me?" Donn's gravely voice sounded gruffer than usual.

"As did many others," continued the gargoyle. "They searched for weeks without finding any trace of you. Eventually they stopped, and some months later this stone was raised."

"What's this got to do with the Dark Court," demanded Sara. Although her heart didn't seem to be in it, and her voice didn't carry its usual snap.

"I am coming to that, Child of the Tempest. Some small time after you disappeared, the trouble started. First, technology stopped working. Vehicles, the flying machines, anything that uses your human science just stopped. Then the faeries came. A few at first, then more and more. Although at first they fought each other, the Dark Court was much too strong and overwhelmed the trouping fey who opposed them, and soon they began to turn upon the mortals. They began driving humans into smaller and smaller areas, and then the Wild Hunt arrived."

"Our families," whispered Brigid. Hunter's heart seemed to be hammering against his ribcage.

"I do not know what became of them, Child of Flame. They had all left the village before the faeries came."

"I thought you were supposed to protect humans from things like the faery. What were you doing?" Sara almost screamed.

"Look at me." That was all that the Guardian needed to say. Hunter now recognised the cracks, pits and craters for what they were... wounds.

"I'm... sorry," Sara mumbled after staring at the gargoyle. A tear trickled down her cheek. Hunter fought back tears of his own, the thought of his mother leaving, thinking he was dead...

"Why are you still here?" asked Brigid in a quavering voice.

"I am tied to the churchyard. Also, there are still some few humans about that I can help. Although there is little I can do against the Wild Hunt."

"What is this hunt? First that tree faery was going on about it and now you," Donn said, retying his ponytail as he spoke.

"It is a group of some of the most powerful of the Dark Court. Anything is their prey, although they prefer mortals. What quarry the Hunt captures is taken back to thier master, Tethra."

"Why? What does this Tethra do with them?" asked Donn.

"I know not. I know only that you should avoid the Hunt. To encounter them is to encounter doom."

"OK," said Hunter, taking a deep breath in an effort to calm himself. "Somehow we've been thrown into the future. The question is, how do we get back to the present?" And our families, he added in his mind.

"I know of only two beings with the power to send you back in time. Tethra himself, or the Dagda."

"Of course." Brigid rounded on the others smiling. "Remember the Dagda said he could change reality. He'll get us back, right enough."

"Do you know where we can find him?" asked Hunter.

For a moment there was no answer except the whistle of the breeze as it battled past the bulk of the church. The gargoyle looked at them one by one, grinding as it slowly spun on the spot. "I do not know. The Dagda's forces are depleted, and he is on the run - from the Dark Court itself and also from the Wild Hunt."

"Oh, great," said Donn. "The thing you warn us away from also wants to find the Dagda. I knew I should have stayed in bed this morning."

"If they get to the Dagda before us, what will the Dark Court do?" asked Hunter.

"They will destroy him," replied the gargoyle.

"Which means... "

"You will be trapped in this time, forever."

* * * *

## Chapter Eight

## The Boggart

"So, we just need to find the Dagda before the Hunt do. Easy." Donn slumped to the ground and leant back against a gravestone.

"There must be some way... " Hunter scrubbed his face with the palms of his hands.

"What about the Keeper?" asked Brigid.

"You think he might know where the Dagda is?" Sara moved over to where Brigid stood.

"Aye, well he works, or at least worked, for him."

"Is he, the Keeper I mean, still here?" Sara looked at the Guardian.

"I have not seen him in the village, Child of the Tempest. But then, I no longer venture to the gate over which he held control. It may be that he can still be found there."

Sara sighed. "I thought you might say that."

Hunter turned and looked up at the hulking shape of Feygate Hill. Although he couldn't see the gateway to Faery, that sat at the top of the hill, he could feel it, pulling at him as though it were a magnet and he an iron filing. He shuddered; the last time he had gone up that hill he and the others had fought the Barghest. Hunter knew that he had been lucky to come off Feygate Hill alive after that confrontation.

He took a deep breath. "If that's where we need to go, then let's go."

"Hang on," said Donn. "I could do with a rest before tramping up that damn hill again."

"He is right, Lord of Beasts. Come into the church, rest for now. It will be easier to reach the hill in darkness. I can help you there."

"After being away from here for years, a few hours isn't going to hurt," said Donn.

For a moment Hunter battled the urge to act straight away. He wanted to be doing something, anything, to get them out of this situation. In the end, looking at Sara's and Brigid's tired expressions, at Donn slumped against the stone, he agreed. "Thank you, Guardian," he said as he led the others towards the church.

Thoughts chased themselves around Hunter's mind as he stretched out on an old wooden pew that groaned in complaint as he settled down and folded his arms. How were they going to find the Dagda? Were they really in the future? Where was his mum now? Should he find her, let her know that he wasn't dead?

He could hear the wind whistling around the church spire, but inside the old stone building it felt warm, and a numb fuzziness settled over him. Despite all his thoughts, despite his growing need for action, despite everything - his eyes closed, and sleep crept over him.

"Lord of Beasts, now is the best time. Come." The grinding voice of the Guardian snatched him from sleep, and like a struggling fish hooked on a line, pulled him back to wakefulness.

"What? Time for what?" Hunter forced open his gummy eyes and jumped at the sight of the monstrosity looming over him. He sighed, his heartbeat racing, as he recognised the gargoyle.

"Time to hunt." It turned and moved off towards one of his friends. Hunter sat up, rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles. A dim light filtered through the stained glass windows. To Hunter's sleep-befuddled mind it looked as though a rainbow had come into the church, broken into tiny pieces and now played around the statues of the saints that lined one wall.

"The sun is setting. I have provided some food. Soon you must go."

The gargoyle's voice made Hunter jump for a second time. Turning around he saw the others moving towards the doors and settling themselves on the ground. He stood, stretched and wandered over to them.

"G'day, mate." Donn's rasping voice echoed back from the vaulted ceiling. Sara gave him a dazzling smile before popping something into her mouth and chewing. Brigid patted the floor beside her, and as Hunter sat she asked, "Sleep well?"

"Yeah, didn't think I would though."

"Aye, I didn't think I would either." She pointed towards the food they all now sat around. "Eat."

Hunter looked down at the pile of raspberries and blackberries; there were also some dried looking apples and a bottle of water. Hunger swept over him, and he reached out and popped a berry into his mouth. The skin was a little sour, but the juices were sweet. Nothing beat wild berries - he began eating.

The food before the four teenagers didn't last long, but it did its job. Hunter leaned back on his elbows. "Thanks, Guardian. That was great."

"Aye, thank you. That really hit the spot."

Donn wiped a hand across his mouth. "Berry nice."

The others groaned and Sara delivered a slap to Donn's shoulder.

"It is good that you have finished," said the Guardian. "It is sunset. Now is the best time for you to go."

"What's the plan?" asked Donn.

"I will go forth and drive the faeries from about the church. You will then be able to leave through here."

The Guardian lumbered off into the growing darkness of the church. The four friends scrambled to their feet and followed after. The gargoyle led them into the sacristy. The light was so dim that Hunter could barely make out the others as they crowded into the small room. The Guardian hunched over and there was a grinding noise. As it stood again, Hunter could now see a square of darkness at its feet from which an earthy damp smell wafted up to him.

"A tunnel," said Sara. She jostled Hunter as she stepped forward to look.

"Indeed, Child of the Tempest. This is a priest-hole. A tunnel built at a time when those who ran this church were being persecuted. There is a small drop then a tunnel that leads back out under the church and comes out in the park. In times of need it kept the priests safe; it will do the same for you."

"So, what's the plan?" asked Donn, repeating his earlier question.

"Plan? You travel through the tunnel. By the time you reach its end I will be occupying the faery."

"All of them?" asked Brigid.

"They will flock to me, believing they have a chance to overcome me."

Brigid frowned. "Do they? Have a chance I mean?"

"No one can tell what the future will bring, Child of Fire."

"Someone should tell Emmeline that," said Donn.

They walked in single file through the tunnel, holding hands so they would not become separated. Donn led them, for although Hunter could see nothing in the pitch black, Donn seemed to be able to see in the darkest of places. Hunter walked slightly bent so that his head didn't bump the damp, earthy roof. Every now and then, what he hoped were plant roots trailed across his face making him jump and shiver. Once it felt like a spider crawled across his cheek - he fought the urge to begin slapping wildly at his face and pressed on.

After walking for about five minutes, the smell of the tunnel changed. The scent of fresh air replaced the damp, earthy smell of the tunnel. Their line stopped and after a moment, Donn spoke.

"We're at the end. Looks like it opens up into a cave." There was another moment in which Hunter could hear Donn shuffling about ahead. A bright patch appeared before them as Donn opened some kind of door. Even though it was now night outside, after travelling through the pitch darkness of the tunnel Hunter squinted against the light. They scrambled out of the tunnel, and Hunter realised that they had emerged from the base of an old statue of the first Lord of Feygate Hall.

"What's that?" Sara pointed back towards the church. Lights flashed, different colours burning bright into the black night sky. A low rumble sounded in the distance.

"It must be the Guardian," said Brigid. "I hope he's all right."

"He's a piece of rock," said Donn. "What could happen to him?"

"C'mon," said Hunter. "Let's get moving." He led the others towards the looming Feygate Hill.

The Guardian's diversion must've worked as they only saw one group of faeries, a small group of pixies that were rushing towards the church, before they got to the hill. They decided to stay clear of the main entrance to the Hall's grounds, and so scrambled over the dry-stone bounday wall and started up the hill.

They moved carefully, trying to keep to cover, stopping every now and then to check for faeries. They were about halfway up the hill when Hunter heard a group of faeries coming directly towards them.

"Hide," he whispered.

They took advantage of the unkept state of the grounds and scrambled behind some stunted bushes that themselves were shielded by long grass, as half a dozen faeries marched into view. All the faeries in the group were the size of a small man. They appeared unkempt - their brown skin appeared dirty, their hair was in knots, their clothes had rips and tears, so many that some of the faeries wore more holes than clothing. They walked in a tight bunch, pushing, shoving and cursing at each other. All accept one that trailed the bunch. Every so often, one of the others would fall back and cuff it round its pointed ears, or trip it up, or yell something in its face.

Hunter frowned as he looked at it. This faery had a shock of grey hair that stood up on end as if the faery had stuck its finger in an electrical socket. It wore a stained leather apron, the front of which had ripped away so that it fluttered like a flag revealing a stained, once white but now yellowing, baggy shirt. Mud coated its dark skin-tight trousers, and the seam on the left leg had started to give way. As it walked, this faery would pucker its full lips and blow raspberries, or hum a small off-key tune.

"That's Whistler," whispered Hunter.

"Don't be stupid," replied Sara, pushing up beside Hunter so she could see better. "They're not even the same type... " Her voice trailed away.

Hunter looked over at Brigid. The red-haired girl's expression had gone blank as she worked out what type of faery they were watching.

She shook her head slightly and then looked at the others, crawling close so that they could all hear her whisper.

"It could be Whistler, right enough. Those faeries are Boggarts. Boggarts are Brownies which have been angered in some way."

"Angered?" said Sara.

"Aye. Leaving them clothes as gifts angers them. So does not leaving them some house work to do in a home they choose to live in. They turn into Boggarts and instead of helping, well... "

"Whistler would know where the Dagda was," said Donn.

"That's what I was thinking," said Hunter.

"What are we going to do?" asked Sara.

Hunter looked at the group of faeries now a bit further downhill from them. "We're going to rescue Whistler."

* * * *

## Chapter Nine

## Rescuing Whistler

With the grace and stealth of a stalking cat, Hunter approached the group of Boggarts. They had stopped a short distance down the hill, where the gentle slope flattened out forming a shelf in the hillside. The faeries now sat sprawled around the area, laughing loudly, and yelling insults at each other, but mainly at Whistler.

They treated the Dagda's servant as a slave. It had been Whistler who had set the small fire that now leapt and danced in the middle of the chaotic group, throwing its smoke towards the sky in mockery of the few greyish-white clouds that scudded across the moon's face. It had been Whistler who broke out the food - something wrapped in green leaves that cracked loudly as the Boggarts bit into them - and handed out the drink. Even at this distance, Hunter could smell the sweet scent of blackberries laced with the acidic scent of alcohol.

Hunter stopped, hunkered behind a small stand of broom and waited for the chance their plan hinged on. It didn't take long. One of the Boggarts raised its thin, dirt-encrusted hand and gestured for Whistler.

"Oi, you worthless maggot! Get over here!"

Whistler scuttled over, his head ducked. Hunter could hear him muttering under his breath.

"What d'you say, Dagda's boy?" The Boggart sneered as it spoke. The insult lacing its words won a chorus of sniggers from the others.

"Nothing. Whistler said nothing."

The slap echoed about the hillside, and sent Whistler tumbling. Hunter winced as he watched. "That's 'nothing master'. And haven't we told you a hundred times, ya called Grunter now. Ain't that right, slave?"

Whistler sat up rubbing the side of his face. "Yes... master. Whis... Grunter forgot, that's all."

The Boggart before Whistler yawned displaying a set of small but very sharp teeth. "Don't forget it again. Now, go get us water."

Hunter could see Whistler's eyes flick to the already full clay bottles the others drank from. "But... " said Whistler.

The Boggart just stared. Whistler scuttled back a little way before standing. "I have an idea. I'll go get some water."

The group of Boggarts laughed again as Whistler grabbed a couple of leather bags with stoppers protruding from them, slung them across his shoulder and began heading for the small creek that splashed down the hillside about ten metres from where they stood.

This was it - there was now clear space between Whistler and the other faeries. Trusting that his friends were ready, Hunter sped from his hiding place. The hillside blurred about him as he matched acceleration and speed with the cheetah in his mind. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fire flare up and create a raging wall of flame between him and the yelling Boggarts. That was Brigid playing her part. He sensed more than felt the wind that Sara sent howling into the confusion. Hunter could imagine the small Boggarts being blown off their feet and getting tangled up with each other.

Then he was on Whistler. Hunter swept the small faery into his arms and without losing speed turned and sped back towards where his three friends waited.

That's where the plan went wrong. Hunter felt a burning, searing pain erupt in his right hand, which immediately went numb. Try as he might, he could not keep his grip on Whistler, he dropped the small faery at his feet. At the speed he was going, Hunter didn't stand a chance of stopping. He felt his feet catch on the squirming body of the falling Boggart and with a cry he tripped.

His breath whooshed out of him as he hit the ground hard. A small weight landed on his back and hands began to tighten about his throat. Hunter craned his neck back far enough to see Whistler perched just below his shoulders. Blood dribbled from either side of the faery's mouth, which was set in a grimace of effort as he pushed Hunter hard between the shoulder blades, and Hunter found his head pushed into the grass.

"Silly mortal." Whistler's voice sounded right beside Hunter's ear. Rolling his eyes back Hunter could just make out the brown, wrinkled face of the faery, its lips pulled back, teeth bared about to sink its fangs into his neck.

Hunter bucked, surging like a bull trying to dislodge a rider at a rodeo. Whistler rolled off landing in a heap to one side. Hunter surged to his feet, facing the faery.

"Why are you attacking Grunter, mortal? Now the others will be wanting their fun." Giggling, Whistler pointed to his left, but his eyes widened and his hand poised only halfway to its target - a limp finger now pointing towards the ground.

Hunter risked a glance. The wall of fire still raged, blocking the other Boggarts from reaching him. A hazy heat shimmer rippled from the inferno. As he watched, one faery tried to scuttle around the wall's side, but a gust of wind picked up the flailing Boggart and deposited it back behind the burning barrier.

"Whistler, it's me. Hunter."

The Boggart frowned and cocked its head to one side. "Why are you calling me Whistler?"

"It's your name."

Still frowning Whistler shook his head. "I'm Grunter or Slave." Despite his words, his frown seemed to deepen.

"No. You're Whistler, and we need your help to find the Dagda."

To Hunter's surprise, Whistler repeated "The Dagda" in a quivering voice before bursting into tears.

Hunter took his chance and leaping forward like a striking snake, he once more picked Whistler up. This time he made sure that he pinned the faery's arms to its side and that his hold was low enough down so that the faery couldn't employ its sharp teeth again. Ignoring Whistler's cries, Hunter ran over to the others.

Brigid's eyes were closed, her hands held up before her, palms facing the burning wall she had created. Sara stood nearby, taking pot shots at any Boggart that tried to escape. Hunter could feel no wind, not even a breeze as she worked, nonetheless he could tell when she used her power. She would raise an elegant, long finger and point it in the direction of an escaping faery. Then her long blonde hair would whip about her as a gust of wind sped away in the direction she pointed.

Donn pushed himself away from the tree against which he had been leaning. "You OK?"

Hunter nodded, tightening his grip a little on the now squirming Whistler. "He bit me."

"I saw. Change of plan. They'll follow after us, but I think I can dissuade them." Donn pulled his knife from his pocket and with a click, the blade extended. Whistler stopped struggling and if anything tried to bury himself further into Hunter's arms. "Keep the blood metal away. Keep it away!"

"We'll wait for you up here a little way then," said Hunter.

Donn nodded and took a step past Hunter.

"Brigid, Sara, you can stop now. Donn's taking it from here." Hunter began leading them across the hillside.

"What's he going to do?" asked Sara.

"Threaten them, I think," said Brigid, gesturing back over her shoulder.

Hunter looked back. It seemed like a pool of shadow, darker than the night around it, had formed about Donn's feet. As Hunter watched, the shadow moved, slithering up Donn's body. The already tall teenager seemed to grow taller and thinner. The shadow clung to him until it looked like a flowing robe. It flowed up until it appeared that a large cowl covered Donn's head, and instead of a knife, it looked as if Donn now wielded a long, black scythe.

Hunter walked on a little further before he heard Donn's voice. It sounded deeper than usual and had a hollow, emotionless quality.

"I claim the one you call Grunter. Go, unless you want to join him." There was a pause then Donn spoke again. "I don't care, tell your master. I will deal with him if I have to."

Hunter turned and looked again. The Boggarts were backing away from the imposing sight before them. Hunter had to admit he wouldn't like to stand before Donn when he looked as he did now. His friend's resemblance to Ankou, the faery equivalent of Death, coupled with the presence of the iron knife, seemed to be having the desired effect. Donn took a step forward, and in a squealing mass, the Boggarts spun around and fled.

Donn turned and made his way up the hill. As he caught up with Hunter and the others, the shadow flowed from him like melting wax, leaving him looking his usual tall, pale self. Whistler squirmed in Hunter's arms and whimpered.

"Please don't give me to him. I don't want to go with Death." Whistler squirmed so much that his face was now buried in the crook of Hunter's arm. Even muffled, the faery's voice was much higher pitched than usual.

Aware of the Boggart's sharp teeth, Hunter put Whistler down. The faery crumpled to the ground, crying.

"Whistler," Brigid crouched down by the faery, and placed a hand on his quivering shoulder. "It's not Death, it's only Donn. We aren't going to let anything happen to you now."

A serious attack of pins and needles prickled through Hunter's hand. He looked at it, and even in the darkness he could make out blood flowing from the wound and dripping to the grass. Brigid was now whispering to the distraught faery. Sara was standing on the other side of the two and as Wistler's sobs became louder, Sara rolled her eyes and looked at Hunter.

"Now what? We can't stay out here." She looked at Hunter's hand and her eyes widened. "You're bleeding."

As Brigid's head snapped up Hunter tried to hide his hand behind his back. "It's nothing. Sara's right, we need to work out what we're going to do now that we've got him."

Sara began to move towards him, but Brigid sprang to her feet and stepped between them, reaching for his hand. "Nothing is it, then? If that's the case then it won't take long for me to be fixing it up now, will it?"

Hunter thought about refusing to give Brigid his hand when she held out her own, but she never gave him the chance.

"C'mon then, let's take a look." Brigid reached behind Hunter, grabbed his wrist and gently pulled his hand out to where she could see.

She gave a sharp intake of breath. "That looks sore, right enough."

"It's not too bad. It just feels like pins and needles," said Hunter.

For a moment, Brigid's eyes seem to lose focus, and then she was looking at him again. "It'll hurt soon enough. Boggarts and Brownies alike both have a poison that paralyses the area around the wound. OK, Donn, I'll be needing that knife of yours."

As Donn stepped over to them, he cast a look at the cowering faery. "What are we going to do with him?"

With a snick, which resulted in even louder whimpers from Whistler, Donn extended the blade and passed the knife to Brigid.

"Thanks." Brigid cut a strip from the bottom of her skirt. "As far as I can tell if you mistreat a Brownie then they turn into one of these Boggarts. What we need to do, is give him something he likes, something that will remind him of who he was... "

"What do you think would... Ouch!" Tears sprang to the corner of Hunter's eyes as pain lanced up his arm.

Brigid made a shushing noise and continued to bandage his hand.

"Beer," said Sara. She had been standing with her arms crossed staring at Brigid but now moved over to stand by Donn.

"I wouldn't mind one," said Donn.

Sara slapped him on the arm. "No, I mean him," she pointed a finger at Whistler.

"Aye, Whistler does like a drink." Hunter could feel the moist warmth of Brigid's breath as she used her teeth to split the makeshift bandage in two. She then tied the two ends together securing the dressing. "That will do for the moment."

"Thanks, Brigid." Hunter tried to ignore the growing pain in his hand. "Where can we get the beer from? I would say that the pub in town might be difficult to get to."

"Not to mention the faeries have probably drunk it dry. If Whistler was anything to go by," said Sara.

"Old Man Price," said Donn, accepting his knife back from Brigid.

"Were you serious about that? I thought you were pulling our legs."

Donn shook his head. "Nope, I was telling the truth. And I know where he kept his stocks."

Hunter clenched and unclenched his bound hand as he looked at the others. "OK, so we go get some beer. Try to get Whistler back, and then get him to take us to the Dagda. Agreed."

The two girls nodded.

Old Man Price lived in an old, run-down, two-storey house just out of town. Lucky for them they could get there by cutting back through the grounds of Feygate Hall, meaning they didn't have to go back through the village.

Whistler had followed on meekly with them, head down mumbling to himself. Hunter was sure that this was due to Donn's presence as he walked along beside the Boggart.

Before they clambered over the wall into the patch of land the house was on, Hunter allowed his senses to flow out into the surrounding bush and scrub. He could detect the flighty presence of birds, the alien, unreadable presence of insects, cautious mice and even a couple of squirrels. There were too many animals around for anything dangerous to be in the area, and none of them appeared overly worried by anything. Deciding the coast was clear Hunter signalled the group onwards.

Hunter almost missed the house. It was so coated with ivy and vines that it just seemed to merge with the surrounding vegetation.

"This way." Donn led the group around the side of the house. Thorns from a rambling blackberry bush caught in Hunter's trousers as he waded through the knee-high grass. He wrenched his leg free earning a stinging scratch from the bush.

They stopped before a pair of double doors set at about 45 degrees to the house itself.

"This is where he kept his stock. Or... at least, that's what I heard," said Donn.

A metal latch held the doors closed, a large rusted padlock making the whole setup secure.

"How do we get in there?" asked Sara.

As one, they turned and looked at Donn.

"You all think I'm some kind of crook, don't you. 'Donn will be able to pick the lock.' " He shoved his hands in his pockets and glared at them.

"Well, can you?" Sara asked.

The glare turned in a flash to a cheeky smile. "Of course I can. That's not the point though, is it? You all thought I could, without asking."

Sara laid a hand on Donn's arm and stared up at him with her eyes wide. "We're asking now." Her voice dripped honey, though her impish grin ruined the whole effect.

"OK, OK. I haven't got any tools though. I need a pin of some sort... like a hairpin."

This time everyone turned and looked at Sara.

"Hey!" She crossed her arms and pouted beautifully.

Donn bent down to examine the lock. "The wood looks rotten. We could probably jimmy it if we had... "

"Is there beer in there?" Whistler's voice interrupted Donn. The faery was standing close to the doors sniffing loudly.

"Aye, at least we hope so." Brigid had hardly spoken before the small faery stepped forward and put his hand around the lock. There was a click and when he took his hand away, the now open padlock was in it.

"Cool trick," said Donn behind Whistler, causing the faery to cringe. "You'll have to teach me that."

Donn stepped past the faery, worked the latch open and lifted one of the doors. With a loud thump, it thudded into the side of the house, revealing warped stairs that disappeared into pitch darkness.

Hunter, knowing his friend could see in darkness as if in daylight, looked over at Donn. "You want to go in a check around, see if there is some kind of light for the rest of us?"

Donn shrugged and strode into the cellar; surprisingly Whistler scuttled in after him. After a moment, Donn seemed to float up from the darkness.

"Power's out." He held up an old, battered lamp. "I found this though."

Brigid reached forward and took the lamp. She held it up before her and closed her eyes. A small flame flickered to life on the wick, guttered and then strengthened. Grinning at the others Brigid used the wheel on the lamp's side to lengthen the wick a little, and then she led them down the stairs.

It was cool in the cellar. Hunter rubbed at the goosebumps that had appeared on his arms. He could feel a tickling at the back of his nose and a grittiness in his eyes as the dust they disturbed floated about them like a cloud of midges.

There wasn't much in the cellar: an old table at the foot of the stairs, a spade, fork and a hoe leaning up against the wall just beyond and an old battered pair of work boots. The opposite wall was stacked with crates that Whistler was leaping around, rubbing his hands together.

Sara was trying to wipe a layer of dust from her face. "You guys always bring me to the nicest places."

Donn walked over to the crates, reached down and pulled a dark brown bottle out of one. He then looked around at Brigid, raising his eyebrows in question.

"Aye, give him the bottle. It should do the trick."

Donn used his knife to pop the lid off and handed the bottle to Whistler. The faery took it in both hands and took a long sniff before sitting on the floor with a contented sigh. In his hands, the bottle looked huge but he managed to raise it and take a swig.

The four friends clustered around as Whistler drank.

"Nothing's happening," said Sara.

"Maybe we need to do something else to remind him," said Hunter.

"What about that song he was singing when we were in the tavern in Faeryland?" asked Sara.'... ®

"That might do it," said Brigid. "Now, how did it go?"

Her gaze went blank for a moment, then she opened her eyes and smiled. She began singing. Her voice was not strong, but she could hold a tune, which was more than Hunter could say for himself.

"Hey derry, derry, derry, oh,

"The cow its whisky guzzled

"She staggered left, then staggered right,

"Both drunk and rather puzzled

"Singing, hey deery, deery, deery, oh."

Whistler looked at Brigid as she sang. Slowly, a smile appeared on the faery's face, and then he joined in, singing loudly.

And as he sang he began to change.

* * * *

## Chapter Ten

## Whistler's Tale

Whistler's hair seemed to collapse so that it hung loosely around his shoulders. His posture changed, becoming less stooped and more upright, his hands seemed less gnarled, and what had been claws now resembled fingernails again. It was sudden, almost between blinks, and subtle - Hunter couldn't pick all the changes, but despite Whistler's dirty and dishevelled clothes, he seemed less threatening and more the comic faery that Hunter remembered.

Whistler lowered his bottle and looked around at the four of them. A huge smile crossed his face and he began jumping and dancing on the spot."Hunter, Brigid, Sara, and, and... yes, there he is... and Donn. You're here! You're here just like the Dagda said... "

At the sound of the Faery Lord's name Whistler's face froze. His eyes turned all glassy and tears began to trickle down his wrinkled cheeks, his little body began to shake, and he began sobbing loudly.

Brigid rushed over to the crying Brownie, went down on her knees and placed her arm around his shaking shoulders. "Hey now, stop crying Whistler. You're right, we are here. Now, stop your crying and tell us what's wrong."

In a quivering voice, interrupted by loud sobs, Whistler answered, "It's the Dagda, the poor, poor, Dagda. Tethra tricked him and now the Dagda's losing."

"Losing the war?" asked Hunter.

Whistler dissolved into loud sobbing again. Hunter could feel his face redden as Brigid glared at him. He shuffled over to where Donn and Sara were standing, his hands in his pockets wishing he hadn't spoken.

"Look Whistler, we'll help if we can. We'll... " said Brigid.

"You'll help the Dagda?" For some reason Whistler looked up at Hunter.

"Er... " Hunter noticed Brigid glaring again. "Yeah... we'll help if we can, Whistler."

Brigid's glare turned to a smile, and a warm feeling of pleasure seemed to wash over Hunter.

"Aye, o'course we will," she said. "But first, you need to tell us what happened, and where we can find him. Can you do that, Whistler?"

The faery scrubbed his nose with a sleeve, sniffing loudly. "I can try."

The others moved a little closer so that they could all hear. "It all started just before that stuff with the Barghest... You see, the Dagda, he lost Uaithne."

"What is this Oooo '... ¶?" asked Donn, stumbling over the pronunciation of the word.

"It's pronounced oo-ihnee," said Brigid.

"Sounds like a sneeze." Donn crossed his arms and slumped against a wall.

Hunter smiled, but Brigid ignored the remark. "It's a harp. It has power over the seasons, joy, sorrow, and... " Her voice trailed away and she stared at Hunter.

Hunter frowned. "And what?"

"Dreams," replied Brigid, her voice so quiet that it was almost a whisper.

It felt to Hunter as though someone had emptied a bucket of ice over his head. The Harpist had haunted his dreams during the hunt for the athame. The coincidence seemed too great - the Dagda's harp disappearing around the same time the dreams of the Harpist started...

"What happened when the harp went missing?" Sara had moved over to Whistler and was bending over him, her blonde hair now a curtain about her face.

"That is when Tethra... Whistler shivered and only continued when Brigid patted him on the shoulder. Hunter tried to shake off the feeling of dread that seemed to have smothered him like a shroud and listened to the faery's reply. "Well, when them Dark Court faeries got more powerful like. Nothing the master tried stopped them. Then the ley lines were init... inish... started."

"Ley lines?" Sara interrupted.

"Lines of power that are supposed to run between standing stones," said Brigid. "They're supposed to be powerful mystical places."

"Aye," said Whistler. "Only, it were the Dark Court that got all the power. We got none. With the power they opened all the gates, linked our two worlds and began enslaving mortals...

"They've enslaved humans?" Images of his mother slaving away in some dark pit tormented Hunter's mind.

"The lucky ones." Tears were running down Whistler's cheeks. "There are some places that still hold out. But tec... tec... your machines, e-lick-tra-city, and stuff, well they don't work no longer. Not with the amount of power travelling the ley lines.

"We did what we could, which wasn't much. We tried to hold on to what was ours, but they just kept getting stronger and stronger. Since then, we been running, trying to keep ahead of Tethra and the Wild Hunt."

Whistler blew his nose loudly on his sleeve and then scrubbed a hand across his eyes.

"There's that Wild Hunt again," said Donn. "What is it? Is it wild as in 'whoa, what a wild hunt that was', or are they all just very angry?"

The faery lowered his hand and stared at Donn. Whistler's eyes were so wide that he resembled a Japanese cartoon character.

"You should not joke about the Wild Hunt. Not even you, Ankou's kin." Whistler's voice dropped to a whisper. "They're bad, evil faeries, even for the Dark Court."

"Oooooo," Donn waggled his fingers in a mock spooky manner in Whistler's direction.

Hunter jumped as Sara's and Brigid's voices combined in one shout. "Donn!"

Hunter didn't like the sound of this Wild Hunt. Both the Dryad and Whistler seemed to be terrified of it. "What exactly is the Wild Hunt, Whistler?" he asked.

For a moment, Hunter didn't think that the faery would answer, but then in a quiet voice that made them all lean forward to hear, he began speaking.

"The Wild Hunt are Tethra's kin, the Formorians. He sends them out hunting for the Dagda wherever the Dark Court goes. Sometimes they just hunt for fun, for mortals. They ride Night Mares as they hunt...

"Nightmares? You mean they hunt through your dreams?" Sara wrinkled her brow as she cocked her head to one side.

After a moment's pause, Brigid shook her head. "No. A Night Mare is a faery horse. It feeds on flesh and... aye, well, let's just say they're not nice."

"And what does this Hunt do with any mortals they catch?"

Whistler shivered. "The lucky ones get taken to be Dark Court slaves."

"The lucky ones?" said Donn. "Ah, hang on. The unlucky ones, that's got something to do with those flesh-eating horses, hasn't it?"

Hunter thought it sounded like a good idea to stay clear of this Wild Hunt. Which meant they needed to find the Dagda before the Hunt did.

"Whistler," he said, "do you know where the Dagda is?"

At the sound of his master's name, Whistler's eyes filled with tears again. Sniffing loudly he shook his head. "Not exactly. Although I knows where he was intending to go."

"Where?" asked Brigid, laying her hand gently on the faery's small shoulder.

"There is a faery glade we call the Regent's Hall. It is not widely known outside the Dagda's circle, but is a place of power, where he might be able to hide for a time."

"Did you tell those Boggarts that?" asked Sara.

"No. They asked the wrong questions. I know where the Dagda was planning to go. I don't know where he is now. As I didn't give them the answer they was after, they were taking me back to Te... Teth... Tethra...

Whistler buried his head in his hands.

"So, all we have to do," said Sara, "is find this Regent's Hall before the Dark Court does."

Hunter was ignoring the chatter, he was staring at Whistler listening hard. Whistler was shaking so badly that Hunter, with his heightened hearing, could make out the faery's teeth chattering. It sounded rhythmic and seemed to deepen as he listened. Hunter frowned, and an image of a rabbit appeared in his mind's eye. His already acute hearing sharpened further.

The sound of horses' hooves was now unmistakable. Interlaced with this was a shrieking and howling that put Hunter's teeth on edge.

"Everyone, quiet!" Hunter held up a hand, his face a mask of concentration as he listened hard.

"What is it, Hunter?" Brigid whispered into the sudden silence.

"Horses... and something... a screeching, howling noise. Kind of like a cross between a screech owl, and a wolf."

"Night Mares!" squeaked Whistler.

"It's the Wild Hunt," whispered Brigid.

* * * *

## Chapter Eleven

## The Mouse Hole

Like a cat, Hunter sprang up the stairs and drew the doors closed, the loud bang of them slamming into place echoed around the confines of the cellar. It appeared that Old Man Price didn't like to be interrupted when he did whatever he did in the cellar; there were bolts on the inside of the doors. They were a little rusted but, grunting with the effort, Hunter managed to slam them closed.

He could hear the sounds of hooves pounding on the ground above, and a horn sounded close by. Although muffled by the doors of the cellar, the note still made the hairs on Hunter's arms stand on end. It sounded more like a beast howling in the night than a musical instrument and, unbidden, his mind went back to the Barghest. Turning, Hunter moved down the stairs.

"Brigid put out the lantern. They might be able to see that from outside."

Brigid waited until Hunter had got off the stairs, and then the light disappeared and Hunter found himself plunged into darkness. A hand grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled at him.

"This way, mate." Donn's voice rasped into his ear, and Hunter found himself pulled to where the others stood. His bandaged hand banged into someone causing Hunter to wince in pain. He felt Donn's hand leave his arm and sensed, more than saw, his tall friend head back towards the stairs.

This was stupid. There should be enough light for a cat to see down here, and that's all Hunter needed. After a moment's concentration his vision changed so that he could see as if in a dim light. He stood between Brigid and Sara, with Whistler clinging to Brigid's usually bright skirt, which to Hunter's eyes now appeared dull, almost gray, in colour. Donn was standing at the bottom of the stairs, knife in hand, staring up at the door.

Sara reached out a groping hand that latched on to Hunter's shirt. She leant over, her long blonde hair tickling his face, and whispered in his general direction. "If they can do what Whistler did to that lock then the bolt won't stop them."

Brigid heard the whisper. "Aye, and we don't have anywhere to run from here." She shuffled closer to Hunter until she was standing so close that Hunter could feel her pushed up against him. To his surprise, she seemed to be trembling. Without thinking, he slipped his arm around her shoulder.

"We'll think of something... " With a shock Hunter realised what he had done and was about to draw his arm back when Brigid snaked hers around his waist. His mind seemed to shut down, he couldn't think of anything but Brigid standing close to him. Desperately he said the first thing that came to mind. "Maybe Whistler can...

"That's it!" Brigid's whisper hissed into the darkness. "Whistler is a Brownie. They can move around houses unseen. That's grand, Hunter." Her arm squeezed him in a hug, and then she was gone, kneeling down by Whistler and whispering something into his ear. Hunter's side felt cold where she had been standing.

Sara grabbed his hand and pulled at him, pain lanced through his wounded palm, and he gave a sharp intake of breath. "Oh, Hunter, sorry." She let go of his hand again, moving her hand up his arm. "What's happening? What's Brigid doing, and where's Donn?"

Hunter looked over at Donn. Donn was looking back, one finger held up before his mouth. Hunter leant over and whispered into Sara's ear. "Brigid thinks Whistler might be able to help. Donn is over by the stair...

There was a yell outside and the sound of hooves pounding to a stop in the yard above them. A scream rent the air, sounding like a cross between a horse's whinny and a steam whistle. Sara jumped, and Brigid surged to her feet. Hunter found himself uncomfortably sandwiched between the two girls.

"Hunter, you need to find a mouse hole. That's how Whistler moves around houses. If you can be finding one, he can take us with him," whispered Brigid, her eyes never leaving the doors.

Hunter closed his eyes and let his mind drift, seeking the thoughts of the animals that lived in the house. He looked for the food-oriented thoughts of a mouse. If they were lucky... yes, there!

With little encouragement from Hunter, the mouse gladly showed him the warren of tunnels and holes it and its family had created over the past generations. Pride flooded through it as it showed its family's handiwork to the Lord of Beasts.

"There's a hole over in that corner," Hunter pointed.

"What corner?" asked Sara. "We can't see a thing, remember?"

Hunter grabbed Sara and Brigid's hands and led them to the corner. "Donn," he whispered over his shoulder, "we might have a way out of this."

Donn gave one look up the stairs and ran to where they were all clustered. As he made it to them, the doors rattled as someone tried them from the outside.

"I've found it," whispered Whistler loudly in answer to Brigid's prompting. Thankfully, at that exact moment the doors rattled again hiding his voice from any who might have been listening from above.

"Come. Stand here and hold hands."

Whistler offered a small brown hand to Donn who engulfed it in one of his own and then swept up Sara's hand with his free one. With Brigid holding Whistler's other hand, they formed a circle facing inwards, towards each other. Hunter heard a screeching from the door and turned his head. He could just see the bolts sliding open as Whistler spoke.

"Whatever happens, don't be letting go." Whistler began to shrink, and as he shrank, he pulled the others with him. At first Donn and Brigid's arms were pulled down; it happened quickly and looked like they would fall. Instead, as their bodies bent past the point of balance, they began to shrink, first one side then the other.

Hunter could hear the doors swinging open as he felt the tug on his arm from Brigid. It felt like he had just grabbed falling weight that was far too heavy to hold in one hand. It pulled him towards the floor, but just as his balance began to tip Hunter felt the pull from Sara's hand, now seemingly above him. He bit back a cry as pain swept up his arm from the bite on his hand.

The pressure on his hand and outstretched arm lessened and he opened his eyes. They were still standing there, hands held, facing each other. There were two differences: they were all now the exactly the same height, including Whistler, and the cellar seemed to be immense. From Hunter's perspective, it was easily the size of four football fields placed in a square.

A glowing radiance flooded the chamber as the doors above slammed open. The noise was like a shock wave.

"Don't let go, unless you want to be big again," Whistler said and began leading them towards a gaping mouse hole now plainly visible in the wall. Voices, foghorn loud, sounded from the stairs, causing all of them to wince. Uttering a little squeal, Whistler scampered towards the cavernous mouse hole, towing the others along after him in a confused knot.

There was even less light inside the wall and Hunter had difficulty seeing anything, despite his 'cat vision'.

"Ouch! Who's standing on my foot?" Sara snapped.

"Sorry," Hunter whispered. "I can't see a thing. Where are we?"

"Lucky you can't see it, mate," Donn's voice rasped from the darkness. "It's a dump."

"Hang on, I think I can... Brigid's voice trailed off, there was a moment's silence, and then a fire burst to life, floating in the middle of their circle.

Hunter closed his eyes and looked away from the flames - as the light had burst into existence before him, it had been like looking into the sun. Afterimages of the fire seemed burnt into his vision.

"C'mon. It's not safe here," Whistler piped up, dragging the group off, away from the hole. Hunter opened his eyes a crack and stared through his eyelashes, trying to get used to the light.

"Next time," Sara said, "some warning you're going to do that would be nice, Brigid."

Brigid ignored the whiplash quality to her friend's voice. Hunter saw her smiling as he opened his eyes further.

"Aye, I guess I should have been letting you know what I was planning."

Although Hunter knew they were inside a wall, it was hard to guess that from the perspective of their new size. All four of them could have walked side by side and still not have reached the edges with outstretched arms. To Hunter it felt as if they were in a cave, there was no breath of air, although looking up he could see spider webs as thick as rope and coated in dust, swaying in a breeze. He knew the walls were wooden but again, because of their size, it looked very odd. Hunter could easily have dug his fingers up to the first knuckle in the grain. There were cracks in some of the boards that he could have pushed his whole hand into.

As he looked up, it felt to him that the walls were beginning to close in on them. He lowered his head and tried not to think about it as Whistler led them up a diagonal beam that seemed to climb towards the ground floor. Although an easy climb it was steep, and they were all soon puffing.

To make matters worse, someone or something was moving on the floors overhead. Not only did it sound like a herd of elephants was moving through the house above, but a fine rain of dust also fell upon them causing Hunter and his friends to cough and sneeze as they travelled.

In an effort to stop thinking about his surrounds, Hunter called out to Whistler. "Whistler, how did you shrink us?"

Living up to his name, the faery had been whistling a little ditty; he stopped so he could answer Hunter's questions. "It's part of what a Brownie can do. I can only do it in a house, but I can also shrink any of faery blood who are with me. Like you lot."

"Could we change ourselves in some way? With our own powers, I mean," Sara asked.

"Dunno. Expect so. Most faeries have more than one form. Haven't you tried yet?"

"What could I change into?" asked Sara, her eyes sparkling in the flickering flame light.

Whistler shook his head. "Only you can know that. It'll be something to do with your powers though."

"What, so I could say change into... a gust of wind?"

"I can get wind, is that the same?" asked Donn. Sara moved her hand as if to remove it from Donn's in order to deliver a slap.

"Sara, don't let go of his hand!" Hunter called. "I don't fancy growing to my full height in here."

"Likewise," said Donn. "Look, I know you want to hit me. Can I just say ouch and we'll leave it at that."

"Oh, I can do better than that." Sara smiled one of her stunning smiles and kicked Donn firmly on an ankle.

"Ouch!"

"Now let's leave it at that."

They reached the ground floor and began heading for a hole in the wall some way before them through which daylight shone like a spotlight. As he shuffled along with the others, Hunter wondered if he could alter his form, and if he could, into what? He remembered the tall, antler-headed figure of the Hunter that the Dagda had showed him when revealing their powers. Maybe he could take that form, although he wasn't sure why he'd want to. Now, changing into another animal... that could be of use.

Hunter was still thinking about this when they stopped before the opening. Brigid let her fire die as they looked out into what looked like a kitchen - although it was hard to be sure, as everything looked so huge and was being viewed from floor level.

The sound of movement in the house had stopped a short time before they reached the second hole. They stood, hands still linked, listening hard.

"Are they still here?" asked Brigid.

Hunter concentrated a moment; an image of a mouse, its ears twitching, came to mind. He could hear a bug scuttling across the floor nearby, plants scratching the side of the house, his friends breathing... but he could not hear any hooves, screeching, footsteps - nothing that would show the Wild Hunt were still there.

"I think they've gone," said Hunter. "Let's go out and I'll take a look."

They all stepped out of the hole and released hands. It felt to Hunter as though someone had grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled. Everything blurred around him for a moment, and then he was back to his own size.

"I'll go," said Donn, and before Hunter could move his tall friend had crossed the kitchen and slipped out a door. Hunter shivered, even with his heightened hearing he couldn't hear Donn move.

Even though Donn must only have been gone for moments, it seemed like an eternity to Hunter as he waited in silence with the others. He had been listening for any sign of trouble and jumped when Donn strode back into the room without any warning.

"They've gone."

They all shared a smile.

"Now what?" asked Brigid.

"Now," said Hunter, "we find Regent's Hall and the Dagda."

* * * *

## Chapter Twelve

## Prey

In order to allow the Wild Hunt as much time to get as far away as possible, they decided to stop and rest up. They shared out the berries left over from the meal that the Guardian had gathered for them and then sat around the ground floor room as Whistler did his best to give instructions on how to find the Regent's Hall. The faery seemed to have no concept of distance so the instructions seemed very cryptic to Hunter.

"OK, if you can't tell us how far to go, is there a landmark we should walk towards?" asked Brigid. Hunter had lost track of how many times they had asked this question, or ones like it.

"Landmark?" Whistler opened his eyes wider as he stared at Brigid, his head slightly cocked to one side.

"Oh, come on," said Sara. She surged to her feet and stalked away from the group, before spinning around to face them, her hair fanning about her. "A landmark! Like a hill, or... she waved a hand, "... something. You know big things you can see easily that don't change position."

"Hills change position." Whistler shook his head. "No wonder you mortals get lost so easily."

"Look," said Hunter sitting down on a windowsill. "Let's go over what you've said so far. You say we walk towards the dawn sun until... He looked at the faery.

"Until you reach a gate."

"Any gate?" Donn asked from where he had sprawled upon the floor. "The bloody garden gate is just out there."

"A g-a-t-e." Whistler spoke slowly, pronouncing each letter with care.

"He means a faery gate." Brigid clapped her hands together, and a broad smile appeared. "You mean a faery gate, don't you, Whistler? Like a faery ring, or standing stone, or a burrow?"

Whistler smiled. "Yes! Then all you need to be doing is circle it three times and speak the name of the place you be wishing to go. Go through the gate and you'll be popping out near the hall. Walk to the forest edge and keep going. Take all the left turns on the path and you'll be there."

"How many turns?" asked Sara.

Whistler shrugged. "Lots."

Hunter looked out the window. There was a band of faint light appearing there as the sun began its battle to take back the sky from the moon and stars. "We got our directions in the end, and with good timing," he said. "Here comes the sun. Time to leave."

It was a strange walk. They travelled beside the road that led out of Feygate, doing their best to stay hidden from any would-be watchers. Though a small town, there was usually always traffic on this road to Feygate - but now it was empty. The road appeared to be a black scar across the natural landscape. One that nature was battling to reclaim. Here and there, plants had broken through cracks in the road top, or bushes had spilled over the edges of the kerbs.

The sounds of nature had replaced those of man. Insects trilled and scraped, their noises falling silent close by as the small group walked past, only to pick up again as soon as they had travelled on a little way. Over all of this, the song of the birds trilled and cascaded.

After they had been walking for an hour, the road curved off to their right, and to keep heading towards the sun they had to clamber over a fence and began walking up the side of a small hill. The unkempt grass in the field was knee-high, and the scent of honeysuckle wafted on the gentle breeze. As they reached the hilltop and looked below to the shallow valley in which a small creek ran, its bank obscured here and there by deep copses of trees, Whistler pointed to a large circle of brown fungi just below the ridge.

"There. It'll get us where we be wanting to go."

At the same time a bellow sounded from the valley floor, faint but carrying clearly in the morning air.

"Help! Someone help!"

A group of three figures broke from one of the copses, scrambling in panic along the valley floor. The distance was such that Hunter couldn't make out much about them other than that they weren't adults. A trumpet sounded off to their left like the howl of a nightmare beast, and he spun in the direction of the note. At the far end of the valley, two horsemen galloped after the fleeing children. Their pitch-black steeds seemed to flow along the ground, the hooves barely touching the grass. The riders wore bright colours and seemed intent on their prey.

"C'mon!" Hunter stood, but Whistler grabbed hold of the leg of his trousers.

"It's the Wild Hunt." Whistler stared wide-eyed at the two horsemen.

"There's only two of them," said Hunter.

"They're never far apart. The others will be here soon."

"We can handle two and be out of here before anything happens." Hunter looked at the others who nodded their agreement.

"Aye, he's right, Whistler. We can't leave the humans. You go on and we'll meet you there. We know how to get there now."

"Let's be quick. Sara can you bring the others?" Without waiting for a reply, Hunter began sprinting down the hillside. He surged forward like a cheetah and aimed to put himself between the pursuing faeries and their human prey. He could hear the wind that Sara conjured to carry the others down, even over the whistling caused by his own speed.

He made the valley floor and skidded to a halt facing the faeries. He could see them clearly now. They appeared to be beautiful, if somewhat effeminate, men dressed in bright colours. One pointed at him and smiled. The other raised a double curved hunting horn to its lips and blew. Three more bestial trumpet blasts leapt into the valley.

A wall of flame erupted before the approaching faeries. Hunter didn't wait to see if it stopped them or not; he turned and ran towards the copse the fleeing figures had entered.

The trees were thicker than he had thought, and at first he couldn't see too far in front of him as he pushed his way through the foliage. Then, abruptly, the trees gave way and Hunter stumbled into a clearing.

"Well, well. Look what our little trap has caught."

Hunter recognised that nasal voice and its owner - the bully Brick Thompson. Reece 'The Whippet' Clements and Len 'Blocker' Smith stood either side of their leader. They all looked a little bigger than when Hunter had last seen them. Except Whippet, who looked taller and thinner.

This was not what Hunter was expecting, and despite himself, he took a step backward. "C'mon, we've got to go. The others can't hold the faeries off for long."

"Thought you'd run off, Greenman. You came back though, shame. You're just as small as I remember; once a runt always a runt, I guess." The other two laughed at Brick's comment. Hunter frowned, they seemed very calm considering what was hunting them and how close to capture they had come.

"Do you want to escape or not?"

"You hear that lads. Escape?" Brick looked at Hunter and smiled. "Who are we escaping from? You?"

Hunter began backing away, looking over his shoulder.

"Tethra wanted adults," Brick continued, "but if he don't want you, I'm sure he'll give you to us. We're going to be having all kinds of fun."

"You said it, Brick." Blocker's deep laughter sent chills up Hunter's spine. It had been a trap all along.

He turned and sped towards the edge of the trees, moving even faster than his sprint down the hill. He skidded to a halt as he burst from the copse, fighting to keep his balance.

A ring of horsemen circled the trees, their horses were pitch-black with lips pulled back to reveal savage looking teeth. One of the Night Mares - for that is what Hunter realised they must be - raised its head and bellowed a screeching howl towards the sky. Hunter's eyes slipped from the exquisitely handsome and beautiful riders and their hideous mounts to the three unmoving shapes that lay on the ground just before them. A block of ice settled in his stomach as he saw red hair glowing in the morning sun like fire.

"Brigid!" Hunter heard laughter behind him as he surged towards his friends. He had never felt like this; anger, fear and desolation boiled through him, feeding his need to act. He took all that his powers offered and more, combining abilities in such a way that he became better than any one animal. Never before had he run so fast, been so agile, felt so strong.

Yet, as one of the Wild Hunt sounded a horn, the blast short and urgent, and the faeries moved to meet him, it seemed that he was standing still. The Night Mares flowed into motion without any effort. Their speed was unbelievable, and to make matters worse, they changed direction with no loss of speed, balance or footing. It was as if the laws of physics that bound Hunter had no effect on them. Their riders, unhindered by the great speed, laughed and hollered at each other as they closed on him.

Hunter dodged, jumped, sprinted, but nothing he could do seemed to allow him to make any headway towards his fallen friends. The Hunt, its riders laughing all the while, blocked his every move.

They shot small bolts from pistol-sized crossbows that they all carried, forcing him away at the last minute, or a Night Mare would surge in front of him, stopping as if it had never been moving, causing him to dodge out of the way or run into the large howling beast.

Hunter skidded to a halt amongst the maelstrom of the Hunt, and all the energy sapped from him.

"If you want to play, go find someone else!" He yelled his voice hoarse with his efforts.

As one, the faery stopped in a circle around him. Hunter stared straight at the stunning female now to his front. She smiled and raised her crossbow. Hunter stared back, his teeth clenched, his hands in fists at his side. The faery shrugged her delicate shoulders and fired.

The bolt was across the distance between them before Hunter could even flinch. It struck him in the chest, knocking him off balance and flinging him backwards. There was no pain, just a biting cold that started where the bolt had struck. Hunter fought the wave of fatigue that swept over him and managed to look at the wound. As he did the silver bolt sticking from his chest sunk slowly into his flesh, disappearing from view.

The numbing coldness spread rapidly through his body until every part of him felt like ice. Hunter slumped to the ground, his vision greyed, and the light of the dawning day seemed to dim around him as one of the faeries leapt from its mount and strode towards him. Everything flickered and instead of the stunning female faery, Hunter could see its true form.

The faery bounded towards him on one muscular leg. It only had one arm sprouting from the middle of its chest, looking as if some mad scientist had amputated it from a body builder and sewed it there. Its skin was the colour of coal, and it wore an old, ragged, brown robe, split to the waist to allow its arm to be free. It bent over him as his vision began to fade completely, its mat of dark, long hair framing an angular face. Only one eye, the size of Hunter's closed fist, stared from the face, and its smile revealed a row of jagged, uneven teeth. He heard its voice, harsh and grating, just before he lost consciousness.

"Did you see the way this one moved? I think Tethra would like to see this lot."

* * * *

## Chapter Thirteen

## The Dark Court

The first thing Hunter became aware of was the motion. He was pitching up and down as if he was in a small boat on a rough sea. Each downward motion, or, more to the point, when the downward motion stopped, sent pain surging through his chest and into his arms. He tried to shift into a different position but found he was unable to move. His limbs might as well have been made from marble for all the reaction he got out of them.

Hunter couldn't see anything, and the only noise he could make out through the sound of his own heart beating was a nonstop, rolling thunder. He concentrated hard, trying to ignore the pain. It wasn't thunder, it was hoofbeats, and laced over it, at the very edge of his hearing, something was screaming. The moment's concentration taxed him too much, and once again he faded into blissful unconsciousness.

This time it was the cold that brought him around; it felt like he was lying on a block of ice. His arms and legs were tingling, feeling like ants were crawling all over them. Hunter forced his eyes open. For a moment, colour and light swirled about him in a mad dance, whirling in undulating patterns before coalescing into the shape of a broad back, clothed in a rough, brown robe. With some effort, Hunter managed to turn his head. Everything appeared to be upside down, and it took him a moment to work out exactly what he was seeing.

He guessed he was lying strapped to the back of one of the Night Mares. Around him the Dark Hunt rode, laughing and yelling at each other as they galloped on. One noticed he was awake and, without slowing, veered over. The Night Mare it rode bared its fangs, and with a high-pitched screech, snapped at Hunter. Hunter tried to move, but his muscles still felt weak, and his hands and feet were bound. The monster's teeth snapped in front of his face, with the waft of carrion breath.

The rider leant over so that his face was centimetres from Hunter's. "Don't worry, child. You'll be able to move again. We wouldn't be able to have as much fun if you couldn't. That's of course if you survive Tethra."

Howling with laughter the rider sped away, allowing Hunter to see the other members of the Hunt galloping in an unruly mob about him. Just across from him, he could see Brigid tied to the back of one of the Night Mares. She appeared to be unconscious and was very pale. Craning his neck, he could just make out a pair of long legs clad in dark, battered jeans hanging from another mount. So, Donn and Brigid were here. He closed his eyes against a rising feeling of nausea and hoped that Sara had escaped.

His hope was short-lived as he listened to his captors speak.

"Do you think Tethra will claim them?"

"Don't know. They all had unusual glamour."

"I hope he doesn't. I could have some fun with the blonde-haired girl. It's been a while since I entertained a mortal that pretty."

"Aye, well, there may be some competition for that one."

Hunter, feeling miserable, closed his eyes and tried to wish himself back home.

Hunter was wide awake by the time the Wild Hunt stopped again, though his limbs still felt numb and heavy. A voice carried over the noisy band.

"That's enough. Let's head back to camp."

There was a cheer of approval and they set off once more. Although it was hard to tell from his awkward perch, Hunter thought they had ended up pretty much back where they had been captured, but now the Hunt struck off up the creek. After a few moments, they slowed and dropped into single file. The Night Mares followed the leader carefully, each placing razor-sharp hooves in exactly the same place, as they traced an intricate pattern around and through a circle made up of some type of tree that Hunter didn't recognise.

Without warning, the world seemed to jump to the side, and they were passing under a stone arch and into the hubbub of a camp. The noise washed over Hunter - the sound of conversation, yelling, music and laughter all merged into a single cacophony. Laced through this were sounds from late-night horror movies - howls, screeches and even bloodcurdling screams.

The trip through the gateway must have taken a while for night had fallen. Its blackness was pierced by the flickering light of giant bonfires that Hunter could make out scattered about and stretching off into the distance. Hunter had always found the gentle light of a fire warming and comfortable, but the light of these fires seemed harsh and threatening to him. There were some other sources of light, odd pools of vibrant colours that swirled and pulsed in the darkness, but in his awkward position he was unable to tell what was causing them.

As they progressed through the camp, silence seemed to gather about them, spreading out from them in an ever-increasing circle. Hunter raised his head for a moment and could see faeries of all types thronging around the Wild Hunt. He recognised Phooka, Boggarts, Red Caps, the hulking bulk of Ogres, but there were many more that he did not recognise at all. They stood, pushing at each other to get a good look at the passing Hunt. Then one Boggart pointed and gave a shrill laugh. En masse, the faeries of the Dark Court pushed forwards. Although they seemed scared to get too close to the teeth of the Night Mares, this did not save Hunter. He was grabbed at, poked, pinched, and at one point he was sure something bit him. He yelled in pain and tried to wriggle away from the attack, but his bonds were too tight and held him in place. Hunter pulled at them with the strength of a gorilla, but all this did was cause them to cut into his wrists. Whatever they had used to bind him was very strong.

The sound of the Night Mares' hooves changed as the procession turned to the left. Hunter thought they were now travelling on the remains of a weed and moss-encrusted road. The hooting and hollering mob followed after, but soon the sound subsided a little. Hunter managed to lift his head from the side of the Night Mare and looked back. The faeries of the Dark Court milled around behind them. It was as if they had hit some kind of invisible barrier and could not, or would not, come any further.

The Wild Hunt turned to the right again, and a building seemed to materialise out of the darkness beside them. Laughing and chatting amongst themselves, the faeries dismounted. Hunter's rider undid a rope that had been holding Hunter on to the Night Mare and pulled him onto the ground. The air whooshed out of him, and he lay dazed, with bright lights dancing before his eyes.

"What have you brought me? They look small... maybe we can still have some fun though...

Hunter recognised that voice. He had heard it once before in a dream, when its owner and the Harpist had fought over him.

Hunter looked at the tall figure standing in the doorway of the building - gone were the horns and talons of his dream. This faery looked very much like the Dagda, although there was something about him, the expression on his face, the way he stood with his arms crossed staring down at Hunter, that seemed darker, more threatening.

Someone answered off to his right. "Tethra, these are strange mortals. This one here can call fire, that one moves like no mortal and has the essence of the beasts about him. The pretty one there - well, she controlled the very weather itself. The last," - Hunter thought he heard a sense of uneasiness creep into the voice - "the last reeks of Ankou."

"Ah, perfect, the Dagda's little creations." The voice grew louder as Tethra stepped nearer to Hunter, who managed to roll to his knees even though it caused the cords that bound him to cut fiercely into his flesh. With his head bowed, Hunter gasped, trying to catch his breath. A long finger hooked under his chin, and delicately, almost lovingly, lifted it up until Hunter was looking Tethra in the face.

"Yes, we have met before, have we not? You are Bardon's little friend. Maybe you and I will get to have some enjoyment after all. Tell me, do you know where the Dagda has hidden his worthless hide?"

Hunter couldn't answer; neither could he break his gaze away from Tethra's eyes. The moment he had looked into them, an iron fist had grabbed hold of Hunter's will, binding it to the faery. It was like watching an accident unfurl, you didn't want to look but neither could you tear your eyes away. The noise seemed to dim around Hunter, as he stared into those dark, cat-pupiled orbs.

Pain lanced through his ear. Tethra had grabbed him by the lobe, long fingernails biting deep, and pulled his head roughly to one side. Laughter rippled from the Wild Hunt. "I asked you a question." Tethra's voice still sounded light and friendly. "It is not polite to ignore anyone. Now, do you know where the Dagda is?"

Hunter concentrated on the pain as Tethra let go, using it to try to clear his mind, to try to think of some way out. He managed to shake his head.

"No, hmmmmm." Tethra turned away, his elegant hands clasped behind his back. "You know, I don't think that I believe you." He turned back, exposing shark-like teeth in a smile. "Still, it will be entertaining finding out the truth. Keep them subdued with Elf Shot; they are mine and are not to be hurt... A groan of disappointment rippled around him. "... too much."

A cheer sounded, as again Hunter struggled to free himself. He heard the snap of crossbows being fired and felt cold pain blossom in his back.

Before darkness claimed him, he made out the forms of his three friends lying amongst the hooting faeries of the Wild Hunt.

* * * *

## Chapter Fourteen

## The Harpist

Hunter lay on the hard, earthen floor of his cage. It was still night, but other than that he had no way of knowing how long he had been here. For all he knew, it could be the night following his capture, a week later, even more, he just had no way of telling.

He could hear the sounds of the Dark Court carrying easily on the night air. It sounded like a combination of a party and a riot. He could plainly hear faery music, played on high, trilling pipes. Fainter, but still audible, the sounds of singing and merriment accompanied the haunting melody. Overlaying all these sounds of enjoyment were howls, screams and angry bellowing.

Hunter was no longer bound, and he rolled over and pulled himself up so that he was sitting, leaning against the wooden slats of his cage. He was alone. There was no sign of his friends anywhere. Earlier, he had yelled for them until he went hoarse, calling on the power of the rabbit, so that he could hear the faintest noise. He had strained for a reply - but there was none. Next, he investigated the cage that the Hunt had locked him in, trying to find a way to escape. He suspected that there was a faery glamour of some kind on the bars though, for no matter what he did, or how much strength he plied against them, they did not move as much as a centimetre.

He pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms about them, struggling within himself - trying not to give in to despair, trying not to acknowledge the helplessness of their situation. Instead, he tried to come up with ways to escape, tried to come up with something that he could turn to his advantage - but there was nothing. The cage was empty - just him and the bare earth of the floor. Hunter couldn't even find a door, let alone work out how the cage had been put together. It seemed seamless; there was no weakness he could find to work on. It didn't seem to be built with nails or glue, and neither was it tied. Rather it seemed like the cage had sprung from the ground in one piece.

The sound of footsteps caught his attention, and he looked up. Two green motes of light were bobbing up the hillside towards him. Hunter stared at them with a growing sense of dread. As he watched, Tethra appeared to materialise out of the darkness.

This was how Hunter remembered the leader of the Dark Court from his dream - tall and slender. Horns sprung from the sides of his head, curling back on themselves like a goat's. As Tethra stopped at the cage, his mouth split into a predator's grin, his glowing cat's eyes locked upon Hunter. He gracefully reached out one thin hand and wrapped his long fingers about one bar of the cage, his talons clicking on the surface of the wood. Hunter stared in horror at the demonic form before him.

"I am sorry," Tethra said in his usual rich and resonant tones. His free hand waved before his body as he spoke, as though he were a model displaying new clothes. "I find this visage helpful for dealing with certain factions of the Court. Some are not very subtle and only understand fear and power."

With a cracking sound the bar in Tethra's hand splintered. The faery smiled, seemingly expending no effort to crush the wood that Hunter hadn't even been able to mark.

"Now," he continued, "I believe you and I were going to discuss the whereabouts of the Dagda?"

Hunter stood and faced Tethra, his shoulders squared. "We can discuss it all you like. There is no way I am telling you anything."

"Come now, Lord of Beasts... that is what you are called, is it not? You are alone, where your... - Tethra sniffed in disdain - "... powers are of no use. Things will go easier for you if you tell me what I wish to know."

"What? Are you going to torture me to get the information? It won't help." Although his voice was firm and strong, Hunter had never felt so scared in his life.

"Torture you? Now why would I do that? It'd be far more effective for me to torture your friends until you spoke." A scream sounded somewhere off in the darkness, a high-pitched, female scream.

"Leave them alone!" Hunter surged forward, smashing into the wall of the cage with his shoulder. It didn't move, neither did the Tethra. The faery lord had not even flinched as Hunter hit the cage centimetres from him. Tethra smiled as Hunter reeled back.

"Come, come. I have no need for the violence and mess that go along with torture. Shall I tell you why? Hmm?"

Hunter stood silent, rubbing his shoulder.

Tethra gave an elegant shrug. "Because, I am going to win, regardless. I will win because... no, I will show you. When you understand, then I will make you an offer." A finger stabbed out, pointing at Hunter. "You and your friends' freedom, for the Dagda's whereabouts."

"I will not '... ì"

"But you will, Lord of Beasts. You will have no choice." He waved his hands before the wooden bars, and they obediently bent, leaving enough room for Hunter to squeeze through. Tethra stood in the created gap, smiling.

"You should not entertain thoughts of escape while outside of your, shall we say, lodgings, Lord of Beasts. Some of my followers, even now, hover near to your friends and are looking for the smallest excuse to exercise their baser urges. Do I have your word that you will behave?"

Hunter stood, his teeth grinding in frustration; what else could he do but go along with this charade. He nodded his head sharply.

"Shall we begin then?" Tethra stepped to one side and bowed low, his left arm sweeping out, indicating that Hunter should precede him.

As they walked into the night, towards the sounds of the camp, half a dozen figures fell into formation around them. They hopped along on their single leg, the powerful limb easily allowing them to keep pace with Tethra who seemed to glide along beside Hunter. Each carried a heavy-looking axe in their one hand, their heavily muscled, single arm that seemed to sprout from their chests, easily coping with the weight.

Tethra saw Hunter looking at the unusual sight of their hopping escort. "They are my kinsmen," he said. "The Formorian. For some reason they seem attached to me and wish no harm to come my way."

"So, is that how you look without magic," Hunter asked, as he looked around trying to see any sign of his friends.

Tethra just smiled and walked on. They walked past a small group of buildings and Hunter was able to see the whole camp spread out about him. It was much bigger than he had guessed. Fires flickered in the darkness as far as he could see, looking like twinkling red stars in the distance. He could smell the wood smoke lingering on the calm night air.

Their final destination also became plain to Hunter. Stonehenge stood before them in the distance, glowing with an eerie white light that seemed to pulse in time with some hidden heartbeat. To get there, they had to cross through a section of the camp, and Hunter had expected a mob of hooting and jeering faeries to surround him again. It never happened. The members of the Dark Court were obviously terrified of Tethra or his Formorian bodyguard. They gave the group a wide berth, fighting each other to get out of the way. Those that didn't manage to move in time were dealt with swiftly and violently by the one-legged, one-armed, one-eyed guards. They left more than one faery in their wake, lying still and bleeding.

A bubble of silence seemed to accompany them as they walked through the camp, to be replaced by the chaotic noise of the Dark Court soon after they had passed.

As they neared the famous landmark, Hunter could see that the various arches that made up Stonehenge were all active faery gates, but there was something else about it. As well as the glow, there was a throbbing he could feel in his chest. A bass beat, pounding in time to the flickering of the light. Indeed, as he got nearer, Hunter's ears picked out the sound of harp music - it was music that sounded familiar to him, music he had heard in his dreams when the Harpist had come to him. He stumbled to a halt.

"You recognise the melody? Good, good, but you will not appreciate why you hear that music unless we enter the henge." Tethra grasped Hunter's elbow in a tight, pinching grip and guided him towards one of the arches.

For a second, Hunter felt like he had been plunged into an ice bath, then they were through the gateway. Eyes wide, Hunter stared about him. They had not travelled to another location as he had first thought, but neither were they, strictly speaking, standing in the middle of the great stone circle either.

The columns, cross beams and plinths that now surrounded them, instead of being made of dark, aged stone, appeared to be made from light. Light cables also crisscrossed to and from the top of each gate, forming a glowing thatch above Hunter. At the central spot of the henge, perched on a stool, surrounded by dazzling white light was a hunched, drooling, spasming horror, crouched over a large, oaken harp, his grotesquely shaped hands plucking out the most beautiful song Hunter had ever heard.

"Lord of Beasts, may I introduce Bardon Hearpere."

Hunter's breath caught, and he took an involuntary step forward. That was his father? He stared at the Bardon's face. It appeared droopy, as if it was made from wax and had got too close to a source of heat and had begun to melt. The Harpist's cheek was pushed up against the harp; his eyes were closed, but bulging and moving rapidly under their lids. His hair was long and matted, falling down his back, looking like a felt cloak. Even through the disfigurement, Hunter could recognise his father's face. He became aware of Tethra staring at him, and knew he couldn't let the faery lord know his relationship to the Harpist.

"What have you done to him?" Somehow Hunter managed to keep his voice steady.

"It is all rather clever, one of my better schemes. Let me explain. You see the mighty harp upon which he plays?"

"Yes."

"It is Uaithne, the Dagda's harp. As is his wont, one that I will never understand, the Dagda imparted into this harp some of his power. Bardon Hearpere is the most gifted musician, mortal or faery, I have ever heard, and in his hands, the harp's power is tenfold. Together, harp and mortal are the engine I need for my plan to succeed. It is ironic though, is it not?"

"What is?" Hunter asked, unable to take his eyes from the sight before him.

"That it will be the Dagda's own power that defeats him. You see, I laid a trap for the Bardon. I set a challenge before him. I implied that he could not play the most difficult tune ever composed on the harp. His vanity was piqued, and he took up the challenge and played. And as he played his vanity was fed, the circle was made, the trap sprung. Unable to stop playing, it was easy for me to manipulate him to my ends."

"What about all the faeries, how did the gates open?"

"Patience, Lord of Beasts, patience. You see, I used the power of the harp and music to recharge the ley lines, which have been dormant all these years. That drew our two worlds back together. I then had the Harpist use his power to force open the gates and flood your world with the ley lines' power. There is now more glamour here than there is in Faery. Once that was done, I lured the Dagda into your world, shut the gates to him, and now... well, it is but a matter of time, and our game will have ended, the Dagda beaten."

"And our families, our friends, the destruction of humanity - that was all part of your plan as well?" Hunter snapped.

Tethra shook his head. "I admit that what has happened to the humans has been diverting, and there are those that worked with me only because I could deliver to them this world. As for me, all I have ever wished is the defeat of the Dagda. Now, Faery cannot lie, and I make you this promise, tell me where he is, and I will free you and your friends, and you shall remain free for as long as you live."

The Harper played on as Hunter, feeling like a trapped animal, tried to think through what was happening. The music seemed to dull his thoughts, but one thing Tethra said swam to the surface. "As long as I live," said Hunter. "And how long would that be? I don't care if you are going to win, you won't get any help from me."

Tethra seemed to go into a rage. His face darkened, and his green eyes glittered, his talons flashed in the white light as he flexed his fingers. "You insignificant mortal! How dare you deny me? I offer you salvation and you throw it back in my face. Oh, how I wish I could torture the information from you; I would enjoy causing such exquisite pain that you would scream your wish to tell me what I want to know."

Hunter straightened and smiled - faery didn't lie. "So, you can't torture us for the information. That's good to know."

Tethra went instantly still. When he spoke, his voice was barely more than a whisper. "Oh, I may not be able to torture you, boy. But I can lock you up until you rot. Think of it as you fester in your cage. All you need do to free yourself, to free your friends, is tell me what I need to know. Then it will be over."

The back of Tethra's hand snapped out. Hunter could see the attack coming but could not move fast enough to dodge. With a resounding smack that echoed around the glowing Stonehenge, the blow struck. Bright light flared in Hunter's vision as his face exploded in pain. The force of the blow sent him flying, and Tethra's laughter echoed in his ears as Hunter struck one of the glowing plinths and fell to the ground.

* * * *

## Chapter Fifteen

## Music of the Dream

Hunter was aware of one of the Formorian hopping swiftly towards him. Bending down, it grabbed and hauled him clear of the ground as if Hunter were as light as a feather.

Tethra made no move or sound, but just stood staring at Hunter as the Formorian turned and began heading back through the gateway. It hopped through the camp holding Hunter by his collar like a cat carries its kittens. By the time the Formorian threw him back in his cage, Hunter was half choked and spluttering for breath. He tumbled against the bars on the far side of his cell and lay there gasping until finally he managed to lever himself onto hands and knees, then with his head hanging down he coughed and retched until his breathing returned back to normal.

Straightening up, Hunter softly probed at the side of his face. There were a couple of deep score marks where Tethra's talons had scratched him, and his right eye was swollen and wouldn't stop watering. The whole side of his face stung and throbbed in time with his pulse.

Falling down, he rolled to his back and stared up at the stars sparkling at him from the clear sky. Getting no comfort from the cold distances above him, Hunter closed his eyes. Tethra had been right; what Hunter had seen had shaken him. He could see no way out of this mess, other than giving up the Dagda. If he did that, then there would be no way of getting back to his own time, of stopping the Dark Court.

But then again, with him and his friends free, they stood some chance, didn't they? At least, if nothing else, they'd be free - not that he trusted Tethra. The faery might not be able to tell a lie, but he could easily twist his words to suit his purpose. The stars wheeled slowly above Hunter as these thoughts went in circles through his mind, until finally sleep claimed him.

He had no way of knowing for how long he slept before the music came. The lilting music of the harp seemed to pull at him, dragging at him; he fought it for the first time. Trying to resist its call, he might as well have tried to stop the incoming tide for all the good it did.

Soon, he was standing in the circle of Stonehenge, its age-pitted stones arrayed about him. Bardon Hearpere sat in the centre, playing on his large wooden harp. Not the monster that Hunter had seen earlier that night, this was the Harpist he remembered from his dreams. He was small and slender, seemingly dwarfed by the harp. His shoulder length brown hair moved in the soft wind that blew around the standing stones. The thin, pinched face broke into a smile as Hunter stood before him feeling confused.

"It is OK, Hunter Greenman, my son... Bardon's voice was melodic, his strange French accent intriguing. "Tethra does not understand the harp. He has trapped me, yes, but on occasions, as now, I am myself. When I play the Music of Dreams, I can act again with free will. For a short while, until he or his minions return, I can help you. You can escape."

Hunter wanted to believe what he was hearing, but his mind leapt back to the monster he had seen earlier. "How can I trust you? This could be a trick."

His hands still flying over the harp, Bardon shrugged. "There is nothing I can give you that will answer your concerns, and you are right to be wary. All I can say is that I don't want anything in return - no answers, no payment, nothing. My only wish is for you to escape."

Hunter stared at his father, his mind racing. "What about you?"

"It is too late for me. Tethra's spell has entangled me fully; its strands bind me to the harp and become stronger by the moment. Soon, I will not have any moments of freedom at all. No, Hunter, you must forget me, and save yourself."

"But... Hunter knew in his heart that it was too late for Bardon Hearpere in this future. But, if he could get back home, to his own time, Hunter may still be able to rescue Bardon. He nodded once. "OK, but I'm not going anywhere without my friends."

The Harpist sighed. "I feared that is what you would say. OK... The music seemed to change slightly. "They will be carried to you shortly. I will need to use some of my precious time to waken them, and then I will need to open the cage for you. This means I may not have enough time left to me to help you escape Tethra and the Hunt. Are you sure you will not go alone?"

"I am sure. If I can't leave with my friends, then I am not going."

"So be it. Be ready to move as soon as they wake. And, good luck my son. I may yet have a chance to visit you a few times more, but if not... I am glad that we have met."

A knot seemed to form in Hunter's throat. He tried to answer, but before he could force any words out, the music had stopped, and he had woken up in his cage, with the sound of stomping footsteps coming closer and closer. As he watched, an ogre marched into view, something slung over its huge shoulder. The cage opened before it, and it tossed its bundle in and left.

Brigid sprawled into the cage beside Hunter. Scrambling to his knees, he crawled to her side, and reaching out a hand, gently pushed her flame red hair from her face. She was very pale and felt cold to his touch but seemed to be breathing normally. He bent his mouth close to her ear, until her hair tickled his lips, and whispered, "Brigid? Brigid, it's Hunter."

For a moment, nothing happened, and Hunter's heart sank. Then her green eyes fluttered open, stared at him for a moment in puzzlement... without warning she leaned forward and her arms were about his neck, squeezing tightly. "Oh, Hunter. It's so grand to see you...

Hunter wrapped his arms about her and hugged back. "It's good to see you're OK, too."

They parted, Hunter's hand still on one of Brigid's shoulders, and an awkward silence fell as they stared into each other's eyes. Then her eyes widened a little, and one small hand hesitantly moved towards Hunter's hurt cheek. "Hunter, what '... ¶?"

A snigger sounded from behind them, and Hunter spun to see two Red Caps carrying Sara between them, her blonde hair falling like a waterfall over her down-turned face. The cage opened and they placed her inside.

"C'mon, Arn. Let's leave the lovebirds to it."

"Aye, Syd. Let's. It's not like they're going to have much time left to spend together anyway." Laughing, the two Red Caps began to amble down the hill.

Hunter gave Brigid one last look and then rushed over to Sara's side. She stirred as he rolled her over and her blue eyes flashed open. "Wait until I get my hands on those faeries," she snapped, pushing Hunter's hand aside. "I'll make them pay for handling me like that." Sitting up she looked around their cage, and her eyes narrowed. "Where's Donn?"

"I suspect," said Hunter, "that he'll be along soon."

As if on queue, a huge band of mixed faeries staggered up to the cage carrying Donn between them. Rope tightly bound his arms and legs, at both knees and ankles. He was blindfolded and gagged, and despite all this, the faeries carried him as if at any moment he would launch a savage assault on them. The cage opened before the group, and they threw Donn in, turning and fleeing into the darkness before Donn hit the ground with a loud grunt.

Hunter was next to him quickly, the other two not far behind. As Hunter and Brigid worked at the bindings, Sara removed the blindfold and gag. Donn spat into the grass, "Blah... that rag tasted and smelt like they'd used it to wrap old cheese." He spat again, and lay still until Hunter had untied the ropes. Then he rolled over, rubbing at his ankles then wrists. "So, they got us all."

"Aye," said Brigid, as she sat cross-legged and arranged her bright skirt about her. "There will be no good coming from it too, I'm sure."

Sara surged to her feet. "Well then, let's not sit around, let's get out of here."

Donn also stood and stretched before walking over to the bars. He wrapped his hands about them and shook the cage. "Seems pretty solid."

"I could try burning them?" Brigid said, stepping up next to Sara.

"They're glamoured, I don't think we can open them, or break them." Hunter frowned. "Have you guys just woken up?"

"Aye."

"Yes, haven't you?" Sara spun, placing her hands on her hips.

"No... I have had a... Hunter's hand stole up to his still throbbing cheek, "... discussion with Tethra."

Swiftly he filled them in, telling them everything about his meeting and the harper's visit in his dreams.

"Why don't we just tell Tethra what we know?" asked Sara. "I'm sure we could get him to agree to leave us be. Get him to say it in such a way that he would have to do it."

Hunter shook his head. "If we told him where the Dagda is, then we would not have a chance of getting there before Tethra. The Dagda is our only way home, and I for one do not want to be stuck in this future."

"Me either," Donn said in his gravelly voice.

"But," said Sara, "if this is the future, then won't it come to be anyway? Won't we have to live through it?"

"I don't think so," replied Hunter. "Remember the graveyard? We weren't here, we didn't do anything to try to stop all this. If we return...

"Also," added Brigid, "didn't Emmeline say that this was a possible future? Not the only one?"

Sara whipped her hair back, formed it into a rough ponytail, using a hair tie that she produced from her pocket to hold it in place. "OK, so we escape. What are we waiting for?"

Before Hunter could reply, the soft sound of harp music drifted to them on the night wind, and with it came the creaking of shifting wood, as the bars opened before them.

"My guess," said Donn, "is we were waiting for that." Ducking his head he walked out of the cage, the other three close on his heels.

They crouched together in a small group, a short distance from the recently vacated cage.

"To get to the gates at Stonehenge we're going to need to go through a section of the camp," Hunter said, staring out at the twinkling fires below. "Any ideas?"

"A diversion," said Donn straight away.

"Aye," said Brigid. "That'd be best. We need to draw the fae away from our path. Get them somewhere else."

Hunter nodded, as he quickly went through options. A grin appeared. "I have an idea, but first, how do we make the gates work, and more important, take us to where we want to go?"

All their eyes turned to Brigid. She sighed and rolled her own. "OK... hang on." Her look went vacant for a short moment, then she focused again and grinned. "Easy enough. They're major gates, open and powered. We aren't going to be able to choose Regent's Court, as I am guessing that we won't have time to circle the gate three times like Whistler said. But, if you enter a major gate with no destination in mind, well, then it'll be taking you back to the place you last travelled from. All we need do is cross through and the gates will do the rest."

"OK, then," said Hunter. Everything was coming together, and this might just work. "Here's the plan...

* * * *

## Chapter Sixteen

## Flight

"You see the two fires, the ones close together?" Hunter's finger pointed out the fires plainly visible in the night's darkness.

Two separate groups of faeries stood around each fire, ignoring each other, with their backs turned to the other group. Hunter could see their silhouettes against the flickering orange light. He couldn't tell what kind of faery they were, but both groups were large, and to judge by their singing it sounded like they had been drinking.

"Yeah," Sara whispered from her place by his side.

"That large faery by the left-hand fire. Try that one."

"I've never tried something this exact," Sara said, facing him, her eyes wide.

"You'll be fine, Sara," Brigid said from Hunter's other side. "Just take your time."

Hunter briefly placed his hand on Sara's back. "Brigid's right, you've got us out of tighter spots than this."

Sara flashed them both a smile. "OK, just a soft jab first up?"

"Yep, to begin with," Hunter replied.

Sara went still beside him, and then a soft breeze seemed to begin blowing about her. Her hair lifted and began to wave around her in a golden curtain. A branch in front of them, chosen for its size and weight, twitched, seemed to jump and then took off into the air. It floated for a moment, dipping and diving, until Sara gained control.

Hunter offered encouragement, echoed by Brigid, as the stick began floating eerily towards the fires. The flames leapt and danced as the breeze that carried the stick fanned them. The faeries around the fires seemed not to notice as the flames flared up into the darkness. The branch hovered behind the faery that Hunter had pointed out, and then, darting forward, it jabbed into his back.

As the faery turned, the stick jumped straight up out of its line of sight. The faery yelled something to the group behind it, brandishing a fist. They, in their turn, returned the abuse. Then both groups turned back to the fires, grumbling and murmuring to each other.

"Once more," whispered Hunter. "Same as last time."

Again, the stick jabbed the faery. This time, yelling in fury, it spun and shoved the closest faery from the other group. The pushed faery staggered back and appeared to be about to launch itself at its attacker when its mates grabbed it and held it back. The two groups yelled at each other a bit more and then, still bristling, returned to their fires.

"OK," said Hunter. "Hit him this time, nice and hard."

"This is going to work," said Brigid, her hand grabbing Hunter's arm, squeezing tightly.

"You ready?" Hunter said to her.

"Aye, as ready as I'm going to be."

Hunter nodded and turned back to see the branch strike the faery so hard across the shoulders that it broke with a loud crack. The faery staggered forward then bellowing turned and threw itself at the opposing group of faeries. Soon, there was a twisting knot of shapes bellowing and yelling as fists and claws rose and fell in the red light of the fires. The sound of the fight drifted over the camp, and Hunter became aware of others coming to investigate and getting involved in the 'enjoyment' of the combat.

"Brigid, now," he whispered needlessly as the growing noise of the fight would easily have masked his voice from any of the faeries nearby.

All the fires flared up in the area, and flickering tendrils of flame leapt to nearby lean-tos and tents. Soon, the shelters blazed brightly into the night, attracting yet more attention from the Dark Court.

"Well done, guys. Let's move." Hunter let Brigid and Sara go before him then followed as they made their way back to the cage where Donn waited.

"I see it went OK," Donn said as they ran up to him.

"They did great," said Hunter, looking at the grinning girls. "Now, do your thing and let's get out of here."

Donn nodded, and pulled himself up to the fullest of his tall height. "Stand close," he said.

The darkness seemed to intensify around them as they moved closer together. The temperature dropped, and the breeze stilled about them.

OK," Donn's voice sounded as if it were echoing from a great distance. "It's darker around us. Should make it more difficult for anyone to make us out."

The sound of the riot intensified as they set out. Howling, screeching, yells of anger, even the clash of weapons, all sounded from further off in the camp. They stood so close together as they walked that it wasn't easy to move quickly, but they made steady pace towards where Hunter knew Stonehenge was.

It seemed for the most part that the plan had worked. Like moths to a light, most of the faeries found themselves drawn into the area of the camp where the fighting raged - either to join in, watch, or attempt to break it up. There were still a few faeries scattered about the area that they travelled through; these they gave a wide berth to, the darkness they walked in keeping them hidden from casual observation.

Soon the softly glowing stones of the henge loomed up before them, and it was all Hunter could do to stop himself from charging towards the gateway they formed, and freedom. He took comfort from his friends around him, and breathing heavily, managed to keep pace with the others.

They were only ten metres from the arch they were heading for, when Hunter saw Tethra and four Formorian step from the gap between two gateways just in front of them. His breath caught, and he suddenly became aware of just how exposed they were.

"Run!" he yelled.

The others leapt forward, running for the gateway. Hunter stared intently at Tethra as he ran after them. The faery lord's eyes widened for just a moment, and then he smiled, and an elegant hand flicked up. As he did so a wall of fire jumped up between them and a huge gust of wind caught the one-legged Formorian and sent them staggering back. Donn had appeared to get taller and darker, and numbing coldness rippled from him. Hunter leapt forward, intending to jump the flames and buy his friends time, but then Tethra acted.

The firewall shrank, wavered and then went out, reminding Hunter of a guttering candle. The assaulting wind dropped to a gentle breeze, and something caught hold of Hunter. It felt as if an iron band had tightened around his waist; he strained against it, but could not move at all. Flicking his eyes to the right, he could see the others were in the same situation.

"So close," said Tethra. His voice sounded light and friendly as he walked slowly towards them, taking an exaggerated step over the scorched mark that was the only thing left of the fire barrier. "So close. Are you going to let me have some fun, or are you going to tell me how you got out of your cages '... ¶?"

Harp music seemed to swell up around them, and whatever was holding Hunter back disappeared, and he staggered a few steps forward, fighting for balance.

"Bardon... Tethra said quietly, and then bellowed loudly, spittle flying from his mouth. "Bardon!"

"Quick, the gateway." Hunter yelled, surging forward.

The music rose in volume, and this time it appeared that it was the Formorian and Tethra who were held in place. Hunter stopped at the gateway as his three friends ran through. He looked briefly at Tethra; the faery's teeth were gritted in an expression of pure anger. Despite the music, Tethra's hand was rising slowly, as if to point at Hunter. Not wanting to be around to see what would happen when the movement finally finished, Hunter turned and ran.

Passing through the gate was like stepping off the back of a moving vehicle. Hunter seemed to have too much forward momentum, and he took small, stuttering steps forward to stop himself from falling, his arms wheeling for balance.

He came to a halt with the others at the top of a small rise. A circle of old rocks, arranged around the top of the hill so they looked like a crown, formed the gate they had just exited from. Below them was a creek, winding its way back up the valley, the sun glinting off its grey surface. The long grass of the surrounding fields waved in the soft breeze so it looked like a green sea with waves rolling across its surface.

"Back up the creek," Hunter yelled. "Quick, I don't think Bardon can hold them for long." Not waiting for an answer, he ran down the hill and heard the footsteps of the others close behind.

As they made the floor of the valley, Donn called out, "The Wild Hunt will catch us before we reach Whistler."

"Donn's right," Brigid's words came almost as swift as her footfalls. "We're going to have to do something to lose them; otherwise we'll end up back there. Does anyone have any ideas? Anyone?"

They skidded to a halt at the edge of the creek, the water gurgling below them as it forced its way through a narrow point between the two banks.

"Ah... Hunter closed his eyes in thought, and images of beasts hunting played in his mind's eye. He saw things from both the hunter's and the hunted's point of view, and the strategies of each formed in his mind. His eyes snapped open, and he swiftly surveyed the terrain around them.

The bent grass made it obvious where they had come down the hill, but that couldn't be helped. His eyes went back to the creek.

"OK, everyone in the water, and we'll head upstream. Sara, it'd be good if the wind was behind us. I don't know if those Night Mares have good senses of smell or not, but it would be best if we were upwind of them anyway. Can you do that?"

"Of course she can. It'll be a breeze," said Donn.

"I can do that, Hunter. If this idiot," - she grabbed Donn's arm as if he might try and run - "will guide me. I don't want to fall over in there."

With that, they entered the creek in single file, Hunter first, then Brigid, then Donn guiding Sara. A soft breeze sprang up behind them which would blow away both their scent and any sound that they might make. Once they had turned a bend and could no longer see the gateway Hunter felt a little more comfortable, even though he expected to hear the Hunt at any moment.

As they travelled, his eyes scanned the banks. They had only been jogging along for about five minutes before he saw what he was looking for. A large rock butted out into the creek just ahead of them. Moving to it, Hunter scrambled up until he was standing on its top.

"If we climb up here," he said, "we won't leave prints on the bank, then if we walk across the roots of those trees there, we should get far enough away from the creek to make finding our trail difficult."

To show what he meant, Hunter walked out onto the gnarled and knobby roots of a copse of old trees that were clumped near the bank of the creek. He was careful to try and stand only on the roots, and stopping and looking, he was satisfied that he hadn't left any footprints. The others swiftly followed his lead, and together they decided that they would be best to head up and over the small hill that they now faced. Hunter knew that the grass would clearly show where they had gone, but hoped that it would spring back, hiding their passage, long before anyone chasing them found this spot.

They managed to get over the hill and down the other side before Hunter staggered. A wave of tiredness seemed to sweep over him as his adrenaline levels dropped and the leftover effects of the Elf Shot kicked in.

"I'm knackered," Donn commented from beside him.

"Aye, we should think of having a rest before going on."

"I'm not taking another step, and that's that," said Sara.

"OK," Hunter replied. "Let's shelter over there, and we'll rest up for a short bit." He nodded towards a clump of gorse just off to their left.

The group staggered over and collapsed in the prickly shelter of the bushes, Sara complaining about the scratches dealt out by the sharp thorns. Hunter sighed deeply as he sat, his knees drawn up, his arms draped across them, his head bowed. He felt like he hadn't slept for days.

"This is a prickly situation," said Donn, as he shifted around trying to find a comfortable spot.

"It was kind of interesting seeing the Dark Court though," said Brigid in a quiet voice. "I mean, all those different types of faery we hadn't seen before, the songs they were singing, it was all so, well, interesting."

"Interesting is not the word I'd use," said Sara, doing her best to comb out her hair with her fingers. "Do you think we've lost them?"

"Yeah, I'd say we've given them the slip for now." No sooner were Hunter's words out of his mouth than he was proved wrong.

Up on the ridgeline of the hill they had just come down, a figure riding what was unmistakably a Night Mare appeared. It stopped, silhouetted against the brightness of the sky, the mount clawing at the ground with its front hoof. Then the rider raised a glittering horn to its lips, and the hunting call of one of the Wild Hunt sounded piercingly clear. Soon answering horn calls echoed from the valley beyond.

The Wild Hunt had found them already.

* * * *

## Chapter Seventeen

## Harried

The four friends scrambled to their feet and ran through the gorse, ignoring the thorns that snagged and ripped at their clothes. They ploughed on through the knee-high grass, aiming for a tall row of trees ahead of them.

At any moment, Hunter expected to hear the horns of the hunt, the screams and pounding hoofbeats of the Night Mares, expected to feel the biting chill of Elf Shot. Yet the only thing he did hear were some birds twittering nervously as the four ran near to their nesting site, and somewhere in the distance a hawk screeched in frustration at missing its prey.

To his surprise, they made the tree line, and panting heavily, he turned to look for their pursuers. He could not see a single member of the Wild Hunt following them. Hunter frowned - that wasn't right, he had seen how the Night Mares moved. Those monstrous mounts should've easily been able to run him and his friends down. He pointed this out to the others.

"I far rather things the way they are now," said Donn.

Sara was staring at her shoes, now muddy and dew stained. "I wish they were here, I want to make someone pay. I liked these shoes." She flashed a look at Hunter, as if she blamed him.

"Does anyone know how to get back to Whistler's gate?" Brigid asked. "If so, it seems better going back there than just hoping we come across another gate like it."

Hunter managed to tear his attention from the field they had just crossed, forced himself to stop wondering why they hadn't been caught. "All I know," he said, "is that we were carried up the creek. I was planning to just go down it until something looked familiar."

"As good a plan as any," said Donn.

"So," said Brigid, "we don't want to go back the way we've just come, and it sounded like the Wild Hunt was in the valley where the creek is. If we walk this way for a bit," - she pointed in the direction the creek had been running in the other valley - "then we try and cut back across, we should be roughly in the right area. Any idea how far they travelled with us?"

Hunter shook his head. "No, but those Night Mares move fast."

"OK, then. Let's wander this way for an hour and see how things go from there," she replied.

No one else had any other ideas, although Sara made it obvious by crossing her arms and sighing loudly what she thought of having to walk. They set out under the mid-morning sun, which shone brightly from a clear blue sky.

As they walked in silence, each of them locked in their own thoughts, the hawk screamed again. Calling a brief halt, Hunter closed his eyes and imagined the hawk soaring above the rolling landscape. Once that image was firmly in his mind, he imagined what it would feel like to be the hawk. He concentrated on the wind flowing over his wings and tail, the lift of the thermals, his muscles working as he occasionally adjusted the spread and angle of his wings and tail.

With a screech, he opened his eyes. The fields spread out below him like a map. The hawk's eyes, his eyes, could easily pick out individual leaves, small animals and birds, and the four humans (he vaguely remembered as friends) below. There was no one else, not a sign of the Hunt anyway, not even prints left behind by the Night Mares. Screeching in frustration he opened his eyes and was once more standing with his friends.

"I hate it when you do that," said Brigid. "The way your eyes roll up... but it must be cool seeing and feeling what a hawk does. To feel what it's like to fly '... ì"

Hunter knew that Brigid could go on for ages so he interrupted her. "Yeah, it is cool. The Wild Hunt's nowhere to be seen, by the way. Not a sign of them."

"Good," said Sara. "Maybe we can have that rest now."

"Aye, that would be nice," said Brigid.

Hunter still felt unsure of their safety. "Let's just go on a little further, then we'll rest and cut back up and over the hill."

After a quarter of an hour, Hunter began looking for a place to hide and take a break. It soon became obvious that there was nowhere suitable close by, so he gave up the search. Instead, they all just sat down in the grass, which was long enough to hide them easily from a casual observer. Hunter picked a long stalk and placed one end in his mouth. He didn't feel as tired as he had; the effect of the Elf Shot seemed to be wearing off.

"Have you been thinking how we're going to stop Tethra once we get back?" asked Brigid, catching his attention.

"Not really," he replied. "I guess we need to try and get the harp off him somehow."

Sara drew her knees up, wrapping her arms about them. "I'm glad I didn't have to deal with Tethra. He seems... spooky. I certainly don't want anything to do with him once we get back home."

Hunter's hand moved up to touch his injured face. Brigid slapped it away. "Leave it alone, Hunter, will you? It's not going to be healing with you prodding and poking at it."

"Sorry, Mum." Hunter flashed Brigid a grin before turning to Sara. "He is spooky, that's for sure, but we haven't got any choice. You've seen what will happen if we don't do anything. It all comes down to that harp. We have to come across a way of breaking its hold over the Harpist and getting it back to the Dagda."

"The Athame." Donn's rasping voice sounded from behind Hunter.

"What?" Hunter turned, frowning.

"The Athame, it... said Donn, raising a pale hand and waving it about as he looked for the right word.

Brigid saved him the trouble. "That's brilliant, Donn." She looked over at Sara and Hunter, who stared back blankly. Brigid rolled her eyes. "The Athame is used to cut ties and bindings. We could use it to free '... ì"

Hunter sat up straight as he heard the very faint strains of harp music, then a series of horn blasts stopped Brigid speaking and sent them all diving flat on the ground. Hunter closed his eyes and let his mind detect the animals in the surrounding area. He flitted from mind to mind until he found what he was after. A squirrel sat in the branches of a tree as elfin riders on Night Mares made to look even bigger from a squirrel's perspective thundered by below.

Opening his eyes, he jumped into a crouch. "C'mon, we can't stay here. They are on our trail but back up the valley near where we first hid. If we go now we'll get up the hill."

Without waiting to see if his friends followed, Hunter began running, bent almost double to keep in the cover of the long grass. He stopped halfway up and, pausing so the others would go past him, he looked back the way they had come. Way off in the distance he could just make out the pursuit rapidly moving in their direction. He turned, and with a burst of speed he soon caught up with the others. "Keep moving," he said between panting breaths. "They'll be here soon."

By the time they reached the crest of the hill, they could plainly hear the thundering hoofbeats of the pursuit. There was a musical cry from below, and Hunter spun to see the Wild Hunt streaming past the base of the hill. The riders yelled and laughed, the Night Mares snarled, screamed and howled. As the mounts turned, so quickly that it appeared that their heads and tails had swapped ends, the riders sent a volley of quarrels up from their pistol crossbows.

"Watch out!" Hunter yelled, so loud that his voice cracked. The bolts rose dark against the sky and then began to fall amongst the friends. Like a darting mongoose, Hunter sprung to one side as the arrows pierced the hard ground near where he had been standing. He rolled to his feet and looked at the others. Brigid's hand shot out, and a fan of fire flew from her fingers, incinerating the arrows speeding her way. With an angry whistle, a huge wind sprang up around Sara, scattering any missiles that came near her. Donn just stood there staring down at the faeries below. As Hunter watched, his friend seemed to grow taller and gaunter, his clothes darkened. The arrows that hurtled towards Donn seemed to just stop in mid-air, as if they had hit a force field, and fell harmlessly to the ground.

On impulse Hunter bent down and ripped one of the bolts from the ground, then with a yell he herded the others up and over the brow of the hill. He could still hear the sounds of the Wild Hunt, that odd mixture of spine-chilling howls and screams, and the counterpoint of laughter and song, coming from the other side.

Madly Hunter, Brigid, Sara and Donn sprinted down the steep bank, travelling so fast that they barely managed to keep from falling. The cold water was a shock as they splashed their way through the small creek at the bottom of the slope and then began jogging downstream, all of them breathing heavily. As soon as they entered the creek the sounds of the Hunt went silent. Even when Hunter used the hearing of a rabbit there was nothing.

Brigid was the first to break their own silence as they slowed to a walk a good ten minutes later. "That was odd. My fire didn't stop their arrow things the last time."

"No, the wind didn't affect them either," said Sara. "What did you do?" Her blue eyes turned accusingly on Hunter.

"Nothing, I... Hunter lifted the arrow he carried before his eyes. It was about 30 centimetres long, made of a dark brown, smooth wood, with a small, very sharp looking, grey arrowhead that looked to have been chipped from some kind of stone.

"They didn't use Elf Shot," he said softly.

"What?" Sara's voice cracked with frustration.

"Look," said Hunter, holding up the arrow. "This isn't Elf Shot... this is just a plain old arrow."

"That'd explain it," said Donn.

"Aye, t'would," said Brigid. "But why not use the Elf Shot? They must have known we had a chance of stopping that." She pointed at the arrow Hunter held.

"Maybe they're just stupid," said Sara.

"I doubt that," said Hunter; he furrowed his brow. "I think I know what's going on. They're not chasing us, they're following us."

"Why would they be following us? Why not just capture us again?" asked Brigid.

"Let's see if I'm right first. We'll stop here; if I am right then the Hunt will appear soon after. Then, as long as we keep moving they'll leave us be. So, when... if... they do appear, we run downstream. Agreed?"

The others looked less sure of Hunter's idea but nodded anyway. They sat under the shade provided by a lone willow that leant over the bank of the creek draping its branches in the water. They looked anything but relaxed as they scanned the landscape behind them.

Again, Hunter heard the faint strains of a harp before the pounding hoofbeats of the Wild Hunt drowned it out. He jumped to his feet, "Here they come!"

"Where? I can't... Brigid's words died as the Hunt appeared behind them, a black stain flowing across the grass some distance off.

Without further comment, the four all jumped to their feet and began running. Hunter resisted the temptation to look back as the sound of the Hunt got louder and louder. The thought that he must've got it wrong flashed through his mind as the noise reached such a crescendo that it sounded as if the Wild Hunt were about to run them down. Then the noise just stopped. This time Hunter did look and could just make out the last of the Hunt crossing back over the hill behind them.

Calling to the others he slowed to a walk.

"Right, Hunter. What's going on?" asked Sara. The others turned to Hunter, also looking for an answer.

* * * *

## Chapter Eighteen

## Glamour Form

"We didn't escape," said Hunter as they continued walking down the stream.

"What do you mean? We got out of the camp, didn't we?" Sara asked, her blue eyes staring at him as though he were crazed.

"That's not what I mean," Hunter's brow furrowed and his lips tightened as he thought through what he did mean. "We didn't escape, they let us escape."

"Why would they do that?" asked Brigid. "After all, they had us exactly where they wanted us."

"Yes, but, when I was talking to Tethra, when he was trying to get the whereabouts of the Dagda out of me, he kind of let slip that he couldn't force us to tell him."

"What? Since he couldn't get what he wanted, Tethra let us go? Just like that?" said Sara.

"That's just the point, he wouldn't and didn't. He's using us to lead him to the Dagda," replied Hunter.

Brigid slapped a hand against her forehead. "Of course. That's why the Wild Hunt are turning up any time we stop. To prod us on, to keep us moving."

"Which means," continued Hunter, "when we do get back to the Dagda, Tethra and the Dark Court will be right on our heels, and the Dagda won't have time to send us back because he'll be fighting for his life."

"So," said Donn, "we either don't go to the Dagda and never get home, or we go straight to the Dagda, lead the Dark Court to him, and... well, never get home."

"There must be something we can do," said Sara. "How do they know where we are? Are they watching us?" She looked around, her eyes narrowed, as though she expected one of the Wild Hunt to be hiding amongst them.

"I think the Harper is using the magic of Uaithne to keep track of where we are," said Hunter. "I can hear faint harp music just before the Wild Hunt shows up each time."

"Which means we're stuck, right enough." Brigid worked at a tangle in her hair as she spoke. "The only way to put enough space between us and the Wild Hunt would be to teleport directly there, or I don't know, travel there through some other world they couldn't get to."

"I could do that," said Donn from his position at the back of the four.

"Do what?" Hunter asked, looking back over his shoulder at his tall friend.

"Take us somewhere else."

"How and where, and... Sara spun around, hands on hips. "Don't make me come back there and rip the answers out of you."

Donn grinned. "OK... OK... Look, I think I can open a gateway into, well, into the underworld. We go down there, travel for a bit, come back up and '... ì" Donn shrugged.

"The fey wouldn't follow us there," Brigid said. "And though they would detect us as soon as we came back up, it might give us time for the Dagda to send us home."

"There is a problem," Donn said. "It'll take a little while to open the gateway."

"How long is a 'little while'?" asked Hunter.

"Don't know. It's not like I've done this before... maybe five minutes."

Hunter grimaced. "The Wild Hunt isn't going to leave us alone for that long, which means we're going to have to fight them off while Donn gets his gate open... I mean, if we go ahead with this, of course."

"How can we fight them?" asked Sara. "All they have to do is use those Elf Shot things, which they are bound to do once they work out what we are planning. There isn't anything we can do to stop them then."

"I think I might have an answer to that. Adder Stones," said Brigid.

"Which are?" Hunter prompted.

"Flint, shards of it that look like arrowheads, to be exact. They need to be cleaned in running water and blessed with a Gaelic phrase. They are supposed to protect against Elf Shot."

"So, it's just a simple matter of finding flint," said Sara.

Brigid gestured to the dark grey rock at the edge of the creek and smiled. "Already done," she said. "We also have an ample supply of running water, and I know the phrase."

"OK." Hunter lightly rubbed at his sore cheek while he spoke. "How do we get flint that looks like arrowheads?"

"Just grab one of the heavier rocks from the creek bed, and whack at the flint. You should be able to get some flakes to be coming off, then it's just some careful chipping to shape it, and you're done."

Hunter bent down, plunged his hand into the cool water and grasped a good-sized black rock. Then walking over to some of the flint, he struck a ringing blow. The grey rock fractured, little pieces showering into the water. Bending down, Hunter scooped up a few likely looking shards and then repeated the process at the next piece of flint. In moments, he had a good collection of shards that he took over to Brigid. Still wandering along, so as not to attract the Wild Hunt, Brigid took the shards selecting four triangular ones of about the same size.

"Grand," she said. "It won't be taking much to get these looking right." She placed all but one of the shards in her pocket and then began working on the remaining one, scraping and tapping lightly at it with a stone that she had picked up, her face bent close to her work.

The others walked along beside Brigid, talking quietly.

"Are we getting close to that mushroom circle yet, do you think?" asked Sara.

Hunter looked at the terrain they were passing, none of it looked familiar. "I don't think so. It's hard to say really."

"Yeah," agreed Donn. "It's not as if any of us were in a position to take much notice of our surroundings after the Hunt got us."

"How are you going to know where to open up this gate thing then," asked Sara, stopping for a moment to scoop up some of the cool water and splash it on her face.

Donn shrugged. "That's the other problem."

"What, you won't be able to open a gate out of the underworld?" Hunter asked.

"Nah, I'll be able to open one," said Donn. "I just don't know if I'll have any control on exactly where it opens."

Hunter rubbed at his eyes with a thumb and forefinger, as Brigid looked up from her work.

"Right then," she said brightly. "We have ourselves three choices. We lead the Wild Hunt to the Dagda and hope that his lot can hold them off long enough for him to send us home. We forget getting home and lead the Hunt on a wild-goose chase, though that'll come to fighting in the end, as I doubt the Wild Hunt will leave us be once they realise we aren't leading them where they want. Or... she paused holding up the triangular piece of flint she held, looked at it carefully, nodded and then placed it in her pocket. Still walking slowly she withdrew one of the other pieces and began working on that. "Or, we take Donn's gateway and lose the Hunt for a bit. We may not know where we'll come up, but it might give us a chance."

"Well," said Hunter. "I'm not ready to give up just yet. I vote for the underworld."

"Aye," said Brigid. "It'd be interesting to see this place Donn will take us to."

Sara looked from one to the other and then sighed loudly. "This underworld better not be too dusty or dirty!"

"Then," said Donn, "it doesn't really matter what I think."

"What, you would have voted no? You're the one who brought the idea up," said Hunter.

"Let's just say it won't be fun," said Donn.

"Like any of this is," Sara snapped over her shoulder.

Hunter tried to ignore the ominous tone of Donn's last statement as they wandered down the creek waiting for Brigid to finish her work. He had been wrestling with a thought that had occurred to him a while back, and as Brigid displayed the last of her creations, he finally put voice to his idea.

"We're going to have to fight off the Wild Hunt for a short while before the gates open. Now, Brigid's Adder Stones will help if they use Elf Shot." The redhead flashed him a smile. "I think we can become more powerful though."

"What are you talking about, Hunter?" asked Sara.

Hunter sighed in frustration. "It's hard to explain."

"Do your best," said Brigid.

"OK, look, there is more faery power here now. Tethra said there was even more here than in Faery itself. Faery and our world are locked together. The ley lines are active, which is amplifying the faeries' power. Tethra may have blocked the Dagda from using it properly, but I don't think he has done that to us."

"So?" Sara prompted.

"So, I think we can use that extra power to take on our glamour forms. You know, those images we saw when the Dagda showed us our powers."

Sara frowned. "What good will that do?"

It was Brigid who answered. "Those are the pure representation of our powers. If we can take on those forms, then we will have more power to fight with."

Hunter nodded. "That's the plan."

"All right, but how do we take on these glamour forms?"

"I'm guessing," said Hunter, "the same way we use our powers. We concentrate hard on what we want, and... He shrugged.

"Go on then, show us." Sara stopped and looked at him.

Hunter looked around and noticed a small rise off to his left. It flattened out for a short space, depressed slightly like a bowl, before the hill continued on so steep that he would need to climb it using hands and feet. There was a large rock on one edge of the bowl, protecting them from that direction. A good place to make a stand, he pointed it out to Donn.

"That work for your gateway?"

Donn looked at it for a moment then nodded.

"Right," Hunter began wandering towards the spot. "First, Brigid what do we do with your stones?"

"Hang on," Brigid trotted back to the creek, then dipped each stone in the water before lifting it to her lips and whispering words too quiet for the others to hear. Running back, she handed a stone to each of them. Hunter gripped his carefully, the triangular-shaped stone's edges were surprisingly sharp, and the point looked wicked. "They need to be touching your skin, then they'll do their thing."

After a moment's thought, Hunter tucked his stone into the waistband of his trousers and tightened his belt to hold it in place. By the time he looked up at the others, they had also dealt with their own stones.

"Right then," Hunter began to walk on towards the selected spot again. As he did, he closed his eyes and let the calls of the animals going about their daily lives wash over him. He tried to remember the form he had seen back when he had first met the Dagda - a tall, bare-chested man, lean, but well muscled. Instead of a human head, a magnificent stag's head, antlers reaching for the sky, liquid brown eyes staring at him with hidden knowledge and understanding.

The animals about them seemed to go crazy, all crying out in their differing voices - birds whistled and screeched, a dog howled in the distance, mice and rats lent their quiet voices to the call. All the animals in the area called out in happiness and greeting for their lord had come among them.

With a thought, Hunter silenced them. He instantly knew all the animals knew, could see and hear what they could. He felt power and agility coursing through every fibre of his body. Opening his eyes he realised he had stopped walking, the others stood before him, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"I'm guessing it worked then?" he said in a voice deep and echoing.

They just continued to stare, although Hunter could hear Donn mumble 'cool' quietly under his breath. Raising a muscled, brown arm, Hunter pointed up the hill.

"C'mon," he said. "The Hunt hasn't started moving yet, but they will. You two need to summon your other forms. Donn, you need to get started on the gateway."

"Whatever you say, dear," Donn grinned as he spoke.

His comment seemed to break the spell on the others as they groaned.

"Maybe if Donn changed," Sara said as they walked up the hill, "his sense of humour would improve."

Brigid closed her eyes and begun mumbling to herself. Although Hunter could hear her voice clearly, he could not understand the language she spoke. Suddenly, she stopped and threw her head back. She seemed to flicker, like an image on a badly tuned television, and then it wasn't Brigid standing there. It was a tall, athletic looking woman, wearing a red leather vest and trousers. In one hand, she held a large black bow, in the other a flaming arrow. There were more in a quiver attached to her belt at the hip. Her waist-length red hair hung down her back in a braid. She looked at the others and smiled. "Wow," was all she said.

By the time, they reached the bowl, Sara was murmuring angrily to herself. As Donn, without comment, went and stood in the centre of the depression she finally snapped. "Well, if you two can do it, so can I."

She closed her eyes and held her arms out wide. It seemed to take a little longer than it had for both Hunter and Brigid, but just as Hunter became aware of the Wild Hunt moving, Sara's form also flickered and changed.

The woman now standing before them was not as tall as Brigid's current form. Her long blonde hair and the flowing white dress she wore whipped about as if caught in a strong wind. As Hunter watched, Sara's bare feet lifted clear of the ground until she hovered half a metre above it. Her eyes flicked open, revealing eyes that were all pupil, there was no iris or whites at all. Every now and then, a miniature lightning bolt seemed to flicker across their dark surface.

"I did it," Sara said, in a voice that reminded Hunter of a storm.

"Good," he said, his nostrils quivering as he scented the air. "Because here they come."

* * * *

## Chapter Nineteen

## The Dark Gate

Hunter could hear, and smell, the Wild Hunt off in the distance, yet he was unable to see them - with his own eyes at least - animals of all descriptions allowed him to see through their eyes. To Hunter, as he concentrated on what the beasts showed him, it was like watching a television on which someone was constantly changing the channel.

He saw the Hunt from the ground level view of rabbits and mice, and from the air and treetops as birds shared what they saw. Deer, lizards, a fox, even a badger awoken by the sense of its master's plight, shared their visions of the Wild Hunt.

The Night Mares moved so quickly they were like a black blur against the green of the hillside they rode up. The brightly coloured clothes of the faeries also blurred, leaving streaks of reds, green, blues and yellows in the air as they passed. Every now and then a faery would break from the main group to chase some poor scared creature, then laughing with pleasure they would join the main hunt again.

The speed they were travelling was incredible. Hunter didn't need the fact that he could not touch the minds of the Night Mares to show him they were not natural creatures. There was not an animal in all of nature, walking, flying, or swimming, that could match their speed or agility. The way they moved alone showed how steeped in magic they were. From above, the streaking black and multicoloured blur looked like some odd blight or infection speeding across the local countryside.

"They will come from there." Hunter raised a heavily muscled arm and pointed up stream.

"Good." Sara floated into the air behind him and threw her arms back. Clouds started scudding across the blue sky, darkening and looking angrier and angrier as they massed above the spot he had indicated.

Brigid stepped up beside Hunter. She placed a flaming arrow to her bow and held both loosely in one hand as she waited. "I think we will be giving the Wild Hunt a little surprise, eh?"

Donn stood in the dead centre of the bowl-shaped depression behind them, his hands held stiff down by his body, his head bowed. He stood perfectly still, oblivious to what was going on as tendrils of darkness, looking like long, black worms, began moving around him. Wrapping themselves about his ankles, they writhed and squirmed, as they seemed to draw themselves from the ground. Until it looked like Donn was poised above a dark hole and the black worms were crawling and squirming over him in an effort to drag him within. Suppressing a shiver, Hunter turned just as the Wild Hunt thundered into view.

They slid to a halt just below the four friends' position, pointing up and whispering amongst themselves as the Night Mares growled and snapped at each other in their frustration at being held back. Then seven of the hunt, half their number, peeled off from the rest, their mounts undulating up the hill towards Hunter and his friends, as the others drew out their crossbows.

Lightning struck, the air hissing in protest as the bolts flashed down. Again and again, bolts speared into the ground so hard that craters were left smoking and giving off the scent of ozone and scorched earth. The speed of the attack was such that it looked as if a fence of glowing, sizzling bars of electricity had sprung into existence before the charging riders. With screams, their mounts veered off to one side. The lightning followed them, making it impossible for the riders to make it up the hill.

The faeries who hadn't charged lifted their crossbows and set their bolts flying up the hill towards their prey. Beside Hunter, Brigid calmly raised her bow, and with a hissing sound her arrow flew to meet its on-rushing cousins. Just before they passed each other, the flaming arrow burst like a skyrocket, and small balls of fire raced out, each one striking one of the faery crossbow bolts. The bolts travelled on a short distance, burning brightly, then fell from the sky, little more than ash.

Hunter raised his muzzle to the sky and bellowed like a stag. In answer, birds leapt from the trees and bushes in which they had been gathering and swooped in on the stationary riders at the bottom of the hill. In a maelstrom of feathers and screeching they circled and dove at the faeries, distracting them and making it difficult for them to reload their crossbows. The Night Mares reared and pranced, snapping at the birds, further unsettling their riders.

Despite the attack and the heat from both Brigid's arrow and the lightning that still pelted down about them, Hunter felt a chill settle on him as a stale-smelling breeze sprang up from behind.

The still mobile members of the Hunt swept by below, the lightning still keeping them from charging up the hill. They levelled their crossbows and fired.

Again, a fire arrow rose in response. Again, the arrow exploded and fireballs streamed towards the oncoming bolts. This time, however, the pale bolts didn't even appear singed as they passed through the fire. Sara's arm swept out above Hunter, and a gust of wind swept across in front of him, flattening the grass and bushes to the ground. The Elf Shot continued to streak towards them, unaffected by the gale.

Hunter tensed himself to dive out of the way, but a terrified scream from behind him caused him to look over his shoulder just as the bolts were about to strike home. Hunter's eyes widened, Donn was no longer there, instead the whole depression that he had been standing in seemed to be lapping with darkness. It had overflowed the bowl slightly and was now swirling about Hunter's feet, sending numbing coldness up his legs.

Hunter was dimly aware of the Elf Shot striking him, a flare of burning heat where his Adder Stone touched his flesh, and then the bolts passing through him. However, he could not pull his gaze from Sara. A deathly pale arm, its chipped and broken fingernails encrusted with dirt, had thrust out of the ground and grabbed her by the ankle. She screamed again and kicked, but the arm relentlessly pulled her towards the darkness.

"Sara!" Hunter took a few steps towards her, one arm stretched in her direction.

"Hunter!" Brigid's desperate cry, made him spin on the spot. Three corpse-like hands had grabbed her and were dragging her down into the ground. He took a few running steps towards her when something grabbed his ankle in a grip of iron.

Calling out, Hunter fell. The impact jarred up his arms as he hit the ground, then pale hands erupted from the blackness about him, grabbing his arms, his legs, even the antlers on his head. Hunter strained with all the impressive strength that he could muster. He might as well have been struggling to shift a mountain. Slowly at first, but gathering in speed, he was dragged further and further into the darkness. Until, without warning, the ground seemed to give way, the hands let go, and Hunter was falling.

He struck the hard ground with a thump, and the air whooshed out of him. Bright lights danced before his eyes as he retreated into a world of pain, gasping in an effort to get some air into his lungs. Soon his vision returned, and his breathing became easier. His face and body felt numbingly cold where they touched the ground, as if the heat was being drawn from them. He pulled himself to his knees and then stood.

"Brigid, Sara, Donn?"

"We're OK," Brigid replied from behind him.

"Wherever the hell we are," said Sara.

Hunter turned to see the two girls helping each other up, both looking like their own selves again. A fine coating of white dust covered both of them and puffed up from the ground as they moved. Hunter looked down at himself, also now normal, to see that the dust also coated him.

"We're where the Wild Hunt can't follow," Donn's voice sounded odd. It was still raspy as usual, but now it had an echoing nature to it, like Donn was speaking from the other side of a tunnel, or inside a crypt. It also seemed to be much deeper and lacked... life, was the only word Hunter could come up with. Slowly, very slowly, his breath coming a bit quicker than before, Hunter looked at Donn.

Donn was exceptionally pale, only his lips had any colour, and that was an unhealthy blue tinge. His face seemed gaunter than usual, and his eyes were deeper set, almost hidden in the shadow of his brows. He still seemed to be dressed all in black, but rather than looking battered and well worn, his clothes looked old. He raised a skeletally thin hand, pale as bone, and beckoned in a wide arch.

"Welcome to one of the underworlds."

"One of?" Brigid asked, a sense of interest in her voice.

Hunter looked around, although there wasn't much to see. Except for an area a couple of metres around him and his friends, it was pitch dark. He couldn't see anything beyond the velvet curtain of darkness, although if he stared at it for any length of time, he got the disturbing feeling that something, or some things, were moving out there.

"Yes," Donn said. "There are different underworlds, each a result of what people believe."

"So which one are we in?" asked Brigid, looking around and frowning as she noticed her surroundings for the first time.

Donn's bony shoulders raised in a shrug. "I don't know them all and was pretty much going on instinct, and I was a little bit pushed for time."

As they talked, Hunter tried to call up his powers so that he could find out what was in the darkness. But there didn't seem to be any animals nearby he could commune with, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't call up cat vision, or sonar, or anything that might have helped.

"Can you use your powers?" he asked Brigid and Sara.

Brigid raised a hand and a small, guttering flame appeared. It burnt a yellowish white in colour and got no larger than Hunter's thumb. Brigid grimaced and shook her head as the flame died. "There's no fire here, just whatever that was."

"Corpse light - no heat or light. It's the only kind of flame that can exist here," answered Donn. "Sara will find it hard to call up wind here as well. There is no life here, except us of course. No air for fire or wind, no animals for you to call on Hunter. Just us and...

Hunter shivered as Donn's gaze flicked from him to Brigid and then to Sara, staring as if though deciding if they could deal with what he had to say. Hunter began to speak, but had to clear his throat before he could make a noise. "And what, Donn?"

Donn turned and stared off at something in the darkness. "Sometimes, these underworlds have guardians. If there are some here, then there will be a price for us to leave again."

Hunter's breath caught, and it felt like something had clutched hold of his stomach. "Donn, just tell us. We're here now. There is no point in not telling."

Donn shook his head. "I don't know what the price will be, but whatever it is, it won't be pleasant."

Hunter licked his lips, getting a mouthful of dust for his troubles. With a grimace, remembering what the dust was the last time they had been in a place like this, he spat trying to clear his mouth. "There's no point worrying about that until it happens, then."

"Speak for yourself," said Sara quietly beside him.

Hunter continued. "Can you get us where we need to be, Donn?"

"Yes. Now that we're here, I can sense how the above world maps to this one. We need to walk that way for about two hours." He pointed into the darkness.

"So, does time work normally here, then?" asked Brigid.

"No," Donn gave a skull-like grin. "There's no time at all, the dead don't need it. I just didn't want things to appear any weirder to you than they are now."

"As if things could get any weirder," Sara said, trying to knock the dust off her clothes.

"Right then, lead on," Hunter said to Donn. "Ah... this light...

"The light will follow you... it's a side effect of you being alive."

Hunter was not comforted by the answer, and even with the pale, weak light, it seemed to him that he was being hemmed in, that the walls and ceiling, invisible as they were, were closing in on him. He knew it would have been worse if there had been no light at all; even so, his breathing quickened, and a light sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. As they started out, the girls had moved closer to him for comfort, and now he felt Brigid's cool hand clasp his and squeeze. He smiled at her, grateful for the comforting touch.

Donn stalked along ahead of them, seemingly undeterred by the darkness, the dry air, or the constricting feeling that had fallen over Hunter as soon as he had landed in this place - it wasn't a feeling of depression exactly, it was more an absence of happiness and joy. The further they went the harder and harder it became to remember the good times. It was obviously affecting Brigid too, for she walked beside Hunter not uttering a word.

The other thing that Donn ignored, but Hunter could not, was the noises in the darkness, a skittering sound, a pattering, like a drummer rapidly striking a stone floor. At first the noise came and went, but as they moved on, it seemed that more and more of whatever was making the noise moved in the darkness just beyond Hunter's sight - first to his left, then his right, then behind him - until the noises surrounding them merged into one staccato drum roll. Donn stalked on, his eyes locked straight ahead.

At last the noise and the feeling of constriction got too much for Hunter. "Donn, what's making that sound?"

Donn stopped and in a smooth motion turned on the spot. "They are the guardians," his voice seemed to echo from all round them. "And we have reached our way out. They want their payment."

* * * *

## Chapter Twenty

## Payment Made

The sound of claws scratching on the stone floor increased, and a shadow appeared at the border of light and darkness. It carried itself on many legs like a large spider and stood about the size of a loaf of bread. It paused, not quite fully in the light, an arachnid-like shadow, gently swaying from side to side. It stilled, seemed to quiver and then charged into the light, its feet spitting up dust as it moved. It sped to Donn's feet and then stopped, circling on the spot so that it faced Hunter and the girls.

Hunter gasped and took a step back. Behind him, Sara made a strangled moan of fear. Brigid's grip tightened on his hand so that pain lanced through the already tender palm. It wasn't a spider - it was a large, corpse-pale hand, each finger ending in a black talon which caused the clicking noise as it moved. On the back of the hand, just behind the knuckles, was a head as large as a cricket ball.

As Hunter watched, the thing before him opened its jaws impossibly wide, displaying multiple rows of ragged, needle-like teeth. The head had no hair, no lashes, or eyebrows, although it did have a distinct brow ridge, which hid its eyes in deep shadow. Instead of a nose, two vertical slits marked the flat part of skin between eyes and mouth. These quivered as it made a loud sniffing noise, then a long, black tongue flicked out and across its own forehead.

Hunter's skin crawled, and he suppressed a shiver as this demonic-hand beast clambered up Donn. Donn didn't move, his gaze locked upon Hunter and the others. The demonic-hand spider paused on Donn's shoulder and then, with a noise that perversely reminded Hunter of a huge group of people walking in tap shoes, more demons skittered into view. They flowed around Donn's legs, like the sea around a rock, and closed in on Hunter, Brigid and Sara.

Before Hunter could react, the surging tide of monsters had them surrounded. He placed his arms around the girls' shoulders as the three of them crowded in as close to each other as they could get. But the demons seemed unable to close with their prey. They left a good metre clear about Hunter and the girls. The monsters skittered this way and that, snapping their teeth together and flicking their long, thin, black tongues over themselves and each other, obviously frustrated that they couldn't move any closer.

Hunter cleared his throat and tried his best to speak in a normal voice. "Donn, what do we do?"

Hunter lifted his eyes from the horrific sight about him to Donn. It appeared to him that his tall friend was talking to the demon on his shoulder, ignoring the others that moved around him. Some even clambered up his legs or body before dropping back into the throng below.

Donn looked up at Hunter. "This is Icshtar. They are all part of one... demon, I guess. Like a hive mind. It is native to this world, and... well, keeps the spirits that come here in order."

Hunter nodded as though he understood what was being said. "Fine, um, can they kinda like, pull back so we can... Hunter shrugged, not sure what it was they could do.

"No. I have got Icshtar to agree not to attack you, unless it doesn't get its payment, that is."

"Payment? What payment would that be then?" Brigid's voice sounded higher than usual, and Hunter could feel, where her side was pushed up against him, that she was shivering.

"Let's see." Donn's hollow sounding voice seemed even more ominous given their current situation. He looked at the Icshtar on his shoulder and began talking to it in a language that Hunter didn't understand. After a moment, Donn shook his head violently, and in answer the demons surged towards Hunter, Brigid and Sara who screamed and kicked at the closest demons.

Donn's voice rang out. "Hold," and a cold wind swept from him, carrying ragged patches of darkness that looked unsettlingly human-like. These wraiths sent ripples through the mass of demonic forms about Hunter, Brigid and Sara. The advance stopped, there was a moment's pause, then the Icshtar scuttled back so there was once again a clear space between them and Hunter and the girls.

Donn talked to the thing on his shoulder a little longer, his voice low, his expression stern, and then frowning he turned to the others.

"OK, I can't really control the Icshtar, though I can make things... uncomfortable for it. We have come to an agreement. They want flesh."

"Flesh?" Hunter, Brigid, and Sara all said at near enough the same time. Hunter's mouth went dry, he could hear his pulse surging loudly, and his arms and legs began to tingle.

"Normally any flesh that comes here is its to devour. Those who do, um... visit are usually dead, so the flesh of the living is a delicacy. It wants some. If it gets it then we can pass."

"How much?" Hunter managed a whisper.

"A finger."

"What!" Sara demanded.

Donn shrugged. "It wanted one of you in payment at first; I've talked it down to this."

Donn said something holding his hand out to the demon. The Icshtar on his shoulder sniffed at it loudly, and then flicked its tongue over the fingers. It reared back and shook its head, and then resting on three fingers and a thumb, it pointed in Hunter's direction.

"I offered myself," Donn said, "but it seems my flesh is like a corpse's, that I am dead. It has to be one of you, sorry."

Hunter felt both Brigid and Sara involuntarily shift away from Donn. He took a deep breath and shutting his eyes he removed his arms from around his friends. Then he took a single step forward, opened his eyes and stared directly at the Icshtar on Donn's shoulder.

"I'll pay," he said, his voice strong, if somewhat flat. "What do I do?"

The mass of demons before him moved and split, forming a clear pathway to Donn.

"Just come up and hold out your hand," said Donn.

Hunter took another step forward, before a hand grabbed his left arm.

"Hunter, you can't," Brigid's voice was a hoarse whisper.

He turned and gently pried Brigid's hand from his sleeve. "I have to," he said. "We can't fight them all, especially without our powers... and this is better than the alternative."

Trying to ignore the tears on Brigid's cheek, he gently lowered her hand. Sara stepped up beside Brigid, put her arm about the shorter girl's shoulders in comfort and offered Hunter a small smile.

Hunter turned and forced his shaking legs to carry him towards Donn. Without looking, he knew that the demons were closing up behind him, cutting him off from Brigid and Sara. He reached Donn, and then breathing raggedly held out his left hand. Donn closed Hunter's hand in his cold grip and then straightened the little finger.

"Sorry, mate." Donn's voice carried no hint of emotion.

The Icshtar said something in a language Hunter did not understand, its voice oddly high-pitched and fluting.

"Do not anger me further!" Donn's voice echoed loudly, thunder sounded, and the light about them dimmed significantly. "Take what is offered."

There was a moment where nothing happened, where Hunter thought that this had all been some kind of sick joke of Donn's. Then the demon skittered down Donn's arm so fast that Hunter barely had time to shut his eyes and grit his teeth. He felt a sharp tug at the base of his little finger, there was a contented sigh and rustling all about him, then the pattering sound of liquid hitting the floor and Brigid screaming his name.

He opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn't. Blood was pouring from a gaping wound where his little finger had been. As he saw the wound, pain rippled through his hand, oddly centred in the finger he no longer had. He registered that there was no sign of the demons, and then Brigid was there, wrapping the scarf she had worn about her waist around the wound like a bandage.

This caused the pain to flare again, and as Hunter's vision swam, he allowed himself to be guided into a sitting position. It took him a moment to collect himself, his head lowered, taking deep breaths. Then he looked up at his three friends gathered about him.

"That could have been worse." He tried to summon a smile.

"Idiot!" Brigid thumped him lightly on his right arm, tears pooling in her eyes.'... ®

"Now you're almost as pale as Donn," Sara added, trying to smile.

Donn stared down at Hunter. "If I had known the payment, I would never have opened that gateway."

Hunter shook his head. "You did the right thing. It will give us a chance now. Only... do you think we can get out of here soon. Your voice is starting to creep me out."

Donn gave a rictal grin before answering. "We can leave as soon as you're ready."

With the help of both Sara and Brigid, which he was quietly glad of as his limbs were still shaking badly, Hunter stood. "OK then... let's get out of here."

"Consider it done." Donn cut a hand down in front of him like a karate chop. His hand left a line of blinding light behind it as it cut through the air. To Hunter it looked as if Donn had ripped the air in front of him. Indeed, just as if it were a rip that need widening, Donn reached out both hands, grabbed hold of the edges and pulled in different directions. Soon there was a person-sized area of bright light before him.

"Right," he said. "Through here and we should appear where we left Whistler."

"When we go through," said Hunter, trying to ignore the pain in his hand, "we'll need to go through the gateway fast. It won't take long for the Harper to find us."

The others nodded in agreement, and then one by one, they entered the portal of light.

To Hunter, crossing through the gateway gave him a similar feeling to when a high-speed elevator began to rise - his stomach lurched, feeling like it stopped somewhere near his shoes, and then with an another uncomfortable lurch, seemed to rebound back into position, like it had been connected by a bungee.

He stepped out onto grass, just to one side of the circle of brown fungi that Whistler had led them to. Trying to ignore both the pain in his hand and the red stain of blood blossoming on Brigid's scarf wrapped about it, Hunter looked at the others.

Brigid was looking at him with concern etched in her green eyes. Sara still stood close to the redhead, her arm draped loosely over the smaller girl's shoulder. Donn looked like his old, pale self - less ominous, less... dead.

"Hunter, I '... ì" This time Donn's voice cracked with emotion.

Hunter smiled at Donn. "It doesn't matter, Donn. It's not your fault. It's just something that needed to be done. Without you, things would be a lot worse. Right, let's go."

"We don't want to be getting separated in the faery gate. Maybe we should hold hands?" Brigid said.

Hunter nodded his agreement. Donn took Hunter's right hand, offering his other hand to Sara. Brigid walked to Hunter, who without thinking held out his left hand. Brigid looked at the bloodied scarf and then very gently reached out and grasped his wrist. Hunter tried to hide the pain that lanced through his tingling hand, even at Brigid's gentle touch.

"Right, let's do this." He led the group three times around the mushroom circle and then said firmly, "Regent's Hall."

The world about them seemed to blur, and it felt to Hunter as if he stumbled. He let go of Donn's hand as he took a stuttering step forward, fighting for balance. When he looked up, they were standing on the borders of a beech forest. A path wound its way before them, cutting into the shadowed depths of the trees.

The path that led to Regent's Court, and their way home.

* * * *

## Chapter Twenty-One

## Regent's Court

##

Against Hunter's wishes they had stopped just inside the forest so that Brigid could do a better job of strapping his hand. He looked away from the wound quickly as Brigid gently uncovered it, not liking the look of the ragged stump slowly oozing blood. Brigid asked Donn to pinch the sides of the wound together, before she rebound it tightly, grunting with the effort. Hunter ground his teeth together so as not to scream out as Donn squeezed his hand. His vision danced and swirled, and Hunter thought that he might faint, but as Brigid finished her work, the pain became bearable. It was the itch where his finger used to be that was now driving him crazy.

"It needs stitches," Brigid said as she fixed Hunter's hand into a makeshift sling made from the remains of her scarf. She gently adjusted it so that Hunter's hand rested up near his right shoulder. "This will help stop the bleeding but...

"Just another reason to get to the Dagda, and home, as soon as we can." Hunter grinned at Brigid, but as he stood a wave of dizziness washed over him. She just looked at him with a worried expression firmly in place.

"You look as pale as Donn did down in that place," repeated Sara as they began walking down the path.

"Yeah, but he doesn't look near as good as I did," said Donn. The tall boy walked next to Hunter, watching him intently, obviously ready to spring to Hunter's aid if he should stumble.

Hunter, other than the itch, a bit of pain and feeling a little light-headed, felt fine. He was enjoying being able to hear animals again and hadn't realised just how much he had missed them during their trip 'down there'. Thinking back, it had seemed almost like he had lost a sense. Now though, walking in the green dimness of the forest, with the birds chattering about him, and the mammals of the forest - the squirrels, rabbits, deer and pigs - making themselves known to him, Hunter felt content. He knew that it was a calm before the storm, but for the moment he enjoyed it.

His hearing must have grown more acute as he listened to the animals, for he realised he could plainly hear the girls murmuring together a few metres behind him and Donn.

"Aye," Brigid said so quietly it was almost a whisper. "He has lost a bit of blood. But, as long as he isn't being too active now, that should be OK."

"There's a 'but' there, isn't there?" Sara returned, every bit as quietly.

"It looks to be infected, even this quickly. It's blackening and... well, he needs to be seeing a doctor."

"I can hear you," Hunter called over his shoulder. Despite their words he grinned; it was nice to know there were people who cared for you.

"Hunter, I... that is, you see, Sara was asking after you, and... and I was just...

Hunter interrupted Brigid mid-babble. "It's OK. Once we get home we can get it looked at. We're almost there now, see." He used his good hand to point to where the track they were following forked. "Whistler said to take all the left turns, and we'd be there."

They walked down the dirt track, careful of the lumps and uneven surfaces caused by the tree roots. After two more left turns Donn cleared his throat and said what Hunter had been thinking. "My sense of direction isn't that great, but aren't we now heading back towards the path we started on?"

But the path they were now following wound its way through the huge trunks of moss-encrusted trees that looked much older than the trees they had seen when they first entered the forest. They walked on until Hunter was sure they should long ago have come across the original path. He was about to say something when a voice sounded from their right.

"Welcome and well-met again, travellers."

Hunter spun just in time to see a tree shivering and forming itself into a familiar looking shape. His heart began to beat faster, and his lower stomach tightened as the Dryad stepped from the trees. Her brown limbs entwined in enticing patterns as she danced towards them, and her sheer, short dress, formed to the shape of her body with the speed she moved. Sara sighed dramatically as the faery spun to a stop before them.

"Are you the same Dryad we saw some days back?" asked Brigid.

"Yes, of course." The Dryad frowned, her nose wrinkling in what Hunter thought was the cutest way.

"But how did you get here?" asked Sara. "I mean, don't you need to be near your trees or something."

"Silly. Don't you know that all forests are connected as one? I wonder about mortals sometimes."

"Hang on," said Brigid. "Do you mean that if we had let you guide us you could have led us here directly? We wouldn't have had to travel through the gateway?"

"Of course." The Dryad's frown increased. "Although the Dagda would have needed to give his blessing."

"The Dagda, you could have taken us to him all along?" Sara said, hands now on her hips.

"Is the Dagda close?" asked Brigid.

The Dryad waved behind her down the path. "He is close." Hunter's breath caught as he realised that the Dryad was staring at him. "Why is one of your males leaking sap?"

"It's nothing," Hunter said, trying to brush away the attention on his throbbing wound.

"He hurt himself on the journey here," Brigid replied.

"You do not heal him?"

"Er... we don't have that power," said Brigid, looking from the Dryad to Hunter and back. "Do you?"

"Maybe... show me this wound." The Dryad stepped close as Brigid carefully undid the sling and began to unbind the hand. Hunter sniffed deeply, clearly smelling the earthy scent of the forest emanating from the faery.

When his hand was free the Dryad reached forth and caught it. The skin of her small hand was dry and rough, feeling a little like the bark it resembled. The faery bent her head close to the wound so that Hunter could feel her breath gently brushing against it, then stood and turned back to Brigid.

"Your male's limb has blight as well as the damage that has been caused. It is a blight that will spread to the rest of him if it is not stopped now. I can heal both wound and blight." She smiled prettily, showing green teeth that seemed to match her look perfectly. "I can heal and accept payment at the same time."

"Payment? What would that be?" Brigid said, a hint of mistrust in her voice.

"Oh, rest assured that your male will still be yours when I am done. The payment is but small."

Hunter felt left out of this whole conversation, despite the fact that it was him they were discussing.

Brigid nodded. "OK, please heal him. And our thanks for it."

The Dryad locked eyes with Hunter, who immediately froze. Slowly, step by slow, exaggerated step, the Dryad walked towards him. Hunter swallowed loudly, ignoring Sara who stood to one side rolling her eyes, and clearly muttering, "Oh, please!"

Reaching Hunter, the Dryad stood on tiptoes, cupped either side of his face with her rough-feeling hands and pulled him unresisting down into a kiss. A tingling rush seemed to sweep through Hunter's body as the faery's lips touched his.

As they kissed, Hunter became aware of the Dryad's body pushed against his, of the contact between them. He also became more aware of the forest about them, of all the plants from the smallest weed to the mightiest tree, all stretching towards the life-giving sunlight.

Hunter didn't know how long he stood there with the Dryad, but when she pulled away the tingling feeling swept through his body, down his arm and gathered in his injured hand. As her touch finally trailed away from his cheek, the tingling in his hand subsided. The first thing Hunter noticed was Brigid staring at him. His face heated, and he dropped his gaze and ended up looking directly at where the wound had been.

It had closed, leaving an angry red scar, but the wound was no longer bleeding and there was no pain. He looked up again, knowing that his face was still very red and stammered his thanks to the Dryad.

"'Tis all right," the Dryad said. She was now dancing in slow circles, her dress once again at ankle length and of a solid green colour that matched the foliage of the forest.

"Um, I'm hurt too," said Donn. This caused the Dryad to laugh, a noise similar to a breeze rustling through the tree tops. There was also a loud smack. "Ouch, at least I am now."

"You'll hurt even more if you keep that up," said Sara.

Brigid walked the few steps to Hunter's side; oddly he found that he couldn't look at her until she gently grabbed his hand and looked at it. "It looks to be fine now," she said turning to the Dryad. "Thank you. What is the payment?"

"Oh, I have already taken part of that. Some of your male's energy, just a little, not enough to hurt. Like a small seedling, males his size need to be nurtured, so I took a little, but he will quickly regenerate what he has lost. Though he still owes the forest, and the debt will be called one day. I am glad you managed to dodge the Wild Hunt."

"Well, I don't know if dodge is the right word," replied Brigid.

"Yeah, if we're right they'll be pretty close behind us," said Sara.

Hunter had meant to ask about his debt to the forest, what it entailed, what he would be asked to do, but the Dryad's reaction to Brigid's and Sara's words never gave him a chance.

The Dryad stopped her slow dancing and stared back behind them. "The Wild Hunt is following." Suddenly, she looked like a scared little girl. "Quick, do not dally here then. You must flee."

Taking heed of her own words the Dryad turned and ran, disappearing back into the trees. She only took a few steps into the dimness before Hunter could no longer see her. Once again Hunter felt an odd sense of loss as the Dryad faded from view.

He shook his head as he absently flexed the remaining fingers of his left hand. "She's right, we have to move."

Together they set off down the path. The trees bordering and overhanging it now seemed to be even older than earlier. They were covered in moss, so that it looked like some had a green fur covering their trunks. They were also much bigger and leant over the path, casting it into shadows. Oddly, it felt to Hunter as if they were watching, not with any bad intent, only interest. The colour of the trees and other plants also seemed much richer, more vivid, than when they first entered the forest. The brown of bark and branches was earthier and richer in tone, the green more emerald and seeming to glow in the light filtering through from above.

They had only walked on a little further when they heard the music up ahead being played upon tin whistles, harps and drums. As always, Hunter found the faery music catchy, and a strange urge to dance like the Dryad had been earlier seemed to settle over him. He fought the urge down, but let the music draw him to the clearing ahead.

The large area clear of any underbrush could only be Regent's Court. The clearing was roughly rectangular, with walls made from the thick trunks of some of the oldest trees that Hunter had ever seen. Their trunks were so thick and so close together that Hunter doubted he would be able to squeeze between them. They soared to an enormous height, leaning over as they rose, so that they made a huge, sweeping arch, the branches and leaves forming a rustling, emerald ceiling.

Hunter guessed you could fit two football fields, end on end, in the space created. There seemed to be tents of every colour imaginable pitched in the furthest section from them, pitched so close to each other that their guy ropes appeared tangled together in a complicated knot.

All the other free space was taken up with faeries of all shapes and sizes dancing to the intoxicating music. They surged and pulsated across the open space between the ancient trees, threading their way around a high-backed wooden throne entwined with ivy.

The Dagda sat upon the large chair, one arm leaning on an armrest, propping up his chin with a long-fingered hand. His dark eyes were locked upon Hunter and his friends, his face grim as he stared at them. Abruptly, he stood and held up his arms, the wide sleeves of his brown robe slipping slightly down his slender arms. Immediately, the music ceased and the faery all turned to face the Dagda.

"Our friends from the past are here." The Dagda's deep, melodic voice seemed to resonate within Hunter's chest. "The Dark Court will not be far behind. We must prepare for the final battle."

A soft moan escaped from the mass of faeries, like a soft wind whistling through a forest, but they all started moving on tasks obviously distributed to them earlier .

"He knew we were coming," said Donn.

Before Hunter could say anything in reply, the Dagda beckoned with one hand.

"Come," he said. "And welcome to our last stand."

* * * *

## Chapter Twenty-Two

## The Last Stand

"Why can it never be 'Welcome, and why don't we sit down for a drink'?" Donn pushed past Hunter and led the others down the hard-packed mud floor of the Regent's Court.

Hunter thought that the Dagda looked paler then the last time he had seen the faery lord. He also appeared much thinner. His elegant brown robes, with the green ivy entwined up the sleeves, appeared to hang off his body. As they neared the Dagda though, Hunter changed his mind. The faery lord wasn't thin, as much as sunken in his appearance, as if something had reduced him from inside, sucking his power out of him, leaving him appearing like a deflated balloon.

The faery smiled as they got near. "It appears that my gamble may pay off after all, though I confess I had given up hope." He indicated that they should follow him as he headed towards the tents.

"What do you mean 'gamble'?" Hunter asked, as they followed the Dagda into the maze of guy ropes.

"I doubt that I have time to tell you all of the tale," the Dagda replied, stepping over a rope and turning so they now walked beside a large, green tent with a golden sunburst on its side. "Suffice it to say that when you disappeared and Tethra instigated his plans, I had your last movements traced. When it was found that you had visited Emmeline I guessed what must have happened."

"Why didn't she just tell you, or whoever you sent after us?" Sara demanded.

The Dagda turned into another lane of tents, their colours competing and clashing with each other, and led them towards another large, green tent pitched in front of a cliff face. Hunter looked about in confusion; there hadn't been any cliff near the tents, had there?

"I am afraid that Emmeline was... what's the best way of saying this...

"Dead... Brigid offered, looking at the Dagda with her eyes wide.

"No, death is not a gift that we of the fey can partake in. Is that not so, Kin of Ankou?"

"How would I '... ì" Donn's forehead creased, and he sighed. "No, they don't die. They just kinda go into a nothingness, a blackness... he shrugged, not able to find the right words.

"Limbo," the Dagda offered. "A state of nothingness, no feeling, no thought, no interaction of any kind."

"Sounds awful," said Brigid.

Donn grinned coldly. "Oh, it's not forever. They come back again, most of them anyway. That's why they're so scared of Death, scared of me."

"Death fascinates, as well as scares me and many of my brethren. It is not the nothingness of Limbo, yet it is forever. Those who die do not return, yet none know where it is they go.'... ¶Even the underworlds that you, Donn, know of and have access to are only representations of what mortals believe. They are not the truth. So, what is? It is not a risk many of our number will take - to give up on continual life without aging, to enter the unknown."

"Hang on," said Hunter. "When do faeries come out of Limbo?"

"When the game has ended and before it restarts," replied the Dagda.

"Game?" Brigid ran a hand through her red hair. "You mean this war between you and Tethra?"

"Yes, Brigid," the Dagda said matter-of-factly.

"And when it finishes, the whole war, and everything, just starts again?" asked Sara, glowering at the faery.

The Dagda managed to look confused by the question. "Of course. Each game is different, the outcome, the way it is won, but yes, it starts again. What else is there?"

"So, you mean that you have involved us in something in which we could die, while the worst that happens to you is that you have a bit of a snooze in this Limbo place?" Hunter stopped outside the entrance to the large tent.

"This upsets you?" the Dagda asked, scratching his right temple with one finger.

Before anyone could answer a horn sounded. It was still distant, but nowhere near distant enough for Hunter's liking. The Wild Hunt had found them.

The Dagda stared back the way they had come, as if he could see through all the canvas and trees that blocked his line of sight. "Come," he said. "Now is not the time to discuss this. The Hunt will be here soon." He held up the flap of the tent , motioning them inside. "Let me continue. When I realised you had gone into the future, I guessed you might come to me eventually. So, despite my losses I have harboured enough power to send you back, though it will not be easy."

One by one they entered the tent, Hunter last, anger bubbling through him, anger at being used like an expendable tool, a pawn, something to be sacrificed in someone else's game. It turned out that the tent was pitched over the entrance to a cave which was lit by floating balls of a bright white light. A gateway formed by two standing stones and a lintel dominated the centre of the floor space. And standing beside this were two faeries that Hunter immediately recognised. One was Whistler, humming under his breath as he polished a piece of stone. The other was the Keeper in his true form, which resembled a pointed-nosed, long-limbed monkey, with hair sticking out in all directions.

Hunter looked around expecting to see the two faery dogs that accompanied the Keeper everywhere. "Where are Kris and Kera?"

"Well, lad, we lost'... ¶them a long while back now," the Keeper answered, giving Hunter and the others a sharp-toothed grin as a welcome. The anger seemed to melt inside Hunter; he had liked the dogs and even though he now knew that they weren't really dead he could still hear the loss in the Keeper's voice.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Hunter said. "They were good, er... dogs."

"Aye, lad. That they were, and I do miss them. I see you've been learning some manners, boy," the Keeper said, issuing one of his honking laughs. "Anyway, now you lot are here, we can be sending you back, and you can stop all this from happening."

"Which," said the Dagda, "about sums up my gamble."

Horns sounded again, and this time Hunter could make out the pound of hooves and the screaming cry of the Night Mares. Mingled in with the sound of the Wild Hunt were cries of alarm from those outside; some musical horns, their notes bittersweet, sounded from the camp itself, and then the sound of combat, yells, screams and the sound of weapons clashing filtered into the tent.

"How can we stop this?" asked Sara. "You can't change things that have already happened."

"Time can be a confusing concept, Sara. That mirror that transported you did so into a possible future. What you see about you, what you have experienced, is not the future, rather it is one of many possible futures."

"But... Brigid waved one hand around as she tried to put her thoughts into words. "This future we are in is your present. How will sending us back help you?"

"If you are sucessful when you return to your proper time, then this future will not exist. These events will only be possibilities that never happened."

"OK, then," said Donn. "Why don't you just send us back to the time this Tethra guy stole your harp, and then he'll be easier to stop."

"That event has happened in your timeline and cannot be changed. The future is mutable and changes depending on events and actions of both mortals and faeries. History is its opposite, as if written in stone - events that have happened in your own timeline cannot be altered. Anyway, I do not even know if I can sucessfully send you back to your own time, let alone another time entirely."

The Dagda moved towards the gateway as he spoke. An explosion sounded, and the canvas wall of the shelter billowed inward; dust and a smell like fireworks filtered into the cave. "I do not have the leisure to discuss time paradox with you...

"You do not have time for anything," Tethra swept in through the door in the canvas. He was surrounded by half a dozen of his Fomorian, their tooth-filled mouths split into grins as they hopped in and blocked off any exit that way. Tethra dropped what Hunter had thought was a rag from his taloned hand; as it hit the ground with a dull thud, Hunter realised it was the body of a leprechaun, its green clothing now torn and stained red. "Except maybe defeat."

"Keep him busy for a short while. The Keeper and I need but a few moments to open the gateway. I will also do what I can to protect you from Tethra's magic." The Dagda sounded calm as he spoke and without waiting turned back to the standing stones.

"Keep him busy?" Donn sounded incredulous, but as he spoke his voice began to take on a dead, echoing quality. Hunter risked a look and saw the shadows deepening around his friend as Donn strode forward.

"Aye, that's what the faery said," Brigid threw her arm out wide, and a fan of fire spread from her, sweeping over the area where the Formorian stood. Using the flames as cover Hunter darted forward - images of a cheetah running flitted through his mind as he followed up Brigid's fire.

As the flames cleared, Hunter could see Tethra and the Formorian ahead of him all grinning as the now heated shield of magic that Tethra had raised against the flames flickered and disappeared. They were waiting for him, but he was moving at such a speed that there was no way he could stop.

He didn't try.

Like a hunting lion, he pounced towards the Formorian standing on the outside of their advancing line. He was aware of another wall of fire springing up on his left, protecting him from attack from that side. Despite the intense heat of the flames he also felt the temperature in the room drop, and he heard an ominous peal of thunder from outside.

The Formorian before Hunter swung the axe it carried, the blade whistling as it cleaved through the air. With the agility gifted to him by his powers, Hunter twisted out of the way, dipping his shoulder at the last moment so that the blade hurtled safely past him. Then, without having lost any speed, he ploughed shoulder first into the midsection of his target. It was like tackling a tree. Hunter bounced off and rolled clear. The Formorian he had hit took a few shuffling hops back, struggling for balance. As Hunter tried to scramble back to his feet, he knew that he was going to be too slow, that the faery would strike while he was still on the ground. But then Donn was by his side, striking out at the faery.

He didn't physically strike it, rather he pointed with one hand, and dark shadows seemed to stream from him, surrounding the Formorian. The Fomorian's eyes widened, and it dropped its axe and tried to ward off the darkness, waving its hands at it as though it could knock it to one side. The patches of darkness seemed to momentarily take on the form of demonic bats, complete with fanged teeth and glowing eyes, before they coalesced into a blanket of darkness about the faery, who now stood perfectly still - petrified, a statue in a pose of horror.

The other Formorian charged towards both Donn and Hunter as thunder again sounded outside, so close that Hunter could feel it rumbling in his chest.

Two faeries, their faces contorted by fear, charged towards Donn who turned slowly to face them. A tongue of fire, as if shot by a flame-thrower, streamed past Donn striking the two advancing faeries. A glowing shield materialised before them, but even so the flames forced the faeries to stagger back.

Hunter faced the single Formorian still hopping towards him. The faery raised its axe to one side, about to send it on a glittering arc that would part Hunter's head from his body. Hunter watched the coming blow carefully and at the last moment he jumped. With the spring of a gazelle, Hunter leapt from a standing start, sailed over his attacker's head and flipping onto his hands he kicked out behind him with the force of a bucking donkey. The blow sent the Formorian toppling to the ground, his axe skidding away into the cavern.

Hunter managed to get to his feet again but did not have time to dodge the next attack, as a Formorian leapt the distance between them and struck him, foot first, in the stomach. Breath exploded from Hunter's lungs as he was thrown backwards. He landed, gasping for breath, as the bellowing Formorian leapt again.

A huge gust of wind ripped clear the last of the canvas and propelled it across the room. It struck the Formorian in mid-leap and wrapped around him so that he looked like an Egyptian mummy. The wind then threw the faery around like he was made of paper, picked him up and, reversing direction, dragged him from the cave.

Hunter stood and took stock of their current situation. The Formorian he had kicked was just levering itself upright on to its one foot. The one coated in the shadows Donn had summoned still stood motionless to one side. Tethra and three of his minions were being bathed in a continual stream of flame, the shield that protected them glowing red. Including the shrouded Formorian now flying out of sight, that was all their enemies accounted for.

Donn was standing where Hunter had last seen him, and although appearing to be moving in slow motion, he seemed unhurt. Brigid, her features bathed in the red glow of her flames, stood with one arm stretched out towards the cave mouth. Sara was close by her, with her hair blowing about as she stood with her eyes closed.

Hunter smiled, it looked as if they would easily buy the time they needed.

"Enough!" Tethra's voice echoed off the stone walls.

The faery lord raised his hand and brought it down in a swift motion. The shadows melted from the Formorian and flew back to Donn, hitting him with an audible slap that sent him staggering a few steps backwards. The wind died suddenly, with the accompanying if somewhat distant thump of a flying faery falling to ground. And with a hiss the fire died.

"This tires me. It is time to end it." Tethra was looking past Hunter back at where the Dagda worked.

Hunter's smile disappeared... maybe this wasn't going to be easy after all.

* * * *

## Chapter Twenty-Three

## A Sacrifice

##

"You must hold him back for just a little longer, the gate is almost open. He must touch me to win." The Dagda's voice sounded strained as though he were speaking while lifting a heavy weight.

Hunter took a look over his shoulder - the Dagda and the Keeper seemed to be standing, leaning against the gate, their palms flat against its surface. Giving his friends a grim smile, Hunter turned back towards Tethra and his advancing minions. There was a sense of power emanating from the demonic looking faery lord as he advaned and a manic grin on his face.

Unbidden, one of Hunter's first conversations with the Dagda came into his mind. The Dagda had said that although he had the power to do anything, he could not use it against the Dark Court as there were faeries there with equal power. Use of such power could spark a retaliation that could escalate to a point where the very world itself was in danger. Well, that balance had now disappeared. The Dagda's power was severely weakened, and Tethra now had free rein to do as he pleased.

A deep rumble of thunder sounded, causing Hunter to jump. In a blinding flash a bolt of lightning crashed through the cave entrance, heading directly towards the advancing faeries. At the last moment it diverted, as if deflecting off some hidden surface, and crashed to the ground in a shower of rubble. Tethra and his henchmen did not even pause as they walked closer and closer.

A sheet of fire leapt up before them, its intense heat forcing Hunter to shield his face with one hand. He could just make out the wavering images of the faeries through the heat shimmer and brightness of the inferno. Then the sheet of flame seemed to waver and split down the middle like a curtain revealing the Formorian and their master continuing forward undaunted.

Hunter tried to tap into the extra power of his glamour form, tried to take on his stag-headed persona. For a moment his body tingled, as if about to change, then stopped. Something was preventing him from taking on his faery form. It was like a curtain had been drawn between it and'... ¶Hunter; he could sense the other form there but could not touch it, could not change into it. Hunter looked at Tethra, who smiled and wagged a single finger at him.

"No," Tethra's voice carried easily across the rapidly closing distance between them. "I don't believe that I will allow that change again."

Tethra's smile deepened, and the finger waggle turned into a single wave of his hand, fingers spread wide.

A sense of helplessness seemed to wash over Hunter. What was the point? Why didn't he just give up? There was no way he was going to win this anyway. His head dropped, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. An image of a hare flickered through his mind, its ears up and twtiching, then he heard it, faint harp music. Bardon Hearpere! Hunter's father's magic was being used to sap the last of Hunter's will to fight.

Rage boiled up in within Hunter, burning away the lethargy. He wasn't going to lose now, not after all he and his friends had been through. He was not going to let himself be defeated by his tricked and trapped father. Lifting his head up he howled like a wolf, the call echoing about the cave. Courage seemed to rush through him. He could tell by the gasps behind him that he had also broken the others fom the spell. Swiftly his cry changed from a howl to a high-pitched whistle. The answer came immediatley.

~We come, lord of beasts~

"Hit them with eveything!" Hunter yelled and darted forward, aware that Donn was by his side. As they charged forward birds began streaming in the cave, a dark and undulating wave crashing towards the faeries.

Hunter was fast, but Donn still beat him to the enemy. He seemed to glide past Hunter, the shadows gathering about him like a long cape.

"I've been nice up until now," Donn yelled, his voice seeming to be many layered, echoing from different directions at once. "That stops now."

He reached out a now bone-pale hand and touched a Formorian just as it started to swing its axe at him. The faery simply crumpled to the ground, eyes wide and staring.

Like a pouncing cat Hunter leapt past Donn and with all the strength he could summon, hit another faery, sending it flying away from him. A short burst of wind blasted past Hunter and picking up the falling Formorian before it hit the ground, sent it flying towards the mouth of the cave.

Screaching and screaming, birds of all shapes and sizes began diving about the other Formorian as Hunter landed on his feet and turned to see another faery fall as Donn touched it.

"You are dangerous. I should have dealt with you when I had the chance." Tethra seemed to appear before Donn through a cloud of birds. "I don't make the same mistake twice." He raised his long-fingered hand and struck out at Donn, driving his palm towards him.

Just before he struck, a ball of flame appeared between them, forcing Tethra to withdraw his hand quickly. Even though he couldn't get a clean strike, Donn still cartwheeled back towards the gateway.

"Donn!" Sara yelled. Wind roared and lightning crashed outside the cave as if in answer to her cry. A single bolt sped through the entrance, but Tethra gestured as if swatting flies, and the bolt diverted again crashing into the wall. Tethra continued his advance.

The birds, swooping and diving at Hunter's enemies, did not seem to be affecting Tethra at all, though they were slowing the Formorian. If Hunter's feathered allies came too close to Tethra, they simply fell from the sky about him and lay unmoving. Still they came on, and it was as if a rain of birds was falling about the tall faery lord.

Hunter surged forward again, leopard-like, as he leapt at Tethra, allowing the strength of a gorilla to sweep through him as the distance between them closed.

Time seemed to slow for Hunter. He was aware of the fire that sprang to life around Tethra and died instantly - registering as just a glow to his vision. Another bolt of lightning streamed into the cave, only this time to crash upwards, causing a mini rock fall.

Although Hunter noticed these things, things that lasted little more than a fleeting moment, he did not even see Tethra move. One moment Hunter was flying towards the faery, the next he was gasping for air, dangling from Tethra's grip, the faery's hand firmly about his throat.

"Hmmmm," Tethra sounded almost bored as he looked at Hunter. "I understand the Dagda's plan now. I see where, or should I say when, you have come from. You do realise," Tethra said, dragging Hunter closer so that he hung just inches from the faery's face, "if I kill you, then I have won. For if you do not return, then how can you stop me?"

Hunter felt the grip on his throat change and gasped in a lung full of air.

"The next attack directed against me, though it is pointless, will cause me to snap this mortal's puny neck."

Hunter grunted in pain as Tethra took a few steps forward. "Ah, I see the gate is open. Well done, my cousin. It is a shame that if anyone so much as moves towards it this one will cease to live." Tethra shook Hunter to make his point, sending pain lancing through his neck and right shoulder.

"Let him go!" Sara's voice rang out.

"Aye," Brigid took a step forward and stood with her legs slightly apart, fists clenched at her side. "You'd best not be hurting him."

"Or what?" Although Hunter could not see Tethra, he knew he was snearing.

"Or," a multi-layered voice sounded, deep and resonant, whispering and scraping, "I will ensure that you die." Donn stood up behind Brigid, looking like a disembodied black form as he rose up behind the short girl.

"Although I should have dealt with you earlier, boy, I now have so much power that even your master could not stop me." Tethra paused, his head cocked to one side. "And now that the fight is over outside, I can turn my full power on you."

Harp music swept into the cavern, and before Hunter's blurring vision Donn seemed to shrink in size, the darkness falling from him like shed skin until only the tall, thin youth stood before him, fists clenched. To one side of Donn, Sara's hair that had been blowing around, tossed by an unseen wind, settled about her in a tangled mess.

"Oh, dear," said Tethra. "It seems all of your powers are now blocked. It is a shame."

"Just go," Hunter croaked, forcing his voice through his constricted throat. "You can stop him without me."

"No, I'll not be going without you, Hunter," Brigid said, still not moving from where she stood.

"Us either," Sara took a step closer to Donn, including him in her statement.

Hunter stared into Brigid's tear-filled eyes, trying to will her to leave, but he could tell by her clenched jaw and crossed arms that she would not be going anywhere.

"How wonderful." Hunter could feel Tethra shift behind him as the faery lord turned slightly so that he was facing the Dagda. "Well, cousin mine, I guess this means I have won. Will you come to me and accept defeat, or would you have me destroy all who remain here with you first?"

"There is no need for that." The Dagda stepped away from the active gateway. He stood erect, looking proud despite his impending defeat. "This game is yours."

The Dagda took one step closer, two, three '... ¶.

"Noooo!" A small shape hurtled out of the shadows and leapt at Tethra's arm. Tethra tried to recoil out of the way but was too slow. He bellowed in pain, and Hunter could feel the grip on his neck loosen just slightly.

Summoning all the strength he could muster Hunter threw himself forward, broke free from the grasp and fell to the floor. Rolling onto his back, he could plainly see Whistler hanging from Tethra's arm, his small teeth embedded deep, pumping the paralysing venom into the wound. As he watched, Tethra reached over with his free arm and plucked the struggling Brownie clear.

A hand fastened on to Hunter's shoulder and dragged him to his feet.

"Quick, the gateway. Use what time Whistler has bought you."

Hunter wondered for a moment what the Dagda had meant, then a sickening crack and the sound of a small body hitting the floor answered the question for him. Brigid screamed, hands cupped over her nose and mouth muffling the noise, as Sara buried her face in Donn's shoulder.

The Dagda gave Hunter a push of immense strength, sending him hurtling towards his friends. He careered into them, and in a knot of struggling limbs, the four tumbled through the gateway.

Tethra's bellow of rage was abruptly cut off as they tumbled onto the cavern floor and rolled away from the bronze mirror.

* * * *

## Chapter Twenty-Four

## Return

In a tangle of arms and legs the four friends fell into a heap on the stone floor. Their momentum had barely stopped when a shadow fell over them.

Hunter wasn't sure when it had happened, but his powers had returned to him, although they felt oddly muted somehow, as if sensed through a barrier. Summoning the image of an agile monkey to his mind, Hunter rolled clear of the others and in one smooth motion stood, coming face to green face with Emmeline.

The hag smiled, exposing her sharp teeth. Hunter stood so close to her, that he could feel her breath on his face, and smell its scent - a not unpleasant smell that reminded him of clean spring air, freshly cut grass and the scent of blooming flowers.

"You have returned. Good, I was beginning to wonder."

Hunter, aware of the others clambering to their feet behind him, looked around the cave that was lit by the flickering flames of Emmeline's fire. His eyes hunting for the small snake-like Attorcroppe that had attacked them, that had triggered his trip into the future, but there were none to be seen anywhere. A disturbing thought occurred to Hunter. "How long were we gone for?"

Emmeline turned from him and went over to a large pot hanging over the flames. She opened the lid and stirred the contents with a large wooden spoon before answering. "You have been gone three hours. No more than that."

"That's not right." Sara stomped up beside Hunter. "We spent nights trying to get back. Are you trying to trick us or something?"

Emmeline shrugged. "Girl, I have no reason to trick you. You can believe me or not, it means nothing to me."

Brigid walked up and put a hand on Sara's arm, stopping the tirade that she had been about to launch. "Fair enough. What of the faeries that attacked us here?"

Emmeline looked up from her pot. "The Attorcroppe lost interest when you touched the mirror. It is my belief that they were sent to stop you seeing what the mirror had to show. Once the mirror had claimed you, there was no point in them fighting on. Attorcroppe are brave enough, but fighting front on is not really their way."

Hunter's arms and legs had begun to shiver, and as Emmeline talked the shaking became worse and worse. She looked at him and smiled again, then her gaze flicked from Brigid, to Sara, to Donn. Hunter also looked at his friends and noted that they too were shivering.

"It is a reaction that mortals have after the mirror has claimed them. I have prepared something to help. Come, sit."

She motioned them around the fire. By the time they were all seated their teeth were chattering so loudly that it sounded like they were playing castanets.

"Is it shock?" Brigid said, rubbing at her arms.

"Of a type," Emmeline replied, as she spooned some kind of liquid into a plain pottery mug. "This will help."

She passed the mug to Donn, who took it gingerly. He stared at it, his eyes narrowed, and sniffed at the rising steam. He wrinkled his nose and looked back up at the hag. "It's got green stuff in it. Why is everything that is supposed to be good for you green?"

"Green is a very nice colour, or at least I think so." Emmeline swept her dark hair away from her face so that her green skin was plainly in view. She was smiling broadly. "As for what is in the drink, it is but herbs: lemon balm, lavender, a little peppermint... Donn took a drink while the others watched on. "... and a few other things that I don't think I will tell you about."

With a splutter, Donn spat out his mouthful, which hissed as it hit the fire. Emmeline laughed a cackle that echoed around the cave. Soon Sara, Brigid and Hunter had joined in.

"Oh, ha ha," said Donn, but his face broke into a grin, and he was soon laughing with the others.

Emmeline filled the goblet three more times, and one by one, Brigid, Sara and Hunter drank the contents. Hunter didn't find the scalding hot liquid unpleasant, it reminded him of an herbal tea he had once tried, although much stronger. There was also a strange aftertaste, a meaty, nutty flavour that Hunter didn't want to know the cause of. The brew definitely did the job though; soon after finishing his draught, the shivering that was assaulting Hunter's limbs slowly disappeared.

A fog also seemed to lift from his mind, one he was not even aware had descended. He looked around at the others. Despite their recent experiences, they all appeared relatively clean and unscathed - looking more like they would have looked after the fight with the Attocroppe, rather than after the days it seemed they had spent hunting for the Dagda.

Hunter frowned and for the first time looked at his injured hand. His little finger was back, though now that he was looking at it, it felt odd to Hunter. He flexed his hand - all his fingers closed except the little finger, which remained where it was, paralysed.

"Hunter, your finger. How did it grow back?" Brigid reached over and grabbed his hand, pulling it towards her so she could look closer. Hunter could not feel a thing on the one side of his hand where the wound had been.

"It's paralysed," he said.

"Better that than it going through the digestive system of those demons," said Donn. "I mean you know what happens at the end of that process."

"But how did it come back?" Sara asked. "I saw that thing bite it off."

As one, they turned to Emmeline.

"The future that you entered does not really, and may not ever, exist," she said. "So any damage or hurt you suffered in that future cannot physically manifest here. However, your spirit, which is what travelled to the future and is not anchored in time like your bodies, was damaged. As that part that represents the finger was taken, then the finger can no longer be used. It is, as you say, paralysed."

Hunter pondered this for a moment. He had come to terms with the loss, so he supposed that the paralysis was nothing to be concerned over. It would also make the loss much easier to hide from his mother and others.

He was aware of Sara asking a question. "So does that mean we couldn't have died in the future? That we were scared about nothing?"

"It does not mean that at all. Death in the future would have meant death now," replied Emmeline.

"So does that mean Donn... Brigid stopped, looking at Donn with wide eyes.

"Yes, I killed those faeries," said Donn, his voice flat.

"But how? I thought you said you couldn't... Again, Brigid fell silent, and her cheeks coloured. "Sorry, Donn."

"It's cool," Donn said, folding his arms. "Normally I couldn't do that. But there was extra power there, wasn't there? It allowed you lot to take on those other forms. Well, it allowed me to... He shrugged.

"As I said," Emmeline said into the awkward silence that followed Donn's comment, "the danger you faced was very real. As is the danger you now face."

"Danger? I don't understand, Emmeline." Brigid let go of Hunter's hand as she spoke.

"The Dark Court tried to stop you from seeing the future. They know that they failed in this and that you have more than likely seen what they plan. Tethra is still very much a danger to you all."

"I'm beginning to think that all faeries are danger to us," said Donn with a snort.

Emmeline smiled. "Maybe you mortals are not as stupid as we make you out to be, after all."

Walking through the fields of Feygate Manor in the late afternoon sun it was easy to believe that nothing untoward had happened. That only part of the one day had passed and that they hadn't just lived through several extra days in the future. That is, if Hunter didn't feel so drained and tired.

He stifled a yawn as he looked at his friends walking around him. Their clothes were a bit disheveled and dirty from the fight in the cave. As were their hands and faces, each showing smudges of dirt and a few scratches here and there.

"So, then, what do we do now?" asked Brigid.

The question surprised Hunter; after what they had just experienced, they all knew what the future would be like if they did nothing. "We have to stop them."

"Yeah, right." Sara looked at him over her shoulder. "And how are we supposed to do that? We all saw how powerful Tethra was."

"His plan, the Harpist and all that, that's what made him powerful," answered Donn. "He won't be that powerful yet."

"But the longer we wait," added Hunter, "the more powerful he gets."

"OK," Sara said. "How do we stop his plan then?"

"Well," Brigid said, frowning in thought. "We have the Athame. It cuts bonds. I reckon that, by Hunter's description of what's been done to the Harpist, we could use it to disrupt Tethra's spell."

"That would work," said Hunter; he'd been thinking along the same lines as Brigid.

Sara sighed, "I thought we weren't going to get tied up in their war?"

"Aye, but we saw what happened when we did nothing."

"You believe that all that happened then? That it wasn't some kind of hallucination or dream?" Sara asked. Hunter could tell by her voice that she knew that it had happened.

"Yeah," he said. "And although what we witnessed may not be the exact future that happens, if we do nothing... well, I don't want to take that chance. Do you?

"No," Sara said without hesitation. Brigid echoed her answer.

"So, all we have to do then," said Donn, "is find the Dark Court, get into the centre of their camp and survive long enough for one of us to cut the Harpist guy free."

"That's about it," said Hunter.

"When?"

Hunter shrugged as the four reached the gate that opened on to a pathway that led directly to the manor house.

"The sooner, the better," he said, leading the others home.

###

Scholastic, New Zealand publishes the first book in this series 'The Lord of Beasts'. It is available from bookshops in Australia and New Zealand.

The author's webpage is http://www.justinelliott.co.nz
