Midnight Frost (9 page)

He couldn't change back, I realized. He was too injured – his adrenaline running too high – for him to take the time and energy to transform. But as a human, he'd never be able to run fast enough, never be able to outrun the dragon!

“Logan, no!” I screamed. I could feel my heart constrict – feel my love for him flowing through my veins – all at once I saw us together, as we had been as children, memories of our lives together flashing before me. I flew towards the ground, towards the dragon's mouth, trying to save him...

“Leave, Breena! Let me go!” Logan was calling, his voice hoarse and full of pain! “Fly on! It's too dangerous.”

The dragon was gaining on him now, ducking its neck close to its prey, its teeth going in for the kill.

“Get on!” It was a voice I did not know. From a distance I saw what looked like a horse canter up to Logan, lowering its head for just long enough for Logan to clamber on. The horse kicked its feet into the earth, running faster than I had ever seen a horse run, taking Logan out of the dragon's range, past the gorge. I flew over them, trying to make out who it was. A pegasus? No – this horse had no wings...

We came to the edge of the gorge and the banks of a river, over which first Steel, then this new horse, had jumped. The dragon remained at the edge of the river-bank, evidently unwilling or unable to cross. I flew down to meet them.

“It's a magical barrier!” Kian dismounted his horse, sighing with relief. “The residents of Vineseed must have put it up to keep the dragon out.”

“They really should have put it on both sides of the gorge, then,” said the strange voice, and only then did I realize that it was coming from the horse.

A horse that, I noticed upon closer reflection, was not a horse at all. For the creature that had borne Logan to safety was only a horse from the waist down. From the waist up, the being was unmistakably human – a handsome chestnut-haired man with a wry smile.

“A centaur!” I breathed.

“A fairy!” He responded, mocking my surprise.

“Kind sir,” Kian turned to the centaur, bowing low, as I ran to Logan's side, placing my hands onto his burns to heal them. “To whom do we owe the honor of our very narrow escape?”

“Cary,” the centaur bowed, his powerful legs buckling beneath him. “I and my kind live around these parts. We collect dragon scales to sell in the Spring marketplaces.”

“A dangerous job,” Kian looked impressed.

“I like danger,” said Cary. “What's life without a little adventure? In these dark times, those of us without fairy blood in our veins need to find some way to survive.”

“Then you take no side in the conflict?” Kian asked.

“I wouldn't say that,” said Cary. “I take the side of whomever lets those of us who have no land and care for no territory live freely and peaceably, and preferably with a bit of fun. In the ancient days of Feyland, my kind sought honor and glory. But there is no glory in fighting against one's own kind. A dragon, on the other hand...”

Kian nodded. “Do you fell dragons regularly?”

“A few a month.” It was clear that Cary was telling the truth, although pride certainly shone from his face. “There's more glory in felling a good dragon than in besieging a castle.”

“And what if you fought for peace?” Kian asked. “For a freer Feyland?”

“What, are you trying to get me to fight for Summer? Or Winter? Representatives of both have tried to get centaurs into the battle, but my tribe has refused.”

“Neither,” said Kian. “For a united Feyland. Against the Dark Hordes. Under the banner of the Midnight Knight.”

“The Midnight Knight!” Now Cary looked excited. “I've heard all about...but he's not a fairy, is he? He's a centaur! I always heard that the Midnight Knight was a centaur!”

“The Summer Fey claim him for their own – the Winter for theirs.” Kian said. “But the Midnight Knight transcends loyalties – he is neither fairy nor centaur, Winter nor Summer, but rather a great warrior whose magic goes beyond the magic of a race or loyalty. The Midnight Knight defends good against evil, with no regard for territorial lines, no regard for clans. And he rewards the heroic.”

“Heroic, huh?” A smile was beginning to form on Cary's face.

And thus did Cary the centaur join us on our journey to Vineseed. He was an affable, jocular fellow – he didn't even object to letting Logan ride him in order to speed up the journey (“although I don't normally do this sort of thing,” he explained. “I just don't want him slowing us down.”)

The danger of dragons seemed to have passed, but we were on alert for other threatening creatures. No sooner had we left dragon country than we passed through a territory controlled by Minotaurs – a creature for which Kian, in particular, now had a special disdain.

“What's that?” Cary looked up as we passed by a clearing. “I heard a rustling.”

Before the rest of us could look up, we heard the thud of rapid hoofbeats – a swift charge. A minotaur was rushing towards us, its horns gleaming in the late afternoon sun. A deep voice came from its throat. “Begone! This is my territory!”

Logan and Kian traded a look, and in a flash they were on the ground, each one brandishing a sword on one side of the creature's body. I watched with admiration as the two of them fought side by side. They had been comrades in arms now for long enough – each able to anticipate the other's every move – the connection between the two of them palpable. Logan darted to the left; Kian went to the right. Logan slashed rightwards; Kian feinted left. The Minotaur was defenseless against their combined power – their muscular grace. I couldn't help but smile. On their own, Kian and Logan were brave fighters. Together, however, they were unbeatable.

With a series of short, sharp thrusts, they managed to subdue the creature; Cary passed them a rope from his saddlebag, which they used to tie him to a tree-post.

“Let's get this wretched creature's head off his body!” Kian said, brandishing his sword high.

I remembered the voice of the Minotaur I had met in the kingdom of the Dead, and felt vaguely sick. That Minotaur had accused me of killing him and all his brothers – simply because he had the audacity to seek food.

“Wait!” I said. “Let's just leave him there! He's no threat to us.”

“You think I'm not a threat?” The Minotaur's voice seemed far less ominous now that he was trussed up. He was jumping against his rope. “I'm brave and strong, I am. I can eat you in a heartbeat! Just try me!”

It was then that I realized what, precisely, this Minotaur was. He was far smaller than the Minotaurs I'd seen in the past – and his voice far higher.

“It's a baby, Kian!”

“A baby Minotaur!”

“I'm no baby!” The Minotaur wasn't helping his cause. “I'm big and strong. Just like my daddy!”

“We can't kill a baby.”

“I'm not a baby!” The Minotaur was leaping up and down. “I could thrash one of you in a heartbeat.”

Logan couldn't stifle a laugh as he knelt at the Minotaur's side. “So you'd prefer it if we killed you, then?”

The Minotaur stopped short, ceasing its leaping. “I didn't say that,” it said in a small voice. “But I
could
eat you, you know. If I wanted.”

“I'm sure you could.” Logan grinned as he gave the Minotaur a soft pat on the head, scratching it behind the ears.

“Hey, stop, that's...” the Minotaur ceased its protests as it began laughing at the tickle, rubbing its back against the tree trunk and rolling over on its stomach to be petted.

I broke out into a laugh. “You're pretty cute for a Minotaur,” I said.

“I'm only half,” the Minotaur said as Logan continued rubbing its belly. “I'm half human – like my mother. My dad's the bull. My mother's from Beyond the Crystal River.”

Logan and I traded disgusted looks, but decided not to pry much further into the physiology of the situation.

“I think we're not going to bother killing you right now,” said Kian, looking with wonder at the small, puppyish Minotaur. “As brave and strong as you undoubtedly are.”

“Thank you,” said the Minotaur in a small voice.

“But I shall demand something in return,” said Kian. “Something a great, brave, strong hero like yourself should be glad to provide.”

The Minotaur sprang to his feet. Once free of Logan's amused stomach-rub, he looked infinitely more dignified. Not a full-grown Minotaur quite yet, I reasoned, but certainly with the potential for making a strong one one day.

“I owe you my life,” said the Minotaur. “I owe you any service you wish me to provide.”

Kian smiled. “My dear Minotaur,” he said. “Have you ever heard of the Midnight Knight?”

And thus did Barnaby the Minotaur join our band.

Chapter 9

A
t last we reached Vineseed, Barnaby and Cary in tow. They had both proven strong and loyal allies – Cary had vanished the previous morning to fell a dragon on his own, returning with a load of valuable dragon scales in tow. “Worth a hundred gold pieces each,” he said, removing the scales from his saddlebag.

Our trip to Vineseed had done us some good. Minotaurs and Centaurs alike had begun to hear of our exploits – the felling of dragons, the appearance of the mysterious figure in the black armor with a familiar sword and a famous steed – and by the time we arrived in the village, we were the subject of numerous looks and whispers. “Is that the Midnight Knight?” we heard a group of young girls whispering among themselves? “Has he really come with his band? Is that the Red Wolf at his feet?”

Kian and I smiled at each other. Our plan was working. Before long, we knew, the rumors would hit Feyland that the Midnight Knight was returning – rumors that would strike fear into the hearts of the heartless Dark Hordes and joy into the spirits of all loyal fairies, just in time for us to make our arrival. It was still difficult to be so far from the Summer Court – every ounce of magic in my being seemed to beckon me there, to call me to my spiritual home and to the fight for its survival. I wanted nothing more than to be back there, to kiss the stone floors and marble steps of the palace, to stand at the balcony of the throne room and watch the battle. But I knew that the best work I could do for Feyland was here – and although I missed and feared for my father I tried to put it out of my mind.

Barnaby and Cary proved firm and friendly companions. Cary's strength and poise made him a valuable asset – he had agreed, furthermore, to send his clan of Centaurs to fight for the Midnight Knight. He may not believe in fairy wars, he told us, but he believed in heroism, in doing the right and honorable thing, and there was nothing more honorable in these dark days of Feyland than to bring forth a peace that would help all magical races. For his part, Barnaby was a willing – if somewhat impulsive – addition to our group. He may have lacked the fighting experience of the rest of us, but he more than made up for it with his eagerness – he hunted animals and speared fish with his horns for the rest of us to eat, carried the heaviest loads of our pack, and otherwise served us faithfully and well. He was a far more dignified being than we had given him credit for, we discovered, for although he had a notable weakness for tickling, he was willing to brave all kinds of creatures – including minotaurs – to defend us, and lapped up the praise we afforded him at his brave deeds.

When we reached the center of Vineseed – a tiny village with little more than a main square – we decided to stop for the night at a local tavern before proceeding the next day to Jeremy's manor, a few miles out of town. It was getting dark, and while a diet of raw fish and meat and foraged berries had sustained us for a few days, we were anxious to have something warm in our bellies for the morrow. This would be the last stop, we knew, before we had to return to Feyland and join the battle, and it was likely to be our last chance for hot food for who knew how long. Thus Cary, tripping over the tables with his long legs, ordered us some cherry blossom ale, a specialty of the region, and we made our way to a table. The tavern was dark, lit only by a few scattered candles, and the room was full of shadows.