“Your people?” Devyn scowled at her again. “Your people didn’t even try. They sat in the dark and bemoaned their lot. Two of my uncles and my older sister gave their lives that the three of us might get out. Your people did nothing.”
Nor would they, Shan realised. Not if the Shistra-Phail were all dead. The Feyna didn’t know how to fight, for theirs was a way of peace. But his respect for the Holters’ young just grew even greater.
Not so with Ylandra, who was gazing at three innocent children as if they were animals.
“It was a great feat, to escape the hives of the Fell,” Shan said, keeping his voice even and calm. “And your family died nobly to aid you.” Respect had to be given when due, didn’t his Sect Mother understand even that much?
Slightly mollified, Devyn kept his attention fixed on Shan. Their hierarchy was different. He didn’t even realise that Ylandra was in charge and that was making her even angrier.
“Where is the hive?” she asked. “How do we get inside?”
Devyn turned to face her. “Are you mad?”
“Our mission is to find it, free the captives and kill the Fellna.”
“Two of you?” His flat tone spoke of disbelief.
Shan gave a mirthless laugh which had the boy swivelling his head back at once. “Did your family never tell you Felan’s tales?”
“Yes, but they’re…he was…it’s just stories.”
“Aren’t children supposed to believe in stories?” Ylandra asked, pacing now, impatient.
“I believe,” the smallest one piped up. Jerryl. “Mama told me. She told me every night. I want her to tell me again, Devyn.”
“I’ll show you the way,” Devyn said suddenly. “I’ll show you the way inside myself and everything, but you have to take us to Jeren.”
“Afterwards,” Ylandra interrupted. “You can hide. Or we’ll tell you which way to go. But we are running out of time.”
Shan didn’t like it, but what could he do to argue? Devyn agreed to Ylandra’s foolhardy plan and that was that. Though they tried not to show it, the three children were terrified at the prospect of going anywhere near the Fellna hive. And yet they went.
“You are the one she left with, aren’t you?” Devyn asked tentatively as they walked. He kept his voice low and calm. The other two never said a word, just gazed up at Shan with those bright blue eyes. When he didn’t answer, Devyn blushed. “Lady Jeren, I mean. They said you found her in the snow fields and saved her. You…you spirited her away from River Holt.”
Shan raised an eyebrow. “Spirited her? No. She helped me escape. I was a prisoner there. My reward for saving her life.” Not entirely true perhaps. Jeren was his reward. But he wondered what these Holters had told their children.
“Mina tried to get her out and they killed her,” Devyn replied flatly. “But you were able to do it.”
“Perhaps we did it together. Don’t underestimate Jeren.”
“No.” Devyn looked away again and his voice calmed, a hint of pride edging back in. “No, you’re right. She’s True Blood, a Scion of Jern.”
“What did Gilliad say?”
“That she was a traitor. That we were all traitors. Then the shadows came and we tried to run but…” His voice died in his throat and he reached out for the smaller pair, pulling them closer again. “He said you took her and murdered people in your escape. There was talk of a wolf, a magical wolf, and Lady Jeren defying her brother, but that was just the guards. And any of them he caught running their mouths off…well, the stories didn’t last long.”
“When did the Fellna take you?”
“Three weeks ago.”
Only days after he and Jeren had fled. The Fellna could travel through the shadows, pass between here and there in an instant. Given an Enchassa of enough power, such as the one he had already encountered, they could carry off the clan of Roh easily. Shan knew of a number of ceremonies which would summon them, but how could Gilliad have discovered them? Unless he had sworn himself to the same Dark God. But he wouldn’t, surely. And yet Shan couldn’t dismiss the idea that, yes, given the opportunity for power and vengeance, Gilliad would do anything, anything at all, especially if it meant hurting Jeren. And destroying the family of her beloved friend…that would break her heart. Shan couldn’t tear his eyes off the three children. Filthy and malnourished, they were, yes, but to have survived that long in a hive, to have escaped…
“They hid us,” said Jerryl suddenly, reminding him too keenly of Jeren with her narrow face and brown hair. “Our family. Kept us near the back, made sure we ate and tried to keep us safe. I don’t know how many they took instead of us.” They would have wanted the young first, of course. Better sacrifices, better feeding. Her cheeks were hollow, and her eyes huge. When she swallowed, her whole body moved with the effort. “If they see us…”
Shan stopped abruptly and they fell still, watching him, one defiant knot of Holters, as determined as the rocks around them. Shan wondered what Ariah would make of them, or if Jeren would recognise them as the people from her home. It would break her heart to know what Gilliad had done, the pact Shan suspected he had made with the Fellna. She loved her people. And he loved her. Hunkering down, he stretched his hands out to Jerryl’s. Her fingers were tiny but firm as they encircled his.
“If they see us, if they come, you will run and you will hide. All three of you. No matter what happens. When all is quiet again, you will go southwest and you’ll find Jeren in a Shistra-Phail encampment. You won’t come back. You won’t try to help us. You will run and hide, and I will never let them near you. Understand?”
She swallowed again, the same great effort of movement, and then nodded her head.
He gave her hand the gentlest squeeze and caught Devyn’s eye. The boy seemed less a boy again. There was a light in those eyes, determined and all too adult. He would do exactly what Shan said, and protect the little ones, no matter what. For that Shan was grateful.
“What is the hold up?” Ylandra called back from the bottom of the next incline.
Shan straightened up. “Small legs need to rest occasionally, Sect Mother.”
Devyn grumbled something behind him. For the sake of Ylandra’s honour, Shan pretended not to hear the exact words.
“Is she always like that?” Devyn asked. “She treats you like a servant.”
Shan smiled, but there was no joy in it. “Sadly, Devyn, I’m even less than that.”
The next hour passed in agonising slowness as they struggled up the mountainside. The world fell still but for the scrape of foot on stone, the labouring of their breath. The sky overhead was empty of birds, and there was no sign of life amid the rocks and dust. Unease crept over Shan, but he kept going, following Ylandra and Devyn, trying to keep the children safe. Like little mountain goats, however, they didn’t seem to need him. As time went by, their pace slowed too. Not from tiredness or strain. From fear.
Finally they crested a ridge and Devyn pointed into a hollow in the rockface. Hidden in the shadows, a fissure opened up, and along its side Shan could just make out a narrow tunnel leading down into the darkness.
“How far down?” Shan whispered. No one raised their voice here. In this valley of shadow the world seemed to hold its breath for fear of being heard.
But Devyn shook his head. They didn’t know. Shan stared at the opening. They must have been terrified when they fled this place, desperate, forcing themselves onwards. It was a wonder they remembered where it was at all.
“We shouldn’t be here,” hissed Pern, wrapping his arms around his chest, shifting from one foot to the other. “We should go. You should come with us.”