The Fire King Page 3

  She wondered whether she should try to catch up with Jack and tell him what she was doing, but quickly decided against it. There was no time. Emily moved off the path, squeezing between a narrow passage formed by the walls of two sheds standing back to back. She edged along in the general direction of the tannery shed. Every now and then she could see the avenue through missing slats of wood. The first time she saw nothing. But the second time she had to freeze as the White Knight passed by not ten paces from her.

  She waited till she was sure he had gone, then peered into the open. A grass-covered path lay beyond, and on the other side of the path was a rocky bank that dropped away to the river. If she could get down the bank, she should be able to move around to the rear of the shed they’d been resting in earlier and work her way inside without being seen.

  Emily peered along the path to the left. She could see the back legs of the black horse, but the Rider’s attention was focused elsewhere. Emily took a nervous breath, then ran across the path and over the rise.

  As soon as her feet hit the grass, she slipped. She went down onto her back and slid down the hill, barely managing to stop herself from rolling into the brown water.

  She waited, lying flat on her stomach, but it didn’t seem as if she had been heard. Emily pushed herself into a crouch. She could see their shed from her position. It was only about thirty paces away. She hurried along the shoreline at a low run.

  Emily arrived at the rear of their shed and dropped to her knees. She pulled at one of the rotting planks, but it creaked and groaned alarmingly, so she gave that up and started digging the soft earth around the base of the structure instead. After a few minutes she had dug a hole big enough to admit her. She got down on her back and pulled herself through, wincing as the wood scraped against her back.

  Emily threw aside the moldy sacking, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw the tangled branches of the circular key sitting exactly where she had left it. She had half feared Black Annis or one of the others would be able to sense its presence, much the same as the Dagda had done back in Hyde Park.

  Emily scooped up the key and hurried back to the hole. She wriggled through on her stomach. The dry earth got up her nose and into her mouth as she did so. She wrinkled her nose and spat the dirt out as she tried to free her ankle, which had become wedged beneath the wooden planks.

  “Look at that, Jenny. Disgusting is what it is. Expectoratin’ all over the ground. No manners at all.”

  Emily yanked her foot free and rolled onto her back. Black Annis and Jenny Greenteeth were standing over her, their hideous faces framed against the blue sky.

  Black Annis reached down to grab hold of her. Emily lifted her hands up to ward the hag off, forgetting that she still held the key.

  Annis’s black eyes widened in amazement. They darted to the key, then to Emily, then back to the key again, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

  “The key, Jenny,” she said in a shocked voice. “She has the key.”

  “Can’t do, Miss Annis. Titania holds it tight, she does.”

  “I know that, cretin! But what do you think that is? Chopped children’s liver? I can feel the power. It’s the real thing.”

  Emily took advantage of their confusion to whirl around and dive back into the hole, thinking perhaps she could escape through the front door. She got halfway through before she felt clawlike hands grab hold of her ankles. Emily kicked and struggled with all her strength, but it was no use. She was pulled slowly backward. She grabbed at the wooden slats, her fingers scrambling for purchase. She managed to get a grip, her backward movement stopping. Then her eyes fell upon something on the dirt floor. A nail. An iron nail. She could use it as a weapon. But if she let go of the slats, she would be yanked back through the hole. And the nail looked like it was just out of reach.

  Emily took a deep breath. Well, she couldn’t just lie here forever, could she? There was nothing else for it.

  She let go of the wooden slat with one hand and stretched out for the nail. Her fingertips brushed against the cold metal, but then she slid backward.

  “No!” she screamed, and kicked behind her with a sudden burst of anger. She must have connected with something, because she heard a grunt of pain, and the pressure on her legs lessened. Emily quickly pushed forward, grabbing the end of the nail just before the hands took hold of her legs once again and jerked her from the hole with a violent yank that sent pain shooting up her legs.

  She rolled over and tried to scramble away, but Black Annis grabbed her by the neck and lifted her into the air. She brought Emily close, studying her face curiously. Emily could smell stagnant water and rotten fish on the crone’s breath.

  “Now where did someone like you get that key?” Black Annis’s hand tightened around Emily’s neck. She couldn’t answer even if she had wanted to.

  “Not talking? Ah well. I’m sure Kelindria will get the truth from you. Isn’t that right, Jenny?”

  “Oh yes, Mistress Annis. Kelindria will poke things into her till she talks.”

  Kelindria? Emily couldn’t let the key fall into her hands. Not after all she had been through to keep it from the Faerie Queen in the first place. If she got her hands on it now, everything they had done would be for nothing. Kelindria would be able to open the gate and summon her armies, and this time Emily might not be able to stop her.

  Emily stabbed the iron nail hard into Black Annis’s hand. The crone shrieked in pain and released Emily. She dropped to the ground and scrambled backward, gasping for breath. Black Annis’s hand was spewing oily smoke and black blood. Jenny Greenteeth lunged toward her, but Emily slashed out with the nail, and she jerked backward out of reach.

  Emily didn’t wait to see what they did next. She turned and ran back along the shore. Black Annis raised her voice and shrieked for help. Emily forced herself to run faster, dashing across the small path and back between the sheds. She could hear the sound of running feet somewhere behind her. She pushed on through the tight space and into the lane where she had been separated from the others. She ran on. A stitch stabbed into her side, but she ignored it, concentrating on getting every bit of speed she could from her legs. She could still hear Black Annis’s wailing in the distance, but thankfully the sound didn’t seem to be coming any closer.

  She rounded a corner and collided with someone coming the other way. She fell onto her backside and looked up, ready to use her nail once again.

  But it was only Jack. Emily almost sobbed with relief.

  “Where have you been?” he snapped, yanking her to her feet.

  “Don’t speak to me like that,” said Emily. “I had to go back for this.” She brandished the key in front of his face. “Seeing as no one else was going to remember it.”

  Jack looked confused. “But you were the one in charge of it,” he said. “Remember? You said you didn’t trust any of us to look after it.”

  “So what are you complaining about? I went back and got it, didn’t I?”

  “I’m not complaining—” Jack stopped, mid-argument. He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. We have to hurry. Corrigan says those hounds will be hunting us. Katerina wants to take us to some place called the Warren.”

  Emily quickly walked on ahead. She glanced back over her shoulder. “Come on then. What are you waiting for?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  In which Emily and Co. travel through a city that is almost, but not quite, familiar. Ancient tunnels. A surprise awaits.

  This wasn’t Emily’s London. She knew this, obviously, but the truth of the statement became more and more apparent as they fled through the cobbled alleys and dirty streets of the city. Everything was much smaller than she was used to, more stifling. The roads were narrower, filled to bursting with Londoners and horses and boys driving sheep and cows from one side of the town to the other.

  Instead of brick, most of the buildings were made from timber and shoved right up against one another. As a result of this, the only way to ma
ke houses larger was to build upwards, each precariously built floor larger than the one beneath and jutting farther and farther out over the street until only a small section of sky was visible from the shadowy road.

  But despite these differences, there was still a lot that was similar. For instance, there were the carriages of all sizes and types that jostled for position on the heaving streets, some rickety, some elaborately carved and painted. (Although, the clothing of the people inside these carriages was odd to her. Men wore frock jackets and curly, shoulder-length wigs, and women held scented kerchiefs to their noses to block out the stench.)

  When Emily first saw this, she felt a sharp stab of envy, because the stench was another thing that was familiar to her. Everyone she passed stank of stale sweat or bad breath. There was nowhere she could turn to escape it. The smell of vomit wafted from dark alleys, the stink of burned food from an open door, the revolting smell of rotting meat from an abattoir.

  And added to this was the stink that came from having all kinds of animals walking through the streets. The inevitable buildup left by the animals either buzzed with flies or crawled with writhing maggots. Back home, there were people whose job it was to clean up this type of mess. Obviously, this simple idea hadn’t occurred to anyone here, though Emily fervently wished it had.

  She stepped over a pile of something she would rather not identify, following Katerina as she slipped into a dark alley. The buildings that formed the two sides of the narrow lane were linked by a plank of wood resting on windowsills high above them. As Emily watched, someone climbed out of one of these windows and clomped over the plank to the house opposite. The wood creaked alarmingly, a fine dust sifting down through the air. Emily blinked the dust away and lowered her eyes. Katerina stood at the entrance to the alley, checking back over their route. The other members of her gang had disappeared as soon as they had left the river. It was just the four of them and Katerina now.

  “Where are we going?” Emily asked.

  Katerina glanced quickly over her shoulder. “To see Rob Goodfellow,” she said. Her eyes lingered on Corrigan. “I can’t figure you lot out. Maybe he can.”

  She turned her attention back to the street. Emily followed her gaze. It looked the same as all the other streets they had moved through. Except here the people going about their business looked slightly less well off, their clothes dull, and most of them had short hair. (Emily assumed this was to keep the nits away.) One or two beggars tried their luck, but anyone could see this wasn’t the best area of the city for them. There were no plump merchants. No rich people to take pity on them. Those who went about their business here were only a few steps up from begging themselves. They didn’t have anything to give.

  Corrigan hopped across from William’s shoulder. “Notice anything?” he said in a low voice.

  Emily took another look. No sign of Black Annis or Jenny Greenteeth. No sign of those hideous hounds. Or the knights. It all looked perfectly normal. She shook her head.

  “Look,” said Corrigan. “What’s missing here?”

  Emily took another look, trying to see what it was Corrigan was talking about. A moment later it struck her. She couldn’t see any of the fey. Not a one. Back in her time, there would be brownies hitching rides on the passersby; the fey would be wandering between the humans, going about their own business. But here there was none of that.

  “Where are the fey?” she asked softly.

  “Maybe we should ask your new friend,” replied Corrigan.

  “Come on,” said Katerina, apparently satisfied that they had managed to shake off pursuit. “We’ve still got a ways to go.”

  Katerina led them on for another hour or so, keeping to the stinking back alleys as much as possible. That was another thing that was similar to Emily’s London. There were a lot of warrens and courts, twisting lanes and mews that snaked around and behind the main streets, leading to hidden courtyards and forgotten houses. It seemed that London had always been like that, the passing years only adding to the confusion and mystery.

  They finally stopped before a stout brick wall with thick, flowering bushes growing at its base.

  “Where are we?” asked Jack.

  “Bonehill cemetery,” said Katerina. She got down to her knees and stuck her head inside the bushes, wriggling forward until only her legs remained in view. A moment later, they, too, were gone.

  Emily crouched down and peered through the leaves. Katerina’s face stared back at her from the other side of a large hole in the wall.

  “What are you waiting for?” she whispered fiercely. “Get in here. Unless you want Black Annis to catch you.”

  Emily straightened up and turned to Will. “In you go,” she said. William frowned, folding his arms across his chest.

  “Why do I have to go first? Do you think I’m going to run off and get into trouble if I’m out of your sight for a couple of seconds?”

  “Come on, Will,” said Jack. “Smallest first. In case I get stuck.”

  Will hesitated, then nodded at Jack. He got down onto his stomach, pointedly ignoring Emily, and squirmed through the hole.

  Emily frowned but didn’t say anything. What was the point? Any time she tried, Will took what she said the wrong way. It was like he wanted to fight with her.

  Emily went next. Branches snagged her clothing and hair, scraping against her skin, but she managed to pull herself through to the other side without too much difficulty.

  She stood up and surveyed their surroundings. Everywhere she looked she saw weathered headstones and small, stone crypts, some of them topped by statues of angels. Off to their right, nestling amidst the dry, brittle grass, stood a small church. Some distance away were long rows of freshly turned earth.

  “What are those for?” she asked, nodding at the long piles of earth.

  Katerina looked at Emily strangely. “The plague,” she said.

  Emily nodded thoughtfully, even though she didn’t really understand Katerina’s response. Katerina must have sensed Emily was none the wiser.

  “Last year? That spot of bother we had where thousands of people died? There wasn’t any more room for single graves, so they had to use those. How could you not know that?”

  Emily was spared having to answer Katerina’s question when Jack pulled himself through the hole and stood up. Katerina threw a suspicious look at Emily, then set off across the grass, heading deeper into the graveyard. After a few minutes, she stopped before a tall tree and proceeded to break off some of the smaller branches.

  “What are you doing?” asked Emily.

  “Arming ourselves. You said we needed witchbane.” Katerina handed Emily a branch about as long as her forearm. “Or, to give it its more common name, rowan wood. We can sharpen these up and use them as weapons if the hounds come back.”

  Katerina handed one each to Will and Jack, then led them along a stone path choked with weeds. It was obvious to Emily that the path wasn’t used very often, but they followed it anyway until it passed a small crypt with a hideous gargoyle perched above the closed doors. It was leaning over the roof, glaring at them, as if daring them to enter.

  Here Katerina stopped. She checked their surroundings carefully, then pulled open the doors and disappeared into the dark interior.

  William was the first to follow. He hurried through the opening after Katerina, moving before Emily could say anything. Emily watched him go. What was he doing? Trying to beat her? Did he think this was some kind of race? Or that he had to score points? Jack just shrugged awkwardly and followed after. That left Corrigan and Emily standing outside.

  “You’re very quiet,” she said.

  Corrigan looked around the graveyard. “It’s very peaceful here,” he said after a while.

  Emily glanced around. A sparrow flitted past, disappearing into the foliage of a nearby tree. It was peaceful.

  “And soon the Fire King is going to sweep through and burn it all.”

  Emily blinked, looking around with fresh ey
es. “Is there any way we can stop it?”

  Corrigan shrugged. “Can you change the past? I don’t know anything about that. All I know is that the second war of the races is about to start, and a lot of fey are going to die. A lot of humans as well.” He stared earnestly into Emily’s eyes. “I don’t want to be here, Emily Snow. Things are going to get very dangerous very soon.”

  Corrigan turned and entered the crypt. Emily swallowed nervously. She didn’t like it when Corrigan talked like that. He was usually so sure of himself, so cocky. If he was scared, then things were about to get very bad indeed.

  As she stood there, the bells of the church rang out in the distance, signaling the new hour. In the pleasant surroundings of a warm summer’s day, the bells should have been cheerful. But to Emily they sounded desolate, the echoing peals marking the beginning of the end.

  She shivered and stepped through the door, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dim interior. Jack was waiting next to a statue of a fierce wolf. As Emily approached she could see a hole in the wall behind it. From the scrape marks on the floor, it was evident that the heavy base of the statue had once blocked the opening.

  “Where’s Will?” she asked.

  “He’s already gone through,” said Jack. “So has the piskie.”

  Emily eyed the hole doubtfully. “Where does it go?”

  “No idea,” said Jack. He grinned. “Shall we find out? There might be treasure.”

  In spite of everything going on, Emily couldn’t help but smile. “You’ve got treasure on the brain,” she said. “If there was any treasure, why do Katerina and her gang look like they live on the streets?”

  Jack thought about this. “Disguise?” he suggested. “If you think about it, it’s really cunning. I certainly wouldn’t advertise the fact that I had piles of treasure stashed away.”

  “Jack, if you had any treasure, you’d be living it up at Claridge’s until you’d spent every last penny.”