“The Blackwings have found us.”
Eleven
There was a moment of dreadful silence. Then:
“I’ll hold them off,” said Peri. “The rest of you, get ready to move.” She took a step toward the door, but Rob intercepted her.
“This is folly,” he said. “What can you do against them? Whatever you may have been once, you are a mere human now, and you have no magic.”
“Maybe not,” agreed Peri, and her mouth curled in a bleak smile. “But I do have a gun.” And with that she sprinted off down the corridor, leaving Rob staring after her.
Paul spun his chair to face Linden and Timothy. “Right, this is what we’re going to do. Knife will keep the Blackwings distracted at the back of the house while we sneak out the front. Then I’ll drive you to the train station.”
He didn’t even notice that he’d called her Knife, Timothy thought, and a shiver went through him at the strangeness of it. But Paul was still talking: “Linden, do you think you can cast some kind of glamour to hide us?”
“I can try,” said Linden in a small voice. The excitement that had lit her eyes earlier had vanished; she looked tense now, and very pale.
“The glamour you need is simple,” Rob assured her. “If you hold a picture in your mind of the front of this house as you wish it to seem, it will appear so to the Blackwings until you are safely away. The only thing that might enable them to see through your illusion is if they hear you leaving-but I can cast a spell of silence to prevent that.”
“But what will you do when we’ve gone?” Linden asked anxiously. “How will you get away?”
Rob’s mouth quirked, as though her concern amused him. “I will be safe enough here in this house until the Blackwings have gone. They will not sense my presence-never fear; I have my own tricks and am a match for either of them.”
“Assuming that fat head of yours will still fit out the door when they’re gone,” said Thorn sardonically from her perch above the fireplace; but Timothy could see that she was shaken. She rose and dusted off her breeches, adding, “I’d best get back to the Oak before that blighted pair of carrion-eaters arrives. Linden, you watch yourself- and the boy, too.” And with that she heaved open the window and disappeared.
“Timothy!” shouted Peri’s voice from the floor above, and Timothy raced down the corridor to answer. He reached the bottom of the stairs just in time to catch the glimmering object she tossed down to him-an old- fashioned iron key.
“Thanks,” he said as he slid it into his pocket, only realizing his mistake when he saw her flinch. “Sorry.”
“No matter,” she replied. “Old habits, that’s all.” She galloped down the rest of the stairs and pulled Timothy into a rough embrace before reaching out to do the same with Linden, who had just hurried up with the others. She stooped to kiss Paul, gave Rob a curt nod, and strode toward the back door with rifle in hand.
“Will she be all right?” Linden asked Rob. “Will they hurt her?”
“They have no knowledge of your history, or hers,” said Rob. “To them she will appear no more than another ignorant human shooting at them for sport: As long as they do not suspect that she is knowingly defending you, she should be safe. But enough talk. The way is clear. Go.”
Rob’s spell of silence seemed to be working, because as Linden crept out the front door and onto the gravel drive with Timothy and Paul behind her, none of them made a sound. The car doors opened without creaking, and shut just as noiselessly; and when Paul transferred from his wheelchair into the driver’s seat and turned the key, only a slight vibration assured Linden that the engine had started at all.
She closed her eyes and pictured the front of the House just as Rob had told her, with an empty car sitting in the drive and no humans or faeries in sight, even as in reality Paul was already easing the car out onto the road. The effort made her temples pound, though not as badly as she’d feared; after a moment she even dared to look back to see what the Blackwings were doing.
If she craned her neck she could just make out Knife standing tensed by the side of the House, watching the ravens as they circled high above. The air between their wings shimmered, and ripples of power expanded across the Oakenwyld, breaking against the House and the great Tree.
“They’re searching for us,” she whispered.
Suddenly the two birds wheeled in midair and veered toward them. “They’ve spotted us!” gasped Linden, and Paul’s hand moved sharply on the controls, urging the car to greater speed. But the road was winding, and it would be all too easy for their faery pursuers to cut them off Then Knife burst through the gate into the front garden, swung up her rifle, and fired.
It was a spectacular shot. Black feathers exploded into the sky, and the lead raven shrieked and straggled downward. Immediately his brother dove after him, and the two birds plunged into the shadows of the woods.
“Yes!” exulted Timothy from the front seat, but Linden slumped down beside Paul’s folded wheelchair and closed her eyes, shuddering. Knife had indeed saved them-but at what cost? She had only winged the raven, not killed him. And if his brother could heal his wound as Rob had healed hers last night, it might not be long before the two of them rose up to take their revenge…
Timothy must have been thinking the same thing, because when he spoke again he sounded less confident, as though he were trying to reassure himself. “She’ll be all right. Even if they do suspect she was helping us, they won’t do anything to her. They can’t afford to waste the time.”
Paul did not answer. His expression was grim, his eyes fixed on the road. In silence they sped away, leaving the Oakenwyld and its lone defender behind them.
Timothy had assumed Paul would take them to the station at Aynsbridge, but his cousin had a different plan. “You’ll get away faster from Oxted,” he said, “and it’ll make it harder for the Blackwings to catch up with you. When I drop you off, just go to the information desk and tell them you want to get to Cardigan as fast as possible; they’ll tell you where to go from there.”
“Cardigan?” asked Linden from the backseat. “Is that where we’re going?”
“Somewhere around there.” Timothy pulled the pages out of his jacket pocket, unfolded them, and handed them back to her. “There’s a map of Wales there. See where I’ve circled Cardigan, on the coast? And the next couple of pages are the information I found about the Children of Rhys.”
“The Plant Rhys Ddwfn, or Children of Rhys the Deep,” read Linden aloud. “A small fair folk dwelling upon the Green Isles of the Sea…came often to market at Cardigan, and paid the farmers generously in silver…” Her lips formed a soft O of comprehension.
“Right, so that’s why I thought Cardigan would be the place to start looking,” said Timothy. “But the last page is the best of all-it’s a story about this farmer named Gruffydd who actually met the Children of Rhys.”
He waited as Linden read over the legend, which told how the farmer had been walking through St. David’s churchyard when he noticed some beautiful green islands out at sea. He decided to sail out to the islands in his boat, but as soon as he left the church, they disappeared. Gruffydd had gone back and forth in confusion a few times before realizing that he needed to pull up some of the strange plants that grew in the churchyard and take them with him in his boat. He did so, and when he reached the islands, the Children of Rhys greeted him warmly and gave him rich gifts.
“So if we’re going to find the Children,” said Linden slowly as she finished reading, “we have to find this churchyard and these magical plants first?”
“I know it sounds far-fetched,” said Timothy. Then his mouth twisted wryly and he added, “Or considering that I’m talking to a faery, maybe not. But it sounds to me like the church isn’t far from Cardigan, so it can’t hurt to look, right?”
Linden nodded, though she still looked uncertain, and Timothy couldn’t blame her. How much confidence could they have in a story that was now hundreds of years old?
