Page 39 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
She had never, ever seen anything like this.
Caerwyn stared at his hands, and then, awfully, up at her.
He’d seen something like this before.
He’ddonesomething like this before.
An axe sliced through the air between them, decapitating the soldier in an instant. Minerva raced forwards on her wargi, collecting her weapon, and circled around them like a dog herding sheep. “Come on!” she growled.
Caerwyn didn’t wait. He raced forward, grabbing the reins of Beau’s horse that Diana was holding out to him. The rest of the dwarves were hovering beside a small shed at the base of a cliff.
Aislinn ran with them.
The back of the shed had been cut away, revealing a sharp tunnel under the mountain. The horses whinnied, but the wargis charged ahead, and a few soft words from Caerwyn had them following. They plunged into the dark, a few pinpricks of light in the tunnel ahead guiding the way; some of the dwarves had lit torches.
“Stand clear!” Minerva bellowed.
Magna and Fort stood at the mouth of the tunnel, readying explosives. Everyone hurried forward.
The entrance collapsed. The tunnel rumbled. Stillness and a never-ending silence followed, punctuated only by the weak whimpering of the horses and the panting of the wargis.
“So…” Beau began, “did anyone else see Caer just… turn a soldier into an undead monster? Did you all know he could do that?”
The entire party blinked at him.
“Of course you did. But do you also know howhard that is to do?” He whipped out his notebook. “How long have you had these powers? When did they manifest? How do they work—”
“Beau,” said Aislinn silently, “Be quiet.”
“Oh, right, not really the time, is it? All right, then.” He sucked all his questions back in with a resigned sigh.
Aislinn glanced at Caerwyn, but he did not meet her gaze. He kept his eyes firmly screwed to the floor, fingers tight on the reins of Beau’s horse.
“Have you ever heard of mortals being born with powers?”
Caerwyn hadn’t fled from the castle because his stepfather wanted him dead. He’d fled because he’d killed someone. Because he had powers he couldn’t control, didn’t know how to use or where they came from. And he’d stayed with the dwarves because they alone were immune to his touch.
Like Beau, she had questions. But she wasn’t sure she wanted the answers.
“Come on,” said Minerva. “We’ve a lot of ground to cover. That cave-in won’t hold them forever. We need to reach Faerie by nightfall.”
Atlast,thetunnelopened into the crisp, cool air, and the boundary to Faerie glittered on the horizon, like shimmering smoke. There was a short break to refresh themselves, to double-check the gear they’d managed to collect in the struggle, and to douse the torches. Everyone climbed onto their mounts, Caerwyn taking Beau’s horse, Beau sliding onto Snapdragon behind Ais.
Caerwyn had still not looked at her.
“Youdidn’t know, did you?” Beau whispered in Aislinn’s ear.
“Of course I didn’t!”
“I did wonder about the gloves. Do you think it happens whenever he touches someone?”
Aislinn remembered grabbing his face, and the sheer panic that had blossomed there. There were other times, too, when their skin had skimmed. Nothing had happened.
She shook her head. “I just don’t think he can control it.”
What must that be like, she wondered, to risk killing someone every time you touched them? To not know, to have no power over yourself?
She did not want to think, and yet she found she could not stop herself.
