Shadowfell (Shadowfell #1) by Juliet Marillier

Author:Juliet Marillier
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780375869549

Walking with the Good Folk was not like walking with Flint. The memory of how that had felt – his arm in mine, the warmth of his body, the strength of his presence – lingered close, despite my efforts to banish it. His treachery made my heart sore. It made my gut hollow and empty. I fought to maintain the anger that would keep me walking, but it was hard with the day growing colder and the path ahead stretching on and on, up hill and down, over sliding pebbles and sucking mud patches and rocks all jutting edges and deceptive holes. All the time the Good Folk kept pace with me, taking turns to hold my hands, whispering among themselves from time to time. Their bright eyes, their warm paws, their murmurs of encouragement gave me heart and kept me moving.

We followed a narrow track that lay just below the ridge. Once in a while one of my companions would climb back to the crest to look down into the valley. We would wait, then move on.

It was on the third such patrol that Daw, perched between the stones on the ridge and looking over, motioned urgently to the rest of us, summoning us to climb up. We scrambled up beside him. We had come further than I thought. Corbie’s Wood lay well behind us, dark and still amid the skeletal trees. Smoke was rising somewhere back there. Not from the ruined settlement; there was nothing of it left to burn. From up the hill beyond that place. And down by Corbie’s Wood there were riders moving about as if searching.

‘King’s men are near at hand,’ said Silver. ‘But he has led them the low way.’

‘That smoke.’ I made myself say it. ‘It could be the hut. Where we – where I was staying. They may have split into two parties. One could be close behind us.’

‘And even if you are wrong,’ said Daw, ‘when they find no trace of you on the low road, they will think of this path. Come, we must make haste.’

‘How far to this haven?’ I asked Silver. I did not know how long I could keep going.

‘It is not so near,’ Silver said, ‘and not so far. Gentle!’ The little woman she called to was sweet-featured, fair-haired and dressed in a grey hooded robe. She carried a curiously woven bag over her shoulder. ‘You’d best give Neryn one of your cordials.’

‘I shouldn’t – I’ve heard –’ I stammered as the little woman opened the bag and took out a minuscule stone bottle sealed with a bark stopper.

‘Alban’s full o’ tales, lassie,’ Gentle said, fishing out a nutshell cup. ‘This willna send ye to the Otherworld, nor bind ye to us in any way whatsoever. It will do nae more than give ye strength to walk.’

It was one risk against another. Drink the draught and accept the consequences, or perhaps fail to reach the place of safety before the Enforcers came. I took the little cup and tilted it to my lips.

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