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Mistrals Kiss :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 65 из 148The sluagh, the nightmares of the Unseelie Court and a kingdom in their own right, moved fast but the nightflyers always moved faster than the rest of the sluagh. We were inside the sluagh’s hollow hill; somehow we had crossed to their sithen. If they found us here…we might survive, or not.
“Do sluagh wait on the other side of the door?” Doyle asked Mistral urgently.
“No,” Mistral called back.
“Then go, now!” Doyle ordered.
Abe stumbled forward as if Mistral had moved suddenly out of the way. We came through the door in a rush with Doyle pushing from behind. He was like some kind of elemental force at our backs. It put us in a heap on the ground. I couldn’t see anything but white flesh, and I felt the muscled weight of them all around me.
“Where are we?” Frost asked.
Rhys moved, drawing me to my feet with him. Doyle, Mistral, and Frost were all on alert, weapons out, searching for something to fight. The door had vanished, leaving us on the shore of a dark lake.
Lake may have been too strong a word. The depression was dry except for a slimy skim of water at the very bottom. Bones littered the floor of the dying lake, and the shore where we stood. The bones shone dully in the dim light that fell from the stone ceiling, as if the moon had been rubbed into the rock. All around the shore, the stone walls of the cavern rose steeply up into the gloom, surrounded only by a narrow ledge before a steep drop-off into the lake bed.
“Call the door again, Meredith,” Doyle said, his dark face still searching the dead land.
“Yes, and be more specific about our destination this time,” Mistral said.
Abe was still on the ground. I heard a sharp intake of breath, and glanced over at him. His hand was black and shiny in the dim light. “What are these bones that they could cut sidhe flesh?”
Doyle answered him. “They are the bones of the most magical of the sluagh. Things so fantastical that when the sluagh began to fade in power, there was not enough magic to sustain their lives.”
I clung to Rhys and whispered, “We’re in the sluagh’s dead gardens.”
“Yes. Call the door, now.” Doyle glanced at me, then back to the dim landscape.
Rhys had one arm around me, the other hand full of his gun. “Do it, Merry.”
“I need a door to the Unseelie sithen.” On the far side of the dead lake, the door appeared.
“Well, that’s inconvenient,” Rhys whispered wryly, but he tucked me closer against his body.
“There is room to walk the edge, if we are careful,” Mistral said.
“Do sluagh wait on the other side of the door?” Doyle asked Mistral urgently.
“No,” Mistral called back.
“Then go, now!” Doyle ordered.
Abe stumbled forward as if Mistral had moved suddenly out of the way. We came through the door in a rush with Doyle pushing from behind. He was like some kind of elemental force at our backs. It put us in a heap on the ground. I couldn’t see anything but white flesh, and I felt the muscled weight of them all around me.
“Where are we?” Frost asked.
Rhys moved, drawing me to my feet with him. Doyle, Mistral, and Frost were all on alert, weapons out, searching for something to fight. The door had vanished, leaving us on the shore of a dark lake.
Lake may have been too strong a word. The depression was dry except for a slimy skim of water at the very bottom. Bones littered the floor of the dying lake, and the shore where we stood. The bones shone dully in the dim light that fell from the stone ceiling, as if the moon had been rubbed into the rock. All around the shore, the stone walls of the cavern rose steeply up into the gloom, surrounded only by a narrow ledge before a steep drop-off into the lake bed.
“Call the door again, Meredith,” Doyle said, his dark face still searching the dead land.
“Yes, and be more specific about our destination this time,” Mistral said.
Abe was still on the ground. I heard a sharp intake of breath, and glanced over at him. His hand was black and shiny in the dim light. “What are these bones that they could cut sidhe flesh?”
Doyle answered him. “They are the bones of the most magical of the sluagh. Things so fantastical that when the sluagh began to fade in power, there was not enough magic to sustain their lives.”
I clung to Rhys and whispered, “We’re in the sluagh’s dead gardens.”
“Yes. Call the door, now.” Doyle glanced at me, then back to the dim landscape.
Rhys had one arm around me, the other hand full of his gun. “Do it, Merry.”
“I need a door to the Unseelie sithen.” On the far side of the dead lake, the door appeared.
“Well, that’s inconvenient,” Rhys whispered wryly, but he tucked me closer against his body.
“There is room to walk the edge, if we are careful,” Mistral said.