Braden turned the station wagon into the lane, his headlights slewing across the flowered hill. Melissa kissed him and slid out of the car and ran. He jammed on the brakes and was out, too, running, grabbing her. “You’re not going down alone.” She had told him everything, had described the Netherworld for him, had built a picture of Siddonie’s evil, and of the rising war. “I’m going with you.” He held her wrists, so insistent she couldn’t break free.
“You can’t go, you have no protection, no magic. They—”
“I have other skills. I’m coming with you.”
His eyes burned her, his grip bruised. There was no use to argue with him. She said, “Then you must do as I say. There are things you must have—things I wouldn’t need alone.”
“Like what?”
“A lantern or oil lamp—not a flashlight. A knife strong enough for a good weapon. Some food.”
“Why do
“I can turn a weapon away. I told you, magic is a weapon there.”
He didn’t move, just held her prisoner.
“Please, Braden, there is little time.”
“I’m not leaving you alone.” Gripping her hand, he headed for the studio.
“I’ll wait for you, I promise. I must make slow, careful preparations. Please—hurry, get some food for us. And bring a blanket.”
He searched her face, holding her tightly.
“You’re wasting time, Braden! I promise I will wait! You must trust me!”
He released her at last and turned away, running for the studio. She saw the studio lights go on as she pushed in through the portal. She said the spell, she was through the wall when Braden burst into the tool room. She shouted the closing spell; the wall swung closed in his face.
“Christ! Melissa!” His voice was muffled.
“Are you hurt?” she screamed.
“No, for Christ sake. Open the damn wall!”
“I love you, Braden. I will love you forever. I will come back to you.”
She was soon cold in the thin dress. And the upperworld sandals were not meant for rocky paths. She kept repeating over and over,
But she had no plan. It was madness to think she could destroy Siddonie alone, even with the Amulet.
Never had a journey seemed so long. She was very cold, and grew despondent. On and on down the rocky path, longing to turn back and be in Braden’s arms. Longing to forget Siddonie and the war, and knowing she could not.
Even if she turned back, she would not be safe. Nothing would ever be safe.
When at last after long hours she saw the green light beyond the tunnel mouth she ran. She splashed through the stream into the full green glow of morning—and came face to face with a saddled gray gelding. He shied at her and snorted, backing away within his spell-tether. She stood in the mouth of the tunnel looking for his master.
This was not a horse she had seen in the stables or pastures of Affandar. And his saddle had not come from the palace—it was an elven saddle, square and plain. Seeing no one, she broke the spell, snatched up his reins, mounted, and headed for the palace. She didn’t care where he had come from. If Affandar was already at war there wouldn’t be a horse left anywhere.
In sight of the pale wall she pulled up the gelding to a walk. The pasture was empty. There was no sound from the palace, and no person visible. No smoke rose from the chimneys. She could see no movement at the windows, no one in the gardens. She tethered the gelding by the wall, not wanting him trapped in the courtyard, and she slipped through the side door into the scullery.
She found the scullery deserted, the cookstove cold. No food had been left on the counters. She searched the main floor chambers; the corridors echoed with her footsteps. Every room was empty. She went into the courtyard; and there, from a side door she saw Terlis and Briccha gathering vegetables in the garden. When Terlis looked up and saw her, the pale girl moved behind a row of bean vines and slipped away from Briccha. Soon a side gate flew open into the courtyard and Terlis was hugging Melissa. Melissa was surprised at how glad she was to see the child. She clung to Terlis almost desperately. How thin Terlis was, and how dark the shadows under her eyes.
“It’s been so long, Melissa. I knew you would come today, the Harpy said you would. I’ve watched all day for you.”
“Was it she who left the gray gelding?”
“Yes, he was the last decent horse and he wouldn’t have been here, except a deserter came home. The Harpy was here last night. She terrified me—I’ve never before seen a harpy.”
“Are we at war? Has the whole palace gone to war?”
“Yes. It’s strange for the palace to be so empty; most everyone rode out with the army.” Terlis shivered, and Melissa saw in her eyes the same fear of war she had seen in the faces of the rebel families: a fear of the loss of home and sustenance, loss of a way of life.
