The Realms Thereunder

3

“Think about it,” Freya said to Daniel and the knights. “The door-Nemain-why would you need them?”

“Need them?” asked Daniel. “What do you mean?”

“I mean-” Freya forced herself to slow down. “I mean, why do you have them both? If you have the amazingly complex door that’s almost impossible to open, why do you also need Nemain?

If you have a clever Faerie with razor-sharp nails that can move as fast as a cheetah, why do you need an enormous iron door?”

“So?”

“I don’t think it is a door at all. I think that it’s a fake. Everything here is for show. Nemain isn’t a prisoner-prisoners don’t keep prisoners. And anyway, he can leave through the ceiling, the tunnels we came through, or, even more conveniently . . .”

Nemain’s expression did not change; he just stared calmly at Swi?gar’s spear point in front of him, raking long, bony nails against the ground. The large knight tightened his grip on the weapon.

Freya moved to the door. “Ecgbryt, hold the door right here,” she said, tapping one of the larger wheels, “and give it a good pull- don’t turn it, just give it a firm pull.”

Swi?gar grabbed the wheel and pulled against it with all of his weight. It was a long moment before anything happened, and then, slowly and soundlessly, the whole door started to move.

“Yes!” Freya punched the air. “Ha!”

Daniel’s jaw dropped and his eyes bulged as he saw the complex mechanism move away from the large bolts, which were revealed to be just metal stumps set into the stone. “It was never even locked.”

“It didn’t need to be, as long as everyone assumed it was. All these poor people-we thought they were prisoners, but they were just part of the illusion.”

The next thing that anyone knew, Nemain was flying through the air towards Daniel, launching himself like a cat. Daniel registered the movement out of the corner of his eye and by the time he started to turn his head, Nemain was already flying towards him, his clawlike hands slicing the air in front of him.

Everything seemed to slow for Daniel. He tried to duck out of the way but could not move fast enough. He felt the burning pain of four razor-sharp fingertips rake across his upper arm. He screamed and fell.

He landed on the wooden bookrack, knocking it over and sending the enormous painted book crashing to the floor next to Nemain.

The Faerie shrieked in horror and rushed over to the book.

“You! You creased it!” Nemain picked it up, smoothed one of the bent pages, and shut it just as Swi?gar’s massive hand clutched him around the neck and shoulders. With a fierce and brutal violence, he slammed Nemain’s chest into the ground several times, the book bouncing in his hands. He was stopped by Freya’s shouting.

“No! Swi?gar, stop! Please, stop!”

Swi?gar relaxed his hold on the Faerie, who gave a whimpering moan and crawled back to the book. He drew it close to himself and curled up into a ball, whimpering slightly.

Daniel writhed in agony on the floor. He would have been crying out with pain, but he couldn’t catch his breath. His arm hurt terribly, and he was gripping it as hard as he could, not wanting to let go. He felt Ecgbryt’s hands pull his own away and tug at the cloth of his shirt, examining the wound.

Freya stood above them as Ecgbryt untied the strings on Daniel’s shirt and opened it slightly. He very carefully pulled Daniel’s arm out of its sleeve. There was starting to be a lot of blood. Ecgbryt took the water pouch from his belt and washed the arm. Daniel found his breath finally and let out a howl of pain.

Ecgbryt tried to sooth him with low words while giving his arm a few very careful prods.

“How is he?” Swi?gar asked.

“Not so bad for all of that. Do you hear, boy? You fought with one of the Tuatha De and will live to tell the tale. Not many can say as much.” He asked Freya to fetch a small tin from his pack that contained a poultice-a dry, mossy substance with healing properties. He laid that to one side and then pulled a small knife from his belt; he cut a long strip off the bottom of one of the oilcloth blankets, then he placed the mossy material over the gashes on Daniel’s arm and bandaged it up. “You know, ?lfred had his share of scars, and more besides. Did I ever tell you-?”

Ecgbryt’s voice dulled to a pleasant murmur as Freya turned her attention to Nemain.

“Don’t get too close to him,” Swi?gar said. His spear was in his hand, angled downwards once again at the creature. Freya stood just next to the knight and looked down at the Faerie who was sobbing quietly. She frowned at his pathetic shape, chewing her lower lip.

“I don’t think that you’re a bad person,” Freya said to Nemain. “You love the book because it’s beautiful, and it’s good to love beautiful things.”

She crouched down and spoke in a lower voice. “But Daniel is worth more to us than the most expensive book in the world, and you damaged him. I think you know where we’re going and what we’re trying to do. We’re trying to make sure that many more people are going to be safe from harm-we’re going to try to stop someone from destroying a lot more than just one beautiful book-we’re trying to save people. I don’t know why you would want to stop us from doing that.”

Nemain’s sobs stilled to a broken, jagged breathing, allowing them to hear Daniel’s gasps as Ecgbryt helped him sit up. Freya looked into the face of the Faerie for a little while longer and then stood. She walked over to the wall where the silent women were huddled. “You can leave now. The door’s open. Follow us, if you like.”

There was no response so she repeated herself with large gestures, and still there was no reaction to this news.

“Can they understand me?” Freya asked, turning to Swi?gar.

“Yes, but they will not listen. Come, let us depart. Their tale is not ended, and we can help them best by doing what we were sent to do.”

Freya joined the others at the door. Ecgbryt packed up his things, stowed his weapons, and then lifted Daniel to his feet.

Swi?gar backed away from the now shuddering Nemain.

As they stood in the doorway, about to pass into the large, dry tunnel behind it, they heard a hacking cough and the sound of a weak voice trying to be strong.

“Everything will be destroyed in time. Nothing lasts forever.

The only freedom is death-and the only escape is to hell!”