Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Lachlan, no!” Carys shouted, but it was too late.
The prince had lunged forward into a circle of light that illuminated the center of the clearing, going on immediate offense as his bronze sword clashed against stone.
“What are you doing?” Duncan shouted as he lunged forward.
Before he could enter the circle of light, Angus put a hand on Duncan’s shoulder and yanked him back. “Not for you, Brightkin. Your brother has accepted this challenge. The old laws demand that he finish it before another can face the Green Man.”
Duncan paced, raking a gloved hand through his hair, the axe swinging uselessly at his side.
Though the Green Man had appeared sluggish before, he now possessed preternatural speed, blocking Lachlan’s every strike so smoothly he hardly appeared to be moving at all.
It was as if Lachlan was fighting a statue, only every time Carys blinked, that statue was in a different defensive position.
Laura ran to her. “Does Lachlan have a death wish or something?”
“I don’t know.” Carys’s heart was racing. “Maybe.”
It was the last thing she would have thought three days ago, but three days ago Lachlan didn’t know his wife existed in the otherworld, that she’d been taken to Annwn where warriors who died in battle sometimes wound up.
Oh Lachlan.
Cadell was circling the duel, his body moving in a reptilian crouch as the fire at his throat grew hotter and brighter. Nêrys, what is this place?
Carys looked around as Lachlan and the Green Man continued to fight. “Angus called it a pocket world.”
Indeed, though the forest around them looked like any forest in any place, the air itself was laden with power.
When Carys looked at Laura again, she saw the tattooed lines on her friend’s chin were visible, as if the magic of this pocket world had soaked into her very skin.
Carys looked down at her own hands and saw faint lines along her fingers, the tips of which appeared to have been dipped in blue ink.
Her mind flashed to her mother’s hands.
Her hands. Her mother’s hands.
Blue lines tracing down the center of her fingers.
Were her mother’s hands tattooed?
She could no longer remember her face. When she thought of Tegan’s face, another layered over it, a mirror image of herself.
…here. What is he doing? What did you let him do?
A familiar voice was whispering furiously in her mind again.
Carys answered without a second though. I didn’t let him do anything. He just charged in!
Such a damned fool.
Lachlan spun around, trying to surprise the old god, but the moment he spun, the Green Man shifted and was already blocking the prince’s blow.
…the best dualist in Alba.
What? Carys frowned, trying to focus on the voice.
He thinks he’s the best dualist in Alba.
Is he?
Perhaps.
Cadell stood straight and threw his shoulders back. “Seren?” He scanned the tops of the trees, took a massive breath. “Seren?”
Lachlan’s attention was caught, and he stumbled, looking at Cadell.
“Lachlan, on your left!” Duncan roared.
He brought his blade up just in time to block the strike from the stone sword, which broke in half with a great crack.
The Green Man’s weapon in pieces, Lachlan tucked his shoulder, rolled to the right, and landed on his feet with his blade poised at the neck of the ancient forest god.
“I win,” Lachlan panted. “Yield.”
The Green Man’s eyes narrowed on Lachlan, and then he angled his shoulders and sliced through his own neck while Lachlan stood frozen.
The moss-covered head thunked to the muddy ground and rolled across the sunlit clearing while the Green Man’s massive body collapsed into a pile of leaves, bark, and vines.
Naida woke with a gasp.
“Fuck!” Duncan yelled, his hands going up as if warding off whatever disaster Lachlan had just unleashed. “What just happened?”
“No.” Shock stole Carys’s breath. “No. He can’t…”
“Oh my god.” Laura kept repeating it. “Oh my god. Oh… Oh my god.”
Lachlan’s eyes were wide as saucers as he stared at the pile of scattered vines that had made up the body of his opponent. His entire body was frozen.
“I asked him to yield,” he whispered. “I only asked him to yield.”
Angus leaned on his staff, his face screwed up in annoyance. Then he walked over and poked the mossy green head with the tip of his walking stick.
Carys winced. “Angus, maybe don’t—”
Her voice was cut off by a burst of low, hearty laughter from the head on the ground. “The looks on your faces!”
Laura sat directly on the ground, and Carys watched with fascination as the sticks, the logs, the vines and the leaves slowly knit themselves together again.
A fresh green hand reached out, grabbed the head from the place where it lay at Angus’s feet, and lifted it, plopping it back on the shoulders made of bark and twisted vines.
Lachlan looked like he might faint.
“That was seriously fucked up,” Duncan muttered.
“As fine a duel as I’ve had in many years!” The Green Man landed a great slap on Lachlan’s shoulder, which seemed to knock the prince out of his stupor. “Come then and let us share a meal, friends.”
Lachlan lifted a trembling finger. “I gave you a touch. That was all. You’re the one—”
“Who sliced off my own head?” The Green Man grinned, and his teeth were sharp white stones that resembled his sword. “But what a fine laugh it was, eh?”
Lachlan didn’t seem quite as amused as his opponent.
“I’m Jack of the Woods, and I’d be honored to make the acquaintance of a such a fine group of travelers.” Jack swept an arm out, motioning toward a break in the trees. “Come with me. You look hungry.”
Laura leaned over toward Carys and spoke in a low voice. “Is this forest god making a giant pot of ramen in his cauldron?”
“Pretty sure that’s a yes,” Carys whispered.
They were sitting in a cozy house that was apparently still located in the pocket world because Laura’s tattoos were still visible, Carys’s fingers were still blue, and Cadell looked feral but still couldn’t shift.
“I do not like this.” He stood by the door, glaring at Jack, who whistled as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
Which, honestly, was probably true.
Jack’s cottage was a mishmash of ancient and modern. It was round, made of wattle and daub with a thatch roof and wooden beams crisscrossing overhead. There were bright open windows letting in light from all angles.
Which… didn’t make sense. Light couldn’t come in from all angles.
There were posters of bands and several framed photographs of a red-haired man who looked a little like Jack standing beside large trees.
There was also a corkboard where various pictures were tacked up.
The red-haired man with women. With men.
With groups as large as five or six who all appeared to be fawning over him.
“You get a lot of company out here?” Carys scanned the corkboard, wondering if that was Jack in the pictures. Perhaps, like Cadell or Godrik, he could transform into a more human skin.
“Oh, I’m not lonely if that’s what you’re wondering.” The cauldron Jack was puttering over sat in a large hearth where a cooking fire was burning and a kettle was steaming. “Who likes noodles? I like these noodles very much.”
Angus grunted. “I’ll have some.”
“Knight?” Jack pointed at Lachlan. “Noodles for the victor?”
Lachlan’s court training suddenly woke. “Of course. Thank you.”
One by one, everyone except Naida agreed that they would love what appeared to be slightly watery ramen.
“So you just live here in Sherwood Forest?” Duncan was leaning against the curved wall. “I’m not going to lie—I’d be looking round here for your merry men if I didn’t know better.”
Another great burst of laughter from Jack, who was definitely still dressed in leaves and bark, though the longer they sat around his fire, the more his visage appeared human.
“You wouldn’t be the first,” Jack said. “Now, technically speaking, I’m a forest ranger.”
“You’re a forest ranger?” Laura was staring. “Like, you go and clear trails, guide tours, things like that?”
“Do you think they’d let me live here if I didn’t?” Jack said.
“I am so confused right now,” Laura muttered.
“Jack loves a joke.” Angus’s voice was testy. “Which explains the duel. But come now, Jack. You can’t be surprised that the gods appointed a hero. Not when the old girl’s running around in the Brightlands, undoing all our work in Briton.”
“Undoing what?” Jack asked. “My gates are secure.”
“Surely you’ve seen a few odd things. Heard rumors.”
“Maybe she’s just having a bit of a go right now,” Jack said. “No harm done, is it?” Jack chuckled. “A bit of magic isn’t a bad thing.”
“But it’s not just magic,” Carys said. “She’s calling sea monsters up rivers. She’s casting enchantments over Brightkin and letting imps attack children in parks. She’s trying to break open the gates so more magic can come through.”
“We were attacked by redcaps in the woods behind my home,” Duncan said.
Jack tsked but said nothing as he stirred the soup.
Angus leaned back on a wood-framed chair with a red-and-white blanket lying over it. “Jack, it can’t be allowed. Epona’s daughters were keeping her in the Shadowlands for a reason. Remember the last time she got loose?”
“That war was hundreds of years ago, and it was decades in coming,” Jack said. “All she did was prod things on a bit.”
“And do you think it’s wise to let her roam free now? When she’s raising barrows and calling up monsters? She’s planning something, and you’re feeling it too.”
Jack narrowed his eyes.
“I haven’t seen you take that form in few centuries, old man,” Angus muttered. “Something has changed, Jack. Even you have to admit that.”
“And if she did change things?” Jack nodded at Carys. “Why stop it, girl? Why not let people remember what magic could be?”
Carys glanced at Cadell. “Listen, as much as I love my dragon, I don’t think it’s a great idea to give modern human rulers a living weapon of mass destruction,” she said. “I don’t think dragons would want it either.”