Chapter 46 Rut and Rock
RUT AND ROCK
LIZZY
I stood on the front steps of Pemberley House, watching. The young princess was aiding her grandfather, the king, into a coach. The prince and a handful of his retinue milled outside another. They were so slow. Mrs. Reynolds had packed Nessy off with Lucy five minutes ago.
Mary strode up beside me. “Coaches can be seen from the air. The grooms are saddling every horse. We should ride to one of the Briton villages. The forest will screen us.”
“Take Georgiana and go,” I said. “Do not wait for me.”
Mary gave a scoffing laugh and set her feet. “We will all go together.” Softer, she added, “Are you able to ride?”
“I am very well. Every color shines and is extraordinarily pure. I have noticed a pattern to this disease. Before it rages back, the world turns to transcendence. For a time, every edge becomes the finest etching. Every stone becomes a jewel.” The effort of speaking made a burning twinge climb my spine. “Is that normal?”
Mary took my hand, her fingers very tight. “Yes.”
Darcy burst into view, galloping his gray stallion flat out along one of the narrow garden paths around the house. Five of the soldiers that guarded the royal family followed single file at a saner pace, all mounted on Pemberley horses.
His steed skidded to a gravel-spraying halt before the stairs where I stood. Darcy had a pistol and sword on his belt, and a hunting gun strapped to the saddle. He shouted to be heard over the clamor. “We are going to the cave.”
I ran down the steps. “You must not!”
He dismounted, the tails of his morning coat swirling, his boots landing as I reached him. He pulled me against him. “We must reclaim the dagger. If their wyfe loses control of Fènnù, they will attempt to flee. And if she keeps control, our lives depend on taking it from them.”
The first was true. The second was not, but he did not know my plan.
“Send the soldiers,” I said. “You do not need to go.”
“I know every rut and rock of those hills. We need speed. I am leading their best riders.” His head lowered so our faces were close. “Elizabeth, this is my duty. I will not shirk it.”
I reached with my mind, testing the black tether of the dosed wyfe’s control. Weaker. Not yet broken.
“Love,” I said, “do not approach the cave. Not until I send a signal.”
“What signal?”
“I will have Yuánchi fly to the cave mouth. When he flies away, you can approach.”
“Very well.”
“If you recover the dagger, destroy it. Promise me.”
Mary was a few steps away, far enough to be polite, but I knew she heard. She stiffened at my words but did not speak.
Darcy was grave and serious. At last, he nodded, then when I took a breath, his finger sealed my lips, stopping my next words. He spoke instead. “Do not say goodbye. Just know I love you.” He mounted the saddle in one swift motion and thundered down the road, the soldiers behind.
“You did not tell him why he should not approach,” Mary said behind me. When I did not answer, she continued, “I am not so dull that I fail to guess why you stand, watching and waiting.”
“I promised to defend Pemberley.” Standing high to watch a field of battle had summoned a hundred years of ancient calm. “Our plans are made. Our orders dispatched. The path of this battle is now determined by our enemy.”
The winter roads were damp, so there was no dust to reveal the horses.
I caught glimpses through the winter-thinned trees until they cut from the road to circuit the lake.
That shore was broken with ridges and cliffs, so they would ride in the forest, hidden.
Safer than here. How fast could Darcy circle the lake? Ten minutes.
Yuánchi hid in the skies above me, his circuits never the same twice. Only the silver trace of our binding revealed him. Not once had he shown himself to ordinary senses. Not a flicker of shadow. Not a wingtip.
Like a sunrise, golden radiance filled my mind. This was a force in the world of draca, unfamiliar and pure.
I shut my eyes, concentrating.
The black tether of the dosed wyfe had weakened to a flutter, pathetic as a dying bird. Now it surged, drawing taut like a rope anchored to the sky. The oily black churned and thickened, sucking in the golden purity I had sensed and corrupting it to evil.
This was new and strange. But that did not matter.
Yuánchi, I thought. Fly to the cave.
I have not seen Fènnù. She could be near.
We are not fighting her. We will free her. I will show you how. May I share your vision?
Beneath my closed lids, a fog of cloud appeared, streaming fast as he descended. The fog vanished to reveal the lake, colored cold and looking round as a huge wheel when viewed from so high.
My human ears heard the servants’ excited shouts as they spotted Yuánchi. Already his eyes had fixed on the cave mouth. At least I chose this before Darcy approached near enough to be in danger.
The view through Yuánchi’s eyes jolted crazily. His silver binding yanked desperately at my heart. Then his full senses slammed into me, blowing my fragile human perceptions aside like a leaf.
I was plummeting, driven down by colossal strength, my wings frozen with numbing black and crushed to my sides.
The underside of Fènnù’s black wing flashed past my eyes, then the black scales of her side.
Pain exploded as her claws tore me, cutting scale and muscle, but her grip was turning me also, purposefully, a spider turning a helpless fly.
The turning stopped with a massive foot before my face. The claws spread and struck. My eyes tore away.
Then there was not even the refuge of blackness. Sight became shrieking hues of pain, and I was falling, falling.