Tatterdemalion

his feet, dying. There was no fear in Jonas’s eyes, just a wild light as he lunged at Lindsay. He fell short on the first attempt, going down in the snow. Somehow, Dane’s bloody hand was clamped around his ankle,

but Jonas’s fevered eyes never left Lindsay’s face.

Lindsay threw himself out of reach, trying to keep his magic locked on Jonas through the pain of its

broke

and, as he fell, his magic snapping back to shatter his consciousness, he thought he saw someone standing

beyond Jonas.

The figure was dark and still and ominous like a spire against the pale sky. Help us. Lindsay tried to speak, to beg, for Dane if not for himself, but then everything went black.

“Such a little thing for so much fuss.”

Lindsay’s vision cleared like a veil was pulled away from his eyes, and he was looking up into an

ageless fae face framed by a fall of deep red hair. The man took his hand away from Lindsay’s forehead

and straightened, leaving Lindsay staring at the long expanse of his black robes. A snarling, feral noise brought Lindsay upright before he could think to move carefully so he didn’t make his throbbing head hurt

worse. He scrambled behind the fae man, almost falling again, shaking.

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Jonas was less than twenty feet away, pawing at the ground and tossing his head. He turned, on all

fours, snuffling the air wetly and licking as though to taste it. There was no light in his eyes, he looked empty. His gaze passed over Lindsay and the man as though they weren’t there at all.

“What…?” Lindsay’s voice was a thin waver.

“He can’t see you. This is the price for hunting in my forest.” Ezqel, it had to be Ezqel, held his hand

out to Lindsay without looking. “He will not dwell under any roof or know himself until he is found by one

who knows his true name.” The words sounded like more than words, like Ezqel was branding the world

with his will as he spoke.

Lindsay took Ezqel’s dry, strong hand and struggled to standing, looking for Dane. Lindsay expected

to see Dane getting to his feet, tossing back his hair. But Dane was still on the ground. The snow under him and behind him where he had dragged himself was full of an impossible amount of blood. He had his cheek

to the snow as though it were a pillow and his eyes were still open, fixed on some point in the distance. The wind tugged forlornly at his hair and coat, begging him to wake.

“No.” Lindsay clawed out of the pack that was weighing him down and dropped to his knees beside

Dane. “Oh, no. Dane,” he whispered brokenly, pushing damp strands of hair out of Dane’s face. “God,

Dane…” He stroked Dane’s cooling cheek, his eyes stinging with tears. He’d never lost anyone before. He

had no idea what to feel.

Lindsay had tried, but it wasn’t enough, not even when it mattered most—he was too broken. Dane

was dead. Lindsay’s mind could hardly bear the idea. It was too awful to contemplate that Dane was gone.

Lindsay bent to press a light kiss to Dane’s white, empty face. “I’m sorry, Dane.”

“Why apologize? All things live out their purpose.” Lindsay’s head jerked up and he stared at Ezqel

in horror. Still, there was regret in Ezqel’s expression. “I did not think this would happen so soon, that it would end this way. Come.” He gestured for Lindsay to move away. “I will carry what remains back. There

may be some use left in it.”

Lindsay flinched, but he backed off obediently, getting to his feet again. He didn’t know what to say,

what to do, so he stayed still and silent while he watched Ezqel gather up Dane’s body. His head hurt, his

heart hurt, he was shaking. But he had to keep moving. For Dane, who had brought him this far. Keeping

an eye on Ezqel, he backed away to pick up and put on his pack. After a moment’s thought, he found

Dane’s pack, as well, and took hold of it to drag it along behind himself. It was so heavy, Lindsay couldn’t lift it, but he couldn’t let it go.

Ezqel tugged Dane’s coat closed as he rolled him over, hiding the black and red ruin where his belly

had been, and picked Dane’s body up as though it weighed nothing. He slung the body over his shoulder

and straightened.

“Come,” he said again. “It’s growing cold.” He led the way toward the trees he’d come through,

where a path ran into the woods.

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Chapter Six

Lindsay followed blindly, lost in his own thoughts, trying to figure out what he could’ve done

differently to save Dane. The fact that Dane was dead kept slipping away from him, and his mind went

back again and again, as though it could correct an error and change the present.

Dane’s pack dragged sullenly behind Lindsay, wrenching at his arm and nearly bringing him to his

knees every time it caught on this root or that stone. Lindsay couldn’t bring himself to let it go. It might’ve had something important in it, but that wasn’t why. Dane’s clothes were in there, all of them soaked with

Dane’s scent, and maybe twined here and there with his long, black hair.

The path went places that were not the same as the landscape Lindsay had walked through with Dane.

He lost track of their direction by the first turn and hardly noticed how the path widened from a narrow scar in the forest’s flesh to a wide, smooth passage between looming trees.

Dane had spoken as though they were a day’s travel away, but before Lindsay’s pride gave out and he

begged Ezqel to stop, he realized that the journey was almost over. The air grew warmer and, at last, they

were walking up a stone path, under an iron archway, and into a sleeping garden. A hedgemaze hid the

extent of the garden from Lindsay’s view, but he could see the still, white forms of statues where the hedge opened into little alcoves. The statues looked so realistic and unique and human, for all that they were

marble, that Lindsay was filled with a dread certainty that they were not statues at all.

“We are home,” Ezqel said, without pride or enthusiasm, when they passed below another archway.

As if at his beckoning, a house stood there, like something out of a fairytale, and a man and a woman

waited for them at the door. The house seemed to exist inside a tiny oasis of warmth within the freezing

forest. There was green grass here, and roses climbed the trellises by the doors and windows. Lindsay was

shivering still, but by now, it was more shock than chill.

“You will go with Taniel.” Ezqel stopped on the path. Dane’s corpse hung over his shoulder, hair

trailing longer than the limp hands, swinging slowly. “I may see you before you sleep, but I think not, by

the look of you. Taniel will have questions for you, and you may bathe and eat in the meantime. Izia.” He

nodded at the woman. “Come with me. We will see if you can get any use of this thing.” With that, he took

a branching path that led around the side of the house, carrying Dane away.

Lindsay wanted to stop them, to make them bring Dane back. Dane wasn’t a thing to be made use of.

He wanted to protest or cry out, but he didn’t know how to do anything but be silent. Didn’t know how to

Tatterdemalion

do anything but do as he was told. And, like that, Dane was gone. The world closed over him and only the

heavy pack at Lindsay’s feet was left as a reminder that Dane had ever been there at all.

“Let me help you.” Taniel was tall and thin, with tawny skin, slanted, dark eyes and raggedly cut,