The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [41]
The knight scowled at her, his mustaches twitching. “Do not try to distract me with idle flatteries, my lady. I can see quite well where you've led us, and I must say I am not pleased. This is a queer and perilous place, and while it is not for a knight to question his mistress, I must wonder all the same why you've brought us here.”
She gripped his hand. “I've come to ask the Little People for help.”
“My lady, you must do no such a thing!” The knight pulled his hand from hers, his brown eyes wide. “The Little People might have aided us in the past, but it was done of their own will and for their own purposes. Surely this is a dangerous scheme. We should return to the castle at once.”
She was not surprised by his outburst. Durge was a man of logic; he did not like meddling with magic. Grace understood how he felt, for she was a scientist herself. However, if she was going to face the Pale King and his army, she needed help from any source—illogical as it might seem. She moved toward the line of trees. Though they were bare, she could see no more than a dozen paces into the wood.
“It can't be so dangerous, Durge,” she said. “Otherwise, you never would have ridden through the wood that day over a year ago, and you never would have found me, lying there in the snow.”
Durge let out a foggy sigh. “That I came upon you here is something for which I will ever be grateful, my lady. Still, it is my duty to question this deed. Even that day I found you, I was riding only through the eaves of Gloaming Wood, following a game track no more than a hundred paces in. I could still glimpse the plains through the trees. If we would find whom you seek, we would be forced to venture deep into the forest, and surely it is impossible for mortals to go there.”
“No, I don't think so.” She touched the papery bark of a tree. “I think I've been in there once before.”
Durge gave her an odd look, and she thought of the time when she and Travis had gone looking for Trifkin Mossberry in Calavere. They had entered the little man's chamber only to find themselves, not in the castle, but in an impossible forest. Even then, with Trifkin Mossberry to protect them, she and Travis had not dared to linger. Durge was right; this forest was perilous for mortals. However, the Little People were trying to tell her something, and Grace was going to find out what it was.
“I'm going in,” she said, gathering her courage. “You can wait here with the horses.”
Durge gave her a sharp look out of the corner of his eye. “I should think not, my lady.”
Grace knew better than to argue. She took Durge's hand, and together they stepped into the wood.
As the trees closed around them, so did a quietness. There were no birds flitting among the bare branches overhead, no small animals scurrying through the underbrush. The only sound was the crunch of snow beneath their feet.
While it was dawn in the world outside, here it was as if the sun had not yet risen. The air was a misty gray, and the trees crowded together, so at first it was difficult to pick a route among them. However, they soon came to a path, most likely worn by deer and boar. As best Grace could tell, the path headed toward the heart of the wood, and they started down it.
“I do not like this,” Durge rumbled. “It seems too easy to come upon a path so quickly.”
“Maybe this is our lucky day,” Grace said. She was going to say something more, but their voices, low as they kept them, rang out unnervingly on the still air.
Durge shook his head. “Mark my words, this path is surely cursed. It will lead us down into a ravine, or over a cliff, or to some other unseemly demise.”
Despite her trepidation, Grace almost laughed. She knew it wasn't his intent, but somehow Durge's gloomy admonitions always seemed to cheer her up. She tightened her grip on his hand, and as they walked she tried not to think of fairy tales in which children met with bad ends in dark forests.
Soon Grace lost track of time. She