Ash and Holly came up beside me, one on either side. They loped along while I ran my fastest. They could have outdistanced me and gotten to the fight sooner, but they'd only obey the letter of our agreement. If I fought and asked for help, then they had to help me, but they didn't have to get to the fight one second before I did.
I prayed, "Goddess, help me and my allies to arrive in time to save my people." I felt someone pounding up behind us, but did not glance back - it was just one of the larger goblins.
Then hands, silver-grey in the moonlight. Before I knew it I was cradled against a chest almost as wide as I was tall. Jonty, the Red Cap, was ten feet of goblin muscle. He glanced down at me with eyes that in good light would be as red as if he looked at the world through a spill of fresh blood. His eyes were a match for Holly's. It had made me wonder if the goblin half of the twins was a Red Cap. The blood that dripped continuously from the cap on his head shone in the light. Little drops of it were flung behind him as he picked up speed and raced toward the fight. The Red Caps had earned their name by dipping their caps in the blood of enemies. Once, to be warlord among them you had to have enough magic to keep the blood dripping indefinitely. Jonty was the only Red Cap I'd ever met who could do the trick, though he wasn't a warlord, because the Red Caps were no longer a kingdom unto themselves.
Ash and Holly were forced to stretch to keep up with the much bigger man; Jonty was a small giant even among them. They had been in charge of this expedition, but goblins are a tough lot. If they let Jonty reach the fight first - if they showed themselves weaker, slower, than him - then they might not be in charge at the end of the night. Goblin society is survival of the fittest.
I cradled the gun carefully, pointing it away from Jonty. No one got ahead of us - no one else had the length of leg - and the others were fighting just to keep pace. Such a big creature, but he ran with the grace and speed of something lithe and beautiful.
I asked him, "Why help me?"
In his deep voice, like gravel, he said, "I swore a personal oath to protect you. I will not be forsworn." He leaned over me, so that a drop of that magical blood fell upon my face. He whispered, "The Goddess and God still speak to me."
I whispered back, "You heard my prayer."
He gave a small nod. I touched his face, and my hand came away covered in blood, warm blood. I cuddled closer into the warmth of him. He raised his eyes again, and ran faster.
Chapter 20
THE SKY BOILED WITH STORM CLOUDS OVER THE SMALL WOODS that bordered the parking lot. The wild hunt wasn't a tentacled nightmare anymore. It looked like a storm, if storms could hover against the tops of trees and drape like black silk dripping between the trunks.
Lightning flashed from the ground into the clouds - Mistral was still alive and fighting back. Who else? Green flame flickered through the trees, and something hard and tight in my chest eased - that flame was Doyle's hand of power. He was alive as well. In that moment nothing else really mattered to me. Not crown, not kingdom, not faerie itself; nothing mattered except that Doyle was alive and not so hurt he could not fight.
Ash and Holly put on a burst of speed so that they were ahead of Jonty and me as we neared the open area closest the trees. There wasn't enough cover to hide anything in the open field, until from thin shadows, goblins appeared. They didn't materialize, but emerged like a sniper hidden in his gillie suit in the field - except that the only camouflage the goblins had was their own skin and clothes.
Ash had called Kurag, Goblin King, as we ran to this place. To do so, he had bared his sword and put a hand on my shoulder to come away with blood to smear upon the blade. Blood and blade: old magic that worked long before cell phones were a dream in a human's mind. Personally I wouldn't have wanted to run on the icy road with a bared blade. But Ash wasn't human, and he made it all look easy.
Ash and his brother ran ahead of Jonty - whoever got to the rendezvous first would lead the goblins without argument. But I didn't care - as long as we saved my men, I didn't care who led. I would have followed anyone in that moment to save them.
One of the brothers fell to talking with the waiting force. It wasn't until the other brother got close enough for his eyes to flash crimson that I knew it was Holly come back to Jonty and me. Holly was struggling to breathe normally. Outrunning someone whose legs were almost as tall as he was took more effort than was pretty, even for a warrior as formidable as he. His voice held only a hint of the breathlessness that made his shoulders and chest rise and fall so rapidly. "The archers will be ready in moments. We need the princess."
"I am not much of an archer," I said, still cradled in the heat of Jonty's body, and the blood. The blood that flowed from his cap down to my body was warm. Warm as if it spilled from a freshly opened wound.
Holly gave me a look that appeared irritated even in the forgiving glow of moonlight. "You carry the hand of blood," he said. He let that anger that was always just below the surface for him fall into his voice.
I nearly asked what that had to do with archers. But the moment before I said it, I did know. "Oh," I said.
"Unless Kitto exaggerated what you did in Los Angeles to the Nameless," Holly added.
I shook my head, the warm blood creeping down my neck between my skin and the borrowed trench coat. The blood should have been disturbing, but it wasn't - it felt like a warm blanket on a cold night: comforting. "No, Kitto didn't exaggerate," I said. I didn't like that Kitto had borne tales to the goblins, but forced myself to accept that he was half theirs and still had to answer to their king. He'd probably had little choice in what he told them.