Page 63 of Valour

Hester shook her head. Couldn’t let him order her around. “No.”

“You’ll get frostbite. Don’t be stubborn.”

“Well, you’d better come inside if you don’t want me to get frostbitten, hadn’t you?”

He clenched his fists, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “I don’t care if you get frostbite.”

“Alright. Let’s see about that, shall we?” Hester lay down on the snow. The wind was picking up, pinching at her cheeks and nose. She pulled her scarf up over her nose, and the dogs stood over her, wagging and licking at her. Snowball started to whine more incessantly, her tail between her legs.

“Even your dog thinks you’re being idiotic. Go inside.”

Hester closed her eyes and pressed her teeth together to stop them chattering.

Septimus let out a frustrated snarl and shut the tent flaps.

Was this such a good idea? She had been fairly sure he’d cave before now, and her fingers and toes felt…well, she couldn’t feel them. She could no longer stop her teeth chattering, and the wind was rising, snow starting to fall, the white flakes swirling all around in a mesmerising dance. The minutes stretched out until she lost track of time.

She blinked once, twice, and on the third, the world shifted. The flakes of snow vanished, replaced by black ash floating down from onyx clouds. Grass met her fingertips, slightly damp. The cold wind had ceased, warmth caressing her cheek, the change in temperature stinging her skin. The smell of bonfires stung her nostrils. What on Earth was happening? Hester sat up quickly. Too quickly, the strange world spinning around her. A hand landed on her shoulder, and she looked into the face of the angel who had come to her when she had lain dead on the Intrepid’s deck. Angel, or…the winged being from Charlotte’s book of myths? The aquiline?

“No.” The woman’s face was aghast. “You cannot be here.”

Was she dreaming? “Where am I?”

“The underworld.” Tears brimmed in the woman’s green eyes.

“The—what?” Hester scrambled to her feet. “This cannot be. I didn’t—did I? Did I freeze to death? For that wretched man?” Her jaw hung slack.

More figures were approaching now. Some humans, but others were strange figures. Winged people. A person with no wings, but branched antlers sprouting from their head. One with pointed ears like a wolf, furry tail swaying gently behind them. Just like the people in Charlotte’s book.

Hester backed away. This couldn’t be real. Surely. “I have to get back. How do I leave?” Out of the corner of her eye, feathers gleamed, and a heavy weight hung at her back. “I cannot leave them. My crew. You don’t understand. Help me. Please.”

The winged woman said, “There is nothing you can do. You must hope that help comes from the other side.”

The other side. Septimus. Would he help her? Or would he still be sitting in his tent, ignoring her, while her body became colder and colder, frost creeping over her?

The green-eyed woman spread her wings and stepped closer. “He must not see you.”

“Who?”

“The Lord of the Underworld.” She turned to the gathered people. “Help me. I beg you. Once he sees her, he will keep her.”

A man with pale hair and wolf ears and tail stepped forwards. His leather coat bore a leaf emblem. “We will help.”

Hester wrung her hands together. “I have to wake up. Please.” Feathers rustled behind her head. Good Lord, she had wings, too. She stretched them out, then snapped them shut again. What was happening? Underworld. Wings. These strange people. Dead people. Hester’s throat constricted, panic lancing her heart. A dream. It had to be.

“He comes.” The wolf man looked over his shoulder, out into the wasteland.

The woman curled her wings around Hester, trying to shield her from view. “He will not stop hunting you. As a child you were meant to die, but my mother saved you and cast her protection over you until a few months ago when she was killed. In any case, Orcus believes your soul is his.”

“Tell me how to wake up,” Hester said, stepping behind the woman’s wings. It was all too strange to take in. She’d do anything to get out of this awful nightmare. Back to the Valour and Fliss and Charlotte, even Septimus.

The wolf man stepped forward, gesturing for the others to surround her. “Listen carefully.”

A cold voice boomed, “I smell a new soul.”

Hester stilled, her heart beating faster. It was the same voice that had spoken into her head twice before. The voice of the giant orca. She pinched her arm, desperate to wake. It did no good.

The wolf man spoke, “Take from Orcus a weapon that he has touched. It is the only way to harm him.”