Among the Unseen Read Online Free PDF Page A

us,” she said. “You said you knew the Merrow. Of all the Unseen, they are the closest to our kind. Perhaps they will be able to send help.”
    Irial nodded and stood up shakily. “Be well, Syrna,” he said. “And thank you for your kindness.”
    “Good luck,” she whispered, before slipping back out into the darkness.
    Part of him wanted to just stay in bed, to let them find him and do whatever they wanted to him. But he forced himself to stand up and dress. He crept out of the cabin, glancing over his shoulder at the dark waters of the Atlantic. He would have to cross the island, swim to the mainland, and then travel south along the coast to where the Merrow had their underwater kingdom. It seemed like an impossible journey in his weakened state. But the only people here who could help him were human, and he had sworn to stay away from them. He followed the dirt road that cut through the island, which was divided into tiny square fields by a giant checkerboard of ancient limestone walls. He occasionally stopped to rest on one of the low walls, which had marked property boundaries in these parts for centuries. Cottage lights winked at him, taunting him with the promise of comfort, but he gritted his teeth and carried on, trying not to think of the warm welcome he would receive from a human woman. He cut through a stony field to avoid a house by the edge of the road and collapsed against a large granite boulder that seemed as out of place in these parts as he did. As he struggled to catch his breath, a gray mare, ghostlike in the moonlight, sauntered up to him from across the field.
    “Hello, beautiful. I don’t suppose you’d let me ride you?” he whispered sardonically. To his surprise, the mare sank down on her front knees and prodded him with her muzzle. Irial stared at her for a moment, and then grabbed a fistful of mane and hauled himself up onto her back.
    “Need to get to the Merrow,” he murmured, not sure if she could understand him. He knew they needed to go east to cross the island, but she was taking him north. He tugged on her mane to try and direct her, but she just snorted and continued on her chosen path. He gave up. At least he wasn’t walking anymore. He held on tighter as she started to canter, jumping the low rock walls that were meant to contain her. Then they started to climb, and he realized she was heading for the ancient stone fort that stood in a semicircle on the edge of the island’s westernmost cliff. He shuddered. Was she going to throw him off? The mare carefully maneuvered the rough steps that led to the prehistoric fort, keeping to the well-trod human path. The fields surrounding the ancient stronghold were littered with razor-sharp chunks of limestone that had been embedded in the ground like a sea of spears with the express purpose of discouraging any attack made by horse.
    When they reached the top, she stopped, and he slid from her back into a heap on the ground. They were surrounded by a great curved wall on three sides, the fourth open to the chill air and a three-hundred-foot drop to the ocean waves that crashed below. The wind ripped through him like a thousand knives, and he curled into a ball. The mare prodded him again with her muzzle, and he stood reluctantly, trying to use her body to block the wind. “Why are we here?” he asked. And then he saw it.
    “A púka,” he breathed. The púka was in his horse form, a majestic black stallion, with a gleaming coat and eyes of red fire. But the fire in them had dimmed, and the púka lay on his side, his breathing heavy and labored. His flanks were covered in patches of white foam; his mouth was lined with dried blood. Irial looked back at the gray mare, who was nervously pawing the ground.
    “I’m a friend,” he said to the púka. “Can you speak? Can you take another form, perhaps?” The púka just looked at him out of dim red eyes filled with fear and panic. “This isn’t right,” Irial muttered as he ran his