the centre of the pond. Jess scrabbled frantically, caught the trailing end of the halter and brought both ends up. She felt the horse tense beneath her and prepare to dive. Jess somehow fumbled the free end through the loop and pulled ashard as she could as the horse’s muscles bunched beneath her and it leapt forward.
In mid-leap the horse seemed to stiffen as it became aware of the thing round its neck, but its plunge into the pool continued.
Jess screamed once, felt blood running through her fingers as the thorns gouged deep.
Water closed over them. She held her breath, hands clamped on the halter, hauling on it so hard that it must surely break.
The water boiled around them. They were tossed over and over, insubstantial and powerless as bubbles.
Jess couldn’t hold her breath any longer. She was going to drown. She was going to die.
CHAPTER SIX
Jess opened her eyes to utter darkness.
I’m dead,
she thought.
I’m drowned and dead, floating in Roseroot Pool. What happens now? Can I feel? Can I move? What do I do?
She moved a hand experimentally and felt what seemed to be grass under her fingers. As she lay looking up, the darkness resolved itself into different shades, and she found she was looking at a night sky through a lacing of branches, black on black; no moon or stars in the land of the dead.
It was cold, being dead. The cold had crept through her flesh and into her bones, slowing her blood.
My heart’s still beating, even though I’m dead,
she thought.
And I still need to breathe. And I’m cold
.
She sat up, hoping that the land of the dead wasn’t going to be dark all the time. As if in answer to the thought, a light flickered and caught through the trees, a little way off to her right. It looked for all the world as though someone had just lit a fire.
Jess got to her feet, a bit unsteadily, and walked between massive trunks towards the light. There was a man crouched by the fire with his back to her, breathing on twigs and fragments of tinder to encourage the flames, adding bits and pieces to feed it. He didn’t seem to have heard her approaching, so she stopped and simply watched him.
In the shivering firelight, she couldn’t see much: dark clothes, longish dark hair. He half turned to reach for a branch as a resinous twig caught and spat flame, and she had a glimpse of his face in profile.
He was young. She hadn’t expected that. The flame died and he was lost in shadow again, still now, and listening. He knew she was there.
Jess stepped forward into the light and heard him catch his breath, then let it out slowly.
He was staring at her, his expression unreadable.
“Hello,” she said, for want of something better.
He didn’t answer, but his hand went to his neck, pulling at something.
Shivering, Jess moved closer to the fire, still looking at him. Above his tunic, his fingers tugged at something twined green and gold, black and brown, barbed with thorns, tight about his neck.
She felt as if all her blood had drained away through the soles of her boots.
“I’m not dead,” she said in wonder.
He stared at her, perplexed.
“No.”
“It worked.” She was talking to herself as much as him. “It worked.”
Suddenly fearful, she looked around.
“This is the Kelpie world?”
He started to nod, then stopped suddenly, hand going to his throat. “Yes. To you it is.”
“And you…” She pointed at his neck. “That… You… You were the horse?”
“Was… am…”
Jess’s mouth went dry as just what she had done hit her properly.
It worked. I’m in the Kelpie world. Oh no. What do I do now?
“Are there more of you?” she asked. Ellen had said the halter gave power over
one
Kelpie; this forest could be full of them, preparing to overpower her and free the horse-boy.
“Of course. But not here. Not just now.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” She took a couple of steps towards the fire.
The boy pulled again at the thing round his neck. Why did
In mid-leap the horse seemed to stiffen as it became aware of the thing round its neck, but its plunge into the pool continued.
Jess screamed once, felt blood running through her fingers as the thorns gouged deep.
Water closed over them. She held her breath, hands clamped on the halter, hauling on it so hard that it must surely break.
The water boiled around them. They were tossed over and over, insubstantial and powerless as bubbles.
Jess couldn’t hold her breath any longer. She was going to drown. She was going to die.
CHAPTER SIX
Jess opened her eyes to utter darkness.
I’m dead,
she thought.
I’m drowned and dead, floating in Roseroot Pool. What happens now? Can I feel? Can I move? What do I do?
She moved a hand experimentally and felt what seemed to be grass under her fingers. As she lay looking up, the darkness resolved itself into different shades, and she found she was looking at a night sky through a lacing of branches, black on black; no moon or stars in the land of the dead.
It was cold, being dead. The cold had crept through her flesh and into her bones, slowing her blood.
My heart’s still beating, even though I’m dead,
she thought.
And I still need to breathe. And I’m cold
.
She sat up, hoping that the land of the dead wasn’t going to be dark all the time. As if in answer to the thought, a light flickered and caught through the trees, a little way off to her right. It looked for all the world as though someone had just lit a fire.
Jess got to her feet, a bit unsteadily, and walked between massive trunks towards the light. There was a man crouched by the fire with his back to her, breathing on twigs and fragments of tinder to encourage the flames, adding bits and pieces to feed it. He didn’t seem to have heard her approaching, so she stopped and simply watched him.
In the shivering firelight, she couldn’t see much: dark clothes, longish dark hair. He half turned to reach for a branch as a resinous twig caught and spat flame, and she had a glimpse of his face in profile.
He was young. She hadn’t expected that. The flame died and he was lost in shadow again, still now, and listening. He knew she was there.
Jess stepped forward into the light and heard him catch his breath, then let it out slowly.
He was staring at her, his expression unreadable.
“Hello,” she said, for want of something better.
He didn’t answer, but his hand went to his neck, pulling at something.
Shivering, Jess moved closer to the fire, still looking at him. Above his tunic, his fingers tugged at something twined green and gold, black and brown, barbed with thorns, tight about his neck.
She felt as if all her blood had drained away through the soles of her boots.
“I’m not dead,” she said in wonder.
He stared at her, perplexed.
“No.”
“It worked.” She was talking to herself as much as him. “It worked.”
Suddenly fearful, she looked around.
“This is the Kelpie world?”
He started to nod, then stopped suddenly, hand going to his throat. “Yes. To you it is.”
“And you…” She pointed at his neck. “That… You… You were the horse?”
“Was… am…”
Jess’s mouth went dry as just what she had done hit her properly.
It worked. I’m in the Kelpie world. Oh no. What do I do now?
“Are there more of you?” she asked. Ellen had said the halter gave power over
one
Kelpie; this forest could be full of them, preparing to overpower her and free the horse-boy.
“Of course. But not here. Not just now.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” She took a couple of steps towards the fire.
The boy pulled again at the thing round his neck. Why did
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