Slight and Shadow (Fate's Forsaken: Book Two) (39 page)

“If they were planning to escape, then why was the rat sneaking around your cottage?” Dred cut in. He jabbed Declan’s limp body with the butt of his pike. “And this one might not look like much, but he’s a killer.” Dred jabbed him again. “Yeh, and killing’s all he’s ever been good for.”

Kael felt his neck pop as Fink’s boot pressed against his cheek. “What
were
you doing outside my cottage, rat? You’d do well to tell the truth,” he added, unfurling his whip.

Kael couldn’t tell the truth — the truth would get them both killed on the spot. So he thought quickly. “You’re right. We
were
trying to escape,” he muttered, after a moment of frantic thought. “I only went to the cottage because I thought it was empty. I was looking for supplies.”

“I knew it!” Finks said triumphantly. He kicked a clod of dirt into Kael’s face before he spun away.

“We ought to take them to His Lordship,” Hob said, eyeing the castle. “Finks, you stay here —”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Finks said vehemently. “
I
caught the little beasts — and I’m not going to stand by while you take all the credit!”

“Well, seeing as how it’s
my
spell that’s got him bound,” Hob said, nudging Declan with his toe, “it’ll be me going up to the castle. I’ll be sure and put in a good word for you,” he added with a smirk.

The guards hoisted Kael and Declan across their shoulders and made for the castle at a march, leaving Finks alone to simmer.

As the first gray lines of morning crossed the horizon, Kael kept his eyes on Declan — who’d struggled until the spells finally burned him into passing out.

Declan knew that he’d had been hiding something. He’d known it all along. So he must’ve lain awake, waiting until Kael slipped through the roof. And then he’d used the rope to follow him out.

He wondered how many other nights Declan must’ve watched him. Perhaps he’d seen him leave every time, and wondered where he’d gone off to. Maybe he’d already figured out that Kael was the one responsible for the mages.

But if so … why hadn’t he stopped him?

They arrived at the castle gates a little before dawn. The towering front doors were already swung open. Each of its planks looked as if they’d been cut from the length of a single tree, held side-by-side with nails the size of Kael’s fist. The wood must have been a gift from the Grandforest: there weren’t trees that size anywhere in the plains.

A soft jingling noise and the patter of footsteps drew his eyes downward, and Kael saw that they were passing the Baron’s servants. The desert folk were clearly on their way out: the baskets they carried were now empty of gold and packed full of food. A few of the servants cast nervous glances at Dred, but they didn’t slow their pace. They must’ve been very eager to be on their way.

Kael caught the scent of fresh-baked bread as they passed, and wondered vaguely if Gilderick offered his victims a last meal. He seriously doubted it.

The castle courtyard was a wide, half-moon of dust. High walls encircled it, and they appeared to be several layers thick: three levels of ramparts were cut into the walls, and a narrow flight of stairs led to their top. The guards who watched the keep’s entrance sprang to their posts at the sight of Dred. The doors swung open, and they stepped inside.

It was surprisingly dark. Even though the weather had been warm for weeks, the air inside Gilderick’s castle was damp and cool — almost like a cave. The guards’ heavy footsteps pounded through the silent keep, past empty chambers and bare corridors. At last, they stopped at a room with a little light in it.

The guard carrying Kael dumped him onto the stone floor. His groans were cut short by a new voice:

“Why do you interrupt me?”

Whoever asked this question did so as if there was a tremendous weight behind it — as if just the asking was going to force him to do something that they would all deeply regret.

Dred’s massive shoulders stiffened. “We caught some of the beasts trying to escape, m’Lord”

Kael couldn’t help himself: he looked up.

They were in a wide chamber that looked a bit like a dining hall. There weren’t any decorations on the walls, no tapestries or merry paintings of feasts. There weren’t even any windows — just a few candles melting miserably in an iron chandelier above them. The only thing that made Kael think of a dining room was the long table in the middle of it.

Glittering plates covered its every surface, piled high with food that smelled so delicious, his nose struggled to take it all in. He tore his eyes away from the feast and saw Countess D’Mere seated near the table’s head. She picked halfheartedly at a plate of fruit with a golden fork. Even though she sat properly, her full lips were pulled into a sulking pout.

She obviously wasn’t happy about Sahar’s swift exit that morning, because it left her alone with the man at the head of the table — the man who must’ve been Lord Gilderick.

He was incredibly thin: the sharp edges of his cheeks cast a shadow down his face, and his spidery fingers sat curled on either side of his plate. He stared down at his meal, as if he was trying to will himself to scrape a bite onto his jeweled fork.

“Then why do they still have their heads?” Gilderick asked — again, like Dred was forcing him ever closer to the edge of a rather steep cliff.

“I thought you might want to,” Dred glanced at Countess D’Mere, who was suddenly watching in interest, “um, punish them yourself, m’Lord.”

“Ah.” Gilderick’s exclamation came out slowly, hissing as it crossed his tongue — like the first blast of air from an opened crypt.

His head began to rise, and Kael quickly looked at the floor. He remembered Jonathan’s warning all too well, and he didn’t want to get Declan into more trouble by meeting Gilderick in the eyes.

“Well, I suppose we’ve got a little time. We just started breakfast, after all. You haven’t killed that other one, have you?”

“No, I’ve only got him bound, m’Lord,” Hob chimed in. “He’s not going anywhere —”

“Get out,” Gilderick snapped, so suddenly that D’Mere jumped. “Go to the courtyard and prepare for the games.”

Hob bowed quickly. With a flick of his whip, he released Declan from his chains and then scuttled out the door.

“I must admit — I’m intrigued,” D’Mere said in the strained silence Hob left behind. She turned a lovely smile in Gilderick’s direction. “It seems the plains have been more exciting than you’ve let on.”

One of Gilderick’s spidery hands twitched in her direction. His voice warmed a bit as he replied: “Oh, this sort of thing happens from time to time. The slaves just need a little … reminder. Watch this.” There was a creak as he repositioned himself in his chair. “I wish I had more time to think … but with the Sowing Moon tonight, I haven’t got the time. Just the usual dismemberment, I suppose — and start with the mountain rat.”

“M’Lord —?”

“Do as I say, General,” Gilderick snapped. “Kill the rat, and then wake the second one. I do so hate to kill them in their sleep,” he said to D’Mere. “They go without a fuss, and it just doesn’t seem right. A man ought to have a chance to scream when he dies. Go ahead, General,” a gleeful darkness filled Gilderick’s voice, “and see if you can’t really get him to squeal.”

Before Kael could think to fight, four sets of hands latched onto his limbs, pinning him against the ground. Dred’s boot pressed down on his cheek. He squirmed furiously, but they held him so tightly that he couldn’t break free. He looked around as far as his eyes could reach, searching for some means of escape.

And that’s when he accidentally locked gazes with D’Mere.

She watched him curiously. There was a coldness in her eyes, a cool indifference. But there was also something else — a flicker between her brows that only seemed to deepen as she inspected him. Her gaze wandered the whole filthy, ragged, purple length of him before she finally leaned away, ducking out of his sight.

Kael gasped when he felt the sharp point of Dred’s pike digging into the fleshy part of his arm. He clamped his teeth down tightly, almost biting his tongue. They could saw him limb from limb, but he was determined not to scream. He wouldn’t give Gilderick a single ounce of pleasure —

“One moment, General.” Gilderick snapped his boney fingers together and the pike immediately relented. “The Countess and I have just had a rather amusing idea. Instead of killing these poor fools outright, let’s use them as fodder for the games.”

“An excellent idea, m’Lord,” Dred said with a bow, though he sounded as if he would’ve preferred an outright killing. “I’ll just lock them up until evening, then.”

Chapter 36

The Baron’s Castle

They walked until the mots’ domain ended, and then they had no choice but to climb through the troll tunnels.

“They’ve got a particular … scent, about them, don’t they?” Jake said. He stopped and pulled his journal out. “Would you say it was more
fetid
, or simply
pungent
?”

“How about
downright maleficent
?” Kyleigh said, holding her breath as she stepped over a suspicious-looking clump of rocks.

“It smells of death and dung!” Silas moaned. He shoved Jake forward with his elbow. “Keep walking, shaman. You’ll have time to scribble later.”

“
Death and dung
…” Jake made a few hasty notes before he clapped his journal shut and pressed on.

The small army of mots traveled far ahead of them. Kyleigh could see the bobbing light of their lanterns as they popped in and out of the tunnels, scouting for the safest paths. The trolls must’ve dug their passages in a hurry: they weren’t anywhere near as sturdy as the mots’ had been. Some portions were completely caved in.

Every time they passed a pile of rubble, Elena gripped the sides of her mask and pulled it tightly against her face. “How much further? I hate it here — there isn’t any air!”

“There is air enough,” Nadine assured her. “Though it is certainly not the cleanest I have ever breathed.” One of the mots called to her, and she broke from the main path, leading them down a much narrower tunnel.

Soon they were forced to walk one at a time, following the train of mots as the walls closed in. When Nadine held her lantern up, the rock took on a life of its own. Thousands of tiny gems glittered excitedly in the light, as if they’d been waiting since the dawn of the earth to show how they shined.

One vein to their right was particularly striking: it was made up of bright purple jewels, and their color gave the whole tunnel a soft, stunning glow. Kyleigh leaned in to look at them as she passed and was surprised to see that each one was almost perfectly square. Then the tunnel branched, and the purple vein went off in one direction while the mots stayed on the other.

“Huh, I wonder what gives them their shape?” Jake said. He stuck his head down into the purple tunnel. “Looks like there’s more back here. I wonder how far it — oof!”

He tripped over his own feet and fell hard, knocking into the wall. A rumble sounded above them, as if some great beast was about to burst from the ceiling and attack them. Then rocks came tumbling down.

“Get back!”

Elena dove into the tunnel, and the last thing Kyleigh saw was Jake’s spindly body rolling end over end as she knocked him aside. Large rocks struck the ground with a noise like a thunderclap, and everything went quiet.

Kyleigh shoved her way past Silas, and when she saw the debris, she gasped — accidentally inhaling a large cloud of dust. She had to cough several times before she could call out to Jake. “Are you all right?”

“We’re fine,” Jake grunted. The rocks had completely filled the tunnel’s opening: there was now a large wall between them, and Jake and Elena were trapped on the other side.

“Hold on — we’ll try to dig you free.” Kyleigh only managed to move one rock out of the way before three more fell on top of it.

Nadine grabbed her wrist. “You will bring the whole earth down on our heads! We cannot dig them free. They will have to find their own way out.” She leaned close to the wall. “Jake — there will be holes dug out of the tunnel in a few miles. The trolls will have dug them for air. Once you find one, use your magic to break it open and continue through the desert. We will meet you when we can.”

“All right, that shouldn’t be a problem,” Jake said.

Elena moaned. “A few
miles
?”

“Think of it as an adventure.”

“An
adventure
we wouldn’t be on, had you kept your long mage nose where it belonged!” Elena retorted. Their words grew fainter the further they walked, and soon Kyleigh couldn’t even hear them.

“They will be fine,” Nadine assured her. One of the mots shouted something from up ahead, and she cried out in surprise. “There is an exit — not three miles from us!”

“Good,” Silas snapped. He was trying to shake something foul off the bottom of his foot, but it clung on stubbornly. “The sooner we leave this wretched place, the better.”

*******

The exit the mots led them to was little more than a wide hole cut out of the ceiling. Even standing on Kyleigh’s shoulders, Nadine was too short to reach it. So Silas had to give it a try.

“Quit your wobbling,” he hissed. He dug his heels into her shoulders — a little harder than was probably necessary.

“Keep that up,” Kyleigh growled, “and we’ll see if you land on your feet.”

Silas chuckled as he balanced himself. Then he stood up.

“What do you see?” Nadine called to him.

“Patience, mot — the sun is too bright. Let my eyes adju — ah!”

Kyleigh stumbled forward as the weight suddenly left her shoulders. She looked up just in time to see a pair of dirty feet disappear through the hole. “Silas?” She felt along the wall, trying to find a ledge or a foothold, anything she might be able to use to climb up. But the wall was completely smooth. “Silas! Are you all right?”

He didn’t respond. She could hear muffled voices above them, and then the pounding of feet shook sand from the ceiling. Something dropped down into the hole, and she ripped Harbinger from his sheath.

“It is a rope!” Nadine said, stepping past her. She gave it a sharp tug, but the rope didn’t budge.

Kyleigh stopped her before she could try to climb it. “Wait — we don’t know what’s out there. It could be a trap.” She leaned back to look up at the hole, trying to squint through the blinding white of the sun.

A shadowy head popped into view. “Move your scaly hide, dragoness. You won’t find a cleaner way up.”

Now that she knew Silas was all right, Kyleigh felt a little easier. But she still insisted on going up first — just in case.

Once her head cleared the top of the hole, the sunlight nearly blinded her. They’d been underground for less than a day. But her eyes ached so sharply that she had to pause at the top of the rope to steady herself. She was feeling around for something she could use to pull herself free when a strong hand grabbed her wrist.

One man’s strength wasn’t enough to move her: it took several. Hands grabbed both her wrists, under her arms, the back of her jerkin — someone even snatched her belt. The hands dragged her roughly from the hole, and Kyleigh knew she could no longer afford to keep her eyes closed. She sprang to her feet and squinted against the searing light, forcing her eyes to adjust.

A ring of men stood before her. She saw the wraps over their heads and faces and realized with a jolt that they must be bandits. Harbinger shrieked as she drew him.

“Hold up, there! Don’t start chopping off our heads just yet,” the lead man said. She thought his voice sounded familiar, but it wasn’t until he pulled his wrap down and his bushy sideburns sprang out that she recognized him.

“Shamus!” She’s taken a step towards him before the realization hit her. “Didn’t I tell you not to follow me?”

“Oh, aye.”

“Then what are you doing here?” she growled.

His brawny shoulders rose and fell. “Well, we weren’t
going
to follow you — honest,” he added, when she narrowed her eyes. “You weren’t supposed to be gone but a week or two. And when you didn’t come back, well … the lads and I thought you might need rescuing.”

Kyleigh turned and saw there were close to forty men loitering behind him. Their blue eyes creased happily over the tops of their masks, and several of them waved to her in greeting.

She wasn’t amused. “You could’ve all been killed —”

“But we weren’t,” Shamus interjected. A wide grin stretched between his sideburns as he added: “And that’s not all — we’re keeping the Baron holed up inside his castle!”

When he stepped out of her way, Kyleigh couldn’t believe what she saw.

The tunnel path may have been dark and smelly, but the flat ground led them across the desert much faster than a path through the dunes. A few hundred yards away stood a monstrous fortress. It looked as if it had been carved straight out of the side of the Red Spine: the jagged teeth had been shaved down to form walls, and the sharp slope of its hills became thick, rounded towers. The keep’s face was all that was visible of the main castle — the rest of it must’ve been hidden inside the mountain.

A tail of the Red Spine wrapped around it, forming a natural outer wall. Two doors had been set into its craggy front, each one standing the height of a small house, and made of what appeared to be solid gold.

The last time Kyleigh had been in Whitebone, it was under the cover of night. She hadn’t noticed all of the fist-sized jewels set into the doors and along the walls. Now the sunlight glanced across them and blinded her with bursts of colored light. She could hardly get a good look at the ramparts, with the jewels blinding her.

And she thought that might’ve been the point.

“It was a great stroke of luck,” Shamus went on. “We’d spent days sacking the forts all along the Baron’s highway. Granted, there weren’t very many men on duty — but it was real delicate work. We couldn’t let any of those sandbeaters escape and run off to warn the Baron! After a few days of fighting in this blasted sun, we were nearly dead on our feet.” He beamed as he gestured towards the Spine. “Then we finally make it to the castle, and what do we see? The Baron, himself! He came right out of that pass over there and tried to sneak his way in, but we caught him —”

“Wait.” Kyleigh grabbed the front of his tunic, jolting him. “You say the Baron was coming
from
the plains?” When Shamus nodded, she felt as if the earth had fallen out from beneath her. “Then we’re too late! He’s already attacked —!”

“No, it wasn’t an
army
he had with him,” Shamus assured her, catching onto her arm before she could sprint for the Spine. “It was just a bunch of servants and a handful of guards. Gilderick must’ve been having some sort of party,” he mused. “Anyways, we attacked Sahar’s caravan just the second they popped out of the Spine. He got away, but,” Shamus grinned, “he had to leave all of his loot behind.”

She followed his gaze and saw another group of seas men standing guard over what looked like some sort of golden carriage. Packed inside the carriage were dozens of large baskets. And packed inside the baskets, tight to bursting —

“Food!” Silas moaned.

Shamus chuckled. “Aye, we’ve been feasting all afternoon. Go help yourself to the vittles!”

Silas didn’t need to be told twice.

Now that she was certain the way was safe, Kyleigh called down to Nadine, and told her to start sending the army up the rope. One by one, Shamus’s men pulled the mots out of the tunnel, staring openly at their short limbs. They seemed to be extra gentle as they helped them to their feet.

“Small folk, aren’t they?” Shamus said, watching as the mots joined Silas.

Kyleigh grinned. “Just stay out of spear’s reach, and you shouldn’t get hurt.”

Not surprisingly, the mots were thrilled about the food. But they didn’t attack it headfirst, like Silas did. Instead, they hefted the monstrous fruits and vegetables out of the baskets and brought them carefully to their noses, as if they weren’t sure what to do with them. Someone found a thick loaf of dark, rich bread, and their eyes lit up like jewels. They passed the loaf around the circle, smelling its crusted top and chattering excitedly to one another.

“They know they can eat it, right?” Shamus said.

Kyleigh shrugged. “I doubt if they know what half of it is.”

“Oh. Give that here, lass — and I’ll show you how to crack it open.”

Nadine handed over the melon she’d been inspecting and Shamus brought it down across his knee. The hard skin cracked and he pulled it apart — revealing the sweet flesh underneath. Then he showed the mots how to scoop it out with their fingers.

Nadine tried it first, and then the others dug in. They passed the halves of the melon around, taking small bites and grinning broadly as the flavor hit them. “I never knew food could taste like this,” Nadine said, licking the juice from her fingers. “It is even sweeter than wine!”

Shamus seemed to be enjoying himself as much as the mots. He happily answered their questions and showed them how to open some of the fruits. Then he sliced up the bread and passed around a basket of apples, chuckling as he watched them chew.

“Dragoness!” Silas had been busily digging through the baskets, searching for something. When he found it, he broke off a hunk and tossed it at Kyleigh.

She could smell it as it sailed through the air. Her mouth was already watering by the time she caught it: salted pork.

After weeks of stringy goats and tiny fish, she swore the first bite of pork melted in her mouth. Usually, salted meats were tough and made her tongue curl up. But this bit was different: the thick slabs of fat between the meat had been rubbed in a blend of spices that made it taste as if it was fresh — and hot off the roasting spit.