Slight and Shadow (Fate's Forsaken: Book Two) (41 page)

Chapter 38

The Sowing Moon

The day passed miserably. The guards hauled Declan and Kael into the dungeons and locked them up inside a dampened cell — along with what appeared to be the cell’s previous tenets.

Apparently, Ludwig wasn’t the only captive that Lord Gilderick had forgotten about.

Kael swept the pile of bones to the side so that Declan would have someplace to sleep. Then he paced furiously inside their little cell, wondering what sort of horrible punishment Gilderick had planned for them.

An hour or so later, Declan finally woke. The thin burns that crisscrossed over his face and limbs weren’t too blistered, and it made Kael wonder if Hob hadn’t hexed him to sleep. But he was too angry to bother finding out.

“Why did you follow me?” he snapped, after he’d given Declan a very rushed explanation of what had happened to them. “Was it really so blasted important to find out what I was up to? You should’ve just trusted me! I hope you’re happy, because now we’re both trapped.”

Declan didn’t seem too concerned. He touched the burns on his face gingerly, wincing. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself — I knew it was you all along.” When Kael looked surprised, he broke out in a rare grin. “Seventeen years pass without trouble, and then this wee little mountain rat shows up — and suddenly the whole under-realm is clawing its way out to greet us? You weren’t exactly sly about it. No, I knew it was you. And after what you did for Brend, I
mostly
trusted you. But I’m a curious fellow. I just followed you out to see how you’d done it.” He leaned forward, and still grinning, he said: “Now that we’re both dead men anyways … I don’t suppose you’d tell me?”

Kael glared at him. “No. And I’ll take it to my grave, Horseman — just to spite you.”

But instead of putting him off, this only made Declan smile all the wider.

There were no windows in their tiny cell, and therefore no way to guess how much time had passed. Kael tried to sleep, hoping that sleep would make the night come faster. But no sooner had he drifted off than a loud, booming noise startled him awake.

It was deep, like the call of thunder, and the ground trembled a bit as the noise faded. Kael leapt up and peered beneath the crack of the cell door. A few pairs of monstrous feet passed by, but they seemed to be in no hurry.

“What
was
that?” Kael murmured.

Declan didn’t look too concerned. “Oh, the Baron’s probably just blasting himself a new mine. He does that every now and then — he’s always digging for his clodded jewels.”

Kael hoped that was all it was, but he wasn’t sure. His worry kept him awake, and his rump started to go numb from sitting on the stone floor. It was actually a welcome relief when the guards came for them.

The cell door opened, and Kael recognized the giant named Dingy standing on the other side. “Here,” he said. He shoved some object roughly into each of their hands and then chased them out with the sharp end of his pike. More guards waited for them on the other side, and they herded them quickly down the hall.

The things Dingy had given them were satchels, the same rough-spun pouch that the giants used to plant their fields. Kael slung one over his shoulder and reached inside. In place of seed were a handful of dirt clods. Each clod was about the size of his palm. Some felt as if they had nothing in them, while others sat heavily, as if they were made of stone. He thought one might’ve felt strangely warm — almost hot.

He held the clods up to Declan, who shrugged. And then very suddenly, Dingy’s hand clamped down upon his wrist.

“Don’t you even think about it,” he growled. “You put those back and don’t let me catch you reaching in there again.”

And because there was a pike digging uncomfortably into his middle, Kael did as he was told.

The guards hauled them out of the dungeons, through the dampened hallways, and stopped abruptly at the keep’s front doors — the doors that would lead out into the courtyard. Kael couldn’t see over the bodies in front of him, but he could hear Dred’s voice booming clearly from outside:

“… you know the rules — this is your chance to climb the ranks, blisters! The last giant standing will earn himself a higher spot in His Lordship’s army. And if there’s a tie … you all die!” There was a thunderous roar of approval from his audience and for a moment, Dred’s voice was swallowed up.

Kael could hardly believe what he was hearing.

“We aren’t going to be slaughtered,” Declan hissed to him. “We’re going to be given a chance to fight.”

Darkness began to creep over his eyes, and Kael knew he’d have to think quickly. He didn’t know what the clods in the satchels were for, but he didn’t think this was going to be a normal sort of fight. If Declan went berserk, he might very well get himself killed.

“No, it’s not a fight,” Kael said, grabbing him by the shoulder. “Look at me. This isn’t a fight — it’s a game.”

Declan looked confused. “A game?”

“Yes. They call them the Sowing Moon
games
for a reason.”

“But you heard them out there. They mean to kill us —”

“But in a clever sort of way,” he reasoned, gesturing at his satchel. “These aren’t your average weapons, are they? Of course not. And that’s because we’re not going to fight for our lives — we’re going to
play
for them. Just follow my lead,” he added, with what he hoped was a reassuring smirk. “I happen to be pretty good at games.”

Kael had enough time for one deep breath before Dred cried:

“May the best giant win!”

The keep doors burst open and the guards shoved them outside. Kael stumbled into the courtyard to a thunderous roar of jeers. He couldn’t believe how much everything had changed: the ramparts were packed like tavern benches, hosting what must’ve been nearly every member of Gilderick’s army. The guards held tankards and thick legs of meat in their hands. They roared at him through their full mouths.

Lord Gilderick and Countess D’Mere were seated on the lowest rampart, poised in the exact middle of the courtyard’s arc. Gilderick sat stiffly in a high-backed chair. He had a plain white handkerchief pressed over his nose and mouth — and wore a look that made Kael think he might’ve gotten a whiff of the latrines. Beside him, Dred stood with his pike clutched warily in his hands. D’Mere’s twin guards stood unmoving at her back. There was no sign of the dark rider.

“What’s this clodded madness all about?” Declan shouted, trying to raise his voice above the cheers.

Kael looked where he pointed and saw that the whole yard had been transformed — from an empty plot of dust, to something that looked a bit like a battlefield. Boulders and debris were scattered across it, and most of it was too tall for Kael to see over. The towering obstacles were bunched so closely together that they formed something like a maze.

“What are we supposed to do?” Declan said. He spun around in a tight circle, as if he expected to be attacked from behind.

Kael wasn’t sure. He glanced all around the maze. Then a flash of movement caught his eye.

A guard sprang out of the rubble and clamored to the top of an overturned wagon. He carried a shield and wore a satchel across his chest. When he spotted Kael, his face twisted into a wicked grin. He reached inside his satchel.

A dirt clod flew out of the maze and struck him in the head. His eyes widened and froze. A patch of gray spread from where he’d been struck, down the side of his face and across his limbs. Half a blink later, he’d been turned completely to stone.

The crowd cheered.

When a second guard leapt out of the maze, Kael didn’t have time to think: he grabbed a clod out of his satchel and hurled it at the guard. It flew in a straight line and likely would’ve landed true, had the guard not caught it on his shield.

For a split second, the shield turned to stone and the guard struggled to hold it up. But with a crack and a burst of light, the stone fell away, leaving the shield smooth once again.

“They’re enchanted!” Declan hollered, his eyes wide.

The guard laughed at the stunned looks on their faces — then he made his throw. Declan grabbed Kael around the middle and hurtled himself behind the nearest boulder. A burst of fire erupted behind them.

“What do we do —?”

“Just keep moving!” Kael said over the top of him. “I’ll figure something out.”

Magic —
why
did it have to be magic? Kael’s heart pounded as they ran. Even though the clods wouldn’t hurt him, he still couldn’t risk being hit. Once the spells touched him, everyone who wasn’t blind would know that he was a whisperer.

His only chance to stay alive was to keep moving, and hope that the guards would eventually kill each other off.

They weaved a dangerous trail through the maze, never once pausing for a breath. Kael tried to listen for footsteps at every corner, but he couldn’t hear anything over the roar of the crowd. And to make matters worse, the guards on the ramparts began to help the ones in the arena, pointing excitedly every time they spotted Declan and Kael.

Once, they took a bad turn and wound up nearly running into a guard from behind. He spun and threw blindly, but the clod slipped out of his hand. It burst on the ground between them, and a cloud of green smoke erupted from it. Kael shoved Declan back, lodging him safely behind a massive crate.

“What
was
that?” he gasped, wiping the dirt from his sweaty brow.

When the smoke cleared, Kael leaned around and saw the guard lying motionless upon the ground. His skin was swollen and green. His chest didn’t rise. “It must’ve been poison,” Kael guessed. “Better hold your breath the next time we’re thrown at.”

Declan nodded. “Sounds like a fair plan to me.”

Kael leaned back against the crate, his mind spinning. The crowd was already pointing them out to whichever guard was on their trail, and he knew they’d have to move soon. He watched the eyes above them, watched where they pointed and how they gestured, and it wasn’t long before he figured out their plan.

“They’re trying to trap us,” he groaned.

Somehow, they’d wound up inside a narrow passage, one so packed with debris that it formed something like an alleyway. Judging by the crowd’s excited shouts, one of the guards was already upon them. They’d have to try to outrun him.

“Come on!”

Declan was still panting from their latest sprint, but he followed Kael stubbornly to the alley’s end. That’s when Kael realized that he’d made a second mistake: the only way forward was around a sharp corner, down a passage that elbowed out into the open maze.

There was no telling what awaited them around the corner — though he couldn’t help but notice that the crowd above them had gone strangely quiet. They sneered down at Kael, and sat purposefully on their hands. It was very likely that a second guard was waiting to ambush them at the elbow.

Light flared up over Declan’s shoulder. The guard who’d followed them down the alleyway had been creeping up on them, and he’d chosen that moment to attack. But fortunately for Declan and Kael, he missed.

Though
un
fortunately, the fire that burst from his clod caught viciously onto the wooden debris — and within seconds, the whole passageway was engulfed in flames. The guard swore and stumbled backwards to safety, but the damage had already been done: they were trapped.

Their only way out was around a corner that would almost certainly lead to an ambush. The fire’s voice roared in their ears, the flames raced closer.

“We have to move —”

“Wait!” Kael grabbed Declan before he could bolt around the corner. “Not that way.” He thought hard, and an idea suddenly came to him. “Lift me — do it quickly!”

Kael stepped into Declan’s palms and the giant hoisted him above the wall. The crowd shouted in warning, but it was too late. Kael spotted the guard who’d been crouched, waiting for them at the opening. And he threw a clod at his back.

Blue lightening devoured him before he even had a chance to scream. He fell out of his armor in a pile of ash, and the wind scattered his pieces.

They burst from the alleyway, narrowly escaping the flames. The crowd booed as thick black smoke trailed up from the fire. It swelled to fill the air and blocked a good portion of the arena from view. Kael’s eyes streamed against the fumes, blinding him.

He tried to follow Declan, but it wasn’t long before he got lost. He went around the next corner at a sprint — and ran straight into a thick patch of smoke.

He gasped. The burning tendrils shot up his nostrils, doubling him over when they struck his lungs. He coughed madly, heaving — trying to force the smoke out. And while he struggled to breathe, a pair of rather large hands clamped down on either side of his head.

Kael’s feet left the ground as his body was hoisted into the air. He hung by the weight of his neck; his arms were trapped over his head. He kicked out behind him, but his heels struck uselessly against an iron breastplate. A voice blasted across his ears:

“Come out, Declan Battle-Mad!” the guard said mockingly. “Come face me, you filthy blood-bather. Or I’ll snap your rodent’s furry little neck!”