He quickened his pace. It was a short walk to where they left their horses. Lucien mostly kept to himself. Teelah, however, appeared to have warmed to Godfrey considerably following their shared ordeal in the barrow. The good-natured friar even shared his drinking horn with her in a sign of friendship. Although she showed no sign of thawing toward Berengar, she nevertheless agreed to help escort the king from the Elderwood in exchange for gold. That at least, he hoped, would keep her from making another attempt on Lucien’s life.
When they reached their horses, Azura offered a portion of the rations they took from Cobthach’s Hold. “I’m sure you must be hungry after your long rest.”
Lucien turned the food away.
“You would refuse my hospitality?” Azura’s smile fell.
“I’ve had enough dealings with treacherous fairies to know better than to accept a gift from one of your kind, girl.”
Azura’s amusement at his antics quickly faded. “You should choose your words more carefully. I am much older than you, my young friend.”
“I’m not your friend, monster,” the king snapped.
Morwen laid a hand on Lucien’s shoulder. “It isn’t wise to insult one of the fair folk, Your Highness.”
“Fair folk? Bah! Winged devils, more like.”
Azura’s eyes widened, and she bared her teeth as if a grave offense had been committed. “You wicked little imp.” Before Morwen could stop her, she snatched the rune of illusion from the magician’s staff and held it over Lucien. “Until you learn to act like a king, an imp you shall be.”
The king swallowed hard and took a step back. “Stay back!” He looked to Berengar and the others for support. “Keep her away!”
There was a flash of light, accompanied by a shriek from Lucien. The king checked himself before casting an angry gaze at Azura. “Ha! Your spell failed, fairy.”
Azura’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. “Did it?”
The king gave a start, and a barbed tail poked out from behind him. Lucien screamed as patches of brown fur covered him from head to toe and his pupils became slits.
Stunned, Morwen looked from Lucien to Azura. “You turned him into an imp.”
Azura doubled over in laughter, and it was Lucien’s turn to be unamused.
“Change me back! I order you to change me back!”
Azura playfully wagged a finger in his direction. “I’m afraid you’re the only one who can do that. You might start by behaving in a more kingly fashion.”
“So you can use magic without a wand,” Morwen said.
“I am a fairy, after all.” Azura invoked the rune’s power again to restore her human form. Only her pointed ears hinted she was more than she appeared. “That’s better. Now when we reach the town, I’ll fit right in. Can’t say the same for you, I’m afraid, Your Highness.” She tossed the stone back to Morwen.
“Morwen…” Berengar started.
“Don’t look at me. I don’t know how to lift the spell. It might play to our advantage. Cathán’s spies will be looking for the king, not an imp. Besides, it might teach the little brute a lesson. You heard what he said about my father.”
“Fine.” Berengar pulled a cloak from his bag and tossed it to Lucien. “In the meantime, I suggest you use this to hide that mug of yours.”
Lucien stared down at his fur-covered hands. “What? I command you to make her change me back.”
“I don’t take orders from you.” Berengar put one foot in the stirrup and swung himself onto his horse. “Now get on a horse before I bind and gag you.”
“Here, Your Highness.” Godfrey reached out to the king from his horse. “I am Friar Godfrey.”
“One honest man among you, at least.” Lucien shot Berengar a rueful expression and climbed onto the back of Godfrey’s horse.
The company started south. They reached the marsh’s edge as the last vestiges of sunlight ebbed. Night descended upon the Elderwood, and just when it seemed they would have to stop or risk losing their way, firelight glowed ahead through the encroaching darkness.
Smoke rose in the distance. “We’re close.” Berengar spurred his horse forward, and the others followed.
It wasn’t long before a town came into view. The frontier community was far removed from civilization, as if someone had taken an ordinary town and dropped it in the middle of a dense forest. No roads led in or out. Neither were there walls to keep out intruders, despite the proximity to the marsh.
“Halt!” The bellowing voice belonged to a night watchman at the town’s entrance. “Who goes there?”
Godfrey made sure Lucien’s hood was on before riding to the company’s head. “Greetings, brother. We’re only passing through, and we need a place to stay for the night.”
“It’s a late hour to be traveling about, especially in these parts.”
“We lost our way in the marsh. Where are we, exactly?”
“Newtown, of course.” The watchman raised his torch and looked at each member of the company in turn. His gaze lingered on Berengar’s sword a moment longer than necessary. “You’re a strange-looking group.”
“We’re monster hunters,” Morwen answered. “Sent by the church to deal with the increased attacks.”
At that, the watchman’s expression betrayed obvious relief. “Why didn’t you say so?” He stepped aside to allow them passage. “You’ll find lodging at the Gray Lady. The proprietor can point you in the direction of some work while you’re at it. There’s lots that needs doing around here.”
The company started down a soft dirt path. Bright moonlight peeked through gaps in the neighboring trees. A forceful wind shook dry leaves that joined piles of others below. Judging from appearances, Newtown probably had its start as a trading outpost, given the abundance of natural resources in the area. The church’s prominent location was the only sign that the town, which seemed to sit at the edge of the world, belonged to Leinster at all.
Despite the hour, a fair number of townspeople were busy about their affairs. Berengar kept his head down in case Valmont’s spies were among them. He slid from the saddle and fixed his horse outside the tavern, and the others did the same. Like Lucien, Teelah hid her face behind a hooded cloak. A scarf from Azura concealed most of her face, and the darkness did the rest.
After what he’d encountered in the barrow, Berengar was ready for a hot meal to fill his belly and a warm bed to lay his head, if only for a night. He stopped outside the tavern’s entrance and lowered his voice. “Remember what I said. Stay together. Don’t speak to anyone unless you have to.” He stared hard at Lucien to emphasize the point before venturing inside.
The tavern was more crowded than he had anticipated. The patrons—workers, mostly, unwinding after a day’s labors—were a loud and raucous bunch. Lively music came from a small band comprised of fellow patrons. Listeners gathered nearby raised their tankards and joined in a tawdry song. The display seemed unusual for rural Leinster, normally renowned for its piety. Then again, considering the danger in which they lived, the tavern’s occupants were hardly at fault for wanting to enjoy themselves.
Berengar advanced inside. Lucien and the others filed in behind him. In contrast to the Coin and Crown, the hall was dimly lit, and not nearly as clean. The song broke off, followed by a round of applause. Azura bumped into a musician and bowed by way of apology. When she came away, Berengar noticed the musician’s flute tucked away in her cloak.
The others settled at a table near the hearth while he sought the tavern’s proprietor, a stocky man who looked more than capable of settling disputes between patrons.
“My friends and I are looking for a place to stay. That’s them over by the fire.” He nodded in his companions’ direction.
“You’ll have to bunk together then. We’re not an inn. Our rooms are few.” The proprietor chuckled softly, amused by some private thought. “You’re in luck our last guest moved on. You’d have to settle for the stables otherwise.”
Berengar followed him a
cross the hall. “Do you get many travelers out here?”
The proprietor bent low to retrieve a room key from behind the counter. “More than you’d think. Mostly miners and woodcutters. Folk tend to move about in this part of the country.”
Berengar handed over the few coins he had left in his possession. The Acolytes had stripped his coin pouch with his armor, and his companions had little in the way of coin. The exchange left him nearly penniless, but at least they had secure lodging for the night. “Given the danger in the area, I’m surprised so many choose to live here.”
The proprietor’s mood quickly improved once the coins were in hand. “We must do our part for king and country, friend. Besides, there is a great deal of money to be made at the frontier, even if we have more than our share of hardship out here.”
“We saw Ferbane on our way.”
The proprietor let out a sigh. “Aye. A tragedy, it was. I had a cousin there.”
“Do you know what happened to the people there?”
“No, and I’m glad for it. I don’t want to dwell on the horror responsible. We tried sending a search party, but the area’s dangerous enough, and we’ve problems of our own. A fear dearg was giving the miners some trouble recently. Lucky for us, the warden was on hand to drive it off.”
Berengar stopped. “What warden?”
The question earned him a laugh. “The warden. Warden Niall, of course.”
“Niall was here?”
“Aye. Searching for the prince regent. Apparently, Prince Tristan’s in the area, though for the life of me I don’t know what would bring him all the way out here. If I had one-tenth of his gold, I’d never leave Dún Aulin.”
“What way was Niall headed?”
“West, I think.”
So Niall and Tristan were close. Before Berengar could process this new information, a commotion sounded behind him. He turned around in time to witness Lucien climb onto a table near the hall’s center. What’s that fool doing now?
The king kicked over several tankards in the process, spilling their contents over angry patrons. “Hear me, good people of Leinster! It is I, Lucien—your rightful king.” The hall’s inhabitants stared at him in complete befuddlement. Lucien pointed at Azura and the others. “An imposter has stolen my throne, and these rogues have kidnapped and enchanted me. I demand you seize and imprison them at once.”
The declaration was met by a round of deafening laughter. Across the room, Morwen buried her face in her hands.
“Get down from there!” someone shouted.
Another threw a loaf of bread at the king. “Cease your nonsense, boy!”
Lucien regarded them with a mixture of disappointment and irritation. Godfrey attempted to intervene, but the king persisted. “Very well. If it’s proof you desire, look upon the face of your king!” He threw back his hood to a collective gasp from the crowd. “There! Do you not see my crown?”
Azura roared with laughter. In place of Lucien’s silver crown, a thatch of twigs lay atop his head.
“What the devil are you? Some kind of half-breed hell spawn?”
Others beholding the king’s impish form quickly reached a similar conclusion. “Monster!”
Berengar pulled the king from the table and cuffed his ear. “Keep your mouth shut before you get us all thrown out of here, you insolent little whelp.”
“He’s the Bear Warden!” Lucien protested. “She’s a fairy, and she’s a witch!”
Patrons mocked the king with laughter. “If he’s the Bloody Red Bear, where’s his cloak and axe?”
Azura patted Lucien on the back. “Don’t mind him. He’s our imp. He’s got a fiendish tongue, especially when drunk, but he comes in handy tracking monsters.”
The tavern’s proprietor shook his head. “That may be, but we don’t allow his kind in here.”
Berengar released his hold on Lucien’s ear and shoved him toward the door. “As you wish.”
When Lucien refused to budge, the tavern’s proprietor seized him and dragged him away by his shirt. “Unhand me! I am your king!” The man ignored his protests, threw open the door, and tossed him outside. Lucien landed on his backside in the mud.
“I’ll see to him,” Morwen volunteered before a worried look crossed her face.
“What is it?”
She stared past him to the spot where a hooded figure had watched the spectacle unfold. “That man worries me. I sense dark intentions.” Morwen quickly averted her gaze, but it was too late—the stranger noticed her. He immediately began making his way through the crowd toward the back entrance.
Azura was already on her way after him. “Leave him to me.”
“Good. Meet us outside when you’re done with him.” Berengar motioned for the others to follow. Once they were out of earshot, he relayed what he had learned about Niall and the prince regent.
Teelah approached Lucien, who sobbed in the mud. “Are you alright?” Her voice contained a measure of pity.
He wiped his tears and looked up at her with red eyes. “You want to gloat, is that it? Come to mock the monster like the rest of them?”
“I know why you cry.”
Lucien fought back another wave of sobs. “Kings don’t cry. It’s not regal.”
“Now you know what it’s like to be called a monster. It hurts, doesn’t it?” Teelah hesitated and offered him her scarf. “For your tears.”
Lucien stared at the scarf with suspicion, as if afraid he was the butt of some joke. Finally, he took the scarf from her and blew his nose. “Thank you.” His words were so quiet they were barely audible.
Azura appeared, leading the stranger from the tavern at knifepoint. She marched him to the wood’s edge and waited for the others to join her.
“Good work.” Berengar loomed over the stranger. “You had better start talking.”
“It is you. The Bloody Red Bear.”
Berengar put his hand on the hilt of his blade. “Aye. And who are you?”
“No one of importance.”
“He’s lying,” Morwen said casually.
Azura knelt beside the stranger and looked him over in the moonlight. “I recognize his likeness. He’s a Brotherhood member.”
Berengar grabbed the man and shoved him against a tree. “What’s a thief doing in Newtown?” When the stranger failed to answer, he struck him hard across the face. “I can keep this up all night.” He peered deeper into the forest, where strange sounds echoed in the night. “Or perhaps we’ll just leave you in the marsh.”
That seemed to do the trick. “Wait! I was sent here for word of Prince Tristan. There are others throughout the Elderwood with the same task. We have orders to find you as well.”
Berengar pressed him against the tree. “Orders from who?”
“Bishop Valmont.”
“The Brotherhood of Thieves is working for Valmont?”
“Of course,” Azura said. “Völundr has them searching for the four jewels of the Tuatha dé Dannan. It all makes sense now.”
“What’s he planning?” Berengar demanded. He hit the thief, who laughed and spat out a tooth.
“You’re too late. We’ve located the other half of the cursed blade. Soon it will be in the Brotherhood’s possession.”
Before they could process the news, Morwen’s eyes widened in alarm. “There’s danger. It’s close.”
Berengar pushed the thief away and reached for his sword. The wind shifted, prompting a growl from Faolán. He glimpsed movement in the trees through the moonlight, and multiple eyes gleamed back at him in the darkness. Eight hairy, segmented limbs crept along the branches.
Morwen trained her staff on the trees. “Solas!” The lightstone glowed with white light, revealing a spider as large as Faolán.
The creature shrieked in response to the light. Before Berengar could react, it leapt from the branches onto Morwen. The spider pinned her to the ground and opened its mouth to reveal a set of venomous glands, and Morwen strained against the spider’s weight with he
r staff. The charms Azura had carved into the staff grew red with firelight, burning the spider. Morwen rolled out from under it and attempted to scramble away, but it scurried toward her. Just before it sank its fangs into her neck, Berengar drove his sword into the spider’s abdomen. When he pulled the blade free, blue blood covered the steel. Shrieking, the spider thrashed about and retreated into the woods.
“Are you alright?”
Morwen dusted herself off. “I think so. Where did the thief go?”
The man was gone. “Blast it! If he brings word to Valmont…”
Just then, all hell broke loose. Screams came from town as torchlight filled the night.
Berengar turned to face the town, where bells tolled to warn of the threat. “The people are under attack.”
Faolán, still facing the forest, continued barking, and Morwen’s lightstone revealed more spiders approaching through the trees.
“Go!” Berengar waited for the others to pass before sprinting after them.
Newtown’s inhabitants rushed to the town’s defense. Archers hurried up steps to man the church’s bell tower while laborers wielded their hammers and pickaxes as weapons. Any community living in the wilds had to be prepared to respond to potential raids at a moment’s notice. Berengar expected they had endured attacks before.
Watchmen shouted to alert the archers to spiders along the town’s perimeter. A few spiders made it past the volley of arrows that followed, but others shrank back, waiting. Black arrows streaked from the forest, and one of Newtown’s defenders toppled from the bell tower.
“Goblins!”
With the town’s archers distracted, the spiders advanced unencumbered. They crawled up buildings and forced their way into huts. Godfrey grabbed a torch and burned a spider’s carapace while Faolán kept another occupied long enough for Berengar to hack off its limbs.
Unearthly wails emanated from the forest. Ghostly figures glided into Newtown like living shadows. Spears and arrows thrown in their direction passed right through them.
Berengar turned to find one blocking his path. Its skin moved and flowed, and darkness swam in the spots where its eyes once sat. He tensed, bracing himself. Sluagh.
The City of Thieves Page 23
