The dungeon guards muttered complaints under their breath, but none of them spoke up.
The royal guard huffed angrily. “Well, there’s nothing to be done about it now, short of postponing the execution and all the celebrations that have been planned around it. Get him up and bring him down into the courtyard. And make sure you gag him. We don’t want him whistling any of his black magic.”
The wrenching inside Finn’s gut seized him with pain. He cried out as two guards grabbed him by each arm and lifted him. Another guard came from behind, hooked a rag in his mouth and tied it tight.
“Are there no priests to walk with him to the gallows?” one of them asked.
The royal guard shook his head. “Not for this one. The king will not be giving him a chance to save his soul before he goes.”
The guard gave Finn a pitiable look. “Sorry for you, mate.” They dragged him down the stone steps. Finn tried to stand between them but his legs trembled and gave out beneath him. Unable to hold his head up any longer, he rested his chin on his chest as they carried him through a long corridor.
The sounds of the crowd outside the castle walls filtered in, bursting in volume when the guards pushed past a heavy door and hauled him across the mud to some wooden steps. As soon as they reached the top of the platform, the noise from the crowd grew louder. Finn raised his head, squinting into the sunny day. His eyes ached from the bright light after being kept in darkness. He blinked, focusing his bleary vision on the huge courtyard filled from wall to wall with people. They must’ve come from every region of the kingdom. Thousands of angry faces stared back at him, yelling curses and shaking their fists.
From the moment they’d first woken him, he’d been numb to what was happening. But being surrounded by a mob radiating absolute hatred had unearthed the terror he’d been stifling during his incarceration. He’d hoped to escape this by some miracle, but the mouse had obviously failed to find Sithias in time. The grim reality finally hit him. He was about to die.
He could handle this, at least a little better, if the last face he saw was Fate’s and not a multitude of hostile people.
The guards locked the shackles on his feet to an iron ring and pushed him to his knees in front of the chopping block. The wood was dark and polished. The deep gashes marking the flat surface between the two hollows where he was to lay his neck had been washed of all blood and gore. Plainly, the executioner took pride in keeping the tools of his trade clean. Hopefully he could count on his blade being sharpened to a razor’s edge. History books were full of grisly accounts of an executioner’s dull blades and the need for multiple strokes before severing the head. The thought of a clumsy execution made Finn sick with fear.
Wanting to look anywhere but at the vicious crowd, Finn lifted his gaze to the clear, blue sky. If they hadn’t tethered his manacles to the platform, he’d try flying into that beautiful sky, even though that would be just another death sentence. The parapets were lined with Asgar’s best. He wouldn’t get past the castle walls before he was taken down with a shower of arrows.
He dropped his gaze to the balcony decorated with Asgar’s royal blue banners. King Tynan stood there, stiff and staring coldly down at him. Kaura was there too. She gave him the slightest nod, but nothing more, lest she draw her husband’s attention.
Finn fixed his gaze on the wooden planks of the platform. A red rose landed in front of him. He would’ve expected maggoty meat before he’d believe a flower had been thrown at him. He glanced down at the front row.
Standing dead center, just below him, was Fate. Deep down, he knew it was the Lhiannan Shee, but he didn’t care. He’d gotten his wish. Her face would be the last image he saw before he died. Nothing else mattered anymore. The knifing pain in his belly waned as a sense of calm took over. He could carry on now, and die with what little dignity he had left.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs behind him. The executioner had arrived. He took his place next to Finn, towering over him with a face hidden behind an iron mask covered in spikes. Finn couldn’t see the man’s eyes. They were cloaked in shadow, no doubt a purposeful design to hide his humanity and make him all the more terrifying. Finn conceded it was working. Terror seized hold as he dropped his gaze to the enormous axe the man carried in one hand.
A much smaller man moved in beside the executioner and faced the crowd. He appeared to be some sort of scribe, because the crowd grew quiet as he unraveled a scroll. “We present the Unholy Piper to the people, who has been found guilty by the high justice of King Tynan for the murder of Empress Moria. Having found this sorcerer of black magic to be against all laws of the Asgar Empire, my Lord has decreed and given sentence that he shall be condemned to death by means of decapitation.”
The scribe turned to Finn. “Are you ready to give your judge thanks and absolve his majesty of any guilt the endorsement of this violent death may bring him?”
The question shocked Finn. Fear made him want to curse the king and every single soul who’d come to watch this barbaric act. The instinct to survive made him want to rail against them, to destroy them. But he’d been down that road. It was best he didn’t have the strength or means to invoke the elements to bring down an avalanche of pain on these people. He couldn’t risk the destruction of his own soul all over again. Other than Kaura, none of them knew the truth. He could never make them see Moria for the evil snake she was.
Desperate to be thrown a life ring to keep him from drowning in an ocean of panic, he looked down at Fate’s face. She smiled and mouthed the words, I love you.
Grief welled in his throat as tears blurred his vision. He wanted more than anything to hold her, to kiss her, to stay with her.
Disgruntled sounds rippled through the crowd and someone close to the platform yelled, “Do this one decent thing, would ya!”
Finn tore his gaze from Fate and looked at Tynan. The executioner bent to remove the gag. “One whistle, or whisper of the wrong word, and this axe comes down faster than you can blink,” he warned.
Finn nodded as the man pulled the gag down below his chin. “I forgive the king for making the only choice he could,” he said as loudly as his parched throat would allow.
The executioner stuffed the gag back in his mouth.
“Noted.” The scribe penned the words onto the parchment. He then held the scroll high again to quiet the people and repeated Finn’s forgiveness for everyone to hear.
Tynan nodded and the executioner stepped into position with his axe held high. “Place yer neck on the block, lad. Make sure yer chin hooks over the other side. My aim’s always swift and sure. It’ll be over quick. I promise you’ll never feel it.”
Finn’s breath came in ragged bursts as he did as the executioner instructed. With his heart pounding violently, he fixed his gaze on Fate’s face. She stared back, and as she held him locked within her soft brown gaze, he was able to fully surrender himself to the end of his life.
28
Holy Skyscraper, Batman
A RENEWED SENSE OF purpose propelled Fate out of bed, despite the stomachache and foggy head she woke with. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed to share her thoughts and feelings about Finn. And Jessie was the only person in the entire universe she was comfortable confiding in. Having her best friend back made facing the trouble ahead so much easier, especially now that she knew Jessie could take care of herself, and anyone else, for that matter.
She only wished she wasn’t so completely exhausted.
After pigging out all night and talking well into the morning, they’d finally passed out on top of the giant bed, until the chamber robot alerted them it was time to wake after only a few hours of sleep.
Jessie yelled and beaned the robot in the head with a well-aimed pillow.
“Come on, Jess.” Fate slipped her armor on. “I want to talk to Farouk before the others show up for the strategy meeting.”
“Can we cancel the meet?” Jessie whined as she sat up and rubbed her tummy. “I’m not combat
ready. I’m bloated and ready to blow chocolate chunks.” She stood. “Do I look like I gained five-hundred pounds? Because I feel bigger.”
“You’re skinny as ever. And no, we can’t cancel. Scavengers wait for no one. Unlike us, they can overeat without suffering next-morning-bloats.”
Jessie rolled out of bed with her hair matted to one side of her face and staggered toward the bathroom. “I hate you.” She closed the door.
“Love you too,” Fate called after her.
A few minutes later, Jessie reappeared in the room with water dripping off the end of her chin. She looked a little more awake as she trudged over to the door. “What do you need to talk to the furball about?”
“Go get your gear on. I’ll explain on the way.”
She patted her belly. “Sure, as long as I can wedge my armor on over my food baby.”
•
Farouk’s slanted fox eyes gleamed with doubt and amusement. “You believe you met Wodrid?”
“Well, met is too civilized a word for what happened between us,” Fate said. “We duked it out over the Rod when I was trapped in the Book of Fables. And I’m pretty sure I won the skirmish by slicing off his leg.”
“Ouch. And ew!” Jessie grimaced.
“Don’t feel sorry for him. It was either me or his leg.”
“You say this memory surfmerged during your illusionation yesterday?” Farouk asked.
Fate nodded. “Which means Wodrid was in Oldwilde at the same time I was there. But I have this sneaking suspicion he’ll figure out I escaped the Book of Fables–if he hasn’t already–and the next place he’ll look is the bookstore back on Earth. Once he goes there, it’s just a matter of time before he ends up here.”
Farouk worried the end of his tail, a nervous gesture that made Fate all the more anxious. “No one can open the portal without the Key, and the Key is here.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. Have you forgotten the Golandon records you gave me? Wodrid was Kaliena’s lover. He’ll do whatever it takes to restore her, and to do that, he needs the Rod and Orb of Aeternitis.”
“Thousands of years have passed since Kaliena went into stasis. Wodrid cannot have lived this long. He is not neverendless.”
“He’s a sorcerer, isn’t he?”
Farouk nodded reluctantly.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but life extension is one of their specialties, is it not?” Farouk’s silence sealed her point. “Plus, if pointed ears mean anything, he’s of the elvish kind. According to Tolkein, elves are long-lived and as close to immortal as you can get. Right, Jess?”
“Absolutely.”
Farouk squinted at them both with annoyance. Then he shook his head, the points of his horn-shaped ears drooping ever so slightly. “Even if he remains alive, Wodrid has no way of entering the Keep. Every portal entrance is virtually unyeildable.”
Fate sank against the wall with a huff of impatience. “When was the last time you watched the Golandon records? Ten thousand years ago? Kaliena imprisoned Wodrid because he figured out a way into the Keep without an invitation. Don’t you remember? That’s how they ended up having that long, dragged out Stockholm syndrome romance. And do I also need to remind you he’s the one who cursed the Book of Fables? He’s the reason readers like me were trapped inside the book and forced into changing the endings of those horrible stories as the only way to escape.”
“Wait, who’s Kaliena?” Jessie asked, looking totally lost.
“Long story. Remind me to tell you later,” Fate said.
Farouk frowned at Fate. “Who told you Wodrid cursed the Book of Fables?”
“An old druid priest, named O’Deldar.”
“I know that druid,” Steve said as he swept into the sanctuary, his coat tails swishing. When he spied Fate, he tipped his top hat and gave her a smile that held a bit of a smirk.
“Oh really?” Fate looked him over. His long dark hair seemed extra sleek, and his eyeliner and black lipstick were applied perfectly. She hadn’t bothered with makeup since she’d first been trapped inside the Book of Fables. Steve certainly appeared to be adapting well to life in the Keep. Why did that bother her?
“Does that surprise you?” he asked.
Fate detected a challenge in his expression, and for the first time, she noticed flecks of frozen ice reflected in the bright blue of his irises. Uneasiness rippled along her spine.
Steve laughed. “Don’t look so shocked. I came across O’Deldar’s name in one of the books I was going through earlier.” His gaze dropped to Fate’s throat as she swallowed nervously. “Is there something important about him? Say the word and I’ll keep digging.”
“No.”
He continued to stare at her with something akin to disdain. Had she offended him?
“Aren’t you supposed to be in the library with Eustace?” She hadn’t seen her father since last night after Farouk had healed her wound. Eustace had begged her not to go on the next mission. They’d argued and she’d told him not to come to the sanctuary in the morning to say goodbye. His fear for her was undermining what little courage she possessed.
“He sent me to see you off and report back. He’s nervous.”
Guilt nagged at her. She hated causing her father undue stress. “Tell him not to worry. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure you will.” Steve started to leave, then stopped. “But just in case, is there anything you’d like to leave with him? Something of value you wouldn’t want to lose out there?”
She frowned. “Like what? My credit card and last fifty bucks?”
“Well, the Rod for one.”
Distrust squirmed in Fate’s stomach. “How do you know about the Rod?”
Steve shrugged nonchalantly. “Came up in conversation with your father. He isn’t very comfortable with you carrying it around.”
“At last, someone else other than me is talking sense.” Brune entered the conversation as if she’d been in the room the whole time. She marched over to a row of guns and ammo belts.
Agitation skimmed along the edge of Fate’s nerves. Was this some sort of tag team effort involving Brune and Steve? And what of Eustace? Was he in on it too?
No. Her father may have disagreed with her decision to continue wearing the Rod around her neck, but she didn’t believe for one second he would gang up on her with Brune and Steve. “No, you can tell Eustace the Rod stays with me,” she said, staring at Brune.
Brune returned Fate’s hardened gaze. “Don’t worry, Steve. If she kicks it out there, I’ll make sure the Rod comes back with me.”
Feeling fed up, Fate put her back to both of them, grasping at anything to change the subject. “Does anyone know how Mason’s doing?” she asked.
As if on cue Darcy, appeared at the door. Unlike Steve, who seemed to be thriving since they got there, Darcy looked wrung out. Her eyes were red-rimmed and sunken within the shadows of dark circles, not that the heavy Goth makeup helped. “Guess you wouldn’t know, since you haven’t bothered to come to check on him.”
“That’s my fault,” Jessie jumped in. “I kept her busy with way too much girl talk last night.”
“How’s he doing?” Fate asked, her tone sheepish. They both knew she should’ve paid Mason a visit already.
“He’d be better if he wasn’t stuck on this hunk of metal with two broken legs and cracked ribs.”
Brune snorted. “Hey, it’s better than dead.”
Darcy’s mouth fell open. “You’re heartless. All of you. I hope you die out there!” Turning sharply, she rammed into Lincoln on her way out.
He regained his footing with a look of confusion. “What’sh with her?”
“Mason, of course,” Fate said.
“Useless sentiment, is more like it.” Brune focused on the gun in her hand.
Lincoln ogled Brune as he ambled over to her. “You’re a real hard candy. I like it. Let’sh me know there’sh a shoft gooey shenter in there.”
Brune pointed her gun at his gut. “How about I e
xpose your soft gooey center to the outside?”
He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Chill, girl. Jusht havin’ fun.”
“Have fun on your own time. Everybody load up.” Brune gestured toward an arsenal of unusual looking guns with flared barrels. “I want two ammo belts per person. We’re going to need all the cartridges of deducting fluid we can get out there.”
“What’s this stuff do?” Jessie asked.
“Instantly turns metal into a cloud of rust,” Brune explained. “And we’ll need to come at it from all sides. The scavenger’s quadrupled in size since yesterday. To put that in terms you’ll all understand, it’s as tall as a two-hundred-story building.”
“Holy skyscraper, Batman,” Jessie said. “Will our packs even fly that high?”
“No, Robin, we’ll need the Bat plane for thish one.” Lincoln bumped fists with her and they laughed.
Brune shoved her gun in her holster. “Go ahead, joke all you want. We’ll see who’s laughing after one of you loses a limb. Or your life.”
The laughter dwindled.
Fate adjusted the ammo belts on her shoulders and picked up her aeronaut pack. “You ready for this?” she asked Jessie quietly.
Jessie stuffed cartridges into the barrel of her gun and cocked the hammer. “Locked and loaded. How about you?”
Fate grabbed a gun, twirled it on her finger and holstered it, surprisingly smoother than she expected. “Five by five.”
They both grinned and high-fived each other, having rehearsed moments like this since they’d first started playing make-believe together.
“Line up, everyone,” Brune ordered, popping Fate’s bubble.
Time to face reality.
Farouk guided his cage over to stand next to Brune. “You are about to face the largest scavenger ever docuscripted within the Keep.” He punched buttons on his control panel, which generated a 3D image that hovered in the center of the sanctuary.
Fate's Keep (Fate's Journey Book 2) Page 21
