“On the other hand, if he’s not quite pie-worthy,” the scarred hogman went on, “he can be used as bait for something better. But we should be moving on now. We are directly beneath…”
He pointed upwards significantly. Hodge followed his finger, and then his mouth dropped.
“Dear me,” he wheezed. “I had not thought of it in all this excitement. But I do agree, it is time we hurried on.”
It must be the keep, Will realized. They’re afraid of whatever’s in the keep, like everyone else.
It occurred to him that this could be his best, if not only, chance to escape. If he could get away from the hogmen here, his friends might still be near by. Or he could at least find a way up into the keep, and the hogmen would not follow. But how to do it?
Then he remembered Pendrake’s tale of Conn the Clever, and he knew what he had to do.
“Right then,” said Hodge, rubbing his hands together. “Back into your commodious travelling case, little morsel.”
Summoning up all his courage, Will forced himself to smile. He leapt to his feet and clapped his hands.
“This is wonderful,” he said, as brightly as he could.
The two hogmen gaped at him, then looked at each other with blank faces.
“If you are really Hodge,” Will said, and then turned to the scarred one, “then you must be…” He raised his hands in a gesture that said the answer was perfectly obvious.
“You’ve heard of us?” the scarred hogman said, his snout wrinkling.
“Who hasn’t?” Will said with a shrug. He swallowed hard, aware that his plan hung by a thread until he had both of their names. “You mean to tell me you don’t know how famous the two of you are?”
Hodge, his mouth slack, started to shake his head, but recovered himself and snorted.
“Of course we know it,” he spluttered, and then cuffed his companion on the shoulder. “You hear that, Flitch?” he said. “Tuck said we were coming up in the world. He told us things would be different once we got to Skald. No more rubbish heap in a ditch for us, he said. We’re going to have a sewer of our own, a whole entire sewer, and then the Marrowbone brothers will get the respect they deserve. That’s what he said, many a time when things looked bleak. You cannot deny that is what he said.”
“Tuck was right,” Flitch said coldly. “But don’t forget I was the one who finally got us here, when you would have stayed cowering under a pile of abovegrounder trash.”
“Oh, now, really, brother…”
“That is how it was, brother,” Flitch said in a low, menacing tone. “If you remember.”
“Was it?” Hodge said, backing away. “Was it indeed? I must say I do not recall it quite that way, but I suppose… I wouldn’t positively assert that my memory is at fault in this matter, but you are of course entitled to your—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Flitch muttered, and his small, piggy eyes peered coldly at Will. It was clear that he was not as entirely taken in as Hodge. Will knew that he would have to work quickly.
“The Marrowbone brothers at last,” he said with a bow. He had no idea who this Tuck was, but he had to proceed with his plan, and hope for the best. “Hodge and Flitch, in the … flesh. Just when I had given up hope of finding you.”
“Finding us for what?” Flitch asked.
Will put his hands on his hips.
“To challenge you, of course. To mortal combat.”
The trolls turned to look at each other, then broke into snorting, choking fits of laughter.
“I think our friend here is a little cracked,” Flitch sneered.
“Indubitably, brother,” Hodge spluttered. “Or perhaps the poor diet up there has withered his wits.”
“Not at all, gentlemen,” Will said with a smile. “When I heard that in this city lived the two most feared and respected of …” He paused, considering that hogmen might have a more complimentary name for themselves. “… of their kind, well, I simply had to come here and see for myself. And it wasn’t easy tracking you down, let me tell you. The mere mention of your names was enough to send most folk running.”
He was sure the foul reek coming off the brothers was just as likely to cause such a reaction, but kept that thought to himself. Hodge’s gaze was stunned and far away, but Flitch’s eyes had not left Will.
“And just who are you?” he said slowly.
“Me?” Will said. “Why, my name is … Sir William of the … Seven Mighty Companions. Tamer of the wolf and … friend to the raven. I’ve crossed the Haunted Forest, the Bog of No Return, and the Lake of … Swords to be here today.”
The hogmen exchanged dubious glances.
“Tamer of the…” Hodge muttered nervously, his eyes darting around.
“Yes, and here I am at last,” Will quickly went on, “even though my friends begged me not to come. They warned me that this time I would finally meet my match. They even made bets about which of you would be the bigger challenge. Some said Flitch was the one to worry about, but most said Hodge was the serious contender.”
“They said I was…” Hodge burst out, spittle flying from his lips. “They said I was the what?”
He didn’t wait for an answer but cuffed his brother once more on the arm.
“Did you hear that, my dear Flitch?” he wheezed. “The serious contender.”
“I heard it,” Flitch said sourly. “That doesn’t mean it’s true, does it?”
“But what about our brother?” Hodge said, his brow wrinkling and his eyes beginning to glisten with tears. “What did they say about Tuck?”
“Well, of course they said … he was…” Will began, hoping desperately for inspiration.
“Tuck led us well,” Flitch interrupted, “until the garm-wolf got him. Let’s not forget who led us after, and finished the journey.”
Hodge sniffled and wiped his eyes.
“Yes, he led us well. Dear Tuck. So good and brave. He built that house of bricks with his own two hands, but it just wasn’t strong enough…”
“Or he wasn’t clever enough,” Flitch muttered, not seeing the look of hate that flared in Hodge’s eyes.
All this time Will had been darting covert glances around the vault, and at last he saw what he had been hoping for. In the wall directly behind the hogmen there was a small round hole that appeared to be the mouth of a drainpipe. An escape route. The hole would have been too high in the wall for him to reach, but below it was a heap of stones from a projecting buttress that had partly collapsed. If he could climb it and get into the drain, the hogmen might be too big to follow him. But first he had to distract them long enough to make a run for it.
“For myself,” he said quickly, “I had my own opinions about which of you was the one to beat, of course.”
“Did you,” Flitch said icily. “And which of us would that be, in your opinion?”
“Really, it wouldn’t be polite of me to…”
Flitch’s scarred face came to within an inch of Will’s. “Which of us?” he growled.
Will knew the true answer to that question. The watchful, calculating look in Flitch’s eyes told him.
“Hodge, of course,” Will said, as casually as he could.
Flitch’s eyes went cold and deadly, and for one dreadful instant Will thought he had made a fatal mistake. But then Hodge gave a squealing laugh and Flitch turned to him with a look of loathing.
“I knew it,” Hodge crowed, breaking into a clumsy, bobbing dance. “I always knew it. Oh, if only Mother could hear this.”
Flitch had regained control of his features, and now he gave a careless shrug.
“You think this scrap’s opinion is worth anything?” he snorted.
“He’s Sir William of the Seven Mighty Companions,” Hodge said, still capering with delight. “If you’ve never heard of them, brother, then may I say there are clearly a few things you’re not cognizant of. He came here to challenge us to mortal combat and he thinks I’m the one to beat. He considers me the real challenge. At las
t, at last. Someone who appreciates finesse over brute force. Someone who values brains in an opponent.”
“Brains?” Flitch retorted. “If you had any, you would be using them now, instead of bouncing around like a demented dumpling.”
“Envy does not become you, brother.” Hodge chortled.
“You think I’m envious?” Flitch snarled. “Of you? Do you remember what Mother said when she drove us out of the wallow? Do you remember that day?”
The gloating joy in Hodge’s eyes dimmed. His smile sagged.
“You do remember, don’t you?” Flitch said with a fang-baring grin.
“She told us to go away and never come back,” Hodge muttered. “She told us we were big enough to find our own food.”
“Yes, she did. And what else did dear Mother say?”
“She told me I…” Hodge mumbled brokenly, the corners of his mouth drooping.
“She said that you were a fool,” Flitch snapped. “Surely you haven’t forgotten that.”
Hodge’s lower lip began to quiver.
“Watch over those fool brothers of yours, she said to me,” Flitch went on, his voice rising to a grating creak that was apparently an imitation of Mother Marrowbone. “But especially Hodge. He doesn’t have a runt’s chance. There’s nothing but gristle between those ears. That’s what she said, and that’s what I promised to do. And that’s what I have been doing, all these years. Are you cognizant of that? Watching over you, keeping you out of harm’s way. Squandering my chance to really make something of myself because I was shackled to a useless mound of tallow that wouldn’t even make decent candle fat if melted down.”
Hodge’s eyes blinked repeatedly. His breath was coming in short gusts.
“Forced to listen to you blather,” Flitch went on, “with your yes indeed, dear brother, and your I feel it incumbent upon me to inform you, dear brother, fancying yourself my equal, when if it hadn’t been for me thinking, actually thinking instead of pretending to think, you wouldn’t have had the brains to feed yourself.”
As Flitch’s rant went on, Hodge’s face had been darkening like a thundercloud, and then, with a speed Will would never have suspected in him, his great lump of a fist lashed out and struck Flitch full in the face. The scarred hogman staggered back, grunting and wheezing.
No one was more shocked at this outcome than Hodge. He gaped in amazement at his own fist.
“I did it.” He giggled deliriously. “I finally did it.”
As a moment of triumph it was short-lived. In the next instant, with a snarl of rage, Flitch threw himself at his brother.
Will’s chance had come. As the hogmen toppled into a grunting, squealing mass of porcine fury he slipped past them, dashed across the vault, and leapt onto the heap of fallen stones. Frantically he scrambled up, clutching for handholds and banging his knees painfully against the edges of the uneven stones. He had not got very far when there was a cry of alarm from behind him, and then a furious howl. Will did not look back. He reached the top of the heap, jumped and caught the edge of the hole with his fingers. With a desperate effort he hauled himself up and into the drain.
It was too small for him to stand up in, and so he shuffled at a crouch away from the entrance with his head down. Then he saw a glimmer of light and looked up. Ahead of him, only a few feet away, burned a ring of pale green flames.
The werefire.
“To the door of darkness I come, and none shall withstand me. The enemy in his numberless hordes will cower before my wrath. My flashing blade will sing as it cleaves. Fear? Hah! I set my boot upon Fear and stamp on its ugly head.”
— The Adventures of Sir Boron the Boastful
WILL COULD HEAR HODGE AND FLITCH grunting and cursing as they scrambled up the heap of stones. “Carrion … bladderbrain … bucket of tripe,” Flitch growled, and Will was not sure whether the words were intended for him or for Hodge. If they were able to squeeze themselves into the drain they would be on him in an instant. He had to get further from the entrance, but instead of moving he stayed where he was, riveted by the trembling ring of flames. It looked to him like a round, gaping mouth filled with green fangs.
He heard a sound and turned. Flitch’s hideous face filled the hole.
“Now listen, friend,” the hogman said with a ghastly attempt at a smile, “let’s just forget everything that’s gone before, and start again. You can’t go that way, obviously, so you might as well come back out. And you mustn’t believe we were serious about…” He gave a simpering laugh. “… about eating you.”
“Of course we weren’t serious, Sir William,” Hodge chimed in from over his brother’s shoulder. “We ate somebody three days ago and we’ve got plenty left in the pot.”
Flitch jerked violently and a sharp gasp came from Hodge.
“My brother is quite the joker,” Flitch said, rolling his eyes. “What he means is that we’d be happy to accept your challenge and meet you in combat. One at a time, or both of us together, whichever you prefer. Or if you’d rather just call the whole thing off and go home, that’s fine, too. We could be your guides out of the sewers. Don’t you agree, Hodge?”
“Indubitably, brother, we should be overjoyed to be of assistance in any way we can. All you have to do, Sir William, is come out of there…”
“He knows what he has to do, dungflap,” Flitch snarled at his brother, and then caught himself and turned to Will with a sheepish grin. “Or rather, what he may do, when he’s ready. No hurry at all. At your earliest convenience. We can wait. Happy to wait. Honoured, in fact. The thing is, of course, you don’t want to stay in there too long. The green fire attracts … nasty company.”
As Flitch was delivering this speech, Will noticed, he had squeezed a little further into the drain. Only a few feet separated them.
Will turned away and began to inch towards the flames.
“What are you doing?” Flitch growled. “You can’t go that way.”
Will reached the ring of fire and then drew back. To his surprise it gave off no heat. The flames did not even seem to rise from the floor of the drain or touch it in any way. They just appeared out of the air and vanished again, sometimes silently and other times accompanied by faint sounds like whispers or muted, cut-off cries. Though they looked pale green from a distance, Will could see now that the fire was made of many colours. As in the street earlier, he could see shapes in the flames, forming and fading away. They caught his gaze and held it just long enough that he wasn’t quite sure what he had seen, and wished to see it longer.
And now he saw that the werefire wasn’t really fire at all. The shifting shapes were not rising out of the flames, they were the flames. The werefire was nothing other than this beautiful, feverish dance of images. He wondered why everyone seemed to fear it so much. If this was the only way to escape the hogmen, he would take it.
He drew a deep breath, held it, and plunged forward.
He was sitting on a horse. He was outside, in the rain, sitting on a dappled grey and white horse. He was dressed in armour, and a long sword hung at his side. His head was bare and the cold rain was running down his neck. He shivered, vaguely remembering that he had been somewhere else just a moment before. But now he was here. Wherever here was.
Before him stood another horse, bearing a rider in black armour, his face concealed by a tall, gargoyle-faced helm. Beyond the rider a dark, sinister castle loomed like a giant bat with its wings outspread.
I’ve been here before, Will thought, although he couldn’t say how he knew. The gloomy landscape, the castle, even the black knight, all were familiar. He had come to this place not once but many times. There was something he had to do here. Someone he had to find.
“Where is she?” Will shouted, and then realized he was asking about Jess. She was in danger. If he hadn’t left her this would never have happened. But he was here now. That was all that mattered. He had come to save her.
“Let me pass,” Will shouted.
Without answering the blac
k knight drew his sword, spurred his mount and charged.
Will had never ridden a horse, but somehow he knew what to do. Gripping the reins with one hand, he dug in his heels and the horse sprang forward. The black knight thundered towards him, his mount’s hooves flinging up clods of mud. As the riders met, the black knight’s blade flashed down but Will met it with his own. There was a clang of steel, and then the black knight was past him and turning to strike again. Will expertly wheeled his horse, and with a deft, accurate stroke, sliced through the other rider’s saddle strap.
The black knight slid off his mount and crashed to the wet ground.
Will reined in his horse and leapt from the saddle. The black knight was still down, groping for his fallen sword in the muck. Will reached it before he did, and took it in his other hand. The black knight held up his arms in supplication or fear, but Will ignored him and kept on. He crossed the drawbridge, and went in under the portcullis of the castle. Seven armoured goblins appeared in his path, brandishing jagged-tipped pikes. He knew they were goblins because he had come this way before. He had fought with them, many times, and each time he had lost.
Not this time.
With a wild cry Will charged. His two blades seemed to take on a life of their own, whirling, darting, slashing. Pikeshafts splintered. Armour rang and split. In a matter of moments all seven opponents were weaponless and on the ground, groaning and pleading for mercy. Will ignored them as well and ran on.
He came to a door, hacked his way past the three mace-wielding ogres guarding it, and entered. A narrow, winding flight of steps led down to a torchlit corridor lined with cells. From all directions came shrieks and moans, and other ghastly sounds. Then a high, terrified cry that pierced his heart. Jess! Will rushed from one door to the next, looking through each barred window for his sister. To his shock, the cells were all empty.
There was another, larger door at the end of the corridor. That was where the terrible sounds were coming from. Cautiously he approached, with the odd feeling that this was not going the way it was supposed to. He was a hero. He wasn’t meant to hesitate. He had battled his way into this castle, he had never come this far before, he was about to win. But now… Now there was something nagging at the back of his mind. Something he was forgetting.
The Shadow of Malabron Page 23
