The Unwilling Accomplice (Book 5)

by Heidi Willard

  Canto scoffed. "Ya can have that boring watching, but Ah'll see if these elves are man enough to spill their blood for their honor." With that beautiful picture in their minds Canto sauntered off to the stairs.

  Percy chuckled and glanced at the others. "I will also bid you farewell," he replied, and turned to return to the port entrance. He noticed when Sins moved to follow, and glanced over his shoulder. "I won't need you for this, Sins, but you might help us all by keeping Canto out of trouble," he pointed out. Sins' eyes narrowed, but he reluctantly strode after their short companion.

  "Would you like to accompany us?" Ruth asked Ned and Fred.

  "What say you, my young apprentice?" Ned asked the young man.

  "I've had enough of closed places for one day," Fred replied.

  "We shall accept that as a no, and wish you ladies happy hunting in your reading," Ned told the two women.

  "Don't find too much trouble," Pat warned them as they turned to leave.

  "It finds me," Fred mumbled.

  The women left, leaving Fred and Ned alone in the square. Ned glanced at Fred. "It seems we have some time to ourselves, Fred. What would you like to do? There are the gardens to see, of course, and-" Ned paused and Fred glanced to him to see what was the matter.

  "Is something wrong?" Fred asked him. He noticed Ned's eyes were on something that glistened in the light of the sun.

  The glistening item was a strand of long black hair that floated through the air. Nothing about the strand itself was unusual, but its behavior was peculiar. Though there was no breeze, the strand dipped and rose through the air weaving in and out of the bustling shoppers. It flitted over the wares and spun around the shoppers, but was careful and small enough not to be seen except by the pair of castors.

  "What is it?" Fred asked his master.

  At his words the strand of hair floated away from the crowds and toward the stairs.

  "I believe it is a calling card," Ned commented.

  "A what?" Fred repeated, but Ned was already heading for the stairs.

  "Come, my young apprentice. Let us see who wishes to speak with us," Ned called over his shoulder.

  Fred hurried after Ned who hurried after the strand. The hair as it flew upward through four terraces before it drifted leftward. They were led along the cobblestone street halfway around the encircling city before the hair turned off into a small plot of grass that surrounded a large tree. Under that tree was a bench, and the strand of hair fell to the ground before the bench. On that bench was a beautiful young woman, Lady Martley. She smiled at them and bowed her head.

  "Good morning, Edwin, good morning Fred," she greeted them like an old friend.

  "Good morning, Lady Martley, if that is truly your name," Ned returned. He moved to partially block Fred from her view, and she chuckled.

  "Neither of you have anything to fear from me," she assured him.

  "Can you prove that to us?" Ned countered.

  "Haven't I already proved my wish to protect him with my warning to Fred at String?" she returned.

  "A protector who hides in the darkness may have ill intentions," Ned replied.

  Martley shook her head. "I do not hold such intentions. The darkness is to protect myself from Canavar's ever-present watch," she told him.

  Ned frowned. "What have you to do with him?" he questioned her.

  Martley sighed and a bitter smile slipped onto her lips. "I can see you do not trust me, but I did not intend for our discussion to focus on myself." Her eyes fell on Fred and she nodded her head toward him. "We have kept the truth too long from him in the hope that he would never need to face Canavar, but the incident at String has shown that keeping the truth from Fred will only allow Canavar the upper hand. Surely you must see that," she added, addressing Ned.

  Fred blinked, and he stepped forward to be by Ned's side. He looked into his master's face and noticed Ned's skin was pale and his hands around his staff trembled. "Ned, what's she talking about?" he asked him.

  Ned pursed his lips and shook his head. "It is nothing for you to worry about," he assured Fred.

  Martley frowned and stood. "Nothing for him to worry about? His soul is nothing to worry about? We all know Canavar wishes to possess the rest of his soul and will destroy the entire world to get at it," she argued.

  Ned's eyes sparked with anger as they fell on Martley. "And who are you to know so much of Canavar? Are you in league with him?" he accused her.

  A bitter smile slipped onto Martley's lips. "In league? I suppose if you could call marriage such then yes, I was in league with him," she replied. She turned her attention to Fred and gestured to the young man. "But you can say the same of Fred here. His soul once held love for Canavar, and may still hold some affection for him."

  Fred stepped between them and whipped his head from Martley to Ned. "What is going on here?" he yelled.

  Martley's expression softened. "Fred, my son. You are truly my son," she told him.

  He looked to her with a confused expression. "My mother died when I was young," he replied.

  She shook her head. "No, the mother you knew was not your own. She was merely a vessel for your soul until it was reborn. Your true self, the self who's soul inhabits your body, is Cedric Osgood."

  "Cedric?" Fred repeated. He turned to Ned. The old castor's face was downfallen. "Your former apprentice? You told me he died."

  "He did die," Ned insisted.

  "He did not. He resides here in Fred," Martley argued.

  Ned glared at her. "Fred is his own person, and you have no claim over either the soul of Cedric or Fred," he returned.

  Martley straightened and the air around her swirled as though brought about by a small whirlwind. Her eyes flashed with anger and she glared at Ned. "Claim? As his mother I have the greatest claim for I am Mary Osgood, wife to Canavar and mother to Cedric Osgood," she proclaimed.

  "Cedric's mother died long before I met him. You are an impostor," Ned accused her.

  Martley laughed. The sound was bitter-sweet as it rang in the small area around the tree. "Ned, you who have seen the works of my husband, Canavar. Do you doubt he suddenly knew how to resurrect dead souls? That he was not at his work for years before he revived Cedric's soul only to see it slip from his grasp?"

  "What is going on here?"

  The earth shook, and Martley and Ned both turned to Fred. He held his staff in both hands and the bottom was pounded six inches into the ground. His eyes glowed with a strange, unnatural light like what Pat had seen on the shores of the Greater Conchero River short of Galaron.

  Martley's anger subsided, and the whirlwind around her vanished. She smiled at Fred and opened her arms. "Cedric, my son," she murmured.

  "Fred!" Ned shouted at him.

  Fred straightened and the strange light left his eyes. He clutched at his head and stumbled backward. Ned hurried forward and caught him, but Fred pushed him away. Fred's voice was quiet and controlled. "I want to know everything," he demanded. He looked up into Ned's face with his determined eyes. "Everything you haven't told me."

  Ned sighed, but nodded his head. He glanced over to Martley who gestured towards the bench. "It would be best if he was seated," she recommended.

  "I prefer to stand. I just want the truth right now," Fred argued.

  "Then you will know it," Ned agreed. He stepped away from Fred so his back was turned toward his apprentice. "Martley-Lady Osgood, if that is who she is-is right when she says you are my deceased apprentice, and yet you are not." Ned half turned to him and smiled softly at the young man. "You have his soul, but are a different person."

  "Have his soul? How was it put inside me? Where is my own?" Fred asked him.

  "As Fred you never had your own soul. Your soul has always belonged to Cedric," Martley spoke up. "As the son of the powerful castor Canavar you were gifted with a great many powers of your own, but were always physically weak. Even when you were a babe you hardly ate," she told him.

  "Canavar's son?" Fred re
peated in a whisper. He stumbled over to the bench. "M-maybe I'd better sit down," he agreed as he took a seat on the wooden seat.

  Ned shuffled over and stood before him. "Cedric passed on in your twenty-first year, but when Canavar heard of his death he wouldn't accept. He sought out your-Cedric's body and took it back with him to Palavar. He meant to revive the soul and thus the body, but I followed him from Cedric's grave and stopped the black ritual."

  "Then if you stopped it why are you saying I have Cedric's soul?" Fred countered.

  "Because the ritual was stopped, but in the ensuing battle we fought over the soul with our staffs," Ned told him. "It was stretched between our pulling magic and, like a tight piece of leather, sprang free of our holds and flew across the lands where it must have found your mother laden with child and-"

  "And what?" Fred asked him. He stood and grabbed the collar of Ned's cloak. "And what?"

  "And displaced the soul which original belonged to your body, essentially killing what was meant to be you," Ned finished.

  Fred's eyes widened and his hands fell from Ned's cloak. He stumbled back and the back of his knees hit the bench, causing them to buckle and he to collapse on the bench. "Then what am I? Who am I?" he asked them.

  Martley swiftly took a seat beside him and clasped his shoulders. "You are my son, and Canavar's son, and now that you know the truth you can protect yourself from him. He has a part of your soul, we mustn't let him get the rest."

  "Part of my soul?" Fred repeated. He glanced to Ned. "Then it was Canavar in that alley, wasn't it?"

  "It was," Ned affirmed.

  "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me any of this?" Fred asked him, his voice rising to a fevered pitch with each word.

  "Because you are not Cedric. Whoever this woman claims you are, to me you are no more than Fred my apprentice," Ned replied.

  "And did you think that would protect me from Canavar? Not knowing who I was?" Fred countered.

  "I did it to protect you, to protect who you are," Ned argued.

  Fred jumped to his feet and gestured down to himself. "Protect me by letting me walk into Canavar's trap where he could steal my soul?" Fred returned.

  "I could not have foreseen that! I had no way of knowing he was there!" Ned told him.

  "But I did, and your not telling him the truth about the man in white nearly allowed him to kill Cedric," Martley spoke up.

  "Cedric is dead! He will never return no matter how many times his soul is reborn!" Ned shouted at her.

  Her face darkened and the storm around her returned. "He stands before us, and I will not allow Canavar another chance to desecrate his soul! My son will be leaving with me!"

  The wind around her picked up again stronger than before. It stretched out and tried to wrap itself around Fred, but Ned pulled his apprentice behind himself and raised a barrier around them. The wind crashed against the barrier and sent flowers, leaves, and even the bench tumbling away from the force of the impact. The wind spun back around Martley and charged the barrier, but rather than crashing into it the wind dove into the ground. It tilled its way into the earth and moved around the barrier until it made a complete circle around the protective area. Martley raised her hand and the entire earth below the barrier was raised up.

  Ned slipped the barrier beneath them so they floated in a bubble amid the whipping wind. The wild air clawed at all sides and crashed against it searching for a weakness. Ned winced at every claw and crash, and the barrier began to flicker.

  The noise attracted a contingent of city guards who rushed down the path toward them. The guards paused near the circular clearing, took in the situation, and aimed their free hands toward Martley. Their palms glowed a bright blue and from them erupted balls of flaming light. The balls sped toward Martley and she ducked and dodged them. The dodging ruined her focus and the wind around her died.

  Martley cast one final glimpse at Fred and jumped into the air. She spread her arms and they stretched into large wings. Her clothes changed to feathers and into the air flew a giant white eagle. The guards shot more balls of fire at her, but the eagle screeched and flapped its wings. A great wind erupted from her wings and blew out the fire balls. The eagle rose higher into the air and turned to fly around to the back side of the city.

  Ned dropped the barrier and pointed the tip of his staff at the eagle. Fred's eyes widened and he jumped on Ned's staff. "No!" he cried out.

  Hot flaming balls burst from Ned's staff and shot into the ground, scorching the grass and shattered the stones with their heat. Fred looked up and caught one last glimpse of Martley before she disappeared around the mountain. He breathed a sigh of relief. She was safe.

  Fred stumbled back onto the bench as the guards hurried up to them. The men looked at where the eagle had gone, and then to Ned. "Was that the intruder?" the guard asked Ned.

  "Indeed, and I fear you won't find her among the rocky holes in the cliff," Ned commented.

  "Not likely. Some of those caves can fit a group of men," the elven guard agreed. "But what was she here for? Did she tell you?" he wondered.

  Ned turned to Fred who held his head clasped in his hands. "Could we perhaps delay the questioning for another time? My apprentice isn't feeling well," he told them.

  The guard bowed his head. "Of course, Edwin. Whenever you please."

  Ned strode over and grasped Fred's shoulders. Fred agreed to be lifted and led past the guards and down the path to the stairs. He had other things to occupy his mind.

  CHAPTER 10

  While Ned and Fred had their conversation with Martley, Percy retread the road they had taken from the port. He strode down the cart path and back to Captain Lee's ship. There was a large pile of bee boxes on the dock, two dozen in total, and Captain Lee himself stood beside his cargo.

  The captain turned at the sound of Percy's boots on the dock boards and smiled at the young man. "What can I do for you, young Percy?" he wondered.

  Percy's face was grave. "You know why I've come here," he returned.

  Captain Lee chuckled. "Perhaps I do, but wouldn't you want to speak it over a glass of ale? The elves aren't great at making liquor, but the imports that come off these ships are some of the finest in the world."

  "Very well," Percy grudgingly agreed.

  The captain threw his arm over Percy's shoulders and turned them toward the row of buildings along the peers. "Come, Percy, and let us enjoy the bountiful harvest that is the drink of Crutchen," the captain invited him.

  Percy smiled and bowed his head. "I am your student in the art of drinking," he returned.

  "Good, then let us to class!"

  The captain guided Percy to one of the bars, a building hardly better than a shack. There were a few front windows on both its ground and upper floors, but those were covered in dust from the cart traffic that passed by continuously. The paint was peeled from the wooden slats that made up the walls, and there was a worn sign above the centered door. It read The Wild Mermaid.

  "I'm surprised the elves allow such an establishment," Percy commented.

  "Ransan turns a blind eye when he takes a profit," Captain Lee explained. He led Percy inside, and the interior was as rough as the exterior.

  The walls were blackened with countless decades of smoke, and the round tables were covered in grimy clothes. The single room was poorly lit with candles, and the captain took a table in a corner so dark Percy had trouble finding a chair. He fumbled for the top of a chair and seated himself, but his stiff manner showed he wasn't looking forward to this conversation.

  The captain leaned back in his own chair and chuckled. "You're as tense as a freshly-hewn board. I won't tell your secret to anyone," he promised.

  "My secret?" Percy questioned him.

  The captain nodded. "That you have done more than touch the Region Stones. Even now you have several pieces of different stones on your person. I can feel their power pulsing around you," the captain told him.

  Percy's lips pursed toget
her and he leaned away from the man. "And what might I have to trade for this secret keeping?"

  "Your allegiance, as your father did before you," the captain replied.

  "My father? What do you know of him?" Percy asked him.

  The captain smirked and set his hand on the table. The ring on his finger glistened even in the weak light. "Is that familiar to you? I'm sure you have the one that belonged to your father," the captain commented. Percy smirked and pulled out the ring he had pulled from his father's severed hand after the battle at Tramadore. He gripped it tightly in his hand, and the captain chuckled. "There's little use holding onto it as anything other than a memento. The power is gone, destroyed with the army beneath Tramadore," he told the young man.

  Percy sneered at the worthless trinket and tossed the ring. It clattered beside the captain's ring and he leaned forward. "So I may safely assume your master is-" The captain clapped his hand over the young man's mouth and scowled at him.

  "Don't speak his name so easily, boy," the captain warned him. He slid his hand off and the smile slipped back onto his face. "But as for your question, he is my master, and yours, if you hope to find your answers."

  "And what are my questions?" Percy wondered.

  "You want to know if those stones still have power, and if that power can still be used," the captain mused. Percy's lips turned down, and the captain chuckled. "You're a simple book to read like your father. The Master saw through him easily enough."

  "I am not my father. I will succeed in my plans to rule the southern regions," Percy objected.

  The captain smirked. "Not without those stones, and nobody can tell you how to work them except the Master. That is, unless you're going to ask your friends. I'm sure Edwin would be interested to know you've been keeping secrets from him, and does your moralistic assassin know of your deceit?"

  Percy frowned. "He suspects, but he won't act until he's confident something is amiss." His eyes brushed over the captain's smiling face, and he leaned forward. "But what of the stones? I have read in books that magical items retain at least a small portion of their magic after they are broken, and the elves suspect as much themselves. Are these an exception?"