Death Weavers

by Brandon Mull

  “Renford was champion of all your neighboring villages,” Cole recalled. “If Minimus beat him, you were all free.”

  “Aye, that was the notion,” Zig said. “I heard Renford talking before the duel. He didn’t like the high quality of the Halfknight’s armor. His own equipment was mismatched and incomplete. But he was confident that his size would take the day. Was he ever wrong!”

  “Minimus won?” Cole asked.

  “Handily! The fight ended almost before it began. Quick and bloody. Renford hardly knew what hit him. It was almost enough to make a man pity the brute.”

  “You mentioned a battle,” Cole said.

  Zig gave an uneasy chuckle. “The swamp folk had made themselves quite comfortable. They weren’t ready to quit the good life over trifles like fair play and honor. Renford’s cousin immediately challenged Minimus to a duel.”

  “That was against the rules,” Cole said.

  “You bet it was!” Zig exclaimed. “Since Renford justified his first challenge by claiming to be champion of the swamp folk, Minimus had not only won control of our villages but was champion of the swampies as well.”

  “Did Minimus accept the challenge?”

  “The little knight dispatched the challenger as swiftly as he killed his cousin,” Zig said with a giggle. “As the Halfknight wiped the gore from his sword, he invited other challengers to apply. The silence was deafening. With their two top fighters dead in the mud, bested without inconvenience, nobody was in a rush to volunteer.”

  “I can imagine,” Cole said. “I’ve seen Minimus in action.”

  “When nobody stepped up, Minimus ordered them to return to the swamp and to never again set foot on grinaldi property. Some of the older ones conferred, and then they all attacked.”

  “You were right,” Cole said angrily. “No honor.”

  “Most of them rushed Minimus,” Zig said. “They would have had better luck leaping into the mouth of a volcano. All who charged him were just lining up for the slaughter. There was a terrible beauty to it—that tiny knight tirelessly carving up so many villains twice his size. Of course, not every swampie went for Minimus. Some attacked the nearest grinaldi.”

  “Is that how you got killed?” Cole asked.

  “We hopped away at first, mostly avoiding them. Twitch rallied us. He charged into battle boldly, cutting down Renford’s younger brother. With Minimus dispatching them so readily, they were distracted and off-balance. We wiped them out. Three of the grinaldi fell, and a half dozen were wounded. Renford’s father got me from behind with a hoe.”

  Cole winced. “I’m sorry.”

  Zig shook his head. “Don’t be. I was avenged many times over. It was a glorious day. We worked for generations to build those communities. The swamp folk had stolen everything. We had no hope for the future. But we got it back. My wife and children will have the lives I hoped for them.”

  That pricked Cole’s heart. “You’re a good man.”

  Zig smiled, eyes twinkling. “I must have done my part if they let me in here. I didn’t die immediately. I lived to get word that Minimus had purged the other villages of any lingering swampies. Your friend Twitch survived without a scratch. There was no hope in sight, lad, then all of a sudden the world was set aright. Goes to show you—never give up.”

  “I guess it does,” Cole said.

  “I would have rather lived,” Zig said wistfully. “I had plenty of good years left in me. But what we were doing before Minimus came to our rescue was not living. Given that we drove the swamp folk away, I wouldn’t change a thing.” He looked around. “I had no suspicion that a place like this might await me.”

  “It’s amazing,” Cole agreed.

  Zig looked Cole up and down. “You’ve got a glow to you, lad. You in love or something?”

  Cole laughed. “My body isn’t dead yet.”

  “You’re fooling me,” Zig cried. “Then how are you here?”

  “It’s part of the weaving they do in Necronum,” Cole said.

  “I never heard of such a thing,” Zig said. “Nor have I seen an echo with your particular . . . sheen. But I’m new here. Plenty to learn.”

  “Thanks for telling me about Twitch,” Cole said. “I’m sorry you got killed.”

  Zig waved it off. “Don’t mourn for me. The rest of my kin will be along in due time. It’s the one certainty. We’re all headed this way sooner or later. It’s not so intimidating once it happens.”

  “I’ll see you around.”

  Zig gave a little bow and moved on.

  Folding his arms, Cole leaned up against a wall. It was good to hear that Twitch had succeeded in his quest to save his people. Just knowing his friend was out there someplace, having achieved what once seemed like an impossible goal, gave Cole hope and motivation.

  The Hall of Glory was a big place full of diverse people. Surely he could find somebody to steer him in the right direction.

  CHAPTER

  18

  GUIDANCE

  As Cole continued to wander, he began to realize that bright echoes must not visit the Hall of Glory very often. Not only did he get a lot of stares, but several echoes approached to ask his business. He stuck with his story of being a messenger and fished for information about where he could find the Hundred Forests. None of the echoes who approached him knew the geography of the echolands well enough to help.

  While strolling past a glass wall that looked out on a modest orchard, Cole noticed a man with bushy gray sideburns roaming the grassy area. Not immediately seeing a way into the courtyard, Cole rapped on the window until he caught the man’s attention. It was Durny—the old shaper who had bought him for the Sky Raiders and who had protected Mira until getting killed by an enormous spider at the proving grounds.

  When he recognized Cole, Durny first looked stunned, then delighted. He gestured to the right and hustled that way himself. Durny had lost his limp but wore the same shirt, jacket, and trousers from the day he died.

  “Look at you!” Durny exclaimed when they met at the door. He stepped inside, shook one of Cole’s hands with both of his, then pulled him into a hug. “We meet again! You’re bright, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah,” Cole said. “Still alive.”

  “How is Mira?”

  Cole looked around. “Can we talk here?”

  “Come into the courtyard,” Durny said, leading Cole under the shade of the fruit trees. “This entire compound is shielded from outside scrutiny, but out here we won’t risk other guests of the hall eavesdropping.”

  “Mira’s in the echolands,” Cole said. “Not dead. Her body is in longsleep. An echo captured her.”

  “Oh no. What about her power?”

  “She got it back.”

  “Outstanding,” Durny enthused. “That could not have been easy. But now she’s in trouble. You’re looking for her?”

  “And her sister Destiny,” Cole said.

  Durny placed a hand on Cole’s shoulder. “I’m deeply impressed, Cole. You promised me you would take care of her. You’ve clearly taken that vow seriously.”

  “I’m trying,” Cole said. “Honor is somewhere in the echolands too.”

  Durny gave a slow nod. “Three of the five trapped in the afterlife.”

  “I want to save them,” Cole said. “Last we knew, Destiny was heading to a place called Deepwell in the Hundred Forests. I’m trying to get there, but I’m on my own.”

  Durny rubbed his chin. “I don’t know the lay of the land here. Some in the Hall of Glory could help us. Most are more familiar with places besides the echolands.”

  “How come?”

  “When I died, I found myself traveling along a white, misty passage. From off to one side I heard this bombastic music. Following it, I entered the echolands near the Hall of Glory, and the bombast lured me inside. I haven’t left. The vast majority of those who come to the Hall of Glory make their way directly here and never depart to explore. Word has it this is the safest, most comfortable haven i
n the echolands. For those who decide to move on, there is a channel nearby. Tell me all you know about Miracle and her sisters.”

  Cole related how Sando had tricked him and the suspicion that he was working for Nazeem. He summed up how he and his friends had previously helped Honor and Constance and shared what he knew about Destiny.

  Durny listened solemnly. When Cole finished, the old man folded his arms and stared at the ground. “I may not know my way around the echolands. But I might know just the man to help you.”

  “Really?”

  “He can be fickle. But I expect this scenario will intrigue him. He’s one of the few who comes and goes around here. Something of a folk hero. He should be able to steer you right.”

  “Can we tell him everything?”

  “I talk to him about Stafford and the princesses all the time. He works with the Unseen. He’s as reliable an ally as you’re likely to find. He’s been my best source of news. I already knew Nazeem was searching intently for Tessa, for example. But I didn’t know about Mira and Honor crossing into the echolands.”

  “Where can we find your friend?”

  “Come with me.”

  * * *

  Cole waited outside a door while Durny checked with his contact. After a few minutes Durny came and retrieved Cole. He followed the old shaper into the room.

  Two men awaited them. A handsomely dressed man sat in a red leather chair. A stockier, balding man perched off to the side on a stool.

  Cole recognized the man in the chair! His clothes were different from during their previous encounter, but the rings and cape looked the same. His face appeared a little older, but his carefully shaped beard remained black. “Harvan Kane!” Cole exclaimed.

  Harvan grinned. “Always a thrill to meet an admirer. And you are?”

  “Cole Randolph.”

  Harvan bowed his head in greeting. “All those stories you’ve heard about me? Understatements.”

  Cole couldn’t help laughing at the casual cockiness. “We’ve met.”

  “Have we?” Harvan asked, squinting. “Set aside the message, Cole, I can barely get a read on you.”

  Cole glanced at Durny, who held out a hand. Cole passed him the message, and Durny set it on a table. Now Harvan would be able to hear his actual music.

  “I’m normally good with faces,” Harvan apologized, one dark eyebrow raised.

  “We met indirectly,” Cole said. “In the Cave of Memory.”

  “Ah,” Harvan said. “My imprint. Was I helpful?”

  “You were guarding a secret,” Cole said. “I was there looking for somebody else.”

  Harvan rubbed the dense, sculpted fur on his chin. “I remember the secret. I hoped my imprint would protect it. How’d I do?”

  “You told me nothing,” Cole said.

  Harvan pumped a fist. “More than a hundred years later, still going strong.”

  “Although you let him know you had a secret,” the guy on the stool pointed out. “That’s only one step away from revealing it.”

  “We all have secrets,” Harvan replied dismissively. “Especially anyone in that cave.” He jerked a thumb at the man on the stool. “This is Winston. On a good day, he’s more useful than annoying. I was a capable weaver in my time, but he’s the better weaver in the echolands.”

  Winston folded his hands on one knee. “And why is that?”

  Harvan shrugged and shared an uncomfortable smile. “Because I can barely weave anymore.”

  “Barely?” Winston inquired.

  “Not at all, really,” Harvan admitted.

  “My power is blocked too,” Cole sympathized.

  Harvan squinted at him. “Blocked? More like destroyed!” He glanced at Winston. “You ever see such a mess?”

  “It’s not pretty,” Winston said.

  “How’d you manage that?” Harvan asked Cole.

  Cole glanced at Durny. “Can I talk in here?”

  “Speak freely,” Harvan said. “Nobody can spy on us. Winston sees to that.”

  Durny gave a nod.

  “I fought a shapecrafter named Morgassa who was terrorizing Elloweer,” Cole said. “She attacked my power as we defeated her.”

  Harvan laughed and smiled, rubbing his hands briskly. “My kind of guy! See what I mean, Winston? You haven’t really taken a stand until you get your hands dirty. The kid has battle scars.”

  “I’m sure you can provide him with more,” Winston replied dryly.

  “Maybe,” Harvan said with a chuckle. He refocused on Cole. “I’m to believe you’ve met four of the Pemberton girls?”

  “Miracle, Honor, and Constance,” Cole said. “I helped all of them regain their powers. I’ve only met Destiny’s imprint.”

  Harvan leaned forward. “Your music sounds truthful, and I have an ear for it. Winston?”

  “Agreed.”

  “This guy vouches for you too,” Harvan went on, jerking his chin toward Durny. “You want directions to the Hundred Forests? You’re hoping to catch up with Destiny?”

  “Yeah,” Cole said. “Do you know how to get there?”

  Harvan rolled his eyes. “Cole? Please.”

  “Does that mean you do?” Cole said.

  “He doesn’t know the stories,” Winston said.

  “Stories?” Cole asked.

  “He’s arguably the greatest explorer the Outskirts has known,” Durny explained. “Harvan Kane stories have expanded into folk tales.”

  “They haven’t grown that much,” Harvan protested.

  “You had others write your autobiography so they could embellish,” Winston said.

  “It’s tedious to transcribe events you lived,” Harvan said. “Writing produces grotesque oversimplification. The verbal history has been accurate enough.”

  “The one about Mount Fairview?” Winston prompted.

  “The highest peak in Sambria,” Harvan said. “I reached the summit.”

  “Defeating an army of yetis?” Winston pressed.

  “There were yetis,” Harvan maintained. “They tried to kill me. Avoiding is basically defeating.”

  “With a magical spear?” Winston pursued innocently.

  “I found a spear,” Harvan asserted. “Some details improve with any retelling.”

  “The one about the witch?” Winston went on.

  “Enchantress, witch,” Harvan said. “She had powers.”

  “Turned you into a frog, did she?” Winston asked.

  “I had huge warts,” Harvan said. “And I couldn’t speak.”

  Winston shook his head.

  “Harvan’s renown is well deserved,” Durny inserted. “He was a legitimate hero, or he wouldn’t be in the Hall of Glory. And unlike many, he continues to explore here in the echolands.”

  “This is just my base of operations,” Harvan said. “I interact with a few of the top Unseen weavers. I know quite a bit about the Pembertons. I’m concerned about this new fellow, Nazeem.”

  “I think he’s been around for a very long time,” Cole said.

  “So it seems,” Harvan said. “But his name has only recently surfaced. He remains shrouded in mystery.”

  “I met him,” Cole said.

  Harvan’s jaw dropped, and he stared with undisguised astonishment. “In the flesh?”

  “I snuck into a secret meeting beneath the First Castle,” Cole said. “Nazeem used the Founding Stone to communicate with his followers. He was speaking from the Fallen Temple.”

  “There have been theories . . . ,” Winston mused.

  “The Fallen Temple?” Harvan checked. “You know this for certain?”

  “I was in the meeting when Nazeem spoke,” Cole said. “He noticed me. Now he’s hunting me.”

  Harvan covered his mouth. “You’re the boy in the recent reports. Yes, you match the description. No wonder he wants you. Cole, nobody knows Nazeem resides in the Fallen Temple. In Necronum and the echolands, we all keep our distance from that accursed place. For centuries, nobody has laid eyes on the
temple and survived to tell the tale.”

  Cole held up a finger. “People have been there. They just know how to keep a secret.”

  “What people?” Harvan asked, almost hesitantly.

  “Owandell, for one,” Cole said.

  Bringing his fists to his temples, Harvan reeled in his seat, as if Cole had struck him. “I feared as much. What do you know of the shapecrafters?”

  “Nazeem taught Owandell shapecraft,” Cole said. “The shapecrafters all follow Nazeem.”

  Grimacing, Harvan nodded. “Owandell used shapecraft to strip the princesses of their abilities and empower Stafford.”

  “Right,” Cole said. “Now Owandell and his followers expect Nazeem to return. Nazeem acted like it would happen soon.”

  Harvan slackened, his eyes gazing vacantly. “Funny how some mistakes never stop haunting you.”

  “What mistakes?” Cole asked.

  Winston shook his head. “We can discuss other—”

  Harvan held up a hand. “No. The boy is embroiled in this. Like so many others, he is paying for my faults. He deserves to hear it.”

  Cole listened.

  “I knew Owandell. Long ago. He was a companion on several of the adventures toward the end of my mortal life. We became friends. Younger than me, he was smart, fearless, and full of ambition. I should have heeded the warning signs.”

  “You couldn’t have known—” Winston began.

  Harvan held up a hand again. “We shared some similarities. Both of us wanted to go places nobody had ventured. We wanted to behold unexplored regions of the five kingdoms. But while I avoided the known strongholds of great evil, he displayed an unhealthy interest in them. I could never tell him enough about the Lost Palace, the Forsaken City, or the Fallen Temple.”

  “I went to the Lost Palace to rescue Honor,” Cole said.

  “Nobly done,” Harvan said. “You were fortunate to escape with your life and your sanity. Would you have gone there out of curiosity?”

  “No,” Cole said.

  “This is where you and Owandell differ,” Harvan said. “And where I am unlike him as well. He was absolutely fascinated by knowledge and power, regardless of the source. His own shaping abilities were nothing extraordinary, but his ambition knew no boundaries. He was very patient. Despite many hints of his true character, I didn’t take him seriously until it was too late.”