“Nice lip enhancement,” Ginger says, her mace colliding with the sharp blade.
Crowe growls, swinging violently at Ginger. She grunts with every strike of the weapons.
“Who would’ve thought it’d be the Bloodred Queen that would find a way to keep your lying mouth shut,” she says.
Launching at her, Crowe swipes his blade at her wildly. Ginger manages to fight him off, but in doing so backs herself up against a tree. With a swift shift of his scythe, he knocks her weapons from her hands. I almost see the corners of Crowe’s lips turn up into a threaded smile as he raises his blade. The metal shimmers in the moonlight.
Hearing Ginger’s quick breaths, I ready my bow. My hands shake, and I can’t keep my target within view of the tip of my arrow. Taking a breath, I steady myself and align the creature in my view. Before I have time to release the arrow, Crowe brings his sharp blade down toward Ginger’s head.
She ducks, and the scythe sticks into the thick trunk of the tree. Crowe tugs his weapon free with ease. It gives Ginger enough time to plan her escape. She dives for one of her maces. Snatching its handle, she rolls, anticipating Crowe’s next maneuver. His weapon plunges into the soft dirt seconds after she moves. Too quickly, he pulls the blade free and aims for her again as she grabs her second mace.
Ginger hollers as the sharp edge rips through her shoulder, pinning her to the ground. Blood fills the gash in her flesh and spills down her arm. “Kill him!” she screams, barely holding his looming attacks back.
My arrow flies, but my hand trembles so much that it misses and buries itself into a nearby tree. I aim again, but when Crowe’s eyes turn to me, I know I may only get one more chance. With Ginger wriggling beneath him, he swipes at her again, this time grazing her face. Her weapons drop to either side of her as she reaches for the gash across her cheek. Taking a final blow, he embeds the tip of the blade into Ginger’s right forearm. She howls in pain.
Crowe stands and leaps toward me. Again, I send another arrow his way, but my weapon is swiped from my hands and I am knocked to the forest floor. I gasp, sucking in air as the wind is knocked out of me. Crowe sits on my chest, pinning my arms with his knees. He reaches for the sickle clipped to his belt.
“No one tries to kill Crowe and lives,” he snarls, his sewn lips barely moving.
As the sharp point descends toward me, I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for my last heartbeat. Instead, his scream rings through the forest, like the cry of a banshee. His body jerks when his own weapon pierces his back and comes out of his chest. When his body slumps to the side, Ginger stands behind him, holding his scythe tightly gripped in her hands. She leans the weapon against her shoulder.
“Not anymore,” she says.
Following Hook’s instructions, we make our way toward the hideaway near the throne room. Haploraffen guard the maze of hallways, clearly on a mission. With the sound of the alarms earlier, I’m almost certain they are hunting for Pete and me and possibly the others. Lily and her safety sits at the forefront of my mind, but I force myself to stay focused. While everything within me yearns to protect her, she’s strong enough to hold her own. Glancing at Pete, I see a multitude of expressions knotted across his face. I can only imagine it has something to do with Gwen.
Slipping through the corridors, we find ourselves hiding in darkened corners and behind open doors. Pete and I watch two Haploraffen hurry by before we find our way to the door of the prison cells.
Expecting a fight, my breath catches to find the prison door unguarded and wide open. Alarm bursts in Pete’s eyes as well as we race down the stairwell. The air of death hits me before my eyes fall on the broken body of Pickpocket.
“No! Pickpocket, wake up!” Pete cries, collapsing at Pickpocket’s side. “Doc! Fix him!”
The pallor in Pickpocket’s face and lips speaks volumes. He’s been dead long enough that there is no bringing him back, but a sense of urgency drives me to my knees. Examining his body, there is no rise or fall of his chest. I try to breathe for him, but I know it is futile. His head lies at on odd angle, confirming a snapped neck.
I sit back on my heels, unable to catch my breath as another of our friends lies lifeless.
“Doc! Help him!” Pete begs.
“He’s gone,” I say, my voice frail. Sorrow threatens to derail me. An injury like this would’ve been violent enough that he would’ve died instantly. I’m grateful he didn’t suffer.
Pete buries his face in his hands and sobs, his quiet voice whispering through the prison cells. With all those he’s lost, I wonder how much more he can take. I’ve lost so many as well, but each death seems to steal a piece of him.
Getting to my feet, I say, “Come on. We’re getting out of here.”
“We can’t leave him here,” Pete replies, anger coloring his words.
“Pete, we can’t take him.” I say the words softly, unsure if Pete will lose it more or realize I’m right.
He hangs his head, rubbing the back of his neck. When he looks up at me, he nods. He closes Pickpocket’s eyes. “You were the best. You’ll be missed, mate,” he says in a strangled voice.
“Good-bye, Pickpocket,” I add. Then I hold out my hand, and Pete reluctantly takes it. I yank him to his feet, and we race back up the stairs. When we reach the landing, we are greeted by a large portrait of the Bloodred Queen hanging on the opposite wall. She appears young in this picture, her skin without a single flaw. Her eyes are familiar, the same shape and hue as Hook’s.
Sliding the portrait to the side reveals an opening into the passage Hook said would be there. We descend several floors before finally reaching a wooden door at the bottom of the stairwell. Pete cautiously opens the door.
Other than a crudely made rocking chair constructed of rusty pieces of armor, the room is empty. A set of soldered-off lances are mounted onto two old breastplates that function as both a seat and chair back. Beneath it, four greaves provide the legs to the chair. Otherwise the room is completely empty.
“They should be here by now, shouldn’t they?” I ask.
“We agreed to reconvene at dusk, even if they couldn’t find Gwen,” Pete says. His voice cracks, and I understand how hard this must be for him. “The longer they stay out, the higher the risk they’ll be caught.”
“You don’t think … ?” I can’t finish my sentence. After seeing the condition Pickpocket was left in, I can’t begin to think of Lily being out there without me. The only peace I have right now is knowing she’s with Alyssa, Maddox, and, if he stays true to his word, Hook.
“Unless they show up in the next few minutes, I think it’s safe to assume we’re on our own,” Pete says, his voice wavering.
Leaning my head to the left, my neck cracks. As the stress of our situation continues to mount, the muscles in my body ball up. I just want this day to end with Lily safe in my arms and the rest of the world at peace. Right now, that vision seems impossible to attain.
Something catches Pete’s eye on the wall opposite the makeshift chair. Dark fabric hangs over a small section of the stone. When Pete pulls it back, a narrow slit in the rock gives us a view of the room beyond.
From our vantage point, we are overlooking the royal throne room. Sitting in a wrought iron throne and facing a mirror is a monstrosity far worse than any nightmare. With scaly green skin and golden reptilian eyes, the Bloodred Queen smiles serenely, running a brush through her long dark hair. I swallow hard. What I’m looking at is my fault. I am the cause of her malformations. She might be the enemy, but my broken antidote has made her what she is today. Accident or not, I’ve failed my oath as a physician and it’s something that will haunt me for the rest of my life.
From inside the chambers, two Haploraffen approach the queen.
“The prisoners are ready,” one of them says.
The Bloodred Queen whirls her chair around. “It’s about time. How many are there?”
“As of right now, six in total,” the Haploraffen says. “We are still on the hunt for t
wo more.”
Pete gives me a worried glance. “Sounds like she’s found the others,” he whispers.
Counting off on my fingers, I try to figure out who the last captive is. “Gwen, Alyssa, Lily, Maddox, and Hook. That’s only five. Who’s the last one?”
“Jack?” Pete suggests.
“I suppose it’s possible,” I say. “If either Katt or the Bloodred Queen have found out you two have a pact, Katt could’ve changed her mind on his usefulness.”
“Where are they?” the Bloodred Queen says.
“Katt has prepared them for a public execution. She requests your company to decide the individual fates of each,” the lead Haploraffen says.
The Bloodred Queen stands. “She requests my company? That twit needs a lesson on who is in charge here. Take me to the prisoners.”
Bowing as the queen climbs down the stairs, the Haploraffen rises. “They await your decision in the courtyard.”
“Any traitor to the crown must die,” the Bloodred Queen says, exiting the room with the guards following behind.
Pete releases the fabric back into place and plops onto the rickety chair. “This is not looking good. How are we supposed to take out both Katt and the Bloodred Queen by ourselves?”
Lost for words, I say nothing. My priorities are muddled in my head. Lily is a prisoner, and my heart begs to rescue her and the others. However, with a public execution in order, there’s no way to get to them without being noticed. They’ll be heavily guarded. And we still need to kill the queen and figure out how to distribute the antidote. Helpless, I look at Pete.
He seems to be pondering the same thing. “Maybe we can recruit some of the villagers to help us free them.”
“We’ll never find enough people in time. And even then, we’re risking their lives for everyone else’s,” I say.
Appearing defeated, Pete drops his face into his hands. “There’s got to be a way.”
And then I realize there is. I take a moment to myself, feeling the air expand my lungs, because uttering the next words may take my breath away.
“There is a way,” I say quietly.
Pete stares at me, anticipating my explanation.
“You need to kill Katt and get the Haploraffen Halo,” I tell him.
He runs a hand through his hair, trying to make sense of my suggestion. “You heard Hook. They listen to her but are first and foremost loyal to the Bloodred Queen. While she’s alive, we have no chance. And if Hook is really taken captive, then we can’t count on him to do her in.”
I pause, preparing myself for the protest that is about to come from Pete, before saying, “I’m going to kill the queen.”
Pete stares at me as if I’ve lost my marbles.
“Doc, I know we’ve had our differences, but you don’t need to be a martyr,” he says. He drops his gaze to his hands and shakes his head. “I know I’ve been awful to you and have treated you like pond scum, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you. In fact, I appreciate you more than you know. You’re like a brother to me. You and I go back further than anyone else here.”
His words are bittersweet. They are the affirmations I’ve waited a year and a half to hear, but they sting as they take hold of my thoughts.
“I can’t lose you, too,” he says with tears in his eyes. “You’re my best friend.”
Sucking in my bottom lip, I struggle to find words, and all I can manage is a smile. Pete returns the gesture, rises, and pats me on the back.
“We kill the queen together, or we don’t go at all,” he says.
“No. You need to get our friends out of here,” I say. I hold the rucksack with the hydrofluoric acid. “This is dangerous stuff. It needs to be handled carefully by someone who’s experienced. When this bottle is opened, anyone nearby who touches or inhales it will be poisoned and eventually die.”
“You’re not sacrificing yourself,” Pete says.
“I’m not intending to,” I say, frustrated. “But with only two of us left, one needs to kill the Bloodred Queen and the other needs to get that crown from Katt.”
He is silent.
“Go, Pete,” I plead. “Get the crown. Save Lily and Gwen and the others.”
Again, tears brim in his eyes. He pulls me into a bear hug and releases me. “See you in the courtyard,” he says, his voice cracking.
Turning, he exits the room and doesn’t look back.
Dusk has finally settled, leaving all of Lohr in the darkness of nightfall. A stormy and starless sky offers no light, leaving torches to illuminate the castle. Haploraffen sit atop the walls like gargoyles watching over the entrance. Others shout at the local people. Like cattle to the slaughter, they stumble along, hurrying to keep pace with the queen’s mechanical soldiers.
After an hour of walking, Ginger has left me within the tree line of the forest. While I’m not afraid of the dark, I have the sensation of bugs crawling all over me. It’s just my imagination, but the noises, the shadows … they are unsettling.
Bells toll, demanding the presence of all those who hear its ring. A mother shushes her crying infant, worry evident in her tired eyes. Children cast their gazes to the ground, frightened to peer at the terrifying soldiers.
A young girl assists a woman as she limps down the footbridge toward the castle courtyard. When the lady falls onto the stone path, the crowd comes to a halt. The girl kneels by the woman, attempting to bring her to her feet.
“Get up,” the mechanical soldier growls, lifting a spiked claw.
Wielding my bow, I nock an arrow and step from the tree line. When the soldier’s head is within my aim, I ready myself to release the arrow. Letting out a breath, I pull back the bowstring and remind myself that the soldier is just a machine. You can’t kill something that’s made up of wheels and gears.
“What are you doing? You’re going to get us killed,” Ginger hisses as she grips my elbow and pulls me back into the tree line.
“I’m not about to stand by and watch them brutalize the people of Lohr,” I say.
Two other villagers rush to the woman’s side and help her to her feet.
“While I admire your bravado, if you go all heroine on me, those soldiers are likely to take you prisoner. Then I’ll have to rescue the king and your impulsive behind,” Ginger says sternly. “Now put that thing away.”
She hands me a hooded cloak. “Cover yourself with this.”
“Where did you get these?” I ask as I slip the dusty fabric over my shoulders.
“Doesn’t matter,” Ginger says, slipping into her own cloak. Something’s not right. Her words are clipped, and she refuses to meet my eye.
“You stole them, didn’t you?” I ask.
Ginger tugs her cloak around her. “Listen, kid, we don’t have time nor do you have any grounds to discuss morality. We’ve both taken a life or two in the past few days. Stealing a few wraps is hardly our worst crime.”
Her words cut, but she’s right. What are a few missing coats in the grand scheme of what we’re doing? I clasp the cloak tight to my chest and follow Ginger as she pulls the hood of hers over her head and weaves into the crowd.
The young villagers are thin, with sallow, sunken cheeks. None are much older than Ginger. All bones and dirty rags for clothes, they appear to have given up what little hope they must have once had. We mingle with the people as soldiers line the entrance to the castle.
“What’s going on?” Ginger asks a toothpick-thin boy.
He shakes his head. “Don’t know. Mostly the queen just ignores us. This is new.”
“Shut up! Both of you!” a soldier says, giving the boy a shove. He stumbles, nearly running into the girl in front of him.
We follow the crowd into a large square filled with torches. When every villager is within the courtyard, the guard slams the metal doors shut, barricading us inside the large area. A large wooden platform stands in the center. A half dozen stakes rise from the stage. Gwen, seeming confused and disoriented, tugs at her shackles. To the lef
t, Alyssa stands expressionless, resolute in her fate. Maddox and Lily are also bound, along with Hook.
With so many from my village here, I wonder how many others have survived. A hint of hope rises as I wonder if my mother made it out, but it’s quickly replaced with a hollow in my gut. Something deep within me knows she didn’t make it out of the fiery inferno. If she had, she’d probably be standing with the rest of the prisoners. I swallow the lump in my throat.
It’s the man on the middle platform who makes the crowd gasp, sending contemptuous shouts to the machined soldiers that guard him. Seeming frail and bewildered himself is King Osbourne, shackled, but not to a stake like the others. Instead, the winged creatures surround him.
Standing at the castle doors is a beast more hideous than any I’ve seen either in the Labyrinth, on Emerald Isle, or on our journey back to Lohr. Her eyes glow gold in the torchlight. The green hue of her scaly skin gives her a sickly appearance. Dressed in a scarlet gown, the Bloodred Queen watches the activities, surrounded by her mechanical soldiers.
Tinder and wood are piled high beneath their platforms. Haploraffen stand shoulder to shoulder, encircling the shackled prisoners. Within the soldiers’ barricade, a half dozen of the winged machines hold torches, ready to set the platforms ablaze.
“The king lives!” many in the crowd shout, their voices conflicted with both hope and worry.
“He’s alive.”
Some cautiously kneel, knowing that a gesture of respect is due, but their expressions show fear as their stares fixate on the guards. Panic floods me, seeing him a prisoner of a kingdom he once ruled. Believed dead and now alive and mercilessly shackled in front of his people. If he’s killed for real this time, then all is truly lost.
“Come on,” Ginger says, leading me through the crowd. “Stay quiet.”
The shriek of the bells finally ends, but its ominous ring still echoes in my ears. Hundreds gather in the small arena, leaving very little room to move.
Ozland Page 19
