All The King's-Men (The Yellow Hoods, #3)

by Adam Dreece

  Alice nodded, then turned to face him. “I’m going to be gone for a couple of days.”

  Emery’s face went white, then he laughed, wagging a finger at her. “Oh, you had me there for a moment.” He put his hand on his chest. “Oh my, you gave me a scare.”

  Alice’s sweet smile turned up at one edge. “Sorry, Em. I really do mean it.”

  The innkeeper stood. “Wait—what—why?” he asked, worried. “Did… did something happen?” He wiped his hands on his apron and smoothed his stained, brown shirt.

  Alice’s expression turned regretful. “I’m sorry, Em.” She pouted. “I forgot to tell you, and I just realized as I saw the sun coming up and thought oh no, I haven’t told him. I should have told him last week.”

  “Oh, don’t blame yourself,” he said, gesturing with his chubby hands that everything was okay. “It has been so crazy here, I’m sure even I could forget that it’s already Tuesday, given half the chance.”

  “It’s Thursday,” corrected Alice.

  “Really?” Emery stared at Alice in disbelief. “What am I going to do without you?”

  Alice lowered her head, keeping her eyes locked on Emery.

  Two shots rang out, startling them both.

  He waved for her to calm down. “It’s likely just some straggler soldiers. Grunts who’ve just had the scare of their lives from their captain or lieutenant firing a pistol right by their heads to wake them from their drunken stupors. It happened last week as well, only a little later in the morning,” he said, peering at the doorway and hoping he was right.

  Alice smiled. “Right, that makes sense,” she said, a bit rattled.

  “It’s okay, Alice. You go and I’ll… ah… I’ll manage,” he said. “As… ah… as long as there isn’t another night like last night, we’ll be fine.”

  She leaned over and gave the old man a kiss on the cheek, immediately perking him up. “You will do fabulously. You’ll hardly notice I’m gone.”

  Blushing and staring at the floor, Emery replied, “Well, I doubt that on both counts, but… I’ll be fine.” He nodded convincingly.

  Alice walked to the open doorway and held on to it for a moment. She turned back to Emery. “I’ll need to borrow a horse.”

  He was a bit surprised, but shrugged. “Sure, why not? No problem, Alice.” He rarely lent his horses to anyone. “Um, Alice?”

  “Yes, Em?” she said, giving him her adoring attention once again.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, folding his arms nervously. There was something about Alice that always made him nervous to ask her anything about her life.

  “Oh,” she thought for a moment. She could read the concern on his face, and couldn’t have him stop her from borrowing the horse. She really didn’t want things to get messy. She’d been sent to serve as eyes and ears, and now needed to report back quickly. “I’m off… to find a Baker,” she said. “It’s about some special pastries.” She waved and left.

  The innkeeper stood there, dumbfounded, staring at the empty doorway. “Um, Alice? Alice?” He tapped his chin, shaking his head. “But, the baker’s just down the road. And… and he’s not open yet.”

  As Alice walked towards the stables, she froze as she saw Marcus in his distinctive black long coat and monocle, walking to the entrance of the guest rooms, a pistol smoking in his hand.

  When she heard the door close behind him, she let out her breath and continued on her way.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Mercy of the Red Hoods

  Snapping twigs and boots scuffing along the ground stirred the Hound from his agonizing slumber. Layered over the top of the horrific pain was the early morning chill that drilled into his bones.

  He struggled to open one eye. Trembling from the pain, he caught a glimpse of three shadowy figures in the bright and blurry world around him. Mustering up his first words since having been hit with the rocket-cart the day before, he whispered, “Help me.”

  The Red Hoods observed the scene. The entire area was a mess. Pieces of the rocket-cart were scattered all about, as were pieces of the Hound’s shock-gloves and the tank he’d worn on his back. Three trees had fallen, and black grass marked a trail that led to the crumpled Hound. He lay almost naked against a golden oak.

  Hans bent down and examined the shredded metal tank. There was a green liquid pooled in parts of the beaten-up battery pack. Hans gave it a sniff. “It smells horrible. Worse than Mother’s tomato soup,” he said, chuckling.

  Saul picked up a twig and stuck it in the liquid. It hissed as the end blackened. “Nasty stuff.”

  Hans turned to the Hound. “I guess that’s what did this to him.”

  Most of the Hound’s head and face were bare and burned. Only matted tufts of his red-brown hair and big beard remained, some of it fused to his skin. His legs, arms, and chest were covered in tatters, mostly exposed to the elements, with parts severely burned. A broken shock-glove lay at the end of one hand, the last remnant of how he’d looked the day before.

  “It’s acid,” said Gretel.

  Hans glanced up at her. “How would you know that?”

  She rubbed a scar on her left hand. “Mother showed me.” Gretel shrugged off the memory and turned her gaze to the shivering man at their feet.

  Hans put his nose right up beside the Hound’s head. “It smells like… like bacon, really.”

  “Disgusting,” said Saul.

  “No, seriously, come and have a sniff,” said Hans, trying to grab Saul. He enjoyed the discomfort on Saul’s face. Smiling at the Hound, he leaned in and whispered, “You should be dead, you horrific beast. But you smell good enough to eat.” Hans went to give him a slap on the back and Gretel grabbed his arm.

  “What are you doing?” said Hans angrily, shaking his arm free. “Don’t touch me. How dare you do that!”

  Gretel gazed upon the broken man. She could see parts of his arms where he must have tried to protect his face as the acid splashed while he’d tumbled. For the first time, she could see the handsome face that had been buried underneath all the hair.

  Hans shoved Gretel back. “This thing is disgusting. It’s unlucky to still be alive. It’ll be dead by dinner though, one way or the other. The least we could do is put it out of its misery.”

  Saul wanted to say something, to argue Hans’ point, but he just couldn’t find the words. His brother had been oddly twitchy since Mother’s death, and he didn’t want to provoke him immediately after Gretel had.

  Hans caught the look in Saul’s eye and shook his head at his siblings. “Disgusting,” he said, nudging the Hound with his worn boot. “This thing was supposed to bring us to a new life, to give us purpose, to make us matter. Now look at it. It can’t even stand up! Let’s just have some fun with it, put it out of its misery, and find the woman in the red cloak on our own.”

  “We do have the red cloaks,” said Saul, trying to get Hans’ approval. “We’ll just try to find others like us and we’ll find her. Maybe she’ll want to help us.”

  “See!” said Hans, slapping his brother on the shoulder. “Now there’s some reasonable thinking. Come on Gretel, let’s—”

  Saul felt ashamed when Gretel met his eyes. He’d allowed a moment of weakness and fear to overwhelm him. “No,” said Gretel softly, bending down. She observed the tensed muscles in the Hound’s face, how his eyes were shut so tightly that it seemed like a thousand layers of armor were trying to block the world from the fragile soul inside. She shielded the sun from his eyes with her hand and watched the muscles relax slightly.

  As Hans and Saul started bickering about what to do, she waited. After a minute, the Hound’s eyes fluttered open.

  She gazed at him, curious. She’d never seen a man so helpless or injured before. The nightmares that had started since Mother had died, that had mostly featured a yellow-hooded fury, seemed to relinquish their hold on her while she looked at him.

  The Hound had never seen such a tender smile. He tried to whisper to her, but couldn’t.
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  Gretel felt his pain as he closed his eyes again.

  “It’s okay,” she said, thinking. “I’m…” She paused, squinting, her face tense. “I’m… going to help you.” She was surprised by the words that came out of her mouth. She’d been thinking strange thoughts since Mother’s death, experiencing emotions she couldn’t remember ever having before.

  “No, you won’t,” said Hans, pulling out his rapier.

  Gretel turned to see Saul picking himself up off the ground.

  Hans shoved his sister aside. “We are not wasting what little we have on this hideous beast!” He took a step forward, and found his sword-hand stopped by Saul’s staff. Hans’ eyes burned with fury at Saul.

  Saul pleaded, “Hans, we need to think about this. I know you’re still upset about Mother—”

  “You don’t get to talk about her!” yelled Hans, lunging for him.

  Gretel caught a flash of steel out of the corner of her eye. Kicking off a tree, Gretel pulled a short staff from under her red cloak, and smacked Hans across the face. He dropped to the ground immediately.

  Gretel helped Saul as he picked himself up again. He’d been grazed on both arms and a leg by Hans’ blade, but was otherwise all right.

  Hans was on one knee, rubbing his jaw. “I always forget that you can do that. Master Kutsuu never taught me that type of thing. I hate that sissy stick of yours,” he said, standing up.

  Gretel smiled, relieved that the fire was gone from his eyes. “You’ve been calling it my sissy stick for too long. I told you one day you’d think differently about it,” she said, joking.

  “Yeah,” said Hans smugly. “But I’m still going to kill him. That’s how it’s going to be.”

  Gretel felt a wave of disappointment. She frowned as she tried to find some way to stop Hans. “The red-cloaked lady doesn’t know us. We could have stolen these cloaks. We need him,” she said, trying to make sure there was no weakness in her voice.

  Hans glanced at Gretel. “We’ll just tell her that Thomas gave the cloaks to us, that’s all.” He was annoyed. He stepped past her and leaned over the Hound. “Bye-bye, doggy.”

  “Hans,” said Gretel in a sharp, disapproving tone.

  He paused, the tone going right through him. He glared over his shoulder at his twin sister. There was something she didn’t recognize in his eyes, and it curdled her soul.

  “If you’re wrong, this is our new life you’re destroying. Is this what you want?” asked Gretel. “Do you want to show Saul and me that you get your way, no matter the cost to all of us?”

  Hans positioned his rapier above the Hound’s heart. He could see Gretel’s grip on her emotions wavering.

  Fighting any signs of tears, Gretel said in a lower, controlled tone, “We don’t know anything about Thomas. What’s his last name? Where is he from? We know nothing.”

  Saul piped up from behind. “That red-hooded woman had the Hound in her carriage. She stood right beside him. Don’t you think she’d want him alive?”

  Hans thought, pointing his rapier at Saul. “Don’t say a word to me—not a word. Understand?”

  Saul froze.

  Hans sheathed his rapier and started to walk off, then stopped. His head tilted towards the ground, his light-blond hair falling over his eyes. Peeking through it menacingly, he said, “I will find a cart that we can use to load this… thing into. You two stay here. If you follow me or intervene in the slightest, so help me, you’ll wish to be in as good condition as that thing is,” he said, pointing angrily at the Hound.

  Gretel and Saul didn’t move until Hans was out of sight.

  Finally, letting out a breath, Gretel sat down beside the Hound’s head.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Safe House

  The sunbeams gently nudged Christina, Elly, and Franklin towards wakefulness. Christina’s eyes snapped open as a floorboard creaked. She quickly glanced around the room without moving a muscle. To her surprise, Tee was sneaking back into the one-room cabin and heading off to bed.

  Christina had led the team to the safe house in the middle of the night. They’d all agreed that Tee should take the bed, given the injuries she’d sustained in the battle with the Red Hoods.

  Tee carefully slinked through the room, stepping over Elly, who was sleeping protectively at the foot of the bed.

  Franklin sat up and rubbed his face. He noticed Christina’s open eyes. “Morning,” he said, stretching and yawning. “Though I wouldn’t say good, really. This floor is a touch less comfortable than I had imagined, and I’d imagined it to be rather uncomfortable.” He smiled inside as Christina’s nose flared and she shook her head. He figured he might as well enjoy himself, even if he had to admit it was petty.

  Christina sat up and started checking her belt pouches. She’d made it a ritual decades ago to check everything she had on her, and not to assume anything. Finishing with the small hidden pouches at the tops of her boots, she felt settled.

  Christina signaled for Franklin to give her a hand, and they moved the heavy, thick oak table a couple of feet over. Christina reached under the table and pulled out a foot-long stick. She carefully put it into a series of holes in the floor that had been covered by the table legs. With the last poke into the floor, there was a satisfying click and a two-foot-by-two-foot section of the floor raised slightly. Christina grabbed it and revealed darkness below.

  “What’s down there?” asked Tee.

  “That shiner’s looking quite sporting,” said Franklin to Tee.

  Elly roused and stared at him, confused.

  Franklin tried to clarify, “It means—”

  “I figured it out,” said Tee, waving him off.

  Christina waited to see if they were done, and then answered Tee’s original question. “It’s a cellar. It should have dried fruits and meats we can eat.”

  “What is this place?” asked Franklin, studying the simple cabin again. “I thought we were just stopping at random.”

  “What’s what?” asked Mounira, uncurling herself and coming out from under the bed.

  Christina was about to answer, and then hesitated. She stared at Elly and Tee, and thought some more. She smiled as she saw Mounira rub her face with her one arm, her hair a complete mess. The young girl’s ferocity and innocence were wonderfully mixed together.

  “Well?” asked Franklin, a bit offended at her pause.

  Christina shifted her gaze to him and held out for another beat before answering. “It’s a hideout I use every now and then,” she said quickly, leaving everyone feeling there was more to the story.

  Elly surveyed the small cabin. Other than the bed, dresser, table and chairs, it was barren. “I don’t see a lantern or anything we could use for light. It’s a shame our one from last night smashed to pieces just before we got here.”

  “I’m surprised it survived using the sliders down the mountain,” said Mounira.

  “To be honest, I’m surprised you survived that,” said Franklin.

  “I’ve had practice,” said Mounira, winking at Elly and sharing a smile.

  “It’s nice to have a name for the pulleys and weights. ‘Sliders’ works,” said Tee. While Christina had mentioned in passing being responsible for them, she hadn’t said why they’d been built.

  Christina lay on the floor and reached into the dark cellar as far as she could. After a couple of grunts, she managed to snag something and pulled out an old, simple oil lantern. “Elly, there should be a flint and steel in the middle drawer of the dresser there,” she said, pointing.

  A moment later, the lantern was lit and Christina lowered herself into the cellar. She crouched down and got some preserves. She was debating grabbing some other supplies when she saw Franklin’s head pop in through the ceiling and ask, “Are you done? I’m starving. Hey, what is that stuff? Do you need a hand?”

  “No!” said Christina. “I’m coming.”

  “Someone needs a cup of chamomile,” said
Franklin, going back up. “Or maybe a clonk on the head.”

  With their stomachs full and the floor restored to its original state, Christina asked everyone to exit the cabin, allowing her to do a final check to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything.

  As the door closed, Franklin turned to the others. “Christina’s a ripe weird one, right?” he asked, hoping to get some camaraderie going against her.

  Elly glared at Franklin. “Weird? Weird how?”

  Mounira folded her arm across her chest in disapproval.

  Franklin scratched his neck and looked around the misty morning forest. “I don’t know, she’s like… paranoid or something. Like we’re going to go off and tell her enemies all her secrets. Do we even know who she is? I mean, think about it. We’ve never seen her with anyone we know, and yet we’re following her to the ends of Eorthe.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know, she looks like a bit of a weirdo too, don’t you think?”

  Mounira stepped forward, piercing Franklin with her deep brown eyes. Her darker skin stood out in sharp contrast to his. “You’re talking about the brilliant woman who saved your life and everyone else’s? That one, right?” she asked, defending her hero.

  “I don’t find her weird at all,” said Elly with a big smile. She glanced over at Tee to see if she was going to get an elbow to the ribs. Tee hadn’t noticed there was a conversation going on.

  Christina exited the cabin, closing the door firmly behind her. “Okay, now we need to get moving. We have a bit of a hike to get to the horses.”

  Elly, Tee, and Christina started walking. Mounira ran up and took Christina’s hand.

  Franklin stood there. He detested not being in the know. “Hey, guys, did you notice that?” he said, pointing to the smoke in the air south of them.

  “That’s…” Tee searched for the sun in the cloudy sky to orient herself. “That’s Mineau.” She saw Mounira’s hand start to tremble and Christina grab it a bit tighter.