The guard sneered and sheathed his blade. "Very well, but if the creature revives and you stand in our way we won't hesitate to cut you down with the thing."
"I'll be sure to stay clear of your brave swords," Ned sarcastically replied. While the guard fumed, Ned turned to his companions. "Follow me."
Fred cringed and brought up the rear behind the other three. They climbed over fallen trees and broken limbs left by the dragon's crash, and after thirty yards they found the beast on the ground. It lay on its side with a wing over its face. A limb had punctured its side, and blood streamed out onto the dirt. The creature breathed, but didn't move as they approached. Pat looked over the creature and shook her head. "I don't see anything unusual about this dragon."
Ned knelt beside the beast and tested the wing. Nothing was broken. "It's not the dragon that's unusual, but it's behavior. Did any of you notice scorch marks as we traveled through the valley?" They all shook their heads. "Dragons mark their territory by scorching the earth with its breath. This dragon hasn't done that."
"Perhaps it just came into the area?" Ruth suggested.
Ned lifted the wing and allowed them all a glimpse of the creature's face. Its eyes were closed and it breathed harshly. Fred leaned in and frowned. There was something off about the dragon, and it was the same off-ness he'd seen in the old chambermaid. "Perhaps, but that would be a great coincidence and I don't believe in coincidences," Ned replied. "Besides, this dragon is very far southwest. They generally reside along the east coast."
"Ned, there's something wrong with its face," Fred spoke up.
Ned turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "Oh? What is that?"
"The skin looks stretched and fake-"
The dragon's eye shot open and its wing stretched out, knocking Ned onto his butt. It climbed to its feet, but faltered when it found the wound at its side. It roared and stamped its clawed feet. Ruth and Pat dragged Ned out of the way before the dragon's claws crushed him. Fred stepped up with his staff to help how he could, but he stiffened when that large, bright eye captured him in its gaze. It snapped its jaws at him, but at the last second Pat slammed into him and they tumbled to the ground. The dragon turned and stomped toward them, but a beam of light crossed its path. The creature turned and growled at Ned, who stood with his staff at the ready.
Ned scowled back. "I don't know who you are, but take another step toward them and I assure you that wound in your side will be the least of your worries."
The dragon moved back and its lips curled back in a smirk. It spread its wings, jumped into the air and flapped those massive canvases of skin. The companions were blown back by the wind and the dragon quickly rose into the sky. It flew over the trees and had just left their sight when the guards, the lords and Cousin Michael ran up from the path of destruction.
"You stupid old fool, why didn't you kill it?" Cousin Michael screeched. Ned ignored the man, and looked up at the sky with an expression of vexation. The priest stomped over to Ned, but a field of light rose in his path. He knocked into it and fell back onto his butt, and the wall disappeared. His face reddened and his pitch rose to that of nails against chalkboard. "Are you mad? Do you mean to kill us all by showing kindness to everything that means to kill us?"
Ned turned indifferent eyes on the man. "I showed no kindness to you, didn't I?"
"My magic stopped that creature from burning everything to the ground, including us!" Cousin Michael snapped back.
Cousin Michael cringed when Ned swiftly knelt in front of him. Ned's voice was low, firm and dangerous. "Unless reviving the king, if you use that book again in my presence I will turn my fire on you and not the dragon. Do you understand?" Cousin Michael quickly nodded his head. "Good, then I suggest you hide that blasphemous thing from my sight until we have reached the crag."
Ned stood and stalked off back to the camp. Fred stumbled after him, and Pat smiled apologetically at those who remained. "Please forgive him. It's been a long day." She hurried off after the boys with Ruth in tow.
CHAPTER 16
Ned didn't stop at the campsite, but kept going down the road toward the crag. Fred followed a few paces behind, fearful of angering the old castor. Ned mumbled to himself, but the boy couldn't make out any of the words. Pat and Ruth caught up to Fred, and heard the mumblings. "What's he saying?" Pat whispered to him.
Fred shrugged. "No idea, but I'm not going to ask him."
They jumped when Ned glanced over his shoulder and spoke to them. "I was saying words too dark and horrible for young people to read nor hear," he told them.
"More horrible than the dragon we just encountered? It did try to eat Fred," Pat reminded him. Fred cringed at the remembrances of those sharp fangs barreling down on him.
Ned stopped and turned to them. "The dragon had no such intention. They generally roast their meat before eating to avoid their food kicking down their throats. No, this dragon, if we must call it that, intended to snatch him up."
"And carry him off to eat him," Pat stubbornly added.
Ned calmly walked up and rapped her head with his staff. "That was no dragon, and it meant to carry him off."
Pat rubbed her head and scowled at him. "If it flies like a dragon, breathes fire like a dragon, and has awful breath like a dragon, what other thing can it be?"
"A castor very gifted in transformations," Ned replied. The youngsters' eyes widened, but the old castor plopped himself down on the nearest boulder. "Someone wished to stop Fred from coming with us, and showed no qualms about roasting anyone who stopped their intentions."
"But who cares that much about Fred?" Pat wondered. Fred scowled and Ruth patted him on the back, but Pat ignored him.
Ned pulled at his beard and his dark eyes settled on Fred. "Who indeed," he mused.
Fred furrowed his brow when he recalled Martley's wishes for him not to come on their expedition. "I might have an idea," Fred squeaked out.
The girls turned to him, and Ned leaned forward on his staff. "We're listening," Ned replied.
"Um, it might be Martley. She came to our room last night and-"
"She did what?" Pat exclaimed in a decibel high enough to shatter glass.
"She came to our room and wanted me to not come with you guys," Fred finished. "I told her I was going to go, and she didn't seem too happy about that."
Ned furrowed his brow. "Most interesting. Did she give you her reasons?"
Fred shook his head. "No, only that she was bound by a promise not to tell them."
"I knew that woman was a sneak! And I let her touch my hands!" Pat shrieked.
Ruth put her hands on Pat's shoulders. "But we're not sure it was her. Lady Martley may have just been worried about Fred," Ruth pointed out.
"Worried my foot! She wanted him to stay with her!" Pat countered. Ned held up his hand, but Pat didn't even notice. She shook off Ruth's hands, and stomped back and forth. "That woman is not a lady! She would do better as a madam in a brothel than at the side-"
"Pat?" Ned spoke up.
Pat swirled around and glared at him. "What?" she growled.
"Your jealousy is showing," he gently informed her.
Pat blushed and her fists trembled at her sides. "I-I am not!" she stuttered out.
Ned's teasing quieted Pat, and he looked to Fred. "You were telling us about the dragon's face."
Fred blinked and tapped the top of his head. "I was? Oh yeah, it didn't look right. It was stretched, like it was wearing a mask. I saw something like that before on the chambermaid, and I don't think she was a chambermaid."
Pat frowned and narrowed her eyes. "You mean that chambermaid who told us about the tunnel beneath the kitchen?" she asked him.
Fred nodded. "Yeah, that's the one. I asked her who she was and she wouldn't tell me. Just cackled and left."
Ned pulled at his beard. "Very interesting."
"What's interesting? It's obvious she's using magic to hide her appearance," Pat spoke up. "Those breasts probably aren't even real."
"The pay-dirt? He couldn't use it," Pat countered.
"Exactly. He couldn't believe it was real because he innately knew it wasn't real, and that was why the pay-dirt wouldn't change to gold." Ned stood and patted Fred on the shoulder; he had a wide, proud smile on his face. "You're certainly useful. I'm glad I haven't sold you for that two hundred gold pieces. At least not yet."
Fred's shoulders slumped over and his jaw jutted out. "Thanks," he replied.
Ned smiled and nodded. "Anytime."
"Fine, we know somebody, probably that woman Martley, wants Fred. We won't discuss why," Pat told them as she eyed the boys. "So what do we do about it? Do we go back and warn the king about his protege?"
Ned shook his head. "No, we ride forward with Cousin Michael and the others."
"We're to be the first line of defense should something go horribly wrong?" she guessed.
"Precisely."
The companions returned to the campsite and spoke not a word of their conversation to the others. Percy was pleased to see them, and greeted them. "I was worried about you all, but I see Father's advice not to worry was prudent."
"You must learn more patience, Percy. These fine people are able to care for themselves," Sturgeon scolded.
Percy bowed to his stoic father who sat on one of the logs around the fire. "My apologies, Father." Fred rolled his eyes. Pat's prince-charming was a daddy's-boy.
"All is well now," Ned spoke up as he seated himself on one of the logs. "And I'm curious to know how you two came to be out here. You mentioned permission from King Stephen."
Percy smiled and took a seat beside Pat around the fire. Fred grudgingly took one beside Ned. "Oh yes, that. We heard about your leaving for the grave this morning, and Father was worried you wouldn't be safe without a large escort. King Stephen wouldn't grant us any more guards, so we came alone as fast as we could. Rough terrain, isn't it?"
Pat smiled. "Yes, very rough. I wonder no one has tamed the area."
Sturgeon chuckled. "No one will come this far into the valley, not since the battle forty-five years ago. The locals believe it's haunted by the souls of the dead soldiers. Foolishness, of course, but superstitions are hard to disprove," he replied.
Fred cringed and glanced nervously around them. He wasn't generally superstitious, but he was on edge after the fright with the dragon and with a black magic castor in the group. Speaking of which, the priest was missing. Ned noticed, too, and commented on the disappearance. "Where is Cousin Michael?" he asked the lords.
Percy nodded off toward the woods. "He said he required sleep, and took his bed in that direction."
"Then the better for us," Ned piped up. He groaned and arose. "Perhaps for the only time, I will say he has the right idea and will join him. Goodnight."
Sturgeon stood up. "A good idea, we had better all turn in for the night. Tomorrow is another long journey, and the performance of the priest will no doubt be interesting."
The youngsters obeyed, and everyone slept until shortly before sunrise. Their rude awakening came from Cousin Michael and his screeching voice. "Hurry, or we will miss the sunset!" he bellowed.
The youngsters sloughed out of their beds, and even Ned glared at the priest out of one tired eye. They hurried along on their horses, fortunate they could give two to the lords after theirs had run off during the dragon fiasco, and clopped along the narrow, winding trail. Their only stop was for a quick lunch, and at mid-afternoon they made an unplanned stop when the brush and trees tapered and the ground opened up to reveal the remains of the old battlefield.
The devastation stretched from one valley wall to the other, and from where they stood to the crag fifteen miles away. Not even a weed grew among the long-undisturbed barren earth, but rocks jutted out and countless mounds rose up in uneven rows. The shimmering light Fred had seen from the mountains were the swords of the fallen soldiers. The weapons had been driven into the ground as markers for the graves, and the number of buried swords was immense. The group beheld that the far-off crag was scarred with scorch marks and blackened tree stumps.
"My god," he heard Pat whisper. Ruth clung to Pat's back, and her wide eyes showed her horror. Even the horses whinnied and pawed the ground. The guards' eyes flitted around and the banner men neglected their duty of holding the banners high and proud.
"Steady there," Ned murmured to them all. Fred tilted his head back and saw that Ned's face was tense.
"What are we dawdling for?" Cousin Michael barked out. His face was ashen and his hands tightly gripped his reins. He spurred his horse forward and the rest of the company followed.
They made straight for the crag, or as straight as the battlefield would allow them. The trail thinned and broke apart according to the whims of the graves, and the companions spread out and marched forward in an uneven line. They reached the base of the crag with thirty minutes left of daylight, and found a rough walking trail that led up to the flat platform some seventy feet above them. Atop the scrag they could see a large, worn banner with the Galaron emblem woven on its cloth.
Cousin Michael slipped off his horse and handed the reins to a guard. "The king is buried in a cave at the rear of the crag. I must perform the ceremony in view of it," he explained to them.
"Then we will accompany you to view this ceremony," Ned offered. At his direction the four companions dismounted, along with the lords and a few guards, and tramped up the trail.
CHAPTER 17
They reached the top with fifteen minutes to spare before sunset, and Cousin Michael prepared a small circle with instructions from the book. He marked out strange symbols on the ground with white chalk, and set candles at four points to create a square outside the drawn circle. Ned kept his distance with the youngsters at his side. Fred glanced behind them toward the peak of the crag, and he could see why the king chose such a spot. The flat rock jutted out over the graves and held a commanding view of the battlefield. It offered a great view of his old victory, if so many graves could be called a victory. Behind Cousin Michael lay the opening to the tomb, an unnatural cave carved from twelve feet into solid rock. Inside was a giant stone sarcophagus set on two platforms, one larger than the one above it. An image of the king was carved on the lid, and even outside the cave Fred recognized the figure from the fountain.
At sunset Cousin Michael was ready. He lit the white candles and sat back on his legs inside the circle. The book lay open in front of him, and black lettering jumped out from the white pages. With the setting sun at his back, the priest raised his hands above his hand and faced the cave entrance. He held his long knife in one of his hands and positioned the blade over his bare arm. "Oh great Phaeton, bringer of fire and destruction. I call you to resurrect your servant, King Stephen George Frederick Carrot Albert Galaron, to once again taste the sweet joy of life that you bestowed on him and took away." Fred cringed when Cousin Michael sliced his arm open over the old wound, but this time he made a much deeper and longer gash.
Fred turned away when the blood spilled on the ground, and noticed the wind around them picked up. A chill set into his bones and dark clouds swept over them. Fred didn't see him, but he heard the chants of the dark priest. "I offer blood for blood. Transfer my life into our dead king, and give him life. Deus adiuva me."
Fred noticed Ned start, and turned to see Ned's eyes full of wrath and fear. Ned rushed over to the priest and knocked aside the candles. Their lights flickered out, and Fred noticed the symbols on the ground were splashed in blood. They glowed with an eerie light, even after Ned smeared them with his feet. Cousin Michael cried out in fury, but Ned grabbed the man's collar and pulled him straight. The old castor's voice boomed over the wind. "You fool! What spell is that?"
Cousin Michael sneered. "The spell to revive the dead, but you've ruined it!" the priest sna
pped back.
Over the sounds of their bickering and the roaring wind, the group heard a great groan rise from the earth. Trembling, Fred and the others turned toward the edge of the crag. He didn't want to, but Fred knew he had to look over the edge and see what made that noise. He took one hesitant step after another, and didn't notice when Ned dropped Cousin Michael and hurried after him with Ruth and Pat close behind.
Fred reached the edge first, and his eyes widened when he beheld the scarred field alive with things that were very much not alive. Arm bones broke through the mounds above every grave and clawed open gaping holes where arose grinning skeleton heads, fully armored and with burning red flames in their otherwise empty sockets. The skeletons grabbed their swords and pulled them from the ground. One and then another raised their weapon above their heads, and emitted a deep, screeching cry from their empty gullets. Horses with rotted flesh and broken reins broke the surface and whinnied their terrible death cries.
His friends and the guards came up behind him and dropped their jaws in quiet shock. The silence among them was broken by Cousin Michael, who noisily hurried up to them and pushed Fred and Ned aside to get his own glimpse of the valley. He gasped. "This isn't supposed to-"
Ned jumped at him and clasped a hand over the man's mouth, but it was too late. Up till then the skeletons were oblivious to their presence, but with those few words the army turned their glowing sockets on the humans above and below the crag. The men at the base panicked and scrambled up the trail, abandoning their horses to fend for themselves. The beasts raced through the graves, and the skeletons jumped at them like wild animals. None of them made it through the army.
Other skeletons raced after the guards and banner men, and from the trail below them came shrieks of terror and pain. Ned hurried forward with his staff and reached the path at the same time the remaining guards broke over the edge. Skeletons jumped after them, and Ned swung his staff so shafts of light flew at the undead. The light hit the creatures and their bones exploded into dust. Ned positioned himself at the head of the trail and pointed the end of his staff down at the ascending skeletons. A bolt of light shot out from his staff and down the path, obliterating any skeleton in its path and causing the others to retreat.
The Unwilling Apprentice (Book 2) Page 12
