“So what?” I repeated, raising my voice. “One red cape got away and the duke will know where we are. He’ll send his army for us. Who’s to say we can’t fight back?”
“He’ll burn down the whole forest trying to get to us,” spoke up one person.
“We’ve held off water,” I said. “We can hold off flames as well.”
“But they outnumber us,” spoke up another.
“So we’ll just have to fight better than they do,” I said.
The crowd below hummed with discontented murmurings. They’re saying I’m crazy, I thought. Maybe they’re right, but I’m tired of running!
“Hey!” I said sharply. “Listen up. We call ourselves rebels. Rebels fight! Until now, we’ve really just been refugees. We’ve let that Larlathian tyrant run us out of our homes. Are we going to do it again? Just let him chase us out of here like we’re nothing but a bunch of rodents?”
“I’m not a wodent,” Noemi spoke up from her mother’s arms.
I gave the girl a grateful smile. Then I scowled at the adults. “Well, are we? Yes, we are outnumbered, but we’ve got magic and brute force—”
“And cannons!” shouted Joyboy.
“—and cannons,” I added. “This place is home now. It may not be Ivywild, but it’s what we’ve got. If we can’t defend it then we aren’t fit to lay claim to the castle. You want Faylinn back? Start right here.”
“Hear hear!” shouted Valory.
To my surprise, many other voices answered with a loud, “HEAR HEAR!”
The rebels had been catalyzed. All I’d done was speak my mind and, to my great relief, they’d actually listened.
But now they needed direction. Normally I would have looked to Lord Finbarr to tell me what to do, but I was the one in the spotlight. They were looking to me and I knew I had to be able to back up my bravado.
“You,” I said, pointing to the handful of resident Channelers. “Take the injured hostages down to the lowest level and stock up any supplies you’ll need for mending. The children and others who are unable to fight will join you. Where is Captain Sandrine?”
The blind Hobgoblin was standing near the door. She waved her cane angrily, almost hitting Bayard Barrie. “Don’t make me hide out with the feebles and the children!”
“I wouldn’t dare,” I said with a grin. “I want you to supervise the cannons and any other weapons you were able to salvage from the ship. Take some helpers and have them gather anything you can use for ammunition.”
Sandrine smiled. “That’s honest work. I only wish Dr. Splitfoot were here to join in. Bayard! Pick some stout young lads to give us a hand!”
“Aye aye, Captain!” Bayard shouted, leaping into action.
I went on to break up the rest of the rebels into six different crews all charged with gathering of supplies, fortifying the hall exterior, helping the Channelers, or practicing their magic. Lord Finbarr watched the process, nodding his approval or making suggestions as he saw fit. The only people I didn’t dare to boss around were the Slaugh. I avoided them until last.
Lev still appeared to be in some kind of depression. Of all the people in the world, he was the last I’d expect to worry about a battle. He was not charged up like the others. I thought he would give his people their own orders, but instead he waited, staring into space and not looking at all like the king he was supposed to be.
His hesitance affected the other Slaugh. They milled about, rasping their wings in uncertainty. They had no role to fill unless he gave it to them.
Only one of the Slaugh was in high spirits.
“What’r you ladies and gents loafing around here for?” Valory asked. “Your wings still work, don’t they?”
“Shut up,” Katriel said. “We’ve already fought once tonight.”
“Good, you’re already warmed up,” Valory said, unfazed. “I’ll tell you what. I’ve done some trapping in my time. I reckon a red cape ain’t much different than any other varmint. Let’s use fallen timbers and set up some traps, what do you say?”
They just glared at her.
Lev stirred. “Go,” he said to the others. “Set up traps. Patrol the air. All report back here in half an hour.”
Without question they did as he asked. Valory flew off to join them.
“How much time do you think we’ve got?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No telling. Minutes. Days.”
It was just the two of us now in the main hall. Lev stayed rooted in place. Everything about his appearance spoke of sorrow and defeat.
It was more than I could take. I gave him a nudge. “Wake up. What’s wrong with you?”
He turned his back on me and stared at the floor. “It’s my fault,” he said. “I lost the red cape. He escaped because I hesitated.”
“So.”
He turned around to face me. “I’ve started it. There’s no turning back now. Everything is set in motion and it won’t stop until…”
Destiny again. Lev really did have his mother’s gift. “You can see that?” I asked. “You see the threads?”
“All entwined now,” Lev said sadly. His eyes were full of such grief that it made my mouth go dry. “One of them is about to break.”
I shivered. I didn’t like him this way. I’d rather he hate me than look into me with those grief-filled eyes and speak to me with the voice a prophet.
“Don’t,” I said. “Just stop. We need you here right now. The future can wait.”
Something cold wrapped around my hand. I jumped and then realized it was his fingers.
“I’m scared,” he said.
It was the ultimate confession any Slaugh could make. Hearing it and seeing him and knowing he truly meant it was like having the whole world pulled out from under my feet.
“But…why?” I asked. “What’s to be scared of? Death?”
He looked away and said nothing. Whatever he was thinking, it was too powerful for words.
“I’ve been to the other side,” I said. “I’ve seen the Twi-Realm. It is scary, but when you’re there…well, you’re still you. You still exist. I could live with that—or, I guess, I could die with that, as long as I knew my friends were safe here.”
He studied me keenly. “You’ve been? How?”
“One of my beasts took me there.” It was the simplest explanation I could think of because I hadn’t worked out yet exactly how it did happen.
He nodded. At what, I could only guess. He let go of my hand and slid the red dagger out of its scabbard on his belt.
“Take this,” he said. “It is useless to me.”
Stunned, I took the dagger. “So you never found the lock?”
Pain flickered up into his face again. “I wasn’t looking for the lock. I just wanted to keep the dagger away from you.”
“Why?”
He didn’t answer. He turned and walked to the drawbridge. A humid breeze blew in from the forest. “Tell me something,” he said. “Do you believe in miracles?”
It was the strangest question he’d ever asked me. Still dumbfounded from the return of my dagger, I wasn’t sure how to answer. “I guess so,” I said. “I mean, I’d like to think they can happen but I don’t count on them. Why?”
He took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. “Because if we have to fight the duke right now, we will fail,” He glanced over his shoulder at me. “If you can’t count on miracles then you’d better count on somebody, because we’re going to need all the help we can get.”
***
Far below the ground in the tunnels of Ayerie Keep, the queen of the Fay was having a hard time.
“Why must it be so dark?” she cried out. “Garland, turn your crystal back on!”
“I must conserve my energy,” he said regretfully. “It is a long way yet until we reach the cross-reference to the book in the castle.”
With a groan, Chloe groped the ceiling of the rocky tunnel to make sure she wasn’t about to bump her head. The abandoned mine tended to narrow unexpect
edly and she already had many nasty bruises.
“Bazzlejet, what about you? Make yours glow!” she demanded.
“No point in it,” Bazzlejet said from somewhere in the gloom behind her. “We just keep feeling our way forward. Hey, I found something.”
Chloe felt a palm on her backside. She spun around and slapped Bazzlejet in the face. “It wasn’t funny the first time and it’s not funny now! Be respectful!”
“It was an accident, Your Highness.”
“Please, you two,” Garland said. “It’s not much further until we’re out of the mines.”
“How did you ever find your way through here?” Chloe asked. “If I’d come to this mess, I’d have gone back.”
“I was persistent,” Garland said. “I was keen to get to the other side.”
“Yeah,” Bazzlejet said with a snicker. “Because what was on the other side sure was pretty.”
“What are you talking about?” Chloe asked.
“Why, Garland’s lovely lady friend,” Bazzlejet said. He let out a whistle. “Miss Anouk Makoti, formerly of the green cloth.”
“Oh,” Chloe said as she stumbled over a rock. “You mean Emma’s tutor? Wow, Garland. Aren’t you brash? Who’d have thought you could lure a young lady away from the clergy?”
“I didn’t lure her away,” Garland said. “She chose to leave after she found out what a bunch of lunatics they are. Now let’s see…there’s a lever up here somewhere.”
“Way to change the subject, Finbarr,” Bazzlejet said.
There came a click and then a grinding noise. A door opened above, letting daylight spill inside the mine shaft. A rickety ladder led up to the opening.
Chloe squinted in the sudden light. “Will we be in a different book when we go through there?”
“Yes,” Garland said. “Just two more cross-references after that until we reach the book Anouk had. I hope it is still in her room.”
“Better yet that it’s been returned to the castle library,” Chloe said. “That way we won’t have to cross the market square.”
“Either way, I’m a master of disguise,” Bazzlejet said. “Those red capes will never know I’m there.”
“Don’t be so cocky,” Chloe said.
“Yeah,” Garland said. “Besides, I’m not so sure you can go through to the castle. See, the last book, the one Anouk had, is a rather wayward perspective on cathedral life written by a clergy outsider. This poor author tried to become a priest but was rejected. He wrote the book out of spite and he slightly exaggerated some of the finer points in clergy customs.”
“Such as?” Chloe asked.
“You know how they have an impurity stigma?” Garland said. “To get into the cathedral, you have to pass their code of standards. If you’re found to be impure, The Door won’t let you pass. In this author’s version, not only can you not pass, but you are immediately devoured by Luciferian Goredragons that the cathedral keeps as pets.”
Chloe snorted. “But it’s just a book.”
“And we’re in it, so therefore subject to its rules,” Garland said.
“Well then it depends on his version of what ‘impure’ means,” Bazzlejet said. “Am I impure if I’ve snuck sips of ale and chased after Nymphs?”
“And worn ladies’ underwear,” Chloe mumbled.
Garland raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. There is only one unforgivable transgression according to the real cathedral rules, and I’ve broken it.”
Wide-eyed, Chloe asked, “What is it?”
“I have fallen in love,” Garland said. “I was merely infatuated the first time I came through here, but now there is no hope for me. I am madly, deeply, irrefutably in love with Anouk.” He sighed, then smiled.
“Hmmm,” Chloe said, thinking hard. “I don’t think I’ve ever fallen in love, so I’m probably safe.”
“Certainly, Your Highness, you are up to their standards,” Garland said. “As for you—” he glanced sideways at Bazzlejet.
Bazzlejet shrugged innocently. “Hey, just because I can charm the ladies doesn’t mean I’ve ever given one my heart. Life’s too short and I’m too young and handsome to settle, you know what I mean?”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “Are we gonna stand here and chat, or are we going to climb that ladder?”
Bazzlejet balked. “I’m not climbing that tattered old thing!” His wings blossomed behind him. “See you at the top.”
He had a point. Chloe made her own wings appear. She flew to the top of the mine shaft and basked gratefully in the sunshine. They were in an open field. Everything had a reddish cast to it. At first glance the waving grasses in the distance appeared to be on fire.
Chloe stared in awe. “What the?”
“The author here had a curse on his eyesight,” Garland explained as he landed next to Chloe. “He was also a painter. His works were noted for their vibrant red pigments.”
“It’s going to give me a headache,” Bazzlejet said, covering his eyes.
“Deal with it,” Chloe said as she set off at a brisk pace. “We must make better time! At this rate, Mother and the others will reach Woodman’s Hall before we even get to the castle!”
She did feel a great deal of urgency. She had not imagined the duke’s takeover could be so swift and so complete. Had her kingdom really been so fragile? She was ashamed. What would Father say? She had let him down and she’d let herself down. All she wanted was to make it right as quickly as possible.
“Hey Finbarr,” Bazzlejet said, “You really mean what you said? About being in love?”
“Of course I do,” Garland said. “I plan to marry Anouk.”
“Yikes,” Bazzlejet said. “You know how hard it is to improve your magic once you settle down. Are you really content to be an Emerald Rank the rest of your life?”
“As long as I spend the rest of my life with her I don’t care what crystal rank I am,” Garland said.
Chloe tossed Bazzlejet an indignant look over her shoulder. “Stop being so nosy. What’s it matter to you, anyways?”
“Just curious,” Bazzlejet said. “You know, that’s why Uncle Frayne never got married. Dad said Uncle Frayne had lots of girls chasing him when he was young, but he never gave in. He knew he had it in him to be a Diamond Rank.”
“Thank goodness for the rest of us that he did,” Chloe said. “He put protection of the kingdom above all else.”
They carried on in silence for a while after that, but Chloe had been touched deeply by Commander Larue’s sacrifice. A feeling that had been nagging her lately surfaced with new strength. She owed something to her kingdom. All the selfish years she’d wasted at the castle came back to haunt her. If only I could fix this, she thought. If only I could make things right, I’d give my all from now on.
Could she really do that? Throw away her own heart’s desires, forsake everything that she used to feel entitled to—all in the name of duty? For the first time in her life she peered deep into her own soul and saw the person that she truly wanted to become.
“I will never marry,” she said aloud. “If I can earn the throne back, that will be enough. I don’t know if I have it in me to be a Diamond Rank, but I am quite powerful. I should use that to help people.”
She had been talking and walking at the same time so it took her a few moments to realize that the other two had stopped. They hung back, staring at her as though she’d just said she was going to swallow a cartload of crickets.
Chloe turned and looked back at them. “What’s the holdup?”
“Do you hear yourself?” Garland asked. “You’ve told me ever since we were wee tots that you were going to marry a handsome prince and invent a potion to keep you both young so you could live at the castle forever.”
Chloe placed her hands on her hips. “I also used to say I wanted a hundred pet unicorns and to eat nothing but sweet petal icing all day long. I’m serious, Garland. If I live through this, I’m going to be an old spinster queen. I’ll take care of all the hard stuff s
o people like you and Anouk can live happily ever after.” She grew more excited the more she talked about it. “It’ll be like I’m married to the throne and all the people of Faylinn are my children!”
Garland scratched his green curls. “But you’re a queen. You’re expected to marry and have children!”
“I’ll let Violet worry about that,” Chloe said. “She can carry on the family line.”
“Um…how well do you know your sister, exactly?” Bazzlejet asked.
“Well enough, I should think. Why?”
Bazzlejet just shook his head. “No reason.”
Garland continued to balk, but Chloe’s mind was made up. A great feeling of peace overcame her. For once she was absolutely certain about something. Her future was no longer a misty cloudbank, full of things to terrify and confuse. The fog rolled away and she could see a vast landscape of possibilities stretching out to the horizon. It was all hers to protect if she could reclaim it.
They came to the last book some hours later, long after they’d left the fiery red fields behind. They were weary, having flown or walked the equivalent of a day’s journey.
The last cross-reference brought them to Ivywild’s own cathedral—or, at least the literary version of it. The building loomed over its patch of ground like some engorged beast. The roof, having been described by the author as overly pointed with nasty jagged accents, looked like a spine of wicked horns jutting into the sky. The hooded figures of priests and priestesses scuttled around the grounds. They all cackled and rubbed their hands together and were repulsive to the point of being comical.
“The chap who wrote this wasn’t bitter, was he?” Bazzlejet said.
Chloe started to say something but then choked because she saw a caricature of High Priestess Grimmoix flogging a pupil with a cane. The author had drawn the priestess with a nose the size of a jester’s shoe.
“I daresay his version of the High Priestess is more accurate than some,” Garland said.
Chloe snickered. “Emma would probably agree.”
“This is where I leave you,” Garland said. “Go into the cathedral sanctuary. Inside there is a hole.”
The Flute Keeper's Promise (The Flute Keeper Saga) Page 39
