Trials of the Twiceborn (The Songreaver's Tale Book 6)

by Andrew Hunter

  Garrett grinned back at them as he took his sword in both hands, its blade now crusted in steaming ice. “I think I’m getting the hang of this!” he laughed to Haven.

  “You sure you don’t want any help?” Haven asked as she hefted another stone in her hand.

  “Stay out of this, boy!” one of the Astorran’s hissed, “We are here for your master!”

  “Master? Boy?” Haven shouted, her flawless eyes flashing like amber.

  Garrett winced.

  “Send your squire away, and we shall settle this like men!” another knight shouted as he ventured a thrust at Garrett’s flank.

  Garrett turned the strike with his sword and parried another blow just as quickly. “She’s not my...” he started to say.

  “You think I’m a boy?” Haven demanded, tossing aside the rock to advance, barehanded upon the knight who had first offended her.

  “Away with you, whelp!” the knight shouted in annoyance as he tried to split his attention between the deathlord before him and the angry young woman in the brown cloak now threatening him from the side.

  The armored man attempted to shove her away with his lion-crested shield, but Haven quickly rolled behind him and came up to grab the horsehair plume atop the man’s helmet.

  The knight muttered a curse as Haven yanked the helmet backward, his chinstrap pulling tight across his throat as Haven swung him around, tripping him to the ground with a clatter of sword and armor.

  Garrett had to laugh as he watched the furious girl give the unfortunate knight a hard kick to the backside as he struggled to rise. The man stumbled and then rolled down the hill with Haven in close pursuit, cursing the man in languages that Garrett had never heard before.

  The two remaining knights wasted no further time, but joined in desperate attacks to either side of Garrett.

  The Spellbreaker’s spirit roared with laughter as he guided Garrett’s hand in quick ripostes that forced the two men to retreat a short distance, gasping for breath as they recovered from Garrett’s counterattack.

  “I’m with you!” a battered knight shouted as he rejoined the fray. Garrett recognized him as one of the men he had unhorsed earlier. Now three knights moved to surround the wary necromancer.

  “You know you can’t beat me, right?” Garrett laughed as his ice-bound sword shrieked and crackled with fiery power.

  “The true of heart will always triumph over evil!” the battered knight to Garrett’s left panted.

  “That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” Garrett said, turning another series of attacks with his blade.

  “Behold, Kingslayer!” one of the men hissed, “Justice comes swiftly!”

  “Oh, fesche,” Garrett said as he heard the thunder of approaching hoofbeats and turned to see another dozen mounted knights charging up the hillside.

  Garrett crouched low, releasing his two-handed grip on his sword to call an icy ball of magic into existence in his left palm. The air around him steamed and rang with the impacts of sword blows upon the flickering sphere of blue flames that now encircled his body.

  He spun toward the sound of more hoofbeats, approaching rapidly from the other side of the hill, and his eyes went wide at the sight of the Kriessland berserkers, astride stolen Astorran horses, Hegrin in the lead.

  The white-haired berserkers howled like a pack of hungry wolves as they leapt from the backs of their horses to meet the charge of the Astorran knights. They yanked armored men from horseback and slammed them into the ground with bestial roars of rage. The knights cried out in dismay, unable to match the speed and ferocity of these northern wolf-warriors.

  Hegrin pulled a screaming knight from his saddle and hurled him toward the tree at Garrett’s back. Garrett threw himself to the ground to avoid being flattened by the armored knight. He gritted his teeth at the sickening crunch of steel and bone and tree bark.

  The old berserker roared as he tossed men aside like ragdolls, fighting his way toward the stunned girl in brown who watched her adopted father smash a path through the panic-stricken knights to reach her.

  Overwhelmed and demoralized, those Astorrans that still stood or rode now fled the hill in every direction.

  A white-haired wolf warrior turned, snarling, toward Garrett, having no more Astorrans left to fight.

  Garrett raised his free hand non-threateningly and lowered his sword as the slavering barbarians circled him like a cornered rabbit.

  “Leave him!” Hegrin shouted, saliva running down his beard as he strode up the hill with Haven clutched in his arms.

  Haven greeted Garrett with a bemused grin. “My dad,” she laughed.

  Hegrin glared at Garrett for a long moment before setting the girl on her feet again. He turned his head slightly and spat the rest of the foam from his lips. “You should be more careful, bone-man!” he growled.

  “Yeah,” Garrett said, eying the snarling pack of barbarians warily.

  “Are you hurt?” Hegrin asked as he brushed his massive hand over Haven’s hair.

  “I’m fine!” she said, smiling up at the big man, “Thanks for coming to save us.”

  “We came to save you,” Hegrin said to Haven before turning a hard glare in Garrett’s direction.

  Haven did her best to wrap her arms around Hegrin’s chest and gave him a hug. “Thanks,” she said.

  Hegrin pulled free, jabbing his finger at Garrett. “You are too careless!” he growled.

  Save your breath, friend, the voice in Garrett’s mind sighed, The boy won’t listen to me either.

  Garrett bit back a few choice words as he kicked the last of the icy crust from his blade and wiped it dry on his robe. The Kriesslanders gave him a few more dirty looks as they retrieved their horses and rounded up those left behind by the Astorrans. They took the weapons of the few knights that still lay, scattered across the hillside.

  Hegrin pressed his shaggy beard against Haven’s forehead and whispered, “Be more careful!”

  “I will,” she sighed, “Thanks again.”

  Hegrin took his leave with one final warning growl for Garrett’s benefit, mounting his horse again beside his fellow Kriesslanders.

  Garrett watched them go with a sullen frown.

  “I don’t think my father approves of my boyfriend,” Haven laughed as she took Garrett’s hand.

  “Yeah,” Garrett said, “I kinda got that impression.”

  He looked toward Haven then to find her looking down at the front of her tunic as she plucked at the fabric with her fingers.

  “Do I look like a boy to you?” she demanded.

  Garrett leaned over and kissed her scowling lips.

  Chapter Eleven

  Garrett and Haven rode together astride Astorran horses in the fading light of day. The Kriesslandic berserkers seemed comfortable enough atop their stolen mounts to keep the herd of riderless warhorses moving along the broad road that led from the battlefield back to the village of Plank where the Gloarans made camp.

  Garrett kept looking back over his shoulder, feeling a little uneasy about having left his undead army behind.

  “They’ll be fine,” Haven chided him, “Cenick knows what he’s doing, and anyway, there isn’t an Astorran who still owns a sword within twenty miles of this place.”

  “We shoulda stayed with them,” Garrett sighed.

  “Well, I’m hungry, and I’m tired of eating jerky and moldy bread,” Haven said.

  Garrett said nothing. He had to admit that he was looking forward to a hot meal after a long day of stealing things from the Astorrans. In the end, he had traded seventy-three zombies and sixty-two skeleton warriors for nearly two hundred horses and several wagonloads of weapons and bits of armor. Seventeen Astorran knights had been found, too badly injured in the melee to flee the field, and Lady Ymowyn had stayed behind with Cenick to treat their wounds before sending them on their way. Garrett had no desire to start taking prisoners, and he was too tired to keep up the guise of a merciless destroyer of men, no matter how much the voice in hi
s head protested his leniency.

  He chewed his lip as he realized that he still had one prisoner to deal with yet. No, Sir Baelan was Lady Ymowyn’s prisoner, and he was going to have to have a chat with her very soon about what should be done with him.

  “That’s impressive!” Haven laughed as they turned a bend in the road and came into sight of Plank. When they had left the village that morning its only inhabitants had been a small pack of bored ghouls, their Lethian mascot, one morosely introverted Astorran knight, and a ninety-year-old Astorran woman and her two grandchildren who had been the only villagers not to flee at the Gloarans’ arrival. Now the air above the village hung thick with the colorful glow of thousands of floating wisps, and the sweet smoke of cook fires. The merry notes of a fairy jig, played on harp and pipes greeted the weary horse thieves as they returned to camp.

  Garrett squinted at the sight of young fauns and centaurs playing tag between the stone walled huts of the outer village, and the little flocks of fairies that darted from thatched roof to thatched roof.

  “Where did they all come from?” Garrett asked.

  “We called a Greenmeet,” a voice spoke from the bushes beside the road, startling Garrett and Haven.

  “Mister Mualip!” Garrett cried, greeting the otter-like selkie that stepped silently from the bush with a little wave of his paw.

  “It’s just Mualip, if you please,” the selkie said as he trotted along beside Garrett’s horse.

  “Sorry, but what’s a Greenmeet, and where did all these fae people come from?” Garrett asked.

  “Lady Browelle asked the trees to spread the word that representatives of the Amber Court had arrived, and she asked that any fae folk in the area come to meet with us here to discuss... well, anything and everything. I believe that it has been quite some time since a member of the Court has traveled so far north, so, it seems to have drawn a great many curious fae, including, I believe, most of the wisps in Taelish. They seemed quite keen to visit somewhere that was still... inhabited.”

  “Oh,” Garrett said, “I don’t want to get in the way of your meeting.”

  “You are the primary subject of discussion, Deathlord,” Mualip said, “Your presence is most welcome.”

  “You don’t have to call me Deathlord,” Garrett laughed, “We just do that to scare the Astorrans.”

  The selkie’s green eyes blinked in confusion. “You enjoy... scaring people?” he asked.

  “Well, no, not really,” Garrett admitted, “but, if you have to fight somebody, it’s better if they’re at least a little scared of you... That way, they’re more likely to run away, and then you won’t have to really hurt them.”

  “Ah,” Mualip sighed, looking just as confused as before.

  “What were you doing out here?” Garrett asked.

  “Oh,” Mualip said, looking a little embarrassed, “Some of the fauns said that they saw a shufflefoot hiding in the forest nearby, and I was hoping to spot it and see if it meant us any harm.”

  “Shufflefoot?” Haven asked.

  “I think he means a human,” Garrett said.

  “Oh,” Haven said.

  “Have I given offense?” Mualip asked.

  “No,” Garrett laughed, “I’ve been called much worse things than a shufflefoot before.”

  Mualip smiled back at him.

  “I’d better check it out,” Haven sighed, reining her horse to the side of the road as though preparing to dismount.

  “Later,” Garrett said, “You need to eat first.”

  “I don’t want whoever it is to get away,” Haven protested, “It might be a spy.”

  “Then they can go tell little prince Cabre that I’m in league with all the fairies in the world,” Garrett laughed, “Wouldn’t that make him wet his frilly silk pants?”

  “He wears frilly silk pants?” Haven asked.

  “Probably,” Garrett said.

  “And what if Cabre sent an assassin?” she asked.

  “Then he’ll probably still be here waiting to kill me after dinner,” Garrett said, leaning over to tug at the bridle of her horse, “Come on. I’m hungry!”

  “Fine!” she sighed, “But only because the grumbling in my belly is overriding my better judgment.”

  “Your belly grumbles?” Garrett asked.

  “Well, not really,” Haven said, “but it’s what you shufflefoots like to say when you’re hungry, isn’t it?”

  “Shufflefeet,” Garrett corrected her.

  “You aren’t human?” Mualip asked, giving Haven a curious look.

  “No,” Haven said, “I’m a type of fae as well, couldn’t you tell?”

  The selkie shook his seal-like head. “You look like a human to me,” he said, “Though I do not have a great deal of experience with your kind.”

  “See!” Garrett said, gesturing toward Mualip with his free hand, “Even Mualip here thinks you’re a human.”

  “Hmn,” Haven said, uncertain whether to take it as a compliment or not.

  “Hey, Gar!” Diggs called as he emerged from one of the outlying buildings with a pair of large white ghouls at his side, “Look who we found!”

  A thrill of uncertainty went through Garrett’s chest as he remembered his last encounter with the White Pack, but the pair of wolfish white ghouls that stood with Diggs seemed friendly enough, greeting the approaching column of horses and riders with hungry grins.

  Hegrin and the other berserkers reined their horses in, converging on the pair of newcomers before dropping from their saddles and approaching the two ghouls. Garrett and Haven watched in apprehension, and Diggs retreated a few steps with a look of bewilderment on his face as the group of Kriesslanders surrounded the two white ghouls, sniffing and growling like animals. The two lean wolf-ghouls bared their fangs and turned slowly, keeping their dark eyes on the white-haired men as they flared their nostrils, taking in the northmen’s scent as well.

  Garrett looked at Haven, wondering if he was going to have to break up some sort of dogfight in the middle of the road. She stared back at him with equal confusion, and Mualip huddled behind the ample rump of Garrett’s horse for protection.

  Suddenly Hegrin laughed, and his grin spread through the ranks of his men like a fire in dry grass.

  The two white ghouls laughed as well, their long jaws hanging open in hissing laughter as they took turns embracing each of the northmen in their long furry arms.

  Garrett breathed a sigh of relief, holding back as Hegrin waved Haven over to meet the newcomers. Her horse wanted nothing to do with the ghouls, so she swung down and crossed the last few yards toward them on foot.

  Garrett could see the distrust in the white ghouls’ eyes as they sniffed at Haven, but Hegrin’s word seemed sufficient to earn her a place in their strange pack, and they both shared an awkward embrace with her in the fashion of the northmen.

  “I want you to meet Garrett,” Haven said, waving for him to approach.

  Garrett climbed down from his saddle and let his horse retreat to the safety of the herd. He looked toward Mualip, but the nervous little selkie only muttered some excuse before disappearing behind a nearby building.

  “I told ‘em all about you, Gar,” Diggs said, stepping up to put his arms around the two white ghouls, the golden bravery medallion on his chest, freshly polished, sparkled in the light of the wisps hovering curiously above. “This is Mink and Luma,” He said, “They were in the area when they caught wind of us and thought they’d have a look.”

  “Hi, pleased to meet you,” Garrett said, lifting his hand in greeting. He started to take a step toward Haven, but Hegrin’s hand lay on her shoulder, and a stern frown hung on his face.

  “They know Warren’s uncle,” Diggs said, “and they’re interested in helping us however they can... as long as he doesn’t tell ‘em otherwise.”

  “Warren’s uncle is here?” Garrett asked, not at all certain that he wanted to meet the monstrous shape-shifting wolf ghoul again.

  “Not here,” Mink
said, her dark eyes narrowed slyly, “but he’s never too far away.”

  Luma gave a hissing laugh.

  Garrett smiled politely, hoping that he would get a chance to warn Lady Ymowyn. The fox woman was not fond of Warren’s uncle Raikja.

  “Anyway, you guys have got to try some of these pies!” Diggs said.

  “What pies?” Haven asked.

  “Gammi Boots’s pies,” Diggs said, “That old lady can cook!”

  “The Astorran lady?” Garrett asked.

  “Yeah,” Diggs said, “We just been roundin’ up all the food in town and dumpin’ it at her house, and she sends out pies! She’s like a magic oven or somethin’! You just shovel flour and stuff in the door, and out the window comes pies!”

  “I better see about this,” Garrett groaned, “Knowing you guys, you’re probably working the poor old woman to death.”

  Diggs frowned. “Don’t mess this up for me, Gar!” he grumbled, “I never had a magical pie grandma before!”

  “So,” the she-ghoul known as Luma spoke up, “What do you plan to do with the horses?”

  Garrett looked at the nervous throng of Astorran horses and then at the two salivating white ghouls. It was not a decision he wanted to make right now.

  “Ask Hegrin,” Garrett said, nodding toward the grim-faced Kriesslander, “They’re his.”

  Hegrin furrowed his brow in astonishment, his frown melting into a confused curl of his mustache.

  “I’ll see you later, Dad,” Haven said, kissing Hegrin lightly on his bearded cheek, “Garrett and I have to go save an old lady from a bunch of ravenous ghouls.” She gave Garrett a merry grin as she took his hand and led him through the pack of silent northmen.

  “I’ll see you girls later,” Diggs said pointing his long black foreclaws at each of the white ghouls and winking. He loped into step beside Garrett as the three of them made their way toward the far side of town, dodging the occasional bunch of fae children that pranced and tumbled through the village streets around them.

  As they approached the old cottage where the widow woman lived, they spotted the woman’s twin granddaughters playing in the yard with a trio of young fauns and a teenaged centauress who seemed to be their babysitter, while a flock of wisps danced in the air overhead.