by Ayer, T. G.
“What is this place?” I asked Anjelo, keeping my voice low. Every sound seemed to travel unnaturally far at the height.
“Widd’en’s men have taken this castle. The castle and the grounds around it belong to a nobleman, a Wrythiin lord of the North Plains. He’s a representative of the king in this area, but obviously Widd’en’s men no longer recognize the power of the king.”
“What have they done to the lord?” I asked, afraid he would say the man had been beheaded and his head placed at the entrance of the castle on a spike. I gave a preemptive shudder even before he spoke.
Instead, Anjelo said, “He and his family were thrown out in just the clothes on their backs. Thankfully, they made it to a crofter’s hut in the hills just to the east of here. They sent a message to the king, and that’s how we heard Widd’en’s men were here.”
“Seemed a bit stupid to let the lord know who they were,” I said.
“They didn’t. They took over the castle wearing masks, but one of the children managed to catch sight of a sword. His description matched that of the hilt of the sword of one of Widd’en’s generals. It was only by chance we knew they were here.”
“So why did we have to wait for the mole’s message when we already had intel that Widd’en’s men were here?” I asked, irritated. Had Illyria just been playing us?
“Because we weren’t sure if the army had split and went separate ways. If they had, we couldn’t be sure where your mother was being held. Then a trek all this way would have been pointless.” I listened and nodded. But though it made sense, I was impatient. I forced myself to relax and keep my edginess in check.
We were so close.
We waited on the ridge, shivering and silent. It didn’t take long for the general to decide on his attack strategy, and a soldier appeared to advise us. He kept his hood pulled well over his face, only a hint of shine within the shadowed cowl confirming he even had eyes. I disliked these hoods even more today than I ever did before.
The Wraith cleared his throat and stiffened his spine before speaking. “The general wishes for you to remain out of sight. He will come to see you once we are all in position. He wishes to talk to the shape-changer.” With that he spun on his heel, his cloak flapping at his knees, and left us.
The line of Wraiths to our left shuffled, while the sound of boots and voices traveled up to us as the regiment began to move down the mountain. Below us, I could just make out the base of the north side of the mountain. It lay hidden from view of the castle by a small but thick forest of gigantic black trees. Though they gleamed as black as soot, unlike the claw-like trees from the Dead Plains, I could see they were also alive; black and grey leaves covered the thick branches as they spread out around the trunk. I could swear they were very similar to the ash trees from back home.
We made it down the side of the mountain, our progress hidden by gigantic boulders and pillars of stone that guarded the pathway. I wondered where their sentries were. Were Widd’en’s men so confident in their hiding place that they didn’t bother to watch the mountainside, or was this just an elaborate trap? I shuddered at the thought as we made it to the base of the mountain. I sank beside Cassandra as Anjelo left to speak to the other soldiers.
We hid within the shadows of the trees for a while, remaining silent while peering between the trees to study the specter of the castle ahead. Draped in early morning shadows, it gave off an eerie air. I suppressed a chuckle. It wasn’t just my imagination running wild because I knew it was currently occupied by a bunch of murderous, soul-sucking monsters.
Anjelo took a while and we settled to waiting. Nothing moved on the grounds around the building, and it looked like the place was asleep. But experience told me assumption could lead to trouble.
A soft rustle in the bushes to our right announced the arrival of Anjelo and Wren’do, who looked neither happy nor triumphant at the status of our mission. He crouched down and addressed Cassandra. He even looked at her face, which was a mile of progress right there. I decided he’d just moved up in my esteem. “What kind of strategy are you proposing once you enter the castle walls?”
Cassandra’s expression was clear and businesslike, her accent so perfectly British it was almost amusing when considering she was conversing with a demon. “I can either go completely invisible or I can assume the form of a few different people. Do you have a preference?” she asked.
He grunted, then looked at the ground for a moment as he considered his options. Then he glanced up, his eyes pools of darkness. “I would suggest the former of your strategies. That way you can search the castle and find the location of the Hunter, then return to us undetected. I might need your services once you return from the reconnaissance.”
“Very well. I might need to take the form of another of Widd’en’s men in case I need to pass a guarded door, but for the most part I will remain invisible.”
He stared at her for a moment as if suddenly reminded she was there. Then he gave a curt nod and turned on his heel, disappearing into the shadows so fast I almost doubted he’d even been there in the first place.
Cassandra grunted. “Arrogant prick,” she said, her accent making the swearword sound odd to my ears.
I laughed softly and glanced at her. “You ready?” She nodded, dusting herself off. She shrugged the heavy cloak from her shoulders and retained only the thin leather one we all wore. Then she smiled at me and disappeared into thin air. I felt the pat of a warm hand on my shoulder and then nothing.
She’d gone.
***
More than an hour later, and just when I was beginning to wonder if she would make it back alive, a rustling sounded along the ground beside me. I sighed with relief as Cassandra took form. She sank to the ground, out of breath and shivering. I threw her fur cloak around her and she gave me a grateful glance, tucking the folds around her.
“Take your time and rest,” I urged, even though I really wanted her to talk immediately.
She was kind enough to hurry up and rest. Moments later, she said, “I have her location. Perhaps we need to find the general.”
“No need to go looking for me,” he said as he walked up to us, his footsteps silent. I frowned as I looked up at him and wondered if he had someone watching us. “What can you tell me?” His attention remained fully on Cassandra’s face.
The shape-changer cleared her throat. “Celeste is in the prison beneath the castle. There are twenty or so cells, all individual rooms with strong, thick doors. Celeste is located in the northeast corner.”
The general nodded, then turned on his heel and left us standing there.
I gritted my teeth again and said, “That Wraith makes me want to do to him what I did to the charming Widd’en.”
“And what exactly was that?” asked Cassandra, her voice prim and her expression curious.
She paled a little when I said, “Rip out his throat with my teeth.”
***
Chapter 22
The general didn’t linger too long before gathering up his men and sending word for us to meet him down the line. We wasted no time in hurrying over to him, practically following the messenger at his heels when he turned to leave. I wanted to get moving fast, concerned more for the fact that the day was getting brighter and we wouldn’t have shadows to hide our approach if we waited any longer.
Wren looked up as we arrived. He didn’t wait to speak. “I have been instructed to allow you to go with us when we enter the castle. Although I do not agree, I am duty-bound to fulfill my orders. Thus, you will join us, but be warned. My soldiers are not here for your protection. You are to ensure you do not do anything to attract attention, to endanger my men, or to thwart our efforts to capture the castle and free the Hunter.” I couldn’t gauge his expression, but his words were cold enough for me to get his meaning.
We remained silent in the wake of his icy monologue, and he seemed to take our lack of response as agreement. Then he turned to face his men and, in one smooth move, gave th
e signal to head out. We crouched down and followed the line of men as they scurried forward.
When we paused, I dug inside my satchel, the leather still giving off a damp odor, and withdrew my bow. After a quick inspection, I was satisfied the mechanisms were all in working order and the water hadn’t damaged anything. I had loaded the bow with Wraith ammo before leaving my apartment, so the weapon was ready.
I dug deeper for a second firearm, a Glock Tara had repurposed for her special Wraith and demon ammunition. It too seemed to be functional. And when I popped the clip, it was dry and in good order. Satisfied, I turned to Anjelo and handed him the gun.
He raised an eyebrow but still took the Glock and checked the chamber and clip for himself. Then he readied the weapon, took off the safety, and turned his gaze back to the expanse of lawn between us and the castle.
Wren had decided to take only a dozen of his regiment, with the balance to enter in a second wave and only on his signal. Another smart move on the part of the surly Wraith. We ran from tree to tree, using the wide black trunks to mask our invasion. Still, I got the distinct feeling it was far too easy.
As we neared the end of the small forest, the raucous sound of cawing suddenly rent the air. Birds flapped vigorously above us, staring down at the gathered interlopers and screeching so loudly it was sure to wake the dead. They must have been disturbed by our movements amongst the trees. My heart sank and I wondered if the rowdy flock had drawn attention to our presence.
A shout sounded from the castle and a side door was flung open. Two Wraiths hurried from the threshold, heading straight into the small forest of trees. They ran at full attention, their heads swiveling from side to side as they scanned the trees. Wren’s men remained silent; none of us moved a muscle as they approached. I hunkered down behind a wide-trunked tree and watched from between the trunks in front of us.
I saw two of Wren’s men waiting to ambush the guards, probably about to slit their throats with consummate ease, so well not even a drop of blood touched the black soil. I didn’t give them the chance.
I aimed and fired, the bullet releasing from the chamber in a whisper of sound. The poison cartridge hit the second Wraith in the neck, the wound almost invisible to our eyes.
The Wraith fell in mid-run, hitting the soft ground on his knees so hard his head snapped backward with a crack. One of Widd’en’s men grabbed for the dead guard and eased his burden to the ground. The first guard was still hurrying through the trees, unaware his compatriot had fallen.
Within seconds of dispatching guard number two, guard number one received a bullet to the shoulder, giving a low grunt as his eyes widened. He didn’t have time to look down at his wound in shock. He crumpled to the ground, dead, amidst the men of Wren’s regiment who were all ready to kill him but hadn’t been given the chance.
Wren looked at me over his shoulder. He was hidden behind a clump of old trees and was staring at me with an odd expression on his taut-muscled Wraith face. His long white hair gleamed even in the dull morning light.
Then he turned back and waved for one of the men who were remaining behind. It looked like they were being given instructions to take the bodies as far back off the property as possible. Two missing guards would certainly confuse Widd’en’s men.
The one thing the guards had done for us was leave a door open to grant us ease of access. Wren, who appeared happy enough to take advantage of the open door, pointed at the entrance and gave the signal to move out. We followed the group in silence, reaching a low stone wall that ran round what looked like a small kitchen garden. Dried plants adorned the black soil, and it was clear Widd’en’s men had rooted out anything living long ago.
I called on my panther hearing and listened for sounds of movement, for hearts beating rapidly, for sharp intakes of breath that indicated the approach of the next wave of guards.
And I heard it. But I couldn’t yell out to Wren’s men to be careful. I aimed and prayed the bullet would hold true. A guard poked his head out of the dark doorway and, seeing nothing, strode into the yard, searching the trees behind us for his comrades.
Only when he’d gotten halfway between us and the door did I let loose my shot. The bullet hit him in the middle of his throat. I always aimed between jaw and heart, the best place to hit a demon and ensure the poisons worked fast.
In this poor guard’s case, death came in the breadth of an instant. I felt Wren’s gaze on me, but again he said nothing. Probably because I was making things easier for him. I glanced at Anjelo, who remained always by my side.
“Keep the gun only for the very last option. The sound alone will bring the whole castle down on us.”
Anjelo nodded and pointed at the short sword at his waist. Then he gave me a quick thumbs-up and turned to watch the door again. His panther ears were peaked too, so I knew he was listening as well.
No sound filtered through to my super hearing and I nodded. Anjelo ran forward and I followed, reaching the doorway at the same time as the last of Wren’s men. They regarded me with strange looks, as if unsure what to make of me. Then they allowed us to enter first, which I found odd considering Wren’s clear dislike of us. But then I saw the way they looked at Anjelo.
I hid a smile, admiring this boy who had been my sidekick and shadow, more now than ever before. Not that I gave a damn about Wraiths, but this was war, and these men were soldiers. And their respect for Anjelo meant he’d earned it, not by sitting on his hands.
Not by a long shot.
Up ahead, the soldiers swept through the passages in silence, the only sound accompanying us was the rapid trickle of water leaking through the gigantic stones used to build the formidable castle. We reached the end of another long passage, then turned. Here the regiment split in half—Wren and his group heading up the stairs to our right while we followed the other half to the cellars. Our way down was lit by the odd torch, placed well enough that we could see forward, but not too many to rid the way of all shadows. We made slow progress down two flights, as the stone stairs were wet and slippery with a strange black moss. I hugged the wall, keeping one hand on it at all times despite the moist, squishy feel of it.
At the bottom, we faced two tunnels, one straight ahead and leading to the northeast corner and the other at our right. One Wraith took up a guard post at the entrance to the tunnel while the rest of us hurried forward. I glanced at Cassandra, and she pointed up ahead, mouthing, “Last cell,” at me. The Wraith in front of me held out a hand in warning and fury rippled through me. He refused to allow us to follow them, pointing to us and then to the ground, ordering us to stay as if we were a pack of dogs. That got my hackles up.
Literally.
***
Chapter 23
Anjelo placed a hand on my arm, his face apologetic but also urging me with a shake of his head not to do anything drastic. I gritted my teeth and looked away from him, down the tunnel at the band of Wraiths slowly approaching the shadowed end.
I glanced at Cassandra. “Guards?” I asked in a whisper. She nodded and raised two fingers. Then I heard two soft choking sounds that confirmed they’d taken out the guards.
I snuck forward, ignoring the Wraith’s instructions, and hurried to within ten feet of the door to Mom’s cell. I didn’t dare call out to her in case it warned any of Widd’en’s men who might be in the vicinity. My heart thumped with excitement. I wanted to see her so badly that tears began to film my eyes and I had to blink them away. I steeled myself against my rising emotions. Plenty of time later to be joyful.
Ahead of me the passage ran in front of a row of cells on the left, then it made a sharp turn to the right and went off into the darkness. I glanced at Cassandra and pointed in the direction of the passage. She shook her head, which I took to mean she had no idea where they went or if they might potentially be hiding more of Widd’en’s men.
For now I paid attention to Mom’s cell as keys clinked in the keyhole and I heard the lock click open.
Just as the sound e
choed against the stony walls, I noticed a movement within the shadows to my right. Someone was lurking in the darkness, watching and waiting. I pulled my panther sight through and the darkness shrank away, revealing the outline of a waiting Wraith, one of Widd’en’s men.
I aimed my weapon, aware my sight was hampered by at least four Wraiths who moved around between me and my target. I controlled my breathing, easing my heartbeat into a slower, calmer rate. I saw the line straight through the crowd of Wraiths even before they moved.
And then I pulled the trigger.
The bullet flew through the air and with my panther sight, I watched it, watched the trail of air it raised in its wake, watched as it skimmed within a hairsbreadth of one Wraith’s neck, another’s cheek, and another’s temple.
The bullet slammed into the waiting guard with a soft thud. He grunted, then fell forward out of the shadows and flat onto his face among the feet of Wren’s men. They stared at the dead guard in shocked silence. Then they all turned to me simultaneously. I still had my bow aimed in their direction, but it didn’t seem to bother them to be staring down my weapon.
The senior soldier gave me a respectful nod, then motioned for the Wraith at the door to keep going. The cell door swung wide on creaky hinges, and we were all hit with the blast of the stench of the room. The odor of urine and feces overpowered the stench of rotting food and moldy straw. Two Wraiths entered warily, their swords stretched out in front of them. The silence from the room was ominous, and my heart thumped louder and harder. I had to force myself to take a breath despite the stink, calming myself more important than the possibility of puking my guts out.
Then I heard a gruff sound and the Wraiths reappeared from the room, disgust clear on their faces. Disgust and disappointment.
The Wraith who’d warned us to stay put marched straight to us. Then he glared at Cassandra. “I thought you said northeast cell?”
