“You said that people started slowing down out there pretty quickly. That’s when the rats came. We’ll tie a rope around me and if I start slowing down, you guys pull me back quickly.”
“Have to be an awfully long rope,” Friedrich muttered.
“Agreed,” Solomon said. “Know where we can find one?”
Friedrich shook his head, so Solomon turned in his seat.
“How about you guys?”
The kids grinned and nodded. “Might have to tie a few together,” Christoph said.
“Good enough.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Again, the kids were good to their word and a short time later they had several lengths of rope coiled in Greta and Friedrich’s house.
“Where’d you say you got it?” the older man asked, running a length of it through his hands.
“Probably better not to say,” Christoph replied.
Friedrich nodded. “Yep. I understand. When this is done, we’re going to return it where we got it, right?”
Christoph said nothing, until Friedrich looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Then the boy nodded. “Sure. We can do that.”
“Good man,” Friedrich said, and Solomon was glad to see the pride that quickly crossed the boy’s face.
“What’s the plan?” Celia asked.
“Simple, like I said,” Solomon answered. “We go to the gate and tie the rope around my waist, good and snug so it won’t slip off. Then, I take off running as fast as I can. If I start faltering, or if I yell, you pull me back, as fast as possible. Hopefully, it will be too quick for the rats. If not…well, I’ve survived a bite before. Two of them, as a matter of fact.”
“Maybe you were lucky, then,” Christoph said.
“I was. But this time, I know where to go. If I do get bitten and you can pull me back, then take me to Doc Mia. She knows what to do.”
“Let’s assume you make it,” Celia said. “What then?”
“When I reach the end of the rope, I get rid of it and keep going. I get to the Mar-trollid camp, then…well, then we’ll have to see.”
“And how do you get back here?”
“That part should be easy. There’s no problem with coming here, just leaving. At least there wasn’t last time.”
“Last time you got bit,” Friedrich reminded him.
“True, but last time I stopped to see what was going on. This time, I’ll be moving as fast as I can.”
“You know,” Celia put in, “we don’t even know that’s where the hunters were headed. They could have been going anywhere.”
Solomon nodded. “Very true. And I hope we’re wrong. They’ve got a long head start and they’re probably there already, if that’s where they were going and if the Mar-trollid were still camped in the same spot. And if the hunters were going elsewhere, it’d be good to know that, too.”
“And if you can’t find them?”
“I come back here anyway. I’m not leaving for good. Only long enough to make sure the Mar-trollid are safe, help them if they need it, and find out what I can about the hunters.”
“Don’t travel at dusk or dawn,” Greta said. “Hide during those times. No one can fight that many hunters at once. If you meet them coming back, they’ll take you.”
“Promise. I’m not going to fight unless I have to. Anything else?”
Solomon waited, and even though no one appeared thrilled with his plan, no one objected anymore either.
“All right then.”
“Wait,” Celia said, “before we go, I’d like to talk to you.”
She held out her hand and led him into the small bedroom that she was using, the one that belonged to Lyssa.
Once the door was closed, she turned to him, studying his face, but saying nothing.
In the quiet of the room, Solomon could hear his own heart beating. He wanted to embrace her, hold her tight and let her feel how much he loved her. But for one of the very few times in his life, he wasn’t sure of what to do.
Finally, Celia sighed and sat on the edge of her bed. Solomon sat next to her.
“I don’t hate you,” she began, her voice low. “But I can’t look at you without seeing the man responsible for my father’s death.”
Solomon said nothing. He understood. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t blame himself for letting his feelings for Celia dictate his actions. If he hadn’t, she wouldn’t have been taken by the spirit, Solomon wouldn’t have been exiled and maybe he could have stopped the Soul Gaunts.
“And that’s not fair,” Celia continued. “It’s an unreal expectation that anyone, even you, could have stopped what happened.”
He was grateful for her words but could see that there was more to come.
“The thing is,” she continued, “is that I don’t know where to go from here. Knowing that my feelings are unfair to you doesn’t mean that I don’t have them. I love you. I probably always will. But I don’t know that I can be with you.”
His heart sank. After all this time, thinking she was dead, then finding out that she wasn’t. He had put off coming after her to do what he considered to be his duty to his people and his land, and even, yes, to her father. Now, to find her and lose her again so quickly.
“I understand.” He said it out loud this time.
“Do you? Really?”
He shrugged. “Sure. I guess. I can see why you would think that, and I certainly can’t blame you.”
They sat silently next to each other, their shoulders touching, yet oceans of space between them. There was an ache in his chest, one that hadn’t been there until a moment ago. He didn’t want it to be there, but it was nevertheless.
“Anyway,” Celia said. “I wanted to tell you that in case…”
“I know. I appreciate it, even if I don’t like it.”
She stood and held out her hand for him again. He took it and allowed her to pull him to his feet. She hugged him briefly, brushed her lips over his cheek, and then left the room.
Solomon sighed, stood staring down at the floor for a moment longer, and then followed.
Chapter 52
Whatever the thing was, it moved slowly toward him, making a low whistling noise. Thaddeus twisted in his chains, not wanting it to touch him. When it came within range he kicked out, his right foot connecting with the thing’s chest. It felt like he kicked a stump.
The figure moved back a couple of steps but showed no signs of being hurt. It moved forward again. Again, Thaddeus kicked out, knocking it back, and again it immediately came toward him, that soft whistle hardly even wavering.
He struggled, his legs quickly tiring until he couldn’t lift them anymore and the figure in bright yellow stood in front of him, studying him from a blank, white mask.
“What do you want?” His voice wavered.
The thing never answered. Instead, it raised its hands to chest level and used its left to tug the glove from its right. The hand underneath was so pale it was almost colorless, with long slender fingers. There were no fingernails, only smooth skin where they should be.
It raised its ungloved hand toward Thaddeus’s face.
“Please, no. Don’t.” He twisted his head back, pulling it between his arms so that the thing would have a harder time reaching him.
It simply stretched further, until those weird fingers could reach Thaddeus’s cheek. It kept its fingers together, then opened them slowly, leaving what felt like traces of cold water on his skin. Then, the water moved.
Thaddeus could feel something wriggling on his cheek. Several somethings, like small squirming worms along, some moving toward his mouth, others toward his nose. The worst were the two that seemed to be moving up, toward his eye.
He screamed, and the thing in front of him sounded a series of short, sharp bursts of whistle, like it was laughing. Finally, it took its hand from Thaddeus’s cheek and stepped back.
“Get them off! Get them off!” His screams were shrill, ringing in the stone chamber. The worms, if that�
��s what they were, kept moving. He could feel one on the corner of his mouth now and he clamped his lips shut, hoping to keep it out.
The worm slipped in regardless and Thaddeus spit, then gagged.
Whatever it was, worm or other, it left a bitter taste and a numbing sensation in his mouth, but at least it was gone.
The others were not.
Suddenly, one bit him. Or stung him. Or released acid, or something. Whatever it was, it was a tiny spot of brilliant pain. Then another, and another, until it felt like the whole side of his face was being pierced by needles.
He screamed again, although the pain was starting to diminish. Instead, his face was growing numb.
The thing in front of him continued to watch, the whistling laugh returning several times.
Then, it stiffened. The whistle was cut off and all movement ceased.
The door to his cell opened and a different figure rushed in.
It was Melanie. She was bloody and staggered as she ran. Her clothes were torn and disheveled, worse than his own and he hated to think for a moment what that might mean. But she was alive!
“How?” he muttered through numbed lips.
“Doesn’t matter,” she replied.
She spotted the things glove on the ground and used it to wipe the worms from his face. He got a glimpse of them, wiggling on the yellow fabric and shuddered.
They were long and white, like stretched out maggots and he gagged again at the thought of one of them getting into his mouth.
“Here.” Melanie stood back and closed her eyes.
The wards that Malachi had put in place between Thaddeus and his magic disappeared. He felt them crumble because he had been beating against them this whole time without even realizing it.
He felt the light that he could manipulate, and even more so, the fire. He looked at the ring holding his chains to the ceiling and it started to glow. He pulled hard and his chains ripped through the hot metal. It dripped down, but he simply stepped to the side, avoiding it.
The chains were still attached to his wrists, but he could deal with that later.
“How are you here?” He still doubted his own sight.
“Malachi isn’t as strong as he thinks he is. Plus, he’s a sadistic asshole. He wanted me awake for what they were doing to me.”
Thaddeus opened his mouth, but she stopped him.
“Don’t ask. It doesn’t matter anyway. It was mostly Malachi, and right now, he’s out cold. Thanks to him.”
She pointed and another figure, this time in the black robes of a member of House Subtle Hemlock came into the cell. It moved with uncertain, jerky motions.
“Key,” Melanie said, and the figure reached into a pocket and pulled it out. Melanie grabbed it and used it to undo Thaddeus’s chains from his wrists.
“I still don’t understand,” Thaddeus said, shaking his hands free.
His face still hurt, except for the parts that were growing number.
“And what the hell is that thing?” He gestured toward the white masked figure, still motionless.
“That I don’t know,” she said. “But I have a feeling it’s part of whatever Malachi’s big plan is.”
Thaddeus stared at it. “What’s under that mask?”
He said it out loud, but really, he was talking to himself. He reached toward it, but Melanie stopped him.
“I wouldn’t. I froze it, but I don’t have its mind. I’m not even sure it really has one. When I tried, it was like trying to grab a handful of water. It slipped away.”
“Then how are you doing this?”
“I’m not a one-trick pony, either,” she said. “Mind magic may be my strong suit but that doesn’t mean it’s all I can do. But I am stretched pretty thin here, between holding this thing motionless and controlling this sack of garbage.”
She indicated the man in the robe standing silently nearby.
“Who is he?” Thaddeus asked.
“I don’t know his name. Some flunky of Malachi’s that thought what was happening was exciting and wanted in on it. Malachi let him… do stuff.”
“I’m sorry,” Thaddeus said.
“You say that a lot,” she replied. “You’re responsible for a lot of stuff, but not that. That’s all on him.”
She turned and stared hard at the still figure. Slowly, his hands came up and pushed his hood back, revealing a pinched face, with a salt-and-pepper beard. The eyes were dark, and there was awareness in them. He had no choice but to stare back at Melanie, and in those eyes was fear.
“He’s afraid,” Thaddeus said.
“He’s got reason to be,” Melanie answered.
She continued to stare at the man, who began to shake. His jaw worked soundlessly and then blood began to run from his nose, then his ears, then finally his eyes. His body shook violently and then he dropped like he had been held up by a rope that was suddenly cut.
Melanie took her eyes off him and turned to Thaddeus. On the floor behind her, the man gasped, moaned, and then shuddered once more before lying still.
“Did you…?” Thaddeus asked.
“Yes, and we need to get going. Malachi is only unconscious, and he’s got wards against me taking control of him again. On the other hand, I’ve got the same against him now, but he still owns the House.”
“Why didn’t you kill him?”
“We don’t know his plan yet. If we do kill him, we’ll have no way of finding out what it is until it happens. And if it doesn’t, we’ll always be on guard against it anyway. No, we’ll leave him alive until we can figure out a way to stop him. Then, we’ll kill him.”
When did she get left in charge? Thaddeus wondered, then answered himself almost as quickly. When she learned she was as strong as the Head of our House.
Still, he needed to do something to show her that he wasn’t a liability, someone that was simply there to be rescued.
He turned to the motionless figure in yellow. He reached out and touched the things gloved hand, feeling stiff fingers inside of it. He held on to it and chanted under his breath.
From under his hand, flame sprang out and crawled up the things arm. Thaddeus moved back, chanting louder and soon the whole figure was engulfed in fire. He yelled one final word and with a whoosh, the flames grew stronger, causing Melanie to step back.
“There. No one will be able to put that out until the cursed thing is gone for good.”
“Very impressive.” Melanie’s voice was dry. “Can we go now? Before Malachi wakes up and rouses the whole House?”
“After you, my love,” Thaddeus said, and began limping toward the door. His maimed foot was killing him now, to say nothing of his other injuries. And despite her urgency, Melanie wasn’t in much better shape.
Supporting each other, they left the cell and made for the upper levels.
“Where to?” Melanie asked.
“I don’t know…” Thaddeus started to say, but then stopped. “Yeah, actually I do. As much as I don’t want to, I don’t think we have a choice.”
“All right, spit it out.”
“We have to go home. My home, I mean. Back to Whispering Pines.”
Chapter 53
With every step of her horse’s hooves closer to House Glittering Birch, Shireen’s mood grew darker. Even the sunlight coming through the leaves of the giant trees didn’t do anything to lighten it.
She wasn’t sure if whatever was wrong with her was the cause, or if it was simply the fact that she was going back. The thought of being anywhere around Jamshir sickened her and that turned into the very real desire to do him harm.
And why not? What had the madman done to deserve anything else? He had brought those evil, horrible creatures here to this sacred land, defiling it. He had been the cause of the death of her Head of House and so many others, and all the while, he had stayed back, safe from the battle, with a smirk on his face.
Her hand found her sword hilt as she fantasized about pulling it and carving that smile wider with it.
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With an effort of will, she pulled her hand away from her sword and back to the reins. It wouldn’t do to lose control of herself. However tempting it was to kill the man, that wouldn’t help find out what was going on and how to stop it. How to return everyone, herself included, back to normal.
But it was hard…
The first Glittering Birch soldier who tried to stop her got a boot to his face. Shireen didn’t even slow down at the man’s challenge or look back to see what affect her blow had on him. The soldier with that one laughed and stepped back, waving her on as if he had any say at all in the matter.
She dismounted in front of the steps to the main tree and didn’t bother tying her horse. Let him wander off. It’d be better than having to stay there.
Inside, the place was no better than it was the last time she was there. Worse, if that was possible. Servants no longer even pretended to work, they simply lolled about the place as if they were the ones who owned it. Guards were nonexistent.
“Unacceptable,” she muttered, thinking to herself the hell that would come due at Towering Oaks for lack of discipline like this.
“Jamshir!”
She supposed she could find him back in his great room, or throne room, or whatever the deluded little man chose to view it as. She simply didn’t feel like going to him, though. Let him come to her, before she decided to drag him out of there.
There was no response, so she yelled again, louder this time.
A soldier stuck his head out of a room and glared at her, then quickly withdrew when she returned it. For a moment, she felt a horrible desire to follow him, but she shut it down. That’s not what she was here for.
One more yell, then she’d go find him herself.
But as she drew breath, General Bragnold appeared at the top of the stairs. The man’s armor was in disarray and dirty. It was the first time, despite him being almost mindless, that Shireen saw him like that. The sight of it penetrated the dark fog that was enshrouding her.
What was going on? Really going on? It was something horrible, worse than Soul Gaunts, if it could take someone like him and turn him into… that.
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