She smiled innocently up at him, putting that thought out of his mind.
“So anyway, you were, uh . . . about to . . .”
“Oh yeah, right.” He leaned in for that kiss, hopeful Wizard White Beard wasn’t watching . . .
Lucky for Mongrel, the wizard’s attention was drawn elsewhere, about half a mile away to where Laerilas and the others came to a sudden stop. The spell, it seemed, had been broken. They let out a cheer, only to discover they still couldn't move.
“At leest we’re nae walkin’,” said Littlehammer. “I don’t knoo hoo much longer mah wee legs cood hae handled ’at.”
“But we still can’t move,” Ajani pointed out. She glanced at Laerilas. “Now what?”
“We stand,” he said, not really sure what everyone was so confused about. Now that his body was still, he considered the possibility of breaking the spell. Maybe if he focused—
“We need to do something,” Ajani suggested. “Tikaani, summon your wolves.”
“I can’t without the amulet,” she cried. “And my arms are pinned to my sides.”
“That’s just great,” Ajani snapped. “And here we are lined up like targets. We might as well have bull’s-eyes painted between our eyes.”
Tikaani started to cry.
Laerilas closed his eyes and tried to tune them out.
“Daen’t talk like ’at,” Littlehammer’s voice boomed inside his head. “Mongrel will notice we’re missin’. He’ll come fin’ us afair somethin’ bad happens.”
“Yeah, Mongrel will save us!” Tikaani chimed in.
“Don’t be stupid,” Ajani told them. “Mongrel’s too busy—”
“Quiet please!”
Their mouths hung open at the elf’s sudden outburst. At last they were quiet.
“Thank you,” he said and resumed his efforts to break the spell.
Not two seconds later, Littlehammer opened her mouth, instigating a whole new argument, which ended when they detected the thud of distant hoofbeats. A lot of good her silence did Laerilas now. His feet picked up the vibrations, and by his guess, an animal, larger than a deer but smaller than a moose, and heavily burdened, was heading their way.
“What is it?” Tikaani whimpered. He could smell her sweat, ripe with fear.
“I don’t know,” Ajani answered, her voice strangled.
She, too, was sweating. Laerilas scrunched his nose. This was one of those moments he wished his senses were not so strong.
Ajani gulped. “But it’s coming our way.”
“Oh no!” Tikaani bawled.
Laerilas closed his eyes and made one last attempt to break the spell, a difficult task considering he didn’t know a thing about magic outside of plants and animals, not to mention his abilities were rudimentary to say the least. The noise from his companions didn’t help, but above all the greatest distraction to him was his own fear blaring inside his head like a thunderstorm, snuffing out any logical thought. He hoped Mongrel would notice they were missing, but somehow he doubted he would. As far as he was concerned, they were doomed.
“Wait a second.” Mongrel pulled back, remembering. “You said I was close to finding the hidden item.”
He heard a sigh, but Margo’s lips were pressed together.
Once again, he considered the possibility that Margo was not alone. He stepped back just in case it was Wizard White Beard.
Margo frowned. “Now you’re not.”
“I don’t understand,” he said. “You told me I was close.”
“And now you’re not,” she said. “Think about it.”
Mongrel rubbed the back of his neck. Margo waited patiently while he thought. He shrugged. “Can you offer me another hint?”
“Well . . .” She fiddled with the ends of her hair.
Mongrel felt the heat rise in the back of his neck. Casually, he rubbed it away.
She smiled. “It’s nowhere near where you’re standing now.”
The hoofbeats grew louder, pounding in Laerilas’ ears like a heartbeat—or was that his own heartbeat? He couldn’t tell them apart as they fell into rhythm.
Out of the shadows appeared Walder riding atop his great beast of burden. Only now it was spotted when before it had been brown, or so Laerilas remembered. But what did it matter? Brown or spotted, the horse was bringing Walder their way, no doubt with ill intent.
About a yard away, Walder drew rein and dismounted. His hand lay lightly on the pommel of his sword as he approached them. He stopped only a few feet away and unsheathed it; the blade closed in the rest of the distance.
“What’s this, eh?” His gaze passed over them. “A savage from the south, a brat from the north, and a woodland ninny.”
Littlehammer cleared her throat.
“Oh, and a little beast from the mountains.” He smirked. Her anger only further encouraged him. “So”—he scanned over the group once more—“we’re all friends now, eh?”
When no one responded, he chuckled. “Tight-lipped, are we? That’s all right. I’m not much for talking myself,” he said, swinging his sword. “I’m a man of action.”
Laerilas gulped as Walder fixed his eyes on Littlehammer and pointed the tip of his sword to her throat. When she didn’t so much as blink, he pulled away, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Is this a trick?” he asked no one in particular. “Just so you know, I won’t be made the fool.” He narrowed his eyes at Ajani. “So if you’re trying to hoodwink me, you’d better fess up now.”
“We can’t help it!” Tikaani blurted out. “We’re under an enchantment. We can’t move. Honest. Please don’t kill us!”
There was a collective sigh from the others when Walder nodded his head in understanding.
“So you can’t move, eh? Not a muscle?” He grinned. “It’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel. Hardly good sport, but I’m not much of a sports fan myself. I don’t like games. I like to get the job done. So tell me”—he lifted his sword—“who wants to go first?”
“Cold,” Margo said, and Mongrel heaved a sigh as once again his search led him farther from the hidden item. He moved back over to the tree where she told him he was getting warm.
“Warm?” he asked her. “Not hot. Just warm?”
She nodded.
He was beginning to think she was only playing him for a fool. Jared the Gatekeeper had warned him that women would do such things, play tricks on a man for sport. If that was her game, she was winning.
“I give up,” he told her, and she frowned.
“So soon?”
At this point, he couldn’t tell if she was teasing.
“Is this a game?” he asked her, trying to look her in the eye, but her hair had fallen in the way.
“It’s not,” she said. “The ring is nearby, as I’ve said. It’s not been moved.”
He thought he caught a smile. “It’s invisible then.”
“No, it’s not invisible,” she said, looking down to fuss with her robe.
“Then it’s imaginary.”
“It’s real. Trust me.”
She lifted her head to meet his gaze. Between dark strands, her violet eyes caught the light of the moon, an effect both stunning and eerie at the same time—mostly stunning. He had to look away.
“Don’t you trust me?”
He thought about it. “I do.”
She smiled. “Then listen. I’m going to give you one more hint.”
“All right.”
“The ring is—”
Yaaaaarrrrrrgh!
Both Mongrel and Margo looked in the direction of the noise.
Margo frowned. “What was that?”
“I don’t know,” he said, peering into the darkness. “But I’m sure my friends are involved. Excuse me.” He turned to leave.
“Wait!” Margo’s voice pulled him back. “What about the ring? You can’t win the competition without it.”
He gave this due consideration but shook his head. “Without my friends, there’s no point in win
ning,” he told her before heading off in the direction of the noise. Less than a mile away, he was affronted with a scene like out of a circus. His friends were side by side, shouting and cheering as Walder flew through the air like a trapeze artist from one tree branch to another. Mongrel looked to Laerilas for explanation.
“Having fun, are you?”
The elf was straining with the effort but visibly enjoying himself.
“I couldn’t break the enchantment,” he said, “but it turns out my powers are stronger than I thought.”
“That’s great,” said Mongrel, forcing a smile. “Now put him down.”
Laerilas closed his eyes and released a sigh. The trees became still, and Walder dropped to the ground with a heavy thud.
Groaning, Walder pushed himself onto one knee. Mongrel rushed over to offer him his hand, but he slapped it away.
“Get away from me, you idiot,” he spat and rose unsteadily to his feet. He glared at Laerilas. “Stupid ninny. I’ll show you.” He searched for his sword, which he’d dropped sometime during his trapeze act.
Spotting it before he did, Mongrel kicked it away out of his reach.
Walder cursed under his breath and turned his fury on Mongrel.
“What are you doing siding with their kind, huh lad?”
“What are you doing assaulting my friends?”
“Me, assaulting them? Did you miss the part where the ninny had me swinging in the trees like some ape-man?”
“I know he wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t threatened him.” He glanced at Laerilas, who was grinning sheepishly. “Isn’t that right, Laeri?”
Walder snorted. “Don’t take his word for it. Not a one of them can be trusted.”
“I trust them.”
“Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought.” Walder retrieved his sword and started toward Mongrel’s friends . . . who were just standing there for some reason.
“Leave them alone, Walder,” Mongrel demanded, but the man ignored him. “I’m telling you, knock it off.”
“On what authority?”
Mongrel opened and closed his mouth, unable to come up with a reply. Then he remembered the milk carton. “I command you as your King.”
Walder stopped. His shoulders shook with laughter. He turned to face Mongrel with tears in his eyes. “Oh, that’s a good one, lad. But I’m not buying it.”
“See for yourself.” He pulled out the milk carton and held it out for Walder to see.
Frowning, Walder took it from him. His face went blank, and the laughter died in his throat. Slowly, he looked up at Mongrel. “Is this some kind of a joke?”
“It’s not a joke, I assure you.”
“Oh, really?” Walder gestured behind him. “Because I was certain they weren’t joking before when said they were defenseless. And next thing I know, the trees had me.”
Mongrel glanced at his friends lined up as stiff as frozen meat. “All right, guys, knock it off. The joke’s gone on long enough.”
“It’s nae a joke.” Littlehammer stepped forward. “We really cannae move. Honest.”
Mongrel raised an eyebrow.
Her face turned red. “Weel, we cooldnae move a minute ago. The speel seems tae hae bin broken.”
“Rather convenient,” Walder muttered.
“I’m sure it’s a simple misunderstanding.” Mongrel stepped in between them. “Let’s just forget about it and move on, all right?”
“Easy for you to say,” Walder snarled. “You weren’t the one being hurled around in the trees.”
Littlehammer lunged forward. “Ye watch yer tain, auld man. Yoo’re addressin’ a kin’.”
“King.” Walder spat. “He’s no king of mine.”
“He is your king,” said Ajani. “And you’re showing him great disrespect.”
“It’s true,” Mongrel agreed. “This is one of the milk cartons you had made. That’s my face. There isn’t better proof.”
“A birthmark or a family heirloom would be more persuasive.”
“True, but all we have is this milk carton.”
“I see.” Walder considered it again and at last conceded. “After all these long years, the heir has been found.” He frowned. “Can’t say I’m not disappointed.”
“Uncle.” Mongrel opened his arms to him.
Walder stepped back. “None of that, lad. You keep your arms to yourself. And wipe them unmanly tears from your eyes. You’re a king, dammit! You’d be wise to remember.”
“But that’s the thing: I don’t remember anything.” Mongrel wiped the tears from his eyes. It was no use; more were coming. He blinked them away. “Oh, Uncle, there’s so much you can tell me about my parents, where I come from, what—”
Walder raised his hand, silencing him. “The only thing you need to know is how to be a king. That, I’ll teach you once the competition is won.”
“So you’ll be joining our group?”
“Who said anything about me joining your group?”
“It only makes sense, considering I’m your king,” said Mongrel with a shrug. “Besides, we need you—strength in numbers.”
Walder scratched his chin while measuring up Mongrel’s group with his one good eye. After taking inventory of the weapons, he nodded his head. “You’re right. There is strength in numbers. Against this group, the other competitors won’t stand a chance.”
“Whoa! That’s not what I meant,” said Mongrel before the idea could solidify in his uncle’s head. “This group doesn’t want to fight anymore. If we’re going to win, we’ll do so peaceably.”
“Doesn’t want to fight?” Walder gestured at the sword hanging off Mongrel’s hip. “Then what’s that for? Buttering toast? No, lad. That sword is for killing.”
“It’s purely ceremonial,” said Mongrel, resting his hand on the pommel. “I have no intention of using it.”
“I’ll bet you don’t even know how to use it.” Walder snorted. “Take it out, lad. I’ll show you.”
Mongrel shook his head. “I know what a sword is for, thanks to Jared the Gatekeeper.”
“Jared the what, now?”
“Never mind. What you need to understand is I’m not going to use it—or any of my weapons—to win this competition. We’re going to win without killing anyone . . . else.”
Walder groaned. “You can’t win a fight without killing. Come on, lad, just give it a swing.”
“No, Uncle.”
“Just show me you know how.”
“He said no!” Both men fell silent as Ajani came to stand behind Mongrel. Her expression was as fierce as her tone of voice.
Walder glared at her. “Stay out of this, heathen!”
“Heathen!” Ajani’s nostrils flared. She gripped her spear.
“It’s okay. I’ve got this.” Mongrel placed his hand on her shoulder before confronting his uncle. “Listen here. This group doesn’t want to fight anymore. So if you want to join, you’re going to do things our way!”
“Yeah!” Tikaani rushed to his side, followed by Laerilas and Littlehammer. They were then joined by Eiko’s daughters and Grrargh, as well as Tikaani’s wolves. Backed by his group, Mongrel felt more powerful than he ever had.
“Fine. Have it your way, Your Majesty.” Walder made a curt bow. “But just so you know, I’m only coming along to make sure you don’t get stabbed in the back. Even a foolish king is better than no king.”
“Deal.” Mongrel offered him his hand, and while he and Walder shook on it, the others groaned. Mongrel faced them, his patience nearly drained. “Come on, don’t be like that. Walder’s a good man deep down, I’m sure. He just needs some positive influence. You’ll see.”
“Reit.” Littlehammer snorted.
“That’s the spirit!” he said, and before anyone else could protest, he led his group onward in search of the ring.
While he and the others checked under bushes and inside tree nooks for the ring, Walder checked the ground for footprints. Mongrel was sure his uncle was looking f
or a fight. And when one could not be found, he took out his aggression on the smallest but feistiest of Mongrel’s companions, who easily caved. Mongrel stepped in just as the weapons came out.
“That’s enough, you guys. Honestly, how do you expect to win this competition peaceably if you can’t even keep the peace among yourselves?”
“Weel . . .” Littlehammer scratched the top of her head. She looked pathetically at Laerilas, who shrugged.
Tikaani blew an innocent whistle. The sound lured a pair of birds from the trees.
Grrargh watched the birds. Eiko’s daughters exchanged glances. And Ajani stormed off.
Walder watched her go, smiling smugly.
Mongrel sighed. His group reminded him of the card castles Jared the Gatekeeper used to build. Such unsteady structures. It was no wonder they always collapsed, considering they relied on nothing more than balance to stay upright. Perhaps if he’d used adhesives or some other bonding method, they would have stood. Or maybe the use of more cards placed at the foundation would have produced a stronger structure. But what did Mongrel know? Considering the shape of his group, not much. And forget strength in numbers. It was going to take a lot more than man power to strengthen this group. But what, Mongrel had no idea.
Margo paced up and down the worn path. Around her, leaves fell to the ground without a sound. Animals scurried up tree trunks and took refuge in the heavy foliage. To the best of her knowledge, she was alone—not alone; she had her flower pin.
“What am I going to do?” she asked it.
“What do you mean? It’s easy. Just hand it to him.”
“I can’t just give it to him. That would be showing favoritism.”
“I thought Mongrel was your favorite.” The pin blinked.
“He is—no, he’s not. It doesn’t matter. The competition will be jeopardized if the others find out Wizard White Beard and I have been manipulating events in Mongrel’s favor.”
“So, why don’t you just hide the ring?”
Margo stopped in her tracks. That was an idea. She scanned the forest for the perfect hiding place, one Mongrel would think to search, like a bush or a tree. Seemed like a good idea, considering he’d searched the same darn tree over and over no matter how many times she told him he was getting cold.
The Wizard's Gambit Page 23
