“She's going to. She will...”
“You know what I did, Toast? You want to know what I actually was stupid enough to haul off and do? I said: 'Hey Ariel, I can't live like this. Let's get married. Let some other Elf go get killed.' And we had a horrible, awful argument. The only time I ever shouted at her. The only time I ever asked her...”
“The day's a-coming when it'll all be over, and you two...”
“Yea? And what if she dies? What then?”
“I don't know,” she said with a shake of her head. “I know it would tear you to pieces. But I do know this. I'll always be here to carry you into the sky, no matter what, for as long as the two of us live.”
***
Minuet and most who would have been at Castle Niarg (had it not been for Spitemorta and Demonica) lived in the New Dragon Caves in the caverns immediately north of the dragons, where they had spent the past twenty years. Razzmorten lived in the furthest north of these in a group of caves open to the sky by a great sink-hole which he called his underground tower. Over the years, he had undertaken nearly all of the magical tutoring of the twins for the prophetical day when they would face Spitemorta. Having shown them about as much as he could before turning them over to other mentors, he had just devised a final test for them, sending them out over the countryside with maps to identify and undo a series of spells and magical wards he had set for them. He sat dozing in the sun on a favorite rock in one of the grottos which opened to the sink, listening to the twittering of cave swallows and the endless trickle of water down the glistening mats of liverwort on the walls and the thundering of the underground river far below. From time to time he would stir and smile when one of the twins undid a spell, someplace well away from there. He was looking right at them the moment they appeared in the mouth of the lava tube to the grotto.
“We're done Grandfather,” said Daniel.
“So I see.” he said, fitting his spectacles onto his face.
“How did we do?” said Ariel as she and Daniel sat beside him.
“A question like that has been nothing but a respectful formality for some time, my dear,” he said.
“Perfect then?” said Daniel.
“Absolutely,” he said with a deep nod. “And this completes anything which I might contribute until Neron has worked with you for a time and we get you ready to go study with Meri Greenwood. And it is he who will prepare you for your staves and take you to see Longbark in Mount Bed.”
“And then?” said Ariel. “Are we...?”
“Oh,” he said with a smile. “I expect we'll have you back here again for one final inspection and a little practice.”
“And then we get her...” said Daniel.
“When the moment falls exactly right,” said Razzmorten as everyone went silent, listening to the swallows and the trickling water and the river pounding in the deep reaches, drawing away the echoes from the sink.
Daniel dug at the rocks with a twig.
“Abaddon ought to be back with Toast, directly,” said Razzmorten, looking at Ariel with sudden innocence.
“Great-Grandfather Razzmorten is naught but a matchmaker,” said Arial, giving him a peck on his cheek.
“Not at all. You've had your heart bond for all these years.”
“Are we done?” said Daniel.
“With magic, anyway. Go enjoy the day.”
“Thanks Grandfather,” he said, tossing aside his twig.
“Father keeps saying that in spite of the bond, I might eventually be safer away from Abby,” said Ariel.
“Yea? Is that what you want?”
“Maybe it's best for Abby. I mean I could die...”
“No you're not. And worse than that, you're guessing. How's that fit for a young and powerful sorceress? What do you want to do with your guesses, anyway, break his heart and then go die? Maybe you'd better do what your heart wants.”
“You're right as usual,” she said as she stood and brushed the seat of her skirt. “I shall indeed follow my heart.”
“And you're not going to say another word about dieing,” he called out after her as she stepped into the lava tube. “Ye hear?”
“Still at it, I see,” said Minuet as she sat down where Ariel had been.
“Now how long have you been a-standing there, listening?”
“Long enough.”
“Well fiddlesticks. And what the ding-dong blazes am I still at?”
“Making matches,” she said. “And you're good at it, too. You gave me the very love of my life, though I'm not so sure what Lukus thinks about Abaddon.”
“Hebraun and Henry were the ones after you,” said Razzmorten. “I just told you about it. And I had nothing to do with Ariel and Abaddon, my dear. They had that bond before we even got to Gerddi Teg. And Lukus? I see why he worries about his only daughter, but it's her heart, not his. And if you think I'm so blooming good at this, how about you and Sulacha?”
“Sulacha?” she said, suddenly wide eyed. “What on earth?”
“Aah, aah, aah! I've been watching, my dear.”
“Well I... Well, he does seem to be showing a certain interest in me, but...”
“And you've no interest in him?”
“Father! I love Hebraun, and...”
“And the years go by...”
“I've kept a promise to Hebraun these live-long years that I will see to the end.
And that means that I'll not ever consider another man until I've cut out Spitemorta's rotten heart.”
Razzmorten propped his elbows upon his knees and nodded. “The time may be a- coming, is all I'm saying,” he said with a sigh as he looked out across the sink.
“Very well Father. If you must, I have indeed noticed.”
Chapter 179
Neron, Olloo and Obbree sat on the floor of their cell with their backs against its stone walls as Sulacha paced slowly about in the straw, churning the dust in the shaft of midday light from the small window above. Through the iron grate in the heavy door came the echoes of distant murmurs from time to time and the continual moaning of anguished despair, somewhere quite nearby.
“You know,” said Obbree, “I don't want to sound heartless or anything, but I sure wish that poor fellow would shut up. I can't begin to think.”
“I swear,” said Sulacha, stopping in the light to stretch. “That hallway out there is the longest damned corridor I've ever walked down.”
“Yea,” said Olloo. “Cells the entire length of it. And it may be one reason you and Neron haven't found nearly enough of Bernard's men out around the barracks. Of course another reason would almost have to be that a fair number of them have been executed over the past twenty year.”
“You think they believe a word we're a-saying?” said Sulacha. “You reckon they even think you own a big herd of cattle on Ashmore?”
“Nay,” said Neron. “Pennoyer might not know what to think, but Spitemorta certainly does or we wouldn't be in here. She very likely intends to come down and cut on us herself until we tell her what she wants to hear, whether we're Elves or not.”
“So how are we getting out...?” said Sulacha, suddenly hushing wide eyed at the sound of boots tramping down the hall.
The boots stopped right outside as the orange light of torches wavered about on the ceiling. There was a jingle and rattle of keys and hasps as the heavy door came open on groaning hinges for an officer and a pair of guards. “So,” said the officer as he tried to make out faces in the dim light. “Which one of you is Arthur Shacknasty?”
“At your service,” said Neron, getting to his feet with a polite bob of his head as he held out his hand.
“General Coel at yours,” said the officer, surprising Neron by returning the nod with a handshake fit for polite introductions. “We need to have a talk, so if you'll come along with us.”
Neron willingly followed Coel into the long hallway, keenly aware of the two soldiers behind him. At the far end, he was shown into a room well lit by four large grated windows. I
n the middle of the room was a heavy table fitted with manacles for his arms and legs. At a nod from Coel, the soldiers seized him by the arms. Coel picked up a heavy meat cleaver and gave a deep and resolute sigh.
“You're wanting me to confess that my drovers and I are Elves?” said Neron.
“I don't see the point, Squire Shacknasty,” said Coel with a look of regret. “If you're an Elf, it wouldn't work. If you're not an Elf and said you were, that wouldn't work either. My orders are to take off your right hand as a message from Demonica. Her Omnipotence said you'd understand immediately.”
Neron went wide eyed with bewildered shock. “You certainly have my understanding, if you fellows know what I mean,” he said, “but I have no idea under the shining sun who this Mister Demonica might be.”
Coel took a deep breath. “No matter that you don't know what we're talking about,” he said. “Orders are orders with the witch. Time to be a soldier...”
And with that, Neron was no longer in the room and every bit of the straw on the floor was on fire. He immediately appeared in the orchard of Peach Knob.
“Cachu!” cried Peredur as he dropped his ladder and sat down hard in the grass.
“Where do you have our claymores?” said Neron as he helped Peredur to his feet.
“Now if that don't beat the bugs a-fighting! How in the ever-loving blue-eyed world did you manage to...? I was pruning trees. Where'd you come from?”
“Spitemorta's dungeon. And I'm sorry, but it's a life and death matter. Where do you have our weapons?”
“Now here I was a-pruning trees...” said Peredur as he strained to stoop for his ladder. “Oh!” He stood up wide eyed. “They're all leant together in the corner of the summer kitchen.”
Neron vanished.
“Now where the ding-dong blazes?” said Peredur as he tottered and sat down in the grass again.
Neron appeared right by Sulacha in their cell, giving everyone quite a start.
“Here!” he said, handing out the claymores. “I have no way of unlocking the door. We'll have to rush them when they open it. And they ought to be on their way any moment.”
“And I hear somebody coming right now!” said Obbree.
At once there was an urgent rattling of hasps. “Now!” cried Neron as they rushed the door the instant it was thrown wide. With echoing cries of horrified surprise, four castle solders fell slain in the corridor.
“Grab the keys!” cried Olloo as they made a furious sprint to the end of the hallway to scramble breathlessly up a flight of stone steps and out into the blinding sunshine in the middle of the empty inner ward. There was nothing for it but to sprint for the inner gate.
The pair of guards suddenly looked up in surprise at the scuffle of feet coming to a halt behind them in time for Sulacha and Olloo to neatly remove their heads with a furious whistling swing apiece with their claymores. And beyond was the outer gate. No one seemed to be in the outer ward. They ran with every chest burning fiber of fury they had.
They surprised four guards at the outer gate in a collision of ringing swords. For a moment it looked as though they might be in trouble, but when Neron took off the head of one guard, the others were quickly run through. They pounded across the drawbridge as shouts rang out from the embrasure above and a shower of crossbow bolts clattered across the cobblestones. They scattered hogs and chickens and dove through a hedge.
“Hey!” gasped Neron. “Wait!” And with that he cast soldier glamouries upon each of them as they looked at each other and nodded all 'round. “Let's get to the stable, then.”
***
Spitemorta had always been hard on the messengers who brought her bad news, but after an accidental discovery with the Heart, she had taken to scorching those who had unwittingly irritated her by skinweler. By now, it was quite rare indeed for officers to send her any sort of message by this means. Private Huna, yeoman to Colonel Yestin, commandant of Castlegoll, picked up Yestin's skinweler with trembling hands.
“Your Omnipotent Majesty...” said Spitemorta's skinweler from its depression in the arm of her throne.
“Damn you!” she shouted, swatting the ball off the throne to hit the carpet with a thud and go rolling down the runner and across the marble floor to strike a gargoyle column.
Huna gave a falsetto shriek and pitched backward out of his chair onto the floor.
“Damn you, damn you!” she growled as she heaved herself off the throne and plodded across the room to the pillar, grabbed up the skinweler and shouted: “What?”
Huna rolled onto his hands and knees with a whimper and scrambled up to the ball to press his forehead to the floorboards in front of it.
“What are you doing, groveling or what?” she said as she padded back to the throne with her skinweler to have a seat. “Whatever you're pointing at your ball has no eyes. And if I don't see eyes, you're dead.”
“Yes, Your Omnipotence!” he squeaked, thrusting his wide eyes at the skinweler.
“Well then? It's rude of you if I have to read your mind,” she said, even though she had never done such a thing in her life.
“The Beaks have been busy making hit and run raids all along the Fairy River from Gollsport to Fairy Valley Junction and up and down the Cyclops Road into Goll,” he said. “Hit started out slow enough, but they've slain neigh onto two hundred of our soldiers over the past six weeks, with more than a hundred this past week...”
“Beaks!” said Spitemorta. “What's Yestin's excuse?”
“Right now, he thinks that sending every soldier in Castlegoll down there won't be enough. We had our biggest losses when we sent more men. He's asking for as many soldiers as you can spare from Niarg. Hit's looking more like an invasion by the day. And hit's possible they intend to take Castlegoll.”
“I need to speak to Yestin,” she said. “Is he right there?”
Huna looked up from the skinweler to find Yestin giving a side to side shake of his head before vanishing out the door. “He's... he's on his way down to Fairy Valley Junction.”
“Right. So he can lose another hundred and not know where all the little blue men came from. Listen Worry-face, saddle the fastest unicorn you can get your trembling hands on and tell him that I'm speaking with General Coel. Coel may be able to spare him as many as five hundred troops. What ever we send him, he's to round up every single one of the little blue curses and burn them in wicker men, right in front of King Talorg.
After that, he's to take off Talorg's head with a saw. And tell him that if he wants to keep breathing, he'll not only see to that, but he'll be the one to address me next time instead of one of his stupid men. Now beat it!”
“Seeing to the morale of the troops then, are we?” said Demonica, stooping to feel of the cold teapot.
“Yes, not to put too fine a point on it, Grandmother. And if you think I'm too rough about it, you forget that I conquered the entire world in spite of the pointless things you kept telling me.”
Demonica passed the milk under her nose, put some in a cup and turned the pot hot before pouring herself the last of it. “So you expect Yestin will rout out the Beaks when Coel never managed?” she said, wrinkling her nose at what she tasted.
“Sure. I expect he wants to stay alive.”
“How long has this been sitting?”
“Since yesterday. And I’m done with the bungling of these Gwaels, Grandmother.
If they can’t manage, I’ll replace them with Azenor's army.”
“I see,” said Demonica, setting down her cup. “Now I suppose you could do that, dear, but do you really want to leave the Dark Continent open to attack?”
“From the Beaks? Oh go on! They wouldn't know what a ship was.”
“No more than they know what they're doing down where no one can find them.
I'd put nothing past them, dear, particularly when Talorg will stop at nothing to get you for his dead children. And you do remember their dungeon and the poison they used on their darts, don't you?”
“How was I supposed to know whose kids they were?”
“You mean you'd have spared them had you known?”
“Well no,” said Spitemorta, tapping on a tooth. “They got what they deserved.
They shouldn’t have been in Bratin Brute in the first place. And just what were they doing there, anyway? What possible reason could the Kingdom of Marr have for their royal heirs being with that doddering old king?”
“Good question. And you'll never learn the answer with Talorg's head in a basket.
But it'll never end up there anyway, to hear you go on about your Gwaels, and you still won't get your answer. And you don't have a clue about the solution either, do you?”
“What are you going on about, Grandmother? Which one of my shortcomings am I burdening you with now?”
“Have you thought about your trolls, dear? In fact, how many years has it been since you visited Veyfnaryr?”
“What does this have to do with anything?”
“Trolls do have their skills, is all I'm saying. And don't you reckon they'd hunt down every last Beak if they thought that doing so would give them Elves to feast on again?”
Chapter 180
Minuet was not the only member of Niarg's royal household who was influenced by Sulacha. Herio became a fast friend of his at the very beginning of everyone's time together at the New Dragon Caves. In fact, Herio was with him when he tramped the southern Machlud Mountains, hunting for a place to keep Niarg's five hundred cavalry unicorns safe from Spitemorta, and had discovered what came to be called the Pastures, above the tree line on the western side of the divide. Sulacha spent a good part of the next twenty years exploring, and Herio was with him most of the time, so that by now he had become nearly as accomplished a woodsman and tracker as the renowned Elf himself.
The dragons were able to provide for themselves quite well on the game from the scattered oases of the cave system before the arrival of any of the refuges. And though they happily welcomed every last one of them, being descended upon by five hundred Niarg cavalry and their unicorns and the eight hundred additional Niarg volunteers rescued from Castlegoll, as well as the seven hundred Gollian civilians and fifteen hundred Elves, created an emergency that was not to end until the Pastures up in the Machluds were being used for gardening and sheep as well as for the grazing of the cavalry unicorns. So even though the Pastures had been picked out to be a cavalry camp hidden from above by the magical wards of Elves, it turned out to be a food raising settlement for all of the groups involved from the very start. Flying back and forth from the mountains to the caves quickly became a full-time job for the dragonets and for the fire heads who were soon to arrive from the Mammvro of the Dark Continent to become an airborne cavalry unit under Captain Bernard.
Heart of the Staff - Complete Series Page 188