The strange blue light was shining inside as well, so I could see clearly. Nathaniel looked from side to side as he walked, but there was no visible sign of how he felt, just the steady click of his claws on stone and the crunch of the dead leaves scattered across the floor as he walked over them. Feste was wandering around the room, looking at everything. He turned to Nathaniel every so often, to see how he was doing. A few steps inside, Nathaniel paused and looked back, past Feste — looking for me, I realized. I went in.
We were in a square stone room, with arrow slits in the walls and another large door, also open, on the right. It was a kind of entry hall, one that could be defended if need be. Nathaniel waited until I was beside him before he started toward the second door.
It led to a long hall hung with tapestries. I fell back and looked around. There were several wooden doors on both sides of the hall and a wide black marble staircase curving up at the end. A large coat of arms hanging on the wall just across from the door was the first thing the visitor saw, a blue shield with a silver bear and a bell above. I could imagine Grigsby standing there, waiting to direct people where they were supposed to be and firmly removing anyone who didn’t belong at all. Then I remembered this was where he belonged. I hurried to catch up with Nathaniel.
Nathaniel did not look back at me, but as soon as I fell into step beside him, he started talking, nodding toward the doors on either side of the hallway. “That’s a waiting room for guests. That door goes to the music room. There’s a sitting room there. The door above those three steps goes to the dining room. Come in here.” Nathaniel stopped in front of a large door on the left.
I pulled the door open and let Nathaniel enter the room ahead of me. Inside, the dim blue glow was still there, but there was also the flickering of firelight. The room was still cold, but the fire in the grate at the far end of the room gave off a warm light and let me see a bit more of my surroundings clearly.
The room was dominated by the stone fireplace, which was flanked by two throne-like oak chairs upholstered with gold and red tapestry fabric showing dragons with swords. The other chairs in the room, and there were several, most of them backless U-shaped Tudor stools, were upholstered in a less complex form of the pattern. There were several paintings on the walls, but the light was too dim for me to make out more than the shape of the frames.
Nathaniel was not paying attention to me. He was pacing around the center of the room; I suspected he was planning our next move. I let him think in peace and used the time to explore the room. The floor was dark wood, with a carpet running down the center. The wall by the fireplace was covered in patterned silk. From what I could tell, the other walls were too. Above the fireplace was a collection of weapons: crossbows, a sword, three maces, and several daggers. Complete suits of armor were hiding in the shadows on both sides of the fireplace.
Nathaniel remembered me in the middle of one of his circuits of the room. He didn’t break his pace as he said, “This was my father’s room for meeting guests in private.”
I looked toward him, but he was no longer facing me so I didn’t answer him. I stayed by the warm light of the fireplace, trying to make out the shapes carved into the wooden beams crossing the ceiling, but the firelight didn’t reach that far.
Two laps later, Nathaniel sat down, staring at the fireplace. I could tell he was thinking, and from his grim look, the plan he was making was pleasing him even less than the one for getting the key from the thorns had. I stayed quiet. I had questions, but nothing helpful to add, and I didn’t want to disturb his thoughts. This was his element, not mine. But I couldn’t help staring at him, watching the light glinting off the ends of his fur before being swallowed in the shadows. He was no longer the emaciated creature I’d seen in the cage. He was now muscular, powerful, a force to be reckoned with. I wondered if I would have come back now, if his eyes would have stirred the same sympathy in me that they had when they were sunken and hungry. Then Nathaniel turned toward me, and I knew I would have. Something about those sad human eyes in that powerful form was almost worse than before. I dropped my gaze, embarrassed that Nathaniel had caught me watching him, but he kept staring. He was studying me. I kept looking at the fire and trying not to wonder what he was thinking.
“Do you see the sword over the fireplace?”
I looked up. He was still staring at me. I couldn’t read his expression now, but it was grim. I quickly turned to the weapons above the fireplace.
It was a long, heavy looking sword. The cross guard was studded with rubies. The hilt itself was ivory, carved with wolves and bears. It was resting on heavy iron brackets and hanging by a thick leather belt strung through the scabbard and over a nail in the wall. “Yes.”
“Can you get it down?”
“I think so.” I went to the mantle. Feste hurried over from a corner and stood in front of me. With his help, I was able to reach the sword. I lifted it out of the iron brackets, careful not to drop it or overbalance and fall off of Feste. The sword was heavy; the carving on the ornate scabbard cut into my hands as I gripped it, and I had to hold it hugged against my chest as I stepped off of Feste.
I held the blade out to Nathaniel, but he made no move to touch it.
“Have you used a sword before?”
I very nearly laughed and asked how in the world I would have learned to fight with a sword, but before I did, I realized what he had said. He hadn’t assumed I was helpless. He was treating me as part of the quest, like the hero he had waited for. I hated to disappoint him, but I answered honestly. This was too important to him, and he needed the truth to plan, even if it meant my time as a hero would be short-lived. “No, never.”
“Then hopefully you’ll be lucky. Put that around your waist and come.” Nathaniel turned and walked out of the room.
I wrapped the belt around my waist. I had to stop walking and concentrate to close the elaborate buckle. The blade slapped against my leg as I hurried to catch up to Nathaniel.
Nathaniel had slowed down once he was outside the room. He made no sign that he was waiting for me, but he did not speak until I fell into step beside him.
“He will have taken the throne room as his own. That is where we fought before.”
I didn’t answer. I was busy trying to remember every movie involving sword fighting I’d ever seen.
Nathaniel led me past the main staircase to a small wooden door. “We must go upstairs to reach the throne room. The main stairs are the most direct route, but he will expect us that way. If we take the servants’ stairs, we will be able to escape detection longer.”
I nodded.
“Then if you would.” Nathaniel nodded to the door.
I twisted the latch and the door swung open. I stood aside so Nathaniel could lead the way.
On the other side, we found a narrow, twisting staircase, but the strange blue light let me see well enough as Nathaniel and I went up.
We came out into another stone passage with several doors. Nathaniel glided down it, soundless as the shadows. My slippers had not been very useful in the forest, but on the stone floors, they allowed me to slink along almost as silently as Nathaniel.
“This is it.” Nathaniel stopped in front of a door. To me, it looked the same as all the others, but Nathaniel seemed certain. I pushed it open.
We were in another hallway, this one wider and decorated with rugs and tapestries. I could see a pair of doors covered in fine, gold leafed carving at the end of the hall. That had to be the throne room. I stepped back into the servants’ stairs.
Nathaniel stayed put. He looked over his shoulder and whispered. “I will use stealth to approach him, but I will not creep into my own throne room like a servant, not with him there.”
I stepped out again and eased the servants’ door closed behind us.
Nathaniel looked down the hallway, grim as a general on the eve of battle. “Will you trust me?”
“Of course.”
“I have an idea of how to win, if I unde
rstand the magic as well as I think I do.” He turned completely around so he was facing me and looked me straight in the eye. “Would you be willing to be a distraction? I will protect you as much as I can.”
I nodded. I’d come too far to say no.
“Draw your sword, give me a count of 100, then go into the throne room and draw attention to yourself however you can. I will come as quickly as I can.”
I drew my sword.
“Be careful.” Nathaniel glided down the hallway and melted into the shadows.
I counted slowly, silently, wanting to give Nathaniel enough time to get to wherever he wanted to be.
But what if he needed me there quickly? Was I taking too long to get to my position? I moved down the hallway, pausing just outside the double doors. I put my bag down out of the way.
I heard the scrape of chair legs on the stone floor. Feste had come and was standing beside me.
“One hundred. Do you think it’s the right time?” I whispered.
Feste nodded.
I clutched the sword in my right hand. With my left, I lifted the latch on the doors. I took a deep breath, which did nothing to calm my nerves, and straightened my shoulders.
I pushed the door a little so the latch wouldn’t catch again, then grasped the sword in both hands. “Ready?”
I didn’t wait for an answer. I raised my leg and kicked the door open.
Chapter 28
The throne room doors burst open, slamming against the stone wall. The crack echoed through the room. I hoped it would give the illusion that I was powerful, even if only for a second. I needed any help I could get; I was terrified to begin with, and more than a little intimidated when I saw the throne room. It was the largest room yet. The floor and walls were dark gray stone, making the room look older and more primitive than anyplace I had seen until now, even with rich tapestries hung every few feet. There was even a fire pit near the dais, covered with an iron cage to keep the unwary from falling in. I was facing the dais, where I could see two mahogany thrones with backs at least eight feet tall. The dais had seven rough marble steps up from the main floor, giving the impression that anyone sitting in the thrones was tall and powerful. Even when they were lounging with one leg draped over the arm of the throne, as Crawa was when I kicked the doors open.
Clara’s description of Crawa had been accurate as far as it went. His skin was yellowed with age and pale from lack of sun. He was stick thin, as if all of his power was feeding off of him. His hair was pale gray and fine; I could see how Clara would have mistaken it for cobwebs spreading over his shoulders. Even now I couldn’t be sure all of it was hair. He was dressed in many layers of velvet robes. I could see glints of what colors they had been, rich reds and blues hidden in the deep pile of the fabric, but they were old, worn, and faded to shades of gray from granite to smoke. I could imagine him hunched over his dark studies, or as a strange, pale creature that only lived under rocks in the darkest caves.
But Clara had not described his nonchalance, the disregard he managed to convey in that leg thrown over the arm of the chair, in the insolent way he lounged as his small sunken eyes took in everything about me, from the sword in my hand to the dress, now decidedly worse for wear, to the look on my face, which must have been frozen in an expression of complete terror.
I strode into the room, trying to look like I knew how to use the sword, hoping I wouldn’t trip over my torn skirt, or worse, faint.
Crawa saw through my act right away and laughed. “Little girl, what do you think you can do to me all alone?”
“I am not alone.” That had sounded better in my head.
“I’m sorry. You are not alone. What do you think you can do to me with the assistance of a piece of furniture? No cats? Pity. Let us see if he can help you.” Crawa got to his feet, pulling his wand from his robes, and I knew Clara had been right about one thing. Every bit of the wizard was tensed with stored power. His back was straight now, no lolling, his eyes focused. This was a warrior, a man who had fought battles and knew how to win them. He pointed his wand at me and sent a bolt of power at me.
I threw myself back and to the side, trying to keep my grip on the sword and keep the blade pointed in a safe direction at the same time. The bolt singed the tapestry behind me.
I got to my feet. Nathaniel had asked me to distract Crawa, and I only had one idea how. I gripped the sword and ran at the wizard. As I got close, I swung the sword at Crawa’s head, knowing he would probably block it or at least move out of the way.
But Crawa made no attempt to block the blow. He didn’t even try to move out of the way. My sword swung right at his head. It should have hit him squarely just above the eyes. I forced my eyes to stay open, even though I knew, if my aim was good, I’d see the result every time I closed my eyes for the rest of my life.
But the blow didn’t hit. It would have; I could see the arc would have brought it to his head, just above the eyes, a good blow. But it did not land. Six inches from Crawa’s head, the sword stopped and slid away, as if it had hit a glass sphere surrounding him.
Crawa smiled. More of a snarl, really. “I told you, little girl, you can’t stop me.”
Nathaniel was not there yet, not as far as I could see, anyway. He needed more time. I would simply have to try again.
I held the sword in front of me like a spear. I ran forward, aiming for the center of the wizard. I didn’t think I could hit him, but maybe I could throw him off balance and buy time. That was all I needed to do.
“So you want to play rough? As you wish.”
A bolt of magic threw me back against the stone wall. I landed against a tapestry which might have softened the blow a little, but as I slid down the wall, I was pulling the tapestry down with me. I rolled out of the way as the heavy oak hanging rod crashed down and almost landed on my head. It hit the ground instead, the finial cracking one of the stones.
Crawa came toward me, wand out. “Now we’ll finish this.”
I had to drag it out, had to give Nathaniel enough time to do whatever he had planned. I slid back toward the wall, raising my sword in front of me.
Crawa murmured the words to a spell. His wand glowed red as the power gathered and sparked. Crawa pointed the wand at me, and stumbled. The bolt missed me and burned the stone wall just above my head. I saw Feste scramble away from beneath Crawa’s robes.
I had just enough time to get my feet under me and my sword raised before Crawa had his balance back. The instant he did, he turned toward me.
I moved away from him, slowly circling, looking for an opportunity, an opening, anything. Crawa stayed put, pivoting so he could follow me with his wand, murmuring the words to another spell. I kept moving, not letting him fix his spell on me.
Crawa finished his spell and threw it at my chest. I jumped to the side. The spell grazed my arm, burning my sleeve. I felt the heat of the burn on my arm, but ignored it, too focused on staying alive long enough to help Nathaniel to have any bit of brain free for anything, even self-preservation.
As Crawa started his next spell, I thought I’d have a few seconds to do something. I didn’t have a chance to think how to use the sword. Instead I ran forward, the sword in my right hand aimed at his wand arm, my left hand clawed, aiming for his face. The sword and my hand both glanced off the invisible shield.
My attack had broken Crawa’s concentration, but it didn’t seem to bother him. He smirked at me. “Little girl, the magic keeps you out. I told you you were no match for me.” He began the words to his spell again.
But he had not seen what I saw. Behind Crawa, on the dais, behind one of the curtains on the wall behind the thrones, there was a door. A door which was opening. I backed away from Crawa, moving from side to side, but no longer circling. I wanted to keep Crawa’s back to the dais.
It only took a few seconds. The door flew open. Nathaniel growled, his hackles raised, his claws out. Crawa heard the growl. I was no longer important to him. He turned to Nathaniel. “You returned.
How futile. As I was telling your poor excuse for a hero, I have defenses you can only dream of.”
Nathaniel didn’t respond, just growled again and bounded to the stairs. Crawa laughed as Nathaniel leapt from the sixth step. He was still smiling when Nathaniel landed on him, knocking him back on the stone floor.
Crawa stared at Nathaniel, too shocked to be afraid. “My shield stops all … “
“Your magic can pass through it. How else could you attack? And I am part of your magic now.”
Crawa went the same jaundiced white as the ivory on my sword handle.
Nathaniel stood over him. With one claw, he scratched along Crawa’s sleeve, right where I had been burned. Red blood spilled across the wizard’s sleeve.
“I see, I see, you want to prove to me that you are the ruler of this place. We can share. I can share.”
Nathaniel growled.
Crawa wiggled under Nathaniel. “I can share, I tell you. We can rule side by side.” But before Nathaniel had a chance to answer, I saw Crawa flick his wrist. I wanted to cry out, but before I could form a sound, Crawa had pulled a knife from his sleeve and was pointing it at Nathaniel’s chest.
I didn’t think, didn’t even have time to be afraid, just pulled myself away from the wall and ran at Crawa with no plan, nothing but the thought that I had to get that knife away from vital parts of Nathaniel. I grabbed at the hand with the knife. Crawa twisted it away from me, slamming Nathaniel in the eye as he struggled, knocking Nathaniel away from him.
Ella and the Panther's Quest Page 19