by K. C. Herbel
Billy stood frozen by shock and horror as the rain streaked down his face. He never imagined that his plan could go so wrong. He never thought that anyone would be killed. All at once, his knees buckled, and he fell to the ground vomiting.
A sound abruptly entered Billy’s consciousness—someone grunting heavily, struggling. Impulsively, he ran to the edge of the broken wall.
“Dhwen!” Billy shouted.
Billy’s stomach knotted as he looked over the edge. Far below, on the ground, lay the broken body of Dhwen. One of Ergyfel’s troghouls had already found the body and was shaking it like a rag. However, the most alarming sight was Ergyfel, clinging for his life to a piece of shattered scaffolding, just a few feet below.
The magister looked up at the edge and saw Billy. Despite the considerable effort required to hold on, Ergyfel found the energy to speak.
“You!” Ergyfel spat. “Here to finish the job, faerie?”
“I’m no faerie,” answered Billy.
“What does it matter now, faerie? I’m at your mercy. Exact your revenge and be done with it!”
The rickety scaffolding shook, and Ergyfel’s grip started to slip. Billy’s heart and mind raced. If he didn’t help the magister, he would most surely fall to his death, but if he did help him . . .
Ergyfel is a murderer, thought Billy. He killed Dhwen, he’s trying to kill the king, and for all I know, he might have killed the queen!
Billy looked again at the body of Dhwen. Truly he was as responsible for the physician’s death as the magister, or at least he felt like he was. If he let Ergyfel fall, he would be responsible for yet another death. No matter what Ergyfel had done, Billy didn’t like the way that felt.
Billy quickly dug through the construction materials and found a rope. He tied one end around a crenel then ran back to the ledge.
“Here!” shouted Billy, tossing the rope to Ergyfel.
The magister eyed the rope suspiciously but did not move to catch it. It swung back to the wall below Billy.
“Take it!” insisted Billy, swinging the rope back to the First Counselor. “Take it and I’ll pull you up.”
“Why should I trust you, faerie?” spat Ergyfel.
“Why do you say I’m a faerie?” asked Billy. “Is it the troghouls?”
“Among other things.”
“Take the rope!” repeated Billy. “I’ll help you.”
“Why should I believe you?”
Billy looked directly into the magister’s eyes and said very levelly, “Because you must.”
Lightning flashed in the outer ward, and the scaffolding groaned ominously. The thin board Ergyfel held on to started to split under the load of his weight.
“Now!” shouted Billy.
Ergyfel released one hand and caught the rope just as the board snapped. He fell five feet before the rope became taut and swung him into the wall. The impact knocked the wind from Ergyfel’s lungs, but he managed to keep hold of the rope.
Billy strained to pull the king’s cousin up the wall. His back and arms ached as Ergyfel neared the top. The magister weakly reached for the ledge, and Billy stretched down to help him.
Billy’s arm suddenly tingled, and as he touched Ergyfel’s hand, there was a blinding flash of light and the stench of burned flesh. The magister cried out in pain.
For an instant, all Billy could see was bright, stark whiteness. The brightness faded, and he found himself gazing at the serene beauty of the queen’s garden.
An angry shout from the far side of the pond shattered the calm elegance. Billy saw that the very same argument he had witnessed before was in progress. The queen’s form and that of her adversary were still hazy, but Billy detected another figure, clearly standing behind the murderer. Billy focused on this figure and then realized he was moving toward it.
Billy found a thin young man, little more than a boy, vaguely familiar, with an impudent, spoiled sneer. The youth silently held up a fine-boned hand and pointed a long finger in the direction of the queen. Suddenly he clenched his fist, and the queen’s attacker struck her down. Billy watched in horror as the youth raised his other hand, and the man put his hands around the queen’s throat. Again and again the young man thrust out his hands, and like a puppet, the murderer throttled his victim. Billy wanted desperately to stop the killer but could do nothing to affect him.
When the queen’s body dangled limply, the young man’s lips curled into a weak, snakelike smile, and he dropped his hands. He wiped the sweat from his brow and slowly crossed to the murderer who knelt, holding his lifeless victim. He placed a hand on the assassin’s shoulder, who then dropped the queen’s body into the pond.
A blinding light overpowered Billy’s vision again. When his sight cleared, he found himself lying in a puddle, staring at dark clouds. Cold rain splashed on to his face, and he sat up, blinking the water from his eyes. He wasn’t sure how long the vision had lasted, but Billy felt the lapse in his awareness had only been a few seconds.
As Billy tried to get reoriented, the magister’s thin hands slipped over the edge and clasped the broken wall. An ugly burn ran across the back of one hand, and a trickle of blood oozed from the blisters as Ergyfel used every ounce of his energy to pull himself onto the wall. He heaved his upper body onto the walkway, glaring at Billy with murderous intent. He cradled his wounded hand and gritted his teeth together.
“You faeries and your cursed tricks!” he spat. “You won’t think it’s so funny when I . . .” The magister stopped abruptly, and his face took on an expression of complete awe.
“The ring!” shouted Ergyfel, regaining strength. “You have the ring!”
Billy looked down and saw his ring glowing with an eerie blue light. He experienced a slight tingling in his hand as the light faded, and the ring took on its normal metallic sheen.
“Give me the ring!” demanded Ergyfel, now standing over Billy.
Billy scrambled to his feet and backed away. “No!”
“Give me the ring,” repeated Ergyfel in a less demanding tone.
“No,” said Billy, “it’s mine!”
Ergyfel raised an eyebrow and examined his damaged hand. He sneered at Billy and then suddenly whistled. Ergyfel motioned with his fingers, and Billy realized that he was signaling to someone behind him.
Billy spun and saw two troghouls crudely loping across the wall. His heart skipped a beat as they grinned their ugly toothy smiles at him and licked rain from their scabby lips.
“Give the ring to me,” said the magister, “or shall I have them relieve you of it?”
To Billy’s left was Ergyfel, to his right two hungry troghouls, and behind him the broken wall. Impulsively, Billy broke for the gap in the wall. He grabbed the rope and flung himself over the edge.
“Blast!” exclaimed Ergyfel, dashing to look down on his prey.
Billy quickly scrambled down the rope, but there was nowhere to go. Dhwen and Ergyfel had nearly destroyed the scaffolding, and the rope wasn’t long enough to reach anything safe.
Now what? Billy asked himself. That was really stupid!
Billy looked up and saw the magister and his loathsome pets staring down at him. The King’s First Counselor pulled out his dagger and tauntingly touched its edge to the rope.
“Let us cut to the chase,” said Ergyfel smugly.
“No, don’t! Please!” pleaded Billy.
The magister stopped short. “I’ll ask you only one more time, you pathetic, little freak,” he said. “Give me the ring.”
“Why?”
“I want it!”
“But it’s mine!” insisted Billy.
“You lie,” said Ergyfel, cutting one of three cords in Billy’s rope.
Billy felt the rope stretch and nearly lost control of his bodily functions. He searched for a place to grab hold of, or a soft spot to land. Below him, the first troghoul patiently sat atop the dead physician, smiling and coaxing him down with a long black-clawed finger.
“Just out of curiosit
y,” said Ergyfel, “where did you get it?”
Billy returned his attention to his interrogator. “It belonged to my mother,” he stated.
“Your mother?” mused Ergyfel, cutting the second cord.
Billy screamed, and at that moment Ergyfel’s face lost its sneer. His eyes shifted from side to side, and his lips slowly formed a crooked smile—first one side of his mouth and then the other. Suddenly the magister threw back his head and crowed at the sky. When his face came back down, he smiled diabolically at Billy.
“So, boy, you still live!” said Ergyfel gloating. “But don’t worry. When you fall to your death, I’ll be sure to take the ring from your bloody finger.”
A stroke of lightning lit up the First Counselor’s face, and Billy felt as if he had been struck through the heart. The spoiled, arrogant countenance of the young man who had orchestrated the queen’s murder stared back at him.
“You killed the queen,” said Billy numbly.
“And now you shall finally join her,” said Ergyfel, cutting into the rope.
Billy cried out and wildly waved his arms as the last cord of his lifeline snapped. He crashed through one board and then another, before a scaffolding cross-member caught under his arm. Despite the intense pain this caused his ribs, Billy managed to hold on to the beam.
“Blast!” shouted Ergyfel from above. “Confound you! Will you not die?”
Billy glanced over his shoulder at the magister, then back to the troghoul still waiting below. For the mean time he was safe—if he could just hold on until help arrived.
“Go after him!” Billy heard Ergyfel shout.
Billy twisted around and watched as the magister dragged one of his offensive watchdogs to the edge of the wall and kicked it. The beast tried to remain where it was, but its balance was too far forward and its footing too slippery. The monster, realizing its predicament, made the best of it and leapt towards Billy.
Down the troghoul came, with teeth bared and claws spread. Billy gripped the beam with his legs and closed his eyes, preparing to meet with his end. A moment later, Billy felt a sharp pain in his arm and the entire scaffolding set in motion. The remaining structure swayed with a creak and a groan.
Billy opened his eyes and found himself inches away from the troghoul. One claw of the miscreant pierced his arm while all its remaining weapons held firmly to the beam. The monster tilted its ugly face to the side and presented a full spread of large yellow fangs. Even in the rain, the stench from its mouth was overwhelming. It snickered at him and impishly withdrew its claw from his flesh. Billy felt the pain stiffening his arm, sapping his strength. The beast sniffed its bloody claw, and its eyes grew large. Quickly, it licked Billy’s blood from its extremity, closing its eyes with an expression of ecstasy. Its breathing quickened and grew deeper, and Billy carefully inched away.
“What’s taking you so long?” shouted Ergyfel. “Just kill him!”
The troghoul lifted up its face into the rain and let loose a horrible, bloody howl, which excited the others into yapping, frenzied howls. Billy’s blood ran cold. Much too soon for Billy, the beast returned its gaze to him. Its eyes swelled with lusty hunger, and its body shook with pent-up, berserk energy.
All at once, the troghoul lunged at Billy. The jarring movement tore free the beam, which instantly batted the beast from the air. Billy clamped on to the timber with all his might and was soon swinging upside down as it danced and dangled from its shaky upright.
Below Billy hung the gory body of his would-be killer, its spine clearly shattered by a splintered spar, which impaled it through the chest. Billy clenched his eyes tightly against the image of twisted, twitching flesh.
“Ho there!” someone shouted from a distance.
Billy opened his eyes. Ergyfel was squinting down the length of the wall towards the donjon.
“Curse and confound you!” raged the magister through clenched teeth. He gave Billy a dark look so filled with bloody intent that Billy’s fear of falling completely evaporated. “You might yet survive this night, brat,” spat Ergyfel, “but our dear Kathryn will not be so lucky!” With a snap of his cloak, the dark sorcerer turned and vanished into the night.
“Ho there!” repeated the voice, now closer. “Stop!”
“Down here!” yelled Billy. The blood rushing to his head made shouting extremely painful.
The troghoul on the wall crouched low and bared its teeth. Billy could hear footsteps from above and the creature growling . . . then the ring of metal sliding across metal. Instantly the beast leapt from Billy’s view. There came a hollow thump and the skitter of loose rocks skipping across the stone wall. The creature let out a near-human cry, which abruptly sputtered to a gurgle then was silent. The only sound Billy could hear was the applause of the rain.
“I’m down here!” repeated Billy. “I’m down here.”
There was no answer, and then Billy heard the creak of the scaffolding as it shifted further from the wall. He remembered the remaining troghoul beneath him and looked down. With glittering eyes, the beast stared up at him. It growled and then slipped away into the shadows.
“William!” shouted a voice from above.
Billy looked up and saw Gaelyn standing at the breach in the wall, his bloodied dagger in hand. Hastily the prince scanned the wall and then ducked out of view.
“Come back!” shouted Billy, growing weaker. His head pounded painfully with each beat of his heart, but he didn’t dare let go of the beam. Billy tapped his deepest reserves as his weakness continued to grow. He was losing his grip, and Gaelyn still had not returned.
I have to warn Kathryn, thought Billy, starting to cry. “Come back, Gaelyn,” he muttered, “Please, come back.”
At that moment a rope dropped next to Billy. Forthwith, the prince shinnied down it. As he arrived next to Billy, the timbers groaned loudly. Gaelyn snagged Billy’s belt with a free hand, and the scaffolding collapsed with an enormous crash.
Billy clung to the prince’s well-muscled leg, his energy all but gone. His mind and hands could no longer function. He had to wrap his arms and legs around his savior to keep from falling.
Slowly, Prince Gaelyn pulled himself and Billy back onto the wall. The downpour worsened, but they didn’t care. They collapsed on to the wet stones and stared at each other through the drops, too tired to say anything.
Eventually the prince caught his breath. “What on earth happened here, William?”
Billy numbly answered, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
He scanned the body of the troghoul a few feet away. The prince had made quick work of the beast with a single wound to the chest. Its crumpled form reminded Billy of the other troghoul, and of Dhwen. Billy dragged himself to the gap in the wall and looked down. The lifeless body of the old man still lay in an awkward heap at the foot of the wall. Billy closed his eyes, wishing he could forget, wishing he could take it all back.
How foolish I’ve been, thought Billy. Foolish and arrogant! His mind conjured up a vision of the dead physician’s family, people he had never met but had managed to harm just the same. Billy hung his head and wept.
Chapter XIX
Hullabaloo
“Kathryn!” shouted Billy, finally coming to his senses.
“Kathryn?” repeated Prince Gaelyn curiously.
Billy leapt to his feet and grabbed Gaelyn by the arm. “We’ve got to stop him!” he said, pulling the noble to his feet.
“Who? What?” asked the prince.
“He’s gonna kill her!” shouted Billy, running towards the donjon.
Gaelyn gave chase, following Billy the length of the wall. “Who’s going to kill whom?” he asked between breaths.
Billy never slowed down as he descended the steps and crossed the vacant inner ward. Prince Gaelyn, despite his athletic physique and superior length of stride, could hardly keep up with him.
“Guards! Guards!” shouted Billy.
As they entered the donjon, Billy felt a strange
sensation. He slowed to a stop and scanned the entry hall.
“What is it?” asked Gaelyn, coming up behind him. “What’s going on?”
Billy glanced about nervously. “The guards!” he exclaimed.
Gaelyn cast his eye about the entry hall. As usual, there was a guard standing watch at each corner. He didn’t see any reason for concern.
Billy grabbed the guard at the entrance and shook him. The man leaned and then slumped forward. A moment later, his helmet and spear smacked the floor. Billy stepped back as the guard’s body came crashing down at his feet.
Gaelyn looked to the other guards for a reaction, but they didn’t move. “What the devil?” he said.
Billy poked the downed guard, who smiled, mumbled, and rolled into a fetal position. When Billy’s kick had no reaction, he said, “He’s asleep!”
Gaelyn took the guard nearest the stairway by the shoulders and shook him. “Wake up, man!” he shouted.
The guard smiled and oozed into the prince’s arms. Gaelyn caught him and held him up against the wall.
“Hurry!” shouted Billy starting up the stairs.
The prince grabbed Billy by the wrist and spun him around. “Tell me what the devil is happening here!” he demanded.
Billy broke free from his grip and ran up the stairs. “It’s Ergyfel! He’s trying to kill Kathryn!”
Prince Gaelyn threw the guard to the floor and charged up the steps. He passed Billy before they reached the top and ran through the oddly empty hallways toward the royal chambers.
“Alarm!” shouted Gaelyn. “Alarm!”
Billy and the prince raced on and reached the royal wing without seeing a single guard, servant, or guest. Billy became unbearably frightened as they passed his room and saw the door to the newlywed’s chambers ajar.
Prince Gaelyn never lost stride as he drew his dagger and slammed into the door. The door exploded away from the nobleman with a crash, and he continued into the central chamber. Billy entered the room on the prince’s tail.
A dark figure crouched in the dimly lit archway of the balcony. It was a slender man dressed entirely in black, his face hidden behind a veil. He held a long curved blade in his hand and between his feet laid a body. By the color of her hair and the beautiful dress, Billy knew it was Princess Kathryn.