by Anne Barwell
"Cat gave her the horse? It was his?" Why would he give anything to that bitch, especially if he refused to acknowledge their engagement?
"Avoiding all that society dictates of a person in his position is dangerous," Will explained. "Besides, they have been friends since childhood. It was merely a gift from one friend to another, and he made that very clear. And as I said, the horse has good instincts."
"So, what's she called?" Tomas was curious now, doubtful that Cathal would have chosen the name lightly. A chance to insult Deryn probably would have been an added bonus. It would have been to Tomas.
"It is a name that makes no sense to me either." Will gestured toward the direction in which Deryn and Arthur had headed several minutes beforehand. "Come, we should go." He leaned over and whispered in Tomas's ear. "Tomas and Buttercup. The names work well together, don't you think?"
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Chapter Twenty-Three
Tomas stared at Will for a moment and then snorted. "Buttercup? He called the horse Buttercup?" Despite the way he was feeling, or perhaps because of it, Tomas began to laugh. Whatever way Cathal had meant it, either in reference to Deryn or to himself, the irony was either a very good joke or a very bad one.
"The reference is from your world then?" Will did not seem amused.
"Yes, it's from a story." Tomas decided that was the easiest way to explain it, not wanting to launch into specifics of popular culture. "A princess is about to be married, and her true love returns to rescue her." Saying it aloud, the parallels of it to the current situation suddenly struck him. "It's a story about heroism, evil monsters, and swordfights," he finished slowly.
"Interesting," Will remarked, shaking his head. "So one of the horses is called Buttercup?" He urged his horse into a canter, and Tomas followed.
"No, that's the princess." Tomas matched Will's speed and rode up alongside. He'd be glad when this journey was over, and so would his aching muscles. Some hero he was; the way he was feeling now, he wouldn't be able to hold a sword, let alone fight. More likely he'd end up skewered after he'd made a complete idiot of himself. Or fallen off his horse.
"I see," Will looked Tomas up and down, his expression serious. "So what part in this do you play, I wonder?"
"It's a story, Will, nothing more." Tomas wasn't going to fall into that trap again. He was not the heroic type. Finding out Alice's book was true had been enough to deal with. Once he found Cathal, they would be out of here, and it would be the finish of this particular story, complete with their happy ending. All he had to do was figure out how to free Cathal and get them both home.
"Most stories have a basis in some kind of fact." Will frowned. "But unfortunately, reality isn't as simple as the fairytale version makes us believe, and just because something is worth fighting for doesn't mean that it is easy to achieve."
Tomas didn't like the way Will's words sounded as though they were a reflection of past experience. "Yeah, that's a given."
"Yes, it is." Will smiled a little sadly. "But is the price too high?" He was quiet for a few moments, the only sound around them the horses' hooves against the grass, the dark closing in further around them.
Straining his eyes, Tomas could see a faint light ahead, but before he could ask what it was, Will motioned both horses to stop, his breath a thin, off-white smoke as he studied Tomas once more.
"What?" Tomas shivered, Buttercup restless beneath him. He stroked the horse's mane but didn't dare whisper reassurances this time. This moment was Will's; it was his place to break the silence that followed.
"This is your last chance to turn back from this path, Tomas." Will glanced between Tomas and the light ahead. "I cannot tell you what will happen once we enter the castle walls, just that there is great danger ahead. I will also be very limited in what I can do to help you; most likely I will not be able to at all."
"Is Cathal in there?" Tomas hadn't thought for a moment that this was going to be easy. Deryn had something planned for him, for both him and Cathal, and he doubted it would be pleasant.
"Yes." Will's horse whinnied softly. He stroked its mane to quiet it. The night was still, almost as though time itself were slowed, listening, waiting, the curtain poised halfway between acts.
"Then I can't turn back, Will." Tomas managed a shaky smile of his own. He nodded toward the light. "My future is with him, and I can't just walk away. I need to see it through, whatever happens."
"This isn't a story, Tomas," Will reminded him very quietly. "Life isn't always fair, and love sometimes is not enough. If you turn back now, you get to live. You enter those walls, and there is a good chance you may not."
"I know that." The light winked out for a moment, plunging them into darkness before returning again quickly. "But I love him, and I have to at least try. A few moments with him is better than a lifetime alone."
"You're either very brave or very foolish, but either way, I wish you luck." Will's next words were spoken almost to himself. "If he thinks you are worth it, perhaps you are. I hope for both your sakes he is not mistaken."
"I don't care if I am or not. He is worth it to me, and that is what matters." Tomas ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it back off his face. It was time to stop hiding. For the first time in his life, he'd found something worth fighting for and someone he truly cared for enough to risk everything. That he'd admitted that fact not only to himself but to someone else confirmed it very clearly.
Will bowed his head in Tomas's direction in a gesture of respect. He went to return it, but Will shook his head and motioned toward the castle. "We need to hurry. Keep on her good side and show respect for as long as you are able. It may buy you some time."
Then, without waiting for a reply, Will urged his horse toward the light, and Tomas, hoping he hadn't just completely sealed his fate and Cathal's by what he'd said, gritted his teeth, hung onto his horse, and followed.
* * * *
The rest of their journey passed very quickly. Tomas had expected it to crawl, especially with the silence between them. His heart was racing, his mouth was dry, and his body ached, yet he felt an anticipation and excitement he hadn't before. Cathal was in this castle somewhere, and this hadn't been for nothing. Whatever happened, they would face it together. Tomas was not going to just sit and wait for the person he loved to return to him, not like Alice had done.
Alice hadn't had a choice though, and Tomas's hopes could all crumble to nothing once he entered the castle grounds. Depending on what Deryn had planned, he might not get to see Cathal, let alone touch him, hold him, and reassure him.
The light grew closer; there wasn't just one source of it as Tomas had originally thought but several torches burning to illuminate the side entrance. Will knocked on the door, and it opened slowly to admit them into the courtyard, the man on duty not saying a word, acknowledging them with a slight nod of his head. Footsteps sounded in the distance, boots hurrying against dried mud, but Tomas ignored them, wanting to examine his surroundings before the opportunity was taken from him.
The tall tower inside the thick, fortified walls--it was called a keep if he remembered correctly--was a combination of brick and ancient wood. It too seemed to be designed to keep enemies out, or perhaps in, once they had been lured in by the resident spider, as he had been. Tomas shivered, feeling insignificant and very much a man out of his own time and place. It was as though he'd stepped even further into the past of his own world, but at the same time some of the details didn't feel quite right, although he couldn't put a finger on what, exactly. Not that he was a historian by any means, but there was a feeling that he couldn't shake, a wrongness that made him very uneasy. However long the keep had stood, it felt older than anything he'd seen before; generations had probably lived and died within its walls, and it would no doubt still be standing when he and Cathal were mere memories, more than likely forgotten by most.
Tilting his head back, he looked up, trying to make out the symbol
on the flag flying from the highest point of the tower, but it was too dark to see. He snorted. Considering who the owner was, he wouldn't have been surprised if the flag carried this world's version of a skull and crossbones.
The footsteps grew closer, three men approaching them quickly. Will dismounted his horse, and Tomas followed suit, giving his reins to Will when he held out his hand for them. Swaying on his feet, his legs unsteady after being in the saddle, he forced himself to stand upright, determined not to show any weakness.
"Tomas Kemp, the Lady Deryn has requested your presence," the first man stated. He was tall, not very well built, his tone firm, its message that while this was worded as a request, refusal was not an option. He also was well armed; a longsword hung from his side, and there was a dagger tucked into his belt.
"And you would be?" Tomas asked, standing his ground, hoping at least to get some kind of hint of what was going to happen next. Behind him, Will spoke softly to both horses and then led them away. They would need rubbing down, feeding, and watering before settling them down in the stables for the night. Fighting the urge to watch him go, Tomas instead glared at the blond man in front of him, ignoring the realization that he was now on his own, the one person who might have been his ally having just left him alone to deal with whoever these men were.
"The person sent to take you to Lady Deryn." The man gestured to the two men either side of him, both of whom drew their swords. "I was told that you were a stranger to our land and might need some introduction to the way we do things here. When your presence is requested, you do not ask questions, you obey. My lady did not say that you still needed to be in one piece, or in perfect condition. If she requires this, it is usually stated, and it wasn't."
"Oh." Tomas knew the word wasn't the wittiest of responses, but the idea of being presented in pieces was one that his imagination was a little too prepared to play with. He let his hands fall to his sides, trying to look as harmless as possible. It wasn't difficult considering how tired and sore he was. "Does taking me to her also take me to Lord Emerys?" The question was worth asking, even if it didn't get a reply.
"I am merely to take you to her, nothing more." Conversation was obviously not high on his list of strong points, unless it was Threatening Captives 101. Tomas was under no illusions that this was probably what he was now that he was inside the castle walls. Will had warned him of it in not so many words.
"Okay, fine." Tomas hesitated and then decided he'd give this one more shot. "Do you have a name, then? Any of you?"
The blond man laughed, but it was not an expression of amusement. "That, I suppose, is permitted, as you will find out soon enough. My name is Jasper." He gestured to Tomas to follow, the other two men moving into positions behind so that their captive was surrounded. "Speak when you are spoken to, nothing more, and do not ask any more questions. I am a reasonable man; others who serve her are not."
If he was reasonable, Tomas didn't want to see an example of not. So, keep quiet and see what happened next. If he was not led to Cathal, he'd demand that Deryn hold to her promise... or something. Of course it would be helpful if he had any idea what that something might entail, but one step at a time. Earlier that day he'd doubted he would ever see Cathal again, let alone find a way into his world, so in that regard, at least, things were better than they had been. Now he was being marched by men with swords into a castle in the middle of nowhere. Yes, things were really looking up.
Jasper led them down a side path which was more mud than anything. It did not appear that pavements were in common use in this world, if at all. Smaller buildings littered the inside of the stronghold; the smell of cooking came from one of them, men's voices from another. Although he could not see much with the little light there was, Tomas doubted that there was another way in apart from the door through which Will had brought him. The castles he'd read about had drawbridges, but he'd yet to see one. The chances of escaping, even if he did find Cathal, were becoming slimmer with each moment. All Tomas had focused on up to this point was finding Cathal; he hadn't given much thought to what would happen then. Some hero he'd turned out to be, but this wasn't a story; maybe there didn't need to be just one. Cathal knew this world. Tomas didn't. With each other's help, they stood a better chance of figuring a way out.
Stopping at a heavy wooden door, Jasper took a large metal key out of his pocket and ushered Tomas inside, the guards--for that could be the only thing they were--following him closely behind. Once they were all inside, Jasper relocked the door and replaced the key in his pocket. Taking a torch down from the wall at the beginning of the passage, he moved again to the front and began walking down a narrow corridor.
The air around them grew colder, with the walls on either side of them damp to the touch. Although there were no steps, Tomas had the feeling of moving downward through several levels under the keep. As well as the torch Jasper carried, there were several on the walls at intervals providing enough light to prevent missing footing, but the farther they descended the more it felt as though the enclosed space was closing around them with only enough room to walk single file.
If this was the only way out, he and Cathal were well and truly screwed.
What did Deryn want with Cathal, exactly? The overheard conversation had mentioned responsibilities that he wouldn't accept, but surely it had to be more than just agreeing to marry her? Tomas sighed. He'd rushed into this, thinking being here would make a difference, that just finding Cathal would be enough, but it was becoming clearer with each passing minute that it wasn't. He knew nothing about this world apart from what he'd seen over the last few hours and the little Cathal had said. Neither boded particularly well.
Jasper stopped, and Tomas, lost in his thoughts, almost walked into him. One of the guards behind him pulled him back by his cloak, holding him in place. "No further until my lady orders it," the man announced in a flat voice.
"Fine, whatever," Tomas mumbled, not wanting to argue the point and aggravate him more. Finding Cathal came first; he'd deal with the details later. The grip on his cloak tightened. He fought the urge to tell this guy to fuck off, bit his lip, and tried to work out what Jasper had stopped for.
Ahead of them was a dead end, a wall made of brick blocking their way. Could they have taken a wrong turn? No, that was impossible, as there had not been any paths off the one they had followed.
The torch in Jasper's hand flickered. Tomas felt a cold breeze around his lower legs. The man behind him let go of his cloak for a moment, sliding one arm around him, holding Tomas firmly against him so he couldn't move. Normally Tomas would have struggled, but he still ached all over, and he was tired. The man was taller than Tomas by at least half a foot, and well built. It would have been foolish to try.
Besides, if Tomas appeared not to be a threat, they might relax their guard a little. He sighed, wondering who he was trying to fool. If he tried anything, it was doubtful he'd get far. There was nowhere to go, and they were well armed while he had a dagger he wasn't sure he'd be able to use against anyone if his bluff was called and a small drawstring bag of herbs that made horses docile but did God knew what to humans.
Jasper ran his hand over a portion of the wall, took a wooden stick about six inches in length from the inside of his cloak, and used it to draw out a rough area about the size of a door. He then waited a few moments and recited a string of words in a language Tomas had never heard before. The bricks inside the drawn outline disappeared, leaving a door-shaped hole in the wall in front of them. He stepped through, the guard restraining Tomas shoved him through, and then he and the other man followed behind.
Landing on his hands and knees and face on a rough floor, Tomas tried to scramble to his feet, but a heavy boot shoved in his back kept him where he was. "Let me up," he hissed. Cooperation was one thing, but this position was quite another.
"I think I like you just where you are," a familiar voice purred. "I much prefer a man on his knees, deferring to me and s
howing his respect."
Tomas spat out a mouthful of straw. Fingers grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head up, forcing him to look at the so-called lady in front of him. "I am not deferring to you," he spat, "and respect has to be earned."
"We'll see." She smiled and nodded, and the guard holding Tomas's hair let go. Tomas hit the floor again, grunting when a wave of pain went through his jaw. Another nod and the boot holding him in place was removed. He got to his feet as quickly as he could, ignoring the needles of stabbing agony in the small of his back.
Blinking, he scanned what appeared to be a smallish room, trying to work out where the hell he was. Deryn stood in front of him. In her hands she held the riding crop she had used on her horse. The outfit she had worn for their journey had been replaced by a long green dress, the hem of which brushed against the floor. It was low-cut across her bodice and gathered under her breasts. Her hair was tied back off her face, dark netting holding it up in a bun.
The rest of the room was empty apart from a table and two chairs; the table appeared to be wood, sturdy but nothing out of the ordinary, or so Tomas thought until he caught sight of the carving etched into the top of it. A small oval object about the size of his palm lay on the table, intricately designed, but he couldn't make out the detail from this distance. There were no windows; light was provided by a torch at each corner of the room, but there was another door at the far end of it. Tomas debated making a run for it, then decided against it. Apart from the fact the door was probably locked, he had no idea where it might lead.
"Where is Cathal?" he demanded, anger overriding common sense, which dictated staying on her good side would be the sensible thing to do about now.