by Paul Durham
“Days fondly remembered,” Harmless said. “Perhaps I’ll reacquaint you.”
Rye didn’t like the direction of the conversation. Hyde’s attention was focused on the clearing, so she fidgeted her legs, trying to gauge how fast she might climb to her feet. The dog let out a low growl, and she froze.
“Yes, the good old days,” Slinister repeated. “I, too, long for them. This lawman business has grown tiresome.”
“And when you robbed the Mud Sleigh, breaking our bargain with Good Harper,” Harmless said, “was that Valant the lawman or Slinister the Luck Ugly?”
“Killpenny rode under the protection of our reputation for ten years without paying for it. As I see it, I was just collecting our past-due commission.”
“You put a nail in our coffins with every bargain you break,” Harmless said.
Slinister shrugged. “Grand plans require resources. Last autumn, when you sounded the Call to Drowning, it presented a most interesting . . . opportunity.”
“Opportunity?” Harmless asked.
Slinister nodded. “Yes. There are pressing developments to be discussed. Matters that affect all the Luck Uglies.”
“And what might those be?” Harmless asked.
“You would know if you weren’t spending all your time playing watchdog for your family, or taking holidays at your little hideaway.” Slinister’s tone was bitter. “Grabstone, you call it?”
“So you’ve learned of Grabstone,” Harmless said gravely.
“Yes, a lovely girl told me all about it.”
Harmless’s eyes flared.
Rye could hardly contain herself any longer. She might not be faster than a dog, but she only had to make it far enough for Harmless to see her.
“I really gave her no choice,” Slinister continued.
Harmless rose menacingly from the stump at Slinister’s words. Slinister raised a cautionary finger, his other hand resting on the hilt of the blade at his side. “Stop and think,” he warned. “Think long and hard before you take your next step.”
Rye sprang to her feet. Before Hyde or the dog could react she tore from the trees as fast as her legs would take her.
“At the moment, your daughter is on a very small rock in a very large—”
Slinister’s voice came to a dead stop.
Rye could only call out a muffled cry as she ran to Harmless. He pulled her in tight. She couldn’t hug him either since her hands were still bound, but he removed the leather strap from her teeth.
“He stranded me on an island . . . he said you couldn’t hurt him because then I’d be stuck there forever . . . but it’s all right because I’m here now,” she said breathlessly. Her eyes flared and she turned to Slinister.
Slinister wasn’t wearing the white ash of the Fork-Tongue Charmers, but the color drained from his face as if a ghost had just rasped in his ear. Incredulous, he looked to Hyde, who stood with the dog at the edge of the treeline.
“Rye O’Chanter,” Slinister said slowly. “I am speechless.”
“I told you you would see me again,” Rye said defiantly.
“Yes,” Slinister said quietly. “And I told you, bad luck follows wherever I tread.” He shook his head. Slinister seemed more stunned than angry.
Harmless’s rage was beyond words, but the two swords at his back spoke for him, hissing as he drew them from their sheaths. He seemed to catch himself before he advanced toward Slinister, tilting his neck as if listening. Rye heard something too. Hooves. Horses.
“Our guests have arrived early,” Slinister said, repositioning his leather helmet over his skull. He twisted his face and seemed to push back whatever emotion had left him so flustered. “You’ll appreciate this part, Gray,” he said in a near whisper.
An armored soldier on horseback appeared from a break in the trees. He was followed by a parade of mounted troops, each of the warhorses adorned in black-and-blue tartan saddle blankets. There were so many soldiers they were able to form a tight ring around the entire clearing.
“I told him to bring every man he could spare,” Slinister explained to Harmless. “In case you had any surprises in store.” He glanced at Rye. “Although, it appears your well of surprises has finally run dry.”
Harmless sized up the soldiers warily but didn’t move from his position at Rye’s side.
With the area now secured, Rye saw a final horse and rider emerge from the trees. The man in the saddle was framed tall and harsh, like the jagged pines rising high above them. He guided his umber-colored stallion around the perimeter twice, surveying the surroundings with hard coal eyes. His dark hair was tied in an elaborate knot atop his head. The long ends of his mustache were plaited and dangled down past his chin like the barbels of a catfish. The last time Rye had seen him, he’d worn a similarly adorned beard. That was right before Harmless cut it off and promised to feed it to the Bog Noblins.
The rider was Earl Morningwig Longchance.
He directed his steed to the center of the stumps, where Slinister greeted him with a broad smile. Hyde followed closely behind. Spidercreep had become aware of the new arrivals and sniffed the air anxiously. The stillness of the forest was now broken up by the snorts of nervous horses, the scuffling of their hooves, and the gentle clank of riders’ armor.
Longchance stared down at Harmless from high atop his mount. Harmless and Rye were alone and surrounded by soldiers, and yet Longchance still maintained a healthy distance.
“I’m glad you found us,” Slinister said. “I hope my directions through the forest weren’t too difficult to follow.”
“You’ve really done it, Valant,” Longchance cooed. “Not only have you won me an island, you’ve delivered to me the most notorious outlaw in all the Shale. It has been a banner week for you. Your reputation is well earned.”
Slinister bowed with a flourish.
Rye glanced at Harmless. Slinister had told the Earl he’d been victorious on Pest.
“And he is alone?” Longchance asked, casting a wary eye to the shadows of the trees.
“He is.” Slinister seemed to hesitate. “Except for her, that is.”
“That’s delightful, Valant,” Longchance said dryly. He drew his horse back as if it might step in something unseemly. “You know how I adore children. Now we’ll need to get rid of her, too.”
Longchance gave Harmless the smuggest of grins. “I told you not long ago that your days were numbered,” he said. “Turns out I was right.”
Harmless didn’t blink or say anything in reply.
“Unchain your little monster, Valant,” Longchance said, turning to Slinister and Spidercreep. “Let’s feed them to it and be done.”
Harmless took a step forward. The soldiers quickly stirred and Longchance drew his long sword from its ornamental sheath at his hip. He pointed it over Harmless’s head, toward Rye.
“One more step and she goes first,” Longchance spat.
“Morningwig,” Harmless said, his tone severe, “you don’t know who you are dealing with. This is no constable. Think of me what you may but this treacherous snake will have your throat before the night is out.”
Slinister opened his mouth in mock offense. “Hurtful words,” he said.
“The lies of a condemned man,” Longchance shot back at Harmless. “I’d expect nothing less from a conniving criminal such as you. Go on, feed him to the beast.”
“In front of his own daughter?” Slinister asked, and Rye thought she heard a tone of disdain in his voice. “I serve at your pleasure, but alas, Spidercreep is just a runt better suited to hunting and tracking than any real destruction. He doesn’t even have eyes or claws.”
“Oh, for the sake of the Shale, I’ll do it myself,” Longchance said, dropping down from his horse. He took two lumbering steps forward, like a crane wading through the shallows, then hesitated. He glanced at Harmless’s blades, then his own sword, and called out, “Soldiers, disarm him.”
“But . . . ,” Slinister said, putting up his hands and qui
ckly stepping between Longchance and Harmless. “Perhaps something bigger than Spidercreep will do the trick.”
Only then did Rye see the ominous shadows emerge from the trees. Her stomach twisted in horror. If she had been able to find her voice, she would have screamed out loud. All around the perimeter, massive gray forms stepped from the forest. In the lantern light, Rye saw the knots of red-orange hair, the misshapen faces pierced with fish hooks and metal bolts. Her nose filled with the stench of the bogs.
The soldiers barely had time to turn and defend themselves. It took only minutes for the Bog Noblins to vanquish every last one of them, leaving just a few terrified horses galloping frantically around the clearing.
31
Revenge of Slinister Varlet
Harmless threw himself on top of Rye to shield her. He cut the bonds at her wrists with a sword and pulled her body close to his own.
Slinister and Hyde anxiously surveyed the carnage around them. They were all surrounded by more Bog Noblins than Rye could count. None of them were as small as Spidercreep, who had wrapped himself in a terrified ball behind his stump. These beasts were thick and hulking, each at least three heads taller than a man. But when Rye saw Slinister’s face, he wore a look of quiet satisfaction.
Longchance stood dumbstruck, his sword dangling limp in his hand.
One of the largest of the Bog Noblins lurched for him, its jaws and long plaited beard slick with the remains of a soldier. Before the beast could take the Earl, a red coil wrapped around Longchance’s neck like a tentacle and pulled him back. It was Slinister’s whip. He put his foot into Longchance’s leg and dropped him to his knees, then stepped between him and the Bog Noblin.
Slinister stood straight and stared up at the Bog Noblin’s hard, malicious eyes.
“Not this one,” he commanded.
The Bog Noblin growled and ducked down, his protruding chin and upturned nose just inches from Slinister’s spiked beard.
“NOT this one,” Slinister commanded again. “I still need him.”
The Bog Noblin glowered, as if waiting for Slinister to back down. He didn’t. Reluctantly, the creature took a step away.
“Slinister,” Harmless called. “What have you done?”
Rye’s eyes flicked around the clearing. The ring of monsters seemed to inch closer. Their shadows now dimmed the lantern lights strung from the trees.
“Only what we should have done long ago, Gray,” Slinister said. “I’ve brought the House of Longchance to its knees. Two-thirds of his forces are lost at sea or prisoners on Pest.”
“What?” Longchance demanded from the ground.
“Hush.” Slinister tightened the whip around his throat and gave him a rough tug that made the Earl gasp. He turned his attention back to Harmless. “Most of the rest are now lying around us. And I have my own army now—not only the Fork-Tongue Charmers, but a legion of beasts. Quite an important development, wouldn’t you say?”
From the trees, chalky, hooded faces appeared, their eye sockets and lips black. Fork-Tongue Charmers masking themselves with ash. The Charmers and Noblins eyed each other uneasily but did not attack.
“What did you promise them?” Harmless asked gravely. “What did it take to get the Bog Noblins to agree to assist you?”
“Not as much as you might expect,” Slinister said with a tight smile. “I promised them the one that their kind sometimes calls the Nightmare. The Painsmith. You haven’t heard those names in a long time but you remember them, I’m certain. I promised them you.”
Rye’s face fell.
“And here you are.” Slinister waved his hand at the Bog Noblins. “This is the clan of the Dreadwater.”
Harmless eyed the Bog Noblins as they circled closer around them. He crouched and pressed Rye tighter behind his arms.
“Now you do have a few options here,” Slinister said conspiratorially. “You can let them take you, but we both know that wouldn’t be your nature. You can stay and fight them, but frankly, look at the numbers. That’s a fight even you know you’ll lose.” He tapped the spiked beard on his chin. “Or you can run. Into the forest and never look back.” He looked at Rye, and she thought she recognized a hint of regret in his eyes. “Take Rye with you, of course. It was never my intention that she become part of this, but the best laid plans are sometimes thwarted by the unwitting. Maybe you can outpace them for a day or even a week.”
Slinister’s lips curled and any sign of regret was now replaced by self-satisfaction.
“But regardless, when I signal the Call for the next Black Moon, you won’t be here to answer it. The High Chieftain failing to answer the Call? That’s unheard of. That’s another important development that all the Luck Uglies will need to discuss.”
And there was the final piece of the puzzle, Rye thought. Slinister had masked himself as a constable to earn the Earl’s trust. He’d convinced Longchance to commission a fleet of warships to sack the Isle of Pest, diverting the Earl’s soldiers from Drowning and using them as pawns in his own game of revenge. But when it became clear that Pest would not fall easily, he sabotaged the fleet to achieve an even greater ambition—the House of Longchance laid crippled at his feet.
And now, finally, with no High Chieftain, Slinister could wrench control of the Luck Uglies for himself.
Slinister extended an open palm toward Harmless and called to the large Bog Noblin that had approached him. “Go on, claim your prize.”
“Wait,” a voice called out.
An ashen-faced Charmer hobbled from among the others at the edge of the forest. Rye bristled at the familiar, pale blue eyes behind the ash.
Bramble paused when he reached Slinister. He was winded and limped noticeably. Harmless regarded him with dark eyes.
“Let me take my niece,” he said to Slinister. “Don’t condemn her to her father’s fate.”
Rye was so furious she thought she might spit on her uncle’s boots. She should have taken her cudgel to his head.
Slinister’s sea-flecked gaze found Rye, then retreated. His face betrayed indecision, as if he was battling against some old, dark turmoil that raged far away.
Had Slinister hoped to spare her all along? Would he have returned to find her on the Isle of Grit himself?
“Go on,” he told Bramble quietly. “Be quick about it, before I change my mind.”
Bramble stepped over to Harmless and looked down at him with cold eyes. Harmless just stared back, and Rye couldn’t tell if he was angry or disappointed.
“Come,” Bramble said, and extended a hand to Rye.
Rye just glared out from behind Harmless’s arms without budging. Harmless tried to push her forward but Rye struggled against him.
“No, I won’t leave you.”
“COME!” Bramble barked, and grabbed her hand roughly. Rye yanked herself free but felt something in her palm. She opened her hand to see what Bramble had given her.
The leather band was strung with runestones like her own. She knew it well. It was a collar.
“Keep it,” Bramble whispered, “to remember him.”
Rye looked to her uncle in confusion.
Dead leaves rustled as a thick, black shape exploded across the clearing. It bounded to the nearest Bog Noblin and lurched at it with such fury that the massive creature dropped to one knee. Rye couldn’t believe her eyes. It was Shady!
But Shady wasn’t alone. Another Gloaming Beast was at his side, springing at the Bog Noblin’s throat, embedding its nails and claws. This Gloaming Beast was the color of smoke. Gristle.
The Bog Noblins suddenly turned on the Fork-Tongue Charmers.
“This is not my doing!” Slinister called out urgently. “We’ve been betrayed!”
But the rest of the Dreadwater were not listening, and the Fork-Tongue Charmers had no choice but to draw their weapons and defend themselves against the Bog Noblins’ wrath.
Bramble extended a hand and pulled Harmless to his feet. He looked around at the chaos. The Gloaming Beasts had q
uickly brought down another Bog Noblin but too many remained. Horses fled madly. The Fork-Tongue Charmers held their own for the time being, but they would not be able to hold off an entire clan.
“The numbers are all wrong,” Bramble said. “Even with the Gloaming Beasts, this one won’t end our way.” He looked to Harmless for an answer.
“Get Riley out of the forest,” Harmless said. “That’s all we can hope for now.”
Rye could hear them speaking, but their words only made her feel even more helpless. She spotted Hyde slowly inching away from a Bog Noblin, his back to her. She charged forward and snagged her cudgel from his belt. He turned quickly. Rye raised the cudgel over her shoulder. She didn’t know whether the blow would be for Hyde or the Bog Noblin, but someone grabbed her arm and pulled her away before she could swing. It was Bramble.
“Bramble, I’m . . .”
“Not now, niece,” he said. Limping, he rushed her toward a horse.
In the confusion, Rye saw Slinister ferociously cut down a Bog Noblin. He escaped to the shelter of the trees, dragging Longchance roughly behind him. Shady and Gristle preoccupied several more, but the rest of the Bog Noblins now bore down on Rye and Bramble. Bramble stopped and turned to protect her, his sword drawn as one rushed at them.
Harmless threw himself across its back, his arms and twin swords wrapped around the beast’s neck. The creature stopped, craned its head, and clamped its jaws down on Harmless’s arm. The sword in Harmless’s bitten hand dropped to the ground. Before the monster could do further damage, Harmless buried his remaining sword home, and rode the beast down as it slumped to the forest floor.
Harmless rolled to the side and stumbled to his feet. Bramble had no time to help him as he sprang to fend off another attack.
Rye’s jaw fell open. The Bog Noblins were too numerous. They were overrun. She saw Harmless look at his arm, hanging limp at his side. He’d been severely injured. His wolflike eyes flashed at the destruction around him.
When his gaze found Rye’s, she gasped. Rye shook her head and mouthed “no.”
Harmless’s eyes were telling her good-bye.