Cobweb was a trusting person. She hated to think that anyone could lie. Surely this poor merchant was telling the truth. Be trusting, Cobweb! she admonished herself. "Tank you," she said with a smile and lowered eyes. "But I'm not g-good with stwong dwinks. Dey m-make me feew siwwy."
Suddenly a voice boomed, making Cobweb start.
"Watering down my drinks?!"
It was the bartender, waddling toward them, cheeks flushed. Cobweb bit her lip. The tavern—the cheapest in Queenpool—was full of slovenly, menacing fellows, and the bartender was the worst among them. His beard was scraggly, his apron stained, and his bare shoulders were as hairy as his head. Cobweb winced, cowering in her chair.
"You think I water down my drinks?" the bartender repeated, slamming his fist against the table, his cheeks flushed. "You don't like 'em, don't buy 'em!"
With that, the bartender lifted Cobweb's drink and downed it.
Yona groaned.
Cobweb watched with wide eyes.
The bartender kept his gaze, fiery, upon Yona. But as Cobweb watched, the fire left his eyes. Like wax melting, the anger melted off the bartender, and became... softness. The bartender blinked, licked his lips, and Cobweb gasped; love filled his eyes!
"Oh... I'm sorry, sweetie," the bartender said to Yona. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. Here, let's kiss and make up."
Yona groaned again, louder this time.
The bartender opened his arms and tried to hug Yona. The merchant squirmed and managed to free himself, knocking back his chair. The bartender was making kissing sounds, reaching out his arms. What's gotten into him? Cobweb wondered, gaping. The tavern's barflies gaped too, rubbing their eyes.
Cobweb understood.
Yona placed a love potion in my drink.
"Stand back!" Yona demanded, but the bartender would not. He tried to hug and kiss Yona again. Cursing, Yona stepped back, knocking over a table. The bartender came after him, eyes full of love, and Yona fled. He ran out the door, the bartender in pursuit, and Cobweb stood frozen. Let him run! she thought. I can't protect him now. Not after what he did, after he tried to enchant me.
She bit her lip, remembering Romy's warning. The demon had been right.
What was going on?
Chapter Sixteen
Bone Hunt
Dry Bones fled town just before his spell died.
The portly bartender chasing him, he raced out the city gates into the forest. He'd have killed the bartender, but he was low on magic; keeping this facade of flesh and hair sucked up more power than he'd expected. He was, after all, a warlock—a master of black magic, an expert of the occult. He could summon demons with the best of them, but spells of disguise, borrowed from other schools of magic, exhausted him.
"Where are you, sweetie?" the bartender was crying out. Dry Bones slipped into the trees surrounding Queenpool. He heard the bartender looking for him, weeping, crunching twigs and leaves. Dry Bones could maintain his spell no longer; he was all out of magic. The disguise flowed off his body like a rain of black sparks. He held out his arms and watched as the skin peeled back, revealing muscles which soon melted, leaving but bleached bones. He felt the flesh melt off the rest of his body, too, and the old chill returned. It was so cold when you were a skeleton.
Baumgartner, who had hid in his pocket, slipped into Dry Bones' ribcage, the snake's favorite perch. There he hissed contentedly, and Dry Bones fed him a dead mouse from another pocket.
"Why do you hide from me?" the bartender cried, but his voice was moving farther away; he was searching among the wrong trees.
Dry Bones sighed. "A warlock shouldn't hide between the trees like a coward, I know, Baumgartner, but I'm tired. Enough magic for a few hours." After casting spells from competing schools of magic, he always needed a while to replenish his reserves.
"Magic is like blood in your body," he'd tell his students. "It gives you life, but every time you use it, you lose that blood. Use enough, and you'll need time to recover. Use too much, you'll die."
"Is that what happened to you?" Neev had asked when he heard this lesson. This had been five years ago, when Neev was just twelve, the youngest apprentice ever admitted to the Coven. "Did you use too much magic, draw so much of this 'blood' until you became a skeleton?"
The other apprentices gasped. A few looked away as if wishing they could disappear, and one student indeed cast an invisibility spell. You never asked Dry Bones about how he became a skeleton. That was an unwritten rule of the Coven—one Neev, a new apprentice, had not yet heard, or perhaps purposefully flaunted.
"Shut up!" hissed the apprentice beside Neev, a black-haired girl with too many earrings. But Dry Bones raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture.
"It's all right, Naya," he said to the girl. "Young Neev has a right to ask. We have no secrets here. We never have secrets when magic is involved. No, Neev. I did not use too much magic. I was, you see... in a fire."
The students leaned forward, gaping, knowing that here was a momentous moment in Coven history. Finally, the mysterious Dry Bones, the High Warlock himself, was opening up! Dry Bones smiled wryly—at least, as much as it was possible for his skull to smile wryly.
"What happened?" Neev whispered, awed.
Your father happened, Dry Bones wanted to say. I killed him for it, and soon I'll kill you and your siblings. But no—not yet. The moment would come in good time.
"A knight burned my grimoire," he said softly. "I was young and foolish. Without thinking, I reached into the fire, and it grabbed me. I'd have died, but I was powerful enough already, powerful enough to defeat death." Dry Bones' bony fists clenched. "I could not stop the fire from taking my flesh, but with magic, my apprentices, I clung to life. Because magic is greater than death. Black magic can tame, enslave, and shape death. Remember that always." He stared at Neev. And remember, too, that wronging a warlock is a terrible mistake. I killed your father, Neev; he was that knight who burned me. And I will destroy all his heirs. That jinx I cursed you with is only the beginning.
He did not speak those last words, of course. When the time was right, just when Neev was happiest, just when he thought death and pain were behind him... he would feel Dry Bones' wrath.
Standing in the forest outside Queenpool, Dry Bones lowered his head, the memories aching. The bartender was gone now, and Dry Bones stepped out of the trees. He stood outside the walls of the city, a dirt road leading north and south. Dry Bones pulled his hood over his head and tightened his cloak around him.
"I know a place where we can recover," he said to Baumgartner. "A place where friends await."
He started to walk, robes rustling. He took deep breaths, the sounds of the city fading behind him, replaced with the rustling of trees and the song of birds.
"Will the bartender suffer a broken heart forever?" he asked Baumgartner and chuckled. "That was funny, wasn't it? I'll get Cobweb to drink the potion yet, don't you worry, and now we have proof it works."
Baumgartner hissed in approval.
Dry Bones sighed. After spending time with Cobweb, he loved her more than ever. He knew women weren't attracted to skinny men—and who was skinnier than a skeleton?—but with the help of the potion, Cobweb would be happy with him.
"We're going to be very happy together, Baumgartner," he said.
The snake hissed again and coughed up some mouse fur.
* * * * *
Scruff raced into the city, panting, heart hammering. He was sweating under his breastplate and felt tempted to discard it for extra speed.
Cobweb is in danger.
If anything happened to her, Scruff would never forgive himself. This merchant—whoever he was—worked for Dry Bones, or was Dry Bones himself cloaked in magic. Scruff had seen what the warlock could do. He had seen Dry Bones' power and wrath. I won't let it happen again, Scruff swore as he ran into Queenpool, kicking up dirt. I let Dry Bones kill my parents. I won't let him harm Cobweb.
Jamie and Neev ran behind him. Romy flew, flapping he
r bat wings, three feet aboveground. All three looked worried, but Scruff thought he felt the most fear. He loved Cobweb. The spiderling was the most pure, kind being he knew. I have to save her.
The Bullies raced through Queenpool's streets. Townfolk scurried aside to let them pass, chickens fluttered, a fruit stall fell over. Still they ran, up cobbled streets, under awnings, across the bridge, and finally Scruff saw the Cantankerous Clam.
He paused outside the sooty tavern, breathing heavily, his chest aching. Fear flooded him, more icy than ever. When he stepped into this tavern, would he find Cobweb dead? Or would she be gone, kidnapped by Dry Bones? Scruff winced and gripped Norman. If I see Dry Bones in there, his new name will be Broken Bones.
"Ready?" he asked the others. They were out of breath, but nodded. Jamie drew her sword, and Romy hefted her pitchfork. Scruff nodded back, then burst into the tavern.
Cobweb sat inside at a table, eating grapes. "Hewwo!" she said and waved.
For a second, Scruff was confused. What? No Dry Bones? Cobweb was okay? Then he breathed in relief, rushed toward her, and hugged her. She hugged him back, her perfume filling his nostrils, and Scruff suddenly felt his face redden. Hugging Cobweb felt so... wonderful and.... Scruff shook his head.
"Where's Yona?" he asked, reluctantly releasing his embrace. He tightened his fist. I'll beat some answers out of that Yona.
"He fwed da t-tavewn," Cobweb said. "He twied to enchant me, and it went wwong."
Cobweb spent a few moments describing her ordeal, while Scruff described how they got lost and learned about the trap. Who was this Yona? Did he work for Dry Bones? Why did he want to kill them but not Cobweb? Nobody knew for sure.
"We must find him," Scruff said. The Bullies all sat around the table, and a serving wench brought them a tray of beer. Romy gleefully reached out for a pint, but Neev slapped her wrist. She pouted.
"I agree," Neev said. "Whoever this merchant is, he holds the answers. We'll track him down."
Cobweb bit her lip and lowered her eyes. "Maybe I shouwd have fowwowed him. I'm sowwy. I was j-just... scawed of him, I g-guess."
Scruff patted her shoulder. "You did the right thing, staying here. It would be dangerous to go after him alone." He gulped some beer, then slammed down his mug. "From now on, new rule. Nobody is alone. Ever. At the very least, we stay in pairs."
Jamie finished her pint and wiped her mouth. "Who anointed you king, Scruff? You're acting like our leader."
Scruff gritted his teeth. His sister annoyed him like nobody else could, not even Romy. "I'm the oldest brother, and you're only fifteen. So you follow my orders, little sister. Nobody goes anywhere alone."
"You're not as old as me," Romy said, longingly eying the beer. "I'm 207. I'm older than everyone here combined. And I have an order: pass me some beer."
Neev gave her a withering look, and Romy stuck her tongue out at him.
Scruff ignored them. He hated their bickering. Every one of them, other than Cobweb, was a pest. How didn't Cobweb go crazy among them? "All right, enough of this," he said, wiping suds off his stubble. "We need to find this Yona, this merchant, or whoever he is. We gotta comb Queenpool like combing for lice in Jamie's hair."
Jamie tried to kick him, but he had expected that, and shifted aside. Her foot hit the chair, and she glared at him. "I only had lice once, and I got them from you, Stinky."
Just then, the tavern door burst open. The slovenly bartender stumbled in, blubbering. His tears flowed down his cheeks and dampened his beard. "He left town," he wept, rushed up to Scruff, and hugged him. "Yona fled Queenpool, leaving me alone."
Scruff raised his eyebrows. He gingerly patted the weeping man's back.
"Well," Neev said, one eyebrow raised, tapping his cheek, "I guess we won't be combing the town anymore, will we?"
Cobweb took the bartender, patted his shoulder, and gently sat him in a chair. Scruff spent a few moments talking to the man, prying for details, but the bartender just kept weeping.
"And you don't know where he was heading?" Scruff kept asking.
The bartender sobbed. "He left town. I don't know where he's heading. I only know he left me."
I won't get anymore info here, Scruff decided. He rose to his feet and began walking toward the door. "If Yona left town, we better follow fast," he said over his shoulder, addressing the other bullies. "We might still catch him."
He stepped outside, and the others followed. They walked down the cobbled street, children scurrying around them and horses splashing through mud. The town seemed to close in around Scruff, the streets too narrow, the shops' awnings like the wings of circling vultures. They hurried down the streets, stepping past taverns, bakeries, barbershops, homes, and churches. Fear lay in Scruff's belly like sour oysters.
The Bullies walked silently, lips tightened, until they reached the edge of Queenpool. Outside the city walls, they hurried over the bridge, Romy shivering at the sight of ducklings in the water below.
Across the bridge, Scruff paused, standing on the country road. Grass moved in the breeze and crickets chirped.
"The road goes north or south," Scruff said, the breeze in his hair. "We don't know where Yona went, so let's split up. Romy, you have a nose like a bloodhound; you take Neev and Jamie and go south. Cobweb, you're a better tracker than any woodsman; you and I will go north. We'll meet back at the Clam tomorrow. Deal?"
"Why am I not surprised you chose to go alone with Cobweb?" Jamie muttered, and Scruff felt his cheeks burn, but luckily nobody else heard his sister. Scruff told himself he'd clobber her later.
Neev, meanwhile, grumbled about being stuck in Romy's group, but Scruff shot him a warning glance, and the young warlock sighed and shut up.
"Remember, we meet back at the Clam!" Scruff said.
The Bullies split up silently, eyes dour. Scruff was surprised to feel a tinge of sadness. As much as his siblings and Romy annoyed him... he liked having them around, he realized. As he watched them walk south, he was surprised to feel vulnerable, even with his freakish size, new breastplate, and mace.
He looked at Cobweb. She stood at his side, shorter than his shoulders, her gossamer dress glowing, her skin purple. She smiled at him, and Scruff felt his face tingle. "Well," he said, his tongue feeling heavy, "let's get going."
They began walking north, leaving Queenpool behind. The road was dangerous, Scruff knew, swarming with moldmen, grobblers, roogs, and insane skeleton warlocks. Everybody he loved was in danger, and he was homeless and outcast. But when Scruff looked at Cobweb again, warmth filled him. He looked at her sapphire eyes, her glowing white hair, her dress woven of gossamer.
He took a deep breath. Maybe the world wasn't so bad after all.
* * * * *
They were not a mile from Queenpool when it started to rain.
Scruff muttered and tightened his cloak around him. Then he looked at Cobweb, who wore nothing but her dress of cobwebs. The poor thing was soaked.
"Here," he said, removed his cloak, and held it out to her. "Wear this."
"Oh, no t-tanks," she said, smiling. Raindrops clung to her eyelashes and flowed down her hair like waterfalls. "We spidewwings wove da wain." She spread out her arms and twirled around, laughing, sparkling with raindrops.
"Lucky spiderlings," Scruff muttered. The rain was heavy in his clothes and seeped under his new armor. Worst of all, it made the way more difficult to track. If Yona had left footprints, the water would efface them.
Oaks, beeches, and birches lined the roadsides, heavy with water. The road was turning into mud so deep, Scruff's boots sank past his heels. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed. Cobweb seemed happy as ever, her footfalls barely sinking into the mud. "All tings of natuwe wove da wain," she said. "Pwants, stweams, and spidewwings."
Scruff found himself rather admiring a wet Cobweb, her dress clinging to her; it made his face feel hot. Once, when he slipped in the mud and bumped against her, accidentally touching her body, he stammered his apologies with a tongue
thicker than the rain. Stupid, stupid, he told himself. Cobweb is a beautiful, dainty creature of magic. You're an oversized, lumbering nobody. It'll never happen, so put it out of that thick skull of yours.
They kept walking, Scruff trudging through the mud, Cobweb walking with a step light as ever. They passed few people on the road; after walking several hours, they met only a knight and his entourage, a wool trader, a group of nuns, and several pilgrims. They asked everyone about Yona, describing the merchant. The knight did not deign to respond, the wooler saw nobody, and only the nuns reported seeing a spindly, hooded figure heading north.
"It's not much," Scruff said to Cobweb, "but it's something. Let's see if we can find this hooded figure."
Cobweb nodded. "I've been fowwowing the twacks of a wone wawkew since Q-Queenpoow; dat he's hooded might mean he's ouw g-guy, twying to hide."
Scruff looked at the muddy road, brow furrowed. "You can really see tracks here?"
Cobweb nodded. "Of couwse. I'm a spidewwing. We'we g-good at dis stuff."
They dared not stop to eat, though Scruff was bone tired. Instead they ate bread, cheese, and pickles as they walked, a sordid and soggy meal. But their haste proved prudent; an hour later, with the sun low in the sky and the rain but a drizzle, they saw a hooded figure ahead. He moved silently through the mud, gangly and cloaked in black. The sight made Scruff shiver.
"Let's sneak up on him," Scruff whispered. The figure was still distant and had not seen them.
"Into da twees," Cobweb whispered back. "We'ww fowwow him off-woad."
Scruff nodded and joined Cobweb, walking a few feet off the road, trees surrounding him. Cobweb moved as quickly, gracefully, and silently as ever, but Scruff snapped every fallen branch, rustled every patch of leaves, and slid in every puddle of mud. Cobweb took his hand and guided him, and Scruff wondered at how her hand was so small and soft, not half the size of his.
After what seemed like ages, they came close to the hooded traveler. When Scruff peeked between the trees, he saw the mysterious figure several yards away.
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