A stallion hurtled toward them, soil flying in small arcs behind his legs. The white hairs of his mane streamed in the wind and obscured the face of the girl on his back. Nabal squinted at her.
“That’s no princess, Counselor. She’s a peasant. Shoot them both down.”
“No.” Black feathers thrashed in the face of an archer who was fitting his bow. “The horse. Only the horse.” The archer stared at the blind bird, bewildered. Nabal stammered.
“How dare you—”
“She is in disguise, my lord,” he cawed wildly. “She can be questioned. She may know the extent of the conspiracy against you.”
Nabal hesitated, his sharp eyes flitting from the girl to his counselor. His rocklike arms shook with anticipation.
“Don’t you dare lie, bird.”
“Keep the girl alive, my lord, and I will question her myself.” Pider’s black wings twitched as the girl and her horse charged into the camp. “You will see that I am right.”
“M’lord, your orders?” called one of the bandits.
“Oy. They’re gettin’ away. By my hat, that horse is flyin’,” said another.
“Bring the horse down, keep the girl alive,” the king ordered. But by the time Nabal made his decision, the horse and the girl had already torn through the camp and were galloping away. The bandits did not have time even to throw a dagger.
“Get on your own horses, you lazy rats,” Nabal bellowed, pulling the mercenaries by their coats and shoving their backs with his axe. Criminals, all of them. And criminals only respected those they feared.
“Ain’t no use, sire,” said one man chewing on a straw. “That horse’ll be halfway to the sea in another half second. I ain’t never seen nothing fly like that ’cept an eagle.”
Nabal hoisted his axe and struck down a wooden support of his tent. The fabric billowed and fell inward, covering the lanterns within. As the fabric charred, then caught fire, Nabal faced his men, smoke curling behind him.
“To arms, men,” he screamed, spittle frothing at the corners of his mouth. “And when the battering ram arrives, take it to the moat. Crash against those castle gates until your backs are broken and your arms have fallen off.”
A sharp whistle brought his large red horse trotting toward him. Nabal mounted the animal in one bound and spurred his steed after the girl.
They pounded toward the castle, the glowing moat growing bigger every second. A streaming white tail and a cloud of dust could be seen before him, and Nabal whipped his horse’s side with all his strength. The red stallion sped faster than he had ever galloped. They were closing the gap.
Then a small black figure fell out of the sky, streaking toward the Glademont girl, and Nabal saw her arms flail. A larger auburn shape shot toward the black one, and the two seemed locked together in midair until the black figure freed itself and took to the sky again.
Counselor Pider?
That was when Nabal saw a blast of thick red light, like lava. It spilled from the sky over the girl and her horse, but the horse, with all his speed, passed under it just in time.
“What on the—” the king sputtered in disbelief. He whipped his horse with the broad side of his axe. “Get there, you worthless animal.”
The girl reached the moat, where swirling golden water rose to meet them. Nabal watched as she extended her arms toward the enchanted water, and an orange fire poured forth. Girl, stallion, and auburn bird soared through a giant cloud of steam.
The king of Atheos pulled his horse to a sudden halt and tumbled onto the lawn. He approached the moat with caution, just out of reach. Through the swirling, rising golden waves, he watched as the brat slipped behind the castle gate, and his counselor disappeared over the outer wall.
Chapter 46
Shaking, Tess searched the sky as she galloped toward Glademont Castle’s outer gates. She couldn’t see where Pider had gone since they crossed the moat.
“Open the gates,” a governor barked from somewhere above. “Lady Tessamine approaches. Open the gates.” Dozens of terriers howled with delight as Jesse slowed his pace. The giant, solid doors of the outer wall were scratched and bruised, but without rupture. One slowly creaked open and Jesse slipped inside, with Wyndeling flitting behind. The owl landed unsteadily on Tess’s arm as the castle servants shut the gate and lowered its massive wrought iron locking bar.
“I was just starting to grow feathers on that shoulder,” complained the owl. Tess could tell she was hiding her shock.
“We are both fortunate to be alive,” she said.
Tess urged Jesse across the courtyard and up the royal staircase to the carved stone castle. A young woman’s head appeared at the grand doors.
“The skies really have been smiling on us lately. Hurry in. Hurry in.”
“Dahly.” Tess tumbled off of Jesse’s back to embrace her sister.
“Come on, come on. It’s not safe to stand out here.” Dahly ushered Tess and her friends through the grand doors, which once were so richly adorned for Tess’s wedding. It felt like a century ago.
“My, you are looking casual.” Dahly stood back to survey Tess in her shepherdess apparel. “But you’ve still got your Canyon cloak.” She pulled Tess’s hood playfully. “Ryon will be so happy to see you.”
“Ryon is here? Thank the skies.”
Dahly nodded.
“My girl.” Tess couldn’t remember the last time she saw her father run, but run he did into the entrance hall of Glademont Castle, rushing to take her face in his hands. “My darling girl,” he said.
“I’m all right, Papa.” Tess kissed his hands. “But I must see the queen. It’s urgent.”
“No, no.” Sir Brock waved a hand. “She won’t see anyone. She rests in the gardens, and we try not to disturb her. It’s General Bud you’ll want to see. And Masters Rootpine and Cherrywater.”
“But—”
Dahly took Tess’s arm and smiled with tired cheeks. “I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you.”
Relenting, Tess rested her forehead against Dahly’s. “I wish you had been with me.” An abrupt clinking of metal on metal interrupted them, and Tess glanced about her.
Glademont Castle had completely transformed since the wedding festival. To her right and left, disheveled servants swept shattered stained glass from the halls. At the far end of the entrance hall, where half a dozen archways led to half a dozen corridors, various noblemen and women brought armfuls of household tools to a set of long tables. There, groups of young men sorted and sharpened the tools.
“My lord.” Wyndeling issued a curt bow from Tess’s shoulder. “Wyndeling the Red of the Seven Wise, at your service. Can you direct me to where my clan is stationed?”
“Seven?” Sir Brock answered. “I thought there were five . . . the Nest Battalion has gathered in the glasshouses. Any of the servants can show you the way.”
Excusing themselves to join up with the Hinge Foresters, Jesse and a rather nettled Wyndeling followed a servant out of the hall.
Soon, Sir Brock, Tess, and Dahly were passing through the chaos into a left-hand corridor. Sir Brock hurried through the cold, wide passage, his short yet steady figure stooped in focus. Tess thought of Linden’s tall, narrow silhouette padding toward Crescent Cave in the dark, and her hand tucked under his arm. What if she had left the shenìl in the cave that morning? Would she have one day walked this corridor as queen, on Linden’s arm?
Sir Brock pivoted to a wooden door, and from there they climbed a winding staircase in the western tower of Glademont Castle. Tess had so many questions, she didn’t know where to begin.
“Papa . . . what has happened here?”
“More in the last week than in my lifetime,” Sir Brock said heavily. “You remember Her Majesty called the advisors, the first night of the festival? We agreed to offer sanctuary to the wedding guests. These walls have
withstood many more winters than enemy onslaughts, still . . .” He brooded over a pile of glass shards that had fallen into the stairwell. “But it was too late. Those bandits were upon us.”
“Papa, Mother, and I all made it to the castle that night,” Dahly said, “but then we were holed in. The next morning, there was a huge encampment of those evil men out on the castle lawns.”
“Everyone in the castle fell on one of two sides: those against the militia and those for it.” Sir Brock swallowed and looked at Tess. “Some of us thought we could still negotiate, try to understand what Atheos wanted . . .” He paused on the stairs to look out a shattered window. “I didn’t even know Master Rootpine had gone for recruits until Atheos attacked. Until those vultures came pouring in through the windows . . .” He shook the memory away, and his round nose and light blue eyes pointed back at Tess. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t defend you at the manor. I . . . I could never have imagined all this.” He kissed her hair, then Dahly’s.
“It isn’t your fault, Papa,” Tess said. “The queen entrusted me with a secret that night, and I betrayed it. I’m the reason Atheos has come.”
“Nonsense.” Sir Brock frowned at Tess reproachfully. “They planned this attack long before that night.” It was obvious to Tess he didn’t want to hear about it. To him, she was still a little girl. What harm could she possibly do? But Tess knew the truth. Her selfishness killed Belle’s mother, and others besides. Who knew how long Pider might have waited to attack, had he not known the exact location of the shenìl?
The Canyons were almost to a Glademont-green door at the top of the tower.
“If we get through this, Tess, you’ll make a wonderful queen.” Sir Brock squeezed Tess’s shoulder.
Swallowing through a dry throat, Tess nodded.
At the top of the western tower, in a round room covered in tapestries, Ryon leaned against a broken window and manipulated a flat stone across his knuckles. Profigliano wiggled his tail feathers on the windowsill.
“I still don’t see how it will be enough.” Nory stood behind a broad desk in the center of the room. Before him towered Osiris, decked in an array of armor. “Even if every man in the castle is wielding something that resembles a weapon,” he continued, “he isn’t properly trained to use it. We’re outnumbered, and eventually those soldiers will cross that moat.”
“Aye,” the bear replied, “but yon miscreants weren’t expecting no fight, until yesterday morn’, young master. They were bested both inside the castle and on the field.”
“We can’t replicate that.” Rette groaned softly as he crossed his feet on the desk and leaned against a bookshelf in his chair.
Without warning, the door swung open. Sir Brock, Dahly, and Tess stepped through. Ryon dropped his stone and sprang from the windowsill.
“Ah.” Osiris’s booming voice filled the room. “The little gem’ll be leading us to vict’ry then? Glad as a rainbow, I be. Mark ye, this brother of yers be gladder.”
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Tessy, quester extraordinaire,” twittered Profigliano.
Ryon grinned as Tess crossed to him.
“Hi, Tess,” he said, taking in her Wallaton skirt and a bloodied cotton shirt.
Ryon knew she was looking at his combat vest and muddied hair. He hoped he looked as tall as he felt after fighting his first battle.
“What’s happened to you?” Tess said with awe.
Ryon glanced at Nory, who winked. He shrugged at Tess with feigned nonchalance. “Well, you know how we joined up with the FOM?”
Tess nodded. “I wouldn’t have believed it, except that I’ve seen them with my own eyes.”
“Well, the Hinge birds joined up with us here at the castle. We attacked the bandits and hounds just as they were trying to get into the castle. The hounds were really pounding on us, even with the governors using their magic from the parapet. Some bandits were getting in through the cellar and killing the servants and everything. . . .”
Ryon noted the panic on Tess’s face.
“Well, I made it out okay. Evening was there with—oh, you haven’t met Evening. Well anyway, Osiris came out and made that moat. That separated us from most of the bandits and hounds, and the Nest Battalion really started thrashing into the raptors. That’s when we got into the castle and Nory and Rette, Reggie and me, we found the bandits in the cellar and finished them off. Atheos fell back after that. I guess you could say Glademont has won her first battle in two hundred or so years.”
Ryon couldn’t help but beam a little as he finished his recounting. After all, he left out the part about there being twenty bandits in the cellar, and only the four of them fighting for Glademont.
“The spell only buys us a little time,” Osiris broke in.
“We’re getting ready for the next battle,” Ryon said. He lifted his foot onto a nearby chair and leaned on his knee as he had seen Nory do before. The impression, he hoped, would be one of seasoned confidence.
Nory stepped around the desk, grinning modestly.
“It seems I underestimated you Canyons,” he said, bowing to Tess and holding out his hand.
Ryon looked to Tess, hoping she would accept the peace offering. She raised an eyebrow, then extended a hand. Ryon smiled at her. Even with a gash in her side and mud on her boots, she looked regal.
“I can only imagine how on the continent you are so well tolerated by Master Cherrywater and the prince, sir,” she said playfully.
“Lady Tessamine.” He kissed her fingers. “What news from the prince?”
“He is close,” Tess said with a flash of anxiety in her eyes. “We met with Currant’s forces and marched from Redfoot to the cliffs. We have been trying to destroy the battering ram. Men and creatures from the valley are battling soldiers at the crossroads now, but . . .” There was a moment’s silence as Nory palmed his forehead thoughtfully. He looked to Sir Brock.
“One hundred and fifty servants, maids, cooks, and footmen, doing their best to arm themselves as we speak. Added to that are the noblemen and their wives, numbering about fifty altogether. Our best assets have been the few dozen governors, some of whom have already fallen.”
“And there are the birds,” Sir Brock reminded them. “We have allies who can defend us in the air.”
Rette leaned forward to press his elbows against the desk and hold the back of his neck. “Linden and Currant have got to pull through.”
“Currant and the rest of them can destroy that battering ram,” Ryon said. “Right, Tess?”
Tess stammered. “I—well, I hope so. We are outnumbered there, too. That’s why I’ve got to get to the queen—”
“Master Rootpine.” A servant appeared at the door.
Nory’s deep brown eyes darted to the man. “What’s happened?”
“They’ve crossed it,” the servant cried shrilly. “The Atheonians have crossed the moat, and they’re at the main gate. Three hundred soldiers at least. Hounds, too. The governors can’t stop them.”
Ryon and Tess rushed to a southern-facing window, and Profigliano hopped from the sill to Ryon’s shoulder. They peered down from the high tower and saw the great battering ram making its way toward the outer wall, surrounded by Atheonian forces. A series of shimmering red ropes enveloped the ram, while a host of hounds crouched behind it. The terriers sent golden spells through the drainage holes in the wall walks, but the battering ram pommeled against the main gates unhampered.
“Alert the Nest Battalion,” Nory said to the servant. “Come on, Cherrywater.” Taking up his quiver and a short sword, Nory flew down the tower stairs, and the rest followed suit.
When Nory and the rest reached the bottom of the tower, Ryon caught familiar faces just outside the door. General Bud, the Colonel, and Evening skidded to a halt in the corridor.
“Master Rootpine,” General Bud barked. “The Atheonians are through the main
gates. They’ll be at the castle doors any moment.”
“But the stairs may delay them some,” Nory said. “To the entrance hall.” They raced toward their last defense.
“Hullo, Evening.” Ryon jogged alongside the fox, who now had a notch missing from his other ear. Ryon pulled out his sling as they went.
“Master Ryon,” the fox said.
“I hope you still have a taste for hound’s blood?”
“Was it not I in the cellar with you?”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Ryon said with a grin. The rush of coming danger washed over him like a cold bath. He could already hear the pounding and shouting of man and beast. He smoothed the straps of his sling in his palm as he ran, flanked by his sisters, father, and flying bondfellow.
Rounding the last corner, Ryon and his companions entered a troubling scene. In the entrance hall, the great wooden doors to the castle groaned and separated along the seam as the Atheonians on the other side thrust the battering ram against them. The noblemen waited closest to peril, brandishing their fire stokers and kitchen knives while watching the doors nervously. Behind them, governors trotted back and forth, barking contradictory orders and generally raising the anxiety level. The Nest Battalion, apparently, had not yet arrived.
Nory grasped Rette’s arm. “We need a barricade. The Atheonians have good archers. As soon as they break through the doors, they’ll send arrows through. Without a barricade, we’re sitting ducks.”
Rette nodded. “General Bud, we need tables, clocks, sofas . . . all of it. Form a semicircle, facing the doors. Quickly.”
“Yes, sir.” General Bud and the Colonel sprinted toward the rest of the governors, barking their orders.
“Where is the queen?” Nory said. His animated face reddened with exhilaration.
“In the royal gardens,” Sir Brock said.
“We mustn’t let them find her. Ryon—” Nory clasped a paternal hand around Ryon’s head.
“You’ll be needing the young one in battle.” Osiris stepped forward, looking determined. “I’ll not be letting yon fools past me, ye can be sure of that.” Ryon couldn’t help but retreat a step. A bloodstained mace dangled from the corner of Osiris’s mouth.
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