Dell Hawks believed that Dooley’s next sentence would be his last as he slowly raised his dagger in the thick shadows, ready to grab him with his free hand and end his life with a swift stroke of the blade. Dooley fumed in that same instant, annoyed that everyone looked upon him as Farnsworth’s subordinate and not as an equal. A split second before Dell Hawks leaned in to grab Dooley and claim his first victim, Dooley spun around while holding the oil lamp high, nearly pushing it into Dell’s face, his mounting anxiety momentarily replaced by a wave of vexed frustration.
“With all due respect, sir, I am not in the employ of Zach–!”
With icy clarity, Dooley saw the raised blade gleaming in the light and flinched, stepping wildly backward and crying out. Dell Hawks had instinctively turned his head at the same time to avoid the glare of the light, sparing Dooley’s life in that moment.
“What are you doing?” Dooley screamed, almost stumbling over his feet. He scrambled to get away from Dell Hawks before backing himself against a tree.
“I was going to make it quick and painless,” Dell replied with annoyance, his eyes fixed on his target quivering beneath a canopy of bony branches. “But you made that impossible by turning around,” he added with feigned disappointment, waving his sharpened blade back and forth in the air.
“What are you saying?” Dooley whispered, though he already knew the answer as he felt his insides freeze up. But before he could utter another word, Dell Hawks stepped forward, his expression vacant and cold. Dooley’s jaw dropped. His limbs shook. But not knowing what else to do, he threw the oil lamp, nearly hitting Dell in the face before running back toward the cart in a full-blown panic. Dell swept to one side just in time to avoid the flying object that landed behind him. It crashed to the ground and went out. But he didn’t miss a beat and pursued Dooley around the cart, his steps slow, easy and confident compared to Dooley’s frantic maneuverings.
“There’s no avoiding this, Dooley,” he said matter-of-factly, staring at his intended victim who stood on the opposite side of the cart in the dull light of the remaining oil lamp. “I’m going to reach you sooner or later. You know that, don’t you?”
“Keep away from me!” Dooley feebly ordered, taking a series of cautious steps alongside the cart and moving closer to the horse every time Dell Hawks took a step in the opposite direction toward the back of the cart. “Why are you even doing this?”
Dell chuckled at the naïve comment. “You mean you still haven’t figured it out?” He paused near the back corner of the cart. “You’re a liability to your boss. An unpredictable risk he can no longer tolerate.” Dooley, his face tinted in the glow of the remaining oil lamp, stared at his pursuer in confusion. Dell shook his head in grim amusement. “I’ll say this as simply as possible, Dooley. Zachary Farnsworth hired me to kill three people, not two. You’re the third victim on my list.”
Dooley absorbed the words like a slap to the face, looking at Dell Hawks in disbelief. Yet a part of him at last began to absorb the reality, needing only a moment to allow the revelation to fully sink in.
“Zachary wants to have me killed? Wants to have me killed?” Dooley turned his head at a slight angle, his eyes still fixed on Dell Hawks. “Me?”
Dell shrugged. “Can you blame him? I don’t know all the particulars about what’s going on around here, but apparently you do, and I’m guessing it’s not a pleasant story. And judging by your fretful manner on the way over here, I’m also guessing that you’re not one to be trusted for long with a secret. Apparently Farnsworth believes that, too.” He took another step around the corner of the cart and now stood directly in back, resting the tip of his dagger on one of the wooden floor planks. Dell, his eyes locked upon Dooley standing near the horse at the opposite end, didn’t take notice of the pile of tattered blankets strewn about the cart amid the murky shadows. “That’s why he included you in the job when he hired me. Understand?”
Dooley stammered in the darkness, trying to come up with a response to buy himself more time while simultaneously attempting to make sense of Farnsworth’s treachery. At last he blurted out the only words that came suddenly to his frazzled mind. “I’ll pay you more money to kill him instead! Deal?”
Dell Hawks bit the side of his cheek to keep from laughing. “Hmmm… Interesting proposition,” he said, caressing his whiskers as if giving the suggestion some serious thought. He casually moved to the other back corner of the cart and now saw Dooley directly ahead in his line of vision. Dooley still stood by the horse in the pale light as if frozen in place, breathing heavily like a tired rabbit taking a much needed break in mid chase, knowing his next mad dash from his dogged pursuer might be his last. “Why don’t we sit down and talk about it?” Dell continued, making an obvious display of placing his knife back in its sheath. “I’m not averse to making a bigger profit out of this deal.”
“Really?” he asked with childlike hopefulness.
“Really,” Dell replied, taking another slow step alongside the cart in Dooley’s direction, oblivious to the subtle movement of the blanket pile among the shadows. “So, what are my services worth to you?” he said, drawing closer to the light, a faint smile upon his lips. “What can you offer me to murder Farnsworth instead of you?”
Dooley adjusted his hat and scratched the back of his head, hemming and hawing before speaking. “Well, I was thinking that maybe…” As he hypnotically observed Dell inching one step closer, his heart beat faster. He noted the same vacant expression in Dell’s eyes as from their first encounter. The fog lifted from his mind. This man was not interested in a deal and intended to kill him no matter what. Dooley turned, finding his footing again and extricating himself from his deer-like trance. He scrambled around to the other side of the horse, keeping Dell Hawks opposite him. “You don’t want to deal with me! You have no intention to!”
Dell scoffed as he stopped and leaned against the horse, gazing at his prey across the saddle. “You couldn’t afford me.” He pulled out his dagger, eyeing Dooley as he slowly inhaled the cold swamp air. “But that doesn’t matter. And do you know why?”
Dooley swallowed nervously, feeling a burning sensation in the pit of his stomach. “Why?”
“Because I’m ending this now!” Dell dropped down and dove beneath the horse’s underside, grabbing one of Dooley’s legs and nearly throwing him off balance.
“No!” Dooley yelped, kicking and pulling away as hard as he could so he wouldn’t fall down, flailing like a swimmer drowning in a lake. He kicked Dell square in the face with the boot of his free leg. “Get off me!”
Dell grunted as a searing pain shot through his skull, releasing Dooley’s leg as he boiled over with white-hot rage. “You’re dead now!” he shouted, springing to his feet and slicing his knife through the shadows. Dell Hawks bolted after Dooley who had ran to the back of the horse cart. “You’ll wish I had killed you earlier after I get through with you now!”
“Get away from me or I’ll throw the rest of your money in the swamp!” Dooley cried, his hand slapping the back of the cart and catching a splinter as he raced around it to the other side, trying to keep his pursuer at bay. But the hired assassin was quickly gaining ground. Dooley thought he might have to make a run for it through the dark woods if he was ever going to survive the night.
“I don’t care about the money now!” Dell sputtered as he circled around the rear of the cart a second time, slowing down just enough to veer past the first corner. “I just want you dead! Do you hear me–dead–you little–!”
In the next instant, Dell Hawks cried out in agony and lurched backward as a searing pain shot up through his abdomen, his nerve endings on fire and nearly paralyzing him as he struggled to take a breath. At that same moment, Lewis leaped off the back of the cart and planted his feet on the ground, a blanket dropping from his shoulders. He gripped a piece of maple wood that he had rammed into Dell Hawk’s body, stopping him cold. Lewis raised his arms, wielding the stick of firewood like a deadly weapon in fr
ont of Dell’s hunched figure. Katherine remained standing upon the cart, similarly armed and watching Lewis’ every move with wondrous pride.
“Drop the knife!” he ordered, standing a few steps away from Dell who stood hunched over, moaning in pain and gasping for breath as he tried to speak.
“Who–? Who–?” Those were the only words Dell could utter as he attempted to stand up straight and catch a full breath.
But before Lewis could respond or take another step closer, a harrowing scream ripped through the gloomy night. Dooley Kramer barreled toward Dell Hawks from behind in a full sprint, crying out furiously, his eyes bulging and his face contorted. Seeing his enemy momentarily incapacitated, he plowed his body straight into Dell Hawks, shoving him in the back with the full force of his weight just as Dell was beginning to recover from Lewis’ strike.
“Try to kill me, will you?” Dooley shouted, nearly pushing Dell off his feet and sending him sailing past Lewis and staggering headfirst into a thicket of trees by the edge of the water. Dell Hawks bellowed out in pain as he tumbled to the ground among piles of decaying undergrowth. He grunted hard when he hit the dirt and tree roots, lying there, silent and unmoving, as Lewis and Katherine looked on in stunned disbelief. Dooley bent over with his hands on his knees, the last ounce of strength having left him, gasping for breath as droplets of cold sweat dripped from his forehead.
“Lewis, are you all right?” Katherine anxiously asked from atop the cart.
“I’m fine,” he replied, offering her a helping hand down. Katherine hugged him briefly, but then Lewis stepped protectively in front of her in case Dell Hawks should make a run for them again. But as there was no movement from the trees in the next few moments, he began to think that the man was too tired to move or perhaps badly injured. “Stay here, Katherine, while I take a look.”
“Wait! Let me get the lamp from the cart,” she replied, hurrying around to unhook the remaining fixture.
Dooley looked up in the gloom as she did so, still out of breath. “Katherine Durant? How did you…?” He bent down again and breathed deeply, not sure if he was imagining other voices or was perhaps caught in an unending nightmare.
“Yes, you heard right, Dooley,” Lewis replied. “Katherine is here–and lucky for your sorry self that she is!”
Katherine hurried back with the oil lamp, shedding light upon their surroundings. Dooley slowly stood up, appearing haggard, frightened and hatless as he gazed upon his unlooked-for rescuers in disbelief. Katherine and Lewis stared back with pity and shame.
“How’d you get here?” he whispered, his breath rising to the treetops. “Why are you here?”
“It’s a long story, Dooley, part of which you’ll have to tell us,” Katherine said.
“If you know what’s good for you,” Lewis added, raising the piece of maple wood with a threatening gleam in his eyes.
“Fine! I’ll tell you everything,” Dooley replied, still panting. “After what happened here tonight, I don’t care anymore.”
“You mean after you found out that Zachary Farnsworth is neither your friend nor protector,” Katherine coldly remarked.
Dooley nodded. “That, too.”
“First let’s check on him,” Lewis said, indicating the spot where Dell Hawks had disappeared into the trees.
Dooley agreed, not fully convinced that that particular threat had been eliminated. “There’s another lamp over here. If it’s not damaged, we could use the extra light.”
Dooley walked toward the front of the horse cart with Lewis and Katherine closely following, neither of them trusting him out of their sight. When Dooley found the other oil lamp, banged up but still usable, he relit it using a small twig and the flame from Katherine’s lamp. With the added illumination, he found his hat lying on the ground and popped it on his head. They returned to the spot where Dell Hawks had fallen amid the undergrowth and found him lying facedown and motionless, his hands planted beneath him as if he had been trying to soften his fall.
“Get up!” Dooley shouted, kicking the bottom of Dell’s boot. He glanced at Lewis. “I don’t know his name, but Farnsworth hired him through some of his questionable connections.”
With growing impatience, Lewis bent down and rolled the body over, drawing gasps of disgusted surprise from the others. Dell Hawks stared blankly at the sky with open eyes, his cold, right fingers still gripping the handle of his dagger, the blade of which lay plunged through his blood-soaked coat and lodged firmly in his chest. Katherine looked away as Dooley breathed a silent sigh of relief.
“I guess you won’t have to worry about him anymore,” Lewis said coolly, casting an eye upon Dooley.
“Apparently not.”
“But you still have a lot to answer for.” Lewis scowled with disdain before prying Dell’s fingers from the dagger and removing it as Dooley looked on with horror. He cleaned the blood from the knife by running the blade over the weeds a few times and then wiping it off using the edge of Dell’s coat. When Lewis stood up, the knife gleamed in the lamp light. “And you’ll provide those answers to Katherine and me right now if you know what’s good for you.”
Dooley nodded nervously, taking a step back. “Can we at least get away from that?” he asked, pointing to the dead body.
“I agree,” Katherine said, leading them to the cart where she and Dooley set the lamps on the back floorboards. “Now, Dooley, it’s time for us to ask the questions and for you to answer them. Keep in mind that we just saved your life. And from what Lewis and I heard of your conversation with that dead man, you can’t go home again and show your face to your friend, Zachary Farnsworth, if you know what’s good for you.”
Dooley turned his head and spit. “He’s no friend of mine!”
“Agreed,” Lewis said. “Now tell us why you’re here.”
Dooley gazed at the young couple, awed by their bravery and intrigued by their presence. “I might ask you the same question.”
“We followed you!” Katherine snapped. “We know you and Farnsworth are connected to Adelaide Cooper’s disappearance, so don’t look surprised. I was given information about that from one of Caldurian’s Island soldiers who had learned about your late-night journeys outside of Kanesbury during the occupation.” Dooley tried to conceal his stunned amazement, but was unable to do so. “We know more than you think, Dooley. So you can give us the rest of the facts here, or we’ll take you to Constable Brindle right now and you can explain yourself in front of the whole village.”
“Don’t make us prove how serious we are,” Lewis said, displaying the knife. “Katherine, I and a lot of others are fed up with people like you worming yourselves into our lives for your own profit. Now it’s time to pay up.”
Dooley gazed upon them, realizing he owed them his life and recognizing that he was backed into a corner. With a helpless sigh, he slumped his shoulders, knowing he was at the end of his rope.
“Well, Dooley?” Katherine asked impatiently.
“All right! All right! I’ll tell you everything,” he sputtered, releasing a stream of air through his lips. “But keep in mind that this scheme wasn’t all fine wine and roasted pheasant for me either!”
CHAPTER 81
The Confession
Dooley ripped off his hat and flung it to the ground. He paced inside the circle of pale light like a caged animal, frantically combing both hands through his mop of dirty blond hair. When he stopped and faced Katherine and Lewis, his dark eyes were fixed hard upon them, his thin, triangular face taut with bitter frustration.
“I should never have stolen the key from that stupid bird!” he groused, his words punctuated by a long sigh and more stubborn silence as he began to pace again.
“What key?” Katherine inquired with a touch of compassion, sensing that Dooley would tell her everything if she could only pry the first few words out of him. “And what about this bird you speak of? I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I,” Lewis said, holding Dell Hawks’ knife at his
side. “We’re running out of patience, so talk to us.”
Dooley turned to his rescuers, taking an angry step forward as he slapped his arms to his side. “The key to the Spirit Box. That’s what I’m talking about! I stole it from that eagle–the wizard’s eagle–twenty years ago.” He took a deep breath, his face flushed and sweaty. “I was ten years old and didn’t know any better. I hit– I hit the bird with two stones. The key dropped out of its beak and the eagle flew away. I could tell it was badly injured.” Dooley cast his eyes to the ground in shame. “I held onto the key ever since, well, up until a few months ago.”
Katherine and Lewis looked on in amazement. Though neither had yet been born during that tumultuous time in Kanesbury, both were well versed in the particulars of the Enâri invasion twenty years ago and Caldurian’s arrest and expulsion from Arrondale. Katherine had been regaled with stories by her Uncle Otto who had witnessed the events firsthand, having stood eye to eye with Caldurian after the wizard had been apprehended by King Justin’s troops.
“My uncle told me about Caldurian’s eagle, Xavier. The bird had swooped down and stolen the key from his hand after King Justin turned it over to him with the Spirit Box,” she recalled. “Though my uncle sent the box to the Blue Citadel for safekeeping years later, no one ever knew what became of the key.”
“That’s because I had it,” Dooley confessed. “I kept it secret for over fifteen years until…”
Lewis looked on with suspicion. “Until what?”
Dooley frowned. “Until Zachary Farnsworth discovered what I possessed–or at least suspected what I possessed–and concocted a plan to use it for his advantage.” He told them how Farnsworth had befriended him about five years ago after first seeing him with the key. Up until that time, the two men had been neighbors who were merely cordial to one another in passing, keeping their business and personal lives to themselves. Only after a night of drinking together at the Iron Kettle Tavern did Dooley fully reveal to Farnsworth the existence of the key and how it had come into his possession. “Once Zachary knew the truth, he held it over me. He let it be known in so many words that it would be terrible if the authorities found out that I stole the key. Or worse yet, if Caldurian somehow discovered that I had wounded his eagle in the process.”
Nicholas Raven and the Wizards' Web (The Complete Epic Fantasy) Page 128