It was as hard a battle as William had ever fought.
Only the knowledge that a single hour could make a difference kept the men cutting the Wood like crazed lumberjacks. Bound with rags, their hands were swollen and bloodied; the skin had long since blistered and worn away. Their provisions were almost gone and they couldn’t drink enough water to stay ahead of their thirst or even to sweat in the intense heat. Exhaustion was taking its toll.
William sat apart from the others, resting and brooding again over the many possibilities of why help had not come from Candlewax Castle. None of the reasons he pondered satisfied him. But he had no more time left to wonder. He rose painfully and returned to his men.
“Robert, sound the retreat. Make sure the injured are accounted for. We are falling back to the castle,” William whispered hoarsely as he clasped his hand on top of the young trumpeter’s shoulder. He had lost his voice the day before and a loud whisper was the best he could do. He could hardly stand to see mirrored in Robert’s eyes the same despair that he felt.
The trumpeter’s blast cut through the smoke and the ever-present roar of the flames. The urgent peals grew fainter and fainter as Robert rode down the line, repeating the same sad refrain. Men shouted names and waited for replies, trying to account for everyone. William’s head dropped to his chest as some received no answer.
They emerged from the smoke, battered and blackened. He could see a tall form bringing up the rear and recognized him as Sir Gavin. William raised his ax in the air and waved it. The dry skin on his face stretched into an unholy smile of false bravado. It was the slowest retreat William had ever witnessed.
The men dragged themselves to their mounts, which were tethered a mile back from the fire line to keep them out of the worst of the smoke. They mounted up and rode in absolute silence. No one feared the spreading of the fire, as the bark of the Candlewax trees was impervious. They just hoped that the fire line they had cut was deep enough to withstand the sea of trodliks pushing against it.
As they plodded back from the fire, William marveled that he could hear his own breathing once again above his ringing ears. His head had been filled with an onslaught of noise for days now.
He hoped that King Stephen would reach them soon. It would be better for the men to know that both groups had retreated at the same time. He didn’t have to wait long. King Stephen, Brine, and the rest of the King’s Guard came straggling in through the smoky haze. The men dismounted and did the best they could to wash the soot from their faces in the brook that ran through the center of the meadow.
William walked from soldier to soldier, nodding his respect, comforting those who grieved, and checking on the injured. Eight more men were burned, but none so badly that they couldn’t ride. Finally, William reached King Stephen. His hands were wrapped in rags and his face was haggard. Brine stood at his side. The farmer and the king could have been mistaken for foot soldiers.
“Your message was a welcome one,” croaked King Stephen. William smiled at the hoarse sound of King Stephen’s voice, so like his own.
“The axes are dull and the saws have lost their tooth,” whispered William, “but the men would work to the death if I would give them leave. A man who lives can fight longer than a dead one, though. We must return to the castle. I only hope it has made a difference.”
“I, too,” said King Stephen.
Brine stepped forward, a sooty, matted Wolfy at his side. “At least I know I’ve been doin’ my best to help Bessie and Clara. I mean Catherine. Blast! I keep gettin’ that wrong.”
William patted his shoulder. “We start back now,” he said.
King Stephen nodded at Sir Gavin. The whole bedraggled group of men mounted up and headed slowly toward Candlewax Castle.
“There is a man in the dungeon who begs an audience with you, my lord,” reported the soldier to Sebastian, who was sitting in Rogard’s old dining hall. Kallik was ensconced in the main castle and until Kallik left for Tabrek, Sebastian would have to be content where he was. He pulled thoughtfully at his beard.
“What’s his name?”
“Conrad, my lord. He said to tell you that he’s changed his mind since King Cyril died. Now he wants to fight for you.”
“King Cyril dead?” Sebastian leapt to his feet. That the object of his loathing was suddenly gone left a surprising vacuum in his heart. He had anticipated watching the king suffer as he witnessed the death of Menard—for Sebastian planned to torture him in front of the king—and the dismantling of the remaining Candlewax army. These were pleasures he had secretly cherished ever since he had made that fateful journey to Tabrek to meet with Kallik. Now Cyril wouldn’t know of Sebastian’s imminent conquest of Catherine. He felt cheated.
For years Sebastian had tried to position himself as the boy’s most important soldier, only to be shunted aside while other men were given prominence—Menard, William, and even young Conrad. His hatred of Cyril had taken quite a long time to build into the fury he had unleashed the day before.
Then Sebastian felt a rush of pride. “Are you sure he’s dead?”
“Yes, my lord. He was the one in the white coat with the scratches on his back. He died last night. The men in the dungeon kept us all awake with their wails and mourning chants. Must have loved him, those soldiers.”
A spark of jealousy rekindled within Sebastian. He could, after all, still despise Cyril even though he was dead. The guard continued. “We dragged out the corpses this morning. They were befouling the dungeon.”
“Corpses? No one reported any corpses to me,” said Sebastian.
“Twelve dead men. We threw them with the others in the open grave.”
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. “Who ordered that? You tossed Cyril’s body in with that heap of rotting flesh? He was a king!” He thought of the mass grave Kallik’s men had dug for the Castle Guards that had been murdered in their sleep the night Kallik had seized power. Kallik had refused to let Sebastian burn the bodies with Candlewax oil, as was their custom. He wanted the dead to stink and putrefy—all the better to subdue the populace, he said. Clouds of carrion birds had descended on the grave to pick the flesh off the bones, starting with the eyes.
Maggots. I hate maggots.
The soldier sneered. “Begging your indulgence m’ lord, but, well, he’s not a king anymore is he, m’ lord? Ain’t that the point?”
“No. No he’s not. In that you are correct.” Sebastian fiddled with the gold chain he had taken from Cyril’s treasury and pictured the king’s body strewn ingloriously amongst the other corpses.
“Send four men to bring Conrad to me,” ordered Sebastian. He hesitated. “Bound.”
The soldier departed. Sebastian paced in deep thought while he waited. Fifteen minutes later they appeared with Conrad between them, his hands tied behind his back. The cut on his cheek had scabbed over. The guards shoved the prisoner to his knees.
“So, you want to be my captain,” Sebastian drawled.
“Yes, Sebastian,” said Conrad, looking at the floor. “When the king died... There is nothing to fight for anymore, is there? You’ve won. We are ready to do your bidding. We want to live.”
“There are others?” asked Sebastian.
“Of course, Sebastian.” Conrad looked at him and quickly looked away.
“What makes you think I care whether you live or die?” Sebastian saw a shade of doubt in Conrad’s eyes. A deadened resolve took its place.
“We know the kingdom, Sebastian. These Tabrekis don’t. You need men who are familiar with the needs of the castle and the kingdom,” said Conrad.
Sebastian pretended to mull this over.
“You shall be my captain, Conrad,” he said.
“Thank you, sir. Thank you. And the men? They are ready to serve you, Sebastian.” Conrad looked up. Sebastian had moved away, hoping to prolong the pain of his captain’s uncertainty.
He took his time, pretending to study a map before him, until he heard Conrad shifting. He turned back. �
�What of Menard? Has he had a change of heart, too?”
“No. The old man would rather die than serve you, Sebastian.”
Sebastian snorted. “He knows I would never trust him. Death in the dungeon is what he deserves. Menard is nothing but a self-serving toady. King Cyril never could see how Menard manipulated him.” He smiled at Conrad. “So you want the rest of the men, do you? You shall have them. But if any of them cross me, it will be you who suffers. I promise you that. Obey or die. That is my standard, Conrad.”
Conrad bowed his head. “yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Sebastian motioned to the guards. They dragged the new captain to his feet. “He is free. Release to him the men from the dungeon, except the old one. He stays.” He addressed Conrad again. “Two hours. Report back to me in two hours. I should like to show Kallik that Candlewax soldiers are not as stiff-necked and idealistic as he thought.” Conrad nodded, turned, and left with the jailor and two guards.
“Princess Catherine is not to know of Cyril’s death,” said Sebastian to the soldiers who remained. “This is my command. Anyone breaking it shall be cast into the pit. Now go and pass the order.”
The soldiers left Sebastian alone in the hall. He sauntered over to the hall mirror, turning his head from side to side to see his face from all angles.
He touched his reflection on the cheek. “A woman could do worse,” he murmured. “Time to make Princess Catherine see things my way.” With a satisfied smirk, Sebastian headed for Rogard’s Chapel
The door opened. Catherine turned and scowled at Sebastian as he strutted into the chapel. She was seated in a carved oak chair, one of four in a small alcove. Light streamed in through stained glass windows that had been built in the time of Rogard, twelve hundred years ago. The chapel’s muted gray stone, oak paneling, and aged, dark pews were the perfect foil for its lively windows. Catherine was bathed in brilliant hues the colors of a rainbow.
The guards shut the door behind him. Sebastian bounced on his toes and looked at her, his head tilted to one side and his eyes narrowed. She does not know how beautiful she is, he realized. He walked around her, staring. Catherine wrinkled her nose as if he smelled bad. We’ll see how long you keep that hoity-toity attitude.
“It will please you to know that Crystallia helped me see where my loyalties lie,” said Sebastian. He pulled out a black velvet pouch and poured his palm full of crystals. Even in the dim light they sparkled. Catherine put her hand to her mouth and turned away in anguish.
“What’s the matter? Your kingdom’s wealth isn’t supposed to touch my hands? Is that it? These crystals won’t be all from Crystallia that my hands touch.” He put the crystals back in the pouch and slid it into a pocket of his tunic. His fingers stole up to Catherine’s face and he forced her to look at him.
“You can still be queen of Candlewax, Catherine. You don’t need that pig-headed boy. Not when you can have a real man.” Sebastian breathed his words into her face, grinning at the disgust he saw in her eyes. The princess looked down to the pommel of his sword, as if she would reach for it.
Sebastian smirked and dropped his hand to the pommel. “But before you can be my queen, you’ve got to save Lackanay,” he said, taking a step back.
“I d-don’t know what you mean,” said Catherine.
“We know all about you, Catherine of the Onyxes. Remember? I saw you cross into Cinna. Only we were expecting you to come back with Spelopokos. You see, Kallik has special plans for the two of you.” Catherine’s cold glare made Sebastian smile.
“Oh, Kallik will let you save Lackanay. Once the Cinnan fairrier cats are caged up and carted off to Tabrek, Kallik is going to amuse us all by feeding his enemies to them.” Sebastian threw back his head and laughed at her expression.
“Oh yes,” said Sebastian. “We’ve already dug the pits that will capture them this side of Cinna Gate. Even now they are being concealed. You will lead the cats into the traps. Watch your step or you will end up in pits with the fairrier cats and that”—he lowered his voice and spoke softly in Catherine’s ear—“my young, fair Catherine, would be a waste.”
Catherine jumped to her feet. “I won’t do it!” She walked away from Sebastian to the other side of the chapel.
He ignored her. “Spelopokos will have a special diet. Kallik is going to starve him and then perhaps he will let him feast on the flesh of kings—your father might do, or Cyril—if you don’t cooperate. That is, if the trodliks don’t get them first.” He started twisting and twirling around the room as if he had an invisible dance partner.
“Then,” he said, “when Spelopokos is nice and full, Kallik will kill him. Slowly. Painfully. He’s wanted a change of clothes for some time now. Tired of having just one fairrier cat skin to wear. Some days he’ll feel like wearing Nepozadan, and some days he’ll feel like wearing Spelopokos, depending on his mood.” Sebastian chuckled.
“I’ll never help you and Kallik,” Catherine said flatly. “Better for Lackanay to perish.”
Sebastian stopped dancing. He approached her slowly and brushed the hair from her face before she jerked away. “Thought you might feel that way.” He came closer. “It is a strange thing, hope. Even though you know it is hopeless, you will believe that there is a way for Cyril to live.”
Catherine began to tremble. “You bastard,” she whispered.
Bored, Sebastian turned on his heel. “You will do as I say. If you bring back Spelopokos and the other fairrier cats, I will exile Cyril. His life will be spared. You will marry me and he will go and live in Alliana and settle down with some Allianan wench. Just bring the cats to Lackanay. Otherwise he will die and you will be responsible for his death.”
Sebastian could not contain his laughter as he left the chapel, calling out over his shoulder, “You leave at dawn.”
Dark clouds pressed down on Candlewax, their underbellies lit with a garish orange glow. Even the moon and stars seemed suffocated by glowing billows of smoke and sparks. Fueled by oil from branches and roots, the jets of flame from cut Candlewax trees burned unquenchably. Far hotter than the flames of an ordinary fire.
The line the men had created was an open wound traversing the Wood. Trodliks pushed against it and retreated in an endless cycle of testing. None had remained in the flame long enough to burst, for given the choice, even the lowliest creature does what it can to avoid death. Not even their lust for food was enough to propel them forward.
After a time the whole mass of trodliks froze as one, and for a few moments the endless gnashing of their teeth ceased. They were cognizant of a sudden great change within Lackanay. At that moment, high in the mountains of Tabrek, a single fairrier cat had been carried on a litter to the cave of his birth. Far away, the great cat Spelopokos lived.
The stillness of the trodliks and their sudden silence was at odds with the raging flames that whipped through the searing hot air. All at once, trodliks began to quake and shiver with tiny vibrations. The movements intensified until they boiled with it.
Then there came a new sound, even more hideous than the constant working of their jaws. With one voice, a high-pitched buzzing cry pulsed in a frantic tempo, louder than the roar of the flames. It was so loud that William, Stephen, and all their men heard it and turned to look with dread behind them. It was so loud that Kallik heard it from Candlewax Castle and Catherine heard it locked in Rogard’s Chapel. It was so loud that it could be heard faintly by the Cinnans at Cinna Fortress and very well by the sharp ears of Zekkarados and his pride.
Then the boiling mass of trodliks moved forward through the burning logs, an unstoppable wave of writhing white. With a horrible hissing and popping, it poured into the inferno, spattering yellow innards onto the flames of Candlewax Wood. Little by little those flames were quenched and the trodliks surged ahead over a bridge of their own lifeless shells.
Trumpets sounded from the parapets. All of the Candlewax king’s colors had been stricken and in their place were Kallik’s orange and black pennants. From t
he parapet Kallik and Sebastian looked down over the vast plain that lay between the castle and the village of Ryeburg. The second-in-command had run up the turret steps as soon as he had been summoned and was still out of breath. I am shoulder to shoulder with the man who will rule all of Lackanay. He alone is my superior.
Kallik held a spyglass to his eye. “The beasties have crossed the fire line. See for yourself, Sebastian. The smoke is clearing away.” Kallik passed the eyeglass to Sebastian, who took it and adjusted it for his own vision.
“We use trodlik dust and water to douse Candlewax trees,” explained Sebastian. “That blasted noise last night must have been the trodliks crossing over.”
“It won’t be long before we see the Candlewax soldiers running back to the castle,” chuckled Kallik. Sebastian laughed with him, until he felt sharp claws digging into his flesh.
“The girl is on her way?”
“Left at dawn, my lord,” answered Sebastian through gritted teeth, not daring to flinch. Kallik released him.
“Let’s hope she doesn’t get there too quickly. It might ruin the fun.” Kallik smiled and placed a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “You will stay at the castle and look after things here while I take to the field. I long for the taste of blood in battle. Still, I will wait until William and the rest of Cyril’s men reach the plain before I attack. I want them to see my colors flying from the castle as they die.”
Kallik put his misshapen hands behind his back and paced. “Send out your soldiers to fight. It will be a good test. I will bring up my men behind them. We’ll see where their loyalties really lie.”
“I was saving them as a gift to you, my lord. I didn’t know that you knew.” Sebastian was alarmed at the speed at which Kallik learned things. “It was going to be a surprise.”
Kallik jabbed him in the chest with the claw of his index finger. “You will soon learn that there are no surprises for me. Your men will have the honor of slaughtering William’s men. If they do not obey, well... what are a mere sixty or seventy men? My soldiers will simply add them to the day’s work.
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