Candlewax
Page 37
There was no mistaking the intent in his voice as he said, “Take me to Sebastian.”
Sebastian’s view from the parapet had left no doubt that the volleys of arrows came from the castle. At first he had thought it was a few of the King’s Guard who had somehow managed to escape. But after Kallik’s third horse had gone down, his suspicions turned to conviction. Cyril lives.
He looked around and counted the guards attending him on the parapet. Only six. Kallik had left him with about three hundred, and the rest of them were scattered throughout the castle. The dregs, no doubt. He hadn’t been impressed with either the discipline in Kallik’s ranks or their training.
He watched, enthralled, as the trodliks poured over the hill like ants. Fascination soon turned to panic when Kallik and his men broke rank and fled. He’s deserting me! Kallik is leaving me to the trodliks!
Sebastian paced. His palms were sweaty. He wiped them on his tunic and unconsciously fingered the dagger in his belt, thinking how Cyril knew the hidden passages of the castle better than anyone. He’ll come for me. I know he will. If only I still had Catherine, I could bargain with him. Sebastian started plucking hairs out of his beard. Suddenly he remembered something.
“Bring me the dark-haired girl! The one we have been keeping locked up.”
“Yes, Lord Sebastian,” answered a soldier with a large square face.
Within minutes the guards had hauled the girl up the steps to the parapet. The guard with the square face stared stupidly at her, as if moonstruck. Fool.
The girl was pale, her hair falling in tangled strands over her shoulders. She still wore the Cinnan garb she had on when they had captured her with the others. She blinked in the sunlight.
“You might as well take a look, girl. Bethy? Isn’t that your name?”
“Bessie,” she whispered. Then she cleared her throat and spoke again, louder this time. “Bessie.”
“Well, Bessie, come then.” Sebastian beckoned her with a cruel smile, his arm outstretched. “Come see the pitiful remains of Cyril’s men as they run for their lives.”
Bessie crept toward the edge of the parapet, her eyes on Sebastian, until the great plain came into view before her. Then she gasped. Sebastian followed her gaze to the blanket of trodliks devouring the slain men and horses on the battlefield. Foot soldiers and horsemen were running for their lives. He smiled, feeling a quiver of satisfaction. I hope William and Conrad are in that mess.
Sebastian pirouetted, arms out, palms turned up. “Say good-bye to this world, Bessie! Unless Catherine finishes her quest soon, we will all perish. You might as well enjoy your last minutes of life.”
“Catherine will save us. I know she will!” Bessie grew bolder, sounding angry now. The trodliks seemed to roll forward, picking up speed as the last men crossed into the castle yard and the bridge began to rise. Sebastian laughed.
“’Catherine will save us. I know she will’,” he mimicked. “Do you see her anywhere? I don’t. No princess and no fairrier cats. She’s failed, Bessie. And we are doomed.” His head lolled to the side. Then the moat burst into a tower of flame all around, making both of them jump back. The sound of the searing flames obliterated all other noise.
The roar was subsiding. The moat still burned fiercely, but the flames were now only about fifteen feet high. Through the smoke Sebastian could see that the trodliks had stopped. His shoulders sagged in relief as he watched them quiver with impatience. Then the rhythmic, high-pitched pulsing began and his knees crumpled.
An indignant snort sounded behind him. Sebastian twisted to see Bessie, hands on her hips. “You’re nothin’ but a traitor and a coward,” she pronounced in a practical voice.
“You don’t understand. They’re coming to get me. They will eat me alive. The trodliks...” Sebastian mumbled.
“They probably eat dung too,” Bessie retorted. The guard with the square face smirked and looked at the girl with admiration. Sebastian suddenly felt rage surge through his veins and he jumped to his feet.
“I’ll not be the first to die, wench. I promise you that.” He grasped Bessie’s elbow before she could pull away and twisted it behind her back. Bessie screamed. Now look who’s afraid. The guard with the square face took a step in his direction and then stopped when Sebastian gave him a murderous look. Sebastian dug his fingers into the girl’s flesh, and drew her closer to the edge of the parapet.
“Let her go, Sebastian.” The voice sent chills down Sebastian’s spine. He stopped and turned.
Cyril stood in the doorway to the rooftop, a crossbow aimed directly at him. Next to Cyril, Menard was trying to catch his breath. Sebastian’s guards on the parapet looked on without raising a weapon, obviously confused. Standing to Cyril’s side was the man he recognized as Kallik’s bucktoothed spy, Warren. The spy’s eyes shifted left and right, looking for some advantage. He might help me, Sebastian thought.
The pulsing of the trodliks was getting louder. A great hissing sound came from the burning moat. The creatures were jumping into the flames.
Sebastian pulled Bessie in front of him and put the point of his dagger to her neck. “Put your weapons down or I’ll cut her throat,” he snarled.
Cyril lowered the crossbow to the ground and Warren kicked it away, looking delighted at the turn of events. Kallik’s other men drew their weapons, doubly fierce for their tardiness. Menard brought his sword to the ground and stood up, eyeing Sebastian with a look of disgust.
“I’m going to enjoy killing this girl,” hissed Sebastian. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the square-faced soldier look quickly at Bessie in shocked dismay, his mouth open. Warren was grinning.
“If there is anything decent left in you, Sebastian, let her go! Be your father’s son!” shouted Cyril.
“You should know me better than that by now, Cyril. Besides, I wouldn’t want to miss this last little bit of pleasure before we all die!” Sebastian thrust Bessie closer to the edge.
Sebastian’s laugh was cut short by a fierce shout.
All eyes turned to the square-faced soldier, who had stepped forward, fists clenched. “Don’t you do it!” he bellowed, glaring at Sebastian. “Kallik will want her as a spoil of war! He told me so! She’s a beauty. A real princess!”
“Princess? Surely you can’t be serious. This village wench is no princess. Kallik has no interest in her, I assure you.”
“Bessie!” cried Cyril, his eyes full of helpless pain. Sebastian relished the look, backing up to the stone wall, and dragging Bessie in front of him as a shield. Smoke billowed around them, clearing as the trodliks quenched the moat fire. Their pulsing had stopped, supplanted again by dreadful gnashing sounds.
“They are hungry, Bessie. Just look at them!” Sebastian bent her roughly over the wall, his hand on the back of her neck. He fed off of her terror. “They are little miracles, aren’t they? Little legends! And they are waiting for you.” Bessie twisted her head, shrieking in horror at the writhing mass below them.
“Don’t do it, I tell you! LET HER GO, SEBASTIAN!” the squarefaced man yelled. His eyes were glued to Bessie.
Everyone held their breath as Sebastian hesitated. “Who are you, anyway?” he asked, annoyed. His question was met with an uncertain shuffling of feet.
“My name be Jessup,” he finally blurted, straightening his shoulders.
“Well, Jessup, my simple fellow, you apparently need to be shown your place. I rule Candlewax now.” Sebastian lifted Bessie off her feet and pushed her, struggling, to the parapet’s edge.
For one long, terrible moment, she teetered there, screaming. Then Jessup lunged forward with a howl of rage, slamming Sebastian into the rough stone hard enough to break his ribs.
Bessie began to fall.
The wind whipped Bessie’s scream from her lips as she went over the edge. Jessup spun away from Sebastian long enough to grab her collar and yank her back to safety.
He held her tightly against him, smiling with relief and awe that he had succeeded. Bessi
e’s eyes widened as she gazed up at him.
“Get back, princess,” Jessup murmured to her gently. She obeyed, stumbling as she moved toward Cyril.
“How sweet,” said Sebastian sarcastically.
Jessup turned to face him.
“You’ll be sorry you ever crossed me, you Tabrekian simpleton,” hissed Sebastian, clutching his side. He staggered against the wall, jabbing at Jessup with his dagger. Jessup dodged with a laugh and brought out his own blade, no less than three times the size of Sebastian’s. Sebastian gulped.
Warren wrested a spear from one of the guards and held it back, ready to throw. “Not a move, Jessup, or I’ll run you through,” he said, his voice as cold as a gravestone. “Kallik told me to keep an eye on you.”
Jessup did not look away from Sebastian. “Warren, you’re Tabrekian. You heard this man insult me. Kallik doesn’t need his kind.” He tossed his knife from hand to hand and grinned at Sebastian. Then he dodged another jab from Sebastian and swung the blade toward his gut.
Warren threw the spear straight into Jessup’s belly.
Jessup looked down, incomprehension written on his face. His knife clattered to the stone. He turned his gaze to Bessie, who had covered her mouth in horror. Then he lurched forward, clutching the spear. Sebastian sneered and began to limp toward Bessie. I’ll get her yet.
Jessup emitted a bloody growl. He rushed at Sebastian and threw him toward the brink of the parapet. Tiny flecks of Jessup’s blood hit him in the face and Sebastian clutched at the spear to keep himself from tottering backward. He began to pull himself to safety.
With one last look at Bessie, Jessup heaved himself forward over the edge, taking Sebastian with him.
A single cry tore through the air. Sebastian was falling backward and that man with the square face was smiling at him as they plummeted. Sebastian felt time slow. He could see the dark-haired wench staring in horror from the top of the castle. There was nothing but the sound of his own scream in his ears. His life passed before him—his father’s face, Cyril’s—all the important moments of his existence. Still he fell. Drops of blood were suspended in mid-air between Kallik’s soldier and him. The fall will kill me, he thought in relief, noticing how the afternoon sunlight had painted the wisps of cloud overhead a yellowish pink. The top of the parapet was getting smaller and smaller. Soon. The soldier’s eyes were closed in death, a peaceful expression on his face. Sebastian felt envy. His back suddenly plunged into the spongy, soft mass of trodliks that had filled the moat. Sebastian bounced and then settled into the squirming bed of trodliks. He felt them with every inch of his body, biting his legs, his back, his arms. The pain was excruciating. The sky disappeared as the trodliks smothered his face. With trodlik-covered hands, he beat them away, trying to save his eyes. They ate his eyes and he could not see. Trodliks crawled into his mouth and he reflexively bit down on them and his tongue. He felt one wriggle down his throat and he could not breath. The last thing he heard with what remained of his ears was the sound of the trodliks eating his flesh.
* * *
Cyril and Bessie and Menard stood frozen in place. A movement turned their attention toward the stairs. Warren was reaching for the wall behind him as if his legs might soon refuse to support him. His long, bony fingers trembled as he groped the stone, searching for the opening of the stairwell. He stepped sideways, his eyes darting between Menard and Cyril.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Catherine and Zekkarados stepped through the door. Warren gasped and shrank back.
“Catherine!” said Cyril. His battered face lit up.
“I KNEW IT!” shouted Bessie.
Dozens of fairrier cats streamed around Catherine onto the parapet. Warren screamed and pressed himself into the wall. Menard reached down and reclaimed his sword, brandishing it at the rest of Kallik’s muted soldiers. They dropped their weapons in a clatter and huddled together with Warren.
“Uh, Catherine?” Menard had turned his head to look down at the moat. He pointed. “The trodliks are climbing the walls.”
Catherine ran to the edge of the parapet and looked down with trepidation. As she feared, Trodliks were clinging to the walls like vines and the moat was completely filled with them. She grabbed the amulet.
“Zekkarados?”
Zekkarados moved swiftly to her side. Soon fairrier cats lined the parapet, looking out at the sea of white below them. Their eyes were blazing yellow. Below she could hear the screams of the villagers in the courtyard as the trodliks began to spill over the walls. The unmistakable sound of Wolfy’s bellowing bark rose above the din and Catherine drew in a breath.
“They are not stopping! I thought surely if your pride were this close, they would stop,” she said.
“There must be a way, Catherine. The prophecy of Elsath cannot be wrong,” said Zekkarados.
“Do something, Catherine!” Menard yelled. He stood next to the fairrier cats, Bessie behind him. Horror filled their faces as they watched the chaos in the bailey.
“They’re getting closer!” screamed Bessie.
A quieter voice reached her ears. “You can do it, Catherine,” urged Cyril.
Catherine choked back the bile of terror that had risen in her throat. The silver of the pendant grew warm against her thumb and it felt as if she were once again fused with the metal. Mercifully, the noise of the trodliks’ jaws and the screams of the villagers faded away. The onyx stones changed from black to a glowing, opalescent green. Catherine took heart at the sight of it, wondering at the change in its appearance.
“Catherine.” It was the voice of a fairrier cat, but it was not Zekkarados.
“Pokos?” she asked aloud, her heart racing. With the break in her concentration the din around her returned. In determination she squeezed her eyelids shut and pushed away the onslaught of her senses. It wasn’t her imagination; she felt Pokos with her, fused to her consciousness just as her thumb was fused to the pendant.
“Pokos, you’re alive!”
“Catherine—Zekkarados and the others, they must growl. You must see the nothingness of the trodliks, or they will not stop. Time is short. Tell them now.”
“Yes, Pokos. But how—”
“Quor and the others have succeeded. I have reached my birthplace. When I am in the cave and you are holding the pendant, I can hear your thoughts and you can hear me, no matter how far apart we are. Tell them to growl, Catherine!”
Catherine felt something land on her foot. She opened her eyes and saw a trodlik scurry past her. Cyril jumped on it. Bessie let out a piercing scream and pointed at the trodliks crawling toward them. Gripping the pendant, Catherine thought with all her might, “You must growl!”
Zekkarados met her eyes and nodded. “Stand behind us, Catherine,” he said.
“Move back,” Catherine shouted to the others as she stepped away from Zekkarados and his pride.
The fairrier cats let loose a deafening ensemble of growls that knocked all of the men and women to their hands and knees. She lost her hold on the pendant. The stones of the parapet shook. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Warren slide through the door to the tower stairs and disappear.
“They’re still coming, Catherine!” shouted Cyril.
Catherine stood slowly and faced the trodliks. They were starting to pour over the parapet. She grabbed the amulet. How can I see the nothingness of something so real? The pendant was instantly warm.
“Do it, Catherine,” said Pokos. “You are ready.”
She closed her eyes.
I am Catherine of the Amulet. Her internal voice was still and small, but she felt the silver back of the pendant grow even warmer. I AM THE SCION OF ELSATH. The Ancient Onyxes had begun to amplify her thoughts unlike anything she had ever experienced before. She continued. I AM ABLE AND READY TO SAVE LACKANAY. Catherine smiled at the power of that statement. All around her the deafening growls of fairrier cats sent out vibrations, but she felt certain that her thoughts were even louder.
“Get your focus back!” urged Pokos.
“It’s not that simple!”
“You won’t get anywhere stomping on trodliks, Catherine. Let me help you.” With that, Pokos growled and Catherine felt a boost of courage, as if she herself were growling. Fortified, she forced her eyes shut. Once again she felt lifted into the air, but this time she stuck to her task.
I AM NOT AFRAID, AND LACKANAY NEED NOT FEAR. Confidence surged through her once more. There wasn’t room in her heart for fear. Something much bigger had taken its place. A second passed before she was conscious of what it was. Love.
NOTHING. THERE IS NOTHING THERE. NO TRODLIKS. A great warmth enveloped her.
“That’s it! Keep going,” came Pokos’s voice again.
WE ARE SAFE. AN EDICT HAS BEEN ISSUED. THERE ARE NO TRODLIKS. A gust of wind encircled her, lifting her hair. The gust became a gale that poured from her, rushing past all of them. The amulet pulled on her neck and she struggled to hold it. Blinding light pierced through her eyelids. Catherine wondered desperately if she would be swept away. I will finish this, even if it is the end of me.
“GRRRRRRRRAAAAWWWRRR!” Pokos’s growl was amplified through the Ancient Onyxes.
TRODLIKS CAN NEVER THREATEN US AGAIN. NOT NOW. NOT IN A HUNDRED YEARS. NOT IN A THOUSAND YEARS. NEVER.
How long Catherine held that thought, she couldn’t be sure. The gale had ceased, and Catherine felt only the soft warmth of a zephyr as her feet touched the ground again. There was silence.