The Frostwoven Crown (Book 4)

by Andrew Hunter

  Garrett fell to his knees beside her and put his hand on her arm. “I’m so sorry!” he cried, “I’m sorry, Scupp! I’m so sorry!”

  Suddenly Scupp’s unbandaged eye popped open, and she rolled over to drive a solid knuckle punch into Garrett’s shoulder.

  Garrett fell over backwards, writhing in pain.

  “Dammit, Scupp!” Garrett howled, clutching at his bruised shoulder as the she-ghoul crouched over him, grinning wickedly.

  Warren and Diggs rolled on the floor, hooting with laughter.

  “Now, we’re even!” Scupp laughed. Then she reached down and grabbed Garrett by the collar, hauling him to his feet. She licked his face and grinned again. “Good to have you back, Gar,” she said.

  “I’m sorry, Scupp,” he said, ignoring the pain in his shoulder as he hugged her tightly.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, pushing him to arm’s length and looking him up and down.

  “I think you broke my arm,” he whined.

  “Don’t be such a pup about it,” she chided, “I hit Diggs way harder than that, and he’s still alive. I mean are you all right?”

  “Yeah, I am now,” Garrett sighed, looking toward Lady Ymowyn. Something had changed in the way she looked at him, like she expected him to be more than he was ready to be.

  “What’s wrong with him, Ym?” Warren asked, his smile gone.

  “We need to talk about this,” she said, her eyes still on Garrett, “This isn’t something that we are going to be able to hide anymore. Other parties are involved now, and things are going to change.”

  “Other parties?” Warren asked, “You mean enemies?”

  She nodded. “And new friends as well,” she said.

  “So Anna Gree knew what this was about?” Warren asked.

  “Yes,” Ymowyn said, “She proved… most helpful.”

  Warren seemed perplexed by her answer, but looked too weary to pursue it further. “Good,” he said, “I’m glad you’re better, Gar… but you think somethin’ like this might happen again?”

  “No!” Garrett said, a bit louder than he had intended, “I’m never gonna let this happen again!”

  Warren looked at him reassuringly and then cast a cautious glance toward Ymowyn.

  “I think we’re past the worst of it,” Ymowyn said.

  “Good,” Bargas muttered as he shouldered open the broken front door, carrying a heaping platter of steaming pies in his hands, “because, if this happens again, I’m callin’ Raik in on it.”

  “No!” Ymowyn gasped, “Bargas, you can’t let him know what happened!”

  “Uncle Raik can help?” Warren asked.

  Something unspoken seemed to pass between the elder ghoul and the fox woman. Ymowyn’s pleading look must have convinced him to let it drop, for he simply sighed and said, “Time to eat.”

  “Yes!” Diggs yelped, already headed for the platter of pies.

  Bargas snarled him into a tail-tucked cower a moment later.

  “These are for the injured, whelp!” he growled, “Go get your own food!”

  “Yessir,” Diggs said, lowering his ears against his head as he ducked past Bargas on the way out the door.

  “Thanks, Mister Bargas,” Scupp said, taking a pie from the plate with a grateful smile.

  “You get better, girl,” he grumbled, letting his son have a grab at the platter next.

  “Thanks dad,” Warren said, stuffing a pie in his mouth before reaching for another.

  “I’m sorry, Mister Bargas,” Garrett said, his eyes on the floor.

  Warren groaned through a mouthful of meat as his father pulled the platter away and passed the rest to Scupp.

  Bargas stepped over to stand before Garrett, towering above him and looking down as if trying to decide the boy’s fate.

  Garrett looked up at the huge ghoul, not a little afraid. Garrett had brought danger into Bargas’s house. He had nearly killed the ghoul’s only son.

  Bargas sighed again at last and reached out to pull Garrett close, burying Garrett’s face in the moldy gray fur of his chest. “We’re family, boy,” Bargas croaked, “You done nothin’ I can’t forgive.”

  Garrett sniffed back tears, clinging to Bargas like a little boy.

  Bargas patted him gently on the head and stepped away, shaking his head. “Damn fool thing to do, boy,” he sighed, “Damn fool thing to do.”

  “You think he should stay with us, dad?” Warren asked.

  Bargas nodded. “Least ‘till we sort this out,” he said.

  Garrett’s heart fluttered with fear. “What time is it?” he gasped, “How long was I out?”

  Warren and Scupp shared a worried look but said nothing.

  Garrett looked at Ymowyn in desperation. “I’ve gotta get to Logate!” he cried, “I’m late for Templar duty!”

  Ymowyn shook her head. “Garrett, that was yesterday,” she said.

  “Oh, cramps!” he groaned, “They're gonna flog me again… or worse.”

  Lady Ymowyn’s eyes flared, and her back stiffened.

  “I gotta go,” Garrett said, shaking his head with worry, “I gotta run home and get changed… no, I better go straight there! I gotta tell ‘em something… maybe there’s like a one free foul up rule or something… probably not.” He looked around in desperation, trying to think of what excuse he could possibly give for missing his entire second night of Templar duty.

  Ymowyn strode forward, her bushy tail lashing behind her, and slapped Garrett hard across the cheek.

  “Ym!” Warren cried.

  Garrett stared back at the fox woman who regarded him with blazing green eyes.

  “No!” she said, her voice shaking with emotion, “you are the Songreaver, the Kingslayer, wielder of ancient power, and heir to a great destiny! Do not ever, ever forget yourself again!”

  Garrett forgot to breathe. He simply blinked at her with his lips hanging open.

  “You are not some stable boy to be whipped at your master’s whim! You are my king!” she hissed, “How dare you fear them? How dare you fear them?”

  Garrett’s eyes fell as he considered her words.

  Warren got to his feet, pressing one paw to his bandaged ribs as he limped over to put his arm around the trembling fox woman. Garrett looked up to see the question in his oldest friend’s eyes.

  A feeling of peace came over Garrett, and he nodded, rubbing absently at the place where Ymowyn had slapped him. He realized then that he wasn’t afraid of them anymore. The only thing he feared now was the danger of forgetting himself and becoming again the thing that had hurt his friends.

  “Thank you,” he said to Ymowyn.

  She looked suddenly ashamed, her eyes falling as she leaned against Warren for support.

  “I won’t forget again,” Garrett said, “not ever.”

  Garrett turned to the others. “Thank you all,” he said, “We’ll need to talk when I get back. I hope you’re all feeling better by then.”

  “Where’re you goin’?” Warren asked, raising his free paw questioningly.

  “I have to go turn in my Templar stuff,” he said, “It’s time I grew up and took some responsibility for what I’ve done… and what I’ve got to do.”

  “What’re you gonna do, boy?” Bargas asked.

  “I guess I gotta learn how to be a good king,” he chuckled.

  *******

  Garrett carried his green tabard neatly folded in his hands as he approached the station at Logate. He wore his necromancer's robe and medallion instead, hoping to make his divided loyalties more apparent. A growing sense of unease filled his mind as he sighted a green carriage parked outside the guardhouse, but he could not turn back now. He would deliver his apology and resignation to Captain Gaulve before heading to the temple to explain things to Serepheni and Brix.

  Several Templars were chatting together outside the station house as Garrett walked up. They noticed his approach and fell silent, exchanging dark looks with one another.

  "Turtle!" Peac
h hissed, his eyes wild as he trotted toward Garrett, waving his hands back and forth, "You better get outta here!"

  "I have to talk to the Captain about last night," Garrett said.

  "Just run, Turtle," Peach moaned, "Just get outta town while you can and don't ever come back."

  Garrett squinted at him, trying to make sense of the young man's panic.

  Just then, Captain Gaulve stepped out of the station house into the street, looking somewhat startled to find Garrett standing there.

  "Captain..." Garrett started to say, but his words died on his lips when he saw Matron Shelbie emerge from the building just behind the Templar captain.

  She stared at him, boggle-eyed for a moment, then she began sputtering incoherently, pointing her finger at him for several seconds before she was able to spit out, "Seize him!"

  Peach closed his eyes in defeat as the other Templars rushed forward to surround Garrett in the street. Passersby scattered, frightened as the Templars pulled their maces from their belts and stood ready to attack.

  "You're under arrest, boy," Captain Gaulve said with a weary look in his eye.

  "Give me a chance to explain!" Garrett cried.

  Matron Shelbie started sputtering with rage again, but Gaulve continued.

  "You'll have a chance to explain your actions at the temple, boy," the captain sighed, "Now make it easier on yourself and come along quietly."

  "I just missed one day," Garrett said, "I know I messed up, but I'm willing to take the punishment."

  "This goes way beyond that, boy," Gaulve said, "Now hand over your weapon and come with us."

  "My weapon?" Garrett said, "Oh..." he looked down at Cenick's old jungle knife on his belt. He pulled it from its scabbard and handed it, pommel-first to Peach.

  Snuff was standing next to Peach and snatched the blade from his hand, eying it with a yellow-toothed grin on his face. "Neshite blade," he said, passing it to the captain.

  Gaulve glanced at it before offering it to Matron Shelbie.

  She stared down at it as if it were something diseased. "I told you!" she hissed, "Take this little spy to the temple!"

  Garrett looked at her with a feeling of distant contempt. He didn't even consider her worthy of his hate anymore. He handed his tabard to Peach and nodded his farewell as Snuff stripped the satchel from Garrett's shoulder and pushed him off in the direction of the Upper City. The captain gestured for Hawk, Snuff, and several other Templars to fall in as Garrett's escort.

  Garrett cast one last glance at Matron Shelbie as she climbed back into her carriage to depart. She gave him a triumphant sneer, and then called for her coachman to take her back to the temple.

  "What's this about, Captain," Garrett asked as they turned up a quiet lane, heading north.

  Snuff whipped his cudgel across Garrett's shoulder, staggering him. "Keep yer mouth shut, spy!"

  "That's enough of that, Snuff," Captain Gaulve growled.

  Snuff snorted and spun his mace in his hand once before sliding it back into its belt loop.

  "You're charged with treason, boy," Captain Gaulve said, "Whatever happens, you're in for a bad time of it."

  "Treason?" Garrett exclaimed, "That's crazy!"

  "A word of advice, boy," the captain said, "You won't be able to hide anything from the priestesses, so don't try. Even if you're guilty... especially if you're guilty, just tell the truth, and things will go easier on you."

  "Shelbie..." Garrett scoffed, shaking his head.

  "If you don't mind my askin', Cap, why are all of us goin'?" Hawk muttered.

  "The Matron wants us to testify to the prisoner's behavior during the Shadetree raid." Captain Gaulve said.

  "So that's why he was so keen to let those rats escape," Snuff chuckled.

  "Or maybe I just don't like beating up little kids," Garrett said.

  "Captain," Snuff said, "You think maybe I could have the day off to go watch 'em execute him when the time comes?"

  Captain Gaulve ignored him.

  "You know the punishment for treason, kid?" Snuff asked.

  Garrett didn't even look at him.

  "First they tie your hands and feet and stretch you out nice and tight," Snuff laughed, "Then this fella with a knife steps up and..."

  "Shut up, Snuff," Captain Gaulve snapped.

  "Yessir," Snuff grumbled.

  "You know what the Chadiri do to Templars?" Garrett mused.

  Snuff glared at him but said nothing.

  "The same thing they do to necromancers," Garrett said, "As far as they're concerned, you guys and me are all on the same side. They'd probably laugh their butts off to hear you call me a traitor... I'd bet they'd love to see us killing each other off, so they can just walk in and finish off the survivors."

  "Do we gotta listen to this, Cap?" Hawk said.

  "Shut up, boy," Captain Gaulve sighed, "Save your breath for answering the priestesses. You're gonna have a long night tonight."

  Snuff gave an evil, hissing laugh.

  Garrett let out a slow breath as he walked on in silence between the Templar guards. He could feel the cold rage beginning to seethe within his chest, but he refused to give in to it. A time might come when his life would depend upon the Songreaver's strength, but he shuddered to think of losing control to that cold, ancient rage ever again.

  Garrett's feet were aching by the time they reached the Upper City and arrived at the Chapel Ward. The Templars guarding the main gates shared a few words with Captain Gaulve and then let them pass, eying Garrett with alarm.

  Matron Shelbie was waiting in the main courtyard with a score of armed Templars and a sharp grin on her face. "Bind him!" she commanded, and two of her men moved forward to tie Garrett's hands behind his back with green silk cords.

  Once Garrett's bonds were secure, Matron Shelbie walked slowly forward until she stood only inches away from Garrett. She leaned close, relishing the moment with a cruel smirk.

  "I knew this day would come," she whispered, "Praise the Eternal Mother, Her enemies have been delivered into my hands!"

  "Enemies?" Garrett sneered, "You mean the ones in your head?"

  Shelbie started to speak again, but her attention was drawn by the sudden appearance of Matron Serepheni who stormed out of the temple, her green robes fluttering behind her.

  "What's going on here?" Serepheni shouted.

  Matron Shelbie smiled sweetly at the approaching priestess. "So glad you could join us Serepheni," she said, "Perhaps you'd like to confess before these witnesses and save us all the trouble of a trial."

  "Confess?" Serepheni hissed, her eyes burning with outrage, "You'd better explain yourself, Matron Shelbie. I have no further patience for your games!"

  "Ah well," Shelbie sighed, "I'll enjoy seeing you squirm, trying to explain your actions to the High Priestess."

  "The High Priestess will hear of this indeed!" Serepheni said, "And perhaps you will enjoy explaining the discord and strife you have spread through her holy temple again and again. Need I remind you of the embarrassment of your previous failures?"

  "I need no reminders, Serepheni!" Shelbie spat, "I remember all too well what you have cost me in the past. This time, however, everyone will learn who has been truly serving the cause of our Eternal Mother, and who has been working against Her all along!"

  "You go too far, Shelbie!" Serepheni whispered, "This ends now!"

  Shelbie gave a bitter laugh. "Yes, Serepheni," she said, "You're quite right about that!"

  She turned to Captain Gaulve and the other Logate men. "Captain," she said, "report to the library to give your statements to the scribe I have waiting there. I have given her a list of questions that I will have answered. Be sure to leave nothing out... the time has come for the whole truth to be known, Captain!"

  "Yes, Matron," Captain Gaulve said, bowing crisply.

  "Take the prisoner to his cell," Shelbie commanded the men holding Garrett's arms.

  "Don't worry, Garrett," Serepheni said, giving him an earnes
t look, "I'll sort this all out quickly. I swear it!"

  Shelbie laughed again. "Come along then, Serepheni," she said, her voice full of venom, "The High Priestess is waiting."

  Serepheni glared at the sneering matron and then turned on her heel to walk stiffly back into the temple, followed closely by Matron Shelbie.

  The two men at Garrett's elbows nudged him forward and he went without protest.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Garrett had never known that the Temple of Mauravant contained a dungeon, but now that he was a prisoner of it, he had to admit that it was exactly the sort of dungeon that the Goddess of Death might keep.

  He sat in his cell on a low stone bench, listening to the steady drip of water from a corroded pipe that protruded from the mossy stones of the wall to his left. A muddy pool formed on the floor beneath it and emptied into a small sewer grate in the corner. The opposite wall was a single, carved stone bas-relief, depicting a scene of screaming, naked victims being fed into the jaws of a great tentacle-faced worm that seemed to be burrowing up from the core of the world to devour them. He amused himself by trying to count how many sacrificial victims were plummeting to their dooms in the scene, but the number of random body parts surrounding the Worm Mother's mouth made an accurate count difficult.

  He soon grew bored of it and glanced again toward the thick oaken door of the cell, seeing nothing but darkness through the small, barred window placed at eye-level in the door. Only a single witchfire sconce sputtered in a recessed hole in the ceiling, lending a dreary green glow to the room.

  Hours had passed since the Templars had shoved him into the cell. Obviously Serepheni's promise of a rapid resolution had not paid off. He resigned himself to a longer stay and stretched out on the uncomfortable stone bench, hoping he wasn't going to be here long enough to have to try to figure out how to use the drippy hole in the floor for a privy. He groaned then, realizing that just thinking about the drippy hole made him need to use it even more.

  At last, he sighed and rolled off the bench onto his feet. He glanced toward the door again to reassure himself that no one was watching, and then walked slowly over to the drippy corner.