“Shh,” he said.
We peered through the branches at my house, and a moment later, a tall woman stepped out. It was she who had wielded the dreadmarrow for Lord Fellstone, dressed as before in dark green leather and a cowl of the same color. Her mask made her seem not quite human; the way her sinister eyes peered through it sent a chill through my spine. She looked around from the top of the steps, and her head tilted back as if she were sniffing. She turned and tread toward us, drawing out her sword.
My hands went clammy. A shrill voice inside my head urged me to run. Ash’s face tightened and his eyes went cold. He saw my panic and touched my arm.
The woman continued in our direction, while her gaze appeared to fix on something in the distance. I wondered if she sought to fool us by keeping her eyes averted, so we wouldn’t know whether she saw us or not, and it would be all the more alarming when her glare suddenly snapped onto us.
Ash looked down and saw a rock protruding from the dirt. He dug around it with his fingers, pulling at it until it came loose. His hand wrapped around it. It might not be the most effective weapon, but better than no defense at all.
The woman paused on the road just above us. She stared at the horizon, raised her sword, and swiveled her head until her unsettling mask faced us directly. Ash and I exchanged a nervous glance. His grip tightened around the rock.
I heard footsteps running along the street. Mr. Oliver came into our filtered view, rushing toward my house. The masked woman turned away from us to look at him. He saw her and slowed his pace, but still continued forward. She sniffed, lowered her sword, strode to her grey stallion, and lifted herself onto the saddle.
“Hiyah!” she cried, stabbing the sides of the horse with her spurs. The animal leapt forward and carried her away at a gallop. I was left with the impression that her goal had been to frighten, rather than attack. To what purpose, I couldn’t imagine.
Mr. Oliver disappeared into the house.
“Sorry for pulling you,” Ash said.
“You were right,” I said, forcing my way through the heavy growth to reach the road. I ran toward the house with Ash just behind me. Inside, we found Papa as I’d left him. Mr. Oliver had pulled up a chair beside him, and sat with his head lowered. He stood as I approached and stepped toward me. Papa’s friend was clean-shaven, except for a beard that formed a neat circle on his chin. Fresh lines of grief crisscrossed his face. He opened his arms and gathered me in a tight embrace, which brought tears to my eyes. I didn’t know why, but the scent of tobacco that emanated from the pipe and pouch he always kept inside his jacket pocket, brought with it a measure of comfort.
I drew back after a moment and wiped my face with my sleeve. “Mr. Oliver,” I said. “I’m leaving to perform an urgent task that… Papa would wish me to do. May I trust you to look in on him? He should not be buried before I return.”
“I won’t leave his side till you come back,” Mr. Oliver said.
“It might be dangerous to remain here. You saw the woman?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll take my chances.”
“Papa never had a better friend than you. There’s food and drink in the pantry.”
He nodded and took out his pipe to prepare it.
I turned back to Ash, who wore a sorrowful look as he gazed at Papa. His reaction touched me, especially since, being the sexton’s son, he must’ve seen many corpses before. That he hadn’t grown cold and detached in the presence of death made me think well of him.
“Come,” I said, leading Ash into my room. It was in a terrible mess, with the mattress upended and items from my wardrobe strewn about the floor.
“The woman must’ve done this,” I said. “Who is she?”
“Fellstone’s apprentice,” Ash said.
“Why do you think she wears that mask?”
“Because her face is a window to the wickedness of her soul.”
I looked at him curiously. How does he know so much about her?
“What do you think she was looking for?” Ash said.
I shrugged, though I believed I knew precisely what she wanted, and it was hanging from my neck, tucked under my shift, at this very moment. When we returned to the main room, I turned toward the hidden alcove where Papa had stored the sword. Its door swung downwards on one hinge, exposing an empty compartment.
“Did she take anything important?” Ash said.
CALDER
Calder thrust at the hay bale with the locksmith’s sword. He’d never fenced before and never intended to learn, but he was interested in the sword’s construction. It was a knightly sword, a one-handed straight sword, lightweight and well-balanced. It had a shark’s skin grip, a simple crossguard, and a fine steel blade. The metal appeared to be of superb quality. A sword like this would not come cheap, particularly given that it would have to be purchased in secret. He wondered how the locksmith had been able to afford it.
He slid the sword back into its scabbard and set it aside. Why hasn’t Tessa returned? She’d promised to come here directly after gathering her friend. She’d vouched for his trustworthiness and skill with a sword, but Calder felt wary nevertheless. The true mettle of a friend could never be known until he was asked to face the possibility of death on a quest of your choosing. In Calder’s experience, this was when you learned you were, in fact, friendless.
He heard voices outside the barn, and a moment later, Tessa entered with a tall boy who looked familiar. The boy’s eyes lit on the sword immediately, and he restrained himself with some difficulty from reaching forward and touching it.
“I expected you sooner,” Calder told Tessa.
“I went back to the house,” she said with a shade of defiance.
Calder sighed. “Sometimes I wonder why I waste breath giving advice.”
“Ryland wouldn't come,” she said. “I thought we might have to pay someone. My plan was to gather more money from home.”
Calder nodded at Ash. “We're paying him?” Looking the boy over, Calder didn’t think his services could be worth very much.
“No, he's free,” she said.
“Didn't know payment was an option,” Ash said.
“Interesting,” Calder said. “Why have you joined us, if not for silver?”
“I’ve got my own reasons for despising Fellstone and his minions. I’m not afraid, if that’s what concerns you,” Ash said.
“I’ll vouch for his bravery,” Tessa said.
Ash looked surprised by her defense of him. Suddenly, Calder remembered where he’d seen the boy before. “Aren't you the gravedigger's son?” he said.
“Aren't you the fortuneteller?” Ash said. “Is it harder to see into the future with only one eye?”
“He has a sharp tongue, I'll give him that.” Calder was beginning to warm up to the lad. He raised the sword in its scabbard. “Do you know how to use this?”
“Better than most,” Ash said.
Calder handed him the weapon and the boy strapped it over his shoulder.
“We have to be clever in any case,” Tessa said, making her lack of confidence in Ash’s abilities painfully clear. “Obviously we can't fight our way onto the castle grounds. Do you think we could scale the wall?”
“Scale the wall?” Calder said, shaking his head. “It's taller than the elm on Howorth Green, and quite sheer.”
“I’ve climbed walls before,” Tessa said. “If we could find a long enough rope, I could throw it down to you.”
“I don’t think I could manage it, even with a rope,” said Calder.
“Do you have a better plan?” Ash said.
Calder always had a plan, and everyone agreed it was better than Tessa’s. It began with a meal, as all good plans must, for what quest ever succeeded on an empty belly? Farmer Joshua’s wife served up fried eggs and potatoes, greasy strips of bacon, and thick slabs of rustic bread onto which they piled heaps of blackberry jam. Calder exhorted everyone to eat their fill, after which he returned to his favorite hay bale for a na
p. When the sun dropped low on the horizon, they gathered again and prepared to set out for the castle.
Calder and his two companions lay on their sides inside Joshua’s cart, crammed together between crates of vegetables, and covered by a tarp. Once they were underway, he cursed himself for not padding their conveyance better; he had underestimated the discomfort of bouncing against wood planks as the cart rode over cobblestones. Worse, they were squeezed too tightly for Calder to avoid Ash’s elbow, which poked him every few minutes, despite the complaints he hissed at the boy. At least he’d managed to position his head next to a thin tear in the tarp, where the sliver of fresh air helped keep his stomach settled.
Before long, he glimpsed the massive gate set into the castle’s outer wall. A powerful jolt followed, nearly throwing his shoulder out of joint. “I'd swear he's aiming for the potholes,” he grumbled.
“He’s your friend,” Ash said, as if Calder were to be blamed for anything Joshua did. Ash’s elbow jabbed Calder again.
“We share a mutual enemy,” Calder snapped. Actually, he barely knew the farmer. But like many others in Sorrenwood, Joshua bore a heavy grudge against the Conjurer Fellstone for past injustices. When the opportunity arose for action, he didn’t hesitate, though he well knew he put his livelihood at risk by helping them.
“Why are you here, Calder?” Tessa asked. “Revenge for the pillory?”
“That was all in a day's work. I've come seeking a friend.”
“Is he at the castle?”
“She. I don't know. Perhaps.”
“A scullery maid?” Ash said.
“Whoa!” Joshua shouted before Calder could reply. The horses halted abruptly, jarring the three companions hidden inside the cart.
Calder pressed his finger to his lips and squinted through his peephole. They’d ridden through the gate and were paused on the road which would lead them past the Cursed Wood to the castle. Six boarmen bearing two-handed great swords were on guard, three to each side of the gate. They were lined up like pillars, their eyes resembling cold dark pebbles, never blinking as far as Calder could tell. He stifled a shiver.
A guard wearing a spotless, well-pressed uniform and shiny leather boots approached the cart. His yellow hair was precisely parted and had been greased to keep it flat, but one errant strand had popped up in the back. He stopped next to Joshua and stood rigid while demanding in clipped tones that the farmer identify himself.
Joshua sounded confused when he spoke. “Is Orson about? He usually minds the gate.”
“I'm Captain Yoxall. I mind the gate now.”
This was not good at all. Joshua had assured Calder that Orson would be at the gate, and Orson was a nearly pleasant fellow who, for a mere half liter of Joshua’s award-winning whiskey, would wave him on his way with nary a glance into his cart.
“Identify yourself,” the captain repeated.
“Joshua Ferriman. Been delivering fresh vegetables to the castle for nigh on twelve years, and my pa before that.”
“What's in the cart?” said the captain, not about to be led into conversation.
“Like I said… potatoes, carrots, onions, barley.” Joshua moved out of Calder’s view and returned with a jug in his hand. “Captain, maybe you'd like a taste of my own home-brewed whiskey. It’s quite famous round these parts. You must get thirsty standin’ about here all evenin'.” He poured some into a cup.
Captain Yoxall ignored the drink. “I need to see what's under the tarp.”
Joshua took a swig from the cup. “Mother of gods, I've outdone myself with this batch. Sure I can't tempt you?”
“Untie the tarp or I'll have my boarmen rip it off with their teeth,” the captain said in the same measured tone.
Inside the cart, the three companions exchanged frightened glances. Calder opened his bag and began a frantic search. “Blast, where is it?” he hissed. It was as if his possessions had minds of their own, and deliberately shifted to new locations whenever the bag was closed, solely to vex him.
“No need for violence. I’ll get it for you,” Joshua said loudly. He stepped away with the jug, then returned and leaned over the tarp, taking his time to untie it.
Calder whipped out a vial filled with green liquid and flung drops of it over all of them. “It covers our scent,” he whispered. Boarmen had poor vision and relied on their noses to seek out their quarry.
Joshua flipped the rope off the tarp. “Go ahead, take a gander at my prize-winning potatoes,” he said.
As Captain Yoxall lifted the tarp at the rear of the wagon, Joshua began to back away. He and Calder had agreed he should run at the first sign of trouble. Later he could claim he’d allowed Calder and his friends into his cart after they’d threatened the well-being of his children, but he was too terrified of the boarmen to make his explanation at the gate.
Joshua continued his retreat as the captain steadily rolled the tarp forward. Just as Calder was about to be exposed, he leapt up and slammed his bag into the man’s face. The captain fell to the ground, stunned.
“Run!” Calder shouted. He jumped down with his bag and shot toward the forest. He could hear Tessa and Ash running just behind him until their footsteps veered off to the side. Separating was a good strategy, though they’d made no arrangements for how to find each other later. He could not worry about that now. He risked one glance back toward the gate to see Joshua bolting toward town and disappearing behind the first building. The six boarmen stood gawking, unsure who to chase without orders from their human leader. Captain Yoxall pulled himself up, brushed off his precious uniform, and patted down his yellow hair.
“After them!” he shouted. The boarmen still looked confused, until the captain pointed toward the forest. Two set off in Calder’s direction, while the others thundered toward the place where Tessa and Ash had sprinted through the trees.
Calder dashed to a tangled thicket and dove beneath it. Wooden tendrils scratched his face and clawed at his clothing. A branch tore through his trousers and held him in place. Do the plants also defend Fellstone? He looked back to see the two boarmen crashing towards him. He swore and thrust himself forward, the sharp wood gashing his skin as he broke free of it. He scraped his way along the dirt and pine needles until the bramble gave way to a carpet of moss.
The boarmen couldn’t fit under the heavy growth, but it wouldn’t take them long to smash their way through it. Calder, with his bag looped over his shoulder, raced toward fallen trees that were heaped just ahead. He plunged into a pile of leaves between two of the logs, and burrowed deeper until the leaves and dirt covered him entirely.
Though sounds were muffled within these bleak woods, he could hear the boarmen approaching. Their unwieldy girth prevented them from ever naming stealth as one of their attributes. They kept up a steady stream of blows and snorts, unnerving Calder. He was too small, and his vision too limited, to fight them. He did carry a dagger but rarely had he used it. Still, he reached for its hilt so he would be ready if it came to that.
A branch snapped near him. Silence followed, which was more terrifying than any of the noise that preceded it. He prayed the green potion covered the smell of his fear along with his human scent. Leaves rustled. His instincts told him one of them must be leaning over him, waiting like a patient beast of prey for his quarry to twitch. The stench of the creature’s foul breath reached him and caused his nose to tingle. His blood froze at the thought of a sneeze.
But then came a snarl followed by incomprehensible squeals, and the sounds of one boarman shoving the other. Their footsteps crunched against the forest floor as they trotted away.
Calder sneezed quietly into his hand before clearing an opening in the leaves to let in fresh air.
ASH
Tessa zipped up a tree as if she’d climbed a lot of them as a child, and flattened herself on a branch that was nearly as high as the chapel tower. Ash followed her, feeling clumsy by comparison, though he had the excuse of being unaccustomed to having a sword strapped to him.
He stretched out on a branch below hers, unsure whether there weren’t still parts of him that would be visible to peering eyes from below. Perhaps it wouldn’t occur to the boarmen to look up. With human bodies, they were capable of climbing, but their boarish instincts might revolt from such an action.
Ash remained as still as he could, as four boarmen followed a rough path not far from their tree. Three kept a fixed pace, glancing around and sniffing the air without pausing. The fourth hung back. His two sets of tusks looked longer, sharper, and deadlier than those of the others. The beast slowed close to the tree, and took several wheezy breaths. He glanced upwards without seeming to see Ash or Tessa, and a moment later, he continued after the other boarmen.
For several more minutes, neither Ash nor Tessa moved. Finally he looked up to see her leaning over the edge of her branch. Her attention was focused on a small beetle crawling near her face. She picked it up, stared at it, and brought it toward her mouth.
“What’re you doing?” Ash whispered. Anyone would have to be starving to eat a beetle, especially one that was still alive, but no more than a few hours could’ve passed since they finished their meal and set out in the cart.
“Nothing,” she said, dropping the bug. “You didn’t think I was going to…?” She looked around. “Where’s Calder?”
“Dunno. Thought he was right behind us.”
“We need to find him.”
Ash lowered himself from the branch, and she scrambled down after him. They began to make their way through the forest, but progress was slow through the dense undergrowth. Ash had hoped to find the north star and use it to guide them, but mist clouded their view of the heavens. A half-moon glistened through it, providing a small amount of light but not enough to give him any sense of the direction in which the castle lay. For all he knew, they could be headed straight back to where they started at the gate.
He was about to stop and consult Tessa when the ground shook and the boarman with razor-sharp tusks leapt in front of them. Tessa shrieked as the beast raised up his great sword with both hands. Fear paralyzed Ash as his mind flashed to another boarman, in another time and place. But Tessa calling his name brought him back to himself. With his hair tied back in the style Lance had worn, he felt his brother’s strength surge through him.
Dreadmarrow Thief (The Conjurer Fellstone Book 1) Page 6