“Wait,” he said. “Take this.” He handed me the long dagger he’d been using, with symbols carved into its handle. “I took it from Scarface,” he added, seeing my look.
“Don’t you need a weapon?”
He looked around the room. His gaze stopped on the fireplace tools by the hearth. “This will do.” He grabbed the iron shovel.
I tucked the knife into my belt and pushed against the entrance to the passage, which had no knob. It didn’t budge.
“Try again,” said Ash.
I leaned my shoulder into it. Suddenly the door came unstuck and opened inward. I nearly fell into the passage, only just managing to grip the edge of the wall to steady myself. I stepped over the frame and held the door open for Ash.
He handed me a lighted lamp before joining me in the passage. Letting the door close behind us, I had a moment of panic, seeing that there was no knob on this side either. Ash pushed back on it and we found that the door swung both ways. If all were the same, we would have no trouble entering his lordship’s chambers, if we could find the passage that led there.
Before taking a step, I held out the light to look around. We stood in a cramped space between the walls, at the top of a narrow, winding iron staircase, rusted with age. Of course, we would need to go down to end up under the castle. I exchanged a glance with Ash and was about to proceed when he moved in front of me.
“Let me,” he said.
I didn’t argue. This was one time when I was happy to let him play the hero. He tucked the shovel under his arm, held Calder’s bag with his left hand, and gripped the iron rail with his right as he began his descent. I followed his lead, holding the lamp with my free hand.
The place stank of mold and decay. I would have liked to cover my nose, but I didn’t dare let go of the rail. Several of the iron stairs wobbled under my weight, and I wasn’t sure if they would hold. It might’ve been my imagination, but I thought I heard a low moan in the distance. It could not have been the wind blowing through the tunnels, because the air was still and hung over us like a stifling blanket.
Ash was halfway to the bottom when the step broke under his foot. He dangled for a moment, clutching the rail and trying to hang onto Calder’s bag. He found purchase on the step below, but in the meantime, his shovel fell from under his arm and clattered all the way down to the bottom. He looked up at me in disgust with himself.
“Do you think anyone didn’t hear that?” he said.
“We’d better be quick,” I said. He lifted me down to where he stood, and from there we moved swiftly to the ground below, where Ash retrieved his shovel. The passage at the bottom went in one direction only, so we were not delayed by the need to make a choice yet. The narrow width forced us to travel single-file, and Ash had to keep his head bowed to avoid scraping the ceiling. He insisted on leading again, and I insisted that the one in front must carry the lamp to light our way. As we moved forward through the cramped space, we also seemed to be moving downward. I struggled to fill my mind with pleasant thoughts to keep from imagining the horrors we might find so far beneath the castle.
Before long, we came to an iron door at the end of the passage. It wasn’t locked, but Ash opened it cautiously to check what was on the other side of it, before ushering me through. It appeared we’d entered an enormous cavern. Ash held up the lamp, but we could not see the far side, and its ceiling, bathed in darkness, was high above us. For me it was a welcome change after the confinement of the tunnel. We agreed we must be well below the inner courtyard, and that, perhaps during a siege, weapons and supplies were stored here. Broken and rotting crates were stacked against the wall beside us. This had to be the meeting place if all hope was lost, and the castle was to be evacuated. There must be one passageway—which we would need to find later—that led outside.
“If we go left, the first door we reach should lead to Lord Fellstone’s chambers,” I said, basing this on how our rooms were laid out above.
Ash nodded and handed me the lamp. He hooked Calder’s bag on his shoulder, raised the iron shovel, and gave me a reassuring smile. I held the light in one hand, and the dagger in my other. We stepped forward, keeping close to the wall. Soon we noticed strange wet, white deposits on the ground, which resembled bird droppings. At first they were small, but then we saw a much larger pile ahead of us. Ash and I exchanged puzzled looks.
“Wait here,” he said. He moved forward to make a closer inspection of whatever it was.
I knelt and peered at the smaller deposit nearest me. I wasn’t sure, but it looked as if there were small bones and maybe even a tooth in the midst of the white goo. Something whooshed above me, making me look up. I let out a shriek when a horrid creature, a snake with wings like a bat, flew down from above and landed a few feet ahead of me. Somehow it balanced with as much as a third of its body sticking straight up. I hate snakes. But this was worse—menacing and unnatural—the way it blocked my way, confronting me.
I moved slowly backwards. The creature’s neck flared wide, looking like a hood around its head. It hissed at me. I retreated further, but the thing slithered toward me. I held up the lamp… undeterred by the flame, it just kept coming. I thought about using my knife, but the strike of a snake would be faster. Another step and I was pinned against the cave wall. The creature sprang forward, but before its fangs reached me, Ash came out of nowhere and slammed its head with his shovel, crushing it.
I breathed again.
“It’s a slitherbatt,” he said. “Have you seen any others?”
I shivered and raised the lamp. We peered toward the roof of the cavern high above us. Is it undulating? It was dark and I couldn’t quite make anything out, except a vague sense of motion. I glanced at Ash, whose nervous gaze did nothing to reassure me.
As we watched, another slitherbatt dropped from the ceiling, and I realized it had been hanging upside down, as a bat would. What if there were some sort of trellis up there, for them to coil their tails around? If there were two, there could be thousands.
Ash and I turned to each other. “Run!” I said.
We took off side by side. The motion must’ve attracted the creatures; they began plummeting by the dozens, landing all around us, skidding toward us. One dropped on my arm, and I cried out, shaking it away, losing hold of the lamp. It broke hitting the ground and went out. I can’t see anything. But I could hear the horrifying swish of their wings, and the crunch of gravel as they wriggled over it.
Ash was ahead of me, swinging the shovel from side to side, whacking slitherbatts out of our path, clearing a way for us. I followed behind him as well as I could, my eyes gradually adjusting to the dark. But suddenly I felt a sharp sting as one of the creatures struck my thigh and punctured my flesh. I stabbed at it with the dagger, tearing its wing, and it let go of me, falling to the side. Its bite had gone through my clothing; maybe that would lessen its effect. I had no doubt its venom was poisonous. How much did it take to kill a person? I prayed we would not die today. Not here. Not now. But when I tried to follow Ash, I stumbled, sank down on my knees and fell onto my side. I couldn’t move my limbs. I tried to call out, but my mouth hung limp. Only my eyes were still able to dart from side to side. I couldn’t see Ash, couldn’t even hear him anymore. He must not have seen me fall. Or worse… so much worse… he too had been struck and lay as I did, helpless to save himself or me.
But then, I couldn’t believe it, the slitherbatts rose into the air, and flew back toward the roof of the cavern. I said a prayer of thanks inside. I’d thought they might all crowd around and eat me, but that wasn’t the way snakes ate, and I was too big for any one of them. Now I wondered if they were only defending their territory. If I could only move… I focused all my thoughts on lifting one hand, but it just lay there. What happened to the power that shattered Lady Nora’s glass? I cursed myself for not taking lessons from Lord Fellstone when I could have.
That was when I saw it, descending toward me. Its giant mouth open, exposing sword-like fangs. Its
body the width of a tree trunk; its tail trailing far behind. Its wings spread as wide as my house. The blood drained from my face, and the hair lifted from the back of my neck. It lowered itself to the ground along the path that had been cleared, undulated toward me, and opened its mouth wide. I was going to die in the belly of a snake.
Ash dove to the ground beside me and snatched up the dagger from my inert hand. I think the giant slitherbatt would have struck him, but its mouth was unhinged for swallowing. He ran behind its head, leapt on its back, and plunged the dagger into the snake’s right eye. The beast howled in agony. Ash clung to its hooded neck while he tried to shift sides. The snake whipped its head, causing Ash to slide down, but still he hung on. He clawed his way back up, using jabs with the knife to hold himself in place. He hung perilously from the beast’s neck as he thrust the dagger into the second eye. The viper wailed and snapped its head backwards.
Ash flipped off the creature and landed hard. He looked dazed as he struggled to pull himself back up. He staggered toward me as the slitherbatt reared its upper body, preparing to strike. Ash had only one thing—the dagger—and he threw it at a boulder not far from us. The clatter drew the animal’s attention, and it struck where the dagger had landed. Ash wasted no time, but grabbed me up and tossed me over his shoulder. He raced to an open doorway—the next passage—and laid me down inside it, several yards from the entrance. To my horror, he spun around and ran back out to the cavern. In the second it took me to wonder why, I realized the answer. Calder’s bag was still out there, with Calder the cockroach inside it.
My head lay facing the opening to the cavern, and I watched as seconds later, Ash came into view again, backing toward the passage, holding Calder’s bag in one hand, the iron shovel in the other. The creature slithered toward him, faster than before, driven by rage. Its open mouth shot forward and Ash smashed a fang with his shovel, keeping it from sinking into him. But at the same time, something sprayed out of the creature’s mouth, covering him in a fine mist. He turned and dove back into the passage as the slitherbatt sprung at him again. Its yawning maw struck the stone surrounding the entrance to the passage, and it dropped back in pain and misery.
Ash slammed the iron door shut. He turned toward me before dropping onto his knees, clapping his hands over his face, and moaning in agony. I knew then the venom had gotten into his eyes. I felt the most helpless I ever had in my life, lying on the ground, watching him suffer, unable to lift a finger or even utter a word of comfort. He remained like that for some time until at last, mercifully, the pain must have lessened, and he lowered his hands.
“I’m blind,” he said. Even at our lowest moments, his voice had held more hope than it did now. I struggled to form a response, but it was futile.
“Tessa?” he said. He reached down and picked up Calder’s bag. Feeling the walls of the passage around him, he made his way toward me. His foot found me, gently nudging against me. He knelt beside me, whispered my name again, and lifted my arm, which hung limp in his grasp. As he bent over me, his unseeing gaze stared past me. Red streaks crisscrossed his eyes.
He lowered my arm, threw himself on the ground, and buried his head in his arms. The sounds of weeping arose. Cruel, cruel irony. He’d blinded the viper, and the viper had extracted the identical revenge. Not an eye for an eye, but two eyes for two eyes.
It was not long before he stirred again. Even in the direst situations, Ash felt compelled to take action. He lifted his head and whispered the word, “Dreadmarrow.” Calder’s bag was beside him. He opened it and reached inside, being careful to move his hand slowly, giving Calder the cockroach ample time to move out of his way. At least his loss of sight would not affect his search for the invisible dreadmarrow. After feeling inside the bag for several moments, he pulled the wand out, grasping its imperceptible form with his fingers.
I could tell from his expression, now that he had the dreadmarrow, he did not know what to do with it. After thinking for a minute, he touched me again to feel how I was oriented. Then he leaned forward and held the dreadmarrow above me. “Abracadabra!” he said.
It was not the most inspired start.
He took my hand in his so that he could feel if I might move. Again he lifted the wand, and this time he waved it over me. “Unpoison her!” he said. “Bring her back to life!” He continued with a string of phrases all meaning the same thing, and waited a moment for a reaction from me. When none came, he said, “Read my mind, you stupid dreadmarrow!” He waved the wand up and down, and back and forth, across my body. He touched its tip against my forehead, chest, arms, and legs. But none of it did any good. He leaned back against the wall. “Please gods,” he whispered. “Let her live.”
I knew now that he believed me to be dead. I’d mourned his false death before, and now he would grieve for mine. Panic shot through me as the thought occurred that he might leave my body here, or worse yet, bury me. If only I could find a way to show him I was alive.
But Ash had a different plan. He stood up suddenly. “Fellstone,” he said. “Fellstone can use the dreadmarrow to bring you back to life.” He bent and found my waist to lift me over his shoulder. He took Calder’s bag with his other hand and set off along the passage.
No! That’s what I would’ve said if my mouth would only work again. Don’t do it. Because giving me up and returning the dreadmarrow meant giving up on all of us. Ash would be sent back to the dungeon. I would receive better treatment, but my room would be as much a prison as his. There would be no one to save Mama or Calder. I would not have anything of value to bargain for their lives. Was this how our quest would end? We’d managed to save Papa, but for what? He would be miserable living alone without me by his side, and miserable contemplating the magic he owed for his life. What value was life without happiness?
Ash had to hunch over to avoid scraping my body against the roof of the passage, and he had to keep one hand against the wall to steer himself, but still he strode steadily, without hesitation. I knew from before that when he made up his mind to do something, nothing could stop him. He’d decided the only way to save me was to present me and the dreadmarrow to Lord Fellstone, and that was what he would do.
We soon came to the end of the passage, where it opened to the iron staircase that must lead to his lordship’s chambers. The way did not stop here, as it did below my room, but continued in another direction. Of course, the lord of the manor would have his own direct route of escape, unlike all others in the castle, who would first need to survive the slitherbatt gauntlet. What hurt most, however, was the realization that our plan would’ve succeeded if Ash hadn’t been struck blind, and me, made helpless by those creatures. We would only have had to fetch Mama before making our escape.
Ash found the stairs with his hands and started up them. They were wider and in far better repair than the ones which led down from Mama’s former room. Carrying me made it awkward for him, but he clung to the rail and moved purposefully forward, one deliberate step at a time. When we reached the top, he set down Calder’s bag and laid me on the landing.
Muffled voices came from the other side of the wall.
Ratcher said, “…did precisely as you instructed.”
Fellstone, though he’d looked so weak when I saw him earlier in the evening, spoke in harsh, angry tones. “Then why didn’t the elixir work? Look at me. I’m older, not younger. I would wonder if she’s even my daughter, if I didn’t feel our connection so strongly.”
“If only you had your dreadmarrow—”
“Dreadmarrow be damned! I would not need it if the elixir worked as it ought.”
“My lord,” said Ratcher, “tell me what you would wish me to do. The blood of Fellstones also runs through me. I would drain my own veins of it, if there were any chance it would return you to your youthful vigor.”
The blood of Fellstones runs through her. Is she… is she also his daughter… my sister? I recoiled at the thought. Besides, if she were… Mama would never have left her behind when
she ran away. Ratcher and I were nothing alike. She’d shown herself to be wicked and cruel, many times over. But—the thought nagged at me—so is Lord Fellstone, and he’s my father.
“Your blood is tainted,” Lord Fellstone said. “It would never do. Your mother came of the sewers of Hardragon.”
Of course. Her mother was not, could not, be the same as mine. Ratcher must be my half-sister. I wondered at his treatment of her, so different than the distinction he’d shown me. How did she feel to hear herself spurned? No. I would not allow myself to consider her feelings. Sister or not, she would never have my sympathy, not after what she did to Ash’s brother.
“Fetch me fresh ingredients, and another dram of Teresa’s blood,” Fellstone continued. “Do not fail me this time. My patience grows thin.”
I caught my breath. My blood? My face burned as fury welled up inside me. My hand shot forward of its own volition, and gripped Ash’s leg. He started, losing his balance, barely managing to grab the rail and stop himself from falling. I saw that his face was ashen when he bent over me seconds later. Whether my sudden movement shocked him, or the knowledge of my father’s treachery, I didn’t know.
The voices in the chamber went silent. Had they heard the creaking of the rail? It appeared they had not, when a moment later, Ratcher said, “I’ll go to her now, my lord.”
“Bring it in the morning,” Lord Fellstone said. “I will go to my bed.”
“Of course, my lord. Good night.” There were sounds of footsteps crossing the room, and doors opening and closing. It seemed the anteroom must now be empty.
After waiting a moment longer, Ash whispered into my ear. “I thought you were dead.” Relief flowed out of him. “The poison’s wearing off. I can see a bit.”
He helped me into a sitting position against the wall by the door. “Do you think you can stand?” he said in low tones.
I tried lifting my leg, but although I could shift its position slightly, there was still no strength in it. He turned his ear close to my lips. “No,” I managed to whisper.
Dreadmarrow Thief (The Conjurer Fellstone Book 1) Page 18