He flew down the stone staircase that bent toward the right and spiraled downward. It opened up in the main dungeon guard prep room. Wooden lockers, weapons racks, a couple of small tables, and wooden chairs decorated the chamber. Two guardians sat at a table facing one another, playing with a deck of cards. A quick look revealed they were playing a game of birds.
Two ravens and an eagle. A good hand. He moved behind the other guard. Three doves. A bad hand. Grey Cloak watched them push coins across the table. Hah, this fool is going to bluff. Will he fail, or is his colleague a bigger fool?
The guard with two ravens and an eagle folded. The other flopped his three doves down and grinned.
“Cheater!” shouted the guard who’d lost. He flipped over the table and pulled a knife. “It’s impossible that I would lose that many times.”
“Put that steel away, or I’ll make you eat it,” the winning guard said.
“Never!” The loser pounced.
Both men collided and fought for control of the knife.
These brutes are a short-tempered lot. The steel door with a square portal to the main dungeon was sealed shut. A key ring hung on a peg beside it. Grey Cloak opened the door while the guardians were distracted with trying to kill each other. He put the key back, slipped inside, and closed the door behind him.
The main aisle of the dungeon was lined with steel bars enclosing cells made of huge stones. An intersection created a second aisle. A large dungeon guard with a generous midsection leaned back in his chair, his back to the wall and arms crossed, as he snored.
Grey Cloak crept by him. He’s a massive one. Whew. A smelly one too.
After three more steps, he turned, and found himself looking at his brother, who sat on the floor with a serious look on his face. Grey Cloak smiled. This ought to be fun.
16
Grey Cloak felt eyes on his back and turned. He met the gaze of an older, wild-haired elven woman, and a tingle went down his spine. He moved his head and shoulders side to side. Her eyes followed him.
Can she see me?
Dyphestive climbed back to his feet. He had a metal saucer in his hands and shoved it through the crack between the bars. He let it fall and rattle to a stop on the floor.
After a quick double take between the two prisoners, Grey Cloak noticed the woman’s eyes were no longer on him but on Dyphestive. He didn’t know what to make of her. If he revealed himself, she could sound the alarm. He took a quick walk through the dungeon and noticed that the other cells were empty. When he returned, he heard Dyphestive and the woman talking quietly.
“Have you figured out what you’re going to do?” the elven woman asked.
“I don’t know. I could overpower the guards and warn Hercullon. But a lot of men would get hurt along the way,” Dyphestive replied.
“What are you going to do, rip the bars apart? They’re very thick,” she said.
Dyphestive tested the bars. “I could do it. But it would make a lot of noise. I’d have to act quick.”
“It sounds like a crude plan. You remind me of an old friend of mine, a strong, bull-headed man who wanted to fight his way through everything.” Her stare landed on Grey Cloak. “Perhaps there is a better way.”
Did she just look at me? How can she see me?
“You know, you aren’t very helpful, Tula. I think Mauk would be better.” Dyphestive scratched his head and sat back down. “I have to act now. The contest is soon.”
Grey Cloak picked up the metal plate and slowly lifted it off the ground. He tossed it up and down before Dyphestive’s widening eyes.
“Are you doing that?” Dyphestive asked Tula. “Are you a witch?”
With her arms crossed, she leaned back on her door. “Neither. I think you have a visitor.”
Grey Cloak pulled down the Scarf of Shadows and reappeared.
“Grey!” Dyphestive blurted.
The guard stirred and grumbled.
Grey Cloak pushed his hand through the bars and covered his brother’s mouth. “Sssssh.” He peeked back at the guard and saw him still sleeping. “No need to alert the entire fortress.”
“How’d you get the Scarf of Shadows?” Dyphestive asked.
“Apparently, Zora snuck it into my cloak.” He turned and looked at Tula. “Is this a friend of yours?”
“I don’t know.”
“Tula, is it?” Grey Cloak asked. “Could you see me?”
Tula shrugged. “I have a strong sense of awareness.”
“Nice to meet you. Thanks for keeping my brother company, but we have to go now.”
“I see,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you as well. I’m glad to see you have manners.”
Grey Cloak squatted down, rubbed his chin, and studied the lock. “I can have you out of here in no time. Getting you out of the Homestead is another matter, but I have a plan.”
“No, wait,” Dyphestive said. “We have to save Hercullon.”
“No, we don’t.”
Streak popped his head out of the hood. “Hello, Dyphestive.”
“Hey. Streak.” Dyphestive reached through the bars and petted the small dragon. “I need you to help me talk some sense into my brother. We have to help Hercullon. He’s being set up. They’re going to kill him.”
Streak crawled out of the hood and walked over to Tula. She reached through the bars and pet him.
“Hello, pretty lady. I’m Streak.”
“I’m Tula.” She caressed his earholes with her finger, and he rolled onto his back.
“I love that. Do my belly.”
“Streak, leave her alone,” Grey Cloak said with a sigh. “Brother, the sooner we leave this place, the better. It’s not our problem.”
“I’m not leaving.” Dyphestive crossed his arms. “We have to convince Hercullon that Sandal set him up. She wants to kill him.”
“And you know this how?”
“I don’t. It’s a guess.”
“A guess?” Grey Cloak lifted a brow and looked at Tula. “Did she plant this seed in your mind?”
“No. Well, she got me thinking. Think about it, Grey. Hercullon finds a champion to the contest, and all of a sudden, the champion gets locked up. Hercullon can’t win the fight. He has a bad leg. They’re setting him up. I know it in my gut.”
Grey Cloak leaned his head back and sighed. He’d heard the guardians talking about Hercullon earlier. Even they didn’t have faith in their leader winning. What Dyphestive said made sense. “Even if you are right, it’ll be difficult to prove it to Hercullon.”
Dyphestive pushed his face against the bars. “Find Sandal and Lorry. They have to be behind this.”
He nodded. “I’ll do it.” He picked up Streak and looked at Tula. “Stop planting seeds in my brother’s head, please.”
Tula smirked. “He did it all on his own. Can your little dragon stay with me? I like his company.”
Grey Cloak gave her a doubtful look, shook his head, lifted the scarf over his nose, and disappeared.
17
Grey Cloak stole through the Culpepper Homestead, searching for Hercullon and Sandal’s quarters. On cat’s feet, he moved up a grand staircase, passing servants along the way. Once he made his way to the top, he moved down the hallway. A long carpet covered the floor, and rooms with closed doors stood behind high archways. Between each door was a bust of a man on a pedestal, with a painting of the conquering hero slaying a beast behind it.
Each large painting stood out on its own—Herculean men carrying great swords and battle axes as they slew terrifying monsters and beasts. Blood dripped from steel. Iron-hard muscles bulged beneath bronzed skin. Where evil once stood, a good man hewed it down. The Culpeppers were men of renown, but it appeared that legacy was about to end.
Two bronze doors underneath a grand archway stood waiting at the end of the hall. A pair of Homestead Guardians stood sentinel. The muscular warriors wore metal headbands and sword belts over loincloth and carried ancient spears.
Grey Cloak passed his
hand in front of their eyes. They didn’t blink.
This has to be Hercullon’s quarters.
He took a knee and pressed his ear to the door. He heard voices inside, more than one, but the door was thick, and he couldn’t make out the words, though one voice was deeper than the rest.
I need to get in there.
One of the guardians shifted on his feet.
Grey Cloak noticed the man looking in his direction. He didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. The guardian turned his gaze away and looked straight back down the hall.
The double doors opened inward. Hercullon stood inside the room, towering over Sandal and Lorry. He wore a wolf-fur cape over his wide shoulders, a loincloth, and fur boots. “The contest has been moved up to tomorrow. I need to train.”
Sandal hurried over to him and threw her arms over his shoulders. She wore a silky black robe, and her fingernails and toenails were painted black. “My love, you are so brave and so strong. I know you will be victorious.”
Hercullon nodded. “We have no other choice.” He kissed her on the forehead. “No matter what, my love, you will be safe. I promise.”
Grey Cloak quickly crawled into the room.
“I’ll always stand by you.” Sandal stroked the long silvery-blond braids in her hair. “Train well, my love.”
Hercullon headed down the hall with a noticeable limp in his step. One of the sentries went with him.
Sandal closed them inside, leaned against the split in the doors, and said to Lorry, “And if all goes to plan, my husband will die tomorrow, and Ice Vale will be ours.”
Lorry raked his fingers through his oily hair. “Long live Black Frost.”
Grey Cloak’s heart skipped. I knew that man was sleazy.
Sandal walked right up to Lorry and fully kissed him.
Ew! I really didn’t see that coming. I need to wash my eyes.
She moved the smaller man toward the bed and pushed him onto the mattress. She pounced on him the same way she had Grey Cloak.
This seems very familiar and even more awkward. I might gag.
Streak whispered in his ear, “This is the same as the last time.”
Sandal stopped kissing Lorry. She sat up with her back rigid. “Did you hear that?”
“The only thing I hear is my heart pounding,” Lorry replied.
“Shush!” A dagger appeared in her hand. She climbed off the large bed, narrowed her eyes, and prowled the room. “I swear I heard something.” She looked right over Grey Cloak, who was huddled beside a wardrobe. She moved straight toward it.
Zooks. She sees me.
Without warning, Sandal flung open the wardrobe doors. She rummaged through the garments.
“No need to be jumpy,” Lorry said, “but I’d be happy to check under the bed. No one’s there.” He patted the mattress. “Please, come back, while we have a moment to ourselves.”
“The moment’s passed.” She closed the wardrobe and tucked her dagger away in a sheath on her inner thigh.
Grey Cloak did a double take between the two. Her and him. I don’t understand it. Scrawny and gruesome meets savage beauty. They’d probably have gorgeous children.
Sandal strolled back toward the bed. “With so much at stake, I’m not going to take any chances. We’re so close to taking Ice Vale for ourselves.”
“After all the planning I’ve done to make this come together—hah—I’m not about to let it be undone. I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life. I hate the barbarians.” Unmistakable hatred burned in Lorry’s gaze. “The dullards have served their purpose. Now the time has come to wipe them out.”
“Yes, the Culpepper legacy will be wiped out, and so will the Wolves in the Rocks unless they cooperate.” She sat down behind her vanity and began undoing her braids. “I must admit, I’ll be sad to see them go. They’ve been entertaining.”
“The entertainment isn’t over yet. It will be fun seeing Hercullon getting the blood beat out of him.” Lorry slid over the bed, moved in behind her, and helped her undo her braids. “I hate the braids. They aren’t you.”
She smiled. “I know, but Hercullon likes it.” She looked at Lorry through the vanity mirror. “So, what are we going to do about our prisoner? We can’t leave the likes of him alive very long.”
“Agreed. Don’t worry. We’ll take care of him once Hercullon is gone.” Lorry massaged her shoulders. “Or we’ll let him rot in the dungeons. You know, starve him to death. There are so many ways to take a man apart.”
Grey Cloak felt his cheeks warm and tamped down the urge to send them to an early grave. This pair is diabolical.
“A man like that won’t be easy to take down,” Sandal said. “Neither will his elven brother. They’re special, given they took down White Ice. No ordinary men could do that.”
You got that right.
“Oh, I know,” Lorry replied. “If we get rid of one, I don’t think we’ll have to worry about the other. The elf will have to move on. Either that or fight the forces of Dark Mountain. I don’t think anyone has the stones to do that.”
You got that wrong, you dirty bootlicker.
“Our moment of triumph is near.” Lorry leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Nothing can stop us now.”
Grey Cloak simmered. We’ll see about that.
18
“Tell me, Dyphestive, how long have you and your brother been brothers?” Tula asked.
He sat with his back leaning against the bars, listening to Mauk’s rhythmic snoring. “All of my life, I suppose. It’s hard to say because I can’t remember being without him.”
“I see.” She tapped on the metal bars with her fingernail. “It’s obvious that you are different, so I’m curious how you came to be brothers?”
“We made a pact when we were young and became blood brothers. We couldn’t trust anyone but each other.”
“Interesting. Where were you raised?”
“Why do you care?”
“I’m only making conversation. And why wouldn’t I? After all, I’m hoping you’ll free me.”
He turned his head and gave her a sideways glance. “Don’t get your hopes up. We don’t even know what you’re in here for. Maybe you killed someone.”
“Do I look like a killer?”
“I’ve known killers far less intimidating than you.”
“You find me intimidating?” she asked in her smooth, confident voice.
“Only compared to the others I’ve known.”
“Well, if I’d killed someone, the Culpeppers would have killed me. They’re quick to dispense justice. I’d be buried in a frozen hole with my head in my lap. Unless they fed me to the wolves, then I’d be a dung heap… eventually.”
He scrunched his nose. “That’s an awful way of putting it.”
“Everyone returns to the dirt eventually. It’s inevitable.” She cleared her throat. “But if it makes you more comfortable, I was a servant, and they caught me stealing.”
“Great. A thief.” He nodded. “What did you steal?”
“Only a few baubles.”
“From where?”
“One of Sandal’s jewelry boxes.” She gave a proud look. “I was cleaning her quarters when she caught me. I couldn’t help myself. I have a hungry eye when it comes to jewelry, and she had so much. I didn’t think she’d miss a little.” She dangled a gold-and-emerald bracelet between the bars. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
He couldn’t hide his incredulity. “How do you have that?”
“They didn’t find everything I took. I’m a pretty good thief. But the guardians shook most of it out of me.” She chuckled. “You should have seen Sandal. She was furious. She wanted me killed on the spot, but Hercullon spared me.”
“What will happen?”
“They’ll hold a trial. Usually in cases such as mine, they cut off the thief’s fingers or hands.” She spread her long, elegant fingers. “You can’t steal what you can’t pick up.”
Dyphestive turned his back. “Well, you’re
still a thief, and it’s not our business.”
“True, true…” Her voice trailed off. She leaned back against the bars. “I take full responsibility for my mistakes. I should have known better. But a girl can’t always help herself, and the way I saw it, Sandal is a bad person.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Servants see a lot of things. We overhear whispers and low conversations. Sometimes, people speak as if we aren’t even there. They say the most outrageous things. I’m ashamed for them.”
“And I’m ashamed for you, thief.”
“Why are you giving me grief? I’ve been nothing but cordial to you, have I not?”
“That’s only because you want me to help you escape. Well, I have bigger problems.”
“You can say that again.” Grey Cloak reappeared. Sweat glistened on his face as he pulled the scarf down.
Dyphestive scrambled to his feet and pushed his nose through the bars. “Spill it.”
“Everything you said earlier was right. I heard Sandal and Lorry admit to everything. What’s worse is they’re working for Black Frost,” Grey Cloak said. “And worse than that was that Sandal and Lorry kissed.”
“Ew,” Dyphestive and Tula said.
“I know. You don’t ever want to see that. Creepy little—”
Dyphestive seized his brother’s cloak. “Will you stop talking and get me out of here, or will I have to do it myself?”
“I will, but we need a plan.”
Streak popped his head out. “I have one. I’m a witness. Let me tell Hercullon my side of the story.”
Grey Cloak shoved Streak back into the hood. “He won’t believe you. He won’t believe any of us. That’s the problem. But the contest was moved up to tomorrow, and if we don’t stop it, he’ll be dead, and Dark Mountain will take over.”
“We can’t let that happen.” Dyphestive gave a heavy sigh.
“I agree, but consider this: What if it’s meant to happen? What if it happened already?” Grey Cloak asked.
“No.” Dyphestive shook his head. “Even so, we have to make it right. We’re here for a reason.”
Barbarian Backlash: Dragon Wars - Book 14 of 20: An Epic Sword and Sorcery Fantasy Adventure Series Page 6