by K. M. Shea
They’re going to attack as a pair! Odette ran back up the hallway, skidding to a stop in front one of the rusted sets of armor. “I’m probably going to get a disease from this,” she grumbled. She pressed her left palm into the armor’s dust-covered sword, creating a shallow cut. She clenched that hand and squeezed out a few drops of blood.
Back at the intersection, she opened her fist like a flower and whistled.
Only one hellhound turned around, but it snarled and yapped crazily when a drop of her blood hit the floor.
The other hellhound turned from its prey, but Odette didn’t wait. She started running.
The eerie howling said they had caught a whiff of her blood and—ravenous as they were—they were hooked on her scent, out of their minds with bloodlust.
Odette sprinted up the hallway. She passed the door for the kitchens and followed the hallway as it wound outwards.
The hellhounds’ nails clicked and scrabbled across the slick floor behind her. She flung a door open, shivering as their hot, rank breath bit her heels. She slapped the door shut and zipped around the dust-covered furniture that clogged up the room.
The door buckled and then shattered when the hellhounds threw their weight against it. Odette leaped through a broken window pane and jumped, grabbing hold of one of the gargoyles on either side of the window. She reached for its head, but it had been sheared off.
Dima! You down-feathered duckling! Odette scrambled for a better hold. Her knees banged into the wall, and the rock sculpture scraped her hands.
Both the hellhounds burst through the window, snarling and growling. Odette used the gargoyle’s feet as a foothold and pushed herself up, climbing the wall.
A hellhound grabbed her by her boot heel.
Clinging to the gargoyle, she kicked at the hound’s head. Its partner snapped, eager for its own hold on her feet, and dragged the hellhound back.
She had only a second.
Odette grabbed a gargoyle perched above the headless one, taking her just out of reach of the blood-crazed beasts. Every muscle in her body quivered as they howled and circled below her, standing on their hind feet and snapping.
The second floor just out of reach, Odette tried to jump and grab the windowsill. Her fingers slipped, and she bit her tongue to keep from screaming. Her hands grasped in vain.
She was sliding down the wall.
Chapter 5
Rothbart’s Castle
“Got you!” Alexsei leaned out of the window and grabbed her by the hand before she could fall farther. She managed to rest one foot on the gargoyle’s head, but if Alexsei lost his grip on her, she would lose her balance and topple down to the hellhounds that licked their chops and paced beneath her. “Yakov—some help?”
Yakov popped his torso out of the window and grabbed Odette’s free hand. “On the count of three?”
“Yes,” Alexsei said. “One, two, three!”
At three, Odette pushed off the gargoyle’s head and let the boys pull her up—wincing from the pressure they applied to her scraped hands.
Once high enough, she set her waist on the windowsill, tugged her hands from their grasp, and wriggled inside. She fell in a heap with relief.
She heaved in deep gulps of air, and Odile fluttered around her—much prettier and calming than the giant moth that also hovered nearby.
“Are you alright?” Odile asked.
“Fine, as long as I don’t have to do that ever again.” Odette tried to get up, but the fear she had previously pushed back hit her like a tidal wave, making her muscles weak.
Alexsei crouched at her side. “Thank you for your help,” he said quietly. “I recognize that without you, we wouldn’t have made it.”
“But it was a dangerous and foolish gamble,” Yakov said.
Benno shook her head in disapproval. “Yakov.”
Odette snapped back into attention. “Dangerous and foolish? If you want to talk about dangerous and stupid, you need to reflect on your own actions first. What on earth possessed you to come here?” Anger let Odette push herself up on her feet. “Swan Lake alone is dangerous for you, but prancing into this castle—where sorcerer Rothbart lives and works—is like presenting yourself to hellhounds while slathered in blood!”
Yakov folded his arms together and scowled. “I could have defended us; I am well versed with all manners of fighting.”
“I don’t care if you were trained by the guild master of the Verglas Assassins! It is suicide for you to venture here,” Odette hissed.
Yakov scowled, but Alexsei interrupted him. “Odette is right.”
“It’s true,” Benno added.
Yakov swung around, gawping at his companions’ surprise betrayal.
“Given what we already know about Rothbart, it was foolish of us to venture into his castle,” Benno said. “I shouldn’t have let you two talk me into it—no matter how fond I am of you.”
Alexsei ran a hand through his brown-blond hair. “We came with the intention of gathering information. I see now that we underestimated Rothbart. His hellhounds are an indicator of great power.” Alexsei raised his gaze and gave her a rueful and endearing smile. “I’m sorry, Odette. We wanted to help you, and instead we made a mess of things.”
Odette stubbornly tucked her chin. I will not be moved. As the statement lacked conviction, even in her mind, she repeated it. I will not be moved! “If you were so set on gathering information, you could have interviewed Odile. She would gladly talk to you, wouldn’t you, Odile?”
“Yes, of course.” The girl hunched herself into a small target and looked like she was attempting to camouflage herself in the wall rather than take part in the argument.
“We weren’t thinking.” Alexsei took a step closer to Odette, and the angle of his mouth was a sad tilt. “We were overconfident. We’re sorry.” After a moment of silence, he looked at Yakov and raised his eyebrows.
Yakov sighed, and the angry puff of his chest collapsed. “We are,” he agreed. “Benno said it was a stupid idea; she was right.” He knelt on one knee and batted a wistful smile at Odette. “Please, allow me to beg your forgiveness.”
Odette stared down at the handsome prince kneeling in front of her and stifled the desire to kick him in his dazzling face. He’s putting on a show again because he believes it will sway me. Her eyes flickered from Yakov to Benno, and finally to Alexsei. “You will not do this again.”
“We won’t,” Yakov promised.
“If they do, I will get word to you,” Benno said.
Odette was only partially inclined to believe Yakov, but she knew Benno would stick to her word. It was Alexsei’s apologetic smile that pushed her over the edge into forgiveness. “Fine,” she sighed. “As long as you promise.”
“Indeed.” Yakov was back on his feet in an instant. “I would not have risked Benno’s safety if I had known the castle would be filled with such danger.” Odette couldn’t be sure, but she thought the concern that swirled in his eyes as he faced his close friend was genuine.
Benno shook her head at him. “Yes, you would have. You are a blockhead.”
Her words warmed the cockles of Odette’s heart, reminding her why she liked the noble lady so much. Appeased, Odette offered Odile a grin. Her friend peeled herself away from the wall and returned the smile when that unpleasantly giant moth landed on her shoulder.
Odette peered outside, cursing at the pink sky. “We have to move. We can’t go out this way.”
“Why not?” Yakov asked.
“I suspect it has something to do with the hellhounds still waiting beneath the window,” Alexsei said in a tone much more cheerful than Odette would have used. “Odette, Odile, we shall lean on your experience and knowledge. Please, lead us out.”
The moth combed its furry legs through Odile’s hair as Odile’s expression grew troubled. “Unfortunately,” she said, “the quickest way out that does not involve returning to the first floor will take us near my father’s lab. We will have to be cautious. This w
ay, please.” Odile gestured for everyone to file out in the hallway. Yakov and Benno moved immediately, but when Alexsei and Odile noticed Odette lingering by the window, they paused.
“Odette?” Alexsei asked.
She rubbed the back of her neck, but finally tore her eyes from the lightening sky. “Yes, I’m coming.”
Odile left the room and peered up and down the hallway. She chose a direction and started down it, Benno and Yakov on her heels like obedient children.
“Is something wrong?” Alexsei asked.
“It’s almost sunrise,” Odette said.
“Yes.”
“My spell activates at sunrise.”
Alexsei froze a moment, his face indescribable. He whispered something—it sounded like a string of curses—under his breath. “I forgot about the spell.” His face creased with worry. “Should you wait here for your transformation and then fly out of the window?”
Odette pressed her lips together and shook her head. “No. It’s better if we stay in a group.”
His eyes crinkled with concern. “We’ll hurry.”
They caught up to Odile, Yakov, and Benno, who stealthily tiptoed down the hallway.
Odile bit her lip in a moment of indecision. She whispered, “The fastest exit route takes the southern stairs. The next hallway contains my father’s lab. I will scout ahead. Please come, quickly and quietly, when I motion for you.”
Odette rolled her shoulders. (She would have ruffled her feathers if she were a swan.) She didn’t like venturing to Rothbart’s lab on a good day. Sneaking past it with two princes and a lady was downright stupid.
Odile scurried down the hallway and pressed her ear to the laboratory door—a pock-marked, wooden door stained with odd splashes of color and edged in iron. She motioned for them to scurry past.
Yakov went first, then Benno, Alexsei, and Odette, silently trekking past the ominous door.
Something exploded in the lab—the floor trembled.
“Run!” Odile peeled her head from the door and ran after them as if the hellhounds were on their heels again.
They sprinted down the hallway, coming upon an intersection. Yakov—at the lead—darted right instead of left, where the southern stairs lay.
“Wrong direction,” Odette started.
Odile pushed her after the trio. “Too late, we’ll have to go!”
Behind them, the door creaked as it swung open, inspiring Odette to follow in spite of the misdirection. Odile, her moth bobbing behind her, scurried to the front of their line.
Odette heard Rothbart’s heavy footsteps march down the hallway.
Her heart beat so fast it pained her, and she lost all sense of direction as Odile led them down twists and turns, trying to lose her father.
They paused in a door-less hallway and heaved gulps of air as Odile stuck her head around the corner and listened. “It’s almost like he’s following us—but he rarely comes to this part of the castle,” Odile whispered.
“Do you think he knows we are here?” Odette asked.
“No. He would have reacted the second he found out. Subtlety is not one of his arts.”
“Yeah,” Odette agreed.
Rothbart’s heavy footfalls still pursued them.
Odile turned white at the sound. “This way.” She fled farther on.
Odette cleared the corner just before Rothbart’s footsteps reached the hallway.
She sped forward, urging Benno and Alexsei to follow. They made it to the corner, where Odile fumbled with a large door.
“What is this?” Odette’s scalp prickled with fear as she peered up and down the hallway. She had never seen this part of the castle, and the door was as ominous as the door to Rothbart’s workroom.
“It is the dungeon entrance,” Odile said. She stepped back so Alexsei and Yakov could pull the door open.
“On the second floor?” Yakov grunted.
“He walled up the first floor entrance so nothing could get out without moving past him,” Odile said.
The princes opened the door, revealing a winding staircase made of dull black rock.
“You want us to go down there?” Benno asked.
“It is daunting, but there is plenty of space to hide in. Go!” Odile stepped in first and clapped her hands. With a whispered word, the red, half-used candles fastened to the walls flickered on.
Benno shivered, but she followed Yakov when he descended the stairway. Alexsei was right behind them.
Even though she could hear Rothbart’s footsteps, Odette lingered in the hallway, gazing outside at the almost completely pink sky. I have only a few minutes!
“Odette, come!” her friend hissed.
She hurried after Odile, swinging the door shut with less strength than it had taken Alexsei and Yakov to wrestle it open. They dashed down the staircase, their feet slipping on the smooth stairs.
Benno cleared the last stair, and Yakov placed his hand over her mouth. When Odette joined them, her heart spasmed, and she whipped out two daggers on instinct.
A giant creature sprawled in the middle of the dungeon, sleeping. It had putrid leathery, yellow skin, a wedged-shaped head, a blood-red frill at its throat, and a long serpent-like neck. Though she noted powerful back legs and a spiked tail, its front appendages were veined wings—the tops of which were muscled and arm-like. It was huge—about the size of a small cottage—and reeked like a half-decayed carcass.
The lizard creature slept in spite of their entrance, puffs of sickly green smoke drifting from its nostrils. An iron collar and shackles around its ankles bound it to the floor.
Even Odile pulled back in shock and revulsion at the sight of the creature. “What has he done?” she whispered.
“It’s a wyvern,” Benno whispered when Yakov removed his hand. Odette admired her fortitude—she was so frightened she couldn’t even speak. “But, I thought they were myths.”
Yakov rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Arcainia had a spot of trouble with a dragon almost two years ago, though they haven’t been seen in decades, maybe a century.”
Odette took a tottering step backwards, away from the creature. It took all of her will to keep from turning into a shuddering mess.
Alexsei moved closer to her and placed a warm hand on her upper arm, chasing away a little of the chill that swept through her. “If any legends were brought back to life, I would rather it would be the likes of the Snow Queen or the Girl of the Glass Coffin. Not these monsters,” he murmured.
The wyvern growled in its sleep—a deep, rumbling noise from within its belly, spattered with hisses. Its snarl almost masked the sound of the dungeon door grinding open.
Odette shook her head, snapping out of her fear. “We’ve got to hide!”
Rothbart’s grumbles carried down the winding staircase.
He must be struggling with the door—thank goodness!
Odile clapped, extinguishing the sputtering candles and flooding the lair with darkness.
Odette’s heart beat erratically, but the candles flicked back on almost immediately. Her relief was short lived when she heard the clank of Rothbart’s metal shoes marching down the stairs.
“Here.” Odile picked up a canvas drop-cloth, revealing wooden tables smeared and burned with magical substances.
Odette gritted her teeth, slid her daggers back into place, and scuttled under a table. Alexsei joined her, but Yakov, Odile, and Benno scurried under a larger workbench. They let the drop cloths fall back in place.
Odette shuddered and clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. As she heard Rothbart’s trudging footsteps clear the last few stairs, every muscle in her body went taut with panic and fear. It was too much—too similar to the night Rothbart had turned her into a swan. Though it had been four years, the memory still haunted her. The rancid smell of his foul magic, the pain that wracked her body as the spell settled into her bones, and the helplessness—all of it rushed her in an overwhelming wave. Enough! Get a hold of yourself. You cann
ot risk falling apart now!
She heard Rothbart plod past them and squeezed her hands into fists.
Alexsei grabbed her hand, engulfing it with his. He caressed her knuckles until she relaxed enough to open her hand, then he intertwined his fingers with hers.
Odette gazed curiously at their joined hands, then squared her shoulders and moved the drop cloth a sliver—just enough so she could see out.
Rothbart laughed—a genuine high-spirited laugh—and even spun in a circle. “My greatest creation—a wyvern! You cannot top this, Suzu.”
Why would Suzu care? Moreover, he made it? He didn’t summon it? But how?
Rothbart gazed upon the wyvern. “How sorry she’ll be when she hears what I have made. She will be so regretful she left. She’ll tremble and curse to know I was hers, and she was a fool to leave me—to not believe my power and intelligence!”
The wyvern stirred. It opened one eye—which was red like an infected wound—and struggled in its shackles. The chains groaned as it strained, but they held fast.
Enraged at its captivity, the creature tried to spear Rothbart first with its wings, then its tail. The wings were secured shut with leather strips, and its tail was shackled to the ground. The wyvern could only swipe at Rothbart with its hampered wings—which he lazily avoided.
“It’s not worth fighting when you’re restrained,” Rothbart told the creature. The joy was gone from his voice, and he sounded strangely grounded and weary. “Believe me. I would know.”
Odette’s forehead wrinkled. What is he talking about?
Rothbart meandered past the creature and strolled towards a workbench pushed against the dungeon wall. He rearranged a number of vials, then he began to carefully measure them out and pour them into a bowl.
The wyvern snorted out a puff of green smoke and twitched its pointed muzzle in Odette’s direction. It must have caught her scent, for it cast its eyes at her. It scooted towards them as much as its chains would allow and tried to stretch out with its bound wings to scoop the table under which they hid.
Fortunately, its wing couldn’t quite reach. The wyvern hissed and spit a wad of green goo that spattered on the drop cloth. It bubbled and frothed, eating through the fabric.