The Tale of Mally Biddle

by M. L. LeGette

“We must speak to him,” Mally pressed when Edwin didn’t respond. “We have information, Edwin.”

  Edwin’s wide eyes flickered once more to the stairs clearly leading to his mother’s room. He swallowed.

  “I’ll take you.”

  In seconds they were back on the cobbled road, Mally and Lita hurrying behind a slightly feverish Edwin.

  “I’m not supposed to know where they meet,” Edwin explained in a tense whisper. “I followed Galen one night and I swear, I thought he was going to hit me. I’d never seen him so angry.” Edwin’s legs moved in a rapid, erratic half-walk, half-jog. He led them down a narrow alley way and stopped before a dirty door. Nervously, he licked his lips, perspiration beading on his forehead. He lifted a clammy hand to the thin chain hanging beside the doorframe.

  He pulled.

  Down in the cave-like room where the rebel members sat around a large table, Cian Raghnall stopped in mid sentence when a small bell sounded in the room. Moving as one, each head turned to the small iron bell nailed to the wall. All breathing seemed to cease as they watched the bell’s movements slow, its sharp ringing fading into the silence. Adam Thain turned from the bell and nodded to Garren who rose. The pair of them drew swords and quickly but silently climbed the stairs to the door, leaving the others behind at the table. All the rebel members were accounted for. No one else knew of their location. It could simply be a stranger, searching for a place to stay. But it could just as easily be a band of knights.

  They had reached the door and Garren glanced at Adam for final instructions. Adam nodded again, gripping his sword tightly.

  “Who goes there?” Garren demanded through the door.

  “Edwin Dunker with Mally Biddle and Lita Stump. We are unarmed.”

  Adam and Garren exchanged surprised glances. A Dunker boy? With the spy? And who was Stump? Curious, but not relinquishing his hold on his sword, Adam nodded to Garren. Garren unlatched the many locks.

  After Edwin had rung the bell, Mally busied herself by keeping watch. It was much too dark to see either end of the narrow alley. Then a gruff voice sounded through the door. Mally’s head spun around as Edwin replied. For someone so young, Edwin impressed Mally. He was terrified—that was obvious—but his voice came out strong and clear. The door opened and a muscled man stood in the doorway. He quickly ushered them inside where another hard-looking man stood. It didn’t escape her notice that they both held swords.

  “What is your business?” asked the man who stood to the side as the other latched numerous locks.

  It seemed that Edwin had used up the last of his courage for he just stared wide-eyed at the glaring man. Lita looked pointedly at Mally.

  “We have information about the princess,” Mally supplied in her companions’ silence.

  The man’s eyes widened under his bushy eyebrows. In one swift movement, he sheathed his sword.

  “My name is Adam Thain. I am one of the rebel leaders. You are Biddle, correct?”

  Mally stared at him in surprise.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Ivan pointed you out to me,” Adam nodded. For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, his eyes lingering on Lita. Mally wondered if only she would be allowed any farther—if he would shove Lita and Edwin back through the door. But then his gaze hardened and he addressed the three of them, “Come.”

  He led them swiftly down a narrow, dark hallway and then down a set of stairs. At the end of the stairs he opened a door. Candlelight momentarily blinded Mally. Blinking quickly to adjust her eyes, she heard a startled shout.

  “Edwin!”

  Mally only had a second to take in the room she, Edwin, and Lita had been led to before Galen rushed to them, Ivan on his heels. It was a dreary, grey, stone room filled with men, all of whom also moved forward, though at a slower pace. Mally saw more than one casually place a hand on the sword hilt at his hip.

  “What are you doing here?” Galen demanded, his eyes jumping from his brother to Mally to Lita and back again.

  “We asked him to bring us,” Mally answered quickly. She didn’t want Edwin to get in trouble.

  “And who are you?”

  Mally turned to see a sneering man with his arms crossed formidably.

  “Mally Biddle,” Mally replied crisply.

  “Adam, perhaps another room?” Ivan suggested, cutting a wary glance at the rest of the group who were all staring at Mally and Lita with growing curiosity.

  “Yes, perhaps …” Adam agreed slowly. He raised his eyebrows, looking specifically at the oldest man in the room. “We won’t be long,” he told the rest.

  At his words, a few of the others surged forward, arguing. But the man with the folded arms simply glared daggers at the lot of them, his mouth twisting into an ugly grimace. Adam dropped a hand onto Mally’s shoulder and steered her to a door on the other side of the room. Ivan, Galen, Lita, Edwin, and the old man followed closely. Mally heard the old man say something to the rest of the rebels as he closed the door behind him—shutting out their demands.

  They were now in a much smaller room and Adam quickly lit a handful of candles. Three moth-eaten and molding chairs were the only furniture.

  Ivan immediately jumped forward.

  “What happened?”

  He must have thought that Mally’s appearance—after he had told her never to seek out the rebels—meant something terrible must have happened. Everyone in the tiny room was staring at the three of them. Lita, it seemed, had left what bravery she had in the room with the angry rebels, and Edwin cut a nervously meek glance at Mally.

  “Well?” Ivan pressed.

  Mally licked her lips, glancing at Lita.

  “We were just in the catacombs.” If Mally hadn’t been so tense, she would have laughed at the reaction her words brought. Each one of the men’s expressions were identical. Open mouthed, wide-eyed shock. They looked as if she had just informed them that she and Lita had run about the castle naked, screaming “Long live the king” at the top of their voices.

  “How?” Adam finally gasped. “Romore and Molick are the only ones with keys.”

  Mally shook her head. They shouldn’t be out of the castle much longer—there would be time to explain everything later.

  “That’s not important—”

  Lita snorted.

  Mally looked at her friend in surprise. Lita was still an unhealthy shade of gray, but amusement glittered in her light brown eyes and a hint of an exasperated smile touched her lips. Mally felt her own lips curve.

  “Mally!” Ivan snapped impatiently.

  “What is important is that we got in,” Mally continued, addressing the men again. “And we found Princess Avona’s tomb.”

  “And?” asked Galen.

  Mally inhaled. “It was empty.”

  The old man collapsed into one of the chairs, a hand over his eyes. Triumph swelled in Ivan’s face.

  “Now what?” he asked Adam.

  But Adam was far from jubilant.

  “This doesn’t change anything, Ivan. Princess Avona could have been killed elsewhere.”

  Ivan spun around to Mally and Lita.

  “Do you have any proof that she’s alive?”

  An embarrassed sinking weight filled Mally’s chest. She saw Lita out of the corner of her eye scuffle her shoes.

  “No,” Mally said quietly.

  “Nothing?” Ivan demanded, his voice weak.

  Mally couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. She dropped her eyes to her feet, feeling so horribly stupid for dragging Lita and Edwin all this way for information that now seemed completely useless. The overwhelming excitement of drugging Molick and sneaking into a sealed chamber had erased all rational thought.

  A loud crash that made everyone jump suddenly sounded behind the door. For one wild moment, Mally thought the other rebels had given up on patience and were ramming their way in. But her senses caught up with her as she heard the shouting. The door burst open and the strongly muscled man who had let them in emerged.
/>   “Cian! Adam! The knights are here!”

  Mally stood frozen as Adam and the old man—who must have been named Cian—charged out of the room without a backwards glance.

  “Move!”

  Ivan grabbed Mally and Lita by the arm and ran into the main room. Galen was right behind them, a terrified Edwin in tow. The rebels had rushed the stairs, and from the clashing of sword on sword, were apparently fighting the knights in the hall. They were the only ones in the room.

  “How do we get out?” asked Lita, spinning on the spot, trying to find an exit.

  “We—Garren!” Ivan cried as the man who had warned them tumbled down the stairs to their feet unconscious, a nasty, bloody gash on his forehead.

  “There’s a window up the stairs,” Galen yelled to them as the shouts and clanging increased in volume. The rebels were being forced back. “Up the stairs. Come on!”

  Between the two of them, Galen and Ivan lifted Garren. But they would never be able to defend themselves if a knight broke through the rebels and charged them.

  “Give me your sword,” Mally demanded. Ivan looked at her as if she had lost her mind. But Mally didn’t wait for a reply. With Ivan’s arms preoccupied, she tugged it free of its sheath.

  “What are you doing?!” Ivan yelled, his mouth finally catching up with his eyes.

  “Which way is the window?” Mally asked, ignoring Ivan.

  “Up the stairs to the left,” Galen answered. He shifted his weight slightly and pulled out his own sword, passing it to Lita. She looked a little surprised but took it without hesitation. “Edwin, stay next to me,” Galen ordered.

  Edwin looked like wandering off was the last thing on his mind.

  With their heavy load, Galen and Ivan moved up the stairs, Mally and Lita in front of them. Mally gripped Ivan’s sword in her sweaty hand. She had no idea how to use a sword. Its weight was the only thing keeping her hand from shaking.

  Halfway up the narrow stairs, Mally and Lita tensed as they heard a clamor. Then one of the rebels was falling head over feet toward them. Unlike Garren, he was not unconscious.

  “Egan!” Galen yelled.

  Egan shook his head, perhaps to get the blood out of his eyes. He grabbed hold of Edwin’s hand and tried to stand before cursing and doubling over—a hand pressed tightly to his thigh.

  “There are too many of them,” Egan bit out.

  “We have to get to the window,” Mally ordered, her stomach twisting at the sight of Egan’s bloody leg. “Edwin, Lita. Help him.”

  They lifted Egan between them and once more traveled up the remaining stairs. Upon reaching the landing, Mally’s heart rate tripled. The rebels were fighting tooth and nail in the tiny hallway. But there was so little room to maneuver. Only two rebels could stand at the front and battle against two knights before they fell back and two more took their place. The knights were steadily pushing their way farther into the hall, the rebels coming closer to the stairwell.

  “The window!” Galen shouted in Mally’s ear.

  She jumped—she’d been in some sort of panicked trance, watching the fighting. She turned to the left away from the rebels and knights and came upon a window. Tossing the sword aside, Mally pushed the window open and stepped back. Lita jumped out first into a deserted alley. The knights were attacking the front of the building, while they were escaping out the side.

  Lita turned back to the window and raised her hands to help Egan out. After Egan had dropped the short distance, Edwin climbed through. Galen and Ivan lifted a still unconscious Garren through the window and Lita and Edwin managed to catch him.

  “We have to get the others out,” said Galen, but before they could reply a terrified shout was heard over the yelling and clanging of swords—a shout that made Mally, Ivan, and Galen’s heads whip around.

  “CIAN!”

  Mally didn’t understand what had happened. She could barely see anything in the dark hallway. Her brain couldn’t form a reply to Lita’s panicked shouts outside the window, demanding to know what had happened. What she did understand was that Ivan had just retrieved his sword from the floor and had rushed straight into the commotion.

  “Ivan!”

  Mally made to go after him, but Galen’s arms were suddenly wrapped around her.

  “Galen, let me go! Let me go!” Mally screamed, clawing and straining against his hold.

  “I’ll get him,” Galen panted into her ear, fighting just as hard to keep his hold on her. “Go through the window.” He released her and jumped into the fray.

  Mally stumbled backwards until she bumped into the window frame. Shaking from head to foot, she climbed through it and joined the others.

  “Where’s Galen?” Edwin shouted and when Mally didn’t reply he rushed at the window, but Mally grabbed hold of his shirt.

  “Let me go!” Edwin snarled.

  In the deep recess of her mind, Mally found it interesting and ironic that she was now doing to Edwin just what Galen had done to her.

  “Mally!”

  Edwin stopped struggling at the exact same second that Mally let go of his shirt. Their heads both jerked up to the window where Galen and another rebel who appeared uninjured climbed down to them. Mally’s heart nearly stopped.

  They didn’t have Ivan.

  “Where’s Ivan?” Mally demanded.

  “Where’s Adam? Cian?” Egan shouted.

  “Captured” Galen answered thickly.

  “Captured?” Egan repeated hoarsely. He swayed on his feet and Lita quickly took hold of him.

  “We need to move, the knights will see us in seconds.” Galen looked close to retching. He turned his pale and suddenly hard face to Edwin.

  “Take them to Maud’s,” Galen ordered. “I’m going to get Mom and I’ll be right there.”

  “But—” Edwin started, looking beyond terrified. “We should stay together. We’ll all go—”

  “Don’t argue with me, Edwin!” Galen shouted, making everyone around him flinch and stare. Mally had never seen Galen like this and from the looks of those around her, she wasn’t alone. “Take them to Maud.”

  And with the fiercest glare Mally had ever seen, he ran past them in the direction of the Lone Candle. For a moment the lot of them just stared at each other before Edwin swallowed and said, “Come on!”

  Edwin wrapped an arm under Egan’s, Mally and Lita and the rebel who’d jumped down from the window with Galen grabbed a still unconscious Garren. As quickly as they could, they hobbled down the alley.

  No one spoke. Only their heavy breathing filled their ears. Edwin was in the lead of what looked to Mally like some bizarre troop—bloody and torn, wide-eyed and terrified, all painfully shuffling one after the other as quickly as possible. Mally’s shoulders ached from Garren’s weight and she was beyond thankful that the rebel was helping them carry him. Her legs screamed; her head pounded. She was excruciatingly aware of how long they were taking.

  “Knights!” Edwin hissed and they all pressed themselves against the shadowy wall of a store.

  A group of ten knights walked across the street a few yards before them. With a twisting of her stomach that made her want to vomit, Mally thought of Galen—alone. Edwin had been right. They shouldn’t have separated. It was too dangerous.

  How had this happened? How could she have been stupid enough to take such a risk? They were no closer to discovering the truth of the princess and now, thanks to her idiocy, the entire rebel force was captured! Mally’s stomach turned. It was all her fault. How had the knights known where they were? Had she and Lita and Edwin been followed? But that was ridiculous, Mally argued. No one had followed them—they would have known if they had been. Wouldn’t they?

  But the whirling in Mally’s brain suddenly took another turn as they stepped before number 113. This time she couldn’t see the display on the other side of the glass, for all the candles in the apothecary had been extinguished, but Mally knew the skulls and carvings were still there. And not for the first time since G
alen’s departure, she wondered why they had been sent here.

  Edwin, still supporting Egan, walked with difficulty up the two stone steps and knocked four times, with a deliberate pause between each knock, on Maud’s door.

  29 The Doctor's Declaration

  They shivered. A cat yowled in the shadows. Mally wasn’t sure she could stand much longer. They didn’t speak. They didn’t move. They just stared at the door. Mally didn’t understand why they were even here—would Maud heal their wounds? Mally wouldn’t have placed any bets that Maud would willingly help anyone—she didn’t seem the type. But she willed with every ounce of her being for that door to open. Then, quite suddenly, it did.

  “Quickly,” Mally heard Maud rasp. Edwin helped Egan limp over the threshold and Mally and the others followed.

  Maud stood stooped in an old, grey nightgown, the hems frayed, her feet in moth-eaten slippers. A single candle shined light from her claw-like hand, making the lines upon her face stand out even more sharply. She gave them all one piercing stare over her hooked nose.

  “Follow me.”

  Mally stared after Maud’s retreating back startled. Maud didn’t seem at all surprised that a group of wounded people stood in her shop. She led them behind the counter and down a few narrow, rickety steps that groaned and bent with their weight. They stood in a very small kitchen.

  A small mug and a chipped plate with a half-eaten roll sat alone on a tiny table. On the floor was a heavy rug, its rusty reds faded to rusty pinks. Maud moved to a narrow table against the wall where a battered tea service was set up. She pointed to Edwin and the other rebel.

  “You two. Push this aside.”

  Mally, Lita and the rebel carefully lowered Garren to the floor and Egan collapsed in the only chair at the table, white hands clutching his blood-stained leg. Lita rushed to him and murmured something soothing in his ear. He nodded, biting his lip, eyes screwed up in pain. Mally was amazed he was still conscious, with the amount of blood he was losing. From the paleness of his face, she wondered how much longer it would be before he gave up and lost consciousness.

  “Quickly!” Maud snapped.