by Joshua Khan
“You’re an idiot, Thorn.”
“The only idiot in this room is the one heading off to fight trolls for no good reason.” Thorn scowled. “You’ll end up on the spit, like Baal.”
Wade slammed Thorn against the wall, right off his feet. His words came out hard through his gritted teeth. “You say that about Baal again, and I’ll cut your heart out.”
Thorn stared at Wade, shocked. He’d never seen him so wild with rage. Wade was the most easygoing person he knew.
Wade trembled with fury, and Thorn didn’t doubt his threat. He looked ready to kill.
Old Colm taught the squires until they were sixteen. He’d finish their training with real experience by handing them over to one of the Black Guard. They’d take them into their first battle, and if they did well and earned a few scars, they’d become one of the Black Guard themselves. But that was still three years away for Wade.
Thorn often joined the debates about who would serve whom, when their time came. No one wanted to squire for Earl Grave, or Early Grave, as the boys called him. Three of his squires had died in as many years, the last having been eaten by an ogre. A couple had their eye on Sir Tartarus, a proper old-fashioned knight who rode a big warhorse and wielded a twenty-foot lance.
But everyone knew Wade was going to serve Baron Sable, or one of Sable’s sons. Sable always tipped Wade for doing even the smallest chores. His horses were always tended by Wade. His sons gave him extra lessons when they were around, and Wade did all the carrying and fetching for Sable when he stayed at Castle Gloom. That armor he was wearing right now was probably one of Sable’s hand-me-downs. It had been like that since Thorn had arrived, and he’d never really thought about it. Until now.
“Put me down, Wade,” said Thorn. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Wade freed him. “I’m going to the Troll-Teeth, and that’s all there is to know.”
“I need you at Malice,” Thorn urged. “That’s where the problem really is.”
“And how do you know?”
“Lord Shadow told me.”
Wade stopped. “Lord Shadow? I thought he was trapped in the library.”
“He came to me in a dream. He told me that we needed to go to Malice.”
Wade tried not to laugh. “I should follow you because you had a dream?”
“It wasn’t like that. It was Lord Shadow, for real. In a dream.”
“Riiight.” Wade unsheathed his sword. He flipped his whetstone from his bedside table and set to work sharpening the edge. “This is all about Lady Shadow. You’ll do anything to impress her.”
“It’s nothing like that.” Thorn sat down on his bed and drew one of his arrows from his quiver to check the fletching. “Lily believes me.”
“I’m sure Lily does. That’s the problem. Your blood isn’t black, and yet you’re the one meeting Lord Shadow. Nobody else is. Why’s that?” Wade spun the sword, about to start on the opposite edge. “I’ll tell you why: so you can seem important to Lily. This trip to Malice, now that’s a fool’s errand.”
“And how big a difference are you going to make to Baron Sable’s army? One thirteen-year-old squire?”
“It’s not about making a difference. It’s just…I need to go, Thorn.”
“I knew you Gehennish were loyal, but this is something more.” Thorn paused. “What is it?”
“What it is is none of your business.”
Thorn looked hard at the boy across the room. Wade was a Castle Gloom squire, but he wasn’t a fool, anything but. Yet he was willing to go fight a troll army, just because of Baron Sable and Baal. Thorn came from a small village. Life was dangerous enough without risking it needlessly. There were only a few souls Thorn was willing to die for.
His sisters, his brothers. Mom and Dad.
Thorn paused. That was it. His list wasn’t so long.
Always family. They always came first. That was how he’d been brought up.
And that was how he’d ended up in Gehenna. He’d gone looking for his dad and eventually found him. His family would be here in the spring, when his dad became the new huntsman at Castle Gloom.
Family first, last, and always. Lily was the same—being a Shadow meant everything to her.
“What’s the baron to you, Wade?” asked Thorn. “What’s Baal to you? It ain’t about the tips, that’s for sure.”
Wade shifted uneasily. “I said it’s none of your business.”
“Who is the baron to you?” Thorn asked, not willing to let it go now that he had scented a mystery. They’d swapped plenty of stories since they’d shared a room. But Wade had never mentioned his dad. Thorn had assumed he was dead.
“You’ve a lot to learn about nobility, Thorn.”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
Wade glanced at the door, as if he was expecting the baron to come in. “The baron looks after me because we’re…related.”
“Related? How?”
Wade lightly tapped Thorn on the forehead. “Sometimes you just can’t see what’s right in front of you. He’s my father.”
Suddenly a whole lot of little things now made a whole lot of sense. Thorn should have seen it earlier, but he hadn’t been looking.
“Hold on. If he’s your dad, then what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be back at Sable Manor?”
Wade swiped down his upper lip awkwardly. “The thing is, the baron’s my father, but his wife, Baroness Suriya, she isn’t my mother.”
“Ah, right.” He remembered now. Wade’s mother was a fisherwoman.
“My mom lives down on the coast. The baron used to visit her village to go sailing and fishing. One thing led to another…” Wade patted his purse. “He’s been good to us. Mom gets a yearly stipend, and when I was old enough, he got me a position here. Work hard, join the Black Guard, maybe become a captain one day. It’s better than a life spent gutting fish.”
“And the baron? And his other sons?”
“They look out for me. It’s good to have brothers like them.” Wade smiled. “I’m not the only natural son, or daughter, serving around Castle Gloom. Most of us have black blood. Or at least blood that’s dark gray. For peasants like me, this is the best chance, probably the only chance, of bettering myself.”
“Does anyone else know?”
Wade shrugged as he slid his sword back into the scabbard. “Lord Shadow did. Maybe a few others suspect, but no one says anything.”
“But why are you just serving as a squire? Couldn’t the baron get you a better position? The steward’s a cushy job, and he runs the whole castle. Work for him. Warm, indoors, plenty of food.”
Wade’s eyes narrowed. “I want to make a name for myself, Thorn. Not borrow someone else’s.”
“A name written in troll blood, right?”
“You’re not from around here, Thorn. You don’t know. The trolls have kept to themselves for years, but that was when Lord Iblis was alive. Now that he’s gone, they’re becoming bolder. People are disappearing, and the trolls need to be taught a lesson.”
“It ain’t trolls.”
“You don’t know everything, Thorn.”
Thorn looked at the small writing box beside his bed, a gift from Lily. Black-lacquered and inlaid with onyx, it had a small silver inkpot and a fistful of hardly used quills. He sighed. “That’s true enough.”
Wade strapped on his sword belt. He had a certain way of doing it, pulling the belt up, wriggling it around his hips, then tightening it another notch before looping the end through. Just like Baron Sable.
There was no way Thorn was going to change his friend’s mind. He handed Wade his rucksack. “At least do one thing for me.”
Wade raised a questioning eyebrow.
“If there’s any real fighting, run away.”
“When did you ever run from a fight?” Wade said, hefting the rucksack over his shoulder. “I have a favor to ask of you, too.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t steal any of my stuff.” Wade grinned.
Then he left.
Things were going from bad to worse. Thorn looked around the room. Wade’s remaining stuff was neat and tidy. On his pillow rested his book, The Adventures of Sir Blackheart. Wade read it to him most nights.
He’ll be back.
He’d better be back.
Thorn wiped his eyes. He needed Wade to tell him how the story ended.
Grandpa always said it wasn’t the bear at your front you should worry about, but the wolf behind you. He’d been counting on Wade to watch out for him.
Now what was he going to do?
Saddlebags slung over one shoulder, his bow and quiver on the other, Thorn headed to the stables. He ignored the dark looks from the older squires practicing their sword drill in the courtyard. Thorn couldn’t be trusted; he was a “troll friend.”
Thorn just wanted to leave with no fuss, no trouble. If he traveled quickly, he’d be in Malice late tomorrow. Cook had given him two pies, each stuffed with onion, lamb, and turnips. She treated him well; they had a small business going. Thorn trapped rabbit and the occasional bird for her, and she gave him extra helpings and first pick of her belly-bursting tarts, one of which he had carefully wrapped and stowed at the top of the saddlebag.
It would be good to get out of the castle for a few days. He opened the stable doors.
And found Lily and Dott waiting.
“You took your time,” said Lily. Zephyr was saddled already. Dott sat on a pile of kitchenware, and there was a wardrobe-sized rucksack leaning against a post. She clapped as Thorn entered. “My mate T’orn!”
“Going somewhere, Princess?” Thorn walked over to Thunder and checked the stitches on the horse’s flanks. The odor of the healing salve was as foul as ever, but the stitches were as neat as any dressmaker’s.
“Malice,” said Lily.
“No, you ain’t,” said Thorn.
“Wait.” Lily cleaned out her ear. “I must have heard that wrong. That sounded like an order, but it couldn’t be. Thorn doesn’t give orders, because someone else is in charge. Hmm…who could that be?” She looked up at Dott. “Who do you think?”
Dott frowned.
Lily coughed and pointed at herself.
Dott grinned. “Prin’ess! Prin’ess is in charge, T’orn!”
“It could be dangerous.” Thorn led Thunder out of the pen.
“Good thing we’ll be there to protect you, then.”
Why, oh why did she have to be so stubborn about everything? Thorn never won these arguments, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try. “Haven’t you got work to be doing here? Servants needing ordering around and stuff?”
“The steward and Old Colm can manage just fine without me for a few days.” Lily took a deep breath. “I feel so useless here, Thorn. I can’t get into the library, can’t use it for research or to contact my father. I need to get out of Gloom if I’m to sort out our troubles.”
“You’ve left Old Colm in charge? Things must be bad.”
Lily looked uneasy. “I’ve arranged some…reinforcements to replace the soldiers Baron Sable took to the Teeth. Old Colm’s going to train them.”
“Reinforcements from where?”
“Never you mind.”
Thorn hauled the saddle over. “You really need to wear all that jewelry? We’re going to investigate these magical spiders, not attend a royal wedding.”
“I’m hardly wearing any jewelry,” said Lily. “Just a few rings. A couple of necklaces. One or two, maybe three bracelets. And these armbands are just to hold my sleeves up. They don’t count.”
“What are those things in your hair?”
“Hairpins.”
“With diamonds in them?”
“Very small diamonds.”
“You really do have an answer for everything, don’t you?”
“My mother said a lady should have three things, Thorn: grace, wit, and a hero willing to die for her.”
“Two out of three ain’t bad, I suppose.” Thorn faced her. “And it ain’t just that. I’m not sure I’m right about Malice.”
“What do you mean? My father told you to go there.”
“Did he really? It was a dream, Lily. Maybe that’s all it was,” he said, thinking of what Wade had said.
Lily shook her head. “No, it was my father. Had you ever heard about the jewel spiders before?”
“No….Was that story true? About an infestation, long ago?”
Lily nodded. “I asked a few of the servants. They remembered trouble in Malice about twenty years past. I’ve also checked some of our records. You were right—there had been a plague of jewel spiders back then.”
Just like he’d been told in his dream. Maybe it had been Iblis Shadow after all.
Lily continued. “Did you even know there was a town called Malice?”
“I don’t think so, but maybe I heard someone talk about it and forgot. Maybe I just plucked it out of my sleeping head at random.”
“Well, I believe you,” said Lily. “And that’s all that matters.”
“And what if I’m wrong? What if we go there and there ain’t nothing to find?”
Lily waved her hand, dismissing his doubt. “We will find something. My father isn’t wrong about such things.”
Thorn gave up. Lily would have it her way, as usual.
Despite the horse’s wounds, it didn’t take them long to saddle up Thunder. The stallion shook his head with impatience. He’d been cooped up too long. Thorn steadied him with strokes and pats and went through the whole routine, checking him down to his hooves. “We’re taking a nice, easy walk. Nothing too rough, all right? I don’t want them stitches opening up.”
Thunder snapped at him.
“Watch it, or you ain’t going nowhere.”
Thunder’s eyes narrowed, but he settled down.
“You’re not taking Hades?” asked Lily.
Thorn slipped the bit in place and flipped the reins over Thunder’s head. “That bat’s useless these days. Now that it’s getting a little cold, all he wants to do is eat and sleep. It’s too hard to wake him.”
Dott slung on a pair of shoulder bags and put a heavy belt around her huge waist. Then she tied on pouches and more bags and a hatchet, a saucepan, a pot, a bundle of skewers, a frying pan, a kettle, and a small cauldron.
“Let me help with your rucksack.” Thorn went over to it and tried to pick it up.
It didn’t budge. Not even an inch.
Thorn gritted his teeth and urged every ounce of strength through his legs and arms.
Nothing. Not. An. Inch.
Dott reached over, grabbed a strap with one hand, and swung the rucksack cleanly over her shoulder. She patted Thorn on the back. She tied a wool bobble hat to her head. Bells dangled from the twine she used as straps.
Lily settled herself on Zephyr. “Can we get a move on?”
They went out of the stables.
There was Gabriel.
“Oh no,” said Thorn. He looked imploringly at Lily. “He’s coming, too?”
“No, he most certainly is not.”
Gabriel sat upon Lightning, the horse Thorn had “borrowed” from him several months back. “I’ve been waiting for ages. Mr. Funny, hurry up!”
“Coming, m’lord!”
Mr. Funny hauled at a stubborn donkey. He pulled its reins, and when it didn’t move, he raced around the rear and pushed, his long, spindly legs trembling with the effort. “Just…a…moment…”
Gabriel was dressed in an ivory tunic with breeches, high white leather riding boots, and an ermine cloak. A thin platinum band encircled his brow and the golden shoulder-length hair shone only as hair that’s been brushed a thousand times a night could shine.
If he put that much effort into sword fighting, he’d be better than Tyburn.
Opposite him was Lily, black from brow to boot. Those boots were studded with small black onyx buttons, and the only color on her was the dark red of her lips. Zephyr’s coat shimmered with oily blackness, an
d his tail and mane rippled in the low breeze.
How could anyone have believed that Lily and Gabriel would ever be friends? They were born enemies.
The only person happy with this reunion was Dott. She did a joyous twirl. “Bootiful boy! Bootiful boy an’ me!”
Lily straightened her spine and stuck her chin out. Thorn knew what was coming. Lily was in queen mode.
“Go back to your rooms, Gabriel,” said Lily.
“I think not. I don’t trust any of your servants, especially with you gone.”
“It’s too dangerous for you to be seen in these parts. You’re a Solar.”
“I have my faithful servant to protect me. And, of course, you are honor-bound to do the same, aren’t you?”
“I could get my guards to drag you off your horse and lock you up in the Needle.” Lily glanced over to four of her Black Guard. “I think they might enjoy it.”
“I’m sure those vulgar thugs would. It would be the highlight of their boring, miserable lives. Something they may one day tell their children about—if such creatures breed children, rather than goblins.”
“We might be roughing it. Camping out. You may not bathe for a few days.”
“I never realized quite how uncivilized Gehenna was. Don’t you have inns every twenty miles? We do, in Lumina.”
“We have hedges and ditches and smelly caves.”
Gabriel bit his lip and glanced back toward the Great Hall. “And I doubt your…maid can cook anything that resembles actual food?”
“Trolls haven’t invented cooking yet.” She smiled. “We’ll be dining on raw hedgehog, most likely.”
“No doubt a local delicacy?” Gabriel paled, then set his jaw as firmly as Lily’s. “I shall suffer alongside you. After all, what sort of noble would I be if I let you venture forth into the wild without my sword to defend you?”
Thorn butted in. “The last time you were in danger, it was Lily who saved your white backside. From being devoured by specters, if I remember right.”
Gabriel cleared his throat. “The ballads tell a different tale.”
They did. The minstrels sang of the heroic Gabriel, the simpering Lily, and the peasant buffoon Thorn, who was always losing his pants.