“Where’d you get that?” Garrett asked.
Sir Baelan stroked the silver pendant with his fingertip, smiling sadly. “I have worn it close to my heart since the day Cabre’s father first lay its chain around my neck,” he said.
“And Cabre will know it’s yours?” Garrett asked.
Baelan nodded.
“How will he know we just didn’t kill you and take it?” Haven wondered.
“When he reads my message within, he will know the truth,” Sir Baelan answered, “Please have someone deliver this to the keep, once we are inside the city.” He passed the rolled cloth to Haven.
“What did you write it with?” Haven laughed.
Sir Baelan yanked off his left glove to reveal another strip of blue cloth, ruined with brownish stains, tightly wrapped around his palm.
“I could have made you some ink, if you’d asked!” Haven scoffed.
“No better ink than a man’s honor itself,” Baelan chuckled as he gently tugged his glove back into place.
“And I thought Gloarans were crazy,” Haven muttered as she tucked the Knight’s message into her belt pouch.
“Are you going to take that to Cabre?” Garrett asked.
“Yeah,” Haven said, “once I find out where this stable is at, I’ll take it to the keep and then come back to join you for whatever happens next.”
“But you don’t know your way around Braedshal,” Garrett protested.
“Pardon me, m’lord,” Haven drawled in a thick Astorran accent, “Would you be so kind as to point me toward the big castley bit where they keep the royalty?”
Garrett frowned at her.
“Thank you,” Sir Baelan laughed, “You should have no trouble finding the keep. Approach one of the men with a silver pauldron on his shoulder, and tell him that you have an urgent message from Sir Baelan for the King.”
“What if they want you to go inside?” Garrett asked, starting to worry more about being separated from Haven.
“I’ll just roll in a bit filth before I get there,” she said with a shrug, “Maybe the guard will feel sorry for me and toss me a copper before he sends me off.”
“I’m serious,” Garrett sighed.
“I’ll be fine,” Haven assured him, “I’ve been doing this kind of thing for a very long time, Garrett.”
Garrett gave her a crooked smile and then nodded. “Just promise me you’ll be careful,” he whispered.
She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Thanks for worrying about me,” she whispered back.
“Do you two ever stop pawin’ at each other?” sighed a familiar voice from the woods behind them.
“Hi, Scupp,” Garrett chuckled as he turned to face the ghoul who now emerged from the shadows, using a rough-hewn branch as a makeshift crutch.
“Hi, Gar,” she greeted him with a toothy grin. She nodded at Haven and the knight in turn.
“Is everybody ready?” Garrett asked.
“Yeah,” Scupp said, “the snowball twins think they can sneak us in through an old tunnel they’ve got under a farmhouse not far from here.”
“Snowball twins?” Garrett asked.
“Diggs’s new girlfriends, Mink and Luma,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes, “They swish their tails in front o’ his nose a few more times, he’s gonna jump in a barrel o’ bleach and start howlin’ prayers to Nemre.”
“They didn’t seem very religious to me,” Garrett said.
“You don’t worship the White Wolf out in front o’ normal folk,” Scupp grumbled, “oh, I mean the untouched.” She waved her free paw in a vaguely mystical gesture.
“The what?” Garrett laughed.
“Yeah, don’t ask,” Scupp sighed, shaking her head, “I had to get out o’ there ‘fore I shoved a crutch up one o’ their self-righteous snouts.”
“I’m just glad they’re helpin’ us,” Garrett said.
“I’m sure they’ll want somethin’ in return,” Scupp said, “The White Pack’s not known for doin’ much charity, so be careful what you promise ‘em.”
“I haven’t promised ‘em anything,” Garrett said.
“Yeah, that’s what worries me,” Scupp answered.
“Well, we’ll sort it out later,” Garrett said, “If they can get us inside the castle without anybody gettin’ hurt, I really will owe ‘em.”
“We’ll see,” Scupp said, “Come on. I’ll show you the way.”
*******
Mualip and the fairies were waiting at the farm when Garrett and the others arrived. The faint glow of Sender and Shortgrass glistened on the sleek fur of the little selkie as he sat, perched on an old tree stump, gnawing at a melon rind. The dim light of a lamp shone from the window of the otherwise dark farmhouse behind them.
“Where are the others?” Garrett whispered as they approached from the road.
“No need to keep your voice down,” Scupp laughed, “The White Pack owns the place.”
“They own it?” Garrett asked, still not daring to speak very loudly.
“They are poor farmers,” Sender answered, “but, otherwise, they keep up appearances.”
“Thish melonsh not very ripe,” Mualip announced through a mouthful of mush.
“Well, I don’ think they’ll be takin’ it to tha fair, now will they?” Shortgrass quipped.
“You mean that this farm is owned by ghouls?” Sir Baelan asked.
“Yeah,” Scupp said.
“But how?” the knight demanded, “Their neighbors surely would have noticed and reported them.”
“The folks ‘round here only see what the White Pack wants ‘em to see,” Scupp answered, “They could be lookin’ right at ‘em and think they was just another dirt-grubbin’ human like them.”
“Magic?” Sir Baelan whispered.
“The touch!,” Scupp replied dramatically with a mysterious wave of her paw.
“Ah,” Baelan responded, letting the subject drop.
“You’re not gonna tell anybody about this place, are you?” Garrett asked, giving Sir Baelan a concerned look.
The knight looked troubled and took a moment to respond. “I will not speak of it... unless questioned directly about it by the King,” he answered at last.
“All right,” Garrett sighed, “I just don’t want them getting into trouble because of this. Where is everybody else?”
“The rest of us are in the tunnel already, waitin’ for you to get here,” Scupp said, ushering them all toward the farmhouse, “The ghosty ones snuck on ahead to scout out the way under the wall.”
“What about the hanged ones?” Garrett asked.
“That could be a problem,” Shortgrass sighed as he gestured toward the silhouette of the castle on the hill about a mile away, “Soon as they laid eyes on that, well, off they went.”
“They’re attacking the castle?” Garrett demanded, feeling a little twinge of panic in his chest.
“They’re of a mind ta have their vengeance on tha king that hanged ‘em,” Shortgrass said, “So, I imagine they plan ta chew their way through tha wall ta get to ‘im or whomever happens ta be sittin’ in his chair.”
“We’ve gotta stop ‘em!” Garrett exclaimed, waving his hands in frustration.
“They’re gone already,” Shortgrass said, “I doubt ya could stop ‘em if ya tried.”
“They’re just gonna get killed!” Garrett sighed.
“What’d ya think was gonna happen to ‘em?” the fairy asked.
“Yeah, but...” Garrett answered, his shoulders sagging in resignation.
“It’s how it has ta end for ‘em. Ya know that,” Shortgrass said softly, “Let’s make it count fer somethin’ at least.”
Garrett wished he’d been able to do something more for those wretched undead that lived now only for vengeance. “At least they aren’t hanging in the trees anymore,” he sighed.
“That’s the spirit!” Shortgrass laughed as he flew down to clap his tiny hand on Garrett’s shoulder, “‘Tis a fine holiday for
the hanged men o’ Kilkaelam!”
“Those men were Astorrans,” Sir Baelan corrected the fairy.
“We’ll see what they still call the place in tha mornin’,” Shortgrass laughed.
A little chill went through Garrett’s chest to realize that he stood now on the brink of the very moment he had dreamed about for so long.
Are you there? he asked the silence within his thoughts.
I’m here, the Spellbreaker’s voice answered coldly.
Any advice? Garrett asked.
Do what you came here to do, Brahnek’s voice answered back.
“Come on then,” Garrett sighed aloud, “let’s get this over with.”
Scupp led them inside the old farmhouse, and Garrett’s nose wrinkled at the scent of dried blood. The creaking floorboards were strewn with heaps of straw that did little to hide the dark stains beneath. The flickering oil lamp smoked atop a crooked wooden table with a splintered leg that someone had bound back together, somewhat haphazardly, with a bit of rusty twine. Of the house’s inhabitants, he saw no sign.
“This way,” Scupp called out as she propped open a hatch in the kitchen floor and dropped down into a ragged hole below.
They found Warren and his father waiting for them a short distance inside the damp, earthen tunnel beneath the old farmhouse. Warren’s fanged grin shone in the dim blue phosphorescence of the colony of cave mold that covered the dripping walls of the burrowed out passageway. Both he and his father stooped together in the close confines of the narrow tunnel, but they looked to be in high spirits.
“Hey, Gar, I’m glad to see you!” Warren sighed in relief, reaching out to put his shaggy paw on Garrett’s shoulder as Scupp let him take the lead.
“Heard you had a bit o’ trouble, boy,” Bargas rumbled as he squeezed Garrett’s shoulder as well. Even through the nerveless skin of his shoulder, Garrett could sense the crushing strength of the massive ghoul’s paw.
“Yeah,” Garrett laughed, “but we found Max’s sister. Did you hear?”
“Yeah, that’s pretty weird!” Warren chuckled, “A shame she wants to kill you.”
Garrett shrugged. “We’ll work that out later... somehow,” he said.
“You sure you wanna go through with this, boy?” Bargas whispered, “It ain’t too late to turn tail, you know.”
“I gotta do this, Mister Bargas,” Garrett insisted, “and Sir Baelan thinks there’s a way we can get to Cabre without having to hurt a lot of people.”
Warren gave his father a worried look.
“What?” Garrett asked.
Warren pulled a pained face, glancing down the tunnel to avoid looking Garrett in the eye. “Listen, Gar,” he said, “I know you been real mad at Cabre for a long time now... I was pretty mad at him too, over what he did to ya, but...”
“But what?” Garrett asked.
Warren looked at him again, his eyes dark pools of shadow in the dim light. “You’re not a killer, Gar,” he sighed.
Garrett’s eyes fell.
“I know I ain’t much a stand-in fer Tinjin, right now, boy,” Bargas said, “but I think... if he was here... well, I gotta speak for ‘im, even if I don’t got the wits ta speak as plain as he would.”
“I know,” Garrett answered sadly, “I know what he’d say... but it’s not like that... it really isn’t. Just trust me, please. I know what I have to do now, and it’s not to sneak in and murder Cabre like some kinda... murderer guy. I have to see him. I have to talk to him, and... after that... well, I don’t know what’s gonna happen, but... I know I gotta do at least that much before anything can ever change between us.”
Warren nodded. “You know I’m with you, Gar,” he said, “even if you gotta fight Cabre... even if you gotta kill him. I’m your friend, Gar, and nothin’s gonna change that. I just don’t wanna see you do somethin’ that you’re not gonna be able to live with later... You know?”
“I know,” Garrett said, smiling at his old friend, “thanks, Warren... You too, Mister Bargas.”
The ghouls nodded at him, and then Warren turned and led the way down the tunnel, in the direction of the castle.
“Where are the others?” Garrett asked.
“Ym’s up ahead with Diggs and the sisters,” Warren said without looking back, “Your ghost friends are already gone on into the sewers to keep an eye out for patrols. Did you see they got redjacks in the city?”
“Yeah, I saw their camp outside,” Garrett said darkly.
“That’s only the half of it,” Warren grumbled, they got a bunch of guys inside the castle too. Some of ‘em in the tunnels, lookin’ out for us, I guess.”
“The ghosts’ll take care of them, if we meet any,” Garrett said.
“What are they gonna do, scare ‘em?” Warren chuckled.
“They can be pretty scary,” Garrett laughed in response.
“I still wish we had more fleshy guys on our side,” Warren said.
“Do not rely upon the flesh for your salvation, brother,” hissed a chilling voice from the tunnel ahead.
“Hi, Luma,” Warren called out cheerlessly as the white ghoul approached on all fours, looking like some ghostly, subterranean wolf.
“Songreaver,” the white furred she-ghoul greeted Garrett with a sharp grin, “The White Pack has cleared a path for you into the city. You will meet no resistance there tonight.”
“Thank you,” Garrett answered, bowing his head slightly.
“Take heart, friends,” Luma said, rising into a half crouch before them, “The moon’s whisperin’ blood tonight... that’s a good sign.”
“We’re actually trying to avoid as much blood as possible,” Garrett said.
Luma shrugged. “The moon answers all our prayers, Songreaver,” she hissed, “it’s up to us to be grateful, whatever She answers back.”
“Oh... thanks,” Garrett said, feeling rather awkward.
“An’ my neck’s whisperin’ an awful pain, standin’ around in this tunnel!” Scupp growled from behind, “So how’s about we get a move on and get this sorry business over with?”
Luma flashed her long fangs in a brief scowl before grinning at Garrett again. “This way, Songreaver,” she said, turning to lope away on all fours again up the tunnel.
Even though the tunnel was large enough that Garrett did not have to stoop as they made their way toward the city, he still felt a growing sense of claustrophobia and a nameless unease that gnawed at his heart as they drew nearer to his encounter with the prince who had betrayed him. Uncle Tinjin had never put much faith in the idea of Fate. He had taught Garrett that a man’s choices guided his path for good or ill, but Garrett felt as though he had been caught up in the rushing currents of Destiny, and he had no hope now of swimming against them.
An archway of moldy stones marked the entrance to the tunnels beneath the city of Braedshal. They found Lady Ymowyn waiting for them there. The fox woman wore a simple dress of brown linen with her Chadiri satchel of medical supplies slung over her shoulder. A glass bottle, filled with glowing algae, lay on the tunnel floor beside her. Its dim light illuminated her tense smile and the anxious look in her eyes. She stepped forward to share a brief embrace with Warren before turning to Garrett.
“Welcome to my city, Songreaver,” she said with a graceful curtsy.
“Thanks,” Garrett answered, feeling the tingle of anticipation on the back of his neck.
“Mink go on ahead?” Luma asked.
“Yes,” Ymowyn replied, “She and Diggs went to investigate a noise a few moments ago.”
“Trouble?” Bargas asked.
“Shouting in the street above,” Ymowyn answered.
“I told them I didn’t want anybody going upstairs yet!” Warren growled, saving Garrett the trouble of complaining.
“Mink knows her way around,” Luma said with a shrug of her snowy white shoulders.
“Maybe, if Diggs doesn’t burn down half the city tryin’ to impress her with his magic!” Warren scoffed.
; “Is he that good?” Luma asked.
Warren looked as if he were about to say something nasty, but then thought better of it. “He’s the best ghoul magician I’ve ever seen,” he said at last.
“Huh,” Luma said, looking impressed.
Garrett glanced back at Scupp, but, though it looked as if it pained her, she said nothing to spoil Warren’s praise of her brother’s skill.
“The ghosts report that the tunnels under the keep are well-guarded,” Ymowyn said, “They seem confident that they can distract the guards for long enough to get you inside, but they themselves are barred by magic from entry within.”
“We’re not going to the keep,” Garrett said, “Can somebody show us the way to the stables?”
“The stables?” Ymowyn exclaimed with a perplexed look.
“The royal stables,” Sir Baelan explained, “We will meet with the King there... privately.”
“Wait, what do you mean by privately?” Haven spoke up.
“The King will bring two retainers of his choice,” Sir Baelan said, “and the Songreaver should choose two companions as well to accompany him to the negotiation. I will act as intermediary between the two parties.”
“What?” Warren demanded, giving Garrett and the knight an incredulous look.
“I’m gonna try to settle this without fighting, if I can,” Garrett said.
“You really trust Cabre to only bring two bodyguards?” Haven asked.
“The King is honor-bound by the code of the duel,” Sir Baelan sighed, “He will not dishonor his father’s line by breaking the code.”
“Duel?” Garrett exclaimed, “I thought we were gonna try to talk things out?”
Sir Baelan gave him a weary look. “A duel does not have to end in death,” he said, “but it is the only way that honor may be satisfied between you.”
“Garrett?” Warren whined, looking very uneasy about the change in plans.
“It’ll be all right,” Garrett said, nodding his head, “This will work just fine.”
“Well who are you taking with you, besides me?” Haven asked.
Garrett frowned and then shook his head. “I want you to follow Cabre when he leaves the castle and keep an eye out for anything suspicious outside the stables,” he said.
Trials of the Twiceborn (The Songreaver's Tale Book 6) Page 36