The Beast of Talesend (Beaumont and Beasley Book 1)

by Kyle Shultz

In desperation, I commanded the Beast under my control to charge at the other one. It sprang forward with a mighty roar, and both creatures tumbled over each other into the foliage, rolling out of sight.

  “Let’s get to that passage,” I said, panting. “I’m not controlling that one any more. Pretty soon they’ll both be back to finish us off.”

  “I have to hold back these vines,” said Cordelia, still shooting spells at the plants.

  “Let me handle them,” I said, grabbing a handful of the tendrils and squeezing them tightly. The thorns broke against my skin, and the vines went limp. I cast them aside, and Cordelia and I hurried deeper into the garden before more could attack us.

  Cordelia led the way to a large, ornate fountain in the very center of the garden. There were statues in the middle of it, but I couldn’t make out their shapes thanks to the vines wrapped around them. The growth was so thick that the flow of water to the fountain had been choked off.

  “I’m assuming,” I said, “that the secret entrance is somewhere under all those sentient killer vines.”

  “I’m afraid so,” said Cordelia.

  “Right.” I spat on my paws. “Shall we get to work?”

  At first, it felt as if we were fighting a losing battle. For every vine I tore away, or that Cordelia incinerated, two more sprang up to take its place. But once we managed to get a small space cleared at the base of the statue, Cordelia was finally able to focus on unraveling the enchantment that sealed the passageway. A panel slid back, revealing a staircase leading down into blackness.

  Blackness which, by the light of the big fireflies whizzing overhead, I could see was crawling with even more vines.

  “You know,” I said, wrestling with the vegetation, “I’ve often complained about how one is cut off from nature in the big city. I will never do so again.”

  The vines in the tunnel shot out and wrapped around me while I was occupied fighting the ones on the surface. The next thing I knew, they were dragging me down into the passageway.

  “Nick!” Cordelia shouted, diving after me. She grabbed my arm just before I was pulled below the surface. Unfortunately, she ended up being dragged along as well. The secret panel slid shut behind us, plunging the tunnel into darkness.

  Seconds later, we were in the meeting hall, which was now completely overwhelmed by clawthorn vines. Roaring in anger, I ripped off the ones wrapped around my middle. The rest of them all moved in unison, slithering towards us in a wave.

  Cordelia made a violent shoving motion with her hands, sending a swarm of red runes hurtling towards the vines. The glowing symbols tore into the plants, shredding them to bits. A moment later, the floor was scattered with hundreds of green fragments, all reassuringly motionless.

  “Well,” I said, breathing heavily. “That spell was helpful. Why didn’t you use it before?”

  “Because I just made it up,” Cordelia replied, wiping sweat from her brow.

  “What are you doing here?” exclaimed Crispin, rattling his shackles. “And who’s she?”

  I hurried over to him, reaching up to break the manacles off his wrists. I hadn’t actually tried snapping wrought iron with my bare hands so far, but as it turned out, I was quite good at it. “Are you all right?” I grabbed his chin and tilted his injured face into the torchlight for a better look. “What did that lunatic do to you?”

  “Get off.” He batted away my paw and rubbed his wrists. “I’ve been through worse.”

  “No, you haven't.”

  “How did you know I was here?”

  I shrugged. “Magic mirror, creepy lady, long story. By the way, I’d like you to meet—”

  “Wait a minute,” said Crispin, his eyes widening as he looked at Cordelia. “Is that - her? Lady Cordelia?”

  “Why, yes!” said Cordelia, beaming at him. She elbowed me in the ribs. “You see, Nick, he gets my title right.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”

  “How do you do?” Crispin sprang forward and took Cordelia’s hand, brushing his lips across it. “It’s such an honor to meet you.”

  I groaned and slapped a paw to my forehead. “Oh, don’t start, Crispin.”

  “It’s nice to meet you too,” said Cordelia with a chuckle. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “All good, I hope.”

  “Well, she heard that you turned me into a monster,” I cut in, “so no, not all good. And, just a reminder, we are currently in the middle of an evil sorcerer’s lair, so perhaps we could save the pleasantries for later?”

  “So that was magic, right?” asked Crispin, ignoring me. “That red-flashy-explodey stuff you did there?”

  “Ah - yes,” said Cordelia uncertainly.

  He grinned. “You know, as it happens, I’m a magician as well.”

  I gaped at him in disbelief. “You’re nothing of the kind! You did magic once, practically five minutes ago, and entirely by accident!”

  He gaped at me in surprise. “You saw that?”

  “Yes, and so did she!”

  He winced, blushing slightly. “Oh.” Then his face brightened. “Hey!” he said to Cordelia. “You can teach me magic!”

  “Not now,” I said firmly, before Cordelia could reply. “And if I have my way, not ever.” I looked around the room. “Where’s that Levesque person? Are we supposed to rescue her?”

  “They took her upstairs,” said Crispin. “Those slightly-less-friendly versions of you, I mean. Speaking of which, if Lady Cordelia’s a magician—”

  “Enchantress,” Cordelia corrected.

  “—then why hasn’t she changed you back yet?”

  I sighed. “She can’t.”

  “Oh.” An excited look came into his eyes. “Would you like me to try?”

  “Absolutely not!”

  He looked hurt. “It was just a suggestion. What’s stopping her from doing it, anyway?”

  I shook my head. “It’s complicated.”

  “Here,” said Cordelia, pulling out her chalk. “I’ll draw a diagram.”

  I confiscated the chalk. “No, you won’t. The short version, Crispin, is that she needs the Clawthorn Rose in order to do it.”

  “Getting back to the point,” said Cordelia, “I don’t think we need to bother rescuing Madame Levesque. She can take care of herself.” I noticed a hint of bitterness in her tone. I guessed it was probably related to some other detail in her past I was better off not asking about.

  “Fine,” I said. “Then let’s just focus on the Rose.”

  “What are we doing to do to it?” asked Crispin. “Smash it or something?”

  “No!” cried Cordelia. “No smashing. If we destroy the Rose, the Beast Curse will start using the people it’s transformed as sources instead, which means we’ll never be able to change them back.”

  “Not to mention that it’s probably impossible to destroy the Rose at this point anyway,” I added. “We can barely deal with its vines.”

  Crispin looked pensive. “Aren’t roses supposed to be bushes?”

  “It’s magic, Crispin,” I said. “Don’t try to make sense of it.”

  “Come on,” said Cordelia, heading purposefully toward the main entrance to the meeting hall. “The Rose is probably still in the collection room. Let’s get this over with.”

  “Does she know what she’s doing?” Crispin whispered to me.

  “Rarely.”

  “I heard that,” said Cordelia.

  I had hoped we might make it to the collection room before encountering any Beasts. Unfortunately, we met five of them at the top of the stairs.

  “He must have changed everyone,” said Cordelia, horrified. “The guards, the servants…”

  “I forgot to ask this earlier,” said Crispin, as the Beasts bared their fangs at us, “but do you two have some sort of plan?”

  I focused my attention on one of the Beasts, commanding it to attack all the others. It wavered in confusion for a moment, then a wild look came into its eyes, and it leapt upon its fellows
in a frenzy.

  “Good plan,” said Crispin. “Nice work, Lady Cordelia.”

  I glared at him. “I did that, you twit.”

  “Oh.”

  “I think they’re distracted enough,” said Cordelia, as the free-for-all among the Beasts intensified. “Follow me.”

  She led us down the gloomy corridors of the house. Vines curled up every wall, nearly smothering the electric ceiling lights. It was like walking through a long-abandoned building taken over by foliage - except in this case, the foliage wanted to kill us. At first, the vines ignored us, preoccupied with worming their way into every corner of the building. Then, as they became aware of our presence, they wove together in front of us, forming a wall to block our way. The long thorns lashed out, narrowly missing Crispin.

  I grabbed his arm and jerked him back. “Careful,” I warned.

  “I can handle those things,” Crispin argued. “I did it before.”

  “Just stand back and give Cordelia room,” I insisted.

  Cordelia spun her hands in a circle to create the spell she had cast before, then flung the runes at the vines, slashing them to ribbons.

  “Watch out!” Crispin cried. I spun around just in time to see him throw out his hand wildly toward a vine that had sprung up behind us. Red light sparked briefly between his fingers, then blasted into the vine, turning it to ash.

  “See?” said Crispin proudly. “Told you.”

  Cordelia nodded. “Impressive.”

  “Don’t encourage him,” I warned.

  “What? He’s good. Raw and untrained, but good.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but the whispering suddenly exploded in my brain again, causing me to double over in pain.

  Pretender. Die.

  Crispin grabbed my arm as I stumbled. “Are you all right?”

  “It’s getting stronger,” I gasped. “The Rose.”

  Spread. Consume. Conquer.

  “Then we have to hurry,” said Cordelia, pointing to a set of double doors ahead of us. “The collection room is through there.”

  “What do you want me to do?” asked Crispin, twiddling his fingers in excitement. Red light crackled between them.

  “Nothing!” I snapped. “You do nothing. Nothing at all.”

  “Just follow my lead,” said Cordelia. “Keep the vines off me while I deal with the Rose itself.”

  I stared at her. “He can’t do that! He doesn’t even know how to properly cast a spell! All he’s doing is throwing fireballs all over the place!”

  She shrugged. “That’s how I started out. And we need all the help we can get.”

  “I won’t allow—”

  “Nick,” Cordelia interrupted, placing her hands on her hips in defiance, “why do you think Crispin’s powers never manifested before? Because you, no doubt, have been telling him all his life that magic isn’t possible.”

  “I’m trying to keep him alive!”

  “And that’s commendable. But you should stop limiting him.”

  “Yes,” said Crispin, folding his arms. “And while you’re at it, perhaps you could stop talking about me as if I wasn’t standing right here.”

  “Fine.” I glared at him and wagged my finger in his face. “But stay behind us, and do exactly as you’re told.”

  “Right! Absolutely!” And with that, he charged forward and burst into the collection room.

  I hung my head in resignation. “Congratulations,” I said to Cordelia. “You’ve just created another monster.”

  I hurried inside after Crispin, Cordelia following close behind me. The foliage was at its thickest in the collection room, covering everything in sight. No doubt the place would have been quite impressive under normal circumstances. By now, however, the vines had torn and impaled the books on the shelves lining one wall, and shattered the glass cases along the opposite side of the room. Only the large fireplace was mostly untouched, the vines keeping well back from the flames. They all came together in a spiral pattern at the center of the floor, coiling up the sides of a table to their source - the single blossom of the Clawthorn Rose. The crimson hue of its petals seemed too rich and vibrant to exist in the real world. The beautiful flower was set incongruously in a circle of long, sharp thorns, whose dark hue made the Rose itself look even brighter. The flower swayed gently to and fro, like a tree in a soft breeze - or a snake preparing to strike.

  The whispering was now worse than ever, cascading through my brain so that I could barely think. I could feel a primal, ruthless hatred coming from the Rose. It was all I could do to keep from lunging at it and tearing it to pieces to stop the assault on my senses.

  Interloper. Abomination. Destroy.

  But strangely, there was another voice amid the chaos. It was faint, yet still discernible by its calm, quiet tone.

  First.

  Instantly, without knowing quite what I was doing, I turned and headed in the direction of the voice. I tore into the vines that lined the shelves on the other side of the room, rummaging through the broken pieces of the artifacts they had once held.

  “What are you looking for?” I heard Crispin ask. “Seems to me we’ve already found what we need.”

  “It must be here somewhere,” I said. “I know he saved it…ah.” I uncovered a glass jar, the only object among the debris that hadn’t been smashed to bits. Strangely, several vines were wrapped around it, but they had failed to penetrate the glass. I pulled the container free and held it up for a better look. Inside was the object that had started all this trouble.

  “The thorn,” said Cordelia, staring at it in amazement. “The one I broke off.”

  “It was calling to me,” I said.

  “Then hang on to it. We might need it at some point; you never know.”

  “Why do you suppose these vines aren’t attacking us?” asked Crispin. “And how come there aren’t any Beasts coming to stop us?”

  “Because I want to deal with you personally.”

  We all whirled towards the dark corner near the fireplace from which the voice had come. A hulking figure slowly emerged from the shadows, towering far above even myself. It ran a long, forked tongue across its fangs and blinked its eight eyes, grinning hideously at us.

  “Bravo,” said Lord Whitlock, in a deep, distorted voice. He slowly clapped his long-fingered hands in mocking applause. “I’m really very impressed that you made it this far. Unfortunately, that won’t stop me from killing you.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Choices

  “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to hide in corners and eavesdrop?” said Crispin, glaring at Whitlock in disapproval.

  “Shut up,” I hissed.

  Whitlock’s many-eyed gaze shifted to Cordelia. “I knew you were still alive,” he said with a smile. “Thanks to my training, of course. What spell did you use to survive that fall? The Charm of the Seven Ravens? The Northwind Scroll?”

  Cordelia looked at him in anguish. “Father, please. Stop this. I can help you.”

  “Unless you’re offering to help me take over the world, I’m really not interested.” Whitlock moved closer, his heavy steps shaking the floor. My ears pinned back, and I felt a growl rumbling in my chest.

  “It’s been entertaining to watch you three,” he said. “The skeptic, the failure, and the fool.”

  “Oi!” Crispin interjected. “Nobody calls my brother a fool!”

  My eyes rolled heavenwards. “He meant you. I’m the skeptic.”

  Crispin blinked. “Oh.”

  “Father, why?” Cordelia insisted. “Why did you do this to yourself?”

  “Because I wanted to be feared.”

  “You were feared already! The whole city was afraid of you!”

  I shook my head. “I wasn’t.”

  “You’re not helping!” she whispered.

  “But I wasn’t feared in the way I wanted to be,” Whitlock argued. “Being a dangerous man is one thing. Being something more than a man - a creature of legend - is something e
lse entirely. I wanted people to speak of me in the same breath as the monsters of old. The Fenrir, the Kraken, the Morrigan—”

  “As ambitions go, that’s a pretty disturbing one,” I said. “Not to mention the fact that you apparently want to subject the entire world to the same fate.”

  He chuckled. “The world is in a sorry state. Chaotic and crumbling. Any day now, Grimmany will invade Contefay, and then the whole of the Afterlands will be plunged into war. A disastrous, utterly senseless war over diplomatic fine print. The Afterlands need to be reborn.”

  “As a land of monsters?” I scoffed.

  “Father, this isn’t you,” Cordelia pleaded. “You’re power-hungry, but you’re not insane. The Rose is twisting your mind. Just let me free you from it!”

  “You don’t understand, dear. I don’t need to be freed from it. The Rose is a gift.”

  “No,” I shot back, “It’s a weapon. A horrific weapon that should never have been created in the first place.”

  “I’m not going to let this happen, Father,” said Cordelia. She held out both hands over the rose. Runes blazed to life all around it, whizzing through the air like hornets stirred from their nest.

  “None of that!” shouted Whitlock, holding out his own clawed hand. But no magic flashed at his finger-tips. He blinked in confusion and tried again, with the same results.

  “That’s unfortunate,” he remarked to himself, staring at his hand. “Looks as if I can’t cast spells anymore. Oh well.” He lowered his arm and fixed his eight eyes on Cordelia. “This is your last chance. Are you with me or against me?”

  The determination in her eyes never wavered. “You already know what I’m going to say to that.”

  He gave a long sigh. “I’m afraid I do. It’s such a shame. I suppose I should have known you were drifting away from me. Ever since—”

  Cordelia’s eyes flashed, and she unleashed a surge of red runes - apparently, the same spell she’d used to shred the vines. On Whitlock, it wasn’t as effective. It did cause him to snarl in pain and stagger back a couple of paces, but it didn’t reduce him to a pile of ashes.

  “Don’t,” said Cordelia, through clenched teeth. “Don’t you ever speak his name to me. You don’t have the right.”