Throne of Llewyllan (Book 2) Page 12

  The bullet tore through the rope holding the portcullis, tearing off pieces of frayed strands. The knotted cord unraveled with a tearing sound.

  Kendril hit the ground, and rolled towards the drawbridge.

  With a shudder and a high-pitched squeal the portcullis crashed down. It smashed into the ground just as Kendril rolled past, the iron spikes barely missing him.

  The Ghostwalker leapt to his feet, and sprinted over the drawbridge into the darkness beyond.

  Several crossbow bolts flew after him from the top of the castle walls, but none found their mark.

  The Royal Guards piled up against the iron portcullis, trying in vain to lift it up.

  Bathsby gave a roar of frustration, his hands squeezing the hilt of his sword.

  “Captain,” he thundered, “get that portcullis up now!”

  The man turned and spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “It’s too heavy, sir. We’ll need to reattach a rope before we can winch it all the way up.”

  Bathsby wheeled his horse, his face red with anger.

  Kendril had already disappeared into the darkness.

  Chapter 9

  They were waiting on the dark street by the fountain when Kendril arrived.

  The moon gleamed brightly off the tumbling water. The Ghostwalker glanced around the town square anxiously, but there was no sign of life.

  “Everyone’s in bed,” explained Maklavir. “As we should be, too.”

  Kendril scowled. “You shouldn’t have waited for me here. It’s too dangerous.”

  Joseph sheathed his rapier. “Frankly, I’m astounded you’re still alive.”

  He shook his head. “None of us will be for very long if we don’t get out of here. As soon as the guards at the city gates get word of what happened up at the castle they’ll close up tighter than a turtle’s shell.” Kendril walked over to Simon and gave the mule a reassuring pat. “We have to get out of here.”

  “We’re leaving?” asked Maklavir in surprise.

  The Ghostwalker vaulted up on Simon’s back. “We certainly can’t stay here,” he said. “Not while Bathsby is in charge. He’ll tear the city apart looking for us.”

  Joseph nodded. “I agree.” He looked back up the road towards the castle. “How exactly did you manage to hold those horsemen up, anyway?”

  Kendril gave a mysterious smile. “I can’t give away all my secrets, now can I?”

  Serentha stood as the door to her bedroom opened.

  Lord Bathsby entered, followed by two Royal Guards. He gave a sweeping bow. “Your Highness.”

  “What’s going on, Bathsby?” said Serentha. By now she was fully dressed. “Why have you kept me imprisoned in my own room?”

  “For your own good, Your Highness,” said Lord Bathsby. “The assassins who killed your father have escaped. They are still on the loose somewhere in the city below. The Ghostwalker is leading them.”

  Serentha stared at Bathsby incredulously. “Kendril? I can’t believe he would have any part in this treachery. Where is he now?”

  The nobleman stepped into the room and looked out the large window. “Believe it or not, Your Highness, it is true. He and his friends escaped through the castle gate not less than an hour ago, and killed several of my men in the process.”

  She turned and gripped the bedpost by her side. “You’re mistaken,” she said. Her fingers dug into the wood. “Kendril did not kill my father.”

  Bathsby turned, his face impassive. “The guard who survived the attack has already testified to what he saw. Did you happen to see anything of the attack?”

  The image of the cloaked Ghostwalker as he fled from her father’s room came unbidden into Serentha’s mind. For a brief, blinding moment her mind was flooded with horrible doubt. She forced it away.

  “No,” she said with a shake of her head. “I didn’t see anything.”

  Lord Bathsby gave a nod. “I see. I’m afraid you will have to continue to be confined to your room for the time being, Your Highness. It is for your own safety.”

  Serentha’s face flushed. “That is unacceptable.”

  The nobleman took a step forward, his eyes hardening. “There is treachery afoot, Your Highness, deep treachery. We have found papers that indicate that Lord Whitmore arranged the assassination of your father.”

  She released the bedpost, unable to believe what she was hearing. “Lord Whitmore? But…how? Why--?”

  Bathsby laid a hand on the princess’s shoulder. “I do not know, Your Highness. I am truly sorry to be the bearer of this painful news. Please know that I will make every effort to root out these conspirators and see that justice is done.”

  Serentha felt suddenly uneasy at the nobleman’s touch. “I need to speak to Lord Whitmore. I must know—”

  “That is quite impossible. We do not know yet how deep this conspiracy runs, or who may be trusted. Lord Whitmore seems to be at the head of it all.”

  She shook her head and turned away from him. “I won’t be trapped in here like this, Lord Bathsby.”

  The nobleman backed towards the door. “For the time being,” he said in an icy tone, “I must insist that you stay in your room. If there is anything I can do for you, do not hesitate to ask one of the guards.” He backed out of the room before Serentha could respond, and shut the doors behind him.

  Bathsby turned to the two guards in the hall. “No one goes in or out of that room without my permission, do you understand?”

  They both saluted sharply.

  Bathsby crossed the floor. He glanced over to where some blood still stained the floor where the first guard had been killed.

  Sir Reginald was waiting for him at the top of the stairs, a smug smile on his face. “Your lordship,” he said with slight nod of his head.

  Bathsby brushed by him, and started down the stairs. “The Ghostwalker?”

  Sir Reginald followed after him, smoothing his shirt. “No sign of him yet. I have my men searching the city right now, but he’d be a fool to have stuck around this long.”

  Bathsby cursed under his breath. He reached the landing, then turned towards the second flight of stairs. “Call a meeting tomorrow of all the noble families, as early as possible.”

  Reginald made a face. “They’ll need some convincing, you know.”

  Bathsby looked back over his shoulder. “Then we’ll just have to convince them, won’t we?” He stopped for a moment, pondering to himself. “Perhaps it is better in the long run for our assassins to have escaped. They pose little threat to us now, and having them still at large adds a certain urgency to the whole situation. See that the meeting is set, and after that take charge of the search personally. If there is any chance that the Ghostwalker and his friends are still in Balneth, I want them found.”

  Reginald nodded once more, then hurried down the stairs to the ground floor of the palace.

  Lord Bathsby leaned against the stairway railing, and cupped his hands together.

  A minor mishap here and there, he thought to himself, but overall things were going splendidly.

  “He got away, didn’t he?” came a quiet voice from behind him.

  Bathsby turned to see Bronwyn moving up beside him.

  “The Ghostwalker?” He curled his lip into a sneer. “He’s of no importance.”

  Bronwyn clasped her hands behind her back. Her breasts rose and fell seductively under her gown. “He may be of more importance than you realize. The plan was to kill him before he had the chance to escape.”

  “I know what the plan was,” Bathsby snapped. “I think that maybe you’re a little too interested in this Ghostwalker. He’s only one man.”

  Bronwyn’s eyes glittered in the candlelight. “He’s a Ghostwalker,” she said. “If left to his own devices he could destroy us all.”

  Bathsby laughed. “I think you give him far too much credit, my dear.”

  “And what about her?” asked Bronwyn with a glance back up the stairs.

  He turned to her, moving away from t
he railing. “I’ll take care of the princess. Don’t worry yourself about it.”

  Bronwyn gave a shrill giggle. “You can’t still think she will still marry you? As long as she lives she is a threat, Bathsby. You should kill her now while you have the chance.”

  The nobleman spun suddenly. He raised his arm as if to strike.

  Bronwyn cringed back against the wall.

  “And you,” said Bathsby in an even tone, “should watch what you say more carefully. You forget your place.”

  Bronwyn brushed a hand over her face, and tried to smile. “I meant no offense, my Lord.”

  The nobleman lowered his arm. The anger died in his eyes. “See that you keep it that way,” he said icily. He turned, and walked back down the stairs.

  Bronwyn pushed away from the wall, the blood returning to her face. She watched Bathsby disappear down onto the ground floor of the palace.

  “Fool,” she whispered, “your own arrogance will destroy you.” She smiled. “But not me.”

  “There,” said Joseph. He set down the bodies of two small rabbits on the ground. “Looks like those snares I set got us breakfast.”

  Maklavir glanced up at the sky through the scattered trees. “More like lunch, you mean.” He shivered, and gathered his purple cape around him. “I’m so glad we’re not in the palace anymore. Life out here in the wild is much more enjoyable.”

  “Yeah,” said Joseph cheerfully, missing the diplomat’s sarcasm. “I think I saw some wild onions back by the road, too. I’ll go dig some out.”

  Maklavir closed his eyes, and buried his forehead against his knees. “Oh, wild onions. That makes up for everything.”

  Kara glanced over from where she was sitting on a nearby rock, and gave a slight smile. She had several slender sticks in her hand, which she was carving down and sharpening with a knife.

  Joseph brushed his hands as he got up, and looked over at her curiously. “Arrows?”

  She nodded, and placed one down on the ground in a little pile. “Not great, but they’ll work all right, assuming I can find some feathers along the way.” She scratched the back of her neck and smiled. “You learn a lot of tricks when you’re living in the forest. Supplies are rather hard to come by.”

  Kendril came into their makeshift camp, his long rifle slung over one shoulder. He glanced down at Kara and her arrows, then up at Joseph.

  “You sure you hid our tracks?”

  The scout stretched his shoulders, yawning. “As well as I could, considering there were four people, three horses, and a mule.”

  Kendril put down the rifle, leaning it against a nearby trunk. He gazed off into the trees. “You say that Whitmore’s army went that way?”

  Joseph took out his knife and wiped it on his pant leg. “Yes, south by southeast. This road runs all the way from the South Gate of Balneth to the Dagger Hills, then on to the Shadow Mountains. If you follow it long enough it will take you all the way to the Spice Lands.”

  The Ghostwalker nodded, distracted by his thoughts. He snatched up the rifle again. “I’m going after them.”

  Joseph sat down on a tree stump, and picked up one of the rabbits. “After who?”

  “The army.” Kendril shoved the rifle into the pack on Simon’s back, then started securing it with several straps.

  Maklavir picked a small twig off his lapel, and tossed it aside. “Whatever for?”

  “Because they’re walking into a trap,” said Kendril. He reached over and grabbed another pack off the ground.

  Joseph hesitated, his knife ready to skin the rabbit. “Trap? What kind of trap?”

  Kendril grunted as he hoisted the pack onto Simon’s back. “An ambush. I think Bathsby told the Jogarthi they were coming.”

  For a moment the camp was quiet.

  “Told them?” repeated Maklavir. “How?”

  Kendril finished attaching the pack, and rubbed his shoulder. “A raven. I saw one in Bronwyn’s room. It had a capsule attached to its ankle that was designed for carrying messages.”

  “I’ve never heard of ravens being trained to carry messages,” said Joseph.

  “This wasn’t exactly an ordinary raven.”

  Kara put down her knife. “I heard Bathsby and Reginald say something about this too. Sir Reginald even said he felt sorry for the men who were going.”

  Maklavir scratched his goatee and leaned forward on his makeshift seat. “All right, so let’s say for a moment that the army’s going to be ambushed. You want to go running after it? Why?”

  “To warn them.” Kendril looked up at the sun and squinted his eyes. “An army that size should be moving fairly slowly. I might be able to overtake them if I start now.”

  “What about Serentha?” Maklavir continued. “She’s still trapped up there in that palace, you know. Are you just going to leave her behind?”

  Kendril’s eyes simmered. “That army is the only chance she has. If it’s destroyed then everything is lost.”

  Joseph rubbed his knuckles against his temples. “I see,” he said slowly. “Everyone in that army must be loyal to the crown.”

  “And Bathsby hopes to wipe them all out in one blow,” said the Ghostwalker. “If he does, then there will be no one to oppose him. He’ll be able to rule all of Llewyllan.”

  “Kendril,” said Maklavir hesitantly, “the odds of you getting to them before they’re attacked are slim at best. For all we know they’ve already been ambushed.”

  “That’s a chance I’ll have to take,” said Kendril.

  Joseph tapped the flat of his knife thoughtfully against his trouser leg. “Even if you found them it might be too late. You’d be killed along with the rest of them.”

  “I never said it would be easy,” Kendril replied. “But it’s the only chance Jade has.”

  He looked down at the ground a moment, then slapped Simon on the back. “Time’s wasting. I’m off.”

  “I’m coming with you,” said Joseph firmly. “You’ll need a scout.”

  Kendril gave a half-smile. “Thanks, but I don’t think it will be that hard to track three thousand men.”

  Joseph threw his foot up on the stump, and shoved his knife back into its boot sheath. “I see. And you’ve been to the Dagger Hills before?”

  “No.”

  “Well I have, and I can tell you it’s a distinctly unfriendly place. Believe me, you’ll need me just to find drinkable water.”

  Maklavir got up, brushing off his pants. “He’s right, Kendril. We’ll need him to find the way.”

  The Ghostwalker shot Maklavir an incredulous stare. “We? This isn’t your fight, Maklavir.”

  “It isn’t yours, either,” the diplomat replied evenly. “It isn’t any of ours, actually. I promised Serentha back at the Outpost to help her anyway I could, and I certainly don’t intend to back out now.”

  Kara scraped her knife down one of her arrows-to-be, and looked down its length. “If you ask me, you’re all crazy.”

  Kendril pulled out his rifle and checked the flint. “No one asked you.”

  The beautiful young thief cut at the stick some more. “You’ll all be killed, you know. If you’re smart you’ll head for the hills now, and hide out there until this whole thing blows over.”

  “And what about you, Kara?” Joseph asked quietly. “Where are you going to go from here?”

  She threw the arrow down onto the pile beside her. “I don’t have anywhere to go,” she said matter-of-factly. “My brother is dead. He was the last real family I had. Everyone else I know is either dead too or rotting in a Llewyllian prison.” She clenched her hands. “Where would I go?”

  “Come with us,” said Kendril.

  Joseph looked over at the Ghostwalker in surprise.

  Kara gave Kendril a startled glance as well, but quickly shook her head. “I…can’t.” Her voice hardened. “There are still some things here I need to see to.”

  The Ghostwalker slung his rifle back on his shoulder. “Avenging your brother? You want to get bac
k at Sir Reginald?”

  She was silent a moment, staring at Kendril. “Yes,” she said finally.

  “Then come with us,” he said again. “You can’t touch Sir Reginald right now. Even if you could, you’d never escape with your life. The best chance you have to destroy him is to help us stop this ambush. If Bathsby falls, then so will Sir Reginald.” He shrugged. “Either way, it’s your choice.” He turned back to his mule, and tightened the last few straps.

  “Kara,” said Joseph in a quiet voice, “you don’t have to let this rule your life. You’re a free woman now. You can start over again, maybe in Calbraith, or Merewith. I’m sure that—”

  The thief looked over at him sharply, cutting him off. “I’m sorry, Joseph. I won’t let Sir Reginald get away with what he has done. He has to pay, and I’m going to make sure he does. I’m coming with you.” She looked over at Kendril and Maklavir. “All of you.”

  A sudden sadness came into Joseph’s eyes, but he said nothing.

  “Right then,” said Kendril briskly. “Let’s get going.”

  Chapter 10

  The road south twisted and turned for miles, the trees becoming scarcer and the ground more uneven as they went. Rocks of all sizes began to dot the landscape, breaking across the surface of the land in all directions. By late afternoon the trees had all but disappeared, save for a twisted stump here or there. To the south the white-capped Shadow Mountains were quickly wreathed in dark clouds, and thunder rumbled in the far distance. The air turned cold, and a steady breeze whipped across their path as the four travelers continued relentlessly on.

  The Dagger Hills proved to be a desolate, barren environment. The ground rose into steep hills and fell again into sharp valleys, covered with moss-covered rocks and long grass. Occasionally a lone eagle could be seen circling in the sky far above, its lonely cry echoing over the broken landscape.

  Around mid-afternoon Joseph came hurrying back from the other side of a nearby hill, the wind buffeting his greatcoat as he rode.

  “Something wrong?” asked Kendril as the breathless scout came up to them.

  Joseph nodded. Sweat steamed from his mount. “I’ll say. You guys might want to take a look at this.”