Dragonsbane (Book 3) (13 page)

Chapter 12

The Plague of Vindicus

They’d been climbing along the cliffs for hours. When Kael tried to see how much further they had to go, drops of sweat rolled into his eyes. “Are we nearly there?”

Kyleigh’s head appeared over the ledge above him. “We’re getting close.”

Kael had to choke his frustration back. They’d been
getting close
for at least the last hour. He didn’t know how much longer he could be expected to stay civil. He knelt and tried to hold still as Baird clamored onto his knee.

“A new day, a new dawn. This is a season of fresh beginnings. Try to enjoy the climb, young man,” he said as he felt for Kyleigh’s hand. When he grasped it, she pulled him up.

Baird had slept through the afternoon and evening, only to wake in the gray hours of the morning. After all he’d been through, Kael expected him to be full of
hmm
s and annoying questions, but he’d been surprisingly quiet. He’d run his hands down the bloodstained hole in his shirt, his mouth parted slightly beneath his bandages.

When Kyleigh managed to find him a fresh tunic among the soldiers’ gear, he asked Kael to help him put it on. One by one the filthy strips of rags fell away. Kael stared at the red, raised mark that ran down the middle of Baird’s chest and found he was still a little surprised.

“I thought your stories were special.”

“Whispercraft,” Baird had admitted as he tore the last of the rags free. “Most craftsmen prefer to work with their hands — they only ever dabble in words. Yes, their days are wasted on iron and stone while words are cast by the wayside. A tragedy, for there is no greater material.” He smiled widely. “Words are powerful and dangerous things — uttered in an instant, yet lasting for an age. They touch the heart, change the mind, and feed the spirit. With nothing else can the truth be bent. The man who understands this may hold the whole realm captive upon his tongue.”

Kael was quiet for a long moment. He remembered the few times when his words had come out as whispercraft: he’d used them to set Aerilyn’s heart at ease, to convince the giants to go along with his plan …

“Why didn’t you force me to tell you the truth? You could have asked me anything you wanted, and I would’ve had to answer.”

The tangles of Baird’s mane had fallen over his bandages as he whispered: “He holds the whole realm captive, yes. Kingdoms rise by his words … and fall at a slip of his tongue. He understands this,” Baird pressed a finger to his lips, “and so he chooses his words carefully.”

An uncomfortable feeling had crawled beneath Kael’s skin. “You mean you can’t always control it? How do you stop your words from becoming whispercraft?” he said when Baird nodded.

“I keep my lips sealed against that which might be troubling, that might be tempting. The only way to truly stop a word is to keep your mouth
shut
,” Baird had scoffed. “You remember that, young man.”

Kael had thought the beggar-bard ought to take some of his own advice. Still, as ridiculous as Baird could be, he’d felt there was some truth in his words. “That reminds me of something my friend Morris said to me once —”

“Morris?” Baird had erupted in cackles. “Oh yes, he would know better than anybody. Morris the Dog would know better!”

Kael had rolled his eyes. Baird had been trying to remember the Dog’s name for days. Guesses had been pouring from his mouth in a near-constant stream: he’d heard of
Haply
,
Riad
,
Carfol
, and
Dewey
the Dog all over breakfast. He wasn’t at all surprised that Baird had latched onto
Morris
.

“Morris the Dog!” he’d sing-songed as he pulled the shirt over his head. “Morris the Dog! Morris the Dog!”

Hours had passed since then. Now the sun had climbed high over the treetops, and Baird had discovered a new phrase to chant: “Toil will sharpen our relief, sweat makes the last step so sweet. Yes, enjoy the climb, young man. Enjoy it!”

Kael had officially run out of patience. “If he tells me to
enjoy the climb
one more time, I’m going to shove him off a cliff,” he muttered as Baird’s knobby ankles disappeared over the ledge.

He’d been talking to himself, but Kyleigh must’ve heard. She stuck her head back over and grinned down. “Already regretting that, are you?”

He was beginning to regret a lot of things — not the least of which had been accepting help from a halfwolf. 

When Kael had told the shamans which way they were headed, Graymange had taken it upon himself to help. “I’ve heard rumors of a great pack of swordbearers who’ve claimed the den at the Valley’s mouth. You’ll never escape their eyes. I can show you a better path.”

Kael had glanced at the bear and hawk shamans. “All right … but what about your war with Blackbeak? I don’t want to get in your way.”

“Each summer, the King travels from his den and makes a journey into the swamps. Blackbeak knows this, and he knows he’ll have no choice but to answer when the King calls. That’s the price of his treachery.” Graymange’s lips bent back over his teeth, baring them in two sharp rows. Kael might’ve thought it was a grin, had his eyes not been so unsettlingly dark. “My brothers are gathering at the place where we’ll end him. I will take you to the path … and return with time enough to purge Blackbeak’s spirit.”

At that moment, Kael had thought it sounded like a pretty decent plan. But now he was beginning to regret it.

Graymange’s way had taken them much longer than he’d expected. He led them off the trails and straight into the thickest, most tangled part of the woods.  Kael spent most of the day leading Baird carefully around each bramble and rock — a task made more difficult by the fact that every time a bird whistled, the beggar-bard would stop to answer.

Kael was tired, sore, and bramble-whipped. And now they seemed to be climbing straight up.

“Here,” Kyleigh said.

Kael stared at her hand, but he didn’t take it.

He’d spent most of the day before freeing all of the caged people. They seemed to have no idea what was going on: the villagers were terrified of the shamans and even more afraid of Kael.

They’d begun fighting the second his hands touched their collars and didn’t stop until he’d broken the dragonsbane in half. He’d been bitten, scratched, and kicked in the shins more times than he could count. A few thanked him once they’d been set free, but most had simply dropped into their animal forms and bolted for the woods. By the end of it, evening had settled and Kael was completely exhausted.

So while the shamans had gathered in a circle to talk, Kael had gone in search of someplace to sleep. He’d found Kyleigh and Baird camped a ways from the road, nearly hidden among the thick shrubs.

The beggar-bard had been sleeping peacefully beneath a soldier’s cloak. Kyleigh had managed to get a small fire going, and Kael had stumbled over to it gratefully.

“I’m sorry I left you on your own. I just … I couldn’t bear to watch,” she’d said without looking up.

He’d walked in a wide arc around her and dropped the armful of dragonsbane collars he’d been carrying onto the ground. He’d planned to wring the blood from them — as soon as he’d healed the gouges in his shoulder.

Kyleigh’s lip had curled at the sight of the collars. Her brows bent low as she jabbed a stick among the embers. “Perfect.
Now
do you understand why I didn’t want to help them?” Slowly, her expression softened. “It isn’t your fault. I should’ve told you, I suppose. But I didn’t want you to think …”

Her words had faded when she finally looked at him. Her eyes had wandered across every bitten, scratched-up inch of his face. When her lips parted, he’d thought she’d been about to scold him.

“Look, I know the shapechangers think those people were Abominations, but I couldn’t let the shamans kill them. They deserve to have a chance — every creature deserves a chance. I’m not sorry for it,” he went on, when she did nothing but watch him. “You can tease me all you want, and I still won’t be sorry.”

“Well, then I suppose there’s no point in teasing you. I’m going to have a chat with the shamans,” she’d said as she got to her feet. “Watch Baird for a moment, will you? It’ll give you a chance to lick your wounds.”

“I’m not a dog —”

Kyleigh had grabbed him under the chin and planted her lips against the side of his face — so quickly that he wasn’t even sure it’d happened. He might’ve doubted it forever … had it not been for the burn.

Fire spread across his cheek as she walked away. It sank beneath his skin and stayed hot throughout the night. Even now, he could feel where her lips had been. He knew that if he took her hand, those flames would rise up once more.

And he wasn’t sure if he could survive the blaze a second time. “I’ve got it. I don’t need your help.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

He got one foot planted and found a crack to slip his hand into. He was looking for the next hold when he realized Kyleigh was still watching him. “Haven’t you got anything better to do?”

“Well,” she glanced over her shoulder, “not particularly. Baird is reciting poetry to a rather scraggly bush, while it looks as if Graymange is … relieving himself on it.” She laughed and propped a hand against the side of her face. “That’s one thing I don’t miss about traveling with wolves. They’re always stopping to mark where they’ve been.”

“I feel sorry for that bush,” Kael said as he pulled himself up to the ledge.

“A little wolf water isn’t going to hurt it.”

“No, I meant about the poetry.”

Her brows arched high and her smile gave way to laughter. “I can’t believe it — Kael’s finally told a joke. Come here, you.”

Before he could protest, she grabbed him by the back of the shirt and pulled him over the ledge.

At long last, they reached the end of their climb. Kael knew it had to be the end when he saw the slick wall of rock in front of him. There wasn’t so much as a crack to hold onto. “What now?”

Graymange rose from his wolf form and pointed towards a narrow ledge. “The path is just through there. Follow it out to the end, and it’ll lead you to the mountain’s road.”

When Kael hesitated, Kyleigh slipped past him. She edged out and she leaned forward into a slight crack — making it look as if her head went through the wall. “I see the path … though it’s going to be an adventure and a half getting through all these thorns.” She slipped in one limb at a time until the crack swallowed her up. 

Kael knew he should get moving, but something Graymange had said troubled him. “There aren’t any roads through the mountains.  Are you certain we’ve come the right way?”

Graymange’s sunken-eyed stare took him in for a moment before his hand fell heavily on Kael’s arm. “Safe journey, mountain child.” Then he slipped into his fur and trotted away.

“What a strange fellow,” Baird said cheerily. “Sometimes I think I hear two footsteps, and other times I swear there’s four!”

Kael sighed. “Come on.”

Once he’d made certain that Baird was latched onto his pack, they slipped between the rocks. At its thickest, the crack might’ve been as wide as a man was tall. But it was filled so tightly with grasping nettles that they had to turn sideways just to squeeze through.

The nettles grew up the walls like vines. They jutted out on both sides and scraped the tops of their heads. Though Kyleigh cleared a path with her sword, there still wasn’t much room to squirm.

Baird pulled back suddenly, choking Kael with the strap of his quiver. “Gah! Oh dear, oh me! Some grasping villain has snagged my pack. Hands off, thief! Back —
back
I say!”

The beggar-bard’s skirmish with the nettles very nearly got Kael strangled by his strap. “Just leave it, will you? We’ve got plenty of supplies to go around.”

Baird snorted. “Leave it? Listen to him, will you? I can’t just
leave
it, young man. Do you have any idea the sort of treasures I’ve got stashed in here?”

“No, but it can’t be anything too valuable. Otherwise you wouldn’t have to be a beggar.”

At that exact moment, Baird managed to rip his pack free. He also managed to slam one of his knobby elbows into the small of Kael’s back. “Did it ever occur to you that I might’ve been a beggar because I wanted to be?”

An exasperated sigh came from up ahead. “
Why
didn’t we think of that? It makes complete sense,” Kyleigh said.

Kael hoped she was joking.

Baird shook a finger in the direction of her voice. “It wasn’t the most glorious of tasks, but I was chosen for it! Fate never uses the obvious things.”

He went to sling his pack over his shoulders in a dramatic arc … and wound up getting it snared in the nettles above him.

The straps were so fantastically tangled that Kael had to spend several minutes cutting them free. The thorny leaves seemed to protest his every swipe: no sooner did he manage to cut through one of the wiry branches than it would pop up and scrape his fingers in revolt. He was grateful when the crack finally ended.