The Fanged Crown: The Wilds (34 page)

Liel looked up at him. When Cardew’s eyes locked with hers, he took an involuntary step back, the fear evident Ša his handsome features, liel’s palms were open to the sky, her head tipped back to the sunlight, and from her hps tumbled •’- the words borne of all the power the jungle had to offer.

“Idsst* she marled at him. “You forgot that when the Torque left, xsy magic came back.”

As Liel rose to her feet, her body quivered with ferocious energy and her presende dominated the hall. Cardew and the husk-soldiers shrank away from her presence, and she swung her head around to look at her friends.

“Get behind me,” she commanded them, and they scurried to obey. Above the hole in the roof, the swatch of blue sky darkened into a vortex of black storm clouds. The soldiers on the edge of the hole lowered their bows and looked up in confusion as a volley of lightning cracked out of the sky. It slammed into one of them, scorching his body into a burned slab of flesh. The impact knocked the other archers off the edge and sent them tumbling down into the hall. When their smoking bodies hit the ground with a sickening thud, the soldiers on the ground turned and ran.

Before they could scramble up the debris pile and out of harm’s way, gusts of air spun down from the sky and formed a wall in front of Liel. She rammed her arm straight out from her shoulder and, at her command, the currents of air swirled across the hall in an unavoidable torrent. Catching men both dead and alive in its wake, it tossed them across the hall as if they were no weightier than fallen leaves. Bodies slammed against columns, their spines breaking on impact. The stained glass cracked inside the window frame. As the wind died down, the loose glass fell from the frames and rained down into the hall in a cascade of red and blue fragments that smashed onto the rubble-strewn floor.

Unmolested by the wind, Harp, Boult, and Kitto gawked at the extent of the destruction wrought by Liel’s spell. The rush of wind stilled, leaving only white currents of air that eddied around the bases of the pillars. Liel pressed her hands together, and the white currents joined together to form the links of an ethereal chain. One end of the chain wound itself around the leg of a body slumped at the base of a column. Liel jerked her arm backward. As if pulled by an invisible

hand, the chain dragged the limp body across the expanse of broken glass where it came to rest in front of her.

“You’ve gotten some serious power since I saw you last,” Harp said in awe, staring down at the broken body of Cardew lying at the elf s feet.

“He’s not dead,” Boult said as Cardew moaned and blinked his eyes.

“Liel,” Cardew whispered, his blood-splattered lips barely moving. “Please help me.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Boult insisted. “After that display of magical prowess, healing the bastard would be anticlimactic.”

“Boult would be most disappointed,” Harp agreed. “It’s all right that Liel killed him and not you, right?”

“Oh yes,” Boult said. “It just feels right, don’t you think?”

“I’m going to give him a chance to save himself,” Liel said quietly.

“What?” Boult sputtered. “You can’t be serious.”

“Tell us what we need to know, and I’ll save you,” Liel promised Cardew.

“Of all the idiotic…” Boult began.

“Just let Liel talk to him,” Harp put a restraining hand on the dwarfs shoulder. “Go look for the elixir, why don’t you?”

“Why don’t you look for the elixir?” Boult said stomping off to the debris pile. “There’s no reason in the infinite heavens to let that dog live.”

“What is Tresco planning?” Liel asked.

“Overthrow Anais and put Ysabel on the throne,” Cardew whispered.

“We know that already!” Boult yelled from across the room.

“Why did he say that Ysabel had forsaken you?” Liel asked.

“Somehow she figured out what we were doing in the jungle. It disgusted her. I disgusted her.”

“You disgust everyone,” Boult yelled again, kicking chunks of the guardian’s flesh around on the floor as he searched for the vial.

“If Tresco finds out how much she knows, he’ll kill her,” Cardew moaned. “You have to protect her. She’s an innocent in all of his plans.”

“Did Tresco mastermind the Children’s Massacre?” Harp demanded.

“I don’t know,” Cardew said. “He must have been involved… But I don’t know.” “Where is Ysabel?” Liel asked.

“At Kinnard Keep. She’s been in Tresco’s care since the massacre,” Cardew whispered.

“Does Tresco know about the elixir?” Liel asked.

“What elixir?” Cardew rasped. His breathing was labored, and blood seeped out from under his body, staining the dusty floor.

“The elixir I have,” Boult said triumphantly, holding up the slimy, though unbroken, vial of blood. “Safe under Shristisanti.”

“Poor Verran,” Harp said as he watched Boult slipped the elixir into his pack.

“He was one, you know,” Kitto said. “A warlock. I saw the marks on his back when I pulled out the glass. They looked like brands.”

“So he made the pact,” Harp said sadly. “Just like his father.”

“But he wasn’t ail bad,” Kitto said. “He just didn’t know what to do.”

“I aeed to get the elixir back to the dwarves,” Boult said, covering Verran’s body with a cloak. “I need to find out if Majida is all right.”

“And we need to get to Tethyr and help Ysabel,” Harp said.

• “Can you reopen a portal?” Harp asked Liel.

“Only with the scroll,” she explained.

“The spell scroll in the colony,” Boult reminded them. “I left it under the floorboards in the hut.”

“I know where you’re talking about,” Liel said. “But we’ll have to get back there fast.”

“Are you sure you want to split up?” Harp asked Boult.

“I have to get the blood back to the Domain,” Boult said urgently. “It’s the only place it’s safe.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Kitto asked Boult.

“We need you,” Harp told Kitto. “We’ll probably have to fight Tresco while he’s wearing the Torque.”

“Which means that Liel won’t be able to use her magic,” Kitto pointed out. “If that happens, I won’t be able to do much.”

“Hit him on the head with a rock and steal the Torque?” Harp said after a moment.

“It’s so stupid that it’s brilliant,” Kitto grinned faintly. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Harp.”

“That’s Captain Harp to you, sailor,” Harp grinned back at him.

“What are you going to do about Cardew?” Boult asked Liel.

“I don’t know,” Liel said helplessly. “Iguess I’ll heal him and take him back to Queen Anais. Let her decide what to do with him.”

“He can tell her what Tresco has been doing in Chult,” Harp pointed out. “What do you think, Boult?”

Boult hesitated. “I’ve wanted him to suffer for so long. I wanted him to die as painfully as possible. And now that the moment’s here, I just don’t care.”

“All right, we’ll let Queen Anais decide,” Harp agreed.

But Kitto stepped forward and calmly shoved his sword into the base of Cardew’s throat. Cardew opened his mouth in surprise, but no words came. Kitto pulled his sword out,

and blood welled out of the wound, flowed down Cardew’s neck and chest, and stained his snow-white shirt. In the time it took for the others to comprehend what had happened, Cardew was dead.

“He tried to kill Liel,” Kitto said unapologetically. “He framed Boult. He tortured Harp. What about what he did to me? The Branch of Linden owned Captain Predeau. Their coin kept him going. He treated me like a slave and nearly beat me to death. If you weren’t going to kill him for yourselves, then he was going to die for me.”

“All right, fine with me,” Harp told him without hesitation.

“Good riddance,” Boult agreed.

“I have an idea, Boult,” Harp said as they prepared to climb up the ropes that had been left by Tresco’s men. “Instead of Tethyr, let’s meet on the Moonshae Isles.”

“The cove?” Liel asked as a huge smile spread across Kitto’s face. “Does Boult know about the safe haven?”

“Harp’s talked about it so damn much, I could find it in my sleep,” Boult said. “How long do you think it will take you to reach Ysabel?”

“As long as it takes to get to the camp and open the portal,” Harp answered.

“Try to make it fast,” Boult urged them. “You have to get to her before Tresco does.”

“We’ll hurry,” Liel promised.

“Safe home, then,” said Harp, extending his hand to Boult, who clasped it warmly.

“Safe home, brother,” Boult replied.

4 Flamerule, the Year of the Ageless One

(1479 DR) Kinnard Keep, Tethyr

Hello, Ysabel,” Tresco said as he stepped through the door and into the warm air of the atrium. The glass atrium was on the western side of Kinnard Keep, and Ysabel insisted that the gardeners keep flowers blooming all year round, especially in the cold winter months when the outside gardens were barren and lifeless.

Surrounded by jade plants and hanging baskets, Ysabel sat at a stone table near an ornamental tree blooming with crimson flowers. She wore a light blue dress with white embroidery down the sides, and her hair was pulled back in a loose braid. The leather-bound book on the marble tabletop looked vaguely familiar—probably one from Tresco’s library—but she wasn’t reading when he opened the door. Instead, she’d been staring out at the

windswept heath through the condensation on the glass panes.

“Good day, Uncle,” she said politely, her hands resting demurely in her lap. “Are you back from your business so soon?”

“Yes.” Tresco set a leather case on the table in front of her. “I returned yesterday afternoon, but the servants said you had already retired to your quarters, and I didn’t care to trouble you.”

“Is Master Cardew with you?” she asked, glancing at the case and then up at Tresco.

“He is.not.” Tresco answered. “Am I to understand that the two of you quarreled?”

“It was merely a trifle, Uncle,” she replied. “Please sit and tell me about your journey.”

“Why do you sit in the atrium? You know it’s the least protected room in the castle. And where are your guards?”

“They are merely out of sight,” Ysabel replied obliquely.

“That is not acceptable,” Tresco fumed. “They have orders to guard you at all times …”

“Won’t you sit?” Ysabel said sharply.

“I do not wish to,” Tresco said irritably. That wasn’t true at all. He had planned on having a leisurely lunch with the girl. It was so unlike Ysabel to be anything but compliant.

“Then leave, Uncle.” She looked away from him and opened the leather cover of her book.

“I’ll remind you that this is my house, and you are my ward,” Tresco said in a firm tone.

For a moment, Ysabel sat frozen and stared down at her hands. But when she looked up at Tresco, there was a placid look on her pretty features. Tresco felt his frustration ease. That was the expression he was accustomed to seeing on Ysabel’s face. Now, they could enjoy a pleasant afternoon. “My apologies, Uncle. My thoughts weigh heavily on my mind.”

“What is wrong?” Tresco asked, pulling out one of the

wrought-iron chairs. It scratched across the paving stones with an irritating metallic sound. “Are you upset with Cardew?”

“When I last spoke to him, he told me that you two were going to secure an object of great importance.”

“Did he?” Tresco’s anger reappeared instantly. Declan Cardew had to be one of the dimmest people he’d ever had the misfortune of working with, including the ogres at the Vankila Slab. “Well,-Declan shouldn’t have troubled you with such nonsense. It’s none of your concern.”

“Are you angry with him?” Ysabel asked.

Tresco sighed. “Cardew is useful, but not necessarily the brightest man in the realm.”

“Useful how?” Ysabel prompted.

“Like a gilded sign above a merchant’s door,” Tresco replied. He enjoyed his quip although he didn’t expect his ward to understand his private jest. But Ysabel looked at him without confusion.

“A merchant who sells flour sacks filled with sawdust,” she replied.

“What did you say?” Tresco asked in surprise.

Ysabel gave him an accommodating smile. “I have begun to doubt…the quality of Cardew’s character.”

“That’s interesting,” Tresco said, with a sense of relief that her comment had been about Cardew and nothing more substantial. “I have as well.”

“Do you still want me to marry him?”

Tresco pushed back his chair back from the table and paced up and down the flagstone path. Ysabel watched him patiently. It was too warm in the atrium, and there was an unpleasant scent of acrid earth and overripe fruit in the air, but neither guardian nor ward seemed to notice.

“Unfortunately, my plans have changed,” Tresco said finally. “I don’t think he is the right match for you after all.”

“What a surprise.” Ysabel didn’t sound surprised at all.

“Yes, my dear. I have made other arrangements for you.” Tresco stopped his pacing and came to stand beside her chair.

“Before we discuss your plans for my future,” Ysabel said, “let’s talk about what’s in the case.”

“Why should we talk about the case?” Tresco asked.

“Because that case holds the culmination of your life’s work,” she explained. “Work that was never yours to begin with. Evonne discovered something miraculous, and when you found her manuscript, her research propelled you to things far beyond your comprehension. She was the giant, and you just used her to become what you are.”

Tresco narrowed his eyes. “Did Cardew tell you that? In some aspects, you are correct. Based on your mother’s notes, I discovered the existence of a powerful artifact.”

“That’s what you brought back from the jungle—the artifact?” Ysabel asked, resting her fingertips against the old leather of the case. “And it’s in here?”

“No,” he replied with a self-satisfied smile. “It’s around my neck.” He adjusted the collar of his tunic to show Ysabel the twist of tarnished metal around his throat.

“What a pity,” she mused.

“Why?” He was perplexed and unnerved by her manner. She seemed different. Her spine was as straight as an arrow, and her voice sounded deeper than the little-girl’s voice he was accustomed to hearing from her.