The Frostwoven Crown (Book 4) (49 page)

He pushed these thoughts out of his mind as he closed himself in the study, searching the room for the things he would need. There upon the table was the ghast-wrought dagger that Uncle had left as a gift for Cenick upon his return. Garrett slipped the scabbard into his belt and picked up one of Tinjin’s old rucksacks, stuffing it with the three dusty canisters of essence still on the shelf beside it. He slung the bag over his shoulder and half turned toward the door when the tall object leaning in the corner caught his eye.

Garrett took up Tinjin’s old staff with awed reverence. He looked up at the iron skull that looked down at him with shadowy sockets and an eternal rictus grin. Garrett smiled back, remembering all the times he had seen Uncle Tinjin carrying the staff. He had been carrying it the day he had found Garrett, broken and burned in the ruins of his lost home. To see the old necromancer for the first time… it had been an intimidating sight.

An icy sense of calm spread through Garrett’s body as he realized that
he
was the necromancer now. The weight of the iron felt good in his hands, and he brought the butt of the staff down hard on the floor, enjoying the mournful sound it made when it struck the wooden planks.

Garrett pulled his hood low and straightened the horned skull medallion on his chest before opening the door again and stepping out into the hallway. He turned to face the front door and waited, as silent as the dead he commanded, one hand inside the bag, his fingertips resting lightly on the cool metal flasks within. The other hand held the staff at his side. He glanced up and then rotated the staff slightly as though to give the skull atop it a better view of the hallway.
You wouldn’t want to miss this
, he silently mused.

The two Templars who soon walked through the front door took no notice of him at first. Their eyes must have still been adjusting to the gloom within.

“Captain Gaulve?” one of the men called out, “Captain Gaulve?”

“Where the hell is he?” the other Templar muttered, and then he froze, suddenly noticing the dark streaks on the floor. His wide eyes scanned the length of the hallway, and, when they settled on the hooded form of Garrett, standing there in stony silence, the man jumped in alarm.

Garrett whispered a word in fae, and his staff suddenly erupted in cold blue flames.

“Goddess!” the first Templar exclaimed jumping backward at the sight.

“You dare blaspheme in my presence!” Matron Shelbie cried as she pushed her way inside.

The Templar nodded mutely, his eyes still locked on Garrett.

Matron Shelbie’s eyes went suddenly wide as well.

“Welcome to my home!” Garrett called out, pushing his voice as deep as it would go, “Please come in.”

“Matron, get back!” the second Templar hissed, his hand going to his mace.

“You!” Shelbie screamed in rage.

Garrett acted without thought, thrusting the head of the staff forward, and a bolt of ice blue flame shot from the horns of the iron skull like an arrow. It sizzled through the air between Matron Shelbie and the Templar beside her, striking the half-opened front door and slamming it shut, sealing it with a thick crust of ice.

“I said
come in!
” Garrett laughed. Blue flame crackled around the staff in his right hand even as ice crusted and flaked from off the fingers of his left hand and the essence canister he gripped.

“Captain Gaulve?” the first Templar shouted in desperation.

“Oh the captain won’t be joining us for dinner,” Garrett said with an evil grin he hoped they could see, “We already had him for lunch…
bring them to me!
”

The Templars cried out in horror as six zombies lurched out from the parlor toward them, moaning in unison.

The second Templar pushed Matron Shelbie behind him, and she offered no protest. The terrified trio backed toward the landing of the stairs, and Garrett frowned as he suddenly imagined trying to chase them all over the upper floors of the house. He felt an irrational flutter of embarrassment to realize that his room was a mess, and that it would never do to have his enemies see it in such a state.

“
Oh, crix,
” he muttered and then shouted out, “Hold!”

The zombies paused just beyond the door of the parlor, looking to Garrett for further instructions.

“I will spare your lives… if you drop your weapons and surrender to me now,” Garrett said, “Matron Shelbie, I am placing you under arrest for treason against the city of Wythr!”

Shelbie’s eyes bulged with rage. “How dare you!” she screamed.

“Shut up, Shelbie!” Garrett shouted back.

The two Templars exchanged a brief glance, and then one of them lunged forward, bashing the front door with his mace, shattering the icy crust that covered it. The other man leapt to his side and wrenched the door open before shoving the sputtering Matron Shelbie out into the pink light of dusk.

“Really?” Garrett sighed, rushing to the front door to watch them scurry down the front steps and pile into Matron Shelbie’s carriage to take off down Vaaste Street as though all the forces of hell were snapping at their heels. He blew a puff of air through his cheeks and slammed the door in disgust.

The heavy thump of feet coming up from the cellar drew his attention to the hallway again. Diggs came spilling out of the side hall with a canister of essence in each hand and a wild look in his eyes. He was huffing like a bellows and unable to speak as he looked around, trying to find something to throw magic fire at.

Scupp came in a moment later, pushing her brother aside. “They aren’t here yet?” she panted.

“They got away,” Garrett sighed.

“What?” Diggs moaned. He raised his canister-filled paws questioningly.

“They saw me and ran,” Garrett said, “It was only like three of ‘em anyway.”

“That
is
a pretty scary stick,” Scupp said with a shrug, “How’d you get it to do that anyway?”

Garrett suddenly realized that Uncle Tinjin’s staff was still writhing with cold blue flames. “Oh… uh,” he said, trying to shake free the nearly full canister still frozen to his left palm. He had to bang it against the wall to break enough ice loose to put the canister away again.

He looked up from closing the satchel flap, flexing his numb fingers, to realize the staff was still burning. “Ah…” he managed, at a loss for words.

“What happened?” Warren demanded, wheezing slightly as he entered the hallway, clutching his side.

“Garrett scared off all the bad guys with his flamey magic stick,” Diggs growled.

“Oh, well, what do I tell all these guys then?” he gestured toward the hallway as he stepped back to let even more ghouls come up from the cellar below.

“I’m sorry, but you just missed ‘em,” Garrett said, still trying to extinguish the blue flames that emanated from his staff. He pounded it on the floor experimentally, but the flames just intensified.

“Just missed ‘em?” Diggs asked, “Where’d they go?”

“Off down the street a few seconds ago,” Garrett said, trying to blow the flames out now. They crackled and roiled, forming little tendrils of flame like fiery claws clinging to the iron of the staff.

Diggs threw back his head and howled, startling Garrett from his distraction. Garrett looked up to see the brindle furred ghoul loping toward him down the hallway with wild eyes and drool dripping from his jaws.

“Gah!” Garrett cried, jumping aside and pulling the door open to let Diggs rush out of the house.

Several of the other ghouls joined together in a wild baying howl and chased after him. Garrett was able to poke his head out the door and shout, “Other way, Diggs!” before he had to jump back and let the other ghouls pass.

“Might as well,” Warren groaned and followed after them.

Scupp followed close behind her pack mates. She stopped just short of the door and gave Garrett a grin.

“You comin’?” she asked.

“They’re gone,” he said, “We’ll never catch them.”

Scupp chuckled and shook her head. “You ever try to outrun a ghoul?” she asked.

Garrett hadn’t thought of that. “All right,” he said.

“Try and keep up,” Scupp laughed.

Scupp was already on the street and had turned to follow the others by the time Garrett reached the bottom of the steps. His staff was still on fire. He thought about leaving it behind, but he didn’t want to lose sight of the ghouls, so he jogged after them, trailing sparkling blue embers behind him.

“Hi, Mister Tiggs!” Garrett said, waving at his neighbor who was standing on his front steps with a look of utter astonishment on his face. The elderly scribe waved back mutely.

Garrett thought about trying to explain, but gave up after a moment, shaking his head and saying only, “It’s been a really weird day, Mister Tiggs.”

“Quite so,” the scribe said before turning to go back inside.

Garrett ran after the ghouls, losing sight of them as they rounded the bend in Vaaste Street, headed toward the Chapel Ward. Their doleful baying still echoed above the rooftops, mingled with the screams of frightened townsfolk who had probably never seen a pack of wild ghouls running through their streets before.

Garrett sighed in frustration as he faced a number of side streets, uncertain which way the ghouls had gone. He turned to ask an addled young man in a deliveryman’s uniform if he had seen which way they went, but, when he noticed Garrett standing beside him, the boy screamed in terror and ran away.

Garrett held up the flaming staff in disgust. “Will you please go out?” he asked.

The blue flames sputtered and then disappeared with a
whoosh
.

“Thank you,” Garrett sighed.

“You need me to carry you?” Scupp called out as she emerged from a side street.

“Would you?” Garrett replied sarcastically.

“Sure,” Scupp said, scooping Garrett up and throwing him over her shoulder.

“I was kidding!” Garrett cried.

“Too bad,” Scupp said, carrying him with her as she loped off in the direction of the loudest howling.

“Put me down!” Garrett said. It was all he could do to keep the iron staff from whacking her in the tail as he bounced along across her back.

“In a minute,” she said, “Just keep quiet and let me listen!”

Garrett fumed in silence. He felt one of Scupp’s long ears tickle his hip as it picked up to listen to the hunting calls of the ghoul pack.

“Ah ha!” she laughed and then ran off down one of the side streets with Garrett still across her back.

“What’s going on?” Garrett demanded.

“Diggs and the others cut ‘em off!” Scupp laughed, “He’s herdin’ ‘em back toward the market.”

“Really?” Garrett asked.

“Yeah, if we hurry we can catch ‘em,” Scupp said.

“Go!” Garrett said. He braced himself as Scupp leaned into it, bouncing along on two legs and a forepaw, her right hand still holding on tightly to Garrett’s belt.

People screamed as Scupp burst out from a side street into a crowded market square, full of people trying to finish their shopping before Curfew. Scupp spun searching for any sign of their quarry, leaving Garrett a bit dizzy as he fought to reassure the shoppers with a friendly wave.

“It’s all right!” Garrett cried out, “We’re friendly!”

Scupp simply snarled, baring her fangs at the crowd of people surrounding her. They scattered in terror, clearing the street in a matter of moments.

Garrett frowned at the brindle ghoul as she set him on his feet.

“Easier to see where we’re at now,” she said with a toothy grin.

Garrett shook his head.

Then they heard the clatter of hooves on cobblestones and a deafening rattle as Matron Shelbie’s carriage rounded a corner into view. From the looks of it, it was about to lose a wheel.

“Is that them?” Scupp asked.

“Yeah,” Garrett said, reaching for an essence flask.

Scupp threw back her muzzle and howled at the sky.

More ghoulish howls answered from beyond every rooftop.

Garrett could see the terror in the carriage driver’s eyes and the rage in Shelbie's. Garrett grinned back, leveling the head of his staff at the occupants of the carriage.

“Matron Shelbie!” Garrett cried, “You are under arrest!”

Shelbie opened her mouth to speak, but just then the left rear wheel of the carriage separated from its axel and bounced free, smashing a fruit cart as it rolled away. The broken axel dragged a trail of sparks through the street as the other rear wheel came off and the back end of the carriage dropped and dragged.

One of the Templars fell out onto the street with a curse, and Shelbie wrapped her arms around the remaining Templar’s neck, holding on with panicked strength. Garrett had to laugh at the man’s choked expression as the careening carriage rushed past before slamming into the corner of a nearby building and disintegrating into a pile of green splinters.

The horses dragged the front axel and wheels away, leaving the passengers, stunned in the wreckage of the carriage. Scupp wasted no time in pouncing in, laying out the muddled Templar with a fierce blow to the head. The carriage driver scrambled clear and fled in fear as Matron Shelbie crawled away as fast as she could on hands and knees.