The Tale of Mally Biddle (27 page)

And Mally didn’t like the idea of locking herself in an unde
rground maze full of dead bodies.

“Where do you think she is?” asked Mally as they started down a hall. The floor was packed dirt. They passed row upon row of caskets, their smudged name plaques glinting in Lita’s candlelight.

“Middle?” Lita guessed. Then she cried, “Wait!”

Mally turned to her and watched as she lit a tall candelabra. Mally was amazed Lita had even noticed it. Its silver was so ta
rnished it was the exact same color as the wall.

“So we can find our way back,” Lita explained.

“Good thinking,” Mally praised. She motioned for Lita to stand closer as she wiped grime from one of the plaques.

“A knight,” said Mally. “I bet the royal family would have its own area.”

“A private suite?” Lita joked weakly.

They continued on, deeper and deeper into the catacombs, Lita periodically lighting a few candles to mark the way back to the door. They shivered from the cold and Mally rubbed her hands together. She wished for the tenth time that she’d brought a cloak.

The ever pressing darkness and profound stillness made Mally want to run as fast as she could back to the door, and by the way the candle’s light jerked and jumped about them, she guessed Lita would have agreed with her.

After what seemed like hours—though Mally knew better—Lita finally spoke the concern that she had been pointedly igno
ring.

“We’re not going to find it,” said Lita.

“We will,” Mally assured her, hoping fervently that she was right.

They had come across some areas that opened up into giant caverns. In these chambers, the tombs were large and ornate with scripts and markings carved into the marble caskets. There were no plaques lining the walls. No knights or squires or advisors were housed in here. Instead, the names of these deceased were carved on the lids of their tombs.

“She’s got to be in one of those,” Mally had said when they’d entered the first cavern.

“S’ppose Lumpy got buried with his wig still on?” Lita asked with a nervous chuckle.

But there was no Princess Avona Kellen carved on any of the tombs, so they had moved on.

“Mally, this is silly,” Lita said after they’d passed the third chamber with no luck. “Even if we find her, of course she’ll be in there. Why wouldn’t she be? And we’ve been down here too long—what if Molick’s woken up?” she exclaimed, working he
rself into a panic.

“We have to find her, Lita. We may not get another chance,” Mally insisted, though she inwardly agreed with her. A voice had been screaming in her brain since she’d closed the heavy, wooden door:
Get out! What are you doing? Run, you idiot!

“I can’t stand this,” Lita cried hoarsely. “I can’t—what was that!” Lita shrieked as they both spun around.

“A rat,” gasped Mally, trying to control her breathing. “There are probably millions down here.”

“That didn’t sound like a rat,” Lita argued loudly, her face as
hen. The candle in her hand was visibly shaking.

“Stop shaking the candle!” Mally ordered. “You might blow it out!”

That stilled Lita.

“Come on,” Mally pressed, tugging at Lita’s arm. “I think I see another chamber up ahead.”

With a trembling Lita in tow, Mally entered their fourth chamber. Clearly wishing that she was anywhere else, Lita read the name of the closest tomb.

“King Sebastian!” Lita yelled so loudly that her voice echoed.

“She’s got to be here then!” Mally cried in excitement. “Bring the candle over here. Look at this one!”

They both leaned over the marble casket, holding their breath as the words Princess Avona Kellen danced in the candlelight.

“This is it,” Mally breathed as her heart raced. “Help me push off the lid.”

Lita carefully set the candle down, and with Mally, she pushed the heavy lid. It slowly moved and when it was halfway off, they stopped. Lita grabbed the candle, nearly dropping it in her haste. Heart pounding, she flung it over the open tomb and with Mally gazed into its depths.

The casket was empty.

28
Molick's Triumph

They flew through the catacombs as if a ghost were at their heels. They ran full out, following Lita’s lit path to the door. Lita’s own candle had been extinguished and flung aside. They didn’t bother blowing out the ones that lit their path to the catacomb door. They flickered like winking eyes through the gloom.

Tripping, and blundering, Mally finally spotted the heavy wooden door
.
She and Lita grabbed hold of the iron loop and pulled with all their might as it creaked in displeasure. Fumbling, Mally jammed the key into the lock, twisting it roughly before bounding up the dark stairs after Lita.

They didn’t once slow, speeding madly through the pitch-black corridors to Molick’s sitting room. They skidded to a halt. The door was still shut. Panting, they looked at each other. Were they still asleep?

Mally inched the door open. A loud chorus of snores filled her ears.

“Asleep?” Lita asked in a strangled whisper.

Mally nodded.

She tip-toed into the room and carefully returned the key ring to its resting place at Molick’s hip. 

They didn’t return to their room—they didn’t want to wake Gerda. Instead, they stumbled into a tearoom. It was well past cu
rfew. All the candles in the castle had been extinguished. Lita collapsed into a chair, her legs spread out and limp. Mally’s legs were too jerky to stay still, the whirling in her mind impossible to calm.

“What are we going to do?” Lita asked between deep breaths.

“We’ve got to tell Ivan or Galen,” said Mally, pacing fretfully. This was the proof Ivan needed. “Princess Avona isn’t dead.”

But Lita frowned.

“We still can’t be positive of that.”

“Oh,
Lita!
” Mally exclaimed, stamping her foot. “The tomb was
empty.
”

“So maybe her body wasn’t around to bury. No, listen to me!” Lita jumped to her feet. “She could have been taken out of the ca
stle. She could have been tossed in the ocean!”

Mally flinched at Lita’s words, but then she thought of som
ething.

“Then why did King Salir tell everyone she’d died of a fever? Why did he imply that she
was
buried?”

“Maybe he didn’t want the people thinking she had been mu
rdered.”

“Why? King Sebastian had been murdered,” Mally countered. “Why admit to one and not the other?”

“Maybe he’s known all along what happened to her because he did it himself,” Lita said slowly.

“He couldn’t have!” Mally argued.

Lita raised her eyebrows in surprise at Mally’s sharp denial.

“Why?” she asked. “Because you like him? Because he’s nice to you?”

“No!” Mally shook her head. “He may not know the truth either. We don’t know how King Salir learned of the princess’s death. Molick could have told him she’d died of a fever.”

“But you’re forgetting Molick’s biggest weakness,” Lita said firmly. “He brags. He wouldn’t be able to keep it quiet for sixteen years that he’d killed the princess.”

Mally agreed silently.

Lita pressed her lips into a thin line, her jaws tense.

“It’s after hours. It would be wiser to wait to tell them come morning,” said Lita.

But Mally was too full of adrenaline. There was no possible way she could sleep now.

“It’s not Thursday for another three days,” Mally argued. “We can’t wait that long!”

“But what exactly have we learned?” Lita asked. “We still don’t know what happened to her! We don’t have any proof she’s alive!”

“They should still know,” Mally replied stubbornly. “There was a reason the catacombs were locked up and I think it was because Molick didn’t want anyone finding out the princess is alive and missing.”

Lita frowned at Mally, looking slightly exasperated. Finally, she said, “How do we get out?  We can’t pass the guard at the gate.”

“There’s a trapdoor in the cellar,” Mally answered quickly. “Come on!”

She grabbed Lita’s hand and ran into the hall, heading toward Archie’s kitchen. But halfway to their destination, Mally stopped so suddenly that Lita stumbled into her.

“Aggh!
Mally!
” Lita cried in anger, steadying herself.

But Mally ignored her. She had spun around, staring down the corridor they had just come from.

“What is it?” Lita whispered, looking over Mally’s shoulder.

“I thought I heard something.” Her eyes tried desperately to see into the darkness that engulfed the corridor. A clammy unease crept up her arms and neck.

“Oh, this is
silly.
” There was a strike of a match and Lita held up a burning flame. “Nobody’s there,” she breathed.

Mally tore her eyes from the corridor, turned back around and continued to the kitchen at a jog.

“Archie kept
this
secret,” Lita muttered as Mally lifted the trapdoor in the back of the cellar. “He told you and not me?” she asked, playfully jealous.

“Sammy did.”

“Ah! Where should we go? The Lone Candle?” Lita asked.

Mally nodded and motioned for Lita to follow her down the stairs. Lita handed her the candle and they soon emerged into the worn-down shed outside of the castle’s walls. The night sky was heavily covered by thick clouds, leaving the roads frightfully dark. No one else was out. It had to be several hours past midnight and well past curfew.

“Should we risk the candle?” Mally asked. She didn’t like the idea of traveling the streets in the dark, even though she had done it once before.

Lita shook her head.

Mally blew out the flame and took a moment for her eyes to adjust. They cautiously crept down the streets, keeping close to the sides of buildings and glancing over their shoulders.

It was with deep relief that they reached the Lone Candle and Mally knocked on the door. It was flung open so quickly after her knock that she and Lita both jumped back startled. But Galen wasn’t the one standing opposite them—Edwin was, Galen’s little brother. All blood seemed to have been drained from his face; his entire frame was as tense as a knot. He stared at them, just as su
rprised to see them as they were to see him, but then his face tightened.

“Come in,” he mouthed, waving them in rapidly. As he closed the door, he glanced over his shoulder at the stairs to the bedrooms with trepidation.

“We’re looking for Galen,” said Mally, deciding to get straight to the point.

“He’s not here,” Edwin answered, looking nervously out the dark window.

A violent shiver ran through Mally.

“Where is he?” she demanded. “What’s wrong?”

Edwin’s eyes went yet again to the stairs and he bit his lower lip.

“At a meeting,” he whispered and Mally understood his te
nsion. Of course some of the meetings would happen past curfew, and of course Edwin would not be allowed to join him. Mally wondered how long he had been hovering by the door, waiting for Galen to return … or waiting for his mother to awake and realize Galen was missing.

“Where do they meet?” Lita asked.

“We must speak to him,” Mally pressed when Edwin didn’t respond. “We have information, Edwin.”

Edwin’s wide eyes flickered once more to the stairs clearly leading to his mother’s room. He swallowed.

“I’ll take you.”

In seconds they were back on the cobbled road, Mally and Lita hurrying behind a slightly feverish Edwin.

“I’m not supposed to know where they meet,” Edwin explained in a tense whisper. “I followed Galen one night and I swear, I thought he was going to hit me. I’d never seen him so angry.” Edwin’s legs moved in a rapid, erratic half-walk, half-jog. He led them down a narrow alley way and stopped before a dirty door. Nervously, he licked his lips, perspiration beading on his forehead. He lifted a clammy hand to the thin chain hanging beside the doorframe.

He pulled.

Down in the cave-like room where the rebel members sat around a large table, Cian Raghnall stopped in mid sentence when a small bell sounded in the room. Moving as one, each head turned to the small iron bell nailed to the wall. All breathing seemed to cease as they watched the bell’s movements slow, its sharp ringing fading into the silence. Adam Thain turned from the bell and no
dded to Garren who rose. The pair of them drew swords and quickly but silently climbed the stairs to the door, leaving the others behind at the table. All the rebel members were accounted for. No one else knew of their location. It could simply be a stranger, searching for a place to stay. But it could just as easily be a band of knights.

They had reached the door and Garren glanced at Adam for f
inal instructions. Adam nodded again, gripping his sword tightly.

“Who goes there?” Garren demanded through the door.

“Edwin Dunker with Mally Biddle and Lita Stump. We are unarmed.”

Adam and Garren exchanged surprised glances. A Dunker boy? With the spy? And who was Stump? Curious, but not relinquishing his hold on his sword, Adam nodded to Garren.  Garren unlatched the many locks.

After Edwin had rung the bell, Mally busied herself by keeping watch. It was much too dark to see either end of the narrow alley. Then a gruff voice sounded through the door. Mally’s head spun around as Edwin replied. For someone so young, Edwin impressed Mally. He was terrified—that was obvious—but his voice came out strong and clear. The door opened and a muscled man stood in the doorway. He quickly ushered them inside where another hard-looking man stood. It didn’t escape her notice that they both held swords.

“What is your business?” asked the man who stood to the side as the other latched numerous locks.

It seemed that Edwin had used up the last of his courage for he just stared wide-eyed at the glaring man. Lita looked pointedly at Mally.

“We have information about the princess,” Mally supplied in her companions’ silence.

The man’s eyes widened under his bushy eyebrows. In one swift movement, he sheathed his sword.

“My name is Adam Thain. I am one of the rebel leaders. You are Biddle, correct?”

Mally stared at him in surprise.

“Yes, I am.”

“Ivan pointed you out to me,” Adam nodded. For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, his eyes lingering on Lita. Mally wondered if only she would be allowed any farther—if he would shove Lita and Edwin back through the door. But then his gaze hardened and he addressed the three of them, “Come.”

He led them swiftly down a narrow, dark hallway and then down a set of stairs. At the end of the stairs he opened a door. Candlelight momentarily blinded Mally. Blinking quickly to adjust her eyes, she heard a startled shout.

“Edwin!”

Mally only had a second to take in the room she, Edwin, and Lita had been led to before Galen rushed to them, Ivan on his heels. It was a dreary, grey, stone room filled with men, all of whom also moved forward, though at a slower pace. Mally saw more than one casually place a hand on the sword hilt at his hip.

“What are you doing here?” Galen demanded, his eyes jumping from his brother to Mally to Lita and back again.

“We asked him to bring us,” Mally answered quickly. She didn’t want Edwin to get in trouble.

“And who are
you
?”

Mally turned to see a sneering man with his arms crossed fo
rmidably.

“Mally Biddle,” Mally replied crisply.

“Adam, perhaps another room?” Ivan suggested, cutting a wary glance at the rest of the group who were all staring at Mally and Lita with growing curiosity.

“Yes, perhaps …” Adam agreed slowly. He raised his ey
ebrows, looking specifically at the oldest man in the room. “We won’t be long,” he told the rest.

At his words, a few of the others surged forward, arguing.  But the man with the folded arms simply glared daggers at the lot of them, his mouth twisting into an ugly grimace. Adam dropped a hand onto Mally’s shoulder and steered her to a door on the other side of the room. Ivan, Galen, Lita, Edwin, and the old man fo
llowed closely. Mally heard the old man say something to the rest of the rebels as he closed the door behind him—shutting out their demands.

They were now in a much smaller room and Adam quickly lit a handful of candles. Three moth-eaten and molding chairs were the only furniture.

Ivan immediately jumped forward.

“What happened?”

He must have thought that Mally’s appearance—after he had told her never to seek out the rebels—meant something terrible must have happened. Everyone in the tiny room was staring at the three of them. Lita, it seemed, had left what bravery she had in the room with the angry rebels, and Edwin cut a nervously meek glance at Mally.

“Well?” Ivan pressed.

Mally licked her lips, glancing at Lita.

“We were just in the catacombs.” If Mally hadn’t been so tense, she would have laughed at the reaction her words brought. Each one of the men’s expressions were identical. Open mouthed, wide-eyed shock. They looked as if she had just informed them that she and Lita had run about the castle naked, screaming “Long live the king” at the top of their voices.