The Unwilling Apprentice (Book 2) (17 page)

Ned shook his head. "No, we ride forward with Cousin Michael and the others."

"We're to be the first line of defense should something go horribly wrong?" she guessed.

"Precisely."

The companions returned to the campsite and spoke not a word of their conversation to the others. Percy was pleased to see them, and greeted them. "I was worried about you all, but I see Father's advice not to worry was prudent."

"You must learn more patience, Percy. These fine people are able to care for themselves," Sturgeon scolded.

Percy bowed to his stoic father who sat on one of the logs around the fire. "My apologies, Father." Fred rolled his eyes. Pat's prince-charming was a daddy's-boy.

"All is well now," Ned spoke up as he seated himself on one of the logs. "And I'm curious to know how you two came to be out here. You mentioned permission from King Stephen."

Percy smiled and took a seat beside Pat around the fire. Fred grudgingly took one beside Ned. "Oh yes, that. We heard about your leaving for the grave this morning, and Father was worried you wouldn't be safe without a large escort. King Stephen wouldn't grant us any more guards, so we came alone as fast as we could. Rough terrain, isn't it?"

Pat smiled. "Yes, very rough. I wonder no one has tamed the area."

Sturgeon chuckled. "No one will come this far into the valley, not since the battle forty-five years ago. The locals believe it's haunted by the souls of the dead soldiers. Foolishness, of course, but superstitions are hard to disprove," he replied.

Fred cringed and glanced nervously around them. He wasn't generally superstitious, but he was on edge after the fright with the dragon and with a black magic castor in the group. Speaking of which, the priest was missing. Ned noticed, too, and commented on the disappearance. "Where is Cousin Michael?" he asked the lords.

Percy nodded off toward the woods. "He said he required sleep, and took his bed in that direction."

"Then the better for us," Ned piped up. He groaned and arose. "Perhaps for the only time, I will say he has the right idea and will join him. Goodnight."

Sturgeon stood up. "A good idea, we had better all turn in for the night. Tomorrow is another long journey, and the performance of the priest will no doubt be interesting."

The youngsters obeyed, and everyone slept until shortly before sunrise. Their rude awakening came from Cousin Michael and his screeching voice. "Hurry, or we will miss the sunset!" he bellowed.

The youngsters sloughed out of their beds, and even Ned glared at the priest out of one tired eye. They hurried along on their horses, fortunate they could give two to the lords after theirs had run off during the dragon fiasco, and clopped along the narrow, winding trail. Their only stop was for a quick lunch, and at mid-afternoon they made an unplanned stop when the brush and trees tapered and the ground opened up to reveal the remains of the old battlefield.

The devastation stretched from one valley wall to the other, and from where they stood to the crag fifteen miles away. Not even a weed grew among the long-undisturbed barren earth, but rocks jutted out and countless mounds rose up in uneven rows. The shimmering light Fred had seen from the mountains were the swords of the fallen soldiers. The weapons had been driven into the ground as markers for the graves, and the number of buried swords was immense. The group beheld that the far-off crag was scarred with scorch marks and blackened tree stumps.

"My god," he heard Pat whisper. Ruth clung to Pat's back, and her wide eyes showed her horror. Even the horses whinnied and pawed the ground. The guards' eyes flitted around and the banner men neglected their duty of holding the banners high and proud.

"Steady there," Ned murmured to them all. Fred tilted his head back and saw that Ned's face was tense.

"What are we dawdling for?" Cousin Michael barked out. His face was ashen and his hands tightly gripped his reins. He spurred his horse forward and the rest of the company followed.

They made straight for the crag, or as straight as the battlefield would allow them. The trail thinned and broke apart according to the whims of the graves, and the companions spread out and marched forward in an uneven line. They reached the base of the crag with thirty minutes left of daylight, and found a rough walking trail that led up to the flat platform some seventy feet above them. Atop the scrag they could see a large, worn banner with the Galaron emblem woven on its cloth.

Cousin Michael slipped off his horse and handed the reins to a guard. "The king is buried in a cave at the rear of the crag. I must perform the ceremony in view of it," he explained to them.

"Then we will accompany you to view this ceremony," Ned offered. At his direction the four companions dismounted, along with the lords and a few guards, and tramped up the trail.

CHAPTER 17

They reached the top with fifteen minutes to spare before sunset, and Cousin Michael prepared a small circle with instructions from the book. He marked out strange symbols on the ground with white chalk, and set candles at four points to create a square outside the drawn circle. Ned kept his distance with the youngsters at his side. Fred glanced behind them toward the peak of the crag, and he could see why the king chose such a spot. The flat rock jutted out over the graves and held a commanding view of the battlefield. It offered a great view of his old victory, if so many graves could be called a victory. Behind Cousin Michael lay the opening to the tomb, an unnatural cave carved from twelve feet into solid rock. Inside was a giant stone sarcophagus set on two platforms, one larger than the one above it. An image of the king was carved on the lid, and even outside the cave Fred recognized the figure from the fountain.

At sunset Cousin Michael was ready. He lit the white candles and sat back on his legs inside the circle. The book lay open in front of him, and black lettering jumped out from the white pages. With the setting sun at his back, the priest raised his hands above his hand and faced the cave entrance. He held his long knife in one of his hands and positioned the blade over his bare arm. "Oh great Phaeton, bringer of fire and destruction. I call you to resurrect your servant, King Stephen George Frederick Carrot Albert Galaron, to once again taste the sweet joy of life that you bestowed on him and took away." Fred cringed when Cousin Michael sliced his arm open over the old wound, but this time he made a much deeper and longer gash.

Fred turned away when the blood spilled on the ground, and noticed the wind around them picked up. A chill set into his bones and dark clouds swept over them. Fred didn't see him, but he heard the chants of the dark priest. "I offer blood for blood. Transfer my life into our dead king, and give him life. Deus adiuva me."

Fred noticed Ned start, and turned to see Ned's eyes full of wrath and fear. Ned rushed over to the priest and knocked aside the candles. Their lights flickered out, and Fred noticed the symbols on the ground were splashed in blood. They glowed with an eerie light, even after Ned smeared them with his feet. Cousin Michael cried out in fury, but Ned grabbed the man's collar and pulled him straight. The old castor's voice boomed over the wind. "You fool! What spell is that?"

Cousin Michael sneered. "The spell to revive the dead, but you've ruined it!" the priest snapped back.

Over the sounds of their bickering and the roaring wind, the group heard a great groan rise from the earth. Trembling, Fred and the others turned toward the edge of the crag. He didn't want to, but Fred knew he had to look over the edge and see what made that noise. He took one hesitant step after another, and didn't notice when Ned dropped Cousin Michael and hurried after him with Ruth and Pat close behind.

Fred reached the edge first, and his eyes widened when he beheld the scarred field alive with things that were very much not alive. Arm bones broke through the mounds above every grave and clawed open gaping holes where arose grinning skeleton heads, fully armored and with burning red flames in their otherwise empty sockets. The skeletons grabbed their swords and pulled them from the ground. One and then another raised their weapon above their heads, and emitted a deep, screeching cry from their empty gullets. Horses with rotted flesh and broken reins broke the surface and whinnied their terrible death cries.

His friends and the guards came up behind him and dropped their jaws in quiet shock. The silence among them was broken by Cousin Michael, who noisily hurried up to them and pushed Fred and Ned aside to get his own glimpse of the valley. He gasped. "This isn't supposed to-"

Ned jumped at him and clasped a hand over the man's mouth, but it was too late. Up till then the skeletons were oblivious to their presence, but with those few words the army turned their glowing sockets on the humans above and below the crag. The men at the base panicked and scrambled up the trail, abandoning their horses to fend for themselves. The beasts raced through the graves, and the skeletons jumped at them like wild animals. None of them made it through the army.

Other skeletons raced after the guards and banner men, and from the trail below them came shrieks of terror and pain. Ned hurried forward with his staff and reached the path at the same time the remaining guards broke over the edge. Skeletons jumped after them, and Ned swung his staff so shafts of light flew at the undead. The light hit the creatures and their bones exploded into dust. Ned positioned himself at the head of the trail and pointed the end of his staff down at the ascending skeletons. A bolt of light shot out from his staff and down the path, obliterating any skeleton in its path and causing the others to retreat.

With that way safe for the moment, Ned whipped his head to the others. "Fred, your staff!" he reminded the boy. Fred nodded and clasped the stick when Ned's voice called urgently to them. "Behind you!"

Though the trail was clear, the skeletons had climbed up beneath the outcropping and reached the edge where stood the small group. A bony hand reached up over the edge and that's when Ned called the alarm. Fred was its target, and he deftly managed to swing his foot out of its grasp. Unfortunately, with one hand clasped at his waist he didn't have proper balance and swung around too far. He knocked into Cousin Michael and stumbled backward toward the edge. Pat's eyes widened when Fred fell back and disappeared over the precipice. She rushed forward, but someone flashed by her. It was Ruth, and the girl dove over the edge after him.

Fred watched in slow motion as he fell away from the crag. He saw that the whole underside of the rock was covered in skeletons, and beneath him he heard them clamor with glee. Fred could just imagine them waiting with open arms and hungry, snapping jaws. He saw someone jump over the edge after him; it was Ruth. She clasped the necklace in one hand, and in a burst of light her true form ripped through her clothes and her wings spread out in back of her. She opened them and reached out a hand for his own. The air whistled past him as he reached out his hand. She snapped him up and stretched out her wings. Fred straightened so he fell feet first as his momentum slowed and relief washed over him.

Until he remembered one very important fact. "I thought you couldn't fly!" Fred exclaimed.

Ruth's face twisted into a grimace and she grabbed his hand in both of hers. "I can't! I'm just winging it!"

Winging it meant they were still dropping, and Fred looked between his feet. The skeletons grinned back at him and raised their swords up. They meant to skewer him. He whipped his head back to Ruth. "We have to get higher!"

Ruth shook her head. "I can't! Gargoyles don't fly, we glide, and there's not enough wind!" They were close to the crag and the rock blocked the gusting wind.

That meant Fred was on his own as they swooped lower over the undead army. The skeletons clambered over one another to grab him, and that gave Fred an idea. He swung around so he faced forward and stuck out his feet. A skeleton climbed high enough to reach him with its bony arm, but he kicked aside the arm and slammed his foot down on its skull. They descended closer to the skeletons and Fred danced atop the skulls of the undead to a drum beat of panic. He left behind him a stepping skull path of decapitated heads and broken off arms.

Ruth gave an exclamation of joy and the ground rushed away from them. They'd found an air swell and rode it high over the army. Fred was given a glimpse of the full horror from above, and he clung tighter to Ruth. The army of the fallen was several thousand skeletons strong, and they clamored toward the crag with broken shields and rusted swords. Their friends and acquaintances on the rock beat back what they could until Fred saw Ned create a barrier around them. The only person who remained outside the barrier was Cousin Michael, who scurried to his circle and clutched at his arm.

The dark spell lay broken around him, but from his arm spewed forth tendrils of shadows. They stretched and flung themselves over the rock, and their power fed the army of the undead by repairing their battlements and bones. If the skeletons were grateful for the help they had a funny way of showing it. The undead things barreled toward him and covered him with their bodies, and Fred heard Cousin Michael scream out in agony as he was torn apart.

The remainder of the party, which included Sturgeon, Percy and three of the guards along with Ned and Pat, turned away. There was nothing they could do to help, as they had their own problems. Dozens of skeletons beat their weapons, shields and skulls against the barrier, and the light grew weaker. Fred furrowed his brow, pulled the stick from his waist and transformed it into the staff. He glanced up to Ruth. "Bring us down there!" he shouted to her.