Chapter 20 #2
Olivia – humble, practical Olivia – connected with this ancient order of paladins that fought witches?
Yes, Olivia had her mysteries – scars she wouldn’t explain, a skillset that made no sense for a lady’s maid to possess, and contacts with interesting skills that included document forgery and doomsday preparation. But … this?
‘How do you know them?’ Tabitha broke into Gwen’s thoughts like a cord stretched to snapping point. She had taken a step back from them, eyes wide.
‘We don’t,’ Gwen croaked, recognising some rising emotion in Tabitha’s gaze. ‘I promise, we … we had no idea what the owl meant. Isobelle’s maid had a necklace with this on it. I … she can’t possibly be connected with this …’
Isobelle still hadn’t spoken, but Tabitha’s unease reached her, and she nodded slowly. ‘I can’t explain it, Tabitha. But like Gwen said, we didn’t know anything about this Order, or your mother, or … or any of this, until we arrived in Galanty-Uponne-the-Sea.’
Tabitha’s gaze swung between them, searching and intent. Then she bowed her head. ‘I believe you,’ she muttered. ‘Look … you should both go. Before he comes.’
‘But … you’re coming with us,’ Isobelle replied, brow furrowing.
Before Tabitha could reply, the shadows at the far end of the great hall moved, and a sound came floating towards them, weirdly distorted by echoes and the intervening space.
The necromancer was whistling.
Tabitha’s whole body tightened, and she drew back into the shadows of the foyer, beckoning Isobelle and Gwen to follow.
‘I was going to show you,’ Tabitha whispered, her eyes fixed on the distant figure, which was setting things out on a table, looking for all the world like a servant setting out dishes for a grand meal.
‘He did something to me when we arrived – some kind of binding ritual, with my blood.’ She raised her hand, and indeed there was a red line across her finger. ‘I can’t leave.’
Gwen set her jaw. ‘Look, there may be something to magic after all – we all felt that spell in the woods, before it started to go wrong – but surely you don’t think he’s actually trapped you here with herbs and spells? You can leave … just put one foot in front of the other.’
Tabitha turned large, hollow eyes on Gwen. ‘I can’t leave. You think I haven’t tried?’
Gwen gazed around the corner at the distant figure. He appeared to be wearing a dark robe of some kind, the hood drawn up. The object he was placing now was – Gwen shuddered – a human skull.
And he just kept whistling.
A cheery tune, one Gwen recognised from a travelling minstrel who had come through Darkhaven a few months before, about a maiden and a dragon striking up a somewhat unorthodox relationship. Full of limericks and innuendo, a tavern song, designed for laughter and good cheer.
The necromancer adjusted the placement of the skull on the table, and his little chuckle echoed back towards Gwen.
Then he began to stride towards them. Gwen stiffened, and nudged the others until they were behind the pillar, listening to the man’s footsteps. They shuffled a bit to stay concealed, moving sideways to keep the stone support between them and him.
He was now between them and their exit.
Gwen’s eyes scanned the room, until they lit upon one of the torn, ancient pennants – this one was moving slightly, as in a breeze. She caught Isobelle’s eye and tilted her head, summoning her and Tabitha, who Isobelle was holding gently by the arm, to follow her.
Behind the pennant was a section of crumbling wall, beyond which lay the deep indigo-black of the night, visible through a small gap.
Gwen peered back the way they had come, and carefully began levering out a few more stones until she could fit herself through.
She gestured towards the others, but Tabitha shook her head, her eyes wide and face tense.
Isobelle squared her shoulders. Gwen braced herself, recognising that particular gesture of hers. ‘Right,’ said Isobelle. ‘Come with us. Let’s try it, all three of us. You said magic is about belief – we’ll get you out of here.’ She slipped through the opening and then held out her hand.
The young witch swallowed, her eyes round and lips tight with fear, but she took Isobelle’s hand and stepped forward.
And screamed.
Her body spasmed, arching painfully, fingers curling claw-like, eyes wide with agony.
Gwen, acting on pure instinct, reached out and snatched her back across the threshold.
Tabitha sagged in her arms, and Gwen held her close.
She met Isobelle’s gaze over Tabitha’s shoulder – the blue eyes were wide with shock and guilt.
Isobelle wasn’t used to not being able to simply will things to be different.
A muffled, distant exclamation of surprise echoed back to them – the necromancer had heard Tabitha’s scream. Footsteps echoed across the great hall.
‘Go.’ The voice came from Tabitha, hoarse and strained, but herself once more. She got her shaking feet under her, though she still leaned heavily against Gwen. ‘Quickly, before he sees you. You have to leave me and go.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Gwen retorted, briefly and irrationally irritated by the girl’s martyrdom. ‘He’s just a witch, after all. Magic or no, people tend not to do very well with a sword sticking out of them.’
Isobelle added, ‘We aren’t going to leave you here.’
‘He’s not just a witch.’ Tabitha shook her head, ignoring Isobelle and gazing up at Gwen.
Her gaze had softened, searching, sympathetic – strangely intimate, in a way that made Gwen rather want to take a step back before Isobelle noticed.
But Tabitha held on to her arms and said quietly, ‘He has powers I’ve never seen before. He can raise things. Dead things.’
‘Hence the word “necromancer”,’ Gwen replied, brow furrowing.
Tabitha swallowed. ‘He can raise them from your mind.’
Gwen froze. Tabitha’s wide hazel eyes faded from view, replaced by that vast, malignant gold-rimmed slit of despair that haunted her nightmares. The decaying dragon that rose, again and again; the cruel glare of jawbone and teeth that gleamed through the rotting skin.
Into the silence, Tabitha whispered, ‘You have to go. Gwen, you have to go.’
Isobelle was watching them, standing utterly still, her face for once lacking its usual expressiveness. She didn’t ask what they were talking about; perhaps she guessed.
Quietly, Gwen said, ‘We can’t leave you here.’
‘We have until midwinter to find another way,’ Tabitha said, finally pulling away from Gwen, whose body was still rigid.
‘Maybe there’s someone else who can help – your friend with connections to the Order, or …
or something else. His power isn’t endless.
When he raises things, it drains him. Maybe he’ll be weaker, then. ’
Gwen was trying to get her body to uncurl, bit by bit, muscle by muscle. When she spoke, her voice still sounded strange, as though a hand were wrapped around her throat. ‘I promise, we’ll find a way.’
Tabitha found a quiet smile, and though her eyes were still frightened, she nodded. ‘I know you’ll save me.’
Gwen let Isobelle pull her through the gap. Pausing, she looked back to see Tabitha emerge from their alcove, steps hurrying, leading the approaching necromancer away from their exit.
Gwen froze as the man stepped into view, his eyes on Tabitha. His blond hair just so, his genial face the exact opposite of what she would’ve expected to see.
‘What are you doing here?’ asked Lord Bingleton.
Gwen didn’t hear Tabitha’s reply. She felt Isobelle stiffen and draw a shocked breath, having seen him too.
Lord Bingleton? That … that foolish puppy of a man is our all-powerful necromancer?
Never had Gwen been more comprehensively fooled.
How she got herself moving, she didn’t know, but when she finally came back to her senses, she was next to Isobelle on a rocky ledge, their backs pressed against the exterior tower walls.
This part of the tower overlooked the sheer sea cliff, and far below them roiled the inky blackness of the night-time sea.
‘This is worse than the bottomless staircase,’ muttered Isobelle, holding on tightly to Gwen’s arm as she leaned forward slightly and looked over the edge at the rocky shoreline below.
They spent some time trying to climb sideways, looking to encircle the tower and get back to solid ground, but the way back up was sheer. They had two choices: back into the tower, or … down.
Gwen was almost grateful for the confused shock ricocheting around in her head as they began their descent down the cliff face, for wrapping her mind around Lord Bingleton’s villainy made it easier not to focus on the fact that one wrong move could send her – and Isobelle, too – plummeting to an almost certain death on the rocks.
As they neared the bottom of the cliffs, she realised she could see her handholds better. The cliffs blocked her view of the sky to the east, but dawn could not be far off.
Sudden exhaustion nearly claimed her, but she forced herself to keep moving. Every time she offered a hand up to Isobelle, the other girl’s touch reminded her to keep her wits about her. By the time Gwen felt her boots hit sand, she was ready to collapse with relief.
Isobelle did collapse, down onto her hands and knees, shaking. ‘No more climbing,’ she panted. ‘I don’t care how many necromancers are after us. Please, no more climbing.’
‘No more climbing,’ Gwen agreed, dropping to her knees beside Isobelle. Now they were finished, she could feel her muscles shaking with a wrenching combination of relief, suppressed terror and effort. She reached out and squeezed Isobelle’s arm.
Isobelle let out a long, quaking sigh, and wrapped her arms around Gwen, leaning into her hard.
They were safe.
Safe-ish, anyway.
A sound to the right, a sloshing, gurgling sound that had been disguised by the crashing, roaring waves against the rocks, suddenly grew to prominence. They turned as one, in time to see some large object breach the surface of the water.
Straightening with a gasp of confusion, Gwen caught a glimpse of a coral-red tentacle rising out of the waves about twenty feet from the shore, followed by the glistening dome of a head, as if the beast were greeting the dawn.
Disbelief spread through her, her lips parting, though no words came. The wave of exhaustion overtaking her turned to a numb incredulity.
This wasn’t possible. And yet the evidence was before her very eyes.
The sea monster had risen from the dead.