Chapter 42
Alaric
The sickening tug inside the cavity of my chest makes me lurch forward a step before I right myself. Raban looks around, brows knit in concern. “Are you alright?”
I shrug it off. “It is nothing.” Then immediately I wonder why I was not honest with him.
As we walk on, gaining on Thornvale with every step, the compulsion becomes a faint draw like a rope around my middle.
Since I am going in the right direction to answer Melantha’s call, I feel nothing more than this.
If I stop, though, or deviate from the course, I would find each step increasingly more difficult until I find taking the next impossible.
Experience has taught me not to fight it.
My companions still chat amongst themselves, wondering at having been able to walk and talk during daylight hours. The sun has already set and the woods have dropped back into dark, but for them this is life-changing.
“That must be why évandre always wakes last, but sleeps first,” Corvin says.
“That makes no sense. What does that have to do with it?”
“No, I think he’s right. Because the light touches me first while you are both still in shadow. Then at dusk, as it sinks lower, you are in shadow again while the last rays fall on me.”
Their words wash over me while I dwell on the rising threat. What has she called me for? Does this mean she has found Guin? Or is this something less sinister? If I try to avoid her will I reveal my hand too soon?
Raban nudges me. “Something is troubling you.”
My first instinct is to brush him off again, but that is an old habit. A reaction made natural through practice rather than something that will serve me with him. I clear my throat. “I did not mean to alarm you, but the queen has called me. I am trying to work out what her motive might be.”
Corvin has clearly overheard. He and évandre fall silent and he glances over at me. “To use you for her nefarious purposes, of course.”
I scowl at him, and he falls silent.
“Do you still think it best to go on?’ asks évandre quietly.
I consider. “What if she has Guin? We cannot abandon her. It would be better to arrive during the night, though, so the three of you can disable me if necessary. We are not far. If I was not so worried about Tharrok we could go faster, but as it is, he risks going lame if I push him harder.”
“We will fly on ahead and search for her,” says Corvin. “If there is no trace of her between here and the town walls, we will circle back.”
“No,” I say. “Keep going and watch for me at the east tower; the top window is the queen’s solar. I will hurry there as fast as I can.”
I wait so long at the gate the restless tugging inside me almost compels me to climb the walls and leave Tharrok outside. I holler up at the guards, who seem completely absent for what feels like an age, when finally a head pops over the top of the wall. “Who goes there?” The voice is young—scared.
Who is this boy who has been allowed to watch the gate so late at night? “Where are the guards?”
The boy straightens until I can see his chin and all of his overlarge helmet, lowering his voice an octave. “I am a guard of this city.” The effect is undermined when the helmet slips forward over his face.
“The hell you are,” I mutter. “Let me pass!”
“Who goes there?” he repeats.
With a sigh, I give him my full title, and he still hesitates. I am growing frustrated. What commotion could be going on within to cause them to station children at the gates? It bodes ill. “Boy, do you know the stories about me?”
His voice wavers. “Y-yes.”
“Then you know that if I wanted to, I could scale these walls and eat your soul, but I will not if you hurry up and let me in. My horse needs stabling and fodder.”
The boy swallows. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” The gate is raised shakily as if the huge iron crank is too heavy for him. No doubt it is.
I duck underneath as soon as Tharrok can pass through behind me. The first sight that accosts me is that of several fires burning in the town. Distant screams and shouts echo across the open land, and I curse.
I hurry to tie Tharrok with the guard’s horses, only to find a single gray mare housed in the guardhouse.
But there’s no time to question why one boy was left to man the wall alone.
I doubt he will be able to give me sensible answers either.
He looks as if his mama sent him out here to keep him out of trouble.
With a whispered apology to my equine friend, I remove his saddle and harness and give him the briefest of rub downs. The rest will have to wait, though he can take me no farther.
As I approach the first buildings, a young lad comes running toward me in a panic. “The dead walk again.”
He runs past before I can question him, not that I need to.
I pick up my pace, fearing I know all too well what is happening.
The town is in chaos. One house I pass is burning, the thatched roof completely alight.
Sparks fly and catch on the nearby roofs, and soon the whole row will be in danger.
I wish I could help, but there is the compulsion drawing me on toward the queen and, stronger still, the cold aching fear that has settled in my bones that Guin is in trouble.
A lurching unnatural figure staggers between the burning houses. Its head hangs off its shoulders and one leg appears broken. It staggers on, and when I reach for it, my mind skims over it. The vessel is occupied.
I do not linger to work out this puzzle. Rather, I keep moving, hoping against hope she has not been discovered.
The guards at the gate to the inner keep step into my path, weapons at the ready.
“Step aside,” I growl.
“None shall pass by order of the queen.”
“You idiot. Do you think Her Majesty will not want me?”
They glance at each other nervously.
I sigh. “You would be better off helping put out that fire. If it spreads, the whole town might be in flames by morning.”
“We were told to keep our post, sir.”
I shake my head. “Do as you will. Only let me pass. Unless you want to join the numbers of the dead.”
There’s a pause, and finally they lower their weapons and stand aside. I jog into the courtyard and look around. Rather than the commotion I’m expecting, the area is still and quiet. Where are my hunters? Where are the rest of the guards?
As I make my way inside, I find guards stationed at every door which leads toward the queen’s solar. So she knows she is under threat, but does she know what the threat is?
There is no sign of Guin anywhere I can find. Nor the gargoyles. I have to hope they found the right window and they’re waiting to swoop in should the need arise. I will simply act the way I always do and give away nothing, not until I figure out what is going on.
Reluctantly, I take the steps up to the solar, unsurprised when I find guards at the door.
“The queen has sent for me.”
The guard steps aside and opens the door, and I step into the room.
The air inside is thick and hot, smoky, as if the fire is burning wet wood.
Melantha sits at her dressing table as usual, though the mirror is covered.
Lines I’ve never seen before show around her mouth and eyes and her skin looks thin.
A quick glance reveals nothing else unusual.
“You called.”
“Where have you been?”
I keep my expression neutral as within my chest compulsion gives a strong tug. “In the Gloamwald, as you instructed.”
Her eyes narrow. “Where is my blood?”
“I have none. You called me back before I could collect any.”
“And yet the castle is apparently besieged with monsters.”
“Not ones with blood.”
“It is an inconvenience. It is little good calling monsters from the woods if we cannot harvest them. Dead things are good for nothing. You will have to go back into the woods. I am beginning to see wrinkles.”
I ignore her jibe. “Calling monsters?”
She lets out a harsh laugh, touching the charm at her neck which hangs beside the key to my phylactery. “Of course. What do you think has made certain there were always enough of them to harvest? I need you to get rid of whatever is causing these wights, but first, my blood.”
“And that is your priority? Not the townsfolk, not the kingdom?”
“Do you think I care what happens to the townsfolk?”
Hatred rises like bitter bile in my throat. The only saving grace is that she thinks the townsfolk are responsible for the wights walking the streets. “You do not care about anyone but yourself, do you? You might have called me to help them.”
She turns to me and her gaze is cold and calculating. She stands suddenly, pushing back her chair and clutching the bone pendant around her neck. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you were responsible for these walking dead.”
I consider my words carefully. “I am not the one responsible.”
She steps closer, and the chill in my bones aches in all my joints. “Tell me exactly what you have been doing and do not lie to me.”
Magic wrenches at me, sucking the air from my lungs until my voice comes out hoarse. I fight it as long as I can, trying to choose my words carefully. “Thinking…about how you die,” I force out.
She laughs. “Oh, but that’s not all, is it? Tell me everything.”
I’m bent over double, and the words come tumbling from me before I’m ready. “No. That’s not all…” My fists clench at my sides. I must protect Guin. “I also learned what true devotion and true love feels like.”
The queen’s face freezes into an icy mask of surprise for a moment as she straightens to her full height and glares at me. “And who taught you this?”
“One more beautiful and more of a queen than you could ever be,” I grit out.
Melantha’s nostrils flare. “Who?”
Before I can answer, the door to the dressing room behind her bursts open and Guin darts out, knife drawn. She was here all along! I hope she heard my words. She deserves them, but her being here puts her in danger, and now that I’ve revealed my secret, Melantha will most certainly take advantage.
She rushes at Melantha, but the queen dodges.
“Stop her!” Melantha shouts to me.
I fight it, but the magic propels me into motion. “I’m sorry, princess,” I whisper, grabbing for her.
She lunges, ducking out of my grip and toward Melantha, but instead of stabbing the queen, she snatches the cloth from the mirror behind her.
Melantha shrieks, snatching something from the dressing table and flinging it into Guin’s face. Guin stumbles back, wiping at her eyes.
“The mirror!” Guin shouts.
I look again, but all I can see is our reflections. I do not understand. And I’m having more and more difficulty fighting the queen’s command.
“Kill her!” screams Melantha.
At least that one can be ignored.
A guard bursts into the room and looks in confusion between the princess, me, and the queen, probably trying to work out what on earth is going on.
“The princess!”
Melantha glares at him. “Is gone. This must be an imposter.”
“You’re the imposter.” Guin circles the room, keeping away from me.
Melantha throws up her hands. “Why will no one obey my command? Kill her.”
I laugh. “She’s already dead.”
Melantha stares at me.
The poor confused guard draws his weapon and lunges at Guin, and she’s forced to dodge and parry his blow.
“So you made her like you, did you?” smirks Melantha. “Your mistake. Give me her heart.”
My body lurches into action again against my will. “No! I cannot.” I’m staggering toward Guin even as I fight it. “I gave it back to her.”
“You fool.” The queen laughs triumphantly. “Catch her. I’ve always wanted to see if a lich could survive burning. She can be my experiment, and if you keep resisting me, you can be next.”
Horrified, I try to escape the compulsion, but it’s too strong.
Guin knocks the guard’s weapon to the ground and pivots in time to stab at me as I grab for her again. Even while I’m sluggish, fighting the magic, doing my everything not to harm her, she is still smaller and weaker. And she’s not expecting me to simply block her blade with my arm.
The sword sinks deep, and I grunt as the blade slices into my flesh and buries itself there. But the princess isn’t quick enough to pull it out before I clamp my hand down over her wrist and squeeze.
Bones crack.
I wince as I break her wrist, and she drops her grip on the hilt. She twists and pulls away from me, slipping through my arms.
Where are the gargoyles? They promised to stop me.
I look over my shoulder but the dark night sky has turned dusty orange and three frozen stone faces look in at the window as if they were carved there in the act of entering.