Chapter 39
I ENTERED THE TWO-STORY CLAPBOARD building called the Griff-Inn through the open front door, flanked by Farrah and an unsteady Zig. A middle-aged woman stood behind a desk at the front, and a hooded bard sat in the corner strumming a lute, an unfamiliar melody filling the space.
And as before, the duo of mages sat at a table in the small dining area, drinking coffee and eating runny eggs, porridge, and burned toast.
“And then he cried, ‘But where are my magic beans?’ ” Forto said, and laughed uproariously.
Quip followed suit, his ridiculous squashed hat falling onto his forehead, the feather wilting. Their twin staves of ash were propped in the corner, and I flicked my gaze to Zig, who gave me a short nod of acknowledgment in return.
They continued their conversation as we approached, steadfastly ignoring us, as they had the first time. I may have learned a thing or two on this quest, but old habits died hard.
I unsheathed my sword and smacked the blade on the table between them, the sharp edge slicing through a muffin. Quip flinched, but Forto merely turned his head toward me, his lips stretching thin over his toothy smile.
“Well, if it isn’t Ellinore the Fraud,” he said, steepling his fingers. “How pleasant to see you.” He peered past my shoulder. “And your brother.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t say the same.”
His eyes narrowed. “Because you failed?”
“No. Because I just don’t like you.”
He scoffed. “Your manners surely require refinement. Maybe the Pointless Princet can teach you when you’re in the castle dungeon for your lies.”
I did my best to school my expression, but I could feel heat rising in my cheeks.
He noticed, because of course he did. “Oh yes. News travels fast. Tell me, is the Golden Dragon still alive because of a moral compass you possess or because of lack of skill?”
I clenched my jaw and took a centering breath. “Do you want the horn or not?”
Quip perked up from his slump in his chair, robes swishing, boots thumping on the floor as he moved. “You have it?” He licked his lips. “You have the Elder Beast’s horn?”
“I do.”
“Let’s see it, then,” the other said lazily. “And remember, we’ll be able to tell if it’s a fake. Like you.”
It took everything in me not to rise to his bait. “First, promise you’ll release my brother.”
“Of course. That was the bargain. Horn or heart.”
“Say we made it in time.”
Forto rolled his eyes. “You made it in time, Ellinore. If you truly have the horn.”
“I don’t trust you,” I said, grip flexing on the hilt of my sword, my stomach in knots. “I don’t want you to come up with some excuse to not release my brother.”
“We are mages of our word. You’ve held up your end, and we’ll hold up ours.” He nodded toward Quip, who pulled a large purse of gold from his inner robe. He dropped it on the table, the clank of the pieces loud as the pouch struck the wood.
“Good.” I nudged Farrah. She passed the wrapped bundle to me and took the hilt of my sword in exchange. I flipped off the top of the cloth and held the horn across my palms. “This is it.”
The mages stood, chairs sliding back. “It really is it. It’s the horn of the Elder Beast,” Quip said with a tremble in his voice.
“It is.”
Forto held out his hands and I passed it over. He inhaled sharply, fingers touching the velvet at the base and then the bone, running over the ridges. “The power is… incredible.”
Next to my shoulder, Zig gasped. He staggered, falling forward onto the breakfast table. He rubbed his chest with his fist, coughing and wheezing, knocking over a chair in the process.
“I’m free,” he said, voice a breathy shout. “It worked.”
He flopped onto the table fully, then rolled onto his back, his hair falling into the plate of eggs, his wildly flailing limbs flinging cups and plates to the floor. One foot knocked over another chair. It was all wildly dramatic and exactly what I needed.
Forto clutched the horn, admiring it despite Zig’s antics.
But Quip skittered away. “This is outrageous!” he cried, pushing from the table to prevent porridge from flinging on his robes.
The bard in the corner sang, “And now the mage is within reach.”
Oh. Yes, he was. Farrah handed my sword back to me as I grabbed Quip by the front of his robes and slammed him against the wall of the inn. I held my sword edge to his throat.
“Now,” I said, “consider this a robbery. Give me the horn.”
Forto laughed. “You’re not serious?”
“Oh, I’m serious. I’m very serious.” Blood welled along the blade as I angled it for emphasis. “Now hand it over.”
“Forto,” Quip said, strained.
Forto’s mustache twitched. He glanced at his staff propped in the corner.
“Oh, can’t do the little disappearing magic trick without holding that, huh?” I said with a nod. “That sucks.”
His face turned red. Quip made a choked noise.
The bard sang, “Ellinore the Brave has turned to a life of crime.”
What the ancients?
“So she should watch her back.”
What? Oh. I spun quickly, just in time to catch a chair that had been leveled at my head by one of the inn kids. He still gripped the legs, while I blocked the slats with my forearm.
“What are you doing?” I grunted.
“You… you said it was a robbery! I was trying to help.”
Save me from do-gooding bystanders! I dropped my sword, the hilt clattering to the ground.
The whole inn paused, just for a moment, the space of a breath, then descended into utter chaos. With both hands, I was able to push the chair and the kid out of the way. The other bystanders scattered, yelling as they went, knowing better than to interrupt a fight.
But Quip was free and lunging for his own staff.
“Farrah! Zig!”
I dived across the table, grabbing Quip by the robes and dragging him down before he could reach it. He squeaked out a cry as both of us fell to the wooden floor in a heap.
“Get the horn!” I yelled as I rolled and scuffled.
Farrah twirled her quarterstaff, and with a flourish, she brought it down on Forto’s wrist, breaking his grip on the horn. From the force of the blow, the horn went flying across the room.
“I did it!” she yelled. “I did the disarming move!” She jumped in place. “Ellinore, did you see? I did it!”
Forto took advantage of the lapse in Farrah’s attention and grabbed his mage’s staff from the corner. He aimed it at Farrah and sent a blast of power, which knocked her off her feet, right into another table, which collapsed into a pile of matchsticks.
The horn rolled across the floor. I lunged for it, but Quip grabbed my ankle and I face-planted, my nose slamming hard. I kicked backward, trying to dislodge Quip, while I stretched my arm for the horn. My fingertips grazed the bone.
“Ellinore wanted to save her brother.”
I looked up to see Zig and Forto locked in a game of tug-of-war with his staff. The end was jammed into Zig’s stomach, and having just witnessed Farrah flying across the room, I couldn’t imagine what it would do at close range.
“Zig, let go!”
Forto pushed again, Zig stumbling as he released the staff. He fell into the bard, knocking into the lute with a thump.
With a mighty tug, Quip pulled me farther from the horn. I clawed at the floor, trying to move forward to no avail.
“Hey!” Zig yelled. “Let go of my sister!”
Quip screeched when Zig landed on him.
And suddenly I was free. I reached for the horn, and Forto stepped on my hand. He ground the heel of his boot on my knuckles, and I gasped in pain, unable to yank free.
“Well, well, well,” he said. “This doesn’t look like it’s going to end well for you.”
“Hey!” Farrah stood from the pile of rubble. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, blood smearing over her cheek and chin. She pointed her staff at him. “We’re not done.”
She charged, swinging her staff hard, and Forto stumbled backward as he raised his own, barely in time to block the blow.
As soon as he was off my hand, I scrambled to my feet and grabbed the horn. Then I tossed it to the bard, who hid it among his robes.
The bard strummed again. “And Ellinore and her band ran away!”
That was our cue. Zig bounced up from where he’d pinned Quip, and Farrah turned and ran away from Forto. Then the three of us sprinted out the front door.
The sounds of Forto’s yells and Quip’s footfalls were right behind us.
“Split,” I gasped.
Zig ran off one way. I took another, and Farrah a third. They couldn’t follow all three of us, but it didn’t matter anyway. Because the Elder Beast’s horn was securely folded into Rylan’s cloak, and he very serenely stood from his chair in the corner and walked out the back door.