Chapter 44
Forty-Four
Vaskel squatted, quickly finding the narrow opening in the stone wall that sat at ground level. The faintest flicker of light crept from it, and Vaskel knew he was seeing the glow of a dungeon torch.
A hoarse laugh echoed from below. “You can’t hide from me, Vaskel. The scent of brimstone gives you away.”
The hellkin cursed under his breath. Every fiber of his being told him to walk away. Nothing good could come of seeing Malek. But how did Malek know about Marina?
“What do you want?” Vaskel asked.
“To help you, of course.”
Malek sounded so much like the mage he’d crewed with that the world seemed to shift under Vaskel’s feet, rushing him back to the days of planning quests together and sharing meals over campfires. He curled his hands into fists, letting his fingernails bite into his flesh.
Malek wasn’t that mage anymore. He hadn’t been since dark magic had consumed him. He’d been a stranger since he’d tried to kill his friends.
“Like you helped Pirrin?” Rage trembled Vaskel’s voice.
There was a sharp inhalation. “I thought you wanted to know where the female hellkin is, but if I’m mistaken—”
“How do you know her?” Vaskel snapped.
Another laugh crackled through the cold air. “She’s clever—and persuasive.” Then Malek’s voice changed. “But as far as hellkins go, I prefer you.”
Now Vaskel laughed, the sound mirthless and brittle.
“I’d much rather talk face to face.” Malek’s voice grew distant, as if he were walking away from the high dungeon vent. “Come see me and I’ll tell you everything you want to know—where you can find Marina and Cali.”
Vaskel’s heart lurched, and he swallowed a growl begging for release.
He’d be a fool to fall for Malek’s tricks, but how did Malek know about Marina and that Cali was with her?
So far, there was no word from Thrain, and he wasn’t even sure where Erindil had gone.
As far as he knew, they were both at the mercy of Marina and her hellkin crew.
Without another word and without giving himself any more time to talk himself out of it, Vaskel backed away. He picked his way through the murky undergrowth, his boots squelching as the icy mud sucked them down, until he reached the castle gates.
There was no sign of Erindil or Thrain, and dread slithered down his spine even as he squared his shoulders.
Vaskel reached up and pulled Crumpet from his shoulder. “Your job is done here, little friend. It’s time for you to fly home.”
The flutterstoat gave a defiant shake of his head, even folding his tiny arms across his chest.
Vaskel’s throat was thick as he stared into the creature’s luminous black eyes. “I don’t know what will happen in there, and I can’t promise you’ll be safe.”
Crumpet curled his paws into wee fists and raised his arms as if preparing for a fight. Vaskel pressed his lips together, not sure if he would laugh or weep.
“Your bravery is unmatched, my friend, but I need you to go back to the tavern. I need you to tell Lira there’s trouble.” He wasn’t sure how much Lira truly understood the animal’s chatter, but it was worth a try. “Tell her it’s Malek.”
Crumpet wrinkled his nose in distaste. He must have remembered their last encounter with the mage. Then he lowered his furry fists and sighed, nodding reluctantly.
Relief surged through Vaskel. At least he wouldn’t be responsible for something befalling Lira’s beloved baking assistant.
The flutterstoat unfurled his wings and flapped them, hovering in front of Vaskel before flying toward him and throwing his small arms around the hellkin’s neck. He gave him a brief squeeze, chattered something that Vaskel understood as a version of ‘good luck’, and flew away.
Vaskel watched the white silhouette grow more distant and finally get swallowed up by the dark. Then he pivoted back toward the castle and took long strides toward it.
As glad as he was that Crumpet was on his way back to Lira, he felt the absence of the creature as he walked under the portcullis and into the courtyard.
Several torches burned around the stone walls, dappling light on the strewn dirt and straw, but there weren’t even the handful of guards that they’d encountered last time.
Vaskel stiffened, swinging his head from side to side.
Since when was a castle—even a quiet one with an ailing laird—unguarded?
He eyed the stairwell leading inside the castle, but Crumpet had already told him that Marina and Thrain weren’t up there.
It was possible they were in one of the other wings of the castle, but his gut told him he needed to find Malek.
As much as he hated the idea of seeing the mage who’d murdered Pirrin again, he also knew that Malek had information on Marina.
Even if he didn’t know where she and Cali were, he needed to know how much contact he’d had with the hellkin.
He needed to know how much Malek had told Marina about him and their crewing days.
He was under no illusion that Malek might very well be leading him into a trap, but he was desperate for information, and Malek knew something.
He curled his hands into fists and readied himself to see the dark mage he’d hoped he’d never have to encounter again. But before he could head to the dungeons, a figure burst from another entrance to the castle.
“I hoped I’d see you again,” the hellkin growled as he raced toward Vaskel, his tail slashing behind him.
Vaskel’s own tail lashed through the air as he feigned moving to one side, then switched at the last moment, dodging the hellkin and pivoting behind him. He brought a sharp elbow down hard on his attacker’s neck, grunting with satisfaction when the hellkin stumbled to his knees.
It wasn’t the guy’s fault. Vaskel had decades of experience on him and more battles than the young hellkin could imagine, even if he wasn’t as young and bloodthirsty anymore.
Since the hellkin wasn’t using a weapon, Vaskel didn’t draw his blade, preferring to dispatch his opponent in hand-to-hand combat.
Before the hellkin could rise, Vaskel leapt up onto its back, using his knees to pin the arms while he hooked one arm around the hellkin’s neck.
Vaskel held on despite the thrashing and struggling, tightening his grip until the body beneath him slowed and then went limp.
When it collapsed to the hard dirt, Vaskel jumped free and landed in a crouch.
Breathing hard, Vaskel glanced around and then took the hellkin by the ankles and dragged him behind a dilapidated cart, kicking some loose straw over him and quelling the urge to flick festering manure on the unconscious figure.
Now he had some idea why there were no guards around. If Marina’s hellkin crew was wandering the place, he suspected the guards had been dispatched.
With his senses on high alert, he continued through the courtyard. When he caught another flash of movement from another arched doorway, he let loose a string of hellkin curses. He instinctively stepped back and crouched into a fighting stance to take on the next hellkin—until Thrain rushed out.
He blew out a relieved breath. “Thrain! Where—?”
“No time for small-talk, laddie.” Thrain ran to him, his long beard swinging from side to side. “Where’s the cookie?”
Vaskel pulled it from hi pocket. “Here, but why—?”
Thrain roughly snatched the cookie and shoved it in Vaskel’s mouth mid-sentence. “Sorry, Vask. Open wide.”
Thrain’s meaty hands covered his lips and muffled Vaskel’s mumbled shock. “Mmmpfiggwilskerpiff?”
“You’ll thank me later.” Thrain gasped, beads of sweat clinging to his forehead. “If I was in time, that is.”
Vaskel chewed and swallowed and pulled Thrain’s hands from his mouth. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
The dwarf jerked a thumb behind him. “Found Marina, but she wasn’t in her room.” He put a hand to his side as he winced and gulped another breath. “She was in the great hall. There was no way to signal you. No windows.”
He held up a finger as he bent over and continued gasping for air. “Hold on. I ran a lot of stairs.” He finally straightened. “I convinced her I was desperate to win her back. I might have even cried a few tears.”
Vaskel eyed him, wondering if Thrain had been acting or not.
“The long and short of it is I got her to eat the cookie.” The dwarf puffed out his barrel of a chest. “But then I remembered you needed to eat yours and I had no way to signal you so I told her I had the trots and ran to find you.” He grinned, his teeth a flash of white nestled in his dark whiskers. “Which I did.”
Vaskel took a few seconds to take in Thrain’s story. “Do you think she took long enough to eat the cookie, so that we were eating at the same time?”
Thrain shrugged. “Dunno, but I know I ran faster than I ever have before. Couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes, and Marina likes to take her time with food.”
Vaskel didn’t feel any different, but Erindil had never mentioned what would happen when and if they broke the soul bind. He hadn’t expected a flash of lightning, but he would have thought there would be some reaction. His heart sank. Unless he’d been too late.
He shoved up his sleeve, his breath trapped in his throat. The marks were still there. He squinted in the moonlight. But were they lighter? Were they fading, or was it wishful, desperate thinking?
Pushing aside the doubts that threatened to overtake him, he pulled his sleeve over his arm and clapped a hand on Thrain’s shoulder. “Thank you, my friend. I couldn’t have asked for more.”
The dwarf grunted, gripping Thrain’s arm. “I wouldn’t have told a beautiful woman I had the trots for anyone else.”
Vaskel grinned at this before he thought of another question. “Did you see Cali? Was she with Marina?”
Thrain frowned. “She wasn’t. I don’t know where she is.” Another lift of the shoulder. “Maybe Marina has her locked up?”
Would Marina have put Cali in the dungeons with Malek? Was that how Malek knew about the hellkin?
A chill convulsed his body as he thought about Cali at the mercy of Malek. He needed to go down into those dungeons.
“Your job is done here, friend,” he said, locking his gaze on the dwarf. “You should get back to the tavern.”
“And leave you here?” Thrain shook his head. “We might not have been crew mates like you and Cali, Rog, and Lira were, but that doesn’t mean we’re any less family.”
Vaskel’s heart swelled. “Any crew would have been lucky to have you, and you’re right, we are family now.”
Thrain’s grin split his face. “It’s settled then. Now, what do you want to do next? Confront Marina? Alert the guards?”
The hellkin tipped his head toward the stone archway that led down. “We’re going to the dungeons.”
“Argh, spawn of a moldy goblin’s knob,” the dwarf muttered darkly.