Dreadmarrow Thief (The Conjurer Fellstone Book 1) Page 14

  “It's wearing off.” He took my hand. “I know now why I liked you instantly. You're very much like your mother. Trust her judgment. I'm certain she ran away from Fellstone to protect you. She would not have made that decision lightly.”

  I agreed with him. No more delays; little time remained to save Papa. I rose and snatched my key pouch from the table. “Can you make us both disappear?”

  Calder shoved the two halves of the orange into his mouth in rapid succession. He shook his head. “Too little remains. No matter how much I pack, invariably I run short on something.” He reached into his bag, pulled out my windrider, and smiled up at me. “However, I did manage to find this.”

  I snatched it from his hand and had it round my neck faster than Calder could blink. My face felt flushed as powerful feelings of relief and happiness flooded through me. I could not remember when I’d ever wanted anything so badly. “Thank you,” I said, my voice intense.

  Calder was now sufficiently visible for me to see his face cloud with doubt. I realized I should’ve been more guarded; he thought me too needy. How can he understand what the windrider means to me? His judgment was unfair. Despite how much I loved it, I knew I could live without it if I must. Of course I can.

  Still, it was with great happiness that I changed back into sparrow-me, after Calder explained the plan. When we left my bedchamber, he was no longer transparent. I flew above him as he slipped across the corridor to an outer door that led to the courtyard. Outside, he waited out of sight while I fluttered toward the tower, entering over the heads of the two sentries. One of the guards glanced up, saw that I was just a harmless bird, and looked away. Thanks to Calder, I knew precisely where to find Ash. I swooped down the stone steps, landed on the peephole of his cell, and looked in. He was seated with his eyes closed, leaning against the wall not far from the door. I dropped down to the floor and changed back into myself, noticing with relief that Papa’s sword was stashed with Ash’s coat and boots in a corner; he would be glad to get his things back. I found the key on the hook, just as Calder had described, and tried to insert it into the lock. The key met with resistance and first I thought it might not be the right one, but with a bit of pushing and jiggling, I managed to force it all the way in. With the turn of my wrist, the cell door swung open.

  ASH

  Ash did not take confinement well, having spent much of his life outdoors. He liked it that way. His work in the cemetery was hard, but when the sun was out, and the flowers blooming… it was tolerable. In truth, almost any other job would be preferable. It just showed how much he hated being restrained inside this cold, sunless pit, that even grave digging was starting to look good to him.

  He wasn’t sure—because it was always dark inside his cell—but he thought no more than a day had passed since he was imprisoned. Yet already he grew impatient. He feared his friends were dead, or shackled in the cells next to him. Or, even if they were somehow safe outside the castle walls, there was little they could do to help. Neither of them had a weapon larger than a dagger, nor knew how to use one. He was on his own. He had one tool—the nail—and he would only get to use it once.

  The guard who delivered his meal had worn a key ring. If Ash attacked him with the nail, he needed to take action that would silence the man instantly. An eye-gouging would only make the guard shriek and draw others to his side. Ash felt the nail in his hand, wondering how firmly he could hold it while he plunged it into his victim. He tried gripping it and pressing it against the floor, but it slipped through his fingers.

  When he picked up the nail to try again, the metal restraints round his wrists caught his eye. There was a small gap where the cuffs clamped together. He looked back at the nail, getting an idea. He picked it up and forced it into the gap. Its width was perfect to hold the flat end tightly, so that the pointed end jutted out. When it was ready, he pressed the nail against the stone floor, and it remained firmly in position.

  All he needed to do was ram his wrist into the guard’s neck.

  He worked a while longer, making certain the nail was just right. After that, he dozed for a bit, until the sound of the lock rattling woke him. He quickly checked the nail again, then moved as close to the door as he could manage. For some reason, the guard was taking longer than usual with the lock. Perhaps it was another guard, with less experience, who would be easier to overwhelm. But he could not rely on that. He sat poised and ready.

  The door came open and Ash lunged, grasping a leg, dragging the figure toward him, and leaping on top, all in one swift movement. He raised his wrist to finish the man off, but at the last second, the gasp of a woman stayed his hand. He stared down into the face of his victim, and made out Tessa’s features in the dark.

  “Ash!” she said. “It’s me!”

  He couldn’t believe how close he’d come to killing her. How he would have lived with himself after that colossal blunder, he didn’t know. But she was all right, and now a new feeling coursed through him, an intense awareness of the shape of her body… the sweetness of her breath… the soft touch of her hands on his arms. It seemed that her lips parted as she gazed up at him, and he wanted to kiss her, wanted it even more than revenge against Ratcher. Tessa looked as if she wanted it too, or maybe that was wishful thinking on his part.

  He came to his senses before he made an idiot of himself. He had tackled her, and now he had her pressed against the filthy floor of a dungeon. When he kissed her—if he kissed her—it should be in a place that made her feel at ease, a place they both would want to remember. He moved off her.

  “Did I hurt you?” he said, taking her hand to help her up. He released her before he could be tempted to draw her close again.

  She shook her head and moved to close the door. When she turned back, he stared at her in awe, realizing she was wearing a gown that made her look like a fairy tale princess. “Where did you get that?” he said. He knew as soon as the words left his lips, that it should not have been the first thing he asked, when so many more important questions remained to be answered.

  Tessa laughed softly. “You didn’t waste any time planning your escape. I think it would’ve worked, too. Thank the gods you realized it was me.”

  “Sorry. I had to act fast for the plan to work.”

  “Of course. And it’s very dark in here.” She sat down, spilled out keys and picks from the small bag that she wore, and lowered her head over his wrist manacles. “Not easy to see what I’m doing. Stay still.”

  “Where's Calder? Is he all right?”

  “Outside. He’s fine. I had to become a bird to get past the guards.”

  Ash looked at her curiously. “How is it you still have your clothes?” Then realizing how his question must’ve sounded, he stammered, “Not that I was hoping they'd be gone or anything.”

  “That's how the magic works,” she said. “Whatever I'm wearing, or carrying, stays with me.” She worked with a small, thin sheet of steel that she inserted into the shackle of the lock. She twisted it until the latch released.

  “What’s that?” he said.

  “It’s called a shim. Works well with spring locks.”

  He felt vindicated for failing to make any progress with the nail and told her about his efforts.

  She handed him a key from her pile. “Take this. It opened my bedchamber door. Most likely the locks on the inner doors are all the same. It should get you into her room.” She smiled at the nail. “You won’t be able to open it with that.”

  “Don’t you need it?” he said.

  “I have a similar one. I think it will work well enough.”

  He slid the key along with the nail back into his waistband. He watched while Tessa opened his locks one by one, and listened as she told him what she’d learned since they separated outside the castle. It was difficult for her to speak of it, but gradually she revealed that Lord Fellstone was her father. The news came as a shock to Ash. How could someone so lovely and innocent be the daughter of a conjurer? He had thought evil
was an inborn trait: the sins of the father visited on the sins of the child. But clearly he was wrong. She had the character of the man who brought her up.

  His wrists and one ankle were now free. As Tessa worked on the last manacle, he brought up the subject which had been weighing heaviest on him. “I saw my brother outside the castle walls.”

  “You mean Lance? How could he…?”

  “He's a wraith.” He spat the words out in disgust.

  Tessa gasped.

  “I can't leave him like that. Have to find a way to save him.” It was no longer a simple matter of killing Ratcher. Not that it would ever have been simple.

  Tessa touched his wrist, bruised and raw from the metal that chaffed against it. She leaned her forehead against his. “We will save him,” she said. “Somehow we will.”

  CALDER

  Too much time had passed since Tessa had flown into the dungeon. Calder prayed her locksmithing skills would prove sufficient to the task at hand.

  In the meantime, it fell on him to prepare a distraction. Behind the cluster of trees next to the fountain, he searched for sticks and leaves and any discarded bits of parchment. There was precious little flammable material to be found, a testament to those who maintained the castle grounds. What he did find, he arranged into a pile beside the fountain, out of view of the tower guards. He lit the fire with his flint before dashing away and hiding behind the steps that led down from the kitchen.

  Calder waited, watching for the sign and thinking how easy everything had been earlier, when he was invisible. A moment later he glanced back at the pitiful fire, which was already running out of fuel. Putting himself at further risk of being spotted, he darted to the single tree directly across from the Great Hall, gathered the broken twigs that lay beneath it, and tore back to his fire. The flame had nearly extinguished but he managed to revive it with some heavy blowing. It flared up as he added the twigs one at a time.

  Calder had only just returned to his hiding place when Tessa flew out from the tower and perched on the roof. This was the signal.

  He took a piece of bamboo filled with powder from his bag and tossed it at his fire. Unfortunately, the bamboo missed the flame entirely and rolled away. Blast. He crept out of hiding to retrieve it, when suddenly a sinewy man approached from the other side of the fountain, and Calder barely had time to scoot back into safety. Watching anxiously, Calder judged the man to be a knight based on his mode of dress, and his disregard of good sense in growing a long mustache that hung in two thick strands below his neck. The knight gave every impression of being potted, strolling unevenly toward the fire. He paused beside it, swaying and rubbing his hands over the flames. Don’t look at the bamboo, Calder shouted inside his head, but it was as if the opposite thought hit the knight, whose gaze immediately shifted. He stared down curiously at the unfamiliar piece of wood, and then scooped it up for closer inspection, nearly knocking himself off balance in the process.

  The plan is going to fail. Calder had no more gunpowder. He racked his brain to think of another trick that might cause a sufficient distraction. Meanwhile, Tessa waited on the roof, watching.

  The knight grew bored, and perhaps wanting to see how the strange wood would burn, tossed it onto the flame.

  The bamboo exploded. The knight spiraled backwards, while Calder dashed into the castle. He vaulted up the steps to the second floor and watched out a window as the tower guards left their posts, and ran to the knight’s aid. The gunpowder continued to blast while Ash emerged from the tower, bolted out across the courtyard in the opposite direction from the disturbance, and entered the castle. Tessa was to have given him a map, and instructions on where he should go. With luck, he’d find his way without being seen.

  Several servants emerged from their rooms and gathered at the window beside Calder. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Something in the fire popped.” He slipped away while they continued to stare outside.

  Calder had spent much of the afternoon checking the servants’ quarters until he had found one he could safely assume was not in use, since the drawers were empty and the mattress had no linens. Now, he made sure no one was watching as he let himself into the room. Ash was already there, seated on the bare mattress, looking over his copy of the map.

  “How are you?” Calder said.

  Ash felt the back of his head. “Better,” he said. “Thanks.”

  Calder nodded and sat beside him. “You’re safest up here. There are so many servants, they don’t seem surprised when they don’t recognize someone. Or perhaps they’ve simply learned over time that it’s better not to ask questions.”

  Ash stared at the map for a moment longer.

  Calder said, “She told you where to meet us?”

  He nodded. “But… don’t wait for me.”

  “Tessa won’t leave without you.”

  “She must. She has to save her father.”

  “I’ll do what I can to convince her,” said Calder, not looking forward to the task.

  “Convince her for Lady Fellstone’s sake.”

  The boy was cleverer than Calder had imagined. To appeal to his affection for Faline… that was the way to get him to do anything. And he had no doubt Faline would put the survival of her daughter… and the locksmith… above her own. When he’d first set out, the search for Faline had come before every other consideration. But now, insuring Tessa’s safe return to her papa was the priority.

  He nodded to Ash. “If you don’t make it in time… I’ll be back for you,” he said, and he meant it.

  Ash began to rise, but Calder put a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Wait a bit. Until things have settled down.”

  ASH

  Once all was quiet within the castle, Ash made his way to Ratcher’s bedchamber, fittingly located on a landing in between the two floors, neither upstairs nor downstairs. The door was locked, but he had no problem opening it with the key Tessa had given him. He was glad Ratcher wasn’t there; it would give him the advantage of surprise. Her chamber was large enough but surprisingly plain compared to the opulence of the rest of the castle. Except for its size, he would have thought it belonged to one of the servants. The simple bed was tucked into a corner, leaving space in the center of the room for performing incantations, he supposed. A small stone fireplace warmed the place well enough, with a smoldering flame that must have been lit in preparation for her return.

  He’d planned to hide in her wardrobe, but she didn’t have one. Several dark green jackets and trousers—she did not seem to own another color—hung from hooks along the wall, and a meager dresser inclined beside the bed, but aside from these there were few possessions on display. He stood behind the door—his only option—hoping she didn’t swing it wide upon her return. While he waited, he filled his mind with happy memories of Lance. These thoughts fed his determination and helped keep him alert and ready for the moment to come.

  It wasn’t long before he heard Ratcher’s key inside the lock. She opened her door and stepped into the room. He didn’t hesitate, kicking the door closed behind her with one foot, and raising his sword to her neck just as she whirled around toward him. He pressed the tip firmly against her jugular. “Don’t move,” he said.

  Ratcher went still. “This is impressive. I almost regret mocking you earlier.”

  He would not allow her banter to distract him. “My twin, Lance, was made into a wraith,” he said. “Tell me how to free him.”

  “I should've thought you would enjoy the family reunion.”

  Ash pressed the sword closer, nearly cutting Ratcher's flesh. “Tell me or I'll kill you now.”

  “It's rather obvious, isn't it? Kill Lord Fellstone and all the magic he wrought will die with him. He called forth the wraiths, and only his death can release them.”

  “How do I kill him?”

  “Stronger, braver, and wiser men than you have tried and failed,” she said. “Even if you can get past his sentries, he has set spells to protect himself and everything he values
.”

  “There must be a way,” he said.

  “He trusts no one. Even I don't know his methods. Kill me if you must, but my death won't further your goal.”

  Ash lowered his sword. “Defend yourself.”

  “Oh this is tedious,” Ratcher said.

  “Would you rather I just killed you?” He would do it if he must, though it would not give him as much satisfaction.

  Ratcher sighed and stepped backwards, drawing out her sword. “I warn you, I'm good at this.”

  They took their positions and Ash raised his weapon. “From ash you came, to Ash you return,” he said, his voice thick and low.

  “Oh my, a catch phrase,” said Ratcher. “I wish I had one. How about, ‘Die, you despicable slug!’”

  They began to duel, feeling each other out, testing, looking for weaknesses. Ratcher quickly showed herself to be skilled with the sword, perhaps even better than Ash. “I always wondered what it would be like to have a twin,” she said.

  He tried not to listen to her.

  “Like two halves of one person,” Ratcher said.

  Her talk made him impatient. He didn’t want to hear her, didn’t want to look at her either. The cowl and mask covered most of her face, except for her cruel mouth and the dark slashes of her eyes. What’s she hiding? He pushed harder, forcing Ratcher into a defensive posture but at the same time, opening himself up to mistakes.

  “Twins compensate for each other’s deficiencies, do they not?” Ratcher said. She inched backwards toward the door as the battle continued. When her back was nearly against it, she cawed like a crow three times.

  Ash nearly had her pinned, until she slammed his sword and slipped past him to the other side. His back was now to the door.

  “Strong as a pair, but weak as a singleton,” said Ratcher. “Without your twin, you're only half a man.” She slipped her sword under the tie that bound Ash's ponytail and sliced it off.