The Grimjinx Rebellion (17 page)

28

Kolo's Last Secret

“Danger is opportunity spelled with mostly wrong letters.”

—Ancient par-Goblin proverb

O
f everything that amazed me the following day, the most insane was that a ragtag group of rebels listened closely as
I
outlined a plan to recruit an army. Maybe it was my powers of persuasion. Maybe what I said just made sense. Or maybe we were so desperate that we were willing to try anything.

It was probably the desperation.

Supplies were gathered. Maps were collected. The entire village pitched in. We got a good night's sleep and then, just before dawn, everyone rallied in the square. The morning mist down the street parted as a parade of backpack-wearing assassin-monks strode into town, Edilman and Bennock at the head.

Everyone divided into the groups I'd assigned. I walked around to make sure they were ready. Maloch stood near the scaffold, doing a last-minute check through his backpack. A pair of monks did likewise at his side.

“I should be going with you,” he said when I approached.

“I know you want to,” I said. “Splitting up is the fastest way to get things done.”

I moved to Callie and her monk bodyguards. She gripped the straps on her backpack so tightly that her knuckles had gone white. She smiled but I could see the terror in her eyes.

“You okay?” I asked.

She gave a single nod. “I'll be fine. I just—”

“I know,” I said. “Don't worry. You'll be great.”

“But what if she's forgotten—”

“She hasn't.”

Callie clicked her tongue as Edilman moved to each team, issuing instructions. “I can't believe you let him into our lives again, after last time.”

“He's had several chances to get revenge,” I told her. “I think he and the monks really want to help. And we need them now, in case we run into trouble.”

She wasn't convinced. “I'm glad he's not coming with me. Edilman Jaxter is the last person I want by my side in a crisis.”

Across the way, I heard Uncle Garax yelp in fear. One of the hardest things had been convincing everyone in the village to release Garax. But he was an important part of the plan.

I went over to find Luda intimidating Uncle Garax near the entrance to the Ghostfire house. As I approached, Luda pulled me aside.

“I should be going with
you
,” she said.

Everybody
wanted to go with me. I liked being popular.

I shook my head. “Luda, I need you to go with Uncle Garax. You're the only one I trust to make sure he does what he's supposed to do and doesn't just take off. Can you do that?”

She arched an eyebrow. “You doubt my abilities?”

No. The only thing I believed in more than Luda's abilities was my uncle's low tolerance for pain. Something Luda could exploit if he got out of line.

“Who knows when I'll see you again?” I asked. “How about a hug?”

“How about broken bones?”

Life as a rebel had made Luda
sassy.

Finally, I got to Da. He pulled me in tight and, for a minute, I didn't think he was going to let go.

“At the first sign of danger—” Da started.

“I will honor the Grimjinx name and run like a demented gekbeak in the other direction,” I promised. “Are you okay working with Edilman?”

Da glanced across the square where the abbot stood with most of the population of Slagbog. Everyone was armed with
some
kind of weapon, from pole arms and halberds to garden hoes and egg whisks.

“I still don't know that I trust him,” he said, “but I have to admit that it feels a bit like the old days. If he can do what he promises . . .”

I gave Da an extra hug. “Come back safe.”

“We're wasting time!” Edilman shouted. Bennock and a female monk named Keela moved to my side. I exhaled loudly as Bennock gave my shoulder a squeeze. Everyone nodded to one another. And one by one, our teams departed, each in a different direction.

“
Harash porr glagg!
” Oberax called out. An ancient par-Goblin blessing: May your good fortune flow swifter than your enemy's. No doubt about it: we needed every bit of luck we could get.

The second morning of our trip started as the first morning had: with pain. Luckily, it wasn't
my
pain.

I hunched over our campfire, cooking a breakfast of gekbeak eggs, while Sister Keela trained Bennock in hand-to-hand combat. He had the punching down. But any time he tried to leap in the air and kick, he ended up in a gnarled heap of limbs on the ground.

When Keela took our flagons to be filled in a stream, I handed Bennock his eggs.

“Eat up,” I said. “You're a growing assassin.”

Bennock grumbled. “I don't think I'll ever learn.”

I shrugged. “You're just a little clumsy. Like me.”

“You?” Bennock laughed. “I've hardly even seen you stumble.”

“Well . . . I've gotten better. I'm not as clumsy as I used to be. Trust me, you'll get better too.”

Bennock sighed. “I think you're confusing my ‘I can do this' look with my ‘I just want this to be over' look.”

Leaning in, I lowered my voice. “You mean . . . you don't want to be an assassin-monk?”

The question caught him off guard. The eggs slipped from Bennock's hands and into the fire. He groaned. I split my own portion of eggs in two and gave him the second half. He smiled with embarrassment.

“Most acolytes come to the Abbey because they want to join the order. I was an orphan and—”

“You were never given a choice,” I finished for him.

“They've done so much for me,” he said, pushing the eggs around his plate. “It wouldn't be right not to join the order.”

“Let's pretend,” I said slowly, “that you could do anything. What would you choose?”

“I'd work with Sister Andris,” he said without hesitation. “I love the idea of language. I almost wish I was back in the Abbey, helping her translate that message from Aubrin's journal. If I could do anything, I'd study language.”

It seemed like every time Bennock and I talked, I realized how much we had in common. I wanted to tell him about how everyone assumed I'd be a master thief like my father but instead I became the Dowager's scholarly apprentice. I wanted to tell him there was hope. But Keela returned and Bennock suddenly grew quiet.

We finished our breakfast in silence before breaking camp and heading out. An absolutely insane idea popped into my head. What if—when all this was over—I could go back to studying at Redvalor Castle with the Dowager? And what if she would take Bennock on as an apprentice as well? The three of us doing research? We'd be unstoppable.

But a lot had to happen before then. And, at present, not a lot of it seemed very likely.

“I count eight mages,” Keela reported, peering through a spyglass.

We crouched behind bushes on a hillside overlooking the Palatinate Palace. Something didn't seem quite right to me. The last time I'd been here, the golden walls had shone and pulsed with magical light. But now they seemed darker, burnished. The whole area was unsettlingly quiet.

Outside the main gate, a small caravan had assembled. Two mages stood at the head, spellspheres throbbing with light in their hands. Just behind them, three vortakaars—lumbering beasts with thorny exoskeletons—dragged their considerable knuckles on the ground, growling softly to themselves. Behind the vortakaars stood four mages. Next in line, a strange assortment of creatures marched in place, just ahead of two massive mangs pulling a large covered wagon. The caravan ended with a pair of mages.

The main gate to the palace swung open. A mage with dark, spiky hair stepped out and didn't bother to close the doors behind him. He wore the robes of a member of the Lordcourt.

“Spellspheres at the ready!” he shouted. “Let's move out!”

The mage climbed into the back of the wagon. A moment later, the caravan trudged forward. They pulled away from the palace, and we watched until they'd disappeared into the forest.

Bennock regarded the palace with shock. “That's it?” he asked. “They're just leaving it wide-open?”

“It's got to be some kind of trap,” I muttered.

Our plan had been to sneak in through the same underground tunnels Maloch and I had used to infiltrate the palace many months ago. As the Palatinate's headquarters, the palace would be crawling with mages. All we had to do was avoid them and get to the gallery filled with glass statues.

Sister Keela shook her head. “We heard rumors that the Palatinate was going to move to Vesta and inhabit the High Laird's old palace.”

“But why leave in a caravan?” I asked. “Why not just use a quickjump spell to get to Vesta?”

Nothing about this felt right. But we didn't have time to overthink it.

We approached cautiously, stepped through the door, and entered the cavernous main gallery. As Keela lit a torch, the firelight flickered off a collection of glass statues atop mordenstone plinths. The Shadowhands. But the number of statues had grown since my last visit. It appeared that the Palatinate had continued freezing their enemies with shimmerhex curses even after they seized control of the Provinces.

All the better for us.

“Keep an eye on the door, Keela,” I told the monk, “just in case they come back.”

I took the vallix skin gloves Aubrin had given me for my birthday from a hook on my belt and slipped them on. They'd protect me from accidentally catching the shimmerhex curse while I worked.

“So where do we start?” Bennock asked.

I spotted a familiar face in the crowd. A man, about Da's age, held his fist tightly to his chest.

“We start here.”

Bennock helped me take the man down off the plinth. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the Vanguard.

“What's that?” Bennock asked.

“Erm, something Callie said might help,” I lied. Da and I had decided to keep the Vanguard a secret a mite longer. It was our best weapon in the upcoming battle. We couldn't risk tipping our hand with anyone. Even our allies.

I touched the crystal pyramid to the statue. Deep within the glass, flesh-like color spread. The glass shimmered and fell like melting water to the floor. The man gasped, drawing in a huge breath, and fell forward. Bennock lowered him to the ground. Looking up, the man spotted me.

“Jaxter Grimjinx?” Maloch's da asked.

“Oya, Mr. Oxter,” I said.

Bennock and I moved from plinth to plinth. While I liberated people from the shimmerhex, Bennock explained our plan to raise an army. As I'd guessed, recruiting was easy. Everyone here had reason to hate the Palatinate. We had a small battalion in no time.

“Are we done?” Bennock asked.

“Not quite,” I said, nodding to the last statue. The one I'd been avoiding. Kolo. A couple of Shadowhands laid the statue on the ground.

I paused, Vanguard in hand. Kolo himself had said that his frail body wouldn't survive being awoken from the shimmerhex.