Lords of Trillium (12 page)

“Fight back, everyone!” shouted Carn, elbowing a major in the head as Oleander clawed at his back. “This is
our
home!”

The citizens needed no further encouragement. Packs of Hecate's soldiers came at them from all sides. Citizens kicked and clawed, dodging blades as best they could. Frightened parents fought back, protecting their little ones, their bodies and paws cut and beaten from blocking the many blows.

Mother Gallo searched for her children. The older boys were helping the Council fight off the armed rats, while Hob and Suttor's brother Kar were under their chairs, Tuk and Gage shielding them from harm. “Where are they?” she whispered, searching through the chaos. A lump formed in her throat
at the sudden realization that they were nowhere to be seen. “Juniper, they're gone! The children—where are they?”

Juniper whipped around in a circle, his adrenaline and fear impelling him to shove Hecate's rats out of his way, his arms and body slashed and bleeding from their blades. He called his children's names, but neither answered. Suddenly there was a stabbing scream. Juniper's hackles rose, his whole body flooding with terror. He turned in time to see Foiber holding both Nomi and Julius in one arm, his claws digging into Julius's neck.

“Papa!” yelled Julius, his white coat smeared with blood from Foiber's bleeding leg. Nomi cried and squirmed as Foiber squeezed her small belly.

Her knife soaked in blood, Hecate bounded on top of a chair and gazed down smugly as Foiber shook the children. “Always using that bald head of yours, Major Foiber. Go for the runts—good thinking!”

“No!” blurted Juniper, holding up his paws in surrender. “Hecate,
please
 . . . leave the children unharmed.” Foiber snorted with pleasure, watching Juniper plead for his children's lives. “I beg of you, let them go. They are not part of this fight.”

“That's what Killdeer thought of your Nightshade boys, and look where that got him. He's dead and buried, while those two mongrels have a city named after them,” said Hecate.

Foiber snorted with delight as Julius kicked and screamed, trying to break free. “High Minister Hecate is right—better safe than sorry.” He lifted his claws to Julius's throat. “One swipe on his tender little neck and the boy's done for—one less Loyalist for us to worry about!”

Foiber was poised to strike, when a paralyzing growl suddenly filled his ear. Icy cold breath, followed by long yellowed
claws, slithered around his neck. Hecate's eyes widened with shock, her knife quivering in her paw. “Don't move an inch!” ordered the rat in a raspy voice. Foiber's whole body drained of color, his hairless skin now a deathly gray.

What looked to be arrows flew across the city square, planting themselves in the throats and hearts of unsuspecting rats, who fell to the ground squirming and sputtering and then simply stopped moving.

Gaping, Juniper looked on, unable to speak.

“Now then, Major Foiber,” declared the rat evenly, “put my son down . . . my little niece, too.”

The square seemed to take a collective breath. Citizens cried out in horror. Every soul stood still, staring breathlessly at the imposing rat in the center of the room.

With a crafty smirk, Billycan stared at Juniper. “If I remember correctly, you surprised me this way once upon a time.”

“It's . . . it's all right!” Juniper called out to the citizens, his voice returning. “I promise you on my life. He means no harm.”

“As I'm sure you remember,” said Billycan, still clutching Foiber by the neck, “I
loathe
repeating myself, so Major, if I were you I'd do as I was told.” With great care, Foiber set both children on the ground. Billycan gave him a belittling pat on his hairless head. “There's a good fellow.”

Julius and Nomi bolted to their mother, hiding behind her legs.

As the citizens stifled their gasps, more rats moved into the square—foreign rats—surrounding them on all sides. A mass of rangy, ragtag rats, with silver rings piercing their ears, enclosed the square. Each one held a sizable crossbow, but strangely enough the arrows were not aimed at the citizens; they were trained on Hecate and her majors. The fallen rats
with the arrows protruding from their lifeless forms were not Nightshade rats. They were the enemy.

“Guards, detain them,” ordered Billycan. The armed rats swarmed around the majors, taking their weapons and forcing them to their knees, abruptly boxing ears and cuffing those who did not comply. They ripped Hecate off her chair, throwing her to the ground, her imperious smile gone.

“Brother,” said Juniper, “how did you—”

“Did you honestly think I would miss a good fight?” asked Billycan.

“Not since I've known you,” Juniper replied, exhaling.

Two armed rats stood on either side of Billycan. He gave them a nod. “Take him.” He released his grasp on Foiber's fleshy neck. “Oh, I see he's injured,” he said, frowning at the major's bleeding leg. “Do not tend to that wound. Let it get as infected as his rotting hide.” The rats grabbed the suddenly speechless Foiber roughly, pushing him down the aisle.

After Hecate's rats had been restrained, Billycan gestured for her. She screeched and kicked and spat as she was forced in front of him. Indifferent to her protests, he folded his arms and regarded her. “You would have made Killdeer quite proud today.” He tilted his head, a hint of satisfaction spreading across his mouth. “Well,
almost
proud. You failed, after all.”

“I should have finished you off last year!” said Hecate. “You and your bloody nine lives—like a flea-bitten alley cat!”

“Hecate, since I've known you, your biggest fault has always been your arrogance. Last year, during our little
tussle
in my cell, you should have made quite sure I was dead. Had you done so, you'd be looking at Killdeer's throne right now. When I took my leave of Trillium, I was sure Juniper would be on to you soon. It wasn't until I found out about your little prank—your
delightful
tea—that I truly became concerned. Thankfully, my
Toscan friends have no love for their former empress and were more than happy to tell me all about your little experiments on their isolated island.”

Hecate's spite shifted to disbelief. “You—you were in
Tosca
?”

Tilting his head, he clasped his paws together theatrically. “Ajax and Silvius send their warmest regards. Oh, how they miss you.”

“Ajax is useless and Silvius is a mad old fool! I should know—I made him that way!”

“To be sure, you've done damage to Silvius, but he's by no means mad. If you'd taken care of him and Ajax properly, I'd still be in Tosca, none the wiser. Again, Hecate, your arrogance, your fatal flaw, has tripped you up.”

A wounded voice cut the air. “No!” it shouted from a nearby corridor. “Duncan, no!”

Cole, Vincent, and Juniper bolted through the crowd, stumbling over fallen rats, pushing their way to the entrance of the corridor.

Suttor was on his knees at the entrance to the corridor, his head resting on Duncan's still chest. He was crying, pounding the ground with his fists. Overcome, Cole dropped down next to him.

“Bless the Saints!” said Juniper. “What happened here?”

“I don't know!” exclaimed Suttor. “Everything was fine. Duncan was with me, having tea, in the prison corridor. All of a sudden I didn't feel so good—dizzy, sick to my stomach—and then everything went black. When I came to, all the cells were empty and I found him lying here.” He looked at Cole. “Father, help me! We must do something. He won't wake up!”

“Suttor must have been slipped something,” said Cole, putting his arm around him, “in Hecate's tea.” He clutched Duncan's motionless paw. “That's how they all escaped.”

“Did Duncan have tea, too?” asked Vincent.

Suttor searched his mind, working through the foggy jumble of what occurred. “I can't remember. It's all a blur.”

“Let's get him to Virden,” said Juniper. He ripped off his cloak and laid it on the ground. “Gently now, we must lift him.”

The four rats placed Duncan on Juniper's cloak, now a makeshift stretcher. “Virden!” called Juniper. “We need you. It's Duncan!” They moved through the crowd and when they reached the center aisle, they laid Duncan at the base of the altar.

Suttor knelt at his brother's side and spoke to him as Virden listened to his chest and checked for any signs of life. “Please, Duncan, you must wake up,” he whispered. “You've so much to do. You're going to take us through the museum, remember?” He wiped away tears. “You're going to be somebody . . . somebody important, like I always knew you would.”

Glancing up at Juniper, Virden shook his head. He could feel no pulse. Clover took Kar in her arms. He buried his face in her shoulder while Cole held Lali back from Duncan's body, her grief-stricken cries muffled against his chest.

A rat began to laugh.

Suttor jumped to his feet, his pain turning to rage. “What are you laughing at, rat?”

Major Ragwort's yellow eyes glinted. He leered from the top of the altar down at Duncan. “With the lack of brains on that heap of orange fluff, I did the world a service—gave him a right thrashing, I did!” He laughed. “You're lucky you're not lying there next to him, boy!”

Suttor flew forward, leaping over his brother and onto Ragwort, knocking him and the rats detaining him to the ground. He grabbed Ragwort's throat. Juniper, Carn, and Victor jumped on top of him, desperately trying to peel him off, but he would not relent. With a swift kick in the chin from Suttor, Carn tumbled back, knocking into one of the rats holding Hecate. She
took her chance. With one arm free she dived for the ground, sweeping up the fallen rat's crossbow and striking the other guard detaining her with the heavy end. Now free, she twisted around and took aim, launching the heavy arrow into the scuffling rats just before two citizens tackled her.

“Uncle!” screamed Clover, clutching Kar to her chest.

Stumbling, Juniper lurched forward, bumping into Vincent, and clutched his stomach.

“Juniper?” Vincent seized Juniper trying to steady him as he wobbled. “He's hit!” he shouted. “Juniper's hit!”

Victor grabbed for Suttor, still struggling to get hold of Ragwort. “Suttor, stop!” he shouted. “It's Juniper!”

Suttor wouldn't listen. Victor jumped from the altar, landing on Suttor's back, managing to get him in a choke hold. Growling, he held down Suttor's arms until he finally stopped flailing. “Juniper's been hit. Snap out of it!” he barked. “You
must
get hold of yourself! Look around you! Your brother's not the only one who lost his life tonight, and Juniper may be next!”

At last Suttor stopped struggling. From his vantage point on the floor, he could see all the devastation that had occurred—devastation he had not noticed before. Puddles of blood were soaking into the floor; blood smeared the hanging flowers. Several rats were lying on the ground in crumpled positions. They were not moving.

Reaching down, Juniper felt the arrow protruding from his stomach. Grabbing hold of the blood-slickened wood, he yanked it from his belly, grunting as he did so.

“Papa!” cried Julius as Mother Gallo held him back.

“Steady, now,” said Virden. He and Vincent guided Juniper to the nearest chair. “Let me have a look.”

“No,” blurted Juniper. “I—I think I'm all right.”

“Not with that much blood, you're not.”

“Please, Juniper,” said Vincent, “don't be foolish.”

“It—it looks bad, I know,” said Juniper, panting. “Knocked the wind out of me, to be sure. But . . .” He opened his satchel. He pulled out a round silver tag—the one he always kept with him as a reminder, his brother's lab tag. It had been damaged, the edge of it nicked by an arrow. With some difficulty he pulled the strap over his head and turned the satchel over. It had a hole though and through. He smiled dimly at Julius and Nomi, who clutched their mother, looking on in sheer terror. With a groan, Juniper sat up a bit so they could see the wound. “See, it looks far worse than it is.” He glanced at Billycan, holding up the tag for his children. “This tag—it saved my life.”

After wiping away the blood, Virden inspected the size and location of the wound. He nodded at Mother Gallo. “The old chap's right,” he said.

Mother Gallo let out a long breath. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Hecate suddenly made a strange sound, a bubbling,
gurgling sort of sound. She grabbed at her throat. Choking, she removed her paws, revealing a silver dagger buried up to the hilt. The guards holding her let go, and she fell to the ground, thrashing briefly, and then she simply stopped.

Juniper regarded her on the ground. She was dead. He looked at Billycan. “We had her under control. Which one of your rats did this?”