Skulduggery Pleasant: Last Stand of Dead Men (31 page)

alkyrie woke the next morning, ate a surprisingly hearty breakfast, and they set off. They stopped a few hours later for food, and almost immediately upon starting out again they came across a trail. They followed it to a larger trail which Skulduggery insisted on calling a road. They almost lost this road multiple times as long grasses threatened to swallow it. It was getting dark by this stage. A vote was taken – to set up camp or continue walking. Six to one. They kept walking.

The fog came from nowhere, blotting out the stars in the night sky. Valkyrie frowned. She no longer felt the eddying currents of air against her skin.

Ghastly snapped his fingers. Nothing happened. “Either we’ve stepped into a huge binding circle,” he said, “or this fog has just dampened our magic.”

The Dead Men turned, facing out, expecting an attack. Only Skulduggery remained calm.

“We’re here,” he said, as he pulled up his hood.

They were on the edge of Wolfsong and they hadn’t even known it. It was an old town, stuck out here in the middle of nowhere, lit up with flickering torches. There were sigils on the outer walls, barely noticeable through the fog, and friendly faces on the people within. They didn’t look like the type of people who were about to spring an attack. Skulduggery and the others immediately switched to speaking French, and Valkyrie smiled and nodded and did her best to understand what was being said. In the end she gave up and just focused on smiling and nodding.

They were directed to a tavern, and they walked in and Valkyrie’s stomach started rumbling. It had been hours since she’d last eaten, and the smell of freshly cooked food was overwhelming. They took a table by the wall and ordered food and drink, and as they ate the tavern owner came over, an Englishman with a neat beard.

“Hello there,” he said in English. “Not often we have tourists in our little hamlet. Name’s Griff, pleased to make your acquaintance. You’ve been here before, have you?”

“A hundred years ago or more,” said Vex. “Not much has changed.”

Griff laughed. “Not much needed to. You can keep the outside world, thank you very much. We’re happy where we are. And why wouldn’t we be?” He looked closer at Skulduggery, peering beneath the hood. “Well, there’s something you don’t see every day. You must be that skeleton fellow I’ve heard so much about—Skulduggery someone. Welcome to Wolfsong, sir.”

“Thank you,” said Skulduggery. “Do you get fogs like this often?”

Griff shrugged. “It visits every day as the sun wanes, and takes our magic. The price we pay, I suppose, for living in peace. The first time it came, it brought with it wraiths.”

Skulduggery tilted his head. “Is that so?”

Griff leaned in to Valkyrie, his eyes narrowing mischievously. “You ever seen a wraith, young lady? Terrible creatures to behold. Warlocks command them. I speak not one word of a lie, ask your friends. Once upon a time, they were men and women, but after the Warlocks got through with them, they shed their humanity like a snake sheds its skin. Pale and terrible, they are. You hold your finger a hair’s breadth from their skin and your finger is likely to freeze. But you touch their skin and it’s like a heat you’ve never felt. They burn to the touch, and can’t be killed. They get their hands on you and it’s death, and a hollow kind of death, at that. They leave your ghost wrapped up in eternal torment, so the legend goes.”

“Why did they attack?” asked Vex.

Griff sat back, gave another shrug. “Warlocks commanded it. Don’t know why. They have a settlement, up in the mountains to the east. Or they had. Don’t know if it’s still there. Some of our boys disappeared one night. Their friends said they’d gone to creep up on the Warlock camp, to see if the stories of their unnatural practices were true. A week later, they still hadn’t returned. There was talk of going up after them.

“Then the fog came, and the wraiths. They walked through the streets, dozens of them. Silent. They killed so many.”

“How did you stop them?” Valkyrie asked.

“We didn’t,” said Griff. “Those who weren’t killed ran until they were clear of the fog. It cleared by morning, and took the wraiths with it.”

“And they never came back?”

“They haven’t as of yet.”

Valkyrie frowned. “But how can you feel safe here? How can you sleep? How many locks can you have on a door?”

“Locked doors mean little to wraiths,” said Griff, smiling a little. “But we learned our lesson. We don’t go into the mountains any more. We don’t trouble them, they won’t trouble us.”

“So you haven’t noticed anything strange?” Skulduggery asked. “The Warlocks haven’t been active recently?”

“We haven’t noticed anything at all,” Griff said. “They might still be up there, or they might not. We don’t even look in that direction any more.”

“What would you say if I told you there have been reports of increased Warlock activity at all their known settlements around the world?”

“I wouldn’t know about any of that. Is that why you’re here, then? To see if they’re stretching their legs? Because while you may be guests here, and we treat our guests well, we cannot allow you to go up there.”

“We’re not planning on it,” Ravel said quickly. “That’s not why we’re here. How much contact have you had with the outside world?”

“Little,” Griff admitted.

“Then you have heard nothing about the war?”

“Another one?”

“Sadly, yes, but this one is different. It’s a war between Sanctuaries. Wolfsong is a small town, but it’s a town with a proud history. You have defied the Paris Sanctuary’s rulings and you have prospered here, alone and isolated. You seized your independence and you clung to it, fought for it, even when they tried to take this town by force.”

“I remember all that,” said Griff. “I was here when it happened. Now I hope you’ll excuse me, because I don’t speak all flowery like you Sanctuary mages, but if you want to ask a question, ask a question. Leave the flowers for the gardens.”

“Well said,” muttered Shudder.

“Very well,” said Ravel. “Griff, we want Wolfsong to lend its strength to the Irish Sanctuary. In return, we will provide you with assistance and resources should you need them.”

Griff grunted, and stroked his beard. “It seems to me that Ireland is a long way away.”

“This is true. But the alternative is to add your strength to the Sanctuary in Paris, and fight against us.”

“No,” said Griff, “the alternative is not to add our strength to anyone. Why would we get involved in your disagreements? It’s got precious little to do with us.”

“War has a tendency to spread.”

“Especially if invited. You all seem like nice people, but we’re not nearly as strong as we were a hundred years ago. The wraiths took our strongest fighters. We wouldn’t add much to your forces.”

“On the contrary, you would be an invaluable asset. The more allies behind enemy lines we can secure, the greater our chances of success become. Wolfsong won’t be the only one who will rally to our cause.”

“How many so far?”

“I’m sorry?”

“How many towns have you rallied to your cause?”

Ravel smiled. “You’ll forgive me for withholding certain details, I’m sure. Let’s just say it’s more than a few.”

It was a barefaced lie, and Valkyrie wasn’t sure that Griff was buying it.

“In that case,” Griff said, “why would you need us? It sounds like you have things well in hand.”

“There’s always room for more.”

“But not us, I’m afraid. Not with Mandat’s outpost so close. They’ve left us alone for all this time because we have not offered them any reason to interfere. Grand Mage Mandat is not a man to cross – he’s quick to anger and slow to forgive. I’m sorry, our answer must be no.”

Skulduggery leaned closer. “Then we need a way into the research facility. We need to get in undetected.”

Griff laughed. “And you lower your voice to tell me this? Walls have ears, is that it? You have nothing to fear in Wolfsong, my friend. Secrets do not pass beyond the boundaries of our town, you can be assured of that.”

“I wish I could be as trusting as you.”

“Or, if you prefer to stay suspicious, I can do the trusting for all of us.” Griff laughed again. “Nobody gets close to that facility without Mandat’s people being aware of it. The approach is littered with sensors and alarms. To accomplish what you need to accomplish, you would need a guide who has been there and back.”

“Do you know of any such guide?”

“No I do not, and if I did I wouldn’t tell you. Mandat rules his Sanctuary with a heavy fist. So unlike the days of Grand Mage Trebuchet.”

“I knew Trebuchet,” said Ravel. “He was a good man. Fair. Just.”

“Too fair,” said Griff. “Too just. Honourable men are easy targets to people like Mandat. They can never begin to comprehend the depths to which their opponents will stoop to seize power for themselves. It was a sad day for the French Sanctuary when Mandat became Grand Mage and Trebuchet was sent out into the wilds. Well, I say ‘wilds’. He didn’t go very far, if I’m being honest.”

“He’s still alive?” Ravel asked. “He might know a way into the facility. Griff, please, if you can’t help us, maybe he can. Where is he?”

Griff stood, hitched his trousers a little, and nodded behind them. “He’s over there,” he said, and walked away.

The man he’d nodded to sat in a corner with his head down. Grey hair, cut tight. Silvery stubble. A hard face.

“He looks grumpy,” Vex said. “Objectionable. You really think you can get him to help?”

“Don’t worry,” said Ravel, “I’ll convince him.”

They approached Trebuchet’s table, stood there until the old man raised his eyes.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Trebuchet said.

“We had to,” said Ravel. “We need your help.”

“My answer is no. Now leave.”

“Do you remember me?”

“Of course I remember you, Mr Ravel. There is precious little I forget, no matter how much I might want to. My answer is still no.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

“It doesn’t matter. When I left the Sanctuary, I left it all behind. Everything and everyone I care about is in Wolfsong. The rest of the world can burn and it would not bother me in the slightest. Leave me now.”

Ravel hesitated, and they all walked back to their table.

“I will never doubt you again,” said Vex.

“Shut up.”

Griff rented them rooms, and Valkyrie fell asleep on a soft mattress and was grateful for it. She awoke with a rumbling belly, like she hadn’t eaten in days. It was still dark outside, but she dressed and went downstairs to find the rest of the Dead Men tucking into a generous breakfast – all except Skulduggery, who only joined them after she had started eating.

“We should get going,” he said.

“Why do you have your hood up?” Valkyrie asked with a mouth full of sausage. “This is a sorcerer town.”

“Yet as a walking skeleton I am still somewhat unique,” he replied. “People tend to stare at things they are not used to. Now stop talking and eat faster. We have things to do.”

They left Wolfsong and the fog started to clear, and dawn streaked across the horizon. Valkyrie looked back at the town, finding it immensely creepy the way the fog just enveloped it completely. She would have liked to stay to see it in the daytime, when the fog retreated, but Skulduggery seemed to be working to his own mysterious schedule.

Two hours later, Valkyrie’s belly was rumbling again.

“I’m starving,” she said.

“Me too,” said Saracen.

“Same here,” said Ravel. “It’s like I never ate breakfast.”

Skulduggery stopped, looked at them all. “What about the rest of you? Are you hungry?”

Vex and Ghastly nodded.

“Complaining is for little girls,” Shudder said. “With no offence to little girls. But yes, I am hungry.”

“What’s the problem?” asked Ghastly.

“I didn’t see any livestock,” Skulduggery said. “I didn’t see any crops. Where are they getting their food? Wolfsong has always been self-sufficient.”

“Maybe they’ve started to trade,” Ravel said. “Or maybe they keep their livestock and crops somewhere else. Why is it such a big deal?”

“I don’t know. Something’s been gnawing at me since we left.”

Valkyrie sagged. “Please don’t tell me we have to go back.”

“I’m not saying that. OK, yes, I’m saying that, but didn’t Trebuchet seem scared to you?”

“He seemed grumpy. Not as grumpy as I am right now, but grumpy.” Valkyrie looked back the way they’d come. “You want us to walk up that hill? We just walked down it, and now we have to walk back up it? Why couldn’t we have just stayed where we were? Why couldn’t we have had this conversation while we were up there?”

Skulduggery started walking back. The others did likewise. Valkyrie glowered, and plodded after them.

They followed the trail through the trees, and by the time they emerged on to the open fields the conversation had died.

Valkyrie’s feet were sore again, and she was tired and starving. No one else was complaining, though, not even Saracen, so she kept her mouth shut, but when the others stopped beside some old ruins, she gladly sat on a moss-covered slab of stone that jutted from the earth like a giant’s broken tooth. She jammed her fingers into her pockets and buried her chin in her chest. A cold wind blew from the mountains in the distance and tried to sneak past her collar to send icy fingers trickling down her spine. The sky was grey and the mud was brown and the ruins were old. Timbers rotted where roofs had caved in. Stone walls crumbled and pitched at odd angles, sinking into the muck. She hadn’t even noticed these ruins the first time they’d passed.