The Fork-Tongue Charmers (29 page)

The rider was Earl Morningwig Longchance.

He directed his steed to the center of the stumps, where Slinister greeted him with a broad smile. Hyde followed closely behind. Spidercreep had become aware of the new arrivals and sniffed the air anxiously. The stillness of the forest was now broken up by the snorts of nervous horses, the scuffling of their hooves, and the gentle clank of riders' armor.

Longchance stared down at Harmless from high atop his mount. Harmless and Rye were alone and surrounded by soldiers, and yet Longchance still maintained a healthy distance.

“I'm glad you found us,” Slinister said. “I hope my directions through the forest weren't too difficult to follow.”

“You've really done it, Valant,” Longchance cooed. “Not only have you won me an island, you've delivered to me the most notorious outlaw in all the Shale. It has been a banner week for you. Your reputation is well earned.”

Slinister bowed with a flourish.

Rye glanced at Harmless. Slinister had told the Earl he'd been victorious on Pest.

“And he is alone?” Longchance asked, casting a wary eye to the shadows of the trees.

“He is.” Slinister seemed to hesitate. “Except for her, that is.”

“That's delightful, Valant,” Longchance said dryly. He drew his horse back as if it might step in something unseemly. “You know how I adore children. Now we'll need to get rid of her, too.”

Longchance gave Harmless the smuggest of grins. “I told you not long ago that your days were numbered,” he said. “Turns out I was right.”

Harmless didn't blink or say anything in reply.

“Unchain your little monster, Valant,” Longchance said, turning to Slinister and Spidercreep. “Let's feed them to it and be done.”

Harmless took a step forward. The soldiers quickly stirred and Longchance drew his long sword from its ornamental sheath at his hip. He pointed it over Harmless's head, toward Rye.

“One more step and she goes first,” Longchance spat.

“Morningwig,” Harmless said, his tone severe, “you don't know who you are dealing with. This is no constable. Think of me what you may but this treacherous
snake will have your throat before the night is out.”

Slinister opened his mouth in mock offense. “Hurtful words,” he said.

“The lies of a condemned man,” Longchance shot back at Harmless. “I'd expect nothing less from a conniving criminal such as you. Go on, feed him to the beast.”

“In front of his own daughter?” Slinister asked, and Rye thought she heard a tone of disdain in his voice. “I serve at your pleasure, but alas, Spidercreep is just a runt better suited to hunting and tracking than any real destruction. He doesn't even have eyes or claws.”

“Oh, for the sake of the Shale, I'll do it myself,” Longchance said, dropping down from his horse. He took two lumbering steps forward, like a crane wading through the shallows, then hesitated. He glanced at Harmless's blades, then his own sword, and called out, “Soldiers, disarm him.”

“But . . . ,” Slinister said, putting up his hands and quickly stepping between Longchance and Harmless. “Perhaps something bigger than Spidercreep will do the trick.”

Only then did Rye see the ominous shadows emerge from the trees. Her stomach twisted in horror. If she had been able to find her voice, she would have screamed out loud. All around the perimeter, massive gray forms
stepped from the forest. In the lantern light, Rye saw the knots of red-orange hair, the misshapen faces pierced with fish hooks and metal bolts. Her nose filled with the stench of the bogs.

The soldiers barely had time to turn and defend themselves. It took only minutes for the Bog Noblins to vanquish every last one of them, leaving just a few terrified horses galloping frantically around the clearing.

H
armless threw himself on top of Rye to shield her. He cut the bonds at her wrists with a sword and pulled her body close to his own.

Slinister and Hyde anxiously surveyed the carnage around them. They were all surrounded by more Bog Noblins than Rye could count. None of them were as small as Spidercreep, who had wrapped himself in a terrified ball behind his stump. These beasts were thick and hulking, each at least three heads taller than a man. But when Rye saw Slinister's face, he wore a look of quiet satisfaction.

Longchance stood dumbstruck, his sword dangling limp in his hand.

One of the largest of the Bog Noblins lurched for him, its jaws and long plaited beard slick with the remains of a soldier. Before the beast could take the Earl, a red coil wrapped around Longchance's neck like a tentacle and pulled him back. It was Slinister's whip. He put his foot into Longchance's leg and dropped him to his knees, then stepped between him and the Bog Noblin.

Slinister stood straight and stared up at the Bog Noblin's hard, malicious eyes.

“Not this one,” he commanded.

The Bog Noblin growled and ducked down, his protruding chin and upturned nose just inches from Slinister's spiked beard.

“NOT this one,” Slinister commanded again. “I still need him.”

The Bog Noblin glowered, as if waiting for Slinister to back down. He didn't. Reluctantly, the creature took a step away.

“Slinister,” Harmless called. “What have you done?”

Rye's eyes flicked around the clearing. The ring of monsters seemed to inch closer. Their shadows now dimmed the lantern lights strung from the trees.

“Only what we should have done long ago, Gray,” Slinister said. “I've brought the House of Longchance
to its knees. Two-thirds of his forces are lost at sea or prisoners on Pest.”

“What?” Longchance demanded from the ground.

“Hush.” Slinister tightened the whip around his throat and gave him a rough tug that made the Earl gasp. He turned his attention back to Harmless. “Most of the rest are now lying around us. And I have my own army now—not only the Fork-Tongue Charmers, but a legion of beasts. Quite an important development, wouldn't you say?”

From the trees, chalky, hooded faces appeared, their eye sockets and lips black. Fork-Tongue Charmers masking themselves with ash. The Charmers and Noblins eyed each other uneasily but did not attack.

“What did you promise them?” Harmless asked gravely. “What did it take to get the Bog Noblins to agree to assist you?”

“Not as much as you might expect,” Slinister said with a tight smile. “I promised them the one that their kind sometimes calls
the Nightmare
.
The Painsmith
. You haven't heard those names in a long time but you remember them, I'm certain. I promised them
you
.”

Rye's face fell.

“And here you are.” Slinister waved his hand at the Bog Noblins. “This is the clan of the Dreadwater.”

Harmless eyed the Bog Noblins as they circled
closer around them. He crouched and pressed Rye tighter behind his arms.

“Now you
do
have a few options here,” Slinister said conspiratorially. “You can let them take you, but we both know that wouldn't be your nature. You can stay and fight them, but frankly, look at the numbers. That's a fight even you know you'll lose.” He tapped the spiked beard on his chin. “Or you can run. Into the forest and never look back.” He looked at Rye, and she thought she recognized a hint of regret in his eyes. “Take Rye with you, of course. It was never my intention that she become part of this, but the best laid plans are sometimes thwarted by the unwitting. Maybe you can outpace them for a day or even a week.”

Slinister's lips curled and any sign of regret was now replaced by self-satisfaction.

“But regardless, when I signal the Call for the next Black Moon, you won't be here to answer it. The High Chieftain failing to answer the Call? That's unheard of. That's another important development that all the Luck Uglies will need to discuss.”

And there was the final piece of the puzzle, Rye thought. Slinister had masked himself as a constable to earn the Earl's trust. He'd convinced Longchance to commission a fleet of warships to sack the Isle of Pest, diverting the Earl's soldiers from Drowning and using
them as pawns in his own game of revenge. But when it became clear that Pest would not fall easily, he sabotaged the fleet to achieve an even greater ambition—the House of Longchance laid crippled at his feet.

And now, finally, with no High Chieftain, Slinister could wrench control of the Luck Uglies for himself.

Slinister extended an open palm toward Harmless and called to the large Bog Noblin that had approached him. “Go on, claim your prize.”

“Wait,” a voice called out.

An ashen-faced Charmer hobbled from among the others at the edge of the forest. Rye bristled at the familiar, pale blue eyes behind the ash.

Bramble paused when he reached Slinister. He was winded and limped noticeably. Harmless regarded him with dark eyes.

“Let me take my niece,” he said to Slinister. “Don't condemn her to her father's fate.”

Rye was so furious she thought she might spit on her uncle's boots. She should have taken her cudgel to his head.

Slinister's sea-flecked gaze found Rye, then retreated. His face betrayed indecision, as if he was battling against some old, dark turmoil that raged far away.

Had Slinister hoped to spare her all along? Would he have returned to find her on the Isle of Grit himself?

“Go on,” he told Bramble quietly. “Be quick about it, before I change my mind.”

Bramble stepped over to Harmless and looked down at him with cold eyes. Harmless just stared back, and Rye couldn't tell if he was angry or disappointed.

“Come,” Bramble said, and extended a hand to Rye.

Rye just glared out from behind Harmless's arms without budging. Harmless tried to push her forward but Rye struggled against him.

“No, I won't leave you.”

“COME!” Bramble barked, and grabbed her hand roughly. Rye yanked herself free but felt something in her palm. She opened her hand to see what Bramble had given her.

The leather band was strung with runestones like her own. She knew it well. It was a collar.

“Keep it,” Bramble whispered, “to remember him.”

Rye looked to her uncle in confusion.

Dead leaves rustled as a thick, black shape exploded across the clearing. It bounded to the nearest Bog Noblin and lurched at it with such fury that the massive creature dropped to one knee. Rye couldn't believe her eyes. It was Shady!

But Shady wasn't alone. Another Gloaming Beast
was at his side, springing at the Bog Noblin's throat, embedding its nails and claws. This Gloaming Beast was the color of smoke. Gristle.

The Bog Noblins suddenly turned on the Fork-Tongue Charmers.

“This is not my doing!” Slinister called out urgently. “We've been betrayed!”

But the rest of the Dreadwater were not listening, and the Fork-Tongue Charmers had no choice but to draw their weapons and defend themselves against the Bog Noblins' wrath.

Bramble extended a hand and pulled Harmless to his feet. He looked around at the chaos. The Gloaming Beasts had quickly brought down another Bog Noblin but too many remained. Horses fled madly. The Fork-Tongue Charmers held their own for the time being, but they would not be able to hold off an entire clan.

“The numbers are all wrong,” Bramble said. “Even with the Gloaming Beasts, this one won't end our way.” He looked to Harmless for an answer.

“Get Riley out of the forest,” Harmless said. “That's all we can hope for now.”

Rye could hear them speaking, but their words only made her feel even more helpless. She spotted Hyde slowly inching away from a Bog Noblin, his back to her. She charged forward and snagged her cudgel from his belt. He turned quickly. Rye raised the cudgel over her shoulder. She didn't know whether the blow would be
for Hyde or the Bog Noblin, but someone grabbed her arm and pulled her away before she could swing. It was Bramble.

“Bramble, I'm . . .”

“Not now, niece,” he said. Limping, he rushed her toward a horse.

In the confusion, Rye saw Slinister ferociously cut down a Bog Noblin. He escaped to the shelter of the trees, dragging Longchance roughly behind him. Shady and Gristle preoccupied several more, but the rest of the Bog Noblins now bore down on Rye and Bramble. Bramble stopped and turned to protect her, his sword drawn as one rushed at them.

Harmless threw himself across its back, his arms and twin swords wrapped around the beast's neck. The creature stopped, craned its head, and clamped its jaws down on Harmless's arm. The sword in Harmless's bitten hand dropped to the ground. Before the monster could do further damage, Harmless buried his remaining sword home, and rode the beast down as it slumped to the forest floor.

Harmless rolled to the side and stumbled to his feet. Bramble had no time to help him as he sprang to fend off another attack.

Rye's jaw fell open. The Bog Noblins were too numerous. They were overrun. She saw Harmless look
at his arm, hanging limp at his side. He'd been severely injured. His wolflike eyes flashed at the destruction around him.

When his gaze found Rye's, she gasped. Rye shook her head and mouthed “no.”

Harmless's eyes were telling her good-bye.

“NO!” she yelled.

Harmless grabbed the sleeve of his lifeless arm and shook it, the splatter from his wound creating a trail on the dead leaves. Then, clutching it to his side, he stumbled toward Longchance's own warhorse.

“No, Harmless!” Rye cried as she stepped toward him. “Don't go!”

But he had already pulled himself onto the horse. He tugged its reins so that the animal whinnied and reared on its hind legs. The Bog Noblins spotted him, just as Rye knew he'd intended. Slumped on the horse's neck, Harmless kicked his heels, and the stallion tore off into the trees, just ahead of the first Bog Noblin, who plunged into the forest after him. Rye lost count as five, six, seven more Bog Noblins followed.

Rye ran to where they'd disappeared, but someone grabbed her collar from behind. She gasped and pulled free momentarily, but a menacing Fork-Tongue Charmer lurched for her again. He tightened his hand around her throat. Rye coughed as she struggled to break free.

A swift blow jolted the Charmer's head and his grip went slack. His eyes rolled back and he sprawled at her feet. A cloaked figure stepped over him, its fists still clenched and at the ready. When the Charmer didn't move, the figure turned to Rye, its hooked beak and hollow eyes staring out from its hood. The Luck Ugly placed its studded leather gauntlets on her shoulders.

A mouth of scrap-metal teeth opened and a familiar voice rasped in her ear. “Easy, lass. It's time for you to go.”

“Knockmany?” she said.

He lifted an arm and pulled her into his cloak like the folds of wing. The next thing she knew, she was boosted onto the back of a horse and felt someone climb on behind her.

Rye craned her head to look back at the far end of the clearing and the darkness of the forest beyond.

“Harmless,” she whispered.

She saw now that Knockmany had not joined her. The old man stepped back into the fray, felling one Bog Noblin, then another, with blades and bare hands, until so many surrounded him that his black cloak finally crumpled into a heap. He disappeared under their flail of claws.

“Keep your head down,” the man behind her said. A hand gently pressed her face against the horse's mane.
“Just stay still and this old girl will do all the work.” It was Bramble's voice.

The horse tore forward. It plunged into the trees and Rye pinched her eyes tight as jagged branches leaped at her. They rushed through thorns and thickets. It seemed they would be impaled by the jagged spikes of the tree limbs at any moment. But when she opened her eyes, she saw that the horse was careening left and right, hurdling one branch and narrowly threading through tight, invisible passageways.

She dared to glance behind them one last time, but saw no one following. No Luck Uglies or Fork-Tongue Charmers. No Bog Noblins or Gloaming Beasts. No Knockmany.

And no Harmless.

All that lay behind them was the dark, wooded labyrinth of Beyond the Shale.