The Mirror's Tale (Further Tales Adventures) (20 page)

Will lost all patience.“I
am
the baron’s son, and there
was
a beast! If you want to see one, all you have to do is wait!”

The hunter had his mouth open to retort, but then the beast barked again:
“Death! Death!”
And the following barks came, almost as close. The hunter turned his face toward the sound, and stared with his mouth stuck in that open position.

“What’s your name, sir?” Will asked.

“Gunther,” came the reply, weak and distracted. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed nervously.

Will remembered the tone his father took when he wanted something done right away. He puffed his chest and did his best impersonation. “Gunther, I am Will Charmaigne, son of Baron Charmaigne and nephew of Lord Charmaigne. You must take me to The Crags, on that horse. For your safety as well as mine as Now!”

A hundred yards away, a cluster of bushes shook and the raging beast clawed out into the open, snarling and limping toward them. “I’ve decided to take your word for it,” Gunther said. He was halfway between a daze and a panic as he held the hare out toward Will. “Hold this, will you?”

Will tossed the dead hare over his shoulder. He looked at the beast again—it was putting weight on the broken leg now, getting healthier with every step. Gunther fumbled with the leather strap that tethered his horse to a tree. Finally it came undone. The hunter scrambled into the saddle and extended a hand. Will clasped Gunther’s wrist and swung up behind him. A moment later the horse thumped down the valley, carrying the two of them away.

When the beast realized its prey had escaped, it threw its head back and roared.

CHAPTER 32

“M
irror,” said Bert, “Tell me: What has become of my brother, who would steal everything I desire?”

Once again, light flashed from the depths of the glass, and a crystal hum filled the room. Ripples spread across the cold surface and disappeared under the edges. The mirror spoke.
Your brother lives. He was not slain by the beasts.

“What!” Bert screamed, hammering both arms of the throne with his fists. “They should have gotten him! How could he escape?”

He was fortunate,
said the mirror.
But now the fortune is yours, because one of your uncle’s hunters has found the boy and brings him here. To you.

“Here? Will is coming here?” Bert said. He felt something in his chest as if a dart had struck his heart. And he thought he heard an inner voice, too far and faint to understand. He shook his head to clear it. “I must find Uncle Hugh and tell him what to do…. I’ll have Will seized as soon as he arrives. Yes, I’ll bring him down here, chain him up … He’ll be sorry he ever wanted
what was mine! Mirror, tell me, where is my uncle now?”

Another ripple, another hum.
He walks the walls of The Crags. Waiting for your next instruction.

Bert raced for the Tunnel of Stars.

CHAPTER 33

P
arley’s feet ached. He couldn’t believe they’d walked this far without encountering someone who could speed their journey.

“Are you still there, Harth?” he called into the trees at his side.

“I am,” Harth replied.

“You know, if you folk hadn’t cooked my horse, we’d be miles away by now”

A low chuckle came from the trees.“We keep no stables in our mines, sadly. And we couldn’t risk your horse being found”

“Well, it’s a shame, that’s all I’m—hold on, someone’s coming!” Parley stepped into the middle of the road. This was promising—there were certainly horses heading their way. More than a few, by the sound of it. Parley exhaled on the fat ring on his finger and rubbed it on his shirt to shine it. The ring bore the baron’s mark, proof that the courier was on the baron’s business. He wasn’t sure if it carried enough authority for him to commandeer someone’s horse and cart, but he was determined to find out.

The hoof beats came closer. “They’re in a hurry,
whoever they are,” Parley said toward the trees where Harth stayed hidden. He didn’t hear the squeak of wheels that he’d hoped for. His plan—
a shaky plan,
he admitted with a grimace—was to keep Harth hidden until he got close to Ambercrest. A wagon or cart where the Dwergh could hide would be best. Harth was an enemy of the kingdom, after all, and things could get sticky if he was spotted. Frankly they’d probably both be killed on the spot. But if he could get Harth near the castle, he could send word to the baron, begging him to meet with a stranger who had information about a threat to his son. And not just information: also a plan to save the boy.

Parley was wondering what he might say to the baron at that moment, when a group of men came into view. His jaw slackened when he realized who the riders were.

“It’s some of the baron’s soldiers—and a knight!” he called to Harth, shooting the words out of the side of his mouth.
Looks like a knight anyway. I would have preferred a farmer on a cart,
he thought. This bunch will ask too many questions. And they’ll have Harth’s head if they see him. But time was wasting, and he didn’t dare pass up the chance for transportation.
I’ll talk to them, at least.
He waved his hands over his head.

The men came at a reckless pace with the knight ahead of the other three. The knight slowed his horse, but didn’t stop. He was a tall, long-legged fellow with a crooked nose and brown hair down to his shoulders. “Trust me, sir, you
don’t want to get in my way right now,” he said to Parley. And Parley could tell he meant it. Their eyes met as the knight rode past. There was a terrible expression on the man’s face—a duet of anguish and anger.

Parley suddenly remembered the ring. He thrust his fist toward the soldiers that followed and called up, “Stop, all of you! This is the baron’s mark! I’m on the baron’s business, and I insist that you stop!”

The knight turned to glare at Parley. “And I am on the baron’s business as well But my business is graver than yours, I’ll wagen Because I must inform the baron that his son is dead.”

Parley’s bad leg buckled, and he dropped to his knees. The earth tilted beneath him, and the sun dimmed. He clapped his hands over his mouth.

“Parley?” one of the soldiers cried. “Look, boys, it’s Parley!”

Parley’s good eye was squeezed shut. He heard the
clip-clop
of hooves as the knight’s horse turned and trotted, and then the grim fellow’s voice. “This is Parley? The courier that’s been missing all these weeks?” The knight’s boots thumped on the road next to him.

Parley opened his eye and clutched the knight’s leg. “What do you mean the baron’s son is dead? Which son?”

“We were bringing Will to The Crags,” the knight said in a hoarse voice. “We were attacked by … a pack of creatures. Things I’ve never seen before.”

“Monsters,” one of the soldiers muttered.

“Beasts of The Crags,” said another.

Parley rubbed a sleeve across his cheeks. “Oh, Will, I’m so sorry. Too late … I came too late,” he said, sniffing.

“Parley, my name is Andreas,” the knight said, dropping to one knee. He put a hand on the courier’s shoulder. “Will always spoke well of you. If you want to blame someone, blame me. When the beasts came, I ordered Will into the carriage. But the carriage went out of control … the driver fell and the horses broke away. The carriage went off the cliff a few miles back. We found it smashed to pieces in the valley. And… blood inside. But no sign of the boy.”

“Oh, Bert, what have you done?” Parley moaned.

“Bert? What are you talking about, Parley?” Andreas squeezed the courier’s shoulder.

Parley blinked and focused. He looked Andreas in the eye. “Bert’s in … danger. We have to save him—we can’t lose both of them! You have to get me to Ambercrest.”

Andreas had Parley by both shoulders now. “What did you mean? You made it sound like that attack was Bert’s doing!”

“No … well, yes. Yes and no!” Parley said, somehow shaking his head and nodding at the same time. “Listen to me, Andreas. I have to tell you something. You won’t believe me at first, but I swear its true.”

Andreas stared back up the road. “After what we just saw, I’ll believe anything. Tell me.”

And Parley told him what had happened since he left Ambercrest with Bert’s letter. The other soldiers dismounted and gathered close to listen. When Parley reached the part about encountering the Dwergh, the soldiers whispered to one another in alarm.

“Dwergh!”

“It’s true, the Dwergh are here!”

“Yes, they’re here,” Parley said. “But not to steal the gold and gems from our land. They came to help.” He told them the true reason the Dwergh had returned, how Bert’s letter had finally revealed where the wicked object they sought was hidden, and how Bert was now almost certainly under its spell. All the while Andreas fixed a piercing stare on Parley. The courier began to feel unnerved.

When Parley was done, Andreas spoke. “That’s quite a tale, Parley. Now will you tell me why your eyes—er,
eye
—keeps turning to the forest behind me?”

Parley gulped.
You’d never be much of a spy,
he chided himself.
Your face is an open book. An open, ugly book.

“Well,” he said, “remember I mentioned that the Dwergh are here to help? As a matter of fact …” He paused, afraid for his hidden friend. But Harth had no such fear. He stepped out from the shadows of the trees and into the sunlight, planted his feet wide, and stood with his hands clasped behind his broad back.

There were shouts of surprise and anger and a chorus of scraping metal as swords were drawn and raised. The soldiers were about to rush the Dwergh, but Andreas sprang to his feet and called out: “Hold! All of you! Stay where you are!”

Andreas stepped toward the Dwergh with his sword still in its sheath. Harth didn’t move except to crane his neck to look at the tall knight. Parley was reminded again of how short but wide the Dwergh were, practically square. Harth’s head barely came to Andreas’s chest, but he was even broader across the shoulders.

“Andreas, this is Harth,” Parley said. “He’s a Dwergh. But I suppose you worked that out for yourself. He wants to help. It’s too late for Will, but maybe Bert can still be saved. Talk to him, Andreas. He has a plan.”

Andreas looked down at the Dwergh. “If I talk to you, I risk being accused of treason.”

Harth looked up impassively. “And if you don’t, you risk suffering and death for your people. Which is the worse evil?”

Andreas pursed his lips and nodded. “Are there more of your folk nearby?”

“Not close,” the Dwergh said. “They hide elsewhere. Waiting”

“Waiting for what?”

Harth folded his arms across his chest. “Waiting for your baron to do his part. So they can do theirs.”

CHAPTER 34

B
ert had searched practically the entire castle for his uncle. He wasn’t on the walls, despite what the mirror said. A guard in a watchtower told him that Lord Charmaigne had gone down to the courtyard a while ago. But when Bert ran there, a servant told him that his uncle went into the keep. Bert hurried back inside, calling for him, growing more red-faced by the minute. He had to find him before Will showed up. His uncle’s men must be told to seize the traitor the moment he arrived.