The Palace (Bell Mountain Series #6) (21 page)

“Nelligg ought to be back pretty soon,” he said. “Only another hour or so till sundown.” He looked around the camp. “What’s wrong with you fellows?” he wondered. “You’re not all getting nervous, are you? I tell you there’s nothing to fear. It’s all going to go according to plan, and we’ll be rich men, in the end.”

Some of the men exchanged uneasy glances, but no one wanted to admit that a girl’s stories about witches and monsters had unsettled them. Ysbott wasn’t the kind of chief who had much patience with such things.

“I expect you two will be going home tomorrow,” he said, favoring his captives with a smile—a cruel smile, Ellayne thought. “I do hope the baron doesn’t try anything silly! But I don’t think he will.”

The sun sank down behind the trees. The outlaws made a campfire. Before it got dark, Nelligg came back with Roshay Bault’s offer of twenty-five gold pieces and his oath not to hunt them down if they took it.

“Twenty-five!” said Ysbott. “Why, the offer’s downright miserly! I must say I’m disappointed.”

“But twenty-five gold is still a lot of money, chief,” one of the men spoke up.

“I never thought he’d bargain for his daughter,” Ysbott said. “Well, two can play that game. If he offers twenty-five, I’m sure he can afford fifty.”

“The longer this takes, the more dangerous it’ll be for us,” said another man.

“But much more for the baron’s little girl,” Ysbott answered. “You’d think he’d realize that. But you spoke with him in person, Nelligg. What do you think?”

“I think he meant what he said. I think he’s a hard man,” Nelligg said. “He’d enjoy hanging us, that’s for sure. But I think if we take the twenty-five and send the girls back to him, he’ll keep his word. He’ll let us go.” And most of the other men nodded their agreement.

“Pah! Are you all turned into milksops?” When Ysbott glared at them, no one dared to look him in the eye. “I declare, Helki killed off the best of you and left me with the dregs!”

Ellayne had to wait until it was dark before she could carry out her plan. It wouldn’t work as long as there was any daylight left.

“Please, sir!” she cried. “I’ll write another note to my father. I’ll make him understand he has to pay the fifty. But you couldn’t expect him to give in right away. He’s not that kind of man.”

“I would settle for fifty,” Ysbott said. “I do believe I would.”

“Sir, you don’t know my father. He really is a very dangerous man.” Ellayne’s mouth was suddenly dry, but she couldn’t stop here. “He can be extremely cruel. He once had a man whipped to death for stealing from the town treasury, and he made everybody watch.” No such thing had ever happened, but she needed Ysbott’s men to be good and scared. “Let them be afraid of monsters,” she thought. “Let them be afraid of my father!” She wished she knew a way to scare Ysbott.

Why not just wait and see if her father and the bandit could agree on a ransom? “Because you can’t trust a man like this!” she answered herself. She’d seen more of the world than any other girl her age, and Martis had warned her about many other things she hadn’t seen.

“You’ll write another note, for sure,” Ysbott said. “But I want my supper first.”

Not that the gang had much left in the way of rations. They all knew how to set snares for small game, but no one had done that today. They knew how to steal from travelers and farmers, but hadn’t had any opportunities to do that lately. So there was nothing much to eat except some dried venison and bits of stale bread, washed down with water from the river. Ellayne’s mother had told her many times not to drink from the river, even if sheep and cattle and horses did it without getting sick. Enith looked like she might be sick again. Ellayne slid next to her and put an arm around her.

“We’ll be all right, Enith—brace up,” she said; and, in a whisper as soft as she could manage, “Whatever happens next, don’t be afraid. Just pretend to be afraid.” Whether Enith heard it or not, Ellayne didn’t know.

The sun went down. One by one, the first few stars came out. The men finished their meal, mostly in silence. “Not in high spirits, are they?” Ellayne thought. “Good!”

It was dark enough now, she thought.

Carefully reaching into her pocket, she felt for the item hidden there, and even more carefully manipulated it with her fingers. “Lord, help me!” she prayed silently. “Help me do this right.” After a few moments that seemed much longer, she had what she wanted—a quiet little stream of tinny music, with a shrill, inhuman voice singing in an unknown language.

Enith flinched. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. The nearest men stiffened and looked all around the campsite. Someone said, “What’s that? Listen!” In a moment they were all sitting at attention, all straining their ears.

“What the devil is that?” growled Ysbott. He stood up, peering into the darkness under the trees.

“It’s music,” a man said. “Music!”

“Who’d be playing music out here? There’s no one here but us.”

“Quiet!” Ysbott said. “This is some trick of the baron’s, rot him!” He turned to his captives. “But I’ll teach him not to play tricks on me!”

Ellayne cried, “Wait!” She held up a hand and Ysbott hesitated. “Don’t do anything, on your life! I know what that music is.”

They all stared at her. Ellayne startled them, even Ysbott, by suddenly springing to her feet. The bonds around her ankles parted instantly, as if by magic.

Before anyone could react, she drew the ancient relic from her pocket and held it out before her. White light burned their eyes: it was as if she held a live star in her hand. The men gasped, shuddered, and scrabbled back from her on hands and haunches. Ysbott stood like a man turned into stone.

“This is how my father beat the monsters!” Ellayne declared. “I told you witches and demons never die. Here’s proof of it! Listen to the music of the ancient devils. Hear the voice of the witch, singing curses on you. Behold her face!”

If you fingered the rim of the relic in a certain way, a woman’s face appeared within the light. Ellayne succeeded in doing this.

Enith screamed, a high-pitched squeal to make your blood run cold—she wasn’t pretending! Three of the men groaned hoarsely and fled into the woods before anyone could stop them.

“Witch!” hissed Ysbott. “I’ll cut out your heart and burn it!”

And then the relic started doing things it had never done before.

The tinny ant-music suddenly got louder and louder and louder, and faster and faster and faster. So did the singing voice, the words all running into a single endless jumble, horribly loud and shrill, like it would burst your eardrums. And the light intensified, so that the men cried out, and Ysbott growled and backed away, showing his teeth. Involuntarily, his hands flew up to shield his eyes.

This all happened on its own. Ellayne wasn’t doing it. Indeed, the accursed thing was getting hot, it hurt her to hold on to it.

“The witch!” she cried, at the top of her lungs. “The witch is coming for you!”

And then the light flared so bright, and so hot, that she just couldn’t hold on anymore and she screamed and let go. The relic, which was now just nothing but a ball of blinding light and shrieking sound, not music anymore, before it hit the ground let out an agonized shriek and burst—burst in a flash of light and a little cloud of foul and acrid smoke.

It was too much for the outlaws. They scattered in all directions, seeking safety in the dark, stumbling, crashing through the underbrush, crying out in terror—

All except Ysbott, who screamed once and then fell senseless to the earth.

Ellayne couldn’t see. She couldn’t hear. But she knew she mustn’t wait. On hands and knees she felt for Enith and found her.

Enith screamed again. Ellayne heard that.

“Hold still!” she cried. Enith shivered from head to toe. Ellayne groped for the knife in her boot, found it, and by grace cut loose Enith’s bonds without cutting flesh. While she was doing it, Enith’s white face swam into her field of vision. “I’m not blind!” she thought.

“Ellayne, Ellayne! What was it? I can’t see!”

Ellayne’s ears still rang, but she heard and understood.

“Never mind!” she answered. “Come on, get up, we’ve got to go! They might come back.”

She helped Enith up, not an easy task. The girl clung to her.

“I see your face!”

“We’ll be all right,” said Ellayne. “I can see now. Let’s go!”

Hand in hand, they sought and found the path that led out of the woods, away from Ysbott’s hideaway.

Led to where, Ellayne wasn’t at all sure.

CHAPTER 22

The White Doe

While Ellayne and Enith waited for Nelligg to return from Ninneburky, King Ryons explored the forest, venturing farther than he’d ever been before. He knew that someday soon his army would set out for Silvertown and he wouldn’t be able to do this anymore. He would march with his chiefs, and his Ghols would guard him night and day: no more playing in the woods for him. So he took Cavall and Baby, with Angel escorting them overhead, and set out to see what he could see.

Had he known more of the folklore of Lintum Forest, what happened next would probably not have happened.

Up above, Angel gave a shrill cry that meant she’d spotted something worthy of her human being’s attention. It was already past noon, and Ryons should have turned back to Carbonek. But Cavall pricked up his ears and sniffed the air and gave a little growl, a hunter’s growl, and Baby, for a moment, stood stock-still.

Ryons got a glimpse of something white amid the underbrush, some little distance ahead. It moved. Some foliage parted, and for a moment he spied the face of a snow-white doe: truly white as snow, except for her dark brown eyes and nose. Cavall barked once, then sprang forward, and the hunt was on.

“Hi-ho! After her, Cavall!” Ryons charged after the hound, excited beyond anything he’d ever known: not like the hideous, stomach-churning excitement of a battle, but rather a delicious excitement that went right to your head. He’d never heard of such a thing as a snow-white doe—but what a prize to bring home to Helki. “Come on, Baby!” And he whistled to Angel, but she was already in pursuit of the prey.

Ellayne could have told him that a white doe always betokened strange adventures, at least in the stories of Abombalbap. It would lead you to a witch’s castle, or buried treasure, a sleeping princess surrounded by a hedge of thorns, or something equally marvelous. But Ryons had never heard any of those stories. There was nothing in his heart but to chase the doe until he caught it.

Cavall was swift, but the doe stayed always just a step ahead of him. Baby crashed through the underbrush, slowed by his great size. Ryons followed the sound of Cavall’s barking, seldom coming close enough to see either him or the doe. Angel darted from treetop to treetop, screeching at the quarry, all caught up in the joy of the chase.

“Keep it up, keep it up!” the boy panted. “We mustn’t let her get away!” He paid not the slightest attention to where he was going and hadn’t the least idea of where he was: such concerns never entered his mind. Nor did he notice that the sun was going down and the shadows were lengthening beneath the trees. All that mattered was the white doe.

When their king failed to return by sundown, the Ghols were upset, and Chagadai wanted to go out and search for him. But Helki surprised them all by saying no.