Daybreak (57 page)

“No!” D’Mere cried again as they dragged him down. Though she snarled, her eyes shone like glass. Thelred watched her lips twist to form the words:
You fool … you fool
.

The Fallows raised their fists, balled like hammers above their heads, and brought them down in a deadly rhythm. They seemed to pound for an eternity. Thelred couldn’t close his eyes, he couldn’t cover his ears. The wet noise of flesh meeting stone overtook every other sound in the hall; the dark red puddle that seeped from between the flailing bodies engulfed his vision.

When Right’s boots stopped twitching, Gilderick waved the Fallows aside. “Enough. That whelp won’t trouble us again. Now …” his black eyes slid to where D’Mere had collapsed, “bring me the Countess.”

Thelred didn’t know what was about to happen, but he knew he could do nothing to stop it. His wooden leg was shattered and useless. He would be dashed to bits the second he rose. He was trapped once again, forced to watch while Gilderick carried out whatever horrible torture he had planned.

D’Mere, for her part, didn’t look the least bit concerned. She stared Gilderick down as the Fallows dragged her closer, her eyes burning and her fists clenched to white. There was anger on her face, perhaps even hatred. But one thing he’d expected to see wasn’t there at all:

There was no surprise.
 

All at once, Thelred realized what was happening. Her words twisted inside his head and the truth spilled out before him. D’Mere wasn’t surprised because she’d known that the Fallows were coming. Gilderick was the
him
they had to stop. And after seeing the way he’d devoured Greyson’s army, Thelred understood why.

If Gilderick escaped the island, his rule would be worse than any Duke or King: he would consume the entire realm with his madness.
 

Thelred sank back, his heart pounding. He knew he had to lie still. He couldn’t catch Gilderick’s attention. No matter what happened, he had to stay conscious. He had to survive just a little while longer. The Kingdom had to be warned.

But when the Fallows dragged D’Mere into Gilderick’s reach, it was all he could do to stay calm.

One of them shoved D’Mere onto her knees, while another wrenched her head up by the roots of her golden-brown hair.

“Open your eyes, Countess,” Gilderick hissed. “Open them!”

She didn’t flinch under his screams. If anything, her shoulders straightened.

“Fine.” Gilderick’s voice went deadly quiet. “If you won’t open them, then I’ll peel them open myself. Bring me closer.”

The giant who cradled him leaned forward. One of Gilderick’s spidery hands reached out —

“Gah!”

It happened so fast Thelred almost didn’t see it: D’Mere ripped a dagger from beneath her collar and lunged for Gilderick. The Fallows shrieked at his cry and clutched their arms. The one who held D’Mere struck her hard in the side of the head. 

Thelred had to bite his lip when her body fell limply to the floor. He choked on his screams, let his fury pound inside his skull.
Don’t move
, he thought to himself.
Don’t move, don’t —

“Don’t kill her, you fools!” Gilderick moaned. The spidery hand shook as it reached out, stained with red. “She missed — I’m barely scratched. Now get her up, get her up quickly! Hurry, before her light fades.”

A desert man pulled D’Mere up by her hair and brought her face to Gilderick’s. Her features were hidden — drowned in a dark, sticky red. Thelred watched her hand for any small movement, any twitch of life.

But he saw none.

After a second of gazing into her eyes, Gilderick laughed. “That’s it? That’s all it is? Well then, that should be simple enough.”

D’Mere moaned softly. Thelred couldn’t hear what she said, but it made Gilderick’s lips twist into a horrifying grin.

“No, Countess. That whelp destroyed me — he stole everything from me. While I was lost inside the desert, rotting beneath the sun, there was only one thought that kept me alive: that I would either have his mind, or have him dead. Your marvelous poison will make all of that possible. Once my army wields the mindrot, it won’t be stopped. I couldn’t have done it without you.” His hand reached out and brushed down her darkened lips, mixing her blood with his own. “I didn’t want to kill you, dear Olivia. It’s a shame you chose to fight me … then again, you’ve always been a bit too soft for my tastes.”

Gilderick snapped his fingers, and the Fallows took off. They charged in a horde for the front gates. Thelred waited until they’d gone before he dragged himself to D’Mere.

Over bodies, across stone, through slick blood until he reached her. He pulled her head from the floor; he wiped the red from her face with his sleeve. Thelred stared into her eyes, not entirely certain of what he expected to see — but he knew he hadn’t been expecting to feel their emptiness reflected inside his chest …

Or the quiet snap of something deep within him breaking.

“D’Mere?” he whispered.

Her eyes widened at the sound of his voice. “Thel … red?”
 

“Yes, I’m here. What do I need to do? How do I stop Gilderick?”

Her lips moved, but he couldn’t make out what she said. Thelred had to lean over her before he could hear the whispered words:

“Get … the torch …”

Thelred followed her glare to the sconces upon the wall, where the torches sputtered weakly.

“The … arrow …” One of her bloodied hands twisted into his tunic. Her eyes sharpened behind the film of her pain. “The bridge …”

All at once, Thelred understood: the mop and bucket, the rag coated in resin …
 

“Burn the bridge. You’ve rigged it to burn.” He gripped her hand when she nodded. “I’ll do it. I swear I’ll burn Gilderick alive.”

Her eyes fell shut, then. Thelred had to bare his teeth against a sudden swell of pain — a pain that crashed against his wounds and threatened to drag him under. She was leaving him. He could already feel the cold stirring in the tips of her fingers …

And he couldn’t bear to watch.

“I hope you find him, Olivia. I hope to Fate you’ll cross.” He pressed his lips against hers and set her body down gently. After a heavy breath, he dragged himself to his feet.

Thelred limped to the sconces first and grabbed a torch from the wall. Then he began the long journey up the stairs.
 

He used his sword for a cane and leaned heavily upon the banisters, holding the torch out beside him. His ribs stabbed so mercilessly that he was out of breath by the time he reached Right’s bow. 

There was still an arrow nocked onto its string: a single bolt with its head bound in rag. Thelred slung the bow over his shoulder and kept the arrow clenched between his teeth as he fought his way up the stairs.

Every step was a battle — a race against the grains’ fall from the glass. He had to reach the ramparts before Gilderick’s army made it across the bridge. He had to stop them. Pain shook his leg; his vision was more black than color. But he forced himself on.

Morning light drenched his flesh as he pushed through the door to the castle’s roof. It washed down his neck, warmed his skin, dulled the pain. The bodies scattered across the bridge were slowing the Fallows’ escape. They moved clumsily, tripping over limbs and flopping onto the ground. They hadn’t managed to go very far. He could hear Gilderick shrieking at them:
 

“Move, you worthless corpses! Step
around
it. Don’t try to —”

A giant tripped on the body of a soldier and flipped over the rails. He landed with a heavy
plunk
into the waves below — drawing a fresh round of curses from Gilderick.
 

Thelred didn’t know why he was so desperate, at first. He followed the line of Fallows’ deadened eyes and his heart lurched when saw a fleet of boats moving towards the island. They were mostly fishing boats — and rickety ones, at that. He could practically hear them groaning against every wave that struck their sides. But from the bow of the lead ship came a familiar cry.

Eveningwing burst from the deck and swooped towards him, screeching — and the noise must’ve caught Gilderick’s attention.
 

“Look — on the ramparts! Kill him!
Bring him down
!”

Thelred’s blood froze when every last deadened eye turned upon him. The Fallows scooped up whatever they could find to throw while Thelred tried desperately to light his arrow. The ships were still a ways out. Gilderick would be gone by the time they reached land. Thelred couldn’t let him escape.

Eveningwing was coming closer, oblivious to the danger. Thelred’s arms shook as he drew the arrow back. His ribs screamed in agony. His leg, blast his leg! It trembled with such fury that he more leaned against the wall than stood.

Objects flew past him: spears, swords, and rubble. A chunk of rock struck him hard in the shoulder, jolting him. But he forced himself to stand. He would not move. He would not be shaken. He was going to end Gilderick. He would end him for the Kingdom’s sake …
 

… and for Olivia.

“I’m going as fast as I can, Captain!” Shamus insisted. He gripped the wheel and swore at the sails. They fluttered against the push of a weak breeze — hardly enough to move them a length. “There’s no blasted wind today! I can’t do aught without the wind!”

“Keep trying!” Lysander barked.
 

He was pressed in at the front of the helm, half his body stretched over the rails and his eyes locked upon the madness at the chancellor’s castle. The pirates and the wildmen were clustered at the bow in a knot that might’ve flipped a lesser ship. But
Anchorgloam
’s weight held her down — and far more than Lysander would’ve liked.

“What is it? What do you see? Blast it all,” he muttered when Eveningwing screeched back. He twisted to Silas, who was crammed in beside him. “Can you understand what he’s saying?”

“I do not speak bird,” was his hissing reply. He closed his glowing eyes, and his head tilted back. “Perhaps if the sun wasn’t blinding me, I could see more. But I smell …” His nostrils flared widely. “I smell … blood.”

“Blood?”

Lysander straightened so suddenly that he nearly lost his balance. He might very well have tumbled overboard, had Gwen not grabbed him by the belt. “Human blood?” she asked as she righted him.

“Yes, and a great deal of it.”

Lysander spun to Shamus, his hair standing up like a madman’s. “Hurry! Can’t you move any faster?”

“I can’t give any more than the wind gives me!”

“Perhaps what we need is a bit of music to —”

“
No
!”

Jonathan stuffed his fiddle away quickly at the noise of their collective roar. “All right, fine. No need to shout. I just thought a song might lighten things up a bit.”

Lysander looked about to reply when a cloud drifted over the sun, blocking its light. Silas’s glowing eyes cut across the bridge. “There’s an army — they’re running for the castle gates.”

Lysander’s face went white. “Do you see anyone else? Anyone in the castle?”

“I don’t — wait a moment.” Silas moved down the railing, shooing Lysander out of his way. Gwen stuck close behind him. “Look! I see someone.”

They followed the line of his finger to the lone man upon the castle. His shoulders were just visible over the top of the wall. With the sun blocked, it was too dark to see anything else about him. He was nothing more than a shadow.

“He carries something … I can’t tell what it is. The men on the bridge are throwing things at him. They are trying to knock him down,” Silas said, his chin cutting away. “He’ll be killed if he keeps showing his head.

Eveningwing’s screeches came in sharp, panicked bursts — growing fainter as he beat his way towards the castle.

A ghostly white overtook Lysander’s features. His words seemed stuck inside his throat.

A second later, Silas pointed again. “A bow! That’s what the man carries.” His head swung around to Gwen. “Why would an army fear an arrow?”

She didn’t get a chance to answer. The moment the man drew the bow above his head, Lysander cried: “I know that draw! Thelred — get down! Get down, you fool!”

He yelled, he beat his fists against the railings. The pirates crushed in at the bow and lent their voices to his cries. But no matter how they screamed at him, Thelred didn’t duck. He held his ground and loosed a single bolt down upon the army.

And all at once, the bridge exploded.

A burst of orange-blue flame engulfed it with a roar that shook the air between them. The fires devoured everything. Flaming bodies spilled from the bridge. In a matter of seconds, the whole thing buckled and collapsed — dragging what was left of the army down with it.

But though the noise shook their tallest mast, Lysander hardly glanced at the flames. He grabbed Silas roughly by the back of his shirt. “What happened? Where’s Thelred? Do you see him?”

“The smoke is too thick — I’m trying!” he yowled, when Lysander snatched the top of his hair.

Gwen finally had to pull him away, but the captain wouldn’t be calmed.

“Go faster! Tilt the sails, trap every last gust of wind.”
 

Though his voice broke across his orders, the pirates had never moved faster. They scrambled to their work.

By the time they reached the castle, Lysander looked near to splitting. He leapt from the rails and into the choppy water below. He hauled his dripping body up the rocks and scrambled through the castle’s front gates.
 

“Hold on, Captain — wait for us! You don’t know what’s in there,” Shamus yelled. But Lysander didn’t stop. He disappeared into the thick black smoke that trailed from the ruins, moving at a dead sprint.

Shamus signaled for the rest of the boats to make their way to the village before addressing the crew. “I just need a couple of men to row — the rest of you wait here. I don’t know what we’ll find in there, but it could be trouble. Bring some of your people along,” he said to Gwen. “Just in case things get thick.”

By the time they’d made it through the front door, Lysander was nowhere in sight. The once-grand room in the middle of the castle was destroyed: its chairs broken, its tables smashed. Bodies and gore littered the cobblestone.