The Fanged Crown: The Wilds (28 page)

“Do you think Verran has them too?” Boult asked.

“It would explain how he can do spells beyond what you would expect a boy to handle,” Harp said. He felt slightly ill at the thought of a father who would lead his son into a cult and let him make a bargain that would mark his child’s life forever. Cutting his son’s throat in ritual sacrifice might have been a less cruel fate.

“And if the patron is working through him …” Boult said. Behind them, Verran yelped as Kitto yanked out the glass. “Then who knows what Verran is capable of.”

“Remember, we don’t know anything for certain,” Harp said as they went to rejoin the boys. “And I don’t want to confront him down here—if we’re wrong, we’re just going to make him upset and distract him.”

“And if we’re right?”

Harp stopped and faced Boult.”You really think he’s a warlock—do want to fight him in this cesspool? We deal with it before we get back to the Crane. Let’s find the palace. Hisari is a breeding ground for things I don’t want to meet.”

ŚŠŚ•Š• ŚŠŚ

The palace wasn’t hard to find. The wide causeway leading up to the dome was adorned with pillars, each with a white urn at the top that might have held flowers but were crumbling into dust. When the crewmates reached the carved doorway at the front of the palace, they could see a band of blue sky above them where the jungle floor didn’t meet the edge of the golden dome.

They stared at the imposing fagade, which had been constructed from dark red. An arched double doorway reached halfway up the front of the palace. Framing the sides and top of the door, three panels of redwood carvings depicted a creature with the body of a snake, the head of a bird, and horns like those of a ram. Both the stones and the ornately carved door were untouched by the dank growth that marred the rest of the fallen city.

“Look at those,” Kitto said, pointing at the pattern of tiny interlocking triangles carved into the face of door. A shiny silver stone had been laid at the center of each triangle. Of the hundreds of tiny stones spaced across the door, not a single one was missing.

“The stones must not be valuable,” Boult said as they approached the door. “Or someone would have stolen them.”

“Thieves probably took one look at the ruins and ran screaming in the other direction,” Harp said.

“Look, there’s no handle,” Kitto said, running his hands lightly over the door. “Or hinges. Or seam.”

On closer inspection, they saw that Kitto was right. The door appeared to be a solid piece of wood. If there was a way to get inside the palace through the front entrance, it wasn’t readily apparent. And it wasn’t going to be easy to search the perimeter of the building for another way inside, either. Thick, black water had seeped over the banks of the canal and settled in the low courtyards on either side of the causeway.

The rectangular courtyards were home to bulbous swamp dwellers that oozed across the top of the water and around mossy bones jutting above the water line. Except for the elevated causeway, the stagnant water surrounded the palace. Occasionally black tentacles or the arch of a bloated back would crest the surface and then disappear.

“No one goes anywhere near that water,” Harp said. “Just the sight of it probably takes years off our lives.”

“Just the sight of you takes years off my life,” Boult replied.

“Can we get up there?” Kitto asked. There was a narrow balcony high above their heads, its stone supports carved to look like snakes.

“We’re not getting anywhere,” Verran said after they had searched the front of the palace. Even Kitto couldn’t locate any handholds or niches to climb up to the balcony.

“I say we go back into the ruins and try to circle behind the palace,” Boult suggested.

“I agree,” Harp said. “What do you think, Kitto?”

“I think we’re in trouble,” Kitto said, pointing to a nifern that was standing at the top of the causeway.

“Nah,” Boult said. “They’re like dumplings With legs. I killed the other one with one blow.”

Before Boult had finished his sentence, several other niferns appeared. They milled around at the top of the causeway, raising and lowering their heads as if they Were sniffing the foul-smelling air.

“Huh,” Harp said as the pack continued to amass on the road ahead of them. “I don’t think they liked you calling them dumplings.”

“Your mother was a dumpling,” Boult said.

“My mother was a saint.”

“Your mother was a whore who left you in an alley for the rats.”

“Your mother was a rat who left you in the alley for the whores,” Harp retorted.

“Shut up!” Verran snapped. “Can’t you be serious for once?”

“It gets them worked up to kill something,” Kitto said. “You should try it.”

“I don’t think so,” Verran said. “And I don’t see you making a fool of yourself every time you open your mouth, Kitto.”

“My house is in order,” Kitto said. “I’m not scared to die.”

“You don’t have a house, kiddo,” Harp said, smiling faintly.

“That’s why it’s so easy to keep it clean,” Kitto replied.

“Well, that water’s not clean,” Harp said. The niferns had grown to a dozen, trapping them against the palace door. “I’m guessing fighting for the causeway is our best option.”

“What are they waiting for?” Boult asked.

“Probably just sizing us up,” Verran prattled nervously. “There’s a type of wolf that hunts like that. They’ll surround you and just watch. They won’t let you leave, but it’s like they want to see what you’ll do. I don’t know. Maybe they’re not really that smart. There’s also a kind of beast—” -

“It’s all right, Verran,” Harp said gently. “We’ll get through this. It might be a good time to try one of your spells.”

“I don’t think I can,” Verran said worriedly. “I feel something strange. It’s affecting my magic. If I do a spell, something awful might happen.”

“Or you might melt some of those doggies,” Boult said. “That spell you did on Bootman would be useful right now.”

“Or it might melt you,” Kitto reminded Boult.

“Fine, Master Thief,” Boult said. “You have a better plan?”

“No,” Kitto said honestly.

“Captain Harp?” Boult asked. “How about some orders?”

“Unfurl the sails?” Harp suggested. “Tack to starboard. Hold that wheel steady, boys.”

“You are so useless,” Boult growled. “Me and Harp in front. Kitto and Verran get behind us.”

Harp knew the maneuver that Boult was suggesting, but usually it was done with a larger number of soldiers. The ones in front would brace themselves behind the shields, while the ones in back used long weapons to stab the oncoming enemies. Following Boult’s orders, they grouped themselves into a defensive box to await the onslaught of the scaly dogs. Harp immediately noticed a flaw in the plan.

“Um, Boult?” he said, keeping an eye on the niferns still milling at the top of the causeway. “You do realize that we’re holding the dwarven equivalent of frying pans and steak knives.”

“Only if your hands are freakishly large.”

“It’s stupid,” Harp said, standing up. “The boys are more likely to stab me in the back of the head than anything.”

“What do you suggest?” Boult said.

“No time,” Kitto yelled as the animals rushed down the road in unison. Kitto sheathed his sword, pulled his crossbow off his shoulder, and loaded one of the small bolts.

“What the hell are you doing?” Harp asked, waving his dagger-sized blade at Kitto. “Get your sword out!”

But Kitto leaped onto one of the pillars, curled an arm around it, and momentarily braced his feet against the square base. He jumped from the pillar onto the back of one of the niferns. Firing the crossbow directly into the back of the creature’s skull, he killed it instantly. As the body of the nifern slumped on the ground, the rest of the hissing niferns surrounded them like a flood. Harp kicked one in the head, sending it reeling. Dazed briefly, the animal scurried back into the fray. As Boult stabbed one in the throat, another swung its tail and forced Boult to drop to the ground to avoid the stinger. Three niferns leaped onto his back, biting into him while Harp and Kitto rushed to pull Boult back to his feet.

“Verran, do something!” Harp called as he kicked another one in the jaw. Kitto sliced one across the back with his blade, but it rushed at him as if it didn’t notice the wound. Kitto nearly lost his balance as he scrambled backward, but Harp bent low and brought his sword up under the creature’s belly, slitting it open. He jumped back as the blood sloshed across the glass shards strewn across the ground.

“I can try, but it might just make them enormous and invulnerable,” Verran shouted.

“Try something!” Boult demanded.

Harp and the others flanked Verran to keep the niferns away from the boy as he pressed his palms to his forehead, chanting under his breath. The niferns formed a tight circle around them, ready to rip the men to shreds as soon as they ran out of fight. Verran dropped his hands, and a yellowish haze began rising from the ground.

“Verran!” Harp exclaimed, looking at the mist around his boots. “What is that?”

“I don’t know! It wasn’t what I was thinking about at all!”

The haze drifted across the ground and pooled around the niferns’ paws. As if the yellow clouds distracted them, the niferns stopped their assault and snapped at the wisps of

yellow air. When the haze reached the height of the niferns’ faces, the animals began to wheeze. One by one they dropped to the ground as their sides labored up and down with shallow breaths. They shuddered and were still.

“It’s poison,” Verran said. “Fast poison. That’s good!”

“Except it’s not,” Kitto said, pointing to the crest of the causeway where more niferns were stalking back and forth aggressively, safely out of range of the lowlying poisoned air.

“If we run, we’ll get eaten by the reinforcements,” Harp said.

“And if we stay, we’ll choke on our own vomit,” Boult said, looking down at the haze that had reached his thighs.

“Up the pillars,” Kitto urged, climbing up to the top of the square base while the others followed. It got them off the ground, but the haze was still rising quickly.

“I told you it could go bad,” Verran said.

“It could be worse,” Harp said.

“At least we’ll be unconscious when they eat our bodies,” Boult said.

“Harp! Do you hear something?” Kitto asked, twisting his body around to look at the front of the palace.

“What?” Harp asked.

“I hear mewling, like a kitten,” Harp said.

“I don’t hear anything,” Boult said. “Except the sound of my upcoming death.”

Harp jumped off the pillar and waded through the haze to the palace door.

“What are you doing?” Boult shouted.

“Liel!” Harp yelled. “Liel, where are you!”

“Harp, there’s no one there,” Boult said.

“Liel!” Harp shouted again. Above him on the balcony, a cat with cream-colored fur and dark brown spots had appeared on the top of the stone railing. “It’s Harp! And Kitto!”

The cat jumped off the railing and disappeared from sight. Kitto jumped down and hurried through the haze after Harp.

“Are they both insane?” Boult asked Verran.

But then a figure appeared on the balcony above them. When she leaned out over the railing to look down at the crewmates, her coppery hair glinted in the sunlight, and her face was familiar to them all.

“Liel!” Harp said joyfully.

“Throw me a rope!” she called.

Kitto reached in his backpack and pulled out a coil of rope. With one skillful toss, he threw the rope up to her waiting hand. Quickly, Liel looped one end around one of the pillars, knotted it tightly, and threw it back down. Verran and Boult left their pillar and waded through the haze that nearly reached Boult’s chin.

“Go!” Harp told Boult. The dwarf scaled the rope quickly and hauled himself over the railing on the balcony. Kitto scampered up the rope after Boult as easily as if he were climbing a shroud rope on a sunny summer’s day.

“Your turn,” Harp said, pushing Verran to the rope. Verran pressed his feet against the stones, leaned back until he was almost perpendicular to the ground, and walked up the front of the palace. Harp followed him, enjoying the newfound strength in his arms and clearness of his-hings. Clearly Majida had healed more than his skin. Harp pulled himself onto the balcony, dusted himself off, and grinned at Liel. When he’d seen her in the cavern by the river, he’d hesitated, not knowing what to do with himself, wanting to touch her but too unsure to reach out. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake again.

“Hey, you,” Harp said, putting his arms around her and looking down into her eyes.

“Hey, yourself,” she said, slipping her arms around his waist and tipping her head back to grin up at him.

“You still have a pointy little chin,” he said. “And pointy little ears.”

“And you still talk too much,” she told him. “Did I tell you I loved you?” he asked. “No, you never got around to it.” Harp shook his head ruefully. “My mistake.” And he kissed her.

3 Flamerule, the Year of the Ageless One

(1479 DR) Chult

‘oult cleared his throat. “I’m happy you kids are happy, but don’t we have things to do? People to see? Artifacts to steal… I mean, recover?”

Harp kissed Liel one last time before he reluctantly broke away. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“But you have,” Liel said. “Or rather, you changed back.”

“I hate to break up your reunion, but Verran’s haze of death is still rising,” Boult told them.

“Actually, it’s not,” Verran said defensively, looking over the railing at the dead niferns slumped on the ground. “It looks like it’s going away.”

“Liel, that is Verran,” Harp said. “You knew Kitto, of course.”

Liel embraced the boy. “Kitto, it’s been so long.”

“Good to see you, Liel,” Kitto mumbled shyly.

“And that is Boult, a friend of mine from Vankila.”

Boult and Liel shook hands. After spending time with the husk, Boult seemed a little disconcerted at meeting the real Liel, but Majida had vouched for the elf and that would be enough to convince Boult to trust her. Verran, however, wasn’t as understanding.