Twelve and the Frozen Forest, page 18
It was a conclusion Twelve couldn’t ignore. It shifted the axis of her world and stopped her in her tracks. And with it came fresh grief as memories she had drowned in dream milk resurfaced. She missed her family. She wanted to talk to them again, to tell them her fears, be comforted by them and offer comfort in return. She wanted to go back and be a better sister to Poppy – how different their relationship would be if she had another chance.
A cold weight settled in Twelve’s stomach. Pointless thoughts. There was no going back. No chance to apologise. Her family were gone forever, and nothing could change that.
And yet, something whispered, were they truly gone? She still carried the memory of them. Couldn’t she keep them alive in other ways? They’d taught her so much, shown her what goodness was. If there was any tribute worthy of them, wasn’t it that?
She could be a better person. For them. She would be.
Although the darkness around her was weighted with terror, Twelve felt suddenly lighter. The relief was indescribable: for the first time in years, she thought of her loved ones without shame or agony or despair. Her da who had believed in her, inspired her to be better. Her ma who had taught her to forgive, shown her the quieter type of strength it took. And Poppy. Poppy who had looked up to her, imitated her, infuriated her. Twelve thought of her family now with a burning desire to do right by them, and the simple certainty that she could.
She bit her lip and forced her thoughts into order. She was going to make everything right; it wasn’t too late. Somehow she had to help Six find his sister, even if it took years, even if he hated her now. But first she had to get out of here and discover what had happened to the lodge.
The memory of the green fire nagged at her. Were there goblins here again? It was impossible; the Hunters would have collapsed the tunnel by now and been on high alert for another attack. Still, something was clearly wrong. She had probably broken a hundred lodge rules in going after Seven, but a Hunter would never hit her over the head and drag her unconscious to a cell. They would take her to see Elder Silver. No, not Silver, Twelve reminded herself sharply, another flash of grief searing through her.
A distant sound stiffened her spine. Footsteps were approaching quickly and, with them, the glow of a torch. Twelve resisted the urge to slink to the back of the cell and instead pushed her face against the bars, straining to get a better view down the dark corridor.
‘Who’s there?’ she called, relieved that she sounded confident, imperious even. ‘Why am I locked up down here?’ Beneath the bars, she twisted her fingers into trembling fists.
‘Shh,’ someone hissed back. ‘Do you want them to hear you?’ The voice was familiar.
‘Victory?’ Twelve asked, her heart leaping as a figure appeared. ‘Is that you? What’s going on?’
The weaponsmaster’s face appeared outside Twelve’s cell, the torch casting deep shadows under her eyes. She looked awful: pale and dishevelled. A far cry from the perfectly controlled Hunter Twelve was used to seeing.
‘They’ve taken the lodge,’ Victory said, without preamble.
‘What?’ Twelve gasped. ‘Who?’
Victory went on as though she hadn’t heard. ‘There must have been more tunnels. A lot more. I managed to get down here and lose them in the passages, but we won’t be—’
‘Victory!’ Twelve gasped, pushing her hand between the bars to grab the Hunter’s shoulder. ‘Who? Who attacked the lodge?’
‘Goblins,’ the weaponsmaster whispered. ‘Lots of them.’
Goblins. Shock sealed Twelve’s lips. So Oakhammer had kept his promise after all. He had sent them to the goblin stronghold. It just hadn’t been where they expected.
Victory’s eyes were wild, but they calmed as they settled on Twelve’s face. ‘You were right,’ she said. ‘Hoarfrost was a fool not to heed what you saw down here. We’ve got to fetch help. I have a plan, but I heard them bring you down here and knew I had to get you out.’
Twelve’s heart leaped as Victory refocused her attention on the lock.
‘Did … did you see Widge when they brought me down?’ she asked, half afraid of the answer.
‘Who?’ Victory asked.
‘My squirrel.’
‘Ah, I’m afraid not.’ Victory didn’t look up, her brow furrowed as she worked.
Twelve nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. Widge would be safe somewhere and she’d find him. The alternative was unthinkable.
A moment later, the lock clicked and the door swung open. To Twelve’s amazement, Victory pulled her into a short, fierce hug. ‘Can you walk?’
Twelve’s vision was swimming, but she took a couple of tentative steps and nodded. ‘I’ve felt better, but I’ll keep up.’
Victory’s face broke into a rare smile. ‘You’re a fighter. Come on!’ Taking her arm, the Hunter pulled her through passage after passage until suddenly they were at the foot of the spiralling stairs. Without hesitating, Victory began to climb, dragging Twelve after her.
The weaponsmaster was brave, but this seemed mad, even by her standards.
‘What are we doing?’ Twelve whispered. ‘We can’t just pop up in the training ground.’
‘Why not?’ Victory said grimly, continuing to climb. ‘It’s the last thing they’d expect. We’ll have the gate open before they even know what’s happening.’
‘But we don’t have any weapons!’ Twelve hissed, pulling back against the Hunter’s insistent tugging.
‘Leave that to me,’ Victory said, glancing back at her. ‘Where are the others? Where’s the Guardian?’
Twelve barely heard the question as she stared at the weaponsmaster’s back. This wasn’t like Victory: she was usually calm to the point of icy, totally in control. The shock of the attack must have affected her judgement. Twelve dug her heels in and pulled Victory round to face her, nearly sending them both careering back down the stairs.
‘We can’t just stroll into the training ground without weapons,’ she said, trying to keep her voice level. ‘If there are goblins up there, we’ll be dead before we’ve taken three steps. You said they came through more tunnels – let’s find those instead. If we get out, we can buy more time, plan a counterattack. What about the original tunnel, the one the first attack came through? Is that still open? I know how to find it if so.’
Victory shook her head and resumed her climb. ‘I told you, I have a plan. You’ll have to trust me.’
Twelve nodded. Of course she trusted Victory … but at the same time every bone in her body was crying out that this was a terrible mistake.
‘You never answered my question,’ Victory reminded her. ‘Where are the others?’
‘I left them,’ Twelve puffed, the exertion making her head swim. ‘Six and I, we had a … we … we fell out.’
‘What about the Guardian?’ Victory’s back was still to her, but there was a new stiffness in her shoulders. ‘Was he with you? Where did you last see him?’ The questions came quickly, the Hunter’s voice eager. They were nearly at the top of the stairs. The door was open a crack and Twelve could see more torchlight gleaming through, shapes moving in the training ground beyond. Panic filled her.
‘Victory, please—’
‘Just tell me,’ Victory snapped, whirling to face Twelve as they crested the last step. Her face in the torchlight was a twisted mask of fury. ‘Tell me where that infernal Guardian is right now!’
Twelve stared at the Hunter, pain dulling her thoughts.
The door was tugged open and a small figure stood silhouetted against the light in the training ground. A ball of green fire flared in his hand, illuminating cruel features and gleaming armour. When he spoke, his voice was low, rasping and strangely familiar. This was the goblin mage from the earlier attack on the lodge, Twelve was sure of it.
‘I thought I told you to leave the interrogation to us, Victory,’ he said. ‘It’s our speciality after all.’ His grin revealed teeth filed to a point.
Twelve cried out, expecting the weaponsmaster to lunge for the goblin’s weapon, try to push him down the stairs, anything, in short, other than what she actually did.
‘Morgren,’ Victory sighed, laying a hand on his shoulder. ‘I had to try. Simply asking is much quicker and much less messy.’
‘Hasn’t worked though, has it?’ Morgren’s eyes fixed on Twelve and his grin widened. ‘Besides, I like messy.’
Twelve stared between Victory and Morgren, struggling to make sense of it. The weaponsmaster’s wild, dishevelled appearance had vanished. She stood straight and tall, a little more bedraggled than usual perhaps, but otherwise her normal self. She didn’t seem the least bit surprised to find a goblin mage standing in front of her – if anything, she seemed pleased to see him.
Victory turned back to Twelve and took her by the arm, pulling her forward into the training ground. Twelve’s bewilderment only increased. The sky was dark above them, the lodge both familiar and strange. Torches burned with green flames, the sickly light distorting the shadows of hundreds of scurrying goblins. To one side of the octagonal space was a gaping hole, another tunnel entrance. Small figures crisscrossed the training ground from it, ferrying crates from its depths to the council house.
‘What have you done?’ Twelve cried, struggling against Victory’s grip. ‘Where are the other Hunters?’
In an instant, the weaponsmaster twisted Twelve’s arm behind her back, making her gasp with pain as Dog’s bite reopened.
‘Don’t fight me, Twelve,’ Victory whispered. ‘This can be easy for you or very, very difficult.’ Her grip tightened. ‘I have to say, I’m a little disappointed. How many times do I have to say it? Constant vigilance. I shouldn’t have been able to surprise you like that.’
Twelve tried to wrench herself away and Victory twisted her arm even harder. This didn’t make any sense. Victory was part of the lodge, central to it. She and Silver were … The thought of Silver brought Twelve up short. Suddenly she was back in the training ground during the Grim attack, watching Silver and Victory fight the creature side by side, perfectly in sync … until Victory tripped, accidentally throwing Silver off balance.
Had it been an accident though?
Twelve couldn’t breathe. Her chest felt impossibly tight. ‘Silver,’ she gasped, ‘did … did you …’
Victory’s grip loosened a little. ‘Silver was very dear to me for a long time,’ the Hunter sighed, then her voice hardened. ‘But she was getting soft in her old age and I outgrew her. She would never have accepted this new era of the Hunting Lodge. I saw an opportunity and I took it. She died as she would have wanted, her swords in her hands.’
A strange numbness had fallen over Twelve, but Victory’s words burned through that. Anger flooded her, red-hot and as bitter as ash. ‘Died as she would have wanted?’ Twelve spat. ‘Betrayed by her closest friend?’
‘Well,’ Victory allowed, ‘maybe not exactly as she would have wanted.’
Twelve redoubled her efforts, kicking out at the weaponsmaster, ignoring the pain as she tried to pull her arm free. A spine-tingling sound brought her up short. Morgren was watching them both and he was laughing. As he doubled over with mirth, his handful of green fire blazed all the brighter. His rasping chuckles resounded round the training ground and other goblins began to join in. They sounded just like crows.
‘Oh, Victory,’ he gasped. ‘This is the one you spoke about? Are you sure?’
‘Very,’ Victory said grimly, her grip tightening until Twelve cried out.
Morgren wiped tears from his eyes and straightened up, his expression serious again. Twelve swallowed down her fear as he stepped forward, examining her. Up close, she could see his eyes were violet and his hair long and dark, tied back in a ponytail. He was taller than the other goblins by a head and much better dressed, a long fur cloak trailing from his shoulders.
‘And yet she didn’t tell you anything,’ he murmured, his eyes flicking to Victory. ‘Not very cooperative. Although I’m sure I can … loosen her tongue. We need to know where that Guardian is – he could ruin all our plans.’
The smile that spread over his face sent chills down Twelve’s spine. She forced her face to stay blank and jutted her chin at him. Appearing frightened, she thought, would be fatal.
‘Ah, she has spirit though,’ he grinned. ‘I admire that.’ His eyes met Twelve’s and his smile became wolfish. ‘I do hope you aren’t planning on cooperating too quickly, huntling. It’s been so long since my last interrogation.’
Twelve squeezed her hands into fists to stop them from shaking as he reached inside his cloak and drew out a blade. It was short and squat, an ugly thing, but the edge caught the ghastly green light and gleamed, its sharpness beyond doubt.
‘This is a family heirloom,’ Morgren told her, his fingers caressing the hilt. ‘It’s called Skin and it has flayed some of the greatest names in history. It almost seems a shame to use it on someone as insignificant as you, but …’ He shrugged carelessly and touched the icy blade to her cheek. Twelve’s breath caught at the touch of the metal. ‘No point in me sharpening it if I don’t use it,’ he whispered. His eyes blazed with a sickening excitement.
‘Stop it, Morgren,’ Victory tutted, jerking Twelve backwards and away from the blade. ‘I’ll get the answers we need. In the meantime, remember she wasn’t alone. We should collapse the tunnels to be on the safe side.’
‘As soon as we’ve emptied them,’ he growled, glaring at the scurrying goblins behind him.
‘No, now,’ Victory said firmly. ‘The Guardian is probably nearby. If he regains entry, all of this was for nothing.’
‘“Probably nearby” is not good enough for such drastic measures,’ Morgren said. He pointed his blade at Twelve’s eye. ‘She knows for sure where he is. Let me take over the questioning.’
‘No,’ Victory said evenly. ‘I’d like to keep her in one piece if at all possible.’
Morgren smirked and inclined his head, then raised his voice to a shout. ‘Where is the Croke?’
A breathless goblin appeared by his side instantly. ‘Expected any moment, my lord,’ he gasped.
‘Good,’ Morgren said. ‘See what you can do, Victory. The Croke can take over when it arrives.’
Victory made a noncommittal sound and shoved Twelve towards the council house.
‘No!’ Twelve yelled, fighting in earnest now, wishing more than anything that she had her axes. ‘You traitor, how could you? What have you done with the other Hunters?’
Victory’s fist connected solidly with her temple, making Twelve see stars. Her knees buckled. She felt Victory drag her up the steps and into the Great Hall.
By the time she could see properly again, she was tied to a chair in the middle of the cavernous room. All round the walls, goblins were stacking crates. A rough wooden scaffold had been thrown up and, high above her, more goblins were prising the moonstones from the ceiling with wicked-looking blades. Green-flame torches gave the scene an underwater, otherworldly quality.
Twelve drew a shuddering breath and stared at the weaponsmaster sitting in front of her. Victory looked perfectly calm and composed in the midst of the devastation she had wrought.
‘I trusted you,’ Twelve whispered, shock hammering through her. ‘I looked up to you. I … I wanted to be like you.’ The thought made her sick now.
Victory smiled. ‘That’s because we’re the same, Twelve,’ she said gently.
Twelve shook her head so hard it throbbed in protest. ‘Where are the other Hunters? The other huntlings? What have you done to them?’
Victory narrowed her eyes. ‘You mean the Hunters who did nothing but complain about you? Failed to see your potential? The huntlings who despised you?’
Twelve’s mouth felt like it was filled with sand. She didn’t trust herself to speak.
Victory’s lips pressed into a thin line. ‘I didn’t kill them, if that’s what you mean. Not yet anyway. The Croke will tell us which will bend to our cause. Those that won’t will be … disposed of.’ A smile ghosted across her lips. ‘A thousand years of history, hundreds of attacks repelled, and the lodge finally falls. To me.’ The smile spread into a grin that didn’t reach the Hunter’s eyes. ‘So much attention focused outwards, but none inwards. In the end, it was easier than some of the hunts I’ve been on.’
‘What did you do?’ Twelve asked again, her voice shaking. The ropes were tight round her wrists and ankles. She was losing feeling in her fingers and she wriggled them desperately.
‘I drugged the water.’ Victory shrugged. ‘Can you believe something so simple would be their downfall? That the great and powerful Hunters are all locked up, awaiting their fate, simply because they quenched their thirst?’ This time the smile did reach her eyes.
‘But why?’ Twelve whispered.
Victory’s face remained impassive. ‘An opportunity arose and I took it,’ she said. ‘In the lodge, we are slaves to that ridiculous Pledge; it shackles our every move. I’ve shaken off those ties with the help of Morgren. Now, finally, my skills will earn me the respect I deserve.’
‘You had respect,’ Twelve said, loathing rising in her. ‘You’ll be despised for this.’ Her eyes swept over the mutilated council house, desperation growing in her. How was she going to get out of this? The ropes cut into her wrists, brutally tight. Victory clearly wasn’t taking any chances with her. If Widge had been there, he would have gnawed through her bonds. She feared for him so intensely that it made her feel shaky.
‘You’re thinking too small, Twelve,’ Victory sighed, folding her arms and leaning back in her chair. ‘This is only the beginning. The plans we have …’ Her eyes scoured Twelve. ‘No. First, tell me where the Guardian is.’
Twelve’s mind whirled. She pushed away thoughts of Widge and forced herself to concentrate. ‘The drug wouldn’t have worked on Dog,’ she said slowly. ‘And even a hundred goblins couldn’t get past him.’
Victory nodded, almost seeming to approve. ‘You’ve always been a bright one. Go on.’
‘You had to find a way to get him out of the lodge.’ She paused as the enormity of it sank in. ‘But that would mean the Grim attack, the kidnapping of Seven, it was all just …’
