Wizard's Masquerade, page 35
A shout pierced the air, and a large, furry mass broke out of the left side of the tree line below and leapt into the gully. The dry riverbed was rocky, but the wolf crossed the terrain with ease, and she only got a glimpse of its broad head, muscled limbs and brush-shaped tail before it leapt out of the gully and disappeared into the treeline beyond.
Leyna was already halfway down the smooth gully when Seth appeared at the left side of the treeline from which Quinn had emerged.
“Seth, stop!” she yelled. “Stop where you are!”
Seth’s mountain pony skidded to a halt near the edge of the gully, dry pebbles scattering over the side.
Budsworth climbed out of the gully at a shallower aspect and loped towards the prince, who looked as though he was still considering pursuing Quinn.
“The gully is too rocky for your horse,” she puffed, drawing up beside him.
“It’s a mountain pony,” Seth said. “It can cross the gully just fine.” But he didn’t move. “Was that really Quinn?”
“It was definitely him.”
“Should we go after him?”
Leyna shook her head. “I don’t know what he’s doing here, but it’s clear he doesn’t want us to follow.” She stared at the place where he’d disappeared into the trees. Was he still there, watching? Or was he long gone?
A chill ran along her back as she wiped the sweat from her brow. “Come on,” she muttered, taking Seth’s reins and gently guiding his horse around to walk beside hers. “We need to get back.”
“What about the guards?”
“We’ll go back towards the castle and hopefully meet them on the way.”
As much as she wanted to rejoin the unit, the important thing was getting Seth back to the castle quickly and safely. The terrain here was dense with trees, but it was flat and bore a trail leading in the castle’s direction. It was in fair condition, with room for them to ride side-by-side.
They rode back slowly, which helped her heart rate calm down. The pretty song of a bird warbled through the trees.
“Do you reckon it’s much further?” asked Seth for the third time.
“We’re nearly there,” she responded. “Try to enjoy the ride.”
“I’m thirsty.” He had drained his water flask, and because she’d joined the trip at the last minute, she hadn’t packed one at all.
“I know, but don’t worry, we’re nearly ther—”
Crack.
She tensed, snapping her head in the noise’s direction. The woods revealed nothing unusual.
And then she heard a snort. A low grunt. Then silence. Had she imagined it?
Crack.
Wild pigs? Wolves? Quinn?
All was quiet and still. The songbird had stopped.
Except for the sound of the horses’ hooves, it was quiet. The large beech trees cast shadows across the ground, and the leaves were still. Bright sun filtered through the chinks in the leafy canopy, and dust particles danced happily in the rays of light, at complete odds with the drumming of her heart.
If the leaves were still, why could she hear rustling?
“We should go back to the waterfalls and drink,” Seth was saying.
“The waterfalls are further away than you think,” she muttered distractedly, still peering at the woods. Was that a shadow?
Crack.
“Or we can find a river. My throat is parched—”
“Seth, quiet,” she hissed, turning to face him. That was when she spotted the pale, muscled shape behind Seth, its form lost in the shadows of foliage. Her heart stopped.
Was that…?
She blinked. It was gone. If it had been there at all. She raised her casting hand.
“What is it?” Seth whispered.
She shook her head. “We’re not alone. We need to leave. Now. There’s something out there.”
Seth whipped his head around, staring at the woods. “Are you sure you heard something?” he asked, his voice high-pitched. “It could have been a deer.”
Crack-crack.
That time, he heard it too, and they both flinched at the noise.
A low growl ripped through the silence, coming from behind them.
“Run!” She gasped.
Seth bolted as she yelled an incantation, digging deep to draw on a large burst of energy—more than she would ordinarily use—and blasted a pressure spell into the trees and brush. The near-invisible shockwave pulsed forward. The unrestrained power tore bark off trees and caused foliage to whip around. Leaves and dust swirled, and Leyna glimpsed the ugly beasts as the spell’s force threw them back against the ground and slammed them into tree trunks with loud thunks.
Demon hounds. Dog-sized and four-legged, with flat faces, wide, sharp-toothed smiles and wild, human-like eyes. A whole pack of them. They snarled as they clambered back onto their stumpy, muscled legs, but she and Budsworth were already off, charging down the trail after Seth.
The hounds were fast, the ominous thumping of their short, fast feet infinitely more terrifying than their bloodcurdling growls.
“Faster, girl,” she urged Budsworth, ignoring the protests of her own leg as she tried to stay balanced on the mare. It wasn’t long before she’d caught up to Seth. She suspected he was growing tired, making the pony’s job more difficult.
“Come on, Seth!” she urged. “Follow me!”
Budsworth pulled ahead just as the path narrowed again.
Please let this be the right way. No obstacles. No gullies. Just give us flat plains and solid ground. Take us to the castle.
The growls grew louder and harsher, mixed with the sound of thrashing undergrowth as the demons cut corners and took shortcuts through dense woodland.
The trees thinned.
Seth was right at her heels, but the demons were closing in fast.
She didn’t dare cast another spell, not unless she absolutely had to—the rocky motion made the risk of tripping over her words too high, and the last thing they needed was a Renegade.
“They’re getting closer!” cried Seth.
“We’re nearly there. Keep pushing!” She was crouched in an aggressive stance above Budsworth, whose powerful hooves pounded the earth. The opening was up ahead, revealing the grassy foothills and the castle beyond.
The trail ended, and they burst out onto golden planes.
“Don’t stop!” she cried as they tore across the hillside.
“What are you going to do?”
“Just don’t stop! Ride straight to the castle!”
To her far left, riders approached bearing spear-mounted banner flags—it was their unit, led by Grace.
“Riders, to me!” Leyna yelled, hoping her voice carried across the distance.
The demons were still pursuing her and Seth, their fat tongues lolling in the air, but the guards were close.
“Keep going, Seth!” she yelled, hoping he would listen. Halfway to the castle, she brought Budsworth to a sharp halt, her cloak billowing as she spun them around, her casting arm stretched out before her.
A second pressure spell erupted from her hand, larger than the one she’d used before.
The force of it sent the demons flying back, tumbling and spinning as carelessly as if they were pins knocked over by a bowler.
It was alarming how quickly the demons were back on their feet, but the spell had bought precious time.
The unit reached her. Swords were drawn, and Grace dispatched two guards to follow and protect Seth, before raising her casting hand.
She spun back to face the demons, but it was too late.
One hound had pounced and was flying at her face. There was no time to react, to duck, to even register that she should shut her eyes.
A pink slice of light flew up in front of Leyna, cast by Grace. The demon collided against it with a thunk, bouncing off and landing at their feet.
A nearby guard was not so lucky—a demon hit his chest, sending him flying off his horse and slamming him back against the ground. The nearby guards raised their weapons, but the demon had found the guard’s neck. By the time they plunged a spear into its body, the guard was already dead.
The speared demon continued to fight, even after two of its legs had been severed, and it wasn’t until a sword had plunged through its maw that it went still.
There was no time to process the gruesome scene—seven hounds remained.
Fry entered the fight, and in that moment, Leyna gained a newfound appreciation for the professor as she conjured a gigantic pink shield, this one wide enough to create a barrier between the guards and the demons. But Fry was not done. Rather than leave the pink wall upright as Leyna expected her to, she tilted the entire shield forward, angling the far edge down onto the creatures.
She’s crushing them, Leyna realised.
Most of the demons scrambled out from underneath the crackling shield as it lowered, but one demon was not so lucky, and as Fry continued to push the shield against the ground, it became trapped. Fry made a sharp, pushing movement with her hand, and the shield crushed down onto the demon, creating a crackling, squelching crunch that Leyna hoped to never hear again.
As the other demons rounded the corner, she threw scorching fireballs at them—one, two, three, four, each hitting its target with a satisfying whoomph.
The scorching fire seemed to have little effect beyond pushing the demons back, and to her dismay, it set the field alight. She changed tack, casting a new spell that ripped at the tall grass around her, the yellow stalks shooting into the air and rapidly weaving together into a cord of thick, grassy rope. It had only taken seconds, but two demons were already charging towards her. She completed the spell, the long, grassy cord bursting alight with a shimmering green flame, and with a swipe of a hand, she sent it at the demons.
The fiery green rope sliced through the air and wrapped around the demons, encircling the neck of one tightly so its eyes bulged, and catching the other by the foot, tripping it so its heavy body stumbled and fell forward, somersaulting towards her with a yelp. She leapt aside just in time as it rolled past. Suddenly, the demon jerked to a halt as the slack cord went taut, the other end snapping its companion’s neck.
Cries filled the air, spells blazed, and swords flashed as the fighting continued. They were winning.
Two more guards fell, but by that time, the demons had fallen. Fry saw to stabilising the men’s wounds, and Grace was casting streams of water to soak the burning grass.
Leyna was glad that Seth had returned to the castle and hadn't witnessed the horror unfold. Most of the guards would not have seen a demon before, and the battle left them dazed and shaking. One guard, who appeared uninjured, fell to his knees and sobbed, whilst another retched. The others finished dispatching the demons that were disabled but still alive. They snarled menacingly until their last breath.
That was the most frightening thing of all—the realisation that the demons did not stop. They had no sense of self-preservation. Even when the odds were against them, where any human or animal would have fled, they continued to fight. They were fast and strong, but it was their unrelenting nature that, above all else, made them a frightening enemy.
A bead of sweat tickled her eyebrow and she swiped at it, squinting against the bright sun as she scanned the landscape one last time. That was when she spotted Quinn, returned to his human form and lying on his side in the tall grass.
“Quinn!” she cried, running over. His shirt was torn, and his face, arms and torso were covered in black and blue bruises that did not look recent. “Quinn, what happened?”
“Leyna,” he murmured, opening one eye. The other was red and swollen, with the brow above it split and bleeding.
She helped him sit up, frowning when she noticed his hands were bound.
Crouched down and supporting his back, she rounded on the rest of the party, her voice low and dangerous as she demanded: “Why is he tied up?”
No one answered. Grace hovered nearby, her eyes puffy as if she’d been crying.
Leyna stood, using her leg to help keep Quinn upright.
“I said, why is he tied up? Answer me!”
Fry strode forward and cleared her throat, but allowed the seconds to stretch out to ensure she had everyone’s attention before answering. “Why, he’s under arrest, of course!”
“Nonsense,” Leyna growled. “There must be a mistake. Release him.” She gestured at the nearby guards to untie Quinn, but they only exchanged uncertain looks.
“You don’t have the authority,” Fry smirked, plucking at a tall blade of grass and twisting it between her fingers.
Leyna squared her shoulders. “Yes, I do. I’m a huskarl of the Royal Guard and your superior.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” said Fry, clasping her hands. “I’m sure we could split hairs all day long! But I think it’s best that we let the lord regent decide, don’t you?”
“Believe me, the lord regent won’t take kindly to us returning with his son tied up like a prisoner.”
“Oh, I think he will be very understanding, given the circumstances.”
“What circumstances?” she asked, swatting at a fly that was almost as annoying as the woman before her.
“Poor Leyna, a little out of the loop, aren’t we?” Fry sighed and batted her eyelashes, which made her look stunningly beautiful, cruel, and ugly, all at the same time.
“What are you talking about?”
“Quinn deserves to be tied up like a prisoner. He’s a traitor.” Fry clicked her fingers at Firmin, who approached obediently, his beady eyes glowering wherever they roamed.
“I’ve been getting to know our dear surviving hero, Firmin, a little bit better,” the professor purred. “It turns out there’s a lot more to his original testimony than the Royal Council saw fit to make public knowledge!”
“Like what?” Leyna asked coolly.
“Oh, I really shouldn’t say,” said Fry. “Not if it’s confidential. Although, I’ll admit, I had hoped the steward would be a little more transparent with the public instead of hiding information to protect his own reputation!”
“Quit playing,” Leyna snapped. “Just spit it out. What is it that Quinn’s supposedly done?”
It was Grace who answered, looking so distraught that Leyna wanted to run over and hug her. “Firmin says that Quinn was involved in the Court Massacre, that he attacked the court.”
Leyna jerked her head back. “No.”
“He’s a traitor,” spat Firmin. “He killed the Queen.”
“Rubbish,” she said, dividing her glare between Fry and Firmin. She could feel her control of the situation slipping away, as if Fry was prying it out from between her fingers. “That can’t be true.”
“Oh?” simpered Fry. “Why not ask him?” She pointed at Quinn, who was swaying on his knees.
Leyna glanced at Grace, hoping she would come to Quinn’s defence, but she only gave a sad shrug.
Confused, Leyna knelt down beside Quinn, swiping away the matted hair from his forehead. “Quinn, what’s going on? Is what they’re saying true? Were you involved with the attack on the court? Did you…” she swallowed. “Did you kill Queen Claire?”
Quinn’s lip trembled as he tried to speak, but his voice was hoarse.
“Water,” she ordered, and helped him drink from a flask. “Quinn, is any of it true?”
Quinn gave what looked like a small nod at the ground.
No. It couldn’t have been a nod. Gently but firmly, she tilted his chin up. His dark eyes penetrated hers. She swallowed. “Is it true you’re a traitor?”
He lowered his eyes. “It’s true.”
Leyna’s hand slowly withdrew, and Quinn’s head dropped again—whether from weakness, shame, or simply defeat, she could not tell.
“See? There you have it!” Fry strode forward triumphantly, but Leyna leapt to her feet and raised her casting arm.
“Stay back.” For the first time, she realised she was nearly a head taller than the female wizard. It had never been obvious before now, and she might never have taken much note were it not for the loathing she felt for Fry in that moment. As it was, she drew herself up to her full height.
The false smile on Fry’s face wavered, then returned. “Out of my way, sweetheart. It’s off to the dungeon with this one!”
Fry gestured to Firmin, who pulled Quinn upright into a standing position with one hand, then pushed his head forward roughly with the other before leading him towards the castle.
“Grace,” said Leyna, moving to her friend and taking her by the shoulders. “Grace, say something. You’re in charge of this unit.”
Grace shook her head helplessly. “I don’t know what to say. Quinn says he did it.”
Leyna lowered her head so her forehead touched Grace’s. “We’ll figure this out,” she said. “There has to be a mistake.”
A soft mewing reached her ears.
“What was that?”
The sad cry came again. It sounded like—
“Floofy!” she cried, whipping her head around while patting her shoulder where he’d been during the ride. He was gone.
The mewing sounded again from the direction of the boulders.
“No, no, no,” she moaned, stumbling through the grass as the pitiful cry sounded again. He was calling for her. “Floofy!”
He was trapped inside a deep crevice between two boulders, his large brown eyes watery, peering at her as he mewed more insistently.
“It’s alright,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm as her shaky hand slid into the crevice. The rocky surface dragged her sleeve back, abrading her skin as she tried to reach him, her fingers outstretched. But the crevice was too narrow.
“Is he alright?” asked Grace, kneeling beside her.
“He’s stuck. I think he tried to hide. I…I think he’s in pain.”
“Here, let me. Stand aside.”
Leyna sat back, overcome with emotion, as she watched Grace try to levitate Floofy out of the crevice. Several times, she failed, and Floofy squealed in either pain or fear.
“What’s happening?” asked Leyna, trying to see inside the crevice.
