Fable: Blood of Heroes (21 page)

“Understood.” Sterling picked up a caltrop and handed it to Shroud. Most of their things were probably near the redcap’s hiding spot. Blue hadn’t been carrying Arbiter when he fled. “Did he truly expect to beat the three of us with nothing more than rocks?”

“He’s a redcap,” said Winter, as if that explained everything.

Sterling picked up one of the broken pieces of the skull the redcap had thrown at him. Offering to trade an enchanted doll for a bit of old bone? Yet another thing that only made sense if you had nails in your—

He frowned and turned the skull towards the dying flames of Shroud’s bomb. There were letters scratched into the bone.

“What is it?” asked Shroud.

“I’m not sure.” Sterling knelt, searching for other fragments.

“We can’t stay here,” Winter said wearily. “There will be more stragglers, and Yog may have seen that firepot go off.”

Sterling picked up another shard of bone. “We were unable to save Grayrock, but we
will
protect Brightlodge. The closest Yog will come to feasting on Heroes is when she tastes my steel.”

“You mean that steel?” Shroud smirked and pointed to the top of the pine tree where Sterling’s sword hung like a broken branch.

With a sigh, Sterling dropped the skull pieces into a pocket and began climbing … 

Y
og ran her heavily scarred tongue over her teeth. The scars had dulled her sense of taste, and there were times she longed to be able to enjoy a bowl of beet-and-onion soup the way she had in the distant haze of her youth, but such was the cost of survival and old age.

Skye, Headstrong, and Blue stood silently in front of the hut, waiting for her orders. Yog took another bite from her crust of dry acorn bread. She chewed slowly and deliberately, wanting to prolong their discomfort.

The ogre had lost another noggin. That was Schemer and Watcher both gone, each taking a portion of Headstrong’s knowledge and skill with them. Of the remaining five, Night Axe was the most valuable. Each loss diminished Headstrong’s usefulness … though Yog wouldn’t mind seeing Big Mouth dead at the bottom of the lake.

Skye appeared shaken by her battle with the human girl at the gate and her narrow escape from the flood. She had been nibbling at her fingers, chewing the dark, flaky skin until threads of smoke rose from her hands.

And then there was Blue, rocking on his heels and examining a scab he had picked from his scalp. When he saw Yog watching him, he hastily flicked the scab onto Headstrong and giggled softly.

“Do I ask too much of you?” Yog wiped the remaining crumbs on her apron. Her stomach gurgled at the memory of the last time she had tasted the untainted power of a Hero. To Skye, she said, “I rescued you from the blaze that consumed your forest. I gave you the power to heal your burns, to take the flames into yourself and turn them against your enemies. Headstrong, I gave strength beyond that of any ogre. You could rule as queen over your people. And Blue, thanks to me, your mind is sharper than any redcap’s.”

Blue pulled his finger from his ear and examined a small lump of wax, seemingly oblivious to Yog’s words. Yog sighed and gestured to Headstrong, who kicked Blue in the back of the head hard enough to send him sprawling.

“I gave you my redcaps,” Yog continued. “I turned the town of Grayrock against itself, and still you failed to bring my husband to me.”

“How were we t’know they’d flood the town?” That was Scratcher, the noggin Headstrong kept tied to the end of a stick.

“Shut up,” Thinker whispered frantically.

Yog summoned one of the skulls from her fence. It flew past her and into a tight orbit around Headstrong. Skye and Blue backed away. Headstrong spun like a cat chasing her own tail. Yog brought the skull to a halt directly in front of the impudent noggin, allowing Scratcher to recognise it as having once belonged to an ogre. Headstrong swallowed and stuffed the poor noggin into her armpit, muffling any further commentary.

“Not only did you lose Kas, you failed to capture a single Hero. Just one, and I would have the strength to assault Brightlodge directly. Instead, I stand here having exhausted my supply of redcap blood, without the strength to create another magestorm for at least a week. I am revealed, and unprepared to fight the Heroes of Brightlodge. What will you do to atone for your failure?”

Headstrong raised a pair of enormous axes. “I’ll cut them down and serve the muscle-bound warrior to you on her own shield,” she snarled.

“I will burn them all,” whispered Skye.

Blue nodded eagerly. “I’ll hit them with rocks.” He looked from Yog to his fellow Riders, and his shoulders sank. “Lots of rocks?”

“All in its proper time,” said Yog. “Blue, step closer. Your role is key in what is to come.”

Blue stuck out his tongue at the other Riders.

“There is a large band of redcaps who have retreated into the caves in the Needles, to the west. You are going to lead me to them. Headstrong, you will accompany us.”

“Redcaps again?” Skye looked pained. “Their warriors are little better than children.”

“No warriors. Just their blood and their bones.” Yog smiled. The loss of Kas and the Heroes was a setback, but after so many centuries, Yog’s curse was lifted at last. “As for you, Skye, I have another task in mind …”

CHAPTER 17

ROOK

T
he inhabitants of Brightlodge welcomed the Grayrock refugees in their traditional fashion: by hiking prices and milking the newcomers for every last coin.

A sign at the pub advertised a hearty lamb-and-potato stew,
JUST
THE
THING
FOR
THE
WEARY
TRAVELLER
, for only three times the usual price. Signs in front of half the homes in town proclaimed rooms for rent, though more often than not, those rooms turned out to be nothing but a hastily cleared closet or a cot shoved into the attic with the rats and cobwebs.

The meeting room in Wendleglass Hall was as full as Rook had ever seen it. Both kings were here—the living and the ex-living—along with all of the Heroes who had come to Brightlodge in recent months. The eight of them who’d been chasing after Yog and her minions sat closest to Young King Wendleglass.

The team from Grayrock didn’t look all that Heroic at the moment. They were tired and filthy, with shadows under their eyes and dirt staining their clothes. Winter was on her third mug of tea and looked like she wanted nothing more than to rest her head on the table and sleep for a week. Glory slashed a plate of roast pork so viciously, Rook expected the plate to crack. As for Shroud, who knew what was going on with him, hidden away in the shadows of his cloak and hood?

“Winter’s actions saved most of Grayrock’s people,” Sterling was saying. “She drowned Yog’s redcaps and bought us much-needed time.”

“Bought it by destroying the town you were supposed to be saving.” That was Malice, one of Wendleglass’s odder recruits. There was no physical body beneath the heavy armour and horned helm, but that didn’t stop the cursed ex-villain from gleefully slaughtering every outlaw and monster he could find.

Glory set down her silverware. “You think you could do better, Malice?”

“It’d be hard to do worse.” Malice’s words conveyed his sneer.

“And yet I have complete confidence that you’d find a way,” Glory said sweetly.

“How much time?” the young king asked. “How long before … before Yog and her Riders attack Brightlodge?”

“Not long.” Kas was the strangest of the refugees, a doll of living stone who claimed to be Yog’s former husband. He wore a blue linen napkin as a makeshift cloak. “From the moment Grayrock fell, she turned her efforts to hunting Brightlodge’s Heroes. As soon as her forces are strong enough, she will come for you.”

“And Grayrock’s fate will be Brightlodge’s.” That was the
former
king. The man was much more depressing since his death. “Doom comes for us all!”

“Nonsense,” said Rook. “I’ve been through bad times before. Life goes on.” He took a drink, then added, “For the survivors, at least.”

He looked about. Jeremiah Tipple was whispering to Evienne, a slender, energetic lass with a sword nearly as big as she was. Leech had barely eaten his quail, preferring instead to pick at it with knife and fork, dissecting his meal and losing himself in his work. Inga was listening intently and looked ready to go running out of Wendleglass Hall to bring Yog down once and for all.

“Enough talk.” Inga pounded the table. “There’s nothing left to discuss. We protect Brightlodge, and we put an end to Yog.”

“Yes, we’ve established that,” Glory said without looking up. “The question is how to defend the town without destroying it in the process.”

“Yog doesn’t care about Brightlodge,” said Sterling. “She wants us.”

“She wants to
eat
us,” said Tipple. “Don’t forget that part.”

“Some of you, yes.” Kas paced along the centre of the table. “But you mustn’t forget the potion she’s been working on. You told me of its effects on Mr. Tipple. Given this potential feast of Heroes, I imagine she’ll consume the most powerful while transforming the rest. Three will become her Riders, and the others her greencap slaves. You’ve seen what she did with an army of redcaps. Imagine her strength when the Heroes of Brightlodge fall under her spell.”

“The answer seems simple enough.” Rook tossed back another swallow of ale. “We hunt her down before she can regroup. Hit her on the road, away from Brightlodge, and end her.”

“And how do you mean to do that?” asked Tipple.

Rook patted his crossbow.

“If only it were that simple,” said Kas. “Yog may not be at her full strength, but she’s no easy target. I’m the one who taught her the secret of undeath. Her essence—her life, if you will—is locked away someplace safe. That’s how she survived my curse, how she’s lived all these years. You’ll have to find her life and destroy it, and that’s no easy task.”

“According to the stories, Baya kept her spirit in a wooden box,” said Inga.

Rook shrugged. “Then we shoot that too.”

“How do we find her?” asked Leech.

“Be patient.” Sterling kept looking over his shoulder towards the main doors. “In the meantime, would someone be so kind as to fetch one of the Grayrock refugees? A boy named Ben. He also goes by ‘Hedgehog.’ He’s currently about this tall and made of wood. You’ll likely find him with his family. I have an idea, but we’ll need his aid.”

“Were you planning to share this idea with the rest of us?” Glory asked.

Sterling merely smiled. “All things in good time.”

The man had something up those ribboned sleeves of his. He’d been distracted from the moment they sat down. Rook didn’t like it.

Sterling reminded him of a lad who’d signed up with the Strangers about ten years back. All proud and cocksure, more worried about looking good than doing good. He’d been sent home not three months later. Most of him had, at any rate. Unlike that boy, Sterling’s skill had lived up to his boasts. So far.

“Eight of us have fought Yog’s Riders,” said Rook. “We should be the ones to hunt her down, while the rest of the Heroes protect Brightlodge.”

“That sounds wise,” said the king. “Why don’t you, um—oh, what is it now?”

The sound of weapons being readied throughout the room almost overpowered the indignant shouts from beyond the main doors. Sterling jumped onto the table and waved his hands. “Hold your blades, my friends. There’s no danger here.”

A familiar redcap stood in the doorway. Blue clutched a pair of curved swords, and he clearly had no idea how to use them. He flailed them about like out-of-control kites on too-short strings, as much a danger to himself as to anyone else. Though it did keep people from approaching him too closely. How in the blazes had he sneaked into Brightlodge, let alone into Wendleglass Hall?

Rook raised his crossbow and waited for a clear shot. Blue spotted him a moment later, but instead of hiding, he tossed his swords to the floor and ran towards Rook, laughing and shouting, “Found them! Blue found the stupid Heroes!”

Inga put a hand on his crossbow. “He’s unarmed.”

“No, he’s still got both arms,” said Rook. “Give me a minute and I can fix that.”

Sterling stepped past them. “Don’t hurt him.”

“Why not?” asked Glory.

Blue collapsed in a sweaty, gasping heap at Sterling’s feet. He held out both hands and said, “Look! No rocks this time!”

Shroud slipped past Rook like a shadow, knife in hand. “Give us one reason not to kill you where you stand, redcap.”

Blue laughed. “Two reasons. First, Blue isn’t standing.”

“He’s got you there,” said Tipple. “What’s the second reason?”

It was Sterling who answered. “Because he’s going to help us.”

Rook’s eyes narrowed. “Help with what?”

“Heroes will help save redcaps from Yog.” Blue bit his lip, then blurted, “And Blue will help Heroes kill Yog.”

“I hate this bloody plan,” Rook muttered as he crept through the woods. Sterling, Winter, and Tipple followed along behind him. Kas rode in Tipple’s front pocket.

“It’s foolish to trust him,” Kas agreed. “He’s a redcap, and one of Yog’s Riders. She can peer through their eyes, listen through their ears.”

“Fart through their arses,” Blue had agreed, nodding hard.

“Blue contacted me on the outskirts of Grayrock,” said Sterling. “There, he delivered a message etched onto a skull. A message, and also an obscene doodle of a farmer and a pig.”

Blue chuckled.

“Didn’t you say he also tried to smack you about the head with that skull?” asked Tipple.

“If Yog can see what Blue sees, then this has to be a trap,” said Winter.

“Yog sleeps. Asleep in a heap.” Blue darted ahead and beckoned impatiently for them to follow. “Blue poisoned her drink. Yog will be mad when she wakes. Flay Blue alive. Flay and play and run away.”

Blue could be telling the truth. Anything was possible. But even if Blue meant to help, there was the minor problem of not actually knowing where Yog’s life was preserved. Without that, they had no way of killing her. Which meant they had to find a way to search her hut.

“How many redcaps in this cave of yours, again?” asked Tipple.

Blue stopped to count on his fingers. His forehead wrinkled. Eventually, he nodded to himself and said, “Lots!”

According to Blue, Yog meant to slaughter an entire tribe of redcaps hidden somewhere in the mountains. Their blood and bones would fuel the assault on Brightlodge.

Rook paused. The hike had been uneventful so far, but a subtle change in the air suggested that was about to change. He signalled the others to wait.

The trail ahead was empty, but the woods were too quiet. The wind was against them, so their scent shouldn’t have carried forwards to warn men or beasts of their approach. The scent of the outlaws waiting in ambush around the bend, on the other hand, carried quite well. Specifically, the smell of sweat, tobacco, and campfire smoke.

“Amateurs,” he muttered.

Rook studied the bend, where a clump of trees grew up between a pair of wind-smoothed boulders. He readied his crossbow and walked onward.

The first outlaw jumped out from behind the boulders. He opened his mouth to bellow what would have doubtless been a well-rehearsed threat, had Rook not shot him in the throat. The hooded woman hiding in a tree’s upper branches fell next, her partially formed spell fizzling into sparks as she hit the ground. The biggest of the outlaws required Rook to empty his crossbow, but once he went down, the rest lost their nerve and fled.

By the time the other Heroes caught up, it was all over. Blue moved furtively towards the fallen outlaws, his face alight like a child’s with a new toy.

“How much farther to these caves of yours?” asked Rook.

Blue pointed to the hills. “Not far.”

“Strange thing, trying to save redcap lives,” commented Tipple.

“Human lives,” Rook said. “I’ll lose no sleep over any incidental redcap casualties.”

“Incidental?” Blue jabbed a finger into his nose, pulled it out, and flicked the results of his excavation in Rook’s direction.

“Blue’s right,” said Winter. “These redcaps weren’t hurting anyone. Let sleeping redcaps lie.”

“Blue, what do redcaps eat?” Rook asked.

Blue shrugged. “Rats and bats. Bugs and slugs. And also Bob.”

“Bob?” asked Sterling.

A sly smile curled Blue’s lips. “Bob was running from outlaws. Tried to hide in the caves.” He patted his belly. “Bob tasted like chicken. Oh—redcaps also eat chickens!”

After that, they walked in silence.

The path into the cave was well travelled. Rook spotted the deeper indentations left by Yog’s hut, as well as larger prints that meant the ogre was with her. “The entrance looks clear.”

“Are you sure about this?” asked Tipple.

“Sooner or later, all Heroes must enter the shadows to confront their enemies,” said Sterling.

Tipple frowned. “Was that a yes or a no?”

“Do you have a better way of getting inside Yog’s hut?” Winter grinned. “Maybe Sterling should try to seduce her.”

“I wouldn’t advise that,” said Kas. “It didn’t end well for me.”

Rook searched the hillside. He saw no guards or lookouts, nor any sign of an ambush. He studied Blue, trying to understand what was going on in that iron-pierced brain.

Sterling trusted the twisted little wretch, and dammit, Rook was inclined to trust Sterling. The man believed in his ideals, but he wasn’t one of those useless blue blood romantics who’d grown up in a tower with no idea what the world outside was all about. He was a man whose actions backed his words. Sure, Sterling’s plan was likely to get them killed and eaten, but it also had the best chance of letting them destroy Yog.

“Well, hell. Let’s do this.” Tipple brushed his hands together and raised his chin, allowing Sterling to knot a rope around his neck. They tested the knot twice, making sure it wouldn’t slide or tighten, then handed the other end to Blue.

Blue laughed nervously as he wound the rope around his wrist. “Noose on the moose. He can’t get loose!”

Rook pulled a single crossbow bolt from his quiver and held it in front of Blue’s face. The redcap’s eyes crossed.

“If you betray us, the last thing you see will be a bolt like this puncturing your left eye. Got it?” He tapped the tip against Blue’s scalp.

Blue swallowed and nodded hard.

“Good.” Rook replaced the bolt and double-checked his weapon. “Let’s go.”

Blue headed into the darkness, pulling Tipple along behind him. Rook and the others followed at a distance, far enough to hide if necessary but keeping Blue in sight. The occasional burning torch jammed into the dirt provided flickering light, but also attracted swarms of buzzing, bloodsucking insects. Rook ignored the stings, keeping his attention on Blue and the tunnels beyond.

They hadn’t gone far when a pair of redcaps came around a curve. Rook raised his crossbow, but before he could shoot, Blue tugged the rope hard enough to make Tipple stumble.

The manic laughter of the two redcaps made Blue sound almost sane. One pulled out a knife and advanced.

“
My
human!” Blue smacked the redcap with the end of the rope. “Get your own.”

The other redcap snarled and grabbed a spiked club from her belt.

Blue yanked the rope again. “Ugly human. Kill that redcap!”

Tipple smiled and stepped forwards. He let the redcap swing first, then moved in to grab her arm above the elbow. With his other hand, he caught the back of the redcap’s trousers and slammed her into her companion, knocking them both against the wall. Their laughter changed to groans, and neither redcap rose.