Warden (Book 2: Lure of the Lamia) (10 page)

Chapter 17

For the next hour, the performance grounds were the site of a heated battle of words between Mayor Sterillo and Anru. The latter insisted that his people were leaving the next day; the former claimed no one was going anywhere until the lamia was revealed. Although all of the patrons had fled long before, the mayor’s supporters stood sullenly behind their leader, as did members of the troupe behind Anru. All in all, with a bunch of armed men on both sides, the scene had the potential to turn very ugly.

Personally, Errol wanted nothing more than to go home and go to sleep. He was mentally and physically drained. However, something told him that time was of the essence. He needed answers, and he needed them fast, and it quietly occurred to him where he might be able to get them.

Stealthily, he slipped away from the ongoing argument between the mayor and Anru, making a beeline for Berry’s tent. The homunculus had actually tried to help him earlier, dropping clues, although it would have been far simpler just to tell Errol directly where the danger was going to be. But some of the weirdling creatures were like that; it was simply in their nature to obfuscate or speak in riddles.

For once, there was no guard on duty outside the little man’s tent. It didn’t mean much to Errol until he entered and realized the reason for the absence of a man outside. There was nothing in the tent to guard. Berry was gone. Frowning in frustration, Errol turned to leave to find Sharn standing behind him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, looking eerily like her mother.

“Looking for Berry,” Errol answered. “Where is he?”

“Some people didn’t like the answers he gave them tonight. We were worried that they might try to come back later and harass him, so we moved him.”

“Where?”

Sharn crossed her arms defiantly. “I’m not sure. You’ll have to ask my mother and father.”

Errol suddenly felt himself growing angry. He had two monsters filled with bloodlust on the loose, scores of potential victims, and these people were stonewalling him. He stepped close to Sharn, so quickly and menacingly that she drew back involuntarily, but then he went around her and out the exit.

Errol walked a few feet away from the tent, and then stopped. He looked up at the moon and let out a frustrated sigh. At times like this, he hated the concept of Wardens with all his being. Not just the danger, although initially – before Tom vanished – that had been a big part of it, but mostly the concept of failure. The fact that people were relying on him, and he was unlikely to come through. That was worse than having to face any monster. If only he could speak to Berry! He had really been counting on the little man’s help – especially after figuring out the clue about Lover’s Leap.

Hmmm…

Errol rubbed his chin in thought. That hadn’t been all Berry had talked about, though. Maybe the homunculus had already given him everything he needed. What else had he said? He’d mentioned something about Errol one day having kids – his son. Errol closed his eyes, trying to recall the little man’s words exactly.

May your son know…

May your son…

Mayor’s son!

Errol broke into a run, headed towards the area where the mayor and Anru were still arguing. The mayor was shouting and wagging his finger in Anru’s face when Errol suddenly grabbed him, cutting off whatever speech he was giving.

“Your son
–
Chad,” Errol practically screamed. “Where is he?”

The mayor, startled and slightly confused, was silent for a moment before answering. “He’s…” The mayor looked around. Chad had been part of their posse pursuing the lamia, and by all expectations should have been present. Apparently, at some point following the battle with the mud-monster, he had disappeared.

Chapter 18

Errol spent several minutes obsessively studying the ground where Chad was last believed to be standing before giving up. The area was simply too well-trodden, with too many prints, for him to figure out which way the mayor’s son had gone – assuming this was indeed where he’d even been standing.

The mayor himself stood nearby (along with everyone else), trying to appear calm but clearly anxious. Errol looked at him and shook his head sadly. And saw the mayor’s face twist up in anguish. He wished there was something more he could do, some other way he could track…

The wind whipped through a stand of nearby trees, making the branches of a young sapling bob up and down, almost as if it were waving at Errol like a long-lost friend. It reminded him of something.

“Give me a minute,” Errol said to the mayor. “I want to try something.” With that, he sat down on the grass and closed his eyes.

Errol hadn’t tried to communicate with the Greenlife since he’d parted ways with Samara. He’d been so angry with her and the “gift” he’d received that he’d never even thought about it having any practical application outside of dealing with the basilisk. Now he needed it to save a life.

He concentrated, trying to remember what the nymph had taught him, focusing on feeling the plant life around him. Slowly, gradually, he shut out the world based on the senses he knew and tried to observe everything around him as the Greenlife did.

Subtly, almost imperceptibly, the droning of plant life began forming in his head. He smiled to himself as it built up with unexpected swiftness, opening the channels of communication with the forest greenery.

Errol quickly (but carefully, since he had to get this right), formulated his questions for the Greenlife. This was made somewhat difficult by the fact that he still had to formulate his queries in the form of yes-no questions:

Have you seen this person?

Did he go this way?

Was he a young man?

The answers Errol received were less than satisfying. The problem had nothing to do with interpretation, as he understood what was being relayed to him. The problem was that – between patrols, some fleeing in panic, and others – there were actually quite a number of people in the surrounding woods, and he couldn’t provide enough information for the plants to distinguish Chad from anyone else.

Errol decided on another tack, this time focusing instead on the lamia: size, shape, movements. This time, the answer was more definitive; the greenery was able to pinpoint his quarry and the direction in which it was headed.

Errol’s eyes snapped open. “Moonbloom Meadow!” he shouted, coming to his feet.

*****

Torches lit up the forest like giant fireflies as Errol and a huge mob – including members of the troupe – dashed through the trees. Ordinarily, Errol would have been far in the lead thanks to his daily training regimen. On this occasion, however, the mayor matched him almost stride for stride. And following just a step or two behind was Baro.

Moonbloom Meadow wasn’t a romantic spot per se. It was a small patch of land covered with Moonbloom rosebushes. As the named implied, the roses themselves only blossomed when the moon was shining, and if you plucked one at that time it would always open and close under moonlight. If plucked during the day, however, the flower would never open. Giving someone a Moonbloom rose was a sign of affection.

As their band got close to the meadow, a frightening roar split the air. Errol recognized it immediately as the same sound the mud-monster had made. He tried to run even faster.

When they exited the trees and stepped onto the meadow, Errol saw a sight he would have paid to witness at any other time. The mud-monster and the lamia were in a pitched battle. Lying on the ground nearby was Chad. At the current distance, Errol couldn’t tell if he was injured, but Chad wasn’t moving and his right arm hung at an odd angle.

The mud-monster had its hands around the lamia’s throat, apparently trying to throttle the life out of her. The lamia squirmed almost spasmodically, its tail whipping viciously back and forth as it tried to pry its opponent’s fingers from its neck.

The mayor barely broke stride as he took in the scene, and then made a beeline for his injured son. Errol was right on his heels, as was Baro.

When they reached Chad, the mayor bent down, intending to lift his son up over his shoulder. The motion attracted the mud-monster’s attention, and it flung away the lamia like a child tossing a toy it had tired of. Faster than seemed possible, the monster strode over and reached for the mayor just as he got Chad onto his shoulder and was turning to run. With barely a thought, Errol stepped in between the Sterillos and the monster, wand and dagger in hand. He was about to fire a spark at the monster when he saw something that froze him in his tracks.

There, on the monster’s wrist – attached to the hand that was currently reaching for Errol – was the bracelet he had given Gale.

Chapter 19

Errol was so in shock that he didn’t even try to dodge when the mud-monster’s massive paw closed around him, pinning his arms – and his weapons – to his side. He only had eyes (and thoughts) for the bracelet.

In truth, the wristlet wasn’t really there. This fact dawned on Errol when, caught in the thing’s grip, he realized that he could actually see through the ornament to the monster’s wrist. In other words, what he was seeing was actually a spectral representation of the bangle; the true bracelet was elsewhere. It also dawned on him what type of creature he was facing: the mud-monster was a golem.

On its part, the golem pulled Errol close and then let out another deadly roar, its maw inches from his faces. Then it looked at him – or at least it appeared to, although it was hard to tell since it didn’t have eyes. Oddly enough, it actually seemed to recognize him, which was entirely possible.

Golems were creatures made out of inanimate material, like mud or rocks, and brought to life via powerful magic. A golem was usually created for a specific purpose, which could be anything from fighting in battles to doing farm work. However, it would only serve the will of its creator. Moreover, the golem and its creator were said to be linked, such that the master could observe all that the golem did. It was this last aspect of the golem’s nature that flitted through Errol’s mind as the creature appeared to look him over in a familiar fashion.

Before Errol could decide whether the golem was friend or foe, the air was filled with a maddened screech that set his teeth on edge. Without warning, the lamia appeared, hissing in fury as she clawed her way up the golem’s body in a circular fashion, like a snake winding its way up a tree. In less than a second, it was on the golem’s shoulder, where it quickly wrapped its lower body around the golem’s neck.

The golem’s grip loosened, and it let Errol drop unceremoniously to the ground as it reached for the lamia, but it was too late. The lamia squeezed, and the golem’s head popped off with a sound like a boot being pulled up out of the mud. As its body began to topple over backwards, the lamia leaped clear.

Errol, having plopped onto his rear after being dropped, was on his feet again. The golem’s body was dissolving, much as it had before. The lamia, hood flared out, appeared on the verge of charging him but suddenly seemed to change its mind. Instead, it hissed at him evilly, then took off in the opposite direction.

Knowing he couldn’t catch it, Errol pulled back the hand holding the dagger, preparing to throw. There was almost no chance that he would hit the lamia, which zigged and zagged almost hypnotically through the rosebushes, but he had to try something. However, as his hand came forward and he released, he was jostled by Baro (who, while apparently trying to come to Errol’s aid, had stumbled).

The impact spoiled Errol’s aim, and the dagger went flying wide of the mark. However, in mid-flight, the blade self-corrected, as it had in the Widow’s cabin, changing direction and zipping towards an area of the meadow Errol could barely see. There was an inhuman scream as the blade apparently made contact, and Errol ran towards the source of the sound.

There were quite a number of people with torches accompanying him, but Errol preferred to use the light from his wand. It only took him a few seconds to find the blood trail – reddish-green ichor dotting the ground or brushing against a plant every few feet. A few moments later he found his dagger; the lamia had obviously pulled it out and continued fleeing.

Errol now faced a difficult choice. The lamia was wounded, although he didn’t know how badly, but it might be their best opportunity to deal with it once and for all. At the same time, he desperately needed to resolve the mystery of the golem – especially since it looked like it might relate to Gale. He stood there debating silently, while the makeshift posse of farmers and troupe performers stood around him, waiting for some signal of what to do.

“Warden?” said Baro, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Errol immediately came back to himself and made a command decision. “All of you, follow the blood trail. Find this thing and kill it.”

The group moved to comply as Errol began walking in the other direction. A hand on his arm suddenly checked his movement. It was Baro.

“What is it you will be doing while we hunt this thing?” the knife-thrower asked.

Errol nodded in the direction where the golem had melted into the ground. “Tracking down the other monster.”