They stared at each other in a contest of wills, and Titus was the first to falter. Some of his bravado deflated, and his worried eyes flickered over his master’s face. “Swear that you will meet us at the inn.”
A grin slipped onto Scalyvar’s face, and he patted his friend’s shoulder. “I swear it on the graves of my forefathers.” He directed the horse backward a few steps and nodded at the cart. “Now lead your companions to safety. I expect all to be accounted for when we next meet at the inn.”
Titus swept into a low bow. “As you wish, Your Majesty!” He straightened and looked him in the eyes. “And Cassian?”
Cassian lifted an eyebrow. “Yes?”
A crooked smile slipped onto Titus’ lips. “Show them they can’t bust into our camp again.”
Cassian grinned and grasped the reins in both hands. “That I can most definitely promise you.” Those in the company who were able sat up or stood at attention and bowed to their king. “Until we meet again in three days’ time!” the king shouted before he spurred his horse.
Niveus sprinted into the woods where the fiends had gone, leaving behind a worried group of men. Titus spun around to face the others, and he pointed at the northeast. “You heard His Majesty! We must be swift, or he’ll beat us to the best ale!”
“Yes, sir!” came the shout, and the men hurried to load their injured and supplies.
While they began their race, Scalyvar moved in the near opposite direction. The cover of darkness slowed his progress, but telltale signs aided his search. The huge beast had broken many branches in its hurried retreat, and its entourage had left their footprints in the dirt.
Niveus tossed his head and softly whinnied.
The king patted his back. “I’m not sure if we’ll find her alive, either, but we must try.”
The horse turned its head far enough so one bright blue eye settled on its rider. The steed vibrated its lips together.
Scalyvar lifted an eyebrow. “I have no special motive other than she was in my custody. I can’t abandon her to such a fate.”
The horse snorted and looked ahead.
Chapter 9
I felt like I was in some old horror movie nightmare. No way could I have my ankles and wrists strapped to a table, and be surrounded by glass beakers and vials filled with putrid, floating objects. Cobwebs dangled above my face, threatening to strangle my screams in their gossamer stickiness.
But there I was, in the dungeoness lair of the strange besheveled man. The room had been carved out of the earth and was an angular circle. There were no windows and only one crude wooden door, but a round hole in the high ceiling revealed a short chimney, and the starry sky a few yards above that. Their gentle light shone through the gap and onto the middle of the floor, where a large cauldron hung over a crackling fire. The flames must have been magical, as all the smoke floated straight up and out through the hole.
Parts of the floor were polished by the countless steps of my ‘host,’ and told the tale of his many travels around the space. Vhulkar himself shuffled from one table to the other along those paths, plucking vials and bottles from the surface, studying them for a moment, and putting them back. He muttered to himself as he went along. “No, that would be quite reckless. Ah-ha!” He plucked a vial from a cluster and lifted the glass to his face, where he swished the bracken-like contents. “This might be just what’s needed.”
I pulled against my straps, but the leather only groaned beneath my efforts. “I’m telling you, you have the wrong person. I don’t have any magic. Somebody else’s magic dropped me there.”
“Nonsense,” he insisted as he moved over to a table stacked with books. “The nethral are enthralled with you, hence you must have some unique characteristic.”
“Yeah, that’s my ability to get into trouble!” I snapped as I wriggled in my bindings. “Now, could you stop helping it and let me go?”
The man spun around with a heavy glass ball clasped in his hands. The bowl was filled with filthy water, and dirt sat on the bottom. What caught my attention, however, was the creature that swam in that dank liquid. It was some sort of squid, but with bulbous eyes and a head that tapered into a shark-like fin. Each of its four tendrils ended in bulbous sacs and sharp, needle-like tips that released whatever was contained in those sacs.
“You forget yourself, woman. I am master here, of this forest and all its boundaries.”
Idle chatter. That would bide me some time to think of an escape plan. “I thought these woods belonged to King Scalyvar.”
The man clutched the bowl tighter to himself and lifted his nose. “That worthless boy? He has all the temerity without the wisdom. I had no trouble resting these woods from him, and I shall have no trouble using my nethral minions to take even more land.” He raised one fisted hand in the air above his head, and his eyes bulged out of his head. “Then they shall remember the name of Zareth Vhulkar! He who they wrongfully banished!”
That’s it. Just tell me your life story and give me enough time to extend mine. I lifted an eyebrow. “What’d you do?”
His long nostrils sniffed the air. “I was merely experimenting on nethral. Just harmless experiments, and yet they at the university thought I should destroy all my precious work. It would have been ‘good for the people’ if my work had stopped.” He shook his fist in the air. “Nonsense! These creatures can be used for our purposes! They can be great armies and vanquish all our enemies overnight! We need only harness and expand their pits, and all our foes will be no more!”
Pits. Titus had used that word, too. “What’s a pit?”
My question was followed by an awkward silence. My host lowered his hand and blinked at me. “What do you mean by that question?”
Uh-oh. I swallowed hard. “I, um, I’m not from around here, so I don’t know too much about the nethral.”
