“Swimming is not the risky part,” Warden says. “It is what is beneath the waves which poses the greatest danger.”
“And what’s that?”
“The Shellycoat.”
WARDEN
The lines led us here. As the Laidly Wyrm said, Heddon cave is the only way out of the Underhill. Unless we could get a portal to work. However, as it took the appearance of magic in a non-magical place to open the one we fell through, I doubt there will be any way of using it to get back.
All of this is wrong. From my chance finding of the tavern on the ancient drover road through the Night Lands to the kind agreement of the Duegar from the Shadow Keep to help me with my mate. To the need for me to stay a further night when I should have been long gone. There are too many coincidences for me to feel anything but uneasy about our trip through the Underhill.
I change from my Brag form to that of my more human one, Lady Ryle in my arms. I gently put her on her feet in the sand. To my delight, she doesn’t release me straight away. Instead she steadies herself against my chest as she stares out at the Heddon cave.
“Is the Shellycoat in the water?” she asks.
“The Heddon cave is a portal of sorts. He inhabits the portion between here and the Yeavering, along with his fortress abovethe sands,” I growl. “He is a creature not to be trusted, for he will drown you simply because he has nothing better to do and it entertains him.”
“He doesn’t sound very nice.”
“Beal is anything butnice.” My teeth are gritted. “He is an evil thing who should, by all which is right, be locked in my Shadow Keep with his masters.”
“He worked for the Faerie?”
I bark out a harsh laugh. “Beal works for no one but himself. Which means he is always available for the highest price to whomever will pay it.”
My fingers curl my hands into fists. The mere thought of the atrocities committed by the Shellycoatbecause he wanted tois not something I want to contemplate.
“So we can expect no mercy then.” My lady squares her shoulders, and her hand goes to the hilt of her sword as she gazes at the Heddon cave.
“No mercy. No quarter. If I could die, he would kill me,” I growl.
Her eyes return to me.
“Are you telling me the one thing which stands in our way of leaving this place is also your enemy?” She studies my face.
“Sort of.” I avert my eyes from hers.
“Sort of doesn’t cut it, Warden. Do we have more of a problem than having to swim for it?”
“You probably don’t. Beal will more likely want me than you.”
“Fantastic,” she replies, in a way which I’m pretty certain means she doesn’t think anything is fantastic, least of all me.
“Do you know how to use that sword?” I grab at the weapon, but she swiftly turns to one side to block me.
“You’ve seen me. You know I do.”
“I’ve seen you do a parlour trick. I haven’t seen you use it in anger.”
“Nor will you,” my lady says grimly. “I only use it when there is no alternative.”
“So, show me.” I reach into my saddlebags and pull out my weapon, a short sword, the type I prefer. “The Shellycoat is not immune to having parts cut off him, even if he will regrow them.”
“I won’t fight you, Warden,” she says. “Not with this sword. I don’t care if you don’t die. I care what else I might kill.”
I study her for a moment then toss her my sword, pulling another from the other saddlebag.
“You have two?” She stares at me.
