Riddle in Stone (The Riddle in Stone Series - Book One) (13 page)

Edmund swore as the stone banged into his knees, leaving a bloody gash. “No.”

“Well then, I’m stumped. You’re a mystery to me, Filth.”

They dropped the stone in the water. Edmund bent over, breathing hard, not even caring about his bitterly cold feet.

“I,” he began and then realized he didn’t know what to say. “I was . . . I was just walking.”

“Just walking?” Pond Scum left the stream. “I don’t understand. Are you from around these mountains? I didn’t think anybody lived this far north except them.”

Edmund followed him to the closest stone pile. Crazy Bastard was on top of the mountain, sending slabs sliding down, smashing at their feet. Pond Scum selected one of the bigger pieces. Edmund stretched his back, cringed, and then bent down to lift it. Straining to straighten his legs, he let out a muffled cry. His knee throbbing, he fought with the weight of the stone for a moment and then let it fall back onto the other rocks.

“I, I can’t,” he said. “I can’t . . . I can’t budge that one. Maybe . . . maybe, the others can.”

Pond Scum chose a smaller block. “Go on. What do you mean you were just walking?”

Yes, tell him about your brilliant idea to give meaning to your life!

Sliding his strap under the stone, Edmund put his feet hips’ width apart and lifted.

“I just . . . left. I just started walking.”

They shuffled to the stream, waded into the icy water, and lowered their load.

“I don’t understand. Did they banish you or something? You don’t look like you were homeless. No offense, but it doesn’t look as if you have missed many meals.”

“I wasn’t. Homeless, that is. I, I just . . . I just needed a change.”

“So you just started walking?”

Edmund’s head bobbed lethargically. “Something like that.”

Go ahead. Tell him how you were going to become a world famous adventurer!

“Why? What was so bad about where you were? Famine or something? Was it a dangerous place? Highwaymen robbing everybody? Corrupt government?”

Edmund arched his back again and tried to twist his torso. He grimaced.

“No. Nothing like any of that.” Images of Rood flooded his mind—the bakery, the park in the middle of town, the Wandering Rogue. He was surprised by the fondness that bloomed inside of him. “You know . . . I . . . I really can’t say. It seemed so clear back then, why I left, I mean. Now . . . I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

Something loomed up behind them. Turning fast, Edmund threw up his hands to protect his swollen eye.

“Scum,” Turd said, “why don’t you go help Vomit and Crazy.” Turd inclined his huge head at Edmund. “I’ll work with him for a bit.”

Oh, great! What does he want?

Who cares? Just don’t make him angry.

Evidently surprised, but not daring to disagree, Pond Scum went to help Vomit and Crazy Bastard with a boulder the size of a wagon wheel. When he had gone, Turd pointed to a slab bigger than anything Edmund had attempted before. It was as large as his dining table back in Rood and two feet thick. With a fierce snarl, Turd wrestled it onto its side.

“I . . . I can’t,” Edmund said, shaking his head. “I can’t lift—”

“We’ll push it.” Turd set his shoulder to the block.

Unsure what to do, Edmund got on the other side and put his shoulder just below Turd’s. With a great heave, Turd began sliding the slab to the stream, plowing aside the pebbles carpeting the ground. Edmund pushed as well, his boots slipping with each step.

“Thanks for the cloth for my hands,” Turd said, driving the stone forward.

Heaving as hard as he was able, Edmund could only grunt.

“I want you to know,” Turd whispered, “that I think we can get out of here—the two of us.”

Stunned, Edmund stopped pushing, though the megalith kept sliding toward the dam at the same pace.

What’s he up to?

Shut up and listen.

“There’s no reason why we can’t be the two out of five who escape into the mines,” Turd went on, almost to himself. “You and me. If you can figure out how to get food and carry water, like you said, I can take care of the fighting. I can get us out of the mines.”

Edmund resumed pushing.

“All right,” he found himself saying.

He’d kill me as soon as I’d served his purpose.

Shut up. And don’t look skeptical! Make him think you are willing to do what he wants.

Turd’s expression toughened.

“It isn’t like Vomit or Crazy would be of much help. Vomit knows that. He can’t run. But he wants to at least try. He wouldn’t mind us thinking about ourselves. He just wants to have a chance. We can make sure he dies quickly.”

The massive block slid into the water.

“What about Pond Scum?”

Seizing his upper arm, Turd yanked Edmund backwards.

“Scum’s an idiot. If he survives, fine. If not, I don’t care. Like you said, we can’t all make it. You and me have the best chance. If you can get me in the mines, I can get you out and into the mountains. I know how to survive in the mountains. They’ll never find us.”

He let the slab fall away from them. It hit the stones already heaped in the stream and shattered with a terrific splash.

Turd leaned closer. “What do you say?”

Edmund opened his mouth as Turd’s fingers dug into his flesh.

Just agree and get away from him. Make him believe that—

An eerie silence settled around them. The stream still burbled, rushing over the newly placed piles of rubble, but all else was deadly still.

Edmund straightened.

“Where are the guards?” he whispered.

Turd twitched.

“Where are they?” Edmund repeated, turning.

The guards were nowhere to be seen.

Lowering their load, Pond Scum and Vomit glanced into a nearby passageway. They looked back at Edmund, puzzled.

“Quick,” Turd said in Edmund’s ear. “This is it. Get a pick and let’s get out of here!”

Pond Scum and Vomit had already converged on the pile of tools.

Giggling, Crazy Bastard shoved pebbles in his mouth.

There’s something wrong . . .

“Wait,” Edmund said.

Everybody stood motionless.

“What?” Turd replied. “Now, while we have time!”

“There’s something wrong. This isn’t right. They wouldn’t simply leave.” Edmund scanned the darkness around them. “This has to be a trap. A test, or something.”

“Who cares?” Turd hissed. “We have a running start. This’ll increase our chances. This is what we were hoping for. Let’s go!”

Clutching their picks, Vomit and Pond Scum wavered.

“No,” Edmund said, firmer. “This isn’t right. They wouldn’t just leave like this.”

“I don’t care what you say. I’m going. I can’t wait any longer!” The big man took a step toward one of the tunnels.

“Stop! I just heard somebody load a crossbow,” Edmund lied.

Everybody held their breath.

Scowling, Turd’s body tensed. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“I just hear the water on the stones,” Vomit whispered.

Pond listened a moment longer and shook his head. “I don’t hear anything either.”

“It’s a trap. Trust me.” Edmund swung his pick at a stone, his eyes flitting from shadow to shadow. Pond Scum followed his example, then Vomit. Reluctantly, Turd turned and swung his pick.

Standing by the stream, Crazy Bastard shrieked, his voice reverberating in the subterranean chasm.

“Death!” he cackled.

He dove to the ground, his digging hands sending a spray of pebbles in every direction.

“Death!”

He shoved his head in the hole he created.

“Death!”

Cowering from the unknown, Edmund collapsed to his knees. Vomit and Pond Scum cast aside their picks. Hesitating, Turd stood above them, unsure what to do.

Then a familiar voice broke the stillness.

“What did I tell you, Mr. Gurding? There’s more to our new friend here than meets the eye. Wouldn’t you say?”

A deeper voice replied. “Perhaps, Mr. Kravel. However, I am more interested in seeing how long he lasts. Don’t forget. I still have three and a half days in our new wager.”

Kravel and Gurding stepped out of a niche in the wall, followed by the two missing guards.

“Patience, Mr. Gurding,” Kravel said. “First things, as they say, are first. Master Filth,” Kravel called to Edmund, “would you do us the pleasure of joining us?”

What do I do now?

Vomit pushed him to his feet. “Don’t keep them waiting. Go!”

“Do whatever they say,” Pond Scum whispered. “Don’t think! Just do.”

Edmund hurried to the waiting goblins, his hands smoothing his unkempt hair and straightening what was left of his clothing.

Producing a small coil of rope from his pocket, Gurding formed a noose.

“I don’t believe that will be called for, Mr. Gurding. Wouldn’t you agree, Filth?”

His head bent, Edmund twitched like a man being shocked. His hands fumbled together and then touched one of the purple bumps on his dirt-smeared forehead.

“It’s certainly wonderful to see you again. You look splendid, I must say.” Kravel went on. “I hadn’t anticipated such a reunion so soon; however, as you’ll soon learn, events have produced an outcome different than what I had originally expected.”

“You’ve lost weight,” observed Gurding. “But you’re still fat.”

“Ah! That’s just like you, Mr. Gurding. Always seeing both sides of the matter.” Bowing, Kravel motioned to a passage. “If you please, Master Filth.”

Edmund recoiled, darting a fleeting look at the two guards who were reading a piece of paper with great interest.

“Not to worry. Not to worry,” Kravel said, dismissively. “Your guardians here understand that your presence is required elsewhere. They have their orders and we will be responsible for your well-being. Come. Come. You don’t want to be late. I can assure you of that. It would be very detrimental to your present good health.”

“He’s certainly quiet this time,” Gurding said as they strolled up a well-lit passageway. “Much better than before. All that stuttering.” He looked back at Edmund following close behind. “Honestly, if we had to be around you for another day, I would’ve snapped your neck, orders or no.”

Keep your mouth shut! Don’t say a word. Don’t say a word and do whatever they say!

“The Questioners do work wonders,” admitted Kravel. “Still, I miss the witty banter we had, don’t you? Not to mention Filth’s endless crying. There is simply something about a sobbing fat man, would you agree, Mr. Gurding?”

“It depends upon how they are cooked, I suppose.”

“Ah! Indeed. There is that wit of yours. You’re a treasure, Mr. Gurding. A treasure.” Kravel turned around. “But Mr. Gurding is correct. You certainly are a quiet one, Filth. Or have they cut out your tongue?”

“That would make this afternoon rather difficult to say the least,” Gurding mused.

Concerned, Kravel halted and told Edmund to open his mouth, which Edmund did, his tongue twitching in the torch light.

“Well,” Kravel said, relieved. “That gave me quite the start! Could you imagine what would have happened if we brought him up to the tower only to find that he had no tongue?”

Gurding shuddered. “It would not have been pleasant. Not in the least bit.”

They entered a chamber with a wooden platform connected to four thick chains extending upward into darkness. Two human slaves, haggard and bloody, stood like plow horses ready to grind corn at a millstone.

Maybe I can escape! They aren’t paying any attention to me.

Don’t be stupid. They’d run you down before you took three steps. Just do what they say. And keep your wits about you!

Edmund followed his captors onto the platform.

“To the top, if you would be so kind,” Kravel said to the guard.

The guard flicked his whip.

Running in a circle, the slaves began turning a large wheel. Gears whirled. Chains creaked. The platform lifted unsteadily off the ground.

“I suppose you are wondering where we are headed, my dear Filth,” Kravel said as they rose off the ground.

Below them, the whip cracked again. Somebody cried out as the platform surged upward.

“I’m not too sure I like him like this,” said Gurding. “Not that I like all the stuttering. It drove me crazy just listening to him. It took until now to get his squawking out of my head at nights. But at least he had personality.”

“Well said, Mr. Gurding. However, perhaps it is best that Master Filth here rest his convulsive tongue while he can.”

Edmund watched the wall of the shaft through which they were rising.

“You see, Master Filth,” Kravel said, “we’ve found some . . . shall we say, irregularities in the information you provided us earlier.”

“You lied,” Gurding said.

Uh oh! What did I tell them?

“That is a succinct way of phrasing matters, I’m afraid.”

“We aren’t particularly fond of liars.”

“No indeed. You are quite correct, Mr. Gurding. And I have to say that, in one respect, I am disappointed that you hid the complete and utter truth from us, my dear Filth. I thought that we were friends, you and I. Then again, it would seem that you are going to help promote our standing considerably—Mr. Gurding’s and mine, that is. So I’m inclined to overlook your little indiscretion for the time being. However, given that you have foiled the astute questioning of both ourselves and the Questioner you met when we arrived home, somebody else wishes to have a word with you.”

“A very important somebody.”

“Now you are understating things, Mr. Gurding. That’s unlike you.”

Trying to remember to breathe, Edmund continued to stare at the wall while the platform rose higher and higher up through the mountain.

“You see, Filth,” Kravel went on, “you will have a remarkable pleasure that very few Hiisi have ever had, and perhaps none of your kind.”

“At least none of your kind who have survived the experience.”

“Quite possibly. However, Mr. Gurding here is merely speculating. Such knowledge is not available to us, you understand. You see, Filth, you will be meeting somebody who has taken a personal interest in you.”

Personal . . . interest . . . ?

Icy sweat began trickling down Edmund’s sides.

That doesn’t sound good.

Just keep your mouth shut, don’t look at them in the eye, and do whatever they say!

Gurding’s yellow teeth appeared in a kind of grin. “And he will make sure that you’ll tell us everything you know. He may even cure your stutter.”

“One can only hope, Mr. Gurding. But let us not make any promises on His Majesty’s behalf.”

His Majesty?

Edmund’s head lifted.

What have you gotten yourself into now, Edmund, you fool?

“Yes, indeed, my dear Filth,” Kravel said in response to Edmund’s horrified expression. “You will soon have the honor of meeting our magnificent and benevolent King! I trust you have brought something appropriate to wear? No? Never mind. I am sure he’ll like you for who you are, as we do. Isn’t that right, Mr. Gurding?”

“I never said I liked him. In fact, I’m still mystified about this whole affair. Why His Majesty would want to meet with the likes of him is beyond me. Personally, I hope His Highness kills the fat fellow, or allows us to do so.”

“Interesting possibilities, no doubt. I suppose such outcomes would depend largely upon how well Master Filth here answers questions.” Kravel shook Edmund’s shoulder playfully. Edmund blanched, pain coursing through his stiff body. “What do you think, Master Filth? Will you be in a talkative mood tonight?”

“I bet you that he’ll be screaming more than talking.”

Kravel thought about this. “I’ll take that bet, Mr. Gurding. I believe Master Filth here will do splendidly. I’m quite sure that he will tell all that he knows about anything His Majesty asks him.”

Gurding laughed. “If he doesn’t . . . ”