Skulduggery Pleasant: Kingdom of the Wicked (39 page)

Vengeous didn’t answer.

At some unseen command, the Redhoods stepped forward and drove their spears into Mevolent’s torso. He stiffened but didn’t scream. The Redhoods withdrew their spears and stepped back, and Mevolent fell forward on to one hand. He stayed there for a moment, gathering his strength, then resumed his kneeling position. Once again, the Redhoods took a step, and drove their spears in. This time Mevolent did scream. He threw his head back, his eyes screwed shut, and let out an agonised howl. The Redhoods shoved their spears deeper, twisted, and the scream was cut off. They withdrew, and Mevolent slumped to the ground, blood oozing from his many wounds.

Something rose from the pool of black, something long-limbed and spider-like, slowly unravelling its arms as it straightened. The creature called Nye ignored Valkyrie completely as it reached for Mevolent, gently pulling him across the floor. The Redhoods stood to attention as Mevolent slid slowly into the pool.

“Every day he dies,” Vengeous told her, keeping his voice down. “A short death, always violent. Always painful. Blood is always spilled. By doing this he will teach death that he is its master, and when it comes for him against his wishes, it will hesitate and withdraw.”

Nye rose from the pool and left the room. It didn’t even glance at Valkyrie. But of course, it had no reason to. To it, she was just another prisoner.

A moment later, Mevolent’s head broke the surface of the black liquid. He climbed the steps out of the pool and a woman rushed forward with a robe. It was only when he was out that Valkyrie truly appreciated just how tall he was. Even barefoot, he towered over the woman and the Redhoods. The woman handed him a towel and he wiped the black residue from his face, turning away from Valkyrie before she got a good look. They left through the same door that Nye had scuttled through, and Vengeous prodded Valkyrie, forcing her on.

They came to what could only be described as a throne room. Elaborate weapons of all kinds hung from the walls, but the throne itself was a simple thing, just a heavy wooden chair that looked like it had been carved straight from the tree. On their way towards it, they passed a glass case. Within, garments stood like a suit of armour, fabric and leather and chainmail woven together in blacks and greys. The helmet was dark metal, its features arranged into a screaming visage, and the hooded cloak that covered it all was tattered and ripped and covered in half-hidden sigils.

“His battlesuit,” Vengeous informed her. “The master had never been defeated while wearing it. The helmet has been the source of terrible nightmares for his many enemies.”

Valkyrie didn’t respond. She wasn’t looking at the clothes or the helmet. She was looking at the small golden staff with a black crystal embedded in its hilt.

The Sceptre of the Ancients.

She stared at it. She no longer had Darquesse. Skulduggery no longer had Vile. But the Sceptre could kill Argeddion. If she could get it back to her own—

Vengeous shoved her so hard she nearly went flying. She recovered in time for him to grab her arm and position her before the throne.

“You are not to look the master in the eye,” he said. “Mevolent is the voice of the Faceless Ones on this earth and as such you have neither the right nor the honour to look upon his face. Any attempt to meet his gaze will be met with punishment. Do you understand?”

Valkyrie nodded.

Mevolent came through the narrow door behind the throne, barefoot, wearing a simple robe and some kind of veil over his head that hid his eyes. Remembering Vengeous’s words, she looked at his hands as he sat. For a while, he didn’t speak.

“Have you ever seen a man come back to life before?” he asked at last. His voice was deep but flat. Unimpressive. “Not many have. Over the years, stories have grown up around what you have seen here today. The truth gets misplaced the more the stories travel. They say I bathe in blood. Have you heard that? According to the stories I must submerge myself in mortal blood for two hours out of every twenty-four, or else my body starts to break apart due to the corruption I have inside me. That’s a lot of mortal blood to drain every single day, but they don’t take such things into consideration when concocting these stories, do they? On a purely logistical level, if I had to drain all those mortals, I’d never have the time to do anything else, would I?

“Other stories tell how I eat innocent newborns, how I’m ten feet tall, how I breathe fire and have great dragon wings. None of these are wholly accurate. I don’t have dragon wings, I don’t breathe fire, I’m only eight feet tall and I’ve never eaten a newborn that didn’t have it coming. My name is Mevolent. What’s yours?”

For a moment, her throat was too tight to speak. “Valkyrie,” she said at last. “Valkyrie Cain.”

“You’re not from here, Valkyrie, are you? I don’t need my Sense-Wardens to tell me that. I’d have known it just by looking at you. You don’t belong here.”

“No.”

“But you’ve obviously heard of me. You have too much fear about you not to know who I am. Am I what you expected?”

She shook her head.

“Words, Valkyrie. Use your words.”

“No,” she said. “You’re not what I expected.”

“I’m glad. I would hate to be predictable. You’ve heard about the monster Mevolent. You’ve heard the stories. You’ve heard what I’ve done. You expected something... different. What did you expect?”

“I don’t know.”

“This conversation is the only thing delaying your pain. It’s in your best interests to prolong it.”

She swallowed. “I didn’t know what to expect. I’ve heard so much about you, but not... not what you were like. I expected someone...”

“Scary?”

“You are scary.”

“Violent, then?”

“Yes. Maybe.”

“I am a changed man. During the war, I was violent and bloodthirsty. When the war ended, I was violent and ruthless. During my reign, I have been violent and unyielding. Wherever I walk, I leave bloody footprints. But no more. Violence spreads misery, and I have grown tired of misery. Your friends in the Resistance, I would like to meet with them to forge a treaty, to go forward in peace.”

“I don’t have friends in the Resistance.”

“We both know you stand against me.”

“But I don’t know anyone in the Resistance. I’m not from here, you said it yourself.”

“Yet you have been noticed, Valkyrie.
We
noticed you, twice in the last few days. I’m sure you’ve come to the attention of the Resistance also.”

“No, I’m telling you, I haven’t met any of them.”

“Don’t take me for a fool, Valkyrie. I’m extending a hand in friendship.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t—”

Mevolent’s mouth twisted into a snarl beneath his veil and Vengeous struck Valkyrie across the face. She fell to her knees.

“I try to be kind,” Mevolent murmured. “I offer an olive branch instead of a sword, and this is where it gets me. Insulted. Mocked.”

“I wasn’t mocking you.”

“You expect me to believe that someone like you has not caught the attention of the Resistance?”

“Maybe I have,” she said, “but they haven’t been able to find me. I don’t want to join the Resistance.”

“You’re lying to me.”

“I’m not, I—”

“Of course you are. You have to. You’re lying because your life is in danger. You’re lying because I could order Baron Vengeous to snap your neck and there’s nothing you could do to stop him, is there? Well?”

“No,” she said. “There isn’t.”

“So of course you’re lying. I expect you to lie. It’s only natural. You will lie until you run out of lies, and then you will tell the truth until you run out of truth, and then you will start lying again, telling us what you think we want to hear. We know this. It’s inevitable. It’s what happens. You will be no different to the hundreds, to the thousands, to the tens of thousands of people we’ve questioned.”

Valkyrie kept her eyes away from Mevolent’s face. She was fully aware of how close Vengeous stood to her. It was times like these, back in her own reality, that Skulduggery Pleasant would break down the door and stride in with a joke and a bullet. God, she missed him. God, she wished he were here right now. What she wouldn’t give to see that door open and the Skeleton Detective walk—

The door opened. Mevolent’s head moved slightly, his mouth twitching. A shadow at the door. Footsteps. Familiar footsteps. Skulduggery’s footsteps. A smile broke across her face. He’d found her. He’d used Nadir to follow her over and he’d found her and—

He emerged from the doorway and Valkyrie’s heart sank. Blood drained from her face and she suddenly got so very cold.

“Oh, no,” she whispered, as Lord Vile moved to stand beside the throne, his black armour lapping at the air around him.

rskine Ravel was like one of those old movie stars, all dashing good looks and easy charm. He was, and Elsie had never actually used this word to describe anyone, simply
captivating
.

And Ghastly was so completely and utterly cool. She’d been shocked at first, when she’d seen his scars, but she couldn’t remember anyone who made her feel quite so safe when she was in their company – her dad, maybe, back when she was a little girl, but that was it.

They walked by those grey-clad men and women, and she caught sight of her reflection in the visors of their helmets. Walking alongside Ravel and Ghastly, she suddenly realised how ridiculous she looked. Fat, ugly, wearing clothes that she’d once thought disguised both of these facts. These were exceptional, magnificent people she was around, and who was she? Take away the powers she hated and she’d be back to being a nobody.

They approached a blue wall of energy, on the other side of which four people in robes hovered a little off the ground with their eyes closed. Elsie was suddenly struck by how amazing this all was.

One of the men smiled, though his eyes didn’t open. “Erskine,” he said. “Ghastly. Aren’t you two busy enough? Don’t you have a crisis to control?”

“We’re never too busy for old friends,” said Ravel. “We just thought we’d come down, see how you were, see if you needed anything. A snack. A magazine. Maybe a bathroom break.”

“You can’t stop Argeddion.”

“Who said anything about Argeddion? I didn’t even mention his name. I wasn’t even thinking about him. But since you’ve brought him up, Tyren, you are absolutely right. We can’t stop him. Not without your help.”

Tyren’s smile widened. “You really think we’re going to lift a finger against him? After what we did? He deserves freedom.”

“Years ago, yes, he did. You made a mistake, and you weren’t the only one. Meritorious should never have agreed to your plan. But now? It’s too late. The point can be argued that you made him into exactly the kind of threat you feared, but I’m not one for assigning blame. That’s not how this Council of Elders works. We
are
all about redemption, though, and this is your chance to redeem yourself. Elsie O’Brien,” Ravel said, “I’d like you to meet Tyren Lament. Tyren and his friends have been infected with the same magic as you. Tyren, say hello to Elsie.”

Tyren Lament turned his head slightly, as though he could see her through his eyelids. “I thought I recognised a kindred spirit. Hello, Elsie, how are you today? You know, by rights you should be over here on this side, with us.”

Ghastly raised his eyebrow at her. “Well? It’s up to you.”

“Uh, no,” she said. “No thank you. No offence, sir, but you’re... you’re kind of creeping me out.”

Lament laughed, and the other robed people chuckled. “Fair enough, fair enough,” said Lament. “So is this your tactic, gentlemen? Bring a lovely young lady down to us just so she can make fun of our sandals?”

“This isn’t a tactic,” said Ravel. “We just thought Elsie would like to see the first people gifted with a slice of Argeddion’s power. What do you think, Elsie?”

She hesitated. “Am I going to end up like them?” she asked quietly.

“No,” Ghastly said, shaking his head. “Argeddion’s been controlling their will for the last few years, that’s why they’re like this.”

“It’s really not as bad as it sounds,” Lament said.

She peered at him. “But how do you do things? How do you talk to us? Is he controlling what you say?”