Warrior Witch: Malediction Trilogy Book Three (14 page)

The bones didn’t crunch beneath my feet so much as they bent, giving way beneath my weight as though they were made of rubber. Scraps of fabric, buttons, weapons, and bits of simple jewelry were scattered amongst them, but I couldn’t tell if they’d come from trolls, half-bloods, humans, or a mixture of all three.

Barooom.
The sluag’s call was faint, but I flinched. It was time to be gone from this place.

Barooom.
My nerves cracked and I broke into a run, leaping over piles of bones, sludge splashing up on my trouser legs. The ceiling of the tunnel dropped, and I bent lower and lower until I had to rest one hand on the ground for balance.

Barooom.
Was it getting closer? I almost wished the space would get smaller so that the creature wouldn’t be able to follow, and, caught up in my wishing, I almost fell into a hole that yawned up in the ground in front of me.

It was the odor I recognized more than anything else, a damp and faintly musty scent that I associated with Trollus. Setting my lantern aside, I leaned down into the hole and was rewarded with a faint glimmer of silver light.

I’d found a route into the city.

J
osette informed
them that her sister had sent her to Trianon for her own safety, which was absolute lunacy, in my opinion. Trianon was a target, not a safe haven. But Sabine and Marc were clearly both too distracted to question her claim, and I was more interested in what the spy who’d just landed in our midst intended to do than I was in outing her.

They left Joss alone with me.

I pretended to ignore her.

“Cécile sends her love,” she said, skirting around the growling dog. “She misses you.”

I highly doubted Cécile had sent along those sentiments, but my chest tightened nonetheless. She’d been worming her way into my thoughts for the past several hours. I’d told myself it was because she was relevant to my problem with the Winter Queen, but it was more than that. She was up to something, and whatever it was had her nerves stretched tight. I patted my pocket, thinking it might be time to take another dose.

“Is my sister all right?” Joss asked. “I’ve been worried about her since I left.”

I didn’t answer. This was Winter trying to ascertain how affective Cécile’s spell was; whether she could use her to lure me out. But the fact of the matter was that I knew Winter wouldn’t risk killing Cécile, so it was a failed gambit. And if the direness of Cécile’s situation came from another source, it wasn’t as though she couldn’t drag me out of the castle whether I willed it or not.

“Cécile got Gran to do a spell to make her forget your name.”

That
caught my attention, although I didn’t let her know it. Was it the truth? Maybe. Cécile had been clear in her desire to unknow it, but I’d quietly refused to entertain that option. I’d wanted her to have the failsafe, because while it was one thing to curb my urge to go running to her whenever
I
believed she was in danger, it was quite another to ignore her call for my help. That, I’d never intended to do. No matter what the risk. But now there was no way for me to know the difference.

Unless Joss was lying.

“That’s fascinating, but I’m rather busy at the moment,” I said. “Perhaps you might find another place to linger.”

“I see,” she said, her face turning bright red. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Waiting until she was out of earshot, I turned to Souris. “Care to go for a walk?”

The dog stayed close to my heels as we trailed Josette through the castle. She continually cast furtive glances over her shoulder, confirming my suspicion she was up to no good. Exiting through a door in the kitchen, she meandered through the outbuildings in the direction of the wall, which Marc and Fred appeared to have manned with half the soldiers at their disposal.

She paused next to the narrow stairs leading to the battlements, but instead of going up, scurried beneath them. The space was full of building material – blocks of stone and sacks of sand – that, judging from the layer of dust coating them, had languished there for some time. Josette squeezed between them, her feet briefly sticking out, and then she disappeared from sight.

Curious, I ducked under the stairs, shifting the materials slightly to reveal a small opening that had been eroded under the wall, probably by the river flooding. Even if I’d been inclined to do so, it was too small for me to fit through. But Josette’s slender frame had clearly managed the task. “The rat has found a hole,” I said. Or more accurately, had been told where to find the hole, given that, to my knowledge, she’d never been to this place.

Souris growled and wove between my feet, lips pulled back to reveal his fangs.

Dropping to my hands and knees, I lowered my head into the opening – careful not to pass the iron barrier above me – and I listened.

“He’s still under the spell,” Joss whispered, and I motioned Souris to be silent so that I could better hear. “From what I’ve heard, all he does is sit in the council chambers with his game and that dog. He speaks to no one, and that the entire city hasn’t fallen into chaos is all thanks to Marc arriving when he did.”

“It will not last,” a woman said, her voice melodious and soothing. “Magic fades. It is the way of these things.”

“But what if it doesn’t fade in time?” Joss’s voice cracked. “You showed me what Roland’s done so far. All those people dead. How many more will die while we sit around waiting?”

“A valid fear.” The Winter Queen’s voice was morose. “Mortal lives are already brief – to see them cut short is no doubt heart-wrenching.”

I shook my head at Joss’s inability to see through the fairy’s false sentiments.

“Isn’t there anything you can do to stop Roland?” Joss asked. “You’re a queen, an immortal. Surely…”

A heavy sigh. “Not alone, I’m afraid. The trolls are an abomination, Josette. An unintended outcome that should never have been allowed to live. They are too powerful, and far, far too dangerous. I fear humanity is in grave danger.”

“All because of my sister.”

The Queen made a tutting noise. “Now, now. Amongst the three powers, Tristan alone desires to protect your kind, and your sister knows that. But he has colored her mind against an alliance.”

“But why?”

“An ancient animosity exists between his family’s court and mine,” she said. “One he seems unable to set aside. One that keeps him from seeing that my assistance will secure his victory over his enemies, and that will ensure the survival of humanity.”

“Couldn’t you just tell me where the Duke is?” Joss asked, her tone pleading. “Maybe then he’d see your intentions were good.”

“I’ve told you why.” Winter’s voice was chilly, her patience for providing explanations to a sixteen year-old human, I suspected, growing thin. “If I give him the information he desires, with what will I negotiate for the safety of my court? I wish to see humanity triumph, but above all, I must protect my kind from his. Do you understand?”

“Ah,” I murmured, patting Souris on the head, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. Since the mountain had fallen and Anushka had cursed the trolls, my uncle, the Summer King, had been working to keep us alive, especially in recent years. Winter, on the other hand, had been content to see us contained, sending the sluag to our world to trouble us, though it meant they’d be as trapped as we were. As mortal as we were. She wanted the trolls destroyed, because she believed, if freed, we’d be a threat to her court. How that was the case, I did not know, but what mattered was that now I understood why she wanted an alliance.

She wanted to use my magic to destroy my kind once and for all.

My guts twisted as I pictured how she would do it, helping me kill my father, my brother, Angoulême, and everyone else with the power to stand in my way. Then she’d use my debt to force me to slaughter every other troll alive.

“I understand, my lady,” Joss whispered, pulling me from my thoughts. “What do you want me to do?”

“We must lure him out,” Winter said. “And there is only one way to do that. He must believe your sister’s life is in danger.”

“I don’t want Cécile hurt.” There was an edge to Joss’s voice.

“Of course you don’t,” Winter replied, her voice soothing. “She needn’t be in true jeopardy – it’s her fear that will lure him out. Her life will be in no danger from me.”

“But will he care?”

“If we time it correctly. You must watch him, look for signs the magic is fading. Then I will move.”

I listened to their plan until one of the guards heard voices and called down, sending Joss scampering back through her hole and into the castle.

Tucking my shivering dog inside my coat, I watched her go, breathing in the cool night air as I thought. Knowing what she intended, there were ways to protect myself. Ways to prevent her from using me to slaughter my people. But that would mean my debt remained, and I was tired of it hanging over my head. I wanted it called due, but on my terms.

I turned in the direction of Trollus, letting the game expand in my mind. I’d set aside the problem of my father in the belief I could do nothing about him until I’d dealt with Winter, but I might have been wrong about that. She was trying to use me, but if I played this right, I might be able to turn the tables. Controlling my magic was Winter’s goal.

And maybe it was time to give her what she wanted.

T
urning
the lantern down so that barely a flicker of flame remained, I set it in a rocky alcove to wait for my return; then, clinging to what handholds I could find, I crept lower. With every move, bits of rock and debris broke free to pour out the tunnel, but at least the sound covered up my labored breathing and the racket of my heart.

“Almost there, almost there,” I whispered, then I heard voices.

“Curses! There’s another one!”

I froze. Several trolls were approaching the tunnel opening.

“Go report that there’s another sluag in the city,” one of them said, and boots thudded rapidly against the ground as another went to do his bidding.

“Blasted creatures. Never known them to be so aggressive about trying to get in.”

A ball of light floated past me, and I swallowed a gasp of panic. Shifting my position, I wedged into a bend and held my breath. Seconds later, a head and shoulders appeared beneath me as one of the trolls climbed into the tunnel. My arms and legs trembled from the effort of holding myself up, and I was certain he’d hear my heart hammering, turn his head, and see me. But he swiftly retreated.

“Came through recently,” he said to his companion. “Reeks.”

“Close it up – last thing we need is to make it easier for them to get their next meal.”

My heart leapt out of my chest, and I desperately tried to inch my way back up the tunnel before one of them brought it down on my head. Then bells began to ring.

“The miners will deal with it later. Go, go!” Boots pounded away, and not a second too soon. The narrow ledge I was balanced on collapsed beneath me, and I skidded down the rest of the tunnel and tumbled out into Trollus.

My trousers were torn and my knees bleeding, but I didn’t pause to examine my injuries. I ran. The sluag’s tunnel had let me out in the Elysium quarter, not far from where Tristan had set me down when I’d come in through the moon hole. Bearings in check, I sprinted through the streets, not worrying about anyone recognizing me in the chaos.

“Sluag, sluag!” Trolls were running in every direction, some carrying heavy spears, while others seemed more interested in taking cover. Troll-lights flickered, then went out, and screams filled the air.

I skidded down one flight of stairs and then the next, less concerned about taking the most direct route to the library than I was of staying ahead of the darkness biting at my heels.

And the sluag in Elysium wasn’t alone. Across the river, there were three more pools of blackness moving through the streets. How many sluag were in Trollus, and why had they all of a sudden become so aggressive?

“Move!”

I stumbled sideways, nearly falling into a fountain as four guards stormed up the steps, spears in hand. Seconds later, the screams of a sluag filled the air.
So close. Too close.
I couldn’t help but wonder if the creatures knew I was here. Whether they were hunting me in particular.

The great columns of the library reared up ahead, troll-light burning comfortingly in the crystal sconces to either side of the entrance. But I couldn’t go in that way. The librarians were not typically confrontational, but neither did they allow just anyone to wander their stacks. Instead, I crept around to a small entrance at the rear that I’d used in the past.

It was locked.

Swearing a streak that would’ve made Tristan proud, I reached up to retrieve a hairpin, realizing only as my fingers brushed my newly shortened curls that there were none to be had. I touched the dagger at my belt, debating whether I could use it to break the lock. Bells were still echoing through the cavern, which in combination with the waterfall, would surely drown out the noise.

Extracting the blade, I slid the tip into the mechanism and then slammed my weight against it. Metal ground against metal, but when I tried to turn the knife, nothing happened.

The sound of voices drifted toward me. It was another patrol. Grabbing hold of the hilt with both hands, I tried to remove the blade, but it was stuck.

I heaved and hauled for all I was worth, but I was out of time. Just as the patrol rounded the corner, I dived off the side of the staircase and into the shadows.

“It’s as though the blasted things knew what we were planning,” one of the guards said, spitting into the gutter. “Has to be a dozen of them in the city, if not more.”

“They’ll all be in the city if the miners guild doesn’t speed along the process,” another replied.

“It’s not the miners, it’s the builders,” a third chimed in. “Seems there’s some concern about the strain it’ll put on the tree, and half of them are tied up with finishing the construction.”

“Waste of time, that,” the first said. “No point to it other than to free Tristan from that folly of a promise. Looks like the old devil has a soft spot for his son, after all.”

They all laughed, then one added, “Wouldn’t be our problem if the King would open the gates. Five centuries of captivity and we finally get our freedom only to have to hide in the same old hole for the sake of a feud between royals.”

“Do you want to be caught between Tristan and Roland?” the first asked, but however the other two responded was drowned out by a series of booms.

I cowered next to the steps, eyes on the darkness above as I waited for the rocks to start falling. For Trollus to be destroyed, everyone killed, and me along with them.

But other than a shower of tiny pebbles and dust, nothing happened.

“Hope no one was still in the labyrinth,” one of the guards laughed, but there was a slight shake to his voice. “Will be strange not to see the occasional trader coming through that gate. End of an era.”

“End of an era,” the others repeated, and then they moved on.

It hit me then what had happened. Whether it had been to stop the sluag or prevent anyone from leaving, the trolls had collapsed the labyrinth. And I’d lost my escape route.

My stomach hollowed and I struggled to keep the sharp edges of panic from cutting too deep. I’d find another way, and if not, I still had friends in Trollus. If I needed to, I could hide in the city while we figured out a way for me to escape. But in the meantime, I’d risked everything coming here for information, and I refused to leave empty-handed.

Cautiously sticking my head out from the shadows, I checked to make sure the guards were gone, and then I turned my attention to my dagger, which was still jammed in the door. Getting in the library that way wasn’t going to happen. Neither, frankly, was getting anywhere other than the shadows I was crouched in. Trollus had been locked down, everyone but the King’s guards and those tasked with hunting down the sluag was hidden behind doors.

I shifted my weight on the sewer grate beneath me, cursing the sluag, Angoulême, the King, and most of all myself. I was going to be stuck here until curfew was lifted.

Water sloshed beneath me, a foul smell rising, and I buried my face in my sleeve.
Could things get any worse?
Then an idea occurred to me, and I looked down.

An elaborate network of sewers ran beneath Trollus; every structure – even those in the Dregs – connected to the system. The trolls had little tolerance for filth, and, as such, the crown had a small army of half-bloods that kept the system clean and in working order, living their lives in the tunnels that their betters barely acknowledged existed. And if they could move around down there, so could I.

Easing open the latch holding the grate shut, I lifted the metal bars, silently thanking whoever had recently oiled the hinges. Then I lay on my stomach and peered inside.

The sewer was perhaps six feet in diameter, a stream of water and waste running down the center of it. But while I’d expected total blackness, the space was dimly lit by lamps fastened to the ceiling. Holding onto the edge of the hole, I lowered myself in, dropping the last bit to land with my feet on either side of the malodorous stream. The library latrine was located at the rear of the building, and sure enough, I only had to go a few dozen paces before I encountered a shaft leading upwards.

As I suspected, it was large enough, albeit barely, for me to fit, and I could see the trap door covering the top. Unfortunately, the shaft was coated with filth.

Until this moment, I’d have said that growing up on a pig farm had stripped away any squeamishness I’d been born with, but staring into that foul space, I was sorely tempted to go back the way I’d came. But lives depended on me finding out where Angoulême was hidden, and if saving them meant wallowing in troll shit, then I’d do it.

Pulling off my cloak, I used it to wipe away as much of the waste as I could reach; then, taking a deep a breath that nearly turned into a retch, I wriggled into the shaft.

It was awful, and for every six inches of progress, I slid an inch back, my boots scraping against the slimy stone. The smell made me dizzy, my heart pounding as I contemplated what would happen if I became stuck. But after what seemed an eternity, my fingers knocked against the trap, flipping it open. Fresh air filtered down, and I gasped in a few mouthfuls before taking a firm grip on the edge and pulling myself out. I landed with a soft thud on the polished floor, and I fumbled around in the darkness until I found the basin of wash water and toweling, using them to wipe the worst of the filth off my hands and face.

Inching open the door, I checked to make sure there was no one nearby, then hurried into the depths of the stacks. From the time I’d spent here searching for information on Anushka, I was vaguely familiar with the layout, and I trotted in the direction of the estate histories, hoping to find something on the Angoulême lands dating back before the curse. Keeping my smelly fingers to myself, I walked up and down the rows, taking in title after title even as my heart sank. The information might well be here, but it would take me days, if not weeks, to find it by myself.

“I know you’re here, you cursed creature.”

I leapt at the muttered words, spinning in a circle as I tried to figure out where they were coming from.

“I can smell you. And if you think you can dine on my books, you are sorely mistaken. Ah hah!” A troll leapt out from behind a stack, sluag spear in hand.

I stumbled backward, holding up my hands. “Martin, stop!”

The spear froze in midair, only a few inches from my face.

“Who are you?” Light blossomed, and I heard his sharp intake of breath. “Princess? What are you doing here? And why do you smell like–”

“I sneaked in through the sewer.”

His jaw dropped. “And you’ve been touching the books?”

“I cleaned my hands,” I said. “Martin, you mustn’t tell anyone I’m here. If the King were to capture me, it would be disastrous.” Even as the words poured out, I realized that I’d no idea where the librarian’s loyalties lay, or if he even looked up from his books enough to care.

“And you’ve come here with an interest in estates?” His voice was hard. “Looking to settle down already?”

I shook my head. “We’re trying to find Angoulême. We know he’s…” I trailed off, the expression on his face making me step back. Timid and bookish he might be, but Martin was still a troll. It was well within his power to harm me. And in his mind, I might deserve it, given what had happened to the girl he loved.

“I’m so sorry about Élise,” I whispered. “She was my friend, and she died saving my life.”

Silence.

“Do you know what he did to her?” Each word was torn from his throat. “He locked her in a box, then paraded it though the city so we could all hear her screams. Until we couldn’t any more.” His hand went to a shelf for balance, knocking several volumes to the floor. “I tried to help her, but I wasn’t strong enough. Duchesse Sylvie and the Queen did nothing. The King did nothing.”

Tears ran down my cheeks. “I can’t bring her back, but I can offer you a chance for revenge against the Duke, because as soon as we find him, we’re going to kill him.”

He stared at his feet for long enough that I wondered if he were waiting for me to leave. Wondered if maybe my promises seemed empty, because they were powerless to undo the hurt he’d endured. When he finally moved, I flinched, but he only reached inside his robes to pull out a slender vial hanging from a silver chain. The contents glowed a faint blue, and I immediately knew what it was: Élixir de la Lune.

“Tristan promised her that once he was king that he’d allow anyone to be bonded, not just full-bloods,” Martin said. “But I didn’t want to take the chance that he’d…”

I wondered what had been his concern. That Tristan would find a way around his promise or that he wouldn’t become king?

Before I could ask he added, “So I sneaked into the garden and stole a vial of the Élixir. I convinced Élise to use it on next full moon–” his eyes flicked to mine “–the night you broke the curse. But she was dead by then.”

I opened my mouth to apologize, but no sound came out.

“Even if Tristan wins and delivers on his word,” he said, “it’s too late for us. I should get rid of this blasted potion.” He tugged on the chain. “It’s useless now.”

Before he could break the links, I caught his hand in mine and squeezed it tight. “It’s not. Please keep it. It meant something to her, and it would’ve broken her heart to see you throw it away.”

“It’s useless,” he repeated. “Angoulême took her away before I had the chance to know her – to truly know her.”

“I understand, but maybe one day–” I started to say that he might one day meet another girl he loved just as much, but instead said, “Maybe one day it will give someone else a chance.”

“Maybe.” He was silent for a long moment, then he tucked the vial back in his robes. “I’ll do whatever it takes to see that monster of a duke bleed out, just as his daughter did. How can I help? What do you need to know?”

I explained to him the only clue we had, and he swiftly moved amongst the shelves, withdrawing several books that he laid open on a table. “These were the Angoulême lands,” he said, tracing the outline of an area on the other side of the Isle. “Their estate was here, but the castle and all the surrounding property was destroyed after the Fall.” He shook his head. “Everything was. The humans wanted no part of our legacy to remain, and while there might be ruins of some of the larger structures, of a surety, no portraiture would have survived intact.”