Heartless (18 page)

16

He stepped onto the Old Bridge, and the great shadows of his wings folded around him, and she saw that he wasn’t a dragon. He was a man, and the wings were a long black cloak. His skin was white, white without life, like a thin gauze overlying deeper darkness. His eyes were onyx stones, but within the blackness of each stone shone red fire.

Una choked on her scream and stood with her hands pressed to her throat. She swallowed, and her chest heaved as though she’d held her breath a long while.

The man with the white face smiled, one corner of his mouth turning up before the other, and revealed beneath his lips long, black teeth. He stepped across the bridge, his tall boots knocking hollowly on the wooden planks.

“Hello, Una,” he repeated.

“Who are you?” she gasped. Her feet were as if rooted to the ground.

His chuckle was deep and smooth as a cat’s purr. “Oh, Una, you know me.”

She swallowed again, and her breath rattled her lungs. He drew nearer, the smile still twisting the lower half of his face. His shadow, great as a tree’s, fell over her like nightfall. His hair was black against his white, white face and seemed to wave and twine about his temples like flames. The air around her thickened, and her hands tightened on her own throat. Una could feel the burns sharp as knife wounds across her fingers.

His smile broadened. “Yes,” he said, showing all his black teeth. “I have waited a long time for this. You have the right fire, haven’t you? It is well I won the game.”

She tried to speak, but her tongue pressed uselessly against clenched teeth.

He leaned forward. She felt the heat of him and thought her face would burn. His lips drew together, and his face neared hers.

In the last possible moment before she suffocated, Una jerked her head away. She drew in gulps of cool night air and rubbed her neck where her fingernails had dug into her skin.

The man with the white face took a step back and licked his lips.

“Pardon me,” he said, his voice velvety soft. “I see you are not yet ready. Invite me to your home.”

Her voice scraped painfully through her throat. “I don’t want you in my home.”

“You do,” he said. “Invite me to your home.”

“No.” Una felt the boil of tears in her eyes.

“Invite me to your home, Una.”

She pressed her hands to her mouth, but tears spilled over and scalded her fingers.

“Una.”

“Will you come home to supper?” Una asked.

“Good girl,” the man with the white face said.

Nurse was in the garden looking for Una. “By Bebo’s crown, girl, where have you been?” she cried when Una stepped into the light of the garden lamps on the arm of the man with the white face. Nurse started when she noticed him. “Who in the – Oh!”

She gasped and drew back, her hands held out before her.

“Good evening,” the man said, smiling. “Is the family already at supper?”

Nurse nodded. Una could not look at her but fixed her gaze on her boots instead.

“Good,” the man said. “We shall join them. I have an invitation to dine. Lead us there.”

“Princess?” Nurse spoke in a small, trembling voice.

“Do as he says,” Una whispered.

Nurse led them to the door and held it for them. Una, her arm looped through the man’s elbow, felt held as though by an iron chain. She did not try to resist his pull.

Monster lurked just inside and trilled a greeting at his mistress but froze still as a statue save for the tip of his nose twitching on his blind face. Suddenly his lips drew back in a snarling hiss. He arched his back and screeched a hideous caterwaul, then darted away up the hall, his tail bristling behind him as he fled.

The man with the white face smiled down at Una. “Handsome cat,” he said. “Strange he has no eyes. Perhaps he could do without other things as well?”

She shook her head, her face pleading.

He laughed, patted her hand, and escorted her after Nurse to the dining room.

Only the king and the young prince were at the table that evening, seated in the glow of tall taper candles. Nurse bobbed a curtsy to them when she opened the door before scuttling off into a corner, where she crouched like a hunted animal.

“Ah, Una,” Fidel said when his daughter entered. “I was wondering – ” His voice died when he saw upon whose arm she hung.

“Good evening, Your Majesty,” the man with the white face said, bowing deeply. “Your daughter has invited me to dine.”

A candle sputtered.

The king’s wine glass shattered on the floor.

Fidel grabbed a carving knife and lunged at the man.

Quick as thought, the man grabbed Fidel’s wrist, twisted him around, and slammed him facedown into the table. Plates and cutlery fell and smashed. Felix leapt to his feet, shouting, “Guards!”

The man with the white face silenced him with a look. Felix fell back in his chair, his mouth shaped in a silent scream even as footsteps sounded in the hall. Guards burst into the room.

“Stay back,” the man with the white face said, turning slowly on the ten armed men who crowded the doorway.

He smiled, and they fell away, one of them crying, “Heaven shield us!”

“Well, Your Majesty,” the man with the white face said, leaning down to whisper in the king’s ear. “That wasn’t very friendly of you.”

“Monster!” the king barked. “Demon!” Wine from an overturned cup ran into his beard, staining his face like blood.

“Sticks and stones, dear king,” the man laughed. His grip on Fidel’s wrist tightened until the king’s fingers went blue and he dropped his knife. The man in the black cloak hauled him upright and turned him to face his guards, who shifted and growled, hands on their weapons. “Everyone out,” the man said, glancing at Felix.

The prince staggered to his feet. “No,” he said weakly. “Release my – ”

“Out, boy, and take the old woman with you,” the man said, chuckling deep in his throat. “Do you think you won’t obey me?”

Felix swayed, his eyes rolling in his head. “Father?” he gasped.

“Go, son,” the king said, sagging in the man’s grasp. “Go on.”

Felix took one unsteady step, then another. Then he ran to Nurse, dragging her up by the elbow and out of the room.

“Guards next,” the man with the white face said, his voice smooth and pleasant. “If you would be so kind?” He took a step toward them, the king held before him. One by one, the guards backed from the room, each one gasping as though great weights pressed on his lungs.

“Come, Una,” the man said, turning to the princess, who stood with her back pressed to the wall, her hands over her face. “Take my arm. We’re going for a stroll.”

King Fidel roared and struggled, but the man in the black cloak tightened his grip still more until the bones of the king’s wrist were close to snapping. “No fuss,” the man said. “Come, Una.”

She slipped her hand through his elbow.

The three of them, thus linked, followed the guards, Felix, and Nurse down the corridor to the great entrance hall of the castle. There most of the household was already gathered – lords, ladies, and servants alike – looking at each other in quiet puzzlement, like people in a dream, none knowing why the others were there. A little maid saw the entourage from the dining room – first the prince and Nurse, then the guards, then the king gripped by the man with the white face. She screamed and collapsed against a footman in a dead faint.

The man with the white face looked upon them all. Then he spoke a single word. “Out.”

The hall filled with screams. Men and women tore and scratched at each other as they streamed through the great doors out into the yard and gardens, rushing as one body for the gates. Even the guards followed. Una lost sight of Felix and Nurse.

Soon the three of them – the man, the king, and the princess – were alone.

The man with the white face flung the king to the floor. Moaning, Fidel pushed himself to his knees, but the man kicked him down. Una cried out and tried to run to her father, but the man put out a hand, blocking her. Una grabbed the hand and bit into it, and animal sounds snarled in her throat. The man looked at her and laughed, shaking her off as if she were a small kitten. She tried to leap at him again, but a single glance froze her in place.

The man with the white face turned back to Fidel, crouched on his hands and knees. “Out,” the man said. “Follow your people.” He stepped forward, and Fidel, still on his knees, crawled back. “I don’t need to kill you,” the man said, “as long as you do as you’re told.”

The king crawled backward all the way to the threshold, unable to tear his eyes from the man’s shadowed face. Once Fidel was outside, the man with the white face allowed him to rise to his feet.

“Una,” the king cried, holding out his hands, the one blackened and bruised.

“She stays with me,” the man said, stepping outside into the courtyard. Night wind grabbed his cloak and flared it out behind him.

“Never!” Fidel started forward but fell away as a burst of flame billowed toward his face.

The black cloak expanded, swelling like storm clouds into vast wings. The man raised his hands, and they were talons, cruel and curved. The red in his eyes swirled and swelled until it engulfed the blackness in raging heat. Fire spilled from his mouth, and he grew and towered over the king, high as three stories, reptilian scales gleaming in the glow of his own fire. Fidel screamed and fell on his face. The Dragon’s roaring laugh lashed the sky.

“She stays with me,” he said, “as a testimony of your good faith not to trouble me with armies and battles! Burnt human flesh sours good air. Go now, little king. I’ll let you know my good pleasure in time. Be prompt in obedience. Go!”

The king fled through the gates in a cloud of foul smoke and fumes.

The Dragon turned on Una, who hung on the door, all but fainting. Great red eyes pierced her own, gazing deeper and deeper, until she thought her spirit and soul were consumed in fire.

But somewhere deep in the recesses of her heart, something remained unburned. She grasped at it, gasping with the effort. The Dragon leaned closer, flames licking through his teeth, and she collapsed on her knees. Yet a small knot of peace lingered beyond the flames, cool and unsoiled. She took hold of it in her mind, clutching it close.

“He will come,” she whispered.

The Dragon drew back his head, and she slumped against the doorpost, her hair falling to cover her reddened face.

“Ah,” the Dragon said. “I see.” Smoke poured from his nostrils. “Very well. You’ll be ready in time.” He turned away, his tail sliding against her, knocking her back into the palace, and he crawled into the darkness of the garden, lighting the way with flames in the leafless stems and shrubs. “Go to your room, little mouthful,” he called over his shoulder. “We shall see much of each other, but for now you may retire.”

Una crawled inside and, with a last great effort, shut the door.

17

Caught up in the flow of people streaming through the gate, Felix struggled to break free, determined not to be separated from his father and sister. He lost hold of Nurse somewhere in the crush and could not find her again. He was helpless, pulled against his will down the road away from the palace and toward Sondhold. Nearly halfway down the hill, he spotted an opening in the crowd and darted for it. He broke from the swarm, tumbling off the road into a ditch. Mud spattered his face and thorns bit his hands, but he breathed in relief.

Shaking his head and pushing back thorns, he sat upright and tried to take stock of his surroundings. Screams battered the air around him, and he realized that they did not come only from those fleeing the palace.

Stumbling, he climbed out of the ditch and up the rough hillside until he found a large boulder projecting from the ground. Pulling himself up on top, Felix owned a view of both the palace above him and the city spread out below.

The city was in flames.

Felix felt his heart in his throat and thought it might choke him. Sondhold was under attack. Even in the harbor he could see ships’ masts burning like torches. And what of Ramgrip, the old fortress built long ago to protect the city? All was dark there, cast into shadow under the glare of the fire in the city.

But who would attack Parumvir? They were at peace with all the surrounding kingdoms, had been for over a hundred years. Fidel had no enemies, couldn’t possibly have them.

“Father,” Felix whispered, gazing at the burning city, hearing sounds of terror that chilled him to the bone. He felt very young and very small.

Steeling himself, he leapt from the boulder and tumbled to the rough turf. He was on his feet in a moment and running toward the palace as fast as his legs could bear him. He needed to find his father.

The white walls seemed ghostly in the evening as he pounded uphill toward them. His steps slowed unwillingly, for a terror hitherto unknown rose in his breast as he neared those familiar walls. It was most like fear of the dark; a fear not of what the darkness could hide, but of everything the dark represented and the very absence of light. This was the sensation that coursed in his veins, filling him with dread as he approached his home.

In the darkness above the wall he saw suddenly two balls of fire that shredded the night sky with wicked light. Realizing that they were eyes, Felix threw himself on the ground. Horror gripped him as he cowered on the hillside, certain those eyes had seen him, certain he would be devoured.

But nothing happened.

At last he found the strength to raise his head to look. The eyes were gone. He crawled forward again, pulled himself to his feet, and made himself continue to climb.
I must find Father!
The urgent thought repeated in his head with each step, and he focused on it, trying not to think of the eyes.

Smoke drifted in the air down the hillside – dragon smoke.

“Father!” Felix called, his voice faint with terror but determined. He was near the gate now, which stood open wide. His gaze darted over the road for any sign of the king.

A body lay just off the road, a lump in the shadows only a few yards from the gate.

Felix sucked in a sharp breath and rushed to it. “Father!” Felix grabbed the king by the shoulders and rolled him over. Fidel was not only alive but still conscious, though his breath came uneasily as fumes thickened the air around them.

“Una,” he moaned.

Casting desperate glances over his shoulder, terrified that the awful eyes would appear again at any moment, Felix helped his father to his feet. The prince had not yet come into his manly size, but he pulled Fidel’s arm over his bony shoulders and, supporting him as best he could, started down the hill away from the palace.

“Una,” the king moaned again.

“Shhh, Father,” Felix pleaded.

“Is that you, Felix?”

“Yes, Father.”

“We must save Una.” Fidel struggled to stand on his own. He collapsed and nearly brought the boy down with him. Felix clenched his teeth and used all his strength to keep them both upright. His father was near fainting, and Felix didn’t know what he would do if Fidel lost consciousness. He had not the strength to carry the king on his own.

“Come, Father,” he said, murmuring encouraging words as he half carried Fidel down the hill and off the road. The rough terrain was difficult to traverse in the dark, and more than once Felix thought they would tumble headlong.

Felix recognized the boulder he had climbed before. He gently leaned his father against it. “I’ll be right back,” he said and scrambled up once more.

The flames in the city rose higher, particularly in the western quarter. People streamed out of it on all sides, fleeing into the surrounding countryside. Torches flashed at the bottom of the hill road. Dark figures were approaching.

Felix leapt down, praying he had not been spotted. He crawled to his father and put his arms around him, desperately trying to think. Where were their guards? Where could they go? Questions swirled in his head, but no answers came.

“You’re trembling,” Fidel said, his voice frail. “What’s wrong?”

Felix did not like to answer when his father was so weak, but he did not know what else to do. “The city is under attack,” he whispered, feeling guilty as he spoke, as though he were confessing a crime. “Men with weapons are coming this way.”

Fidel growled and struggled to his feet, shaking off Felix’s protesting hands. He looked around the boulder, clutching it for support. What he saw confirmed Felix’s words, and he hissed curses through clenched teeth.

Felix hurried to put an arm around his father. The dark figures on the road had already covered half the distance between them. The prince could only hope they had not been seen.

“We must make for Ramgrip,” Fidel whispered. “General Argus will have mustered the men by now if the fort is not taken.”

“But how can we?” Felix asked. “Whoever that is coming up the hill, they’re between us and the fort, and it’s at least three miles to Ramgrip.”

“Courage, son,” Fidel said. “Argus will try to find me, but we must get off this hill. Come, help me.”

Felix and his father skulked into the shadows far off the road, making their way down the southern side of Goldstone Hill. Goldstone Wood loomed near, and Felix feared his father would insist they take shelter under those dark trees. Fidel’s breath came in labored gasps, and Felix found himself bearing more and more of his father’s weight. The king teetered on the brink of unconsciousness.

“Mreeeow?”

Felix gasped and nearly lost his grip on the king. A slinky form emerged from the darkness and wrapped around his ankles.

“Monster!” Felix muttered. “Dragons eat you, cat. Go away!” He kicked the blind cat from between his feet. Monster came back and continued rubbing and purring frantically. Felix scowled at him. “Fine,” he hissed. “You can come. But don’t think I’m going to coddle you, creature.”

The cat ran ahead a few steps, looked back and meowed, then slipped away into the darkness only to appear again at Felix’s feet a moment later. “I’m not following you,” Felix muttered. “You’re blind, stupid.”

“Mreaaa!” the cat squawked and sank a set of dagger-like claws into Felix’s leg.

“Mreaa, yourself! Dragons eat – ” Felix stopped, ground his teeth, then kicked again. The cat dodged as easily as though it could see him. It continued to pace back and forth, leading the way and looping back to make certain the prince was still coming. And Felix, rather to his disgust, realized that as he followed the cat, he found better footing in the dark.

The sounds of pursuit drew closer. Felix looked back to see torches flashing just beyond an outcrop of rocks. He saw a thicket of bushes not far ahead and made for it as fast as he could with his burden. Unable to be gentle in his haste, he dropped his father to the ground. The king moaned, and Felix winced but continued his hurried actions.

Pushing his father, he whispered, “Crawl into the bushes, quick.” He could hear men’s voices calling to each other, so close. “Hurry, Father!” His heart raced, and he felt he would be sick.

Don’t think,
he told himself.
Don’t think!

“Felix?” the king called feebly, but too late.

Felix sprang away from the thicket, running and leaping until he was several yards away. He jumped onto a boulder and shouted, “Here! Here! Over here!” waving his arms in the dark.

Three tall figures with torches turned his way. Felix leapt from the boulder and sprinted down the hill away from his father. Shouts followed him.

“Is that the prince?”

“Prince Felix! Your Highness!”

Don’t think!
Felix half ran and half fell in the dark down the hillside.

Two more figures appeared suddenly in his path, but his momentum was too great to turn aside. He fell into their arms, struggling and kicking, unable to free himself.

“Prince Felix?” a deep voice asked. “Is that you?”

“Let me go!” he shouted hopelessly.

“If that’s you, Your Highness,” the speaker said, “we are the king’s men.”

“Liars!” Felix cried.

“Indeed not, prince,” the speaker insisted, quickly pulling back a hand when Felix tried to bite. “I am Captain Durand. General Argus sent me and my men to find you, your father, and the princess. Argus is holding the duke’s men off at the base of the hill, but we are gravely outmatched. We must get you away from here.”

Running footsteps told Felix that his three pursuers were catching up. Even so, he settled down in his captors’ grasp. “The duke?” he asked, panting.

“The Duke of Shippening,” Captain Durand said. “He has attacked Sondhold in full force without warning. We are undermanned at Ramgrip. General Argus will not keep him from the palace long. Where is your father, prince? We met many people fleeing from the palace, but they could give us no word of the king.”

A shout interrupted whatever answer Felix may have given. Five horsemen rode up. By the torchlight, Felix could see that one of the riders supported King Fidel in front of him. The king clung weakly to the pommel of the saddle, but his eyes glittered when they fell on Felix.

“Bring him to me,” he commanded, his voice quavering.

Durand and the other soldier holding Felix’s arms escorted him to his father. The king took hold of the front of Felix’s shirt and, with surprising strength, lifted him to his toes. He glared fiercely into Felix’s eyes.

“Don’t you ever try to save me again,” he growled, his voice tight with anger. “I will not have you risk your life for me. Understand?”

Felix swallowed hard and nodded. Fidel let him go and sagged back into the arms of the rider.

“Give him a horse,” Durand said. One of the five horsemen dismounted and hoisted Felix into the saddle in his place. “Ride to the garrison in Dompstead,” the captain said. “General Argus will join you there as soon as he can. I fear we will be forced from Sondhold before the night is through.”

Fidel rallied himself one last time. “Una?” he breathed.

“Do not fear, Your Majesty,” Captain Durand said. “We’ll find your daughter.”

Without another word the horsemen started down the hill at a trot. Felix clung to the horse’s mane, but the beast seemed fairly sure-footed in the dark.

“Mreeeow?”

The prince heard the small cry and pulled his horse up short before he’d ridden ten paces.

“Your Highness,” Captain Durand said. “What are you – ”

Ignoring the captain, Felix leapt from the saddle. Monster materialized from the night at his ankles. He scooped the cat up, draped him over his shoulder, and scrambled back into the saddle. Monster’s claws dug painfully into his shoulder, but Felix didn’t care. He urged the horse to catch up with the others, holding on to the cat with one hand.