Slight and Shadow (Fate's Forsaken: Book Two) (35 page)

“We can’t let the spellmonger see Brend — they’ll take him to the castle!” someone hissed, and Kael realized that the whole team had gathered around them, staring worriedly at Brend. A crowd of giants would surely catch Hob’s attention.

“Get back to work and try to act like nothing’s happened,” Kael said quickly. He sent one giant after some herbs from the garden and then left for the water troughs at an all-out sprint.

Hob was closer, but he thought charging the wagon would only raise more suspicions. He went from one barn to the next, searching frantically for something to carry the water in. He found an old bucket tossed out in the grass and could hardly believe his luck. When he tried to fill it, he discovered immediately why it had been thrown away: several large holes had been worn into its bottom, and they spat the water out nearly as quickly as he could fill it.

He plugged what he could with his fingers and held the bucket at an angle, keeping most of the water trapped inside. He moved at a trot and kept his steps smooth, trying not to slosh any of the water out. When he finally returned to the vegetable patch, he saw that the giants were clumped together again.

He swore.

“I told you to spread out,” he hollered at them. “You have to listen …”

But his words trailed away when a few of the giants stepped aside, and he saw that it wasn’t Brend they were hunched over: it was Declan.

Three giants had fallen on him, plastering him to the ground with their bodies. He roared and squirmed against their hold, nearly breaking free. Two more giants had to jump in to keep him pinned down. His eyes were a deep, furious black.

At first, Kael didn’t grasp it. “What happened?” He glanced everywhere for Brend, but couldn’t see him. Then he saw the dust cloud rising from the road, saw Hob and the wagon heading straight for the castle — and with a horror that nearly sank him to his knees, he realized what had happened.

“They’ve taken Brend,” one of the giants said, his eyes heavy with tears. “They’ve taken him to Lord Gilderick!”

*******

It was almost dark before Declan tired himself out. Two giants hauled him back to the barn, holding his arms tightly behind his back. Even though his fury had drained his strength, he still had the energy to yell at them, and he ranted all through dinner.

He called the giants cowards. He said that if the ground was wet tomorrow, it was because their fathers were weeping in their graves. He said that their mothers would be ashamed of them. And the giants took their beating without a word.

They sat sullenly, and none of them took so much as a bite to eat. They slumped over the trough, flinching as if Declan’s words bit through their skin. Several pressed the ratty hems of their shirts to their eyes, but no one spoke up against him.

Once Declan had the giants thoroughly beaten, he went after Kael.

“And
you
, you little rat —!”

“What have I done?” Kael snapped back.

He was just as furious about Brend as anybody else. He should’ve seen that he had a fever, and he should’ve done something about it. Had he not been so worried about his own blasted problems, he might’ve noticed it sooner. Now Brend was gone, locked up somewhere inside the castle — and he couldn’t even send Eveningwing out to find him because the blasted bird had wandered off again!

But screaming at Kael wouldn’t solve anything. There was nothing he could do, now — there was nothing any of them could do. They couldn’t risk trying to sneak into a castle flooded with the guards of two rulers just to try and save one man. It would be folly. They might
all
lose their lives, and still fail to set Brend free.

But even though Kael knew this, it didn’t stop Declan’s words from stinging.

“What have you done? You’ve betrayed him — carved his heart out of his ribs!” Declan bit back his next words, and his face went dangerously smooth. “No, I shouldn’t be blaming you. A rat’s a rat, after all. He looks after his own hide, and he doesn’t trouble himself with anybody else’s. If there’s anyone I ought to be angry with, it’s me.” The shadow left his eyes, and he fixed Kael with a look like stone. “I knew you were a schemer, but I thought you were a decent man. Now I see that I was wrong. I blame myself … I should’ve snapped your filthy neck when I had the chance.”

Kael went numb. He suddenly remembered that day in the wheat fields, when Declan had wanted to take him to the blacksmith to have his scythe fixed. He’d thought that Declan had been acting odd, and now he realized why: it hadn’t been about the blade at all — he’d been trying to get Kael alone.

He’d been planning to kill him.

Declan stared him down. No one else would meet his eyes. And in their silence, he heard the truth. Kael’s head suddenly felt light, as if it’d been filled with a cold, biting wind. He got to his feet and went into the stall without a word.

The night crossed overhead and the stars churned about the sky. Kael lay stiffly through the long hours of darkness, feeling the emptiness of Brend’s pallet beside him. He shut his eyes against the moon’s accusing touch as it drifted somberly through the clouds.

He kept reminding himself that he was doing what had to be done: the life of one man wasn’t worth the lives of all the others. He’d chosen to do the wiser thing.

But wisdom was a sorry friend, that night. It whistled through the hollow of his heart, blowing neither cold nor hot — promising nothing but the chance to escape some greater ruin. And as the hour grew later, what he’d thought to be wisdom suddenly felt a lot like cowardice.

Perhaps Declan had been right about him, after all. Perhaps he
was
a rat.

Just before dawn, rain began to fall. Kael listened dully as it poured through the roof, as the sky shed the tears that he would not. He didn’t move when the stall doors opened: the rain was falling too thickly now, and he knew that Hob would just send them back inside. It was going to be a long, miserable day.

When Eveningwing finally returned, Kael was alone in the stall. The halfhawk listened patiently as he told him what had happened. When he was finished, Eveningwing set out immediately — promising that he would scour the castle grounds for any signs of Brend.

Kael knew there was little hope for him now, and the others seemed to feel the same: the whole barn was eerily silent. The only noise was of Declan as he paced back and forth down the aisle. His quick steps were broken every now and then by a loud
clang
as he punched one of the iron doors. No one seemed to want to be the one to tell him that it was hopeless.

Dinner passed in miserable silence. The giants tried to get Declan to eat something. They stepped into his path and tried to force him to the trough, but he knocked them aside and kept pacing.

It was nearly time for the torches to dim when Eveningwing finally returned. He stumbled out of the stall; his hair dripped wetly onto his bare chest as he fumbled with the buttons of his trousers. When he looked up, Kael saw that his lip was bleeding. And he looked frightened.

“What happened to you?” he said, shoving through the crowd to reach him.

Eveningwing grabbed the front of his shirt. “I searched everywhere. I looked in every window for him. But I didn’t see him. Then I was flying back here and I saw him walking down the path. I flew down to tell him that we were worried — and he struck me.” Eveningwing touched a hand to his lip. Confusion lined his face. “I’m not sure what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Kael assured him quickly. “Where is he now?”

“He’s almost here.”

Eveningwing glanced at the door, and dread began to boil inside Kael’s gut. He tried to prepare himself for what he would see, but when the doors flew open, he still felt the earth drop out from beneath him.

Brend stood in the doorway. His arms hung limply at his sides and his mouth sagged open. He stared vacantly at the far wall. His eyes were fogged over and dulled — all of the glint and the mischief were gone from them … never to return. For Brend was
Brend
no longer:

He was a Fallow.

Chapter 32

Across the Threshold

“Brend!” Declan charged down the aisle and tried to grab him around the shoulders, but Brend was too strong. He jerked himself free with an unintelligible grunt. Then he slugged Declan across the jaw.

The noise it made was like a slab of raw meat striking the tabletop, and Declan went down hard. Brend trudged past him without a second glance, his deadened face pointed for the Fallows’ stall.

One of the giants helped Declan to his feet. “There’s nothing you can do for him — he’s gone.”

But Declan didn’t seem to hear. He stared after Brend, clutching at the thick red knot that had sprung up on the side of his face. Hurt filled his eyes from bottom to top. For a moment, it looked like it might spill over into tears.

Then the torches dimmed, and the hurt vanished — replaced quickly by a determination so fierce and dark that Kael could almost sense what was going to happen next. And he could do nothing to stop it.

Declan tackled Brend from behind. He was still lying flat on his stomach when Declan grabbed him around the ankles and began dragging him backwards. Brend grunted angrily, twisting and flipping like a fish caught on a line. His arms swung back, but he couldn’t seem to figure out how to free himself. And with a mighty heave, Declan chucked him into the stall.

The giants inside bolted out immediately — some fled with bits of their pallets clutched in their arms, diving into the safety of the other stalls. When Brend tried to follow them out, Declan stuffed him back inside with a sharp thrust of his heel.

Kael, who’d been watching the whole thing with no small amount of shock, suddenly felt his feet leave the ground as Declan grabbed him and hurled him into the stall with Brend — who swatted him against the opposite wall.

He watched, dazed, as Brend tried to escape a second time. But Declan shoved him back. Then the doors began to close with a horrifying screech.

“What are you doing?” Kael shouted. “You can’t lock us up in here — he’ll kill us!”

“No, because you’re going to fix him,” Declan replied, kicking Brend backwards. When the door had closed enough that Brend couldn’t escape, Declan tackled him again, this time wrapping an arm around his throat.

Kael saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Eveningwing slide in at the last moment. “No — get out of here!”

But it was too late. The door shuttered at the end of its track and Kael knew they were trapped — trapped with a roaring, dead-eyed Fallow who would rip them all to shreds the second he was free. He struggled viciously against Declan’s hold and showed no signs of ever tiring, while Declan’s face grew red, and his arms began to tremble with the effort.

“Fix him,” he grunted, tightening his legs around Brend’s.

Kael was furious. He pushed Eveningwing behind him and yelled: “How? How in Kingdom’s name do you expect me to
fix
him? He’s dead, Declan!”

“No he isn’t —”

“Yes, he is! Brend’s gone. He’s not in there anymore — he’s nothing but an empty husk. You said so yours —”

“He’s not dead!” Declan cried. His eyes burned red with desperation, veins bulged from his neck. “He isn’t gone. Not yet. He’s just not right in the head, is all. And that’s why you’re going to fix him. You’re going to get inside his head — just like you did to me. And you’ll bring him back.” He gritted his teeth tightly. The effort sent a tear burning down his cheek. “You know he’s all I’ve got left … he’s my only family. And if you don’t help him,” he choked, glaring, “then I swear we’re all dead men.”

His words were the words of a madman, the last request of a man so stricken by grief that he no longer cared if what he said made any sense. Anybody else would’ve slapped him across the face and told him so. Anybody else would’ve said that what he asked for was impossible — insane, even. But Kael was not like anybody else.

And he thought Declan’s idea might be very possible, indeed.

All at once,
Deathtreader
was in his head, speaking as if he had the book opened in front of him:
I always start with the eyes
, it whispered.
The eyes are ever-open doors … and the secrets of the mind lay just behind them.

Kael looked at Brend’s eyes. They were empty and lolling, yes — but not quite hidden. They weren’t completely frosted in white like Casey’s had been: he could still make out the pupil and pale grays.

He stepped up to Brend and grabbed either side of his face. The sudden touch seemed to daze him — and for a moment, he stopped fighting.
Then I lock eyes with my subject
, Deathtreader’s voice went on.
I look deep into the black and imagine that I’m standing on the edge of a high cliff. The cord between us tightens, I feel the earth begin to slip away, but I do not fight it. Instead, I hold my breath and prepare myself for the plunge.

Kael’s hands began to tremble as he realized what he was about to do. No promise to Morris was worth a man’s life. He’d had a chance to save Brend before, and he hadn’t done it. Instead, he’d cringed in the safety of the barn and told himself that wisdom was more important than friendship.

Maybe it was. And if that was the case, then there was a very good possibility that Kael didn’t have his boxes stacked in the right order. But he was all right with that: there were far worse things than being a fool.

So as he met Brend’s eyes, Kael held on tightly.

And then the world slipped away.

*******

Kael stood in a long hallway. It was wreathed in soft light and lined with sturdy doors. He realized that this must be the Threshold: the room at the front of the mind that Deathtreader said would lead to all others.

The hall stretched endlessly, disappearing into a black that he couldn’t see beyond. He searched the walls for some marking or embellishment, any of the subtle clues that Deathtreader said to look for. But the walls were completely bare.

There must’ve been hundreds of doors, each carved from oak and set plainly into their frames. Where should he look first? What should he even be looking for? He had no idea what had happened to Brend. He had no idea where he might find out. What had he gotten himself into —?

Quite suddenly, the hallway began to blur and the colors waved in front of him, rippling like the reflection on a pond. He knew he was panicking. This was exactly what had happened to Deathtreader the first time he tried to mind-walk: he panicked, the world blurred, and he was spat straight back out. Kael knew if he didn’t want to get thrown into reality, he would have to calm himself.

He breathed deeply, and the ripples began to fade.
I can solve this
, he thought to himself.
I can figure this out
. When the world was steady once again, he set out across the Threshold.

As he moved down the hall, he was careful not to open any of the doors. Monsters lurked in the Threshold — menacing beasts of madness and doubt. They would attack without mercy, and it wasn’t just Kael they would try to devour: they’d feast on walls and doors, on morals and memories — anything they could wrap their horrible jaws around. And as they ate, they would grow stronger, feeding until they consumed Brend’s entire mind.

Deathtreader had once let a monster of madness loose in a nobleman’s head, and the poor fellow had wound up driving a dagger through his own heart to escape it.

So as Kael traveled down the hallway, he was very careful. He stopped and listened at the doors. Sometimes he would hear nothing, and sometimes he heard voices. They were memories, mostly — people and moments that Brend held dear to him. Kael knew they were only memories because they were spoken so faintly. According to
Deathtreader
, hopes and dreams were much louder.

“Come this way.”

Kael jumped and spun around. It sounded as if the voice had come from right behind him, but there wasn’t anybody there. “Hello?”

“Come this way,” it said again, this time from down the hall. “There’s something I want to show you.”

Kael stepped forward. “Do you know what happened to Brend?”

“Yes, yes … come this way. There are things you need to know.”

He followed the voice down the hall, listening until it stopped. The silence felt strange to him. He wondered where his guide had gone. “Hello? Where are you?”

“Look in here.”

A doorknob rattled on his left. He reached for it.

“Yes, yes … you’ll find your secret in here.”

Mercy’s sake — the secrets! Kael had forgotten about them. He jerked his hand back, his heart pounding. There was no telling what sort of horrible trap they were trying to lead him into.

He walked away, but the secrets kept calling to him. There were dozens of them, they talked over each other and seemed to grow louder with every step. He stuffed his fingers inside his ears and hummed, trying to tune them out.

He didn’t know how long he searched, but he got no closer to finding Brend. The hallway never ended. The doors all looked the same — and with the secrets screaming at him, it made it impossible to hear what was behind them.

No clues lined the blank walls. He was far too terrified to open any of the doors. But even though he desperately wanted to panic and escape, he didn’t. Brend was counting on him.

So he had to be brave. He had to press on.

He closed his eyes and began to comb through his memories of
Deathtreader
. Words and stories flashed across his eyes; he could practically hear the crinkle of the pages as he flipped through them. Then he came to the story of the sleeping girl, and he stopped:

She was not in our world and not in Death’s, but stuck somewhere in between
.
I walked the Threshold twice over before I realized this, and then I felt like a fool. If she was not there or there, then she must be
here
: in the mind with me. And if that was the case, then surely all I would need to do is —

“Call her,” Kael finished aloud. He didn’t know if Brend was still in the mind or not, but it was the best idea he could think of. So he unplugged his ears and shouted: “Brend!”

Nothing. Not so much as a mumble came back to him. And to make matters worse, the secrets all began squawking “Brend!” as loudly as they could.

Kael tried his best to ignore them. “Brend!” he shouted over their chanting. “Brend! Brend! Br — oh, shut it! Shut up!”

He kicked the walls and beat them with his fists — which only seemed to amuse the secrets. They broke out in round of ear-piercing cackles, screeching all the louder when Kael began to swear.

He was thinking very seriously about finding a monster of doubt to devour them when a powerful voice shook the halls:

“Here!”

The secrets went silent, the light in the hallway brightened, and Kael knew it was Brend who’d spoken — he was alive!

“Where are you?”

“Here!” Brend said again, and something rattled loudly at the end of his voice.

Kael followed the rattling sound, calling out every now and then, listening for Brend’s reply. He followed the noise to a door. When he called a final time, Brend’s reply shook it soundly — jolting it on its hinges. He knew without a doubt that Brend was trapped behind it.

He grasped the handle, pausing as he remembered what
Deathtreader
had said about going through doors:
Once I decide to step in,
in
I must go. It’s far too dangerous to linger in a doorway: it would be better to lock myself up with a monster, than have set it loose upon the world.

With that steeling thought, Kael pulled the door open. He stepped inside and quickly slammed it shut. Nothing could have prepared him for what lay behind it.

The first thing he saw was Brend: his face was gaunt and pale, his limbs were thinner than Kael had remembered them being. Black, shining chords bound his arms and legs, holding them captive against a monstrous shadow.

The shadow was easily twice Brend’s height and cut roughly into the shape of a man. Its flesh shined wetly and seemed to bubble up as it shifted its weight. The shadow’s great limbs were connected to Brend’s, and it wielded him like a child’s toy: when the shadow stepped forward, Brend’s leg rose with it.

Brend raised his head, and his chin trembled as he muttered: “Here …”

Then his head collapsed upon his chest, and Kael watched in horror as the shadow swallowed him up. It pulled him into its folds and sealed his body away with a horrible, smacking sound.

The room shook as the shadow rolled its head back. The black lumps across its face became a nose and a mouth. From the top of its skull sprouted a familiar shock of hair. Then it clasped its hands above its head — and brought them down with a roar.

Fear sent Kael into a dive.

He narrowly missed being crushed to death. The shadow’s arms came down, and he rolled away — grasping at his memories, trying to figure out what to do.