Slight and Shadow Page 4

  “There you are, my lady,” he said as he succeeded in nudging the door open.

  “Thank you, Gerald. How’s the arm?”

  He raised his busted limb gingerly off his chest. “Oh, the healer says the bones’ll mend. And in the meantime, I’m to be careful about which wall I lean up against.”

  “Sage advice, indeed,” she said as she passed him.

  Gerald’s face reddened considerably when she smiled at him, and his helmet nearly slipped off when he remembered to bow the way Crumfeld had instructed him to.

  Kyleigh could feel his eyes on her as she made her way across the courtyard. She didn’t think she would ever understand why humans used their eyes so often, when there were far more practical ways to choose a mate. If anything, her appearance should’ve been a clear warning to them: more often than not, the most beautifully colored creatures were also the most deadly.

  Across the courtyard, Kyleigh spotted a crowd of men gathered around the front gate. The guards’ swears pierced the cool quiet of the morning, and she heard a thumping noise as several of them kicked the gate. One familiar voice cut above the steady rumble of profanities:

  “Where’s that mage? Someone get his scrawny hide down here — and tell him I’ve got half a mind to blast those doors to splinters!”

  A burly man popped out of the crowd and took a few stomping steps towards the castle. Even in the faint light, Kyleigh could see the bushy sideburns on either side of his boiling face.

  He was in the middle of a rather colorful rant when he glanced up and spotted her. “Ah, sorry about that,” he muttered.

  She reached up to clap him on one of his thick shoulders. “No need for apologies, Shamus. I’ve heard far worse. Now, what’s this all about?”

  “That confounded gate has jammed itself again. We’ve got a shipment on the other side waiting to be let in, and I can’t for the life of me persuade it to open,” he said, shooting a dark look at the front door. “I’m going to get that mage up —”

  “No, don’t bother Jake,” Kyleigh said as she headed for the doors. “He’s already admitted that he doesn’t know how to fix it. You’ll only upset him.”

  Shamus snorted as he followed. “How can he not know? If I put a hole in something, I’d sure as high tide know how to fix it. If I built ships the same way that mage casts his spells, they’d sink in the harbor!”

  Kyleigh didn’t say anything — she knew he was just cross.

  As the master shipbuilder of Copperdock, Shamus seemed to think he was required to work his fingers to the bone nearly every day. If there weren’t repairs to be done, then there were bargains to be made and tight-fisted merchants to deal with. He packed so many of his waking hours to the brim that he was grumpy at the finish — and even grumpier at the start. Judging by the red lines across one side of his face, he’d only just peeled himself from bed.

  When the guards saw Kyleigh coming, they let out a cheer. They moved to the side to let her through, flinging final curses over their shoulders as they went. She stepped up to the gates alone, rapped smartly against the left door, and waited. She didn’t have to wait for long.

  “Password?” a snide voice said.

  There was a knot in one of the planks about halfway up, just over the top of Kyleigh’s head. She always thought the lumps in the knot made it look a bit like a lopsided face: with one eye set high above the other, a jagged crack for a mouth and a slightly squished nose.

  As she watched, one of the eyes cracked open and the mouth curled into a smirk. “Well, if it isn’t the halfdragon.”

  No one was quite sure how it happened. As far as Jake could figure out, one of the spells he’d used to chop wood for the gate went slightly awry — and it resulted in the left door coming to life.

  Not only could the door speak, but he also had control over the bolts. He’d already locked them out on several occasions, and had once slammed shut on Shamus’s foot. The men un-fondly referred to him as Knotter, among other unrepeatable things.

  “Hello, Knotter,” Kyleigh said back, smiling pleasantly.

  But he was on to her. “Come to scorch me again, have you?” Knotter said, twisting his eyes to look very pointedly at a small patch of charred wood near his bottom.

  “That was a complete and total accident.”

  “No it wasn’t! You’re a bully and a monster — get off of me!”

  Kyleigh ignored him, leaning harder against the door while the guards snickered. “Oh please. What are you going to do about it?”

  “I’ll swing open!”

  “Good. That’s precisely what I want you to do.”

  He sputtered for a moment. “I’ll do it unexpectedly,” he countered. “You’ll go rolling down the hill — and the whole village will see what you’ve got under your skirts!”

  She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing outright. She had no idea how someone as kind as Jake could’ve possibly conjured such a foul-mouthed apparition. “Let’s talk about something else: why won’t you let those merchants in?”

  “Because they’re hiding something,” Knotter said, narrowing his eyes. “I can’t actually see what it is, but why else would they try to deliver something in the dead of night?”

  “It’s dawn,” Shamus hissed. “And they’re hiding it for us, you great lump of tinder! We were hoping to sneak it in all quiet like,” he explained to Kyleigh. “But then that termite-ridden tyrant had to go on and make such a hassle —!”

  “Well excuse me,” Knotter said. And if he’d had any limbs, Kyleigh bet he would’ve thrown in a sarcastic bow for good measure. “But if I hadn’t been on my guard, this whole place might’ve gone up in flames —”

  “You’re going up in flames, if you don’t open this instant!” Shamus bellowed over him.

  Knotter gasped and looked down at Kyleigh. She shrugged. “I’m afraid it’s true. If you’re going to stop up our doors every night, I’ll have no choice.”

  For the first time that morning, Knotter’s obnoxious expression sunk back into his grain — replaced swiftly by a look of fear.

  He had a good reason to be afraid. Jake had tried all manner of spells to disenchant him, and several more to try and blow him up. But thus far, the only thing that seemed to have any effect on Knotter at all was dragonflame.

  Which was something Kyleigh had plenty of.

  “You’ll burn me alive?” he said dramatically, his eyes rolling back in terror. “You’d reduce me to cinders, even after I was trying to protect you?”

  She inclined her head. “It’s either that, or I’ll have to put in a less-enchanted back gate.”

  The grain around his cheeks puffed out indignantly. “Well, I think I’d rather be burned than watch as another gate does my duty.”

  “Very well —”

  “Ah, but that won’t be necessary.” Knotter scrunched up his face and the bolt slid open, seemingly of its own accord. “See?” He rocked backwards. “I’m opening right up.” He made a face at Shamus before disguising himself as a normal knot once again — leaving Kyleigh to deal with the disgruntled merchants on the other side.

  “What took so blasted long?” the first man snapped. He had the collar of his coat pulled up so high that he nearly brushed by without recognizing her. “Oh, Lady Kyleigh,” he said, swiping his hat from his head. “I, um, forgive me — I wasn’t expecting you to be the one at the door.”

  It had been several months since she’d tackled Duke Reginald at his own party — and Shamus had assured her that the true story never made it off the island. But even if the people of the seas didn’t realize that she was the Kingdom’s most wanted outlaw, they certainly gave her a wide berth. Even now, she couldn’t help but notice how the merchant gripped his sword hilt when he greeted her.

  Though she supposed it was possible that he’d just gotten wind of her blade skills: Shamus often visited the dock tavern, and it was no secret that a few tankards of ale could loosen his lips considerably.

  “There’s no
need to apologize,” she said, stepping aside so that he could enter. Four merchants stumbled in behind him, bent nearly double under the weight of a large crate. “Great skies, what have you got them sneaking in?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” Shamus said, a little too casually. “Did you have any trouble finding the goods, Captain?”

  He looked pointedly at the lead man — who was looking pointedly at Kyleigh’s legs. A long moment passed before Shamus cleared his throat.

  The captain jumped. He saw Kyleigh smirking at him, and red singed the skin beneath his whiskers. “Ah, so sorry. My mind … ah, it wandered.” he turned to Shamus, straightening his collar. “What was that you said?”

  “I asked if you had any trouble collecting the shipment.”

  “Oh, not much. There was a bit of a scuffle. You know how those desert folk can be —”

  “Desert folk?” Kyleigh looked at Shamus — who suddenly seemed very interested in checking the sturdiness of the crate. “What did you order from the desert?”

  “I already told you — it’s nothing. Now, why don’t you go and catch another hour of sleep before sunrise?”

  He tried to turn her away by the shoulders, but she broke his grip and wrenched the lid off the crate. She heard the captain gasp as the nails splintered from the wood, but she was too focused on the crate’s contents to worry about what a spectacle she was causing. And judging by the reek of the captain’s coat, he’d soon be drowning the memory in a flagon, anyways.

  She pulled the first item out from underneath a thin layer of straw. It was a plain white tunic, made of a smooth material that she recognized immediately. “Silk shirts?” she said, doing a quick sum. “There’s got to be nearly two dozen, here.”

  Shamus scratched at his head. “Aye, I got them for the men. I thought they might breathe a little easier in the summer heat — ah, since we’ve got so many repairs lined up, and all.”

  He kept his face suspiciously innocent under her glare. Kyleigh looked over his shoulder and searched the crowd of guards for an honest face. But there was none: just a lot of foot-shuffling and some vigorous nods.

  She dug the shirts aside and found that the second layer was made up entirely of canteens.

  “To save us some time,” Shamus said, smiling as he grew more confident in his tale. “The men can carry them at their belts while they work, and they won’t have to take so many trips down to the water barrel.”

  “I see. Well, I suppose that makes perfect sense,” Kyleigh said, reaching in for the crate’s final layer. “Hmm … oh my — what’s this for?”

  Shamus balked when she drew the sword from its sheath. It was a scimitar, the curved blade favored by desert outlaws. She spun it deftly in one hand and heard the wind whistle off its edge. “It’s very well-made,” she said approvingly. Then she leveled the point at Shamus’s chest. “But what in blazes is it for?”

  “Ah …” He glanced over his shoulder at the guards, who tried very quickly to look bewildered, before he shot a pointed look at the captain. “I don’t rightly know. I certainly didn’t order them —”

  “Oh, no you don’t,” the captain interjected, jabbing a finger at him. “Don’t try and weasel your way out of our agreement! You will pay me, sir, or I’ll spread word through every tavern on the High Seas that you’re a thief and a timewaste!”

  “Those sound like some grave accusations,” Kyleigh said with a mocking smile, her eyes on Shamus. “Come clean, man — tell me what the swords are for. Do you plan to shave with them? Are your axes not as fun to swing about?”

  Shamus glared daggers at the captain for a moment before he finally let out a heavy sigh. “All right, you’ve got me. You know what they’re for.”

  Just as she’d suspected. Kyleigh thrust the scimitar back in its sheath and tossed it into the crate. “You aren’t coming, Shamus,” she said as she slammed the lid back over the top. “None of you are. It’s far too dangerous.”

  Shamus made a frustrated noise. “But we can’t leave you on your own, Lady Kyleigh. What sort of soldiers would we be, if we didn’t follow you into battle —?”

  “Obedient ones.” She didn’t like using the tricks Crumfeld had taught her, because they made her feel like a pompous git. But in this case, she had no choice. She arched her neck and tilted her chin — making it seem as if she looked down on Shamus even though he stood nearly a head above her. “If I’m to have any chance of reaching the Baron’s castle alive, I’ve got to move quietly. And that’s impossible to do with an army stomping along behind me — no matter how they’re disguised,” she added, when she saw the argument on Shamus’s face.

  He shook his head and started to say something else, but she held up her hand.

  “Pay this man for his trouble.” She turned to the captain. “And I’m afraid you’ll have to take that crate back down to your ship. I won’t let it sit in the courtyard to tempt my men.”

  The captain smiled as he bowed. “No problem at all. You’ll never hear me complain about being able to sell the same shipment twice,” he said gleefully.

  Kyleigh passed a severe look around the guards before she headed back into the castle. She could hear Shamus arguing with the captain as she reached the doors:

  “What was that? I gave you the look, man! How could you sell me?”

  “How was I supposed to know? All I heard was that I suddenly wasn’t getting paid —”

  “You should’ve known I was only trying to cover my arse. Here — take your blasted gold and be off with you!”

  Kyleigh sighed inwardly. She squished her toes into the ground as she walked, enjoying the cool relief of the morning dew. And she realized she would have to leave much sooner than she’d planned.

  She couldn’t give Shamus the chance to order another round of equipment and get the men rallied for battle. She wouldn’t let them follow her into Whitebone — not because she feared being spotted, but because she knew how dangerous the journey would be.

  Kyleigh was prepared to risk her own life, but she wouldn’t cost them theirs.

  Chapter 4

  The Black Beast

  It had been a long while since Death visited his dreams. Kael had hoped to never meet him again — for wherever the man in white appeared, trouble would follow at his heels.

  He slid in while Kael’s mind rested, in the moment when the dream world crumbled and gave way to inky blackness. He was a white smudge on the horizon — a something where there should’ve been nothing. And Kael knew it was wrong.

  Death came closer, and closer. He drifted in like a fog across the seas. Soon, he was standing close enough that Kael could see his face — a face that looked so familiar and yet, he couldn’t grasp who it was.

  Then his heart figured it out.

  The throbbing inside his chest was panicked. His heart shrieked, pushing against his ribs. It stuttered like a friend who saw danger, but was too terrified to point it out.

  What? What? Kael heard himself say. He gripped his chest and peered at the man in white, trying to guess his face. What —?

  Death’s hand clamped over his mouth, firm and insistent. Kael tried to roll his head to the side, but couldn’t break free. He couldn’t draw breath. In his panic, he forced himself out of his dream, wrenched his eyes open and saw … Lysander?

  The captain was crouched over him; the worry on his handsome face showed clearly in the moonlight. He pressed one finger over his lips as he peeled his hand from Kael’s chin. It was uncomfortably damp.

  What? Kael mouthed. He realized that he was the one covered in sweat: it lathered his face, the backs of his knees and under his arms.

  Lysander held his hands out in front of him, as if he was begging Kael to stay calm. Then he cupped one hand around his ear.

  Kael listened. For a long moment, he didn’t hear anything. Then soft footsteps came from his left and he turned in time to see Aerilyn kneel down beside them. It looked as if she’d gotten dressed in a hurry: she wore nothing but her boots an
d Lysander’s white shirt, which covered her to the knees.

  An object passed between them, and Kael heard the sly hiss of metal as Lysander drew his cutlass from its sheath. Aerilyn’s quiver was strapped across her shoulders; she had her bow clenched in her other hand.

  Their worry put Kael on edge. What in Kingdom’s name was going on? He checked to make sure that his wallet of throwing knives was strapped to his upper arm. Then he began digging through his rucksack for his bow.

  “Why’d you have to toss it the whole way out here, Dred?”

  The booming voice came from just outside the bramble wall — so close that it made Kael jump.

  An unintelligible reply drifted in from further out, closer to the highway. “Well, one of you sorry blisters might’ve at least come with me … I know there are lions out here!” the voice snapped, after a second reply. “Why do you think I keep yelling? I want them to know that I’m not wandering around on my own.”

  Then came a sound that Kael most definitely didn’t want to hear — not at this time of night, and certainly not so close to their camp: laughter. Several voices worth.

  “Yeh, I hope His Lordship strips the meat off your back, Dred,” the voice near the bramble wall muttered. “It’ll sure hurt to laugh, then …”

  His words trailed off into a string of grumbles as he tromped closer. His footsteps were heavy. Each one sounded as if a full-grown man was driving both of his feet into the ground at once.

  Kael motioned for his companions to stay back. He grabbed his bow and dug an arrow out of his quiver. Then he crept towards the bramble wall.

  He was fairly certain he knew what sort of man lurked outside their camp — but he hoped that he was wrong. The brambles scratched at his cheeks as he pressed his face into a small hole between the branches. He squinted through the thorns … and saw that he’d been right.

  A giant stood outside of their wall.

  The giants of the Endless Plains weren’t actual giants, with toes the size of rum barrels and heads that scraped the sky. But they were exceptionally large men. As the giant wandered closer, Kael sized him up. If the top of his head reached the giant’s underarm, it would be a close thing. But even more alarming than the giant’s height was the thickness of his limbs. He might’ve been able to crush a slab of stone with his fist — or a man’s head.