Fearless (Mirrorworld 2)

The dog man obeyed his orders more readily than Eaumbre. He used every opportunity to treat the prisoner worse than his dogs. A casual kick here, an elbow to the ribs there, or a shove with the butt of his rifle. Even now he pushed Reckless so hard that he smashed his face bloody on the side of the carriage. It was obvious that Louis was enjoying the show.

‘What is this?’ Nerron hissed at him. ‘He’s only useful to us alive. Do I really have to keep explaining this?’

The toad spawn had turned the princely smile green.

‘You don’t have to explain anything to me, Goyl,’ he hissed back. ‘I’ve had enough of your explanations.’

Nerron felt the muzzle of a pistol in his back. Judging from the height, it was Lelou who was pressing it into his spine.

‘I told my father a hundred times! The Goyl should all be roasted until their stone skins crack. Sadly, the old man is afraid of your lot!’ Louis sneered. ‘Lelou tells me you’ve been sitting with Reckless every night. You’re suspiciously friendly to him, but you can’t fool me. What’s the plan? Even shares when you both sell the crossbow to Albion?’

The dog man yanked Nerron’s arms back, and Milkbeard trained his gun at Eaumbre. He was as dumb as he was strong, but he was a surprisingly good shot.

Louis gave Nerron a look that contained all the arrogance of his ancestry, and also the recalcitrance of a seventeen-year-old who still felt immortal. A dangerous mix.

‘I will find that crossbow for my father,’ he announced while the dog man tied up Nerron so tight, it felt as though he was trying cut his stone skin with the rope, ‘and Albion will finally stop acting like they own the world. But first we deal with the Goyl.’

Oh, it would have all been so easy had he just killed Louis and Lelou in Vena. Your aversion to killing is becoming a hindrance, Nerron.

‘Who plotted this?’ He tasted his own rage like blood on his tongue. ‘Lelou?’

The Bug blushed, flattered. ‘Oh no. This is entirely the plan of His Highness.’ He shot Louis a nervous smile. ‘He’s not very experienced in treasure hunting, but he was right to point out that we are searching for the crossbow of his ancestor. I merely suggested we don’t kill you and Reckless quite yet. After all . . .’

‘. . . we still have to squeeze you for everything you know.’ The dog man exposed his teeth, which were as yellow as those of his charges. ‘About the hidden palace . . . about the crossbow. And all that . . . The prince thinks I should be in charge of that.’ He gave Louis a devoted smile and managed a plump curtsy. ‘The Waterman is the expert,’ he added, ‘but the prince is convinced, and rightly so, that you can’t trust the scale-faces any more than the Stone-skins.’

‘Yes, yes, that’s fine. Why are you telling him all that?’ Louis dabbed a pinch of elven dust into his nose. The stash in his saddlebag seemed inexhaustible. ‘First we take the heart off the vixen. Lock the Goyl in the carriage with Reckless.’

It took all three of them to tie up the Waterman. They tied him to one of the wheels, just as they used to do with Reckless. The dog man dragged Nerron to the carriage.

‘The prince is right, Goyl!’ he whispered before slamming the door shut. ‘You should all be roasted. Those will be good times, when he is King.’

‘Get the horses!’ Nerron heard Louis say with a heavy tongue.

Reckless was lying on one of the benches, his face swollen from its encounter with the carriage.

‘That wasn’t quite the plan, was it?’ he asked.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

GIANTLING RAGE

There they came. Fox stepped back from the fence, which the farmers had erected to keep their livestock away from the cursed ruins. The wind blew from the direction of the dead streets, and it drove ice and hail into her face. Everything around her was spelling one word into the night: calamity.

The men riding towards the watchtower were the same ones Fox had seen behind the Witch’s stable, but as they rode closer, she noticed that the Goyl wasn’t among them. Nor was Jacob.

‘Calm!’ Valiant whispered to her. ‘It means nothing. Absolutely nothing.’

Yet Fox felt as though someone were forging iron rings around her heart.

He wasn’t with them.

They had killed him.

No, Fox!

They were four. All well armed. The Waterman was also missing, but they had brought the bloodhounds, and Fox was glad she wasn’t wearing fur. One of the men was very young, and another one was barely taller than Valiant. Fox recognised Louis of Lotharaine from the pictures of him standing by his father’s side. In the pictures he’d looked much taller. Fox could smell elven dust and toad spawn as he reined his horse just a few steps away from her.

‘You’re the vixen.’