The Webbing Blade

ILSNARE PALACE

COMPARED WITH HOW he’d felt earlier on in the day, with his sword, shield and crossbow all nestled against his body, Lou felt almost naked beneath his cloak.

It was the same hobblesman’s cloak he’d worn that day to go to training, but underneath it he now wore a beige tunic, and a pair of what could only be described as working-hand trousers. The only weapon he wore was the Webbing Blade, hanging from its sheath at his hip.

After they’d finished their heart-to-heart up in Hildie’s bedroom, she’d brought him back down to the basement, back to her armoury, where she’d had him take hold of the Webbing Blade, at first only gripping it in his hand for a matter of seconds before releasing it.

Over the course of an hour, he’d increased the amount of time he held it, until he almost grew used to that biting chill which seemed to freeze the blood in his hand.

Now, as they strode along the shadows, the outskirts of the palace walls, he could feel his heart thumping against his tonsils and a thin layer of sweat break out at his lower back.

He kept his eyes locked onto the back of Hildie’s cloak, watching it sweep the backs of her heels. He tripped a couple of times on the cobblestones, but kept himself upright. He felt that fury stirring inside him once more, but this time it wasn’t directed at Hildie, but at Herimyre.

The man responsible for holding all his people, keeping them locked up.

But could he kill him? Really?

While he’d grown accustomed to the Webbing Blade so that he could now take the handle in his hand without the protection of the bandages, Hildie had explained that the Royal Guards, perhaps alerted by Herimyre’s unusual sense for detecting the stir of magic, had become more careful with people arriving into Ilsnare, especially large groups.

Herimyre perhaps already knew that there was a war brewing on the horizon.

And that he would have to take care.

Hildie stole them in through a side door in the palace wall. She held her hands to the sturdy wooden door, and a steady orange glow passed from her palms and then incinerated the wood right before their eyes.

They walked through, into the palace gardens.

Lou wasn’t quite sure exactly what he had expected, he supposed that he thought there might’ve been patrolling guards, something like that. At least someone up on the ramparts.

But here, in the darkness, the whole palace seemed deserted.

Back at her house, she’d told him that the palace gaol, where Lou’s people would be held while they were judged for witchcraft, was located round the back of the palace.

The gaol was linked up to the barracks, where the Royal Guards were based.

And where Herimyre was based.

She instructed him that once he’d killed Herimyre, stabbed him with the Webbing Blade, she would be free to use her magic at will—to destroy the rest of the guards.

He was to signal to her with a ca-kaw call, just like the ones those cursed crows had made as they’d descended upon them.

Lou knew he wouldn’t forget the signal in a hurry.

Lou could hear his heart throbbing in his ears, and his legs barely obeying his brain’s commands for him to keep moving.

Hildie had told him that one of the basics of stealth was simply to keep moving. And he tried to take that lesson to heart.

The scent of roses here, the freshly cut grass, was almost overwhelming. When he breathed in he tasted the moist dew layering onto his tongue. Up ahead he could see a torch burning steadily above what he supposed to be the main entrance to the palace.

Now, in the dead of night, there were no other torches about the palace.

He guessed that the king liked darkness to sleep.

Hildie reached back and took his hand with her gloved one. He gazed at that leather glove of hers, sheening a little in the torchlight coming from the entrance of the palace.

She had told him in no uncertain terms that he could destroy her if he wished, just from touching his skin to hers. But Lou still hadn’t quite decided just what he might do with that knowledge.

If he’d ever do anything at all.

He listened to the grass beneath their gentle tread, as it brushed against their boots.

Hildie squeezed his hand tighter and led him on, up to the wall of the palace. And they sidled their way along the wall, keeping themselves flush to the stone.

And then, from up ahead, Lou heard gentle, tuneless whistling.

Hildie pressed her hand to his chest, pushing him back against the wall.

Lou’s spine hit the stone hard, but he suppressed the pain, sinking his teeth into his lower lip. And the two of them stood there, motionless, Lou scoping out the area ahead, trying to work out just where the whistling was coming from.

He listened to Hildie’s breathing, felt her warm breath blow against his cheeks. And he felt that soft glow within himself again, spreading out from her fingertips, from where she touched his chest.

She’d also told him, back at her house, that as he got more in touch with his ice magic that he would find it harder and harder to touch her too. Soon enough they would hardly be able to stand in the room together.

If Lou chose to get in touch with his ice magic, that was.

Lou watched as a guard rounded the corner. He held his spear in his hand, leaning up against his shoulder, its blade pointing up to the night sky. As the guard trudged along, he pursed his lips and whistled that incessant, tuneless tune. His lazy bootfalls acting as a kind of percussion to his shredded melody.

And then he stopped with his back to them.

Lou was on the cusp of asking Hildie just what they were going to do next, when she darted away from him, padding along quickly, and then, just as the guard turned round at the sound of the footsteps, she held up her hand and Lou watched on as she flamed his throat.

The guard dropped down, his mouth jabbering away but no sound coming out. He made a thud as he landed on the cobblestones. And Lou smelled the burned flesh carrying on the breeze.

Hildie glanced back at Lou and waved him onwards.

As Lou passed by the dead man, staring up into the moonless night sky, lips slightly parted, Lou thought of something else that Hildie had said to him before they’d left her house.

She’d told him that, if it hadn’t been for Lou, then she could’ve got through the palace gardens invisible. And so Lou couldn’t help thinking he was somewhat responsible for the man’s death. It was an effort to keep him from being discovered.

He had no idea how to make himself invisible. But, then again, he guessed that in turn he was keeping her safe, since she wouldn’t be able to face Herimyre herself.

She needed him to stick the Blade in.

They snuck their way onwards without encountering any further resistance. And only when they reached the barracks, its darkened, blocky shape in the near total darkness, did Lou begin to feel something approaching completely paralysing fear.

He . . . he couldn’t do this.

He could kill this man.

Could he?