The Webbing Blade

PALACE GAOL

BEFORE HE KNEW just where he was headed, his feet carried him. They carried him along the corridor, that slap of stone beneath his boots. And he leaped at the trellis which hung at the side of the barracks, working his hands down it as he went, his stomach falling away from him several times as his brain was certain he was about to tumble down to the hard ground.

When he made it back down to the soft palace lawn, he saw the guards crawling along the ramparts, their bodies silhouettes against the now-rising sun.

One of them shot a crossbow.

Lou dived to his side, crunching into a bush beside him. He felt the branches stick into his skin, jab him in the ribs. But he lay there, hidden inside it. He breathed in the smell of the leaves, and could still taste that ash in the air.

He knew that Hildie was close by, that she was working her fire magic.

A bolt whistled through the air, and clattered into the stone wall just behind Lou’s head. He ducked after he heard it clatter.

If these were what his reflexes were like then he might be better served staying here, staying hidden. But he knew he had to move out of this place. He had to get to the others.

Find them.

He peered out through the leaves of the bush, up to the ramparts. He saw the guards speaking among themselves, both stooped over, trying to see him there in the dawning morning light.

They pointed towards where Lou was, but he was almost certain that he was well hidden. Sure they could pepper him with crossbow bolts, but he was pretty sure they wouldn’t be able to target anything in particular.

He felt his chest heave against his tunic, his throat stick several times with his breaths. He could feel his body locking up, his muscles knotting as he got caught in a panic. He was trapped here.

If only they would fire off some more of the those bolts, then—

As Lou looked out from behind those leaves, he watched as a ball of fire seared through the air and consumed the two guards. He felt the heat on his cheeks, rip right through him, even though he was some way away. He reached down for the Webbing Blade. Just touched his fingers to its handle. He felt that reassuring icy spark sizzle through his fingertips, worm its way through his veins, and slow his heartbeat.

When the fire cleared, Lou saw that nothing was left. Just the charred remains of the guards, which crumbled then blew away on the morning wind. And he tilted his head to look up at the ramparts, to where he saw Hildie emerging.

She was staring into the darkness, looking all over the palace gardens for him.

Lou’s first urge was to get to his feet, for him to wave to her, to show her just where he was. But doubt sprouted inside him, and he stayed still.

What was the matter? Was it that he didn’t trust her? Of course he didn’t trust her. She had ruined his home, murdered his parents, driven him to murder.

If he wished, he could just sit tight here, pretend like he was invisible.

See just what she had planned.

And then, through the rising morning mist, now fogging its way up the palace walls—the same walls that would keep the cursed animals back—she called out to him. “Lou! Lou! I’ve found them!”

Lou breathed in deep several times, felt his heart lodge in his throat, got that unpleasant fluttering sensation on the back of his tongue, and then, reluctantly, got to his feet and showed her just where he was hidden.

* * *

Lou padded his way up the winding stone stairs, breathing in the coolness of the stone—the stone that would soon take on a completely different smell when the sun rose. He kept his fingertips on the handle of the Webbing Blade, not wanting to ever let go of it.