The Pendant Page 8

  Patrick stared at her, stunned. “You are the leader of the Shandar?” he needlessly asked.

  “Evidently,” she said impatiently. “Now follow me.”

  They were shown into the library, as this was the closest room which would accommodate them all, and Feleen was given full details about the group’s dilemma. “I will have to consult our histories. There may be cases where that particular law has not been followed.” She left the room and headed towards her own suite.

  “She did not look very hopeful,” Fajfar noted.

  Everyone remained in the library, waiting. A short while later, Willard announced that dinner was being served in the dining room, but did not receive the enthusiastic reaction he had been expecting. Nobody was hungry, but they felt duty bound to at least attempt to eat after all the effort Mrs Willard had gone to.

  The soup was probably delicious, but to Sam it seemed tasteless and she struggled to swallow it. From the looks on the faces of those seated near her, she was not the only one. Even the wonderful smell of the fried bacon did nothing to arouse her appetite.

  It had been a long and tiring day and everyone was exhausted. Beds had not been prepared, but nobody cared. They each hunted the castle for a vacant room and lay down on the uncovered mattress, too tired to bother looking for blankets. Once Willard discovered this, he and his wife took blankets into each bedroom, quietly covering up whoever they found asleep inside.

  The sun was high in the sky by the time the last person awoke and made their way to the library. Nobody looked like they had slept well; only Patrick had gone to the effort of making himself look presentable. Willard served coffee to all except Oak and Sam, who both opted for chilled fruit juice instead. The room was very quiet. Those who were speaking did so in hushed tones. The atmosphere was tense as they awaited Feleen’s verdict.

  The knock at the door made everyone turn towards it expectantly. Feleen walked in, but did not look happy. “I have consulted the histories,” she announced. “There is only one conclusion I can draw.” Everyone held their breath in anticipation. “The only sentence I can impose is death.”

  Chapter 7

  Silence filled the room. It was Modo who eventually broke it. “You have got to be kidding me. You cannot seriously be telling me that you are going to let that man slaughter thirteen people just because they were going to help one of his victims when, not only did they not know what they were doing, but they were stopped before any aid was given.” He gestured towards Falcon as he spoke.

  “It is part of the code that the Shandar live by and will be followed,” Feleen replied calmly. “But Falcon will not be the executioner, I will.”

  “Well that makes it so much better,” Dean said sarcastically.

  “However,” Feleen continued, ignoring him. “There have been situations in the past where instead of an entire group being found guilty, only one is chosen to take the blame.”

  “Who decides which person gets executed?” Tor enquired.

  “I do,” Feleen replied.

  “This is insane,” Patrick protested. “You are on my island, in my home. What makes you think you have the right to threaten my friends? Get off my island. You are banished.”

  Feleen hung her head, truly ashamed that she had deceived Patrick. She had been in his employ for many years and respected him greatly. “I am sorry that I could not tell you about the Shandar. I have been the head of the society for only a few years, though I have been a member for as long as I can remember. Meetings are held infrequently and were always arranged for when you were not here, so I saw no harm in remaining in your employment. Please forgive me.”

  Patrick was too angry with his housekeeper to listen to what she was saying. He refused to look at her. Tears were in her eyes when she continued. “Very well then. I will kill you then pack my bags. How would you like to die?”

  It took a moment for Patrick to realise what she had said. He began to smile. Feleen had managed to find a way to save them all without breaking the code she was honour bound to live by.

  Eaglet and Falcon were shocked. They had no idea who she was going to choose to be the proverbial sacrificial lamb, but Patrick was bottom on both of their lists. They stared in astonishment as Patrick grabbed Feleen around the waist and swung her round, kissing her on the cheek before setting her back on her feet. Patrick noticed the surprise on their faces, but decided not to explain. Instead, he took the stunned and slightly flustered Feleen by the hand and led her out of the room.

  “Come on,” he said. “We should get my execution over and done with. Do you know how to make any painless poisons?”

  Falcon looked around in bewilderment. “Can anyone explain what just happened?” he asked.

  Oak took pity on him. “Patrick got cursed a long while ago so that every time he dies, he comes back to life.”

  “Yeah, right,” Eaglet snorted.

  “I am serious,” Oak insisted. Seeing the incredulous look on her face, he turned to Nosmas. “You tell them.”

  “He speaks the truth,” the wizard confirmed. “Patrick has died many times and each time his body repairs itself and life returns.”

  “This I will have to see for myself,” Falcon insisted, leaving the room in search of Feleen.

  “So what do we do now?” Sam asked. “Do we leave with Patrick’s body or wait until he is resurrected?”

  “We wait,” Tor said.

  Cirren was looking round the library. “Does anyone know if these books are all fiction?” he asked.

  “They aren’t,” Sam answered, having spent a lot of time perusing them the last time she was there. “The back wall is filled with factual books on history, geography, science. There are even some on magic I think. Why?”

  Cirren smiled. “If we are going to be stuck here for the day, we should spend our time productively. May I suggest looking for references to the Grundle’s lair or The Last Retreat?”

  “Amazing,” Brodin exclaimed. “My baby brother has actually come up with a good idea.” Cirren glared at Brodin, who couldn’t help grinning.

  “Can I help?” Eaglet asked, timidly.

  “Of course,” the young Prince replied enthusiastically. “Nobody blames you for dragging us so far out of our way. There are a lot of books to get through so an extra set of eyes will be more than welcome.”

  Nosmas took charge, allocating each person a section of shelving to work their way through. Without any complaints, everyone grabbed a book and began to read.

  Meanwhile, Falcon, Feleen and Patrick were in the kitchen with Mrs. Willard, watching her boil a foul smelling green liquid in a small pan. She did not look happy. When Feleen had told her what was needed, she at first refused to help. Finally Patrick managed to persuade her to make the poison, explaining that he didn’t trust anyone else to do it properly. When it was ready, she poured it into a cup, handed it to Patrick, then promptly threw all three of them out of the room, stating that the kitchen was her domain and she was not going to have anyone die in it.

  Patrick did not object. Preferring to be somewhere more comfortable when he drank the poison, he went off to his room, shutting the door behind him to give himself some privacy. It had been a long time since he had killed himself and he needed to be alone for a while before doing it again.

  He removed his shoes and fluffed his pillow before lying on the bed. He picked up the cup from where he had placed it on the small cabinet beside his bed and sniffed. It smelled revolting; it didn’t look much better. Tentatively he took a small sip and almost spat it out. It was the vilest thing he had ever tasted, and some of the potions Ellen had made for him in the past had been absolutely disgusting. It had cooled sufficiently for him to drink it without burning his throat so he braced himself and drank it all down, willing himself not to vomit. When he had drunk as much as he could stomach, he put the cup back on the cabinet and stretched himself out. He closed his eyes and was soon asleep. The poison was fast acting and within moments his breathing became sh
allow and his heart rate began to drop.

  “How long do we have to wait?” Falcon whispered to Feleen as they stood waiting outside Patrick’s door.

  “Not long,” she replied, not bothering to keep her voice down. She knew how thick the wood was and experience had shown her that Patrick would not be able to hear her unless the door was ajar. She gave Patrick what she decided was an appropriate amount of time, then knocked. There was no answer. She opened the door and strode in, heading straight for the bed, where Patrick looked like he was peacefully sleeping. He wasn’t. She lifted his wrist and felt for a pulse. Then she tried his neck, but she could feel nothing. She called Falcon over, who also looked for signs of life. He failed to find any, but was still not satisfied.

  “How do I know that the poison does not only mimic the signs of death?” Feleen had foreseen this question and produced a stiletto dagger from out of her boot. Handing it to him, she instructed Falcon to stab Patrick in the heart. Falcon looked at her uncertainly.

  “He really is dead,” she assured him. “He will not feel a thing.” Falcon stared down at the dagger in his hand. Even if he was standing next to a corpse instead of a living, breathing body, it still felt wrong to embed a knife in its heart. Feleen sighed, took the knife from his hand and lifted it above Patrick’s body. Before Falcon could stop her, she brought it down with enough force for it to become embedded up to the hilt in the lifeless flesh.

  Falcon jumped back, an automatic reflex to prevent himself being covered by the squirting blood he was expecting. When it did not appear, he cautiously stepped closer and peered at the wound. There was a small trickle of blood, but nothing more. He took hold of the dagger and yanked it out. It was covered in fresh blood, which dripped onto the bed when he held it pointed downwards, but there was no flow from the wound. Falcon wiped it clean on the already stained sheet and handed it back to Feleen. Admitting defeat, he accepted that Patrick was truly dead and that the code of the Shandar had been obeyed.

  Feleen led him back to the library, where they were surprised to find it full of activity. All eyes turned towards them as they entered. “It is done?” Tor asked and Feleen nodded her head. Eaglet turned an enquiring eye towards her father, who confirmed that Patrick was definitely dead.

  “What is going on here?” Feleen asked with interest. Brodin explained the latest clue and that they were hoping to find a mention of the Grundle’s lair or The Last Retreat somewhere in the library. Feleen looked thoughtful and excused herself before she could be asked any questions. At Eaglet’s insistence, Falcon agreed to remain in the castle one more night and to help them look through books for the rest of the day.

  It was nearing sundown when Ria cried out in excitement. “I have found something,” she exclaimed. Everyone dropped the books that they were reading and crowded round her. She had been reading a book on ancient myths, more to relieve the tedium of the non-fiction books she had been trawling through than with any genuine hope of finding anything useful, when she came across one from Auxland whose title caught her eye. It was called ‘The Princess and the Grundle’ so Ria carefully read it through before calling attention to herself. When she was sure everyone was listening, she quickly summarised.

  A long time ago, a Princess from Auxland fell in love with a stableboy who worked in the palace stables, and he loved her in return. They would meet in secret whenever the King and Queen allowed her some free time. Eventually the royal couple found out and told the two young lovers they must stop seeing each other. The stableboy was sacked and banished from ever setting foot in the palace grounds again. The Princess’s maid, seeing how distraught her mistress was, agreed to deliver a letter to the stableboy, arranging a meeting the following day in a nearby meadow.

  Unfortunately, the Queen found out about the meeting and arrived just in time to overhear her daughter agree to run away with the young man. Now the Queen was also a witch, and cursed the stableboy, turning him into a hideous monster and naming him ‘the Grundle’. The poor lad was horrified by what he had become and ran away to live in caves in the nearby mountains like the animal he now perceived himself to be. The Princess did not care what he looked like and knew the boy she had fallen in love with was still there within his deformed body. Each day she searched for him, going deeper and deeper into the mountains, calling out his name, but she never received an answer.

  The Queen meanwhile had rumours spread about the Grundle, saying he was an evil monster that stole children in the night and ate them. The locals initially ignored these rumours so the Queen hired an assassin to start stealing children. The man could not bring himself to kill them, however, instead finding them families to live with far far away. Eventually the local population could take no more and organised a hunting party. They finally managed to track the Grundle to his lair and were about to kill him when the Princess arrived, throwing herself between the monster and the crowd. She begged them not to harm him, saying he never took their children. The villagers were too angry and frightened to listen to her pleas and one threw a spear at him. The Princess used her body to protect the creature she still saw as the stableboy and the spear embedded itself in her stomach. The Grundle held her in his arms as the life drained out of her, emitting a heart-wrenching howl of sorrow as she closed her eyes for the last time.

  The villagers found no sign of their missing children in the Grundle’s lair so left him alone with his grief. When the assassin heard what had happened he revealed all that he had done, spending the next few months finding the children he had taken and returning them to their rightful parents. The King, disgusted with his wife’s actions, banished her from the Kingdom.

  “The tale ends with saying the Grundle did not die and his despairing howl can still be heard coming from his lair when the wind is blowing in the right direction.” Ria went quiet, allowing everyone time to digest what she had said. “Well?” she eventually asked.

  “It is a promising lead,” Tor confirmed.

  Cirren was not as convinced as his brother, however. “Auxland is a long way to go. We will have wasted a lot of time if we are wrong.”

  Hawk, who had entered the library in time to hear the end of the tale, interrupted. “There is a small mountain range close to the Annan forest,” he informed them. “I have flown over it on a number of occasions and each time I have heard a strange wailing coming from below.”

  “I know the place you are describing,” Brodin confirmed, “though I have never been there.” He made sure both of his brothers were looking at him before continuing. “I think it is worth checking out.”

  “We have to go to visit King Allias to get the royal seal from Tallon, if he is there. That journey alone will take a long time. I do not see that we can justify detouring to Auxland without further indication that that is where we need to go.” Cirren looked at Tor for support.

  “Do we all have to travel together?” Quartilla asked timidly.

  “Of course we do,” Seth answered, but Tor signalled for him to be quiet.

  “What are you suggesting?” he enquired softly.

  “Is there any reason why some of us cannot go to Amenia while the rest go to Auxland? There are two things that we need to collect, so why not split up and each group collects one before we all meet up again.”

  “It is worth considering,” Tor said, throwing Quartilla a smile. “There are some problems with the idea, but we should be able to work them out. We need to find a way to keep in contact with each other, for starters.”

  “Do we know anyone who has a pair of those enchanted boxes that Allias uses to keep in contact with his youngest son?” Seth suggested, but nobody did.

  “Mine must have been left in the maze,” Cirren informed him, referring to one of the pair he used to keep in contact with Liselle when she had been spying for him.

  “Maybe we should discuss who should go in which direction before we talk about all of the issues,” Dal said. “Obviously I will be going wherever my husband goes.”

&nb
sp; “Obviously,” Tor agreed, smirking at his cousin and making her blush. “I suggest I go to Allias, as I am on very good terms with him at the moment, while Brodin takes Cirren to Auxland.” Tor paused for a moment, remembering the strange laws that applied in that country and quickly changed his mind. “On second thoughts, Cirren should come with me.”

  Cirren knew precisely what Tor was thinking and felt a little insulted, as though his older brother was insinuating that he was not able to take care of himself. In Auxland it was illegal for a man to refuse a woman’s offer of warming her bed if she outranked him, unless the man was married, betrothed or recently widowed. “No need for you to worry, brother,” he replied, trying to keep his tone civil. “The law you are thinking about does not apply to Princes. Besides, I have already been there once, remember, and I managed to stay out of trouble. It will be good to see Queen Tibia again.”

  Begrudgingly he reverted back to his original suggestion; Cirren would travel with Brodin, who did not look happy, but decided not to argue. Tor had been travelling with the young Prince for a while and probably needed a break away from him. As much as he loved Cirren, Brodin found him frustrating and irritating after a while.

  “Hawk goes with you,” Brodin told Tor, before turning to Hawk to explain. “No offence intended, but I still feel uneasy travelling with a vampire.”

  “None taken. I travel with Sam, anyway, and I presume she will be going with Tor.”

  “Yes,” Tor agreed. “The clue said ‘The guide you need to obtain the royal seal from Kinfen’s heir’ so Sam and Dean have to come with me.”

  “Wait a moment,” Brodin protested. “The clue also states ‘The blind man who can read must choose a gemstone from the Grundle’s lair,’ and while Dean was my ‘guide’, he was also my ‘blind man who can read,’ so unless you can produce yours, Dean has to come with me.”

  Tor grimaced. “Hurst is in Yallend so we have no way of contacting him. Sorry Sam. It looks like you and Dean are going to have to separate for a while.”