The Hag's Contract

Eighteen

Bowspear’s arms ached. He shifted, trying to relieve the pain in his wrists and shoulders, but the movement made things only worse. Groaning, he tried to catch his breath.

He’d been left hanging here for what felt like hours. Several times the pain had grown so intense that he’d blacked out.

Now, he opened his eyes to find the Hag standing before him. The masses of serpents that made up the lower half of her body writhed and undulated and hissed. He moaned in pain and fear.

“Pretty-pretty, what lovely skin you have,” the Hag said, reaching out and caressing his cheek again.

He tried to pull away, but she seized his head with both hands and stared deeply into his eyes. Bowspear felt a cold shock run through him. He began to tremble all over.

Slowly she brought her face close to his, and then she licked him very gently on the tip of his nose.

He shuddered. “What do you want?” he whispered.

“The truth, pretty-pretty.” She released him. Slowly he began to turn on the chain before her. She showed him the Eye of Vadakkar. “What brings you through the goblin mountains armed with a trinket such as this?”

“I came to kill Orin Hawk,” he said.

She cackled as if this were the funniest thing she had ever heard. “Kill my pretty boy? Why?”

He hesitated. Perhaps he could bargain with her. The information had to be worth something to her, perhaps even his life.

“Release me, and I’ll tell you,” he said, trying to sound bold.

“I have a better idea,” she said, catching him and looking into his eyes. Her pupils seemed to grow larger, peering into his soul. “You will tell me everything, because you love me.”

“I… love … you …” he felt himself whispering.

He blinked, and suddenly it was true. He realized he loved her more deeply than he had ever loved anything or anyone in his life. Her face … her hair … her eyes … even the serpents that made up the lower half of her body … He had never seen anyone more gorgeous. He loved her. He wanted her for his own.

He tried to reach for her and found his arms caught in chains. Struggling against them only made him spin more quickly. Why didn’t she let him down? Couldn’t she see how he loved her? He longed to rush to her, to hug her to him, to possess her and never let her go.

“There, there, my pretty,” she crooned. Softly she stroked his hair. “Tell me all you know, and I’ll release you.”

Quickly, eagerly, he told her everything: about the wizard who’d come to Grabentod, about Harlmut’s mad plans to save Orin Hawk and bargain for the release of King Graben.

Then he told her how he longed to rule Grabentod himself. “I’ll make you my queen when I have the throne,” he promised. He could see it all in his mind, “We’ll rule together—”

“All you would-be princelings say that,” she said wryly. “I could be a queen twenty times over, if promises came true!”

Rising, she headed for the mouth of her cave.

“Wait!” Bowspear called after her. “Release me! I love you! I love you—”

“If promises came true …” She gave another cackle, then was gone.

Bowspear began to weep.

Candabraxis woke in pain. His whole body seemed to be on fire. He struggled to sit up.

“Lie back!” an old woman’s voice said.

He tried to focus on her. “I must—”

“You must sleep.” She pressed what felt like a cup to his lips, and he found himself gulping a sweet-smelling broth of some kind.

Almost at once he felt himself drifting away. Everything had a fuzzy look.

“Sleep,” the old woman said again. “Sleep …”

Harlmut had an elegant table set for two that evening in one of Castle Graben’s smaller dining rooms. He stood in the doorway, surveying the fine Anuirean bone china, the gold forks, spoons, knives, goblets, and finger bowls, the intricate lace tablecloth and napkins. Yes, he thought, this would certainly do for entertaining Haltengabben. It was more than she deserved.

At seven o’clock, the high priestess arrived with a small retinue. Harlmut met her and ran through all the tedious formalities, then escorted Haltengabben in to their meal.

“Your people can eat in the kitchens,” he told her. If she noticed the implied insult, she made no sign of it.

“This is the first time you’ve invited me to dine with you,” she commented as he seated her at one end of the long table. “I had begun to think you might be avoiding me, Harlmut.”

“Not at all,” he said. “I am not the king, and I have no desire to rule Grabentod. Necessity has forced this position on me. I hold no more banquets or celebrations than the court demands, and I entertain no one myself … until now, that is.”

She raised her elegantly plucked eyebrows slightly. “Ah? And why do I deserve such an honor?”

He took a chilled bottle of Anuirean summer wine and filled her crystal goblet. “Why do you think?” he asked.

“Perhaps … to eliminate one you mistakenly perceive as a rival for the throne?”

She smelled the wine, tasted it gently with her tongue, then set it down. Harlmut frowned a little. Did she think him a common poisoner? If he had wanted her dead, it could have been accomplished far more quickly and far more subtly. She wasn’t the only one, after all, with connections to assassins. King Graben had several times removed troublesome relatives and ambitious captains like Bowspear, and Harlmut had acted as go-between on each occasion.

“I wish to strengthen the ties between the Temple of Ela and the king,” Harlmut said firmly. “I fear they may have become … shall we say, frayed?”

“How so?”

“May I speak openly?”

“It would be a pleasant change,” she admitted.

“The world is overfull of subterfuge in these troubled days.”

Harlmut leaned on the table. “I know you and Bowspear have conspired to seize the throne,” he said.

Quickly Haltengabben murmured her denial.

“No, let me finish,” he went on. “I also know that Bowspear has gone to prevent Captain Evann from retrieving Orin Hawk from his accursed servitude to the Hag. And I know that you equipped him with certain, ah, magical protections to help him in this task.”

The last was a guess, but from the way Haltengabben’s eyes widened in surprise, he knew he’d hit upon the truth. This time she did not bother to deny it.

“I can understand your feelings in this matter,” he went on with a dismissive gesture. “King Graben is far away, and surely it must appear his grasp on Grabentod is slipping away. On the other hand, Parniel Bowspear is here, and his men would follow him to the Shadow World itself— aye, most of Grabentod would if he asked. Indeed, he is successful in everything he tries.”

“True.” Haltengabben nodded almost imperceptibly.

“However,” Harlmut said, “the right to rule Alber is in the blood, not the sword. Bowspear is popular, but he comes from common birth. He can never rule Grabentod. It’s unthinkable.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Haltengabben said softly.

She must be thinking of Ulrich Graben, Harlmut realized.

She smiled. “And yet I have a strange feeling your hold here is stronger than you realize, Harlmut. The people do not fear you … but they like you, and they love their king. As long as you rule in his name, and you rule fairly and well, I think you will find you have more supporters than you know.”

“About the wizard …”

“I did not order his death,” she said firmly.

A little to his surprise, Harlmut found he believed her. Even so, he suspected she hadn’t told him everything. And if she hadn’t ordered Candabraxis’s murder, then who did? How was the Temple of Ela involved?

Perhaps it had been the Hag. Everything seemed to revolve around her. He knew she had ties running deep into Grabentod….

Haltengabben rose suddenly. “I thank you for a most interesting meal,” she said amiably. “I hope we will be able to have another such meeting soon, Regent.”

That was the first time she’d ever called him that, Harlmut realized with a sudden flash of pride. He rose and nodded politely to her as she swept from the room. Perhaps the meal had not been a waste of time after all.

Captain Evann and his men worked throughout the morning, cutting frozen turf with their swords, then scooping dirt from the holes to make a series of shallow graves.

There were forty-seven skeletons. Each had to be laid out neatly, arms carefully folded, every bone in place. Then Evann murmured a prayer for the soul of the dead man, woman, or child, and his men began to bury the bones.

It was hard work, but at last it was done. Wiping sweat from his brow, Evann sat, staring out across the water to the small isle. For some reason the Hag’s minions had dumped all the bodies there. Why? He shook his head. It was a puzzle he might never unravel.

His men joined him, panting, sweaty, dirty. At least the weather had begun to warm up some, he thought. It was well above freezing now.

Rising, he went down to the lake and washed the dirt from his hands and face. The others did the same, sputtering and shivering when the cold water hit them.

Drying his hands on his pants, Evann looked to the north. The Hag’s main camp would be somewhere that direction, he thought. They still had a long distance to go today.

He returned to the encampment, picked up his pack, shrugged it on, and called, “Let’s get moving!”

They struck out across the plain, following game trails. Here and there rose small clumps of trees, islands in an ocean of grass.

Suddenly Evann spotted movement far ahead of them—horses, he thought.

“Down!” Harrach hissed.

Everyone dropped to the ground. Evann raised himself up on his knees to peer ahead.

There were thirty or forty horsemen, all heading in their direction at a gallop. He swallowed. Had they been seen?

“Quickly,” he said, turning to his men, “keep low and follow me.”

Crouching, Evann ran for the nearest cluster of trees, perhaps a hundred fifty yards away. They might be able to hide there, or at least make a stand to defend themselves.

The company didn’t quite reach the trees, though. The pounding of hooves neared, and suddenly the horsemen were circling them.

Drawing his sword, Evann stood. “Form a ring!” he shouted, and his men did so, facing outward, weapons ready.

The leader of the horsemen reigned in. He was a tall man with a dark beard, a large prominent nose, and intense eyes.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “Why do you trespass on the Hag’s Domain?”

Evann stepped forward. “I seek a man known as Orin Hawk,” he proclaimed.

“What do you want with him?”

“I have a message for him and him alone.”

“Then you’ve found me,” the man said. “What is this message?”

“I need you to return with me to Grabentod.”

“f fought your people before finding my true destiny here. Why should I return to the homeland of my former enemies?”

Evann paused. He didn’t quite know what to say. He had not expected to so quickly run upon the man, and had no speeches prepared. “Because,” he finally said, “you and only you can bring peace to our land. And, for that matter, peace between Grabentod and Drachenward.”

Hawk laughed bitterly. “Lay down your arms,” he said, “and your lives will be spared … for now.”

“You must know what she’s done to you,” Evann pressed. He looked from Hawk to each of Hawk’s men. “You’re under her spell—you’re all under her spell. Don’t you want to be free? Don’t you want to be men again? Come back with me and—”

Hawk threw back his head and laughed. “Take them!” he cried. Then he spurred his horse toward Evann, raising his sword.