The eighth chapter in my version of Inkdeath. There's gonna be a little violence/language in this particular chapter, so it'll be rated T. Just so you guys know.
Thanks for reviewing, everyone!
Here we go.
Chapter Eight: The Magpie
Dustfinger was glad to be out of that tiny tent.
He wanted to have some fresh air, more than anything. Hearing Meggie's family's grim tale again didn't improve his mood much, either. Taking over Silvertongue's watch was an excellent oppurtunity to talk to the Prince. And Silvertongue had looked as if he was about to drop down dead in a matter of seconds - his face was so exhausted that it surprised Dustfinger.
Oh well, thought Dustfinger. Remember when you were in the other world? Silvertongue's going to be just fine.
"Dustfinger!" Dustfinger turned. It was the Prince.
"Prince." Dustfinger had to smile; the Prince's eyes were nearly popping out of his head.
"Now, how in the world did you manage to come back this time?" The Prince put his arm around Dustfinger's shoulder.
Dustfinger shrugged. "You know me." To tell the truth Dustfinger didn't know how he had come back from that awful kingdom of the Women. Someone had to have written him back; but who? Not Fenoglio; the old man had sworn never to write again. Perhaps that man Orpheus? Dustfinger doubted it. Then, who...?
"We all missed you." Yes, I know. Dustfinger thought with another smile, thinking of the expression in Farid's face when he first caught sight of his apparently dead - but not dead - master.
"So," Dustfinger said, "What's going on around here?"
The Prince looked rather grave. "We're going into Ombra tomorrow. We need provisions, rest, and a physician, probably. And yes, Dustfinger," the Prince said, seeing the look in Dustfinger's face, "it's going to be very dangerous. The Adder's soldiers could catch us anywhere, everywhere."
"You are mad, Prince." Dustfinger said. "Ombra will be swarming with the Adder's soldiers. They'll be intent on catching you..."
"Me?" the Prince gave a humorless laugh. "No, I don't matter. It's him they're after." He jerked his thumb towards the tent Dustfinger had just exited.
"Silvertongue?" Dustfinger glanced behind his back. "That's not good."
"Of course it's not good." the Prince sighed. "Having such a high price on your head... is definately not pleasant."
"Ah." Dustfinger closed his eyes for a moment. "I see..."
"Why do you call him Silvertongue?" the Prince asked after a moment of silence.
"Haven't you heard his voice? What else would you like to call him?"
"We all call him the Jay. You might as well, too, like everyone else." Dustfinger didn't answer to that.
"How long have you known him for?" the Prince asked.
Dustfinger smiled grimly. Oh, yes, all those happy memories... "Twelve long years." he said shortly. The surprise was evident in the Prince's face. But he did not ask any more questions. What a great friend, thought Dustfinger.
The pair sat down by a large tree in silence. Slowly the stars gave way to the coming dawn as the sun rose. Dustfinger saw the Prince fingering one of the knives at his belt. That was a sign of nervousness.
"Well, let's wake the others," the Prince said abruptly, standing up.
"Yes, let's." Dustfinger stood up, as well.
It was good being alive again.
"Come with us... No more suffering, no more of this torment... You can finally be at peace, Bluejay..."
"You have escaped us once. You don't need to again."
The cold, almost transparent fingers touched his skin, making a chill go up his spine. They drifted closer and closer, their colourless eyes boring into his...
"Leave me alone! I'm not dying, or dead! I have things to do in this world..." his own voice sounded distant to his ears.
"Come, come..." One Woman's hand reached towards his chest, which was burning like the Magpie had shot him all over again...
"No! No, please, no..."
"Jay? Bluejay!"
"Silvertongue!"
Mo's eyes snapped open. He found that he was shivering and sweating at the same time. His chest was aching badly, as if someone had dug their fingers into his flesh, reaching for his heart...
Then he saw Dustfinger and the Black Prince standing over him, concern written in their eyes. Mo sat up, wincing as the wound gave another twinge. Meggie was still asleep, still leaning on him. Gently he moved her head from his shoulder, and looked back at Dustfinger and the Prince.
"Are you all right? You were talking in your sleep," the Prince said. Dustfinger had a strange look in his eyes.
"I'm fine." Mo lied. "Are we going to make the trip to Ombra?" he knew it was a transparent attempt to change the topic, but it was better than nothing.
"Yes." Dustfinger replied, still looking at Mo. "Yes, we are. We might see Fenoglio's landlady. She might be able to help us."
"I'll go wake the others." The Prince withrew his head from the tent. Dustfinger muttered something under his breath, and looked back at Mo.
"You'd better get ready, Silvertongue. Or should I say, the Bluejay." Mo gritted his teeth, and nodded. Dustfinger hadn't changed much at all - mocking, mysterious, unpredictable. What a relief, Mo thought sarcastically as he gently shook awake Meggie and the others.
Only a few people were chosen to come to Ombra. The Black Prince, Dustfinger, and the Bluejay were essential members for the trip; a few robbers and strolling players accompanied them. Meggie, Resa and Elinor, as well as Fenoglio, were to stay at the camp. Farid was coming with Dustfinger, despite Meggie's strong protests.
The group set off as soon as they finished breakfast and cleaning up around the campsite.
The Prince wasn't really afraid, for he had been through much more frightening situations than this. Or so he had thought. Yet fear started to curl its cold fingers around his breast when he and the Bluejay, as well as Dustfinger, took up their positions at the front. What's wrong with you, Prince? he thought to himself. Everything's going to be just fine. As long as all goes well...
"Halt!" the Prince motioned for everyone to stop.
"Are we close?" that was the Jay.
"Yes. Too close." Dustfinger replied.
"We'll have to split up." the Prince turned to his men. "The Jay and I will take a few men; Dustfinger and the boy will lead the rest." The splitting was quick. Five men were with the Prince and the Bluejay; Six went with Dustfinger and Farid.
"Prince." the Bluejay said. "What about your bear?"
The Prince closed his mouth. "He'd give us away..."
"...far too easily." Dustfinger agreed.
"Well, then..." the Prince stroked the bear's furry ears. "Stay here... until I'm back." seeing the look in the Bluejay's eyes, he shook his head. "He'll obey. And he'll be here if we need help."
The Prince didn't want to part with his companion, but if he had to, he had to. It was better than being hanged at the Adder's feet. Yes, much better.
Dustfinger and the Jay nodded.
"We'll go get the food and water." Dustfinger said after a moment of silence.
"Then we'll find us a good physician." the Prince added.
They parted.
INKINKINKINK
The men were obedient and quiet, much to the Prince's relief. But the Bluejay seemed uneasy - his hand never left the hilt of his sword, and his breathing was quicker than usual.
"You're twitchy, Jay."
"It's nothing. Just that... something doesn't feel right." the Bluejay shook his head. The Prince shrugged.
"We're past the Laughing Prince's castle," the Black Prince said quietly. They had been following the dark and narrow allies of Ombra, which both the Prince and Dustfinger knew like the palms of their hands. There were not very many people on the streets - the news of Cosimo's death had probably saddened Ombra very much. But the streets were much quieter than it should have been. Or was it?
"Fenoglio's house is close by, isn't it?" the Jay asked.
"Yes... but..." suddenly the Prince stopped. The Bluejay saw what the Prince was seeing, and cursed. He drew his sword. So did all the men, from behind their leaders.
"That bloody thrice-accursed son of a bitch!" The Prince couldn't resist muttering.
It was the Piper - the silver-nosed ministrel. He was there - right at the end of the alley. With about a dozen men behind him.
And Mortola was standing, small and frail-looking, yet so menacing, beside the ministrel.
The Prince felt the Bluejay tense even more as he saw the old woman.
"They're behind us too, Prince!" came a cry from the back.
"Very well, then." The Prince murmured. "We'll have to fight or way out."
"So we meet again, Silvertongue!" The Magpie spoke very suddenly. The Prince glanced at his companion, whose face betrayed no emotion. But the Prince could see his hand gripping the hilt of his sword so tightly that his knuckles went white.
The Piper was coming forward, brandishing a long sword. The Prince immediately regretted not bringing his faithful old bear along for the trip.
"Yes, Mortola." the Jay said quietly. "Where's that watchdog of yours? Where's Basta?"
Mortola's thin lips twisted. "So smug, aren't you, Silvertongue? After killing another man? You seem to be enjoying yourself." Then the Magpie turned to the Piper. "Kill him, Piper." she said in a low voice. "Rip him from limb to limb, display his head on your sword, whatever you want. Just kill him in front of my eyes! And those damned robbers, too! How well could they possibly fight?"
The Piper and his men struck.
The Prince drew his two swords and blocked the incoming blows with ease. But because of all those fighting bodies he was separated from the Jay and most of his men - they would have to survive on their own.
But so would he.
There was an overwhelming number of men trying to kill him - far too many. The Prince desperately wished for his bear again. Then, miraculously, he was here.
A bloodcurldling roar; then the men were shouting, screaming, trying to get away from the black beast's flailing claws. The Prince had to smile. He took the chance to run his sword through one of the Piper's men.
Where was the Bluejay? And the Piper? What about Mortola? The Prince whirled around, and caught sight of the Jay's dark head. The man was locked in a duel with the Piper; both were fighting with all their strength, both were tiring. The Prince rushed to help his companion - and friend, he realized witha jolt. Most of the Piper's men were lying dead on the ground; the Prince's men were fighting their remaining enemies. They might have some hope...
Then one of the Piper's men struck out at the Jay. He easily thrust his sword into the man's chest, but that gave the Piper an oppurtunity. There was a flash of silver; the Prince couldn't tell whether the Piper had struck his goal or not. The Bluejay seemed unharmed. Seemed to be.
The Piper was off balance - the Jay used that split second to drive his sword into the ministrel's shoulder. Silvernose cried out, wheeling around wildly. The Prince was nearly there - was that blood on the Bluejay? No, he couldn't tell -
Finally the path for his knife was clear. The Piper was turning to flee. No you don't, bastard, thought the Prince. He threw. The Piper fell, the knife in his back. The remaining men fled.
The Prince let out a sigh of relief. He gave his bear a pat on the head, and turned to the Bluejay.
"That was close, wasn't it?" he said. Just then he noticed that something wasn't right. There was an alarming amount of blood on the Jay's shirt and pants - where did it come from? The Prince felt his stomach give a lurch as he saw.
The Jay's little finger was missing.
All that remained of it was bleeding like mad, and the Bluejay's face was contorted in pain. "We need to get out of here. Mortola's gone; reinforcements must be coming." he said quickly, seeing the Prince's horrified gaze.
"Not while you bleed to death," the Prince said firmly, despite the fear that was gripping his heart. He tore a strip of fabric from his already torn shirt and bound it around the wound. "We've got to find a physician. Let's go to the Inkweaver's old house. His landlady might be able to find us someone we can trust." The Prince tried not to betray his concern. "Let's go!" he called out to the other men. No one was seriously injured. What a relief.
But judging by the state of the Jay, it wasn't going to be a short trip to Fenoglio's house.