"Well this is brilliant" Rollan said "Everything I imagined our second mission would be" Their captors had taken all their things and thrown them in a stall in the Howling House, fifteen feet wide and fifteen feet long, with bars and fine wire over a single, tiny window high up on the wall. The stone floor was covered with claw marks. Deep ones. Some of them were at the edges, like an animal had tried to dig itself out. But some of them were randomly gouged into the middle of the wall. Like the animal was just angry. Or crazy. Conor was halfway to crazy himself after being in the stall for only an hour. He didn't do well being contained. All he could think about was how wrong Trunswick seemed, and how he didn't know if his mother was trapped here — or even if she was still alive. He couldn't be sure of anything in a world where he was thrown into prison on sight. Rollan lolled on the opposite wall, scruffy and indolent, picking his teeth with a piece of straw. He looked rather at home here in prison. But Conor was beginning to realize that Rollan worked very hard on looking at home anywhere. "I just don't understand how Devin has a spirit animal," Conor said.
"BILE!" Rollan shouted "Just please understand that!"
"I was there, Rollan. I saw him at the Nectar Ceremony. There was no trick." Rollan mused, "Did you see how tight he and the spirit animal were? They were the best of friends. It did just what he asked. I mean, why would it do that? Clearly it's not because of Devin's dazzling personality."
Everyone laughed
In between this line of thinking and remembering the encounter with the Trunswicks earlier, Conor suddenly felt awfully tired... and an awful lot like a shepherd's son. "Look, Rollan. I'm sorry. We wouldn't be here if it weren't for me." The other boy wordlessly lifted an eyebrow. "It wasn't that it was ever home," Conor confessed. "Home was the fields. But. . . it was different, at least, before. My mother sent me a letter and said she was working here now that I was gone, and that things weren't going so well. I just wanted to see her, see how bad things were. And | thought it would make her proud to see..." He trailed off. He didn't want to think about where his mother might be. His heart felt as low as it could go. "We all make mistakes," Rollan said. "For instance, that laundry I ate last night. That was a mistake. I can still taste it."
"You did eat the laundry?" Abeke said "Why?" "That was the only thing she cooked" Rollan said "Some orphans, like me, eat anything that they could find. Sometimes non- edible things."
Conor sighed. At least he had apologized. It didn't make him feel much better, though. He knew only weakness had brought him here. Why in the world would someone like him have summoned Briggan? What a waste. "You're driving me crazy with the pacing," Rollan said. He frowned. "Did you just hear something?" Conor listened. He heard the sounds of animals moving in the stall next door, and night birds cooing outside, and the sound of his own breathing. "What sort of something?" Rollan cocked his head. "A screaming sort of something?" They both listened. Outside, a thin shout pierced the quiet. Then another. Then a higher scream, far away. "Yep," said Rollan. "See, screaming. I'd recognize that sound anywhere. I'm a bit of a connoisseur of it. That, to me, sounds like high-quality surprise right there." They both jumped as something struck the fine wire of the window. It was Essix, perched precariously on the ledge. She dragged her talons across the wire. "She's trying to get in!" Conor exclaimed. "Sadly, that's not going to happen, my friend," Rollan told Essix, who cried thinly. Outside, the shouts grew more numerous. They were followed by a peculiar crashing noise that Conor couldn't quite place.
"Meilins plan?" Olvan guessed. They nodded
Suddenly Finn was at the door, a small square of his face visible through the wire-covered view hole by the latch. He worked busily at the lock. "Finn!" Conor said happily. "Get ready," Finn warned. His fingers trembled as he worked at the lock, but his voice was steady. "You might have to fight your way out." Rollan yipped in surprise. Water pooled around his feet. Alarmed, Conor lifted a damp boot from the ground. "Where's that water coming from?" "The water tower," Finn said. He kept digging at the lock. His hands kept trembling, but the rest of him stayed steady. Voices rose outside. "What's that sound?" Conor asked. "Greencloaks, and their supporters," Finn replied. He kicked the lock angrily. "The earl's locked up dozens of people who spoke out for the Greencloaks." Rollan joined Conor at the door. "What's wrong with your hands?" Finn's eyes cut up to Rollan. "Nothing." Rollan's eyes narrowed as if he knew there was more to the story, but he just asked, "What's wrong with the lock?" "It's jammed somehow," Finn said. He pulled on the door, hard.
"And that was the end of Conor and Rollan" Rollan said "The End"
It jumped on its hinges but didn't give way. "I need more force. Can you push from the inside?" Conor and Rollan threw their shoulders against the wood. The door jumped unsuccessfully. They couldn't push hard enough. There was shouting from not very far away "Are the other locks like this?" Conor asked. "No. It's only this one that seems jammed! I've unlocked it, but the bolt won't give." "Then free the others," Conor said. "Maybe they can help hold off the guards. We'll keep pushing. Go!" Finn hesitated. "l'Il come back when I'm done if you haven't escaped yet." As he hurried away, Conor and Rollan tried the door again. Water wicked up their legs. Straw floated on the water seeping through the walls and under the door. "How much water can there be in that tower?" growled Rollan through gritted teeth. "How stuck can this door be?" Conor said. "They just put us in here! If we just had a bit more weight —" A voice came through the door. "You do. Release Briggan!" "Meilin!" both boys said at once. Her angular eye appeared in the opening. What was visible of her hair was soaking wet. She said, "Trust you two to need to get rescued! Conor, why are you just standing there? I said, release Briggan! Hurry up. Where's Tarik?" "It's a long story. He's safe, but not here. Meilin, the guards —" Conor started. "They're busy for the moment. I've knocked over the water tower."
"What?" Olvan said "you knocked over a water tower. Do you know how big those things are?"
"Knocked it over!" Rollan said, shocked. "It's not a goblet. You can't just knock it over." "Well, I did. Conor!" With a flash, Conor released Briggan. The wolf instantly appeared beside him. He lifted his damp paws with distaste."Can you help, Briggan?" Conor asked. "You're heavy!" Without hesitation, the wolf jumped up onto the door. His weight hit it just as Meilin pulled on her side. Conor and Rollan hurled themselves against it as well. Meilin groaned. Briggan groaned. The boys groaned. The door groaned too.
"Bad vocabulary, Conor" Rollan said shaking his head
And then it fell open. "That's it!" Conor clapped his hands on either side of the wolf's muzzle. The wolf let out a thrilled, resonant cry. "All right, all right," Rollan said. "Enough of the happy reunion." They splashed down the dim corridor after Meilin. Half of the torches had been extinguished in the commotion. Rollan's voice was tinged with awe as he asked, "How did you knock over the water tower?" Meilin glanced over her shoulder. Without a hint of a smile, she replied, "I had tutors for it, back in Zhong." The three of them suddenly grinned at each other, relieved that they were back together again, even if they weren't out of trouble. "Prepare yourselves," Meilin added at the end of the corridor. "It's wild out there." Outside, the courtyard was lit erratically by fretful torchlight. Trunswick guards fought with over a dozen people without uniforms — the former prisoners of the Howling House. Spirit animals skirmished and galloped around the edges of the yard. Mastiffs milled underfoot. Briggan pressed up against the back of Conor's leg, pushing him outside, and Conor thought: This is madness.
"This is called a battle" Meilin said
Finn and another man ran up to them. Even in the dim light, Conor could see that the other man was tattered and haggard. Conor had been imprisoned for just a few hours. It was clear the other man's imprisonment had lasted much longer. "Hurry," Finn urged. "Follow me! They can't cover us long." "Cover us?" Conor echoed. His eyes roamed over the fighting. "We have to help!" The haggard man shook his head. "No. Briggan and the others must escape from here. You are meant for more than this." Just then, one of the mastiffs jumped, lurching heavily into the haggard man's side. As he turned to face it, another savagely bared its slobbery teeth before lunging for his neck. Meilin immediately turned to help him, but Finn seized her arm. "You heard what he wanted. Don't make him fight for nothing," he snapped. "Our goal is the talisman. Their goal is to allow us to pursue that goal." Another man ran up to attack the mastiffs. But the haggard man didn't get back up. "They want you out of here," Finn hissed, dragging Meilin away. "I'm getting you out of here. I said follow me." It felt wrong to leave the Greencloak supporters behind, even if they wanted the Four Fallen to escape. This is wrong, Conor thought. If we're so important, why can't we make a difference now? What makes us any better than these men and women? As they threaded through the fighting, Meilin blocked blows and Rollan ducked under swinging staffs. Everything smelled like burning wood and sweat. A rabbit bounded by them. A small bear clawed on another side. Conor realized that these must be the spirit animals of the captured Greencloaks and their supporters from the Howling House. Individually, the animals wanted to help. But as a group, they had no plan or order. It wasn't like Conor and the others — at least they'd had some training to work together. If only they'd had a way to formulate a plan before all of this, Conor thought. Just then, a guard dragged Conor to a stop by his cloak. Conor jerked and tugged, but the guard kept pulling him closer. Conor's boots skidded across the dirt courtyard. He was much smaller than his assailant. "Rollan! Meilin!" he shouted. But the commotion drowned out his voice. The others hadn't even noticed that he'd been apprehended. The guard flipped out a stubby, sharp sword. The look on his face was branded in Conor's mind. This was not a training exercise. This man was about to kill him.
"No duh" Rollan said
But I'm just a boy, Conor thought. There was no trace of mercy in the guard's eyes. "Briggan!" Conor cried out desperately. The wolf pivoted. But he was too far away — A woman struck the guard with a soaked piece of wood. For a bare moment, his expression didn't change. His sword was still poised over Conor. But then the guard's eyes went blank and he slumped to his knees. All of the breath escaped from Conor's lungs. The woman with the piece of wood threw her arms around Conor and dragged him to her in a hug. "Conor!" she said. Her voice was so familiar. As Briggan bounded breathlessly to Conor's side, Conor got a good look at his savior's face. His mother! Like all the prisoners, she was tattered and careworn, but her appearance couldn't get in the way of Conor's relief. She was alive.
"She knocked him unconscious with a piece of wood?" Rollan said
"Mother!" He hugged her tightly. His head was a clutter of images: that man's face as he prepared to kill Conor, the Greencloak supporter being attacked by the mastiffs, and even Finn's hands trembling as he tried to open the lock. His mother was so skinny too. "I — "I know," she replied. "But there's no time. You need to go! It isn't safe here for Greencloaks anymore. They even. . . even Isilla is gone." "But th-this is wrong," Conor finally stammered, shocked to hear of the gentle Greencloak who had presided over his Nectar Ceremony. She'd been a revered figure in Trunswick for as long as he could remember. "I don't want to leave you behind. Come with us." "I can't," his mother said. "Your father and brothers still need me." The others had finally noticed Conor's detainment, and they struggled to fight their way back to him. Nearby, Abeke and Uraza fought with two of the mastiffs. Overhead, a seagull, someone's spirit animal, circled and screamed. Madness, Conor thought again. Their odds were technically better than in that forest battle, but in this chaos, the Greencloaks were doomed. "How can I help?" he asked desperately. "Did you get my letter? You've made us all so proud, Conor! You called Briggan, and surely there was a reason. Briggan was a great leader. You're good and wise. Do what you feel is right. You always do what's right." "But I don't know what is right!" His mother hugged him again. "Do what is right in your heart, Conor." Conor hesitated. He was certain that if they left, all these Greencloak supporters would give their lives to shield them. Maybe they were okay with that. But he wasn't. He couldn't be. He just couldn't. Like Lady Evelyn had pointed out, he was a guardian. He couldn't just stay, though, either. Then they would all die. What was right in his heart? He didn't know. "Briggan," Conor said. He buried his hand in the wolf's ruff. "Can we help them? They need us." What this group needed was a leader, he knew. He just didn't know if he and Briggan were ready to be leaders yet.
"Wait" Rollan said "who decided you to be leader?" Rollan said
Well, he knew Briggan was ready. He just didn't know if he was. The wolf's ears pricked. He surveyed the chaos. Conor did too, and as he did, he saw that even worse was in store for them. The Earl of Trunswick's white horse was making its way jauntily down the streets toward the courtyard. The earl sat high on its back, his powerful lynx spirit animal lumbering beside him. He was riding in a leisurely fashion, as if he had come to the same conclusion Conor had: The Greencloak supporters had no chance. This was the Fallens' last chance to run. Conor and Briggan met each other's eyes. This time, neither of them looked away. Cupping his hands around his mouth, Conor shouted, "Meilin! Rollan! Abeke!" When he was sure he'd caught their attention, he gestured wildly for them to join him. Meilin reached him first. "Come on! Let's go." "We're helping," Conor said. "It's what we're meant to do." Conor's mother nodded. She stepped back, tightening her hands on the piece of wood she'd used to hit the guard. "What did you have in mind?" Rollan asked "Training room, like we practiced. Find weapons where we can and fight as a team."
"And this time we won't get an F" Conor said
He didn't have to say it twice. Rollan brandished his knife, Meilin put up her fists, and Abeke crouched low beside Uraza. Briggan tipped back his head and let out a long, cool howl. The sound pierced the fighting. It raised the hair on the back of Conor's neck and on his arms. Every spirit animal there turned all attention to the wolf. In that brief silence, Conor shouted, "Greencloaks! Attack!" They moved forward as one creature. Uraza slunk low before them, Briggan charged beside them, and Essix swept by overhead. They threw themselves into the battle. But not as four people fighting four separate targets. As a single entity dispatching one enemy at a time and then moving on to the next. Rollan fought with his dagger. Abeke brandished a torch. Conor swept up a shovel from a cart near the blacksmith's. Meilin still preferred to fight bare-handed. It didn't take long for their efforts to catch the eyes of the other Greencloak supporters. The first to catch on had been fighting with only the help of her spirit animal, a goat. But when she saw the four of them battling as a team, she leaped in behind them. Then a man with an owl. Then a young man with no visible spirit animal. When they saw how the Fallen had found weapons and worked together, they began doing the same. It was working. The cacophony was dimming. The guards were falling back. The mastiffs were finished. We're doing it, Briggan! Conor thought fiercely. He could feel the wolf's power surging through him, giving him strength. It was like he was a wolf himself. He was faster, stronger, sharper. This was what the bond could be. They were winning. Then the Earl of Trunswick's voice rang over the courtyard.
"He just had to ruin it" Rollan groaned
"If you want this man to live, I suggest you lay down your weapons!" In the uneven torchlight, the Earl of Trunswick stood on an auction block at the other side of the courtyard. Finn stood in his grasp. The earl's sword was pressed against his throat, and his lynx prowled the block, as if daring anyone to intervene. The fighting stopped. The only sound was that of several people trying to catch their breath. Finn's voice was softer than the earl's, but in that ragged quiet, it was just as audible. "Go. Don't listen to him! Just go!" Conor's heart ached. His mother nodded at him. Just go! All the other Greencloak supporters were watching Conor, Rollan, Abeke, and Meilin to see what their next move was. There were few enough guards that the supporters would have been able to take them on easily if the earl hadn't had Finn hostage. "If you go," the earl warned with the familiar Trunswick jeer in his voice, "I won't just kill him now. l'Il put him back where he belongs. In the Howling House! Don't worry, Finn Cooley! We'll burn that troubled bond out of you yet!" Finn's hands shook, just as they had inside the Howling House. But when he spoke it was with a steady voice. "Go. This is bigger than me!" Meilin hissed, "We can't leave him." The earl traced the edge of his sword against Finn's skin. A shallow wound appeared, a few beads of blood drawing a line across his neck. Finn pressed his lips together. He looked straight at Conor. "Take the rest of them out of here." Conor needed a plan, but there was no plan. Meilin's agonized face meant that she didn't have one either. Rollan and Abeke shook their heads. His mother's eyebrows pulled together. She was in over her head. Was this how it had to end? Handing Finn over to their enemy? Suddenly a wall of flame appeared. It roared and spat and devoured as it hurtled across the cobblestones. Straight in the direction of the earl and Finn. It was so out of place that it took Conor a long second to realize what it was. A cart, piled high with burning straw. Smoke rolled off it in great, choking clouds. Conor searched the courtyard's edge to see who had set the cart in motion. A small figure caught his eye. Dawson Trunswick, Devin's younger brother.
"Dawson plays hero" Rollan said "I wonder if his father caught him."
When he saw that Conor had spotted him, he nodded in a nervous way and vanished into the blackness. The cart blasted toward the auction block. The earl and his lynx leaped off the side to save their skins. Finn leaped the other way. He plunged through the blinding smoke toward the kids while the earl cursed on the other side of the cloud. "Run!" Conor's mother shouted as Finn reached them. She touched Conor's face. "Now's the time to run, my son! We'll cover you. Take Finn and go!" Blaring through the smoke, the earl roared furiously. There were words in it, but they were lost in his rage. "Thank you..." Conor whispered to his mother. "Thank you!" he called louder, turning to the Greencloak Supporters. "Long live the true Great Beasts!" someone shouted. The rest of the supporters echoed it. His mother's smile was a proud thing indeed. Conor's heart swelled. Then the supporters turned back to the smoke, weapons out, ready for the remaining guards. The kids ran for it. In the back of Conor's head was the thought that it was lucky, or strange, that Zerif and the other children hadn't made an appearance to help the Trunswick guards, but he was too relieved to be making a getaway to think long on it. If they got out of Trunswick alive, he could devote more time to wondering if their absence was due to cowardice or strategy. But for now: They ran. The sounds of battle rose again in the courtyard, but no one emerged to follow them. Their allies were holding back the guards. Soon there was no sound except for the noise of their footfalls slapping on the stones. Then the scuff of their boots on the bare ground beside the Trunswick wall. And then, as they ran into the surrounding pastures, there was no sound at all. Finn made a wordless gesture, and they all followed him into the blackest of nights.
"I thought you guys were goners." Olvan said. "Almost" Rollan said
"My turn" Lenori said
Chapter Ten. Glengavin