Taste of Darkness
Page 97

“Okay. What about you?”
I laughed. “It’s far too late for that. I’m infamous.”
He scrunched up his nose. “Shouldn’t that be famous?”
“Depends on who you’re talking to.”
I finished eating and we helped Ginger and Christina lay out extra bandages and thread for sutures. Every loud clash sent my heart into my mouth. When we’d run out of tasks, I checked on the plague patients.
Gylon’s squad no longer lay in their cots. They sat together, talking animatedly. As soon as they noticed me, they insisted I allow them to fight.
“No. You are to stay here,” I said.
“Why not?” Gylon asked. “We feel great.”
“You might still be contagious, and I don’t want you getting our soldiers sick.”
“Oh.”
A scuffle sounded from the main cavern. “However, if the enemy attacks you here.” I pointed down. “Feel free to defend yourselves.”
“Yes, sir!” Gylon and his squad rushed to arm themselves.
I hurried out, arriving in time to see the two guards at the entrance drop their swords and backpedal into the cave.
Oh, no. I palmed one of my knives, but wilted when Odd, Loren, and Quain arrived with their hands on their heads. Bloody, bruised, and pissed off, they led a stream of soldiers who fanned out as soon as they entered, with their swords at the ready. Cellina’s? Or the Skeleton King’s?
Once my friends reached the center, they turned. Holding my breath, I waited. It was the enemy’s move. Sure enough, a soldier strode into the cave as if she owned the place.
She put her hands on her h*ps and surveyed the area with a cocky smirk on her face. The smirk spread when the traitor met my gaze.
“No hello for your old friend?” she asked me. “Don’t be rude, Baby Face.”
“Go to hell, Wynn.”
KERRICK
Strong fingers cut off Kerrick’s air, rendering him unable to speak. He tapped on the arms holding him in the air. Come on, you big oaf! Remember the signals!
“Belen,” Flea said in a loud whisper. “Stop, you’re choking Kerrick.”
“Flea?” Belen rasped, confused. His grip relaxed a bit, then he tightened it again. “Hell. You almost fooled me, you filthy cannibal. Now back away or your man dies.”
“It’s me. Flea. A Peace Lily and Avry saved me. And if you kill Kerrick, Avry’s gonna kill me and then you even if you are Poppa Bear.”
Belen tossed him aside. Kerrick landed hard and remained on the ground, gasping for breath as Belen scrambled from the pit.
“Flea! You’re alive,” Belen cried.
Kerrick didn’t need to see them to know Belen had Flea wrapped in one of his famous bear hugs. Having felt the same thing about the boy, he understood Belen’s reaction.
“Not if you keep making so much noise,” Flea said in a muffled voice.
Lumbering to his feet, Kerrick rubbed his throat. “Hey,” he croaked.
A big shadow loomed over the opening. “Sorry, Kerrick.” Belen reached down.
Kerrick clasped his friend’s hand and Belen pulled him up with ease.
Then Belen wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Thanks.”
“What’s taking so long?” The Skeleton King appeared at the entrance, then stopped as he noticed the prone forms.
“It’s an escape,” Belen said, tackling the king.
They hit the floor with the sound of bones crunching and a grunt of pain. The Skeleton King’s helmet and crown flew off. Kerrick rushed up to help Belen, but halted. Belen had knocked the king unconscious.
Kerrick picked up the king’s crown. It was similar to the one he sent Ryne. Although not quite as big.
Belen took the crown from Kerrick. “This filthy cannibal needs to die.”
“Yes, he does.”
“Do it,” Flea said.
Belen swung the heavy crown and brought it down on the Skeleton King’s head, crushing it. Blood and brains squirted out from the crumpled skull. Flea threw up.
“That takes care of the Skeleton King,” Kerrick said, thinking Ryne should be pleased.
“Not quite,” Belen said. “This is just one of his princelings. Sadistic bastard, though. Good riddance.”
Oh, no. Kerrick put his hand to the wall as a sudden wave of pure exhaustion washed through him.
“One of...?” Flea’s voice squeaked. “How many are there?”
“At least five that I know of. Damn things have invaded the south and are spreading.”
“Do you know where the Skeleton King is?” Kerrick asked.
“No. He’s been lying low. Probably worried about assassins.”
Voices shouted from the processing area. Reinforcements.
“Time to go,” Kerrick said.
The three of them raced to the window. Kerrick locked the cell as Flea and then Belen climbed out.
As he grabbed the ivy, Kerrick heard a ruckus outside the jailhouse. When he reached the window, he saw Belen tossing guards like they were rag dolls. Climbing out, he yanked the ivy from the jail and concentrated on sending it to twine around the guards’ feet. A temporary measure. He spotted more guards running their way.
“To the woods,” Kerrick ordered.
They jumped the fence and bolted for the forest. The fifteen people they’d rescued huddled around Huxley. The horse snorted at Kerrick.
“Lead us to a good spot, Hux.” Near the end of his strength, Kerrick mounted to keep from tripping over his own feet. He said to the others, “Form a single line and follow the horse, exactly. Step where he steps.” He tossed his sword to Belen. “Take rear guard.”