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He heard itall? Then he was there in another secret passage listening to Verrick and me as we . . . oh, I feel sick and violated. But I can’t let him know that. “Yes, well, I was shocked. I reacted poorly, I admit. But anyway, the orcs smelled the remnants of the fight with their noses . . .”
Hoggins shudders in the dark. “Orcs are so unnatural, smelling their way around like beasts. Disgusting.”
“Yes,” I agree to placate him. “But when they couldn’t find their Warchief and smelled the remnants of a fight, they assumed I had something to do with his disappearance. Why didn’t you wait for me to administer the sleeping draught, like we discussed?”
“We didn’t consider that the orcs might suspect you. I merely saw an opportunity when he was sleeping all alone to drug and take him. A quick throw of a potion and then we could secret him through the hidden passages. It was cleaner that way, rather than trying to catch you alone to give you the potion and instructions, and it allowed us to put our plan into effect quicker. Lord Agony will not like that you were treated so poorly, though.” Hoggins says this last part as if to himself.
So Friza was right. They were listening and threw the sleeping gas into the room after I left and Verrick went to sleep. She was right as well about the passage in the room. By the timeshe finally finds the door in the other chamber, though, it will probably be too late. I need to keep following Hoggins so that I can find my lover.
Aloud, I ask, “Lord Agony?”
“Our leader. The one that brought you into this mission. You will meet him soon. He wants to see you before the ritual.”
“The ritual?”
Hoggins coughs a little. “Ah, yes. You are not aware of our full plan. I only told you what you needed to know. But you have proven your loyalty and you are being rewarded by being brought to witness something amazing. Astonishing, even. You should be grateful. Ah, here we are. Just a moment . . .”
A clicking sound echoes in the small space around us and a door opens, the light outside blinding after so long in darkness, even though it is the dimmer light of sunset. The secret door opens into the gardens behind the castle, the hedge maze to be precise. Hoggins lets go of my hand as if holding it was as unpleasant for him as it was for me.
“Come,” he says. “We must hurry to the tower before anyone sees us.”
The tower? There is no tower behind Castle Grimble, but I don’t have time to ask as he immediately starts walking. I have to jog slightly to keep up, my shorter legs no match for his stride. Left and right we turn, careening through the maze. I am all turned around, but Hoggins walks with the confident surety of one who has tread this path many times before. We navigate the maze until we come to a large artificial pond in the middle, fountain geysers spraying up in artful ways on the water. Hoggins steps onto the pond, walking on the water, two, three steps before disappearing. The pond must be an illusion.
Slowly, with a bit of unsureness in my steps, I step on the water where the mage did. It feels solid beneath my feet. With more assurance, I take my next steps until I feel myself pass through the cool mist of a magic illusion and find myself staring up at a vast tower, one that was not visible at all on the other side of the mirage. No wonder Friza and the other orcs cannot findwhere they took Verrick if there are so many secret, concealed places all over the castle. Hoggins stands at a doorway, looking back at me with impatience in his eyes.
“Hurry, we must get there before the sun completely sets.”
Lifting my skirts a little, I walk up to the tower and through the door. Once inside, I see it is mainly hollow, with a huge spiral staircase that leads both upward and downwards. I peer downwards, but it is too dark to see where it leads. Hoggins walks up the stairs and I hurry to keep apace with him. Up, up we go, going up what must be hundreds of stairs until we finally reach a set of double doors at the very top of the tower. The doors open and I almost gag. The smell of something rotten mixes with the smell of blood in a truly horrifying and putrid way. I look and see the entire circular chamber is covered in blood, drawn in runes and lines on the walls and floor.
Gods, what kind of ritual can they be planning to hold? The amount of blood used . . . they must have killed several people to get enough.
A group of hooded and cloaked figures line the walls, all wearing different golden masks. On the opposite side of the ritual chamber is a throne, an exact replica of Yorian’s throne at High Citadel, a vain, glittering thing of gold covered in gems. Sitting indolently on it is another masked figure, this one with the mask of a raven covering the upper part of his face. When he sees me, he rises, crossing the room with what I can only describe as boyish enthusiasm.
“Pells!”
Only one person calls me Pells, gods preserve me. The figure pulls back his hood and takes off his mask. There, standing amidst the blood and chaos, is Antony, Duke Strand.
He smiles wickedly, the expression threatening on his handsome face, and says, “Surprise.”
Chapter 22
Pellia
“Antony?” I ask, a little aghast. “You are the one that sent me the message from Yorian? You are the one that wants to expel the orcs from Adrik?”
Antony takes my hand in his and presses a kiss on the back of it. Seeing him do so, in this room reeking of rot and death, I have to stop myself from ripping my hand from his. My skin is crawling with his touch. But I have to be smart. I’m surrounded by enemies and I still don’t know where Verrick is. I need to stay in their good graces until a chance presents itself to escape or summon help. So instead, I smile my prettiest, most winsome smile as Antony raises his lips and says, “I know this is a lot for you to absorb right now. You must have many questions. But yes, it was me sending you messages through Sting.”
“Yes, I must confess, I am confused,” I say, trying to look wide-eyed and innocent, looking around the room. “Where are we? What is this place? Why did you summon me?”
Antony chuckles condescendingly. “One thing at a time, my dear. One thing at a time. We are in the secret sanctum of the Cabal, an ancient organization that worships Grazrath, Lord of Pain. He offers us protection and prosperity in exchange for our service. As to why I summoned you. . . I thought you would like to see what your handiwork has wrought firsthand.”
“My handiwork?”
“Yes, Pells, your handiwork. You brought the orc regent here, where we needed him, so that we may sacrifice him. After you were forced to seduce the beast—an offering, I assure you the Cabal appreciates—I thought that you would like to see his end and the beginning of a new regime.”
My blood runs cold as he says the word “sacrifice,” but I keep myself calm. If he wanted me to be present for the sacrifice, it means they haven’t killed Verrick yet. My voice is steady as I ask, “A new regime? How can the death of one orc bring about such a thing?”
“This group has more power than you can imagine, Pells. You must know that this group was led by Yorian, from before he was even king. It was the backing of this group and Lord Grazrath that led to him becoming king instead of me. If only I had known about this group sooner, instead of Yorian! But no matter. With him gone, I am the inheritor of Yorian’s will and the true heir to his throne. I am the Raven, harbinger of death and Lord Agony, leader of the Cabal. Soon, I will have the strength of Lord Grazrath and be king of this country. We will be free of orcish influence and you, my dear Pells . . . will be my queen.”
