Page 33 of Enthralled

“Not just yourgubdagogs, Sis.” Calx rolls his eyes. “There’s lots ofgubdagoglirsin the palace these days.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” My big boy smiles down at me. “The palace and the low temple have been working together to keep Vespre safe since the gates all broke. We managed pretty well until about three days ago.”

My stomach plunges. They’ve been floating in the Hinter alone for seven turns of the cycle but have managed to survive, even to thrive. What changed three days ago? I already know the answer:Oscar.But where is he then? Somewhere in this wraith-invested palace? Is he still with Ivor? Or have they both already perished?

Calx leads us out a side door. We finally leave the palace proper behind and enter the city streets. It’s a relief to escape those haunted halls, but we’ve not gone far before I spot signs of wraith activity in the streets as well. Buildings caved in. Roads ripped apart. And absolutely everywheregubdagogsstrung across ruins and rubble. Some are broken and drifting in the breeze, the magic long gone from them. Some are full, thrumming with the angry beings trapped within their spells. Others pulse with quiet energy, waiting to be activated.

“Is everyone safe?” I ask as I trot after Calx and Sis. “Lir? Mixael and Andreas? Captain Khas and . . . and . . .” I cannot bear to ask after Castien. But surely he must be here. How else could they have survived seven years on the Hinter Sea, with just two librarians on staff and a handful ofgubdagogweavers?

“I told you, they’re all down at the low temple,” Sis says, bouncing with excitement. “They’re gonna be so glad to see you!”

We turn onto another street when Calx puts out an arm, halting our progress. I peer around him and see a hulking, hunched figure making its way at the end of the street, dragging nightmare shadows in its wake. I don’t recognize it from a distance. It wouldn’t matter if I did—even with its true name, I don’t have the means to bind it. But there’s agubdagogstrung up between two buildings on either side of us. It must generate a protective barrier, for the Noswraith never once looks our way. It lumbers on, stalking prey in the night. I can only hope the rest of the city folk have found shelter.

“All clear,” Calx says and beckons us on. I hate to leave thegubdagogarch behind, but I can’t very well stay crouched here. Calx strides forward, so strong and so confident. My heart swells with pride. It’s hard to believe this big troll man is still the same sweet, hard-headed, big-grinned little boy I knew.

Grateful to follow his lead, I fall into step behind him, Sis still clinging to my hand. “Why were you two up at the palace?” I ask.

“The low priestess said you was up there,” Sis answers, utterly unconcerned with lowering her voice. “She asked for anyone brave enough to go fetch you.” She grins enormously, teeth flashing in the moonfire glow. “I saidme first!”

“What?” I look from Sis to Calx again, totally confused. “How could she have known? I only just arrived, and I wasn’t there all that long . . .” Even as the words leave my lips, I realize it may have been longer than I thought. I encountered the Thorn Maiden immediately upon arrival, and she dragged me into the Nightmare Realm. Though it had seemed as though our fight took mere minutes, it may well have been several hours.

Sis shrugs. “We found you,” she says, unconcerned by my bafflement. “We found you before everyone else. That’s what counts.”

We move on to another street. I stop dead in my tracks, eyes widening. The destruction here is horrifying. Houses are decimated, lying in rubble, the street broken and strewn with debris. There’s blood everywhere. And bodies.

Even Sis sobers up at last. Her hand tightens around mine. “Some of the big nasties got out,” she says softly. “Gubdagogsdon’t do much against them.”

Calx leads on through the debris. I have no choice but to follow. It’s all so terrible, so gory, so undeniable. How could this have happened? How could Mixael and Andreas have managed to contain the library for all these years only to lose control within the last three days? Did Oscar summon the Hollow Man and set it loose on the city? I simply cannot fathom it. What could he or Ivor possibly hope to gain?

Whichever Noswraith had wrought this ruin must be temporarily sated and gone back to the Nightmare Realm, for I see no sign of it as we pick our way across. But it will return soon enough. Hungry, eager to feast on the fear of its victims.

We come at last to a street so positively swathed ingubdagogs, I cannot see the buildings from which they are strung. Were it not for Calx leading the way confidently forward, I would have been lost in the snarl, as thoroughly trapped as any wraith. As it is I cling to Sis’s hand and let her help me navigate the winding threads and bits of brick-a-brack, intensely aware of the profound thrum of magic in the air around me. There are Noswraiths caught in parts of this tangle, most of them fairly minor but all potentially deadly. One toothy phantom lunges, trying to snap my head off. Sis yanks me back in time, and thegubdagogtightens, subduing its captive.

Just when I despair of ever getting free, we emerge into a pseudo courtyard, surrounded bygubdagogsnarls rather than bastions and balustrades. Across the space are little pale fires around which hunch large, boulder shapes. It takes me a moment to recognize them as trolls; whole families of trolls, taking refuge within the shelter of thegubdagogs, so many of them, packed into this space. Their small boulder children, all wide-eyed and fearful, look up at us as we emerge, but the adults don’t move. Maybe they’ve entered into deepjor, a trance-like meditational prayer.

Calx stumps forward between the family groupings. Occasionally he calls out in troldish, lifting a big hand in greeting. No one answers and no one interferes with our progress. Soon we stand before a cave mouth which I recognize as the entrance to the low temple. Two hulking guards stand before it, stone clubs resting on their massive shoulders. They are so still and solid, one might easily mistake them for statues.

But it isn’t the guards who arrest my attention. Instead it’s the tall, broad, and dangerously beautiful troll man standing between them. He is one of the throwback trolls, a remnant of ancient days before trollfolk became more one with the stone of their world. He wears troldish garments, culottes ofhugagugsilk and a broad collar that emphasizes the width of his powerful shoulders. Long white hair falls in silky braids down his back, and a silver band rings his brow. He is Anj—the terrifyingly beautiful leader of theHrorark.

His cool gaze takes me in as we approach. He growls something in troldish to Calx, who responds in kind. It all sounds so harsh and aggressive, I wouldn’t be surprised if he suddenly commanded the two guards to lunge forward and brain me with those great clubs of theirs. I glance sideways at Calx but cannot read his expression. Sis smiles broadly, which isn’t terribly comforting.

Finally Anj turns to me again, his brow stern in the glow of moonfire lanterns. He raises both arms. “Hail, Clara Darlington, the savior of Vespre.”

I could not be more surprised. I gape at this man, my enemy . . . or at least, not my friend. Then, with a little shake of my head, I gasp, “The what now?”

Before I can utter another word, a whoop echoes from inside the cave. The next moment there’s a streak of silver hair and long white limbs, and I find myself caught in a powerful embrace, pressed hard against a soft bosom. “Oh, Mistress!” a gentle voice sobs in my ear. “Mistress, Mistress, I knew you’d return! I just knew it!”

I push back enough to look up into Lir’s face. My dear friend, my former maid, here and alive and standing before me. I cannot find words to speak. Lir is talking, but Sis jumps, claps, and squeals so loudly as she dances around us, I cannot understand a word. It doesn’t matter. Because Lir is here. She’s still the same stunningly beautiful woman I’ve known since my arrival in Vespre. My first friend in this world, my confidant and confederate.

A second look, however, and I realize there is something different about her. Despite the horror of the situation, the peril even now holding her city captive, Lir projects a confidence and strength I don’t recall seeing in her before. Though she’s not altered physically, the change in her spirit is profound. I’m not sure I would have even recognized her from a distance.

She turns suddenly and snaps at Sis in troldish, finishing with, “And dostopshouting my ear off, child! I can see perfectly well for myself that she’s here, thank you very much. If you’ve quite finished pestering, go find her something to eat—somethinghumanscan eat,” she adds.

Sis pouts and turns to go, but Lir calls after her in troldish. The girl stops, looks back. To my surprise Lir drops a kiss on the top of her head. Sis rolls her eyes but looks pleased even as she pretends to rub it off. With a last half-grin my way, she scampers off to do as Lir asked. I’ve never seen Lir behave with such affection toward the children. But there was something altogether natural about their interaction, and . . .

Lir catches my eye. Her face goes still for a moment, as though she’s reading my expression, reading something I’m not certain I can even name. “Mistress,” she says quietly, “when you left—”

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