She lapped at his hand, as if to say she still loved him.
“I wasn’t so sure if I was going to go tonight; if I do it will put us in unnecessary danger. But now I know I have to. Lord Forsyth will interrogate me tomorrow, and we know what that could be like.” He remembered the pain of Sacharissa’s whipping. The darkness of the cell.
“Charles said he would tell me what I am before the duel. I won’t even fight; I’ll just hear what he has to say and then we’ll leave Vocans. Maybe we can make it to the elven lands in the north. It’ll be safer than this place.”
Sacharissa yawned, and rested her head in his lap. Arcturus laughed as she began to snooze, half closing her eyes.
“You’re right, you lazy thing. Let’s get back to the room, pack our bags and rest up. We’ve got to be ready at the second bell and as far away from Vocans as possible by first light.”
CHAPTER
13
ARCTURUS DIDN’T SLEEP. HIS bag was packed, his meager possessions in the satchel and ready to go. He would take it with him when he went to the summoning room. As soon as he was out of Vocans he would need to change into his old clothes. The uniform would be too conspicuous. Then again, with Sacharissa by his side, it wouldn’t really matter what he was wearing; they would stand out like a sore thumb. Once he had put a few miles behind them, he would need to somehow teach himself infusion.
For a while he had debated whether to keep the dirk strapped to his boot or to stash it in the bag for his meeting with Charles. He had been wearing it over the past two days, but nobody seemed to mind—it was a military academy after all. If it did come to a fight, he would prefer there to be no weapons involved. At the same time, if Charles planned to use one, it would make no difference if Arcturus was visibly armed or not.
“I’d rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it,” Arcturus reasoned to Sacharissa, listening for the dull sound of the second morning bell. His mouth was dry and the evening meal Ulfr had brought him remained untouched beside his bed. Even Sacharissa had refused to eat it, although that might have had something to do with it being a salad. Arcturus suspected that to her, it might as well have been a pile of grass.
The knell of the bell echoed down the corridor, leaving his heart thundering as he realized the moment had arrived.
“Come on, Sacha,” Arcturus murmured, opening the door. “Let’s hear what he has to say and then leave as soon as possible. We’ll run back to the room and lock ourselves in for half an hour, then make our escape when the coast is clear.”
They hurried down the corridors, feeling their way in the darkness. Arcturus didn’t risk a wyrdlight, for it would be too bright against the pitch-black of the castle interior. If any of their teachers caught him out at night, his chances of meeting Charles would be scuppered, not to mention any possibility of escape.
It felt like an age until they reached the atrium, and for a moment Arcturus was worried that he was too late. It was only when he saw a bright light flickering beneath the summoning room’s door that he realized that Charles was waiting within.
“Okay, Sacha. This is it.” He took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy door.
For a moment Arcturus didn’t understand what he was seeing. After being in darkness so long, the light within half blinded him.
It was a portal, the blue orb hanging in the air like a miniature sun. Rook was kneeling beside it, pulsing mana into the violet pentacle beneath. This wasn’t right.
Arcturus turned to run, but Charles was standing in the doorway, a nasty smile on his face. He swung the door closed with a kick of his heel.
“What’s going on here, Charles?” Arcturus growled, gripping Sacharissa by the scruff of her neck. She was preparing to pounce on him, driven by equal parts of fear and fury.
But before Charles could answer, Arcturus felt something wet and sticky whip around his body, trapping his arms to his chest. Sacharissa leaped, but Charles was already rolling out of harm’s way and the Canid slammed against the door. Another thread hissed through the air, glowing like a shield spell. This time, it wrapped around Sacharissa’s hind legs.
“Trussed like a chicken, ready for the kiln.” Charles cackled as more threads shot out of the shadows, swathing Sacharissa as she scrabbled at the oak floorboards. Another lashed around Arcturus’s neck, tighter than a hangman’s noose.
Arcturus fell to the ground, bringing his knees up to his chest. He gripped the dirk in his hand and eased it from the scabbard, even as he became entangled by more of the deadly strands. Soon he could barely move, only watch as Sacharissa howled and snapped at the strange fibers that constricted her. A few moments later, a last thread encircled her muzzle and tightened, reducing her noise to a strangled growl.
“Beautifully done, Anansi,” Charles called. “You can come out now!”
Charles’s Arach crept out of the shadows, the strange glowing fluid dripping from the back of its abdomen, beneath a deadly stinger. It was an enormous black spider, with a body as large as a human head and long spindly legs that scuttled along the floorboards. It had a cluster of beady eyes set in the center of its forehead and a swollen body peppered with stiff brown hairs. The mandibles that served as its mouth clicked menacingly as it circled around Arcturus to return to its master.
“You know, I think you did me a favor, stable boy, by taking that pathetic Canid from me,” Charles sneered, hunkering down to bring his face close to Arcturus’s. “The Arach is a glorious specimen, able to trap its prey with a mana web, inject them with its stinger and then consume them at their leisure. Anansi can even scratch away at his hairs, which float into the air to blind and irritate his victims—as his owner, I’m immune, of course. He is versatile, agile and deadly. I couldn’t ask for a better demon.”
“Thanks for the demonology lesson,” Arcturus said sarcastically, though the tremor in his voice revealed his fear. “Why don’t you tell me what all this is about. You’re taking a great risk, trapping me like this. When the king finds out—”
“The king won’t find out,” Charles interrupted gleefully, slapping Arcturus lightly on the face, just because he could. “You won’t be in a position to tell him, or anyone else for that matter, what with you being dead and all.”
Arcturus’s heart lurched as Charles’s eyes bore into his, their murderous intent as plain as the words he had just spoken. Twisting his hand beneath the webbing, Arcturus began to gently scrape at the gossamer with the dirk’s blade. It was hard to tell if it was having any effect, but it would not do to reveal his weapon to Charles. His only chance now was the element of surprise. He had to keep the young noble talking until he was free.
“How’s it looking, Rook?” Charles called, for the pentacle was spitting and sizzling behind them. Arcturus twisted his neck to see Rook’s kneeling figure, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead.
“Five more minutes. I’ve found the Minotaur’s corpse. The Wendigo only took the heart, liver and kidneys. The flesh must have been too tough; it will still be hungry. There’s a trail of blood.”
Arcturus saw a shard of scrying crystal on the ground between Rook’s hands, flashes of green reflected in it as his demon hunted in the ether. Why on earth were they hunting for the Wendigo, and now of all times? Even Scipio had been afraid of it.
Arcturus turned back to Charles, who was gently stroking the Arach’s abdomen.