The Dire King (Jackaby #4)(47)

I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned with a start. Jackaby held a finger to his lips and gestured for me to follow silently. Jenny was a few feet ahead. The tower on which we found ourselves stood higher than the castle’s curtain wall. I looked where Jackaby was pointing just in time to see what appeared to be Pavel’s soiled rags slipping over the edge of the rooftop and dropping onto the castle wall below.

We slid along the tiles until I could hear voices coming from just over the parapet. Jackaby held a hand up in warning. We kept our heads low as we neared the edge. I could not see Pavel anywhere.

“It’s about the bits you carve off is what I’m saying,” grunted a deep, gravelly voice right below us. “If I cut off some guy’s arms and legs, you’d say he lost his arms and legs—you wouldn’t say his arms an’ legs had lost their torso.”

“Yes, exactly,” replied a second, scratchy voice, “but that’s my point. If I cleave clean through some sap’s neck, you ought to say that he lost his body, not that he lost his head. Body’s just meat.”

“Okay, but everyone knows that if you cut off a gremlin’s head, its little runt body runs around for a good hour, causing just as much havoc as when it was whole. Sometimes more. You lose your head, not your body.”

“That’s just a myth, the gremlin thing.”

“Isn’t. Seen it myself. ”

“You have not.”

“Hey! Who goes there?” the first voice suddenly grunted in alarm. There was a sickening crunch and then another, followed by a loud clattering and then two thumps like sandbags hitting stone.

Jackaby peeked tentatively over the edge, and then stood up. I followed suit.

The path that ran along the top of the castle wall was about six feet wide, bordered on either side by a short, crenellated wall. Two hulking bodies lay sprawled on the stones right below us. They were easily ten feet tall apiece. Poleaxes had fallen by their sides, and matching curved daggers hung on their hips. Their heads sat at unhealthy angles to their shoulders. Their necks had clearly been snapped.

“Such a waste.” Pavel sighed, looking down at the slain guards as he dusted off his hands.

“Friends of yours?” Jackaby asked, dropping down next to him.

“What? No. I don’t fraternize with the help. If I still had my fangs, I could have tucked into them before their hearts stopped pumping instead of just leaving perfectly good blood to congeal in their veins.”

“That’s terrible,” I said.

“I’ll get over it,” Pavel said, giving the brute’s head a kick. “Ogre blood is always sour, anyway. It’s really best if you have a pixie chaser to sweeten it up. Theirs is like syrup, pixies.”

“The Dire King will be none too pleased with you,” said Jackaby.

“That is the idea,” Pavel blustered, although his eyes were darting nervously up and down the wall.

“Where are we?” Jackaby asked, glancing out over the terrain. Surrounding the castle was a wide field bordered by tall pines.

“This is the Dire Council’s stronghold,” Pavel said. “Heart of the beast.”

“Yes, but where is it within the Annwyn?” Jackaby said. “Arawn’s finest soldiers couldn’t find this place, but it hardly seems hidden.”

“Heh.” Pavel smiled. “That’s because Arawn is an idiot. His own castle is beyond the trees there, not more than a few miles away. We’re right under his nose. We’re on his lands, technically. None of his subjects are allowed to hunt or travel these parts—not that they would, what with all the superstitions. This was Hafgan’s Hold. Anyone loyal to Hafgan was killed or driven away after the last war, and then Arawn set his dogs to guarding the perimeter so they could never come back. It’s supposed to be impossible to breach.”

“But I see the Dire King managed to breach it.”

“He didn’t bother at first. Ten years ago, he tried to build a machine on the earthly side instead. After that one failed, I guess he opted for this old hold. The veil-gate here had been sealed after the war, of course, but the seam was still there. The church rests right on top of it. The Dire King didn’t want to risk drawing too much attention, so he couldn’t just destroy the church outright. We weren’t even allowed to kill the clergyman. We broke through a couple of years ago and secured the rend right under his feet, though.”

“The rend has been here for years?” Jackaby took a heavy breath. “Douglas and I scoured the church from top to bottom, but we never found anything. Arawn’s not the only idiot. You’ve been under my nose this whole time, too.”

Pavel giggled in a manner completely unbefitting an undead menace. “I know! Oh, you’re fun. This has been fun. I’m going to miss this. Anyway, the Dire King’s machine is in the center of the castle. The keep. See that tower with the domed top? That’s it. You’ll find sentries on every corner—every corner save this one, obviously. You’re welcome, by the way.” He leaned down and plucked one of the curved daggers from a fallen guard. He felt the grip and weighed it in his hands. “Waste not, want not,” he mumbled. And then he paused and gave me a lascivious look that made my skin crawl.

“We would fare better with more of your help along the way,” Jackaby said.