Lair of the Beast Read online

  Wily turned to run and expected Valor to be at his side. Instead he saw she was heading back into danger with the hedgehogs tucked in the crook of her arm. She had stopped in front of a hole in the ground. Wily could see the same young wildeboar that had gotten lost from its mother peeking out. Above, all of Spider Rock was starting to topple.

  “Come on!” Wily cried.

  “I won’t leave him behind,” Valor said, reaching into the hole.

  “You have to,” Wily shouted back.

  As another chunk of rock came falling, Wily could see Valor was torn. The wildeboar was still out of reach. All around them, Wily could hear the sound of shattering stone. Spider Rock was coming down.

  Valor turned away from the hole and sprinted away with the hedgehogs. Wily could see tears streaming across her cheeks. They both made for the relative safety of the tree line, but before they reached it, the bulbous body of the great spider fell, and fell, and fell—and hit the ground. The impact knocked Wily off his feet, sending him rolling forward. The tarantulas scattered into the underbrush as Wily bounced to a stop beside Valor.

  When he looked back, he saw that what had once been a safe place for all animals was now nothing more than a pile of crushed rocks. Valor looked back sadly at the desolation.

  “If we don’t find a way to stop the stone golems, this is only the beginning,” Wily said. “Stalag’s army will only grow in power.”

  Valor nodded.

  “I will join you to find Palojax,” she said after a long silence. “Not to help you. Or your mother. Or the people of Panthasos. I will join you to help the animals, the creatures that will be hurt most in this battle of which they have no part.”

  “Thank you,” Wily said. “You will not regret it.”

  Valor gave him a cold stare. “Don’t thank me. I might still change my mind.”

  12

  THE ORACLE OF OAK

  The next morning, as Wily and the others were preparing to leave, his mother limped to his side, wincing with each step.

  “I need go back to the palace,” Lumina said. “My leg is only getting worse. I can’t slow you down.”

  “You won’t,” Wily said.

  “We both know I will,” she replied. “Besides, somebody has to make sure the royal palace will remain standing until you return with Palojax.” Lumina touched Wily’s cheek softly with her hand. Then she turned to the others who were preparing their mounts. “The only sage within a day’s travel is the Oracle of Oak,” she said. “She will know how to get into the Below. That’s where you should head next. Do you know where to find her?”

  “Rootmire Glen,” Odette said with a nod. “We’ve visited her before. She guided us to a very important person.”

  Which was absolutely true: it had been the Oracle of Oak who had told Odette, Moshul, and Pryvyd to seek the trapsmith of Carrion Tomb. If it hadn’t been for her, Wily might still be polishing the gears of the snap traps and feeding the ghost spiders in the subterranean tunnels of Stalag’s dungeon.

  “That’s to the north,” Valor said. “The same direction the golems on the Web were heading.”

  “Then we’ll have to proceed with caution,” Pryvyd said.

  “And here are the jewels you should give to the oracle as payment.” Lumina handed a leather bag to Pryvyd. Then she called over to Impish and Gremlin. “Come on, you two. Say your good-byes.”

  The two ferrets bounded down Moshul’s partially flattened back to the ground. They scampered over to Lumina and scurried up into her jacket pockets, tucking themselves in comfortably for the long ride ahead.

  Then it was time for Lumina to say good-bye to her son. She enfolded Wily in a big embrace.

  He whispered in her ear, “I wish you could come with us.”

  “You did just fine without me before,” Lumina replied quietly. “You’ll do just fine now too.”

  She let go of Wily and glanced over at the others. “Take care of him,” Lumina said.

  “A future king who needs to be watched over?” Valor scoffed. “That’s reassuring.”

  Wily felt his cheeks flush red as his mother mounted her horse. She gave a final wave to the companions and rode away.

  Valor didn’t even wait for Lumina to disappear into the trees before turning to the others. “If we want to reach Rootmire Glen without being spotted by the golems,” she explained, “we should cut through the Opake Woods.”

  Odette was used to being the alpha-female, the leader of the band. Her humorless expression indicated she wasn’t happy to have to relinquish her role.

  “Why don’t you lead the way?” Pryvyd said to Valor as he mounted his horse.

  “I was planning to,” Valor said. “Follow me. And try to keep up.”

  With one swift movement, she was on Stalkeer’s back. The mountain lion roared with delight and bounded ahead.

  * * *

  THE OPAKE WOODS were different than the other forests Wily had traveled through. The leaves of the noxen trees that populated the woods were coal black. Even during daytime, the forest was as dim as a torch-lit tunnel. Valor was only three horse-lengths ahead of him, but to Wily she was nearly enveloped in darkness.

  “A golem!” a voice that sounded like Pryvyd’s shouted from behind.

  Wily spun around in a panic. A golem, here? Even in the dark shade of the Opake Woods? Was there nowhere they hadn’t reached?

  “I don’t see any golems,” Roveeka called out from Moshul’s shoulders. “Where is it, Pryvyd?”

  Roveeka could see as well in the dark as she could in the light. How did she not see it?

  “I didn’t say anything,” Pryvyd yelled. “That was someone else.”

  “Bring it down!” the same voice from the trees called out.

  Suddenly, a spear flew from the trees and landed at Moshul’s feet.

  “I know where the golem is,” Odette called back to Roveeka. “Beneath your legs.”

  The strangers in the trees were talking about Moshul. A dozen spears flew from the foliage toward the moss golem and his friends. Pryvyd blocked one with his shield while Righteous plucked another from the air. Moshul was struck with four in his chest and a fifth in his arm. The moss golem stumbled backward, causing Roveeka to lose her balance. She grabbed a fistful of shoulder mushrooms to steady herself.

  “I can’t hold on,” Roveeka said as the fungus was torn from the soil on Moshul’s back.

  She tipped from her perch and went tumbling toward the ground. Before she hit the earth, Stalkeer and Valor jumped underneath the falling hobgoblet. After catching Roveeka, they dodged a barrage of arrows from the thick shrubs.

  “Glad someone around here can act under pressure,” Valor snapped, eyeing Wily with exasperation.

  “Keep firing,” the voice yelled. “We’ve got them pinned down.”

  An arrow whizzed past Wily, scraping his earlobe. Another arrow struck a pouch on his tool belt; just a few inches higher and it would have been sticking out of his belly.

  “I recognize that voice,” Pryvyd said. He raised his hand and threw down his shield. “I am Pryvyd Rucka, Knight of the Golden Sun.”

  The arrows stopped. Odette and Wily exchanged nervous glances.

  “Are you a prisoner of the stone golem?” a new voice in the bushes called back.

  “This is not a stone golem,” Pryvyd yelled. “He is just moss and mud and my friend.”

  A stout woman with a close-cropped head of curly hair walked out from the dense brush. Her armor, while cracked and dented, was unmistakable. It bore the same insignia as Pryvyd’s.

  “Well if isn’t the most noble warrior in all the land,” she said with a smile. “Get over here, Righteous.”

  Righteous flew to the woman’s side and the two gave each other a complicated handshake that involved finger slaps and fist bumps. The woman then looked over at Pryvyd. “You’re still following your arm around?” she asked. “I thought you’d be sleeping in an alley outside Ratgull Harbor by now.”

  �
��Nice to see you too, Spraved,” Pryvyd said without cracking a smile.

  “These woods used to be filled with thieves, so you should feel right at home,” Spraved said, spitting on the ground.

  “I made a mistake,” Pryvyd said. “I’m a knight again.”

  “Once a thief, always a thief,” Spraved replied. “You left when we needed you most. You stole hope from us. That is not so easily returned.”

  A squad of knights emerged from the dense leaves. All of them looked like they’d been through some tough fights.

  “I am joined by Wily Snare, heir to the throne,” Pryvyd said. “We’re on our way to Rootmire Glen.”

  “It’s very dangerous to head in that direction,” Spraved muttered. “Everything north of here has become golem territory. From the glen all the way past Frenig Volcano.”

  “What about Halberd Keep?” Pryvyd asked, his voice rising with concern.

  “It’s in bad shape,” Spraved said. “A pack of golems blitzed it in the middle of the night. They tore down the outer walls before we could run them off. We’ve been ambushing golems here, hoping to give the other soldiers a chance to rebuild before the next attack.”

  “We have to reach the Oracle of Oak,” Wily insisted. “The safety of all Panthasos is depending on it.”

  “Then we will take you,” she said. “Despite your company.”

  Spraved approached Moshul and looked up at him. “Sorry about the spears,” she said. “It’s hard to see very far in these dark woods.” Then she gave Moshul another hard stare. “And it looks like I might have missed an incredible sight. You’re beautiful. Someone had a real eye when they put you together.”

  Moshul looked surprised. He signed something to Odette.

  “He says that he is a mistake,” Odette said. “Unfinished.”

  “He doesn’t look like a mistake to me,” Spraved said.

  Moshul signed again, and Odette translated. “He says he doesn’t even have a mouth.”

  “And it doesn’t look like you need a mouth to speak,” Spraved replied. “Perhaps you can say more without a mouth than you would have ever said with one.”

  Moshul dropped his hands to his sides. He appeared to be at a loss for words. Even more so than normal.

  * * *

  AS THE GROUP moved north through the woods, Spraved’s soldiers kept a tight circle around the travelers, as if the trees themselves could attack at any moment. They were on high alert; even the slightest noise was reason enough to raise their spears in defense.

  By the time they exited Opake, Wily was surprised to find it was already late in the afternoon. The sun was setting to the west, coloring the clouds a deep orange and pink. Since the very first sunset Wily had seen, he had been amazed by the seemingly magical ability of nature to change the color of the sky. But it wasn’t just the sky that looked amazing; the rolling hills in the distance were covered with a bewildering tangle of twisting blue lines that crisscrossed and overlapped.

  “What are those?” Roveeka asked from high atop Moshul’s shoulders. “Sleeping snakes?”

  “The roots of the Great Blue Oak,” Odette said. “They all lead back to a single tree. That’s where the oracle sits, watching the world.”

  “They say the roots stretch beyond these hills as well,” Pryvyd added. “Twisting below the surface of the earth to every corner of Panthasos. That’s how the tree and the oracle know so much.”

  “A tree is just a plant,” Wily said. “How can it know anything?”

  Valor chimed in from ahead. “Sometimes a tree can be brilliant and a person can be a fool.”

  “I’m not a fool,” he said.

  “All men and women who sit on chairs and think that it brings them power are fools,” Valor replied. “And you might be the biggest one of all. I heard someone mention that you’re afraid of butterflies. Is it their big teeth that scare you? Or their claws?”

  “I was afraid at first,” Wily responded. “But that’s just because I didn’t know any better.”

  “So what changed?” Valor taunted.

  It was almost completely dark when the companions and the soldiers of Halberd Keep reached the first of the twisting blue roots. They followed them all the way to a glen with an enormous blue-barked oak tree growing in its middle. The tree’s leaves were an even brighter hue than its roots; they matched the color of Odette’s eyes.

  A small woman sat cross-legged on a solid mesh of roots that was so tightly packed, it appeared to be a bumpy wooden floor. Her long, gray-blue hair snaked down her shoulders like the roots curving over the nearby hills. Between her legs, she cradled a bowl overflowing with acorns.

  They had found the Oracle of Oak.

  “We’ll keep watch over the glen,” Spraved said as she directed her fellow knights to form a circle around the tree, “but be quick. It’s not safe to stay long in the open.”

  When the oracle saw Wily and his friends approaching, she stuck her hand deep into the bowl and pulled out a handful of the acorns. She shook them in her hand and then threw them down onto the wooden nest of roots before her. She leaned forward and, with childlike glee, examined each. She let out a loud hearty laugh of delight, as if she had just opened a gift she’d been hoping to receive.

  “I see you found the trapsmith of Carrion Tomb,” the Oracle of Oak said, her voice crackling like the knuckles of a bone soldier waking up from a long slumber in the crypts.

  “Your acorns left out some very important details the last time we came to you,” Odette said as she dismounted her horse. “Like the fact that Wily was also the son of the Infernal King.”

  “The acorns tell me all,” the Oracle of Oak said. “But I am more selective with what I share.”

  “Let’s cut to the chase,” Valor said impatiently. “We need to find a tunnel that leads to the Below.”

  “Not so fast, young lady,” the oracle said. “You need to pay me first.”

  Pryvyd reached into his pouch and pulled out one of the large sapphires Lumina had given them. He tossed it into the bowl of acorns.

  The Oracle of Oak smiled, snatched an acorn off the ground, and bit down on it with her hard gray-blue teeth. The outer layer cracked open and she looked inside the broken nut. After a moment, she stuck her long fingernail into the dried pith and pulled out a small, slithering grub.

  “What does it mean?” Pryvyd asked.

  “It means nothing,” the Oracle of Oak said. “They are just a good snack.” She popped the squirming insect into her mouth. Her face puckered and her eyes watered. “Very sour,” she said. “Like a berry before it’s ripe.”

  The Oracle of Oak let out a laugh that was both full of joy and slightly unsettling. She swept her hand around the bowl of acorns, stirring them as if cooling a bowl of soup. She stared at the patterns that were forming. “There is a tunnel entrance to the Below at the western edge of the Black Lake,” she said. “But you will not be able to pass through that one.”

  “Are there other tunnel entrances?” Odette asked.

  Instead of answering, the oracle looked expectantly at Pryvyd until the knight tossed another sapphire into the bowl.

  “Yes,” the oracle responded. “There are four tunnel entrances to the Below. The Black Lake Tunnel. The Frenig Volcano Tunnel. The Frozen Desert Tunnel. And the Catacombs of Blood Tunnel. But stone golems stand guard at every one of them. Stalag already knows what you are planning.”

  “He does?” Wily asked. “How?”

  “Because I told him,” the Oracle of Oak replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

  “What?” Pryvyd asked alarmed. “Why would you do that?”

  “You’re a traitor to the whole land,” Odette exclaimed.

  “He paid my price,” the oracle said. “He asked about tunnels to the Below. Just like you asked about tunnels to the Below. I told you both the truth. I answer the questions that are being asked.”

  Something in the way the Oracle of Oak phrased that last statement made Wi
ly think of the Skull of Many Riddles. There was a clue hidden in what she had said. Wily moved to Pryvyd’s side and grabbed a sapphire from the bag. He tossed it to the oracle.

  “Is there any way of reaching the Below,” Wily asked, “other than through a tunnel entrance?”

  The oracle smiled. “Yes,” she said. “There is a hole at the center of Frenig Volcano that will take you to the Below. Or at least part of the way there. There are no stone golems at the top of the volcano. Only at the bottom.”

  “Are you talking about the Lava Crown?” Odette asked. “There is no path to the center of the crown and no steps down it. Only the ash gulls fly in and out.”

  “That is the hole to the Below,” the oracle said.

  “Maybe we could fly in,” Roveeka suggested. “Build a mechanical birk just like we did to get into the Infernal Fortress a few months ago.”

  “I’ve seen the Lava Crown,” Odette said. “It’s not wide enough for a mechanical bird to fly through. And besides, that mechanical bird was barely strong enough to lift Wily, let alone all of us.”

  “Could you quell a flying beast and get it to carry us down?” Roveeka asked Valor.

  “Convince a giant eagle to fly into a ring of lava?” Valor scoffed. “Animals have a strong sense of self-preservation. That will never happen.”

  “We need a bridge,” Pryvyd said.

  “It would be impossible to build,” Wily countered. “We would need support beams. And those would just melt into the lava.”

  “Not if the bridge floated,” Pryvyd said.

  “How would that happen?” Odette asked.

  “Halo wax,” Pryvyd said. “A lot of it.”

  “I’ve never heard of it,” Wily said.

  “Because it is a sworn secret of the Knights of the Golden Sun,” Pryvyd replied. “It lightens the load. A thimble of the wax smeared on our armor makes it light as a feather. It’s how we never tire of wearing our armor or shields.”

  “I thought you were just really strong,” Roveeka said.

  “I’m strong too,” Pryvyd said. “If you put enough halo wax on an object, it will float. Not high off the ground, maybe a few inches. But we don’t need our bridge to float very high. Just enough to keep it out of the lava.” Pryvyd called out to Spraved. “Was the wax vault breached at Halberd Keep?”