Fearless

The men riding towards the watchtower were the same ones Fox had seen behind the Witch’s stable, but as they rode closer, she noticed that the Goyl wasn’t among them. Nor was Jacob.



‘Calm!’ Valiant whispered to her. ‘It means nothing. Absolutely nothing.’



Yet Fox felt as though someone were forging iron rings around her heart.



He wasn’t with them.



They had killed him.



No, Fox!



They were four. All well armed. The Waterman was also missing, but they had brought the bloodhounds, and Fox was glad she wasn’t wearing fur. One of the men was very young, and another one was barely taller than Valiant. Fox recognised Louis of Lotharaine from the pictures of him standing by his father’s side. In the pictures he’d looked much taller. Fox could smell elven dust and toad spawn as he reined his horse just a few steps away from her.



‘You’re the vixen.’



It was half question, half stated fact. Louis’s voice was as unpleasant as his face. ‘A Dwarf? Is that all the reinforcements you could muster?’



The man with the dogs uttered a barking laugh.



Valiant gave Louis an indulgent smile. It was every Dwarf’s curse and blessing to be underestimated for his size. ‘Evenaugh Valiant. And with whom do I have the pleasure?’



Louis swayed in his saddle as he pushed back his jacket to reveal the gem-encrusted hilt of his sabre.



‘Louis Philippe Charles Roland, crown prince of Lotharaine.’



‘Impressive!’ Valiant replied. ‘But we Dwarfs, we’re all republicans. I hope you don’t take it personally. Anyway’ – he looked searchingly past the prince – ‘we had actually arranged to meet a Goyl.’



The bloodhounds were watching Fox. They were not as easily deceived by her body as humans were.



‘Where is Jacob?’ She’d promised the Dwarf to leave the talking to him, but she was tired of waiting.



The prince stared at her with that mixture of disgust and desire every shape-shifter was all too familiar with.



‘Where do you have the heart?’ he barked at her. ‘I bet you have it hidden under your clothes, like your fur.’



The hounds bared their fangs, and Louis gave the dog man a nod.



Valiant turned to the watchtower and gave a shrill whistle.



Two lumbering figures stepped out of the shadows behind the tower. The Giantlings had ice all over their clothes, and they stared rather unkindly at Louis. Nowhere had Giants once lived in as large numbers as in Lotharaine, and nowhere had they been hunted with as much abandon. Crookback had a collection of Giants’ heads, which he still liked to show off during state events.



‘Yes, I was forewarned,’ Valiant said while Louis tried to calm his shying horse. ‘I’ve had the dubious pleasure of doing business with your father. Why should I trust his son any more?’



The taller of the Giantlings gave a disapproving grunt, and one of the horses reared up.



It was the dog man who fired the shot. Maybe he was afraid for his bloodhounds, who were barking so furiously at the Giantling that he took a lumbering step towards them. The bullet hit him in the centre of his broad brow. His collapsing hulk buried the shooter as well as his dogs.



The other Giantling howled out with rage.



He yanked the prince from his saddle and shook him like a rag doll, his other fist blindly flailing about. He killed the baby face with one swipe; Fox could hear his neck snap. Valiant only just managed to jump to safety, and she retreated between the shying horses to find some shelter from the raging Giantling. In his fury, he trampled the rifle that had killed his companion, until its metal stuck to his soles like wilted leaves. Then he threw himself to his knees next to the lifeless body and wiped the blood from the shot-up forehead.



‘Like a Giantling’s vengeance,’ the saying went – for good reason.



Louis was spreadeagled on the trampled earth, and like the servant with the baby face, he was not moving. But the Bug Man was crawling on all fours to his master, staring in distress at the waxen face. Behind him, Valiant was groaning as he struggled to his feet, cursing all Giantlings.



The prince had two swindlesacks on his belt. Fox took them before the Dwarf got hold of them. She put her pistol to the Bug’s head.



‘Where is your prisoner?’



Louis stirred. The Bug Man sighed with relief and ran his spidery fingers over his master’s face. ‘The carriage,’ he stammered. His eyes were full of tears. Fox couldn’t tell whether they were tears of rage or of fear.



She caught one of the horses, ignoring Valiant’s calls.



The trail was easy to follow. A herd of cows wouldn’t have left clearer tracks, but the dark clouds over the mountains made it hard even for her to spot the carriage beneath the pines. The Waterman was tied to one of the wheels. Good. The scent of his scaly skin reminded Fox of the many damp caves she and Jacob had searched for abducted girls. When the Waterman spotted her, he started yanking angrily at his fetters, but Fox just walked past him.



Her hands trembled as she tore open the carriage door. The Bastard was all but invisible; only his eyes glinted through the dark like coins. Jacob’s face was streaked with blood, but he seemed unhurt otherwise. Fox cut his ropes. He stumbled as he climbed out of the carriage. Fox had seen this kind of exhaustion before.



‘How often?’



He rubbed his battered face and attempted a smile. ‘I really am glad to see you. Where is Valiant?’



‘How often, Jacob? Answer me!’



He took her hands. His fingers were cold. It’s a cold night, Fox. It means nothing. But she could see death all over his face.



‘One bite to go.’



Just one.



Breathe, Fox.



She pulled out the two swindlesacks she’d taken off Louis. She also gave Jacob the leather pouch where she kept the heart. This time his smile wasn’t quite as weary.



‘You also look exhausted.’ Jacob stroked her face. ‘Just as well this will all be over soon, one way or another. Right?’



He tucked the sacks into his coat pocket and leant into the carriage.



‘Keep searching,’ Fox heard him say. ‘There is a door. No onyx on the other side, no Thumblings, but there are some princes. Only a few of them wear crowns, though.’



‘Cut me loose!’ the Goyl replied with a hoarse voice. ‘Let’s find out once and for all which of us is the best.’



Jacob stepped back.



‘Another time,’ he said. ‘This one I can’t afford to lose.’



‘You would have lost a long time ago if the vixen didn’t keep saving your skin!’ The Goyl sounded like he was choking on his rage.



‘That’s correct,’ Jacob replied. ‘But it’s also nothing new.’



Then he slammed the carriage door shut.



CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN



HEAD. HAND. HEART.



The Giantling had already covered the body of his companion with stones. He’d also arranged the bodies of the other dead at his feet like offerings: the kitchen hand, the dog man and his two bloodhounds. The two who’d survived his rage lay bound and gagged by the wall of the watchtower: Louis and the Bug. Valiant was pacing up and down in front of them. He didn’t look happy at all.



‘Look at that!’ he yelled at Jacob. ‘What’ve you got me into this time? The Lotharainian crown prince! Luckily, he’s still alive, but that probably rules out Crookback as a buyer. Wasn’t it enough to make the Empress your enemy?’