Page 3 of The Howling (Monsters of the Yeavering #2)

T he guard prods me in the back with his staff, made of wood and gold. Not that the metal type matters. It can cause an injury regardless.

“I don’t have all day,” he says, making me move faster on the point of his weapon. “And I’m not spending any more time in the dungeons than necessary.”

“Oh really,” I toss over my shoulder. “Takes a special sort of guard for the dungeons, does it?”

“Yes,” he snarls in my ear. “You’ll see soon enough. And it takes a certain type of skivvy to end up in there too,” he says, venom dripping from his words.

We reach the bottom of the stairs, and the stench I’ve been trying to ignore increases to an almost overwhelming, sticky hideousness which might even be sentient. I cover my mouth and nose with the sleeve of my dress.

The Redcap doesn’t seem to notice it. He knocks three times on a huge wooden door, and it swings open.

“I brought fresh meat,” he calls out, planting a fist in the small of my back and shoving me through. “By order of Lord Guyzance.”

I trip over the hem of the dress because Kaitlyn is both thinner and taller than me, and I end up on my knees. I’m still swearing my head off when the sound of heavy boots makes me look up.

What glares down at me is something like a pile of rubbish with eyes. I can make out a biped shape, but it’s as if the thing has found every possible item it has ever encountered and stuck them to itself like a hermit crab.

It stinks.

“Fresh meat,” it growls.

“I’m working down here. Lord Guyzance sent me,” I say, attempting not to breathe in and making my voice sound weirdly guttural.

“A new worker. Fresh meat,” the thing says.

I hate the Redcap was right. There are worse things in Lord Guyzance’s castle than them. I get to my feet as quickly as I can, so I can get out of the way of this creature if I need to. But I feel a little under scrutiny, presumably because I can’t see any eyes.

It raises what passes for an arm and points down a narrow stone passage behind me. I don’t need any further invitation. Anything, anything has to be better than being in the vicinity of this mound of…I don’t know what.

The passage gets narrower and narrower, but I keep going, and I don’t look back until finally it opens out into a large double height cylindrical space where there are multiple cages.

Cages made of iron. Cages shrouded in darkness. Cages which smell worse than the bowels of hell.

Whatever is being held here, there’s no hope. A peal of deep, terrifying growls comes from the darkness. The sort of noises which could easily make me lose control of my bladder.

“Over here!” A high-pitched voice calls at me. “Over here!” An arm unfolds from the darkness and a finger beckons.

It’s not in one of the cells, so I have to hope it’s benign. Or benign enough I’m not going to be eaten by whatever is in the cages. Clutching my bag to my chest, I race through the gap between the cages and find myself suddenly in the light.

It’s a small, candle-lit cave. The wicks flicker due to the draught I created. There are more small passages leading off from the ante-chamber I am in.

“Hi,” the delicate creature in front of me says with a wave.

She has long dark hair, almost to the floor, and two tiny red horns poke out of it just past her forehead, like a tiny devil. Her clothing is something akin to fish scales, but her huge purple eyes are kindly.

“Hi,” I respond. “I’m Wynter. I was sent here by Lord Guyzance to work.”

“Ah! The new help,” she says, bustling away down one of the lit passages.

I follow. I don’t have much choice after all, and this place has to be better than the cages outside.

“I’m the Hedley Kow,” the creature says with a smile which is more fang-filled than I expected.

“The Hedley Kow?” I ask.

“I’m not the only one, I don’t think.” She puts a finger to her mouth. “I’ve been here for so long I’ve forgotten. You can call me Lilburn.”

“Are you the jailer?”

The Hedley Kow laughs loudly at my suggestion.

“No, I am…or I was…the skivvy. But now there are two of us,” she says, mirth radiating from her. “Providing neither of us get eaten.”

“I can assure you, I have no intention of being eaten. I want to survive.”

“To escape again?” She cocks her head on one side, her purple eyes searching me.

“I wasn’t escaping.” I don’t meet her gaze, instead looking around the room we’re in, which is furnished with two threadbare brown armchairs and a little fire blazing away in a hearth. “I was mushroom picking.”

“Look, you can’t fool this old mischief sprite,” the Hedley Kow says. “I know what you were doing.”

“And you’re going to tell me not to do it again?” I interrupt.

“I was going to tell you to plan a bit more in advance next time,” she says. “And probably not try it from the dungeons. Since the last break out, Lord Guyzance has upped the security.”

“Who broke out last time?” I ask.

“The Barghest,” she says, quietly. “And now he’s back, he won’t ever be free.”