"I see," the tiger said. Transforming into a hulking gorilla, Niko walked over to the throne and retrieved an iron key ring. "Follow me."
The gorilla led them out of a door in the rear corner of the hall, then underground by way of a winding stairwell. In the gloomy hall at the bottom, the gorilla used a key to open an iron door, then changed back into a tiger. Bracken conjured up a light.
Beyond the door they found a room stocked with weapons and armor. Kendra gawked at the racks of halberds, spears, javelins, tridents, axes, cudgels, maces, mauls, and an endless supply of arrows and quarrels. The armor ranged from heavy plate mail that would transform the wearer into a human tank to light leather pieces that would hardly hinder movement. Shields of countless shapes and sizes hung on two walls.
"Who is in here?" the tiger snarled. "I could smell you from the corridor. Come out at once!"
A pile of shields in a far corner of the room shifted and clattered as a shamefaced man stood up. He wore black leather armor studded with iron. His thick black hair fell in a braid to his waist. A long mustache drooped around his mouth.
"Jonas," Niko accused sharply. "How could you?"
"I fear no beast," he said, rough voice quavering, his English heavily accented, "but sorcery dissolves my courage."
"You were his sworn man!" Niko bellowed.
Jonas hung his head. "I am an oathbreaker."
"You are an undertaker," Niko said. "I task you with disposal of the remains of the fallen, friend and foe. The cairn for Roon had best be a monument to outlast the ages. After that, go where you will, but take nothing with you. May you never forget the shame of this day. Pray we never meet again."
"As you say." The man bowed stiffly and exited the armory, avoiding any eye contact.
"I suppose there had to be one coward in the bunch," Niko grumbled. "Jonas was never the most eager man on a hunt. He tended to hang back when things got dicey. He should at least have enough sense to erect a proper cairn."
"Are any of the arms off-limits?" Bracken asked.
"Take what you need and more," Niko offered. "I can envision no more fitting use for these armaments than to wreak vengeance upon our destroyers."
Bracken turned to Kendra. "Let's get you fitted into leather armor. We have work to do."
Chapter 21 The Singing Sisters
Before embarking on this trip, Seth had forgotten how fast Vanessa drove. Now she was zooming along Missouri back roads near the Mississippi River. As they careened around corners, he swayed back and forth, held in place only by his seat belt. Several times he had felt certain that the enormous pickup would flip over, but the tires had remained flat on the road, seldom even squealing.
After leaving Fablehaven in an SUV with the satyrs in the back and Hugo sprawled on the roof, Vanessa had driven nearly an hour to reach an old contact who dealt in high-end automobiles. A few minutes on a computer informed Vanessa that four of her seven false identities had been compromised, but she assured Seth that the remaining three personas had valid passports and licenses, as well as access to millions of dollars.
Transferring the funds electronically, Vanessa had purchased a powerful black pickup with an extended cab and burly tires. Seth had felt like he needed a stepladder to climb into the passenger seat. The satyrs enjoyed plenty of room in the backseat, and the presence of Hugo in the bed did not seem to strain the formidable engine. At first Seth had felt exposed with the golem in the back, until Vanessa reminded him that to most people, Hugo looked like a pile of dirt.
So far, they had slept only in the truck. Seth and the satyrs dozed whenever they wanted. Vanessa caught a few hours here and there when they stopped for fuel or meals.
Finally slowing her aggressive pace, Vanessa pulled off to the side of the road. They had come south from St. Louis on 1 -55 for some distance before leaving the highway. Now she consulted her GPS, the letter from Patton, and a detailed map of the area.
The letter from Patton had plenty of details about finding the Singing Sisters, but lacked much information about what to do once they got there. After the many specifics Patton had shared about handling Cormac, Seth felt disappointed to have considerably less advice for the bigger challenge. All he knew for sure was that he needed to strike a bargain with the Sisters or they would take his life.
"Want me to drive?" Newel offered. "Then you can concentrate on navigating."
"Not in this lifetime," Vanessa replied calmly.
"I can't be a crazier driver than you," Newel pouted.
"It's more complicated than it looks," she replied. "I think we're almost there." Shifting the truck into drive, she set the map aside, accelerated, and turned onto a rutted dirt road.
"Can we get more fast food?" Doren asked. "After," she answered tersely. "I want burritos," Newel said.
"No way," Doren disagreed. "Cheeseburgers and curly fries."
"Toasted ravioli," Newel countered.
"Those were interesting," Doren conceded.
Thanks to Vanessa's illegal speeding and indefatigable driving, they had only been on the road two days since leaving Fablehaven. Every time the satyrs had spotted a fast food joint that they recognized from a commercial, they had hollered for a meal break. Vanessa had not always conceded, but whenever an opportunity was presented, Newel and Doren had inexhaustibly consumed milkshakes, burgers, sandwiches, tacos, nachos, pretzels, nuts, beef jerky, trail mix, soda, doughnuts, candy bars, cookies, crackers, and aerosol cheese. Of the fifty most impressive belches Seth had witnessed in his life, all had occurred on this road trip.
"I hate to interrupt the feasting," Vanessa said, "but we did come here for a purpose. Let's try to focus on something besides sweet fat and salty fat for the next little while."
"Some of us have fast metabolisms," Doren mumbled.
"We just want fuel in the tank before we risk our necks," Newel complained.
"You want nutrition?" Seth asked. "Remind me to teach you guys about the food pyramid."
"A pyramid made of food?" Doren said reverently.
"We are your humble pupils," Newel pledged.
Up ahead, the Mississippi River came into view again. Perhaps twenty yards across the water, a long island paralleled the shore. The dirt road ended at a sprawling, ramshackle shack roofed with aluminum siding. A rusted, antique truck sat on blocks off in the weeds. Beyond a dusty tire swing, Seth spotted a run-down dock and a weathered raft.