A hand lay in the dirt.
Barclay’s stomach gave a violent turn. A golden Beast Mark stretched over the hand’s fingers in the shape of a serpent’s tail.
“Is that…?” he asked, and Viola nodded.
The two dropped to the ground and, with their hands, began to dig him out.
Finally they freed Tadg’s head and chest. Viola felt for his pulse, and her shoulders relaxed. “He’s not dead.”
“I don’t even think he’s injured,” Barclay said. His sweater was covered in dirt, but not blood. Clutched in Tadg’s other hand was the cap of a mushroom. It was suctioned to his palm, and Barclay recognized it instantly as part of a Stoolip. He pulled it off, and it made a popping sound.
Tadg’s eyes fluttered open, as though he’d been having a pleasant dream. Then he looked at Barclay and Viola with a lopsided sort of frown, like he wasn’t sure if he was awake or not.
“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice slurred.
“A squirrel Beast buried you,” Barclay told him. “Like a nut.”
“Didn’t you come in third in the practical?” Viola grabbed the top of the Stoolip and threw it at Tadg’s face. It bounced off his forehead and fell into his lap. “How could you be so careless?”
He stared at it blankly for a moment before jolting up. “Soren—how long have I been—when did you both—?”
“Midwinter is still tomorrow,” Viola assured him. “But we do need to get moving if we’re going to catch him.”
“Why did you both come and not Runa?” he asked.
“Runa was arrested for your father’s murder,” Barclay blurted out. Viola shot him a sharp look, and Barclay knew there were probably softer ways he could have put that, but they didn’t have the time.
Tadg shot Viola an annoyed glance. “Your father really knows how to pick High Keepers. Erhart is going to get Sycomore and every town beyond in the Woods destroyed.”
“Not if we stop Soren,” Barclay said determinedly.
Tadg staggered to his feet and gave them a strangled laugh. “You’re not coming. You’ll only get in my way.”
“You’d still be buried if it wasn’t for us!” Viola growled.
“Neither of you know Soren like I do. What he’s capable of—”
“Don’t I?” Barclay snapped.
“You don’t know Legendary Beasts like I—”
“I’ve studied Gravaldor forages,” Viola countered.
Something dark crossed Tadg’s face. “You’re friends with his apprentices! For all I know, your father is in league with Soren—and I don’t trust the Horn of Dawn either—”
“We’re not friends with Ethel and Abel,” Barclay said.
“And Cyril isn’t my Master,” Viola finished.
Barclay wasn’t surprised bywhatViola said, only that she finally admitted it. He wanted to ask her about it, and by Tadg’s expression, it looked like he did too.
But both were stopped by a huff. That was the only word for the sound, like something letting out a great deep breath.
The three of them turned and came face-to-face with a set of nostrils.
They looked up. The Beast in front of them was nearly fifteen feet tall. Barclay counted four legs, three tails, and two giant tusks sharp enough to pierce a man through.
It was a boar, if boars were as large as buildings and had pelts rougher than mountain rock. Bugs buzzed and crept all over its skin—some normal fleas and ticks, others small Beasts.
