Free ArchEnemy by Frank Beddor Page A

WILMA’s ultimate strength would be compromised, but he didn’t.”
    “Excellent.” Arch smiled—he had chosen his ministers well. “The caterpillar did not warn me of sabotage, or reveal the truth to Redd, because he is plotting something that apparently requires me and Redd still to be pitted against each other. The caterpillar knew if he gave me an opening, I’d take it. The question becomes: How long does he believe I will continue to be a bit player in his subterfuge, whatever it is?”
    “But, my liege, what of this Everqueen he mentioned?” a minister asked.
    “The caterpillar will say what he must to manipulate Redd.”
    “Your Majesty,” another minister whispered, “don’t you think the oracle knows of this conversation?”
    Arch waved off the question. He assumed the caterpillar was aware of everything he said. He was counting on it. “The tribes have arrived at the various coordinates I assigned for the siege?” he asked.
    “They have, Your Highness.”
    “And Redd’s old rabble?”
    “They couldn’t be more obedient if you’d recruited them yourself.”
    Arch stood, thrust his head and arms into a coat of armor resembling reptilian skin, its scales medallion-sized plates impenetrable to blade and crystal shot, to whipsnake grenade and spikejack tumbler. He strapped on his leg armor and hefted his knobkerrie.
    “Ripkins, Blister, stay close to me throughout, but if we should cross with Redd or Alyss in any of the fighting, you have my leave to stray. They’re to be shown no mercy. The same goes for Hatter Madigan and that daughter of his—absolutely no mercy.”
    “No mercy, no problem,” Ripkins said, flexing his fingerprint sawteeth.
    “More like a pleasure,” Blister muttered, pulling off his gloves.
    The bodyguards followed Arch into the Doomsine battle, and all along the perimeter of Wondertropolis, Boarderland’s twenty other tribes—each with two platoons’ worth of Redd’s mercenaries mingled among them—marched out from their various locations to storm Wonderland’s capital city.

CHAPTER 14
    T HEIR NUMBERS were greatly diminished. Thousands strong not half a lunar hour before, Redd’s minions now amounted to no more than her top military rank. Vollrath, The Cat, Sacrenoir, Siren Hecht, Mr. Van de Skülle, Alistaire Poole—with their mistress, they had paused deep in the Antic Arbor to catch their breath, none yet venturing a word aloud, as if waiting for Redd to deny she was without imagination. But each of them knew: If Mistress Heart had her powers, they would not now be in the arbor, nor so few.
    Trees spat and snarled. A claw-like branch scraped across Alistaire Poole’s shoulders. A vine slithered wet against Siren Hecht’s arm, leaving a trail of sludge; another coiled briefly around Sacrenoir’s foot before slinking into the underbrush.
    “This place is gross,” Siren said.
    The others grunted, nodded in agreement, but Redd was too preoccupied to care about her immediate surrroundings. How had Arch known she was without imagination? Why would it ever have occurred to him to think of it? She’d not been dumb enough to betray the fact by her behavior.
    “How do you think he knew?” The green caterpillar glided out from the arbor’s darkest depths, an impenetrable weave of vines untying itself to let him pass.
    Redd’s voice quavered with rage. “ You told him.”
    “Ah,” said the caterpillar, his face spreading with a grin, “I might have supplied the king with a wealth of silk, which the other oracles and I produced. I might even have informed the king what effects certain combinations and patterns of this woven silk would have—if roughly positioned over the Heart Crystal—on imagination in general. But I cannot take credit for what he did not need me to tell him.”
    “You mean he did this to me?”
    “With my guidance.”
    Redd lurched at the great worm, but he vanished before she could so much as aim the deadly end of her scepter at his