Free The Secret of Dreadwillow Carse by Brian Farrey Page A

to pass the imagined barrier. She ground her teeth, pushing back with what little will remained. All these dark thoughts. They didn’t belong to her. The Carse was responsible.
This isn’t my despair
, she reminded herself.
This isn’t my despair
.
    Once she realized this, she held her ground for the very first time. She couldn’t move forward past the rock, but she didn’t have to run. Aon smiled grimly at the darkness. “Stalemate,” she whispered.
    The slime ponds on either side of her path belched. Giant bubbles rose to the top of the mire and popped. Aon gripped the lantern tightly, preparing to use it as a weapon. She had to be ready for anything. She’d never seen the muck churn so violently.
    She watched as something short and bulbous emerged, as if forming from the mud itself. The implike creature that stepped onto the path appeared to be made of wet clay and weedy flotsam, head and body in one misshapen sphere. It resembled a toad but was the size of a large dog. Its stubby, taloned feet—covered in black warts—pawed at the moist soil as it struggled to stand upright. It coughed repeatedly—the long, spindly arms on either side of its head flailing—until it spat a thick green liquid at Aon’s feet.
    A second, identical imp surfaced and joined its partner to block Aon’s exit. The white-hot fear inside her chest threatened to explode as the creatures approached. She’d never seen anything like these beasts before. They looked like monsters from a fairy tale.
    Both creatures gurgled and shook, their enormous eyes raking over every inch of Aon.
    â€œShe does not belong here,” the first imp said.
    Aon hadn’t expected to hear the imps speak. She considered: if they could speak, could they also maybe . . . sing?
    â€œPerhaps she was sent . . . ,” the second imp mused.
    â€œYes,” Aon said quickly, sensing an opportunity, “I was sent.”
    â€œAs food,” the second imp finished as a gob of saliva tumbled over its jaw and down its muddy chin.
    The pair waddled slowly toward Aon, who backed up until she tripped on a root. She held up the royal crest.
    â€œLook!” she said. “See? Do you know this?”
    The imps immediately stopped, their lips drawing back in surprise.
    â€œOh,” the first creature said. “The Highness.”
    â€œYes,” Aon said with a sigh of relief. “Princess Jeniah sent—”
    â€œWe have been expecting the Highness,” the second creature said. It bent low in what Aon assumed was a bow. “We live to guide the Highness.”
    They think I’m the princess
, Aon thought. Of the Monarchy’s spare laws, there were probably punishments for pretending to be royalty. But going to a dungeon would be welcome if breaking the law kept her from being eaten.
    She stood and squared her shoulders, as she imagined the real princess must do all the time. “I come here seeking information about the Carse.”
    The first creature’s jowls quivered. “But of course, the Highness. Pirep only lives to serve.”
    Aon started at the name. She quickly composed herself when the imp eyed her suspiciously. “Pirep,” Aon repeated with a nod. She turned to the second creature. “And you . . . You must be Tali?”
    â€œTali, the Highness,” the second creature said with a croak. “Tali lives to serve. And eat. Tali lives to eat and serve.”
    It can’t be
, Aon thought. It was a coincidence. A very strange coincidence.
    â€œIf you know who I am,” Aon said coolly, “then you know I am
not
to be eaten.”
    Both creatures shook their heads vigorously, sending flecks of spittle and slime in every direction. “Oh no, the Highness,” Pirep said. “Pirep and Tali will guide and not eat.”
    â€œBut maybe eat later,” Tali muttered.
    Pirep thumped Tali behind the ear. “No! No eating! Guiding!”