Read Online Saving Thanehaven by Catherine Jinks - Free Book Online
Authors: Catherine Jinks
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from this rhythmic
crunch-crunch-crunch
by a sudden burst of movement as a gargoyle explodes into the sky, shooting up from behind the big white carriage like a boulder flung by a war machine. Even though it can’t possibly be Doddypoll, this creature looks exactly the same—right down to its curly warthog tusks.
Noble is confused. He watches the gargoyle diveand bank, then fly off toward Thanehaven. It soars like an eagle, rarely moving its wings. Soon, it’s just a dark speck against the brooding clouds.
How could it have freed itself without Lorellina’s key?
“Ahem,” says a voice.
Noble lets his gaze drop. Then his jaw drops, too.
He’s staring at a clone. A double. An exact replica. He’s staring at another Noble, who sports his own huge shoulders and narrow waist, his own chiseled features, his own level ice-blue glower and sun-streaked hair. Even the man’s scars and studded wristbands are the same as his.
The only difference is that the false Noble is wearing boots—and carrying a Tritus in his right hand.
“What—who …?” Noble stammers.
His doppelgänger seems unconcerned. “Ah,” says the false Noble. “So
you’re
my evil twin.”
“Your what?” Noble is stumped. Who is this person? Where has he come from?
“You’ve been corrupted,” the false Noble declares, striding forward as he adjusts his grip on the Tritus. Noble can feel his own muscles tightening in sympathy. He knows exactly how the false Noble is going to swing at him, because he himself would be doing the same, if he were carrying Smite. Unfortunately, he isn’t.
So Noble does something that he wouldn’t normally do. He turns to the guards for protection.
“That man is an intruder!” he informs them. “He’s the one you’ve always feared! Don’t let him through!”
The guards step forward and close ranks, leaving Noble behind as they do so. They now stand between him and the false Noble, who nevertheless decides to launch an attack. The first blow is just about to fall when a familiar voice rings out, freezing the false Noble in midswing. “Wait! Stop!” the voice cries.
Peering over the heads of the guards, Noble is astonished to catch sight of Princess Lorellina. For some reason, she’s emerged from behind the big carriage. He wonders how on earth she’s ended up back there; the last time he saw her, she was heading into the fortress.
“You! Stonebrush! Fettle! What are you doing?” She’s still addressing the guards. “Are you
shielding
an enemy of Harrow?”
“I’m not—” Noble begins, but she doesn’t let him finish.
“A guard’s job is to fight our enemies, not to protect them,” she continues, as if he hasn’t spoken. She strides straight past the false Noble, then breaks through the armored line and marches toward the gatehouse. “Come!” she exclaims, beckoning to the soldiers. “Our enemy has met his match, and there are more enemies inside who must be dealt with.”
Noble can’t believe his ears. “But—”
“Come with me, you men! This fortress has been corrupted!”
Corrupted?
Suddenly, Noble understands. She might look like the princess—she might sound like the princess—but she’s not the princess. She’s a false princess.
“Wait!” he warns the guards. “Don’t follow her! That’s not Princess Lorellina!”
They don’t listen, though, and he doesn’t really blame them. Their sovereign lady has just announced that he’s an enemy of Harrow. Why should they believe a word he says?
He’s standing there helplessly, watching the guards surge after the false princess, when someone else bustles by. It’s the man in the white coat, trotting along in the wake of Lorellina’s escort like a baggage mule. “Look!” warns Noble. “Men of Harrow! There’s an enemy following you!” But only the man in the white coat seems to hear.
He pauses for an instant, his expressionless stare fixed on Noble. “I’m not their enemy.
You’re
their enemy now,” he
crunch-crunch-crunch
by a sudden burst of movement as a gargoyle explodes into the sky, shooting up from behind the big white carriage like a boulder flung by a war machine. Even though it can’t possibly be Doddypoll, this creature looks exactly the same—right down to its curly warthog tusks.
Noble is confused. He watches the gargoyle diveand bank, then fly off toward Thanehaven. It soars like an eagle, rarely moving its wings. Soon, it’s just a dark speck against the brooding clouds.
How could it have freed itself without Lorellina’s key?
“Ahem,” says a voice.
Noble lets his gaze drop. Then his jaw drops, too.
He’s staring at a clone. A double. An exact replica. He’s staring at another Noble, who sports his own huge shoulders and narrow waist, his own chiseled features, his own level ice-blue glower and sun-streaked hair. Even the man’s scars and studded wristbands are the same as his.
The only difference is that the false Noble is wearing boots—and carrying a Tritus in his right hand.
“What—who …?” Noble stammers.
His doppelgänger seems unconcerned. “Ah,” says the false Noble. “So
you’re
my evil twin.”
“Your what?” Noble is stumped. Who is this person? Where has he come from?
“You’ve been corrupted,” the false Noble declares, striding forward as he adjusts his grip on the Tritus. Noble can feel his own muscles tightening in sympathy. He knows exactly how the false Noble is going to swing at him, because he himself would be doing the same, if he were carrying Smite. Unfortunately, he isn’t.
So Noble does something that he wouldn’t normally do. He turns to the guards for protection.
“That man is an intruder!” he informs them. “He’s the one you’ve always feared! Don’t let him through!”
The guards step forward and close ranks, leaving Noble behind as they do so. They now stand between him and the false Noble, who nevertheless decides to launch an attack. The first blow is just about to fall when a familiar voice rings out, freezing the false Noble in midswing. “Wait! Stop!” the voice cries.
Peering over the heads of the guards, Noble is astonished to catch sight of Princess Lorellina. For some reason, she’s emerged from behind the big carriage. He wonders how on earth she’s ended up back there; the last time he saw her, she was heading into the fortress.
“You! Stonebrush! Fettle! What are you doing?” She’s still addressing the guards. “Are you
shielding
an enemy of Harrow?”
“I’m not—” Noble begins, but she doesn’t let him finish.
“A guard’s job is to fight our enemies, not to protect them,” she continues, as if he hasn’t spoken. She strides straight past the false Noble, then breaks through the armored line and marches toward the gatehouse. “Come!” she exclaims, beckoning to the soldiers. “Our enemy has met his match, and there are more enemies inside who must be dealt with.”
Noble can’t believe his ears. “But—”
“Come with me, you men! This fortress has been corrupted!”
Corrupted?
Suddenly, Noble understands. She might look like the princess—she might sound like the princess—but she’s not the princess. She’s a false princess.
“Wait!” he warns the guards. “Don’t follow her! That’s not Princess Lorellina!”
They don’t listen, though, and he doesn’t really blame them. Their sovereign lady has just announced that he’s an enemy of Harrow. Why should they believe a word he says?
He’s standing there helplessly, watching the guards surge after the false princess, when someone else bustles by. It’s the man in the white coat, trotting along in the wake of Lorellina’s escort like a baggage mule. “Look!” warns Noble. “Men of Harrow! There’s an enemy following you!” But only the man in the white coat seems to hear.
He pauses for an instant, his expressionless stare fixed on Noble. “I’m not their enemy.
You’re
their enemy now,” he
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