The Tangle Box by Terry Brooks

Abernathy caught his breath. What if it was the black-cloaked stranger? He closed his eyes involuntarily.

“Biggar?” a familiar voice called tentatively.

Horris Kew’s plow-nosed face shoved into view as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Abernathy stayed perfectly still, unable to believe his good fortune.

“Biggar?” the other called once more, and came inside the cave.

The stone door began to close behind him. Abernathy moved between the door and the conjurer, and said, “Hello, Horris.”

When Horris turned, Abernathy leapt on him and bore him to the floor. Horris shrieked and tried to break free, struggling mightily. He was all bony arms and legs, and Abernathy couldn’t hold him. Horris squirmed out from under his attacker, dragged himself to his feet, and reached for the door. Desperate to hold him, Abernathy fastened his teeth in the other’s worn supplicant’s robes and braced himself on all fours. Horris tried to pull free, but couldn’t quite manage it. Abernathy growled. The two struggled back and forth in front of the door, neither able to gain an advantage.

Then Horris Kew caught sight of the Tangle Box, shrieked anew, tore himself free with a mighty rip, and snatched up the box. He was making for the door and safety, kicking out at Abernathy furiously, when Fillip and Sot charged out of the darkness and catapulted into him, knocking him from his feet and flat on his back where he lay gasping for breath.

Abernathy took back the Tangle Box, started to give it to Fillip, and thought better of the idea. Using his free hand, he hauled Horris Kew back to his feet and shook him so hard he could hear the other’s teeth rattle.

“You listen to me, you troublesome fraud!” he hissed angrily. “You do exactly as I say or you will regret the day you were born!”

“Let me go!” Horris Kew pleaded. “None of this is my fault! I didn’t know!”

“You never know!” Abernathy snapped. “That’s your problem! What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I came looking for Biggar,” Horris managed, swallowing his fear in great gulps of breath. “Where is he? What have you done with him?”

Abernathy waited for the other’s breathing to slow a beat, then brought them nose-to-nose. “The Gnomes ate him, Horris,” he said softly. Horris Kew’s eyes went wide. “And if you do not do what I tell you, I am going to let them eat you as well. Do you understand me?”

Horris nodded at once, unable to speak.

Abernathy moved back a fraction of an inch. “You can start by opening the cave door and getting us out of here. And do not attempt any tricks. Do not try running. I shall have a good grip on you the entire time.”

He propelled Horris back to the entrance, Fillip and Sot following close behind, and waited while the terrified conjurer worked the rune sequence and triggered a release of the locks. The door opened ponderously, and conjurer, scribe, and Gnomes stumbled back out into the light.

Abernathy swung Horris Kew back around to face him. “Despite what you think, this is indeed all your fault, Horris, everything that has happened, so I do not want to hear you say anything else. You have one chance to set things right; and I suggest you take it. I want the High Lord set free. I want High Lord Ben Holiday back in Landover. You put him in the box; now you get him out!”

Horris Kew swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, his cheeks and mouth making a sucking noise. He looked like a scarecrow left out in the field long after its usefulness has reached an end. He looked like he might collapse into a pile of straw. “I don’t know if I can do that,” he whispered.

Abernathy gave him the meanest look he could muster. “You had better hope you can,” he replied softly.

“But what will they do to me once they’re free? Holiday might understand, but what about the dragon and the witch?”

“You will have bigger worries if you do not set them free.” Abernathy was in no mood to bargain. “Speak the words of the spell, Horris. Right now.”