by Brad Carsten
“Can you walk? We need to get out of here.
Quinn. Help me with Kaylyn.”
Quinn took over, while Liam snatched up her saddlebags. She hadn't moved since they'd brought her in, so everything was still where they’d left it.
The corridor and stairwell were deserted, and they found the innkeeper alone in the tavern gathering his things.
When he saw them, he yelped and fell back against the wall as though trying to climb into it.
“We need our horses,” Liam shouted, and had to repeat himself. “Hurry man, we need our horses, now.”
The innkeeper licked his lips, nervously. “I’ll—I’ll take you, just don't hurt me.”
“We're not going to hurt you, just go already.” Being caught with a wretched, especially one that was casting, would see them in chains if not strung up right alongside her.
They passed another one of those nightspawn lying at the entrance. The innkeeper kept a wide berth of it.
“Was that one of yours?” Liam asked Quinn.
“Yes, there was more than one out there. This one tried to follow me inside, but fortune smiling, there were enough men in the tavern to stop it.” He gave the creature a swift kick in the ribs.
If anyone was drunk enough to help him fight off the nightspawn, they weren't drunk enough to stick around when they heard that a wretched was staying in the inn.
The innkeeper led them out back to the stables. His hands shook, as he unlocked the door.
“Thank you,” Kaylyn said, as she passed. “We mean you no harm and will be gone as soon as we can.”
He swallowed, but didn't say anything.
By the time they left the stable, a few members of the watch had already gathered in the street, clutching their feeble trudgeons and spears. At the sight of Kaylyn, they scattered leaving a clear path away from the inn.
The three horses galloped through the deserted streets; their hooves ringing off the cobbles.
At the gate, three of the guards lounged on barrels, which meant that word hadn't reached them yet.
“We need to leave,” Liam shouted ahead.
“The gate's closed. Come back tomorrow.”
Liam reached for his money bag, and the guard turned his head to spit. “Coin ain't going to make no difference—not with them things out there. Go back to wherever you came from, or we can throw you in a cell tonight.”
Shouts drifted from up the street. Those at the inn were building their courage. The guard's eyes slid past Liam, and his hand drifted down to his sword. “What's going on back there? Who are you!”
A second man went for his sword, and Liam had his bow out and an arrow nocked before the man had finished drawing. “We don't want any trouble. Just open the gate, and we'll leave.”
Quinn's hands tightened on his spear.
Two more swords drew to either side, and Liam turned his bow trying to keep them both in sight. There came a shout, as another two men ran along the wall towards them carrying bows. This was sliding out of control.
“We don't want trouble. We just want to be on our way.”
Kaylyn raised a hand, and the thick wooden beam barring the gate lifted, slowly, unsteadily into the air, and the gate creaked open.
When the watch realised what she was doing, they screamed and fell back. Some of them turned their swords towards the gate as though it may leap up and attack them.
One of the guards backed away, so quickly, he fell over a stack of barrels.
Liam kept his arrow trained on the two men approaching along the wall, as he slowly exited, and once through, he kicked his horse into a gallop.
Kaylyn kept her back straight. To those behind, she was the perfect image of confidence and grace, but from the front, her eyes were beginning to roll back.
Once they were out of sight of the gate, Liam helped her out of the saddle. “That was quick thinking. I didn't know how we were going to get out of that one. Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine. It’ll pass in a few minutes. If you can do me a favour and get my tonic out of my bag—That'll help.”
She must have been talking about the bottle of swirling liquid she'd retrieved from the wagon earlier. “Will that restore your energy?” He scratched through her bags, until his fingers closed around the bottle. It felt cold—it felt wrong, and it left tiny pin pricks all the way up his arm into his neck. Light failing, what was it?
“Sort of. It only masks the symptoms. It doesn't actually restore my energy, but it’ll help.” Her voice sounded dry and shaky.
He popped the cork and carefully pressed it to her lips. She barely took a sip before pushing it away again. “That's enough. That's enough. I’ve already pushed myself more than is wise. If I open myself to Gaharah and am not strong enough to contain it, it’ll consume me.”
She dropped her head into her hands, waiting for the effects to kick in, while Quinn stepped his horse around nervously. If not for the nightspawn, half the town would be after them by now. That wasn't much of a trade-off.
Liam returned the bottle as quickly as he could and wiped his hands off on his trousers. He didn't know what that could do to him if he held onto it for too long, but he didn't want to find out.
Liam stared off into the night wondering where in fate's name they should head to from here. He thought about their escape from Highton and wondered why those things kept coming after Kaylyn. There was something she wasn't telling them.
The nightspawn had come after her in the village—she admitted as much, but since then, their attack was relentless both in Brigwell and now Highton.
“There's something I don't understand.” He had to word it carefully. Even if she was less of a threat now that her power was depleted, she was still a wretched. “You said that they came after you in the village, but how did they find you? How do they keep finding you? They followed you to Brigwell, and back there, they even knew which room you were in.”
It took Kaylyn a while to collect her thoughts.
“Between our world and the land of the dead is a layer, like oil floating on water. It's filthy and slimy, but it's also somehow living. It's hard to explain without feeling it for yourself, but it’s called Gaharah, and it's the only way into the land of the dead. That is why death is so violent; it rips us out of our bodies and pulls us out of this world, and as we get closer to it, it brings sickness and frail bodies and despair. It comes with wars and starving people and people losing hope, and then sometimes, there are bulges where that power spills out into the natural world causing people to do terrible things to each other. They kill and destroy and hurt each other. That layer is evil; there's nothing good in it, and yet—and yet, it protects us all.”
“Protects us?” Quinn said. “How exactly does it protect us?”
“By keeping death at bay. Unfortunately, it's also where the nightspawn live.” Kaylyn got up, shakily. “This is where we draw our power from, and when we do, it taints us; it leaves a scent on us that the nightspawn can follow like cursed hounds, and they will keep coming; they'll never stop. If I can get a scrael, I can remove the scent, but the only person I know who makes them lives all the way in Luthengard.”
“But why you?” Liam said. “Even if you leave this scent, why do they keep coming after YOU?”
The cold wind was blowing in off the planes, and she wrapped her arms around herself but didn't say anything.
“Kaylyn, we can help you, but we have to know what we're getting into. Why are they coming after you?”
Kaylyn shut her eyes and when she spoke, it was in barely a whisper. “You asked if Kaylyn was a royal name. My name is Kaylyn of house Talendor.”
A deep silence descended over them.
Liam opened his mouth to speak—to say something, but he couldn't find the words.
“Wait, what?” Quinn said, giving a small shake of the head. “Are you telling me that you are Kaylyn of house Talendor—as in THE house Talendor—as in, the princess of Thamaria?”
She d
ug a ring out of her pocket. It was a signet ring bearing the royal crest. To be caught with that if you weren't a member of the family would mean certain death. Quinn's eyes suddenly widened. “Oh no. Those things I said about prince Thomwyn, and... You know I was just—I didn't mean it. You know that, right?”
“It doesn't matter anymore,” she said, staring at the ring.
“But you had disappeared?” Liam said. “I mean, the rumor was that you’d died.”
“I had to hide. When the kingdom fell, I was eight and—there were things I could do that so many people hate me for, and without the king's protection...” The tears spilled over onto her cheeks. “I'm sorry I pulled you into this. You've been so nice to me, but I shouldn't have brought you in.” She climbed unsteadily into her saddle.
“Why did you come to our village? What was so important about that trip?” He had to find out. It was now or never.
“I’m trying to find a child, and I thought your father may have some information about him.”
Liam kept his face smooth. He couldn't let her know what he was thinking; but the child? So, it was about him as Liam had feared, and she had simply come out and said it. “What was so special about this child?” he asked, carefully.
Kaylyn snorted in amusement and despair. “Nothing more than everything. Our kingdom's dying, and he holds the key to rescuing it. Without him, it’s over—everything is over.”
She stepped her horse around. “I take it that Luthengard is that way.” She pointed north, and Liam shook his head. She swung her hand south, and Liam nodded.
“It’s never where I expect it to be. Thank you. Once the kingdom's restored, if you ever find yourselves in the capital, come find me, and I'll make sure you’re well rewarded. And if you—if you want to visit me, that would be really nice. Just don't get lost out in this big world, okay?” She turned her horse and started down the path on her own.
For the second time, Liam felt conflicted about letting her go; he didn't think she was lying about the child and why she wanted him; she had no reason to lie—not to simple villagers like them. He had information that he couldn't give until he knew more, but somehow, he also didn't want her to go.
“I took them,” Liam said, which stopped her at least. “I took Captain Ardin to Gosspree-nor.”
She turned back to him; her eyes searching his. “But I thought your father...”
“He wasn't there when the soldiers arrived, so they offered me a ton of gold, and I took them.”
She covered her mouth. “You took them? You took them to Gosspree-nor? What was there? Liam what did you go there for?”
“There was a child that we had to get out of the village and escort to the capital.” There, he said it.
“What happened.” She climbed out of her saddle in a daze. “Tell me everything. Don't leave anything out.”
“I've first got some questions of my own.” She was still one of the wretched and now a member of the royal family that Captain Ardin was hiding the child from in the first place. Liam had to proceed with caution.
“Okay,” she said. “What do you want to know?”
“What's so important about the child?”
She looked from him to Quinn and back, and sighed. “I can't say. I would if I possibly could, but please believe me, I can't.”
“Kaylyn, I mean, your highness.” It was strange thinking of her as that.
“Kaylyn. Please, just Kaylyn.”
“Okay, Kaylyn. If I'm going to trust you with my secrets, then you're going to have to trust me too. Quinn and I are the only ones who know the details of that trip. I haven't told anyone, and I don't plan to either, unless I know that they'll be safe.”
“Why shouldn’t they be safe?”
“Well,”—he felt awkward saying it—“Look, what happened in Brigwell—”
“I saved the village. If I didn't do that, you'd all be dead now.”
“I know, but it's not why, but what.”
“You mean because I cast? Is that what this is about?”
“When I took the soldiers to Gosspree-nor, three wretched came after us—”
“We prefer to be called syphers.” She said it without much conviction. “That wasn't me who came after you, Liam. Ten years ago, I was eight. I've lost everything. Ten years ago you lost a king. I lost a king and my father. Why would I want to hurt the kingdom even more? But okay, if I need to earn your trust, then so be it. My brother was never meant to take the throne. None of us were.”
“What? Why wouldn't he inherit the throne?”
“For countless generations Thamaria’s held its power and grown, and the only reason we can do that is because we were able to assess someone's potential, right?”
“Okay?”
“Well, the same is true of the royal line. The queen is always chosen, not for love, but because she fits the king. Together they can produce a child that is capable of taking over the throne. That's why we've never had a weak king in our line. But my father was strong willed, and pig headed, and he chose love. They brought him the woman he should marry, and he sent her away, and he went off and married my mother instead, and he was perfectly faithful to her his whole life. He chose love over duty, and it destroyed the kingdom.”
“But prince Thomwyn is one of the great generals,” Quinn said. “Possibly one of the greatest alive today.”
Kaylyn nodded sadly. “And Mikael was one of the greatest warriors. Both of those traits were from my father's side, but to run a kingdom, especially a kingdom like this, you need to be so much more than just a great general, or just a great warrior. From the day we were assessed, my father had a group of assessors scouring the Kingdom and beyond looking for an heir—looking for someone who would not only make a great general, and a great fighter, but would have charisma and be tall and imposing and a great administrator and so much more. Father searched for a long time, and just before he died, he got the news that they had found something. I didn't know for sure, but what you said confirms everything.”
“That child was the heir to the throne?”
Kaylyn nodded, and Liam felt a cold chill running down his back.
Kaylyn looked over to Quinn. “You were wondering why prince Thomwyn has never had his coronation. That's because he knows the throne isn't his. He's fighting to protect the throne for another, but he has to know that he isn't fighting in vain. He suspected the truth, but up until now, we've had no proof of it.” She was starting to get excited. “That's why I came to your village. There was a rumor, and I hoped... I... That's all I could do, is hope.” She clutched her heart and muttered a silent prayer of thanks.
“When we arrived in Gosspree-nor,” Liam began, “there were three wrech—uh, syphers, waiting for us. The assessors had hidden the child on a farm, and they spread out the soldiers, so the syphers didn't know where to start searching...” Liam proceeded to tell her everything, and she didn’t move. She hardly dared to breathe. This wasn’t the first time Quinn had heard the story, but he too stood quietly listening to it all again.
***
Through the assembled crowd, The One Of Many found the scabot lying dead against the wall of the Paldrin inn. It's head was pounded in, and a second scabot was being dragged out of the tavern with its neck broken. The wretched's companions were proving to be a nuisance. He would have to deal with them as well.
His eyes slid up to the gap where the window used to be. At least one made it through. It wouldn't have gotten any closer to killing her than the others though; The One Of Many had no illusion of that, but it didn't have to kill her; all it had to do was use up her power. The girl was strong—incredibly strong; he wouldn't confront her when she was well rested, especially after he had seen what she had done in the village, and the amount of power she had pulled, but she also hadn't yet had a chance to recover.
He waited until the third carcass was brought downstairs, and then he pushed through the people towards it. The watch chased the ogling crowd back, but he saw all t
hat he needed to: a blade or a spear had killed it, not gaharah, and a smile crept across his lips.
She was weaker than he thought.
He paced back through the streets, at last discarding his frail and weak frame and drawing on the glorious form that had kings and nobleman trembling before him. He walked away from the town, feeling the power surging through him; away from the gate where ten of the watch lay slaughtered before it. He put his fingers to his lips, and a loud and clear whistle carried on the cool night air, and all around him came the excited barks of his Dughounds.
***
Kaylyn was the first to hear those blood curdling howls. First one and then the replies from different directions. It was so faint, she had to stop her horse to hear them properly.
Liam and Quinn were discussing where they could head to until morning. The child was taken west which wasn't much to go on, but there was also someone in Luthengard who could take the scent off Kaylyn, and that was also in the west, so that was the obvious place to head to, but first, they had to figure out where to go from here. They were busy making their plans, when Kaylyn put out her hand to still them. “Can you hear that?”
The sound came drifting in on the night; it was a mix between a dog's bark and a wolf's howl. Whatever it was, it chilled him to the bone.
“What is that?” Quinn said.
Kaylyn's eyes snapped onto his. “The scabot weren't there to kill me.”
“I don't follow?”
“The scabots at the inn; they weren't there to kill me; they were there to flush me out of the town.” She jerked back her reins, and her horse reared. “We need to go. Now. There's a hunter out there, and his hounds are getting closer.”
“What in the light is a hunter?”
“Something you don't want to face—ever. Those barks are his hounds. He's going to use them to tire us out, and he’ll keep coming. Light failing, I need to get to Luthengard. I need to get this cursed scent off of me. That's the only way to stop it.”
“How far are they?” Quinn asked.
“From the sound of things, they're still some distance away,” Liam said. “Can we out pace them on a horse?”
