The Eidolons of Myrefall

by Sarah McCarthy

  David rolled to the side and lifted his weapon, slicing it into the demon. It clawed the air, struggling as the weapon consumed it, its ghostly face contorting in an expression of torment as it struggled. But then it was gone.

  David lowered his blade, breathing heavily, sweat running down the sides of his white face. He spun around, looking for Naomi.

  She was advancing on the last demon. Its jaws snapped at her as she brandished her blade. It moved back, hissing, and David was behind it in an instant, slicing through it and dispelling the creature into black wisps of smoke that were pulled into the glowing end of his blade.

  “Whoa,” Charlotte said.

  Naomi strode over and opened the carriage door.

  “Come on out. We’re stopping here for a while.”

  “What were those?” Ferne asked, awed.

  “That was an eidolon,” Naomi said, slinging her weapon back over her shoulder. She bounced on the balls of her feet and shook out her arms. “That’s what you’re here to learn how to fight.” She didn’t look at Arabel.

  Ferne turned to Arabel, who was silent. “You heard it coming, didn’t you?”

  Naomi looked at her sharply.

  “Um, I guess so.” Arabel shrugged. “Not really heard though, I just felt it. You didn’t?”

  They shook their heads. “What was it like?”

  “Uh, I don’t know. I mean, you saw it.”

  “I didn’t feel anything at all. Until those huge glowing bears came out of the woods,” Ferne said.

  Her sister looked at her. “They weren’t bears, they looked like wolves to me.”

  They both tensed.

  “But, are you sure? They were… too hunched to be wolves.”

  “But, much smaller than bears.” Charlotte’s voice quavered.

  “Badgers?” Ferne suggested.

  “Yes!” Her sister’s eyes lit up. “Badgers. That’s what I saw.”

  “Of course,” Ferne said. “Me, too. Badgers.” She addressed Arabel. “They looked like badgers to us.”

  They both looked relieved.

  David approached, brushing dirt off his weapon. “It’s true, Naomi. She knew they were coming even before I did.” He looked at Arabel thoughtfully. “You sure you don’t want to come with us?”

  Arabel crossed her arms. “What are those?” she asked, both curious and wanting to change the subject, gesturing to their weapons.

  David held his up. Charlotte reached out to touch it, but David lifted it out of her reach. “Careful. This is a soul blade. It’s attuned to whoever wields it. Anyone else who tries to take it will wish they hadn’t.” Arabel noticed he glanced at her when he said it, and her stomach twisted.

  “Is there any other way to fight them?” Arabel asked.

  “No,” Naomi said flatly. “And they’re everywhere. More around cities, but there’s plenty in the woods. You wouldn’t last more than a day out there on your own. Even if you were able to find more people to rob.”

  Arabel blushed but glared at her.

  Back in the carriage for the rest of the afternoon, Arabel considered her options. They would leave her in the next city they came to. That meant her father would know where she was. He knew all the other Lord Protectors. He could easily have her hauled back to Myrefall. Without a ward she would be just as trapped as she had been before.

  The alternative was to go with these people, find out what they knew about demons, see if she could learn enough to be able to travel on her own. She had to admit she was curious. And mostly convinced they weren’t working for her father.

  5

  The walls of Glimcrick were weather-beaten limestone. Water dribbling off dark slate roofs had eaten away little channels in the stone, which were streaked with grey and brown slime. The sky had clouded over, and the day was warm, heavy with expectant rainfall. A slight breeze lifted the leaves of the trees they passed.

  This was the first city outside Myrefall that Arabel had ever seen, but she didn’t feel excited as they passed through the rickety wooden gates. The horses made slow progress up the narrow cobbled lanes, through passageways of leaning houses, some painted in faded reds and yellows, all darkened with residue from cooking fires.

  They pulled up outside an inn and Arabel climbed out, looking around at the city that could be her new home. At least until her father came and got her. She watched a man push a cart heavily laden with squash down the street. She was sure she could figure out something to do here. But the prospect held little excitement anymore.

  David appeared in front of her, holding out a small purse.

  “Here. I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t trust us. I’ve heard… things… about your father so I can make some guesses about what you thought. And, like I said, we don’t want anybody who’s unwilling.”

  She couldn’t detect any insincerity in his voice. His face was an open, friendly, idealistic book. Not the kind of person who would ever be working for her father. With a start she realized that whatever her father had planned might not have to do with her at all. What if it was about these people instead? That was more his style. Efficient. A punishment for her but also somehow for them. She couldn’t guess what he had planned for them, though. Or how her becoming a guardian was supposed to help him accomplish that. He had to know she’d never willingly go along with anything he wanted.

  David’s smile had become slightly fixed, and she realized she was supposed to reply.

  “What’s this training like?” she asked. She made it sound as casual as she could, but he grinned.

  “It’s great.”

  “I’ve heard people die.”

  “Not usually.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  He tucked the purse back into his pocket and adjusted the leather strap that held his soul blade. “Well, first there’s an initiation test. To make sure you’re capable of what we’re going to teach you.” He glanced at her. “I doubt you’ll have a problem with that.”

  Arabel wouldn’t have worried either way. She assumed she could figure out most things.

  “Then we’ll train you to fight the eidolons as much as is possible without a soul blade.”

  “So it is possible?”

  He leaned his head to the side. “To an extent. With some of the weaker ones.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. Excellent.

  He continued, “And then we send you out on the Rite of Integrity. To reclaim your eidolons.”

  “To… what?”

  He ran a hand through his hair, and a look of deep frustration crossed his face. “You, too?” He looked at the ground, then up the dingy street, his eyes scanning the faces of the people who passed. Then he looked back at her. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be surprised. No one knows anymore.”

  “Knows what?”

  “Eidolons are created by people.”

  “By—what?” Arabel frowned and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “How?”

  “They’re lost fragments of souls. Up until four hundred years ago, everyone knew that. Then someone invented the wards, and from those the siphons, and along came sorcerers.” He shook his head, his eyebrows knitting together. “Suddenly no one had to deal with them anymore. Started calling them demons,” he gestured helplessly with his hands, “and acting like they were just these monsters. They’re not.”

  “They sure act like monsters.” She touched her mother’s necklace.

  “Of course they do. You think it’s nice to be shunned, ripped apart, and driven out from where you belong?”

  He seemed completely in earnest, and she couldn’t think of a reason he would be lying. She wondered briefly if her father knew where eidolons came from, if Elyrin knew.

  David took a deep breath. “Up until four hundred years ago, we were the ones who helped people reclaim their eidolons. We had protected people for fifteen hundred years before that, protected the innocent and taught people how to reclaim the parts of themselves they’d unleashed on the world. Now, no one wants us
anymore. We should have fifty new recruits this year, instead we have three.” He looked at her. “Hopefully four.”

  “Three? What about the guy in the chains?”

  “He’s just here to recuperate. We got some reports and went to pick him up on the way. He’s missing large pieces of himself, and we think he’s possessed by something, too.”

  “Will you be able to help him?”

  “We hope so.”

  Arabel glanced at the carriage, then down at her bedraggled beaded slippers.

  “Is sorcery really that bad? The wards do protect people.”

  “Yeah, but at what cost? People lose whole parts of themselves, spend their whole lives fragmented.”

  “Is that bad, though? If I have eidolons I can’t tell.”

  “It’s true, they might not know what they’re missing. But they’re not living their lives as full people; they’re stuck, dying. There’s a huge energy drain, from a person to their eidolon.” He grimaced. “Which is exactly what the sorcerers love.”

  Arabel raised her eyebrows.

  “Oh, you don’t know that either? Never wondered where all your town sorcerer’s power comes from? Sorcerers create wards, which repel eidolons, but they also create siphons. They’re like wards; they keep people apart from their eidolons, but they also attach to the connection between them, draining energy from it.”

  Arabel tried to wrap her mind around this. “Why… why doesn’t…”

  “Why doesn’t anyone do anything? Think about it. What’s the alternative? We’re the alternative. Years of difficult training, the threat of death, and, really, having to face whatever it is they didn’t want to face in the first place. That’s the whole reason they made the eidolon.”

  The strong sense that she was being told the truth, or at least something he believed deeply, washed over Arabel. It was so unfamiliar that she almost didn’t recognize it. These were people who believed in something, or at least David did. She took in his shining eyes, noted that he was even slightly out of breath. And for whatever reason her father had something planned for these people. Something to do with her. Whatever her father had planned, they wouldn’t be ready for it. But Arabel knew him. Arabel could stop him.

  Naomi came up to stand behind David.

  “Come on, we’re meeting them inside in a few minutes.” Her eyes traveled over Arabel.

  “I changed my mind,” Arabel said. “I want to come with you.”

  “We don’t want you,” Naomi said. “Liars aren’t worth our time.”

  David rounded on her. “You saw her father; look what she grew up with. She deserves at the very least a second chance. And you saw her sense that eidolon. She’s good. In case you haven’t noticed, we have three recruits this year. That’s half last year, and the year before that we had none.”

  Naomi stared him down, but he just waited, watching the wheels turn without speaking. “Fine,” she snapped. She looked at Arabel. “And yes, I saw who your father is. And so far, I haven’t seen any reason to think you’re any different.”

  Heat exploded in Arabel’s chest and she took a step forward.

  “Cecil is a conniving, gluttonous crab and I—"

  “And he’s messed with the guardians enough. There’s not a city in his vicinity that will accept our help, let alone hire us, and now he sends—”

  David stepped gently between them.

  “Great. Yes. Cecil is horrible, we can all agree. Right now, we’ve got to go. Right?”

  Naomi nodded and, with a look of contempt, turned and strode off.

  David smiled apologetically. “Sorry about that. She’s nicer than she seems.” He grinned at her, and Arabel’s heart did a weird side-shuffle that she hoped didn’t show in her face. “Glad you’re going to join us after all.”

  He turned and strode after Naomi.

  After they had left, Arabel yanked her bag off the top of the carriage.

  “I’ll be right back!” she called to Ferne and Charlotte. “Don’t let them leave without me!”

  Then she hustled up the street, the hem of her gown dragging through the mud until she hitched it up further, sighing.

  “Hey,” she said to a passing woman. “Where’s the nearest tailor?” The woman frowned but pointed up the street.

  “Turn right at the butcher’s,” she said, pulling her basket more tightly to her chest and moving off.

  Arabel pulled her skirts higher and ran up the street, found the butcher’s quickly by the smell, and turned right down a larger thoroughfare.

  A dilapidated shingle hanging from the side of a building a few rows down read “Reamy Olnstead, Tailor,” and Arabel readjusted her bag over her shoulder and pushed into the shop.

  A small man sat in the middle of the floor, a gauzy pile of cloth heaped around him. He squinted as he pushed a needle through some bunched-up fabric, his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth.

  He jumped when Arabel dropped her bag on the floor.

  “Oh, excuse me, there,” he said, thrusting the needle into a pincushion strapped to his chest and standing, diaphanous waves tumbling around him. “I am Reamy.” His eyes traveled down the length of Arabel’s torn and muddied dress. “What can I help you with?”

  Arabel’s gaze swept the shop, her eyes lighting up when she saw some leather breeches. She bent down, opened her bag, and dumped the gowns onto the floor. One had pearls sewn into the hem, another had semi-precious green stones around the collar. “How many pairs of pants will this get me?”

  Reamy’s mouth opened.

  “Oh, and this too.” Arabel pointed to a simple red linen blouse. It looked serviceable enough. She glanced down at her beaded slippers. Most of the beads were gone after her run through the woods. “And do you have any boots?”

  Fifteen minutes later Arabel left the shop, her bag now stuffed with three pairs of pants, four shirts, and a heavy wool cloak. The shopkeeper had tried to press more on her, but Arabel didn’t want more than she could carry comfortably. She gave a small hop, delighting in the way the soft leather moved, feeling the way the soles of the boots gripped the stones beneath her. Now these were clothes.

  She arrived back at the carriage, tossed her bag on top, and climbed inside. A few seconds later David and Naomi reappeared, a girl following along behind them. She was tall and slim, with a green dress over a white linen undershirt. Her skin was pale, and freckles dusted her aristocratic nose. Dark brown hair framed her face.

  “Avery, this is Charlotte and Ferne Northway and Arabel Fossey. Arabel, Charlotte, Ferne, this is Avery Rosewall.”

  “A pleasure to meet you,” Avery said brightly, hopping up into the carriage and nodding at the three of them in turn.

  “You’re new, too?” Charlotte asked.

  Avery nodded.

  “Sure are a lot of girls here,” Ferne said.

  “You escaping marriage, too?” Charlotte asked.

  “Oh,” Avery said. “Um, no.”

  They waited, staring at her until she continued.

  “I just volunteered.”

  “Why?”

  Avery glanced at the unconscious man. “Um, well. My parents are merchants. We travel between—” The man grunted. “—Between cities. Er, is he OK?”

  “He’s possessed.”

  “Oh,” Avery said, staring at him and edging away a few inches.

  “It’s fine, apparently,” Charlotte said. “So, your parents are merchants?”

  “Er, yes. We often had guardian escorts. Through the more dangerous parts.” She swallowed. “A few years ago, one… one died protecting us. Protecting me. I decided to join.”

  “You saw someone die and so you decided to become one of them?” Ferne asked. “That’s morbid.”

  “Er, no, I just wanted to thank them somehow. I know there aren’t many guardians left.”

  “Did you want to be a guardian, though?” Charlotte asked.

  Avery glanced at Arabel, who had remained silent. “I’d never wanted to be a guar
dian, no.”

  “That’s selfless of you,” Ferne said.

  “Um, I’m sorry, can you remind me, which of you is Ferne and which is Charlotte?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” one of them said brightly.

  Avery glanced at Arabel who grinned and shrugged.

  The rain started coming down towards nightfall. The road became a muddy track, dark water reflecting the light of their lanterns. The horses’ hooves made sucking noises as they pulled free of the mud, laboring to haul the carriage forward. Inside, the rain on the roof made a cozy patter, which nearly drowned out the occasional whimpers of the unconscious man. Ferne and Charlotte had fallen asleep, their elbows linked and their heads leaning together, snoring softly.

  Avery hadn’t attempted to make any sort of conversation with Arabel, and Arabel had been grateful for that. The girl was staring out the darkened window into the rainy night, her pale face betraying no emotion. Arabel found herself wondering what the girl was thinking, whether she regretted her decision to come.

  Possible questions suggested themselves to Arabel, but none seemed worth disturbing her over. Eventually, she stared out the window in silence, too.

  They must have been close, because they kept going, even as the hour grew later and the darkness deepened.

  Up ahead, a light glimmered through the trees. It was high up, far above where they wound through the forest, and as they went around a bend it winked out. A few minutes later it was back. The horses sped up, straining harder against the mud, jolting the carriage roughly over rocks and waterlogged potholes.

  They hit a large bump and began climbing a steep, rocky incline, switch-backing their way up a mountainside. A few minutes later, lights blazed. A town. It was late and the place was deserted, but a few lanterns still shone, hanging from poles.

  The carriage trundled over cobblestones and then bumped back onto muddy dirt as they passed through the other side of the small town and resumed their ascent. The lights ahead grew brighter and brighter. Their path was lit with intricate iron lanterns now, sending shadowed patterns across Arabel’s face as she stared up at them. Finally the carriage ground to a halt, the horses huffing out steaming breaths and stamping their feet. A sharp knock banged on the roof above them.