The Gaellean Prophecy Series Box Set

by C S Vass

  “Not fresh,” Godwin said. “Look. Adipocere. Grave wax. This person has been dead for at least a few days.”

  “I don’t know what that means, but we’re getting close no doubt.”

  Godwin rolled his eyes. “How did you get through Witchika Khareen? Something isn’t right. There’s no way that grave wax would come about before rigor mortis.”

  “Indeed. I suggest what’s not right is the fact that there’s a demon in the area. Need you know more? Let’s go.”

  “Wait for me!” Robert shouted as he ran after them, pulling his trousers up as he went.

  They encountered a few more bodies along the way. All were the same, but Yaura didn’t let them stop long enough for Godwin to get a proper look at them. At last they came to another clearing where the trees yawned outward around a large pond.

  Yaura’s thrygta was now humming loud enough for Godwin to hear it without being level with it, and that was with Yaura’s hand muffling the sound.

  “That thing’s likely to give you away the moment you need to sneak about somewhere,” Godwin said.

  “I have a cover that mutes the noise,” she snapped. “This is no doubt the end of the road for us.”

  “You mean…the demon is here?” Robert asked. His teeth chattered wildly but all the same he stood side by side with them.

  “Yes,” Godwin said as he drew his own blade. He had already coated it with the potion he had made earlier. “I can feel it as well.”

  “Be careful when you’re swinging that thing around,” Yaura said. “I don’t need you to accidentally scrape me with it and trick my body into thinking it died.”

  “Curious as I would be to see what would happen, I agree,” Godwin said. “I’ll be sure to run the first test on the rusalka.”

  “Gods this is exciting,” Robert stammered.

  “You best duck down and hide, friend,” Godwin said to him. “These demons hate men much more than women.”

  “Why?”

  “Because men are the ones who murdered them.”

  The sky turned crimson as the sun slipped down towards the horizon. The warmth they had all felt earlier seemed to evaporate, and Godwin had a deep chill in his bones. If they survived, they were going to be in for an unpleasant night in the woods.

  “Drowned woman!” Godwin shouted. “Reveal yourself! We know you’re here!”

  All was silent, save Robert’s chattering teeth.

  A ripple appeared in the pond. Slowly, the rusalka appeared.

  Her skin was corpse purple. Clotted veins congealed with blood strangled her neck and hands. Wet hair as black as jet clung to her shoulders in tangled braids.

  “Leave this place!” Godwin shouted. “You have become as the tormenter you despise, and your time here is up! Release yourself from the hell you’ve made of this pond!”

  Godwin hadn’t expected the words to work, but still there was no reason not to try.

  “Oh my gods,” Robert whispered. “It’s a demon. Wait, what’s it doing?”

  “Begone!” Godwin roared.

  The rusalka tipped its head upwards towards the sky and opened its mouth. It’s neck convulsed and it appeared as if the creature was trying to scream, though only a choking rasp of a noise escaped from its mouth. Godwin felt Robert cling to his arm.

  “What the fuck’s it doing?” he hissed.

  “Get off me, you idiot,” Godwin snapped as he shook Robert from him.

  “Be prepared,” Yaura warned as she raised her blade. “They’re devilishly fast from what I’ve heard. It could spring at us at any moment.”

  “Oh fuck, why did I want to come for this?” Robert moaned.

  “Because you’ve got naught between your ears but shit,” Godwin grumbled. “Now for the last time get off of me. If you’re clinging to my arm, I can’t well use it to fight.”

  Godwin’s body tensed. He felt positive the creature was about to spring at them. He had heard from the Sages that a rusalka could skip itself across the top of a body of water like a carefully tossed stone and move as quickly as an arrow if it needed to.

  The rusalka collapsed.

  Godwin twitched and Yaura let out a gasp as she raised her sword in preparation to defend herself. But there was no need. The creature splashed into the pond like a rock, arms outstretched above her head. She bobbed in the water lifelessly like a buoy.

  “It worked,” Robert said. “I can’t believe it. You dispelled the demon with your words!”

  “I didn’t,” Godwin said. But still, he had not expected this. “I couldn’t have. That was never going to work.”

  “It was a bit pompous of you,” Yaura said, perplexed. “I agree. It was never going to work.”

  “Then what just happened.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Everyone shut up!”

  “What?”

  “Shut up I said!”

  The group fell silent. They watched as the corpse drifted along the surface of the pond. The only sound was Yaura’s thrygta humming in her hands. Then a long, low creaking noise.

  Yaura gasped. Robert shot to Godwin in an instant, gripping his arm once again. Godwin didn’t even tell him to get off. In part because he was overcoming a moment of terror that had engulfed him, and in part because he was desperately trying to formulate a plan to deal with the new threat that was emerging from the wilderness.

  Chapter 18

  Faela’s heart pounded in her chest as she approached the throne room.

  Benjiko had specifically instructed her to avoid the king, and now she was marching directly to him. But what choice did she have? Could he be angry with her? She had heard all sorts of stories about lords, kings, and even emperors throughout history who had been at odds with their children. Oftentimes it meant people caught in the middle with no hope of choosing their allegiance correctly getting smashed in the resulting struggle.

  I know far too little about the damn court here, she thought. They warned me in Tallium that I would want to find out, but I never imagined I’d be meeting with princes and kings. I’m not cut out for any of this damn political nonsense.

  She was marched down a long stretch of hall to two massive doors of oak. Brett had been ordered back to his post the moment they reached the castle. Unable to say anything to her, he merely gave Faela a sympathetic look before walking off.

  She was alone.

  The doors swung open to reveal a long black and silver carpet. It led to a massive throne overshadowed by the head of a great roaring wolf. Despite being in the throne room of the Wolf King, Faela felt as if she had walked into the mouth of a dragon. Heat radiated from dozens of braziers lining the hall like soldiers at attention.

  As Faela neared the throne, she was surprised to see that the person sitting on it was one whom she recognized.

  “Lord Nicolai,” she said. “I am here to answer the summons of the King.”

  “So you are,” Nicolai responded. “Surely you did not actually expect to greet his majesty at this early hour? The King is sound asleep. I am the one who has summoned you. As King Boldfrost’s most trusted advisor, I speak with his voice. The rest of you, stand watch outside. Yes, all of you. Out!”

  Faela wasn’t quite sure what to say, so she simply bowed. She had heard that bowing a lot was good when dealing with lords.

  Nicolai looked at her with his ghostly blue eyes. It was hot enough that Faela could feel sweat pooling under her clothes. The braziers weren’t only lined down the hall, they also hung from the ceiling in great iron cages. Realizing that nobody could possibly enjoy the scorching temperature, it dawned on Faela that it was a technique to intimidate whoever stood before the throne.

  “You have drawn my attention, Faela,” he said at last. “You have been assaulted twice now. Once on the road to Iryllium, and once inside the city.”

  “How do you know that already?”

  Faela expected some sly, arrogant answer about how he knew everything that happened within Iryllium’s walls.
To her surprise, his response was more candid. “I am King Boldfrost’s lead informer. I have a vast network of spies at my disposal. I make good use of them. But the concern is not what I know. It’s what you know. For instance, do you know why you are being targeted?”

  Was he truly asking, or was this some sort of trap? She spoke carefully. “I didn’t think there was a mystery to the attacks. Is it not because I am a Dragon, and the Dragons have been summoned to the city?”

  Nicolai observed her quietly. His blue eyes were full of intelligence. “Go on,” he said. “Finish your thought. Let us not have unnecessary secrets.”

  What was she to do? Nicolai was not like Benjiko. There was nothing about the court advisor that made her want to trust him. But if she said too little, would he grow angry with her? Surely he was aware she knew some things. Otherwise why would he summon her?

  Faela cleared her throat. “It seems to me that the Dragons have been brought here for some purpose of war. That is our calling, after all. I assume that we are going to be utilized against a foe. Whoever that foe is would have an interest in picking us off one by one before we can arrive in the city and help as a unified force.”

  “A splendid theory,” Nicolai said as he steepled his hands. “But that is of course just a guess. What if the King merely wanted to see what his strength was? What if he wanted to know, in the event of an emergency, just how many Dragons would come if he summoned them?”

  Faela decided to give the advisor a test of his own. “Lord Nicolai, forgive me for being plain. I am tired and would rather not have a duel of words with you. What you suggest, it simply isn’t true.”

  To her surprise Nicolai smiled. He nodded approvingly. “You are correct, of course. It’s not true. I won’t insult you by pretending otherwise. But it still begs a question that you appear to be avoiding. Why are you special? No one else was attacked twice. More importantly, no one else had one of their traveling companions attacked after parting ways inside Iryllium.”

  Faela felt like she had swallowed a stone. “Paetrick? Tell me what you mean.” She moved her hands behind her back so that Nicolai would not see them trembling involuntarily.

  Nicolai’s face was gravely serious. He stood up from the throne, and walked down to meet Faela, eye to eye. “A terrible ordeal, I’m afraid.” He smiled. “For the would-be assassins. They did not realize that the gods of ice and shadow are not pacifist weaklings like those who follow Sacred Jeresemeno across the Dark Sea.”

  “What are you saying?” Faela demanded. She was in no mood for games, and the anger was there in her voice. “Is Paetrick alright or not?”

  “The boy is quite fine. Not a scratch on his innocent young head. The killer though, it was quite a sight. I personally went to see. The temple monks took grave offense to one of their new recruits being threatened. Shadow magic is a terribly gruesome art, though admittedly not without practical purposes. The fools were shredded beyond recognition. They were swept into the gutter, and none shall remember their names.”

  Faela breathed a sigh of relief as Nicolai spoke. She would never be able to forgive herself if something happened to Paetrick because of her friendship with him.

  But why had Paetrick been attacked if nobody else who traveled with a Dragon was?

  Nicolai appeared to be thinking along the same lines. “It does raise certain questions. For example, why was the young monk targeted? Many of the Dragons that have entered the city at King Boldfrost’s summons were accompanied by monks. None of the others have been attacked. I saw to it that each was accounted for.”

  Only then did she notice the slant of Nicolai’s eyes. The way his mouth twitched with anticipation.

  She frowned. “You think I know something?”

  “If you did, now would be the time to tell me.”

  Faela considered carefully. She thought of the letter she had found on the body of her first attacker. She didn’t trust Nicolai, not by a long shot. But what if he already knew? It almost seemed likely that he did. Would he be angry if she tried to keep the secret? Or would he think her a fool if she told him?

  Traps within traps. My best option is to buy a moment’s time. “Tell me, Lord Nicolai, why have the Dragons been summoned to the city? The true reason.”

  “Because that is the wish of the King.”

  She frowned. These court games were extremely tiresome. But at least he had given her an out. If he wasn’t going to share information with her, then why should she feel compelled to do so?

  “Very well. I’m here to serve at his pleasure. I’m sorry I don’t know anything else.”

  She expected Nicolai to look her over and try to read her face. She expected him to question her again either more roughly or more sweetly. Again, he defied her expectations.

  “The crown thanks you for your sense of civic duty. That will be all for now. I sincerely hope your fire comes back quickly. You may return to your assigned chambers until such time.”

  Grateful for the chance to leave, Faela bowed her head and turned.

  “Faela,” Nicolai called to her as she reached the door. “Be sure to invite me the next time you have a little meeting at the Midnight Wish. I do love that sort of late night excitement.”

  Two days later Faela’s fire still hadn’t come back to her. She had little to do besides try summoning it, be disappointed by the results, and then worry if it were possible that the more she tried the longer it would take to come back to her.

  A knock at her door drew her attention.

  She answered to see the silver eyes of Benjiko Boldfrost staring at her. “Faela, how are you?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  He brushed aside a few strands of his black hair. “I wanted to make sure that you were alright. I’ve been preoccupied with court and haven’t had the opportunity to check on you.”

  She furrowed her brow. She knew all about what lords and princes expected from the wounded damsels they checked up on.

  “I’m doing well, Prince,” she said.

  Benjiko looked insulted. “Please, we’re a bit beyond those formalities I think.”

  “Why are you here?”

  He was evidently caught off-guard judging from the way he shuffled his feet. The same age as Paetrick, she thought, trying to remember if all of her male friends were such doofuses ten years ago when she was a teenager.

  “I thought you might want to see the monk.”

  The prospect made Faela smile. “I do. But it turns out the gods of ice and shadow don’t much favor halfling monsters. I don’t think they would welcome me into the temple.”

  “Hm, I wonder if they would be so bold as to use the phrase halfling monster to the face of their prince. Come on, as a general rule people don’t often bar my entry or insult my friends.”

  The gesture surprised her, but she wasn’t about to turn it down. “Alright then, let’s go.”

  Faela put on a long fur cloak and knee-high boots before leaving. The smack of cold winter air on her face made her feel better after being cooped up in that hot room. She felt a rush of energy even as she shivered. They had hardly moved past the castle gates when her sour mood improved. It would be good to see Paetrick. He would certainly be surprised.

  Making a go at conversation she said, “Tell me then, Benjiko, what kind of king do you want be?”

  He turned to her and smiled. “What prompted that question?”

  “Just a random thought, I suppose.”

  “Hm, if I said the kind and just type, that wouldn’t be satisfactory would it?”

  “No, that would be a pretty terrible answer,” Faela agreed.

  “Okay then. Well, in truth I wouldn’t be a king at all.”

  She laughed. “The terrible burden of power too much for you, young Prince?”

  Benjiko rolled his eyes. “So what if it is? It’s not like you would know.”

  His irritated tone surprised her. “No, I suppose I wouldn’t. But I guess the fruit is always riper on the oth
er tree. So what would you do if you had a choice?”

  “Well isn’t it obvious?” he asked. “I’d be a wandering swordsman.”

  She snorted with laughter, which promptly caused Benjiko’s cheeks to redden.

  “A wandering swordsman?” she said once she had composed herself.

  “Aye. I’d carry a sword and a lute, play songs by the campfire at night, and earn my bread fighting against the false bandit kings of Killer’s Rest.”

  Faela wasn’t quite sure if he was making fun of her question or not. “Bring their heads to local lords like a fishmonger with a trout? Why dream of that? When you’re a real king you can make real war on the bandit kings if you like.”

  He smiled, but didn’t respond.

  “Sounds like you should have been born a commoner. Maybe you can find someone who wants to trade places. I know a few of the regular folk who would be happy to swap lives with a king.”

  “I’m not afraid to live up to my responsibilities,” he said. “I was just answering an honest question. I’ll be a good and fair king when my time comes. You’ll see.”

  They eventually made their way to the Temple. Two burly monks were conversing over steaming mugs of what smelled like vodka with a drop of cider. They started to give Faela trouble, but upon realizing who accompanied her bowed and let them through.

  “Faela!” Paetrick shouted as soon as he saw her. He ran from the table he was cleaning and put his arms around her. “You’re alright! I was worried. I didn’t think the monks would let me see you. How are you? Tell me everything! You’ve got some new clothes. Who’s this? Hello, I’m Paetrick.”

  His time with the monks hasn’t taken any of his youth from him yet, Faela thought.

  “Paetrick,” she said. “This is Prince Benjiko Boldfrost.”

  Paetrick’s jaw dropped. She thought the boy would immediately fall to his knees and kiss the Prince’s ring.

  “Gods above, you’re the Prince? That means you’re to rule the whole West one day! Gods above, that’s incredible. What’s it like to be a prince? What are you doing here? Would you care for something to eat?”

  “Perhaps we should go sit somewhere for a while and talk,” Benjiko said slowly.