The Dread: The Fallen Kings Cycle: Book Two

by Gail Z. Martin

  Slowly, light and memory returned. Kiara was still lying down, and her head was pounding. “Kiara, can you hear us?” It was Cerise’s voice, worried and close. Kiara murmured, but even that effort was too much to bear.

  Cerise pushed a wad of leaves between Kiara’s teeth. In a few minutes, the pain of the headache receded and Kiara opened her eyes, squinting at the brightness of the sun. “What happened?”

  Cerise had a dour expression. “Let’s just say that there’s no question about you being able to channel magic without the mages in physical contact.”

  Kiara moved her fingers and felt grass beneath them. “How did I end up here?”

  “Thank Morane. He’s the one who bowled you over and landed on top of you,” Royster replied. “And it’s a good thing, too, or else the boulder would have done it.”

  With Cerise’s help, Kiara struggled to sit up. Her eyes widened. The boulder had moved far from its spot on the road, but instead of going back to its starting point, it had rolled twice the distance toward where she had stood with the lens and then past that point and down a small rise, to rest in a gully. “I did that?”

  Brother Felix knelt next to her as Cerise finished checking Kiara for injuries. “Not exactly. To some extent, we did that. You channeled our energy without Morane and me needing to touch the lens. But it wasn’t just our power. I felt part of what hit you, and I bet he did, too,” Felix said with a glance toward Morane, who nodded, wide-eyed. “Somehow, I think you tapped into the power of the rest of the mages in the camp, maybe in the Temnottan camp as well, and I’m almost certain you touched the Flow.”

  “I saw images of shrines and temples, places I’d never seen before,” Kiara murmured.

  Royster frowned. “When you feel better, I’d like to show you the map I made of the nearby places of power. I have drawings of most of them. I’m betting we’ll find more than a few matches.”

  “And the boulder?”

  Morane chuckled nervously. “It moved, all right. Unfortunately, it headed straight for you as if it had been thrown by a giant. I’m afraid you’d have more than a headache if it had hit you.”

  Kiara looked toward where the boulder lay, and shuddered. Then she glanced over her shoulder to where Royster had spilled out the runes. “What about the runes? Do they say anything?”

  “How about, beware of big, fast-moving rocks,” Morane muttered.

  Royster was frowning when he straightened and turned back toward her. “Very strange. Only four of the bones show their runes. The others remain blank. Aneh, the rune of chaos. Sai, the rune of death. Est, the rune of darkness, and Tivah, the rune for the Flow of magic.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry, Kiara. The runes speak, but I can’t interpret them for you.”

  Kiara squeezed her eyes shut against the headache. “It’s probably just as well,” she said. “The dead queen warned me about relying too heavily on runes and portents. Perhaps the runes just remind us that the outcome is in our own hands.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Thank you for showing me the way out.” Aidane gave Ed a smile as she drew a deep breath of fresh air for the first time in three days. It was late afternoon, and the winter sun cast long shadows.

  Ed did not return the smile. “As dodgy as it is in the tunnels, it’s more dangerous above, in my opinion. That Buka fellow doesn’t come beyond the cellars, but he roams the streets. Watch yourself, Aidane. I’ll make sure Kir keeps your spot for you.”

  Aidane gave Ed a peck on the cheek. “I’ll be careful. I promise. I just need to earn some coin and I’d rather do it telling fortunes than… other ways… right now.”

  “Fair enough. You remember the way back to Kir’s place?”

  Aidane nodded. “Thank you, Ed. I’ll buy you a drink when I get back.”

  Ed managed a grudging smile. “Since it’ll mean you’re in safely, I’ll drink to that. Now best get going before the light fades.”

  Despite the assurances Aidane had given to Ed, she was jumpy once she reached the outside streets. She watched passersby warily, and cringed when anyone followed too closely. Though it was midafternoon, Aidane could not shake the feeling that she was being watched by someone other than the ghosts that clustered around her.

  Has Buka been near here lately? If the ghosts were intent on following her and pressing her for favors, the least she could expect in return was information.

  At the name, even the ghosts recoiled. We don’t speak of him, one of the spirits said. But he’s been quiet for a spell. No new killings; least, not that anyone’s found.

  Makes it worse, chimed in another ghost. The longer since he’s killed, the more likely he is to kill again.

  What do you care? You’re dead. Aidane felt the ghost shudder.

  Dead isn’t safe. Not now. Not when those Black Robes come around and hollow spirits so that there’s naught left but anger and pain. Buka reaps and the cursed Black Robes glean the souls he harvests. It ain’t right.

  Have you seen Black Robes recently? Since the new queen came to the throne?

  She thought that the ghosts might not answer. The subject seemed to frighten them, but finally, a response came.

  Only a few. Just a few are left. Bad enough.

  Aidane sighed. Although she and Thaine’s ghost had done their best to warn the queen and help the soldiers arrest the Black Robes, it wasn’t really a surprise to discover that a few had slipped the net. At least it’s better than it was, Aidane consoled herself, drawing her cloak more tightly around her. That’s something I did to help.

  The winter air was cold, though the sun occasionally peeked through the sky between clouds. Aidane remembered passing several taverns on her way into the city, and it had occurred to her that telling fortunes might raise some coin without the need to resort to practicing her other services. Even though she had resolved not to use her serroquette abilities to broker reunions between the dead and living, Kir had been game enough to give her a place to sleep and enough food to get by on out of her wages as a common whore. But that wasn’t something she could bring herself to face, not just yet.

  Nothing says true love like a whore’s chastity, she thought, chiding herself. She had not been with a client since the night she had enabled Elsbet’s spirit to make a final reunion with Kolin. She was reluctant to have the memory sullied by the crudeness of a strumpet’s tryst, not when the memory of Kolin was so fresh and her heart still ached.

  He said he cared about me. Could it have been real? She sighed. It was real for me. But even though Kolin knows I can’t bring Elsbet back to him, it had to be her he wants, or the memory of her using me. He might be vayash moru, but he was a noble once. Nobles don’t fall in love with whores, no matter how fancy. Better this way. I can imagine good things when I remember him, instead of finding out that he would have eventually grown tired of me. After all, he’s immortal, and I’ll be lucky to live twenty and five seasons. She quickened her pace as if to leave the bleak thoughts behind her. “Enough of that. There’s coin to earn,” she muttered to herself.

  Aidane stopped at an inn that was far enough from the palace to assure her that none of the guards who stopped in for ale would recognize her. It was early enough in the day that the inn was still mostly empty of customers. In the bar, a drunk dozed near the fire while two men drank and played dice in the corner. Aidane approached the man behind the counter. He was big and raw boned, with a broad face and unremarkable features topped by a shock of hair the color of dried cornstalks.

  “What’s your business here?”

  Aidane managed a businesslike smile. “I’m a seer and a fortune-teller. I’d like to pass the evening in your common room telling fortunes, and I’d be willing to share my wages in return for a meal and a bed for the night if there’s any to spare.”

  The innkeeper tilted his head to have a closer look at her and Aidane was grateful for her decision to leave her fancy clothes behind at the palace. Nothing about her very plain dress and cloak indicated her status as a serroqu
ette. “Are you any good?”

  Aidane took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment, reaching out to the spirits around her. She frowned, listening. Finally, she opened her eyes and looked at the innkeeper. “There’s a little girl named Vivian who wants to know why you don’t sing to her anymore. She liked to hear you sing, but you don’t sing at all, not in a long time.”

  The blood drained from the innkeeper’s face, and he made the sign of the Lady in warding. “You can see her?”

  Aidane nodded. “Her head’s just about as high as your hip, and she’s got hair like you, but dark eyes and a nose that tips up.”

  The innkeeper steadied himself against the bar, looking as if he might faint. “That’s my daughter, my little Vivian. Took fever last spring and died. I used to sing her to sleep, sang all the time she was sick, hoping it would bring her around. I haven’t sung since I buried her.”

  Aidane swallowed hard and listened to the ghost before replying. “She’d like to hear you sing at the bar like you used to. She’s sorry she had to go away, but she’ll stay with you here if you’ll sing to her now and again.”

  The innkeeper’s pale blue eyes had gone as wide as saucers. He nodded, as if still overwhelmed by the message. “Yes, tell her I’ll do it. It’s good to know she’s still with me. I miss her so much.”

  “She never left,” Aidane said gently. “When you stopped singing, she thought you’d forgotten about her.”

  “Never,” the innkeeper said, his voice breaking. “Never.” He looked at Aidane for a long moment without speaking, and then nodded as if finishing an internal conversation. “All right. You’ve convinced me. And I owe you for that. Tell your fortunes for as long as you want. Pay me a third of what you make and I’ll give you a meal and a room if there’s one to spare; else, you can sleep in the hayloft out back.” He managed a wan smile. “Not as much traffic as there used to be, with the war and that Buka around, but maybe people will hear tell of you and that would be good for business, huh?”

  Aidane thanked him and found herself a chair near the fire where she would be able to strike up conversations as the inn grew more crowded. As she turned away from the bar, she heard the innkeeper begin to sing in a faltering voice, quietly, as though to himself. She looked back and saw Vivian’s ghost seated cross-legged at the end of the bar. The ghost smiled and waved at her, and Aidane waved back.

  The evening was prosperous. With Sohan over, many travelers were on the road, returning to their homes after visiting the city, or resuming their travels after having paused a while for the festival. As the night wore on and word spread about Aidane’s ability to communicate with the spirits and weave fortunes from their advice, she found her services in demand until late into the evening.

  Aidane listened to the talk as the tavern’s regulars gossiped. Tales of unfaithful spouses, hard luck, and unfair taxes circulated, much as in every tavern. One conversation made Aidane focus her attention.

  “Said they found his body in the woods outside of town. Horse must’ve bolted,” a soldier said with a shrug to the other guardsmen who listened to his tale. “Broke his neck when he fell. Snapped clean. Lord Norden’s beside himself, so they say.”

  Lord Norden’s son, Aidane thought, catching her breath. It can’t be an accident. Kolin must have found out. This is all my fault.

  “Lord Norden’s got other troubles to keep his mind busy,” said one of the other guards. “Heard the queen’s guards took him for aiding the Durim. Wonder who’ll get his lands, with his son dead and all.” He tossed back the last of his ale. “Won’t be me, that’s for sure.” The other soldiers chuckled and rose, leaving coins on the table for their ale.

  The soldiers’ conversation replayed itself in Aidane’s mind throughout the evening. When the tavern was empty of all but the innkeeper and a patron who had passed out over his table, Aidane finally stood and stretched.

  “Goddess, what a night! I hope you did as brisk a business in ale as I did in telling fortunes!”

  The innkeeper stopped humming, glanced up, and then blushed self-consciously. “Aye, that we did. And I’ll thank you for telling them good fortunes, for the most part, so that they were of a mind to drink a toast or buy a round for their friends.” He winked at her. “Though come to think of it, the ones who found out they were to come to grief drank many a pint to ease their sorrows.”

  Aidane emptied out the apron where she had kept the night’s earnings on the bar and counted the coins in front of the innkeeper, giving him his share. To her surprise, he pushed the coins back to her and shook his head. “Not tonight. I appreciate that you meant to hold up your end of the bargain, but you gave me back my Vivian, and I can’t take your coin tonight.” He managed a sad, crooked smile. “Now tomorrow night, if you’re of a mind to stay a while, I’ll take a cut. Sit down while I get you the food and ale I promised you. As for a bed, well, the rooms upstairs are full, but I can give you blankets to take to the hayloft. It’s warm out there above the horses, and none of the guests should bother you.”

  Aidane was about to decline, but the thought of making her way back through the dark streets made the hayloft an attractive alternative. “Thank you,” she said, gratefully accepting the heel of bread the innkeeper handed her and the bowl of steaming soup. Vivian’s ghost scampered from her place at the end of the bar to sit across from Aidane and prattled on with tales and imaginings that kept Aidane entertained as she ate. When one of the girl’s comments made Aidane chuckle aloud, the innkeeper gave her a sideways look.

  Aidane pushed the empty bowl aside. “Your daughter is a charming girl. She’s been telling me stories while I ate. Your singing has cheered her up tremendously, and she likes that I can hear her.”

  Sorrow darkened the innkeeper’s eyes. “Aye, she was a spark of light, my Vivian. There’s nothing good as having her live again, but since she can’t, it’s something to know she’s still with me. Something important. Thank you.”

  To shake off his mood, the innkeeper began to bustle around, closing up the tavern and fetching two hard-used and threadbare blankets for Aidane. “It’s all I’ve got,” he said apologetically. “They should be right enough for you, with your cloak. Night’s not too cold out.”

  Aidane thanked the innkeeper again and followed him to the back of the tavern. A small barn sat a few dozen paces from the inn’s back door. “There’s a ladder on your right to the loft. I don’t fancy taking a candle or a lamp out there what with the hay and all, but the moon’s bright enough you should be able to make your way. Sleep late as you want; not much happens at the bar until after midday.”

  With that, the innkeeper headed back inside, and Aidane made her way across the patchy grass in the small open area between the barn and the inn. Between the light that shone from the windows of the inn and the partial moon, Aidane could see well enough to avoid the well and the watering trough, as well as the hitching rail. Twice, she thought she caught a motion in the shadows, but no ghosts answered when she called, and when she turned her head, she saw nothing. With a sigh, she climbed the rickety wooden ladder to the loft.

  Down below, horses snuffled and shifted. The loft was open in the center, all the way down to the horses and the packed-dirt floor below. Ropes and pulleys hung limply from the beams overhead. The barn smelled of animals, new hay, and sweet feed. Once more she thought she saw shadows move strangely toward the back of the barn, but when she stood still and stared, she saw nothing else, and she finally convinced herself it was just a trick of the waning moonlight. Stomach full and still happy about being able to do a good turn to Vivian and the innkeeper, Aidane wrapped herself in the blankets and settled down on the hay to sleep.

  The moon had set when the voice woke her. Wake up. Bad man coming. Wake up!

  It took Aidane a moment to realize that the warning had not been spoken but sounded in her mind. She shook herself awake to see Vivian crouched beside her. The child looked terrified. Wake up. Bad man is downstairs. Hide!

&nb
sp; Just then, Aidane heard footsteps and the crunch of gravel. She reached out to sense if other ghosts might be able to tell her what was happening, but the spirits that had been plentiful earlier had fled, all except for Vivian.

  Buka! Aidane thought. Only Buka or the Black Robes could inspire such terror among the dead. Just then, Vivian gave a choked sob of terror and winked out of sight. Aidane heard the ladder creak under someone’s weight as the intruder began to climb.

  Desperate, Aidane looked around the loft. She saw a pitchfork stuck tines down in a mound of hay and wriggled out of her blankets, stretching and shifting as noiselessly as possible until she could grasp the pitchfork. She waited in the darkness, pitchfork poised, watching the space where the ladder opened into the loft.

  A man’s head and shoulders rose above the opening. In the dim light, Aidane could barely make out the form of a bald man’s head and broad shoulders. The head turned until the man was staring straight at where she hid in the shadows. A dangerous smile crept across his features and his eyes glinted with malice.

  “I know you’re up here, ghost whore. I can feel your magic. I have a little of my own. Just enough to feel the souls when they slip from their bodies. All I need is your blood. Just blood. Blood to feed my amulets, to silence the voices for a little while. I have a charm to make them go away. You shouldn’t have run from me. I’d have killed you quickly. Now,” he said and clucked his tongue. “I don’t have all my knives with me. It will take longer.”

  Aidane gave a loud whoop and ran toward Buka, pitchfork angled at his throat. His arms had not yet cleared the narrow opening in the floor, and Aidane sank the tines deep into his chest and shoulder and then ran for the edge of the loft as Buka howled in pain.

  The long handle of the pitchfork thrashed as Buka struggled to free himself, and it caught Aidane on the knee, sending her sprawling. She had hoped to let herself over the loft’s edge and drop to the floor below, but she fell, stumbling toward the edge. At the last minute, Aidane managed to grab one of the ropes dangling from overhead. It was enough to slow her fall to the stable below, though the rough hemp burned her hands. Aidane gathered her skirts and limped out of the barn, hearing Buka’s footsteps pounding behind her.