The Ghost Princess (Graylands Book 1)

by M. Walsh

  She hadn’t had a notion like that in years. To put others before herself and fight for something other than her own self-defense. She felt a wave of dizziness and craved a drink. Was she ready for this? Weren’t her “hero” days over?

  Luckily, the Enforcer wound up offering an answer for her. Crashing and thumping broke out near the back of the cathedral—the sound of wood smashing, stones crumbling, and even some glass breaking. The floor shook, and entire clumps of dust rained from the ceiling. It seemed the Enforcer had taken a more aggressive approach to his search.

  “Lily,” she said. “Come on. We’ll sneak out through here and make a run for it. Hopefully, while he’s breaking everything, he won’t hear us.”

  Lily looked up at her, eyes dark and sunken—to her shock, she looked like she had the flu—and nodded. She crawled out of the narrow opening first and lingered only to make sure Katrina was able to follow.

  Katrina took a brief glance into the cathedral and saw the Enforcer violently hurling rotted pews and pounding on debris—either in unchecked fury or thinking he’d find them that way. She motioned Lily to go and followed.

  Neither of them cared what direction they were running—just as long as it took them far away and out of sight.

  * * *

  Lily felt better as soon as they were clear of the cemetery. Almost instantly, she breathed easier and looked relieved, as if she’d been freed of chronic pain.

  They kept moving until sundown. Katrina knew sooner or later they’d have to set up camp, but she didn’t like the idea of starting a fire out in the open. Even if they lost the Enforcer, he was still out there searching for them—not to mention the pirates.

  Scattered about for the next mile or so, they passed more broken walls, toppled pillars, and empty foundations of stone. They found the skeletal remains of a structure that could’ve been a house or building once, but now was little more than halves of walls, piles of rocks, and long stones that were once statues, but over time had withered away to unrecognizable shapes. It provided enough cover for shelter and a small fire.

  Katrina was weary and felt certain she could sleep even on the bare, stone floor. Having not eaten since the previous night, her stomach rumbled and, although she craved it, the thought of another drink made the acid in her belly bubble painfully.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have food on you?” she asked.

  Lily shook her head.

  “You didn’t bring anything with you?”

  “I figured I’d have reached a town by now.” She smirked and added, “Why didn’t you bring food?”

  “The Sentries I was with had it. I didn’t exactly have time to pack it up.” She sighed, staring up at the ceiling, and realized, if there was no food and she couldn’t handle liquor, “How about a cigarette..?”

  “I don’t smoke.”

  “Ain’t that the devil’s piss,” she grumbled, scratching her hair. “Oh, well. Assuming we don’t run into any more trouble, I think we should hit Bevy by tomorrow.”

  They sat in silence for some time, trying to keep warm by the small fire. The night outside had turned bitter cold. Katrina saw the clouds in the sky break enough to allow a shining moon to be seen. It highlighted the surrounding clouds, making them glow gray, while the bare sky was deep blue.

  Her thoughts returned to before the Enforcer appeared. There was something unusual about Lily. Her general nature was one thing. But even with the bitter cold and small fire, she showed no sign of discomfort—as if she didn’t feel it. Did she have natural talents and abilities that couldn’t be explained?

  Not unlike Katrina, who was still in near-peak physical condition and a formidable fighter despite the years spent trying to drink herself to death. That wasn’t luck or effort, and it was more than the training she’d endured in her youth. It was in her blood—because of her family line.

  It was usually a sign. A signal the person was meant for greater purposes. And then there was the incident in the cemetery and her reluctance to talk about her past.

  “Lily,” she said, taking a breath. “Tell me honestly, is there anything about you that ... I should know?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Where do you come from? Are you in any kind of trouble? Is there anything you’re hiding?”

  Lily fidgeted, looking uncomfortable. “What difference would that make?”

  “Please, Lily. It might be important.”

  “Well ... I guess I am being ... followed.”

  “By who?”

  “I don’t know. He’s a man with graying hair. He wears a black cloak and fedora. That’s why I was staying off the main road.”

  “What does he want with you?”

  Lily brushed some of her hair behind her ear, looking sad and worried. “I think he wants to kill me.”

  Katrina stood up and started pacing around the room. She was again struck by the unsettling familiarity of it all. She reflected on everything she’d been through since encountering Kader. Was it all connected? Was it more than coincidence she should meet Lily when she did?

  “Why is this important?” Lily asked. “What do you think is going on?”

  “You remember I said this all started when Rasul Kader came to me saying he wanted my help finding a girl?”

  Lily nodded, and after a moment, her eyes widened. “You don’t think it’s me, do you?”

  She looked at her with a pained shrug. “It crossed my mind.”

  This time it was Lily who rose to her feet and started pacing around. “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” she said, holding her hands up. “I think you got the wrong girl ...”

  “Believe me, I know how crazy this sounds, but—”

  “You said Kader didn’t say anything about the girl he was looking for. What makes you think it could be me?”

  Katrina paused, trying to find the way to phrase it. “It’s just a gut feeling, I guess.” She paused again and shrugged. “There is something about you, Lily.”

  “That’s not what you think,” said Lily, shooting her a grave look.

  “This man that’s following you—why is he trying to kill you?”

  “Because ...” She trailed off, unable to find anything to say. “I—I don’t know,” she stammered. “Not because of this Kader guy!” She paced around some more, shaking her head with a look Katrina could see was extreme dread. “And what if I am who Kader is looking for? Then what? What is he planning to do with me? How do you know it’s anything good or I even want it?”

  Lily pressed her back against the wall and sank to the floor, hugging her knees.

  Katrina watched her and felt a surge of sympathy. She’d been there before. She remembered being told she was more than she knew. That there was more to her family than she was aware—and that it meant important things. She remembered not believing it, not understanding, and wishing it was someone else.

  “Why me?” Lily asked. “What would Kader or ... whoever else need me for?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, sitting beside her. “Maybe something to do with your parents..? Do you know or remember anything about that?”

  “I don’t have parents.”

  “Then it beats me,” she said with a sigh, shaking her head. “Hell if I know how these things are decided.”

  They sat in silence for several minutes. Katrina could see Lily was still upset, and she kept thinking about the concept of destiny and fate. And the more she thought of it, and in relation to both herself and Lily, the angrier she got.

  It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to thrust such responsibility on someone with no preparation or even choice. Rasul Kader and Krutch Leeroy—and whoever else was involved—were conducting their schemes and plans with this random girl as some critical component without even her knowledge. Who were these people to declare someone their chosen thing?

  And that was the key wasn’t it? Not a human being. Not a man, woman, or child. A thing. A weapon to be refined, perfected, and set out to do what it was tol
d in the name of “destiny.”

  They call it fate. To be chosen by destiny. But isn’t it really just being a victim? To have your life and choices robbed from you because you had the dumb luck of being born under a certain phase of the moon or during a particular alignment of stars? It was more than unfair. It was wrong.

  “Lily,” she said, her voice again sounding stronger and more clear than usual. “Listen, we’re going to figure out what the hell is going on. If you’re not the one Kader and everyone is after, then we have nothing to worry about. If you are ... we’ll figure something out. Whatever happens, I’m going to stick by your side. Okay..?”

  Lily looked at her with a light smile. “Thanks, Rien.”

  “Katrina.”

  “What..?”

  She remained still for several moments. Hearing her own name out loud sounded strange, even coming from her own voice. Finally, she cleared her throat and said, “My name is Katrina.”

  Lily smiled again and lied down. Katrina did the same, but didn’t doze off for some time. She reflected on everything that happened for the past few days. Kader, the Sentries, Leeroy, the Enforcer, and now Lily. What if it all was fate? Everything coming into alignment for ...

  For what? Was it for Lily? Was she meant for some divine purpose? Or was this to force Katrina back into battle? Was she destined ...

  (doomed)

  ... to a life of battle no matter what she did?

  (Or wanted?)

  She shivered on the thought and felt her hand tremble. She pushed it out of her mind, resisted the urge to take another swig from her flask, and gripped the sword.

  “To hell with destiny,” she hissed in the darkness. “To hell with it.”

  11

  Katrina awoke first. The sun was not yet up, and it looked like the land had been shrouded in a dull shade of gray. The morning was still and silent—though it wasn’t the unnatural quiet that came when the demon howl screeched out of the south. It was soothing, and she felt at ease. At peace, even.

  She stood in the field outside the ruin she and Lily camped in. It was cool enough to see her breath waft in the air. Her hand trembled, but it had nothing to do with leaving her coat inside. She kept her hand at her sword and tried to keep her breathing steady and relaxed.

  Years of aimless wandering and prolonged drinking had done little to diminish her. She should’ve been in shambles. Her training should’ve been dulled down to nothing. But even if the passing years had slowed her down, she was still miles ahead of the average fighter. Easily on par with a high ranking Sentry Elite or Eldér Lord. She would always be a warrior—that was the truth of it, whether she liked it or not.

  The only thing holding her back was herself—the pain of her own memories.

  She drew Marcus’s sword, which she accepted as her own. It really did remind her of her father’s sword. It was large, heavy, and difficult to wield properly. Holding it in her grip, taking the familiar stance, the years came flooding back. The training, the fighting, the battles ...

  ... the wall of red spreading out to the horizon and knowing it would consume everything it touched ... her people bleeding through their eyes and trying to scream through the blood vomiting from their mouths ...

  “None of that,” she hissed, gripping the handle tighter. “Not now. That’s over.”

  She thought of Lily. She thought of dozens of other men and women that had been sucked into similar circumstances. The great tales speak of these people—calling them heroes and legends. She wondered of the ones not as fortunate to find a happy ending waiting at the end of their journey. She thought of the ones that were simply pawns of fate. Victims conned by destiny.

  Were they like her? Did they spend the rest of their lives drowning their sorrows in solitude? Did they just end it and plunge their swords through their hearts or open their wrists?

  Like I tried to ...

  Or did they move on? Pick up the pieces and find a new life? Create their own destiny—one not preordained by the heavens, gods, and shysters claiming to speak on their behalf? Was this what was happening? Could this be her chance to make her own fate? By saving someone from being forced down the same path?

  She swung the sword, thrusting forward with her weight. She swung again and again, driving forward. Her first moves were stiff and slightly awkward—Just a little rusty—but it all came back. Her breathing was a little strained—she guessed it a side-effect of the drinking and smoking—but it was nothing she couldn’t fight through.

  Soon, her movements were fluid and swift. She glided forward with grace and speed learned from the finest Eldér warriors. Despite her weight and frame, there was hidden power in her strikes—strong enough to cut down orcs twice her size. Her teachers called her poetry in motion. They said she was like the flowing of water—beautiful and graceful, but powerful and deadly.

  It was brighter by the time she finished, but the sun was hidden beneath an overcast sky. It was cold and felt like it could snow. Katrina, however, was sweating and welcomed the cool air.

  Lily was still asleep when she returned inside. She picked up her coat, and her flask fell from a pocket. Putting on her coat, she looked at it and felt the small bit of liquid still inside. After thinking it over, she walked over to the other end of the ruin and poured the remaining liquor out on the floor.

  She then sighed and sat down by the camp, deciding to rest until Lily woke up.

  * * *

  To Krutch’s profound shock, his act of bravado worked. Hobbs agreed—although reluctantly—to ditch the job. They spent the remaining day riding for the coast where they met up with the rest of the gang. Altogether, their numbers amounted to about twenty, consisting of mostly men and a handful of women.

  There was some initial confusion over their new course of action. The crew that had been waiting on the coast needed to be brought up to date, and the reasons for their dropping the job had to be explained. Krutch left all of this to Hobbs, having no interest and feeling far too happy with himself.

  Although he was still paranoid about Cyfer Mord wanting to kill him, and he still needed to find an opening to abandon his crew, Krutch was elated that, finally, his cursed reputation seemed to pay off. For once, imposing himself as the “great Krutch Leeroy” actually created results.

  His bright mood continued into the next morning. He awoke feeling good for the first time in a long while. The sky was cloudy and looked like it might snow, but otherwise, he was optimistic.

  Surrounded by twenty pirates, he felt no fear of being ambushed by the Enforcer or demons or anything of the like. His allergies weren’t bothering him, and—perhaps best of all—he saw that Cyfer Mord was nowhere to be found. No sign, no word—just packed up and gone. With him out of the picture, all that remained was planning how and when to slip away before getting stuck on a ship. And in the grand scheme of things, that was small potatoes.

  Yes, Krutch Leeroy felt very confident that morning. Which probably goes to show what a poor judge of character and situations he really is.

  * * *

  He remembered eating breakfast, something hitting his head, and then darkness.

  When he awoke, he was bound to a tree, surrounded by several pirates—chief among them, Lemmy Hobbs. They were talking and laughing among themselves, and not for the first time, Krutch wished he was still in his crap-shack bungalow.

  “The boys and I have been talking, boss,” said Hobbs. “We had a change of heart.”

  “Somehow, I gathered.”

  “See, after thinking it over and going over it with the rest of the guys, we decided we don’t really want to abandon this job after all.”

  He looked around at the faces surrounding him, and coming as no surprise, the guys that agreed with him yesterday were among them. Forcing good cheer, he said, “Well, hey! Never let it be said I don’t approve of democracy among my men!”

  “You know, I’m glad you feel that way, boss,” said Hobbs, grinning. “Because it turns out, me and t
he guys have been talking about other things, too.”

  “Have you now..?”

  “Yessir. And we decided it might be time for new leadership.”

  He suspected the conversation was going in this direction. But, oddly enough, a flicker of hope was inspired. Have they finally figured out he’s not the notorious and feared pirate all the stories claimed? Would they finally leave him alone and not drag him around on any more adventures? Did these morons finally see through the curse?

  “Well, Hobbs, if you want to take command, you have my blessing. Why don’t you cut me loose, and I’ll be on my merry way ...”

  “For years, I sat aside and followed you through hell and high water!” Hobbs suddenly barked, his face turning bitter and grim. “All these years, I’ve seen you ... Mr. high-and-mighty Krutch Leeroy look down on me and treat me like shit! You’ve been doing this so long you forgot who helped you reach the top! You forgot the guys who helped make you the ‘great’ Krutch Leeroy!

  “Well, I’ve had enough! It’s my time! You ain’t holding me down any more!”

  Krutch stared at his former (self-appointed) right-hand man. The man he had never seen before when he started acting like they’d been partners for years. He listened to this impassioned speech—that was clearly rehearsed and waiting to be unleashed for some time now—and tried to imagine the story that was evidently playing out in Hobbs’s head. To him, it seemed, Krutch was the arrogant, overbearing, nightmare boss who kept his capable and loyal subordinate crushed beneath his thumb.

  Krutch Leeroy, who would never have left his bungalow if this jackass hadn’t come knocking.

  “You have got to be kidding me.”

  “It’s all over, Leeroy,” Hobbs continued. “The age of Krutch Leeroy is over. It’s my time. It’s time for Lemmiturgen Hobbs III to rise up and become the pirate lord of this land!”

  I was considered a pirate lord..?

  “Okay, whatever. You go right ahead and do that, Lemmitergs. Cut me loose, and you’ll never see me again.”