The Ghost Princess (Graylands Book 1)

by M. Walsh

  “Krutch,” she repeated as the scene blurred and faded away. “Krutch, wake up! We have to go!”

  “But I’m so much happier here,” he moaned, coming back to reality.

  It was dark and gray, as usual, but it was morning. He shook out the cobwebs, realizing she was trying to drag him to his feet. Only then did the urgency in her voice sink in, and there was a flash of panic that hit him like she dumped cold water on him.

  “We have to go!” she said. “We have to hide!”

  He scrambled to his feet as she dragged him along. They ran a few yards until she found an overturned tree that covered a tightly squeezed hole. Without a word, Krutch was practically thrown into it, sliding beneath the downed trunk and landing in the dank, wet hole in the ground.

  Without wasting a second, Lily slid in beside him. The space was tight, and she grabbed him by his shoulders and held him close, as though hugging him. Her hand covered his mouth, and she shushed him. He almost thought she was holding onto him the way a protective mother might hold her child in danger—but he felt her body shaking and saw clear dread in her eyes.

  Lily had been calm and almost serene every step of the way. Even as the state of forest turned more and more sinister, she always kept an upbeat disposition. Krutch reached into his jacket and held his pistol, but it suddenly felt very small in his hand as he wondered what could be coming that would shake her like that.

  The Enforcer again..? Worse demons than the gargoyles..? Legions of the undead..? His grandma..?

  In the distance, he saw two shapes moving through the woods. He clenched and gripped his gun even tighter—but recognized one of the individuals was Drake Garrison. He immediately relaxed, as if he’d seen an old friend. If Drake found him, he would kill him on sight, but Krutch could at least handle a patrolling Sentry.

  He glanced at Lily and almost whispered something, but she put her finger to her lips.

  Drake wasn’t alone. With him was a tall, thin man with a narrow face, short, graying hair, and wearing a black cloak and matching fedora. He had several daggers and religious talismans strapped to his belt, and he talked with Drake, looking around the woods, occasionally glancing at footprints and checking leaves.

  He wasn’t a Sentry, but he didn’t look like a Mage, despite the talismans. He was some kind of holy man, Krutch could tell that much.

  He sensed the tension coming from Lily. Her eyes were locked on the cloaked man, and she looked pale and worried. Suddenly, he was struck by strong protective impulse to charge out and open fire on Drake and the cloaked man with him. Without realizing it, his hand was gripping the pistol, and legs tensed, ready to spring.

  He only realized what was happening when Lily held him tighter and stared at him with wide, frightened eyes—as if to say, What are you doing?

  He calmed down, surprised at himself. What was he planning to do, and where did that impulse come from? He shook it off and relaxed, waiting with Lily as Drake and the cloaked man talked some more. Eventually, they were joined by a few more Sentries and rode off.

  Once they were gone, Lily crept out of the hole. She let out a sigh of relief and gestured Krutch to come out, too. He crawled out and sat beside her as the color returned to her face and warmth to her eyes. Just like that, she was herself again. Looking at her, the thought returned: She might not be the one Kader wants, but there’s something about this girl.

  “Okay,” he said. “What the hell was that about?”

  “What was what..?” she asked.

  “The guy with Drake Garrison,” he said. “Garrison is a Sentry Elite, you know..?”

  “I take it you’ve met.”

  “More often than I’d like. But he’s not the issue. Who was the guy with him? You’ve been cool and calm this whole time, but then this guy shows up, you’re cowering in a hole.”

  She brushed some hair behind her ear, looking tired. “Demons I can handle,” she said. “I told you: I come from around here. We learned to live with the threat of demons. They’re like a storm—just stay out of their way and wait for them to pass.”

  “And this other guy..? He’s different..?”

  She squirmed uncomfortably. “His name is Vogel. Benedict Vogel.” She looked at him, almost apologetically. “He ... um ... he’s after me.”

  “What is he..? Some kind of mercenary or something? He didn’t look like a Mage.”

  “Yes and no, I suppose,” she said, shrugging. “He’s a kind of priest, too.”

  “A priest..? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  “Not officially. Not really,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. She stared off to the side, looking distressed and sad. “If it was just Sentries, I wouldn’t mind at all. But Vogel ... you see ... it’s difficult to explain.”

  Krutch leaned forward, his elbows propped on his knees, curious where this was going.

  “You see, Krutch, where I come from, I ... um ... I’m kind of, well, different. And you see, certain people don’t really ... approve of me.” She paused, fidgeting some more. “Vogel is one of those people, and he was sent after me.”

  “What is it..? Some kind of cult..? Or religion..?”

  “I guess so. Anyway, because I’m different, I’m marked for death.” She shook her head and frowned. “I thought I lost him in Canton, but he must’ve ... he must’ve doubled back or something and joined the Sentries in Bevy. That’s why I ran after the gargoyles attacked.”

  He scratched his head, taking this in. “Why not tell the Sentry Elite? I mean, I’m assuming he’s fed them some horseshit story, and that’s why he’s traveling with them.”

  “I would, but it’d be his word against mine. And he has more credibility than me. Sentries wouldn’t be able to help me. If anything, they’d be on his side.”

  She finally looked at him, and he was struck by the look in her eyes. She stared at him with large, gorgeous eyes that seemed to sparkle. She looked so sad and lonely, and again, Krutch felt an immediate surge of chivalry—an intense desire to find this Vogel guy and put a bullet in his head.

  “Krutch,” she said, gently, as if sensing what he was thinking. “This is why I didn’t want you to come with me. I made my choice to try and help Katrina, but I also have plenty of my own ... baggage, too. I really don’t want you getting caught up in my problems in addition to your own.”

  He shook his head, clearing out the fantasies of playing hero and rescuing the poor maiden in need. Stupid thinking that tended to get him in trouble. “I don’t get it, though,” he said. “Why would this Vogel be so determined to hunt you down? That’s pretty extreme, even for a cult.”

  Lily fell quiet. “Krutch, I don’t want to lie to you.”

  “But you don’t want to tell me the truth..?”

  She nodded, still looking sad.

  “Okay. But just tell me something: you don’t want to tell me the truth—is it because the truth will change my opinion of you? Or is it because you’re afraid if I know the truth, it’ll only get me into more trouble?”

  She thought about it for a while and replied, “Little of both.”

  He nodded and thought long and hard about what he’d been through for the past few days—with Lily especially. Ever since he’d been cursed, his life had been beyond his control. Everyone he met was trying to either kill him or rope him into trouble. No matter how much he might protest, everyone else seemed to decide he was Krutch Leeroy and therefore needed to come along for the big adventure.

  And yet, here was someone who not only believed he wasn’t what his reputation made him out to be, but was trying to actually keep him out of trouble. He didn’t rule out the possibility this was part of some scheme. That she was some kind of master of manipulation and would turn out to be another example of his curse getting him into trouble. But ...

  “You know what, Lily,” he said. “I’m not the great warrior everyone says I am. I know I’m not much of ... anything when it comes to battle, adventure, or heroics. But I give you my word—wh
atever that’s worth—I’m going to help you find your friend, and I’m definitely not going to let this Vogel guy hurt you.”

  She stared at him with wide eyes. “Krutch,” she said, “not that I don’t appreciate that, but I am not the person you should be making that kind of promise to.”

  “Maybe. But I don’t care. Frankly Lily, since the beginning of this week, you have been the one and only person I’ve encountered who hasn’t been actively wrecking my life. I might not be much, but I don’t short-change my friends.”

  She smiled. “Careful there, Leeroy. You’re almost starting to sound like an actual adventurer.”

  “Well, one thing at a time. Besides, what exactly have I got to lose by going against this Vogel guy? Is he going to report me to the Sentry Elite and have me arrested? Whoopti-shit.”

  Lily giggled. “Well, whatever you really are Krutch Leeroy, you’re a good man in my book—whatever that’s worth.” She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  Krutch’s head swam. His cheeks flushed, and for a moment, he felt lighter than air. Somewhere distantly, he heard Lily say they should get moving, and he agreed—but his conscious mind was still floating somewhere in the clouds.

  He remained still for a few moments, a dopey smile on his face. Is this what being a hero feels like? To be that guy—the one that stands up for the lady, defends her from potential harm, and saves the day?

  He wondered if maybe it was worth it to do that sort of thing. And in that moment, he saw himself standing up to this Benedict Vogel and heroically fighting him off to save Lily. He then saw himself charging through the ranks of his former pirate mates—Lemmy Hobbs last of all—and saving Lily’s friend from Rasul Kader.

  And then, with the day saved, he saw Drake Garrison and the Sentry Elite finally accepting he wasn’t the notorious pirate and letting him go to ride into the sunset with Lily by his side—off to live happily ever after.

  Calm down, jackass. All you’ve done is decide to shoot a priest in the face if he bothers the strange woman you barely know. Not exactly the stuff of legends.

  Ah, reality, Krutch thought, snapping out of it. A harsh mistress, to be sure.

  * * *

  The day grew no brighter as it went on. Katrina suspected this was due to being so close to the Dark Lands. Another two or three days journey further south, one would reach the Dread Sea, a dismal and foul stretch of water said to look almost black. Past the sea lay the borders of the forsaken lands, where demons and creatures of the Black lived and thrived.

  No human, Eldér, or Graigman had ever been to the Dark Lands and returned. Katrina herself, in all her wanderings, never dared go near the southern point of Graylands, where the Seraphim Towers act as a border against the Black. In fact, she realized as she and Kader approached the town of Fane, this was probably the furthest south she’d ever been.

  She took no fulfillment in that dubious accomplishment. Even less so when they found the condition Fane was in.

  Fane wasn’t much of a town, as it was. There appeared to only be one main dirt road that ran down the center with two rows of buildings on either side consisting mostly of a handful of shacks and little else aside from an inn, tavern, jailhouse, and single market. Like Melba to the east, it seemed less of a town and more of an outpost—acting as the last vestige of civilization, warning there was nothing beyond this point but frontier and wasteland.

  What Katrina noted right away was the lack of an outer wall. She thought of Dictum’s old, worn-down wall—riddled with pot marks, rot, and graffiti. Fane didn’t even have the benefit of that. It stood out in the open, and she could see as they approached all she needed to.

  There wasn’t much left. The inn, tavern, and market looked desolate and abandoned—though not just from weather and age. Several of the shacks had been burnt or torn down—some still smoldering. There was no sound, save for the crows and a dull breeze that made the wooden structures creek and moan. No movement could be seen anywhere, and if not for some streams of faded smoke, the town could easily have been mistaken for deserted.

  Or a graveyard, she thought.

  They didn’t need to go far before finding the first evidence of the massacre. The stench of death and chattering of crows greeted them first. Dismembered bodies were hanging from the roofs—the torsos hollowed out and even chewed in some places. Limbs were strewn about. Most of the heads were on pikes, lining up and down the street—the faces, rotting and half eaten by crows, frozen in expressions of horror and pain.

  Kader looked like he wanted to gag. Katrina shivered, troubled less by the brutality as she was the sickening familiarity of it all. “This town is dead,” she said.

  Kader hesitated, regaining his composure. “What do you suppose happened here?”

  “The gargoyles,” she said. “They must’ve hit Fane on their way north.”

  He almost gagged again and covered his nose and mouth with a handkerchief. “Could they do this that fast?”

  “Yes,” she said. “But this wasn’t fast. They took their time with this place.”

  She looked around and shivered. Even if Fane had a perimeter wall, it would’ve done no good. As savage and animalistic creatures of the Black could be, they were not without their own sense of sadism and cruelty. She knew that from experience.

  In the distance to the east, she could see the woods. The trees looked darker—drained of color. The land all around her looked dismal and withering. Not barren, though—there might have been life once.

  “Kader,” she said. “Could Daredin be responsible for what’s happening in the forest?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “The Sentries I left Dictum with said they were investigating a sickness in the forest. Some kind of growing darkness that started in the south and was spreading.”

  “The ruins have always been a beacon of evil,” he said. “But yes, I think it’s likely Daredin and his influence could be the cause of it spreading. Why..?”

  She wondered what kind of people had lived in Fane. It didn’t look like much of a family village. Probably some miners, drifters, and wandering merchants. Working men. She remembered seeing the results of demon raids in her youth—the burnt homes, the bodies in the streets, the destruction—and felt anger stir in her heart, reminding her of days gone by when it was her duty to defend—or avenge—the victims of such attacks. Her heartbeat sped up, and her stomach churned.

  That son of a bitch Daredin let these monsters loose, she thought, her blood turning cold.

  “Ms. Rien..? Are you okay?”

  “Just,” she choked out. “Just give me a moment.”

  She remembered the harshest battles from her youth—the ones that involved demons and other creatures of the Black. She remembered the fires and screaming and those abominations’ wretched roars. Most of all, she remembered the resolve she used to feel then. The desire—no, determination—to see to it justice was served and evil punished.

  She felt dizzy, but fought it off. She controlled her breathing and forced herself to calm down. Keep it together, she told herself. You can’t be doing this when Lily needs you.

  “Are you okay..?” Kader repeated.

  “Yes,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

  Katrina rode ahead, reminding herself she only wanted to save Lily—no more than that—and ignored the growing desire to cut Jacob Daredin’s head from his shoulders.

  17

  Before they started moving, Krutch cooked the last of the beef he took from the pirates’ camp. It wasn’t much—and tasted like rubber—but it had to suffice. Lily didn’t eat, saying she wasn’t hungry, and it occurred to him she hadn’t eaten anything since he met her. He had little time to dwell on it, as she insisted they get going as soon as he finished.

  As dark as it was where Katrina and Kader were, it was even more so in the woods. The condition of the forest deteriorated as they went along. The tree trunks looked almost black and void of all color. Grass
was petrified and rotten, crumbling beneath their feet with an audible crunch. The leaves, once the fall colors of orange and yellow, had been reduced to dull shades of gray and brown. It looked less like a forest and more like a macabre parody of one.

  Although his condition was improving, Krutch’s body remained sore and stiff from constant movement and sleeping on the hard ground. His stomach rumbled, and the bits of meat he’d eaten weren’t sitting so well either. When this was all over, he considered, he would need to find a soft bed and private bathroom—and not be seen again for days.

  “I think the swamp is a couple miles further,” said Lily. “Past that are the ruins.”

  “Have you ever seen this swamp before?” he asked. “How hard will it be to get through it?”

  “It’s not the worst example of swampland you’re going to encounter this close to the Dark Lands—but it’s not pleasant. I think as long as we stay on solid ground and don’t linger, we’ll be okay.”

  “Well,” he said, yawning. “At least it’s too cold for mosquitoes and whatnot.”

  Lily stared at him for a second and let out an awkward chuckle. “Mosquitoes are the last thing to worry about in the marshes around these parts.”

  Krutch followed along for a few yards until what she said sank in.

  “Wait ... what..?”

  He scurried up behind her, repeating his question. “You see,” said Lily, “like you said, it’s too cold around here for, um, typical bugs to thrive in the swamps and marshes.”

  “Typical..?”

  “Yeah, like mosquitoes, flies, and things like that.”

  “Okay. So what kinds of things do live in the swamps around here?”

  Lily glanced at him, and he knew she didn’t want to tell him. Her eyebrows were raised, and her lips were puckered like she was sucking on her teeth. He could see she regretted saying anything at all and was debating whether to soften the truth or outright lie.