The Ghost Princess (Graylands Book 1)

by M. Walsh

  “What are you doing here?” asked Lily.

  “As I said,” Frost replied. “I’m something of an interested party in these affairs. I have my comings and goings, and I needed a place to rest. Why camp in the dirt when you occupy a former great hall such as this?”

  “... right,” Lily said, glancing at Krutch.

  He frowned and shook his head. “So what’s the deal, Frost?” he asked. “What’s with this Katrina lady, and why does everyone want her?”

  “Gather ‘round, children,” the Vicar said, sitting beside the fire. “It’s story time.

  “Once upon a time,” he began, as Krutch and Lily sat across from him. “There was the kingdom of Vigor—the most beautiful kingdom in all the Realm, putting even the High Eldér to shame. The land of Vigor was the greatest power of the world, keeping peace between the Empires, and a beacon of prosperity, ruled by a noble King, his Queen, and their baby daughter. It was said their bloodline went back to the Seraphim of old.

  “But one dark day, the King was overthrown by the evil general, Armand Tyrell. Tyrell, aligned with dark powers, took the capital with a horde of like-minded chaps and demons at his command. The King and Queen were killed, but the infant Princess was smuggled from the capital city in secret.

  “As there tends to be, a prophecy foretold of the day when the Princess would return, slay Tyrell, reclaim the throne, and restore Vigor to a land of peace and beauty.

  “The Princess was found by rebels against Tyrell’s rule, and they raised her in preparation for her grand and noble destiny. Her young life is spent training and preparing and fighting and jumping through all the hoops Chosen Heroes have to go through in their gallant journeys.

  “Finally, the day came when the Princess laid siege to the capital and fought the villain that stole her kingdom. And oh, she fought bravely and heroically and slew the evil usurper—avenging her fallen parents and reclaiming what rightfully belonged to her, ensuring a new golden age for her kingdom and people.”

  He paused to puff on his pipe, a sardonic smile on his face.

  “But as fate would have it, there was a catch,” he continued. “What the Princess didn’t know—what no one knew—was Tyrell had a contingency plan. He knew of the prophecy that foretold his doom, and he feared the Princess. So he made arrangements where, should he die, the Red Plague would spread from stores hidden under the castle to the farthest borders of Vigor—consuming everyone in the land.

  “And so it went, the Princess slew the evil villain and fulfilled her destiny. And just as Tyrell’s heart stopped beating, a massive red cloud burst out from beneath the castle. It billowed up, covering the entire capital, and then spread all over Vigor—the only ones spared by the plague were whomever happened to still be in the castle at the time.

  “So the Princess saw her entire kingdom consumed in the Red Plague. She watched as death spread all over the land like a sick, red tide. All her hard work and everything she’d fought for dies right before her eyes.

  “They say she then screamed so long and so loud, her voice was permanently damaged and a shock of white marked her hair.”

  Krutch didn’t say anything, but he saw Lily go pale and her eyes widen.

  “Most believe the Princess killed herself out of grief,” the Vicar continued. “But there are some that say she lives on. Of course, should you happen to cross paths with her, she’d never tell you who she was—probably just tell you her name is something like ‘Rien’ and nothing more. But they say she wanders the land—broken, hopeless, and with nowhere to go. Like a ghost.

  “And that, children,” he said, taking another puff from his pipe and sighing. “Is the story of the Ghost Princess.”

  Krutch could think of nothing to say. He knew about Vigor. Once the most powerful nation in the Realm and acting as a balance between the Two Empires. When he was a kid, he remembered people saying it had fallen into corruption—although, being young as we was, he paid little attention to politics.

  He remembered hearing something about the plague and Vigor going to ruin. After that, it was just the Two Empires left to their own devices, and the Realm has been in a practical cold war ever since. Every so often, he’d hear his would-be comrades talk of how tensions between the two kingdoms could break out into war any day.

  He glanced over at Lily, and she looked dumbstruck. “So,” she said. “So what happens if Kader gets to her?”

  “More prophecy,” said Frost. “Because of the blood in her veins, Lady Lamont is a very important person who, whether she is aware of it or not—whether she likes it or not—is linked to very important powers in this world.

  “There is a sacred dagger—called the Dragon’s Fang—enchanted for a single purpose: if her blood be spilt by the dagger under the Devil’s Moon, an evil power not seen since the Dark Emperor would be unleashed onto the world.”

  Both Krutch and Lily were silent. Partially because he could think of nothing else, Krutch muttered, “That’s insane.”

  Vicar Frost simply smiled. “That’s life,” he said. “Funny world we live in, isn’t it?”

  * * *

  Katrina didn’t know why, but she felt her chest tighten more and more as they approached the ruins. The road started to dip downhill into a valley, while the woods to the left elevated—creating a wall of dirt and rock that increased the further they traveled. From the thick fog shrouding the land and way the air turned damp, she guessed if they had gone through the forest, they’d be in the swamp.

  The road became less defined as they moved. Trees were less frequent and stood bare, twisted in grotesque shapes. The ground was damp, gray, and muddy, and the air was cold. Ahead, in the south, the sky darkened to almost black at the horizon. Katrina knew they were traveling in forsaken lands—nearing the borders to the evil parts of the world where creatures of the Black reigned.

  The first sign of the ruins was the vague shape of a massive tower hovering in the thick fog. It stood like a threatening sentinel watching over the land. As they drew closer, an outline of the rest of the ancient city could be made out.

  The horses whined and seemed reluctant to keep going. Katrina felt an unpleasant shiver in her blood and the thought, This is a place where things come to die, flashed across her mind.

  They rounded the rock wall, finding the ruins nestled beside the cliff. In the distance, Katrina could make out the hint of a waterfall—though the water looked thick and putrid. Kader led her to a small crevice and dismounted, motioning her to do the same.

  “We should go on foot from here,” he said.

  “What’s our plan?” she asked, feeling dizzy and tense. For some reason, she had trouble concentrating.

  “Luckily, the fog will provide us some cover,” he said. “We’ll slip in and find Lily. If we’re fortunate, we can find her and get her out before anyone even knows we’re here.”

  Katrina tried to dip back into her past training and experience. She felt sure she should’ve said something or had some kind of better plan, but she couldn’t think straight. Her hands were shaking, and her legs felt weak. She was sweating, and the urge for a drink never felt stronger—as was a feeling of certain doom.

  She tried to shake it off, gripped her sword—

  (it’s so much like my father’s ... it’s heavy just like his was ... I hate it ... I never wanted it)

  —and followed after Kader as he headed toward the ruin.

  The city was arranged in concentric circles. The center was a wide open, circular space—almost like an altar. Stone temples and structures circled around, spreading outward to the edge of the city. Four massive towers overlooked the center, probably placed in keeping with north, south, east, and west. Similar, but much taller towers were built around the outer edge of the city in the same pattern.

  Everything was built from stone. The roads were paved, but worn down with cracks looking like diseased veins. Sickly patches of weeds poked through several of them. Most of the buildings and towers were connected w
ith dilapidated bridges, and canals were spread all throughout, hinting at a complex interior structure underneath.

  The air stunk of rot and decay. Within the canals, Katrina could see putrid sludge that looked an almost black shade of green—likely spilling over from the nearby swamp and festering there. Sneaking through the ruins, she thought it felt less like an ancient city and more like a sewer. Whatever the place might have once been, it was now a foul and forsaken place where evil things brewed and infested. Even the graveyard she found with Lily in the forest didn’t feel this unsettling or unnatural.

  She and Kader were halfway into the city when Katrina realized she could hear her own heart beating. Aside from the realization she was close to panic, she was also concerned there appeared to be no sign of anybody else. The towers and stone structures stood impassive and still—their empty windows, dark and lifeless. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling they were being watched.

  Welcome, Katrina. We’ve been waiting.

  She flinched, her eyes darting around. Did she really hear that? Or was it in her head?

  “Kader,” she whispered. “This is wrong. Something’s not right.”

  “I wouldn’t worry, Katrina,” he said, tonelessly. “We’re almost there.” He continued walking ahead, not looking at her.

  Just relax, Princess. It’ll all be over soon.

  She nearly jumped. The voice came over her like she’d been draped by a spider’s web. She was sweating and felt the cold fingers of panic flicking her heart. Her stomach churned, and she kept hearing whispers in the wind. She followed Kader without thinking, and with a shudder, suddenly had a flash of wandering through her home, Vigor, after the plague had wiped everyone out.

  It all comes around, Katrina. This was meant to be.

  “Stop it,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “Kader ... this isn’t ... we shouldn’t be here ...”

  “Just a little further.”

  He strolled ahead, almost nonchalantly, and finally came upon the central circle of the ruins. Katrina stumbled after him, her head swimming and feeling like something was pressing down on her heart. She had the sword in her hand, but she had no strength in her arm.

  “Kader,” she said. “We shouldn’t be here ...”

  “I’m afraid you’re wrong, Katrina,” he said, sounding oddly sure of himself. He turned and looked at her, looking calm and content—the hint of a smile on his face. “This is exactly where we’re supposed to be.”

  “What..?” she said. “What did you call me..?”

  “Lady Lamont,” a deep, but slick voice called out. From the shadows of one of the towers emerged a tall, lanky figure with long white hair, wearing black leather covered with buckles and straps. His eyes were sunken and piercing, and a black mask hid the lower half of his pale, skeletal face. “At last we meet.”

  Daredin was flanked by Rictor and the grinning Hawke twins. All around, black-clad disciples emerged, surrounding the area.

  Katrina’s blood ran cold, and her memories were flooded of past battles. Dozens of close calls, ambushes, and fallen friends—and a sickening realization this was all about her after all. She was the one they wanted—not Lily.

  “I’m sure you know who I am,” said Daredin. “And I know who you are. The fallen hero, long thought dead, wandering the land with nothing for a name. The Ghost Princess—Heir to a Dead Throne.”

  Carlyle Hawke giggled, and his sister, Lenora—the voice in Katrina’s head—said, “Aw, she looks so lost and sad. Poor thing.”

  Daredin approached Kader and said, “Well done, Rasul. Well done, indeed.”

  He replied with a smug grin. “It was my pleasure.”

  Katrina trembled and felt her will withering away. In its place, the first signs of panic threatened to overwhelm. Run, she suddenly thought. Turn around and run as fast as you can. Get out of here.

  As if hearing her thoughts, the shrill screech of demons exploded throughout the ruins. She saw quick movements in the corners, hidden in the shadows. They were everywhere—waiting in the darkness: orcs and gargoyles, infesting the catacombs and ready to swarm at the first sign of her movement.

  “Come along now, dear,” said Daredin, sounding almost soothing. “There’s no need to drag this out. We have grand things in store ...”

  Despair gripped her heart, momentarily pushing down the panic. Again, she was the pawn ...

  (victim)

  ... of destiny and fate. A prop to be moved along by people and things beyond her control. An object to be used because of the damnable circumstances of her birth. She wished she never left Dictum. Never met the Sentries and followed them west. Never met Lily and never let herself care about the girl.

  Further than that, she wished—and not for the first time—Sofia had never found her in the orphanage. Never told her who her parents really were and what her bloodline meant.

  She tried to lift the sword, but there was no strength in her. She searched for her anger—something that would inspire her to rage against these bastards that hoped to use her. Her bitterness against the years she’d been used and abused in the name of “destiny.”

  But she found none of it—it was drowned underneath crushing despair and the cold horror of panic. The sword dropped from her hand and fell to the ground at her feet.

  “Take her.”

  19

  As Katrina and Rasul Kader were making their final approach to the ancient ruins, Vicar Frost was leading Krutch and Lily through the woods toward the swamp. Every step of the way, Krutch tried as best he could to not let the severity of the situation sink in. He was having enough trouble mentally preparing himself for the trek through the swamp—now the stakes had been raised to the potential fate of the world.

  Frost told them the rest—Daredin, his dream to fulfill the prophecy, and hiring Kader. Now knowing the full story, Lily was even more determined to help and insisted they waste no more time. He decided not to think about it and just followed, fearing if he dwelt on it too long he’d turn tail and run away.

  Guess I should’ve taken Lily up on her suggestion to turn back when I had the chance.

  According to the Vicar, the swamp was not their only roadblock. He led them to the outskirts, and in the distance, Krutch could see through the mist the hints of marshland. The fog almost seemed like a curtain acting as a barrier between the last of the forest and the dreadful bog beyond.

  Camped just outside this barrier, Frost revealed the last remnants of Lemmy Hobbs and his men. They sat circled around a small fire, looking cold, miserable, and angry. Krutch was surprised enough to see them still lurking around, but even more so to find their numbers—almost twenty when he last saw them—had dwindled down to seven, including Hobbs himself.

  “Weren’t there more of you guys?” asked Lily, apparently thinking the same thing. “When Katrina and I fought them, there was over a dozen more.”

  “Alas,” said Frost, “the band has fallen on hard times. Between the gargoyles, Sentries, desertion, and other sinister forces, it seems every day another one just goes missing.”

  “What are they doing?” asked Lily. “Have you been with them?”

  “We crossed paths the other day,” said the Vicar. “I’m not entirely certain, but I believe Mr. Hobbs either still intends to kidnap Lady Lamont, or blames Mr. Kader for his misfortunes and seeks vengeance. Either way, they too intend to cross the swamp for the ruins.”

  Krutch snorted. If he actually gave a damn about Hobbs and his mutinous men, he might have felt sorry for them, but he was hard-pressed to feel any pity for their plight.

  Hey, I was the guy that said we should ditch the job and move on.

  “Okay, so,” he said. “It shouldn’t be a big deal getting past them, right..? They’re down to a handful.”

  “Indeed,” said Frost. “The real concern is, should you be spotted, they might stir what’s lurking in the swamp. Loud noises and fighting would be a fast way to bring up all the not-so-little nasties.”

 
“He’s right,” Lily said. “If we’re going to get through the swamp, we need to move quietly. Last thing we need is your boys causing a scuffle.”

  “Then again,” Frost said, yawning. “That could also work to your advantage—wake all the bugs and beasts up and hope they focus on your former comrades.”

  The thought passed through Krutch’s mind, but he shivered upon thinking of seeing people—even traitorous pirates and thieves—getting mauled and eaten by giant insects. However he might have felt about his former men, no one deserved that—and he definitely didn’t want the sight of that haunting his nightmares for months to come.

  “Okay,” he said. “So you think we can find a way around?”

  Lily nodded and motioned him to follow her.

  “Hey, wait,” he said, stopping her. “Frost, why don’t you distract them, so we—” He turned around to find the Vicar was gone without a trace. “Oh, son of a bitch!” he whined.

  “So much for that,” said Lily, shrugging. “Is he like a wizard or something..?”

  “You know what,” he moaned, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head. “Forget it. He’s not worth it. Let’s just go, before it sinks in how much of a bad idea this all is.”

  They started creeping around the side, where the pirates weren’t looking. Lily moved quickly and quietly enough, but Krutch felt tension stinging into him like a drill. At every step, he expected his old Leeroy luck to kick in and see Hobbs or Arkady or any of the others just sense he was near.

  Fortunately, as they passed the camp, it seemed they’d get by easy enough. Hobbs and the others were occupied with themselves and not paying attention to anything around them. He thought they might have found a bit of luck, until they reached the border of the swamp.

  The edge of the forest gave way to a small but steep hill overlooking the swamp proper. Where Krutch and Lily emerged, the hill sank into thick, sludge-like water with mist hovering over it like some kind of ghostly plague. The nearest visible solid ground they would be able to walk on was nearby, but to get to it, they would have to walk back toward where Hobbs and the pirates were camped.