The Ghost Princess (Graylands Book 1)

by M. Walsh

  Realizing where he was, Krutch Leeroy simply muttered, “Oh, crumbs.”

  His sudden presence stunned Daredin and his followers into confusion and shocked Katrina out of her stupor. She had a brief moment to wonder, Who the hell is that? before slamming her elbow into the other disciple nearest her and running as fast as she could back the way she and Kader came.

  Behind her, she heard Daredin shout, “Forget Leeroy! Get the Princess!”

  Cold wind and rain blew threw her hair, and the ruins’ stench of age and rot filled her lungs as she charged down the narrow stone road, hoping her horse was where she left it and she’d reach it in time. The orcs howled, gargoyles shrieked, and Katrina tried desperately not to let the panic overwhelm her.

  You won’t make it, Katrina, she heard the woman’s voice in her head again. You should just give in.

  “Shut-up!” she growled.

  The horses were still there, but she could tell they were both close to fleeing on their own. They sensed the nearby demons and could hear the orcs and gargoyles. Kader’s horse was already starting to run, and Katrina desperately leapt onto her own before it could follow.

  She didn’t look back—knowing the only way out was forward. The horse picked up speed without her urging it. It knew what was after them, and it most likely knew what would happen if caught.

  Through the fog and rain, she could make out the main road. For a moment, she allowed the hope she’d be able to get clear of the ruins, find some cover to hide, and escape.

  Then she heard something swoop by overhead, an inhuman snarl, and her horse was torn out from under her.

  * * *

  It took a few moments for Krutch’s situation to sink in beyond the simple, I’m screwed.

  He ran blindly into the fog, muttering under his breath, “What the hell am I doing? I’m not even supposed to be here! This is so stupid!” Unable to see far and not paying close attention to where he was going anyway, he turned a corner and slammed into a tall person wearing some kind of black robe.

  After crashing to the ground, he looked up and saw the woman who apparently was the start of all this. The woman Rasul Kader hired him to kidnap and Lily sought to rescue: Rien, or her actual name, Katrina Lamont.

  He saw her standing stiff, as if frozen, staring at him wide-eyed and pale. It occurred to him she looked like she was going to be sick. He looked around and noted Kader and several other odd looking people standing around her—presumably the people that hired Kader. And, worst of all, the numerous orcs and gargoyles lurking in the shadows of the towers and ruins, waiting to pounce.

  It occurred to him then, strangely enough, that if his and Lily’s mission was to save Katrina from being taken, they arrived just in time.

  Yay us!

  All eyes were focused on him, and he saw Katrina take advantage of this distraction by running off as fast as she could. Daredin shouted, “Forget Leeroy! Get the Princess!” and all at once, the demons sprang out and gave chase.

  Krutch felt relieved he was not the primary target. However, that was replaced by uncertainty when he realized the woman he was apparently helping Lily rescue just ran away on her own and he was doing nothing.

  In a swift motion he was very proud off—especially considering he just tumbled down a swamp hill and slid around sludge water—he sprang to his feet and drew his pistol. He turned toward Daredin and took aim. Were he a more clever man, he might have said something witty or threatening. Instead, he simply opened fire.

  Unfortunately, Daredin recognized what was pointing at him as a weapon. He managed to dodge the gunshot, and the stone wall behind him exploded into shards of rock and dust. He waved his arms, chanting something to himself Krutch couldn’t hear, and suddenly disappeared in a swirl of black.

  “Nuts,” Krutch said.

  He looked over and saw Rasul Kader staring at him with an outraged expression. He smirked and thought, Well, can’t get the boss, I can at least take out the middle-man.

  Krutch was pleasantly surprised to find the look of fear that formed on Kader’s face when the gun was pointed toward him. Daredin might have been quick to dodge and could use his sorcery to teleport—but Kader stood frozen and looked like he was about to start pleading.

  The hammer was clicked back, but before Krutch could fire, he heard someone scream out and tackle him from behind. The gun slipped from his hand and slid across the ground. Someone heavy and wet pinned him down and started slamming his face into the concrete.

  “You bastard!” Lemmy Hobbs screamed. “You screwed this whole thing up! You got our boys killed! You got Arkady killed, you backstabbing piece of shit!”

  Hobbs dragged him to his feet and threw him through the air. He crashed down on his hip and banged his head, making his vision explode in confetti of black dots. Blood started to pour down the side of his face, and in his delirium, he mumbled, “You know ... you guys mutinied on me.”

  He was answered with a stiff kick to the face. Hobbs said something, but he didn’t hear it. The taste of blood filled his mouth as he tumbled back over his head. The ground was spinning all around him, and for a moment he thought he was imagining the rain falling on his face.

  Hobbs pulled him up by his collar. “I did everything for you!” he screamed. “You always held me down! You never appreciated me!”

  Krutch couldn’t be sure whether or not he was imagining it in his dazed state, but Hobbs’s voice sounded like it was quavering, like he was about to cry. His head swimming, and his right eye swelling shut, he moaned, “Would it help if I said I was sorry..?”

  Hobbs answered with a head-butt, making Krutch’s vision explode into static again. He was thrown back down to the ground, and his face skidded along the solid rock. Half unconscious, he started dragging himself along—although he had no idea where he was trying to go.

  Hobbs kicked him in his ribs and stomped on his back. “No more!” he shouted. “I’m done living in your shadow! And I’m gonna make you pay for what happened to our boys!” He drew a dirk from his belt and raised it over his head. “After today, I’ll be known as the man that killed Krutch Leeroy!”

  Krutch dragged himself along, barely feeling the blows Hobbs was raining down on him. He reached his hand out, looking to pull himself forward, when he felt something heavy and metallic in his hand. It was a familiar shape with a handle and a trigger.

  Hobbs was about to thrust his knife into the back of Krutch’s head, but whatever small, measly part of Krutch Leeroy that is a genuine and competent warrior moved first. Acting on instinct, he grasped his gun, turned over, and aimed the weapon straight at Hobbs’s heart.

  He pulled the trigger, and there was a burst of thunder, flash of light, and puff of smoke—followed by Lemmy Hobbs’s chest exploding. Blood burst out from his back, and Krutch’s mutinous “partner” flew backward. He crashed three feet away, twitched and gurgled for a moment, and went still.

  Krutch lay on the ground, letting the rain drench his throbbing face, but looking over, he saw one of Daredin’s cultists standing over him with a smile on his face. He attempted to fire at the grinning man, but the gun was kicked from his hand, and he was too exhausted and dazed to try and escape.

  “Looks like I’ll be the one to kill the great Krutch Leeroy,” was the last thing he heard before darkness overwhelmed him.

  * * *

  Katrina was still close to the ruins when her horse was torn away from her. She flipped through the air and landed on the harsh concrete ground on her back and skidded across the rock. Stabbing pain shot through her body, and she lay there, feeling the cold rain on her face, and felt like the world was rocking, as if she was on a boat.

  She heard her horse screech in fear and pain—followed by the sickening sound of meat being torn and blood splattering. Over this was the cackling and snarling of gargoyles enjoying their kill.

  Katrina ignored the pain in her back crawling up to her neck. She got to her feet, and spared only a brief glance at what was left of h
er horse being ripped apart by creatures with black and gray skin.

  The gargoyles weren’t the only monsters tearing the animal apart. They were joined by orcs—tall, thick creatures, only human in their general shape, but otherwise malformed and hideous looking. What hair some of them had was thin and ragged. Their noses were upturned and skeletal, with beady eyes of red, yellow, and black. Their teeth were rotten and gray, glistening with venomous pus.

  It had been a long time since Katrina was in the presence of orcs—and the reunion brought with it unpleasant flashes of her early years. The preferred, elite hordes of Armand Tyrell—a constant threat and danger that haunted her homeland like a blight. She’d been left with scars—physical and emotional—in her past dealings with orcs.

  You can’t escape this, Katrina, that voice taunted her again. This was always meant to be.

  She shook her head and looked around her. On the road leading away from the ruins, Edmund Rictor stood like an impassive sentinel. All around, Daredin’s disciples started emerging from the fog like nightmarish ghouls.

  With nowhere else to go, she turned and ran back into the ruins. She was hurting and unarmed, limping as fast as she could down the narrow alleyway. She felt like she was trapped in a maze. Everything looked the same—an endless line of ruined structures, dilapidated towers, and stone corridors.

  The entire area was shrouded in fog. If there were any landmarks or ways to recognize where she was, she didn’t see it. She cursed herself for being led so easily into this trap. She was exactly where they wanted her to be.

  The howls and roars of demons echoed all around her, followed every so often by the sound of thunder. The rain had turned torrential, and deep in Katrina’s soul, the sinking bitterness of despair started to wrap around her heart.

  You won’t get far, Katrina, no matter where you go.

  This was true, and she knew it. Not on foot—not with so many on her tail. She was too far from any civilization. Perhaps this was the appropriate ending to her life? To die as she had lived—a pawn of destiny, merely because she had the misfortune of being born in a bloodline that made her a Princess?

  Even if it wasn’t raining, Katrina would’ve been drenched with sweat. Her stomach churned, her legs felt weak, and her back was throbbing. Her head felt light, and she wasn’t sure if it was the fall from her horse or panic setting in.

  Just let it end, Katrina. Accept your destiny. This is what you were meant for. To usher in a new Dark Age. She knew the voice wasn’t her own, but she hadn’t the energy to even manage a token resistance.

  She dove into one of the ruined towers. The smell of dust and rot filled the air, not so different from the tomb Katrina hid in with Lily days before. She frantically looked around, hoping for a passageway leading to underground sewers or something hidden she could move through—anything that might allow her to escape unseen.

  All stairs led up, so with no choice, she climbed. She had a vague hope the upper levels would allow a means to slip from building to building, but even that was weak and withered.

  Panic was taking hold. The world was spinning all around her. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she couldn’t catch her breath, no matter how hard she tried. The air felt decayed and rotten—the stench of death she knew all too well. The howls of demons seemed even louder inside the tower. She was back in Vigor all over again. She clasped the sides of her head and squeezed.

  “Stop it,” she moaned. “Please, stop it ...”

  “There’s no use in hiding, Katrina.” This time, it was Daredin’s voice—coming from nowhere. “It will only be a moment’s pain and then death. Would that be so bad?”

  Would it..?

  “I can set you free,” he continued. “Free from the pain of your loss. Free from the bitterness. Oh yes, Katrina—destiny can be a most cruel thing. Why resist it? Come now, quietly. It will be quick.”

  Katrina felt her strength melt away from her body. The world continued to spin and sway. Would it be so bad to just accept this? Was her life really worth living anymore? All she did was wander the land with no place to call home, trying to drink herself into oblivion and drown out the memories and nightmares.

  “You didn’t have the strength to end your life.”

  She remembered her first attempt at taking her own life—just after the Red Plague had consumed her home. She couldn’t bring herself to do it then—maybe she needed someone else to do it for her? Is that not what she’d been looking for all along, anyway? A way out.

  “Come now, Katrina,” said Daredin, emerging from the shadows behind her, flanked by the grinning Hawke woman. She heard demons scratching at the walls outside. She was surrounded and cornered. There was no escape. “Make this easier on yourself.”

  “Yes, Katrina,” said Kader, appearing in the doorway. “This needn’t be difficult.”

  They both approached her, and she felt the last of her strength fade away. She was propped against the nearby wall, her eyes vacant and filling with tears. Is this what it was all leading to? Was this her easy way out? To just let them take her and use her for whatever destiny or prophecy they devised for her?

  One final failure and it would all be over.

  Kader stepped forward, his hand stretched. He was reaching for her shoulder, when her face contorted into a look of rage. Before he could pull away, she lashed out, clawing at his face with her nails. Kader stumbled backwards, clutching his bleeding face.

  Katrina looked around the small chamber, blood dripping from her trembling hand. She glared at Daredin and snarled, “Fuck you!”

  She turned and charged at the nearest window. She saw only gray skies and white fog before diving out. She closed her eyes and let the cold wind fly past her, waiting for the inevitable, sudden stop. A moment’s pain and it would all be over—but she would not allow herself to be a pawn.

  Distantly above her, she heard Daredin scream out, “Catch her! Don’t let her fall!” followed by the anguished howls of demons diving after her.

  Her fall lasted five seconds, and in those few moments, much of her life did indeed flash before her eyes. There was pain and loss and anger. There were crushed hopes and lost loves. She was not even thirty years old, and she’d known a lifetime of regret and heartbreak. Perhaps this was a welcome end after all, she wondered.

  Her only fear was seeing the faces of those she lost on the other side. To see their disapproving looks, judging her and condemning her. But maybe she would be lucky and there would be no afterlife? Maybe there really was nothing waiting for her? After all, if destiny was a cruel joke, why should the notion of something waiting on the other side of death be any different?

  Nothing but darkness and silence. Would that be so bad? It might actually be a relief.

  The wind rushed by Katrina Lamont. She kept her eyes closed and waited.

  There was a sudden stop—then darkness.

  * * *

  Carlyle Hawke had served Jacob Daredin for many years with his twin sister. Although they were not as knowledgeable or powerful in sorcery and black magic as their leader, the Hawke twins were well adept in the dark powers. Loyal to their master to a fault, both were especially vain and cruel people who took special pride in their looks.

  Daredin taught them much in sorcery, and they both focused their talents in a particular area—Lenora being able to enter people’s minds and exploit their fears, and he becoming versed in, what he called, Demon Wrangling. He could summon demons of various size and power—though he found gargoyles to be the most effective in doing his bidding.

  When Katrina Lamont made her desperate flight from the ruins, Rictor and Lenora gave chase along with the majority of Daredin’s disciples and orcs. Carlyle lingered behind and upon seeing the pirate, Krutch Leeroy, attempt to murder his leader, a great fury arose in his heart. He was ready to strike the insolent fool dead himself—until another pirate jumped into the fray.

  He watched with great amusement as the two men fought each other. It appeared the
bigger one would kill Leeroy—but he was saved by his mysterious weapon that shot fire and sounded of thunder. Carlyle was impressed to see the pirate’s chest explode in a great spray of blood and his body fly through the air. He considered, after killing Leeroy himself, he might take the weapon for himself.

  He approached the downed Leeroy and kicked the weapon from his hand. “Looks like I’ll be the one to kill the great Krutch Leeroy,” he said with an eager grin. The little man at his feet passed out, and Carlyle drew his sword.

  He was about to thrust it down into his face, when he was tackled from the side. They tumbled to the ground, and he shoved off the young woman that jumped onto him. She was a young, pretty thing with ash-gray hair and burning crimson eyes. She sprang to her feet and drew a pair of daggers from her boots.

  He stared at this new intruder and smirked. “And who might you be, child? Another pirate..?”

  She said nothing and charged. Although he was not inexperienced with the sword, Carlyle was forced to draw back and play defense, as it became apparent his opponent was more adept at physical combat. She pressed forward with continuous, fluid motion, swiping and slashing with her daggers, and he barely managed to block the attacks with his sword.

  Before he knew it, he was pinned against the wall of a nearby building. He blocked the incoming daggers and was stunned. Despite her size, she was able to keep him pinned in place. Aside from her unusual strength, he was also struck by the cold fury in her eyes. There was something very strange about this girl—though what, he couldn’t be sure. He sensed only emptiness in her.

  Using all his strength, he forced her away and ran down the nearby pathways, hoping to form a plan or lure her into a trap. He ducked and ran up and down the narrow streets, thinking he’d lost her, when she appeared from the fog and kicked him to the ground.

  Indignant fury flashed across his face, but he snuffed it with a smirk. “You’ve some skill, child,” he said. “And you’re much stronger than you appear. But you’re hopelessly outclassed.”

  He sheathed his sword and stretched his arms out. Grimacing, his eyes began to glow, and what appeared to be green flames formed around his hands. He pressed his palms together, like he was praying, looked at her, and grinned.