Pale Kings (Emaneska Series)

by Ben Galley

  ‘Let me guess, you were the second,’ assumed Farden. Lerel nodded.

  ‘I can’t remember my parents, what happened to them, where I’m from, and I don’t even know who sold me to the slavers. My first memory is being shackled to the slave train and marched across the dunes to a place called Athkalah. You must’ve been there, you’ve seen what it’s like?’

  Farden had, and he did. ‘Well, then you know it’s not the most desirable place for a slave girl to find herself. Needless to say I was sold off to a rich nobleman who owned a few taverns in the centre of the city, and he had me clean the rooms and the kitchens, serve the drinks and the wine and whatever else the men needed.

  ‘So this one day it’s business as usual and a man walks in, drunk on wine and other things, and starts trying to drag one of the girls up to the rooms. He’s a big man, almost handsome-looking, but cruel and vicious. He liked the younger girls, see, the ones that were barely women at all, for his bed. This girl was new to the house and she was one of our youngest. She hadn’t seen her first blood yet, never mind bedded a man, and so naturally she tried to resist him. She screamed and yelled but slave girls are bound to their master, and ours owed this man a lot of money. Unluckily for us he paid it off with girls and wine. So, for the next month, every day of the week, this man comes in and takes one of the young girls upstairs. You don’t have to be a genius to work out that he wasn’t gentle with them. Half the girls that came back downstairs were cut, bruised, and beaten. One of them could barely walk afterwards. And of course nobody wants girls in their taverns with bruises and split lips, so some were sold on for half their price, while the others were whipped for getting beaten, and sent to work in the other taverns, where the men cared less for appearance.

  ‘So eventually, this man came in one day, drunker than usual, and points at me. He drags me upstairs to his room, nearly breaking my wrist in the process, and locks the door behind us. I took every punch, every slap, everything he had to give me I took without a sound, and when he had nothing else to give he fell asleep, naked and tired, so I took a curtain rod and beat his skull in. I did it for all the other girls who had screamed and cried, for the younger ones and for myself, and then I ran away. A murderous slave girl is worth nothing except stoning, and I wasn’t about to stick around for that.

  ‘Somehow I escaped to Halios and managed to make a life on the streets by stealing from the rich men in the markets. After a while I got pretty good at it. I was quick on my feet, fast-handed, and I had a strange knack for knowing what people were hiding. It didn’t take me long to realise I had the nomad magick in me. I could see what people had in their pockets just by brushing past them. One day I even touched a locked door and it opened by itself. Tyrfing and I have asked each other the same question many times and we still don’t know how I learnt to do it. Maybe my parents were sorcerers and passed it down to me. Who knows?’

  Farden was entranced by her story. ‘Is that how you met my uncle?’ he asked. Lerel smiled and shook her head.

  ‘I knew from what he was carrying in his pockets I shouldn’t have tried to pickpocket him but I did, and he caught me by the wrist halfway into his pockets. He was so quick and strong, I’ve never seen anyone move that fast. I knew there was something about him by the way he looked at me as I hung there by my arm, wriggling like a scorpion. Then he dropped me and left me there on my backside, dumbfounded. For some reason I decided to follow him into the desert and that’s when I saw him change into a faun. When he found me hiding in his kitchen, I thought he was going to feed me to the gryphon, but he couldn’t have been kinder. Of course, being Tyrfing, he had known all along that I was following him, and he had led me all the way to the caves and Ilios. He let me stick around and learn from him, gave me a place to live and food to eat. He taught me to read and to write, he showed me his drawings and his histories, taught me how to hold a sword, all the things a slave girl isn’t allowed, and showed me a hundred things I didn’t think were possible,’ said Lerel, spinning her story around the mage’s ears. Farden nodded slowly. He found it interesting how pragmatic and rational she seemed despite her tumultuous upbringings. Perhaps it had been his uncle’s influence. ‘He rescued you, then,’ he said. The words sounded odd out loud. A week ago he couldn’t have imagined his uncle saving himself, let alone anyone else. Yet here they were, two people standing on a balcony, both had been saved by Tyrfing.

  Lerel shrugged once more. ‘Maybe he did. Desert gods know where I’d be now if I hadn’t followed him,’ she said, and then turned to face Farden. She looked him in the eyes with a curious gaze. There was still a bit of cat inside her somewhere, Farden decided, and he told her so.

  She laughed at that and looked at her very human hands. ‘Hah, I hope not. It feels so good to be back in my own body again.’

  Farden crossed his arms and put his back to the railing. ‘See this is where I get confused. Why a cat? Why you? And why didn’t you speak to me when we first met?’

  ‘Something in the spell went wrong. I’m not sure what. Being in the mind of a cat is, well, strange to say the least. By the time I remembered my own voice you had already left. And anyway, your life was eventful enough at that point without a talking cat.’

  ‘As for the why your uncle chose me,’ she shrugged, ‘I’ve spent many a night wondering the same thing. Paraians have a saying: “when it rains apples, don’t question it, just shut up and eat them.” Whatever his was, there had to be a reason for him taking me in, and I wasn’t about to say no. Maybe it was something he saw in me, maybe you were right and he wanted to help an orphan girl from the streets. Either way he taught me all about Vice and the Arka, the nefalim and the history of the world. He told me all about you,’ here she flashed him another one of her looks, ‘and I said I wanted to help. He refused at first, but the more he thought about it the more it made sense. Seeing as he couldn’t leave the desert, he decided to send me instead. We spent months trying to turn me into different things but only one shape seemed to fit, and that happened to be a cat. I wanted to be a desert eagle but it never seemed to work, so we went for the next best thing. It was unbearable at first, the pain was excruciating, but I managed. My nomad magick, what little I have, helped me along. Apparently shapeshifting is never an exact science. It’s incredible, the things you mages can do. We have nothing like that in Paraia. All we have are tricks and trinkets, strange foods, and stranger people,’ said Lerel, looking upwards and the rippling surface of Farden’s shield spell. The invisible bubble was getting hotter by the minute. Every hailstone and raindrop that fell against it sizzled briefly before disappearing as a tendril of steam, whisked away into the cold night.

  Farden tilted his head from side to side. ‘No, you have magick, it’s just a different sort, and Tyrfing is one of a kind,’ he said, and then scratched his head. ‘The thing that confuses me is why shapeshift you at all? You must have been used to lying low and staying out of sight.’

  ‘Oh I was, and still am. I guess that’s probably why a cat fitted me the most. But it wasn’t up to Tyrfing, no, Ilios was the one who suggested sneaking on board the Sarunn. That gryphon has been behind this plan all along, not Tyrfing, and usually he’s pretty accurate. Ask him.’

  ‘He knew the exact ship?’ asked Farden. She nodded. ‘The Sarunn stopped at the port of Troacles just long enough for me to sneak onboard. Once I was there, it was easy pretending to be the ship’s lucky cat. The gryphon was right, and everything went to plan. That is of course, until I met you.’

  Farden raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh yes?’

  Lerel prodded his chest. ‘Yes, mage. You were supposed to take me back to Albion so I could deliver Durnus’s message, and then afterwards I would find a way back to Tyrfing once this mess with Vice was over and done with. Unfortunately, you sank the ship and then you left me here. Luckily, you redeemed yourself by bringing your vampyre friend to Nelska instead. Retrieving Tyrfing as well was a complete bonus. I had expected to stay as a cat for a while yet.’


  ‘So, what is this all-important message?’

  Lerel suddenly turned quiet again and looked out to the howling darkness. ‘That is for Durnus, not for anyone else.’

  Farden narrowed his eyes, confused, and slightly irked. ‘Surely you can tell me?’ he insisted, but she shook her head.

  ‘You least of all, Farden. I’m sorry.’

  His curiosity was not happy at that. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘I’ll just ask Tyrfing myself in the morning.’

  ‘He’ll tell you the same thing,’ she replied, and then, quite unexpectedly she put a hand on his chest. ‘I know you like to be in control, but this time you’re going to have to trust your uncle. And Ilios, while you’re at it.’

  Farden sighed. Another rock of common sense was all he needed. But she was right, as usual, and he let the matter go for now. ‘Well, I better be getting to sleep. We have a lot to discuss in the morning, and apparently I have a world to save, again.’

  Lerel cocked her head to one side. ‘The lone wolf. Your uncle was right about you.’

  The mage made a confused face, and thought of the last time someone had called him that. It had been Cheska, that rainy night before he had left for Albion. He hid that memory away and smiled politely in reply. Together they went back inside and he locked the door. Farden rubbed his hand to get rid of the tingly numbness the spell had left while Lerel folded her coat over a nearby chair. ‘I never thanked you for saving my life when the ship went down.’

  Farden looked confused. ‘I don’t remember…’

  ‘I thought as much. You held on to me so tight, kept me warm in the cold sea,’ she said quietly. Before she left she kissed him once on the cheek and chuckled to herself.

  ‘What?’ Farden asked, before she closed the door.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said, with another coy smile. ‘I think I’m going to miss sleeping on your bed.’ And after that she closed the door, leaving Farden to stand in the middle of his bedroom to ponder her words.

  That night, while the palace of Hjaussfen slept reasonably peacefully, a pair of bare feet tiptoed across a cold granite floor. They hopped from doorway to doorway, wary of guards and bright torches, until they found the door they were looking for. After quiet hands had turned the doorknob and lifted the latch, the bare feet crept onwards until they came to a rest at the side of a large bed, where a mage slept deeply and dreamt even deeper.

  Elessi stood in the shadows clothed only by her nightdress, barefoot and silent. Inside her chest her heart was beating double-time, and as Farden rolled over in his sleep, her heart leapt into her throat. Finally satisfied that he was fast asleep she bent down beside the bed and leant close to the mage’s face, careful not to press on his pillow and wake him. As gently as she could, and for as long as she dared, she placed a kiss on his forehead. Before she left she whispered quietly in his ear. ‘I’m glad your back,’ she breathed. Farden slept on completely unawares, dreaming blurry dreams that would be forgotten by the morning, dreams of a midnight visitor in his room whispering strange things, of cat’s claws, of ghosts and ghostly books, of his mother, and other things that only a Written would dream. At least, for now, they were peaceful enough, and unbeknownst to him, far below in the deeper places of the mountain, a gryphon was sharing the same dreams.

  The pair of bare feet made good their escape and scurried back to their room, to be shrouded in blankets themselves and to fall asleep, listening to nothing but the thrumming of rain upon the windows and the whining of the Long Winter winds.

  …But the god had heard her shouts, and for the first time in a hundred years, Heimdall left his post at the side of his rainbow bridge and climbed up through the darkness to find the other gods. The void below him whispered and sniggered, alive with the sound of feet and claws. The god cast a look back to the jewel-like speck of Emaneska far, far below. It glittered like the stars around them. He shook his head, and kept climbing.

  At long last he came to the gates of their great hall, the mighty Hasgard, and whispered to the guards crouching behind the battlements, stones of impenetrable black rock floating in the ghostly, dusty darkness, Wings fluttered in the shadows. Cogs began to turn, giant cogs and chains, twisting as the spells forced them open. Stones slid apart. Dust floated into the space between space.

  Once he had told his story, the gods and goddesses sat in a dark and pensive silence. The Ageless, Allfather of them all, sat in his oaken throne and rubbed his wrinkled face. Two ghostly ravens sat on either side of him. ‘You bring us dire news, Heimdall. What then, shall be our path?’ he rumbled.

  A tall and slender goddess sat beside him. She drummed her nails on her knee. Golden scales sat at the foot of her marble chair. ‘They will prevail. He will set the world on an even keel, in the end.’ Whispers rustled. Feet tapped the floor. Some heads nodded. Others shook. One, younger than the rest and yet confident, spoke up. ‘You and your mage. I’ve watched him. He will only help himself.’ Some murmured in agreement.

  The goddess shook her head vehemently. ‘If I were you, Light-bringer, I’d hold my tongue. Never has your skin felt the wind of that world, or your feet scuffed the earth. I’ll take my advice from those who have.’

  ‘Enough,’ boomed another, a figure of stone and moss, with eyes like an owl. ‘There is no time to waste with arguing.’

  Yet another spoke, a red-skinned man with a shield strapped to his back. His voice was like the rustling of leaves. Next to him sat a gaunt woman with alabaster skin, holding a staff from which a lantern dangled. She nodded. ‘Time is short. I too have duties to attend.’

  ‘Our brother and sister are right.’ The Allfather sighed. ‘The prayers are scant. Humanity is losing faith. We shall have to pool our strength if we are to move ahead. If we are to act it should be now.’

  ‘A verdict, then?’ called another.

  ‘Trust the mage.’

  ‘I do not.’

  ‘Silence,’ called Heimdall, and the others fell quiet one by one. The god ran a hand through his beard. ‘I’ve watched our children for more years than I care to remember. I’ve seen more of them than I care to recall. That child will be the end of us, I see that plainly, and my apologies, sister, but I doubt your mage, and his feelings. The fate of our world and theirs cannot rest of his shoulders.’ Beside him, the young god smiled.

  ‘What then?’

  ‘What path?’

  ‘Another then? What of the third?’

  ‘He is no better than the mage. We cannot trust a nefalim.’

  The goddess rapped her knuckles on the arm of her chair. ‘Send me then. And another, if you wish. I will show him and the others the way.’

  The Allfather nodded. ‘Very well. If we are in agreement, we shall descend into their midst. Though beware, your time there will be short, and your skin empty. Our prayers are not what they once were. You will be as helpless as shadows. Who will go with our sister?’

  A clawed hand rose above the rest, tethered by a strong and muscled arm. In the darkness behind the god’s stool wings lay folded. ‘I shall go.’

  ‘Then so it shall be. Bring the mage to heel, remind him of the stone as you once tried, and if he cannot help us, then find another.’

  ‘He will help us.’

  ‘It remains to be seen.’

  ‘There will be a war nonetheless.’

  ‘Unavoidable.’

  ‘Incite those in the city. They will rise up. Otherwise the dragons will fail.’

  ‘Many will die.’

  ‘So it shall be. They will survive. As will we.’

  ‘The stone is for the pale ones and the child.’

  ‘Leave that to the third.’

  ‘That child is the only objective.’

  ‘The mage will not do it. I have seen another who might.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The mage’s uncle.’

  ‘Vice’s first? Can we trust him?’

  ‘The gryphon does. He has helped so far.’

  ‘I doubt he
could find the courage.’

  ‘Are we in agreement then, brothers and sisters? Shall we gather our prayers?’

  A hundred feet stamped in unison in the halls between the stars…

  Chapter 11

  “It always rains in Albion. Never have I had the displeasure of visiting such a damp and sodden country. The rivers and streams run with such ferocity that upon my travels I was often frightfully concerned for the lives of myself and my trusty travelling cow Bettly. The trees bear no fruit except for moss and drips, and the roads are nothing but muddy ditches. Now I understand why the people of Albion fashion such wonderfully waterproof hats and cloaks.”

  ‘Travels in Emaneska’ by the Wandering Wallium

  ‘Ready?’ called Durnus through the mage’s bedroom door. He impatiently rapped his knuckles on the door for the fifth time. ‘Farden?’

  ‘Yes!’ came the reply, muffled as it was through the wood. ‘I’m coming!’ No sooner had the mage spoken than he appeared at the door, dark hair ruffled and sleepy-eyed to match. Durnus rolled his eyes.

  ‘You look refreshed,’ said the vampyre, drily.

  ‘I think he looks handsome,’ smiled Elessi.

  ‘You would,’ muttered the vampyre.

  ‘I don’t,’ smirked Eyrum, standing against the wall near the corridor, arms crossed and looking smart in a fresh formal tunic and big boots. His dark curly hair had been washed and combed.

  ‘Shut up,’ replied the mage. His voice was still croaky from sleep. ‘All of you.’ Farden adjusted his grey shirt and tucked it into his trousers. He adjusted the thick leather belt around his waist, ran a hasty hand through his hair to make it look acceptable, and then grabbed a leather cloak from the hook by the door. ‘Right, let’s go,’ he said.