by Ben Cassidy
“Stop!” The gendarme with the lantern yelled. He waved his sword uselessly.
The second gendarme reloaded the carbine, surrounded by a wreath of gun smoke.
Joseph collapsed back in the stern of the boat with a grunt. He felt the hard shape of an oar underneath him. “Here,” he gasped at Maklavir. “Oars. Get us downstream.”
“Covered with more dirt, I suppose,” Maklavir grumbled. He took the oar all the same, and began paddling off one side of the boat.
Joseph looked up over the side of the boat.
The shore was rapidly disappearing. Shouts and whistles were sounding off in the darkness, and the shadows of running men and horses could be seen. The current was swift, however, and already they were fast heading downstream.
“You’d better grab the other side,” Maklavir said coolly, “or we’ll end up going in circles. I can’t see a blessed thing out here. There could be a waterfall ahead, for all I know.”
“There are no waterfalls in Vorten, you twit,” Joseph said. He tenderly felt the back of his shoulder, and flexed his hand.
The wound stung and hurt something fierce, but it didn’t hurt enough to be a serious wound. Joseph could move his arm and hand well enough, .He guessed that the musket ball had skated across his back and shoulder, tearing flesh and clothing but not actually lodging. Kendril would no doubt have dismissed it as a mere flesh wound.
Flesh wound or not, it hurt like blazes.
But what hurt even more was Kara’s reaction. She sat placidly in her seat, staring off into the darkness and muttering something over and over, just softly enough that Joseph couldn’t make it out. She showed no concern for Joseph, no real awareness of her surroundings or what was happening.
She was still lost. Still essentially dead.
Joseph gritted his teeth against the pain and lifted the second oar. He pushed it down into the water and paddled for all he was worth.
Behind him came another flash and the report of gunfire, followed by a nearby splash.
Joseph ducked lower. He dug the oar into the water.
He was going to get Kara out of here. He was going to get her free of all this madness
And then he was going to find some way to bring back the woman he loved.
Joseph awoke with a start. He straightened, then immediately wished he hadn’t. His shoulder and back throbbed with pain, his body was sore and ached from cramps and cold. He tossed the old oar off himself and sat up in the boat.
The vessel was beached amongst some floating ice and reeds. A muddy bank was just a few feet away. It led up towards a forest, dark and menacing. The sky was gray and covered with clouds.
It was day, then. The night was over.
Joseph turned his head gingerly, trying not to strain his wounded shoulder.
Kara was asleep in the bow of the boat. Maklavir’s cape covered her like a blanket.
“I don’t suppose you thought to bring any eggs or bacon with you?” Maklavir asked dryly. He sat on the other side of the boat, his arms crossed against the cold. “I’m starved.”
Joseph grimaced. He picked up the sword from the bottom of the boat. “What time is it? How long was I out?”
Maklavir removed a pocket watch from his vest with a dramatic flourish, and stared meaningfully at the shattered face. “It would appear to be the same time it was when my very expensive watch was broken last night.” He tucked the watch away with a sigh. “As for how long you were asleep, I really can’t say. We’ve been drifting all night.”
Joseph glanced up the bank towards the forest. “How long have we been in the reeds?”
Maklavir shrugged. “Five, ten minutes? Does it matter?”
“It matters,” Joseph said slowly, “because Potemkin’s gendarmes are going to be scouring the river for us.” He looked over at Kara, who was still sleeping peacefully. “How’s she doing?”
Maklavir picked up his own sword. “You can see as well as I can. She fell asleep after you.” He looked up at the red-haired woman for a moment, a shadow falling over his face. “She almost looks…normal, doesn’t’ she?”
Joseph swallowed. He looked back in the direction of the forest. There didn’t seem to be any road or path in sight. There had to be some kind of habitation close by, though. A village, or even an isolated farm house.
Maklavir weighed the gendarme sword unenthusiastically in his hand. “Not much of a replacement.” He looked up at Joseph. “Do you have any idea how much my sword cost? You know, the one that is still back at the Sanitarium?”
Joseph tucked his own stolen sword into his belt. “What does it matter to you? You never used the old thing anyways.”
Maklavir lifted his head. “It’s the principle.”
“We need to get moving,” Joseph said, abruptly changing the subject. “Find somewhere to lie low for a bit.”
“Yes, well I guess we’re fugitives now,” said Maklavir sourly. “Lucky us. For a brief moment I thought I might actually have the chance to start a new life in Vorten. How silly.”
Joseph gave Maklavir a sharp glance. “I gave you the choice at the Sanitarium. You could have stayed behind. Maybe you should have.”
Maklavir gave a leaden sigh. He stared down at the bottom of the boat. “You’re not the only one who cares about Kara, you know. I couldn’t see her locked away any more than you could.”
Joseph thought he caught a strange inflection in Maklavir’s voice, something he hadn’t heard before. He looked hard at the diplomat, then finally glanced out at the river. “I’m sorry, Maklavir. What I said was uncalled for.”
Maklavir lifted his head and arched both eyebrows. “You’re apologizing to me? Well, it looks like the Joseph I used to know isn’t gone for good yet, then.” He looked over at the sleeping girl. “It all seems rather pointless, doesn’t it? She’s not herself. It’s like she’s in a waking dream all the time, here and yet not here.”
Joseph bit his lip. He stretched his shoulder carefully, grunting at the dull pain.
Maklavir glanced over in surprise. “Great Eru, old chap, you’re hurt. I hadn’t noticed. Nothing bad, I hope?”
Joseph shook his head. “No. Just a flesh wound.”
“Sounds like something Kendril would say.”
Joseph tried to smile, but couldn’t. “Maklavir,” he started to say, “what Kara was saying last night….”
The diplomat shook his head sadly. “Nonsense. Just like Grelda said—”
Joseph leaned forward, keeping his voice low. “It wasn’t nonsense. Think about it. Everything she said…” he glanced over at the girl, as if expecting her to wake any second, “everything she said happened.”
Maklavir cocked his head. “Come again?”
“The ladder of green. The swan in ice. The riders in the night. The white stones.” Joseph scratched his beard. “It’s like she knew.”
“That’s impossible,” Maklavir said quickly. “There’s no way she could have known. She didn’t even know we were going to take her out of there—”
“And yet she was dressed and ready to leave before we entered the room,” Joseph said.
Maklavir’s mouth dropped open. He looked over at the beautiful redhead again. “You’re not suggesting—I mean, you’re not seriously saying that Kara—?”
“I don’t know,” Joseph said, and he meant it. He took off his battered hat and ran a hand though his dirty blonde hair. “But I admit, it gives me the chills.” He put his hat back on, huddling against the cold in his grimy greatcoat. “I think she’s able to see things which haven’t happened yet.”
Maklavir frowned. “How, exactly?”
Joseph shrugged. “I don’t know. They didn’t exactly cover this in seminary.” He stole a glance at Kara’s sleeping form again. “I think it might have something to do with the shards of the Soulbinder that are still inside her.”
Maklavir gave a low whistle. He thought for a moment, then looked sharply at Joseph. “She was saying something the first time we saw h
er, right after she came out of the coma. Something about fangs and fire—”
Joseph nodded somberly. “We thought it was just babbling. It might actually be…well, a kind of prophecy.” He searched for the word. “An oracle.”
Maklavir scratched the side of his neck and shook his head. “I don’t know, Joseph. It’s awfully farfetched, isn’t it?”
Joseph stepped out of the rowboat into the ice-cold water. He exhaled sharply at the sudden shock. “Farfetched or not, after what happened last night I think we should take it seriously.” He grabbed the boat and pulled it up against the shore.
Maklavir looked dourly up at the forest. “We’re not staying in the boat?”
Joseph shook his head as he climbed up onto the bank. “This is where we get out. I’ll push the boat off. Hopefully it will throw off the gendarmes, but we can’t stay on the river, especially in the daylight. It’s too exposed.”
Maklavir gave a glum nod. “I suppose.” He turned back towards Kara.
The red-headed girl was sitting up in the boat. She stared at nothing, her eyes dreamy and her expression strange. “Fangs in the east, shadow in the south.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
Maklavir pushed back his cap. The wilting feather barely bounced. “It still sounds like nonsense to me, Joseph.”
Joseph looked back at the dark woods. He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. “Maybe. We can debate it later. For now let’s get moving.”
The two of them helped Kara out of the boat. The delirious girl didn’t resist, but didn’t interact with them either.
As soon as they were on the bank, Joseph kicked the rowboat back out into the current.
The boat bobbed on the ripples of water, and tumbled slowly downstream until it was out of sight.
“Hopefully we can find a farmhouse or barn nearby,” Joseph said as he climbed back up the bank. “Somewhere we can stay out of sight for awhile.”
“I suppose we’ll have to leave Valmingaard,” Maklavir said sadly. He shook his cape, then put it over Kara’s shoulders. “A pity. Even with everything that has happened, it has been good to finally be home again.”
Joseph put a hand on the diplomat’s shoulder.
“To find the key, to stop all three,” Kara murmured. She stared blankly off across the water. “Seek the raven lost in the sea.”
Maklavir shuddered. “Oracle or not, all this babbling of hers is unsettling to say the least. Fangs and fire? Ravens in the sea? It doesn’t make much sense at all.” He took Kara gently by the shoulders and led her up the bank.
“No,” Joseph agreed, “it doesn’t.” He followed them up the bank, scouting both sides of the river as he walked.
“I’d give anything to have her just look at us again,” Maklavir said.
Joseph didn’t answer. Some things hurt too much for him to say out loud. He moved up onto the top of the bank, and sniffed the wind.
“Not to be perpetually negative,” Maklavir said, “but we have no supplies whatsoever. Are we supposed to forage for nuts and berries?”
Joseph knelt down on the ground. He picked up a leaf and examined it.
Maklavir gave him a doubtful look. “I know you’re a master pathfinder, Joseph, but—”
Joseph plucked a piece of grass from the ground. He put it in his mouth, chewed on it a moment, then spat it out.
Maklavir stared at the man. “What in Zanthora are you doing?”
Joseph put a hand to the earth, closed his eyes for a moment, then stood abruptly. He pointed off to the right. “That way. A farm.”
Maklavir raised both his eyebrows. “You’ve got to be joking. You know there’s a farm in that direction by…eating grass?”
“No,” said Joseph easily. He pointed up in the sky. “By that smoke.”
Maklavir craned his neck around.
A thin trail of wood smoke rose into the early morning air, just above the nearby treeline.
When Maklavir looked back, Joseph was smiling.
“That’s not funny,” the diplomat said.
Joseph shrugged. “It was a little funny.” He clapped Maklavir on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s hope there’s a barn to go with that farmhouse.”
Maklavir smiled. “And some eggs, I hope.”
The farmhouse was a small one, adjacent to a dreary little collection of wheat fields. An old gray barn stood next to the main house. Fortunately, there was also a small, covered threshing floor on the other side of the nearest wheat field, near to the main barn but out of sight from the main house.
Joseph and Maklavir got the door open easily enough, and settled Kara down in one corner. Rats squeaked and skittered about in the gloom, their eyes glittering in the half-light. Dry wheat flax rustled under their feet.
“I doubt anyone will come out here,” Joseph said, glancing out the small wooden shutters of the threshing floor’s only window. “Not as long as we don’t make any noise.”
Maklavir folded his arms and sank miserably onto a pile of old lumber. “Perhaps because this is a dirty, dusty old hole in the ground that no one would enter unless they were forced to at gunpoint?”
Joseph closed the wooden shutter gently. “It’s not that bad. I grew up on a farm very similar to this, back in Calbraith. It has its own charm.”
“If by charm, you mean disease-ridden vermin, than I heartily agree.” Maklavir nodded at the darkness. “I’ve seen smaller dogs than the rats that are in here.”
Joseph rubbed his hands against the cold. He moved back towards the doors of the threshing floor. “Could be worse. They could be wolf-rats.”
“Well, someone certainly has his sense of humor back.” Maklavir rested his chin on his hand. “You seem oddly…happy. More than I’ve seen you in months.”
Joseph glanced out the threshing floor doors one last time, then closed them to a mere crack. “I suppose I am,” he admitted.
Maklavir grunted. “Why? If anything, our situation has actually gotten worse. Kara’s still lost to us, we’re being hunted as fugitives by Potemkin and his gendarmes, and now we’re stuck in a filthy hole in the ground in the middle of nowhere. And I’m starving. You’ll forgive me, old chap, but I don’t see much to be overly happy about.”
Joseph sighed. He pulled up an old bucket, turned it upside down and squatted on it. “I guess I feel hope for the first time in a long time.”
Maklavir gave a dark chuckle. “Hope? You have a strange sense of optimism, Joseph.” He looked sideways at Kara.
The girl was still staring off into space.
“Did we do the right thing?” Maklavir asked suddenly. His voice was low, almost a murmur. “She’s no better than she was in the coma. Maybe it would have been better if we…if we had—” He let the thought hang unfinished in the air.
Joseph stared at Kara too. He rubbed a thoughtful hand across his bearded face. “You said you took her to surgeons, right?”
Maklavir gave his friend a startled look. “Of course. The best I could find in Vorten. They all agreed. Taking out the remaining shards of the Soulbinder would likely kill her.”
“She’s dead already,” Joseph said quietly. He looked over at Maklavir. “At this point we have nothing to lose.”
Maklavir leaned forward. “Those shards are in deep, Joseph. Every surgeon I went to said the same thing. Trying to dig them out would be too dangerous. I couldn’t find a single one who would even attempt it.”
Joseph chewed on his lip. He stared down at the floor thoughtfully. “What if removing the shards…” he paused, hardly able to speak aloud what he was thinking, “what if removing them could heal Kara? Really heal her? Bring her back to normal?”
Maklavir peered intently at Joseph. “You think the shards are causing this weird dream state that she’s in?”
Joseph gave a slow nod. “I do.”
Maklavir took in a hissing breath through his teeth. “That’s a huge leap, Joseph. If you’re wrong—”
“Look at her, Maklavir,” Joseph said sharpl
y. He pointed to the insensate girl. “It’s like she’s sleepwalking. No eye contact, she can’t hear us or speak to us. There’s nothing of—” He felt himself begin to choke up, but swallowed the emotion down. “There’s nothing of Kara left. We have nothing to lose.”
Maklavir looked long and hard at Kara. “I told you already. None of the surgeons would risk performing an operation like that. Not here in Vorten, anyways. I sent messengers up to Varnost, before it was besieged. There was no better reply from the surgeons there as well, and some of them are the best in the country.”
“I know,” Joseph said.
“So what’s your plan?” Maklavir said.
Joseph looked over at his friend, his face pale but determined. “I’m going to find a surgeon. One who will perform the operation.”
Maklavir rubbed his forehead. “And how exactly are you going to do that, old boy?”
Joseph stared at Kara, a pale husk of the woman he remembered. “However I can,” he whispered.
Chapter 13
It didn’t seem fair, really. It wasn’t even a full moon.
The werewolf sprang forward, its slavering mouth open, eyes burning in the darkness. The claws on its hands were as long as daggers. It let out a fearsome roar that shook the walls of the cavern. The sound and the sight of such an abomination would have paralyzed nearly any ordinary man with terror.
Kendril wasn’t an ordinary man.
He leapt forward, swords swept up to attack, his heart beating fast and his body acting with a mind of its own.
What he was seeing was impossible. Werewolves were just legends and myths, not reality.
But Kendril had seen pagan gods clothed in human flesh, had seen the fire of the Void itself and had faced down earthly creatures that most people would be horrified to know even existed.
A man turning into a werewolf right before his eyes seemed somehow less astonishing.
Kendril yelled. He swiped both his swords at the beast in front of him.
The werewolf barreled forward like a fully-laden ox cart. The long claws gleamed in the dim light.
