Nathaniel Grey and the Obsidian Crown

by Farrell Keeling

  ‘You’re – you’re a skeleton!’ Nathaniel said.

  ‘SURPRISE!’ the skeleton cackled, splaying his hands out beside his skull and waving them rapidly to-and-fro.

  At a complete loss for words, Nathaniel could do little else but stare at the abomination that sat before him. Could his short stint in the cells have already fractured his grip on reality? Surely not? But how else could he explain what was happening? This couldn’t be real… it couldn’t.

  ‘WELL, I MUST SAY, YOU’RE TAKING THIS RATHER BETTER THAN YOUR GRANDFATHER DID, THE FIRST TIME WE CROSSED PATHS… OOF! WHOA BOY,’ the skeleton chuckled. ‘ALTHOUGH,’ the skeleton absently scratched at its chin, ‘NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT, I REALLY OUGHT TO PAY HIM A VISIT SOMETIME TOO.’

  ‘I’m sure he’d appreciate that,’ Nathaniel just managed to murmur sarcastically, ‘but he’s dead.’

  ‘THORNE GREY? OH NO, NO, NO, BOY. HE’S VERY MUCH ALIVE AND WELL. THE WHOLE BURNING ALIVE SCHEBANG DIDN’T EXACTLY PAN OUT.’

  ‘The whole what?’

  ‘YOU KNOW?’ the skeleton said, miming a large explosion.

  Nathaniel stared back at the skeleton in puzzlement.

  HMM. I HAVE BEEN TOLD I OVERSHARE.’ The skeleton fingered some of the crater like dents atop its skull, ‘I THINK I’M BEGINNING TO SEE WHY…’

  Nathaniel shook his head. ‘This cannot be real…’

  ‘IF I MAY INTERJECT?’ the skeleton said, raising its hand, ‘WOULD THIS BE A BAD TIME FOR INTRODUCTIONS?’

  Nathaniel, who had been staring at his feet and shaking his head in pure disbelief, looked up at the skeleton. ‘No, please, go right ahead. It’s not like this can get any stranger.’

  ‘I’M DEATH.’

  ‘De-?’ Nathaniel stuttered.

  ‘YES, YES. DEATH,’ the skeleton said, nodding happily.

  ‘THE GRIM REAPER,’ he added, making speech marks with his bony fingers. ‘THAT ONE.’

  Nathaniel stared back, wide eyed. Realising his mouth was agape, he closed it.

  ‘NOW,’ Death said, holding out three fingers. ‘YOU HAVE A GRAND TOTAL OF THREE POSSIBLE ALTERNATIVES AVAILABLE TO YOU…’

  Then his voice trailed off and he closed his hand, bones crackling. ‘ACTUALLY, NEVER MIND. I DON’T RECALL THOSE BEING OF MUCH HELP TO YOUR GRANDFATHER EITHER,’ he said, scratching his chin.

  ‘What, in Ozin’s name, do you want from me?’

  ‘WANT? BY MICTLANTECADES, IT’S TOO EARLY FOR COLLECTION! DEPENDING ON HOW THESE NEXT FEW HOURS GO…’

  ‘Collection? What? Do you mean–’

  Nathaniel’s eyes widened in horror and he slowly began to press himself into his corner of the cell.

  The sudden, barking laugh that escaped Death’s jaws did little to help Nathaniel’s galloping sense of terror, as he pulled hi knees up to his chest.

  ‘ONE SECOND!’ Death said, waving at Nathaniel apologetically, shaking his head and clutching his ribs with his other hand. ‘THE LOOK ON YOUR FACE!’

  ‘You mean you’re not going to–’

  ‘–COLLECT YOU? OH NO, I JUST SHOW UP WHEN – SHALL WE SAY – CERTAIN PEOPLE MAY BE ABOUT TO MAKE AN UNFORTUNATE ERROR OF JUDGEMENT. TAKE THIS GUY FOR EXAMPLE.’

  Death pulled out a large, battered piece of parchment from his robes, which, unless Nathaniel was imagining that too, glowed in Death’s bony hands.

  ‘LETS SEE… LET’S SEE… AHA! EXHIBIT A: NIALL RIORDAN, DROWNED IN HIS OWN BATHTUB. TALK ABOUT KILLER NAPS,’ Death chortled, then paused to look up from his parchment. ‘WHAT? TOO CREAM CHEESE? SOMETHING MORE CAVIAR PERHAPS? HOW ABOUT… THIS ONE: MAX ROUNDSTONE. OH DEAR, THIS IS A GOOD ONE. ON A DARE – DRUNKENLY, I SHOULD ADD – HE AGREED TO CLIMB THE SORCERORS’ SPIRE,’ Death snickered. ‘TERRIBLE DECISION.’

  ‘Erm.’

  ‘YOU WOULDN’T BELIEVE HOW FAR THIS GUY GOT. I’M NOT ASHAMED TO SAY I LOST A BET,’ Death ceded with a bobble of his skull, as he rolled up the parchment and tucked it back into his robes.

  ‘Death… If this is actually real, and you’re actually real… what did you mean about my Grandfather? My Grandparents have been dead for a long time, my father told me.’

  Death’s jaw clamped close with such a crack Nathaniel half-expected a tooth or two to come flying out. But instead, he just sat there quietly, burning eye sockets boring into his, purring within the gloom of the cell.

  ‘WELL… THIS WILL COME AS QUITE THE SHOCK THEN,’ Death said quietly, looking upwards.

  ‘What do you mea–’

  Before the question could fully leave Nathaniel’s lips, a deafening scraping sound above brought his attention back to the stairs beside him. Lighter feet pierced the moonlight that was cast down to his cell.

  ‘Solas?’ Nathaniel called hopefully.

  ‘Not quite,’ came the reply.

  The woman that descended the stairs was beautiful. Long blonde hair fell sleekly past her shoulders to the small of her back. She was clothed to travel, with dark leggings and knee length riding boots.

  Nathaniel felt a lump rising in his throat. Was it already time for the Stone?

  The woman brought the lantern up beside her face as she peered down at the chained Regal before her. The blue of her eyes bore down upon him with such intensity Nathaniel was reminded of the Szar’s sharp gaze. Yet, what edge they may have once had, appeared now dulled; though she did well to hide it.

  ‘So you’re the one that has the city all abuzz,’ she murmured, ‘Nathaniel Grey, the Kinslayer–’

  ‘I’m no Kinslayer!’ Nathaniel snapped, wincing as the shackles tugged against his limbs.

  He thought he saw the woman’s mouth beginning to twitch into a smile, but her face quickly composed itself back into the steady mask she wore upon arrival.

  ‘I hope not,’ she replied, reaching behind her belt. Something clicked, and her hand returned with a heavy looking set of keys. ‘Otherwise, I’m making an awful lot of effort to break out a murderer.’

  Breaking out? Had he heard that right? Nathaniel eyed the keys dangling beside the bars with suspicion.

  Draeden – the Szar – says you killed him. Slaughtered him and his bodyguard in cold blood.

  Nathaniel shook his head violently. ‘I can’t leave,’ he told the woman, ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Then how else do you propose to remedy this situation?’ she replied calmly.

  ‘I-I have to set things right, clear my name!’

  ‘Do you think you’ll be allowed to do that?’

  ‘The Elders will hear my case, they have to!’

  ‘Will they now? Should you even be given that chance, it will make for an interesting case when your own father speaks out against you.’

  ‘My father wouldn’t–’

  ‘–wouldn’t he?’

  Father said you would try to blame Draeden.

  His brother’s words still stung him now.

  ‘They… they have to believe me,’ he whispered, the all too brief conviction he had felt was quickly slipping away.

  I think the Szar has his mind set on the Stone for you.

  The sound of something clattering by Nathaniel’s feet caused the Regal to jolt where he sat.

  ‘Are you going to free yourself, child, or keep me waiting till they catch us both?’

  He stared at the keys for a moment, then, without a second thought, snatched them off the floor and set his hands to work.

  The shackles were difficult to release, being almost welded together with rust but fortunately came apart after a few earnest attempts, almost threatening to snap the key halfway through.

  When Nathaniel looked up, the door was already open and the woman halfway up the stairs, beckoning him to follow.

  ‘Who are you?’ he called after her, the cramp in his legs making it difficult to keep up the pace she was setting.

  ‘You can call me Illumina,’ she replied, just before slipping past the door.

  ‘But–’

  Nathaniel’s voice faltered as soon as the fresh air hit him.<
br />
  His breath turned to fog where he stood and though the breeze that whistled along the street was gentle, it bit through his soiled tunic like a knife through parchment.

  But he didn’t mind.

  He was more aware, at that moment, of the large shape looming above him against the mountain, casting the two Regals into a darker shade of dusk. In the distance he could just make out the flames of braziers, flickering against the midnight sky. It had not been that long ago since he himself had stood atop one of the balconies of the Emperor’s Palace, looking forward to seeing his bride unveiled…

  The snarl that left his lips had nothing to do with the cold.

  ‘Shall we proceed or do you wish to freeze to death instead?’ Illumina hissed from the darkness.

  You could leave her. Find the Szar and make him pay.

  ‘With what weapon? And past all the palace guards?’ he muttered to himself.

  The loss of the rapier’s weight by his side felt heavy, a sort of tangible lack of presence, like a finger stripped of its ring.

  Nathaniel forced himself to tear his eyes away from the palace and hurried up the narrow path beside the Regal woman.

  Outside, he was no less uneasy than he had been in his cell. In fact, he was struggling to decide whether he preferred his damp confinement to the silhouette set by the castle-like walls that suffocated the street.

  ‘You still haven’t told me why you’re helping me,’ he said.

  ‘One would think you would be grateful for your freedom,’ Illumina replied, taking a turn up a flight of stairs that seemed to materialise out of nowhere.

  She wove them through numerous streets and staircases, some even thinner than the last. There were a few diverging paths that Illumina paused to ponder over, but otherwise she seemed to know her way around the maze they found themselves in, virtually instinctively. Had he somehow escaped himself, Nathaniel knew he would have been horribly lost on his own.

  He watched the woman ahead of him cautiously. Who are you? He thought to himself.

  The woman carried an air of certainty about her, like that of the higher-borns Nathaniel had greeted at his wedding. She was of one of the great Houses of the Regal Empire, he was certain, or at least was once.

  But by Athrana’s grace, why then would she be helping him?

  He tried scrutinising her clothing for clues, as he followed her up another set of stairs that, this time, were winding up in a tight circle. However, there was little else beyond the grey pallor of her skin that discerned her as a Regal.

  Perhaps she is a commoner? No, it couldn’t be. If the Szar had his way, word of his ‘deeds’ would have spread like wildfire over the Black Mountains by now.

  Still, although it left his question largely unanswered, there were other things that appeared more pertinent.

  ‘I’ve not seen a single guard,’ Nathaniel realised, ‘where are they?’

  ‘There are none,’ Illumina replied, her level tone suggesting she was displeased with their pace, ‘at least, none for a while.’

  ‘How can that be?’ Nathaniel scoffed, ‘especially for what I di– what they think I did.’

  Gods, even I’m starting to believe I did it.

  ‘You’ve not been down to the cells before have you?’ Illumina remarked with a wry chuckle.

  Nathaniel hesitated a moment before offering a reply, ‘have you?’ he asked carefully.

  ‘As a prisoner you mean?’

  A nervous laugh escaped Nathaniel’s lips, ‘ermmm…’

  ‘No, I have not.’

  Relief washed over Nathaniel, as they took yet another turn up a path, which appeared to angle up against the mountain side. Perhaps he had imagined it, but he thought he could make out lights in the distance.

  Their route moulded itself into steps once more and still no guards halted their escape.

  This felt easy, too easy.

  ‘There should be guards,’ Nathaniel insisted, ‘these cells are right under the palace!’

  Illumina remained silent this time, although at every corner they came to, one of her hands would suddenly snap to the daggers at her belt. It appeared that she too had become troubled by their completely unopposed escape.

  No guards for a while she had told Nathaniel. Did that mean they were supposed to have bumped into a few by now?

  ‘We’re almost there,’ Illumina said, pointing out a white gate ahead and, beyond it, a dozen or so lights flickering in the distance.

  They were so close.

  BANG!

  The gate was suddenly blown off its hinges, bouncing not once but twice before its crumpled form skidded to a halt before them.

  Nathaniel was not quite sure what he had thought he’d seen, or even whether he should believe it. However, it seemed as if a gigantic shadowy fist had crashed against the metal.

  Dogs barked in the distance and little lights flickered on around them, as a man climbed through the now open gateway. Red trimmed robes flapped about his boots as he strode determinedly towards the two of them. Nathaniel gasped in recognition.

  Illumina jumped ahead of Nathaniel, dagger bared.

  ‘You’re blocking my way, human,’ Illumina growled.

  Still the man in the red-trimmed robes advanced.

  The dagger flew from Illumina’s outstretched hand, but as the blade spun towards its mark, a shadowy mist sprung from the man’s hand and the dagger dropped lamely to the ground.

  ‘That racket will have attracted half the city guards,’ the man said. ‘Give the boy to me and you’ll still have time to escape, Regal.’

  ‘That’s not going to happen.’

  Just as Illumina reached for another of her daggers, a wave of shadow crashed into her side, lifting the Regal off her feet before she could even begin to retaliate. Even the cry that escaped her lips was short-lived, as her body collided against the wall with a CRACK that made Nathaniel cringe.

  She didn’t get up afterwards.

  ‘Illumina!’

  More shadows came, this time coiling around Nathaniel’s arms and legs, pinning him where he stood. The more he struggled, the more the shadows bit into his skin. He could barely move his head to get a better look at Illumina where she lay.

  Gods, she’s not moving…

  ‘What have you done?’ he yelled at his approaching assailant.

  ‘The woman will live, Regal,’ the man replied dryly.

  ‘You! This is all your fault!’ Nathaniel yelled at the man, ‘I heard what you told my father! I know this was your plan! And you weren’t even there when they did it!

  There was something about the man’s look that made Nathaniel cold to his core. Unimaginable horrors cried out in silence, veiled by silent lips, but squirming against his eyes as they fought to be free of the cage the man had conjured for them.

  ‘Is that so?’ the man said, ‘you could have easily avoided witnessing the death of your Emperor. You could have been wedded before your people even found Tolken’s body. Yet, your interference has ultimately proved a masterstroke of a fate.’

  ‘What in Ozin’s name are you talking about?’

  The sound of raised voices attracted the man’s attention back to the crumpled gate behind him.

  ‘It appears fate would not have us tarry,’ the man muttered under his breath.

  He grasped Nathaniel’s shoulders firmly.

  ‘Say farewell to your home, Nathaniel Grey.’

  ‘What? Wait–’

  A film of black began to fall over Nathaniel’s eyes, obscuring his sight, just as the first guardsman began to step over the remains of the white gate. He raised a lance and Nathaniel thought he heard something shouted at them, but the guard’s voice was dulled, the words elongating and twisting out of shape.

  The ground beneath Nathaniel shook and then caved in, and the Regal was falling.

  If he screamed, he could not hear it.

  He could feel nothing.

  See nothing.

  The darkness swallowed h
im whole.

  Chapter 9

  It took a moment for Nathaniel to fully register the fact he was still alive, as he was busy being violently sick. By the time his stomach had emptied enough for him to raise his own head, the man with the red-trimmed robes was already sinking into the shadows encircling his legs.

  ‘Hey!’ Nathaniel cried, lunging towards his kidnapper, tripping and tumbling over himself. By the time his side had smacked into the ground, the man was already gone.

  Nathaniel howled and smacked his fist into the ground.

  That man… he too had played a part in the Emperor’s murder. It was he who had pushed his father into it all.

  Yet here he was, alive.

  Nathaniel swallowed hard upon recalling the crunching sound Illumina’s body had made as she was tossed against the wall. He hoped the man hadn’t been lying when he’d said she was alive.

  But why was he here, especially when the Szar wanted him sentenced to the Stone? Nathaniel glanced around his surroundings, wondering wherever here actually was…

  At first the paving blocks underneath, so similar to those in Obsidia, had made Nathaniel question whether he’d even left home. Nonetheless, as his eyes turned skyward, that thought was quickly banished.

  A circular courtyard framed by red-leafed oaks, rustling in the wind like a ruffled paper bag, surrounded him. To his back lay a paved path large enough for two carts to wheel through side by side.

  There was a fountain that stood in the midst of it all, seemingly large enough to wade in. A stone figure had been erected in the middle, brought to one knee by some unseen great weight across its shoulders. Its palms were upturned above, as if to support this load, water arcing from within each hand either side back into the bowl of the fountain.

  But this feature was made to be dwarfed by the behemoth lying in wait just beyond it.

  With its round base spanning the entire courtyard and pointed tip, the tower had the appearance of a giant stake piercing the clouds above.

  ‘–not listening to me. I did it!’

  Ozin’s beard! Nathaniel thought desperately, not now!

  ‘Bore off,’ came the other voice, closer than the last. ‘I’ve seen you struggle to light a candle. There’s no way you’ve mastered air.’