Nathaniel Grey and the Obsidian Crown

by Farrell Keeling

  Nathaniel hated to admit it to himself but this Lycan made him feel oddly at ease.

  ‘I believe I had you down for Herbalism on the Wednesday Nathaniel, although, I must admit, I had hoped I wouldn’t see you so soon,’ the woman tutted at him.

  It wasn’t his fault that Gabe had decided to knock him unconscious. The stupid brute.

  ‘I understand you received quite the Lycan welcome,’ Sister Mire said, dipping her fingers into a silver pot lying on the table beside him. An awful smelling white paste, which reeked of eggs and sour milk, came out of it.

  ‘If you call being punched a welcome,’ Nathaniel said bitterly, eyeing the paste on the woman’s fingers with a degree of apprehension.

  ‘Now hold still,’ the woman cupped Nathaniel’s chin in her hands as she angled her pasted fingers towards his black eye.

  Nathaniel whimpered softly as the paste was rubbed onto his swollen eyelid. He should have batted the Lycan’s hand away but he was rather fearful of what Mire might do, if he acted upon the inclination.

  Athrana’s grace, it smells terrible!

  ‘Do you remember Samir coming to visit you?’ the nurse inquired.

  ‘The Scorched boy?’ Nathaniel said.

  The woman made a sharp tsk through her pursed lips and gave him a look that brought a rush of heat to his cheeks.

  ‘I think he’d prefer, Samir, but yes, the Scorched boy,’ the woman said. ‘He didn’t do much else than read but at least he was less of a nuisance than that girl.’

  Nathaniel felt his whole face go as red as the boy on the bed in front of him.

  ‘A– a girl?’ Nathaniel asked tightly. Brey?

  ‘Oh yes, quite a pretty little thing,’ the woman said. ‘If not a tad infuriating,’ Mire added, with a dismayed shake of the head.

  Definitely Brey.

  ‘She kept trying to poke you awake. I had half a mind to drag her out by her pigtails and give her a reason to stay the night, would it not give me more trouble to deal with.’

  Mire snapped her head suddenly, mid tirade, to the arch leading out of the hospital wing and fell silent.

  ‘Well it seems you’re very popular, Regal,’ she said tightly, ‘I could send him away if you’re not up to it?’

  Him? Gabe? Whoever it was, the woman seemed eager for him to be gone.

  ‘No, that’s fine,’ Nathaniel eased himself up against the frame of the bed, slowly under the woman’s watchful eyes.

  She nodded tartly to whoever stood outside.

  ‘I won’t be far, if you should have need of me,’ she promised, before whisking off to the blonde boy’s bedside.

  A strong part of Nathaniel hoped it was Gabe, so he could teach the Lycan a lesson. His one working eye and aching muscles, however, protested at the thought.

  Nonetheless, the man who walked toward him was certainly no Lycan.

  Where Mire’s slippers cracked against the Medical Wing’s flagstones, his boots made barely a whisper. Not even the man’s overcoat rustled, every movement was clean and controlled. A green pendant, which Nathaniel hadn’t noticed before, glowed above his chest. Silver eyes, that had seen more blood spilt than Nathaniel hoped to ever see, glistened.

  ‘Greetings Nathaniel,’ the Hunter said.

  The man had a heart-shaped face lined with dark stubble. He was handsome, perhaps he would have been too pretty were it not for the puckered scar cleaving his face diagonally in two. Raven locks fell in a shower above his bare chest, exposed between the opening of his overcoat, revealing a chilling litany of scars, bruises and burns.

  His voice was gentler than Nathaniel expected, though not enough to ease him from the bed frame his back was plastered to. He may have been smaller than the bald Hunter who had rescued him at the Spire but there was little doubt about which of the two frightened him more.

  ‘When Sist–’ Nathaniel checked his words, so close he had been to speaking like one of the Lycans. ‘–Mire, spoke of a visitor, I did not expect to see… you.’

  ‘And few wish to,’ the Hunter replied crisply.

  Nathaniel wished the Hunter would take the seat beside him, it was awfully uncomfortable having the man leering over him.

  ‘I understand you agreed with Thorne to stay a day, to think things through?’ the man said.

  And look where that day has got me already.

  ‘That’s true,’ Nathaniel said, shifting about in his bed. But how much had Thorne told him?

  ‘Have you decided whether you’re ready to face your kind?’

  Nathaniel grimaced. Apparently, he’d been told everything.

  ‘If I keep running, maybe I won’t have to,’ Nathaniel said.

  ‘Kusk isn’t one to leave loose ends,’ the Hunter said.

  What business is it of yours, Hunter? Nathaniel thought. He would have asked Mire to throw the silver-eyed man out, had he been anyone else but a quietly terrifying demon killer.

  Nathaniel looked the man in the eyes, determined not to flinch away. The eyes were definitely the worst part. The Hunter could have been thinking of a dozen dastardly things and Nathaniel wouldn’t have had half an idea until a sword had been buried in his chest.

  ‘Why are you here? Did you come all this way just to tell me how doomed I am?’

  A strangled gasp left Nathaniel’s lips for the dagger, which had suddenly materialised into the Hunter’s gloved hand. So quick it had appeared that Nathaniel wasn’t quite sure where it had come from.

  The Hunter planted it next to the pot of horrible smelling paste on the table beside Nathaniel as casually as if he were slipping a note. It had a wide guard and had clearly been well looked after, although some of the scratches on the blade’s surface were beyond the help of any polish.

  ‘I came to offer you something on top of what you’ve already been promised,’ the Hunter’s silver eyes bored into his own. Were they challenging him?

  Nathaniel’s eyes flickered back and forth between the dagger and Sister Mire, who somehow remained completely oblivious of it.

  ‘What’s that for?’ Nathaniel said hesitantly.

  ‘You fought well against the Lycan but there was truth in what the boy said. He told you there was more to a fight than the sword itself. There’s more to it than that – more even than the hands and body that wield it, more than the breath in your chest and the blood pounding in your ears. It’s more than a touch, more than a feeling, and even more then. I can help you realise that. Whatever you decide to afterwards, will be entirely on your shoulders but at least you may survive just a little longer.’

  ‘You want… to train me?’

  ‘If you wish to find me, Regal, I’ll be in the practice room,’ the Hunter announced, straightening his overcoat. ‘Keep the dagger. Or at least hide it.’

  The Hunter padded away, as silently as he’d entered.

  Nathaniel’s eye leapt to the dagger he’d left behind. What was he to do?

  He snatched the dagger and stowed it underneath his blanket, just as Sister Mire turned, subsequently jumping in total startlement to find Nathaniel’s bed bereft of his silver-eyed visitor.

  Her eyes darted to the Regal worriedly.

  Nathaniel clutched the dagger close to his heart and offered a weak smile.

  Chapter 16

  Illumina remembered her home well. So, naturally, it alarmed her that she failed to recognise the dark little chamber in which she found herself hanging, like a hunk of salted meat that had been left to dry.

  Got to get out.

  She wrestled against the chains, biting her tongue as the shackles dug further into the broken skin of her wrists.

  No use.

  She thrashed about suddenly against her bonds, screaming silently into the ceiling.

  At least Nathaniel was in the wind, if the not-so hushed talk between the guardsmen outside her cell was to be believed.

  Still, she wished more than a thrashing upon the man with the pointed beard, who had tossed her aside with little more than a glance an
d a flutter of his fingers. Shadow wielder indeed. He would see how well his shadows protected him from a knife between the ribs, and even worse, if Nathaniel had been harmed…

  A latch was lifted on the chamber’s door. With a grating noise, as wood scraped on stone, it opened.

  Flanked by two Royal Guardsmen in black and gold, Draeden Kusk marched into her chamber. With a few curt words, his personal guard bowed and departed, closing the heavy oak door behind them. Pacing the length of the chamber, Kusk watched her silently, squinting his blue eyes at her, as if trying to gauge the reality of what they saw.

  ‘It’s been a long time, Illumina,’ he said finally.

  ‘Likewise, little brother,’ Illumina replied tersely.

  She rattled her shackles.

  ‘Care to release me?’

  A ghost of a smile flickered across her brother’s face, before it was surreptitiously quashed.

  ‘I see you managed to not only slip into the city undetected, but also free our Emperor’s murderer right under our very noses,’ Kusk said, pacing the length of the room. Each prolonged step made the room appear larger than it was.

  ‘I suppose I should be glad that you have brought the frailty of our outer defences to my attention.’

  ‘Did the fact that you killed Jael come to your attention also?’ Illumina retorted.

  ‘Our little murderer has sought refuge with the Lycans, to make matters worse,’ Kusk continued undeterred, his grimace deepening.

  ‘No Royal Guardsmen in here, Draeden, why don’t you just admit what you did.’

  The Szar turned. His cold, blue eyes boring into hers.

  ‘Whatever I have done, I did it for the good of the Empire,’ he said coldly.

  The knife withdrawn from his belt looked all the more crueller in his hands. It seemed keen to bite into flesh, still drunk off the aftertaste of blood that had washed its wielder’s hands over the years.

  ‘Don’t do this, brother,’ Illumina pleaded, as Kusk slowly crossed the space between them.

  ‘I do this for the Empire… my sister.’

  There was a hint of sadness in Kusk’s eyes, betraying the conviction in his voice. ‘Make it easier for yourself and tell me where the Lycans hide,’ he pleaded with her.

  ‘Draeden… please.’

  Kusk’s head fell against his chest briefly as he sighed.

  ‘Forgive me, Illumina.’

  Illumina’s eyes widened as the blade dug greedily into her side, engorging itself on her blood.

  A cry came deep from the very depths of her stomach, scratching and grating against the doors of the room. Hairs stood on end, as it reached the guardsmen, and hands lowered to the familiarity of their swords. Calloused fingers tightening against their grips.

  Chapter 17

  In the deafening silence, Nathaniel’s blood pounded an unsteady drumbeat in his ears. He tightened his grip on the dagger in one hand and held the wooden longsword across his body.

  Lunging to the left, the wooden sword narrowly striking nothing but air.

  Then a dagger cut an arc behind Nathaniel’s shoulder.

  The blade was left unappeased.

  A sharp clicking noise, like metal on stone, penetrated the drumming of his ears.

  Nathaniel spun around, sword raised.

  A cry of triumph quickly tapered off into a startled ‘gah!’ as he tripped, then tumbled, onto the practice room’s floor.

  ‘Pick up the weapons, Regal,’ the Hunter – Zaine – instructed him, for the umpteenth time.

  ‘Was that you?’ Nathaniel said, certain he couldn’t have ‘tripped’ again.

  ‘Your hands are still empty,’ the Hunter ignored the question.

  Muttering in annoyance to himself, Nathaniel patted the ground around him hands grasping the wooden handle first but coming up short of the dagger.

  Where has the damn thing gone?

  ‘You get to take that blindfold off when you land a hit on me,’ Zaine said.

  Nathaniel withdrew his hand with a scowl.

  ‘What is the use is this? I can’t even see what I’m fighting.’

  Nathaniel jumped as something smacked against his boot.

  ‘Again!’ Zaine said sharply.

  Nathaniel picked up the dagger carefully and held it out before him. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take of this ridiculous fumbling in the dark. He had half a mind to just throw the dagger blindly at the Hunter and hope for the best.

  ‘When, Gods forbid it, will I ever have to fight blind?’

  ‘Over here,’ Zaine said, somewhere behind him.

  CRACK

  The dagger clattered off the wall harmlessly.

  ‘Why are you forcing me to do this, Hunter?’

  ‘I force you to do nothing other than what we had agreed upon,’ Zaine replied.

  ‘But how am I learning to better my wielding of a sword? I will not fight the Szar with my eyes closed,’ Nathaniel said.

  ‘Blind or no, the Szar would dispatch you just as easily,’ Zaine said flatly, ‘watch your footing!’

  Something knocked against Nathaniel’s thigh, almost upending him once again.

  Nathaniel uttered an exasperated growl, yet another blind swipe returned fruitless.

  ‘You are impatient, Regal,’ Zaine said. ‘If you wish a fight be done quickly, you may as well hand your opponent your own sword than allow them to sully their blade.’

  Nathaniel almost wished someone would strike him down where he stood.

  ‘Blindfold suits you, Regal,’ a familiar voice sniggered.

  Nathaniel ripped off the cloth around his eyes, blushing furiously at the curly haired boy, grinning as he leant against the archway.

  ‘What do you want?’ Nathaniel said.

  ‘I was going to apologise for the black eye but I – woahh… where did you get that from?’ Gabe pointed at the dagger Nathaniel clutched in his hand.

  ‘What’s it to you?’ Nathaniel said.

  The Hunter was already standing between them before Nathaniel had taken as much as a step towards Gabe.

  ‘You’re welcome to watch us train, Lycan, but if you insist on playing the fool, I will ask you to leave,’ Zaine said.

  Nathaniel was about to protest. However, the idea of Gabe being dragged out by the scruff of his neck was a possibility too good to give up.

  Gabe stepped up to the Hunter, staring resolutely into his silver eyes. ‘They say you Hunters are the fiercest fighters in Horizon,’ he whispered.

  ‘So they say,’ Zaine replied blandly.

  ‘Skew says you’re a demon.’

  Zaine’s face remained expressionless but Nathaniel thought he saw the Hunter’s hands tighten, ever so slightly, on the hilt of his practice sword.

  Nonchalantly, Gabe stepped over to the baskets beyond Zaine and pulled out two short-swords. He twirled them in his hands as he faced the Hunter.

  ‘Let’s see what you’re made of, Hunter,’ Gabe said.

  Nathaniel barked out a laugh. ‘You’re not serious are you?’ he asked incredulously.

  Gabe smirked in reply.

  ‘Eager to fight demons are we, Lycan?’ Zaine remarked with a raised eyebrow.

  ‘Hoping for a slight challenge, for once,’ Gabe replied, sending a pointed look Nathaniel’s way.

  ‘If that is your wish,’ Zaine said, although there appeared to be a subtle warning hidden in his words. ‘Nathaniel, would you mind?’

  Nathaniel shook his head, eager to see what would happen.

  Gabe frowned, as the Hunter leant his sword against the wall, and he waved his own pair at him questioningly.

  ‘No need, Lycan,’ Zaine said simply.

  It was not a boast.

  When it became clear that the Hunter would not be the first to approach, Gabe lunged toward his opponent, swords swinging.

  As soon as the blades fell, Zaine was already long gone, sidestepping out the way as calmly as one on a midday stroll. The Hunter may as well have been carrying a basket
of fruit.

  ‘Lucky,’ Gabe merely shrugged and flung himself into another charge.

  Again, the Hunter dropped a shoulder and spun out of the way. No matter how tight the space or how narrowly Gabe’s blades appeared to flash by, Zaine somehow always found room effortlessly.

  The large Lycan boy seemed delighted at first, laughing off each failed attempt, before quickly launching another. But, as beads of sweat began to form across his brow and each breath became more laboured, Gabe’s enthusiasm began to wear. The assaults became gradually more frantic, more desperate. Nathaniel winced as he saw the Lycan leave his chest increasingly open with each heavy-handed swing.

  Suddenly, Zaine disappeared behind him. The Hunter’s long coat and raven hair swirled so fast, he appeared to move, not as a man, but a mass of shadows.

  ‘Wha–’ Gabe looked at his hand in surprise, as the first sword clattered against the back wall.

  The large Lycan turned and swung blindly at the space the Hunter had formerly occupied. By the time his arm had completed its arc, both his hands were empty.

  ‘What in the blazes?’ Gabe opened and clenched his fists, as if to make sure his swords hadn’t suddenly turned invisible.

  ‘You take risks, Lycan, I respect that,’ Zaine spoke. ‘But one too many could easily get you killed.’

  The Hunter stood against the wall, his arms crossed loosely under his chest. Gabe made a start when he saw his swords stashed between the Hunter’s legs. His jaw swinging, as he looked between Zaine and his hands.

  No matter how many times he witnessed the Hunter’s capabilities, Nathaniel still found himself shaking his head in disbelief. Where Gabe’s chest heaved and glistened with sweat, it was as if Zaine had been observing from the wall all along. There was not even a hair out of place to mark his exertions.

  ‘That’s impossible!’ Gabe said, thrusting a finger in the Hunter’s direction. ‘You must have cheated.’

  The Hunter’s brow raised in what looked like a rare show of amusement.

  ‘We could go again, if you feel so strongly about the matter?’ Zaine suggested.

  Gabe’s eyes danced between the Hunter and the swords he’d been relinquished of, as he considered the offer.