Nathaniel Grey and the Obsidian Crown

by Farrell Keeling

  The third, seemingly unaware of the events transpiring around her, hummed away merrily, as if she had not a care in the world. Long, dirty blonde hair fell just above her waist and upturned eyebrows gave her eyes a dreamy quality.

  Nathaniel frowned at their robes. A dark blue, which could pass for black in the shade, but a different colour to those worn by the hooded three in the tavern, he was certain. Perhaps they had merely changed their clothes?

  ‘How else can you explain this?’ the one called Davina pointed at Nathaniel. Her boot nudged something heavy onto its back. It was Samir.

  Athrana’s grace… had they–

  The humming Regal made a strangled sort of coughing noise from the back of her throat.

  ‘Oh, calm yourself, Kailena – the dog will live,’ Davina said.

  Nathaniel sighed in relief.

  The humming assassin looked up at the ceiling, as if purposefully ignoring Davina’s words.

  ‘We’ll probably need a Warlock for this,’ Davina said, nodding towards Nathaniel’s bed.

  ‘Oh yes, why don’t we just hop on a cart all the way back to Dalmarra and fetch one?’ the older Regal snapped back. ‘Stupid girl!’

  ‘I said probably,’ Nathaniel heard Davina mutter sourly under her breath.

  The older Regal tapped her bottom lip thoughtfully, as her eyes scrutinised the space which separated them from Nathaniel.

  ‘Uhhh,’ Nathaniel began uncertainly, ‘you realise I can hear you… right?’

  Davina continued twirling the dagger she had extracted from the floor, as if she hadn’t heard him. The youngest of the Regals, the humming blonde – who Nathaniel wagered was his own age – continued with her tune, whilst the oldest assassin shot him a glance that should have nailed him against the headboard.

  ‘I wonder…’ the snowy-haired assassin mused.

  BANG!

  A flash of silver blurred from the older Regal’s outstretched hand. Nathaniel let out a startled cry as the air where the blade had struck welted into an angry green glow around him, like a translucent cocoon. The knife clattered to the floor.

  The green glow faded, leaving the end of Nathaniel’s bed as it had been before.

  What had just happened? Had he done that? No, he couldn’t have. Putting aside the fact that Thorne had asked him not to use Majik, he would have surely felt its warmth surging through him had he meant to deflect the knife.

  Davina’s raised eyebrow had more than a hint of smugness about it. ‘I already tried that,’ Davina said.

  ‘Oh, hush girl!’ the older Regal replied irritably. ‘This is no ordinary shield. No Warlock these days could come up with something this powerful on their own. Why, I’d go as far as saying you’d need a – BOY! Where did you get that?’ the eldest Regal pointed at the rod lying on Nathaniel’s bedside table.

  Although positive she couldn’t get anywhere near it, Nathaniel snatched the rod from the table with a blush. He hadn’t stolen it from Thorne, but who would believe that it had just appeared in his saddlebags?

  ‘So, you can hear me then?’ Nathaniel said.

  ‘From whom did you pilfer that rod, boy?’ the older Regal demanded, her eyes suddenly flaring.

  Nathaniel felt angry for the flush in his cheeks. Who are they – and assassins no less – to make demands of me?

  ‘I didn’t steal it!’ Nathaniel said adamantly, certain that that had been the implication. ‘And I didn’t kill the Emperor!’ he added with a growl.

  Kailena stared at Nathanial, dreamy eyes giving him a searching look. ‘That’s not what your father says,’ she said softly.

  ‘Why are we wasting time talking, Lucerne?’ Davina caught her dagger in mid-air and rolled her eyes impatiently. ‘We have a job to do,’ she jabbed the dagger in Nathaniel’s direction.

  ‘You would do well to watch your tone, girl!’ Lucerne said sharply. Her eyes had still not left the rod Nathaniel clutched tightly against his chest. Why is everyone so obsessed with this useless lump of iron, he wondered incredulously. Thinking back to the greedy look in Marlo’s eyes when he’d spotted it.

  Lucerne crouched beside his bed close to where the green welt in the air had appeared, narrowing her eyes. ‘I don’t know how you’re managing this, boy but know this: nothing has ever stopped the Sisters from completing their task. Hide behind this shield for as long as you wish but you won’t–’

  CRASH!

  The three assassins whirled round, Lucerne and Davina with daggers at the ready. The door was snapped off its hinges, as Zaine burst through into a crouch, sword held diagonally across his body.

  Lucerne lowered her dagger slowly, whilst Davina kept her own raised, almost choking as she spat, ‘demonspawn.’

  ‘Zaine,’ Lucerne gave the Hunter a curt nod.

  ‘Lucerne,’ Zaine said, straightening up, his face set in stone. ‘Clever of you to drag me away with a Blissgiver sighting. How long must you have had to carry that old corpse around Horizon, I dread to think.’

  Davina muttered something under her breath that sounded like, ‘not as clever as you think, demon.’

  ‘So,’ Lucerne replied through almost pursed lips. ‘What ever will we do now?’

  ‘Leaving would be a strong start,’ Zaine suggested.

  ‘Give me the boy and it’ll be an even quicker finish,’ Lucerne countered.

  ‘I’m afraid that won’t be happening.’

  ‘You think it smart making yourself another target for the Emperor?’

  ‘His Grace and I are already at odds, this will hardly change matters.’

  ‘And what of the rest of your kind? Will they take well to being associated with this error of judgement? And all that it entails?’

  ‘Don’t make idle threats, Lucerne. Especially not ones you can’t enforce.’

  ‘Then we are at an impasse.’

  ‘It would seem that way.’

  The older Regal thumbed her lip thoughtfully. ‘Sisters!’ her voice cracked suddenly like a whip. ‘With me!’

  ‘What!’ Davina shrieked. ‘That’s it? We’re just letting him go?’ she shot a dirty look in Nathaniel’s direction.

  The red-faced look Lucerne gave the Sister suggested she was close to having her ears boxed.

  ‘Girl… you will follow me of your own will,’ she began slowly. ‘Or I will drag you out by your curls. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Yes… Sister,’ Davina bent her head like a chided dog, as she followed the older Sister out of Nathaniel’s room.

  Once Kailena had also departed, Lucerne ran her hawk-like eyes between Nathaniel and Zaine. ‘This isn’t over,’ she promised.

  ‘I would be almost disappointed if it were,’ Zaine replied dryly.

  Lucerne pursed her lips so tightly, it looked like she’d swallowed a handful of lemons. After a final angry glare at Nathaniel, she turned and slipped out after her fellow Sisters.

  Nathaniel jumped out of his bed and crouched beside Samir’s unconscious form. ‘Samir, hey, Samir!’ Nathaniel patted a muscular shoulder. The boy did not stir.

  What if that Sister - Davina, he remembered - had been lying? What if they’d really killed Samir? A cold feeling filled the pit of his stomach. The Sisters of the Dagger had been after him but, Lycan or no, Samir had tried to defend them both. Nathaniel swallowed hard. This was his fault.

  Zaine stuck his boot against Samir’s side. The Scorched boy coughed and spluttered, and his eyes finally blinked open.

  ‘Urgh,’ Samir groaned. He held a hand gingerly to the back of his head. ‘What… what happened?’

  ‘We’ve had visitors,’ Zaine said.

  ‘The Regal assassins? I… I woke when they came, I tried to stop them but…’

  ‘Get dressed,’ Zaine said briskly. ‘We need to leave. Now.’

  The Hunter stalked off without another word. Nathaniel hoped he wouldn’t leave them alone for long.

  ‘Sisters of the Dagger…’ Samir’s deep voice hummed towards the empty doorway.

/>   Nathaniel could hardly believe it himself.

  The Sisters of the Dagger, all three of them!

  Nathaniel had listened to many a tale about the Sisters, back in Obsidia. His father even used to scare him and Solas into going to bed on time with the famous trio – ‘watch out boys! The Sisters are creeping up the wall, they’re creeping through your windows, they’re–’ That had sent them both up like a shot. Lucerne sounded vaguely familiar from the stories but the other two, Davina and Kailena, were new to him. How he was still alive, however, seemed a feat beyond luck’s reach.

  You tried to save me, Nathaniel gave the Scorched boy a grateful look. ‘Thank you,’ he told him.

  The Scorched boy looked embarrassed and craned his neck around the room, as if in search of a book to hide himself behind.

  *

  ‘It is barely dawn… be reasonable,’ the man said with barely restrained irritableness. Though, he held out his hand expectantly before him, eying the pouch strung around the Hunter’s belt.

  ‘I won’t ask again, innkeeper.’

  A few of the men sat on the benches behind Marlo, were suspiciously well armed. The table was bare of any food or tankards and the men watched keenly, as they fingered the swords at their belts.

  Zaine was apparently in no mood to bargain, however, for he threw down his hood to the audible gasps of all those sitting on the tavern’s benches.Those who hadn’t returned to their seats bolted, after one look at Zaine’s silver eyes.The innkeeper uttered a high-pitched squeak and withdrew his hand as quickly as if it had fallen in a viper pit.

  ‘You will have our horses ready in the next five minutes,’ Zaine said commandingly. He did not touch his sword, nor, indeed, did he make a single move towards the man. Though, the threat was as evident in his quiet voice, as if he’d held his ruby pommel sword to the man’s quivering throat. ‘Move quickly, innkeeper.’

  After blinking rapidly like he’d been slapped, the innkeeper suddenly jolted into life and began barking orders at the few terrified stragglers on the benches behind him.

  ‘So, those three we saw yesterday were the assassins after all,’ Vaera said as they departed The Prancer. She had looked torn between disappointment and curiosity that Nathaniel had survived their visit utterly unscathed. His curly locks frizzy and in such disarray, almost as though he had been struck by lightning, Gabe looked half-asleep. His bed had to be upturned before he would join them.

  ‘Five more minutes wouldn’t have killed any of you,’ he had grumbled. Nathaniel would have found Kaira’s scolding of the Lycan highly amusing, had an attempt not just been made on his life.

  With the Hunter nearby, it was possible that the Sisters wouldn’t think of returning for a second attempt immediately, of course. Still, Nathaniel hardly wished to test the matter by lingering for too long.

  Brey had been silent, ever since they had appeared at the three girls’ room. She wore the same worried expression he’d seen in the Lycan Sanctuary, after he’d met Vaera for the first time. He cleared his throat awkwardly and made it look as if he were tightening his saddlebags on Bela. He almost wished the girl would go back to being upset with him.

  Under a pale blue sky, bleeding amber, the sun wavered lazily over Greymound’s dusty streets, as if it too had been roused far too early from its slumber.

  ‘Where to now?’ Nathaniel turned to Zaine once he had mounted Bela.

  ‘Morne,’ came the reply.

  *

  Strung in shadows, three cloaked in black watched the seven riders chase the dawn.

  ‘Do we follow, Seeker?’ one of the cloaked spoke.

  The Seeker considered this for a moment.

  ‘No,’ she decided, after the last horse tail had whipped around the corner of houses. ‘We will return to Is Dręmăra.’ she could not hide the bitter disappointment in her voice. She had thought – hoped, she conceded – that the child might be the one, but the boy’s eyes had not borne the sign.

  ‘What a pity, Seeker.’ drawled the other voice, belonging to Isen. He was practically gleeful.

  No doubt Isen greatly anticipated her returning bare-handed to the Sun Court. The wretch would stop at nothing to wring her out to dry and take her place. The Seeker scowled underneath her hood at the thought. She had fought off other challengers like him before, to get to where she was now and she would continue to do so until her last drawn breath.

  Chapter 26

  The open spaces of Greymound, where sunlight had shined freely over the dust and scrub, were gone. Shadow was in ascendancy in Morne, where buildings huddled together like rats in a storm, as if to escape the bitter breeze that blew through the narrow streets. As the daylight faded, sparks flying from the forges, that hadn’t yet been boarded over, were all that stood to bar the dark that laid claim to the city.

  Mud squelched underfoot, as they trudged through its streets. Nathaniel could feel Bela’s hooves sink further, the longer his mare left them in the muck. He found himself wondering whether there were cobblestones below or just layers of hardened clay. Vaera was particularly vocal in expressing her disgust, much to the amusement of Brey who accompanied her.

  Morne was quieter too, not quite possessing the hustle and bustle of Obsidia. Zaine had called it the ‘city of smoke and whispers’. Nathaniel could understand why and it did little to distil his fears, after being nearly murdered in his bed.

  Around every corner they turned, these whispers seemed to follow, giving Nathaniel the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. On one occasion, he had caught a local, garbed in a grey coat that hung to his ankles, staring at him as he passed. Another watcher, for there were many, was covered in so much soot and charcoal dust that he almost blended into the street’s shadows.

  Nathaniel could only return his gaze for so long and was grateful when Gabe eventually sent the man scurrying deeper into the shadows with a gruff, ‘what are you looking at?’

  ‘What’s wrong with everyone here?’ Nathaniel thought aloud, ‘I thought Morne was meant to be…’

  ‘Not quite so dreary?’ Zaine suggested.

  ‘Well… yes,’ Nathaniel agreed reluctantly.

  ‘It once was. Long ago Morne was the backbone of Horizon’s war machine. Forged anything from swords to horseshoes.’

  ‘And now?’

  The Hunter regarded Nathaniel, at least he thought he did. His hood had largely turned to face the Regal. Even if he could see the man’s silver eyes, Nathaniel never could tell if the Hunter was simply considering his words or scrutinising him.

  ‘It can be… difficult to ease back into peace,’ he replied measuredly.

  It felt good to be away from Greymound and its untrusting eyes, yet Nathaniel couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach as he looked at his surroundings.

  This was what he imagined Räne – the Broken City – would be like, a pale imitation of a once proud city. Ghosts wandering aimlessly through the fog trying to remember a time when their home stood proud. The few remaining forges of Morne even generated enough smoke to give the permanent, eerie appearance of fog. Nathaniel half-expected the Sisters of the Dagger to suddenly burst out of the smoke.

  Nathaniel tucked his head deeper into his hood to guard against the misty rain that had already soaked their legs and mounts.

  ‘How long must we stay here?’ Nathaniel found himself shouting behind the Hunter.

  They had arrived in Morne earlier in the day to replenish their supplies. While the thought of a warm bed and something to eat - other than the animals Zaine had hunted outside the villages they’d passed - was an enticing one, Morne scared him more than he cared to admit.

  ‘Not for long,’ Zaine said.

  Truth be told, the city wasn’t all that worried him. Ever since the Sisters of the Dagger had made an appearance in Greymound, Brey’s attitude toward him had softened. She gave him one of her pretty crooked smiles when he twisted his head back. Pretty? He blushed and looked back ahead at Zaine’s black stallion. Where had t
hat come from? Do you not remember who you’re promised to?

  Well… actually, when Nathaniel thought about it, he didn’t. In fact, all he had to go on was a green dress. No face, not even a name.

  She usually occupied his dreams as that strange flower girl, running away from him down the corridors of the Emperor’s palace. Tapestried walls with vaulted ceilings blurred around him but there was no floor, just a carpet of black and gold rippling above a dark, empty expanse.

  Sometimes the carpets would lead him to the girl, before suddenly whipping out from under him, plunging Nathaniel into the black. At other times, he found himself revisiting Athrana’s prayer room, where the Emperor’s body lay - always in the same position - sprawled on the steps to the altar, as thick blood oozed, like oil.

  Kinsssslayerrrr

  A voice that seemed befitting of a serpent, would hiss accusingly from the shadows.

  Sometimes he’d turn round to find the Szar, his long, puckered scar creasing as he sneered at Nathaniel, pointing accusingly. The black leaves of the Obsidian Crown bleeding over his forehead.

  Lately though, Brey had begun to creep into his dreams.

  First, it had been nothing more than a glimpse of brown braids, disappearing into an adjoining corridor. A distraction he’d shrug off, before pursuing the girl in the green dress.

  Then those green eyes had appeared. She’d beckon him away and Nathaniel would find himself standing at the junction of two corridors, not certain which one to take.

  Why was she in his dreams in the first place? He had not asked for this!

  Vaera called Nathaniel’s name loudly, snapping him out of his delirium. Her horse had overtaken Brey’s and now trotted directly behind Bela.

  ‘You seem troubled,’ Vaera said.

  She wasn’t glaring at him for once. The change in behaviour made him oddly uncomfortable.

  ‘Just thinking about… things,’ Nathaniel replied cryptically. If he had told her of his dreams, he expected her sympathy would be particularly short-lived.