by Shae Ford
“Silas.”
“— with her. We aren’t going to go charging into the mountains looking for them, and that’s my final word on the matter.” He leaned back, jutting out his chin. “Now if you pester me about it again, I’m afraid I’ll have no choice. I’ve already had to lock Nadine in her room because she wouldn’t behave. Am I going to have to do the same with you?”
“Assuming you could find a lock that would hold me? No, Captain,” Jake grumbled. Then, as he turned to leave: “I just hope you’re right.”
The moment Jake had marched from the room, Lysander sagged in his chair. His eyes were distant by the time they reached the window. There was a sharpness behind the storm, now — a rumbling in the clouds. He stared, unflinching, until a soft knock drew his eyes away.
“Have you come to scold me as well?”
Aerilyn smiled as she crossed the room, her pale blue gown sweeping the floor behind her. One hand rested absently on the small bump beneath her dress. “That all depends. Have you done something worthy of a scolding?”
“Perhaps,” Lysander said as he pulled her into his lap. They sat quietly for a moment: her arms around his neck and his ear against her chest. “I’m doing the right thing. I know I am.”
“Of course you are.”
“I’ve managed to keep my people fed, my men out of trouble, and my wife indescribably happy,” he said with a smile. “The winds have stopped howling and the weather’s finally fair. There’s absolutely no point in marching across the Kingdom looking for trouble — not when I’ve got everything I need right here.” He pulled his head from her chest. “Right?”
She kissed him on the chin. “Right. You’ve earned yourself some peace.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“There’s no reason why you shouldn’t spend the rest of your days comfortably, trading for goods instead of killing for them.”
“Absolutely,” Lysander said — though the word came out sounding as if he’d strained it through his teeth.
“We’ll go to the chancellor’s parties together and make all sorts of friends. I’ll need to buy you some proper dress wear, of course. You’d look so handsome in a fur-trimmed coat,” she added with glowing smile. “They’re a little itchy at first, but you’ll get used to it.” Her eyes flicked down to the smear of ink across his cheek. “Oh dear, what have you gotten yourself into?”
Lysander sat rigidly as she scrubbed at the ink with her thumb. Sparks flashed behind his eyes. “We wouldn’t have to go to all of the balls, surely.”
She laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous, my love. If we don’t go to the balls, how can you expect your son to marry well?”
“Come again?”
She sighed. “If we ever want any respect at all among the merchants, we’ll have to find him a lovely woman of good standing to marry. And if we have a daughter, we’ll need to get her betrothed as quickly as possible. Otherwise all the wealthy old men will be taken,” she added with a wink.
Lysander’s smile didn’t quite have the same shine as it’d had before. “I’m worried about Kyleigh and Kael,” he blurted out.
Aerilyn raised her brows. “But I thought you said they’d be all right?”
“There’s war brewing in the Kingdom. I’ve heard all sorts of nasty rumors at the chancellor’s castle: Midlan has fallen unnaturally silent, Titus’s thugs are carving up the mountains, and everybody’s convinced there’s all manner of evil running wild in the Grandforest. It’s all such a sudden, terrible business. I never could’ve seen it coming.”
Aerilyn gripped his arm. “Oh, that’s horrible! You ought to go after them — at least as far as the Valley. There’s no telling what sort of mess they might’ve gotten themselves into.”
“Ah, but if I leave, who’s going to take care of the merchanting? You’re in no state to handle all of the writing, all the squabbling back and forth —”
“I have an idea,” Aerilyn said lightly. She slid off his lap, took him by the hand, and led him down the hall.
As they wound their way through the mansion’s elaborate passageways, a soft trail of music rose to greet them. It was muted at first. But the closer they got, the more the notes began to stand out. The song was sharp, pounded out with force and finality. It rang through the halls like the steps of an army — one with its will bent against the destruction of all in its path.
The louder the music became, the more Lysander slowed. “Ah, I don’t think he’s quite ready yet, my love.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s more than ready.”
“But he said he doesn’t want to be disturbed. He’s been very clear on that, and I think the least we can do is —”
“If you leave him alone, he’ll rot in there,” Aerilyn said firmly. “He’ll waste away until you come in one day and find his bones hunched over that foolish instrument. If there was ever a man who needed to be disturbed, it’s Thelred.” With that, she latched onto Lysander’s arm and pulled him through the ballroom doors.
The music slammed to a stop.
“I told you not to come in here!”
Thelred sat at the bench of a small piano. The hair on his face had grown long and there were plates of half-eaten food scattered all about him. His eyes were rimmed red, his fists were clenched tightly atop the piano’s keys — and his only clothing was a rumpled, filthy nightshirt.
Lysander managed to take two steps in before he staggered backwards. “What in high tide is that smell?”
“He hasn’t bathed since we got back from the plains,” Aerilyn said.
Thelred returned her look with a glare. “It’s nobody’s business whether I’ve bathed or not.”
“He hasn’t been going for his walks, either,” Aerilyn added, crossing her arms. “Morris said you’re supposed to walk on it at least twice a day. How do you ever expect to get used to —?”
“I don’t want to get used to it,” Thelred said sharply. “Do you think I ever want to be seen like this?”
He jerked his leg out from under the piano. A thick leather band was strapped on just below his knee, held tightly by a tangle of lacing. Below that was a wooden stick: it was nearly as thick as a man’s arm and with a knob on the end for walking.
Thelred’s glare slipped as Lysander met his gaze. He tugged down roughly on his nightshirt — though the hem fell well short of his wooden leg. “I can’t sail, and I can’t fight. I’m no good for anything anymore. So you might as well just leave me to my music.”
Lysander watched him a moment more before he clasped his hands smartly behind his back. “Sorry, Red, but I’m afraid I can’t do that. Our friends in the mountains need my help. And while I’m away, I expect you to run the merchanting.”
Thelred looked as if a stiff wind had just blown up his nightshirt. “But …”
Lysander held up a hand. “The latest shipment from the plains should be halfway here by now. Once it arrives, you’ll need to take it to the castle. Sell Chaucer his bit — at the most ridiculous rate possible — then sell the rest in the courtyard. Keep the men in line while you’re on the chancellor’s grounds. And make sure you don’t get caught stealing anything.”
“There shouldn’t be any stealing to begin with,” Aerilyn cut in, glaring.
Lysander planted a swift kiss on her cheek. “Isn’t that what I said?”
Thelred struggled to his feet. “Wait, I don’t —”
“Put on some trousers and get to work,” Lysander called as he strode through the door. “That’s an order, Red.”
“Aye, Captain,” he mumbled. Once Lysander had disappeared, Thelred turned his glare on Aerilyn. “I suppose I have you to thank for this.”
He plopped down on the bench with a grunt. While he fumbled with the laces on his wooden leg, she leaned casually against the piano. “I should be thanking you, actually.”
Thelred’s fingers froze to the laces, and his head rose slowly. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “It’s simple, really. We’re all worried s
ick about Kyleigh and Kael, Lysander’s completely miserable — and as long as he’s here, he’ll go on treating me like I’m some frail thing that might crumble to bits at any moment,” she added with a frown. “An adventure will give him something to do … and while he’s away, you and I can run the merchanting business.”
“You’re going to help me?” When she nodded, he rolled his eyes. “You’re daft if you think I’m taking you anywhere.”
“Oh, you’ll take me. I have every confidence you will. Because if you leave me here alone with Uncle Martin and all these nosy maids,” she dragged her hand across the piano’s keys in an ominous climb, “I’ll pull every single string out of your ridiculous instrument. One at a time.”
He glared at her.
She smiled sweetly.
“Fine.”
“Wonderful! Oh, I’m so happy you’ve agreed. And it’s probably best if Lysander knows nothing about this,” she added with a hard smile. “Just in case.”
She dragged her hand down the piano’s keys as she left, tinkling one obnoxious strand of notes at the end. Thelred glared at the doorway long after she’d gone.
In the end, he threw up his hands and stomped out behind her, muttering curses as he went.
Chapter 10
Fate’s Forsaken
The further north they went, the more spread out the trees became. Slowly, the undergrowth thinned and the oaks grew slimmer. Rocks covered much of the ground and large pines began to take root between them. But though the forest had shrunk back, Baird’s prattling never ceased.
“I fell asleep so quickly I don’t even remember closing my eyes! There’s no peace quite like a long night’s rest.”
The beggar-bard had reattached himself to Kael’s pack — and he talked from sunup till sundown. His words ran in such a constant stream that if he ever stopped to take a breath, the sudden quiet would jolt Kael from his thoughts.
“It’s strange, but I always know I’m asleep because things suddenly get brighter. I see colors and shapes, the smiling faces of long-lost friends. Ah, I hope death isn’t nearly as dark as life!”
Kael figured if he couldn’t be left alone to think, he might as well join in. “What happened to your friends?”
“The Whispering War claimed most of them, though a few died after. They reached the ends of their yarn all too soon. Fate’s crafted a story for each of us, you know.” He tapped a knobby finger to the side of his head. “She labors with patience at her loom, weaving every moment of our lives into a brilliant tale. Our tapestries go on until she reaches the end of our yarn; some of our lives wind up rather frayed at their hems. It pains me to say that most of my friends’ stories ended all too soon. What is it about war that kills the young?”
“It probably has something to do with the swords,” Kael said.
“Or the arrows — or all that bothersome fighting in close spaces,” Kyleigh added with a smirk.
Baird didn’t seem to notice their teasing. “No, no it happens before all that. Why do the young answer the battle horns? Why are they so quick to draw their swords? If you ask me, war is in their hearts long before the lines are drawn. It’s a lust that need only be awakened.”
“Did you fight in the War?” Kael said after a moment.
There was a rustling noise as Baird’s shaggy head slung to the side. “No, I was never much of a fighter … love was always my poison of choice.”
Kael was immediately sorry he’d asked.
Kyleigh grinned. “Is that why Fate struck you blind, then? Did you spoil one too many noblemen’s daughters?”
“Kyleigh!”
But Baird just laughed. “No. There might’ve been one or two noblewomen along the way, but my true love was always in telling of tales. Stories take on a life of their own, don’t they? They’re creatures carried gently by word and voice, but never quite bound. Long after the last line falls hushed, I can still hear the clang of swords and the cries of my heroes — proof that they travel even beyond the tongue. Yes, stories speak to us like none among the living can.”
“I suppose,” Kael said. Though he tried to act indifferent, he couldn’t quite manage it. Those were the words he’d always felt inside his heart.
*******
Nothing Kael said could convince Kyleigh to join the shapechangers’ war. Anytime he asked, she would glower and say that he’d only regret it. She said she was doing what was best. She insisted he ought to trust her. So he had no choice but to follow her to the road.
After another day of battling their way through the thicket, they tumbled out of the undergrowth and onto a wide dirt path. At least following the road meant that there was a little space between the trees: sunlight fell through unfettered, warming them against the forest’s gloom.
Kael was buried very deeply in the Atlas when he suddenly ran smack into the unrelenting wall of Kyleigh’s shoulders. Before he could ask her why on earth she’d stopped, she shoved him back with her elbow.
“Get off the road.”
“But we’ve only just got —”
“Screams!” Baird cried, cupping a knobby hand against his ear. “A song of pain and fright!”
Kael slung his bow from across his chest. “Is it the hounds?”
“Dozens of different voices, some great and some small. They roar and bark and yip and yelp, each one crying: Help me!” Baird tugged hard on his pack. “We must turn away! We must be gone!”
“Are you mad? If someone’s in trouble, we ought to help,” Kael said.
Kyleigh was too busy cursing under her breath to hear him. She grabbed Baird by the wrist and pulled hard, dragging them both towards the brush. “That meddling old wolf … I’ll kill him!”
“What do you …?” Kael’s words trailed away as he caught a faint echo in the distance.
It was the sound of wailing — the anguished screams of men and women, the cries of animals in pain. Though the forest tried to strangle them, Kael could still hear the terror in their pleas.
“No, get into the bushes,” Kyleigh said when he took a step forward. “They’re coming to us.”
He followed her reluctantly into the trees and crouched, waiting. Baird curled upon the ground behind them and cradled the filthy rucksack against his chest. He covered his ears, groaning softly. But at least he stayed quiet.
As they waited, the screams began to grow louder. Soon Kael had to grip his bow tightly to keep from charging out. The wails of the hounds had chilled his blood — he’d heard the evil in their bays. But these screams were different. Instead of chilling, his blood burned against them. He felt the anger rising up long before he saw the cart.
It rolled slowly down the road, flanked on either side by a company of soldiers. The cart’s wheels clattered as it bounced along the path. Its bed squeaked piteously. But even the rattling of its axle couldn’t quite drown out the cries of its passengers.
Men and women filled the cart’s bed to either end. He could tell by their flaming red hair that they must’ve come from the Unforgivable Mountains. They wore rough spun clothes instead of armor, and he realized with a jolt that they must’ve been common folk — villagers Titus had captured during his march.
His blood began to bubble dangerously when he saw how they’d been thrown into the cart. The villagers had been stuffed inside metal cages and stacked on top of each other like cargo. Their fingers curled through the wiring. They pounded the bars with their fists. Every few moments, their human wails would become the cries of animals — they would convulse in the middle of their pleas and their skin would erupt in feathers or fur.
Kael realized that must’ve been how the armor had gotten melded to the hounds’ skin: they’d been twisted back and forth so many times until the iron had finally become a part of them.
A horde of Earl Titus’s soldiers guarded the cart. They kept a steady march, their helmeted heads turning to search the trees. One soldier jabbed the butt of his spear in amongst the cages. He laughed when he heard a yelp.
And he sent an arrow straight through his laughing mouth.
Kyleigh said something that was far from ladylike as she drew up her hood, but Kael wasn’t listening. His eyes were already on the next target.
Soldiers fell helplessly to his arrows. Rage numbed him and his limbs moved in a deadly pattern. His eyes went from patches of flesh to the gaps between plates of armor, leading his hands in a charge.
Kyleigh ran out from behind him and threw herself into the fray. She cut the horses free and they thundered madly from her scent, eyes rolling back in terror. When the cart’s driver made the very serious mistake of trying to fend her off, she ripped him from his seat — and directly onto the point of her sword.
Kyleigh leapt to the top of the cart. She dodged the soldiers’ spears with ease, spinning and ducking out of their path. A few tried to climb up the cart’s side only to find Harbinger waiting for them. The sword’s curved white blade bit through their necks, singing sweetly as the soldiers’ heads rolled down their backs.
They’d managed to thin out a considerable number before the soldiers changed tactics. They clumped behind the cart, putting the caged people between themselves and Kael’s arrows.
It was more of an inconvenience than anything. Kael nocked an arrow and strode in a half-circle, his eyes peeled for the first bit of skin peeking out from behind the cart — and perhaps it was because he was so focused on the soldiers that he didn’t see the monstrous shadow cross over his boots …
Or hear the wind whistling off its great, glossy wings.
The back of his head struck the ground hard. Shock chased the numbness away. He managed to catch a glimpse of the canopy above him before something large blocked his vision.
It was black and stank of rotted meat. He felt a sudden pressure on his shoulders — and with the pressure came pain. Horrible pain. It was so sharp and sudden that Kael cried out. He dropped his bow and twisted to look at the things that dug into his flesh.
