by J. M. Topp
‘The castellan,’ said Theodric, glancing at Zignumerand’s body. ‘You did it.’
‘The betrayal is over, Theodric,’ she said.
‘What are we to do with him?’
‘He will not enjoy a clean death. This I promise you.’
‘Your wyvern?’ asked Theodric, turning to look at the dragonling.
Elymiah shook her head. ‘No, I have something else in mind for him.’
THE CORPSE OF the kraken had been decaying for nearly a week now on the shores of Oarfish Bay. Whitened bone had been exposed, protruding from the decomposing grey and black skin. A thick stench of death lurked as Elymiah and her daemon hunters walked in a line on the sandy beach. A banner of the three wolves fluttered in the sea winds. The sun was hidden behind clouds, casting a cold grey light, and the waters of the LaFoyelle Sea were frigid. Theodric had predicted a storm was on the rise. Elymiah walked in her polished Holy Silver Angels Platoon armour. In the time since the death of Lord Bearohd, the retaking of Karagh Muín, and the capture of the castellan, Theodric had made a new titanite plate arm for Elymiah. This one, according to Theodric, would be extremely receptive to her commands. It was made of Spirit-breaker’s melted metal, and it was imbued with magic. Elymiah flexed her sleek new metal arm as she walked through the sand. She glanced at the kraken corpse and remembered its dying words.
‘I am not better than you, Ótta,’ she whispered somberly.
She stopped just a few yards from the decaying corpse.
‘This will do,’ she said, standing at the shore nearest to the deepest point of Oarfish Bay’s reef. The sandbank dropped thousands of feet down into the reefs. The daemon hunters with her gave way to reveal castellan Zignumerand Kaathe, who was wearing tattered robes, clad in irons, and dragging an iron ball between his legs. Theodric grabbed Zigi’s arm, and the castellan turned violently to him.
Zigi’s face turned brown, and his hair grew in length. The new visage had a striking resemblance to Theodric, like a brother or father.
‘Please, Theo, all I ever did was help you and care for you,’ said Zigi’s new form.
Theodric spit in the castellan’s face. ‘Save your desperate tricks, Zigi. My father never called me Theo.’
He pushed Zignumerand onto the sand. Zigi fell before Elymiah’s feet.
‘Elymiah, you don’t need to do this. I beg you,’ he said, clutching the tips of her boots.
Elymiah pulled her feet away from him and turned to face the sea.
‘Walk,’ she said quietly.
Zignumerand glanced at the grey waters frothing in the distance and began to shake.
‘You can’t mean it… I—’
‘Walk,’ she repeated. A few scant rays of yellow sun cut through the grey clouds, shining out over Oarfish Bay. Elymiah watched the dancing light glint in the waves.
The castellan swallowed hard. Theodric drew his blade and put it to Zignumerand’s neck, drawing the chained castellan away from Elymiah. Zignumerand stood up, backing away from Theodric’s sword, and dragged the iron ball to the edge of the water. The Veledred looked on as he put one foot after another, walking deeper and deeper into the sea. Before long, the water was to the level of his waist. He turned, and once more Elymiah saw Robyn’s face. She turned her face away and bit her lower lip fiercely.
‘Commandant?’ asked Theodric.
‘I knew he would do that. Please, Theodric, end my misery.’
‘As you say, Commandant.’ Theodric beckoned one of his bowmen to them. It was the same acolyte that informed her of Zignumerand’s betrayal.
‘One arrow,’ said Theodric.
‘With pleasure,’ said the acolyte as he notched an arrow to his string and let the missile fly. The arrow pierced Zigi’s throat, and the castellan fell into the murky water. The last thing Elymiah saw of the castellan was a gathering pool of red where he’d stood.
A sharp pain bit at her side, forcing her to one knee.
‘Elymiah,’ said Theodric next to her. ‘What is the matter?’
‘My rib, I think it’s broken,’ she said, wincing, but then she felt an entirely different pain. Something was very wrong.
‘Theodric? What is happening to me?’ she asked, clutching at her stomach.
‘By the gods,’ whispered Theodric as he watched his new commandant pass out on the cold sandy beach.
ELYMIAH RESTED IN the commandant’s bed. Slowly, her eyes opened. Her sword and armour had been cleaned and set beside her. Her memory danced back to a time that seemed long ago when all she’d desired was the sweet release of death. Now, perhaps she could carve out a life for herself. She remembered the incident on the beach and felt the pain in her side again. She winced as a soft knock on the door echoed in the chamber.
‘Enter.’
Theodric leaned into the room.
‘Pardon me, Commandant,’ he said, closing the heavy wooden door behind him. ‘I have news.’
‘Oh? What is it?’
‘Keeper of the Reef—Wischard—and his men left for Saltkire Hold just this morning. A new treaty is being brushed up, and it seems that the trade route will be established once more with the Hold. Peace will be restored between the Veledred and them.’
‘So Wischard has been named Keeper of the Reef?’ Her heart sank. Coda must not have survived his wounds. She bit her lip.
Theodric eyed her curiously. ‘I had a feeling you wanted to see him.’
Elymiah’s heart sprang into her throat as Coda walked through into her chambers.
‘Elymiah,’ he said as he stood by her bed. His face was wrapped in bandages, but she could see the edge of his smile beneath them. He knelt before her.
‘I am afraid I am no longer the chiselled visage of beauty you once knew,’ he said, bowing his head. ‘I am still your weapon to use as you see fit.’
Elymiah sprang from her bed and hugged him tightly. ‘Shut your mouth, Coda. I don’t care how you look.’
He grunted, and she lessened her grasp on his neck. ‘I thought you were to be named Keeper of the Reef.’
‘I made an oath, Elymiah. To follow you to the end. I intend to keep that promise no matter the odds.’
‘What about the Holdians?’
The tension was high between them and the Veledred. Her own daemon hunters had suffered drastically in the fight. Lord Bearohd had killed dozens of her men. Time would have to pass for relations to be relatively peaceful once more.
‘Given time, our people will find allies with yours. It will help if I am kept by your side. Wischard is a smart man, a man you can trust,’ said Coda.
Theodric cleared his throat. Elymiah had almost forgotten he was in the room.
‘I have other news, Commandant,’ he Theodric.
‘Tell me.’
A look of concern crossed Theodric’s face. ‘Well, I don’t know how to say this, Elymiah…’ He glanced down at his feet and then looked at her belly.
Elymiah stared at Theodric. His face was solemn. She laughed and slapped her thigh. ‘That’s really good, Theodric. And without cracking a smile. I am most impressed.’
‘No, Commandant. This is not a jest. I am being utterly serious. You are with child.’
Elymiah’s laugh died. ‘How? What? No, I cannot bear children.’ She glanced at Coda, who was speechless. She cleared her throat. ‘The plague, I…it’s impossible… What? How am I pregnant?’
‘All I know is that you have a child within you,’ said Theodric.
‘No, no, no, no,’ said Elymiah, letting go of Coda and sitting down on her bed. Her forehead grew hot and heavy.
Theodric rubbed the nape of his neck. ‘What’s the matter, Elymiah? To be pregnant is fine. You and Coda would make a fine—’
‘No, it’s not Coda’s,’ she said. ‘We never…’
Theodric knelt at her side and took her hand in his. ‘It may be unnatural, but what grows within you is not a monster. What you bear is like you and me. A simple human. But what’s more, Guiomar says the child is
healthy. His heart beats strong. By the way you carry, Guiomar says it’s a baby boy.’
Bond of a Daemon Hunter
THE SCENT OF spices and horehound jolted Eymeg from his sleep. His eyes fluttered open, and immediately he sat up. Just as soon as he had done that, a burning pain rushed over his arms and his torso. He looked at them and saw that his forearms and hands were bandaged and bloodied. He could feel the sticky ointment beneath the tightly placed bandages. He remembered the explosion of soldiers and the wall of ice that had materialised out of nothing. He was lying in a large bed with silk sheets draped over his legs. He felt a tightness on his forehead and realised his head was also bandaged. A bright ray of sunlight poured in through an open window, and he realised he was not in a tavern or inn. The thin silk curtains by the window were too exquisite for the likes of a simple tavern. A movement in the corner of his eye made him turn to see Jolien sitting in a chair beside the bed. She folded a small brown book over her lap and stared at him with one eye. Her other eye had been cleaned, and she wore a black eye patch, though scars from where the interrogators' pincers had cut her flesh could be seen dropping down over her cheek to her chin.
‘How long?’ asked Eymeg.
‘A day and a half.’
‘Where are we?’
‘The royal keep healer’s quarters, Anduíthras’s Rest,’ said Jolien. ‘King William Bhenhart heard of a certain daemon hunter in the city. Without delay, he sent his personal bodyguard out to find you. When the bells began to ring, he was lucky to find us before more Aivaterrans did.’
‘And this?’ asked Eymeg, holding his hands up. ‘What happened to me?’
‘You were too close to the blast of ice the medallion gave off when it exploded. From the little I understood from the healer, you have burns caused by intense magic. The healer said he had never seen anything like the kinds of wounds you have, but he said they would heal in time.’ Jolien brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘If you weren’t wanted before in Aivaterra, you are now. Everyone is looking for a murderer and a sorcerer.’
‘They think I am the sorcerer?’ asked Eymeg.
‘Funny, isn’t it?’ Jolien managed a smile and glanced at him.
Eymeg let a pause settle between them and then cleared his throat. ‘Why?’
‘What?’
‘Why are you doing this? It’s pretty clear I don’t like you very much, and I know the feeling is mutual. Why are you helping me like this?’
She looked away. ‘It’s nothing, Eymeg. Please, don’t read into it.’
‘The word you spoke. It was more magic, wasn’t it?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Jolien, shaking her head. ‘When I tossed the medallion, I didn’t know what to expect. It’s almost as if someone took my body and voice and used it by force. I’ve never felt so powerless and so full of power at the same time. I still don’t understand what happened.’
‘So what, you’re some kind of witch now?’ asked Eymeg, a hint of a smile dancing on the corners of his lips.
‘Stop it, Eymeg. You’re in no state to be making jokes,’ she said with a chuckle.
Eymeg then grew serious. ‘You saved my life.’
‘I said, don’t think about it too much. You need your rest.’
‘We need to get out of here,’ said Eymeg, kicking his legs from the white bedding, but Jolien put a hand on his knee.
‘Wait, Eymeg. I spoke with King William. He has some interesting things to say. I suggest you hear him out.’
‘I need to find Andre. He has a message for me. It may have to do with my daughter.’
‘Andre lives here now, at the behest of King William. That’s part of the reason you need to hear the king out.’
Eymeg frowned. ‘All right, where is he?’
‘Will you relax? Why are you so eager to leap into danger when you just got your life back?’ snapped Jolien. ‘King William is in a council meeting with the Hallowed Masters, but Andre will be here before too long. You just need to wait.’
Eymeg relaxed on his bed and glanced at her.
‘Thank you.’
‘Eymeg,’ said Jolien, pausing for a moment. She tapped her fingers on the small leather book in her lap and finally looked into his eyes. ‘I’m leaving Aivaterra.’
‘What?’ asked Eymeg, frowning.
‘I cannot stay in this city any longer,’ said Jolien, putting a strand of hair behind her eye. ‘I heard rumours about a certain strix that has appeared in Sarene. I intend to find her.’
‘The same strix at Floddenvale? Are you thinking of becoming a vampire? Or are you thinking about taking the duchess head on?’ asked Eymeg, shaking his head.
Jolien laughed. The crystalline laughter danced on the pleasant calm of the room. She brushed the loose strand of hair behind her ear once more. ‘No, that’s not why I want to hunt her down. I…I suppose I must admit I lied to you. The strix did tell me something in that broken house when she appeared first as an owl. The medallion that Rikfried gave me, the strix recognised it. She spoke to me.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Magic. The duchess said I have a propensity for it. It runs in my blood. I didn’t believe it, but after what happened in the prisons, maybe there is something to it. I never believed in magic before, but now it is undeniable. With the Second Age of Fog, perhaps I can use what I learn to push the darkness back, if only a little.’
‘Jolien, come now. A sorceress?’ Eymeg laughed, but it hurt his torso. He winced, his laugh turning into a moan. He sat back in his bed and let out a pained sigh.
Jolien chuckled. ‘It is funny, isn’t it?’ Her smile faded, and her brown eye sparkled at him. ‘My life was my love Rowan and my three children. I lived for them, and now that they have all been taken from me. I have to find…I have to know they are okay.’
‘You intend to use magic to do this?’
She bit her lip.
A shadow grew over Eymeg’s face. ‘Black magic, Jolien, is nothing to be trifled with. Necromancy is a not a worthy price for your soul. Not even for loved ones.’
‘Oh? And what would you know about loved ones?’ asked Jolien, growing visibly angry. ‘Do not think you understand what I’ve been through, Eymeg, simply because you have the power to judge my actions. You lost everything due to your foolish choices. I had my family torn from my hands, despite my best efforts to keep them alive. Is it any wonder I want to see them again?’
Tears began to well in her eye, but Eymeg knew she was too proud to let them fall before him. She wiped her eye and sighed heavily. ‘I don’t expect you to understand, Eymeg.’
‘I’m sorry for everything, Jolien. I was a fool. But…don’t…don’t leave.’
She closed her eye and turned away from him. ‘Why not? I thought I was a burden to you.’
‘You are,’ he said. ‘A burden I don’t quite dislike.’
‘That’s really sweet of you, Eymeg. I never thought I would hear those words come from your mouth,’ she said, turning red.
Eymeg swallowed hard. ‘I cannot do this alone.’
Jolien straightened her jerkin and sniffed. ‘You are a fool, Eymeg, but you are stronger than you think. You wear your guilt on your sleeve, like every man I’ve ever met. “No one wants me, no one can ever forgive me,” they say. Do not do that to yourself, Eymeg. Guilt is a rusted and broken armour. You are stronger than that. You’ve faced too much to die inside yourself.’
‘I fell in love with a dream,’ he said, remembering the dead fallen angel’s words.
‘No. You followed your heart. Don’t fault yourself for that. Feel sorry for a moment, and then in the morrow, get up and move on.’ Jolien stood up and brushed off her brown riding pants. She wore riding boots and a thin dark red cloak and clutched gloves in her hands. Eymeg realised she was already prepared for the long road ahead. She walked to the door but stopped at the doorframe. ‘When you found me in that small graveyard, I was prepared to die. I didn’t know it when I saw you, but you he
lped me out of that hole.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’m going to vomit if I continue talking about this. I’m going to Sarene, Eymeg. Gosfridus is coming with me. He says he wants to see the world, and why not? The boy needs to see that there is more to life than his simple religion kept in the solitude of four stone walls. When you’ve healed enough and finished your business with Andre and the king, come and meet me there. Perhaps the world won’t be dead by then.’
‘Jolien…I—’
She shook her head. ‘Don’t…don’t make this harder than it needs to be.’
‘Fine,’ whispered Eymeg.
After a moment of silence, she looked up at him. ‘’Meg?’
‘Yes, Jolien?’
‘Take care of yourself.’
Eymeg nodded and looked down at his lap. Jolien walked over to his bed and kissed him on the forehead. ‘I am not her. Do not think I will abandon you. I will see you again. I know I will. I won’t say farewell, but till the next time.’ Without another word, she turned on her heel and left the room, leaving him alone in silence.
EYMEG KICKED THE sheets off his feet and carefully set them beside the bed. He had had enough resting and enough of doing nothing. Two days had gone by since his conversation with Jolien. No other visitors, save for a handmaiden and a healer, had bothered him—neither of whom would answer any of Eymeg’s questions, telling him only to remain in bed. Other than that, the handmaiden wouldn’t even acknowledge his existence, and the healer only changed his bandages.
The handmaiden had taken his Veledred ranging clothes, and Eymeg hadn’t seen them since. His overcoat with three wolves over a field of green had been washed, it seemed, and had been folded and placed beside the bed. He noticed his broken halberd rested on the chair where his overcoat had been folded. Light found a way to glisten on the knicks in the blade, despite the rust that had begun to set in. Eymeg had been given a white doublet that was inlaid with golden spades on the front. His pants, which were the same colour as the doublet, were tight-fitting but comfortable nonetheless. It was still too rich for him. What he wouldn’t give for a horse beneath him, a sword on his hip, and a road to ride on! Finally, after two days, Eymeg thought it acceptable for him to try and stand. He looked at an elegant mirror in the corner of the room that had golden women dancing on the edges. His hair was a brown tangled mess, as was his beard. He had small cuts on his cheeks and redness on his chin and neck. White bandages were wrapped over his forehead. As soon as he thought about cutting the tangled mess of hair himself, the handmaiden reappeared with shears in her hands.
