Category: nymph

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2-Teeth

The river was clear where it closed over my head, but just a few feet away the cloud of silt roiled through the water. Dark shapes thrashed in the cloud but judging by the amount of red tainting the river, the cow didn’t have long. I swam toward the fray, my efforts hampered by the current. I reached out to the river, just make room for me, I coaxed, that’s all.

It ignored me.

Fine, then.

Even without help, a few powerful strokes pushed me into the cloud of silt and immediately a long hard shape slammed into me. I tumbled, my free hand scraping against scales. I grabbed ahold of a ridge of spikes and found myself whipped through the water. I bumped over the now limp form of the cow and then slammed into another coil of scaled muscle. Large savage claws were in the bleeding flank of the cow. Eloi, what was this thing?  I hoped it had an obvious head. I let go of the coil and grabbed the claws, thrusting my long knife at the creature’s wrist. The impact jarred through my arm as the knife barely pierced beneath the scales. The claws yanked from the cow, nearly tearing the knife from my grip.

With a swoosh of current I came face to face with the jagged teeth and wide fish eyes of the head. For one heartbeat my whole soul was overcome with conviction that in front of the teeth was the one place I did not want to be. I dove toward the creature, closing the distance between us and striking out with the knife. The monster slipped to the side, easily dodging my blow. I swept past it, turning to attack it from behind. A coil slammed into my back, forcing me down until I hit the river bottom. My ribs protested. For a few seconds I struggled to push off the coil, stirring up silt in blinding clouds. The rocky bottom offered tantalizing leverage, but I couldn’t get my legs under me to push upwards.

Even with those teeth and claws, I realized this creature preferred drowning its prey. A wry smile touched my lips; we could be here a while. I willed my body to relax. My hands floated up from the coil, limp and moving gently in the river’s current. I could see shadows moving around me in the murky water. The legs of the cow rolled by in a sickening motion before vanishing again. I waited, listening to the water and the beat of my heart. The silt had nearly settled, outlining the long body of the beast moving gently through the water, by the time the hideous head again turned toward me.

Stay still. Stay relaxed, I reminded myself. I hoped it wasn’t smart enough to know the knife I still held wasn’t a part of my anatomy.

The creature nosed my body, moving from my legs toward my head. The urge to strike burned inside me, stoked by every proprietary touch from the monster’s snout. The monster shifted its coil, loosening so it could get better access to my torso. The jaws opened, its teeth tearing at my shirt. I struck. Blood stained the river as I drove my knife into the monster’s eye. The beast jerked back, wrenching the knife from my hand. I let it, putting both hands on the coil and writhing free.

Bubbles exploded everywhere as another body hit the water. Loops of long, scaled body flailed, knocking me back and then going rigid. I caught the river bottom with one hand and pulled another knife with the other. Shudders ran through the scaled body, I saw a clawed foot flex and pull at the riverbed. Swimming through the silty water, I angled the knife carefully ahead of me. The monster’s head appeared in the glittering silt, my knife sticking from its eye still, its jaws slack. Behind it, shadows took form into the familiar shoulders and bleached head of Ayglos. His hands were still wrapped around his own knife hilt where it protruded from the base of the monster’s skull, leeching blood into the water.

Our eyes met, and Ayglos asked, “Are you alright?” using the language of clicks and whines nymphs used under the sea.

“Splendid,” I replied in the same language. I sheathed my knife and caught hold of the monster’s jaw, helping Ayglos tow it to the shore.

The cows were long gone when we broke the surface of the water and hauled the heavy carcass up behind us. It was thirty feet long when we finally got the whole thing out of the water. We stood back, hands on our hips and regarded our catch. Covered in muddy green scales, the back third was nearly flat for powering through the water, four short legs with webbed feet and savage claws in the middle third, a long flat neck crowned with glassy eyes and massive toothy jaws…

“It looks like an eel with legs,” I said.

“Crossed with that…dinrodile monster from Haim.” Ayglos gestured to the head. “Teeth of a dinrodile.”

“What’s it doing up here?”

My brother shrugged. It was a good question, but the answer wasn’t our business. Unless someone wanted to pay us to find out. “The real question is, will Hook and Rood be willing to haul it?”

I wrinkled my nose. Our horses were all the way back at the main barns for the cattle operation, since we hadn’t wanted to risk them getting eaten by whatever took the cows. I didn’t want to walk back for them and didn’t think we could whistle loudly enough to summon them. My lips twisted as I pictured them, ears askance and eyes wide, should they arrive and see the monster. “Let’s just take the head.”

*

Special thank you to my Patrons, I am so grateful for your support! Thanks for coming on this journey with me.

Share Zare with your friends and we will be a merry company.

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1-Monsters in the Water

I had spent three days perched in a gnarly oak tree watching for monsters, and I was bored. My branch extended over a little river, commanding clear view of the river and the fields on either side—not that there was anything to see. Cattle lazed peacefully in tall green grass to my left. Plowed earth filled the world to my right. Behind me, if I looked, I would see the distant blue ridge of the Phas Mountains. A pretty view. The river in front of me was wide and lazy and had many places where the banks dipped low, and many other places you could swim in deep, clear pools.

Quiet.

Good fishing.

And no monsters in sight.

I chewed on a stalk of grass, absently watching the tip toss. The thing about hunting was that you couldn’t bring a book.

Spring was bleeding into summer and the days were warm enough that I’d ditched my leather jerkin on the first day out here. The breeze obligingly licked through the linen shirt I wore under my harness of knives, soothing the burn of the late afternoon sun.

A three-note whistle came from upriver. My brother, Ayglos, checking in on his younger sister. I removed the grass long enough to repeat the three-note whistle back.

My brother had gotten us this monster hunting job. We were fresh off a job tracking down a bounty—a murderer we’d caught up with just a few days ride from here. Ayglos had gone into Tanglewood Springs for supplies while I took a nap in a puddle of sunshine. Of the two of us, he was less notable, so he did most of the errands when we were riding together.

At the outfitter, he’d struck up a conversation with a Master Hadrake’s foreman. Turns out, Master Hadrake’s cattle were disappearing, and his herdsmen swore up and down that a scaled beast with hideous claws had risen from the river to claim the cows. It had gotten so bad most of the herdsmen refused to come anywhere near the river and the foreman was hitting up all the taverns and outfitters in Wimshell looking for new herdsmen. Ayglos had offered a different service. “Can’t pass up an ‘easy job,’” I muttered, biting down on the grass. Any chance to earn good money. It’s not like we had anywhere else to be for a few months. It was only a small comfort that Ayglos was sitting in a tree at another major watering spot. Just as bored as I was.

If I hadn’t seen massive clawed, webbed, tracks, in the soft river bank I would have assumed Master Hadrake was being robbed. I’d never heard of a river monster this far north. Though, despite being half-nymph, we’d spent rather less time hunting water monsters than one might suppose.

After three days of sitting in a tree by the herd’s favorite watering spot with nothing but insects and my thoughts for company, I was returning to the cattle rustler theory. We had tried to question the river itself when we first arrived, but it had been vague and uncooperative. Maybe the river thought we were crazy.

My stalk of grass snapped, and I nearly fell off the branch as I lunged to snatch it before it fell out of reach.

An uncertain moo sounded below. I looked down to see a cow craning her head to look at me, her large brown eyes set in a wide piebald face, ears flicking attentively. The whole herd was behind her, having picked their way over to the river while I’d been engrossed in my thoughts.

“It’s alright,” I told the cow, “I’m not the monster.” I waved vaguely at the river.

Her ears flicked. Unconvinced.

“I’m not. Go drink, I’m sure you’re thirsty.”

Cows were such skeptical creatures. I supposed they had a right, having lost several of their compatriots to the river in the past few weeks.

I swung my legs over the side of the branch and bowed at the waist, “Word of honor, my good cow, I, Zare Caspian of Galhara, am not the one killing your sistren.”

Eloi help me. Three days alone in a tree, and I, Zare Caspian of Galhara, Daughter of Zam the Great, Ghost of Nelia, Curse of the Empire, was losing my mind.

The cow blinked at me, as if agreeing with my thoughts. Then, with a shake of her head she turned and strolled to the water. Three others followed her down the slope to the water’s edge, and two waded in to drink half submerged. More from the herd started to amble over. I watched them, grass dangling from my fingers as my mind wandered far away to another river, swift and deep, that ran beside a breathtaking stone palace.

One of the cows vanished under the water with a bovine shriek. I cursed. Water churned, the black hooves of the cow breaking the surface in a desperate kick before a scaled ridge arched over them and both disappeared in a cloud of silt…and then blood…bellowing filled the air as the other cows fled. Leaping to my feet I drew a long knife and barely remembered to whistle for Ayglos before diving into the river.

Special thank you to my Patrons, I am so grateful for your support! Thanks for coming on this journey with me.

Share Zare with your friends and we will be a merry company.

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Launch Date

Hey everyone!

I have wonderful news, we have a launch date for the new Zare adventure! The story will resume February 4th, stay tuned for the release of the story name and the world map. Oh! And now we have a page devoted to keeping track of places and characters in the story, in case you get lost or turned about at any point. Thanks to keyboard short cuts it’s super easy to find who you are looking for.

If you want to be in the know and get things a bit early, check out Zare’s Patreon page where you can become part of the adventure.

Thank you so much Patrons for your continued support while the story has been in development!

I’m so grateful to have you all on this adventure with me.

 

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Legendary Art

Took a break to paint!

Typically, I have The Badlands Job, The River Rebellion, and the new story open all at the same time so I can work on them concurrently. There are so many moving parts, I’m so looking forward to launching this in the new year.

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98-Rhydderhall

By the time we arrived at the ruins of Rhydderhall I had forgotten we had a destination at all. The tunnels let out north of the city, and near the Bandui. We’d crossed the river in the same little boat Trinh and his knights had used when they first returned in secret to Dalyn. The children were in cold stupors, and Quill was all but carrying Hesperide when we stumbled down the remote lane to Rhydderhall. Namal and Baldric were waiting for us in the desolate little garden outside the kitchen, presumably alerted to our approach by sentries. Their eyes went wide as we dragged ourselves in, the sky graying to dawn behind us.

Baldric took one look at Hesperide’s pinched face and darted forward to scoop her into his arms. She sagged against his hulking body as he turned and rushed her into the ruined house. We followed slowly, unable to muster any enthusiasm to cover that last few steps with anything resembling speed. Quill lifted Naran from my arms and I was too tired to protest that I could carry him.

Namal swept his gaze over us, taking in the extra tiny beings bundled in miscellaneous fabric and the blood frozen to our clothes. I could see him putting all the pieces together. We were alive, walking, and he knew exactly why we had so many children with us. He turned and gestured us to follow, “Come, there is water and a little food.”

“Did you have any trouble?” asked Trinh, his voice gravelly with exhaustion.

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” replied Namal. “We set the horses loose well away from here and made good time over bare ground. The men are covering your trail from the main road. We should be able to rest the day, at least. If the cold masks our scent.”

As we entered the narrow stairwell down to the old wine cellar a woman’s groan floated up to greet us. Fantasies of curling up someplace warm to sleep for a few hours vanished like little puffs of breath on a cold wind. I should not have been surprised.

Trinh finished the stairs in two leaps—impressive with the pack on his back and the child in his arms. Namal and Rakov were right behind him, but Quill didn’t bother to rush. He knew already, of course. He’d been her walking stick for the last few hours. My feet were dragging as I closed the cellar door behind us and descended last.

“She’s in labor,” Baldric was standing in gap in the furniture wall that split the room, holding a steadying hand out to Trinh. The rightful king looked very much like he should be holding a giant sword in his fists instead of a heavily bundled child. He stared blankly at Baldric a moment before all the action drained out of him, leaving him with a dazed expression.

I had never been anywhere near a woman in labor—and though the cooks at Galhara were very educational human beings. I looked around the cellar. A few lit candles showed that it was as we’d left it. It was, while not warm exactly, warmer than it was outside. A couple of Trinh’s knights were standing on one side of the room, rumpled blankets on the floor behind them as if they’d been trying to rest before we arrived.

“I don’t think it will be long, now,” continued Baldric.

“Her labor started when running in the tunnels,” said Quill very quietly.

She hadn’t said a word or made a sound. Tears stung my eyes.

“We have to risk a fire,” I said, “We’ll need hot water.” Babies needed cleaning, if nothing else. We needed heat, too, and there were plenty of wounds which also needed attention if we were to survive long enough to escape.

Two of the knights sprang to action, darting past me and up the cellar stairs into the dawn.

I slung my pack off my shoulder, dropping it with a heavy thunk next to the lone table before opening it to fish out Boitumelo’s satchel. Satchel in hand, I headed behind the make shift wall. Hess was hunched over, back propped against the cold stone wall, her head in her hands. Her underthings were already in a pile next to her and her dress was hiked over her knees. A knight was crouched beside her, stroking her hair. I blinked in surprise when I realized the knight was a woman. She was dressed in warm clothes reinforced with leather armor. Her hair was restrained in a long dark braid. She turned to look at me when I entered, her chin dipped, “Your Highness.” She was a few years older than me. Her face was not delicate, but she had a fearsome sort of beauty with thin lips and large dark eyes.

My steps slowed as I approached. “I don’t remember you,” I said. Too tired, apparently, for manners.

She gave me a small smile, as if I’d revealed her greatest secret. “I am Athrynel Hasreda, the King’s Marksman.”

Pausing, I looked at her again, remembering the hail of arrows which held the Nether Queen’s soldiers back while Quill and I leapt into the river. I met her eyes, “You probably saved our lives.”

Her smiled broadened a little. “You’re welcome.”

I opened the satchel, surveying the contents as if I had any idea what I was looking for. Athrynel stood and came to look over my shoulder. “Do you know how to use this?” she asked, eyeing the kit.

“For wounds,” I replied, helplessly. “I grew up during a war.”

Hess moaned again and my eyes flew to her. She still had her head in her hands.

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you’d learn midwifery in peacetime either,” Athrynel clucked and crouched to sift through the satchel.

She pulled a couple bottles out, then pushed the rest of the satchel back to me. “Most of the men have one scratch or another, do what you can. I’ll stay with Hestria. You find me some blankets or something and hurry them up on that fire.”

“Do you know anything about midwifery?” I asked, picking up the satchel and gladly moving away.

“No,” Athrynel turned back to Hess. “But I helped a cow once, long ago. And someone will fetch Gyreon off patrol. He picked up some of his father’s physician trade before deciding war was easier.”

I didn’t know who Gyreon was and wasn’t sure how much help he’d be if he’d left doctoring because he preferred fighting. Perhaps still more helpful than me. I returned to rest of the cellar to find that Trinh had recovered somewhat from his shock. He and his knights were busy unwinding children from their individual bundles, chafing cold little hands back to warmth, and rearranging the clothes and blankets into a den where they could tuck all the children together for maximum warmth. I stole one of the blankets, and as an afterthought pulled the servant’s warm clothes out of my pack, carrying it all back to Athrynel and Hess. As I left them, a knight came barreling down the cellar stairs and straight past me to Hess. Gyreon, I guessed.

Ayglos was sitting at the table, his wounded arm hanging limp. I started pulling things out of the satchel. “Namal, help him take the uniform off.”

Namal joined us in the puddle of candlelight and helped Ayglos unfasten the buttons of the uniform and shrug it off his good shoulder. Ayglos leaned forward and just gritted his teeth as Namal peeled the blood stiff jacket off the wounded shoulder and down the arm. Domjoa would not be pleased we’d destroyed his expensive fake uniform. The shirt underneath was thoroughly dried to Ayglos’s skin, and after prying at it we decided to wait for water.

While we worked, the door opened again, and another knight came down the stairs. I was surprised to see another woman, this one with short, dirty blonde hair, wearing the same sort of clothes and armor as Athrynel. She carried a bundle of wood in her arms. She scanned the room till she found Trinh, and said, “We’ve got a little fire going, and I found a pot for boiling water. I think we should consider building a fire down here so the babes don’t catch their death.”

The knights had wrapped themselves in their cloaks and alighted around the bed of children like migratory birds. Hew was burrowed in the center of them, his nose and his tail just visible amongst the folds and mounds.

“There’s no chimney,” protested one of the knights.

“We could use the stairwell,” countered another.

“And leave poor Jasem and Rae’d stranded on patrol all day?” teased a third.

Trinh jumped in, “Jasem could jump over the fire—and Rae’d is very lucky, I’m sure he’d be fine.”

Gruff laughter rumbled through the flock of knights.

Laughter.

I dragged my eyes to Trinh, surprised to see a smile teasing at his mouth.

“The bigger problem is we’ll have to jump to get out,” someone said.

“Better rest up, then.” The blonde smiled and dumped her armload of wood right next to the stairs.

Quill emerged from the huddle to help the blonde set up a make shift hearth just a foot away from the stairs, and to prop the door at the top of the stairs so it stayed open wide enough to lure the smoke out.

While we waited, I laid out astringent, salve, and the few bandages we still had. Namal hunted down the pitcher and basin we’d used last time we were here. Then we sat shredding a sheet from the villa into long strips. Who knew cloth would become so precious to us?

And while we waited, Hess’s moans became cries.

Quill had just coaxed the flame to life when the blonde left again and returned carrying a steaming pot. She edged around the fledgling fire and brought the pot to the table, filling the pitcher and basin I’d set out. She took the pitcher and headed behind the furniture wall.

Then, like the bells of the Cathedral calling worshippers to prayer, the squalling of a baby filled the cellar, reverberating off the stone walls. We all stopped to listen. Relief blossomed so tangibly from the cluster in the blankets that I turned to look at them. Soft voices slowly soothed the crying behind the wall. Quill left the fire and went to stand hesitantly in the opening. Tarr should be here. Trinh was staring, obviously feeling responsible, but also uncertain what his role should be. Quill was family by blood. After a moment, Quill disappeared into the back.

I turned away and soaked a rag in the basin—the water was warm, but I doubted it had been boiled. I added a splash of astringent and set to work on Ayglos’s shoulder, wetting the shirt enough to peel it away, then off entirely. The throwing knife had left behind a fairly small slit, but it was deep. I cleaned the wound as gently as I could before pasting it with salve and awkwardly wrapping bandages around his entire shoulder and across his chest to get them to stay. Ayglos had a few other nicks and slashes, and I treated them all. He bore the sting with a few hisses, and Namal helped him re-dress with clothes Quill and I had brought from the apartment.

I did my best to clean out the cloth and Namal took away the basin to dump the water and refill it with clean water.

“Who’s next?” I asked the room.

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96-Blood and Blade

 

I felt her presence only a heartbeat before her voice slivered through the darkness, “Well, well, well. Look who we have here.”

I turned, fighting the irrational terror that assaulted my senses. Lamplight was already brushing her clothing as she approached, and I shifted my grip on my knives. I didn’t dare look over my shoulder where I could hear the clang and shuffle of Ayglos’s fight still going. Seconds, only seconds had passed since the fight started.

“Ambassador,” I said.

She stopped just as the light illuminated her eyes. She was dressed in leather armor, not the gown and layers of jewels that I’d expected. Her dark hair was pulled back in a braid and she carried two wicked fighting knives. My skin crawled at her aura even as thoughts of revenge thrilled through me.

“Regent, now,” corrected Khattmali. “I confess I’m surprised to see you here, Analie Meredithe…or should I say Zare Caspian.”

So, Bel had told her. The brooch felt like it might burn a hole through my armor.

“Is that betrayal I see in those eyes?” She laughed softly, “All my warnings about the charms of men, and you don’t heed a single one. Valredes is exceptional, isn’t he?”

I forced my lips to tip knowingly. Inside, I hated her for talking about him that way, and hated myself for caring.

She continued, “…and I almost didn’t believe Valredes when he told me.  After all this time I’d started to think Gillenwater had been lying about their catch, despite our problems with rabble rousers.” A measured glance behind me at the Huntsman slumped against the wall, dying. At the fight still going on beyond that. “How many are you?”

I didn’t answer.

Her eyes returned to me, coldly taking in the Galharan albatross emblazoned across my breastplate.  “Did Kegan know who you really were?”

“You don’t know? That must gall you,” I purred.

Khattmali’s lip curled, “To think I had a Galharim drugged and helpless in my control. You certainly convinced Valredes you were a harmless doe when that sap sent you back to your lover.” She struck, quick as a viper, but I dodged.

“Just Valredes?” I crooned back to her, throwing a strike of my own.

Khattmali blocked and countered.

“When did you sleep?” Khattmali asked, following up her strike with another which I barely parried, “Out all night causing trouble, then a king to please, and then making appearances around the palace—though,” she tipped her head, “Is that why we never saw Kegan’s little lover at court? Why you never bothered to politic?” Her dark eyes glinted, “How did you stomach sleeping with him after he ordered all those nymphs—your people—killed?”

Your order. “You’re just jealous,” I replied, trying a quick one-two attack, managing to rip her sleeve.  “Do Regents usually prowl around doing their own dirty work?” I asked, “Or are you in trouble for failing to control the King?”

“I was first of the Huntsmen and awarded my assignment here; It was a privilege to manage the wayward oaf of Dalyn, to rule in his place,” she moved closer again, “I would have seduced him eventually, but you interfered, and my Queen was done waiting. I was done waiting.”

My gut tightened at her inference that it was my fault they’d resorted to killing Tarr Kegan. “You’ll pay for what you did to him,” my voice was low as I again saw the light wink out of Tarr’s eyes.

“Unlikely,” Khattmali shrugged, her lips turning up at anger in my face. And then she struck so quickly I didn’t dodge fast enough. Her blade bit into my arm as I tripped over the fallen Huntsman. I pushed off the wall and ducked to strike low. Khattmali dodged easily and slashed back. She taunted, “How did it feel to watch your king die?”

It felt like hell, thanks for asking. Snarling I caught her knife with Azzad and slipped Shiharr though her defenses to leave a bleeding tear across her right arm. I would finish this. Blood trickled down from the gash above my bracers, I ignored it.

She spared her arm a glance and advanced on me again. A cruel sneer curled her lips, “You cared for him.”

We met in storm of blows, steel ringing with every strike until I feinted high with my knives and aimed a kick at her knee. Khattmali cried out as her knee cracked and buckled under the blow. Her guard waivered and I struck again, landing a hit on her good leg before realizing the trap. Her bared teeth were the only warning before her knife slammed into my chest, the force of the blow knocking my breath from me.

I stumbled back, stunned, and gasping down at the knife sticking out of my breastplate.

Khattmali watched me reel, then she straightened and took a step toward me on her smashed knee.

Holy Heaven. That shouldn’t be possible. I gaped, struggling for air like a fish on land.

Our eyes met, she said, “You won’t die. Yet. I have so many questions for you, we’ll spend a lot of time together these coming weeks.”

Shiharr and Azzad slipped from my fingers and I grasped the hilt of the knife in my chest. Gritting my teeth, I tried to yank it out but Khattmali launched herself at me, slamming my body against the wall. I couldn’t help the strangled cry as we both toppled to the floor with Khattmali on top. The knife in my chest was slammed aside by her weight. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs and arms around her before she could pull back and stab me again. I would not be staked to the floor until her minions came to help her. I would die here or not at all. Lessons from Quill in the squat little house in the garden came flooding back as Khattmali struggled to escape my grasp. I didn’t feel pain as I trapped one of her arms with both hands and shifted my legs, using her attempts to pull back to shift until I was controlling her shoulders and head in a vice. A vice that closed slowly, crushing Khattmali’s neck against her own shoulder until she stopped trying to free her hand and clawed at my legs trying to free her head. I laid both my hands on her hair and pulled down. Her fingers on her free hand fumbled with the knives strapped to my thighs. I let her.

I breathed slowly, surprised at the calm pulsing through my veins as I focused every last ounce of energy into holding her in place. Moments passed, her struggling subsided and her body sagged, but I kept holding. I needed to be sure.  Breathing hurt. My chest hurt. My energy began to fizzle out like kindling on wet wood. I wanted to sleep. I didn’t dare let go in case Khattmali was pretending. Or in case she wake up when I let go. I would not let go. I would hold until the world faded for me, too.

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Mourning

I sketched this scene out with watercolors the other week, it’s such poignant moment for Zare. The first real loss you see her face beyond doubt. Her city, the old life, even the other people in her life she’s lost or left behind were all “off screen.” Most, also, were almost a year behind her at the start of our story.

Zare and T.jpg
An icy vigil.

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91-The Tunnel

Before departing, we tossed the office. We left the windows open, and as a final touch Rakov smashed the lock on the door. If any of our people came back to the warehouse, they ought to see the door and windows and stay away. If they got all the way inside, they shouldn’t linger. I sent Domjoa off with a long list of tasks—including finding out what had become of my men who’d been distracting the garrison. The rest of us followed Trinh through the city.

There were still crowds in the streets, but the atmosphere had changed. It was only a matter of hours from the King’s death, but the column of smoke from the palace was much bigger and darker than the ones from the celebratory bonfires throughout the city. Rumors of soldiers on a manhunt poisoned the revelry and leached the joy out of the night.  The closer we got to the palace, the thinner and more furtive the crowds, until it was just the five of us slinking in the darkness between streetlamps.

Trinh took an unexpected turn down an alley to the left, then he stopped and shifted some garbage bins around. Rakov stepped up to help and I tried not to think about the smells in the alley around us. The men grunted and metal clanked as they hauled open a sewer grate. I moaned at the thought of the things found in sewers as I watched Rakov nimbly sit on the lip and then drop from view. I didn’t hear a splash, but maybe I was deaf. Ayglos approached the hole, then after only a second’s hesitation followed Rakov. I made myself step up to the hole and peer into the darkness, Rakov stood maybe eight feet below, holding a hooded lantern. I didn’t see water, but I did see a ladder, which the men had forgone. Not to be outdone, I sat on the lip and then jumped into the hole, bending my knees and tucking into a roll before I could think through the wisdom of such a move. I bounced back to my feet, still on dry stone. Mercy of heaven. The lantern splashed patterns on the cylindrical room, and revealed two dark passages, one leading north toward the palace, one leading west.

Quill dropped in, then Trinh climbed down using the ladder as he lowered the grate.

“It’s not connected to the sewer,” said Trinh, answering everyone’s unasked question. “Though it does drain into the sewer.” He took lantern from Rakov and started down the northbound tunnel at a brisk jog, Quill behind him, then me, then Ayglos and Rakov.

The air was dank, but not foul. The tunnel was so narrow that occasionally Rakov’s scabbard scraped against the stones. The walls were dotted with carvings. Kings, castles, hunting parties, dragons, knights…I wondered if they told one story or many. Trinh led us with unfaltering steps through several junctions, as if he knew these tunnels very well. This must be how he went in and out of the palace so readily. Perhaps also how he got into the city without being seen that first time after he woke up.

Trinh stopped abruptly, holding up his hand to hold back the rest of us. Quiet, inconsistent murmurs accompanied by the occasional shuffle drifted back from around the bend ahead. Dousing the lamp, we edged forward until we were close enough that Quill exclaimed, “It’s Vaudrin!” and slipped by Trinh before any of us could react.

Trinh turned up the lamp and moved forward as cries of joy greeted Quill. Around the bend, the tunnel was strewn with men in blue uniforms who were scrambling to their feet. They saluted Quill, but when they saw Trinh they whipped to face him instead. Hope lit their faces at the sight of a living Kegan. Their uniforms were splattered with blood, and almost all of them were bandaged one place or another. Several of the standing men were missing shirts under their blue coats. The shirts, I realized, had been sacrificed to bandage the wounded. My heart twisted as I remembered days traveling with these men. I flinched for my pack. I still had the satchel from Boitumelo—I hadn’t used it since leaving Rhydderhall—but there was no way I could treat this many.

At a word from Trinh the men sunk back to the floor, exhaustion evident in their every move. Trinh and Ayglos walked to join Quill and Vaudrin in the center of the tunnel. Rakov stayed behind me.

I stopped at the first man and crouched to inspect the bandage on his arm—I met his eye and smiled at him, as if there was anything I could do about his wounds. I smoothed his hair off his forehead and he smiled back at me. I stood and turned to another man before I could drown in the emotions rising inside.

Vaudrin bowed to his King, “I am glad to see you, your Majesty, and your Highnesses.”

“I feared there would be no one,” Trinh was talking, “How many did you save?” Not, ‘how many did we lose.’

“I have forty here, only the men who could run were able to escape when we withdrew from the ballroom. The Queen must have expected the guard to react violently to the King’s murder, for she had us outnumbered at least three to one, and her army was clearly ready and waiting for the order to move in.” Vaudrin shook his head. “Jemin and I were lucky to pull out this many.”

Jemin.

I hadn’t gotten very far down the tunnel—stopping at each man to wish I could help him with more than a gentle touch—but now I stood and looked for the burly form of the guard with whom I’d stormed Gillenwater’s garrison.

“There is a chance the men in the barracks were able to escape to one of the other tunnels.” Vaudrin continued. “I have sent two of my men through the tunnels to see if they can find any others.”

I spied a hulk on the floor just past the conference of princes and hurried forward. Quill and Ayglos made room for me to pass and I dropped to my knees next to Jemin. He smiled wearily at me. Alive.

“Your Highness,” his voice was tired but lacked the rasp of death.

Tears pressed on my eyes and choked my breath, it took me a moment to manage, “Are you hurt?” I didn’t know why I felt so overwhelmed to find a friend survived even when I’d forgotten to worry for his life.

“I’ll look like a spotted cow tomorrow I’ve got so many giant bruises,” replied the guard. “But I’ll be alright.”

“We have returned for Naran and Hestria,” explained Trinh, and I blinked at Hesperide’s real name.

Vaudrin nodded, his expression turning grim. “I wish I could tell you where they were.”

“I believe they are still in the palace; we will find them or find where they are.” Trinh looked around the company, then said, “Focus on getting these men out. Fade into the countryside. Head for Magadar. If you find the men from Gillenwater, tell them the same.”

Vaudrin looked surprised. “My King, we’re leaving?”

“I will not lose more men in this fight,” replied Trinh, the blankness of his expression more frightening than anger, “You’re leaving. That’s an order.”

I waited for someone to argue with him, but no one did. Our plan for Naran’s rescue hadn’t factored them in, they were battered and had suffered heavy losses. Magadar seemed far for a regroup, but perhaps it was best given the Queen’s armies closing in on the city.

“Are we ready to go, then?” asked Ayglos after a moment’s silence.

Trinh nodded, and after clasping Vaudrin’s hand, he turned and led the way again down the tunnel.

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90-the apartment

Trinh led the way as we skulked through the darkest shadows. Once or twice we cut through buildings to avoid passing near a patrol. There weren’t as many as I’d expected. Perhaps we’d left the palace in more disarray than I’d thought…or else things had been relaxed for the festival and the military had yet to mobilize fully. It wouldn’t last, but for now we moved quickly. At least until we reached the warehouse where our little apartment was.

Then we waited.

After a few eternities standing in the cold watching for movement or patrols, we scouted the alleys and rooftops. Then, when we found nothing, Quill and I crossed the street. I unlocked the door and Quill stepped in first. He quickly searched the office, then darted upstairs to search up there. I closed and locked the door behind us.

Doubtless, we would have employed this caution regardless. After all, we didn’t know what had become of Lucius Tene, the King’s Guard, or even Domjoa. However, I’d told Bel Valredes my name, and Bel knew where we lived. I could still see the utter incredulity in Namal’s eyes when I’d confessed. As if I’d instead told him I’d decided to marry the noble.

I had spread my hands defensively, “I was angry. He knew what she was going to…that she would…” I couldn’t say it.

“So you decided to trust him with your big secret?” Namal had retorted, aghast.

“No!” I exclaimed, then took a deep breath, trying to be measured, “I called him a traitor. I was angry.”

“Damn it, Zare, he was always a traitor—why did you think differently?” my brother’s voice rose in frustration.

My anger mingled with shame and helplessness. “He might not be evil” really didn’t feel sufficient as an explanation. Nor did “I’m tired of lies.”

“It’s clear,” Quill called from the top of the stairs.

Brought back to the present, I ran up the stairs. Quill had lit the lamp which hung on the wall, the flame was turned down quite low, but it felt bright after the night. I had the trunk unlocked in a moment, and we started pulling out the armor, clothing and bags of money and heaping them on the closest bed. Quill started packing and I grabbed my clothes and armor and went behind him to change. “Don’t look,” I said.

“My lady,” acknowledged Quill, sorting the bounty.

Tarr’s pendant with the sailing ships swung as I stripped off my daggers and ill-fitting clothes.  I shivered as the cool damp of my hair—now contained by a braid—touched my back. Then my fingers touched the cold metal of Bel’s brooch. I nearly threw it across the room. I had thrown it when I’d found it at the villa, still pinned to my trousers. Then I’d wasted several minutes hunting for it on the floor. The brooch might be useful, and it would be silly to get rid of it now.  I pinned the brooch to my shirt before pulling it over my head.  It might as well be within easy reach.

Behind me, Quill said, “Don’t look,” and I heard his shoes drop to the floor, “Namal’s got a lot of clothes in here.”

I narrowly restrained the reflex to look over my shoulder. “Probably not enough to dress all twelve of you, though,” I replied, “Will his armor fit you?”

I slipped on my boots and started buckling on my thigh scabbards.

Quill snorted, “No, that armor was custom made for him.” His feet thunked to the floor again and he walked around the bed to stand in front of me. “The rest of his clothes fit, though.” He was dressed in a shirt and pants that might have been black, and while they weren’t fancy, they were nicer, better fitting, and darker than what he’d had on before. He hadn’t buttoned the collar and he looked like a rogue. It was a good look for him.

“Help me buckle?” I said, turning away to pick up my breastplate. Quill stepped forward, stopping when the lamplight flashed on the brooch.

“Don’t you start,” I growled. “The Valredes crest might be useful. That’s all.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he replied, reaching to help guide the breastplate over my head.

“Out loud.”

He started with the buckles and I contorted to don on my vambraces.

“Why did you tell him your name?”

“I was angry.”

“Do you always spill your guts when you’re angry?”

I shot Quill a look. He shot it back.

“I wanted to hurt him with what he’d done,” I said tersely. “It was stupid and I regret it.”

“You think he really cares for you?”

“I think he probably cared for Analie.”

Quill finished with the buckles and stood back to survey me.

I resisted the urge to cross my arms. “I don’t think he’s all bad.”

“I don’t think many of the men we’ve killed tonight were.” Quill looked me in the eye, “I wouldn’t worry about Valredes. He would have figured out something was up when you started stabbing people, anyway.”

A crash reverberated in the office below. Quill was faster than I was, whipping out a knife and darting down the stairs. I paused to grab the lantern off the hook before following him. Two men were struggling in the office, one was clearly the better fighter and had his opponent pinned to the desk—the ledgers were scattered across the floor. I recognized both men, “Domjoa!” I exclaimed.

“Rakov! It’s alright!” cried Quill at the same moment, sheathing his knife and rushing to intervene before Rakov plastered Domjoa’s face with his fist.

The knight stepped back reluctantly. “We saw him pick the lock and enter the warehouse, I was sent to make sure he didn’t get the jump on you.”

“Thank you,” said Quill.

I hurried to help Domjoa peel himself off the desk. “Are you alright?”

Domjoa straightened his collar, “I’m fine, no thanks to this gentleman.”

“Rakov, this is the Princess’s Thief, Domjoa.” Quill gestured between them, “Domjoa, this is Rakov of the King’s Knights.”

The men eyed each other, then Domjoa turned to me. “What happened at the palace, your Highness?”

“The Queen killed the King before the ball even started, we did not kill her, the palace caught fire, and now we’re racing to rescue the King’s true heir from her before she brings him to Hirhel.” Might as well get it all out.

The thief took a breath, “Is that all?”

“So far. Were you successful?”

A sparkle entered Domjoa’s blue eyes. “Perhaps, your Highness.”

“Good, I need your uniform.”

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89-Into Darkness

 

We left as soon as the men could move. By some mercy we had not been descended upon by hordes of black clad soldiers, though we’d taken the time to thoroughly ransack the villa for supplies. There had only been a handful of horses in the stable, but Namal and most of the knights took them and blazed a trail leading away from the city. Something for the Queen’s soldiers to follow. When they were done being decoys, they’d send the horses on their way, meet up with Trinh’s marksmen, and circle around to the ruins of Rhydderhall to await our return.

I crouched under the bridge to the city between Quill and Trinh. One of Trinh’s knights, a black-haired man named Rakov, was crouched on Trinh’s other side.  Ayglos had gone ahead to steal us a little boat, and there was nothing to do while we waited.  My pack scraped against the stone behind us. It was a miracle we’d gotten this far, picking our way along the stone banks of the river, doing our best to not disturb the snow. The bridge above our heads was lit with so many torches it was one thin strip of day slashed across the river. It had taken a great deal of patience and timing to cross the patch of barren shoreline close to the bridge without being seen. Guards patrolled the road, and we’d heard two mounted companies pass overhead since we’d been here. At least the light above us made the darkness deeper where we hid.

I stared at the dark water of the Bandui, thinking of Tarr’s body, wrapped tightly in stolen sheets. He was strapped to the back of a horse, surrounded by bundles of damp clothes, and unable to enjoy participating in the adventure. So much had happened so quickly. Tarr would be entombed at Rhydderhall. For now, it was the best we could offer him. There hadn’t been time to mourn—or time to rejoice and find out how Ayglos had managed to show up at the right moment. I grimaced. There had been words tossed around while ransacking a winterized villa making frantic new plans, that was all. I’d had no trouble outfitting myself with warm clothes from the combined dressers of all the female servants. The men, though, had had a harder time of it, being as there were a lot more of them. I hugged the bundle of Ayglos’s clothes to my chest. We didn’t have spares, so Ayglos had left his clothes behind on his pirating mission.

The waves on the Bandui sloshed, evidence that boats were moving around somewhere nearby. The river would be busy tonight, especially by the palace. There were waters to search, bodies to dredge, shores to patrol…With my free hand, I caressed the water with my fingertips.

“Zare, are you alright?” Quill’s voice was low.

I looked back at him, not that I could see him in the darkness. “Are you?”

I heard the grimace as he said, “Fair point.”

“What happened in there?” I asked, “How did you get separated?”

The river filled the silence before Quill replied, “When we arrived at the anterooms,” his voice was so heavy, “She said she wanted to speak with him alone.”

Of course, it was that easy. She was the High Queen.

“I came as soon as I heard they’d entered the ballroom without summoning us. When I walked in she already had the knife.” The weight of his failure was tangible in every word, and I felt it gathering in my chest.

I shifted closer to him, cautiously reaching out to find his hand. “There wasn’t anything you could have done. She drew the knife pretty much immediately.”

Quill closed his hand around mine, and I felt myself growing warmer at the strength in his touch.  After a moment he said, “Thank you for coming for me. I probably wouldn’t have survived if you hadn’t come charging over like you did.”

My mind immediately painted a vision of Quill lying dead in the ballroom. I shuddered, closing my eyes to shut out the image behind them. But to Quill I said, “You owe me again.”

“Owe you? I think that makes us even.”

“How’s that?”

He tapped his fingers on my arm to count, “You saved me in Gillenwater, I saved you at the Cymerie, then I saved you again after our little jailbreak, and now you’ve saved me here.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I’m not sure about the jailbreak.”

“Do you think your criminals would have brought you back to the palace where you could recover in style, in character, and with a proper doctor?”

“What about how I kept your wounds from rotting?” I replied, “You were not an easy patient.”

Quill scoffed, “I would have been fine.”

“Something’s coming,” Trinh interrupted.

I put my hand back in the river. He was right. A tiny boat crept along the city’s bank. We held our breath as it crossed the torchlit waters until it finally passed into the shadow of the bridge and disappeared. My spirit was lighter as I drew myself into a crouch and listened to the faint slap of the waves against the boat as it came directly across the river’s current. Moments later, the dark form of a rowboat nosed up to the bank, then Ayglos—a mere black shape himself—surfaced and propped his elbows on the stones. “Need a ride?” I didn’t need to see him to know the satisfied grin on his face.

“Did you have any trouble?” asked Trinh quietly.

“No,” replied Ayglos, “the wharfs are too extensive for them to have a strong net yet. But you’d better get in, the sooner we go, the better.”

We obeyed. Trinh and Rakov, first, then Quill and myself. The men lay down, feet to shoulders, in the bottom, squished together uncomfortably. I spread a blanket over them, and half over myself, curled up in a ball at the stern. If any eyes saw us, hopefully this dark mass would only be a shadow in the night. As soon as we were situated, Ayglos disappeared under the water and towed us into the current. The Bandui did most of the rest, carrying the boat swiftly away from the bridge and its light. I watched the city pass by; the faint glow of celebratory bonfires mingled with the lamplight from windows and carriages. I wondered how many were still celebrating, and how quickly word of the events at the palace would spread through the city.

Eventually, the lights thinned, and we reached the dark, low buildings of the warehouse district. Ayglos guided us in from the center of the river, choosing a smaller wharf full of fishing boats. I wondered if they all belonged to the Valredes family. As soon as we were close enough, I stood and hopped onto the dock, catching the side of the boat and pulling it in. The three men were quick to follow. In a moment Ayglos, too, was standing on the dock dripping puddles everywhere while he untied the rope from his waist that connected him to the boat.

I handed my brother a towel from my pack. He accepted and hurriedly dried off before dressing again with the clothes I handed him. The puddles were turning to ice when we left the docks and faded into the black of the desolate warehouses.

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