by Nick Martell
I collapsed onto the dock laughing as my friends composed themselves. Kai coughed up water as High Noble Margaux patted him on the back. We were all alive, and I was grateful, and the river seemed calmer now that we weren’t on it. The rough waves that had crashed against the nearby rocks seemed like a gentle sway from here. Everything had changed so fast, but it turned out it was manageable when I wasn’t alone.
“Where’s the boat?” I asked, standing up. The dock creaked beneath me.
High Noble Margaux pounded her fist against her chest and then pointed to the nearby rocks. “Hit the rocks when you were under. Blasted to bits… we all grabbed the rope and hoped you got to land. When did you learn how to swim?”
“I didn’t.” I coughed. “Learned not to drown.”
Kai chuckled from his prone position, leaning over the dock. “I’m never going near the water again.”
I started to inspect the metal grate blocking the entrance, shaking the bars. They were sturdy, and there wasn’t much rust. It wasn’t old enough that it would break from just my hands alone. “How are we supposed to—”
High Noble Margaux waved me out of the way. She rolled back her sleeves, and then punched through the metal lock holding the door in place. It was more brittle than I thought, or she was much stronger. It was hard to know for certain. Things were always muddled around her. She swung the door open and looked back at us. “You three coming?”
We entered the keep through the basement, a steady stream of water lapping gently against the bricks of the walkway. Moss covered the brick above the waterline and everything smelled damp as we crept toward the upper floors. Nothing was locked, but just as I was about to head upstairs to the main hall, Kai grabbed my shoulder and said, “Hold on, Michael.”
“What?”
“We need a plan in case everything goes wrong up there.”
I paused. “If someone gets shot, hit the Mercenary until he falls down and doesn’t get up again.”
Kai shook his head and we continued up the stairs until I could open the door a crack. Beyond, there was a fire in the hearth that was out of control. Dark sat in front of it, prodding it with a poker as shadows danced all over the walls. There was a still body next to the hearth. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew it was Sirash… it had to be him. If only I could see his chest rise to know he was well.
The moment I stepped into the main hall, Dark shouted, “You’re early, Michael. You must’ve received my letter.”
I signaled for everyone to wait behind the door, and they backed away while I took a breath and advanced further into the main hall. “Didn’t want to be late! There’s a blockade on the Isle. Something about a trial. Not sure if you heard about it while you were busy kidnapping my friend.”
The fire crackled. “The first time we were here you made a mistake: you took something that belonged to me. I gave you multiple opportunities to return it, so this time I ensured you couldn’t run unless you were willing to lose a friend.”
“I was always going to return it.”
“Then your friend has nothing to worry about,” he said. “So long as you give me what’s mine.”
“I have it,” I said, heart racing, “but you wanted to frame me, didn’t you? You wanted me to take the fall for what was in the envelope, so let’s stop the runaround and all the games. Lay your cards bare and tell me what’s so important about this ring.”
Dark didn’t stop looking at the fire despite lowering the poker to his side. “Lay your cards bare? You’ve never been this confident before, Michael. I wonder what’s changed… but don’t flatter yourself. Any fool could have seen that the ring was what I wanted, although it took you longer to figure that out, so what… ah, tell your companions to come out and say hello. The Ryder, Margaux, and the other. Have some manners, Michael.”
I cursed under my breath as they all emerged, and we stood in a ragged line.
Dark still hadn’t turned around yet. For a moment the only sound in the keep was the crackling fire and our footsteps, and then slowly, and with a groan, he slapped his hands against his thighs and rose to his feet. He cracked his knuckles and then stretched his arms.
“I’ll take my ring back.”
“How do I know you won’t hurt Sirash once you have it?”
“Because I would have killed him already if I didn’t plan to let him live. Just saying I had him was enough to make you come running.”
He wasn’t wrong. “How do you want to do this?”
Dark extended an empty palm toward me. “Hand it to me, and you can have your friend back.”
I felt the warmth slither over my skin again, nullifying my body on reflex. I didn’t quite know how it worked, but it seemed like the right thing to do. After nodding to Gwen, I walked toward Dark, the distance between us seemingly vast. I’d seen what he could do; I’d seen the sheer carnage he wrought on a brigade of Scales. But I wasn’t going to put my head down as I walked toward him. I had to be brave—if not for myself then for Sirash. I wouldn’t let him see my fear, those days were behind me. I was a Kingman, and I had people to protect.
I put the glass ring in the center of his palm.
Dark closed his hand slowly around it. He closed his eyes, muttered something to himself, and then said, “Well, that’s that, then. Your friend is all yours and our business is concluded. If you had only done this days ago, I wouldn’t have been forced to kidnap your friend and threaten your family. Apologize to your siblings for me.”
I didn’t care what Dark had to say; I was already kneeling by Sirash.
He was still leaning against the stone next to the hearth. His eyes were closed but his breathing was steady. That was the only thing that looked right about him, though. Half-healed, jagged scars covered his body and his right cheek was badly burned, the scab still red and flaky. His copper skin was pale and he seemed leaner, all skin and bone and muscle.
I ran my hand over his good cheek, and he inhaled sharply, winced, and turned away from me. He looked mangled, malnourished, and broken. If only I’d gotten to him sooner.
The warmth remained on my body as I rose to meet Dark again. “Did you do this to him?”
Dark shook his head. “Found him like that when they were transporting him out of the dungeons. The Executioner Division must’ve grabbed him when he tried to escape that night. Unfortunate, since they were most likely torturing him for information about me, which, clearly, he didn’t have. On the bright side, he’s probably the first person to ever make it out of the castle dungeons alive.”
“Why would someone in the castle care about a Mercenary like you? It’s not as if they can arrest you for crimes against the country.”
“They can still kill me. Or attempt to. You’ve seen what happens when they try.” Dark held his hands over the fire. My friends were beginning to cross the distance between us now that it was clear he wasn’t looking for a fight.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Nor was it supposed to.”
“It’s your father, isn’t it? You want to keep your mother’s ring from him; he’s the one you wanted Trey to kill. Is your father scared you could be traced back to him? Is that why Scales sent a squad after you? Did someone pull some strings to try and take you out?”
Dark didn’t respond, still staring into the fire.
As the flames danced across his face, I realized that, despite his dark hair and his grey eyes, he spoke and carried himself a little like a High Noble from Hollow. It could be something he’d learned from a young age… and it wasn’t impossible that Dark was a bastard son of one of the High Noble families. There were always rumors, and if hundreds were speculated upon, the odds were one had to be true. If Dark was illegitimate, it would explain why his father was after him and the ring: a bastard son, a Mercenary no less, would be shameful in their civilized society. It might compel the father to destroy any trace of their connection.
“Who is your father?” I asked.
For t
he second time he didn’t respond, offering only a slight upward curl of a lip to indicate he had heard me.
My friends had reached us. High Noble Margaux and Gwen went to check on Sirash, both knowing more about medicine than I did. Kai stayed with me. Dark had begun to pack up his things, seemingly uninterested in anything that would happen from here on out. He had what he had come for; nothing else mattered.
There was little I could do but watch both scenes unfold in front of me, unable to contribute to either. Anxious, I played with the spent bullet Naomi’s father had given me. It still amazed me that this stupid little metal thing had caused so much damage. It barely seemed significant in a world populated by children who could summon hurricanes and adults who could spin lies that eclipsed the truth. And yet bullets and guns and gunpowder had been hailed as the great equalizer of our world, reducing those who used magic to the same page as everyone else.
It was no wonder they had been outlawed in Hollow. The nobility wanted to retain power and gunpowder diminished them to humans masquerading as gods instead of the forces of nature they had seemed before. It amazed me that people had the audacity to mark them. It was as if they wanted people to know who had created them and who was responsible for the devastation they caused. Even this one was marked, with a crown being ripped apart at the side by a pair of hands.
My heart stopped.
A crown being ripped apart… the same etching that was on the bullet that killed Davey Hollow. I’d read about it. And this bullet had to have been custom-made for the gun; it wouldn’t fit any other. But it was impossible. The gun that killed Davey was a one-of-a-kind. How could Dark have one that could shoot the same bullet? Either his gun had killed Davey or it had a twin… a twin that could be connected back to the person who had the gun, or guns, before they had been used to kill Davey.
This entire time Dark had exactly what I was looking for. A gun that I had seen repeatedly while being unaware of its significance, though it had nearly killed me and had wounded Naomi. A gun of unknown origin that might belong to a High Noble’s bastard son… and which might have been used to kill—
I pushed those thoughts aside, unable to deal with them.
All I knew for certain was that Dark had a connection to my father and Davey Hollow’s murder. If I could get his gun, I could convince Gwen it was the one that had murdered Davey and finally give her some peace. We could leave Hollow…
…but, after all this, would I be able to leave Hollow without knowing for certain my father was guilty? It wasn’t just the ramblings of a drunk Immortal anymore. Respectable members of noble society believed it, too, and didn’t I have a duty to find the truth… as a Kingman and as a son?
Sadly, there was only one way to learn it.
“Dark. Hold on. I need your help.”
The Mercenary turned to me, as did the others.
“I want to hire you to break me into the Royal Tower of Hollow Castle.”
My family may have been at war with God for generations, and I distrusted organized religion, but it still felt like making a deal with a daemon when Dark smiled and said, “Tell me more.”
IMPASSE
Needless to say, everyone thought I was batshit crazy.
Gwen was the loudest. “Michael, what the fuck? You want to break into the castle with a Mercenary?”
“He kidnapped your friend!” Kai added.
“I’m just as surprised as you are,” Dark said. “But I won’t turn him down if he wants to hire me. They can’t charge me the same way they can him.” He had a dagger in hand.
High Noble Margaux was quiet, still examining Sirash as she listened to the conversation.
“I don’t have any other option,” I said. “I have to break into the castle and I need his help to do it.”
“It’s treason, Michael,” Kai said. “If you get caught, you’ll be executed before first light.”
“Maybe. But I punched the Corrupt Prince last night, and nothing has happened to me yet.”
“Yet,” Kai declared. “No doubt he’s planning something to get back at you and Gwen.”
“What do you want in the castle so much that you’re considering hiring a Mercenary to help you get it?” Dark asked.
“The truth about what happened to my father. The reason he confessed and pleaded guilty was never released to the public, and if it was recorded anywhere, it’ll be in the king’s memories. I’m tired of being ashamed of my last name. I need to know what really happened,” I explained.
“As interesting as that sounds, I—”
“And I want to know more about your gun.”
“My gun?”
“It’s either the gun that killed Davey Hollow—which was supposed to be one-of-a-kind—or its twin,” I said. “Anything you can tell me about it could lead back to the person who framed my father. If someone did.”
“What?” I heard my sister whisper.
The Mercenary ignored her. “Why would I tell you anything about my gun? What’s in it for me?”
“Consider it part of our deal.”
Everyone was silent.
“Walk with me and we’ll talk. Alone.”
I was astonished as I followed Dark into my former room. That had worked? Holy shit, that had worked! How had that worked?
“You don’t think it was me? Have you considered that I might be responsible for your father’s and Davey Hollow’s death?”
I looked him up and down. He was a Mercenary, an enigma, and a nightmare. But I knew it wasn’t him. He was too young—only a few years older than I was. Why would a child murder a prince and frame my father for it? I was looking for someone like him, for sure. Only older.
“No, I don’t.”
“Why n—”
“I’m not looking to manipulate someone. I just want the truth. Is that the gun that killed Davey Hollow, or its twin?”
Dark reached under his jacket and pulled out the gun. After a slight pause, he flipped the butt toward me. “Consider this an apology for not taking the gun away from the prince sooner. This gun is the twin.”
I took the pistol from him. It was a single-action long-barreled pistol with a bone grip. It was nicked and marked but felt smooth to the touch. It could hold six bullets in a cylinder compartment and was a little weightier than I expected, and the bullets in it were different. It didn’t need black powder as the others did. It was special. And its twin had killed Davey Hollow.
“Why is this gun so much more advanced than any of the others I’ve seen before?”
“It’s called a revolver, and it’s a prototype. There’s only one other like it.”
“How did you get it?”
“I stole it from a nobody who claimed to have made it.”
“To have made both of them?”
“Yes. But he was lying.”
“How do you know? Who was it?”
Dark held out his hand for the gun. Once he had it again, he said, “Someone long since dead.”
“Tell me.”
“What’re you going to do, Michael? Dig up his grave? Track down his next of kin? Try to find some clue in his life that may or may not advance your agenda? That’s not how it works. There’s no proof he made them, he can’t admit it, and, like I said, he probably lied about it anyway. There’s no one left alive who knows who made them.”
“Someone must.”
Dark shook his head as he holstered his revolver. “Go home, Michael. Kiss a girl, laugh with your friends, and hug whatever family you have left. Grow up and act like you’re worthy of the life you keep trying to throw away.”
He began to walk away, uninterested in the job I had proposed to him. Only I couldn’t let him leave, not when I was so close. One more clue. That’s all it would take. Just one more. So, instead of relying on logic, I took a chance and said, “All I want is to get into the Royal Tower. Name your price.”
He turned, and his cold eyes stared straight into mine… cold, and yet there was a life behind them. A look I c
ouldn’t quite explain, like why that ring was so important to him. “Are you certain you want to say those words to me?”
“Yes,” I said. I had never said a word so quickly or confidently before. It was like striking iron and commanding thunder in one word. It felt good.
“Imbecile. You know it will never be as simple as you think it will be.”
“I didn’t ask for a lecture,” I said. “Name your price or go. I’ll do it on my own if I have to.”
Which was a complete and utter lie, but he didn’t know that.
Dark crossed his arms and looked at me silently. Maybe he was judging me or assessing how serious I was. Breaking into the castle wasn’t going to be easy. Even if we got in and out without trouble, someone would come after us. And with the entire city under curfew and security tightened after the riots on the Isle, it was a terrible night to try it. It would be impossible to get to the castle without being spotted. By all logic, it would be the worst night to do so. But I had to. I had to know the truth if I was going to leave Hollow.
“Besides storming through the front door, I don’t know any other way into the castle,” he said slowly. “Would your friend know?”
“Who?”
“Whatever his name is. Burn boy. The one who was tortured.”
Sirash? Was he talking about Sirash? “How would he know a way in?”
“He wouldn’t—not intentionally,” Dark said. “But he was being held in the dungeons beneath the castle, and I’ve heard rumors of secret pathways all over that monstrosity. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a water entrance just like the one in this keep. But without knowing where it emerges, it’s suicide. We’d be walking in blind.”
“What makes you think Sirash would know where this waterway leads? Or want to help us? He’s been through enough. I don’t want to put him into any more danger.”