by Brad Carsten
Kaylyn looked aghast. “I never thought about the other kingdoms. I always thought that we were bringing stability to the other kingdoms by preventing them from going to war. I always thought... Well, I guess they don't have to worry about us anymore. The kingdom can hardly keep its own lands safe anymore, so it can't set its eyes on anyone else even if it wanted to. Perhaps things will change for them now, and perhaps that will destroy us in the end.”
“Yeah, and it's all thanks to that Thomwyn git,” Quinn said, stuffing two goatberries into his mouth. “Ever since he forced his way onto the throne, the kingdom's gone to the midden heap.”
“Thomwyn didn't force his way onto the throne,” Kaylyn said. “Is that really what people are saying?”
“Of course. Everyone knows it. Throw a stick in a tavern, and you'll find someone whispering about it. Let me tell you, the people are getting angry about it.”
“Well, they're wrong. Quinn, when the king died, and the nightspawn arrived, prince Thomwyn stepped in and did what he needed to do. He’s keeping those things at bay. Every day, that's all he does is fight them. If not for him, this whole kingdom would be overrun by now.”
“That's not what I heard.” Quinn lowered his voice like he always did when he had a juicy morsel to share. “A man came to Brigwell a few years ago—a noble. He said he was in Norindale when it happened, and everyone there said that Thomwyn had slipped one in the king's side during the first attack. Think about it, I wouldn't blame him. Power is quite a temptress. Ask me, I'm the most powerful man in our village.” The goatberry juice had stained his lips purple, making it even more impossible to take him seriously.
“That's treason talk! You could be strung up for even suggesting such a thing! And no, I don't think that happened at all.”
Quinn didn't seem to notice her darkening mood; he had never been very good at discerning these things, and he chatted on about the prince like a rabbit hopping towards a wolf's jaws. “Why do you think they still call him Prince Thomwyn and not King Thomwyn? It's because the houses don't recognise him as king.”
“Stop it. Stop saying that.” She got so upset, she threw the goatberry at his head, and that finally snapped him out of it.
“What was that for?”
“He's still prince Thomwyn, because he doesn't want the throne. That's the point. You know what, just—” She clenched her fists in frustration. “He's so exasperating.”
“That's just what people are saying,” Liam said, “that's all. We're loyal to the throne and to prince Thomwyn.” He shot Quinn a warning look. “He's a good general, and we know he's holding the kingdom together during this time. Really, we do.”
She carried herself as a noble woman and had said some things that went against popular thought. That made him think she had powerful friends, and careless words could get a man into trouble. What also disturbed him though was how loyal she was to the throne. The wretched weren't allowed in the kingdom. They had a price on their heads. On top of that, many people believed they had brought the nightspawn into the world, and those people would gladly put an arrow through their hearts without a thought. If anyone had a reason to hate the royal family it was her.
She looked to Quinn for confirmation, and he held up his hands placatingly. “I honestly don't know what to believe, but your aim is impeccable, so I'll try not to bring it up again.”
“Good.” Her shoulders relaxed. “I'm sorry about the goatberry. Here,” she handed him a handkerchief.
“That was a good throw; I'll give you that.” He dabbed the pulp off the side of his head.
“Yes, that was a good throw, wasn't it?”
Liam grew ever more uneasy as they approached the massive gates. Kaylyn had somehow brought those things down on the village, and now they were heading right back into a town full of people. At least Highton had decent walls and a good watch.
The town seemed older, more neglected than when Liam had last visited eight years back. Litter, from both animals and people, lined the streets. A lot had changed in eight years. The taxes in Highton were high and most of it headed straight to the capital to finance the war. War sucked resources like a man sucking the marrow out of a bone, and this one had continued for far too long already.
By the time they entered the town, Kaylyn was fading fast. The burst of energy from the elixir had dissipated, and her head kept dipping forward. Liam had to get to an inn before she dropped off her horse completely.
Highton was bigger than Lyndwon—a lot bigger, and as they rode through the gate, Quinn's jaw fell open. He had never seen a town this large before. “Look at this place. Look at these buildings.” His head turned, trying to see everything at once. “How do they squeeze them all in like this?”
“Wait till you see Norindale,” Liam laughed.
“It can't be bigger than this, surely?”
“Oh, this is nothing. The capital makes this look like Cofry.”
The streets of Highton were still bustling as evening settled over the town. On horses, Liam and the others were lifted mostly above the crowds. For Liam, who spent his days outdoors, the streets seemed too narrow and the houses seemed to press in around him like he had slipped into a tight hole in the ground.
The Paldrin inn stood five stories tall like a stone tower. Quinn whistled through his teeth, as his eyes climbed up to the eves. “Five! There are five floors. How did they manage to build that! Do you think it’s safe?”
“Well, it hasn't fallen over yet.” Liam looked at Kaylyn whose head had flopped forward, and her eyes were closed. “I can't say as much for this one though.”
They had to help her out the saddle and escort her up to her room. Unfortunately, the only rooms left were at the top of the inn, and so they had to all but carry her up the many flights of stairs. Quinn kept glancing over the balustrade, and each time he'd shake his head and mumble to himself. Four stories up, he drew the ring of protection around his forehead.
Like everything in town, each room cost ten times that of the Old Grove inn in Brigwell, so Quinn and Liam shared, and they got Kaylyn her own just two doors away.
She thanked them for everything through giant yawns and flopped down onto her bed, and they had to pull her up again so that she could lock the door behind them.
It was still early, and Liam and Quinn went downstairs for something to eat. Fat congealed on the top of the gravy and the meat tasted like a saddle, but after not eating all day, they attacked it like hounds fighting over a sausage.
Liam bought some bread and jam and a flask of wine for Kaylyn as well.
Now that they were finally alone, Quinn and Liam leaned over the table to talk about their plans for Kaylyn. “First, we need to decide what we're going to do tomorrow,” Quinn said, through a mouthful of food. “Plight Liam, did you see those flames? They were taller than my father's place with the barn on top of it. She's a walking target for the kingdom, and if someone figures out what she is, we'll be strung up right alongside her. If she doesn't figure out what you're up to and turn that power on us first.”
“I'm not up to anything. I told you, I just want to figure out what she wanted my father for, and then once we know that Brigwell's safe, and”—he wanted to add: 'that no one was trying to kill him for what happened at Gosspree-nor,' but decided to leave that out for now—“well, then we'll put her on a wagon and head in the opposite direction.” He didn't tell Quinn about their conversation on the slopes of the Dourbern forest, overlooking her wagon. They had shared a strangely tender moment, and Liam didn't know what to make of it. He wouldn't admit it to Quinn, but there was something about her that intrigued him. “From there...” He hadn't yet figured out what would happen, or where they'd go. He could always buy land and go back to working the soil. That was the comfortable option, but he'd finally made a break from Brigwell, and the world had opened up before him. For the first time in as far back as he remembered, he didn't have anything holding him back. “We'll see what happens.”
“but
what does your father have to do with this?”
“My father wasn't the one who took them to Gosspree-nor. That was the time I took them.”
Liam had mentioned the story to Quinn before the attack, but this time, he proceeded to tell him everything. He told him about the journey, the wretched waiting for them, the child, everything, and once he had finished Quinn cursed under his breath.
“So she's actually looking for you. Light failing Liam, you're playing a dangerous game. If she knows that you injured or maybe even killed that wretched, or—or that you know anything about the child, she could turn on you like a rabid hound. She could have been one of the three wretcheds in the inn.”
“That's why I need to find out. I mean, if this is about what happened to the king, or what happened in that village, then it's more than just our lives at stake.”
“Well, right now, our lives are the only ones I'm concerned about,” Quinn said. “Look, speak to her if you need to, but don't trust her with anything. And once you have your answers, we need to head west, as far away from anything even smelling like a wretched.”
Liam’s stomach rumbled, but after their conversation, he couldn't finish his food. The tavern was stuffy and full, and people streamed in, until they were pressing in around the table.
They laughed and shouted and drummed their mugs to song. He had to get out to get some air and clear his head.
Stepping out of the inn, the cool night air washed over Liam like climbing into a lake on a summer's day.
He missed the dark. He missed being able to step outside whenever he chose to look up at the stars. Despite the smoke from so many buildings, he could still make out a wash of stars above them. A poet once said that each was another world like theirs with strange people and strange animals and strange houses, and he wondered if those worlds were as messed up as his, or as beautiful. He wondered whether they had fields of lavender and ice-chilled rivers and lakes like mirrors and vast forests of pine, and whether someone there was looking down on this world at this exact moment wondering about the people that lived here.
Quinn was walking next to him, and yet, Liam felt more alone than he ever had, and for a moment, he wondered if he’d ever be able to return to Brigwell or if he'd even want to.
There were still a few people outside, but the streets were mostly empty—lit only by the light of the overhanging windows. Noise drifted in from a nearby tavern, and they could hear the tap, tap, tap of a cobbler working into the night.
Quinn, who was still amazed at how large some of the buildings were, kept his eyes on the eves. He lamented the fact that he couldn't take an image of it with him when they left, but even if he could find an artist that was good enough, a painting wouldn't do it justice.
They found a tavern that opened onto the street and sat outside in the cool night air to enjoy a drink. A bard was performing in the tavern, and most of the people were inside listening to tales of the Knights of the Fallen and clapping along to the songs. Quinn would have been at the front of the crowd on any other night, singing louder than anyone there, but this night he was particularly subdued. He told Liam that he didn't know any of the songs, but he was further from home than he'd ever travelled, and Liam knew that could weigh heavy on a man.
By the time they headed back for the Paldrin inn, the streets were deserted. Many of the lanterns had been doused and shutters pulled in the diamond pane windows above them.
Liam looked forward to dropping into his bed and sleeping until the sun was tall in the sky. The day had taken a lot out of him, and he was exhausted. “Now, I know how Kaylyn feels,” he said, through a yawn. “I have half a mind to curl up on the pavement. I would if I thought I'd still have my shoes and cloak come morning.”
Quinn didn't respond, and Liam looked to see what had caught his eye.
He had stopped in the middle of the street, staring up at the side of the inn. “Did that just move?”
They wouldn't have seen it if Quinn wasn't so taken with how tall the buildings were, but there seemed to be something dark hanging on the wall near the top of the inn.
“What is that?” Liam said. He wondered if it was a gargoyle, but he hadn't noticed one before. It moved, slowly, creeping along the wall towards a window, like a lizard. It reached out a thin hand towards the window, and with a start, Liam realised that was Kaylyn's room.
“Hey,” he screamed. “Hey.” He slapped his hands together.
Its head snapped towards him, its eyes glowing yellow like a cat’s. A long tongue flickered out its mouth. A shadow fell across them, and another black shape thudded to the ground in front of the door. It rose up out of the shadows, with the light from the moon glinting off rows of sharp teeth. The first was at the window. The shutter was open a notch, and it was reaching inside.
“Get away,” Liam screamed. “Kaylyn, Kaylyn.”
Nothing moved beyond the window. She wouldn't hear him, if she was in one of her deep sleeps again.
Liam drew his knife as the thing rushed at him. He fended off its jaws, but it moved quickly.
Its claws lashed out, and a burning pain sliced across his chest. Liam kicked its legs out from under it and struck, but it rolled back and his knife sailed through the air. They didn't have time for this. He ran at it with his knife.
It crouched ready to pounce.
its tongue flicked out, and a stone slab smashed onto its head, crushing it to the cobbles.
“Go, Go,” Quinn shouted. “I’ll catch up to you.” He lifted the slab and brought it down again with a thud.
Above them, the creature had secreted something onto the window frame. Yellow fumes hissed off of it. Whatever that was, it seemed to be melting the hinges. The cursed window already hung at an angle.
Liam burst through the door into the tavern. The place had emptied out considerably. Only a handful of patrons sat at tables, slumped over their drinks.
The innkeeper started towards him, smiling pleasantly, the light of the fire painting his face orange. He said something, but Liam didn't hear a word of it. He shouted for the man to get help. He had to get to Kaylyn. He had to reach her before that creature broke through the window.
Chapter 14
Liam took the stairs three at a time. At the top, he ran past her room and had to double back and count the doors to find the right one.
“Kaylyn!” He shouldered into the door.
It shuddered but didn't break. “Kaylyn. Wake up. They're coming in. Kaylyn.” He hit it over and over feeling the precious seconds sliding by, until the hinges ripped free, and he stumbled into the room.
Kaylyn was still asleep on the bed, and that thing was coming in through the window. It hissed, and its neck swelled. It was getting ready to squirt whatever it had used to burn through the window.
Liam hauled the door up off the floor and charged.
Acid sprayed, as the door slammed into it pinning it against the wall. It screeched and fought to break free.
Liam threw his weight into the door trying to hold it back.
The acrid smell burned his eyes and his lungs causing him to choke.
He reached for his dagger, but the sheath was empty. It must have come loose when he lifted the door. He glanced around desperately for anything else he could use and spotted the water jug on the dresser. That would have to do.
With a cry, he swung it as hard as he could, trying to find the creature's head or whatever else he could.
The other guests were venturing out their rooms to see what the noise was all about, but they were keeping well back.
“Help me,” Liam shouted. “Somebody help me here, curse you.”
They gathered outside; they whispered and watched, but no one made a move to help him. They must have thought it was just a drunken brawl that had spilled over from the tavern. Plight, where was Quinn?
The door shuddered, and Liam turned to add more weight behind it, but the water from the jug had splashed across the floor, and his boot slid out from under him.
He hit the wooden slats, and that thing pounced. Its neck swelled, and its mouth opened. Liam could see the sharp teeth; he could smell the acid on its breath.
He turned his head bracing for the spray. Those jaws widened, and then the head ripped back as though jerked by an invisible rope.
Kaylyn was climbing out of bed, unsteadily with a hand stretched out towards them. He had seen her power, but now her face was strained, and her hand was trembling, as though she was struggling to hold it back. Her power was more than depleted. She wouldn't be able to hold it for much longer. The creature’s claws dug into his neck, choking him.
Liam reached back patting around for his dagger. Spots appeared in front of his eyes. His hand closed around the hilt. With both panic and relief flooding through him, he swung hitting the creature in the neck.
It staggered back. The blade disintegrated and acid sprayed across the dresser.
Liam twisted onto his side, choking in a lung full of air.
Behind him, Quinn charged through the door, screaming like a barbarian, his spear glinting in the moonlight. The spear hit, and the creature was carried back into the wall. It screeched—the sound piercing through the stones like a pig being slaughtered. That would be enough to rouse every cursed guest in the inn. Quinn struck over and over until the sound gurgled away, and its eyes rolled back into its head. He ripped his spear free, and the creature slid onto the floor.
Kaylyn's legs gave way, and Liam ran to help her.
“Are you okay?” she managed.
“My face is still in one piece, thanks to you. You chose a good time to wake up there.”
The bystanders had scattered, and among their screams for the watch, were shouts of “nightspawn,” and “the wretched.” “The wretched” most of all. They’d seen Kaylyn using her power. It wouldn't be long before every cursed soldier in the town was surrounding the inn.