by Brad Carsten
“Where did you go?”
She drew her knees up, hugging them, as though the thought still upset her.
“He had his own estate that used to belong to the earl of Marshaw. Master Kempsdane, my caregiver, was hoping to retire there one day, and fix it all up and plant some crops, but he hadn't gotten around to it yet, so the place was still old and falling apart, and lonely. There wasn't anyone else there besides for an old caretaker who lived in a hut at the bottom of the garden, but he died shortly after we moved in, so I hardly remember him at all. I remember when we arrived, it was so late at night. We had been travelling for days and then to walk into this huge manor that was so dark and so empty, and really, really cold. I cried for weeks.
The night we arrived, he made a fire and held me the whole night. I've never felt that alone in all my life. I just kept thinking about everything that had happened, and wondering if anyone else got out of the palace. Her eyes didn't leave the flames as though they held answers that she had spent her whole life looking for.
Liam put his hand on hers, and she took it gratefully.
“Your brother got out. So at least you had someone else that was close to you. Didn’t he come and visit you?”
“No, he wrote when he could, but he's been too busy with the war.”
“Wasn't there anyone else? Friends or other family?”
She shook her head. “As far as anyone else knew, I was dead, and my brother wanted to keep it that way. So no, I didn't see anyone else for ten years, not another soul, not until I left to find your father, and then I met you and Quinn...” She said it all so matter-of-factly, as though she had long since accepted her lot.
“You never saw anyone else for ten years?” He couldn't quite wrap his head around that. How did she survive without other people around, especially as a child and through the difficult, and the emotionally charged, adolescent years? “Didn't you make any friends with, I don't know, someone from a nearby village?”
Kaylyn shook her head. “My friends were all in books. I was Captain Rum, when he rode his ship into the storm of many faces, and I was Rosalette when she fell in love with the baker's son and they ran away together to the island of Barkalu to get married. I was little Baxter who'd dip his finger in the honey jar to bring back to his dying sister so that her medicine wouldn't taste so bad. I read each book over and over until the pages were falling out, and I would act out all kinds of adventures in the manor grounds.” She sighed. “I couldn't wait to get out and have my own and find love, but I knew that not everyone would be like Master Kampsdane. I knew I had to keep what I was a secret, but I never expected the hate that I felt out there. People hate me. They really, really hate me, before they even get to know me.”
“People don't hate you, Kaylyn, they're just afraid of what you can do.” He thought about his first reaction when he found out what she was, and felt terrible. At least Quinn was sensible enough to put an end to it.
“No, what I saw in your village was hate. The way they looked at me, the things they wanted to do to me, and the worst thing is, I cannot blame them.”
“Well, if it makes any difference, I don't hate you. I would even count you as a friend.”
She smiled. “How do you do that? My insides feel like they’re churning constantly and then you say something, and I suddenly feel like it's all going to be okay. I really need to learn your secret. Whenever I'm upset, I start crying, then my nose runs and it's so unbecoming.” She pressed her arm through his, and dropped her head onto his shoulder. It was a simple gesture, but it unlocked something inside of him that he hadn't felt for a long time.
He hesitated before putting his arm around her, and he held her, and it didn't feel awkward at all.
“So, what are your plans once you've masked your scent.”
“I have to find the child. If they travelled west, as you say, then someone must have heard something. I just hope it isn't too late.”
They sat in comfortable silence, until the scribes began gathering outside their wagons, dressed in their finest. Quinn was about to start his performance, and there was an air of excitement throughout the camp. Kaylyn dragged Liam to the front of the crowd, chatting happily about dances in the palace and in some of the books she'd read. “Oh, you won't believe how long it's been. It was one of the many things I wanted to see when I left the manor, even if it isn't a ball, even if it's just two drunk people dancing in a tavern, I don't care. I just want to see people dancing and singing and having a good time.” Her eyes were brimming with excitement.
The madam Sage exited her caravan in a long flowing dress with a shawl covering her head. Tables had been set out in a circle so that the group could take notes if they wanted to, and people were bringing out trays of things to eat like they hadn't seen each other for months.
Liam and Kaylyn couldn't stop laughing at how formal it all was, and every time Quinn looked at them, he shook his head in disgust.
Stories of nomadic people always ended with song and dance and great feasts, but it would seem that the scribes had never heard those tales, as no one there could play an instrument. Not one person in the entire group. Someone eventually dug out an old triangle, and another a shaker, and the rest agreed to clap in time for him. It was the saddest arrangement Liam had ever seen.
Quinn got his own back on Fayre for the nasty trick she'd played on them earlier, by announcing that she'd be accompanying him. Her face dropped, and she tried to protest, but Quinn grabbed her hands and drew her into the middle of the crowd.
Quinn knew how to dance. He'd danced often enough with the village girls in Brigwell and later at the Drokwurst tavern after pickling his tongue on a few kegs of ale, and so even with the scowling Fayre and the off-beat clapping, they managed to pull off something resembling the badger’s canter and the three-step lane.
Kaylyn watched in delight, and finally pulled Liam away from the others so that he could show her the steps. Unlike Quinn, Liam wasn't a very good dancer, and he stumbled his way through most of it, feeling the fool, but Kaylyn was enjoying herself and soon even he stopped counting how many times he stood on her foot, and allowed himself to be carried away in the moment. As he held her—as his hand closed around hers, his mind was throwing up every reason not to go down this road again. She was noble born. She was the princess and he a commoner. Love always led to loss. It was inevitable, but he kept going. He kept dancing, and he tried to tell himself that it didn't mean anything.
Quinn was called first for his assessment, and Liam waited outside anxiously. He couldn't decide if he needed to sit or stand, and so he kept pacing and then sitting and then getting up again. His mind was telling him not to go in there, and he tried to find any excuse not to. It wasn't like he could be selected into the kingdom anyway at his age, and with the war going on, he wondered if he'd want to. This could show him up, and if it didn't, he would then spend the rest of his life wondering where he could have ended up.
When Liam was finally called into the Madam Sage's caravan, he had to wipe the sweat off his palms, and his stomach was doing flips.
She was sitting crossed legged on a cushion, and another cushion had been laid out in front of her.
Her caravan was small and dark inside, lit only by a single lantern hanging on a hook behind her. It shrouded her face in darkness, casting a long, dancing shadow across the floor.
“Please, come in. Close the door behind you.” She finished jotting down a few notes, and laid the book aside. It must have been about Quinn.
“How did he do?” Liam asked.
“Your companion's intelligent and has much potential, but it's hidden beneath layers of self-doubt. He's an interesting case though for these times. I just regret that I'll not be with him to see it coming to fruition. Now, if you would...” She gestured towards the cushion.
Liam took a seat, and she offered him her hands. “Please take hold of my wrists, and make sure you’re touching the bracelets.” Her bracelets were silver with some k
ind of milky blue stone set into each of them, and when he clasped them, they were ice cold to the touch. That cold seeped into his hands and up his arms into his head, and images flickered in front of him.
“Let go,” she whispered. “Submit yourself to it. Don't fight it.”
The images became stronger and brighter. Sounds followed and then Liam was standing out in a forest. The place seemed familiar somehow, yet he couldn't quite place it. Normally, he could point out anywhere he had visited before, or had even seen on a map. He tried to focus on Brigwell, but it was like trying to see through a wall. He couldn't feel it at all.
He heard a sound behind and turned, and when he reached out his hand, his bow was already in it. It hadn't been there a moment ago. He reached back for an arrow, and a shaft snapped into his hand as though he had summoned it.
He took a single step into the trees and covered a quarter mile. That caused his head to spin, and he had to stop to reorient himself. He was a lot more careful with his next few steps, until he could figure out how it all worked, but with each step he grew in boldness, and then he ran without stopping, covering miles at a time. Shouting in joy, he jumped the length of an entire forest. The wind blew through his hair as though he was falling, and when he landed, the ground simply absorbed it, without making a sound, and without him feeling the impact.
As he moved, the scene began to change. It grew darker, more corrupt. Where before, fresh leaves covered the trees, they were now brown and wilting. A man ran out of the trees, screaming. He was in full armour, and he was clutching a wound across his gut. Blood flowed through his fingers, and he collapsed to his knees.
Liam tried to stop, but the trees flickered past, and he found himself at the edge of a battle. Swords clashed against shields, with the screams of thousands of men dying. There were men in kingdom armour and men that had been corrupted by evil. Their bodies were human, but malformed, and horns grew out of their backs and heads. Their numbers stretched out as far as the eye could see, and they were winning. They were driving the kingdom soldiers back. If Liam counted himself with the kingdom, he was on the wrong side of the battle, behind the enemy lines. No one had seen him, but what could one man possibly do to make a difference? As the thought came to him, his bow turned into a plow. Green shoots broke through the soil, filling out into vines with fruit and flowers as large as wagon wheels. As they grew, his hands withered before his eyes. There were times in his fields that he felt desperate, like he was trapped in a life he hadn't chosen, and those feelings returned. “No,” he shouted. “I'll not go back there. I will fight. I will fight. I will not take the coward's way out.” His arms strengthened, and his bow returned. This time, it was made from pure gold. He drew back the string, power burning through his arms, radiating off of him, its light reflecting along the golden bow, and as the arrow hit, it blew through the enemy, casting hundreds of bodies aside. He fired another arrow and another and another. His arrows tore through their ranks, carving out paths like a scythe through a field of wheat. Liam felt the tide shifting. He felt his men regaining their courage. Those who had laid down their arms, lifted them up again and rejoined the battle. Liam drew another arrow and then the scene blurred around him as though he was looking through a keyhole into another place entirely.
Kaylyn's necklace hung in front of him, calling to him. He reached for it, and everything changed. The scene blew away like dust in a storm leaving nothing but darkness, and then the darkness blew away, and a man was standing with his back to Liam. He too was dressed in Kingdom armour, but his armour was battered, and his shoulders hunched as though his burden weighed heavy on them. He carried a sword, but he didn't seem to have the power or the will to lift it. As though sensing Liam, he suddenly turned, and his eyes grew dark. “Who are you? Where is Kaylyn? What have you done with her?” He ripped up his sword and lunged.
Liam fell back.
“I said, what have you done with her? Where is she?” The warrior raised his sword and a wall of evil, like Kaylyn had used against the Hunter, blew up between them. The sword bounced off the barrier, and he hit it over and over, as he continued screaming for her.
Liam realised that two other people were there with him. The first was Kaylyn, her eyes closed and her hand stretched out towards the wall, and the second sat atop a horse of writhing darkness like smoke with his back to them. His head snapped around, and his eyes met Liam's, and his lips curled in a smile. He pulled back his reins, wheeling his horse around and began galloping towards them. He was riding with all he had and he was drawing closer, closer, closer.
Light rushed at Liam, and as it hit, pain burst through his head and the scene tore free.
***
The explosion rattled through the wagon, knocking mugs off the shelf and causing a painting of a scary looking jester to drop to the floor. Quinn and Fayre had found their way to her caravan after the dance, and she was boiling him up a cup of cubruc, a spicy paste of a drink from Galbrok. Fayre's eyes snapped onto Quinn’s. They didn't say anything; they didn't need to, but they were both thinking the same damned thing. The nightspawn were here. Quinn snatched up his spear and Faire her bow and they charged through the door.
Chapter 17
Liam clawed his way out of the vision into the cool night air. The bitter scent of smoke filled his lungs, and he choked.
Specs of light danced around him forming into the shapes of people running with lanterns.
“He's awake. He's awake.” It was a man's voice. Kaylyn's face appeared before him, followed by three others.
“Liam, are you okay?” Her voice swirled in and out like a ghost's.
Where was he? There was a forest and a war and—he remembered the hunter, and panic jolted through him. “Where's my bow? Is Quinn okay?” The hunter had seen him. He was coming for them. Liam tried to get up, but pain lanced through his head.
“He's fine. He's fine. He wasn't near the wagon when it exploded, but you need to take it slowly. I don't want you passing out on me again and cracking your skull this time.”
“Exploded?”
“It wasn't an attack. We're all fine. Just take it easy.”
Kaylyn put her arm under his to assist him. The others moved to help as well, but she waved them off. “I've got him. Perhaps you should see if anyone else was injured. You won't find them until the morning, and by then, it may be too late. He's going to be okay.” Kaylyn's eyes bore into him, like she wanted to tell him something.”
The other men looked at Liam, and he nodded. “She's right. I'll be okay.” Did this have something to do with her power? Surely not.
“What happened?” he asked, once the others had left. His head hurt, but he found that if he moved slowly, it wasn't as bad. Broken shards of wood and furniture lay scattered in the grass around them. Other caravans were also damaged. The closest lay on its side. Another's roof was half ripped off, and it lay away from the circle, as though it had been cast aside by a giant.
The ground was scorched in a circle around them, and a black line of smouldering earth, twice as thick as the wagon, pierced halfway into the camp. The light of the torches rimmed dozens of small mounds where sheep and cows had been incinerated. Liam hoped it was just sheep and cows.
“Liam, I saw the hunter.”
“Was he here?” He tried to get up again, but Kaylyn put her hand on his shoulder to stop him. He was so weak, it didn't take much to keep him down.
“No, I told you, we weren't attacked. I don't know what happened. When you went into that wagon, I could feel you as soon as you touched the links, and then it just got stronger and then... Liam, I don't know what happened, but I was pulled into the assessment with you. I saw everything that you did.”
“You were pulled into the assessment? Is that even possible?”
She turned as a group ran past, their torches making the shadows dance back and forth across her worried face.
“I don't know, but something strange is happening here. Like I said, I saw the hunter.�
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“So, did I. He looked right at me. It was as though he was looking for us, and when he saw me, it was like he recognised me, and he started galloping this way.”
“That’s how I saw it as well. I hoped I was mistaken but—we need to warn them.” She began backing away. “Their defences are strong, and they have the lumbrocks at least, but that won't be enough. They could hold out against the nightspawn, but not a hunter. Their only chance would be to get to a town and hope he doesn't find them first.”
“We'll speak to the Sage.”
“That's not enough. I have to do something before it's too late.”
“What else can you do?”
“I don't know, but I have to do something. I can't sit around here waiting for him to attack. We have to prepare ourselves, and I have to make sure he doesn't come anywhere near the wagons. I have to...” She took off down the small steps, and Liam watched her disappearing into the night.
He tried to get up to go after her, but it felt like someone had swapped his legs around, and he had to figure out how to use them again.
“Liam. Liam.” Quinn’s voice swirled like Kaylyn’s had earlier, and he appeared through the dark, his boots thudding on the hardened dirt.
He carried his spear, and behind him, Fayre held her bow ready. “I heard there was an explosion and—” he broke off in a low whistle, as he took it all in. “what happened?”
“I don't know. I think it had something to do with the assessment, but—” with Fayre standing right there, he couldn't go into any more detail. Right now, he had to find Kaylyn before she did something stupid like running off to confront the hunter on her own. He managed to get down off the wagon and staggered to keep his balance. Is this what she felt like after casting? It felt like he had drunk a barrel of ale before being stuffed into the barrel and rolled down a hill.