by Brad Carsten
“Oh. Of course. What did she say?”
He briefly explained the assessment without mentioning anything else that the assessor had seen. He hadn't quite wrapped his mind around that, and if he had to watch her, he didn't want to give her a reason to hide.
“So, you would have been selected? Oh Liam, that's wonderful news. I'm so happy for you.” She tried to give him a hug, and he stepped back. If he didn't relax, she would know that something was wrong. But how could he relax. He had opened his heart to her. She was the first person in ten years, and it was all a lie.
“It is good news, isn't it?” She was looking at him with those large, searching eyes.
“Yes, I think so. It's been a long night. I need some time to think through everything, and figure out where I'd like to go from here.”
“Of course. Yes. Of course. And after what happened to The Sage...” She swung her arms awkwardly. “As soon as we get to Luthengard, we'll celebrate, how does that sound?”
“Listen Kaylyn, we have to leave tonight before the scribes figure out what happened, and decide to withdraw their welcome. The Sage has arranged a wagon for us, but we have to go now.”
“But what about the hunter? If he comes, he'll kill them all.”
“That's another reason to go before we bring anyone else into this. He's after you, not them. He has no reason to attack if you are no longer here. You said you can mask your scent in Luthengard, right?”
She nodded.
“Then that's our only option. We'll hide your scent and then we'll figure out what to do after that.” He had trusted her. He’d opened his heart to someone, and she'd betrayed him. He'd find out what she was after and then he’d walk away and let her be damned.
“What about Quinn. Where is he?”
“He's not coming with us. I'm not putting his life at risk for this. He can meet us in Luthengard if he wants to, that's fine, but at least he'll be safe in the meantime.”
“Okay,” Kaylyn said. “But what about you? Is your life worth any less?”
“This is my choice, but I'm not going to bring Quinn into this if I don't have to.” He would walk away now, but he had to make sure that Quinn and the others were safe.
“But Liam—”
“Kaylyn, we're not arguing about this.”
The wagon had been drawn out of the circle, and Elias, Fayre's father, was waiting with his six hounds. “I've packed some food, water, and blankets. If you continue south, you should reach Luthengard by tomorrow evening, but I wouldn't stop. Keep going, and take it in turns to sleep in the back if you get tired. In Luthengard, there's a good inn called The Rearing Pony. I've stayed there often in the past. Make sure to ask for their rabbit pie. The gravy is worth a week's journey, and will certainly make up for leaving at this hour.”
“That sounds really good.” He had often caught rabbit along the trail when he was out with his father, and the taste of rabbit reminded him of those simpler times. “I'll order two of them in case you decide to join us.” He took hold of the reins, and hesitated. “There's something I need to tell you. In the assessment, before the explosion, I saw something.” He hadn't spoken to Kaylyn about this, but he was beyond caring what she thought. “I saw a hunter during the assessment. I can't get into it now, but I think that had something to do with the explosion. I looked right at him and he saw me and—look, there's a chance that he may come looking for us here. You need to get to a town as soon as possible, and stay there for a few days at least.” Liam couldn't read Elias' expression. His face was like stone, but at least he was listening. “Don't take a chance with this. Your hounds are impressive but not against a hunter.”
When he spoke, it was slow and contemplative. “How sure are you of this?”
“Quite sure. If he saw us, there's a good chance he'll find you as well. You need to take every precaution.”
They had to warn someone, and Elias seemed like the most sensible option.
“Okay, I'll speak to the Sage, and we can decide how to proceed from here. Until then—” he slapped the cow's rump to get it moving. “Go well, and if we ever meet again, may it be over a bowl of rabbit stew.”
Liam watched the lights diminishing behind him, as he played over everything that had happened. Kaylyn sat in silence clasping her blankets firmly around her neck. She was hardly the picture of someone who could do the things that the Sage had said of her, and for a moment, he wanted to reach out and take her hand, but he remembered the Sage's warning about giving his heart to her and how it could cloud his judgement, and he kept his hands firmly on the reins.
As the old wagon rumbled over the hard earth, creaking and clanking, his mind churned over everything that had happened, and whether she could be playing him. But then again, what did he really know about her? Was it all an act? Was she even the princess? All he knew was that he wasn't falling for her charms again—not until he knew what she was involved in.
***
“Don't be a half-wit,” Fayre said, from atop her massive hound. “Just come back to the camp before you get us both killed. I swear, dealing with you is like dealing with a mule.”
Quinn stood staring out across the open plane. The moon seemed washed out, like one of Madam Applesby's festive tablecloths and didn't provide light enough by half to see anything anyway, but he started off for what he hoped was Luthengard. If only he had Liam's sense of direction, but right then, he could be heading back to plagued Brigwell for all he knew. Curse the scribes. Curse Liam and his pride and curse the moon while he was at it. “You knew that they were leaving, didn't you!” He tried to 'feel' the right direction, like Liam always did, but the point moved every time he settled on it. “You pretended you needed my help, that you wanted me to help you guard that break in the wagons against the nightspawn, and all you wanted was to distract me long enough for them to run away, curse you.”
“Well they did need guarding... That part was true.”
Quinn scowled.
“Look, you're not going to catch them. Firstly, you're heading in the wrong direction, and secondly, they left an hour ago at least. There's simply no way, not on foot. And how do you think you're going to protect yourself out here like this against the nightspawn? Come back to the camp and we can talk about it.”
Quinn didn't stop walking. “I know Liam. The fool doesn't understand self-preservation like the rest of us. If he left so suddenly like this, it's because he thought that he was somehow placing my life in danger, which means that his life is in danger, which is why I have to find him. Do you understand now?”
“No.”
“Well, don't worry about it. Just go back and forget about it.”
She pulled in front of him. He turned to step aside, but that cursed hound bared its teeth with a low growl issuing from its throat. “Now will you stop and listen for a flick or do I need to get Fluffy to carry you back by the scruff of your neck?”
Quinn planted the butt of his spear into the dirt, stubbornly. He tried to look past the mountain of a hound, which was rather difficult when its breath still smelled like its last meal.
“We'll meet them in Luthengard. But you've got to see that it was for their own good. They had to leave before anyone realised what that—that companion of yours was. I still can't believe you're traveling with a wretched of all things.” Fayre dropped her voice, as though she was afraid that someone would hear. “How did you meet up with her anyway, I mean, it's not every day that you end up travelling with a wretched?” She frowned back towards the camp. “And it's not every day that our cattle are roasted during an assessment. We were saving those for the festival of souls, you know? We'll have to eat chicken feed instead”
“Well now you can start celebrating early. Will you move aside. Liam is the only person I still trust in this world—the only one.” He glared at Fayre, and the cursed hound growled again. Quinn took a step back. “Oh, don't look so offended, you lied to me. You've lied to me about everything.”
“That's fine,
you can think whatever you like about me, but I'm still not going to let you run off into the night like a half-wit. The nightspawn have been hovering around us like flies around your empty head. I wouldn't be surprised if one is watching us right now.” She looked up nervously, and Quinn followed her eyes. “You wouldn't make it half a mile before they were on to you. Now, come on. Find some sense, and let's get back to the others—before it's too late.” She kicked her hound forward and Quinn had no choice but to scramble back. If he turned then so did she. The cursed woman was herding him like a goat. He had no choice but to comply.
When they were close enough to the lights of the camp to see the scribes moving between the wagons, he got a tingling between his shoulder blades like something was about to pounce, like he wouldn't get there in time. “Do you really think they're watching us?” he asked.
“No, Fluffy would be growling, but I had to get you back somehow.”
Quinn cursed for the hundredth time that night.
They put him up in one of the wagons and Fayre placed a hound in front of the door 'to protect him.' Protect him! He tried to step out during the night to relieve himself, and the beast chased him right back inside, and he spent the rest of the night tossing and turning and trying everything to ignore his swollen bladder. When Fayre knocked on his door the next morning, he pushed past her, cursing like a man who had shut his nose in the door, and scrambled for the closest tree.
Fayre wasn't the only stone in his shoe. The Sage also had her eye on him, and as soon as they were on the road again, she summoned him to her wagon to 'talk.' She had dropped an anvil on his head during his assessment, when she announced that she'd discovered something inside of him after all. She said that the world had changed over the last ten years, and that new abilities had since been uncovered. He had grown up believing that he had nothing to contribute to the world, and now, she was telling him that wasn't the case. He had an ability but only because the nightspawn had arrived. That was hardly a consolation.
She sat in her chair, her face still swollen, but eager to get back into Gaharah to learn more about him. He decided after the previous night, he would rather spend the day in bed with someone bringing him the occasional drink, but he didn’t think the Sage would go for that, and he couldn't exactly refuse her request. Not unless he wanted to walk to Luthengard, and so, he ended up on a chair, the wagon rocking it from side to side as it rumbled over the many ruts and mounds in the road. At least he didn't have to speak to Fayre. Even so, she rode alongside the wagon, whether to listen in on their conversation or just to irritate him, he couldn't say. The woman was exasperating. All along the train of wagons drifted in the sound of angry voices, as the scribes took up a new debate. This time they seemed split on whether ice was frozen water, or water was melted ice, and from the tone of those voices, they were about to climb off their wagons and settle this like gentlemen. They were all mad—the whole lot of them. Plight, he was going to kill Liam when they met up again.
The Sage turned the conversation onto his spear, and that caught his attention, alright. The thing lay within arm’s reach. He swore that he wouldn't go anywhere without it, not after the events of the last few days. She took the spear, and he had the sudden urge to grab it away from her. She turned it over in her hands, and the feeling grew even stronger, until he had to sit on his hands to keep them restrained.
“Hmm,” she said, again. “Interesting. Very interesting. It's just as I thought.”
“What? What is just as you thought?”
“Tell me, how many people have you seen walking around with one of the tainted one's weapons?”
“I don't know, a few, I guess.”
“A few? Can you be more specific.”
“Well, there was...” His words trailed off, as he realised he hadn't actually seen anyone else with one. They were cruel looking weapons, carved with strange, other-worldly patterns, which is surely something he would have noticed before.
“What about in a store? How many have you seen for sale?”
“Well, I can't say I've seen any for sale, but I'm sure they're not that easy to get your hands on.” It's not like the nightspawn ever sauntered into towns looking to trade for some wooden beads.
“Oh, you can find them alright, but I want to show you something. Go over to that chest, the one in the corner. Yes, that's it. Now open it.”
Quinn opened the lid slowly and gaped. “Where did you get that?” Inside he found a cruel looking hooked blade and a greeve. The design and patterns were similar to that of the spear, except they looked wilted, like a plant that had gone without water for too long. The blade had curled along its length and pieces were flaking off of it. “What—what is this?” He prodded it and it cracked.
“We found those a few nights ago near the wagons. It seems that the tainted ones had a disagreement and killed one of their own. Now, as I'm sure you can figure out, you haven't seen anyone else carrying one of their weapons, because they cannot last outside of Gaharah.”
“So eventually, that's also going to happen to my spear?”
“It should have already, judging by the amount of time you've had it, but look at it, there isn't a mark on it. There's no sign of wilting whatsoever.”
“Perhaps it's a better quality? Perhaps yours are given to their peasants to make them feel special.”
“Perhaps,” she said, doubtfully. “Another thought I had was that it had something to do with your companion—the Sypher. She draws her power from Gaharah, under which the tainted ones take refuge during the day, so it's possible. Without her here, we'll know soon enough, but judging from the condition of the blade this morning, I have another suspicion, as ours degenerated rather quickly.”
“What is it?” Did he really want to know? When it came to the nightspawn, he'd far rather remain in the dark—or in this case, the light.
“I suspect that the spear has chosen you.”
“Chosen me?” What was she on about? chosen him. It was a spear, just a spear, it didn't have a will—did it? He dropped it onto the bed and slid his chair back.
“Gaharah is far removed from our own world. The laws are not the same. The way things play out here is not the way they play out there. I saw it when you entered—a cord between you and the spear. It's something I haven't ever seen before, not between the animate and inanimate. The only other time I've seen that is when I came across the tainted ones there. It appears that their weapons draw their energy, their life essence, from the wielder, and once the wielder dies, so too do the weapons. But in your case, the weapon seems to have bonded itself to you, which is rather fascinating.”
Quinn couldn't keep his eyes from straying to the cruel looking spear, that was now taunting him from the blankets. “It’s bonded itself to me?” His voice was higher than it should be for any respectable man. He had once dived into a pond to impress Tayneth, and came out covered in leeches. It took his mum an hour to burn them all off of him, with Tayneth and the rest of the town crowding around the windows to watch, and Madam Applesby running off to fetch her pies. At least half a dozen leeches had found their way into his small clothes, and he had to snatch up the broom and chase the crowd off before starting in on those. That's suddenly what the spear felt like to him. He was sure it was all in his imagination, but he could almost feel his blood being sucked out of him. Was any of that even possible? The Sage was either insane or the most terrifying person he had ever met.
“How—how do you know if you're right?” She couldn't be right. Surely not.
“The only way to tell is to enter Gaharah again.”
“But didn't you just say that that's where the nightspawn go during the day?”
“No, that's where they come from. Once they're in the world they hide in pockets of death between our world and Gaharah, but that's neither here nor there. This is far too interesting an idea to pass up.”
“Pockets of death? That makes me feel so much better.” The woman wanted to head right back into the vi
per's den, because it was interesting!
“Stop being ridiculous, and take my wrists. There is much we still need to do today.” There was a finality to her voice that put to rest any hope of him getting some afternoon shut-eye. “You'll be perfectly safe, as long as you do as I tell you.” She snatched up the spear from the bed and dropped it onto his lap. “Now, you said you were partially aware of me the last time you entered. What I want you to do this time is to work on that impression. Try to keep your mind on this world as you enter. Picture the room, feel where I am in relation to you. Feel the texture of the links. Don't allow your mind to drift too far into the world and you'll be able to exit again in a hurry if you need to.”
“Alright. Okay.” Quinn drew a deep breath. “But if something happens, then you need to do whatever it takes to wake me up, okay? Drop a bucket of water over my head if you have to. Shake me awake. Just do whatever it takes.”
“I don't think that will help, but alright, I give you my word.”
Taking her wrists, he cussed—just in his head though. He wouldn't dare saying that in front of this old battleaxe. He’d once cussed in front of Madam Mosely and earned himself a mouth full of peppers.
“Right, let's get this over with as quickly as possible so that I can go back to running away from Fayre's hounds.”
The cold spread up his arms, piercing into his head and numbing his mind. He tried to focus on the Sage, on his hands, on his chair rocking unsteadily, but it was like swimming up river in a flood.
His mind slipped, and he was standing in a scorched field with ash blowing in the wind. A house had burned down to the foundations. It wasn't dark, but he couldn't make it out properly, as though he was looking through one of Master Anson's dirty windows. Shapes, like people, moved around him; malformed shapes; looming shapes. One of their heads snapped back towards him. It hissed and Quinn yelped and scrambled back. His body jolted, and he found himself lying on his back in the wagon, where he had fallen over his chair. The Sage had climbed out of her chair and was leaning over him. That sight was just as frightening. Behind her, Fayre was looking in through the window, and he hoped he hadn't screamed in the real world.