The Wretched

by Brad Carsten

  “Get up, and we'll try that again, but you need to settle your mind. And get your thoughts away from the tainted ones, will you? I don't need you drawing their attention like that.”

  This time, Quinn pushed the chair aside and took a seat on the bed. It was a lot more secure, especially if he came across any more of those cursed things.

  He entered just as quickly and this time managed to hold onto his thoughts a hair's width longer, but once again, he found himself in the scorched field, with the hot ash blowing across his face, burning into his mouth and eyes.

  Word must have spread, and this time the nightspawn were waiting for him. They snarled and rushed at him with those terrible hunks of metal that they used for weapons.

  Quinn scrambled back, tripping over his own feet. An axe thrashed down towards him, and he was pulled back into the real world, back into the wagon. He toppled off the bed onto the floor, gasping in a lungful of clean air. He stayed there until his heart had a chance to settle. “Is that enough experimenting for one day? They were waiting for me this time.”

  With a trembling hand, he wiped a layer of sweat off of his forehead.

  “I don't understand what is happening. The spear seems to be drawing you towards them, as though it's trying to reveal something to you, but your mind is pulling you away. Perhaps this time you should give yourself to it and see where it takes you. It's fascinating. Really fascinating.”

  “Are you mad? I'm not going back there. Not while those things are waiting for me.” Fascinating? She found this fascinating? He clenched his hands to stop them from shaking. She’d lost her mind.

  “Right, we'll take a short break to give you a chance to recover...”

  “A short break? No. Forget it. You can take Fayre in there if you want to, and risk her fool's neck, but I'm done. I'm finished, and if I have to walk the rest of the way to Luthengard then so be it.”

  “Fine. Alright, you win.” The Sage put up her hands in surrender and Quinn sat up. He didn't expect her to give in so easily. He studied her, trying to figure out her angle. “So, I can go if I want to?”

  She gestured towards the door.

  “Good. Okay then.”

  Fayre was waiting for him outside. “What happened? I heard you crying out earlier.”

  So, he had screamed. Next time, he'd stuff a sock in his mouth before going in. No. Actually, there wouldn't be a next time. He hopped down from the wagon. “I didn't cry out. My chair fell over, and you heard the bump. That's all.”

  “Well, by the sound of it, your chair must have been terrified.”

  “Is there a point to all of this?” he snapped. The wagon rumbled away, but the caravan was moving slowly enough to walk alongside it, and he decided he could use the exercise. He could use the fresh air as well, but most of all, he could use the distance away from the Sage.

  “I wanted to know if you wanted to go hunting with me.”

  “No, I'm not falling for that one. You can forget it if you think I'm making your dinner tonight.” He tapped the side of his nose smartly.

  Fayre rolled her eyes. “I'm not trying to get a meal out of you. The lumbrocks eat a lot, and I could use some help. That's all. Besides, I thought I'd save you from the Madam Sage. She seems to be giving you a hard time in there.”

  Quinn blew out his cheeks. “You don't know the half of it. Is she always that fervent?”

  “Oh yes. Now you know what I have to put up with every day of my life. Do you blame me for slipping away as much as I do? If I don't, then she always finds something for me to do, and it usually isn't something I'd choose.”

  “Why do you stay with them?”

  “Where else would I go? This is the only home I've got. It's not like I have friends, like yours, that I can go and have adventures with. We came from Galbrock. These are the only people I've ever known since arriving in Thamaria. I would love to live in a home that can't roll away if you sneeze too hard, and have a vegetable garden that isn't on wheels.”

  Quinn snorted. “And here I couldn't wait to give that all up. I guess things aren't always better on the other side of the fence.”

  “I guess not. So, tell me about your village.”

  They walked for a long time talking, and for the first time, Quinn got to see a different side to her. He told her stories from back home, and she asked a bucket load of questions about the village and the towns around them.

  “There's a river a few miles ahead of us,” Fayre said, “where we'll stop to rest the cattle. We can travel ahead of them if you like and meet them there. At least Madam Sage won't be able to find you.”

  “Okay, you have a deal.”

  “Wonderful.” She whistled, and Quinn suddenly remembered that they didn't have any horses in the camp, and his heart sank.

  Climbing onto the lumbrock was trickier than it looked and once on, it sprang up, so suddenly, he was almost thrown right off its back again and had to grab onto its collar to steady himself. It didn't like that at all and snapped at his leg. Quinn threw his legs back and almost toppled off again, and all the while Fayre was killing herself laughing. Quinn tried to salvage what remained of his dignity by sitting upright, even if his legs were bent back behind him like a half-wit. “Let's just go, alright!”

  It took off at a sprint and Quinn bounced along on top of it like a pannier with a loose strap.

  Within half a mile, his legs and arms had knotted up, and his bottom had gone numb from all the bouncing, and when they reached the water, the cursed hound decided it could use a swim and bounded right in without waiting for him to dismount. Quinn emerged, soaked through to the bone, with leaves in his hair, and Fayre trying to keep a straight face. Her shoulders shook, as she tried to hold it back, but when Quinn squeezed his pockets and water squirted out, that proved too much for her, and she scrambled behind a clump of trees and howled with laughter. Plight, he was going to kill Liam when they caught up to him.

  The food was surprisingly good. There was bread baked only that morning with cheese and smoked ham and as much jam as he wanted. The pretty girls kept bringing him more and topping up his glass with wine until his stomach was full and his head was swimming, and after lunch, he settled lazily onto the porch of Fayre's wagon looking forward to doing nothing but watching the flies buzzing around his nose. The group got going again, hoping to cover a few miles before evening, and that's when the pretty girls disappeared and Fayre locked her door and the Madam Sage's wagon rolled up next to his.

  Quinn was left with two options. He could either walk the rest of the way to Luthengard, or join her. He considered walking, but his stomach was full and his eyes were heavy and—he suddenly realised that the woman had played him with her constant supply of food and drink. She wasn't being neighbourly, she was fattening him up like a feastday swine.

  The first few journeys into Gaharah were just as disastrous, running into the nightspawn every time. The Madam Sage finally had him focusing on the spear instead of the room, as she had suggested after their last session, and that's when it all took a bizarre turn.

  Quinn closed his eyes, focusing all his attention on the spear. Focusing on the Sage or the room, like he had before, was difficult, like trying to keep awake during a village meeting, but this was surprisingly easy. The spear weighed heavy across his lap; he could see it in his mind's eye, and then it rose up in front of him, turning slowly so that he could see it from every angle. A glow surrounded it, and the world seemed to move around him like he was on a galloping horse that was moving faster than any horse he had ever seen, and still it increased. The land blurred past, and his feet lifted off the ground.

  When it stopped abruptly, he was standing in some kind of council chamber, or hall, but it wasn't like anything he had ever seen. Pillars, as tall as trees supported a domed roof that was so high, it was all but hidden in shadows. The sky through the narrow windows was dark, and there were no torches, but he could see clearly. He took a step back, and his head hit into something.


  He turned back slowly.

  A man's boots hung in the air in front of him. Quinn’s eyes slid up, and he stumbled back, covering his mouth so that he wouldn't scream, and hit into more bodies, more kingdom soldiers, hanging from the rafters.

  Blank eyes stared back at him, with the ropes digging into their necks.

  The room seemed to close in around him. His lungs constricted like a band tightening around his chest. He reached the narrow arrow slit of a window and squeezed his face into it to get some air. A city fell away before him, but it was unlike any city he had ever seen. The cursed thing stretched out as far as the eye could see before finally being swallowed into the dark. He had never seen anything like it. Hundreds of figures moved in the streets below—thousands of them, but they weren't human. Humans didn't move like that. This must be the palace. This was where the nightspawn were getting through.

  A loud clanking noise echoed through the hall, carried from one domed roof to the next. The large double doors at the end of the hall swung open and rows of creatures, in lines like soldiers, marched through. Quinn turned to run. In one blurred step, he reached the door at the far side of the room. Those too opened and six of the largest cursed creatures he had ever seen came through. Each one was dressed in armour as dark as the night, and each carried an axe half again as tall as a man. Quinn fell back, clutching his spear. He didn't know where it came from, but it was there in his hands when he needed it. He turned the tip towards them, to hold them back, but they moved past him without giving him a second glance. He was frozen to the spot, and his hands were shaking, and he wondered what in light was going on.

  Keeping his eyes on them, he backed into the door, and slipped out into the passage. Out in the hall were more creatures, more beasts he had never seen before. They stood on hind legs, with dragon like tails, waiting at attention like guards, and their pikes were every bit as cruel looking as his spear. Unlike the last creatures, these ones looked directly at him, but didn't come after him. Perhaps they could sense him there, without being able to see him directly, he didn't know, but he dropped his head and kept walking. Now that he needed to move quickly, he seemed to take forever to pass them, like the hall was stretching with his every step. He passed another group, a little closer this time, and one of them lifted its snout into the air and sniffed. It said something to its companion in a harsh sounding language that Quinn didn't recognise. Its eyes narrowed and it started after him.

  He ducked through an arch onto a spiralled staircase, his heart beating rapidly, as he tried to remember what the Sage had said about exiting this world. Unlike the other times, he couldn't feel the real world calling to him. Now, he couldn't feel anything but the hard-stone wall under his hand. These stairs were steep.

  Boots clattered behind him, and they seemed to be getting closer.

  He reached the bottom landing and ran out into a passage, but the door at the far end of the hall stretched away, and yet, the boots trotting down the stairs behind him were getting closer. If he ran, the creature would know for sure that something was wrong. He had to deal with it. Now.

  He fell back against the arch trying to settle his breathing, but his heart sounded like it was drumming through the walls. His hands shook, and he clutched the spear to his chest.

  He wondered if he should hit or thrust, or sweep the things legs out from under it. Before he could decide, it stepped through the arch into the hall. Quinn swung as hard as he could, lashing its head to the side, but it wasn't enough. It struck back jabbing the butt of its pike into his gut and throwing him back first onto the floor.

  He slid in one direction with his spear sliding in the other.

  It swung its blade, Quinn scrambled back and the blade crashed into the stones inches away from his legs. He kicked out, knocking it back.

  Shouts echoed down the stairs followed by the drumming of more boots.

  Quinn scrambled for his spear, but the pike swung down in front of him, hitting the wall and sending sparks across it.

  Quinn scooted back, on his behind, like a soakwit.

  The creature was still disoriented after taking a blow to the head, but it staggered after him, swinging again and again. Quinn backed into the wall and the blade sliced across his arm.

  It swung back its pike.

  Quinn threw his hands out to shield his head, and the spear snapped into them as though he'd summoned it. His surprise lasted a heartbeat and he struck, screaming as loud as he could.

  Its eyes widened. Its pike clattered to the floor, and blood bubbled out its mouth.

  Abruptly, Quinn was sucked towards it, into it. The scene was replaced by an empty black void with stars shooting past him. In an instant, he saw the creature's life playing out before his eyes. He saw the soldiers it had killed in this world and the other. He saw the world it lived in: a place unlike any he had ever seen. It was just a glimpse, with black rocks like blades jutting out of the soil, and the sky was like blood. He saw the creature cutting off the head of another warrior to gain honor.

  The spear ripped free and the images cut off abruptly.

  Quinn was falling, falling, and with a thud his eyes snapped open.

  Something was leaning over him. He fumbled for his spear but couldn't find it. He tried to fight, but his arms were pinned down. Slowly, the figure came into focus and he recognised Elias' green eyes looking at him. “He's coming around.”

  The Sage's thick fingers reached towards him to draw apart his eyelid. Light from a lantern burned into his eyes, blinding him. He tried to pull away, but she grabbed his head to stop him.

  He heard someone saying that his arm was bleeding, but he'd be alright.

  He was back. He let out a long breath, allowing his shoulders to relax into the bed.

  He was going to strangle Liam when he found him again, then bring him back to life and strangle him again.

  Chapter 19

  A thick blanket of mist settled over the countryside, graying everything out like they'd landed head first in the snow. The air was cold and damp, but it smelled fresh, and Quinn could walk off the effects of almost having his head handed to him on a pike. His nerves felt stripped and then knotted together.

  He decided to jog slowly to work it off, but he had never been one for running, not when there was no one chasing him. It only tired him out, while doing nothing for his nerves.

  Fayre ventured out of her wagon to offer him a honey cake to make up for locking him out, but he scowled at her and moved to the back of the line of wagons. The cake played on his mind though like a worm eating into his brain, until he had no choice but to return for one. There was no point in letting it go to waste, not when there were starving children in Namdra, but he made it clear that he was doing it for the children and not because he had any desire to talk to her ever again.

  Returning to the back of the wagons, he finished his cake in two mouthfuls and licked the crumbs of his fingers.

  He felt a little better after the honey began working its way into his system, and he decided that as soon as he reached Luthengard, he'd find a baker and buy as many as he could stuff into his hat for the next time someone or something tried to kill him.

  At least, the scribes had stopped arguing, but he didn't know which was worse, the constant bickering or the heavy silence that followed. This was an intelligent lot, and when fruit began rotting on the vine, it was only a matter of time before they put a beggar and his cup together. Now the scribes kept mostly to themselves, shooting sidelong glances at Quinn whenever they thought he wouldn't notice. He had brought Kaylyn into their camp, and Fate alone knew what conclusions they'd come to about that. The woman had brought him more trouble than a rat in a barn.

  Time was different in Gaharah, and it wasn't long before evening—the real evening, began settling over the countryside. They pushed their wagons hoping to find a secure place to camp for the night, preferably a ridge with a good view of the surrounding land, but night was approaching, and they finally settled for a sm
all hill with an open field leading up to it. Within half an hour, they had set the protective circle of wagons around the camp.

  Elias circled the wagons with his six hounds to inspect them. Pikes had been driven under the wagons to stop anything from getting through, but that wasn't enough, and so he ordered the defenses to be extended outwards as far as possible.

  He still wasn't satisfied with that and began floating the idea of adding spikes to the top rim of the wagons as soon as they reached Luthengard. Something was bothering him, and that bothered Quinn. The scribes had been travelling for most of their lives, and they knew the danger, but something else had him on edge. It must have something to do with Kaylyn and the explosion, but even that didn't make sense. Kaylyn left hours ago, and they couldn't believe that she’d still come back.

  Even once the fires had started, and the smell of roasting meat was wafting across the camp, even after the scribes had settled around the fires to stretch out their legs and drink and try to get their minds off of the wretched, Elias continued his careful inspection of their defences. Quinn wanted to go and speak to him, but he took one look at those grim hounds and decided against it.

  Instead, he kept an eye out and a hand on his spear.

  The night before, the scribes had stayed around the fires, laughing and swapping theories with each other until late into the night, but now, they trickled off to their caravans until only a handful of people remained. Those that did kept their voices low, and Quinn noticed more than one person shooting a nervous glance at Elias.

  “What do you think is bothering him?” Quinn said to Langton. Langton was a tall, lanky fellow, in his thirties perhaps, that had joined him at the fire. Unlike the other scribes, he just wanted to speak about normal things like women and places they had visited. He even teased Quinn a little about Fayre. He said that she’d make the perfect wife, as she’d give any man a good excuse to head out to the tavern at night.