A Dark Inheritance

by Todd Herzman

  Then he realised the man who held it was chopping vegetables.

  ‘Marius!’ said Eldridge, the cook who used to work in Geral’s tavern. ‘I thought you were staying at Joslin’s?’

  ‘What are you doing in my house?’

  Eldridge glanced at the hammer in Marius’s grip. He put the knife on the counter and brushed his hands on his apron. ‘Mine burned down. Yours was empty.’

  ‘But—but you can’t just…’ A noise came from down the hall. Marius focused on it, forgetting about Eldridge he walked toward it. Someone was in Ruben’s room. Someone was in his room, too. Eldridge’s whole family—his two daughters, his wife—were here. Marius shot his gaze through each doorway. Ava sat on his bed. Ida looked through Ella’s clothes. Yedis, their mother, seemed to be tidying up Ruben’s room.

  ‘Stop that!’ he shouted at Yedis. ‘That’s my brother’s room! This is my house!’ Yedis stared at him in disbelief, at the hammer shaking in his hands.

  ‘Marius.’ Eldridge had followed him down the hall. His hands were on his hips and he looked angry. Why would he be angry? ‘This house wasn’t being used. Your brother and sister are—’

  ‘They’re coming back!’

  ‘Whether they come back or not, they’re not here now! We needed somewhere to stay. It’s not our fault your sister ran off like some fool.’

  Marius took a deep breath, the hammer heavy in his hand. He wanted to smash Eldridge’s skull with it. He barged past Eldridge, ran out the door, and sprinted over the back field. He ran, and kept running. Past the tree line. Over roots, under branches. Until he was panting. Until his sides split. He didn’t stop until he made it to the hollow tree. The hammer thudded to the ground. He ducked inside the tree, his legs shaking from exhaustion, and sat like he had on the morning everything had gone wrong. His back against the tree wall, knees tucked to his chest, rocking back and forth.

  Chapter 7

  Ruben

  Ruben sat in the hold of a ship. Bars covered one wall. Wood creaked as the floor shifted beneath him. He’d been sick several times since the big bearded raider had thrown him inside. The smells from the bucket in the corner were fading into the background—like the sobs he heard from the other cells.

  Ruben had dreamt of sailing the seas, of becoming a journeyman blacksmith in foreign lands. It was something he’d long planned, a journey he would have begun on his sixteenth birthday, had his father not died. Instead, he’d stayed in Billings to look after Ella and Marius. Things with Taya became serious. The dream stayed a dream, and he stopped imagining he would ever sail on a ship.

  Never once did he think he’d be a prisoner on one.

  Footsteps came down the wooden stairs. Someone entering the brig. Were they finally getting a meal? His stomach whined—it had started hurting on his second day away from the village, when the raider’s wagons neared the sea. On the third day, the pain became familiar. The prospect of eating felt strange. He remembered, when his mother died, he’d barely eaten for a week. His appetite had left him as he’d mourned. He felt much the same now. He didn’t know if he’d be able to eat even Eldridge’s cooking.

  A dark shadow loomed down the hall.

  Ruben faced the ground with eyes shut. The footsteps stopped in front of his cell. He heard the man’s breathing. The hair on Ruben’s neck prickled, and he felt the beating of his own heart. He knew whose boots he would see if he opened his eyes. He knew if he looked up he’d be staring at their leader. The demon man.

  ‘Hello, Ruben.’ The man’s voice was soft, smooth. Something about it called to Ruben. ‘Open your eyes.’ Ruben obeyed. The man stared down at him. He looked too clean. Freshly bathed, smoothly shaven. He smiled, revealing teeth too white. ‘Good boy.’

  The man held a ring of keys. He flicked through them until he came upon the one he wanted and unlocked Ruben’s cell. The cell door swung open at a wave of the man’s finger, unoiled hinges whining. ‘Rise.’ Ruben rose, stiff muscles protesting, making for unsteady legs. The man stepped forward, coming within arms’ reach.

  Ruben wanted to swing, hit the man in the face and take him down, grip his neck and squeeze the life out of him for all he’d done. He clenched his fists but didn’t make a move. He wasn’t even sure he could.

  The man raised a finger, waving it back and forth. He made a tsk, tsk sound. ‘Now now, don’t be fighting me.’ He took a dagger from his belt.

  The rage in Ruben’s heart turned to fear. He recoiled and tried to step back; his foot barely moved an inch. A force gripped him, like the wind was behind him, pushing him forward. But the air was still in this dank place. The only force around was the demon man.

  The demon stepped in close and put the knife to Ruben’s cheek. ‘I can feel your strength.’ He moved closer, until he whispered in Ruben’s ear, ‘You will yield to me.’ He grasped Ruben’s hair and ripped his head to the side, exposing his neck.

  Ruben tried to struggle free but couldn’t. He was frozen by the man’s will. He kept his eyes open. Could see the blade. It looked fresh from the whetstone. No nicks along its length. It would slice through him as if he were nothing.

  ‘Do it, then.’ Ruben’s words came out mumbled. His tongue dead at the bottom of his mouth.

  The demon man’s eyes widened at Ruben’s words, but only for a second. His smile returned. The dagger met skin.

  Ruben screamed. The blade sliced his neck, and he felt the blood pour out of him. Then the demon man’s lips wrapped around his wound and sucked in the blood. Ruben’s body grew weaker. His eyes drooped. Knees wobbled. The man held him up, drawing more and more blood from his wound.

  Then he stopped. He let go. Ruben collapsed to the ground. Body limp. Eyes staring at the man—the demon, for Ruben was sure he was a demon now.

  The demon’s eyes flashed red, as if the blood had entered them and set them ablaze. They glowed in the dim light of the ship’s brig. Those red eyes set themselves on Ruben. The demon’s tongue shot out, lapping the blood around his lips. He produced a handkerchief from his jacket and dabbed neatly around his mouth. He smiled. His white teeth gone red.

  When he was done with the handkerchief, he held it against Ruben’s wound. He made Ruben hold it there to stop the flow of blood. Then he touched Ruben’s cheek with his finger. Ruben half-expected his nails to be long and sharpened like fox claws, but—like the rest of this man—they were well-kempt and filed smooth.

  ‘Thank you, Ruben. Your blood’—the demon inhaled deeply—‘brings me strength.’

  Ruben was stuck. Stuck behind his eyes. Stuck inside his mind. Even as the demon closed his cell door and the lock clicked, Ruben replayed all that had happened in his mind. The cut. The blood. The demon taking it from him. The red eyes. And the man knew his name. How did he know his name?

  The demon’s footsteps receded down the brig’s hall. It wasn’t until Ruben heard him ascend the stairs that his muscles unlocked and he could move again. He’d been frozen holding the handkerchief to his neck. His hands fell as his muscles gave in. The world slipped away and grew dark.

  Chapter 8

  Ella

  Ella’s feet hurt. Her shoes, already worn when she’d started down the sea road, were sprouting holes in their soles. Every time she looked down she saw her left foot’s big toe peeking out.

  Ella had never walked this far before. Devien, the closest port town, was a two-day trek from Billings. She was on day two, following what she hoped was the wagon wheels from the raiders’ caravan. The tracks were fresh, but she was more than half a day behind them. On the first day, she’d walked as fast she could. She’d slept on the side of the road, under a willow tree, but not for long. She’d woken in the dark, the moon full, and continued her trek. Her feet and legs paying the price for her earlier haste.

  She didn’t know what she would do when she caught up, and she had far too long to contemplate it. All Joslin and the other townsfolk had said kept coming back to her. The pile of dead
she helped burn stuck in her mind whenever she shut her eyes. In Devien, she’d be able to alert the local guard. They might send people to help them rebuild the village, but would they help her catch the raiders? She hadn’t even seen them—the descriptions she had were second-hand, from fearful witnesses.

  The air began to smell different. A breeze rolled toward her as she walked up a hill on the path. What was that smell? The smell of the sea, she thought. Ruben, and their father before him, had mentioned the smell of the sea. She hadn’t believed them—the sea, to her, was just a lot of water. How could that have a smell? And how could you smell it before you saw it?

  Ella pushed her legs to walk faster. Her thighs and calves burned, aching on each step. She could see the crest of the hill, and that smell, if it was the sea, meant she was getting close. She needed to get a look at the raiders, if she hadn’t lost them already. No doubt they’d be boarding a ship, and she would memorise every line of it. She’d never seen a ship before, mind, excepting drawings and a little toy her father had crafted from scrap metal. It was still in the smithy somewhere. Ella crested the hill and stopped. Her legs wobbled at the sudden lack of walking.

  Devien lay on the other side of the hill. Ruben and her father had always referred to it as a port town. She’d expected it to be little bigger than her village, but this place was massive. There were more houses and buildings down there than she knew could be in one place. It must have been at least five times the size of Billings, maybe more. But it wasn’t the town that had made her stop, it was what lay beyond.

  Miles and miles of blue. Like the sky, on a day devoid of clouds, had fallen flat on the ground and decided to stay. Ella drew a deep breath. The sea. That blue down there was water. There were things in the water. Ships. Moving in and out of the harbour or anchored at the docks. She could see so much from atop the hill. They’d never told her how much there was to see.

  Ella lost track of the wagon wheels’ trail as the roads began to converge. Different paths from different villages all met and became one. She could no longer tell where the raiders had gone. The closer she got to the dock town the more she frowned. If the raiders had continued this way and into Devien… they couldn’t cart prisoners through the streets and to the docks, could they? It didn’t make much sense. Each step she took she couldn’t help thinking the raiders must have taken one of those divergent paths. But there was no point turning back. She wouldn’t know which way to go—which path would lead to the sea, and which away from it. If she continued to Devien, at least she might find a navy officer to alert of what had happened back home. Maybe, if she were lucky, they would mount an expedition to find the raiders… to find Ruben.

  After a lifetime of walking, Ella could see the gates of Devien. She’d passed farms and houses on her way but imagined any help she’d find would be within the town’s walls. Ella untied the coin purse from her belt and checked its contents. She wondered how much her neighbours’ offerings would get her here, in a world full of traders whose very goal in life was to acquire coin—at least, that’s how her father had always talked of those at the dock markets.

  She had ten coppers and one whole silver. To her, it was a fortune. She tied it back to her belt and felt a shiver of worry at the thought of being robbed.

  There was a line of people at the gate. Some with carts of livestock—chickens and the like—others with nothing but the packs on their back. Those with livestock mustn’t have travelled far, they probably came to and from the market each trading day. A guard stood by the gate. He wore a sword—far bigger than the one at Ella’s belt—and a leather vest with a crest of a torch emblazoned on its front. A city guard. He waved people through, taking cursory glances at what they brought in.

  Ella was next in line, ready to ask the guard where she could find someone from the navy to talk to. She stepped forward and the guard raised a large hand, laying his other on his sword hilt. ‘Why all the weapons, girl?’

  Ella blinked. She looked at her short sword, then at the unstrung bow in her hands. The raiders surely hadn’t come through here—they would have been stopped fast at the gates, with prisoners or not. She considered her response, then figured the truth was her best option.

  ‘My village, Billings, two days walk from here, was attacked by raiders.’

  The guard dropped his hand. ‘Raiders? Is your village by the water?’

  She shook her head. ‘Inland. Half the village burned, they killed so many… and took prisoners. They took my brother.’ Ella’s eyes watered as she spoke, everything becoming more real as she told them to a stranger.

  ‘Two days inland? I’ve not heard of raiders striking inland before.’ The guard sighed. ‘Come through.’ He walked Ella through the gate and pointed down the lane. ‘Go straight, when you see the Swordfish Tavern, take a left. Keep walking and you’ll find the local guardhouse. You can report it to them.’

  ‘The guardhouse? I want to report it to the navy. The raiders headed down the sea road. They must have a ship somewhere down the coast. They took ten people from my village. I’m not here to report a crime. I’m here to chase them down!’

  ‘Hey, I just let people in and out of the gate.’ The guard left Ella and went back to his post.

  Ella gritted her teeth. No time to get into arguments. She headed down the lane. At least someone at the guardhouse would be able to point her in the right direction. She hoped. She’d walked a few paces when rushed footsteps fell behind her. Ella glanced over her shoulder to see a woman, almost as tall as Ruben, come to stand beside her.

  ‘Guard’s pretty useless, aye?’ The woman wore a long cloak that was just shy of dragging on the ground, sturdy leather boots that looked beaten from heavy use, and had dark hair tied back in a braid.

  ‘Excuse me?’ Ella blinked at the woman.

  ‘I overhead some of your conversation with Mister “just guards the gate” back there.’ She stuck out a hand. ‘Name’s Reena.’

  Ella stared at the hand, then took it. ‘Ella.’ As they shook, Reena’s cloak shifted, revealing a curved sword strapped to her belt. Ella let go. She stepped back and glanced down the lane. ‘I need to get to the guardhouse.’

  ‘May I walk with you?’

  Ella looked at the curved sword, then back at the woman’s face. She wore a warm smile, and her green eyes reminded Ella of her mother. Perhaps she wasn’t someone to be afraid of, despite the sword. Ella contemplated the coins in her purse. Might be enough to pay for a mercenary or two, Joslin had said. Could be that’s what this woman was, scoping out potential clients by the gate.

  Ella nodded and walked down the lane. ‘Alright, but I’m in a rush.’

  ‘Of course. I won’t slow you down.’

  Ella glanced around the town. She’d never been somewhere with so many houses, so many things—so many people. Her head turned this way and that, trying to take it all in while at the same time looking for the Swordfish Tavern.

  They walked for a moment before Reena spoke again. ‘You said raiders attacked your village? Took your brother?’

  Ella looked beside her at the woman. The smile had fallen from her face. ‘Two nights back.’

  Reena’s brow furrowed. ‘Two nights… Did you get a look at their leader?’

  Ella shook her head. ‘I was—’ She looked down the lane. ‘I was hiding in the forest with my younger brother.’ Her voice shook. ‘I should have been there. Should have stopped Ruben from getting taken. If I’d been there—’

  ‘You’d be a prisoner too. Or worse.’

  Ella shook her head again, this time trying to shake away her tears. She remembered to breathe. Telling this woman was harder than telling the guard. ‘The other townsfolk saw the raiders. They told me he could… it’s crazy. They said he could—’

  ‘Move things with his mind?’

  Ella stared at the woman. Was such magic more common than she’d thought? ‘Old Joslin said he was a blood mage.’

  Reena purs
ed her lips. ‘Sounds like old Joslin knows what she’s talking about.’

  Ella stopped. Reena took a few steps before realising, then turned around.

  ‘She told me I couldn’t save him,’ Ella said. ‘That there was no point trying. Was she right about that, too?’

  Reena walked up to Ella and put a hand on her shoulder. ‘I don’t know. All I know is that your brother isn’t the only one he’s taken.’

  ‘The other villagers…’

  Reena shook her head. ‘Not just them. It’s no coincidence that we’ve stumbled upon each other. I heard word the blood mage’s ship was on this coast.’ She pulled a necklace from under her collar. A purple crystal—Ella had never seen its like before. Reena clutched it tight as she spoke. ‘The blood mage took my husband. I don’t know if I’ll ever find him, but I can’t sit around knowing he’s out there, knowing he needs my help.’ She let go of the crystal. It dangled from her neck, swinging slightly. ‘What’s say we search together, hmm?’

  Ella watched the crystal swing. She still choked back tears, choked back doubt. She looked into the strange woman’s eyes. ‘Your husband, when he was taken—did you see the blood mage?’

  Reena hesitated, then nodded. ‘I saw him. I felt his power.’

  ‘And you think we can save them? If… if they’re alive?’

  ‘They’re alive,’ Reena said the words in an even tone, then let out a breath. ‘And he’s not the only one with power.’ She touched a finger to the crystal at her neck, then tucked it back under her collar. ‘So?’ She put out her hand. ‘Partners?’

  Ella stared at the hand again. She didn’t know this woman, not really. What were the odds of a stranger happening upon her at the gate? One who was in the same position as her? Perhaps it was a trick, a ploy—but why? To what end?