by Ryan Cahill
“I… I’m okay. I just feel so weak. I can’t control it.” Rist could hardly catch his breath. There were dark circles under his eyes, and Dahlen would swear to the gods that he looked fifty shades paler than he did before.
“Can’t control what?” Dahlen asked. His breath was starting to return, but with it, stiffness began to set into his joints. He couldn’t wait for the response. They needed to move; he could hear the shouts getting closer. “Can you walk?”
Rist didn’t respond. He stared off into the distance, his eyelids drooping and his mouth agape. Dahlen was certain that if he let go of his shoulders, Rist would collapse. His eyes were open, but he was lost in a dream. What’s wrong with him?
Dahlen dipped his arm under Rist’s and wrapped it around his back, heaving him to his feet. Dahlen’s entire body groaned in pain. The shift in balance almost sent them both crashing down onto the cobblestones. Dahlen attempted to keep Rist’s dead weight upright. His knees ached with the strain. The last few days were catching up on him. He needed to sleep.
“Come on, Rist. We’re not far.” Dahlen sighed heavily as he struggled to push one foot in front of the other. “There’s more than one tunnel out of this city.” Dahlen muttered to himself.
He grimaced as he tossed his shoulders, shifting Rist’s weight to a more comfortable position. It could be worse. At least his feet are moving on their own.
He was fairly sure they were going the right way, but it was hard to tell. He had never actually been through the tunnel under the Blind Goat before. His father had only ever let them use the tunnel under Oliver’s, but the other routes out of the city were most likely guarded, so that was their best bet. Letting out a slight groan, he tossed his shoulders again. His legs were beginning to fold, and Rist wasn’t getting any lighter.
A slight breeze whistled through the empty streets as the pair hobbled along. Rist was barely conscious. The pale wash of moonlight caused the long, cobbled streets to blend in with the grey stone walls of the buildings on either side. The reverberation of their footsteps echoed after each step, sending a slight shiver up Dahlen’s spine.
He turned to look over his shoulder every few seconds, checking down side streets and stairways. It was too quiet for his liking, far quieter than it should have been considering the commotion they had made. The city should have been ablaze with activity, but it wasn’t. There was almost no noise at all. He pushed through the aching pain, picking up his pace.
The Blind Goat wasn’t far away now. Just a few more minutes.
“How noble of you,” a harsh, gravelly voice echoed.
Dahlen stopped in his tracks. The momentum of Rist’s limp body nearly toppled them both. Dahlen twisted around to find the source of the voice. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
“What do I do with you, child? You do not have what I came for, but the one you carry is… interesting.” The voice trailed off, hissing like a snake.
“Who are you?” Dahlen shouted, panic etching its way into his voice. It seemed as if the night had become darker. The light ebbed from the edge of his vision. He immediately looked towards the sky, but he saw the moon as clear as day. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
“I will make you a deal.” The voice now came from behind him. He turned as swiftly as his body would allow.
A man stood in the middle of the street, only a couple of feet away. At least, Dahlen thought it was a man. He looked around six feet tall, with an average build, although it was hard to tell with his body covered in that black hooded robe. The robe seemed darker than the depths of any shadow, almost as if it pulled the light out of the air. In a stark contrast to the light-drinking black, the robe was detailed with swirling brush strokes of vivid blue. Dahlen’s eyes strained the longer he focused on it, a sickly feeling bubbling in his stomach.
The man’s face would have looked as ordinary as any, were it not that his skin was almost translucent, like a thin sheet of parchment stretched over a candle. His lips were thin and brittle, the usual red supplanted by an icy blue. Dahlen let out an audible gasp when his gaze settled on the man’s eyes. They were as black as tar. Dahlen felt that if he were to stare at them for long, they might pull his soul straight out of his body.
The man’s needle-thin lips began to move. “Well, if you’re quite done staring?”
Dahlen’s voice was caught in his throat.
“I will make you a deal, child. For this world can be terribly tedious if you follow the rules.” His attenuated lips twisted into something resembling a grin. “Give me the boy. I will take care of him, and you can just go on your way. It is as simple as relieving yourself of a burden.”
It took a second to register exactly what the man had said. Give him Rist? Dahlen barely knew Rist. He had only met him a few days ago, but to abandon him? That was not in his blood. There was also not a doubt in Dahlen’s mind that whatever this man would do to Rist, he would not take care of him.
Dahlen steeled himself, fighting the knot in his stomach, and forced his mouth to obey him. “I can’t do that,” he said with a lot more strength than he felt.
The man laughed. At least, Dahlen thought it was a laugh. It was similar to the rumbling noise that a wolf makes when threatened. “You know, I hoped that would be your answer. The hard way is invariably more entertaining.” Without warning, the man swung his hand in an arc. An invisible force crashed into Dahlen from head to toe. It knocked the air from his lungs and sent him crashing into a stack of wooden crates. His head spun. He didn’t think there was a single part of his body that wasn’t in pain. He pushed himself to his knees, panting.
The hooded man’s footsteps echoed through the streets. Dahlen followed the sound to see the man standing over Rist’s prone body, his robe flowing in the breeze.
Dahlen reached over his shoulder, feeling relief when his hand tightened around the grip of his sword. He was worried he might have lost them when he was knocked through the air. He was only going to have one shot at this.
Pulling on his last vestiges of energy, in one smooth motion, Dahlen dragged himself to his feet and pulled one of his blades from its sheath. He launched himself at the robed man, clearing the distance between them in one leap, then drove the sword straight through his chest. The blade passed through the cloak as if it weren’t there, slicing into the man’s flesh. He felt the release as it came out the other side, where the man’s heart should have been. Nobody could survive that.
Dahlen collapsed to his knees, his legs unable to hold him upright any longer. His chest heaved up and down, working hard to fill his lungs. He needed to rest. He let his muscles relax.
The harsh sound of a blade sliding free of flesh caused Dahlen to release a defeated sigh. No. That’s not possible.
He lifted his head to see his sword being pulled from the man’s back on its own. He watched as it floated in the air above his head. There was not a single drop of blood along its blade.
Dahlen’s heart sank into his stomach. His throat became as dry as if he had rubbed it with cotton. What is this creature?
It laughed again, the laugh of a wolf. “You humans never do learn, but I like you. You may live.” The creature turned towards Dahlen, its voice like jagged rocks. Rist still lay on the ground a few feet away.
“However,” it hissed, “I cannot let your behaviour go unpunished.”
Before Dahlen could understand what was going on, he was hurtling through the air, thrown around like a rag doll. He felt his back crash into something hard. A wall.
Everything went black.
CHAPTER 18
Cracks
“Calen?” Dann repeated, his eyebrows raised. “I said, are you okay?”
Calen shook his head, attempting to loose the grogginess from his mind. “Yeah, I’m okay, Dann. Just got lost in the fire there for a minute.”
“Be careful. Stare too long into the fire and it will take pieces of you. Well, at least that’s what Dad always said. Lo
ok, there is no way you’re all right. These past few days have been insane. Especially…” Dann trailed off, his eyes becoming heavy.
Calen sighed through his nose, turning his attention back to the fire. That feeling hit him again, as if his heart were about to fall into the pit of his stomach. It still wasn’t real for him, and he would do everything in his power to keep it that way. His entire family. Gone. A piece of him held out hope that Ella hadn’t been in the house, but he knew he was only fooling himself.
“They’ll be back soon.” Calen hadn’t heard Erik approaching; the crackling of the fire covered his footsteps. He sat down on a log beside Calen and Dann, then opened his bag and produced two small wraps of cloth. “Dahlen will see the sign we left him.” Inside the first wrap were strips of dried meat. He tossed some to both Calen and Dann, who thanked him hungrily.
“Hold on. There’s some bread to go with that. It’s a little stale, but it’s better than nothing.”
Dann looked at Erik apologetically as he swallowed half of his dried meat in one mouthful. He reached out his hand to take some of the bread. Calen thanked Erik for the bread, and the three of them sat in silence as they ate.
As he struggled through the stale, bark-like excuse for bread, Calen realised that it had been quite a while since he’d eaten. He didn’t have lunch the day before, and he had eaten nothing in The Traveller’s Rest either. His stomach rumbled. He choked down the rest of the bread and dried meat without complaint.
The sounds of the forest settled into Calen’s mind as the group waited for Dahlen and Rist to traipse through the trees. The birdsong collided with the incessant buzz of insects. The leaves rustled as the night’s breeze brushed shoulders with the trees. A nearby brook burbled. But all of it could not match Therin’s rumbling snores. He was worse than Dann. He had been sleeping since they set up camp, which didn’t surprise Calen. When they found him waiting for them at the tunnel entrance outside Camylin, he had looked like he was about to fall off his horse. Calen didn’t think he had ever seen anyone look that way. It was almost unnatural. There were deep recesses under his eyes, his breathing was laboured, and his already pale skin looked as though it were porcelain. It was as if the energy had been dragged, kicking and screaming, from his body.
Aeson sat behind Therin, his back propped up against the base of a tree. The satchel that sheltered the egg was nestled into his lap, both arms draped around it. His eyes were closed, but Calen was sure he was not asleep. The man never seemed to let his guard down.
Calen turned to face the fire, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets as he did. That’s when he felt it. The scarf he had bought his mother in Milltown. He didn’t have to take it out to see it. Autumn red. Vines of gold and cream woven through it in the pattern of leaves blowing through the wind. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he ripped his hands out of his pockets. He felt the tears welling up behind his eyes. Everything flashed through his mind. His father’s lifeless body laying still, the packed dirt stained with blood. His mother sobbing. His home in flames. The screams. His stomach twisted. His hands trembled. No. Not now.
Dann leapt to his feet, snatching his bow from the ground beside him. He had an arrow nocked faster than Calen could turn his head. “Dann—”
“Quiet,” Dann whispered. He narrowed his eyes as he attempted to see farther into the dark of the forest. Calen followed his gaze but saw nothing except the haze of night, thick with an endless sea of trees. Then he heard it. Someone – or something – was making its way through the undergrowth at the northern edge of the clearing.
Aeson’s eyes opened. He stood, slung the satchel around his back, and drew his swords. Therin joined him, tiredness still set into his face.
“I live by day and die by night. I can fly, I can walk, and I can swim, but I do not get wet. What am I?” came a voice from within the obscurity of the forest.
Erik asked a question with his eyes. Aeson answered with a nod. It was Erik who spoke. “You are the shadow of a bird,” he responded, laughter touching the end of his words. “Now get over here, brother!”
Dahlen stumbled into the firelight. He limped on his right leg. He had a few cuts and bruises on his face, and his clothes were caked in dried blood.
“They made it…” muttered Calen, a smile widening across his face. I can’t lose anyone else.
Erik pulled Dahlen into a tight hug, then drew back and grabbed him by the shoulders, checking him over for injuries. “Well, you didn’t make it easy on yourself, did you?” He laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you a few things.”
“Oh, fuck off, will you!” Dahlen scoffed.
Aeson put his swords back in their scabbards and smiled. He gave an approving nod towards Dahlen, who returned the gesture in kind.
“Where’s Rist?” Dann asked, his tone curt. He peered off into the darkness. Dahlen didn’t reply, but his facial expression changed. The hairs on the back of Calen’s neck stood on end. Not Rist. Please, not Rist.
“I’m sorry,” Dahlen said, his voice meek. He stared at the ground. “I did everything I could. We fought our way through. He held his own, but—”
“What happened?” Calen shouted. His anger surprised him. He hadn’t felt it rising.
“A Fade – I think. I couldn’t do anything, I put my blade right through its heart, but it did nothing. It just tossed me aside.” Dahlen’s voice was vacant, his eyes pleading.
“A Fade? What in the void is a Fade?” Dann asked.
“What would a Fade be doing here, in Camylin?” Aeson said, ignoring Dann’s question.
“It came for the egg – I think,” Therin said. All heads turned to him. “I ran into it on my way to The Wilted Leaf. It had soldiers under its command. I only just escaped. It knew you were in Camylin, so it had to have been after the egg.”
“Fuck the egg,” Calen said. A shiver ran through his body as he took a step closer to Dahlen. “Where is Rist?”
For a few moments, there was silence.
“It took him.”
“It took him?” Dann and Calen repeated at the same time.
“What do you mean it took him?”
Dahlen nodded solemnly. “There was nothing I could do. It threw me around like I was just a plaything. It knocked me unconscious, and when I came to, it was gone, and so was Rist. I’m—”
“You left him?” Calen leapt at Dahlen and shoved him in the chest, causing him to stumble backwards. A droning noise filled the back of Calen’s head. It rose to a crescendo as it tried to outmatch his thumping heart.
Dahlen’s empty stare gave way to anger. “Do that again and I’ll put you on your back. I’m sorry that it took him, but there was nothing I could do.”
“You just fucking left him there? On his own?” Calen shouted, his eyes drawing up level to Dahlen’s. “You’re a coward. You ran when he needed you!” He pushed his hands into Dahlen’s chest again, his blood boiling over.
Dahlen stumbled for half a second, then dug his back foot into the ground. He pivoted and landed a punch on Calen’s nose. Calen felt a sharp pain, and a thump as he hit the ground. “At least I was there. Where were you?”
With his head still spinning, Calen leapt to his feet, anger burning through him. Before he could react, Dann put his arm across his chest. “Let it go, Calen. This is not the time.”
“Let it go?” Calen scoffed, wiping the blood away as it trickled from his nose. “He left Rist to be taken! He left him, Dann!”
“I know.” Dann gripped Calen’s shoulders, touched their foreheads together, and looked him straight in the eye. “And we will find him, Calen, but now is not the time to be fighting… okay?”
Calen’s hands trembled and his breathing was shallow. His heart hammered in his chest. He sighed. “Okay…” his voice dropped to a whisper. “I shouldn’t have left him, Dann. I shouldn’t have left him…”
Dann sighed and pulled Calen into a tight embrace. “We both did, Calen.”
“That was not necess
ary,” Aeson said, turning to Dahlen.
Dahlen was incredulous “What? He shoved me. I—”
Aeson raised his hand in the air and turned away, returning to where he was seated. He slung the satchel around to his lap once more, as if nothing had happened. “Come, son. Tell us what happened, and we will decide what is to be done. Dann, would you see if there are any rabbits caught in the snares we set earlier? I think we could all do with some fresh meat.”
Dann took a deep breath in, then pulled away from Calen. “Yeah, sure.” He snatched up his knife and a length of rope, then placed his hand on Calen’s shoulder. “Come on, come help me with the snares.”
“I think—”
“Calen, help me with the snares.”
Dann was right. Calen’s emotions were all over the place. One minute, he felt like he was at the bottom of a dark pit with no help in sight; the next, he felt like a bull let loose in a sea of red. He had never been so quick to anger. He should not have lunged at Dahlen, even if he did leave Rist to be taken by that creature. But he was never going to say that out loud. The thought of losing Rist just made him explode. They needed to get Rist back. They had to.
Most of the snares were empty, but the four rabbits they found dangling from their hind legs would be enough for a small dinner for the group. It was better than nothing – and definitely better than stale bread and dried meat.
Dahlen was at the end of his story when Calen and Dann returned to the camp. Aeson listened intently and stroked his grey-flecked beard, his eyes focused on something in the dark canopy above.
“Did it give any indication of why it wanted Rist?” Therin interjected, sitting forward.
“No.” Dahlen sighed and shook his head. “It just said that he was… interesting.”
Erik gestured for Calen and Dann to join them.