by A C Rae
Pryce smirked. In one fluid movement he grabbed the bow and let the arrow fall out onto the floor. “You can shove off. This is ours.”
Moving in tandem, Quinn and Pryce moved forward, as the three men started circling them, looking for an opening.
Quinn danced away from a punch, and swung his elbow up in the man's face, stunning him. As the man staggered backwards, roaring with pain and clutching his bleeding nose, Pryce whipped out his pistols and fired a warning shot.
The men turned and fled through the trees.
Pryce gestured for Quinn to get back on Bessie. “We'll go straight home in case there are any more lurking about. We need to go a roundabout way though, to make sure that they aren't following us.”
Quinn nodded, following Pryce's lead as they circumnavigated their way back to Aelin.
Pryce dumped the gold on the table when they came into the house. He poured himself a drink and relaxed languidly in the chair. “Ahhh.” he took a deep sip and put his feet up on the table.
Quinn unbuckled his sword and put it on the table next to the gold. “I'm going to take my first share to Molly.” He announced abruptly.
Pryce narrowed his eyes in surprise. “Are you sure that is such a good idea?”
“I’ve been thinking about it for some time. I owe her an awful lot more than that. She stopped me from starving to death while Wilkins squeezed every last penny from me. I’d better get going now so I can get through the City gates before it gets completely dark. I'll be back in the morning.”
Pryce sighed. “Be careful.” He watched Quinn leave, and then lit a candle. He stared at the flickering flame pensively.
The candle burned away long before he rose from his chair to bed.
Quinn pulled his hat over his eyes as he ducked into an alleyway near his old favourite tavern. After Aelin, the village seemed so much smaller, or perhaps he had outgrown it. He smiled as he passed the pig pen. The whole scene seemed so rural. Instead of a smell of rotten sewage, he could smell a hint of someone's cooking. He took a deep breath as he walked on.
The scents of onion soup wafted more strongly as he walked past an open window, where a dull red glow from the stump of a candle revealed a couple sitting down for supper.
On a whim, he threw a few gold coins through the window on his way past, withdrawing further into the shadows as the surprised couple stuck their heads out of the window. Seeing nothing, the husband whispered his thanks into the night.
Quinn decided to see Jack first. He snuck into the stables. It was not long before he heard Jack's whistling as he led a horse in for the night.
“Jack.” he whispered loudly.
Jack spun around, holding up his broom like a staff. “Who's there? I-I'm armed...”
Quinn pulled his hat up to reveal his face as he moved forward, hands in the air. “It's me.”
“Quinn!” Jack dropped his broom, and embraced him. Quinn shushed him, so he dropped the sound of his voice. “What are you doing here; Wilkins will have you killed if he sees you! Your landlord, those men working for him and I'll warrant half the village would, if given the chance.”
Quinn grimaced. “I'm not here for long. I just came here to see you and Molly, give you some money.” He pressed a substantial amount of gold coins in Jack's hand.
“Wow.” Jack's hand remained outstretched as he contemplated the amount of money he had in his hand. He would be lucky to earn that much in several years. “Where did this come from?”
“I've made it big in Aelin. Listen, I can't stay long. I suggest you hide that money and spend it wisely.”
Jack grinned widely. “I've always wanted to travel. Thanks Quinn. But why me?”
“You and Molly were the only two to believe that I hadn't stolen Bessie.”
“I knew you wouldn't do such a thing. You would never steal from someone; that would be a dishonour to your father. He had very strong morals and I know you do too.”
“Yes, well.” Quinn cleared his throat uncomfortably. “See you around, Jack.”
Quinn decided the best place to catch Molly away from prying eyes was in her bedroom. As the only access to her room at the tavern was through the tavern itself, he climbed the wall and pulled the window open from outside. He was surprised at how easily it slid upwards. He slipped inside and pulled the window down.
This time he had to wait hours, having not contemplated the fact that as a barmaid, Molly would be working until beyond midnight. He grew so bored of waiting for her to come to her room that he fell asleep, only to be woken sharply by Molly's shriek.
He bounced up from the bed to reassure her. “It's me!” He hissed.
Molly nodded; hand on her heart as she fought to steady her breathing. “You bloody idiot!” She cursed at the sound of several footsteps running up the stairs in response to her scream.
Quinn ducked behind the doorway as it was flung open by the owner of the tavern.
“Who is it?! Thieves? Bandits?” He bellowed, brandishing a hot poker through the doorway.
“S-so sorry sir. It was a mouse.”
“For the Ancestors's sake woman, this is the country. That can't have been the first mouse you've ever seen in your bedroom at night.”
“But this one was bigger than any I've seen. Perhaps it was a rat sir.”
The tavern owner frowned. “Still, wasn't worth you shrieking like someone had just been murdered. Stupid woman,” he muttered as he closed the door.
Molly advanced across the room at alarming speed and dragged Quinn away from his hiding spot. She slapped him. “What were you thinking, hiding in my room you idiot.”
Quinn rubbed at where his cheek was already beginning to burn red. “I couldn't walk into the tavern to see you, could I?” He fixed Molly with an accusatory glare.
Molly squirmed under his gaze. “Well if it was that dangerous, what were you doing coming here then?” She asked defensively.
“I came to let you know I'm alright.” He reached for his belt and pulled out a small bag of coins. “And to give you these.”
Molly reached for the bag, and opened it. “Blimey, how much gold is that?” She stared transfixed at the money. “Where did you get it?” She looked at Quinn suspiciously.
Quinn put his hands up. “I'm part of the Merchant's Guild now; an old friend of my father's got me in.”
Molly was mollified. “Good, because I don't want to see you swinging from the gallows for doing something stupid.”
Quinn widened his eyes in an expression of innocence. “Would I do anything that stupid? Please, give me some credit.”
Molly swallowed. “Then thank you, Quinn. This means that I can finally go and live with my Mother in Givele.”
Quinn grinned. “No problem.” He avoided looking her in the eye. “Now it's about time I was leaving. I just need to climb out of the window...”
He was surprised by Molly drawing him into a motherly hug. She kissed him on the cheek, a tear in her eye. “Take care, Quinn.”
Quinn waved his hat in a gentlemanly manner. “Well of course.” He pulled himself through the window, and lowered himself from the sill back onto the ground. Molly watched him anxiously through the window until he disappeared from view.
CHAPTER SIX
“How many of us have stared in wonder at the imposing gates of the Witches Guild and peeked at the tops of the massive spires, speculating what may transpire within its walls. They guard their secrets well, and what little power they allow to be demonstrated in the open is likely to be a mere shadow of what they are truly capable of.”
Book VII, A Guide to Avarria
Lord Cassian strode irritably into the inner tower of the Witches Guild. He had been urgently summoned by the Grand Witch, Lady Thana, as though he had nothing better to do than listen again to their frightened mumbling and insistence on hiding in the shadows.
A student hurrying on their way to their room before curfew, scrambled out of his way before he had the pleasure of pushing them out of th
e way with a sharply uttered spell. Sighing at the loss of an outlet for his frustration, he turned the corner and sensed the presence of his ally, Lady Loralei. Her cold beauty quickened his pulse even as he armed himself against the silent whispering of her magic. Her speciality was luring men to do her depraved bidding, and even though he found himself sorely tempted on occasion, he was in no mood for relieving his frustration with passion tonight.
“My lord.” She purred, kissing the air either side of his cheeks. “I see you are none too pleased to be summoned.”
He fixed her with an ice blue stare. “I should think that would be obvious. What is the point of this summons? Another fortune teller caught providing an actual fortune to an outsider? A healer actually healing someone rather than handing out herbs and waving smoke?”
Lady Loralei smirked knowingly. “For once this is something interesting…”
“A new power?”
She nodded. Lord Cassian rolled his eyes. “The council are always overreacting. If I had a copper coin for every time we were summoned in order to help track down the latest Uninitiated One, only for them to have less power than I have in my little finger, I would be twice as rich as I am now.”
Lady Lorelei grinned at his not so subtle reference to his immense wealth. “I believe this time Lady Thana may be onto something. Our Grand Witch may be over paranoid at times but this time I have heard whispers elsewhere, of the fulfilment of the prophecy. Her obsession may in fact be closer to the truth than any of us had thought.” She frowned delicately at Lord Cassian’s snort in reply. “You’ll see…” She sashayed around the corner, deliberately swaying her hips suggestively.
Increasingly short tempered, Lord Cassian rounded the corner, viciously slamming the door to the Inner Circle council room open. He earned himself a sharp glare from many of the other members of the Inner Circle, most notably from Lady Karla, who was a constant critic of anything slightly against the rules, and therefore a harsh critic of his very existence. He smiled as though he was meeting them for afternoon tea, enjoying how he was adding to her irritation. “What supposedly strong Uninitiated One have we found today?”
Lady Thana was too absorbed in staring into the sickly purple flames she often conjured in order to seek out new talent. Or, if you were cynical, like Lord Thomas, new threats to her paranoid secrecy. She finally looked up from the conjuring vessel. “Ah, you are here at last Lord Cassian. I need all of your strength to help me trace this Uninitiated One. They are eluding me; it appears someone has put significant effort into hiding them.”
Lord Cassian failed to hide his surprise. No one had been hidden from Lady Thana’s carefully honed tracing spells for decades. He switched to sarcasm in order to cover his surprise. “What? Losing your touch in your old age?”
Lady Karla hissed at him. “Have some respect! You may think the rest of us are beneath you but one day you may find yourself brought low, and I for one will enjoy looking down on you!”
Lord Cassian feigned deafness. Lady Thana simply continued as though he had said nothing. “Step into the circle, we have no more time to waste.”
He stepped into his space in the circle, and drew his hood over his head. They raised their hands above their heads, twelve hooded figures and Lady Thana in the centre, staring over her deep copper bowl.
Their hands began to glow with innate power as they chanted the spell to reveal: “Onhlidan, onhildan… onhlidan…” They directed the power from their hands towards the purple flames that flickered faster and faster, the room vibrating with the immense power generated by the entire Inner Circle and the Grand Witch, the most powerful witches in Avarria.
Lady Thana boomed. “Onhlidan!”
Within the flames, dark shapes began to form, spinning into the depths and rising again. The shape took the form of someone riding on a horse, their cloak billowing out from behind them. The flames dipped then rose, lighting the intense face of Lady Thana, deepening her wrinkles from their sickly glow.
The flames snuffed out with an intense burst of wind, casting them all into darkness.
Lord Alaunus, the healer of the group, recovered first. “Beorht.” He entoned, lighting the candles in the room to reveal their disarray.
This time, Lord Cassian truly failed to disguise his absolute shock.
The prophecy was true.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“The Hangman’s Gibbet is kept outside of Aelin, opposite the Treacherous Woods. It is never empty of the remains of some wretch, swinging, as a warning to all who might contemplate doing something against the laws of the Ancestors and Avarria.”
Book IV, A Guide to Avarria
The wind whipped up into a frenzy, causing Quinn to shiver as he stared out at the massed crowd. They stared back, faces blank, unrelenting. His feet were bare and bloody on the wooden boards as he was pushed forward by an unseen hand.
He tried not to trip; his hands were bound, the rope rough against his wrists. He propped himself up against a wooden post, only to reel back. A scaffold. He shook his head, faster, faster as he moaned. “No, no, no.”
A voice from beside him cleared his throat, and spoke to the crowd. “For his crimes committed during his time spent as a highwayman, Quinn Tannin is to be hung by the neck until dead.” Quinn turned, to discover the noose man was his father.
“Father... no, please. I did it for good. Please.” His father stayed silent, his accusatory glare piercing him, fixing him there. He moved forward, pushing Quinn to stand up onto the stool, ignoring the pleas of mercy which now ran in an unceasing torrent from his mouth.
He fixed the noose around his neck.
Quinn squeezed his eyes tightly shut as his feet slipped and struggled to remain balanced on the stool, the jeers of the crowd ringing in his ears. He felt the inevitable whoosh of falling as the stool was kicked roughly away, the rope closing sharply around his throat.
Eyes opening wide and gasping deeply for air, Quinn woke in terror, rolling out of bed and twisting on the floor where his sheets had entangled themselves around his limbs. He vaguely registered that the screaming noise was coming from him. He kicked his way out of his sheets, doubling over as he forced himself to breathe, holding a shaking hand to his throat.
Pryce appeared in the doorway. “Quinn.” He said gently.
Quinn ignored him, rocking back and forth on the floor as he clutched his arms tightly across his chest.
Pryce walked over to him and gently squeezed his shoulder. “Quinn.” He said softly.
Quinn finally looked up, his eyes haunted. “Ancestors save me.” he croaked. “The dream I just had.” He took a deep breath, holding his hands out as he spent a moment trying to stop his hands from violently quivering. “I dreamt I was hanged. And Father was the one doing the hanging.”
Pryce looked at him, concerned. “Look, if working with me is causing you to have nightmares like this.” He trailed off awkwardly, his hands slack at his sides.
“No. I'm good.” Quinn said vehemently. “What we do is good.”
Pryce held his hands up in surrender. “If you have the slightest amount of doubt...”
“No. It was just something Molly said as I left her house earlier. Stuck in my head and came out as an odd dream. Seriously.” He forced a reassuring smile, praying that Pryce would believe it.
Pryce did. “I hope you didn't eat cheese.” He joked. He yawned widely. “I'm off back to bed.”
Quinn pulled himself and his sheets back onto the bed. His smile fell flat once Pryce closed the door.
He huddled under the sheets miserably and did not go back to sleep until dawn.
Later in the tavern, Quinn threw his cards on the table in disgust as Pryce grinned. Pryce leaned over to the middle of the table and dragged the pile of coins over to his side. “Too bad my friend!” He got up and slapped Quinn on the shoulder. “Up you get. We've got work to do!” He winked and flipped a coin over to the barman. “Keep the change!” he called as they left.
Quinn ex
pertly dodged the prying fingers of a pickpocket as they walked down a crowded alley. “You're in a good mood.” He commented, upping his pace to long strides to keep up with Pryce.
“I've had the most marvellous tip off.” He tossed a coin into the cup of a one-legged beggar, who promptly disappeared down the alley before the coin had even dispensed with making its rattling noise at the bottom of the cup. Quinn mused for a moment on how yet another ‘one-legged’ beggar had suddenly gained the use of two legs before turning back to Pryce.
“Excellent.” He quickened his pace to keep up with Pryce. “You know how much I hate perching in trees.” He added in an undertone.
Pryce looked up at the sun. “We must hurry. We spent far too long in the tavern.”
Within moments they were at their front door. Pryce gestured to Quinn to get inside quickly. By the time Quinn closed the door, Pryce had already packed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “There's a coach heading to Aelin carrying Lord Winsworth.”
Quinn whistled softly. “And he is not going to have a heavy guard?”
“He believes he is travelling in secret. He has business in Aelin with Lord Cassian.”
“What would he want with him?” Quinn scowled. Lord Cassian was well known for his cruelty, yet as King Soren's favourite any atrocities he committed were ignored by the authorities. His bloodlines were impeccable which already made him a candidate for preferential treatment. However on top of that, his handsome appearance, keen wit and wealth, coupled with the fact that his father had once saved the last King's life, had made him untouchable at court. “More important, should we really get involved with anything that Lord Cassian has his hand in?”
“Ha! I never thought I'd see the day when you start fussing like an old housewife.” Pryce waved away Quinn's suggestion. “It's not Lord Cassian we are stealing from, it's Lord Winsworth. Calm down and get moving for Ancestor’s sake.”
Quinn grinned sheepishly. “Fine, whatever you say.” He tucked his eye mask firmly in his pouch.