The Bearer's Burden (Phantom Pact Book 1)

by Chad Queen

  Ashlyn would not be put off. “I will not. You are Protector of the Realm, and you are bound to serve and assist in any capacity requested of you by a member of the royal court. Besides, you will be rewarded handsomely for your service.”

  “Oh, of course, I had forgotten. Come right in.” The door did not budge.

  She sniffed, growing even more irritated. “You know I can’t move this door.”

  He opened the door a crack. She could see an open pack lying behind him. “Listen, I don’t have time for this. Every time a nobleman’s dog dies, one of you comes knocking at my door. You are in danger, and you’d best take your leave.” The door slammed shut once more.

  “Danger? Are you threatening me?” She pounded on the heavy door with both fists. The sound of rummaging continued from behind the door.

  She had heard rumors Elegy had killed a man in Wilks, and that brought her a good measure of unease. She chose not to believe the rumors—yet he was a Bearer… If he were no longer the man she believed him to be, she would have no choice but to investigate Rolan’s murder on her own. It was not a heartening prospect. Being a princess had its advantages, but there were places where not being recognized was important. No one wanted to get mixed up with a princess. Royalty attracted too much attention, and too much attention attracted spies. And spies were bad for business.

  I’m going to need to try a different tack, she thought. She knocked on the door again. “It’s not raiders.”

  The commotion from inside ceased. A moment later, the door opened wide enough that she could see his face. It had been a year since she last saw him, but she did not remember him having eyes of silver. They were like the color of smoke from a dying campfire. He did not look much older than she remembered, but the years were reflected in those eyes. She had seen the same look in soldiers who had survived the war, the ones who had seen real battle. Ashlyn stepped closer and took the opportunity to speak. “So, it is true. You have been searching for the taken?”

  His eyes searched her own, as if trying to decide whether she could be trusted.

  “My uncle was as well…and now he is dead.” He opened the door farther at this. Ashlyn continued, “If you are still a true Bearer, defender of the dead, you will help me.”

  The man looked at her, eyes narrowed. “Hells,” he said finally. He disappeared from the doorway. She took it as an invitation.

  When she entered the house, Elegy slammed the heavy door shut with inhuman ease. He brushed past her and took a dusty lamp off the hearth.

  The boarded windows did not afford much light. As her eyes adjusted, she did not see the comfortable home of a decorated soldier; rather, the home was stripped bare, with the occasional practical item: a chipped plate, a rusted cup, a threadbare blanket. But what caught her eye was the open pack near the threshold. An old tome, covered in white dust save for the fresh fingerprints around the spine, sat aside it.

  “Is that…?” she started.

  He looked over to her and nodded. “An original translation.”

  “I thought they had all been—” She stopped herself, embarrassed.

  “Destroyed. Yes, we have the royal decree to thank for that, don’t we?” He carefully picked up the book and wrapped it in a worn tatter of tanned leather.

  “You are a follower of the Traveler?”

  He paused, and she noticed him touch the intricate silver band on his right hand. “My wife is—was—a scholar. It was her most prized possession.” He stood up. “What information do you have about the taken? Be quick about it.”

  “I will tell you once you agree to help me.”

  He laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t have time for games. More precisely, we don’t have time for games. You came to me. If you won’t show me what you have, you’re free to go.” He gestured to the door, eyes fixed on her.

  She bit her lip. What did she have to lose? She sighed and produced a small note from within her sleeve, which she held out to him.

  Elegy took the note and turned it over in his hands. The daub of wax that sealed it had already been broken, but you could still make out the lettering of the initials “OP”. Cade furrowed his brow, studying the symbol.

  “Order of the Phantom,” Ashlyn cut in. “That’s what the seal represents. It’s the name of the intelligence network my uncle runs…or, used to run.”

  Cade nodded, unfolded the letter and began to read. It didn’t say much, and she had committed it to memory already, just in case:

  Rolan—Rynth no longer safe. Leaving first railbus out. We have proof the disappearances are not by the hand of raiders. We know Liam is involved. Seek out Karessa in Solak. She will guide you to the Foundation. Be always vigilant.

  —Faye

  “It’s not much, but if we can track down this contact in Solak…” Ashlyn said hopefully.

  “Why me? You have your own spies. Why not have them track down this person?”

  Ashlyn bit her lip.

  He sighed. “You want me to form a pact with your uncle.”

  Ashlyn nodded. “He could help us. And…”

  “You want revenge.”

  She fell silent.

  “I know someone who might help find the contact in Solak,” Cade said, breaking the silence.

  Ashlyn brightened. “Let’s go talk to them!”

  He shook his head. “Can’t.”

  Ashlyn frowned. “What? Why not?”

  “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t some scrap of intrigue to busy yourself with when your head has grown weary of its tiara. Go back home to your father.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “My father couldn’t care less about me. I’m here of my own volition.” She was quiet for a moment, then sighed. “Many years ago, I passed a servant as he carried the royal seal to my father’s court. The man—Gilliam was his name—tripped, and the seal tumbled out of its box, splitting it into two. The look on his face…I’ve never seen anyone so terrified.” She shook her head, cleared her throat, and continued. “I had seen people put to death for far less. When the head of the guard asked what happened, I told him I was the one responsible.”

  Elegy’s eyes followed her as she spoke, steady yet impassive.

  “I was imprisoned in a cell for a month’s time, with no clean water and little food. But I would do it all the same if I had to. The look on Gilliam’s face when I stepped forward is one I’ll never forget. The incredulity…he expected me not to save him.”

  She faced the Bearer. “I realize what it means, me coming here. And it’s my responsibility to do what I can for Rolan, and for my kingdom.”

  He nodded as she fell silent. His eyes seemed able to peer into her thoughts. Not an uncommon feeling when dealing with Bearers, she remembered. Many gamblers refused to play cards with them for the same reason. “Great story. Still can’t help you.”

  Ashlyn’s face fell. “You don’t believe me?”

  “I believe you, but I’ve been following this for too long, and you’ll only get in the way.”

  Before she could reply, he picked the lamp back up and crossed into the adjoining room. She followed, annoyed but determined, and gasped at what greeted her. A tall pile of twisted and broken furniture lay next to the kitchen. Elegy pulled the top off the lamp and poured its fuel over the display.

  “What is that?” was all she could manage.

  “Kerosene.”

  “Yes, but what is all this for?” She felt her face grow hot. She was growing tired of being treated in this manner.

  “You were followed,” he said matter-of-factly.

  She looked at him evenly. As a princess, she was used to being underestimated and discounted. It had its uses, this tendency to underestimate her, but it caused her no end of grief.

  “Correct. Two agents. One agent is my father’s. He is assigned to me whenever I go out, though I’m not supposed to know. I imagine he is quite excited to have some adventure in his otherwise dull routine.” She continued, “The other I’m not so sure about. Lik
ely a freelancer looking for a big score.”

  He looked impressed. “Not bad.”

  She couldn’t help but let a small grin escape.

  “Too bad it’s wrong,” he said as he continued to spread the kerosene around the pile.

  “What?”

  “You’ve probably picked up a lot more than that, traveling by yourself like this. And I assume you’ve been asking people around here about me?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  She heard a bell ring.

  “Time’s up,” Elegy said.

  Another bell rang. She heard him curse.

  “What is…” was all she could get out before he lunged at her, scooping her up in his arms. He turned as she heard the window next to her shatter. His arms felt cold and rigid, and she felt his body jerk, as if something had hit him with tremendous force. She tried to wrest herself free, but she found his grasp unyielding, as if trapped in a statue’s embrace.

  “Time to go.” She felt his arms relax, and he set her down upon the wooden planks of the small house. He reached into a small indentation in one of the boards and threw open a hatch that appeared to lead underneath the kitchen. He ushered her through the hatch, but not before she saw his hand turn a dark brown. She almost thought it a trick of the light until she saw him strike a match on his palm and toss it onto the pile of broken furniture. He’s encoding, she thought. Encoding was all but illegal in Toltaire, so his casual use of it caught her off-guard. The color retreated, and he followed her down.

  The darkness below fell away as Elegy fired another match and lit a large candle next to him. She gasped as she made out a small, winding passageway under the house. He pointed to the tunnel. “This way.”

  She struggled to keep up with him, her shoulders brushing the sides of the cramped passage. She wanted to ask him the thousand different questions racing through her mind, but she feared their pursuers might overhear. Despite her shock, she marveled at the time required to craft such an escape. She might have been impressed if she wasn’t so scared.

  The passage widened as they made their way through. The air was thin and smelled of rust and stale ash. She reached out in the dim light and touched the wall.

  “Stone?” She frowned, confused. How did he make this tunnel? Cade’s quick pace left her farther in the darkness, so she turned back to catch up with him. “Ouch!” she exclaimed, tripping over a metal object. Cade backtracked to her. With the glow of the candlelight, she could see a pickax at her feet.

  “A mine?”

  Cade nodded. “Most of the towns in the Ends only exist because of the mining industry around here. Come, we must hurry.”

  She rubbed her foot and stood up. “Where are we going?”

  “The rail station. I will take you as far as Solak. There you can catch a Pathway railbus back to Toltaire.”

  She frowned. “You are a Coda master. Aren’t you supposed to want to help people?”

  He stopped and turned to face her. “What do you know about Coda? Please, regale me.” His tone was mocking, but he remained expressionless.

  Ashlyn set her jaw and tried to match his stoic gaze. “I know it is a religion about fighting, based on the teachings of the Traveler. And that you are honor-bound to defend others.”

  He winced at her description and shook his head. “It’s not a religion. What do they teach you in Toltaire?”

  She felt her face flush and was angry with herself for letting him get to her, which made her face flush even more. Why did she care what this man thought?

  Cade regarded her for a moment and seemed to take pity on her embarrassment. He sighed. “It’s a belief. A belief it is the duty of the living to guide the phantoms, which cannot rest. The ‘fighting,’ as you put it, is a martial art based around the use of the phantoms.”

  “Right. So, you do help people,” she said plainly.

  “Yes, but thankfully the dead talk less. Let’s keep going.”

  They came to the end of the winding mine shaft, where a large wooden hatch was set above them. Cade threw the hatch and disappeared through the opening. She waited for a hand that did not come. Ashlyn struggled to pull herself out of the makeshift exit, but instead of standing at the top, she tripped and fell face-first onto the hard earth.

  She heard a loud noise and could see in the distance Cade’s house crackle and collapse. She looked at Cade, who just waved at the shell of a house, a ghost of a smile on his lips and sadness in his eyes. Peculiar.

  Being face down in dirt, thousands of miles away from home, and traveling with a Bearer she was no closer to trusting, had Ashlyn again second-guessing her entire plan.

  Mistake or no, I will see this through to the end.

  5

  Followed

  The art of Coda revolves around developing a deep connection to the realms beyond our sight. One must embrace the philosophy of Coda if they are to become true Bearers. Without this, madness will consume.

  —Excerpt from The Book of the Traveler

  “You’re going the wrong way,” Cade said to Ashlyn as the crush of people from the railbuses weaved past them at the Solak station. She looked at him without saying a word. He pointed to the platform on the opposite end of the station. A sleek, contoured railbus engine, its brushed metal still looking brand new despite it being centuries old, was boarding passengers. “This is a Pathway station, so that train there is the fastest route back to Toltaire.” The Ancients built the Pathways, a rail network, to connect their major cities. Now that the Pathway trains had been activated by the Wraiths with the signing of the Accord, every citizen of Chalice had easy and reliable passage to any city connected to the Pathways.

  He continued walking. The Nocturne dose he had taken was in full effect, providing him the quietness of mind he needed to think about his next move.

  He sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose as he emerged from the exit. Solak had an unpleasant odor, one Cade could never quite place. It was an engine that fueled itself on equal parts depravity and opulence. Perhaps this is the exhaust, he thought.

  “What’s that smell?” Ashlyn asked, holding her nose.

  “Stop following me. I only agreed to take you as far as Solak.”

  “Last time I checked, I was the princess. I don’t take orders.” She pulled her hair back, securing it with a light blue ribbon.

  Cade turned and started down the street.

  Ashlyn followed a step behind. “Is it always this busy here? I thought a city near the outer edge of the Pathways would be a little more…quiet.”

  It was, in fact, a lot busier than normal. Cade knew why, and he hoped it wouldn’t stop him from getting out of the city.

  “It’s the Orange Festival.”

  “Really, the Orange Festival? That’s today? How exciting, I’ve always wanted to see a festival in Solak!”

  He grimaced. There was always a festival in Solak. It was a tourist destination. Next week it would be the blue festival, or the flower festival, or the beer festival. It didn’t matter what week you came.

  “For a girl investigating a murder, you sure have a lot of time on your hands.”

  She fell silent. It was more proof to Cade that she was not prepared for what she set out to accomplish.

  “Where are we off to?” she said, looking around.

  Cade shook his head as he put his encoding rings back on. Thankfully, Solak did not have the same distaste for Bearers as the towns of the Ends.

  A carriage sped across the busy street, despite the throng of people crossing, and nearly hit an unwitting pedestrian—likely some too-important merchant. Cade walked close as it was about to pass him, encoded to the ring of pure diamond on his right hand, and grabbed the back of the carriage, whisking him down the street.

  The main street off the station relayed the many splendors available to the affluent. There were restaurants specializing in exotic foreign cuisine, with lines of people trailing out of their doors. Bespoke fashion designers for hire demonstrated the latest tren
ds to enraptured onlookers with live models. Theater buskers pitched the promise of the new show from the capital. But what stood out the most were the vibrant and garish gambling dens where the fools rich enough to play parted with their ill-earned money. At one time he had thought it all a wonder, but now he knew better.

  He didn’t have far to go. He leapt off the back of the carriage when he saw the bright red letters of The Seer Tavern.

  Cade entered the tavern through the thick wooden door. He found an empty table and sat down. A slender bar maiden, not even old enough to drink but with the clever face of someone who grew up quick, came to take his order. “What’ll you have?”

  Cade placed a small pin on the table. It was military issue and consisted of four interlocking rings of dull brass. Her eyes flickered and she nodded, retreating into the back room.

  Cade looked around the tavern. There were only a handful of patrons, and most seemed content gazing into their oversized steins. They might not be spies, but they were likely the type to sell information to the right buyer, and Solak was near bursting with buyers. Men who frequented bars this early in the day were seldom upstanding citizens.

  As Cade sat back in the sturdy chair, the large door in the front of the bar slammed open, catching the attention of Cade and the rest of the inebriated patrons. There stood the princess, panting and furious, scanning the room.

  Hells.

  Seeing Cade, her eyes narrowed to slits and she marched to the table and sat down.

  He rubbed his temples. “Subtle.”

  “How dare—” she began, but Cade raised his hand and leaned in close.

  “Listen, the bigger the scene you make here, the more difficult you’re going to make it to get out of here. You think the lowlifes here wouldn’t turn you in for a few chipcoins if they recognized you?” Her eyes darted to a man who was watching them. Cade shook his head. “A princess without her guard? What a price that information would fetch.”

  She closed her mouth and just glared at him.

  The door behind the bar opened, and a tall, wiry man who looked about ten years Cade’s senior, walked up to them. Cade stood and held out his hand. “Seek, old friend, I figured I would find you here.”