by J. M. Martin
Yes, thank you, I'm well aware this is sounding like a soppy love story and you'll have to forgive me for a little romantic reminiscing. We were very much in love and in the middle of a crime spree the likes of which Acanthia hadn't witnessed in generations due to the Guild's peace.
Back to my point. With each murder she lost a little more of who she used to be and became more terrifying. To my count she killed twelve people in all, nine of whom were lawmen.
We made our way back to Truridge under the presumption that, as we had never hit the same city twice, the Guild would never expect us there. We were wrong, of course. We had caused enough chaos and presented our arses to the authority one too many times, and the real power in Acanthia was no longer willing to stand idly by. Looking back now I wonder why it took the Guild as long as it did to deal with us.
Having amassed a large fortune we had become used to some of the finer things in life. On the road, we slept under the stars but in civilization, we rented luxurious rooms at the finest inns, and we ate and drank well and tested out the bed nightly.
On our first night back in Truridge, and our last night together, we rented the largest room in Bien'vlle's Parlour, a truly ostentatious inn that served three-course meals, boasted no less than six different types of ale, and even sported its own bath house out back. We ate our fill, I drank my body weight in alcohol, and retired to our room to disturb the neighbors.
Now anyone who enjoys the odd tipple like me will recognize the pain of waking in the middle of the night with such a pressing need to urinate that it is, in fact, painful to move. This was one such night, and it took all the willpower I possessed not to just release my agonizing bladder right there in the bed and, let me assure you, it would neither be the first nor the last time I had done just such a thing. But no matter what you may think of me at this point, I am not the type of man to piss on a lady, and Elize was still very much asleep.
I crept from the room, descended the stairs, and made my way, stumbling with every step, to the bathhouse where I promptly emptied my bladder and passed out.
Not the most noble of actions for a man of my prestigious birth, but it saved my life.
I woke again to an incessant tapping on my shoulder and, honestly, I would very much like to have ignored it, but the offending party became more and more insistent. Opening my eyes I saw a man, almost a boy, dressed in black with long, dark hair and a dirt smudged face. He had a dagger in one hand and, I remember, a little clay gourd hanging from his belt. A strange thing to remember, you may think, but I have seen those gourds before and know what they contain, and I have always been partial to a sniffter of ‘sinthe. Regardless, I managed to curtail my urge to steal the boy's drink and, instead, looked upon him with complete bemusement. It took me a good few moments to realize he was a member of the Guild.
“Stay quiet,” the boy hissed. “Unregistered tappers upstairs. There might be some trouble.”
I almost laughed. The boy, no doubt new to the Guild, had mistaken me for just another drunk passed out on a toilet.
“Head off to a tavern,” the boy insisted. “Come back to your room in the morning. It'll all be over by then.”
I thought about it. The lad's back was turned and my boot knife was sharp. It would have been an easy thing to silence him, rush back into the inn, and warn Elize. We would have to fight our way out and that would be dangerous, but we could maybe have made it. And I did love her. And I believe she loved me. It would have been an easy thing, but it was a much easier thing to simply walk away, and I do gravitate towards the easy way out.
Not so romantic now, I think you'll all agree, and you probably think me a right and proper cur. I could have saved Elize but…well…I'm just not the savior type, I'm afraid. Much more likely to lead astray which, with Elize, is exactly what I did. The Guild is not forgiving to those who subvert its authority and, though I do not know Elize's fate, I do not believe it ended peacefully.
To end my story, I shall say I ran. I made it to the docks where I spotted the Fortune, and I knew the ship's Captain well. He picked me up, hid me in the hold, and that was the last time I saw Acanthia, and the last time I used the name Ches N'tt.
Perhaps this was not the swashbuckling jaunt you were expecting, but I hope you enjoyed my tale all the same. I know you did, sir, as you've been touching yourself the entire time I've been talking.
Now, who would like to buy me a drink?
To Steal the Moon
Rebecca Lovatt
Rebecca Lovatt is a Canadian reviewer and editor, with far too many books and not enough shelves. Rebecca spends her days writing whimsical tales and perusing through social media in an attempt to procrastinate from her studies. She co-edited the Neverland's Library anthology which was released in 2014, and is the editor of the forthcoming Timeless Tales anthology. Her interviews, ramblings, and book reviews can be found on her site, The Arched Doorway.
~
There were many ways Willem Al'Caryth had pictured the night of his betrothal going. Many included feasting, dancing, drinking, and most of all, spending the night with his bride-to-be.
Incidentally, none of them included being sent across the world, in the blink of an eye, to steal the moon. It was odd, how these things seemed to happen. All part of being a fae prince, he supposed.
From his rooftop perch, he watched over the palace grounds, studying the guard patrol and learning the layout. The guards down here were simple, well-trained, and stuck to their pattern. 25 steps, 8 seconds, turn, walk back, meet with another guard, praise the Mother and the Empress. Repeat. Those on the rooftop would be a bit more of an issue. By his best guess there were four, but they stuck to no discernible pattern he could make out from his perch.
When it came down to it, getting in would be no issue. If he so chose, he could simply walk through the front doors and none would question him. He was of the Third Honor, only half a step below the empress herself, outranking all others within the palace. No, getting in was no problem, it never was. Getting out without starting a war was an entirely different matter. He was going to need to be quick, if he were to have the mask of darkness as an advantage, he would have to get in and out before Haeyn and the seven sisters rose. He would need stealth, cunning. With a short yell, he slipped off the top of the low rooftop and fell, landing in a painful heap on the grass below.
Amber light spilled toward him, and the sound of movement in the long grass drew closer and closer. He groaned, heart racing as he crawled and hid in the alcove beneath the hut's window, hiding deep within the darkness. Light from the crystal torches swept across the field, thankfully deepening the shadows in which he hid.
“You hear something?” one called to another.
“Thought so, might have just been a coon though. Couldn't hurt to check it out,” another voice, this one deeper, responded.
Minutes passed as the dark figure with the crystalline torch moved warily through the field, at times only an arm’s length away from Willem's huddled figure. With the blood pounding in his ears, he hardly noticed the guard moving away and calling that there was nothing to be found. Already though, Haeyn was beginning to peek about the horizon, Talyn with it. There was no more time to waste. If he was to do this tonight, he needed to do it now. With a grunt, Willem ran across the short stretch of grass, pressing himself against the palace's stone wall, bruised limbs screaming in protest. His Night Cloak wrapped around him, masking his form. Soon though, with the light of the sisters and Haeyn, it would be too bright for the cloak to be of any use.
To his luck, the first he had seen of it this night, none of the guards had noticed the strange blur that moved across the field. Though, it was equally likely that if any had seen him, they had assumed it a trick of the light. Now, he thought with a grin, was when things would truly get interesting. All ground floor entrances were guarded, even the servants' entrance, and while he was sure there were secret passages, they were likely blood-bound, or masked by some other magic. Stol
en magics, he reminded himself. Tiana had made it clear that any and all magics were property of the fae. Else it was considered stolen. He didn't quite agree, but well, he was clearly exempt to that rule now…and really, the lady probably knew best. If she wanted him to steal the Moon, well, by the seven sisters, he would.
Eventually, as a low cloud obscured some of Haeyn's light, and the night's darkness once again deepened, he climbed. The rooftop above was manned, though not by many. The precaution seemed odd to him, despite the fact that he was going to do what they were there to protect against. The land was at peace, and the doors of the palace were open to any, at all hours of the day and night. Only a fool would choose to climb up a stone wall when an open door invited. Only a love sick fool.
#
Hands raw from the climb, and surrounded by four armed guards, Willem supposed his situation could have been worse. He could have fallen to his death halfway up the wall, he could have been killed on the spot, or well, he could already be on his way to the prisons. All in all, standing there, unshackled and notably not dead, was an extremely fortunate turn of events. There was a disturbing lack of places to hide up here anyways, so it was best to get it over with.
“Stranger, I will only ask this once more. What is your purpose this night?” said the guard in front of him. A nervous youth, the guard was younger than Willem by a couple summers, he couldn't have been older than 18 years.
“My purpose?” Willem said lazily with a smile. “I think the true question is, dear lad, what is your purpose? Is the palace not public?”
“Yes, but—”
“So, are you not then wrongfully questioning me? I am of the public, mostly. Though, my fiancée might disagree.”
“All visitors are required to state their business and purpose for visiting the palace at the gates, by order of the Empress,” the guard said, running his hand through his sandy hair, but staying true to his training. Willem could respect that in a man, even if it was a useless sentiment.
“Kid, what's your name?” he asked, still ignoring the enquiries, and the other three guards surrounding him. The kid looked to the other three, who, he presumed, shrugged. “Jakum, Lieutenant of the Thorn Guard.”
“Well, Jakum of the Prickly Guard. If you and your men were wise, you would take this opportunity to stand down. I’m busy, and you’re beginning to annoy me. You may leave now, and your transgressions will be forgotten.” The guard blanched visibly, but again, to his credit, held his ground. By the light, these people were stubborn.
“I will have your name, sir.” Jakum sounded nervous, and unsure of himself. That was good. Already, he would be feeling his authority diminish. Perhaps, if he was lucky, Willem wouldn't have to kill them.
“You may call me Willem Jael Al'Caryth. I am he who is fool enough to tame the very forces of life and chain himself to them. I am the betrothed of High Lady Tiana Caryth of the fae. You have no authority over me, and you will leave.” In what he hoped was a casual gesture, he put his left hand in his back pocket, feeling for the sachets hidden there, contemplating the men and their reactions. He fingered one of the packets, toying with taking it out and making quick work of the men. A simple sleep dust, he thought, would be more than enough to do the trick. Having the men be caught asleep at their posts would be enough to discredit any tales they might spread. Nodding to himself, as the men exchange looks, he pulled the small leather sachet out of his pocket, unfastening it.
The man in front of him dropped, a puddle of dark blood pooling out of the man's back, staining his shirt and dripping onto the rooftop. What in the world? He only had a moment to think before the three stunned guards drew their blades and moved on him. Wonderful. Just bloody wonderful. He drew his dagger and spun, stepping over the dead man's body and faced the guards.
“Fae. A bloody fae,” one of them, with a nasally voice, spat as he caught sight of Willem's eyes.
“Nah, he's a runt. Mostly human, I'd reckon,” responded the guard with the hooked nose.
“Don't matter. Fae, human, both bleed. He'll pay for what he did to Jakum,” the first said, the second nodding in agreement.
“Sir,” the third, who had remained silent up until now, spoke. His voice had a much more commanding air to it than the others. “Under the Empress's authority, I place you under arrest for trespassing and the murder of Jakum. You will submit, or you will die.”
“I’m quite sorry,” Willem found himself saying, “but I really won’t.”
Feeling the warmth of the pooling blood begin to soak through his cloth shoes, Willem raised his hand in response, slowly, as to not arouse suspicion. Then, he leaped forward and threw the powder from the leather pouch into the faces of the guards, willing the winds to work in his favor. Dancing back and holding his breath, he held his knife out at the ready, watching, waiting.
The first man came forward, falling into a defensive stance as he approached, keeping steady even while treading through his friend's blood. His movements were calculated and precise, keeping to a well-practised form. Willem found himself doubting the man had ever faced an opponent out of the training field. Closing the distance, Willem jumped in, parrying the guard's sword to the side with his dagger and driving his fist into the other man's chin. The guard collapsed into a heap, joining his fallen comrade.
Looking up at the two still standing, the effects of the sleeping powder were starting to take hold, but were yet to take complete control. Likely, their thoughts were beginning to cloud, but their minds were still their own. He sighed as they approached. It would be a shame to kill them, he had hoped the powder would take more immediate effect.
Hooked nose rushed him, Nasal voice going around in an attempt to flank him. He ducked underneath the tall man's slash, driving his pommel into the guard's gut. The man fell back to recover, giving Willem a moment to turn and face Nasal voice.
“I don't want to hurt anyone,” he said one last time. By the light of the world, all he wanted was immortality and a shiny gem for his lady. Was that so hard? A quick glance over his shoulder showed that the authoritative guard was nowhere in sight. He'd have to worry about that one later.
“Shoulda thought of that before you came here and murdered Jakum,” Nasal voice spat, eyeing his dead friend.
“I didn't.” His words fell on deaf ears though, as the man rushed forward. He sidestepped, careful not to slip on the blood that littered the ground. Dancing around the guard's blade, knocking it aside with his, Willem waited. Within moments, the man's efforts grew wearied, until he too slumped to the ground, unconscious.
“You, my dear, were taking way too long.” Willem spun, lowering his blade and looked to where the final guard lay. On his chest sat a fair-skinned woman with ageless features. A devilish grin split her face in two as she rose to her feet, using her sword that was embedded in the man's back as a support.
“You're losing your touch. I'm almost disappointed,” Tiana said in a sultry voice, as she casually pulled her bloodied blade free and walked to the unconscious guards and, in turn, killed them.
“They didn't need to die.” Anger boiled inside of Willem, threatening to consume.
“Oh, hush now. That's no fun at all. They're humans. Mortals. That's what they do. Die.” She eyed him, before closing the distance and placing a hand on his cheek. His hands twitched to grab her and push her away, but he forced himself to stillness. “Willem, a life is a life. You will learn, their lives end in a blink of an eye, to cut it short by a breath is hardly a tragedy. They rest now in the mother's embrace, think upon it no more.” She smiled, though, her eyes looked sad. Was she seeing that same mortality in him? Thinking that he, too, shared this fatal flaw? By the seven sisters, he would have his promised immortality.
“Now, come my dear. We have a moon to catch.” She walked toward the door of the closest tower, stopping only once to turn and wink at him, before shadows enveloped her leather-clad form.
With a prayer for the dead men, and a promise to never become as c
old as she towards life, he raced after her, letting the shadows welcome him into their embrace.
#
The palace was empty. Or so it seemed. It was hard to reconcile this with the court of an empress after Willem’s years surrounded by the fae. Where they were always engaged in feasts and festivities, here, no music was to be heard, no cajoling or merrymaking carried through the halls to greet them as they entered into a side passageway. Occasionally, a soft echo of conversation would be heard as they passed doorways. Not even guards were posted in those corridors.
As they made their way to the main halls, where brighter lights and sound began to reach them, Willem pulled Tiana to the side.
“If we're going to do this, we're going to do this my way. If you want to argue, leave. No blood spilt, no lives ended. Nothing. We get the Moon pearl, or any other valuables, and leave.” The bodies of the innocent men above haunted him. He could imagine the halls of this palace running red with blood. Tiana's eyes, large and violet, studied him. Her lips pursed.
“They must pay a price for their thievery. It cannot go unpunished.”
“No killing,” he said firmly, pushing it as far as he dared to. “We're here for the Moon, not to start a war.” She looked at him, an unreadable expression crossing her face, and in that moment his blood ran cold. Finally, she shook her head, pushing his hand off her. “Think what you want, just get me that moon. I will check her private chambers, and return here. She will either be there, or in the throne room below. If you find her… Do what you want, just do not fail me. The Moon will be mine.” Her slender form flitted away, soundless, and seemed to fade into invisibility as she sank into the shadows, but for her drawn blades as they glinted in the light of the crystal torches.
Taking one last look down the wood paneled hallway, with the rich auburn walls, Willem went with an entirely different form of invisibility. Removing his Night Cloak, he stepped into the middle of the long hallway and began to make his way to the throne room.