by C. A. McHugh
“Wrong answer.”
A split second later, the vanquishing spell that flew from her fingers reduced the imp to nothing more than a pile of ashes.
Seroney chewed her lip. That was almost too easy. And even though imps were commonplace enough, what was its interest in the alchemist’s shop?
She sniffed the air, picking up on the king’s scent once again before the hair on the back of her neck rose. Brimstone wafted on the breeze once again, but the gut-dropping stench of death almost overpowered it. Every nerve in her body screamed danger, and she took a step back.
The breeze picked up, swirling her skirts around her legs and jabbing her skin with ice and dust. She shivered from the mixture of cold and fear.
“Don’t interfere, or you’ll pay the price,” an invisible voice whispered from behind.
Her resolve became as stiff as her spine. She was a Meritis, a force to be reckoned with in her own right, and she wouldn’t tremble before someone who refused to face her head on. She whirled around. “Show yourself.”
“Are you so certain you want that?” the voice replied.
She tuned in on it. It was male, but so raspy that she couldn’t determine the actual age of the speaker. And whoever he was, he was retreating from her.
She gathered her magic and prepared to cast quickly. “Coward,” she taunted.
She caught a flicker of movement in the shadows and rushed toward it, her fingers glowing with a series of spells that would show the demon he’d messed with the wrong person. The incantation sat poised on the tip of her tongue. She drew in a deep breath, magic pulsating through every inch of her being, waiting for that moment to be released.
Until a flock of raven poured out of the shadows like a river breaking through a damn.
The world turned into a storm of squawks and black feathers, of flapping wings and grasping claws. Seroney threw her arms up to shield her face, her spell abandoned. The ravens circled around her like a cyclone, mocking her with their caws, coming closer and closer until she feared they would tear at her flesh. Her heart pounded with terror, but not from the birds themselves.
She dreaded the force behind them.
The very essence of her soul froze as her feet rose from the ground. The ravens still completely enveloped her in their dizzying twister, but it was the aura of death that practically smothered her. She’d heard enough tales to know the source.
He was here.
Something grabbed the back of her dress and yanked her backward through the air. The storm of ravens kept her as disoriented as the panic that dried up all her magic. She had no idea where he was taking her or if she’d even live to tell about it. Her vision blurred, and the light became dark. The ravens glowed silvery white in the blackness the surrounded her, and her gut threatened to lose its contents.
She’d entered the Shadow Realm.
“Don’t trifle with me,” the voice whispered from behind her. “Consider this your warning.”
The hand released her, and she tumbled out of the Shadow Realm to hit the ground with bone-jarring force. The icy air of death vanished, taking the stench of brimstone with it. The low caws that had teased and tormented her seconds before vanished. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. Her head throbbed from the impact, but she found one small blessing in her current state.
He’d let her live.
But as soon as that joy waned, anger filled the void it left behind.
She spat out the blood and wiped her mouth. He’d messed with the wrong person, and she wouldn’t quit until she’d shown him the error of his ways. She was a Meritis, after all.
Seroney managed to rise to the feet, using a nearby wall for leverage, and tried to regain her bearings. She’d lost Aerrin, and finding him became her top priority. Calling upon her magic required twice the effort. She honed in on the sounds of the market and stumbled in that direction. Once she found her way there, she could hopefully pick up Aerrin’s trail again.
Before it was too late.
***
“Where are we going?” Aerrin asked in that impatient manner only nobles could pull off. The one that said I’m a very important person, and I don’t like to be kept waiting.
Which was why Raimel chose to piss him off. “You’ll see when we get there.”
“The letter said he wanted to meet with me.”
“I know. Who do you think sent the letter? The Lone Wolf has the gift, but he sucks at it.” He jerked his thumb back to Leandros, who was trailing behind them. “Sort of like your buddy there.”
He could’ve sworn the king growled in frustration. “Where is he?”
“On the outskirts of town. He didn’t feel like showing his pretty face around these parts, if you know what I mean.”
Aerrin nodded, finally seeming to grasp why Ceryst hadn’t met him in the crowded village. Even after all these years, there was still a chance someone might recognize him and hold him accountable for the crime he didn’t commit.
Raimel led them over the bridge that crossed the Gentil River, then climbed down the banks to the narrow strip of mud and sand that ran between the water and the bluff. He thought the boys could handle it, but judging by the way Leandros slipped and slid into the river with a loud splash, he’d assumed too much.
“Way to be light on your feet,” Raimel muttered as he pulled the boy out the water. “And you consider yourself a swordsman.”
“Screw you,” he shot back through chattering teeth.
“Keep that attitude up, and I’ll let you freeze to death instead of drying your clothes.”
Leandros tightened his jaw and lifted his chin ever so slightly before giving a quick nod.
Raimel cast a drying spell with a wave of his hand and started down the river path to the cave where Ceryst was waiting. If he didn’t get the king there soon, he’d hear about it from the knight.
Aerrin caught up with him. “I don’t know much about you.”
“That’s means you’re either gullible or a fool because you’ve placed your trust in a perfect stranger.” The sun had already passed its zenith, and he quickened his pace. He wanted to get the boys back to the village well before sunset, especially after seeing far more ravens than he expected in these parts.
It wasn’t like the Raven Bringer not to announce his presence, even in broad daylight. Maybe there was a slim chance the ravens were nothing more than circumstance, but his gut told him that something more than random chance was at play.
Aerrin matched his increased stride, even though he was a head shorter than him. “Master Binnius trusts you.”
“So you’ll trust me because he does, but you don’t trust that girl who knew about the antidote, even though he does. There’s some interesting logic for you. I can’t wait to see you use it when you take full command of the kingdom, Your Majesty.”
Aerrin grabbed his arm with enough force to whip him around. The king’s expression was hard, stern, and bordering on pissed off. “I trust you because you saved my life.”
“Good reason.” He shook his arm free. “It’s the same reason the Lone Wolf trusts me.”
“But you are rude, insolent—”
“Don’t forget a scoundrel, a ne’er-do-well, a loafer, and a no-good street rat.” Raimel gave him a smile that matched the sarcasm in his voice. “Did I forget anything?”
“No, that was a thorough summation.”
“But I left off a few things.” He closed the space between them. “I know you think I’m an asshole and probably not worth the air you breathe, much less your time, but one day you’ll wise up and realize that you need people like me on your side. Now shut up and get moving if you want to make it back in time for dinner, Your Majesty.”
Leandros rushed to his friend’s defense. “You need to remember that you’re talking to the king.”
“And he was the one who chose to meet with the Lone Wolf. I’m simply the escort service, and if he doesn’t like me, then he can try to find him on his own. There a
re at least a dozen other things I’d rather be doing anyway.”
And maybe with a little luck, he could sneak back into town for a few hours of entertainment once he was finished with them. At least he managed to snag the two vials of liquid fire, so the day wasn’t a complete waste.
He continued toward the cave, not bothering to look back. The scraping of their well-made boots on the gravel told him they were following. Half an hour later, he spied the small cave the river had carved out of the soft stone bluffs decades ago and breathed a sigh of relief.
Job completed.
The next one would be convincing Ceryst to drink the sangous potions.
“Honey, I’m home,” he called as he stepped inside.
A fist flying past his face greeted him.
“You missed,” Raimel said, his words as dry as his parched throat.
“On purpose.” Ceryst gave him one of those looks that told Raimel he was inches away from pushing past the limits of the knight’s patience.
“Note to self—stay away from your fists.” He found the water skin and took a long drink. “Found these two lurking about town.”
Aerrin came inside, but his friend lingered at the opening, pointing at Ceryst. His mouth moved, but no words came out.
Ceryst gave a half laugh. “Good to know my legend is still alive.”
Raimel almost choked at the knight’s sarcasm. “Aw, Ceryst, I’m beginning to think I’m rubbing off on you.”
“Maybe just a bit.” He focused his attention on Aerrin. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I apologize for the humble setting—”
“It’s fine, Ceryst.” Aerrin gave him a sympathetic smile. “I understand why you’d prefer this over the town.”
“I don’t.” Raimel rummaged through the supplies and found the knight had already eaten the bread and cheese he’d gotten this morning, leaving only that damned waybread behind. He chucked one the pieces at Ceryst, hitting him squarely between the shoulders. “I’d much rather have a soft, dry bed and a hot meal in my belly. And if you want to throw in the services of a skilled madam, I’d be in heaven.”
“Shut up, Raimel.”
“I’m being serious here. When was the last time you got laid? Because if anyone could use the services of a skilled madam, it’s you.”
Now it was Leandros’s turn to snicker, and he finally joined his friend inside. But Raimel noted that the blond boy’s hand never left the hilt of his sword.
“We stumbled upon an interesting bit of information while we were in Dromore,” Ceryst said, ignoring Raimel’s claims that he’d benefit from a quick rumple under the covers with a lady.
“Now, be honest.” Raimel threw another hard wedge of waybread at Ceryst, this time hitting him in the head. “I was the one who stumbled upon it through my sources.”
Which of course, meant he owed the King of Thieves another tribute. Not something he was willing to share with the knight—or Aerrin, for that matter. Neither one of them would understand why he was indebted to a criminal, nor would they condone what it entailed.
But, if then ends justified the means, that was all that mattered to him. He could stomach the dirty work.
Unlike their noble souls.
Ceryst whirled around, his hands clenched as tight as his jaw. “If you know so much, why don’t you tell him?”
“Because you’re the one who wanted to meet with him in person to deliver the news when I was more than happy to send him a letter. Besides, you haven’t taken your sangous potion like a good little knight.” He held up one the bottles and shook it between his fingers.
“I hate that stuff.”
And just like Raimel had hoped, the king intervened. “But you need it. You’re still recovering from your injuries. You look too pale.”
“It’s just the light.”
“Maybe, but I saw how much blood you lost.” He flicked his gaze over the bottle. “Please, Ceryst, just take one dose. I need you at full strength.”
The knight grumbled something under his breath as he turned around and snatched the bottle from Raimel. A cough and a pained wince later, and the contents had been drained. Some of the sickly hue lifted from Ceryst’s face.
He threw the bottle at Raimel’s feet, shattering the glass. “Happy now?”
“Nope. I have five more doses for you.”
“Sadistic prick.”
“I love you, too.” He finally found an apple and bit into the crisp flesh. “So, through my sources, I heard that someone here in Gentilmead was looking for a shriveled hand and a devil’s serpent.”
“Why would anyone want those nasty things?” Leandros asked, once again confirming he was more brawn than brains.
But thankfully, Aerrin seemed to grasp their uses. Unfortunately, he looked as pale as Ceryst. “They’re used in summoning demons. Any idea who?”
Raimel shook his head and waited until he swallowed another bite of apple to elaborate. “You have to understand, Your Majesty, that the people who are usually looking for such things don’t want their names associated with them. But just the fact that someone was looking this close to the Academy should raise your guard a bit.”
Aerrin narrowed his eyes. “You’re holding out on us.”
Shit! The boy already knew how to pick up on stall tactics. “Only because my sources didn’t agree on a particular detail. One said it was a woman asking for the ingredients, another said a student at the Academy. Of course, as soon as I heard the Academy mentioned, I alerted Master Binnius like a good little spy.” Raimel tossed the core behind him and moved around Leandros to massage his shoulders.
The boy shrugged him off.
“Relax.” Raimel snuck his hands in the boy’s pockets only to find less money than he’d hoped for. Not worth stealing. “We’re not the bad guys here.”
“I’m not so sure of that.” Suspicion continued to darken the boy’s eyes as though he knew exactly what Raimel had done.
“Raimel’s right,” Aerrin said. “They’re the ones who saved me from the assassin. And Ceryst is not the Raven Bringer, nor did he kill my parents.”
Leandros flicked his gaze to them. “And you believe that?”
“No,” Aerrin replied, shaking his head. “I know it.”
Funny how the king would put such faith in Ceryst, but still gave Raimel the third degree. But then, he was a backstabbing thief.
Raimel circled the two younger men until he was standing next to Ceryst. “I’ll keep pushing for more details, but I think it’s safe to say that if someone around here is trying to find demon summoning components, then the Raven Bringer wasn’t bullshitting when he said his apprentices were closer to you than we thought.”
“Keep your guard up, and watch your back,” Ceryst added in an almost paternal fashion. “If you see so much as a hint of something funny, let Master Binnius know.”
“And if you smell brimstone, run in the opposite direction, not towards it like this idiot has a habit of doing.” Raimel nudged Ceryst with his elbow, earning a rougher elbow in return. Then he leaned forward, hand to his cheek, and loudly whispered, “And tell him to take the rest of his sangous potion.”
The cracking of knuckles beside him let him know the knight didn’t like being tattled on, but the king agreed. “Raimel has a point. You do need to make sure you’re in tip-top shape in case you find him before me.”
Somehow, he doubted the person Aerrin was referring to was the local demon summoner. The king had let slip he was looking for the Raven Bringer. Fortunately, Ceryst hadn’t noticed or there would be hell to pay.
“I’ll make sure little Ceryst takes his medicine like a good boy.” Raimel dodged out the reach of the hand the knight swung at him. “And if this conversation is finished, I’ll escort the high and mighty back to town.”
He ignored the insulted looks on the boys’ faces as he pushed past them and left the cave. If Ceryst said anything more to them, he didn’t hear. He only had one mission for the evening, and it involved s
pending some of the king’s money on a few little luxuries he’d been deprived of over the years.
***
The sun was setting in the sky before Seroney found the boys and Nyssa in the market. Despite the bruises her body had accumulated during her encounter with the Raven Bringer, after a cleansing spell, she’d managed to appear remarkably unscathed, which was a small blessing in itself. It made it easier to lie to them and say she’d wandered into several dressmaker’s shops.
A quick perusal revealed mud on the boys’ boots and along the hems of their cloaks. Wherever they’d gone, it wasn’t in town.
Still, she offered a quick prayer of thanks to the goddess that the Raven Bringer hadn’t gotten to them before she did.
“It took you long enough,” Leandros said with a dramatic eye roll.
“As if you have any room to talk, Mr. Always-Late-For-Lesssons.” Nyssa then leaned closer to Aerrin and began speaking with him in hushed tones as they joined the other students on the road back to the Academy.
Seroney strained to hear, but the only words she could discern were “lone wolf.”
Leandros nudged her, distracting her from the conversation. “So, did you buy anything?”
“I didn’t see anything I needed.” Of course, if she hadn’t run into the Raven Bringer trying to track down the one person who’d obviously been trying to give her the slip, she might’ve been a little less disappointed in the day. And a lot less sore.
Seroney paused a moment, preparing to gage his reaction as she sought out the source of the mud on the boys’ clothes. “Did you see any swords you liked?”
“Um, yeah, sure. The, um, master weaponsmith always has some very fine, um, weapons.” Leandros played with the ties on his cloak. “There was this, ah, rapier, yeah, with this brilliant design on the blade, and, um—”
Aerrin must’ve sensed his friend’s distress because he cut him off. “To be completely honest, there was such a crowd gathered around the master weaponsmith’s tent that it was difficult to get up close and really study his work.”
Leandros nodded frantically as though to confirm the story.