The Deer King: Novella One
Page 8
The sheriff stepped back, and Edgar stepped forward. The innkeeper’s eyes were wet with tears, and his face was red with emotion. He looked like someone was strangling his happiness. It took a great effort for him to speak.
“Like the sheriff said, this savage took my Anne from me last night. Not only that, he killed the priest…”
“I did not kill the priest,” Prala interrupted.
Gasps populated the crowd, followed by a low murmuring. The crowd was shocked to hear Prala speak: his bruises made him appear inhuman, which Emmaline thought doubled the effect of his voice. Reed Hall, piqued by the disruption, lashed out.
“The savage is a liar!” he shouted to the assembled. With his fervor and his moustache, he looked both righteous and demonic. “Yes, the priest died after we apprehended the heathen, but, make no mistake, it was the Massaporan’s evil that did it! I heard him snap the innkeeper’s wife’s neck with my own two ears. Then, when we went to check on the priest once we had captured the savage, the priest was on death’s doorstep. And this only moments after the Massaporan had left the priest’s room. Now every good soul of Harrish descent knows the black magic these heathens are capable of. So don’t be fooled by this trickster’s words. He killed the priest. Have no doubts about it!”
A chorus of “huzzahs!” resounded. There were plenty in the crowd who had seen the priest’s sickly pallor yesterday, but Reed’s detailing of the case was enough to sway the already-biased citizenry. Doc Pritchard and Edgar, who knew otherwise, said nothing. For his part, Prala made no further objections: Emmaline wondered if Reed had conveyed the gist of what he wanted heard.
Edgar continued. “Thank you, sir,” he said, nodding at Reed. “I will have justice for my wife’s death shortly. But the people of Mossbane should know that this savage was not working alone last night. A different Massaporan—a woman, we think—stole out of the inn while we were subduing my wife’s murderer. We saw her run off, but she had too much of a head start to catch her. When we searched the priest after he died, we were unable to find the Saving Stone. We believe the Massaporan woman took it north.”
Another round of murmurings. Emmaline heard snippets of the chatter. ‘They will die for it, they will. The lot of them. That’s the Accord broken. We won’t be safe now until all of Wolfresh is razed.’ She swiveled her head and saw death on every tongue. They mistook me for a Massaporan, she thought. Now they have an excuse to invade. Her heart began to beat the way it had in Wolfresh when she thought she was going to die. She reached down and brushed her hand against the Saving Stone, hidden in a pocket beneath her petticoat. In a moment’s madness she considered pulling the stone from the pocket and showing it to the townspeople. She would explain that the Accord was not broken, that the hounds of death need not be unleashed. But the moment passed and the vengeful barking carried on.
The sheriff stepped forward again. He was chip-toothed and mousy-haired, which made him hard to take seriously, but he also knew how to muster a fire in his voice. He did so now. “I asked Edgar to speak so that you’d hear it straight from the source. Early this morning, I sent word to both the Havenese Legislature and the capital of Olgard to let them know that the priest was dead and the Saving Stone was missing. They’ll likely send out an investigative commission. And maybe, if they’re not too distracted by the mess going on in Brine, an army. Regardless, a change is coming on the winds. Between now and then we had best get prepared. I was a boy the last time the heathens came south. Those of us who were alive will never forget the hell they brought with them. This time we’ll greet them with fire and blood.”
The people responded with hard, mirthless cheers. The current of their fervor carried Prala up a horse-drawn cart, the sheriff leading from behind. Together, the two men rode until the cart was beneath the tree. Emmaline watched as the sheriff slipped the noose over Prala’s neck. Prala’s eyes flashed opened and closed. A word materialized on his tongue, the same four syllables over and over. Although she couldn’t hear him, Emmaline knew what he was saying. She unconsciously mouthed the word back at him.
Dachahelu.
The sheriff jumped off the cart. An expectant silence fell over the crowd. Prala’s mumblings suddenly became audible, a secret on the wind. The man leading the horse started to urge the colt forward, but then a question rang out from the crowd.
“What are you saying, savage? Let us hear your last words!”
Prala stopped speaking. His eyes opened. His gaze wandered over the crowd, empty and serene, lighting upon one group of people and then another like a fickle bird deciding upon a branch. Then, to Emmaline’s shock, his gaze fell upon her. She was standing near thirty yards away in a congested throng, so it was impossible for the others to know who he was looking at, but she had no doubt where his stare was directed. He gave her a small smile. A smile like a thick pane of glass; like a dull knife; like a cold and unknowable stone. He held her with it until her heart turned cold. Then his gaze drifted off into the heavens.
“The Dachahelu will kill you all,” he said simply to the crowd. When they started to scream at him, he closed his eyes once more, and awaited his fate.
The colt started its death march. The priest’s feet shuffled along the bottom of the cart, heading toward the precipice. Knowing what was coming, Emmaline turned and walked away from the now frothing crowd.
The Saving Stone bounced heavy on her thigh as she went.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
I’m writing to you in January of 2018, a couple of weeks before the first novella in THE DEER KING series is finished. Thank you for taking the time to read the inaugural story. I hope that what you’ve just experienced will inspire you to travel a little longer on this journey with me, and, if the trip continues to hold your interest, perhaps remain my traveling companion until the end of the series.
I’ve had the idea for THE DEER KING series for a couple of years now. Ideas, as they say, are a dime a dozen, but, as time passed, THE DEER KING demanded my attention in a way that few of my other writing projects have, until, like a teacher unable to ignore the earnest student with a raised hand, I called it to the forefront. Why? I’ve long been fascinated with the colonial period, and I thought that creating a fantasy world that explored the dynamics between the indigenous peoples and the settlers offered a bevy of possibilities. Without explaining away the process, I believed that adding a few twists to the conceit might reframe our own perceptions of the Age of Colonialism in a compelling way. Although this particular story was told from Emmaline’s point of view, I plan to paint a broader landscape as time goes on by exploring similar themes from different viewpoints. Emmaline will remain a central figure throughout—don’t worry, there are more tales to come from her POV—but the story of the Massaporan people is vital to the heart of the series, and I want to create characters who will do the Massaporans’ viewpoint justice.
One of the reasons I’m most excited about the series is that I believe that writing the series in novella form will make it remain urgent in a way that trilogies sometimes do not. I’m a slow (though consistent) writer, so writing novellas will allow me to put out work every four to six months. I know many fantasy readers enjoy devouring a trilogy in one extended setting, but, if you’re like me, the idea of checking in with a novella every few months sounds like a fascinating way to grow with a series. There may be a few deviations along the way—I enjoy non-linear timelines, and I make no promises that every story will further the plot of the previous one—but, as is clear from Story One, the series is heading toward a day when the fate of the present Deer King will ultimately be determined.
Once again, thank you for reading the first story. I’m planning on releasing the first two or three novellas together, so hopefully you have the next novella queued up and ready to go. If you’re nervous about missing future releases of THE DEER KING series, please visit my website at benspencerwrites.com and sign up to follow the blog. You’ll then receive an email every time I update my website. I promise
to update my website every time I release a new novella. Also, be sure to check out the website for interesting tidbits about The Deer King series, as well as links to some of my other works, if you’re so inclined.
Until next time…