Just A Little Wicked: A Limited Edition Collection of Magical Paranormal and Urban Fantasy Tales

by Lily Luchesi

  “By when will we arrive at the Red Keep?” I asked Hugo when he sat down next to me. The Red Keep was technically still in our province, the Lowlands, but it was far enough that I wasn’t sure if we would make it there today, or if we would have to spend the night in a tavern.

  “We should be there by nightfall,” Hugo said. “I always make the trip in one day, then I spend the night in the Red Keep—they have a quarter for guests. It’s much cheaper than having to book a night in a pub, and much safer too. By dawn, I will be heading back to Bellhaven. So, if you happen to change your mind…” He looked at me curiously, not finishing his sentence. Then, he shrugged, grabbed a sandwich from one of his bags and started eating.

  While I took my own lunch from my bag, I realized he was giving me a way out. If I arrived and didn’t like the Red Keep, he was willing to take me back home.

  I tended to avoid non-magic wielders, simply because I was never sure what they thought about me or my brethren. Some of them had to hate us, otherwise why would they allow us to be branded and even executed, like Aife was? On the other hand, perhaps they weren’t all bad. Perhaps they were just as scared of those Red Priests as we were.

  I had never been this far out of town. Even if this adventure could cost me my life, at least it had brought me further out of Bellhaven than ever before.

  “Do you remember the Great Famine?” I asked Hugo while I took a bite from my sandwich.

  “Of course I do, girlie,” the old man said. “It’s a terrible topic to talk about, though.”

  I knew, but I didn’t want to let it go. If I was doing this, if I was heading into the lion’s den, then I needed to know the full story; I needed to know what I was fighting for, and if this Great Famine ended when magic was banned or not. Because if the story was true, then I knew that no matter what I did, I couldn’t allow the Brotherhood of Whispers to reinstall the magic that wiped out half of the population of the Seven Kingdoms, no matter how terrible the brands were that those Red Priests marked us with.

  “Was it really that bad?” I asked. “As bad as the stories say? No harvest for years?”

  “Nothing grew.” Hugo’s smile had faltered, and he looked grim.

  I felt bad for pushing him to remember those gruesome times.

  “Not even flowers, trees. Livestock died. The soil was as dry as those desert lands in the south. The first year, we made do, we were hungry, people complained a lot, but we thought it was just a bad year. It happens. That’s why the farmers keep some reserves, and the lords and ladies in their high castles also sent out parts of their reserves to us poor folk, so we made do.” The merchant shook his head, tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. “The next year, it was worse. Our reserves lessened, and everything refused to grow. The lords still sent over food, but they grew wary, worried that their own reserves would be empty too if the harvest failed for a third year in a row. The High King issued a decree forcing all his lords to donate part of their supplies to us. It was bad that year, but it got even worse the next year. Decree from the High King or not, the castles were running dry too, and they refused to donate what little they had to us poor folk.” The merchant shrugged. “Not that I blame them. I mean, when times grow desperate, everyone looks for their own first.”

  I gulped, barely able to swallow the rest of the sandwich. “And then?”

  “Then, people started dying,” Hugo stated simply. A deep hurt was etched into his voice, and I knew he too had suffered a terrible loss. “From starvation. A horrible death, if you ask me. The flesh practically falls off your bones. I saw skeletons in nearly every street I passed. Then, by the time we entered the fifth year of the Great Famine, things got even more horrible.” He shook his head. “I won’t talk about it.”

  “Is it true that once the High King banned magic, the soil restored itself, and the next year’s harvest could feed the Seven Kingdoms twice over?” That was what I had heard from the elders in our town, but I wanted to check if this was in line with Hugo’s experience.

  The merchant lifted his head at me and slowly nodded. “Yes. I don’t know if it’s coincidence or not, girlie, but that’s what happened. The Red Priests spread the news that all magic was banned, and at first, we thought it would be just another way to keep our hopes up, but then the crops started to grow, the fields were littered with flowers… Everything that had refused to grow for five years, was suddenly blooming. As if life had been restored to it.”

  I nodded, my fears having been confirmed. Although Reyna had assured me she agreed with the High King that magic should not be used uncontrolled, and that it was possible magic had exhausted the earth to the point nothing would grow, I didn’t trust the woman as far as I could throw her. If magic had caused the Great Famine, I couldn’t let the Brotherhood of Whispers restore magic, no matter what.

  “It’s bad luck to think about those things,” Hugo said. “I always felt as… As if we had been cursed, all of us. And just remembering those times, makes me shudder. I know a curse of that size and impact is impossible, but that’s what it felt like.”

  I frowned, but before I could say anything else, Hugo jumped off the back of the cart. “We should get going.” His cheerful mood of this morning had been replaced by a grimace, and I felt sorry for causing it.

  Wordlessly, I put the rest of my sandwich away, got up and walked to the front of the cart. I crawled back against the wooden crate I had leaned against this morning and let the rhythm of the cart swinging left to right as we traveled further, lull me to sleep.

  My sleep was filled with nightmares of fields of crops burning to the ground, and children crying from hunger.

  Chapter Five

  “We’re nearly there,” Hugo said.

  About two hours after we had left Ginderstund, I had woken from my nap, and the merchant’s good mood had returned. He had whistled a few tunes, and even told me a few jokes, none of them very good, but I was glad he had cheered up.

  The sun had long passed its zenith and was already starting its descent. Hugo pointed at a building in the far distance, barely more than a small dot at the edge of the horizon. “That’s the Red Keep.”

  I squinted to get a better look at the building, but so far, all I could make out was its color. “It’s not red.”

  Hugo chuckled. “No, it’s not. Would be quite extravagant, wouldn’t it?”

  As we zigzagged through the serpentine path leading to the Red Keep located on top of a hill and surrounded by a valley crossed by a river, I couldn’t keep my eyes from the building. The lair of the beast. The place where I would probably meet my demise. It didn’t make me as nervous as I thought it would. In the end, the choice had been simple: risk my own life, or risk Sebastian’s life, and then it wasn’t even a real choice anymore.

  What surprised me the most about the building was how normal it looked. I wasn’t sure what I had expected; in my nightmares, the Red Keep featured burgundy-red stones; the dwelling was surrounded by the chopped-off heads of dead mages placed on spikes, and the river’s waters were red from blood.

  In reality, the building was made from brown stone, the river was a typical bright blue, and no dead-mage decoration marked the path up to the structure.

  In fact, there were barely any guards, besides the two Red Priests standing near the two-story high entrance gate.

  “There’s not more security than that?” I could hear the disbelief in my voice.

  Hugo shrugged. “They’re priests. Why would they need security? Besides, no one is stupid enough to cross the Red God.”

  I licked my lips. I hadn’t even considered that. Crossing the Red Priests was one thing, but crossing a God? The Red God was the one who had explained to his disciples how the Great Famine could be solved; it was he who had taught the Red Priests how to mark all mages with runes as old as life itself, so that our magic would be locked up deep inside of us.

  I had heard stories before about the terrible Goddess of Death, how she could tighten her disciples
’ airways just by clenching her hand, sending them directly to the Realm of Death. The Red God’s powers were cloaked in mystery, but like all Gods, he was probably capable of horrible things.

  I had to resist the urge to throw up.

  Either way, it was too late to turn back now. If I did, I would leave Sebastian to the Red God’s wrath, and that was no option.

  I clenched the sides of the cart as Hugo led us to the passage directly to the Red Keep.

  The closer we got to the guards, the better I could make out their faces. The one on the left looked as if someone had stolen his preferred food right from under his nose, and the other one yawned, his eyes nearly falling shut.

  “Good afternoon, fellas,” Hugo said. “I’ve brought the monthly supplies.” He gestured at the crates and boxes loaded in the back of the cart, and then pointed at me. “And a new recruit.”

  The guard on the left moved toward us. He shot a quick look at the supplies, but then focused all his attention on me. He lifted his chin, looking as haughty as an emperor. “Who are you, girl?”

  “Saleyna.” I figured there was no use in lying about my name, and the less I had to lie about, the better.

  The man’s gaze lingered on my forehead and my mark. “You’re a mage.” The Red Priest said it matter-of-factly, but a glimpse of disgust flashed across his features while he spoke.

  “Used to be a mage.” I couldn’t keep the venom out of my voice.

  “Hm.” The Red Priest gestured for me to get out of the cart.

  “I’m sure she’s hardly the first mage signing up as an acolyte,” Hugo said, trying to defend me. “I saw a Red Priest who bore the same mark before. There’s no law against mages becoming Red Priests, or is there?”

  I wanted to hug the old man, but I had to temper my enthusiasm, as I was being scrutinized from head to toe by the Red Priest. Simply because I didn’t know where to look, I decided to examine him in turn. He had short, black hair peeking out from under the hood. His eyes were green, the color of lush fields and forests. He had a five o’clock shadow and a strong jaw—under regular circumstances, he might be considered handsome, but now he looked as grim as the Grim Reaper himself.

  “Why do you want to join our ranks?” he asked, still glaring at me suspiciously.

  My answer to Hugo this morning hadn’t been the right one. I had realized that the moment I spoke the words out loud. I had spent hours on the cart thinking about an answer that would be better, so I didn’t hesitate when he asked. “That’s between me and the Red God.”

  I wasn’t sure if this would be the right answer—if there even was a right answer—but the man grunted and shrugged. He motioned at the other guard to open the gate. “Hugo, I assume you will stay in our guest quarters tonight?”

  “If I may, Cullyn,” Hugo said.

  “Certainly.” The Red Priest nodded at the merchant, then turned back toward me. “Come,” he snapped, his entire demeanor changing.

  Reluctantly, I traced after the Red Priest, who was apparently called Cullyn. The gate opened and Hugo’s cart rode inside, hobbling over the cobblestones decorating the courtyard of the Red Keep.

  My breath got stuck in my throat, and my hands instantly grew sweaty. The Red Priests would be on to me in seconds. Cullyn was already suspicious. Everyone would be suspicious as soon as they saw the mark on my forehead.

  Stupid, stupid Sebastian for getting me into this.

  I glanced around, taking in my surroundings. The Keep had a traditional build; four buildings surrounded the courtyard, one of them the gatehouse. At least a dozen tall, gothic windows stared at me from the dwellings, and I wondered what secrets were hidden behind those windows. Several doors on the downstairs level had wooden signs next to them, indicating where they led. The utter-left door had a sign saying ‘guest quarters’, so I assumed that was where Hugo would spend the night.

  The merchant was busy unloading the cart, but he stopped occasionally to smile at me.

  My stomach ached at the thought that soon I would have to complete the rest of my mission without him.

  “Hurry up,” Cullyn snapped at me. “Don’t stand there like a fool.”

  I held my head down and balled my fists. I had never met anyone who was so downright rude in my entire life, especially when given no reason to be rude. With Cullyn, it seemed as if he had decided he wanted to hate me from the moment he first laid eyes upon me.

  Reluctantly, I followed the Red Priest, waving at Hugo. The merchant looked up at me, a melancholic smile crossing his features. I could practically hear his thoughts. My offer still stands, girlie.

  I wanted nothing more than to take the merchant up on his offer and have him take me back home tomorrow morning. But that would only result in Sebastian joining the Red Priests’ ranks instead of me, and I couldn’t let him do that, so I dragged my feet while following Cullyn, my heart hammering in my chest.

  We crossed the square and entered through one of the doors. The first room we entered was a large entrance hall, dominated by gargantuan wooden stairs, covered in red carpet, leading to the second floor. Cullyn led me to the right, into a scarcely illuminated hallway with at least a dozen doors lined up on each side. I gaped at everything—at the torches lighting up the walls, at the crisscross pattern of stone on the floor, at the rounded ceiling—and barely kept up with Cullyn. The Red Priest sighed out loud, obviously annoyed by my stalling.

  As we rounded the corner into an almost identical hallway, I asked him, “Where are we going?”

  “To see the High Priestess, of course.” He rolled his eyes. “She decides who we accept as an acolyte and who we turn down.”

  “I didn’t know you turned people down…”

  Cullyn stopped so abruptly I nearly bumped into him. He turned around, his eyes as dark as the sky on a starless night. “When we get to the High Priestess’ chambers, I recommend you keep your mouth shut, and only open it when the High Priestess wants to ask you a question.”

  My heart slammed against my ribcage. If Cullyn was this bad, then what would the High Priestess be like?

  I nodded, showing him I understood.

  Cullyn continued, and I trailed behind him, my blood rate increasing with every step I took. The last time I had been this terrified was ten years ago, when that Red Priestess branded my forehead with the mark that locked up my magic.

  After walking for about fifteen minutes down the labyrinthine halls of the Red Keep, we eventually made it to a hallway with a larger door at the end.

  Cullyn headed straight for the door.

  My ears rang, and I had trouble breathing. These Red Priests filled me with fear on a good day, and now I was surrounded by the lot of them. For the thousandth time today, I wished I had never met Reyna or the Brotherhood of Whispers, and that I was safe at home with my brother.

  Cullyn knocked on the door, waited for the High Priestess to respond, and then opened the door, gesturing for me to walk in.

  The first thing I noticed was the size of the office. It was larger than I had expected. The center of the room was dominated by an oversized oak desk and bookcases leaned against the walls, filled to the brim with leather-bound tomes. Two tall, arched windows allowed light to stream into the room.

  Behind the desk sat a woman wearing a red robe covered in runes similar to the one disfiguring my forehead that had been weaved into the fabric.

  I couldn’t say for sure, but I had the sickening feeling this was the same woman who had slit Aife’s throat in the market square of Bellhaven, just a little over two weeks ago.

  The woman looked up from a staple of papers she was reading. Blood-red eyes gazed into mine, and I stumbled back, startled.

  Besides her creepy eyes, the woman was beautiful. She had a small, elegant face, full lips, and porcelain skin. I estimated her about forty years old, but with the strange eye color, it was hard to tell—I could usually estimate someone’s age by looking at their eyes.

  “Who is this?” the High Priestess as
ked, obviously talking about me, but addressing Cullyn.

  “A new acolyte,” Cullyn replied, not bothering to hide his disdain.

  “Hm.” The woman pursed her lips. She motioned for me to come closer. I counted at least three rings, two of those in gold, the other a bright red ruby, on her fingers.

  The woman analyzed me from head to toe, her gaze lingering on the rune on my forehead. “I’m Altheia, the High Priestess,” she introduced herself. “Who are you?”

  “Saleyna Loxley,” I replied.

  “Where do you live?” The High Priestess crossed her hands, glancing at me curiously.

  “Bellhaven.” I figured telling the truth was the safest option for now.

  “Bellhaven.” Altheia let the name roll off her tongue. “I was there, not too long ago, for a magic-wielder hiding her powers.”

  I cleared my throat. “I know. I saw.” It was hard to keep a straight face while my heart was trying to jump out of my chest.

  “And what did you think?” Altheia asked. Her face betrayed no emotion except mild curiosity.

  What kind of question was that—and more importantly, what kind of answer could I possibly give?

  “I…” I struggled to find the right words.

  “Be honest,” the High Priestess warned.

  “I’m not fond of executions, nor being forced to watch them,” I said eventually, because it was true, and because I had a feeling that if I lied, this woman would pick up on it right away.

  “Hm.” Altheia leaned back in her seat. “No one is, unless you have an evil streak. I dislike executions, too.”

  She certainly hadn’t looked that way when she had paraded on the stage in Bellhaven, or when she had cut Aife’s throat, without a moment’s hesitation.

  “But they’re a necessary evil, I’m afraid.” Altheia shoved her seat back and got up. She walked toward me, her long robes gliding behind her. “What is your stance on magic, child?”