The Reign of the Departed

by Greg Keyes

  “Then we’d better go, before the most of them show up.”

  “I’m still invited?” Veronica asked.

  “I came back for you didn’t I?” Aster said.

  “You came back, anyway,” Veronica said.

  They rode hard, and without much conversation, although Aster had plenty of questions. They entered a forest of pale, slim trees. Coppery sunlight slanted their shadows long, while small birds flitted in the branches and rustled the slender leaves. When the wind blew, Aster thought she heard faint musical notes.

  By nightfall they reached the rim of the Hollow Sea and wound their way through the night forest. The restless landscape turned once again as hills rose south of them so that soon they had a low range of mountains on one side of them and the emptiness of the sea on the other. It felt precarious and exhilarating at the same time.

  A soft rushing ahead announced the presence of a small waterfall, running down from the hills and filling a small pool. The pool in turn overflowed into the Hollow Sea. It was a pretty spot, green with horsetails and fern. They rode uphill, to where the stream was fordable, and crossed it.

  Veronica hung back, gazing at the water.

  “I think I need a bath,” she said.

  “Now?” Aster said.

  “It’s the first water we’ve seen for a while,” Veronica said.

  Aster paused. Veronica was in bad shape. Being what she was, the water might help her out. And they were all tired; she had fallen asleep in her saddle twice already, once nearly falling out of it.

  “Okay,” she said. “We’ll ride up a bit and give you some privacy. We’ll rest until sunrise.”

  “Thank you, Aster,” Veronica said.

  They set up camp without a fire, and Billy took the first watch.

  Jake slowed his horse; he could still hear them talking, but he couldn’t pick out the horses’ hoof-beats anymore. Likely they had stopped for a rest.

  He dismounted and checked to be sure his rifle was loaded. Jamie had gone back to find the Sheriff, to let him know what had happened, but Jake reckoned to shadow them, so he could give report in case they did anything strange.

  Riding alone had brought other things to mind, though. Like how Aster had humiliated him back at the house, stung him in the eyeballs and all. And just when they had the dead girl and the wood man ready to take apart, she’d shown up again with her Hell-witch ways and brought the sky against him. Then the other girl killed poor Eldridge and Peas.

  So now he thought maybe he might sneak close to the camp and put a bullet through her head while she was asleep. He could run faster than any of her friends. Hell, maybe he could pick them all off, one by one.

  So he eased through the forest, quieter than a spider’s breath, until he came to a little waterfall, and a pool.

  He saw the horses had worked around it uphill, and was starting that way himself, when he noticed something in the water—somebody was in there, sunken down so only their eyes and the top of their head was visible. Those eyes glimmered the green of rusted copper.

  He brought his rifle down to bear, just as she rose up out of the pool.

  At first he just saw the girl-shape, and he felt the lust. Then he saw it was her, the girl they had buried.

  “You just keep quiet,” he murmured.

  “I can be quiet,” she said.

  “Yeah,” he said, trying to get his mind straight. Only he couldn’t.

  “You just come on out,” he said.

  “I’d rather you came in,” she replied.

  “Holy Moses,” he said. “You want it?”

  “I want you. To come here,” she said.

  “Well, that’s okay then,” he said, dropping his rifle and wading out toward her.

  The water was cold, but when she wrapped her arms around him and pressed close he forgot about that, even though she was cold too.

  “You’re the prettiest thing I ever saw,” he said.

  “So pretty you were going to leave me buried forever,” she teased.

  “Well, that was then,” he tried to say. Except he sort of choked on the last couple of words on account of the water in his mouth. But she was still hugging him—harder than ever, in fact. He kissed her and pushed her down, deeper, toward the bottom.

  Billy had just rousted Aster for her watch when Veronica came strolling into camp. Her limp was not only gone, but she had a bounce in her step.

  “You look like you feel better,” Aster said.

  “Well, water works wonders,” Veronica replied, walking her way. “At least it does for me.”

  She was close enough Aster could make out her face in the moonlight. Her eyes gleamed faintly verdigris, and something in her expression made Aster take a step back.

  “If you’re tired,” Veronica said. “I’ll take the watch.”

  The moment passed as quickly as it had come.

  “Sure,” Aster said. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

  “Thanks,” Veronica replied.

  They set back off just after dawn, just rested enough not to tumble from their saddles. An hour into it, the baying began, and it didn’t sound that far away. Aster cursed that they had stopped at all.

  But then she saw the gleam ahead. She took her mount to canter, her heart thumping strangely.

  “It has to be,” she murmured to the breeze.

  And as she came around a copse of trees, there it was.

  Her throat closed and tears welled in her eyes. She wasn’t crazy. There was a ship. Her ship. It hadn’t been a fantasy, her metamorphosis into a raven some sort of hallucination. It was all real, everything she remembered. She had been telling herself that for so many years. Had believed it almost as much as she wanted it.

  And yet madness ran in her family. Her father had said so more than once.

  “Wow,” Errol said.

  “Yeah,” she replied.

  She was a sailing ship, with two great square sails and one triangular lateen. The sails were put away, of course, but the rest of the craft—every bit of it—gleamed in the young sunshine.

  “Funny,” Errol said. “It looks like it’s built of metal.”

  “Silver,” Aster replied. “Billy, how far back are they?”

  “Won’t be long,” he said.

  But she knew that. The hounds sounded close.

  She nudged her mount forward. It was just as she had last seen it; no leaves had settled on the deck, no vines entangled it.

  Well, there was one difference.

  “That’s disturbing,” Errol said.

  The gangplank, still extended, was covered with human bones. It looked like ten or more individuals.

  “No one can board her unless they know her name,” Aster said.

  “Which you do,” Errol said.

  Aster closed her eyes, remembering another place, a quay in a great city, her father whispering a name she could only just make out.

  “You do know it, right?” Errol said.

  “Just give me a minute,” she said.

  “You said you knew it.”

  “I may have been exaggerating a little,” she confessed. “But if you don’t give me some peace, I’ll never remember.”

  She took a step toward the ship, and another. A breeze came, and the faint music of the trees whirled up. The name, the name, she hadn’t really heard it, she had been too far from him, but the shape of his lips, the slight hiss at the start.

  She had one step to go before joining the bones. The hounds were closing fast. It was forward or nothing.

  She set her foot on the gangplank.

  “Streya,” she whispered. “Your name is Streya.”

  She did not die. She took another step, and again she did not die. She walked to the top of the gangplank and stepped down upon the silver deck.

  “It’s okay now,” she said. “You can board.”

  She turned, so they would not see her wipe the cold sweat from her forehead.

  Down along the way they had come,
she saw the Sheriff and his beasts racing through the trees.

  “The horses,” Dusk said.

  “There’s a place for them below,” Aster said. “Quickly.”

  The nearest dog—the black one—came snapping as the last of the horses came on board. Billy shot it and it rolled away and came back up without an obvious wound. Errol jerked up the gangplank as it leapt again and its white brother joined it.

  A bullet struck a silvery note on the ship.

  Aster pointed north. This part she remembered clearly.

  “Airdi,” she said, and with a hiss and flap of wind the sails dropped down.

  Another shot rang out.

  “Vetas,” she commanded, and a wind came up, billowing the sails taut.

  “Plaikdi,” she said.

  The ship lurched forward as if pushed by an invisible force, into the gulf. Her belly went light as they fell, and she heard one of the others yelp. But then the keel slapped hard against something, and spray came over the bow, soaking them all as around them the sea came into being.

  And she laughed.

  Behind, on the shore, a few more shots rang out, but soon enough they were well out of range, and not much later far from the sight of land.

  They found Jake’s horse near a pool that drained into the abyss the Sheriff called the Hollow Sea. They found Jake, too. He didn’t have a mark on him, but the light in him—small as it had been—was gone.

  “Drowned,” Jobe said. “Damn fool.”

  It was just then that David began to tremble. It was curious, at first. He wasn’t cold, or afraid, and when he held his hands up they seemed steady. The shivering was deeper, inside of him.

  “She’s close,” he realized out loud. “Very close.”

  “Yes,” the Sheriff said. “It’s time to run, boys.”

  And so they ran. The boys had changed further over the course of the last day. Their fur had thickened, their faces begun to protrude. They had sharp ears, and their mouths seemed wider.

  And they were fast. In a sprint they could easily outdistance a horse; but they couldn’t keep up such a pace for very long.

  But they didn’t need too. David could feel a slight warmth on his face when he looked in Aster’s direction.

  And as the boys went howling through the woods, David recognized the trembling in him as hope, hope such as he had not felt in a very long time, longer than his body had been alive. And that hope built as the warmth became heat and finally a glorious burning.

  At first he thought she was a star brought to earth, so brightly did she shine in the grey morning. He jumped from his horse and broke into a run. He could see now that although Aster shone the brightest, another star blazed nearby, along with another, fainter light and also a shadow of some sort, a darkness a bright light might cast.

  But this constellation was receding from him.

  “Aster!” he yelled, running all the harder.

  Then something gripped him tight around the knees, and he toppled forward. He screamed, kicking, fighting to get up, but more of the boys piled on him.

  “Let me up!” he screeched.

  “Look,” Jobe said. “Just look, you idiot.”

  His breathing was coming in short chops, and black spots filled most of his vision, but they kept him pinned until he saw the endless drop below.

  “Too late,” Jobe said.

  David pulled his vision back up and saw the ship, sails billowing, scudding away from him on a pool of rippling yellow light.

  “That’s her,” he said.

  “Yeah,” Jobe said. “Too bad.”

  “Let me up,” he commanded.

  “I’d just as soon let you jump in,” Jobe said. “But the Sheriff—”

  “Let me up.”

  They did, and David stood as if rooted, felt the shivering in him all but gone and despair oozing in.

  But he remembered more of himself now. He remembered despair that would make gods weep. He wasn’t sure how, or why, but it was there, along with the determination that allowed him to survive it.

  And the need. He had an empty place in him where that star fit, and he would never be whole until he possessed it.

  He walked over to where the Sheriff sat, watching the boat go.

  “What now?” he asked.

  The Sheriff scratched his chin. “You didn’t know what she was?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “The girl. Aster. Does she have a mark on her forehead? A star? A moon? Anything?”

  “No,” David said.

  “These things can be hidden. Her father. The man who sent you? What was his name?”

  “I never met him before the other day,” David said. “I never had to deal with him. But Aster’s last name is Kostyena.”

  For the first time, David saw two things he had never seen in the Sheriff’s expression before—genuine surprise and fear.

  “Kostyena,” he said, slowly. “Is it possible?” He rubbed his head, and seemed to be in pain.

  “Describe this man.”

  “Ah—red hair, lots of tattoos. An alcoholic, I would say.”

  “I knew this,” the Sheriff hissed. “Once I knew it.” His gaze stabbed at David.

  “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”

  “Are you kidding?” David exploded. “You didn’t ask! And when I do try to talk, you usually dismiss me out of hand! Why didn’t I tell you? I can’t even believe you’re asking. And that name might mean something to you, but it doesn’t to me.”

  “It’s not his name,” the Sheriff said. “His name is Kostye Dvesene. ‘Kostyena’ means ‘daughter of Kostye.’”

  “Well, who is he?”

  “A nightmare,” the Sheriff said. “We hunted him. We failed. I was exiled to your—” His face twisted. “No,” he said. It ground out of him. “I went after him. I exiled myself to find him. And then I forgot—the curse made me forget. I thought we were chasing the whelp of some Marchland imp. If she hadn’t annoyed me I would have turned my attention elsewhere a long time ago.”

  “And now?”

  “Kostye Dvesene.” He said it like an obscenity.

  The Sheriff stared after the ship for a little while longer.

  “Pick one of the boys,” he finally said. “I don’t care which one. Bring him to me here at sundown.”

  PART FOUR

  BEYOND AND BEYOND

  ONE

  TWO STARS

  Well, that’s really weird,” Errol said.

  “Yes,” Aster replied, watching the sea fill ahead of them and fade in their wake. Out to maybe a hundred feet it shimmered on all sides. Veronica cried out in glee as three dolphins leapt, one after the other, then laughed in astonished amusement as one arced beyond the water and became a skeleton in midair. Flying fish skipped by, doing the same trick, crumbling into little clouds of dust.

  But beneath them she could feel the swells, the absolute reality of the water they sailed upon.

  “Well, sure, all of this weirdness,” Errol said. “But I actually meant that.” He pointed at her face.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You’ve got a star on your forehead,” he said. “Like Dusk.”

  “What?” She felt for it, but her fingers only encountered skin.

  Dusk, who had also been marveling at the now partly-filled sea, turned quickly at Errol’s pronouncement. Her mouth dropped open, and she hurried over.

  “By the Vast,” she murmured. “I should have known. How—why did you hide this?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Aster said.

  The lie came out before she even considered telling the truth, and it felt natural. After all, until a few days ago, she really hadn’t known about it.

  Dusk seemed to buy it.

  “You really didn’t know, did you?” she said.

  “A star. Like yours?” Aster asked, hoping she didn’t sound obviously disingenuous.

  “Near,” Dusk said, and
reached to trace it with her finger. Aster flinched, but allowed the little intrusion.

  “We’re family, then,” she said. “There can be no doubt. Who are your parents?”

  “I never knew my mother,” she said.

  “But your father?”

  She felt her heart pounding. She wanted to lie about that, too, but Errol knew her father’s name, and Veronica probably did.

  “My father’s name is Kostye Dvesene,” she said.

  Dusk tilted her head. “That name is unknown to me,” she said. “What more do you know of your family?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “He tells me nothing.”

  “How curious,” Dusk said. “But now I understand why I was drawn to help you. We are cousins, distant or near. Our fates are bound together.”

  Aster was torn. On the one hand, she desperately wanted to know more about her family—Dusk’s family. On the other, she wanted this conversation to be over. Her father had hidden her away from everyone, family included. Maybe especially from family. She desperately wished she could talk to him before things went any further. Or that he had told her a little more, dammit.

  “Well,” Aster said. “This is all very confusing. To have a cousin, all of a sudden. You’ll forgive me if this comes as a shock.”

  “Of course,” Dusk said. “We’ll talk when you’re ready.”

  So she doesn’t really want to get into this either, Aster realized, and wondered what that could mean.

  “Why don’t we have a look at the ship?” Veronica interposed. “For all we know an ogre is hiding below decks, waiting to make a meal of us.”

  Instead of an ogre they found cabins with beds made up in silk sheets and down comforters, a dining room (Errol called it a mess) complete with a table set with china and crystal. The hold had a steep ramp that allowed the horses to enter it from the middle deck, and that was empty as well.

  They found no stores or cupboards, but when Aster returned to the mess at noon she found the serving plates plenished with lamb chops in a green sauce, a whole fish, croquettes of some sort, peas, and a clear soup with tiny star-shaped dumplings. The horses were likewise supplied with grain and sweet grass.

  She, Dusk, and Billy ate while Errol and Veronica watched.