The Night Parade

by Scott Ciencin

  “You know who I am,” Sixx said with a gentleness that surprised Krystin. Realizing that she could not break free, she ceased her struggles, hoping that she could lull Sixx into removing his hand long enough for her to attract help.

  Dangling the emerald locket before her face, Lord Sixx whispered, “This bauble had special significance to you. It would be a shame to see it destroyed.”

  With a flick of his wrist, Lord Sixx slapped the locket into his palm and began to squeeze. Krystin’s eyes grew wide with terror as she saw the locket begin to flatten. A look of absolute sadness crept into Lord Sixx’s face. “I don’t want to torment you. I don’t want to give you pain. But I must be certain that you will at least hear me out.”

  Krystin’s gaze was fixed on the locket. Lord Sixx allowed it to fall from his iron grip. It dangled once again by the chain. For a moment she became aware of the green of his primary set of eyes, the exact color of the emerald locket.

  “I can make your nightmares vanish. I can give you the sweetest dreams of your life and make the visions that haunt you go away forever. But all this comes at a price.” He frowned. “It is not a terrible price. I am willing to forgive the crimes you have committed against our people. Further, I will reward you by giving you that which you desire most. For you to trust me, however, you must be made to see that you have misjudged our people.”

  She could smell the corpse in the corner of the room.

  “Humans hunt us because we are different. We are beyond their understanding. Without the apparatus, they cannot harm us. All we want is to be left alone. You can help us. In return, there is much I can give you. I know the secrets of your past. I have been inside your dreams. I will share all with you, even the significance of the locket, if you cooperate.”

  Krystin stared at the Night Parade’s leader, a part of her so entrenched in her own needs and desires that it forced her to actually consider his offer. If she did not learn the truth and dispel the nightmarish visions that disturbed her waking hours, she would go insane. She was certain of this.

  “I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth. If you scream, I will be forced to kill you and your sacrifice will be for nothing. There are more than a hundred of our kind gathered near this place. Twice that number will arrive before your friends can fight their way to safety. If you do not cooperate, they all will die. Nod if you understand.”

  Krystin shook her head and Lord Sixx removed his hand. She looked across at Alden, and said, “We trusted you.”

  The straw-haired young man turned away.

  “Poor Alden,” Lord Sixx said softly. “He never knew that the blood in his veins was not human. The boy is a hunter. He has senses that a wolf would envy. It was the gift of his mother, who is long dead. And he moves with the speed of the wind, the gift of his father, Dymas, who has been summoned from exile to rear him at last. Pieraccinni fancied himself the boy’s father, but he could never bring himself to tell Alden the truth.” Lord Sixx shrugged. “I think Pieraccinni enjoyed the company of humans far too—”

  “What do you want of me?” Krystin said sharply.

  “To the point. I like that. We’ll work well together.”

  “I’ll help you, but only if it will save the others.”

  “Oh,” Lord Sixx said happily. “Very well. Then you don’t want the rewards I have to bestow upon you.” He dropped the locket on her chest. “You don’t need to know where you came from, if Myrmeen Lhal is your mother or not.”

  Krystin hesitated. Slowly, like a stone wall with a hairline crack becoming wider until it shatters from immense pressure, her brave facade fell away and she began to cry.

  In a tiny voice she asked, “What do you want from me?”

  Lord Sixx turned her wounded arm until the gash faced outward. He motioned for Alden to come quickly. With a shamed expression, Alden crouched before the table and opened his mouth as Lord Sixx squeezed Krystin’s arm until a few drops of her blood fell to Alden’s flickering tongue.

  Alden fell to his knees, covering his face. “I have her scent,” he said. “I will not lose it.”

  “Very good,” Lord Sixx said. “Return to the shadows. I taught you how. Do it.”

  Krystin watched as Alden retreated to the room’s shadow-laden corner. His body appeared to become a silhouette, then he merged with the darkness and was gone.

  Lord Sixx bent over her and gently caressed her hair. His breath stank. Removing his glove, he exposed to the pale yellow light three sets of eyes lining his forearm. They blinked repeatedly, then slowly opened their lids all the way as they adjusted to the luminescence. The different sets of eyes looked out in varying directions. Then he spoke:

  “I will mend your wound, just as if the healer had done it himself. Tell Shandower that the old man ordered the lot of you to be gone. He will believe the words came from the ill-tempered man and will depart gladly. From time to time, wherever he takes you, reopen your wound and allow a drop or two of blood to fall. That is all you must do.”

  “You’ll follow us.”

  “Safely, at a distance. There will be no further need for confrontation. When we get to where the apparatus is kept, we will take it and go.”

  “Shandower,” she said, slurring the word as she began to feel drowsy. Sixx’s many eyes were mesmerizing her, she realized, and she was allowing it to happen.

  “Do not concern yourself with him. He knew the cost.”

  “But Myrmeen and the Harpers—”

  “They will live. We have no wish to do them harm, Krystin. I will not lie to you.”

  His angular features twisted up in a smile that was meant to be comforting. Instead, it made Krystin’s heart beat wildly as he brought his arm to her face and instructed her to stare at the eyes. She felt the haziness of dreams quickly overtake her, then heard him laugh as he said, “Now we shall see what we shall see.…”

  Suddenly her world was draped in shadows. When she woke, she was alone in the room. Sixx was gone, along with the old healer’s body. While she had slept, her dreams had revealed the truth. She sat up, the restraints once again dangling over the edge of the table, and heard the emerald locket clatter to the floor as it slid from her chest. Leaping off the table, she snatched it from the floor, examined its surface, and held it close to her breast.

  She remained like that for a time, then rose and went upstairs to greet the others. Her wound had been dressed, and she was surprised to learn that she had only been absent for a matter of minutes.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw something move in the shadows—a reminder that not all of what she had experienced had been a dream. Dully, she recited the words Lord Sixx had given her, and Shandower laughed, not at all surprised that the old healer had evicted them. As they prepared to leave, Krystin held her locket before her. With trembling lips, she said, “My locket, the chain broke.”

  “I can fix that for you,” Ord said. “Don’t worry.”

  She nodded. As they left the house and became one with the night, Krystin found that worrying was the only task she still had strength to accomplish. As they carefully made their way through the streets, to the stables where their mounts and supplies waited, Krystin hurried and walked beside Myrmeen. Without a word, she put her arm around the woman’s waist and rested her head on Myrmeen’s shoulder.

  Myrmeen had been shocked and had raised her hands. She lowered them slowly and wrapped them around Krystin, practically dragging the girl with her as they walked along, wordless, into the deepening night.

  Myrmeen squinted in the harsh light of the afternoon sun. They had left Calimport the previous evening and had been on what Shandower described as the Dead Run ever since. The route he had chosen once had been favored by traders trying to make time and avoid the blistering stretches of desert north of the city. They had come east, on a trail of land that ran parallel to the shoreline. The route was hazardous and the name it had been given was well deserved. On several occasions, the mounts had refused to move any farther
. Shandower understood that they were approaching pockets of land that had been subtly altered by the magical and physical upheavals during the time of Arrival, when the gods had walked the Realms. An apparently safe patch of land could suddenly shift, like a sink hole, and swallow an entire party of travelers without a hint of warning.

  Myrmeen looked past the winding, craggy cliff to the gulf below. The waters were choppy and the afternoon sun sparkling on the surface dispelled the initial impression that the sea was as hard as glass. A hazy band of white gathered at the horizon, separating the vast expanse of the Shining Sea from the distant sky. As her mount carried her through the difficult path Shandower had chosen, Myrmeen closed her eyes and imagined that she was home in Arabel, lying in her scented bath with delicate tongues of water caressing her flesh. A high squeal of laughter from behind her sent the fantasy scurrying from her mind, and she opened her eyes to the blinding sunlight. Her skin was covered in sweat from the sweltering heat. She smelled foul, and she hated it.

  Shandower rode point, Reisz had been beside her, and Krystin had been riding with Ord for the past two hours. The young Harper had honored his promise and fixed the chain on her emerald locket the previous evening, when they had stopped for the night. He had used the cooking fires to fuse the metal together, a crude but serviceable solution that had delighted the fourteen-year-old.

  “Keep aware, you two!” Reisz shouted. His words were met with even more laughter. The Harper shook his head sourly as he turned to Myrmeen. “They never listen.”

  “Perhaps that’s just as well,” Myrmeen said with a weariness that made her sound and feel older than her thirty-four years. “I don’t think Krystin’s ever had the chance just to be a child, not to have to worry about survival.”

  “Ord has never had that chance either,” Reisz said.

  “I should ask her about it. In all the time we’ve been together, I’ve never allowed her to be herself. I think I’ve been putting expectations on her. You understand, it’s as if I’ve been saying to her, ‘This is what I want my daughter to be. If you don’t measure up, well, then, I suppose you can take the next caravan out.’ ”

  “Were you allowed to be a child?” he asked.

  She laughed. “Most of my adult life, it seems.” With a sigh, she added, “Reisz, I don’t know what to do.”

  The swarthy-skinned Harper looked over his shoulder and said, “For one thing, you could tend to that situation before it gets even more out of control.”

  Myrmeen had no idea what he was talking about. Glancing back in the direction he had indicated, Myrmeen was stunned to see Krystin and Ord riding side by side, their mounts close enough that they were able to hold hands as they rode. Krystin brought Ord’s hand to her lips and kissed it gently.

  A hammer blow to the forehead would have been less jarring to Myrmeen. She looked away and gripped the reins of her mount so tightly that her knuckles became white.

  “How long has this been going on?” she asked.

  Raising an eyebrow, Reisz said, “How long have they known each other? You, of all people, couldn’t see what was going on?”

  Swallowing hard, Myrmeen said, “I thought they were just friends. I wanted her to have someone she could confide in. She certainly wasn’t embracing me in that regard.”

  “You weren’t doing much to encourage her, Myrmeen. And I don’t believe you had much to do with this situation either—other than pushing Krystin away whenever she needed you, that is.”

  Myrmeen tensed. “Have you forgotten she stole from us?”

  “She stole from you. Perhaps it was the only way to get your attention.”

  “Strange words, coming from a Harper.”

  “The situation is not exactly normal, Myrmeen. Perhaps when we stop next to make sure we are not being followed, I’ll take Ord to the side and give him a few gentle urgings about how he should conduct himself with impressionable young ladies, and you can have a discussion with Krystin.”

  Myrmeen frowned as she considered how Krystin would take it. “One of the things I’ve always hated most is having someone else tell me what to do.”

  “Then you won’t accept my suggestion?”

  “No, you’re right,” she said. Myrmeen set her gaze toward his face, noting the obvious compassion that softened his scarred features. “Reisz, there was a time when I needed to be taken care of and you were—”

  “I think I should see how Shandower is faring. He could still get delirious from his wound.”

  Abruptly, Reisz prodded his mount forward and left Myrmeen to ride alone for a time.

  Night had fallen before Myrmeen had a chance for a quiet moment alone with Krystin. Despite Shandower’s warnings that they all should remain together, Myrmeen took Krystin to the shore, where they waded into the gulfs cool, refreshing waters after removing their leathers and boots. Both women were expert swimmers, and before long they were tussling in the waters, holding each other’s heads below the surface and racing each other back to shore. Afterward, they lay on the beach, the cool white sand clinging to their bare bodies in the strong moonlight. They stared up at the pinpricks of light visible beyond the layer of drifting clouds that sometimes stepped in front of the waiting moon.

  “Your arm,” Myrmeen said. “It’s bleeding again.”

  Krystin tensed visibly. “The healer said it might from time to time—nothing to worry about.”

  Myrmeen picked up a sheer dressing gown she had taken from her bags and returned to the waters. She wetted the gown and wrung it out as if it were a worthless rag rather than an expensive import. When she returned, Myrmeen took Krystin’s arm and dabbed at the gash, cleaning out any sand that may have lodged in the wound.

  Krystin was surprised by the softness of her mother’s hands. From what she had gathered about the woman’s past, she had expected Myrmeen’s skin to be hard and worn by her trials, as toughened and leathery as her demeanor had been after their first day together. What she had seen tonight had made her question the validity of that appearance.

  Both women could sense that the walls separating them were finally beginning to fall. They shared an excitement that was laced with trepidation as they stood together on the brink of a new and terrifying journey.

  Myrmeen talked about her childhood in Calimport, her father’s death, her involvement with the Harpers, her service as a ranger, and her marriage to Dak. Krystin rolled over and stared into the older woman’s eyes. For a moment she thought she could become lost in the deep blue recesses of Myrmeen’s eyes, or sail away forever on the sails of the bright golden ships that made anchor there.

  The older woman held nothing back. She answered Krystin’s every question, no matter how personal or intimate. At last Krystin relaxed and admitted that much of her imposing demeanor was nothing more than a facade, particularly in the area of romance.

  “Then you’ve never—” Myrmeen began.

  “No,” Krystin replied sharply. “But you’ve done it a lot, haven’t you?”

  “If you want the truth, then I don’t know how many men I’ve thrown myself into bed with over the last ten years, since my second husband was killed. But I can tell you this: I know exactly how many of them I’ve made love with.”

  “It’s the same thing.”

  “It isn’t. That’s my point.”

  “How many?”

  She thought of Reisz. “Only one.”

  Krystin closed her eyes and began to shiver. “Do you think Ord is too old for me? Too experienced, maybe? I think he wants more than I’m ready to give. Do you think?”

  “What do you think?” Myrmeen asked softly.

  “Yes,” Krystin replied. “I don’t think I’m ready.”

  Myrmeen stroked the child’s hair, which was much like her own. If you were a little older, we could be sisters, Myrmeen thought. She had barely mentioned the sister she had lost and her mother’s tale of the Night Parade when she was a child, and she purposely avoided mentioning the night her daughter had been tak
en during the great storm.

  “Let’s go back,” Myrmeen said. “You’re shaking.”

  They dressed and returned to camp, where Shandower handed Krystin her emerald locket. The girl fastened the clasp behind her head as Myrmeen lifted her hair out of the way. Reisz came back with Ord ten minutes later, and the young man did not seem pleased. He smiled weakly to Krystin, announced that he was tired, and curled up on the other side of the small fire they had built.

  “Have you seen anything?” Myrmeen asked. “Any hint that we are being shadowed?”

  “Nothing,” Shandower said.

  “I wish Lucius were with us,” Krystin said.

  “We all wish that,” Myrmeen said quickly, realizing she missed him deeply. He had been more than their protector; he had become a trusted friend. “Burke and Varina, too.”

  “I’ll take first watch,” Reisz said. “The rest of you, try to get some sleep.”

  “We should change first,” Myrmeen urged as she took Krystin’s hand and glanced at one of her travel bags. “My leathers became damp, yours too. Neither of us will be worth anything if we get sick sleeping in wet clothes.”

  Krystin agreed. They found a pair of dressing gowns and retreated behind a boulder, where they changed clothes, then returned to the fire and placed their leathers as close to the flames as they could. Myrmeen lay down first, her back turned to Krystin, who decided to sleep beside her. Neither had bothered to lace the backs of their gowns, and, in the fire’s flickering yellow light Krystin was able to see a network of scars upon her mother’s bare back. She said nothing about it and tried to fall asleep, but was still awake half an hour later, thinking of the wounds her mother had endured.