Nathaniel Grey and the Obsidian Crown

by Farrell Keeling

  ‘I’m telling you, I think I’ve got it! Look!’ the first voice insisted excitedly.

  The footsteps stopped.

  ‘Go on then,’ the second voice sighed.

  Nathaniel peeked over the top of the bush he had hid behind and saw two boys, humans, around his age, dressed in midnight robes split at the front from the waist down. Golden sparks burst across a shoulder of their garbs.

  Were these the Warlocks his father had once told him about?

  He looked past the Warlocks toward the towering structure behind them.

  The Spire.

  Dalmarra.

  He was in Dalmarra?

  No. He couldn’t be.

  Surely it was impossible to have covered such a distance in a matter of seconds.

  One of the boys, greasy hair drawn back against his scalp, had his arms outstretched towards the other, his long blonde hair strapped into a pony-tail.

  ‘Well?’ the boy with the pony-tail said, looking highly unimpressed with his friend’s efforts.

  ‘You didn’t feel that?’ the first boy frowned.

  ‘If it’s boredom you mean, then yes, I feel it,’ the second boy replied mirthlessly.

  The vein on the first boy’s temple stood pronounced, as he thrust his arms forth once more, throbbing with his apparent exertions.

  ‘There!’ he said proudly, arms collapsing by his sides, ‘did you feel it? You must have this time.’

  ‘Felt what?’ the other boy replied impatiently.

  ‘Your hair! I moved it,’ the first proclaimed with a beam.

  ‘That’s just the breeze,’ the second said, patting at his pony-tail all the same, as if to check it was still attached to his head.

  ‘No, I’m telli–’

  ‘Remind me exactly what it was that you moved in your room?’

  The boy with the greasy hair mumbled something out of earshot into his feet.

  ‘A quill? You moved a quill,’ the boy with the ponytail said incredulously, ‘and you’re sure it didn’t happen to just fall off your desk?’

  As the other boy began to bluster, Nathaniel slowly crept out from the bush and edged away to the paved path.

  Once the foliage around the path had fully concealed him from the Warlocks, Nathaniel broke into a run, not caring for stealth any longer.

  The path meandered and curved so wildly, it was impossible to tell if anyone had pursued him. Indeed, the two Warlocks’ voices had long since been drowned out.

  WHAM!

  One moment Nathaniel was running, the next he was sprawled on the paving blocks nursing his head after it had collided with what felt like a brick wall.

  Bronze armour plates creaked as the ‘brick wall’ turned.

  It was unlike anything Nathaniel had ever seen. Blue bolts of lightning crackled across the soldier’s heavy armour, as if the very suit was alive with Majik. Another stood in wait just beyond them both, close to a giant set of gates that were fit to guard a city. They dwarfed even these ‘lightning soldiers.’

  Lances, tipped with spear-heads the size of Nathaniel’s thigh, were grasped in one hand. Neither made a move or gesture after, or even said a word. They just stood there, staring silently through their closed visors.

  ‘Ummmm,’ Nathaniel said.

  Still they stared.

  ‘I just need to leave.’

  KACHING!

  Both lances were snapped up in the air, angled towards their prey like spears.

  ‘I’m not here to cause trouble,’ Nathaniel said, raising his hands and backing away. ‘I was kidnapped!’

  The soldiers paid no heed to his pleas and advanced steadily towards him.

  ‘Why won’t you listen to me? I haven’t done anything wron–’

  BOOM!

  An explosion at the gate blew both its doors wide open and sent the closest lightning soldier flying into foliage. The second whirled around, armoured knee and lance slapping against the paved stone in an effort to keep upright. Meanwhile, Nathaniel stumbled and fell onto his side with a wince.

  All at once, the city suddenly roared with life. Once gleeful bawls, carried distantly in the wind, cascaded into a clamour of shrieks and cries, coming from every possible direction. The tip of the Spire, jutting out over the edge of the oaks beside Nathaniel, lit up like a bonfire in the night sky.

  Dazed, the Regal frowned at the haze of smoke and dust billowing out from the wreckage of steel and cracked paving blocks.

  ‘NATHANIEL GREY!’

  The shout seemed to come from the smoke itself, but then a large shape emerged from the fog, carrying a sword of giant proportions across broad shoulders.

  Whilst not quite as tall as the lightning soldiers, he made up for the difference in mass, his skin writhing as it fought to keep the sheer amount of muscle in check. He used his free hand to brush the dust off his black sleeveless overcoat, as he looked toward the kneeling lightning soldier with gleeful eyes.

  Silver eyes.

  His face split into a grin when he found the Regal beyond it.

  ‘Nathaniel?’ he called to him.

  Nathaniel nodded hesitantly, hoping that the sword wasn’t for him.

  ‘Today’s your lucky day, little Regal,’ the Hunter hefted the sword over his head as he spoke, the effort seeming somewhat minimal.

  I’m not little, Nathaniel bristled at the words.

  He followed the man’s glance toward the run of trees on the right of Nathaniel where the second lightning soldier was quietly picking itself up from the floor.

  ‘What are you waiting for, Nath? We don’t have all day!’

  Nath? Now I’m being called Nath?

  The first lightning soldier was slowly cutting the space between itself and the lone Hunter.

  The absence of Nathaniel’s rapier had never felt so heavy.

  ‘Regal!’

  Shaking himself out of his stupor, Nathaniel bounded forward, narrowly avoiding the second lightning soldier’s lance. The spear tip striking his shadow where it lingered on the paving block.

  The other paid him no heed, fortunately more interested in its armed quarry. The two combatants held their blades in line with each other’s, while their feet danced a slow caper back to what remained of the gate.

  ‘What now?’ Nathaniel gasped upon reaching the Hunter.

  ‘There’ll be someone waiting for you outside,’ the Hunter instructed him.

  The lightning soldier’s lance had almost reached the tip of the Hunter’s broadsword.

  ‘You’re not coming?’ Nathaniel gave the man a shocked look.

  ‘Not a chance!’ the Hunter grinned back, as if Nathaniel were really the mad one for missing this opportunity. ‘Now go!’

  The Hunter’s hand, brick-like in density, shoved the Regal away, just as the lance shot forward.

  The sound of steel on steel echoed behind Nathaniel, as he burst through the film of dust, almost drowned out by the Hunter’s raucous laughter.

  ‘Mad,’ Nathaniel shook his head. ‘He’s actually mad.’

  The laughter that escaped from his lips felt both soothing and perverse. In one day, he’d escaped the Stone, had somehow landed in Dalmarra and bumped into a Hunter. Surely things couldn’t get any stranger?

  ‘Mr. Grey?’

  Apparently, things could.

  Nathaniel briefly glimpsed a pair of hands flash in front of him, before a hood was draped over his head.

  ‘Mmmmm! ‘Geroff!’ Nathaniel cried out, his voice muffled through the cloth.

  Whoever had a hold of Nathaniel was strong. Strong enough that he had both the Regal’s wrists pinned behind his back with one hand as he shepherded Nathaniel blindly forward.

  ‘‘Ou’ll ‘egret this!’ Nathaniel exclaimed. Adding ‘‘robably,’ wondering how many times

  Nathaniel groaned as his shin caught something hard, then he was lifted and shoved roughly onto a seat.

  ‘‘Emme go!’

  A door slammed shut beside Nathaniel as the hood was l
ifted from his head.

  ‘Nathaniel Grey… at last,’ a voice spoke. Its owner bathed in shadow.

  Chapter 10

  A man draped in dark robes sat before him. The lower half of his face was the only part of his body visible – besides his pale hands – with his lips curled into a cold, hangman’s smile.

  There was something disquieting by how at ease he seemed within the darkness of the carriage. Indeed, it were as if the dark moulded itself around him, like a throne for a king.

  ‘Forgive the rough welcome,’ the man waved a pale hand casually, as if discussing the weather. It was clear that the statement was not a request.

  ‘That man… the Hunter,’ Nathaniel looked for a window, but found the carriage to be lacking in such concessions to light. The man opposite him remained perfectly poised as he fumbled around.

  ‘Boulder will have the situation under control–’

  ‘–you call that under control?’ Nathaniel’s eyes widened, ‘blowing up the Spire’s gates and fighting those-those things! Are you trying to start a war? Who in Athrana’s name do you think you ar–’

  A sharp chill running down the length of the Regal’s spine silenced him suddenly.

  Nathaniel could not see the man’s eyes, yet he had felt such a piercing gaze that had all but frozen his insides.

  ‘Who are you?’ Nathaniel whispered.

  ‘You interest me, Regal, so I will indulge you. I am called the Shadow,’ the man replied. His answer did not bring Nathaniel any warmth. ‘Normally I would have preferred a more… subtle extraction, but I needed a guarantee that you would be brought to me unharmed and unspoilt by Warlock hands–’

  ‘–you mean kidnapping more like!’ Nathaniel yelled, finding his voice once more. ‘First, I’ve been thrown in a dungeon cell, then some man controlling shadows whisks me off here! And now, I’ve you to thank, do I?’

  The Shadow’s seemingly impenetrable composure faltered, if but for a moment.

  ‘Say that again,’ he said softly.

  ‘What?’ Nathaniel replied.

  ‘About the man who wields shadows!’ the Shadow’s voice did not rise, yet it seemed to carry more force all of the sudden, crushing Nathaniel against his seat.

  Nathaniel swallowed. ‘It’s as I said… he held shadows in his hands… he hurt Illu -- the woman I was with.’

  The Shadow leaned forward, folding his hands together, ‘what did he look like?’

  ‘He… he had a pointy beard, dark robes,’ Nathaniel recalled. ‘They were red at the bottom.’

  The Shadow calmly leaned back into his poised position, as if he’d never left it in the first place.

  ‘Crow,’ he said.

  ‘Crow?’ Nathaniel frowned.

  ‘This man you speak of, Nathaniel. His name is Crow,’ the Shadow replied, ‘a dangerous man by all accounts… and of great interest to me too.’

  ‘Why would a man like that interest you? Who exactly are you?’

  ‘Why do you think you interest me, Nathaniel?’ the Shadow smiled wryly.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ Nathaniel blinked at the question.

  The carriage door swung open abruptly and light flooded the inside.

  Before Nathaniel could begin to ask where they had arrived he was dragged out of the carriage, the hood swiftly restored over his head.

  ‘Where are ‘ou ‘aking me?’ Nathaniel growled.

  ‘This is for your own good, Regal,’ the man said.

  Nathaniel was stopped dead in his tracks, as what felt like rope was being tied around his waist, binding his arms to his sides.

  ‘‘Et me ‘o!’ Nathaniel demanded.

  ‘As you wish, Regal.’

  The ground beneath Nathaniel vanished after he was shoved forwards, the roar of the air drowning out his cries as he fell.

  There was a snap, like a whip against stone, that shook every bone in his body, and then he was still.

  Nathaniel fought against the urge to be sick as he swung helplessly to-and-fro.

  Gods… Am I… dead?

  Shouts seemingly coming from all directions appeared to suggest otherwise.

  ‘‘Elp!’ Nathaniel cried, squirming where he hung.

  Something cut cleanly through the rope, bringing Nathaniel crashing painfully into solid ground.

  ‘Who’s this guy?’ a voice muttered amidst Nathaniel’s groans.

  ‘Fancy pants ain’t from these parts, that’s for sure,’ another guffawed.

  ‘Wait… I’ve seen the likes of these before,’ heavy handed fingers probed the material of his tunic. ‘Spitting hell,’ the first voice breathed, ‘it’s a blasted Regal!’

  ‘Fael?’

  ‘It can’t be. He must be halfway back to the Black Mountains already.’

  ‘What about Old Fire-Fyes’ woman?’

  ‘You bonehead!’ a third chipped in. ‘You never seen a woman before? Why don’t we remove this first, eh?’

  The hood was jerked off Nathaniel’s head in one head scalping tug, bringing him face-to-face with a boy kneeling before him. The boy looked around his age, with curly brown locks tickling the top of his brow. He had a sharp jaw, well pronounced by high cheekbones and gaunt cheeks. Though, the boy was built like an ox, with broad shoulders framing a shirtless, soot covered torso. The two other boys standing either side of him, thickset arms crossed like thugs, looked even larger and stared down at their quarry with something akin to grimaces.

  The boy in front of him frowned.

  ‘You’re not Fael,’ he said.

  ‘Sorry to disappoint,’ the words slipped from Nathaniel’s lips quicker than he could catch them.

  The boy snatched a handful of his tunic, dragging Nathaniel up close. ‘Who in the blazes are you then?’ lips baring as he snarled to reveal a set of unusually large incisors poking out underneath. Abnormally so, in fact.

  Nathaniel took a sizeable intake of breath as soon as the realisation struck him.

  Lycans. Three of them.

  Nathaniel felt his hand twitch beside his belt and had to remind himself once again of the fact he was completely unarmed.

  Athrana’s grace, what are they going to do with me?

  One of the boys either side suggested throwing Nathaniel ‘out the mines.’

  He was in the mines?

  ‘You blazing stone-head, don’t be stupid!’ the boy who had a hold of him growled back, pushing Nathaniel roughly to the ground. ‘We’re taking him back to Sanctuary, come on.’

  The two thuggish-looking boys exchanged a dim look with each other.

  ‘Now!’ the third boy commanded, chucking the hood carelessly behind him, ‘and cover his damn eyes!’

  Chapter 11

  Half-carried, half-dragged, Nathaniel was ushered uphill, tripping regularly on the haphazardly uneven surface of the mine. The air was so stale that Nathaniel found himself almost suffocating underneath the hood.

  ‘‘Ere are ‘ou ‘aking me,’ Nathaniel spoke, attempting to sound braver than he felt under the circumstances.

  ‘Quit your whining, Regal,’ the boy in charge said.

  ‘What are ‘ou going to do ‘ith me?’ Nathaniel said.

  The boy gave a sinister chuckle in reply.

  Nathaniel felt his stomach drop.

  On some turns, new voices greeted them, and others expressed curiosity toward the Lycans’ prisoner.

  ‘Off to eat poor Fael, again?’ someone chuckled.

  Athrana’s grace… please, please, please, don’t let these beasts eat me! Nathaniel thought desperately.

  ‘Not today,’ came the response. ‘We’ve got a special guest for ‘ol fire-eyes.’

  ‘‘et me ‘o!’ Nathaniel cried out.

  ‘Would you keep it down!’ the boy growled at him.

  ‘Hope you’ve got a good reason for the hood, Brother, I doubt fire-eyes will see the funny side of this a third time.’

  ‘Oh, believe me, he’ll see my side, this time.’

  Soon after, the gr
ound began to even out. Their steps echoing as they traipsed along.

  ‘Almost there, grey-skin,’ the boy said, all too eagerly.

  Aespora toray… where were these animals dragging him? And who in the name of Ozin was this Old Fire-Eyes character?

  Their footsteps came to a halt. A brief pause, swiftly followed with a sharp rap of knuckles on wood.

  Silence.

  A chair was pushed back in the other room.

  ‘The door is open,’ someone called from the other side.

  The two boys hoisted Nathaniel off his feet once more past the threshold before lumping him back down, only to be pulled ahead by a third set of hands.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you, Brother,’ the boy began.

  ‘Is this how we treat our guests now, Gabriel?’ the voice was stern and yet exasperated. ‘Don’t you think Fael has been frightened out of his wits with your pranks one time too many?’

  Nathaniel felt the boy’s hand dig uncomfortably into his shoulder.

  ‘Sorry, Brother, but this one isn’t Fael.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘He isn’t Fael,’ the boy repeated. ‘We have an intruder.’

  Another unceremonious tug of the hood and Nathaniel was left blinking rapidly at the sudden change in light.

  A moment of silence elapsed, broken by a soft chuckle.

  ‘This is no intruder, Gabriel,’ said the stern voice. It seemed to be coming from the blur in front of him, slowly sharpening into focus.

  The man’s mid-length ginger hair – despite his own obvious attempts to tame it with wax – flew wildly back over his head. His nose looked like it had been broken a long time ago and hadn’t quite reset, and he had a darkly intense pair of grey eyes, each rimmed with a line of amber. They appeared to flicker and flare, like flames, the longer Nathaniel stared into them.

  This must have been the man the Lycans referred to as ‘Old Fire-Eyes.’

  ‘Nathaniel, I presume?’

  He nodded hesitantly.

  ‘You know him, Brother?’ Gabriel said, his hand loosening on the Regal’s shoulder.

  ‘Of him. Gabriel, oh yes,’ the man said. ‘In much the same way he knows of me.

  ‘This is Nathaniel Grey. My grandson.’

  Nathaniel’s jaw dropped and Gabriel’s hand slipped off Nathaniel’s shoulder entirely.