Red Season Rising (Red Season Series Book 1)

by D. M. Murray

Kalfinar nodded towards the lady, not paying any particular attention to her. He rubbed the back of his head and heard Broden greet the physician’s daughter.

  “Sore head, Kalfinar?” Sarbien asked.

  “Aye. It’s been throbbing at the back and down the front, spreading behind my eyes. It seems to grow worse each day.” Kalfinar noticed that Sarbien’s bushy brows were knitting.

  “What about your sleep, lad, have you been getting much of that lately?”

  Broden remained silent, observing his cousin with concern upon his red-bearded face.

  “I’ve not slept much since I joined the garrison at Hardalen. Lately, it’s gotten to be much worse.”

  Sarbien opened a cabinet behind his desk. It was filled with shelves of glass jars, all filled with multi-coloured powders and substances. He stretched and selected a small jar with a pink powder. He gathered a small measuring spoon and placed one level scoop of the powder into a coffee cup in front of Kalfinar. “Take this. It will sooth the pain.”

  Kalfinar gratefully drank the bitter mixture and began to take in the nature of the room. The floor was set several feet below the level of the rest of the house, and the walls rose from the floor into a dome. They were entirely coated in copper and windowless. “I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but this is a most unusual room, Sarbien,” Kalfinar voiced his observation.

  “It is my private study. What happens within it is of the highest importance and none who have ill intent must learn of what is spoken. It is very safe.” Sarbien smiled to both Kalfinar and Broden as though he had shared a great joke with them.

  Kalfinar looked intensely at the physician, not sure how to take his response.

  Sarbien continued, undeterred, “As you will both no doubt be aware, there are acts in motion that are beyond your understanding.” He pointed a long, wrinkled finger towards the murky jar on the desk. “You seek answers and if you but wait a short while longer, you shall have them.”

  Pain hammered at the inside of Kalfinar’s head. “Wait longer! That’s all I damn well hear these days. All this time we are waiting for answers, our friends and our countrymen are dying around us. Someone had better start giving me some fucking answers. Who in the darkness are these people?” He pointed towards the jar, his nostrils flaring with frustration. “Damn it, I don’t even know if we can call them people!” Kalfinar looked at the blue gaze of Sarbien, and suddenly felt the impotence of his fury.

  Sarbien said, “You can trust me entirely. The forces that work against us have many agents and many means to glean our understandings. This room is secure from most things, but there is another place which is said cannot be breached, by any means whatsoever. It is in this place that we must discuss fully the detail, but that place is not here. This night, at midnight, visit the cathedral. You will find a monk at prayer within the vestry. His name is Brother Anthony. He will lead you to the room I speak of, there you will learn the truths. Until then, my sons, you must have patience in your hearts, and caution in your minds.”

  “That’s twice now we have been asked for trust from those unknown to us, physician,” Broden spoke.

  “I understand your concern. Admittedly, I do not know you, Broden, but I know Kalfinar.”

  The two captains’ eyes narrowed.

  “I was present at his birth.” Sarbien looked at Broden as he spoke. He then shifted his blue eyes across to Kalfinar.

  “At my birth? Sarbien, I think now’s the time for some answers,” Kalfinar growled.

  “Tonight, gentlemen. Tonight.” The old physician stood, indicating it was time for them to leave.

  Somewhat hesitantly, Kalfinar rose and left the study.

  *

  “This whole situation stinks of something, Kal,” Broden grumbled as they rode out of the house grounds.

  “It stinks alright, but I think he’s sound.” They exited the gate onto the boulevard again. “Did you notice he looked just like Olmat?”

  Broden grunted in agreement.

  As they exited onto the boulevard, the column of city guards exited the grounds of a large house across from them. A red-faced man wearing a silk nightgown chased them out, swinging an ornate fire poker.

  “Looks like those lads are having a rough time of it.” Broden inclined his head towards the retreating guards.

  Kalfinar did not respond.

  “Kal?” Broden looked across at his cousin. Kalfinar was bent over on his horse, his head in his hands and hair falling down over his face.

  “Something’s coming,” he hissed between clenched teeth. “Someone is watching. It comes!” His voice rose to a shout and an inhuman noises rose from his throat.

  Kalfinar bolted upright. His body stiffened and jolted in his saddle. His hands were clutched at the sides of his head and a look of agony squirmed in his tear-streaked face. A sharp cry of pain erupted as his eyes rolled white and dark blood streaked out his nostrils and down his chin. He lurched forward and jerked stiffly upright once more, his hands still fixed to his head, before falling rigid and heavy from his horse into the dirt.

  CHAPTER TEN

  With the help of Lieutenant Mikell and several of his guardsmen, Broden had Kalfinar brought, thrashing amidst his fit, into Sarbien’s study.

  “Put him down here,” Sarbien directed them to an examination table situated to the side of his desk.

  They held his kicking legs still before strapping them down. Kalfinar’s hands remained locked to the sides of his head with such force that Broden, even with the help of the guardsmen, was unable to part them. Instead, they strapped his abdomen and chest down, whilst two guards held his arms, should they fly loose and strike out. His jaw was locked and teeth clenched. Spit and foam squeezed through the teeth, onto his stubbled chin. Though his eyes were shut, tears found their release and streamed from his face.

  “Everyone but Evelyne, leave the room at once! And shut the door.” Sarbien’s barked.

  Lieutenant Mikell and his guardsmen reacted and hurried out of the room.

  Broden made to question, but stopped short when hit with a sudden, icy glare from the physician.

  “This room will no longer be safe for you, or anyone else. Leave at once!”

  Broden looked in horror as Kalfinar fought against the restraints. Veins bulged in his reddening face and the cords of his neck strained beneath his skin. Kalfinar’s head thrashed and battered against the examining table. The white froth from between his teeth merged with the dark blood that streamed out his nose.

  “Save him,” Broden said.

  “Go now!” Sarbien replied.

  *

  Once the room had emptied, Evelyne looked up at her father. “It happened much sooner than we thought.”

  “Too soon,” Sarbien replied, his face grim. “It must almost have him. We’ll need to be quick if we’re going to save him. Remember your training, my dear. This is no place for doubt.”

  Evelyne placed seven opaque vials upright on the floor around the examining table. Her movements, direct and exact, were well practiced. She poured a clear powder in the space between each vial, connecting them and enclosing Kalfinar and Sarbien inside the circle.

  Sarbien sat cross-legged at the head of the table. His eyes were shut and his open palms rested upon his knees.

  Evelyne mirrored her father’s position at the foot of the table, but outside the circle.

  Sarbien prayed rapidly and Evelyne repeated his silent words.

  Their soundless prayer entered and flowed around the circle. Each vial began to shimmer, like dust motes ablaze. The flashes swelled in size and duration, growing stronger, brighter and more powerful with every repetition of their prayer.

  With hands still pressed to his head, Kalfinar’s body lurched and fought against the restraints.

  Sarbien and Evelyne spilt out the words of their prayer at greater speed. The glow spread from the core of the vials, growing so powerful it illuminated the room with brilliant white light.

  Kalfinar’s thra
shing continued, spit and blood spattering over his body, the table and the floor. Juddering, agonised moans escaped from between gritted teeth. One of Kalfinar’s legs ripped free from the leather strap, allowing it to rattle and flail as his thrashing worsened.

  The thrashing stopped, and his body lay motionless.

  Evelyne looked at her father, not quite able to see him, so bright was the light from the vials. She could sense that he had stopped praying. The light began to fade away.

  Kalfinar’s chest rose and fell peacefully as he breathed, the room now still.

  “Has it happened?” Evelyne asked.

  Sarbien remained fixed in his pose of prayer, his busy brows furrowed in thought. “I’m not sure. Normally, there’s a more obvious release when—”

  Kalfinar’s head snapped back, pushing his jaw upwards. His fingers snaked into his hair and dug into his scalp. Bright blood ran down his fingers. Spit and cries shot between his peeled back lips and clamped jaws.

  Sarbien and Evelyne resumed their chanting with ferocious urgency. This time, their voices rang out loud in the room. The glow from the circle of vials sparked alive. The light grew, illuminating the room with a brilliant whiteness once more, and then disappeared.

  Kalfinar’s cries warped and bubbled with the guttural screams of another, an alien voice bound within his own. The unnatural cacophony sounded with painful volume. His jaws unlocked and he took one mighty, ragged gasp of air.

  They continued chanting at a frenzied pace. Sweat and pained effort marked the face of Sarbien as he sat within the circle.

  Kalfinar’s eyes opened wide and he released a short and chilling scream. There was none of his own voice in it. The powder between the vials erupted in a blinding flash of purple flame and Kalfinar’s cry cut off. His arms fell limp at either side.

  A formless howl erupted around the room when a stinging wind of heat and fear flashed by each of their faces before disappearing, leaving the room in uneasy silence.

  Kalfinar’s sweat-drenched head rolled to one side, his eyes vacantly staring to where Evelyne stood, beyond the circle of purple flame.

  “Where is it?” she whispered to her father as he rose.

  “Look at me, child,” Sarbien whispered to her. “Keep your eyes on me.”

  “Where is it?” her voice trembled.

  “Up by the ceiling, behind my desk.” Sarbien’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “Don’t look at it. We must protect Kalfinar first.” He silently incanted a short phrase and opened his palm, within which appeared a small spherical amulet made of a copper-like metal. He lifted Kalfinar’s head and placed the small amulet around his neck. “There, he’s safe,” Sarbien whispered to his daughter. “You know the prayer.” Sarbien turned to face the unseen form cowering near the ceiling behind his desk. His lips parted in preparation for the prayer. “Spirit—”

  “Kal!” Broden burst into the room.

  “No!” Sarbien cried as the unseen spirit flashed between he and Evelyne, sending a spray of papers in the air and wailing banefully as it flew past Broden and out of the room.

  “You damn fool!” Sarbien roared. “You’ve no idea what you’ve done!”

  “I’m sorry, my lord,” the serving man said following Broden into the room. “I tried to stop him, but he was too strong.”

  “He couldn’t have known, Father,” Evelyne said.

  “What’s happened? Is Kal alive?” Broden hurried down the stairs and into the room.

  “He’s alive,” Evelyne said.

  “Why in Dajda’s name did you enter?” Sarbien asked of Broden.

  “There was screaming and then silence. I feared he was dead.”

  Sarbien heaved a sigh and shook his head. “The spirit won’t stop hunting him now it has his taste.” He muttered a single word and the glowing vials shimmered briefly, and then were as they had been before the prayer had been uttered.

  The circle of purple flame receded and spluttered out, allowing Evelyne to step forward. She softly closed Kalfinar’s vacant eyes.

  “Fetch some water. His body is parched now,” Sarbien ordered the serving man.

  Broden moved beside Evelyne. “How is he?” His voice was low.

  “He’ll be fine, but he needs rest.”

  “What was that thing?”

  “The servant of another. A spirit. It’s gone now.”

  “Will it come back?”

  “It will. At some point.”

  “You are Tuannan? You, and your father?”

  Evelyne ignored Broden’s last question. “I think you should inform the governor. Go and tell Harruld, and then come to the cathedral tonight. This place is sullied now, and no longer safe.”

  *

  Kalfinar stirred. His throat was dry and his limbs felt heavy. Yet, for the first time in weeks, his head did not hurt and his mind felt clear. He opened his eyes, but the world around him was clouded, full of hazy shapes and shades. He closed them and tried to focus on his other senses. Dim voices edged around in the darkness. Kalfinar concentrated his efforts on them. As they grew clearer, he recognized the physician’s voice.

  “It happened much quicker than we thought. One of them found him and was searching deeper. I fear it almost had him fully. We must be quick to—”

  “Enough. He stirs.”

  The sounds of shuffling feet approached Kalfinar as he opened his eyes and sought focus. Nothing but clouds and colours still. “Why can’t I see?” His voice was hoarse, and the words scratched at his throat. A hand cradled his head and tilted a cup of water to his dry lips.

  “Your sight will return in but moments.” The clouded figure standing before him came into focus as her soft, accented voice spoke. Form appeared in a flash and was lost again. He saw remarkable eyes, and was asleep once more.

  *

  There were no dreams of dread and hate. Instead, Kalfinar dreamed of his wife and their child. Their daughter was unnamed in her short life, and unnamed still in his dreams. His heart ached with joy. It ached with regret. A life unnamed, and unknown. All he knew was the face was constructed by his own heart’s imaginings, and there was no point in naming a fantasy. He cursed Dajda, the one who stole them from him, and dreamt of the happiness he had once felt. No, his dreams were not filled with dread or hate, but they were cruel nonetheless.

  Kalfinar awoke.

  His eyes opened, focusing on a woman standing before him. She had ice-blue eyes and a pale face. She smiled, though it was clear it was forced. Her brown hair was pinned to the sides and flowed down the back of her head. She wore a simple green gown, bordered with delicate patterns, with an undyed cotton apron tied down her front.

  “Hello, Kalfinar,” the woman spoke. “My name is Evelyne. I am Sarbien’s daughter.”

  “I remember,” he lied. “Hello,” his voice croaked.

  “You must drink more, here.” She handed him a wooden cup of water. “I’ll fetch my father.” She left the room, shutting the door behind her.

  Kalfinar levered himself onto his elbows and looked around him. He was in a small room with one window. It was dark outside. In moments, a shuffling sound came to the door and Sarbien entered. The old man’s face cracked from its morose appearance into a wide smile.

  “Glad you’re awake, lad. How do you feel?”

  “Weak, but my head feels as though it was washed clear. What happened?”

  Sarbien did not answer.

  Evelyne entered and provided extra pillows to keep Kalfinar propped up. As she lent in to place them behind him, he noted she smelled of garden herbs. He shook the thought from his head and focussed his attention on Sarbien.

  “Never mind that for now. We must make for the cathedral soon. We have some friends waiting there, and we have much to discuss this night. Do you feel fit to make the journey?”

  “I think I can ride.” Kalfinar swung his legs out of the bed and stood, swaying like a drunk as he tried to pull on his boots.

  “Sit, I’ll help you.” Evelyne bent
to her knees, helping to slip on Kalfinar’s boots. He neither looked at her, nor did he offer thanks.

  They made their way to the rear courtyard of Sarbien’s house. Three horses were saddled and waiting, as were several darkly clad men. Men who held themselves like those who knew the weight of a blade.

  Sarbien glanced towards Kalfinar as they sat on their mounts, awaiting departure. “Worry not, these men are friends.” Sarbien looked to the surrounding men. “You want answers, well, you’ll find them tonight. Though you may wish it were otherwise.” His tone was ominous, and Kalfinar’s skin began to prickle.

  *

  They had been riding for twenty minutes, cautiously negotiating the lamp-lit streets of Carte. Kalfinar measured the shadowy figures who accompanied them. Their eyes were alert, searching shadows and flickering light for the slightest movement.

  Kalfinar’s guts felt heavy, a sure sign he was in the midst of trouble. He regarded Sarbien and his taller daughter. The words the old man spoke when Kalfinar regained consciousness troubled him. What had found him, and why was someone, or something, searching for him? The weight in his stomach began to burn.

  It was a familiar sensation, a warning.

  Kalfinar’s mouth dried. Movement flashed to his right; something running along the rooftops and leaping from building to building.

  “Rooftops!” Kalfinar roared.

  Another movement drew his eye to an open window.

  “Ambush!”

  “Go!” one of the armed escorts shouted. As he cried out, there was a sudden snap of cord.

  The sound of a bolt meeting a shield rang out behind Kalfinar.

  Evelyne kicked at her horse and rode alongside Kalfinar, her chest flat along the shoulders of her mount.

  Kalfinar risked a glance behind to see the guardsman whose shield caught the crossbow bolt falling stiff from his horse. He glanced at the rooftops, but the figure had disappeared.