by D. M. Murray
“Lay her here, on the table,” Evelyne instructed as they entered the room with the girl. “We must be fast. She will not be safe until we turn her. We have to awaken her now.”
“What do we do?” Kalfinar asked as they laid the child onto the small table.
“Everything I tell you to, without question, without hesitation. Do you understand?”
They nodded.
“Chentuck, hold her legs down. Broden, you take her arms. Be firm, and don’t worry about hurting the child.”
The small girl groaned and blinked.
“Hurry! She is coming out of the reverie,” Evelyne barked.
Footsteps could be heard bursting into the inn, causing all to look towards the door.
“Broden, lock the door,” Evelyne commanded.
He quickly saw to it as footsteps and shouting could be heard down the stairs.
Evelyne tore open the small girl’s ragged dress from neck to her belly. “Kalfinar, take this blade and make a hand-width incision here, just above the heart.” She handed Kalfinar a long, sharp silver blade. His face reflected a troubled look. “Broden, take this clamp and insert it between the ribs once Kalfinar has made the incision.”
As the shouting grew louder, the little girl stirred once more, her eyes flickering open. Footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs now. They flashed looks to each other.
“Draw your weapons,” Kalfinar said.
“No!” Evelyne barked. “There is no time, we must see this through now! Make the cut!”
Kalfinar looked at the little girl’s eyes as they flickered open and closed. He hesitated as a nearby door was kicked open.
“Here, give it to me.” Broden grabbed the blade of his cousin, placing the clamp in his hands. He placed the blade tip on the little girl’s chest, causing her eyes to flash open, an emerald explosion. She unleashed an almighty scream as she stared at the alien being holding her legs down and the strangers around her.
“Do it, Broden!” Evelyne shouted. “Do it now!”
The door to the room crashed open in a shower of wooden splinters and a half-dozen blue liveried city guards poured into the room, their swords drawn. The blade sliced deeply. The little girl screamed as the city guards stormed forward.
Chentuck released the girl’s legs and, in an instant, had his twin swords free. He parried the guard’s blows with a speed and savagery that forced the guards backwards.
“Don’t kill anyone!” Kalfinar shouted as the Ravenmayne engaged the guardsmen.
The little girl’s scream subsided as she passed out. Broden finished the incision.
“Clamp it, Kalfinar,” Evelyne ordered.
Kalfinar clamped the incision, exposing the little girl’s beating heart before them, pounding its rhythm. “Help him,” Kalfinar said to Broden. The ring of steel and voices in the room was fearsome. He cast a quick glance at the melee that had unfolded.
Broden waded in to the fight, crashing the pommel of his sword behind the ear of a guardsman, sending the man crumpling face-first to the rough wooden floor. He stepped up beside Chentuck and set about driving the remaining guardsmen tight into the corner of the room.
“Hold her,” Evelyne cried over the noise. The urgency of her voice tore Kalfinar’s attention back from the fight before him. He pressed down on the small shoulders of the child and gazed into her face. I’ve seen you in my dreams, little one.
Evelyne repeated an incantation and placed her mid and forefinger onto the beating heart of the child. There was an explosion of light and force, sending all in the room backwards onto the floor and blowing the panes of glass out into the street in fragments.
Kalfinar pushed himself onto his elbows and looked towards the source of the light. He felt an instant mix of emotion, both sad and joyous at once. Tears welled in his eyes and he gasped at the brightly glowing child that floating before him. A spear of white heat radiated from her heart.
“Secure the room!” Evelyne cried out. Her words prompted a scramble for weapons.
By the time the guardsmen had gotten to their feet, it was over. Kalfinar, supported by Broden and Chentuck, had the advantage.
“Let’s just go easy, lads.” Broden grinned at the city guards who remained conscious and able-bodied. “No one needs to get hurt. Well, no one needs to get badly hurt.”
“Broden, don’t waste your words,” Kalfinar said, sheathing his sword. “Their minds are elsewhere.” He regarded the guardsmen before him. Their mouths were slack and open, their eyes brimmed with tears as they stared mesmerised by the small child of light before them.
“She is with us now. She is the first of the Horn of Dajda.” Evelyne wept as she received the child. The intense light from the girl’s heart faded as she was enveloped.
*
Kalfinar saw there was little need to concoct a believable cover story for what had just taken place. The guardsmen, now bound and sat in a corner of the room, stared at the small girl who slept soundly in Evelyne’s arms, a look of deep peace settled on her face. The explosion of terror and then light that had met them as they entered the room had given way to an air of serenity. They were captivated by the child.
“They can’t hear a word I’m saying.” Kalfinar turned from them and sat by Evelyne and the others.
“They are in awe of her grace,” Evelyne whispered as she rocked the child back and forth in her arms.
“What of her wound?” Kalfinar asked.
“It sealed the instant she was awoken by Dajda’s touch. She is safe now from most dangers on this world.” She looked up at Kalfinar and held his gaze with her ice-blue eyes. “Do not ever hesitate again when I give you an order. They are fragile in human form. We could easily have lost her.”
Her reprimand was delivered gently, but Kalfinar felt the power of the command all the same. “My lady,” he accepted her rebuke demurely.
As he spoke, the little girl’s green eyes flickered open and gazed directly at him, before she shut them and fell back asleep. Once more, Kalfinar felt his throat tighten with emotion.
“What will we do with the guardsmen?” Broden asked Evelyne.
“Leave them here. They are entranced for the meantime and when they come around, they will probably be hit with an overwhelming urge to speak to Dajda. They offer us no threat. I suggest you untie them before we leave.”
“And when will that be?” he asked again.
“I suggest we leave now. We must travel south,” she said.
“South?” Kalfinar questioned. “Across the Yellow Sea? To where? Canna?”
“Yes, I think so. We must leave tonight.”
Kalfinar nodded grimly back. “Tonight it is.” South. South to jalsinum and baking sun. If ever there’s a dark hole rotten enough for my wasted soul, it’ll be in the south. Smoke and blood, whores and mud.
*
“Let’s just lead the horses out of the city street,” Kalfinar said as they gathered in the courtyard. “No point in making ourselves too obvious.”
He led the party out of the courtyard gates and into the lamp-lit streets of Enulin. The customary hubbub from the merchants had died down and was replaced by the desperate side of the city. They hawked what wares they could, mostly cheap wine and even cheaper flesh.
“Anyone in need of comfort tonight?” a thin whore called out from the sickly light of an upstairs window across from the inn.
“Not tonight, sister,” Kalfinar said in a low, gravelly voice. His hand rested on his sword’s pommel under his cloak.
“What a beautiful child,” the whore croaked from above.
Kalfinar exchanged a look with Evelyne and carried on walking.
“I said, what a beautiful child,” the whore rasped again.
“Just ignore her,” Evelyne whispered.
The whore cackled from above. “She’s going to burn.” The whore’s head shook in a brief judder as Kalfinar looked up at her.
“What did you say?” he growled.
The whore laug
hed a ragged sound and leaned out of her window, her thin, veiny breasts nearly falling out of her threadbare dress. “You’re all going to fucking burn.” She waggled a long black tongue at them and leapt up onto the window sill in a crouch. “You’re all going to fucking burn. Take them!” the whore called out to the night and was answered by inhuman howls from the streets and alleyways around them.
“Back to the inn!” Evelyne shouted.
They turned and sped towards the inn’s gate, covering the short distance in a moment.
Kalfinar glanced behind as they began to close the gates and saw a group of around three dozen men and women sprinting towards the inn. He slammed the doors shut and locked them before turning to Evelyne. “Are they more of the possessed?”
“Yes, but the whore was different. Did you feel it?”
Kalfinar rubbed unconsciously at his amulet. “The spirit?”
“Yes. It has followed us.”
“It said the child would burn. Can she be hurt?”
“No, not in this world. But we can, and without us, the horn cannot be found.”
“We’re badly outnumbered,” Broden called over from where he tethered his horse.
“The gates are narrow. They should prevent us being overwhelmed,” Kalfinar said, drawing his sword and hatchet.
“The guardsmen will fight with us,” Evelyne replied. “Chentuck, bring them down.”
“You should go with him, and take the child,” Kalfinar said to Evelyne.
“The child will be safe enough down here. As for me, we need every blade we have. I stay where I am.”
“But-”
“Save your breath, Kal.” Evelyne drew a long, gently curved sword from beneath the skirt of her saddle. “If I fall, Dajda will find another. Just stay out of my way.”
The banging of steel against wood rang loudly throughout the courtyard. The wood splintered and brief flashes of glinting steel and teeth could be seen.
“I wish some more of the city guard would turn up,” Broden grumbled as he stood with his sword in a two-handed grip.
“We’ve got the sector patrol right here,” Kalfinar said, looking at the six stern-faced guardsmen beside them. “Others will come, but perhaps not in time. Fight hard.”
“Only fighting I know.” Broden flashed a smile at him.
“Good. Get ready. Here they come.” Kalfinar spun his hatchet in his left hand and tightened his grip on his sword with his right.
The courtyard door burst open and bodies spilled in. Steel whirled. Kalfinar parried an overhead blow with his sword and smashed his hatchet blade into the face of the possessed. A mist of blood plumed up from the wound and the body crashed to the cobbled courtyard, already slick with blood. The body kicked out twice, and then lay still.
Another possessed barged into him from the side, catching his aching shoulder and almost sending him reeling to the corpse-littered stones. As he spun to engage the possessed, the man stiffened and fumbled at the blade point that protruded from his chest. A line of blood spilled out of the man’s mouth and down his chin as his eyes tried to search behind him. The blade withdrew and the possessed dropped onto his knees and then fell sideways. A guardsman stepped from behind the corpse and nodded at Kalfinar before re-joining the fray.
Kalfinar stepped past the possessed as her fingers played at the rent in her throat, a broad wave of blood flowing from the wound in pulses. He heard the rattle of breath behind him and a thump on the ground. He stepped up to a knot of possessed as Evelyne and Broden engaged them.
Evelyne’s fighting style was more fluid than he had thought her capable of. She fought with a flurry of kicks and spins, her blade slicing in quick arcs, taking life as easy as limb.
“Help!”
Kalfinar’s attention was drawn by Chentuck’s cry from the other side of the gate. He was being hard-pressed by four possessed. The whore was amongst the attackers, swinging a vicious-looking cleaver at the Ravenmayne, who was struggling to parry the onslaught of blows from all sides.
Kalfinar threw his hatchet into the back of one of the attackers and sprinted towards Chentuck. The weapon dropped from the possessed’s limp grip, and the functioning hand searched his back for the hatchet. Kalfinar’s sword cut through the searching hand and into the gap between shoulder and neck. The wound fountained a dark spray of blood, catching Kalfinar in the face. The possessed keeled over, and Kalfinar stepped past the body and towards the whore.
She waggled her black tongue at him and screamed a high and unearthly sound, “Your wife and daughter curse you in the frozen bowels of the barren hells!”
Kalfinar froze at the offence, shock dawning on his face only to be replaced with hatred as the whore laughed a vile noise at him.
She leapt into her frenzied attack, swinging the cleaver with redoubled speed and rage. “They know your shame, Kalfinar, and they curse you for it.”
Kalfinar gave two steps back, and then a third as he struggled to parry each blow. The whore kicked, catching his knee and sending his right foot scraping on the gore-slick cobbles.
“I’m going to cut that fucking amulet from you and finish what the Master demanded. He’s going to feed on your soul, and all your fetid souls for eternity. Like he feeds on your daughter’s soul now.”
The fury burned so hot in Kalfinar that he felt for a moment he was going to pass out. He sprung from his prone position and feinted a blow to the right, his sword thrust being parried by the whore. His left hand came around in a fist and smashed into the jaw of the possessed, sending a spray of black blood and teeth out of her mouth. His left boot came up in a kick and crunched into the whore’s crotch, sending a whoop of air from her. She stumbled backwards and tripped over the corpse of a possessed, her cleaver skittering away.
The whore sprawled out on the stones as Kalfinar stood over her. “Say hello to my family for me.” He raised a boot and stamped it down on the whore’s throat, crushing it under his heel.
*
The last of the possessed was cut down by the only guardsmen remaining alive. The courtyard was littered with bodies and the gaps between the stones pooled with blood.
“Everyone else alright?” Kalfinar asked as they fell in, blood-spattered and chests panting for breath.
“Aye,” Broden grunted. “Was tight there for a time, wasn’t it?”
Evelyne wiped the blood from her face with the sleeve of her shirt. “We can expect more attacks like this. They’ll grow more desperate, and so we must be ready.”
“You fought well,” Kalfinar said. “Didn’t appreciate you had such skill.”
“Well, now you do.” She smiled at him. “Come, we must hurry. We must leave for the south. The pull is urgent.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Bloody ship,” Arrlun cursed as he stared at the wooden-beamed ceiling of the cabin.
He had not slept easily at any point of their voyage down the Valeswater towards Apula. Despite having spent many nights sleeping on his father’s trade ship as a boy, he was not used to the gentle, rhythmical motion experienced on such a river voyage. He stirred in his bunk and swung his legs over edge above where Thaskil slept. He softly landed on the cabin floor in front of Thaskil’s bunk and noted his friend’s eyes were open.
“Can’t sleep again?” Thaskil asked. He propped himself onto one elbow.
“Aye,” he grumbled a quiet reply. “Perverse as it is, the rougher the water, the better I sleep. This passage is too gentle for a rough-cut soul from the north like me.”
“A strange people, you Ultima North folk.”
“That we are.” Arrlun tucked his shirt into his trousers and tightened his belt. “Think I’ll go and give Major Bergnon some company for the last of his watch.”
“You just can’t call him Bergnon, can you?” Thaskil laughed quietly. “A formal lot too.”
“It’s a survival mechanism for us. A six month winter without manners can lead to a lot of bloodshed in the north. Get back to sleep. No point in us both hav
ing eyes like piss holes in the snow come the morning.”
As he made his way out of the cabin, he thought ahead to Apula. He was looking forward to seeing Thaskil’s home town. Though he was keen not to admit it, he had long dreamed of seeing the bloom of the famed winter poppies. He considered his own home of Gerloup in Noehmia’s Ultima North and hoped that one day he could show Thaskil the shapes created by the snow and ice, like a forest of spiralled ice towers reaching towards the magical dance of the aurora.
Arrlun moved quietly to avoid waking any of the troops asleep on the deck. “You see the major?” he asked the old sailor at the wheel.
“Think he went down to the stern, sir,” the old sailor replied in a hushed, gruff voice.
Arrlun patted the sailor on his shoulder as he moved past him toward the shadowy rear of the ship. He approached the stern and saw the form of Bergnon illuminated by the gently swaying lamp hanging above. His head was bowed as he inspected something in his hands, hidden from view.
A warning flared in Arrlun’s mind and he ceased his approach, remaining unseen, hidden in the shadows. Bergnon muttered something and shook his head as he extended his hand over the rear of the ship. As the light swung, Arrlun caught sight of what the captain held in the brief moment before he released it into the disappearing blackness of the ship’s wake. It had winked in the glare of the light. A flash of metal, and an unmistakable shape: a key.
Arrlun’s heart jumped to a quicker beat, something felt wrong. He shouldn’t be watching. As he stepped backwards, the ship beneath his feet creaked, and although it only made the slightest noise, it seemed like a jarring shriek in such a still night. His face winced and he froze where he stood, his presence masked by the shadows still. For an endless moment, Arrlun stood still, holding his breath, unsure fully of why he even hid. Bergnon had not moved, he appeared not to have noticed the creak as Arrlun backed away. He waited another moment, and finally, deciding all was well, he carefully crept away, and back to the cabin.