by Amy Miles
Brushing the drying flecks of blood from my long, black hair, I pushed the matted strands back out of my face. The stubble grown along my chin would become a beard soon if I didn’t tend to my own needs. There had been little time over the past three days of near constant barrages to eat, let alone shave.
Not long before dawn, I heard hoof beats and turned to see a rider approaching from the south. The man was barely able to remain seated on the horse. His weariness slumped him over his steed, no doubt ordered to ride straight through. That did not bode well for the state of his journey.
“Cashel!” I called loud enough to be heard from the rooms below. “Open the gates and see to that rider’s needs immediately. Then bring me news from my father!”
Only King Baylor dispatched riders from Eimear. A dark foreboding hung around me. I turned back to face Hollow Earth as the groan of the chains that held the door closed echoed around me. I had expected no less than fifty battle-ready men a week ago. Instead, I got a letter. What use was a piece of paper to me when the Wall was ready to fall?
As the first drops of colour took to the sky, I waited to accept the letter that Cashel held. It was stamped with Baylor’s crimson wax seal, set apart from my own with a crown atop the insignia.
“Did the rider say anything to you?”
Cashel shook his head, winded from his fast climb from the base of the Wall.
“Nothin’. He was weak and in need of food and drink. I stowed him in the room besides your own, in case ya need to speak with ’im.”
I gritted my teeth and clutched the letter. Every part of me wanted to tear it open and read its contents right then and there, but my men’s welfare came first. Whatever my father had to say would not make my current situation any better today.
“Any news from Reilly on the status of the northern wall?” I asked.
“No, Prince Aed. We haven’t heard a thing.”
I glanced once more at the northern gatehouse. There were no signs of smoke in that direction, which meant something had happened to prevent those men from lighting their signal flares. Fear began to replace my concern.
“Send another man immediately, but tell him to approach with caution. I fear the worst.”
“Aye. The sun is coming. You need to rest.”
Cashel was a good and loyal soldier. One who I had called a friend for several years now. I knew that his concern, though touching, was not based solely on my personal health and safety. I was their leader and if I were to fall, so would the last line of defense.
Clapping the man on his shoulder, I nodded. “There will be little rest for me once I read whatever it is that my father has sent, I fear. The king isn’t one for sending praise. I will remain within yelling distance should you need me.”
With the king’s letter clutched tightly in hand, I descended one floor to my chambers. It was the only place I’d be free to tear into the letter. Before I did, I felt honour-bound to look in on the wounded in the healing room down the hall.
The floor there was slick with blood belonging to my brave soldiers. There were no Healers on the Wall for these men. They tended to each other’s wounds as best as they could.
“You have all fought with honour,” I called out.
Several heads rose to look at me. Others attempted to stand as a show of respect, but I motioned for them to remain where they were.
“Another night has come and gone and yet we still live,” I said, trying to comfort them. “The gods look down on us with favor. Rest now. The Wall remains secure for another dawn.”
The strained cheer that rose from my men tore at my heart. None of them volunteered for this post. Most abandoned their homes and families by royal decree, bound by their oaths when they became reapers. Though they didn’t come of free will, each man knew that without their sacrifice their loved ones would fall if they failed.
Feeling my own exhaustion weighing on me, I moved down the hall. I braced myself with one hand on the cold stone as I headed for my chambers.
When I first arrived years ago, I insisted I take the room nearest to the tower. What good would I be to my men if I buried myself deep in the heart of this stone monstrosity?
The door to my room creaked when I pushed it open. Inside held a chill that only stone mined from my homeland could provide against the blistering heat of Hollow Earth.
Lighting a candle, I carried it to my bedside table and sank down onto the soft goose feather mattress. I released a low moan as I felt the aches and pains from the previous night. Easing out of the layers of my armor, I lay across my bed, too bone-weary to care that I was soiling the sheets. Sleep called to me, but rest would have to wait.
Under the light of the candle, I broke the wax seal and unrolled the thick parchment.
My son,
Much has happened since you departed for the Wall. Rumours of your many conquests have reached me. You have proven to be a man of honour, bravery, and skill in battle. But there is more to being a king than being a good soldier. A king must sacrifice for his people in all ways.
I rubbed at my eyes as I tried to push down my annoyance. My father always did have a way with twisting compliments into veiled criticism.
As you know, this war has taxed our sources greatly. We need more weapons, more men, and more medicines. And your family needs you to ensure that our reign continues. If you wish to serve your people as their future king and keep them safe, then you will return home at my bidding. An advantageous marriage to a daughter of one of our realm’s Lords will solidify our claim on the throne, as well as supply your needs for this ongoing war.
My anger drove back all thoughts of sleep as I surged to my feet and began to pace. The parchment shook as I read further.
As a soldier, I understand that leaving your post before the mission is complete is a difficult thing, but I am not asking, Aed.
“Who the bloody hell does he think he is, trying to command me like that? I’m not some commoner he can snap his fingers and expect them to leap to attention. I am Prince of the Hallowed Realms and commander of this fort. How can he expect me to marry some woman when my men lie dying at my feet?”
My hands shook as I forced myself to continue.
I am your king, and you will obey me in this. Failure to do so will come with grave consequences. The men you have requested for the Wall will not march until I receive word that you are in agreement with my terms.
You have one day to decide. After that, I will come for you myself and drag you home.
Baylor, High King of the Realms.
I grabbed my dagger and hurled it across the room. It sank into the wooden door with an appealing thud, but it was not satisfying enough.
“He can’t ask this of me now, not when our hold on the Wall is so precarious.”
Grabbing a chair, I slammed it overhead into the solid wood bed frame. The resounding crack of splintering wood was good, but I needed to break something else. Throwing the door open to seek Cashel’s counsel, I stopped short when I found the rider waiting on the other side of my door.
“Yes?” I snapped.
“I would ’ave knocked sooner, but I saw your dagger in the door and thought ya might be needing a moment.”
“And what if that dagger was a sign that I had been ambushed and by your lingering outside my room, I was bested?”
The man blanched. “Rumour has it that no man could best ya, sire.”
I huffed as I yanked my blade free and pushed past the man. “False sentiments anger me on a good day and as you can tell, this is not one. Speak your business and leave.”
The messenger’s royal clothes were still dusty from the road. The fact that he had yet to change or seek a bed after his journey told me that my father had no intention of giving me a full day to think about my options. I should have known.
“You can tell my father that my place is here at the Wall,” I called over my shoulder. The man was bound to follow me until he had an answer.
“Aye. The king tho
ught you might say that.”
I stopped and turned back. The man stood only a few feet behind but looked to be eager to keep his distance just in case I decided to hurtle my dagger at a new target.
“Your king insists.”
“Let him insist then! Hell, let him drag himself out of his bloody castle and come see what a state his defenses are in. Perhaps then he will set aside this craziness and see that I am right to refuse him.”
The rider fidgeted with the ruffle around his neck. “So that’s your answer, then?”
“Yes.”
I turned and began to mount the stairs but stopped just before reaching the top step.
“Tell him I refuse to leave my post because we are barely maintaining our hold. Tell him that without me the Wall will fall. And tell him that if he forces my hand, those deaths will be on his head, not mine. I am not a child he can order around at his whim.”
“Prince Aed!”
I swung around at the call and flew up the last step and out onto the ramparts. The smoke was thinner now and the sun shone bright against the blood-smeared stones that formed the Wall.
“What, news from the North?” I asked.
Cashel panted, doubled over as he struggled to catch his breath. I rushed forward with a ladleful of water and waited impatiently for the man to collect himself.
“Lost.” Cashel gasped. “Donal and Pearse...dead. Their men are gone. Reilly was too late. A group of Lorcan has breached the Wall.”
“Gods help us all.” I rushed to the far side and peered out into the rising mists.
There lay several smaller villages between the Wall and Eimear. Those would be where the Lorcan would head first. The scent of those living there was too strong a pull to resist for the hungry monsters.
“Your order?” Cashel raised himself to attention.
He looked dead on his feet, just like I was. What little strength gained through the long night’s calm was not nearly enough for the battle ahead.
I turned and motioned for the rider to approach. “You swear that my father will send reinforcements if I agree?”
The man nodded. “They wait on his command.”
Gritting my teeth, I sheathed my blade and began tugging my gauntlets back into place.
“It looks like my father will get his way after all.” I glared at the messenger. “Ride like you have a Lorcan chasing at your back because you will if you delay. Tell my father I am in agreement. He must send those men immediately to seal the breach.”
I turned away from the rider, dismissing him and then clapped Cashel on the back. “Assemble the men. Grab weapons and supplies. The journey will be hard and fast. Only grab those who can manage the pace. All others must come to their posts and hold this line until the reinforcements arrive. We leave in an hour.”
He looked between me and the messenger, who hurried into the depths of the Wall. “What did the king ask ya for now?”
“Nothing good, my old friend.” I shoved two more blades into the sheaths hung across my back. “You know my father. He never requests anything. He only demands.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
TARYN
A HAND WAVED IN front of my face. “Hello? Earth to Taryn?”
I blinked, jolted back from my daydream. Quickly making sure that my hood was still covering my face, I glanced around to see if I had been noticed. My best friend, Tris, had just caught me thinking about that new reaper again.
He’d been in my thoughts for days. That gnawing ache of frustration had worked me into a frenzy. I had to find him. I had to know the truth. Was he really a part of the king’s plot to see me dead?
My search to find him came up short as I walked through town this morning. There was no sign of his red hair or vivid green eyes amongst a palette of browns, blacks, and blonds. His colouring could indicate that he was from another province. Maybe one of the River Lands.
“You alright over there?” Tris’ look of concern forced my wandering thoughts to focus.
As much as I loved her, I was not going to chat about my theories with her. She had an insatiable need to romanticize everything. I’d bet she could even find a way to make the coming Lorcan war seem dreamy. I couldn’t stomach that.
“Aye. Just a wee bit tired, is all.” I rubbed my forehead and saw the look she gave me.
“You are bloody well not ‘fine.’ You’re doing this whole creepy, sleeping-while-sitting-up thing,” she chided. “Your ma warned me this might happen. Said your brain was all wonky still.” Tris swayed on the seat beside me as the boat dipped to the side. More banshees and reapers had arrived to board the ferry.
“I’m not mental, Tris.” I laughed. “Ma was just overreacting again.”
We shifted closer to the edge to make room for the new arrivals. It was my first day back to work after the attack and I’d be lying if I said I felt ready to be there. It all just felt so pointless considering at any moment the Wall could be breached and we’d be up a creek with a broken paddle.
“Ya don’t look so well, Taryn. If ya asked nicely, Eivin could get ya another week off duty.”
“No.” I drew the hood of my cloak farther over my head. “I need to get back to work. Give me something to focus on.”
Tris gave me a sympathetic look. “It must have been scary.”
“Aye,” I admitted. “And right painful too. I’m fine, though.”
“You keep saying so, but that don’t make it true.”
I didn’t like it when Tris spoke like my ma. Probably a bad influence that rubbed off on her during the numerous hours she’d spent at my home as of late. I knew she meant well, but every time we were together, it became glaringly obvious just how far apart we had grown. I loved her, but she wasn’t like me.
Hell, no one was.
I turned away from her to hide my sweeping gaze over the people lined up to board the boat. None of them had the green eyes I was looking for. The reaper wasn’t on this ferry.
My shoulders slumped and I clasped my hands in my lap. I was ready for the day to be over before it even had a chance to begin. Just as the boat rocked and we pushed off from shore, I caught the eye of a nosy girl in the row ahead. The instant our eyes connected, she gasped and looked forward again.
I sighed.
“Did Ma ask ya to keep an eye on me?”
Though I’d been freed to return to work, my parents still fretted over my health. I’d been poked and prodded enough to last me a lifetime. I might have hated being a banshee, but it sure as hell was better than sticking around my house.
“She don’t mean nothin’ by it, Taryn. She wants what’s best for you.”
I laughed. “You mean for her. She’s been trying to shove me out the door and into any guy’s arms who would take me.”
“Well, ya are of age now.” Tris grinned and leaned in closer. “If you ask me, all these rumours may have actually given you a leg up in that respect.”
“How do ya figure that?”
“Well”—Tris tugged at the sleeves of her cloak—“you’re famous now, right? Some of it might not be overly kind, but your name is getting around. People take notice, don’t they? I bet some swanky bloke would love to have you for his own.”
“Right. ’Cause that’s my life’s ambition. You know I’m a terrible cook. Could ya really see me as a ma?”
Tris snorted. “Perhaps not. I’m just saying that it’s an opportunity. Negative attention is still attention.”
I stared out at the spectral mist hovering over the brackish water and struggled to shove down my frustration. The boat’s passage was silent as we left the shores of Netherworld. No ripples disturbed the water’s surface as the wooden longboat glided across the murky depths of the Durrow River.
As a child, I once asked my father how the veil between our realm and the human world worked. Travel to any country in mere minutes was difficult for me to grasp until I stepped foot onto this boat for the first time. Enchanted scrolling symbols carved into the sides of the boat gl
owed as whispers rose around us. Though the ferryman, Darragh, wove an ancient magic over the ship, I think the glow was just an illusion.
The mists rose up around us, concealing land from sight. The ferryman at the helm was blind, but he didn’t need eyes to see the path through the vast cavern before us. Two gaping black holes remained where Darragh’s eyes once resided. Rumours said he offended the king in his youth. Besting him in a challenge, Darragh’s victory called the king’s honour into question. The next day the man emerged without his eyes. I once thought that to be a ridiculous accusation. Now I knew firsthand how cruel the king could be to those who threatened him.
Darragh’s horrid appearance didn’t end with the plucking of his eyes. His mouth was translucent and fused shut with wax. His lanky frame was draped in a thick cloak of drab gray. Bony fingers gripped the aged wooden rudder, guiding us down a path he had travelled countless times before. The magic did the steering. He was merely a vessel, banished to servitude for all time.
I hugged myself and waited for the familiar fear to rise up within, clenching my throat till the point I was sure I’d pass out. A panic attack was what humans labeled them as. Weakness was what I called it, especially after my attack. I had to remain on alert. I had to stay focused and not let something stupid like fear get to me, but I hated every damn veil crossing I made. It just felt…unnatural.
As we approached the veil, the panic didn’t come and I smiled. My will was getting stronger. I could feel it.
“Here we go again.” Tris gripped the edge of the boat as it rocked, hitting the first of the rapids. We were passing through the veil.
I craned my neck back to watch the sharp descent of the waterfall ahead then closed my eyes. I hated the drop most. My body braced and my stomach clenched at the tugging sensation around my abdomen. It was followed immediately by an intense pressure in my head. Like I was being squeezed through a hole too small to fit, only to pop out on the other side, whole and unharmed.
“I’m sorry I didn’t see you when you came to visit,” I whispered, needing a distraction from the nausea that lingered from the rocking boat. I missed dry land.