by M. Walsh
The Goblin Chief didn’t finish. Krutch took his pistol and cracked him across the jaw. He turned over, and with a desperate lunge, fell into the canal. He let the running water take him away, only concerned with keeping his head from going under. He drifted off with the anguished howl of enraged Goblins behind him.
The canal sank deeper below ground and picked up speed before turning into a waterfall out of Seba. Caught by surprise, Krutch screamed the entire way down and the following minutes were a blur of falling, tumbling, water, and almost drowning.
The world went to black for a few moments before regaining consciousness as Audra and Arkady pulled him from the river.
“You okay, boss?” Arkady asked. “Still with us..?”
Krutch, disoriented and dizzy, crumbled to the ground and tried to catch his breath. He looked over and saw the waterfall he fell down, with Seba’s walls surrounding it. The river continued west into the Spade Sea, and he realized they were just outside Frank.
Audra plopped down beside him and sighed.
“I think that went well.”
* * *
It was still dark when Katrina limped into her rented room. After locking the door behind her, she dropped her bloody sabre on the floor and collapsed onto the bed, paying no mind to the stains she would leave on the sheets. She stared at the ceiling and debated whether to tend her wounds or just pass out.
Pretty sure I won’t bleed to death, she thought. Pretty sure.
She didn’t remember the last time she had a night like this—bruised, sore, and bleeding after fighting a war. After Serk sicced the Goblins on her, Katrina was forced to fight her way out of Building 237 and escape the Tombs on foot. That in itself was a challenge, but following her fight with the Eldér, her escape was an ordeal.
She had handled the first wave without much trouble. She fought them onto the bridge connecting 237 to the building across the street. The close quarters kept them in front and allowed her to control the pace. It was the second wave that proved a challenge.
She sat up, pain in her ribs flaring thanks to the Goblin armed with the club. She walked into the washroom and caught a look at herself in the mirror. The left side of her face was discolored to purple. A nasty gash marked her forehead. Her neck was red and scabbed due to the Goblin that tried to strangle her with a chain. Her hands were drenched in blood. During the fighting, her sword was knocked from her hand and she was forced to improvise with a shard of glass.
“Guess I should patch myself up,” she moaned.
Her entire body was covered in cuts—some slight, others large and deep. Most were received when she tackled the one Goblin through a window. Her back had been clawed, and there was a bite mark on her thigh.
It was nearly dawn when she finished mending her wounds. She returned to the bed and lied down, content to remain there for the next few days. It was just as well, she figured. No doubt Gash would be on the lookout for her now—laying low would be in her best interest.
She was dozing when Scifer returned. He strolled in with a satchel beneath his arm, looking as though nothing was out of the ordinary. Despite her injuries, Katrina shot to her feet and barked, “Where the hell did you go?! What happened back there?!”
He seemed perplexed by her anger. “What do you mean?”
“What do I..?!” she said. “You disappeared in the Tombs! I was almost killed!”
“You do look worse for wear,” he said. “I take it your attempt on Gash did not go smoothly.”
“No, it did not,” she said through gritted teeth. “Did you start that fire?”
“No.”
“Are you lying to me?”
“No.”
“Then what happened to you?”
“I snuck into Building 237,” he said, taking a seat. “I did some snooping. I watched Clock and Gash talk.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Business, questions about Gain, what’s Krutch Leeroy up to … blah-blah-blah. Nothing interesting.”
She noticed the satchel and asked, “What’s that?”
“Something that might come in handy later.”
Cringing from her wounds and aching body, Katrina sat down on her bed. “What about the fire?”
“I’m not sure who started that. I think Krutch Leeroy might’ve been there. What happened to you? If anything, I would’ve figured the fire would make your job easier.”
“I snuck into 237,” she said. “When the fire started, I made a move for Gash, but his Eldér bodyguard delayed me. I ended up fighting a couple dozen Goblins.”
“Why did you follow me?”
“In case you needed my help. If you were caught, I thought …”
She trailed off upon seeing the look of confusion on Scifer’s face. He stared at her as though she’d just said the stupidest thing he ever heard.
“Why would you care what happened to me?” he asked.
Katrina hesitated. It wasn’t the question so much as the tone. It wasn’t accusatory. He wasn’t asking out of pride or outrage. He seemed genuinely baffled she would risk herself for his sake.
“I couldn’t just leave you,” she said.
“Why?”
“I … you saved my life.”
He somehow managed to look even more confused, as if she was speaking a foreign language he couldn’t comprehend. He tilted his head like he was trying to solve some complex puzzle.
She stared back, equally confused by his questions. Why was this so strange to him? Did he really expect her to abandon him?
Finally, he shook his head and said, “You are a peculiar person.”
With a sigh, he adjourned to the washroom to clean up. Katrina lied back down, trying to make sense of it. For a moment there, she was getting close to almost trusting Scifer Olc—but this completely threw her. She didn’t understand his abrupt decision to go sneaking around the Tombs, and his utter confusion she might be concerned for him was even stranger.
Was the idea someone could care about his life so foreign to him? Or was he surprised it was her who cared about him? Either way, it came back to another question he’d yet to adequately answer: why was he helping her? What was he getting out of it?
She supposed if she took anything from the Tombs disaster, it was she still didn’t know Scifer Olc at all.
34
Lock wasn’t sure how much time had passed since the fight ended. It might’ve been a few minutes—maybe an hour. Seria bandaged her head and set about relighting the candles and fireplace. Once that was done, she brought out a bottle of liquor and poured shots for herself, Lock, and even Cassie.
“I think we can all use this after tonight,” she said.
Cassie didn’t touch hers and wouldn’t sit down. She paced around the den, looking like she was about to burst out of her skin. Lock wasn’t sure if she was still reeling from the attack, worried another was coming, or concerned about Deck and Troa. Maybe all three?
He sat on the sofa, feeling like his life had been drained from his body. He replayed that final confrontation with Yu and imagined all the ways it could’ve gone wrong. He kept picturing the sword missing and Cassie’s neck breaking. He saw the mage doing the same to Seria and just leaving their bodies for him to bask in his failure.
Several minutes passed before he noticed his hand was trembling. He welcomed the shot of liquor Seria poured. After gulping it down, he refilled the glass and gulped that down, too.
Neither Deck, nor Troa were back yet when Cassie burst. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on or not?”
Lock glanced at Seria, and she shared the same weary look. They had hoped they could get through this without Cassie needing to know, but that hope was long gone—shattered along with the front door and several windows.
“Cassie …”
“We were attacked, Lock!” she barked with a fire in her eyes he’d never seen before. “Our home was attacked by sorcerers! That’s not exactly normal, you know!”
Lock was tempted to say, I told you so, regardin
g his sister’s language, but resisted.
“I deserve to know what’s going on!”
He glanced at Seria again and was about to speak, when Deck and Troa returned home. Upon seeing his sister, Troa—who looked like he’d been fighting a tiger in a patch of thorns—hugged her tight. They exchanged words in their native language Lock didn’t understand, though judging from the tone, he guessed they were making sure the other was okay.
Deck drifted into the den like a ghost—looking older and drained. He said nothing and had a strange look of disbelief on his face that made Lock want to yell at him. It reminded him of his brother’s dismissive attitude toward the Sheriff. It was the look of a man who never for one second thought this could happen.
He wondered what his brother was thinking. Regret he brought that evil thing into their lives..? Or was he wishing he wasn’t bound by this family? How much easier would it be for him to be the hero he wanted to be without his younger brother and sister to consider?
Lock told himself Deck would never think that. But a part of him wondered if it might not be so far from the truth.
“I assume,” Troa said. “You encountered the same trouble we did.”
“If by trouble,” Lock replied. “You mean evil wizards attacked the house, then yes. We did.”
“What is going on?!” Cassie shrieked. “Tell me!”
Lock did most of the talking. As he told the story, Seria mended Troa’s wounds. Deck sat in the corner, staring at the floor with that vacant expression. Cassie listened, her face a blank mask. The only thing to suggest what she was thinking was the line that formed between her eyebrows.
When he was finished, Cassie stared into the fire for what felt like a long time. Without saying a word, she got up and walked to Deck. She stood in front of her brother, her face still and blank. He didn’t meet her gaze.
Lock didn’t need to see her grimace in rage to know what was coming. She only managed one slap across Deck’s face before he pulled her back.
“NO!” she roared. “I hate him! Let me go! I HATE HIM!”
“Cassie,” Lock said, restraining her. “This isn’t helping!”
Seria assisted, and they got her to the other end of the room. Deck still hadn’t reacted. He remained in place, staring at the floor with a pink handprint on his cheek. In the span of less than a fortnight, Lock noted with some pity, Deck had been struck by both his siblings.
“Leave him!” Cassie screamed. “He wants to abandon us and get himself killed, then let him!”
“Cassandra,” Troa said. “You know you don’t mean that.”
“Yes I do! Let’s just go! All of us! Let him stay if he wants! Let him ride off and be the hero he thinks he is!”
As she shouted, Cassie’s voice wavered. By the end, tears were pouring from her eyes. Lock told Seria to let her go, and the two of them hugged. Cassie pressed her head against his chest and wept. Once again, he was reminded how small his sister was.
He glanced at Deck and almost wanted to turn away. Although Deck kept his face straight, Lock could see the devastation in his eyes. The scene struck him then as so typical of their family. He and Cassie were closer in age and shared the Synclaire look of white hair, soft features, and blue eyes. Deck favored their mother, with dark hair, tanned skin, and piercing eyes.
It was as it always seemed to be—Lock and Cassie together, and Deck at a distance.
“Listen,” said Lock. “No one’s abandoning anybody. We’re family and we’re in this together.”
As he said this, he looked Deck and then Cassie in the eye. He moved his gaze to include Troa and Seria. They nodded in unity—they were family as much as his siblings.
“Okay,” he said. “First, who attacked us tonight?”
“If I had to guess,” Troa said. “I’d assume they were disciples of Roderick Bane. I believe the more important question is: are there more?”
He held Cassie close and asked Troa, “So what do we do about this?”
Concern came to the Eldér’s face—something Lock wasn’t used to—and he said, “Lockhart, I admire and agree with your sentiment we should stick together, but we’re beyond mere mercenaries and bounty hunters. I think for the moment we should consider Cassandra’s safety.”
“So, what..?” Cassie said, turning to him. “What does that mean?”
“I think it would be safer if you got away from this house,” said Troa. “At least until we have the Gauntlet situation cleared.”
“What about the rest of you?”
“We should remain here.”
“No!” she snapped. “If I’m going, you’re coming with me! We all go together!” She turned to Lock, and her eyes were a mix of pleading and demanding. “You just said we stick together!”
Lock couldn’t help but feel hypocritical, but he agreed with Troa. If nothing else, Cassie needed to be put someplace safe. Trying to avoid her gaze, he said, “We can’t send her off alone. Someone needs to go with her.”
Her eyes flared up in anger. “You then! Lock, you come with me!”
“I could take her,” said Seria. “We can head west and—”
“NO!” Cassie screamed. “Lock’s going to take me—”
“I’d rather you stay with Deckard and Lockhart,” said Troa, ignoring Cassie’s shouting. “I’ll take Cassandra. I’ll make sure we aren’t followed and defend her if need be.”
“Lock, listen to me!” she pleaded. “Come with me! You shouldn’t be here! This isn’t your fight! Please, Lock!”
He felt tense and uncomfortable. He wouldn’t look at his sister’s desperate face. He tried to focus on Troa and Seria, but his stomach was tumbling. He hated this, and he hated what needed to be done.
“When can you take her?”
Cassie made a noise between a howl and a squeal. Tears poured from her eyes, and her voice broke. Without saying any more, she fled the den.
Lock listened to the door slam and imagined her throwing herself onto her bed and crying. He felt flushed and hot. He shut his eyes, and his head pounded. Not long ago, life had been so simple. Training with a sword was just a hobby, and his biggest concern was what he would do with himself in Graylands.
And here he was, with a role and responsibility thrust upon him—the unwilling defender of an evil artifact that dark forces sought to gain. He’d already killed three people in battle, and there was a good chance more would come. Now he was sending his sister into uncertainty while he remained in far graver uncertainty.
He took a breath and opened his eyes to see Troa and Seria waiting for when he was ready. “So,” he said. “When can you leave?”
“As soon as possible would be best,” said Troa. “We could leave tonight, but given Cassandra’s current state …”
“The sooner you leave, the better,” said Deck, still sitting in the corner.
Hearing his brother chime in, Lock had to resist the urge to tackle him and strangle him. Gritting his teeth and feeling a pulse in his temple, he said, “Tomorrow. Give her time and break it to her gently.”
“Agreed,” said Troa.
“I’ll talk to her,” said Seria. “Hopefully, she’ll …”
She trailed off, unable to think of a way to finish her thought. Lock had nothing to contribute either. He sat down in a chair by the fire and tried to relax. Now he understood why Deck seemed so much older and drained earlier.
He felt older now, too.
35
After her confrontation with Shade and having no interest staying cooped up in Dust’s caravan, Lily headed into Madoc. Before she left, she noticed Shade had closed her stand and would receive no more visitors. Lily took some satisfaction imagining her stewing in her trailer all day.
Madoc was a small village with a Main Street consisting of shops, an inn, a Pilgrim’s Stop, and numerous cottages of varying size around it. The late afternoon sun gave the town a golden hue which made the mountains in the distance appear even more majestic against the steel-blue sky. The people
seemed friendly enough, and more than a few offered pleasant smiles as she passed—though she guessed that had more to do with her succubus nature than anything else.
Touring the village, Lily considered it would be an ideal place to settle down—if such a thing was possible for her. The look of horror on James’s face when he saw what she really was still haunted her.
At the center of town was a large stone water-well where she found a familiar looking boy. He sat on the wooden bench built around the well, his elbows propped against his knees and feet kicking in boredom.
“Rough day?” she asked.
The boy’s eyes widened upon seeing her, and he blushed.
“I remember you,” she said. “I saw you at the carnival earlier.”
He turned redder and mumbled something indistinct. He cleared his throat and said, “I mean my name is Jimmy. Jimmy Wallace.”
“Hello, Jimmy,” she said, sitting beside him. She looked around and asked, “Are you here by yourself?”
“I, uh,” he stammered. “My dad … he—um—he’s in the Town Hall right now. Told me to wait out here.” He adjusted himself in his seat and scratched his hair. “My dad is ‘Big’ Jim Wallace.”
He looked at her, as if expecting her to react to that. Having no idea who “Big” Jim Wallace was, she replied, “Okay.”
“He, um, he’s running for Magistrate next year.”
Lily nodded and smiled. She recalled the handsome man she saw at the carnival shaking everyone’s hands and understood that was Jimmy’s father.
“He makes you sit out here by yourself?” she asked
He nodded and mumbled under his breath, “My dad doesn’t care what I do.” Before she could say anything, he asked, “What’s your name?”
“Lily.”
“Like the flower?”
“I guess so.”
He smiled. “It’s pretty.”
She smiled back, but felt sad. Yes, she had a pretty name and a pretty face to go with it. Hadn’t James and Krutch and so many others been taken by it? If only it wasn’t a lie—glamour used as a disguise and lure.