‘There was the temple of Zemus,’ Kairos began, but regretted bringing up the unpleasant memory when he saw Althea stiffen. He hastily added, ‘But that place doesn’t count.’
Althea turned towards him. ‘You never did tell me much about your homeland.’
Kairos swallowed. He had still not spoken to anyone about Logres ever since his conversation with Galen. He wanted to tell Althea everything about himself. About Logres. The Einar. The events at Cape Caipora and Milbrooke. His suspicions of being god-cursed. But, then again, he did not want to frighten her away.
‘You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to–’
‘I come from a land far away from here,’ said Kairos, figuring he could tell her a little without the extraordinary details. ‘The Blight came and everything began to die, so many of us – including my father, brother and I – set out to find somewhere better. We ran into Malus’s army, instead, and they killed everyone else, and now I’m alone.’ Before he could say anything more, Althea reached out and grasped his hand. Her touch made him breathless. It was agonising to be so near her at the Academy, but so distant at the same time, and now they were finally alone.
‘Do you plan to go home?’ she asked – as she recalled doing once before. She wondered if this time, he would be more forthcoming.
‘Someday. I have sworn to take revenge for my family, but first I need to become a Mana Knight. They’re the only ones fighting Malus and his army… And Captain Hargonnas.’ Memories of the elf stirred a sudden rage that Kairos tried to quell immediately. He was alone with Althea. This was not the time nor the place for anger.
‘I’m sorry,’ Althea said. ‘I did not mean to bring up bad memories.’
‘It’s okay,’ Kairos said, offering a wan smile. ‘I’m quite happy here, and after I finish everything, I would like to live here.’
That was true, he realised. He had been happier in Vadost than his entire life in Logres. He cherished being close to Althea, and working for Mr. Dubose. He enjoyed the rigorous training of the Mana Knight Academy (with the exception of Jomur’s class). The citizens of Vadost seemed cheerful and optimistic compared to the dole-faced expressions the Einar usually wore. And they weren’t always trying to kill each other, either! He was even warming up to Stella, although he figured his standing with the dwarf had not much improved since their first encounter.
The sudden thought of Stella alarmed him.
‘Shouldn’t we be returning soon?’ Kairos asked. ‘Remember last time? Stella will be looking for us, and I don’t want her hitting me with a frying pan.’
Althea also looked startled for a brief instant, but she threw her head back and laughed. When she stopped, her features took on an alluring expression.
‘Stella can wait,’ she said, and her lips parted expectantly. Oblivious to the music, the dancing, and the merrymaking around them, Kairos leant forward…
There was a flash of light in the distance.
The sounds of carousing took on a fretful air, and the change in the atmosphere drew Kairos’s attention away from Althea.
‘Look!’ a man shouted, pointing. ‘On the hill!’
A shower of red sparks spewed high into the air. Its brilliance did not dissipate, but hovered in place.
‘That’s a strange firework,’ Kairos muttered.
‘That’s not a firework,’ Althea said in a hollow voice, on the verge of panic. ‘That’s the spell that signals distress.’
Kairos did not need to ask why Althea was upset. The spell flared directly above her home. He was about to say more, but Althea was off, racing towards the manor with fear and adrenaline spurring her onward. Kairos made haste to keep up with her in the crowded streets. He was not sure what was happening, but he hoped to find the Avenal Manor in one piece.
If not, he had a premonition that their happiness would soon come to an end.
* * *
Sir Hugo did not sense danger until it was too late. There should have been nothing to fear. His mind dwelled on his parents back at home while he was stuck here on escort duty during Yule, his body languid from over-indulging in the abundant feast Stella had provided.
Therefore, he turned too slowly. He barely glimpsed the dark figure surging towards him from the front door—now wide open. He twisted, but the hammer landed a glancing blow on his head, knocking him back against the wall. He tried to pull his mana lance free of its sheath, but he was disoriented and in his panic he could not grip the weapon.
Another dark shape joined the fight, this one lunging with a sword. The blade bit into Hugo’s side, where his armour did not protect him, and the first figure delivered another stunning blow to his head. Hugo tried to cast a spell, but his vision was blurred and he wasn’t sure what was happening. His mana fizzled away as he traced an illegible glyph, and then he saw another flash of light before the blow that struck his skull, sending him crashing to the floor.
Hugo tried to rise, to alert Stella of the danger, but his body wouldn’t obey him. He felt the sharp blade plunging into him again, and soon darkness overwhelmed him.
When he came around, he thought he had dreamt the entire event, but his head throbbed and each breath brought pain. He bit his lip to avoid crying out, and lay there for some time, feeling faint. The sound of rough, grating voices slowly pervaded his awareness.
His attackers were still nearby.
Hugo tried to open his eyes, but found he could only manage one of them. No wonder the attackers had left him for dead. He probably looked horrible. With his left eye, he slowly looked around the room, making sure to lie still. He couldn’t move much anyway, because even looking around brought him a jolt of unbearable pain. He saw enough, though.
Stella was dead.
The sight of her corpse nearly made Hugo gasp aloud in horror. She had been brutally murdered, hacked to gory bits. Clearly, she did not go down without a fight.
The attackers were still in close proximity to her. To Hugo’s surprise, they were also dwarves. One of them, wearing a bandage on his head, nursed a wound on his left shoulder. Another sat against the wall, clutching his stomach and grimacing in pain. He had been stabbed. The third dwarf helped tend to the dwarf with the wounded shoulder, whom Hugo assumed was the leader.
He lay still and tried not to breathe loudly.
‘I’m telling you, Togram! She fought like a rabid beast. We should have taken her by surprise like we did the knight.’ The voice was rather high-pitched for a dwarf.
‘Yes, she was a fighter,’ the dwarf named Togram agreed. He applied a cloth to his shoulder and winced. ‘Orvid didn’t expect such ferocity. Now the whoreson might bleed out before those kids get back, and then it will be just us two against them.’
Orvid did not reply, only stared at his comrades with glassy eyes and nodded.
‘Damn it!’ said the dwarf with a high-pitched voice. ‘Let me look through the house, see if they have a healing tonic or something!’
‘Hurry it up, Jarvis,’ Togram said, ‘I’ll stay here with Orvid just in case those kids come back.’
The high-pitched dwarf known as Jarvis walked past Hugo without a glance at the knight and marched upstairs. Soon the sounds of him rummaging through the rooms reverberated throughout the manor.
Hugo tried to get up carefully. He felt dizzy at once and a jolt of pain caused a wave of blackness to overtake his vision. He was on the verge of collapsing, but if he didn’t do something, not only would he die, but so would Althea and Kairos.
He managed to get to his knees, using the wall for support. His armour creaked as the joint plates jostled. He paused in horror, sure that the dwarf near the front door had heard.
‘Keep it down up there, Jarvis!’ Togram shouted. ‘I’m sure that half of Vadost can hear you making a ruckus!’
Hugo finally managed to haul himself upright without making more noise, but the effort caused him a wave of nausea and dizziness. He leant against the wall for a few moments, trying to stifle his panting
. His head exploded in agony, and he thought, again, he was going to fall. The dizziness passed, though the nausea and pain didn’t. He had to move. One of the dwarves was bound to find him soon.
He knew that if he tried to go out the front door, the dwarf called Togram would strike him down, even with the injured shoulder. He remembered Stella going out on the veranda earlier in the evening – if he could make it there…
It took Hugo a long time to reach the veranda. His head reeled with every step, and pain shot through his torso with each breath. He shuddered at the thought of how much blood he had lost, and he felt consciousness slowly slipping away like sand running through his fingers. It would be so much easier to just sit down and rest. He thought of his family, his mother and father beaming at him with pride when he became a Mana Knight. They would be missing him by now, sad that he was away for Yule. His little sister would be expecting a gift. He missed them more than anything.
He clenched his teeth and trudged on. Thankfully, the door to the veranda was open. He staggered out, unaware of his surroundings.
His thoughts turned to his career as a Mana Knight. He wasn’t the best of the best. In fact, he had barely passed the Test. He received the easy tasks such as guard duty at Valour Keep, or mere escort duty with civilians. He shied away from the battles and the high-risk assignments. It was unfortunate that this one turned out to be the most dangerous of all.
Without realising it, he stumbled against the rail overlooking the city below. His vision clouded and the lights of the festivities dimmed in and out. He focused his remaining effort into one spell. He vaguely heard a dwarf cry in alarm from inside, which now seemed so far away. They would be looking for him. He had to hurry.
Hugo traced the glyph and a bright, red flash blinded him. He slumped to the floor. As his injuries pulled him into the darkness, he gave a fleeting smile of triumph.
He had managed to fulfil his duty.
* * *
Kairos and Althea arrived at the manor to find it partially in flames, with a crowd gathered around. Althea and Kairos, along with the City Watch and Mana Knights on duty, had to wade through the horde of onlookers to reach the home. At the sight of all the commotion, almost everyone within the vicinity who wasn’t excessively drunk had come running to stare at the home with mingled horror, concern, and curiosity.
The knights and several citizens were using water magic to douse the flames. Althea tried to rush inside the manor, but several knights stopped her.
‘I have to go in!’ she cried in a shrill voice. ‘Stella is in there!’
The leading knight, a tall and broad man, shook his head in sympathy and spoke to Althea in soothing tones. She broke into tears. The people standing nearby began to murmur, and Kairos looked to see what they were excited about. Four men carried a stretcher with a man covered in wounds. Kairos did not recognise him, but as the stretcher drew closer, he felt a weight in the pit of his stomach.
‘Sir Hugo!’ Althea cried.
‘Make way!’ one of the knights said. ‘We have to take him to a healer. He doesn’t have long to live.’
Kairos examined the injured man and knew immediately that the knight was right. How Sir Hugo was still living was a mystery. His face looked like a sodden mass of blood. It was no wonder Kairos had not recognised him immediately.
Althea rushed over to Hugo. At the sight of the terrible injuries, her already pale face became even whiter. ‘Hugo!’ she said. ‘What happened?’
‘Stand back!’ one of the knights barked.
At the sound of Althea’s voice, Hugo had stirred and lifted a feeble hand. ‘Lady Avenal and Squire Azel,’ he muttered in a voice so weak that Althea and Kairos had to lean forward to hear. ‘You’re both safe.’ He coughed, blood bubbling from his lips, and he squinted his eyes shut against the pain and panted. ‘Forgive me… I couldn’t save Stella.’
Althea sobbed and covered her face with her hands.
‘What happened?’ Kairos asked. ‘Who were they?’
‘Dwarves,’ he managed to whisper. ‘They came for you. Orvid, Jarvis, and To-Togr–’ He tried to say more, but a tremor of pain shook him.
The knight standing next to them stepped forward. ‘Get him to a healer,’ he ordered.
The bystanders bowed their heads in respect as the four men carrying the stretcher continued on.
Kairos felt numb. Was Stella truly dead? He was just beginning to get along with the dwarf. Suddenly he became very concerned for Althea. ‘We should find a way to tell your father,’ Kairos told her.
But upon turning, he found Althea was not listening. She made a rush for the manor. The knights intercepted her again and she threw herself against them, but they were stronger and held her back. Defeated, she collapsed onto the ground in front of her home, where she shook, convulsing in sobs. Kairos approached and rested his hand comfortingly on her shoulder.
Althea’s small tender hand closed tightly around his. They found comfort in each other’s touch.
One of the knights at the door urged them back.
‘She lives here,’ Kairos said. ‘Her nanny is inside.’
‘All the more reason to stand back,’ the knight began, his eyes full of sympathy for Althea. ‘She does not want to go inside and see what we’ve seen. We’re doing her a favour by keeping her out.’
‘Let me go then,’ Kairos offered. ‘I know Stella, too.’
The knight hesitated, but upon seeing Kairos’s grim and determined face, he nodded and stepped aside.
Althea peered up at Kairos with puffy eyes. He squeezed her hand reassuringly. ‘You stay here with the knights. I’ll be back.’
It did not take long for Kairos to find Stella. Once the knight escorted him through the front door, he found her – or what was left of her – lying in a gory mess near the parlour. Her murderers had mutilated her, smashing and chopping her up beyond recognition. Kairos could only identify her by her red hair.
The knight turned away. Kairos did not blame him.
He stared for a long time at what was left of Stella. With her death, his hopes of happiness fled.
He heard the knight whisper a prayer to Zemus on Stella’s behalf. He thought of the time when Gulliver had prayed to Zemus, and wondered if the god was truly dead, his spirit encased in a godshard, or if he was merely resting in the shard as some believed. Either way, Kairos didn’t think much of this god, who allowed his faithful’s enemies to murder them so easily. He preferred Rudras, who honoured the strong and scoffed at the weak. Rudras never offered false hope.
The knights searched the rest of the manor – what was left of it. They found another dead dwarf, whom Kairos had never seen. It wasn’t Togram. This dwarf had been stabbed.
The leader of the knights, who Kairos recognised as Lord Cyr, signalled to the others. ‘Take this body, along with…’ He struggled to remember the name of Althea’s nanny, ‘Stella. We will see to it that they all get a proper burial.’
‘Only Stella,’ said Kairos evenly.
‘What?’
‘Only Stella should get a proper burial.’ Kairos stared intently at the body of the dwarven male.
‘What are you saying?’ asked Lord Cyr.
‘This is one of the murderers.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because I have never seen this dwarf before,’ Kairos said, his voice taking on a lethal edge. ‘And Hugo told me that the attackers were dwarves. Their leader is Togram, and when I find him, I will kill him myself.’
* * *
The run-down house, located next to the Pinch and Tickle in the seedy part of the city, had been avoided by prospective tenants for years. Everyone knew the area attracted a shoddy variety of vagrants, drunks, and shady business men, so they looked elsewhere for real estate.
After renting the house and living in it for a day, Hargonnas soon discovered why: between his new home and the ill-reputed tavern, he found a corpse in the alley, covered in stab wounds. As time went on, his opinion of the
place only sank further. The homeless and drunks alike constantly urinated all around the house, resulting in a perpetual smell of piss. The elf occasionally found drunks sprawled out at the front door, having, gingerly, to step over them whenever he left the premises.
He eventually became used to these antics, however.
What he couldn’t get used to was the constant noise of prostitutes shrieking, moaning, and squealing through the darkest hours of the night, or the yells, fights, and crashes caused by the tavern’s patrons. The humans, especially drunken ones, disgusted him beyond rage. Whereas elves preferred peace and quiet, Hargonnas’s human neighbours enjoyed mayhem and malarkey.
Thus, the elf yearned for the day he would leave this heap of rubbish. Yet the house was cheap and offered him the ideal location to stay hidden from prying eyes. No one ever questioned his comings and goings. Everyone, except the beggars, left him alone. He could invite suspicious guests, engage in all sorts of nefarious activity, or make the most awful of noises, and it all paled in comparison to what the Pinch and Tickle offered on a daily basis.
Therefore, no one bothered wasting a second look when two dwarves came to visit, or when an elf answered the door and invited them in, or the ensuing shouts that came from the house.
‘Imbeciles!’ Hargonnas shouted indignantly. ‘You were tasked to kill or capture a mere boy. Not only do you fail to do so, but you kill another dwarf, burn her home, and now bring the probing eyes of the Knighthood down upon us! I cannot fathom how someone could be so stupid to concoct such an idiotic plan… Wait – I know. Your father must have swived a troll, and then you popped out. That’s the only explanation for your stupidity.’
Togram stared at the stone floor as he knelt before the elf, who outranked him, though his scowl continued to deepen under the elf’s tirade. He apparently didn’t take too kindly to hearing his mother being referred to as a ‘troll.’ His companion, Jarvis, slunk away in the shadows.
‘We had no choice,’ Togram replied. ‘We set up the ambush as planned, but the kids were not there. They must have left without our notice.’
‘So you killed the dwarf and the knight, instead of waiting,’ the elf said mockingly.
Cursed Knight Page 24