by O. J. Lowe
I’ve often dreamed of flying, but I didn’t get the chance to enjoy this, I knew how a tin of ham felt as I was bashed about inside my armour, hit the grass hard, my sword lost to me as the final troll-ape advanced on me, club held high above his head, I swallowed, knew if I didn’t do something, he was going to bring it down on me and that wouldn’t be good for my health.
I moved, his club came whistling down and left a mini crater where I’d been laid a second ago. I kicked out with my armoured foot, smashed into the back of his knee and he buckled, I rose to unsteady feet, tried not to fall. My vision swam, I shook myself to try and keep some composure. Jeez, but that thing had hit me hard. My forehead felt wet inside my helmet, sore and foggy. Maybe I’d smashed into it.
“Come on then, you big ugly fuck,” I groaned. Even my words came out slurred, unfocused, my tongue fat and heavy in my mouth, like I’d swallowed an uncooperative piece of beef. “Let’s have you.”
The fist smashed into me, sent me staggering, at least it hadn’t gone with its fucking club, my ears rang with the sound of the blows meeting my armour. It was sturdy, I’d give it that, but there’s only so much you can take. It might be tough; I was very much breakable inside it. The canned food metaphor felt apt right about now.
I hit the grass, my legs no longer able to hold me up, the embrace of the grass so very comforting. Where had this stuff been all my life? I could just lay here forever, go to sleep, rest my weary eyes…
And I’d fucking die if that happened!
If that wasn’t a sobering thought, I didn’t know what was. I pushed myself up onto all fours, breathing heavily, chest pounding and blood in my eyes, my vision the same shade of crimson as my hair. Fuck.
It was going to be over soon, I couldn’t do this much longer, even now the troll-ape was on me, bringing back his leg to wind up a powerful kick. This was going to hurt; I squeezed my eyes shut and the stinging of the blood in them only intensified. I didn’t want to see what was going to come next.
My mount came back, I’d never been so happy to hear the bleating roar of another living thing as he leaped into my field of vision, head lowered and smashed square into the troll-ape’s stomach, his horns tearing through that flesh. To my left, I caught sight of the glinting in the grass, dull grey iron marred by thick black blood and I leaped for my sword, wrapped uncooperative fingers around the hilt.
I turned and threw it, some part of me screaming that it was a dumb thing to do, even as it left my fingers, still I could only watch as it span through the air and hit the beast square in the chest, blade first with a dull thud. Those dull, watery eyes went wide with shock, it stared at me with barely concealed surprise, even a little sense of hurt. It was dying now, it had to know that.
This thing, this fucking beast, this inhuman thing, it’d made its choice to invade. I had a duty; I’d carried it out. I didn’t take any pleasure in it, I couldn’t do that, or I’d be little worse than one of the fae. They didn’t give a shit.
I’d won. Barely. All around me, they were dead or dying, lights snuffed out and I couldn’t give a shit that I’d done it. That was human. They weren’t. I had to tell myself they didn’t matter. All this time and I’d yet to null myself to it. That was either good, it meant my time in fae hadn’t shattered me beyond repair, or it meant I was ineffective at my job and the retirement plan for being a knight was pretty piss poor. Either I’d die without seeing what killed me, or it’d be a slow death, probably painful. Leanna wasn’t the sort of employer who’d give me a gold watch and let me leave with a thank you and a handshake.
Behind me as my armour faded, an impressed whistle rang out, slow, sarcastic applause. “My, my, that was suitably violent. I guess the rep you got wasn’t exaggerated now, was it?”
I spun on the spot, met the glare of the strange man, he tipped me a wink and a bow. His voice was far too oily for my liking, something disgustingly smug about him. “My greetings to you, Sir Knight. My compliments on your prowess.” There was something unsettling about him, I had to admit, a sense of ethereal gracefulness as he moved, ostentatiously clad in a suit of black velvet, no tie, but his shirt beneath it was brilliant crimson. He was too good-looking by half, I thought, it immediately left me feeling the urge to not trust him. His white-blond hair lay scraped back against his head, his features sharper than broken glass.
“Who are you?” I asked.
Large hands with delicate fingers swept out in front of him, black energy crackling across them, I moved to go for my armour, but he was faster, the cold spread through me as he landed his attack and I thought no more.
Five.
You know how hard it is to keep hold of something on the streets of the Novisarium when you’re constantly surrounded by those who have even less? Imagine a hurricane, right? Imagine a butterfly net. Now, you’ve got those two separate images in your head, imagine trying to capture the former with the latter. Bingo. I was amazed the watch stayed a secret for as long as it did. In truth, I should have offloaded it as soon as possible, but I couldn’t help it. Was it really so wrong to want to keep it? I felt like I’d gotten my own little secret when I’d found it and I wanted to make it last forever.
The only time I awoke and found someone rummaging through my threadbare jacket to try and steal it, I didn’t hesitate to do what needed to be done. Throughout human history, there’s always been one rule that anyone who is anyone has ever followed. When you’ve got something that’s undeniably yours, you protect it with all your heart. In this instance, my method of protection was a foot-long iron blade which I drove into the thief’s throat from behind, cut into his neck and he gasped for air as blood erupted from him, covering the ground in front of us. I didn’t care, he’d tried to steal from me, and I couldn’t permit that to stand as my old knife cut into him again and again, his movements vicious and frenzied at first, gradually they slowed, and his moans of protest faded into silence. Eventually he stopped moving completely.
In the moments under the moonlight, I studied him, found myself wondering about who he’d been before this, whether he’d been born into this life like me, or if once upon a time he’d been someone fallen on hard times. I wondered which was worse, to have lived like this forever, or to have known prosperity and to have lost it. You cannot have sadness without experiencing happiness before, I guess. I supposed that made it harsher.
If the Vigilant of the Novisarium caught me like this, I’d be in trouble, they didn’t treat murderers kindly. I’d get a trial, probably be thrown in Tartarus before the stains had dried on the ground. For people like me, justice, if you want to call it that, is remarkably swift and merciless. I looked down at myself, my clothes covered in the dead man’s blood, the moonlight staining them black. I looked like a scene from a slasher film, I’d draw attention anywhere I went unless I could change.
I cradled my watch and my knife, my two prize possessions in all the world, my blood-soaked fingers met the button at the top of the watch, the release catch and inadvertently I felt the click of it opening. What was new, I quickly realised, was the brilliant shine of white light emerging from the inside, I almost recoiled, almost dropped the watch. If I had, I doubted I’d have had the courage to pick it up ever again.
Instead, I embraced the light, reached for it and in turn, it swallowed me whole, warmth and brilliance taking me, a brief sucking sensation and then everything changed.
Awaking hurt, my hands bound tight, my legs immobile through the same means, I grit my teeth together and tried to wrench them free, immediately winced in pain as the bonds reacted to my efforts, only clamped down on me harder. I permitted myself a peek down, coils of ebony energy wrapped around me, left me trussed up like a Christmas goose. Across from me, the thick odour of smoke hung in the air, something delicious mixed in with it. Inadvertently, my mouth started to water.
“Ah, you’re awake,” the oily man said, sounded like he was way too pleased with himself and I didn’t like that. “Brilliant. Can I interest you
in some food?” He offered me a hunk of meat on a black skewer, tipped me another wink. It smelled absolutely heavenly, as much as I hated to admit it. “I mean, there’s not much left, I got to make do with what I got, but—”
“Who are you?” I demanded, immediately struggling against my bonds, desperate to shatter them. Damnit, I was a goddamn knight, I wasn’t being subjected to this. “I demand you let me go this instance, sir, or suffer the consequences!”
“Moulton,” he said. “Garett Moulton.” He said it with such a lack of concern, I disliked him instantly. It takes a lot to make a bad first impression and he was doing it effortlessly. “And as for suffering the consequences, go on. I’ll take my chances, Knight.” He dropped into a crouch and studied me with barely concealed indifference. “I’m waiting. If you’re going to pull some retribution out of your arse, you might want to stand up first.”
I continued to struggle, wincing as the black energy tightened its grip on me, cutting off any sort of feeling in my wrists and ankles, his face contorted into a smirk as he watched me, folded his arms.
“You’re not going to break free,” he said, all smug smiles. “Believe me. That magic is imperious. Some of my best. You’re caught like a Christmas turkey. Do they do Christmas in High Hall?” He shrugged, gave me another grin. “Guess not. I’d be surprised.”
“Moulton, eh?” I studied him, finally stopped my struggles. It wasn’t doing any damn good, conserving myself was probably the better idea. If I got a chance, I needed to take it. I privately cursed not having access to any magic of my own. “Wizard, right?”
“What gave it away?” He tipped me a wink, turned away from me and that was on the verge of pissing me off until I caught sight of the scarring around his ears, couldn’t tear my gaze away from them. They weren’t like any ears I’ve ever seen, misshapen hexagons as if someone had taken a knife and parred them down. A flush fired into his cheeks as he caught me looking, he turned back to face me, a scowl on his face.
“I’m curious exactly what you think you’re doing here,” I said, trying to keep as much composure in my words as I could. “You’ve attacked a member of Queen Leanna’s court.”
“Yes.”
Somehow, I knew he hadn’t been about to outright deny it. “Aha!”
“I’ve done worse than that,” Moulton said, his words nonchalant. “You killed the bait.” He jerked a dismissive head towards the troll-apes. “Not entirely unexpected, but you ever try to get those things to do what you want them to? Like herding cats. Big smelly cats that can crush you.” His face split into a cold grin. “Well, they can crush you. Me and them, we found an understanding. A mutual agreement. I got something they want, there’s something they can do for me.”
He held up a hand, showed me the amulet I’d worn previously around my neck. In my surprise at being trapped, I’d not even thought to summon my armour. “Nice little trinket, you know. I got one just like it. Not as flashy, but infinitely more deadly. You got to hand it to the fucking fae, they’ll pull shit like that. Steal a design, work their own spin on it.” He reached into his jacket, held up a similar amulet, an onyx-black gem surrounded by threads of gold and silver on a chain. Even from here, I caught the power emanating from it. If mine was a cigarette lighter, the one Moulton wore was a flamethrower, a beacon burning bright in the twilight.
Shit, how long had I been out cold? Even now, the night was approaching the Silent Plains and that wasn’t good. If you think the daylight is dangerous in here, the real predators come out with the moon.
“Ronald Frazer, I think,” he said. “Someone told me that was your name. I don’t have anything against you, son. What comes next, it isn’t your fault. You shouldn’t feel bad about this; I’ve been doing crap like this for years. Insurrections, rebellions, uprisings, call it whatever you want. I’m a knight too.”
“I doubt that,” I said, fought the urge to spit. “You very much lack honour, Sir. You hit me from behind, you wield weapons of the arcane.”
“Honour, yeah, I’ve heard of that,” Moulton smirked. “There’s no honour in war, Frazer. I’m sorry to disabuse you of that notion.”
“This isn’t war.”
“Not yet,” he said. “I needed you out of the way. Remove you, remove the madman and the path to the queen opens up.”
I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing, exploded so hard with mirth that it hurt, almost doubling up into a ball where I lay on the grass. “Oh, that’s brilliant. That’s the best thing I’ve heard in ages.”
“What do you find so funny, Frazer?!” he demanded.
“You’re going to remove me, you’re going to remove Rasputin, you’re going after Queen Leanna. I’m laughing because there’s easier ways to commit suicide. Probably less painless too. You know, if you want to die, you can get pills for that. Walk into the ocean and fall asleep.”
“You badly misjudge your situation,” Moulton mused, still continuing to munch at the hunk of meat in his fingers, speaking between mouthfuls. “Whether I kill the queen or not, and believe me, I have a desire to, it doesn’t change your fate. The more you talk, the closer you edge yourself to a grave though, it makes no difference to me.”
“What did she do to you?” I wondered. “Why kill her? Hell, why even try? Tackling a fae queen on her home turf is senseless. Tackling a fae queen on any turf is senseless.”
“For years, I’ve harboured desires of snuffing her out,” Moulton growled. “She’s going to regret everything. I’m going to make her suffer.”
“You know in fae politics, might is right, right?”
“Go on?”
“The strongest one rules, right?”
“Your point being?”
“Are you not worried about punching above your weight class?”
“Sporting metaphors,” he growled, gave me a disgusted look. “I find there’s nothing more pitiful than those who need to resort to one to make their point.”
“Okay, dickhead,” I said, deciding to disperse with the parlance and say it as matter of fact as I could manage. If that was what he wanted, then that was what he was going to get. “Look at it like this. Queen Leanna is going to tear you to pieces if you try.”
“Maybe,” he said, shrugging. “Maybe not. Either way, that’s a problem for me to worry about. You, well, you’ve got considerably more to trouble you now.”
“Have I now? What’s your plan? Leave me here to starve?”
“Starve?” He gave me a shark-like grin. “No, no, no, Sir Ronald. That’s not in my intent. I’d never leave you here to starve. My quarrel isn’t with you.” Moulton shrugged his shoulders again, folded his arms. “There’ll be more of these ugly bastards along shortly. I doubt they’ll be happy to see the man who killed their… Compatriots? Is that the right word? Are these fucking things capable of friendship? Or is it just a stone’s throw to revenge? I don’t fucking know, huh?”
“Talk to me about starvation,” I said, though my heart wasn’t in it. Out the corner of my eye, I could see the troll-apes I’d slain, and Moulton was right. Their blood on my blade, their bodies as evidence wouldn’t look good. Ever pulled the legs off an insect just because you can? Yep, in this scenario, I’d likely be the insect.
“Like I said, nothing personal.”
“I’m really all about taking solace from that,” I shot back.
“You’re a functionary,” he said. “You’re one of Queen Leanna’s weapons, even if she doesn’t acknowledge you. Do you know what makes you so deadly?”
“That I can burp each letter of the alphabet?”
He visibly recoiled, rolled his eyes in utter disgust. “You sicken me, Frazer. If you don’t even know why you fulfil the function you do, then what good are you in it?”
“I’m the queen’s right hand,” I said. “I’m her enforcer, I make sure her will is obeyed.”
“Correct,” he replied. “And what does that mean? You really think there’s a lot of outright discord in High Hall at the way she doe
s things? Even the last rebellions, they weren’t an overnight thing.”
“And what do you know of the rebellions?” I shot back. “You weren’t here for them.”
“The rebellions of the fae are yet to become far more important than any of us dream,” Moulton said. “The seeds of the past grow to produce bitter fruit in the future. We choke on the mistakes we made, even more so on the ones made by others.” He threw his bone to the ground, wiped his fingers on the grass. “Your sheep was delicious by the way.”
“You ate my ride?!”
He winked at me, rose to his feet. “What you going to do about it, huh?”
I stared at him, my eyes closing in on the black amulet he wore around his neck, I couldn’t tear my gaze away from it, an old, half-remembered story coming back to me as I did. “Hey, Moulton.”
He paused, even as he was about to turn and walk away, gave me another glimpse of those mutilated ears. “Yes?”
“Curious question, you know, before you leave me to my death.”
“Go on.”
“That amulet you wear. I’ve seen ones like it before, you know.”
“Have you now?” He sounded more amused than curious.
“I don’t just enforce her will in High Hall, I do it in the Novisarium too, those who left so she didn’t have dominion over them. She permits them to do their own thing, provided they give her a tiny tribute every so often.”
“How fascinating. Do you take solace in the fact knowing that you’ll never see that wretched hive of scum and villainy again?”
I ignored that. “The fae of the Novisarium, they crawl into many different places and positions. Deal with them, you’ll see all manner of those places, including some who have associations with those on the Shining Council.” I named the governing body of magic users, mostly wizards but there’s some who don’t title themselves as such. And if this asshole in front of me was anything, it was definitely a wizard.