by J. M. Topp
‘Oh, fuck,’ said Eymeg, standing up, preparing for another attack.
‘Oh fuck, indeed, you bastard,’ a muffled voice said from behind the kouffyngtooth, and a noseless grey face with rows of sharpened teeth bared rose from the mud. Tiebalt pushed himself from the corpse as he swore. ‘I told you we needed to be more prepared.’ Tiebalt looked down at his sword arm. It was bent unevenly. ‘The thing broke my arm,’ he snapped.
Eymeg looked down at his chest. Three long, bright red marks were scratched across his body. He knew they would become infected if not treated immediately. He looked at Tiebalt and clenched his jaw. ‘The woman will have that stew ready by now. Let’s go. And don’t forget the head. We mount it by the side of the road.’
Eymeg wasn’t about to break the tradition the Veledred had about mounting daemon’s skulls near where they were slaughtered. It was to warn travellers or villagers that daemons had been found and killed nearby. Tiebalt nodded and picked up the horned kouffyngtooth’s head.
‘Thing’s as ugly as you are.’ Tiebalt smiled, baring his jagged teeth.
Eymeg held his middle finger up to Tiebalt and smiled. For a moment, he forgot his troubles. But only for a moment.
After Eymeg set fire to the kouffyngtooth’s body, the two hunters carefully made their way to the small wooden house. Eymeg’s stomach began to rumble as pangs of hunger tormented him. He opened the door and stopped. The woman was on her knees, with fresh tears falling from her eyes. A hooded man held a knife to her neck. A red bruise was beginning to form on her cheek.
‘Help me,’ she said, tears streaming down her muddied face.
‘Shut your mouth,’ said the hooded man. Only, when he spoke, the voice sounded like that of a boy.
‘It’s the serf! Gosfridus,’ said Eymeg.
Gosfridus threw his hood back and poked the knife under the woman’s chin. ‘Stay back! Or I will slice this her neck!’
A Blade Sharpens
FIERCE SNOW WHIPPED before Rickert, blinding him. He could see nothing save for white before him. The cold, strangely enough, didn’t bother him quite so much. He looked down at his arms. They were covered in coarse black fur. Atop his head were two horns, weighing heavily on his neck. He held a rough wooden club in his hands. He couldn’t move. However, he saw a woman, the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on, standing before him. Her purple eyes were accentuated by the purple dress she wore. Something was wrong. Blood stained her dress, and Rickert saw a massive clawed hand reach for the woman and hold her close.
‘Wake up, my love,’ said the woman to the great horned beast. ‘Our work has only begun.’
‘Wake up…’
‘Rickert, wake up!’
Rickert stirred from his bed and looked up to see Rhiannon standing over him.
‘Hurry, we must interrogate our guests,’ she said, wrapping her nightgown close to her neck.
KORHAS LAY ON a cot in a deep sleep, snoring and twitching. It must have been the first time in a while he had had a proper bed to sleep in. Rickert watched his chest rise and fall. His cloak was wrapped around his massive frame, making him look bigger than he already was. Korhas winced in his sleep and let out a loud fart. He scratched his chin and turned onto his side, mumbling something about a wench. Ayda sat beside him, staring at the twin princes.
‘You get used to that after a while. They are just noisy mostly,’ said Ayda with an odd smile.
‘You have a lot to prove—?’ said Rhiannon, rolling her finger.
‘Aydalyyn, but most people call me Ayda.’ She glanced over at Korhas. ‘You must forgive Korhas. He has been working very hard and has had very little sleep,’ she said, forcing a smile onto her face.
‘How is it that you came to us?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Yes, I must know if I can trust you,’ said Rhiannon, walking up to Ayda.
‘Very well, princess. We came up from the Titanite Mines but were captured by an elfen regiment. For days they kept us in an encampment in a cell at the foot of the Cairn of Winter. We were able to escape after a while, and we took one of those tanks with us. It still is hard to imagine a machine like that existing in this world. It is strange magic.’
‘Not magic,’ said Rickert, but after a sharp glance from Rhiannon, he turned back to Ayda. ‘But continue.’
‘There isn’t much after that,’ said Ayda. ‘We have been spying on Felheim for weeks. It wasn’t until your brother was climbing the roof of the chapel that we had the best opportunity to contact you.’
‘Some form of contact,’ snapped Rickert, folding his hands over his chest.
‘Again, I apologise. Korhas can be…’ Ayda hesitated, looking at the burly man, who snorted and returned to his slumber. ‘…testy.’
‘Daemons. You said something about daemons. Can you prove this?’ asked Rhiannon.
Ayda put a strand of hair behind her ear, showing her pointed one. Rhiannon grimaced but kept her silence. Ayda began to unbutton her shirt, baring the tops of her small breasts. A look of panic spread over Rickert’s face, and his ears reddened. Ayda flashed a smile. ‘Don’t worry, young prince,’ she said. Then a strange blue light began to glow high on her chest.
‘What is that?’ asked Rickert.
‘A summoner spirit mark. They are spirits only the gods may use as guardians of the heavens or hells in their absence. Which means the gods have indeed abandoned this world. The barriers between the heavens and hells are open,’ said Ayda, seeming to carefully measure her words. ‘This is what brought about the Second Age of Fog.’
‘Alestaeyn preserve us,’ whispered Rhiannon.
‘I don’t mean to be rude, but there is very little time. Eldervale needs your help in restoring the world and its barriers. The Harmony of the Apostles must take place.’
Rickert stiffened his back at the words. ‘What is that?’
‘An ancient prophecy that came about during the First Age of Fog,’ said Ayda. ‘In that time, the Harmony of the Apostles was called, but they failed somehow. I do not know why. I only know that if this Second Age of Fog is to be stopped, the Harmony must be collected, and only then will the Second Age of Fog be ended and forever close the barriers between worlds.’
‘Who are these Apostles?’ asked Rhiannon.
‘The spirit and I make up one,’ said Ayda.
‘How do you know that?’ asked Rickert.
‘The summoner spirit told me.’
‘Where is this summoner spirit?’ asked Rhiannon.
Patiently, Ayda pointed out the window. ‘On the outside of these walls. He is named Ayagi, and much like the legendary serpent of old, he is too large to enter the city, but he is strong and grows stronger every day.’
‘This is all too vague.’ Rhiannon shook her head. ‘Where will this happen?’
‘According to the summoner spirit, in Alder Isle, the city of Memiryn. Alder Isle is the land the gods inhabited while they built the world. It is there that, once all seven Apostles are gathered, the magic hidden deep beneath the bedrock will rise and restore the world.’
‘If you need to be in Memiryn, what are you doing in Felheim, at the other end of the world?’ asked Rhiannon.
‘I said we are hunting for the Harmony of the Apostles.’
‘And?’ snapped Rhiannon.
‘And we think you are one of them, Prince Rickert.’
Rickert glanced at Rhiannon. She was giving him the same look of confusion that he wore on his own face.
‘What do you mean?’ he asked .
‘My summoner spirit can sense when an Apostle is nearby. Perhaps that is what drew him to me in the first place. Ayagi, now that he is fully grown, is the easiest method of tracking the Apostles down.’
‘This is a human prophecy. What does it have to do with the elfen?’ said Rhiannon, folding her arms across her chest.
‘I do not know, princess,’ said Ayda with a soft smile. ‘All I know is we must complete this task before all is lost. There w
on’t be an Eldervale to conquer without the Harmony of the Apostles…of which you make one.’ Ayda pointed at Rickert. Rhiannon bit her lip and then let out a sigh.
‘I make one?’
Ayda nodded. ‘After Ayagi sensed another Apostle nearby, it was only a matter of deduction. However, to be sure, I have to take you to him. Only then can we know for certain.’
‘I want to know more about all of this, but I can see you are exhausted. My handmaiden will take care of anything you might need.’ Rickert clapped his hand, and a handmaiden entered the room. Her hair was blonde with strands of red braided into it. Her blue eyes scrutinised the visitors. ‘This is Kazu. She will attend your every need, but I must insist you not leave this room. Though, I suppose this confinement is much better than living out of a track.’
‘I DON’T TRUST them,’ said Rhiannon when they finally reached their bedchamber. Rickert put his cloak and hood away and craned his neck towards her. ‘Listen to me, Rickert. I have trouble trusting them,’ she snapped at Rickert and pulled his shoulders so he would look at her. ‘Something is wrong about all this.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘What do they all have in common, Rickert?’ she said with a frown, crossing her arms in front of her.
‘I…I don’t…’
‘You lunk!’ said Rhiannon, pinching the bridge of her nose. ‘They’re all rejects and cursed ones. One of them is a human, and that little girl is half-human and half-elf. A goddamn abomination. And they nearly mentioned two others before that big one, Korhas, shushed her. Who are they hiding?’
‘Yeah, so?’ asked Rickert with a shrug.
‘So they could be using us.’
‘Of course they’re using us. We're using them too,’ Rickert said as he turned to his twin sister.
‘To do what?’
‘To kill Morrenwylf.’
‘Not this again. Rickert, I’ve already told you—’
Suddenly, the doors to the royal bedroom flew open. Rickert’s face went red as he recognised the shadow standing in the doorway.
‘Children. Good evening,’ said a voice spilling over with evil and hatred. Rickert and Rhiannon both jumped from their beds as High Primarch Morrenwylf entered the room. Rhiannon bowed as she had been taught, but Rickert stared at Morrenwylf with fists clenched.
‘I was wondering when you would show up, Primarch,’ said Rickert.
Morrenwylf sucked on his teeth. ‘I would have thought Noreadryyn had taught you manners, young prince. Not even a bow?’
‘I bow to those I respect. I hold none of that for you.’ Rickert pointed defiantly at the primarch.
Morrenwylf smiled and shook his head. ‘You are insolent, Rickert. But I do admire your tenacity.’
‘I will not repeat myself. Leave now, and never bother my sister or me again.’
‘Guards!’ Morrenwylf shouted. From behind him three men in black robes and blackened chestplates entered—the Alestaeyn Chapel guards. Two of them wore hoods low on their faces. The other one had his hood pulled back. His silver hair was long and expertly trimmed to his jawline. His face was young but sharp and without mercy. His dark blue eyes studied Rickert. The guards walked up to Rickert and stood tall over him.
‘That’s right. It would take at least that many of you bastards to take me down,’ snapped Rickert defiantly. The grey-haired guard slapped Rickert to the ground, drawing blood from his mouth.
‘Silence,’ said the guard, frowning. ‘The primarch is speaking.’
Rickert stood up carefully and wiped the trail of blood from his lip. ‘I know I can’t fight each and every one one of you. But it doesn’t mean I won’t try.’ He spat at the primarch and folded his fists in front of him.
The silver-haired guard punched Rickert in the stomach, sending him to the ground once more. The guard placed a boot onto Rickert’s right hand, putting some of his weight on his fingers. Rickert glared up at the man. ‘You can’t make me beg,’ he said through clenched teeth.
‘I don’t want you to beg,’ said the silver-haired guard, pressing hard onto his hand. Rickert gritted his teeth, but as the pressure increased, he began to shout.
‘There we are,’ said Morrenwylf.
Crack!
One of Rickert’s fingers snapped under the weight of the guard's foot. Pain shot through Rickert’s arm. The guard laughed and lifted his foot. Rickert pulled his hand from the floor. His index finger was twisted unnaturally to the side. Tears collected in his eyes as he looked up at the primarch.
‘Rhi, I have need of you,’ said Morrenwylf.
Rhiannon nodded her head and followed the primarch like a lamb to the slaughter.
‘You fuckers,’ Rickert said under his breath. He struggled to stand up, cradling his broken hand to his chest. ‘Leave her alone!’
‘Woah now! Language like that is not becoming of an elf,’ said the guard, walking toward him.
‘But molesting my little sister is?’ Rickert spat blood onto the ground.
This time the silver-haired guard reared back and punched Rickert in the face. Rickert twisted back and fell to the ground.
His vision went dark.
RICKERT’S HAND THROBBED. He realised he was no longer on the floor but on his bed. His hand was wrapped in cloth, and it smelt of aloe and other spices. He looked up to Rhiannon’s bed, but she was not there. He sat up and noticed Noreadryyn beside him. She was knitting a piece of blue and black clothing.
‘How long have I been asleep?’ asked Rickert as memories began to flood back into his mind.
‘Almost all morning,’ said Noreadryyn, looking up at him, pausing her knitting. ‘What did you do to yourself, little prince? Your hand is broken, and you have a black eye. Did you fall down some steps?’
‘Something like that, headmistress.’ He knew it was pointless to tell her the truth. ‘Where’s my sister?’
‘You are too reckless, Rickert. Rhiannon is already having her lessons in the gardens with the Kindler. I decided, due to your condition, you should wait and give time for your hand to heal.’ Noreadryyn resumed her knitting and shook her head. ‘What am I to do with you two? You are always getting into trouble.’
Rickert made a face but made sure the headmistress didn’t see it.
He stood up.
‘No you don’t.’ He looked at Noreadryyn, confused. ‘You are to stay in bed until you feel better.’
‘It’s only my hand that hurts. I feel fine. I have to go and—’
‘You are to rest regardless, Rickert. I will not have you running about with your hand wrapped up. What would the citizens of Felheim think?’
For the first time in a long while, Rickert remembered the people of Felheim. They were easy to forget about, being as sheltered as he was. The only people he encountered were royalty and the guards. Since the war, Rickert had been prohibited to be seen by the people. The council had the power to control the influence over the citizens of Felheim.
‘Soon you will rule over them, young prince. You will be called king. Patience is a virtue you must well acquaint yourself with,’ said Noreadryyn, standing up and putting her knitting materials in her seat. ‘I must ascertain that your sister hasn’t gotten in trouble. I will have a guard posted on the outside of this room and below your window, so don’t think of sneaking out.’ She glared at Rickert and then exited the room. Rickert heard the bolt slide into place on the other side. Then he knew he was indeed a prisoner in his own room.
‘Damn, she’s not playing, is she?’ The voice startled him. A girl with black curls emerged from beneath his bed frame. Ayda jumped onto Rickert’s blankets and smiled at him. Her discoloured eyes looked him over. ‘I thought that windbag would never leave.’
‘How did you get in here?’
‘I had to check up on you. Who did this to you?’ Ayda touched his cheek and then held his broken hand.
Rickert moved his head away and looked out the window. ‘Do you really have to ask?’
‘That old
shit,’ said Ayda, hissing through her teeth.
‘That what?’
‘I know what your sister is going through. You’re not safe here, Rickert. You and your sister’s lives are in danger.’
‘Don’t you think I’ve thought of that?’ said Rickert. ‘No place is safe anymore.’
Ayda didn’t respond immediately to that.
‘The only thing left is to kill him, but I don’t know how,’ said Rickert, looking down at his lap.
‘We have a plan, Rickert.’ Ayda put her hand over his.
Rickert immediately flushed and didn’t know what to say. ‘I…’
Ayda flushed as well and took her hand back. Rickert swallowed hard but couldn’t help noticing that, even though they were discoloured, Ayda’s eyes were the prettiest he had ever seen. She moved back and pushed a curl past her ear.
Rickert felt something he had never paid much attention to underneath the sheets in between his legs. He pulled a pillow over his lap, somehow turning even more red than before. Ayda ducked under the bed and picked up a blue stone from beneath. The rock was flat and shaped like a diamond.
‘You said you wanted proof that daemons roam Eldervale. Here’s your proof,’ she said, holding the stone out to Rickert.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s a scale from the summoner spirit.’
‘From this Ayagi?’ He looked at Ayda. ‘Ayagi, from the old legends?’
She nodded. ‘He is as big as a house now. I hope he doesn’t grow any more. He will be difficult to hide in the forest.’
‘You speak as if Ayagi is your friend.’
‘He is. He saved my life.’
Rickert was bewildered. It was impossible. Yet the scale before him proved it. It still had a faint blue glow to it.
‘Hold it. It’s still warm,’ said Ayda, holding the scale out to him. She was right. The warmth wasn’t enough to burn his hand, but it felt nice against his fingers.
Rickert put it to his chest. ‘This is incredible.’