by J. M. Topp
Suddenly, bells began to ring throughout the castle, startling Rickert. Two guards rounded the corner and ran past him in the hallway.
‘Hey! Wait!’ Rickert called after them, but they did not stop. He charged after them. They ran from the royal quarter and down the stairs to the castle fountain square. There, more guards stood around the base of the fountain. Rickert, out of breath, ran up beside them.
‘Why are you running? What is going—’ he began but then noticed blood on the ground. His heart jumped into his mouth. ‘Rhiannon!’
He pushed a guard out of the way. The Kindler stood in the middle of the crowd, looking down over the body.
But the body did not belong to Rhiannon.
Noreadryyn lay on her back with her eyes rolled into the back of her skull. Her hair was drenched in red. Blood was still seeping from the hideous wounds in her stomach and pooling beneath her limp body. She lay with one arm on her stomach and the other above her head. Her spectacles were broken atop at her neck.
Rickert gasped.
The Kindler noticed the young prince.
‘Get the prince away from here immediately!’ he shouted at a guards.
‘Noreadryyn!’ shouted Rickert. The guards looked at each other, not knowing what to say.
‘Take him to his room, now!’ shouted the Kindler.
‘No, I will not have it!’ Rickert protested, but it was useless to fight the guards. They picked him up and carried him away. The Kindler knelt over the body of Noreadryyn and bowed his head.
‘Alestaeyn preserve us.’
A Sparrow Takes Flight
THE STENCH OF rotting fish filled Elymiah’s nose. Water rose to her face, brushing against her cheek. The sound of waves crashing on a beach made her eyes slowly open. She sat up haltingly. Her body protested any movement she made, and a harsh bite stung her side. Salty waters dripped from her face and hair. The sun had gone down, and the moon hung in its place in the sky. Even then, Elymiah could see the wall of fog surrounding the isle, looming almost as high as the moon was in the heavens. Another wave of stench hit her, and she heard a deep but soft groan.
Elymiah turned her head slowly to see a towering shadow beside her. She gasped and struggled to her feet, but her left leg was useless. She winced as she fell back onto the coarse sand. Searing pain shot through her shoulder. She looked where her right arm had been. Only a mess of flesh and bone remained.
A low growl emanated from the shadow. A gigantic eye lifted its eyelid, glowing yellow in the dark.
‘Thousands of years I have been the guardian of the Isles of Brume,’ said the kraken with a raspy, broken voice. ‘Knight and daemon have never prevailed over me. No ship has ever passed without my permission. And now, at the end of an age, I have found my equal.’
Elymiah’s heart stopped for a second. Purple blood seeped from somewhere beneath the beast, pooling around it. The kraken raised its tentacle in the air. Elymiah looked for a weapon, but there was nothing around her. She was utterly at the mercy of the dying beast. But the kraken did not strike at her. Instead, it tossed an object at her feet.
The magic knife Theodric had gifted her fell before Elymiah. She grabbed it and looked up at the kraken in confusion. The yellow eye stared at her, unblinking.
‘Do not think yourself better than I! For I saved your life and brought you here. So it must be. Remember my name. Remember Ótta.’ The kraken let out another slow growl, but its eye never wavered from Elymiah. The kraken eye began to dull, and before she knew it, the beast was indeed dead.
Another wave of stench hit her. She heard a shout in the winds of the sea. Elymiah stood up, wobbling and holding her stump of an arm. She saw two shadows on the beach.
‘Tsoryg! Amelinne!’she shouted with all the strength she could muster, but something was wrong. As she hobbled toward them, she saw Amelinne with her hands folded over Tsoryg’s chest, pumping her arms up and down.
‘No, you bastard,’ Amelinne grunted. ‘Not like this.’
Tsoryg lay on the sand, his eyes gazing at the sky.
‘No,’ Amelinne said, stopping to put her ear to his chest. ‘No.’ She continued to pump his chest, seeking any sign of life. Suddenly, Tsoryg’s eyes fluttered, and he turned and puked onto the sand. He clutched at his chest, and his breaths came out in short gasps, but at least he was alive.
‘Amelinne, my chest,’ he groaned.
‘Oh, Tsoryg!’ shouted Amelinne, draping her arms around his neck. ‘Don’t ever leave me. Don’t ever do that again,’ she sobbed.
Elymiah let out a sigh of relief. She turned to Karagh Muín to see someone riding on a steed toward them. She sheathed the knife and tried to stand up, again falling onto the sand. She inspected her broken leg. It was indeed crushed and oddly bent. It made her think of King William’s crushed legs that she had had to cleave off in the forest before the Kingsoul River. She wondered if he was alive still—him or his son, Irilynd.
The rider came closer, galloping quickly toward them. A grey cloak billowed behind the rider, and as he came near, he pulled his hood from his face.
It was Theodric.
He slowed his horse as he reached Elymiah and jumped off his mount. Amelinne helped Tsoryg to his feet and put his arm over her shoulders for support. Theodric’s horse shook its head and breathed heavily at the sight of the dead kraken. Theodric ran up to Elymiah but then looked up at the shadow beside her.
‘Gods save us,’ he gasped.
‘My leg is broken, and my arm—’ Elymiah began, but she could barely finish her words. Her arm was severed at the mid-forearm, and bone could be easily seen jutting from her skin. Blood dripped from the open wound. Sand and sea salt were spotted around the injury. She put a hand around the end of the limb and squeezed to stop the steady flow of blood. Strangely, it didn’t hurt so much anymore, but she had the feeling that was only because of the cold of the night. Theodric knelt beside her, pulled a small phial from his pouch, and put it to her lips. Elymiah drank the liquid as if she had never tasted water before.
‘This will ease the pain,’ said Theodric as he helped her stand up.
‘Wait.’ Elymiah drew her magic knife and limped over to the dead beast. She leaned down and grabbed the end of its tentacle. With three precise slices, she cut off the end of the tentacle and held it with her good hand. Then she allowed Theodric to help her up onto the horse. He looked warily at the dead kraken.
‘By the gods, no one has ever been able to kill that beast, though dozens of brave men have tried. You should feel proud,’ he said, a newfound sparkle in his eye.
Elymiah’s stomach lurched in her belly, and she leaned over the horse to vomit. When she had emptied all the contents in her stomach, consisting mostly of sea water, she wiped her mouth off with her wrist.
‘I feel sick. Take me back to the castle,’ she said. She lost all strength she had left and lay over the horse’s neck. Amelinne helped Tsoryg walk along the beach as Theodric guided the horse home with Elymiah on the saddle.
THEODRIC LED HIS horse through a narrow crevice that snaked up the side of the mountain. He guided them into a cave, but Elymiah wasn’t paying attention. Her vision was a blur. The effect of the liquid Theodric had given her was beginning to wear off. She held her amputated arm to her chest and squeezed it hard. Her broken leg sent stinging pain up her body every time the horse took a step. Theodric walked before the horse, but Elymiah could no longer bear the pain.
She closed her eyes and allowed her body to fall limp on the horse.
ELYMIAH OPENED HER eyes slowly and looked up at a cold, dark ceiling. She was not in Artus’s chambers anymore, but instead in some old, dusty workshop. She was resting on a wooden table of sorts. Chains and strange hooks hung from the ceiling of the workshop, swinging slowly back and forth. Swords of all kinds were lined up against the walls of the shop. Elymiah’s back was incredibly stiff, but the pain was no longer there. Her heart began to beat faster as she realised that her leg might have been cut off as we
ll. She blinked tears away, hoping that was not the case, but she couldn’t lift her head to see.
It was too much.
‘What are you going to do, sparrow—lay on that table all day?’ asked Theodric, standing at the foot of the table. ‘You didn’t lose your leg if that’s what you are worried about. It wasn't broken, as a matter of fact, just dislocated. You can thank Guiomar for that one. He said he would be back to clean your wounds later.’
Theodric tapped her boot, and Elymiah leaned up to look at her leg. Bandages were wrapped tightly around it, holding two sticks to her leg. A strange sensation came over her right arm. She put her arm up to her face, expecting a stump of a limb to greet her. Instead, she saw a dull grey metallic hand covered in runes. The hand was made of a strange metal that felt cold to the touch. The appendage was attached with a leather clasp to her forearm, and three thick straps had been wrapped around her upper arm and torso expertly. Elymiah twisted the steel appendage. Theodric snorted and gave her a strange smile.
‘What have you done to me?’ she Elymiah, not understanding what she was looking at.
‘I have given you your hand back. Or something to that effect. The blood runes carved in that steel have been tempered to respond to the muscular commands from your shoulder, neck, and brain. It is made from the strongest steel known to humankind. At the end of your days, your body will be utterly destroyed and crushed, but the hand will remain.’
‘Well, that’s a relief,’ said Elymiah, touching the cold metal. ‘I can’t move it.’
‘It will take time for you to understand the commands to make it move. I apologise it doesn’t do anything interesting, like pull back and reveal a cannon or something like that,’ said Theodric. ‘But it does pack a punch, if I can get it to work right.’
‘If? What do you mean?’
‘The strength of the alloy arm will crush the remainder of your shoulder and potentially kill you. Even now, it is a danger to you. The bloodrunes are made with ancient Veledred magic, and I haven’t quite figured out how they work. Incidentally, I have been tampering with a sort of mechanised golem, if you will. I haven’t got it to work right either, but the appendages have worked great for Veledred who lose their limbs.’
Elymiah’s eyes wandered to a black shadow in the corner of the room. It was almost nine feet tall and had a rusted broadsword stuck in its hand.
‘Is that it?’
‘Aye,’ said Theodric. ‘It’s one of the golems. Once I get it into working order, we may be able to make more of them and perhaps become a force to be reckoned with once more.’
Theodric walked over to her side and untied the metal arm from her severed limb.
‘No one has ever gotten this far since the Veledred lost the ancient knowledge. The elfen came close with their automatons, but in the end, they gave up, choosing war over innovation. I picked up where they left off. I could be rich if I get it just right. Then the Veledred would have no more need for the Keeper of the Reef’s money or supplies,’ said Theodric, reveling in his knowledge of Veledred history.
‘Where are Tsoryg and Amelinne?’
‘Tsoryg is in a healer’s chambers. Amelinne is with him. They will both be fine.’
‘You sent us there to die.’ Elymiah glared.
‘I didn’t do shit,’ said Theodric with a smile.
‘You knew there was little chance we would make it.’
‘You have a bit of luck with you it seems.’ Theodric cradled the metallic arm in his hands as if it were a small child. ‘There is something you should know, sparrow.’ He set the metal arm down on a table beside him. ‘A messenger has come from Saltkire Hold, bearing news.’
‘News? What kind of news?’ asked Elymiah, sitting up. ‘Is it Robyn?’
‘Who?’
She swallowed hard and hesitated for a moment, shaking her head. ‘Tell me, Theodric.’
‘It’s your father, Elymiah. It’s best if you—’
‘Where? Where is Artus?’ Elymiah let herself down from the table.
‘The messenger is with the castellan in his quarters right now.’
Elymiah gathered her shirt and put it on as best she could with only one arm.
‘Elymiah, you cannot interrupt their meet,’ warned Theodric.
But Elymiah did not care. She grabbed the kraken tentacle and stormed out of the cold room. At first, she didn’t know where she was, but then she saw a path leading from the docks to the inside of Karagh Muín. Elymiah followed the path down and through the castle. She tried to keep a brisk pace, but her leg would only allow her to go so fast. The pain coming from her leg radiated through her body, but she did her best to force her way through it. She reached the castellan’s quarters and was about to storm in when the door flew open. A man with dark grey armour unlike any Elymiah had seen before walked through. He was missing an eye, but his other eye was dark green, and he stared intently at her. The man’s skin was olive-brown. He had a scar that ran all the way from his ear to his missing eye. Part of his ear was missing as well. His hair was completely shaved. The man smiled at her, showing his yellow and black teeth. He was tall and imposing, yet handsome, almost making Elymiah catch her breath. He brushed past her with a nod. She turned to the castellan’s quarters and saw Zignumerand staring holes into her from the doorframe.
‘You lived,’ spat Zignumerand.
‘I’ve done more than that, Castellan,’ she said, holding the kraken's severed tentacle up to the light. His eyes widened in astonishment.
‘I have done as you asked,’ said Elymiah.
‘I suppose you will want to be inducted as a Veledred now. To become a daemon hunter.’
‘My father, where is he?’ asked Elymiah, ignoring his question.
Zignumerand sighed and opened the door for her to enter. She walked into the room, glancing at the Holy Silver Angels Platoon armour in the corner. She sighed and looked at the castellan. He walked around her and sat at his sizeable black oak table.
‘Who was that?’she asked, glancing behind her.
‘A messenger from Saltkire Hold. One of Bearohd's own men.’
‘What message did he have? Tell me,’ said Elymiah, turning back to him.
‘You do not make demands of me!’ Zignumerand slammed his hands on the table. ‘To think you, an upstart knight from Aivaterra, could possibly command me! You have no authority here, Elymiah Farnesse. You were merely the mud clinging to your father’s boot!’
She glared at him but didn’t take the bait. ‘Where is my father?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What did the messenger have to say?’
Zignumerand sighed. ‘Your father and his crew have all gone missing.’
‘How? Why?’
‘You may not have heard, but we Veledred are in a bad way. We receive support from the Keeper of the Reef monthly in exchange for protection from daemons and otherworldly creatures that might find their way to the Isles of Brume. The Keeper of the Reef has missed the last two shipments, and we desperately need those supplies.’
‘Is there a reason he missed them?’
‘That is classified information, not for the likes of you.’
‘You said it yourself, Zignumerand. You are all in a bad way. I came here aboard the Painted Basilisk, a survivor and refugee from Aivaterra. I did not come here to take my father’s place as Commandant of the Veledred. I will search for and find my father, and then I will leave, just like you have wanted me to do since I arrived. This is a goal we both care to achieve. Help me, and this will come to fruition.’
Zignumerand looked at Elymiah in silence for a moment. Finally, he folded his hands to his chin and took in a deep breath. ‘The Keeper of the Reef gave Artus a mission as head of the Veledred. There is a cyclops in the Moonlit Valley north of Saltkire Hold. Apparently, it has been terrorising Bearohd’s villages and is preventing caravans of precious rocks and resources from arriving at Saltkire Hold. If Artus could not kill the cyclops, then the Keeper of the Reef w
ould attack Karagh Muín and take it under his control.’
‘Attack? Karagh Muín is impenetrable. Even with our small numbers, he could not win,’ said Elymiah.
‘To the outside forces, you would be painfully right. However, The Keeper of the Reef knows this mountain castle well. He claims that Karagh Muín once belonged to his ancestors and we, the Veledred, took it from him. If he were to mount an attack, there is a likelihood that he would win.’
‘What happened to my father?’
‘According to the messenger, Artus and his men found the cyclops in the Moonlit Valley, but it was able to best everything they could throw at it. As the report goes, the cyclops has leathery skin that spear or sword cannot penetrate. The cyclops killed many men. I do not know if Artus made it out.’
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Elymiah.
‘I have already organised a search party of our best hunters to go and find Artus or whatever remains of him. I will know what to do with the cyclops when we find it.’ Zignumerand swallowed hard.
‘I am going with the search party,’ said Elymiah, clenching her fist.
‘No, you are not.’ Zignumerand furrowed his brow. ‘Your leg is bound and your arm missing—’
‘You cannot stop me, Castellan. I am no Veledred, as you’ve said yourself.’
‘You would only slow them down, Elymiah. Look at you. Tell me, how exactly do you intend to help?’
Elymiah stopped for a moment and bit her lip. ‘Then I will go separately.’
Zignumerand burst into laughter. ‘You would go alone? What makes you think you would fare better than the fifteen veteran men Artus had with him and the twelve I am sending to look for him?’
‘I faced the kraken on my own.’
‘A kraken is no cyclops.’
‘As the baby wyvern is no kraken? I would say I am slightly surprised you understand there are differences between certain species of creatures, but then you’ve never faced any of them yourself, have you? You send acolytes, recruits, and freshly promoted Veledred, don’t you? If they die, they die.’ Elymiah stood close to Zignumerand’s face. A scowl crept over the castellan’s mouth.