by J. M. Topp
‘I don’t think I—’
‘Oh, come off it, little prince. You just may enjoy it. There’s nothing left that you can do.’ Ayda struck a match and put it to the end of the pipe. She inhaled and then lazily held it out to Rickert, blowing smoke from her mouth.
He took the pipe and inspected it. It was masterfully made. The bowl was warm to the touch.
‘You put it in your mouth and inhale, just a little,’ said Ayda.
Rickert did so and breathed in, a little too much. He began to cough and gave back the pipe to Ayda. She laughed gleefully. Rickert started to feel dizzy, but then a warm feeling crawled over his shoulders. He sat back in his chair as Ayda found a seat on the end of the desk beside a pile of books.
‘Korhas will kill me if he finds out I took from his stash,’ she said, but then her smile faded to a look of worry. ‘Something has been eating at him lately. He isn’t as cheery as he used to be.’
‘He scares me,’ said Rickert.
‘No need to be scared, little prince. He wouldn’t hurt a soul.’ She took another puff and formed a large O with the smoke. ‘Well, not a soul like you.’ Ayda paused for a moment. ‘I like this place.’
‘What place?’
‘Felheim. The Cairn of Winter. It sounds so regal but mysterious at the same time. I’ll bet there are wondrous histories in those tomes and scrolls.’
‘It’s not as great as you might think,’ said Rickert with a chuckle.
Ayda tapped the mouthpiece of the pipe on her forehead in thought. ‘It has to be better than Duren. Nothing can be worse than that.’
‘Duren. What is that?’
‘It’s a human village in Eldervale,’ said Ayda. ‘Everyone is made of the shit the town is built of. Everyone except one man.’
‘One man?’
Ayda looked at the papers on the table. ‘One man. A traveller. He is the one who saved me. You will meet him one day, my prince. At least I hope you do. But I am afraid he would do poorly in a city like this.’
‘Did you trust the man who saved you?’
‘I would trust him with my life.’ Ayda took another puff of the pipe. ‘I hope he is well, wherever he is. Last time I saw him, it was deep within the Titanite Mines.’
‘I hope Rhiannon is well too,’ said Rickert, glancing at his feet.
‘I’ve never been good at giving people hope,’ said Ayda. ‘But one thing I can tell you—whoever took her will pay in blood.’
The soft tapping of rain began to echo through the study, and Rickert looked out the window. When he did, lightning flashed in the sky. He saw a black-hooded silhouette crouched outside the window. His eyes widened, and he jumped from his seat. The shadow darted away from the window, but Rickert didn’t waste any time. He pushed the window open a crack and looked out for a trace of the shadow. Cold droplets of rain landed on his face.
‘Rickert?’ asked Ayda.
‘I saw someone out there.’
‘Really?’ Ayda leaned off the pile of books.
Rickert shook his head and pushed the window all the way open, which was just enough to squeeze through.
‘Rickert, wait!’
He forced himself through. A breath of ice-cold wind blew into his face, chilling his body. His clothes were instantly soaked through. He glanced over dozens of roofs of the city. The rain was turning into a downpour. Rickert didn’t know if he was propelled by anger over losing Rhiannon or the drug he had just smoked, but he wasn’t going to let that spy get away. He spotted the shadow running across the roof and rushed after it, landing on the wet tiles of the roof. He nearly slipped, but he regained his balance and ran after the shadow. Another chilling gale hit his back, pushing him forward. The shadow raced through the wind and rain.
He is fast.
Rickert held the flintlock in his hands, but it was empty. He knew he couldn’t subdue the shadow, but he wasn’t about to let him go. The hooded figure jumped down onto a balcony and then landed on the street, his black cloak flowing in the wind. Rickert jumped down after the hooded figure, but his footing wasn’t secure. He landed wrong on his ankle. Rickert tumbled onto the balcony and then off into the street. He hit the cobblestones with a thud and groaned.
Shaking his head, Rickert picked himself up slowly, surprised that nothing was broken in his body. He looked up and saw the shadow of the spy at the corner of the street. He was staring back at Rickert.
At that moment, Rickert didn’t know what to think. The hooded figure didn’t have a weapon and wasn’t trying to kill Rickert. Instead, the shadow motioned for him to come closer. Confused, Rickert ran after the shadow, a slight limp in his step. The hooded figure ran up a couple of stacked-up crates farther down the street and then up onto the roof once more, but he wasn’t going so fast this time. Rickert climbed onto the crates and then onto the roof. The shadow stood there, waiting for him. It was difficult to see his face in the eventide rain. He was garbed entirely in black and carried a belt of black knives across his chest.
Rickert aimed the pistol at the shadow. ‘Don’t move.’
The hooded figure didn’t say a word. Instead, he merely pointed a finger at the other side of a building in the middle of an empty plaza. Rickert frowned but kept the flintlock levelled at the shadow.
‘Why were you spying on me?’
The hooded figure held his finger pointed. Rickert poked his head over the rooftop and saw three shadows standing beneath a belltower in the centre of the plaza. One of them held a torch. Rickert instantly knew who he was by the outline of his body. ‘Kindler,’ Rickert whispered. The man beside him took his hood down, making the scar across his throat apparent, but Rickert didn’t recognise him. The third man, Rickert knew well.
Morrenwylf. Rickert clenched his teeth.
‘Not even the Kindler can be trusted,’ said the hooded figure, coming to stand beside him. The voice startled Rickert, and he realised the shadow was a woman.
He took a step back from the her. ‘Who are you?’
Rain pattered on the woman’s clothing, and she turned her shadowed face slightly toward him. ‘Someone you can trust.’ She was fair and beautiful, but despite this there was a hint of danger in her silvery coloured eyes.
‘For all I know, you killed Noreadryyn.’
‘A sloppy kill, young prince. I didn’t kill her, but I know who did.’
‘Who was it?’ Rickert looked up her. Her silver eyes glowed within her hood as she looked down at him.
‘He did.’ She pointed to the men whispering below the bell tower. Rickert squinted his eyes to get a better view of the third man, but the torchlight wasn’t enough to reveal his entire face. It was as if the light itself feared to reveal his cruel features.
‘His name is Theyllyn, and he is as dangerous as I am,’ said the shadow. ‘That is who the Kindler and the high primarch are speaking to at the moment. He is an assassin like I am, but he hails from Alder Isle.’
‘Why?’
‘He thinks Morrenwylf is the man to choose as an ally for his people, and as such, you are his natural enemy. You are playing Morrenwylf’s game, and there’s no way you can beat him. He’s too good at it. He’s had many opponents murdered in back streets or arranged for them to fall victim to mysterious accidents.’
Rickert stared at the three men as they went their separate ways. The spy turned away from the corner and knelt at eye level before him. She put a hand on his shoulder. ‘If you want to beat Morrenwylf, this Kindler, and Theyllyn, you need to trust—’
‘Don’t say I need to trust you. I barely know you.’
‘My prince,’ said the spy with a chuckle, ‘I was going to say trust Advocate Estmund. He will teach you how to beat Morrenwylf. Meanwhile, I think I know where they are keeping your sister.’ Thunder rolled far overhead in the distance. Rickert looked up at the blackening sky. The moon had been covered up by pitch-coloured clouds.
‘Where is she being kept?’ he asked.
‘I have to investigate a few things
before I am certain, young prince.’ The spy turned her back to Rickert and began to walk away. ‘You will know when the time has come.’
‘Wait! How will I know?’
‘You will.’ The spy disappeared into the night as if she had been swallowed up into the darkness itself.
THE COUNCIL OF Alestaeyn Chapel was filled with a jelly-like silence. Not a soul stirred in their seats. No one so much as whispered. Rickert sat in the royal box staring down at the council. High Primarch Morrenwylf was the one to stand up, walk to the centre of the assembly, and remove his wolf mask.
‘It is with great sorrow I stand here before you all,’ said the high primarch. ‘The Twin Princes are two equal parts of the soul that resides in Felheim. To lose one is to be robbed of the life essence that fills this place.’
Rickert wanted to throw up at the words coming from the old pervert’s mouth, but he held his tongue.
‘It is with great sorrow that I tell you all we still haven’t found the little princess. However, I assure you all, my spies are working tirelessly in locating Rhiannon and returning her to the fold.’
Morrenwylf looked up at the royal box, and his eyes locked with Rickert’s.
‘It is with equally great sorrow that I bring to you evidence concerning Lyra Noreadryyn’s death,’ he said. Then he produced three scrolls from within his robes. ‘She was a traitor!’
The Council of Alestaeyn broke into gasps and whispers. Rickert squeezed the arm of his chair.
Morrenwylf held the scrolls above his head and then unwrapped them. ‘She was a member of the White Dagger Guild! These scrolls were found in her bedchamber, and it is undeniable evidence that she collaborated with the rebels during the war.’
Elfen primarchs and advocates stood up and began shouting and shaking their fists.
‘The outrage!’
‘A traitor in our midst!’
‘Who let this happen!?’
Morrenwylf held his hands up, allowing the roar of rage to die down before he continued. When the council chamber had become relatively silent, he cleared his throat.
‘How did we allow a rebel to be so close to our very life essences? That, I cannot answer. I will assure you I will personally see to Prince Rickert’s care, and when we find Princess Rhiannon, I will assure you the same level of dedication in protection. How Noreadryyn slipped through our safety nets, I may never find out, but when the kidnapper is revealed, he or she will be given the death of a traitor. It may even be true that Noreadryyn had a hand in kidnapping Princess Rhiannon, but I will get to the bottom of this terrible event.’
More than anything, Rickert wanted to stand and shout at the high primarch. He wanted to throw his chair at him. But then Advocate Estmund, who was sitting next to him, touched his arm.
‘Patience, Rickert. The time is not yet,’ said Estmund. ‘You will have your chance. For now, you must stay silent and bide your time.’
Tears welled up in Rickert’s eyes, but he did not let them fall.
The Old Crone
ELYMIAH’S BREATH CAUGHT in her throat at the sight of the village. Saltkire Hold was a rather large amalgamation of huts strewn amidst the dense jungle. Straw and bamboo houses stood out like light brown piles of mud in the midst of the thick foliage. The hold itself was so intertwined with greenery that Elymiah had a hard time telling where the village ended and the dense forest began. When she thought she had found the edge of the forest, she would then spot another hut a little farther away. No wall or fortification was surrounding the city, marking its boundaries; instead, it seemed to Elymiah that the dense jungle was protection enough. She would have expected a village watch of sorts to be keeping an eye over Saltkire Hold. However, there was none, and the major spectacle was the small keep in the very centre. It seemed like several upside down longboats had been placed on the keep, making it look mountainous. It was the same colour as the huts beside it. Strange birds with yellow beaks and blue feathers were perched on the top. The longboats were dotted with splotches of white and grey bird faeces.
‘Allow me to do the talking when we arrive. The Keeper of the Reef is…well, I suppose you will find out for yourself,’ said Coda, urging his palfrey forward. They entered the perimeter of the hold. Elymiah subconsciously touched the brand on her neck. It was beginning to feel hot, but she didn’t know why.
Naked children ran among the huts, eyeing the visitors curiously and giggling to each other. Their long black hair was tied into braids, accentuating their coffee-coloured skin. Some of them had tattoos on their arms and legs or covering their backs and chests. A little boy jumped into the middle of the road, placing his hands on his hips. Elymiah stopped her horse before him. Her palfrey leaned down and sniffed the little boy. He couldn't have been older than nine or ten.
‘Who are…?’ asked the boy, pointing at Elymiah. He was unafraid of the strange visitors, unlike his friends, who cowered behind the shadows of buildings and overgrown shrubs. Elymiah couldn’t help but grin. His hair was shaved on the sides of his head, and the hair on the top was gathered into a ponytail behind him. His eyes were steel blue, and his nose was pierced with a thin metal rod. The right side of his head and face were tattooed with the shadow of a shark. The boy wore brown pants but no shirt. He did have a piece of rusted steel armour on his shoulder that was apparently too big for him, yet he held his chest puffed with pride.
The boy sniffed at the visitor.
‘Who are…?’ he repeated, stomping his bare foot on the dirt road.
Coda responded but in a language entirely unfamiliar to Elymiah. The only word she understood was “Veledred”. The boy’s eyes caught her, and his jaw dropped. He pointed at her and looked back at Coda. Coda smiled and spoke again. To Elymiah, it sounded like a bunch of words with a “th” sound to them. A click here and there every now and then. The boy looked at her once more and motioned for Coda and the rest to follow them.
‘He fancies himself the guardian of the village,’ Coda said, urging his horse after the boy. Elymiah snapped the reins of her own horse.
‘He makes me stop before him at his checkpoint every time even though he knows perfectly well who I am.’
Elymiah shook her head. ‘Why allow the boy to believe something that isn’t true?’
‘If it’s not true now, it will be one day. This is Bearohd’s only living son,’ said Coda, following the boy through the village.
The path through the village was narrow. Women holding buckets of water moved out of the way of the horses. Their dresses were coloured brown and white and covered their bodies up to their necks. Men sharpened their swords and axes on grindstones. Most every man was covered head to toe in thick grey iron armour. Elymiah didn’t want even to think how hot it was underneath. Their helms were shaped like hoods, and their faceplates were in the shapes of wolf faces with thin slits for them to see through. They stared at Elymiah. Women poked their heads out of huts, and men frowned and spat as they passed.
‘They must not like visitors,’ said Elymiah.
‘It’s not visitors they don’t like, sparrow. It’s just you, the Veledred,’ said Coda, baring his teeth to a man that spit at him. The boy led them to the very gate of the castle.
He spoke to Coda and held his hand out.
‘He says that he will take care of your horse,’ said Coda, climbing down from his mount.
Elymiah hesitated and looked down at the boy with a wary frown.
‘I am glad he is too young to understand that gesture of mistrust, Elymiah. Anyone else would have taken offence at that. Consider him the prince of this island. As such, his word is as good as the Keeper of the Reef’s own word. He will not steal your items, I promise you,’ snarled Coda. ‘I will take you to the lord right away. He is the one who will grant you permission to the shortcut through the valley.’
The boy put his hand on his hip and glared at Coda.
‘Oh,’ said Coda, shaking his head with a smile. ‘The boy wants you to know his name is Skigg.’
<
br /> ‘Hmm.’ Elymiah stepped from her mount and handed the reins to the boy. His cheeks turned red, but he stood tall all the same. ‘Mine is Elymiah.’
‘Emyliimeyha,’ he repeated, not quite getting the pronunciation right. She laughed.
As quickly as the laugh had come, it fled without a trace. It was the first time Elymiah had laughed since Robyn—
She cleared her throat and glanced at Coda. He was staring at her silently. The boy touched her sword and seemed to ask a question, but Elymiah didn’t understand. She was confident he wouldn’t understand her foreign language.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a crown of white. She turned and saw a woman well past her prime hunched over in a rocking chair. The old crone held a crooked cane in her lap, and her eyes were slanted to the point that they seemed closed. The one thing that stood out to Elymiah, other than the old woman’s bright white hair, which contrasted her dark skin, was the toothless laugh coming from her lips. Elymiah shivered as the laugh reached her ears.
‘Come, sparrow. You have a lord to speak to,’ said Coda, shaking Elymiah’s gaze from the old woman.
Elymiah patted the boy’s head and smiled. The boy’s face lit up. She turned to the rustic castle and followed Coda up the stairs. She looked back, but the old woman was no longer there.
Rounded mud-and-stone steps rose up to the archway entrance of the keep. If the longboats indeed were to ever sail the waters, they would make a massive fleet in and of themselves. Twelve men in armour and spears stood in the blinding light and blistering heat, standing guard before the gigantic wooden keep doors. As they recognised their messenger, they opened a tall red door, allowing Elymiah and Coda to enter. The guards smelt of sweat and boiled leather. Elymiah squinted from the reflection of sunlight off their armour as she passed. The smell of burning incense inside the keep contrasted the pungent smell outside, and it was markedly cooler than outside. Elymiah sighed as she wiped the sweat from her brow.
The floor of the keep wasn’t made of stone and dirt like she had expected, but of thick, polished oak slabs. Her footfalls were silent, as were Coda’s. A red carpet led them into the grand hall. On the edges of the hall stood a dozen armoured guards. At one table sat six men with broad pauldrons and chestplates too thick to be called armour. Elymiah gasped internally as she approached and took a closer look. Their grey circular shoulderplates extended above the tops of their heads. Their armour looked as if it had been chiselled from large boulders. Elymiah had never seen armour like it in her life. She thought it must be difficult to see to their sides without turning their torsos. Even so, their heads turned in unison as she approached them, and they frowned. Elymiah realised they were probably the king’s guard.