by J. M. Topp
He felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Rhiannon standing beside him.
‘She’s already dead,’ Rhiannon whispered.
‘No, she’s not!’ Rickert shouted. He put pressure on her throat and began to wrap her neck all the way around. Suddenly, a gigantic serpent burst through the walls of the Chloranthy Terrace Gardens, throwing brick and stone in all directions. The serpent hissed loudly. An elfen riding horseback followed behind him. Rickert recognised his half-cut ear at once.
The elfen behind Rickert ran to hide but were quickly cornered by humans carrying lances.
‘Rickert, what is this?’ asked Rhiannon. ‘Why are there humans here?’
Advocate Estmund brought his horse before Rickert and dismounted, nearly getting his foot caught in the stirrup. ‘My prince, the high primarch has been captured, and the fighting is over.’
‘Help me, Estmund. She needs help!’ said Rickert, holding Rebecca’s neck.
Ayda ran over to her, and Estmund called for a healer. Korhas emerged from behind the broken wall with Hamlin in tow.
‘No, Rebecca!’ screamed Ayda, helping Rickert put pressure on her throat.
‘She needs a healer now!’ said Korhas as he picked a bleeding Rebecca up and ran out of the gardens with Ayda close behind. Rickert looked down at his hands. They were covered in blood, and not all of it was Rebecca’s. He stared at Theyllyn’s headless body lying in the grass.
‘What happened?’ asked Rickert as Advocate Estmund knelt before him.
‘My prince, the Elderleaf Ether has only a limited time of potency. High Primarch Morrenwylf must not have known, because the serpent Ayagi subdued him after a gruelling fight.’
‘Where is Morrenwylf?’
‘He was rushed to the dungeon in irons, to prevent further sorceries.’
‘I want any and all elfen in the attack to be placed in irons and interrogated. Those who had an active role in this treason shall be put to the sword on the spot,’ said Rickert. ‘I want a gallows to be built in the centre square of Felheim immediately.’
‘Yes, my prince.’
‘This bloodshed ends today.’
Family Tradition
THE FIRE CRACKLED, tossing bright yellow embers into the air before Eymeg. Rikfried snored quietly with his back to the fire. He shivered occasionally and whispered the name of a lover or two, holding his crude oddly coloured lute to his chest. Gosfridus huddled beside one of the destriers that had lain on the grass for the night. The steed licked Gosfridus’s hair. Eymeg shook his head as Gosfridus scratched his chin and giggled in his sleep. Crickets chirped in the sprawling fields of wheat and barley surrounding the party, and mosquitoes buzzed around Eymeg’s ears. In the far distance lay the city of Aivaterra. Its giant walls and the towering pinnacles cast a black shadow into the dark blue sky, and all was silent for the time being. It seemed that construction had halted for the hours of the night. They would most likely resume the rebuilding of the wall come the morrow. Eymeg turned his gaze to the tongues of fire lapping at the glowing wood, ignoring the insects around him. The broken halberd lay beside him, firelight dancing along its sharp edge.
‘Why are you a daemon hunter?’ asked Jolien.
Eymeg turned to her, unaware that she had been staring at him. She sat atop a thin blanket on the other side of the small flames. Her knees were close to her chest, and she peered over her crossed arms at him. Her eyes seemed to glow unwaveringly in the light.
Eymeg cleared his throat. ‘What do you mean?’
‘A daemon hunter. Veledred, you called it. Why are you one of them? What does it mean to be a Veledred?’
Eymeg half smiled but then looked back into the fire, his smile fading from his face. ‘I’m not really one of them anymore.’
‘So you keep saying.’ Jolien sniffed.
‘I suppose you would like to hear the story?’
‘I don’t really care,’ said Jolien. ‘I want to know what it means to be Veledred, a daemon hunter. Why did you do what you did?’
‘I would have thought our name obvious. We are an order that was founded during the First Age of Fog. Our cause was to hunt down and kill any daemons terrorising the land.’
Jolien turned her head slightly. ‘The age ended, though, didn’t it? And with it, the need for Veledred.’
‘Not exactly. The First Age of Fog didn’t end, not really. The armies of the daemons were vanquished and run off to the east across the Fog Sea, that much is true. But the first Harmony of the Apostles failed. The flow of daemons into our lands lessened. So much so that it was indeed believed to be over. The ranks of Veledred began to wane as hunters were killed or retired. As time moved on, the need for daemon hunters grew less and less. New recruits weren’t sought out because funds to keep Karagh Muín afloat were running thin. In truth, it was like the calm before the storm. I tried to warn our castellan, but he is a proud prick. Listens to very little other than his own intuition.’
‘But why you?’ Jolien’s eyes became thin slits as she glared at Eymeg.
He turned his head slowly. ‘What?’
She frowned. ‘You are a loathsome evil man, little better than a cutthroat. Why are you in the ranks of these daemon hunters?’
‘I told you already, I am not anymore,’ said Eymeg with a soft chuckle. ‘I was banished from Karagh Muín. I disobeyed my father’s command to remain in Alder Isle in order to look for my daughter in the north. Tiebalt followed me only because he is a faithful friend and begged the castellan permission to assist me as far as needed. He insisted so bravely, and Tiebalt’s talents are too invaluable to the Veledred to be banished, Zigi had no choice but to grant his wish. I don’t deserve a friend like Tiebalt.’
Jolien looked away, off into the distance.
‘I suppose you’re angry with me…for killing those men in Floddenvale?’ Eymeg let out a heavy sigh.
‘Your daughter, what is her name?’ asked Jolien, ignoring the question.
‘I named her Aydalyyn.’
‘An elfen?’
‘Half-elfen. You are familiar with elfen naming customs?’
‘A little,’ Jolien said with a fond smile of remembrance. ‘My husband Rowan used to like to hear stories from travelling merchants about elfen. He would carve out the most beautiful pieces from Honey Rosewood trees and say they represented elfen lords and ladies. Not only that, but he was a very talented painter. We would travel to Flodden markets and sell his baubles at reasonable prices. It was a career he was thinking about taking up over farming, seeing as he was actually making a profit from them. He said he even met an elfen there once. I didn’t believe him though. What would an elfen be doing in Flodden, of all places? The elfen were supposed to be no more than a myth.’ Jolien turned back to Eymeg. ‘Your wife, she was an elf?’
‘She wasn’t my wife,’ said Eymeg, shaking his head. He paused for a moment. ‘She wasn’t entirely elfen either. She was a…daemon.’
Jolien’s back stiffened visibly at that. ‘How? Aren’t you supposed to—’
‘Kill daemons? Yes, I am. Yet another reason that I was banished. Zigi knew but kept quiet until the opportune time to kick me out.’
‘No, I mean aren’t daemons really obvious to humankind?’
‘With a few simple spells, she was able to disguise her ashen skin and her jagged teeth. Underneath it all, I saw something special. She was named Sahrya. The most beautiful creature I ever saw in my life. She had this particular head nod when she would look at you and smile. It was a mischievous kind of grin. Her laugh was very unique. Even in crowds, I could pinpoint where she was just by the beautiful sound.’
‘Sounds like you were in love,’ whispered Jolien.
‘I was. Six years ago, I was given permission to retire my daemon hunting ways. We purchased a nice house in Alder Isle and lived there together for a few years. I would help Baron Wylfesmer with hunting the local thieves and assist in the plot for his claim to the country. But just when I thought I would never be f
ound out, Artus discovered Sahyra for who she was. A daemon. I had to let her go.’ Eymeg stared at the fire. ‘Trouble is, I lost her way before then. Something happened to us, but I was blind to it. You see, Baron Wylfesmer is obsessed with two things: money and magic, in that order. He saw the potential Sahrya possessed, and he used her and began to experiment with dark magic. She became strong in dark magical arts. One day I asked her about it, and I realised a rift had grown between us. Sahrya walked out the door, but just before she did, she asked me one question. She asked if I wanted her to stay. She was willing to turn her back on the baron if only I said yes.’
Jolien hesitated. ‘What did you say?’
‘I didn’t say anything.’ Eymeg paused and bit his tongue, but not hard enough. ‘I have faced daemons countless times ever since I was a child, hulking, ravenous beasts with intricate horns and terrible jaws, yet I do not remember ever feeling as panicked as then—when Sahrya asked me that question. My pulse raced, and my heart seemed like it would beat out of my chest, but my tongue wouldn’t move, and my lips were frozen shut. No matter how bad I wanted to tell her to stay—no matter how bad I wanted to say that I would do anything just to be at her side. Sometimes, I dream and see her sitting beside me in a field as we used to when we first met. I suppose it’s the life I would have had if I had chosen differently. I even tell her I love her in those dreams. She looks at me, stands up, and leaves me alone each and every time in that field. I remain there, powerless to move. Some say time heals all wounds. Those people have never experienced true pain. The scar may fade, but its sting is just as sharp as the first time I felt it.’
The fire spat a hiss of ashes out into the air as a piece of log fell deeper into the blaze. Eymeg bit his lip as the memories of that moment rushed back at him. He smiled and looked down at his boots.
‘Where is she now?’ asked Jolien.
‘Dead. I journeyed to Alder Isle and saw her in Mór Nardvyk market square, but she didn’t see me. She seemed happy, with her hand tucked inside the arms of another man. I wanted to kill him, but I only had enough strength then to return home and drink myself to sleep. I then learned that Artus had found out about Sahrya and her magic and influence. I was banned from Karagh Muín for my fraternization with dark magic, and a kill strike was ordered against her. It was only a matter of time before Baron Wylfesmer caught wind of the kill strike and the large bounty against Sahrya. You see, the baron cared about her magic but when he found out just how much money the kill strike was attached to, he immediately turned his back on her. He had her captured and tortured her with hot irons and pincers that stripped skin. I still don’t understand why he did that. As it turned out, she had no information. I can’t imagine her last hours alive. When I found where she was being kept, Tiebalt and I broke into the prison to try and save her, but she had been tortured too badly. I slit her throat in a gesture of mercy. The daemon army then landed, so I ran from Alder Isle to find my daughter.’
‘You had a daughter with this Sahrya?’ asked Jolien, a look of incredulity in her eyes.
‘Aye,’ said Eymeg. ‘But Sahrya hated little Ayda. The moment she cast eyes on our daughter being pulled from her body, she hissed and kicked, calling the crying babe cursed. That’s the danger of bedding a daemon as a human. The odds were astronomical that we would have a half-daemon half-elfen child born to us, yet there she was in my arms, with one ear rounded and the other pointed. I think her dabbling in daemonic magic had something to do with it. I had to have the baby sent away to a blind elf in Duren.’
‘Duren is an evil place, even worse than Flodden,’ muttered Jolien.
‘I didn’t know that. Duren wasn’t a place I had to visit often. I wanted to make Sahrya happy. She was never fully happy though, not after the birth of our child. Now all I want to do is find my daughter, but something tells me I will never lay eyes on her again either.’ Eymeg sighed. He bit his lip and looked back at the fire.
Jolien closed her eyes and sighed much in the same manner Eymeg had. ‘I am mad at you—or was. Now I can’t help but feel sorry for you. What Sahrya went through because of you must have been the worst hell anyone could go through. The burden you carry must be heavy, and it must weigh you down even further to know that most of it was done by your own hand.’ Jolien picked herself up and brushed dust off of herself. ‘In a way, I am glad you didn’t find your daughter. It would be a shame for her to find out her father was someone like you.’
Eymeg watched as Jolien walked off into the prairie. Moonlight accentuated the outline of her body, and he saw her sit down in the field with her back turned to him. Rikfried coughed in his sleep and scratched his chin. Eymeg stood up and kicked him, waking him from his slumber.
‘No, I swear—she came onto me!’ he shouted, wide-eyed, with his hands in the air. ‘Oh, Eymeg. It’s you. You gave me quite a fright.’
‘It’s quite all right,’ said Eymeg, rolling his eyes. ‘The sun will be up in a moment. We need to get a move on and find a way into Aivaterra.’
‘Where’s fire-spitter?’ asked Rikfried as he rubbed sleep from his eyes, looking for Jolien.
Eymeg looked over the prairie and saw Jolien’s outline in the yellow dawning sun.
‘She really doesn’t like you, does she?’ asked Rikfried.
‘No, she really doesn’t.’
HOWLING WIND BLEW in from the east, and rain sprayed from the cloudy sky sporadically. It was tornado season in the Khahadran. The winds would only devolve into harsher and rougher torrents of rain and gales. The fierce breeze ruffled Eymeg’s cloak back and forth. He loosened the clasp on his neck and put the hood over his head. The sun had come up, but only grey clouds hung like dark curtains over the sky. It was perfect for them though, as they would be hard to identify in such low grey light. Jolien sat in the saddle behind Eymeg as his thoroughbred trotted along the wet road at a brisk pace, kicking up clods of mud. Rikfried took the lead, carefully eyeing the road ahead of them, or at least pretending to, and chewing on a stem of wheat. Gosfridus rode silently with Rikfried, reciting prayers and making odd signs over his chest with his fingers. Eymeg put a hand over his eyes and squinted into the distance. The grand city of Aivaterra stood on the horizon. As the horses drew closer, Eymeg could see spiraling wooden supports surrounding the walls of the city. Carts pulled by donkeys and oxen were loaded with large white stones. Hundreds of workers milled around the walls, some of them applying plaster to allow for the quick setting of stone on stone, and others were looking at blueprints and maps of the city. There were two walls surrounding the great city of Aivaterra. One was a stone wall only four feet high, and the other, a few paces farther in, was more than twenty feet high. Eymeg saw a trail of oxcarts entering the city from the east. Alder Isle had sent aid for the reconstruction of Aivaterra, or so it seemed. The echoes of hammer slamming on nail and stone echoed over the plains.
Rikfried pushed Gosfridus off his horse making him fall with a sickening thud. He slapped the reins racing of his mount and raced ahead of them.
‘Hey? What the—’ began Eymeg.
‘You are a branded murderer. I’m sure news of your actions has already reached this city,’ said Rikfried as he waved. ‘I wouldn’t want to be branded same as you. Cheers!’ The balladeer raced onward, well past Eymeg and Jolien. Gosfridus picked himself up and, after shaking the momentary bewilderment and dust off his clothes, glanced up at Eymeg. ‘What is he talking about?’
Eymeg shook his head and Jolien nudged his elbow. ‘He’s not wrong,’ she said, staring at him. ‘Maybe entering the city through the main gates isn’t such a good idea, ’Meg.’
‘Oh? And what are you still doing here?’ Eymeg frowned.
‘I’ve asked myself the same thing time and time again,’ said Jolien. ‘Maybe I want to see this to the end, Veledred.’
Eymeg chewed his lip and looked at Rikfried as he began to grow smaller and smaller in the distance.
‘He’s right. The local officials probably already know abo
ut you. It won’t do to go through the main gates,’ said Jolien. ‘We could sneak in. I heard the walls were entirely destroyed during an invasion. It wouldn’t be hard to break in through one of those holes.’
‘We would have to wait for nightfall,’ said Eymeg. Even in the low light, it still was too risky to try and climb the walls. They would be seen by a patrol and captured.
‘Aye,’ said Jolien as she heaved herself off Eymeg’s horse. She sighed. ‘Come, I know you haven’t slept in days.’ Eymeg stared at her as she grabbed Vos by the bit and led her off the path.
JOLIEN WAS RIGHT. Eymeg hadn’t slept—or at least he hadn’t slept well—in days. She gave him some of the herbs she had in her sack. Avolutia she called it. She said that Rowan had suffered from insomnia but would sleep well once he took the herb. Eymeg hesitated to take the avolutia, but he realised how tired he was. For the first time in months, he set his head on his thoroughbred’s saddle and immediately felt a weight of relief. Perhaps like this, he could finally rest.
Water, the temperature of the highest peak of the Cairn of Winter splashed over him, kicking him up from his thoughts instantly. He threw his fists up, searching for an enemy, but the only thing he saw was Jolien, holding a rusted steel pail with a satisfied look on her face. Gosfridus chuckled quietly behind them.
‘It’s time, Eymeg,’ she said, turning her back on him. ‘That was for the river bath, asshole.’ She threw the pail onto the ground beside him.
‘You’re insane, woman!’ Eymeg shouted, shivering incessantly. The winds were blowing loudly through the plains, only increasing the intense cold of the water dripping from his body. ‘Where did you even find a pail?’
Jolien spat on the ground. The moon was up, shining over the golden fields of Aivaterra. The sporadic rains had ceased for the moment at the very least, but the wind was churning in the sky. The clanging of hammers and the rustling of carts had ceased once more for the day, and only insects and far-off coyotes sang in the eventide.