"There were twenty dead. No blood spilled, not a sign of a fight. Aeyen… we need answers now," Blond haired woman fixed her eyes on the young man across from her. "Damn it Aeyen! Speak!" She struck the table with her fist. The crack, that should've drawn attention, didn't even make one head turn. I didn't look either, I didn't even flitch. Just sipped my wine, eyes glued forward.
A little down to my left, four figures occupied the table – three men and a woman. Erdonal military. Their uniforms matched the Lady Fairton's soldier's. Black tunics, leather belts biting tight and trousers tucked into the long boots. This was the closest I'd ever come to the soldiers of this rank, at least not since that one visit of theirs at Midswick a long time ago. I couldn't help but wonder if they knew the ones that took my mother away, if their paths have ever crossed and have they ever seen her.
One of the soldiers was busy with the waitress, murmuring something that made her roll her eyes as she topped off his drink. The other pair with the blond haired woman seemed to be in a tense discussion. Their voices thick with a South Erdonal accent, I could only grasp fragments and yet I turned subtly towards them.
"If we don't find out who did this or who might be at blame, we'll be the ones who will be framed for this. Do you understand that, boy?" The fatter man with a short beard snapped, taking a drink into his hand.
"Something. Aeyen, we need something. If we don't give names, then Greyhound will send the other team to investigate and then our heads will be severed for misreporting and hiding the evidence. It will not be taken lightly," The woman hissed. "Do you understand what's at stake, especially in these times?" She cupped her hand around her mouth.
"What did you see?" She pressed closer. Aeyen's hand crept into his neck, he lowered his gaze with slow reluctance.
"I'm not sure you're ready to hear it, Captain." He answered in the brittle whisper.
"GODS! AEYEN!" The short bearded man's hand lashed out, grabbing the loose fabric of the boy's shirt and yanking it closer. "Do you know what will happen to your dear mother and sister, when the Greyhound finds out that we lost the entire squad that was sent to investigate deaths in the village?" Aeyen's only answer was the rough gulp.
My throat tightened also. The Greyhound. Again, that name. I heard it before, but last time it was spoken it carried horror, it was not said lightly. They called him other names as well, like – the Beheader, or the Shadow. Not just feared. Not just cruel. Hunted by kings, whispered about by generals, cursed in prayers. Otto the Greyhound was the most feared Lord Commander of Erdonal, King Aslan's personal advisor and the general of the Darian army.
"There was…there was…" Aeyen's voice whimpered. "There was magic there…" He said it without blinking. The soldiers exchanged looks of disappointment.
"Stop talking nonsense boy! You and your fables will get us all killed." The woman hissed through her teeth.
"Then explain to me the rune signs, captain? Or the revolting smell of moisture and mold, in a place that had not seen rain in centuries, that's surrounded by ice and rocks." He leaned back in his chair. "Explain to me this…captain, how come the bodies we found had not a single drop of blood on them? This can be explained in only one way…the dark magic is gathering followers. Haven't you read the books? How did it all start last time? "
The short bearded man lit up a long cigar and shoved it in between his teeth, exhaling a stream of smoke that curled straight into Aeyen's face.
"It couldn't have been anyone else, but you know who. It's clear as day, that the dark times are coming again." Aeyen said, ignoring the smoke drifting right in front of him.
The short bearded man waved Aeyen off. "Ahhh stop it you, with your grannies nighttime stories!"
"Well what else could explain it all?" Aeyen asked.
"You saw that little boy running away, and you spoke to the boy. So what did he say? You paled after he run off…There's something you're hiding Aeyen, and–"
"– Oh, stop it you two! The speculations won't get us anywhere," The woman scoffed.
They sat in silence for a second.
"Rumor has it, a seer is coming to Olghir tonight." The woman said calmly in a whisper.
The short bearded man just rolled his eyes. "Seer? Are you serious?"
"It's worth checking out. We have no clue what happened to the village, but Aeyen's speculations. At the same time we could inquire about those runes on wood and for goodness sake bury the crazy idea of…." She leaned it closer, as if for someone to hear it. "Of dark magic."
All four soldiers exchanged glances with silent agreement.
I didn't turn. Kept my gaze forward. I'd heard it all before – villages being destroyed, bloodless bodies and peculiar signs left on the doors, it was all echoes of the rumours that Erdonal was gathering an army. And Erdonal was the one behind it. Wasn't it? It was their blades behind the murders, but now it felt like the whole thing got tangled in my head, like I was missing an important piece of the puzzle.
The moment another barmaid approached, their words about dark magic died. Yet again, their masks slid back on and the smug confidence I could sense from behind me settled back in their bones. They raised their drinks and pretended to fill the silence with some empty laughter and pointless chatter about the difference between Frost Cap and Pixy Parsnip.
The seer they mentioned, might as well be my destination for tonight, whether Daniel liked it or not. I had to get some answers, my sleep over the past month had split me open. Each night I wake up with nightmares ripping through me. Mostly about the people I've never met and situations I've never been in. Even when my powers are slipping, flaring out of control each time I feel anger. Every day I have to hold them back, feeling like I am playing with fire. The seer's help couldn't do any damage. I needed something, a potion, maybe tea steeped in something strange, maybe a ritual, maybe a lie wrapped pretty enough to cling to or maybe she'd tell me that I was crazy and that I was losing my mind. That my nightmares weren't real and no one is coming for me. That I'd made it all up. Deep down, I hoped for the last one. That it was just me. Just my head. Nothing else. But at this point I didn't care what solution she would offer me. I just needed her. Olghir wasn't far. Ten minutes. It was more of a grim pitstop along the dark road that from the first glance looked like a haven, but was a nest for evil.
A hiccup, sharp and jarring, snapped beside me against the steady hum of tavern noise. Same sound, the same putrid breath you couldn't wash off, no matter how much soap you used.
"Hi–aaaaaahh."
And then again.
"Hi–aaaahhhh."
I swivelled slowly in my highchair, the wood groaned beneath me and the tavern's firelight caught the rim of a freshly replenished glass. Albert slouched behind the bar delivered a quick wink, and warmth rushed to my cheeks.
Then the air curdled. To my right sprawled the same drunk I met at the entrance of the Dragon's In. Hunched into the shadows, his head lolling and chest heaving, as if the tavern itself vomited him back upright.
"Hi–aaaahhh." The man hiccuped again. That was it.
I pushed myself upright, hand tight on the glass to shove aside, but I froze. Behind me Erdonal soldiers leaned in as another tray of drinks landed before them. Leaving now wasn't an option. Not if I wanted to get to the seer.
"My name is Sam, my Lady." I twisted around slowly. Half-expecting another dead weight. But no, the drunk who'd been slumped on the floor in front of the tavern and was lifeless a second ago, now sat upright, straight-backed spine, as if he'd never passed out at all. Also sipping with deliberate ease an amber liquid like nothing happened.
My mind just blanked.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sam." I replied courteously, still reeling at how a drunkard resurrected himself into a polished gentleman in the space of a breath.
Sam's eyes snapped into focus, sharp enough for someone who'd been drooling on a table a moment ago. "And your name miss?"
"Lyra."
"Does Lyra have a birthplace?" The Erdonal accent was unmistakable, same as the Lady Fairton's soldiers, and same as the crew's behind me. Now his words struck clean, precise, every syllable sharpened and suddenly Sam sat with head held high and with the quiet pride of a scholar.
"Ebonsville." I kept it short. For all I knew, maybe Sam hadn't been drunk at all and the whole performance of the stench, the slump and the slurred words, had been nothing but a bait.
"Ahhh…Ebonsville," He tipped the glass back, draining it of amber liquid like it was nothing more than water. "Stunning scenery you have there, lakes and mountains, some would go as far as to say it's the most beautiful place in Erdonal, isn't it Miss Lyra?" He let out a faint smile.
"That's indeed, the judgement of many." I cocked my head, letting one ear rake through the noise of the tavern, but the Erdonal soldiers continued grinding casually about poisonous plants.
"And what brought you here to Dragon's Den, Miss Lyra?" He narrowed his eyes in curiosity.
"We're making a stop with my aunt, before travelling to the Grey Palace."
Sam smirked. "Your aunt, Lady Fairton, I presume?"
I nodded and smiled back. Sam cocked a brow with smug precision, as though he'd won a charade only he was playing. But he clearly didn't realize that I enjoy games just as much.
"It's been so long since I was at the Grey Palace, it seems like forever. I almost don't remember it at all, has it changed? Have you seen it of late?" I lied through my teeth.
Sam downed the drink in one gulp, then stalled, as if I opened some old wounds.
"I'm afraid times have changed and with them Grey Palace, Miss Lyra. And for the worse, I'm afraid." It burned me to press him for more, but I had to be careful, I had to mask it better. So I disguised my intentions, made my voice soft and carried that polite kind of interest, the kind that pretended that it didn't matter if he answered or not.
"Well, that's so unfortunate to hear. I hope you don't mind me asking, have you visited the Grey Palace?"
Sam just sneered, chugging another amber drink.
"Long long time ago, Miss Lyra. At the time when the young prince was still in his nappies, and before King Aslan brought Darians into his court," His gaze sank into the bottom of the glass, suddenly his mind was caught somewhere far away, while the amber liquid rolled in a slow spiral, chasing itself in circles. "I used to be a merchant, and a bloody good one!" He smirked, his gaze tunneling past me and sinking into the drink. He drifted with it, diving deep, as though that glass contained the very sea he'd once known.
"I had my ship, my crew and my spots and then, just one mistake…and King Aslan couldn't forgive me. I mean how could he, right? The royal Erhan family knows no mercy, they kill empathy at sight. They want one thing – power. And you know, they'll get it, because if not them, Miss Lyra, then who?"
Sam sagged forward, burying his face in his hands. "If I may, Miss Lyra, if you allow me to give you one advice, just one–,"
He cut his eyes to me. "Turn around and leave, tell your auntie you don't feel well, tell her you cannot serve in Grey Palace, tell her you're in a delicate position and must return but Gods please make up a lie and run Miss Lyra. Go back to Ebonsville."
I locked my gaze on him, and for the first time since the conversation started his cognac eyes met mine, sharp and unflinching. I longed to be free of all of this, free of purpose, free of vengeance that was boiling in my blood. I wished to smoke my days away in a cabin somewhere in Xaleon with Daniel and pretend that the evil that killed my parents never existed, pretend the oath was never given and pretend I had a choice. Pretend that the cursed magic coiled under my skin was less restless and less demanding. But could I really flee now and betray everything Roe groomed me for, saved me from death, in order to now perhaps to save myself. So which was greater betrayal? I knew I couldn't. The promise that I gave to myself was like a hunger pulling at my blood, I couldn't loosen that tether.
"What were they like?" I blurted the words.
"Haaaah," Sam exhaled. "I knew them once, I could even say we were friends, but it seems like it was centuries ago. What I knew then will not help you Miss Lyra, times have changed and the palace changed within."
The tavern filled fast, the noise grew louder crashing like a tide until Lady Fairton's table dissolved into the crowd. Dragon's Den seemed hardly the kind of place I'd expect Lady Fairton to stay. Unless that was the point. My pulse kicked, I tilted to the side discreetly while my gaze locked on the soldiers. They hadn't budged, still planted in the same spot, probably with the same discussion.
Sam from his front pocket he drew a thick leather cigar case, the kind that reeked of nobility, and not any kind, but Rasfalian. Too polished, too ornate and had 'lord' written all over it. It didn't belong to him. He flicked the cigar case sliding it towards me. I met his eyes, smiled politely, then shook my head leaving it untouched. Then he flashed a bright matchbox, likely stolen too. He struck a match, fire licking the tip of his cigar before pulling it in slowly, igniting the tip, only to exhale a thick cloud of smoke that curled across the table with smug satisfaction. We sat in silence for a second, until he drowned another drink down the hatch.
"And King Aslan is no longer a friend of mine," He took another puff. "I serve King Rahvi of Isildra now, he's been a good master for me. King Aslan's ways are unknown to me. The politics, the army and the war, I no longer know the man. And the boy is following his footsteps."
"You mean the prince?" Sam nodded in agreement. I knew almost nothing of Prince Ayden. Just the bones of a report: his time in the army, the swordsmanship and his charm with women, especially with the Lord's daughters. The latest picture of him–a boy of twelve, barely a teenager.
"They're scheming something from the shadows, something sinister, something that might as well win them the war," I swallowed the urge to ask more, he would've seen straight through me. "Erdonal is becoming a dangerous place, Miss Lyra, especially the Grey Palace. I wouldn't wish on anyone travelling there especially in winter," Sam's face shifted, he swung his head in my direction. "You do remind me of someone, Miss Lyra…" I froze. But on the outside my face didn't flinch for a second.
"I guess I have one of those faces." I said. Sam continued to stare without saying anything.
He waited, before he spoke again. "You know, Miss Lyra, I believe the second King Aslan gave unlimited power to Darians, that's when it all went downhill. They're brutes, military men through and through, and the worst of them – the Greyhound," Sam shook his head. "Never met anyone so comfortable with death and fear in one flesh. But that's him–the most proud killer of the whole Iritis Khad." He spat on the floor, disgust dripping with the sound of it.
The name burned in me too, but I kept my face blank, listening, carefully not to let it show. Greyhound was my Lord Commander, one of the most important people after the royal family and the true citizen would never critique their master. So I kept my mouth shut.
"Have you ever crossed paths with the Lord Commander Greyhound?" Even saying his name sent shivers down my spine, making my chest heavy to breathe.
"Thankfully no, Miss Lyra. Never in person, thanks to the Gods! But you would have to be buried under the rock if you haven't heard of his crimes," Sam took yet another sip of his drink. "Have you heard the rumour of what they did to one of Isildra's Commanders?"
I shook my head 'no'.
"Greyhound himself not only cut the Commander's head off in front of his family, but then proceeded murdering all the offsprings, wives and even neighbours…leaving not a single relative alive, not even a cousin. After they burned the whole village to the ground…nothing left, just ash," He stared ahead blankly. "But I must agree with your Lord Commander, if you leave one wolf, the sheep will never be safe."
The blood rained from my face. Sam had hit the mark.
I was the wolf that lived and indeed like in Sam's story, it was King Aslan's biggest mistake. I was his ruin and demise. Heat prickled at my fingertips, the rhythm of my heartbeat pounding faster, louder, until it felt like it was trying to break free. I clenched down, refusing to let the finger twitch. If I slipped, the glass would break, the mission gone. My chest heaved once, and then twice, as I forced air in, out. Slowly, reluctantly, the magic withdrew snarling and crawling back inside beneath my skin.
Sam bent in, beaconing me closer, while his head angled away from the crowd.
"I usually keep my personal views on the royal family to myself, especially in an establishment like this," His eyes flickered towards the Erdonal soldiers sitting behind us. "But since you're headed into danger Miss Lyra, be wary of the court. They don't fight fair, they won't stop against anything to win and they're not afraid to spill blood,"
He leaned in closer. "Just as ex-Erdonal to an Erdonal citizen," His finger's curled around another glass of amber liquid that he drained in a single pull. "This little quest of theirs…to find…hi–aaaaahhhh, and the boy…Oh…hi-aaaaahhhh, he's just like the father…power hungry dem…on," His eyes spun. Posture folded and gestures dragged with sluggish crawl. "De…mon who will destroy my beautiful Erd…hi-aaaaahhhhhh."
Almost satirically, Sam convulsed into sobs, shoulders heaving as his mouth trembled with every ragged breath.Tears flooded down his face in a grotesque show, while I had no idea how to handle this. Awkwardly, I reached out, I slid my hand to his, tapped it gently in a clumsy gesture that should've passed as a comfort. The training camp hardened us, trained us to spy, to kill, to disappear into shadows. What they didn't cover was how to comfort a weeping informant.
Sam's head thudded onto the counter, shoulders still jerking with erratic sobs, his face turned away from me as I kept stroking his arm. Then the sobbing fractured into something else – snoring. Thick and bestial, like a creature buried in snow. He sprawled across the wooden table and returned to the same drunken stupor in which I'd first found him.
Brilliant, I thought. My only source of news just passed out.
I spun in my seat, eyes raking the tavern. Their table sat vacant. My gut dropped.
Perfect. Shit.