1
"So, King Raynardt paid him to keep quiet? About what? What could the merchant have known?" asked Aylard.
"Oh, any number of things," Lenah said. "Lots of games were being played back then, what with the rebellion and the succession of power in question. I remember, it was the spring of that year when the humans really began becoming intolerant of witches and mythics. I had to go to ask that brat and ask for his seal. It was embarrassing. Urgh, I hope I don't catch anything. These mosquitos are a menace."
"It was because of Westmire," Tiphaine murmured.
"Yes, come to think of it, that did happen around the same time, didn't it? The city of statues. Right, I remember the fishermen complaining back then. First, they complained because our idiot king married a commoner and got killed by his brother, and then Westmire happened, like divine punishment. They say everyone in the city was turned to stone. A troupe of angry… well, you know," said Aylard.
Tiphaine slithered around uncomfortably as they walked through the mud along rotting wooden beams. "Don't be nice about it for my sake. It wasn't a troupe of lamias, it was all—"
"Very unfortunate," Lenah interrupted. "But what they don't tell you is that soon after, people from all over began to flock to Westmire to gawk at it. First came the curious, then came the thieves. Of course, if an entire city's worth of people is suddenly turned to stone, naturally, people will come to steal their things, but you know something interesting? None of the jewelry the people there owned was as valuable as they were. The poor petrified sods were sold all over Evaria for truly exorbitant sums of gold and silver."
"Yeah," Emony murmured to himself. "That's why… never mind."
He couldn't do a thing to stop what had happened, young and ignorant as he had been back then. He hadn't met Lenah and learned about ravenwood yet. By the time he did, it was far too late…
Too late for what?
He shook his head.
What was I just thinking about?
"We went there together, to Westmire, remember, Emony?" Tiphaine asked. "After we buried my parents."
That's right, we did. I wanted to see my home one more time, and my parents—
Suddenly, the thought escaped Emony, leaving him staring at Tiphaine in utter confusion. Why had they gone there? She certainly wouldn't have wanted to go. Why would he have?
"What's going on?" he asked, suddenly shuddering. Why was he suddenly feeling so cold?
"Is something wrong?" Tiphaine asked.
"I don't know," he said. His mind was racing and he had no idea why. He'd forgotten something, he knew, but he had no idea what it was. He turned towards Lenah. Perhaps she could help.
The witch was staring at him in horror.
"What's going on, Lenah? Are you in my head?" he asked. "Fix me, if you are."
Slowly, with an expression of deep unhappiness, she shook her head. "I can't. I made you a promise, Emony."
Suddenly, Emony's head began to explode with pain. Lenah's eyes began to glow, and blue sparks began sizzling off her in every direction.
"Lenah, what's going on?!" Tiphaine cried.
"I'm sorry! All of you, forget—"
"—Yeah, that's why… Do you remember, Tiphaine? For a time, we roamed the countryside, sticking ravenwood in every statue we could find. I don't think we ever managed to get to anyone in time, though," Emony said.
"Ravenwood?" asked Aylard.
"It's wood from a special tree, full of dark magic," Lenah explained.
Why did I mention it in front of him? Emony thought. But it was too late to take it back now.
In any case, they had wasted their time back then. After about a week of something being petrified, ravenwood stopped working. He'd had Tiphaine help him experiment to figure that out later on in Aeliah, using rabbits. Although, Lenah did say that, true to the ignorant human guideline of "Kill the caster, break the curse", when Tiphaine died, everything she petrified would be freed. So one day, a lot of humans would end up finding their expensive statues running away from them.
"Anyway, if King Raynardt is involved, he may know something," Lenah continued, a look of unhappiness on her face. "We should go and ask him before many more people die by the hand of that other crazy king. For now, it seems like all roads lead to…"
"Just as that crazy king said. Terrena."
They made it out of the marshes by nightfall, deciding to make camp before continuing to the shack the next day, which they would use to teleport to Terrena with Lenah's absolutely incredible, magnificent power, which she would graciously use, showing off her glorious—
"Thank you, Emony," Lenah said. "That's quite enough – you don't have to insert sarcasm into everything you say. I can feel that you're grateful."
"I don't know what you're talking about, I didn't even say anything. Perhaps it's your own thoughts that you're hearing right now?"
"Be quiet, I'm trying to sleep," mumbled Tiphaine. "It's hard enough doing it with my veil on."
"Fair enough, then I'll watch over you guys for a while. I can't sleep with all these mosquitos. Tiphaine, get your tail off of me, you can wrap yourself around Lenah tonight."
"Aylard's already on watch…"
"Even better. I won't be bored."
He couldn't trust him anyway. For some reason, his paranoia was back and stronger than ever. He gently unwrapped Lenah's tail from his legs, waist and chest and left the tent, walking over to the human that was sitting on a rock, watching the nearby river quickly flow past them in the bright moonlight. The man's ears, at least, were pointed in the right direction for a watchman – he noticed him approach.
"Not tired?" Aylard asked, yawning.
"Not at all. How are you passing the time?"
"I'm just wondering what might be going on back in Coldbarrow. It's a full moon tonight."
Emony glanced up at the moon. He hadn't even noticed it until then – something he wasn't used to. As a werewolf, he was always acutely aware of the lunar cycles. He felt no urge at all to transform and howl at it. That was a shame.
"Ah, well… so, what do you think is going on?"
"Death, unfortunately. The men of the lake never left us alone for more than a day or two between their attacks."
Emony stretched his tired legs. "You know, I think they might have, this time."
"You think they stopped killing people?"
"Oh, no, no. I just think they might have stopped killing your people."
"Ha… And would you tell me if I asked why? I didn't think so. You know, I found it strange – that the men of the lake mostly refrained from killing the villagers. We'd heard that they were terrorizing them when we arrived, but they never outright killed almost any of them, though they obviously could have wiped them out. Us, on the other hand… They lifted their rusted swords against us the first day we arrived. So, they must see something different in us. They possess an intelligence of some sort. I imagine they might just be a bit like me in one aspect. They're serving their king."
Emony flashed a smile at the human's pointed look. "Did you deduce that all on your own, or was it a result of your eavesdropping?"
He shrugged. "Everyone listens in occasionally when their friends are talking right in front of them and they're left out of the conversation. Can you really blame me? You do keep an annoyingly large number of secrets."
"For good reason, human. Hey, do you remember that time in Garrick's house, when I told you to stop asking questions?"
"When you said you'd slit my throat if I didn't? I remember. Is it time for that?"
"Maybe it is," Emony said, discreetly tensing his hand, daring the human to make the first move. Aylard didn't move a muscle.
A minute later, he found himself slightly disappointed. He could have used a little bout of violence. It'd been too long since the last one.
"You know, I've seen you kidding around with Tiphaine all those times, manipulating her into telling you things. You control yourself well, but your eyes, they speak the truth. You're afraid of her. And of Lenah, and of me."
He shrugged, not denying it. "You of all people would recognize fear, wouldn't you? I heard you've inspired quite a bit of it in your life."
Emony smiled and opened his waterskin, taking a drink before offering it to the human.
"What, did Tiphaine tell you?"
"Not outright," Aylard laughed, a little too loudly, as Emony's not-yet-sleeping, favorite companion complained about it.
"Sorry! So, anyway, you're not howling at the moon right now?" Aylard asked.
"Nope."
"How come? Is the witch keeping the wolf at bay?"
He rolled his eyes. "With all of her black magic. Idiot, not all magic is black."
The human glanced at him again, wiping his mouth and handing the waterskin back to him.
"It is, as far as I'm concerned. I've never seen a single good thing come of any of it. What do you say is the difference?"
"Black magic is bad. Dark magic is less so. Regular magic is neutral."
"The witch mentioned earlier that ravenwood harbors dark magic. And though you and Tiphaine covered the villagers' eyes while you were bringing them back to life, quite a few later reported that you stuck something like tree bark into their mouths. So that would have been dark magic, reviving them?"
"You really should stop asking questions."
"Well, allow me a few more, and I'll answer one of yours. One you haven't even thought of asking."
"As if I could trust a word you say," Emony said, shaking his head, "or you knew anything I didn't. But go ahead, ask away."
"Does ravenwood revive people that have been petrified?" Aylard asked.
"Sometimes."
"Did Tiphaine cause the tragedy at Westmire?"
"Obviously. At any given time, there is only one lamia in the world cursed with the Eyes, and that's been her for the past nine cycles."
"Are you originally from Westmire?"
Emony blinked, disconcerted for a moment, and gazed at the moon's reflection in the river.
"Why would you ask me that?" he inquired.
"I'll take that as a yes. I've recently found out that a large enough quantity of silver can protect a human from a witch's curses."
"Interesting. Well, the answer is no," Emony said, narrowing his eyes. "I've never been to Westmire. But you really do know too much."
"You might not want to trust your blue-haired friend quite so fully. Do you know what she's capable of?" Aylard said.
"Just about anything. Mass destruction, ritual sacrifice, suspending a soul between life and death…"
"Messing with your mind," Aylard added.
Obviously, Emony thought, remembering how being turned into a fish had changed him.
"I wonder what I should reveal…" the human continued. "But you know, in case you're only still listening to me because you plan to silence me forever, I should tell you that if you do so, the king of Evaria will be told a truly awful story about a monstrous snake that turns people to stone. Also, that killing her would bring thousands of petrified citizens back to life."
"I did notice you talking to all those strangers. You didn't really use the word "monstrous", did you? Tiphaine would be so upset," he replied.
"No, I didn't. I said her human-looking bit was the prettiest in the world."
Emony laughed. Well, that was probably true.
"So? What if I don't take your sword and scramble your innards? What happens then?"
"I don't really know. I suppose I'll keep following you around, so long as we're on the same side."
Emony burst out laughing. "Ha! All this eavesdropping and scheming, and you think we're on your side?! I have thoroughly overestimated you, human!"
"Emony!" shouted a sleepy Tiphaine from the tent. He glanced back over at her. Her tail was already wrapped a couple times around Lenah, the nearest source of warmth. He could see the quietly snoring witch had deployed a protection spell to avoid suffocating.
"Sorry!" he called back before lowering his tone again and speaking to the human.
"Okay, but seriously – yes, we share a common goal right now, but we are far from being allies. Your thoughts regarding magic, though ignorant, have merit. The differences between us are quite unreconcilable."
"Why is that?" Aylard asked quietly.
"Because I know what you humans are truly like," Emony growled, a vivid memory of his slaughtered parents entering his mind. Angrily, he stood up and walked a few feet away from the human before he took his rage out on him. "You're vicious, bigoted killers, the whole lot of you, and I'll have no trouble watching the king of the lake slaughter you all."
"Then why are you working against him?" Aylard asked.
"I don't recall ever saying I was doing that. You know something, Aylard? You're not very useful to me here. I'd feel a lot better if you were gone, so I'm going to tell you something to make you leave. Recently, Palehome has been wiped off the map."
"What?"
That finally got a reaction.
Emony tensed his hands again. "As I said. Palehome is gone. Everyone there is dead. The king of the lake wanted more soldiers."
The human glared towards the ground, unease and anger clear on his face. "Palehome… You knew it was going to happen, didn't you? The knight commander said you mentioned it before you left, but you didn't say why. You let those people die."
"That's right."
The disgust became ever clearer on Aylard's face. Suddenly, he unsheathed his blade, swinging it through the air and pointing it at him.
"Quietly! Remember, they're trying to sleep!" Emony laughed, hopping away.
"Why didn't you say anything?!" Aylard snarled. "They could have been evacuated!"
"Lenah, if you can hear me, put Tiphaine to sleep," he said, ignoring him. "She doesn't need to see or hear this."
"More black magic? What are you after?!"
"There it is, the "black" magic again. All I want is to break a couple of curses."
"What curses? The king's?! The one in the lake?!"
Emony shook his head, watching Lenah run out of the tent towards them. So much for all that snoring. "Stop this, you two! Aylard, you don't understand!" she shouted.
The human pointed his sword towards her. "You knew too, didn't you? You can read our minds, you had to have!"
"She did," Emony admitted. "Though, if anyone is, it's her that's on your side."
"Am I supposed to believe that?"
He shrugged. "Or we could try to kill each other."
Emony studied the human's face. The muscles in his cheeks were tensing. He was definitely going to attack, furious as he was. He smiled.
And he was right.
Emony jumped to the side, avoiding the sword that came slicing through the air towards him, and spun swiftly in a pirouette. The human followed him with his blade, slashing the air, trying to reach his chest. Really, it was more difficult than he'd thought it'd be to dodge the blows, a consequence of him no longer being a werewolf.
The clean steel reached within a hair's length of him as he jumped away again, laughing all the while as the wind ruffled his hair. He liked a challenge. The steel flashed in the moonlight at least twenty times while Lenah kept shouting at them to stop. She wasn't using her magic to force them to do so though, so he took that to mean she actually approved.
"Haha, feel like you can hit me, human?"
Aylard was already panting, tired by the movement and weight of his sword. "You're slower than I thought you'd be," he growled, before striking again.
Emony took a quick step back, avoiding the blade, then suddenly surged forward, crashing into the human's chest with his shoulder, knocking him to the ground and gracefully taking the weapon for himself. Then it was he who stopped it before the other's chest. Aylard, looking impossibly shocked, surrendered.
With a smile, Emony planted the sword into the ground between the man's legs.
"That was fun. Not bad for such a fragile little form of life. How would you like to be a hero?"
"I'm done listening to you monsters."
"Oh, come on, don't you want to save human lives? I'm giving you the opportunity to do so."
"To do what?" he asked.
"Palehome was only the first. If we fail our mission in Terrena, if we don't find Imarah there, the king will want to search for her himself. He'll want more soldiers to help him do so. My guess is he'll attack every settlement north of Coldbarrow except Gull's Landing."
Aylard got up from the ground, retrieving his sword, and after a moment of staring at him in suspicion, he laid it to rest in his scabbard. "How do you know any of this?"
"It's true, Aylard," Lenah said, coming over to them and looking them over for injuries. "Trust me, it's true."
"Trust a witch? You've got to be joking. Only an hour ago, I saw you get burned by the touch of Tiphaine's silver ring. Then you did something to their minds, making them forget something! It's clear you possess dark magic."
Emony raised an eyebrow at Lenah.
She ignored him. "You know?! Were you faking… Well… Yeah, I do have dark magic, and lots of it! I've got the black kind, too, but that doesn't mean I'm evil! Life is worth protecting."
"Tell that to the people of Palehome."
"They were already lost. The king is too strong, Aylard. I don't think any of us can beat him right now. Until we build up our strength, we have to give him what he wants."
"You want me to serve the undead?! I'd sooner die!"
"A poor choice of words," Emony snorted. "I can help you with that as soon as you like. Look, for Tiphaine's sake, forget the big picture. Lenah can send you back to Coldbarrow tomorrow. Try to get the northerners to run for their lives. Or, if you want, save yourself. Go south. It's your choice. Just… leave."
2
Aylard
He was doing just that, angrily walking through the dim light along the river, away from the three monsters, when they came. The full moon was lighting his way, but his eyes were not as sensitive as theirs likely were – he had trouble seeing far into the distance. The best he could do was avoid trees and fences that appeared in his way.
For that reason, he heard the horsemen before he saw them. There were two of them, he could just barely make out their shapes in the darkness. He couldn't hear any sort of armor clanking around as they moved, but he saw the glint of spear points in the moonlight just in front of the black poles they held.
"Well, well, a lone merchant," the first of the two said, the larger of the two shapes. As he approached. Aylard let his horse blindly trot closer to him. He got the rotten feeling that his fear was about to be confirmed – that they were bandits. It was thoroughly ironic, being in more danger now that he had left the witch, the werewolf and the lamia cursed with the Eyes.
"Good evening," he said loudly, giving up on hiding and instead pretending that he could be trying to alert others of their presence.
Could I be, though? Would any of them come for me? he foolishly thought.
"Peasant," continued the larger silhouette, "I'll have you pay me for the protection I offer. Without me, there's no way you'll reach Terrena safely."
The smaller of the two horsemen sniggered.
"I'm very grateful for your protection!" he declared. "I was afraid I might have lost my way! Are you a knight? I'm afraid I don't have much on me at this very moment, but—"
"Shut it. Everyone knows people only travel by night when they've got something to hide. Whatever it is, it's mine now. Give it to me."
"I honestly don't have anything on me. Here, I'm emptying my pockets. My companions are further down the river, I left my silver with them."
The smaller brigand spat at his feet contemptuously. He could hear it.
"Buying yourself a few minutes to run, little man? I see your sword. I'll be taking it now, unless you want to try using it."
The larger man's spear poked his chest.
Given how easily Emony had beaten him earlier, he realized he obviously wasn't the warrior he'd thought he was. Still, the brigands would likely kill him anyway, right after he handed them the sword, and then dump his body into the river.
On the other hand, maybe he could reach the water alive.
"As you wish, good sir!" he exclaimed, slowly unsheathing his blade and gingerly dropping it to the ground, displaying no hostility at all while slightly distancing himself from the spear tip, before suddenly dashing madly away from them towards the river glinting in the moonlight.
"After him!" one of them bellowed after a moment.
Do they not care about the sword?!
"Get him! Go, faster!"
The galloping of the two horses was right on his heels. They were getting closer, fast. Grimacing, he pounded the ground as fast as his human legs could manage, throwing himself forward and forward. Within seconds he reached the bank, and he jumped.
He was just feeling the cold rush of the wind on his face, wondering if he'd really made it, when the metal pierced his shoulder. Blood poured out of him for just a moment before he hit the cold water.
And then he was taken by the current. His shoulder hurt far too much and he was gasping for air. He couldn't move his arm. He was struggling to reach for the surface, the water slipping through his fingers and his blood pouring into the cold water.
The air was quickly escaping his lungs, his heart was beating much too fast for his breath to keep up. And then he swallowed water.
The brigands were laughing on the shore, he heard them for a moment when he reached the air to take a breath, but then he was underwater again. He saw rocks in the river, and the powerful tide was bringing him straight towards them.
He tried desperately to swim, to move out of the way, but he could only move one of his arms and legs, and that wasn't enough.
He hit the jagged rocks in force. They cut through the skin on his side. He could feel his ribs breaking.
The men were still laughing, following him along the riverbank.
Trying desperately to breathe, he only swallowed water again. The tide was getting even stronger. His strength was waning.
His head slipped under the surface.
The water was moving him quickly, his mind screamed, but it didn't really feel like that then. Things were getting fuzzy. Everything was slower underwater – except for the blood and life rapidly spilling out of him. All the noise dulled, the light got weaker and muddled. He desperately held what little breath he had, though his lungs shouted at him to let it go.
It was peaceful, somehow. The world was growing quieter. The water was carrying him… somewhere. He hit more rocks. There was a terrible pain coming from his shoulder, his side, and… and his lungs.
He couldn't hold that breath any longer, yet he knew it would be over if he stopped. He closed his eyes tightly shut, struggling for one last second.
He heard a splash as something hit the water somewhere nearby. Were the brigands throwing things at him?
Humans could really be cruel, he thought. He didn't want it to be over. He really didn't want it to. But it would be, all the same.
As those thoughts faded from his mind, something more solid than the water, yet still gracefully soft, suddenly embraced him. It would probably be his final comfort, he knew. The water was starting to creep in through his lips.
How could it end up being humans that killed him, and not the three monsters he'd kept for company? His head was exploding with the pain of keeping his mouth shut. That soft thing was at his back, pushing him upwards. He really wanted to open his mouth. He had to; it was far too painful not to. But that would mean death—
His head suddenly burst through the water's surface.
He gasped for air instinctively, filling up his lungs more than they had ever been before. The water was leaving his ears, streaming down his face, the muddled peace of the river was gone in an instant. He was breathing hoarsely, flailing his arms, trying to do… anything. Anything he could do with his few more moments. He didn't go back under. He was being held up somehow by small hands that were not his own. Those hands must have belonged to the soft thing behind him.
"You bottom-feeding, night-raiding scum! I hope you choke on your own muck! Come closer, I'll kill you!"
It was the voice of a girl. It was coming from right behind Aylard's head. He hoped he hadn't gotten someone else killed by dying too slowly himself.
"Escape…" he tried to say.
He heard the pounding of hooves. The bandits were coming.
"Hey, we've got a girl over here!" one shouted. The smaller one, if he remembered the voice correctly. "Come here, little lady, get out of the water! The current only gets stronger, you know! But we'll save you!"
"Don't… don't listen…" He couldn't move his throat into the right shapes to make words with it. The blood loss was starting to take him. There was another fog setting in.
"Quiet," the girl said to him, a mesmerizing tune escaping her lips right beside his ear. "Just focus on your breathing. You're going to be okay."
He had to obey. He had no choice. She was still holding him above the water, though with her small frame, she couldn't possibly… He realized something strange. No legs were kicking against the water behind his own. His heels were grazing against something else. Something with scales. A tail? It wasn't Tiphaine's voice, though, it couldn't be her. His head rolled back, and he saw a young human face. He didn't recognize it, but the girl looked so beautiful… and so very, very angry. And then she was smiling. She must have been a hallucination. Was he already dead?
"Well, come closer, then," she suddenly shouted, looking past him, towards the shore. "Come closer, save me!"
A second dark silhouette arrived in Aylard's foggy field of vision, announced by the muddled pounding of hooves.
"What have you found here, brother? Another prize?" the horseman laughed.
"Come closer, you two," the girl's beautiful voice sang. "Come drown yourselves in this river."
Right before he lost consciousness, Aylard heard two splashes hit the water.
3
Verena
"Are those all men from Palehome?" she asked her brother-in-law as he arrived home, sauntering through the gates of Acu'enah with his sword over his shoulder and an army of corpses behind him.
A mad smile appeared on his lips.
"Wait outside, curs!" he boomed through the water, sending ripples throughout the lake, before he turned back towards her, planted his sword into the sand and walked over to her, gently grasping and kissing her hand.
Then he showed her another smile as he pointed towards the right side of the horde.
"Those there were the people of the mountain. Those, there, we found on the way, and those at the far end, on the way back. They were carrying gold, to Terrena, of all places! I had them bring it here instead, I know my queen loves her trinkets. With that, we will be able to make many of them! This is a great day, Verena. We have come one step closer to bringing back our queen!"
"How?" she gasped, swimming to the gates so she could see the entirety of the horde. "All this death… What did it accomplish?"
At that, Aulduyen quickly ran back towards her, planting himself in front of her eyes and laying a hand on her shoulder. She shuddered at his touch.
"I'm sorry. I… I know it pains you to see this. I should have known better than to show it to you. Please, come, let's talk in the palace. Clearly, I am a fiend, suited for the evil I must inflict, but be assured – you will never be the same."
Aulduyen swiftly led her into the throne room, shutting the ornate doors behind them. The dead horde slipped out of sight – but not out of mind. Aulduyen sighed, unhappiness suddenly clear on his face as he leaned his back against the door.
"Perhaps it would be best if I explained. I cannot bear to see you fearful of me. Verena… As the villages and towns fall prey to our army, even the bastard king will be forced to react, and as he sends man after man to defeat us, our army will only grow larger. I do not wish to harm the innocent, Verena. But once the world sees that our victory and conquest are assured, they will come to see that the only way to stop us is to give us what we want. They will search for my queen. They will do everything they can. All men, living and dead, will serve our ends. Our queen will be found."
Verena stared at Aulduyen, watching the glimmer in his eyes.
"But how many will die, before that happens?" she asked quietly.
Aulduyen slowly walked over to her and gently grasped her hands with his own.
"This will be over soon, Verena. I swear it. Soon, very soon, this butchery will end. But not yet."
She looked into his dark eyes and nodded. They stayed there, close together, for a long time. Then she unlinked her hands from his own.
"I… I want to go to the surface today. I want to go meet the human commander, the one that Emony sang to," she said.
Aulduyen tilted his head. "To what end? A show of force? I have gotten stronger since I left. It seems that with every death I cause, my power increases."
"I don't want a slaughter. Before they left for Gull's Landing, Tiphaine told me Emony had the human commander ask his friends in Terrena to try to find Imarah. They haven't come back yet, so I'll go ask him myself if the men found anything."
"Go, if you believe it wise. But wait, I beg you, a couple moments. I will bring forth rain to protect you. You are far too precious to be lost because of your grace. Humans can be vicious to those with the best of intentions."
She wanted to protest, to say that she didn't need the protection of corpses, but she nodded anyway. She knew he wouldn't relent. He would never give an inch when it came to her safety. Because she was Imarah's sister. His queen's.
"Imarah," she whispered to herself. "Is this anything at all like what you intended? Those songs you sang for him – they took him so far…"
Only an hour later, she was outside the human's camp, waiting to be let in through the wooden gates. It was her first time on the surface in years.
The clouds in the dark sky above were swirling angrily above the lake, the powerful surging of the wind conjuring a deep, gigantic maelstrom over the entirety of its surface. A tremendous downpour was soaking the mud all around the surrounding land. The sound of it was overpowered only by thunder. These were all Aulduyen's methods of warding off any attempt at harming her.
Earlier, right after she'd pulled herself out of the water, a legion of corpses had picked her up, as gently as a feather, and carried her on their broken shoulder bones directly over the soaking wet land towards the human's camp.
The storm only picked up as they came closer, the ghastly gusts of wind threatening to unearth trees they passed on the way up the hill.
She'd looked with a mixture of embarrassment and horror over at the human soldiers staring at her, terrified, from behind their wooden walls and palisade.
They had clearly expected a vicious assault, seeing the weather as a harbinger of their deaths. Now they were watching the horde of rotting corpses carry a mermaid, like some sort of evil royalty, to their gate.
Her convoy stopped there. Ten puppets had arrived there before the rest, waving dirty cloths before the panic-stricken humans. They kept their bows drawn, but they didn't shoot.
It seemed as though ages had passed while she lay there on the men's shoulders, before the gate. The humans kept staring at her in fear, when suddenly, a bolt of lightning punched through the sky and destroyed the barrier before her, splinters flying in all directions and smoldering logs being thrown into the air around the encampment. Men had been standing behind the gate. Those men were now lying on the ground, groaning in pain. Nobody dared move to help them.
"I've come to talk!" she shouted before Aulduyen could bring forth any more destruction. "Only to talk! Where is your leader, the knight commander?!"
The rain continued to soak the ground.
Finally, a human, identical in equipment and armor to the rest of them, stepped forward. He stared at her, appraising her coldly, as an enemy. She resisted the urge to look in any other direction.
"I am the knight commander of this field legion," he said curtly. "Have you come to negotiate?"
The corpses standing to her sides began growling, an ugly gurgling sound leaving their rotting throats.
"Yes. There is no need for violence," she hastily replied. She could barely hear the words she said over the rain and the shaking of her voice.
The man nodded with hesitation and glanced over at his men around the palisade. "Stand down, then, men. Remain vigilant. Honored emissary, the command tent is this way."
The human led her to a large pavilion of red cloth at the far end of the encampment. There was so much rain caught atop it that it barely stood straight.
"We can't enter," she said before he could invite her onto the dry ground inside. "Can we talk here? I'm sure the rain will calm down."
The roaring of the thunder and wind slightly weakened at her behest. Aulduyen must have been watching her closely through the eyes of the things that carried her.
"Of course. I hope you don't mind if only I remain under the cloth, though? I hate it when water gets in my eyes, you see."
"It's fine," she nervously smiled. She remembered Aulduyen himself had a similar problem ten years ago, when she and Imarah were just introducing him to the lake.
"Thank you. Well then, I'm sorry we don't have any chairs suited for your kind here. Wine?"
"Please. It's been years since I've had any."
While the man slipped inside the tent, the corpses in front of her began to kneel on the ground while others behind her stood hunchbacked or straight, creating a throne for her atop their horrific shoulders and backs. She looked around. The soldiers all around the encampment were trying to keep their gazes fixed on the outside of their walls, but were sneaking frightened glances at her constantly.
"I'm sorry, we've only got the Terrenan stuff left," the knight commander said, coming back out of the tent. "I doubt it's of the quality you must be used to."
He walked over to the side of her throne and offered her a chalice. Silver, Verena could see from first glance. She couldn't let it touch Aulduyen's puppets.
She took it from the human's hand gratefully and chugged down the wine in a heartbeat, the liquid slightly burning her throat. She coughed. The man, though clearly surprised, kept his face completely still.
"More?" he asked.
She nodded, licking her lips. He took the chalice from her hand and disappeared back into the tent again.
"It's good," she said after sipping from the next chalice in moderation. "It's hard to drink anything but water, down in the lake."
"I see. That must be unpleasant. If you wish, we could arrange a supply line for you. A lady of your stature surely deserves nothing but the finest things in life."
She shook her head. "I'm a commoner. Acu'enah has been drowned for centuries, you can't really call it a kingdom anymore if only two or three people are living in it."
"Centuries? You certainly don't look it."
"No! No, I only meant… Never mind. I'm your age. Listen, um… I don't remember your name, but… Tiphaine is an annoying, wretched little beast."
The man made an expression of utter confusion for a moment.
"That's what I'm supposed to say, isn't it? I hope I didn't misremember. Emony told me that was it, I hope he wasn't joking…"
Understanding colored the human's face upon hearing her explanation. "Ah… No, you're right. Emony did tell me, before he left, to be courteous and to obey whoever told me those specific words, in that specific order. I suppose I ought to. What can I help you with, my lady?"
She nodded, sipping more of the wine, hoping it would soon start to calm her down.
"Have you heard any news from Terrena? The people you sent to ask about Imarah – the girl that was kidnapped ten years ago? Have you learned anything yet?"
"I'm afraid not," he replied, shaking his head. "Messengers need time to get to Terrena, and time to get back, even leaving out the time spent there gathering information. I'm afraid I've nothing to share with you yet – but I sent five of my best men. They should send at least one back soon."
"How soon?" she asked. The rain was picking up again, lightning flashing above the clouds. Waiting was never something Aulduyen was good at.
"A fortnight, perhaps. Or, if you prefer, I could send some more men after them on our fastest horses, have them return sooner. They could be back in a few days, if by chance they've managed to find something."
Verena glanced over at one of the corpses carrying her, one that was little more than a skeleton, with clams growing on its ribs. It turned towards her, strings of invisible magic running through its empty eye sockets. It stared for a long time, then nodded at her before looking straight ahead again.
She looked over to the knight commander.
"Three… days. Sooner, if possible. We want to know about the queen. Please – just give us what we want. You might live."
4
Aylard
The pre-dawn light did little to warm the cold air. A breeze was slipping through his clothes, freezing his nerves as he cringed at the sight right in front of him.
"Are you in pain?" Tiphaine asked, her rusty golden mask inches from his face. His vision was still blurry from the blood loss, but he could recognize the vipers coiling around her and hissing at him.
His shoulder stung, as though a part of it were missing.
"Yyy…. I caaant…."
"Talk? Then stop, you're too much of a nuisance as is." A male voice.
"Emony! He's a friend!"
He wanted to shake his head. That wasn't true.
He grimaced and turned onto his side. He could feel something coming up. Curling into his stomach, vomit began to pour out of his mouth. No. No, it wasn't vomit. That was the wrong color. It was blood.
"Lenah, can't you do something? You helped Emony with his hand!"
"That was one cleanly broken bone. This… is bad."
The blue-haired witch laid a warm hand on his chest. He shivered at the touch.
The werewolf, somewhere behind them, cursed.
"We have to make it to Terrena," Lenah said. "There are healers there who will be better equipped to help him – mortal ones, at that. We need to take him to one of them. But for him to survive till we get there… I'm going to chain his life to yours, Emony."
"What? No! Keep your black magic off of me!"
Tiphaine's voice: "Emony, please! Lenah, you could use mine, too, if you need it!"
"Urgh. No way, not that. It'll be mine," the werewolf growled. "At least we're going in that direction already."
"Why are you complaining, anyway, Emony? If you really didn't care at all, why did you sic your pet mermaid on him?" Lenah asked.
"Because I do stupid things sometimes, Lenah! Don't think I don't regret them!"
Mermaid? Was that…?
The witch patted him on the chest. It hurt.
"That's right, Aylard. You remember it quite clearly."
"That's impossible," he croaked.
"After everything you've seen, this is where you draw the line? Look, the next few days are going to be unpleasant. I'm going to link you to Emony, you're going to be leeching off his evil little soul for a while. You already owe him your life, so play nice and don't start dying too quickly, he won't appreciate that. Okay. Let's get going. First things first, though. Tiphaine. You… won't be welcome in the city."
"What?" the lamia and the werewolf said simultaneously.
"Yes… Unfortunately, Terrena is still quite the hotspot for mythic haters. I know the king, and while Emony and I can pass for human, you, well… not for a second. You would be too much."
"Can't you—"
"No. There's no way."
"… Damn it all. Tiphaine—"
"It's fine. Then… I'll… I'll go back to Coldbarrow. I'll go and talk to Verena, I'm sure she'll want to know how we're doing. We've been gone for a while."
"While you're there, please try to tame the king. Tell him we're close to finding Imarah," Lenah begged, embracing the lamia.
"I'll tell him. I hope it's true, though."
"But who's going to be our pack mule after you're gone? I don't want to carry the human."
"You're going to, Emony! I'll make you a statue for a whole day if he dies!"
"By the divines, Tiphaine… Fine, then. Don't squirm, Aylard. I hope all that blood you lost in the river made you lighter. Lose some weight, do you know how… never mind."
Rough hands slipped under Aylard's back and knees, lifting him into the air. Surprisingly gently, he was slung over the werewolf's shoulder.
"Emony," said Lenah. "We have to make haste. There's something else that I absolutely need to see there as soon as possible."
"Then let's get to that shack before the human bleeds out. I can smell the death on you already, Aylard. Don't you dare abuse my soul for your gain. Do it, Lenah."
The witch did something to Emony before walking over behind him, in front of Aylard's head. She gave him a small nod before brushing his forehead with her thumb. After stepping back, she knelt on the ground and laid her hands on the grass. Her blue eyes instantly turned black. Every vein on her body darkened. Sparks sizzled out of her hands, crackling through the air and ground before reaching him.
Aylard screamed.
When he woke up, he could tell that hours had passed. They were moving. The werewolf's legs were thumping on the ground, making him bump rhythmically and painfully onto his shoulder. Everything was blurry.
"By the divines!" someone shouted. He heard steps running towards them. "What happened to him?"
"Brigands in the night," said Emony with a tired voice. "We need to get him to a healer, quickly. Can you let us through the gate? We've been travelling all day. I fear for his – and my – life."
Another set of footsteps could be heard walking over to them. A dismissing tone was clear in the voice of the new man. "Not until you've been checked. Nobody passes the gate before being searched and passing the mythic test, that's the king's order. The next one is in a couple of hours."
"We don't know if he has that long," the Emony growled.
Aylard croaked for added effect.
"Perhaps an exception could be made?" asked the first guard.
"No. There's no way through, not unless they've got a letter of safe conduct."
"What if we threaten—"
"Emony. Shut up. Friends, it seems we are in luck, then. We have a letter of safe conduct. Aylard, which pocket do you have it in? In your coat? One moment, Aylard, try to lean on your side. Ah, here it is. There. Will that suffice?"
He could hear the men untying and unrolling the parchment Lenah had taken from his coat pocket.
"Damn it, what is this? There's no seal."
"It's a letter of intent from our knight commander," the wolf said. "Says we are on official business."
"So you say, but I can't read, and I don't see a seal. It could be a love letter, for all I know."
"I promise you the parchment says what he said it does," Lenah said. "Let us through. You can see the poor state our man is in. We have to find someone to make him better—"
Emony interrupted her: "Look at it this way – either we'll be out of your hair, or we'll be telling King Raynardt all about why we failed our mission. We were coming this way to speak to him, in the first place. Lenah, show him your seal too, why don't you?"
"Right, I completely forgot!"
Seeing the witch holding up that thing for him, the human guard rolled up the piece of parchment.
"I can't tell if that's real or not, either, it's got to be at least ten years old! Fine. Go, and don't cause any trouble. If I find you making a ruckus in the city, I will personally tell the city watch to have you all executed – and keep that parchment safe, if it really says what you say it does."
"Thank you…"
Aylard lost consciousness again.
It was warm and stuffy in the healer's room. The air was stale, and the bedrolls smelled of sickness and medicine. A fire crackled in a small hearth positioned before the line of bedrolls laying on a big pile of hay. Sick men and women were coughing, laying atop them while the healers worked.
"I'm honestly surprised you're alive," the man said, pricking a needle through Aylard's skin, sewing the spear wound shut with the skin on his shoulder. "You're deathly pale, there must be very little blood left in you. And your wound is deep. I've seen corpses in better condition. But you said you fell into the river? The current has been awfully strong these past few weeks, with the constant rain we've been getting. You're lucky you managed to get out, though clearly, you've had a brush with the rapids, too. I don't understand any of this… but in any case, I strongly advise you to spend the next few days here. I'm sorry – sir? Could you lay your friend onto the bedroll over there? By the fire."
Emony, apparently standing close by, snorted at the word "friend", but picked him up and did as the healer said. He was looking pale, too.
"Thank you," the healer said. "I'm afraid that nowadays, I myself lack the strength of youth. Now, as I've mentioned, the treatment and lodgings will be paid for by the king's grace – but I'm afraid the same cannot be said for anything more than a daily meal. Any amount you could spare would go a long way towards his recovery."
"Here. And there's plenty more if you come to need it, just keep him alive."
"Thank… Thank you. That will be more than enough. I'll do my best – though as I said, I really don't understand how he is still alive at this very moment. Now, then, I must leave you with him. I have to go get some things."
As the healer hurried away, Aylard's "friend" stepped closer and threw a blanket over him.
"Going to smother me?" Aylard asked, uncovering his head. His voice was very hoarse.
"Don't flatter yourself. You're not worth the effort," Emony said.
He sat down on the floor in front of him, leaning his back on Aylard's legs, making them ache. He seemed to be in pain, too.
"You just had to go and meet some bandits, didn't you? Is this part of one of your schemes?"
"Ha! Oh, damn. I hurt too much to laugh right now."
"Then don't."
"Then stop speaking nonsense. Why would I plan to have myself killed…? All I want is to save human lives. And keep my own. Urgh. Talking hurts, too. Anyway, the witch said you and a mermaid saved me?"
The werewolf grimaced. "Don't bother being grateful. You'll never see her again. But to think, the one time you were about to make yourself useful, you almost died… And then got my life chained to yours. I thought you were against the use of black magic. Filthy sympathizer."
"I'd like to thank her. The mermaid. And you, I guess."
"I'll pass on the message," Emony said as the healer's assistant approached. "Hm? Oh, okay. Fine. Hey, you, drink this."
He tossed him a vial full of some dark brown liquid.
"What is it?"
"Poison, straight out of Tiphaine's hair. Relax, idiot, it's a painkilling elixir. According to Lenah, in any case. She's already got herself another minion. For all I know, this'll make you run around flapping your arms like a bird, like you did that time in Gull's Landing."
"Please never mention that again. Can you help me? I'm having trouble lifting my head."
"You're a serious pain in my behind, you know that?"
The werewolf stood up, taking the vial and, after he smelled it, placed it to his lips.
"It smells like a strong drink," he told Aylard.
Which was exactly what it was. The alcohol burned his throat as it went down. It was painfully intense. Likely expensive, too.
"Thank you," Aylard said, after choking on the last sip the werewolf poured down his mouth.
"By the way, there's a small flask in your pocket. It might smell like alcohol, too, but for your own good, never drink what's in it," Emony said, getting up.
"I noticed it yesterday... Or was it the day before? What's in it?"
"A highly defective love potion."
"Huh. Am I going to fall in love soon, then? Did the witch give it to me? Where is she, anyway?"
"She's gone to ask around about something. We're to have dinner with the king one of these days, we're moving up in the world. But don't you worry about that or the potion. Just keep the thing around and don't drink it."
"Why not?" Aylard asked.
"Like I said, it's highly defective. About this, I wouldn't lie to my worst enemy."
"Right… Then I guess I should give you a piece of advice, too… Since you saved my life… Chained it to yours, whatever that means… Divines, my throat hurts. What did the witch do, anyway? I feel terrible. She said it was black magic. According to your definition."
"It is, but it's one of the lighter shades of black. So long as the magic holds and I live, you can't die," Emony explained. "Now, what were you going to say? You know how much I love listening to human advice."
"Ha… It's about the witch, Lenah. I already tried to tell you once, but I have a feeling you don't remember. Back when we were leaving Levara, she messed with your head. Tiphaine's too, but more so yours."
The werewolf shook his head, his lips creeping into a smile. "No, she didn't."
"She did. I only remember, myself, because I was holding onto all that silver the bankers gave me."
"Ha… Well, what did she do? More witchy party smoke?" he asked.
Aylard shook his head. "I think she made you forget something. Something – I think it has to do with Westmire."
"Westmire's great, I hear. Lovely scenery."
"No, Emony. She said she'd made you a promise, that you'd never find out."
The smug smile suddenly disappeared from Emony's lips.
"And though you told me you're not… This is just a guess, so I might be wrong, but I really think… that you're not originally from Aeliah. I think you used to live in Westmire."
The werewolf's hand suddenly shot up to his head. Goosebumps appeared on his arms, and his face contorted into a fiercely agonized expression as he held it.
"You're wrong," he gasped. Blue sparks suddenly shot out of his head towards the ground, sizzling in all directions. "She wouldn't."
Aylard stared at the werewolf, disconcerted, unable to avoid the sparks of magic, which were hurtling off him.
"Emony, look at what's happening!"
He fell to the floor, the blue sparks burning the wood beneath him. He groaned in pain.
"No, no! That didn't happen! We never went there! We never went to Westmire together. Even if we did, they were gone by the time she arrived the first time, anyway! That's a stupid story, made up by an idiot!"
"I didn't say anything," Aylard whispered.
Emony turned to him with crazed eyes. "Why would I…?! Are you stupid?!"
The werewolf blinked, and the pain and rage suddenly left his face. "Was it for her? It was, wasn't it?"
"Emony?"
He didn't notice him.
"No… no, it wasn't. I had to. I did, I'd already made my choice when I killed hers. But it wasn't for her, it was for me! It was all for me!"
"What are you talking about, Emony?!" Aylard rasped. Emony was staring vacantly into space.
"I didn't want to want to kill her. So… so I made it so it wouldn't do me any good. It wasn't humans… It was me."
Emony stared at him quietly, his mouth agape. The seconds turned into minutes, but he moved nothing but his eyes.
Finally, after wildly shaking his head for a moment, he looked lucidly at Aylard again.
"Did I make the wrong choice?" he asked, tears suddenly welling in his eyes. He quickly turned away from him, hurrying towards the window and staring at the sky. "I didn't, did I? Her life… I couldn't kill her – and a hundred years is a long time! Should I have left them like that? No. I'd do the same thing again if I had to. But it… hurts…"
"Emony." Aylard said, struggling to put his weight on his elbows so he could look at him.
The werewolf suddenly saw him. Slowly, the horror disappeared from his face.
He walked over, back towards Aylard, and pushed him back down onto the bedroll.
"Don't strain yourself, human. Everything is fine. You made a mistake, that's all. You should never have told me that," he said quietly.
"What did I tell you? You haven't made anything clear at all," he replied.
"Nor will I. I'm a horrible monster, remember? I killed some people, that's all you need to know."
"You know, for some reason, right now I'm getting the feeling you haven't killed half the people you pretend to have. Quit the murderer act."
"Ha... I don't remember telling you any numbers – but hey, just between us guys – it is pretty high. And those two people were special to me. Just as those two were special to her…"
"Sure... whatever you say."
A pained expression settled on him again. Then, the werewolf smiled at him maliciously, trying unsuccessfully to hide it, and patted him roughly on the chest, provoking a painful groan from Aylard.
"Anyway – get better soon. Lenah wants you with us when we meet the king. Apparently, I was wrong, and even after everything, you can be trusted. We don't even have to threaten you. But for old time's sake – you try to expose me, and I'll kill the king, all of his guards, and then I'll go after everyone you've ever cared for. Sleep on it."
"Urgh. Fine. No problem. Wait – Emony."
"What is it? Want to be buddies? I've just had some mind-shattering realizations, I could be convinced."
"I want to speak to the mermaid."
He grimaced again. "Never mind. I don't need another friend of that sort. Look, the mermaid is long gone. If you ever do see her, she'll probably kill you. Just recover. We have a job to do. Palehome is gone, but there is still the rest of the world to consider. I really don't know if Tiphaine will be able to convince the king not to destroy it."