ARC 8: CHAPTER 12: QUIET

I returned to the dining room where I’d left my group, and to my relief no one was murdered or raving mad. Penric sat on a small couch near one wall, chatting with a she-elf I didn’t recognize who was wearing the archer’s hat. Emma sat to the right of Tzanith, who spoke to both her and Hendry while plucking at a lute, the same one she’d played at her father’s hall the night I’d met her.

Lisette sat near the door in a seat separate from the others, fidgeting and looking uncomfortable. When she saw me enter, she stood and approached.

“I don’t like this place,” she said without preamble.

I cast a deliberate look at the rest of the lance and raised my eyebrows. The cleric sighed and pressed her fingertips together before immediately parting them.

“Are the Sidhe not being good hosts?” I asked the young woman.

Lisette had barely been an adult when I’d first met her, but now she’d come into her own. She looked leaner, her features less soft after two years of self-discipline and danger. Even her white-and-yellow Abbey robes, bright colors, gave her an aspect of confident surety she’d lacked before. They suited her better than Priory black, in my opinion.

“They are,” Lisette said with an air of exasperation. “That’s the trouble. The others are too relaxed, and as you said earlier, this place is dangerous.”

“It is,” I agreed. “But we have guest right. It isn’t a guarantee of safety or anything, but it does count for something. Isn’t that right, oradyn?”

I turned to look at Fen Harus, who’d guided me back from the Queen’s glade. He dipped his snout into a nod.

“Indeed. There is nothing to fear from us, sister-scribe.” His not-quite-human mouth turned up into a smile. “Ser Hewer and our lady are in common cause, and it would benefit none of us to cause any of you harm. The unpleasantness from before has been rectified, amends made.”

I kept my silence, though I wasn’t fully in agreement that amends were made. People had died and trust was broken. But I couldn’t linger here and quarrel with the elves, not now.

I stepped closer to Lisette and pitched my voice low. “Besides, the others aren’t relaxed. Hendry looks like he wants to shrink into his armor, and Emma won’t take her hand away from that table knife.”

In the corner of my eye, I caught Penric whispering something into the ear of the nymph who was entertaining him, eliciting a giggle. His right hand flexed into a fist and then unfurled, flashing four fingers. Four guards, he told me.

Lisette frowned and glanced at my squire, who let out a bark of laughter at something Tzanith said. Her fingertips joined again, and this time only her thumbs separated.

“You’ve been working with them for most of a year now,” I said after noting her fidgeting. “Still having trouble settling in?”

Lisette was originally one of Rosanna’s inner circle of confidants and agents. The Empress gave the young but scarily talented cleric to me when I’d struggled to build a trustworthy team of my own. She’d remained with the lance since, but I’d noted a distance there.

“No, it’s fine.” Lisette shook her head and adjusted her mantle. “Just this place, it’s getting to me. I keep hearing sounds and seeing things that… Well, you said it yourself. It won’t all be real, but it will all be true.”

I nodded. “It’s worse for those of us who are auratically sensitive. My powers make me more susceptible to elven illusion. Damn castle’s making my head spin too, trust me.”

The lie fell easily off my tongue. Once, even a small fib would have left my mouth scorched. Now, there was only the ghost of the anticipation of pain.

My powers did once make me more prone to Sidhe magic, something I now knew was by design, to control us. But I’d stolen the power and twisted it to my own purposes, as Maerlys found out the hard way.

But it seemed to reassure Lisette, who smiled and let out a self-recriminating huff. “I will endure it, Ser.”

“Alken, please. You’ve already tied me up more than once, after all.”

She blushed furiously as I stepped past her and drew the rest of the room’s attention. Tzanith stopped playing her lute while Emma rolled her eyes in my direction. Hendry turned in his seat, looking eager.

“I’d like to talk to my group alone, if our hosts don’t mind.” I glanced between Tzanith and Fen Harus. “We won’t need guarding, so you should give whoever’s hiding in the walls something more productive to do.” 𝘳Ἀ𝐍𝘰ＢЕṡ

The oradyn blinked, but Tzanith only flashed an indulging smile. I got the sense I’d impressed her, by the glint in her mismatched eyes.

“Of course, Ser Headsman. We shall leave you in privacy with your companions.” She stood and walked to Fen Harus, who took the pixie’s arm in his own and guided her out. She cast me one last look before she left, one I couldn’t read but seemed to almost be asking a question. She left without an answer to it.

I took a deep breath and turned to the four remaining inside the room, waiting a beat. Penric shook his head.

“They’re gone. Can’t promise no one isn’t listening, but they’re at least being cleverer about it.”

Not like I have any important secrets to keep anyway. Their queen already knows most everything important. I nodded to the archer and then addressed the room.

“We have a destination,” I told them. “We’re going to the Bannerlands.”

Hendry leaned forward. “The Banner? Why?”

“That’s our next lead as to the whereabouts of Lady Death.”

“More travel,” Emma said with a sigh. “I should have expected as much. So are we leaving right away?”

I considered. While walking back, Fen Harus told me we were welcome to remain in the castle for the night and rest. I was paranoid enough to refuse the offer, but the group needed rest. They’d traveled hard for many days to intercept the Empress’s convoy on the road, and I hadn’t slept more than a few hours since well before Darsus’s kidnapping. While resting with the elves wasn’t much safer than bargaining with them, it would do us more good than going all the way back to the encampment and catching rough sleep there, or in the wild.

Time was of the essence, but I’d just reunited with my group. They’d remained loyal to me, even after I’d abandoned them, even after all my stumbles in the capital. I wouldn’t misuse them.

“We’ll rest here tonight,” I said. “The elves won’t try anything. Their queen wants me to succeed.” I think. “We’ll leave at dawn.”

I saw their relief, and knew I’d made the right decision. Lisette still looked troubled, but she was sensible and there was plenty to be troubled about.

One night. Just one night of quiet, and then I’d dive head first back into the storm.

While negotiations with the Elf Queen had gone relatively well, that didn’t mean I trusted her. I’d wounded her pride by shirking her enchantment and injuring her, and spoiled her plot besides. While I believed she wanted me to succeed in my mission, that didn’t defang her.

So I had Lisette ward all of our rooms with her Art. The Sidhe provided us a whole wing of the castle for our own use, with chambers for each of us and plenty of supplies for washing and grooming. I also detached some of the shades lurking in my shadow and compelled them to keep watch. The ones I allowed that close to me tended to obey, with some cajoling, and the ones who didn’t I kept at more of a distance.

I was standing outside my room’s door, in the middle of that process, when someone approached me. I didn’t realize until they were almost in sword range — talking to my ghosts required concentration, and could be distracting.

“Hendry,” I said as I pulled my attention from the darkness. The young knight’s face looked pale, and he glanced between me and the spot of wall I’d been staring at.

“Are you alright?” He asked. “I thought I heard you talking to someone just now…”

“Did you need something?” I asked him.

He wasn’t wearing his armor, which hardly made the lad look smaller. Twenty years old, he was near broad shouldered as me and almost as tall. He’d let his brown hair grow out during the winter, so it formed a shaggy mane around a beardless, almost boyish face. His eyes were blue like Lisette’s, only darker.

“I just wanted to say it’s good to have you back,” Hendry said. “This winter was a bloody nightmare. There were monsters in Mirrebel.”

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I nodded. “Down in Osheim, too. But you seem well. That looks like it came from something mean.”

I nodded to the new scar on his chin. Hendry lifted a hand to it, his demeanor becoming self-conscious. “It’s nothing,” he said. “We’ve all got new scars now. Listen, I wanted to say that I appreciate it. You taking me on after everything that happened last year, with the tournament, with… with my father.”

He swallowed. “I never said it before. No one else would have taken me into their service, not after what he did. I should have been exiled, but…”

Hendry seemed to be struggling with something. He lowered his voice. “Was it you, Ser? Did you tell the Emperor to let me keep my knighthood?”

I shook my head. “No. Markham is a smart man, and he knew you stood up to your father from the accounts of almost thirty people. I didn’t have to say anything to him.”

“I see…” Hendry looked relieved. “Then… Well. Good night.”

“Good night, Ser Hendry.”

He made his way to his own room. Emma was across the hall, her door open so I could see her distractedly tending to her gear. I caught sight of Lisette lingering by her door and chatting with Penric. She seemed to bid him goodnight and then closed her door. His head tilted, not quite looking at me, yet I knew he was looking in his way. He nodded and then went into his own room, though his door remained cracked open. He would not sleep — didn’t need to sleep — and would be keeping watch.

Don’t get them killed, Hewer. They’re better than you deserve.

The bed must have been a holdover from the original castle. It was comfortable, but not fae. The air of the spacious room was pleasantly cool without being cold. There were windows, but I shuttered those and drowned myself in black.

I did not sleep easily. I never did, really, and almost never without nightmares, a consequence of the life I’d lived and the powers I’d tethered myself to. Being inside a fortress full of potential enemies didn’t help. I could not get my mind to quiet.

Yet, eventually, the disquiet waters of my thoughts would drag me under into the inescapable undertow of fatigue.

I felt that tug starting when the window whispered open. I didn’t hear the latches move, but knew they had when night air brushed the curtains before gently kissing my skin. Bare feet padded cat-quiet across the floor. Then came a soft exhale of furtive breath right next to my bed.

I kept very still. It was pitch black in the room, and I needed shadow — a divide between light and darkness — to draw out my axe. I could concentrate my will and emit light from my eyes to see, but then they’d know I was aware of them.

So I kept still, kept my breathing steady. My fingers brushed my rondel, placed within easy reach. One quick motion, one flex of muscle, and seven inches of mail-piercing steel would slide between an assassin’s ribs.

A gentle hand tugged the sheet aside to my left and cool fingers touched my shoulder. That touch held no violence in it. It was a light touch, and a question.

When I didn’t move, they pulled more of the cover back and crawled onto the bed. That questioning hand moved, fingers sliding over the curve of my shoulder to explore my chest.

Still I didn’t move, even when a bare leg brushed my hip. Their fingers found the knife in my right hand, a discovery followed by a pause in their breathing as they realized I was both awake and armed. I did not loosen my grip on the weapon.

And they didn’t try to make me, instead continuing their exploration. I wore little underneath the blanket. They wore nothing, which I soon realized when they straddled me. They remained apart at first, exploring only with fingers, barely touching my hips with the inner curves of thigh and calf.

Then the tips of modest breasts brushed my chest as they leaned down to kiss me. The darkness was disturbed by a less natural sound, less easy to place at first, a bass thumping.

Wings gently beating at the air in anticipation, confirming my suspicion about who the visitor must be.

I’d wondered if she would show up. I remained still, and considered stopping her.

I was tired, bodily and mentally. I didn’t need the manipulations, the seductions, the games of control and of power. That’s all this was, I knew. Perhaps her attraction was genuine, but in the end she remained what she was. A hook and line. A hunter, and me the prey.

Tired of this, I thought as her lips explored my neck. I was tired of the schemes, the doubt.

My body did not care. I hadn’t been with a woman in nearly a year, and I’d spent so much of that time fighting for my life or matching wits with beings who were older, stronger, and more clever than me.

Tired. And starving. How long since I’d been touched like she touched me then? Even without magic fire burning me when I lied, I didn’t bother denying it. That part of me wanted this, and wanted to be wanted.

The kiss started gentle, just a brush of shy lips against my own. But when she drifted away to explore my jaw, I raised a hand and pulled her back. She gasped, let out a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh, and pressed against me hard.

She was sitting on my stomach, not close enough to start. I tried to lower my left hand to her hip, my right hand still forming a fist around the dagger’s hilt, only for her to grasp both my wrists and trap them against the bed.

“I told you—”

What had I told her? I couldn’t quite remember then. And she didn’t seem to care as she forced her tongue into my mouth. She kept my arms pinned — she was surprisingly strong — and prevented me from reversing our positions. I gave up after a half hearted attempt, felt her let out a breathy noise of triumph as she broke the kiss. Her teeth gently pressed against my jaw.

Long hair tumbled around my face like a veil as she lifted herself up, drowning me in her strange but not unpleasant scent. Like citron and something harder to describe. Almost ophidian. Though I still couldn’t see, I knew she was staring into my face then.

Bad idea. Bad idea bad idea bad idea—

I let go of the dagger. Deliberately, slowly, she guided my hands to her breasts and kissed me again as I felt them. My hands slid up, past her ribs, to her back and from there the shoulder-blades. Here, familiar human anatomy ended and something else began. The roots of her wings shifted against my fingers, a reflexive motion. The muscles of her back were strange, almost thick as those in my arms and hard as rock. Powerful.

My brow furrowed. Something was off, but—

Her exploring mouth drifted down my neck. Her teeth were sharp, but then again she wasn’t human. She—

She let go of my wrists and let me explore her freely as she cupped my face in her hands. She was warm. But the leg sliding along my thigh, that was cool and smooth as it shifted up, up—

Not a leg. A tail. Then its tongue flicked against my skin, and I knew it wasn’t that either. I knew even as her wings curled in to enclose us both, and I realized belatedly they weren’t the delicate membranes of a dragonfly. They were huge, multi-jointed limbs covered in sharp points of bone. They sported hooked claws like monstrous fingers.

She spoke directly into my lips in a bare whisper. “Alken.”

Not the elf. Her.

Her nails, sharp as claws, traced the scars skirting my left eye. The first time she spoke my name was full of longing. The second seethed with hate.

“Alken.”

The snake slithering up the bed struck in the same moment the demon’s nails sank into my flesh.

Fidei.

I woke gasping for breath and clutching at my chest. The room was dark, the sheets soaked with my sweat.

The window wasn’t open.

I sat a minute and let myself feel my own blood drumming through my veins. My heart was still there. I could feel it pounding away behind my ribs, beating almost hard enough to burst free of them. My fingers moved to curl over the spot, my nails scraping skin hard enough to leave red grooves, as my mind struggled to catch up with flesh.

Still alive. I was still alive. Just a dream.

A dream of her. Again. How many times now these past weeks?

No need to count. It was every time I let myself sleep.

I lay there in the bed, staring up at the wall and waiting for the castle’s cool air to chase the heat from my skin. As I had every time before this, I focused on my breathing. Minutes passed before I managed to get a full lungful of air.

Was it back? That fucking shadow of the succubus, the scadudemon? Had I not destroyed it in Tol after all?

No, it was gone. I would have felt its presence already otherwise, and I’d looked for it. No, this had to be her. The real one.

Or was it just a normal dream? Just a pleasurable nightmare?

“Shyora.” The name escaped my dry lips like a curse. Was she here? Had she gotten into me somehow? Was she still—

No. Calm down. Think. I’d taken measures against that kind of intrusion. I wore wards to sleep, a necessity with the volume of ghosts haunting me. They all seemed intact. There were also no signs of spiritual malison on a quick inspection, no claw marks, no bruises or fresh burns. Demons always left signs, even the most subtle ones.

The four lines of scar running along the left side of my face from temple to cheek ached, but that wasn’t unusual. They itched whenever I let myself think about the one who gave them to me, and burned more intensely when something demonic was near.

And if she were here, then she would have killed me. I felt certain of that, and more so as my blood cooled and logic chased away panic.

It’d felt so real.She felt real. I was still hard, though my arousal faded as the rest of my body calmed.

I threw the sweat-stained sheets aside, sat up, and propped an arm up on a knee, bowing my head as I let my breathing slow. Perhaps it’d just been a very disturbed wet dream and nothing more, but she was back. I saw it with my own eyes, heard her speak my name, watched her flee that collapsing crypt with Delphine as the monks of Hell battled with demons and Casimir pulled me away.

Many weeks since, and no sign of either of them. But I knew she was out there, probably with the doctor, plotting her revenge. I’d been waiting for her to find me. Waiting, and waiting, only to feel the quiet.

Was this what I’d been waiting for? Was Pernicious Shyora fishing the dream world, perhaps calling out to me? I’d destroyed her shadow, but if even a trace of her influence remained then she might be able to reach me. Succubi were said to have power over dreams.

Where are you? I wondered. What are you waiting for?

The door to my room opened, allowing light to flood in. Emma peeked inside, already geared up and washed, looking fresh-faced and prim as ever. She saw me sitting half-naked on the bed and arched an eyebrow.

“Interrupting something?” She asked.

“What time is it?” I croaked.

“Just past dawn. Best get freshened up, everyone else is about ready to go.”

I nodded. “I’ll be out soon.”

A look of concern touched the girl’s face, but she nodded and closed the door. I rolled out of the bed, stumbled over to the window, and opened it. Cheerful woodland daylight slapped me in the face. I winced, a headache already starting to pound through my skull.

A shape stirred in the corner as Vicar, folded and placed with my gear, woke from whatever passed for his rest. The cinder lights of his eyes watched me a moment before he spoke.

"You dreamed of the demon again."

He'd been close to me long enough now that he'd picked up on my recurring dreams. "Yes."

"The succubus's influence is insidious. It grows in you like mold, difficult to expunge even when the cause is absent. You saw what it did to Delphine. She was a brilliant mind, and it turned her against herself."

I brushed my hair back from my eyes and leaned against the wall by the window, letting daylight touch only one side of my face. I remembered Delphine. Part of me remembered how she'd looked in those last minutes, that look of resolve on her face as she'd made her wish. But I also recalled our talk inside the Wend, and the things it made me think about.

"Sometimes... Sometimes, Vicar, I think maybe it would have been worth my soul to have just listened to her back then. It scares me, to think like that, but I can't help it. Maybe she had evil ends for me, but I could have stopped Reynard, Alicia, Hasur, all the rest that very day."

Vicar was quiet a moment in thought. "Perhaps. But the past is done. For now, you cannot afford distractions."

He was right. There was no time to deal with this right now. If Fidei — if Shyora — was out there, searching or calling for me, then she would have to wait a while longer.

I knew our time would come soon enough.

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