Jon Sprunk - Shadow’s Lure

Hubert finally gave a hesitant nod.

Anastasia walked to take her hand. “Josey, I’m going to be worried every day until you return. Promise you’ll be careful.”

Josey kissed her cheek. “I promise, ’Stasia. And try to keep Hubert out of trouble, will you?”

Anastasia blushed, and Josey had to laugh, but there was a note of sadness in it. She might never see these people-her friends-again. But somehow, instead of making her fearful of the future, it urged her to go forth with courage.

“Hubert, keep an eye on Lady Philomena and the prelate. They will not forget the slights we served them this day.”

As the lord chancellor bowed, a groom brought Lightning over. Josey didn’t wait for the stepping stand, but climbed into the stallion’s tall saddle on her own. As she settled into the stirrups, a cheer went up from the troops in the courtyard. It was echoed by the sentries on the palace walls. Josey’s face was hot in the chilly air as she took her place at the head of the formation alongside Captain Drathan and the army commander.

Hubert came over to stand beside her. “Take every care, Your Majesty. Your country needs you.”

Her heart swelled to the point of breaking, Josey pointed to the open gates and shouted, “Forward!”

Caim traced the outline of Josey’s pendant under his shirt as he stood on the crest of a flat ridge. The midmorning sky was clear and blue, but the brittle air carried the scent of snow. Stern hilltops crowded the western horizon. To the north rose the beginnings of the great forest, dark and forbidding even in the daylight. The tugging in his head was clear as crystal; he could have pointed to its source far beyond the northern mountains, but his thoughts ran in the other direction, to Josey and the vast distance between them.

Below the ridge, wild brush and weeds choked what had once been the grounds of his family estate. Low mounds crested the snow where buildings had once stood, including the house where he was born. He’d left the city in the early morning, slinking out with the rest of the bad memories, while the townspeople snored away the effects of the drunken celebrations from the night before. Some part of him had considered staying, just to see what they would make of their newfound liberation. But it was better he left before they remembered what he was.

Assassin. Sellsword. Killer.

As always, victory came with a price. Caim recalled the names of the fallen in his head: Liana, Hagan, Caedman, Killian, Oak, Vaner, and more. Too many. Ramon’s tale was being told throughout Liovard, how he’d met his end holding off a legion of foreign mercenaries while his men set fire to the city barracks and the homes of ducal sympathizers. Already his name had joined Caedman’s in the pantheon of martyrs to what was being hailed as a new era of freedom in Eregoth. But Caim remembered another man, long ago, who had also died following the banner of his nation’s freedom. His gaze touched a spot at the center of the estate’s courtyard. The black sword was finally back where it belonged. He didn’t want it. Its vengeance exacted too high a price.

A finch soared across the fields to settle on a green sapling rising through the snow and greeted him with a bright chirp.

“You’ll catch your death out here.”

Caim dropped his hand from his chest as Kit materialized beside him. The scandalous cut of her dress at the bodice and thigh was in a garish contrast to its somber purple hue. Her silver hair wafted against the breeze.

“Who would notice?” he asked.

“You’re in a glum mood this morning.”

“I haven’t slept in three days.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Nor bathed, evidently.”

Caim looked to the north, to the leaden gray sky above the ocean of trees.

Kit floated around until she was looking into his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ll live.”

The rage was gone from him, buried with the sword. Or so he hoped. All in all, a fair trade. But something was different. He could feel it inside him, like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

The shadow beast.

It was a part of him now. Kit said it always had been, but he just didn’t know it. Caim wasn’t sure what that meant. The dreams of his mother still lingered in his mind. She had sacrificed herself for him. That much he knew. As for the rest, there was only one way to find out.

“So you’re still intent on going north?” she asked. “And I suppose trying to talk you out of it would be a waste of breath.”

“Something like that. You coming with?”

She gave him an ethereal peck on the cheek. “What are we waiting for?”

But he saw the other question in her gaze, the one she’d asked as they held each other in the witch’s lair while the tiny electric pulse of her heart tickled his chest. “ What about Josey? ”

He still didn’t have an answer, but he was saved by the clop of hoofbeats.

“You’re a damned hard man to track down, Caim.”

Dismounting from a fine gelding, Keegan walked over to him. The youth was wearing the same bloodstained clothes he’d worn the night before. Aemon, Dray, and Malig rode behind him on similarly upscale steeds. Aemon’s leg was wrapped in bandages, but the brothers had both survived the night of chaos, which was amazing. If Caim were the pious sort, he might have called it a miracle. But he was content to chalk it up to dumb luck. Where would any of us be without it?

“Maybe I didn’t want to be found,” he replied.

Kit snorted.

Keegan looked at the others. “We don’t want you to leave, Caim. In fact, we’d like you to stay as-”

“No, thanks.”

Keegan’s grimace pulled at the black smudges under his eyes. The eyes of an older man. “You don’t know what I was going to say.”

“Sure I do. But I’m not the man for the job. Did you burn everything in her temple?”

“We tore the whole rotten place down,” Dray answered. “And I personally pissed on the ashes.”

Keegan flashed the ghost of a smile. “We did like you said, but there’s trouble in the city. Some of the celebrations have gone out of control. People are burning down buildings, fighting, and drinking themselves stupid.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“But you’re nobility,” Keegan said. “That’s something none of the rest of us can claim. Eregoth needs-”

“This country needs a new beginning.” Caim looked down over the ruined estate. “Not another reminder of the past. Let the people work off their anger in debauchery for a day or two. When they’re done, they’ll be looking for a leader. A man like you.”

Keegan studied the snow between his feet. “But how can I lead a nation, Caim? I’m not even a thane. I don’t know…”

Caim felt for the boy. He was stepping into a new world he’d never dreamed of before these past couple days. Caim placed a hand on Keegan’s shoulder over the knots of blue ink.

“Remember the ones who have fallen to make it possible. Let their memories guide you. Being a leader isn’t about giving commands and making men kneel. It’s about winning their hearts. You’ve got your father’s strength, Keegan, and your sister’s heart. That’s a good start.”

Keegan bit his bottom lip and nodded. He took a long dagger from under his cloak and held it out, hilt-first.

“I want you to have this.”

A knot inside Caim’s chest loosened. He had seen the weapon before, from the other end.

“That’s your father’s knife. I can’t take that, Keegan.”

The youth pushed it at him. “He would want you to have it. It’s good Eregothic steel, not like that flimsy slag they make down south.”

Caim took the seax knife. The hilt felt good in his palm, and it had a nice weight, but the blade was half a finger broader than his suete knife. That would take some getting used to.