T. Grey - The Fallen King

“No,” Alrik said, his patience waning fast. “Answer my question, seer.”

The seer pulled the smoke from between his wrinkled lips and stared at the tip before turning it back around and casually sucking from the end. The scent of burning herbs reached Alrik’s nostrils. The odor was not unpleasant but close to it.

“You’re asking the wrong question, fallen king.”

Alrik squeezed his sword then deposited it back in the scabbard across his back. “Stop calling me that.”

The seer’s dark eyebrows flew up in surprise, and Alrik wasn’t fooled. The seer wasn’t surprised by anything. “What? The fallen king? You are fallen, aren’t you? Were you not banished from your home for all your…horrible deeds?”

Alrik’s blood pumped hard with the need to lash out. The need to tear across the small space, wrap his hand around the old seer’s throat, and squeeze—squeeze until his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his wheezing breaths stopped. He didn’t do that though. Instead, he released a strangled breath and bared his teeth.

“Where is my mother?”

“Ah, yes, the fallen queen,” the seer said, still smiling and puffing away at his smoke. “That’s not the right question to ask. Try another, fallen king.”

“How can I find my mother?”

The seer rocked his head side to side as if contemplating.

“You are very close to death right now,” warned Alrik “I’d answer if I were you.”

The seer tossed his head back and laughed a hoarse, wheezing sound. When he looked back at Alrik, his grin was broader and his dark eyes bright with amusement. “You can’t kill me, fallen king.”

“Want to bet on that, seer?”

The seer spread his arms out wide until his body formed a T. “You need me.”

Alrik looked away. It was either that or risk tearing the seer apart limb by limb. God, just the thought of it sent a rush of pleasure through him. The howl of his screams would fuel him better than any food, the sight of his spurting blood like a balm to his heart.

“Answer the question,” he said slowly, his eyes closing as he enjoyed the mental image of killing the seer with his bare hands.

Silence met him. Alrik pushed back the dark thoughts and opened his eyes to find the seer watching him, no longer smiling.

“How you can find her or where you can find her is not important, and you already know the answer.”

“All that I know, seer, is that she’s in the rift.”

The seer shrugged a slender shoulder.

“I’m sure you know how big the rift is, seer.”

“She’s here. You’ll find her eventually, but you already know that. You don’t need me for that.”

Alrik frowned. “Then why the fuck else am I here?”

Again, the seer smiled. “Because you don’t know how to kill her.”

Alrik’s body stilled, each muscle tensing. “I’ll slice her head off with my blade and if that doesn’t work, I’ll turn to magic as she has.”

The seer laughed then sat back down on the rug at the fire, leaving a trail of smoke behind him. “But you can’t kill her.”

“What do you mean I can’t kill her?” he asked slowly.

That’s all he’d thought about, all he’d planned for years. He’d been searching for her for years, always either one step behind or completely off her trail through some form of her treachery. He was done. This would end soon. He’d make sure of it.

The seer looked him up and down. “Your curse won’t let you. The queen isn’t stupid. When she cursed you she made sure that if you ever learned of her deceit you couldn’t kill her. Since surely you’d want to.”

‘Want’ was such a lame word. He didn’t want to kill his mother, he needed to. He needed to as much as needed air to live.

“How do I break the curse upon me then?”

“By killing her, of course.”

Alrik’s fists clenched until his blunt nails stabbed into his skin. He felt the skin give and blood bead. “But you said I can’t kill her.”

“No, you can’t.”

Alrik nearly saw red. “Then how do I kill her?”

“It’s not a how so much as a who. See, you’re not asking the right questions.”

Alrik blinked, the only sign he gave to show the shock in his body. “Who can kill her?” The thought of anyone else ever delivering the killing blow to his mother had never, not even once, crossed his mind.

The seer laughed and rubbed his hands together. “The most unlikely person, naturally. A woman, a human woman.”

Alrik took a hard step forward and pointed a hard finger at the seer. “Stop messing with me, seer. A human, let alone a woman, could never kill my mother and you know it.”

“But this human is a witch.” His eyes turned into a faraway look, unfocused and hazy. “Though there is a bit of a problem with that.”

As if this wasn’t a problem already. “And what’s that?”

The seer didn’t respond for several moments. His eyes were lost in thought. Finally, the haze left him and he tossed the end of his smoke into the burning fire. “She hasn’t used her magic in a very long time. She shuns it.”

Alrik shook his head. “This is ridiculous. You mean to tell me that the only way to kill my mother and lift the curse from me is through a human witch who doesn’t even practice her skill?”

“Precisely!” the seer said with a smile.

Alrik looked away, lost in his own thoughts. “You’re certain she is the one?”

“Oh yes.”

A human witch. If she could kill his mother then she must be very powerful indeed. The human aspect would be a downside. That means he’d have to go to the surface to get her and she’d have a harder time adjusting to the environment in the rift. But, it could work. The fact that she doesn’t practice her own magic would have to be remedied right away. He needed her power at its fullest for when they reached the queen.

“What is her name?”

The seer’s lips lifted into another smile. “Abbigail Krenshaw.”

Alrik frowned. “That’s a strange name.”

“Maybe to her your name is strange.”

“Maybe so. How do I find her?”

The seer shrugged but a smart glimmer in his eyes said he did know. But he stayed silent.

God, the surface. He hadn’t been there...in ages. The last time was before the Great War and even then he preferred his richer, brighter colors of the rift than the dull colors of the earthen-realm.

“Fine.” Alrik turned without a goodbye and headed back towards the hall. He’d just stepped foot onto the dark path when the seer spoke.

“She’ll die in the process.”

Alrik looked over his shoulder at the seer. “Then so be it.”

The seer’s merry laughter echoed around him as he stalked away with his next quest on his mind.

Abbigail stretched her tight muscles as she got out of the car. The sun was entirely too bright today…like it was trying to sear her eyeballs. Stupid sun. It wasn’t the sun’s fault she hadn’t been sleeping well.

She’d never been a great sleeper because she woke at the slightest of noises. Her mother said it was paranoia. Whatever it was she had a hard time sleeping and it didn’t help that she lived alone. At least with a roommate she felt some added comfort and could sleep mildly better.

Abby pinched her eyes into slits to hide the brutal sunlight and grabbed her mail from the mailbox. She pulled out a stack of mail and flipped through the envelopes as she strode back to the house.

“Bill, bill, wrong address, junk, junk, more junk...” she muttered.

She paused as her gaze landed on the last envelope. The envelope was tinted yellow, the paper thick and scratchy like parchment. It certainly didn’t look like any kind of envelope she’d ever received before. Then again, companies that sent out junk mail did seem to be finding more creative ways to get people to open their trash mail.