Chapter 21
With trembling hands, I ripped open the envelope.
My heart was in my throat as I unfolded the piece of parchment and studied the words. My shoulders sagged in relief the moment I saw the handwriting.
Dear Alara,
I’m sorry we haven’t had the chance to speak again since last night, but today has been particularly demanding.
I’ve just been informed that, in the aftermath of Hywell’s murder, my presence is urgently required at the border. I leave in two days’ time, but I would love to see you before I go.
I need to see you.
Meet me at sunset tomorrow?
I can’t stop thinking about you.
T.
I clenched my jaw as I reread the note. Tarben was going away? Fuck. This put a most inconvenient wrench in my plans. Especially because the note didn’t say when he would return.
What if he was still away by the full moon? I’d have to return back to Vantillios a failure! How would I ever face my grandmother? My subjects?
I paced my bedchamber. Unless I could get him to declare his love for me tomorrow night? It would be a challenge, but not impossible. Things were progressing in that direction anyway, I just needed to speed them up.
I’d have to give the performance of a lifetime—every line, every touch, perfectly delivered. I’d bring him to his knees, then I’d stomp on his heart.
It wouldn’t matter once he left for the border, the curse would be broken and I’d be halfway back to Vantillios.
What was I supposed to do about the murderer’s threat to Tarben? I couldn’t not return home. Maybe I could learn what I could about the killer, then warn the Royal Guard before I left. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something.
I saw one small patch of blue sky in this otherwise gloomy situation: at least the killer couldn’t get to Tarben at the border.
After I wrote my response, I found a servant in the hallway to deliver it to Tarben. Once I’d done that I returned to my bedchamber and, at last, melted into the softness of my bed.
***
I woke earlier than usual.
The sun had not yet made an appearance, its marked absence leaving the awaiting sky in shades of gray. If the cold morning air was anything to go by, I doubted it would ever emerge.
Clutching my cloak tightly around me, I trudged across the muddied grounds. It must have rained the night before.
“Good morning, Anders,” I called out as I reached my destination. My breath was mist in the chilly air.
Upon my unexpected arrival, the excitable figures of the dogs came running towards me. I obliged them with a quick scratch behind their ears, ignoring how damp and unpleasant their fur smelled.
“Good morning, Miss,” responded Anders. He looked weary; the dark shadows under his sunken eyes made me wonder if he had slept at all. “You’re up bright and early. Come to see the pups?”
“I have.” I smiled through chattering teeth, stroking my four-legged friends affectionately and earning a few licks in return. “But actually, I’m also here to see you.” I straightened and turned to face him.
“Me?” he looked confused. “Why’s that, Miss?”
I would have to play this very carefully. I offered him a look of heartfelt concern. “I heard that you were the one to find Lord Hywell and—”
“Begging your pardon Miss, but you aren’t one of them types that’s way too interested in gore and the like, are you? ‘Cause if you are, I’ll stop you right there. I ain’t got nothing more to say ‘bout it,” he said, his eyes narrowed.
I would have to think quickly, or this conversation would be over before it even began.
“Gracious no!” I exclaimed. “I haven’t got the stomach for gore. I simply wondered if anyone had come to check on you. It must have been quite the shock.”
He picked up a damp stick from the sodden ground and threw it for the dogs. I watched as they eagerly chased it.
“No one’s asked if I’m alright,” he finally said. “Plenty of questions from the Royal Guard— enough to last a lifetime. But no one’s bothered to ask how I’m doing.”
“It’s terrible. I can’t even imagine the horror of what you witnessed. Is there anything I can do? I could take the dogs off your hands for a few hours so you can try and get some rest?”
As I hoped he would, Anders instantly thawed. “Thank you, Miss, but no.” He shook his head. “Couldn’t rest, even if I wanted to.”
I made a sympathetic noise, accompanying him as he strolled to a nearby copse of trees. “It must have been the last thing you expected to find on your morning walk.”
“It was. These three were pacing and whining something fierce, so I figured something was off. Thought it might have been a fox. But when I got close to the kennels, didn’t reckon I’d find… find a body there. Tossed out like the dross.”
I arranged my features into a look of deepest concern. “Did you recognize the body? As Lord Hywell, I mean?”
“I’d seen him around.” He threw the stick again. “Knew who he was. Wasn’t much left of him to recognize, mind.”
I winced, but continued, “I heard his body was defaced. Someone even said there was something carved into him.”
He snorted. “The carving in his palm was the least of his woes, believe you me, Miss.” He accepted the stick from one of the dogs, petting its head with his free hand.
“You’re sure it wasn’t an old mark?”
Another snort. “Looked pretty fresh to me. The blood had barely dried.”
The murderer must have disposed of Hywell’s body right before Anders found it. The realization made me squirm. But I needed to keep going, no matter how uncomfortable this conversation made me feel. I didn’t hide my disturbed expression as I asked, “Do you think the carving meant something?”
“It meant something alright.” He halted and cast a glance over our deserted surroundings. He proceeded hesitantly, “You wouldn’t believe me. The Royal Guard don’t believe me…”
“Go on, try me,” I said in my best impression of gentle encouragement.
For a moment, the only sound to be heard was the occasional yip from the dogs as they charged ahead into a pile of leaves. Watching them, my breathing stilled as I waited for Anders to speak.
With no small amount of reluctance, he said, “When I was a boy, me old Nan told me stories from her village. Stories about people going missing, their bodies turning up in pieces. They reckoned it was a rabid animal, at first. Didn’t take them long to figure out it wasn’t no beast. It was a witch using them for rituals.
” A shudder at this. “They found him in the end. Found him and chopped off his head. After that, their troubles didn’t end.
The cattle started dying, the land went to rot, plagues tore through the village until folks either died or took off.
They say the land is still haunted by the spirit of the witch. Nasty things, those witches.”
Chills traced their way up and down my spine. “You believe this to be the work of a witch?”
“I’m sure as Seru.” He nodded vigorously. “I’ve not seen anything like it before. A mark for some kind of dark magic, I’d wager.”
My body went cold. Of course it must have been dark magic, what else would it be? “What exactly did it look like?”
“I’ll show you.” Using the stick, he sketched a symbol into a patch of mud.
The blood drained from my face. It was the symbol from the note. “Anything else?” I asked, fighting to keep my voice from wavering.
He shook his head. “You’re thinking I’ve gone mad, like the rest of them. But I swear to you, it’s witchcraft.”
“I don’t think you’ve gone mad at all, Anders. I believe you.” I lightly touched his arm.
“Flames of Erasure, Miss. You’re freezing!” he cried. “You’d better get inside or you’ll catch a chill.”
“Oh… I suppose it is a lot cooler than what I’m used to,” I said absentmindedly. I couldn’t stop thinking about the symbol. What did it mean?
“Off you go Miss, it’ll be breakfast soon.”
“Yes…” He was right—I should get out of the miserable cold.
“Thanks for looking out for me, Miss, but I’ll keep plodding along. I’ll be right soon enough.” He offered me a rueful smile before turning back to his game with the dogs.
Retracing my steps, I made my way back towards the warmth of the castle, mind swimming. The note was from the murderer. And if Anders’s suspicions were to be believed, the murderer really was a witch.
Until my recent run in with the Crow, I had never encountered a witch. My knowledge of their kind was limited to the little I’d learned from Doran.
Most looked upon witches with distrust and wariness. This was largely to do with the role many of their kind had played in the events leading up to and during The Rebellion six hundred years ago. Countless rumors surrounded the war; so many that much of it had become legend.
Almost a thousand years ago, a powerful demigod stole the goddesses’ book of spells and used it to magnify his own powers exponentially.
The first witches were mostly Velcarin high priests, priestesses and acolytes. The demigod tricked them into believing he was acting on the will of the goddesses and taught them how to channel ambient magic using the stolen book of spells.
Over time, this demigod deceived the rest of the world into believing it was the goddesses’ will for Velcarin and witches to rule.
Other magical beings such as dwarves, selkies, sprites and centaurs were to be treated as second class citizens, while mortals were considered the lowest of the low.
He garnered widespread support from Velcarin, but his most devout followers were the witches.
His rise to power was swift, with minimal opposition. With the aid of his powerful army, he conquered mortal lands and enslaved those that he did not slaughter. Anyone who challenged him was eliminated with brutality.
For many years, he reigned as supreme ruler of Orradon, but, secretly, there were those who opposed him. Over time, their numbers grew, and, eventually, rebel mortals and magical beings united in an effort to overthrow him.
A brutal war raged across the world and, after years of battle, the rebels finally defeated him.