Chapter 2
“Are you going to start talking to me anytime soon?” Calith asked. He stared at the back of Marrok’s head as they ambled along. They’d ridden till the last light died and rose again at first light. In all that time, Marrok hadn’t said a single word.
With a shake of his head, Marrok prodded the horse to speed up, wanting to increase the distance between the two of them. He felt like he was being punished. He’d saved those two boys, he’d even returned most of the gold and yet he’d lost everything because of it. Resentment clawed its way up his throat before bursting out, “We didn’t have to leave! I don’t understand why we’re heading towards the Arkosh city just because one of the guards saw me. Their outpost was over half a dozen villages and none of them had ever seen me before. What does all of this matter?” His voice ended in a bellow. White-knuckled hands clenched his reigns. Jerking them up, he forced the hose into an abrupt halt, whipping around in his saddle to face his tyrant. “What are you so afraid of?!”
“You’re not meant to understand.” Calith said. His voice was as steady as his horses’ pace. He pulled up alongside, staring at Marrok with calm, grey eyes. “I did what had to be done. One day, you’ll be able to see that too.” He set his knotted hand onto the boy’s shoulder. “For now, you must trust me. Can you do that?”
Marrok grimaced but gave a curt nod. His uncle had never lied to him before. Calith always protected him. “For now.” He muttered, his face melting down into a pout. “How long until we reach people again?”
“At this pace,” said Calith, “A long while yet.” He laughed when Marrok groaned. “It’s not so bad. It means you’ll have a lot of time to practice observing.”
“I don’t need to practice.”
“You still miss things.”
“I’m better than you!”
“Please, Marrok.”
“It’s a waste of time. It’s never actually going to help me.” Marrok grumbled, “Wish you’d let me learn how to fight.” This was an age old argument between the two of them. Marrok wanted strength and to be able to best others with his fists but Calith forced him into memorizing useless details and ‘reading’ people. What use was any of that on a farm? He saw more sheep and cows in a day than he did humans.
He looked over at his uncle when he didn’t respond. For the first time in his life, Marrok saw true anger in Calith’s eyes. Annoyance and disappointment were commonplace but it seemed that Calith was a heartbeat away from knocking him off his horse.
“I-” the apology froze in Marrok’s throat.
“Get on your feet. Now.”
Marrok obeyed. He stumbled a bit, the inside of his legs sore from riding so long. “I- I didn’t mean to-”
“I’ll stop at sundown and light a fire.” Calith said. He dug through a satchel to his right before tossing Marrok a compass and a gourd that sloshed with water. “Make sure that you’ve caught up to me before the morning.” He gathered in Farrow’s reigns, urging the two horses into a gallop.
vvv
Marrok panted as he trudged his way towards the fire. His boots made long streaks in the dirt as he shuffled up to his uncle, collapsing right onto the ground.
Tucked inside a warm bedroll, Calith opened a single eye. “Well? What did you see?”
Marrok groaned. His parched throat breathed out empty air as he crawled towards one of the other canteens. The water absorbed straight through his tongue and down his throat, allowing him to speak. “There’s a road two leagues north but you’ve taken us down this path. I assume because of the paranoia you got from the guards. Farrow’s back right hoof has a small nick in it. The deer are in mating season. You’ve gained more weight than you’d like to admit because Garret’s tracks are strangely deep and…” he stopped short.
“And?” Calith asked, nudging the boy.
Marrok mumbled under his breath, his exhaustion overtaking him.
He didn’t speak back to Calith again.
Chapter 3
Alexander, Captain of the Guard in the farming providence of Lamuran, stormed through the corridor of the governor’s estate set at the very heart of Arkosh city. He had ridden three horses into the ground to reach the city in two days. “Give me one of your messenger falcons.” He had to consult with the Crimson Order before taking the matter to the King himself. If he’d been wrong about the boy, it would be his head on the line. But the reward was too tempting not to take the risk.
The governor started out of his chair, gravy smeared across his double chin. “See here!” he pounded a pudgy fist onto the heavy-laden table. Its legs creaked, threatening to buckle in if he added any more weight. “You have no authority over me. Leave before I have you strung up.” He laughed through a mouthful of food.
Alexander grabbed the man by the lapels of his food-splattered coat. He wrenched the man up to his eye level. “You’re here because you’re an obedient little lapdog that only lusts for food. If you were to have an accident, you would not be missed.” His slender fingers wrapped around the steak knife on the table. “You must’ve been so hungry – to cut your own tongue.” He ran the flat side of the blade along the man’s lower lip. “Such a pity.”
“I’m sorry!” The governor’s face turned lilac as he fought to squirm away from the knife. “Take whatever you want!”
Alexander chuckled, applying just enough pressure to draw a single drop of blood from the governor’s lip. “Where are they kept?”
The fat man gestured over his right shoulder, too afraid that if he spoke, his lip would be cut off.
“Thank you,” Alexander said with a grin, “That was very helpful.” He plunged the knife into the chicken on the platter, heading off through the right corridor. Taking out a small scroll with the name Aurelia, he wrote: ‘Come to Arkosh. I found the King’s brother’.
Chapter 4
After two weeks of traveling through green fields and small villages, Arkosh was an unwelcome site. Set at the very foot of the mountains, it seemed like an evil infection determined to consume everything in its path.
“You’ll have to get used to places like this.” Calith said, “We’re not going back.”
Marrok stared at the tree stump wasteland that spread out from the city’s gate. He could still smell the ash, “We’re not going back.”
Forced to dismount before they were allowed inside, Marrok held tightly onto Garret’s reigns. They became an anchor as he passed beneath the great iron gate. On each side hung iron cages with picked apart corpses. He tucked himself up against Garret. The horse smelled of home, the last remnant of his normal life.
The apprehension snowballing inside his stomach melted away the moment he turned the corner. Stalls and shops pressed up against each other, spilling over with things exotic wares from magic beans to unicorn horns. Everything was brilliant and vivid against the soot black walls.
Marrok’s eyes narrowed at the scarlet flags emblazoned with an obsidian wolf. The King’s mark. It stood for everything he hated. The guards that stole and cheated. The impossible taxes. Even there, on the very outskirts of the kingdom, his fist was unrelenting.
“Hey there, handsome.” Marrok did a double take when he noticed the women. They stood out among everything, alluring birds with a siren’s call. He grinned as he studied them all, appreciating each and every one in their variety, dressed up in colored cheeks and tight silks. The prettiest girl back home was as attractive as a shriveled old prune compared to what he was seeing now.
The one who’d called to him winked in his direction and Marrok purged himself from the streaming crowd. She barely came up to his shoulder. Her hair was the color of fresh cream. A scarlet corset that matched the color of her lips dramatized her shape. Though she possessed the body of a grown woman, she seemed to be younger than he was.
Marrok reached out to touch her, wanting to make sure that she was real.
A hand closed tightly around his wrist.
“We won’t be needing your services.” Calith said, pulling Marrok away. He looked annoyed. “Why do you never pay attention when you need to?”
“I do pay attention,” Marrok said with a grin, “just not to you.”
Calith smacked the back of Marrok’s head as they walked through the winding streets. The further they trekked into the city, the grungier it became. The women they passed wore stained clothes with large patches that matched their unkempt hair. Touching the walls left Marrok’s hands stained and he held his hand to his nose to try and mask the rotten smell of waste.
A shabby tavern stood at the very end of the path. Off to the side, a run-down stable with several scraggly mares rested in the shadows.
“Go inside.” Calith finally let go of Marrok. He pulled out several gold coins, pressing them into the boy’s palm “Get us a room and something to eat.” He turned and shuffled towards the stable.
Marrok peered inside, taking in every detail that he could about the room. The walls were caked with grime and bits of food and he doubted than anything short of burning the place to the ground could make it clean. The room was lit with a few sparse lanterns and candles which did little to cast away the shadows.
“Can I help you?” A scraggly boy with no shoes hopped off a stool from behind the bar. He weaved his way through the tables of drunks, eagerly tugging Marrok further inside. “We’ve got the best ale in town.” He plastered on a large grin.
“I need a room and two meals.”
The boy glanced to a tall man with dark skin behind the counter. His arms were as thick as Marrok’s waist. “He’s the one that does the rooms.” He said before bouncing off, disappearing through a door at the back of the room.
“Excuse me?” Marrok asked, approaching the man with caution. “Room?” his voice broke off into a squeak when the bartender leaned in, towering above Marrok. He smelled like steel and cheap beer.
Without a word, the giant man extended out his open palm. Marrok pressed a gold coin into his hand. A shake of the head. Another coin. Eyes narrowed. Marrok emptied his pockets of the rest of the money, terrified about what would happen to him if he didn’t.
The barkeep’s face broke out into a sparling grin. He laughed, patting his hand on Marrok’s back, making him stagger under the blows. “Upstairs, first door on your right.” He held out a brass key, “Don’t be a stranger. Bar’s open all night.”
Marrok managed a nod before snatching the key and bolting out the door to find Calith.
“Uncle?” Marrok called out. The sun had disappeared behind the city walls and the streets were unlit, plunging the path into dusk as he smelt his way towards the stables. “Uncle?”
Ragged breath answered, “Here.”
Marrok found him sitting on a barrel. His elbows rested on his knees with his head hung so lung it barely seemed attached at all. “Just gathering my energy.” Calith said. “You got the room?” He glanced up. A smile stretched across his face when Marrok held up the key. “Good boy.” Marrok could hear Calith’s bones creak when he stood. Gathering up what little they had
The room reeked of dead mice. A single bed and a small table with a chipped wash basin had been magically crammed into the tiny space. Calith didn’t even pause at the door as he pulled out their bed rolls, spreading one across the floor. Marrok scowled, already knowing that he would be condemned to that spot.
“I’ll go see about the food.” Marrok said. He was half a step into the hall when the same boy from before ran straight into his legs. The boy wobbled in place before regaining his balance. He held up a plate of cheese and bread. “You said you wanted something to eat.” He said, going into the room setting it down on the rickety table. “Anything else I can get you?” His eyes darted between them and Marrok wondered if he was assessing their worth.
“Come here,” Calith said to the boy, “I have a job for you.” From his burlap sack, he pulled out a long sash that nearly glowed yellow. “I want you to tie this around the top of your chimney where the wind will catch it.” He produced two gold coins larger than the boy’s eyes. “One will be yours after you put it up and you’ll get the other if I see it’s still there in the morning.”
The boy nodded eagerly, snatching the fabric from the old man’s hands before sprinting from the room.
“What was that about?”
“You’ll find out in the morning.” Calith said, popping some of the stale food into his mouth before stretching out on the bed, “Good night.”
Chapter 5
Marrok sat in the darkest corner of their miniature room. He glared at the back of his uncle’s head. Calith wouldn’t let him leave the tavern and he just sat on the bed, staring out the window as though waiting for a sign. Four hours since first daylight and the old man still hadn’t told him what was going on. He couldn’t take it.
“What are we doing here?” Marrok demanded. “You asked me to trust you and I do, but I just want to understand why we left home? Why didn’t we take the main road? Why are we lodged in this miserable place?” None of it tied together. He wasn’t special. He’d done nothing wrong. Well, nothing worth all this trouble. He could usually see through things so easily.
Calith’s neck creaked as it turned, “It’s a signal for an old friend of mine.” He shifted on the bed, taking Marrok’s hands in an iron grip, “You must continue to believe me. Terrible things are about to happen to you. You’ll need courage to grow into the man you are meant to be.” He shifted closer, one of his hands coming up to Marrok’s cheek. “A great man…” Calith’s voice trailed off into a chuckle, “It’ll take years, though, for you to be ready.”
“Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on?”
“Because I’m afraid.” Calith said. “I’m afraid that you might not believe me. Or worse; how you would react if you did.” His grip fell and smiled.
Marrok gave a noncommittal shrug. The air had grown stale and he moved to the window in hopes of cleaner air. His eyes narrowed, wondering if he was falling ill. Even as he watched, the glowing yellow shaft was bleeding to pitch black. He rubbed his eyes and looked again.
“He’s here!” Calith became all energy as he whipped about the room. Marrok was shoved from corner to corner as the old man collected everything they had brought with them. It was really quite amazing how things could spread out in such a tiny room after being there only night. “South of the front gate, there’s a tavern called ‘Grimm’. There’s an image of a quill across the front.” He handed Marrok a small bag of coins. “Take a seat in the darkest corner and-” Calith took Marrok’s traveling cloak, wrapping it around him. “-try not to show your face too much.”
“Okay.” Marrok said, looking down at himself. Everything was just getting more confusing. “What about the horses?”
“Don’t worry about them!” Calith waved his in the air to brush off the subject. “Take these and go. Go!”
Marrok nearly dropped the sacks as they were tossed into his arms. Shoved from the room, the door slammed shut behind him. Swearing and grumbling under his breath, he heaved the sacks higher up onto his shoulders as he tracked back out into Arkosh city.
He saw shadows everywhere. Every squeak and creak set his teeth on edge. He tuck his cloak further down around his face when he passed by the hanging dead that guarded the gate. Crows picked away at the remaining strips of flesh. Bile leaked into Marrok’s mouth. His pace quickened as he dodged through the streets, feeling ready to scream. It seemed an eternity before he finally found the tavern.
Compared to everything around it, it was– ordinary. No layers of grime, no flagrant colors or women. Marrok could feel his body give a sigh of relief as he walked inside. Nineteen people, including the two men behind the counter. Brothers. His eyes flicked to the customers. A group of three men with healing bruises and cuts on their exposed skin. They punched each other and laughed. Soldiers. A cloaked figure had their head resting in their arms at a table near the corner. He could see faded burn marks on the hands. The most eye-catching of all was a woman that sat at the very center of the room. She wore a brilliant scarlet cape lined with bear fur. Her hair tumbled in gold locks all the way down her back. She seemed sweet to him, with a soft round face. But no one looked at her. The tavern was comfortably empty but everyone went far out of their way to avoid getting too close.
How strange.
Hitching up the bags again, he sat at an empty table beside the scarred traveler. His fingers tapped out a beat as he cycled through the last few weeks in his mind. He was seen and then they had to leave. What if it wasn’t about him? Calith had acted strangely about the necklace he’d reclaimed. Everything that Calith did said that they were being hunted down. Yawning, he almost didn’t notice the blonde in the center glance his way. He tucked the hood of his cloak down closer around his face. The sleeping traveler to his left gave a loud snore and the blonde’s eyes shifted away.
It was an eternity of covert glances and constant shifting before his uncle finally came through the door. The tavern was filled with laughter and drunken shouts as more people came in. And still, no one dared to get to close to the lady in red.
Calith eased his way through the crowd with surprising haste. “Take this.” He said, handing a walking stick to Marrok. “And these.” He dropped several wrapped parcels onto the table and Marrok stuffed them into their already full burlap sacks.
“Who are we waiting for?”
“An old friend.” Calith glanced about. His body went stiff. “Marrok. That woman,” he nodded towards the blonde, “has she come over to you?”
“No. Why is everyone afraid of her?”
“She’s bad.” Calith gulped. “She’s very, very bad.” He started to gather up their things, hands trembling.
“I’ve been waiting for you.” A soft voice came from Marrok’s side and he could see the shadow of a cloaked figure cast against the nearby wall.
He slid a hand to his left hip slowly, his back still to the woman’s voice. “Oh?” he unsheathed the dagger at his side. “I’m sorry we kept you here so long.” With his grip firm on the knife’s handle, he spun around, going straight for the heart. A hand shot out, grabbing his wrist just before the blade hit its mark. A sharp wrench and the dagger clattered to the floor.
“That wasn’t very nice.” It was a woman, but not the lady in red. The traveler with the scarred hands twisted Marrok’s elbow at an unnatural angle, forcing him to sit. “Especially after I came all this way.” She shoved Marrok further into the corner, fetching his knife. “Are you Calith?” she set the weapon on the table, voice calm.
“I am.” Calith said. “But who are you?”
“Stiltskin sent me.” Marrok could just see a smile underneath her grey hood. “Pinocchio’s new arm kept falling off so he’s been rather busy. He said to give you this as an apology.” She held out a lantern twice the size of Marrok’s fist. It had elaborate golden symbols of what looked like ancient runes set into black glass panes.
“It doesn’t look like it’s going to be very useful.” Marrok said. He looked it over before shaking his head. “No light would get through- ow!” He couldn’t tell which one of them kicked him under the table.
Calith shook his head at the boy, fingers tracing along the marking. “Thank you. This is very generous.” His entire body seemed to sag in relief as he held the object. Handling it like pure gold, he tied it to his belt. “We need safe passage.”
“You won’t be able to pass through the mountain. There’s practically an army on both sides of the cave network. Maliel’s become very strict about who can journey in his domain.”
“Maliel?” Marrok asked.
The woman turned to him. He must’ve grown another head while he wasn’t looking because that was the only thing that could explain her expression. “The King.” She said. “Maliel.” She moved closer and Marrok could see that she had deep auburn hair. “You really do look like him. Thirty years younger, of course.” She reached out and tugged on his cheek.
“Stop that!” Marrok slapped her hand away. She didn’t appear to be much older than himself. She had no right to treat him like a child.
She laughed. “Sorry.” She glanced behind her and grimaced. “Stiltskin has a shop up in the mountains that we’ll go to where he keeps his daughter. Getting out of here is going to be the tricky part.” Her eyes darted about the room and Marrok could hear the gears of her brain turning. “After I get up, count to ten and start walking towards the door. I’ll make sure she’s distracted. If you can, get out of the city.”
Marrok watched her move towards the front of the bar from the corner of his eye as he and Calith prepared to move. She still hadn’t given them her name. He counted out the beats in the back of his head before rising. Keeping his face parallel to the floor, he gave himself a subtle limp. He could feel Calith’s hand on his shoulder.
Marrok smelled the smoke before he heard, “Fire!” Grabbing his uncle’s arm, he took off at a sprint.
“Alexander, stop them!” There was a loud crash behind them, people screamed.
Marrok reached the winding streets when something tugged back on his cloak, choking him as he was toppled onto his back. Pain split across the back of his head as he looked up to see the Captain of the Guard above him with a triumphant grin. He must’ve been waiting outside. Alexander reached out to grab him when his eyes suddenly crossed.
Calith brought his walking stick around for another crack at the guard’s head before sweeping it down to knock him off his feet. “Come on, boy.” He tugged Marrok back onto his feet before scuttling off.
They didn’t stop until they were out of Arkosh City. Huddling down half a league South of the gate, Marrok borrowed strength from the city’s wall. “I look like the King? That’s it!?” He rolled his eyes. He could’ve never imagined a more ridiculous reason for all the trouble that had been coming his way. “Even I know that he went mad and slaughtered his own family.”
“That’s not quite all there is to it.” Calith said, sitting down on a boulder, his staff resting on his right shoulder. “It’s not easy to explain but I believe you have a right to know.” He stroked his beard. Never a good sign. “You’re not actually--”
“There you are!” The woman from the tavern came running up to them, grinning. “I haven’t had that much fun in a long time.” She carried a small pack of her own and her cloak was gone.
“Fun?” Marrok felt his eye twitch.
“Yeah. It’s not every day that I get to smash a chair over the leader of the Crimson Order.” She laughed. “And I never miss an opportunity to cause a stir.” She came over to Marrok, extending her hand “The name’s Ella.”
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