Retribution

By Leslie D. Soule

Give me someone to believe in, she begged the universe. Ash didn’t want to finish this dire quest alone. She wanted Will to burst through the door with a smile on his face and spellbooks in his arms, telling her that he had everything under control, that his strengths would defeat Malegaunt and win the day, and yet, every cold hour of silence, waiting for him to return, tore at her heartstrings and gave her a chilling reminder that the world didn’t care one whit about what she wanted. She’d have to take action, now, and see how far she could get, utterly alone with no other humans for comfort. There was the wyvern, Slick, but he was an animal who could not speak English. The comfort he could give were not human comforts. Kill Malegaunt, that was her charge, her quest, and she had absolutely no clue how to go about getting that done.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melange Books, LLC
• Release date: Jul 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781680469141

Leslie D. Soule

Leslie Soule is an author who likes to experiment within the fantasy genre. She is the author of the novel Fallenwood and she lives in Sacramento, California.

Book preview

Prologue

Give me someone to believe in, Ash begged the uncaring universe. She didn’t want to finish this dire quest alone. She sat at the edge of the bed in the back room, in the little house deep in the woods, in the fantasy realm of Fallenwood that she’d escaped to, all those years ago. She knew what had to be done, but she didn’t want to have to be the one to do it. If only things could be different. If only her mentor would come back. She wanted Will Everett to burst through the door with a smile on his face and spellbooks in his arms, telling her that he had everything under control, that his strengths had defeated Malegaunt and won the day. And yet, every cold hour of silence, waiting for him to return, tore at her heartstrings and gave her a chilling reminder that the world didn’t care one whit about what she wanted.

This would, ultimately, be her battle to fight. Not to fight, to stay here instead and wait out the cold hours in silence and turmoil, letting the anxiety build within her, was also a choice. And that, was a choice that she would not make, and could not accept.

She’d have to take action, now, and see how far she could get, utterly alone with no other humans for comfort. There was the wyvern, Slick, but he was an animal who could not speak English. The comfort he could give were not human comforts. Kill Malegaunt—that was her charge, her quest, and she had absolutely no clue how to go about getting that done.

I don’t know what I must do, she said in a whispered voice, a voice that trembled as she held her hands together in prayer, but I swear that whatever must be done, I will do it.

For now, after her prayers, she’d tuck herself beneath a nest of blankets and sleep as much as she could. Tomorrow was bound to be a lively day. Tomorrow, she’d stop living like a prisoner on house arrest, and venture out to see the world—no matter how much it had changed, and no matter how frightening it had become.

I’m coming for you, Malegaunt, she thought, and drifted off to sleep.

1

A Lonely Quest

It’s time to put an end to this madness. That was the first line that Ashley Ash Kensington wrote in her journal. And then:

Now I look upon even the darkest days of my past with all the reverence of a golden era. Back then, things were simple, and I was my own worst enemy. The worst I could do, was the limitation of the destruction to be wrought. Now, my worst enemy has made himself manifest in the world, or to more rightly say it, made himself known. That is to say nothing of his power—seemingly unlimited, matched only by the abysmal depths of his malice.

She paused in her writing, to think of how best to word the rest. Her tea steeped beside her, in the blue mug on the oak table. It was getting late, and she felt restless, having waited months now, for Will and Terces to return from their quest to destroy Malegaunt. As for Malegaunt, she wrote about him:

This one’s a powerful, tricky sorcerer. Or so they say. I still don’t know what he’s got against me—or why he sent his minions to kill the black unicorn, my darling dark star—Shadowmere. Foe. He is my mortal enemy, the blade in my hand, forged by my rage and hatred of him, and his power and his greed will be his undoing, and I wield the blade that will bring him low. The house was quiet this evening, as it had been for so long. Ash wanted to believe that Will would come back home, soon. But with the days coming and going, endlessly coming and going, she began to lose faith in that idle hope.

Her pen twitched upon the paper once more.

I feel a chill upon the air, a frost so bitter it chokes my heart. Ash wanted two things—the first, was to be a hero. She wanted the darkness to back off, for her. And the second—she wanted to know inner peace. Perhaps going after one wish, would reveal the path to the other. I have to go after them. Friends rescue each other. She knew they’d do the same for her, if the tables were turned.

Besides that, the house in the deep woods was too quiet for her liking. What else to write? People often wrote about how they felt, what they feared, what they wanted. As it was, though, her journal was filled with confused scribbles of mumbled rage.

Soon enough, her day ended, and she went to bed for the night.

In the morning, she woke, and made herself some tea, and considered her plan.

I have to do this, she said, to an empty house, growing lonelier by the day. She cast her gaze upon the walls as though scrying into them. But how? Where do I start? There was not even Greymalkin, anymore, for company. Greymalkin was the talking cat she’d met in Fallenwood. Ash had found the antidote to his curse—he was a cat, no more, but a man named Alexander Dorrin. He’d gone back to Evendown to be with his lady, Rosalyn. My friend’s happiness must be my victory. As for the rest, nothing had seemed to work out all that well.

When she’d first arrived in Fallenwood from that Other Realm across the portals, all those years ago, Ash thought herself truly cursed, for there was a being in Fallenwood, whose sole purpose seemed to be tormenting her, and his name was Malegaunt. What he wanted with her, some girl from across the portals, in that Other Realm, she couldn’t say. Her path was Fate, Destiny, whether she liked it or not. Once, she’d felt perfectly safe here, in this home in the deep woods, but no more. Will and Terces had taken off, leaving only the barest hints as to where they’d gone. Prince Edward was now king of Evendown, ruling there with his Isabelle. It never would have worked out between he and I, anyway. This world leaves no space for dreams. And we walked our road, long ago.

It had been a long journey for Ash, almost ten years, in fact. Through her journeys, Ash had discovered her own power of summoning, but she didn’t know how to control magic, and fear held her back from experimenting with it. But there was no escaping Fate.

I must, somehow, destroy Malegaunt before he destroys everything I’ve ever cared about. The Great Dragon Illeydra had told Ash as much. And The Oracle confirmed it. But how? Ash set her pen on the table, folded her arms, and laid her head down upon them, closing her eyes, drowning out the noise of her own thoughts. The coals glowed in the hearth and Ash pulled on her fingerless gloves. Outside, it rained. The rain was soothing. She didn’t want to go outside and gather up any more firewood. But in a moment, she would. She didn’t want to do any of this, but she would. Because I must.

The Dream

Ash found herself in a small office-like room. Sitting across the wooden table from her, was a man known simply as The Oracle. In appearance, he looked to Ash like the American poet Charles Bukowski—a man with a face that only a mother could love—grizzled, timeworn, wrinkled, roughly fifty-something and tired of the world that ground him under its heels. He’d be the perfect leading man in a film noir. The light was low and soft, and a torch flared from its sconce somewhere nearby. An old browned map stood affixed to the wall. How many times do I have to tell you, kid? Malegaunt’s coming. You don’t have the luxury of resting on your laurels while he’s out to get ya.

In the dream, Ash was standing there before the Oracle’s desk like a patient awaiting an appointment.

Well what do I do? Ash pleaded. What do any of us do? And what does he want with me? I didn’t do anything to him! She motioned with her hands for emphasis.

The Oracle opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, setting it on the table. Kid, I’m gonna tell you a story that’s old as the stones, and it’s the story of how the cow ate the cabbage. You see, one day, there was this little ol’ cabbage, sitting around, not hurting anybody…

Okay, I get it, Ash interrupted. It’s in his nature to hurt the innocent, right? But what do I do about it? How do I stop Malegaunt?

The Oracle took a swig from his bottle. Then he set it down on the table, clasped his hands together, looked at Ash with an expression of regret, and said, There are things I can teach you, and things I cannot teach you. What I CAN tell you, is that going after those five crystals and destroying them, like you want to, is a fruitless endeavor and a waste of your time. I already told ya as much.

Ash walked over to get a better view of the map on the wall. Then she touched it, and the map crumbled away beneath her fingers. She gasped.

Then she awoke in a state of bewilderment, looking around her at the familiar scenery of Will Everett’s house in the deep woods. What in the world does this mean? She felt rattled. She shivered. Going after the crystals was the only thing that might have worked.

Ash set her journal aside. I have to get going.

She went through the motions of dressing and cleaning herself up, but she did not put any extra thought or effort into it, because her mind was busy working overtime, as she came up with possible next steps to take. Finally, she sat at the empty table. Today was sure to be a busy day. She had a load of goods to cart down to the gypsy camp, and she’d need to secure Slick to the wooden cart. Slick was a good, loyal wyvern. Ash had sent him away with Alex Dorrin, but one bright morning, he’d returned to her doorstep. So she took him in, joyfully.

Ash had dragon teeth to sell, along with salted meats and bottles of dragon blood. For she had summoned up a ballista from that Other Realm across the portals and had gotten pretty good at taking down the dragons that approached.

The organs would have fetched a decent price, but she already had enough goods to sell, with the addition of dragon leather, that she’d be richer than she’d ever been in her life. Maybe all that gold will buy me some answers. She still had to figure out where Will and Terces were. It had been so long since they’d vanished, and every day drew the waiting out longer. Also, she had the horn of the black unicorn, Shadowmere. Perhaps I’ll find someone who can fashion it into a sword for me. At the very least, I can ask around.

It couldn’t hurt. Ash sighed. She felt so old, for a young woman on the cusp of thirty. Every muscle in her body ached for more sleep, and the comfort of rest. And she yearned for some kind of human comfort. But what she wanted most was answers, and to put an end to the dark clouds that had overtaken her life. That was a quest that only she could undertake, and it seemed utterly impossible. But in the quest for change, momentum is your ally. Any direction was the right direction, for now.

I need some coffee, and to get a fire going in the chimney, and get everything ready. Anything, as long as I remain in motion, and build up a momentum.

She stood up, fighting against her body’s protest, and walked over to the door, sighing as she gripped the cold brass doorknob and turned. The woods were lovely in the morning, and Ash breathed in the fresh mountain air, feeling a renewed vigor and strength. I can do this. I just have to keep going. She exited the house and walked out to the stables out back, where Slick had stayed the night. The old wooden cart was tucked over by the rose bushes. Ash walked over and dusted away a couple cobwebs and pulled the cart over toward the stables. It was spring, but the morning sun hadn’t yet warmed up the world. Ash felt like she was freezing. She walked back across the yard.

She re-entered the house, to warm up again. The morning was bitter cold, biting into her bones. She thought to herself, about the future. Was there any hope at all, for this dire little quest? She sure hoped so. But right now, all she could think about was breakfast and warmth.

And someday my words will ring out like a song, loud and clear and strong, my pain undeniable, and I won’t care how uncomfortable it makes anybody, because I actually went through it and their discomfort is fleeting, but I’ve got the scars, invisible but tangible, and no one dare deny their existence, or the terrible circumstances that made them. As the old folks said, Then you will know the truth. And the truth will set you free. But sometimes, more often than not, the truth would break your heart, too.

The coals burned in the old iron woodstove, giving the house some heat, at least. I need to put the kettle on, and get some water going for tea. She shivered. The place was cold, and she dreaded the thought of going out into the woods again, this time, to fetch fuel for the fire. It will only be a momentary discomfort. She rose from her seat. But she’d had so very many discomforts. The thoughts came to her in an overpowering onslaught. She pushed her fingers to her temples and tried to will them away. But to no avail. She walked toward the door and turned the doorknob.

But Ash had plenty of bad memories and old heartaches. It was never supposed to be this way. I want to remember Draeon laughing, walking in the sunshine through his garden, or Akaji—so handsome, so brilliant, with his chalice of mead and his audience of crows—but I can’t. When I think of them, all I can see is betrayal, love turned to dust and ashes and the hard, frozen blackness of their eyes, from the battlefield or gazing down from the dragon pit, and I cannot deny the bitter truth that this darkness holds; they tried to kill me, to still my breath and pulse. As much as this should shock me, it no longer does. Ash closed her eyes. Such a waste. They could have given so much to the world, with all that potential. Now all they will ever be is a footnote in my memoirs, as I continue on, down this perilous path.

She braced for the bitter cold, wishing the sun would rise faster, and burn up the day. But that would not happen for several hours. She walked out to the old wood pile and gathered up in her arms as much as she could carry, before trekking back, with an armload of wood, to make a breakfast fire with. There was still dragon meat to eat. So long as you added a bit of salt and pepper, it wasn’t too bad, as tough a meat as it was.

Eventually, she sat down to a cup of tea. Her thoughts naturally bent toward Evendown, the kingdom that she’d once almost been the queen of, along with her then-king-to-be, Edward. She wanted to see him, but she didn’t dare. To do so would be breaking a dire social taboo. Besides, Will and Terces wouldn’t have gone there, and much as she liked the idea of recruiting the king to her quest, she realized what a futile hope that really was. We walked our path, years ago. Sometimes you just had to let people go.

She took a sip, savoring the tea’s warmth and flavor.

Home would never be anywhere but where she made it. What a cruel trick of fate. With Malegaunt running amok, home would never be anywhere at all. Malegaunt was only a name to Ash. She’d never actually seen him—didn’t know if he was a human or a dragon, a fairy or a demon. How did you go about forming a plan to fight something whose appearance was unknown?

Another sip.

She was startled from her considerations by something tapping against the glass of the window and looked over to see that it was a familiar crow named Gruck. My first step should be the gypsy camp. I’ll be able to get you home to the fortune teller, Indrick, before unloading all of these *ahem* by-products. She walked over and opened the window. Then she let Gruck perch on her shoulder, and she left the house to retrieve Slick, opening the door and stepping out into the woods. Hey there, Gruck. Thank goodness you stuck around. You’ll keep me safe from any of the dragons roaming through these woods. The crows were famous for taking down dragons, first plucking out their eyes, and then going to work on the rest of the beast, ‘til nothing was left, but a nasty, bloody carcass. Ash quickly got bored, so she began talking to Gruck as though he were another human being. "So when I was younger, I ran away to this place for