Gathering Shadows: Time and Tide, #3

By Seth A. Feldman

The Niranite revolt is over, but chaos continues to spread. Vigilantes gather in the wilderness, plotting to do away with the surviving Guardians, while the citizens express a growing dissatisfaction with King Joseph's reign. As the Monarchy struggles to retain control, they discover a new threat gathering in the ancient places of the land.

Such confusion offers the perfect chance for Cain Forester to seek his own revenge. But will his plans put him at odds with his old friends? The hunters are already stretched thin, and time is running out. As the true enemies reveal themselves, those who defend the realm begin to realize that it may already be too late to stop them.

At the center of it all, Leah Godfrey's search for answers finally bears fruit, but the truth turns her world upside-down. Before she can adjust to her ever-changing reality, she must face a crucible of trials that will remake her into the hero Tora Danya needs her to be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Seth A. Feldman
• Release date: Oct 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9780996671972

Book preview

PART I

Confrontations

Chapter 1

Penance Walk

CALEB STORM SHUFFLED onward beneath the blazing sun, wondering if he deserved this chance at redemption.

How could forgiveness be an option? He had been hateful and manipulative, rigid and unforgiving. Thanks to his machinations, hundreds of people had died. Some among them were those whom he had worked so hard to protect. Looking back, he understood his mistake: he had given in to resentment and fallen prey to fear. He had allowed himself to be exploited. His beliefs had been turned into a weapon by the people who manipulated him. A chance at redemption was more than Caleb deserved.

King Joseph had sent him on a penance walk from Nedo all the way back to Naphburn, where he would kneel before the people he wronged. The journey to redemption had begun in the royal city on the 1st of Cimenie’s Joy, nearly a month after his sentencing. Since then, he and his entourage, a cadre of twelve royal guardsmen, had traveled every day for a full week. The squad was led by a callous soldier called Sergeant Raine, who was often tipsy from ale and refused to reveal his first name. Raine and his men had been tasked by King Joseph with a twofold duty: first, they were to ensure Caleb completed his penance walk. Second, they were to protect him from vengeful citizens with designs on vigilante justice. The squad resented their mission. Raine fulfilled his role as Caleb’s taskmaster with gusto, but when it came to defending him from angry citizens, he did the job with little determination.

The soldiers pushed him mercilessly, demanding that he achieve at least fifteen miles per day. Thus far, his penance felt less like a renewal and more like a spectacle. His robes were stained with filth, his bare feet stricken with blisters. In the past week, the citizens of Tora Danya had let him know exactly how they felt about his crimes. They had threatened, ridiculed, and cursed him. They had pelted him with rocks, eggs, and feces. Caleb was not renewed; he was more devastated than ever.

Perhaps Nira, wherever she may be, was rightfully laughing at him.

To make his suffering worse, the date of his departure marked the beginning of a late-spring heat wave. The air reached temperatures usually reserved for mid-summer.

Great Nira, Caleb muttered to himself, as he sweltered on through the heat. I know not what I am to you, but more than ever, I need you. Your once-proud son has been reduced to the status of a hated insect. He mopped the sweat from his brow. Even if I pass this ordeal, what remains for me? Would execution have been preferable to this?

Oi, Storm! Sergeant Raine trotted his horse up beside Caleb. What are you babbling about down there?

Nothing.

Tell me, Raine insisted, kicking Caleb’s shoulder from the saddle. I won’t have you plotting your escape.

You needn’t worry about that, Caleb said.

Don’t forget, it’s your fault we have to be out here. If you do try to escape, I’ll take great pleasure in hunting you down.

Perhaps I should have chosen death over this farce.

You should have, Raine said. If you had gone to the gallows like everyone wanted, I would be back in Nedo rolling in the bed sheets with my Tawny, not escorting your bloody carcass halfway across the kingdom. King Joseph should have given you the noose and been done with it. Would have avoided this rubbish and made a hero of himself in the process. But no, he’s got to be ‘honorable,’ or some such nonsense, just like when he married that idiotic harlot for carrying his child.

Plenty of monarchs father bastards on whores, one of the other soldiers commented. Only Joseph was dumb enough to marry the filthy creature.

Yet you serve him willingly, Caleb said.

I came up under King Jared, Raine said. A good king. A strong king. Knew how to fight, knew how to win. Understood that pointless sentimentality will only tear a kingdom to shreds. I didn’t know his weakling son would get things so confused. Joseph has a generous heart, but he’s a right loon.

Caleb shambled gingerly on his blisters. There, we agree.

Sergeant, a third soldier called, trotting up beside them. We should reach Oakside by dusk. Word coming up the road is that they’ve prepared for a celebration.

The solstice festival isn’t for another two weeks, Raine said.

That’s not it. They’re commemorating the founding of the town. The question is: are we stopping to join them?

Gods, yes. Raine glared down at Caleb. No matter how slow this cretin wants to go, I’m not missing a party. Got my sights on a leg of mutton, a jug of wine, and a nice country virgin.

Dear me, Caleb muttered. What would Tawny say?

She won’t know if you keep your fucking mouth shut. Raine shoved the back of Caleb’s head with his boot. Eyes down, worm! You’re doing penance.

It was indeed dusk when they reached Oakside, where the townsfolk were preparing their celebration. While the festival was less elaborate than anything Caleb might have seen in a city such as Parabella or Nedo, the town was evocatively decorated. Blue and white streamers fluttered from the eaves of each house. Garlands of spring blossoms wrapped the lampposts and fences.

At first, the citizens didn’t recognize the downtrodden prisoner in stained Tamsalan robes, with his unshaven facial growth and his swollen feet, until one of the townsfolk recalled the King’s announcement that the fallen chieftain would be making his penance walk in their direction.

Caleb’s entourage confirmed his identity, but Raine did little to dissuade the townsfolk from receiving Caleb with a hail of rotten fruit and splatters of festival paint. Their curses weren’t so different from what he’d suffered in other towns.

Get outta here, you louse!

Murderer! Ain’t you ruined enough lives?

May the Gods curse you and your rotten tribe, Storm!

An irate farmer pushed to the front of the line, dug a hand-spade into his wooden bucket, and flung a ball of runny offal onto Caleb’s face. The odor gave away its nature.

Present from the cattle! the farmer cackled. Plenty more where that came from!

Ay, don’t be wasting good fertilizer on that piece of filth! his wife commanded.

Only after the crowd had their say did an elderly man approach. A long grey beard dangled over his red ceremonial robes. What is all this? he demanded.

It’s that Niranite filth, Caleb Storm! the farmer shouted. He’s on his so-called penance walk!

Figured we’d give him a proper Oakside welcome! his wife declared.

Enough! Smoothing his robes, the old man approached the soldiers. I’m Lomas Weir, the mayor of Oakside. Why have you come?

I’m Sergeant Raine. The soldier dismounted and bowed. We’re charged with protecting Storm during his journey.

An odious task, Weir said.

We need to stop for the night, Raine said, and we hope to join you in honoring your village.

I would never turn away the Royal Legion, Weir said. "You may join us. He may sit under the Weeping Oak. He pointed to the south side of the village, where an ancient, lonely tree stood brooding over the farmland. I shan’t have him spoiling the festivities."

Understood. Signaling two of his men, Raine ordered, Take him up to the tree. I’ll send someone to relieve you in a few hours.

The soldiers traded distasteful glances but complied. Just don’t make it too long, one said. I’m starving.

Me too, Raine returned, ogling a village maiden as she frolicked by. I’m going to sample the local cuisine.

Caleb sat in meditation as the sun set and the town sprang to life. From the hilltop, he could spy torchlit figures bouncing around the settlement. He shut out the jubilant stream of laughter and music.

These are not my people, he whispered. This is not my festival. I don’t belong here.

The rat is talking to himself again, one of his guards said.

He’s insane, the other answered.

Storm! Wake up, over there!

Caleb’s eyes snapped open.

Sing us a song, the second guard said.

A song? Caleb asked.

You know, some raunchy Niranite tune about hairy tribal women. Come on, we’re dying of boredom up here! If we can’t be at the celebration, we’ll make our own.

I know no songs, Caleb said. None that will please you.

Aw, I don’t believe that, the soldier said. Come on. Tell us about those fiery warrior wenches!

Yeah, they like to be on top? the first soldier asked. Tear up the pillows and leave teeth marks on your willy?

Caleb closed his eyes.

You’re no fun, the second soldier said. How long we have to sit next to this sodding tree? I want to feast!

Caleb tuned them out. Mother Nira, I sit beneath this reverent oak awaiting your strength. Why won’t you guide your loyal son? I’ve made my mistakes, but have I betrayed you so deeply that you turn your back on me? Or is it true that you no longer exist?

No. He couldn’t think that way. Nira was listening; he needed to maintain his faith.

You’d be better off praying to a rock, Storm, the first guard said. Everyone knows the story: Nira betrayed the old kingdom and died two thousand years ago. She’s as dead as our beloved Tora!

If you really want to repent, the other guard added, start by giving up that savage religion.

Edmund Rourke is fond of saying that Nira’s greatest gift was strife, for only in suffering may we grow, Caleb thought. Could this be another one of your tests? Mother Nira, please answer me!

A humid breeze rustled the leaves overhead, but it did little to break the heat of the evening. Caleb sat in rumination for a while, ignoring the taunts of his two companions. He gazed up into the web of twigs and branches. Through them, he viewed the ivory glow of a full moon. Tracing its beams down the trunk and back to the ground, he spotted a community of small plants among the sprawling roots of the oak. He scooted closer for a better look, finding several samples of a bright green stalk with three pointed leaves.

Pentflower.

He reached out to pick one.

Can’t be a coincidence.

He meditated on Nira’s glory until a pair of guards appeared to relieve the others.

Down to the village with you, one of them ordered. Plenty of food left.

About time, the first of Caleb’s guards said. I’m bloody starving. Don’t let this bloke get to you, by the way. He’ll talk your ear off.

You! Caleb called. Send for the apothecary, please.

Why?

I am unwell, Caleb said. My blisters are agonizing, and I feel feverish.

Serves you right.

You’re meant to protect me, yes? I doubt the King would thank you for letting me perish from illness.

Fine, the guard said. Long as I don’t have to look at your face any longer.

The new pair of guards showed no interest in Caleb’s health. Stuffed with food and gaiety, they sat down beside the oak and began to sing in unison of tavern brawls and lustful maidens.

Before long, a hunched old man ascended the hill. He was clearly perturbed by the interruption, as evidenced by the sour expression on his bony face. Someone asked for me?

Are you an herbalist? Caleb asked.

I am the apothecary, the man said. What do you want? Do hurry.

I require aloe for my feet and sunburns, Caleb said. Sergeant Raine will pay king’s gold for your services.

I’ll bring you aloe.

I also need meadow star.

The apothecary stared suspiciously back at him. What do you need that for?

To help me sleep. I don’t feel well.

I’ll bring you valerian. A strong dose of that will put you out.

Valerian gives me welts, Caleb said. I need meadow star.

Sighing, the apothecary turned to go. Fine, but I’m only bringing you one leaf. Any more than that and I’ll tell your sergeant that you’re trying to commit suicide.

I promise you, that’s not my goal.

Ten minutes later, the old apothecary returned with a vial of aloe and a single serrated leaf about two inches long. Caleb easily recognized it as meadow star, a five-leafed plant that grew in spades among the meadows of central Tora Danya. It was a natural sleep aid, but long ago, Caleb’s dream-seeker mystics had taught him that meadow star, when mixed with the correct herbs, bestowed other gifts.

He scooted closer to the tree trunk and began to rub the aloe on his blisters. The guards quickly lost interest and continued their banter. Once they were absorbed in conversation, he pulled a sprig of pentflower from between the roots and squeezed the stem with his fingers to express the aroma. It smelled fresh and hardy.

He popped the meadow star into his mouth.

For sleep.

Then, he added the entire pentflower sprig, including the stem and dangling thread-like roots.

For wisdom.

He crushed both plants between his teeth, using his tongue to stir the earthy ingredients into his saliva until a fine mixture emerged. For a moment, he let it seep into his glands, ruminating on the bitter flavors, then swallowed. Once it was consumed, he crossed his legs and meditated on his breath.

He drifted for a time, feeling the drowsy weight of unconsciousness approaching. The sounds of his world began to muffle, until the chattering voices of the guards seemed to drop in pitch. He opened his eyes briefly to behold the lights from the village growing more intense. The settlement seemed to burst with the energy of its reveling citizens, until its aura merged with the torchlight, melting into a blinding glow that filled his vision.

His chin dropped onto his chest. His eyes closed.

He found himself floating in a timeless void. There, he drifted for uncounted moments. It was as though he hung suspended in the bliss of eternity, as though he had always been there and always would be. When his focus returned, he sensed he was lying on his back, arms unfurled at his sides. He opened his eyes—or he thought he did—and gazed into the creaking branches, where the leaves sizzled with energy, rattling within their own aura. Beyond them, the moon loomed ten times its normal size, flooding the sky with radiance.

Caleb felt himself rise from the ground, passing harmlessly through the many arms of the Weeping Oak, and into the field of dazzling silver.

Mother Nira, come to me. Bring me strength. Bring me truth. Tell me that my suffering has a purpose.

Above him, the moon started to change, squeezing into the shape of an inverted pear.

Please help me in my time of need! Divine Fury, hear me!

Her voice rang out in his head.

CALEB.

The moon shifted again, transforming into a radiant female.

Mother?

I AM HERE.

Caleb had felt the presence of his goddess in the spirit realm before, but he had never encountered her directly. She was partly armored, wearing a golden harness and shell-like leggings. Ashen grey hair fell over her shoulders and covered her naked breasts. Her body was lean and toned, decorated with the same red tattoos that her followers wore. She carried a jeweled scepter in her right hand.

She was not as Caleb expected. She was impressive, no doubt, but her square jaw and shimmering sapphire eyes granted her an icy, commanding beauty that was more suited to a noble queen than the vicious, vengeful goddess to whom Caleb’s clan bowed.

Can it be? Is it truly you?

DOES MY FORM NOT MEET YOUR EXPECTATION? WOULD YOU RATHER I LOOK THE PART OF THE FIERCE PROTECTRESS?

In a flash, her face melted into a ghastly mockery of itself, rotted and skeletal with a protruding tongue. Her scepter became a fiery sword.

Caleb fell to his knees in terror. No! I’m sorry, Mother. Your form is perfect. We have called you the Divine Fury, and that name brought a different image to mind.

She flashed again, this time appearing as a winged demon with two forked tongues and hair of azure flame. Black blood pumped through translucent veins, dripping from her talons.

Caleb cowered before her.

GODS HAVE MANY FACES. I COME TO YOU AS YOU NEED ME.

He summoned his courage and looked upward. The noble battle queen had returned.

Mother Nira, I have failed you. I know I have gone astray. But I have always been your obedient son. Please, forgive me.

YOU HAVE BESMIRCHED MY NAME, CALEB. YOU HAVE TURNED ME INTO A WEAPON OF HATRED AND FEAR.

I accept your judgment.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR ACTIONS, BUT I DO NOT BLAME YOU. TO DENY ANY MAN THEIR RIGHT TO INNER STRIFE WOULD BETRAY MY NATURE.

But how can you possibly forgive me for leading your followers to their deaths? There are so few of us left, now. My weakness has led me to destroy all you stand for.

THOSE SINS LIGHT YOUR PATH TO WISDOM. IT IS NOT MY PLACE TO TAKE THAT FROM YOU.

I’ve brought this suffering upon myself, then?

IN PART. THIS CONFLICT GOES BACK FURTHER THAN YOUR LIFETIME. YOUR ACTIONS ARE YOURS, BUT YOU HAVE BEEN INFLUENCED BY ANOTHER WILL.

Who, then? Who has led me to ruin your legacy?

DESPAIR.

Despair?

BEWARE, CALEB. HE IS CLEVER.

I don’t understand. Mother, I suffer needlessly at the hands of Tora Danya. Will you ease my pain?

NO. YOUR SUFFERING IS YOURS TO BEAR. THROUGH IT, YOU HAVE OPENED THE DOOR TO YOUR HEART, AND WE HAVE COMMUNED. YOU AND I ARE NOW BONDED. I WILL BE WITH YOU UNTIL YOUR PURPOSE IS SERVED.

What purpose? What must I do for you?

A tremor shook the void, jarring Caleb halfway out of his reverie. He struggled to hold onto the vision.

Mother?

THE WORLD HAS CRACKED. THE BALANCE HAS TIPPED. CHAOS WILL BREAK FREE. BUT DO NOT GIVE IN TO DESPAIR. WHEN THE TIME COMES, YOU WILL DO WHAT YOU MUST.

Wait! Don’t leave me!

Wake up, you dozy bastard!

Caleb jolted upright, the light of day glaring in his pupils. His head was heavy with the fog of sleep. Don’t leave... he muttered, rubbing away the saliva smeared across his cheek.

Blimey, what did you eat? Sergeant Raine sneered. The herb-man says he brought you blister cream and a single sleeping leaf.

Goddess... Caleb rocked forward, cradling his aching head.

You sure he didn’t drink anything? Raine asked his men.

I swear, we didn’t give him nothing! one soldier answered. He ate that leaf and went into a trance. We didn’t even notice until we asked him if he was hungry. By then, he was out cold.

I-I’m fine, Caleb said, brushing the soil from his robes.

Raine helped him to his feet. Out with it. Which of these plants did you eat?

Caleb glanced down at the roots. Pentflower.

Why would you do something like that? You trying to die?

I wanted to commune with my goddess.

Of course you did, he grumbled. Did it work?

I believe so. Caleb shifted position a few times, looking for a posture that wouldn’t aggravate the blisters on his soles. For the first time ever, she spoke to me.

Raine rolled his eyes. What did old Mother Nira say, then?

She told me not to despair.

Despair of what?

She said, ‘The world will crack. Chaos will break free.’ She told me I must be ready.

I don’t buy this reformation bunk, Rain said. You’re the same crazy zealot you ever were. Get your act together so we can move on. The people here don’t like you, and neither do I.

Storm closed his eyes in silent prayer. Thank you, Nira, for confirming that I still have a purpose... whatever it may be.

Chapter 2

Warning Signs

LEAH WAS SURPRISED that the trip to Naphburn went so quickly. The first time she had made the journey, she had traveled through the snowy winter with the Royal Army. Some had been on horseback, some on foot, and a slow wagon train of supplies had followed them. This time, it was spring. She and Daniel Janssen departed Nedo on the 15th of Bloom, two weeks before Caleb Storm began his penance walk. They were free to travel on faster steeds, alternating between trots and canters, and they covered the distance in ten days, including nightly and midday stops. Once they reached Arinnley Province, travel slowed in the hills, but Daniel was familiar with the easiest routes.

Naphburn had largely recovered. The Niranite threat was over. Ronan Gedrick was dead. Caleb Storm was in custody. The fear was gone, and with it, the shadow of violence. Likewise, the triumphant relief exhibited by the citizens upon victory had faded, but it remained a vibrant place, bustling with business and art.

Leah approached Shani’s Grace with a sense of apprehension; the last time she had been here, a vicious battle had claimed many people, some of whom she considered friends. When she had last seen the courtyard, it had been in ruins, overshadowed by a plume of smoke rising from the castle’s tallest tower. Now, as she trotted through the gatehouse and pulled to a halt, she was pleased to find that the grounds had been cleansed of Guardian presence. The burned trees had been replaced by saplings. The blood and refuse had been washed away, and in their place grew budding flowers around a brand-new cobblestone path. Gardeners and servants moved around the expanse, tending to the plants and decorating the grounds.

Leah was happy to see Lady Annika awaiting her outside the keep. The baroness’s lieutenant, the barrel-chested Nathaniel Quinn, stood at her left. An unfamiliar gentleman stood at her right.

Miss Godfrey! Annika called. I was pleased to learn that you were returning with Daniel. Welcome back to Shani’s Grace. Now you can see it as it was meant to be seen.

Ignoring all pretense of social station, Leah leapt off her horse and raced to meet Annika. The Gaventine noblewoman was just as Leah remembered, with her white-gold locks and her elegant gown. That same facial scar marred her striking features, but her beauty persisted in spite of it. She even smelled of the same sweet scent she had worn during the feast celebrating her victory over the Guardians. I can’t believe how fast you’ve cleaned up around here.

A few months were all I needed, Annika said.

Daniel Janssen dismounted his horse. Leah, I’ve told you before: you’re far too familiar with the nobility.

Indeed, Quinn answered, crossing his muscled forearms. Well, Miss Godfrey, it seems you’re no more respectful of your station than you were when we were at war.

It is no trouble, Annika said. This girl defended me with her life.

Quinn uncrossed his arms and stood offended. As if I didn’t?

She is no soldier, Annika said. You, on the other hand, live for combat.

Jealous, Lieutenant? Leah joked. It’s good to see you’ve also recovered from the battle.

Leah was also there for me after the battle, Annika said, taking her hand. We have something of a bond, no?

Daniel watched with interest.

The unfamiliar gentleman at Annika’s right stepped forward. I’ve heard much about this girl. I must say, I’m not at all disappointed.

Leah, Annika said, gesturing to the gentleman. May I introduce you to Luthor Cormack, the Mayor of Kilboerning?

Leah recalled passing through Kilboerning on her first trip to Arinnley, when she and the Royal Legion stopped to rest. The city lay at the northern end of the province, along Lake Eryll. Mayor Cormack had welcomed them and reinforced them with some of his own soldiers, but Leah hadn’t met the man himself until now.

Luthor Cormack was an attractive man, she decided, even if he was decades ahead of her. His shoulders were broad beneath his ruffled silk tunic, and he looked fit for his age. His dark hair was brushed neatly back from his forehead, revealing streaks of distinguished grey. A circular goatee came to a dapper point at the bottom of his chin.

Annika speaks well of you, Luthor said, taking both of Leah’s hands. Unfortunately, it seems our Gaventine lady doesn’t possess the vocabulary to properly express your beauty.

Leah blushed. Well, I... Thank you.

Stop it. Annika slapped Luthor across the belly. Was that a joke about my accent?

Of course not, Luthor responded, his face solemn. Not all of us can be poets, whatever tongue we use.

You’re a poet, then, Leah inferred.

I dabble, Luthor said, finally dropping her hands and offering a matter-of-fact shrug. In many things.

Leah noted that advancing age had done nothing to dampen Luthor Cormack’s confidence. His eyes sparkled with a keen intellect—one that took her off-guard—and by the way he smirked, he was aware of his own aptitude. Well, I’m pleased to know you, she said.

You as well, Luthor bowed. A friend of Lady Annika’s is a friend of mine.

You have the most curious way of making friends, Daniel commented to Leah. Bandits, hunters, and aristocrats alike.

Well, how could she not? Luthor said. Are you jealous of the attention, Janssen?

Not as such. Daniel gave Luthor’s hand a brisk shake. It’s good to see you again.

Quite, Luthor said, and under more pleasant circumstances. That business last winter... He shuddered. Abominable.

Annika stepped forward and kissed Daniel on the cheek. Thank you for coming.

I did promise to return as an advisor until Naphburn was stabilized, Daniel said, and it appears that I’m late. Though perhaps I am not needed? If I’d known that Mayor Cormack had come to stay with you...

I will take all the help I can get, Annika said. My city still mourns the loss of Duncan and the whole MacDougal line. I have had success with the people, but some of them seem to think it is inappropriate for a foreigner to administer a Tora Danyan province without the presence of a true-blooded spouse.

That’s why I’ve come, Luthor said.

Are you going to marry her? Leah asked.

It’s a bit early for that, Luthor said. "A woman should mourn her husband for at least a year before promising herself to another, but suffice to say that if the locals think I’m going to marry her, they’ll feel better about her rule. I have a certain reputation among the folk of Arinnley."

That’s one word for it, Quinn muttered.

But let us not dwell on politics! Annika waved them toward the keep. Come inside! Come see the new furnishings. Daniel, you will not believe how the craftsmen have repaired the premises. It looks even better than before!

Daniel watched in silence as the others followed her, his eyes shifting between Leah and Annika.

Aware of his gaze, Leah returned to his side. What is it?

What do you mean?

I’ve told you everything I remember about my father, and since I ran out of stories, you’ve been looking at me like you have something to say.

It’s nothing.

With you, it’s never nothing.

It’s just this place, he said. An ancient family bloodline has been destroyed, and we stand among the ashes of its ruin. Doesn’t that give you pause?

Maybe, she answered. I didn’t know them very well.

Are you coming? Annika shouted, ushering Luthor and Quinn through the gate. It is too hot out. Let’s get out of the sun!

Signs of battle were still visible around the interior of Shani’s Grace—a scorched wall here, a cracked floor there—but skilled artisans were hard-at-work on repairs. The décor matched the vibrant highland tendencies found all around Arinnley, with bright colors and complex artwork. Portraits and tapestries covered the walls, though Leah wondered how many of them had been placed to cover recent damage. Regardless, they weren’t the only manner of artwork. Statuettes, reliefs, and ornate pottery lay in every chamber Leah could see.

Milady, Leah said, traipsing happily alongside Annika. Where do all these statues and figurines come from?

My own touch, Annika said. Sculpture is popular in my homeland. I have been collecting since I arrived here years ago. Duncan wasn’t around often enough to care how I decorated and... well, these are different from what we’d find in Gaventel, but they have always made me feel at-home.

I know what it’s like to feel out of place, Leah said. The castle seems very bright, but it must feel empty without Lord Duncan.

It does, Annika said, but not as much as you might think. Duncan was so often away.

What for?

His campaigns against Niranism, of course. She sighed. Always trying to convince the Monarchy to outlaw the religion, always trying to convince the people to back him. You know, for years, I told him that he was overreacting to the danger, but in the end, it really was the Niranites that killed him.

Guardian Niranites killed him, Leah corrected. The Heretics... Edmund Rourke... They wouldn’t do that.

I’m happy you have such confidence in them, Luthor Cormack answered from several steps behind. Not everyone in Naphburn is so charitable.

The venom extends outside this region, Daniel said. On our way here, Leah and I ran into quite a bit of anti-Niranite sentiment.

Some of the people want all Niranites rounded up and killed, Leah said. The Heretics included.

Yes, we’ve heard the news, Quinn said. King Joseph accepted an oath of fealty from Edmund Rourke. He’s allied himself with the Heretics.

They did help us free this very castle, Leah said. You were there, Lieutenant.

I remember, Quinn grunted. I fought alongside them. Surely, the people must know that Rourke and his clan aided in the victory.

Some don’t believe it happened that way, Leah said, and a lot of people seem to think the Heretics helped us only to save themselves from the Monarchy’s judgment.

Yes, not everyone trusts the Heretics, Annika said, and not everyone likes Joseph’s decision to accept them. We have the same dissidents in Naphburn. Perhaps you can speak to them, Daniel?

I’ve told the people there is no more Niranite threat, Daniel said. They refuse to listen. The Heretics keep to themselves, and all that remains of the Guardians are the ones that were left behind during the revolt; the old, the young, the sick.

Do you foresee a problem for these survivors? Luthor asked.

I’m concerned, Daniel answered. Leave it at that for the time being.

I no longer fear them, Annika said. Caleb Storm is powerless. Wolfe Strife-son is dead. Ronan Gedrick, may diseased vermin feast on his rotting bones, is also dead. The Heretics, should they prove evil, don’t possess enough manpower to threaten us. Gesturing to a pair of passing guards, she added, Our local forces have been replenished by both the Monarchy and the charity of surrounding nobles. The Niranites will never threaten us again.

No, Daniel answered, but I worry what evil might lie in the shadow of their ruin.

By the Gods, Daniel, Leah said. You’re even gloomier than Cain.

He grimaced. There’s no need to be insulting.

Chapter 3

A New Lead

CAIN WAS NEVER comfortable challenging Broddick. The wily bandit was constantly on guard, and he seemed to sense dishonesty the way most people detected a nearby cow pasture. Even worse, Broddick was imminently prepared to stick one of his many stilettos into the vital organs of any creature, human or animal, that he deemed a threat. To him, survival was paramount.

Nevertheless, dealing with Broddick was unavoidable in Cain’s position. Since Cain had killed Silas Glenville, the Bunson Wood Bandits had split into two factions. The savvier and more sophisticated of the lot had turned to Broddick as their spokesman, while the rowdier and more slovenly rascals had nominated the unsavory Finn as their leader. So far, Broddick and Finn were both peacefully aligned with Cain, as the bandits were still intrigued by the ex-hunter’s plan of sowing chaos within the Monarchy and bringing down the despised Hunters Guild. But they expected gold, and they expected it quickly. Thus far, Cain had helped them stage the significant robbery of a manor in the city of Kora, but they wanted more.

Eric hadn’t taken sides. He seemed the most affected by Silas’s demise, though he showed no malice toward Cain for causing it. Cain knew that Eric had considerable psychic abilities, which Silas had used to his own advantage. With Silas gone, Eric wandered the camp without purpose, and it sometimes took prompting from Cain or Jenny to move him into any practical task.

Jenny herself remained loyal to Cain regardless of his decisions. The bond between them was plain to see, but neither would explain to their cohorts why it existed.

In light of these various factions, it was unsurprising to Cain that the spokespeople were the ones who came to mediate whenever a disagreement formed. At present, it was Broddick and Finn who faced him, with Jenny and Eric waiting back at camp.

Look here! Finn said in a forceful whisper. His bird’s-nest of filthy hair tangled above the cloth covering his mouth and nose. If we let ‘em go now, we lose the best part of the job!

I say we’ve got all we need, Cain answered, his face concealed by a grinning porcelain mask with dark, arching eyebrows. Let them go.

If you’re gonna be so damned sentimental, we can find a new leader, Finn argued.

Broddick stood beside them, his own face covered by a hood with ragged eyeholes. Take the brooch or don’t, he said, but we need to move on before someone else comes and we’re forced to kill witnesses.

Exactly, Cain said. These people we’re robbing are already at our mercy. If we leave now, we won’t have to kill anyone.

Tension mounted on the shady woodland road. Cain and seven other bandits had surrounded the coach of one Manus Worthington, a wealthy fur-trader from northern Orandel. In addition to pelts from Tora Danya, Worthington was known to acquire the furs of Gaventine beavers, otters, and sables, allegedly from King Janne’s royal huntsman. Broddick claimed that Worthington had been a benefactor of Silas’s, and that Silas had declared him off-limits. Now that Silas was gone, the bandits were eager to get a share of Worthington’s exquisite imports. Cain saw no reason to stand in their way, especially if it kept the gang happy. When the bandits learned that Worthington would be taking his wares westward into Oceanward, a heist was quickly planned and executed south of the Bunson Wood.

Worthington regarded himself as untouchable due to Silas’s protection; he was noticeably surprised by the attack. Six of the bandits, all armed and masked, had dropped out of the trees and surrounded the carriage when the road was otherwise empty. Now, they stood anxiously in the shade of the pines, sweating in the scorching heat of the late-spring sun. Three of Worthington’s guards sat around his coach on horseback, their hands suspended over their heads in response to the bandit arrows ready to pierce them. The fourth armored guard, who had been inside the coach with Worthington and his wife, now stood protectively outside the vehicle, awaiting the bandits’ next move.

Cain and Broddick had taken the furrier’s expensive cargo, while Finn had relieved Manus and his wife of their jewelry. The only remaining piece in their possession was a sparkling diamond brooch around the throat of Worthington’s posh wife. The real fun had started when Finn demanded it.

Let’s go, Cain whispered to his cohorts. We’re making fools of ourselves. The furs alone will make us rich.

I’m not leaving without that brooch! Finn insisted.

I say! Worthington called to them from inside the coach. You’ve got what you came for. As I’ve told you, my wife’s brooch is a precious heirloom from her dear mother. It’s quite irreplaceable.

Shut up! Finn commanded. Step out of that coach and I’ll gut you!

Manus, darling, his wife replied, reaching up to unclasp the brooch. Let them have it, all right? Mother wouldn’t want us killed over the blasted thing.

He pulled her arm downward. "I will allow no such thing. These treasure seekers shouldn’t even be targeting us in this region. Silas Glenville will hear about this!"

Silas Glenville is dead, Broddick replied.

Master Worthington, said the guard on foot, I’ve dealt with this sort. I warn you not to antagonize them. We don’t have the numbers to oppose them.

We’re done here, Cain said to the bandits. Just let her keep her mother’s damned brooch.

Everything’s about parents with you, isn’t it, hunter? Finn snarled beneath his mask. If you’re going to sympathize with our marks, you’re costin’ us more than you’re worth. I’m tellin’ you, that brooch is the most valuable thing on this job, and I ain’t leavin’ without it!

Fine, Cain signaled to his gang. The rest of us are leaving. You can stay here and try to get the brooch.

No, Broddick responded, delivering his own signal to the gang. We do not leave our brothers behind.

The eighth bandit, acting as a look-out in the tree branches, whistled down to them. Got a slow caravan coming this way, kids! If we don’t move within the next minute, we’re caught!

Shit, Cain hissed. Come on, forget the blasted thing and let’s go!

Right. Finn unsheathed a rusty knife and stalked over to the coach. Grabbing the hair of the nearest guard, he wrenched back the man’s head and pulled the blade across his throat, opening him from ear to ear. He tossed the guard’s twitching body into the cab, spilling a geyser of blood all over the white summer dress of Worthington’s screaming wife.

"You see this guy? Finn poised with his foot on the lip of the coach, knife extended toward his victims. Give me the fucking brooch or you’re next, understand? Give me the fucking brooch! Give it!"

The bandits looked from one to the other frantically, but they held their positions, bows drawn and ready to fire on the other four guards.

Worthington’s wife sat paralyzed in horror as the man bled out in her lap. Her husband fumbled with the clasp of the brooch for what felt like an eternity to Cain, at last unhinging it and tossing it into Finn’s greedy hands.

Let’s go! Cain ordered, picking up as many of the captured sacks as he could hold. Take everything you can carry and get the hell out of here!

Next time, it’ll be you! Finn warned the merchant. Then, with a wild-eyed grin discernable even beneath his mask, he followed the others into hiding.

When all eight of the bandits were safely away from the road, doubled over and out of breath, Cain collected his thoughts. The job had gone sideways, but most of the furs and all of the jewelry were in their possession. Even now, some of the bandits were taking stock of each stolen item.

These people are talented, he thought, but how the hell did Silas get them to work as a cohesive unit?

Still out of breath, Finn pulled off his mask and howled into the treetops. Hell, yeah! he cried. That’s what it’s about! The heart pumpin’, the blood rushin’, and piece-o’-crap aristocrats kissin’ every inch of our arses! He held the diamond brooch up to the sun. See, Cain? It was worth it!

Cain removed his porcelain mask and drove his fist into Finn’s gut. Gagging and gasping, Finn crumpled to his knees.

I told you! Cain pointed down at him. There’s no point in killing unless our lives are at stake! They never fought back!

They... They did... Finn said, struggling to speak. I told ‘em to give me the brooch... and they refused.

That stupid brooch isn’t worth a fraction of the loot we made off with, and it’s certainly not worth getting hung for that guard’s murder! I don’t know what you think is so special about that thing.

What’s important... Finn said, forcing himself to look Cain in the eye, "...is that the lady’s fat, overprivileged arse didn’t want to give it up, but I made her do it. Now, it’s mine. That’s what’s important."

Cain raised his hand to strike Finn a second time, but Broddick grabbed his arm and held it in place. Enough. Not only was the wiry bandit still wearing his hood, but he wasn’t remotely out of breath. If Cain didn’t know better, he wouldn’t have believed Broddick had just been sprinting. Let’s all go back to camp and count our spoils. Then, we need to move to a new location. Guardsmen will be combing this part of the woods soon.

Finn staggered to his feet, steadied his breathing, and flipped his hair back with a flick of his neck. Don’t ever hit me again, Cain, he warned. You do and I’ll forget our little arrangement.

Don’t disobey orders, don’t get hit, Cain said. Simple.

They glared at each other until Broddick urged them to move out.

Six bandits had been left to guard the camp. Among them were Jenny, Eric, Old Man Tarsus, and a swarthy fellow named Jordan, who had yet to earn Cain’s trust. Finn’s faction, which included Jordan and Tarsus, happily joined the returning bandits in sorting through the various furs and jewels, discussing how and where to sell which goods, while Broddick directed his faction to start taking down the tents and packing possessions.

Cain sat cross-legged between Jenny and Eric, rubbing his forehead and grumbling.

What’s wrong? Jenny asked. Things not go as planned?

What makes you think something’s wrong? Cain asked.

How long have I known you? Jenny returned.

She’s right, Eric added. I don’t n-need my abilities to tell you’re upset. He shifted his eyes between them. "How l-long have you known her?"

Never mind, Cain said. Finn killed someone.

Again? Jenny shot Finn a dirty glance. Figures.

He’s done this before? Cain asked.

Silas knew Finn was a killer, she said. Used to send him on special missions to eliminate underworld competition.

Surely, he’s not the only killer here, Cain said, but I don’t see the others haphazardly slaughtering our victims.

Finn’s the most unpredictable among us, Jenny said. Silas liked him because there’s nothing he won’t do. It’s good to have a tool like that hanging around. Maybe you’ll learn to make the most of him, too.

Make the most of him, Cain repeated. I’ll make a bloody heap of him if he disobeys me again.

You can only control these jokers to such an extent, Jenny said. Silas knew how to keep each and every one of them happy by giving them jobs that made the most of their twisted fantasies. That way, they’d listen when he put his foot down. Most of the time. You’ll get the hang of it.

F-Finn likes killing, Eric said, glancing over his shoulder at the celebrating bandits. Even now, I can feel his juh...joy.

Picking up a nearby wineskin, Cain took a long drink. What about you, Jenny? he asked, wiping the purple juice from his mouth. You ever kill anyone?

Well... She twisted her mouth. Besides the obvious, you mean?

I’m not counting him.

No, then. She teased her blonde curls. That’s not how I operate. I’ve even accepted capture a few times in lieu of murder. I’m not a combatant, Cain. I steal to survive, but not at the cost of my soul. I keep telling you: I’m only with this group for survival.

You don’t belong with these people.

And you do?

I do until I find Astrid Kensing. He tossed the wineskin to the ground. The hunters were bloody useless at tracking her down, especially since they were putting even more work into keeping her past a secret. But this crew? They have no loyalty to the Monarchy, and they have few qualms about what they’ll do. I know they can help me.

Cain? Eric said.

What?

He was silent for a moment. Nothing.

Broddick wandered over. Cain, he said, this is a decent haul, but the crew are starting to ask when we’re going to attack the Hunters Guild directly. You promised us you would undermine the Guild if we helped you find Kensing.

Yes, Cain said, and we haven’t found her yet.

Our associates want to know more about Astrid. If we’re going to fight her, they want to know what to expect. So far, you’ve only told us your own story. Broddick sat beside them. Cain Forester: the son of a merchant. Kensing invaded your home looking to rob you of a recent delivery of jewelry. She mistimed her adventure and ended up leaving no witnesses.

It was inaccurate, but it was the story Cain had told the bandits.

That’s all I recall, he said. I was five.

Five, but you managed to escape.

Through a window.

That doesn’t tell us much about what to expect from her, Broddick said. In fifteen years, her skills could have diminished. Or they could have improved. That worries me.

We have fourteen people, Cain said. We’ll be fine, as long as we play our hand properly.

Hm, Broddick mused. I’m going to share something with you, Forester, if only to improve trust between us.

Cain presented his full attention. Go ahead.

I know this Astrid, Broddick said. Well, not personally, but I know who she is.

How?

Let’s just say if you keep your ear to the ground, you can hear many rumblings in the underworld, Broddick said. Besides, Silas mentioned her once or twice. I pried out of him whatever information I could. I demanded to know why he was helping you all those years. He admitted that he had an idea of who you were looking for, and he also admitted that he didn’t want the rest of the gang involved. Said she was too dangerous.

So, you knew he was stringing me along? Cain asked.

I had a sense of it, Broddick said. Silas held a grudge against her, and he hoped you might apprehend her. Unfortunately, you were such a useful source of information that he was unwilling to end his partnership with you by simply giving her up. He gave you bits of truth one piece at a time.

Cain turned to his right. Jenny?

She did not know, Broddick said. I will tell you the truth, Forester: it was because I knew what Silas was doing to you that I was able to accept the fact that you killed him. But going after Astrid Kensing... Some of our associates are worried. They like your offer, but they’re beginning to admit that they’ve heard Astrid’s name in whispers. She’s much like Arthur Merring: one is never certain if the stories are true.

Why didn’t you tell me this before?

You keep your cards close to your chest, Cain, Broddick said. So do I. Still, I suppose your story about Astrid attempting to rob your merchant family makes sense. Her name has been connected to several high-profile robberies, after all.

This changes nothing, Cain said. I want her dead, and if you want help taking down the Guild, you help me first.

But the others are curious, Broddick said. You’ve hinted several times that you know something condemning about the Guild. Some secret that could ruin them. You’ve even suggested that revealing it might reflect poorly on the Monarchy. What could it be?

Eric! Finn called. Bring me that bloody wineskin! Hurry up, freak!

Eric obeyed. In a slight daze, he picked up the skin and wandered toward the group. Whatever was distracting his attention, however, led him to catch his foot on a protruding root and fall sprawling on his stomach. The skin flew from his hand and landed in the dirt, spilling wine across the forest floor.

Son of a bitch! Finn cried, springing to his feet. That was the last of the Oceanward Cherry!

Beat him, Jordan suggested. Freak deserves it if he can’t remember to keep his feet beneath him.

Don’t lay a hand on him! Cain ordered.

Why not? Jordan asked. Silas let us beat him. It’s the only way to keep the idiot in line.

Silas isn’t here anymore, is he? Cain called back.

Jordan took on an aggressive posture. Whose fault is that?

Enough! Broddick snapped. If Forester says leave the boy alone, you leave the boy alone. Disobey and you’ll end up with a stiletto through the eye.

Jordan dismissed them with a wave of his hand and turned his attention back to sorting the goods. Head down in shame, Eric made his way back to Cain and Jenny. He sat down and stared into nothingness, slowly rocking on his knees.

Thank you, he said. You’re even nicer to me than Silas was.

Silas wasn’t all that nice to you, Cain said. Not if he let the others hit you.

Yes, but he n-never hit me himself. And they only did it when I d-d-deserved it.

You never deserved it, Jenny said. I know you have trouble focusing, Eric, but why are you so distracted today?

Eric rapidly twiddled his fingers, contemplating some unspoken decision. At last, he said, There’s something I have to tell you, Cain.

What is it?

Again, he fell silent, anxiously playing with his own digits. I... I think I know where Astrid Kensing is.

What? Cain sat up straight. How?

I can sense her.

Sense her? Broddick narrowed his eyes.

Her presence is like... like Arthur Merring’s, Eric explained. When they’re within a certain range, I can feel it. I don’t know why.

How do you know it’s Astrid? Jenny said. What if it’s Arthur?

They feel different, Eric said. Hard to explain. Arthur is like a great shadow creeping from place to place, carefully w-watching everything he sees. Astrid is like... a shadow flitting through the wilderness... seeking suh... sex and blood, like an animal.

But how do you recognize her presence? Cain said. Have you met her before?

I first encountered her years ago, while I was w-wandering, homeless, Eric said. Before I met S-Silas. I was working at a brothel in Kora, carrying shit out of the toilets. Before they could respond, he grew defensive. I h-had to eat, right? I had to make coin somehow, and n-no one else would pay someone like me! ’Off to the den of harlots,’ they’d say!

All right, honey, it’s okay, Jenny said, wrapping her arm around his shoulder, as his stuttering worsened. We understand.

But when did you meet Astrid? Cain asked.

Eric took a moment to collect himself. There was a woman working there. Beautiful. Auburn hair. Sh-Showed her body quite often, even though she had many scars. B-But she was dark. Men desired her, paid a lot of money to be with her, but when they left her company, they seemed different.

Different how?

Scared. Sad.

That could be her, Cain speculated. According to both Lindsay Ryan and Astrid’s father, she has a taste for abusive sex, and she enjoys demoralizing men.

So, she’s a predator, Broddick said.

Eventually, all I could see in my mind was blood and d-death when she was near, Eric said. Couldn’t be around her anymore, so I left the brothel. That’s when I got caught filching that apple and met Silas in prison. I don’t know where she went after that, but her presence faded when we left the town.

Did you tell Silas about her? Cain asked.

Nuh...No, Eric said. I just wanted to forget. Silas trusted me more than these others, though. Used to tell me about himself when we were alone. Only after he told me about his past with Astrid did I suspect it was the same woman.

What are the chances? Jenny asked. Tora Danya is a big place.

Better than you think, Cain said, quietly appraising the facts. Astrid is from Galanie Province. Her father still lives in Baymont. I met him last winter. Eric says he met her in the city of Kora; it could be that, when she has nothing to do, she returns to Galanie, but not close enough to home that she would be recognized by anyone. Eric, you knew Silas was looking for her. Why didn’t you ever tell him that you could track her?

Because she f-frightens me, Eric said, again lowering his face to the shadows. If I had t-told Silas, he would have ordered me to find her. And I don’t want to be near her.

So, why are you telling me now? Cain asked.

Because you’re good to me, Eric said. Silas took care of me, but I was a tool to him. You treat me like a person. I want to help you.

All right, Cain said. So, where do you think Astrid is?

Facing him with a knowing smirk, Eric said, Galanie Province.

Home again, Cain said. This makes sense. With the acadium plot disrupted, she must be waiting for something else to do.

Back into hiding? Broddick asked.

Maybe. She vanished as soon as Lindsay unmasked her in Brewsk. No one knows where she went.

She’s south of here, Eric said, in the hills. It’s f-faint, but... I can sense her, lurking somewhere down there.

We’ll have to move quickly, Broddick said. If she’s in Kora, we should be able to get there in a week at most.

Wait, Jenny said. "I don’t understand. Eric, I know your abilities have been getting stronger as you get older, but... I mean, how strong are you? You can sense people from miles away?"

Only Arthur Merring and Astrid Kensing, he said. Well, there are a few others, too. I really don’t know why.

Others? Cain said. What others?

Occasionally, I sense a bitter mind. Eric said. A dishonest monster p-pretending to be valiant. And sometimes I sense a cold, vicious mind dreaming of nothingness.

Nothingness? Jenny asked. What does that mean?

I don’t know, Eric returned. That’s the only way I can describe it. It wants nothingness.

Cain sat in thought for a moment before clapping Eric on the back. You and Broddick go help the others pack up. The Bunson Wood Bandits are moving to Galanie.

Eric rose to his feet and shuffled off toward the other end of the camp, where six of the bandits were folding up tents.

We will speak again, Cain. Broddick’s words sounded more like a warning than an assertion. When he had joined the others, Jenny snatched Cain’s hand.

Watch out for him, Cain. He’s clever. If you’re not careful, he’ll figure out who you really are.

I doubt that, Cain said. Unless you tell him.

I wouldn’t dare. But what matters now is that we have a way to track Astrid. I want her caught as much as you do. Eric can help us.

There’s so much about Eric’s abilities that we don’t understand, that even he doesn’t understand. How is he sensing these people?

Why question our luck?

Because I’m curious, he said. Daniel thought it was disturbing that Arthur and Astrid were seemingly so talented. He also believed that they weren’t the only conspirators involved in the acadium affair. I wonder: did Eric just confirm the existence of two more?

Chapter 4

First Love

BRONWYN RYAN KNEW she was misbehaving.

She and her brother had spent several weeks during the month of Bloom searching for Astrid Kensing