Spirit of Chaos: Lirical Series, #3

By R. A. Morley

Revenge is over. The rescue is done. So why does it feel so... empty?

 

Kal makes the trek to Thalassa. To home. And he's not alone. 

 

It's not his sorted company that he's worried about—though, it's still undoubtedly something to worry about. It's the things he can't see but knows are there.

Everything is as it should be in the city-state. His family, the politics, the shops and taverns are all exactly as he remembered. But everything is somehow different. Things unsaid are finally spoken, and the news of it shatters Kal's world.

 

There's no time to sort out enemies and lovers and friends.

 

Ashtoret calls on him, where games of politics boarder between delicate and deadly. Secrets are spilled, fear is festering, and shadows are stalking. Even with a Huntsman at his side, Kal can't escape the tangled web the gods weave.

 

He's left with no other choice than to sail out from the Blistering Shores.

 

 

The final installment of the first trilogy, and part three of the Liricle series, things take a darker turn from here.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R. A. Morley
• Release date: Jul 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215392805

Book preview

Prologue

He looked the Huntsman over. Nothing impressive, not that he could tell. But he’d frozen up when he last saw his quarry, lost even. He couldn’t chance any interference in his plan—not after the painstaking work it took to find the source.

It turned out that the rumors were true. Nobody ever found Huntsman. Rather, they found you, listening to the whispered you’d said to no one in the dark. He neither knew, nor cared, how it worked. A Huntsman was here now, after an urchin hurried with instructions for him to meet here. What happened to the wretch after didn’t matter to him either.

His soul concern at the moment, was this delicate conversation.

The Huntsman smirked. Tracking is easy enough. We have eyes everywhere. So, the real question is: how are you planning to pay for the service?

He stared a while, needing a clever solution to what little he had. Maybe... He’d seen it done enough, and used it himself.

Rolling up his sleeve, he showed the Huntsman what he offered.

The Huntsman’s face slackened and twisted for a mere moment. A wry grin consumed their features when they understood the meaning. Deal.

He resisted a sigh of relief. After all, he couldn’t afford to show any hint of weakness in the negotiation.

Who am I hunting?

A half-elf. He slid a small, folded piece of parchment.

The Huntsman looked at the name inside the fold. Santuarus.

And the drow with him.

The Huntsman cocked a brow. Name?

He shook his head. I don’t know it. I don’t care to know it. He has amber eyes, and uses fire magic.

With a sigh, the Huntsman looked him over. If I don’t have a name, I need more details. But I can get the job done. Provided... the Huntsman lifted their arm and pointed, You hold up to your end.

Discord

Kal’s hands trembled . Fingers furled tight around the hilt of his rapier, he couldn’t stop himself from shaking. The tip rested atop Hebi’s breast, guided by her hands, pointed at her heart. He locked his jaw, teeth pressed hard against each other, as he tried to summon courage. His inner flame offered no comfort, nor did it rile itself in any excitement.

He dropped his arms, bringing the sword away, with a whimper. I can’t.

Hebi lifted her head, staring doe-eyed at him. Kal...

Kal shut his eyes, turning away his face. I can’t!

He sucked in air, and forced it out from behind his clenched teeth in rapid succession. His hand clutched tighter around the hilt of his weapon, his skin audible in its rub against the metal. The sound forced his gaze. Eyes staring down at it—he threw the blade to the ground, reveling in its second of clattering against the floorboards.

Hebi moved her sight downward, away from Kal and away from the sword, her outward appearance taking a slow approach to winter.

There has to be some other way, growled Kal. There has to.

Something disturbed the tension. Or, rather, someone. Herek stood in the doorway, his posture timid.

Kal and Hebi stared. He stared back. None of them knowing what to say.

Herek braved breaking the standoff. I came up to wash, he pointed to his soaked sleeve, and I heard a crash.

Kal’s eyes darted between Hebi and Herek. The boy looked the part of a frightened fawn. The fae, a cornered kitten. He relaxed his posture, raising a hand to cradle his face, and steadied his voice. Silver hair fell forward from behind his elven ear as he chose his next words in a slow and deliberate manner.

It was just a discussion. He offered a look of apology to Herek. We’ll be down soon.

Herek gave a queer glance between the two, leaving them in a meek manner.

Kal waited until the sound of footsteps left them, and heaved a large sigh. His gaze returned to Hebi. What about the boy?

Hebi avoided Kal’s eye.

You’re a healer, said Kal, keeping his voice calm. What about the boy?

Hebi shifted her sights elsewhere along the floor. "His wounds aren’t physical. I don’t know that there is anything I can do for him."

Kal loosened the tension in his face, looking down to his hands.

He wakes up screaming at night, said Hebi, in a tone of confession. My first patron. A general. He spent his life defending the border against Eurybian invasion. But those wounds never healed. I supposed that’s why he chose me as his companion. He’d send for me at any hour. Day or night.

Kal blinked at her, trying to understand where she led him in this cryptic conversation.

Low chatter continued beyond the door.

I never knew what I should do then, either. He spoke rarely. I did not have any direction on how I could be made useful. At times, I would play some instrument. Other times, I would busy myself with embroidery and hum. He stilled a little while I stayed. Though, that’s not helpful now.

Kal looked from Hebi to his hands, to the door for a long stare, and back. Nothing?

He never escaped his night terrors. Even when awake, at times, they haunted him. I could never recognize any pattern—something that could help me to help him. I was useless then. And nothing has changed in that respect.

Kal bunched his brow, his face slackening into a woe-filled frown. He reached down to her, offering his hand to aid her to her feet. When she accepted, he extended his other hand, wrapping his fingers gently around hers and bringing her up in a single, smooth motion.

We’ll figure it out, said Kal, staying soft in his tone. You’re not useless. No matter what the fuck Kelso might say.

Hebi showed a weak smile, still refusing to look Kal in the eye. She took a step towards the doorway.

Kal placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her mid-stride. This, his faced turned back to his rapier, never happened. Okay?

Hebi glanced between them. When she understood his meaning, she nodded.

Kal stepped, halted by her hand. He blinked at her, watching her eyes dart, searching for words.

With the others... She shook her head, perhaps disregarding her explanation for a different answer. Don’t be hard on them.

Kal quirked a brow, unsure. When she looked at him again with that same, pathetic smile, he returned the expression and ushered her out.

I’ll fix you something fresh and warm to eat, said Hebi, pretending that was their conversation.

A disaster, in the midst of cleaning, consumed most of the main floor. The men of the party made a great effort to gather broken pieces or sweep up the smaller fragments. Eli remained seated, leaning back with a bottle held just below her lips.

Hebi muttered something in old fae, gesturing with her arm. A spell, Kal realized, that took to tidying everything effortlessly.

The rest of the group (save for Eli) brandished sheepish expressions in varying degrees, watching as she stepped soundlessly into the kitchen, before they reclaimed their seats.

How many deaths does this make? teased Avi, in the language common among the humans of Múrnig, and shy in his attempt.

Hopefully, the last, said the dark-elf, groaning as he sat himself. At least, until I’m of ripe old age, like you.

Ermir snickered, as did Kelso and Eli. Even Valor cracked a smile at the joke.

Quiet ensued.

Kal could feel a decade’s worth of tension squeezed into the space around them. More so as Herek descended the stairs to rejoin them.

Any plans what to do? asked Kal, breaking the silence.

Avi and Hebi told us to wait on you, said Ermir. Didn’t really think beyond that.

Kal sighed, groaning as he did. Likewise, his stomach chimed in.

Everything we planned previously, said Valor, leveled in his tone, hinged on Narmahendra staying as it was before.

Kal blinked, his mind reeling to recall details of recent events. His eyes followed Herek, taking a seat beside Avi.

Half the city is in shambles, said Kelso, a hint of melancholy in his otherwise bland voice. And there’s no one left alive here but us. Poked around to be sure. Gathered every coin and anything useful left behind. Damned cultists didn’t leave much—maybe our part in the wreckage lost some stuff, but...

I just... started Avi. I just want some time with my son. To fix things. Or try.

Herek shifted in his chair, eyes on his feet.

Kal stared at them a while. Men, bred for war, brought low in newfound displacement. He looked to Eli next. And you?

She scowled and snapped at him, I’m stuck being your babysitter. Though, Kal thought she lacked her usual venom in her tone. She seemed to care less about her circumstances, holding that bottle with a loose grip.

At that, Kal cocked his brow.

"I need to figure out how to undo... this," said Kelso, holding up his arm to demonstrate how his mace was forever stuck to his stone-clad hand.

Not that anyone paid the vampire much mind.

Kal looked to Herek after, watching the half-elven boy cling to his mug. Where will you go?

Herek stole a glance up, and returned to staring at the floor just as quick.

Avi shook his head, slow and deliberate. Hebi got a message to Vincent. Let him know I got my son back. But...

Kal watched, resting his arms on the table as he leaned forward.

He’ll be sixteen this winter, said Avi.

And? said Kal.

And boys at sixteen, answered Eli, though never looking at any of them, are required to donate the next five years to the military.

Kal grimaced. Never had to do that. Then again, I’m Thalassian not Eurybian.

Girls at eighteen, continued Eli, serve in the temples for two years.

Kal raised his brow. Aren’t the women in the Empire fighters as much as the men are? He gestured to the former Huntsman.

The half-elven woman waved off his words. Every free citizen is required to learn basic skills. Discourages invasions. After your required service to the crowns, you can do whatever the nine hells you want.

That’s kinda hot, said Ermir, flashing a sly smile.

Eli lifted what remained of her left arm, pausing to look at it and back. She dropped the limb and spat a curse. The contents of her bottle found its way past her lips after.

So... Kal’s voice trailed. He tried to clear his throat, realizing now how sticky everything felt.

Ermir took note, and hastily rifled through what remained of their stores to bring over a drink. Only after Kal took a gulp did he think it out of character for the large, scaly man to take the initiative. He decided against trying to dissect some understanding from the action, turning to Avi instead.

Offer still stands.

Avi took his attention from his son, bending his brow in vacant puzzlement.

To vouch for you in Thalassa.

Avi sighed, reaching to pinch the bridge of his nose, as he’d always done, but stopped halfway. Instead, he let his hand fall back to the table, lifeless. I’d be hated.

Kal remained silent.

My son would be hated. We’re Eurybians, proud Eurybians. The Empire treated me well, Kal. It’s my home. Jeering in the street and doors closed in our face, I can handle; it’s the least of our worries. Leaving everything I know on top of that... Thalassians wouldn’t understand, let alone accept it. Avi looked away in his final statement.

Kal leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. The same way Thalassians wouldn’t accept a drowned-elf in their society?

Avi picked his face back up, mouth open and finger pointed. Again, he stopped. That’s different.

No, it’s not, said Kal, steadfast. He felt himself growing irritated by the middle-aged half-elf. There’s assholes there. Can’t deny that. Assholes are everywhere. We either learn to deal with it or spend our lives running from it. Cowering.

Avi shot an annoyed look to Kal at the mention of cowering.

Ermir snickered. Wispy hairs is right.

Still with that nick-name? muttered Kal, fiddling with what little remained of his facial hair. He looked to Valor for some level of comfort.

The halfling met his eye and shrugged.

Ermir went on, ignoring Kal’s complaint. "My homeland’s middle name is brutal. And setting up here, well... They didn’t exactly welcome us, no questions asked. Be stupid. We’re foreigners everywhere we go."

We can go together, suggested Valor. A group of strangers makes it harder for locals to target anyone in particular.

Are we going to ignore that I’m still a fucking rock? whined Kelso, still bland in his voice.

Yes, said Ermir, quick and final.

Eli dropped her emptied bottle—allowing it to land with a thud from the short fall—getting up for another, and dragging her feet with every step.

Hebi returned, tray in hand, carrying bowls of that same hot cereal. Like a ritual, she set things down one at a time in slow, deliberate movements.

What about you? asked Ermir.

Hebi paused, looking at the dragon-kin but giving no hint to her mood outside of her outward autumn appearance. After a moment, watching the unease of the silence, she answered. I’m going to Thalassa.

The rest looked taken aback.

It’s by the ocean, you know, said Ermir.

Hebi said nothing. A slight rigidness taking her for a breath’s length of time.

Why there? asked Valor.

Again, she said nothing, continuing with her previous task.

Avi took her hand as she walked near. Why Thalassa?

She took her time to respond. Blinking once as she studied Avi’s expression. My duty is there.

The half-elf opened his mouth to inquire further. At the last moment, he decided against it, allowing her hand to slip from him.

Kal stole a glance to the rest. The men of their group shared similar expressions, wanting to question or persuade otherwise, yet not daring to.

At nightfall, Kal couldn’t find rest. His body refusing to lay still again, despite the softness of the bed. An entire spring and summer of plank wood, desert stone, or stiff mattresses, and his body refused a plush bed. His stomach churned, forcing him upright.

Dim candlelight flickered at the door’s thresh. Starlight twinkled from the window.

He got himself up, soft footfall with every step toward the far wall to peer outside. Silent streets and decaying buildings. But the corpses were gone. Though, with how Hebi tended to the dead in that cavern, he supposed she performed some similar rite.

Not even the chirp of crickets or the scurrying of some rodent. Snoring, however, that echoed from Ermir’s room.

Kal chuckled. How ridiculous was this? They could stay here and restart everything. This city, Narmahendra, had established trade routes and good rapport with neighboring provinces—from Saiga to Thalassa. Why not?

Mama. And Aurora. How long had it been this time? Three years? Four? No, he couldn’t stay. He didn’t belong here. He’d fulfilled his promise to Persephone. If she safeguarded him from dying until now, he needed to get home. If nothing more, he could spend a spell of time in peace with family.

Autumn neared. The chill in the night air suggested it might already be here, though he hadn’t seen a proper calendar since gods knew when. Eurynome, perhaps? Had he really gone through all of summer not bothering to know what day it was? For so long, days didn’t matter. The rescue mattered. Survival mattered.

His head weighed heavy.

He decided: he’d winter over in Thalassa, and figure out what to do after. Before any of that, however, he needed to take a piss.

Stepping out of the room, aware of every tiny creek the floorboards made under his bare feet, Kal found his way to a privy on the first floor. Eli remained at the bar table, a new bottle in hand.

A pause for consideration, but nature beckoned more fervently.

Sweet relief.

Eli stayed in place when he reemerged, staring straight ahead and slouched over another near-empty bottle.

Can’t sleep? asked Kal in a hushed tone. He walked to stand opposite the former Huntsman.

It took her a moment to respond, looking up with puffed red eyes. Crying? No—impossible—Huntsmen were killers, not criers. Still, a glance to meet his eye was all the response she gave.

I’ll take you to bed, said Kal, realizing only after the words left his lips. And it probably wasn’t the best phrasing. But not, you know, like that. I meant because you’re tired. Not because—fuck...

She blinked at him, taking her time before her next action. Her eyes looked back to her hand. I’m not tired. Her tone suggested otherwise, defeated and quiet.

Kal stared. For a long while, he stared, unsure.

We can take you to your father’s house.

Eli looked up, dragging her weary eyes to meet his.

You said the runes on your arm took you to your father’s garden. Since they’re gone, I thought... Kal let his voice trail. Looking at Eli now, he found himself at a loss.

Another pause, with everything else silent (save for Ermir’s snores).

You’d be safe in Thalassa—

She threw the bottle, narrowly missing Kal’s head.

Kal sucked in a breath, going rigid, eyes wide, but silenced. Tending to a friend’s hurt, he’d practiced. Tending to his assassin, now bodyguard, he couldn’t make progress. The only restraint against her aim, undoubtedly, was Hebi’s enchantment on her.

He side-stepped away when he regained control of his legs, trying to come up with something else.

Papa would stay by their side in silent comfort, if he couldn’t figure out how to go about fixing whatever happened. Though, this circumstance seemed deeper and in need of action. Mama would coax it out and embrace them through their emotions. Judging by the bottle incident, Kal brushed aside the notion of a second attempt. Aurora would make tea and bring out some treat, then... He never thought past that. His youngest sister in his adopted family was a gentle soul. Maybe that was enough, though he couldn’t comprehend how.

Still, that’s all he had to go on. In the kitchen, a jar was clearly labeled with what he needed. Finding a clean cup, on the other hand. He grumbled in having to deviate and wash a few dishes. In the midst of it, his mind posed a question: why were there dirty dishes? He’d always observed Hebi keeping everything so tidy. Why would this escape her notice? For that matter, where was Hebi?

Leaves and clean water, he heated the cups in each hand, staying focused so as not to destroy anything by accident. He could still hear his sisters scolding him as a child.

He returned to his previous spot, taking soft steps and cautious of Eli’s mood. Setting the cup in front of her, he made mention to take care and not swallowing it down immediately.

Eli didn’t acknowledge the token for a full minute. She turned her gaze to it, sluggish, studying the steam as it danced up.

Kal took a sip from his own cup, feeling somewhat comfortable at last. I was wondering, he said, watching for any sign of rage.

She stayed fixated on the tea.

Everyone looked hesitant around Hebi. Before, they all... What happened?

Eli didn’t answer. Not right away. Kal thought she meant to ignore him all together.

She happened, said Eli.

Kal raised a brow, his face slowly twisting into more questions.

From what I gathered, she went on, straightening her posture for the first time, "They all pegged her for the mother of their band."

You got that impression too? said Kal with half a snicker. He dropped the attempt when he noted her unchanged expression.

Eli gave a slow blink at him before continuing, So, that bit of necromancy she started pulling off... She showed the hint of a smile when Kal’s expression paled. Most people think they understand the basics of the magic. Truth is, resurrections and curses are two feathers out of an entire griffon when it comes to necromancy. Mother of hells, the variety of resurrections alone are dizzying to most.

Kal screwed his face at that last remark, remembering what he was told in that tomb not too long ago. But Zagreus was the one who brought me back.

Eli relaxed her expression again, shrugging. Gods are gods. What she was summoning wasn’t from this plane of existence. One of the hells, maybe. And what she did to lizard-boy, she stopped to take her first taste of the tea.

Kal hesitated initially, goaded in by her stare to ask. Those injuries?

"Everything rotted away. Armor, cloth, and flesh. They’ll never fully heal." She took another sip, gingerly.

Kal frowned. Ermir wouldn’t hold that against her. She was under a charm—he saw it.

You keep telling yourself that. Her expression turned catty, in spite of puffy, red eyes. "Keep telling yourself he’s different from everyone else. He’d never hold a grudge against the woman who tried to kill him. Who began a slow burn of murder without feeling a thing while doing it. No, he’ll definitely keep protecting her and following her without that biting memory. After all, he’s one of the heroes."

There was something in those words. Kal relaxed his new scowl in tandem with the realization. Not that what she said held truth about Ermir or Hebi. Someone else. Someone in close company. He let his muscles lose tension while he watched her sip at her drink.

She wanted to hurt him in the only way she could.

He said nothing in response, watching her finish her tea. She looked annoyed by the end. So, he handed her the nearest bottle, something she snatched without the previous defeatism.

Eli swallowed with a hunger. Kal sipped with a steady calm.

The bottle nearly empty, Kal tried again. I did always wonder, he chanced leaning in to meet her eye, How did you track us? From Dzhambul to Gyandal.

Eli scoffed. I started tracking in Eurybia.

Impressive.

Don’t patronize me.

Kal allowed a lull to temper the Huntsman. How’d you do it?

My specialty, said Eli, her gaze wandering before settling back on Kal. Magic leaves a signature. Each person casting a spell is unique. All I had to do was narrow down which signature was still living. Following you was almost easy until the other side of Ymire. You went quiet for a while. Then it picked up again. Whatever you were doing, it left a huge residue.

Kal chortled. The cloud jumper. I didn’t need magic until after that sandstorm and we got stranded.

Whatever. She finished off the bottle. "After Dzhambul, I had to take a guess. Heard the drow used Rara’s circle. Thalassa, Figor, and Névé, are south of the Empire, you went north, past the smaller nations, blah blah blah. Based on who was with you—" A hiccup escaped her, interrupting everything.

She scrunched in her face, holding her folded hand to her mouth in the moment, attempting to suppress any more before she continued.

If I couldn’t pick up the trail in Ashtoret, she spoke slower, concentrating on her words, then the only places left were Saiga, Vahanna, and Gyandal. Saiga is on good enough terms with the Empire, like your little flea-ridden friends from the cavern, and Vahanna doesn’t have a chamber like Dzhambul. So, that left Gyandal. That’s where I went. Right along the Jaid Coast.

Eli’s hand grabbed her bottle, lifting only to remember it was empty.

Kal scanned through the shelves quickly, finding another to hand to her. The process of which, he spotted the corner of a paper stack.

But how’d you do it? pressed Kal, handing her a fresh drink.

Eli stared, as if he’d asked some childish question. Barghest.

Barbus? asked Kal, brow cocked as he tried to decipher the word.

Eli blinked at him, an annoyed expression consuming her face as she turned her attention away from Kal.

He let her simmer down with her new drink, watching