KGWrites

James

Whiteoak Estate, Summer District, Kingdom of Aldiron

James ached.

Overnight, more than a few bruises had formed where he’d collided with the rocks of the cliff. And his scratched up shoulder stung with every movement rubbing the fabric of his clothes up against it.

He was glad that today had been decided to be a research day, what with Marius recovering from his battle wounds and Alyx and Iona headed down to The Village for Iona’s public appearance.

The quiet of Meghan’s study gave James somewhere to think.

The conversation with King Samuel the night before kept playing itself around in circles in James’ mind. Look where your mother got you by fighting the impossible.

James stared at his reflection in the study window as those words returned to him. He was still thin, but now it wasn’t skin stretched over a malnourished skeleton but there were strong muscles and a full figure beneath his clothes. Clothes that were clean and tailored to him. He hadn’t had to think about where the next meal would come from, or if the room he and Alyx slept in would be warm enough and without damp and mould.

Catching sight of his three fingered hand James even realised that he hadn’t even really thought of any extra precautions to take because of it in more than half a year.

Trust someone beyond Alyx and yourself for once. It might surprise you.

It was right, James realised. They had trusted the royals, and so far, it had saved them.

He couldn’t deny his caution and self-reliance had kept them alive all these years. But recently? Perhaps leaning on others might work, perhaps having friends like they did was something he, Alyx and Lillian shouldn’t be so quick to abandon after all.

When Alyx returned that night, after dinner, he’d sit down with the two of them and they’d talk it all through. Get all the cards on the table and see where they stood. Most of him still wanted to run, to get them to safety. But if his family decided they wanted to stay and stand by their friends, he could live with that too.

Smiling a little to himself, James returned to the stack of books and scrolls sat on the table between himself and Meghan.

Meghan was concentrated entirely on the book before her. Her chin was rested in her palm as she scowled down at the pages, her mouth silently moving as she mentally translated the Evellien text into a language they would both be able to understand.

It was something that James was certain that he was one of very few people in the kingdom had seen. Meghan Whiteoak with her guard down, not projecting an image of power and authority. And not having to hide who she really was even beneath another mask.

Since telling James about being magically capable, Meghan seemed to have relaxed even further. She often rolled up her sleeves, if the outfits had sleeves at all, or wore dresses and shirts with looser neck fits that showed the intricate white tattoos that she kept entirely hidden from the rest of Aldiron.

James had asked her about them once, not realising they were tied to the magic she seemed afraid to discuss. But rather than dismissing him, Meghan had explained that they allow her to use magic in a way that would exhaust someone without them, that they allowed her to cast more powerful magic than many others were capable of. She’d seemed to surprise herself with her willingness to explain them so readily to James. But he’d simply explained he had been glad to let her talk about it with someone for once.

She’d liked that.

After that she talked about magic more often. Not much but just a sentence or two now and then. James got the sense that she had never really spoken much about it with anyone.

Right now, though, Meghan was wearing a long-sleeved tunic that hid the tattoos from sight. Which James couldn’t help but think may be on account of Lillian being in the corner of the room, silently reading a book.

Still, he was happy enough just spending this time with his friend.

“Throne, Market and Tower.” Meghan muttered under her breath, making James look up towards her, tilting his head questioningly.

“What’s that?” He asked. Meghan gestured to the book.

“It’s an Evellien history text. An account of the years following the wars with the Demons. It talks about the great Evellien nation splitting into three smaller kingdoms. Each new ruler was given a piece of the demon-ender, something to serve as a symbol of rulership and to remind them of the co-operation between all Evellien that brought an end to the demons and their tyranny.” She explained and James nodded.

“You think this demon-ender that they split into three parts is the Brightblade?” James asked her, though it wasn’t really a question as much as a statement. Still though, Meghan shrugged.

“Demon-ender certainly seems apt for the sword forged specifically to kill Demons, don’t you think?” She repeated and James tilted his head to the side, conceding her point. He still wasn’t convinced by the stories of the mythical sword and the unkillable Demons, but given the woman across from him had an intimate knowledge of magic and that stories already spread of how easily Draconeus had struck down Marius’ father in the field, he found himself less and less sure of his sceptical approach.

“And Throne, Market and Tower?” He asked, drawing Meghan back to the part of the text she had read out.

Meghan sighed in frustration, pulling her curled hair back from her forehead.

“That’s a very rough translation of the capital city names of each Evellien kingdom. And the account gives no record of what we call those places now. If they even still exist.”

“Alright, so how do we find out that information?” James asked, trying to keep Meghan on track, knowing how easily she could begin going in circles when she got frustrated.

“We could comb through every archaeological book and scroll I have here, every history of major settlements of the Evellien and hope that some of them make reference to both these names and whatever they became.” Meghan began, but she trailed off towards the end, looking out the window and drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair in annoyance.

“I feel there’s an ‘or’ coming.” He replied, encouraging Meghan to voice her thoughts.

“Searching all of that would take weeks, months even. And the enemy is over the Ramm, coming here. We might not have that kind of time. But the only other place that might have better knowledge now has Draconeus’ entire army between us and it.” She told him, rubbing her temples with one hand.

“Which is?” James asked.

“Blueholdt, the Sea Lords Archive. It holds the greatest collection of Evellien histories in the known world. And there are scholars there who make it their lives’ work to understand exactly what became of the old Evellien realms after they fell. With their knowledge, we could likely follow this lead in a matter of days.” Meghan explained and now it was James’ turn to sit back in frustration, shifting his jaw.

After a second though, James sat up again, pulling another book off the pile next to him.

“Then we’d best get started, we’ve got weeks to work through. Just point me at the right books.”

James wasn’t sure how long they worked like that, reading texts looking for any mention of the words Throne, Market and Tower. All he knew was that each time that he looked up, the candles seemed to have burned far lower down than he’d expected.

They were almost a quarter of the size they had started when the door suddenly opened and Iona rushed into the room, followed closely by two of her armoured guards. She looked worried, wide eyed and panicked. A panic that only seemed to deepen as she looked around the room and didn’t find whatever it was she was looking for.

It was only then that James finally realised that Alyx wasn’t among the guards that had followed Iona into the room.

He felt goosebumps begin to form as a cold dread began to creep into his chest.

“Iona? What’s wrong?” Meghan asked, rising from her chair and hurrying over to look the princess over.

“It’s Alyx.” Iona spoke hurriedly, like she was out of breath. “I… we got separated at The Village. And she’s not reappeared, none of the other guards have seen her.” She turned her head to James and spoke the words that he had been dreading hearing.

“No-one can find her.”

The Kindling, Winter District, Kingdom of Aldiron – Thirty Minutes Later

James ducked through the low door to the little hovel, blinking to let his eyes adjust to the dark.

A quick glance around the space was all he needed to confirm what he had already suspected.

Alyx wasn’t here.

The little space which had served as the siblings’ home for so many years was dull and cold. Moths and rats had eaten at the curtains that once separated the space into private areas for Alyx, James and Lillian to sleep in. The cast iron cooking pot they had kept as a lifeline for food and warmth was tipped on its side and caked in rust and grime. Even the sturdy wooden pallets they had used for beds had begun to rot and sag.

The life once lived in here was a relic of the past. Like the people who had lived it had simply ceased existing.

In a way, James supposed, they had.

It had been late spring when Alyx and James had taken in Lillian and ended up prisoners in King Samuel’s court. Now winter winds gave the air a chill that only enhanced the emptiness of the little space.

In that time, Lillian had begun lessons and training to become a member of the royal court, likely a cup bearer or lady in waiting for Iona. She could read almost as well as James and was learning the intricacies of court life better than either of her guardians. Alyx had become a skilled fighter, as adept with her sword as any legionnaire in Aldiron, if not more. She had become a royal guard to Iona and rivalled many of the other guards in her deeds protecting the princess in that short time. And James himself? He and Meghan were on the verge of tracking down a legend lost for hundreds of years and his skill with a bow eclipsed even Marius’ own.

They felt like different people entirely from those that had once stalked the night trying to find enough money to scrape together a meal. Or had hidden in the darkness and shelter of this little home, fearing that every shadow could spell their end.

They had returned here of course, once or twice, as they planned their escape from the city. They stashed gear and supplies in a hole dug out beneath James’ old bed and covered in leather tarps to keep hidden and dry.

It was this space that James moved to, muttering quiet reassurances to himself that Alyx was alright, that she’d just taken off for a drink, maybe a meeting with Samantha in the bathhouse or something. He didn’t convince himself at all though.

Grunting, he shifted his bed sideways and reached down into the hole, lifting out a leather pack and opening it. Inside was the light leather armour that he’d been given by Haster on that first night in the palace, when he and the guard commander had come down to the Winter District to find Lillian. There were also several rolled scrolls, encased in leather protectors. The scrolls bore all the details of the planned heist on the treasury, notes of everything he, Alyx and Lillian had managed to learn as well as timings and calculations of rope lengths and equipment costs. The scrolls were proof of their planned treachery.

James was surprised that catching sight of them caused a knot of guilt to twist in his stomach.

Treachery? Had it really become treachery to think of that plan so quickly?

No time to think about it right now.

Ignoring the scrolls, James lifted out the armour, and with it a shortsword that he’d carefully smuggled from the armoury one day after training. Then he quickly changed into the armour, leaving his blue-grey cloak and unarmoured, comfortable boots behind in the pack. He didn’t know exactly why he felt the extra protection would be necessary, but he wasn’t about to ignore that nagging anxiety in his mind that told him he’d need it. Not while Alyx was missing.

Then he replaced the hiding space for the equipment, strode to the door and wordlessly, never looking back, strode from the Kindling.

His path through the Winter District wound through streets and alleys, following a twisting route that took him past all of the places that Alyx had once hidden or gone to while they’d lived in the District.

Each one brought him no sign of her. And with each one his fear crept further up his spine.

His blood felt like ice in his veins by the time he reached the street outside the Oasis. Visions swam through his mind of what he’d find inside. Would Alyx be staked out as Sigmund had been when she’d come here? Was he already too late?

The guards had cleared the space of the bodies and rubble after Iona and Alyx reported what they’d found. James knew that they’d buried Sigmund in the Gravekeeper’s care because he and Alyx had stood at the graveside and paid towards the grave marker. But still, the image of his sister’s body also impaled on spikes next to the old man’s seemed determined to haunt every corner of his mind.

Gritting his teeth, James began to move towards the doors to the Oasis when he heard someone run up the street and come to a stop next to him. Turning quickly, his full left hand moving to the hilt of his shortsword, James was pleasantly surprised to find Lillian there. She was panting as if she’d been running hard, her shoulders rising and falling as she sucked in long deep breaths.

“She’s… not at… the Pearl. Rose and Samantha… haven’t… seen her in months. They honestly thought we were dead.” Lillian gasped out between heaving breaths. James sighed with a resigned certainty. The Ocean Pearl Bathhouse had been one last hope for him, but even it had been too good to be true.

Reaching down he laid one hand on Lillian’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Thank you for trying Lillian. Now please, stay here. Or better yet, get yourself home to the palace where it’s safe.” He said, trying to make his voice as commanding as he could. But Lillian looked up at him, scowled and shook her head firmly.

“Not happening. Alyx could be in danger, I can help. I’m not going.” She reached down and placed her hand on her belt. Looking down, James could see that she had Alyx’s old dagger sheathed at her side. Then she looked back up at him, the blue of her eyes becoming cold as ice.

“She’s my family too. I won’t leave her.”

James’ heart twisted in his chest. Crouching, he wrapped Lillian in a tight hug, holding her close to his chest and gently kissing the top of her hair. She hugged him back, squeezing tight. A second later, James pulled back from the hug.

“Alright Lil. You come too, but if fighting happens, you promise me that you’ll run home. I can’t risk you too.” He said seriously, and Lillian nodded firmly.

Knowing that was as good as he was likely to get from her, and slightly thankful that at least Lillian was a little less rash than Alyx had been at her age, James stood and turned, striding across the street towards the Oasis.

Entering it was a surreal experience. While Alyx had told James many times of the horrifying rubble filled smoking ruin that she’d found when she’d entered the Oasis with Iona, that wasn’t what James found.

Instead, the Oasis was an empty grey void. There was no life to the courtyard at all, no people or animals. Even the birds overhead seemed to avoid the space, like it was cursed. All the rubble had been removed, leaving just the blackened and burned out facades of homes and businesses, looking out into the yard like gargoyles. The silence was louder than any sound James had ever heard, it seemed to press in around him, muffling even the sound of his and Lillian’s footsteps as they walked through the space.

Which meant it was easy for James to spot the one splash of colour in the space. Sitting on a table surreally placed in the centre of the open yard was something so unexpected that James came to a full stop as he registered what it even was. And when he did, his heartbeat felt ready to break from his chest.

A single, Evellien designed, golden candlestick sat on the table.

James didn’t need to get any closer to know it was the exact same one that Sigmund had bought from him and Alyx earlier that year.

But why?

Confused, James slowly approached the candlestick and the table it lay on. Getting closer, he could see that it was being used to pin down an envelope. Or rather, a piece of paper that was folded to create an envelope.

Slowly, his limbs feeling like they belonged to someone else, James lifted the candlestick off the envelope and raised it to look at properly.

Understanding dawned as he managed to read what the paper used to make the envelope actually was. A page from a sales ledger. And circled, dead centre on the envelope’s front was a single transaction.

Cobalt, A/J – Golden Evellien Candlestick – 70 Silver Falcons.

It was Sigmund’s sales ledger, and whoever had made the envelope from it had been searching for exactly this transaction.

James weighed the envelope in his hand. It was heavier than a simple letter, and it bulged slightly at the corner. There was something more in here.

Dreading what he’d find, his mind conjuring horrors he didn’t dare put any more thought to, James opened the envelope and reached inside.

The first thing he found was a folded piece of paper, which he then gripped between his fingers and pulled out. It was ornate, thick paper, far better quality than anything found in the Winter District and the writing on the inside matched it, written in a confident, curling hand.

Three Fingers,

It’s been some time. My condolences on the loss of Sigmund, that truly is regrettable. But business is business. You understand, better than most others I’d wager.

I won’t drag this out. In fact, I’d much prefer it over quickly, before it gets any messier. To that end, I have your sister. She’s secure in my estate, outside the city.

You want her back? Come and get her. No guards, no knights, none of your new royal friends, just you. Bring them with you, and she’ll go see your parents again.

And just so you know I’m not lying, I’ve included something of dear Alyx’s. It must mean a lot to her, she cried when we took it away.

I’m waiting James, this debt’s been a long time in the settling.

The Burned Man.

James read the note, then re-read it, grinding his teeth and feeling his heartbeat hammering so hard it felt like it was behind his eyes. Nightmares of this day had plagued him for years, and now that it was reality, he could honestly say he longed for the feeling of those nightmares again.

Wordlessly, he passed the note down to Lillian, who began to read it as James upended the envelope into his three fingered hand. There was a soft thump as a tiny silvered ring, bearing a feathered pattern, dropped into his palm.

Iona’s ring.

The ring Alyx always wore on a string around her neck, close to her heart. It couldn’t have been simply stolen from her. Trident’s letter was true.

Visions of horror swam behind James’ eyes as he walked over to the table and lifted the candlestick into his hand. Blood gushing down his father’s throat like a waterfall. His mother’s strangled gasp as a dagger stabbed deep into her eye. Slicing, blazing pain radiating up his hand and never stopping as Trident just kept cutting. Alyx lying on her bed in the palace, a dagger embedded in her chest and her sheets soaked with red.

The scream came from deep within James, clawing its way up his throat in a rapid, unstoppable climb. He couldn’t see, just feel as he lashed out forwards with the metal candlestick, embedding the gilded metal deep into the table with a loud crack of splintering wood. Then he lifted it and swung again. And again. And again.

Is a table all you can beat? Useless!

You swore to protect her. Liar!

Failure!

Then, like a bucket of cold water being dumped over the raging fire of his rage, James felt Lillian take his other hand and he heard her call his name.

Gasping back the screams and sobs, James’ vison cleared. The tabletop before him was a broken, splintered mess. The candlestick in his hand was bent and broken. The gilding had flaked away, revealing a cast iron core beneath.

Not golden all the way through after all. A rotted core.

Lillian said his name again, tugging on his hand urgently.

Turning his head to look down at her confused, James turned to look at her and saw she was looking back towards the entrance to the Oasis.

Fearing the worst, James turned.

And found Meghan Whiteoak stood in the centre of the space, with Lord Captain Haster and three more city guards at her back.

James barely registered that Meghan was there, instead immediately seeing the guards and recalling the letter. Bring them with you, and she’ll go see your parents again.

“No! You can’t be here! Get away!” He snarled, pointing a finger at Haster. His whole body shook with adrenaline and rage. Haster looked confused and opened his mouth to speak. But Lillian cut him off.

“The guards being here puts Alyx in danger. You have to go. Now!” She explained hurriedly, her voice harsh and surprisingly authoritative. Letting go of James’ hand she crossed quickly to them and passed the letter to Meghan, who wordlessly began reading it.

“We’d heard Alyx was missing. The princess Iona requested that we come to assist with the search.” Haster began explaining but suddenly Meghan held up a finger, not looking up from the letter.

“The princess meant well, but she didn’t have all the information. Take your men and take up positions outside Lord Captain, what the girl says is true.” She said, her voice calm but firm. Haster turned his head to look at Meghan and she exchanged a long wordless look with him. Then he nodded, turning on his heel and leading his men from the square.

Only once they were gone did Meghan move. She rushed forwards and wrapped her arms around James, holding him tight to her. Responding almost on instinct he buried his head in her hair, clinging on to Meghan like she was an anchor in a storm. Sweet vanilla scents filled his nose, the smell of the perfumes she used. With them came a sense of calming, as James’ mind drew back to sitting in Meghan’s libraries, reading tomes and swapping jokes and stories.

“We’re going to get her back.” Meghan whispered to him, her silvered voice soft as the first flakes of snow. “I promise, we’ll get her back. And we’ll make him hurt.”

Slowly, James nodded against her shoulder. Though he didn’t agree with all of her words.

Not hurt. Much more than that.

Standing back from Meghan, he gave her a quick smile of thanks. And only now did he fully take her in.

Her usual violet dresses and copper accessories had been switched for a padded black chestpiece and long leather breeches. At her side was sheathed her curved sword and slung over one shoulder was a long, wrapped bundle that James quickly recognised as a bow and quiver of arrows.

Meghan Whiteoak looked armed and ready for a fight.

It was only then that James realised what she had said. “We’re going to get her back.”

We.

He quickly shook his head at her, Trident’s letter flashing in front of him again.

“I must do this alone. If he sees anyone with me.” He began but Meghan stepped up close to him, lowering her voice so only he could hear her.

“You’re walking into a trap, you know you can’t do this alone. Sure, we can’t take an army of soldiers with us. But me? I’ve got skills you can use, you know that. Plus, I know he likely wouldn’t care but Trident did only say no guards, knights or royals. Of which I am none. So, fuck playing by his rules.” She said. James blinked at her in surprise, he’d not heard her swear before. In fact, he’d been almost sure she hadn’t been capable of swearing. He looked down, thinking.

Trident’s warnings still swam in his mind, but he knew that Meghan was completely right. This was undoubtedly a trap for him, and to play this game exactly as Trident wanted was to lose before the game even begun. Besides, Meghan had spent months teaching him all the skills he was about to need, not to mention the magic she kept so well hidden.

If there was anyone he’d need at his side, it was her.

Looking up at her, he nodded and reached out his hand. Smiling grimly, she unslung the bow from her shoulder and passed it over to him. Unravelling it from the wrappings he found the bow he kept in the armoury of her estate, as well as a quiver with two sheaves of arrows.

James hoped he wouldn’t need all of them.

He began slinging the quiver over his back, tightening the leather belt to hold it fast. Then he carefully slung the bow over his shoulder too.

“I’m coming as well.” Lillian said firmly next to him, and he quickly turned to her.

“Not this time Lil. I know you want to help Alyx. But this is far more dangerous than anything else we’ve ever done. I need to know you’re safe. That the rest of my family is safe.” James replied, cupping his hand to her cheek. She held his hand there for a second, looking annoyed at his words. But slowly she nodded. She understood.

“Go to Haster, have him take you to the palace. Find Iona and let her know what’s happening. Stay with her, she’ll need you and you’ll need her.” Meghan told her from behind James and Lillian nodded. Then she hugged James tight, and he placed another kiss on the top of her head before she hurried from the Oasis, stopping to look back at James and give him a little wave of good luck at the door before she ducked through.

Once she was gone, James took a deep, steadying breath. Then he stood and turned to Meghan, who was resting her hand on her sword hilt.

“Trident’s estate, you know where it is?” She asked and James nodded.

“Outside the city walls, it’ll be dark before we get there.”

“Good, he won’t see us coming.” Meghan replied, falling into step with James as the two began to walk from the Oasis. James flexed his right hand, feeling the strange dull ache of the ghosts of his missing fingers shifting with it. Then he clenched it into a fist around the little ring in his palm.

“Let’s go break this bastard and get my sister back home.”