Chapter 7 - section 1

I passed through the castle as innocuously as I could. It takes a lot of people to keep a castle of this size running smoothly and no matter where you go, you’re bound to run into someone. But I kept my head down and moved quickly. My shoulder still ached, but it had grown into the dull and painful ache that belongs to a lingering pain. What I felt was a reminder that I wasn’t hale and whole but not enough to be truly debilitating.

Far more overwhelming was the uncertainty and fear that was clawing at my innards and had gripped both mind and spirit. Vicky’s absence before had been worthy of worry, but her blood-stained sheets was confirmation that all my fears had been justified. I felt as if my family was getting picked off one at a time and I still had no idea who this unseen assailant was. It didn’t make sense to blame Garrett. He would have had the opportunity to finish the assassin’s work on me while I was unconscious, but he hadn’t. And if Cullen really was planning to wage war upon Garrett, he wouldn’t have sneaked into the castle to injure Vicky. And there was no way that either of them could be blamed for what happened to Dad.

Mulling over the possibilities, I found some of Cullen’s cast off clothing: a tunic, leggings and sash. They were a bit large, but I eased myself into them anyhow. They were a sight better than my bedraggled, corseted and blood-stained outfit. Besides which, it didn’t matter how poorly they fit so long as they protected me until I found the glimmer site that Eva had specified.

Once changed, I took the dagger with me out into the gardens. Through the mist, down the path and into the heart of the tamed and pristine beds I went, not a soul in sight. The air was cool, chill and damp like spring. A copse of riparian trees hung over an artfully laid out stream. I padded over the moss covered roots, ducking between the long branches drooping to trail their tips into the moving water.

The hollow was where I remembered it; just below eye level on the left face of the third tree over. Glancing into the grey and swirling mists for any signs of movement, I dug the page out from between my leggings and smallclothes. Frowning and looking down, I started trying to commit the page to memory. This was no small feat, because it read like some archaic, magical VCR instructions. It was filled with phrases like “in order to augment metallic egress, hammer-weld whilst the fourth house holds the moon and quench in heart’s blood.”

Even so, I read through it all five times. It was clearly meant as a lesson in how to create a bloodsword. Being no smith, most of the technical information made very little sense and the language of the mystical part evaded my comprehension as well. Still, I committed the words to memory by rote. Once I was satisfied that I had gleaned as much as I was capable from the scrap of parchment, I bundled it around the dagger and then wrapped them both in a scrap of oiled cloth also salvaged from between leggings and smallclothes. The cloth would help protect them from dampness and damage for at least a short period of time. Stealing another quick glance around, I shoved the bundle securely into the hollow of the tree, trying not to think about what creepy-crawlies might use it for a home.

Just in case anyone was watching, I circled away before heading back towards the castle. Ignoring the chill wind that sprung up from nowhere, I wondered at the implication of the instructions on the page stashed away. I wondered at the implication of those instructions. Dad’s edicts referenced the bloodsword as if it was something unique. But with that page, was it possible there existed more than one? And if so, what effect could that have on the throne?

I frowned and watched a stray pebble skitter away from the force of my purposeful steps. That we were to scour the Mistlands in search of one of these swords was bad enough. The idea that more than one could be out there seemed downright dangerous. I wondered what power this sword actually possessed. Dad’s edict seemed to indicate it would strengthen our natural abilities to a point where one of us could hold his own against all the rest. Unfortunately, the page Eva had given me was more of a how-to on how to create the sword, not an explanation of what it actually was or how to utilize it.

Although my steps continued, the leather shuffling softly against the stone path, I suddenly caught sight of a shadow moving quickly in my peripheral vision. I turned my head swiftly, mid-stride. The mist was thick, abundant, and concealed any immediate motion from my scrutiny.

“Hello?” I called out tentatively as I slowed to a halt. “Who’s there?”

The condensation in the air muted my voice and made it sound soft and strange. I squinted, peering in the direction I thought the shadow had moved towards. As I watched, the electric tingle of awareness vibrated lightly under my skin like an itch between skin and bone. Everything was still and at the same time, was in constant motion. The mist swirled and writhed, but it was chaotic and constant and definitely not what I was looking for.

Again out of the corner of my eye, I saw something dark flash past. More defined – it looked humanoid and tall, but not bulky. I stepped off of the path onto the moist grass in pursuit. The figure was still no more than a shadow in the filmy smoke-like covering. “Wait! Stop!” I called as I sped blindly into the mist. In the distance, the motion stilled. Hazarding a guess, I queried, “Tristam?”

Only silence met me in response. Even the birds had stopped singing. I mentally kicked myself. Tristam had never set off my fey senses before, even though I was fairly certain he wasn’t a human either. It didn’t make sense that he would set my muscles jumping now. I called out a second guess as I moved slowly through the damp, concealing tendrils that clung to my skin and clothing, “Eva?”

The mist seemed so opaque and solid for the purpose of obscuring my vision that it was disconcerting how truly ephemeral it was when I passed through the walls it formed in front of me. Ahead, the form remained still and slowly solidified as I approached. The fey sensation faded even as I approached the shadow. It seemed so eerie after the fast movement before that it was so completely and utterly still. Almost like the person wasn’t breathing.

And that was because the person wasn’t breathing. As I squinted at the form in front of me, I realized that I had unwittingly been stalking one of the various marble statues that litter the gardens so aesthetically. The fast-moving person I felt must have given me the slip after ducking behind the statue, knowing the mist would hide his escape.

Releasing a healthy curse worthy of a sailor, I turned away, scouring the mist for any living being. There was none, but the slow twittering of birds resumed, loud on my straining ears. I grimaced, shifting my sore shoulder. At least whoever was spying on me hadn’t tried to kill me this time. I could only hope that they hadn’t seen where I hid the dagger.

Fed up with unseen stalkers and the mysteries of the mist, I caught up with the path again and followed it around the castle. Once it joined with the main road, I swung a right and stalked away from the buildings. The sooner I could get out of here, the better. I had had my fill of bullying half-brothers, cryptic artifacts taking a starring role in familicide and strange people popping in and out of existence to kill or save me. Coming here had only made the matters worse. I had more questions than when I had started and to stay here was unlikely to aid me in divining solutions. Was it any wonder I avoided this place? Determination pushed me on as I strode down the south road, looking for the glimmer point Eva had written about.