A Flutter In The Night (Kyrn's Legacy Book 1) Read online

  In his chambers, Kyrn cleaned the small wound over his left eye. It was not fatal in the least, but it would surely leave a scar. Maybe father will approve, he thought. After redressing himself in an attire more appropriate for the night’s festivities, Kyrn scuttled hurriedly from his room to once again find his younger brother.

  The halls were lit magnificently with dazzling blue candles, no doubt from the elder’s quarters, and smelled of freshly picked Turmaple flowers; no doubt also from the elder, for it took nothing less than magic in these parts to grow something so beautiful and colorful. And he’d heard rumors of the elder’s innate magics.

  Ulzrich would, of course, fix himself in his quarters before attending the night’s events, and the setting would undoubtedly make him feel at home.

  This was Grimmrich—a sight you and I could only dream of.

  At the end of the hall, Cecelia rounded the corner, red-faced and flustered. “Where is the little one?” she asked Kyrn frantically.

  “Elrich?”

  “Yes Elrich. Who else?” she snapped.

  “Well,” Kyrn continued, “I haven’t seen him for a while. We ran into Abellia when we returned, and he ran off. I thought he’d have come directly to you,” he lied.

  Cecelia scoffed. “Your sister knows better than to send that one off alone.” She turned quickly on her heel and headed off the way she’d come. “Where is your mother when we need her?” she grumbled as she walked away.

  Kyrn laughed to himself at the sight of a bewildered Cecelia. Yes, he thought. Where is mother indeed? More of her would mean less of you.

  Through the halls he rushed, until once again Kyrn was nipped by the cool breeze of Grimmrich. The evening sun was now only glowing slightly as it crept behind the jagged mountains of the west, and Kyrn marveled at the sight. He wondered what cold, foul beast lay in those mountains, granted such a stunning position to watch the sun from within the clouds. And, with the night sky darkening, the mystical lights strewn about Grimmrich sparkled immensely, and just in time for King Ulzrich to strut through the front gates on his snow-covered black steed. Kyrn admired his father as he strode past the guardsmen inquiring on the details of his recent journey.

  King Ulzrich, Son of Heinrich, paid them hardly any mind, for his somber face showed his weariness. Like his steed, the king’s fur-coat was drenched and coated with white powder, his face blue beneath his greying beard. As he passed by Kyrn, the king offered his son only a simple nod and continued towards the castle.

  ***

  When Elrich awoke, he found himself in a very quiet room. There were a few miscellaneous barrels, two of which he was seated up against. Across from him, seated on top of a larger barrel with legs swaying to and fro, the witch sat. Elrich nearly leapt to his feet, but, instead, sat frozen in fear.

  “What do you want with me?” he asked, voice quivering.

  The witch responded only with a terrifying grin.

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  Now the witch laughed; a quiet, high-pitched chuckle that made Elrich’s tiny hairs stand upright. “Kill you?” she asked. “Now how would I get what I need from you if you’re dead, little one?” The witch floated gracefully from the barrel, landing softly on bare feet. Inch by inch she crept towards Elrich. As she neared him, the witch crouched low, letting her hollow eyes pierce his. “Let me tell you a story,” she whispered.

  Elrich’s eyelids became heavy, but he held them open with all his might. He knew they hadn’t fallen shut, but still, his vision went black, and it felt as though his body had sunken through the floor, into a strange new world of quiet suffering.

  He found himself seated in a dark forest, leaned up against the largest tree trunk he’d ever seen. A dark fog cast a glow with the waning rays of sunlight, and even the air around him seemed to reflect against some of the lingering fog. It looked poisoned and sickly, but Elrich knew the scent that lay beneath somehow.

  Grimmrich, he realized. He was in the forests outside of the city, yet they seemed so different. Was this what is to come, he wondered?

  Elrich forced himself to his feet, and he immediately felt the need to rest, but he trudged on. His arms felt weary, and his legs burned from some unexplainable exhaustion, as if he’d been traveling for days. He sighed, breathing in a new smell of campfire smoke. It woke him like a splash of chilly water to the face. Startled at first, he thought it was best to investigate, while keeping his distance.

  Elrich crept quietly through the forest, crouching down within the ghastly green fog at his feet. He followed only his nose, at first, the smell of smoke growing strong, thicker, burning his nostrils. He could almost see the thickness from the burning wood fill the air. Out of nowhere, the trees became more sporadic and displaced, until, finally, Elrich found himself in a clearing within the forest.

  It was a small, perfect circle. On the edge—where Elrich came to a halt, keeping the advantage of the cover of trees—he noted a few stumps here and there, but the rest of the forest was clean. Green grass—unlike the rotted ground he’d been traveling on—filled the circle, and in the center sat a small cottage.

  Too curious to pass on the opportunity, Elrich left the cover of the woods and walked slowly, carefully into the clearing. The cabin was tiny, made purely of wood, less the crooked, cobblestone chimney jutting through the roof. He could finally see the thick, grey smoke billowing from the awkward chimney, and the faint glow of candlelight shone through the paned windows on either side of the front door.

  The bright moon shone down with full force as the clearing provided no cover. Elrich was truly in the open and, knowing so, decided that there was no other choice but to carry out his investigation in the safest manner possible.

  He approached the door. Hearing no discernable noises coming from within, he peered over his shoulder. There was nothing. His fierce knock on the wooden door echoed through the empty clearing, startling even himself. Again, he glanced around. Still nothing.

  He waited.

  No response.

  Again, he knocked.

  Nothing.

  With slight hesitation, Elrich twisted the knob on the door. It opened, though he’d expected it to be locked. He quickly stopped, worried he would be mistaken for an intruder; however, he was intruding, though his intent was not malicious.

  Hello. I mean no harm. Is anyone home? He went through the cycle of typical shouts he could project into the home. He decided on none of them, for he couldn’t think of an appropriate phrase that would convey, “I’m no more than a curious intruder.”

  Elrich looked back at the forest, where he’d entered the clearing. Even with the full light of the moon, the trees were concealed in darkness.

  Putting one foot ahead of the other, Elrich entered the cabin. From the doorway, he could feel the warmth of the fireplace inside. In the center of the cabin sat a red chair, in front of the crackling fire. Dark shadows leaped across the room. The soothing warmth relieved his tired eyes.

  “You feel it, do you not?” came a voice from behind.

  Elrich jumped as the door he’d entered from slammed shut. Turning around, he found himself face to face with an elderly man. His eyes were stark white, pupils grey. Elrich assumed the old man to be blind, if not, as close to it as one could be.

  “I’m… sorry,” Elrich stuttered. “I didn’t mean to…”

  “The changing of the lands,” the old man continued, showing no concern with the young boy’s apology. He slowly outstretched his arms on either side, keeping his palms facing the ceiling of the cabin. The green fog from the forest crept through the cracks in the front door, seeping in like it was drawn to the old man. As it did, it spiraled around his feet, wrapping up and around his body like a hungry snake.

  Elrich watched as the room darkened. He could smell the thick smoke fill the cabin as the fire extinguished behind him. The room was still alight, cast in beautiful, yet oddly terrifying hues of the noxious green fog. He had never heard of a lonely cabin within
the woods of Grimmrich, and, through all their travels and adventures, he and Kyrn had never stumbled across such a sight. Though, this particular cabin looked as though it’d been inhabited for years.

  As Elrich’s eyes followed the green fog throughout the room, he noted the cracked dishes piled high within the sink, miscellaneous books scattered through the shack, coated in dust and crumbs. This was indeed someone’s home, yet Elrich couldn’t imagine how it’d gone unnoticed for so long.

  Before long, he found his eyes again entranced within the emptiness of the old man’s. When the green glow encircling the room wrapped snuggly around the man’s chest, his body straightened sharply, and his eyes widened with the green glow. Whatever the fog was, and Elrich had known from his brief walk in the woods that it’d not been an ordinary mist, had encompassed the man, body and soul. Whether it be willingly, Elrich was uncertain.

  He could feel whatever force had possessed the man seeping into his own body, through his nose and mouth with each breath, through the cracks in his skin. It was a heavy burden, he could feel it course through his veins. And, before he knew, Elrich was one with the old man, he was seeing through his eyes. Elrich didn’t know whether the man was using Elrich to see once again, or whether the old man was showing Elrich what he wanted, what the witch wanted him to see.

  It mattered not. Elrich was one with the man. His mortal body, that of a young boy, no longer remained. He could no longer see the old man, for he was seeing through his grey, absent eyes. The cabin no longer sheltered him. Instead, he stood in a wasteland of black rock, scorched and singed black stone. Jagged hills outstretched for miles, revealing nothing but the ebony peaks that touched the crimson skies, and the molten lifelines that ran through the cracked ground.

  Elrich began to feel lightheaded, dizzy, and the world around him spun. His legs turned to a wobbly mass of over-exerted muscle, and he fell to his knees, his palms scraping against the cool stone. The weight of his head grew and grew until, finally, he could no longer hold his head high, and it drooped towards the ground, revealing to him only the darkness.

  ***

  Kyrn crept quietly and quickly through the castle halls, halting outside his father’s chambers. He had recently spied from the shadows of the corner of the hall, watching his father enter with Celri Delmont and the elder Northal, both seated on the Grimmrich High Council. Kyrn pressed his ear softly to the wooden door and listened to the muffled voices speaking softly inside the room.

  “He could not lie of such things,” came Delmont’s tender tongue. “Not of such dangers.”

  “Indeed, he could,” argued the elder, “but I fear greatly that he is not.”

  For a moment, there was only silence. Then, brief, pacing footsteps and, finally, King Ulzrich spoke:

  “I wish greatly that my tale was nothing more than fable, but I speak the truth of what darkness has fallen over Stalholm. Witches walk the streets, afraid of neither priest nor guard, and, I assure you, they were of evil nature. That, I could feel soaking into my very bones.”

  “We must then get this news to the elves to the north, if one should be able to find their great kingdom once again,” answered Delmont.

  Kyrn stirred in his crouch outside the door. The elves! he thought. They had been lost for hundreds of years. Though some still roamed the wild lands of Einroth, none had ever found their hidden kingdom of Castreeth in the Forest of Castrolyl.

  Ulzrich grunted. “Perhaps the elves will know what must be done.” A moment of quiet fell upon the room to mirror the king’s contemplation. “This darkness grows thicker in Stalholm as we speak, and soon it will fall upon us in Grimmrich, if it has not already. It shall not hurt to send an emissary to the elves, though I must remain behind to protect my lands.”

  The elder Northal laughed admirably at his king. “A wise choice that I may find myself agreeing with. Finding the elven kingdom could be but a long process, and, even so, the elves may not come to our aid. So,” he added, “who shall you send in your stead, Ulzrich.”

  “I have an idea,” Ulzrich answered. “One which I do not like, but must be done.”

  Again, Northal laughed. “I thought it would be so.”

  Kyrn rose from his spot, ready to flee when he heard the approaching steps of the men in the room.

  “The Dark Ones have risen,” King Ulzrich said.

  ***

  Young Elrich raced through the back alleys of Grimmrich, still quivering from the grim tale the witch had uttered through rotted teeth. He wondered how much of what she told could be true, but truly didn’t want to know the answer. His father must know the news he was told, the people of Grimmrich must know what lay ahead of them, waiting to fall upon the city like a crippling plague. Though, Elrich wasn’t sure how to inform his father without the witch’s knowledge. He could still feel her eyes burning into the back of his neck.

  As he rounded a corner, nearly to the market square, he collided with another, and they both fell to the snow-covered ground. Elrich looked up to lock his cold eyes with his brother’s.

  “Elrich!” Kyrn shouted. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you for nearly an hour.”

  Elrich had lost all track of time as he was entranced by the witch’s tale. The sky was now dark, lit only by the magical fires set around the town. “I…” he began, but Kyrn interrupted.

  “You must find your sister immediately,” Kyrn said, rising to his feet and pulling his brother up with him. “Find her and bring her to High Council chambers. I must bring the two of you up to speed. It’s about Father.”

  As Kyrn turned and vanished into the black shadows of the alley, Elrich noticed his brother’s bow bouncing upon Kyrn’s cloaked back.

  ***

  Cluttered chatter and bustling became more prevalent as Kyrn came closer to the city square. Townsfolk making their way to the festivities, soon to begin, danced their way along the wet cobblestone streets. In the sky, fireworks burst into mists of color above the sagging stone buildings of the square. With each passing building, Kyrn noticed the toll the harsh winters had taken on Grimmrich, and the care the city council didn’t have for the slums. Even during the festival, the Grimmrich council had not taken the slightest amount of care to make the streets look presentable.

  Adjusting his bow (for he had not known what to expect, hearing the fateful words of his father), Kyrn followed a rowdy couple through the alleyway, dimly lit from the orange glow through the windows of the adjacent houses, that cut a more direct route to the city square. They weaved through, and Kyrn felt as if the walls were closing in on him as their fit became tighter, less comfortable.

  The man ahead of Kyrn, seemingly already having had too much to drink, tugged at the young woman next to him, clinging more tightly to her dress than she would have liked, so it seemed. Studying the young couple as he walked behind them, Kyrn felt a slight weight fall upon his shoulder and, upon inspection, he noticed a few specs of rubble. Brushing it off, he looked up at the rooftops hanging over the alley. Had it not been for the slight mistake, with the commotion of the festival increasing with each step closer, Kyrn would not have spotted the cluster of shadows skulking overhead, briskly racing along the rooftops.

  As they ran, the group of shadows flung their arms about, and Kyrn could not clearly make out the dark figures.

  Then, he understood.

  Before he had even the time to warn the oblivious couple ahead of him, the shadows leaped from the rooftops, like diving vultures, swooping down to the prey rustling in the grasses below.

  The sole shadow that didn’t land upon the cobblestone wrapped its arms snuggly around the drunken man’s neck and hung on his back.

  The other three goblins watched in anticipation as they shrieked and hissed in their guttural tongue. They stood no higher than three feet, but the goblin attached to the man’s back proved more powerful than the man in his drunken stupor.

  After a brief state of shock, the young woman cried out for help, realizing wha
t was happening. She yanked at the goblin on her partner’s back but, as the goblin unsheathed a small dagger—large enough for the small creature to consider a sword—she released her grip and staggered back until she slammed into the wall of the alleyway houses.

  An explosive cloud of reds and greens burst high above the city and, as quickly as the boom of the firework echoed through the night sky, the goblin ran his dagger across the drunken man’s throat. When his knees hit the cobblestone, the goblin leaped from his back, rejoining his kin, and they threw their arms high in excitement as the man, clutching his throat, fell face-first into the ground.

  Just as quickly as it had started, their excitement dulled. As a group, they turned their bloodthirsty attention to the young woman, her hands clasped over her mouth to cease her rapid breaths and cries. Perhaps she thought that if she remained as quiet as possible, the goblins would not feel the need to reunite her with her lost lover.

  It seemed the goblins didn’t share her belief.

  The same goblin who had so quickly ended a life stepped slowly from the pack and towards the woman. Even in the shadowed veil of the alley, Kyrn could see the goblin’s yellow teeth sparkle in the moonlight as it grimaced.

  “No!” the woman cried. “No, please!”

  The goblin didn’t falter from planting one foot before the other. It licked the deep-red blood from its dagger and it dripped from the goblin’s wicked smile.

  A quick spark of hope fluttered in Kyrn’s heart, and he removed his bow from over his shoulder. Before the goblin could inch its way to the woman, Kyrn had slipped an arrow from its quiver, fitted it with the string of the bow, and loosed it, free to split the cool air of the night as it soared towards its target.

  Chapter Three

  Welcome Guests

  A flickering green glow emanated from Grizlok’s eyes as Biddledur followed the creature through the narrow tunnels of the Black Rock Mountains. Biddledur Foltar had noticed that, as the dull light from the outside world was no longer strong enough to follow them through the mountain’s tunnels, the light floated from the demon’s eyes like a green, burning flame. Somehow, it comforted Biddledur. It was an eerie sight, and, at that, some equally odd feeling churned in his stomach. The two of them had already been walking through the claustrophobic passages for what surely felt like hours, if not days. A small light—even if it was from a demon’s glowing eyes—was the closest thing Biddledur would find to comfort here.