How had she known?
Masis practically growled as he tore off another chunk of cured venison with his teeth. He rent the mouthful into tiny bits before forcefully swallowing it all down. He sat before a crackling fire which gnawed on logs and twigs with ravenous gusto. Night had fallen, bringing with it hordes of tiny winged devils that swarmed about him. He sheltered his head and turbulent thoughts in the cavernous depths of his cowl.
He had slept fitfully. All through the night Kyla's words had echoed in his dreams. Waking bleary-eyed and grumbling, he had ridden Ava hard, trotting her with frustrated purpose, All the while that question had kept rattling around in his head.
How could she have known? Masis wondered. Except by being there.
The woman possessed abilities. His encounters with her made that abundantly clear. Maybe even magical. But if she possessed the ability to conceal herself from even a night wight's terrible eye, what other powers could she command? Could she have intervened?
She was out there, somewhere, circling the bounds of the fire's flickering glow. With his new Sight he could not find her, but he felt her. Her movements, her very presence, vibrated in that dark atmosphere, sending ripples into his being. Eyes fixed on the fire's heart, his core throbbed as they collided with him. Ripple upon ripple upon ripple drove into him.
Tense jaws tore meat. Glowing coals shifted. Crickets chirped.
Kyla's eyes burned into him from somewhere in the darkness.
Masis flew to his feet. "Where are you?!"
"Now, that's something you don't see every day," said a man's voice from behind him. "Now, is it, brother?"
Masis spun, the fire behind him deepening his cowl into an inky well.
Two men stood some five paces from where he had sat. Tattered clothes hung from their husky bodies. Patchy facial hair dirtied their faces.
"No, brother, you normally don't find people screamin' like a banshee at night, 'specially in woods where wighties might be creepin' 'bout."
Both men grinned, their teeth yellowed with grime. Even with the fire's smoky aroma, Masis' nose twitched as the men's pungent unwashed odor struck it. They swaggered forward, thumbs thrust into belts and fingers fidgeting, stopping after taking a handful of steps.
Masis stepped back, angling his Shadow mark away from the duo. His hand went to the pummel of his seax, his spine stiffening as his eyes flicked between the newcomers.
"How can I help you, gentlemen?" he asked, flatly.
"My, don't he talk all educated sounding," said the man to Masis' right. His baldness set him apart from his companion.
"Smooth and easy sounding that's for sure," said his companion.
"Can I help you with something?" asked Masis. His heart beat faster. The men's slanted stares made Masis unsteady.
The men's greasy smiles stretched even further.
"There he goes again," said the bald man's companion. "All smooth like."
"Sounds nice, don't it?" said the bald man. He drew himself up, pressing his hand to his chest while looking down his nose at Masis, appearing a bit like Humphrey the butler. "I am Grisweld and this is my brother, Grimold. We have traveled far this day and are parched beyond belief. Could you spare us some of your water, good sir?"
At his last word, the brothers fell into each other, snorting and slapping each other's arms.
"I'm Gris," the bald man said, beginning again in his normal voice. "This here's Grim. Do you have any water? We're both a bit dry."
Masis made no move. Their laughter did little to put him at ease. The firelight cast the men's shadows onto the towering trees, stretched and menacing, intangible giants that danced about wildly with every flicker and fade.
Neither Gris nor Grim made any move. They stood easy, wiping the humor from their eyes. They looked at Masis expectantly.
Shrugging off his wariness with a sigh, Masis stooped to one of his saddlebags, his hands working the flap open. He disturbed the bag of silver with his brusque movements, the jingle of silver sounding out over the cracks and snaps of the fire. He kept his face from the firelight, before he rose to face the brothers.
"Here," said Masis, tossing the waterskin.
Gris caught it easily. "Many thanks."
Pulling the stop from its top, the man took a long pull before passing the waterskin to his brother, who meticulously wiped its mouth.
"Can't be too careful," said Grim, winking. " 'specially, when it comes to me mealy mouthed brother." Grim's grin fully revealed his brown, cankered teeth. He took several long drinks. A few drips dribbled down his chin, soaking into his sweat-stiff shirt.
"So, what in Manu's name is a young lad like yourself doing out in the middle of Asthurn in the middle of the night?" asked Gris, seeming sincere enough.
"Heading to the capital," said Masis.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's dangerous to travel by yourself? 'specially, in this part of the forest. There are some nasty folks about. Didn't your da teach a little caution?"
Masis wilted. His breath caught. Memories of that night arrested his lungs. "I'm afraid neither he or the tutors got around to that."
"Isn't that sad," Grim said, his tone sharpening. "Ma and da didn't get good enough tutors. You must have had a rough go of it. Me brother, Gris, and me, now we had the best tutors in the world. Didn't we, Gris?"
Gris slapped the back of his brother's head. "Shut up, Grim! Don't be so thick. If you didn't catch it, the boy's parents died." He turned back to Masis. "Sorry 'bout that. Me brother doesn't always know when to keep his mouth shut."
Gris offered the waterskin back to Masis.
Masis stayed rooted to the spot.
"Listen lad," said Gris, "I'm sorry about me brother but it's no reason to be rude so," – he shook the waterskin – "thanks for the drink."
Reluctantly, Masis stepped forward, his hand outstretched.
A calloused hand snatched his wrist. Pain flared up Masis' arm as Gris bore down with his considerable weight, pulling and spinning Masis towards him. Masis' back pressed against Gris's gut. A knife, appearing in the man's other hand, threatened Masis' exposed throat.
"Now, lad," said Gris, his mouth right next to Masis' ear, "I might be a bit more polite than me brother, but that doesn't mean I don't agree with him. This forest is no place for such a respectable boy such as yourself."
Grim sucked his breath in sharply. "Gris, look at his face."
"Bit hard right now, Grim," said Gris, his hold on Masis tight and biting.
Grim's finger quivered as it pointed at Masis' marred face. "He's a ruddy Shadow."
Masis froze in place. In the tussle his cowl had fallen away.
"It don't matter," said Gris, twisting Masis' arm, sending another bolt of pain up his shoulder. "Grab what coin he got and we'll be out of it." Grim thrust his chin out, urging his brother toward the discarded tack.
Kyla's warning about the silver floated up in Masis' mind, mocking him. He struggled to pull his arm free. The knife's rough edge pressed into his throat, stilling his movements, all coherent thought banished.
"Nah, nah, nah," tutted Gris. His odor choked Masis' nostrils. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. This knife here is mighty thirsty, so I'd stay as still as possible or she might just take a sip. Now, me brother is going to have a bit of a look in your things over there. I thought I heard an interesting clinking sound when you so kindly got us water. Coins, maybe? Your parents...I mean your tutors really didn't teach you anything useful, did they?"
Gris's words finally spurred Grim's substantial girth into motion. Lumbering up to the saddle bag, he snatched it from the ground, thrusting his hand into its depths. A lopsided, grungy grin festered onto his face as he dragged the silver laden pouch into view
"Look at this, Gris," Grim said, shaking his find. "I'd say this is a tidy little sum. Drinks on me tonight, brother. But what are we going to do with him?"
The blade hesitated over Masis throat.
Masis could taste the metal on the back of his throat. Like seemed attracted to like as the bitter taste rose in his throat. He was supposed to be afraid, angry even, but somehow, he could not quite touch his emotions. It was as if a layer of oil coated his mind and heart, and his consciousness slid along its surface unable to latch on.
On impulse, Masis reached for his inner light, even though it had failed him that night, that night when he needed it the most. He hadn't tried to use it since then. It couldn't be trusted. That power had failed to save his family. Perhaps, it might save him. It quivered but remained inert, as though bound.
Why am I not surprised? Masis thought, bitterly.
"Well," Gris said, "I don't much fancy having a wightie come after us for roughing up his pet. But if that pet is dead..."
His words faded off.
Masis stiffened in his hold.
Kyla's eyes pierced him again.
Gris chuckled darkly at Masis' reaction. Completely ignorant.
Two hands snatched Grim's head from behind. Before he could utter a syllable, the unseen person twisted sharply. His neck snapped. Each vertebrae cracked, scraping against each other. The life in Grim's eyes blinked out as he slumped to the ground.
No one stood behind him.
Both Masis and Gris stood there mouths agape. The knife drooped away from Masis' neck. A log cracked in two, sending sparks skyward. One landed on Gris, burning tension back into his body. The knife snapped back to Masis throat. Gris turned in circles, his breathing heavy.
"Is it a nightling?" asked Gris.
"How should I know?" Masis said back.
"You're their pet, aren't you?"
Masis clenched his fists. "I am not their pet!"
"Whoever's out there I'll slit this here boy's throat," Gris called out. "You hear me? I'll give him a big, new smile, ear to ear."
He started to back away from the fire's light, angling toward the trees.
"I'll do it. I will. Don't even think..."
A hand wrenched the knife away from Masis' throat. His savior's body, however, appeared as though viewed through a haze, indistinct in form and shape. Bones crunched as the hand squeezed Gris's fingers over the hilt. The man screamed out in agony, his hold on Masis loosening.
The figure knocked Masis away before twisting Gris's arm until he was impaled by his own knife in one smooth, shoulder-popping movement. The figure drove the knife up into Gris with such force the man's stiff body sailed through the air. He landed some fifteen feet away.
Sitting up, Masis took in the scene.
Grim lay dead next to the fire, his head bent at an unnatural angle. Gris had landed on his back, hot blood pooling about his body. Both were perfectly still.
The murky individual turned toward Masis. The person's head tilted this way and that, as would an animal, and Masis could make out the faint sound of sniffing. Seconds passed. The figure straightened, quieting. The fog slid away, revealing the crisp lines of a woman's frame, strong, agile—a sleek predator.
It was Kyla, a jackal's smile on her lips.
"We keep running into each other," she said. "I think we should just travel together for a while to keep from meeting in any other awkward situations such as this."
Without another word she padded over to the fire, depositing herself on the ground without a sound.
Masis scrambled up from his sprawled position. Slack-jawed, Masis evaluated the woman now warming her hands by his fire. A dead body lay barely an arm's length away from her. She paid it no mind. Gris's blood put the reek of iron into the air, a bitter, cold scent that clogged the nose. She didn't seem affected. By what power had this half-mad woman, so casual with murder, so nonchalant around death, come into Masis' shredded existence, made all the more eerie with her animal-like quirks and eldritch abilities?
"Who are you?" Masis asked.
"Apparently, we're going to have to work on your memory as well as your awareness," said Kyla. "I remember very vividly telling you my name the last time we met."
Her hands, outstretched and languid, petted the fire's heat. But her face did not twitch and her body remained stock still. All the while she dissected Masis with her eyes.
Some part of him felt her eyes detecting his heartbeat. Its rapid, runaway pace throbbed in his neck. Those eyes could see him. Completely.
"Kyla," he said, barely above the fire's crackle.
"It's good to know your brain isn't completely addled." She cocked her head. "I won't have to start from the ground up."
Masis focused on Kyla in his mind. Since that night he had mostly ignored his new sense. This Sight was connected to his light—both had emerged when he saved Saret—and the latter had failed him, so the former couldn't be trusted. Now, in his mind, Kyla flickered. Compared to other people, she was a candle while they were bonfires. Masis would easily miss her, mistaking her for some animal, if rushed and his attention were elsewhere.
She can't be human, thought Masis. He shivered. "What are you?"
"I might have to take my previous assessment back," Kyla said. "If you don't know a woman when you see one, you have very little hope of recognizing your enemies."
Masis' gaze hardened with focus. "I know what a woman is. I just lost three of the most important women in my life. You are something else."
Kyla's lupine smile didn't falter as she crossed her legs as if she were at a tea party. Her hands rose to her hair, deft fingers checking her tight braid. "Not very gallant, are you? Your mother might be a little shocked to hear how her son was addressing a lady. You certainly don't sound like the son of a duke."
"My mother," – Masis choked on the word – "died in the grasp of a monster. How did you know who it was?"
"How did I know what?" she asked. Her eyes stayed on the flames.
Masis sprang back to the fire. "By Manu! The green-eyed witch that did this to me." He pointed at the swirling pattern on his face. "How did you know it was her? Maybe you're one of her nightlings. Maybe you were there watching my family die. Or waiting your turn. Just hoping to get the chance to finish one of them off and then toss them into a heap like kindling."
Masis' chest heaved. He sucked in a lungful of cool night air, sharp and bitter as it collided with the molten fury that built in his core. Gooseflesh erupted up and down his arms.
How could this woman...this creature be so flippant about his family's death? What gave her the right?
"Have you eaten?" asked Kyla. She slapped her hands down onto her thighs, rubbing vigorously.
Masis gagged as his bubble of rage popped. Every word, every phrase, biting and acrid, he had been readying, like a hunter with a javelin, were blunted with that one question and eaten up in the silence that followed.
"Actually, I know you have," said Kyla. "But I haven't and I'm famished and since you have such a lovely fire here, I think I'll take advantage of it and actually cook my meat."
She rolled backwards over her shoulders, planting her hands in the dirt to flip herself to her feet. Pirouetting neatly, a single bound carried her into the trees. Within seconds the squeals of a coney shrieked out. A moment later another. Two small, limp forms arced out from the tree line, landing where Kyla had sat. The woman followed, her stride as satisfied as a just preened cat.
Ava nickered at the quick movement, prompting Masis to shuffle over to her, his fingers atremble as they ran up and down her forehead. The sound of butchery prompted him to turn. He whipped his head back to Ava with the discovery of the half-mad Kyla licking her gory fingers clean. He laid his forehead to his horse's, his nose sat just above her muzzle. He drew in a deep breath of Ava's aroma—sweat and heat and life. His body sagged. His eyelids slumped closed. His breath eased out.
Masis inched back. His hands, still on Ava's head, anchored him for a sweet, painful instant. "At least, I still have you."
A pop and crackle drew his attention back to the fire. The two coneys, skinned and spitted, hung over the stone-ringed blaze, built up again with additional fodder. Fat dripped into the coals, sizzling, burning a gamy scent into the air.
Masis sank to the ground, his saddle his cushion. He eyed the wild woman from across the fire.
What does she want from me? wondered Masis. His energy was drained, his emotions strangely apathetic.
Kyla tended her kills with utmost care, turning the spits as a mother might rock a cradle, but she would tilt her head this way and that, ever listening, ever vigilant. Masis doubted anyone could sneak up on this creature, even while she poked, prodded, and nibbled her dinner.
With a nod of her head, Kyla plucked them away from the heat. A few bloody drips still fell from both. Some of it ran down the spits onto her hands and she slurped it up with relish.
"Can't let them get too done," she said, more to the night than to Masis. "Otherwise, all the flavor gets burnt out."
She moistened her lips in anticipation. Flicking her eyes up to Masis, she extended one spit in his direction, nodding inquiringly.
He shook his head. After all he had just seen, Masis' stomach gurgled at the prospect of food.
She shrugged, stabbing one spit into the ground, while she attacked the other. Fingers and teeth tore into what little meat there was. Bones even crunched on occasion or flew into the fire or landed on one of the brigand's corpses. Kyla plowed through the first and the second disappeared with equal enthusiasm. The lady ate with much less precise ferocity than with which she fought.
Masis grimaced. He did not know what to make of her. On one level, he was fascinated. On another, he simply wanted to vomit.
She spoke with a cultured tone, but swore and offered up innuendo like a tavern wench. She appeared no different than any other woman, but possessed inhuman abilities. She moved with a courtly grace, but killed with skill and no hesitation. Beautiful yet deadly. Though Masis had learned that those two qualities were often synonymous
What is she? The question repeated in his mind, over and over. Like a bola, the question entangled his thoughts, causing them to stumble and never conclude.
A belch erupted from the opposite side of the fire.
"There's nothing like a brace of coneys for a midnight snack," said Kyla. She had drawn the edge of the cloak to her mouth and daintily wiped the corners. "Wouldn't you agree?"
Masis said nothing.
The flames had fallen down into the embers. Only a low glow lit the grove. The soft light made every contour of Kyla's face as smooth as glass but as gentle as silk. Legs crossed, arms folded beneath her bust, her eyes wandered the hellish landscape of the fire pit. The two spits she had tossed in earlier smoldered and reeked of blackened fat.
In the dim light, the two thieves' bodies could have been mistaken for nothing more than mounds of dirt.
"It's a pity she won't come near you when I'm done with you," said Kyla. She had matched her tone appropriately with the quality of the light.
"Excuse me?" said Masis.
"Your horse. Ava. She won't let you ride her by the time I'm done with you. She probably won't let you within ten paces of her to be completely honest."
Masis brows knit together. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He had lost his family, would he now lose his horse as well? Was he to lose everything?
"If I could offer you revenge," said Kyla, "what would you give to have it? What wouldn't you sacrifice to see those responsible for your family's death completely at your mercy?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Revenge," said Kyla, voice hardening, bled of its patience. "It's a simple enough concept. Do unto to others as they did to you. What wouldn't you give for it?"
"How could you possibly give me that?"
Her head snapped up. Steel eyes glowed with the coals' ragged light. "What wouldn't you give?! Imagine your family piled in your sitting room and answer the question. What wouldn't you give?"
Masis clenched his teeth. His body shook. How dare she speak so casually about that night. How dare she speak so casually of his family. Both seaxes sat propped against his tack. As nonchalantly as he could, he relaxed an arm until it rested right next to his weapons. The leather of the scabbard pressed into his elbow.
All of Kyla's prior gentility drained from her person, apparently sucked to some deep recess within her. Catapulting to her feet, she began to pace. Her breath huffed out between barely parted lips and, like a she-wolf, she stalked back and forth before Masis.
"It's an easy enough question, isn't it?" asked Kyla. "I would have thought that you of all people wouldn't hesitate for a chance to eradicate the creatures that destroyed your family. I would imagine that the mere thought of that she-wight killing her father and letting her pets devour your mother and sisters would make you mad with bloodlust. Maybe, I was wrong about you. Maybe, you're just weak. After all you hardly struggled as they held you there to watch."
As her final words dribbled out, her movement slowed.
Masis' trembles condensed into stillness. He held his breath. The air grew hot in his lungs.
"You were there." Masis didn't ask. He stated.
Kyla threw her arms toward the sky. "Of course, I was! How else do you think I know all that I do?" She lowered her arms and angled her face so that he could just see the corner of her mouth. "Are you just as stupid as you are weak?"
Masis shrieked. He flew from ground, snatching up a seax. A metallic hiss announced the emergence of his blade. He charged, swinging at Kyla's neck. Steel raced toward vulnerable flesh.
Kyla ducked just beneath the attack and pivoted away with a shadow's grace and a dancer's precision.
Masis stumbled forward, keen edge whistling into empty air. A sharp pain traveled up his backside as a bare foot landed a solid kick.
"It's obvious now why your family died," said Kyla. "If you were the only thing protecting them."
"You Manu cursed wightie!" Masis' blade streaked back around missing the unruffled Kyla by inches. He stumbled to a stop.
Why hadn't she done anything to save them? He had just watched her extinguish two highwaymen as casually as one would blow out candles. Surely, she could have done something.
Masis thrust his seax at her stomach. He extended his body to its full reach as his fencing instructors had taught him.
Kyla spun into the thrust, sliding along his weapon, infuriatingly close, inhumanly quick, just beyond his ability to harm. She slapped him as she passed.
"Or is it you were glad when they died?" asked Kyla. "You secretly wanted Asthurn all to yourself."
Masis whirled back to her, his hand on his stung cheek. Again, she stood unperturbed. The sight incensed him.
"That's it isn't it?" asked Kyla. "You just wanted to get rid of that little pestering sister of yours. What was her name? Saret?"
From the bottom of his soul sprang a keening wail, filled with every particle of anger and despair that had built within him. He threw himself at the woman. His blade sliced down toward her head. A single bead of sweat rolled into his mouth.
Before the salty droplet dissolved on his tongue, Kyla stepped under his guard. She struck his wrist, knocking the seax from his hand. The heel of her other hand slammed into his sternum lifting him off his feet.
Masis sprawled on his back near Gris's corpse, his breath gone. He lay there stunned, the struggle to draw even a lungful of air hot agony, which evaporated his mad rage. He gasped again and again. The very air fought his efforts. Slowly—tortured seconds distending into minutes that lasted like hours—his breathing calmed, though still raspy. He groaned as he sat up, a hand on his near-broken chest.
Kyla just stood there, poised. "What wouldn't you give to kill every last night wight out there?"
Masis sighed. Why was this so important to this woman? "I would give anything—everything—to see them all burn."
"I can give you the torch and the wood. You'll have to tie them to the stake."
"How could you possibly do any of what you say?" asked Masis. Small pebbles and twigs bit into his palms. He ignored them.
Kyla dropped to her haunches. Her voice came out as low as the remaining coals, their light just setting off her face's contours. "You've seen what I can do. I can make you more than I am. I can make you more than anything that has ever walked Werold in over four centuries. And nothing will be able to stand against you. Nothing. I will make you as the Warden of old."
The Warden, Masis thought, incredulously.
Half-man, half-beast. Half-history, half-legend. Half of Masis' mind sneered, the other half teetered toward belief.
The coals still orange with hunger ate at themselves, their clicking and chinking the sound of their hot teeth working away.
Motionless, with the smell of smoke in his nose, Masis had but one question for the lady. "Could you have done anything to save them?"
Kyla rose back to her full height, face blank.
"Could you have done anything to save them?" Masis asked again, louder.
Again, no reply.
Eyes smoldering, he climbed to his feet. "Could you have saved them?!"
Kyla's limbs were relaxed, her mouth a calm straight line, her eyes slanted with a considering angle. "To be frankly honest I didn't expect them to even leave you alive, so there was no point in risking myself for a rescue that would have most likely failed."
Air no longer existed in Masis' small campsite. But he did not need it. The heat from moments before leapt within his core to sustain him.
"No point?" he asked, mouth slack with disbelief.
"I hoped that you would survive," said Kyla. "But there was little chance of it. Quite frankly, it was a complete stroke of luck that you came away with your lifelight only being sipped and a Shadow brand on your face. You should consider yourself fortunate."
"Fortunate?" Masis forced the word out. "You could have done something, but instead you let my family die."
Kyla's expression hardened with annoyance, nostrils flaring. "And I would do so again. I am not going to risk myself or my mission for the lives of five or six people. There is something far greater at stake. Sacrifices have been and will continue to be made that are anything but pleasant. Such is the harsh reality of life. Or has sitting on a velvet cushion your entire life blinded you to that fact?"
Masis rushed her. The heat had built until it could no longer be contained.
Sidestepping, Kyla tripped him.
Slamming into the ground, bits of dirt and leaves buried themselves into his cheek. His discarded seax lay just within his reach. He groped for it as he scrambled to his feet.
"Are we really going to do this again?" asked Kyla. "Think about what I am offering you."
"I wouldn't accept your offer if Lord Wilo, himself, told me I should."
Kyla chuckled. "If only you knew."
Her sudden bark of laughter surprised Masis, but he didn't lower his guard. He flicked his blade out at her.
She stepped away from the slash. "I could give you everything you want."
"You could have given me my family."
Masis thrust out at her.
Kyla flicked his blade away with a single finger "You reject my offer then?"
"I'll kill you!"
Masis brought his blade down where she had stood. It bit into nothing but earth.
She had vanished.
"I'll take that as a no then," said Kyla, her voice ghosting out from every direction. "Do tell me if you change your mind."
Masis turned in circles. "I'll never change my mind. Never! Do you hear me? I'll never change my mind. You were right about one thing though. I am going to get my revenge. I'm going to make anyone involved in my family's death pay. And Kyla, that includes you!"
*DON'T FORGET TO VOTE*