Arc 1: Chapter 13: Castle Cael

Arc 1: Chapter 13: Castle Cael

The mist lingered — I imagined it would so long as whatever will was behind it wanted it to. It writhed and curled around the edges of the boat as the vessel cut the murky water of the lake, the wispy tendrils parting only sullenly around the wooden hull. Lanterns attached to the hull of the boat helped light our path, but I moved us forward slow and cautious all the same.

I propelled us through the mist with a long oar while Catrin sat at the front, occasionally giving me direction. She seemed to know her way well through the fog-laden expanse of the those waters. Which was, I was certain, a problem. She’d known the ghoul mercenaries by name. She knew the baron was gathering Things of Darkness to him… which led me to suspect she might be one of those things.

But what, exactly? Not a ghoul, I thought. But I didn’t think she was just an ordinary resident of the village, either. She seemed very human, but that meant little for some beings. I could try to use my powers to look through that mask, but if she was something inhuman then she’d sense me doing it.

Better to pick my moment.

“You listening?”

The question ripped me from my thoughts. The slow, steady rhythm of my rowing faltered, and it took me a moment to realize I’d missed the last thing Catrin had said. I glanced at her where she sat at the front of the small fishing vessel. She’d donned a yellow dress and brown bodice over her night garment, though she was still underdressed for the chill air over the lake, the skin of her neck and shoulders exposed. I felt chilled even under the weight of my heavy cloak.

When I still failed to reply, Catrin arched an eyebrow at me. “I asked you what your name was, big man.”

I hesitated a beat before replying. “Alken.”

“Ooo…” Catrin lifted both eyebrows then, leaning forward with interest. “Haven’t heard that before. Sounds fancy. You some kind of lord?

I was struggling to place her accent. It sounded like a Marchlander a bit, though she spoke with an impatient, breathy haste that made her words blend together. It seemed more the product of a verbal tic than a dialect.

“Not a lord,” I said in response to her question.

Catrin folded her arms, studying me as though I represented some interesting puzzle. “So what are you? I don’t think mysterious wanderer is an official profession. Tends to be more of a cover for something, right?”

I didn’t reply. I doubted she’d take too kindly to learning I was an assassin, or that she was guiding me right to my target. I could have made up a story, but the more fiction I wove the more suspicion I might draw. I’d never been a good liar.

Silence was easier.

Catrin narrowed her eyes at me. She had large eyes, expressive and a shade of brown only a touch lighter than her hair. “Not much of a talker, are you big man?”

I turned my eyes back to the lake and sent the boat forward with another rotation of the oar. “No.”

Catrin snorted. “Suit yourself then, but I’ll tell you this — you’re about to go into a nest of vipers. You’ve got a mighty fine cutter there, but where you’re going, this castle?” She lifted one pale shoulder in a shrug. “Lot of nasty in those walls. Falconer’s been putting out the word nearly a year now, and those corpse-eaters aren’t the only ones who’ve answered.”

She leaned forward and propped her elbows on her knees. I avoided her eyes, looking out over the lake instead, but her gaze was intent. “Just want to make sure you’re sure about this, big man. Don’t know if you’re some hard killer or warlock, but you can always turn this boat another way. I’ll lead you safely from the marsh and have you gone before sunup, my word on it.”

I did look at her then. “Why? You don’t know me.” I paused and added, “for that matter, why did you intervene with those ghouls?”

Catrin spread her hands out in a helpless gesture. “Because they were going to eat you? Even if they didn’t, the rest of their band of killers would have.”

“So it was altruism?” I asked, spurring the boat forward with another push. The water rippled beneath us, our boat the lone disturbance in its black stillness.

Catrin leaned back against the edge of the boat and made a shooing gesture. “Sure. Why not? You think I’ve got some ulterior motive?”

“You knew that one by name,” I said. “That vice-captain. Maybe you’re one of them. Maybe you’re taking me somewhere private to make a meal of me yourself.”

Catrin was silent a while. My comment hadn’t been a joke — I had every reason to suspect she was dangerous. If so, I’d rather know before she brought me into the midst of a den of creatures. Out here on the lake, with just the two of us, I might have a chance.

I focused on the words of an Oath in my mind, feeling the first crackle of power flow through my limbs, anticipatory and ready to surge forth in a burst of amber flame. Even the wooden oar in my hands could prove a deadly enough weapon if I imbued it with aura.

I waited, and was ready.

Catrin parted her lips and bit lightly on the tip of her tongue, studying me with a detached sort of focus, like a painter planning a future stroke of his brush. “That’s rather forward of you, big man, seeing as how we just met and all.”

My rowing faltered for a moment. Catrin laughed, a low and throaty sound of genuine mirth. “Ah, you stoic types are always fun. We’re almost there, so we’ll put a rain check on that. Careful here, there are rocks.”

I didn’t have time to reply, or really even process her words, as the waters of the lake began to grow treacherous. I had to put all of my focus on the dark, fog-shrouded abyss beneath the boat, looking for the telltale shadows of sharp rocks jutting up from the depths. Catrin murmured the occasional direction, and soon a larger shadow formed in the thinning mist ahead of us. It clarified itself into tall pillars and spikes of rock emerging like broken teeth from the depths, which soon began to coalesce into cliffs.

A barren island lay ahead, and on that island rose a castle. I couldn’t make out its true dimensions, but the cliffs, the, darkness, and the fog made its walls seem a monolithic shape. I couldn’t see all of it, but could make out the grim outlines of towers and rampart walls crawling with writhing fog, as though the fortress were some incomplete phantasm.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

More, there were other, smaller structures rising from the water, which I had at first taken to be more rocks. They weren’t. They were pieces of wall or the shattered remnants of drowned towers. Pieces of a larger structure, I thought, or even a town lost to the lake.

There was the snap of leathery wings above. I tensed, letting the boat float so I could turn my attention to the shroud of fog obscuring the sky above. Again, I heard the sound of huge wings beating, disturbing the pale white haze. The echoing sounds of claws scrabbling across rock filled my ears as something unseen crawled over the lake-drowned stones.

My instincts screamed that this was the trap. I bared my teeth and turned my attention on Catrin. She saw my expression and held up her hands defensively.

“They’re not going to hurt you as long as you’re with me!” She said. “They’re the baron’s sentries. Just…” she swallowed. “Just calm down, alright?’

I realized that amber flames were flickering along the edges of the oar, along with the scent of burning wood. I studied the woman for a long moment, waiting, but neither she nor the creatures lurking in the surrounding rocks made any move to attack me.

I let the power fade and dipped the oar back into the water. “Are we near?”

Catrin nodded. “Yes. Just a bit further now.” She turned her attention ahead, the motion stiff.

Once the tension of the moment was gone, I felt a stab of guilt. I buried it and focused on the task ahead.

We’d arrived at the castle of Orson Falconer. My fingers tightened on the oar as I inwardly steeled myself for what came next. I had no specific plan — couldn’t have one, until I knew what I was dealing with.

But I was going into the dragon’s den, and no mistake.

Catrin guided the boat into a narrow ravine which sank into the depths of a cave. There were torches ensconced on the sheer rock of the cave’s entrance, and the water extended through a tunnel within. This eventually brought us to a dock, little more than a wooden platform built along the cave’s wall. A passage had been cut into the cave wall, torches illuminating it, and a set of stairs leading up. We pulled the boat up alongside the dock and clambered up onto the platform.

Catrin looked far less relaxed after we’d spotted the castle. I think my hostile reaction to the things flying above the lake had much to do with that. But that wasn’t all of it. She looked up at the cavern ceiling above and shivered. “I hate this place,” she said. “Let’s get this done quick, alright?”

“You’re taking me to the baron?” I asked.

Catrin shrugged. “Just making sure no one throws you off a wall. Once that’s done you’re on your own, big man.”

I still didn’t understand why she had helped me, and I didn’t trust her. Still, I was within the fortress where my quarry made his abode. I followed her out of the cave, keeping my senses alert both to her and to my surroundings.

We ascended a steep set of stairs carved into the solid stone of the cliffs. This soon transitioned into something more artificial, smooth walls giving way to layered brick. Catrin lit our path with a lantern taken from the fishing boat, but even still the darkness seemed to press in behind us the further we went, as though agitated by the presence of the light.

Further, there was a very faint scuttling sound. I focused on it, and was certain I’d heard it. Like insects crawling across the walls by the hundreds. The ground seemed to pulse beneath my feet, as though reverberating with the beating of a great underground heart.

This place was unhallowed.

Catrin turned to look down at me, lifting the lantern. I had stopped, letting her get a ways ahead. “You alright?” She asked.

I suppressed a shudder and nodded. “Fine.” I wasn’t. I felt light headed and had broken out into a sweat. The shadows seemed a beating summer heat pressing down with eager energy.

Catrin nodded slowly. “You feel it, don’t you?” She licked her lips and glanced nervously around the walls. Though, I thought perhaps there was a glimmer of something besides fear in her eyes. A nervous excitement. “Lot of bad’s happened here,” she said. “Heard about some of it from my aunt, when I was just a girl. She used to say the walls of Castle Cael are made as much from bone as stone.”

“You’re a local?” I asked. I’d thought she was like the Mistwalkers, here for the Baron’s gathering.

Catrin shook her head. “Not a local, but I’ve got relatives about. I’ve never called any place home for long, really.” She considered a moment before adding, “I guess that’s part of why I’m here. If the Baron’s not full of shit — and I’m not saying he isn’t — might be that could change.”

“What do you think about what he’s doing?” I asked. I tried to say it lightly, conversationally. “The Baron, I mean. This gathering.”

Catrin shrugged one freckled shoulder. “Do I think a House-born recluse who’s dabbled in the Forbidden Arts can bloody the Church’s nose? I don’t know. Wouldn’t mind seeing it done, though.”

“You’re not fond of the Church.” I didn’t make it a question, or put any special emphasis on the statement.

Catrin’s voice turned bitter. “It’s more like they’re not fond of me.”

There wasn’t any conversation after that. I followed in the wake of Catrin’s swishing yellow skirts until we finally reached the end of the long stairway. It brought us to a short tunnel with a heavy oak door at the end. Catrin rapped on it three times with her knuckles, and it opened to reveal a large chamber with the look of a foyer. Halls branched off in various directions, and an intricate chandelier of ancient design hung from the ceiling.

The door had been opened by a gray-uniformed Mistwalker. I tensed, knowing instinctively that he was also a ghoul, but the mercenary — a younger-looking man who’s half-dead state was hinted at only by an unnaturally gray pallor — ignored me and dipped his head at Catrin.

“Cat! Thought you were working in the village tonight.”

“I was,” Catrin said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder at me. “But one of the baron’s guests got lost. Thought I’d bring him over before the rest of you tin-heads got the wrong idea.”

“Guest, huh?” The guard turned his attention on me, and his welcoming attitude vanished. He studied me with a casual disinterest, as all the best sentries do. He was tall, leanly built, and somehow made his drab uniform and battered cuirass look fashionable. He had long, lank hair a very pale blond, and his thin face was dominated by a crooked nose.

He fixed ice-chip blue eyes on me and pursed his lips. “Fashionably late, is it? His lordship is hosting some others who just arrived from the north.”

Catrin scrunched her nose. “More?”

The Mistwalker, Quinn, just shrugged. He laid a hand on the sword at his hip in a casual, easy gesture. “Scared, Cat? Don’t worry, you’re safe enough.” He patted his weapon and flashed an easy smile, though it was perhaps too wide and manic to look quite human. His teeth were the color of old ivory.

Catrin snorted in contempt. “I’d rather swim with sharks than trust a corpse eater to keep me safe.” Her expression tightened with concern. “Quinn, there’s not many people in Caelfall, If all of these predators Falconer is bringing in start getting hungry…”

Quinn scratched at his neck. “They’re not all maneaters. I think one of them is just a necromancer, or something.”

Catrin’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Don’t be dense. If the baron loses control of his guests, people will start dying. He promised he would keep his subjects safe.”

Quinn’s lazy smile returned and he leaned forward, his voice turning conspiratorial. “Don’t worry, Cat, I’m sure there will be plenty enough for you. Speaking of, you free tomorrow night? I’ve got a shift in the village.”

Catrin’s voice emerged encrusted with a layer of frost. “I’ll be occupied.”

“I’ll bet.” Quinn flashed his too-wide grin again, then turned to me and jerked his head toward the stairs. “This way. Dinner’s just started.”

I started to follow the ghoul, but paused and turned back to Catrin. She was staring into the castle with a worried look in her eyes, her lips still forming a thin line.

I hesitated a moment longer. Then, before I could convince myself to let it go I said, “I should apologize for how I acted on the boat. For frightening you.” I dipped my head into a bow. “You brought me here safely. You have my thanks.”

Catrin tilted her head to one side, a strange look passing over her face. “It was nothing. Good luck, big man.”

Somehow, I sensed she meant it. Bemused by the chance encounter and suspecting I’d probably never see the strange woman again, I turned to follow the ghoul deeper into that house of darkness and dark things.