Of Kings and Shadows

A Ghost of Alarya Novel

Of Kings and Shadows

Prologue

Smoke had never been an uncommon smell around the Unmapped. The farmers often burned their fields to yield better crops, but as Eldin sniffed the air, he realized the acrid smell was much too intense to be normal. Dropping the wooden horse he played with, he scrambled to his feet and flung open his bedroom door. Sparks rushed at his face as a wall of flame and smoke engulfed the front half of his house. He gasped and doubled over, coughing as he inhaled blistering heat.

“Mom!” he screamed, but all he could hear was the roar of the fire, and he flung the door shut again. Heart pounding, Eldin glanced around his room. Smoke poured in between the cracks of his door and now covered his entire ceiling. He dropped to the floor, scuttling to the window in the corner, and hauled himself out. The ground rose up to meet him as he dropped through, landing awkwardly on his right arm. With a grimace, he rose, realizing his house wasn’t the only one ablaze. Nearly every building in his little Unmapped town was alight.

“Mom?” he cried again, but no reply came. The roof to his house collapsed, throwing sparks into the hot air. Eldin stumbled back, a hand over his face as a rush of air escaped, scalding the soft skin of his palm.

Twisting away from the house, he held his arm close to his chest and ran up the dirt road. Neighbors blundered out of doorways, pulling the hands of small children as the fire leapt from one house to another. Hoof beats fought their way into Eldin’s hearing, and he threw himself to the side of the road as a knight in full armor galloped by, narrowly missing him.

The knight didn’t spare him a glance and didn’t slow down until two more knights joined him from the opposite direction and stopped in front of a house. His best friend's house.

His eyes widened as they dragged Rowan’s parents, Nero and Dahlia, out of the house by their hair. The knight holding Nero pressed a knife to his neck, but a black shadow shot from behind the house and slammed into the man, knocking the knife from his hand.

“Get him, Rowan!” Eldin yelled, but his voice was raspy and no one heard him.

The knight dropped Nero, but snatched the child by his collar, dragging him into the air, legs kicking. Eldin forced himself forward, screaming Rowan’s name, but no one paid any heed to a boy only six passes of the comet, covered in ash, and tripping down the road. Tears pooled until they overflowed down his cheeks as the knight threw Rowan onto the front of a horse and jumped on after him.

“Rowan!” His voice cracked and the name finally rang out through the din of screams and collapsing buildings.

Rowan looked back, his teeth bared and hand reaching. “Eldin, help me!”

With legs like jelly, Eldin dashed forward, but the knight kicked his horse and they sped into the night, Rowan’s lips forming Eldin’s name.

He dropped to his knees in the middle of the road, gasping for air. Rowan was gone, and their families were in ruins. Nero bent over Dahlia, unable to wake her. Blood pooled around her motionless body. He screamed her name. When she wouldn’t wake, he leaned in to kiss her forehead and touch her hair before stumbling to his feet, and rushing into the dark alley between his house and the next. Eldin hoped he was going after Rowan’s baby sister, but there was no kidding himself, she probably didn’t make it either.

He wasn’t alone on the road, not at first, but as he sat there on his knees, arms clutched over his chest, the townspeople disappeared into the darkness, riding horses or traveling on foot. To kids like Eldin, these places were forever. They served as home, a place to come back to every night, a safe place to tell stories by the fire, run through the woods, and fish in the river.

The older generations knew better. The Unmapped towns of Alarya were temporary and often lasted as long as ten passes of Yriddan’s Comet, or as short as half, which is why no one bothered to add them to maps.

To the adults, this was just another inconvenience, another bump in the road they had to pick up and move on from. But to Eldin, to Rowan, it was just the beginning.

A whinny pulled Eldin from his reverie, his head snapping around. A horse nuzzled against his cheek, knocking him over. Landing on his arm, Eldin hissed and wrinkled his face in pain as an icy chill ran down his spine and all his hair stood on end.

His eyes traveled up the horse as black as shadow, and over the rider. He sat stiffly, staring down at Eldin with clear eyes, bright from the surrounding fires. It was all he could see, because a mask covered his face and a long cloak hid his body.

Eldin’s heart slammed against his chest, unable to look away as the man did the last thing in the world he expected. He held out a hand. Eldin reached up with his good arm and grasped the man's palm.

A shock passed through him. He cried out and attempted to pull away, but his hand caught between the man’s fingers. A voice echoed through his head in a language he didn’t recognize.

“Mahk sa je nāk ras lȳr, mahk sa rūkah shīī je ym jut.”

The man on the horse translated, his voice deep and gruff. “To you I pass this Rite, so you can follow me safely into the night.”

Eldin’s hand was on fire, but he couldn’t scream, couldn’t run, couldn’t move. The man’s eyes held him captive until the chanting faded, his hand cooled, and the pain in his arm disappeared. Ash fell on their connected fingers as the outside world came rushing back. The crackling flames, the dark smoke swirling around them.

He was in control of himself again, but didn’t feel the need to run anymore. He belonged with this man, and Eldin would follow him to the end of Alarya and back. A question formed in those unnerving eyes, and Eldin nodded.

The man lifted him by the arm, depositing the boy on the back of his horse. He examined his palm and found an unfinished circle with a dot in the middle. He rubbed it, but it didn’t come off. Eldin wrapped his arms around the man and the horse started forward, unprompted.

“What’s your name, boy?”

“Eldin,” he whispered into the cloak. It was soft and warm, and his eyes were heavy.

“Welcome to Ghosthood, Eldin. My name is Neilan.”

Eldin

Eldin knelt on the rocky ground, shielded by a boulder. Pebbles clattered down the mountainside as his foot shifted, and he froze, listening intently. The shadows of the night kept him hidden, but they didn’t erase sound. Luck was on his side. Nobody heard him.

Laughter floated down from an opening in the mountainside above his current location. The bandits hid their lair well. If it wasn’t for his superior hearing and ability to see in the dark, he would never have found them, but that’s why the Golden Order hired a Ghost for the job.

With a twist of his fingers, Eldin made a sign and whispered, “Tak je.” Shadows swarmed around him and the world turned black as they made him into one of their own and deposited him at the mouth of the cave fully formed.

“Skatē je.” The shadows clung to his clothes, keeping him hidden from anyone on watch as long as he kept to the darkness. The soft leather of his boots muffled his footsteps while he crept into the slim opening. As he rounded the corner, the first flicker of firelight danced across the damp walls.

He could make out three distinct voices. Two men, one woman. Laughter devolved into harsh words as some joke went too far. A low growl and a crack of wood reverberated through the cave. The placating voice of the woman calming her comrades followed.

Eldin took advantage of the distraction, sneaking through the cave until coming to a cavern. He slid along a wall thrown into shadow by a rock pillar rising toward the ceiling. Flames jumped and faded in a fire pit in the middle of the cavern, lighting up a crude table with four chairs. A man occupied one, his arms crossed, glaring at the other, who had stood up too fast and knocked his own to the ground. The woman was also on her feet, one hand on the standing man’s arm as he thrust a finger in the other's face.

“My ax is as sharp as any sword of yours!”

“Please. The rust will kill someone faster than any wound you inflict.”

“Quit your bickering already. What are we, four? We only have a few days left, let's try to get along?”

The standing man swiped up his chair and sat with a huff, his hand straying to the ax dangling from his belt. The woman sat at the edge of her seat, glancing between the men.

Eldin’s smile grew. He bent, trailing his fingers over the ground until they came across a sizable rock, and flung it across the cavern. It hit with a clang and all three bandits leapt to their feet, pulling out weapons.

“Who’s there?” called the man with the ax.

“Let’s check it out.”

Differences forgotten, the two men stalked toward the noise. Eldin turned his attention to the woman. Her eyes flickered around and she licked her lips, holding a short sword aloft.

With a flick of his wrist, Eldin caught a knife with a leaf-shaped blade in his palm. He flipped it to his fingers before launching it at the woman. Her eyes widened, and she staggered backwards as the knife sank into her neck, slicing through her vocal chords and airway in one hit.

She gurgled, clutching at the back of the chair before sinking to the ground. Neither man noticed her demise as they whispered to each other about rats. Eldin lurked along the edge of the cavern, taking his time as the men meandered closer.

They were looking directly at him when he emerged from the shadows, a hand resting on the dagger strapped to his lower back. It came out of the sheath with a sigh as he punched the closest man in the nose, stopping his scream, and shoved the blade up under the second man's jaw. Pulling it free with a wet schlik, Eldin flicked his wrist a second time, pulling out another throwing knife and flinging it at the first man. His head snapped back as the knife buried itself in his eye. He hit the ground less than a moment after his friend.

Eldin wiped his blade on the fallen man’s vest and plucked the throwing knives from each victim.

“Bale? Andra?”

The shadows swallowed him as a fourth bandit entered the cavern. A shiny new sword hung at his waist and leather armor adorned his chest. He swaggered through the cave, but his demeanor changed when no one answered his call. The sword slid from its sheath in a whisper of leather, and the bandit slid into a stance. The whites of his eyes glowed in the fading fire as he circled the cavern, finding the bodies of his friends and giving each a kick.

“Ready to die, Commander?” Eldin’s voice rang throughout the cavern. The man jumped, swinging his sword from side to side as he tried to pinpoint Eldin’s location.

“Over here,” he sang, moving through the shadows like a snake.

The Commander slashed with his sword, hitting the rock pillar. Eldin chuckled as the man swung again, dropping the shadows and catching the sword with his own. It was shorter than the typical sword, thin, and without a cross guard.

A twist and flick later, the larger sword flew from the Commander's hand. He snarled and pulled a knife with a serrated edge, jumping at Eldin, who stepped to the side. The bandit tripped over his outstretched foot. He used the propulsion from his windmilling arms to land the knife in Eldin’s calf.

A hiss escaped his lips, and he went down on one knee. Reaching around, he jerked the over-sized knife from his leg. Eldin winced and rose, flipping the knife so he held the blade between his fingers. The Commander stared at him, eyes wide as they twitched between the bloodless knife and Eldin’s leg.

“What are you?” he said, voice shaking as Eldin launched the knife. It slammed point first into the man’s chest, but Eldin never saw him fall. Darkness blotted out his vision as the bandits and cave disappeared. He fought against his own mind, trying to claw his way back to reality, but the vision taking over his senses was too powerful and he was transported to a time when laughter was abundant, and kids chased each other between the legs of adults.

“Catch me if you can, Rowan!”

Rowan. The name coursed through him and slid against his skin as if it was a physical entity, and Eldin was back in the cavern on his hands and knees. He had to blink several times for the imprint of a laughing boy to fade. Standing shakily, Eldin walked to the Commander and placed the palm with the Ghost Rite over his chest.

“Kīnə.”

Black smoke rose between his palm and the dead man. When he took his hand away, the Commander’s chest had the Ghost Rite burned into it. Eldin clenched the same fist, and the Rite evaporated, leaving behind a money bag.

Eldin grabbed it, got to his feet, and walked from the cave without looking back. He slipped down the side of the mountain, pebbles giving way with every step, until he reached the tree line and leaned his back against one.

Rowan.

The name wouldn't get out of his head. What was the name Rowan to him? The vision may have been some hallucination, brought on by the onslaught of adrenaline kick starting his heart and causing his blood to flow faster, but he had never heard of it happening before.

He pursed his lips and whistled a low three tone tune. A twig cracked, and Eldin turned to find his horse, Kūma, standing behind him, swishing her long black tail back and forth. The horse nuzzled his hand, and Eldin patted her nose before pulling himself into the saddle.

Digging through the saddlebags, he withdrew another pouch, which he added the new payment to, and tucked it into his belt.

“There is an Unmapped near Shadowrun. Best we keep our distance from the larger towns,” Eldin told Kūma as she stepped with precision down the last stretch of the mountain. He could just make out the dark shapes of homes, taverns, blacksmiths, and shops at the base, all shut up and asleep for the night. Two torches shone like fire bugs at each end of town, where the Royal Road ran through.

Eldin directed Kūma well around the sleeping town. The presence of a Ghost almost always caused an uproar, and he wasn’t in the mood for it tonight. Jobs were just as easy to come by in the Unmapped villages as they were in cities, sometimes even more so, depending on the job.

This Unmapped was one he often frequented, resulting in a sort of tolerance from the people. The residents dubbed it Lightbringer because it sat right outside the shadows of the mountains. The sun shone all day there, as opposed to Shadowrun, who was stuck in the shadow of the mountains for all but an hour each day. Eldin enjoyed the advantages of such a place, but it made the people grouchy.

Candles and wyrm oil lanterns hung in windows as Kūma clopped into the village. The low rumble of talk floated through an open window of the only tavern, The White Lily. Eldin left Kūma standing at the hitching rail. There was no need to tie her up, she wouldn't leave without him.

He pushed open the doors, and talk petered out as people stared at him. Eldin ignored them. It happened every time. Within moments of walking up to the bar, the locals took up whispering to each other and pointedly kept their eyes down. They may not like him intruding, but he wasn’t a stranger.

“Same as always?” The barkeep asked. She had mousy brown hair tied in a knot on the top of her head and had a motherly air about her. Eldin nodded and dropped a few coins on the bar. He always gave her extra for the lost business his presence might cause, which was probably why she tolerated him.

Eldin took the frothy beer and found a table in the corner. The patrons unconsciously shifted to keep from touching his cloak. There were myths and legends about Ghosts and no one wanted to find out if they were true.

The drink slid smoothly down Eldin’s throat, and he closed his eyes with a content sigh. Alcohol only affected Ghosts after a kill, when the adrenaline was high enough to beat his heart more than once every so often and circulate blood faster.

As he relaxed, so did the locals, and they resumed normal conversation levels. This was his favorite part of the night, the moment people went back to laughing and talking. It allowed him to sit back and listen. No other source was more valuable for gathering information and learning about the state of the world, especially when people rarely deigned to talk to him.

“Steve?”

“Yeah, that dragon on the Isle of Dragons who can speak every language—”

“You? On the Isle of Dragons? Ha—!”

“Yeah, the volcano up there went dormant. The dragons are running out of food—”

A raucous laugh interrupted the conversation and Eldin switched his attention from the men at the bar to a couple of women a few tables away. Their heads were bent close together, so Eldin made a sign under his cloak and whispered, “Stȳ’ahk.”

Everyone’s voices became clearer as his hearing increased. He focused on the women, drowning out the rest of the room.

“Cera was in Kingston and told me the king is sick and has officially named his grandson Crown Prince.”

“Meh, what does it matter to the likes of us? One king dies, another takes his place. The laws never change with the theocracy still in place. That Ghost forsaken Golden Order still hates women.”

“I don’t understand why they cling to such old traditions when the rest of the realm has obviously moved on….”

With the matter evolving into the fragile masculinity of the religious populace, Eldin moved his gaze to a table across the tavern.

“…raised prices on trading! I tell you, those piscines are going to be the death of trading by sea…”

The door of the White Lily slammed open and three men with swords strapped to their belts stomped in. Eldin released his magic and took another sip of beer. The room went silent.

The man in the lead put his hands on his hips and searched the crowd with his eyes. He sneered at the room from behind Alarya's largest mustache. The tension in Eldin’s muscles eased as mustache’s eyes swept right over him and all three pushed their way to the bar. The patrons grumbled, but made room. None of them wanted a fight.

But the three newcomers didn’t care what anyone wanted.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Fifteen iron pennies for one tankard? Where do you think we are, Kingston?”

“I can give you a tankard of swill if you want cheap. Quality comes at a price no matter where you go,” the barkeep said, glaring at them.

“Quality? Ha! Your quality is no better than the piss Kingston taverns serve to the homeless. I’ll give you fifteen iron pennies, but for a tankard each.” He slammed the money on the counter and his friends grinned at each other.

The barkeep slid the money back to him. “If it’s so bad, keep your money and go back to Kingston for a drink.”

The man’s face contorted, and he growled. “Why you…”

The stranger flung out an arm to grab the woman, but Eldin signed and whispered, “Tak je.”

He disappeared from his table and reappeared in a burst of shadow next to the man, grabbing his wrist before he could touch the barkeep. She stepped back, her eyes wide. The stranger whipped his head around and his face drained of color. His friends both took an uneasy step backwards.

“I think it’s best if you leave,” Eldin said, his voice low and menacing.

Rage took over any fear the man held, and he ripped his arm from Eldin’s grasp.

“And who are you to tell me what I should do?”

“I am Eldin, a Ghost of Alarya. I frequent this fine establishment on occasion, and I don’t need people like you screwing it up.”

“People like…” His face cycled through several shades of crimson. “It’s you monsters who screw things up!” He unsheathed his sword, but Eldin was ready. Before he pulled the sword up to attack position, Eldin lashed out with his fingers, jabbing the point on his wrist that caused it to go numb.

The sword crashed to the ground. No one said a word, but those closest vacated their tables for a safer spot. Before the other two could pull out their weapons, Eldin snatched the dagger from his lower back and twirled, slicing through both men’s belts. Their swords and daggers clattered to the floor before Eldin’s cloak settled around his ankles.

“Look out!” someone cried.

Eldin appreciated the gesture. No one had tried to help him before, but he could already sense the fist coming at him. He sidestepped and brought his elbow up, smashing the man in the nose. Blood spurted and he reeled back, crashing into an empty table. Gasps came from multiple people, followed by a cheer.

It only served to make the men angrier. “Get him!”

Eldin twirled, unlatching his cloak and letting it fly from his body. It wrapped around one of the goons, and he scrambled to pull it off. In that time, Eldin sent the second one hurtling over his hip and into the leader, who had just risen. They both crashed to the ground.

“Are you finished?” Eldin asked, glaring at them. The third ripped the cloak from his head. He paled and stepped back, watching his leader disentangle himself from the other man.

“No pretty boy in a mask gets the best of me.” The leader pushed his friend off and jumped to his feet.

“If you want it that way.” Eldin took a step back so all three men were in his sight, and brought two fingers up in a sign over his chest.

“What the hell is this?” The leader stepped forward.

“Māra.” A shadow flickered behind Eldin’s clear eyes, then burst from him, sweeping the three men off their feet and out the door. Screams followed, growing fainter as the shadows pulled them into the black of night.

Silence followed as a wind whipped through the tavern until a woman shut the door and it settled. A cheer followed and beer slopped from tankards as everyone celebrated the expulsion of three more trouble makers.

Eldin didn’t hear it, though. The vision caught him unawares, faster and even more vibrant than before. He didn’t have time to try to keep it at bay. The men’s screams threw him back to the night his village was on fire. Ash swirled and fire lit up the world. Men and women ran from their burning homes, coughing and crying. Children screamed. A horse galloped away and Eldin heard his name.

“Eldin! Help!”

A boy sat on the horse, looking around the knight who had a hold on him.

“Rowan!”

It happened again. The name was called, and it rippled around him like a wave until he was back in the tavern on his knees. The barkeep knelt in front of him, her hands on his shoulders. He blinked and looked at her.

“Are you okay?” she asked. The rest of the room was back to its rowdy self. People helped each other move tables back to their correct positions, and a few were gathering the broken table and chair.

“I–I think so. Something weird keeps happening.”

Normally Eldin would have brushed off the help, but this time he let the barkeep pull him to his feet. She grabbed his cloak from the floor and held it out to him.

“Thank you for helping me,” she said.

“I couldn’t let some guys who can’t take no for an answer make trouble in my favorite place to brood.”

She smiled. “You are always welcome to brood or otherwise. I think you’ll find the others to be more tolerable, if not entirely friendly.”

Eldin glanced around. She was right. Several patrons held up their tankards to him, which was more attention than he ever received in all the times he’d frequented.

“Do you have paper and pen?” he asked.

She bent behind the bar, rummaging around until she produced a crumpled piece of paper and a slick steel pen. She pushed them over the counter to Eldin. He bent over the paper, writing his name and a chant. Under that, he placed his palm with the Ghost Rite.

“Slatah et mōt je ahl.”

A wisp of smoke rose from the paper, and when he lifted his hand, the Rite had transferred onto it. He blew on the ink to dry it, folded the paper in half, and stuck it in the empty money pouch along with a handful of gold, silver, and iron coins.

The barkeep's eyes widened as he dropped it in front of her. “If you ever need help, place a coin on the symbol and read the chant above. I’ll be here in an instant. There’s extra in there for a new table.”

Eldin swung his cloak around his shoulders and turned to go.

“Wait!” The barkeep ran around the bar and stopped in front of him. “My name’s Kera.”

Eldin was relieved when she stuck out her hand instead of hugging him. “Eldin.” He grasped her forearm, and she did the same.

“Thank you, Eldin.”

He nodded, and she stepped aside. Eldin could feel her eyes on him until the door shut with a soft thunk behind him.