Book 6, Chapter 17: Ghostly Stables
Cayce, I said to myself. My name is Cayce. Not fucking Sarah. Shook my head in the darkness, apologizing to no one but the Fates, “Sorry, sorry, my no swearing rule. But seriously, damn it all!” No apologies this time.
Of all the things I could be thinking about, I was stuck on my name. How many names had I been called over the years? Raven, Jackal, Fox, those I knew. More I could guess. But I didn’t want to and didn’t want to know my previous life. I was a real person. Not a person, maybe, as I didn’t have a childhood. But an experiencing being! Cogito ergo sum – back to my enemy, Descartes. No, you dead philosopher, you won’t win this time. I really am experiencing and this really is reality.
Ok, yeah, I had to give Descartes that one. My reality, the one I lived in – and got tortured in, killed people in, melted mountains in – it was, like all realities big and small, a subjective one. Limited to my mind. A human one, I thought. Probably.
Yes! Whatever else it was, this was my experience and I was, all things considered, human. So, Descartes, stay in your grave. My name is Cayce and I am not a god, but a princess, soon to be queen. If I ever make my fudging sweet sixteenth. There, Fates, no swearing – now give me some good luck for a change.
Horses milling about in front of me, and mine stopped. Suddenly there it was. The ruins of an ancient castle, so high it towered out of the lantern light, but it seemed to me to loom large in the darkness, reaching up to rival the canopy, and these were not small trees. In the darkness, the vines that coursed over its façade were black, making it look like a living entity, waiting and waiting for travelers to step inside its halls before feasting on them.
Captain Gyges said people see ghosts here and I could understand why. There were ghosts here, if you knew where to look. But I didn’t want to, they could stay in the past and leave me be.
A high stone wall remained, guarding the inner buildings. The gate’s stones had fallen and lay like a landslide, large stones near the walls, a slope of smaller and smaller stones toward our path. One by one, the horses were brought through the walls. I directed my horse to follow the others in, patting its neck as we went, saying, “It’s ok, we’ll be safe in here.”
A large stone hall lay ahead, its wooden doors long gone, but vines crisscrossed its surface, trees growing on all sides almost as if holding it up. The vanguard already had a fire going, their horses nowhere to be seen, which meant they were likely stabled further back.
Cresida was suddenly pulling at the reins of my mount, “Come down from there, lest you wake the spirits. I don’t think they will like you. We walk the horses to the back from here.”
“Cresida,” the captain said from off to the right, “don’t be rude to our guest.”
She gave a glare to her husband that would melt glacial ice. Looked back at me, the glare half its original intensity. “Come on, then.”
Trying to ignore her bad mood, I slid off the horse, patted its neck, saying, “Thank you.”
That only made Cresida scowl further, though it was difficult to see with firelight dancing off her face.
I wondered what was bothering her, so I asked, “Is something wrong?”
She stepped closer to me, taller than me, and look down, “Yeah. Don’t you get to close. You understand?”
This was a woman who’d seen me best multiple men in combat. She had courage and anger, I’ll give her that. I put my hand on her shoulder, “You have my word. And anyways, I’m . . .”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing, it’s nothing.” I was going to say, ‘in love with another,’ but the words just wouldn’t come out. Morry, I missed the big man. Where was he? Following? Turned back? I wanted him here, but I also wanted him turned back. Safe. That my tongue wouldn’t form the words bothered me, and I wondered if I was mistaking companionship for romance. Setting aside the thoughts for later, or never, I refocused on the situation at hand, with Cresida holding the horse steady.
“Just, here.” She passed me the reins. “Take your horse for some water in the back. There’s a well. I need to speak with my husband.”
“Yeah, sure.” I led the horse through the building. It was long and rectangular, easily able to host a thousand people or so, and had no ceiling. We passed two fireplaces that were built into the walls, more were probably on the other side, but with darkness setting in and I couldn’t see them.
A short set of stairs lead to a raised area and someone had packed them with dirt, to form a slope. That made it easier for the horses, I guess. Passing this area, through the hallway, which led to what had likely been a kitchen, and then outside. No doors on the exit here, either.
The yard was empty to the walls, save for a ring of stones around what must be the well, and a nearby trough. Someone had filled it, making it easier for me to give the horse water.
The rest of the horses were tied against the far wall. After taking off the saddle and gear and rubbing her down, letting her drink, and finding her a place amongst her friends, I rejoined the others.
***
Cresida and I sat by our fire, the men had long gone off to talk. Other men, the soldiers Gyges had brought with him, had their own fires scattered about the hall. I suppose they were given instructions to stay away from us. Probably for our protection, though I didn’t like that, and wished it had more to do with witchcraft and terror.
She picked up the wine jug, “You want more? There’s no sugar in it.”
“Yeah. Thank you.” I took a sip. Stared into the fire. It crackled, sending sparks up, briefly lighting up the walls around us. My gaze followed them up and I stared at the stars for a while. It was hard to see them, where I was from. Too much light pollution. But how, I wondered, did I know that? I only came into existence when I opened my eyes on this world, on a battlefield, so long ago. Here, the stars were beautiful and profound, filling up the night’s sky.
“So,” Cresida looked at me, offering me an olive branch with her expression, “where do you really come from?”
“I was wondering the same thing myself just now.”
“Bah!”
“What’s that?”
“Here I am, trying to make friends with you and that’s how you answer.”
“It’s the truth, Cresida. I don’t really know where I’m from.” What was I supposed to say to her? I come from a deity’s decision to give up their memories and be reborn on this planet. Or an existence of fighting and drinking and whoring and dying, being reborn, to do it all again. Valhalla. Land of the honored dead and the gods.
No, my distant brothers, that was not the life for me. I never understood why they enjoyed it, reveled in it, existed for Valhalla. And that was why, I knew this to be true, I preyed on those brothers. Mischief, I gave them so much. But the thought was gone like the sparks that blew up into the darkness.
In truth, I felt kinship with those sparks. If my memories returned, I, Cayce, would be smothered under the mind of the deity who existed before me who, by giving up their own existence and experience, Created me and made me so ephemeral. How could one survive the plans of such a being?
“You came from somewhere. And you were taught to fight. You’re an assassin, aren’t you? Of the Blue Valley?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You have no scars, it’s true. They all have scars. But I’ve only ever seen such gifted fighters from their clan. And the way you fought . . .”
“What do you know of them?”
“Will you kill me if I reveal too much?”
“Cresida . . .”
“Promise me.”
“I promise not to kill you for speaking your history.” It was so very tempting, but I did not cross my fingers behind my back.
Her turn to look into the fire. Lifting the cup to her lips, she took a sip, then said, “I was raised by them but only till I was nine. They abandoned me, I don’t know why. So, no, I’m no assassin. They mostly had me doing the chores all lowborn children are expected to do: washing dishes, doing laundry, cleaning the chicken coup. After the mages took me in, my life changed little, for there are always more chores. You’re half my age, so I’d left before you were born.”
“They didn’t provide you any training?” It seemed to me that an assassin’s institution would begin training early and alongside whatever chores they had the young perform. At least, that’s how it went where I was from, from hidden ninja clans to the Hash-hash-im, they all started training early.
Cresida’s eyes moved from the fire to mine, “Where are you really from?”
I wanted to say, so badly, ‘I’m thousands of years old and from a universe you know nothing about,’ but just couldn’t bring myself to. The alternative truth came to mind, and I spit it out. “I don’t, I don’t really know.”
“Who taught you to fight like that then?”
“Are you asking on behalf of your clan? Are you an assassin, hiding in plain site?”
She scowled at me.
I pressed, since I wanted to know. It seemed very unlikely she was an assassin. But one of them had attacked me months ago and it would be nice to know more, if not find them myself. “Where are they located, Cresida?”
“Not a thing I remember, let me tell you. And if I did, it wouldn’t be a thing I could reveal.”
It hit me then, she was probably making all this up just to puff up her chest. She’d seen me do things her husband could only dream of, and she wished she was my equal. “No worries.”
“What?”
The captain stepped into our fire light, “Lady Sarah, if you’ll come with me.”
I didn’t want to get up, felt really comfortable by the fire, with the wine, even with Cresida’s company. But I did, and I kept my mouth shut, just to make everyone more uncomfortable.
***
I didn’t ask him where he was taking me but simply followed. Outside, around the building. Far from the horses, far from everyone. Another campfire, but this one had large cuttings of tree scattered around it. Two people were sitting on them, and one of them was the mage from before. I didn’t recognize the other man.
The captain gestured toward one of the stumps. “Lady Sarah, please.” He sat down after me.
The man I didn’t know passed me a mug.
I took a sip warily. It was ale. Probably safe. It made me wonder if I was still immune to poison. Probably not. My eyes flickered to the mage, and he was staring at me.
His blond hair was messy and short, his oddly darker beard growing in. He did not smile, but pulled his own drink to his lips, the gold and charcoal perseidian iron gleaming in the firelight. His eyes found my own and he looked from my earrings to my wrists, then fingers, to my neck, and into my eyes, and tilted his head a little.
“Lady Sarah,” started Gyges, “I’d like you to describe how the mages fell in battle.”
“Excuse me,” I said, standing and facing the mage, “I am called Sarah. And you are?”
No one moved or spoke but the crackle of the fire and then he stood, bowed, and said, “Talaren, my lady.”
“A pleasure.” I took my seat, pushing my dress forward.
Talaren sat, too, and his green eyes remained locked on mine.
Gyges, louder, “Lady Sarah, if you would, please.”
Sitting still, perfect posture, holding my ale cup in my right hand, left underneath, supporting it, I turned only my head to him, waited a few breaths, looked back at the mage, held his gaze, and spoke. “She rode a horse down from the heavens. Larger, stronger, and faster than any other horse, flawless, shining white coat, the envy and desire of every living horse, riding the currents of the wind. She dismounted, a girl no taller than myself, extended her arm to your castle, Captain, and an immense river of light poured forth, causing the very ground to tremble, and soon the stone walls flowed into the fields beyond, the grass bursting into flame.
“One by one, the mages popped into existence in a giant circle around her, some two hundred yards in diameter, and the very air shimmered, and then she seemed to give up, her arms dropping, and several of the mages rushed her. I should have attacked, at this point, I knew, but I had just seen the girl melt a castle.
“She bested the first dozen in melee combat using only the weapons the mages carried, and I marveled that she should take such an action. I knew then the mages must have separated her from her magic and had a plan, so I did not interfere. Grand Magister Tye rushed out of the circle of mages, quickly faced the girl, and stones lifted off the ground, flying into her and the mages fighting her. She collapsed.
“At this point, I did not believe I needed to intervene as the grand magister shortly had the girl staked to the ground. Then, he pulled out what must have been a knife and began writing – excuse me – carving complex runes into her back.
“I thought the mages had this endeavor well-handled and I thought to simply watch, but one by one the wizards and wizardesses around the circle, the ones removing her powers, fell. They dropped and dropped and still the grand magister cut. His fellows holding the girl fast collapsed into the earth and still he cut her back.
“She didn’t scream out or plead, but she bled. And where her blood touched the earth, flowers grew. As the last mage fell, the ravens and crows burst forth from the trees, screaming and cawing and circling, and then they scattered.
“When I looked back upon the scene, all the mages save Grand Magister Tye were fallen. Fire erupted from his hands, and he said something I could not hear. The girl reached out, touching his shoulder, and they both seemed to turn into light, their faces vanishing, the beam moving upward.
“A loud bang echoed. Silence from the forest. And then chirping, squirrels chattering, and everything returned to normal, except for the bodies lying in a circle around more bodies in their center. He’s gone. She’s gone. I don’t know where they went.
“And I found myself alone.”
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