Page 15 of Skalterra By Nightmare (The Skalterra Duology #1)

Ferrin’s face was unreadable with the light of the corridor sconces at his back. He stood motionless, staring at the unconscious man on the bed.

“That’s the Grimguard,”

he finally said. It wasn’t a question, but I answered him anyway.

“Yes.”

“He’s in Orla’s bed.”

“He’s used it more than I have. I think it might be his bed at this point.”

Orla watched her uncle with apprehension, her hands poised against the window sill, ready to propel herself into action if the need arose.

Ferrin yanked his goggles down over his eyes and held out a hand.

“I don’t know where you got the Skal on your belt, and quite frankly, I don’t think I want to, but you are going to hand it to me, and I’m going to end this.”

I pushed Orla behind me and strode forward to stand between Ferrin and the bed.

“I didn’t carry him all the way up here so he could be murdered.”

Ferrin closed the door behind him.

“And we did not waste Skal bringing you here so you could save the man who wants to destroy both our realms!”

he hissed through gritted teeth.

“Why is he up here at all?”

“We found him injured in an alley while we were hiding from a Grand Barony guard.”

The longer I spoke, the quieter I got.

Ferrin ripped his goggles from his face.

“What?”

“They were angry that we stole Skal from the city supply,”

Orla explained.

Ferrin’s gaze raked over Orla, looking again at the bottles of Skal on her belt, and he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

“Galahad and I are securing Skal! From the Baron! Who you stole from and who probably won’t give us Skal or passage to Riverstead now!”

He pulled his hands down his face, and then paused with his fingers in his beard and his eyes trained on my chest.

“Where the hell did you get that?”

I tugged at the edges of my Von Leer gear.

“It’s called a hoodie. I willed it into existence, I think.”

“Ferrin, you should see what Just-Wren can do—”

Orla interjected.

“I can tell you what she can’t do. She sure as hell can’t offer an excuse good enough to explain the unconscious Grimguard in my niece’s bed!”

His eyes widened as his gaze lingered on Ciarán’s bandaged chest.

“Orla, is that your cloak?”

“We didn’t have bandages!”

Ferrin’s eyebrows had long-since disappeared into the shadows of his cockatoo hair, and his nostrils flared as he exhaled heavily through his nose.

“We’re headed north!”

His words strained with the effort of keeping quiet.

“Into the mountains! Orla, you’ll freeze! And we’re supposed to be halfway to the Grand Baron’s mansion by now. We’ve been granted an audience, but this—”

Silence fell as we waited for Ferrin to find whatever words he was looking for, but they evaded him, and he settled for shaking his head again and pulling on his beard. The candle crackled on the bedside table.

“You can’t kill him,”

I finally said.

“Why not?”

Ferrin’s eyes glinted.

“You just said we’re on our way out of this city. He’s in no condition to follow us. Once he’s able to so much as sit up, we’ll be long gone.”

“And if he does follow us somehow—”

“We aren’t murderers.”

“Wren Warrender, you don’t know us.”

A low growl rattled on the edges of Ferrin’s words.

“Mother wouldn’t do it.”

Orla’s voice wavered.

Ferrin blinked in the candlelight.

“I knew your mother longer than you—”

“Then you know she’d never kill someone who couldn’t defend themself.”

“And that got her killed, and nearly me with her.”

“She knew what she signed up for. So do I, and I’m not here to kill defenseless boys.”

Ferrin’s eyes darted to the Skal on Orla’s belt, and her and I both tensed as we prepared for him to lunge. But then his shoulders fell, and he ran a hand over his tired face.

“I can’t fault you for being Bryony’s daughter. Grab your pack, Orla. We aren’t coming back.”

He stepped aside to make room for us to pass into the hallway.

“The Grimguard is lucky I don’t have time to fight you both, but if he pursues us, I’ll make him wish he had died tonight.”

Orla slung her rucksack over her shoulders and filed out past Ferrin, but I stayed put and pointed to the hall.

“After you,” I said.

“You may be useful, but you’re also a nuisance,”

Ferrin snapped, but he obeyed and moved towards the door.

“And change your clothes. You’ll stick out like a ramstag in a skallery if you go out in that.”

Ferrin led the way out of the room, and I shook out my shoulders, focusing on shifting my clothes back to the leather armor and cloak Galahad had originally summoned me in.

“A ramstag?”

I looked to Orla for explanation.

“Keldori doesn’t have ramstags?”

“I don’t think so.”

I glanced back at the Grimguard as I closed the door behind me. Hopefully he lived, and hopefully I’d never know it since my goal was to never see him again.

“Orla, get the others. Tell them we’re leaving.”

Ferrin had been the nice one. Gentler than Galahad, kinder than Tiernan, but I’d disappointed him. While I stood by my actions, I couldn’t help the guilt that rose in my chest.

“I’m—”

“I used to be like you.”

He didn’t sound angry, but I still felt like I was in trouble.

“Maybe I still am, since I’m leaving the Grimguard alive when we both know he’d kill us all without hesitation, but if you wrap my niece up in something like this ever again, I’ll feed you to a rotsbane.”

“She’s more capable than any of you give her credit for.”

“I love Orla like she’s my own daughter, but she wasn’t made for Riftkeeping.”

Ferrin pinched the bridge of his nose.

“My sister never wanted this life for her.”

“She can make her own decisions,”

I asserted.

“She helped save a life tonight.”

“And it remains to be seen if that’s a good thing or not.”

Ferrin turned to watch Orla harass Tiernan outside of Fana’s room.

“I like you, Just-Wren. So does my niece. Please don’t ruin that. I’d hate to have to hurt you.”

The cobbled streets of Vanderfall had thinned out, but it was still busy enough that no one looked twice as we moved as a group between lamps and bridges. Most of the shops had closed up, and the remaining crowds congregated around the few taverns and eateries that remained open.

The night air was cool, but the fresh Skal swirling in my belly warmed me from the inside out. We’d disposed of the evidence of our thievery by drinking all the Skal we’d stolen, and while its magick heated my veins, Orla shivered in the nighttime chill without her cloak. Luckily, Tiernan didn’t seem to care enough to ask about its whereabouts and walked with a protective arm around Fana’s thin shoulders. The hem of her robes had soaked several inches deep after being dragged through puddles.

Ferrin paused ahead of a brightly lit intersection and turned around to face us with a grim expression.

“From here on, I’ll do the talking. Stay close to Fana. Touch nothing. And remember, Wren. No one can know you’re a lucid Nightmare. If anyone asks, you’re a Quillguard like Orla and me. Even if they do find out you’re a Nightmare, do not tell anyone your full name.”

“My name? Why?”

“Names give control. It’s how Galahad is able to drag you back here every night.”

“Wouldn’t it be safer to send the Nightmare home?”

Tiernan asked.

“If the Baron finds out she’s lucid, we’re all dead.”

“But who will you blow up if Wren isn’t here?”

Orla shot back.

“I’ll make do.”

Tiernan’s yellow eyes glinted dangerously under his hood.

“The Nightmare stays,”

Ferrin said.

“She’ll be useful if things do go sideways. Now stay close, and for the love of the Three Magicians, behave.”

He strode around the corner, and Tiernan shot me a dirty look as he followed.

My irritation with Tiernan dissipated as we turned. The street was wider here, offering a clear view of the mansion that sat on the hill at the center of the city. The monument looked more like a steam plant than a mansion, and it towered over the surrounding buildings. Pipes and plumes broke up copper walls that reflected the dusky blue glow of cascading Skal. The arching windows of the mansion glowed a burnt red, and the moat that segregated the building from the rest of the city mirrored the color. Steam hissed from pipes and vents, giving the illusion that the Grand Baron’s mansion was alive.

“Where’d they get all that Skal?”

I hissed, watching the liquid pour from the sides of the edifice.

“There are seven known major Skalsprings across Skalterra,”

Ferrin explained without looking back.

“Each one is owned and protected by one of the Seven Provinces. The locations of six of those springs are kept secret by those who protect them. Only the Grand Barony was bold enough to set their capital building right on top of theirs.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Because no one is dumb enough to steal from the Grand Barony,”

Tiernan grunted.

“Except you, apparently.”

The stolen Skal churned in my stomach as the mansion loomed overhead, and Ferrin stopped at the edge of the moat. Across the water, a guard in a window nodded, and steam hissed as metal creaked. The mansion wall directly ahead unlatched from the side of the building. Gears cranked, chains clanged, and Skal whistled as the drawbridge lowered to greet us.

The cobblestone underfoot quaked with the weight of the bridge slamming against the road. Ferrin strode forward, and Tiernan rushed to be the first to follow him, still holding Fana at his side. Their footsteps echoed against the metal walkway.

“Come on, Quillguard.”

Orla winked at me as she used my new alias.

“This makes us pretend cousins, doesn’t it?”

“Only if you don’t announce it to the entire Barony, my niece,”

Ferrin murmured under his breath before flashing an assured grin at the blank-faced guards who watched us from the overhead walkway.

“Nightmares?”

I gave a half-skip to catch up to Ferrin.

“Probably. The Baron’s known to employ a mix.”

He put a reassuring hand between my shoulders and guided me into the entry hall of the Baron’s mansion.

“And there will be plenty more.”

Skal cascaded down the walls on either side of us, sounding more like falling sand than water. The slippery hiss echoed through the high-ceilinged chamber, and gears groaned as the drawbridge returned into its raised position. It grated into place, leaving us in the dim blue light of the falling Skal. The only way was forward, up steep steps of stone that led to open doors.

“Quillguard,”

I practiced in a whisper.

“And I’m from the Second Sentinel.”

“Good work,”

Ferrin said.

“but most people don’t go around mumbling their titles and hometowns under their breath.”

“Most people aren’t constructs of dirt and magic.”

Even if there had been guards in the hall, they would have struggled to hear me over the echo of the waterfalling Skal.

“Everybody ready?”

Ferrin stopped at the top step, and Orla and Tiernan snapped into position on either side of Fana.

“Guard our backs, Wren.”

I fell back past the others. Fana’s brown eyes were wide under her hood, and I gave her a reassuring smile. Ferrin surveyed us over his shoulder, gulped, and led the way into the grand chamber.

A single waterfall of Skal rushed down the far wall like a curtain before slipping down the steps of a raised dais in streams and collecting in glowing basins that lined the throne room.

An.

“throne room”

was the best descriptor I could come up with. At the top of the dais, in front of the waterfall, a woman sat in a massive chair made of elaborately twisted metal. Leather trousers hugged every curve of her legs and hips, which were made to look even curvier by the black corset that cinched her waist. She shook back the wide sleeves of her white blouse so she could better pin back her long ringlets of bright red hair.

Her efforts did little to hold the curls, and most of them sprung back into place around the goggles atop her head, but she didn’t seem to notice as she stood up from the throne to survey us through the monocle that sat wedged between her brow and cheek.

“I was getting nervous for your friend, Ferrin.”

Her voice rang out despite the hissing of the falling Skal behind her.

“I thought maybe you’d thought better of your efforts here and turned tail.”

“I’d never do you the disservice of leaving Galahad in your care.”

Ferrin may have had his back to me, but I could tell by his tone that he was flashing the woman a grin.

I’d been too busy staring at the woman and her throne room to notice Galahad seated on the bottom step of the dais. A mammoth of a man stood over him, keeping him seated with a large hand planted firmly on top of Galahad’s head. The man’s muscles strained against leather armor, and dark tattoos stood out down one arm. He ruffled Galahad’s silver hair when he caught me staring, and Galahad scowled.

The woman signaled for Ferrin to step aside, and he obeyed with the slightest hint of a hesitation. Fana hunched her shoulders under the woman’s ice-blue stare.

“Fana, the Divine Sovereign Fireld,”

Ferrin said.

“meet Tamora Alarbus, Baron of the Grand Barony.”

“And she’s the last one?”

Tamora’s lips pulled into a half-smile, and she adjusted her monocle. The high heels of her black leather boots clicked against each slate step of the dais as she descended. Up close, I could see the smattering of freckles that splashed across her flawless porcelain skin.

“The last Sovereign,”

Ferrin confirmed.

“Who else knows?”

Tamora pulled back Fana’s hood to beam down at her.

“The Riftkeepers you see in this room, our families, and the few who hunt us.”

Tamora drew away.

“You’re telling me that the integrity of the Seven Provinces rests on this child and no one outside your little cult knows?”

She placed a hand on her chest in faux-scandalization.

“Ferrin, my pet, you flatter me letting me in on this little secret, but I fail to see why I should part with my hard-earned Skal and resources to help you, especially with rotsbane attacks on the rise. I had four steamcarts worth of export sucked into oblivion just this week alone. I don’t have the supply left to be handing out charity.”

“Skalterra is on the brink of—”

“Collapse?”

Tamora’s red curls flew as she twirled to cut Ferrin off.

“I don’t give a ramstag’s hide about Skalterra, Ferrin. I care about Skal, something you are asking me to part from and something that Keldori is teeming with. Why shouldn’t I kill the Sovereign and open the door to the other side myself?”

She spun again, this time towards Fana, and pulled her goggles into place over her monocle as she did. A scimitar of red extended from her grip until the tip of it balanced inches from Fana’s nose.

A golden rapier erupted from Tiernan’s hand, the handle guard wrapping up his wrist and arm. He batted away Tamora’s curved blade and stepped between her and Fana.

“You will not threaten the Divine Sovereign,”

he growled.

“You come here asking for aid and would raise a weapon to me in my own home?”

Tamora swung her sword to rest it on her shoulder as she surveyed Tiernan with a tilted head.

“You who claimed to have no Skal? What wicked trick is this, Ferrin?”

“It’s not a trick.”

Ferrin put his hands up in surrender.

“Please, we are trained to protect the Sovereign, and Tiernan must have some residual Skal left in his system. He’s young. You can’t—”

“I can’t what?”

Tamora hissed.

“Can’t expect my guests to treat me with respect in my own home?”

“No, you—”

“Can’t demand honesty from those who would ask me to part with my hard-earned resources?”

“No—”

“Can’t kill the Sovereign here and now?”

Tamora’s round face split into a grin.

“Release the Frozen God myself and give us all unfettered access to Keldori and its Skal?”

A second scimitar appeared in her free hand, but her smile slipped at the sound of Galahad laughing from where he sat on the dais step. It was a labored chuckle, and I noticed the sheen of sweat on his forehead for the first time.

“The Lyrian thinks something is funny?”

Tamora mused. She kept her Skal-swords pointed at Tiernan but turned her goggled gaze to Galahad.

“I thought you’d have the business acumen of your old man, but I guess that didn’t pass down quite as easily as his hair color,”

Galahad rasped.

“Or maybe you’re still too young?”

Tamora’s cheeks tinged red.

“I’m flattered you think me young, though we must all seem like such children to someone old enough to remember Tulyr before its fall. Alas, your seniority does not give you the right to speak to me so callously. Titus, put him with the others.”

The gargantuan man dragged Galahad forward, and shoved him towards Tiernan. Tiernan let his sword dissipate before he accidentally skewered Galahad on its point, and Orla helped to steady the old man.

“If you kill the Divine Sovereign, you’ll release Saergrim from his prison!”

Ferrin shouted.

“Not even you are foolish enough to think you would stand a chance against the Frozen God.”

“The Frozen God is just a man, despite what his nickname suggests. And I fear no man, Quillguard.”

Tamora turned away to climb the dais back to her throne. Her swords evaporated as she fell back into the seat of twisted bronze, and she blew a loose curl away from her goggles.

“The audacity of you and your cult of Riftkeepers is to be admired. Genuinely, I do mean that. But I’m bored of Skalterra, I’m tired of rotsbane sucking my exports dry, and I’m done with this conversation. This next chapter will be fun. I’m sorry you won’t be here to see it.”

Tamora raised both hands in front of her, and I automatically looked to the floor. I’d seen enough movies to be wary of secret trapdoors. However, Ferrin’s shouted warning brought my attention snapping back upwards.

The waterfall behind Tamora glowed red, and an armored figure stepped out from the cascading liquid. A scimitar like Tamora’s lengthened in his hand, and he regarded us with blank eyes as he stepped down the dais towards us.

“Stop playing,”

Ferrin hissed.

“You know a Nightmare isn’t going to stop us.”

But then another Nightmare stepped from the curtain of Skal on Tamora’s other side. And another. The streams that ran along the perimeter of the room glowed too, and Skal ran off the shoulders of Nightmares rising from the basins.

“Kill them all.”

Tamora settled back into her throne and crossed one leg over the other.

“Tonight, Skalterra is freed from the prison the Four Magicians locked us in.”

Green flashed in Orla’s hands as she procured a sword and shield. Ferrin grimaced and followed suit.

“Where the hell did you all get Skal?”

Galahad growled. He leaned heavily on Orla, unable to stand on his own, and I wondered what Tamora had done to him to make him look so ill.

A silver flail formed in my hand, and I forced myself to turn away from Tamora on her throne so I could protect us from the back.

“I found the Skal.”

I kept my eyes on the Nightmares marching closer.

“I helped,”

Orla admitted somewhere behind me. If I died here, I would wake up back at home, but there was no telling what sort of new world I would be waking to if Fana died with me, if the monsters of this world could make their way into mine.

“Ah, so you were the thieves my guardsman caught siphoning Skal from the city’s supply,”

Tamora sang.

“You what?”

Galahad fumed.

“I thought he had to have been mistaken when he mentioned blue hair,”

Tamora said, and I blushed.

“But here you are, armed with the very Skal you stole. No matter. Justice will be swift. Nightmares, kill the girls first.”

She lowered her hand, and the blank-faced Nightmares descended as one.