Smoke and Iron

Chapter 6-Secrets in the Dark

Morning arrives in the city bringing with it the sound of it waking from its deep slumber. The hammer of the blacksmith, weak sunlight shining through the window, and the smell of rekindle fires announces its arrival. An arrival that has come far too fast for my liking. 

With the sun glaring across my face I sit up and rub my tired eyes. A dull pain begins to beat against my skull. A pain that will only get worse as the day wears on. Reluctantly I haul myself out of my warm bed. Setting my feet on the floor I stand up on shaking legs. A sudden bolt of pain sends me clutching the nightstand for support. 

Damn, maybe drinking three mugs of ale while angry wasn't the best decision. Thankfully I have something to ward off the worst of it.

Bracing myself against another bout of pain I slowly make my way to the chest at the foot of my bed. Opening it I push aside clothes, boots, and weapons as I make my to the bottom. When I reach it I grab hold of the small oak box buried underneath my things. 

Taking it out I sit down crossing my legs and place the box on them. I open the box revealing an assortment of small glass vials in different colors and labeled with paper tags tied around their corks. All of them are filled with medicinal herbal remedies made from the different plants that grow across the many lands of Silva. Collected and brewed by the Kumandians in the Red City. They are highly sought after for curing the many illnesses that one could have. Every bottle worth its weight in silver, lucky for me a Reaper earns a hefty wage.

Carefully sifting through them I pick a red vial from the box. Laying the box on the floor I read the label to make sure it's the right one. Willow bark extract is written on the rough paper in black ink. Sighing in relief I uncork the vial and take three small sips of the liquid. The woody taste filling my mouth as it travels down my sore throat. 

Corking the vial I place it back in its wooden case. Closing the lid I set the box back in my trunk. With that taken care of I grab some clothes and head to the washstand. After splashing the ice cold water on my face I throw on a pair of black pants and a gray shirt. Stopping to make sure my injured arm is still bandaged before I put on the shirt.

Just as I start to pull my boots on a knock sounds at the door. Glancing across the room to Ren's still sleeping form I finish tugging my feet into the leather shoes. Walking across the floor I open the door a c***k. Outside is the last person I expect to be at my door. I quietly open the door lest its creaking hinges wake up Ren. Another headache waiting to happen. 

Talber walks into the room wearing the fine wool and silk clothes of a lord in the king's court. Clothes that he usually doesn't wear favoring the full silver suit as Captain of the Silver Guard. He must have been summoned to the castle. A summons I fear that does not bode well for him.

He turns to face me while I shut the door. His eyes take in my bedraggled appearance. No doubt my hair is a mess and I probably have dark circles under my eyes. 

"Seems you had an eventful night," Talber says.

I huff a laugh, "eventful doesn't even begin to cover it my lord."

"I assume it was not of your doing then," he drawls.

"Not in the least," I reply, "so what brings you here my lord."

Talber heaves a sigh, wiping his hand across his face.

"The king has summoned me to speak about the hunt for the Ghost," he says.

My hand goes to my pendant, my fingers slowly rub against the metal. A nervous habit that I can't seem to break. Anyone summoned by the king can expect a great reward or the hangman's noose.

"Why are you telling me this," I say. 

The cold feeling of dread already making its way into my bones. In anticipation of his next words that I know will not bring good luck for me.

 "I am not the only one he has summoned", he says, his voice resigned and almost sad.

"The king has ordered me to bring him the man who will find this interloper."

"Which just so happens to be me," I say.

He nods solemnly, he heads to my bed and pulls off my cloak on the hook beside the headboard. He tosses it to me and I catch it with one hand.

"Yes it happens to be you," he replies, "now hurry and get yourself ready we will be leaving shortly."

Talber walks past me and opens the door so quickly that I barely avoid being hit by it. Running a hand through my hair I let out an exasperated sigh. Wonderful not only will I be dealing with a painful hangover but also having to go to the one place that I dread the most. I head to my trunk and hurriedly throw on a black wool overcoat over my shirt. 

Grabbing my weapons belt I put it around my waist making sure that only my sword will be visible. As an extra bit of caution I take one of the many balck masks that lay in the trunk. After securing it to my face, making sure the string is tied correctly I put on my long cloak. Pulling the hood over my face and then securing a pair of dark leather gloves on my hands, I am finally ready. 

Heading out of the room I head down the two flights of stairs to the main doors of the building. I take one last look of the main area with hard oak floors, dark leather chairs, and its white ceiling depicting two great armies as they battle each other to the death. 

Bare and gnarled trees surround the battlefield. A field filled with the bodies of the dead and dying. The ground spotted with dirt and blood. Above the fighting soldiers and blazing cannons is a great swarm of crows and ravens. Their black feathered bodies formed into a large cloak. A cloak enveloping a masked pale skeletal figure holding a silver scythe. His name, which strikes fear into the hearts of many, one who's power that no one dares to question. The Raven King, god of Death and War, patron god of assassins.

Silently I reach inside my coat pocket for one of the black feathers that all who worship him have in their possession. Next to the fireplace on my left is a small altar where prayers are given. I head to it and place the feather gently on the strip of black wool that lays on it. Lighting a match I set the feather alight the orange flames sparking and then turning black. 

Eyes closed I pray for the strength that I will need very soon. Strength to keep me from the anger that will boil over into rage. Opening my eyes I blow onto the burning feather, my breath guttering the flame and turning the feather into ash.  As always the altar and the wool remain unmarked. The only sign of something having been burnt is the pile of feathery ashes on the wool cloth. 

I force my legs to move and head out the door. Weak sunshine meets my eyes as I step outside. The sky overhead filled with dark grey clouds. The sound of horses drags my gaze away from the ominous weather. 

A simple gray coach manned by a driver in silver livery and pulled by two black horses lay waiting. Lord Talber in a gray wool cloak stands beside the carriage and motions for me to come. As I make my way towards the coach he opens the door and steps inside. Following him in I close the door behind me and take the seat opposite him. Putting his hand out the window Talber signals for the driver to go. 

With the snap of reins we are off. Off to the palace filled with lying, scheming nobles. A place where your every step is watched closely by spies that go through rooms like ghosts. A place that drove me to escape it every chance I got. 

Every person inside bowing to the will of King Renard Valon. A man whose army now grows by the day and who has sent any who possesses even a spark of magic into forced servitude. A man who I despise with all my heart. 

As the coach heads past the gate and into the Gold Quarter, I prepare myself for this dreaded meeting. A meeting where I will be forced to stand in the same room as him. Looking at his greedy power hungry face. The face of my father. The thought heats my growing anger and hardens my heart.

The rest of the ride passes in a blur. The scenery outside changes from the brightly colored manors and emerald lawns of the nobility. To the gray stone and cold iron of the palace gates. Out the window I see their curling iron bars as we draw closer to the formidable palace walls. 

The stationed guards wave us through without a word after seeing Talber's family crest emblazoned on the coach door. Others however are pulled aside and into a line to be inspected by the guards. Checking carts and wagons heaped with produce,baskets of cloth, and other fine goods. Making sure no one will be able to sneak through the gates by hiding amongst the many barrels and baskets heaped inside the supply wagons.

The coach makes its way down the graveled drive. Through the finely manicured gardens of dark green hedges and granite fountains. Fountains depicting sea serpents, mermaids, and other mythical beings, spewing water into the dark granite pools below them. The coach winds around a large iron statue of a wolf. Posed with its front legs on top of a mountain cliff. Its back legs supporting itself against it, a mighty head raised in a howl towards the sky. 

We come to a stop in front of the palace. A group of courtiers dressed in colors resembling the feathers of exotic birds are already heading through the tall gray doors leading inside.

Standing up from my seat I open the door and hold it tightly as Talber exits the coach. After closing the door with a heavy thunk, the driver flicks the reins, taking the coach to the carriage house on the other side of the palace. We make our way to the doors and I can't help but stare upward at the palace's domineering form. 

Made of solid black stone and marble it rises above the ground. With its six floors and spiraling towers it looms over the manors and wall. Only the factory smoke stacks are taller than it. Its many windows  embedded with stained glass forming grotesque patterns in colors of red, gold, and black. Hundreds of  strands of ivy and moss cling to the massive structure. As if many small tendrils of vines are wrapping themselves around a giant black thorn.