Shadows Over Kaighal

Chapter 1-2

The maid refilled his mug, but no amount of wine could ease Ryell’s pain and erase the memory of Kamira’s body encased within the crystal. With her eyes closed, the arcanist looked like she was only sleeping, and Yoreus insisted she was still alive, but Ryell couldn’t bring himself to believe the archmage’s words, not anymore. They killed her, and I’m to blame for it.

“Leave the whole jug,” he said. At least he could hope that enough wine would bring dreamless sleep, allowing him to escape the consequences of his own actions.

The voice of reason told him that if he wanted to drink, he should have found a cheaper place than the Jagged Swordsman, but he had to talk to Veelk. No matter what Ryell thought of the mage killer, Kamira’s friend deserved to know what happened. An ugly smile crept up on Ryell’s lips when he thought that Veelk would likely take it personally and seek revenge. Perhaps he and Yoreus would end up killing each other, freeing the world of the two men who’d brought demise upon Kamira. One by not letting her seek the mage’s counsel soon enough so the archmages had time to find another solution, the other by not even trying to help her. Besides, the mood of the Jagged Swordsman, with grim undertones and somberness hanging in the air, matched his own. Any port tavern would have too many cheerful people who would grate on Ryell’s composure.

He downed another mug of wine, curling his other hand into a fist.

The maid’s gasp made him look up. She was already running to the kitchen, calling out Opyr’s name as Ryell looked at the entrance. Lefna walked in, helping a wounded man. A patron rushed to their side, relieving her of the burden and leading the man to the table while Opyr clutched his daughter in a tight embrace. Despite his own suffering, Ryell couldn’t help smiling at the reunion full of tears and heartfelt whispers.

Opyr, with his arm still around his daughter, approached the wounded stranger. “Forgive for not believing your words. You’ve saved my daughter, just like you promised. Do you need someone to look at your wound?”

The man shook his head. “It’s fine now. It just needs time to heal.” He looked around. “I’d have thought someone would already let Veelk know.”

The joyful expression faded from the innkeeper’s face. “Master Veelk left four days ago, in a great rush. He took a lot of supplies and said he won’t be back for a week or two.”

“And Kamira?”

Ryell twitched at someone speaking her name. Of course, it made sense that if the man knew Veelk, he must have been acquainted with her as well, but a particular note in the stranger’s voice struck at Ryell’s jealousy.

“I haven’t seen her since two days ago.” Opyr spread his hands. “She didn’t mention when she’d be back.”

“She’s at the High Towers, and she won’t be back,” Ryell said before his common sense advised him otherwise. Besides, that man seemed to know them both well enough, and perhaps was less secretive than Kamira herself and that wretched mage killer, so Ryell could gain some insights. Not that it made a difference anymore, but alone in his grief, he wanted anything that could ease the guilt or make him forget.

The man evaluated him with an inquisitive gaze, and subtle shifts in his expression suggested he was putting pieces of knowledge together. His moves stiff, he lifted from his table and walked over to Ryell’s but waited for the invitation to sit down. Having enough time for second thoughts, Ryell would much rather send the stranger away, because talking meant revealing his own role in the events and Kamira’s demise. Yet he was the one to have spoken first, and he couldn’t back out.

Resigned, Ryell pointed to the chair in front of him.

The man sat down, his caution and slowness compensating for the injury, but he still carried himself like a man who knew how to fight. Ryell remembered Opyr mentioning a mercenary group that failed to rescue Lefna, and Ryell’s respect for the stranger grew. Of course, there might have been less fighting, and more sneaking in and out, but even such a task required agility and skill. And the stranger’s wound suggested he had to fight his way out anyway.

“You must be Ryell,” the man said after the maid left food and drink at the table. “Kamira mentioned you.”

That remark stung more than Ryell expected, and he grimaced. “I don’t think she mentioned you.” The way the stranger spoke about her indicated they were more than passing acquaintances. Ryell inspected the man’s wiry muscles and brown skin. Was he one of Veelk’s brethren? His outfit resembled more the local fashion than tribal attire.

“We’ve only met recently, so she might have had no chance. I’m Koshmarnyk.” The man stretched his hand in a greeting. “So, Kamira went to the Towers?”

Ryell stared at Koshmarnyk’s wrist and the crystal bracelet coiled around it. “She did,” he replied after a long pause and finally shook the man’s hand. “I thought she was attached to those.” He pointed at the jewelry. “I’ve rarely seen her taking them off.”

Koshmarnyk nodded. “She… insisted I take them. I think she hoped they’d bring me luck.”

Ryell swallowed a ball of bile forming in his throat. Whoever Koshmarnyk was, it seemed that Kamira trusted him with her most personal possessions. Ryell drank from the mug, ready to walk away with any excuse, but his own curiosity was pushing him to stay. There might be an explanation to his relation to Kamira. “Are you Veelk’s friend?” He forced his tone to remain polite. “Is that how you met?”

“Indeed I am. Kamira was in need of my skills, and Veelk got us acquainted.” Koshmarnyk’s lips curled in a half-smile. “But that’s a story she probably should tell you herself if she chooses so.”

From Koshmarnyk’s choice of words, Ryell had no doubt that there were secrets involved, and his anger boiled within. Kamira had promised him answers, and the longer he looked at the man she had supposedly met only recently, who was speaking so casually about her and wearing her precious bracelets, Ryell couldn’t help wondering what else she’d conveniently forgotten to mention. He was a fool for not having asked more questions and not pressing her more, but the circumstances were hardly suitable for lengthy discussions. Or Kamira simply had led Ryell to believe so.

“I don’t think Kamira will be telling a*********s… ever again.” He let bitterness echo within the words. Anything to wipe the smile off Koshmarnyk’s face. Anything to disrupt the connection that man had with her. “The archmages encased her in a crystal.”

Pain or shock didn’t appear on Koshmarnyk’s face like Ryell had expected. Instead, the wiry man snorted. “So that’s why she didn’t tell us anything about her plan,” he said. “She’s worse than her demon.” He shook his head.

“You don’t seem upset by her death,” Ryell prompted.

The man in front of him shifted, stretching into what must be a more comfortable position, as if the only thing bothering him was his wound. “Do you really think she’d plan everything for months just to die at the end?”

“Plan?”

“She planned for everything, including your betrayal,” Koshmarnyk said without a trace of maliciousness. “If she’s stuck in a crystal now, I think this is exactly where she wanted to be. Though, of course, you or I might question such a choice.”

The mention of betrayal cut deep, and Ryell shook his head, trying to keep emotions off his face. “I’ve been deceived and unknowingly led her into a trap.” His voice came weaker than he liked it, as if it belonged to a defeated man, not to a proud Devanshari and a confident royal guard. “She couldn’t have known what the archmages had prepared.”

That remark resulted only in more amusement. “And the archmages couldn’t have known what she’d planned, could they? I watched her preparations, and if I was to make a bet, I’d put all my money on her. She’s neither defeated nor dead.”

“What makes you so sure?” Ryell spat. With so little emotion Koshmarnyk showed, it was hard to discern whether he truly believed in what he said or simply tried to conceal his shock and grief behind a confident façade. “You admitted yourself that you didn’t know the details of her plan. How can you tell she’s still alive in there?”

A dry laugh shook Koshmarnyk’s body, but he was serious again once he looked down at his wrists. “Because if she was dead, her bracelets wouldn’t have saved my life.”

Ryell stared at him, unable to find words. The claim seemed absurd, but maybe Koshmarnyk meant some sort of magic contained within the jewelry that wouldn’t last after Kamira’s death. Ryell clung to that thought. If she was still alive, he could explain everything to her and make her understand he’d been played by Yoreus as much as she.

Opyr approached the table, but he paid no attention to Ryell, fully focused on the other man. “I’ve prepared the best room in the inn. It’s the least I can do in return for saving my daughter.”

“There’s no need for hassle,” Koshmarnyk replied without the false modesty Ryell had seen so often among the Devanshari noblemen. “I’ll sleep in Kamira’s and Veelk’s room, if you have a spare key.”

The innkeeper nodded and rushed away.

Koshmarnyk stood up from the table, and a flash of pain was the only reminder of his wound. “You can keep lying to yourself that you did it for her.” He was looking straight at Ryell. “But you did it for yourself. If you had accepted the way she is, an arcanist with a good—if grumpy—nature, things could have been different. She would probably tell me there was a Devanshari man waiting for her in Kaighal. Sharing all her secrets and hoping for her to succeed, not trying to change into what he thought was best.”

Ryell gritted his teeth. The words were like a slap, and he had to fight his own body to not run after the man who was allowed into Kamira’s room while she was away. She had never extended such a privilege to Ryell. He took a deep breath, considering what he’d learned. Koshmarnyk claimed Kamira not only stayed alive, but that becoming trapped was a part of her plan. Perhaps Yoreus should know… No. He abandoned the idea when the memory of the archmage’s deception resurfaced. It was time he made his own decisions and kept his knowledge secret.

The coins rang on the table as he threw them between the unfinished food and jug of wine and left. First, he had to know whether Kamira was indeed alive. Then he had to find a way to talk to her.