Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Eric opened the door to his home as quietly as he could. It wasn’t as though he were trying to avoid being noticed or escape being detected by any of the members of the household. In fact, he’d welcome a conversation by one of the few staff that maintained the hall. He enjoyed talking with the people he employed, more out of concern for their own well-being than because it held some kind of novel for him. He still opposed the idea of having servants to tend his house. But sometime in the last year, Emma had convinced him. Their new home was getting too tiring to maintain on their own.

At least, he thought, they were well paid. When he’d interviewed the men and women who’d come to take up the job, he’d asked what the average wage of someone in their position was and promptly paid them almost double what was expected. They’d been pleasantly surprised. Not that their previous jobs had been miserable, of course. Even nobles and Royals weren’t immune to scrutiny. But more money was always nice.

Only one of them was visible in the entry hall when he slipped through the door. It was Ferris, the one he’d hired to help Emma with baby Emily while he was away on a mission. The man was a Marked One, appeared to be in his late thirties, and was strong. He was a former soldier, and his fighting skills were one of the reasons that Eric had hired him. He’d been tested to make sure that he could protect the family if need be, and Eric provided the man with opportunities to further train and improve himself, should he want.

“Good evening, Ferris,” He said in a friendly tone. “I trust you’ve been well?”

“As well as can be expected, sir,” Ferris replied. “Lady Emily has come down with the flue, sir. She rests in her room for now, as does the lady Breeden.”

Eric frowned thoughtfully at that pronouncement. “The flu, you say? Has she been given medicine?”

It was not in Ferris’ nature to lie or twist the facts to make them appear different. He was as direct as he could be without causing offense. “Lady Breeden has given her herbal preparations. None have succeeded in bringing her fever down.”

Eric’s frown deepened further. “None of her medicine is working?”

“I’m sure it is merely a tough run,” Ferris said reassuringly. “I am sure that her fever will break soon, and she will be on the mend, a happy little girl once more.”

Ferris’ deep voice was comforting, and though it didn’t allay his concerns entirely, Eric allowed himself a single deep breath. He was assured by Ferris’ refusal to sugarcoat the facts. Perhaps the man was right. Besides, he didn’t want to disturb his daughter’s rest if she was suck. “All the same, send for a healer from the temple.”

He didn’t have to specify that he meant a healer of Shigeru. Ferris nodded. “At once, sir.”

Eric watched the man walk out the door right away as promised, knowing that he wouldn’t waste any time in completing the task. He was efficient. He was also the only help that Eric had hired who accepted his refusal to be addressed as a lord. He kept it to the simple ‘sir’. A degree of respect, but familiar enough that it didn’t feel awkward. The same couldn’t be said for the two others. As if this thought had summoned them, he turned at the sound of a footstep and saw Monica Durmeau standing beside the door to the kitchen.

“Good evening, Master Breeden,” she said, offering him a polite curtsy. He resisted the urge to sigh in exasperation.

“Good evening, Monica,” he said. “I hope my wife hasn’t put too much work on you.”

“Not at all, my lord,” she said, curtsying again. He hoped this wouldn’t last long. “Are you retiring to your study? Shall I bring you some coffee for your reading?”

After the chaotic events following the fight against Attos and his own promotion to the rank of Master, Eric had decided that, since he wanted to stay in Ahya, he should learn as much about it as possible. Samuel had agreed with this and helped him find many books on the histories of the world. It was easy for him to do, Eric had found with ironic humor because he’d written most of them. It had been an amusing interchange. ‘Oh, this one’s a good one. It talks about the mana lakes of Zaban’ or his favorite ‘Eh, don’t read that one. I was particularly uninspired, and it’s just public knowledge about Welsik’. He’d been interested to read the book about Welsik most, which had turned out to be particularly boring.

The thought of those early days, nearly four years ago now, and the realization of how much knowledge Samuel had given him, gave him another idea. “No, thank you, Monica. I’ll just retire to my bed for the night. I’ve been away a few days and would like some rest.”

“Of course, my lord.”

 

-

 

The next morning, Eric could tell at once that something wasn’t right. There were no shouts of concern, or the familiar raised voices of men about to fight that he could hear. No, there was a vaguely heavy feel to the air that registered itself upon his senses the instant he came to. It was as if the universe had been longing to scream at him in panic but without a voice, could only loom over him, waiting for him to wake up.

Emma wasn’t in the bed beside him, he noticed. Not that that was an oddity in its own right. He had the habit of sleeping in on his days off, but his wife was a busy sort, always liking to rise long before the sun, busy before most even roused themselves enough to have their breakfasts. But, glancing outside the window, he saw that the sun hadn’t even risen yet. There was something odd in that, he thought. Perhaps the vague feeling of unwell had shaken him subconsciously, making him wake up early as well. Still, he was up now, so he may as well investigate.

“Ferris,” he said, in faint surprise, for the man was standing on the other side of the door, fist raised to knock when he opened it. Immediately, the feeling that something was wrong deepened. “Where’s my wife and daughter? Why aren’t you with them?”

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“I was bid to come to find you straight away, sir,” he said. “Your family has been sent to the palace for safety. Lord Bragg is tending to your daughter.”

“What’s wrong with her?” The tension of the moment and the instinctual plunge of fear his stomach took made his voice harsher than intended. He reached out and grabbed a fistful of Ferris’ shirt. “Tell me!”

Ferris took no offense to the rough movement nor the tone of voice. He slowly and patiently pulled Eric’s hand free of his clothing. “Come with me, sir. I will explain on the way.”

He turned on his heel and moved without another word. Bewildered and nervous, his heart hammering faster, Eric followed. It didn’t occur to him that, dressed in his nightrobe, he was as far from appropriate public clothing as it was possible to be. Even if it had, he wouldn’t care. He kept close to Ferris as the older man led him straight down the stairs to the first floor, through the entry hall, and out into the courtyard of the large home. Two mounts were waiting for them outside. Stravians, he thought. Before he could ask a question, Ferris was helping the creatures shift, adjusting their saddles.

It was so urgent they had to fly over the city, Eric thought. He climbed onto the first Stravian’s back, noting the green freckles that were dotted across its body. It was Spackles, his wife’s personal steed. The dark creature craned its long reptilian neck and licked at his hand, giving him a welcoming sort of growl. Eric gave the creature a quick pat before strapping his legs down and leaning forward. Ferris, an accomplished rider, had already mounted and prepared to take off. He didn’t need to strap his legs down to retain his seat.

“Up!” The Marked One barked. At once, the Stravians leaped into the sky, their wide, leathery wings beating at the air. They shot away from the ground like rockets, and in the blink of an eye, they’d reached the edge of the Noble District. Eric took the chance to glance around at the city below them. Somehow, his taught nerves led him to expect smoke and flames, the unmistakable signs of chaos. But as far as he could tell, the city seemed the same as it always had been.

“We’re coming down now, sir!” Ferris said what felt like seconds later. Spackles followed the first Stravian’s lead, tucking in its wings and diving straight down at the cobbles of the palace courtyard below them. There were shouts of surprise at their sudden arrival, and many men began to move to intercept them. But before they could, another figure was rushing out of the palace doors, shouting at them to stand down. Eric recognized the man at once as Michael, Rachel’s boyfriend and a Lieutenant in the Royal Guard.

“Michael!” He shouted his words jolted by the Stravian’s uneven landing on the rough ground. He ripped his legs free of the leather straps and jumped off to run the rest of the distance. “What has become of my wife?”

“She’s fine,” Michael said at once, only sparing half a nod at Ferris. Eric’s guard was already moving again. He hadn’t dismounted from his Stravian, and took to the sky once more. Spackles followed. “Come with me. There’s a problem.”

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Eric insisted. The heavy air persisted here, as well. “What’s happening in the city today?”

“There was a break-in at one of the druidic sealing sites,” Michael reported, even as he and Eric began to run. “We don’t know much just yet. Longfang himself is here, as is lord Bragg.”

Longfang? Eric knew the name after being in Ahya so long, of course. It was the unofficial title for Grimr Longfang, the God of Nature. One of the strongest Ancients to exist in the world. If he was involved, it had to be a major affair. Eric quickened his pace. Even with this limited information, he knew where he was expected now and didn’t have to wait to be led. He practically sprinted to the throne room and through it to the war council chambers behind it.

“Eric!” Samuel was there, his face paler than usual. “Why are you not dressed for battle? We might be under attack soon!”

That news, surprisingly, didn’t disturb him. The idea of battle was second to his concern for his family. “Did you know of my daughter’s sickness?”

“I do,” Samuel confirmed, waving a hand. “It was nothing I couldn’t handle. She’s fine and resting. But you’re needed.”

He heaved a sigh; the relief that washed through him was nearly powerful enough to knock him to his knees. “Thank you for that. Tell me, what was stolen?”

He was paying attention properly now and could see how disturbed Samuel was. It had to be something big if he was this concerned. “How much do you know of the organization that calls itself The Laughing Lich?”

The name meant nothing to Eric, and he said as much. “No clue who they are. Are they the cause of this?”

“Yes,” Samuel said shortly. “Their members broke the seal of a druidic site near Jyrok. We still don’t know how, but we have to work quickly to reverse it.”

“What was stolen?”

“Not so much a what,” said a deep, gravelly voice to his left. Turning, Eric saw what looked like a young boy dressed in druidic clothing. Grimr Longfang, he realized. The God of Nature in the flesh. “It was more of a who.”

He didn’t know the God of Nature nearly as well as Samuel, so he wasn’t used to the array of emotions he’d normally assume. But even he, with his limited people skills, could tell he was concerned as well. “Who was taken?”

“The corpse of an Ancient,” Longfang explained. “By the name of Menikos.”