The Severed Empire Collection

Chapter 9

Mykal opened his eyes. He was on the beach, his face down in the sand. Water lapped at his feet. He jumped to his knees and, on all fours, scurried as far from the sea as he possibly could before dropping back down to the ground on his chest. He coughed water from his lungs. He gagged and choked on its saltiness, and spat it from his mouth. Breathing heavily, he lifted himself onto his forearms.

He was alive. That much he knew.

He wasn’t sure if he was in one piece. One of the creatures had been at his heels.

A young girl stood there, staring at him. He recognized the blond hair, the opal broach.

He closed his eyes. He must be hallucinating.

He tried to sit up, and winced.

His chest and thigh hurt. The dorsal fins had sliced him deeply. He didn’t want an infection.

The young woman he had hoped was a hallucination, did not vanish. She still stood a hundred yards away, staring at him.

She didn’t walk toward him, or run away.

Mykal got to his feet, staggering before catching his balance. Turning around and looking at the sea. Washed up on the sand was a serpent. It easily could have been one that attacked him. It had not been there before he’d been pulled into the sea.

Its scaled flesh looked burnt black, as if it had been roasting on an open fire. It was dead, and cooked. He had no idea what happened to that serpent. He turned and looked at the sea, running his hands over his legs to brush away sand.

andThey’d been real. His wound from the serpents was proof.

When he turned to face the young woman, he realized how out of place she looked. The blue velvet dress was bunched around her feet and covered in dirt and wet sand.

He walked toward her. Part of him expected she’d back away, or float backwards, unreachable, as happens in dreams.

Yet each step brought him closer. Her hands were folded at her belly.

The lone, dark cloud he now remembered seeing through the distorted-glass view below the water had multiplied many times in size and/or spawned others. The near-blackness threatened to occlude the sun. Grandfather was right. Again.

He wasn’t sure what he’d say to the young lady. Did he just introduce himself? Ask if she was lost? Ask why she was here? Or why she might be following him? Did she save him? Or had she witnessed him get nearly eaten by a mammoth sea monster?

She broke the silence. “Are you alright?”

Mykal brushed sand from his pants, and hands. “I will be.”

“Did you do that to that Serpent?” She pointed at the remains behind him.

Mykal looked back at charred carcass. He shook his head. “Wasn’t me. I have no idea what happened to that one. I didn’t even believe they existed. I have been fishing here for years, and have never encountered anything like that. I always thought they were silly bedtime stories. Not anymore. I did tag one with my arrow, though. It was accidental. It pulled me into the water. I thought that was going to be it for me.”

He had been terrified, actually. He did not see a need to share just how afraid he had been, not with her. If anything, he hoped to impress her somehow.

“And you lived.” She sounded surprised.

“Just barely,” he said, maybe twenty yards from her. He stopped walking. “I saw you in the courtyard with the king this morning.”

She nodded.

“Am I in trouble?”

“Have you done something wrong?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” he said.

She shook her head. “I’m not here because you’re in trouble.”

Somewhat relieved, he continued toward her. He moved slowly, each step calculated. He didn’t want to frighten her, though it was her presence that scared him. Her beauty captivated him. Her golden hair, red lips and bright blue eyes mesmerized. Perhaps it was from this that his apprehension stemmed. “I know it sounds presumptuous, but are you following me?”

“Yes,” she said. “It does sound presumptuous. I have no need to follow you, Mykal.”

That stopped him. “You know my name?”

“I didn’t. Until I saw you today. I dreamt of you many times,” she said.

He almost laughed, but bit down on his tongue. “You dreamt of me?”

She blushed. “I didn’t know at the time it was you I was dreaming of.”

She walked toward him, closing the distance until they stood almost toe to toe, and face to face.

“I was drawn to you,” she said. It came out in a whisper.

“I don’t understand.”

She shook her head. “Something I can’t see clearly is coming. I don’t understand any of it, but I know one thing for certain.”

“And what is that?”

“You must stop it.”

YouMykal pointed to himself. This time he let out a snicker. “I raise livestock. I’m a horrible fisherman. What can I stop? You were with the king. Have you told him this? His knights train for battle. Surely they’re more prepared to defend against your premonition. Besides, I’ve never even held a sword.”

“That’s not true,” she said.

It wasn’t true. Blodwyn had been working with him since he was old enough to walk. The man taught him how to fight with a sword, with knives, and with his hands. He’d instructed him to never advertise his skill. It was better leaving people unaware. “Who are you?”

wasn’t “I am the king’s ward. I was promised to him at the time of my birth as a declaration of peace. I was daughter of King Aslom of the Evidanus Realm.”

The Evidanus Realm was gone, attacked by an unknown enemy and burned out of existence nearly ten years ago. No one knew what had happened. It was rumored that riders were sent from the realm in search of allies and reinforcements were never heard from. The kingdom perished alone. Mykal was speaking to the last of the Evidanus people. “Your highness,” he said, kneeling.

“Stand,” she said. “I am no longer royalty. There is no kingdom. No crown to inherit. I am heir to nothing.”

He stood, eyes closed in an attempt at warding off pain shooting up his side.

“You are injured. I can help you,” she said, reaching out a hand.

areHe stopped her, taking her hand in his.

“I’ll live,” he said. “What can you possibly want from me, princess? I still don’t understand.”

“You will call me Karyn. I am no longer a princess,” she said, the bite in her words evident. It contained flavors of both bitterness, and more strongly, sorrow. She barely suppressed her pain. Her lineage wiped out, her family and subjects slaughtered while she lived in the shadows of a foreign kingdom. “I don’t have an answer to your question. Not yet.”

Mykal wondered if she’d ever visited the ruins. “Won’t the king be looking for you?”

She nodded. “There is a feast this evening. There is always a feast after a hanging. I’ll be back long before he realizes my absence.”

Mykal didn’t know anything about feasts. His dinner had already been eaten by the Isthmian Serpent. “I need to be getting home. I have to check on my grandfather.”

“I just needed to meet you.” Her eyes said something different. They sparkled, even in the darkly greying skies. She could have waited, but for whatever unsaid reason, had felt compelled to do so on this day. Was that significant?

He had more questions, and felt he deserved answers. He also just wanted to keep her talking. He didn’t want her to leave. Not yet. It was getting late. A storm was coming. If it was like the night before and reached land this time, it could be brutal.

The road from his house to the kingdom was straightforward, but that didn’t mean it was always safe. He had no idea what the Cicade people were really doing inside Grey Ashland’s borders. More could be about. “Let me stop back to the house and drop off my fishing gear, then I will escort you home.”

“There is no need. Just beyond the dunes I have two armed knights on horseback. They are men I trust with my life, and with this secret.”

“What secret?”

“You.” She sighed. “We will meet again, Mykal. I felt it important for us to meet before then, so when I come to you, you will not be frightened.”

Frightened? The king’s ward knew who he was, and expected him to do … something? Why would he be frightened? Surprised, certainly. Curious, absolutely.

Still wet from the sea, it masked the beads of sweat forming on his brow. How was he considered a secret? Who was the secret from? Who else knew the truth? “When will we meet again?”

The wind picked up loose sand and blew it around.

“I’m not exactly sure, but soon, I suspect.”

Soon, he hoped. “And when you find me the second time, I’m to help you?”

“No. You’ve got it backwards. I’m here to help you. You may be the only one who can save the old empire,” she said, as she turned and walked up the dune, and beyond. Though Mykal could not take his eyes off of her, she had continued on without looking back once.

Wait. Save the old empire?

Wait. Save the old empire?Mykal rushed home, his gear banging against his leg, his wounds throbbing. The loose items inside the tackle box rattled and bounced. He wore his bow on his back, the string across his shoulder. The bleeding on his legs and chest had slowed. The bleeding wouldn’t stop until the wounds had a chance to close. Moving around prevented that. The areas were sore, and gross to see. He wanted to get home fast and fetch fresh water from the well. He worried even a thorough cleaning of his wounds wouldn’t stop an infection.

It appeared his grandfather still sat in his chair on the front porch. As Mykal got closer he realized that it wasn’t his grandfather. He quickened his pace, excited. The man on the front porch wore a tan tunic under a dark green cloak, the hood down. Long, thin black hair hung to just above the center of his chest. His matching facial hair consisted of bushy, overgrown eyebrows, the arms of a mustache that fell past the corners of his chin, and were tied at the ends with little bits of string; the chin hair was also long and thick, and braided.

Blodwyn’s cedar staff shod with iron was six feet long, and leaning against the porch railing. He grabbed it as he got to his feet. “Mykal? You’ve been hurt,” he said.

“It’s nothing. We need to talk,” Mykal said.

Blodwyn furrowed his brow. “Have you been fishing?”

Mykal set down his tackle box, and removed the bow from his back. “If you want to call it that. Listen—”

“We need to clean those wounds. Right away,” Blodwyn said. He spent a moment eyeing every inch of Mykal, searching for additional cuts not clearly visible. He spun Mykal around and lifted the back of his tunic.

“Stop that. I’m okay, I tell you.” Mykal set down his bow by the box. He knew the cuts were bad. It was perfect timing Blodwyn was here. He’d planned to call on him after dinner. Now he didn’t have to track the man down.

“These look quite serious,” he said.

“Can it wait? Just a few moments? I really need to talk to you. There was this young woman I met today. I am not sure I know exactly who she is, or what she wants. Or why she followed me, but she told me—”

“Fetch water from the well,” he said. “We’ll talk about this mysterious woman after. Right now, you grab the water and I’ll get prepared inside.”

mysterious“Prepared? What are we preparing for?”

“I’ve seen those type of cuts before. You were in the Isthmian, weren’t you? How many times have I told you not to swim that water?”

No one swam in the sea. “I was. But not by choice… this time.”

“There are copious amounts of poison inside your body, Mykal.”

“Copious? Big word.”

Not at all amused, Blodwyn said, “I hope for your sake this just happened. If too much time has lapsed, the consequences could be irreversible.”

Blodwyn always made everything sound desperate and dire. Fire and brimstone. The man thrived on imaginary danger. A good man, perhaps even a great man, but he’s always been a little over dramatic.

“I don’t know how much time has passed, Blodwyn, but it couldn’t have happened too long ago,” he said. He closed his eyes for a moment. It felt like his brain had become dislodged inside his skull. Despite the ever-increasing clouds, what little natural light remained hurt his eyes.

“Go and lie down. I’ll fetch the well water.” He held out a hand.

There was a sudden sharp pain behind his eyes. Rubbing his temples didn’t help. His clothing reeked of the sea. All he smelled was salt and fish. He wanted out of his clothing. He didn’t think he could remove them without tipping over. He moved his hands away from his head and held them out to keep from falling. “I’m okay, Wyn, I—”

“Really? Because you don’t look okay,” he said. His hand grabbed Mykal’s forearm, catching him before he toppled forward.

The door opened. Grandfather was at the threshold. “What’s going on? Mykal, what’s wrong?”

“He’s been cut, multiple times. The dorsal fins of an Isthmian Serpent are deadly. It is meant to incapacitate prey much larger than the beats so they can devour it without wasting energy fighting. How he’s still alive right now is beyond me. It isn’t like a serpent to carve up its meal and then allow it to escape. Let me get him to his bed. We have to act quickly. Isolating the poison is all but impossible now. The best we can hope to do is counter the negative effects and neutralize it from doing damage.”

“I’m okay, Grandfather. I’m just numb,” Mykal mumbled. He touched his hand to his face. “But, I can’t feel my tongue. Or my lips.”

Grandfather looked at Blodwyn and c****d his head to the side. “What did he say?”

“I’m not positive. We need to get him inside,” Blodwyn said.

“It’s going to be okay, Mykal,” Grandfather said.

I can’t feel my arms, Mykal thought he said, yet hadn’t heard his voice. I can’t feel my arms. He realized he wasn’t actually talking. The words formed inside his mind. He couldn’t get his tongue to move, or his mouth to open.

I can’t feel my armsI can’t feel my arms