Queen's Shadow || Kingdom at the End of the World - Book II

[3] A New Day

The village was not large. A dozen or so households, clustered by a bend in a merchant road like hens in a nest. Shadows collected along walls and under sagging roofs, spilling into cramped alleyways. Lanterns hung over the main road, bright and many, but their light did not touch the web of narrow pathways inside the village itself. There, night reigned undisturbed.

A dark forest rose on the other side of the road. Naked branches rattled like bones, bending toward the village with a sudden gust of wind. A shadow crossed the road, setting a few lanterns swinging violently.

Wind rushed into the village. It chased loose pebbles down a thin pathway, rustled under a line of laundry forgotten outside, scratched over dark doorways. Shadows rippled as the wind passed through them. The wind, and the creature it carried.

Deep inside the village, a window creaked open. A small face peeked over the ledge. The boy was no more than seven. He regarded the darkness with sleep-heavy eyes.

"Who's there?" the boy called.

The wind wailed again. The boy cocked his head, listening. His eyes fell shut, face growing slack and calm. He pushed himself up. One leg went over the ledge, then the other, dangling in the empty air. The ground gaped like a toothless mouth, cold and hard.

The wind moaned. The boy swayed forward –

"Wake."

The boy's eyes flew open. He gripped the ledge with a gasp, his heart in his throat. A woman stood below his window. The night was darker at her feet, the boy noticed, the shadows rippling.

"Go inside," the woman said.

The boy scrambled back. The window creaked shut.

Ira Hale exhaled. Her hands tightened over a thin throat. The creature clawing at her arms gurgled in pain. She shook it until it stilled.

"Silence," she said.

The gurgling stopped.

Ira set forward. Her steps melted into each other, falling quicker and quicker until she was running down dark streets. Houses pressed close. The creature Ira dragged in her wake slammed against stone walls as it twisted and writhed. The wind whined over the sound of its pained grunts.

They crossed the road. Light washed over them briefly, glinting off Ira's red eyes and the creatures' bared teeth.

The forest was quiet. There was no wind in the thicket, no bird song – the night was still, as if holding its beath. Trees grew closer the deeper they went. The light from the road and the smell of human things wore thin, until it disappeared altogether.

Ira slammed the creature against the thick trunk of an old oak. Its body creaked, bones grinding against each other under a thin layer of skin and fat.

"How many have you killed?" Ira asked.

The creature watched her with round, milky eyes. Its face was sunken and weathered. The smell of rot lay thick over its skin. When it smiled, its cracked lips stained its long, jagged teeth red.

"T-this week? T-this month?" it giggled.

Ira's fingers curled, digging deep into the creature's thin throat. The creature gurgled. Bloody spit spilled down its chin.

"You have broken the rules," Ira said.

"D-ddamn the rules," the creature hissed. "Need to eatttt. Eat. They pushhed us out and out and out and we went. There's nowhere left to go. My Lord will punish me for eatting? My Lord needs to eatt, too. Isn't that right? Isn't that right?"