The Knave of Souls - Fantasy - Sequel to The Jack of Souls

Chapter 1a

The more knave, the more luck.

—Arkendian proverb

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A VOICE IN THE DARK

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A voice woke Harric from deep sleep, and he opened his eyes to a dark room, disoriented.

"Who's there?" he whispered. Yet even as he asked, he knew.

The creature had found him.

"We had an agreement," it rasped, horrifyingly close in the dark.

Harric scrambled back to the far edge of his bed until his shoulder hit hard stone. Grains of musty mortar drizzled down his neck, reminding him where he was: in the postern guard room in the mountain fortress. The garrison had awarded him this private quarters for destroying Sir Bannus's army the night before, but now it felt more like a trap than a privilege. He'd locked and barred the doors before laying down, only to learn, too late, that an imp of the Unseen didn't need to use a door.

Groping for a candle, his eyes scoured the darkness where he'd heard the voice. The only light in the room came from the arrow slip, where a slant of moonlight etched a silver triangle on the floor, but that was enough to reveal the creature as a clot of deeper darkness at the edge of his bed.

The thing retreated a step, talons clicking on the stone floor.

Harric's heart slammed his ribcage. "We do—we have an agreement," he said, holding his hands out defensively before him. Even to his own ears his voice sounded small and frightened, not at all what the moment required. He cursed inwardly. 

Steeling himself,  he closed his eyes to look up at the teardrop-shaped hole at the top of his mind—the "occulus" the imp had cut with its talon only days before. Now it hung in his mind like a luminous window, its edges outlined by the glow of the spirit world beyond. Taking a deep breath, he pushed his consciousness up to the window of the occulus and peered out at his narrow cell as it appeared in the unseen world of spirits. In the Unseen, its walls and floor glowed faintly, outlined by the low spiritual essence of moisture and dust, while the wooden doors at either end shone bright with the residue of life.

The imp hunched before him like a grounded bat. Its gaunt, blackened, body was no larger than that of a nine-year-old child—and a starved one at that, with jutting ribs and overlarge head—but the peaks of its membranous wings reached at least as high as a man. Hooked talons adorned crooked fingers and feet, and a hedge of needle-like teeth—seemingly too numerous for its mouth—stretched its face in a permanent grin. Pupilless white eyes fixed on Harric.

"Then you did not attempt to hide from your debt?" it said.

"Of course not." Harric's heart felt like it was beating in his throat. He swallowed, and carefully avoided glancing past the imp at his sword, which hung by the door to the corridor. "I'm glad you found me, Fink."

"I kept my end of the bargain."

Harric licked his dry lips. "What did you do with my mother?"

"She is in her grave."

"Will she stay there this time?"

The hedge of needle teeth widened in what might have been a humorless grin. "Her ghost won't bother you. She's gone."

A flutter of hope in Harric's chest. He stared, scarcely daring to believe what he'd heard. He repeated the word in his mind.

Gone.

No more hauntings. No more attacks on him or Caris. No more madness and terror. A weight lifted from his spirit—a weight so familiar he'd forgotten it was there.

His heartbeat began to calm.

"Now for your end of the bargain." Fink stood, knobbled limbs crackling. He extended a hooked talon toward Harric's forehead.

"Wait." Harric jumped up to stand on the bed, his back colliding again with the wall.

Fink hissed. Peaked wings extended to the sides as if to catch him if he ran for the door.

"I just mean...I want to talk first." Harric's gut squeezed tight, pushing the air from his lungs. His mind galloped. "We can't talk here. If the others see us, they'd destroy your witch-stone and hang me. So...let's meet me outside. Up on the cliff with a view of the approaches."

After a moment, Fink furled his wings. "On the cliff, you settle your debt."

Harric nodded. Relief restored his breath.

"Leave the sword," said the imp. And he vanished.

=7k'  

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