Nova’rn looked through an expansive window overlooking the gardens of Bloodsworn. He needed some sense of normalcy amid his memories, opening and unfolding like a book in his mind.
Pages in full color of every horror, every deed, and the eager appreciative eyes of Sorrowgaze watched ever in each depiction. His training as a mutt to a life spent bent and quiet, never a word spoken for years at a time. He often thought only in music, images and flickers of color and scent. He had forgotten what his voice sounded like.
Turning and turning, the cloth twisted up into a weapon thin and long to lay around a neck. Knuckles clenching, he seemed not to pay attention to his hands, only looking beyond. “I remember the smell of apples…”
** ** **
Elen’air laughed as she sang, pulling large pale apples from branches as her son ran round and round her ladder. His fingers quickly grasped and caught every apple she dropped before it hit the grass below. He tumbled and spun in that lanky way boys can do. Black hair stood up on end in places with a long ponytail at the nape of his neck, like a fox or so be thought.
“Oh where are you going, my pretty little dear, with your rosie cheeks and your coal black hair?” Her voice lilted in a fair country way, simple with a giggle always at the edges. This was his favorite song, as they tried new rhymes and words, always changing it as they worked to stay bright minded as she said.
“I’m going to fishing, kind mum, and dashing through the heather with a care!” He sang back as she kept him so busy with her far and short tossing.
“Suppose I was to offer you candied apples and treats, would I lure you to this seat?” She smacked her lap with fingers dripping in juices.
He fixed her with a direct look, bowing like she taught him for the lords. “I’m a seeking the world not your words with my ear, but perhaps if I bore of the sky I will come round in a year!”
“Suppose I were to carry you, my pretty little dear, in a chariot with horses, a gray gallant pair?” She opened her arms wide while leaning upon the ladder.
“You couldn’t hold me with a ring round my finger, nor a noose round my neck, nothing could make me linger…” He thought for a moment, trying to rhyme words as he panted hard in the vigorous catches and leaps.
She laid a hand to her chest, to continue the song, but held quiet. A pair of men from the leading houses moved down the row, eyes direct and step unwavering. “Son. Straighten yourself now.”
Other mothers and children pulled together in a loose gathering along the line of trees. The air smelled fresh, a sweetness that put the two gentlemen in a fine mood. Every family they stopped upon they spoke with, sharing a joke and fine time. Yet they also checked the quality of fruit, giving each child a quick look, especially those nearing a marriage age.
Elen’air rubbed at marks on Nova’rn’s face, tugging at his shirt as he stubbed his feet in sandals that barely held to his feet. One of the men wandered closer tossing an apple towards Elen’air, yet it was Nova’rn who jumped up to catch it. The men shared a sliding of eyes, stopping far closer to the mother and son. They crowded her against the ladder and buckets of apples as Nova’rn popped the apple back.
“Fancy moves, boyo!” The man leaned down to his haunches, simple cotton pants and shirt, a long coat. “Crevner. And what’s your name, son?”
He gave his mother a little look, seeing the eagerness in her eyes far more than the concern, though somehow deep down he knew something was different. “Nova’rn Riversong, sir.”
The other man watched with a keen eye. He wore a fine suit, colors simply dark in grays and blacks with a thin silk shirt in pale green like soft spring apples. This man they all knew as Lord Fasus Kain of Darksky. His attentions were rare in the orchards and fields, but he was known to have the best eye for discerning talent. Elen’air held her breath, wishing he would continue on his way.
“Nova’rn is well into his…seventh year with you and your husband? A fisherman by trade in his family.” Nova’rn laughed as he ran and leaped, twisted and turned, catching the apples tossed while taking moments to walk on his hands showing off to the man. “He shows a great deal of promise, far better hands than needed for fishing.”
“He enjoys fishing, able to find deep waters and nice holes for the older fish.” She twisted her hands in her apron.
The eyes of the gentleman turned to the woman as a finger tapped his lips which pursed in thought. “Yet he is not with the fishermen, working the orchards with you? Certainly you wished our eyes?” He leaned to her as sadness filled her eyes, a painful reality of guilt. “Crevner, please take a fine walk with the lady. Nova’rn, we have much to see this day. Ever taken a ride on a hawkstrider?”
The boy returned with a bright-eyed excitement. “No! Mother, can I go?”
Her eyes held a pained loss knowing she would never see him again. Kneeling before him, she pulled him tightly to her breast. A kiss laid to his forehead. “Be a good lad. And remember us, bright boy.” His tiny fingers clutched at her, feeling the heaviness of words and thunder of heartbeat.
Eyes closed, he rubbed his face against her shoulder suddenly afraid. “Mother…tell father I was brave.” His feet carried him away without a moment more spent. Nova’rn could not bear to see her sad.
Nova’rn waited at the hawkstriders held by a servant. Another man waited with lengths of white hair, a robe of white and arrogant eyes. “Come for a ride, boy?”
Leaning hands on his knees, he straightened spying yet another signet ring. He offered a deep bow to the man, keeping his eyes on the lord’s. Striding to the boy, he pulled back his hand to strike as sunlight caught on the gem in the signet.
“Hold, Sorrowgaze. This is the boy.” Fasus rushed to his side, thin coat billowing in the breeze. “The family is notified. He is yours. But you know my terms.”
The pale man frowned lowering his hand in a slow way as the boy still held his eyes. “He’ll need breaking, my lord.”
“And I have no doubt you will do so correctly. Nova’rn, this is your lord, from now until your death.”
“I understand, lord. I won’t disappoint you.” He bit at his lip unable to shake the sound and look of his mother. Was she so certain, to never see him again? For the first time, fear wound about his mind.
Sorrowgaze neared Nova’rn laying a torc around his neck without clasping it closed. “Disappointment is death. You are no longer Nova’rn, but a dog.” As the clasp clicked together, all life left the boy’s eyes.
He would have to earn civility again, after years and years. For now, he was a beast, a creature, little better than a snake that reacted to a mouse to eat.
*****
Bodies laid upon the shore as the waters rolled in and out again. Hermit crabs moved towards the softer sands, scuttling over twisted hands, bent limbs. Every face laid in the earth, sinking deeper as the tides changed.
Guards wandered through the remains of a war only marked by the dead. Nothing of what happened remained. No line of footprints, puddles of blood, thrown weapons or residues. The sea had swallowed everything…but the killer and the dead.
Hands gripping swords, they moved through a world blue in the shades between night and morning. Just enough brightness edged the far horizon to give them sighting of a man with long dark hair, sitting on his knees, face to the sea. Across his knees laid an empty scabbard emblazoned with a house symbol, so as upon the livery he wore, though through it laid a black slash. The closer they came, blood smelled freshly spilled upon him, just old enough to become sticky.
He turned to peer through messed lengths of hair, eyes dead and flat. One by one, they surrounded him, blades singing free, the captain laying his own upon the man’s neck. Bending forward, laying his palms behind the small of his back, Nova’rn surrendered.
Hands roughly tossed him forward into the sand, so like those he killed. A crab left a corpse to crawl closer to him. He gave the slightest of smiles as the captain demanded he be taken to justice, and not dispatched here. No food for you today.
— — —
They sat in a half circle, staring over the spires of Silvermoon from the depths of Brighteye Square. Three men and a single woman, ancestral lords and lady of the house Sorrowgaze, Palestar, and Wolfcry. The remained under a banner that bound them together, that of crime and victory. How long the quiet midnight wars roamed predated the men knelt behind their lieges. None of the hands watched their lords, or even the lady, keeping their attentions bound to the other. Each of them remained ever eager for war, hands laid upon hilts. All but one.
Nova’rn rested on the balls of his feet, hands on his thighs, eyes on his lord to discern his visage when it turned. Ethrez’thalnan of Sorrowgaze. A towering yet thin man, ever seeming on the verge of death. Such a deceptive ploy, the poison in his blood was his own, yet he devised a terrible play for the world to experience of pinning his illness on another house, destroying it through a slow gutting by Nova’rn and others.
These men followed no Kanly. They lived it. Politicians were easily purchased for their needs, but the turning tides of court had given them far more power. The way of the hidden families, controlling the various levels of crime shifted, and names once strong fell, as others rose. Such things were beyond the man. He simply waited on the directive and method. Nova’rn would bring the ends.
“The Jackel and his brood fell.” Palestar spoke in his usual gruffness, causing his hand to rise a little. “Signs point to the Leafblades.”
The woman, wife to the man and some believed the true power behind that family, seemed not to worry. But the other leaders of their houses felt otherwise entirely, trading glances and moving with subtle concern. Sorrowgaze remained ever silent as his hand, though his fingers clenched upon a slim blade hidden in the sleeve of his coat.
The lord of Wolfcry gripped the stonework before them, hungrily considering the vista of magelights and teeming life below. Drugs and goods traded hands as easily the whores’ their wares with willing men. Everything had a price. “If they move, it is significant. Now is the time for taking property, gaining advantage, and thinning the houses in power.”
“What do you propose?” The two men continued to speak, but Sorrowgaze only pulled free a thin blade with a specific rune carved within it. Nova’rn clasped his hand around it. This man never required him at his side. Bowing his head, meeting his eyes for a brief moment, he disappeared to fulfill his bidding. The Leafblades were not the issue. But these two houses were. The time of alliances was over.
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