The Call of the Dead

The terrible fever that had racked William Tralim’s body for days was only beginning to abate when the Curae bandits who called themselves the Danae came to his parents’ cabin. He knew they had come by the look on his mother’s face when she came to check on him one last time. He had tried with all his strength to get up to help his father fight them off. He was seventeen, he needed to be there, defending their home and hearth against the thugs. Instead, his mother laid a cold cloth on his forehead, kissed him once more, and locked the door behind her as he fell into an unwilling sleep.

William stared for a long moment at the two prostrate forms. He wanted to walk toward them, but he didn’t have the strength, so instead he shut his eyes and, using the gift of all who could call themselves members of the Curae race, transported the twenty feet by thought and found himself looking down at his dead family.

His icy cheeks were shocked by torrents of hot water, and he realized he was crying. Dropping on his knees, he plunged his hands into the snow and, gathering two fistfuls, shoved it into his face. Then, throwing back his head, he howled like a dying animal, and his voice echoed through the quiet forest for miles around.

***

The thugs had stolen the two horses owned by the Tralims, so once William had recovered and buried his father and mother, he gathered what he could carry, including his father’s sword and hunting knife, and made his way to the main road. Only twice before had he ever ventured out of the Yulicanna forest. Even since the Curae king, Leopold Ischis, had overthrown Verdania, forcing all humans into slavery, William’s father had insisted the rest of the world was not safe, even for Curae like them.

Therefore, the boy resolved to keep to himself and trust no one as he sought to discover the names of the band that had murdered his parents. The early winter darkness had nearly overtaken them when he finally arrived at Belfred. He took stock of the finest hotel in the town and, judging it to be out of his price range, went instead to a modest tavern on a narrow street.

The interior, aglow with firelight and filled with laughing Curae and bustling waitresses, was a welcome sight to William. He went to sit at the bar and ordered a beer and asked if the bartender knew anything about the Danae.

The Curus gave a curt nod and William caught sight of a figure across the bar. It was a Curus with a pointed chin, rough and patchy. His long fingers were curled around a whiskey glass and someone was talking to him, but he stared at William.

The boy shifted uncomfortably, wanting to return to his room as fast as possible without looking suspicious. He turned his head in the other direction and found another person looking at him, only this one was a woman, a Cura. She wore a dark dress, and her ebony hair sat atop her head in a complicated bun, contrasting sharply with her pale skin and light gray eyes. William didn't think her pretty, but he also couldn’t stop staring back at her.

Then, to his surprise, she stood up and came around the bar toward him. "My name is Clare. And you?”

“Uh, William,” he answered, taking her offered hand.

“Ooh, William, that’s a mouthful. Can I call you Will?”

He stared at her, amazed and a little turned off by her. “What makes you think you’ll be calling me anything?”

Clare crossed her arms. “Now that isn’t a very polite thing to say. Come on, I want to talk to you. Do you have a room?"

“Will you just leave me alone?” he demanded. "Why can’t you go about doing whatever it is a girl like you has to do.”

“Oh, a girl, am I?” Clare asked. “I am twenty in human years. How old are you?”

William winced. “I’m seventeen."

“Well then, I suppose you are more than able to take care of yourself. Though, you should watch out for that Danae informant." She by now had lowered her voice so he could barely hear her.

“What did you say?” he whispered “How do you know?”

“Because I’ve been keeping track of him this last month. I’m looking for them. Apparently, you are as well.”

***

“So that man is part of the Danae?” William asked once they were both settled in her room, away from prying eyes.

Clare took a sip of her hot wine. “Not precisely. To be a member you need to actually be born or married into the family. Old Grishel, who’s probably nursing a bad headache by now, gathers information for them in this town. They don’t show themselves much except when they are going on raids.”

“Yes, so I realized.”

Not missing the dark look in her companion’s eyes, Clare set down her cup. “Who did they take from you?”

William sighed. Clearly he was bad at concealing things from this Cura. “My parents. I don’t know what business they had with them, but they came in the late afternoon and left their bodies in the snow. I was sick with a fever and couldn’t stir from my bed.”

“Will, I’m sorry.” She reached for him.

He flinched and drew his hand away from her gentle touch. “There’s nothing anyone can do about it now. Well, except for me. I’m hunting them.”

Clare’s eyebrows rose. “You’re joking!”

His fiery gaze settled on her. “No, I’m not.”

She shook her head. “Will, you seem like a decent boy and much too young to die.”

“Who says I’ll die?”

“I do, and anyone else with half a brain from this side of Verdania! Where precisely do you think you are? We are hundreds of miles from big cities like Kering and Ephaniest. In this wilderness, crime families like the Danae rule.”

“If you feel that way, Miss Clare, why are you going to look for them?”

“My reasons are my own. Unlike you, I don’t trust my personal business to strangers.” She turned to leave the room, but William grabbed her arm fiercely.

“I have nothing left but to find these murderers and hurt them in any way I can before they kill me,” he said. “Don’t you think I know I’m going to die? I’m prepared to take any consequences from these actions. Since I found my parents’ bodies in the snow, I’ve been of one mind about this.”

Clare, grimacing slightly under his grip, looked into his eyes and saw he did indeed mean it. There was a hollowness there, filled only by his keen determination to enact revenge for those he had loved and lost.

“May I tell you a story?” she asked softly.

William’s eyes widened, and he released her.

“Once, a long time ago, there were two daughters, twins. They were children when their home was attacked by bandits who looted and pillaged and burned. Their mother went to their room and woke them, saying they all needed to flee. The girls were terrified, but there was already smoke in their room, so they obeyed. It was then that they realized their mother, a woman they’d always considered to be a person of peace, was decked out in weaponry. She brought them to their bedroom door, and ordered them to each grab onto her skirts. But she also ordered something else; they were to shut their eyes as they ran through their home. They merely needed to hold onto her skirts until she said they could open their eyes.

Well, the girls shut their eyes, and the mother ran out into the burning hallway. While one girl, being quite dutiful, kept her eyes firmly shut, the other was too curious, much too curious for her own good.” Clare’s eyes fixated on the flames in the fireplace, and William could not tell if it was a trick of the light or if they’d watered.

“Anyway,” she went on, “after much bumping and jostling, they escaped and ran into the nearby forest. On being told it was alright now, the girl who had shut her eyes and kept them shut opened them and cried tears of relief, hugging her mother and sister. The other girl, however, she could only stare numbly. You see, there were many enemies still pillaging in their home that night, and this girl saw her mother do terrible things to get her children to safety.”

Clare stopped again, this time to take the final drink of her wine. To William’s surprise, she stood up and went to the door. “I’ve been tracking the Danae for a while now,” she said, looking back at him. “I know where they are at this moment. I’m going to set out at first light from the stables connected to this inn. If you want to join me, you can.”

She was gone before he could say another word.

***

When William arrived at the stables in the cold light of dawn, he found Clare saddling two horses with supplies for a two day journey.

They headed out of the town and directly off the main road toward a thick forest several miles distant. Though the cold wind beat at their cloaks and hoods, they made good time and were several miles into the forest when the glassy winter sun was at its zenith. They paused to rest for a bit, and William took the opportunity for conversation.

“So, about that story you told me last night,” he began, “I’m not sure I understand. Which twin were you?”

Clare looked at him, her mouth half-full of bread. “Who says I was one of the twins?”

“I mean, given the circumstances, it made sense that the pillagers were the Danae, and I thought maybe you were one of the girls, going after them for the same reason I am.”

She was silent for a long moment, staring carefully at him. “Give your horse some water, Will. We need to be getting on.”

***

When night came, Clare showed no interest in stopping, but said they were not far now. Sure enough, not long after William made out the glow of a campfire in the distance, and his heart raced. He reached for the hilt of his sword and fingered it eagerly. Only a few minutes more, and he would go down bravely fighting for the memory of his mother and father.

In a hushed tone, Clare brought him back to the present by telling him to dismount and join her in tying up their horses.

“I’m going to scout out some things,” she said quietly. “You stay here and wait for me.”

Before he could argue, she had rushed off, and he stopped himself from calling out after her. After all, what had she been but a convenient guide to his final destination? This was his moment, and he didn’t have to share it with her.

And so, with a confident air, William took out his weapon and went barreling at full sprint toward the fire. In point of fact, this remarkable non-Curae method of attack did take the waiting Danae camp by surprise, but William’s heavy tread alerted one of the sentinels before he could reach the innermost circle of the camp. The sentinel, seeing the boy, transported across the clearing and engaged him in a quick battle that left William on his back with his sword in the victor’s hand.

“Who are you, boy?” the Curus sentinel demanded. He had a fire-scarred face, and his eyes were vicious. “Speak!”

With the tip of the sword still to his chest, William clenched his fists and tried to look as fierce as he could from this position. “My name is William Tralim! Your people murdered my family!”

The Curus nodded as if this was a very real possibility. “Hey, Marcus!” he called to one of the other Curae behind him. “Did we kill a couple of Tralims lately?”

“That sounds right,” the Curus called Marcus said. “They’d missed their rent one too many times, so her ladyship said it was the end of that little agreement.”

The Curus sentinel looked back down at William. “There lad, your folk hadn’t kept up their fair payment to us, so we had to kill ‘em. Looks like you’ll be joining them right soon.” He raised his sword and William closed his eyes, preparing for the death blow, when a voice stopped the assailant’s hands.

“No, Mercier!” a surprisingly feminine voice said.

William’s eyes shot open, and he gaped as a lovely Cura in a thick red cloak came forward. Others, consisting of both Curae and human slaves, bowed respectfully to her as she passed and allowed her a clear path to the scene. Mercier, the sentinel who had accosted William, lowered his sword and stepped away.

“An attacker, my lady,” he said. “I was only going to dispatch him.”

“What, this boy?” the Cura looked down at William, one pale eyebrow raised. “Which of his relatives have we killed?”

“My parents, you murderess!” William spat.

“Shut up!” Mercier kicked him in the side.

“From what I overheard, young Tralim,” the Cura said, not losing one ounce of calm, “your parents paid the Danae to look after them, until they didn’t, so we enacted justice.”

“You killed them for money!”

“Alas, everyone dies.” She removed one thin hand from her cloak to reveal a lovely walking stick set with rubies. Lifting it, she put the end on his forehead. “Before you die, would you be so good as to tell me how you found our campground?”

When William didn’t speak, for he could not add to his total failure by betraying Clare, the Cura’s expression became rather unpleasant, and she pressed the end of the cane into his head.

“Do tell me,” she cooed. “It’s cold and I should like to return to my book.”

“Halt!” another voice across the clearing rang out, and every head shot in that direction, save William’s.

“Wait!” William heard Clare’s voice above all the others. “I wish to see my sister!”

William watched the Cura who was threatening him grow stern, and she removed her cane from his head. Clare approached, her arms out in front of her to show she carried no weapon.

“Hello, Vera,” she said. “I see your in-laws are keeping you quite busy.”

The Cura grimaced. “What are you doing here?”

“Simple, I am here for two reasons, one planned, the other, not so much. The unplanned thing is to beseech you to let him go.” She pointed down toward William. “He’s a foolish child overcome by grief and therefore running headlong into suicide to ease his pain. I would’ve thought you could see that.”

“If I release him, he could attack me again.”

“And you would no doubt kill him just as fast, Vera! He’s a boy. Show some mercy.”

Her sister frowned, but to William’s amazement, she nodded. “Only for you, Clare. Now, what is this planned business?”

Clare’s expression grew sad. “I just want to tell you that mama died, and that she asked me to tell you she’s forgiven you for everything.”

A silence except for the crackling of the large campfire overtook the company, even those who could not hear the interchange. William, seeing that Mercier was not watching him, took the chance to scramble up and behind Clare, who he knew to be his best chance of survival. He watched Vera carefully, amazed to see a woman who’d been so menacing a moment ago now seem so … heartbroken.

“Well,” Vera said at last, clearly holding back tears. “Thank you for delivering the message in person. She would’ve liked that.”

“I promised I would,” Clare said. “I knew you’d let me go.”

Vera nodded. “Go then. It wouldn’t do to disappoint the old lady.”

***

William was much too overcome with shame to say anything as he and Clare safely made their way out of the Danae encampment, or when they made their own camp for the night. Eventually, however, his desire to speak and understand what had just happened became too powerful, and he opened with,

“I’m sorry. I know that was stupid.”

With the candor she had shown since their first conversation, Clare answered, “I knew you’d do it one way or the other. That’s why I left you alone.”

“You knew?”

“Of course! Didn’t you say last night you were prepared to die?”

William’s cheeks burned. “I did. And I honestly think I was until … well until his sword was at my chest. In that moment, I got a glimpse of what my life could’ve been if I hadn’t thrown it away. My parents wanted me to attend a school in one of the big cities. I’d never be able to do that.”

“Yes, I’d hoped you’d reach that conclusion, though I knew I couldn’t make you see it,” she admitted. “It seemed the only thing was to let you have precisely what you wanted.”

“I …” he trailed off. “Thank you, Clare. You saved my life.”

She smiled at him warmly, and William decided she was pretty after all. “You’re quite welcome.”

“I was right then?” he asked a while later, when they were about to go to sleep. “You and Vera were the twins, weren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And, she was the one who opened her eyes. She saw all those horrible things, and in the end, it made her into a monster.”

“She is a monster,” Clare said, settling into her sleeping cot. “But you’re wrong. Vera was the one who kept her eyes closed. I saw the carnage that day, and I vowed I’d never let it into my life again.”