Ghostwalker (Book 1) (5 page)

The fire crackled merrily as Jade leaned back in her chair, staring at the flames. The warmth seemed to soak its way through her fingers and toes, filling her entire body with comfort and security. She closed her eyes, feeling the heat against her face.

“Excuse me,” a sudden voice said. “May I join you?”

Jade opened her eyes to see a tall handsome man standing between her and the fire. He was dressed in expensive-looking clothes, with a purple cape hanging from his shoulders. His hair was dark, and a neatly trimmed goatee covered his face. At his belt hung a large sword in a scabbard.

“I would love some company,” said Jade, gesturing to a chair. “And you are?”

“Maklavir, at your service.” The man moved smoothly into the chair, whipping his cape out of the way. “And may I have the honor of your name, madam?”

“Jade,” she said without thinking. She hesitated for a moment. The fact that she couldn’t remember her real name came back to her with a painful stab.

Maklavir tilted his head slightly. “Something wrong, Miss Jade?”

She sighed. “No, no. And please, just Jade is fine.”

The man gave a warm smile. “Just Jade it is, then. I was playing cards over there when I noticed you sitting here by yourself.” His eyes flashed to the bandage around her head. “You’re injured. Nothing serious, I hope?”

A tavern maid arrived at the table before Jade could answer.

Maklavir glanced up at the woman. “Ah, yes. Nothing for me, thank you, but perhaps for the lady?” He looked over at Jade.

“Oh…no, no thank you. That’s very sweet, but I couldn’t—”

Maklavir waved his hand. “Don’t be silly. It would be my pleasure. Some stew, perhaps? You look positively drenched.”

Jade hesitated for a moment, then finally gave in and nodded her head.

“Splendid,” said the man brightly. “Some of your stew for the lady, then. On second thought, I’ll have some as well. A beautiful woman should never have to eat alone.”

The tavern maid took the order, then disappeared towards the back.

Maklavir stroked his goatee, giving Jade a thoughtful look. “The man you were with before,” he said, “is he…?”

Jade stared at him for a moment, then gave a short laugh. “No, no. Nothing like that.”

Maklavir’s face brightened a bit, but darkened just as quickly. His voice lowered. “I see. You’re not in any kind of…trouble, are you?” He left the sentence unfinished, and lifted his eyes to the bandage.

She looked down at the table and shook her head. “Oh, no. He’s done nothing but help me.” She smiled. “In fact, he won’t even touch me. Some kind of vow that he’s made.”

Maklavir gave her a curious look. “What kind of vow?”

She thought for a moment, trying to remember. “He told me he was forbidden from touching a woman, riding a steed, or using a gentleman’s blade.”

“Hmm.” Maklavir nodded slowly, as if in thought. “Sounds like the kind of vow a Ghostwalker would make.”

“A what?” The man sighed, tracing a carved line on the wooden table with his fingernail. “A Ghostwalker.” He looked up suddenly. “How well do you know this friend of yours, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Unexpectedly, a flash of doubt entered her mind. “Well—” she paused, the reality of the situation hitting her once again. “Not long. Only a day, I think.”

Maklavir lifted his eyebrows. “You don’t sound very sure.”

Jade stared down at the table. She didn’t know this man, but then she hardly knew Kendril, either. Without her memory she felt completely lost.

“I can’t remember anything,” she said finally. “Nothing before yesterday, anyway. It’s all a blank.”

Maklavir was silent for a moment. He leaned back in his chair, and Jade noticed a sudden kindness in his eyes. “I see,” he said simply. “I’m sorry. Amnesia, eh?”

She looked up with a start. “You’ve heard of this before?”

Maklavir nodded. “Most assuredly. I knew a stableman’s boy who was kicked in the head by a horse once. Couldn’t remember a blessed thing for several months.”

Jade felt a flood of relief, but it was quickly followed by a cold thrust of fear. “So he remembered everything eventually?” she asked anxiously.

“Yes.” Maklavir paused uncertainly. “Of course, there was a chance he wouldn’t. At least that’s what his father told me the physician had said. Apparently in some cases the condition is permanent.”

Jade felt her heart sink. “You mean I might never remember who I am?”

The man lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Jade. There’s just no way to tell. Not yet, anyway. Of course, I’m no doctor.”

Jade shook her head, willing the tears away. “What were you saying about…Ghostwalkers? Why are they called that?”

Maklavir shook his head. “They consider themselves dead to their friends and their family. At least that’s what I’ve heard. They’re a rather secretive group. Tend to keep to themselves.” He glanced at the fire as a log split from the heat. “They’re doomed men. Some would say damned. Most seem to take their vows as some kind of penance for a terrible sin or crime they’ve committed. They spend their lives seeking redemption for it.”

Jade thought about her secretive companion. What Maklavir was saying certainly seemed to fit. “What exactly do they do?”

Maklavir shrugged. “Depends on who you ask. A lot of people seem to think they’re nothing more than a band of thieves or assassins. Others believe them to be in alliance with…darker powers.” He folded his hands, tapping his thumbs together thoughtfully. “Truth is, no one really knows. I’ve heard stories of Ghostwalkers showing up at the strangest places at the oddest times. Sometimes they have been known to come in the middle of the night to a village or town and confiscate books or papers, or even people.”

Jade shuddered. “Why?”

“Eru only knows.”

“Are they…” she hesitated, looking for the right word, “dangerous?”

“Undoubtedly,” Maklavir replied without hesitating. “I would also add mentally unbalanced, psychotically violent, and extremely paranoid.” He raised his eyes over Jade’s head, looking behind her. “Did I leave anything out?”

Jade turned and saw Kendril standing ominously behind her.

“Kendril,” she said, feeling vaguely embarrassed, “I didn’t hear you come up.”

He pulled up a chair that faced the front door, then sat down, his eyes on Maklavir. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” he said quietly.

“Maklavir,” the man responded easily. If Kendril’s steady gaze unnerved him, he certainly didn’t show it. “You must be Kendril, I presume?”

Jade felt suddenly awkward. She tried desperately to think of something to say, but nothing would come.

“Ah,” said Maklavir brightly as the tavern maid returned with two steaming bowls of stew. “Splendid. Our food has arrived.”

Chapter 4

The food was surprisingly good, and Jade was suddenly aware how famished she was. She quickly finished her first bowl, and Maklavir kindly ordered her another, ignoring her feeble protests. Kendril was content with a mug of ale, which he drank slowly, his dark eyes watching Maklavir’s every move. Jade could feel the growing tension at the table, and decided that some conversation was better than the brooding silence.

“So, Maklavir,” she said, fishing a potato around in her stew, “what brings you to the middle of the wilderness?”

The man chuckled. “Nothing in particular. This is more of a stopover for me than anything else. I’m headed west towards Windspoint, looking for work.”

“What kind of work?” asked Kendril quietly, the first words Jade could remember him speaking since the food had arrived.

Maklavir grinned. “I’m a diplomat by trade, though I dabble a bit in local laws and treaties. Border disputes, inheritances, property deeds, that sort of thing. I look for work wherever I can find it.” He took a bit of stew, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with a handkerchief.

“Diplomatic work?” Jade asked curiously. “Have you ever worked with kings and queens, then?”

He took a sip of water from his mug. “A long time ago, yes. I was at the court of King Luxium of Valmingaard. I spent many years there. A most wonderful time, I must say.” He stopped eating for a second, a wistful look coming into his eyes. “Unfortunately, I was compelled to end my employment there.”

Kendril eyed the diplomat carefully. “A woman?”

“Kendril!” Jade glanced over at him in shock.

Maklavir gave the Ghostwalker a surprised look, as if noticing Kendril for the first time. “Yes, actually.” He put his spoon down on the table.

The Ghostwalker leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “What did you do, try to run off with the King’s daughter?”

“Daughter-in-law, actually,” said Maklavir. He picked up his spoon again, calmly scooping up a piece of meat from his bowl. “The whole thing was rather complicated, really. I had made some arrangements for King Luxium’s son Kanthar to wed Princess Driana of Kalingland.” He took a bite, waving his spoon in the air. “It was a master stroke, really. The two kingdoms would have been united, and believe me, they both needed it. It would have secured peace in that region for a long time.” His face soured. “Unfortunately, I miscalculated.”

“Lack of self-control is hardly a miscalculation,” said Kendril dryly.

Jade shot the Ghostwalker a harsh look, then looked back at Maklavir. “It’s all right, Maklavir. You don’t need to tell us all this.”

The diplomat picked up his water mug, and shrugged nonchalantly. “Why not? It hardly matters anymore. I simply misread Prince Kanthar’s feelings for the lovely Driana.” He paused for a moment, as if remembering. “Unfortunate that she did not return them.”

“I’m very sorry.” Jade glanced over at Kendril, who was still watching Maklavir carefully.

“Not at all.” Maklavir sighed. “There are times when I miss life at court, though.”

Jade took another bite of her stew, chewing a carrot thoughtfully. She swallowed, feeling the pain in her head returning. “Valmingaard,” she said, more to herself than anyone else.

Maklavir put down his mug. “I beg your pardon?”

“Valmingaard,” she repeated. “That name sounds familiar, like I’ve heard it before.” She looked at Maklavir, her face suddenly brightening. “It’s…it’s a cold place, isn’t it? In the north?”

The diplomat raised his eyebrows. “I’ll say it is. The winters there were awful. No matter how many fires we lit, we could never keep the palace warm.”

Kendril looked over at Jade with interest. “You’re starting to remember something?”

She shook her head, instinctively touching her bandage again. “Yes,” she said, “and no. I remember Valmingaard, but I don’t know why or how.”

“Have you been there before?” asked Maklavir.

“I’m—I’m not sure.” Jade winced as her headache began to return. “I think so…I have images in my head of dark woods, and a mountain range covered with snow.”

Maklavir settled back in his chair. “Sounds like Valmingaard. The palace is very close to the northern mountains. The view from the Crystal Tower is breathtaking.”

Jade stared out the windows of the tavern. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still ominously gray. “It’s so hard,” she whispered. “Remembering, but not remembering at the same time. It’s like I’m looking at myself in the mirror, but I can’t see my face.”

The table was uncomfortably silent for a few moments.

Kendril pushed his now empty mug away. “Well, it’s stopped raining, so I think I might as well take a look around.” He got up from the table, glancing back at the group of card players behind them. “Better go before it gets dark out, anyway.”

Jade stretched her legs out towards the fire. “I think I’ll stay here by the fire a while longer, if you don’t mind.”

“So will I,” said Maklavir with a gleam in his eye.

“Alright then,” said Kendril slowly, giving the diplomat a suspicious glance. “I’ll be back soon, Jade.”

He turned, heading towards the front door of the inn.

Jade leaned back in her chair, listening to the sound of the fire crackling and hissing. 

“So how are you feeling now?” asked Maklavir, folding his hands on the table in front of him.

Jade smiled at the diplomat. “Safe,” she said.

It had just started to rain when two riders materialized out of the darkness.

The single sentry at the western gate sighed heavily, then rose to his feet, feeling the rain fall in cold drops on the back of his neck. He stepped out into the road, his pole arm slung across his shoulder. He squinted to see the shadowy shapes of the riders. One was wearing a broad-brimmed hat, the other a long cape with a feathered cap.

“Who goes there?” he called.

The riders continued forward at a slow pace, their horses’ hooves clopping noisily in the mud. They made no response.

Instinctively, the sentry grabbed his pole arm, swinging it off his shoulder. “I said who—”

A hand clapped over his mouth, cutting off his words. Before he could react, a blade from behind slashed across his throat. A second later his body collapsed to the ground.

The two riders came up to the sentry’s motionless form. Calmly wiping the bloody knife clean on a wet patch of grass, his murderer nodded back towards the town. “She’s in the tavern. Derik’s keeping a watch on her.”

Montrose grunted, staring down the dark street stretching away from the gate. Four more riders appeared behind them, trotting quietly up to join them.

The nobleman seated next to Montrose looked down at the sentry’s body with distaste. “Do you intend to kill everyone in the town?” he asked with a sarcastic tinge, his eyes watching as the sentry’s dark blood mixed with the rain and mud.

Montrose shook his head slowly. “Not unless they give us trouble, which I doubt. Most of the people here will keep their heads down and leave well enough alone.” He turned to two of the four riders who had just joined them. “Get to the far gate and dispatch the sentry,” he said. “And do it quietly.”

They nodded, and rode off into the town.

Regvar sheathed his knife, then dragged the corpse off the road into the bushes.

The nobleman glanced nervously into the scattered buildings of the Outpost. “What about the other guards?”