I grabbed the door handle and pushed. I was in Lowtown, in front of my shack, but it wasn’t my shack. I felt like it was, but I knew that it wasn’t. I wanted to turn around but my legs continued forward. I tried to look down at myself, but my vision scanned the room. It was bigger than my shack. Rows of shelves lined one wall above a bench. On that bench sat a young woman.

“I’ve been waiting all day,” the woman said, a grimace twisting her lips. Dark frizzy hair balled around her head like an extension of her skull and blue eyes regarded me cooly.

“Who are you?” I asked. It wasn’t my voice, but a familiar voice.

The woman stood with a bright smile. “That doesn’t concern you.” She dug at her belt and I tensed, resisting the urge to grab the knife in the top of my boot. “I’ve come to give you this.” She produced a folded slip of paper. The scent of lemon perfume filled my nose as I reached to grab it from her.

“Don’t tell anyone what is in this letter. I’d hate to kill such a pretty young man because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut,” she said with another smile and brushed past me through the door.

Emotion roiled in my head, but glimpsed fitfully, like a gnat hovering at the edge of my vision. Fear? Anxiety? I studied the letter and walked to the bench. Unfolding the parchment revealed a few lines of cursive script.

“I have an important task. You know what is owed to me, sibling,”…the letter began.

It wasn’t signed, but I knew who it was. Her face appeared in my thoughts, but not her name.

Grevail’s eyes rose from the letter. His own shack surrounded him now. The fire-pit sat cold and empty before him, between the bunks in which they’d spent so many nights listening to Raela read.

“What are you reading?” a voice said beside him. Grevail turned to find Raela, staring at him with a foreboding frown.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, relieved that his voice was his own. He looked at the paper in his hands, now blank as the day it was made. The voice from before tickled at his memory, like a star twinkling in the endless night sky of his mind.

“Xylen!” Grevail shouted, bolting upright. He clapped a hand to his head in a futile attempt to quell the horrible throbbing he found there.

Raela sat a few paces away, bewildered emerald eyes watching him. Her features softened. “It wasn’t your fault, Grevail.”

The thought of himself with Xylen’s voice sent a shiver down his spine. He pictured Xylen’s body bleeding on the tomb floor and shook his head to dispel it. He would have killed us, Grevail reminded himself. He would have.

Early morning light scattered through the little copse of trees, bathing the newly green grass on which they made camp. None of them found much sleep since the tomb. The long walks that began at sunrise made it no easier and today would be no different. They’d traveled two nights from the tomb, fearing Noz and the other man would catch up.

“I was about to wake you two up,” Raela said, rubbing at the bags beneath her eyes—her hair a disheveled pile atop her head. Tessyn shifted under her cloak, then sat up with a groan. Raela’s sleepy gaze ran Grevail over from his head to his toes. “Adellus went looking for food. I don’t think he’ll be successful.” Her face tightened in concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine…just had a bad dream. My head is hurting like I had a few too many at Maedra’s.”

“What do you think Gaston will give us for it?” Raela said, nodding at the cube where it lay between his legs. “It better be a lot for what we’ve gone through.” The circular glass recesses still glowed a pale blue behind the odd triangle, even in the morning light. “I hope it was worth it,” she murmured.

“It has to be worth something.” His thoughts drifted back to the necklace and little throne he remembered stuffing into his rucksack that night in the tomb. “I wonder if our bags are still out there.”

Raela drew her eyebrows down at him. “We nearly died, Grevail. Xylen did die. Not to mention those two men who killed the Keepers and…Esh. That’s enough for me. I’d expect this out of Adellus…but you?” She pinned him with a stare that brooked no argument. “That’s enough for all of us. Esh!”

“We were so close. We had a fortune…”

“Have you lost your mind?” Her tone was barren of sarcasm. Grevail’s stomach shrank from the insinuation—the man’s face he glimpsed in the tomb still fresh in his mind. The night they escaped, wandering in the dark through the marsh, he told himself it was from the stress of everything that had happened. He’d heard all kinds of rumors about relics, but nothing like what he experienced. There had been no other hallucinations, though he still flinched whenever he touched the relic. When it turns to gold in my hand, I won’t even remember it happened, he assured himself.

“It’s too late now,” Tessyn said. “We have what we have. I’m not walking another day for the rest of my life after this.”

Raela bobbed her head and directed an approving smile at Tessyn.

Tessyn’s pretty features soured into a scowl at Raela’s approval. Her piercing honey-brown eyes dropped to the relic and then rose to Grevail. “Don’t forget what Xylen said about Gaston, Grevail. He sent us knowing others would show up. He had to have known.”

Raela grunted her agreement and turned her attention back to the relic. “We should decide what to do with it.”

Grevail couldn’t forget what Xylen said, even if Tessyn didn’t remind him daily. “We can’t be sure he was telling the truth…and anyway…what else can we do with it?”

“We could sell it to a Breaker,” Tessyn suggested.

Grevail shook his head. “A Lowtown Breaker? For what? A few ess?”

“The gold itself has to be worth a few hundred.” Tessyn rolled her eyes.

Grevail groaned. “A few hundred? Who in Lowtown has that? Even if they did, why should we settle for that when Gaston said we could get a thousand for it?”

Raela inhaled sharply, like she always did when she was about to stop them from fighting. “I should have never let you talk us into this, Grevail…but at least we have something…and none of us died.”

Grevail dropped his eyes to the relic. It glittered, dotted with morning dew like the grass around it. “With any luck, the Thava will blame it on Xylen…or those other two. We have to take it to Gaston.”

“Should we come with you?” Raela asked.

Grevail twisted his lips. “Gaston isn’t the type to be cracking my skull when I walk through his door, if that was his plan in the first place.” It was hard to imagine Gaston doing such a thing, but the more his friends questioned the man’s motives, the more Grevail did too.

“Maybe he’ll have someone else do it?” Tessyn asked in a voice so sweet it gave Grevail a stomach ache.

“I’ll be careful,” he said after a moment’s thought. “Besides, can we trust what Xylen said? He wanted to drum us up so we’d leave the cube without a fight. If we want good money for this thing, Gaston is our only bet.” Tessyn and Raela remained silent, but they knew like he did, Gaston was the only way they’d get anything close to what it was worth.

“We won’t find someone to buy it out here,” Grevail said, frowning at the trees around the clearing. “Let’s get moving.” He grabbed the cube and stood, wincing at his aching body’s protests. He squeezed the relic into his trouser pocket where it created a noticeable bulge. His stomach growled, sucking at his spine for nourishment. Tessyn and Raela rose too and together walked from the clearing toward the road through fat oak trunks.

Once out of the copse, they found Adellus standing at the roadside, spattered with dried mud like they all were. He tossed a coin above his head and snatched it from the air.

Tessyn eyed his fist. “You didn’t leave empty handed, I see.”

Adellus scoffed and held one of the thin bronze coins from the tomb by the edge. He ran his thumb along the weird angular symbols stamped into the perimeter. “Not that this is worth anything…ashen bronze. Found it in my pocket, but I don’t remember putting it in there.”

Grevail sighed at the disappointment in his voice. “I can take it to Gaston, might be worth something.”

“I think I’ll keep it,” Adellus said, grimacing. “At most it’s only worth a mug of cheap ale anyway.” He tucked the coin into his pocket with a shake of his head. “Ready? We can get back before dark if we hurry.”

“I’m ready,” Tessyn grumbled with a hand over her stomach.

As they set off, Grevail found that even after just a short while his feet and calves ached as if they’d never stopped. After the rain, the countryside was a bright and cheery green, but it did little to improve his spirit, especially with the uncertainty of this cube looming in his thoughts. He still couldn’t believe Esh were real. To think that all the stories he discounted over the years could have been true the whole time.

A few farmer’s wagons creaked by toward the capital, but not many travelers shared the morning with them. Grevail and his friends hid well into the vegetation at the roadside until they disappeared from view anyway. Even a lowly farmer would be another set of lips to tell someone where they’d been.

As the parent’s dipped toward the horizon, the towering walls of Eudan finally rose over the treetops. Grevail smiled at the ramparts piercing the sunset and his friends picked up their pace, relief pushing the misery from their faces. A steady flow of pedestrians and carts still streamed across the Kanarkand bridge and into the city. Two watchmen stood on either side of the gate, accompanied by a pair of Khossoroi in blue and white gambesons.

“I’m walking straight to Maedra’s…and then I’m sitting…sitting for a long while. I want a mug and a meal,” Adellus said as they marched across the bridge, eyeing the crowd as if an Esh were hiding among them.

Grevail scanned the crowd too, wondering what they’d say if told Esh were only a few days south…if they didn’t just laugh in his face. He gave a rueful toss of his head. Never thought I’d be the one with fantastical tales of stricken.

“I’m coming with you,” Tessyn said to Adellus, rubbing at her back. “I could use a wash too, even if it means spending the last of what little I’ve got.”

“I’m headed to Gaston right away,” Grevail said.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Raela’s concerned eyes swept to him. “Be careful…and remember what we said earlier. You know him better than we do but keep your eyes open. The watch too…if they catch you with that…”

“I will be,” he assured her. “We’ll have fifty ess at least, if not more.” A watchman might not know what the cube was, though it would no doubt draw their interest, especially if such a thing were in his possession. Grevail paused as a thought crossed his mind. He regarded Tessyn and Adellus, eyebrows flattening. “I know how you two can be when you’re at Maedra’s…keep your mouths shut.”

“Oh please, Grevail,” Adellus said. “Do you think I’d go around telling everyone I’ve seen what they think are children’s tales? The whole place would be hanging on my every word, buying me drinks for every detail. I wouldn’t want that! Not after sleeping on the ground for days and crawling through mud.”

“I mean it,” Grevail said. “Stop messing around. If the…” he lowered his voice, “they’ll be looking for us. Keep it quiet.”

“They won’t be looking in Maedra’s.” Adellus sighed and spread his hands. “Only trying to lighten the mood…after we lost…” he trailed off, studying his feet, then exhaled and met Grevail’s eyes. “I won’t say a word…I promise.”

Grevail clapped him on the arm. “I know, Dell. We’ll have something.”

The four of them joined the crowd flowing under the portcullis and the Khossoroi watched them pass like leaves in a stream.

After a few additional reminders for him to be careful, his friends went north toward the Lowtown gate, while he turned toward Merchant Row. The docks were roiling with activity at this time of day. Vessels from the marsh, sitting low in the water from the weight of their cargo, crowded the river’s edge. Further out in the choppy water of the Kanarkand white sails dotted the river. He thought of returning to the shack to grab his cap. He never liked being in Hightown with his merit on display for all to see but decided to press on. It was better to get it over with, and the longer he walked around with this thing in his pocket, the more likely he’d attract a watchman’s interest. The headache plaguing him since the tomb still throbbed against his forehead.

He meandered through busy streets noisy with hawker’s calls until they faded away and the tall stone buildings of Hightown rose around him. He kept a keen eye out for the watch, worrying that his aching legs would be in no condition to outrun them today. The obvious bulge the relic created in his pocket felt hot. He cursed himself for not tucking it into his belt, or anywhere less conspicuous. Instead, he kept a hand over it whenever someone flung an undesirable gaze at the merit in his ear or the mud on his clothes.

Fortunately, he went through Hightown without spotting a single watchman. Well-to-do residents raised their noses as he passed and kept a grip on their purses, but he was grateful for only that. Gaston’s house rose on the corner ahead and Grevail scurried toward the alley behind it. Entering the back gate, he strode up to the door and gave it three quick raps.

He waited only a moment before the door opened and Gaston’s head emerged into the late day sun.

A brief look of surprise popped onto the man’s chubby face, but it vanished in an eager smile. “Come in…quickly now before someone sees you,” he said and disappeared inside.

Grevail leaned into the doorway and scanned the hallway. Seeing nobody waiting to club him over the head, he shut the door and slid the bolt closed, then followed Gaston to the room with the big table where thick curtains over the windows permitted only faint light to enter the dim interior.

“Luck, then? What happened?” Gaston asked as he took his usual seat, chair groaning under his weight.

“I’ve got something for you,” Grevail said, casting an eye about the room. Tessyn’s warning repeated in the back of his mind. If someone were hiding in here, it would be hard to spot them crouching behind the shadowy piles of junk stacked all about.

An excited chuckle shook the fat under Gaston’s chin. “Very good! Let’s have a look at it then.” He reached for the green bottle of spirits they shared last time. “A drink? I know it’s a touch early, but hopefully we have something to celebrate! I knew you would succeed where others might fail. Please, sit.”

I knew you would succeed where others might fail. Grevail stared at Gaston’s bald crown as the man gathered the glasses, recalling what Xylen said.

Gaston raised his head, then an eyebrow when he found Grevail still standing on the other side of the table. His eyes dropped to Grevail’s dirty clothes while he poured. “How was the journey?”

“It was long,” Grevail grunted, “…and there were more Thava there than you said would be.”

Gaston set the bottle aside and raised his hands. “I only knew what I was told.” He offered Grevail a glass.

Grevail stared down at it. “I’m not thirsty.”

Gaston furrowed his brow. A frown tugged at his lips as he motioned for Grevail to sit. “Very well, you can show me what you have. Please…sit.”

Wiggling the cube from his trouser pocket, Grevail passed it to Gaston, just resisting the urge to snatch it back.

Gaston’s eyebrows scrunched together in apparent confusion. “That’s what you found?”

An impatient tinge touched Grevail’s voice. “What is it worth?”

“I can’t give an exact amount…but…” Gaston seemed perplexed and sucked at his lip while tracing a finger over the slanted triangle on a glass circle of the relic.

“Who can you sell it to?” Grevail pressed.

“I have someone in mind.” Gaston appeared uneasy with the cube in his hands and shifted in his seat, casting a furtive glance at Grevail.

“Who?”

“My buyer is in Dessos, I’ll have to take it to her.”

Grevail stared at him. “You’ll have to take it to her?” Dessos…I’m sure he’ll bring our share back quickly. Grevail spun and swept the room with his eyes but nobody had emerged to ambush him. “That wasn’t part of the deal,” he said, whirling back to Gaston and jabbing a finger at him as if it were a dagger. “You think you can cut us out! You knew they would be there, didn’t you?”

Gaston backed from the table and into his chair, concern widening his eyes. “Who? What are you talking about?”

“Xylen was there.”

Gaston’s mouth fell open. “Xylen! How?”

“I don’t know, but he was looking for that cube specifically…and he wasn’t the only one. There were another two men. A man who wore a robe and a man named Noz. The place was booby-trapped, Gaston. Xylen died from arrows that shot out of the walls! I saw it. The other two, they killed the Keepers we sneaked past to get inside.”

Gaston’s face morphed from mild disbelief to astounded worry by the time Grevail finished. “This is bad. Very bad,” Gaston said and hefted the relic up to his face, staring at it as if it had a secret to tell him.

“You knew! You knew they’d be there and you sent us anyway! Xylen said thieves like him are always at tombs.”

Gaston shook his head and a hurt look swept over his face. “ Xylen? Ask yourself, Grevail, why would I do that? So you could be caught?” He leaned on the table and released a haggard breath. “Stop acting a fool. This isn’t good for me…or you. They must have known it was there…but how, even my insider didn’t. Only a Conveyor might have information like that. With dead Keepers laying about, the Thava will be flipping over rocks looking for anything Emberfolk like a spade digging roots.” He shot Grevail an angry glare and motioned for him to sit. “If you want a way out of this perhaps you should sit and listen to what I have to say.”

“A way out of what?”

Gaston’s eyes acquired an intense focus as they centered on Grevail. “Did the killers see that stone in your ear? The Thava are sure to notice Xylen’s merit when they find his body, if they don’t already know him by name, but a short description to the watch and they will know it. There is only one place they’ll go hunting four young people like you and your friends. Do they know your names? What other clues did you leave behind for them to follow? If you want to take that chance, you can do so, the relic is yours, but if I were you I’d be on my way somewhere else as quickly as my feet could take me. There will be many eyes searching for this thing, that much is certain.”

The gravity of what Gaston said pushed Grevail into his chair. Somehow, he hadn’t thought of that. The Thava would know right where he was, and if those killers caught a glimpse of a merit, so would they. He couldn’t remember if he or his friends had let anything slip when they encountered Noz and the other man. He tried to think of what they stuffed into their bags before leaving. Bags that were now likely being searched by a Thavan at this very moment. “What should we do?”

“Emberstones, they call them.” Gaston turned the cube in his hands, inspecting one side after another, but Grevail knew they were all the same. “I’ve never seen one with my own eyes before, but they’ve been described to me many times.”

“Emberstones…” The word felt uncomfortable and foreign in Grevail’s mouth.

“The Dawnbreakers believe that the Emberfolk fled Voxetta because of the Stricken, using these stones to do what no one has done since and pass through the storms at sea.” Gaston waggled his head as if he found it hard to believe. “Of course, as I’m sure you’re aware, the Thava think Otash and Seren turned the Emberfolk to Stricken as punishment for their misdeeds, as if the Long Dark wasn’t enough. A good reason to keep any remaining artifacts of the Emberfolk from Dawnbreaker hands,” Gaston said, then sighed, “or mine.” He leveled his gaze at Grevail. “They are worth a fortune to the right person. I would have told you that earlier had you let me.”

“You can sell it in Dessos?” He watched the relic in Gaston’s hands, refusing to think about the man he saw in the vision or whatever it was, especially after what he’d just heard.

Gaston shrugged and spread his hands. “I could find a buyer here in Eudan…eventually…not that I’d want to with what I know now. We’d get a lot for it, but not as much as

she’d pay. She’s wealthy, the kind of person to whom a few thousand ess is a pittance. She only seeks the rarest items and has the money to get them.”

“Why did you tell me it was worth anything?”

“I could have told you it was worthless,” Gaston said, cocking his head to the side and pursing his lips. He looked down at the cube. “I could have done that and taken it to Dessos myself, earning a huge profit. But I like you Grevail and I want to help you. It’s only fair. You took the risk to get it…and…I wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m sorry, Gaston.” Grevail hung his head, and not just from the shame of accusing Gaston on only Xylen’s worthless word. A surging pressure came to the forefront of his skull and he clenched his jaw until it passed. Ashen headache.

Gaston shrugged and returned his attention to the cube, rubbing a hand over what little hair he had left. “I understand now why you are so on edge. I thought you might find a few trinkets, even those can fetch a fair price, maybe one of those figurines that Breakers like to collect, but this…” He paused and a questioning look entered his eyes. “Did anything else happen?”

“There were Esh…three of them…they attacked us.”

Gaston clutched the cube to his chest and pushed himself from the table, chair screeching on the floor. “Ashes! Esh? They didn’t get anything on you did they?”

“It’s been three days.” Raela detailed the effects: a musky odor, violent acts and thoughts, a limitless hunger for meat. He was hungry enough to eat all the meat in the world, but he hadn’t felt any different otherwise. Raela said Esh lived together in the woods. Grevail shuddered at the thought of a community of those things lurking in the wilderness.

Gaston watched him as if he wasn’t so sure as Grevail seemed to be, but still resettled at the table. “Bury my spirit. Esh? It must be worse than…it must have been terrifying. Esh don’t wander in threes…had to be a raid…a nearby colony.” Gaston appeared lost in thought and spent a few moments staring at the air in front of him before bringing his attention back to Grevail. “You’ll go with me to Dessos? I shouldn’t have to convince you why it would be in your best interest. Aeson, the Thava, those killers, Xylen…all of them looking for what you have here. Even if you rid yourself of it, they’ll still be looking for you…well, maybe not Xylen.” Gaston set the relic on the table with a thunk. “So?”

Grevail studied the big man’s face. All he had to do was convince his friends to come along, not that they had much choice with the mess he’d landed them in. They’d go to Dessos and sell the cube, then skip into the sunset with more gold than they ever dreamed of, leaving all of this behind as a distant memory. After what they went through to get the thing, how could they not continue? The hard part was already over. “My friends come too.”

“Of course,” Gaston said as if that were obvious and passed the cube to Grevail. “We must leave quickly and get it out of the city. I have preparations to make. Ready your friends and we’ll meet at the bridge gate tomorrow before dawn. I’ll have horses for all of you. Four, correct?”

Grevail recovered from a moment of surprise and nodded. “Yes…four.”

Gaston produced two fat purses from under the table and tossed them to Grevail. “Fifty ess, as I promised. Consider it a down payment for everything that happened out there. Get some rest, food, and equipment for the trip.”

Grevail hefted the purses, shock stilling his tongue, then rose and stuffed the cube into his belt. Gaston herded him toward the door.

“Be careful on the way home. Any watchman catches you with that and you’ll never see any of us again, not even your friends. I’ll take care of the supplies we will need along the way. Just make sure to be there. Keep quiet tonight…lay low. Not a word to anyone,” Gaston said, then bade him farewell.

Grevail left through the gate to find dusk had settled over the town. As he returned to Lowtown, he thought of how to break the news to his friends. Any scenario he played out in his mind, none ended well, though the purses Gaston gave him would soften the blow. As he left Hightown, the tall stone buildings were replaced by the modest merchant houses of The Scales, and those too soon faded into the quickening darkness as he crossed into Lowtown. When he turned onto his street and his shack came into view, only then did he release the breath he’d been holding since stepping out of Gaston’s door.

“Grevail!”

He whirled to see a surprising but familiar face. “Makhe?” Grevail asked.

The young man stopped a few paces away. Light brown eyes looked Grevail up and down and a yellow merit sparkled in his ear. “Sleeping rough?”

“Not yet.”

Makhe raised an eyebrow. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you,” he said, then tuned his voice to a whisper, “about Xylen. I heard you were back in town.” He ran a hand over his short black hair as if nervous. “It’s important. You haven’t seen him have you?”

Grevail felt like he’d swallowed a stone. “No…I haven’t seen him,” he began, perhaps too quick. Back in town. Ashes. He’d put his money on Dell having the big mouth. “You should know we don’t get along if you are spending time with him.”

Makhe took a few hesitant steps closer. “I do know, but I thought you might have heard something. You were friends once, a while ago. You might know things about him nobody else would.”

“What is it?”

“I think Xylen got himself into trouble with someone.”

“What’s new?” Grevail muttered.

“Grevail, this is serious. He left a few nights ago.” Makhe’s head spun and his gaze darted between the shacks around them. He looked even more anxious than Grevail felt with the relic in his belt, pressing against his stomach.

“To where?”

“I don’t know. He only said he was headed south…into the swamp.”

“So what do you think happened?”

“I don’t know. You swear you haven’t heard anything?”

“No, I haven’t.”

Makhe watched him for a long moment before he spoke. “That isn’t the only reason I’ve come. A man was asking about you…and Xylen.” Makhe’s eyes again darted into the darkness, as if he expected that man to step out of the shadows.

Grevail drew down his brows. “Who? What did he want?”

“He didn’t say, but he described you perfectly…right down to the color of your merit. He wanted to know where you were.”

“What did he look like?”

“Older fellow. Grey hair, dark eyes…average looking, really. He was here in Lowtown but he didn’t seem to belong here if you know what I mean. He acted like he ran the place, though. I’ve never seen him before and he didn’t have a merit in his ear.”

Grevail chewed his lip and rifled through his memory for any hint of who the man could be. The description didn’t sound like either of the two men from the tomb. “What did you tell him?”

“I don’t tell outsiders anything, you know that.” Makhe said. “But there was something about him…” Makhe paused and shook his head again, as if dispelling a thought from his mind. “I just thought you’d want to know. You’d tell me right? If you knew anything?”

Grevail nodded. “I would.”

“I just think it’s weird,” Makhe said, eyes narrowing. “Xylen goes missing, then this man appears asking about the both of you. Xylen went to the marsh and you left town around the same time. Now, here you are, a few days later with mud all over your clothes. Struck me as strange is all, but if you say you don’t know anything…” Makhe gave him a piercing look and spun away, walking back the way he had come.

Grevail watched him sink into the dark, twisting streets of Lowtown. The numerous paths and niches around him suddenly held invisible eyes, their owners crouching in the darkness, waiting for him to turn his back. He did turn, clutching the hilt of the knife in his coat and expecting forms to spring from their hiding places to confront him. He hurried down the narrow path toward his shack. The painted lanterns hanging outside his neighbor’s homes swung in a slight breeze, casting dim yellowed light across the street.

He stopped at his door and knocked. “It’s me!”