The mayor’s tale about Nevkin unfolded in bits and pieces at first, but by the time he got to the meat of the story, his words flowed like a punctured radiator hose. “So, I was there, in the tavern, eating some fresh biscuits and gravy, when I heard a horse pounding over the cobbles. Now, we don’t have any sort of town watch here in Applegrass; folks are generally pretty mindful of one another, and if someone comes through that causes a problem, we put together a volunteer militia to take on the threat. All that’s to say, decent folk know better than to gallop through the crossroads! There’re kids playing and folks crossing to go to one shop or t’other.”
Ward held up a hand to get a word in, and when the mayor paused, he asked, “And when was this?”
“Just about two weeks ago. I know that ‘cause Yami had just put together a naming party for young Joni’s firstborn, and I had agreed to let her use my office, seeing as it’s right here in town—"
Ward nodded and, afraid the story was about to take a significant detour, interjected, “That’s fine, mayor; let’s get back to when Nevkin came into town.”
The mayor nodded, frowning and licking his lips nervously as he continued, “So, when I heard that gallop, I hopped up and peered out the window. That’s when I first saw him. A lanky fellow in tattered, ratty robes, decked in raven’s feathers and filthy from the road. Those robes were stained with something, but being black, it was hard to say what. He swung off the horse, looped his reins on the fence post, and strolled up the steps to the tavern without a second glance at the bedraggled, heaving animal. Well, I stood tall and waited for him to come in, intent on telling him off for riding that way into town.”
“How’d that go?”
“Not well! He came through the door, slamming it wide, and stomped into the tavern, glaring around like he was looking for someone. Now, this fellow was quite strange up close, and he smelled like a five-day-old rabbit carcass. I took a few steps back when I caught that odor, and he glared at me with the most daunting, peculiar eyes I’ve ever seen! They were wide, with far too much of the bloodshot whites showing. He had a mad look about him, what with his sweaty, dust-covered scalp and the strange tattoos all over it. He practically leered at me, and his voice was deep and strong when he spoke, sending shivers down my spine.”
Ward nodded. “What did he say?”
“He said, ‘I’m Nevkin, Lord of these lands, and there are two men I need to see.’ ‘Course, I didn’t know it then, but he was looking for the two landholders he hadn’t yet killed! You see, on his way into town, he stopped by the Graymane estate and killed old Ford Graymane, last of his name, claiming his holdings. He also went over to Val Russet’s farm and killed him—right in front of his wife and son! That’s where my Yami went; Val was her father.”
Ward nodded, putting the pieces together. The “girl” was one of the local “nobility” and had been working in the mayor’s office. “So what happened next?”
“Right. He said he was looking for Bors Goffet and Dav Thornlane. Bors and two of his men happened to be in the tavern, and he stood up, throwing his chair back—Bors was always up for a brawl, ‘specially when he had a couple of men to watch his back. He hollered at the stranger, something like, ‘What are you doing coming in here spitting my name like a curse, stranger?’ Well, Lord Nevkin—”
“He’s just Nevkin.” Ward had had enough of Nevkin, and he hadn’t even spoken to him yet.
“Um, well, Nevkin turned toward Bors and his men and grinned, licking his teeth with his tongue. That’s when I first noticed something strange about it; it caught the light and glinted like polished silver. He licked his teeth, slow and deliberate, then he reached into his robes and took out a small orb that glowed with the most mystifying blue light I’ve ever seen. He shouted some curses and made some demands, but when Bors and his men reached for weapons, rather than falling to their knees, he held that orb up with one hand, pointed his other at Bors and the two men, and—” The mayor bent his head and cradled it between his hands, and Ward thought he heard him sob.
“What? What did he do?”
“He said some words that cut me on the insides—they made my ears bleed, and I swear I tasted copper for an hour after that. Anyway, that’s what happened to me just for hearing ‘em. What happened to Bors and his men was worse.” He paused and looked up, blinking rapidly and wiping his nose. When he saw Ward’s stern gaze still focused on him, he nodded and continued, “My vision went blurry when those words were echoing around the place, but when I refocused, I saw Bors, cut in half at the waist, the table behind him and his two men, too. One of those poor sods was hit by just part of that foul magic and lost his leg at the knee. He screamed—oh gods, he screamed! The whole while, blood was spurting out, pooling with the other two dead. It was the ghastliest, grisliest thing I ever saw!”
“He cut ‘em in half? With the spell?”
“Aye! And when Mrs. Beth ran over with a healing tonic for Bors’s man, Lord—ahem, er, Nevkin chased her off. Said he’d do her in, too, if she tried to help again. So, the rest of us watched while Wayne bled out and died there with his friend and his boss. The whole while, that man, Nevkin—he spat blood and gargled some strange concoction, looking around with mad, wild, bloodshot eyes.”
“The spell made him bleed?”
“I don’t know if it was the spell, sir, but he was certainly spitting blood, and I saw many a lesion on his arms and scalp.”
“Mmhmm.” Ward nodded, rubbing his stubble-covered chin. It sounded like Nevkin could cast a damned dangerous spell but also that it might be doing him some significant harm. “What did he do then?”
“He demanded directions to Dav Thornlane’s estate—threatened to kill us all if we didn’t give ‘em to him quick. Then, on his way out, he declared, again, that he was the rightful lord of these lands now and that we’d all better get used to the idea. We watched him mount that poor, half-dead horse and whip him bloody to get him moving through the crossing and up north toward Dav’s place. The crafty old codger’s been hiding, though, keeping Nevkin hunting for him these past few days. Like I said, rumor is, he’s laying low, waiting on a champion from Port Granite to come and fight in his place.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Doesn’t really seem like much of a fight took place in that tavern. Did Nevkin call the guy he killed out? Did he declare the challenge, I mean?”
“Oh, aye, I s’pose I left out a few details. When he declared himself lord of these lands upon entering the tavern, and Bors stood up like the fine man he was, Nevkin said some words about getting on his knees or dying…” The mayor trailed off, shaking his head and making a tsk sound.
“So, you reckon he’s where again?”
“Maybe at the Graymane estate. Word spread from the help—most have since quit—that he moved in after killing old Ford.” The mayor frowned and shrugged. “He might be up at Dav’s place, trying to sus him out.”
Ward gestured to the mayor’s desk. “Think you could draw me a rough map of the area?”
“My pleasure!” The mayor downed his liquor, and Ward took his first sip; it was harsh, throat-burning whiskey. He nodded in faux appreciation, then followed the mayor over to his desk, where the little, red-haired man rustled through the drawers looking for paper and a stick of something like charcoal. As he began to scrawl out a rough map of the town and the surrounding area, Ward walked over to the window and checked on Haley. She still sat atop the little fence, warily turning her head left and right at the people moving about—every one of them on the other side of the street.
“Here you go, sir!”
Ward turned to see the Mayor approaching with the map. He took it, noted the crude talent, but bit his tongue when he thought of making a cutting remark; the Mayor had been through enough. “This is the crossroad?” When the mayor nodded, Ward traced his finger to the north, where some fields were depicted with wavy lines. “What’s this dotted line?”
“That’s the path leading up Gallow’s Hill. Dav Thornlake’s estate is up there past the old hanging tree.”
Ward scratched his jaw, silently vowing to shave soon. “And back here, to the, uh, west? This dotted line through the—Are these trees?”
“Aye, Whisperbrook Grove. The path leads through it, and on the other side, you’ll find Graymane’s estate; that’s where people say Lor—er, Nevkin, is holed up.” He cleared his throat and stepped back, clasping his hands in front of himself. “Excuse me, sir, but you don’t mind if I lay low, do you? Also, I’d rather no one knew I made that map for you…”
“Say no more, mayor. Don’t mention to anyone that I’m looking for Nevkin, yeah? I’d rather not give him a heads-up. Where’s the inn, by the way?”
“Absolutely! If anyone asks what you were doing in my office, I’ll say you were inquiring about the old Harwell orchard; it’s been vacant for seven years, and the town reclaimed the land to sell last spring. As for the inn, just continue to the crossroads and turn right. It’s the biggest building on the left side of the street.” The mayor stepped toward the door, reaching for the handle, and Ward realized he was being ushered out.
As the mayor pulled the door wide, Ward put a hand on his shoulder and waited until he looked him in the eyes. “I wasn’t joking, Mayor. If Nevkin gets word that I’m on my way to deal with him, I’ll know who talked.”
The mayor’s eyes widened, and he shook his head frantically, sending his curly, ginger hair dancing. “I swear! Not a word!”
Ward nodded, then stepped out, inhaling deeply of the fresh air; he hadn’t realized how stuffy the little office had gotten while he sat listening to the mayor’s tale. Haley turned toward him and arched an eyebrow, watching as the nervous little man pulled the door closed and slid the bolt home with a solid, final click. “That’s not exactly a friendly face you’re wearing.”
Ward sighed and rubbed Nutmeg’s snout, letting the horse snuffle his palm. “I got the lowdown on why everyone’s acting so freaked out around here.” He nodded to the people hurrying down the street, heads down, only sparing them an occasional glance.
“I imagine it has something to do with Nevkin killing people.”
“Yeah, you’d be right…” Ward told her the mayor’s story while he and Haley continued to give the horses attention, feeding them each an apple and brushing their necks, shoulders, and haunches. The animals fidgeted and nuzzled at their hands. He could tell they wanted their saddles off, but Ward shook his head as he wrapped up the tale, patting Nutmeg on his big muscular shoulder. “Day’s not over yet, buddy.”
“Should we check in at the inn?”
Ward shook his head. “I thought about that, but I don’t think so. A man like Nevkin, on a murderous rampage, putting the fear of God into everyone? There’ll be people in town—cowards or weaklings, mostly—who will want to earn favor with him. The longer we’re hanging around town, showing our faces in busy places like an inn, the greater the chance someone tips him off, and then we’ll be not only dealing with a dangerous man but a dangerous man who’s ready for us.”
“So? Where do we go? Up to Thornlake’s place or this other one, um…” Haley peered at the mayor’s crude map. “The one past the woods here, where Nevkin killed the lord and moved in.”
“Yeah, the Graymane estate. I think that’s where we’ll find him. He’s been looking for Thornlake for two weeks. I doubt he’ll be sitting outside his place at”—Ward looked up at the sky—“noon. Nah, if he’s hunting the guy, he’s probably sneaking around at night. I mean, that’s what I’d do if I wanted to catch someone with their pants down. I’d make sleeping a dangerous proposition.” Ward shrugged.
“So you think Nevkin is probably resting at his ‘home’ right now?” Haley pulled herself up into Wind Queen’s saddle.
Ward followed suit, stuffing his boot into the stirrup and boosting himself into the saddle. “Let’s go find out.” As they made their way back the way they’d come, looking for the trail that would lead off the main road toward a grove of something other than apple trees, Grace made an appearance, grasping Ward’s shoulders as she occupied the saddle behind him.
She leaned close and hissed, “I hope you don’t intend to give him a fair fight. It sounds like he knows a spell that can probably kill you instantly.”
Ward shrugged exaggeratedly, trying to get her hands off his shoulders. They were hot, and the pressure felt good on his tense muscles, and he didn’t like feeling that from her. “Haley, let’s stop when we find the path leading off the road. I need to prepare my spell and enchant my weapons.”
“Good idea.”
“Also,” Ward spoke to Haley but glanced at Grace, frowning, “I wonder if maybe you should hang back. That spell of his sounds dangerous, and, well, I’ve absorbed enough mana where it might not kill me outright. I don’t want to see—”
“Ward! I’m a red adept in the art of Gopah! I’ll not hide from a tongue-waggling, upstart sorcerer!” Haley’s glower contained storm clouds that Ward wasn’t willing to brave, so he shrugged.
“It was just a thought. Grace was the one who was worried, anyway, not—” Grace flicked his ear, and he slapped his hand against it, effectively cuffing himself. “Ow!”
Haley giggled, but it was cut short as she pointed toward a small signpost at the corner of the main road and a narrow, gravel lane. “There’s the path!”