Twelve Ways to Die in Galadore, Volume I Read online

  Twelve Ways to Die in Galadore

  I-III

  Coleman Alexander

  Contents

  I. Moon Lilies

  II. The Long Fall from Darkness

  III. The Serpent of Ennor

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Also by Coleman Alexander

  Part I

  Moon Lilies

  “You’re going to be the death of me,” Jake said, leaning in for a kiss.

  “Good,” Peony murmured with a smile on her lips.

  Her closeness muddled his thoughts, as though some deep-rooted enchantment had wrapped around his mind, overwhelming him. He was enraptured by the soft press of her hands against his chest, enthralled by the scent of her hair and the touch of her body. He would gladly walk to Everdark and back if she asked.

  Distantly, he could hear the singing in the village square, the fiddles and the flutes, the makeshift drums and the drunks, but none of that mattered now.

  “When will I get to see you again?” he asked.

  “Probably never, if you keep this up.” Her lips reached for his as she spoke, keeping him right where he was.

  “Is that right?” His nose filled with the scent of her, rose oil, lavender, and the wood oil of her father's shop that clung to her skin and could never quite be masked. It was on his skin too, and it twined with the ivy and the cedar of the mill, and the lily in her hair from the festival.

  “It is,” she said. Her lips curled into a smile just inches from his own. She punctuated each of her next statements with a kiss. “We’re going to be caught. You’re going to be dead. And my mum won’t let me see the sunshine ever again, like I’m one of those forest-faeries they’re going on about in the village.”

  “The demons?” Jake laughed. “The night-sprites? You certainly are enchanting enough.”

  She tutted, pulling back in mock offense. “Are you saying I’m like those vile creatures of the woods?”

  Jake laughed. “Certainly not. Perhaps an enchantress—but not a night-sprite. More like . . . a lady-last, a fair maiden of the forest who seals a young man’s fate with a single glance.”

  Peony looked straight into his eyes devilishly, seemingly appeased. “And if I were? Wouldn’t that mean you never saw another soul again?”

  “Then I’d die happy.”

  “Well enough,” she answered, kissing him once more.

  Jake was in pure bliss. How many nights had he dreamed of this? How many ways had he imagined escaping with her? He savored the feeling of her body and the soft touch of her lips against his. Nearby, the waterwheel whirled, thumping against the river like his heart hammered in his chest.

  Tut tut tut tut, tut tut tut tut. It went on endlessly.

  But unlike the river, time seemed to still, content to satisfy itself lazily in a thousand small moments. Their lips touched. Their hands roamed. Peony stumbled slightly and Jake steadied her, senses alight with every moment. The wind rustled the nearby cattails. Thick ivy snaked over the sun-warmed bricks, muffling the distant ruckus of the Sunterfest. Twilight lingered, and for a time it seemed the night would never come. But far sooner than he wished, Peony pulled herself away.

  “We’d better go,” she said, her hands resting on his chest. “My mother’s no doubt pitching a fit by now.”

  He held her, reluctant to let go. “But when can I see you again?”

  She cocked her head and grinned. “Tomorrow morning, bright and early. Work won’t wait for the wicked.”

  Jake snorted. “Like your father will let us kiss behind the shop.”

  She shrugged. “He gets so lost in his work, he just might.”

  “Right. But if he did catch us, he’d kill us—or me, rather. . .” Jake shuddered at the thought. “And besides, with that new shipment of staves, he’s going to have me making barrels from now until Winter’s Eve. I doubt he’ll let me up for air, much less to flirt with his daughter.”

  Peony’s grin faded, and she eyed him more seriously. “At least the work will keep you right where you belong.” She cocked her head. “Right?”

  Jake played dumb for a moment, pretending her meaning escaped him.

  “Right?” she said again.

  His feigned ignorance, however, must not have been very convincing because Peony’s smile vanished, and her eyebrows drew sharply together.

  “Tell me you’re not getting mixed up in this nonsense with Martin Skelm. I heard Kenton talking about it, and I worried you’d follow in with whatever cocked-up plan he has.”

  Jake swallowed, doubling down on his act. “About that hunting party that disappeared?”

  “Are you going to tell me you haven’t heard the full tell of it?”

  Jake shrugged. “I heard a bit of it,” he admitted. He had heard the full tell of it, of course. How could he not have? Even as close as they lived to the North Woods, trouble with demons from beyond the realm wasn’t exactly an everyday occurrence, and Kenton wasn’t the only one talking about it. The whole festival was up-in-arms with the news out of Annordale.

  “It’s not just about the hunting party that disappeared. Apparently, Mad Martin is organizing a company to clear out the woods all the way to the Old Marshland fortress.”

  Jake nodded. He had heard that too, of course, and in fact, Kenton had spent all afternoon trying to convince him this was the opportunity of a lifetime: a chance to make a name for himself, a chance to earn a bit of land.

  Jake wasn’t so sure. He’d never been daring sort, and he didn’t particularly like things that were dangerous. But land wasn’t easy to come by. And names were even harder things to earn. He had only really considered it because he thought it might give him a chance to ask Peony’s father for her courtship.

  Peony’s face at the moment had him reconsidering.

  “They say it happened just an hour or so’s walk outside of Annordale. That could be an hour’s walk from here, depending on the direction,” he said.

  “So?”

  “I’m just saying it’s closer than I would like. I think Lord Skelm should clear out the woods if he can.” In truth, he didn’t care one way or the other but he at least wanted to seem valiant.

  Peony’s scowl deepened. “Well leave that to Lord Skelm. You’ve no business getting yourself involved. And neither does Kenton. What do you even know about these demons? Do you have any idea of how dangerous they are?”

  Jake shrugged. Word was that the demons were night-sprites—elf-like creatures of the deep woods, who were said to walk only beneath the starlight and live in hollowed out trees. The wives’ tales said they could enchant night’s creatures and curse a man’s mind with as little as a single thought. But no one really knew. Jim Finkton was going around saying it was a ruse, while Ealor Lester told anyone who would listen he’d seen one at his farmhouse. He claimed that the creature had tried to get inside and had left a scattering of black-tipped arrows when he scared it off. Most agreed that they were dangerous, but how dangerous was beyond him.

  “It’s a worthy cause,” he said weakly.

  “It’s no cause at all,” Peony snapped. “What do you expect, wandering out beyond the realm?”

  Jake didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure how their tryst had gotten here, and while he wanted to say something to appease her, he’d already told Kenton he’d think about it.

  “Well, you’d better not be thinking about it,” Peony said, seeming to read his thoughts.

  Jake just kissed her, hoping to assuage her worries. And in truth, he hadn’t even given it any proper thought. Even with Kenton in his ear all afternoon, he’d been too preoccupied with slipping away from the festival to meet P
eony. If she didn’t want him to go, he wouldn’t. He must’ve hesitated a moment too long because Peony’s face darkened like clouds over a summer sky.

  “Jacob, don’t be a fool.”

  “I’m not,” he said. But even as he spoke, she stepped back, holding him at arm’s-length. Her voice rose sharply and the sweet kisses from a moment before were forgotten.

  “You are a fool! Setting foot beyond the realm’s madness—a sure way to a short life. And trying to root demons from the realmless lands is like trying to chase the stars from the sky. And all for what? To clear out a bit of the marsh?”

  “More like chasing bees from their hive—” Jake said, wanting to seem agreeable in order to get a word in to explain himself.

  “Precisely! Which is why you shouldn’t be going.”

  Jake put his hands up in surrender. He shook his head, trying to pull her back in. “Peony, I’m not going. I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here.” He wasn’t entirely sure it was true but decided, at the moment, it didn’t really matter. His words had the desired effect, as they stopped her tirade long enough for the clouds on her face to still.

  “You’re not?” she said at last, as though she didn’t trust him.

  “No. What sense would there be when I’ve got a good thing going right here?” He kissed her, and slowly, she let him, her body sinking back against his. Jake felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that Kenton would be all over him about this. But that was a concern for another day.

  “You’d better not be,” Peony said at last. “Because the stories they’re spinning back at the festival are preposterous. The whole thing is a farce. Have you heard the rumors?”

  Peony sounded so much like her father that, for a moment, Jake wondered who was talking.

  “About catching one of those demons? Or about those boys who got killed?” he asked.

  Peony’s expression went grim. “About all of it. First off, those boys probably aren’t even dead. It’s more likely they got drunk and couldn’t point the way home. They’ll sober up and come wandering back soon enough. And as far as catching a demon—if they actually did catch one, it’s bound to bring bad luck, especially with the Dark Moon on the rise.”

  Jake withdrew just enough to look at her, wondering if she hadn’t heard the full tell of it.

  “You know they found those boys. Found their heads on spikes out in the West Marshes. That’s what Lon Erickson said.”

  Peony’s eyes widened, but she recovered quickly enough, still managing to purse her lips. “That’s just a rumor. I don’t believe it for a second. Probably one cooked up by Mad Martin himself to get people riled up. He’s always looking to stir the pot.”

  Jake opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it. Half the holding thought Lord Skelm was mad, with Peony’s family among them. What good would it do to argue otherwise? All he really cared about was the fact that they were alone right now, and a moment before they had been kissing. How long had he dreamed of this? And how often did he get to kiss her?

  “Enough about that. I’m not going anywhere,” he said, hoping to draw her back in. She still held him at arm’s-length, face firm.

  “Well, I think it’s preposterous you were even considering it. And the fact that Kenton is going is just as bad. Can you talk him out of it?”

  Jake shrugged, trying to pull her closer again. “You know Kenton. He’s been waiting for an adventure his whole life. . . thinks he’s the next Torren Ironwilled. And word has it Lord Skelm’s promising land. That’s not an easy thing to turn down. . .”

  “Land! Skelm’ll likely be setting them up in the marshes if he gives them anything at all. Tell Kenton he’s a fool.”

  “Alright. Alright,” Jake said, relenting. “I’ll talk to him.”

  Peony’s resistance finally broke and she let him draw her nearer.

  “But when can I see you again?” Jake asked for the third time. This time, he pulled her firmly towards him. They stumbled slightly and he caught her, and at last, some of the playfulness returned to her eyes.

  “You can see me any-old-time if you get the courage to ask my father for a courtship.”

  He raised his eyebrows, surprised by her forthcomingness. They both knew that he was both somewhat reverent and somewhat terrified of her father. It wasn’t likely to happen. Not anytime soon, anyhow. But the clouds finally lifted from her face and Jake couldn’t help but grin at the fact that she’d suggested it. “Maybe I’ll get the courage to ask him.”

  This brought a smile as brilliant as the Bright Moon to Peony’s face, and she finally kissed him again.

  “I’ll be in the market in two days,” she said. “The flowers are all abloom and we’ll make a pretty penny selling them before Garritt’s wedding. I might be able to slip away for a few minutes if I’m lucky.”

  “And if not, looks like I’ll be buying flowers.”

  “Buying flowers for whom, might I ask?”

  “A pretty girl that I fancy.” Jake grinned.

  Peony laughed, thumping his chest. “You can’t buy flowers from me for me.”

  Jake smiled. “Who said they’re for you?”

  She pushed him up against the wall and kissed him. “They’d better be.”

  “Then how in the world do I give you flowers?”

  “You pick them, silly. And they can’t be the same kinds we sell, otherwise I’ll get them confused with the others and accidentally sell them as well. They have to be marvelous. And different.”

  “Like peonies? Where do they grow?”

  She laughed. “In my garden. Nope, you’ll have to do better than that.”

  “I think they are the most marvelous flower in the whole world—the most beautiful, no doubt.”

  She twirled a long strand of hair though her fingertips. “I mean something I’ve never had. Like elvish bellflowers, or moon lilies.” She had a devilish grin as she said this. “Have you ever seen a moon lily? They’re extraordinary. Delightful, really.”

  “They’re just little balls of fluff, aren’t they? The ones that stick to your britches and make an inky mess of anything they touch?” Jake asked, hardly listening while he tried to kiss her. She giggled, so close that he could feel her breath, but she tilted her head just enough to keep him from her lips, driving him mad with desire.

  “That’s in the day.” She leaned back out of reach. “In the day, they’re shy—gentle and unassuming. Sure, they sometimes make a mess of things, but never on purpose.” She kissed him, and he wondered for a moment if she were talking of the flowers or alluding to his incident in her father’s shop the day before.

  “But at night,” she went on, “they are brave and handsome, and they unfurl for the Bright Moon—and only the Bright Moon, as they would do anything for her.”

  “And?” Jake landed a kiss on her cheek, already knowing all this.

  “And they’re beautiful. They’re dark black on the inside—a beautiful velvet black—like no other flower in the world. And they’re speckled red, like blood. But the trouble is, they only come out at night.”

  “And?”

  “And I want one.”

  “Is that it?” Jake asked.

  She nodded, and this time, she kissed him. “Can you get it for me?”

  Jake frowned but he would have jumped into a hive of sprites just to see her look at him like that.

  “Maybe I should join up with Skelm.”

  She laughed again, while Jake silently wondered where he could harvest moon lilies.

  “So let me get this straight: you don’t want me to join up with Skelm because of some demons in the woods, but you want me to go looking for moon lilies? You know where you find them, right?”

  “The woods and the Northwoods are entirely different. There aren’t sprites about your farmhouse.”

  Jake grinned, feeling like he scored a point. Elvish bellflowers would be easy enough, so long as he could find an ash tree growing by a meadow, but moon lilies would be trickier. The onl
y place they seemed to be common was in wives’ tales—where invariably they led to a witch’s hut or a troll’s lair. He looked eastward and saw the moon just cresting over the horizon. Tonight would be as good as any to go looking for them, though he’d never been one to enjoy wandering at night.

  “That would be something. Now, enough of this,” she said, mimicking him. “I’ve got to be getting back; my mother will be wondering where I am. And I likely have to save Hannah from Kenton. She only agreed to this because of me.”

  “So you’re saying this was your idea?”

  Peony’s impish smile returned, and again, Jake felt as though she had him by a spell.

  “It might have been.” She kissed him once more and then pushed away. “Come on.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him after her, but stopped short as they heard a voice from nearby.

  “Have you seen Peony? I thought you were with her.”

  Jake froze, recognizing the voice of Peony’s mother, Mrs. Cooper. A moment later, he heard Peony’s friend Hannah fumbling out a rushed answer.

  “She was just here a moment ago. I think she went to take a look at the watermill.”

  “Shit,” Peony whispered.

  Jake looked around, terrified they would be caught. How would he explain this? Mrs. Cooper would probably forgive him, but if her husband found out, Jake would likely be strung up from the Miller’s Bridge before sundown. The blood in his face seemed to drain right to his feet, anchoring him where he stood. He thought of the most reasonable excuse he could and whispered it to Peony.

  “We were just looking at the watermill,” he suggested. “We were out for a walk and just talking.”

  But Peony wasn’t listening. She quieted him with a finger to his lips, turning her ear. Hannah, who they’d last seen standing morosely with Kenton, was just beyond the hedge, stuttering out another excuse that Jake could only half hear. She sounded panicked.

  “Peony said she just wanted a look at the waterwheel. The mill, I guess. And I decided to wait here. Just figured I would, being a nice evening and all.”