“This is a dirk. When you battle with an orc shaman’s demon in the sky, you need a blade long enough to do some damage, but with enough speed and maneuverability to defend yourself from all sides; an attack can come from any angle. This is the perfect compromise. For a young boy like you, it will do just fine.”
She mounted Hubertus as he gazed at his weapon. It was an expensive piece, beautiful in its design and sharp enough to shave with. He wondered at Elizabeth’s generosity. Nobody had ever given him anything before—and he definitely had never owned something so precious.
He only realized she was leaving when he felt the breeze from Hubertus’s wing beats against his face.
“There is greatness in you, Arcturus,” Elizabeth called, her voice almost snatched away by the wind. “Remember what I told you!”
Arcturus watched until she faded into the darkness of the sky, wishing he had thanked her.
Then he set his jaw and turned to the double doors.
“Well,” he said, laying his hand on the box beside him. “Let’s get started.”
CHAPTER
5
ARCTURUS STABBED HIS DIRK into the crack on the edge of the box and heaved. The wood creaked under the strain, then the nails gave way and the lid crashed to the ground.
There was a low growl from inside, before Sacharissa bounded out. Her fur stood on end and she snarled, spinning in a circle to scope out her surroundings. It was only when she saw Arcturus that she calmed, snuffling at his feet before lapping his hand with a rough, wet tongue.
“It’s okay, Sacha. The Favershams won’t hurt us here. Not if I can help it.” Arcturus brandished his dirk so she could see the blade, then slipped it back into the scabbard on his boot.
A cloud drifted across the moon, casting the courtyard in a shroud of darkness. Arcturus could barely make out the doors, but he stumbled up the stairs regardless, his hands outstretched in front of him. Sacharissa followed behind, bumping against his shins in her attempts to keep close by.
Before he could knock on the doors, they swung open unexpectedly. The inside was brightly lit and he shielded his eyes as a figure stepped out brandishing a torch. Arcturus gaped when his eyes adjusted to the glare. It was a dwarf.
Of course, Arcturus had heard of the dwarves, though they were rarely seen in the north of Hominum, where he had grown up. This one appeared almost exactly as he had imagined, standing as tall as his midriff. The dwarf was stockily built, as all his people were, with long red hair kept in a ponytail and a braided mustache and beard. He wore a simple servant’s uniform, plain green with a red sash around the middle.
“Welcome to Vocans, my lord,” the dwarf said in a deep, respectful voice. “Please, come in out of the cold.”
Arcturus did as he asked, speechless. Sacharissa gave the dwarf a suspicious sniff before entering, then sat protectively beside Arcturus.
“I see you already have a Canid. A fine specimen, if you don’t mind me saying so.” The dwarf held out a thick, callused finger for the demon to sniff. Sacharissa snorted disdainfully and flicked her tail, then walked farther into the castle.
The room they were in was an enormous hall, with identical winding staircases on either side. They stopped at intervals on five levels, each one complete with a long balcony bordered by gilded metal railings. The ceiling was supported by giant oak beams, and Arcturus could see a dome of glass in the very center that would allow natural light to illuminate the room in the daytime. All around the walls were ensconced torches, casting pools of flickering light that made the marble floor look like shifting water.
“We call it the atrium. Beautiful, isn’t it?” the dwarf said proudly.
“It is,” Arcturus breathed. At the very end of the hall, there was another set of doors, just as large as those behind him. But it was the archway above that took his breath away, for it was intricately carved with the twisting figures of a hundred or more demons. Their eyes were set with a myriad of glittering jewels, and the shifting shadows of the torchlight made it appear as if the creatures were alive. He tried to spot a Canid like Sacharissa among them, but it was near impossible, given the countless species that danced along the stonework.
“Come with me, my lord. I have to take you to your quarters. Most of the other nobles are sleeping, but you’ll get a chance to meet them in the morning. Do you have baggage?” the dwarf asked.
“No baggage,” Arcturus said, spinning to show the dwarf his rucksack. “But hang on, I’m not a—”
“Follow me,” the dwarf interrupted before he could finish. “And keep your demon quiet if you please; we wouldn’t want to wake anyone.”
The dwarf led him up the east staircase, holding the torch aloft to light their way. They continued to the top floor, though Arcturus caught tantalizing glimpses of tapestries and paintings as they passed each level. He was disappointed to find the walls relatively bare when they finally left the staircase and made their way down a long corridor, but was fascinated by the suits of armor that lined the way. The occasional crumpled breastplate or crushed helmet revealed that they had once seen battle, and he realized with a gulp that he might someday face the creatures that had broken them. Sacharissa sensed his fear and began to whine, but he settled her with a scratch behind the ears.
Once or twice he saw orcish javelins and arrowheads, preserved on velvet cushions behind glass cabinets, but the dwarf walked surprisingly fast for one with such short legs, and Arcturus could not pause to examine them further. After what seemed an age, the dwarf stopped by a door and pushed it open.
“I will let the provost know you have arrived. Your uniform is on the bed, although I know most of you like to have a tailor make a fresh one. Still, it’s there if you need it. If you need anything else, ask for me, Ulfr. I’ll do my best to assist you.” Before Arcturus could open his mouth, Ulfr had ushered him inside and closed the door behind him.
The room was enormous, almost the size of the stable Arcturus had worked in, with high ceilings and a chandelier lit by a ring of thin candles. The walls were lined with awnings of red and gold, and the carpet beneath his feet was a deep, white shag that Sacharissa immediately began to roll around on, rubbing her back against the fabric.
The bed was a king-sized four-poster, with a mattress so thick and plush that it would be difficult to climb into. Arcturus wasted no time in diving across it, reveling in the springy bounce and the silky satin sheets.
“Up you come, Sacharissa. There’s room for both of us,” Arcturus laughed, patting the space beside him. Sacharissa yapped with excitement, bounding onto the bed in one fluid leap. Her feet caught in the uniform at the foot of the bed, and Arcturus untangled it and held it up for them to inspect.
“Fancy,” Arcturus said. The jacket was double-breasted, made from a deep blue velvet and held in place by shining gold buttons. It looked too showy to be a military uniform, but then, Arcturus was no expert and Elizabeth’s clothing had been just as ornate. He let his feet dangle off the side of the bed and undressed, before shrugging on the uniform. He was pleasantly surprised to find that it fit him well and the material was as soft as the bedsheets he sat on.
“I could get used to this,” he murmured, rubbing Sacharissa under the chin. Life wasn’t so bad after all.
The echo of footsteps from outside disturbed his thoughts; then the door slammed open. This time, it wasn’t a dwarf.
A man stood in the doorway, so tall and brawny that he had to stoop to enter. He was resplendent in the red uniform of a general, with tasseled epaulets on his shoulders and rows of medals pinned to his chest. His hair was made up of blond curls, which tumbled across his shoulders in an aureate mane. The man was smiling when he stepped into the room, but as soon as he laid eyes on Arcturus he froze. His face was handsome, with chiseled features and a square jaw, but it turned ugly as it twisted into a furious scowl.
“Ulfr!” the man bellowed, balling his hands into fists. “Come here, immediately.”