Page 1 of Prince of Shadow and Ash
Chapter 1
THIS QUEST FOR A MARSHflower would be easier without the hulking black armor and oversized black sword.
Regulus tried to stretch his neck, but his helm and the bulky pauldrons impeded the movement. Curse the sorcerer and his driving, inexplicable need for theatricality. At least Regulus had the more practical hunting knife across his lower back.
Not as if he needed the heavy armor, anyway. The sorcery inside him kept him alive, and without the armor, his progress would have been faster. With an agitated groan, he gripped his helm by its decorative metal horns and removed it. Instead of the usual relief of fresh air on his face, humidity clung to his skin.
The marsh stank like rotting carcasses. His damp hair stuck to his forehead and neck and the sweat made the old scar that traced across his right cheek through the corner of his mouth to his chin itch. He turned his head, working out the tension in his neck and scanning for potential enemies. Muddy water—or maybe it was watery mud—stretched in every direction, broken up with patches of marsh grass, green-tipped cattails, and tangled briars. Fog drifted over everything, diluting the sunlight into a drab gray and providing cover for any lurking beasts.
Regulus had grown up near the Forbidden Marsh, and he’d heard all the stories. Stories of people who entered and never came out. Tales of screams carried on the wind that rustled the cattails. Rumors claimed monsters lurked in the Marsh. Human-hating centaurs, devious fairies, even the last of the redclaws—gaunt, tall, pale creatures with strange long limbs and six-inch-long claws stained permanently red by the blood of their victims.
He had dismissed them as tall tales, designed to frighten children into compliance. That was, after all, how his cruel childhood guardian had used the Marsh and its monsters. As a threat. But now, with the marsh grasses and cattails rasping around him and the unnatural gray mist, his nerves were on edge.
And yet, after over an hour of wandering wild, untamed growth and solid-looking moss that gave way beneath his boots, he had found nothing. Not a single monster, and no sign of the magical flower he hunted. He pulled the drawing of the starshade plant out of his belt and studied it. A short black plant with thick stalks and small black flowers that the sorcerer said should glow blue.
He refolded the parchment, pulled the helm back on, and trudged onward. The black helm had wide slanted rectangles for eye openings and fine holes to allow airflow over the mouth. Two long, thick horns curved from the top like the horns of a bull. His master got some twisted pleasure out of scaring anyone Regulus might encounter on his missions. He would have left it off, but he needed his hands free to draw his sword.
As he continued his search, the desolation of the marsh seemed ominous. As if something out there watched him, unseen in the gray haze. The muck of the marsh squelched under his boots. Each footstep sounded like a blade being pulled from a wound.
He shook his head. Maybe monsters prowled the Marsh, maybe they didn’t. He had no reason to fear monsters. He was one of them. All that mattered was finding the flower as commanded and getting back home.
Home.Regulus smiled. Poor Harold would faint when he saw the state of the armor.The boy had adjusted well from the life of mercenary baggage boy to squire. Better than Regulus had adjusted to the life of a lord. His smile faded.Harold is a far more loyal and dedicated squire than a slave like me deserves.
The sharp snap of a breaking twig interrupted his thoughts. He drew his sword, turning slowly. The ebony-black blade glinted. The four-foot-long blade was nearly as wide as his palm at the cross-guard and narrowed down to a sharp point. He surveyed the marsh grasses and brush. Nothing. To his right, he heard what sounded like...muttering?
Regulus spun to face a dense stand of marsh grass. The grass mumbled in a quiet, scratchy voice, “Smells like venison. Venison is tasty, yes.”
“Who’s there?”
With a squeal like an injured piglet, a pale green hobgoblin with a long pointy chin and nose, wearing what looked like dead vines as clothes, leapt up at him. Cursing, Regulus swung his sword, but the hobgoblin was too small, maybe as long as Regulus’ forearm from its webbed toes to the mossy-looking hair on its head. The creature grabbed onto his breastplate and scrambled around.
“Get off!” He swatted at the hobgoblin with his right hand, still awkwardly holding his sword in the other. The menace scurried down to Regulus’ right hip, toward the satchel looped onto his belt, muttering about venison.
“Don’t you dare!” He seized the vines around its torso. The hobgoblin screamed and flailed. Regulus tried to throw it away, but it grabbed onto his gauntlet with unexpected strength. The vines in his hand broke, and the creature jumped onto his side again.
With an irritated growl, Regulus drew his hunting knife. The hobgoblin yanked on his satchel and gnawed on the loops, trying to free it. Regulus stabbed at the creature, but it moved as if it sensed the knife coming. The blade glanced across Regulus’ armor and sliced through part of his satchel.
The hobgoblin grunted as it tugged, and the fabric ripped. Dried venison and an apple went flying. The hobgoblin hooted in victory, catching most of the meat midair. Desperate, Regulus swung his arms, trying to catch the green-skinned menace. To his surprise, it worked. But now he had an angry hobgoblin pinned between his chest and forearms and a weapon in each hand.Idiot. At least his men weren’t there to witness his humiliation.
The hobgoblin screamed and wiggled, and Regulus realized he didn’t have any other options. He dropped his arms, and the little beast scampered off with a gleeful squeal. Regulus sheathed his dagger and his sword and checked his torn satchel. Empty. He groaned and looked around his feet, but the mud had swallowed any food the hobgoblin hadn’t stolen.
He kicked at the muck then grabbed for the parchment at his belt. Gone. He cursed. Well, he had looked at it a dozen times, he didn’t need it. Besides, there couldn’t be that many glowing flowers. He checked the water horn on his left side—at least that was still there. Nothing to do but press on.
The thick clouds made judging the passing time difficult. Why did the sorcerer send him, anyway? He could probably use some spell to lead him right to the stupid plants.And Iknowhe could hover over this filth.
A faint blue shine on the other side of a tangled mass of briars caught his eye. Hope sparked as he cut his way into a small clearing. A ring of sludge surrounded a raised patch of grass-covered ground, no more than two paces wide. And interspersed over the miniature island—starshade plants. Relieved, Regulus drew his knife and knelt next to the nearest plant.
After digging up ten of the plants to collect their roots, he tied them together using strips of fabric from his ripped satchel. He tied the roots to his belt and stood. Now to find his way back out of the marsh.
An hour later, he trudged on, lost and starving.Is anything in this Etiros-forsaken marsh edible?A bramble bush covered in juicy-looking red berries drew his attention. He scrambled for them, then stopped. They could be poisonous.Can poison kill me?He shrugged. What did it matter? Dresden would scold him for such thoughts—but Dresden wouldn’t know.
He picked a berry and tossed it in his mouth. It tasted tart yet sweet, and not bad. He ate berries as quickly as his gloved hands allowed. Once he had eaten several handfuls, he took a long drink of water from his horn and looked around.
The marsh stretched on forever. The large standing stones that marked the entrance and where he had left his horse were nowhere to be seen. He squinted at the sun, trying to judge the time and the direction he needed to go. Finally, he decided it must be around two in the afternoon.Based on that, I need to go...He turned to his left and pointed at nothing.That way.
Before long, he felt a painful twinge in his stomach. Then another. His gut twisted violently, and his vision blacked out. He blinked and stumbled forward as his eyes cleared, wrestling his helm off and dropping it into the muck. Pain wracked his body and heat radiated from his stomach. He fell onto all fours and vomited.
Red marsh berries: poisonous.
