by Paul Barrett
Erick gave a gentle scratch at the cotton batting tickling his neck. He had changed the bandage soon after waking, wincing at the wounds left by the vampire, large and ugly despite the expert stitching by Hara, the midwife. He swallowed, his throat still hot and dry. “If you put it that way, I guess I have no choice.”
“You don’t if you want to learn anything about Fathen. And you can’t yell an apology to Elissia from here.” Blink grinned. “Well, you can, but I doubt she’ll hear you.”
Erick smiled. “Wish me luck of Denech.”
“I always do,” Blink said.
Erick reached the bottom of the hill and walked down the town’s main road, through a cluster of small homes on either side, all plain brown wood but clean. Many had summer flowers in troughs beneath oilskin windows, and several of the doors had the emblem of Caros burned in the center and painted yellow. A large dog covered in shaggy black fur lay on a mat and watched, tail wagging and tongue lolling, as Erick passed.
This time of day, most of the villagers tended to farm duties or other work, so he encountered no one until he spotted
three women scrubbing clothes in a basin and talking. They wore plain brown dresses, and Erick guessed them near his mother’s age. Sweat gathered on their brows from the work and the warm day.
As he drew closer, Erick caught the spring smell of hyacinth from the basin. It again reminded Erick of his mother, and the memory brought a sharp stab of pain and anger at his parents. As Necromancers, the evil that allowed their abilities also kept them from the Heaven of Caros. Unless they could prove to Alakaneth, Shepherd of the Dead, that their benevolence outweighed the taint of their birthright, he would judge them wanting.
By killing themselves, Erick’s parents sealed their fate. Their souls writhed in the Abyss, bereft of any spiritual link to the world they left. Erick lived as the only proof his parents ever existed.
He stopped in the middle of the road as heartache overwhelmed him. They had left him, truly left him, with no chance they would ever be reunited, and he still didn’t know why.
He pushed aside the grief with anger. He’d cried enough. They left him, perhaps because they no longer loved him, maybe because they saw no hope in continuing isolated from the town. Perhaps...any number of reasons unfathomable to Erick. Whatever their motives, Erick refused to let it crush him. They hadn’t considered him in their decision, why should he consider them?
Be strong, Blink said. Stronger than they were.
I am stronger than they were, Erick thought back. He straightened himself and walked toward the women, who had stopped their washing and stared at him. His face grew hot. Great way to make an impression, staggering in the street, he thought.
“Excuse me, ladies,” he said, bowing as his mother had taught him. “Might you tell me where I could find Oren’s house?”
The ladies smiled; one put a hand to her mouth as if suppressing a giggle. The tallest of them said, “You looking for Oren or Oren’s handful?”
Erick didn’t understand the question, so he decided to be more direct. “I’m looking for Elissia.”
The woman holding up her hand wiped at her mouth. “Didn’t take her long, did it?”
The tallest nodded and frowned. “Go down the road just past the temple. That’s the big stone building there. Turn right. Oren’s is the fourth on the left.”
“Is that where Elissia lives?”
“She lives with that scholar’s brat, and a fine pair they make. But her head rests in Oren’s home.”
Erick wondered if he had roamed into a foreign land. The tall woman’s tone made it obvious she cared nothing for Elissia.
“Thank you,” Erick said.
“Youngster,” the woman who hadn’t spoken said. “Thank you for what you did.”
The gratitude surprised Erick. He nodded. “Sorry I didn’t do something sooner.”
“Be careful of the girl,” the tall woman said.
Puzzled at the statement, Erick moved toward the temple of Caros. A flat-roofed building of square stone blocks painted bright yellow; it stood out like a beacon of the God it represented. Easily twice as large as any other building, it had a set of ten stairs, twenty feet wide, that lead up to a portico and double doors plated in bright gold.
As Erick walked past, the doors opened, and five acolytes walked out, dressed in yellow homespun robes. Erick recognized them from the other night, especially the vocal one with the large facial scar. He led the pack, talking and gesturing with his hands as they strolled down the stairs. Erick continued walking.
“Hey, corpse boy,” a voice called. The same voice that had told Brannon to leave Fathen alone.
Erick turned to see the five acolytes approach him. Varying heights and sizes, they had a typical Zakerin appearance, with dark brown hair and tan skin. The one with the scar was the tallest and widest. The ragged blemish ran from his eye to his lip and gave him a sinister countenance, aided by the scowl he wore as he stared at Erick.
The boys, all near Erick’s age, surrounded him. They wore thin silver chains on their necks and wrists, denoting their servitude to the sun god. Erick knew Fathen wore similar emblems, made of gold to signify his priestly status.
The scarred boy glanced around to make sure no one stood near, while the others crossed their arms and tried to appear imposing. The street was empty except for the three women, who kept their attention on their washing.
Apparently satisfied the laundresses wouldn’t interfere, the tall boy poked his finger in Erick’s chest. “I want you to stay away from Elissia. She’s mine. You understand, corpse boy?”
Erick blinked in surprise. He had expected to hear a rant about the evils of Necromancy, not a warning from a jealous suitor.
It surprised him more when he experienced his own twinge of jealousy. He had no hold on Elissia, and no right to be envious of this scarred acolyte. “It was her idea to take care of me, not mine, so you can take that up with her.”
Erick tried to step past the large acolyte, but he shoved Erick back hard enough to knock him into one of his cronies.
“Stay away from her,” the boy growled. “You want to chum with that fey bookworm cousin of hers, fine, but I care for Elissia, and I care what happens to her. She deserves a man steeped in the Sun, not the corruption of Night. I won’t have you debasing her.”
That sounded more like the argument Erick expected. “What if I refuse?”
“Your presence is an offense to all that is holy. A word from me and half the town would be here to strap you down with rocks and drag you into the ocean. You should leave now and stay away.” He grinned, cracked his knuckles, and balled his hands into fists.
Erick thrilled at the prospect of danger. The threat of imminent violence made his heart beat faster. Unlike the outright fear his encounter with the vampire engendered, this was a nervous rush he had never experienced. He found it strangely enjoyable.
Do you need me? Blink asked.
Remind me again why I saved the town.
Because there are also people like Elissia and Corby who live here.
Right. I think I’m okay, but if I start screaming, come quick. Erick looked at the bigger boy. “So now you want me to stay away completely? What’s your name?”
“Keven.”
“Keven, do you know what I do up there in the manor?”
“Yeah. You play with dead people.”
“Probably has sex with them,” one of the acolytes said, and the others snickered. Erick didn’t hide his revulsion at the idea. It surprised him acolytes of Caros would have those dirty thoughts, but he didn’t put it beyond Fathen’s ken to spread such rumors.
Erick appraised Keven and then stared into his brown eyes. “You’re big, but you’re not very bright.” His gaze took in the others. “None of you. I’ve been kept away from town for seventeen years. I’m not going to stay away anymore. And if I wish to speak to Elissia, walk with her, or maybe even kiss her, that will be her choice. Not yours.”
>
Keven’s face grew redder as Erick spoke. He stepped forward and raised his fists.
“Do you plan to kill me?” Erick asked.
The question made Keven pause. For a moment his scarred face grew uncertain, and his hands lowered. “Killing is a sin. We won’t sink to your level of depravity.” He raised his fists again. “But I’m going to beat the hell out of you. I will protect Elissia’s honor.”
“I’ve never killed anyone. Beside the point.” Erick stepped up and put his face inches from Keven’s fists. “Listen well. If you hit me, you’re going to have to kill me. Those ‘corpses’ as you call them, do whatever I tell them. So, I want you to understand something.”
Erick leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “If you ever put a hand on me again, I will have them hunt you down and beat you until you’re near death. If you or any of your gutless sycophants tell anyone in town I just threatened you; I will have them find you and rip off your arms. And if I end up dead and even think you’re responsible, I will come back and tear your throat out with my teeth. Now, do you understand me?”
With each sentence, the disciples’ faces turned paler. A couple of them appeared on the verge of fainting. Despite the fright in his face, Keven held his ground. “We have the protection of Caros, and your foul magic can’t touch us.”
Erick laughed. “What kind of horse dung has Fathen been feeding you? The Necromancers’ powers are sanctified by the Gods. There are six Necromancers left, and there can only be six at a time. Caros can make you by the thousands. So, who do you think he’s going to protect if it comes down to it?”
“Caros will protect us, because we are blessed, whereas you are a necessary evil that the Gods were coerced into accepting.”
Erick couldn’t fault Keven’s bravery, even as he marveled at his idiocy.
Back to that thin line again, Blink thought.
“Let’s put that to the test,” Erick said. “I’ll summon an undead now, and we’ll see how long the five of you last.”
That got through to the large boy. His face drained of color. “You can do that?”
“Of course,” Erick said. He moved his hand in an intricate and useless gesture. “You’ve seen my power in action. So I’ll use mine, you use yours, and we’ll see who comes out still alive.” He pointed at the ground. “Rise, my pets.”
The air chose that moment to stir into a slight breeze, sending a cloud of dust dancing down the street. Erick could only imagine what Keven and the other acolytes thought they witnessed as they turned and fled up the temple steps. Their robes flapped behind them, the thin material as flimsy as their faith.
“I’m glad we’ve been able to reach an understanding,” Erick shouted after them.
Rise, my pets? Blink thought.
I figured it needed to be dramatic, Erick thought back.
Could you really come back from the dead?
Of course not. Erick remembered his father and his mood soured. Well, not in any way I’d want to.
Was it a good idea to threaten them? Blink asked.
I don’t care. They can ignore me, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let them push me around.
Erick continued walking, turning right at the temple as instructed.
This road narrowed down from the main road, large enough for little more than an oversized cart. The temple dominated the right side and wooden houses the left. A few gulls tottered in the street, picking tidbits off the ground.
As he walked toward Elissia’s house, Erick pondered his encounter with Keven. It amused him to realize Keven viewed him as a rival for Elissia’s affections. He was certainly interested in Elissia, but what did he have to offer her? He was a Necromancer, shunned, a social outcast, with no friends but the non-living, whereas Keven was an acolyte of Caros, well-respected and assured of position in the town.
Elissia cared for him only as a return favor for his rescue of Corby. Now that he had healed she would return to her life, being, at most, a newfound friend. Keven had nothing to fear from him.
That’s no way to think, Blink thought. He should fear you. If you’re interested in Elissia, fight for her.
Maybe, Erick thought back. Let’s see if she still even wants to see me. Then I’ll think about the rest. If Elissia no longer wanted to speak to him, perhaps he could find a way to meet other girls in the village, although he suspected they would be hard-pressed to match Elissia’s courage or beauty. Corby had never talked about anyone but Elissia, but Erick assumed others existed.
He counted four houses and found Elissia’s. It resembled the houses around it, with the sunburst symbol of Caros burned and painted into the door. A sturdy, large-bellied woman stood outside the doorway. She shook a dark blue rug. The rug gave a sharp cracking sound as dirt puffed from it in a small cloud. A red kerchief held back her graying hair like a streak of blood splashed on ashes. A momentary shudder ran through Erick, and he touched the bandage on his neck.
“Hello,” he said. She stopped cleaning and stared at him. “Is this where Elissia lives?”
“Yes,” the woman said, voice deep and throaty.
“You must be her aunt. I’m Erick. Thank you for letting Elissia care for me.”
“Don’t thank me,” the woman growled, giving him a baleful stare over her large bosom. “I would have let you die--and good riddance. But Elissia had other ideas, and she has my husband wrapped around her manipulative little finger. Thank her.”
Taken aback by the woman’s spite, Erick didn’t know how to respond.
“Who are you talking to?” Elissia asked from inside the house. She walked up next to her aunt and saw Erick. “Oh, it’s you.” She stared at him.
This whole outing had become a disaster. He fought down a momentary urge to flee back to the manor. “I upset you yesterday. I wanted to apologize.”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s right, she’s fine,” Beatru told him. “So you can go about your business and leave her better off.”
“I can handle this, Aunt Beatru,” Elissia said.
Beatru gave him a last glare and went inside the house. Elissia stepped out and closed the door. “Don’t let her bother you. She doesn’t trust you. But she doesn’t trust me either, so I wouldn’t put too much weight on her opinion.”
Erick nodded. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I think you may have been right, but I didn’t want to hear it.”
Elissia stared up at the sky. “I’d like...well, I want to apologize too. What I said about your father was unfair.” She paused, and then looked at him. “But I still think it wasn’t necessarily wrong.”
“I think it is wrong. Blink and I talked about it. Fathen has been lying to everybody.”
I wouldn’t say that with so much conviction, Blink thought. We only suspect it.
Elissia’s lips pursed and brows bunched, creating a delicate dimple just above the bridge of her nose. After a moment, those dark brows rose. “I’d keep that to myself if I were you, but you may be right. Fathen has always struck me as a duplicitous son of a bitch, and I know a thing or two about those.” Her eyes narrowed. “You want to find out, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Be careful who you talk to and how you ask questions. From the gossip I’ve picked up, a lot of the town seems willing to accept you, or at least doesn’t care. But Fathen still has several people convinced you need to be chased out, my aunt not the least of them.”
“That’s another reason I wanted to talk to you. I was hoping you and Corby could help me since you know people better than I do. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
Her lips pursed again; an expression Erick found incredibly attractive. After a moment, she shrugged. “We’re not that well-liked in town either, so that makes it a challenge. But Caros knows there’s little of that in this backwater. I’ll talk to Corby. We’ll come up to your manor and figure out a plan. Wait for us there.”
“Thank you,” Erick said. “Oh, I won’t interfere with you and Keven, i
f that’s what you want.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Keven told me you’re his. That’s fine; I won’t interfere. Not that I could have anyway.” He stared at the ground. He wanted to interfere. He wanted to prove himself better than Keven, but he had no idea how.
“He is handsome,” Elissia said. “That scar gives him a roguish demeanor. And his father owns a large portion of land. But it’s not like we’re betrothed. Occasionally a girl wants more than land and looks.”
Erick turned from his study of the dirt to find Elissia’s white teeth gleaming against her olive skin.
“I’m not his. Not yet.” She reached out and hugged him.
Stunned, Erick didn’t move. Her breasts pressed against his chest and his breath caught in his throat. She smelled of cinnamon and cloves, and her hair tickled his chin. He thought he might fly apart from the sensations bounding through his body.
Far too soon for Erick, she pulled back. He knew from the heat in his face that he must resemble a cherry, and he was thankful he had worn loose-fitting breeches.
“You smell very nice. I’ll talk to you later.” She gave him a wink and walked back into the house. Erick turned and headed toward the edge of town, mind whirling as the hug gamboled through his body.
Elissia stood at the door and listened to Erick walk away. He had already fallen for her harder than she could have hoped. As soon as she saw his downcast pout, it came clear to her. She had no interest in Keven, a complete horse’s ass so far up Fathen’s backside she wondered he could breathe. But letting Erick think such interest existed worked to her benefit. She could hint that the best way to garner her attention was to remove her from Keven’s influence. Keven had too many ties to Draymed to leave it, but if Erick accompanied her to her home on the mainland, they could get to know each other better.
She wouldn’t promise anything, but she would be grateful to her escort. Very grateful. Erick’s mind would gladly fill in the implication. At that point, getting him to leave would be as easy as teaching fish to swim. She could return to Marcus sooner than she ever hoped and start plotting revenge on her father. It was a great plan.
