A Whisper of Death

by Paul Barrett

  Erick stared at the priest, flummoxed. He wanted to believe the priest’s offer of aid, but he couldn’t completely accept the sudden conversion. Fathen seemed almost too humble, too willing to help after so many years of contempt. Perhaps Caros had changed the priest’s heart, but Erick wasn’t convinced. Blink, what do you think?

  He seems sincere, Blink thought, but who knows? Something beat the hells out of him, that’s certain.

  “What did you do with the prisoner after you interrogated him?”

  “He was left in the guardhouse. I delivered a message to the authorities in Keyport, and they assured me guards would be sent to escort him to Keystone’s prison. But perhaps he was killed. Please tell me about Draymed. What happened?”

  “What truly happened, I can’t tell you,” Erick said. “I can only tell you my vision.” Erick related his dream to the priest, offering every detail he could remember. In the course of the tale, Gabrielle finished tending Fathen’s wounds and stood listening, eyes widening in growing horror as the story unfolded.

  The others also listened, and Erick wondered what went through their minds on this second telling. Were they reassessing Erick’s guilt, reconsidering the extent of his crime? Would Elissia and Corby’s forgiveness be taken back?

  When Erick finished, Fathen remained silent, digesting the story. To his surprise, a glimmer of remorse lodged into his heart, a sliver of regret at the town’s death. Until now, he never actually thought Na-Talva could accomplish the task Eligos set for him. How could one man obliterate a town of two hundred? Had he appealed to Keven, Fathen’s favorite acolyte, to help? Or did he now lay dead like the other acolytes, always so eager to do his bidding and follow the words of Caros?

  The faces of those acolytes came to him, along with many others. The widow Onora, who always had a favorable word on his visits, and sometimes more if she felt especially lonely. Elissia’s aunt Beatru, who respected him as a faithful and wise man of the cloth. All gone, murdered and reduced to ashes. Calligan’s face appeared again, this time burning and blistering.

  Leave me be, Fathen thought. All the sacrifices wouldn’t matter when Erick lay dead, and Eligos came to power, taking Fathen as his trusted advisor and priest. He had told Erick the truth. The past was gone. The old Fathen of Draymed had been burned away, not by the holy light of Caros, but the dark truth of Eligos. “I don’t know what to say, except that I will pray for their souls.”

  Silence reigned among the group, leaving the night to the crackling fire and the chirruping insects. Gabrielle moved away from Fathen and sat beside Elissia.

  Finally, Marcus spoke. “What about the bandits. Think we’ll see them?”

  “There were five of them, and they came from the direction of the mountains,” Fathen told him. “I guess they marked me as an easy target, a man alone with only a sword, so they jumped me in the dark, beat me, then took everything but my clothes.”

  Corby suddenly jumped up. “Excuse me,” he said, and ran down the road, disappearing into the darkness.

  “Corby!” Elissia yelled, but he didn’t turn back.

  “What’s going on?” Marcus asked, watching with a bewildered expression as Corby fled.

  “He’s upset,” Erick said.

  “Obviously. About what?”

  “Me, most likely.” Erick stared into the darkness. “I’d better go talk to him.” He stood and walked down the road, his back to the group.

  Fathen watched Erick leave, pleased at his skill in making the hated boy accept him. Elissia frowned at him. He smiled, but she turned and walked into her tent. His smile faltered. She wasn’t convinced. He would have to watch her, since she would certainly be watching him.

  “I’m here,” Corby said from behind Erick. The thin clouds obscured the light of Talan’s Lantern, transforming the landscape into a dim void.

  Startled, Erick turned. The scholar sat with his back to the road, staring at the tall grass. Erick walked over and sat beside him, while Corby wiped at his eyes.

  Neither spoke for a long time, Erick unsure what he could offer other than useless apologies.

  Finally, Corby cleared his throat and said, “The people in Draymed died because of me and a boy named Quinn, not you.”

  Erick stared at Corby, stunned beyond speech. How in the name of Caros had the scholar come to that conclusion?

  Corby continued in a toneless voice, his eyes dry. “The man who destroyed everyone was a demon sent to punish our families for our sin. But demons can’t be controlled and once they start killing, they can’t stop, so the whole town died.”

  Erick started to speak, but the words poured from Corby. “I thought by leaving and getting away from Quinn I could spare them and stop, but then I boarded ship and found Murrough, and I couldn’t control myself, and the demon punished my family anyway. It had to be a demon. Why would a man you let live go out of his way to destroy an entire town? It’s divine retribution. It’s-”

  The scholar seemed close to hysteria. His voice had risen, his tone growing more frantic. Erick reached over and grabbed Corby’s arms.

  “Stop it,” he said, shaking him. “You’re not making sense. The man was a hired killer who destroyed Draymed because it was my home. He wasn’t a demon.”

  “But he was. A demon sent to punish us.”

  “For what?”

  “For what Quinn and I did.”

  “What did you do?” Erick asked, holding back the urge to scream at his friend.

  “We loved each other,” Corby said. He dropped his face into his hands and tears poured. “Caros help us, but we loved each other. Quinn’s mother caught us. She wouldn’t let us get dressed, but made us sit in the shed until Quinn’s father returned from the blacksmith shop. They never yelled, but they told us we could not do such a terrible thing again. If we did, a demon would come to murder them and my parents and devour their souls. They told us in great detail how they would be murdered. I never thought I would see Quinn cry, but when his parents finished, we were curled into corners sobbing like babies. Like I am now.” Corby wiped at his tear-covered face in disgust.

  “They left us alone in the barn, and we dressed, promising never to do such things again. Quinn’s parents said no more about it, to us or anyone else. I guess they thought their talk worked. And it did for two weeks, but then we were together again, even though it terrified us. I prayed to Caros every night to protect my family, telling him that if a demon had to kill anyone, let it kill me. We were terrified, but we couldn’t stop.”

  Corby paused and forced himself to regain his composure. He dried his eyes. “When you said you were leaving Draymed, I saw my chance. I came with you because you are my friend, but also because I thought I could stop my sins and protect my family. I didn’t even say goodbye to Quinn because I knew he would try to stop me. On the ship I made you promise to like me no matter what, but I won’t hold you to it. If you want me to leave, I will.”

  Corby put his head down on his knees. Erick sat beside him, uncertain what to say. Emotions whirled through his mind, foremost amazement that Corby had somehow come to blame himself for Draymed’s destruction.

  “The man was no demon,” Erick said again. “Draymed died because of me, because I lied and because my father summoned Eligos. I have to atone for those sins, which I hope to do by destroying the Master of Shadows.”

  “But I’ve sinned,” Corby said, his voice cracking again. “I’ve sinned, and I’m going to burn in the Festering Hells, and Quinn is too.”

  Erick thought back to Elissia’s words. “I think Quinn’s parents were wrong. The gods and demons don’t care who we love; only other people care about that. Quinn’s parents were afraid, and they wanted you to be afraid.”

  “Do you think it’s wrong?”

  “I don’t think it’s a sin, not anymore.”

  “But do you think it’s wrong?” Corby asked.

  “What does it matter?”

  “Because you’re my friend and I want you to think w
ell of me.”

  Another long silence followed, then Erick said. “I know it’s wrong for me, but I can’t say what’s right for other people. Only Alakanath judges.”

  “Are we still friends?”

  “Yes,” Erick answered. “We will always be friends. You were willing to die for me. What sort of person would I be if I turned away from you now?”

  “Thank you.” Corby reached out and hugged Erick. He drew back when Erick tensed. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Erick put his hand on Corby’s shoulders. “You just surprised me.” Erick smiled, and Corby smiled back.

  Erick, where are you?

  Erick looked toward the still glowing fire. About three hundred feet from camp. Why?

  You need to get back here. Marcus says unfriendly people are heading our way.

  Be right there. “We need to go,” he told Corby, standing up. “Blink said there might be trouble.”

  Corby stood up beside him. “Please don’t say anything to anybody else. I’ll tell them eventually, but I still have some thinking to do.”

  “I won’t break a silence,” Erick said.

  They arrived to find the others gathered to one side of the fire. Despite the urgency in Blink’s thoughts, everyone seemed surprisingly calm. Only Gabrielle appeared nervous, but Erick suspected that might be her normal condition.

  As they arrived, Marcus said, “I did a quick scout and found twelve sword arms heading this way bent on nastiness. They’re trying to be quiet, but they suck at it.”

  “Twelve? From the town?” Erick asked

  “Doubt it. They’re coming from the wrong way.”

  “More Fist members, then,” Erick said. “I hope to Caros they’re not all Eligoi. Blink, take off and spot them for me.” As Blink took to the air, Erick asked Elissia, “What do we do?”

  Before she could speak, Gabrielle said, “Can’t you make some creatures to chase them away?” Her voice trembled.

  Erick shook his head. “I need a dead body for that.”

  Blink located the approaching men and sent the information to Erick. He judged their attackers to be still over a thousand feet out, crawling slowly through the tall grass to avoid detection, unaware they had already been discovered.

  “Almost two to one odds,” Elissia said. “And none of us with real combat experience.” She shook her head. “This isn’t good.”

  “We need a more defensible position,” Corby said, trying to scan the nearby mountains through the darkness.

  “Guess we should have thought of that before we set up camp,” Marcus said.

  Corby nodded. “I wish the clouds would break and give us some light.”

  “If wishes were coins, thieves could retire,” Marcus muttered.

  “What would you do if you had a dead body?” Fathen asked.

  “I could reanimate it, and it could fight for us.”

  A few of the men glanced up, perhaps hearing the flutter of Blink’s wings, but they could not see him against the night sky. Try and be quieter, he thought as his hand went to his knife.

  I’ll try, Blink thought, his mental voice tense, but I have to flap occasionally.

  “We can get you a body,” Elissia said. “You up for it?” she asked Marcus.

  “I guess,” Marcus said. His hands twitched as his eyes darted over the grass. “I wish there were some alleys out here, though.”

  “If wishes were coins,” Elissia reminded him. “Come on, it’ll be just like old times,” she boasted with all the air of a grizzled veteran, instead of a young girl.

  “What are you doing?” Erick said. The idea of Elissia leaving his direct sight frightened him more than the imminent attack.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, giving him a light kiss on the cheek as she drew one of her daggers. “You trained to save the world; this is what I trained to do.”

  Corby touched Marcus’s arm. “Be careful.”

  Marcus smiled at the scholar. “Never anything but,” he said, giving the other boy a wink.

  The two thieves ran into the darkness, making no sound as they disappeared into the field.

  As the others waited in anxious expectation, Erick focused his entire attention on observing through Blink’s eyes. He watched, body filled with tension, as Marcus and Elissia spread out with speed and stealth, moving like a well-coordinated pair of hunting animals. Even using Blink’s exceptional vision, Erick had trouble seeing his companions when they crouched low and slowly advanced on the unsuspecting attackers.

  In a flash, it was over. Marcus dashed in from one side, then dashed away with Elissia following; the man stopped moving. Erick shuddered at the brutal efficiency of it. “They got one,” he told the others.

  Glad they’re on our side, Blink thought.

  The twins paused, making sure their victim didn’t move. They moved back in, Elissia at the man’s head and Marcus at his feet. Erick noticed they had picked one of the smaller fighters, but even so, they had trouble lifting the man. Erick couldn’t imagine how they were going to get him back without alerting the other attackers.

  In the distance, an animal Erick didn’t recognize let out a series of short barks.

  “I should go help them,” Erick said.

  “Don’t,” Corby said. “They know what they’re doing, and you’ll only make noise and alert the rest.”

  Erick nodded. He desperately wanted to go, certain they wouldn’t make it back, but the wisdom in Corby’s words kept him anchored. He busied himself by opening his case and getting the few ingredients ready he would need to reanimate the newly-dead attacker.

  By the time he had everything ready, Marcus and Elissa were still a hundred feet out with their burden, but had managed to remain silent and not alert their opponents, who were still five hundred feet away and approaching slowly.

  The plan might actually work.

  Marcus suddenly let out a high-pitched keen of fear. He dropped his half of the body, which tore it from Elissia’s hand. Pulling his knife, Marcus swung viciously at something on the ground.

  Like voles popping out of hiding, the men stood up, shadows in the dim light. “Attack!” one of them shouted.

  29

  Although the fall of Broken Mountain revealed great veins of gold and precious gems, it was hundreds of years before the Camp (as the miners call it) came to exist. Before that, people avoided the mountain and the Ruins around it, complaining of nausea if they approached too close. It seemed that animals also remained away for a long time.

  -Corberin of Draymed, The History of Prospector’s Camp

  The cloud cover broke, and the moon shone down upon the road, brightening the area. “Got my wish,” Corby said as he readied his staff. Fathen drew his sword.

  Erick pulled his knife, grabbed his ingredients, and ran toward where Marcus flailed at the ground. Elissia turned to face the attackers.

  “Marcus, it’s dead,” Elissia screamed. “Let’s go.”

  Marcus quit swinging at the ground, his breath coming in harsh gasps. As Erick drew near, he saw a sinuous black tube on the ground. A snake.

  “How long will it take you?” Elissia asked.

  “Not long,” Erick said as he knelt by the dead man.

  “There he is,” someone yelled. Several men stared toward Erick. They charged.

  “Come on, Mar,” Elissia said. She and Marcus ran to meet the crowd.

  Blink, help them! Erick thought, his mouth suddenly dry.

  Okay.

  Trying his best to ignore the noises of battle around him, and refusing to wonder how his friends fared, Erick spread dried burdock leaves over the two knife wounds, then a handful of motherwort stem went into the man’s mouth. He sliced his thumb over the dead man’s mouth. The blood soaked into the motherwort.

  Erick prepared to recite the incantation when movement caught his eye. A man advanced with his sword held low. Erick grabbed at his knife, knowing it would be useless.

  Corby and Fathen blindsided the fighter, s
lamming into him with their shoulders. He fell to the ground but retained his weapon. They pressed their advantage, swinging wildly as the man rolled on the ground, blocking and dodging their blows.

  Erick’s ignored the parchment feeling in his mouth. He had to get the quana up and fighting. “Mucalz col cnila phamah allar soygha. Alakanath, amde sibsu, dluga mucalz deteloc pham allar soygha. Krinnik, amde sibsu, dluga mucalz decalz ar anoan allar soygha. Denech, amde sibsu, drix aldor mucalz od cnila de allar soygha.”

  The whispery breath of Elonsha tickled his mind with its allure. Fear for himself and his friends drained it of much of its power, but he thanked Caros the voice didn’t speak to him. Fighting it would waste precious time.

  He recited the litany a second time, expecting at any moment to get a sword in his back.

  A silver nimbus surrounded the body. The man’s eyes opened. Erick pushed his will, subjugating the man before he was aware he had returned from the dead.

  “What do you wish?” the warrior asked, voice rough but intelligible.

  “Protect me,” Erick screamed as another attacker approached. Still engaged with their opponent, Corby and Fathen were unaware of the danger to Erick. The swordsman would be on him in five strides.

  The dead man jumped up and grabbed the sword from its scabbard. He faced the attacker. Newly dead, he still moved as quickly as when he had been alive.

  The attacker stopped, confusion on his pockmarked face as his friend confronted him. “What are you doing, Nels? Help me capture the brat.”

  Nels hesitated, and Erick again asserted his will, pushing his wishes over the dead man’s. Nels swung his sword and caught his former friend a brutal slash across the face. Blood welled. The man screamed as a portion of his large nose fell away. He raised his hands to his ruined face and Nels drove the sword into his chest, straight through the leather armor. The screams stopped, and the man fell.