Song (The Manhunters Book 1)

by Jesse Teller

  When Mending Keep had reformed, Rayph could see the full damage done to her. A massive section of the main building had exploded, an enormous gap in her side. The roof had also suffered an explosion. The attack had been two pronged. He chose the hole in the side of the building, where the mundane attackers would have entered, to inspect first. He climbed over the rubble and into the first of the decimated cells to see a ragged body ripped to nearly unrecognizable shreds. The face was gone, but the arm bore a scar Rayph could place.

  This man should have been released years earlier. King Phomax had marked him a villain and commanded Rayph to lock him up. The crime did not warrant the damning of the man to Mending Keep, but Rayph had been helpless to intercede. He had done as commanded, and here the poor soul had been housed. Rayph picked up his arm and set it respectfully beside a large piece of his torso. “I wronged you,” he said. “You should not have been here.” He uttered a prayer and moved on.

  The outer cells had suffered horrible fatalities where the hole had been blown in. Many more cells had been broken into, and the men inside, slaughtered. Vendettas between enemies had played themselves out here.

  Rayph made his way into the building’s core and to the halls in the keep’s bowels. The inner walls were largely intact, but splashed with gore. Bodies, half-crushed and destroyed, riddled the halls. Rayph could determine little of what had transpired here. The changing walls of Mending Keep had pulverized these bodies to unrecognizable bits.

  “Maiden, can you please show me to the armory?” Rayph said. The walls strobed slightly, and Rayph followed the path the Maiden of Mending Keep laid out for him. When he reached the armory, he hoped to see stout doors still sealed and watched over by the gargoyles posted here, but only rubble greeted him. Horns and snouts, claws and wings of stone littered the hall. Rayph could not hold back his tears at the loss of life apparent.

  He reached the main doors, blown from the hinges and cast aside, and he clenched his jaw. Every weapon had been snatched. Smear crouched low, investigating a broken chest. They had taken their time, unlocking every chest, tearing their way through every steel bar. A bolt of rage ripped through Rayph as he thought about the sheer power they had harvested from this room.

  Every vile weapon he had confiscated, every unspeakable tome from every Hell-spawned library had been taken. “It’s all gone,” Smear said. “How many times?”

  “A lot. Too many.”

  “I said this was dangerous. ‘This many fell implements in one place has to lead to trouble,’ I said. This might have been what they were after.”

  “Maybe, it’s possible they wanted the keep’s armory. But it is also possible it was just a bonus.”

  “Why?” Smear said. He stood and dusted off his hands.

  “I’m coming to steal the weapons of the prisoners, do I free the prisoners themselves?” Rayph said. “If I do, they are going to want their weapons and items of power returned to them. Counterproductive.”

  “Right.”

  “It is clear to me why they came here. And they were completely successful.”

  “They wanted the inmates. Black Cowl is building an army,” Smear said.

  Rayph nodded.

  Not much was left. A pack of dogs had settled in one of the outbuildings, making Rayph wonder how long ago this attack had happened. Everything worth stealing had been stolen. His office had been ransacked, a number of vital things taken.

  They walked one of the cellblocks and were surprised to hear the rattling of steel on steel. Rayph turned to Smear, who disappeared from sight. With a word, Rayph had his sword in his hand. He followed the noise around a corner and up a flight of stairs. He stopped outside a dark cell, staring in, searching for details. The door had been damaged but still locked. Someone waited inside.

  Rayph pointed his sword tip in the direction of the cell and breathed a word. A small, soft ball of light erupted from the blade and floated forward to light the recesses of the cell.

  “Hello, Ivoryfist,” the man said.

  Rayph searched the man’s features until he recognized him. “Breeder, what are you doing here?”

  Breeder was bruised and torn from many attacks, and his face was swollen, his eyes nearly shut from his fight. Rayph could see three bodies in the cell with him: a couple of low-ranking thugs and one star.

  “I am where you left me,” Breeder said.

  “You had a chance to escape. What kept you here?”

  “There is no running from you. Not really. I would have been loose for a few months, maybe a year. But sooner or later, you would have come looking for me. I tried to run on you once. Didn’t work out for me.”

  “What do we do now?” Rayph asked.

  “You gave me ten years. I have six remaining. I mean to serve them and have you off my back. Is six still the deal, or are you going to penalize me for this mess I made?”

  Rayph looked at the bodies within the cell, and he shook his head. “What happened in there?”

  “They didn’t take it well that I was staying. Tanker and I, we had unfinished business, which you probably already knew. He came looking to settle up and ended up face down. Black Cowl sent these after me, but they had no better luck. When he couldn’t get me out of my cell, he tried to blast me out, but you know how well that worked.”

  “Yes, the cells are proofed.”

  “Right, well, I stayed. I’ve been out of my cell a few times to scavenge for food and drink, but I never left the compound. So how about it, six or more?”

  “We can agree on six, maybe less if you can help me.”

  Something crossed his face, a shot of panic as his pupils dilated and his breathing quickened.

  “You have a problem with that?” Rayph asked.

  “Depends on what you want.”

  “What can you tell me about the break?”

  Breeder’s head slumped. “Yeah, I was afraid of that question. I mean no disrespect, but I can’t help you out.”

  “Did they spook you?”

  “Yeah, they are about business.”

  “What sparked it?” Rayph stepped closer to the cell. He touched the bars and gripped them, keeping tight check on his emotions.

  Breeder stared into Rayph’s eyes. “They made promises, horrible promises.”

  “Can you tell me anything?”

  “Right after I was put in here, I hated you as much as everyone else you had locked up. I wanted you dead but was helpless to do it myself. I have been thinking about you a lot since. Everyday, I go over it all again. What I did, how I did it, how I was caught, and what was done to me about it all. I have learned to respect your work. Learned to admire you. And in my time here, I have found myself agreeing with a lot of what you do. I guess I will always hate you, but I see the need for people like you in the world. There is one thing I will tell you. You need to fear them. They are serious, and they possess a power I could not grasp at first. Watch yourself, Ivoryfist. I’m sure they are coming for you.”

  In the mess hall, Smear and Rayph ate in silence. The meal was nearly finished when Smear spoke. “I’m with you ’til we put this behind us.”

  “Yeah,” Rayph said.

  “You got a plan yet?”

  “Couple of places I need to hit, people I need to see,” Rayph said. “Got to get ahead of it.”

  “Breeder said they came two weeks ago. That is quite a jump.”

  “Yeah,” Rayph said. “Certain people have to be warned.”

  Smear grunted.

  “I need to go see the witch. She owes me a few markers, and I have an idea that might make this all a little easier.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Go find the Wheezer. Tell him we need to talk and I’ll get in touch with him when I can. And we will need a place to work out of. Find one suitable for us, for what we will be doing, and secure it. Then, find me.”

  “I got a tingle,” Smear said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

 
“We alone?” Rayph asked.

  “Not really.”

  “Let’s go check it out. There is one place we haven’t looked yet.”

  Smear nodded and walked away. Rayph waited for him to get set, then he rose and headed to the nearest wall. “Maiden, lead me to the chapel.”

  The wall strobed and Rayph patted it gently. “Thanks.” He walked blackened halls and rooms reduced to rubble. A powerful mage had been loosed on this place, one with a penchant for mindless and random destruction, a petulant power, a vandal at heart who just liked to watch things explode and burn. Rayph wondered when he would meet this villain. When he looked at the clear signs of his passing, he felt itchy to find him.

  Rayph exited the back of the keep and his eye fell upon the chapel of Cor-lyn-ber, built for Stoic a decade ago. The man needed a place to worship and, for the price of service, Rayph had built him one. The door stood slightly ajar and Rayph tossed his sword in the air. The air ripped open, swallowing the weapon and zipping closed again. Rayph ran a hand along the grip of his dagger and it pulsed.

  “You sense anything in there?” he asked.

  Another pulse and a pause, two more, and Rayph nodded.

  “Danger?” he asked.

  Nothing.

  “Be on guard, anyway.”

  The dagger handle pulsed again and Rayph stepped toward the door. He made a slight gesture with his hand, which Smear would catch if he had been looking, and he slipped into the door without touching it.

  Light penetrated the room in long, thick slanting blades that cut from the windows in the vaulted ceiling to the floor. The gloom of shadows running a circuit around the chapel hid life. Rayph waited to allow Smear to search them.

  Rayph counted to ten and stepped forward. The prayer pillows were sliced and torn. The stench of smoke stained the room, though it was not clear what had burned. The light, so bright and filled with dancing dust, hid a slumped-over shadow near the altar.

  Rayph saw a bowed head, and he froze.

  The genuflecting figure stood and turned. The shadows behind it stirred, and Rayph took the sign from Smear. He held up a finger, signing more to Smear than to the one who approached, but the person stopped.

  “May I ask your name?” Rayph said.

  Silence, and Rayph’s heart beat out a dread-filled rhythm.

  The figure held its hand to the side. It carried something that looked bladed and, as it drew closer, the object grew. It extended slowly, a shaft of some sort that bore a spearhead on its tip. Rayph shook his head, stopping Smear and stepping forward.

  “I wish no quarrel. Please check your advance.” The spear was full size now and it swung around, its blade directed at Rayph. He retreated. He slipped back out of the door and into the dying sunlight. He stepped to the center of the courtyard and stopped. The figure seethed in the shadows just within the door before stepping out, spear leading the way.

  “I ask again for your name.” Rayph could see the armor carved with symbols of Cor-lyn-ber, but the head and face still hid behind a heavy blue cowl.

  Smear stepped up to the brink of the chapel, his form filling the door before pulling back.

  The warrior lifted the spear and drove its butt into the flagstones. “I claim this chapel for Cor-lyn-ber in a time of war. None are welcome within its walls but those who serve the god.” It was a female voice, stern and powerful.

  Rayph made the slightest nod, and Smear slipped out the door and skirted the front of the building. He slipped back and, in a blink, scurried up the side of the back wall to a vantage point of superiority.

  “I am Rayph Ivoryfist, friend and advisor to Stoic. I have come here to—”

  “I did not ask for your name or your motives,” she said. “I know who you are. You are the reason Stoic is dead. And I mean to make you pay for it.”

  The dagger pulsed and Rayph shook his head. “I am a friend to your god. I wish nothing but justice for Stoic’s death.”

  She spun the spear quickly before her and pulled it back behind. She slid her foot forward and set herself. She means to do it. She means to bring this fight to me. Rayph tied back the sleeves of his robe. He held a hand up to Smear as she broke out in a run.

  Rayph decided to end this quickly. He extended his hand, feeling a surge of magic begin at his chest and extend out. As the bolt of pure magic exited his hand, he flexed his fist, stunting the power of the attack to a stun. With a flash of light and a twirl of her spear, the weapon collected the energy. She stepped to the side, spinning her spear as the power released. It flew behind her, striking the wall below where Smear stood, crumbling it to bits. Smear tumbled from his perch, and she was on Rayph.

  Her spear was a striking viper, lashing at him from every direction at once. Rayph danced his way back, watching her attacks with a cool mind, analyzing every movement she made, seeking a moment, a pure instant of folly, that he could slip into and render her helpless. As she fought, she prayed. She spun her spear behind her back, and he stepped forward. Her palm struck his chest, and a great clap filled the air. Rayph was thrown back to slam the wall thirty feet behind him and collapsed in a heap.

  He shook his head, rising slowly. She spun on Smear, who sneaked up behind her. Her impossibly fast attacks dove at every corner of his body. He blocked when he could, taking many hits and retreating. Rayph was up and furious.

  He stepped back, braced himself, and brought his arms round full circle to clap his hands before him. With a concussive blast, the ground trembled. Air rushed out before him, scooping her up and tossing her at the church. Smear sidestepped the attack and spun, dropping to a knee and throwing three daggers. She jumped to her feet but was nailed to the church by the throwing knives.

  “We are not your enemy!” Rayph howled. “This fight is madness, and I won’t be a part of it.”

  She jerked the daggers from her clothing, freeing herself, and dropped them to the ground. She pulled her spear around again, and Rayph shook his head.

  He stomped as Smear leapt away. Rayph issued a blast of power to slam into her again. She dropped to the ground, and he fought to settle himself. He cursed and struggled in the grip of his anger. She rose shakily to her feet only to drop to a knee.

  “This is over,” Rayph said. “Who are you?”

  She looked up, shaking her head and pushing up from her knees with her spear. “I have been sent to avenge Stoic.”

  “You are a fool. I was Stoic’s friend. I was deeply wounded by his death and seek to avenge him myself. I will not fight a member of his order, and I will not be blamed for his death. This is my prison. He worked for me.”

  “Where were you when your prison was attacked? Where were you when Stoic needed you?” she asked, her voice strained. Rayph realized this woman had strong feelings for her fallen comrade.

  “I was about the country taking care of other pressing matters.” He felt the weakness of the claim and hated it. In fact, there had been little for him to do. The last few years, since he had left the court, he had been bored much of the time. He was wandering without purpose, without a goal. He had stayed away from the monotony of the prison, and Stoic had paid for it. “In truth, I was away from my post. I had other places to be but—” The weight of his guilt sat upon him, and he lowered his head. “I should have been with him.”

  “That is nonsense,” Smear said. “This place was yours by design, but not your total responsibility. Others should have taken up the mantle years ago when you stepped down from your office. This is the duty of the court wizard. I won’t let you burden yourself with this weight.”

  “Who is at fault is a matter of opinion. What remains is that we need to see justice done,” Rayph said. “Cor-lyn-ber has lost a powerful son. I have lost a dear friend, and villains have been unleashed. We are about making that right. Join us if you wish, but do not hinder us any longer.”

  She pulled back her hood. Her face was delicate and warm, a face of kindness and light. Rayph smiled at the sight of it.

 
“Do you have a name?” Smear asked.

  “I was given a name by my god. I am called Dissonance.”

  “Dissonance, we have much to do,” Rayph said.

  Tales of a Better Time

  The curve of her nose. And Konnon thought of his own mother, long-dead, and the way she scrunched up her nose when she laughed.

  The twitch of her lip as she slept, right in the corner where her smile curved upward. Konnon watched his daughter’s mouth move and he knew the dream she was having was a good one. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. He pulled his hat down over his eyes. He slept through lunch. When he heard the slight knock on the door, he jumped to his feet and was out again.

  Sunlight greeted him, and when he walked out of the shack, the oppressive heat hit him hard on the face. He looked up at the light, wondering if the gods were watching, and he shoved the thought aside. The gods hadn’t been watching him for a long time.

  He grabbed the cart and strapped it again to the horse. This animal was not meant for this work, but it was the only horse that had been in this village for a very long time. When Konnon had come in with it, this close to the harvest, the village celebrated. He led the animal to the fields and Poncan greeted him.

  “Ho, Konnon, bring that magnificent beast this way.” Poncan held up his hat and waved Konnon forward.

  The horse was drawn by a small boy with dirty hair and even filthier face. Konnon called him Bootstrap but the village called him Pulup. Bootstrap took the reins and pulled his long, thin stick and swatted the horse gently on the side. Konnon began picking up long bound bales of hay. He tossed them in the wagon and kept moving.

  He did not like to talk as he worked, but the village did. He listened to them all sing and laugh, and he concentrated on their merriment and found solace in it. Every time he passed Teryal, she smiled at him. She stretched and pointed her perfect breasts at him and wiped her golden bangs from her eyes. She looked at him like a ravenous beast, and he nodded, smiled back and kept walking. Kept lifting. Kept working.