Song (The Manhunters Book 1)

by Jesse Teller

  “I will need a few days. You cannot sleep here. My shack will be in use. You are Rayph Ivoryfist. I’m sure the village will be open to you should you be so inclined.”

  Rayph nodded. “When will you ask?”

  “Tomorrow night. I will need your help.”

  “You will have it.”

  The gloom of Maskalorn pulled tight around him as he waded his way from the swamp and returned to the village. The vileness here peered into him. Under its gaze, Rayph felt young and weak. Malevolence rolled through the place in gentle waves, slow and deviant, its perfect patience more terrifying than the anger itself. It had settled in, and nothing would root it out. Drelis’s work here was a stopper at most. Her power held the entity back. Rayph knew she would stay until the last resident of this area had had enough and the entire populace had abandoned Maskalorn.

  Once inside the village, he made for the pub and shouldered his way through the door. All revelry stopped as he entered. He looked out over the haggard faces and pulled back his hood. He sat at an empty table and let them all see him.

  A bar wench approached him. She looked scared.

  “Can I get you something, stranger?”

  He spoke quietly and calmly so as not to spook her. “I’ll take whatever ale you have and a bowl of gruel. Maybe a bit of bread if there is still some.”

  She nodded and backed away.

  The table’s edge was splintered and the chair creaked weakly as if warning of collapse. He tried to sit as still as possible while the bar mumbled around him and curious eyes sought every detail they could find.

  The soup was thin as the mud outside. Rayph decided it was mostly water. The meat was questionable, as were the hunks of hard yellow vegetables that captured the tooth when he bit into them.

  A team of four men approached him.

  “What is your story, stranger? Why here, why tonight?” the largest, most sober of them asked.

  “I am Rayph Ivoryfist. I am here to see a friend.”

  The four men looked to one another skeptically, then laughed. “Rayph Ivoryfist is a bigger man than you, and all know he forsook this nation to be with his kin in Ebu. Your answer is poor humor, friend, and it will raise my ire.”

  “Rayph Ivoryfist has not forsaken this land,” Rayph said. “He quietly awaits the day he can return to his post. He watches over the country he loves, the country that gave him a home when he was driven out of Ebu.” He looked up at the man before him and smiled. “Rayph loves this country and its people too much to abandon them.”

  The man looked confused, and he shook his head. Rayph opened his third eye, feeling the power of his people pour into him as he did so. The men before him looked a bit unnerved but not frightened.

  “A multitude of trimerians populate this nation, stranger. We border Ebu. Their kind comes here for sanctuary every day.”

  “How can you be sure of who I am? Let me prove it to you.”

  “Rayph carries the dagger of Fannalis, the Guardian Blade. If you are truly Rayph Ivory—”

  Rayph eased the dagger from his belt and placed it gently on the table. The man before him reached for it with a stupefied look, and the dagger grew metal barbs along the handle. The barbs seeped poison, and the pub drew in a breath. They all at once seemed to pull closer and lean away, transfixed in a dance between fascination and terror.

  Rayph looked at the dagger that changed his life ten thousand years ago, and he nodded. “This is Fannalis. No, you may not touch it. He will strike you dead if you try. I will not summon him, for he is weak and cannot be disturbed.” Rayph picked up his bowl and his heel of bread and continued eating.

  The bar backed away from him as one, retreating to the walls and corners to whisper and stare. Rayph sat in silence until they approached him again.

  “You are the champion of Lorinth, it is true. Can you aid your people here in Maskalorn?”

  “If I can help, I will,” Rayph said. He set the mug and the bowl aside and crossed his hands on the table.

  “There is an evil here. She curses our crops so horribly that we have stopped attempting them. She sours our swamp and haunts the borders of our land. She is mighty and terrible, and she seeks to destroy our souls. Rayph Ivoryfist, we ask you to hunt the witch that haunts this place and end her reign of terror. She is beyond any of us, but there is no force that can balk you.”

  “Strike her dead for us,” another man said.

  “Cleanse our home so we may till and work the land here again.”

  Rayph bit down on his anger and settled himself before he spoke. “Listen here, and listen well. I know the witch you speak of. She is dear to me, and the reason I have come. She protects this place and the people who live here, and keeps the true darkness at bay. Were I to ask her to leave, this place would be decimated in a day.

  “Drelis Demontser felt the approach of the vile presence outside your village and came here to protect you from it. She is a heroine to your people, not its stain.”

  “She steals our children, replacing them with monsters that serve her bidding,” a woman said.

  “She filled the heart of Tobias with such rage one day, that he came home and beat his wife to death. He remembers none of it, and he had no drink that day,” another man said.

  “Tobias murdered his wife on his own accord, not at the behest of Drelis. I would fight and die for her this moment if I could. She has taken on the chore of protecting you and yours from a diabolical beast. She stays because of your stubbornness and unwillingness to leave. The day the last of you are safe from harm, she will leave and go about her life. You owe her your allegiance.

  “I cannot save your town. I cannot defeat this foe of yours. I can simply give you this piece of advice. Grab your families and run. A pox infects this land, a sickness that is slowly eating this place alive. Rid yourself of it while you still can.”

  “This is our home, Ivoryfist. We cannot simply leave it.”

  Rayph thought of his home and the pain he felt in leaving it. After ten thousand years, he had yet to heal from that wound, and he sighed.

  “Your home is where you decide it is. Carry what is dear to you and go seek a new home. I did.”

  The people drew back. They returned to their drinks and their meals and left Rayph to his thoughts. He looked at the dagger on the table before him, and he nodded. The barbs pulled back into the handle, and he slid the blade home. “It was worth it, old friend. Just rest. I will find a way to free you.”

  Rayph was afforded a room in the back of the bar for a small bit of coin and a spell that would keep the bar clean for months at a time.

  Sleep came in fitful spasms, spanned by nightmares and a bone-deep cold he could scarcely bear. Something tugged at him from outside, and he looked forward to leaving this place and the thing that stalked it.

  Day languished in the swamp, rolling about in the throes of its death as night strangled it and beat it mercilessly. Rayph sat in a clearing among fallen cypresses and jagged rocks. Drelis moved about, driving stakes into the ground, bearing the heads of the animals she had killed, and splashing blood between the rocks. The grisly ceremony left Rayph amazed she could keep her soul so clean. The altar set in the center of the clearing had been overrun with choking vines and encroaching devil grass. The stone was white as bone. The two stumps that held it up were blackened and slick.

  “When he comes, he will draw demons to him. It is just his way. They will not harm me, or you, if you stay out of the circle. Fires will sprout up in their presence. I need you to keep them from overtaking the swamp. My people need these trees for the lumber. I will not let harm come to one of them. When he takes me, I will ask him for his favor. You may not watch. Do not try to intercede. Remember, he is as dear to me as I am to him.”

  “I will respect your bond. I will not judge or move to stop him.”

  She turned her eye to Rayph and smiled. “Good.” She looked absolutely devilish. Rayph laughed, and she giggled.

  When darkne
ss reigned the swamp, an odd hush filled the night as if all the swamp life held its breath in anticipation. Rayph set himself on the ground beside a tree far from the offerings to the demons and where he could see her stalking around the altar. Her dress, black and gauzy, hung open in the front, hinting at breasts and betraying a tight stomach and dark womanhood. She spit out a word and fires leapt into the air around the skulls of the animals she had summoned.

  She screamed out a bloodcurdling cry that echoed through the swamp, and the air above the altar ripped open, betraying a seething darkness. Tiny demons crept from the space to run a circuit around the altar. From out of the shadows crawled a form, twisted and horrible. Drelis dropped her gown and stepped naked to the altar, laying herself at its feet.

  The beast’s horned head swept to Rayph as it snarled. Lips curled, and its enormous taloned hands snapped shut. Rayph locked eyes with the monster, refusing to back down but refusing to step closer as well.

  They held each other’s gaze until Drelis’s pale hand stroked the creature’s thigh and it looked at her. Large nostrils drank in the fetid stench of the swamp and the scent of her bare flesh before it. A grin crossed its face as it threw back its head, howling to the night sky choked by cypress trees. Its lust-filled cry ripped through the silence of the swamp, and Rayph’s skin broke out in goose flesh. He looked away suddenly. He did not want to see what happened next.

  So great were her cries of pleasure and pain, Rayph did not hear the splashing. He was so distracted that he did not even sense them coming until, across the clearing, a horrified face broke through the gloom. A woman bearing a kitchen knife stared in shock at the sight of Drelis’s lovemaking. Dozens more watched, fascinated and disturbed by the spectacle.

  Rayph turned to face a crowd of villagers armed with torches and weapons of whatever kind they could muster. Their faces were drawn and pale, their fear threatening to overtake them as they looked to one another, screwing up their courage to attack.

  “Step back, all of you, step away. Go back to your homes and—”

  “She has a demon lover!” a woman screamed.

  “He is not a demon. He is a shadow. He lives in a plane of darkness, but he is not wholly evil,” Rayph said.

  But they could not hear him. The night around him swarmed with faces churning in fear and ignorance.

  “She must be burned!” a man screamed. He pumped his torch in the air and turned to Rayph. He opened his mouth to speak again, but he was too dangerous to be allowed to speak again.

  Rayph curled his hand into a fist and connected it with the man’s mouth with as much strength as he could muster. The man lifted off the ground and splashed back into the swamp beyond. The mob went silent.

  They surged forward as one.

  Rayph stomped his foot in the mud and muck. With a loud clapping of thunder, an irresistible wave lifted into the air and slammed into the mob, sending them reeling back, thrashing in the swamp.

  “Drelis, there is no time. They have come for you. We must go!” Rayph yelled.

  “He must be satisfied. I cannot stop him. He will destroy me,” she cried. She let out a deafening scream and Rayph gritted his teeth.

  One of the citizens drew back a bow. Every instant seemed to pass by as if an hour. Rayph put up his hand and spoke in a resounding voice that halted all movement. He spoke not a word in the language of man. He did not utter a phrase recognizable by any mortal, yet he spoke to the core of every living thing when he spit out the language of the immortal Sentries, commanding every living being to stop. Every heart before him stilled. Every man and woman forgot how to breathe and how to think. They loosed their bowels as one and fell to splash to the swamp water. Many began to drown, and he cursed.

  Speaking the language of the immortals left him stunned and reeling. He dropped to his knees and fought for the air to breathe. He looked out over the water, many villagers face-down. These people were of hate and intolerance, but they were citizens of Lorinth, and he had vowed to defend them all. He pushed his way to his feet and swayed, nearly pitching to the ground.

  He lifted his hands as he screamed out the words to his spell. The swamp water around him lifted into the air. Droplets of water filled the world, and he spit out his command, bringing them all together. He formed a wall of black water around the ritual, blotting out all sound and sight from the world beyond. Rayph dropped to a knee and spit blood. He struggled to his feet and grabbed a nearby tree to steady himself.

  They rose and muttered. Their forms lifted and neared the wall of water.

  Rayph pulled his waterlogged robe from his body and threw his hair from his eyes. His fear entangled with his anger. The two thrashed and fought one another as he struggled to think clearly.

  They deserved to be punished. Their fear and loss was blinding them, making them hateful and ignorant. But he could not do it. These people were dear to Drelis. She put her life and soul in danger for these people every day. She watched them live out their lives and fight for their survival, and she longed for their love.

  They gathered for the wall of water and Rayph growled. Drelis whimpered behind him, and he fought off tears. The sex ended with a roar of such potency that Rayph’s ears screamed in pain, ringing.

  She whispered and Rayph turned to see the beast pressing its ear down to her mouth as it listened. Her mouth hung open as it answered, and when it had spoken, it looked up at Rayph. It pulled back to stalk toward Ivoryfist. He stared it down, waiting for its neglect or attention.

  The shadow lord stepped before Rayph. Rayph whispered his translation spell a moment before the creature spoke.

  “A monsoon approaches that will crush you beneath its weight.” It laughed. “My master confides to me the details of your death, and I find them fitting,” the monster hissed. Its spittle dropped to the ground to smoke and seethe on the devil grass.

  “Name your master who despises me so.”

  The great horned head shook in refusal. “The order is rising, and all who stand to oppose it will be struck down in its wrath.”

  “I will stand before the order in defiance.”

  “You will fall alone, bereft of hope.” It seemed almost saddened by this proclamation, and Rayph realized he knew nothing of this beast’s allegiances.

  “Tell your master I will not stand alone. Tell him I am devising a plan.”

  The monster nodded. It turned to Drelis and scooped her up in its mighty hands. It sniffed her before holding her body with one hand and her head with the other. It lowered its mouth to hers and kissed her with such passion and apparent love that Rayph’s heart broke. After a ripping of air, the demons leapt back into their hole. The beast dropped her to the mud and devil grass and, with a flip of its tail, was gone.

  Rayph did not sleep in the village. He did not stay with the villagers. When he carried Drelis back to her shack, he found a ring of fire around its base he could not penetrate. No spell gained him entry. No trick he could devise could get him in. He finally sat on a stump, holding her trembling body close and willing her awake. Two full days he held her. Two full days she rested until, on the third, she lifted her head.

  “He is gone,” she said.

  “He is.”

  “Did you kill him?”

  “I knew it was not your wish, so I did not. I think he warned me,” Rayph said. “Though I could not be sure.”

  She nodded.

  Food and drink and rest, and on the fourth day she sent him from her house so she could work. Two days passed before she emerged.

  She held up a badge of sorts. Black leather base with a skull, and two feathers graced it. The whole thing let off a calming vibration that soothed Rayph’s mind as he beheld it.

  “What kind of skull is this?” Rayph asked.

  “It is a bat skull. I asked for volunteers from Mang’s army. These were sacrificial lives.”

  “They will keep us connected to each other?”

  “They will.”

  “There seems no darkn
ess to them. Am I wrong?”

  “Everything in this world holds some darkness, Rayph, even you. You didn’t hurt those people out there, but you didn’t beg them off either. They fear you as they have never feared me, and that will color their nights and their lives from this point. What you have done in light will be a tool of darkness. It resides in everything, Rayph.”

  Rayph sighed and lowered his head.

  “But there is nothing purely dark,” she said with a sad smile. “Nothing from this world anyway. You will find these acceptable with your companions who doubt.”

  “Doubt what?”

  “The darkness in their own hearts. Those who think themselves too good for me will find these acceptable. And they are exactly what you need. They will keep you bound mentally. They will seek each other out if commanded to, so you can use them to find one another. I have placed a few other tricks on them. Language translation. A little flight and a touch of fear. They will serve you well.”

  “Good, thank you. Keep one.”

  “For me?” She feigned surprise, and he laughed.

  “My lover, Feinget, told me Black Cowl’s first move,” she said. “Though it doesn’t make sense to me when put in line with you.”

  “I would hear it anyway.”

  “He told me Black Cowl has sent a man to kill our king.” She screwed up her face a bit and shook her head. “Which is good news for you. A blade in his back would put you right back in court. Kill the king and you return.”

  “To my many duties. I would be too busy to do much else but put out his fires.” Rayph shook his head. “And he cannot have my king. Did Feinget tell you who he sent?”

  “Julius Kriss.”

  Rayph’s blood went cold. He fought against the horrible need to run, and he struggled with control. “He sent Kriss?”

  “He did,” Drelis said. “You might think about sitting this one out. Phomax’s death serves you.”

  “A king’s assassination serves no one. It breeds fear and panic, which is exactly what this order is after. No, I must resist them.”

  “What will you do?”