Dozens of small dome-shaped houses lined the walls of the canyon. Made from chiseled stone and mud-grass, the buildings were well camouflaged under the fall of snow. Short walls, crafted from bricks of snow and ice, partly surrounded nearly every building, adding additional insulation from the bitter wind. There were no windows in any of the homes, and the wooden doors were only half the height of a normal man.
Deep impressions in the snow gave the indication that there were once well-kept walkways and paths leading through the mountain village. Along every buried path, rows of tall and sturdy wooden posts, each bearing a thick, glass-covered lamp, marked the way. When lit, they were likely a necessity for finding one’s way about in the frequent blizzards. Black, iron braziers, unlit and overcome by mounting snow, lined both sides of the weathered road. Wooden chimes, hanging from every other doorway, clacked and whistled in the biting wind.
The chimneys were all dormant and nothing stirred from within the buildings. Wagons and toppled carts, still filled with possessions, had been discarded in apparent haste. Children’s toys and rag dolls lay forgotten on porch steps. Front doors, left carelessly unlatched, flapped open and closed in the blustery storm.
A raging bonfire in the center of town brought life to the abandoned village. Crackling and roaring in the gusty wind, the blaze shined brilliantly against the twilight. Mounds of wood were piled haphazardly about the area.
The company rushed to the fire’s edge, warming their numb fingers. The heat from the flames brought both comfort and agony as joints thawed and untwisted. Kazen shuffled around the edge of the fire, trying to keep his back to the bitter wind. Stumbling over a log, he was horrified to realize that it was not a log at all, but instead, the frozen corpse of a man. In fact, there were five bodies in all that they could see, all of them petrified into various unnatural poses and half buried under the falling snow. The frozen expressions of fear on their faces were haunting testament to their ill end.
“What happened here?” Kazen shuddered.
“I can see a knife wound to this one’s back.” Ilagon nodded his head at the nearest corpse. “And that one there. These men were murdered, either by each other or some outsider, and not terribly long ago. Their hair is not frozen through. A few days ago, at most, I would say.”
Shanks shook his head. “This is all wrong. These mountaineers are a spiritual bunch. They wouldn’t have left their dead behind. What wickedness could have driven them away in such haste?”
“It seems at least a few remained behind.” Ilagon motioned toward his feet.
There, in front of him, lay a sixth man. Curled into a fetal ball, the dead man clutched the hilt of the sword that had been thrust into his belly and out his back. Steam rose from the warm blood that pooled beneath him.
“Well, that certainly seems more recent,” Shanks said.
Ilagon nodded. “In the last half hour.”
“What madness goes on here?” Shanks wondered.
“W-we should have stayed on the p-path,” Kazen stuttered nervously.
“There is nothing for it, now,” Ilagon said flatly. “We have to get E’enna out of this cold. Kazen, grab an armful of that wood.”
Kazen obediently gathered as much wood as he could carry with his injured shoulder, never taking his eyes off the still bodies. He had certainly seen death before, but never had it filled him with such dread. It was the faces of the dead men that disturbed him the most: Each of the men’s faces was frozen in contorted expressions of horror and puzzlement. Here, in this frozen wasteland, they would likely be suspended in their terror for all eternity.
Stepping carefully over the dead, Kazen hurried after his friends, who had entered one of the abandoned homes. It was a small, one-room dwelling with curved walls of stone and no corners. One large bed and two child-size beds were against the far side of the building; their headboards rounded to lay flush with the curve of the wall. A short, round, wooden table sat in the center of the room. Shelves and cabinets, still filled with food and wares, occupied nearly every available space on the walls. Stools and chairs lay toppled and scattered about in the otherwise tidy home.
Lamps and candles abounded in the windowless home, and most were already burning by the time Kazen entered. Ilagon sat on his knees in front of the stone hearth, adding twigs to a pile of dry kindling, which smoked and crackled with a healthy orange flame.
“Give it here.” Ilagon motioned to the logs in Kazen’s arms.
Kazen dropped the load of wood at Ilagon’s side, and wiggled painfully out from under his pack. Even without a raging fire he felt tremendously better being indoors. The small building was very well insulated and did well at keeping the frigid wind at bay. It was not long before the growing fire warmed the stone walls of the building, and the air was filled with forgotten warmth.
Shanks tended diligently to E’enna. He lay her down close to the fire, and bundled her up loosely with many blankets. He refused food and water until Kazen finally convinced him that he would look after her while he ate.
“Your shoulder is out again, I see,” Ilagon said as he handed a steaming cup of broth to Kazen. “Let me have a look.”
“I think it will be fine,” Kazen contended. “In a day or two, when it is not so sore, I will—”
Ilagon nodded with feigned interest, and then abruptly snatched up Kazen’s hand and gave it a quick tug.
Kazen yowled as the bone was snapped back into place. “I cannot believe you did it again!” he grunted through gritted teeth.
“You will thank me in the morning. When your shoulder is not stiff and swollen to the size of your head.”
After a few hours, E’enna finally began to stir. Color returned to her wind-blown cheeks and her fingertips began to pink. Even by the warmth of the fire, however, and huddled under layers of thick blankets, she still shivered uncontrollably, as if the cold had sunk down into her bones. Still, she was soon able to sit up and sip weakly at a jug of wine, which had been discovered in one of the pantries.
Kazen enthusiastically filled her in on all that had happened since she had fallen ill.
She listened with great interest and expressed her guilt at having been such a burden during such critical times. “I thought it was all a dream.”
“This forsaken place is more of a nightmare, if you ask me,” Shanks grumbled, peering out the front door. “I fear we are no safer here than on that cliff face.”
“We will take extra precautions tonight,” Ilagon said. “I will fetch another armful of wood and then we shall barricade the door.”
Shanks nodded. “I should like to keep my blades at the ready in any case.”
Ilagon tossed a blanket over his shoulders and dashed out into the blizzard. The others groaned as the icy wind gusted in through the open door. Shanks quickly shouldered it shut and dusted the wet snow from his hair. No sooner had the door been shut when it was suddenly flung open again. Ilagon stood in the entranceway, a hollow look upon his face.
“Back already?” Shanks asked. “Couldn’t you find the wood?”
Slamming the door shut with his foot, Ilagon scanned the room with a curious gaze. His eyes fell upon the spread of rations laid out on the small table. Rushing to the table’s edge, he began devouring the food like a man who had not eaten in weeks. Puddles of red wine collected on the table as he slurped sloppily from the heavy jug.
“Ilagon?” Kazen ventured, his voice quiet with bafflement.
Grunting and belching, Ilagon did not answer. He continued on his ravenous rampage, inhaling the salted pork and hard cheese, and spitting on the floor whatever was not to his liking.
“Ilagon!” Kazen persisted.
“What is it, boy!” Ilagon snapped, wiping his chin with the back of his sleeve. The room fell silent at his uncharacteristic eruption.
Kazen swallowed uncomfortably. “Did you forget the wood?”
Ilagon glared back at him with annoyance.
“For the fire . . .” Kazen squeaked out,
feeling more than a bit intimidated by his uncle’s behavior.
Tossing his head back like a prowling hound, Ilagon wrinkled his face into an ugly grimace and sniffed vehemently into the air. A sinister smile crept across his face and he turned slowly to E’enna, who sat silently bewildered in front of the fire. Flinging aside a fistful of meat, Ilagon took a few steps toward her, a new hunger burning in his eyes.
“What need have we for fire,” he crooned, “when we have such beauty to warm our cold hearts?”
E’enna pulled the blankets tightly over her shoulders as Ilagon moved closer to her. She cringed as he ran a cold hand down the back of her neck.
“That’s enough!” Shanks shouted, his face flushed with anger. “This prank has gone too far! Have you lost control of your senses, man!”
Ignoring the fury in Shanks’ voice, Ilagon moved his face uncomfortably close to E’enna’s.
“Ilagon!” Kazen barked.
Leaping to his feet, Ilagon glowered at Kazen. He advanced toward the boy, using his sheer presence to drive him backward until his back was pressed to the wall.
“Is that anyway to speak to your elder, boy?” Ilagon sneered with disgust. Shocked and frightened, Kazen looked away from his uncle’s vacant gaze. Smiling malevolently, Ilagon tousled Kazen’s hair and turned his attention back to E’enna. “Besides,” he gurgled, “I’m just having a little fun with the wench.”
The insult left Kazen trembling with sudden rage. Never before had he looked upon his uncle with such hatred in his heart. “What is wrong with you!”
“Quiet, dog!” Ilagon snapped. “Be a good lad and I’ll let you have her when I’m done with her.”
Outraged, Kazen could contain his rage no longer. He launched himself at Ilagon, tackling him down to the floor. His stunned uncle pinned beneath him, Kazen fought the urge to pull the sword from his back. Instead, he clenched his fist into a tight ball and raised it into the air.
Ilagon clucked with a deep chuckle that seemed to rise from the deepest pit of his bowels. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with, boy.” The words slithered from his lips. “I see the fear in your eyes. You don’t have the backbone for it! You’re a whimpering coward who doesn’t deserve a woman of his own, let alone one so . . . delicious.”
With clenched teeth and tears in his eyes, Kazen swung his fist, smashing it across Ilagon’s chin As the blow made contact, what appeared to be a black shadow rolled out from Ilagon’s chest and across the floor. Wiggling out from beneath Kazen, Ilagon scrambled to his hands and knees, gagging and retching. Completely dumbfounded, Kazen stared in shock at the shadow thing, which lay in the corner, writhing with a grotesque life of its own.
“It is a shadow imp!” Ilagon croaked weakly, a thin stream of blood flowing from his split lip.
Horrified, Kazen grabbed Ilagon under the arms and dragged him to the other side of the room. The company huddled together, gaping at the creature, which had curled itself up against the far wall. It was the size and shape of a small child, yet there was no substance to the thing. Black as night and sheer as a ghost, at first glance one would think it a harmless shadow cast on the wall. But this shadow did not falter under the flicker of a thriving fire. Instead, it cradled its injured chin, hissing sympathetically to itself.
“Wretched creature!” Shanks cursed. “Though I never thought the stories true, I have heard of these devils. As I child, I was told tales of such creatures destroying entire cities in a single night. They can take over the body of anyone they wish, cut your throat, and move on to someone else. What better way to destroy a people than to turn brother against brother?”
E’enna discreetly snapped her quarterstaff together. “For an assassin, it seemed quite eager to give itself away.”
“That is because it is not our deaths that it most desires,” Ilagon said, still visibly ill from the creature’s possession of him. “It craves the pleasures of the flesh more than anything else.”
“You don’t say,” Shanks sneered, unsheathing a dagger from his thigh. “Well, it won’t be wetting its lips on any more wine this night.” With a flash of silver, the sharpened blade whirred across the room, sticking with a thud into the far wall. It had passed harmlessly through the wispy creature, which began dancing about the room, tittering with delight.
“You cannot harm the beast while it is in its shadow form,” Ilagon said.
Shanks scratched nervously at his beard. “Lovely.”
Without warning, the imp suddenly crouched on its haunches, hissing like an angry cat. Bounding forward on hands and feet, it charged directly at them. It launched itself into the air, diving on top of Shanks and disappearing into his chest. Stumbling backward, Shanks yelped and clutched his torso.
“Everyone, back!” Ilagon barked. “He is no longer himself.”
Indeed he was right, for when Shanks finally raised his head, his eyes were as empty as a starless night sky. A cold smile crept across his now sinister face. “Poor little mice!” the creature chortled from behind Shanks’ lips. “All trapped in their hole with a hungry snake. What shall they do? Shall they flee or shall they fight?”
“Leave him alone!” Kazen blurted out helplessly.
The thing snapped an angry glance at Kazen. “I think I shall enjoy killing you most of all.” The beast stroked its sore chin. “Your suffering will be great, I assure you.”
“I do not fear any creature forged from the shadows,” Kazen retorted hesitantly.
“Perhaps you’ll change your mind after I educate you in the ways of pain,” the beast snarled back, pulling two daggers from their sheaths.
“Stop it!” E’enna shrieked. “Shanks, look at me! You can fight it! Please, fight it!”
The creature croaked out a throaty chuckle and passed an icy hand over E’enna’s cheek. “And you I shall save for last. You and I will become very close, I think.”
Scowling angrily, E’enna impulsively flicked her staff, swiping the imp across its smug brow. The creature stumbled backward, falling over a wooden chair.
“You will live long enough to regret that, wench!” the creature snarled, rubbing the swelling lump on its head. The imp rose to its feet, seething with anger. Hissing madly, it exploded from Shanks’ chest, hurdling itself into E’enna’s body. Collapsing to the floor, Shanks twitched and gagged as his body fought to regain control of itself.
“This is hopeless,” Kazen moaned, kneeling beside Shanks. “We are only hurting ourselves.”
Sputtering snickers flooded from behind E’enna’s gnashed teeth. “Of course it’s hopeless!” the creature cackled. Twirling clumsily about the room, the imp swatted at them with E’enna’s staff.
Kazen and Ilagon pulled their swords to fend off the bumbling strikes.
“Ah! Ah! Ah!” the beast mocked, wagging a finger. “Don’t want to scratch the pretty one!”
Sneaking in a hard knock on Ilagon’s head, the creature flew into an insane fit of blathering squawks and giggles.
“What can we do, Ilagon?” Kazen whispered desperately.
Ilagon shook his head gravely. “I know of no magic or means that can rid us of this demon.”
“No! No!” the creature protested. “You’re giving up too easily! You’ll ruin all my fun! The others were much more fun, you know.” Pouting like a spoiled child, the beast plopped down presumptuously beside Kazen. “Would you like me to tell you about all the fun I had with the others?”
Kazen turned his head away. He could not bear to look into her once beautiful eyes, now dull and lifeless.
The creature smiled unpleasantly and kissed Kazen on the cheek with E’enna’s soft lips, which had turned cold and sour. “I think I shall tell you anyway,” it purred. “There were too many at first. You can’t have too much fun when there are too many. Slit a few throats while they sleep, but that’s hardly any sport at all. Get it down to a more intimate number, that’s when the fun starts. That’s when you can begin to figure them out, who the lovers are, who t
he brothers are, what they fear the most. Oh, yes! How fun they were!” the imp squealed with glee. “Especially the one named Cercil; he was the leader. It’s always best to find the leader. And as luck would have it, he even had two tiny children! Daughters, if I recall correctly. Children are always a treat! Their fears are so easy to figure out. You should have seen their ridiculous little eyes as I choked the life out of them with their father’s own fingers!”
Kazen was struck physically ill at the ghastly image the imp painted.
“Yesss,” the creature hissed with delight. “Cercil was so much fun! Oh, how he begged me to let him die! But I had grown quite fond of his body, and intended to keep it until it grew old, or until a better one came along. In fact, I had only left it for a moment to spy on you and your party. And when I returned, can you believe that fool had run himself through while I was gone? What a waste of good flesh!” Sighing, the imp looked truly saddened by the loss of its plaything. “Well, what’s done is done.” The creature shrugged. “I suppose I’ll just have to make do with you.” Once again, the beast began swinging E’enna’s staff wildly over its head.
Kazen cursed quietly as he helped Shanks to his feet. “We are lost. There is nothing we can do.”
“There is one thing,” Shanks replied, a bitter look upon his face.
Pulling the shiv from his back, Shanks steadied his gaze. “Forgive me, darlin’” he whispered under his breath.
He leaped forward, charging the beast with blade drawn.
“No!” Kazen cried, suddenly realizing his intent.
But Shanks was lightning fast. In the blink of an eye, he was on top of the beast. Without hesitation, he sank his blade deep into E’enna’s belly. The creature and E’enna wailed together in pain and astonishment as they fell to the floor, clutching the hilt of the blade. Mortally wounded, the imp slithered out from E’enna’s chest, sniveling and stroking its injured abdomen. It coughed and whimpered dramatically, writhing about the floor before finally collapsing in a wispy heap. Then, like a shrinking shadow in the afternoon sun, the lifeless imp slowly melted away under the light of the flickering fire.
The Flame Weaver Page 19
