by Jesse Teller
“Aaron, you must come. Terrible forces haunt these streets. I must get you out of here before this city devours itself.”
“Light,” he said. “Now.”
She walked to the other end of the room and returned with a shy flame rising from the spout of an oil lamp. He looked at her face and fought back the confusion that seeing her filled him with.
She was small and lean, wearing a thin black robe with a hood pulled up over her head. She pulled the hood back. He saw her beautiful face, and his heart tolled in his chest.
“Where is your skull? Aren’t you supposed to wear your skull mask when you are on Pale business?” He looked at her soft features, the sharp nose, the rounded chin. The dark way her eyebrows flared, and the eyes, deep and brown, and his heart trembled at the beauty of Mort, priestess of The Pale.
“I did not want to wear it tonight.” Her voice was softer than a sigh, timid and pleading. “I wanted you to see me.”
The barb rose to his mouth and, before he could stop it, it tumbled out. “Why would I want to see your face?”
She pulled the hood back over her head and nodded. She was a beautiful, tragic face in a sea of dark, a lovely face lit by a soft glow. Lost in her hood and framed by the yawning pit of black, Mort’s expression spasmed. She closed her eyes to gather herself before she continued. “I will not trouble you. My mistress wants you freed, and I will do my duty. Then you will have no more dealings with me.”
“Mort,” he wanted to say sorry, but his rage was too great. “I am not going with you,” he finally managed.
“You are a prisoner marked for torture and death. You have to let me free you,” Mort said. “The death she has chosen for you is demeaning and horrible.”
“She means to starve me and, when I am begging, feed my legs to me,” Aaron said.
Mort nodded.
“I can’t leave her alive,” Aaron said. “She took a portal to a room I could not identify. I will have to wait until she returns to kill her.”
“We can leave now. I can get us out of the city and have you on a ship in but a few hours,” Mort said. “Don’t ask me to watch you starve. I have been trying to get in this room for days. It is too heavily guarded most times. We have to make good an escape now.”
“I will not lead this bitch back to my king!” Aaron snapped.
She pulled back.
This old rage bubbled up every time he thought of her. “I have to kill her before I leave or she will follow me back to Peter. This has to end here. I will not bring my problems to Peter’s war.”
“She cannot be touched, even by me, when she is in this room. She is too heavily guarded. Too fortified. I cannot make this offer again,” Mort said.
“You are too stubborn to let me be. You will find a way. Your precious goddess wants me freed, so you will haunt my captivity until you can break me out,” Aaron said. “Everything you do is for her anyway, isn’t it?” The bitter words rose up out of him. He fought to hold it all back, all the vitriol he ached to spew. He struggled under the weight of it all, and he laughed.
“The last time I saw you, Jordai interrupted when I tried to—” she began.
He could not hold it back. “You came to break me again. You came to hurt me by confessing some dark desire for us to be together again. You came to cloud my life with your deceit and sully my pure quest to serve Peter. You came to me then because you are selfish, Mort. You take what you want and you leave when it suits you. I want nothing from you. I want no soft words spoken in sacred candlelight. I want none of your love or lust or whatever you want to give me. I want you to either help me kill her or leave me behind, but what I don’t want is your words. Whatever truths you think you have to tell me. Whatever quiet desires you wish to whisper to me, I am not interested. I am at war, Mort. I have been at war since the day I was born. You can help me fight it or you can walk away. Whatever you choose, I do not care.”
She stared at him with desperate eyes. She opened her mouth again and closed it.
“I will come back for you when the time is right to strike. I may have found aid. There is a player in this city who might come to help if I ask her to. Keep vigilant and wait for your moment. When you find it, I will be here,” she said.
“Bring those men closer, then gag me again and leave me bound. She will think I killed them.”
“You are bound and helpless,” Mort said.
“She will believe it,” Aaron said. “Don’t worry about that.”
The Things that Crawl at Night
Rayph met Dreark at the gates in the morning in a scribe’s garb with a light disguise spell to hide his face. Dreark wore the attire of a royal warrior, a member of the king’s guard, with medals and markings of high rank. The men who rode in the carriage wore the same sort of garb. They were stopped at the gate and Dreark demanded to see the city magistrate. Rayph joined them on their walk, the papers Smear had spent so long preparing in hand.
After much arguing and many oaths, soon the noble lord of the city was called. But the papers were in order, and the city officials could not deny the decree. The king himself had assigned Dreark the command of the city. To deny the order would incur the king’s wrath. As the man examined every detail of the document, Rayph stood by, content and unworried about Smear’s forgery skills.
By noon, Dreark stood the wall, staring out at the city he was now in charge of guarding. The disgruntled man whose job he had assumed stood nearby, scowling and muttering, and Rayph stood beside Dreark. Both touched their fetishes, though Dreark’s had been disguised to look like a badge of rank.
“You now have the city. Every street is under your command,” Rayph said. “I want you to patrol them day and night. Keep your guards everywhere and count them when they come back in from a night’s patrol. You will lose many.”
“What about my personal Ganamaian guards? I will not lose them,” Dreark said.
“Their rank makes them more ambassadors of your will than beat guards. Keep them near you,” Rayph said. “You are a target now. Tristan will want the captain of the guard as one of his. Keep your Ironwood on you and be ready for anything. As soon as we have proof, I want you to make a statement, throwing back the cover of the vampires that hide here. We want these citizens to wake up to the fact that they are being hunted.”
“Will they believe it?” Dreark asked.
“I have a plan for that. We will give them undeniable proof when it is time. Until then, keep an eye on the city and keep me posted.”
“One more thing, Ivoryfist. Garrison said this one last job and no more. I am to report back to Windlyre when I am done here.”
Rayph patted his shoulder and nodded. “You will be missed.” He walked away and headed for a place to sleep.
Smear sat in a chair overlooking the city when Rayph walked into his room. “Anyone see you get in?”
Smear shook his head, distracted. “She did good,” he said.
“She is one of us. She knows her job, and she is an expert at it.” Rayph cast spells of protection on the room and its entry points. “You can’t protect her, Smear. She doesn’t need that.”
“I know that. I do. It’s just that I can’t get it out of my head. One false move and she would have been ripped apart by those pirates. And what did she do with Horsehair? She didn’t listen when you told her it was a bad idea to take him. What if he got the better of her?” Smear said. “We can’t even check on her ’cause she is not wearing her fetish.”
“She is getting in tight in this city, building contacts and reputation,” Rayph said. “She has little time to do it, and it must be done right. Give her time to do what she does.”
“That sword cut straight through those iron shackles. How did it do that?” Smear said.
“That was my wedding gift to her. I crafted it myself,” Rayph said. “It can do a lot more than that simple feat. If she keeps it on her, she will be fine. We need rest. The room is impregnable. Close your eyes. You will need to be sharp tonigh
t.”
Three hours of sleep and both men arose, fully awake and ready to go. Smear checked his weapons and slipped out the window. Rayph changed his disguise and headed out the door. The disregard spell he put on himself insured no stray eye would mark his passing. It would not work on people of high power, but it would be enough to keep prying commoners’ eyes off his disguise changes.
He walked the streets as the sun slipped down, and he made his way to the higher society side of town. His wealthy garb and slight magical aura would catch the attention of any prowling vampire. He browsed the shops, talking to shopkeepers and other merchants. Rayph neared the statue of the first Poison King, and he stopped to look the man over.
Over the last hundred thousand years, many spells had been cast upon it to keep it from crumbling to dust. The large monument displayed a powerful, cruel looking man gripping two cutlasses and staring out at the city at large with wrath in his eyes. Rayph wondered what it had been like to stand before such a man so many years ago. He thought of him kneeling before Pax, and he shook his head.
“King Crease they had called him,” a broken voice said over Rayph’s shoulder. He turned to see a remarkably tall, older woman, dressed in fine clothes, smoking a rolled cigarette that smelled of exotic tobacco. “Most dreaded of the pirate captains this side of the world. Slaver, murderer, rapist and thief, Crease did it all until he met her.” She pointed to the woman curled up around Crease’s leg. If her rendering was at all accurate, then that woman had been a beauty of no compare.
“Love tamed the monster, and he retired his ship and built this city. The poison trade picked up shortly after, as hemlock is the only real crop that will grow outside this city.” She cackled. “Poison capitol of the world right here. Hemlock is good for many things. Some idiots have even taken to using it to brew ale, though it is bitter and accumulates in the blood and eventually kills the sot. Alchemists from all over the world came to the Poison King’s city to learn and work.”
The head of the pirate was all that still shined in the waning sun that stretched from the shadow of the city walls. “Well, what has brought you to this town, salesman?” She was strong, lean with long muscles and taut body. Rayph’s earlier estimation of her age suddenly changed. She seemed to get younger as he watched.
“Strife and darkness,” Rayph said.
“Plenty of that here.” Her lips smacked as she spoke, and she stepped closer. Rayph turned his back to her, looking about the courtyard for any other signs of life. “One might say this is the hub of the nation’s darkness these days.”
“Rayph, there are four people not far from you. I am having trouble keeping an eye on them. They seem to blend in with the encroaching shadows,” Smear said through the fetish. Rayph nodded, hoping Smear could see it, and turned to the woman no more than a pace from him. Her breath stunk of sour blood. Her eyes shined with a demon’s light, so fascinating that Rayph stared, trying to puzzle out the mystery of her eyes.
“Six now,” Smear said. “They are converging on you, boss. Boss? Still with me? Boss?”
Rayph heard the words as if far off. He stared at the woman’s captivating eyes. Her mouth opened as she leaned closer. “You will be mine, dear one,” she said. “Mine forever. I will not let them take you away from me. I like your face, stranger. You are a pretty one. I am intrigued by your scars.” She grabbed him by the neck and flicked her tongue across the skin of his throat.
“Rayph, get out of her eyes now!” Dreark shouted. “Drelis, we need you!”
The words radiated in his head, and Rayph realized he had stepped into the pit. He was slipping away, and he closed his eyes, blotting the woman’s gaze from his own. He flinched as her lips sealed on his throat, and she moved to close her teeth on his flesh.
“No,” he murmured.
He heard vicious words, and the woman was ripped away. Rayph opened his eyes and his head cleared. Drelis tossed the vampire to the ground and slammed a foot on its neck. From the folds of her black lace dress, Drelis pulled a wicked Ironwood dagger, and with a slight scream, stabbed the vampire in the chest. The woman howled, thrashing and kicking, as her minions closed in.
Drelis stepped back and Rayph put his back to her. Ten now, then eleven, and the woman at their feet continued to scream and thrash. “Leave the dagger where it sits. Ironwood won’t kill them, but it renders them helpless. We will take her out later.” Rayph spoke a word, and the air ripped open above his hand. His Ironwood sword dropped into his grasp, and he touched his fetish, now disguised to look like a brooch.
Twelve, and they seemed to stop. Three of them climbed the walls of the building Smear stood on, scrambling on all fours like an animal. Rayph cursed as the ones before him dropped to their hands and knees and hissed.
Drelis spat out a word. From her hand snapped a whip of fire. She cracked it on the ground, and it sparked and smoked.
“Smear, you have three coming your way,” Rayph said as the first vampire before him leapt into the air, flying claws and feet at him. Rayph growled out a word of power and the strength of many men roared in his body. He caught the vampire in the air and slammed him to the ground. He stabbed the heart with the Ironwood sword. The vampire screamed and hissed, its mouth bubbling with froth as it thrashed. More were coming. Rayph pulled an Ironwood dagger from his belt and stabbed the creature in the chest just fast enough to swing his sword out and catch the next across the face.
The beast screamed as it drew back, its face gashed open and steaming. It dropped to the ground shrieking, and Rayph looked out. Drelis cursed and lashed with her whip. Vampire after vampire screamed and hissed, but they were coming too fast.
“How are you faring up there?” Rayph asked.
Smear cussed and grunted but said nothing.
Rayph pushed back into Drelis. She shook her head. “Too many.”
A rip in the air, and a portal opened, showing darkness and stars beyond. Someone stepped through the gap. Rayph grinned as Dissonance swung into the battle.
As if from far away, he heard her praying, and he concentrated on the fight before him. Dissonance carried no spear. She wielded her Ironwood daggers with a breathtaking beauty Rayph had no time to admire. Smear laughed, and Rayph saw the first of the Ironwood arrows raining from the sky. The vampire before him dropped to the ground, screaming, and Rayph laughed as the tide began to change.
In less than a breath, they stood amongst a score of vampires shouting and thrashing. Rayph looked up at his crew and nodded.
“Gotta get back. Gotta prepare for something big,” Drelis said.
“Go. We have this under control,” Rayph said. “Thanks.”
She nodded and disappeared into a portal.
“Smear, you and Dissonance take nineteen of them back to Ironfall. Tie them up facing the sunrise and question them. I’ll take her,” Rayph kicked the tall beauty at his feet and smiled, “to Dreark for display in the town.”
“The guards are almost on you. You had better be quick,” Dreark said. “Can’t explain you to the city guards. Get her and go.”
Rayph pulled a pocket of air around the screaming vampire and stuffed her in it. He spoke a word and lifted into the air. The darkness of night hid him from all prying eyes as he flew through the city. The streets seemed to be abandoned, and Rayph realized the city knew it was being hunted, though it did not seem to know by what. Rayph turned his flight toward the jail and the spot Dreark had set up for headquarters. He landed on the roof, the door popped open, and one of Dreark’s Ganamaian men marched out. Rayph reached into his pocket of air and pulled her out. Her screams lifted into the air before Rayph spoke a word, and she went silent. He could still see her mouth open and her screech standing out in panic and dismay, but the silence from her was profound.
“We will take it from here, Ivoryfist. Thank you.” The man threw her over his shoulder and carried her away.
The Cleansing of Fire
Rayph waited in the crowd in front of a stand overlooking the
courtyard where the fight had been the night before. Dreark stood atop the stage with the lord of the city beside him. The crowd had been assembled by the ringing of the bells in the tower. A wonderful mix of common man and upper class stood around, seeking the reason they were all called forward.
Yoah, Lord of Hemlock, stepped closer and lifted his arms over the crowd. Silence came late and reluctant, and Rayph waited with bated breath.
“Citizens of this fine city and the fiefdom beyond. Many great and terrible things have happened of late. The fires have consumed the crops. Many farms have been evacuated, and their people came here to find refuge. The whole of the fiefdom is in upheaval, and I promised you answers many weeks ago. Now our own town has begun to show signs of disappearance. Many of our best have gone from us, hiding who knows where from the darkness of the city.
“Our king has seen our plight and sent us a deliverer. The mighty Sagon of northern Hesh has been sent to us, and in a single night, has brought our villain forward for us to behold. I wait alongside you for some kind of explanation as to the identity of our enemy.” He turned to Dreark. “Sagon, if you would please,” he said, motioning to the platform.
Dreark stepped forward, and the crowd buzzed. “I will have silence!” he said in a voice larger than the crowd. They all seemed to pull back as they drew closer, both frightened and comforted by the strength of his voice. “The things I have learned since coming here have been many. Many great and terrible truths have come to my attention. For one, your town can be proud in possessing some of the bravest, most well-organized and well-prepared guard forces in the whole of this nation. Your city is old and beautiful, and in many ways stronger in character because of its misfortunes.
“One misfortune I perceive is the constant insult of pirates and criminals. You are a city that kills. You produce many exotic poisons that infect the world, yet your people have not become dark and twisted by this work. You have much to be proud of, Hemlock, and it is an honor to come to you in this time of need. Not many cities could survive the kind of horror that has descended on you. But I fear not the lack of mettle that I would in a normal city facing such a plague.”
