He barely had a moment to look around the common room before he saw the bloodstained floor where Elsa had lain—he was standing in the middle of the spot. Right next to the spot, the creature that took her life sprawled, his head resting a few paces to the left. Tomas grimaced and moved away from the counter, finding more candles and lighting them with the flame of the one he held in his hand. Once the room was lit well enough for his eyes, he decided it was time to accomplish the task, as it should have been done hours ago. Only he hadn’t known then. He didn’t want to waste another moment, so he walked with purpose towards the door leading into the kitchen.
Tomas did not find it strange that the innkeeper was still absent, for Master Elwin often left Elsa and Jaimen, the cook, to take care of the place. That was if he wasn’t too drunk. If he had consumed one too many spirits, he stumbled upstairs to one of the rooms and slept the night away. It would have made more sense for the owner of an inn to simply live in the place, but the man who ran The Hound’s Rest was an odd fellow.
The young lord stopped short of pushing the door open. He took a deep breath and let it out. His heart pounded, and he felt pangs of fear bubbling up inside of his belly.
“Now is not the time to lose your courage,” he spoke aloud.
He reached out, his hand trembling, and pushed the door open. Within the short span of time it took him to step into the kitchen, Tomas had unsheathed his sword with his free hand.
“Where is she?”
He was looking right at the benches he had placed Elsa’s body upon, but she wasn’t there. The only sign that a corpse had ever been placed on them was the small pool of blood that still hadn’t managed to soak into the wood.
Tomas placed the candle on a small table and gripped the sword with both hands. On the far side of the kitchen, his target knelt, its back to him. The thing made a strange gurgling sound and crouched lower, burying its head into the neck of a rather dead, rotund man. By the dim candlelight, the young lord thought he could see an apron tied around the victim.
“Jaimen!” Tomas yelled. “You’re eating Jaimen!”
The creature that had once been Elsa Deros—the woman he loved—did not look up from its meal.
* * *
Valthian made sure that Alain was able to ride away on one of the calmer horses in his family’s stable, and then headed out into town on foot. There were only five good horses left that he trusted for riding, and he wanted to make sure that his mother could have her pick of them, so he left them all behind. Besides, it might be easier to find his father and brother if he walked. The night had grown much colder, so he wrapped himself in a thick pelt. It was more than enough to keep him warm, although it was not as elegant as the clothes he was accustomed to wearing.
Valthian made his way through the market, glancing once in the direction of his brother’s favorite inn.
“It’s shuttered for the night,” he whispered. “There are no lights on. Perhaps it’s too cold for visitors and the old man didn’t bother opening up.”
The Hound’s Rest had an eerie look about it, lights out and dark clouds looming above it. Valthian shook the chill from his bones and kept walking. Finding Tomas where he was expected to be would have been far too easy, especially when he was needed for a matter of such urgency. If the damned inn had been opened like it should have been, and the boy was inside drinking watered down ale and gambling, half of Valthian’s mission would be accomplished and they would be that much closer to leaving the village behind forever.
We’re truly leaving Solstice.
The thought saddened him, but the wheels had already been put into motion. True, he had only seen a few of those things, but that was more than enough to confirm the stories that had been coming in from the neighboring villages.
Some of those villages were gone.
That bit of news had played a major role in his choice. If those places had been burned to the ground because of the dead rising from their graves, Solstice could be next. He had heard that few people were spared; even many of the ones who were not sick had been killed for good measure. He did not want to stand idly by and watch as the same fate befell the people he loved. No home was worth that much, not even if you had lived there your entire life. The memories would be enough to remind him of his birthplace. Someday, maybe they could return.
Valthian rounded a corner and stopped running. There was smoke rising just down the path. Even through the darkness and thick clouds overhead, he could see the tendrils coming from the direction of the only schoolhouse in the village.
“No,” he gasped. “Not the school!”
He breathed deeply of the cold winter’s air and ran.
* * *
“Get ready to charge this forsaken pit of damnation,” Balin called to his men. “We shall burn every last part of Solstice until the very ground upon which it stood is scorched straight into the abyss! These are the orders of your king!”
His vast throng of soldiers encircled the entirety of the village, just out of sight of anyone who might take notice. According to the king, and the supposed holy man, the place was condemned to host the vile creatures of which he had vowed to cleanse Alvanshia, lest he do what was necessary to ensure that the world could thrive. Although he mourned for the souls of each man, woman, and child lost, some part of Balin also wondered what the people in these villages had done to provoke such an evil to place curses upon them. Whatever they had done, he realized that not all of the villagers were responsible, and that is why he chose to honor their traditions once the cleansing was complete.
“Ready the trumpeters,” Balin said, motioning around the perimeter he had set. “I want every last soldier to charge once the call has been made.”
Johak nodded and spurred his gelding forward. Balin wasn’t sure why the old man preferred such a docile horse, but he was more than happy to let him ride whatever animal he wished. Lightforger—The captain’s own warhorse—a stallion that only he had been able to tame, pranced in place for a moment, clearly not accustomed to being still. He had trained the horse to obey his commands, but it was only right that Lightforger protest somewhat. Perhaps the horse sensed the same evil as he did, dark and foul, emanating from the village like some unholy shroud of death.
Several minutes lapsed before Johak returned.
“The word is spreading among them. I suggest we take the lead before the call is sounded.”
He nodded at his assistant and seized the reigns, urging Lightforger forward. As far as Balin knew, this was the last village along the path leading to Vinter’s Edge. Once the task was completed here, he could return to the king and await new orders. It would be good to go back home, even if only to be sent back into the world soon after.
Both men had barely reached the line of soldiers they were to lead into Solstice when the trumpet call pierced the silence.
The cleansing had begun.
* * *
Tomas raised his sword and approached Elsa—or whatever the thing was now. This would be much harder on him than what he had done in the schoolhouse. Yes, those beasts had once been children, and putting an end to them had scarred his soul deeply, but this was the girl he had hoped to marry someday. The entire village had chided him for loving a simple commoner who spent her days slaving away at a rundown old inn, but he never cared. She might not have looked like much to those around her, but he had known what she was like on the inside.
He had found her to be beautiful.
“Damn you for making me do this,” he shouted, his voice quivering.
Tomas now hovered over the living corpse and slashed, passing his blade through its neck. He shivered as the head crashed into the open wound in the cook’s belly before rolling onto the floor.
He gathered his wits and forced himself to maintain a semblance of calm. Elsa’s body was now still, but it was in the way of his next target. The young lord reached down and seized the corpse by the arm, giving it a slight push. Jaimen—the cook—was in far worse sh
ape than he had thought. His belly was torn open, revealing his insides. The man’s throat had also been torn away. His apron, now tattered and stained a deep crimson, had been ripped free and lay in a pool of blood next to him. This could have been prevented, had Tomas known what was to come. He had heard of these creatures, but the one that attacked Elsa was the first the young man had ever laid eyes upon.
Well it won’t happen again, damn it.
He raised the sword once more and brought it down hard, freeing Jaimen of his head. The sword’s edge stuck in the wooden floor below, and Tomas had to pull up hard to jerk it free.
“Murderer! What have you done?”
He whipped around, raising his sword once more, coming face-to-face with Master Elwin.
“Tomas?” The innkeeper stammered. “You’ve killed them, child!”
The young lord felt the color drain from his face. “It isn’t what you think. She wasn’t herself anymore!”
Master Elwin backed away. “I don’t want any part of this, boy! You keep away from me!”
“Damn you,” Tomas cried. “She was already dead when I got here! You don’t understand what is happening!”
“Rightly true,” the innkeeper replied, still backing away. “And I don’t reckon I care to understand. I was never here. Do you hear me? I was never here!”
The man was clearly drunk; Tomas could smell the spirits on his breath, even from across the room. The only thing left to do to keep the innkeeper from causing a stir was to restrain him; otherwise he might run through the village, knocking on doors, condemning the entire De’Fathi family as murderers.
“Master Elwin, it is very important that you let me explain what has happened. I promise I won’t hurt you. How long have you known me, Old One? Have I ever been the type to cause trouble?”
“No,” the innkeeper said quietly. “But you have to see things from my angle. There’s corpses in the room and you’re holding a bloody sword in your hands. I might not be a learned man, but I know enough not to trust someone I just saw cut the heads off of two innocent people I’ve known their whole lives!”
Tomas sighed. The man was going to make this far more difficult than it needed to be. Of course he understood how Master Elwin felt; he would feel the same way if he walked into a room and saw what the old man had seen. It was impossible to witness such an atrocity without first knowing the why of it. Unfortunately, that was something most people would never come to grasp in their lifetimes, and Tomas had to get back to his father as soon as he could. There would be no stopping word from spreading come morning, and Philip De’Fathi was the only man who could help the villagers make sense of—
His last thought was cut short by the bellow of horns sounding from outside. Tomas had never heard such a racket in his life, but it sounded to him like more danger coming his way.
“What in the bloody hell is that?” Master Elwin yelled.
“Gods man, I don’t know, but you better find a cellar or empty room to hide in.”
“I will not stay in the same place as bleeding corpses,” he replied. You can’t make me do such a thing!”
“Then whatever is out there will likely turn you into a corpse just like those two!” Tomas said sternly. “Now find someplace safe and stay there! I’m going to see what I can find out!”
Tomas didn’t wait for a response from the drunken old man. He turned and ran for the door, leaving the innkeeper alone with the bodies of Elsa and Jaimen. Only moments ago, he had been convinced that this night could not get any worse.
Now he didn’t believe it would ever get any better.
Chapter 19
VALTHIAN STOPPED dead in his tracks and looked around. Horns had sounded, seemingly out of nowhere, and then the first rider appeared in the distance. At first, the young lord thought that he was in the grip of one of those recurring nightmares that plagued his sleep, but this was real. The frozen ground crunched beneath his feet as he shook off the initial shock and started running again. The cold air nipped at his arms, neck, and face as he worked to put distance between himself and the rider.
This was no dream. It was very real.
Valthian tried to duck down a side street, but more riders awaited him, so he kept moving along the path leading to the burning schoolhouse.
Were these men behind that?
He was not one to make assumptions, but it seemed too much of a coincidence. These could have been raiders, coming to steal whatever they could from a village of farmers. They likely did not know that a lord of Vinter’s Edge lived among the farmers, but true raiders would not care to lose a few men over the chance of obtaining an even greater bounty from a family of wealthy nobles.
He just managed to dodge out of the way of a large man clad in full armor. The bandit rode past him without notice and stopped at a small hut, raising a flaming torch high and tossing it onto neatly stacked bales of hay that sat upon the small wooden porch. The hay smoldered and burst into flames. It only took a moment for the fire to spread to the hut. He heard the man bark a curse through the thick steel helmet he was wearing before riding off again.
Valthian gasped. The king’s men should have been keeping away bandits! Of course, Valthian was aware that Randil’s soldiers had been busy dealing with the aftermath of Grovenwell and Faire’s Wake. They had discovered those bodies burning and—
And then it hit him. Men in armor were riding through Solstice, setting homes on fire. No one was stealing anything. These weren’t raiders. The color of their armor—
These were King Randil’s soldiers! They hadn’t discovered those bodies burning in the neighboring villages. The soldiers themselves had been responsible. But why would they take innocent lives?
He made the decision right there not to let these men ride into Solstice and destroy what his family had helped build over the years. He did not care if the king himself, or someone else entirely, sent these soldiers. For all he gave a damn, the gods themselves could have commanded them to come here!
Valthian drew his sword and ducked behind a tree. There were now more men on horseback than he could count, and frightened villagers were emerging from their homes, wild-eyed and screaming. He saw one of the men ride close and he lunged from his hiding spot, slashing with his sword. He didn’t penetrate the armor, but the soldier fell from his horse, hitting the ground hard. While he was still stunned, Valthian ran to him, and immediately spotting a gap just above the breastplate, plunged his sword deep into his neck.
There was no time to worry about fighting honorably; these bastards aimed to destroy Solstice, and there wasn’t a thing that honor could do to stop it.
“Valthian!” A familiar voice boomed over the blaring horns and deafening clatter of shoed hooves. “Behind you!”
He spun around and dodged a polearm, then swung his sword with a single fluid motion. This one had not been wearing a helmet, and the force of the swing relieved him of his head.
“Father,” he called upon recognizing the speaker. “There is no hope of holding them off! We’re all going to die!”
Philip De’Fathi nodded and motioned for Valthian to follow. He caught up to his father and the two men ducked into an alleyway that was still free of horsemen.
“We need to save your mother,” Philip said, panting heavily.
“I sent her away. She and Elyna should be gone by now.”
“Where?”
“Molhadius,” Valthian replied. “I don’t have time to explain, but if they did what they were told, chances are good that they managed to escape.”
“And your brother?” Philip asked. “He had business at the inn.”
Valthian shook his head. “I have not seen him. The inn was completely dark when I checked.”
The sound of flames licking against the wooden planks of countless homes could be heard over the charging of soldiers, telling Valthian that there would be nothing left of the village to save by the time the king’s men finished the job. The screaming was growing louder as well. He had
sworn to protect these people, but what could two men do against hundreds? Why had so many soldiers been sent to such an insignificant place that was surrounded by nothing more than forest in every direction?
“What is happening here?” The voice came seemingly out of nowhere. Its owner stepped onto the road from a small building with a freshly painted sign hanging just above the open door, which signified the baker’s shop.
It was Tomas, Valthian realized with a sudden pang of joy.
“I had to hide in here when I saw the armed men approach. I saw the two of you hanging about outside through the window. Now get in here before you get yourselves killed. We have to come up with a plan that doesn’t involve us all dying!”
* * *
Abytheos stepped into the old church and closed the doors behind him. He had hoped to stay longer before such a catastrophe took place, but it was sometimes necessary to improvise when opportunities were presented. The fools of this village had seemed content with battling the dead than listening to his words, and that is why the plan had to be altered.
He had become a hard man in order to accomplish the tasks set forth by the one true god, but he still could not bring himself to revel in the deaths of innocent people; the women and children were especially difficult for him. Still, the book commanded him to obey, and he was compelled to please the One-God. He found a great deal of relief in the knowledge that those who must give their lives in order for the world to become a perfect paradise would be granted eternal rest for their sacrifices. These villager’s contributions would not go unnoticed.
He found a candle and lit it to help him find his way. The item in which he sought had to be here. The great book had told him that it would be hidden in one of three places, and Abytheos had already searched the other two. If Holy Scripture had not lied to him—he knew in his heart that the words rang true—it would be buried beneath the floorboards. He simply had to find a loose plank and pull it free.
The Winterstone Plague (The Carrion Cycle) Page 13
