Void Emissary: The Book of the Void Part 1

by Lon Varnadore

  Pieter felt Tellish grab the servant’s neck and squeeze with the Void. Before Pieter could draw, there was a pop and crunch of bone that echoed in Pieter’s ears. The lifeless body dropped, and Tellish looked at Pieter with a dark grin. For a moment, Pieter thought he saw a tinge of red chase by the Cerberi’s face. He can’t be using the Rift. I’d feel it.

  “Do you want to continue what happened on Mars?” Tellish asked.

  Pieter was mute for a moment. As he opened his mouth, his hand grabbed his sword, Samuel shouted out, “Tellish. Stop. That is an order.”

  Tellish glared at Samuel, who swept in and knelt before the servant’s corpse. Pieter looked up, ready to pull his sword if he had to protect Samuel. Instead, Tellish placed his sword on his back, glowered at Pieter, and stomped away.

  Confused, Pieter looked down to see Samuel, who had embraced the Void and a nimbus of energy surrounded his shoulders. Two appendages grew from the nimbus of blue light, reaching down with the Healer’s Gift to probe and delve into the servant’s neck. “It is too late, Samuel, Tellish killed the man.”

  “He isn’t dead, Pieter. It looked bad, and it sounded bad. Yet, there is much that I can do,” Samuel said. The dark bruises on the man’s throat already started to lighten and Pieter was stunned when the servant’s eyes opened up and he looked at Samuel and Pieter. Then, he tried to move.

  “Shh,” Samuel said. “It is alright.”

  “What, what happened?”

  “You have been saved,” Samuel said. His arms of light slowly evaporated and Samuel stood, with the help of Pieter. Pieter then reached down to help up the servant. The servant nodded and garbled out a “Thank you.” He then retreated away from the pair and disappeared.

  Samuel tried to leave when Pieter stopped him with a hand. “How long has Tellish been like that?”

  Samuel looked at Pieter with sober eyes. “Since Mars.”

  “He must be brought back to the Embassy. He’s at risk of being swallowed by his Rift.”

  “Did you feel anything like the Rift on him?” Samuel asked.

  “No. But—”

  “You are a Hunter. You see the Rift everywhere.”

  “He killed a man!”

  “No. The man is alive.” Samuel gave Pieter a smile. “It is good a ‘renowned Healer’ was here, isn’t it?”

  Pieter looked at his former teacher. “Tellish is a danger. He needs to at least come to the Embassy for—”

  “I said you see Rifters everywhere. Go and have that breath of fresh air. Calm yourself. I will talk to Tellish, and then we can all talk about this like rational gentleman.”

  Pieter looked at Samuel for a moment. He then pulled away from the Void. He took a deep breath. “You are right. I will go and calm down a little, but still, be careful Sam.”

  “I will, Pieter, I will.” Pieter turned and walked out into the hallway. Seven and Nine clomped along behind him. “You two, stop.”

  “Sir, we—”

  Pieter cut Seven off. “Do me a favor and go watch after Samuel. He needs to be protected. No arguments,” he said to Nine who raised a thick bronze finger to say something.

  The two steamjacks’ shoulders lowered for a moment, then turned around and started back towards the ballroom. That was easy, Pieter thought as he slipped outside. The snow was starting to gently fall. He pulled up his cowl and walked out onto the estate grounds of the Thalis manor.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Pieter slid his gloves on, furling and unfurling his hands to make sure they fit properly. It felt good to be outside and away from the people that he was forced to serve and protect. The snow crunched under his boots, and the smell of wood smoke from the manor permeated the area. He was sure Samuel wouldn’t see his mission as something of protection. The Healers were always the last to accept such things. Even those who served as diplomats and Travelers realized that at times, death was necessary. Tellish could be an issue, Pieter realized. If the Cerebri tried to move against me, it could cause collateral damage.

  He reached out to the Void, feeling a small part of himself touch the rest of the universe. The power of the Void felt exquisite, nothing felt as divine. Yet, he knew what could happen if he held it for too long without control and allowed it total freedom. He sought the center again, to relax and to try and find what could happen if he carried through with his mission. Though not well-trained as a Seer, he had a small talent for it.

  The moment he skimmed past today, he saw death. Bodies of families, great and small, The Miller-Kanz, Thalis, Shen, Stradh… all had body after body heaped upon their family crests. The blood and stench of death shocked him from his trance. He staggered back a step and released the Void, not wanting its power to react to his fear. Something is very wrong. Yet, I have to follow orders.

  It was his duty. What was it his old Master Amand had said? Duty and the weight of it? He pushed the thought aside and focused on his surroundings. He looked back at the compound. Outside, the Thalis compound resembled a fortress.

  True, they tried to dress it up as a castle, making it look like it was a lavish place with merriment and happiness. Lights from oil lanterns with different hued glass were strung along the walls of the castle, bunting of all the Five Families decorated the outside of the stone walls. He could see the strength in the old walls. This castle was ancient. Old as some of the first buildings of Europa he was sure. He knew that it was a place of great power. He didn’t even have to embrace the Void to feel the strong connection to it. This was a place that the Void Emissaries could use, probably had used when they were first exploring the worlds. Pieter was of the minority opinion that the Emissaries should take back what was once theirs. They had ruled long enough, and had taken their own problems and wrestled with them in their small towers “granted” to them by the five families a thousand years ago, when he Imperium took control.

  It sickened him that he had to live in such a small place. That he—

  He stopped the line of thought, felt his body starting to take calming breathes of its own volition. His body did not betray him, simply went through the exercises taught to him and drilled into him for so long that it was automatic. He need only get close to a touch of anger and his body would start the slow breathing, his arms and legs folding in and allowing him to sit where he was to calm and center himself. He smiled a little at the thought of what a peasant would think if one were to come upon him as he meditated.

  I wonder what it feels like, he thought. Curious, he opened the connection to the Void and felt the thick pulse of power that was indeed kept inside the walls of the Thalis compound. He took a deep breath of the cold air outside and let the flaring radiance of the Void warm him to the point that he closed his eyes for a moment of meditation. Pieter sensed something floating in the Void. There were heartbeats. Something was strange about them, something wrong.

  Pieter sensed three men moving closer and closer. He opened his eyes. Their faces were covered in black garb, and their hands held sharp daggers. They looked wrong somehow. As if holding themselves like men who didn’t know how to stand properly and were trying to mimic the stance of a man.

  “Told ya, he wouldn’t be asleep long. Shoulda hit him with an arrow before now,” one said in a thick Urlish accent. Again, something was off with man’s speech to Pieter’s ear.

  “Quiet Pip, he can read your mind now,” the second, and smallest of the three said, while one hand held a small medallion of iron.

  “And, do you think that bauble will protect you?” Pieter asked, making a point to gesture with a hand at the one holding the medallion. He stood up, causing the three men to back up a step.

  “Of course it will. Its black iron. And everyone knows that Emissaries hate the feel of it and can’t use their magics on you if you wear it.”

  Pieter felt a laugh bubble up from inside him. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time. “And who is ‘everyone?’” Pieter was relieved some of the old superstitions held sway. Easier to manipulate the uninform
ed.

  “The whole clan knows that,” the man said.

  “Gherith, shut ya gob!” the one called Pip said.

  Pieter looked from the first one, to the second, and then the third, who was standing apart from his two compatriots. “And, do you have any homespun wisdom to share?”

  He shook his head and took a step back. His right hand rested on a short sword that looked to be ancient. The dagger was pointed down. Hmm, he has a guard position. Pieter held out his right hand and the witchwood sword flew to his hand with a thought. “Now, do I need—”

  Before he could finish, the silent man attacked. There was a thrum of something eldritch and the three were quiet, moving as one. The short sword stabbed forward with speed. In the pre-dusk light of the Eye of Jove and the waning sun, the blade was an ancient and black sword. Pieter could smell that the pitted thing was more rust than iron. Yet he still parried the blow, dropping into a guard stance of his own.

  “He’s daft! I thought you said he was smart, Pip.” Gherith said, jerking forward to try and slash at Pieter.

  Pieter knocked Gherith’s blow aside with his palm, his witchwood sword coming up and slicing clean through the man’s dagger hand. Gherith let out a scream of shock that was silenced by Pieter’s sword cutting through the man’s head from ear to ear. A smell of oil and grease filled Pieter’s senses.

  Pip stood still, while the silent man started to circle around. Pieter started to circle as well, using the utterly still Pip as the center point to dance around. Pieter reached out to touch the mind of the silent man and felt something block him. Pieter was stunned for a moment. He has some training. I’ll give him that. He pushed harder and felt something claw back at him, a mental attack. This isn’t good.

  With a blur of motion, the silent man lunged forward, past Pip, and his sword tried to bite into Pieter’s side. The blow was met by a air. Pieter tried to make a grab for the man’s blade, yet pulled his hand back, when a second of warning came to him and jerked his hand backwards. A second later, the silent man’s dagger cut through the air where Pieter’s hand had been.

  More than a little training, Pieter thought. He felt a drop of sweat on his brow. Whoever this attacker was, he knew what he was doing. Pieter had been duped into relaxing his guard, thinking them to be country bumpkins trying for a quick score.

  The silent man rounded on him, trying for a brutal slash down. Pieter brought up his sword in time and with a clash of light from his sword, the man was driven back. Pieter worried his sword was hurt. He didn’t have time to touch its core. A purr, then a growl in his head, told him things were well. The silent Pip started to move at that moment, jumping forward to stab at Pieter. Then, at the edge of his hearing, Pieter heard a keening. It changed pitch again and again, like a song. As it varied, the movements of the man began to vary as well. Some kind of signal?

  The silent man and Pip both made lunges for him. Pieter’s sword met the blows of the silent man. The witchwood finally hewed through the rotted and pitted black iron. For a moment, the two stopped and did nothing. The thrum intensified and both attacked Pieter at once.

  Pieter cuffed Pip in the face, slamming his elbow into the youth’s face. He felt the flesh yield to the strike and the boy went down in a boneless heap. He focused on the silent man, who started to circle around to Pieter’s left. With only a broken sword and dagger, the silent man was good. Pieter circle with him, the two of them looking for an opening. Pieter found none, and neither did his opponent. They circled for another full minute. The silent man stopped with a sudden jerky step, turned on his heels, and left

  “Where are you going?” Pieter shouted. “What in the bloody—”

  Again, his body started to do a deep breathing to stop the anger from building too much. He felt himself shake for a moment and stopped. He allowed his body to continue to breathe, letting the cold air calm him. He then looked down at the ruined face of Pip, who was struggling to try and breathe. Pieter took the boy’s head in his arms. “Why were you attacking me?”

  “We was hired to,” Pip said.

  “Who hired you? That silent—”

  “Yes. Something about ‘testing’ you.” Pip coughed and spit out blood and a tooth. “Please, Emissary, heal me. Please.”

  Pieter looked at the boy and felt a small bark of a laugh come out. He let it. “Heal you? After you attacked me?” He then noticed the blood wasn’t all red. Some of it was tinged green and black. What in the Void?

  “You’re an Emissary. You have to. Me mum said—”

  Pieter embraced more of the Void, took Pip’s head by the sides and crushed it together. “Void Emissaries should heal when they can,” he said. “Yet, they also have a right to defend themselves.” He dropped the ruined piece of flesh that was Pip’s head and started to wash the worst of the blood off his gloves with snow. He would need a short bath before the ball. Or… He thought and focused on his coat and detected the blood and brain matter on his black jacket. He pulled at it with the Void, letting it gather in a small ball of gore before dropping it onto the husk that was Pip.

  Pieter stood up and started to turn when the body started to tremble. A thick black slug the size of Pieter’s thumb oozed out of the ruined mouth of Pip. It moved in a jerky crawl, as though it was in pain. The cold and the snow of the place slowed it even more. Then, it shriveled to nothing.

  A wave of pain hit Pieter when the creature died. What was that thing? What in the Void is… Damn the time! He still needed to complete his mission. He would bring the attention of the attackers and the slug to his Master. But something ate away at him. He had never faced an attacker like the silent man. It ate at him a bit more.

  Looking at the way the sky darkened, allowing the Eye of Jove to grow brighter without the sun’s light to help strengthen it, Pieter judged he had about two hours before the ball started.

  He cast an eye at the fortress. “Sodding Hells.” He tried to go after the silent man. He stopped, looking back at the fortress. He shook his head. “I need to find out about the silent man. Master would understand.”

  For ten minutes, Pieter followed the tracks of the silent man. The footsteps got longer and longer, each step farther from the previous, as if the man were running. “How could he do this?” Pieter asked the air around him. “How could he be moving so fast?” Pieter didn’t feel the Void in the man. The mystery deepened, yet he had to return to the gala. He told himself he would go another quarter mile, and if he didn’t find anything, he’d return. Then, he caught another scent in the air. The sickly sweet smell of rot and old blood.

  He stopped where he was and felt torn. One way lead to whatever the smell was. The other was to return to the fortress and kill his target. If his target survived, the Five Families and the Imperium would fracture and a war could start. If he didn’t investigate the silent man, then some unknown danger would be set loose on the planet. Not to mention the smell of death. The two had to be linked. He took another step towards the tracks.

  Duke Harkness will still be there when I get done with this, Pieter thought. He would investigate and return to the fortress. He nodded to himself and pushed on, following the tracks and the smell. A handful of steps later, he passed a sign.

  Village of Emthal.

  He embraced the Void to sharpen his senses more. The smell grew worse. The wan light of the Eye of Jove gave off enough illumination for him to see. He pushed forward, his sword held at the ready. Moments later, he came into a large clearing in the forest. Three dozen huts and one stone and timber building stood. There were no lights in the village, which was strange. Then, he tried to listen and the only thing he heard was the caw of crows, many crows. When Pieter drew closer, he saw why there was no light.

  Every villager had been slaughtered.

  Pieter looked at the village, stunned by the amount of destruction. There wasn’t a single person left alive. Nothing moved except for the dozen ravens that picked at the corpses. He shook his head, “What in the Hells happened
here?”

  He moved to one of the small wooden homes that were scattered around the central square. The door was broken open and the remains of a family were inside. Their bodies cut to pieces by some kind of blade. He was sure at least one of the attackers had died here as well, since an arm holding a meat cleaver that didn’t belong to the other four bodies was there. He shuddered at the carnage. The smell burrowing into his skin. He pushed the sensation away, feeding it into the fire to stop himself from thinking about it or even registering it in his mind.

  He walked outside, and a few ravens cawed at him before going back to their feast. Walking to another random house, finding the same kind of carnage there. This one was a baker’s shop from the burnt-bread smell that was a soft patina over the smell of drying blood and rotting flesh. Pieter estimated that the bodies were at least three days old from the state of decay and the way the ravens had gotten into the corpses outside. How could this be unknown for three days? Surly someone from the Thalis estate or even the city of Thal would have known something was wrong.

  Wind started to blow through the skeletal trees. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself. The winter on Europa was worse than he remembered. The cold bit deeper into him. While embracing the Void, he pushed the cold away, though it made concentration harder. He moved, and his breath frosted in the air. He slipped in the snow. He fell, looked up, and realized that it had saved his life.

  A corpse had stood up and moved towards him, a one-armed corpse that had a frozen rictus of hatred on its face. It swung a meat cleaver awkwardly at where Pieter’s head should have been. It looked down, the eyes pure black pools with viscous oozing black that dripped down its ruined face. Pieter scrambled forward, thrusting out a hand and sending a shockwave of power to knock the thing down. The shockwave hit the corpse and it cut the thing in half.

  Pieter stood up with his witchwood blade in hand. It was thrumming with energy, a faint warning in its slim hilt. He opened his mind fully to the Void. The reek of the corpses bloomed in his nostrils, making him want to gag. The cold bit deeper. His eyes focused, the faint caw of ravens boomed in his head. He shoved the sensation down, looking around, moving his head, scanning for any kind of movement. He held the sword in a ready position, sweeping to one side, then the other, to help detect something that would try and sneak up on him.