by A J Allen
The Holy Seer raised her hand.
“Ethan, I command thee! Stop!” she cried out. Her own monks drew their swords.
Simon had never seen his Lordship so enraged, not even when he had fought the Necrolos. A shivering terror stopped his breath, yet he could not look away from the bewitched blade ready to plunge into the helpless girl’s heart.
Cold fury hardened his Lordship’s face. “What other explanation is there? She has joined their legion, become an unholy succubus and destroyer of men’s souls for the Choldath. She alone is responsible for the seduction and murder of Brennus. If we kill her now, we may yet break her spell on Robert and save his soul. You above all here know that to be true.”
The Holy Seer raised her quivering hand. “Ethan, please lower your weapon. The poor child has suffered enough and her death at our hand is exactly what our enemies intend.”
Jack stepped forward, hands raised in an appeasing gesture. “Please, your Lordship. Listen to the Holy Seer. From all we have seen and heard, the demons are the masters of deception. They deceive and trick us until we are vulnerable to attack for we no longer know what or whom to trust. You cannot act upon a demon’s word.”
Lord Lionsbury took a deep breath and bowed his reluctant assent to the Holy Seer’s demand. “For the moment, then, but you must give me good cause to stay my blade before she wakes, for—I tell you—it will be the demon staring through her eyes, and her soul will be lost.” He stepped back from Felicity and kept his sword drawn.
“I understand your anger but you must hear me out.” The Holy Seer pointed a shaky finger at the death-like woman. “The Craverston family have lost their fortune and lands through extravagance and debt; without a dowry, Felicity’s marriage within the nobility is not promising. Since her arrival, I have had her watched by a monk.
“She has been seen sneaking about Farrhaven without a torch, disappearing through doors in buildings long abandoned, only to reappear minutes later. We can only assume someone knew of her desperate circumstances and tempted her with an unholy promise to redeem her family’s status and wealth through marriage to a powerful noble.”
The Holy Seer looked upon the faces of each person in the room as if searching for a telling sign. “That same person may be in the same dire situation as the Craverstons. It would be a simple matter to find an ally in such a troubled and confused young woman who had already dabbled in the forbidden arts.”
Simon scratched his tunic trying to relieve the itchy skin around his chest brand. “Forgive me, Holy Seer, but it was Felicity. I’m certain of that now.” He looked at Rachel, carefully choosing his words and saying only what was necessary. Nothing more. Red speckles of shame and quashed lust patched across his skin like a beacon.
“She was the person I saw when I awoke a second time in the Corridor of Shadows.” He pointed to the vial on the table. “The proof is there. She used the essence of Eelamassi to gain entrance, just the same as us.”
Lord Lionsbury picked up the vial and sniffed. “But how could she come to possess it? These are locked in a vault and guarded day and night by the Holy Seer’s private guard.”
The Holy Seer folded her hands on the desk. “Lord Fromund, you say you found this vial by Felicity?”
“Yes. Within her arm’s reach… on the grass.”
The Holy Seer swiped her finger around the lip of the empty vial. She placed her fingertip on the tip of her tongue. “How strange. I did not imagine a simple mixture of clove oil and spirits would have the same effect as the purified essence of Eelamassi, yet to one unfamiliar with the subtle differences they would both taste and smell the same.”
She offered the vial to Simon. He sniffed at it, using his hand to waft its heady fragrance up into his sinuses. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Then how did we meet? There is only one way to enter the corridor.”
“No, child. There is another.” She slipped a hand beneath the folds of her white gown. “When a sacrifice is made to summon the Choldath, the person may request assistance in any dark design that furthers the demon’s plans, including an entry to the Corridor of Shadows.”
Lord Fromund gestured toward Felicity who lay curled like a squirming baby on the bedroll. “Then she is clearly the demon’s mistress who seduced and killed Brennus as Lord Lionsbury claims. She knew if the body should be discovered, it must appear as swift justice delivered by a noble to a runaway slave.” He ran his rough hand over his grizzled chin and licked his parched lips. “And what slave boy has not lain awake at night pleasuring himself to dreams of ravaging a noble’s daughter?”
He smirked at Simon, his gaze lingering deliberately there.
“A young stag full of his own juices would have followed such an alluring young lady to the edge and gladly jumped over into the abyss if that was the price to pay to lay between those silky smooth, highborn thighs.”
Simon’s face burned deep red.
Lady Bellemar bristled. “I cannot say I enjoy listening to Lord Fromond’s lurid account but nonetheless, his reasoning is sound. If she is responsible for the murder of Brennus, then she could so easily have seduced Robert for the enemy’s purpose of disrupting the rites and removing a rightful contender to the throne.”
“I am glad to hear we are of the same opinion, Lady Bellemar.” Lord Fromund bowed graciously. “And I apologize for my lewd account. Sometimes, only strong language can deliver harsh truth to sensitive ears.” He wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand and turned to the Holy Seer. “And did we all not think it strange your Holiness suddenly fell ill shortly after Felicity touched your hand during the selection of the protectors? We all saw it.”
Lord Lionsbury stepped toward the sleeping young woman in her bed. “That we did, Randar, and it has yet to be explained.”
Lord Fromund unsheathed his sword. “Our trusted friend, Ethan, is correct. By one terrible deception or another, this traitorous whore lying before us conspired with our enemy and entered the Corridor of Shadows with the intention of preventing Simon Blackfyre from ever compelling the demon to reveal itself.”
“That is true, Lord Fromund.” A sudden, thin chill hung on the edge of the Holy Seer’s words. “And in that quest she failed on both attempts, for this is the same vial she stole when she visited me as I convalesced in my chambers.”
Contempt etched the corner of Lord Fromund’s eyes. “You knew this, and yet still you allowed her to leave your bedside without arresting her?”
“The vial was tempting only to the desperate and placed there to draw them out. Felicity was troubled before she arrived at Farrhaven. She had been involved with a group of young nobles who naively delved into the dark arts more out of curiosity and boredom than conspiracy and treachery against their people.”
Lord Fromund eyed Simon. His Lordship’s lips twitched and his eyes blinked rapidly. “Let us give thanks then, that the boy has prevailed… and that he was, I take it, successful in his mission?”
The Holy Seer pointed to Felicity. “See how feverish the poor child is? Would you be kind enough, Lord Fromund, to cool her forehead with a damp cloth?”
Fromund frowned at the trembling woman on the floor as though he might contract the same unnatural malady by touching her.
“Surely one of your monks can better attend to her needs,” he said.
“But I have asked you, Lord Fromund. Is there a reason you will not place your hands on this poor soul to comfort her?”
“Go on then, Randar,” Lord Rabek urged with his quill. “What are you waiting for? You won’t catch anything. Do as your Holy Seer commands.”
Lord Fromund bowed with a respectful smile. “Of course, forgive me.” He raised his head. A glaze seemed to come down over his glittering eyes. “As you wish.” In a flash, he spun on his heel and rushed toward Felicity, his sword raised ready to strike her dead.
A blur of twinkling steel streaked by Simon’s head. He blinked and in less than a heartbeat, the Holy Seer’s dagger struck Lord Fromund on
the shoulder. He yelled and cursed, stumbling to one side and dropping his sword to the floor.
Lord Lionsbury and Mr. Joren stepped forward, pointing their sword tips at his throat.
The Holy Seer lowered her arm and sat down with a deep sigh. “Mister Joren, if you would be so kind as to retrieve my dagger. And give it just a momentary little polish on a cloth.”
Lord Lionsbury kept his sword trained on his fellow noble. “Stay where you are. We are all overcome by rage at the tragedy that has befallen us but if I must stay my sword until the truth is known, then so must we all.”
Joren handed the Holy Seer her dagger, now cleaned of the dripping, bright blood.
“And so, it shall be,” her Holiness said. “It is true his Lordship was overcome by rage but that is because Felicity still lives. If he places his hands on her he will bring her back from the corridor to reveal his true intentions.”
“You lying old witch!” Lord Fromund grimaced, his face reddening. He flashed around to Lord Lionsbury. “Ethan, you’ve known me for over thirty years since we first served in our late King’s regiment. As before, so it is now. I would lay down my life gladly to insure our new King sits upon his rightful throne.”
“It is not the fierceness of your loyalty I doubt, old friend, but to whom it is pledged.”
Fromund, his jaw tightening, gritted his teeth and pointed at the Holy Seer without looking at her. “If you want this traitor alive, then how do we know it is not she who conspires with the Choldath to destroy us?”
The Holy Seer inspected for signs of blood on her dagger, smiling and nodding silently at finding none. “My only regret is that I waited this long to confront you,” she said. “But I had to be certain.” She placed her weapon on the table. “And now it is too late to help you, Randar, and for that I am truly sorry and beg your forgiveness while I still can.”
A dangerous smile tipped Lord Fromund’s face hideously awry.
“Do you think I need your pity or your meagre apology, you disgusting old hag? His Majesty’s spirit grows within each who is worthy. He remembers all and forgives... nothing.” He slumped to his knees, grabbing his throat as if choking, barely able to speak. “See now, all of you, how the one true King rewards his faithful servants...”
Lord Lionsbury lowered his sword and reached out to help his friend.
“Randar?” he began. “What is—”
“Stand back, Ethan.” The Holy Seer ordered. “You cannot help him.” In a blur of sweeping movements, the monks grabbed Lord Lionsbury and dragged him back by the arms.
A wrenching, anguished scream erupted deep from inside Lord Fromund. His neck bent at a freakish angle to one side and his jaw snapped back off its hinges with a crack.
It was like a boot slamming into Simon’s stomach, choking off his breathing. He snatched the dagger off the table, the Holy Seer looking on, not raising a hand to stop him.
“Simon?” Rachel grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?”
“No!” Lord Lionsbury broke free of the monk’s grip.
Simon rushed by his Lordship’s outstretched hands and hurled himself toward Lord Fromund as the first ooze-covered legs of the crypt crawler emerged from the dying man’s bloody mouth.
Simon struck true and deep into the creature’s soft underbelly. It squealed and flashed its gnashing teeth. He yanked the skewered creature out of Lord Fromund’s engorged throat, its legs whipping in every direction trying to grab on to his face. He swung around and impaled it on the floor with the blade, pinning it so it couldn’t scuttle away.
Lord Fromund collapsed, a putrid shell in a heap of discarded offal and skin, all that remained of a once-respected and trusted defender of the realm.
Lord Lionsbury stood over the remains of his old friend. “If the ones we think we know best can be swayed, how can we fight an unseen enemy now concealing itself so easily in our midst?” He dropped himself in a chair and hung his head between his hands.
“You could not have known.” A monk helped the Holy Seer to her feet. “Lord Rabek and I suspected but could not be certain until I asked him to lay his hands on the poor girl. When he refused, I knew it would only be mere moments before he tried to kill her.”
The spider-like creature flailed its long, spiny crab legs and screeched, its saw-edged teeth grinding and clacking.
Lord Lionsbury studied it. “I thought he wanted vengeance out of anger and remorse over Brennus.”
“You are a good man, Ethan, and seek the best in others.” The Holy Seer placed a tender hand on his shoulder, proud, as his own mother might have many years ago. “Lord Fromund did not want to touch her for one simple reason. If he had done so, he would have brought her back and broken the demon’s spell over her.”
Rachel brushed back a blond lock from Felicity’s deathly white face. “Will she ever return to us?”
“I cannot say. Felicity may be forever scarred by the destiny she chose but I will see see receives the finest care at the Royal Infirmary in Avidene.”
“Mister Byrch was right then,” said Rachel. “He spoke the truth when we first discovered poor Brennus.”
The Holy Seer closed her eyes. “Yes, my child. It was Lord Fromund, though I do not believe he acted alone.”
Rabek turned a fresh page in his book. He dabbed his quill into the ink and began writing. “Let this account be duly recorded for all posterity. Neither Felicity Craverston nor Lord Fromund knew the vial was false. The recently-deceased noble presented the vial as evidence; he sought to divert the Council’s attention from the possibility that Paliter’s murder and sacrifice were the true reasons for Koldrin attempting to defeat Blackfyre in the Corridor of Shadows.”
Lord Lionsbury, the remorse sitting heavy on his weathered face, sheathed his sword and sadly gazed down at Felicity. “She was an unwitting servant, your Lordship, nothing more.”
Rachel dried her tears. “Whatever she might have done, she doesn’t deserve to be condemned to the tortures of madness. None of us does.”
The Holy Seer nodded. “Felicity and her circle never went further than offering small, slain animals… hence the powers granted were weak and transient, though it made her vulnerable to the demon’s growing power. I was certain I would recover from my illness and hoped Felicity might lead me to other vulnerable souls who had made the same mistake inside the King's Council.”
Lady Bellemar stared down at the squirming crawler. “You suspect more?”
“I cannot say for certain and that is why we anxiously await the final decision on Lord Delcarden’s fate. If he has perished at sea, then I will demand the King's Council convene for a full hearing into these events. High Priest Worlaw will be asked to join the Triumvirate. Together, we will agree on a plan to stop the Choldath before they spread to every village and town in the Kingdom.”
Simon knelt beside Robert, his face wan and clammy. “What can we do to help them, Holy Seer?”
“First, we remove the source of their unholy suffering.” A monk bowed and offered the hilt of his sword to her. The Holy Seer closed her eyes and intoned a silent prayer. The monk held the sword aloft and she kissed the blade. Without warning, he swiveled and struck the crawler, severing it in two down one side of the impaling dagger.
The two halves of pulpy flesh squealed and skittered on their legs across the floor in opposite directions. One piece hit the far wall, flopped over on its side, and began to sizzle and smoke, quickly decomposing like rotten meat.
The second hit the opening front door with a soft thud. Lord Dowrick, his face ashen, eyes wide with fear, stepped inside the chamber. He looked down at the putrefying puddle and covered his nose. “We… we have returned from the forest, Holy Seer.” He stared at Fromund’s moldering remains, appearing, at least to Simon, to be greatly relieved at the sight. “Forgive me, but it is worse than Mister Byrch first reported. I was wrong to judge the man without first seeing the evidence for myself.”
“Sit, Aubert.” The Holy Seer motioned to the near
est chair. “What did you see that now drains the life from your eyes?”
“It was as Byrch described yet… there were more, deeper in the forest… a family hanging from a tree.” He covered his face with his hands and breathed in deep, sobbing gasps. “We should have known better than to dismiss the threat. We have all been deceived by our deepest…” Lord Dowrick drew a sharp breath choking off the last words in his mouth.
He cleared his throat and lifted his head, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes. “Forgive me, I am overcome by this tragedy. By all signs, Mathurin and his people have abandoned their camp and moved deeper into the forest. Their present location is unknown and I advise against sending a scouting party until we are certain that no more bloodthirsty traitors remain within the walls of Farrhaven. I shall deliver a full report to your Holiness and the council in the morning.”
The Holy Seer looked at Lord Fromund’s moldering body. “You have seen what needs to be seen. That your eyes are now open and clear is report enough, my lord.”
Dowrick rose on shaky legs from the chair. He lifted the torn and bloody tunic from the pile with his sword tip.
“Who among us would have suspected our loyal Lord Fromund a traitor in league with our enemy? I trust then, you have found the one you were looking for, your Holiness?” he asked.
“Thank you, Lord Dowrick. Please have Felicity and Robert moved to the infirmary and release Byrch. He will know best how to clean and dispose of the refuse.”
Lord Dowrick looked appalled. “I admit that my refusal to believe such heinous acts were possible deafened me to the man’s testimony but surely, he must be punished for threatening members of the King's Council?”
“The lash of a whip will eventually heal but what Byrch has seen will mar his soul for the rest of his life, as I suspect, it will yours, Aubert. There has been enough punishment inflicted on the innocent. It is the truly guilty we must seek to suffer our wrath—or we shall only fall victim to theirs.”