As Mendeln focused on the path back, he belatedly noticed that the weather had taken an odd and very sudden turn. The day had been fairly clear and bright before, but now clouds began to gather in earnest to the west, as if in preparation for a major storm. The wind had also begun to pick up.
“That’s odd,” murmured Achilios, also evidently seeing the change for the first time.
“It is, yes.” Uldyssian’s brother did not understand the wind and weather in terms of hunting, as his companion did, but rather in measurements of currents and such. Mendeln constantly saw the aspects of farm life in such terms, and while Uldyssian—who knew weather only in how it affected his crops and his animals—constantly shook his head at his brother’s ways, he could not deny that once in a while Mendeln had come up with some idea that had helped ease their tasks a bit.
The clouds rapidly thickened. Mendeln said nothing more to Achilios about the strange weather, but at one point when the archer moved a step ahead, Uldyssian’s brother glanced back in the direction of the stone.
Glanced back…and wondered.
Uldyssian, too, noticed the peculiar shift in the weather, but chalked it up to one of those quirks of nature to which a farmer had to grow accustomed. He hoped that Mendeln would return soon from wherever Achilios had dragged him. Even then, it was likely that the two brothers would have to make part of the journey home in the rain. The sudden accumulation above hinted at a particularly powerful storm brewing, but Uldyssian hoped that perhaps it would hold for a time before unleashing its full force. If he and Mendeln could at least make it past the low fork, where the trail often flooded, then they would be all right the rest of the way.
Hands clutching the reins, he sat on the wagon eyeing the direction in which Serenthia had indicated the pair had gone. Both Mendeln and Achilios surely had sense enough to see what he did and react properly…at least, Achilios did.
As he waited, his mind drifted back to a face framed in gold. Even though Uldyssian had seen her only two brief times, he knew that he would not soon forget the vision of her. It had been due to not merely her beauty—memorable enough by itself—but the manner in which she had talked and acted. There had been that about the noblewoman that had instinctively made Uldyssian want to protect her as he had no other, not even his brother at the time of their family’s deaths.
Lylia. The farmer ran the name over and over in his thoughts, savoring the almost musical beauty of it.
The sky rumbled, finally jarring him back to the present. Recalling Mendeln, Uldyssian stood up in the hope of getting a better view. Surely the two had to be almost back in Seram by now.
A flash of green caught his attention, but not the green that made up part of the hunter’s woodland garments. Rather, it was an emerald green that instantly caused Uldyssian to jolt to attention, his brother and friend utterly forgotten.
Lylia slowly strode into the woods beyond, leaving the safety of the village. From her passive expression, it seemed very likely that she did not even notice the potential threat from the sky. In this region, the storms could suddenly grow so vicious as to uproot trees without warning.
Leaping down, Uldyssian secured the wagon, then headed after her. Although the farmer mostly ran after Lylia out of concern, excitement also filled him. He had no illusions about his chances with one of her blood, but at the same time his heart pounded at the thought of at least speaking with the noblewoman again.
Uldyssian caught sight of her again just as the wind doubled. Despite the worsening conditions, Lylia still appeared not to notice. Her lips were pursed and her gaze was fixed groundward.
Despite the swift pace Uldyssian kept, he did not manage to catch up to her until well into the woods. The towering farmer started to reach out a meaty hand, then thought better of it. He did not want to take any chance of frightening her more than he had to. Whatever weighed on her thoughts clearly weighed heavily.
Seeing no other option, Uldyssian cleared his throat.
Lylia straightened sharply, then looked behind her. “Oh! ’Tis you!”
“Forgive me, my lady—”
A shy smile immediately came to her lips. “I told you. To you, I am Lylia. What I once was, I can never be again.” As his expression turned to one of confusion, she added, “But what do I call you, sir farmer?”
He had not realized that he had never introduced himself. “I am Uldyssian, son of Diomedes.” A rattle of thunder reminded him of their current circumstances. “My—Lylia, you shouldn’t be out here. There’s what seems to be a fierce storm brewing! Best if you seek shelter, likely in the tavern. It’s one of the strongest of buildings in Seram.”
“A storm?” She glanced skyward and for the first time appeared to register the change. The clouds had thickened to the point that day had almost turned to night.
Daring her disdain, he finally took hold of Lylia by the wrist. “There doesn’t look to be much time!”
But Lylia instead turned her gaze in another direction…and a breath later let out a small gasp.
Uldyssian followed her eyes, but saw nothing. Nonetheless, the noblewoman stood frozen, as if whatever had caught her attention shocked her senseless.
“Lylia…Lylia, what is it?”
“I thought I saw…I thought…but, no…”
Even when he stood next to her, the farmer could see no cause for her alarm. “Where is it? What did you see?”
“There!” She pointed at a particularly dense area of the woods. “I…think…”
He was tempted to simply take her back to Seram and return after the storm, but the intensity of her reaction made him worry about what lay out there. Mendeln suddenly came to mind. Mendeln, who was still missing.
“Stay here.” Uldyssian started forward, at the same time drawing his knife.
The brush thickened and at times the wild grass rose as high as his waist. How Lylia had seen anything was beyond him, but he trusted that this was no wild-goose chase.
Then, as he neared the area in question, Uldyssian’s hackles rose. A sense of dread rushed over him, nearly causing the stalwart farmer to backtrack.
A faint but sickly scent wafted under his nose. It brought back memories of the plague, of his family…
Uldyssian did not want to take another step closer and yet, he did.
The sight before him made the farmer fall to one knee. It was all he could do to keep his last meal in his stomach. His knife slipped from his hand, utterly forgotten in the face of the horrific revelation before him.
What had once been a man—at least, from the height, Uldyssian decided it must be so—lay strewn across the patch of ground at the base of the first trees. His entire torso had been expertly sliced open, much the way the farmer would have done to a cow after slaughter. Blood soaked everything in the immediate vicinity and had turned the dirt in some places to crimson mud. Part of the victim’s own stomach had poured out of the cut and flies already clustered over the tremendous, stench-ridden bounty.
As if cutting open the body had not been terrible enough, the throat had been slit open sideways, the gap large enough to admit a fist. The face was covered with blood from the wounds, and leaves and other refuse decorated it like some bizarre festival display. After a long study, Uldyssian finally determined that he did not know the man, who was roughly his age and with black hair now caked with gore.
It was what remained of the shredded garments that finally identified the unfortunate figure for the son of Diomedes. The robes’s coloring alone was sufficient in itself, but the symbol of the missionary’s order left no doubt whatsoever.
Uldyssian had found Brother Caligio, the missing acolyte from the Triune.
A gasp from behind startled him. He spun about to see Lylia, eyes wide, taking in the awful sight.
She suddenly went pale. Her eyes fluttered upward, showing only whites…and then she began to fall.
Pushing himself to his feet, Uldyssian managed to catch her just before she could strike the ground. He h
eld her prone body for a moment, at a loss what to do. Someone had to be told about the murder, likely Captain Tiberius, chief of the Seram Guard. Dorius, the village’s leader, would also need to know.
In his arms, the noblewoman moaned. Uldyssian decided that, first, he had to take care of Lylia.
Fortunately, it took little effort for the towering farmer to carry her. Uldyssian moved at as swift a pace as he could without risking his precious burden. He had to watch his footing at all times, fearful that one false step would send both of them crashing.
It was with great relief that Uldyssian reached the edge of the village. The sky continued to thunder loudly, but the storm so far held back.
“Uldyssian!”
He stumbled at the sound of his name, nearly tossing Lylia away in the process. The farmer managed to steady himself, then looked to the source of the call.
A great fear lifted off his chest as Mendeln and Achilios came rushing up to him. They had clearly just arrived themselves. Mendeln was slightly out of breath and Achilios had a pale expression that the elder son of Diomedes suspected mirrored his own…even though Achilios could not yet know about the grisly discovery.
As the pair came up to him, he immediately growled, “There’s a body out in the woods behind me! Near where the forest first thickens!”
Eyeing the farmer’s burden, the hunter muttered, “An accident?”
“No…”
Achilios grimly nodded. He pulled a bolt from his quiver, notched the bow, and without hesitation went off in the direction Uldyssian had indicated.
“What of her?” Mendeln asked. “Who is she? Is she harmed in any way?”
“She fainted.” Uldyssian felt unusually anxious. He kept hoping that Lylia would awaken, but she remained a limp bundle in his arms. “She saw the body, too.”
“Should we take her to Jorilia?” Jorilia was Seram’s healer woman, an elderly figure some believed half-witch, but who was respected by all for her skills. It was she who had given the brothers the herbal mixtures that had at least eased some of their stricken family’s agony. To both Uldyssian and Mendeln, she had done far more than all the prayers combined.
Uldyssian shook his head. “She just needs to rest. She must have a room at the Boar’s Head.” He hesitated. “But we can’t bring her through the front door like this…”
“There is a back way near the steps leading to the upper rooms,” Mendeln said with far more calm than the situation would have warranted for most other people. “You could take her through there while I go and speak quietly with Tibion in order to find which one is hers.”
His brother’s suggestion made perfect sense. Uldyssian exhaled gratefully. “We’ll do that.”
Mendeln studied him for a moment, perhaps reading deeper into his brother than Uldyssian preferred. As far as the younger son of Diomedes was concerned, Lylia was a perfect stranger, yet clearly she was not so with Uldyssian.
Rather than explain all now, Uldyssian hurried on. A moment later, Mendeln caught up. They spoke no more, intent on their efforts.
Owing to the inclement shift in the weather, they were not hindered by any startled passersby. That both pleased and frustrated Uldyssian, who wanted Lylia safely in her room but also wanted to let someone of authority know about the acolyte’s heinous slaughter. He finally satisfied himself with the knowledge that Achilios would certainly contact the Guard or the headman.
Mendeln left him as the pair neared the Boar’s Head. Slipping around the back, Uldyssian found the other doorway. With some manipulation, he managed to get the noblewoman inside without losing his grip on her once.
Inside, he wasted no time heading up the wooden staircase. Fortunately, most eyes in the tavern section had turned to his brother, who had apparently timed his entrance to coincide with Uldyssian’s. As Uldyssian raced up, he heard Mendeln greet a couple of those seated with a slightly louder than average voice.
At the top, he waited. After what seemed an eternity, his younger brother finally joined him.
“She had no quarters,” Mendeln explained. “So I had to arrange for some, with our credit. Was that all right?”
Uldyssian nodded. He looked at the five doors. “Which?”
“This one,” his sibling replied, pointing to a lone door farther from the rest. “More private.”
With a look of grim approval, Uldyssian had Mendeln open the way for him. This being Seram, the room was fairly austere. Other than a framed bed with down comforter and a table and chair near the single window, there was no furniture. There were hooks on the wall for cloaks and such and a space for a traveler’s bag or trunk.
Mendeln noted the last before Uldyssian could say anything. “She must have belongings with the caravan. Shall I go to Serenthia and take care of it?”
While he hated involving Cyrus’s daughter in this situation, Uldyssian could see no other choice. “Go ahead.”
Mendeln paused at the door. Meeting his brother’s gaze, he asked, “How do you know this woman?”
“We met by chance,” was all Uldyssian would return. After a moment, Mendeln finally nodded and left the room.
Gently placing the noblewoman on the bed, the farmer paused to look at her. Again, he was struck by the perfection of her face and wondered what could have sent her wandering alone in the world. Certainly, Lylia could have found a good marriage with many a wealthy noble. Was she related by blood, perhaps, to one of the losing mage clans? That might explain the matter…
As he pondered this, her eyes abruptly opened. Gasping, Lylia bolted into a sitting position.
“What…what happened?”
“Do you remember the woods?”
Her hand went to her mouth as she stifled another gasp. “It was all…all true, then? What I…saw?”
Uldyssian nodded.
“And you…you brought me here…where is here?”
“The Boar’s Head. It’s the only inn in Seram, miss—Lylia. We thought you likely had a room here.”
“But I do not—”
He shrugged. “My brother took care of that; then we brought you up here. After that, Mendeln went to retrieve your things from the caravan.”
She stared long and hard into his eyes. “Mendeln and your brother…they are the same person, I gather?”
“Yes.”
The noblewoman nodded to herself, then asked, “And the…the body?”
“A friend is looking into it. He can be trusted to deal with the matter properly. Achilios will alert the Guard, then our headman.”
Lylia drew her knees up to her chin, then hugged her legs. That she badly wrinkled her elegant gown, she did not seem to care. “Was the…was the man we found also a friend of yours?”
“Him?” Uldyssian shook his head. “A damned missionary…from the Temple of the Triune. His companions were looking for him earlier.” He considered. “They came with the caravan. Did you—”
“I saw them, yes, but never spoke. I have little trust in their teachings…or that of the Cathedral, for that matter.”
This admission, so near to his own thoughts concerning the two sects, inexplicably lightened Uldyssian’s heart. Then the farmer quickly berated himself. However much his calling repelled Uldyssian, the man had not deserved such a monstrous end.
Thinking of that, Uldyssian knew that he had to go and see to the situation. As the one to initially come across the dead missionary, it behooved him to tell the village officials what he knew.
His brow arched as he considered the noblewoman. He would avoid speaking of Lylia as much as possible. She had already been through too much.
“I want you to stay here,” he commanded, inwardly stunned that he should talk to a lady of high caste so. “Stay here and rest. I have to see those who’ll deal with the body. You needn’t come.”
“But I should be there…should I not?”
“Only if necessary. You merely saw what I saw, after all. And you didn’t know him, either.”
She said nothing more
, but Uldyssian had the clear impression that Lylia knew that he risked his reputation by protecting her so. The noblewoman leaned back on the bed. “Very well. If that is what you wish. I will wait until I hear from you.”
“Good.” He started for the door, already formulating his explanation.
“Uldyssian?”
He looked at her.
“Thank you.”
Face flushing, the farmer exited. Despite his size, he moved silently down the steps. At the bottom, he glanced into the tavern. Everyone he saw acted as if nothing was wrong, which meant that news of the corpse had not yet filtered inside. Achilios could be thanked for that discretion. Seram would be in shock soon enough, the last murder having taken place more than four years ago and that due to a drunken altercation between old Aronius and his stepson, Gemmel, over farming rights, with the latter coming out the loser. Once sober, Aronius had pleaded his guilt and had been driven off by wagon to the great city to dutifully pay for his deeds.
But the butchery Uldyssian had witnessed had not been due to strong drink. This looked more the work of some madman or beast. Surely an outsider, some brigand passing through the region.
Growing more certain of this with each breath, Uldyssian vowed to bring it up the moment that he spoke with the headman and the Guard commander. The men of Seram would be more than willing to volunteer to search the area for the bastard. This time, the crime would be handled locally; a good strong rope would end the matter as it should. It was all such a fiend deserved.
He opened the back door and slipped out—
“There! That is the man of whom I speak!”
Uldyssian retreated into the doorway, startled. Before him stood Tiberius—a beefy man against whom the farmer had wrestled during festival events and lost to more than he had won—and gray-haired, vulpine Dorius, who was staring at Uldyssian as if never having seen him before. Behind them stood more than a dozen other men, most of them from the Guard, but also Achilios…and the two other acolytes of the Temple. The older male was, in fact, the one who had spoken and now stood pointing accusingly at the perplexed farmer.
Diablo: The Sin War Box Set: Birthright, Scales of the Serpent, and The Veiled Prophet Page 3
