Deathspell

by Peter Dawes

  Or, it could end like this.

  I aimed for where his breastplate ended and his arm began, striking beneath it and using every measure of my strength to drive the blade into his body. Even when the wound forced him to pause, I gave the sword an extra shove, watching his eyes widen and him bend at the waist, the motions indicative of something other than agony. I didn’t know what to expect, and paced backward from him, waiting for what might happen next; aware my efforts might have been in vain.

  Marcus peered at me, a look of unadulterated hate in his eyes. If I missed, I told myself, at least I managed to finally have the upper hand in some manner. With the amount of vitriol being cast at me, he would lose his temper enough to kill me and maybe – just maybe – it would delay him from seeking after Paolo and my brother long enough for them to get to safety. Ash began flaking from his face, however, starting as smaller flakes and turning into larger patches which rapidly eroded his form. His fingers fell away and his whole form collapsed to the point of caving in on itself.

  Within seconds, Marcus had been reduced to dust, his personal effect dropping to the ground devoid of an inhabitant.

  The sight transfixed me for an interminable amount of time. I stared at the mound and heard my heart pounding in my ears; felt my stomach tie into knots while baffled over what I beheld. The sword I had driven through him lay among the other debris and as I picked it up, I studied the blade, expecting to see something other than blood and residue. For the lack of a better response, I strode over to where my satchel had fallen when I was knocked from horseback. Tempest let out a pitiful whine and I frowned at the bleeding wound as I assessed it.

  Crouching beside the mare, I petted her mane and sighed. If the past few days had been nonsensical, the evening had turned downright surreal. A startling numbness settled over me despite my concern for the beast, my eyes flicking to the pile that had once been a man, attempting to sort through the thoughts spiraling through my head. It would take me weeks – perhaps longer – to allow the full impact of the evening to hit. Sadly, I didn’t have that sort of time and now, I had an injured animal. Glancing around the immediate area, I still found the presence of not one bystander suspicious. Light filtered out from one of the inns, reminiscent of a hearth, and I took a deep breath, thinking it as good of a place as any to look for help.

  Tempest grunted when I stood, then laid her head down flat on the dirt once more. “I’ll be back for you, girl,” I said, not ready to consider yet that putting her out of her misery might be the next task I’d have to complete. Instead, I produced a cloth from my satchel and wiped the sword’s blade clean. Slipping the weapon back into its sheath, I strode for the inn and walked inside, working half-heartedly on concocting a story just in case anyone had actually witnessed the confrontation. Surely there had to have been someone. Something still felt off about the air around me, the contest I had just participated in not feeling as complete as it should have.

  My chest filled with air as I stepped inside, the breath held as I realized even upon approach that the building sounded far too quiet. The further into the main hall I walked, however, the more this seemed to be an understatement. Flames crackled in the fireplace. Light danced in the lamps positioned elsewhere in the room. The bar looked recently vacated, with plates of half-eaten food on the counter, drinks not yet finished beside those or sitting idle without any evidence of supper. I raised an eyebrow and turned to study the door, the notion that I should leave becoming louder the longer I lingered inside. Taking one step back toward the front, I felt a chill settle in the air.

  The door slammed shut and held firm into place. The rush of wind which had closed it bore the earmarks of witchcraft, filling in a completed circle within my thoughts. My pulse sped as a form of dread settled bone deep inside of me. I harnessed the realm of fire; Jane called water her familiar. Marcus seemed to have mastered earth. This left one remaining element. This left one remaining man.

  Spinning around in the effort to find another way out, I paled when I saw him standing on the other side of the room, blocking the only other exit from the building.

  He regarded me with severity, a slow smirk crossing his lips menacing enough to force a shiver down my back. Talbot lifted a finger to wag it, tilting his head when our eyes met. “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he said, his voice taking on a mocking tone. “Where do you think you’re going?” Stalking forward, he took a seat, kicking out one of the other chairs with his foot. A red cloak hung from his shoulders, but no breastplate protected his chest. No weapon had been fastened at his side for him to adjust as he made himself comfortable. As his gaze met mine once more, his next words made my blood ran cold.

  “Make yourself comfortable, Christian,” he said. “We’re going to have a little chat.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  To say Talbot appeared nonplussed understated the matter greatly; never before had I seen a man hold himself with such an apathetic air. The way he settled into place indicated he had all the time in the world and yet, when I failed to sit, even the first flickers of hostility from his gaze bore a controlled form of irritation. “Come now and sit,” he repeated, his voice even. “I won’t ask you again.”

  I weighed the consequences of disobeying and determined that despite every warning sense within me crying for attention, leaving would be impossible at that moment. Entering the building had already damned me to a discussion and as I lifted the satchel over my head, I wondered how much else I had condemned myself toward. The way I sat across him communicated neither surrender, nor a challenge. He had the upper hand and the game was his to play.

  Talbot nodded in recognition and offered a much gentler, more cordial smile to me. “Much better, thank you,” he said. Both hands settled on his lap while he crossed one leg over the other. Aside from the crimson cloak, the remainder of his dress indicated someone of noble station, an amulet hanging from around his neck I couldn’t be entirely certain wasn’t enchanted. The idle thought that he might be just as little a man as his lieutenant crossed my mind. “Doesn’t this all run much more smoothly when we cooperate?”

  “I doubt I have much choice but to cooperate,” I said, the tone of my voice maudlin. Lowering the satchel onto the ground, I assumed a similar posture as Talbot. “What formalities do you feel like discussing?”

  He laughed. “These are hardly formalities. I presented a challenge to you and you met it. I thought perhaps we could parlay instead of resorting to the same brutal stand-off you just engaged in with Marcus.”

  “I’d think you more put off than of the mind to parlay.”

  “Over Marcus?” Talbot scoffed. “If he was apt to mock the sentimental, you’ll find me much more willing to dismiss it. Besides, as you correctly noted, he was too given over to his jealousy. It caused him to underestimate you. A mistake I promise not to replicate.”

  Nodding, I settled into my chair. My eyes met his, though my mind remained vigilant, looking out for any sign the other man intended to warp my thoughts against me. “Both of you speak in riddles. I only determined he was jealous because of your discussions with him and Lady Cavendish. I admit I don’t even know who this Henri is you keep referencing except that you claim he was my father.”

  “Because he was,” Talbot responded, his tone of voice matter-of-fact and the expression on his face laden with amusement. “Richard Hardi was a fabrication, made up by a man in search of a new life. If there’s one thing you mortals fool yourself into thinking, it’s that you can outrun your past.”

  “You say the term ‘mortal’ as though you don’t believe yourself one of them,” I observed.

  “Look into my eyes and tell me that I’m anything like you.” He raised an eyebrow at me, sobering once more. “You saw what became of Marcus. Do you think he was an ordinary man?”

  I fought against the urge to shudder, remembering the pile of ash. “Both of you look very human.”

  “A latent condition of what we once were. I stopped being human three centuries ago
. Marcus, much more recently. He took the position I’d groomed your father for and to say he was a disappointing substitute fails to grasp how furious I was to lose Henri. Your father was one of my most loyal, most gifted sorcerers.”

  The anger I had summoned to defeat Marcus seemed nowhere to be found. A frown tugged at the corners of my mouth, my shoulders heavy and my chest tight. “I fail to see the man I called father in the picture you paint.”

  “You’re wounded. It’s reasonable for you to be. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to discover a man I idolized once believed in the same cause I saw kill him. A person could lie to you and shelter your feelings, but honestly, it would benefit neither of us for me to do so. You need to see the truth.”

  “To what end?” I asked, wondering how much of my heart I truly wore on my sleeve.

  Talbot slid his hands to grip onto his knee, a small smile returning to his lips. “You hate me,” he said. “And yet, you don’t know why. Certainly, my followers killed your father and I see the boy within who wants to claw at my face, as though that would restore Henri to life. It’s time to grow up, though, Christian. You have no reason to loathe me. What happened to your father is as simple as what would happen to anyone who crossed your group of mercenaries.”

  “And how had he crossed you?”

  “Oh, those artifacts he took from me were things I had spent many years searching for. You’ll forgive me if I was upset to discover them gone when he ran away from us.”

  “He stole from you.”

  “I promise nobody has been fabricating that, least of all me. You seem to have recovered the memory of our brief discussion. And somehow, you know about Lady Cavendish and her discussions with us.” His smile broadened wide enough to reveal teeth which matched the daggers Marcus boasted. “Look at you. All grown up and come into your own as a sorcerer. It’s strong in your family and you have a chance to cultivate it.”

  “You’ll forgive me if I decline the offer after being sequestered by one of your harlots.”

  Talbot barked out a laugh, lifting a hand to slap his knee. “Oh, if Jane could hear you, her ears would be red right now. These men and women of noble birth get very indignant about their station. I should know. Your father was full of himself when he first met us.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

  “Oh, I apologize. I keep referring to him only as Henri, when the full title was Henri d’Avignon. He was the second son of a Count, in a family which had once held strong ties to witchcraft until they curried favor with the Roman Church. His father especially denied his birthright, but Henri stumbled upon his talents unwittingly at an early age.” Talbot sighed. “Short sighted mortals, really. They disowned him and granted him only the mercy of being spared an execution.”

  My tone of voice turned incredulous. “My father was nobility?”

  “Born into it, but not with any right toward inheritance when I rescued him. It might have made him more apt to be grateful, but I’d like to think what I offered meant more to him than food and comfort.”

  “And what was that?”

  Talbot lifted a hand, turning his wrist and causing the table in front of us to shift its position. I jumped and he chuckled at my reaction. “Be honest. Christian,” he said. “It’s the same thing that led you to follow Lady Cavendish down to Plymouth. He wanted to learn his true nature and I provided him the chance.”

  “I followed her to find your ilk,” I retorted. My gaze flicked from him to his hand and back again.

  “The lies you tell yourself. You escaped and rode right into a trap, but if you had escaped, what would you have done with yourself? Found work killing people elsewhere? Perhaps settle into an honest living like your father tried to?” Talbot leaned forward in his seat, repositioning his hands to the top of the table. “Let me tell you what his life was like, since your eyes were too young and ignorant to see it. He trapped himself within a personal hell, always wanting to touch the power he held and always less of himself when it didn’t fit into his new life. That is the fate that would await you – one of denial and disappointment.”

  “I might take my chances with it just the same.”

  “You and I both know you aren’t walking out of here alive.”

  My heart fluttered as the unspoken threat finally made it past his lips. He raised an eyebrow at me and I countered with one of my own. “I thought you considered killing me a waste,” I said, attempting to sound more confident than I suddenly felt.

  “It would be. But what’s keeping you alive right now is at the very heart of our discussion. You have something I want and you are going to hand it over to me,” he said.

  “How am I to get it if you’re not allowing me to walk out of here alive?”

  “Because, there are more states of existence than simply alive or dead. What I have for you is a proposition I once extended to Henri, and want to extend to you now.”

  Talbot encroached further still upon me, and though I felt his gaze drawing me in, I sensed no trickery in his eyes. They both plead with me and commanded me and for a moment, I felt my breaths turn shallow, my eyes get lost in his. “You chose the path of a solitary man,” he began. “The rogue who kills for coin, and however you dressed it up to your conscience, you’ve enjoyed what you’ve done. What attachment do you have, then, to the mortal world?”

  I swallowed past a lump forming in my throat. “My brother. My family. My friends,” I said, having enough presence of mind not to list Paolo by name.

  “A few personal attachments. Precious little more,” he countered, “And all of them so fragile. I could walk out of here after wiping your blood from my hands and break them like twigs.” Talbot snapped his fingers as though to prove a point. “That is your first choice. Die like your father had and know I will not relent in my quest to burn everything you love in search of what I want. I do hope I have your attention.”

  I nodded once, allowing this to suffice as my answer. While Talbot’s expression remained serious, he relaxed by a small margin, his demeanor turning pleasant again. “Or,” he continued, “You could claim the second choice.” Uncrossing his legs, Talbot rose to a stand. Nothing in his posture suggested I should do likewise, so I remained seated in my chair while he strode around where I sat. I sensed him behind me, hearing him crouch and feeling his breath on my neck as he whispered. “Leave this human world behind and cross through the veil to where I am.”

  My eyes shut, my posture tensing. “Is this the other state of existence to which you were referring?” I asked.

  “Another form of eternal life. A much surer proposition than any priest could offer.”

  “I have never held much stock in the church, sir.”

  “And neither should you. Ours is the realm of signs and wonders, Christian. You have already made the elements dance, but you have yet to know true dominion over them. These foolish families war over a throne because it’s the only power they will ever know, but I control something far more potent. And one by one, I will make them bend the knee to me. This is inevitable. If you are at my right hand, then the people you cherish will be protected. I could strip Henri’s brother of his title and place it at your feet, but that would be a pittance compared to what you will have. Dominion over death. And control over the lives of your few human attachments.”

  My eyes opened slowly, an eyebrow rising in response to the wording of Talbot’s proposition. While I heard the part of his offer meant to grip my attention, I couldn’t help but to focus on the piece of the puzzle falling into place. I might have never figured out what my father’s scroll meant. I might have not considered the medallion I wore around my neck held much other importance other than sentimental attachment. But as I followed the trail of the Luminaries from one noble family to the next, I could only ever harbor the paranoia of something sinister afoot.

  Talbot had done more than present a threat veiled in a promise. He had offered me the first glimpse into what I feared when I confessed
my suspicions to Jeffrey. I tensed in my chair as I considered the power-hungry and the distracted, members of both warring families of England accepting Talbot’s hand and playing right into a trap. Whatever had turned Richard – Henri; whoever my father had been – against the man standing behind me, I had to wonder if I sat in the same position he had.

  “Are you certain this offer isn’t simply your own judgment being muddled?” I asked, tilting my head to bare more skin to him, observing his fascination with my neck once more. Sinking against the back of my chair, I attempted to make my posture more inviting, inhaling deeply and exhaling in staccato. “You had a weakness for him, didn’t you?”

  Talbot chuckled. Another gust of breath caressed my throat, his presence looming ever closer. “I heard you mention me stealing a taste of you to Marcus.” A hand settled on my other shoulder. “I’ll admit his jealousy wasn’t entirely unfounded. And my, you are quite the temptation.”

  “You wish to steal another taste?” I remained still as a statue, my gaze stealing to the hearth across the room. I refused to look away from it.

  “Oh, I have yet to take one. I promise you will know when that happens and will find yourself begging for more.” His tongue dragged across the back of my neck, causing the wound which had been inflicted there to tingle. I struggled to maintain my focus through it. Flames crackled over wooden logs in the hearth. The walls of the inn had been fashioned in wood, as had the floors, with stone supporting the structure. Fire, I told myself. They had been afraid of fire.

  I had to be mad to consider what I was about to do.

  ‘Paolo, forgive me. Tell my brother I apologize. I should have listened to him. Always know I love you.’