by James Wisher
Damien shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Marie-Bell, do you sense anything we should check out first?”
“It’s everywhere.” The paladin trembled in place. “So much darkness, pressing down on me. Can’t breathe, can’t think.”
“Okay, I think you’ve done enough searching.” Damien went over and forced her to meet his gaze. “Pull your senses back. Focus on me. Just me. There’s nothing else but my eyes. Come on, focus.”
Her breathing gradually steadied and the trembling stopped. “Thank you. It was all too much.”
“It’s okay. Keep your sorcerous senses drawn in tight. The town isn’t that big. We can search the old fashioned way.”
“Old fashioned way?”
He nodded. “We’ll look around.”
When the dimples reappeared he knew she’d be okay. The three of them crossed the plaza and approached a weathered two-story building with balconies overlooking the town square. The sign outside called it The Dancing Kitty.
They pushed through the swinging doors. Inside bodies littered the main room. Some sprawled on the floor, others slumped in their chairs, mugs of ale spilled in their laps. On the stage to their right four women dressed in ruffly green dresses lay in a heap.
“Heaven’s mercy.” Marie-Bell clapped a hand over her mouth.
Damien sent out streams of soul force, but found no poison in the air or any disease festering in the bodies. Whatever killed them was gone now.
They walked through the charnel house, stepping over bodies as they went. One blond woman lay face down near the bar. Teeth gritted, Damien poked her over with his toe. The unfortunate woman had twisted teeth and a pock-marked face. He sighed. Not Imogen, thank heaven.
Damien crouched down and sent probes of soul force into the body. He was no healer, but maybe if he took a closer look he’d find what killed these people. All the major organs remained intact. He found no wounds, beyond what you’d expect on a body that collapsed to a hard wooden floor. It was like someone had cut the strings on a puppet.
He refined his probe, making the streams as fine as his dense soul force would allow. A minute later he found it, a subtle and pervasive remnant of corrupt soul force. Now that he knew what to look for Damien found the dark energy throughout the body.
“Have you ever seen anything like this?”
I’ve seen something similar. It’s like a crude attempt to create zombies.
“Zombies!”
Jen and Marie-Bell looked his way. “Did you say something, little brother?”
Something struck him with unnatural force, sending Damien sprawling and a table flying. The dead woman shambled upright. All around the room the dead rose to their feet.
Damien shook his head. The blow hadn’t hurt him, just took him by surprise. Jen had her sword out and sliced the head off a broad-chested former miner. The body kept stumbling toward her, unperturbed by its loss.
Marie-Bell struck it with her hammer. White light burst forth and the body fell back to the floor.
Jen hacked and slashed, sending body parts flying. A legless zombie continued to drag itself toward her and a severed hand crawled after it like a spider.
Marie-Bell’s hammer proved more effective. Each blow of the holy weapon sent a zombie to the ground, unmoving. The divine energy in the hammer’s head burned out the corruption in each body she struck. His sister was stuck carving them into pieces small enough that they no longer posed a threat.
Damien blew a hole through the nearest wall. “Everybody out!”
Jen and Marie-Bell accelerated to warlord speed and vanished through the opening. Damien disintegrated a pair of zombies and followed.
Outside dozens of undead poured from every building in the town. Damien conjured a platform, Jen leapt on, and the three of them flew to a safe height.
“How are we going to search now?” Marie-Bell asked.
“We’re not.” Damien looked down at the horde of shambling monsters. “There’s no way Imogen and the others are still in the town and alive. If they were I suspect the zombies would have already been up and walking around.”
“So what now?” Jen asked. “We can’t leave the town like this. Some poor miner wanders in to get drunk and he’ll end up getting eaten.”
Damien drew Lizzy. “You’re right. We can’t leave the town like this. The whole place is tainted with corruption. I need to purify everything.”
He guided the platform higher then walked to the edge, gathering power as he went. Lizzy joined her power to his and in seconds a gold and gray sphere appeared at the tip of the sword. When he’d put half his power and three quarters of Lizzy’s into the blast Damien released it.
The ball struck the fountain in the town square and detonated. The town vanished in an instant. Zombies and buildings atomized and blew away. When the dust cleared nothing remained but a crater.
Jen and Marie-Bell stared at him, their mouths hanging open. Damien knew just how they felt. He hadn’t even used his full power for that blast. Just what were the two of them capable of now?
“Do you sense any corruption remaining?” Damien asked. He didn’t, but he wanted to have Marie-Bell check.
She blinked a couple times and closed her mouth. Her eyes turned white and she flew down low enough for a good look. When she’d traveled from one end of the town to the other she rejoined them.
“There’s nothing left down there, corrupt or otherwise.”
Chapter 33
Damien sent a note to his master, informing her that they couldn’t find Imogen and the others. With that done, the three of them left the crater and turned southwest. They stayed silent, each thinking their own thoughts. He needed to put the zombie attack behind them and focus on their mission. The mayor reported to a wealthy merchant in Port Valcane who went by the name Paymaster. The business in the mountains had only taken an hour and Damien wanted to capture him before word got out about the roundup of cult members.
The warehouse in Port Valcane hadn’t been mentioned in the ledger Jen decoded so the Paymaster must be part of another cell or, if they got really lucky, maybe one of the real leaders of the cult. If he was a leader and he had information about all the kingdom cells they could eliminate the cult, root and branch. It was also the only way they’d probably ever find Smyth and avenge their father.
Marie-Bell had transferred over to the platform to ride with Jen and Damien since she said she’d never flown for as long as it would take to reach the city and she didn’t want to run out of power halfway there. Given the strength of her divine soul force he doubted it would be an issue, but if she preferred to ride on his transport he didn’t mind.
“I’ve never been to Port Valcane,” Marie-Bell said, trying to make her voice light. “What’s it like?”
“Sprawling, smelly, crowded and noisy,” Jen said. “The only thing that stinks worse than the docks is the politics.”
Marie-Bell winced. “That bad, huh?”
“Worse actually. My words hardly do it justice. I can’t imagine a better place for the cult leaders to set up shop. There’s so much slime they blend right in.”
Marie-Bell looked at Damien. “Is there anything nice about it?”
“The ocean is very pretty at dawn and dusk.”
“Is that all?”
“I was only there for a couple days, but that’s all I saw. Sorry. And I doubt we’ll find anything better this visit.”
Marie-Bell hung her head. “In the three months I’ve been traveling the kingdom it seems I’ve found a lot more bad things than good. I thought I could make a big difference in people’s lives, but there’s so much going on, so many problems. Even if I spent forever wandering around, doing what I can, it wouldn’t amount to anything.”
“You can’t think that way.” Damien glanced at her then back to where he was flying. “You can’t focus on everything that’s wrong. You have to look at the individuals you help. Even if it’s one here and one there, you’ve still made their lives
better. There will always be challenges, but the important thing is to keep moving forward, and don’t give up.”
He looked toward his sister and found Jen smiling at him. “What?”
She shook her head. “I never imagined you as a deep thinker. St. Clouds tend toward action.”
Damien laughed at that. “I’m no deep thinker, but after some of the stuff I’ve seen this past year I’ve had my moments of depression. Looking after one person at a time is what I thought up to fight it. Not exactly earth-shattering stuff, but it helps me on the bad days.” Like when I have to annihilate a whole town.
Something pressed on his shoulder and out of the corner of his eye Damien saw blond hair. “Thank you,” Marie-Bell whispered in his ear.
Chapter 34
They arrived above Port Valcane late in the evening. Damien had wrapped the transport in an invisibility screen so any non-sorcerers keeping watch wouldn’t see them. According to the mayor the Paymaster’s warehouse sat in an industrial area ten blocks from the docks beside a wagon maker’s shop. He’d only visited his superior twice and that was many years ago when he first joined the cult so he had no idea what sort of defenses the place might have now. If the warehouse was a working business Damien doubted there’d be much in the way of traps. After all, you wouldn’t want your employees accidentally killing themselves.
Marie-Bell gasped and Damien stopped the platform and spun to see what the problem was. She was staring out across the ocean, watching the setting sun color it pink and purple. “It is pretty.”
“Told you.”
“We should probably concentrate on the matter at hand,” Jen said.
“Right.” Damien turned away from the view and started the platform moving again. “Do you think we should check in with the guard captain?”
Jen grimaced. “We should, but I’d rather not. There’s no way to know if anyone in the guard is a member of the cult or if they just talk too much. I say we catch as many as we can and present them tied up in a neat bow. If Tosh wants to complain let him do it when we’re finished.”
Damien shrugged. Jen knew the city better than he did. If she thought handling things on their own was the best way he’d follow her lead. If things became too complicated he still had Uncle Andy’s ring.
Five minutes of hunting turned up the warehouse. Both the target and the wagon maker next door looked closed for the day. That could be good if the civilians were out of the danger zone, but if the Paymaster had gone home for the night they’d end up camping out in the warehouse, not a proposition that thrilled Damien.
“How do you want to handle this?” Damien asked. “I can send in a scout bug, see if anyone’s home.”
“Scout bug?” Marie-Bell asked.
“You’ll see. Jen?”
Jen nodded. “Do it.”
Damien conjured a wasp and connected it to a viewing rectangle. The little construct buzzed down toward the warehouse, everything it saw appearing perfectly on the rectangle.
Marie-Bell leaned over his shoulder. “That’s amazing.”
She really was young in a lot of ways. Damien guided the bug through an open window high up under the eaves. The interior of the building was one big, open space filled with boxes, bales of cloth, and bins of clothes. No movement showed through the bug’s eyes.
“There should be an office,” Jen said.
Damien guided his spy lower, weaving through the stacks. It flew over an empty wagon and on the other side found a door. The bug crawled under it and sure enough an empty office waited on the other side. There was a table covered with papers, an ink pot and quill, four chairs, and three bookshelves filled with ledgers and binders.
He severed the connection. “Nobody’s home. Shall we go have a closer look?”
They flew down and landed on the back side of the warehouse opposite the street. It was getting darker by the moment, but he didn’t want to risk a light until he had to.
“There’s a small door over here.” Jen’s eyes gleamed with the light of soul force.
He followed Jen to the door, conjured a screen so no one would see the tiny light he used to find the keyhole. The light flew into the lock and a moment later it clicked open. The three of them slipped inside, then closed and relocked the door.
The interior of the warehouse looked exactly the same as it had through the bug’s eyes. The main difference being the acrid smell of cleaning solutions. They made their way by the light of a tiny glowing globe to the office door which Damien opened with the same ease as the first.
“You two would make fine thieves,” Marie-Bell said.
Damien grinned and waved her through the open door. She had a point. Any sorcerer that wanted to take up a life of crime would have no trouble with the ordinary precautions available to the average citizen. However, if the thieving sorcerer got found out, every other sorcerer in the kingdom would hunt him or her down and see them punished. Sorcerers in the kingdom had a responsibility to use their powers for the good of the people. Anything less would lead to mistrust and anger. People would come to hate and fear sorcerers and they’d end up shunned like the sorcerers of Salem’s homeland. He’d do everything in his power to prevent that from happening.
“Think it’d be worthwhile looking through these ledgers?” Jen asked.
Damien shrugged. “We have hours to kill before morning. Couldn’t hurt to page through them.”
The office had no outside windows so Damien blacked out the small window in the door and conjured a glow globe bright enough to read by. Next he conjured a couch for Jen who promptly collected an armful of ledgers and slumped down on it.
He glanced at Marie-Bell, but she seemed content to sit in one of the office chairs. Damien lifted his sister’s feet up, sat down, and put them back in his lap. Just like at home when they’d had classwork. He grabbed a ledger from her pile and set to reading.
Chapter 35
The crash of the warehouse door opening combined with the sickening arrival of corruption woke Damien from a light doze. Jen sat bolt upright beside him. Across the room Marie-Bell stared back at them, one eyebrow raised.
Damien put a finger to his lips then crooked a finger, beckoning her over to join them. She slid silently between Jen and Damien. He conjured another rectangle and bug and sent it out into the warehouse. Six people pushed the empty wagon aside while an identical number watched. Two of the watchers carried lit lanterns that created dancing shadows throughout the warehouse.
They all wore black masks and hooded gray cloaks. One of the watchers stood a little apart from the rest. He or she—the voluminous black robes they all wore made it impossible to tell even the gender of those present—gave off the aura of corruption. Not especially powerful, like a demon or warlock, but enough to mark whoever it was as the leader. Most likely some sort of dark artifact or weapon served as the source of the corruption. Whatever it was, its power level didn't concern Damien, especially since he had Jen and Marie-Bell to back him up.
“What are they doing?” Jen muttered.
Damien ignored her question and focused on the workers who had finished pushing the wagon out and were now shutting the main doors. When they had them closed and locked the leader placed a gloved hand on the bare stone floor. Hellfire leaked out and traced a rectangle in the stone. A moment later the stone shifted and sank into the ground forming steps.
Impressive. The cultists had hidden the entrance to their base so only someone with the use of demon magic could open it. That both prevented those they didn’t want finding it from doing so and reinforced the leaders’ power as they were the only ones able to open the way.
When the stairs finished forming one of the lantern bearers went down first, followed by the leader, then everyone else. When the last head bobbed down the steps Jen said, “Send the bug after them.”
“No can do. If they have a ward set at the entrance my construct might set it off and alert them. I need to see for myself and if there is one disable it before we he
ad down. Give them another minute to move out of earshot then we’ll follow.”
Jen nodded, her mouth set in a grim line. At some point she’d drawn her sword without him noticing. Maybe she thought Smyth was amongst the group. He couldn’t deny the possibility. If he was down there Damien would hate to be him when Jen got her hands on him.
The minute felt more like an hour, but finally the last of the lantern’s light vanished from the warehouse. Damien nodded and the three of them slipped silently out of the office and over to the entrance to the basement.
Damien crouched down three feet from the threshold and looked for any markings or concentrations of energy. He found nothing beyond a faint, lingering hint of corruption from the opening. Just to be certain he sent a thin stream of soul force out to probe both sides of the stairs. It appeared unprotected. The cultists must have considered the fact that the entrance was hidden and sealed sufficient. Under other circumstances they’d have been right.
“It’s clear.”
The tunnel at the bottom of the steps was pitch black. Even with her enhanced vision Jen wouldn’t be able to see. Much as he hated to risk it Damien sent his conjured light down the steps first. Jen went next, followed by Damien and Marie-Bell.
As they walked the tunnel sloped slightly downward. The walls, floor and ceiling were smooth, quarried stone, fused into a single piece with soul force. Whoever built the tunnel had gone to a lot of trouble to make it secure.
The farther they went the more obvious it became that while Damien and Jen had training in quiet movement, Marie-Bell didn’t. Her armor jingled and her boots thunked hard with each step prompting a wince from Damien. If any of the cultists were listening they’d hear her from half a mile away in these echoing tunnels.
Damien paused, looked back, and whispered, “I don’t suppose you can move any quieter?”
“Sorry. Paladins are taught to charge in forthrightly, confident in the righteousness of our cause. The bad guys sneak around.”
