Jonathan pushed through the people until he stood in the doorway. Fredric had dropped to his knees, head bowed. Randwulf stood to one side of the bed. His young face raw with grief. Silvanus sat in the narrow bed, holding Averil's limp body. He rocked her as he would a child, but her arms flopped with every movement like those of a broken doll.
Silvanus was saying something, over and over, too soft for Jonathan to hear. Konrad stood at the window, staring out at the morning light. His hands were clasped so hard behind his back, the veins corded in his forearms.
The white-haired doctor stood in the middle of the room. For a man that had seen a great deal of death, he seemed at a loss.
Jonathan took a deep breath and stepped into the room. He went to Konrad. "What happened?"
Konrad shot him a quick, harsh glance out of the corners of his green eyes. "She lost too much blood. Then the wound became inflamed. The fever burned her alive. No herb or potion that I had helped her."
"What of her own potions that she brought with her?"
"She used the last on her father."
Jonathan glanced at the bed. Everyone seemed stunned, unable or unwilling to do anything. He stepped forward, past the stupefied doctor. He could hear what Silvanus was muttering now.
"I couldn't save her. I couldn't save her. I couldn't save her. I couldn't save her." It was a piteous litany. His voice squeezed tight with grief and guilt. Yes, Jonathan recognized the taste of guilt. It was too strong in his own mouth not to know it in others.
He placed a gentle hand on the elf's shoulder. Silvanus did not notice. He rocked his dead daughter in his arms as if her limp body were the center of the world. And for that one moment, perhaps it was.
Jonathan squeezed the elf's shoulder. "Silvanus?" He made the name a question.
The elf gave a sobbing cough and looked up at him. Those golden eyes swam with tears. The tears looked like mercury sliding down his cheeks, as silver as the elf's hair was gold. Elves cried silver tears. The sight of it startled Jonathan down to the soles of his feet, tingling. The sight was astonishing, the grief unbearable.
"Silvanus. " Words failed him. What could he say? I'm sorry wasn't enough. I grieve with you was a lie. He hadn't known Averil, not really. He'd have traded her life for Elaine's in a moment. "There are no words, but I am deeply sorry for your loss."
"I tried to raise her from the dead. All these years it came easily to me. But this time, when I would have given my whole soul for the power, it did not come. Why?"
Some questions had no answers, or at least none that we wanted to hear. "I don't know, Silvanus. I don't know."
He hugged her to his chest, his one good arm tight against her back. The missing arm was longer, and the stump helped hold her in place. The sight of the growing stump made Jonathan's stomach clench. Nausea burned at the back of his throat. He took a deep breath through his nose and swallowed. He would not let his own fears make this hideous scene worse.
"We have to tend the dead before dark," the doctor said. His voice sounded ordinary enough. Jonathan wondered why he himself felt so startled. He had seen many scenes of grief before.
Silvanus shook his head, rocking faster. Averil's hand slapped the bedframe with a meaty thunk.
Every few moments; thunk-thunk-thunk. That one sound seemed worse than all the others.
Randwulf rushed forward, grabbing both the elf and his dead daughter in his arms. Hugging them both. He held them close and the awful sound stopped.
Randwulf's head was bent over Silvanus's shoulder. There was a large bump at the top of the boy's spine. Jonathan couldn't remember it being there before, when he saw Elaine heal the old wound.
He shook his head. Now was not the time.
"We have sent for the undertaker," the doctor said.
Silvanus's head snapped up, rage sparkling through the tears. "No, not yet."
"We must have her out of doors by dark," the doctor said.
"Why?" Silvanus asked.
Jonathan made a movement to attract the doctor's attention. He gave a small shake of his head. The doctor frowned, not seeming to understand.
Jonathan walked over and put a hand on his shoulder, directing him toward the door. "I think we should give Silvanus a few moments alone with his grief."
"But we can't have a dead body inside…"
"I know that," Jonathan said softly, "but it is an hour past sunup. We have time."
The doctor shook his head, eyes wide with what Jonathan now recognized as fear. "The undertaker is on his way. We must…"
Jonathan practically shoved the doctor through the door, pushing the crowd aside. When they were in the hallway, he spoke, low and urgent, "They do not know that all dead in this cursed village rise to walk the night. And you will not be the one to tell them."
The doctor's mouth made a little O of surprise. "It is my duty to protect this town."
"And a fine job you're doing. Now get out."
The doctor sputtered, protesting. "I am the doctor here. You are to find the source of this evil, but I am to protect the living."
Thordin had come up. He stood at Jonathan's side, simply staring at the doctor. There was really nothing in the look that Jonathan found frightening. It was just Thordin, but the doctor paled.
"I think you had better leave," Thordin said in a low, careful voice.
The doctor's eyes widened, then without another word, he fled down the stairs.
"You must be a great deal more frightening than I think you are," Jonathan said.
Thordin shrugged. "The doctor scares easy."
"That he does," Jonathan said. "It might be interesting to find out why."
They stared at each other for a few heartbeats. It was enough, no words needed. Thordin went to follow the doctor or perhaps to question him, Jonathan didn't care which. Who better to corrupt the dead and dying than a doctor? The village had only one. Who would question him?
He heard Tereza calling his name faintly through the other door. He opened the door with a smile that was all lies. Averil's death was one more reminder of their own loss.
"The girl's dead, isn't she?" Tereza asked.
Jonathan nodded, leaving the door half open behind him. "I may be needed in the other room. Silvanus does not know …" He let the thought trail off.
"That all dead rise again as zombies," she finished.
He sat on the edge of the bed, taking her offered hand.
"We must try and find their bodies, Jonathan. We can use fire to destroy them so they won't rise."
Jonathan could not meet her eyes.
"Husband, look at me," she said.
He raised his head and met her dark gaze. "You were always braver than I."
"I am more practical. That isn't the same thing at all, Jonathan. The thought of … of watching them burn. A new zombie looks living. It would be like burning them alive."
"They won't be alive, Tereza."
"We must do it for the sakes of their souls, but…"
"You are too ill to move from this bed. I will do what is necessary."
She squeezed his hand. "Averil must be treated the same way."
"What I can't understand is why the villagers haven't been burning the bodies, themselves."
"They may not know that fire destroys the body completely," she said.
"The undertaker should have known. Any keeper of the dead in Kartakass has to be aware of how to keep the dead from rising."
"Perhaps it is the old dead that fill the streets."
Jonathan shook his head. "I will find out today. Before another night falls, I will have answers."
"So quickly?"
"We have lost a great deal in one night. I will not lose anyone else. We will find who is behind this."
"You have some ideas. I can see it in your face."
"Yes, I have some suspects."
"Who?"
He glanced back at the open door. "Later. Let me see how Silvanus fairs. I promise to come back and tell you all m
y theories. You know that I do my best thinking while explaining things to you."
She gave a small smile. "I know."
He kissed her cheek and left, closing the door behind him.
Konrad had shooed the idle gawkers away. He stood guard over the door, hands on chest, and wore a forbidding expression. Suddenly, his face changed, a look of astonishment crumbled it into lines of shock. He was staring at something over Jonathan's shoulder, something coming up the stairs.
Jonathan turned. Elaine was ascending. He felt his own mouth drop open with surprise. She looked as she always looked. Clothes covered in dirt and blood, but it was her.
She was a few steps from the top when Konrad broke and ran for her. He lifted her bodily up the last steps, whirling her around in the narrow hallway. He put her down, and they were both laughing. Konrad was laughing. It was the first joy Jonathan had seen in him since his wife died.
Konrad set her on the floor and hugged her again. "Elaine, Elaine, Elaine." He seemed unwilling to let her go.
Jonathan stood there with tears running down his face, mingling with his beard. Her blue eyes glanced at him. He held his arms wide, and she ran to him. He hugged her to his chest, burying his face in the top of her hair. Her arms held him as if she would never let him go.
"I am so sorry for all I said, Elaine."
"It doesn't matter." She pushed away from him, enough to look up into his face. There was something in her eyes, some knowledge that left Jonathan frightened. He was suddenly cold all over as if he'd been dropped in icy water.
"Where's Blaine?" His voice was choked and soft. He knew the answer. It was there in her eyes.
"Gone," she said. One word, not even the right word. Gone, not dead. Mustn't say that word aloud. Gone.
"Are you sure?" Konrad was with them, hand on Elaine's back. "Are you sure?"
She nodded, burying her face against Jonathan's chest. She did not cry, as dry inside as a seashell left on a high shelf to gather dust and dream of lost paradises.
He had believed them both dead, or said he did, but Jonathan realized now it was a lie. He hadn't really believed. It was true for one of them, and he couldn't think. One question came to his mind. "How?" he asked. Somehow that seemed important.
She took a deep shuddering breath and stepped away from him. She stood in the center of the hallway, hands close against her body, tight as if afraid to touch anything. "He was trying to save me. He died saving me." She raised her face and looked at them. The hatred in her eyes pierced him to his soul. Self-hatred was the hardest wound to heal.
"We were trying to climb onto a roof to get away from the dead. He fell." She held out her hands to the empty air. "I tried to save him. I offered him my hand, but he wouldn't take it. Why wouldn't he take it?"
Konrad stepped toward her, gently, as he would approach a wounded animal. "If he had taken your hand, would you both have fallen?"
She looked at him, eyes stricken. She nodded, then hid her face in her hands and said, muffled, "Yes, yes, yes."
Konrad touched her shoulder. She flinched, but did not step away. He encircled her in his arms, and she let him.
"Tereza needs to see you, Elaine," Jonathan said. His voice still sounded distant, as if someone else were speaking.
She looked at him, pain so plain in her face that it was like a physical force. "Must I keep telling it over and over again?"
"Let her see you are safe, then I will tell her."
Elaine took a deep breath, leaning into Konrad's body, seeming to take strength from his touch. Even through his numbness, Jonathan looked at the two of them and saw something he hadn't before-a couple. He shook his head. Time enough for that.
He opened the door, forcing a smile on his lips. "Tereza, Elaine is safe."
Konrad led her through the door, arm still protectively around her shoulders. Tereza's cry of, «Elaine» and her reaching hand were pure joy.
Jonathan stood back and let his wife have her reunion, her moment of relief and happiness, before it occurred to her that someone was missing. He watched the happy tears and waited.
TWENTY-SIX
"So, Elaine is dead," Tereza said. She was the first one to utter that most final of all words. Jonathan had been thinking them, probably everyone had, but it was Tereza who had the courage to speak.
"Why would the creature carry off his body?" Kon-rad asked. "And why didn't it kill Elaine?"
Elaine was sitting in the room's only chair. Jonathan sat on the edge of the bed. Konrad leaned against the wall. He was frowning. After the initial surprise at finding Elaine alive, he had gone back to his more typical behavior: frowns, suspicion.
"I don't know why I'm alive," Elaine said. "It could have killed me or let the others do it."
"You're sure the other dead obey some of the better-preserved zombies," Jonathan asked.
She nodded. "I saw it three times, with three different undead. The normal zombies obey the others."
"Why did the female zombie take Elaine to see the cemetery?" Tereza asked.
Jonathan stood and paced to the far wall. He turned and looked at them all.
"You know something," Tereza said.
"Why? Why would anyone raise the dead, kill off a third of a village? Why?"
"Whoever it is is mad," Konrad said.
Jonathan shook his head. "Even madness has a logic, just a peculiar logic."
"Do you know why?" Elaine asked.
"Perhaps."
"Jonathan, no games, just tell us," Tereza said.
He nodded. "What if he is trying to make a better zombie?"
Three pairs of eyes stared at him. Tereza gave a snort of laughter. "Jonathan, why would anyone kill so many people just for that?"
"Remember what Konrad said, that it is madness. Perhaps to a madman, perfecting his undead is worth the cost."
Elaine shook her head. "No, there has to be more to it than that."
"Why, Elaine?" Jonathan asked.
She looked up at him, face solemn. "Because Blaine died. It has to be more than making a better zombie. That's …" She stopped, then said, "A ridiculous thing to die over."
"It is the blackest of arts to raise the undead, Elaine. Blaine died to save this village. He died to save you. Those are good reasons."
She stared at her lap and said softly, "There are no good reasons to die."
He knelt beside her, taking her hands in his. Her skin was cold to the touch. "Elaine, you know what we are, what we strive for. It is a worthy goal to destroy evil. It is worth dying for."
The look she gave him was so bleak he flinched. "Blaine was worth more to me than this cursed village. I beat on a door. I screamed for help, and no one helped me. Not a single door opened. They don't deserve our help."
"Elaine, Elaine, we do not help them for their sakes. We help them because it is the right thing to do. We do the right thing, even when others do not."
"I say, let them die."
He was so astonished at the cold hate in her voice that he didn't know what to say.
"I say we find out who is raising this army and kill him instead," Konrad said. He knelt on the other side of Elaine. His face softened, almost the old Konrad looking up at her, a gentleness in his eyes that surprised Jonathan.
Elaine stared into his face. Jonathan wasn't sure what she saw in his eyes, but it seemed to satisfy her. "Yes, we'll find who did this, all of it, and kill him."
"We are agents of justice, not mere revenge," Jonathan said.
Elaine and Konrad looked at him, and their expressions were almost identical. They said quite clearly that he was a fool. He had become accustomed to the bitterness in Konrad, but it was chilling in Elaine's lovely face.
"We have the same goals," Tereza said suddenly. Her voice startled Jonathan, why, he wasn't sure. "We all want this evil to end. We all want the person or persons behind it stopped."
"We are not vigilantes," Jonathan said. "If we can bring the sorcerer to prison for trial, we will do so."
He looked at her bleak, pain-filled eyes and believed she could. Some piece of her heart had died when Blaine died.
If Jonathan allowed her to kill in cold blood, that piece would never live again. He would stop her, if he could. But he hadn't been doing a good job keeping his people safe of late.
There was a soft knock at the door, but it opened before anyone could speak. Gersalius stood in the doorway. "I felt your thoughts, your grief. I am so sorry." From the wizard the empty words seemed to mean something.
Elaine nodded. "Thank you."
"If you are well enough, I would show you a spell I have found."
She looked up at that. "What do you mean, found?"
"There is a spell on almost everything in this village. It is subtle, like a trip spell, but it is there. I thought Jonathan might trust my news better if you saw it and explained it to him." The wizard didn't seem offended by that bit of truth.
Elaine glanced at Jonathan, either for permission or confirmation.
Jonathan nodded. "Go with him. Learn what you can and report back."
She touched his face, fingers gentle. "So there is room in the brotherhood for a wizard, after all?"
He glanced back at Gersalius, startled that she had spoken in front of him. "He can read my thoughts, Jonathan. It's hard to keep secrets that way."
"My word of honor that all secrets accidently overheard are safe with me," the wizard said.
Jonathan looked back at Elaine. Her face was calm. She had faith in the wizard. Jonathan had faith in Elaine. "Very well, go with him. Report back as soon as you can."
"Night will be falling in a few hours," she said.
"Yes," he said, "and we must have answers before then."
Elaine looked down at her lap. "I can heal Tereza's arm." She looked up at him, glancing toward Tereza.
Jonathan exchanged a look with Tereza. He loved Elaine, but he would not let her heal again. It was magic, and it was evil. He believed that. He still believed that. But it was Tereza's arm.
Death of a Darklord (ravenloft) Page 21
