“Tortured me? Of a sort. It doesn’t matter.”
Menselas’s power washed through Aldric. Warm, calm, joyful. Strangely, he could not apply it to Kurio, as if something about her repulsed the god’s power. He delved deeper to find the cause of the resistance. Her blood … it was tainted with something he’d never seen before.
Menselas’s power suddenly surged, and the cuts and redness on Kurio’s wrists diminished, then faded to old marks. Her palms smoothed, and she gasped.
“There,” Aldric said gently. “Isn’t that better?”
She jerked her hand from his. “Yes. Thank you.”
Weariness settled over Aldric. He shouldn’t have healed this close to the Dead-eyes’ incursion. But Kurio had pain in her eyes, and she’d been through so much.
“When you’re back in Caronath,” he said, “if you need help, with anything, look for me at the Church of the Five.”
Kurio nodded, not saying anything.
“I felt something,” Aldric said cautiously, “in your blood. There’s something amiss.”
She glared at him, eyes hard, and snapped, “Mind your own business.” Then looked away, sullen and distant.
“Aldric!” called Niklaus from outside. “Neb wants you!”
Aldric squeezed Kurio’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. You’ll be fine. It’ll all be over by morning.”
~ ~ ~
As more of the strangers returned to the hall, Kurio felt uncomfortable among a growing crowd. She escaped to a nearby stream and took her time washing. She didn’t have a change of clothes, so had to put her dusty and sweat-stinking shirt and pants back on, but at least she felt more human.
If human I am …
Remembering Aldric had noticed the turtle on her belt, she transferred it to a pocket, then walked around the settlement—Cherish, they called it—looking at the wooden defense barricades, with a funnel to guide the Dead-eyes into a cleared space. Although most of the settlers were resting, a few were being drilled by the middle-aged man named Razmus and Bryn, a wiry swordsman who moved gracefully. His bearing and ease with his slightly curved sword spoke volumes: she knew a killer when she saw one. As she strolled past, she noticed his silver sword pommel was carved with a hideously disfigured face. Not to her taste, but most men thought details like that fleshed out a picture of themselves they wanted the world to see.
Kurio had the figure of a boy and wasn’t wearing skirts, but that didn’t stop the settlers from staring at her and making comments. They were used to seeing the same women day in, day out, she thought, and the sight of someone new had made them forget their manners. Eager for solitude, she filched two apples from a passing cart, tucked them into her shirt, and scrambled up the side of a building and perched on its roof.
The apples were deliciously tart and full of flavor, but the view was uninspiring. Farmland and crops, animals and trees. Settlers hurrying from building to building, preparing for the Dead-eyes as if an entire army was about to invade their shithole in the woods. Somewhere behind her a woman shouted, and something thumped against the side of the building.
Kurio nibbled on the apple core. There was a time soon after she’d run away from her parents when an apple core would have been a luxury. Not that she’d gone hungry, but rats and pigeons were far more plentiful than fresh fruit.
“Fancy meeting you here,” a woman said.
Kurio turned to see the severe-faced priestess standing on the roof, her skirt hitched up to reveal slender ankles that were so white they mustn’t have seen the light of day for quite some time. What was interesting was that Kurio hadn’t heard her climbing up, which would have been a feat in that skirt.
“Are you a sorcerer?” she asked.
“Oh, goodness, no. There was a ladder close by, and I politely asked for assistance from some of the young men avoiding work.”
Kurio snorted in amusement. That explained the shouting and the thump. “Careful up here,” she said. “It’s getting dark. What do you want?”
“So blunt,” Valeria said.
She gingerly shuffled along the sloping roof and sat down next to Kurio, arranging her skirt over her legs. Her nails were painted a dark purple. This close, Kurio could see her clothes were made of quality cloth, and she had silver chains braided into her long hair. Priestessing must pay well.
“Aren’t you helping with the preparations?” Kurio asked.
“I’ve done all I can. Now it’s up to the warriors and settlers to defend the place against the Dead-eyes.” She shrugged. “It won’t be hard, and then we can investigate the ruin.”
“What ruin?”
The ruin was why Mellish had brought her all the way out here, but Kurio wondered why it was of interest to Valeria.
Valeria stared at her for a long moment. “You really don’t know? Never mind, then. Tomorrow, you and your friend can be on your way. He’s quite attractive, isn’t he?”
Kurio half shrugged. “Some women would say that.”
“Well, I did say that,” said Valeria. “But I’m not here to talk about him. Does he know about your necklace? About the pain it can cause you?”
For an instant, Kurio couldn’t breathe, her chest tight. It took a few heartbeats for the sensation to pass. When it did, she tossed the remains of her apple core off the roof, aiming for, and missing, an old man in stained, rough-spun clothes. Wiping her hand on her pants, she felt for the turtle in her pocket to make sure it was still there.
“What do you know about it?” Her words came out softer than she’d intended.
“I know it was stolen from our church, one of a few. The thieves had no idea what they were taking. How you come to be wearing it, I couldn’t begin to guess. But I can imagine what you’ve been through. When you escaped, did you take the triggering artifact? It’s in the shape of a turtle.”
“No,” said Kurio automatically.
“It was the man you killed, wasn’t it, who gifted you with such pain? You must have a talent or knowledge he wanted to use; otherwise why put the collar on you. What is it?”
Kurio didn’t like that the priestess had figured out so much about her. And calling the agony of the collar a “gift” was absurd.
“I could tell you,” she said, “for enough coin.”
“How about I remove the collar instead? My Church will pay a handsome sum to get it back.”
It didn’t require much thought to agree. She hated the collar. Hated Mellish and Zarina for forcing it on her. Her only regret was that Mellish’s death had been relatively quick.
“Remove it, please,” she said. “But I’ll return it to your Church myself.”
“You’ll have to. It has tasted your pain now.” Valeria reached up to touch the collar. To Kurio’s surprise, it tingled and warmed, then opened with a metallic snick. She pulled it free and held it in her palms. It looked so innocuous, so plain, for something that caused such agony.
“What was it like?” asked Valeria.
“Wearing the collar?”
“No. The pain. I’ve heard it’s exquisite.”
Kurio stared at the priestess. She must be mad. Maybe everyone was, even Kurio herself. “It was … intense.”
Valeria’s fingers trailed across the thin metal, and she leaned close. “During the pain, did you sense her?”
Kurio drew away. She had thought she’d felt someone, but it had been a hallucination caused by the agony.
“Who?” she asked.
“The goddess. The Lady Sylva Kalisia.” Valeria clasped her hands together. “I see you’re reluctant to talk about it. Perhaps you’ll be more amenable tomorrow.”
She made to rise, but before she left, words tumbled from Kurio. “His name was Mellish, the man who used the collar on me. But he’s dead now. I killed him.”
“Good. Was there anyone else?”
Kurio nodded. “A woman. Zarina. She was the one who put it around my neck. They said they belonged to the Order of the Blazing Sun.”
“Ah … I have heard of them. They�
�re diminished, but still manage to make a nuisance of themselves. Thank you for that information. I’ll notify my Church when I return to Caronath. This woman—did she happen to be wearing an amulet made from orichalcum? One with tiny Skanuric runes etched over its surface?”
Kurio had to stop her hand from moving to touch the amulet where it rested between her breasts. She shook her head slowly. “Sorry.”
Valeria released a heavy sigh. “Are you sure? It would look something like this.” She drew out an amulet from under her shirt. It looked exactly like the one Kurio had taken from Mellish. “It was also stolen from us. Only high priestesses wear them, and they … bestow certain benefits.”
“I didn’t see anything like that,” Kurio said.
“Well,” said Valeria, “ask for me when you bring the collar back to our church.”
She smiled at Kurio, then gingerly made her way back down the roof to the ladder.
Kurio returned to looking out over Cherish and beyond. She had a creeping suspicion that more had passed between her and Valeria than she was aware of.
And had she really sensed a goddess in the midst of all that pain?
Chapter Thirty-One
Blood and Sorcery
FULL-DARK DESCENDED ON CHERISH. Chandra, usually the first moon to rise, stayed below the horizon, as did the red orb of Jagonath. Only a milky band of stars crossed the pitch-black sky. The background hum of the night was abnormally quiet. Without the moons’ glow, nocturnal animals didn’t come out to hunt. Even the crickets were silent.
In long-forgotten ruins and crypts, this was the time the undead rose. And in the wilderness, the Dead-eyes were at their boldest and most ravenous.
They came shortly before midnight.
Soki sent incandescent globes spiraling into the night, slicing away the darkness and bathing the areas outside the settlement in radiant light. One globe would have exhausted Aldric, but Soki sent one after the other, explaining the calculations and methods of their creation to Priska between complex cants. Aldric couldn’t help but gape in awe at her skill.
The settlers crouched behind the barricades, fearful and trembling. Some cried out in admiration at the spectacle of Soki’s sorcery of such power they’d never witnessed, bleaching the night. But most were too scared to do more than mutter imprecations and grip their weapons in white-knuckled hands.
Aldric positioned himself between two buildings in one of the openings they’d left, with Niklaus, Bryn, Razmus, and Stray Dog around him. From here they could see where the Dead-eyes were more numerous and position themselves to take the brunt of the attack.
Valeria had disappeared, likely hiding somewhere until the fight was all over. Gannon had volunteered to stand by the hall with Kurio for support, to reinforce any settlers who looked to be in difficulty.
A few settlers cried out and pointed. Others howled in terror. Someone threw a spear over a barricade; it landed barely twenty paces away.
In the distance, pouring down the cliff sides, came the Dead-eyes. Not dozens, but hundreds. More than the trees of the forest. Carpeting the fields like a plague of locusts. White flesh, stick limbs, fanged mouths, and a thousand staring boiled-egg eyes. A mass keening wail erupted from the creatures, knifing the air with inhuman hunger. Driven by some primal urge as old as time, they had come to feast on flesh, to crack bones for their soft marrow, to defile and desecrate.
“Shit, shit, shit,” hissed Bryn.
“The barricades will be useless,” Stray Dog said flatly.
He was right, realized Aldric. There was no way they’d be able to hold the barricades. No chance they’d kill all of the Dead-eyes and leave Cherish unscathed. There were simply too many of them.
“Get back!” he shouted to the settlers. “Back to the houses!”
“Which houses?” yelled Drusst, the miller. His eyes were wild, mouth twisted in fear.
Aldric didn’t know. He hadn’t planned for this. Where had they all come from? He’d never seen or heard of this many Dead-eyes attacking before.
“It doesn’t matter,” shouted Niklaus. “We’ll protect the retreat and clear the streets. Just run!”
“Bryn and Stray Dog, form a line with us, and we’ll give the settlers time to escape,” Aldric said. “Soki!” he yelled. Sorcery, his nemesis, was the only force that could save them now.
“I see them!” she answered from somewhere behind and above them.
Aldric turned and saw that Soki and Priska had climbed onto a roof, their feet planted on either side of its peak. Soki snarled a cant, and Priska followed her lead. Dawn-tide and dusk-tide sorcery combined, a potent, complex mix. Globe after globe appeared above Soki, each burning with furious layered-orange intensity. Moments after they materialized, they arced through the air with an earsplitting howl. Priska’s globes were smaller and wobbly, but they too darted away from the now chanting sorcerers to land outside the settlement. There was a sudden glare and a muffled detonation. The trees cracked like twigs, and Dead-eyes were blown sideways. Some tumbled lifeless to the ground while others clutched at gaping wounds. Some flamed like burning torches, screeching in their incomprehensible tongue. Still more flinched and ducked, crawling on their bellies.
Another globe struck. Then another. A rain of fire and death fell upon the horde of Dead-eyes, a sorcerer at the height of her power scorching the earth with furious cants.
The Dead-eyes thrashed and cracked and burned in the dozens. Their wails and screeches intensified into an incoherent roar. But still more of the creatures came, scrambling between trees, among rocks, clambering around the devastation. A pale tide of rushing inhumanity.
The first one clambered up an outer barricade, clawing at the recently hewn logs, a silhouette lit against scourging arcane energy. Then, like a breaking thunderstorm, they came as a deluge of howling maws and scrabbling talons.
“Hold the line!” Aldric shouted. “Watch your back!” Where were Gannon and Kurio? He couldn’t see them anywhere.
“Bloody hells,” growled Stray Dog, his twin axes weaving as he readied himself.
“Goddess damn you, Niklaus,” Bryn said through clenched teeth. “There’d better be treasure after we’ve slaughtered these maggots.”
Razmus’s face was grim, his eyes constantly flicking to Priska and back to the approaching Dead-eyes. “I’ll stand with the settlers,” he said. “If I’m there, they’ll be less afraid. I’ll make sure they don’t run.”
He dashed off to the group of settlers waiting by the killing ground behind the barricades.
Aldric drew his khopesh, the silvered blade shining in the gloom. “He’s right. We need to protect the settlers and the women and children.”
“Like hells!” Bryn snarled. “We need to hole up somewhere too!”
“Scared, Bryn?” Niklaus laughed. “I didn’t pick you for a pants-pisser! Run, then!” He drew his short sword in his left hand, his cane tucked into his belt.
Dead-eyes flowed over the barricades, their spiderlike stick limbs creating a grotesque backdrop.
Niklaus took a step forward and reached for his chest strap. In one swift movement, the sword on his back swung down to his hip, and he drew the blade. It shone like moonlight on a river. Aldric saw sorcerous runes stamped on the first third of the steel and caught a glimpse of a winged woman.
“Watch your own backs,” Niklaus said, then raced toward the horde.
Bryn and Stray Dog both looked at Aldric. Holy Menselas, we should remain together.
“Stay here,” Aldric commanded them. “Niklaus!” he shouted.
Small orange globes landed among the creatures inside the barricade—Priska’s sorcery—while Soki’s more potent spheres continued to rain down outside the settlement. Aldric knew Soki wouldn’t risk using her deadly sorcery so close to them, so she was doing as much damage as she could before resorting to finer arcane weavings.
The first of the Dead-eyes struck at Niklaus. They moved fast, gangly limbs slashing and pointed teeth chomping.
Niklaus moved faster, his blades a shimmering blur, his long sword leaving a swathe of light in its wake. Dead-eyes engulfed him. Their crazed faces shrieked, and their milky blood sprayed all around. Niklaus stood firm, an immovable rock. The mercenary’s ability was unmatched. Nothing would get past him. He was an anchor they could all tie to.
“Let’s go!” Aldric cried. “To Niklaus.”
He, Bryn, and Stray Dog rushed to join the fray. Aldric slashed with his khopesh, battering the snarling faces all around. They fell, wailing, only to be immediately replaced. Soon he and his companions were slipping in mud formed from the creatures’ blood. Stray Dog’s axes weaved and hacked, his face sheened with sweat. Bryn danced and leaped in a vicious display of skill.
But they’d done little to stem the tide.
Niklaus surged forward a few steps, but Aldric noticed the Dead-eyes were slipping past them, ignoring the bulwark of death they’d created.
“The settlers,” he gasped, and coughed against the gut-wrenching stench of gore.
He glanced behind to check on Soki and Priska. Both were surrounded by spherical shields that repelled the few Dead-eyes that climbed onto the roof. Soki raised her hand and shouted a cant. Sorcery blasted along the roof and swept three Dead-eyes to the ground.
Niklaus’s laughter reached Aldric. The mercenary’s blades blurred in an intricate dance of steel, felling several more Dead-eyes.
“They’re thinning out here,” Aldric called to him. “They’re avoiding us. They know we’re the danger.”
Screams and terrified shouts sounded as Dead-eyes fought their way inside the houses. Two homes were alight, flames licking across their roofs. Aldric didn’t know whether the settlers were using fire to fight the Dead-eyes, or if the creatures had knocked over lamps or cooking fires. A group of women and children ran from one of the burning houses, escorted by a few men. He recognized one of them as Alvar, still in his noticeable straw hat.
“Alvar!” roared Stray Dog. “Get inside!” Blood dripped from numerous cuts on his arms.
Other settlers milled around, filled with terror. One woman screamed continuously, her shrill cries rising above the tumult.
Revenant Winds Page 40
