Circle of Skulls w-6

by James P. Davis

  "Ask me nicely," Rilyana said coyly, ignoring his discomfort and flashing gold eyes.

  "What?" he managed to ask as a scream echoed from upstairs, silencing the tavern's patrons. Smoke curled along the ceiling, and raised voices warned of fire as the crowd began to swiftly disperse. The ceiling shook with some unseen struggle, and a small explosion turned the crowd's dispersal into a desperate press. Rilyana disappeared among them, and Jinn stumbled forward, searching for Tallus when he caught sight of a growing shadow on the far wall.

  Heartbeat thrumming in his ears, his sword fairly leaped into his hand, some remembered battle cry teasing at his tongue, waiting for the trumpets of war. Massive, black-feathered wings took shape, hovering over the heads of the crowd and sprouting from armored shoulders. A wavering, blank visage watched him with coal black eyes that danced with the sparkling light of a thousand souls. Jinn was pulled forward, each step his own but compelled by a greater force, dragged like a lodestone to the north. A feral grin spread across his lips as the angel regarded him coolly.

  He forgot the murders, ignored the smoke and the screams, had no care for the fear of those driven before spreading flames. Sathariel had come and all the world's troubles were but trifles compared to Jinn's desire for the angel's pain. He jumped onto the bar, prepared to charge and end his years-long quest.

  "Jinn!"

  A faint voice cried out from somewhere amid the smoke, giving him a moment's pause, but he strode forward, stolen blade rising in his hand almost of its own accord, brandishing itself like a holy symbol to rebuke the unholy. He kicked half-empty glasses out of his way, striding toward his foe, but Sathariel's shadows began to dissipate, the wings slowly withdrawing.

  "No! Gods damn you, come back!" he cried as the black eyes faded.

  "Jinn!"

  He blinked, fury clouding his vision until the angel was gone. The pressure in his chest faded, the needling on his skin disappearing in a breath. Turning, he found Quessahn at the bar, frantic eyes pleading for him to hear her, though he'd abandoned his last care for anything else at the sight of the angel.

  "Allek is up there!" she pointed to the stairs and the cloud of smoke drifting from the second floor like misty snakes crawling along the walls. He gasped, cursing as the peculiar bloodlust left him, the stolen blade in his hand lowering as he realized he had forgotten his friend.

  Jumping down from the bar, he raced for the stairs. At the bottom step, he caught a blur of motion above him, a dark shape hurled against the upper wall like a rag doll. Wood splintered beneath Allek's body as the rorden fell limp on the stairs, arms splayed over his head, his uniform's tabard torn away. Blood trickled down from the carved wounds upon his chest, already pooling in the hollow of his neck, dripping like a crimson necklace to the stairs. His friend's blank eyes stared at him almost accusingly beneath the wavering, smoky figure that stood at the top of the stairs.

  Shadowy curls of black mist obscured the figure's features from head to toe, only the fiery glow of two flaming green eyes was visible within the insubstantial cloak. Allek's blade gleamed with red in the figure's hand.

  Sigils, Jinn thought. Green flames. The killer.

  He took the stairs two at a time as the figure turned away, billowing shadow stuff trailing behind the murderer in wispy ribbons. Jinn skirted the edges of a roaring flame, his boots crunching on the shards of a broken lantern as he made the last step. A private feast hall lay in ruins, the long table and chairs thrown aside, blood streaked across the floor. The killer stood at the broken window, eyes tilted curiously as Jinn approached.

  "We do not recall you, deva," it said in a hollow, split-toned voice that growled and rolled through the room well after the words had been spoken.

  "After a day of being recognized by strangers, I find that refreshing," Jinn replied and charged forward, but the figure had already slipped through the broken window and had begun to climb.

  Jinn followed, pulling himself out onto a small balcony and jumping for the edge of the low roof. Shouting voices filled the streets, and fire bells had been rung, summoning water lines to douse the flames inside. He struggled at the damp edge of the roof, fingers chilled by bits of forming ice as he pulled himself up into a crouch. At the top of the cornered rooftop, the killer stood watching, eyes still tilted quizzically at his efforts.

  He bounded up nimbly, navigating the rows of roof tiles. Swords raised, the pair met in a flurry of flashing blades. In three quick, hand-numbing clashes, their blades locked and the killer leaned in close, studying Jinn's face casually as the deva struggled against its unnatural strength. Winter wind whipped at his cloak and blew thin the wreath of smoke around his opponent, revealing a human figure if little else beneath the obscuring mist.

  "Why have you come here?" it asked. A warm stench like burning flesh wafted across Jinn's face. "What do you wish of us?"

  Blood, Allek's blood, slid down the killer's sword, dripping cold over Jinn's hands. He squinted in the ghostly light of the green eyes. The wetted blade pushed closer to his throat, and he strained, finding strength enough to hold it back.

  "The angel," he managed to answer.

  "Ah," the killer replied, pulling back. His blade twisted in a smooth motion, sliding down with a hellish screech until the pommel rested on Jinn's shoulder. The push seemed effortless, though it threw Jinn back as if he weighed nothing. He rolled down the roof, knocking tiles free as he scrambled to halt his descent, stopping only at the edge, his boots braced just at the drop. The killer never moved. "We smell vengeance in your blood, deva."

  A chorus of discordant chuckles growled at Jinn as the killer tossed aside his bloody weapon, letting it fall to the street as he walked the apex of the roof, standing at its edge carelessly.

  "It seems we know of you after all," the figure continued, letting one foot dangle over the drop. "We shall speak again, killer of angels."

  In a whoosh of smoke, the figure fell, disappearing as Jinn crawled to his feet and ran to where the killer had disappeared. Though the alley behind the Storm's Front was still dark, he could see the dying light of the flaming green eyes as shreds of shadow dissipated and flew away from the broken body below.

  Quickly he lowered himself over the side, climbing down from one windowsill to the next lower until he could jump to the ground. As he approached the body, the smoke was all but gone, the emerald light leaving behind pale, glazed-over eyes.

  The body of a young woman, one of several who'd been in the tavern barely hours earlier, drinking and laughing, lay dead in the alley. Jinn shook his head, sheathing his sword and kneeling to study the girl in confusion.

  "Possession?" he muttered quietly, feeling the chill of the girl's skin on arms as fragile as a child's, nowhere near capable of the strength he'd encountered above. Allek had spoken of multiple suspects, of madness and frantic claims of innocence. The fallen rorden's words began to fall into place, answering questions and at the same time creating new ones. Jinn stood back from the body, recalling more of what he'd been told. "Green flames… and skulls."

  Iron clattered to the cobbles at the other end of the alley, a long, metal hook left in the wake of a frightened lamplighter. The boy glanced back once, enough to provide the Watch with an accurate description of what and who he had seen. A flickering glow of firelight illuminated the dead girl as shouts for water echoed from the front of the building. Jinn sank back into the shadows, his stomach turning as he caught his breath and contemplated his options.

  "What lows to which you have stooped, deva," called a voice rumbling with power. A night black figure with wide wings, dark and feathered, crouched on the roof above. It half unfolded its wings with the hissing and crackling noise of dead leaves. "Presiding over the deaths of innocents? What a cold and unfeeling thing you have become, Jinnaoth."

  Jinn stared up into the midnight dark of the angel's glistening, black eyes, hand drifting to his stolen blade, overcome by a familiar sensation of unnatural bloodlust.

  "Sathari
el," he whispered through clenched teeth, cold steel tingling beneath his fingertips as he faced his enemy.

  FIVE

  NIGHTAL 20, THE YEAR OF DEEP WATER DRIFTING (1480 DR)

  Quessahn flinched as flames licked above her head, cinders popping around her as she knelt over the rorden's body. She traced the sigils carved in his chest one by one, noting the depth and preciseness of the cuts. She fought her natural instinct to look away, to flee the encroaching fire, her breaths coming short and quick as she tried to ignore the blood on her hands and the pale bone showing just beneath the edges of Allek's wounds. Lost in the puzzle of arcane runes and trying to remain calm, she almost missed the rorden's hand.

  It had fallen across the human's stomach, seemingly normal, until she noted the dark spot of one knuckle. Leaning closer, she found the left ring finger neatly severed and wondered at the mutilation, some obscure bit of her studies attempting to surface in her thoughts. At a loud crack, she abandoned the body and her curiosity as a section of the ceiling fell onto the stairs. She threw herself backward, landing awkwardly near the bottom of the steps and scrambling back on her hands to escape the flames, which glittered in the fallen human's blank eyes.

  She shuddered and ran for the common room, ducking low instinctively as sections of the ceiling bowed, slivers of orange light shining through the cracks. A lungful of smoke set her to coughing as she fell through the front door, landing on her hands and knees. Strong arms pulled her away from the burning tavern. Buckets of water sloshed by as she rubbed the redness from her eyes, steam hissing as several volunteers attempted to douse the flames.

  Pushing her way through the crowd of gawkers that had gathered to witness the spectacle, she pulled a small, bound book from her belt and quickly began to draw what she had seen before memory had any chance to fail her. Smudges of blood and ash accompanied each drawing, her hands shivering in the cold as she fought to reproduce the intricate patterns of the symbols. She slipped to the back of the crowd, observing her work and nodding in satisfaction.

  Must compare these to the others, she thought.

  "More water!"

  Quessahn flinched at the shout, recognizing the voice of Swordcaptain Dregg and drawing back farther from the crowd, pulling up her hood to conceal her elf features. She'd dealt with Dregg on more than one occasion and had no desire to encounter the foul man again. Studying figures outlined by the flames, she noticed quite a few of the Watch surrounding the tavern, not the least of which was Dregg himself, pacing with his fists planted on his hips, a swagger in his self-important step that made Quessahn want to vomit.

  She angled herself closer, watching for Jinn to come stumbling out of the smoke, but after several breaths, the flames just grew higher, defying her hopes and the buckets of water being splashed through the windows. A young officer approached Dregg with a worried expression, and Quessahn leaned forward, trying to listen.

  "Swordcaptain, several in the crowd say that Rorden Allek Marson was inside and has not escaped," the Watchman reported. "Maybe we should attempt to take one last look-"

  "Nonsense," Dregg cut him off. "We've already sent one man in; the good rorden is dead. However, we do have reports of a suspect, the rorden's companion, a man by the name of Jinnaoth."

  Quessahn's eyes widened at his words. She'd seen no one else inside, though the smoke had admittedly been thick, and she reasoned it would make Dregg only too happy if Jinn had murdered Rorden Allek. The swordcaptain would take great pleasure in hunting down an "undesirable" through the city streets.

  "Find a runner," Dregg continued. "Have him inform the other patrols of the deva; consider him well-armed and hostile."

  "Yes, Swordcaptain," the officer replied, turning to go. He was stopped by Dregg's hand on his arm.

  "Acting Rorden, Officer, at least until Lord Neverember makes it official," he said with a slight grin. "This investigation is mine now."

  The young officer seemed confused for a moment but nodded and left to follow Dregg's orders. Quessahn cursed and slipped away from the light of the fire. The Watch had protocols and procedures for rank promotions, procedures that should have weeded out dangerous men such as Lucian Dregg, but if Lord Neverember had paved Dregg's path through the ranks… Allek's investigation had been in secret. Dregg could maintain total control for several days before the Watch commanders could reassess the situation.

  Plenty of time for much damage to be done, she thought. I've got to find Jinn, and quick.

  She studied the burning tavern, her eyes settling upon the edge of the angled roof and following it around, past the crowd, to a darkened alley. A woman stood at the edge of the alley, eyeing the Watch and the crowd but suspiciously ignoring the burning tavern. Quessahn skirted behind the gathering, trying to appear casual as she studied the dark-haired woman and the unlit alley.

  Common spells slid comfortably to the forefront of her thoughts, arranging themselves like familiar constellations in her mind. Others, darker spells that slithered comfortably in the recesses of her memory, she held in reserve, just in case. The dark-haired woman casually stepped into the alley, disappearing in the shadows.

  Taking a deep breath, Quessahn followed.

  Jinn pulled his hand away from the stolen blade, a breath of clarity leaving him a bit dazed as he stared up into the black eyes of Sathariel. He sensed some hitherto unknown enchantment in the weapon, something trying to force his hand when he had his own pool of hatred to draw from when dealing with the angel. Study of the sword could wait. He couldn't reach Sathariel, not fast enough at any rate, and refused to amuse his enemy by attempting to do so.

  "You're lost in this, deva," Sathariel said, scanning his black eyes across the city. "Out of your depth, a relic of wars long over and meaningless."

  "I found you," Jinn replied. "And the wars never ended."

  "Mulhorand's gods are lost. They left you here, stuck in that mortal body," the angel said. "And here you are, scrambling for purpose, fighting for fleeting glories in mortal causes that serve only to feed your arrogance. Variel was right about you…"

  Jinn's fists clenched at the sound of her name from the beast that had taken her away from him. For a breath he considered the height of the nearest wall, the street lantern hook above, the window ledge above that, but fought the impulse down. He was certain he would battle the angel on even terms soon enough and would not be goaded into making himself vulnerable.

  "She said you would never quit, never stop long enough to see the lives you might have spent together. She knew that my destruction would mean nothing," Sathariel said, rising and spreading wide his black wings. "You cannot stop what is to come, Jinnaoth. You should have left this city when Variel asked you to."

  Cold wind gusted through the alley as Sathariel ascended into the night, one shadow among many in the rolling clouds, leaving Jinn to stare for what seemed forever, hand once again on the blade stolen from the Vigilant Order. He recalled the scent of Variel's hair resting on his shoulder, the look in her silver eyes as she'd pleaded for him to abandon Waterdeep, a city not yet named when they had been already quite old. He wondered, as he always did, if he would have answered her differently if he had the chance to do it all over again.

  "One of yours?"

  Mara's voice pulled him away from reverie, and he turned to the body of the young woman in the alley. Mara knelt over the girl, sniffing the air and tracing the twisting angle of a lifeless arm.

  "No," he answered as the hag whispered harshly over the corpse, eyes burning red as she cupped her hands close to the girl's lips. "She was possessed by something."

  "Useless!" Mara growled, recoiling from the body and shaking the red dust of a crushed gem from her hands. "The soul is like ash, burned away to nothing." "Jinn!" Quessahn arrived, circling round the scowling Mara, hands almost glowing with arcane threat. "The Watch is looking for you; Dregg is in charge."

  "That didn't take long," he muttered, placing a calming hand on her shoulder and nodding to Mara. "We'l
l need to be quick, then. Distraction?"

  "How far?" Mara asked, old strategies already in motion.

  "Slow down! Who is this?" Quessahn asked, shoving his hand away and eyeing the body between them. "What in the Abyss is happening here?"

  "Pharra's Alley," Jinn replied, ignoring the eladrin's confusion. "And take Quessahn with you."

  "If you insist," Mara said, staring her up and down disapprovingly.

  "Jinn, what's going on?" Quessahn pressed, narrowing her eyes.

  "No time," he said. "Just follow Mara's lead. We'll meet up later."

  He didn't wait for her response, turning the east corner. He half hoped she might just leave her findings about the sigils with Maranyuss and abandon him for her studies at the House of Wonder, but he knew her stubbornness would keep her around a while longer.

  Sliding along the wall, he peered around the corner at a slowly dispersing crowd bathed in orange light. The Watchmen present seemed focused on maintaining a perimeter as the bucket line did what it could to quench the fire. A handful of the Watchful Order had arrived, producing spells of water to douse the hottest of the flames.

  Taking advantage of the distraction, Jinn sprinted across the street, keeping to the shadows of back alleys and smaller roads. He didn't know what he might find at Pharra's Alley, but he needed a chance to look closer, to find the circle of skulls.

  Halfway to Ivory Street, he paused, seeing the bobbing light of a Watch patrol coming toward him. Cursing, he turned back, entering a winding series of alleys behind the shops and homes of the Street of Glances. The dark was more pervasive there, with lanterns spaced at wider intervals. In any other part of the city, it might have been considered a place to avoid after evenpeal. As it was, in Sea Ward, the dangers were less random and brutal than specific and well planned. Good coin was spent to keep certain elements out of the ward, and for the most part, the Watch was quite successful.