"I don't know how I feel about more Ancestors in my life right now Chelsea. The last few weren't terribly helpful to my current state of being," Umaryn said.
Chelsea slowed Bordo down to match Tinder's pace. "Not all Ancestors are like the ones that attacked us earlier. Like normal people, most spirits are good at heart. Normal people the same as you and I. I can't speak for your brother being normal. He doesn't seem terribly normal."
"I heard that," Mal shot back.
"You were meant to. I'm still very much undecided on the nature of your story now Mal. A death mage? Had I known this I would've never agreed to meeting you. Considering you and I as a courtship." Chelsea's tone was harsh, and Malwynn looked hurt.
Umaryn stepped up for her brother after a minute riding with only the sound of the horseshoes slapping against stone to break up the void. "Malwynn is a good man Chelsea. At heart, he wants justice, and a simple life, and little boys and girls underfoot. He wants peace and safety, and love. When we were put out alone, orphaned by the Empire, he chose to use the weapon the Ancestors blessed him with, and that was necromancy. Had you lost your mother, your father, and all you knew and loved, I suspect you'd make some sacrifices to make things right. My brother is a good man. You'd be foolish to look away over something so little as his particular powers in The Way."
"Something so little? You realize we're about to go to war with a nation that is primarily ruled by necromancers, who lead an army of the undead? I think it is not so little," Chelsea said defiantly.
"It is a little thing. We are not defined by the magic that courses through us Chelsea. How we choose to use that power defines us. Mal could be living in the Empire right now as a noble, rich and wealthy beyond anything we'd ever imagine growing up, sitting atop his own throne, ruling over a horde of his own undead were that his choosing. But he hasn’t. He's here, with me, setting things right. But I can tell you this; my brother is an incredible man, and if Varrland goes to war with the Empire, I can think of no better mage to bring with you than one that can banish the dead with but a touch of their hand, and who learned that craft from one of the most powerful necromancers in the High City. Vying for your heart is a man who represents one of the greatest assets Varrland can bring to bear in this time of trouble."
Chelsea had no answer to that, and the three rode on for many minutes.
Finally Malwynn spoke. "Thank you sister."
"You're welcome brother."
Chelsea knocked on the door of the simple two floor wooden home that belonged to her mother and father as Mal returned from tying their mounts to the post just down the sidewalk. The home was modest and welcoming, even in the dark city night. Chelsea rapped her knuckles again, and they heard her father bark out from the second floor.
"Ancestors! Calm yourself! I'm coming!" The man had a thick Varrlander accent.
Chelsea whispered, "My father was a soldier the same as I. He can be quick to anger. Let me do the talking."
The twins nodded.
The door opened after a heavy bolt was thrown, and a white haired man wearing a pale blue nightgown stood in the frame. In his right hand he comfortably held a small twin bladed axe, and on his face he sported the scowl of a man roused from sleep. When he made eye contact with Chelsea, his expression softened.
"Peanut? What are you doing here at this hour?" He said softly.
"Peanut?" Mal asked incredulously.
Chelsea gave Mal a death stare that made Umaryn chuckle. Chelsea then spoke to her father, "Sorry to bother you pa, but I've a pair of friends here that took a bit of a beating in a scuffle. We got the best of the ruffians, but I was wondering if ma was available to summon some healing for them? Is ma awake?"
Her father made a showing of the whole affair being forgettable. He said as much waving the tip of the axe around as he did with his mouth, "Your mother, of course she'll summon the elders for you. She wouldn't let a field mouse suffer if she had anything to say about it. Introduce me to your friends. Come in, come in." He waved them in with the axe.
The trio entered the low ceiling, thickly beamed home. They entered a kitchen that smelled of bread baked earlier in the night, and roasted meats. It was a welcome smell. Chelsea spoke, "Father this is Malwynn Everwalk, and his sister Umaryn."
The twins exchanged hellos as the father gave them the once over, "Nice armor lady. A bit heavy for a late night walk though, idn't it?"
Umaryn smiled despite herself, "We kind of expected to get jumped tonight. I wore it out of a desire to be prepared."
The father looked like he appreciated the reply. He turned to Chelsea, "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?"
"Sorry pa. Mal, Umaryn, this is my father, Nathan Rourke. Retired First Sergeant of the Darisian 2nd Infantry."
Nathan puffed up, proud.
"You must be very proud of your daughter," Mal said.
Nathan grumbled something affectionate as he shut the door behind them and threw the bolt. The older man sat his axe down on the kitchen table and shuffled away with a slight limp towards the stairs.
Chelsea waited for him to leave earshot before speaking sadly, "Old war wound. Another Empire skirmish. He wishes I were born a man. Men are bigger and stronger. I'll never be the general he wanted."
Mal frowned, "You'll be a general someday. You might be a woman general, but you'll lead men. He'll need to be proud of that."
Chelsea shrugged as a woman came down the steps and into the kitchen. She wore a matching nightgown to the one Nathan had on, though her hair was more silver than white. Her husband was on her heels coming down the stairs.
"Peanut my love, what brings you here this late?" Chelsea's mother said as she wrapped her in a mother's embrace. The woman had a gentle face, and matronly bearing. The twins felt a pang of loss.
"My friends Mal and Umaryn were attacked earlier tonight, and I brought them here hoping you'd be able to heal them. I'm sorry to wake you and pa."
"Nonsense. I'm a healer. An Apostle. Which of your friends is hurt more? Oh I can see it's the lady. Come young woman, shed your turtle shell and lay on the couch. Quickly now. No telling if you've got bleeding on the inside. Nathan get a pot over the hearth and stoke the flames. We'll need tea. My name is Agnes Rourke, Mal and Umaryn. It is a pleasure to have friends of my daughter into my home."
"It is a pleasure to be here," Umaryn said through gritted teeth as she undid the clasps and buckles on her armor.
"Thank you," Mal said softly as he helped his sister. This woman felt like home.
"The trick is to call to a spirit you're familiar with," Agnes said as she pulled one of the wooden kitchen chairs over to the side of the couch that Umaryn laid on. Everyone else had formed a semi-circle in the room around them, watching.
"A family member?" Umaryn asked from her back, a bead of sweat trickling down her temple.
Agnes nodded and gently rubber her hands together over Umaryn's breast. "Or a well known person who lived in the area. If you knew a person who was a gifted healer in their life, that would work as well. A connection to the healing is paramount Umaryn. Have you someone I could pray to? Someone special you once knew who was a healer?"
Umaryn's face grew cold. "No one who would answer your prayer Agnes. I'm sorry."
Agnes looked at Umaryn for a bit, trying to find the meaning behind her statement. Agnes looked over her shoulder at Mal and saw a similar pain.
"There are many I know. Lay still my dear. Your pain will be gone shortly." Agnes' hands had never stopped in their gentle rubbing, but now they did. Her hands formed a fan shape above Umaryn's chest, and she closed her eyes for a short prayer. Her fingertips gave off a soft white glow the moment she began to speak. "Grandmother Wendlyn I pray to you and your ways to heal the flesh of this child. I wish of you to share your blood, your eternal energy, and give her back health and longevity."
Immediately Umaryn's face showed relief. As the glowing light emanated from Agnes' extended fingers, and as those fingers moved ac
ross the younger woman's flesh, the dark purple bruises faded away, and the swelling abated. Her normal skin tone settled back in and her breathing resumed a normal pattern.
"Thank you Agnes. Thank the ancestors," Umayn said. It was the first time she'd spoke in a normal, pain free tone since she'd been slammed into the wall by the murderous spirit.
"Thank the ancestors indeed. Drink the tea Nathan made for you, then sleep here on the couch Umaryn. Mal, you'll need to sleep on the floor, I'll see to it you get a good blanket. I'd offer you a bed upstairs, but Chelsea will have her room back tonight—"
"Mother I can't stay," Chelsea interrupted. "I need to return to Marcus tonight to prepare things for tomorrow."
"I'll have none of that. You're home, and you're staying, and that's all there is to it. We'll have a proper breakfast in the morning like when you were young. We have to feed our guests."
"Ma I can't let Marcus down. It's my job."
"You will explain to him a mother's need for her daughter, and if he fails to understand that, I'll explain it to him myself."
"And that'll put the fear of the dead into him," Nathan said softly from the back of the room. "He'll quit his commission on the spot just to never hear from you again."
Agnes turned and gave Nathan the exact same look that Chelsea had given Mal earlier. The twins snorted in laughter as Nathan turned immediately and scurried up the stairs. He was practically sprinting.
"Good night Mal and Umaryn. Chelsea, you'll see to their tea and bedding."
All Chelsea could do was nod in agreement as Agnes smiled at her daughter and guests. After her mother left, a deflated Chelsea went about the business her mother assigned to her.
For the first time in a very long time, Mal and Umaryn felt like they were home.
The twins awoke to the rich smoky smell of sizzling bacon. Mal was the first to sit up from the floor, his back aching from the stiff surface. He could hear Chelsea speaking to her mother in the kitchen.
"There's some darkness in their family ma. They need to see some of the older church records, but they're ashamed to petition to church directly, especially with all the attention that's come their way of late."
"I wish you'd said they were the survivors from New Picknell Chel. And what are they ashamed of anyway?"
"Their mother was an Apostle in their village, and they think she was ostracized from the Church proper before they were born. Some people have treated them poorly since they arrived here in Daris, and they'd like to find out if there are records of what happened."
"So they want to sneak into the archives off the record?"
Chelsea laughed quietly, trying not to wake the twins. "Well that's the deceptive way to say it, yes. They've got a lot at stake ma. I'd appreciate it if you could help them."
Mal waited patiently, sitting still as Agnes stirred the cooking bacon in the skillet and thought. Finally she replied to her daughter. "I'll help them, of course. They seem like good people. Plus the boy likes you."
"Is it that obvious?" Chelsea asked.
"Isn't it always when a boy likes a girl?"
Mal slowly rested back on the hard floor and smiled. He felt like the world suddenly slid a bit further into place.
For an older woman Agnes wasted no time walking slowly. She hustled. One foot slid out in front of the other with a haste that left the twins nearly breathless, despite their younger age and condition. Umaryn was moving along at a normal pace, absent of the previous night's injuries. Agnes knew what she wanted to do. Agnes had purpose.
They were walking into the grounds of the Cathedral of Saint Kincaid in the center of Daris, where the Church of Varrland was centralized, and where the archives were. Mal had a good idea where the archives were located, so when they took an abrupt turn and headed towards one of the outer temples of the sprawling holy estate, he was surprised.
"Where are we going?" He asked.
"To a side entrance," Agnes replied. They were close enough to the body of Saint Kincaid that her answer had to be honest. That fact made Mal feel better.
The twins wore plain white robes with hoods, a manner of garb not uncommon to those who were studying to join the ranks of the Apostles. Agnes wore her much finer robes that had a faint cream tint. Her robes looked like the color of dust to Mal.
The outer temple building had a small door in its rear that required a large key of Agnes' to open. She turned the large metal key and with a mechanical clunk the door unlocked. She pulled it open and motioned for the twins to enter the dark hall. On the wall was a rack of small ornamental torches, ringed in silver with a small oil wick at the top. Mal grabbed a small bit of flint and steel and struck a spark to light the torches as Agnes locked the door behind them.
"We'll be heading down the spiral stairs here until we reach the catacombs. I'll take the lead from there and show you to the chambers where you'll find records that might help you."
"Catacombs?" Umaryn asked.
"Ancient tunnels and chambers carved out of the central mount of the city, and below the cathedral. We tell few of them at all, and we tell no one how deep they go," Agnes said as they started down the narrow and steep stone stairs. The space smelled of fungus, mildew and earth. Several minutes and several hundred damp, cold stone steps later, Mal spoke.
"Why does the Church keep so many secrets?" Mal asked. "I always believed the Church would be open about everything."
"Why do you?" Agnes asked in return.
Mal opened his mouth with an answer in mind and on his tongue, but entirely different words came out instead, "Because we're afraid people will want us dead if they know the truth." Mal cursed under his breath. He'd forgotten that the body of Saint Kincaid prevented falsehoods. It was as if the Saint had taken control of his body for a moment from beyond the grave.
"Isn't that the truth? You tried to lie to me Mal. It's hard to build trust when one of us lies to the other. Tell me true now. Why do you need the archives? You've wrapped my daughter up into this, and I'll have the truth if you want more of my help."
The twins stopped and looked at one another, unsure of how to continue. So long as they were on cathedral grounds, they couldn't lie. The words would fail to form, and inevitably, they would somehow tell the truth. If they were clever, they might be able to say some form of the truth that in fact, said nothing at all.
"I owe her a bit of my life brother. Least I can do for that is speak the truth," Umaryn said as an apology before continuing. "We survived New Picknell and headed into Graben to get revenge on the Empire forces that killed our family and destroyed our village. When we killed the necromancer we knew to be responsible, he told us he had been paid by an Apostle here in Daris to murder our parents. Since our arrival here, we've been attacked by Ancestor Spirits, just last night in fact, and we're certain now the necromancer told the truth. We need to access the archives because someone in this church wanted our family dead, and now they want us dead. We need to find the connection our mother and father had to the church. We are hoping it will lead us to who had them killed."
Agnes took it all in silently, and then motioned for them to continue walking down the steps. Eventually the spiral stairs opened up into a low ceilinged stone room. Evenly spaced stone pillars connected by powerful looking ceiling arches kept the massive weight of the earth above suspended. The wide room was filled with racks of books and scrolls. A central walkway led to an iron gate and another room the same beyond. They began to walk down the way towards the iron gate.
"The Church keeps secrets because sometimes the common folk can't handle the simple truth. Sadly, we are a herd prone to overreaction, paranoia and fear. To keep the masses from rioting and worrying about things they can't change, we choose to keep some of the history of the world to ourselves. We are aware of the dangers from our past, and we serve as the stewards of that knowledge. We bear these burdens so that the world can continue to rebuild itself."
"Rebuild itself from what?" Umaryn asked innocently.
/> "From the Great Plague my dear. As we all know, the Plague came and ruined all that Elmoryn was. You can see the echoes of the greatness we had once achieved all over the world. The trains the Artificers maintain, but struggle to build new once more. If you venture deep enough you can see the giant iron skeletons of ancient buildings deep in the Plague Dunes to the southwest. Ten, twenty stories tall according to those have seen them and returned. We know our ancestors from before the plague achieved incredible things, but in the wake of the sickness, we know that so very many died, and so very much was forgotten. We are not a world innovating, we are a world remembering."
"That's so sad," Umaryn said as they stopped at the gate.
Agnes produced a different key from her ring and unlocked the gate. After stepping through and relocking it, she spoke once more. "I see it as the opposite of sadness. I see it as speaking to the strength of character of the human race. We were nearly destroyed by the Great Plague, and out of that pyre we arose again. We are a very difficult fire to quench."
"I like that idea," Mal said.
Agnes turned and looked at Malwynn. "Mal you've taken a shine for my Chelsea."
"Yes," Mal said immediately. He was proud of it.
"Why?" They started walking again.
"She's strong and smart. She's beautiful and full of will. She's clever. She reminds me of the gentle nature of my mother, and the resilient spirit of my sister. I like her more than I should."
Agnes smiled warmly, "Good answer. Do you love her?"
Mal had to think about it, "I think so. But it's still very early. I'd like to love her."
Umaryn looked on with a mix of pride and disbelief. She wasn't quite sure what to make of her brother's confession.
"You'll see to it no harm will come to her?" Agnes asked.
The Motive for Massacre (The Kinless Trilogy Book 2) Page 7
