The Dread Lords Rising

by J. David Phillips

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Bad Place

  The road leading to the estate lay in perpetual darkness, flanked on both sides by large oaks so old that they resembled deformed bodies frozen in the rictus of sudden and painful seizures, giving off the impression of a lingering and age-old anger. Ancient limbs grown fat over time could have supported boulders in the broken crooks of their elbows, which were stretched outward like the hands of a drowning man reaching for a shore he would never make. Long bearded trains of moss hung in a mass of frozen tears from thick limbs, and darkness clung to the ancient trunks keeping everything beneath them in perpetual gloom.

  To Davin it looked as if some urge terrible enough to drive the oaks from their forest home had left them clinging to the road with thick, muscular roots grasping at the hard earth to choke life from the rock. The road itself was bare earth, worn brick-hard by the impress of wagon and carriage wheels. Here and there, rocks poked through like bones disinterred from a grave. Even in small things such as these an air of frustration and agony that lay about the estate.

  At least nothing was stalking them or trying to kill them. Yet the morning was young, and Davin felt skittish because he did not know what else might be waiting for them. His eyes followed the road as it emerged from the dismal protection of the twisted oaks and wound its way around a large hill dominating the center of the grounds. Atop the hill, Kreeth’s manor sat like a fat, old head. It’s exterior was composed of stone—an indeterminate pale color that looked as if it had been torn from the bowls of the earth and arrived upon the surface pallid and dead as any stone cold corpse. Darker striations and ruddy veins within the blocks made it appear as if the stone wept or bled. Unlike the Sartor manor, which consisted of three main wings radiating in the shape of a T, the old manse before them was of one long rectangular shape. Imposing teeth-like columns rose from ground to roof, and beyond them a set of iron banded double doors were flanked by stained glass windows that continued up unblinkingly twenty feet or more. The manor’s visage held its maw open to eat up any who entered the residence.

  “That is . . .” Niam began, obviously searching for the right words, but his voice trailed off.

  “Hideous,” Maerillus finished for him.

  “I’ve spent all of my life here, but never seen this with my own eyes before,” Davin said, suppressing a shudder.

  “Believe it or not, Dad said that when it was first built, the place was beautiful, but that it fell into disrepair with each successive owner.”

  “Well, there’s nothing between us and it except grass. I wish there were some hedges or gardens to conceal our approach,” muttered.

  “I’m sure there were at one time,” Maerillus remarked. “Good thing we’re going to approach it from the side.”

  “If I were a man like Kreeth I’d want to see anyone coming well before they got anywhere near me,” Davin told him. “But if we’re lucky, we’ll use his paranoia against him.” Since he obsessively kept a small staff, there would be fewer eyes to see them. The fact that he was gone helped.

  Niam looked as if he hadn’t slept in a week, and his hands twitched. “What are you feeling?” Davin asked.

  “About half a foot shorter than you,” he deadpanned.

  “You know what he means,” Maerillus said impatiently.

  Niam turned to Maerillus, and for a moment Maerillus looked taken aback. Davin understood why. It was the haunted look Niam sometimes wore only multiplied. Right then, Niam seemed to be able to look through a person and see the shadowy soul behind their skin. “You don’t want to ever know how I feel right now,” Niam said. “Not ever.”

  Davin cleared his throat to get their attention. Their window of opportunity to get into the manor wasn’t going to remain open for long.

  “Let’s get ready to run.”

  As they ran, the sensation of doom Davin felt immediately increased. Every doubt he had about this became amplified. You’ll trip again, right at the moment when you’re needed the most, a voice that was and wasn’t part of him slid through his mind. You are bothering an innocent man? Another voice chided. You’ll get them killed you know—all of your friends. The voices—so very different from the Voice that had come to him not very long ago—tried to wheedle into his mind. Davin felt naked and exposed out in the open, yet he pressed forward. As he drew closer to the house he forced himself to ignore the thoughts and impulses flying though his head. At last, they arrived at the manor.

  He stopped as Niam and Maerillus’s footsteps pounded up next to him. See, an eel-like thought crossed from the darkest corner of his mind, Someone inside has heard you now. You’ve done it boy! They’re onto you! Davin looked around wildly to see if anyone had come to look out of a window. “You’ve got to push them out of your mind,” Niam said urgently. “Both of you. I know you can hear them. Push back.” Davin looked at Niam. Maerillus stood with his eyes squeezed tightly shut. He shook his head as if he couldn’t.

  “Do it!” Niam hissed. “DO IT,” he demanded.

  “I don’t know if I can,” Davin heard himself say, shocked at the puny and timid voice coming from his mouth.

  Turn around . . . run back . . . wait for Jolan Kine . . .

  Niam’s hands closed tightly around Davin’s arm. “Find a way!” he said with an intensity that startled him. “Find a way or he wins!” Though Niam barely spoke above a whisper, he might as well have screamed. “Do it,” Niam demanded again. “Do it now.” As he spoke, something happened that Davin could not explain or put into words. He felt something, almost like a wave, pass out of Niam and pass over him, weakening the effect of the spell Kreeth had cast over the surrounding land. Without giving himself time to think—time to allow the voices another foothold into his head—he sought the well of power that ran like a nameless and timeless sea within himself and drew from it. Only a trickle, but a trickle was all he needed.

  Immediately, Davin experienced a sudden loosening sensation accompanied by the release of an indefinable pressure, and urges were completely gone. Inside, Davin shook, but he was alone with his own thoughts. His feelings were his own, and he passed a look of gratitude to Niam. Beside them, Maerillus still struggled. “Use your ability,” Davin said quickly. “Become invisible,” he said.

  “But the voices don’t see,” Maerillus whined. “And they know what a failure I am.”

  “Be invisible to the things in your mind,” Davin urged. “Niam’s right. You can do it.”

  For a few moments, Davin feared Maerillus wouldn’t be able to shake Kreeth’s sorcery. Then, bit-by-bit, his face began to lose its tension. A few moments more, he wiped sweat from his brow, and said weakly, “It’s done.”

  “How did you figure out that we could beat the effects of this horrible place?” Maerillus’s voice held a mixture of wariness and respect.

  Niam shrugged his shoulders as if it had been no big deal, but the haggard lines etched across his face belied his true feelings. “Just getting a feel for how Kreeth’s worked his sorcery, I guess,” he said.

  Davin noticed how Niam shifted his feet uncomfortably. Even a passing association with sorcery was enough to get someone hanged or beheaded in some countries. In darker times people feared finding the mark of a sorcerer—a poisonous nightflower—hanging from their door. Such a thing was nearly as bad as being accused of murder.

  “I guess I should go ahead and get this done,” Maerillus said, wiping his hands nervously.

  “Be careful,” Davin told him. “Look around,” he reminded him. “If you can get us in through this window, that would be great. If not—”

  “—I’ll come open a window where we can get in and come back and get you.”

  Davin nodded his head. Before Maerillus walked off, Niam stopped him.
r />   “There are worse things than men in there.”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice,” Maerillus said, and then was gone. His shape faded and folded away as he walked off to sneak in through the servants’ door around back.

  While they waited, Niam’s eyes grew distant. Davin knew that expression. Niam was trying to piece something together before he spoke about it. Every second that passed in silence made Davin feel twitchier by the moment. “There’s more here than Kreeth,” Niam said slowly, as if unsure of himself.

  “More what than Kreeth? More people? More sorcerers?” He felt his fingers reflexively move down to his short sword as the words fell from his lips.

  Niam looked confused. “I don’t know.”

  Davin nodded and bit his lip. Aside from the timing, everything hinged on Maer’s ability to get them inside. Minutes seemed to drag by. Niam continued staring off into the distance with an inward gaze that made Davin wonder nervously exactly what it was that held Niam’s attention.

  Davin jumped and quickly drew his sword as the window above them jerked open. Maerillus stuck his head out of the opening. “Niam’s not going to like this place,” he grimly announced. The tone in his voice told Davin that they would all find the feeling mutual.

  Davin resheathed his sword and quickly hoisted Niam through the open window. Before Maerillus had time to hold his arm out, Davin leapt up and grabbed hold of the window ledge. An easy swing brought his left leg up, and he pulled himself through.

  “Show off,” Maerillus grumbled as Davin looked around. The room they found themselves in looked as if it had not been used in a very long time. Beneath filthy dust cloths, chairs and a large wooden table hunkered like bodies covered in shrouds, bodies that only appeared dead, waiting for the moment when they would be wakened again. Wainscoting covered the walls, and paintings of unknown men hung as if their portraited occupants had been imprisoned there to perish and fade over the long stretch of years.

  From the ceiling a large chandelier hung like a huge spider with tarnished brass tines holding candles cracked by desuetude and dry age. A mass of webs covered the candle holders as if the chandelier had grown merely dormant, slumbering yet hungry, waiting for prey to fall into its web—there to cling, helplessly mouthing vain prayers while it perished, begging for help that would never come while the lips that prayed them died in a dying room.

  Davin quickly spun around, startled by the sounds of a woman and a child sobbing uncontrollably. Nothing except dust stirred in the room.

  “Where is that coming from?” he asked as goose bumps rose across the sensitive parts of his arms.

  “What?” Maerillus asked.

  Davin realized he alone had heard that. The source of the crying tapered off slowly, yet echoes of it lingered. “Crying. I heard crying. A woman and a child.”

  Niam gave a strained response. “See. I told you.”

  Davin turned to address Maerillus about the things he found and the first thing he noticed was that Maerillus looked really shaken up. “Did anything go wrong?” Around him the room lay quiet as a mausoleum. Davin was glad for the silence because he should easily hear anyone approaching from outside the room. Still, this brought no sense of added security to his heightened nervousness.

  Maerillus spoke darkly. “This place just isn’t right,” he said. “It’s not like the trip here. It’s something else.” Davin nodded his head, for Niam had said the same thing.

  “No one saw me. The morning staff is finishing their breakfast. You should hear them talking. They hate working here.” Maerillus’s voice dropped almost to a warning growl. “Guys, I saw things when I walked through the halls. Images.”

  Niam made an inarticulate noise. Maerillus gave him a wary glance but went on. “Someone’s upstairs. I heard the servants complaining about him. They’re terrified of him. And when I got close to the stairs leading to the second floor, whoever it is started screaming not to bother him. He had no way of knowing I was there. But he did.”

  “It’s called warding,” Niam said, and when both of them looked at him, he yelped silently and stammered, “I don’t know where that came from . . . it just popped out.”

  “Well, at least that warding didn’t include one of Kreeth’s changed animals or heavily armed men,” Davin said.

  He couldn’t help notice the sidewise glance Maerillus cast Niam as he spoke up about his knowledge of sorcery.

  “There’s also something I . . . um . . . think Niam ought to see,” Maerillus said. “There’s a secret door in a large closet filled with broken furniture. Thing’s concealed to look like part of the paneling. But we’ve got doors like that at home.”

  Davin knew exactly what Maerillus was talking about. During social and business gatherings, those hidden rooms were where the staff kept extra supplies. Smart, really.

  “I bet it wasn’t wine you saw when you opened it up,” Niam said as if he already knew the punch line to a bad joke.

  “No. It was a short hallway. At the end of it, there was a stairway. I didn’t go down it, but I saw what it led to. A door. And all across it there were these writings and symbols. I—I didn’t like the way I felt looking at them.”

  Beside them, Niam looked as if he were standing in a bed of hot coals. “Guys, I think we should get moving. I hate this place.” Davin agreed and motioned them to the door Maerillus had left propped open. Davin put his ear to the crack. From the other side there was only silence. He turned back to tell Maerillus that he ought to go first in case a servant came along. Instead he stopped and gapped.

  Maerillus and Niam both caught the expression on his face and spun around. Davin wouldn’t have noticed the discrepancy, as small as it was in a situation like this if he hadn’t paid attention.

  “What?” Maerillus asked sourly once he realized they weren’t about to be attacked by something taloned, fanged, and stinky.

  “The pictures have been moved,” Davin said, a little unnerved.

  “Huh?” Was all Maerillus managed.

  “The pictures are in different places than they were when we came in.” He didn’t care whether either of them believed him.

  “I’m . . . are you sure?” Maerillus asked.

  “Absolutely,” Davin said firmly.

  “We’re not alone,” Niam said knowingly.

  “You’re about to be alone,” Maerillus shot back.

  Davin eyed the paintings fearfully. The back of his neck prickled as if he expected something else to move.

  “This house doesn’t want us inside of it,” Niam said with such certainty that Davin couldn’t help but believe the warning.

  “Let’s get to that hallway and see what’s on the other side,” Davin said. “The staff will be coming in soon.” He didn’t need to tell Maerillus to go first. His friend took his place in front of them and moved quietly through the door. Davin followed. Beyond the door, the state of the house changed. This was the manor’s entrance. The entry chamber was a large foyer. To their right, a large, sweeping stairway curled around the room as it rose elegantly to an open landing above. Large stained glass windows dominated the left side of the room, and the rising sun’s light seemed to cut itself and bleed across the smoothly polished floor. Urns centuries old occupied the corners, and armored suits polished to a mirrored sheen stood on display pedestals where they loomed over anyone in the room. Across from them two open doors revealed a reception room and a study.

  Though the foyer was an improvement over the dining room, the dramatic change only heightened his sense of unease. Before making it to the hallway, Davin looked back to check on Niam and cursed. Instead of following them, Niam was slowly walking toward the stairs. On his face, an unreadable, vacant expression told Davin that
Niam might as well have been in the middle of a field of petunias rather than where he was. He moved with careful steps. His head was upraised, and his mouth was moving.

  Maerillus almost blurted out, “Is he talking to himself? He’s going to trip that ward!”

  Davin rushed forward to pull him away. Before he got to him, his eyes widened and he nearly exclaimed aloud. A man, not quite in his late thirties, hung from a rope attached to the balustrade overhead. His head and neck were stretched obscenely, and his face, mottled and black, was frozen in a rictus of fear and desperation. Davin blinked.

  And it was gone.

  Davin lunged the rest of the way, grabbing Niam’s sleeve. His short friend batted at Davin’s hand, trying to unlock his fingers from around the clump of fabric in his fist. “Let me go,” Niam said feebly. From above, a man suddenly began screaming obscenities. Davin hauled Niam toward where Maerillus waited.

  Upstairs, a shrill voice screamed out venomously, “GET OUT OR I’ll HAVE YOU BOILED ALIVE!!! I’LL FLAY YOU WHILE YOU BEG FOR MERCY!!!!”

  Maerillus croaked, “In here! Hurry!”

  Davin struggled with Niam through the hallway door and into a broom closet just as they heard alarmed servants running from the other end of the manor. Maerillus closed the door just in time. People rushed by, with one man declaring angrily, “ . . . better not have disturbed the master’s guest or you won’t have to worry about him boiling you alive. I’ll do it myself.”

  “But we didn’t,” one of the servants complained as they went trough the doorway. “See. Ain’t nobody here.”

  Silence followed while the front rooms were searched. Davin prayed they had left no signs of their entry in the old dining room. Shortly, he heard the angry man return through the doorway brusquely spitting out orders, “Get your work done and stay out of the front or you’ll answer to Kreeth himself.” Another servant gave an indistinguishable answer although the simpering tone in his voice was unmistakable.

  Maerillus pushed Niam against a wall, whispering hoarsely, “What did you think you were doing? I told you about the stairs.”

  “I saw someone I know,” he said. The far-off look still remained in his eyes. He said almost dreamily, “I saw my sister.”

  Davin flashed Maerillus a concerned look. “Niam. It’s this place. It’s getting to you. Snap out of it.” He shook his smaller friend urgently. Niam shook his head as if he had been sleeping and didn’t want to wake up.

  Maerillus had less patience. “We’ve got to get moving or we’re done for here!” he snapped smartly.

  Niam looked up with eyes that had grown watery. “I saw her Maer. She was trying to tell me something. I saw her. I saw them all. The hanging man. A bloody woman and her son. They’re still here. And they want to be left alone.” Tears welled at the bottom of his eyes. “Except my sister,” he whispered pitifully. “She wanted to talk to me.”

  “Davin’s right,” Maerillus said tersely. “It’s just the house. You of all people ought to see that.”

  More awake now, Niam shook his head vehemently and spoke through clenched teeth. “It’s more than that. More, Maerillus.”

  “Is it anything that’s going to stop us or hurt us?” Davin asked, trying to get refocused.

  Niam’s eyes bored right into his own, steady and lucid for the moment. His voice was flat, cold, and certain. “There are lots of things here that want to hurt us.”

  Outside in the foyer, the bustle of servants quickly cleaning began to slow. They waited in silence until the staff eventually moved on to other rooms on the first floor. “Take us to the secret hallway,” Davin said to Maerillus.

  Maerillus slipped through the door to make sure the coast was clear. When he stuck his head back in, he motioned quickly. “Hurry.”

  Davin and Niam followed along. Davin felt even more exposed in the hallways of the old manse than he had sprinting across the large lawn earlier this morning. Maerillus turned left, and then left again down a narrower hall. Then he gingerly opened what appeared to be a door to a large closet.

  They stepped though into a room filled with broken old chairs, chests missing drawers, and legless tables stacked against the wall. At the back of the room, one bare wall stood curiously empty of shelves and clutter.

  “This is just like the walls at home,” Maerillus told them. He walked over to it and pushed down on a paneled edge. The wall swung back, revealing a short flight of steps. “I was suspicious the moment I saw this. If you’ll notice, no other walls in this room are paneled.”

  Niam flinched as if someone had just thrown cold water on him. He backed away until his back met the closed door behind him. He was having such a terrible time that Davin wondered fleetingly how the staff lived here with the effects of Kreeth’s sorcery. Davin eyed Niam for a moment, and decided to keep him up there. “Stay back there while I go down and look,” he told Maerillus.

  As Davin cautiously moved down the steps, he took a good look at the door. Strange writing covered the thing, forming a crookedly flowing script he had never seen, and the surface bore no knob or latch. Its opening seemed a simple matter of just applying pressure to push it open. Strange that Kreeth would leave a door as important as this so unprotected.

  Davin reached out to give the door a tentative push. “No!” Niam shouted. “Get away from it—that thing will kill you!” Davin felt the brief contact of someone’s hand connecting with his shoulder, then fingers dug into him and he was literally jerked back so hard that he went sprawling across the floor, striking his head against the bottom step.

  In the hallway, alarmed voices cried out. “What was that?!”

  Feet quickly began moving toward the room above them.

  Niam stood in front of the door, blocking it with his body. Davin realized he must have followed him down.

  “Now you’ve done it!” Maerillus spat.

  “I can do this,” Niam said with intense concentration.

  “Well you better hurry!”

  Niam moved his hands around the door, tracing the lines of script. His hands paused over the symbol in the door’s center. He closed his eyes for a moment, then shook his head. “Not this one,” he muttered, moving his hand down to a symbol in the lower right corner, and let out a strained sigh. “This is the one.”

  Davin watched as Niam turned around and looked at him. There was a frighteningly elated smile on his lips, but it did not reach all the way to his eyes, which had become bloodshot. “This was really clever. It would have kept you here until he released you, or it would have killed you.”

  Davin stood. His head pounded. “Can you get it open?” he insisted.

  Niam nooded his head. The servants were now standing just outside of the room above. Niam simply stood in front of the door. He closed his eyes, and Davin watched his muscles tense. Niam’s fists clenched so tightly that the tendons on his wrist stood out like cords. White-knuckled fingers dug into his flesh. Something dropped absently from Niam’s balled hands and struck the floor. Davin’s eyes followed it to where glistening drops of Niam’s blood spattered the rough floor below.