by David Angelo
Fin turned to the pair of traffickers and smiled. “Kemp is transmitting a vision into his mind,” he replied. “Exactly what the vision is, I’m not really sure.”
Kemp turned her head ever so slightly to address them, just enough for Fin to see her eyes. He had never seen what Kemp looked like when she was actively transmitting a vision into someone’s mind, and he found it quite unnerving. Her pupils were growing and shrinking almost by the second, as though she was constantly focusing on things that were moving toward and away from her.
“I’m making him think that Chok is castrating him,” Kemp said.
“Oh, sure,” Chok replied. “Of course you have me do all the sick things.”
Rocklier snorted. “And I wonder where she got that idea,” he replied.
Chinaw turned to Chok. “But I thought you said your brother was castrated,” he said.
“He was,” Chok said, “and that’s what killed him.”
Fin knew about this little story, but every time he heard it, he could not help but feel a little numb in the legs. He couldn’t imagine the agony Chok’s brother must have experienced during his final days, but he could clearly see what sort of legacy it had left on the then young, fragile Chok.
“I’m so sorry, Chok,” Scarlet said, approaching him. “I never knew that.”
“Yeah,” Chok said. “But I would never do it to another feller, period. That’s one thing that I would not do. No way, no how. My hands are clean.”
Black-Tooth put a finger to his lips and said, “Shhh. Quiet, you’re going to ruin the vision.”
Kemp turned to speak, but she was interrupted by Grog as he let out a bloodcurdling scream.
“I don’t think we need to worry about that anymore,” Kemp said. “He’s so deep in his vision that only I can break him out.”
“Don’t try too hard,” Rocklier said. “We can’t afford to have our weakest link lose his mind before he talks.”
“Don’t worry,” Kemp said, “he’s just about ready to confess.”
“Grog,” Togo said, “I swear on your life, if you—”
“He can’t hear you,” Kemp said, “because you’re already dead in his vision.”
“All right, I’ll tell,” Grog said. “Just…please…stop it.”
“Who bought those girls?” Fin asked.
Tears rolled down the sides of Grog’s face as he struggled to speak.
“Who bought them?” Fin asked.
“Don’t tell them anything,” Togo shouted in desperation. “Remember what he said he’ll do to us if we break the code of silence? He’ll have us strung up by our feet and skinned alive.”
“Tell us!” Fin said.
“No!”
Grog let out a wail and screamed the name at the top of his lungs.
“Rixis! It was Rixis. He ordered them.”
Fin opened his mouth to speak but paused. He remembered the name from somewhere, but he couldn’t remember when he’d last heard it spoken. Was it during one of Rocklier’s lectures, he wondered?
“Goddammit,” Togo said, the color draining from his face. “You wanted the truth, well, there you go. The truth is stranger than fiction, fellas. Now do us all a favor and slit our throats for real this time, before Rixis learns that his secret is out.”
“Oh, give me a break!” Rocklier said, whipping his katana out. “Perhaps we should kill you for thinking that we’d fall for something so ridiculous and idiotic as that.”
Kemp put up her hand. “Hold it, Rocklier,” she said. “That wasn’t a lie.”
Rocklier looked at her in disbelief. “Come on, Kemp, you know that can’t be true. There’s no feasible way. Rixis has been dead for four hundred years. He’s the one who established the Imperial Parliament of Edon, who started the first Edonion civil war and plunged our people into oppression. He’s the reason for the situation that we’re in now.”
“I know who Rixis is,” Kemp snapped. “But I also know the difference between the truth and a lie, and what this man just said is the truth.”
“Well, then,” Rocklier said, looking at Grog. “Explain to me why he’s been able to survive this long.”
“Ahem,” Togo said. “Allow me to explain. Hundreds of years ago, Rixis made a pact with the Life Eater to stay alive so he could continue to control Edon long after his ‘death.’ All the emperors who’ve come and gone over the years were actors playing a part, while it was Rixis running this show all along. My associates and I are part of a very exclusive inner circle who know about Rixis’s existence, but I guess that doesn’t matter anymore, because I bet you’ll want to get the word out as soon as possible.” Togo snorted. “You’re welcome, fellas.”
Fin had never experienced an existential crisis before, at least until the moment that Togo stopped speaking. Despite all that he had seen, despite all the conversations he had had with the Elder and all the visions she had given him, this revelation felt different from the others. Something about it felt so wrong, so unnatural. It was as though the laws of nature had been mutilated, leaving them disfigured and forever tainted by the actions of one unscrupulous individual. He looked back at his comrades and saw that they, too, appeared to be consumed by the same feeling.
But of all the members of the resistance, Rocklier appeared to be taking it the worst. Despite his attempts at hiding his fear, it took him two tries to put his katana back in its scabbard, each attempt ruined by his inability to hold his hands steady.
“Kemp,” Rocklier said, “please tell me that was a lie.”
“I’m afraid not,” Kemp said. “He’s telling the truth.”
26
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, LONG after the excitement of the morning had time to settle, Fin found himself lying on the bed inside the room that he and Scarlet shared. It was at an inn that the resistance had booked for the night, thanks to the graciousness of the Faranchie innkeeper, who allowed them to stay the night at a discount. It was one of the benefits of being part of the Children of the Dragon Storm, it seemed; Faranchie business owners were happy to help them at every turn, even if it cut into their bottom line.
It had been hours since Fin had done to the traffickers what he had done to the survivors of their attack on Darancho’s caravan; he’d branded each of the captives on the chest with his burn, then sent them back on their journey to Sebeth, naked and without their precious cargo. Scarlet and the rest of the women were in the village of Dunderland, returning the captive sisters to their family. Per Kaw-Ki’s request, the men were told to stay put until they returned.
And thus, there was nothing left to do except sit and wait until they came back.
Fin looked out the window; the roof of the inn was caked with moss and damp with rainwater. Despite the allure of free time, a rare commodity in his life, Fin could feel nothing but boredom. This small logging village that they were in could’ve been mistaken for a ghost town, given the severe lack of life on such a gloomy day. Had it not been for the innkeeper and the few Faranchies who peered out at them through the windows of their decaying homes, Fin would have thought they had made a wrong turn somewhere. Fin’s eyes were heavy as he listened to raindrops and acorns patter along the inn’s roof. But he could not sleep, because his mind was still troubled by the morning’s bombshell revelation. Rixis, the undead, living among Edon’s population for centuries. How the hell could he have kept this a secret for so long, and more importantly, why? Fin wished that they’d pressed Togo and his men for more answers before letting them go, but he guessed that even they wouldn’t have known.
Fed up at his lack of understanding, Fin rose and exited the room. He went to the room that Rocklier was sharing with Chinaw and Chok and promptly knocked on the door three times.
“Who is it?” Rocklier asked.
“It’s me,” Fin replied. “You mind if I ask you something?”
“The door’s unlocked,” Rocklier replied. “Let yourself in.”
Fin opened the door and found Rocklier sitting on the
floor, his back propped up against his bed, with a pillow tucked behind his neck for support. A circle of books, most of them open, were arranged around Rocklier on the floor, spreading out from where he sat like ripples in a pond. He looked exhausted, his bloodshot eyes peering down at a book that he was obviously struggling to comprehend.
“I miss my tent,” Rocklier said. “Yeah, it was cluttered and messy and smelled like decaying paper, but at least my mind was at ease every time I had work to do in it.” He glanced at Fin. “If I’d known I would have to do this much research, I would’ve stayed at the Fist and had someone feed me the details later.”
Fin motioned to the books on the floor. “This is about the undead, isn’t it?”
“Indeed,” Rocklier said, rubbing his eyes. “Until this morning, I thought Rixis was long gone and the undead were a myth. Now…”
“I know how you feel,” Fin said. “I haven’t been able to think of anything else all day.”
“In that case,” Rocklier said, “take a seat and chew the fat with me. We’ve got a hell of a lot to go over.”
Fin closed the door behind him and came into the room. Neither of the other two beds were occupied, but Fin could tell whose they were by the stuff that was piled next to them. Fin took a seat on what he assumed was Chok’s bed, judging by the burlap sack full of bomb-making materials piled on the mattress.
“I wish he’d keep that stuff outside,” Rocklier said, pointing to the sack. “He’s worried someone will steal it, which I guess is a legitimate fear, but I keep worrying that they’ll blow up and send me flying into the next village.”
“Where are your roommates, anyway?”
“Out back,” Rocklier said, motioning to the window at the end of the room. “testing the handguns we got from the traffickers.”
Rocklier pulled himself up onto the bed, wincing from a pain in the back of his neck. He rubbed the area where it hurt, turned his neck sharply, and made it pop. When he was done, he opened his eyes wide and tried to make himself look alive, though it wasn’t helping much.
“There’s a reason why I never taught you about the undead,” Rocklier said. “It’s something that I omit from all of my lectures, and it is a subject I have never covered in all my years of teaching, because I believed it was the stuff of fairy tales. After all, I teach history, not literature, and while I’ve read many a book about battles with undead beings, I’ve never thought myself capable of teaching such a subject. But alas, I guess I should’ve done more research before coming to the conclusion that the undead belonged in the same leagues as things that go bump in the night.” Rocklier paused and rubbed his forehead. “And now we’re all paying for it.”
Rocklier turned to Fin. “Remember how I told you that there were three Elders?”
“Yeah,” Fin said. “Let me guess, there was a fourth one?”
“If Kemp’s revelation is to be believed, then yes.”
On any normal day, Fin would’ve been floored. But today was not like most days, and now he wasn’t the least bit surprised.
“The fourth Elder’s name was Typhoon,” Rocklier continued, “also called the Life Eater. Unlike Gale and Storm, he was not created by Blizzard. Rather, Typhoon was Blizzard’s twin, born from the same seed, so to speak. As the story goes, when this world of ours was established, Blizzard was assigned the surface, while Typhoon ventured belowground to occupy an underworld of sorts. The two proceeded to create their own races of dragons, and for the most part, everything was fine.”
“Why was he called the Life Eater?” Fin asked.
“Because apparently he and his dragons survived by consuming the life force of living things. Now, according to the legends, Typhoon became greedy and sought to take more than what he and his children needed. A war broke out between the surface and the underworld, and by the time Typhoon was defeated, Gale, Storm, and Blizzard were all who were left. Typhoon was spared, but he was banished to the stars, and assuming this is true, he’s still out there, waiting to return.” Rocklier cast a glance out the window at the white sky above. “To think that every time we glanced up at the stars at night, Typhoon was staring back all this time.”
“This is all fascinating,” Fin said, “but what does any of this have to do with the undead?”
“Everything,” Rocklier said. “There exists a practice called the Rite of the Life Eater, wherein a dragon gives their soul to Typhoon in exchange for immortality. They say that the subject must first recite a dark poem that has been passed down orally over the generations. The words of the poem cannot be written down, as doing so would cause the subject to lose their mind. Reciting the poem correctly opens up a portal to the underworld, after which the subject commits suicide. If done correctly, the subject’s soul will travel to the underworld and remain there, while the body continues to live on the surface.”
Rocklier lay back on the bed and crossed his arms behind his neck. He stared upward, his eyes glued to the ceiling.
“In addition to immortality,” he continued, “Typhoon gives the subject part of his energy, much like you and the Soul of the Prophet, but on a completely other level, essentially turning them into gods, whose power and abilities cannot be matched by anyone.”
“But there’s got to be a way to kill him,” Fin said. “Why else did the Soul of the Prophet choose me if there wasn’t a way for us to take Rixis out?”
“Fuck if I know,” Rocklier said. It was one of the few times Fin had ever heard Rocklier curse. “But whatever it is, our fight for freedom just got a lot more difficult.”
Fin looked down at the many books on the floor. Among the brown and tattered pages of endless text were illustrations of a dragon, his black wings stretched out like a bat, his eyes red like droplets of blood. Fin didn’t need a caption to know the dragon’s name, because he could feel the hate and bitterness behind those eyes, and he knew that he was the target of Typhoon’s rage.
“If Rixis is so powerful,” Fin said, “if he’s literally the ‘god’ that you claim him to be, then why does he need to hide?”
“I’ve been pondering that myself,” Rocklier said. “I suppose it all has to do with Rixis wanting to maintain order. The undead are the stuff of nightmares across Edon. If everyone found out that Rixis was alive and well, and undead, there would be panic and chaos everywhere. Many of his own people, the Cullidons, would reject him.” Rocklier paused. “If the truth came out, Rixis would have no other option than to enforce martial law, just to keep some semblance of order.”
Fin got up, walked over to the window, and looked outside. Chok and Chinaw were standing just below him, cleaning the pistols they had gotten and examining them closely. He saw Chok put his eye up to the barrel of one of the guns, at which Chinaw pulled it away and looked at him incredulously.
“I’m still shocked that he was able to stay in hiding for so long,” Fin said. “Four hundred years and not a single leak?”
“I know, right?” Rocklier said. “I almost wish we’d killed the traffickers when we had the chance. I can’t imagine what kind of hell Rixis is going to put them through.”
Fin nodded and turned to Rocklier. “I need to get some fresh air, get out of this place for a bit.”
“Before you do,” Rocklier said, “grab that book by your foot, the one with the blue cover.”
Fin looked down at the book in question, which was, of course, turned to a chapter about Typhoon. It was the same one that Rocklier had been reading when he had come in. Fin closed the book and looked at the cover, where the title, Edonion Myths and Legends, was printed in gold.
“That book has more about the undead than any of these here,” Rocklier said. “I’d give it a quick read. It’s more helpful than just listening to me talk about it all afternoon.”
Fin nodded. “Thank you, Rocklier.”
“Don’t mention it,” Rocklier said, closing his eyes.
Fin left the room wordlessly and spent the rest of the day with his nose buried within the pages of Edonio
n Myths and Legends. He never did go back outside that day; now that he knew the dead walked among them, the world felt a little colder than before.
A loud crack from the fireplace startled Fin out of his slumber. For a second he thought that he was still in the lounge of the pub, whose fire was always so welcoming on a cold, damp day like today. But in an instant his mind readjusted, and he realized that he was still in the lobby of the inn, Rocklier’s book in hand. That book, now turned to the last page, lay open on his stomach, right where he’d left it when he had the bright idea to close his eyes for a second.
It was dark outside, and Fin wondered what was keeping Scarlet and the others. The rain was coming down hard, and Fin supposed that the rest of his teammates were most likely inside. Fin closed the book and sat up. He turned toward the table and leafed through a series of notes he had taken during his long read. He knew now why Rocklier had given him that book out of all the others; it was less of a collection of myths and more of an in-depth study of Edon’s literary history. And it would seem, to Fin at least, that the authors of old were obsessed with the undead, to the point that roughly half the book was dedicated to stories about them. And yet Fin was still no closer to finding out how to kill Rixis.
Fin yawned and thought about getting up and asking Rocklier if he could borrow another book, but he changed his mind. If this book didn’t have the answers he needed, nothing would.
As he sat there, Fin thought he heard a carriage stop in front of the inn, followed by footsteps coming up the porch. Just as he anticipated, the front door opened, and Scarlet walked in, bringing some of the rain inside with her. Her black oilskin cloak was dripping with water and looked like it was soaked down to her skin. Kemp’s medical bag was slung over her shoulder, its leather dark with water.
“Hey, Babe,” Fin said.
“Hi,” Scarlet said. She closed the door and peeled off her cloak. “The rain is absolutely insane.”
“I know what you mean,” Fin replied. “Where’s everyone else?”
“The girls decided to grab a few drinks when we got back. I didn’t feel like staying, so I decided to come back to the inn early.”
