The moment dragged on even as the thing was closing in incredibly fast. Henric stared in disbelief, arm extended toward the raven-haired singer who held his sword. In the quiet of the twilight, it was almost as if the whole word had gone quiet in time to hear a lord beg, “Please.”
But the look in her eyes said that she would not.
A fresh wave of nausea hit him as the heavy Scent of the rotting, shambling corpse overwhelmed him. Without his sword he was defenseless. He hadn’t had nearly enough time to practice the Bindings. A thin line of radiant purple wound around the abomination’s neck but it was too late and the monster too strong. His binding broke apart in a thin whisp of violet smoke. Even if he could manage to seal the loop, the undead abomination was too close, it would kill him before he could speak the binding.
In a flash of glinting moonlight, DuErden stepped in front of Henric and slashed out with his blade. The raising backhanded cut stuck in the dead man’s ribs, letting it wrap around the sword, gnashing and clawing for the knight. Henric felt as though he should have recognized the corpse, but he couldn’t have said from where.
“Kerra!” Niles shouted, voice like a whip. “Unless you’ve been taking lessons, give him the sword!”
Unable to fully set aside her problem with him even when ordered, the woman shoved Henric’s sword forcefully into his chest. He felt an immediate wave of relief as his hand wrapped around its hilt, drawing it from its scabbard. Now, at least, he could fight.
Beside him, Niles had shoved the thing back, kicking it off his sword and sending it stumbling back several feet, thick black blood dripping out from the wound like a sludge that matted down the grass along the riverbank.
Henric could hardly stand the Scent of it, but still he rushed in to cut at the monster’s leg. He chopped his sword’s edge into the dead man’s knee, feeling the sharp steel sink into the flesh and slip into the gap between the bones. His blade, too, got stuck in a twist of the bone, and Henric was forced to rip it out, the joint only half severed.
Unfortunately the two tugs it took was enough time for the dead thing to bring its head around and gnash into the arm of Henric’s padded shirt. It clawed at him with its one good arm, and thrashed the dislocated, limp arm at him as if it didn’t know the limb was dislocated.
“Boy,” it hissed, its voice little more than a whisper on the wind.
There was a sickening slick sound as Niles drove his sword into the corpse’s guts, using it as a handle to rip the monster off of Henric.
“Aren’t you an Aldrimar?” Niles roared as he shoved the monster back and freed his blade. He fought like Zak did. “This thing is dead. Kill it!”
“It’s not that simple,” Henric said as he closed the gap with the monster in step with Niles. The knight held his sword in a piercing pose and Henric followed suit. “I’ve never actually fought a dead thing before.”
“No better time to start,” Niles grunted as he thrust the point of his sword into the dead man’s ribs, skewering him. Henric did the same. “Otherwise we’re just as dead as he is.”
The corpse wheezed as it tried and failed to push air through the thrice punctured lungs, thrashing at Henric despite the knight who was cutting apart its stolen body. Where had it even found a corpse it could wear? House Aldrimar worked closely with their priests to ensure every soul within their domains bore a Mark by their first birthday. There were merchants, travelers, mercenaries and thieves, he supposed. Even assassins.
The assassin! They had never found the strange Easterner’s body after Henric had knocked him from the tower. It had been assumed to be stuck somewhere in the current or swept out to sea by now. But he knew now what had happened. He had been right all along. The degreth, the Dead thing that had attacked during his Initiation all those weeks ago had crossed into Life.
That should have terrified him, yet it felt like a fire had been lit inside him. Despite every voice around him saying otherwise, Henric’s own instincts had been right. He had spent the past weeks questioning himself, thinking the strain of so much new responsibility was breaking him. Maybe it still was. Fear had left him, and in its place a righteous anger, vindication. Before him was the solution to all his problems.
He just had to take hold of it.
Drawing a line of violet light around the dead assassin’s neck, Henric poured in the heat from the bonfire inside him. The band was sealed with licks of violet flame that made the degreth screech from inside the man’s skin, its one intact hand clawing at its neck even as its fingers burnt, adding another unpleasant layer to the evening’s aroma.
“Whoa!” Niles said, eyes wide and fixated on the flaming ring of light. So he could see it too? The woman, Kerra, must have been able to as well, as he heard her hiss a word behind them.
Henric didn’t have time to worry about whatever her problem was. Trying to hold the binding in his mind felt like trying to pin down a raging bear. He imagined.
“Rhezara ahmen thar!” he shouted, each syllable searing his lungs like hot smoke.
The creature inside the dead man shrieked, the body falling limp to the ground. Henric hadn’t expected it to give up the fight so easily, but he was grateful for it. His breaths were heavy, his head light, and he was sure he was seeing two sets of stars. Something tugged at his feet, urging him toward the spirit he had bound. The Scent of it was so strong he could practically see the deep purple fog of it around this wretched thing. Part of him wanted to taste it, to draw in this monster’s power and command it for himself.
A hand clasped upon his wrist just as it reached for the loop around the monster’s neck. Henric snapped it back, crying out as searing pain rushed up his arm from Kerra’s hand glowing with pure white light. Did this woman know the Miracles?
“Elrima,” she hissed, eyes narrow with rage. “I will not let you feed. Niles, kill him now!”
“Unhand me!” Henric’s order sounded more like a plea. “You don’t understand-”
On the ground, the corpse began to let out a rhythmic grunting sound that Henric only realized was a laugh when he saw how thin the binding around the degreth’s neck had become, distracted by Kerra’s intercession. Henric felt the loop of light snap the instant before the corpse launched itself in a three-limbed gait into the night.
The stranger let go of his hand, the burning pain subsiding, and leaving nothing more than a print on his wrist that was already beginning to fade. She watched the thing go, her face long and eyes wide in horror at what she’d done.
“I-” she started, but couldn’t seem to know what word she meant to say next.
A strong arm slipped behind his back and under his shoulder.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“On your feet,” Niles grunted as he lifted Henric. Though he was addressing Henric, his eyes were hard and fixed on his companion. “We still have a monster to kill.”
“Yeah,” Henric agreed, wondering where the thing was going.
***
Megan regretted her decision the instant her feet splashed into the cold flowing water and the stink of sewage hit her. It was too late though, as Alizia and Adelin had already started down stream.
"C''mon Megan," said Adelin. "We can''t just stay by the entrance, they''ll find us."
"But I can''t see," Megan said.
"We have a lightstone," said Alizia. "I just don''t want to light it until we''re further in."
And so they walked. It seemed like half an hour passed before the older Aldrimar girl pulled the lightstone from her pack and spoke the word to light it. The water was well above her ankles now, and soaking into her skirt.
Their tunnel was cramped and low, and in the light they could see moss and mildew clinging to the walls. Next the book came out, and Megan opened it to the page, almost a third of the way in, where Zakaran Aldrimar had written the words that would lead them into Death.
"Muzum ala thebeth," they said, again and again until it became a chant. But nothing happened. Megan didn''t feel anything changing, the water still flowed, cold against her feet. Then she heard a plunk, and Megan opened her eyes.
The lightstone had slipped from Alizia''s hand and was being swept away by the current. In the quickly darkening tunnel, Megan realized that neither of her friends were awake. She shook them, calling out "Alizia, Adelin!“ but nothing stirred them.
And in less than a moment, the lightstone was swept beyond some unseen corner ahead, and Megan was left in total darkness, her friends unconscious, and the dawning realization that this had been a huge mistake.
***
Nothing had gone right for Kerra since coming to Zaksburg. Even the ancient stories, told to her at mother’s breast and father’s knee by fire and star, were failing her. All across Dvor the people had forgotten the ancient ways and the ancient tongue, but they still remembered how to Mark themselves and to treat their dead to protect themselves from elrima. The Lords of Dvor had made a Compact to protect against the very fiends that ruled here.
And Niles didn’t seem to be batting an eye. If anything, he seemed to expect this when he should have been appalled. Niles DuErden was not a man who knowingly chose the side of evil. That fact alone, stayed her hand and her tongue as she followed two steps behind her friend and the boy, Henric.
Kerra grew more anxious with every agonizingly familiar step, retreading the very path she and Niles and just taken fleeing from the city only hours before. Each drop of tar-black blood along the way renewing her shame at letting this monster escape. Once again trusting her instincts had set her back.
They walked in the shadow of Zaksburg’s hill stretching all the way to the far shore of the river in the moonlight. She knew where they were going even before they came to the tunnel opening, a slow stream of water trickling out across the silty shore into the river.
“In here,” the boy, Henric, said. “I can smell it.”
Kerra resisted the urge to curse at him. Elrima were predators who fed upon Death, one should not be so brazen about its inhuman abilities. But at the same time, she couldn’t deny the sense of unease, of dark power that emanated from the tunnel, twisting her stomach with more pain that she’d ever felt before.
She bent and heaved into the sand, turning away from Niles and the necromancer.
“Kerra?” Niles asked, the edge on his words the past half hour dulled with concern.
She waved her arm at him as she heaved again. “I’m fine!”
Niles stepped over and crouched carefully beside her. The look on his face said “I’m mad, but I still care about you.” It was one they’d kept passing back and forth over the years.
“Maybe you should stay here?” Niles suggested.
Behind him, Henric nodded. “Good idea. Call for help. My uncle. Someone needs to know where we are.”
Kerra shot the arrogant boy a glare but Niles nodded.
“Good thinking,” he said as he stood. “We’ll get the monster, you get help.”
Niles had that cocky smirk again, but she knew it was for her benefit, the concern behind his eyes too real. He finally had a monster to fight and she knew it terrified him. But he was Niles DuEdren.
Kerra nodded and said, “I will.”
Niles returned her nod with a salute, and he and the necromancer turned to crouch into the open tunnel. She heard a thud and a string of curses from her friend, followed by a word she hadn’t expected.
Light erupted in Henric’s hand as he spoke the word “Ahye”, casting himself and Niles in silhouette against the darkness of the tunnel. Kerra was shocked at first until she remembered the priests in this region sometimes carved a Word into something and called it a Miracle. She watched the blackness swallow them even despite Aldrimar’s light, leaving her alone in the cool spring night.
It didn’t take long for her shouting to draw attention, first from a nearby fisherman, and then from one of Zaksburg’s black and crimson-clad watchmen.
“What is the meaning of all this shouting?” the watchman said as he strolled up as though she were some vendor in a market. Despite having been shouting for twenty minutes her situation apparently didn’t call for much urgency.
“Your duke is in trouble!” Kerra said. She hadn’t, until this moment, realized how ridiculous this might sound. “He and Niles DuErden chased a murderer into this tunnel and need backup from the city watch.”
The guard gave her a skeptical look. “The duke and DuErden, eh? Now that’d be a sight to see. But I assure you miss, the duke is safe and snug up in his castle where he’s supposed to be.”
Kerra felt her face pucker at the man’s ignorance.
“You should check on that,” she challenged. She held up a hand flat to her chin. “Because I just saw him. About yea high, sandy blonde hair, green eyes? A bruise-colored Mark on the back of his hand?”
That raised the idiot’s eyebrow.
“We’ll see,” the guard said. “I’ll be right back.”
“Every moment you waste puts your duke even more at risk,” she urged.
The man gave her a thin smile and a curt nod and said, “Then I’d better hurry.”
He strolled away along the river, whistling a casual tune before coming to a set of stairs and climbing up to Zaksburg’s wall where Kerra now noticed several other watchmen were waiting. The whole lot of them returned to her faster than she would have believed. Among them was a tall man with sandy blonde hair and a long black cloak.
“You saw my nephew?” the man asked her without introduction, but she had enough to pick out that his was the Aldrimar lordling who’d once been Niles’ squire. Even their name was sacreligious.
“DuErden is with him, in the tunnels,” she answered. Aldrimar grinned at the name.
“The Gods Above for that,” he said. “What about my nieces? Where are they?”
Kerra narrowed her eyebrows at him then shook her head.
“I saw only Henric,” she said. “But Aldrimar you must know something. The murderer they chase is already dead.”
His eyes went wide as he made sense of her words.
“You’re sure?” Aldrimar asked.
“I saw it with my own eyes.”
Aldrimar swore and spun, addressing the dozen or so men assembled on the beach.
“My nephew is indeed inside,” he said, his voice loud and clear. “We are need to find him. This is now our top priority.”
The guards exchanged nervous glances.
“What about the girls?” one of them asked.
Aldrimar’s face was grim. “I pray I’m wrong, but I have a feeling we’ll find them where we find the duke. Tem, bring miss Kerra here up to the castle.” Then he turned back to her. “I do hope you’ll accept our hospitality.”
She nodded and he whistled. The men formed into orderly ranks, lighting torches as they filed into the tunnels, leaving her alone with the same watchman who hadn’t believed her story.
“Wait,” the watchman said, squinting at her. “Did he say Kerra?”
She favored him with a smirk. Few knew her as a thief and smuggler, but folk all over knew Kerra the singer. It was a handy reputation that came with some privileges.
“Right this way madam!” he said, offering up an arm even as he bent low enough to kiss the silty soil. “I hope you’ll forgive my rudeness before.”
It was like he thought she was nobility. Kerra considered for a moment if there was anything left she could do here. But no, even thinking of setting foot in that tunnel threatened to upend her stomach once again. She brushed past the man with a laugh.
“I expect a good room once we reach the castle,” Kerra said in her best imitation of a princess, the man snapping up and following after her. “That will be a start.”