The Book of Kindly Deaths

by Eldritch Black

  Tom smiled. “If only, Eliza, if only. I don’t know what’s going to happen, and I pray they’ll show mercy. But I’ll be honest with you, as honesty is the one thing which has been wholly absent in our family of late—I’m frightened.”

  “Of what?” Eliza asked.

  “Of the judge. I’ve heard dark things about Lord Styxsturm, how he’s changed from being moderate to brutally merciless. And it’s Styxsturm who has the final say in our fates.”

  Eliza stood, removing the sheath around her waist. She was about to throw the dagger upon the fire when the door swung open and Grim Shivers, last seen masquerading as Eustace Fallow, swept in, followed by two guards. All pretense at humanity was gone from the ghoul as he stood before her, long black robes covering most of the dark suit below. He tipped his top hat to Eliza, a humorless grimace on his pale, cadaverous face. “We have the body of the nightblind you killed. Its corpse is evidence enough; nonetheless, if you throw the darkling blade upon the fire, I shall make you retrieve it.”

  “What did you do to my parents?” Eliza asked as the blade in her hand lashed out, seemingly desperate to hack into the ghoul.

  “Your parents are safe. Asleep. Asleep for a very long time,” Grim Shivers replied. “Or they will be if I don’t return to the house and cut their throats. Sheathe the blade and hand it to me.”

  Eliza stared at him, her eyes burning with hatred.

  “Do as he asks, Eliza,” Tom said as he stood, Augustus joining him.

  Eliza swallowed, returning the blade to the sheath. She held it out, flinching as Grim Shivers snatched the dagger and handed it to a guard.

  “How did you get back to the Grimwytch?” Tom asked the ghoul.

  “Through the window,” Grim Shivers said, fixing Eliza with a look of contempt. “But I didn’t find you on the other side. Where did you go, girl?”

  “Don’t answer,” Tom said. “We don’t have to answer any of his questions. You’re not the judge, Grim Shivers.”

  “Maybe not,” the ghoul conceded. “But we shall soon see how Lord Justice Styxsturm passes judgment. And after, I’ll ask for time alone with you. For repayment.”

  “Repayment?” Tom shook his head.

  “For writing me from my domain. For leaving me on an island. You wronged me, Mr. Drabe. There will be consequences. But now, it’s time for justice. Follow me, and do not falter.”

  28

  Styxsturm

  Grim Shivers led them along a wide corridor lined with dark wooden panels and polished floorboards. Eliza found Tom’s hand and gripped it. “We’ll be all right. Won’t we?”

  “We won’t be here within the hour,” Augustus Pinch said. “At least, not in one piece. You should have left me in the prison, old man.”

  “I’m sorry,” Tom said, his eyes welling. “Sorry to both of you. I’ve made a terrible mess. I’ll tell Lord Styxsturm this is all my doing, I promise.”

  “For all the good it will do,” Augustus muttered darkly.

  Grim Shivers threw open a set of double doors and turned, blocking the room beyond. “You will be silent in this chamber. Not a word until it’s asked of you.”

  He strode through, admitting them into an immense courtroom. Eliza gazed at the ceiling. Above the rafters, which looked like huge bleached bones, there was a colossal stained glass window. Moonlight filtered down to the cold, hard flagstones below. On the walls, the arched stained glass windows showed images of towers and palaces and pious-looking figures writing in huge books.

  It reminded her of a church. A church for monsters.

  Polished benches stretched before them and at the end, a desk towered upon a platform. Two guards stood to either side, their hands on the hilts of their swords and visors.

  Grim Shivers led them along the aisle, motioning for them to sit on the bench facing the desk. Eliza glanced at Tom, but he shook his head. Beside him, Augustus Pinch stared down at his hobnailed shoes like a boy condemned.

  A door at the side of the room burst open and a man bustled through.

  He looked like a judge, wearing the same long black robes as Grim Shivers, with a white wig above his pale blue face. As he crossed the chamber his oversized slitted eyes found theirs, and he barely concealed the expression of disgust on his angular face.

  Behind the man, two more figures followed.

  Eliza recognized them at once. Mr. Bumbleton and Mrs. Sallow, who she’d dreamt of the night before.

  Or was it the night before? The memory of reading The Book of Kindly Deaths in that comfortable bed seemed so distant now, as if it had occurred in another life altogether.

  Mrs. Sallow glanced at Tom with resignation, Augustus with disgust, and Eliza with a fleeting glimpse of curiosity.

  The man with the blue face brought down a wooden gavel upon the bench. “We’re gathered here today to pass sentence on the accused. As my time is limited and evidence has already been collected, I shall dispense with needless formalities. The accused stand guilty. The boy, Master Pinch, is hereby accused of theft from the home of a frail malefactrix. The penalty for which is hanging.”

  Mr. Bumbleton held up his hand. “Lord Styxsturm, I may be mistaken, but I thought the penalty for theft was incarceration?”

  “It was,” Lord Styxsturm replied, “but I’ve been busy these last few weeks rewriting the old laws. These changes will soon become apparent to you.” Lord Styxsturm smiled, glancing at Tom. “The writer, Thomas Drabe, shall also be hanged, his crimes being treason to the Grimwytch, dereliction of duty, the kidnapping of the guardian Grim Shivers, and the breaching of the Midnight Prison. He has no doubt committed further crimes, but these are sufficient enough for him to hang.”

  “But my lord”—Mrs. Sallow held up her hand—“without the writer or his heir we will lose a valuable agent in the other world. This could have serious repercussions.”

  “I do not find it an issue,” Lord Styxsturm said.

  “But sir,” Mrs. Sallow continued, “you, as Lord Justice, are a custodian for the guild, and therefore…”

  “Do you wish to hang with them, Mrs. Sallow?” Lord Styxsturm asked.

  Mrs. Sallow clamped a hand over her mouth.

  “I thought not.” Lord Styxsturm smiled. “As I have already explained, I have written new laws. They shall be served, and anyone who opposes them will be held in contempt of my Midnight Court.”

  Mr. Bumbleton looked as if he was about to ask something when he thought better of it, nodding briskly.

  “And finally”—Lord Styxsturm pointed to Eliza—“we have Eliza Drabe, a girl who has shown complete and utter contempt for the laws of the Grimwytch. A girl who used a sacred book to transport herself into our realm and, while here, used a darkling blade to end the life of one of our citizens. This cruel and savage act will not result in hanging…”

  Lord Styxsturm paused as he gave Eliza a cold, thin smile. “But instead, the darkling blade she used to commit murder will be used against her. And who better to carry out the severance of head from drearspawn neck than her grandfather, for he vowed to end monstrous acts.”

  “I won’t do it. This is an outrage!” As Tom stepped towards the platform, the guards turned towards him, drawing their swords. Tom stopped. “This is madness. The guild must overrule this. When I entered into contract with you these laws were never—”

  Lord Styxsturm brought his gavel down with such force that Tom flinched. “Silence, writer. I’m tired of your words. As you can see, Mrs. Sallow and Mr. Bumbleton have held their tongues. Wisely. Which means there’s nothing more to be said. And if you won’t execute the girl, then I shall pass the honor to Grim Shivers. Would that please you?” he asked the ghoul.

  Grim Shivers stood, turning to regard Eliza with a look of delight. “More than words can describe.”

  Eliza shrank away, but he snatched her by the hair, dragging her to her feet and pulling the blade from its sheath, its song buzzing in her ears.

  Eliza tried to writhe free, but the ghoul hel
d her firm.

  As Augustus attempted to flee, a guard seized him as the other held the blade of its sword against Tom’s neck.

  There was no escape. Grim Shivers threw Eliza to the floor. Her head cracked against the cold, hard flagstones, and as she fought to right herself, she found the tip of the blade at her throat. She lay still, her heart pounding, her body shaking. “Please!” she cried. “Please, stop.”

  She glanced at the hem of Grim Shivers’s robes, and the carpet below with its elaborate weaves of gold and red. “I shouldn’t be here,” Eliza said. “I don’t belong here. I’m only twelve!”

  She watched as Grim Shivers lifted the blade, gazing dumbly at its sharply honed edge.

  Behind the ghoul, Tom sobbed, fighting to free himself, a gloved hand clamped over his mouth.

  Eliza shut her eyes and waited.

  29

  Of Beast and Arrow

  Eliza cried out as an almighty explosion filled the chamber, and stained glass fell like a shower of colored rain.

  A hooded figure soared down, a rope tied around its ankle.

  The guards and Grim Shivers rushed towards it. Eliza stood, watching numbly as the figure hacked the end of the rope, falling and rolling across the floor, leaping up, an arrow nocked to its bow.

  The guards stopped.

  Everything stopped.

  Eliza followed the path of the arrow. It was trained squarely at Lord Styxsturm.

  And then the figure stepped closer to the platform. “Tell the guards to drop their weapons.”

  “Shard?” Eliza whispered.

  “Stand down. And drop your swords.” Lord Styxsturm nodded to the guards. “For now.”

  There was a clatter of steel on stone.

  “What do you want?” Lord Styxsturm asked. “Are you here to free the condemned? I hope you realize the punishment for this outrage will be the severest this kingdom has seen.”

  “You are the condemned. I’ve come to execute you,” Shard said, for now Eliza could see his face as he glanced towards her. “And to free my friend. Wyrd is with us once again, Eliza Winter.”

  “And why do you wish to execute me?” Lord Styxsturm asked. If he was afraid, he masked it well. “We’ve never met, boy.”

  “True,” Shard replied. “And yet your hand set my world on its head and left it a black and hollow place.” Shard stepped closer to Lord Styxsturm. “I was out hunting the day you entered my house and slaughtered my family, making me the last of the line. And by blood oath, I’m here to end your line.”

  Lord Styxsturm shook his head. “You’re mistaken. I’m a supreme ward of the guild, not a common assassin. I haven’t left these chambers for months. And I’d say your family’s demise was a recent one by the tears gleaming in your eyes.”

  “It’s true,” Mrs. Sallow said. “Lord Styxsturm hasn’t left this court for many, many weeks. This is a case of mistaken identity.”

  “Lord Styxsturm, is it?” Shard asked. “Well, I’m sure Lord Styxsturm hasn’t left this place for weeks. But whoever Lord Styxsturm was, this isn’t him.”

  “This is madness,” Mr. Bumbleton said. “Utter madness.”

  “Is it?” Shard asked. “I see by your badges of office you’re members of the Midnight Guild. So you should know what a shapecaster is. But in case you don’t, a shapecaster is a creature that mimics the form of its last victim. In this case, Lord Styxsturm.”

  Lord Styxsturm shook his head. “The boy is grieving. And while I shall show him some mercy, delusional or not, he will need to hang.”

  “And,” Shard continued, “previous to this incarnation, he wore my father’s likeness as he travelled to the city. Can you imagine how I felt when I heard my slain father had been seen walking the city’s streets? But your arrogance is your undoing. As was the theft of my father’s locket, for it has a twin, which I wear. He gave me it when I was a child, so I could always find him. They call to each other.”

  Lord Styxsturm’s hand strayed beneath his robe as he pulled out a necklace, holding it up. “This trinket was given to me by an admirer.”

  “No,” Shard replied, “it was not. When you heard of my survival, you sent two assassins. The first I bested. The second, a darkwight, was foiled by my friend here, Eliza Winter. Wyrd once again. But it’s a poor fate for you, shapecaster.”

  “Put down your toy,” Lord Styxsturm said, but now Eliza could hear a flicker of fear in his voice.

  “I will, but not before I kill you,” Shard replied. “Tell me why you did it. Tell me why you murdered my family.”

  Lord Styxsturm shook his head. “There are machinations at play which, even if I tried to explain, you could never fathom.” He glanced to Mr. Bumbleton and Mrs. Sallow. “Not one of you. But mark my words when I say there’s a storm coming to the Grimwytch. One that will sweep you all away.”

  “But that’s not an answer,” Shard said, his fingers tensing on his bowstring. “So, once again, why did you kill my family?”

  “And once again,” the shapecaster cried, his voice quivering with rage, “I shall tell you nothing.”

  “Well, in that case, you have no further reason to live. These arrows are tipped with iron, as I know exactly how much torment iron causes your kind. Yet your pain will be little more than a splinter’s worth compared to the agony you’ve brought me.”

  Before the shapecaster could reply, Shard released the arrow. It thudded into the monster’s chest, causing it to stagger. It clutched the arrow as a terrible sizzling sound issued from its body and flailed and gnashed its teeth as a stench of burning flesh filled the chamber. It forced its gaping mouth into a malign grin as its hide seemed to ripple, as if something below it fought to be free. Eliza looked away as the creature’s face began to tear apart

  A terrible roar caused Eliza to look back at the towering creature standing in the place Lord Styxsturm had occupied. It was immense and covered with putrid-green flesh. Clawed hands reached from gangly limbs as it turned its long, horned head and stared at Shard through three spite-filled eyes. It opened its mouth to reveal two sets of spike-like teeth before roaring once more as two wings sprouted from its back, their unfurling clearly causing the shapecaster fresh agony.

  It took off, smashing through the remaining glass above. Shard loosed another arrow and it pierced the creature’s arm, bringing a new wail of pain.

  And then the creature was gone.

  30

  Flight

  Eliza followed Shard as he pulled his bow across his shoulder and ran. “Eliza!” Tom stumbled after her as Mrs. Sallow commanded the guards to stand down.

  “I have to help Shard,” Eliza called to her grandfather. Shard had saved her again, she couldn’t let him face the shapecaster alone. They ran from the hall. “Where are we going?” Eliza asked as a roar thundered across the night sky.

  “To the aranachiros in the courtyard. I’ll never find him if he gets away now. Go back to your grandfather, Eliza,” Shard said as he flew through the doors.

  Eliza continued to follow him. “No. I’m going to help you!”

  “It seems your mind’s settled,” Shard called as they ran into the night.

  “It is,” Eliza said. Even if the prospect of facing the beast terrified the living daylights out of her.

  They entered a large courtyard with stables at the far end and by the time the guards saw them, Shard had already untethered one of the aranachiros. Eliza flinched as it turned its huge, furry round head and regarded her with six beady black eyes.

  “It’s harmless!” Shard shouted as he climbed upon its saddle. Eliza took his hand and hiked up her skirt. She swung up behind him into the large saddle and tried her best to accept the horrific appearance of the creature below. But as her bare ankles brushed its fuzzy fur, she shuddered.

  “There!” Shard pointed. Eliza followed his finger to the distant speck of the shapecaster climbing into the sky. Shard kicked his feet against the aranachiros and it howled and cantered across the courtyard, sending t
he pursuing guards scattering for cover.

  The creature beat its wings and they were off, rising up. Eliza looked back at the receding buildings, gripping Shard as tightly as she could.

  “It’s seen us!” Shard yelled, the air snatching his words.

  The shapecaster hovered above them, treading the air, before sweeping down, its talons outstretched as it threw back its head and screamed. Shard unsheathed his sword, passing it to Eliza. “Strike when I say!”

  The shapecaster was mere feet away when Shard yanked the reins, sending the aranachiros dipping down. “Now!” he cried.

  Eliza swung the sword as the shapecaster shot over their heads. The tip of the blade caught the creature’s chest with such force it was almost wrenched from her hands. The shapecaster fell away, issuing a desolate howl.

  It faltered for a moment, and then wheeled towards them, its claws raking into the side of their aranachiros as it shot past, turning and rising back into the air.

  The aranachiros let out a hideous squeal and rocked so hard Shard and Eliza were nearly sent tumbling through the air. Shard leaned closer to their mount. “Climb!” he yelled to the creature. It obeyed, taking them soaring into the sky.

  Eliza peered down at the city lights. They were so far away now. She winced as the aranachiros howled, the force of its wings beating the air as it took them ever higher.

  “The shapecaster’s injured!” Shard cried. “But so’s our steed. Look, it’s making for the tower.”

  Eliza glanced over his shoulder. They were close enough to the tower that she could see the silhouettes of its inhabitants. They watched from their windows, a din of cries and shouts rising from the prison as Eliza and Shard raced past, climbing into the night.

  And then the shapecaster glided over the building’s roof, vanishing from view.

  As they coasted over the top of the tower, Shard snatched the reins, sending the aranachiros flying down. It landed heavily upon the roof, its breath labored as it slumped to a halt. Shard leaped off and threw back his hood and his hair rippled around the two horns on his head like hissing serpents. He nocked an arrow in his bow.