A Whisper of Death

by Paul Barrett

  Blink flapped his wings in irritation.

  “That’s what I thought.” Marcus smiled. It seemed to be a common expression on the boy, unlike Elissia, who offered them rarely.

  “So why did you bring us to a dead end?” Erick asked.

  “This is a thieves’ warren,” Elissia said. “There’s no such thing.”

  Marcus’s reached behind the mirror and gave a tug on something on the wall. With a click, the mirror popped open. A shiver ran through Erick as he recalled the last time he had found a secret room. He hoped his luck ran better with this one.

  Marcus opened the mirror and slipped inside. Everyone followed. When the door closed, the hallway went pitch black. “I assume you’re a bright eyes now,” Marcus said.

  “Afraid so,” Elissia said. “Didn’t have much need for sneaking in the dark this past three years.”

  “Everyone take hands then,” Marcus said.

  Great, another unlit corridor, Erick thought as Marcus took his hand and he took Elissia’s.

  This is too dark even for me, Blink thought. I don’t know how they do it.

  “How did you know about Blink’s creation?” Erick asked Marcus.

  “I’m a good listener, and sneaky,” Marcus said. “Azinor told father quite a bit about you when they thought I wasn’t around. None of it flattering. If they weren’t waiting for ‘The Master’ to show up, he would have probably had you killed on the spot.”

  Erick shivered again and said a small prayer to Denech that his luck had held so far. “Who is the Master?”

  He couldn’t see Marcus shrug but sensed it in the shift of the boy’s grip. “Don’t know, but Azinor got all gooey and reverent sounding when he talked about him, so he must be high up in the cult.”

  Erick had never heard of anyone in the Fist with the title of Master, other than Eligos himself. But Erick had disrupted Eligos when he destroyed the vampire. He couldn’t have already found a new host and organized a search for Erick. Could he? “Did-

  “Shhh,” Marcus said. “Save the chatter. This passage isn’t used much, but the walls are thin. We’re getting ready to go by rooms where people sleep. Quiet is the key.”

  They moved on in silence. Erick had no idea how long they walked, consumed instead by a growing dread that Eligos was back on his trail. Azinor’s use of the term Master gave him great concern. If Eligos had somehow returned already, how would Erick ever be able to stay ahead?

  Don’t let it rattle you, Blink told him. Nothing has changed. You need to get to Broken Mountain, no matter what.

  Yeah, I’m doing a great job of it so far.

  The longer they went, the more Erick’s nerves frayed. The smooth walls gave way to a rough tunnel, and occasionally Marcus whispered for them to duck to avoid a nasty crack to their skull. Despite the inanity of the idea, Erick couldn’t shake the thought they were being led to a trap. The darkness pressed in on him, making it difficult to breathe. Every footfall seemed to whisper doom, and every rustle of clothing sounded like the laughter from his weeks-old dream. Eligos lived and waited for him, possibly at the end of this tunnel. Their escape had been discovered. Darius and Azinor would be waiting as soon as he stepped into the light, ready to—

  Stop it, Blink thought. Everything’s okay. The dark is affecting you. We’re going to be okay.

  “How much further?” Erick asked, trying to hide his panic.

  “Almost there,” Marcus said. “See the light.”

  Erick couldn’t at first, but then he caught the faintest glimmer of yellow sunlight, perhaps five hundred feet ahead, shining on to the tunnel floor in a thin square outline. He latched on to it like a parched man seeking water. As they drew closer, his breathing eased, and his fears disappeared in implausibility.

  The brightness grew gradually, and Erick made out a wooden ladder that led up to a trapdoor. Light filtered through the dust in the tunnel and Erick smelled the dry scent of burlap.

  Marcus motioned to one of the other thieves—the tall, lanky one—and he crawled up the ladder, reminding Erick of a spider. He opened the trapdoor, scanned the room, and then disappeared from view as he went into the barn, closing the door behind him.

  “Wh-” Erick started but stopped as Marcus held up a finger, still watching the ceiling.

  A minute later the trapdoor opened. The thief looked down and gave a quick, sharp whistle.

  “It’s safe,” Marcus said. “Go on up.”

  Erick sent Blink up first, then Elissia and Corby, and he followed. He popped up into what appeared to be a warehouse, easily as large as his manor. Burlap bags stacked on wooden pallets filled one side, and wooden crates arranged in large rectangles took up another. Much of the building was empty. Large double doors on rails sat in the middle of two of the walls. Diffused light filtered in from square holes in the roof covered by thin sheets of hide, giving the room a muted orange cast.

  The shorter thief came up and closed the door. It all but disappeared into the floor, the gaps in the slats matching precisely with the boards on either side.

  “What is this?” Erick asked.

  “Escape room, in case the warren is ever raided. Don’t think many people know about this one anymore, so I figured it was the safest one to bring you to while we figure out what we’re going to do.”

  “What we’re going to do?” Blink asked.

  Marcus shrugged. “Father’s not stupid. It won’t take him long to figure out who helped you escape.”

  “Why did you help us?”

  “I think that should be obvious,” Marcus told Blink as he stared at Elissia. Erick didn’t need more proof of how much the twins cared for each other, but he got it in the adoration on Marcus’s face. Elissia walked over and stood beside her brother, her almond eyes alight.

  “There’s more to it,” Elissia said. “I know you acted like an ass because you had to, but your words damn near killed me. Why?”

  “It killed up to say them, but I had to prove my loyalty to Darius. I’m already under suspicion, so I’ve had to tread lightly. Torin has become even more of a tyrant than before. Trying to use you like he did and then banishing you was just the start. He’s done far worse things since.” He took Elissia’s hands. “Our dream to remove him is growing, even beyond our best hopes. But Darius is still loyal, so to make him think I was too, I did what I had to.” He looked at Erick and Blink. “Sorry.”

  “I understand,” Erick said. Having listened to Elissia’s story, he shuddered to imagine what else the ugly man might be capable of doing.

  “Now that you’re back, we can make it happen,” Marcus said. “Everyone saw how he treated you in the chamber. We can use you as a rallying point and have him out within a month. I can’t return to the warren, but there are plenty inside who can help. And I have hiding spots even the Procurers don’t know about.”

  “A month?” Elissia asked. “Father deposed and out of favor?”

  Marcus nodded. “You and I in charge. We can make it a better guild, a guild that works together on the wishes of everybody, not the whims of one man.”

  Erick watched Elissia slipping away from him. She had returned to her brother, and that reunion was probably the only reason she left Draymed with him. The plan they spoke of sounded a long time in the making, ready to come to fruition. She would stay behind and live her dream, leaving Erick to fend for himself. Erick’s gut twisted as he realized how he had been used.

  “I can’t, Mar,” Elissia said, pulling her hands from her brother’s. “Not yet. Nothing would make me happier than to watch father sent away in shame.” She paused a moment, and willfully maintained her composure. “But right now, I have to help Erick do what he has to do. Father will be there when we get back.”

  “He’ll be there. But the situation might not be. Things are on the edge. If we don’t strike soon, the chance may disappear.”

  “Better your chance disappear than everything else,” Corby said.

  Marcus took a step back from his sister
. “What exactly does he have to do that’s so Gods-damned important?”

  “Eligos of the Inconnu has returned. I have to meet the other Necromancers at Broken Mountain and learn how to destroy him before he raises an army of undead and makes war on the world again.”

  “Is that all?” Marcus said. He let out a hysterical chuckle. “And I thought our hopes were impossible.”

  “And I have to go with him,” Elissia said. The statement cost her dearly, and Erick’s disappointment reversed and redoubled as a fierce love for her.

  “Why? Why do you have to go with him?”

  “Because if he doesn’t make it, then problems with father will be the least of our worries. And because—” she stopped and stared at the floor.

  Marcus nodded, his face grim. “I see.”

  He looked at the other two thieves, then at Elissia, and sighed. “I’m in for the whole run, I guess. After waiting three years, I’m not going to let you out of my sight. I’ll go with you and take this idiot to his big mountain.” He turned to Erick. “But once you’re done saving the world, you have to come back and help save my guild. Agreed?”

  Elissia’s face lit up so much that Erick didn’t let Marcus’s insult bother him. “Agreed.”

  Marcus nodded. “Okay, we wait for night, then gather some supplies, and get out of town.”

  “We need a better plan,” Corby said. “Getting out of town is a start, but what then?”

  “Haven’t you been listening, cousin?” Marcus said. “We go to Broken Mountain.”

  “I know that,” Corby said. “But so does Azinor. And so will the Procurers Will they pursue us beyond the city walls?” he asked Marcus.

  “If they’re paid to,” Marcus answered. “Hell, father might do it for free out of spite.”

  “Pursuit greatly reduces our chance of success,” Corby said. “We’ve already had issues. The last thing we need is professional trackers hunting us. So how do we keep that from happening? And no-” Corby continued as Marcus started to speak. “We can’t overthrow Uncle Torin first. Something tells me Erick doesn’t have that much time.”

  Uncertain glances passed among the group. Erick wondered if he and Blink should go alone and take their chances, but then an idea came to him. “How long can we safely stay here?” he asked Marcus.

  The thief put his hand on his chin and stared at the ceiling. Erick followed his gaze but saw nothing. After a few moments, Marcus pointed to the other two thieves. “Callon and Dere and a few others can run interference, keep people away from here for a while.”

  “Until three hours after sunrise?”

  Marcus looked at the thieves, and the lanky one nodded.

  “Okay,” Erick said. “I’ve got an idea, but I’m going to need some herbs and a fresh eyeball.”

  21

  The Wight is another creature in the Necromancer’s Art, but unlike most, the souls for these monsters are brought from the middle depths of the Hells. As such, they are difficult to control, unreliable, and unwaveringly evil. The Inconnu used them to great effectiveness, but the Necromancers rarely summoned them during the war.

  -Corberin of Draymed, On the Necromancer’s Art

  “The graveyard’s on the other side,” Marcus told Erick. They stood beside a wall of dingy gray brick, easily twice as high as them and topped with six-inch iron spikes. Patches of moss grew across the stone. The wan light of Talan’s nearly shuttered Lantern turned the walls black and leprous, splotches of corruption on a moldy skeleton.

  “How do we get in?” Erick asked.

  Marcus pointed to two large trees with their trunks rising beside the wall. The lowest branches overhung the rampart.

  Erick groaned. “Isn’t there a front gate?”

  “Sure, and we could walk right through it if you care to explain to the guards why we want to stroll in a graveyard at Melteth’s hour, in black.”

  Erick touched his necklace, a ward against the mention of the evil night god. He smiled at the irony of the act, considering what he planned to do. “Why would anyone have guards for a graveyard?”

  Marcus grinned, his teeth shining out against his black clothing and the charcoal smeared across his face. Dressed in a similar fashion, Erick had felt ridiculous until he realized it did make them difficult to see. A good thing, since their wardrobe would have them in the dungeons if they were caught.

  “There are jewels and fine clothing in some of the mausoleums,” Marcus said. “The Procurers avoid them, but you get the occasional amateur who tries to break in for a quick looting, thinking it’s easier to steal from the dead than the living. Like as not, they end up dead themselves.”

  “Why?”

  “Because rich people can afford to have their tombs trapped. Let’s move. The guards patrol the outer wall sometimes, and I don’t want to get caught up a tree.”

  Marcus shimmied up the bole and onto the lowest branch. From there, he moved with sure-footed stealth across the limb until he sat above the wall, almost invisible with only his eyes and patches of his face showing dimly in the moonlight.

  Erick climbed the tree nowhere near as quickly or quietly. The pack hanging over his shoulder hindered him. He had not climbed in over five years, when he abandoned playing in the palm trees that grew near the manor. But he remembered the basics and soon reached the thief.

  Disdain on his face, Marcus whispered, “Any Procurer over the age of seven could have done that in half the time without sounding like a pregnant dog.”

  “Yeah?” Erick snapped back. “Can any of them bring a hundred dead pigs back to life?”

  Marcus’s face went blank for a moment, and then he let out a soft chuckle. “We have to drop to the ground. When I get down, lower your pack and then lower yourself and drop.” He gave a crooked smiled, teeth glowing. “Try and land like something other than a rock.”

  Marcus pushed himself off the limb and hit the ground in a crouch with a lack of sound cats would envy.

  Erick removed the pack from his shoulder and held it toward the Procurer’s outstretched arms. “Be careful with this,” he whispered, letting loose the strap. Marcus caught it and stepped to the side, disappearing behind a gravestone.

  To Erick, the ground suddenly appeared much further away than it did before he had to leave the safety of the tree. He prepared to jump, remembering from experience that rolling after landing helped avoid a broken leg. Sucking in his breath, he dropped toward the ground.

  Almost before he knew it, Erick stood on the ground, having landed and rolled with the ease of an acrobat. A dull stinging went through his ankles at the initial contact, but he seemed otherwise okay.

  “Nice,” Marcus whispered, coming up behind him. “They only heard that three blocks away instead of the five that heard you climbing.”

  Erick deflated. “Was it that bad?”

  “Pretty bad,” Marcus confirmed, handing the pack to Erick. “You should have hung off the branch and dropped. It would have been quieter and safer. But the guards around here are stupid, so we should be okay.”

  Erick couldn’t resist. “Stupid? They caught you.”

  “That’s because I let my feelings get in the way of my common sense.” Erick started to speak, but Marcus stopped him. “No, I’m not going to tell you what I did; I don’t know you that well. Let’s get off the path.”

  They moved into the shadows behind several large grave markers. Erick set his pack on the ground, opened the leather flap, and reached in to remove a human eyeball wrapped in cloth. Marcus watched as Erick unfolded the cloth to reveal the expertly extracted orb. The two thieves, Callon and Dere, had left the warehouse on Marcus’s orders and returned an hour later with the organ in their possession. They assured Erick it had been taken from someone who deserved it. Erick didn’t know if he believed them, but he didn’t have the luxury of propriety. He could only hope the gods would understand and accept the need.

  Pulling a thin silver needle from a holder in the sack, Erick held the index finger o
f his other hand a few inches over the eye and jabbed the needle into his fingertip. As the blood dripped from his punctured finger and fell onto the dead eye, he recited the Litany of True Vision.

  “Mucalz col cnila phamah, gigipah dorpha dode anoan. Alakanath, amde sibsu, dluga mucalz deteloc pham anoan apila. Krinnik, amde sibsu, dluga mucalz decalz ar anoan uran vaoan. Denech, amde sibsu, drix aldor mucalz od cnila de allor argedca.”

  Erick repeated the incantation twice more, dripping blood until it coated the eye. He sensed Marcus shivering beside him. The Elonsha whispered to Erick, as it always did.

  Ignore it, Blink thought, his mental voice faint with distance, but with enough power to help Erick in his task.

  As he finished the declamation, Erick sensed a shadow behind him, and darkness passed across his eyes. Startled, he turned, expecting a guard. Nothing stood behind him. Goosebumps tickled his body. A tingle crept across his scalp, as if a tiny, clawed spider ran over his head. He shook himself and the sensation disappeared, leaving him unnerved.

  Marcus let out a loud gasp as the blood on the eye disappeared, sucked into the orb through the membrane surrounding it. The eye twitched, the optic cord wiggling behind it like a demented tadpole.

  “I think I’m going to throw up.”

  “This is nothing,” Erick told him in a distracted voice, still shaken by the odd sensations.

  “Not from the eyeball,” Marcus said. “I just feel cold and nauseous. And what is that stench?”

  “That’s from the Elonsha.” Erick picked up the writhing sphere and placed his still bleeding finger against the tattered string of tissue hanging from the back of the eye. “I should have told you to stand away.”

  “What is Elonsha?”

  “The source of the power I use.”

  “Does it always feel like that?” Marcus asked, shaking.

  “Yes, but with Blink’s help I’m able to ignore it.” For the most part, Erick thought. He had never experienced any physical manifestations other than the smell and wasn’t sure what had happened.