A March of Woe (Overthrown Book 3)

by Aaron Bunce

  El’bryliz’s heart started to race as red and gold armor glinted in the compartment. He set the candle stub down on the ground, burning his fingers in the process and jammed his hands into the box.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  What Have You Become

  Henri followed the strange beast up onto the rooftop, marveling as it crawled spider-like up the steep wall and easily leapt to the adjoining roof. It didn’t move like any creature he had ever seen.

  He jumped the gap, landing softly just behind it, the sky opening up above him with a brilliant, arcing flash of lighting. The sound rained down, splitting the muffled silence of the phantom road.

  The creature loped ahead of him, picking its way through the warren of chimneys, pitched roofs, and turrets. Henri watched it perch precariously on a stone ledge as it prepared to leap to another perch, his festering anger bubbling forth. A red haze crept in, washing reason away.

  He lashed out before he could stop himself, first at the creature, and then at the wall. His foot connected with the wall, the mortar crumbling under the force. The beast warbled strangely, the stone breaking apart beneath it, and sprang straight up into the air, only just managing to scramble onto the balcony of the next building. Henri watched it climb, his anger continuing to build, until he was almost clawing at the air.

  I will see you again, soon, Hunter’s voice echoed in his head suddenly, the unbidden memory pushing through anger’s fog like a strong breeze.

  Henri reeled, his toes hanging over the considerable drop, watching the stone clatter and break apart below. You daft fool, Henri thought, sliding his feet back to safety. He’d almost lost himself completely to anger, and quickly, too.

  It was the phantom road. It was stripping him away, bit by bit. Before too long he would fall into anger, or jealousy, or despair, and he wouldn’t have the strength to pull himself back. Once that happened, what was left of Henri would drift off into the phantom road and become lost in the darkness, and he would become just another empty husk – just another delirium wandering the wastes between worlds.

  Henri took a deep breath and ran his hands over his salt and pepper hair. He had to stay grounded, if at all possible, and most of all, he couldn’t lose sight of why he was here.

  “Hunter, Luca, Eisa,” he said loud and steady, “I will help my children. I will see them safe, no matter where that is.” Repeating the mantra in whispered breaths, Henri leapt up to the next roof and ran forward, keeping the distant creature in his sights. Silently he hoped that he would be afforded the opportunity to see his home one final time and the wife he so miserably failed. As much as he needed to help his children, he needed her forgiveness, too.

  Regret pushed him faster, guilt and remorse forming a stronger bond with his memories and goals than he had expected. Henri caught up to the creature as it bounded across a leafless, ivy-covered arbor. A spire rose up out of the gloom, a piercing light glowing at its apex.

  Henri had seen the tower during his many visits to Ban Turin over the thaws, but now, in the phantom road, it looked different. He stopped to consider it as the beast ran on ahead. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly why, but somehow, it looked alive.

  The monster moved directly for the tower. Henri reluctantly climbed onto the arbor and kicked into a run. The structure loomed above him, its ebony stone more clearly defined than the buildings around it. It didn’t seem to belong.

  They approached, the beast mounting a bridge constructed onto the adjacent roof, the span connecting the cluster of newer buildings to the ancient tower. Henri stopped and peered over the side, and immediately understood why.

  A swarm of workers dotted the ground below, some swinging pickaxes and hammers, while others peeled stone up with their bare hands or toted away carts full of rock. They were tearing away the stone at the base of the tower, digging deep into the ground around the old structure and exposing what was previously hidden by dirt and cobblestone. The peaks of angular turrets had already been unearthed, the ground seemingly opening up as he watched.

  “It’s massive,” Henri breathed with the realization, and tipped back to look skyward. The peak of the sleek tower was evidently only part of a much larger structure. What lay at his feet, beneath the foundations of Denoril’s largest city? And what did it mean?

  Henri pushed away from the edge of the bridge, questions birthing more questions in his mind. The creature disappeared through a sleek entrance in the dark stone. He followed, but stopped just shy of the doorway. Henri looked up, the tower extending like a dark mountain above him, all too aware of the fear coursing through him.

  Was it the structure…the beast…the unknown darkness tearing the city apart? Whatever it was, Henri believed that it lay ahead. He tentatively stepped inside, the phantom road changing instantly. The soft, blurred lines and muted colors were gone, replaced by well-defined edges, as well as the swirling motes of color in the dark stone. A large, elaborate chandelier hung above, crystal orbs glowing brightly.

  A voice echoed through the stone confines ahead, radiating power as it buzzed off the stone and into his ears. He pushed forward, passing through an inner archway, the open interior of the tower spanning above him. Henri stopped at the handrail, his head tipping back, his gaze almost unable to crawl all the way up the building’s full height. Large, shiny braziers burned on each level, the glowing lights spanning like stars overhead.

  A white blur caught his eye below. He tracked it, finding the strange six-limbed beast loping down the coiling stair. Henri set off at a run to catch up, having to take two steps to span each stair, his breath echoing loudly in the space. The usual size of the stairs, as well as the sudden introduction of noise unnerved him.

  He stepped off the stairs, his boots slapping quietly against the stone. Bits of color brought his gaze to the ground. A mural had been expertly inlaid into the stone, depicting massive, long-limbed people, rich jade forming their eyes.

  The woman’s voice split the silence again. This time it was closer. She laughed, the sound making cold shivers run up Henri’s arms. He spun, tracking it. The space opened up underground, extending out east, west, north, and south. Henri took in a large, sprawling hall, covered in tables, another room full of what looked like massive, stone caldrons, and finally, a brightly lit room, its tiered floor rising up in segments towards a solitary throne.

  Henri stepped through a gilded archway, jade coiling throughout the ebony columns. Glittering statues dotted the outside wall, towering over him. The spindly figures appearing eerily similar to the characters pictured on the floor behind him.

  He approached the massive, ebony throne, the strange white beast blocking his view of the seat. Henri circled around as he approached, apprehension drawing at each step forward. Only curiosity kept him moving forward, his instincts instead begging him to turn and run.

  “Thank you, Dombrangr,” the woman said, her voice carrying around the hall.

  The beast growled something in an unintelligible language, his jaws snapping shut with violent finality. Henri gasped and ran forward, expecting to see a person writhing in pain, trapped in the beast’s toothy maw, but he staggered to a halt, his breath catching in his throat.

  A young woman leaned forward in the massive throne, the monster’s grotesque head resting on her outstretched palm. She ran a hand over its head affectionately, its spikey ears laying back. She leaned forward, whispering to the monster. The beast abruptly pulled away, shaking its head and circling around behind the throne. It crawled up the stone and perched over her, its massive, reptilian head motionless, its opaque eyes wide and searching.

  The woman sat upright, her delicate arms folded gently in her lap, a sheath of raven hair spilling down over her shoulders. Henri took a step forward, and then another, his body moving him forward of its own accord. The young woman flipped her hair back, exposing a thin, revealing garment.

  “Eisa!? My girl…my baby girl?” Henri exhaled, his uncertainty only making the realization th
at much more painful. He moved, circling her, sizing her up. Part of him denied it. After all, his Eisa was just entering her seasons as a woman. Yet the woman before him was alluring, matured, and developed in ways most men dreamed of.

  And yet, the harder he stared into her face, the more he saw the attributes only a parent would recognize – a small, pear shaped freckle just beneath her jaw, and the lopsided pout of her lip, the very same that had gotten her scolded for sneering as young girl. And yet, something had changed Eisa, matured her…darkened her.

  “Eisa?” Henri moaned, pain and torment cutting into him as keenly as a blade. She didn’t respond, save to search the space around him, her eyes large and remarkably green. They weren’t his daughter’s eyes, he knew that much.

  Henri’s gaze drifted up to the monster perched on the back of her chair, and he remembered. He felt the memory of the beast throwing Eisa into the pool, the dark glowing shape converging and pulling her into the cold, murky water.

  “You’re still in there, Eisa, I can feel it. The phantom road wouldn’t have brought me to you if you weren’t. Well, your father is here now, and I’m going to help you,” Henri promised, walking right up to her. She turned her head, looking right over his shoulder, and he was momentarily struck by how much she looked like her mother when they first met. Henri reflexively reached out to smooth down her hair, but his hand passed through her instead.

  Eisa’s hair rustled, as if caught by a gentle breeze and she abruptly sat up, her glowing eyes cutting through the air around Henri. She stood up. Her black skirt abruptly broke apart. No, not a skirt, Henri realized. Deliriums. Dozens of the wretched, shadowy beasts, packed so tightly together he could only now differentiate where one ended and the next began, slipped and crawled over one another, fighting to stay close to her body.

  The creatures followed Eisa forward, churning and crawling, their oily, black bodies seething around her legs as they fought over what looked like glowing fireflies. Henri watched, horrified, and realized that the strange, drifting lights were coming from her body. She strode down the stairs surrounding the throne, her gait smooth and seductive.

  “I’m here to help, Eisa. I’m here to help you remember who you are, to get you home and safe!” Henri said, falling back and fighting the urge to run from the delirium. Strangely, the beasts didn’t seem to notice him.

  “You were right, Dombrangr,” Eisa said with a smile, her white teeth glinting, and threw her arms out wide, leathery skin stretching and popping as bony wings violently unfurled behind her.

  Henri pulled the dagger free and staggered back, his mind reeling. The delirium went into frenzy, as a shower of glowing flecks scattered from her form.

  “Www…what have you become?” he whispered, his insides going cold.

  Eisa turned in a circle, the bony wings swooping down, like a macabre, skeletal bird was perched on her back. She circled around him, the seething delirium close behind.

  Henri leapt back, cutting hard at a bold delirium, its glassy, black claws and gaping mouth driving at him suddenly. He’d lost focus, letting the unnatural sight of his daughter’s wings transfix him.

  The delirium focused in on him, its hollow, black eyes shining. It lunged, and this time Henri didn’t retreat, instead stepping to the side and lashing out. The gleaming dagger struck the creature above its mouth, driving clean through its head. The inky flesh parted, the creature’s guts spilling forth like a dark fog.

  The other delirium seemed to see him now, their interest pulled from the strange floating particles. Henri set his feet as the shadow monsters crept in, their mouths wide in anticipation.

  Eisa crouched down, her fingers tracing a pattern on the ground. He could hear her voice, the odd words reverberating through the space like a chorus of singers.

  The delirium swarmed in, their oily, flexing bodies moving like broken wooden puppets. Henri stabbed the first beast in the chest, ripped out the blade, a clawed hand smacking into his head, and cut hard at another beast. He stabbed the closest shadowy body, but another churned into its place. The delirium knocked his arm aside and swarmed him over, covering him like a putrid blanket.

  “How can this be…my road?” Henri murmured, wincing as mouths clamped onto him in a dozen places. He pushed one creature away, drove the dagger through its face, and rolled to his right. The deliriums contracted around his body, sapping precious heat and strength as they constricted together like a massive, evil snake.

  Eisa’s voice filled the air again, spinning power, flexing words as she crouched down again. Henri rolled back in the other direction, prying on the oily bodies, but he couldn’t prize any leverage away.

  A wave of despair rolled over him as the delirium fed, his breath catching and everything dimming. He couldn’t go out like this. Not now, when he had come so very close. With a final, heroic effort, Henri broke their hold on his legs and managed to sit. He drove the dagger into a creature scrabbling against his right leg, pushed it away, and managed to stand.

  Eisa was behind him now, her voice almost singsong as she crouched, stood, and crouched again. Henri jabbed the dagger into a delirium, the blade punching easily through its shadowy flesh and slicing into his own. White-hot pain erupted deep inside, the blade’s cut doing more than just cutting him.

  The delirium wrenched him to the side, trying to pull him to the ground, but Eisa’s voice rang out again, this time booming against the stone like thunder. Henri staggered in an awkward circle, and caught sight of her. Her hands weaved an intricate pattern in the air, her fingers forming bright pinpricks of light.

  Henri caught sight of glyphs glowing on the ground, forming a circle all the way around him. Is that what she was doing, Henri puzzled, the runes pulsing with a vivid, green light.

  The light grew brighter, burning his eyes, a haze filling the air around him. Eisa yelled something, and he swung back around, her hands held out directly towards him.

  She yelled again, “Shed the veil, spirit,” this time her words slamming into Henri like a battering ram.

  The delirium released their hold, the horrible creatures shrieking in alarm. Henri felt a pinch in his chest as his body was pulled forward. He fought against it, locking his knees and pushing back, but his boots scraped against the stone. Weight settled over him, his body suddenly pressed towards the ground as a ripple of bright light split the phantom road.

  The light gave way to color, and then something strange, a breeze. Eisa’s fingers glowed, her hands slicing through the air, cutting through the gloom of the phantom road itself, pulling him into the light. The glare blinded Henri, his body pulled fully into the ripple. The weight doubled, smashing violently down upon him. And then he was free, staggering forward, a host of sensations assaulting him at once.

  Henri shielded his eyes from the bright light, sounds, odors, and even the rub of clothes against his skin suddenly overwhelming him. Someone groaned behind him, followed by another pained gag. They hacked and coughed, growling in unintelligible moans and cries.

  He turned, wincing away from the sounds, expecting to find someone in the throes of illness. Instead, he found a number of people, nude, writhing upon the ground. Their skin was gray and slack, hanging like stretched fabric over their bones. Their eyes were dull and lifeless, the lids drooping and unblinking.

  The delirium, he realized with shock, and instantly patted his chest. His flesh appeared white, his hands crawling up to his neck and face. What was he? What had happened? Henri turned and started, Eisa standing just a few paces away.

  “Daddy?” she gasped, holding her arms out, seeking his embrace.

  Henri rushed forward, his arms reaching out to her, but just before their fingers touched something impossibly hard smashed into him, knocking him back. Dazed, Henri lifted himself up into a sitting position, that simple act requiring more strength than he ever thought necessary. He wiped at his face, tar-like blood covering his fingers when they pulled away.

  “What…?” he stammered, slowl
y managing to his feet.

  Eisa watched him quietly, her eyes as green as Yarborough’s rolling hills. He stepped towards her slowly, the glyphs burning a dull green on the ground. Slowly, Henri raised his hands before him, until they fell upon an invisible barrier.

  “You’re not her. Who are you and what…have you done?” he asked, the effort of holding his hand out taxing him severely.

  “A father would know,” Eisa said, simply, “I have pierced the spirit realm and pulled you through the veil.”

  “But…why? Why her? Why us?” he asked, slumping towards the ground. He stole a quick glance back at the delirium, the creatures now trying to push up from the ground, their mouths wide and gasping, their dull eyes locked onto him.

  She crouched down to his level, the boney wings stretching out behind her, unfurling as she stretched her form, the revealing garment struggling to contain her gifts.

  “What have you done? What have you done with my daughter?” Henri asked, refusing to shy away.

  “You don’t show fear or cower, like so many of your kind. I like that. Your daughter was a fighter, too, Henri,” the monster wearing his daughter’s face, said.

  “You let her go. I want Eisa back!” he half-yelled, drawing a deep breath and pushing off the ground. He moved forward until they were face to face, only the shimmering barrier between them.

  “The dead demand nothing of the living,” she whispered in response.

  * * * *

  Aida didn’t leave the room, save to set the chamber pots out in the hall. She scurried back inside, feeling the shadow’s eyes watching her.

  Brother Dalman sat before the fire, spending a large portion of the morning sitting in some sort of trance. She thought him sleeping at first, but he was too still, too controlled. Besides, he snored the night before, so that told her all she needed to know.