by JDL Rosell
“Nekromy is borrowed of the Blighted Son’s power, it is true. But to do the Mother’s work on earth, we must use what methods we can. To protect against the Firstborn, we must use his mighty, terrible works against him.”
Erik almost thought she sounded apologetic now, though he could understand precious little of what she said. A nekromist with a conscience as well as religion—who’d have thought it could all inhabit the same body?
Her hand was on the door, but she did not turn it. “You have come here for a purpose,” she said, all traces of weakness gone. “And not on account of your creator. What have you come for, if not as a messenger?”
Erik opened his mouth, but hesitated. Did he dare reveal his true desire? Once someone knew what you wanted, it was that much easier to manipulate you. But if I don’t ask, I’ll never know.
And he had to know.
“I want to be alive again,” he said, barely audible.
“Alive?” Her eyes shone with inscrutable emotion. “You cannot come back alive, boy. Dead men don’t come back to life, not truly, except in the stories.”
Erik felt—nothing. As empty as the Void. All emotion drained from him, like chalk dust in rain.
“But there is another possibility,” she said. “Another way your life might not be so… miserable. The way you speak, and think, it is already a gift of the Mother’s. Perhaps there is more we might make use of.”
He couldn’t help it. Despite it likely being a trap, despite the remote chance of any remittance from his existence, despite his abhorrence of this woman and everything she represented, his chest felt warm. He felt something, something like anticipation. Something like hope.
He nodded, barely refraining himself from falling on hands and knees and pleading for her to help, and she smiled. He noticed, somewhat irrelevantly, that her teeth were all still in, white and immaculate. Then she turned away, opened the door and stepped through, leaving him little choice but to follow.
He didn’t know what he’d expected behind that door, though with the Senescent’s girl and Tara both seeming scared, it had certainly been more than he saw. It was a big room, nearly as wide and long as the entrance hall, though the ceiling pressed close overhead. To his right, several tiers of glass vials were mounted on the wall, and glowing faintly with a sky blue luminescence, while in the back corner, there was a furnace orange with flames with a large vat heating something that Erik couldn’t see. A bench of various implements was on the left, and behind it were several rows of tables adorned with manacles on each of their corners.
But in the center of the room was the strangest ornament of all. Between four fluted columns was a large wooden circle with some kind of design on it. But the design was obscured by a figure, one the size and shape of a woman and lifelike in every way but one: her skin was pure white, almost translucent. Skin made of wax, he realized, or something like it. If he looked closely, he could saw the vague outlines of organs underneath. Erik shuddered and averted his eyes.
The two of them weren’t alone. A tall woman, her every feature obscured by long gray robes, stood in silence. High Matron Ada seemed to have acquired a bow in back she hadn’t had before.
“Greet our guest,” the crone snapped at the Senescent.
“Of course, Her Ancient. Welcome, Wil.” Her tone anything but welcoming.
Erik nodded, but he had trouble keeping eye contact, as his gaze kept flitting to the wax mannequin.
“Wil, is it?” Her Ancient mused. “No matter, all the same on the table.” She leered at him and motioned to one of the empty tables in the corner.
He was liking her offer of help less and less. “What am I here for?”
“What, did you already forget? You want to live, don’t you? I’ve got the best solution anyone can offer you, boy. But I can’t do it if you don’t lie down for me.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why.” His eye twitched, always returning to the woman on the wooden circle.
“You want to know what I do here first? Fine, act the fool and say farewell to your only chance at a better life.” And she turned from him and walked before her mannequin, beginning to look it up and down and mumble. The Senescent didn’t move, a gray sentinel in the shadows.
Erik felt his heart beat faster, but he clenched his jaw. “What of the Rook? Tell me where to find the Rook, and I’ll be on my way.”
“The Rook?” The crone barked a laugh without turning. “Don’t waste your time, boy. You’ve gotten all the help you can from your creator.”
“It wasn’t the Rook. Why do you keep saying it was?” He drew a deep breath. What have I got to lose at this point? “It was the Crow, Vodrun. He made me what I am.”
“Vodrun?” The crone half-turned at that. “Vodrun did, did he? And you don’t know who the Rook is. I wonder…”
“What?” His restraint was wearing thin. “Just tell me who the damn Rook is.”
“Patience!” the Magpie suddenly snapped, nostrils flaring, but the rest of her face remained strangely inanimate. “Grant me one blighted moment to think, boy, and maybe I’ll sort out a solution for you. Or don’t you want to live?”
He kept his mouth shut.
“Better. You might not be so hard to leash after all.” She leered at him again, and resentment quickly rose to a boil inside him. “Any moment now,” she continued, “there will come through that door—”
But even as she spoke, the door opened, and the Senescent’s girl Yelfild ushered in a hunched over Persey and a very tense Tara. Tara blinked in surprise at seeing him, her mouth half-open, but nothing came out. Erik shrugged slightly, as if to say, I know as little as you, even if it wasn’t quite true.
“Ah, here we are. Finally.” The Magpie cast a meaningful look at Yelfild, and the girl cowered away. “But better you come late than not at all, isn’t that right? Tara, dear, have you been looking after our little friend well?”
“Yes, Her Ancient,” Tara said stiffly. “Very well.”
“Good, good.” The crone smiled, and Erik wondered if the wax figurine might not smile the same false way. “Girl, come here.” She beckoned to Persey. “I won’t hurt you, you know that.”
His skin crawled as Persey, after Tara gave her a gentle push forward, walked slowly to the bent woman’s outreached hand. “Yes, yes,” the Magpie said impatiently with a wave of her hand. “Come here already.”
When Persey was close enough, she gripped her by the shoulder and steered her in front of the mannequin. The girl’s wavy red hair fell over her back as she looked up.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” the nekromist said softly. “Its flawless form, its ageless features?”
“Not really,” Persey said in small voice.
The crone’s eyes wandered over to Erik and locked his gaze. “Wouldn’t you like to look like her one day, girl? Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
Erik recoiled inwardly, but he didn’t look away. Persey backed up, chin quivering, but she didn’t cower away. “No,” she said in a small voice. “No, it wouldn’t.”
“Girl,” the Magpie said, her eyes still on Erik’s, as her grip tightened so the girl couldn’t escape. He couldn’t look away, even as his stomach boiled with acid. “Not yet, of course. You are still too young. There is still so much to learn about you. And wouldn’t you like to help me learn, child?”
“Let go.” Persey’s voice was small, her eyes downcast, but she spoke louder than before.
“Please, Her Ancient,” Tara pleaded, still rooted to her spot. “You’re scaring her.”
“Scaring her, am I? Perhaps she should be scared. There are scary things waiting for us out in the world.” The crone finally pulled her gaze from Erik to look down at the girl. “You have to be prepared—”
“Let me go!” Persey screamed and tried yanking away from the woman, but despite her advanced age, the crone held on with impervious strength.
Erik was stunned to stillness, but Tara fell to her knees before the girl. “Pleas
e, Persey,” she begged. “Calm down.”
“Let me go, you bitch! Let me go! Let me go!” The girl started pummeling at the old woman, in the stomach and legs and arms, but the crone just laughed.
“Yes! Let me see it, little one. Let me feel your rage.”
Erik finally snapped out of his stupor and took a step towards the furious child and her captor, but stopped at a sharp gaze from Tara. Wait, she mouthed, but he didn’t know what for.
The next moment, he felt it.
It was like a deafening crash with no sound. It was like he dove deep into a lake. It was like he’d stared too long at the sun. It was like his brain swelled like a rising bun, pressing against his thrumming skull.
And all at once, the deadening pressure was gone, and Erik collapsed to his knees, clutching his head. When he could look up, he saw the other adults in the room similarly prostrate, while Persey was curled up next to Tara, hugging her knees and rocking back and forth with tears streaming down her face. He stared dumbly at her, unable to understand what had happened.
Then he flinched as a bony grip seized his arm. Looking over, he saw the Magpie leering up at him.
“See how much more you can become?” she gasped, an insane smile on her face.
Far’egan, he thought. But he had no more chance to think about it, for a sound welled up from beyond the door. Despite the immediacy of the strange occurrence, everyone stiffened like foxes caught by a hound to listen to it.
Horns, long and solemn, blew outside the essent’s walls.
“There’s nothing planned,” the nekromist muttered to herself. “Nothing that should be coming. It can’t… Unless…” Her eyes widened, and Erik felt uneasiness grip hold. If she looked afraid, he could only imagine how terrified he should feel.
She looked at Erik with renewed evaluation. “You must leave. Now. Leave and never return.”
“Why?” He shakily rose to his feet. “What do the horns mean?” But he already knew. The horns of any town ever meant one thing.
“An attack,” Tara said. “Nekros.”
“But there shouldn’t be an attack,” Her Ancient snapped. “I have taken precautions to take care of this. But if it is so, it must mean something has broken past them.” She looked again at Erik. Careful. Considering. “He warned me of this. Told me to prepare. But how do you prepare for a creature such as he?”
“Who warned you? What creature?” Erik wanted to shake her. “Give me a straight answer!”
“Who warned me?” the crone asked, rising slowly. “The Rook, that’s who. Your father.”
He put a hand back for the wall—the floor suddenly seemed a bit unsteady. “My father?” He started to grin, but it slipped from his face like melted butter from a knife. “Tacitus ven’Suden, the Rook? No—no, no, not my father.”
“Well, it is your father, and you should have known it sooner. And you would’ve, if you hadn’t blinded yourself to it.”
“My father.” He thought of all the years of receiving elixir. He thought of Vodrun’s accusations of collaboration. He thought of his father’s tired, tired eyes that night he’d left Zauhn.
Her Ancient looked away. “Get back to him, if you can. He ought to know what to do. And if he doesn’t… Well, you can’t stay here.” She shook her head. “Why he didn’t tell you in the first place and save you all this trouble, you’ll have to ask yourself. Now, I have my town to save.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small stone, black and veined with fine white swirls. Erik watched without interest, without much thought at all, as she slid her fingers across the stone. Then a hidden door opened in the shadowy back of the room, and out filed a line of humanoid figures.
They were clad in leather and carried spear and shield, and looked human but for the ethereal skin evident between the gaps, and the pale, still faces underneath the metal caps. Wax soldiers, ready to march to battle.
They filed up, row after row, and stood at attention. Erik gaped, even as his mind remained numb from the incomprehensible news. It was a different kind of lurcher before him, one that seemed not to decay, which might remain as dangerous as any newly made one. The implication of it was terrifying, especially with how many marched out.
“Get on with it,” she muttered, touching the stone again, and the soldiers filed out the door. She looked back to Erik. “Don’t stand there like a lost lamb,” she snapped. “Get out of here! You’re the blighted reason for all this.”
“Me?” He did start to laugh, then. It was all too much. “I’m the reason?”
He didn’t see her slap coming. “Yes,” she said as his cheek burned. “You. There’s a very good reason why, and I don’t have time to explain. Now get out of here while you still have a chance of making it.”
The last of the soldiers—there must have been some six or seven dozen—left the room, and Her Ancient started after them. “Don’t delay,” she warned one last time, then disappeared through the door.
Erik, not knowing what else to do, followed after her and her creations. He didn’t even realize he hadn’t said any sort of goodbye to Tara or Persey until he was back in the Senescent’s office. But as he paused there, undecided of whether or not to go back, the door burst open again, and Tara and Persey stumbled out of it.
“Wil,” Tara said breathlessly and rushed to grab his hand. “We’re going with you.”
“You are?” He looked from the relict to the girl and back. “Both of you?”
Tara nodded and swallowed. “I fear for her here,” she said as she pulled Persey towards her. “Her Ancient—I fear what she wants to make her.”
Persey, for her part, looked angry rather than scared at the moment. She glared defiantly at Erik, as if daring him to not let them come.
“Well…” But his mind wouldn’t work. He couldn’t think, much less make a decision. “I…”
“We’re coming,” Tara said more firmly this time and turned him by his arm. “I don’t know what it means that your father is that bird, but you have to start moving. Whatever’s coming, I’ve never seen those things come out before, and we’ve had bad nekros raids. This must be the worst there is.”
She’d ushered him out the door before he started thinking for himself. “Wait. If it’s after me, then that puts you two in danger. You… I can’t have that. I won’t.”
Tara bit her lip. “No, we’ll have to risk it. Her Ancient would never let us leave if she weren’t distracted. This is our best chance to escape. And,” she added, “if whatever has her scared is coming here, we’re in just as much danger staying as leaving.”
Erik felt she must be wrong, but couldn’t explain how. “Fine,” he muttered. “But I have to get my things before we go.”
He set off to do it, not waiting to see if they followed. It felt good to have a distinct purpose, to focus on that, and not the other unanswered questions, or the unknown threat that waited for them outside. In a matter of minutes, after Tara led him through the winding halls back to his room, he was dressed in Wil’s dyed shirt and trousers again, with Ilyse’s belt buckled, his knife strapped on, and his surinx tucked away.
Then they headed out of the essent, their last sanctuary in Kuust, and out into the warring town.
Fourteen
The silence that had reigned over the town was now riddled with strife. Screams punctured the air, and the clashing of a distant melee echoed between the alleys, while a horn, mournful as a wolf’s howl, blew over and over to urge men to arms. The sun was high, but the day seemed set for blood, and the ever-hanging moon was pale with fear.
Without speaking, Tara pulled Persey along behind her, heading away from the fighting, away from the land and towards the sea. Erik rushed to catch up. “You have a boat?” he asked. He remembered her coming back with fish and her sailing to save Persey.
She nodded, not slowing. “A little sailboat made of a tub, but it should hold us three.”
She should not take me. He didn’t understand why she did. Were o
ur places reversed, would I take them with me? He was glad he didn’t have to answer that question.
As they passed by the shuttered windows of the town, he saw eyes peer out, wide with fear and amazement at the three wanderers. They don’t know the half of it, he thought. He didn’t know why he believed the Magpie that he was the cause for this attack, but he did believe it. Perhaps it was the strange encounter in the woods. Perhaps it was because of what he was.
Though I’m not much odder than the girl. He glanced at Persey as they jogged. Her face still looked angry with determination, though her red waves bouncing about her face made the expression almost comical. Almost, but he had felt her power, and there was little amusing about that.
“What do you think it is?” Tara asked softly, obviously trying to not let Persey hear.
Erik considered, and didn’t like what he came up with. “We need to move faster,” he said, and set the pace.
“What?” Tara panted. “What is it?” Persey was even worse off, breathing raggedly, her feet seeming to find every crack in the cobblestones, but they couldn’t slow. Not with what was coming.
“Mooneyes. If they’re coming for me, they’ll arrive here quickly. A few wax soldiers aren’t going to—”
But he pulled up short and held up an arm to stop the woman and girl. Around the corner of a building ahead, a shadow fell upon the street.
It slunk on silent paws towards them, eyes bright even in the sunlight. Erik, frozen, numbly took in the details of its body: the powerful sinews flexing as it padded forward; the long, midnight fur that flowed from around its neck and hung from its chin; the gray tongue that flicked over star-white fangs; and the eyes, the glowing, intelligent eyes, watching, calculating, waiting for its moment to pounce. The nautded dog in Lienze was nothing compared to this. A playing pup to hunting lion.
Erik’s mind slowly came back. “Get back,” he hissed at Tara. “Get out of here.”
The relict obeyed immediately, dragging a stiff Persey with her, the girl looking confused for some reason.
“Go to the docks if…” Tara’s voice trailed off. He didn’t need her to finish. If I somehow stay alive.