The Winterstone Plague (The Carrion Cycle)

by Scroggins, David

  “By the gods!” He whispered between sobs. “Not you, Elsa. Anyone but you!”

  Tomas sank to the floor and took the woman into his arms. He held her against his chest and wept.

  * * *

  Philip scanned the horizon, not sure how to react to the bizarre silence that had enveloped the village. No birds chirped, and no townsfolk were walking about. The air, chill as it might be, had a bite to it that seemed unnatural, and he rubbed his hands together to feel some semblance of warmth.

  The warmth he sought never came.

  As he approached the old schoolhouse, a tingle shot up his spine, nearly forcing him to his knees. Something was very wrong; the building’s twin oaken doors had been left open; they swung, hinges creaking, with every gust of wind that passed by. He drew his sword and walked slowly up the short series of steps that led to the entrance. His heart was beating wildly, but he did what he could to calm himself. There was no reason to allow those emotions to control his decisions—not at a time like this.

  The lord of Solstice stepped into the building, from the cold of winter; into a nightmare of the likes he had never fathomed possible. The first of only two rooms was painted with blood. The walls were freshly smeared with a coat of deep, wet crimson, and a great many spatters decorated even the high ceilings. Bodies, of all of which were unidentifiable, covered the floor. Tiny lakes of red pooled wherever the old building’s planked flooring had a weak spot or a knot. Philip’s breath caught deep in his chest, and he nearly dropped his sword, turned, and ran from the room. He forced into his heart whatever courage could be summoned and advanced to the entrance of the second room. He wanted to cry out, perhaps run to gather his entire family and flee from the village, but he owed his people more than that, and he was no coward.

  The door leading into the part of the school meant for older children was also wide open, and so he gripped the hilt of his sword and entered. Not four paces away, two tiny shapes crouched low, their attention focused on a blood-soaked, broken body that might have been a boy in his early teenage years, as far as Philip could tell. There was only one small window in the room, making it difficult to see more details. Philip gathered his courage once more and made his way to the young pair.

  These poor children, he thought. I don’t know how they managed to survive, and now they’re trying to wake a child who shall never see the light of day again.

  He coughed, clearing his throat. “Young ones. That child is not sleeping. Please, come away from him.”

  The smallest of the pair whipped around with impossible speed and Philip saw the dead look in its eyes.

  “Gods!” He backed away and tried to grip his sword more tightly. His palms were sweating, making the blasted thing difficult to hold. “What did this to you?”

  Both creatures were advancing now.

  “Please, stay away from me!”

  Chapter 13

  BALIN OF Dor made his rounds, ensuring that each body had been decapitated and burned before making his way to the tent that served as his quarters when travelling. While most lords would have chosen opulent furnishings that were similar to those in which they were accustomed at home, the captain of the king’s guard opted instead for simplicity. The small table in the center of the room had been constructed in a way that allowed it to be folded and carried on a packhorse. It was a new design that had come from one of the brightest inventors in Vinter’s Edge, and he had been quite impressed when it was presented to him almost a year previous. Balin adored the craftsmanship and practicality of the piece so much that he had personally requested one for use when he travelled.

  Just as he was about to sit and sort through the pile of documents awaiting him, the tent flap rustled and he found himself standing face-to-face with his fat, balding assistant.

  “Why are you back so early, and why did you go in the first place? I asked you to send someone else.”

  “Right you did,” Johak replied. “But you should be thankful I disobeyed your orders.”

  “Oh?” Balin stared down his nose at the short, aging man. “And why would I be thankful for such a thing? The next thing I know, you will tell me that I should relieve my soldiers from duty and do a jig in the middle of the road until I’m eaten by one of those cursed beasts. What is the meaning of your little—”

  “I never entered the village,” he interrupted. “I was close, but there were good reasons for me to turn back.”

  Johak motioned towards an empty stool next to the table. “May I sit?”

  Balin nodded, and he sat.

  “Please continue with your story. My interested is piqued.”

  “Very good, sir,” he said, as he reached for a half-filled decanter and an empty brandy glass. “I believe Solstice will soon be overrun with the dead. From my small camp just outside the village, I prayed to Gehash the Beloved, as you have asked me to do on many an occasion.”

  “And he responded to your prayer?”

  Johak nodded. “I believe he did, sir. A feeling of wrongness came over me, and I ran from the place as quickly as I could manage. I have never felt such a thing in all of my days.”

  Balin scratched his beard. “You have given me much to think on. You did well.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “There is no need to thank me. The job of a leader is to carry out the mission entrusted to him and keep his men safe from danger while doing so. While he must sometimes second-guess his advisors, he should never do the same with his own gut feelings. Do you know what my gut tells me?”

  Johak shook his head.

  “It tells me that not only were your prayers answered, but also that what must now transpire is only the beginning of events that are far worse than any of us could possibly fathom.”

  “I don’t think I take your meaning.”

  Balin smiled. “I can see that much in your eyes. The only thing you need to know at this moment is that the world is in grave danger. I do not believe Alvanshia means for the majority of mankind to survive what she is planning. Ensure that your faith and resolve are both strong, for we must now take action to prevent total damnation. Be ready to march at my command!”

  “As you wish, my lord.”

  Johak returned the brandy glass to the table and stood from his chair. He drew the cloak that had been tied to his back for days—at least as far as Balin could tell—around him and took a moment to smooth the creases from the fabric before turning to leave the tent.

  “There is one more thing.”

  “Yes, my lord?”

  “With each creature slain, a cursed man is free to walk in the realm of souls. Please do not take this job lightly, for it is the work of Gehash.”

  “Of course. I hold nothing but the utmost respect in my heart for those who have passed from this world and into the next. And now I have a question for you.”

  “What is it?”

  “Are we to destroy another village?”

  “I am not ready to answer the question; that is why I must think on it. I do not intend to make blind choices if there are other options.”

  “A wise choice, indeed. May I take my leave?”

  Balin nodded and waved a hand to dismiss his assistant. He watched as the short, stocky fellow left, the thick flap of the massive tent falling back into place with a great swoosh.

  The heavy chair in which he sat provided little comfort, but he relished in the fact that he still drew breath. Each breath of fresh air that was inhaled into his lungs and expelled was a gift from the one true god. He knew that Gehash saw fit to take care of his every need, and as long as he trusted in The Beloved, nothing would ever happen in vain. He was a soldier of the king, but Balin’s heart belonged to the one who had saved him from a life of villainy.

  “Guide us through these hard times,” he spoke allowed. “I take each step so that your blessings may touch the lives of each man, woman, and child in Alvanshia. Even the wild animals bask in the glow that is your love, and it is for these reasons that I dev
ote my life to your teachings.”

  He finished the prayer by crossing his right hand over his heart and tracing a half moon in the air. The road ahead would stretch out for many years to come as Balin lived and walked upon Alvanshia’s soil. He would brave what horrors awaited him on life’s winding path until his god saw fit to grant him entry into the realm of souls, or provided him with a place by his side. All uttered prayers from this moment forward would be in honor of those who were to lose their lives to the struggles ahead—or worse.

  Noticing that Johak had consumed all the spirits in the tall decanter, Balin resolved to finish reading through the documents in the morning. For now, he thought it would be best to sleep, even if only for an hour or two. In the days to come, rest would become a luxury for which he could spare no time, for taking part in any luxury was sinful when Gehash called upon you to see his work through.

  Chapter 14

  VALTHIAN SEARCHED some of the places he had been asked by his father, but he could not find Jentha’s husband, and so he made a choice of his own. He decided to disobey his father’s orders. Enough information had come to him about the creatures from the decimated villages surrounding Solstice, and he was not about to stand by and allow the same fate to befall the ones he loved the most. It was time to pay Elyna’s father a visit. He would talk to Alain; convince him to take his daughter somewhere safe. Perhaps they could start a new life in Molhadius; maybe Valthian would join them when business in Solstice had been dealt with properly. He would not regret sending them away, though he loved Elyna with every fiber of his being. Her safety was more important to him than his own greed and lust.

  He wasted no time walking, instead opting to borrow a horse from the nearest farmer, a man named Culvin Rill. Under normal circumstances, Valthian would have been vehemently against taking an animal from someone without first asking, but recent events demanded immediate action, and so he now sat upon Millie, an old mare that had seen a few too many years to have a rider on her back, but she was the only horse within a mile of where he found himself standing.

  Despite of her advanced age, Millie was able to move at a gallop for most of the way, and once Alain’s smithy and cottage was in plain view, Valthian slowed the horse to a trot.

  “I hope you forgive me for pushing you so hard, Old Girl,” he said, reaching down to give her a gentle pat on the neck. “I assure you it is for a good cause. I will see to it that your master is paid well and you shall receive your fair share of oats.”

  He dismounted and tied the horse to a wooden post. He noticed almost immediately that the front door of the cottage was closed tight and breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing looked like it had been disturbed, so whatever madness threatened to unfold back in the heart of the village had not made its way here. That did not surprise the young lord; he knew full well why Elyna’s father had set up his home and business so far away from the daily hustle and bustle; Alain was a kind gentleman who would go out of his way to help another, but he was also a private man who enjoyed the peace and quiet of the surrounding forest. The time it took him to reach the door and give it three hard knocks was less than a minute, but it felt like forever, for his heart was beating wildly and his fingers were numb from the cold air; he had been so alarmed by the news of more creatures rising from the dead that he had neglected to bring the pair of the woolen gloves his mother had knitted for him for his seventeenth birthday.

  The young lord gritted his teeth and was prepared to knock again when the door creaked open. Alain stood before him; his usual smile had been replaced with a sullen expression and deep lines of worry that had never been present before.

  “Where’s Elyna?” Valthian asked. He tried not to notice the squeak that escaped his throat with the words.

  His expression deepened. “She is safe, locked in the cellar.”

  “Why is she in the cellar? What happened here?”

  “I do not know how to explain without showing you. I am actually pleased—as pleased as I can be at a time like this—to see you. I was not sure how to proceed.”

  “Proceed with what?”

  Alain sidestepped Valthian and walked slowly in the direction of the smithy. He turned and motioned with a finger. “I need you to follow me.”

  He tried to put the confusion out of his mind and did as he was told. The rickety barn that had been converted to allow for blacksmithing work was not far off, and right away Valthian noticed that for the first time since he could remember, the smell of molten iron did not pervade the air around the building. Alain never missed a day of work, and here it was, the middle of the day, the blacksmith prancing about his property, and no sign that any weapons, armor, or wagon parts had been produced today.

  “What are we doing?” Valthian asked.

  The blacksmith paused and turned to face the young man. “As I mentioned, I need you to see something.”

  “Look, I haven’t got all day. I need to speak with you about Elyna.”

  “It’s not far now,” Alain replied. “Just a few more paces in this direction.”

  He continued onward and Valthian followed. Something about the situation wasn’t right, but the only option was to keep walking, which is what the young lord did. They rounded a corner and found themselves standing at the back of a clearing just hidden from view by the smithy. A few unfinished pieces were scattered about, left to rust on the snow-blanketed ground, but that wasn’t what caught Valthian’s full attention. A lone tree stood tall in the center of the clearing, seemingly untouched by the cold of winter. Its leaves were still green and plentiful; it stood straight, as if with great pride that it had managed to beat the odds of survival in the midst of a season that brought with it the demise of most plants—and of many small animals lacking the wits to borough deep into the ground or seek shelter in a cave. Only this thriving oddity did not represent life, at least not on this day. A man, quite dead, was pinned to the tree by the head with a woodcutter’s axe. The axe crushed, more than it pierced, the skull, the blade stuck halfway into the thickest point of the tree, leaving the dead one in a standing position. He resembled a grotesque puppet, posed for a child’s enjoyment, only there were no strings to be seen. Instead, spatters of blood and brain formed an oddly breathtaking contrast to the endless miles of alabaster spread upon the floor of the world.

  “They were right,” Alain said absently as he stepped forward and placed a hand on Valthian’s shoulder. “Those things are real. He was one of them, and now he is no more.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I did what needed to be done.”

  “Will you at least tell me what happened?”

  “I saw it limping about as I was preparing materials for the day’s work. I hadn’t even begun to light the forge.”

  Valthian stepped closer. “I believe this is the man we have been looking for. I cannot tell from what is left of his face, but his clothes are similar to the description I was given, and he seems to be about the right size.”

  “This was a man you knew?” Alain asked.

  “Not that I knew personally. It is a long story, and I am afraid that I have no time to explain further. We must act quickly to keep you and Elyna safe. I fear that what we have seen will only get worse as the days go by.”

  “You believe there will be more?”

  Valthian nodded. “More of these creatures? Perhaps there will be, but I also have a gut feeling that these things are only the beginning of a much larger problem; although I have nothing more than a feeling to back up those words, it is a feeling stronger than I have ever experienced. We must go inside now and discuss how to get the two of you to safety.”

  “What if I choose to stay?”

  He grabbed the blacksmith by the shoulders and shook him. “Are you a madman? Wake up! You must think of your only child! Your daughter is counting on you to keep her alive; I am counting on you to keep her alive!

  “I—I understand. Yes, let us go inside and discuss the next plan of action. I also ne
ed to finish dressing my wound. I was almost done preparing the cloth for wrapping when I heard you knocking at the door.”

  Valthian backed away. “Wound? How were you wounded?”

  “It is nothing,” Alain replied, smiling weakly. “That one managed to sink his teeth into my arm before I could get a good swing in. I got the last laugh, it seems.”

  The blacksmith held up his right arm and drew up the sleeve of his shirt. A series of deep, crimson bite marks shown upon his flesh, blood still trickling menacingly down his forearm. Valthian stepped back and drew his sword.

  “What’s gotten into you?” Alain asked. “What is the meaning of this? What have I done wrong?”

  “Don’t you realize? That creature has placed its mark upon you! You are a dead man walking; if I don’t finish the job, we’ll all meet the same fate!”

  “No,” Alain whispered. “You’re insane. It’s barely a scrape! I feel fine!”

  “Damn you, Alain,” Valthian said, willing his hands not to tremble. “Damn this whole plague that has fallen upon our land!”

  The young lord advanced towards the target, his eyes stinging from tears dripping down his cheeks.

  Chapter 15

  THE SUNLIGHT was fading quickly by the time Tomas left the inn. He had tried his best to find the innkeeper before departing, but the old man was nowhere in sight. In the end, he decided it would be best to drag two heavy benches into the kitchen and place Elsa upon them. The blood was something Tomas would have to worry about later; first he had to find his father and tell him what had happened. A grizzly sight he would have been should a passerby take notice of his bloodstained clothing and matted hair, but there was no one around. Maybe the unfavorable weather was keeping everyone inside, he thought.