20
Hiroc
Ealstan's expression wavered, as though he, too, had felt the ethereal chill. His hand stopped playing with the knife's pommel. His fingers gripped it until they became as white as the bone it was carved from. "What was that?" he whispered, his voice flickering.
Shouting filtered from outside. Hiroc grunted at Ealstan. He had also felt the chill, but he wasn't about to show his fear to the other man. He stood and walked outside, following the shouting.
Three men were gathered in the alleyway, arguing with each other. Even through the fog, Hiroc recognized Oswin, the shortest of the three men. The other pair of men was middle-aged and covered in grime, one with a drooping belly peeking out from the bottom of his filthy tunic, and the other a muscular man whose face was hidden beneath wild hair.
Hiroc turned to Ealstan, who was trying to peer over his shoulder and into the alleyway.
"I'll deal with this," Hiroc said, squaring his shoulders to further obstruct Ealstan's view.
Ealstan pouted, his thin mustache like a little worm above pursed lips. He grunted before leaving the hall.
Hiroc shut the back door and returned his gaze to the alleyway. Big Belly was still yelling, prodding Oswin's chest with a grimy finger. As soon as Hiroc stepped out from the eatery, he was struck by the scent of sulfur. He couldn't place where the smell was coming from, so he ignored it.
"What's going on here?" he asked. He was careful to keep his tone level. It would be unwise to reveal his relationship with Oswin.
Oswin nodded at Big Belly and Wild Hair. "These two accused me of lurking around the Basilica."
Hiroc reared back at the stench of ale on his breath. Not only was his friend trespassing, but he was also drunk.
"So I punched him," Oswin said, as though that were the only reasonable reaction.
Hiroc rolled his eyes. It was typical of Oswin to go around punching people who disagreed with him.
"Then you are all guilty of trespassing," Hiroc said to them all. He let his gaze linger on Oswin for a moment. He wanted Oswin to know how foolish it was to enter the Basilica District. "Do you know the punishment for being in holy areas?"
Big Belly stepped forward and pointed an accusatory finger at Oswin. "This pretty-boy is the one who's trespassing. Not us. We were fixing the roof from the flooding. High Priest Idmaer ordered us to do it." He removed a parchment from his pocket and handed it to Hiroc. It was a cleaning notice, signed by Idmaer.
Hiroc peered at the alley. Tools were scattered along the ground, and a ladder leaned against the fence. Wild Hair was lurking in the background. He seemed to have grown uninterested in the fight; either that or he was acting guilty about something. Regardless, the laborers had a better reason for being here than Oswin.
Hiroc turned to his friend, making pains to hide their relationship behind a gruff tone. "You need to leave now before I call the guards. These two have a legitimate reason for being here. You do not."
"I needed to speak with you," Oswin whispered. The next few sentences were a mess of garbled syllables as he seemed to lose control of his tongue. ". . . rumors you saw something at the altar. Figured better to speak with you than someone else. You weren't at The Flaming Monkey, so I decided to come 'ere. Thought something happened to you. I wasn't planning on making this public, but these two saw me." Oswin nodded at the laborers obscured behind the growing fog.
"Quit your whispering," a deep voice said, coming from behind the fog. "This Fatherless owes us an apology."
A muscle-laden arm shot out from the fog and grabbed Hiroc by the shoulder. A fist slugged him across the chin. His vision sparked before clearing to another meaty fist. He ducked and drove his own fist into the mist. He felt it plunge into something soft and fleshy, followed by a cry of pain.
Hiroc spun around. Wild Hair's face materialized from within the mist. Oswin grabbed Wild Hair's shoulders, while Hiroc uppercut his jaw. Wild Hair dropped to the ground, unconscious and twitching. There was no sign of Big Belly. He had probably turned tail when things had become violent.
"Well, I reckon we've had our fun tonight." Oswin wiped his hands. "How about we go to The Flaming Monkey now? I think I'm starting to grow sober."
Hiroc rubbed his jaw where the man had struck him. "I'll meet you there. I have to deal with these two first." He couldn't be seen fighting, especially on the backend of Ealstan's threats. He needed to get Oswin out of there quickly and then have someone send the laborers outside the Basilica District.
Something let out a deep growl behind Oswin. Wild Hair appeared, hands raised. His fingernails were so long, they looked like talons. He growled again, revealing canines sharp enough to belong to a wolf.
"Now I know I'm not sober," Oswin said, shaking his head.
Wild Hair slashed at Oswin with his clawed hands. Jumping back, Oswin dodged the attack. Hiroc touched his ring as Oswin grabbed Wild Hair's wrist and spun him around.
"Help me," Oswin yelled.
Hiroc let go of his ring. Together, Oswin and Hiroc managed to pin Wild Hair against the ground. He thrashed against their grips. Hiroc looked down at the man's hands. The blade-like nails were covered in blood. Human nails lay on the ground, along with two dozen fragments of human teeth. In a matter of minutes, Wild Hair had changed into this vicious man-beast.
"Where'd the other one go?" Oswin said through clenched teeth. Before Hiroc could answer, the mists swayed in the wind, revealing Big Belly face down in a pool of blood. Deep cuts slashed across his stomach.
Wild Hair struggled. His skin rippled and grew transparent. Veins pressed against the surface of his face. His blood glowed like hot coals.
"What's wrong with him?" Oswin asked, clearly terrified.
Wild Hair screamed a series of guttural words in a language Hiroc had never heard. He spat and frothed at the mouth. Even with the two of them using all of their strength, they were having trouble keeping him down. A crack sounded when the man's shoulder bent the wrong way. He didn't cry out. He continued to struggle despite the injury, oblivious to what must have been excruciating pain.
"Hiroc!" a female voice called from behind.
Hiroc looked over his shoulder. Carrying a staff, Mother Superior Edoma stepped from the acolyte's eating hall and into the alley. Her dress was covered in blood. Runes drawn in harsh lines on her face shone crimson in the low light—two half-circles with a spider in the center. Those same runes marked the tip of her staff, making it flare like a torch.
"Get to the temple," Edoma shouted. She seemed oblivious to the man they were holding down. "If you see anyone else along the way, tell them to—"
Wild Hair's eyes shot open, and he wailed like a banshee.
Hiroc touched his ring and whispered, "Enlil, deity of the sacred flame, hear me—"
Edoma pushed him back before he could finish the incantation. "That man's not human anymore." She swung the staff onto Wild Hair's neck. With a crack, his neck snapped. Twitching, he seemed to be completely paralyzed. Edoma grabbed a wineskin from her belt and emptied its contents around Wild Hair. Mouth agape, Hiroc could only watch as she quickly drew a ward onto the ground and dragged a convulsing Wild Hair onto it. A final crack with the staff and Wild Hair's skull caved in. A crimson mist trailed from his corpse before vanishing. It left behind a strong smell of sulfur.
"A great evil has descended upon Indham," Edoma said as she leaned on the staff. Her breathing was ragged. "It possessed this man. The wards destroyed it."
"You killed him," Hiroc said.
"That man was dead as soon as the spirit took him."
Was she avoiding calling that thing a wraith? That's surely what it had been.
Four Daughters of Enlil filtered out into the alleyway. They were also wearing bloodstained clothing and bore the same wards on their faces.
Edoma nodded at Big Belly's corpse and said to the Daughters, "Take the clean man to the temple. His blood will be useful there."
Hiroc stepped in front of the Daught
ers. "What do you mean to do with him? Human blood should not be used in sacrifices."
"We aren't sacrificing him," Edoma said. "Go to Enlil's Temple. If Idmaer thinks it necessary, you will learn more there."
21
Edoma
Edoma guided Indham's people through the temple gates. Outside the gates was a rune circle she had painted. It glowed whenever someone possessed by a wraith tried to pass. They were then bound and imprisoned inside the temple's stables by warded warriors, to be dealt with later.
"Take anyone who makes the wards glow out back," Bertram, captain of the warrior's watch, said to a group of fresh warriors. Those they'd come to relieve were wide-eyed and trembling. They'd been forced to kill many they'd called friends who had turned. Some had even hewn down family members.
Feeling herself growing faint, Edoma started walking to the temple for water. She watched as a warrior took a woman by the chains that shackled her wrists and ankles. The woman snarled like a rabid wolf and wrenched against her bonds.
"You cannot take my wife," a frail pilgrim cried out, slamming his fists against the warrior's back. His wife's hands clawed at the ground. Edoma gasped when she saw the woman's nails pull away from her fingers, embedded in the stone.
"Mother Edoma," the old pilgrim called out, "you must stop them from taking my dear Elena."
"I cannot," Edoma said. "She is taken by plague." It wasn't the first time that night she had told someone that a loved one had been stricken by plague. This one was far along and was difficult to hold down. She spotted a warrior who couldn't decide where to start. "Help him." Edoma pointed to the warrior struggling with the crazed woman.
"She's a noble," the other warrior replied. He was a young man, probably not much older than the age of admittance.
But he was right. While the woman was wearing the plain garb that all pilgrims wore, she bore the look of a noble from Winhurst. It didn't matter. There was no such thing as highborn or lowborn now. Clean or unclean. Human or skinwalker. That's all that mattered now.
"Do it," Edoma said to him.
This time, he obeyed. He ran after the chained woman and helped his comrade drag her out of sight. Edoma knew the people would be safe even though the skinwalkers were within the temple. When they were executed, the wraiths would vanish because the temple's boundaries were warded.
Taking the old pilgrim's hand, Edoma took him to the crypt. She gave him words of comfort that didn't seem to touch his ears. He shifted through the mass of other pilgrims busy bickering over blame for the night's calamity.
In the next room were the Council members. Edoma was glad none of them had become skinwalkers. Executing a Council member would have surely sent the town into civil war. Some demanded to know what Edoma was thinking with imprisoning folk and forcing everyone else to sleep in the temple that night. Such objections were quickly silenced after a handful of terrifying accounts about those who had become skinwalkers. In the morning, they would learn that the warriors weren't just imprisoning people.
The warriors and priests had been sent to the rear rooms where the Daughters of Enlil normally slept. When Edoma visited them, they were on the verge of a fight, so she commanded the priests to take the northern commons, and the warriors the southern.
"A good choice, separating them," Saega said. Each heavy breath was dry and raspy. "It seems the lamb's blood didn't work. I'm afraid I only ever used the blood of cattle for my magic. It was always sufficient. I suppose protection magic requires something stronger."
"I know that now," she said. "I'm afraid I don't know how strong human blood is. There's not an endless supply of it." She thought about what she'd seen in Mundos and shuddered.
"Human blood will provide protection for a night. I wouldn't risk anything longer than that. You'll have to ward the buildings every day. You don't have anything stronger available? Dragon blood, perhaps? That would last at least a week."
Edoma considered Saega's words. She did have something.
Leaving Saega behind, Edoma went to her personal chambers. A chest was at her bed's foot. All her most precious belongings lay inside it. She unlatched the lock and heaved open the lid. Avoiding the shiny allure of the scrying crystal, she removed a small vial. A dark liquid sloshed within it—onyx dragon blood. There was only a tiny amount, but it would be enough should she absolutely need it. At most, a few people could be warded with it. It was the strongest blood she had available. Or, at least, the strongest blood she was willing to use.
Edoma came to the nave and was immediately relieved. There was a quietness there. No one was bickering. Unlike the others, they knew something dreadful had come, and the only thing that might stop it was prayer. They were kneeling before icons of Enlil's Flame. Families huddled together, their hands linked, while they petitioned for mercy.
The sight brought a tear to Edoma's eye.
The quest was interrupted as Idmaer stepped forward to speak. "It's too dangerous to be in your homes this evening. A terrible plague has come upon us that makes the sane lose their minds. Edoma and her Daughters, along with the warriors, have ensured that anyone who bore the signs has been imprisoned." Idmaer paused, adjusting the First Priest's medallion at his neck. "My condolences for those you have lost to the plague already. These were unavoidable casualties. If we learn that the plague cannot be cured, then the worst may happen."
Why did he always have to be so cold and unemotional?
A man Edoma recognized from the docks stood. "What will you do if we leave the temple? Will you have the warriors imprison us like they did our kin?"
A chorus of agreement broke out. People started to argue until it became so loud that Edoma could barely think.
Edoma put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. There was silence. "Leaving the temple tonight is out of the question," she said. "Without the wards you see on my face and the faces of others helping me, you will catch the plague."
Even so, a group of fishermen stood. The tugging hands of their wives and daughters were ignored. Their departure earned a few envious glances, but no one followed them.
Edoma shuffled through the people and stood next to Idmaer. The wards on his face still burned crimson, producing their own light.
He turned toward her. "Do you know of any other ways that we might determine who has become a skinwalker? The wards light up, but that is . . . insufficient."
Edoma glanced at the children at her feet. This wasn't the kind of thing to speak about where children could overhear. She took Idmaer to the kitchens since it was the only place not filled with people.
"There are scrying crystals that can detect wraiths within people," she said. "It takes the soul to another place—a world between worlds. But I cannot use it. There is a darkness inside it, a desire to consume completely. I fear if I was to enter that realm, I might not return." Why was she telling him this? It was more information that might lead to him learning that she was a mage.
"A librarian's apprentice shouldn't know all this," Idmaer said, confirming her fears. "You know of scrying crystals that take you to a world beyond our own. And the wards. Deep magic runs through these. What were you really when you were in Mundos?"
Edoma turned away. From the moment she'd first met him all those years ago, every time Idmaer had asked her a question about her past, she had evaded it. She had only ever given him snippets, and they were mostly inconsequential tidbits. Lies had been mostly avoided, but some had been necessary.
"You still have no knowledge of who shattered the orb?" Edoma asked, wanting to bring the conversation elsewhere. She doubted he would know any more than she did, but finding out who had done it was still important, although less so now that the wraiths had arrived.
"None at all." He appraised her with his gaze as if he had known her intention for asking the question. "Wulfnoth found no evidence at the altar, only the broken remnants of Aern's orb. When he was tracking the giant, he saw a caravan of about fifty people traveling along the southwestern road. He
thought them from Winhurst. If true, I can't understand why the city's signal fires weren't lit."
"The wraiths must have come in large numbers. I was perfecting the wards so that when the beacons were lit, I could ward all the major buildings in Indham. Winhurst's beacons might have saved those who became skinwalkers tonight."
"You mean their possession is final?"
Edoma nodded mournfully. "I know of no cure. What they once were, the wraiths have snuffed out. We can execute those we've captured in warded zones. Either that or we can wait until morning. The wraiths disintegrate when within warded zones. As creatures of the night, they also cannot remain in this world during the day."
"They die?"
Edoma sniffed. "That would be too easy. No, they just go elsewhere."
"Where?"
Edoma shrugged. She had told him most of what she knew about the wraiths. They used the skinwalkers as hosts to walk in the mortal world in places they could not otherwise go. It was only carcaern orbs that kept both wraiths and skinwalkers out. And those didn't exactly grow on trees. She'd never heard of an orb being replaced. Even though it had been twenty years, Mundos was likely as desolate as the Scorched Lands. Probably overrun with creatures of the dark and other foul things that the wraiths didn't care to torment.
"Let's hope that the warriors made it to Eosorheim before the wraiths came," Idmaer said.
Feeling her hands grow sticky, Edoma rubbed them on her robes. "I fear the wards I painted on Alfric and the others were insufficient."
"What do you mean insufficient?" Idmaer's jaw clenched, and he clutched his medallion.
She struggled with the words that would suitably admit her oversight. How could she have known? Saega had told her that lamb's blood would suffice. It would be more appropriate to blame him than her.
"You used lamb's blood, but human blood is required," Idmaer said, answering his own question. "That's why they were insufficient." Anger boiled behind his eyes.
The Shattered Orb (Vagrant Souls Book 1) Page 10