The Unblessed Dead

by Rhiannon Frater

  “And take heart that your remaining child is a boy and cannot be a necromancer,” another says.

  “Ilyse was already tested and passed! Carrie hasn’t done anything to garner suspicion!”

  “The mere fact your daughters were born from the womb of a necromancer is enough,” Elder Alvus replies.

  “If you do not hold your tongue, you will be removed and dealt with by the Officer of Moral Conduct,” Elder Johan warns, his voice deepening with annoyance.

  My aunt lays her hand on my father’s arm and he reluctantly steps back, bowing his head in surrender.

  “He tried,” my sister says in awe. “I didn’t think he would.”

  “He loves us,” I reply. “I have never doubted that.”

  “But he won’t even speak of Angelina. Why?”

  I have no answer for her. It has always weighed heavily on me that he won’t mention our mother or sister. It’s as if they didn’t exist to him after what happened.

  “Who will bear witness for the accused, Ilyse Nott?” Elder Alvus calls out.

  I look toward my father. He was my witness before and I expect he will be again.

  Before he calls out, another voice says, “I will.”

  It’s Quade, pushing his way through the gathering of Crats. I’m startled to see him and wonder why he was allowed inside the Courtyard of the Accused.

  “You’re not one of us,” Elder Johan replies.

  “Technically, I am. I may not follow your religion, but as a property owner I am a citizen of the Atonement Settlement. I’m a Crat by purchase of Murrow House. You’re accusing these young ladies of terrible things on my property, so I want to see if you’re right or not.” Quade stops at my side, his hands thrust into his duster’s pockets.

  “It’s not our accusation,” Elder Johan retorts. “Prudence Wes-”

  “I know. I was there. I’ll witness for Ilyse Nott.”

  Why are you doing this, Quade?

  I’m an Undertaker. We assist necromancers, remember?

  The Elders cluster together, their murmurs louder than I suspect they realize. From witnessing my father’s excitement over Quade’s possible investments in the settlement, it’s apparent he has some clout even if he is a new arrival. The animated discussion among the Elders continues for a few minutes, and it’s obvious a few are opposed to Quade stepping forward.

  Finally, the Elders separate.

  “Master Quade Reed, we accept your request to witness for Ilyse.” Shifting his gaze away from Quade, Elder Johan continues, “Who will witness for Carrie Nott?”

  “I will,” my aunt says before my father can speak up.

  Carrie and I are both surprised. This time there isn’t a discussion as to whether or not my aunt can fulfill the role of witness for my sister. It’s within her right, even though she’s a secondary citizen due to her gender.

  Aunt Leticia strides toward us, her thin face pale, yet fierce. At first I think she’s angry with us, but then I notice the tears brimming in her eyes. Guilt billows up inside my chest. I failed to consider that she’s already lost a sister and niece. She’s always so dour it’s far too easy to believe she’s uncaring. When she reaches us, she rests her palms against our cheeks. She doesn’t say a word, but her trembling fingers and pained expression projects the love that she never vocalizes. After a beat, she drops her hands and steps to Carrie’s side.

  “Necromancy is against the order of nature and therefore, against Three Gods. The Mother, Father, and Child do not abide such dark magic,” Elder Johan intones. “We must never allow evil forces to invade the Atonement Settlement, or we will lose our divine blessing.”

  My fear is not as suffocating as the first time I stood and heard these same words. Anger burns away the edges. I’m furious at Bale for forcing me into this situation, my heritage that may have made me a necromancer, and, much to my despair and guilt, my religion and its leaders. Maybe I deserve this, but Carrie doesn’t.

  What happens in there, Ilyse?

  We stand on platforms in the middle of a corral and they let the Unblessed enter. They lower the platforms a little every hour, and wait for us to control the Unblessed when we become too afraid.

  And if you don’t?

  It hurts. A lot.

  Out of the corner of my eye, Quade cocks his head to stare at me in disbelief.

  “…may the Three Gods have mercy on your souls,” Elder Johan finishes.

  The recollection of what comes next roots me to where I stand. I don’t want to be taken through those metal doors and I certainly don’t want my sister to be. I dig my heels into the ground, casting a fearful look at Quade seconds before the wardens are dispatched to claim me and Carrie. In their right hands they wield shortened versions of the control poles. Our Pious Standing will remain intact until we’re found guilty, so the wardens cannot touch us.

  “Don’t resist,” my aunt whispers. “Heads up, walk forward. Don’t give them the pleasure of seeing Harris Nott’s daughters on the end of a pole.”

  Still holding my hand, Carrie walks forward with her chin at a defiant angle, reminding me of Angelina. I wish I was so bold. At first it’s hard to get my feet to follow, since fear has pinned them to the ground. When they do start to move, they feel heavy and awkward. The wardens fall in beside us, while Aunt Leticia and Quade take up the rear. The strong metal doors roll back, groaning and creaking. I step out of the last light of the day into the shadow of the dais. The gloomy interior of the testing area is humid and smells of rot.

  “This is disturbing,” Quade declares to no one in particular.

  The testing area is a large corral encircled by a high metal wall. A catwalk borders the rim and two platforms are on either side of the enclosure. Rising out of the floor are four scaffold towers currently raised to match the height of the catwalk. Using the levers on the platforms, where the wardens and witnesses observe the accused, the scaffolding can be raised or lowered. On the far end of the room are the large sliding doors that open to allow the Unblessed to enter.

  Carrie’s fingers press hard into my palm and she throws a frightened look in my direction as we’re ushered up a metal stairway to the catwalk.

  “This looks ominous,” Quade mutters behind us.

  It becomes harder to breathe the closer I get to the top of the steps. Panic seizes me and I come to a halt. Carrie turns toward me, concerned, while my aunt slips her arm around my shoulders. Between the two of them, they manage to hoist me up the last few steps.

  “I can’t do this again,” I breathlessly exclaim to my aunt.

  Aunt Leticia waves off the wardens and takes hold of my shoulders. “You have to do this, Ilyse, for your future. I know you’re scared but you can do this.”

  “What is the delay?” Elder Johan and the other Elders ascend the steps, the metal clanging loudly.

  My aunt kisses my cheek and whispers in my ear, “Don’t give in to fear.”

  “The accused need to take their places now,” a warden with a too-red face and eager eyes tells my aunt.

  I hug Carrie. “Be strong.”

  “You, too,” she answers.

  The tap of a control pole on my back indicates the wardens are impatient. I reluctantly release my sister and follow the warden. Quade trails in my wake, his manner unsure and nervous.

  “What do I do as a witness?” Quade asks one of the wardens.

  “Your role is to observe the accused. That’s it,” the warden answers.

  In other words, if I show necromancer powers, you’re the witness at my trial.

  “So I watch to see if she’s guilty or not,” Quade says to the warden.

  The warden gives him a disapproving look. “If you followed our ways, you wouldn’t be asking about the role you volunteered for.”

  “To follow your ways, maybe I need to understand them more,” Quade replies with a cocky grin.

  The warden disregards him. Stepping up to where multiple gears are located on a platform, he pulls one down and
a gangway descends from the rafters high above our heads. When it’s parallel with the catwalk and one of the scaffold towers, he stops its descent, and pulls another lever so it swings into place to connect the two.

  On the verge of hyperventilating, I struggle to breathe in the warm air. The wardens motion me to the gangway and it takes every ounce of willpower to step onto it. It sways slightly under my feet, so I clutch the railing on either side.

  You can do this, Ilyse.

  Pulling myself along, my body quakes with small tremors. I feel nauseous and swallow hard against the need to gag. A warden follows me, his boots clanging loudly. When I finally reach the small platform at the top of the tower, I reluctantly step onto it. My hands quickly find the rail that wraps around three sides while the warden bends to pick up the harness I must wear around my waist. I’m glad he’s not the bad-tempered one who remained at the gears.

  “Don’t take this off. If you fall asleep, you might fall off the tower. If you’re innocent, you’ll definitely want to keep this on for safety reasons,” the warden informs me.

  “It’s the only thing that kept them from dragging me off the last time,” I reply.

  The warden gives me a startled look, but says nothing as he buckles the harness around my waist, careful to not touch me. The weight of the chains pulls at my hips and bunches my dress when he lets go.

  Looking over at the next tower, I see Carrie being secured in the same manner. She meets my gaze and doesn’t even attempt to hide her terror. Her eyes are wide, and her face very, very pale.

  From the main platform, the Elders observe the proceedings. I hate their satisfied expressions and haughty demeanors. I remember Angelina screaming curses at them when she’d been secured to the tower. I don’t dare do the same. I want to survive long enough to escape with Quade. I could never dare to go over the wall alone like my older sister did.

  “Ilyse Nott is secured.”

  “Carrie Nott is secured.”

  “Secure the last one,” Elder Johan instructs.

  The shocked silence that follows is only broken when the loop of a control pole closes over my aunt’s head.

  Chapter 12

  The Necromancer Trial

  “No!”

  Carrie and my screams of protest blend together as my aunt is forced onto the gangway leading to one of the other towers. Our cries echo in this vast room.

  Spinning about, Aunt Leticia finds the control pole loop around her neck with her hands and forces it over her head before it tightens. Pointing a shaking finger at the wardens, she says, “Don’t touch me! I will go willingly!”

  My father appears at the top of the steps with several wardens in pursuit. “You can’t do this! She’s not accused!”

  The wardens move to seize him, but Elder Alvus gestures for them to stand down.

  This is worrying.

  I shoot Quade an annoyed look.

  This is more than worrying, Quade.

  “We are correcting an oversight,” Elder Johan proclaims. “She’s the sister of a necromancer and never properly tested.”

  “She’s never been accused! There has never been cause to suspect her,” my father insists.

  Elder Johan squares his shoulders beneath his cloak and imperiously stares down at my father. “The basis of the accusation, which I am leveling against Leticia Nott, is that her sister was a necromancer and her nieces have been accused of necromancy. This sin runs in the blood of the women of her family. If she is innocent, she has nothing to fear.”

  My father’s face reddens with fury. “Nothing to fear? Ilyse still wears the scars from the Unblessed attack on her when she was tested before. My eldest daughter was so traumatized by the test she fled into the Deadlands. I don’t dare entertain the hope she might have survived. How can you do this without evidence?”

  “The evidence is your dead wife’s necromancy,” Elder Johan retorts with the arrogant lift of his chin.

  While the two men argue, Aunt Leticia walks to the platform and secures the safety harness about her without any assistance. My aunt watches the discussion with a face carved of stone, yet I somehow sense that she’s frightened and angry. I never realized how deep her love and compassion flowed in her heart until this moment. Tilting her head toward me, she gives me a feeble smile.

  The heated exchange between my father and the Elders comes to an end when Elder Johan says, “The accusation is made. Leticia Nott will be tested. This leaves Carrie Nott without a witness. Will you be your daughter’s witness? This is the only way you can remain, Harris.”

  I’ve never seen my father so shaken in my entire life. He nods mutely. “I will.”

  “Who will stand witness for Leticia Nott?” Elder Johan asks, his gaze sweeping over the other Elders.

  “I will stand witness,” Elder Alvus declares stepping forward.

  This pronouncement is unsettling. Elder Alvus has always intimidated me with his piercing gaze and judgmental demeanor. His disapproving gaze and condescending tone are his natural state of being. The only time I’ve seen him smile was when Angelina screamed at the Elders when she was dragged into the testing area. Was it because she was afraid? Or because he thought he’d captured a necromancer?

  “Wardens, are the accused secure?” Elder Johan asks while he and the other Elders begin to move toward the stairs to exit. Watching them depart makes me want to scream. They’re condemning us to hell, but aren’t even brave enough to watch from their lofty perch.

  “The accused are secure,” comes the reply.

  “Open the doors and let the Unblessed inside.” With those final words, Elder Johan disappears from view as he descends the stairs to the exit.

  The sound of protesting metal is accompanied by the creak of the large gears churning. The thick metal doors at the far end of the room begin to lift. The stink of death flows into the warm room and my stomach lurches. The wardens on the catwalk secure masks over their mouths and nose to blot out the stench. One tries to hand a mask to Quade, but he brushes it away.

  “If the women have to endure it, so will I,” he says.

  The noise of many feet shuffling reverberates through the large enclosure. An unearthly keening starts with one voice and blooms into a loud disharmony. The Unblessed scrabble against rising doors with their decayed hands, and the increasing noise shatters what’s left of my resolve. With a hiccupping cry, I cover my mouth with my hands in an attempt to stave off the need to scream.

  “I can’t do this!” Carrie’s loud cry of despair draws my attention to her. “I was wrong. I’m not this strong!”

  “Carrie, you can. Don’t look at them. Don’t let fear take over,” Aunt Leticia answers. “Ilyse, do the same.”

  At the tower to my right, Carrie sinks to the floor and wraps her arms around her legs before hiding her face against her knees. Threading her fingers through her blond hair, she rocks back and forth.

  I want to close my eyes and pretend this isn’t happening again, but I can’t. My gaze is pinned to the doors inching upward. Gas lamps along the walls shed pale illumination over the vast area, but the floor of the enclosure remains shrouded in shadows.

  I miss when the first of the Unblessed slip into the gloom, so I scream when sharp bangs ring out and the tower vibrates beneath my feet.

  They’re small. Kids. Don’t panic.

  I peer over the edge of the platform and can barely discern the small faces turned upward to growl at me.

  The doors clang to a stop. The crowd of Unblessed surges forward in a wave of gray skin and tattered clothes. My aunt lets out a gasp of fright. Her tower is the closest to the doors, but she’s not immediately visible to the Unblessed. The towers that Carrie and I are perched on are directly in their line of sight. The air trembles with the reverberation of so many feet shuffling over the wooden floor. My fingers ache from the fierce grip I have on the railing and I force myself to loosen it. The Unblessed swarm around my tower and Carrie’s, their hands slapping against the metal sheetin
g that protects the base.

  “Close the doors!” a warden orders.

  I look toward the gaping entrance to catch a glimpse of the corral on the outside of the wall where the Unblessed are herded for the test. It’s nearly empty, but something odd catches my eye. One figure stands just outside the door shrouded in a dark cape and hood.

  Excited, I turn toward Quade.

  Did you see that, Quade?

  What?

  A person outside in the corral.

  Quade cranes his head to study the descending doors. Forehead bunched in consternation, he shakes his head.

  I don’t see anyone.

  I look back, and the figure is gone.

  They were just there, Quade. I saw someone.

  Are you sure?

  My stomach flutters and I feel queasy. The stench is so bad I cover my nose and mouth with my hand. I stare at the swarm of Unblessed. Some are aimlessly wandering around, others are determined to somehow scale the tower to reach me, and the rest split between the towers my aunt and sister are on. The mass below churns with activity, but none of the Unblessed are standing still to observe their surroundings. None are acting like the person I spotted.

  Yes, I’m sure I saw someone. A person. A necromancer.

  I don’t sense one, but that doesn’t mean one isn’t nearby. If she’s strong enough, she can hide her presence.

  Would she be from the Chantry?

  If she was, I would know she’s here. She could be a rogue. The Republic has also been trying to recruit necromancers.

  So we can’t be sure she’s here to help.

  No, we can’t. I’ll keep an eye out for anything that looks like interference.

  I’m grateful that Quade is nearby and that we can speak without being noticed. It helps quell the dread threatening to drown me and distracts me from the roiling mass of Unblessed moaning for my blood.

  Even over the ruckus, I can hear Carrie sobbing. Her thin frame looks so tiny and child-like on the platform to my right. My father sits on the witness bench speaking to her. I see his mouth moving but can’t hear his words. He’s probably trying to console my sister. She doesn’t give any indication she can hear him.