Three men emerged. Two were ruddy and unshaven, short and stout, greasy hair and daggers hanging from belts. One carried a large canvas sack. The third man, obviously the leader, was a few inches taller, with a braided black beard and a receding hairline. He wore an eye patch, and the way his other eye rolled around in his skull gave Prinn the creeps. She knew from the description that this was Garth.
“Lord Giffen sends his compliments,” Garth said.
“I don’t want his compliments,” Prinn said. “I just want this over with.”
“It soon will be,” Garth assured her. “And as promised, no harm will come to your aunt or cousins.”
“And the money?”
A snorting laugh from Garth. He reached into a satchel slung over his shoulder, came out with a heavy bag that clinked with coin and tossed it to Prinn. “You brought something from her?”
Prinn handed him three strands of black hair. “From her brush.”
“Good enough.” Garth took the strands and nodded to the henchman who carried the canvas sack.
He carefully set the sack on the ground, opened it, and lifted out a large earthenware pot. The lid was sealed with wax. The henchman set the pot on the floor and then backed away quickly as if it were a coiled snake.
Garth knelt next to the pot and flipped open a small gentleman’s blade. He cut open the wax seal and removed the lid. He dropped the hairs into the pot and then slowly stood and backed away.
At first nothing happened.
Prinn wasn’t sure what to expect. All she knew was that they were all standing around looking at a pot.
A black glow grew from the open pot.
Black light? Is that even possible? It’s dark and glowing at the same time.
Prinn blinked and flinched. The light was hard to look at. It hurt her head.
An oily black smoke rose from the pot, swirled, and began to take form.
Prinn took in a sharp breath. She tried to back up, but something stopped her, and she realized her back was already against the wall. Her eyes darted to the door. She contemplated making a run for it, but her feet were frozen to the floor.
The oily smoke congealed and became nearly solid for a split second. It was long enough for Prinn to glimpse it.
A huge figure emerged, its head almost touching the ceiling. Long arms with gnarled claws. Its face was stretched out, lower jaw showing curved tusks, horns like a ram sprouting from its head. Its eyes seemed to leach away all light and warmth.
A palpable and immediate dread filled the room.
Prinn opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out. Terror’s cold grip immobilized her. She had the overwhelming urge to pee and was surprised when she didn’t. Her arms and legs felt numb and leaden.
As quick as the creature had formed, it dissolved back into roiling smoke and bled away beneath the door and into the castle.
Prinn’s heart beat so hard her chest hurt.
“The stalker demon is unleashed and off on its fell errand,” Garth said grimly.
Prinn trembled.
Dumo save us. What have I done?
***
EPISODE TWO
CHAPTER NINE
A knock.
“Come in,” Rina said.
Arbert entered the private anteroom adjacent to Rina’s bedchamber. He carried an armload of large, rolled parchments. “I wasn’t sure which map you wanted, milady,” he said, “so I brought them all.”
“That’s fine, Arbert. Bring them to the table.”
Alem and Brasley gathered around the table. Rina sorted the maps until she found the one she wanted. She unrolled it and looked at Alem. “Show me.”
“Here.” Alem tapped a spot on the map just north of Crossroads. He trailed his finger west across the map. “And they fled in this direction.”
Rina tsked. “A pity you couldn’t get the other one.”
Alem cleared his throat and shrugged awkwardly. “Sorry.”
“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Perhaps some refreshment while we discuss this?” Brasley suggested.
Lilly leapt up from her stool in the corner. “I could fetch a pot of tea, milady.”
Brasley cleared his throat pointedly. “I think we could all use something a little stronger, don’t you?”
Lilly’s eyes shifted from Brasley to Rina.
“A pitcher of wine,” Rina said. “A big one.”
The maid dipped a quick curtsy then scurried away.
“What’s that area here?” Alem tapped the area west of Crossroads. “I came home south of there when I returned from our little vacation. It’s not part of Klaar. Does some other duchy claim it?”
“Some scattered flatland villages,” Rina said. “Unclaimed, I think. There’s nothing much of value there. A lord might claim it for the farmlands. On the other hand, a lord might ignore it if he didn’t want a bunch of extra peasants to feed.”
“I can’t imagine why the Perranese would want to go there, but that’s the way the rider was headed,” Alem said.
Rina tapped a different part of the map. “Or he could have doubled back and turned north up past Trapper Village and on to the coast. If the Perranese have landed another force, it would make sense that they’d send out scouts.”
“You’ve got coast watchers,” Brasley pointed out. “Have any of them seen anything?”
“No, actually,” Rina admitted. “And I sent Zin up to spy on Ferrigan’s Tower, but all seems well.”
“Who’s Zin?” Alem asked.
“The falcon.” Rina’s hand came up automatically to the tattoos around her eyes. Most of the castle dwellers were used to seeing them by now, the tiny feathers at the corners of her eyes like dark teardrops and the tight, neatly printed runes under each eye like garishly applied makeup. New people still did double takes, not sure what they were seeing.
The tattoo bound the falcon to her, a familiar. She could see through its eyes.
“You named the falcon Zin?” Brasley looked amused.
“No. It’s his name.”
“How do you know that?” Alem asked.
“I—” She realized she hadn’t thought about it before. “I don’t know. One day I just knew his name. Look, the point is that I sent him to check the tower, and we haven’t heard anything from the coast watchers. I think we can rule out problems coming from that direction.”
“Can we?” Brasley asked. “I mean, we don’t really know anything, do we? There are miles and miles of coastline. That rider could have gone off in any direction once we lost sight of him. He could be scouting for an invasion force, or he could be a deserter who was left behind. We can guess and wonder, but we know nothing.”
The hard truth hung in the air a moment.
He’s right, Rina thought. If Father were here, he’d know what to do. But it’s just me.
“What would you suggest?” Rina asked.
Brasley pointed at himself, eyes going wide. “Me? I have no idea. Did I accidentally give you the impression I was helpful? I’m just waiting for your girl to return with the wine.”
Alem scowled at him. “At least he admits it.”
“Okay, shut up, the both of you,” Rina said. “I’m sending a dozen men to sweep south and west through the forest in the direction the solider was fleeing—and yes, I know he could have turned off in any direction, but I don’t have enough men to search the entire duchy. Anyone object to that?”
Alem and Brasley looked at each other and then shook their heads.
“Okay, then,” Rina said.
“I know the spot. I can lead the men on the search if you want,” Brasley said.
“You most certainly will not.” Rina offered him a tight smile. “We have guests coming. Remember?”
Brasley suddenly looked ill. “Oh yeah.”
Lilly entered, carrying a tray with a pitcher and goblets. “Sorry it took so long, milady.”
“Never mind,” Rina told her. “Just set the tray over—”
Rina gasped, stepping back. All heads turned. Brasley muttered a startled oath and drew his sword.
The oily black smoke loomed over Lilly and formed briefly into a hideous shape, a black figure with tusks and horns, long gangly arms, fingers ending in razor claws. For a split second, the smoke creature looked almost solid.
Lilly looked up and dropped the tray, terror seizing her. She opened her mouth to scream.
The grotesque figure dissolved into smoke again and plunged into the maid’s open mouth.
“Lilly!” Rina screamed.
Lilly went rigid as the dark smoke filled her up. Her eyes went completely black, a dark light boiling out from within her. The maid’s expression changed from terror to fury in an eyeblink.
She tossed her head back and vomited the dark smoke into the air.
The smoke circled the room once then headed straight for Alem.
“Shit!” Alem threw himself on the floor and rolled under the table.
The smoke turned abruptly, split into two streams, and stabbed deep into Arbert’s eyes like black daggers. His scream turned into a guttural growl as his eyes turned black, his face a savage mask.
Lilly and Arbert advanced on Brasley, growling like animals, hands up to claw him.
“I’m sorry, Rina, I’m going to have to kill your maid,” Brasley shouted.
“It’s not her anymore!” Rina said.
Brasley thrust his rapier through Lilly’s gut. The strike had no effect. The wild maid drove the blade deeper as she pressed forward trying to grab Brasley, teeth snapping to bite him.
“She won’t die!” Brasley backed against the table, brought a foot up to kick her away.
Arbert leapt at him from the other direction, but Alem slammed into him with a flying tackle, both going over in a heap.
Rina tapped into the spirit and in less than a heartbeat was across the room, where her rapier hung on the wall. She drew the sword and spun, swinging in one smooth motion.
The blade passed through the smoke creature, leaving swirling eddies in its wake.
A black hand formed solid and latched onto her wrist with strength as cold as iron. Rina gasped in surprise.
It’s fast!
When tapped into the spirit, Rina had full control of her body, every reflex. The lightning-bolt tattoos on her ankles made her faster than a running horse. In battle, the quickest, strongest warrior seemed no more than a stumbling toddler to her. But this smoke monster was every bit as quick as she was.
She swung her sword at the hand holding her. The blade bit deep, and she felt resistance as if striking flesh, but the resistance immediately vanished as the hand melted back into smoke.
It has to turn solid to get me, but then it’s vulnerable.
She swung the sword wildly in front of her to keep the thing at bay.
Across the room, Brasley and Alem struggled to fend off Lilly and Arbert. Rina’s maid and secretary had become mindless killing machines. Arbert was on top of Alem on the floor, clawing at his face and trying to bite him. Alem had a forearm jammed in Arbert’s throat, trying to push him away.
Brasley managed to kick Lilly off of his blade, and she stumbled back. He swung again, cutting a deep gash across her cheek. She didn’t flinch, seemed not even to feel it.
“Any guesses how to kill them?” Brasley shouted. “I’m open to suggestions.”
Rina had no time for Brasley’s question. Two hands formed solid from the smoke and latched on to her throat, the claws digging into the flesh of her neck. She felt hot blood flow and trickle down her back. Her skin sizzled where the claws pierced her skin.
Some part of her felt panic, but she locked it away.
She swung the rapier, but only the creature’s hands were solid, and she didn’t have an angle to strike at them. She dropped the sword and grasped the hands choking her, using the strength of the bull tattoo to pry away the fingers around her throat.
Rina couldn’t budge the hands at all. The monster was every bit as strong as she was. Stronger.
Lilly screamed animal fury and leapt at Brasley again.
Brasley thrust high, the tip of his rapier sinking into her left eye. He drove it in another six inches.
One of Brasley’s strikes finally seemed to have some impact.
Lilly went rigid, mouth working soundlessly. She slid off of Brasley’s blade and hit the floor with a thud. A thin tendril of black smoke oozed from her wounded eye and drifted away into nothingness.
Brasley spun and rushed to Alem. He kicked Arbert off him, and the secretary rolled onto his back, hissing up at Brasley. Arbert’s eyes seemed to drink the light and give back some impossible black glow.
Brasley stabbed him through one eye, driving his sword tip to the back of the man’s skull.
Arbert arched his back violently in a shock of pain, froze that way for a moment before going limp. Brasley withdrew his blade, and again the smoke rose from the wound like the remnant of some black soul.
Rina tried again to pry the hands away from her throat, but it was impossible. He mouth worked for breath. She felt her face going hot, and her vision began to go dark, bright dots flashing in front of her eyes.
Since she was tapped into the spirit, she had perfect control, perfect calm. I can’t breathe. I have maybe twenty seconds left. Do something. Anything.
She peeled the glove off her left hand and tossed it aside.
Rina grabbed one of the monstrous hands holding her throat and held on tight.
The skeletal tattoo made contact and Rina’s entire body exploded with dark energy. She felt herself fill up with darkness, her insides painted with some greasy coating. A hard, cold knot grew in her chest. It spread like ice through her limbs, to the tips of her fingers and toes. She felt sick, stomach pinching, mouth going dry with some bitter taste.
Rina was vaguely aware of Alem and Brasley yelling to her, but their voices seemed distant, trying to reach her through some cottony haze.
Darkness swallowed her eyes, and she felt herself falling down an endless dark pit and finally plunging into cold and formless depths, screaming, trying to claw her way back, kicking against the currents that pulled her down below the surface of reality.
CHAPTER TEN
Jariko’s eyes popped open. It took him a moment to realize he was on the floor of his room in the shabby inn, the side of his face scraping against the rough, unpolished wood.
He sat up and blinked, rubbed something red and sticky beneath his nose. Blood. It had flowed down into the braided white moustaches that fell to the middle of his chest. The old wizard was thin and bony, so he wore extra layers of fur against the cold, which had helped cushion his fall when he’d passed out.
He was aware of somebody pounding on the door, Prullap’s voice shouting for his attention. “Jariko! Jariko, what’s happening?”
Jariko rose on unsteady legs and stumbled to the door, slid the bolt back, and swung it open.
Prullap rushed inside, puffing, round face red. “I heard you scream. I was about to call soldiers to come knock the door down.”
“My bond with the stalker demon was cut abruptly,” Jariko said.
Prullap nodded. “That would do it. You’re okay?”
Jariko stumbled back across the room and plopped down onto a hard wooden chair. “Shaken but fine. The demon has been destroyed.”
“And what of its mission?” Prullap asked. “Is the duchess dead?”
Jariko closed his eyes and tried to recall what he felt before the link was severed. He’d summoned the demon and so had a bond with it, but it wasn’t like a bond with a familiar, nothing so deep or permanent. He couldn’t see through the demon’s eyes or hear through its ears. The wizard could get a sense of it, though, the gist of emotions and feelings. What had the demon felt before it had been destroyed?
Fear. Confusion. Pain.
Failure.
Jariko sighed. “Rina Veraiin lives.”
Prullap tsked, scratched absently at his neatl
y trimmed black beard. “I suppose the commander will have to be informed.”
Jariko knew what the younger wizard was thinking. With the stalker demon’s failure, Commander Tchi might want them to try something else, something more up close and personal.
Something dangerous.
Jariko and Prullap had heard the reports of Duchess Veraiin’s powers.
An ink mage. I’d thought such things had faded into legend until I met Ankar. He was powerful, yet the duchess killed him.
The two Perranese wizards were formidable, but who could guess what the girl might be capable of? Jariko wanted nothing to do with her. He wished he’d never crossed the sea to this frozen shit hole. Not that he’d had a choice. Jariko served at the pleasure of the emperor, like everyone else.
Jariko stood, his knees creaking. The weather the past week had begun to warm, but he still hated this place.
“Come,” he told Prullap. “Let’s see if we can talk some sense into our young Commander Tchi.”
***
Commander Tchi stood at the second-story window of the small room he’d taken as his office and watched the wizards come, crunching through the dirty snow. Their posture and demeanor indicated they were bringing a headache. He was inclined to dislike and distrust their sort anyway. Wizards were schemers. At least that was their reputation.
Tchi’s room was in the village’s town hall, the largest—and the only two-story—building in the village. He and his officers had taken the building for themselves after the wizards had blasted open the gate to the village’s palisade. The gate had been repaired, and Tchi and his men had ridden out the long winter in relative—very relative—comfort. Better than bivouacking on the open plain and being constantly lashed by the bitter wind.
The minor lord who’d led the defense of the village had been executed, his men put into chains. The rest of the population had been routinely subjugated. As ordered, Tchi had subdued the flatlands west of Klaar.
Not that it mattered.
The Tattooed Duchess (A Fire Beneath the Skin Book 2) Page 5