by T. A. Miles
Those were the topics of interest to him early into his priesthood, and they had kept him in the seminary library for hours on end. For all of his years there, he still had not uncovered everything there was to uncover.
And, currently, there was a manor to uncover, and the whereabouts of three priests and the army they had come to aid. Korsten imagined that included any horses that had been on the battlefield. He suspected that Tahlia would not have been able to borrow one from the people of Endmark, had she asked. The room they had received at the inn seemed all the assistance they were willing to offer, and that they were yet wary of having provided even that, since many of them still wanted to hold whoever was keeping watch over them to their word, that they would be left alone and allowed to rebuild. It may have even been that hostages were being held and that reunion had been promised for their cooperation.
Merran’s theory that the residents were being used to ward people off was sounder when applied to the average passerby. But whomever had begun this affair with the people of Endmark must have known that if anyone wiser to the larger picture were to arrive, they would not be fooled by so meager a display of life.
The display before them now was, again, far from meager. The steps were wide and evenly spaced, delving soon into the trees and along a slope that was traced by a narrow stream of water. Along the way, urns were placed, though they stood untended and had only the brown remains of overgrowth or stagnant water to boast.
The landing at the top was flanked by two statues. Grass stretched between a row of conifer trees, to a fountain without life and on toward what appeared merely another guardhouse. It was a larger one than the first. Behind it lay the extension of a yard in ruins, and a heavy mist textured with the boughs of trees. Examining the scene revealed no structure hidden within it; no towers peeking through, no windows catching a reflection …no traces of architecture of any kind to offset the pattern of the forest.
Korsten found the emptiness more disappointing than unsettling. “I honestly expected that we would find something more.”
“So, did I,” Tahlia admitted.
Merran took steps toward the guardhouse to further examine the area. When he passed beneath the building’s open archway, Korsten decided to follow. Tahlia fell in step soon afterward.
There were two sides to the structure: a stable and barracks. Within the house itself was a dusty floor and sparse furnishings that had weathered poorly, including a desk and weapons rack. Mildew and other staining growth had spread diligently along the edges of the walls. Debris cracked underfoot, much of it sourcing from outside in the form of leaves and twigs.
Merran checked a nearby door and Korsten walked across the room to the entry through which lay a room lined with simple beds. The windows were cluttered with old growth and webbing.
“There’s a stair over here,” Tahlia announced.
Korsten retreated from the entry to the barracks and joined his colleagues at the front office’s adjacent corner. Tahlia’s door had opened onto a darkened corridor which swiftly descended into blackness.
Tahlia headed down. Korsten cast a Lantern and followed, with Merran immediately behind him. The steps bent on their descent, turning them north and landing them in a cellar whose most prominent feature was a rough stone entry to an underground passage.
“Familiar,” Merran commented.
“Quite,” Korsten answered with a sigh of resignation.
Tahlia didn’t ask them for specific information just yet, and they proceeded onward.
As with Ergen’s house, the passage was formed of a cave that had been loosely adapted to usefulness by whomever may have had need of the space. There were candles set into small alcoves, though none were lit. The tunnel maintained the aspect of a corridor for some time, though it eventually opened to obscured daylight. The sound of water could be heard well before they arrived at what turned out to be a bridge spanning a river gorge. The walls were excessively steep and confined, and appeared to have multiple offshoots. Studying it, the construct appeared more an exposed cave than a gorge, as if an underground river had merely benefitted from a narrow crack in the earth above it. The water moved slowly through natural columns of stone and was bedded the equivalent of several stories below the bridge.
The bridge itself was of stone, possibly carved from the natural rock. To either side of the bridge, on the near side, were mounted statues of stags posed as if they verged on butting heads with each other. At the far end, stood a tall door, fronted by shallow stairs formed of an artful stacking of cut stone.
“I think that we’ve discovered the manor house after all,” Korsten said.
“Is it typical for them to be built underground?” Tahlia asked, though as if the answer to her question was plainly obvious. And it was.
However, “If the ruling family of Endmark has been affected for some time,” Korsten replied, “driven to irrational behavior …such an endeavor could have been started generations ago.”
“The original house may have been leveled to divert notice,” Merran suggested.
Tahlia seemed willing to accept that theory, except for one detail. “Yes, but if it had been burned, the townspeople would have noticed the smoke. And Phyodar said that he didn’t.”
Merran’s ensuing expression was to suggest that maybe Phyodar, or someone else, had noticed.
Tahlia let out a breath of exasperation in reply.
Korsten shared in her frustration, however he couldn’t be overly offended. The obstinacy of the people of Endmark had become tiring, but he did understand it. He understood also, why Merran had made a habit of being only direct with the people he encountered. No one was aided by a lack of information where the Vadryn were concerned.
•—•
The door to the underground manor opened with minimal coaxing. It was somewhat jammed, but no locks had been implemented. On the other side was a room remarkably furnished. It appeared as the foyer of any grand house and Korsten began to wonder if the underground fortress wasn’t in actuality an unearthed relic—that his original theory of a refurbished house was true, but that the house itself was not what anyone would have expected. It reminded him of the citadel at Vassenleigh, also built largely into and of the rock that overlooked the region.
There were no stairs to be seen immediately, which was the largest difference between this hall and one that would be found in any other house of such grandeur. But this manor may not have had anything in the way of traditional stories. The whole of it may have networked laterally, barring access to the surface.
At a table in the center of the room, the reason for a lack of deterrent against entering the house became apparent. A letter lay in plain view upon the surface, arranged directly beneath an ornate lantern depicting trees not unlike the tall and narrow giants of the northern forests. Their bronze branches connected along the top, while the base was comprised of their roots. The glass windows between trees were tinted amber.
Merran was the one to lift the parchment from the tabletop. “It’s addressed to you,” he announced, delivering Korsten an inquiring gaze ahead of the letter.
“How is it that Izwendel knows who you are?” Tahlia wanted to know.
The letter was simple enough.
Priest-Adept Korsten of the Vassenleigh Order,
I know why you’ve come to Endmark. You may consider yourself my guest. I only ask that you please do me the honor of calling upon me at my observatory before long.
Leodyn Izwendel, Lord of Endmark
In reply to Tahlia, Korsten said, “I can’t think of any specific reason that he would know me, beyond affiliations of a darker nature.” Though his words were given to Tahlia, his gaze was directed at Merran, whose stitched brow and set jaw were all that was required to demonstrate his aggravation and worry, which they shared.
Seeking to include herself in their mutual concern, Tah
lia asked, “What do you mean?”
“He means that the demon behind what’s happening here might well have been the same as the one who destroyed Haddowyn, and who we suspect has taken Feidor’s Crest.” While Merran delivered the answer, he began to look around the hall, possibly for further evidence that they were expected by the resident lord. “Regardless, if this Lord Endmark has been hiding himself here, we have to expect that he’s—at the very least—not entirely sane. If he’s responsible for any of what’s happened, we can be assured that he’s versed in wild magic and that he’s in league with the Vadryn. He may also simply be one of them.”
“That will probably not reveal itself immediately,” Tahlia said, contributing her own experience.
Merran agreed in silence. Though he did look toward Korsten once more, and in that, Korsten knew that his partner was relying on Allurance to provide some assistance. Though, Korsten had to wonder whether or not Merran also felt concerned that the talent would bring the Vadryn to them. Maybe it had been doing so all along.
It was the constant risk that the Superiors hoped would become an invaluable tool. It had indeed drawn people and demons. And it had fulfilled expectations, in that it had enabled Korsten to gain some bearing on the disposition of individuals, on top of encouraging those individuals to want to negotiate with him. Their desire or their curiosity—whichever it was in any given situation—had thus far provided Korsten with opportunity. The talent enhanced and heightened the possibility of rapport. It was a long way off from a controlled strategy, however.
“I’m opposed to answering this,” Merran finally said.
Korsten nodded, and agreed, but it was important to note one thing. “If Endmark is one of the Vadryn, he won’t take well to being ignored for a prolonged period.”
“No,” Merran admitted simply, his frown deepening. The entanglements in the logic that came of being partnered with an enthraller were always the most antagonizing to him. He preferred simple solutions to dealing with the Vadryn directly.
“Do we leave, then?” Tahlia asked, though her tone suggested she would rather they find a way around retreat so early into their infiltration of what was plainly an enemy fortress.
“How are you feeling?” Merran asked her.
She took the letter and cast Fire to it. “Getting better, I think.”
Korsten raised an eyebrow at her abruptness.
Merran took the demonstration for what it was: evidence of her recovery. “There are three of us present who can work a Reach if necessary, then.”
“And the potential of neutralizing spells?” Korsten asked in reminding them that it was a possibility.
Merran accepted the reminder and the possibility with a nod. “We’ll have to avoid them. We’re all aware of our limited resources. There’s no easier or better way to resolve Endmark’s situation. Four priests are all any of us are ever given during an assignment and oftentimes we work in pairs, or alone. The risks are high, but they always are, when dealing with the Vadryn. For my part, I’m proceeding with the task given to me, which is to learn what happened to the soldiers and our fellow agents.”
“There’s no need to ask of me,” Korsten said, on the chance that his devotion to resolving this affair was ever in doubt.
Tahlia gave a firm nod. “I’ve no intention of leaving without knowing what in Hell’s depths has been happening here, where our people are, and also not without taking down some of Morenne’s or the Vadryn’s numbers.”
“Let’s continue to explore, then,” Merran concluded. “As to Lord Endmark, if he wants to meet with any of us, I imagine he’ll get to that in his own time, once he realizes that no one is responding to his summons.”
Eighteen
They left the entry hall by way of a corridor lined with art and furniture, as if it were lived in. Off to the side of it were rooms, many of them furnished for daily existence and excessive comfort. Undoubtedly, all the furnishing of the abandoned or destroyed manor house had been moved into the underground mansion. Still, it was unsettling. Korsten also found it more than a little offsetting that he didn’t begin to feel comfortable with any of it, until he saw blood. Blood or carnage was what he expected to find, and quickly, since leaving the town and its few oppressed residents. The highly civilized display they were met with had been somewhat disarming.
And now, they had come upon a room of sparser furnishing than most of the others—a sitting room that was unfinished, perhaps—and upon its walls was evidence of murder. There was no body, only the spread of someone’s life, scored plaster, and a single toppled chair.
Venturing into the space revealed a frayed tapestry on one wall. It depicted a forest populated with animals, though the creatures were set into the trees in such a way that some searching was required to notice them. It reminded Korsten of similar pieces kept at his childhood home. His mother had always been very fond of northern themes and legends of ancient woods populated by animal spirits—mainly deer.
Korsten didn’t believe that such a land actually existed, and if it did, it was too far into Morenne, or on the other side of it altogether, and no one from Edrinor would ever see it. Still, as a child, Korsten had daydreamed of it frequently …and often to the frustration of his father, who would much rather he had given greater effort to more practical studies and to better hobbies than finding hiding places to sulk in. Not hiding had led to more demonstration of personality than Sethaniel could tolerate, however, and had also led to Korsten’s being sent to Haddowyn.
Taking his eyes from the tapestry, letting go any of the unpleasant memories that always tried to filter in to his already depressing dealings with the Vadryn, Korsten looked over the display of implied violence once again. Memories of the prison tower leaped forward, presenting Korsten with the possibility that this could have been where one or all of the captured priests may have been interrogated.
The grim silence from Merran and Tahlia suggested that it may have occurred to all of them at the same time.
“Let’s keep looking,” Tahlia said, somewhat insistently.
Korsten understood entirely. He gave a nod, giving the room a last glancing over before following the others out.
In the corner of his vision, the wall rippled. Korsten paused in the doorway, looking to the tapestry. Air moved through the rooms as freely as if there were open windows, and that may have been the cause of motion where there had previously been none.
At the same time, it may not have been.
“Wait,” Korsten said to the others. When Merran joined him in the doorway, he walked over to the tapestry. Summoning form to his blade, he prodded the suspicious area.
Nothing happened. Still, he lifted back the edge of the fabric. There was nothing of any substance behind it. That in no way quelled the sensation that something had been there.
Korsten turned from the tapestry and found Merran eyeing it still.
“It must have been the draft,” Korsten said to his partner.
Merran seemed dissatisfied with that option. He ushered Korsten from the room and stepped into the hall with him. He then cast a Barrier over the doorway.
Tahlia observed with an inquiring frown. “What’s he after?”
Korsten started to shake his head, but his attention caught sharply on the slap of a misshapen hand upon the Barrier. A squeal of protest followed, and the demon dropped to the floor. In a way, it was as any other small creature leaping down from a perch, but in the realm of the Vadryn, simple actions became somehow grotesque.
The beast on the floor had four limbs, though they were asymmetrical. A truncated tail strained to offer any balance. Its face was narrow and protruding with a prominent jaw and teeth that leaned from its maw at irregular angles. Thin ears were bent back over its head. The whole of it was covered in patches of ruddiness and of inconsistent tones of gray, brown, and green. Sunken black eyes searched, finding the
Barrier again and also those on the other side of it.
“Why is it discolored like that?” Tahlia wondered. “Looks as if it’s trying to take on the colors around it.”
Merran looked at her, as if enlightened by the comment. “It’s trying to hide itself,” he said to both of them.
“Like the one growing from Izwendel,” Korsten added.
Merran nodded. “It only became visible because Sesha disrupted the space.”
“And what it was reflecting.” Considering that, and applying it to a larger picture, Korsten believed that they also had an answer as to the location of the original manor house, but he wasn’t given time to express that when Tahlia offered her reaction to the developing theories.
“Gods, what? Now they’re developing ways beyond possession to hide from us in plain sight?”
“We’ve learned to contend with possession,” Merran stated. “They’re learning new ways to attack. But it’s worse than that, if they’ve begun culturing new demons from their poison. It’s beyond leaving the incidental ghoul. They’ve now begun to realize that if they administer their taint as if a poison …then it will gradually eat away at the host.”
The notion of poison set Korsten’s thoughts on Alsaide, the demonic boy, who may not have been possessed beyond his obsession with toxins.
“It’s still possession,” Merran continued, “but a slow one …more like gestation.”
“So, these are comparable to infant demons,” Tahlia summarized.
“This one must have been grown from a cat …maybe a small dog.”
Korsten watched the struggling creature, and couldn’t help that he felt pity for it. “I didn’t think that the Vadryn could get fouler.”
Without another word, Merran dropped the Barrier, and set Fire to the beast.
•—•
Alsaide would rather have gone back to his room, but he found it difficult to contend with Leodyn’s decision to openly court the red priest. He slumped in a highbacked chair within the demon lord’s preferred chamber and ignored all of its lavish detail while he worried over a hangnail. It had gone unnoticed until a few hours passed without any sight of Korsten.