The Reaping: Immortalibus Bella 2

by SL Figuhr

  “What should we do with the bodies?” I heard Colin ask.

  “I say we dump them in an oubliette and be done with it. It’s more than they deserve,” his friend replied, “Cowardly, ambushing swine.”

  I continued my inspection, passing into a small sitting chamber, then a sleeping cell grandly outfitted. It stank of smoke and burned flesh. I knew we had found the second man who played wizard. The question was: where was he, and where did he have Mica, if he had him at all? I could find no clue, so I started back out toward the office and realized I felt a slight breeze. By the time I found a thin crack in the wall, both immortals had joined me and with a bit of pushing and tugging we discovered a hidden door and managed to get it open.

  Once more Eron took point as we followed the dark, damp, cold hallway revealed. It seemed to go on forever, twisting and turning. I had a feeling we were headed back toward one of the wings of the palace. Eventually we came to another locked door. None of the keys on the guard’s ring worked.

  “The end of our journey,” Eron whispered after I’d tried all the keys.

  “Let me look,” Colin said and knelt down to inspect the mechanism.

  His friend held his torch to give him light, and turned his head to look at me over his shoulder, murmuring to me, “Can’t you hulk out and bust it or something?”

  I breathed in his ear, “Yes, but it would confirm for your friend I am not mortal nor natural and I don’t wish to expose myself.”

  Colin muttered to us, “This is a basic lock. I think I can get it open.” He rummaged among the pouches tied to his belt and came out with some tools. He set to work.

  I was about to halt him, as my senses let me know another mortal was approaching but Colin had already swung the door open and stepped through. We came face-to-face with the head questioner for half-a-heartbeat before I sent the oil lamp in his hand tumbling into the wall. Shattering, it sprayed flaming oil across the floor, but the flickering light afforded me many shadows.

  He in turn was rasping out gibberish which raised the hair on the back of my neck and caused my mark to itch through the leather sleeve and arm guard. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to battle a self-professed mage, but Eron stepped out of the shadows behind him and slammed the pommel of his sword into the back of the man’s head. He dropped like a stone, whatever he had been casting cut off.

  Colin joined us. “I think we know who’s trying to trap us and who may know exactly where Mica is.”

  Eron glanced around the room revealed in the burning lamp oil, tilted his head at Colin, then to the passageway. I picked up on the clue easily enough.

  “Colin, would you do us the favor of inspecting the hallway? I would ask Eron, but you have more experience with Nicky and traps he may use.”

  “Of course.” He cautiously started off.

  Eron and I knelt beside the unconscious man and turned him onto his back. One eye was milky white, in the ruined half of a face; the flesh was red and raw and seemed to have melted in rivulets. The man cradled one red-and-black arm, and a hand wrapped many times in cloth. His robe puddled around a body far too thin beneath, and the ruined flesh of his face continued down his neck to disappear inside the enveloping material.

  “Is it just me, or does he look more healed than he should for an event which took place mere weeks ago?” the immortal asked.

  “What are the odds of there being more people like your Cassiopeia, and the little boy trusting one enough to work with him?” I countered.

  “I think you should do your vamp thing and find out what is going on before Colin returns.”

  “He is weak; to drink from him would be risking his life,” I pointed out.

  “Then let’s hope your Jedi Mind Tricks work on him,” Eron replied and brought out the length of rope he had attached to the back of his belt hidden under his cloak.

  We waited for the Head Questioner to wake up. “What shall I do with you, Rablias?” I purred from the edge of the darkness as he woke with a start, looking about frantically with his remaining eye as he realized he was bound.

  He snarled but subsided into an angry silence as I stepped into the wavering oil light. Eron and I had already agreed he would have to be killed.

  “It was a mistake to align yourself with Lord Nicky, though I imagine you had your reasons at the time, didn’t you? I’m sure His Majesty would love to hear them. Perhaps he will decide to use your own men to garner the truth from you?”

  I paused and watched as he squinted his eyes in anger, though he still tried to peer into the darkness. I had felt the momentary flash of fear at the mention of the brothers. Why would he fear them, when he had powers they did not? Was it because of his eye? Or the stench of his burnt flesh I could smell under his clothes even though he had tried to heal himself? To show weakness before those two was to invite trouble. As long as I could keep him believing they still lived, I might get some answers.

  “I intend to ask you some questions, and I need your assurances you will not do anything stupid when I remove the gag.”

  He gave a brief, sharp nod of assent.

  “Should your answers please me and be useful, I will of course mention nothing of your perfidy to the king. You will be free to remain Head Questioner, and continue your pursuits. It should go without saying any attempts to contact Lord Nicky will bring about your demise; whether that demise is swift and painless shall be left for debate.” I paused once more and he nodded understanding.

  “Where is the merchant man Lord Nicholas captured?” I took out the gag, waiting.

  He hacked to clear his throat and in a strained, whispery voice replied, “In the dungeon, where else would he place law-breakers?” His tone contemptuous. Why would you want to know? Is it possible more than one person knows he is not normal? I can’t let him be found until I learn how he does it.

  “Rablias, Rablias,” I shook my head sadly, “it is not good we are starting out with lies.”

  “You should be dead, you and the damn advisor.”

  “Your little device was not as powerful as you had been led to believe. Now, we both know Lord Nicholas would be only too happy to see us both dead. What if I told you there is a way to bring about his end instead?”

  He wheezed, and it took me a moment to realize he was trying to laugh. “You are as stupid as he thinks you are. He has unimaginable power, and you would do well to fear him.”

  “As you do?” I asked.

  He laid his head back against the wall and his good eye blazed. I heard Eron shift impatiently in the darkness, and the head questioner glanced behind me. He thought it was Colin, never realizing there was a third person with us he had not seen. I stuffed the gag back into his mouth and glanced at the immortal.

  Eron placed his lips against my ear so he would not be overheard by our prisoner. “If Mica was down here, you think this jerk’d be worried we could find him. He doesn’t act it at all. That concerns me.”

  We felt a faint tremor in the ground, and I heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Colin came into view. From the corner of my eye, I saw how Rablias fought to keep the shock off the undamaged side of his face.

  “You should come see this,” he glanced briefly at the man, “and bring him with us; since he came from one of the rooms, he already knows what they contain.”

  Rablias groaned around the gag at the pain of movement as we walked off through one of the doorways into a short, innocuous hallway. We came out to another antechamber. Just how many concealed rooms did the little boy need? The floor, while stone, was deeply carved with designs, forming a pattern.

  Colin murmured softly, “It’s the same circle he’s used when he pretends to be a demon-worshipping cult leader. Whenever Mica and I came across this, it meant we were close to a spot he considered important.” He added, just before Eron moved, “Stay outside the circle; he always reserved the deadliest of his booby-traps for within.”

  We circumnavigated the etching in the floor; there was an altar withi
n it and another door across from where we’d entered. Once more we slowly eased through and found ourselves in a private workroom. An open grimoire lay upon a table in the middle of the room. Unfortunately, the whole shebang was itself surrounded by more carvings. It was a tempting setup, but we stuck to the periphery of the room. Bookcases lined two of the walls, filled with scrolls of parchment and clay jars of all sizes To one side, an inglenook bracketed a fireplace filled with cold ashes. Eron shoved Rablias into one of the chairs; beads of sweat popped out on the Head Questioner’s forehead from extreme pain.

  Colin was scanning the shelves and he absently said, “Don’t touch anything; it’s likely to be booby-trapped as well. I never did figure out what he used, or how to undo them. There was never enough time.”

  Eron smirked at me as I hesitated by another door and nudged it open to see a storage area holding plant matter and non-vegetable magic supplies, none of which bore thinking about or too close an inspection.

  Colin muttered, “The brat has to keep a record of all those he’s brought down here and tortured.”

  I could feel Eron against my back as he looked over my shoulder into the room, “Please tell me the kid doesn’t actually use all this stuff.”

  “If it’s down here, I would think so.” I was looking under the shelves, at the few chests the kid stored there. I saw one was a charred mess. The others had been moved, to judge by the marks in the dust upon the floor. The Head Questioner had already tried to loot the little boy’s stash. Interesting.

  “Exactly what are we looking for in all this mess?” Eron asked.

  “I thought there would be something here we could use, or would give us a clue as to what he had done with Mica. It seems I was wrong.”

  The immortal poked at the two remaining chests “Should I assume since one chest is burned, that means they’re all set to burn when opened, and that therefore they must contain objects of value.” He picked one up before I could stop him. Luckily nothing happened. “It’s not too heavy. We could take them and figure out how to open them later. Of course, it’s possible that the brat’s ensorcelled them to disintegrate or some such when he dies.”

  “If you will keep an eye on our prisoner, I will go back to the antechamber and see where the other doorways lead too,” I murmured to the immortal.

  Eron nodded, knowing that, if alone, I would be free to use my powers if I needed. I eased out of the room under the watchful glare of Rablias and made my way back to the antechamber. There was only two doors which we had not gone through. I tested the one on the south wall. It opened easily and now I could freely smell what had only been hinted before; death wafted down the hall, but not recent.

  I debated for a moment before starting down the hallway revealed within, making no footfalls to give myself away. The walls were lined with strange twisted shapes, and globes flared with a soft light. I came upon the body after only a few feet.

  The corpse lay in three pieces, dried blood a wide pool around him. The edges where he’d been separated appeared clean, so something sharp. Why would the kid place deadly traps on this part, and not on the other entrance? I wasn’t sure if the man preceding me, who now lay inert upon the floor, had sprung them all, so I would have to be careful. I stepped lightly down the hall, scanning for any tell-tale sign that overlooked concealed traps would spring to life.

  As I came upon the next body, I felt a flagstone underneath my feet give way. I used my powers to evade the arrows and bolts, but only just. My cloak deflected some of the missiles, but others tore gaping rents in it. I undid the plain clasp and let it fall to the ground. It would only be more trouble. I continued along, until I came to a third body, I paused and tried to figure out from what I hoped was a safe distance away what the trap contained. I saw another dozen feet of tunnel before it curved out of sight.

  All three bodies wore the clothes and collars of slaves I had seen before; Nicky’s property.

  Why would he sacrifice his slaves on traps he had designed? Perhaps someone else had, some mystery person who knew of the kid’s hidden secrets. Who could the person or persons be? It wasn’t the Head Questioner: he had his own access to the hidden rooms. Perhaps the traps were meant to discourage him from coming this way instead?

  I eased around the turn, and saw a body-free stretch of hallway and the start of stairs. That couldn’t be right; why leave a part un-trapped, unless it was to allay the fears of the unwary into thinking they wouldn’t encounter any further problems? I didn’t trust what I saw. I took a step forward and paused but nothing happened. Another, still nothing. I moved forward in starts and stops until I had come to the bottom of the stairs, twisting up out of sight.

  It would be prudent to continue being cautious, so I slowly and carefully mounted the stairs…the trap sprung when I rounded the turn. The stairs tilted to form a slide, and only my ability to fly kept me from taking a quick trip back to the bottom. I wondered if there would be an open pit to catch the unlucky, but didn’t feel like looking. I decided to fly the rest of the way up the stairs and as soon as I alighted on the landing, I heard a click. I leaped forward. Sharp points raked my back as six lances skimmed past.

  Three on each side of the hall, which withdrew back into their housing. I scowled as the blood trickled down my back from my ruined corset. The last flight of stairs ended at a stone ceiling, though I could see a faint crack, which indicated a trapdoor to what lay above. The block or slab wouldn’t lift, and I could see no way of making it slide.

  I walked back to the spear-trapped landing, staying on the step just before the trigger, and inspected the walls. I had noticed strangely-shaped stone knobs protruding around the spear channels. They must be a way of working the mechanism to open the entrance, but I didn’t have the time to work out which configuration to use, or Eron and Colin would start to wonder. I’d best leave the mystery for another day, and head back the way I came. Avoiding the traps and triggers was easy, as I knew now where they lay. A whistle came to my hearing: Eron letting me know they were coming. I didn’t want them to start down the hall and made it to the ante-chamber just as they stepped through the doorway with Rablias between them.

  “It leads to a locked and booby-trapped entrance which can only be opened by knowing the combination to the puzzle lock. I do not recommend wasting time on it.”

  “Did you try the doorway in the west wall?” Colin asked.

  “No.”

  “Well, let’s go look. This blighter refuses to speak anymore.”

  We re-entered the antechamber. I could tell by the tensing of muscles that Rablias was going to try something. I grabbed the back of his neck just as he tried to wrench free of the immortals. He gagged at the force and the men staggered.

  “We must be onto something, if he doesn’t want us heading this way,” Colin gritted out.

  They half-dragged, half-carried him through the west doorway. It seemed his little rebellion used up what strength he had left, as he offered no more resistance. I had taken the torches from the men so they could use both hands to control our prisoner. We saw seven iron doors, spaced evenly, down the hallway, three on each side and one at the end.

  “Use these. I found them on this douche bag when I searched him,” Eron said behind me.

  He had a particularly intense look in his eyes I chose to ignore. I had to hand the torches back to work the keys in the locks. Five of the rooms were empty; the sixth stone cell revealed an unmoving figure.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The man sat before the boy, needle held at the ready, “You sure you wanna try this? That stuff sure don’t look like anything I wanna be putting under my skin.”

  “Just do it. I’m paying you well enough for it.” Nicky sneered.

  The man looked at him a long minute and then shrugged philosophically. “You’re the boss,” and set the needle to buzzing.

  The little boy grimaced as the needle traced the outline of the pattern on his skin. As the man did his work, Nicky mumbled under his b
reath. It sounded like nonsense words, but while the man paused to reload his gun, he inquired, “What’re you saying?”

  “How much longer do you have?” demanded the boy.

  “It’s a complicated piece, so if you don’t want me messing it up, hold still.” Underneath the mild warning was heat.

  Nicky glared at him, but held still, and when the needle resumed its buzz, so did the boy resume his whispered words. It seemed like hours the two sat there—boy muttering, the man at his work. Several times the man wanted to stop, but the boy forced him to continue until the work was done. The man finally sat back, his hand cramped around the gun. Nicky muttered a few last words; the design glowed red and ebon.

  “Holy crap! Ain’t no fucking way! Now I’m seeing shit!

  “It’s almost perfect,” the boy commented.

  “Almost?” the man replied, “It is perfect.”

  He looked up at the boy as a knife swiped across his throat. The man tried to scream, but could not suck in air. His eyes bulged in horror as the blood sprayed out, coating the boy in crimson.

  “Excellent. Your sacrifice has ensured that my body will not reject your work.”

  Nicky wiped his dagger off on the dead man’s clothes. Then he broke into the cash register, stole what money was inside. He retrieved his backpack from under the chair and strolled into the bathroom in the back of the store, where he changed out of his stained clothes, and used a towel to clean the rest of the blood off of him. Then he piled everything in a pile by the dead man. From his backpack, he took several cans of lighter fluid and squirted them over the body.

  He took a book of matches, and lighting one, let it fall on the pile of his clothes. When he couldn’t stand the stench any longer, he left out the back door.

  * * *