Revenant Winds (The Tainted Cabal Book 1)

by Mitchell Hogan

  A group of students walked past the column Kurio leaned against, and she turned her head away. Though her hood concealed her face, she couldn’t take any chances. She’d swapped her red wig for one close to her natural hair color and style back when she was a student; otherwise the master she wanted to see might not recognize her. It was a risk, what with her family still looking for her; but on balance, the paper she’d found underneath the metal cube was more important. If someone reported her presence here to her family, she’d be long gone by the time they came looking for her.

  A short, squat man dressed in the black robes of a master came out of a side door. There. Master Okas still looked the same: his lank dark hair needed a wash, and his fingers were stained with ink. She’d fallen asleep in his classes, but apparently he spoke and read Skanuric like a native.

  Kurio followed a discreet distance behind Okas as he wandered along lost in thought, head bowed to gaze at the path just in front of him. She glanced at the clock above the main entrance to the great hall. Almost midday. Classes would be over soon, and the students would crowd the place as they made their way to lunch. Okas had left to avoid the crush.

  The master wandered through a tunnel and passed the ivy-covered history and philosophy buildings before entering the masters’ residence. Kurio cursed. Of course he was coming here. She should have realized.

  She slipped inside and trailed him up a flight of broad wooden stairs. When he turned down a side corridor, she quickened her pace. He’d withdrawn a key and was about to unlock a door—presumably to his rooms—when Kurio cleared her throat.

  Okas looked up, eyes wide with surprise. “You shouldn’t be here, young miss. This is the masters’ private residence. Now, please—”

  Kurio waved the paper in front of his face. “Skanuric writing. I need it translated. I heard you’re the man for the job. I’ll pay well.”

  Okas’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her. They flicked to the paper, then back to meet her own. “Don’t I know you? You were a student here once.”

  “A long time ago.” Kurio jingled a heavy purse in front of his face. Due to her disturbing lack of funds, she’d had to fill it with mostly copper royals, but the top layer was silver. “Here,” she said, opening it. “Silver, and a lot of it. For your trouble and discretion.”

  “Bah!” Okas waved the purse away. “If I need coin, I’ve plenty of options. And none of them mean my lunch will go cold.”

  Bloody hells. She hadn’t counted on him refusing. Everyone wants royals, don’t they?

  “Listen,” she began.

  “Piss off,” growled Okas. He inserted the key into the lock and opened the door a crack. “I don’t know who you think you are, but my time is—”

  Kurio kicked the door wide open and shoved Okas inside the room. He stumbled to his knees, and she slammed the door shut behind them.

  “What the hells do you think you’re doing?” he shouted, red-faced. He lurched to his feet.

  Kurio spread her hands, one still clutching the purse. Her movement had stirred a copper to the surface. “Calm down,” she said softly, squeezing the purse shut. “You’ll want to work on this. Trust me.”

  “Trust you?” he said incredulously. “You kicked my door in and shoved me to the floor!”

  “It was already open.”

  “Get out before I call for the guards!”

  “What guards?”

  Okas hesitated. “The other masters will come. We’ll throw you out, and you’ll be banned from the university for life.”

  That’ll make twice.

  “Listen to me,” Kurio said, enunciating every word slowly. “I found the paper in an ironwood chest banded with ensorcelled orichalcum and secured with a Sandoval lock.”

  No need to mention the metal cube also covered in Skanuric script. Gannon had to be linked to the cube in some way. Despite his lack of interest in it at the time, she couldn’t see him staying away from something like this. His hands would be all over it.

  Okas frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, resting them atop his belly. “Found it? How?” The skepticism in his tone was unmistakable, but at least he’d calmed down and wasn’t shouting.

  Kurio kept one ear trained on the door to make sure no one was coming to investigate the disturbance. With any luck, the masters would all be feeding their faces and guzzling expensive wine, and no one would notice.

  “That’s none of your concern,” she said. “But I know it’s valuable. It could reveal the answer to a mystery that’s been lost for thousands of years.” She was warming to her task now and injected more excitement into her words. “Just think of it! You’ll be famous. I mean, more famous. What ancient secrets will this paper unlock? It could be a … map! Directing us to untold treasures. To ancient sorcerous artifacts of immense power.” She lowered her voice and stared Okas in the eye. “Someone died to get this into my hands.”

  That was true enough.

  He snorted. “The paper looks new to me.”

  “Well, yes, but it’s obviously valuable.”

  Okas sighed loudly, like she was an unruly student he was going to fail unless she passed this one final exam. “Hand it over, then. And once I’m done, you’ll get out of my room and leave the university grounds. I don’t want to see you again. Is that clear?”

  He reached for the paper. Kurio jerked it out of his reach, and his fingers closed on empty air.

  “What—”

  “I need reassurances,” she said firmly. “This stays between us. You don’t tell anyone else. And you forget you ever saw me.”

  Okas squinted at her. “Wait. I do know you. You’re the student that—”

  She shoved the paper at him. “Just read it.”

  “The mess took days to clean up. There are still stains in the stone floor.”

  Kurio gritted her teeth. “Just read it.”

  Okas took the paper from her. He frowned, tutted, then went to the closest window. Holding it to the light, he studied the writing, lips moving slightly. Blood drained from his face.

  “Nysrog,” he whispered. His eyes followed more lines of script; then he threw the paper at her. “Get out! You get out of here!”

  “Calm down. What is it? What or who is Nysrog?”

  Okas’s face went even paler. He pointed at the door, hand trembling like he was an alcoholic who hadn’t had a drink in days. Or like Kurio’s had when she’d encountered the demons, and when she’d met Gannon for dinner …

  “Get out! You’ve put me in danger. You’re likely dead yourself. Go.” His voice cracked. “Please. Just go.”

  Kurio bent to pick up the paper. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

  “By all the gods.” Okas staggered to a chair and collapsed into it. His hands clutched at his chest.

  “Are you all right? I’ll get you some water.”

  “Forget water!” he shrieked. “If you have any sense, you’ll return the paper to where you found it and disappear. Go far away. Maybe you’ll live. Who knows? I’m too old to run.”

  “Come on, old man, I haven’t killed you.”

  “You bloody well have.” He buried his face in his hands. “You stupid girl.”

  “Tell me, then—what does the paper say? Why should I run?”

  Okas’s reaction gave her pause, but he was a fat old man who’d lived most of his life closeted at the university. He wasn’t like her. No one was. As Gannon said, she was different.

  Maybe she should try another tack. “If I’m going to die, I want to know why.”

  Okas spoke as if she wasn’t in the room with him. “Much of history has been lost, destroyed because of the cataclysms,” he whispered. “By people who didn’t want the truth to be known. I found hints and followed them. It took years … but all the tales are true, and terrifying. The demon … its darkness blotted out the sun. The world almost ended.”

  “What are you babbling about? The gods keep the demons imprisoned. That’s one of their burdens.”r />
  Okas laughed weakly. He lifted his head, and she saw shiny tear trails down his face. “Such truths hidden in simple tales. The Tainted Cabal were reckless sorcerers lusting after power, and they brought forth a demon lord, Nysrog. Eventually, they were defeated, and Nysrog was returned to whatever foul pit it came from. Its progeny scattered and were eventually hunted down and killed.”

  Interesting.

  “There’s no mention of this in the histories,” Kurio said. Which meant it had been deliberately left out or removed. And to do that would take many years and many men with a single purpose.

  “History belongs to the victor,” said Okas. “And this victor wanted such knowledge scoured from our minds and records. The books where you’ll find mention of it are rare and coveted.” He wiped his eyes with the palms of his hands. A sigh escaped him, and his body deflated, like he’d given up all hope. “Just go.”

  Kurio shook her head. “Not before you tell me more.”

  “Foolish girl. You stole that paper from the Tainted Cabal. Or from someone who wanted to hide it from them. Whoever it was, they’ll come for you. And you’ll wish for death long before they’re done with you.”

  So filled with conviction was Okas’s tone, a chill ran through Kurio. He honestly believed they were both dead.

  “What is the Tainted Cabal?” she asked.

  “Worshipers of Nysrog. Sorcerers who banded together and summoned a demon they thought they could control. They were wrong. The demon … warped their minds. Dominated them, so in the end they became its tools.” Okas leaned back in the chair and rubbed his eyes. “It was thousands of years ago. And afterward, the Churches made sure they destroyed any records. Eventually, the demon, and the Cabal, became a legend. Now, the Cabal has almost disappeared. Some remember, though, and wait.”

  “Wait? For what?”

  “To bring Nysrog back. The paper you showed me mentions a cube that supposedly contains immense sorcerous power. An artifact that could either return the demon lord to our realm or imprison him.”

  Kurio looked at her hands. It all sounded so … crazy. But Okas certainly believed it, and he wasn’t insane or stupid. Was Gannon part of this Cabal, or was he involved in something else? Was he telling her the truth earlier, that he was just a researcher? Perhaps Willas was the mastermind and was using Gannon?

  “So, this Cabal, they work to bring back Nysrog, but after thousands of years they’ve been unsuccessful. Why? And after so many years of failure, why haven’t they given up?”

  “The sorcerers of the Tainted Cabal cannot die. Nysrog corrupted them, and they can do nothing but seek his return. The desire burns hot within their souls.”

  “They wait.” Kurio repeated Okas’s earlier words.

  “Exactly. And now you’ve stolen something from them. They will come for you. And for me.”

  It didn’t make sense. There hadn’t been any sorcery protecting the chest. Was this Cabal so incompetent they couldn’t repeat what they’d done thousands of years ago? No … there was more to this story. Something, or someone, had to be opposing them.

  “For an evil sorcerous organization that worships demons, they haven’t done much in a few thousand years. You’ve not told me everything. Tell me what you know.”

  Okas chuckled humorlessly, like someone had told a joke at a funeral. “After they were defeated, the sorcerers were much reduced. They fled, went into hiding. Though they’d gained much knowledge from the demon, they weren’t powerful enough to implement it. And the Churches and their sorcerers decided on two actions: they would create an order to forever oppose the followers of Nysrog, and they’d construct traps for them.”

  “You mean sorcerous traps of some kind?”

  Okas nodded. “The Tainted Cabal are always seeking to expand their expertise and power, and for that they need sorcerous artifacts.”

  “From the ancient ruins around the place?”

  “Yes. Most of the ruins are harmless, at least to competent sorcerers. But the ones concealing true power, they’ve been … taken over, I guess you could say. If someone with enough power meddles with certain artifacts hidden in ruins, a virulent sorcery is unleashed. Disaster follows. Destruction. Just after Nysrog, it was thought the best course of action was to prevent the return of the demon lord at any cost. People were desperate; they’d been through such horrors as you wouldn’t believe. The cataclysms weren’t natural occurrences. They were caused by the Revenants, which were created by the Churches and sorcerers to limit sorcerous power in the world and hopefully to prevent the return of Nysrog.”

  Kurio squirmed under the intensity of Okas’s gaze. She decided to come clean.

  “I don’t think,” she said slowly as her thoughts coalesced, “I stole … I mean, I don’t think this paper was in the Tainted Cabal’s possession. There wasn’t any sorcery protecting it. And the house where it was held was just a noble’s residence. Nothing malevolent about it.”

  Okas perked up. By the time she’d finished speaking, he was on his feet, chewing a thumbnail. “This noble—don’t tell me his name—is he powerful? Is there anything unusual about him?”

  Kurio thought for a moment. “I guess he’s powerful. He has a lot of coin, anyway, and commands a lot of soldiers. Even has an elite squad, from what I’m told.”

  Okas began pacing. “Maybe …” he said softly. “Could it be?” He turned to Kurio, exhaling hard through his nose. “We might be saved. You have to take the paper back to him.”

  “What? I’ll do no such thing. He’ll lock me up!” Or kill me.

  Okas gripped her shoulders with surprising strength. “Listen to me,” he said urgently. “Just as the Tainted Cabal works in secret, so does the organization opposing them. If this noble is involved with them—”

  “Then he’ll string me up! And if he’s with the Cabal, he’ll definitely kill me.”

  Kurio thought back to Gannon giving Willas orders, and the chills she’d felt when she entered the room. Bloody hells. Have I just aided the Cabal? Is Okas right—am I dead already? But if so, why didn’t they kill me then? And who sent Gerret to the house?

  “You must give it back!” Okas repeated, shaking her violently.

  She grabbed the hilt of a dagger and almost punctured his lung before pushing his hands off her and backing away. Maybe she could send a messenger to return the paper, a street urchin perhaps? But she knew she couldn’t trust anyone else with it now.

  “I’ll do it,” she said softly.

  Why did I say that? I should run far, far away.

  “Then go,” Okas said. “Never mention my name. Come back here if …” He trailed off, dropping his eyes to the floor.

  “If I’m alive?” she finished with a wry smile.

  Kurio left the old master to torture himself with fear. If he was right, maybe she could flee the city and hope they never find her—not a palatable option. Or she could return the paper and hope they didn’t kill her. And if Okas was wrong, and there was no weird Tainted Cabal, the owner of the paper would likely pay her some royals to regain it. She’d have to be careful though, as they might suspect she knew something about the theft of the cube. But that was why fences were in business.

  Exiting the masters’ residence, Kurio glanced around. A few students strolled by, talking quietly. No one had followed her here, and no one knew she’d stolen the paper. The old fool’s tales had made her nervous.

  She strode down the path, heading for a narrow alley that would save her some time. She turned the corner and stopped. In front of her were two men, both staring at her with flat eyes. She could see scars on their fingers and hands: cuts from many a sword fight.

  “Excuse me,” she said, backing away, her hand reaching for her crossbow. “I think I’ve—”

  Something covered her head from behind. A scratchy hessian sack.

  “Fire! Fire!” she shouted, knowing that calling for help was useless.

  She scratched at the hands holding the sack. Something struck her
head hard enough to rock it sideways. Stars erupted before her eyes, and she felt the world spin around her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sorcerous Attachments

  SOKI RUMMAGED THROUGH A pile of papers she’d pulled from a leather folder. Each page was covered with calculations and geometries: formulas and methodologies for controlling and shaping sorcery.

  They were in her private study located at the back of her shop. Aldric had been surprised to find she lived on the second floor rather than in a lavish mansion somewhere. With her power and skill, she could charge an exorbitant sum for her services. But it had pleased Aldric to find that she cared more about her work than about coin.

  The room was cozy, with a fire burning in one corner. Tables and shelves lined the walls, all filled with curiosities and knick-knacks: colored rocks, polished woods; bleached skulls of different creatures; jars containing a yellow-tinged pickling solution, and animals he didn’t look too closely at. From one, an eye the size of his fist stared out at him.

  Aldric watched Soki as she examined each piece of paper, the tip of her tongue poking from between her lips as she concentrated. He relaxed in his armchair and sipped his tea, letting the warmth of the cup seep into his hands, comfortable for the first time in quite a while.

  “I noticed a small flaw in your dormant wards,” Soki said, glancing at him, then going back to her schematics. “If you’ll forgive me, I think I can fix it. Do you use a talisman when you construct them?”

  “Yes,” Aldric said. “But … I try to use sorcery as little as possible.”

  Her dark eyes locked onto his, and he looked away.

  “Because of …?”

  “My god, yes. And the Church’s attitude toward us.”

  Her hand reached over to clasp his. It felt hot on his skin. “Aldric, sorcery isn’t a sin or a curse. You were born—”

  “I wasn’t born a sorcerer. My mark appeared later.”

  “It doesn’t matter when it appeared. You were born a sorcerer. You should embrace what you can do. I can teach you, guide you, if you’re here for a while. I assumed … you are staying, aren’t you?”