Revenant Winds (The Tainted Cabal Book 1)

by Mitchell Hogan

  Frightened screams came from all around—the settlers cowering in their homes.

  He almost spat at the cowards, but instead raised his voice. “Razmus! Where are you?”

  An answering shout came from somewhere ahead, beyond the last of the poorly built buildings the settlers had raised out of the dirt.

  Niklaus increased his pace, putting down another three Dead-eyes that were unlucky enough to cross paths with him. He raced along a track toward another stream. Valeria stood with her back to an old tree, watching Razmus grappling with two Dead-eyes. A bad idea, considering their claws. Razmus’s arms and back were drenched with crimson, and his sword was nowhere to be seen.

  Fool! Always carry more blades than you think you’ll need.

  As he came closer, Niklaus saw Priska kneeling beside the priestess. She clutched a talisman in her hands, fingers roaming over the sorcerous aid as she prepared a cant.

  Niklaus was ten paces from Valeria when a sudden urge to plunge his sword into her back came over him. His short blade swung out, ready to strike—but he stopped himself. Not now. Too obvious. Besides, he didn’t know what she was really up to yet, so her death would have to wait, as annoying as it was to have her here. And if the goddess wanted her high priestess dead, she would show him a sign.

  His shining blade passed within a hand’s breadth of Valeria as he dashed past.

  “Save my father!” screeched Priska as soon as she saw him.

  A third Dead-eye rushed at Razmus, and Niklaus thrust his sword into it. The blade stuck in its chest, and though he twisted and pulled, it remained stuck between two ribs. He let it go, grabbed one of the Dead-eyes savaging Razmus by its sparse matted hair, and yanked it off him. He twisted its emaciated neck, which broke with a sharp crack, severing its spine. That should give Razmus some respite. He dropped the lifeless corpse, then stepped on the Dead-eye that had his sword wedged between its ribs. He grasped the hilt and heaved, and this time the blade slid free. He plunged it into the back of the last Dead-eye Razmus wrestled with, then hauled the corpse off him.

  “Thank you, thank you,” gasped Razmus. He stared at the blood coursing down his arms. “I need help. Please.”

  “You should have been faster,” Niklaus said. Everyone always wanted something.

  Priska rushed over to Razmus, obviously having abandoned whatever sorcery she was trying to perform. But her hands drew back from staunching her father’s wounds.

  Niklaus sighed. A stunted sorcerer, and squeamish too.

  A shadow flickered at the edge of his vision. He peered toward it, but it was gone. The Lady Sylva. What does she want to show me?

  He spoke to Priska, aware of Valeria edging closer. “Find something to bind his cuts. Tear your clothes, if you must.”

  He turned his back and strode to where he’d seen the shadow. In the darkness, something large rustled through bushes. It emitted a deep-throated growl.

  That’s no animal.

  Niklaus felt his arms tingle with anticipation. He held his short blade out, tip toward the sound, and advanced slowly.

  A shape barreled out of the shadows. Spindly-limbed and gaunt, it looked like a larger Dead-eye, except with black and gray mottled skin. Knife-like talons protruded from its hands. It was similar to the creature Niklaus had killed so many years ago and the one that had recently attacked Aldric and Sokhelle, according to the priest’s description. To encounter one was a rarity. But two in so short a span of time? That pointed to a powerful agency behind the creatures. Who was their master, and what did they want?

  The creature hissed, then emitted a wail through its fanged mouth.

  Niklaus shrugged his shoulders to loosen them.

  The creature charged, talons extended. Niklaus dodged and weaved, avoiding each swipe. A slice of his short blade across its stomach, and he leaped back, frowning. He hadn’t felt the usual sensation of blade parting flesh. Steel should have—

  The black Dead-eye came at him again. Its assault was furious. Niklaus dodged its knifelike talons, parried—and felt his wrist twist as his blade was almost wrenched out of his grip.

  He stumbled, shocked at the creature’s iron strength. A wild slash surged toward his head, and he let his momentum drop him to his knees. The claw whistled over him, brushing his hair.

  He rolled away across the dirt, breath hissing between his teeth, then leaped to his feet, chest heaving. His short blade weaved glittering arcs as he dodged and parried the creature’s furious attacks. Each time he blocked, it was like striking an iron bar. Niklaus deflected its swipes, swaying away as one came too close and rushed past his face. He thrust, and his point jabbed into the creature’s chest like it was striking hard wood.

  Blood and damnation. Sorcery of some kind protects it.

  He countered fast enough to kill a human five times over, but although his assaults struck home, they couldn’t penetrate whatever protected the creature.

  This is … different.

  Niklaus ducked and ran, creating some breathing space and luring the thing away from the others. He crouched slightly, sword close to the ground.

  The black Dead-eye stood there, mouth open. A hissing sound came from it in short bursts. It was laughing at him.

  “I kill you,” it said, the words guttural but recognizable.

  Niklaus parried another swipe of its razor talons. “Not likely,” he said, breathing heavily. But if his blade couldn’t injure it …

  Its purple tongue darted from its gash of a mouth, as if tasting the air like a snake. Its eyes flicked over Niklaus’s shoulder.

  It’s not after me, he realized. Who, then? Aldric? Most likely Sokhelle, as she’s a sorcerer. And the other creature was after her.

  Dropping his short blade, Niklaus swung her sword from his back to his hip and drew. Growling, the black Dead-eye rushed him, and he arrested the creature’s swipe with a ringing parry. He flicked the blade and gave a feral grin as it parted flesh, and the creature whimpered.

  Not used to pain, are you? Well, here’s some more.

  He slashed at it viciously, the blade carving glowing lines in the dark. The creature whirled its arms around in a harried defense—and Niklaus’s sword sliced hunks from its flesh. He hammered it again and again, and the creature stumbled back, off balance.

  He cut deeply into one of its legs, then, as it fell to its knees, he severed its arm. The creature flailed its other arm frantically, screeching.

  Huh, it bleeds crimson like a human.

  With a two-handed slash, he cut its head off. Its remaining arm and legs twitched feebly as gouts of blood sprayed across the dirt before slowing to a trickle.

  Sweat running down his face, lungs burning, Niklaus looked around for signs of more Dead-eyes. None.

  He kicked the black creature’s corpse savagely and stared into its lifeless eyes. What are you? And who controlled you?

  “Magnificent!” gushed Valeria.

  Niklaus closed his eyes for a brief moment.

  “Let me see it!” she implored. “I must touch it!”

  There was no doubt what the priestess referred to. Niklaus backed away from her and sheathed the goddess’s blade. It was already sparkling clean, the Dead-eye’s blood absorbed into the steel.

  “No. Not until I know what you’re up to and if you further her plans.” He bent and picked up his short sword.

  “Of course I do! How dare you question me.”

  “Look to Priska,” Niklaus said.

  The young woman was by Razmus’s side, speaking soothing words through her sobs. Valeria ignored Niklaus, so he approached the girl instead.

  “Priska, the danger has passed. But sometimes the Dead-eyes poison their talons. Razmus will need healing. Go and fetch Aldric. Quickly now!” With Priska gone, he could do away with Razmus … if he desired. But what did his goddess want? Did she want Razmus dead so Valeria could sway Priska?

  Priska nodded, her eyes red, face tear-streaked. She backed away, uttered a sob, then ran toward
the settlement.

  Niklaus squatted beside Razmus and supported him into a sitting position. Razmus shifted his weight, coughing weakly.

  “I’ve never … heard of Dead-eyes poisoning their claws,” he croaked.

  “They don’t, but she needed something to spur her away from here.”

  Niklaus had almost let Priska dither over her father until it was too late to create this opportunity, but something stopped him. With Razmus gone, Priska would become more malleable in Valeria’s hands, and Niklaus was loath to aid the priestess. He would have to let Razmus live. For now.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Aftermath

  ALDRIC WALKED THROUGH THE carnage with Soki at his side. The Dead-eyes’ bleached blood seeped into the ground, leaving dark trails and patches. Their limbs looked even thinner than when they were alive.

  Bryn had taken off his shirt and torn strips from the fabric, bandaging Stray Dog’s gashed arm. “Not a single villager came to help,” he snarled, spitting into the dirt.

  “They’re frightened,” said Stray Dog. “Mice don’t fight cats.”

  “The Dead-eyes are hardly as dangerous as cats to mice,” scoffed Bryn.

  Stray Dog shrugged. “To the settlers, they are. Not everyone is born a warrior.”

  “Bryn, find the others,” Aldric said, kneeling beside Stray Dog. “And make sure the settlers are all right. Bring any injured here to me.”

  Soki placed a hand on Aldric’s shoulder. “Don’t exhaust yourself,” she warned.

  He shrugged free from her grasp and placed his hands over the rent flesh of Stray Dog’s arm. Warm blood oozed between his fingers. Stray Dog flinched with pain.

  “Let me,” Aldric said.

  His brief flashes of sorcery had taken a lot out of him, but this was what he’d been born for. He closed his eyes and opened himself to his god’s power, feeling it flow into and through him. He gloried in its warmth, bathing in the serenity it brought him.

  First things first: the muscles and tendons had to be knit. One part of Aldric’s will bent to this task while another examined the bone to make sure it was whole. It was scored in places from the Dead-eyes’ sharp claws, but nothing too bad. Underneath his hands, he felt the flesh ripple and squirm like a carpet of snakes. Somewhere, as if from far away, he heard a gasp.

  Aldric concentrated. Skin next. He drew the flesh close to the bone together first, fusing it, forcing the muscle to grow. A trickle of sweat slid down his forehead and into his eye. He ignored it. Next came the outer layer of skin, which was more elastic and easier to set.

  When he was sure the muscles and skin were mostly reconnected, Aldric reluctantly let go of his god’s power. He shuddered at the feeling of loss, wanting to reach for it again. With a great effort of will, he stopped himself and opened his eyes. Stray Dog’s arm looked whole, albeit crisscrossed with new hairline scars.

  The big man grunted. “Thank you,” he said gruffly, clenching and unclenching his hand, eyes roaming over his patched-up skin. “Brings back memories.”

  Aldric remained kneeling in the dirt. Niklaus was right: Stray Dog’s wound had drawn him, as nectar drew a bee. He’d wanted to heal him. Needed to.

  Aldric was relieved that Stray Dog hadn’t asked questions about his healing ability. He’s seen it before, he realized, remembering the scars on the man’s chest and back. Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe the dog had been trained well.

  Aldric immediately chastised himself for the uncharitable thought. Stray Dog deserved better than that from him.

  He staggered wearily to his feet, almost overcome with exhaustion. If he’d used more sorcery against the Dead-eyes, he might not have had the strength for the god’s work. As it was, he felt drained. For the briefest instant he felt a surge of jealousy as he recalled the power of Soki’s sorcery and how she’d remained energetic and sprightly afterwards. It had hardly affected her.

  He quickly quashed the sensation. But … if he had more power, he could do more good. And he wouldn’t be as physically drained, which would leave him more able to handle his god’s gift flowing through him.

  A sudden coldness filled Aldric. Sorcery was anathema to the Church of Menselas, and for the first time ever, he was wishing for more of it. It was Soki’s influence … Was this how corruption started? Aldric had seen what became of sorcerers who tried to channel more power than they could handle. Some were left withered and misshapen; others died and became mere puddles on the ground.

  Voices came from all around—the settlers shouting at each other through the walls, asking if the fight was over. Some had used the barricades for defense, as planned, but most had hidden inside their houses. Mice trapped in cages.

  “Aldric,” screamed Priska, rushing around the side of a building, sobbing uncontrollably, “it’s my father—he’s hurt.”

  “Where is he?”

  Aldric held her arms, but she collapsed against his chest, and he had to take her weight. Soki raised her eyebrows at him.

  “Come on,” he said to Priska. “We mustn’t waste time.”

  She pushed away from him to stand on her own two feet. “This way, this way.” And she rushed off north, toward the stream that ran along the northern side of the settlement.

  Aldric followed with Soki. He couldn’t keep up with Priska, who had dashed off without looking back. He stumbled with fatigue a couple of times, and Soki jammed her shoulder into his armpit to steady him.

  “You’re exhausted,” she said crossly when he mumbled his thanks. “Don’t push yourself too much. You’re no good to anyone if you’re unconscious.”

  It didn’t take long before they came across Razmus. Priska kneeled over his still body, sobbing and wailing. She pressed her face to his, heedless of the blood smearing her clothes and skin.

  Niklaus and Valeria stood a respectful distance away, while Bryn and Stray Dog had followed behind Aldric and Soki.

  “He’s lost a great deal of blood,” Niklaus said, moving closer. He crouched down and placed his hands on Priska’s shoulders. “But Aldric’s here now. Razmus will be all right.”

  She nodded, wiping her eyes with the palms of her hands. “He can’t die …” She shook Razmus’s body, as if to wake him from sleep. “I don’t know what I’d do,” she said between sobs. “He’s always been there for me. Always.”

  Aldric kneeled next to her. He took in the deep gashes across Razmus’s arms and chest and the amount of blood around his body. The ex-soldier’s face was pale, and his lips blue. Without hesitating, Aldric let Menselas’s power suffuse him again. By the end Aldric was trembling, and his vision swam. But Razmus’s breathing was deep and even, and some color had returned to his face.

  “He’ll need rest,” Aldric managed. “And get some broth into him.”

  He staggered upright and would have fallen if Stray Dog and Soki hadn’t grabbed hold of him.

  “Thank you!” Priska said.

  “You need rest too,” Soki said sternly to her. “We’re taking you back.”

  After her father’s brush with death, Aldric knew the girl would be fragile and vulnerable. Valeria had her confidence, and Aldric didn’t trust the priestess further than he could throw her.

  “Look after Priska,” he told Soki, adding close to her ear, “She’s spending too much time with Valeria.”

  Soki nodded. She bent and drew Priska to her feet. “Come,” she said gently. “We’ll get you back to the settlement to clean you up. You and Bryn can help me carry Razmus.”

  Priska allowed Soki to draw her away. Bryn lifted Razmus, his elbows crooked around the ex-soldier’s armpits. Soki and Priska took a leg each, and they slowly carried Razmus toward the settlement.

  When Aldric was sure they couldn’t hear him, he said, “There were far more Dead-eyes than I’d expected before full-dark.”

  Niklaus sneered, jerking his chin in the direction of the village. “Bloody settlers lied to us, to your Church. And it’s not just the Dead-eyes—you should see what attacked
me.”

  He gestured to a large form on the ground about twenty paces away. It was so dark now that if Niklaus hadn’t pointed it out, Aldric might have missed it. He pushed Stray Dog’s helping hands away with a word of thanks and stumbled over to it. His breath caught in his throat. A black-skinned Dead-eye, but larger, more vicious. It looked to be the same kind of creature that had attacked him and Soki.

  Niklaus kicked something, and the creature’s head rolled closer to the body. “I don’t think it was after me though, was it, Aldric?”

  Soki. Another of the creatures had come to kill her.

  “What is it?” Stray Dog asked. He prodded the creature with his boot. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. And I’ve seen many things.”

  “Another mindless monster,” said Valeria. “But it was no match for the sword of—”

  “Enough of your nattering, priestess,” snarled Niklaus. “Round up the settlers—whoever’s brave enough to come outside now. And find Neb. Bring him here, to me. He has some explaining to do.”

  Valeria drew herself up, eyes flashing with anger. “Why should I? I don’t take orders from anyone.”

  Despite his fatigue, Aldric felt his blood boil at her words. They had a mission: to protect the settlers. And they needed to be a team to get the job done. We’ve only been here a few days, and already Razmus has almost died. He would have if I hadn’t been here.

  “You do what we say,” he told her, voice hoarse with exhaustion, “or you go back to Caronath. We don’t have room for someone who doesn’t pull their weight. So you either swallow your pride and find Neb and any other settlers who are about and bring them to us, or you can leave in the morning. It’s your choice.”

  Valeria opened her mouth to speak, but shut it when Niklaus took a step toward her. “Go. Do as he says. Stray Dog, you go with her.”

  Valeria sniffed, then turned her back and walked away. Stray Dog looked at Aldric, shrugged, and followed her.

  Aldric squatted next to the headless corpse. Concerns and suspicions beset him. It was no coincidence, the appearance of another of these creatures. This mission—to protect the settlers, drive off the Dead-eyes, then investigate the ruins—was getting ever more complicated. And far more dangerous.