The Echoes of Sin (The Kinless Trilogy Book 3)

by Philbrook, Chris

  The vampire nodded back, and somehow the gesture paused all the vampires circling the few living beings in the dead village. The stillness added an eerie quality to an already horrific setting. “Who are you?” the dead man asked.

  “I am Malwynn Everwalk. Who are you?” Mal replied.

  “I am Aleksi Oathman. Why have you come to this place?”

  “We seek answers to questions here. Something here was the cause of great death and destruction and we aim to divine what that cause was,” Mal said.

  Aleksi snorted, a living gesture. “If anything of great death occurred because of something here it was because they trespassed on soil that did not belong to them and we ushered them into the afterlife. Here is not a place for curiosity, and before the sun rises you too shall discover that.”

  “I think you misunderstand me,” Mal said, almost mocking the arrogance of the dead man. “Something here was the motivation that caused the Amaranth Empire to wipe out my sister and I’s home town. You killed nothing, but what is here was the cause for great death and destruction far from here. Cause and effect.”

  Aleksi looked dumbfounded by the statement. The vampires that followed him seemed equally angered by Mal’s comment, though they remained still. “How many perished at the hands of the Empire?” His voice was one of concern.

  “One hundred and sixty seven souls in New Picknell. More since. Not all innocent, but that’s the way of the world,” Mal said. Behind him he could hear the hushed voices of James and Chelsea as the apostle mended her wounds with The Way. “We have come here now because we know there is something hidden away here. In the mine not far from where we stand that was the cause for the death. We aim to find out what that cause was.”

  Aleksi hissed. “You will not.”

  “Will not what, Aleksi Oathman? Discover what’s in the mine, or discover why there seems to be a pack of rare vampires who hover right over it, fettered? Or perhaps you’d be so kind as to tell us why the Church of Souls has looked the other way for two decades while you held court here, sending everything away, or killing it.”

  “We will kill you as well Malwynn Everwalk. We will drink your blood and burn your body. Your presence here is a danger to all of Elmoryn and we shall do our duty.”

  “I disagree,” Umaryn said. Mal hadn’t heard her come to his side. “I believe you will think long and hard about this duty you speak of and have a change of heart. As sure as the sun will rise in the morning, Oathman, my brother and I will destroy all of you, and none of your kind will be left to carry out what duty you’ve sworn yourselves to. Better now to let us find the truth, and trust us with what’s best for Elmoryn, than die again for the last time and leave whatever secrets left behind here in New Falun exposed.”

  The vampire hissed again, this time at her. “And who might you be?”

  Umaryn took off her helm, revealing a sweaty face, and slicked down hair. “I am Umaryn Everwalk. Malwynn is my twin.”

  Oathman laughed. “An artificer sister and a necromancer brother drag a Varrlander soldier and an apostle to their deaths in the Eastern Wilds. Not a song sung by the bards in taverns often.”

  “They’ll be singing a song about how your bodies burnt in these decrepit hovels if you don’t leave us be, vampire,” Umaryn threatened, pointing at the homes she and Chelsea burnt down earlier in the day. The vampire sneered and her face remained stoic, solid as the iron rails that that linked all of Elmoryn together.

  “Now, now. Aleksi,” Mal said trying to buy the healer more time to recuperate and heal, “we are good people who seek only peace and truth. I can’t say we were always like that, but we came here on a mission to discover truth and find justice. Violence and the spreading of secrets wasn’t our goal. I believe it is fair of us to assume that you are here to prevent anyone from finding out what’s at the bottom of that mine, and I for one would like to find a way for us all to continue on with our existences after this night ends.”

  Aleksi shook his head vehemently. “There is no way for that to happen without your death. Our oath demands no one survives if they have come as far as you, unless of course…”

  “Of course what?” Mal asked, sensing an opportunity.

  “As a necromancer, you could learn your secrets, and then satisfy our oath by allowing us to kill the rest of you, and you could resurrect the others as vampires like us. Of course they would need to take the same oath we have, but our honor is great, and our existence noble. The apostle could attest as you swear your oath. You would of course die at the end, as you cannot animate yourself.”

  Mal shook his head in disgust, “I don’t mind dying, but I will not turn my loved ones into undead under any circumstances.”

  Aleksi sounded sad. “Then you will all die. I fear it will be a shame, but we will do what we must. The future of the Church of Souls and Elmoryn is far more important than your four good lives.”

  “The future of the Church of Souls?” Umaryn pressed, physically stepping closer to the undead menace just a few scant feet away. “Something here in this forsaken place puts the Church itself at risk eh? That would explain Alisanne’s fervor to have us killed. What here is so damning to the Church, Aleksi?”

  It was Aleksi’s turn to step forward. “You know the Bishop?” he asked as a challenge.

  “Of course we do,” she said. “She was our aunt. One of the original people who came to New Falun twenty odd years ago and discovered whatever it is you are protecting right now. She’s killed hundreds to keep this secret, as you have too, it would seem.”

  Aleksi sneered, and his fangs seemed to vibrate. “What do you mean ‘was your aunt?’”

  Mal answered him. “She failed to kill our parents here then. She sent the Empire to destroy our town to kill our parents, just months ago. We tracked her down and now she’s dead, the price of her fervor to protect the Church, it would appear.”

  The vampires began to wail into the dark night, struck with overwhelming grief and heartache. Some fell to the ground in sadness, clutching at their bellies, or covering eyes that refused to shed tears. Aleksi dropped to his knees and pummeled the hard earth and grass below out of anger and frustration.

  “Perhaps the wrong thing to say,” Umaryn whispered to her brother.

  Mal sounded angry, but remained hushed as the vampires wailed. “They love her. She set this up. All of this. But she couldn’t have done it alone. This would’ve required help from Empire necromancers. Making vampires is no mean feat, sister. Somehow, the Empire has a hand in this. Now explain to me why the Purple Queen of twenty years ago would help the Church her nation has sworn to hate.”

  “YOU SHALL PAY!” Aleksi screamed suddenly, vaulting to his feet and stepping forward, right at the fringe of the incantation that lingered.

  Neither twin flinched by the vampire’s lunge. The animals nearby whinnied and tried to break free of their tied reins, but they held firm. “We’ve lost everything, Oathman. We’ve nothing left to pay,” Mal said, unperturbed by Oathman’s threat.

  Aleksi’s eyes went to Chelsea, who had finally stood up and looked better after James’ ministrations. Mal caught the line of his glare, and felt turbulence in his belly. “We shall see what you have left to lose, Everwalk.”

  Aleksi turned and walked from the fallen holy site, beckoning his undead warriors to follow. Sobbing, wracked with anger and grief, glaring at the twins all the while, they followed him past the flames of the burning village, and back into the darkened, horrible forest.

  “They’ll be back with something horrible, I know it,” James said with his grainy voice.

  “Of course they will,” Umaryn said. “The question now is what brand of horrible, and how do we defend against it until dawn?”

  A crack of distant thunder followed by a shock of light across the clouds above told them more trouble of a different nature headed their way.

  From the deck of Bridgette Marie, miles above the plains of the Northern Protectorate, and the puffy white clouds b
elow, Samrale Overfist could see the flashes of lightning far to the south and east. A massive storm brewed over the horizon.

  He was thankful for the miles between the airship he stood atop and the wrath of Elmoryn.

  The vampires left their living foes for the better part of an hour. Just long enough for Mal to sit and rest his mind beside James, and for the women to stretch out their wearied bodies. All four ate jerky and hard bread, and drank ample water. When the rain drops fell one at a time, the dread built. When the drops turned into sheets of bone chilling cold, and dimmed the fires that illuminated against the darkness, the vampires struck from out of sight.

  A hurled spear appeared—an obsidian shaft of wood splitting the curtains of rain—and sailed just over Chelsea’s shoulder, narrowly avoiding splitting her arm from her body. The force of the spear moved her hair under her light helmet, and though it missed her, it still hit flesh beyond where she stood.

  The sound of one of their mounts being struck and immediately dying decayed their resolve. Chelsea looked back, and saw that the horse that had delivered James to New Falun had fallen on its side, the spear entering its body just behind the front leg, and exiting opposite. The wound was fatal, and the noises the horse made told her that the death would come quick.

  “Spears! They’re throwing spears!” Chelsea barked out as she dropped to a crouch. Another rocketed shaft of wood sailed over her head, directly at the horses and Bramwell.

  Mal’s eyes followed the trajectory of the spear towards the animals and winced. The spear missed the creatures, but if the vampires threw more… “We must protect the animals!” he said, more than a hint of panic in his voice.

  James watched his horse’s leg kick out ineffectually a final time in death. “Mal, make the wind blow! Throw the spears to the side!” the apostle yelled over the thrumming beat of the rain.

  Mal looked to the apostle and shook his head. “I don’t know that spell yet,” he said, defeated. Mal grabbed up an arrow and sent it flying into the darkness with his bow, hoping for a hit. The rain’s deafening fall defeated any chance of him hearing of success. A clap of distant thunder taunted him.

  James turned to the armor clad Umaryn. “Umaryn, can you make the wind blow? Protect the animals,” he pleaded.

  Umaryn turned from the dying horse and the now fully panicking mounts and shook her head. “I don’t know that spell either,” she said defeated. Another death-dealing shaft split the group, missing the humans but striking Tinder, Umaryn’s horse. The spear pierced the horse’s flank, and Tinder whinnied loudly, spinning to get away from the hornet sting of the spear. “Tinder!” she screamed, moving to her horse.

  More spears sailed in towards the mounts, and Malwynn watched as his Bramwell took a spear to the breast. The massive Gvorn shook its head and mane, snarling and bleating as a beast of war should. The tiny leather rein that had held the disciplined beast in place snapped as if it were no more than paper. The Gvorn—now set free—leapt the wall of the consecrated hall and rushed in the direction the spear had come from.

  “Bram! Stop!” Mal screamed to his massive black Gvorn, nearly invisible in the black of night and the rain. Overcome by the urge to defend itself, the beast didn’t listen, and it charged towards the center of town, leaping over the center train rail and heading around one of the many collapsed residences, heading towards the small stream that fed the town water. Somehow, the Gvorn knew where the vampires were.

  Lightning struck, bringing a split second of complete daylight to New Falun. Chelsea and Umaryn saw a single, wild vampire leaping from the roof of one of the sturdier buildings, trying to land on the back of the wooly horned animal.

  Exhibiting a skill for war and supernatural level of senses, the battle beast somehow timed its gallop, and as the vampire descended, it picked up an extra stride, causing the undead threat to fall to its rear. But Bramwell didn’t let it hit the grass. The beastly Gvorn launched both of its legs to the rear in a combined kick that hit the vampire just as the thunder came from the earlier lightning. Seemingly, the power of nature lent strength to the mount, and the vampire exploded from the kicks. An arm and the head launched free, end over end into the rain filled air as the remainder of the body hit the wet grass in the downpour. Bramwell spun quickly, the spear still stuck in his chest below his windpipe, and he reared up, trampling the already dead vampire into the thick mud. A moment later the Gvorn spun, and disappeared around the corner of the building, out of sight.

  “Wow,” Chelsea said as distant bellows and bleats from the Gvorn came again. Bramwell had found some of the vampires, and they were killing him, or he was killing them.

  A spear appeared again, descending in a tall arc, heading directly at Umaryn’s chest. Mal saw it, and tried to warn her, “Sister!” he yelled as he pointed, but it was too late.

  The spear fell from the black, wet sky like a hawk falling on an unaware rabbit. But this rabbit didn’t run, and it didn’t become prey.

  Malwynn watched with intense interest as the spear came to within a hand’s breadth from his sister’s red armored chest, and then somehow was deflected away. The spear’s trajectory skipped downward as if it had been slapped aside by a hand faster than the crack of a bullwhip. The spear lodged into the earth a few feet to the side of his sister, who now looked to him confused. She hadn’t seen how close she had come to death.

  “What?” she yelled back, still angry and hurt over Tinder’s wound.

  “You… Your armor,” Malwynn said over the din of the rain. He pointed at the spear stuck in the mud. “The armor deflected the spear.”

  Umaryn yanked off her helm foolishly and looked at the spear. Beside her James began to pray a new prayer. One that sounded angry and vengeful. “Artifact armor right?” she asked her brother. “Do you remember on the train, when we were heading to Davisville? The armor turned away an attack just like this. Perhaps my armor won’t be struck at range.” As if to test her hypothesis, another short spear darted on a flat line at her, and just like the last, the armor somehow slapped it away, and the wooden projectile smacked into the rocks of the hall, breaking apart into splinters.

  “I guess that settles it,” Malwynn said as another spear thudded into Tinder’s side, this time near the ribs. It would prove to be fatal unless they healed it.

  “James please, heal Tinder,” Umaryn begged before shoving her helm back onto her head.

  He shook his head as his prayer came to a finish. “No. I cannot spare the energy. We must bring them in close, lure them in. I’ve a spell prepared if we can.”

  Umaryn’s face changed from hurt to fury. “Heal my horse, apostle.”

  James took on the hurt from her, bearing the burden of sacrifice wholly on his shoulders, at his decision. “No Umaryn. If I heal your horse one of us might die. If you want your mount restored by the spirits of the dead then we must bring the vampires to me. I must cleanse them first.”

  “I got it,” Chelsea said, and she bolted outside of the clearing towards where Bramwell had charged.

  “Chelsea!” Mal screamed. He tried to follow her but James and Umaryn grabbed him, stopping his departure. The necromancer snarled at his sister and friend, ready to bite them to be set free if needed. “Let me free! She’ll be hurt!” Mal screamed as a threat.

  “Let her. She’s smarter than them,” Umaryn said, gripping her brother forcefully by the shoulder armor. “She knows what she’s doing.”

  “She does, now gather around me. Umaryn, you’ll need to shield us from the spears for a moment. Don’t let me get hit. If this works, I should be able to mend Tinder and we might even see the sun rise,” James said with a drenched face and a weary smile. Another peal of thunder rumbled above the gorge, shaking the ground and sky alike.

  Mal looked over his shoulder as Chelsea sprinted across the rail line and towards certain doom. He began to ready a necromantic spell as a prayer to the ancestors came across his own mind.

  Chelsea rounded the gap between two rows of
run down cottages right where the leaping vampire had been kicked apart by Bramwell, and skidded to a stop in the slick, muddy grass. The gentle slope of New Falun’s terrain terminated at the edge of the stream. Rivers a yard wide ran down the dirt, turning the previously dry earth into greasy black mud laced with traces of vampire and Gvorn blood. Standing in a bruising maelstrom at the edge of the water stood nearly a score of the undead and a surrounded Bramwell. Many of the vampires held spears similar to the ones that pierced the horses in the consecrated hall, but now they were corralling the beast, poking and jabbing at it viciously as it reared high to trample, and blasted out its legs to its hind. When the hooves connected with vampire flesh, the muscle bound beast pulverized the vampire bodies.

  But this was a battle it couldn’t win. There were too many vampires with too much hunger.

  “Hey!” she screamed over the buzz and thunder of the rain. “Leave Bramwell alone!”

  Each of the vampires snapped away from the Gvorn in unison, chilling her even colder underneath the frigid precipitation. “Food!” one of them screeched, and they all ran at her, leaving the black mount behind.

  “Shit,” Chelsea muttered as she turned and propelled herself back towards the hall. The mud defied her boots, causing her to slip and nearly fall, giving the undead closing in on her a chance to shorten her lead. As her boots found purchase on the slippery slope, she felt a blinding streak of pain across her lower back, just above the tailbone.

  “Traitor!” a feminine and dead voice in her ear cackled as she leapt forward into a roll. She knew she couldn’t stop and fight, she had to run, so she did. As she put one foot in front of the other she prayed for strength and speed, and just a little bit of luck. She reached the train tracks and leapt up the slight embankment and over them, sliding down the other side on her ravaged backside, sending sparks of light into her eyes and shooting pain up and down her body from heel to hair. She cried out and watched as Malwynn drew his bow string and sent an arrow no more than a hand’s width past her head. Something impossibly close yelped in pain behind her, and she heard a wet thud as it collapsed to the ground. Another arrow followed the first, and something else was hit, screaming out in agony.