Death's Knight

by Jena Rey

  Darian took in a breath and held it for a moment, sending up a silent prayer for inspiration. “I must beg your forgiveness for my deception, Guardsman Snelson.” He offered the apology before bringing his full attention to the Mayor. “I do not know where the cattle are, though there are a few in the meadow three trails off the main roadway.”

  At the words, a few men slipped from the back of the crowd, hurrying away. Darian hoped they were going after the animals he’d seen. That might help the village soften toward Ephema. He refocused on the Mayor who seemed about to launch into a tirade. “I do, however, have questions for you, Sir. Why, by the name of all that is holy, with the number of undead in these lands would you close Osephetin’s temple and live without his priests? Are you mad? Without them, who gives rituals to your dead? Who keeps the fires of the Eternal Flame? Osephetin does not demand that your town worship him, but it is folly to refuse his disciples when they would aid you.”

  Mayor Trevin’s eyes widened fractionally with guilt, but he merely snorted. “I assure all that the council handles such things. We do not need the flames of your order, nor your Knights to take care of our own. I cannot believe I came away from important meetings to be lectured by a whelp with absolutely no proof that you even ARE connected with the order. I require neither your approval nor your God. The Disciples have never done anything for us that we cannot do for ourselves. As we have proven such in their absence. You see the bones crushed before our gates. We can turn away the undead. We are the masters of our own fate!” His voice rose as he spoke, addressing not only Darian, but the crowd, who murmured in agreement. “Get this man out of my sight.”

  “Uh, sir?” The guardsman to the Mayor’s right shifted nervously. “If…if he really is with the Knights…umm…he has a right to sanctuary at the temple.”

  Darian latched onto the suggestion, silently thanking Osephetin that not everyone in the town was as corrupt as the Mayor. “A claim I so make,” He said quickly. He glanced over the crowd, resting his hand on the grip of his mace, but making no effort to draw it. “Think carefully, though, good people. What kind of man turns away those who would help and protect you?”

  Mayor Trevin glared at the guard, who wilted before his gaze and stared at his feet, shuffling in the dirt. The Mayor snarled, the expression ugly and defiant. “He’s not a Knight. He’s a charlatan trying to throw his weight around. If he was really a Knight, he would have shown up last night when we were under attack, not waited until midday. He’s probably in league with the mountain witch and trying to frighten us into compliance. I am your duly elected Mayor. I am the one who has taken care of you! Throw him out. If he resists…” He looked at the Sergeant. “Then you know your duty.”

  The guards looked at each other, a couple making half-hearted steps toward Darian before stopping. It seemed the Mayor’s change in religious devotion wasn’t universal. Finally, the Sergeant straightened and took a breath. His fingers flexed around the hilt of his sword before releasing it. He touched a piece of braided leather wrapped around a yellowed piece of bone, holding it against his wrist. “You heard him, Sir. Are you going to go of your own will or do you need convincing?”

  The sight of the talisman was welcome to Darian who was beginning to feel very young and very outnumbered. The Mayor might be corrupt, and there was no doubt his corruption had tainted the other leaders of the town, but there were still the faithful among the people. He had to have faith. Darian shook his head, considering his options in the space of a heartbeat. “I will go of my own will. I will go to the Temple of Osephetin. I claim sanctuary in the home of my God.”

  The Sergeant nodded, and Darian was certain he saw relief in the man’s gaze. “I’m sorry, Mayor. He has the right to sanctuary. If he is a fraud, Lord Osephetin will punish him for his claim.”

  Mayor Trevin gave an enraged shout and lunged forward, sweeping a sword out of one of the other guardsman’s hands. “I’ll not be a prisoner to false traditions! I’ll rid us of him myself, and you can find your replacement!”

  He slashed at Darian, not without skill, but skill which was buried beneath years of heavy living. The strike was true to its mark, but slow, and by the time it landed Darian was no longer where he’d been, ducking to one side. The sword dug into the wooden gate, pushing into the aging wood and sticking fast.

  Darian tugged his mace free and spun it, slapping the wooden shaft across the Mayor’s hand savagely. It wasn’t enough to break bone, but Trevin yelped in pain and released the trapped sword, cradling his hand against his chest. A quick turn, and the spiked mace’s edge tucked neatly under Trevin’s fat chins. Darian smiled as the crowd fell to a hushed silence.

  He kept his voice calm, though there was an edge to it. He hadn’t invited violence, but he was certainly going to defend himself from it. “Now, maybe we can have this conversation a bit more rationally.”

  The Mayor’s throat convulsed as he swallowed against the metal. “Bastard. I’m not afraid of you, even if you are what you claim. Get out of my town.”

  “Until we clear some things up, it’s no longer your town. There’s far too many things going on here that are wrong, and you seem to be at the center of all of it.” Darian glanced at the Sergeant. “I didn’t hear your name Sergeant, but I thank you for your restraint. Am I wrong in thinking that there is a town restriction against attacking someone like that? It seems like we have a lot of witnesses that I didn’t strike first.”

  “Indeed, we do.” The Sergeant bridged the gap between them, catching the Mayor by the shoulder. “He’ll be put under detention for now, pending investigation. You’ll be required to stay in the town until this is resolved. Given you were already going to the temple, I do not believe this will be a problem. Do I need to ask you to swear on it?”

  Darian lowered the mace before it could do more harm than scraping a layer of skin from Mayor Trevin’s throat. He grinned at the delight the Sergeant was taking in wrenching the Mayor’s arms behind him and wondered how long the Sergeant had been waiting for an excuse for just such a moment. “No, Sir. I will be at the temple until things are set to rights there.”

  “Good.”

  Several men slipped away from the back of the crowd, though Darian couldn’t see them well enough to decide if they looked guilty or bored. He put his mace away and inclined his head. “To the Eternal Rest.”

  The Sergeant cocked his head, pushing the Mayor in front of him. “To the Eternal Rest. Snelson will show you the way to the Temple. Try to get there without causing any more ruckus.” Mayor Trevin protested each step, but his Sergeant paid no attention to the noises, bustling him along with brusque efficiency.

  The crowd fell away as quickly as it had formed, though not without many long looks at Darian and the retreating form of the Mayor. Rumor and question would be rampant within only minutes. Darian decided that, more than ever, he needed back up, and he prayed the temple would help him get it. Hopefully before his very presence caused a riot.

  Snelson, the gatekeeper, approached, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

  Darian rolled his shoulders, trying to get the tension that had gathered there to go away. “It wasn’t exactly what I was intending, but I get the impression your Mayor has been up to no good for a long time.” He paused, then added. “Don’t be surprised if you see others of my Order arrive in the next day or two. I’m going to send a message. They should be full Knights and easy to recognize, but I do not know who is nearby. I’d suggest letting them in without any fuss.”

  “I suppose we can do that. I personally always liked the Knights. Good folk, if a little strange.” He scratched his rather large nose, flicking away a piece of dirt or snot, Darian didn’t look closely enough to see which and didn’t want to know. “Kinda like Ephema. She’s not so bad either, no matter what the Mayor says, and she doesn’t bring the evil eye. She’s odd, but just a slip of a thing. Harmless, you know?”

  “I know. I’ve met her.” Darian
admitted as he walked along, keeping an eye out in case anyone decided to take further issue with his presence. He wasn’t certain Ephema was harmless, but he didn’t believe she was evil either.

  Snelson sniffed, clearing his nose again. “Thought you might have. It seemed too much coincidence that Trevin went off to confront her this morning and then you showed up. It’s a good thing that she’s got a friend. She’s a nice girl. Polite. Helpful. Gave my daughter help with birthing pains when she had my grandson. I don’t know why so many people get all upset about Ephema. She’s never done anyone harm as I know.” He shrugged. “But people are odd.”

  Darian couldn’t argue that, and they fell into silence as Snelson showed him through the town. As a whole, the town seemed fairly prosperous, even given the dire times and whatever mischief their leaders were up to. Yes, it was worn down, but the small river dock bustled with industry, and people came and went selling wares and exchanging greetings.

  They entered into a quieter section of town, and Snelson came to a stop, gesturing toward a sagging building a bit farther down the street. “That’d be the temple there.” He chuckled. “And seems you’ve already got a guest.”

  Darian looked where Snelson was pointing and saw Ephema curled up in a small alcove between two buildings.

  “I’ll leave you to it. If’n you get hungry, the food is good at the Tapper and they don’t water the ale, much.”

  Darian nodded, though he didn’t look away from Ephema. “Thank you.”

  He didn’t watch as Snelson strode away. Instead, he crossed to where Ephema sat on the ground with her arms draped around her knees. “After all the things the fat Mayor said, this is the last place I’d have expected you to come. But I’m glad to see you, Ephema.”

  She tilted her head as he spoke her name and a little smile turned her lips. In the light, the tattered state of her clothing and the dirt that clung to her skin was more apparent, but she seemed unbothered. He also realized she was younger than he had thought, near his own twenty-three years. “I wanted to see what you would do. I worried there would be blood.”

  “Thankfully, there wasn’t. I’m not sure if it will remain that way. I think I only accomplished as much as I did because I surprised him. That won’t last.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. My Father said that men such as the Mayor surround themselves with snakes. When one is surrounded by snakes it is easy to be bitten.” She shook her head slowly. “He is a mean man. He kicks his wife and children. Maybe it would be good if a snake bit him.”

  Darian blinked at her comparison, not entirely sure how much of her point was literal versus figurative. He shrugged. “Maybe, but he’s being held tonight and that’s good enough for me. I need to go to the temple. I’ve stirred the hornet’s nest and asked for sanctuary, so that will be my only safe place in town right now.” He shook his head wryly, continuing, “Not that I expect even that to remain so for very long. But hopefully the temple aviary hasn’t been destroyed, and I can get some help with more authority than I have to help me untangle this mess.”

  Ephema nodded, pushing to her feet and rubbing the dirt from her hands on her skirt. “It was once a beautiful building. I was sad when it went dark and the Priest no longer answered the door.”

  “They were all beautiful once.” Darian lapsed into silence as they approached the temple. The building had, as Ephema insisted, been beautiful in the past. The tall building had been built with marble and granite, the old stone still visible under dirt and disrepair. What had once gleamed white was now dirty grey with cracks that ran across the face of the stone. The wide double oak doors hung at an angle, possibly jammed from the inside.

  Darian frowned as he approached. He knew many of the temples were not taken care of as well as they should have been, but this showed long years of neglect. “Tell me again what happened here? How long has the temple been abandoned?”

  Ephema approached the door, running her fingers along the front panels where there had once been elegant etchings and carvings. Now they were just faded memories of the past, full of dirt and coal dust. “The Knights left five years ago. They had a mission that called them away. One priest stayed behind, an old man named Cerenus. I liked him, but I haven’t seen him for many seasons either. A few moons ago others came. They said they were Followers, not Knights.” She thought for a moment, counting on her fingers. “There were seven or eight of them, I think. Their armor was not good. They were all loud, drinking too much and making the Aunties uncomfortable. They tried to get into the temple, but could not get very far. They broke the doors. I was not sad when the Mayor kicked them out of town.”

  “Knights don’t make a nuisance of themselves. I have never heard of someone from our order calling themselves Followers as a group. Most worshippers of Lord Osephetin that do not become Knights are either casual worshipers, or Disciples who are a part of the priesthood.” His frown deepened as he tried to piece together what might have happened. “What happened after the Mayor kicked them out of town?”

  Ephema looked over her shoulder at him, tilting her head slightly. She still seemed leery, though much less so than she had this morning. “That was when he began talking to the people about the superiority of worshipping Neikan.”

  “Convenient that they gave him a reason to lead the people astray. It sounds like there is a lot more to this than the Mayor just being a bastard.” Darian watched as Ephema worked around the ruined door. Her tone and mannerisms regarding the facility were those of someone familiar with the inner workings of a small temple, though Darian wondered how a girl from the mountains knew any of these things. How much more did she know that she wasn’t telling him?

  Everything he saw in this town bothered him, leaving Darian painfully aware of how alone he was. His hand brushed the pouch where the precious scroll case was hidden. As much as he wanted to solve the mysteries here, he was reminded that he had little time to spare. If he could get some of his brethren here, he could go to Hawthan with a clear conscience and maybe an escort. He turned his attention back to Ephema as she grunted, her shoulder wedged under the door latch as she tried to lift it. She caught her lip between her lower teeth and pushed again. “We need to go in. I feel something, but the door is stuck.”

  “If you’ll move, I’ll try.” She nodded, and Darian waited for her to get clear, aware of how she kept from touching him as she moved by. He hated that she was still afraid of him. He hadn’t meant to cause such harm, but what was done was done. Time to dwell on it later. He climbed into her spot and squared up so he could push with his entire body. With a grunt, he lifted up and, with a squeal of protest, the latch gave way. The door didn’t swing open easily, but he gestured her over and together they pushed until there was enough space to pass.

  Chapter Three

  The air that whooshed out of the building was musty and oppressive, and Ephema turned away, coughing. Once it cleared, she wrinkled her nose as she peered into the foyer which was lit only by the light allowed through the partially open door and a couple of slits up high where the stone was open to daylight. Darian stepped into the building first, with a confidence she didn’t feel. This place held echoes of her childhood, a time when she and her parents had visited frequently, but now slipping past the crumbled stones was like stepping into a broken past.

  The interior was, if anything, in worse condition than the outside. The elements had not been kind to the artwork on the walls, and the floors and ceiling were cracked and crumbling. A few long wooden beams from the ceiling hung askew, revealing holes to the outside making way for rain, wind, and bird nests. What hadn’t been ruined had been stolen, pedestals that had once held small artifacts or books empty and pushed over. Ephema wanted to believe the local people would not disturb the temple, but she knew the desperation of need and want which sometimes drove people to do things they would be ashamed of in better circumstances. If the Disciples weren’t here to take care of the temple, how much of a jump was it to think Osephetin had abandon
ed it – and them – as well?

  She raised her hand, pointing toward the double doors that separated the receiving area from the chapel. “The chapel and Eternal Flame are through there.” She drew closer, peering at the deep gouges on the doors where someone had tried to open them and failed. These wooden doors weren’t as heavy as the outer doors, but they had held. “It is not a big temple.”

  Darian nodded, finishing his circuit around the room and coming to the doors. “They rarely are in outlying towns, but it’s bigger than the shrines at way stations or in the outlands. This is big enough to service the population, and should have sleeping chambers, an aviary, and hopefully a working well, somewhere.”

  Ephema ran her fingers across a large scratch in the door before resting her hand on the latch. “The well is in the back.” She remembered that much and the small cloister rooms that circled the chapel where she used to play, but she hadn’t been inside since before the Knight in Residence, and her parents, had left.

  She pushed the latch, expecting it to be as tightly jammed as the outer doors had been and jumped back in surprise when the doors fell back with little effort, the hinges not even squeaking. A tickling sensation ran across her skin, like a puff of warm air, somehow familiar and welcoming, as though the temple had been waiting for the right people to arrive.

  She looked over her shoulder at Darian, but he didn’t seem to have felt it and was still talking. As he stepped aside to avoid tripping on a smashed and discarded urn, he continued, “Depending on what kind of hurry the Disciples were in when they left, we might even be able to find you some footwear or clothing.”

  Ephema raised both of her eyebrows and glanced at her toes. “Is there a problem with my feet?”