Death's Knight

by Jena Rey

  His words tumbled after each other in their hurry to get out of his mouth, tangling together into a merry accent she’d never experienced before. Ephema blinked, having a difficult time following everything he was saying. She looked up at Tabor and caught an odd, fond expression on the Knight’s face before he covered it. He held up his hand, stopping the priest’s chatter.

  “Ephema, allow me to introduce you to Brother Adaman. Given a chance he will talk your ear off, but forgive him that, and you’ll see he is a good sort.” He turned to Adaman. “Brother, this is Ephema. She has a message for High Priest Calinin at the Temple.”

  Ephema inclined her head to Adaman though she was puzzled at the introduction. She didn’t really have a message for the High Priest, unless he meant the vison that still made her shudder when she thought too deeply about it. Mostly she had questions, but she wasn’t sure why Knight Tabor was saying so little. They hadn’t hesitated to tell the Knight Proctor everything, but maybe it was different here, especially standing in the middle of the street.

  Adaman nodded with a self-effacing smile. “It’s true what he says good lady…” For the first time since they’d met, his gaze met Ephema’s full on. She felt something strange pass between them, a sensation that made the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck prickle. It didn’t seem dangerous, but it was like he was reading her down to the very soul. His eyes grew wide and his voice fell to a whisper as he muttered, “Holy Dark Father, Daughter of Light.” He made an odd noise and dropped to the ground, pressing his forehead to the cobble in front of her feet, ignoring the dust and the growing heat of the day. “My Lady.”

  Ephema was startled by his drop and stepped back, nearly knocking into a merchant cart piled high with colorful blankets. “Tabor? What…What is he doing?”

  Tabor studied Adaman for a moment, not hurrying to make him get up. “Adaman has a gift. With his sight, he is able to see into a person and help guide them down their path without error. Adaman has been blessed by the Dark One to see a person or an object’s potential, at least to a degree.” A wisp of a smile tugged at his face. “I believe you’ve terrified him.”

  He bent down and grabbed Adaman’s robe and, with little effort, hauled the man to his feet. Tabor gave Adaman a little shake to get his attention. “Now, Brother Adaman, stop making our guest uncomfortable. You will stop making a scene in public. This is not the time or place. Am I clear?” There was no malice in his voice, but a firm finality.

  Adaman shook his head, blinking a few times and finally focusing his gaze on Tabor. “I…but…she’s…I…”

  “By the Dark One.” A full smile creased Tabor’s face. “Ephema, you’ve done something I’ve never seen before.” He turned and patted her on the shoulder, careful not to knock her off balance. “You’ve made Adaman speechless.”

  Adaman scowled and rubbed at a spot of dirt on his forehead. Ephema thought he meant to rub it off, but all he managed was to spread the dirt around. “You tease. She’s…this changes everything.”

  Tabor’s smiled eased, and he nodded. “It’s why we brought her here. The High Priest needs to know.”

  “You think?!” Admana burst into laughter, shaking his head which made it look like he was in the center of a whispy snow storm. “That is quite the message. The best I’ve heard in ages! The High Priest is an old man. He may not survive the experience. Come, come, both of you. I’ll find the most direct way there!”

  The rest of the trip through the city was a much noisier affair. Adaman recovered from his shock and kept up a running commentary as they walked. Unlike Tabor’s general view of the city, Adaman knew almost everything about Hawthan and rambled on as though he couldn’t stop himself from sharing his knowledge. He pointed out everything, big and little: a small garden planted in an alleyway, a fish monger to avoid because he used strange bait, a small bakery he required them to stop at because they had ‘divine’ biscuits, and other unique oddities that gave the city a new and distinct depth in Ephema’s eyes.

  Ephema didn’t know if the biscuits were actually heavenly, but she had to admit they were amazing. The vendor must have expected Adaman, as he had a package of pastries at hand when the priest approached. Adaman opened the package right there and demanded Ephema try one in front of the rotund baker. She’d done so, and pleased him with her delighted expression. The biscuit was light and delicate, studded with little berries that popped on her tongue in a delightful way.

  She was licking the last of the berry juice off of her fingers when Adaman directed them down a side alley. She hesitated, looking between the men and the spires of the High Temple, which they were turning away from. Her gaze fastened on Tabor. “Wait. Isn’t the building we want over there?”

  “Indeed, it is.” Tabor pointed down the alley with the last bite of his sweetroll in hand. “However, entering by the front door at this hour would take us far too long as we made introductions, gave explanations, endured Brother Adaman’s jokes…”

  “Hey!”

  “…and other interruptions that would take far too much time.” Tabor’s eyes twinkled with mirth, the first time Ephema had seen that expression in all the time she’d known him. He seemed to take great delight in teasing Adaman.

  Tabor continued, as though Adaman wasn’t huffing like a steamer. “So, we’re going to enter through a back door, avoiding all the noise and bustle, and quietly make our way to the High Priest. I do not know if he will be available now or we will have to wait, but waiting inside will be more comfortable. It is the route we would have taken, even if we had not been joined by such esteemed company.”

  Adaman settled at the title ‘esteemed’ and nodded, leaving Ephema wondering if the word applied to her or him. “It’s wisest. When this oaf returns home there is no end to his popularity. If he walked through the main doors with a young woman in tow, regardless of your actual situation, chaos would break loose.” A grin spread over his face, and he walked backward for several steps as they went. “While that would be fun, I am more interested in seeing you stand before the High Priest. I knew change was coming. I’ve been telling them so since the last rise of the full moon.”

  Ephema’s brow furrowed as she listened and tried to follow his words. There were so many levels to the conversation, she was sure she was missing something. Though she wasn’t sure what she should ask, even if she wanted to. “I see.”

  The path took them in a slow arc around the back of the High Temple to a courtyard Ephema recognized as being similar to those in Aserian and Tallet. She concluded they must base all of the small temple designs on this big one, at least where there was space to copy the construction.

  Adaman stopped them at the well, drawing water so they could drink and remove any remaining stickiness from their hands and faces. He straightened the front of his robe and looked Ephema and Tabor over as though making sure they looked presentable enough to enter the temple. He nodded and strode to a small back door, rapping smartly on the wood with the attached knocker. The thick door swung back to show the face of a wizened older woman, who squinted up at him in the morning light.

  “Good morning, dear Yazza. If you’ll just scoot there to one side, I have Knight Tabor and a guest to see the High Priest. I’ll just take them to his antechamber to wait. I know the way. He’s going to want to meet this young woman as soon as possible.”

  The skin around her eyes wrinkled, and Yazza rubbed her nose. “This time of morning? Even for Knight Tabor it’d take some time.” Her gaze landed on Ephema, and her eyes widened. She gave a soft shriek, pressing her hands over her heart. “Dark Father…Elaina… You, you’re alive! You’ve come back to us!”

  “No, Yazza. Not Elaina, but you’re close.” Tabor’s voice was gentle as he pushed the door fully open, careful not to harm the old woman, and gestured for Ephema to go in. “But please let the High Priest know that Elaina’s daughter, Ephema, has come to visit, and she would very much like to speak with him at his earliest opportunity.”

&nb
sp; Tears streaked the woman’s cheeks, and she blotted at them and sniffed deeply. “A-At once!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Yazza ushered the little group through the back hallways of the High Temple, which were lit by widely spaced sconces burning low pots of oil that had a soft musky scent to them. They seemed to be as much for the scent as for any light they might produce as wide windows set much higher into the wall lit the temple during the day, and covered lanterns burned at night.

  There were many people moving through these hallways, all in robes or armor, but the hall was wide enough that there was never a feeling of being crowded; it was the largest building Ephema had ever been inside, and she found it beautiful and terrifying all at once. Unlike her cave, which had been close and comfortable, this space felt like it might all come down on her at once. She wasn’t sure she liked it and moved closer to Tabor.

  He noticed the small adjustment and smiled a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. This is the safest place for leagues in any direction.”

  Ephema shook her head and pushed loose hair back from her face. “It’s just… It’s like a hollow mountain, but it doesn’t…” She searched for the words, aware that both Yazza and Adaman were listening even if they didn’t look directly at her. “It feels dead.”

  “Well, of course it’s dead.” Tabor gestured to the skulls adorning his armor and bone maul. “We serve the God of the Afterlife, after all. We serve the living by helping their souls reach their proper place after they pass. You are the only one here that serves the Goddess of the Living.”

  Yazza’s eyes widened at the statement, and the old woman’s mouth moved soundlessly before she turned away, moving to push a door open leading into a central chamber. It was at the back of the temple, in the sections where the Brethren went about their work closed off from the daily visits of the faithful.

  Ephema made a face at Tabor, though her shoulders relaxed slightly. “That is not what I meant. I will try not to fear.”

  “That’s all I ask. Many things are changing for you, but it does not have to be a bad thing.” Tabor’s words were kind, though his pace was still quicker than his normal stride, making Ephema stretch to keep up. He held the door open for her, Adaman, and Yazza before entering last.

  Two people looked up as the small group entered. The man bore a striking resemblance to Darian, though younger and with a much thinner build. His face seemed etched with a permanent frown, one which deepened in displeasure at the interruption that had entered the chamber. His voice carried nearly the same inflection as he grumbled. “Interruptions. Why is there always something interrupting?”

  The woman, an older woman with silver in her hair and time etched on her face, smiled disarmingly. “Don’t mind Fressin, please. Welcome back, Knight Tabor, Brother Adaman, and esteemed visitor. To what do we owe this delightful excuse to stop staring at these interesting, but very dusty tomes?”

  Fressin snarled, his brows gathering between his eyes. His thick eyebrows almost seemed to bristle as though he were an angry boar. “Don’t insult the tomes! The answer’s in here, I know it! We just have to keep looking. We will find a solution.”

  “Looking at words that move as you read might excite you, Fressin, but it makes my head hurt after the first six hours.” The woman stretched, rubbing her back and nodded to Tabor and Ephema. “I am Priestess Sian, and welcome to the Hawthan Temple.” Sian glanced at Ephema and her eyes narrowed in thought. “And you, my dear, look familiar. Have we met?”

  Ephema blinked, the question drawing her attention away from the man who looked so much like Darian, but acted nothing like him. She remembered Darian had spoken of his family and a younger brother who loved books, but this wasn’t what she’d pictured. In her mental picture Fressin had been plump and charming with spectacles, not angular and crabby.

  “No. I do not think we could have met. This is my first time here.” Ephema spoke up when Tabor let the silence draw out. “But, my father was a Knight. Maybe you knew him.”

  Sian sized Ephema up with a glance. “Mm, well, you look a bit small to be volunteering to follow in his footsteps, so you must be here for some other purpose then.” Her smile took on a disarming charm. “There are, of course, plenty of other ways to serve our Lord Osephetin. Fressin here, for example, is one of our temple scholars.”

  “Beg your pardon, Priestess, but I don’t think a Daughter of the Eternal Mother would volunteer to join in servitude to Lord Osephetin.” Tabor smiled at the look that crossed Sian’s face. “She’s already bound to one Goddess; I doubt she’s in a position to swear fealty to another.”

  “What? But that’s impossible. The old gods are lost, save for our Lord Osephetin.”

  Ephema blew a puff of air out, blowing a lock of hair away from her face. “That wasn’t nice, Knight Tabor.” She scolded, feeling her stomach tighten. She had kept the secret so long that it was odd hearing him share it. And what if they shared it with the wrong person? It was obvious not everyone would welcome or trust a Daughter after all that had happened with the Sisters. How would most people even know the difference?

  Adaman waved a hand toward Ephema, his eyes lighting with excitement. “Oh, come now, my dear, Sian. Impossible is hardly a word a Priestess of Osephetin should be using! We deal with the impossible nearly every day of our lives. Look at her with your inner sight, with the eyes of Osephetin, and you’ll see Knight Tabor’s truth. Not that we should be telling just anyone, but the news will not be quiet for long among the upper echelon.”

  Wary, Sian’s gaze went to Adaman, then to Tabor, then to Ephema and back again. “This is all very unusual, but all right. If you could look directly at me, please, my dear?” When Ephema did so, Sian looked deep into her eyes. Sian’s gaze went unfocused, and, after a second, she stepped backwards with a gasp of shock, her face going pale.

  “By the Dark One! An honest to the gods Daughter!” She strode forward and knelt before Ephema, taking Ephema’s hands and grasping them so hard Ephema had to bite her lip to keep from crying out in pain. “Forgive me for doubting you, but given how many of your Sisters are…how do I put this?”

  Sardonically, Fressin piped up from behind her, not nearly as impressed by the announcement. “Out of their minds? Twisted bitches? Lethally crazy? Am I getting close yet?”

  “Well, yes. Those things. Not how I’d put it, but apt, I suppose.”

  Ephema glanced at Fressin, raising her eyebrows at the near accusation in his voice. “I know. We fought some on the road. They are warped. The touch of the Mother in them is tainted. It is terrible, and very sad.”

  “You claim you fought them? And you survived?” The disdain dripped from Fressin’s voice as he crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Color me doubtful, but I’d be hard pressed to see how any of you made it out of there. Unless you had lots of sacrificial friends to throw behind you as you ran away.”

  Tabor glared at Fressin, but the withering look had little effect on the wiry man. “We fought them, yes, though we did not defeat them. We escaped. Ephema killed two with your brother’s mace before we retreated to safety.”

  “She did not. You can’t kill those things.” Fressin motioned at Tabor with his thumb. “But, you agree you fled, right?”

  “Think what you will, but do not insult my truth again, or we will have more than words between us, Librarian. You’d have fared worse against their kind.”

  “Of course, I would have, I’m no fighter. But, I’m also not fool enough to have gone up against a group of Sisters in the first place.” Fressin stood up, the noise of his chair masking the sound of the door opening in the far wall. As he talked, Darian and Lauret entered from the far side of the room behind him and walked toward the group.

  “All of you are going to wind up getting yourselves killed one of these days.” Fressin continued, his angry gaze trying to bore a hole through Tabor. “Whether it be from the Sisters or some of these roaming undead, I don’t know, but mark my words, every single
one of you is going to wind up on a slab somewhere, and it’s going to be me left to perform your rites. There is nothing to be gained from all this violence. These foolhardy missions. Gah!”

  He threw up his hands in disgust and shook his head. “They make me sick. The only good thing about them is all the new information you Knights keep somehow finding. But no scroll’s worth losing all of these people.” He slammed his fist down on the research table, looking much like his brother for an instant. “And the more information we find, the more active the Lich gets. If my mother or my brother falls on one of these missions, I’m holding each of you responsible. I swear it!”

  Ephema stepped forward before anyone else could. The room felt increasingly crowded, but the anger and pain in Fressin called to her. She remembered Darian’s stories about their lost father. Fressin would have been so young, and to live in a place where his family continually ventured out into danger, and he didn’t know if they would come back was far too close to her own memories. She knew something of the pain of loss.

  Ephema touched his hand where it rested on the table, the knuckles red with the beginnings of a bruise. With a silent prayer, soft healing magic flowed from her fingertips, wrapping around the injury. Her voice was low, and she was aware that all eyes in the room were watching her as she said, “The Lich is active because he fears your brother and his brethren. He fears what they find. He fears what someone like you will learn. So, he creates fear in others and feeds on it to help himself. Your brother and your mother would not fight so hard if they thought it was useless.”