Descent Into Darkness (Book 2) (20 page)

The entire group was silent for a few moments, the only sounds being the low hum of the conversations at the other fires. At first, Iacane returned Ean's stare with a haughty one of his own, but something he saw in Ean's face slowly changed that. When the smug expression had been completely wiped from his face, Iacane looked away and finally spoke.

"I'm sure not all Healers are tricksters. I've seen firsthand what some of your concoctions can do, and they are effective to a degree. They can leave terrible scars though, and bones can heal wrong if not set perfectly. Magical healing eliminates those risks and many other risks associated with medicinal healing techniques."

"You always seem to gloss over the risks to the Saniteal, Iacane," Sadiek said, shooting a glance in Ean's direction before quickly looking away. "For every story you've told, I've heard just as many about other Saniteals that pushed themselves too far and died, often killing the other person in the process as well."

"Bah, bunch of fools. Rushing into healings blindly, trying to take in too much, too fast. Or worse, thinking they can cure what can't be cured. Arrogant idiots, the lot of them, especially since it puts the lives of those they are trying to heal in danger as well."

A crooked smile appeared on Sadiek's face. "Oh, they were all arrogant, were they? And what exactly are your reasons for wanting to travel into the Deadlands?"

"My reasons are none of your business, thank you very much! I could ask the same thing of every one of you, except I'm not that rude. Fredren wants to make his silly maps and Creg was forced to come on this journey, that's obvious. Your reasons and especially this boy's," he said, gesturing to Ean, "are the most mysterious."

Sadiek replied to Iacane's accusatory tone with a laugh. "I'm a scholar of all things, and the least studied area is certainly the Deadlands and its inhabitants. Not many people try to determine the culture of the Living Dead."

"Living dead?!" Ean cut in, rising quickly. "I was never told we were going to a place populated by zombies and ghouls."

The other three burst into laughter, obviously at Ean's expense. So, the talk about zombies had just been Sadiek's attempt at a joke. Fine, fine. Ean could take a joke after all. Sitting down, he joined in their laughter.

"I should have known. Zombies and ghouls are just made up in stories meant to scare little children. They don't really exist. You were just having a joke at the expense of someone from a secluded village. Very funny."

Sadiek stopped his laughing although the other two continued. "No, boy, we are not laughing because they are make-believe. Zombies and ghouls are nasty business, usually raised by Nexmortis. Those types of creatures, though, are called the UnDead".

"The Living Dead," he continued, moving closer so he could be heard over the laughter of the others, "are those that were affected by the Plague. You have at least heard about the Plague, yes?"

"The one that killed off everything in the land?"

"A common misconception. The Plague didn't kill everything; it simply corrupted and twisted the majority of the life in the land before it was halted. Many living beings were corrupted to the point that they are unrecognizable, but others, like many of the people that couldn't escape it, were not changed in a way that is easy to see. Their corruption exists on the inside of their bodies and slowly works its way out."

"So then these 'Living Dead' don't eat other people?" Ean thought it was a legitimate question, but it aroused a whole new wave of laughter from Fredren and Iacane. Even Sadiek looked like he had to struggle to hold back his own laughter.

"No, no. Humans are not on their menu. They mostly eat food grown in their own lands, but that's part their problem. Food grown there is corrupted just like everything else, and it helps speeds up their own body's corruption. Their bodies are slowly dying, you see, the corruption eating away at them while their body fights it. That's the point of these caravans; they bring up non-corrupted food for the Living Dead. Normal food keeps them looking human. Well, as human as possible."

Looking at the long line of wagons, with most of their canvas covers bulging out from what was contained within, Ean began to wonder exactly how much food they were carrying into the Deadlands.

"All of the wagons just contain food? No supplies? No tools? No other goods?"

"No, the Living Dead can make everything else that they need, just like us. The town we are going to, Ulundkin, is actually built right next to a large mine. I've heard that most of the tools used in the Deadlands are made there."

"Then this caravan travels to all of the towns and cities in the Deadlands? Are there actual cities in the Deadlands?"

Sadiek shook his head while rubbing a hand across the top of it as if he had hair left. "This is where your ignorance of the world becomes dangerous, Ean. Ulundkin is the only place close enough to the border of the Deadlands anyone would dare visit. Any other towns or cities, if they exist, are too far into the area affected by the Plague to even attempt to visit."

"Why is that?"

"Ean, you have to know if you chose to come on this trip."

Ean returned the comment with a blank stare. He had heard the Deadlands were dangerous, but Ean felt that Sadiek was referring to something else. The other two had both stopped laughing now and were making a clear effort not to look in Ean's direction.

Placing his face in his hands, Sadiek rubbed them up and down a few times before speaking again.

"Ean, the Plague is still going strong in the Deadlands. Anyone that spends an extended amount of time runs the risk of being corrupted as well. It was only through sheer stupidity by a few merchants that people initially discovered that it was safe to spend some time in the Deadlands and not become affected by the Plague. Others were not so lucky and either ended up corrupted or dead."

Ean couldn't help the shiver that ran up his spine and shook his body. What had he gotten himself into? It must be somewhat safe if this caravan made frequent trips, but the way Sadiek was speaking, clearly, safety was not a guarantee. Had Kaz'ren known about the risks he was taking? Had Zin? Would the Plague even affect the imp?

"Wait, I thought the Plague mainly just corrupted people," Ean was finally able to get out. "How have people died?"

"From not knowing they were corrupted," Iacane cut in, his voice just as somber as Sadiek's voice had been. The usual smarminess was absent. "Sometimes it takes a while before those corrupted can actually feel the effects of the Plague. They think they are fine after spending time in the Deadlands and try to leave. When they cross the border, they usually have just enough time to realize what's happening before they die a horrible death."

Even sitting in the sun next to the cooking fire, Ean felt his whole body go cold. "How do they die?"

"It's the magic," Sadiek said, taking over again. "The magic that was used to stop the spread of the Plague. It stops everything associated with the plague from moving any further south. Anything even barely affected that crosses the border begins to break down and dissolve. When a person crosses..." He gave a little shudder. "Well, I've never seen it, but from what I've heard, it's a very gruesome way to die."

Sadiek became quiet, his eyes drifting off to look at the ground. The others remained quiet as well. He wanted to vomit. How could he expect to find the lair of Zin's old master knowing that every second increased his chances of becoming a permanent member of the Deadlands? Or worse, if he became corrupted without knowing it and tried to leave? Was trying to increase his control over his power and the creatures he summoned worth the risk? He had to talk to Zin.

The sudden loud clanging of a bell made everyone around the fire jump before they realized what it was. The sound signaled that the break was over. It was time to pack up and continue the journey.

"Bah, now we'll have to eat on the wagon," Iacane grumbled, rising to his feet. "Come on Fredren, help me get the stew into something we can eat out of while bouncing around inside." Turning to Ean, the older man frowned. "Sorry lad, guess you miss out on the meal."

As everyone else rose and started getting things ready to move, Sadiek grabbed Ean's arm and lead him away from the rest of the group.

"You might want to consider leaving the caravan before we cross over, now that you know what you're heading into. The caravan stops at Wethrinter, which sits close to the border. While it's true that we spend very little time in the corruption and that deaths are rare crossing back over, it's still something that can happen. No one would think any less of you for leaving."

"I... have to talk to Azalea and Zi--," Ean stopped, shaking his head. "I mean I have to talk to my sister, and see what she thinks. I doubt she knew how dangerous of a trip this was either."

"Well, you make sure you stress how dangerous it is. I don't know your reasons for wanting to travel into the Deadlands, but the two of you need to decide if it's worth your lives. If it will help, feel free to bring her by our fire tonight if you need help explaining the dangers."

"I will do that. Thank you, Sadiek".

"Of course. Now if you will excuse me, I better help with the loading up. I don't want to listen to Iacane complaining about how he did all the work the entire rest of today's journey."

And with that the older man rejoined the others. Toward the front of the caravan of wagons another bell clanged twice, signaling for an increase in the preparations to get underway. The next time the bell rang the wagons would start to move, whether everyone was ready or not. Ean began to jog up the line. He had to get back to his wagon and receive his work assignment before that third bell.

REACHING HIS WAGON, EAN was immediately pointed in the direction of the third wagon from the front. A large covered wagon like most of the others not meant for carrying people, Ean had originally assumed it was another wagon full of supplies. He was surprised when he climbed up into the back and found a small workshop set up inside.

Various tables were bolted to the waist-high walls of the inside of the wagon, each one having a small lip that stuck up around its edge that kept things from sliding off while the wagon was in motion. In the places where a table was absent, a chest or set of drawers sat latched to the ground, so that the entire inside perimeter was occupied. The crossbeams that held the canvas cover in place were double the width of the other wagons, and each had hooks or tools hanging from them.

In the middle of the mess sat a short man in plain brown clothes and a black apron. His unruly black hair matched the frayed state of his clothing. A belt with a collection of tools hung around his waist. The man was hunched over something, and he did not look up when Ean entered. Standing in the entrance Ean coughed once and, failing to get the man's attention, coughed even louder. It took a loud third cough before the man finally looked up.

"Wha... who are you?" he said in a grizzled voice. Ean could see yellow teeth peeking out from his lips as he spoke. "Oh, please don't tell me you're my assistant for this trip."

"I think I am. My name's--"

Placing something metallic on the ground, the man stood and threw his hands in the air.

"I ask for an apprentice and they give me just any old lad off the streets. Let me guess, you have absolutely no experience in blacksmithing, tinkering, or working on wagons."

Even though it had come out as more of a statement then question, Ean tried to answer. "No, I'm a Healer by trade--"

"Bah! It would be better if you had no experience in anything at all. Healers... if weak people can't handle being sick, then they should just die off, if you ask me. The world is becoming too coddled with medicines and magic making everything easier."

Another person demeaning being a Healer, Ean could barely believe it. Did no one appreciate his profession outside of Rottwealth and Rensen?

"Weak?" Ean couldn't help the anger that laced his voice. "You call someone with a sword or knife wound, bleeding out on the ground, weak? Or someone bitten by a poisonous spider or snake weak?" Looking around for a moment, he pointed to a collection of large metal poles that were hanging lengthwise above them. "If those things fell and crushed your arm or cracked open your skull like an egg, would you consider yourself too weak to let me fix either situation?"

"Those things are replacement axels for the wagons. If you are going to be working with me on this trip you should at least start to learn the names of everything." Looking at Ean, who was still visibly trying to control his anger, the man gave a short laugh. "Well, at least you're passionate about what you do. That makes one redeeming quality that you have. And a backbone makes a second one. Maybe you won't make this entire trip seem like weeks in the Abyss. Come over here, boy."

Biting his tongue, Ean moved over to the man's side. The grizzled man reached down and picked up what he had been examining when Ean had entered. It was a cylindrical piece of metal with two small bumps sticking out of holes in the middle but on opposite sides. When the old man pressed the two bumps they retracted under the pressure but then returned to their position when he released them.

"I don't suppose you know what this is," he said, not bothering to frame it as a question. "This little piece of metal and spring keeps the wagons connected to the horses and ox harnesses. One of these goes and we don't have a replacement, we basically have to leave a wagon behind. A wagon left behind means a loss of money for the family, and can you guess where a good chunk of that money comes from? My wages. So you can understand why this job is so important to me... uh, what did you say your name was again?"

"Ean".

"Well Ean, I'm Graden, by the way, since you were too rude to ask, and like I said I don't tolerate any mistakes. You will do what I say, when I say it, without question. Do we understand each other?"

Ean barely had enough time to nod before the older man grabbed his arm and pulled him down to a squatting position next to him. Launching into a mix of lecturing and insults, Graden began to explain the complexities of the little piece of metal that he was holding.

The rest of the day was a blur of activity as Graden moved from one job to the next, dragging Ean around their tight quarters. The Tinkerer, as he called himself, didn't slow down the entire day. He was constantly explaining the uses of different items or tools or showing Ean how to fix them. Not once did he allow Ean to fix or even handle a tool or piece of equipment on his own. Instead, he kept the younger man's attention focused on his explanations or work, even going as far as jabbing Ean in the ribs with a thin finger whenever Ean's attention started to wander.

As the light from the outside grew dim and the wagons rolled to a halt, Ean felt physically exhausted. Which was strange since he had done absolutely no work the entire afternoon. With the wagons stopped, Graden started going about lighting lamps that he then hung from some of the hooks screwed in the beams overhead.

"You're done, boy," the older man said, not bothering to stop his movements about the wagon or even glance in Ean's direction. "Go on and get something to eat, but no drinking! I want you to start here early in the morning tomorrow instead of the afternoon, and I don't want you getting hung over and throwing up all over the place. Do you understand?"

"Yes, of course."

"Good, now get out of here so I can actually get some work done without you being in the way all the time".

Which is how Ean found himself standing outside of the wagon, squinting in the light from the low hanging sun. The afternoon had been such a whirlwind of activity that he hadn't even had the chance to think about what he had learned about the Deadlands. His conversation with Sadiek came back to him in a rush, along with the nervousness and dread that it had initially caused. He didn't want to waste any more time, he needed to figure things out and that meant he had to find Zin and Azalea.

Closing his eyes, he focused on trying to feel the general direction of where the imp and Yulari were in the camp...

And practically jumped as he realized Zin was standing right next to him. Lowering down to one knee, Ean pretended to adjust the laces on his boots.

"And what have you been doing all day?" he whispered.

"Keeping an eye on the Yulari, of course. Making sure she doesn't get us into any trouble".

"For being the person that suggested we bring her along, you certainly have very little faith in her."

"I said she had her uses," he growled, "but that doesn't mean we can trust her."

"She's already done some things that I would consider fairly loyal, even if I don't always agree with how she does them."

Ean almost tipped over as an invisible claw suddenly grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down lower.

"Do not let her get to you, Ean." The imp's voice was cold and more serious sounding then Ean was accustomed to, coming from his friend. "We're both lucky her abilities don't seem to have any effect on you, but that doesn't mean she can't charm you all the same. A Yulari only cares about one thing--herself. For whatever reasons you or I think she is helping us, they are probably wrong."

"You're probably right. If she was completely on my side, she would have kept me from getting such annoying jobs the two times she's gotten us onto a caravan."

"Oh, she's just making you uncomfortable for a laugh," the imp joked, the seriousness suddenly gone from his voice. "If I was in her position, I probably would have done the same thing. Actually if I was in her position, I would have made sure you were shoveling dung again this entire trip."

"Well, whatever," Ean said softly between chuckles. "The three of us need to talk, and since you're here and I trust you, we'll talk just the two of us first. Let's head to my tent."

Rising, Ean grimaced as he noticed two workers staring at him from a few paces away. By the looks they were giving him, they had obviously noticed him talking and laughing to himself. Nothing he could do about that now. Dropping his head to look at the ground, Ean walked off quickly towards the area that was designated for his tent.

When Ean reached his spot, he was happy to see that a tent had already been put into place and a fire was started nearby for those on his wagon. The looks he received from those gathered around the fire, however, made it clear that they would prefer he didn't take a seat. Which was fine with Ean. He wanted to talk to Zin alone, try and figure some things out, then either find Azalea or just go straight to where Sadiek and the others would be camped out and get some dinner.

Pushing the tent flaps aside, Ean entered slowly enough to let Zin scoot in past him. The tent itself was smaller than the one he had slept in with the other caravan, but the material used to make it seemed thicker and kept out more of the elements while providing slightly more privacy. It also kept out most of the light, which kept the inside of the tent shrouded in darkness. Taking a seat towards the middle, Ean waited until he felt the imp settled into place before he spoke.

"I have some concerns," Ean began, letting some of the fear that he had been feeling creep into his voice. "Concerns about our trip into the Deadlands. Did you know that the curse is still alive and strong?"

Silence. Silence that clearly indicated that the imp had known.

"Zin, these are the types of things you need to tell me about! Finding relics of your former master won't exactly help me understand and control my abilities if I turn into some undead--"

"Living dead," the imp interrupted. "They are the Living Dead. Much different than the creatures known as the undea--"

"I know the difference!" Well, he had just learned the difference today, but that fact didn't matter. "I don't want to be stuck in the Deadlands like those other cursed people. Or worse, try to leave and wind up dead as I cross the border. I'm seriously considering giving this whole trip up, as soon as we reach Wethrintir".

"You can't!" the imp yelled with such ferocity that Ean leaned away from him. "We've come so far already. I promise you having access to my previous master's old things will be well worth the risks involved."

Ean let Zin's comments sink in for a few moments. What could be worth the risk of possibly dying or, in Ean's mind a worse scenario, becoming one of these Living Dead? Like a Sparkteller's images, Ean's future flashed through his mind. He had two choices of where he could go.

The safe road meant leaving the caravan at Wethrintir and trying to make a name for himself as a Healer. He could try and find his way back to Rottwealth, but that wouldn't solve the problem with the monster in the mine. Rottwealth wouldn't survive without someone taking care of it, and for all he knew Bran and Jaslen were lost for good.

The second road meant continuing on, entering the Deadlands, and risking his life. Risking the chance of being stuck in a land that, according to everyone Ean had talked to so far, said was both horrible and dangerous. And for what? What was the possible rewards? Insight into how to use his power? Better control over the creatures he summoned from the Abyss? Or something else entirely new? Even Zin didn't know and he was the one pushing for it.

And what if it was one of those perks or even all of them? What would Ean do with that kind of power? Could he use them in a way that could be helpful? Probably not with the fear and hatred associated with Ze'an and anything that came from the Abyss. He couldn't imagine becoming a monster like Zin's old master, but if he continued down this path, would he even have that choice? Would he even be able to stop himself from becoming a monster, if he gave up using his power now?

Too many questions and no one but the gods to give him answers, and they weren't offering any. Except Kaz'ren, but she made it clear that there was a price for receiving any help from the gods. Best to keep them out of his life whenever possible. Which meant that he had to make the decision on his own, without any idea what the future might hold.

While Ean struggled with himself, Zin remained surprisingly quiet, his small arms folded across his chest as he watched Ean closely.