Dusk Falling (Book 1) (50 page)

Serethar smiled back, a curling of the sides of his mouth. He took her proffered hand and pressed his lips to her warm wrist.

To those who did not know Ivariljhle and Serethar, one might imagine the High Priest much infatuated by the beautifully cold Dark Elf but Xiethes knew them. He knew them well enough to see through the act. The pair
used each other, a wicked symbiosis. There existed no desire between them except the desire to see their sect succeed. Their eyes were poison that said without a moment’s hesitation should the other show weakness they would strike.

Still regarding the woman who brought into the world the one who would become their Yashvre, Serethar spoke, “Xiethes, I am offering you a final chance to gain back my favor. You have proved yourself most useful in the past; I would hate to think I may have been wrong in keeping you from Tarllus’ clutches.”

At the mention of the man in charge of carrying out the slow-torture of Verca prisoners kept for necromancy purposes, Ivariljhle turned her amber eyes to the Youkai. The look she gave him said she would delight in the day that found him there. Xiethes matched her gaze with a steely one of his own.

“We have a new source of information, a new avenue to pursue if you will. The ones that now accompany our Yashvre were once bounty hunters of the Circuit. We have learned these individuals have had a falling out with their employers,” Serethar petted Ivariljhle’s hand gently. She favored him with a coy smile. “The Circuit has dispatched a team to track them down and in this, we will gain our edge. One of them has already been approached and has agreed on supplying us with their whereabouts if we were to ‘help them’ in apprehending these rogue Hunters.

“Now, Xiethes, I would like you to go be as much ‘help’ as you can. Be sure not to leave any of them alive. With the exception, of course,” His eyes darkened and a snarl curled his mouth into an ugly feral look. “our errant Yashvre. I am counting on you to know when and where it would be most appropriate for our Hunter companions to learn of our hand in this…”

“Yes, High Priest.” Xiethes intoned, bowing his head as he got to his feet. Alone. He was to be dispatched alone. No matter, he did not have the intentions of letting even the Phoenix live. With no witnesses he could be as brutal as he liked and if the half-breed got in his way, oh well, accidents happen. The Demonic tried very hard not to smile at the thought. He knew without a doubt the Jrahda-spawn would get in the way.

Xiethes pivoted, feeling the bone-razors in his hair glide across the skin of his back. Over the silence of his footfalls, he could clearly hear Ivariljhle speaking. She wasn’t making an effort to hide. “Why
do
you keep that thing around anyway? Youkai are nasty foul little creatures. They can’t be trusted or controlled.”

“Of course not, my dear. They still have their uses though. Their spirits do not break so easily and their bodies are not as frail as those of the higher races. When their suffering is harnessed, it boils over with undiffused rage and strength. Quite potent. Not as complex and valuable as that of the Larrens and Yierhna, but still…”

“High Priest, that is rather brilliant. One shouldn’t waste resources, no matter the shortcomings they possess.” The Dark Elf tittered. “Still, that one is tractable for now but how sure can you be without collaring the demon?”

“Now, now, Ivariljhle,” Serethar said in a mock-chastising voice. “Sometimes the best way to harness such creatures is to let them think they still keep their own priorities.”

Xiethes reached for the door, feeling Serethar’s gaze upon his back. The High Priest’s voice changed pitch with his last words, it carried through the chamber like a darkly whispered secret causing the Youkai to go cold all over. His hand twitched for the handle, again hearing the Dark Elf’s falsely charming laughter.

“And what if he tries to flee?”

“He will not. He has been saturated far too deeply with the energies of necromancy. He may not be aware of it but now there is no way out for him. Even should he try, he will come crawling back…”

Crawlingback
. Like vermin. Xiethes looked down upon his hand, the silver wire had relaxed to the point where he could see the thin wounds across it. His blood congealed on the wires. Reaching out, he seized the handle and yanked open the door. He would not be compared to the rats and lizards that skulked these dank halls! He would prove to Serethar just how more worthy he was. And, should he fail in that, he
would
come back but not for the reasons Serethar stated. He would come back for her. That witch would perish, he would see the light fade from her eyes as the knowledge soaked in. Death at the hands of a lower level belly-crawler of demon-spawn, nothing could be more fitting.

Chapter 35

The town was little more than a group of houses, Inn, mercantile and a few other shops. A horsebreeder’s holding sat on the furthest edge, a small herd raced the inside of the paddock with tails high in the warm sun. There was what looked to be high plank fence in progress to enclose the town but for some reason it remained unfinished. The heavy poles were firmly in ground in places, others they sat in neat piles beside stacks of planks of fairly good cut.

Two women chatted beside a laundry line, children played in the dirt nearby. Laughter could be heard from one of the buildings. A group of men in rough spun clothing looked to be heading out to work the fields, trailing passively behind them a mule pulling a cart. It looked peaceful enough, simply a small town in the middle of nowhere trying to support itself. The only thing out of place seemed to be the drunkard having a quiet discussion with himself down the alley between a flat-roofed home and the local Inn.

Aya and Genlo took in all they could see, both out of experience as well as simple caution. They too had been spotted, curious yet reserved eyes tracked them. One of the women ushered the gaggle of children into her home with gestures reminiscent of shooing wayward hens. The other continued to tend her line. A young man, possibly one of the women’s sons, came out and sat down on the porch watching without subtlety the pair of strangers.

The mercantile had an unpainted unmarked board hanging outside. Odd but given the unfinished feel to the town itself, it was further sign that this was a fairly new settlement. The door was open. The single window cleaned of dust and grime and the steps leading up were swept of any debris.

“Do you suspect Verca cas Nemun Ulrask even in backwater establishments such as this?” Came a voice behind them. Both gave a small start, neither having heard the Deity approach.

“No but we should stick together anyway.”

“You forget to whom you speak. It is you who should stick close to me.” The boy then strode in to the mercantile, leaving the two to glance at each other then follow after.

The inside of the store was impeccably clean, almost to a fault. Everything was neat and tidy and in its own place. An elderly woman, her hair up in an equally tidy bun, was eagerly sweeping the bare floor. She looked up
immediately with a gap-toothed smile. “Oooh, travelers! We don’t get many travelers ‘round here.” Avarice paused in the center of the room, drawing up as the shopkeep reached a friendly hand toward his shoulder. “And such a handsome little boy! Oooh, I’d give you five gold for ‘im!” She chuckled at her own joke.

“Lady, if I thought for one moment that would truly get rid of him…”

She looked up wide eyed, blank slowly. It took a few breaths for her to recover but when she did, it was like she completely forgot the upset. “So what can I help you with? Whatever we have is available to buy.”

They were not in the mercantile long. The supplies they procured were light travelers tack, nothing heavy that would weigh them down. It was difficult to decide on how much to get when Aya wasn’t sure where the journey would take them and where it would end. The end, she didn’t want to consider just yet. Upon stepping outside, they were met with another slightly unbalanced member of the strange small town.

“Bacara is the hope bringer! The giver of blessings! Let her into your heart and receive her love!” It was the old drunkard who had been carrying on a one-sided conversation. He stumbled, caught himself on the corner of the mercantile. The amber colored liquid contained in the flask in which he slurped greedily splashed onto his hand.

Avarice snorted in contempt. “Hope bringer? That’s ridiculous.”

The drunkard stuttered, attempting to push himself away from the wall that seemed to be moving behind him. “H-how dare you speak such blasphemy!”

“Bacara has never cared for anyone other than herself. She’s nothing but a petty jealous farce of a half god. She was exiled from the Empyrean many eons ago. Frankly how you are even aware of her name is beyond me.” The young Godling batted away Aya’s attempt to redirect him away from the potent subject.

The man was speechless, shocked into open mouthed silence. He found his voice when Avarice released him from his piercing glare. “Wait! How… can you speak thus? Like you… know the divine one?”

Growing weary and irritated, Avarice paused once more. “Because I have met her.”

“You… who look like a mere child yet speak like a soul of a thousand years… What is your name?” His slurred speech was sobering fast. He took a big swig of the amber liquid. The boy replied. “Thank you, speaker of truths, thank you! My eyes that were blinded are now opened!” The flask sloshed, this time spilling on his stained shirt.

Genlo looked at the drunkard then to the Godling then back again. “Oh no, don’t even!” Physically imposing himself in between the two, he mimicked the woman shooing her children with hand gestures. He put a
hand on the boy’s cloaked shoulder to move him and quickly pulled it back with a hiss when a shock was sent up his arm not unlike static. The last thing Genlo wanted to see was shrines pop up to the foul little blackmailing bastard. “Let’s go.”

A few steps out of town, Aya commented with a smile. “Well, that was an odd little back of beyond.”

“Yea.” Not offering any more.

~ ~ ~

In the northern portion of the Provinces, there was only one access point to Thabinthira that didn’t consist of a very rocky steep drop hundreds of feet into a sickly-looking marshland. As the team stood at the slanting winding pathway that headed down, a repugnant breeze floated up smelling of stagnant water and mire. The footing looked skeptical in places for this was not a well-traveled trail. Few willingly went in to the Tainted Lands and those that came out were not the kind to leave behind a way that would be easy to navigate by others.

The view into Thabinthira was one of chaos. The land was made of red dust and desert, dotted throughout were sparse scraggly trees twisted with disease. Crags and peaks broke the parched lands at intermediate places much like giant skeletal hands reaching up from underneath the ground to grab at the strangely colored sky. Yet the lands were not composed of simply an eerie desert; there were marshes such as the one they overlooked here and there, where they should not exist. What should have been wellsprings of life- full of water and sustenance for the local creatures- looked to be quite the opposite. The emerald green leaves even from the distance at which they stood emitted a shiny oil that reflected the dim light of the sphere above, the sun itself having trouble breaking through the strange sky.

“The quagmires were born from the Tainted magics that boiled up from under the ground. It liquefied, drawing plantlife in that became contaminated… much like everything else here.” Agemeer remarked, solemn eyes going from rocky spire to warped tree to sharp-bladed leaf.

“Agemeer, do you know much about these lands?” Aya asked, drawn to the deceptive marsh below. There were no signs of wildlife or birds.

“To be honest, no. I’ve only heard things. None of them pleasant, mind you.”

“It’s best if we do not dawdle once in Thabinthira.” Genlo said, tone restrained. “It doesn’t take long for its effects to set in. We avoid the marshes at all costs.” He set out first, showing decisiveness where he usually did not.

The others fell in line behind him, Serrtin taking up the rear after shuffling their supplies to keep from overbalancing. The pathway was no more than half a mile but its switchbacks and bad footing made it seem like it was twice as long when prospecting the safest way of negotiating the trek down. Every slip sent a storm of rock bits and dust fluttering down and over the sides. Luckily enough the path was fairly wide and there were handholds aplenty.

They were roughly halfway when something whizzed by Aya’s head to embed in the cliff wall beside her. She drew up sharp with a gasp. The silver crossbolt a scarce foot from ending her life quivered but held. A voice called up to them, a voice light in tone, smug. A voice they knew and one they had hoped to never hear again.

“I’d always known this day would come. Was just wonderin’ when.” Drawled the man below them, he ran his fingers over the brim of his ridiculous hat. A self-satisfied crooked smile turned up his mouth. He wasn’t alone. Jelantha squatted beside him, looking very much as if she had been drawing in the dirt. She looked up with one of her unstable grins. Off to the side, almost as if she was reluctant to join in, stood a woman none of the team knew or even recognized. This woman had long dark hair and a robust figure hidden behind crossed arms and bent shoulders.

“Owl…”

“We gotta get down or go back up,” Serrtin breathed softly, “We’re exposed. They could pick us off from afar without even breaking a sweat.” A stealthy glance about revealed no places to take cover behind, not even the smallest chunk of rubble. Attempting to run on slippery sloped ground with a straight drop off the side would be dangerous. As dangerous as doing nothing.

“Now then, how are we going to do this?” Owl drawled, settling a light crossbow onto his shoulder. “We know your record, don’t we, Jely? Such impeccable returns, a most extraordinary career and now… this? What are you doing here?”

“Owl, its not… things aren’t like they seem. We uncovered a plot that goes way beyond a simple Hunt, one we could not ignore. We have to do this.” Aya pleaded fervently.